The Crystal Stopper, Maurice Leblanc [best free e reader txt] 📗

Prasville began to lose patience:

“Come, what is it all about? Explain yourself.”

“Forgive me, my friend, but I wanted above all to mark the great importance which you attach to that paper and, in view of the immediate transaction which we are about to conclude, to specify—what shall I say?—the value of my share in it. That value, which has no limits, must, I repeat, be exchanged for an unlimited value.”

“Agreed,” said Prasville, querulously.

“I presume, therefore, that it is unnecessary for me to trace the whole story of the business or to enumerate, on the one hand, the disasters which the possession of that paper would have allowed you to avert and, on the other hand, the incalculable advantages which you will be able to derive from its possession?”

Prasville had to make an effort to contain himself and to answer in a tone that was civil, or nearly so:

“I admit everything. Is that enough?”

“I beg your pardon, but we cannot explain ourselves too plainly. And there is one point that remains to be cleared up. Are you in a position to treat, personally?”

“How do you mean?”

“I want to know not, of course, if you are empowered to settle this business here and now, but if, in dealing with me, you represent the views of those who know the business and who are qualified to settle it.”

“Yes,” declared Prasville, forcibly.

“So that I can have your answer within an hour after I have told you my conditions?”

“Yes.”

“Will the answer be that of the government?”

“Yes.”

Clarisse bent forward and, sinking her voice:

“Will the answer be that of the Elysee?”

Prasville appeared surprised. He reflected for a moment and then said:

“Yes.”

“It only remains for me to ask you to give me your word of honour that, however incomprehensible my conditions may appear to you, you will not insist on my revealing the reason. They are what they are. Your answer must be yes or no.”

“I give you my word of honour,” said Prasville, formally.

Clarisse underwent a momentary agitation that made her turn paler still. Then, mastering herself, with her eyes fixed on Prasville’s eyes, she said:

“You shall have the list of the Twenty-seven in exchange for the pardon of Gilbert and Vaucheray.”

“Eh? What?”

Prasville leapt from his chair, looking absolutely dumbfounded:

“The pardon of Gilbert and Vaucheray? Of Arsene Lupin’s accomplices?”

“Yes,” she said.

“The murderers of the Villa Marie-Therese? The two who are due to die to-morrow?”

“Yes, those two,” she said, in a loud voice. “I ask? I demand their pardon.”

“But this is madness! Why? Why should you?”

“I must remind you, Prasville, that you gave me your word...”

“Yes... yes... I know... But the thing is so unexpected...”

“Why?”

“Why? For all sorts of reasons!”

“What reasons?”

“Well... well, but... think! Gilbert and Vaucheray have been sentenced to death!”

“Send them to penal servitude: that’s all you have to do.”

“Impossible! The case has created an enormous sensation. They are Arsene Lupin’s accomplices. The whole world knows about the verdict.”

“Well?”

“Well, we cannot, no, we cannot go against the decrees of justice.”

“You are not asked to do that. You are asked for a commutation of punishment as an act of mercy. Mercy is a legal thing.”

“The pardoning-commission has given its finding...”

“True, but there remains the president of the Republic.”

“He has refused.”

“He can reconsider his refusal.”

“Impossible!”

“Why?”

“There’s no excuse for it.”

“He needs no excuse. The right of mercy is absolute. It is exercised without control, without reason, without excuse or explanation. It is a royal prerogative; the president of the Republic can wield it according to his good pleasure, or rather according to his conscience, in the best interests of the State.”

“But it is too late! Everything is ready. The execution is to take place in a few hours.”

“One hour is long enough to obtain your answer; you have just told us so.”

“But this is confounded madness! There are insuperable obstacles to your conditions. I tell you again, it’s impossible, physically impossible.”

“Then the answer is no?”

“No! No! A thousand times no!”

“In that case, there is nothing left for us to do but to go.”

She moved toward the door. M. Nicole followed her. Prasville bounded across the room and barred their way:

“Where are you going?”

“Well, my friend, it seems to me that our conversation is at an end. As you appear to think, as, in fact, you are certain that the president of the Republic will not consider the famous list of the Twenty-seven to be worth...”

“Stay where you are,” said Prasville.

He turned the key in the door and began to pace the room, with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the floor.

And Lupin, who had not breathed a word during the whole of this scene and who had prudently contented himself with playing a colourless part, said to himself:

“What a fuss! What a lot of affectation to arrive at the inevitable result! As though Prasville, who is not a genius, but not an absolute blockhead either, would be likely to lose the chance of revenging himself on his mortal enemy! There, what did I say? The idea of hurling Daubrecq into the bottomless pit appeals to him. Come, we’ve won the rubber.”

Prasville was opening a small inner door which led to the office of his