Huit coups de l'horloge. English

by Maurice Leblanc

  VII

  FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

  _To Prince Serge Renine, Boulevard Haussmann, Paris_

  LA RONCIERE NEAR BASSICOURT, 14 NOVEMBER.

  "MY DEAR FRIEND,--

  "You must be thinking me very ungrateful. I have been here three weeks; andyou have had not one letter from me! Not a word of thanks! And yet I endedby realizing from what terrible death you saved me and understanding thesecret of that terrible business! But indeed, indeed I couldn't help it! Iwas in such a state of prostration after it all! I needed rest and solitudeso badly! Was I to stay in Paris? Was I to continue my expeditions withyou? No, no, no! I had had enough adventures! Other people's are veryinteresting, I admit. But when one is one's self the victim and barelyescapes with one's life?... Oh, my dear friend, how horrible it was! ShallI ever forget it?...

  "Here, at la Ronciere, I enjoy the greatest peace. My old spinster cousinErmelin pets and coddles me like an invalid. I am getting back my colourand am very well, physically ... so much so, in fact, that I no longerever think of interesting myself in other people's business. Never again!For instance (I am only telling you this because you are incorrigible, asinquisitive as any old charwoman, and always ready to busy yourself withthings that don't concern you), yesterday I was present at a rather curiousmeeting. Antoinette had taken me to the inn at Bassicourt, where we werehaving tea in the public room, among the peasants (it was market-day), whenthe arrival of three people, two men and a woman, caused a sudden pause inthe conversation.

  "One of the men was a fat farmer in a long blouse, with a jovial, red face,framed in white whiskers. The other was younger, was dressed in corduroyand had lean, yellow, cross-grained features. Each of them carried a gunslung over his shoulder. Between them was a short, slender young woman, ina brown cloak and a fur cap, whose rather thin and extremely pale face wassurprisingly delicate and distinguished-looking.

  "'Father, son and daughter-in-law,' whispered my cousin.

  "'What! Can that charming creature be the wife of that clod-hopper?'

  "'And the daughter-in-law of Baron de Gorne.'

  "'Is the old fellow over there a baron?'

  "'Yes, descended from a very ancient, noble family which used to own thechateau in the old days. He has always lived like a peasant: a greathunter, a great drinker, a great litigant, always at law with somebody, nowvery nearly ruined. His son Mathias was more ambitious and less attached tothe soil and studied for the bar. Then he went to America. Next, the lackof money brought him back to the village, whereupon he fell in love with ayoung girl in the nearest town. The poor girl consented, no one knows why,to marry him; and for five years past she has been leading the life of ahermit, or rather of a prisoner, in a little manor-house close by, theManoir-au-Puits, the Well Manor.'

  "'With the father and the son?' I asked.

  "'No, the father lives at the far end of the village, on a lonely farm.'

  "'And is Master Mathias jealous?'

  "'A perfect tiger!'

  "'Without reason?'

  "'Without reason, for Natalie de Gorne is the straightest woman in theworld and it is not her fault if a handsome young man has been hangingaround the manor-house for the past few months. However, the de Gornescan't get over it.'

  "'What, the father neither?'

  "'The handsome young man is the last descendant of the people who boughtthe chateau long ago. This explains old de Gorne's hatred. JeromeVignal--I know him and am very fond of him--is a good-looking fellow andvery well off; and he has sworn to run off with Natalie de Gorne. It'sthe old man who says so, whenever he has had a drop too much. There,listen!'

  "The old chap was sitting among a group of men who were amusing themselvesby making him drink and plying him with questions. He was already a littlebit 'on' and was holding forth with a tone of indignation and a mockingsmile which formed the most comic contrast:

  "'He's wasting his time, I tell you, the coxcomb! It's no manner of use hispoaching round our way and making sheep's-eyes at the wench.... The covertsare watched! If he comes too near, it means a bullet, eh, Mathias?'

  "He gripped his daughter-in-law's hand:

  "'And then the little wench knows how to defend herself too,' he chuckled.'Eh, you don't want any admirers, do you Natalie?'

  "The young wife blushed, in her confusion at being addressed in theseterms, while her husband growled:

  "'You'd do better to hold your tongue, father. There are things one doesn'ttalk about in public.'

  "'Things that affect one's honour are best settled in public,' retorted theold one. 'Where I'm concerned, the honour of the de Gornes comes beforeeverything; and that fine spark, with his Paris airs, sha'n't....'

  "He stopped short. Before him stood a man who had just come in and whoseemed to be waiting for him to finish his sentence. The newcomer was atall, powerfully-built young fellow, in riding-kit, with a hunting-crop inhis hand. His strong and rather stern face was lighted up by a pair of fineeyes in which shone an ironical smile.

  "'Jerome Vignal,' whispered my cousin.

  "The young man seemed not at all embarrassed. On seeing Natalie, he made alow bow; and, when Mathias de Gorne took a step forward, he eyed him fromhead to foot, as though to say:

  "'Well, what about it?'

  "And his attitude was so haughty and contemptuous that the de Gornesunslung their guns and took them in both hands, like sportsmen about toshoot. The son's expression was very fierce.

  "Jerome was quite unmoved by the threat. After a few seconds, turning tothe inn-keeper, he remarked:

  "'Oh, I say! I came to see old Vasseur. But his shop is shut. Would youmind giving him the holster of my revolver? It wants a stitch or two.'

  "He handed the holster to the inn-keeper and added, laughing:

  "'I'm keeping the revolver, in case I need it. You never can tell!'

  "Then, still very calmly, he took a cigarette from a silver case, lit itand walked out. We saw him through the window vaulting on his horse andriding off at a slow trot.

  "Old de Gorne tossed off a glass of brandy, swearing most horribly.

  "His son clapped his hand to the old man's mouth and forced him to sitdown. Natalie de Gorne was weeping beside them....

  "That's my story, dear friend. As you see, it's not tremendouslyinteresting and does not deserve your attention. There's no mystery in itand no part for you to play. Indeed, I particularly insist that you shouldnot seek a pretext for any untimely interference. Of course, I should beglad to see the poor thing protected: she appears to be a perfect martyr.But, as I said before, let us leave other people to get out of their owntroubles and go no farther with our little experiments...."

  * * * * *

  Renine finished reading the letter, read it over again and ended by saying:

  "That's it. Everything's right as right can be. She doesn't want tocontinue our little experiments, because this would make the seventh andbecause she's afraid of the eighth, which under the terms of our agreementhas a very particular significance. She doesn't want to ... and she doeswant to ... without seeming to want to."

  * * * * *

  He rubbed his hands. The letter was an invaluable witness to the influencewhich he had gradually, gently and patiently gained over Hortense Daniel.It betrayed a rather complex feeling, composed of admiration, unboundedconfidence, uneasiness at times, fear and almost terror, but also love:he was convinced of that. His companion in adventures which she sharedwith a good fellowship that excluded any awkwardness between them, shehad suddenly taken fright; and a sort of modesty, mingled with a certaincoquetry; was impelling her to hold back.

  That very evening, Sunday, Renine took the train.

  And, at break of day, after covering by diligence, on a road white withsnow, the five miles between the little town of Pompignat, where healighted, and the village of Bassicourt, he learnt that his journey mightprove of some use: three shots had been heard during the night in thedirect
ion of the Manoir-au-Puits.

  "Three shots, sergeant. I heard them as plainly as I see you standingbefore me," said a peasant whom the gendarmes were questioning in theparlour of the inn which Renine had entered.

  "So did I," said the waiter. "Three shots. It may have been twelve o'clockat night. The snow, which had been falling since nine, had stopped ...and the shots sounded across the fields, one after the other: bang, bang,bang."

  Five more peasants gave their evidence. The sergeant and his men hadheard nothing, because the police-station backed on the fields. But afarm-labourer and a woman arrived, who said that they were in Mathiasde Gorne's service, that they had been away for two days because of theintervening Sunday and that they had come straight from the manor-house,where they were unable to obtain admission:

  "The gate of the grounds is locked, sergeant," said the man. "It's thefirst time I've known this to happen. M. Mathias comes out to open ithimself, every morning at the stroke of six, winter and summer. Well, it'spast eight now. I called and shouted. Nobody answered. So we came on here."

  "You might have enquired at old M. de Gorne's," said the sergeant. "Helives on the high-road."

  "On my word, so I might! I never thought of that."

  "We'd better go there now," the sergeant decided. Two of his men went withhim, as well as the peasants and a locksmith whose services were calledinto requisition. Renine joined the party.

  Soon, at the end of the village, they reached old de Gorne's farmyard,which Renine recognized by Hortense's description of its position.

  The old fellow was harnessing his horse and trap. When they told him whathad happened, he burst out laughing:

  "Three shots? Bang, bang, bang? Why, my dear sergeant, there are only twobarrels to Mathias' gun!"

  "What about the locked gate?"

  "It means that the lad's asleep, that's all. Last night, he came andcracked a bottle with me ... perhaps two ... or even three; and he'll besleeping it off, I expect ... he and Natalie."

  He climbed on to the box of his trap--an old cart with a patched tilt--andcracked his whip:

  "Good-bye, gentlemen all. Those three shots of yours won't stop me fromgoing to market at Pompignat, as I do every Monday. I've a couple of calvesunder the tilt; and they're just fit for the butcher. Good-day to you!"

  The others walked on. Renine went up to the sergeant and gave him his name:

  "I'm a friend of Mlle. Ermelin, of La Ronciere; and, as it's too early tocall on her yet, I shall be glad if you'll allow me to go round by themanor with you. Mlle. Ermelin knows Madame de Gorne; and it will be asatisfaction to me to relieve her mind, for there's nothing wrong at themanor-house, I hope?"

  "If there is," replied the sergeant, "we shall read all about it as plainlyas on a map, because of the snow."

  He was a likable young man and seemed smart and intelligent. From the veryfirst he had shown great acuteness in observing the tracks which Mathiashad left behind him, the evening before, on returning home, tracks whichsoon became confused with the footprints made in going and coming by thefarm-labourer and the woman. Meanwhile they came to the walls of a propertyof which the locksmith readily opened the gate.

