Part 21

"My dear Elizabeth, when I engineered this theatrical stroke in the presence of the examining magistrate, in order to secure your arrest, believe me, I had no time to warn you of what I meant to do.... Ah, if I could have warned you--but it would have only disturbed you to no good purpose, besides--your being really taken by surprise was a help--there could not be any idea of collusion.... Of course, you want the answer to this riddle? You shall have it--that is why I am here.... Don't you remember, Elizabeth, that on the evening before the fatal day you told me that I had twice rung you up on the telephone? And that each time you answered the call you could not find me at the end of the line?... You cannot imagine what I felt when I heard you say that! I never telephoned! I never telephoned to the convent!

"The obvious conclusion was, that the individuals who, for some reason, did not wish to make themselves known, did wish to keep track of you, and to assure themselves that you were still at the convent, rue de la Glaciere...."

Fandor's voice trembled a little, as he went on:

"And I was at once afraid, my poor child, that these people who were pursuing you, might be the very same who had got into Madame Bourrat's house, and had tried to kill you.... Ah, do you not see how greatly it hurt and troubled me to think that I had taken you to the convent, and had there placed you in security--as I thought--but where you were far from being safe?"

Again Fandor took Elizabeth's hands in his.

"You do understand now, dear child, why I had you arrested?... I felt you would be safe here.... You see, I could not get your persecutors imprisoned and so prevent them from getting at you. To imprison you was the alternative: you are better guarded here than elsewhere."

Elizabeth smiled a little smile when she saw how moved Fandor was.

"But," replied she, "there is the other point! You certainly told me that you were sure my brother was killed in prison--in his cell!"

"Certainly, I did! The assassination of your brother was premeditated. If the criminals have had accomplices at the Depot, and such there certainly were, they have been bought over little by little.... The fact of your brother's murder is fresh in the memory of the police, of all, therefore, a special watch is kept over you. I ascertained that it would be so, and Fuselier himself assured me of it: there is a warder specially told off to keep a close guard over you, a safe man, known to be beyond suspicion.... No, Elizabeth, do believe me, if I was the cause of your horrified surprise the other day, and then of your imprisonment, I wished to be sure that you were as safe as it was possible to be; then, freed from such intense anxiety, I felt I should be at liberty to continue my investigations.... Do say you forgive me!"

All Elizabeth could say was:

"But why not have warned me?... I still can't quite see!..."

"Why, because, I only thought of the plan at the last moment! Also, because I feared you might not be able to act surprise naturally enough!... It was absolutely--yes, absolutely necessary--that everyone should take your arrest seriously.... Surely, Elizabeth, you can understand that!"

He repeated his plea.

"Do, do say you forgive me, Elizabeth!"

The smile returned to Elizabeth's lips: she was much moved.

"Indeed, I do... You are always my very good friend: you think of everything, and you watch over me as if ..."

Intimidated, blushing hotly, she stopped short, then changed the conversation.

"Do tell me if you have heard anything fresh!"

Fandor returned to his normal self also. He had sworn to himself that he would not tell Elizabeth he loved her, until he had succeeded in unravelling the tangled skein of the terrible Dollon affair.

"I shall speak," thought he, "when she is once more at peace and free, when she is out of danger. I do not want her to consent to love me just because I have devoted myself to her brother's case. Elizabeth shall be my wife, please God; but only if I deserve her, if I can win her."

And Jerome Fandor told her the story of the famous wicker trunk--but he did not mention Thomery's death, nor did he speak of the horrible murder of Jules.... What was the use of saddening Elizabeth, of adding needlessly to her terrors? Instead, he thought it better to learn what he could from her.

"I have not found that famous list!" said he.

"Oh, I beg your pardon!" cried Elizabeth. "I was so worried!... Just imagine that, I found the list after all, and I thought I had lost it! It was in one of my little handbags. I had put it there to bring to you. Here it is: they were quite willing to let me keep it!"

Fandor eagerly took the paper from Elizabeth and proceeded to examine it. Yes, it certainly was a page torn from a note-book of medium size. An unknown hand had traced the following words in bold writing. The names succeeded one another in the form of a list.

