The Clique of Gold, Emile Gaboriau [if you liked this book .txt] 📗

whatever the wicked may say to the contrary. Yes, these wretches thought they had now surely gotten rid of you, when I came in. That very morning, the woman Chevassat had told them, no doubt, ‘She’ll do it to-night!’ And that evening, Sarah, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin asked, no doubt, full of hope, ‘Is it all over?’”

Immovable, and white as marble, her eyes dilated beyond measure, and her lips half-open, poor Henrietta listened. She felt as if a bright ray of the sun had suddenly illumined the darkest depths of the abyss from which she had been barely snatched.

“Yes,” she said, “yes; now I see it all.”

Then, as the old dealer, out of breath, and his voice hoarse with indignation, paused a moment, she asked,—

“Still there is one circumstance which I cannot understand: Sarah insists upon it that she knew nothing of the forged letter by means of which Daniel was sent abroad. She told me, on the contrary, that she had wished to keep him here, because she loved him, and he loved her.”

“Ah! do not believe a word of those infamous stories,” broke in Papa Ravinet’s sister.

But the old man scratched his head, and said,—

“No, certainly not! We ought not to believe such stories. And yet, I wonder if there is not some new trick in that. Unless, indeed—But no, that would be almost too lucky for us! Unless Sarah should really love M. Champcey!”

And, as if he was afraid of having given rise to hopes which he founded upon this contingency, he added at once,—

“But let us return to facts. When Sarah was sure of you, she turned her attention to your father. While they were murdering you slowly, she abused the inexperience of Count Ville-Handry to lead him into a path at the end of which he could not but leave his honor behind him. Notice, pray, that the articles which you read are dated on the very day on which you would probably have died. That is a clear evidence of her crime. Thinking that she had gotten rid of you, she evidently said to herself, ‘And now for the father.’”

Henrietta grew red in her face, as if a jet of fire had blazed up in it. She exclaimed,—

“Great God! The proofs are coming out; the crime will be disclosed. I have no doubt the assassins told each other that Count Ville-Handry would never survive such a foul stain on his honor. And they dared all, sure as they were that that honorable man would carry the secret of their wickedness and of their unheard-of robbery with him to the grave.”

Papa Ravinet leisurely wiped the perspiration from his brow. Then he replied in a hoarse voice,—

“Yes, that was probably, that was assuredly, the way Sarah Brandon reasoned within herself.”

But Henrietta, full of admirable energy, had roused herself; and, with flushed cheeks and burning eyes, she said to him,—

“What! you knew all this? You knew that they were assassinating my father, and you did not warn him? Ah, that was cruel cautiousness!”

And quick like lightning she dashed forward, and would have rushed out, if the old lady had not promptly stepped in front of the door, saying,—

“Henrietta, poor child! where are you going?”

“To save my father, madam, who, perhaps at this very moment is struggling in the last agonies of death, as I was struggling in like manner only two nights ago.”

Quite beside herself, she had clasped the knob of the door in her hands, and tried with all the strength she still possessed to move the old lady out of the way. But Papa Ravinet seized her by the arm, and said to her solemnly,—

“Madam, I swear to you by all you hold sacred, and my sister will swear to you in like manner, that your father’s life is in no kind of danger.”

She gave up the struggle; but her face bore the expression of the most harassing anxiety. The old man continued,—

“Do you wish to defeat our triumph? Would you like to give warning to our enemies, to put them on their guard, and to deprive us of all hopes of revenge?”

Henrietta almost mechanically passed her hand to and fro across her brow, as if she hoped she could thus restore peace to her mind.

“And mind,” continued the old man with a persuasive voice, “mind that such imprudence would save our enemies, but would not save your father. Pray consider and answer me. Do you really think that your arguments would be stronger than Sarah Brandon’s? You cannot so far underrate the diabolical cunning of your enemy. Why, she has no doubt taken all possible measures to keep your father’s faith in her unshaken, and to let him die as he has lived, completely deceived by her, and murmuring with his last breath words of supreme love for her who kills him.”

These arguments were so overwhelming, that Henrietta let go the door- knob, and slowly went back to her seat by the fire. And yet she was far from being reassured.

“If I were to appeal to the police,” she suddenly proposed.

The old lady had come and taken a seat by Henrietta’s side. She took her hands in her own now, and said, gently,—

“Poor child! Do you not see that the whole power of this abominable creature lies in the fact that she employs means which are not within the reach of human justice. Believe me, my child, it is best for you to rely blindly on my brother.”

Once more the old dealer had come up to the mantlepiece. He repeated,—

“Yes, Miss Henrietta, rely on me. I have as much reason to curse Sarah Brandon as you have, and perhaps I hate her more. Rely on me; for my hatred has now been watching and waiting for years, ever anxious to reach her, and to avenge my sufferings. Yes, for long years I have been lying in wait, thirsting for vengeance, lost in darkness, but pursuing her tracks with the unwearied perseverance of the Indian. For the purpose of finding out who she is, and who her accomplices are, whence they came, and how they have met to plot together such fearful crimes,—for that purpose I have walked in the deepest mud, and stirred up heaps of infamy. But I have found out all. And yet in the whole life of Sarah Brandon,—a life of theft and murder,—I have till this moment not found a single fact which would bring her within the reach of the law, so cunning is her wickedness.”

His face brightened with an air of triumph; and his voice rose high as he added,—

“But now! This time success seemed to her so sure and so easy, that she has neglected her usual precautions. Eager to enjoy her millions, and, in proportion, weary of playing a comedy of love with your father, she has been too eager. And she is lost if we, on our side, are not also too eager.