Back Aa

Messengers of Evil

<h2>XII</h2> <h3>INVESTIGATIONS</h3> A man jumped quickly out of the Auteuil-Madeleine tram. It would have been difficult to guess his age, or see his face. He wore a large soft hat—a Brazilian sombrero—whose edges he had turned down. The collar of his overcoat was turned up, so that the lower part of his face was so far buried in it that his features were almost hidden. Then, during the entire journey, seated at the end of the tramcar he had kept his back turned on the other passenger: he seemed to be absorbed in watching the movements of the driver. At the end of the rue Mozart, where the rues La Fontaine, Poussin, des Perchamps meet, he had quitted the tram with real satisfaction. Then, in the silence of the evening, the clock of Auteuil church had slowly struck eight silvery strokes. The listening man murmured: "Oh, there's no hurry after all. I've a two good hours' wait in front of me!" Leaving the frequented ways, he plunged into the little by-streets, newly made and not yet named, which join the end of the rue Mozart with the boulevard Montmorency. He walked fast, at the same time taking his bearings. "Rue Raffet?... If I don't deceive myself, it lies in this direction!" He reached the hilly and lonely road bearing that name, which, on both sides of its entire length, is bordered by attractive private residences. Swiftly, silently, stealthily, this individual approached one of these houses. He glanced through the garden railing, scrutinising the windows which were lighted up. "Good! Good! Decidedly good!" he said, in a low tone of satisfaction.... "But there's two hours to wait ... they are still in the dining-room, if I am to go by the lighted windows." The watcher now inspected the rue Raffet. The house which interested him so much, was situated just where the rue du Docteur Blanche opens into the street at right angles. Auteuil is certainly not a frequented part, but, as a rule, the rue Raffet is generally more lonely than any of the streets in Auteuil: no carriages, no pedestrians. From an early hour in the evening, that hilly road was, more often than not, quite deserted, so was the rue du Docteur Blanche, still surrounded by waste land, and more especially at the rue Raffet end. A glance or two sufficed to show the man the lie of the land. He noted the feeble glimmer of the street lamps; he made certain that not one of the neighbouring houses could perceive his actions, mark his movements. He repeated in a theatrical tone of voice with a note of amusement in it. "Not a soul! Not a solitary soul! Well, it is no joke to wait here; but, after all, it is a quiet spot, and I can count on not being disturbed in the job I have in hand to-night...." This individual traversed the rue Raffet, gained the rue du Docteur Blanche, and, wrapping himself up in his voluminous black cloak, ensconced himself in a break in the palisades bordering the pavement. He stood there motionless; anyone might have passed within a few yards of him without suspecting his presence, so still was he, so imperceptibly did his dark figure blend with the blackness of the night. He started slightly. The church clock struck nine, its notes sounding silvery clear through the tranquil night ... in the distance some convent clock chimed an evening prayer, then a deeper silence fell on the darkness of night.... Suddenly, the front door of the house, which the stranger had watched with scrutinising intentness, was thrown wide open, showing a large, luminous square in the darkness. Two women were speaking. "Are you going out, my darling?" asked the elder. "Don't be anxious, madame," replied a girlish voice. "There is no need to wait for me. I am only going to the post...." "Why not give Jules your letter?" "No, I prefer to post it myself." "You would not like someone to go with you? There are not many people about at this hour...." The same fresh, young voice replied: "Oh, I am not frightened ... besides it's only rue Raffet which is deserted; as soon as I reach rue Mozart there will be nothing more to fear!" The luminous square, drawn on the obscurity of the garden, disappeared. The mysterious stranger, who had not lost a word of this conversation, heard the door of the vestibule close, then the gravel of the garden crunch under the feet of the girl coming down the path. Very soon the gate of the garden grated on its badly oiled hinges, and then the elegant outline of a young girl was visible on the badly lighted pavement. She was walking fast.... The stranger remained stationary until the girl had gone some way; then pressing against the wall, concealing his movements with practised ability, he