Classic Audiobook Collection - The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Leblanc ~ Full Audiobook [mystery]

Episode Date: January 25, 2024

The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Leblanc audiobook. Genre: mystery In The Eight Strokes of the Clock, Maurice Leblanc sends Arsene Lupin, France's legendary gentleman-thief, into a different kind of game: not a heist, but a sequence of puzzles where time itself seems to set the rules. When the daring and newly widowed Countess of Cagliostro crosses paths with Lupin, she is drawn into an unusual arrangement - eight promised adventures, each marked by a stroke of a clock and each leading toward a larger, hidden design. From country houses and lonely roads to seaside towns and shadowed estates, the pair follow cryptic clues, coded messages, and seemingly impossible coincidences. Lupin, charming and unreadable as ever, must balance gallantry with suspicion, because every mystery offers two dangers: the trap laid by an enemy and the trap laid by desire. As the cases unfold, the countess discovers that Lupin's greatest talent is not merely stealing valuables, but stealing certainty - turning suspects into allies, victims into accomplices, and straightforward crimes into intricate riddles. Fast, elegant, and suspenseful, this collection blends romance, wit, and classic detective intrigue into a race against the next chime. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:51:49) Chapter 02 (01:40:19) Chapter 03 (02:25:10) Chapter 04 (03:12:43) Chapter 05 (04:01:16) Chapter 06 (04:47:08) Chapter 07 (05:38:37) Chapter 08 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

the eight strokes of the clock by moris leblanc author's note these adventures were told to me in the old days by arson lupin as though they had happened to a friend of his named prince as for me considering the way in which they were conducted the actions the behavior and the very character of the hero i find it very difficult not to identify the two friends as one and the same person arson lupin is gifted with a powerful imagination and is quite capable of attributing the two friends as one and the same person arson lupin is gifted with a powerful imagination and is quite capable of attributing to himself adventures which are not his at all and of disowning those which are really his the reader will judge for himself m l chapter one on the top of the tower orthens daniel pushed her window ajar and whispered are you there rosigny i am here replied a voice from the shrubbery at the front of the house leaning forward she saw a rather fat man looking up at her out of a gross red face with its cheeks and chin set in unpleasantly fair whiskers well he asked well i had a great argument with my uncle and aunt last night they absolutely refused to sign the document of which my lawyer sent them the draft or to restore the dowry squandered by my husband but your uncle is responsible by the terms of the marriage settlement no matter he refuses well what do you propose to do hugh are you still determined to run away with me she asked with a laugh more so than ever your intentions are strictly honourable remember just as you please you know that i am madly in love with you unfortunately i am not madly in love with you then what made you choose me chance i was bored i was growing tired of my humdrum existence so i'm ready to run risks here's my luggage

Catch. She let down from the window a couple of large leather kit bags. Rizigny caught them in his arms. The dye is cast, she whispered. Go and wait for me with your car at the If crossroads. I shall come on horseback. Hang it, I can't run off with your horse. He will go home by himself.

Capital? Oh, by the way. What is it? Who is this Prince Rienin who's been here the last three days and whom nobody seems to know. I don't know much about him. My uncle met him at a friend's shoot and asked him here to stay. You seem to have made a great impression on him.

You went for a long ride with him yesterday. He's a man I don't care for. In two hours I shall have left the house in your company. The scandal will cool him off. Well, we've talked long enough. We have no time to lose. For a few minutes, she stood watching the fat man, bending under the weight of her traps,

as he moved away in the shelter of an empty Avenue. Then she closed the window. Outside in the park, the huntsman's horns were sounding the riviere. The hounds burst into frantic baying. It was the opening day of the hunt that morning at the Chateau de la Marese, where every year, in the first week in September, the Count de Gleros, a mighty hunter before the Lord, and his countess were accustomed to invite a few personal friends and the neighboring landowners. Orten's slowly finished dressing put on a riding habit, which revealed the lines of her supple figure, and a wide-brimmed, felt hat, which encircled her lovely face and auburn hair, and sat down to her writing-desk, at which she wrote to her

uncle, Monsieur Deglerosh, a farewell letter to be delivered to him that evening. It was a difficult letter to word, and after beginning it several times, she ended by giving up the idea. I will write to him later, she said to herself, when his anger has cooled down. And she went downstairs to the dining-room. Enormous logs were blazing in the hearth of the lofty room. The walls were hung with trophies of rifles and shotguns. The guests were flocking in from every side, shaking hands with the Count de Glerosh, one of those typical country squires, heavily and powerfully built, who lives only for

hunting and shooting. He was standing before the fire with a large glass of old brandy in his hand, drinking the health of each new arrival. Ortenes kissed him absently. "'Wh, uncle, you who are usually so sober?' "'Poo,' he said, "'a man may surely indulge himself a little once a year. "'Aunt will give you a scolding.'

"'Your aunt has one of her sick headaches "'and is not coming down.' "'Besides,' he added gruffly, "'it is not her business, "'and still less is it yours, my dear child.' "'Prince Renin came up to Ortenes. "'He was a young man, very smartly dressed, "'with a narrow and rather pale face.

whose eyes held by turns the gentlest and the harshest the most friendly and the most satirical expression he bowed to her kissed her hand and said may i remind you of your kind promise dear madame my promise yes we agreed that we should repeat our delightful excursion of yesterday and tried to go over that old boarded-up place the look of which made us so curious it seems to be known as the domenda she answered a little curtly i'm extremely sorry monsieur but it would be rather far and i'm feeling a little done up i shall go for a canter in the park and come indoors again there was a pause then serge renin said smiling with his eyes fixed on hers and in a voice which she alone could hear i am sure that you'll keep your promise and that you'll let me come with you it would be better for whom for you you mean for you too i assure you she colored slagely but did not reply shook hands with a few people around her and left the room A groom was holding the horse at the foot of the steps. She mounted and set off towards the woods beyond the park. It was a cool, still morning. Through the leaves which barely quivered, the sky showed crystalline blue. Ortenes rode at a walk down winding avenues, which in half an hour brought her to a countryside of ravines and bluffs, intersected by the high road.

She stopped. There was not a sound. Rizigny must have stopped his engine and concealed the car in the thickets around the if-quered. crossroads. She was five hundred yards at most from that circular space. After hesitating for a few seconds, she dismounted, tied her horse carelessly, so that he could release himself by the least effort, and returned to the house, shrouded her face in the long brown veil that hung over her shoulders, and walked on. As she expected, she saw Razigny, directly she reached the first turn in the road. He ran up to her and threw her into the coppice. "'Quick, quick! Oh, I was so afraid that you would be late, or even change your mind.

"'And here you are. It seems too good to be true.' "'She smiled. You appear to be quite happy to do an idiotic thing. "'I should think I am happy, and so will you be. I swear you will. "'Your life will be one long fairy tale. You shall have every luxury and all the money you can wish for. "'I want neither money nor luxuries.' What then? Happiness. You can safely leave your happiness to me. She replied, Justingly, I rather doubt the quality of the happiness which you would give me. Wait, you'll see, you'll see. They had reached the motor.

Resigny, still stammering expressions of delight, started the engine. Artin stepped in and wrapped herself in a wide cloak. The car followed the narrow, grassy path which led back to the crossroads, and Rosigny was accelerating the speed when he was suddenly forced to pull up. A shot had rung out from the neighbouring wood on the right. The car was swerving from side to side. A front tire burst, shouted Rosigny, leaping to the ground. Not a bit of it, cried Ortenes. Somebody fired.

Impossible, my dear, don't be so absurd. At that moment two slight shocks were felt, and two more reports were heard, one after the other, some way off and still in the wood. Rizigny snarled. The backtires burst now, both of them. But who in the devil's name can the ruffian be? Just let me get hold of him, that's all.

He clambered up the roadside slope. There was no one there. Moreover, the leaves of the coppice blocked the view. Damn it! He swore. You were right. Somebody was firing at the car. Oh, this is a bit thick.

We shall be held up for hours, three tires to mend. But what are you doing, dear girl? Ortenes herself had alighted from the car. She ran to him, greatly excited. I'm going. But why? I want to know. Someone fired.

I want to know who it was. Don't let us separate, please. Do you think I'm going to wait here for you for hours? What about you're running away? all our plans we'll discuss that to-morrow go back to the house take back my things with you and good-bye for the present she hurried left him had the good luck to find her horse and set off at a gallop in a direction leading away from la there was not the least doubt in her mind that the three shots had been fired by prince renin it was he she muttered angrily it was he no one else would be capable of such behaviour besides he had warned her in his smiling masterful way that he would expect her she was weeping with rage and humiliation at that moment had she found herself face to face with prince renin she could have struck him with her riding-whip before her was the rugged and picturesque stretch of country which lies between the orne and the sartte above alon and which is known as little switzerland steep hills compelled her frequently to moderate her pace the moreso as she had to cover some six miles before reaching her destination

but though the speed at which she rode became less headlong though her physical effort gradually slackened she nevertheless persisted in her indignation against prince she bore him a grudge not only for the unspeakable action of which he had been guilty but also for his behaviour to her during the last three days his persistent attentions his assurance his air of excessive politeness she was nearly there in the bottom of a valley an old park wall full of cracks and covered with moss and weeds revealed the bald turret of a chateau and a few windows with closed shutters this was the domen de she followed the wall and turned a corner in the middle of the crescent-shaped space before which lay the entrance gates serge reinan stood waiting beside his horse she sprang to the ground and as he stepped forward hat in hand thanking her for coming she cried one word monsieur to begin with something quite inexplicable happened just now three shots were fired at a motor-car in which i was sitting did you fire those shots yes She seemed dumbfounded. Then you confess it. You have asked a question, madame, and I have answered it.

But how dared you? What gave you the right? I was not exercising a right, madame. I was performing a duty. Indeed, and what duty, pray? The duty of protecting you against a man who is trying to profit by your troubles. I forbid you to speak like that. I am responsible for you.

my own actions, and I decided upon them in perfect liberty. Madame, I overheard your conversation with Mr. Rezigny this morning, and it did not appear to me that you were accompanying him with a light heart. I admit the ruthlessness and bad taste of my interference, and I apologize for it humbly, but I risked being taken for a ruffian in order to give you a few hours for reflection. I have reflected fully, monsieur. When I have once made up my mind to a thing, I do. not change it. Yes, madame, you do sometimes. If not, why are you here instead of there?