  From here onward, a single trail appeared upon the spotless snow, that ofMathias; and it was easy to perceive that the son must have shared largelyin the father's libations, as the line of footprints described suddencurves which made it swerve right up to the trees of the avenue.

  Two hundred yards farther stood the dilapidated two-storeyed building ofthe Manoir-au-Puits. The principal door was open.

  "Let's go in," said the sergeant.

  And, the moment he had crossed the threshold, he muttered:

  "Oho! Old de Gorne made a mistake in not coming. They've been fighting inhere."

  The big room was in disorder. Two shattered chairs, the overturned tableand much broken glass and china bore witness to the violence of thestruggle. The tall clock, lying on the ground, had stopped at twenty pasteleven.

  With the farm-girl showing them the way, they ran up to the first floor.Neither Mathias nor his wife was there. But the door of their bedroom hadbeen broken down with a hammer which they discovered under the bed.

  Renine and the sergeant went downstairs again. The living-room had apassage communicating with the kitchen, which lay at the back of the houseand opened on a small yard fenced off from the orchard. At the end of thisenclosure was a well near which one was bound to pass.

  Now, from the door of the kitchen to the well, the snow, which was notvery thick, had been pressed down to this side and that, as though a bodyhad been dragged over it. And all around the well were tangled traces oftrampling feet, showing that the struggle must have been resumed at thisspot. The sergeant again discovered Mathias' footprints, together withothers which were shapelier and lighter.

  These latter went straight into the orchard, by themselves. And, thirtyyards on, near the footprints, a revolver was picked up and recognized byone of the peasants as resembling that which Jerome Vignal had produced inthe inn two days before.

  The sergeant examined the cylinder. Three of the seven bullets had beenfired.

  And so the tragedy was little by little reconstructed in its main outlines;and the sergeant, who had ordered everybody to stand aside and not to stepon the site of the footprints, came back to the well, leant over, put a fewquestions to the farm-girl and, going up to Renine, whispered:

  "It all seems fairly clear to me."

  Renine took his arm:

  "Let's speak out plainly, sergeant. I understand the business prettywell, for, as I told you, I know Mlle. Ermelin, who is a friend of JeromeVignal's and also knows Madame de Gorne. Do you suppose ...?"

  "I don't want to suppose anything. I simply declare that some one camethere last night...."

  "By which way? The only tracks of a person coming towards the manor arethose of M. de Gorne."

  "That's because the other person arrived before the snowfall, that is tosay, before nine o'clock."

  "Then he must have hidden in a corner of the living-room and waited for thereturn of M. de Gorne, who came after the snow?"

  "Just so. As soon as Mathias came in, the man went for him. There was afight. Mathias made his escape through the kitchen. The man ran after himto the well and fired three revolver-shots."

  "And where's the body?"

  "Down the well."

  Renine protested:

  "Oh, I say! Aren't you taking a lot for granted?"

  "Why, sir, the snow's there, to tell the story; and the snow plainly saysthat, after the struggle, after the three shots, one man alone walkedaway and left the farm, one man only, and his footprints are not thoseof Mathias de Gorne. Then where can Mathias de Gorne be?"

  "But the well ... can be dragged?"

  "No. The well is practically bottomless. It is known all over the districtand gives its name to the manor."

  "So you really believe ...?"

  "I repeat what I said. Before the snowfall, a single arrival, Mathias, anda single departure, the stranger."

  "And Madame de Gorne? Was she too killed and thrown down the well like herhusband?"

  "No, carried off."

  "Carried off?"

  "Remember that her bedroom was broken down with a hammer."

  "Come, come, sergeant! You yourself declare that there was only onedeparture, the stranger's."

  "Stoop down. Look at the man's footprints. See how they sink into the snow,until they actually touch the ground. Those are the footprints of a man,laden with a heavy burden. The stranger was carrying Madame de Gorne on hisshoulder."

  "Then there's an outlet this way?"

  "Yes, a little door of which Mathias de Gorne always had the key on him.The man must have taken it from him."

  "A way out into the open fields?"

  "Yes, a road which joins the departmental highway three quarters of a milefrom here.... And do you know where?"

  "Where?"

  "At the corner of the chateau."

>   "Jerome Vignal's chateau?"

  "By Jove, this is beginning to look serious! If the trail leads to thechateau and stops there, we shall know where we stand."

  The trail did continue to the chateau, as they were able to perceive afterfollowing it across the undulating fields, on which the snow lay heaped inplaces. The approach to the main gates had been swept, but they saw thatanother trail, formed by the two wheels of a vehicle, was running in theopposite direction to the village.

  The sergeant rang the bell. The porter, who had also been sweeping thedrive, came to the gates, with a broom in his hand. In answer to aquestion, the man said that M. Vignal had gone away that morning beforeanyone else was up and that he himself had harnessed the horse to the trap.

  "In that case," said Renine, when they had moved away, "all we have to dois to follow the tracks of the wheels."

  "That will be no use," said the sergeant. "They have taken the railway."

  "At Pompignat station, where I came from? But they would have passedthrough the village."

  "They have gone just the other way, because it leads to the town, where theexpress trains stop. The procurator-general has an office in the town. I'lltelephone; and, as there's no train before eleven o'clock, all that theyneed do is to keep a watch at the station."

  "I think you're doing the right thing, sergeant," said Renine, "and Icongratulate you on the way in which you have carried out yourinvestigation."

  They parted. Renine went back to the inn in the village and sent a note toHortense Daniel by hand:

  "MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,

  "I seemed to gather from your letter that, touched as always by anything that concerns the heart, you were anxious to protect the love-affair of Jerome and Natalie. Now there is every reason to suppose that these two, without consulting their fair protectress, have run away, after throwing Mathias de Gorne down a well.

  "Forgive me for not coming to see you. The whole thing is extremely obscure; and, if I were with you, I should not have the detachment of mind which is needed to think the case over."

  It was then half-past ten. Renine went for a walk into the country, withhis hands clasped behind his back and without vouchsafing a glance at theexquisite spectacle of the white meadows. He came back for lunch, stillabsorbed in his thoughts and indifferent to the talk of the customers ofthe inn, who on all sides were discussing recent events.

  He went up to his room and had been asleep some time when he was awakenedby a tapping at the door. He got up and opened it:

  "Is it you?... Is it you?" he whispered.

  Hortense and he stood gazing at each other for some seconds in silence,holding each other's hands, as though nothing, no irrelevant thought and noutterance, must be allowed to interfere with the joy of their meeting. Thenhe asked:

  "Was I right in coming?"

  "Yes," she said, gently, "I expected you."

  "Perhaps it would have been better if you had sent for me sooner, insteadof waiting.... Events did not wait, you see, and I don't quite know what'sto become of Jerome Vignal and Natalie de Gorne."

  "What, haven't you heard?" she said, quickly. "They've been arrested. Theywere going to travel by the express."

  "Arrested? No." Renine objected. "People are not arrested like that. Theyhave to be questioned first."

  "That's what's being done now. The authorities are making a search."

  "Where?"

  "At the chateau. And, as they are innocent.... For they are innocent,aren't they? You don't admit that they are guilty, any more than I do?"

  He replied:

  "I admit nothing, I can admit nothing, my dear. Nevertheless, I am boundto say that everything is against them ... except one fact, which is thateverything is too much against them. It is not normal for so many proofs tobe heaped up one on top of the other and for the man who commits a murderto tell his story so frankly. Apart from this, there's nothing but mysteryand discrepancy."

  "Well?"

  "Well, I am greatly puzzled."

  "But you have a plan?"

  "None at all, so far. Ah, if I could see him, Jerome Vignal, and her,Natalie de Gorne, and hear them and know what they are saying in their owndefence! But you can understand that I sha'n't be permitted either to askthem any questions or to be present at their examination. Besides, it mustbe finished by this time."

  "It's finished at the chateau," she said, "but it's going to be continuedat the manor-house."

  "Are they taking them to the manor-house?" he asked eagerly.

  "Yes ... at least, judging by what was said to the chauffeur of one of theprocurator's two cars."

  "Oh, in that case," exclaimed Renine, "the thing's done! The manor-house!Why, we shall be in the front row of the stalls! We shall see and heareverything; and, as a word, a tone of the voice, a quiver of the eyelidswill be enough to give me the tiny clue I need, we may entertain some hope.Come along."

  He took her by the direct route which he had followed that morning, leadingto the gate which the locksmith had opened. The gendarmes on duty atthe manor-house had made a passage through the snow, beside the line offootprints and around the house. Chance enabled Renine and Hortense toapproach unseen and through a side-window to enter a corridor near aback-staircase. A few steps up was a little chamber which received itsonly light through a sort of bull's-eye, from the large room on theground-floor. Renine, during the morning visit, had noticed the bull's-eye,which was covered on the inside with a piece of cloth. He removed the clothand cut out one of the panes.

  A few minutes later, a sound of voices rose from the other side of thehouse, no doubt near the well. The sound grew more distinct. A number ofpeople flocked into the house. Some of them went up stairs to the firstfloor, while the sergeant arrived with a young man of whom Renine andHortense were able to distinguish only the tall figure:

  "Jerome Vignal," said she.

  "Yes," said Renine. "They are examining Madame de Gorne first, upstairs,in her bedroom."

  A quarter of an hour passed. Then the persons on the first floor camedownstairs and went in. They were the procurator's deputy, his clerk, acommissary of police and two detectives.

  Madame de Gorne was shown in and the deputy asked Jerome Vignal to stepforward.

  Jerome Vignal's face was certainly that of the strong man whom Hortense haddepicted in her letter. He displayed no uneasiness, but rather decision anda resolute will. Natalie, who was short and very slight, with a feverishlight in her eyes, nevertheless produced the same impression of quietconfidence.

  The deputy, who was examining the disordered furniture and the traces ofthe struggle, invited her to sit down and said to Jerome:

  "Monsieur, I have not asked you many questions so far. This is a summaryenquiry which I am conducting in your presence and which will be continuedlater by the examining-magistrate; and I wished above all to explain to youthe very serious reasons for which I asked you to interrupt your journeyand to come back here with Madame de Gorne. You are now in a position torefute the truly distressing charges that are hanging over you. I thereforeask you to tell me the exact truth."

