The Sun was low on the horizon, above which it seemed to be rolling like a golden discus along a circular track. It never set at this time of year, its light varying only with the weather; at present, it was projecting over this desolate landscape a sinister Apocalyptic radiance, because it was partly veiled by a sort of mist, which decomposed its light into a spectrum dominated by sallow orange and somber red. Above the glacial expanses, the sky was like a low vault composed of a lugubrious red fog.
“What a spectacle of desolation and horror!” said the Nyctalope, softly.
“It’s not always like this,” said Carter, long familiarity having rendered him far less sensitive to such terrestrial and solar phantasmagorias than Saint-Clair was. “Sometimes, especially at this time of year, the sky is pure and the Sun clear, and then it’s a fairyland of luminous whites and fantastic blues...”
The Nyctalope made no reply. He continued his contemplation. Soon, though, he saw neither ice nor water; the sinister games of the Sun and clouds left him indifferent. He saw with the eyes of his imagination alone: constructions of basalt partly covered by snow and ice; and, at the summit of the tallest of those buildings, a sparkling dome–the crystal dome under which the complex, mysterious and macabre Teledynamo squatted, with its seven skeletal skulls...
“Monsieur,” said a voice next to him, “it’s time to go back to the station.”
Saint-Clair shivered. Slowly, he unfolded his arms, looked at Elias Carter for a few seconds before he recognized him, and said: “That’s right–let’s go down.”
XI. Professor Lourmel’s Idea
On the outskirts of the station, Leo Saint-Clair saw Professor Lourmel running towards him.
“Something new, Professor?” the Nyctalope said.
“As regards events, no. In my head, yes.” Taking Saint-Clair by the arm, the Professor spoke rapidly, while continuing to walk with him towards the buildings. “My dear friend, cast your mind back to the point you were at when, in the council, you envisaged what we might do with Laurence if your diva, in accordance with Rupert VI’s revelations, were to be hypnotized and subject to Lucifer’s suggestive influence.”
“I remember,” said the Nyctalope.
“You said then...?”
“I said, in effect: We’ll let him play the enemy, let him plant a suggestion in Laure’s mind, and we’ll listen to what he inspires you to tell us. As we’re now forewarned and won’t be fooled, perhaps what you say to me will be useful rather than inimical. That’s what I said.”
Lourmel cut him off abruptly. “No!”
“What do you mean, no?” said Saint-Clair, astonished.
“You’ll see. How do you know that Lucifer, hypnotizing Laurence at a distance, won’t be able to read the young woman’s thoughts as well? How do you know that he won’t learn by that means everything she knows about our plans–your plan, your imminent action?”
“Oh! That’s true!” said the Nyctalope, shivering.
“I think so too–so it’s necessary to modify it. It’s necessary to do something other than what you supposed then.”
“How?”
“Very simply. Since Lucifer intends to make use of Laurence or Rupert VI, let’s remove Rupert VI and Laurence from his as-yet-limited power. We know all about Lucifer, the Teledynamo and Fort Warteck. We even know that the accursed von Warteck will inform us, via Laurence or Rupert, that Irène, Henri and the Lampas are at the submarine station. What good does it do, then, to leave Laurence and Rupert at his disposition? That might be useful to him, but it is not useful to us.”
“So?”
“So, enclose Laurence and Rupert in the radioactive bell-jar. Then, when he seeks to plant suggestions in their minds, Lucifer will not find them–just as, previously, there was an interval in which he could no longer find Hunter.”
“True again–very true!” Saint-Clair said, approvingly. “But you can’t keep them in the atmosphere of the bell-jar indefinitely. Exactly when, and for how long...?”
“That objection’s anticipated. Since you agree with me, I’ll take Laurence aboard the Uberalles immediately. She and Rupert will be in the cabin where the bell-jar is, with me keeping a close watch on them. As soon as one or other of them betrays Lucifer’s magnetic influence by their attitude, I’ll put them in the bell-jar!”