Ortenes was confused for a moment. All her anger had subsided. She looked at Chenin with the surprise which when experiences, when confronted with certain persons who are unlike their fellows, more capable of performing unusual actions, more generous and disinterested. She realized perfectly that he was acting without any ulterior motive or Calgary. that he was, as he had said, merely fulfilling his duty as a gentleman to a woman who has taken the wrong turning. Speaking very gently, he said, I know very little about you, madame, but enough to make me wish to be of use to you. You are twenty-six years old, and have lost both your parents. Seven years ago, you became the wife

of the Count de Glorosch's nephew by marriage, who proved to be of unsound mind, half insane indeed, and had to be confined. This made it impossible for you to obtain a divorce, and compelled you, since your dowry had been squandered, to live with your uncle and at his expense. It's a depressing environment. The Count and Countess do not agree. Years ago, the Count was deserted by his first wife, who ran away with the Countess's first husband. The abandoned husband and wife decided out of spite to unite their fortunes, but found nothing but disappointment and ill-will in this second marriage. marriage, and you suffer the consequences. They lead a monotonous, narrow, lonely life for eleven months or more out of the year. One day you met Monsieur Razzigny, who fell in love with you,

and suggested an elopement. You did not care for him, but you were bored, your youth was being wasted, you longed for the unexpected, for adventure. In a word, you accepted, with the very definite intention of keeping your admirer at arm's length, but also with the rather ingenuous hope that the scandal would force your uncle's hand, and make him account for his trusteeship and assure you of an independent existence. That is how you stand. At present you have to choose between placing ourselves and Monsieur Rézigny's hands, or trusting yourself to me. She raised her eyes to his. What did he mean? What was the purport of this offer which he made so seriously, like a friend who asks nothing but to prove his devotion.

After a moment's silence, he took the two horses by the bridle and tied them up. Then he examined the heavy gates, each of which was strengthened by two planks, nailed crosswise. An electoral poster, dated twenty years earlier, showed that no one had entered the domain since that time. Renin tore up one of the iron posts which supported a railing that ran round the crescent and used it as a lever. The rotten planks gave way. One of them uncovered the lock which he attacked with a big knife, containing a number of blades and implements. A minute later, the gate opened on a waste of bracken which led up to a long, dilapidated building, with a turret at each corner and a sort of belvedere built on a taller tower in the middle. The prince turned to Orteens.

You are in no hurry, he said. You will form your decision this evening, and if Mr. Rosigny succeeds in persuading you for the second time, I give you my word of honor that I shall not cross your path. Until then, grant me the privilege of your company. We made up our minds yesterday to inspect the chateau. Let us do so. Will you? It is as good a way as any of passing the time, and I have a notion that it will not be uninteresting. He had a way of talking which compelled obedience.

He seemed to be commanding and entreating at the same time. Ortenes did not even seek to shake off the enervation into which her will was slowly sinking. She followed him to a half-demolished flight of steps, at the top of which was a door, likewise strengthened by planks nailed into the form of a cross. Regin went to work in the same way as before. They entered a spacious hall, paved with white and black flagstones, furnished with old sideboards and choir stalls, and adorned with a carved ascuchin, which displayed the remains.

remains of armorial bearings, representing an eagle standing on a block of stone, all half hidden behind a veil of cobwebs which hung down over a pair of folding doors. The door of the drawing-room evidently, said Reginin. He found this more difficult to open, and it was only by repeatedly charging it with his shoulder that he was able to move one of the doors. Ortenes had not spoken a word. She watched not without surprise this serious. series of forcible entries, which were accomplished with a really masterly skill. He guessed her thoughts, and, turning round, said in a serious voice,

"'I was a locksmith once.' She seized his arm and whispered, "'Listen!' "'To what?' he asked. She increased the pressure of her hand to demand silence. The next moment he murmured, "'It's really very strange.' "'Listen, listen, listen.

Listen, Portens repeated in bewilderment. Can it be possible? They heard, not far from where they were standing, a sharp sound, the sound of a light tap recurring at regular intervals, and they had only to listen attentively to recognize the ticking of a clock. Yes, it was this and nothing else that broke the profound silence of the dark room. It was indeed the deliberate ticking, rhythmical as the beat of a metronome, produced by a heavy brass pendulum.

That was it, and nothing could be more impressive than the measured pulsation of this trivial mechanism, which by some miracle, some inexplicable phenomenon, had continued to live in the heart of the dead chateau. And yet, stammered Orteens without daring to raise her voice, no one has entered the house? No one. and it is quite impossible for that clock to have kept going for twenty years without being wound up quite impossible then

serg reinin opened the three windows and threw back the shutters he and d'artens were in a drawing-room as he had thought and the room showed not the least sign of disorder the chairs were in their places not a piece of furniture was missing the people who had lived there and who had made it the most individual room in their house had gone away leaving everything just as it was the books which they used to read the knick-knacks on the tables and consoles renin examined the old grandfather's clock contained in its tall carved case which showed the disc of the pendulum through an oval pane of glass he opened the door of the clock the weights hanging from the cords were at their lowest point at that moment there was a click the clock struck eight with a serious note which ortens was never to forget how extraordinary she said extraordinary indeed said he for the works are exceedingly simple and would hardly keep going for a week and do you see nothing under the common no nothing or at least He stooped, and from the back of the case drew a metal tube which was concealed by the weights, holding it up to the light. A telescope, he said thoughtfully.

Why did they hide it, and they left it drawn out to its full length? That's odd. What does it mean? The clock, as is sometimes usual, began to strike a second time, sounding eight strokes. Rennin closed the case and continued his inspection without putting his telescope down. A wide arch led from the drawing-room to a smaller apartment, a sort of smoking-room. This also was furnished, but contained a glass case for guns of which the rack was empty. Hanging on a panel nearby was a calendar with the date of the 5th of September.

Oh! cried Ortenes in astonishment. The same date as today! They tore off the leaves until the 5th of September. This is the anniversary. What an astonishing coincidence. Astonishing, he echoed. It's the anniversary of their departure, twenty years ago today.

You must admit, she said, that all this is incomprehensible. Yes, of course, but all the same, perhaps not. Have you any idea? He waited for a few. seconds before replying. What puzzles me is this telescope hidden, dropped in that corner at the last moment? I wonder what it was used for. From the ground-floor windows you see nothing but the trees in the garden. And the same I expect from all the windows. We are in a valley without the least

open horizon. To use the telescope one would have to go up to the top of the house. Shall we go up? She did not hesitate. The mysteries are surrounding the whole adventure excited her curiosity so keenly that she could think of nothing but accompanying Rignin and assisting him in his investigations. They went upstairs accordingly, and on the second floor came to a landing where they found the spiral staircase leading to the velvadier. At the top of this was a platform in the open air, but surrounded by a parapet over six feet high. There must have been battlements which have been filled in since, observed Prince Rennin, look here there were loopholes at one time they may have been blocked in any case she said the telescope was of no use up here either and we may as well go down again i don't agree he said logic tells us that there must have been some gap through which the country could be seen and this was the spot where the telescope was used

he hoisted himself by his wrists to the top of the parapet and then saw that this point of vantage commanded the whole of the valley including the park with its tall trees marking the horizon and beyond a depression in a wood surmounting a hill at a distance of some seven or eight hundred yards stood another tower squat and in ruins covered with ivy from top to bottom renninn resumed his inspection he seemed to consider that the key to the problem lay in the use to which the telescope was put and that the problem would be solved if only they could discover this use he studied the loopholes one after the other one of them or rather the place which it had occupied attracted his attention above the rest in the middle of the layer of plaster which had served to block it there was a hollow filled with earth in which plants had grown he pulled out the plants and removed the earth thus clearing the mouth of a hole some five inches in diameter which completely penetrated the wall on bending forward renin perceived that this deep and narrow opening inevitably carried the eye above the dense tops of the trees and through the depression in the hill to the ivy-clad tower at the bottom of this channel in a sort of groove which ran through it like a gutter the telescope fitted so exactly that it was quite impossible to shift it however the bottom of this channel in a sort of groove which ran through it like a gutter the telescope fitted so exactly that it was quite impossible to shift it ever little, either to the right or to the left. Renin, after wiping the outside of the lenses,

while taking care not to disturb the lie of the instrument by a hair's breadth, put his eye to the small end. He remained for thirty or forty seconds, gazing attentively and silently. Then he drew himself up and said, in a husky voice, It's terrible. It's really terrible. What is it? she asked anxiously. Look.

She bent down, but the image was not clear to her, and the telescope had to be focused to suit her sight. The next moment she shuddered and said, It's two scarecrowes, isn't it? Both stuck up on the top. But why? Look again, he said. Look more carefully under the hats, the faces.

Oh! she cried turning faint with horror how awful the field of the telescope like the circular picture shown by a magic lantern presented this spectacle the platform of a broken tower the walls of which were higher in the more distant part and formed as it were a backdrop over which surged waves of ivy in front amid a cluster of bushes were two human beings a man and a woman leaning back against a heap of fallen stones. But the words man and woman could hardly be applied to these two forms, these two sinister puppets, which, it is true, wore clothes and hats, or rather shreds of clothes and remnants of hats, but had lost their eyes, their cheeks, their chins, every particle of flesh, until they were actually and positively nothing more than two skeletons. Two skeletons!

stammered Ortenes. Two skeletons with clothes on. Who carried them up there? Nobody. But still. That man and that woman must have died at the top of the tower

years and years ago, and their flesh rotted under their clothes, and the ravens ate them. But it's hideous, hideous! cried D'Octens, pale as death, her face drawn with horror. Half an hour later,

Ortens Daniel and Renin left the Chateau de Allengre. Before their departure, they had gone as far as the ivory-grown tower, the remains of an old Donjon keep, more than half demolished. The inside was empty. There seemed to have been a way of climbing to the top

at a comparatively recent period by means of wooden stairs and ladders which now lay broken and scattered over the ground. The tower backed against the wall, which marked the end of the park. A curious fact which surprised Ortens was that Prince Renin had neglected to pursue a more minute inquiry as though the matter had lost all interest for him. He did not even speak of it any longer, and in the inn at which they stopped and took a

light meal in the nearest village, it was she who asked the landlord about the abandoned chateau. But she learned nothing from him, for the man was new to the district and could give her no particulars. He did not even know the name of the owner. They turned their horse's heads towards La Marese. Again and again Ortenes recalled the squalid sight which had met their eyes. But Renin was in a lively mood and full of attentions to his companion seemed utterly indifferent to those questions. But after all, she exclaimed impatiently, we can't leave the matter there. It calls for a solution? As you say, he replied, a solution is called for.