  "Mr. Deputy," replied Jerome, "the charges in question trouble me verylittle. The truth for which you are asking will defeat all the lies whichchance has accumulated against me. It is this."

  He reflected for an instant and then, in clear, frank tones, said:

  "I love Madame de Gorne. The first time I met her, I conceived the greatestsympathy and admiration for her. But my affection has always been directedby the sole thought of her happiness. I love her, but I respect her evenmore. Madame de Gorne must have told you and I tell you again that she andI exchanged our first few words last night."

  He continued, in a lower voice:

  "I respect her the more inasmuch as she is exceedingly unhappy. All theworld knows that every minute of her life was a martyrdom. Her husbandpersecuted her with ferocious hatred and frantic jealousy. Ask theservants. They will tell you of the long suffering of Natalie de Gorn
e, ofthe blows which she received and the insults which she had to endure. Itried to stop this torture by restoring to the rights of appeal which themerest stranger may claim when unhappiness and injustice pass a certainlimit. I went three times to old de Gorne and begged him to interfere; butI found in him an almost equal hatred towards his daughter-in-law, thehatred which many people feel for anything beautiful and noble. At lastI resolved on direct action and last night I took a step with regard toMathias de Gorne which was ... a little unusual, I admit, but which seemedlikely to succeed, considering the man's character. I swear, Mr. Deputy,that I had no other intention than to talk to Mathias de Gorne. Knowingcertain particulars of his life which enabled me to bring effectivepressure to bear upon him, I wished to make use of this advantage in orderto achieve my purpose. If things turned out differently, I am not whollyto blame.... So I went there a little before nine o'clock. The servants, Iknew, were out. He opened the door himself. He was alone."

  "Monsieur," said the deputy, interrupting him, "you are sayingsomething--as Madame de Gorne, for that matter, did just now--which ismanifestly opposed to the truth. Mathias de Gorne did not come home lastnight until eleven o'clock. We have two definite proofs of this: hisfather's evidence and the prints of his feet in the snow, which fell froma quarter past nine o'clock to eleven."

  "Mr. Deputy," Jerome Vignal declared, without heeding the bad effect whichhis obstinacy was producing, "I am relating things as they were and not asthey may be interpreted. But to continue. That clock marked ten minutes tonine when I entered this room. M. de Gorne, believing that he was about tobe attacked, had taken down his gun. I placed my revolver on the table, outof reach of my hand, and sat down: 'I want to speak to you, monsieur,' Isaid. 'Please listen to me.' He did not stir and did not utter a singlesyllable. So I spoke. And straightway, crudely, without any previousexplanations which might have softened the bluntness of my proposal, Ispoke the few words which I had prepared beforehand: 'I have spent somemonths, monsieur,' I said, 'in making careful enquiries into your financialposition. You have mortgaged every foot of your land. You have signedbills which will shortly be falling due and which it will be absolutelyimpossible for you to honour. You have nothing to hope for from yourfather, whose own affairs are in a very bad condition. So you are ruined. Ihave come to save you.'... He watched me, still without speaking, and satdown, which I took to mean that my suggestion was not entirely displeasing.Then I took a sheaf of bank-notes from my pocket, placed it before himand continued: 'Here is sixty thousand francs, monsieur. I will buy theManoir-au-Puits, its lands and dependencies and take over the mortgages.The sum named is exactly twice what they are worth.'... I saw his eyesglittering. He asked my conditions. 'Only one,' I said, 'that you go toAmerica.'... Mr. Deputy, we sat discussing for two hours. It was not thatmy offer roused his indignation--I should not have risked it if I had notknown with whom I was dealing--but he wanted more and haggled greedily,though he refrained from mentioning the name of Madame de Gorne, to whom Imyself had not once alluded. We might have been two men engaged in adispute and seeking an agreement on common ground, whereas it was thehappiness and the whole destiny of a woman that were at stake. At last,weary of the discussion, I accepted a compromise and we came to terms,which I resolved to make definite then and there. Two letters wereexchanged between us: one in which he made the Manoir-au-Puits over to mefor the sum which I had paid him; and one, which he pocketed immediately,by which I was to send him as much more in America on the day on which thedecree of divorce was pronounced.... So the affair was settled. I am surethat at that moment he was accepting in good faith. He looked upon me lessas an enemy and a rival than as a man who was doing him a service. He evenwent so far as to give me the key of the little door which opens on thefields, so that I might go home by the short cut. Unfortunately, while Iwas picking up my cap and greatcoat, I made the mistake of leaving on thetable the letter of sale which he had signed. In a moment, Mathias de Gornehad seen the advantage which he could take of my slip: he could keep hisproperty, keep his wife ... and keep the money. Quick as lightning, hetucked away the paper, hit me over the head with the butt-end of his gun,threw the gun on the floor and seized me by the throat with both hands. Hehad reckoned without his host. I was the stronger of the two; and after asharp but short struggle, I mastered him and tied him up with a cord whichI found lying in a corner ... Mr. Deputy, if my enemy's resolve was sudden,mine was no less so. Since, when all was said, he had accepted the bargain,I would force him to keep it, at least in so far as I was interested. Avery few steps brought me to the first floor ... I had not a doubt thatMadame de Gorne was there and had heard the sound of our discussion.Switching on the light of my pocket-torch, I looked into three bedrooms.The fourth was locked. I knocked at the door. There was no reply. But thiswas one of the moments in which a man allows no obstacle to stand in hisway. I had seen a hammer in one of the rooms. I picked it up and smashed inthe door.... Yes, Natalie was lying there, on the floor, in a dead faint. Itook her in my arms, carried her downstairs and went through the kitchen.On seeing the snow outside, I at once realized that my footprints would beeasily traced. But what did it matter? Was there any reason why I shouldput Mathias de Gorne off the scent? Not at all. With the sixty thousandfrancs in his possession, as well as the paper in which I undertook to payhim a like sum on the day of his divorce, to say nothing of his house andland, he would go away, leaving Natalie de Gorne to me. Nothing was changedbetween us, except one thing: instead of awaiting his good pleasure, Ihad at once seized the precious pledge which I coveted. What I feared,therefore, was not so much any subsequent attack on the part of Mathiasde Gorne, but rather the indignant reproaches of his wife. What would shesay when she realized that she was a prisoner in my hands?... The reasonswhy I escaped reproach Madame de Gorne has, I believe, had the franknessto tell you. Love calls forth love. That night, in my house, broken byemotion, she confessed her feeling for me. She loved me as I loved her.Our destinies were henceforth mingled. She and I set out at five o'clockthis morning ... not foreseeing for an instant that we were amenable tothe law."

  Jerome Vignal's story was finished. He had told it straight off the reel,like a story learnt by heart and incapable of revision in any detail.

  There was a brief pause, during which Hortense whispered:

  "It all sounds quite possible and, in any case, very logical."

  "There are the objections to come," said Renine. "Wait till you hear them.They are very serious. There's one in particular...."

  The deputy-procurator stated it at once:

  "And what became of M. de Gorne in all this?"

  "Mathias de Gorne?" asked Jerome.

  "Yes. You have related, with an accent of great sincerity, a series offacts which I am quite willing to admit. Unfortunately, you have forgottena point of the first importance: what became of Mathias de Gorne? You tiedhim up here, in this room. Well, this morning he was gone."

  "Of course, Mr. Deputy, Mathias de Gorne accepted the bargain in the endand went away."

  "By what road?"

  "No doubt by the road that leads to his father's house."

  "Where are his footprints? The expanse of snow is an impartial witness.After your fight with him, we see you, on the snow, moving away. Why don'twe see him? He came and did not go away again. Where is he? There is not atrace of him ... or rather...."

  The deputy lowered his voice:

  "Or rather, yes, there are some traces on the way to the well and aroundthe well ... traces which prove that the last struggle of all took placethere.... And after that there is nothing ... not a thing...."

  Jerome shrugged his shoulders:

  "You have already mentioned this, Mr. Deputy, and it implies a charge ofhomicide against me. I have nothing to say to it."

  "Have you anything to say to the fact that your revolver was picked upwithin fifteen yards of the well?"

  "No."

  "Or to the strange coincidence between the three shots heard in the nightand the three cartri
dges missing from your revolver?"

  "No, Mr. Deputy, there was not, as you believe, a last struggle by thewell, because I left M. de Gorne tied up, in this room, and because I alsoleft my revolver here. On the other hand, if shots were heard, they werenot fired by me."

  "A casual coincidence, therefore?"

  "That's a matter for the police to explain. My only duty is to tell thetruth and you are not entitled to ask more of me."

  "And if that truth conflicts with the facts observed?"

  "It means that the facts are wrong, Mr. Deputy."

  "As you please. But, until the day when the police are able to make themagree with your statements, you will understand that I am obliged to keepyou under arrest."

  "And Madame de Gorne?" asked Jerome, greatly distressed.

  The deputy did not reply. He exchanged a few words with the commissary ofpolice and then, beckoning to a detective, ordered him to bring up one ofthe two motor-cars. Then he turned to Natalie:

  "Madame, you have heard M. Vignal's evidence. It agrees word for word withyour own. M. Vignal declares in particular that you had fainted when hecarried you away. But did you remain unconscious all the way?"

  It seemed as though Jerome's composure had increased Madame de Gorne'sassurance. She replied:

  "I did not come to, monsieur, until I was at the chateau."

  "It's most extraordinary. Didn't you hear the three shots which were heardby almost every one in the village?"

  "I did not."

  "And did you see nothing of what happened beside the well?"

  "Nothing did happen. M. Vignal has told you so."

  "Then what has become of your husband?"

  "I don't know."

  "Come, madame, you really must assist the officers of the law and at leasttell us what you think. Do you believe that there may have been an accidentand that possibly M. de Gorne, who had been to see his father and had moreto drink than usual, lost his balance and fell into the well?"

  "When my husband came back from seeing his father, he was not in the leastintoxicated."

  "His father, however, has stated that he was. His father and he had drunktwo or three bottles of wine."

  "His father is not telling the truth."