Despite the seriousness of these conjectures, Saint-Clair could not help smiling, and his smile broadened as a thought struck him. “My dear Professor,” he said, “I agree entirely, Yes, that’s what we must do. It’s all the more necessary to do it because it gives us a good reason for preventing Laure from taking part in my expedition against Fort Warteck. She is absolutely determined to come. How could I oppose it? I had no good reason to make her stay here instead of risking her life with mine–until now, thanks to your idea...”
“It’s settled, then.”
“It’s settled.”
“You’ll talk to Laurence right away?”
“Right away–but you must come too and talk to her. It will be difficult to convince her.”
“Let’s go!”
The two men went into Elmwood’s main building together. Everyone was working hard on the preparation of the white clothing demanded by the Nyctalope. La Païli and Grisyl were in a group with Romski, Berge, Dopp and Wolf.
“Laure!” called Saint-Clair. The diva raised her head. “Would you come here for a moment? The Professor and I need to talk to you.”
The young woman got up, already anxious, for she knew that anything new that came up might derail her plan of action–the enigmatic plan that also involved Grisyl, and into which the singer had so easily drawn Lieutenant Romski, without revealing its entirety. With Saint-Clair and Lourmel, Laurence went into a small room, which normally served as Sir Patrick Swires’s study.
“Listen, Laure,” Saint-Clair said, gravely, after closing the door to the main hall. Taking his lover’s hands in his, he explained the dangers presented by Lucifer’s magnetic influence over her, and the Professor’s idea, adding further arguments. From time to time, Lourmel lent a supporting comment to the Nyctalope’s speech. The more the latter said, the more Laurence suffered, for she could not deny that Saint-Clair and Lourmel were right. She could see no valid argument with which to oppose them, and she could see the implicit consequence of it all: she would not be able to depart on the RC3 with Romski and Grisyl.
Her exasperation was so intense that she interrupted Saint-Clair to say, with the mixture of sincerity and reticence that is not the least of the manifestations of amorous devotion: “But in order to be with you without getting in your way, I wanted to ask you if Grisyl and I might take the places of Berge and Dopp in Romski’s aircraft, while they traveled in yours!”
Thus, in Laurence’s mind, one detail of her plan was modified; it was not surreptitiously that she and Grisyl would replace Berge and Dopp, but with the Nyctalope’s consent–for the young woman thought that her lover could not, in the final analysis, find any powerful reason for refusing to let her take part, with Grisyl, in the expedition. But the reason already existed!
“I would indeed have given you permission, Laure,” Saint-Clair said, “but we have to make sure that the Professor does not expose me to the dangers that we would all run if Lucifer were to take control of your mind. We have to yield to the actual necessity–we have to, my darling Laure.”
Yes, that would have been the “actual necessity,” as the Nyctalope put it, if La Païli’s plan had not existed. For her, though, the imperious necessity was to do, with Grisyl and Romski, what she had planned–which would, she thought, ensure a conclusive victory without exposing the Nyctalope to more than a minimum of danger.
She was tempted to reply to Saint-Clair’s objections by exposing her own plan, but she kept silent. He would never consent! He would even be capable of putting Romski under arrest to prevent its execution, and organizing a system of surveillance that would make it absolutely impossible for her and Grisyl to act.
&nb
sp; La Païli gave in, but reserved the intention of acting on her own behalf, if the opportunity arose. Why should it not arise? she said to herself. Smiling, her eyes moist with emotion, proud of the afterthought that gave her words a meaning that Saint-Clair would not suspect, she murmured: “Whoever has love for a guide and support walks with a calm and sure tread, watched over by the gods...”
“Laure, my darling Laure, my beloved!”
Lourmel had made a discreet exit. The two lovers bid one another adieu, for La Païli was going aboard the Uberalles, which would soon depart; she would not see Saint-Clair again until after the victory...
They were entwined, standing face to face, looking at one another, both very pale. He was thinking that he might be killed. She was thinking that she might not succeed.
“Laure,” he said, “if I don’t come back...”
“I shall die, Leo!”
“No, live! You must live, Laure, if Lucifer is defeated. Swear to me that you will live!”