Mr. Rosigny has to know where he stands, and you have to decide what to do about him. She shrugged her shoulders. He's of no importance for the moment. The thing today is what? Is to know what those two dead bodies are? Still, Rosigny. Rosigny can wait, but I can't. you have shown me a mystery which is now the only thing that matters what do you intend to do to do yes there are two bodies you'll inform the police i suppose gracious goodness he exclaimed laughing what for well there's a riddle that has to be cleared up at all costs a terrible tragedy we don't need anyone to do that what do you mean to say that you understand it almost as plainly as though i had read it in a book told in full detail with explanatory illustrations it's all so simple she looked at him askance wondering if he was making fun of her but he seemed quite serious well she asked quivering with curiosity the light was beginning to wane they had trotted at a good pace and the hunt was returning as they neared la well he said we shall get the rest of our information from people living round about from your uncle for instance and you will see how logically all the facts fit in when you hold the first link of a chain you are bound whether you like it or not to reach the last it's the greatest fun in the world

once in the house they separated on going to her room altens found her luggage and a furious letter from rassigny in which he bade her good-bye and announced his departure then rennin knocked at her door your uncle is in the library he said will you go down with me i've sent word that i am coming she went with him he added one word more this morning when i thwarted your plans and begged you to trust me i naturally undertook an obligation towards you which i mean to fulfil without delay i want to give you a positive proof of this she laughed the only obligation which you took upon yourself was to satisfy my curiosity it shall be satisfied he assured her gravely and more fully than you can possibly imagine m de glouche was alone he was smoking his pipe and drinking sherry he offered a glass to renninn who refused well ortens he said in a rather thick voice you know that it's pretty dull here except in these september days you must make the most of them have you had a pleasant rug with that's just what i wanted to talk about my dear sir interrupted the prince you must excuse me but i have to go to the station in ten minutes to meet a friend of my wife's oh ten minutes will be ample just the time to smoke a cigarette no longer he took a cigarette from the case which mr de glouche handed to him lit it and said i must tell you that our ride happened to take us to an old domain which you are sure to know the domen de certainly i know it but it has been closed boarded up for twenty-five years or so you weren't able to get in i suppose yes we were really was it interesting extremely we discovered the strangest things

what things asked the count looking at his watch renin described what they had seen on a tower some way from the house there were two dead bodies two skeletons rather a man and a woman still wearing the clothes which they had on when they were murdered come come now murdered yes and that is what we have come to trouble you about the tragedy must date back to some twenty years ago but has nothing known of it at the time certainly not declared said the Count, I never heard of any such crime or disappearance. Oh, really? said Renin, looking a little disappointed. I hope to obtain a few particulars. I'm sorry. In that case, I apologize. He consulted Ortens with a glance and moved towards the door, but on second thought, could you not at least, my dear sir, bring me into touch with some persons in the neighbourhood, some members of your family, who might know more about it? of my family and why because the domende alingre used to be long and no doubt still belongs to the d'aglerushes the arms are an eagle on a heap of stones on a rock this at once suggested the connection

this time the count appeared surprised he pushed back his decanter and his glass of sherry and said what's this you're telling me i had no idea that we had any such neighbors renin shook his head and smiled I should be more inclined to believe, sir, that you were not very eager to admit any relationship between yourself and the unknown owner of the property. Then he's not a respectable man? The man, to put it plainly, is a murderer. What do you mean? The Count had risen from his chair. Ortenes, greatly excited, said,

Are you really sure that there has been a murder, and that the murder was done by someone belonging to the house? Quite sure. But why are you so certain? Because I know who the two victims were and what caused them to be killed. Prince Rignan was making none but positive statements, and his method suggested the belief that he supported by the strongest proof.

Mr. Deglerosh strode up and down the room with his hands behind his back. He ended by saying, I always had an instinctive feeling that something had happened, but I never tried to find out. now as a matter of fact twenty years ago a relation of mine a distant cousin used to live at the domenda aling i hoped because of the name i bear that this story which as i say i never knew but suspected would remain hidden forever so this cousin killed somebody yes he was obliged to renin shook his head i am sorry to have to amend that phrase my dear sir the truth on the contrary

is that your cousin took his victim's lives in cold blood and in a cowardly manner. I never heard of a crime more deliberately and craftily planned. What is it that you know? The moment had come for Renin to explain himself, a solemn and anguish-stricken moment, the full gravity of which Ortenz understood, though she had not yet divined any part of the tragedy which the prince unfolded step by step.

It's a very simple story, he said. There was every reason to believe that M. Deglerosch was married, and that there was another couple living in the neighbourhood, with whom the owner of the Domenda Allengre were on friendly terms. What happened one day, which of these four persons first disturbed the relations between the two households, I am unable to say, but a likely version, which at once occurs to the mind, is that your cousin's wife, Madame Deglerosch, was in the habit of meeting the other husband in the ivy-covered tower, which had a door opening outside the estate. estate. On discovering the intrigue, your cousin Deglerosch resolved to be revenged,

but in such a manner that there should be no scandal, and that no one even should ever know that the guilty pair had been killed. Now he had ascertained, as I did just now, that there was a part of the house, the belvedere, from which you can see over the trees and the undulations of the park, the tower standing eight hundred yards away, and that this was the only place that overlooked the top of the tower. He therefore pierced a hole in the parapet, through one of the former loopholes, and from there, by using a telescope which fitted exactly in the groove which he had hollowed out, he watched the meetings of the two lovers. And it was from there also that, after carefully taking all his measurements and calculating all his distances, on a Sunday

5th of September, when the house was empty, he killed them with two shots. The truth was becoming a the light of day was breaking the count muttered yes that's what must have happened i expected my cousin d'eglerosch the murderer renin continued stopped up the loophole neatly with a clawed of earth no one would ever know that two dead bodies were decaying on the top of that tower which was never visited and to which he took the precaution to demolish the wooden stairs nothing therefore remained for him to do but to explain the disabye appearance of his wife and his friend. This presented no difficulty. He accused them of having eloped together. Ortenes gave a start. Suddenly, as though the last sentence were a complete and to her an absolutely unexpected revelation, she understood what Renin was trying to convey. What do you mean, she asked? I mean that Mr. Deglerush accused his wife and his friend of eloping together. No, no, she cried. I can't.

Can't allow that. You're speaking of a cousin of my uncle's. Why mix up the two stories? Why mix up this story with another which took place at that time? said the prince. But I'm not mixing them up, my dear madame. There was only one story, and I am telling it as it happened. Othens turned to her uncle. He sat silent with his arms folded, and his head remained in the shadow cast by the lampshade. Why had he not protested? Renan repeated in a firm tone. There is only one story. On the evening of that very day, the 5th of September at eight o'clock, Mr. Deglerosh, doubtless alleging as his reason that he was going in pursuit of the runaway couple, left his house after boarding up the entrance.

He went away, leaving all the rooms as they were, and removing only the firearms from their glass case. At the last minute he had a presentment, which has been justified today, that the The discovery of the telescope which had played so great a part in the preparation of his crime might serve as a clue to an inquiry, and he threw it into the clock-case, where, as luck would have it, it interrupted the swing of the pendulum. This unreflecting action, one of those which every criminal inevitably commits, was to betray him twenty years later. Just now the blows which I struck to force the door of the drawing-room released the pendulum. The clock was set going, struck eight o'clock, and I possessed the clue of thread which was to lead me through the

labyrinth. Proofs! stammered Ortenes. Proofs! Proofs? replied Rennin in a loud voice. Why, there are any number of proofs, and you know them as well as I do. Who could have killed at that distance of eight hundred yards, except an expert shot, an ardent sportsman? You agree, Monsieur Deglerosh, do you not?

Proofs? Why, was nothing removed from the house? house, nothing except the guns, those guns which an ardent sportsman cannot afford to leave behind. You agree, Monsieur Deglerosh, those guns which we find here hanging in trophies on the walls. Proofs? What about that date, the 5th of September, which was the date of the crime, and which has left such a horrible memory in the criminal's mind that every year at this time, at this time alone, he surrounds himself with distractions, and that every year, on this same 5th of September, gets his habits of temperance. Well, today is the 5th of September. Proofs? Why, if there weren't

any others, would that not be enough for you? And Renin, flinging out his arm, pointed to the Count de Glerosch, who, terrified by this evocation of the past, had sunk, huddled into a chair, and was hiding his head in his hands. Ortenes did not attempt to argue with him. She had never liked her uncle, or rather her husband's uncle. She now accepted the accusation laid against him. Sixty seconds passed. Then, M. Deglerosh walked up to them and said, Whether the story be true or not, you can't call a husband a criminal for avenging his honor and killing his faithless wife. No, replied Rennin, but I have told only the first version of the story. There is another which is infinitely more serious and more probable,

one to which a more thorough investigation would be sure to lead. What do you mean? I mean this. It may not be a matter of a husband taking the law into his own hands, as I charitably supposed. It may be a matter of a ruined man who covets his friend's money and his friend's wife, and who, with this object in view,

to secure his freedom, to get rid of his friend and of his own wife, draws them into a trap, suggest to them that they should visit that lonely tower and kills them by shooting them from a distance safely under cover no no the count protested no all that is untrue i don't say it isn't i am basing my accusation on proofs but also on intuitions and arguments which up to now have been extremely accurate all the same i admit that the second version may be incorrect but if so why feel any mores One does not feel remorse for punishing guilty people. One does for taking life. It is a crushing burden to bear.

Was it to give himself greater strength to bear this burden that Mr. Deglerosch afterwards married his victim's widow? For that, sir, is the crux of the question. What was the motive of that marriage? Was Mr. Deglerosch penniless? Was the woman he was taking as his second wife rich? Or were they both in love with each other, and did M. Deglerosh plan with her to kill?

his first wife and the husband of his second wife. These are problems to which I do not know the answer. They have no interest for the moment, but the police, with all the means of their disposal, would have no great difficulty in elucidating them. Mr. Deglerosh staggered and had to steady himself against the back of a chair. Livid in the face, he spluttered. Are you going to inform the police? No, no, said Rennie.

In, to begin with, there is the statute of limitations, then there are twenty years of remorse and dread, a memory which will pursue the criminal to his dying hour, accompanied no doubt by domestic discord, hatred, a daily hell, and, in the end, the necessity of returning to the tower and removing the traces of the two murders, the frightful punishment of climbing that tower, of touching those skeletons, of undressing them and burying them. That will be enough. we will not ask for more we will not give it to the public to batten on and create a scandal which would recoil upon m de glouche's niece no let us leave this disgraceful business alone The Count resumed his seat at the table, with his hands clutching his forehead, and asked, Then, why?

Why do I interfere? said Renin. What you mean is that I must have had some object in speaking. That is so. There must be indeed a penalty, however slight, and our interview must lead to some practical results. But have no fear. Mr. Degleros will be let off lightly. The contest was ended.

The Count felt that he had only a small formality to fulfill, a sacrifice to accept, and recovering some of his self-assurance, he said in an almost sarcastic tone. What's your price? Renin burst out laughing. Splendid! You see the position. Only you make a mistake in drawing me into the business. I'm working for the glory of the thing. In that case. You will be called upon at most to make restitution.

Restitution? Rennin leaned over the table and said, In one of those drawers is a deed awaiting your signature. It is a draft agreement between you and your niece, Orten's Daniel, relating to her private fortune which fortune was squandered and for which you are responsible. Sign the deed. Mr. Deglerosh gave a start.