  "But the snow tells the truth, madame," said the deputy, irritably. "Andthe line of his footprints wavers from side to side."

  "My husband came in at half-past-eight, monsieur, before the snow had begunto fall."

  The deputy struck the table with his fist:

  "But, really, madame, you're going right against the evidence!... Thatsheet of snow cannot speak false!... I may accept your denial of mattersthat cannot be verified. But these footprints in the snow ... in thesnow...."

  He controlled himself.

  The motor-car drew up outside the windows. Forming a sudden resolve, hesaid to Natalie:

  "You will be good enough to hold yourself at the disposal of theauthorities, madame, and to remain here, in the manor-house...."

  And he made a sign to the sergeant to remove Jerome Vignal in the car.

  The game was lost for the two lovers. Barely united, they had to separateand to fight, far away from each other, against the most grievousaccusations.

  Jerome took a step towards Natalie. They exchanged a long, sorrowful look.Then he bowed to her and walked to the door, in the wake of the sergeant ofgendarmes.

  "Halt!" cried a voice. "Sergeant, right about ... turn!... Jerome Vignal,stay where you are!"

  The ruffled deputy raised his head, as did the other people present. Thevoice came from the ceiling. The bulls-eye window had opened and Renine,leaning through it, was waving his arms:

  "I wish to be heard!... I have several remarks to make ... especially inrespect of the zigzag footprints!... It all lies in that!... Mathias hadnot been drinking!..."

  He had turned round and put his two legs through the opening, saying toHortense, who tried to prevent him:

  "Don't move.... No one will disturb you."

  And, releasing his hold, he dropped into the room.

  The deputy appeared dumfounded:

  "But, really, monsieur, who are you? Where do you come from?"

  Renine brushed the dust from his clothes and replied:

  "Excuse me, Mr. Deputy. I ought to have come the same way as everybodyelse. But I was in a hurry. Besides, if I had come in by the door insteadof falling from the ceiling, my words would not have made the sameimpression."

  The infuriated deputy advanced to meet him:

  "Who are you?"

  "Prince Renine. I was with the sergeant this morning when he was pursuinghis investigations, wasn't I, sergeant? Since then I have been huntingabout for information. That's why, wishing to be present at the hearing,I found a corner in a little private room...."

  "You were there? You had the audacity?..."

  "One must needs be audacious, when the truth's at stake. If I had notbeen there, I should not have discovered just the one little clue which Imissed. I should not have known that Mathias de Gorne was not the least bitdrunk. Now that's the key to the riddle. When we know that, we know thesolution."

  The deputy found himself in a rather ridiculous position. Since hehad failed to take the necessary precautions to ensure the secrecy ofhis enquiry, it was difficult for him to take any steps against thisinterloper. He growled:

  "Let's have done with this. What are you asking?"

  "A few minutes of your kind attention."

  "And with what object?"

  "To establish the innocence of M. Vignal and Madame de Gorne."

  He was wearing that calm air, that sort of indifferent look which waspeculiar to him in moments of actions when the crisis of the drama dependedsolely upon himself. Hortense felt a thrill pass through her and at oncebecame full of confidence:

  "They're saved," she thought, with sudden emotion. "I asked him to protectthat young creature; and he is saving her from prison and despair."

  Jerome and Natalie must have experienced the same impression of suddenhope, for they had drawn nearer to each other, as though this stranger,descended from the clouds, had already given them the right to clasp hands.

  The deputy shrugged his shoulders:

  "The prosecution will have every means, when the time comes, ofestablishing their innocence for itself. You will be called."

  "It would be better to establish it here and now. Any delay might lead togrievous consequences."

  "I happen to be in a hurry."

  "Two or three minutes will do."

  "Two or three minutes to explain a case like this!"

  "No longer, I assure you."

  "Are you as certain of it as all that?"

  "I am now. I have been thinking hard since this morning."

  The deputy realized that this was one of those gentry who stick to youlike a leech and that there was nothing for it but to submit. In a ratherbantering tone, he asked:

  "Does your thinking enable you to tell us the exact spot where M. Mathiasde Gorne is at this moment?"

  Renine took out his watch and answered:

  "In Paris, Mr. Deputy."

  "In Paris? Alive then?"

  "Alive and, what is more, in the pink of health."

  "I am delighted to hear it. But then what's the meaning of the footprintsaround the well and the presence of that revolver and those three shots?"

  "Simply camouflage."

  "Oh, really? Camouflage contrived by whom?"

  "By Mathias de Gorne himself."

  "That's curious! And with what object?"

  "With the object of passing himself off for dead and of arrangingsubsequent matters in such a way that M. Vignal was bound to be accused ofthe death, the murder."

  "An ingenious theory," the deputy agreed, still in a satirical tone. "Whatdo you think of it, M. Vignal?"

  "It is a theory which flashed through my own mind. Mr. Deputy," repliedJerome. "It is quite likely that, after our struggle and after I had gone,Mathias de Gorne conceived a new plan by whic
h, this time, his hatred wouldbe fully gratified. He both loved and detested his wife. He held me in thegreatest loathing. This must be his revenge."

  "His revenge would cost him dear, considering that, according to yourstatement, Mathias de Gorne was to receive a second sum of sixty thousandfrancs from you."

  "He would receive that sum in another quarter, Mr. Deputy. My examinationof the financial position of the de Gorne family revealed to me the factthat the father and son had taken out a life-insurance policy in eachother's favour. With the son dead, or passing for dead, the father wouldreceive the insurance-money and indemnify his son."

  "You mean to say," asked the deputy, with a smile, "that in all thiscamouflage, as you call it, M. de Gorne the elder would act as his son'saccomplice?"

  Renine took up the challenge:

  "Just so, Mr. Deputy. The father and son are accomplices.

  "Then we shall find the son at the father's?"

  "You would have found him there last night."

  "What became of him?"

  "He took the train at Pompignat."

  "That's a mere supposition."

  "No, a certainty."

  "A moral certainty, perhaps, but you'll admit there's not the slightestproof."

  The deputy did not wait for a reply. He considered that he had displayed anexcessive goodwill and that patience has its limits and he put an end tothe interview:

  "Not the slightest proof," he repeated, taking up his hat. "And, aboveall, ... above all, there's nothing in what you've said that can contradictin the very least the evidence of that relentless witness, the snow. To goto his father, Mathias de Gorne must have left this house. Which way did hego?"

  "Hang it all, M. Vignal told you: by the road which leads from here to hisfather's!"

  "There are no tracks in the snow."

  "Yes, there are."

  "But they show him coming here and not going away from here."

  "It's the same thing."

  "What?"

  "Of course it is. There's more than one way of walking. One doesn't alwaysgo ahead by following one's nose."

  "In what other way can one go ahead?"

  "By walking backwards, Mr. Deputy."

  These few words, spoken very simply, but in a clear tone which gave fullvalue to every syllable, produced a profound silence. Those present atonce grasped their extreme significance and, by adapting it to the actualhappenings, perceived in a flash the impenetrable truth, which suddenlyappeared to be the most natural thing in the world.

  Renine continued his argument. Stepping backwards in the direction of thewindow, he said:

  "If I want to get to that window, I can of course walk straight up to it;but I can just as easily turn my back to it and walk that way. In eithercase I reach my goal."

  And he at once proceeded in a vigorous tone:

  "Here's the gist of it all. At half-past eight, before the snow fell, M. deGorne comes home from his father's house. M. Vignal arrives twenty minuteslater. There is a long discussion and a struggle, taking up three hours inall. It is then, after M. Vignal has carried off Madame de Gorne and madehis escape, that Mathias de Gorne, foaming at the mouth, wild with rage,but suddenly seeing his chance of taking the most terrible revenge, hitsupon the ingenious idea of using against his enemy the very snowfall uponwhose evidence you are now relying. He therefore plans his own murder, orrather the appearance of his murder and of his fall to the bottom of thewell and makes off backwards, step by step, thus recording his arrivalinstead of his departure on the white page."

  The deputy sneered no longer. This eccentric intruder suddenly appeared tohim in the light of a person worthy of attention, whom it would not do tomake fun of. He asked:

  "And how could he have left his father's house?"

  "In a trap, quite simply."

  "Who drove it?"

  "The father. This morning the sergeant and I saw the trap and spoke to thefather, who was going to market as usual. The son was hidden under thetilt. He took the train at Pompignat and is in Paris by now."

  Renine's explanation, as promised, had taken hardly five minutes. He hadbased it solely on logic and the probabilities of the case. And yet not ajot was left of the distressing mystery in which they were floundering. Thedarkness was dispelled. The whole truth appeared.

  Madame de Gorne wept for joy and Jerome Vignal thanked the good genius whowas changing the course of events with a stroke of his magic wand.

  "Shall we examine those footprints together, Mr. Deputy?" asked Renine. "Doyou mind? The mistake which the sergeant and I made this morning was toinvestigate only the footprints left by the alleged murderer and to neglectMathias de Gorne's. Why indeed should they have attracted our attention?Yet it was precisely there that the crux of the whole affair was to befound."

  They stepped into the orchard and went to the well. It did not need along examination to observe that many of the footprints were awkward,hesitating, too deeply sunk at the heel and toe and differing from oneanother in the angle at which the feet were turned.

  "This clumsiness was unavoidable," said Renine. "Mathias de Gorne wouldhave needed a regular apprenticeship before his backward progress couldhave equalled his ordinary gait; and both his father and he must have beenaware of this, at least as regards the zigzags which you see here since oldde Gorne went out of his way to tell the sergeant that his son had had toomuch drink." And he added "Indeed it was the detection of this falsehoodthat suddenly enlightened me. When Madame de Gorne stated that her husbandwas not drunk, I thought of the footprints and guessed the truth."

  The deputy frankly accepted his part in the matter and began to laugh:

  "There's nothing left for it but to send detectives after the boguscorpse."

  "On what grounds, Mr. Deputy?" asked Renine. "Mathias de Gorne hascommitted no offence against the law. There's nothing criminal in tramplingthe soil around a well, in shifting the position of a revolver that doesn'tbelong to you, in firing three shots or in walking backwards to one'sfather's house. What can we ask of him? The sixty thousand francs? Ipresume that this is not M. Vignal's intention and that he does not mean tobring a charge against him?"

