Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  ‘It was under the threat of a coming storm that we finally caught sight of the “Inn of Blood”. In the livid light of the twilight, it was not a pleasant sight with its squat, thick walls, barred windows and the old, arched door, studded with iron, which led to the famous well. The whole was covered with a horrible, brownish paint which, it seems, is used on the arms of the guillotine.

  ‘“Heavens, but it’s ugly!” Maria-Luce cried, and it really must have been, for that afternoon, I can assure you, we were both in a mood to find everything lovely. We had not been bored with each other on the ride up! We had told each other stories, we had made plans for the future, and we had kissed to the health of our two Italians.

  ‘Just as the diligence stopped in front of this sinister dwelling, a regular torrent of rain, accompanied by flashes of lightning, and great growls of thunder, came down. We rushed into the inn, or rather into an enormous kitchen at the end of which was a tremendous fireplace large enough to burn a tree. At the present moment, however, only an honest little fire of dried branches was crackling away, and above it in an honest little pot, hung from a pot-hook, boiled a beef stew which smelled excellent. Before us stood the innkeeper, round-bellied like a barrel, with a pleasant manner, small, twinkling eyes peering out from creases of fat, and three chins, the tamest ogre in the world, all smiles.

  ‘“Are you reassured?” I asked Maria-Luce.

  ‘“Yes,” she answered, “he won’t have us cooked in that little pot, and he seems delightful!... But what weather!”

  ‘As a matter of fact, the driver had unharnessed the horses and got them under shelter because he was beginning to worry about the equilibrium of the carriage under the repeated claps of thunder. I asked him how long we would be staying here.

  ‘“An hour,” he answered. “I’ll be off again in an hour, no matter what the weather does!”

  ‘I figured that we would arrive at the hotel at the Wesseinstein in the middle of the night, if we arrived at all, because the road skirted a precipice on the right. I came to a rapid decision, and Maria-Luce agreed with me; so, taking the inn-keeper aside, I asked him if he had a room.

  “T have two,” the stout fellow answered, looking at me with a bantering twinkle in his eyes. “You want to sleep here?”

  “‘Yes. Show me your rooms!”

  ‘“If you’ll just wait a moment until I have served the lady and gentleman in the drawing-room, I’ll be at your service.”

  ‘What he called the drawing-room was a small room off the kitchen, furnished with a round table covered with oil-cloth, four chairs, and a few prints of the battles of the First Empire hanging on the walls, which were whitewashed. Our two Italians had made for this luxurious and comfortable nook on leaving the coach, in order to escape from associations from which they had already suffered.

  ‘When Scheffer, the innkeeper, opened the door which they had closed, I saw the handsome tenor at the window looking out at the landscape sadly. His companion was seated with her elbows on the table and did not seem any more cheerful.

  ‘The innkeeper came back to us.

  ‘“There are two more who want to sleep here! A drive in this rain doesn’t attract them. You had better hurry about choosing your room, because, between you and me, there is only one decent one!”

  ‘You can well imagine that I lost no time. We went up a stairway as steep as a ladder, that led on the left to the attic, which was directly over the kitchen, and on the right to a corridor which went to what was called “the travellers’ room”. This room was famous: it was here that almost all the murdered guests had slept.

  ‘“You aren’t afraid,” Scheffer chuckled, on opening the door; “but then, of course, nowadays only honeymooners come here.”

  ‘“That is true of us.”

  “‘Oh, then I won’t worry about you,” he replied; “you won’t have any bad dreams! Have you any luggage?”

  ‘“No, we left it at Soleure.”

  ‘It seemed to me that this detail irritated him. That may have been an idea that I invented later. Later, I also remembered that he eyed Maria-Luce’s bag, the jewels she wore, and even the big ring I wore, very keenly. But I won’t swear to it. He did it very quickly before leaving us. Outside it was still pouring, but the thunder had stopped.

  ‘In the fading light of the day, this room seemed a very peaceful retreat to us. It was large and clean, with light, flowered wallpaper; a big bed with white sheets, and an enormous red eiderdown quilt, a comfortable Morris chair, the mantel decorated with bouquets of orange blossoms, under a glass globe, and two pictures taken from Monsieur de Chateaubriand’s Atala and the Last of the Abenérages, the subject of which I explained to Maria-Luce.