_Baroness de Vibray, April 3. Jacques Dollon._ _Dep.... idem._ _Sonia Danidoff, April 12._ _Barbey-Nanteuil, May 15._ _Gerin...?_ _Madame B...?_ _Thomery, during May._ _Barbey-Nanteuil, end May._

Fandor could not find anything more on the paper. Whilst Elizabeth sat silent, Fandor reflected:

"Baroness de Vibray, April 3. Jacques Dollon ... these correspond exactly with the commencement of this mysterious affair: the two first deaths, and the date of their death.... What does _Dep._ signify? The initials of a name--or--yes, Dep ... Depot idem--yes, _Depot the same day!_ That's it! _Sonia Danidoff, April 12_ ... the full name, the exact date. _Barbey-Nanteuil, May 15_: the affair of rue du Quatre Septembre occurred May 20; that's pretty near. Two more names, and one date which exactly tallies. _Gerin?_... _Madame B_....? Who are they? Why no date? Ah, Gerin, lawyer of Madame de Vibray, a crime planned, without date, perhaps because he was not indispensable ... and _Thomery_! Thomery, who died in the middle of May, as this plan indicates! But, how about the last line? _Barbey-Nanteuil, end of May?_ Oh, beyond a doubt the bankers were to be victims of some fresh aggression on the part of the mysterious author of these lines!"

"_Barbey-Nanteuil, end of May!_ We are at the 28th of the month: only three more days before the sinister date falls due! Are they to be attacked, or is it their money? How to defend them? How organise a trap for the mice?"

Suddenly, Fandor looked up, saw Elizabeth's anxiety, and said quietly:

"Well, this list agrees in every particular with the description you gave me of it, and I don't quite see what fresh information we are likely to get from it. However, will you leave it with me?"

Fandor rose.

"Ah, there is one point which has just occurred to me"--Fandor's voice trembled a good deal--"Do you know for a fact that your brother had bought Thomery shares?"

"He had very few, three or four. I think the Barbey-Nanteuil got them for him."

"And your brother had to pay for them by a certain date?"

"Yes."

Fandor now felt he must tear himself away. He was deeply moved.

"Elizabeth!... Elizabeth!" he cried. "I swear to you we shall clear up these dreadful mysteries amidst which we live, and more, you and I! Only have confidence, I implore you! Grant me a week's grace, less even!" Fandor pressed Elizabeth's hands as though he could never let them go! Such little hands, and so dear!

It was not a farewell he took--it was a veritable flight he took from the girl who now meant so much to him!

Leaving the prison, Fandor walked straight ahead, thinking aloud.

"It is clear--evident! The Barbey-Nanteuils have sold Thomery shares to be paid up on a certain date. Thomery was murdered so that his shares should fall to zero, and so that the Barbey-Nanteuils should realise enormous sums at their monthly clearance. Next Saturday, the coffers of the Barbey-Nanteuil bank will be full of gold, and this same Saturday is the last day of May, the fatal day inscribed on the list. Yes, this coming Saturday, they will pillage the Barbey-Nanteuil bank!"

XXV

A MOUSE TRAP

Jerome Fandor had been ringing Juve's door bell in vain: the great detective was not at home.

"What the deuce is he doing? What has become of him? Never have I needed his advice as I need it now!... His support, encouragement--what a comfort they would be!... It is possible he would have dissuaded me against the attempt--or, he might have joined forces with me! Hang it all! It was a jolly bad move on Juve's part to make himself scarce at such a critical moment for me!... It is a long time, too, since I had news of him! Were I not certain that he has sound reasons for his absence--Juve never acts haphazard--I should be desperately anxious!"

Fandor consulted his watch--four o'clock! He had time then! He could think over all the dramatic events in which he had been involved during the past weeks, beginning with the rue Norvins affair, and ending--how, and when?

At last, our journalist arrived before the immense building which forms the corner of the rue de Clichy. He saw, in front of him, the tall windows of the flat occupied by Nanteuil: on the ground floor were the bank offices.