Do you know the amount? i don't wish to know it and if i refused i shall ask to see the countess de glouache without further hesitation the count opened a drawer produced a document on stamped paper and quickly signed it here you are he said and i hope you hope as i do that you and i may never have any future dealings i am convinced of it i shall leave this evening your niece no doubt to-morrow good-bye In the drawing-room, which was still empty, while the guests at the house were dressing for dinner, Renin handed the deed to Ortenes. She seemed dazed by all that she had heard, and the thing that bewildered her even more than the relentless light shed upon her uncle's past was the miraculous insight and amazing lucidity displayed by this man, the man who for some hours had controlled events and conjured up before her eyes the actual scenes of a tragedy which no one had beheld. Are you satisfied with me, he asked?

She gave him both her hands. You have saved me from Ruzigny. You have given me back my freedom and my independence. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Oh, that's not what I'm asking you to say, he answered. My first and main object was to amuse you. Your life seemed so humdrum and lacking in the unexpected, as it been so today.

How can you ask such a question? I have had the strangest and most stirring experiences. That is life, he said, when one knows how to use one's eyes. Adventure exists everywhere in the meanest hovel under the mask of the wisest of men. Everywhere, if you are only willing, you will find an excuse for excitement, for doing good, for saving a victim, for ending an injustice. impressed by his power and authority, she murmured. Who are you exactly? An adventurer, nothing more, a lover of adventures. Life is not worth living except in moments of adventure,

the adventures of others or personal adventures. Today's has upset you because it affected the innermost depths of your being, but those of others are no less stimulating. Would you like to make the experiment? How? Become the companion of my mind. adventures. If anyone calls on me for help, help him with me. If chance or instinct puts me on the track of a crime or the trace of a sorrow, let us both set out together. Do you consent?

Yes, she said, but she hesitated, as though trying to guess Rinin's secret intentions. But, he said, expressing her thoughts for her with a smile, you are a trifle, skeptical. What you are saying to yourself is, How far does that lover of adventures want to make me go? It is quite obvious that I attract him, and sooner or later he would not be sorry to receive payment for his services. You are quite right. You must have a formal contract.

Very formal, said Ortenes, preferring to give a jesting tone to the conversation. Let me hear your proposals. He reflected for a moment and continued. Well, we'll say this. The clock at Alang gave eight strokes this afternoon, the day of the first adventure. Will you accept its decree and agree to carry out seven more of these delightful enterprises with me, during a period, for instance, of three months? And shall we say that, at the eighth, you will be pledged to grant me—

What? He deferred his answer. Observe that you will always be at liberty to leave me on the road if I do not succeed in interesting you, but if you accompany me to the end if you allow me to begin and complete the eighth enterprise with you in three months on the fifth of december at the very moment when the eighth stroke of that clock sounds and it will sound you may be sure of that for the old brass pendulum will not stop swinging again you will be pledged to grant me what she repeated a little unnerved by waiting he was silent he looked at the beautiful lips which he had meant to claim as his reward. He felt perfectly certain that Ortence had understood, and he thought it unnecessary to speak more plainly.

The mere delight of seeing you will be enough to satisfy me. It is not for me but for you to impose conditions. Name them. What do you demand? She was grateful for his respect and said, laughingly, What do I demand? Yes. Can I demand anything I like, however difficult and

impossible. Everything is easy, and everything is possible to the man who is bent on winning you. Then she said, I demand that you shall restore to me a small, antique class, made of a Cornelian set in a silver mount. It came to me from my mother, and everyone knew that it used to bring her happiness, and me, too. Since the day when it vanished from my jewel case, I have had nothing but unhappiness. Restore it to me, my good genius. When was the clasp stolen? She answered gaily, Seven years ago, or eight, or nine.

I don't know exactly. I don't know where, I don't know how, I know nothing about it. I will find it, Rennin declared, and you shall be happy. End of chapter one. Chapter two of the eight strokes of the clock. This Slibervox recording is in the public domain. Eight strokes of the clock by Maurice Leblanc. Chapter 2.

The Water Bottle Four days after she had settled down in Paris, Ortens Daniel agreed to meet Prince Renin in the Bois. It was a glorious morning, and they sat down on the terrace of the restaurant imperial, a little to one side. Orten's, feeling glad to be alive, was in a playful mood, full of attractive grace.

Renin, lest he should startle her, her, refrained from alluding to the compact into which they had entered at his suggestion. She told him how she had left La Marese and said that she had not heard of Rassigny. I have, said Rennin. I've heard of him. Oh, yes, he sent me a challenge. We fought a duel this morning. Rizigny got a scratch in the shoulder. That finished the duel. Let's talk of something else. There was no further mention of Rizignin.

Renin at once expounded to Orten's the plan of two enterprises which he had in view and which he offered with no great enthusiasm to let her share. The first adventure, he declared, is that which we do not foresee. It comes unexpectedly, unannounced, and no one, save the initiated, realizes that an opportunity to act and to expend one's energies is close at hand. It has to be seized at once. A moment's hesitation. may mean that we are too late. We are warned by a special sense, like that of a sleuth-hound, which distinguishes the right scent from all the others that cross it. The terrace was beginning to fill up around them. At the next table sat a young man reading a newspaper. They were able to see his insignificant profile and his long, dark mustache. From behind them, through an open window of the restaurant, came the distinct strains of a band. In one of the rooms a few couples were dancing. As Renin was paying for the refreshments, the young man with the long mustache

stifled a cry, and in a choking voice called one of the waiters. What do I owe you? No change? Oh, good lord, hurry up! Renin, without a moment's hesitation, had picked up the paper. After casting a swift glance down the page, he read, under his breath, Maitre Dordin, the counsel for the defense in the trial of Jacques O'Briieu has been received at the Alisei. We are informed that the President of the Republic has refused to reprieve the condemned man, and that the execution will take place tomorrow morning. After crossing the terrace, the young man found himself faced at the entrance to the garden by a lady and gentleman who blocked his way, and the latter said,

Excuse me, sir, but I noticed your agitation. It's about Jacques O'Briue, isn't it? yes yes jock obriere the young man stammered jacques the friend of my childhood i'm hurrying to see his wife she must be beside herself with grief can i offer you my assistance i am prince renin this lady and i would be happy to call on madame obriieu and to place our services at her disposal the young man upset by the news which he had read seemed not to understand. He introduced himself awkwardly. My name is Dutreux, Gaston Dutreille. Renan beckoned to his chauffeur, who was waiting at some little distance, and pushed Gaston Dutreux into the car, asking, what address? Where does Madame Obrieu live? Twenty-three Bizz Avenue de Roule. After helping Ortenes in, Renin repeated the address to the chauffeur, and as soon as they drove off, tried to question the question.

questioned Gaston de Treuay. I know very little of the case, he said. Tell it to me as briefly as you can. Jacques Obriieu killed one of his near relations, didn't he? He is innocent, sir, replied the young man, who seemed incapable of giving the least explanation. Innocent, I swear it. I've been Jacques's friend for twenty years.

He is innocent, and it would be monstrous. There was nothing to be got out of him. Besides, it was only a short, drive. They entered Nuii through the Port de Sablons, and two minutes later stopped before a long, narrow passage between high walls, which led them to a small, one-storied house. Gaston Dutre rang. Madame is in the drawing-room with her mother, said the maid who opened the door. I'll go into the ladies, he said, taking Renin and Ortenes with him. It was a fair-sized, prettily furnished room, which, in ordinary times, must have been used also as a

study. Two women sat weeping, one of whom, elderly and gray-haired, came up to Gaston Dutre. He explained the reason for Renin's presence, and she at once cried amid her sobs. My daughter's husband is innocent, sir. Jacques? A better man never lived. He was so good-hearted. Murder his cousin, but he worshipped his cousin. I swear that he's not guilty, sir. And they're going to commit the infamy of putting him to death? Oh, sir, it's a good-hearted. oh sir it will kill my daughter renan realized that all these people had been living for months under the obsession of that innocence and in the certainty that an innocent man could never be executed the news of the execution which was now inevitable was driving them mad he went up to a poor creature bent in two whose face a quite young face framed in pretty flaxen hair was convulsed with desperate grief ortense who had already taken a seat beside her gently drew her head against her shoulder renin said to her madame i do not know what i can do for you but i give you my word of honor that if any one in this world can be of use to you it is myself i therefore implore you to answer my question

as though the clear and definite wording of your replies were able to alter the aspect of things, and as though you wished to make me share your opinion of Jacques O'Briieu, for he is innocent, is he not? Oh, sir, indeed he is! she exclaimed, and the woman's whole soul was in the words. You are certain of it, but you were unable to communicate your certainty to the court. Well, you must now compel me to share it. I am not asking you to go into details, and to you are certain. to live again through the hideous torment which you have suffered,

but merely to answer certain questions. Will you do this? I will. Renin's influence over her was complete. With a few sentences, Renin had succeeded in subduing her and inspiring her with the will to obey, and once more Ortenes realized all the man's power, authority, and persuasion. What was your husband, he asked,

after begging the mother in Gaston-Dutre to preserve absolute silence. An insurance broker. Lucky in business? Until last year, yes. So there have been financial difficulties during the past few months. Yes. And the murder was committed when? Last March, on a Sunday.

Who was the victim? A distant cousin, Monsieur Guillaume, who lived at Surin. What was the sum, stolen. Sixty thousand franc notes, which this cousin had received the day before, in payment of a long outstanding debt. Did your husband know that? Yes, his cousin told him of it on the Sunday in the course of a conversation on the telephone, and Jacques insisted that his cousin ought not to keep so large a sum in the house, and that he ought to pay it into a bank next day. Was this in the morning? At one o'clock in the afternoon, Jacques was to have gone to.

to Mr. Guillaume on his motorcycle, but he felt tired and told him that he would not go out, so he remained here all day. Alone? Yes, the two servants were out. I went to the Cinema de Tern with my mother and our friend, Dutre. In the evening we learned that Mr. Guillaume had been murdered. Next morning Jacques was arrested. On what evidence?

The poor creature hesitated to reply. The evidence of guilt had evidently been overwhelming. Then, obeying a sign from Renin, she answered without a pause. The murderer went to Soren on a motorcycle. The tracks discovered were those of my husband's machine. They found a handkerchief with my husband's initials, and the revolver which was used belonged to him. Lastly, one of our neighbours maintains that she saw my husband go out on his bicycle at three o'clock,

and another that he saw him come in at half-past four. The murder was committed at four o'clock. and what does jacobrius say in his defence he declares that he slept all the afternoon during that time someone came who managed to unlock the cycle shed and take the motorcycle to go to syren as for the handkerchief and the revolver they were in the tool-bag there would be nothing surprising in the murderers using them it seems a plausible explanation yes but the prosecution raised two objections in the first place nobody absolutely nobody knew that my husband was going to stay at home all day, because on the contrary, it was his habit to go out on his motorcycle every Sunday afternoon. And the second objection? She flushed and murmured. The murderer went to the pantry at Mr. Giams and drank half a bottle of wine straight out of the bottle which shows my husband's fingerprints. It seemed as though

her strength was exhausted, and as though at the same time the unconscious hope was, which renin's intervention had awakened in her had suddenly vanished before the accumulation of adverse facts again she collapsed withdrawn into a sort of silent meditation from which ortens's affectionate attentions were unable to distract her the mother stammered he's not guilty is he sir and they can't punish an innocent man they haven't the right to kill my daughter oh dear Oh, dear, what have we done to be tortured like this? My poor little Madeline! She will kill herself, said Dutreux, in a scared voice. She will never be able to endure the idea that they are guillotying Jacques. She will kill herself presently, this very night.

