The declaration was followed by a silence of some length. The Secretary of the American Embassy and the Peruvian attaché had followed the conversation with eager interest. Major d'Astrignac nodded his head with an air of approval. To his mind, Perenna could not be mistaken.
The Prefect of Police confessed:
"Certainly, certainly … we have a number of circumstances here … that are fairly ambiguous…. Those brown patches; that doctor…. It's a case that wants looking into." And, questioning Don Luis Perenna as though in spite of himself, he asked, "No doubt, in your opinion, there is a possible connection between the murder … and Mr. Mornington's will?"
"That, Monsieur le Préfet, I cannot tell. If there is, we should have to suppose that the contents of the will were known. Do you think they can have leaked out, Maître Lepertuis?"
"I don't think so, for Mr. Mornington seemed to behave with great caution."
"And there's no question, is there, of any indiscretion committed in your office?"
"By whom? No one handled the will except myself; and I alone have the key of the safe in which I put away documents of that importance every evening."
"The safe has not been broken into? There has been no burglary at your office?"
"No."
"You saw Cosmo Mornington in the morning?"
"Yes, on a Friday morning."
"What did you do with the will until the evening, until you locked it away up your safe?"
"I probably put it in the drawer of my desk."
"And the drawer was not forced?"
Maître Lepertuis seemed taken aback and made no reply.
"Well?" asked Perenna.
"Well, yes, I remember … there was something that day … that same Friday."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. When I came in from lunch I noticed that the drawer was not locked, although I had locked it beyond the least doubt. At the time I attached comparatively little importance to the incident. To-day, I understand, I understand—"
Thus, little by little, were all the suppositions conceived by Don Luis verified: suppositions resting, it is true, upon just one or two clues, but yet containing an amount of intuition, of divination3, that was really surprising in a man who had been present at none of the events between which he traced the connection so skilfully4.
"We will lose no time, Monsieur," said the Prefect of Police, "in checking your statements, which you will confess to be a little venturesome, by the more positive evidence of one of my detectives who has the case in charge … and who ought to be here by now."
"Upon the heirs principally, because two days ago he telephoned to me that he had collected all the particulars, and also upon the very points which—But wait: I remember that he spoke7 to my secretary of a murder committed a month ago to-day…. Now it's a month to-day since Mr. Cosmo Mornington—"
M. Desmalions pressed hard on a bell. His private secretary at once appeared.
"He's not back yet."
"Have him fetched! Have him brought here! He must be found at all costs and without delay."
He turned to Don Luis Perenna.
"Inspector Vérot was here an hour ago, feeling rather unwell, very much excited, it seems, and declaring that he was being watched and followed. He said he wanted to make a most important statement to me about the Mornington case and to warn the police of two murders which are to be committed to-night … and which would be a consequence of the murder of Cosmo Mornington."
"And he was unwell, you say?"
"Yes, ill at ease and even very queer and imagining things. By way of being prudent9, he left a detailed10 report on the case for me. Well, the report is simply a blank sheet of letter-paper.
"Here is the paper and the envelope in which I found it, and here is a cardboard box which he also left behind him. It contains a cake of chocolate with the marks of teeth on it."
"May I look at the two things you have mentioned, Monsieur le Préfet?"
"Yes, but they won't tell you anything."
"Perhaps so—"
Don Luis examined at length the cardboard box and the yellow envelope, on which were printed the words, "Café du Pont-Neuf." The others awaited his words as though they were bound to shed an unexpected light. He merely said:
"The handwriting is not the same on the envelope and the box. The writing on the envelope is less plain, a little shaky, obviously imitated."
"Which proves—?"
"Which proves, Monsieur le Préfet, that this yellow envelope does not come from your detective. I presume that, after writing his report at a table in the Café du Pont-Neuf and closing it, he had a moment of inattention during which somebody substituted for his envelope another with the same address, but containing a blank sheet of paper."
"That's a supposition!" said the Prefect.
"Perhaps; but what is certain, Monsieur le Préfet, is that your inspector's presentiments12 are well-grounded, that he is being closely watched, that the discoveries about the Mornington inheritance which he has succeeded in making are interfering13 with criminal designs, and that he is in terrible danger."
"Come, come!"
"He must be rescued, Monsieur le Préfet. Ever since the commencement of this meeting I have felt persuaded that we are up against an attempt which has already begun. I hope that it is not too late and that your inspector has not been the first victim."