“If Lucifer is defeated, you want me to live?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Even if you are dead?”
“Yes, Laure, yes. You owe a duty to your audience, for whom you incarnate such beautiful dreams. You do not have the right to die so young, in the splendor of your beauty, in the daily-renewed marvel of your talent.”
“So be it. I shall live, since to live is to obey you. But if Lucifer in victorious...”
“Oh, Laure, my Laure! Not in his hands... You... Not in his hands...”
“He shall not have me, Leo. And if I can avenge you, and defeat him in my turn–yes, defeat him! One Delilah was sufficient against a Samson that thousands of men could not lay low. Judith had but one gesture to make to kill Holofernes, whom armies had not been able to vanquish...”
“Yes, Laure, but...” The Nyctalope’s voice trembled as he added: “But Delilah and Judith, before triumphing over their man...”
“I hear you. Shut up! Were my lover dead, beloved, what would my virtue matter? If the sacrifice were necessary to avenge you and strike the monster down, provided that I could purify myself thereafter by dying voluntarily...”
“Shut up!”
Their lips met. Quivering, they mingled their souls. Then, suddenly, he drew away from her. He moved her aside, and after one last glance, he left as if he were fleeing. As he crossed the threshold, though, he pulled himself together and mastered himself again.
Lourmel was waiting for him. “My friend,” he said, effortfully, in a low and halting voice, “I leave her and entrust her to you. Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” said Lourmel, unsurprised by the question, so open was his mind, at that moment, to all questions.
“Well, pray to Him that I defeat Lucifer!” And he went outside, to be alone for a few minutes, in order not to see Laurence when she went down to the shore and then, in a launch, to the submarine.
A few minutes went by. In the main hall where everyone was working at their allotted tasks, the Professor waited for Laurence. Grisyl and Romski were watching anxiously, wondering what was happening.
La Païli reappeared, apparently quite calm. She smiled at Lourmel. “My dear Professor, I’ll be with you in a moment. You’ll permit me to keep Grisyl close by, won’t you? Leo has no more need of her–she has no fixed role in the expedition.”
“As you wish,” said Lourmel.
“Then I’ll go fetch her.”
And Laurence headed for Grisyl and Romski. She leaned over them, so that they could both hear her, and spoke in a whisper, so that they were the only ones who could hear her. “Nothing essential has changed, but our action will have an unexpected prologue. Don’t ask me for explanations; I haven’t time. You’re coming with me now, Grisyl.”
“Fine.”
“Romski, be ready with the aircraft, as soon as possible–and be alert. We might have to act under the Nyctalope’s very eyes and against his orders.”
“I’m entirely yours,” whispered the officer.
“Keep an eye on the submarine. As soon as you see us come out, take off. Grisyl will lift up her arms. Leave Berge and Dopp behind.”
“Right.”
“Can you pass over the submarine, almost grazing the gangway?”
“I see what you’re getting at. Yes, I can–but at too great a speed for you to grab hold of the struts supporting the wheels or the floats.”
“What, then?” said Laure, tapping her foot. “It has to be done.”
“It will be,” Romski replied. “I can start off rolling towards the shore, then skim the surface of the water at low speed, stopping close to the submarine–for one second! You can walk along the edge of the lower wing to get to the bucket-seats; then I can move away and take off.”
“Very good! I’m counting on you, Romski. I think you’d better bring some furs–the cloaks that we’ll have with us won’t be sufficient.”
“Understood. Has the boss told you the departure time?”
“No, but it will be around 9 or 10 p.m. Everything will be ready at 8, but there will still be dispositions to arrange. Enough talk. Be careful, Romski.”
“My life is yours.”
“I shall make use of it.”
“You may abuse it if you wish.”
“That might be necessary. Come on, Grisyl.”
The two women walked towards Lourmel. The discussion had lasted less than a minute.
Outside, Leo Saint-Clair had taken refuge behind the corner of the barracks, in a part of the station where he could not be seen by the men working in the open, but from which he had a perfect view of the route that Laurence and Lourmel would take in going to the dinghy that would carry them to the submarine–for the Nyctalope was suffering. He was suffering as a man suffers who, after having lost his adored lover and found her again more amorous and more beautiful than he remembered her, is on the point of losing her again–thus time, perhaps, forever...