followed her at a discreet distance.... "There can be no doubt about it," he murmured. "I recognised her voice directly!... It's the very deuce!... It's going to complicate matters!... A lover's meeting? Not likely!... She must be going to the post, as she said.... She will return in about a quarter of an hour, and then ... then!..." The girl was far from suspecting that she was being followed. She had walked down rue Mozart, turned into rue Poussin, posted her letter, and then walked quietly back to the house. The stranger had not followed her into the more frequented streets: he awaited her return in a dark and deserted side street. When she came into view again, he sighed a sigh of great satisfaction. "Ah, there is the dear child!... That's all right.... Now we shall have some fun!... or, rather, I shall!" Anyone seeing his face, whilst making these significant exclamations, would have been frightened by his sneering chuckle, his hideous grin. A few minutes later, the girl re-entered the little garden of the house in the rue Raffet. A stout woman opened to her ring. "Ah, there you are, darling." There was relief in her tone. "Yes, here I am, safe and sound, madame!" "Nothing unpleasant—no one molested you, Elizabeth?" Elizabeth Dollon, for she it was, shook her head and smiled a smile both sad and sweet. "Ah, no, madame!... I was sure you would be waiting for me—I am so sorry!" "No, not at all!... Tell me, Elizabeth.... Jules has told me that you would not be going out to-morrow. The poor fellow is so stupid that I ask myself if he has not made a mistake?" "No," said Elizabeth. "It is quite true.... I do not think I shall go out, either in the morning or the afternoon." "You expect a caller?" "It is possible someone may come to see me.... If by any chance I have to go out for a few minutes, to get something or other, I must warn Jules: he must make the visitor wait: I shall not go far in case..." "All right! That's settled then, darling. Now, good night, I am going to my room." "Good evening, madame, and good night!" Leaving stout and kindly Madame Bourrat, owner of this private boarding-house where Elizabeth Dollon had found a refuge, the poor girl, still with a smile on her pale lips, made her way upstairs, entered her bedroom, and carefully locked the door. She lit the lamp. Her face now wore a tragic look: its expression was wild and desperate.... "If only he would come!" she sighed.... "Ah, I am afraid! I am afraid!... I am terribly afraid!" Elizabeth stood motionless—a frozen image of fear—all but her eyes: they were casting terrified glances about her.... And no wonder! Elizabeth was neatness personified, and her room was kept with exquisite care—but now, everything was in the greatest disorder.... The drawers of her chest of drawers were piled one on top of the other in a corner of the room; their contents were thrown down in heaps a little way off; books had been cast pell-mell on a sofa; a great wicker trunk, wherein Elizabeth had packed numerous papers belonging to her brother, was overturned on the floor, the lid open. Its contents were scattered near—a confused mass of documents and crumpled papers. Elizabeth stared about her for a long minute, and again she cried: "Oh, if only he would come! What is the meaning of all this?..." She regained her self-control. Her usual expression of serene gravity returned. "To go to sleep," she murmured. "That is the best thing—to-morrow will come more quickly so—and, oh, I am so sleepy, so very, very tired!" Soon Elizabeth blew out her lamp—darkness reigned in her room. <hr style='width: 45%;' /> It was about half-past ten o'clock, and the light in Elizabeth Dollon's room had been extinguished for some little while, when the front door of the little house was opened again.... Noiselessly, with infinite precautions, with searching and suspicious glances, taking care to keep off the gravel of the paths, tip-toeing on the grass edging the flower beds, where his steps made no sound, a man left the house and went towards the garden gate. He quickly reached it; and there he commenced to whistle a soft, slow, monotonous, and continuous whistle. Second succeeded second; then another whistle, identical in rhythm, replied: soon a voice asked: "It's you, Jules?" "It is I, master!" The man whom Jules named "master," was the stranger, who, for two weary hours, had kept strict watch over the goings and comings of the house.... "All well, Jules?" "All well, master!" "And nothing new?..." "I don't know about that, master: she has written a letter...." "To whom?..." "I couldn't say.... I could not see the address, master...." "You red-headed idiot!" The