"My dear sir," exclaimed the Prefect of Police, "you declare all this with a conviction which rouses my admiration14, but which is not enough to establish the fact that your fears are justified15. Inspector Vérot's return will be the best proof."
"Inspector Vérot will not return."
"But why not?"
"Because he has returned already. The messenger saw him return."
"The messenger was dreaming. If you have no proof but that man's evidence—"
"I have another proof, Monsieur le Préfet, which Inspector Vérot himself has left of his presence here: these few, almost illegible16 letters which he scribbled17 on this memorandum18 pad, which your secretary did not see him write and which have just caught my eye. Look at them. Are they not a proof, a definite proof that he came back?"
The Prefect did not conceal19 his perturbation. The others all seemed impressed. The secretary's return but increased their apprehensions21: nobody had seen Inspector Vérot.
"Monsieur le Préfet," said Don Luis, "I earnestly beg you to have the office messenger in."
And, as soon as the messenger was there, he asked him, without even waiting for M. Desmalions to speak:
"Are you sure that Inspector Vérot entered this room a second time?"
"Absolutely sure."
"And that he did not go out again?"
"Absolutely sure."
"And your attention was not distracted for a moment?"
"Not for a moment."
"There, Monsieur, you see!" cried the Prefect. "If Inspector Vérot were here, we should know it."
"He is here, Monsieur le Préfet."
"What!"
"Excuse my obstinacy22, Monsieur le Préfet, but I say that, when some one enters a room and does not go out again, he is still in that room."
"Hiding?" said M. Desmalions, who was growing more and more irritated.
"No, but fainting, ill—dead, perhaps."
"But where, hang it all?"
"Behind that screen."
"There's nothing behind that screen, nothing but a door."
"And that door—?"
"Leads to a dressing-room."
"Well, Monsieur le Préfet, Inspector Vérot, tottering23, losing his head, imagining himself to be going from your office to your secretary's room, fell into your dressing-room."
M. Desmalions ran to the door, but, at the moment of opening it, shrank back. Was it apprehension20, the wish to withdraw himself from the influence of that astonishing man, who gave his orders with such authority and who seemed to command events themselves?
"I cannot believe—" said M. Desmalions.
"Monsieur le Préfet, I would remind you that Inspector Vérot's revelations may save the lives of two persons who are doomed26 to die to-night. Every minute lost is irreparable."
M. Desmalions shrugged27 his shoulders. But that man mastered him with the power of his conviction; and the Prefect opened the door.
He did not make a movement, did not utter a cry. He simply muttered:
"Oh, is it possible!—"
By the pale gleam of light that entered through a ground-glass window they saw the body of a man lying on the floor.
He and the secretary raised the body and placed it in an armchair in the
Prefect's office.
Inspector Vérot was still alive, but so little alive that they could scarcely hear the beating of his heart. A drop of saliva29 trickled30 from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were devoid31 of all expression. However, certain muscles of the face kept moving, perhaps with the effort of a will that seemed to linger almost beyond life.
Don Luis muttered:
"Look, Monsieur le Préfet—the brown patches!"
"Send for the doctor!" ordered M. Desmalions. "Tell them to bring a doctor, the first that comes—and a priest. We can't let the poor man—"
Don Luis raised his arm to demand silence.
"There is nothing more to be done," he said. "We shall do better to make the most of these last moments. Have I your permission, Monsieur le Préfet?"
He bent33 over the dying man, laid the swaying head against the back of the chair, and, in a very gentle voice, whispered:
"Vérot, it's Monsieur le Préfet speaking to you. We should like a few particulars about what is to take place to-night. Do you hear me, Vérot? If you hear me, close your eyelids34."
The eyelids were lowered. But was it not merely chance? Don Luis went on:
"You have found the heirs of the Roussel sisters, that much we know; and it is two of those heirs who are threatened with death. The double murder is to be committed to-night. But what we do not know is the name of those heirs, who are doubtless not called Roussel. You must tell us the name.
"Listen to me: you wrote on a memorandum pad three letters which seem to form the syllable35 Fau…. Am I right? Is this the first syllable of a name? Which is the next letter after those three? Close your eyes when I mention the right letter. Is it 'b?' Is it 'c?'"
But there was now not a flicker36 in the inspector's pallid37 face. The head dropped heavily on the chest. Vérot gave two or three sighs, his frame shook with one great shiver, and he moved no more.
He was dead.