  "Certainly not," said Jerome.

  "Well, what then? The insurance-policy in favour of the survivor? But therewould be no misdemeanour unless the father claimed payment. And I should begreatly surprised if he did.... Hullo, here the old chap is! You'll soonknow all about it."

  Old de Gorne was coming along, gesticulating as he walked. His easy-goingfeatures were screwed up to express sorrow and anger.

  "Where's my son?" he cried. "It seems the brute's killed him!... My poorMathias dead! Oh, that scoundrel of a Vignal!"

  And he shook his fist at Jerome.

  The deputy said, bluntly:

  "A word with you, M. de Gorne. Do you intend to claim your rights under acertain insurance-policy?"

  "Well, what do _you_ think?" said the old man, off his guard.

  "The fact is ... your son's not dead. People are even saying that you werea partner in his little schemes and that you stuffed him under the tilt ofyour trap and drove him to the station."

  The old fellow spat on the ground, stretched out his hand as though hewere going to take a solemn oath, stood for an instant without moving andthen, suddenly, changing his mind and his tactics with ingenuous cynicism,he relaxed his features, assumed a conciliatory attitude and burst outlaughing:

  "That blackguard Mathias! So he tried to pass himself off as dead? What arascal! And he reckoned on me to collect the insurance-money and send itto him? As if I should be capable of such a low, dirty trick!... You don'tknow me, my boy!"

  And, without waiting for more, shaking with merriment like a jolly oldfellow amused by a funny story, he took his departure, not forgetting,however, to set his great hob-nail boots on each of the compromisingfootprints which his son had left behind him.

  * * * * *

  Later, when Renine went back to the manor to let Horte
nse out, he foundthat she had disappeared.

  He called and asked for her at her cousin Ermelin's. Hortense sent downword asking him to excuse her: she was feeling a little tired and was lyingdown.

  "Capital!" thought Renine. "Capital! She avoids me, therefore she loves me.The end is not far off."

  VIII

  AT THE SIGN OF MERCURY

  _To Madame Daniel, La Ronciere, near Bassicourt._

  "PARIS 30 NOVEMBER

  "My Dearest Friend,--

  "There has been no letter from you for a fortnight; so I don't expect nowto receive one for that troublesome date of the 5th of December, which wefixed as the last day of our partnership. I rather wish it would come,because you will then be released from a contract which no longer seems togive you pleasure. To me the seven battles which we fought and won togetherwere a time of endless delight and enthusiasm. I was living beside you. Iwas conscious of all the good which that more active and stirring existencewas doing you. My happiness was so great that I dared not speak of it toyou or let you see anything of my secret feelings except my desire toplease you and my passionate devotion. To-day you have had enough of yourbrother in arms. Your will shall be law.

  "But, though I bow to your decree, may I remind I you what it was that Ialways believed our final adventure would be? May I repeat your words, notone of which I have forgotten?

  "'I demand,' you said, 'that you shall restore to me a small, antiqueclasp, made of a cornelian set in a filigree mount. It came to me from mymother; and every one knew that it used to bring her happiness and me too.Since the day when it vanished from my jewel-case, I have had nothing butunhappiness. Restore it to me, my good genius.'

  "And, when I asked you when the clasp had disappeared, you answered, with alaugh:

  "'Seven years ago ... or eight ... or nine: I don't know exactly.... Idon't know when ... I don't know how ... I know nothing about it....'

  "You were challenging me, were you not, and you set me that conditionbecause it was one which I could not fulfil? Nevertheless, I promised and Ishould like to keep my promise. What I have tried to do, in order to placelife before you in a more favourable light, would seem purposeless, if yourconfidence feels the lack of this talisman to which you attach so great avalue. We must not laugh at these little superstitions. They are often themainspring of our best actions.

  "Dear friend, if you had helped me, I should have achieved yet one morevictory. Alone and hard pushed by the proximity of the date, I have failed,not however without placing things on such a footing that the undertakingif you care to follow it up, has the greatest chance of success.

  "And you will follow it up, won't you? We have entered into a mutualagreement which we are bound to honour. It behooves us, within a fixedtime, to inscribe in the book of our common life eight good stories, towhich we shall have brought energy, logic, perseverance, some subtlety andoccasionally a little heroism. This is the eighth of them. It is for you toact so that it may be written in its proper place on the 5th of December,before the clock strikes eight in the evening.

  "And, on that day, you will act as I shall now tell you.

  "First of all--and above all, my dear, do not complain that my instructionsare fanciful: each of them is an indispensable condition of success--firstof all, cut in your cousin's garden three slender lengths of rush. Plaitthem together and bind up the two ends so as to make a rude switch, like achild's whip-lash.

  "When you get to Paris, buy a long necklace of jet beads, cut into facets,and shorten it so that it consists of seventy-five beads, of almost equalsize.

  "Under your winter cloak, wear a blue woollen gown. On your head, a toquewith red leaves on it. Round your neck, a feather boa. No gloves. No rings.

  "In the afternoon, take a cab along the left bank of the river to thechurch of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont. At four o'clock exactly, there will be,near the holy-water basin, just inside the church, an old woman dressedin black, saying her prayers on a silver rosary. She will offer you holywater. Give her your necklace. She will count the beads and hand it backto you. After this, you will walk behind her, you will cross an arm of theSeine and she will lead you, down a lonely street in the Ile Saint-Louis,to a house which you will enter by yourself.

  "On the ground-floor of this house, you will find a youngish man with avery pasty complexion. Take off your cloak and then say to him:

  "'I have come to fetch my clasp.'

  "Do not be astonished by his agitation or dismay. Keep calm in hispresence. If he questions you, if he wants to know your reason for applyingto him or what impels you to make that request, give him no explanation.Your replies must be confined to these brief formulas:

  "'I have come to fetch what belongs to me. I don't know you, I don't knowyour name; but I am obliged to come to you like this. I must have my claspreturned to me. I must.'

  "I honestly believe that, if you have the firmness not to swerve fromthat attitude, whatever farce the man may play, you will be completelysuccessful. But the contest must be a short one and the issue will dependsolely on your confidence in yourself and your certainty of success. Itwill be a sort of match in which you must defeat your opponent in the firstround. If you remain impassive, you will win. If you show hesitation oruneasiness, you can do nothing against him. He will escape you and regainthe upper hand after a first moment of distress; and the game will be lostin a few minutes. There is no midway house between victory or ... defeat.

  "In the latter event, you would be obliged--I beg you to pardon me forsaying so--again to accept my collaboration. I offer it you in advance, mydear, and without any conditions, while stating quite plainly that all thatI have been able to do for you and all that I may yet do gives me no otherright than that of thanking you and devoting myself more than ever to thewoman who represents my joy, my whole life."

  * * * * *

  Hortense, after reading the letter, folded it up and put it away at theback of a drawer, saying, in a resolute voice:

  "I sha'n't go."

  To begin with, although she had formerly attached some slight importanceto this trinket, which she had regarded as a mascot, she felt very littleinterest in it now that the period of her trials was apparently at an end.She could not forget that figure eight, which was the serial number of thenext adventure. To launch herself upon it meant taking up the interruptedchain, going back to Renine and giving him a pledge which, with his powersof suggestion, he would know how to turn to account.

  Two days before the 5th of December, she was still in the same frame ofmind. So she was on the morning of the 4th; but suddenly, without evenhaving to contend against preliminary subterfuges, she ran out into thegarden, cut three lengths of rush, plaited them as she used to do in herchildhood and at twelve o'clock had herself driven to the station. She wasuplifted by an eager curiosity. She was unable to resist all the amusingand novel sensations which the adventure, proposed by Renine, promised her.It was really too tempting. The jet necklace, the toque with the autumnleaves, the old woman with the silver rosary: how could she resist theirmysterious appeal and how could she refuse this opportunity of showingRenine what she was capable of doing?

  "And then, after all," she said to herself, laughing, "he's summoning me toParis. Now eight o'clock is dangerous to me at a spot three hundred milesfrom Paris, in that old deserted Chateau de Halingre, but nowhere else. Theonly clock that can strike the threatening hour is down there, under lockand key, a prisoner!"

  She reached Paris that evening. On the morning of the 5th she went out andbought a jet necklace, which she reduced to seventy-five beads, put ona blue gown and a toque with red leaves and, at four o'clock precisely,entered the church of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont.

  Her heart was throbbing violently. This time she was alone; and how acutelyshe now felt the strength of that support which, from unreflecting fearrather than any reasonable motive, she had thrust aside! She looked aroundher, almost hoping to see him. But there was no one there ... no one exceptan old lad
y in black, standing beside the holy water basin.

  Hortense went up to her. The old lady, who held a silver rosary in herhands, offered her holy water and then began to count the beads of thenecklace which Hortense gave her.

  She whispered:

  "Seventy-five. That's right. Come."

  Without another word, she toddled along under the light of thestreet-lamps, crossed the Pont des Tournelles to the Ile Saint-Louis andwent down an empty street leading to a cross-roads, where she stopped infront of an old house with wrought-iron balconies:

  "Go in," she said.

  And the old lady went away.

  * * * * *

  Hortense now saw a prosperous-looking shop which occupied almost thewhole of the ground-floor and whose windows, blazing with electric light,displayed a huddled array of old furniture and antiquities. She stood therefor a few seconds, gazing at it absently. A sign-board bore the words "TheMercury," together with the name of the owner of the shop, "Pancaldi."Higher up, on a projecting cornice which ran on a level with the firstfloor, a small niche sheltered a terra-cotta Mercury poised on one foot,with wings to his sandals and the caduceus in his hand, who, as Hortensenoted, was leaning a little too far forward in the ardour of his flightand ought logically to have lost his balance and taken a header into thestreet.

  "Now!" she said, under her breath.

  She turned the handle of the door and walked in.

  Despite the ringing of the bells actuated by the opening door, no one cameto meet her. The shop seemed to be empty. However, at the extreme end therewas a room at the back of the shop and after that another, both crammedwith furniture and knick-knacks, many of which looked very valuable.Hortense followed a narrow gangway which twisted and turned between twowalls built up of cupboards, cabinets and console-tables, went up two stepsand found herself in the last room of all.