"Well," thought Fandor, "I certainly am going to do an unconventional thing. If my summing up of them is right, these bankers are balanced, calm, cold, without imagination, and distrusting it in others. I shall have to be eloquent to convince them, to make them listen to me and get them to do what I want. Will they show me the door, as though I were an intriguer or a madman?... I shall not let them do it!... Ah, they will owe me a fine candle if I have the good luck.... Whether there will be good luck for my venture, and gratitude from the bankers, remains to be seen.... Here goes!..."

* * * * *

Seated behind their large and important looking writing table, as though judges behind a judgment seat, Messieurs Barbey and Nanteuil, in their immense reception office, separated from the rest of the world by a number of padded doors, had just said to Fandor, who was standing in front of them:

"We are listening to you, monsieur."

Fandor had asked to see the bankers, and to see them only, stating that he would wait if they were engaged. He had been shown into a handsomely furnished room, then into another, then into a third; finally, he had been ushered into the office of the partners. He had waited there for a few minutes alone. He recognised it as the same room in which he had interviewed Monsieur Barbey a few weeks earlier. Again he saw the same hangings, the same fine rugs, the same velvet arm-chair of classic design.

Then Barbey, solemn, and Nanteuil, elegant, a rose in his buttonhole, had entered the room, their manner stiff-starched, showing no surprise, accustomed as they were to receive visitors of all sorts and kinds: they were polite, but not cordial.

Fandor, accustomed to society as he was, and audacious as he had to be in the exercise of his profession, was intimidated, for a moment, by the calm simplicity of the two men--these strictly conventional bankers, to whom he was about to say such strange things, and make a most unexpected proposition!

First of all, he made excuse on excuse for having disturbed the bankers at their post time. Then anxiety overcame every consideration of conventional propriety. Full of persuasive ardour, he went straight to the point.

"Messieurs," declared he, "you are more deeply involved than you might think in the mysterious affairs occupying the attention of the police at this moment. So far, they have not got to the bottom of them. I, myself, through the necessities of my profession, and owing to other circumstances, have been drawn into an investigation, conjointly with the detective department, an investigation which has had definite results: it has enabled me to discover clues of the highest importance. I learned, too late, alas, to prevent the tragedies, that certain persons were the chosen victims of these mysterious criminals. Madame de Vibray, the Princess Danidoff were condemned beforehand; the robbery of your gold was carefully arranged. Now to my point! Messieurs, you yourselves are sentenced: the execution of the sentence to be carried out three days hence. Do you believe me?"

Fandor had drawn nearer the two bankers: only the immense mahogany writing-table stood between them!

The partners had listened with cold attention: nevertheless, a slight trembling of Monsieur Barbey's lips betrayed hidden feeling. Noticing this, Fandor was emboldened to proceed.

Monsieur Nanteuil, in a slightly sneering tone, but with a perfectly correct manner, replied to the ardent young journalist:

"We are greatly obliged to you, monsieur, for the sympathy you have shown us by coming to give us information regarding the mysterious assassins, whom the police are so zealously trying to round up. Believe me, we are accustomed to take our precautions, seeing that we have the handling of enormous sums of money. We are none the less grateful to you for your interest in us, and for your warning."

"It is not a question of gratitude," interrupted Fandor sharply. "We have to deal with very strong opponents. I say 'we' because I have become more and more personally involved in all these crime-tragedies. Believe me, I speak from five years' experience as a reporter, who has had to report, on an average, one crime a day!... Up to now, nothing, absolutely nothing has hindered the criminals from executing their plans; but, warned in time, we may be able to thwart them."

"But," interrupted Monsieur Barbey, who had grown more and more serious. "What are you aiming at?"