The tragic38 scene had been enacted39 so swiftly that the men who were its shuddering40 spectators remained for a moment confounded. The solicitor made the sign of the cross and went down on his knees. The Prefect murmured:
"Poor Vérot!… He was a good man, who thought only of the service, of his duty. Instead of going and getting himself seen to—and who knows? Perhaps he might have been saved—he came back here in the hope of communicating his secret. Poor Vérot!—"
"Was he married? Are there any children?" asked Don Luis.
"He leaves a wife and three children," replied the Prefect.
"I will look after them," said Don Luis simply.
Then, when they brought a doctor and when M. Desmalions gave orders for the corpse41 to be carried to another room, Don Luis took the doctor aside and said:
"There is no doubt that Inspector Vérot was poisoned. Look at his wrist: you will see the mark of a puncture42 with a ring of inflammation round it."
"Yes, with a pin or the point of a pen; and not as violently as they may have wished, because death did not ensue until some hours later."
The messengers removed the corpse; and soon there was no one left in the office except the five people whom the Prefect had originally sent for. The American Secretary of Embassy and the Peruvian attaché, considering their continued presence unnecessary, went away, after warmly complimenting Don Luis Perenna on his powers of penetration44.
Next came the turn of Major d'Astrignac, who shook his former subordinate by the hand with obvious affection. And Maître Lepertais and Perenna, having fixed45 an appointment for the payment of the legacy46, were themselves on the point of leaving, when M. Desmalions entered briskly.
"Ah, so you're still here, Don Luis Perenna! I'm glad of that. I have an idea: those three letters which you say you made out on the writing-table, are you sure they form the syllable Fau?"
"I think so, Monsieur le Préfet. See for yourself: are not these an 'F,' an 'A' and a 'U?' And observe that the 'F' is a capital, which made me suspect that the letters are the first syllable of a proper name."
"Just so, just so," said M. Desmalions. "Well, curiously47 enough, that syllable happens to be—But wait, we'll verify our facts—"
M. Desmalions searched hurriedly among the letters which his secretary had handed him on his arrival and which lay on a corner of the table.
"Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed, glancing at the signature of one of the letters. "Here we are! It's as I thought: 'Fauville.' … The first syllable is the same…. Look, 'Fauville,' just like that, without Christian48 name or initials. The letter must have been written in a feverish49 moment: there is no date nor address…. The writing is shaky—"
And M. Desmalions read out:
"MONSIEUR LE PRÉFET:
"A great danger is hanging over my head and over the head of my son. Death is approaching apace. I shall have to-night, or to-morrow morning at the latest, the proofs of the abominable50 plot that threatens us. I ask leave to bring them to you in the course of the morning. I am in need of protection and I call for your assistance.
"Permit me to be, etc. FAUVILLE."
"No other designation?" asked Perenna. "No letter-heading?"
"None. But there is no mistake. Inspector Vérot's declarations agree too evidently with this despairing appeal. It is clearly M. Fauville and his son who are to be murdered to-night. And the terrible thing is that, as this name of Fauville is a very common one, it is impossible for our inquiries51 to succeed in time."
"What, Monsieur le Préfet? Surely, by straining every nerve—"
"Certainly, we will strain every nerve; and I shall set all my men to work. But observe that we have not the slightest clue."
"Oh, it would be awful!" cried Don Luis. "Those two creatures doomed to death; and we unable to save them! Monsieur le Préfet, I ask you to authorize52 me—"
He had not finished speaking when the Prefect's private secretary entered with a visiting-card in his hand.
"Monsieur le Préfet, this caller was so persistent…. I hesitated—"
"Look, Monsieur," he said to Perenna.
And he handed him the card.
Hippolyte Fauville,
Civil Engineer.
14 bis Boulevard Suchet.
"Come," said M. Desmalions, "chance is favouring us. If this M. Fauville is one of the Roussel heirs, our task becomes very much easier."
"In any case, Monsieur le Préfet," the solicitor interposed, "I must remind you that one of the clauses of the will stipulates55 that it shall not be read until forty-eight hours have elapsed. M. Fauville, therefore, must not be informed—"
"Inspector … Inspector Vérot?" he spluttered. "He's dead, isn't he? I was told—"
"Yes, Monsieur, he is dead."
"Oh, the scoundrels! the scoundrels!"
He was a pale, hollow-cheeked, sickly looking man of about fifty. His head was bald, above a forehead lined with deep wrinkles. A nervous twitching59 affected60 his chin and the lobes61 of his ears. Tears stood in his eyes.