  A man was sitting at a writing-desk and looking through some account-books.Without turning his head, he said:

  "I am at your service, madam.... Please look round you...."

  This room contained nothing but articles of a special character whichgave it the appearance of some alchemist's laboratory in the middle ages:stuffed owls, skeletons, skulls, copper alembics, astrolabes and allaround, hanging on the walls, amulets of every description, mainly handsof ivory or coral with two fingers pointing to ward off ill-luck.

  "Are you wanting anything in particular, madam?" asked M. Pancaldi, closinghis desk and rising from his chair.

  "It's the man," thought Hortense.

  He had in fact an uncommonly pasty complexion. A little forked beard,flecked with grey, lengthened his face, which was surmounted by a bald,pallid forehead, beneath which gleamed a pair of small, prominent,restless, shifty eyes.

  Hortense, who had not removed her veil or cloak, replied:

  "I want a clasp."

  "They're in this show-case," he said, leading the way to the connectingroom.

  Hortense glanced over the glass case and said:

  "No, no, ... I don't see what I'm looking for. I don't want just any clasp,but a clasp which I lost out of a jewel-case some years ago and which Ihave to look for here."

  She was astounded to see the commotion displayed on his features. His eyesbecame haggard.

  "Here?... I don't think you are in the least likely.... What sort of claspis it?..."

  "A cornelian, mounted in gold filigree ... of the 1830 period."

  "I don't understand," he stammered. "Why do you come to me?"

  She now removed her veil and laid aside her cloak.

  He stepped back, as though terrified by the sight of her, and whispered:

  "The blue gown!... The toque!... And--can I believe my eyes?--the jetnecklace!..."

  It was perhaps the whip-lash formed of three rushes that excited him mostviolently. He pointed his finger at it, began to stagger where he stood andended by beating the air with his arms, like a drowning man, and faintingaway in a chair.

  Hortense did not move.

  "Whatever farce he may play," Renine had written, "have the courage toremain impassive."

  Perhaps he was not playing a farce. Nevertheless she forced herself to becalm and indifferent.

  This lasted for a minute or two, after which M. Pancaldi recovered fromhis swoon, wiped away the perspiration streaming down his forehead and,striving to control himself, resumed, in a trembling voice:

  "Why do you apply to me?"

  "Because the clasp is in your possession."

  "Who told you that?" he said, without denying the accusation. "How do youknow?"

  "I know because it is so. Nobody has told me anything. I came here positivethat I should find my clasp and with the immovable determination to take itaway with me."

  "But do you know me? Do you know my name?"

  "I don't know you. I did not know your name before I read it over yourshop. To me you are simply the man who is going to give me back whatbelongs to me."

  He was greatly agitated. He kept on walking to and fro in a small emptyspace surrounded by a circle of piled-up furniture, at which he hit outidiotically, at the risk of bringing it down.

  Hortense felt that she had the whip hand of him; and, profiting by hisconfusion, she said, suddenly, in a commanding and threatening tone:

  "Where is the thing? You must give it back to me. I insist upon it."

  Pancaldi gave way to a moment of despair. He folded his hands and mumbled afew words of entreaty. Then, defeated and suddenly resigned, he said, moredistinctly:

  "You insist?..."

  "I do. You must give it to me."

  "Yes, yes, I must ... I agree."

  "Speak!" she ordered, more harshly still.

  "Speak, no, but write: I will write my secret.... And that will be the endof me."

  He turned to his desk and feverishly wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper,which he put into an envelope and sealed it:

  "See," he said, "here's my secret.... It was my whole life...."

  And, so saying, he suddenly pressed against his temple a revolver which hehad produced from under a pile of papers and fired.

  With a quick movement, Hortense struck up his arm. The bullet struck themirror of a cheval-glass. But Pancaldi collapsed and began to groan, asthough he were wounded.

  Hortense made a great effort not to lose her composure:

  "Renine warned me," she reflected. "The man's a play-actor. He has kept theenvelope. He has kept his revolver, I won't be taken in by him."

  Nevertheless, she realized that, despite his apparent calmness, the attemptat suicide and the revolver-shot had completely unnerved her. All herenergies were dispersed, like the sticks of a bundle whose string has beencut; and she had a painful impression that the man, who was grovelling ather feet, was in reality slowly getting the better of her.

  She sat down, exhausted. As Renine had foretold, the duel had not lastedlonger than a few minutes but it was she who had succumbed, thanks to herfeminine nerves and at the very moment when she felt entitled to believethat she had won.

  The man Pancaldi was fully aware of this; and, without troubling to inventa transition, he ceased his jeremiads, leapt to his feet, cut a sort ofagile caper before Hortense' eyes and cried, in a jeering tone:

  "Now we are going to have a little chat; but it would be a nuisance to beat the mercy of the first passing customer, wouldn't it?"

  He ran to the street-door, opened it and pulled down the iron shutter whichclosed the shop. Then, still hopping and skipping, he came back toHortense:

  "Oof! I really thought I was done for! One more effort, madam, and youwould have pulled it off. But then I'm such a simple chap! It seemed to methat you had come from the back of beyond, as an emissary of Providence,to call me to account; and, like a fool, I was about to give the thingback.... Ah, Mlle. Hortense--let me call you so: I used to know you by thatname--Mlle. Hortense, what you lack, to use a vulgar expression, is gut."

  He sat down beside her and, with a maliciou
s look, said, savagely:

  "The time has come to speak out. Who contrived this business? Not you; eh?It's not in your style. Then who?... I have always been honest in my life,scrupulously honest ... except once ... in the matter of that clasp. And,whereas I thought the story was buried and forgotten, here it is suddenlyraked up again. Why? That's what I want to know."

  Hortense was no longer even attempting to fight. He was bringing to bearupon her all his virile strength, all his spite, all his fears, all thethreats expressed in his furious gestures and on his features, which wereboth ridiculous and evil:

  "Speak, I want to know. If I have a secret foe, let me defend myselfagainst him! Who is he? Who sent you here? Who urged you to take action? Isit a rival incensed by my good luck, who wants in his turn to benefit bythe clasp? Speak, can't you, damn it all ... or, I swear by Heaven, I'llmake you!..."

  She had an idea that he was reaching out for his revolver and stepped back,holding her arms before her, in the hope of escaping.

  They thus struggled against each other; and Hortense, who was becomingmore and more frightened, not so much of the attack as of her assailant'sdistorted face, was beginning to scream, when Pancaldi suddenly stoodmotionless, with his arms before him, his fingers outstretched and his eyesstaring above Hortense's head:

  "Who's there? How did you get in?" he asked, in a stifled voice.

  Hortense did not even need to turn round to feel assured that Renine wascoming to her assistance and that it was his inexplicable appearance thatwas causing the dealer such dismay. As a matter of fact, a slender figurestole through a heap of easy chairs and sofas: and Renine came forward witha tranquil step.

  "Who are you?" repeated Pancaldi. "Where do you come from?"

  "From up there," he said, very amiably, pointing to the ceiling.

  "From up there?"

  "Yes, from the first floor. I have been the tenant of the floor above thisfor the past three months. I heard a noise just now. Some one was callingout for help. So I came down."

  "But how did you get in here?"

  "By the staircase."

  "What staircase?"

  "The iron staircase, at the end of the shop. The man who owned it beforeyou had a flat on my floor and used to go up and down by that hiddenstaircase. You had the door shut off. I opened it."

  "But by what right, sir? It amounts to breaking in."

  "Breaking in is allowed, when there's a fellow-creature to be rescued."

  "Once more, who are you?"

  "Prince Renine ... and a friend of this lady's," said Renine, bending overHortense and kissing her hand.

  Pancaldi seemed to be choking, and mumbled:

  "Oh, I understand!... You instigated the plot ... it was you who sent thelady...."

  "It was, M. Pancaldi, it was!"

  "And what are your intentions?"

  "My intentions are irreproachable. No violence. Simply a little interview.When that is over, you will hand over what I in my turn have come tofetch."

  "What?"

  "The clasp."

  "That, never!" shouted the dealer.

  "Don't say no. It's a foregone conclusion."

  "No power on earth, sir, can compel me to do such a thing!"

  "Shall we send for your wife? Madame Pancaldi will perhaps realize theposition better than you do."

  The idea of no longer being alone with this unexpected adversary seemed toappeal to Pancaldi. There was a bell on the table beside him. He struck itthree times.

  "Capital!" exclaimed Renine "You see, my dear, M. Pancaldi is becomingquite amiable. Not a trace left of the devil broken loose who was going foryou just now. No, M. Pancaldi only has to find himself dealing with a manto recover his qualities of courtesy and kindness. A perfect sheep! Whichdoes not mean that things will go quite of themselves. Far from it! There'sno more obstinate animal than a sheep...."

  Right at the end of the shop, between the dealer's writing-desk and thewinding staircase, a curtain was raised, admitting a woman who was holdinga door open. She might have been thirty years of age. Very simply dressed,she looked, with the apron on her, more like a cook than like the mistressof a household. But she had an attractive face and a pleasing figure.

  Hortense, who had followed Renine, was surprised to recognize her as a maidwhom she had had in her service when a girl:

  "What! Is that you, Lucienne? Are you Madame Pancaldi?"

  The newcomer looked at her, recognized her also and seemed embarrassed.Renine said to her:

  "Your husband and I need your assistance, Madame Pancaldi, to settle arather complicated matter a matter in which you played an importantpart...."

  She came forward without a word, obviously ill at ease, asking her husband,who did not take his eyes off her:

  "What is it?... What do they want with me?... What is he referring to?"

  "It's about the clasp!" Pancaldi whispered, under his breath.

  These few words were enough to make Madame Pancaldi realize to the full theseriousness of her position. And she did not try to keep her countenance orto retort with futile protests. She sank into a chair, sighing:

  "Oh, that's it!... I understand.... Mlle. Hortense has found the track....Oh, it's all up with us!"