servant protested. "No, it was not my fault!... She did not write in the drawing-room, but in her own room.... I couldn't get a squint at her paper...." "Did she not say anything?" "Nothing." "Did she look upset?" "A little." "No one suspects anything?" "I hope not, master!... Gods and little fishes, if anyone suspected!" The visitor's voice grew harsh, imperious. "Enough," said he. "We have no time to lose!" "How? No time...." "That's it! We must set to work...." "Work?... Now?... This very night?... Oh, master, surely not!" "Don't I? Do you imagine that I arranged a meeting only for the pleasure of talking to you?... Come on, now!... March!" "What are we to do?" A moment's silence. "I cannot see the house very well, because of the branches: listen—look!... Isn't there a light?... Someone still up?" "No. They've all gone to bed." "Good. And she?" "She, too." "You did what I told you?" "Yes, master." "You were able to pour out the narcotic?" "Yes, master." "And then?" "What do you mean by then?" "Have you carried out all my orders ... the last?" "Yes, it is all right!... I went into her room and blew out the lamp." "Good! Now for it!..." A slight brushing sound, along the low stone wall of the garden, was barely perceptible to a listening ear. The wall was topped by railings, and the gate had sheets of iron fastened to it. In a twinkling, the stranger leaped down beside Jules. "It's child's play to vault that gate," he said. By the uncertain light of the stars, Jules could see the individual who had just joined him. His appearance was fantastic, and the wretched Jules started and trembled in every limb. The stranger, who had thus invaded Madame Bourrat's domain, who a short while before had been wearing a long cloak and immense sombrero, wore them no longer. Probably he had rid himself of them by casting them among the bramble bushes on the waste ground around rue Docteur Blanche.... Now he was clad in a long black knitted garment moulded tightly to his figure, a sinister garment, by means of which the wearer can blend with the darkness so as to be almost indistinguishable. His face was entirely concealed by a long black hood, a movable mask, which prevented his features being seen: through two slits gleamed two eyeballs: they might have burned a way through like glowing coals. "Master!... Master!" murmured Jules. "What are you going to do now?" This spectral figure replied in a low tone: "Fool!... go on in front—or no—better follow me! And not a sound—it's as much as your skin is worth!... Take care—great care!" The two men advanced in silence. But, while Jules seemed to take exaggerated precautions to prevent being heard, his companion seemed naturally shod with silence. He advanced noiselessly, almost invisible in his black garment. The two accomplices were soon at the front-door steps of the house. "Open," commanded the master. Jules slipped a key into the lock: noiselessly the door turned on its hinges. "Listen," whispered the cloaked man. "Half-way up the stairs, you must stop: I do not wish you to go right up...." "But..." "Do as I say! You must keep watch.... If, by chance, you should hear a noise, if I were to be taken by surprise, you must go downstairs, making a great noise and shouting at the top of your voice: 'Stop him!... Stop him!...' Thus, in the first moment of confusion, everyone will rush after you, and that will give me time to choose my way of escape." Jules, whatever his fears, did not dare to question his instructions. "Very good, master," he breathed. "I'll do as you say." "I should think you would," scoffed his master, almost inaudibly. Leaving his accomplice on the stairs, the masked man went forward. He seemed to know the ins and outs of the house, for he turned into the corridor and, without a moment's hesitation, walked towards the door of Elizabeth Dollon's room. He put his ear against it. "She sleeps," he murmured. He had inserted a key in the lock: there was an obstacle to its easy entrance. "Confound it! The girl has left her own key in the lock!" he said softly.... "What the deuce am I to do now? What did Jules do when he got in and put out the lamp?... Why, of course, he took off the screw that fixes the staple—a simple push will suffice." With a push of his shoulder the door yielded. The stranger entered and carefully closed the door. He walked to the window and drew the curtains, muttering: "That fool should have thought of this just now." Taking a small electric torch from his pocket he turned on the light. Calmly, collectedly, he approached a couch at one side of the room.... On it lay Elizabeth Dollon in a deep sleep. She looked white as death. "An