The Prefect asked:
"Whom do you mean, Monsieur? Inspector Vérot's murderers? Are you able to name them, to assist our inquiry62?"
Hippolyte Fauville shook his head.
"No, no, it would be useless, for the moment…. My proofs would not be sufficient…. No, really not."
He had already risen from his chair and stood apologizing:
"Monsieur le Préfet, I have disturbed you unnecessarily, but I wanted to know…. I was hoping that Inspector Vérot might have escaped…. His evidence, joined to mine, would have been invaluable63. But perhaps he was able to tell you?"
"No, he spoke of this evening—of to-night—"
Hippolyte Fauville started.
"This evening! Then the time has come!… But no, it's impossible, they can't do anything to me yet…. They are not ready—"
"Inspector Vérot declared, however, that the double murder would be committed to-night."
"No, Monsieur le Préfet, he was wrong there…. I know all about it…. To-morrow evening at the earliest … and we will catch them in a trap…. Oh, the scoundrels!"
Don Luis went up to him and asked:
"Your mother's name was Ermeline Roussel, was it not?"
"Yes, Ermeline Roussel. She is dead now."
"And she was from Saint-Etienne?"
"Yes. But why these questions?"
"Monsieur le Préfet will tell you to-morrow. One word more." He opened the cardboard box left by Inspector Vérot. "Does this cake of chocolate mean anything to you? These marks?"
He dropped into his chair again, but only for a moment; then, drawing himself up, he hurried toward the door with a jerky step.
"I'm going, Monsieur le Préfet, I'm going. To-morrow morning I'll show you…. I shall have all the proofs…. And the police will protect me…. I am ill, I know, but I want to live! I have the right to live … and my son, too…. And we will live…. Oh, the scoundrels!—"
And he ran, stumbling out, like a drunken man.
M. Desmalions rose hastily.
"I shall have inquiries made about that man's circumstances…. I shall have his house watched. I've telephoned to the detective office already. I'm expecting some one in whom I have every confidence."
Don Luis said:
"Monsieur le Préfet, I beg you, with an earnestness which you will understand, to authorize me to pursue the investigation65. Cosmo Mornington's will makes it my duty and, allow me to say, gives me the right to do so. M. Fauville's enemies have given proofs of extraordinary cleverness and daring. I want to have the honour of being at the post of danger to-night, at M. Fauville's house, near his person."
The Prefect hesitated. He was bound to reflect how greatly to Don Luis Perenna's interest it was that none of the Mornington heirs should be discovered, or at least be able to come between him and the millions of the inheritance. Was it safe to attribute to a noble sentiment of gratitude66, to a lofty conception of friendship and duty, that strange longing67 to protect Hippolyte Fauville against the death that threatened him?
For some seconds M. Desmalions watched that resolute68 face, those intelligent eyes, at once innocent and satirical, grave and smiling, eyes through which you could certainly not penetrate69 their owner's baffling individuality, but which nevertheless looked at you with an expression of absolute frankness and sincerity70. Then he called his secretary:
"Has any one come from the detective office?"
"Please have him shown in."
And, turning to Perenna:
"Sergeant Mazeroux is one of our smartest detectives. I used to employ him together with that poor Vérot when I wanted any one more than ordinarily active and sharp. He will be of great use to you."
* * * * *
Sergeant Mazeroux entered. He was a short, lean, wiry man, whose drooping72 moustache, heavy eyelids, watery73 eyes and long, lank11 hair gave him a most doleful appearance.
"Mazeroux," said the Prefect, "you will have heard, by this time, of your comrade Vérot's death and of the horrible circumstances attending it. We must now avenge74 him and prevent further crimes. This gentleman, who knows the case from end to end, will explain all that is necessary. You will work with him and report to me to-morrow morning."
This meant giving a free hand to Don Luis Perenna and relying on his power of initiative and his perspicacity75. Don Luis bowed:
"I thank you, Monsieur le Préfet. I hope that you will have no reason to regret the trust which you are good enough to place in me."
And, taking leave of M. Desmalions and Maître Lepertuis, he went out with
Sergeant Mazeroux.
As soon as they were outside, he told Mazeroux what he knew. The detective seemed much impressed by his companion's professional gifts and quite ready to be guided by his views.