Renin was striding up and down the room. You can do nothing for her, can you? asked Ortenes. It's half-past eleven now, he replied. in an anxious tone, and it's to happen to-morrow morning. Do you think he's guilty? I don't know. I don't know. The poor woman's conviction is too impressive to be neglected.

When two people have lived together for years, they can hardly be mistaken about each other to that degree. And yet... He stretched himself out on a sofa and lit a cigarette. He smoked three in succession, without a word from anyone to interrupt his train of thought. From time to time he looked at his watch. Every minute was of such importance.

At last he went back to Madeline au Brioux, took her hands and said, very gently, You must not kill yourself. There is hope left until the last minute has come, and I promise you that, for my part, I will not be disheartened until that last minute, but I need your calmness and your confidence. I will be calm,

she said with a pitiable air, and confident and confident well wait for me i shall be back in two hours from now will you come with us m dutreux as they were stepping into his car he asked the young man do you know any small unfrequented restaurant not too far inside paris there's the brasserie loutitia on the ground floor of the house in which i live on the place de term capital that will be very handy They scarcely spoke on the way. Renin, however, said to Gaston de Tray, So far as I remember, the numbers of the notes are known, aren't they? Yes, Monsieur Guillaume had entered the sixty numbers in his pocket-book. Renin muttered a moment later.

That's where the whole problem lies. Where are the notes? If we could lay our hands on them, we should know everything. At the Brasery de Tisha, there was a telephone in the private room where he asked to have lunch served. When the waiter had left him alone with Ortenes in Detroit, he took down the receiver with a resolute air. Hello, prefecture of police, please. Hello? Hello? Is that the prefecture of police?

Please put me on to the criminal investigation department. I have a very important communication to make. You can say it's Prince Renin. Holding the receiver in his hand, he turned to Gaston-Dutre. I can ask someone to come here, I suppose. we shall be quite undisturbed. Quite. He listened again.

The secretary to the head of the criminal investigation department. Oh, excellent. Mr. Secretary, I have on several occasions been in communication with Monsieur Du Du Bois, and have given him information which has been of great use to him. He is sure to remember Prince Renin. I may be able today to show him where the sixty thousand franc notes are hidden which Obriieu the murderer stole from his cousin. If he's interested in the proposal,

beg him to send an inspector to the Brasserie de Tisha, Place de Tern, I shall be there with a lady and Monsieur Dutreux, Obreu's friend. Good day, Mr. Secretary. When Renin hung up the instrument, he saw the amazed faces of Ortenes and of Gaston Dutreux confronting him.

Ortenes whispered, You know, you've discovered? Nothing, he said, laughing. Well, I'm acting as though I knew. It's not a bad method. Let's have some luck, shall we? The clock marked a quarter to one. The man from the prefecture will be here, he said, in twenty minutes at latest. And if no one comes, Ortenes objected. That would surprise me. Of course, if I had sent a message to Monsieur Duduie saying, Obriieu is innocent, I should have failed to make any impression. It's not the least use on the eve of an execution to

attempt to convince the gentry of the police or of the law that a man condemned to death is innocent. No, from henceforth, Jacques-Obrieu belongs to the executioner. But the prospect of securing the sixty bank-notes is a windfall worth taking a little trouble over. Just think that was the weak point in the indictment, those sixty notes which they were unable to trace. But as you know nothing of their whereabouts, my dear girl, I hope you don't mind my calling you so. My dear girl, when a man can't explain this or that physical phenomenon, you adopt some sort of theory which explains the various manifestations of the phenomenon and says that everything happened as though the theory were correct. That's what I am doing. That amounts to saying that you

are going upon a supposition. Renin did not reply. Not until some time later, when lunch was over, did he say, obviously I am going upon a supposition. If I had several days before, for me I should take the trouble of first verifying my theory, which is based upon intuition, quite as much as upon a few scattered facts. But I have only two hours, and I am embarking on the unknown path, as though I were certain that it would lead me to the truth. And suppose you are wrong? I have no choice. Besides, it is too late. There's a knock. Oh, one word more. Whatever I may say, don't contradict me, nor you, Mr. Dutre. He opened the door, a thin man with a red imperial entered.

Prince Rinin? Yes, sir. You, of course, are from Mr. Dudui. Yes, and the newcomer gave his name, Chief Inspector of Morissot. I'm obliged to you for coming so promptly, Mr. Chief Inspector, said Prince Rinin, and I hope that Mr. Dudui will not regret

having placed you at my disposal. At your entire disposal, in addition to two inspectors whom I have left in the square outside, and to have been in the case with me from the first. I shall not detain you for any length of time, said Rinin, and I will not even ask you to sit down. We have only a few minutes in which to settle everything. You know what it's all about.

The sixty thousand franc notes stolen from Mr. Guillaume, I have the numbers here. Rinin ran his eyes down the slip of paper, which the chief inspector handed him and said, That's right, the two lists agree. Inspector Marisot seemed greatly excited. The chief attaches the greatest importance to your discovery, so you will be able to show me.

Renin was silent for a moment and then declared, Mr. Chief Inspector, a personal investigation, and a most exhaustive investigation it was, as I will explain to you presently, has revealed the fact that, on his return from Surin, the murderer, after replacing the motorcycle in the shed in the Avenue du Roule, ran to the town and entered this house. This house?

Yes. But what did he come here for? Two had the proceeds of his theft, the sixty banknotes. How do you mean? Where? In a flat of which he had the key on the fifth floor. Gaston de Tray exclaimed in amazement, but there's only one flat on the fifth floor,

and that's the one I live in. Exactly, and as you were at the same, cinema with Madame Obriieu and her mother. Advantage was taken of your absence. Impossible! No one has the key except myself. One can get in without a key. But I have seen no marks of any kind. Marisot intervened. Come, let us understand one another. You say the bank-notes were hidden in Monsieur Dutroix's flat. Yes. Then as Jacques-Obrier was arrested the next morning, the notes ought to be there still. that's my opinion gaston d'reux could not help laughing but that's absurd i should have found them did you look for them no but i should have come across them at any moment the place isn't big enough to swing a cat in would you care to see it

however small it may be it's large enough to hold sixty bits of paper of course everything is possible said dutreys still i must repeat that nobody to my knowledge has been to my rooms that there is only one key that i am my own housekeeper and that i can't quite understand ortenes too could not understand with her eyes fixed on prince renin's she was trying to read his innermost thoughts what game was he playing was it her duty to support his statements she ended by saying mr chief inspector since prince renin maintains that the notes had been put away upstairs wouldn't the simplest thing be to go and look m dutre will take us up won't you this minute said the young man as you say that will be simplest They all four climbed the five stories of the house, and after Dutreux had opened the door, entered a tiny set of chambers consisting of a sitting-room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, all arranged with fastidious neatness. It was easy to see that every chair in the sitting-room occupied a definite place. The pipes had a rack to themselves, so had the matches.

Three walking-sticks, arranged according to their length, hung from three nails. on a little table before the window a hat box filled with tissue paper awaited the felt hat which dutre carefully placed in it he laid his gloves beside it on the lid he did all this with sedate and mechanical movements like a man who loves to see things in the places which he has chosen for them indeed no sooner did renin shift something than dutre made a slight gesture of protest took out his hat again stuck it on his head opened the window and rested his elbows on the sill, with his back turned to the room, as though he were unable to bear the sight of such vandalism. You're positive, are you not? The inspector asked Crenin. Yes, yes, I'm positive that the sixty notes were brought here after the murder. Let's look for them.

This was easy and soon done. In half an hour not a corner remained unexplored, not a knick-knack unlifted. Nothing, said Inspector Mariso. Shall we continue? No, replied Renin, the notes are no longer here. What do you mean? I mean that they have been removed. By whom?

Can't you make a more definite accusation? Renin did not reply, but Gaston de Tray wheeled round. He was choking and spluttered. Mr. Inspector, would you like me to make the accusation more definite, as conveyed by this gentleman's remarks? It all means that there's a dishonest man here. here, that the notes hidden by the murderer were discovered and stolen by that dishonest man, and deposited in another and safer place. That is your idea, sir, is it not? And you accuse

me of committing this theft, don't you? He came forward, drumming his chest with his fists. Me! Me! I found the notes, did I, and kept them for myself. You dare to suggest that. Renin still made no reply. Dutre flew into a rage, and, taking a Inspector Morissau aside, exclaimed, Mr. Inspector, I strongly protest against all this farce, and against the part which you are unconsciously playing in it. Before your arrival, Prince Renin told this lady and myself that he knew nothing, that he was venturing into this affair at random,

and that he was following the first road that offered, trusting to luck. Do you deny it, sir? Rennin did not open his lips. Answer me, will you? Explain yourself. For really you are putting forward the first. most improbable facts without any proof whatever it's easy enough to say that i stole the notes and how are you to know that they were here at all who brought them here why should the murderer choose this flat to hide them in it's all so stupid so illogical and absurd give us your proof sir one single proof inspector morissot seemed perplexed he questioned renin with a glance renin said since you want specific details we will

them from Madame Obriere herself. She's on the telephone. Let's go downstairs. We shall know all about it in a minute. Lytre shrugged his shoulders. As you please, but what a waste of time. He seemed greatly irritated. His long wait at the window, under a blazing sun, had thrown him into a sweat. He went to his bedroom and returned with a bottle of water, of which he took a few sips, afterwards placing the bottle on the window-sill. Come along, he said. Prince Renin chuckled. Ha, ha, ha, he seemed to be in a hurry to leave the place.

I'm in a hurry to show you up, retorted Dutre, slamming the door. They went downstairs to the private room containing the telephone. The room was empty. Renin asked Gaston Dutre for the obriouche's number, took down the instrument, and was put through. The maid who came to the telephone answered that Madame Aubriieu had fainted after giving way to an excess of despair and that she was now asleep. Fetch her mother, please. Prince Renin speaking. It's urgent. He handed the second receiver to Morissau. For that matter the voices were so distinct that Dutrella Nortens were able to hear every word exchanged.

Is that you, madame? Yes, Prince Renin, I believe. Prince Renin. "'Oh, sir, what news have you for me? Is there any hope?' asked the old lady, in a tone of entreaty. "'The inquiry is proceeding very satisfactorily,' said Rennin, and you may hope for the best. For the moment I want you to give me some very important particulars. On the day of the murder, did Gaston Dutre come to your house?' "'Yes, he came to fetch my daughter and myself after lunch. Did he know at the time that Monsieur Guillaume had sixty thousand francs at his place?' Yes, I told him, and that Jacques O'Briere was not feeling very well, and was proposing not to take his usual cycle ride, but to stay at home and sleeve.

