The Crystal Stopper, Maurice Leblanc [i can read books TXT] 📗

surrounding clamour:

“Don’t be afraid, little ’un!⁠ ⁠… The governor’s here!”

A tumult and hustling followed. The municipal guards and the policemen rushed into court and laid hold of a big, red-faced man, who was stated by his neighbours to be the author of that outburst and who struggled hand and foot.

Questioned without delay, he gave his name, Philippe Bonel, an undertaker’s man, and declared that someone sitting beside him had offered him a hundred-franc note if he would consent, at the proper moment, to shout a few words which his neighbour scribbled on a bit of paper. How could he refuse?

In proof of his statements, he produced the hundred-franc note and the scrap of paper.

Philippe Bonel was let go.

Meanwhile, Lupin, who of course had assisted energetically in the individual’s arrest and handed him over to the guards, left the law-courts, his heart heavy with anguish. His car was waiting for him on the quay. He flung himself into it, in despair, seized with so great a sorrow that he had to make an effort to restrain his tears. Gilbert’s cry, his voice wrung with affliction, his distorted features, his tottering frame: all this haunted his brain; and he felt as if he would never, for a single second, forget those impressions.

He drove home to the new place which he had selected among his different residences and which occupied a corner of the Place de Clichy. He expected to find the Growler and the Masher, with whom he was to kidnap Daubrecq that evening. But he had hardly opened the door of his flat, when a cry escaped him: Clarisse stood before him; Clarisse, who had returned from Brittany at the moment of the verdict.

He at once gathered from her attitude and her pallor that she knew. And, at once, recovering his courage in her presence, without giving her time to speak, he exclaimed:

“Yes, yes, yes⁠ ⁠… but it doesn’t matter. We foresaw that. We couldn’t prevent it. What we have to do is to stop the mischief. And tonight, you understand, tonight, the thing will be done.”

Motionless and tragic in her sorrow, she stammered:

“Tonight?”

“Yes. I have prepared everything. In two hours, Daubrecq will be in my hands. Tonight, whatever means I have to employ, he shall speak.”

“Do you mean that?” she asked, faintly, while a ray of hope began to light up her face.

“He shall speak. I shall have his secret. I shall tear the list of the Twenty-Seven from him. And that list will set your son free.”

“Too late,” Clarisse murmured.

“Too late? Why? Do you think that, in exchange for such a document, I shall not obtain Gilbert’s pretended escape?⁠ ⁠… Why, Gilbert will be at liberty in three days! In three days⁠ ⁠…”

He was interrupted by a ring at the bell:

“Listen, here are our friends. Trust me. Remember that I keep my promises. I gave you back your little Jacques. I shall give you back Gilbert.”

He went to let the Growler and the Masher in and said:

“Is everything ready? Is old Brindebois at the restaurant? Quick, let us be off!”

“It’s no use, governor,” replied the Masher.

“No use? What do you mean?”

“There’s news.”

“What news? Speak, man!”

“Daubrecq has disappeared.”

“Eh? What’s that? Daubrecq disappeared?”

“Yes, carried off from his house, in broad daylight.”

“The devil! By whom?”

“Nobody knows⁠ ⁠… four men⁠ ⁠… there were pistols fired⁠ ⁠… The police are on the spot. Prasville is directing the investigations.”

Lupin did not move a limb. He looked at Clarisse Mergy, who lay huddled in a chair.

He himself had to bow his head. Daubrecq carried off meant one more chance of success lost⁠ ⁠…

VII The Profile of Napoleon

Soon as the prefect of police, the chief of the criminal-investigation department and the examining-magistrates had left Daubrecq’s house, after a preliminary and entirely fruitless inquiry, Prasville resumed his personal search.

He was examining the study and the traces of the struggle which had taken place there, when the portress brought him a visiting-card, with a few words in pencil scribbled upon it.

“Show the lady in,” he said.

“The lady has someone with her,” said the portress.

“Oh? Well, show the other person in as well.”

Clarisse Mergy entered at once and introduced the gentleman with her, a gentleman in a black frock-coat, which was too tight for him and which looked as though it had not been brushed for ages. He was shy in his manner and seemed greatly embarrassed how to dispose of his old, rusty top-hat, his gingham umbrella, his one and only glove and his body generally.

“M. Nicole,” said Clarisse, “a private teacher, who is acting as tutor to my little Jacques. M. Nicole has been of the greatest help to me with his advice during the past year. He worked out the whole story of the crystal stopper. I should like him, as well as myself⁠—if you see no objection to telling me⁠—to know the details of this kidnapping business, which alarms me and upsets my plans; yours too, I expect?”

Prasville had every confidence in Clarisse Mergy. He knew her relentless hatred of Daubrecq and appreciated the assistance which she had rendered in the case. He therefore made no difficulties about telling her what he knew, thanks to certain clues and especially to the evidence of the portress.

For that matter, the thing was exceedingly simple. Daubrecq, who had attended the trial of Gilbert and Vaucheray as a witness and who was seen in court during the speeches, returned home at six o’clock. The portress affirmed that he came in alone and that there was nobody in the house at the time. Nevertheless, a few minutes later, she heard shouts, followed by the sound of a struggle and two pistol-shots; and from her lodge she saw four masked men scuttle down the front steps, carrying Daubrecq the deputy, and hurry toward the gate. They opened the gate. At the same moment, a motorcar arrived outside the house. The four men bundled themselves into it; and the motorcar, which had hardly had time to stop, set off at full speed.

“Were there