They decided76 first to go to the Café du Pont-Neuf. Here they learned that Inspector Vérot, who was a regular customer of the place, had written a long letter there that morning. And the waiter remembered that a man at the next table, who had entered the café at almost the same time as the inspector, had also asked for writing-paper and called twice for yellow envelopes.
"That's it," said Mazeroux to Don Luis. "As you suspected, one letter has been substituted for the other."
The description given by the waiter was pretty explicit77: a tall man, with a slight stoop, wearing a reddish-brown beard cut into a point, a tortoise-shell eyeglass with a black silk ribbon, and an ebony walking-stick with a handle shaped like a swan's head.
"That's something for the police to go upon," said Mazeroux.
They were leaving the café when Don Luis stopped his companion.
"One moment."
"What's the matter?"
"We've been followed."
"Followed? What next? And by whom, pray?"
"No one that matters. I know who it is and I may as well settle his business and have done with it. Wait for me. I shall be back; and I'll show you some fun. You shall see one of the 'nuts,' I promise you."
He returned in a minute with a tall, thin man with his face set in whiskers. He introduced him:
"M. Mazeroux, a friend of mine, Señor Caceres, an attaché at the Peruvian Legation. Señor Caceres took part in the interview at the Prefect's just now. It was he who, on the Peruvian Minister's instructions, collected the documents bearing upon my identity." And he added gayly: "So you were looking for me, dear Señor Caceres. Indeed, I expected, when we left the police office—"
Perenna replied:
"Oh, pray don't mind M. Mazeroux! You can speak before him; he is the soul of discretion2. Besides, he knows all about the business."
The attaché was silent. Perenna made him sit down in front of him.
"Speak without beating about the bush, dear Señor Caceres. It's a subject that calls for plain dealing79; and I don't mind a blunt word or two. It saves such a lot of time! Come on. You want money, I suppose? Or, rather, more money. How much?"
The Peruvian had a final hesitation80, gave a glance at Don Luis's companion, and then, suddenly making up his mind, said in a dull voice:
"Fifty thousand francs!"
"Oh, by Jove, by Jove!" cried Don Luis. "You're greedy, you know! What do you say, M. Mazeroux? Fifty thousand francs is a lot of money. Especially as—Look here, my dear Caceres, let's go over the ground again.
"Three years ago I had the honour of making your acquaintance in Algeria, when you were touring the country. At the same time, I understood the sort of man you were; and I asked you if you could manage, in three years, with my name of Perenna, to fix me up a Spanish-Peruvian identity, furnished with unquestionable papers and respectable ancestors. You said, 'Yes,' We settled the price: twenty thousand francs. Last week, when the Prefect of Police asked me for my papers, I came to see you and learned that you had just been instructed to make inquiries into my antecedents.
"Everything was ready, as it happened. With the papers of a deceased Peruvian nobleman, of the name of Pereira, properly revised, you had faked me up a first-rate civic81 status. We arranged what you were to say before the Prefect of Police; and I paid up the twenty thousand. We were quits. What more do you want?"
The Pervian attaché did not betray the least embarrassment82. He put his two elbows on the table and said, very calmly:
"Monsieur, when treating with you, three years ago, I thought I was dealing with a gentleman who, hiding himself under the uniform of the Foreign Legion, wished to recover the means to live respectably afterward83. To-day, I have to do with the universal legatee of Cosmo Mornington, with a man who, to-morrow, under a false name, will receive the sum of one million francs and, in a few months, perhaps, the sum of a hundred millions. That's quite a different thing."
The argument seemed to strike Don Luis. Nevertheless, he objected:
"And, if I refuse—?"
"If you refuse, I shall inform the solicitor and the Prefect of Police that I made an error in my inquiry and that there is some mistake about Don Luis Perenna. In consequence of which you will receive nothing at all and very likely find yourself in jail."
"Me?"
"Of course: on a charge of forgery85 and tampering86 with registers. For you don't imagine that I should take it lying down."
The attaché did not reply. His nose, which was a very big one, seemed to lengthen87 out still farther between his two long whiskers.
Don Luis began to laugh.
"Come, Señor Caceres, don't pull such a face! No one's going to hurt you. Only don't think that you can corner me. Better men than you have tried and have broken their backs in the process. And, upon my word, you don't cut much of a figure when you're doing your best to diddle your fellowmen.
"You look a bit of a mug, in fact, Caceres: a bit of a mug is what you look. So it's understood, what? We lay down our arms. No more base designs against our excellent friend Perenna. Capital, Señor Caceres, capital. And now I'll be magnanimous and prove to you that the decent man of us two is—the one whom any one would have thought!"
