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

“To Daubrecq?”

“Unless you prefer to burn it.”

“What do you say?”

“I say that, if I were in your place, I would burn it.”

“Why do you say that? It’s ridiculous!”

“On the contrary, it is very sensible.”

“But why? Why?”

“Why? I will tell you. The list of the Twenty-seven, as we know for absolutely certain, was written on a sheet of letter-paper belonging to the chairman of the Canal Company, of which there are a few samples in this cash-box. Now all these samples have as a water-mark a little cross of Lorraine which is almost invisible, but which can just be seen in the thickness of the paper when you hold it up to the light. The sheet which you have brought me does not contain that little cross of Lorraine.” [*]

* The Cross of Lorraine is a cross with two horizontal lines or bars across the upper half of the perpendicular beam. —Translator’s Note.

Lupin felt a nervous trembling shake him from head to foot and he dared not turn his eyes on Clarisse, realizing what a terrible blow this was to her. He heard her stammer:

“Then are we to suppose... that Daubrecq was taken in?”

“Not a bit of it!” exclaimed Prasville. “It is you who have been taken in, my poor friend. Daubrecq has the real list, the list which he stole from the dying man’s safe.”

“But this one...”

“This one is a forgery.”

“A forgery?”

“An undoubted forgery. It was an admirable piece of cunning on Daubrecq’s part. Dazzled by the crystal stopper which he flashed before your eyes, you did nothing but look for that stopper in which he had stowed away no matter what, the first bit of paper that came to hand, while he quietly kept...”

Prasville interrupted himself. Clarisse was walking up to him with short, stiff steps, like an automaton. She said:

“Then...”

“Then what, dear friend?”

“You refuse?”

“Certainly, I am obliged to; I have no choice.”

“You refuse to take that step?”

“Look here, how can I do what you ask? It’s not possible, on the strength of a valueless document...”

“You won’t do it?... You won’t do it?... And, to-morrow morning... in a few hours... Gilbert...”

She was frightfully pale, her face sunk, like the face of one dying. Her eyes opened wider and wider and her teeth chattered...

Lupin, fearing the useless and dangerous words which she was about to utter, seized her by the shoulders and tried to drag her away. But she thrust him back with indomitable strength, took two or three more steps, staggered, as though on the point of falling, and, suddenly, in a burst of energy and despair, laid hold of Prasville and screamed:

“You shall go to the Elysee!... You shall go at once!... You must!... You must save Gilbert!”

“Please, please, my dear friend, calm yourself...”

She gave a strident laugh:

“Calm myself!... When, to-morrow morning, Gilbert... Ah, no, no, I am terrified... it’s appalling.... Oh, run, you wretch, run! Obtain his pardon!... Don’t you understand? Gilbert... Gilbert is my son! My son! My son!”

Prasville gave a cry. The blade of a knife flashed in Clarisse’s hand and she raised her arm to strike herself. But the movement was not completed. M. Nicole caught her arm in its descent and, taking the knife from Clarisse, reducing her to helplessness, he said, in a voice that rang through the room like steel:

“What you are doing is madness!... When I gave you my oath that I would save him! You must... live for him... Gilbert shall not die.... How can he die, when... I gave you my oath?...”

“Gilbert... my son...” moaned Clarisse.

He clasped her fiercely, drew her against himself and put his hand over her mouth:

“Enough! Be quiet!... I entreat you to be quiet.... Gilbert shall not die...”

With irresistible authority, he dragged her away like a subdued child that suddenly becomes obedient; but, at the moment of opening the door, he turned to Prasville:

“Wait for me here, monsieur,” he commanded, in an imperative tone. “If you care about that list of the Twenty-seven, the real list, wait for me. I shall be back in an hour, in two hours, at most; and then we will talk business.”

And abruptly, to Clarisse:

“And you, madame, a little courage yet. I command you to show courage, in Gilbert’s name.”

He went away, through the passages, down the stairs, with a jerky step, holding Clarisse under the arm, as he might have held a lay-figure, supporting her, carrying her almost. A court-yard, another court-yard, then the street.

Meanwhile, Prasville, surprised at first, bewildered by the course of events, was gradually recovering his composure and thinking. He thought of that M. Nicole, a mere supernumerary at first, who played beside Clarisse the part of one of those advisers to whom we cling in the serious crises of our lives and who suddenly, shaking off his torpor, appeared in the full light of day, resolute, masterful, mettlesome, brimming over with daring, ready to overthrow all the obstacles that fate placed on his path.

Who was there that was capable of acting thus?

Prasville started. The question had no sooner occurred to his mind than the answer flashed on him, with absolute certainty. All the proofs rose up, each more exact, each more convincing than the last.

Hurriedly he rang. Hurriedly he sent for the chief detective-inspector on duty. And, feverishly:

“Were you in the waiting-room, chief-inspector?”

“Yes, monsieur le secretaire-general.”

“Did you see a gentleman and a lady go out?”

“Yes.”

“Would you know the man again?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t lose a moment, chief-inspector. Take six inspectors with you. Go to the Place de Clichy. Make inquiries about a man called Nicole and watch the house. The Nicole man is on his way back there.”

“And if he comes out, monsieur le secretaire-general?”

“Arrest him. Here’s a warrant.”

He sat down to his desk and