excellent narcotic," he muttered, bending over the unconscious girl. "When one thinks that she took it at dinner, then went out, and that then it produced its effect!..." Moving away from Elizabeth, he crossed the room to where the contents of the overturned trunk lay. "Damnable papers!" he growled low. "To think!... It is too late now to continue the search.... Bah! By shutting the mouth of an informant ... that's the way to settle it ... the best way too!... Now for it!..." Without apparent effort, the man in the hooded mask seized Elizabeth Dollon in his muscular arms. "Come, mademoiselle," he said in a jeering tone. "Come to bye-bye! Sleep better than on this sofa! You will sleep a longer sleep, that's certain!" An evil smile punctuated these sinister remarks. He laid the poor girl's body on the floor in the middle of the room; then, approaching a little gas stove, he detached the india-rubber tube and slipped the end of it between his victim's teeth. He turned the gas tap.... "Perfect!" he said, as he straightened himself. "To-morrow morning, early, at eight o'clock, or at nine, the excellent Madame Bourrat will open the meter. The narcotic this child has taken will prevent her from waking, so that, without suffering, without cries, quite gently—pfuit!... sweet Elizabeth will pass from life to death!... But it will not do to linger here ... let us find Jules and give him the necessary instructions!" The stranger went out into the corridor closing the door. The thing had been well managed; the screws keeping the bolt case in position were put back in their holes—the key remained inside—no one would suspect that only a slight push was necessary to get into the room. With a chuckle, the stranger bent down and pushed a tassel under the door. The servant must not discover the trick when she is sweeping the passage: now with this wedge, the door cannot be opened without a violent push. With a last glance up and down the passage, illuminated for a moment by his electric torch, the stranger made sure that there was no one about to see him; then, with silent tread, he began to go downstairs.... Half-way down, his accomplice awaited him. "Well, master?" questioned Jules in a low, trembling voice. In a calm, quiet voice, the man in the hood mask replied: "It is done—is successful.... I have wedged the door to. You will be careful when you are sweeping to-morrow." Jules lowered his head. "Yes ... yes.... Have you?..." The stranger put his hand on the servant's shoulder. "Listen," whispered the stranger, "I do not repeat my orders twenty times over,... have I not already told you that I do not allow myself to be questioned?... try to remember that!... You wish to know whether I have killed her?... Well, I will tell you this: I have not killed her. But I have so managed things that she will kill herself!... A suicide, you understand.... One piece of advice: to-morrow, keep anyone from going to her room as long as you can ... if Madame Bourrat, or anyone else asks for her, you must say that you saw her leave the house—that she has gone out...." "But," protested Jules, "it is impossible, what you tell me to say, master! It just happens that she is expecting visitors to-morrow!... She told me that, on this account, she meant to stay indoors all day!" The man with the hood mask ground his teeth. "You idiot! What does that matter?... You are to say: Mademoiselle Elizabeth has just gone out, but she told me that she was not going far, and that she would return in about twenty minutes.... If anyone should ask for her again, you are to answer that she has not come in yet!..." "But ... master ... when they find out what's happened really?..." "Ho! When it is discovered, it will seem quite natural that a person who means to commit suicide—for she will have committed suicide, you understand—should have taken precautions not to be disturbed ... you grasp this?" "Yes, master ... yes!..." They had returned to the garden: the man in the hooded mask was preparing to get over the gate.... "Farewell! Be faithful! Be intelligent!... You know what you have to gain?... You also know what risks you run?... Eh!... Now go!" "You will return to-morrow, master?" The man with the hooded mask looked his accomplice up and down. "I shall return when it pleases me to do so." Then, with marvellous agility, without making a spring for it, with a quite extraordinary muscular flexibility and power, the stranger leaped on to the little wall, cleared the gate, and disappeared into the night.... Jules, with bent head, much moved, terribly anxious, slowly walked back to the house.... <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.