He produced a check-book on the Crédit Lyonnais.
"Here, my dear chap. Here's twenty thousand francs as a present from Cosmo Mornington's legatee. Put it in your pocket and look pleasant. Say thank you to the kind gentleman, and make yourself scarce without turning your head any more than if you were one of old man Lot's daughters. Off you go: hoosh!"
This was said in such a manner that the attaché obeyed Don Luis Perenna's injunctions to the letter. He smiled as he pocketed the check, said thank you twice over, and made off without turning his head.
"The low hound!" muttered Don Luis. "What do you say to that, Sergeant?"
Sergeant Mazeroux was looking at him in stupefaction, with his eyes starting from his head.
"Well, but, Monsieur—"
"What, Sergeant?"
"Well, but, Monsieur, who are you?"
"Who am I?"
"Yes."
"Didn't they tell you? A Peruvian nobleman, or a Spanish nobleman, I don't know which. In short, Don Luis Perenna."
"Bunkum! I've just heard—"
"Don Luis Perenna, late of the Foreign Legion."
"Enough of that, Monsieur—"
"Medaled and decorated with a stripe on every seam."
"Once more, Monsieur, enough of that; and come along with me to the Prefect."
"But, let me finish, hang it! I was saying, late private in the Foreign Legion…. Late hero…. Late prisoner of the Sureté…. Late Russian prince…. Late chief of the detective service…. Late—"
"It's a true story, Sergeant, and quite genuine. You ask me who I am; and I'm telling you categorically. Must I go farther back? I have still more titles to offer you: marquis, baron89, duke, archduke, grand-duke, petty-duke, superduke—the whole 'Almanach de Gotha,' by Jingo! If any one told me that I had been a king, by all that's holy, I shouldn't dare swear to the contrary!"
Sergeant Mazeroux put out his own hands, accustomed to rough work, seized the seemingly frail90 wrists of the man addressing him and said:
"No nonsense, now. I don't know whom I've got hold of, but I shan't let you go. You can say what you have to say at the Prefect's."
"Don't speak so loud, Alexandre."
The two frail wrists were released with unparalleled ease; the sergeant's powerful hands were caught and rendered useless; and Don Luis grinned:
"Don't you know me, you idiot?"
Sergeant Mazeroux did not utter a word. His eyes started still farther from his head. He tried to understand and remained absolutely dumfounded.
The sound of that voice, that way of jesting, that schoolboy playfulness allied91 with that audacity92, the quizzing expression of those eyes, and lastly that Christian name of Alexandre, which was not his name at all and which only one person used to give him, years ago. Was it possible?
"The chief!" he stammered. "The chief!"
"Why not?"
"No, no, because—"
"Because what?"
"Because you're dead."
"Well, what about it? D'you think it interferes93 with my living, being dead?"
"Who put you into the police office?"
"The Chief Detective, M. Lenormand."
"And who was M. Lenormand?"
"The chief."
"You mean Arsène Lupin, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, Alexandre, don't you know that it was much more difficult for Arsène Lupin to be Chief Detective—and a masterly Chief Detective he was—than to be Don Luis Perenna, to be decorated in the Foreign Legion, to be a hero, and even to be alive after he was dead?"
Sergeant Mazeroux examined his companion in silence. Then his lacklustre eyes brightened, his drab features turned scarlet95 and, suddenly striking the table with his fist, he growled96, in an angry voice:
"All right, very well! But I warn you that you mustn't reckon on me. No, not that! I'm in the detective service; and in the detective service I remain. Nothing doing. I've tasted honesty and I mean to eat no other bread. No, no, no, no! No more humbug97!"
Perenna shrugged his shoulders:
"Alexandre, you're an ass1. Upon my word, the bread of honesty hasn't enlarged your intelligence. Who talked of starting again?"
"But—"
"But what?"
"My maneuvers! Do you think I have anything to say to this business?"
"Look here, Chief—"
"Why, I'm out of it altogether, my lad! Two hours ago I knew no more about it than you do. It's Providence99 that chucked this legacy at me, without so much as shouting, 'Heads!' And it's in obedience100 to the decrees of—"
"Then—?"
"It's my mission in life to avenge Cosmo Mornington, to find his natural heirs, to protect them and to divide among them the hundred millions that belong to them. That's all. Don't you call that the mission of an honest man?"