  ‘“We’ll be very comfortable here,” she remarked, “and if you were nice you’d have a fire built on the hearth and we’d dine together in our room!”

  ‘“Good idea. I’ll go right down and tell our landlord.”

  ‘“I’ll come with you!” she cried. “You’re not going to leave me alone in this room!”

  ‘“Ah! it bothers you just the same....”

  ‘“Heavens, yes, when I think—”

  “‘Very well, come along, and don’t think!”

  ‘We were at the head of the stairs in front of the door of the attic when we heard the Italian’s voice.

  ‘“But this isn’t a room!” Antonio was exclaiming. “It’s a garret! It’s a dirty hole!...”

  ‘“It’s the only thing I have to give you,” the innkeeper answered. “I have already explained that my other room is taken!”

  ‘The door opened and we found ourselves face to face with the two Italians and the innkeeper.

  “‘Ah, you again, signor!” the tenor exclaimed. “You must admit that we are out of luck.”

  ‘I could not stop a smile. I had caught sight of an iron bed in one corner of the attic which was stuffed with all the dull, rusty articles that one is accustomed to store in such places.

  ‘“In fact,” I answered, “this is not a very comfortable place to sleep in, especially when one is accustomed to a certain amount of luxury. Do you know what I would do in your place? Now that the coupé is free, I would leave with the diligence!”

  ‘“He is right,” agreed the signora.

  “‘He is making fun of us!” the other muttered between his teeth.

  ‘I saw that there might be trouble, so I carried Maria-Luce off and went back down into the large, public room of the inn.

  ‘In spite of the rain, the other travellers had wanted to see the well where the executioners had thrown their victims, and they all returned dripping wet. They ordered hot grogs while the innkeeper, still joking a bit sarcastically, gave details:

  ‘“They probably didn’t drink the water from that well - everyone has his little niceties - but the peasants around here did. After all it didn’t matter much, because the Weisbachs did things neatly. They cleaned their skeletons well. They boiled for hours and hours in a cauldron that hung from that very pot-hook!”

  ‘Upon which, the travellers asked to see the cauldron, the pitchfork, the axe, and the knife, all the instruments of torture, in fact, that had become famous in this horrible affair.

  ‘“They are in the little dungeon... and my wife has the key.”

  ‘Madame Scheffer, detained at some forester’s because of the weather, took her time about returning. The driver announced in the meantime that he was ready to leave, and the room emptied itself in a moment.

  ‘The Italians did not come down until after the diligence had left. They seemed to have made up their minds to make the best of their part in the adventure and ordered dinner. We watched them out of the corner of our eyes, and Maria-Luce was very much amused. I was extremely polite and opened the conversation.

  “‘If I had been alone, I would have given my room up willingly...”

  “‘A bad night is soon over,” the Italian answered me with a smile.

  ‘The woman, whom I’ll call Countess Ors
ino although I did not know her name at the time, was charming to Maria-Luce.

  ‘“We have been cheated,” she said to her; “this inn is not at all horrible.”

  ‘A door at the end of the room opened, and Madame Scheffer, the innkeeper’s wife, entered. She rid herself of an enormous coat and hood, and as she did so we could not control the chill of terror that ran up our spines. The sight was worse than horrible: it was sinister. Her hideousness was due mostly to her squinting eyes and enormous, grinning mouth. Aside from that, she had sparkling teeth, beautiful golden hair, and a nose that was a bit thick, with ferociously sensual nostrils. I don’t know what Madame Weisbach was like, but this woman certainly seemed to exhale an odour of blood. She was strong and still young, about thirty-eight, with firm limbs, and hands used to men’s work.

  ‘Behind her came the manservant, whom we had not yet seen. He was thick-set, slightly humpbacked, and he limped. A redhead with the face of a brute.