  There was a moment's respite. The struggle between the adversaries hadhardly begun, before the husband and wife adopted the attitude of defeatedpersons whose only hope lay in the victor's clemency. Staring motionlessbefore her, Madame Pancaldi began to cry. Renine bent over her and said:

  "Do you mind if we go over the case from the beginning? We shall thensee things more clearly; and I am sure that our interview will lead to aperfectly natural solution.... This is how things happened: nine years ago,when you were lady's maid to Mlle. Hortense in the country, you made theacquaintance of M. Pancaldi, who soon became your lover. You were both ofyou Corsicans, in other words, you came from a country where superstitionsare very strong and where questions of good and bad luck, the evil eye, andspells and charms exert a profound influence over the lives of one and all.Now it was said that your young mistress' clasp had always brought luck toits owners. That was why, in a weak moment prompted by M. Pancaldi, youstole the clasp. Six months afterwards, you became Madame Pancaldi.... Thatis your whole story, is it not, told in a few sentences? The whole storyof two people who would have remained honest members of society, if theyhad been able to resist that casual temptation?... I need not tell you howyou both succeeded in life and how, possessing the talisman, believingits powers and trusting in yourselves, you rose to the first rank ofantiquarians. To-day, well-off, owning this shop, "The Mercury," youattribute the success of your undertakings to that clasp. To lose it wouldto your eyes spell bankruptcy and poverty. Your whole life has been centredupon it. It is your fetish. It is the little household god who watches overyou and guides your steps. It is there, somewhere, hidden in this jungle;and no one of course would ever have suspected anything--for I repeat, youare decent people, but for this one lapse--if an accident had not led me tolook into your affairs."

  Renine paused and continued:

  "That was two months ago, two months of minute investigations, whichpresented no difficulty to me, because, having discovered your trail, Ihired the flat overhead and was able to use that staircase ... but, allthe same, two months wasted to a certain extent because I have not yetsucceeded. And Heaven knows how I have ransacked this shop of yours! Thereis not a piece of furniture that I have left unsearched, not a plank inthe floor that I have not inspected. All to no purpose. Yes, there was onething, an incidental discovery. In a secret recess in your writing-table,Pancaldi, I turned up a little account-book in which you have set down yourremorse, your uneasiness, your fear of punishment and your dread of God'swrath.... It was highly imprudent of you, Pancaldi! People don't writesuch confessions! And, above all, they don't leave them lying about! Bethis as it may, I read them and I noted one passage, which struck meas particularly important and was of use to me in preparing my plan ofcampaign: 'Should she come to me,
the woman whom I robbed, should she cometo me as I saw her in her garden, while Lucienne was taking the clasp;should she appear to me wearing the blue gown and the toque of red leaves,with the jet necklace and the whip of three plaited rushes which she wascarrying that day; should she appear to me thus and say: "I have come toclaim my property," then I shall understand that her conduct is inspiredfrom on high and that I must obey the decree of Providence.' That is whatis written in your book, Pancaldi, and it explains the conduct of the ladywhom you call Mlle. Hortense. Acting on my instructions and in accordancewith the setting thought out by yourself, she came to you, from the back ofbeyond, to use your own expression. A little more self-possession on herpart; and you know that she would have won the day. Unfortunately, you area wonderful actor; your sham suicide put her out; and you understood thatthis was not a decree of Providence, but simply an offensive on the part ofyour former victim. I had no choice, therefore, but to intervene. Here Iam.... And now let's finish the business. Pancaldi, that clasp!"

  "No," said the dealer, who seemed to recover all his energy at the verythought of restoring the clasp.

  "And you, Madame Pancaldi."

  "I don't know where it is," the wife declared.

  "Very well. Then let us come to deeds. Madame Pancaldi, you have a son ofseven whom you love with all your heart. This is Thursday and, as on everyThursday, your little boy is to come home alone from his aunt's. Two of myfriends are posted on the road by which he returns and, in the absence ofinstructions to the contrary, will kidnap him as he passes."

  Madame Pancaldi lost her head at once:

  "My son! Oh, please, please ... not that!... I swear that I know nothing.My husband would never consent to confide in me."

  Renine continued:

  "Next point. This evening, I shall lodge an information with the publicprosecutor. Evidence: the confessions in the account-book. Consequences:action by the police, search of the premises and the rest."

  Pancaldi was silent. The others had a feeling that all these threats didnot affect him and that, protected by his fetish, he believed himselfto be invulnerable. But his wife fell on her knees at Renine's feet andstammered:

  "No, no ... I entreat you!... It would mean going to prison and I don'twant to go!... And then my son!... Oh, I entreat you!..."

  Hortense, seized with compassion, took Renine to one side:

  "Poor woman! Let me intercede for her."

  "Set your mind at rest," he said. "Nothing is going to happen to her son."

  "But your two friends?"

  "Sheer bluff."

  "Your application to the public prosecutor?"

  "A mere threat."

  "Then what are you trying to do?"

  "To frighten them out of their wits, in the hope of making them drop aremark, a word, which will tell us what we want to know. We've tried everyother means. This is the last; and it is a method which, I find, nearlyalways succeeds. Remember our adventures."

  "But if the word which you expect to hear is not spoken?"

  "It must be spoken," said Renine, in a low voice. "We must finish thematter. The hour is at hand."

  His eyes met hers; and she blushed crimson at the thought that the hour towhich he was alluding was the eighth and that he had no other object thanto finish the matter before that eighth hour struck.

  "So you see, on the one hand, what you are risking," he said to thePancaldi pair. "The disappearance of your child ... and prison: prison forcertain, since there is the book with its confessions. And now, on theother hand, here's my offer: twenty thousand francs if you hand over theclasp immediately, this minute. Remember, it isn't worth three louis."

  No reply. Madame Pancaldi was crying.

  Renine resumed, pausing between each proposal:

  "I'll double my offer.... I'll treble it.... Hang it all, Pancaldi, you'reunreasonable!... I suppose you want me to make it a round sum? All right: ahundred thousand francs."

  He held out his hand as if there was no doubt that they would give him theclasp.

  Madame Pancaldi was the first to yield and did so with a sudden outburst ofrage against her husband:

  "Well, confess, can't you?... Speak up!... Where have you hidden it?...Look here, you aren't going to be obstinate, what? If you are, it meansruin ... and poverty.... And then there's our boy!... Speak out, do!"

  Hortense whispered:

  "Renine, this is madness; the clasp has no value...."

  "Never fear," said Renine, "he's not going to accept.... But look athim.... How excited he is! Exactly what I wanted.... Ah, this, you know,is really exciting!... To make people lose their heads! To rob them of allcontrol over what they are thinking and saying!... And, in the midst ofthis confusion, in the storm that tosses them to and fro, to catch sight ofthe tiny spark which will flash forth somewhere or other!... Look at him!Look at the fellow! A hundred thousand francs for a valueless pebble ... ifnot, prison: it's enough to turn any man's head!"

  Pancaldi, in fact, was grey in the face; his lips were trembling and adrop of saliva was trickling from their corners. It was easy to guess theseething turmoil of his whole being, shaken by conflicting emotions, by theclash between greed and fear. Suddenly he burst out; and it was obviousthat his words were pouring forth at random, without his knowing in theleast what he was saying:

  "A hundred thousand francs! Two hundred thousand! Five hundred thousand! Amillion! A two fig for your millions! What's the use of millions? One losesthem. They disappear.... They go.... There's only one thing that counts:luck. It's on your side or else against you. And luck has been on my sidethese last nine years. It has never betrayed me; and you expect me tobetray it? Why? Out of fear? Prison? My son? Bosh!... No harm will come tome so long as I compel luck to work on my behalf. It's my servant, it's myfriend. It clings to the clasp. How? How can I tell? It's the cornelian,no doubt.... There are magic stones, which hold happiness, as others holdfire, or sulphur, or gold...."

  Renine kept his eyes fixed upon him, watching for the least word, the leastmodulation of the voice. The curiosity-dealer was now laughing, with anervous laugh, while resuming the self-control of a man who feels sure ofhimself: and he walked up to Renine with jerky movements that revealed anincreasing resolution:

  "Millions? My dear sir, I wouldn't have them as a gift. The little bit ofstone which I possess is worth much more than that. And the proof of itlies in all the pains which you are at to take it from me. Aha! Monthsdevoted to looking for it, as you yourself confess! Months in which youturned everything topsy-turvy, while I, who suspected nothing, did not evendefend myself! Why should I? The little thing defended itself all alone....It does not want to be discovered and it sha'n't be.... It likes beinghere.... It presides over a good, honest business that satisfies it....Pancaldi's luck! Why, it's known to all the neighbourhood, among all thedealers! I proclaim it from the house-tops: 'I'm a lucky man!' I even madeso bold as to take the god of luck, Mercury, as my patron! He too protectsme. See, I've got Mercuries all over my shop! Look up there, on that shelf,a whole row of statuettes, like the one over the front-door, proofs signedby a great sculptor who went smash and sold them to me.... Would you likeone, my dear sir? It will bring you luck too. Take your pick! A presentfrom Pancaldi, to make up to you for your defeat! Does that suit you?"

  He put a stool against the wall, under the shelf, took down a statuette andplumped it into Renine's arms. And, laughing heartily, growing more andmore excited as his enemy seemed to yield ground and to fall back beforehis spirited attack, he explained:

  "Well done! He accepts! And the fact that he accepts shows that we are allagreed! Madame Pancaldi, don't distress yourself. Your son's coming backand nobody's going to prison! Good-bye, Mlle. Hortense! Good-day, sir!Hope to see you again! If you want to speak to me at any time, just givethree thumps on the ceiling. Good-bye ... don't forget your present ...and may Mercury be kind to you! Good-bye, my dear Prince! Good-bye, Mlle.Hortense!..."

  He hustled them to the iron staircase, gripped each of
them by the arm inturn and pushed them up to the little door hidden at the top of the stairs.

  And the strange thing was that Renine made no protest. He did not attemptto resist. He allowed himself to be led along like a naughty child that istaken up to bed.

  Less than five minutes had elapsed between the moment when he made hisoffer to Pancaldi and the moment when Pancaldi turned him out of the shopwith a statuette in his arms.