Fandor felt that the decisive moment had arrived. Bending across the table, his face almost touching the faces of the two men, he said slowly and distinctly:

"Messieurs, I have asked _La Capitale_ to grant me three days' leave. I have brought a little travelling bag with me: here it is! Leaving home as I did about half an hour ago, I consider I have arrived at the end of my journey!... Will you offer me hospitality for the next forty-eight hours?... I know that you, Monsieur Nanteuil, live above your offices, whilst Monsieur Barbey goes home every evening to his place at Saint Germain. I ask you to give up your room to me, for I am determined not to leave here for an instant!"

Fandor, in his eagerness, had spoken faster and faster, and his heart was beating violently. He stared fixedly at the two men; he quite expected that his demand would excite astonishment; that objections would be raised; and he was ready with a crowd of arguments by which to convince them and carry his point.... But, the surprise was his, for the bankers did not seem particularly astonished.

They consulted each other with a look. Then, as Barbey opened his mouth to reply, Nanteuil began to speak, rising politely at the same time.

"Monsieur Fandor, your last statements and remarks are too serious to be passed over lightly. Your offer is too generous to be rejected without consideration. Will you allow us to retire for a minute or two: my partner and I will discuss the question."

* * * * *

For about ten minutes Fandor marched up and down the sumptuous room. Then one of the padded doors opened silently, and Barbey entered more solemn than ever: Nanteuil was smiling.

"Monsieur," said Barbey, in weighty tones, "my partner and I, in view of the exceptional seriousness of the situation, for your words carry conviction--have come to a decision: we beg of you to consider yourself our guest from this moment, and to consider this house as your own!"

"And it is understood, of course, that you dine with us this evening!" added Nanteuil with friendly graciousness. "Monsieur Barbey will be of the party, and will pass the night in our company ... and you can count on it, that we shall drink a good bottle of Burgundy to enable us to await with patience and serenity the audacious individuals you say we are to expect.... Dear Monsieur Fandor, here are some illustrated papers with some gay sketches of dear little women to exercise your patience over, whilst we sign our outgoing letters as fast as possible...."

XXVI

IN THE TRAP

The servant had retired, leaving the three men to their fruit and wine. His hosts turned to Fandor in mute interrogation.... But Fandor continued to peel a superb peach with the utmost coolness: he did not seem disposed to talk.

Barbey broke the silence.

"Tell me, now that your first day on guard is ended, and you have not left us for a moment--have you noticed anything at all suspicious?"

Fandor shook his head. "Nothing whatever."

This was not strictly true; for he had noticed an individual in the bank, occupied in repairing the telephone. He had made discreet inquiries, and had been told that he was a workman sent by the State, at the request of the bankers, to see that the lines were in good working order. This explanation had at first set his mind at rest regarding the comings and goings of this individual.

But, just when he was going in to dinner at seven o'clock, Fandor had come across the man in the vestibule of the bank making preparations to depart. It had been a painful surprise for Fandor. He recognised the man, but could not remember exactly who he was, or where he had seen him....

Was this workman one of the mysterious band of criminals who, he was more and more convinced, meant to strike a blow at Monsieur Barbey, and his partner, Nanteuil?

If Fandor had had anything to go upon, he would have had the man shadowed. But he had no sure ground for his suspicions; besides, sent by the State, the man was most probably what he seemed. As he was working for the Government, he could easily be traced should such a step be found necessary. But to make certain that all was as it should be, Fandor had examined the work done by this individual during the day. There was nothing wrong with it: beyond a doubt, the man was an expert. Therefore, Fandor had felt justified in saying that he had noticed nothing suspicious during the day.

"So much the worse," remarked Monsieur Barbey, with a shrug.... "Probably the individuals who are threatening us, have been warned of your presence here, and are on their guard. I rejoice as far as we are concerned; but, as regards the general interest, I almost regret it: that your trap should prove effective, is what we must wish."

"Have no fear, dear Monsieur Barbey, it will not be laid in vain! Knowing the cunning, the cleverness of my adversaries, I have not the least doubt they know I am here; but I also know that the audacity of these criminals is such, that my presence here would not deter them from making their attempt. They believe themselves the stronger, but I hope to undeceive them."

"What is your plan of campaign to-night?" asked Monsieur Nanteuil.

"Before replying to that, will you show me all the means of access to the house?"