Saint-Clair had no illusions about the dangers he would run in his offensive against Fort Warteck. This time, it was the final battle. No feint, no subterfuge, no strategic retreat or evasion could interrupt this combat to prepare for another. This time, it was necessary to win or be defeated; neither result could be postponed. Only five days–six at the most–remained to the Nyctalope to complete his task. After that, it would be finished, with no more hope in the case of defeat, no more apprehension in the case of victory. There were so many mortal risks, known and unknown; it was impossible to calculate the way the dice would fall. What lover would not have suffered amid such conjectures? Saint-Clair was suffering; he wanted to see La Païli–the woman he truly loved–one last time. And he saw her.
Between Lourmel and Grisyl, the young woman walked rapidly over the pebble-strewn and snow-covered ground. She was wrapped in a long white fur coat, with white furry boots, coiffed by a bonnet made of white fox-fur. She was shorter in stature than Grisyl and Lourmel.
Saint-Clair needed all his strength of mind not to call out to her or run after her–oh, to embrace his beloved once more, to see her ardent soul in her beautiful eyes, to savor the disturbing taste of her lips... But no! Destiny had spoken. Saint-Clair did not move.
He only thought specifically about Grisyl when he saw the young woman climb into the dinghy first. Two sailors from the Uberalles, who were wandering on the beach a short distance away immediately ran back to it.
Is she going too? he said to himself. Good idea–I don’t need her. She’ll be good company for Laure aboard the submarine–but she might come back alone, to ask me for a place in an aircraft. I’ll refuse. Better that Laure and Grisyl aren’t separated...
Forcing back the tears that he felt welling up beneath his eyelids, La Païli’s lover remained hidden where he was, seeing without being seen, until the moment when the two women and the Professor disappeared into the submarine. Before going down the ladder to the main deck, Laurence turned towards Elmwood station, and waved goodbye.
“Shall I see her again?” Sai
nt-Clair murmured. He strangled a sob, and leaned on the wooden wall for a few seconds–but his weakness was brief. The Nyctalope stood up straight again, his face calm and serious, and it was with the attitude, gait and thoughts of a leader that he walked towards the landing-strip where the aviators were getting the aircraft ready.
XII. La Païli’s Plan
Laurence and Grisyl were immediately taken to the cabin that had been modified to accommodate and facilitate the use of the radioactive bell-jar. Rupert VI was still lodged in the bell-jar, drowsing in a comfortable armchair, watched by a man named Chabot.
Chabot was a highly intelligent laboratory assistant of about 30, who had embarked with his employer, Professor Lourmel. In Paris, Chabot had worked on the construction, assembly and experimental testing of the radioactive chamber. During the submarine journey, the Professor had completed his specialist instruction, and was now able to put the utmost confidence in him.
“Good day, Chabot. Anything new?” Lourmel said, as they entered the cabin.
“No sir. Rupert has not come out of his trance. I’ve given him food and water and even took him for a walk in the crew’s quarters while the valves were opened to renew the atmosphere. When he was put back into the bell-jar, he became drowsy. I’ve taken his temperature and pulse; everything’s normal.”
“Perfect!”
With the natural interest of an experimenter, combined with the keen curiosity of an indefatigable student of life’s marvels, Lourmel was completely taken up with the “Rupert case” for several more minutes. He observed the somnolent subject and interrogated the enthusiastic Chabot further, apparently forgetting Laurence Païli. The young woman took advantage of the opportunity to take Grisyl to one side. She had not said everything in front of the Polish officer because there was no time to spare and because the Professor, who was then attentive to her alone, would have been surprised by a long conversation. She had assumed that Lourmel would not always be so constantly at hand on the Uberalles and that she would be able to communicate her entire plan to Grisyl there.
The Nyctalope vs Lucifer 3: The Triumph of the Nyctalope Page 11