"Yes, but—"
"Yes, but, if I don't fulfil it as an honest man: is that what you mean?"
"Chief—"
"Well, my lad, if you notice the least thing in my conduct that dissatisfies you, if you discover a speck101 of black on Don Luis Perenna's conscience, examined under the magnifying glass, don't hesitate: collar me with both hands. I authorize you to do it. I order you to do it. Is that enough for you?"
"It's not enough for it to be enough for me, Chief."
"What are you talking about?"
"There are the others."
"Explain yourself."
"Suppose you're nabbed?"
"How?"
"You can be betrayed."
"By whom?"
"Your old mates."
"Gone away. I've sent them out of France."
"Where to?"
"That's my secret. I left you at the police office, in case I should require your services; and you see that I was right."
"But suppose the police discover your real identity?"
"Well?"
"They'll arrest you."
"Impossible!"
"Why?"
"They can't arrest me."
"For what reason?"
"You've said it yourself, fat-head: a first-class, tremendous, indisputable reason."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm dead!"
Mazeroux seemed staggered. The argument struck him fully5. He at once perceived it, with all its common sense and all its absurdity102. And suddenly he burst into a roar of laughter which bent him in two and convulsed his doleful features in the oddest fashion:
"Oh, Chief, just the same as always!… Lord, how funny!… Will I come along? I should think I would! As often as you like! You're dead and buried and put out of sight!… Oh, what a joke, what a joke!"
* * * * *
Hippolyte Fauville, civil engineer, lived on the Boulevard Suchet, near the fortifications, in a fair-sized private house having on its left a small garden in which he had built a large room that served as his study. The garden was thus reduced to a few trees and to a strip of grass along the railings, which were covered with ivy103 and contained a gate that opened on the Boulevard Suchet.
Don Luis Perenna went with Mazeroux to the commissary's office at Passy, where Mazeroux, on Perenna's instructions, gave his name and asked to have M. Fauville's house watched during the night by two policemen who were to arrest any suspicious person trying to obtain admission. The commissary agreed to the request.
Don Luis and Mazeroux next dined in the neighbourhood. At nine o'clock they reached the front door of the house.
"Alexandre," said Perenna.
"Yes, Chief?"
"You're not afraid?"
"No, Chief. Why should I be?"
"Why? Because, in defending M. Fauville and his son, we are attacking people who have a great interest in doing away with them and because those people seem pretty wide-awake. Your life, my life: a breath, a trifle. You're not afraid?"
"Chief," replied Mazeroux, "I can't say if I shall ever know what it means to be afraid. But there's one case in which I certainly shall never know."
"What case is that, old chap?"
"As long as I'm by your side, Chief."
And firmly he rang the bell.
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1
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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divination
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| n.占卜，预测 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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5
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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7
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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8
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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12
presentiments
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| n.（对不祥事物的）预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
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13
interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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14
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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15
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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16
illegible
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| adj.难以辨认的，字迹模糊的 | |
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17
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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18
memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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19
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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20
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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21
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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22
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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23
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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24
imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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25
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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26
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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27
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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28
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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29
saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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30
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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31
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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32
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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33
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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34
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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35
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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36
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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37
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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38
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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41
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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42
puncture
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| n.刺孔，穿孔；v.刺穿，刺破 | |
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43
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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44
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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45
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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46
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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47
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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48
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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49
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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50
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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51
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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52
authorize
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| v.授权，委任；批准，认可 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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54
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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55
stipulates
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| n.（尤指在协议或建议中）规定，约定，讲明（条件等）( stipulate的名词复数 )；规定，明确要求v.（尤指在协议或建议中）规定，约定，讲明（条件等）( stipulate的第三人称单数 )；规定，明确要求 | |
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56
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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57
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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61
lobes
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| n.耳垂( lobe的名词复数 )；（器官的）叶；肺叶；脑叶 | |
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62
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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63
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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64
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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65
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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66
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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67
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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69
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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70
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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71
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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72
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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73
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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74
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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75
perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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76
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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79
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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80
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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81
civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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82
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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84
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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85
forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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86
tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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87
lengthen
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| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
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88
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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89
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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90
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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91
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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92
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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93
interferes
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| vi. 妨碍，冲突，干涉 | |
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94
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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95
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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96
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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97
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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98
maneuvers
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| n.策略，谋略，花招( maneuver的名词复数 ) | |
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99
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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100
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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101
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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102
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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103
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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