Yes? You are sure? Absolutely certain. And you all three went to the cinema together. Yes, and you are all sitting together. Oh, no, there was no room. He took a seat farther away. A seat where you could see him.

No? but he came to you during the interval no we did not see him until we were going out there is no doubt of that none at all very well madame i will tell you the result of my efforts in an hour's time but above all don't wake up madame and suppose she wakes of her own accord reassure her and give her confidence everything is going well very well indeed he hung up the receiver and turned to dutroy last but he hung up the receiver and turned to dutrouis last laughing. "'Ha, ha, my boy, things are beginning to look clearer. What do you say?' It was difficult to tell what these words meant, or what conclusions Renin had drawn from his conversation. The silence was painful and oppressive. "'Mr. Chief Inspector, you have some of your men outside, haven't you?' "'Two detective sergeants. It's important they should be there. Please also ask the

manager not to disturb us on any account. And when Morissot returned, Renin closed the door, took his stand in front of Dutre, and speaking in a good-humored but emphatic tone, said, It amounts to this young man, that the lady saw nothing of you between three and five o'clock on that Sunday. That's rather a curious detail. A perfectly natural detail, Dutre retorted, and one, moreover, which proves nothing at all. It proves. It proves. young man that you had a good two hours at your disposal obviously two hours which I spent at the cinema or somewhere else you try looked at him somewhere else yes as you were free you had plenty of time to go wherever you liked to Surin for instance oh said the young man jesting in his turn Surin is a long way off it's quite close hadn't you your friend Jacques-Obrillo's motorcycle.

A fresh pause followed these words. Dutreux had knitted his brows as though he were trying to understand. At last he was heard to whisper, So that is what he was trying to lead up to. The brute! Renan brought down his hand on Dutre's shoulder. No more talk.

Facts. Gaston Dutre, you are the only person who on that day knew two essential things. first that cousin giom had sixty thousand francs in his house secondly that jacques au brier was not going out you at once saw your chance the motorcycle was available you slipped out during the performance you went to you killed cousin giome you took the sixty bank-notes and left them at your rooms and at five o'clock you went back to fetch the ladies dutre had listened with an expression at once mocking and flurried casting an occasional glance at inspector as though to enlist him as a witness. The man's mad, it seemed to say. It's no use being angry with him.

When Renin had finished, he began to laugh. Very funny. A capital joke. So it was I whom the neighbour saw going and returning on the motorcycle. It was you disguised in Jacques-Obril's clothes. And it was my fingerprints that were found on the bottle in Monsieur Guillaume's pantry. The bottle had been opened by Jacques-Briieu at lunch in his own house, and it was you who took it with you to serve as evidence.

Funnier and funnier, cried Dutre, who had the air of being frankly amused. Then I contrived the whole affair so that Jacques-Briue might be accused of the crime. It was the safest means of not being accused yourself. Yes, but Jacques is a friend whom I have known from childhood. You're in love with his wife. The young man gave a sudden, infuriated start. You dare! What?

You dare make such an infamous suggestion. I have proof of it. That's a lie. I have always respected Madeline Aubriieu and revered her. Apparently, but you were in love with her. You desire her. Don't contradict me. I have abundant proof of it.

That's a lie, I tell you. you, you have only known me a few hours. Come, come, I've been quietly watching you for days, waiting for the moment to pounce upon you. He took the young man by the shoulders and shook him. Come, Dutre, confess. I hold all the proofs in my hand. I have witnesses whom we shall meet presently at the criminal investigation department. Confess, can't you?

In spite of everything, you're tortured by remorse. Remember your dismay at the restaurant when you had seen the newspaper. paper what jacques au breu condemned to die that's more than you bargained for penal servitude would have suited your book but the scaffold jacques obriieu executed to-morrow an innocent man confess won't you confess to save your own skin own up bending over the other he was trying with all his might to extort a confession from him but dutre drew himself up and coldly with a sort of scorn in his voice said sir you are a madman not a word that you have said has any sense in it all your accusations are false what about the bank-notes did you find them at my place as you said you would renin exasperated clenched his fist in his face oh you swine i'll dish you yet i swear i will he drew the inspector aside well what do you say to it an errant rogue isn't he the inspector nodded his head it may be but all the same so far there's no real evidence wait m morissot said renin wait until we've had our interview with m dudouy where we shall see m du du du du du duet at the prefecture shall we not yes he'll be there at three o'clock well you'll be convinced mr inspector i tell you here and now that you will be convinced renin was chuckling like a man who feels certain of the course of events ortenes who was standing nearer's

him and was able to speak to him without being heard by the others asked in a low voice you've got him haven't you he nodded his head in assent got him i should think i have all the same i'm no farther forward than i was at the beginning but this is awful and your proofs not the shadow of a proof i was hoping to trip him up but he's kept his feet the rascal still you're certain it's he it can't be anyone else i had an intuition at the very outset, and I've not taken my eyes off him since. I have seen his anxiety increasing as my investigation seemed to center on him and concern him more closely. Now I know. And he's in love with Madame Obriieu? In logic he's bound to be. But so far we have only hypothetical suppositions, or rather certainties which are personal to myself. We shall never intercept the guillotine with those. If we could only find the bank-notes, given the bank-notes m doudouille would act without them he will laugh in my face what then murmured ortens in anguished accents he did not reply he walked up and down the room assuming an air of gaiety and rubbing his hands

all was going so well it was really a treat to take up a case which so to speak worked itself out automatically suppose we went on to the prefecture m marisot the chief must be there by now-ioux and-you-mars. and having gone so far we may as well finish will m dutre come with us why not said dutre arrogantly but just as renan was opening the door there was a noise in the passage and the manager ran up waving his arms is m dutre still here m dutre your flat is on fire a man outside told us he saw it from the square the young man's eyes lit up for perhaps half a second his mouth was twisted by a smile which renin noticed oh you ruffian he cried you've given yourself away my beauty it was you who set fire to the place upstairs and now the notes are burning he blocked his exit let me pass shouted dutre there's a fire and no one can get in because no one else has a key here it is let me pass damn it renn snatched the key from his hand and holding him by the collar of his coat don't you move my fine fellow the game's up precious blackguard mr morissot will you give orders to the sergeant not to let him out of his sight and to blow out his brains if he tries to get away sergeant we rely on you but a bullet into him if necessary. He hurried up the stairs, followed by Oortens and the chief inspector, who was protesting rather peevishly. But I say, look here, it wasn't he who set the place on fire.

How do you make out that he set it on fire, seeing that he never left us? Why, he set it on fire beforehand, to be sure. How? I ask you how. How do I know? But a fire doesn't break out like that, for no reason at all. At the very moment when a man, man wants to burn compromising papers. They heard a commotion upstairs. It was the waiters of the restaurant, trying to burst the door open. An acrid smell filled the well of the staircase. Renin reached the top floor.

By your leave, friends. I have the key. He inserted it in the lock and opened the door. He was met by a gust of smoke so dense that one might well have supposed the whole floor to be ablaze. Renin at once saw that the fire had gone out of its own cord for lack of fuel and that there were no more flames. Mr. Morissot, you won't let anyone come in with us, will you?

An intruder might spoil everything. Bolt the door, that will be best. He stepped into the front room, where the fire had obviously had its chief center. The furniture, the walls, and the ceiling, though blackened by the smoke, had not been touched. As a matter of fact, the fire was confined to a blaze of papers which was still burning in the middle of the room in front of the window. Rennin struck his forehead.

What a fool I am! What an unspeakable ass! Why? asked the inspector. The hat-box, of course, the cardboard hat-box, which was standing on the table. That's where he hid the notes. They were there all through our search. Impossible! Why, yes, we always overlooked that particular hiding-place,

the one just under our eyes, within reach of our hands. How could one imagine that a thief? would leave sixty thousand francs in an open cardboard box in which he places his hat when he comes in with an absent-minded air that's just the one place we don't look in well played m dutreux the inspector who remained incredulous repeated no no impossible we were with him and he could not have started the fire himself everything was prepared beforehand on the supposition that there might be an alarm the hat-box the tissue paper the bank-notes They must all have been steeped in some inflammable liquid. He must have thrown a match, a chemical preparation, or whatnot, into it, as we were leaving. But we should have seen him hang at all. And then is it credible that a man who has committed a murder for the sake of sixty thousand francs

should do away with the money in this way? If the hiding-place was such a good one, and it was because we never discovered it, why this useless destruction? He got frightened, Mr. Morisot, remembered that his head is at stake, and he knows it. anything rather than the guillotine and they the bank-notes were the only proof which we had against him how could he have left them where they were marisot was flabbergasted what the only proof why obviously but your witnesses your evidence all that you were going to tell the chief mere bluff well upon my word growled the bewildered inspector you're a cool customer Would you have taken action without my bluff? No.

Then what more do you want? Rennin stooped to stir the ashes, but there was nothing left, not even those remnants of stiff paper which still retain their shape. Nothing, he said. It's queer all the same. How the deuce did he manage to set the thing alight? He stood up, looking attentively about him.

Ochtens had a feeling that he was making his supreme effort, and that after this last struggle in the dark he would either have devised his plan of victory or admit that he was beaten faltering with anxiety she asked it's all up isn't it no no he said thoughtfully it's not all up it was a few seconds ago but now there is a gleam of light and one that gives me hope god grant that it may be justified you must go slowly he said it is only an attempt but a fine a very fine attempt and it may succeed he was silent for a moment then with an amused smile and a click of the tongue he said an infernally clever fellow that dutre his trick of burning the notes what a fertile imagination and what coolness a pretty dance the beggar has led me he's a master he fetched a broom from the kitchen and swept a part of the ashes into the next room returning with a hat-box of the same size and appearance as the one which had been burnt after crumpling the tissue paper with which it was filled he placed the hat-box on the little table and set fire to it with a match it burst into flames which he extinguished when they had consumed half the cardboard and nearly all the paper then he took from an inner pocket of his waistcoat a bundle of bank-notes and selected six which he burnt all the almost completely, arranging the remains and hiding the rest of the notes at the bottom of the box

among the ashes and the blackened bits of paper. "'Monsieur,' he said when he had done, "'I am asking for your assistance for the last time. "'Go and fetched Stutre. Tell him just this. You are unmasked. The notes did not catch fire. Come with me, and bring him up here.' Despite his hesitation and his fear of exceeding his instructions from the head of the detective service, the chief inspector was powerless to throw off the ascendancy which Renin had acquired over him. He left the room. Renin turned to Hortens. Do you understand my plan of battle?