  * * * * *

  The dining-room and drawing-room of the flat which Renine had taken on thefirst floor looked out upon the street. The table in the dining-room waslaid for two.

  "Forgive me, won't you?" said Renine, as he opened the door of thedrawing-room for Hortense. "I thought that, whatever happened, I shouldmost likely see you this evening and that we might as well dine together.Don't refuse me this kindness, which will be the last favour granted in ourlast adventure."

  Hortense did not refuse him. The manner in which the battle had ended wasso different from everything that she had seen hitherto that she feltdisconcerted. At any rate, why should she refuse, seeing that the terms ofthe contract had not been fulfilled?

  Renine left the room to give an order to his manservant. Two minutes later,he came back for Hortense. It was then a little past seven.

  There were flowers on the table; and the statue of Mercury, Pancaldi'spresent, stood overtopping them.

  "May the god of luck preside over our repast," said Renine.

  He was full of animation and expressed his great delight at having hersitting opposite him:

  "Yes," he exclaimed, "I had to resort to powerful means and attract you bythe bait of the most fabulous enterprises. You must confess that my letterwas jolly smart! The three rushes, the blue gown; simply irresistible!And, when I had thrown in a few puzzles of my own invention, such as theseventy-five beads of the necklace and the old woman with the silverrosary, I knew that you were bound to succumb to the temptation. Don't beangry with me. I wanted to see you and I wanted it to be today. You havecome and I thank you."

  He next told her how he had got on the track of the stolen trinket:

  "You hoped, didn't you, in laying down that condition, that I shouldn't beable to fulfil it? You made a mistake, my dear. The test, at least at thebeginning, was easy enough, because it was based upon an undoubted fact:the talismanic character attributed to the clasp. I had only to hunt aboutand see whether among the people around you, among your servants, there wasever any one upon whom that character may have exercised some attraction.Now, on the list of persons which I succeeded in drawing up. I at oncenoticed the name of Mlle. Lucienne, as coming from Corsica. This was mystarting-point. The rest was a mere concatenation of events."

  Hortense stared at him in amazement. How was it that he was accepting hisdefeat with such a careless air and even talking in a tone of triumph,whereas really he had been soundly beaten by Pancaldi and even made to lookjust a trifle ridiculous?

  She could not help letting him feel this; and the fashion in which she didso betrayed a certain disappointment, a certain humiliation:

  "Everything is a concatenation of events: very well. But the chain isbroken, because, when all is said, though you know the thief, you did notsucceed in laying hands upon the stolen clasp."

  The reproach was obvious. Renine had not accustomed her to failure. Andfurthermore she was irritated to see how heedlessly he was accepting ablow which, after all, entailed the ruin of any hopes that he might haveentertained.

  He did not reply. He had filled their two glasses with champagne and wasslowly emptying his own, with his eyes fixed on the statuette of Mercury.He turned it about on its pedestal and examined it with the eye of adelighted connoisseur:

  "What a beautiful thing is a harmonious line! Colour does not uplift meso much as outline, proportion, symmetry and all the wonderful propertiesof form. Look at this little statue. Pancaldi's right: it's the work ofa great artist. The legs are both slender and muscular; the whole figuregives an impression of buoyancy and speed. It is very well done. There'sonly one fault, a very slight one: perhaps you've not noticed it?"

  "Yes, I have," said Hortense. "It struck me the moment I saw the sign,outside. You mean, don't you, a certain lack of balance? The god is leaningover too far on the leg that carries him. He looks as though he were goingto pitch forward."

  "That's very clever of you," said Renine. "The fault is almostimperceptible and it needs a trained eye to see it. Really, however, asa matter of logic, the weight of the body ought to have its way and, inaccordance with natural laws, the little god ought to take a header."

  After a pause he continued:

  "I noticed that flaw on the first day. How was it that I did not draw aninference at once? I was shocked because the artist had sinned againstan aesthetic law, whereas I ought to have been shocked because he hadoverlooked a physical law. As though art and nature were not blendedtogether! And as though the laws of gravity could be disturbed withoutsome fundamental reason!"

  "What do you mean?" asked Hortense, puzzled by these reflections, whichseemed so far removed from their secret thoughts. "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, nothing!" he said. "I am only surprised that I didn't understandsooner why Mercury did not plump forward, as he should have done."

  "And what is the reason?"

  "The reason? I imagine that Pancaldi, when pulling the statuette about tomake it serve his purpose, must have disturbed its balance, but that thisbalance was restored by something which holds the little god back and whichmakes up for his really too dangerous posture."

  "Something, you say?"

  "Yes, a counterweight."

  Hortense gave a start. She too was beginning to see a little light. Shemurmured:

  "A counterweight?... Are you thinking that it might be ... in thepedestal?"

  "Why not?"

  "Is that possible? But, if so, how did Pancaldi come to give you thisstatuette?"

  "He never gave me _this_ one," Renine declared. "I took this onemyself."

  "But where? And when?"

  "Just now, while you were in the drawing-room. I got out of that window,which is just over the signboard and beside the niche containing the littlegod. And I exchanged the two, that is to say, I took the statue which wasoutside and put the one which Pancaldi gave me in its place."

  "But doesn't that one lean forward?"

  "No, no more than the others do, on the shelf in his shop. But Pancaldiis not an artist. A lack of equilibrium does not impress him; he will seenothing wrong; and he will continue to think himself favoured by luck,which is another way of saying that luck will continue to favour him.Meanwhile, here's the statuette, the one used for the sign. Am I to breakthe pedestal and take your clasp out of the leaden sheath, soldered to theback of the pedestal, which keeps Mercury steady?"

  "No, no, there's no need for that," Hortense hurriedly murmured.

  Renine's intuition, his subtlety, the skill with which he had managed thewhole business: to her, for the moment, all these things remained in thebackground. But she suddenly remembered that the eighth adventure wascompleted, that Renine had surmounted every obstacle, that the test hadturned to his advantage and that the extreme limit of time fixed for thelast of the adventures was not yet reached.

  He had the cruelty to call attention to the fact:

  "A quarter to eight," he said.

  An oppressive silence fell between them. Both felt its discomfort to sucha degree that they hesitated to make the least movement. In order to breakit, Renine jested:

  "That worthy M. Pancaldi, how good it was of him to tell me what I wishedto know! I knew, however, that by exasperating him, I should end by pickingup the missing clue in what he said. It was just as though one were to handsome one a flint and steel and suggest to him that he was to use it. In theend, the spark is obtained. In my case, what produced the spark was theunconscious but inevitable comparison which he drew between the cornelianclasp, the element of luck, and Mercury, the god of luck. T
hat was enough.I understood that this association of ideas arose from his having actuallyassociated the two factors of luck by embodying one in the other, or, tospeak more plainly, by hiding the trinket in the statuette. And I at onceremembered the Mercury outside the door and its defective poise...."

  Renine suddenly interrupted himself. It seemed to him that all his remarkswere falling on deaf ears. Hortense had put her hand to her forehead and,thus veiling her eyes, sat motionless and remote.

  She was indeed not listening. The end of this particular adventure and themanner in which Renine had acted on this occasion no longer interested her.What she was thinking of was the complex series of adventures amid whichshe had been living for the past three months and the wonderful behaviourof the man who had offered her his devotion. She saw, as in a magicpicture, the fabulous deeds performed by him, all the good that he haddone, the lives saved, the sorrows assuaged, the order restored whereverhis masterly will had been brought to bear. Nothing was impossible tohim. What he undertook to do he did. Every aim that he set before himwas attained in advance. And all this without excessive effort, with thecalmness of one who knows his own strength and knows that nothing canresist it.

  Then what could she do against him? Why should she defend herself and how?If he demanded that she should yield, would he not know how to make her doso and would this last adventure be any more difficult for him than theothers? Supposing that she ran away: did the wide world contain a retreatin which she would be safe from his pursuit? From the first moment of theirfirst meeting, the end was certain, since Renine had decreed that it shouldbe so.

  However, she still cast about for weapons, for protection of some sort; andshe said to herself that, though he had fulfilled the eight conditions andrestored the cornelian clasp to her before the eighth hour had struck, shewas nevertheless protected by the fact that this eighth hour was to strikeon the clock of the Chateau de Halingre and not elsewhere. It was a formalcompact. Renine had said that day, gazing on the lips which he longed tokiss:

  "The old brass pendulum will start swinging again; and, when, on the fixeddate, the clock once more strikes eight, then...."

  She looked up. He was not moving either, but sat solemnly, patientlywaiting.

  She was on the point of saying, she was even preparing her words:

  "You know, our agreement says it must be the Halingre clock. All the otherconditions have been fulfilled ... but not this one. So I am free, am Inot? I am entitled not to keep my promise, which, moreover, I never made,but which in any case falls to the ground?... And I am perfectly free ...released from any scruple of conscience?..."

  She had not time to speak. At that precise moment, there was a click behindher, like that of a clock about to strike.

  A first stroke sounded, then a second, then a third.

  Hortense moaned. She had recognized the very sound of the old clock, theHalingre clock, which three months ago, by breaking in a supernaturalmanner the silence of the deserted chateau, had set both of them on theroad of the eight adventures.

  She counted the strokes. The clock struck eight.

  "Ah!" she murmured, half swooning and hiding her face in her hands. "Theclock ... the clock is here ... the one from over there ... I recognize itsvoice...."

  She said no more. She felt that Renine had his eyes fixed upon her and thissapped all her energies. Besides, had she been able to recover them, shewould have been no better off nor sought to offer him the least resistance,for the reason that she did not wish to resist. All the adventures wereover, but one remained to be undertaken, the anticipation of which wipedout the memory of all the rest. It was the adventure of love, the mostdelightful, the most bewildering, the most adorable of all adventures. Sheaccepted fate's decree, rejoicing in all that might come, because she wasin love. She smiled in spite of herself, as she reflected that happinesswas again to enter her life at the very moment when her well-beloved wasbringing her the cornelian clasp.

  The clock struck the hour for the second time.

  Hortense raised her eyes to Renine. She struggled a few seconds longer. Butshe was like a charmed bird, incapable of any movement of revolt; and atthe eighth stroke she fell upon his breast and offered him her lips....

  THE END