  ‘He threw down the burden he was hidden under on the paving and gave a sigh of relief. Then he looked at us in silence and lifted a trapdoor under the stairs. He lighted a lamp, which was there prepared, and disappeared down into the cellar, dragging his bundle behind him. The innkeeper was cleaning the dirty wineglasses and no one had said a word. The three of them had looked at us in silence, that was all.

  ‘“I’m frightened this time,” Maria-Luce whispered to me.

  “‘Yes, it’s beginning to become more interesting,” I answered, “but don’t get worked up and we’ll have some fun out of it.”

  ‘The innkeeper was the first to break the silence after his wife had disappeared into the cellar behind the servant.

  ‘“What do you think of my wife?” he asked. “She fits in well in an inn like this, doesn’t she? I couldn’t have chosen better!...”

  ‘I joined in the game. “Yes, it’s quite a good trick.”

  The little countess had retreated into the shadow of her handsome tenor, and he remarked pleasantly: “Madame Scheffer would be very good-looking if she didn’t squint.”

  ‘“If she hadn’t squinted, I would not have married her,” the innkeeper answered. “Weisbach’s wife squinted! And I wonder if you noticed my manservant... he’s humpbacked and bow-legged like Daniel, the Weisbach’s servant. I had to go all the way to Chaux-de-Fonds to find him.”

  ‘“Why don’t you laugh, Olivia?” asked the tenor, who seemed to be enjoying himself.

  ‘“Did they ever murder anyone in the attic?” Olivia gasped.

  ‘“Did they ever murder anyone in the attic!” Scheffer exclaimed. “Well, I should say so! I have all the newspapers if you want to look them over. Daniel slept in the attic and stood guard over the travellers in the other room. When he believed that they were safely asleep, he would knock three times on the floor, and the Weisbachs, who kept themselves in readiness for the signal, came up...

  ‘“Sometimes the deed was easily and quietly done; other times there was a scuffle. The woman with the goitre told how Mengal from Breslau, president of the court of justice, defended himself so well that his wife was able to escape. But on leaving the room, the unfortunate woman rushed into the attic where Daniel always waited, holding himself in readiness to help. He broke her skull in with one blow of the axe... You will see the axe!...”

  ‘“How horrible!” moaned the countess.

  ‘“Oh, that’s nothing,” the innkeeper went on, shrugging his shoulders; “there are lots of other tales about them that are more interesting than this. And I’m not making them up. There’s the one about the beautiful brunette chained down in the grotto. But you ought to reconstruct the scene of the tale for yourselves in the little dungeon, if you are fond of such things! You will also see the pitchfork that the Weisbachs used to caress the little brunette!...”

  ‘I felt Maria-Luce’s hand tremble in mine.

  ‘“Give me a light,” I said to the innkeeper and when I had lighted my pipe: “Scheffer, you’re a dirty fraud!”

  ‘“By Gad, no! What about the inquest?... and the newspapers?”

  ‘“Possible... But you make me laugh with your axe and your pitchfork! It’s as though you told me that the Weisbachs cooked their victims in that pot over there!”

  “‘You’re a shrewd one,” he burst out with a roar of laughter. “But I found the cauldron I need yesterday. My wife went to pay for it today and the man brought it back with some other little things that won’t go badly with the landscape! Yes, it’s true. I’m helping the atmosphere along a little... It was my idea... And when everything is just as it was before. people will feel that they are back in the times of the Weisbachs... But you must believe!... When I tell you that this is the cauldron, this the axe, and this the pitchfork, you must believe, or there’s no fun in it... but then you’re not an amateur in such things!... What I am doing is for the amateurs who specialize in horrors! The fact that it is the actual dungeon, the well, and the inn, is a good start and with a little imagination it won’t be hard to believe that the crimes have just been committed... without counting the fact that my wife and servant are a stroke of genius!... I hope to be rich in ten years. When I think that the people who were here before me had the travellers’ room done over and added a drawing-room!... The fools! As though it were possible to ruin the ‘Inn of Blood’ like that!”

  ‘He sighed and went on, “You see, I’m not trying to put anything over on you. You’re not out for thrills, so I have shown you the inside of everything. But there are people who would be angry with me if I were to give the show away. There are some, you know, who love it!... Don’t be afraid, little lady,” he said to the Countess, “if the idea that you are going to sleep in the attic where they murdered that poor woman upsets you, I’ll have a mattress put in the drawing-room.”