Yes, she said, but it's a dangerous experiment. Do you think that Dutre will fall into the trap? Everything depends on the state of his nerves and the degree of demoralization to which he is reduced. A surprise attack may very well do for him. Nevertheless, suppose, he recognizes by some sign that the box has been changed. Of course he has a few chances in his favour. The fellow is much more cunning than I thought, and quite capable of wriggling out of the trap. On the other hand, however, how uneasy he must be, how the blood must be buzzing in his ears and obscuring his sight. No, I don't think that he will avoid the trap. He will give in. He will give in. They exchanged no more words. Renin did not move. Ortenes will

was stirred to the very depths of her being. The life of an innocent man hung trembling in the balance. An error of judgment, a little bad luck, and twelve hours later, Jacques-Obriere would be put to death. And together with a horrible anguish, she experienced, in spite of all, a feeling of eager curiosity. What was Prince Rignan going to do? What would be the outcome of the experiment on which he was venturing? What resistance would Gaston-Dutroix offer? She lived through one of those minutes of superhuman tension in which life becomes intensified until it reaches its utmost value. They heard footsteps on the stairs, the footsteps of men in a hurry. The sound drew nearer. They were reaching the top floor. Ortenes looked at her companion, yet stood up and was listening,

his features already transfigured by action. The footsteps were now echoing in the passage. Then, suddenly, he ran to the door and cried, quick, let's make an end of it. Two or three detectives and a couple of waiters entered. He caught hold of Dutreux in the midst of the detectives, and pulled him by the arm, gaily exclaiming, Well done, old man. That trick of yours with the table and the water-bottle was really splendid.

A masterpiece on my word. Only, it didn't come off. What do you mean? What's the matter? Mumbled Gaston Dutreux, staggering. What I see? Say, the fire burnt only half the tissue paper in the hat-box. And though some of the bank-notes were destroyed, like the tissue paper, the others are there at the bottom.

You understand? The long-sought notes, the great proof of the murder. They're there, where you hid them. His chance would have it, they've escaped burning. Here, look, there are the numbers. You can check them. Oh, you're done for. Done for, my beauty!

The young man drew himself up stiffly. his eyelids quivered. He did not accept Renin's invitation to look. He examined neither the hat-box nor the bank-notes. From the first moment without taking the time to reflect and before his instinct could warn him, he believed what he was told and collapsed heavily into a chair weeping. The surprise attack, to use Renin's expression, had succeeded. On seeing all his plans baffled and the enemy master of his secrets, the wretched man had neither the strength nor the perspicuous. Cassidy necessary to defend himself. He threw up the sponge. Renin gave him no time to breathe. Capital. You're saving your head, and that's all, my good youth. Write down your confession and get it off

your chest. Here's a fountain pen. The luck has been against you, I admit. It was devilishly well thought out, your trick of the last moment. You had the banknotes which were in your way and which you wanted to destroy. Nothing simpler. You take a big, round-bellied water-boggling. It was a big, and stand it on the window-sill. It acts as a burning glass, concentrating the rays of the sun on the cardboard and tissue paper, all nicely prepared. Ten minutes later, it bursts into flames. A splendid idea. And like all great discoveries, it came quite by chance, what? It reminds one of Newton's apple. One day, the sun, passing through the water in that bottle, must have set fire to a scrap of cotton or the head of a match. And as you had the sun at your disposal just now, you said to yourself,

now is the time, and stood the bottle in the right position. My congratulations, Gaston. Look, here's a sheet of paper. Write down, it was I who murdered Mr. Guillaume. Right, I tell you. Leaning over the young man, with all his implacable force of will, he compelled him to write, guiding his hand and dictating the sentences. Dutre, exhausted. at the end of his strength wrote as he was told here's a confession mr chief inspector said renin you will be good enough to take it to m duduille the gentleman turning to the waiters from the restaurant will i am sure consent to serve as witnesses and seeing that dutreux overwhelmed by what had happened did not move he gave him a shake hi you look alive now that you've been fool enough to confess make an end of the job my gentle idiot the other watched him standing in front of him obviously renin continued you're only a simpleton the hat-box was fairly burnt to ashes so were the notes that hat-box my dear fellow is a different one and those notes belonged to me i even burnt six of them to make you swallow the stunt and you couldn't make out what had happened what an owl you must be to furnish me with evidence at the last moment when i hadn't a single proof of my own and such evidence

A written confession, written before witnesses! Look here, my man, if they do cut off your head, as I sincerely hope they will, upon my word, you'll have jolly well deserved it. Goodbye, Dutre. Downstairs in the street, Renin asked Ortenes Daniel to take the car, go to Madeline Obriieu, and tell her what it happened. And you, asked Ortenes, I have a lot to do, urgent appointments.

and you deny yourself the pleasure of bringing the good news. It's one of the pleasures that pall upon one. The only pleasure that never flags is that of the fight itself. Afterwards, things ceased to be interesting. She took his hand and for a moment held it in both her own. She would have liked to express all her admiration to that strange man, who seemed to do good as a sort of game, and who did it with something like genius. But she was unable to speak.

All these rapid incidents. had upset her. Emotion constricted her throat and brought the tears to her eyes. Renin bowed his head, saying, Thank you, I have my reward. End of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 of the 8 Strokes of the Clock. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Leblanc.

Chapter 3. The Case of Jean-Louis. "'Monsieur,' continued the young girl, addressing Serge Reginin, "'it was while I was spending the Easter holidays at Nice with my father "'that I made the acquaintance of Jean-Louis d'ainbleval.' "'Rinin interrupted her. "'Excuse me, mademoiselle, but just now you spoke of this young man as Jean-Louis Vour-Rois.' "'That's his name also,' she said.

"'Has he two names, then?' "'I don't know. "'I don't know anything about it,' she said, with some embankment. and that is why, by Ortenes's advice, I came to ask for your help. This conversation was taking place in Renin's flat on the Boulevard houseman, to which Ortenes had brought her friend Genevieve Emar, a slender, pretty little creature, with a face overshadowed by an expression of the greatest melancholy. Rinin will be successful. Take my word for it, Genvieve. You will, Renin, won't you?

Please tell me the rest of the story, Mademoiselle, he said. Viev continued. I was already engaged at the time to a man whom I loathe and detest. My father was trying to force me to marry him, and is still trying to do so. Jean-Louis and I felt the keenest sympathy for each other, a sympathy that soon developed into a profound and passionate affection which, I can assure you, was equally sincere on both sides. On my return to Paris, Jean-Louis, who lives in the country with his mother and his aunt, took

rooms in our part of the town. And as I am allowed to go out by myself, we used to see each other daily. I need not tell you that we were engaged to be married. I told my father so. This is what he said. I don't particularly like the fellow, but whether it's he or another, what I want is that you should get married, so let him come and ask for your hand. If not, you must do as I say. In the middle of June, Jean-Lou went home to arrange matters with his mother and aunt. I received some passionate letters, and then just these few words. There are too many obstacles in the way of our happiness. I give up. I am mad with despair. I love you more than ever. Goodbye and forgive me. Since then I have received nothing, no reply to my letters and telegrams.

Perhaps he has fallen in love with somebody else, asked Gronin. Or there may be some old connection which he is unable to shake off. Genvieve shook her head. monsieur believe me if our engagement had been broken off for an ordinary reason i should not have allowed ortense to trouble you but it is something quite different i am absolutely convinced there's a mystery in jean louise's life or rather an endless number of mysteries which hamper and pursue him i never saw such distress in a human face and from the first moment of our meeting i was conscious in him of a grief and melancholy which have always persisted even at times when he was giving himself to our love with the greatest confidence but your impression must have been confirmed by minor details by things which happened to strike you as peculiar i don't quite know what to say these two names for instance yes there was certainly that by what name did he introduce himself to you Jean-Louis d'Aimbleval? But Jean-Louis, that's what my father calls him.

Why? Because that was how he was introduced to my father, at niece, by a gentleman who knew him. Besides, he carries visiting cards, which describe him under either name. Have you never questioned him on this point? Yes, I have, twice. The first time he said that his aunt's name was Vorreux,

and his mother's d'enbleval. And the second time? He told me the contrary. He spoke of his mother as Vourrois and of his aunt as D'Ambleval. I pointed this out. He coloured up, and I thought it better not to question him any further. Does he live far from Paris? Right down in Brittany, at the Manoir del Savin,

five miles from Caresche. Renin rose and asked the girl seriously, Are you quite certain that he loves you, mademoiselle? I am certain of it, and I know, too, that he represents all my life and all my happiness. He alone can save me. If he can't, then I shall be married in a week's time to a man whom I hate. I have promised my father, and the bans have been published. We shall leave for Carrasch, Madame Danielle and I, this evening, said Renin. That evening he and Ortenes took the train for Brittany. They reached

Carrash at ten o'clock in the morning, and after lunch, at half-past twelve o'clock, they stepped into a car borrowed from a leading resident of the district. you're looking a little pale my dear said renin with a laugh as they alighted by the gate of the garden at elsevin i'm very fond of jean-vieve she said she's the only friend i have and i'm feeling frightened he called her attention to the fact that the central gate was flanked by two wickets bearing the names of madame d'enbleval and madame voreau respectively each of these wickets opened on a narrow path which ran among the shrubberies of box and ocuba to the left and right of the main avenue. The avenue itself led to an old manor house, long, low, and picturesque, but provided with two clumsily built,

ugly wings, each in a different style of architecture, and each forming the destination of one of the side paths. Madame de Mlleval evidently lived on the left, and Madame Vorouroix on the right. Ortenes and Renin listened. Shrill, hasty voices were disputing inside the house. The sound came through one of the windows,

of the ground floor, which was level with the garden, and covered throughout its length with red creepers and white roses. We can't go any farther, said Ortenes. It would be indiscreet. All the more reason, whispered Renin. Look here. If we walk straight ahead, we shan't be seen by the people who are quarreling. The sounds of conflict were by no means abating, and when they reached the window next to

the front door, through the roses and creepers they could both see and hear two old ladies shrieking at the tops of their voices and shaking their fists at each other. The women were standing in the foreground in a large dining-room where the table was not yet cleared, and at the farther side of the table sat a young man, doubtless Jean-Louis himself, smoking his pipe and reading a newspaper without appearing to trouble about the two old herodons. One of these, a thin, tall woman, was wearing a purple silk dress, and her hair was dressed in a mass of curls much too yellow for the ravaged face around her. which they tumbled the other who was still thinner but quite short was bustling round the room in a cotton dressing-gown and displayed a red painted face blazing with anger

a baggage that's what you are she yelped the wickedest woman in the world and a thief into the bargain i a thief screamed the other what about that business with the ducks at ten francs apiece don't you call that thieving hold your tongue you low creature who stole the fifty-franc note from my dressing-table. Lord, that I should have to live with such a wretch! The others started with fury at the outrage, and addressing the young man, cried, Jean, are you going to sit there and let me be insulted by your hussy of a d'enbe laval? And the tall one retorted furiously. Hassy! Do you hear that, Louis? Look at her, your Vourroix. She's got the airs of a superannuated barmaid. Make her stop, can't you? Suddenly, Jean-Louis banged his fist upon the table, making the plates and dishes jump and shouted,