"With the greatest pleasure."

The three men left the dining-room: then went into the vestibule.

"Our courtyard gate is at the far end of the house, on the right," said Nanteuil. "On the left, there are the Bank offices: they occupy this ground floor. The only entrance to them is through this vestibule. This door closed, it is impossible to get in."

"Not by the windows looking on to the street?" asked Fandor.

"No, those windows have heavy iron bars before them. To remove them would be difficult--very ... As to the windows looking on to the garden, they are closed every evening--you can see for yourself--by strong wooden shutters fastened on the inside."

"So the Bank offices are perfectly protected?" said Fandor.

"We believe so. Now, come upstairs to the floor above!... Here is a large corridor, and that door, on the right, opens into a library. The two rooms which come next, are my own room and a dressing-room. The other rooms are unoccupied."

"Does your room face the street or the garden?" asked Fandor.

"The garden."

"And the windows?"

"The windows?"

"Yes. Would it be difficult, or impossible to climb up to them?"

"It would be difficult, but not impossible. No one ever enters the garden. If absolutely necessary, a ladder could be placed against them, a square of glass could be cut out, and the fastening could be undone ... but come and see the room, you can then judge for yourself."

Fandor inspected the room most carefully. The banker was right. It would be comparatively easy to get into the room by the window; but the other entrances to the room could be easily watched; they resolved themselves into one door, which opened on to the corridor.

Monsieur Nanteuil's room was lightly furnished: he evidently favoured the modern method: it was a bare apartment, but it was hygienic.

"Ah," said Fandor, "the bed has its back to the door, and faces the window. Very right. You have electric light, I see, near the fireplace, and above your bed. Then it is possible to switch on a bright light at any time.... Valuable, that!"

Having finished a minute inspection of the room, and, to the amusement of the bankers, having looked under the bed to make sure that no one had hidden himself beneath it, Fandor declared:

"I am decidedly pleased with this room, and if you see no objection, I wish to stay here and await the visitors of to-night."

"You think of sleeping here alone?"

"Alone! Decidedly, I do! It is pretty certain that these men know every inch of your flat; and if they are the sort I take them to be, they will make certain that everything here is as usual before attempting to attack the Bank. I do not wish them to be frightened off by finding a companion at my side, and I particularly wish them to mistake me for you...."

"But that is frightfully dangerous, surely?" objected Nanteuil.

"Reassure yourself, monsieur, I do not run any great risk. They won't know I am watching them; but I shall have this advantage over them--I am on the lookout for the rascally assassins and robbers, and I do not fear them in the slightest."

Fandor was not going to own that he knew there was danger; but he was keenly set on running this particular risk, for, by so doing, might he not discover the truth?

When the bankers left him for the night, Fandor again examined every corner of the room, and all it contained. He tested the electric light switch; he took a mental photograph of the situation of the pieces of furniture. He got into bed, half dressed, and lay quietly, grasping his revolver, fully loaded.

He switched off the light, and in that large room, veiled in darkness, he awaited the events of the night. Noises from the street reached him indistinctly. The silence about him was menacing: something was going to happen here, something sudden, unforeseen, perhaps irremediable.

Minute by minute, time went by, interminable, monotonous, casting a soft veil of sleep over the eyes of Fandor. But thoughts were rising within him: more and more keenly he was realising the horrible danger he was exposing himself to. Beneath closed eyes his brain was active, his imagination afire.

"Elizabeth Dollon must be avenged," was his persistent thought. "Consequently, I must run some risks to achieve that!"

A definite fear tormented him. He thought of the curious sleep Elizabeth had fallen victim to in the boarding-house.

"Provided I have not taken some narcotic without knowing it!... Suppose the villains are going to inject into the room some gas which would suffocate me, and I should not know I was breathing it in? Suppose I lose consciousness and slip into death?"

But Fandor drew himself together; he stiffened his will.

Do they know I am in this room waiting to entrap them? Do they think they will find Nanteuil here defenceless? Who was that workman?... I ought to be able to put a name to that familiar face?