  “‘No, we’ll sleep in the attic,” Antonio Ferretti declared.

  ‘“Very well. And you,” the innkeeper asked, turning to me, “does the idea of sleeping in the ‘travellers’ room’ bother you?”

  ‘“Not a bit, not a bit! Does it, Maria-Luce?”

  “‘Oh, the whole place frightens me,” Maria-Luce answered.

  ‘At that, we three men burst out laughing and the women joined us at the end, but only half-heartedly.

  ‘Madame Scheffer reappeared out of the trapdoor, followed by the servant, and we stopped laughing immediately. Only Scheffer seemed vastly amused by the effect that his wife had had on us. He called out to his servant: ‘Daniel!’... like the other one!

  ‘He ordered him to wring the neck of two chickens, but Olivia said that she was not hungry and that a cup of bouillon would satisfy her.

  ‘“Excuse me, but I am,” Antonio protested, “and a chicken won’t frighten me!”

  ‘“And you?” I asked Maria-Luce.

  ‘“Nor me,” she answered, squeezing up close to me; “that is the only thing in the house that doesn’t frighten me.”

  “‘Shall we dine together?” Antonio asked. He had obviously forgotten the incident of the diligence.

  “‘No, thank you,” I answered; “I’ve had a fire lit in our room and my wife and I will dine alone in our quarters.”

  ‘“It’s very nice up there,” he replied, smiling. “I have seen the room.

  You’re in luck. I can understand how people sleep there even at the risk of being murdered!”

  ‘“You are cheerful!”

  ‘“Oh, I’m only speaking of those who were before you.”

  ‘The innkeeper started to rattle some keys. He had just lighted the lamps, as night had completely fallen.

  ‘“While waiting for dinner, I’ll show you around. The rain has stopped and we can go to the well, to the grotto, and in the stable.”

  ‘The women hesitated, but we persuaded them to follow us. The innkeeper went ahead with a swinging lantern; and in the stable, in front of the well, and in the grotto, which was about a hundred yards from the inn and the existence of which had been ignored for a long time, he reconstruct
ed the whole story - and more. He put in a few details of his own! The crimes of the Peyrebelle Inn were mere trifles compared to the crimes of the “Inn of Blood”!

  ‘The Weisbachs had made a sort of crematory oven out of one end of the grotto, and some fragments of human bones, too large to be confused with the bones of sheep, had been found there.

  ‘It was useless trying to be strong-minded; we all came back from that little expedition somewhat upset. We were glad to re-enter the big room of the inn with its cheerful hearth... and yet!... Yes, but over the fire, two chickens were turning on the spit and filled the air with an extremely pleasant aroma. The bow-legged servant basted them from time to time with their juice, meanwhile polishing up a big leather basin.

  ‘“What are you doing?” I asked him.

  ‘He lifted his brute face up towards me and went on with his rubbing.

  ‘“Don’t ask Daniel questions,” the innkeeper said with a little laugh. “It’s a waste of time, because he won’t answer you. Not that he is dumb, but I have ordered him to be mute like the other, who really was! You understand?”

  “‘Oh, yes, I understand. Congratulations, you haven’t overlooked a thing.”

  “‘Nothing. And when the cauldron is on the hearth, you’ll see what a sensation I’ll make when I repeat the story told to the judge by the woman with the goitre.”

  “‘What was that?” Antonio asked.

  ‘“Why, the story of what happened to her when she first awoke to the fact that she was working for very peculiar people. One night when she came in from her washing, she found a roaring fire on the hearth. She went closer to see what they were cooking in the pot, and she lifted the cover; but Weisbach appeared on the run and gave her a blow that sent her reeling against the wall. But she had seen!... She had seen a man’s head turning around in the bouillon, surrounded by chunks of flesh.

  ““You see,’ Weisbach said to her, ‘curiosity is always punished. If I did what was right, I’d send you to the bottom of the pot to find out what is going on there! But I need you. In the meantime, keep your mouth shut!’