Be quiet, both of you, you old lunatics! They turned upon him at once and loaded him with abuse. Coward, hypocrite, liar! A pretty sort of son you are! The son of a slut and not much better yourself! The insults rained down upon him. He stopped his ears with his fingers and writhed as he sat at table. like a man who has lost all patience and has need to restrain himself lest he should fall upon his enemy renin whispered now's the time to go in

and among all those infuriated people protested ortenes exactly we shall see them better with their masks of and with a determined step he walked to the door opened it and entered the room followed by his advent gave rise to a feeling of stupefaction the two women stopped yelling but were still scarlet in the face and trembling with rage jean louis who was very pale stood up profiting by the general confusion renin said briskly allow me to introduce myself i am prince renin this is madame daniel we are friends of mademoiselle jean vievaire and we have come in her name i have a letter from her addressed to you monsieur jean louis already disconcerted by the newcomer's arrival lost countenance entirely on hearing the name of genevieve without quite knowing what he was saying and with the intention of responding to renin's courteous behaviour he tried in his turn to introduce the two ladies and let fall the astounding words my mother madame de mlleval my mother madame voreau for some time no one spoke reinin bowed ortenes did not know with whom she should shake hands with madame de mlle the mother or with madame voreau the mother but what happened was that madame de mlle and madame voreau both at the same time attempted to snatch the letter which renin was holding out to jean louis while both at the same time mumbled mademoiselle emma she has had the coolness she has had the audacity then jean louis recovering his self-possession laid hold of his mother d'inbleval and pushed her out of the room by a door on the left and next of his mother and pushed her out of the room by a door on the right then returning to his two visitors he opened the envelope and read in an undertone

i am to be married in a week jean louis come to my rescue i beseech you my friend ortense and prince renin will help you to overcome the obstacles that baffle you trust them i love you he was a rather dull-looking young man whose very swarthy lean and bony face certainly bore the expression of melancholy and distress described by genevieve indeed the marks of suffering were visible in all his harassed features as well as in his sad and anxious eyes he repeated genevieve's name over and over again while looking about him with a distracted air he seemed to be seeking a course of conduct he seemed on the point of offering an explanation but could find nothing to say the sudden intervention had taken him at a disadvantage like an unforeseen attack which he did not know how to meet renin felt that the adversary would capitulate at the first summons the man had been fighting so desperately during the last few months and it suffered so severely in the retirement and obstinate silence in which he had taken refuge that he was not thinking of defending himself moreover how could he do so now that they had forced their way into the privacy of his odious existence take my word for it monsieur declared renin that it is in your best interests to confide in us we are genevieve emmao's friends do not hesitate to speak i can hardly hesitate he said after what you have just heard this is the life i lead monsieur i will tell you the whole secret so that you may tell it to jean vieve she will then understand why i have not gone back to her and why i have not the right to do so he pushed a chair forward for the two men sat down and without any need of further persuasion rather as though he himself felt a certain relief in unburdening himself he said you must not be surprised monsieur if i tell my story with a certain flivancy for as a matter of fact it is a frankly comical story and cannot fail to make you laugh

fate often amuses itself by playing these imbecile tricks these monstrous farces which seem as though they must have been invented by the brain of a madman or a drunkard judge for yourself twenty-seven years ago the manuel del savain which at that time consisted only of the main building was occupied by an old doctor who to increase his modest means used to receive one or two paying guests in this way madame de mlle spent the summer here one year and madame voreau the following summer now these two ladies did not know each other one of them was married to a breton of a merchant vessel and the other to a commercial traveller from the von it so happened that they lost their husbands at the same time, at a period when each of them was expecting a baby, and as they both lived in the country, at places some distance from any town, they wrote to the old doctor that they intended to come to his house for their confinement. He agreed. They arrived almost on the same day in the autumn. Two small bedrooms were prepared for them, behind the room in which we are sitting. The doctor had engaged a nurse who slept

in this very room. Everything was perfectly satisfactory. The ladies were putting the finishing touches to their baby clothes and were getting on together splendidly. They were determined that their children should be boys and had chosen the names of Jean and Louis, respectively. One evening, the doctor was called out to a case and drove off in his gig with the manservant, saying that he would not be back till next day. In her master's absence, a little girl who served as made of all work, ran out to keep company with her sweetheart. These accidents, destiny turned to account with diabolical malignity. At about midnight, Madame de Blaval was seized with the first pains. The nurse, Mademoiselle, has had some training as a midwife and did not lose her head. But an hour later, Madame Vorrois's

turn came, and the tragedy, or I might rather say the tragicomity, was enacted amid the screams and moans of the two patients, and the bewildered agitation of the nurse, running from one to the other, bewailing her fate, opening the window to call out for the doctor, or falling on her knees to implore the aid of Providence. Madame Vaux-Rois was the first to bring a son into the world. Mademoiselle Boussinol hurriedly carried him in here, washed and tended him, and laid him in the cradle prepared for him. But Madame de Mlleval was screaming with pain, and the nurse had to attend to her while the newborn child was yelling like a stuck pig, and the terrified mother, unable to stir from her bed, fainted. Add to this all the wretchedness of darkness and disorder,

the only laugh without any oil, for the servant had neglected to fill it, the candles burning out, the moaning of the wind, the screeching of the owls, and you will understand that Mademoiselle Boussinio was scared out of her wits. However, at five o'clock in the morning, after many tragic incidents she came in here with the d'embleval baby likewise a boy washed and tended him laid him in his cradle and went off to help madame who had come to herself and was crying out while madame d'inbleval had fainted in her turn and when mademoiselle busignolle having settled the two mothers but half crazed with fatigue her brain in a whirl returned to the newborn children she realized with horror that she had wrapped them in similar binders, thrust their feet into similar woolen socks, and laid them both side by side in the same cradle, so that it was impossible to tell Louis Nain-Bleval from Jean-Vour-Rois. To make matters worse, when she lifted one of them out of the cradle, she found that his

hands were cold as ice, and that he had ceased to breathe. He was dead. What was his name, and what the survivors? Three hours later, the doctor found the two women in a condition of frenzy delirium, while the nurse was dragging herself from one bed to the other, entreating the two mothers to forgive her. She held me out first to one, then to the other, to receive their caresses, for I was the surviving child, and they first kissed me and then pushed me away. For after all, who was I? The son of the widowed Madame D'inbleval and the late merchant captain, or the son of the widowed Madame Vourroix and the late commercial traveler? There was not a clue by which they could tell. The doctor begged each of the two mothers to sacrifice their

rights, at least from the legal point of view, so that I might be called either Louis d'Avel or Jean-Vor-Rois. They refused absolutely. Why, Jean-Vor-Rois, if he's a D'Amble-Val, protested the one. Why, Louis-Dainble-Val, if he's a Vore-Rois, retorted the other, and I was registered under the name of Jean-Louis, the son of an unknown father and mother. hermignan had listened in silence but ortens as the story approached to its conclusion had given way to a hilarity which she could no longer restrain and suddenly in spite of all of her efforts she burst into a fit of the wildest laughter oh forgive me she said her eyes filled with tears oh do forgive me it's too much for my nerves don't apologize madame said the young man gently in a voice free from resentment. I warned you that my story was laughable.

I, better than anyone, know how absurd, how nonsensical it is. Yes, the whole thing is perfectly grotesque. But believe me, when I tell you that it was no fun in reality, it seems a humorous situation, and it remains humorous by the force of circumstances, but it is also horrible. You can see that for yourself, can't you?

The two mothers, neither of whom was certain of me, being a mother, but neither of whom was certain that she was not one, both clung to Jean-Louis. He might be a stranger. On the other hand, he might be their own flesh and blood. They loved him to excess and fought for him furiously, and above all, they both came to hate each other with a deadly hatred, differing completely in character and education, and obliged to live together, because neither was willing to forego the advantage of her possible maternity, they lived the life of irreconcilable enemies who can never lay their weapons aside. I grew up in the midst of this hatred, and had it instilled into me by both of them.

When my childish heart, hungering for affection, inclined me to one of them, the other would seek to inspire me with loathing and contempt for her. In this manor-house which they bought on the old doctor's death, and which they added the two wings, I was the involuntary torturer and their daily victim. tormented as a child and as a young man leading the most hideous of lives, I doubt if anyone on earth ever suffered more than I did. You ought to have left them, exclaimed D'Octan's would stop laughing. One can't leave one's mother, and one of those two women was my mother,

and a woman can't abandon her son, and each of them was entitled to believe that I was her son. We were all three chained together like convicts, with chains of sorrow, compassion, doubt, and also of hope that the truth might one day become apparent. And here we still are, all three, insulting one another, and blaming one another for our wasted lives. Oh, what a hell, and there was no escaping it. I tried often enough, but in vain. The broken bonds became tied again. Only this summer, under the stimulus of my love for Genvieve, I tried to free myself and did my utmost to persuade the two women whom I call mother. And then, and then, I was up against their complaints,

their immediate hatred of the wife, of the stranger whom I was proposing to force upon them. I gave way, What sort of a life would Genevieve have had here between Madame D'inbleval and Madame Vaux-Rois? I had no right to victimize her. Jean-Louis, who had been gradually becoming excited, uttered these last words in a firm voice.

as though he would have wished his conduct to be ascribed to conscientious motives and a sense of duty. In reality, as Renin and Ortenes clearly saw, his was an unusually weak nature, incapable of reacting against a ridiculous position from which he had suffered ever since he was a child and which he had come to look upon his final and irremediable. He endured it as a man bears a cross which he has no right to cast aside, and at the same time he was ashamed of it. He had never spoken of it to Genvieve, from dread of ridicule, and afterwards, on returning to his prison,

he had remained there out of habit and weakness. He sat down to a writing-table and quickly wrote a letter which he handed to Renin. Would you be kind enough to give this note to Mademoiselle Emard and beg her once more to forgive me? Renin did not move, and when the other pressed the letter upon him, he took it and tore it. it up. What does this mean? asked the young man. It means that I will not charge myself with any message. Why? Because you are coming with us. I? Yes, you will see Mademoiselle Emar to-morrow and ask for her

her hand in marriage. Jean-Louis looked at Rinan with a rather disdainful air as though he were thinking, here's a man who has not understood a word of what I've been explaining to him. But Ortene's went up to Renin. Why do you say that? Because it will be, as I say. But you must have your reasons. One only, but it will be enough, provided this gentleman is so kind as to help me in my inquiries. Inquiries? With what object? asked the young man, with the object of proving that your story is not quite accurate. Jean-Louis took umbrage at this. I must ask you to believe, monsieur, that I have not said a word which is not the exact truth. I express myself badly, said Rinin, with great kindliness. Certainly you have not said a word that does not agree with what you believe to be the

exact truth, but the truth is not, cannot be what you believe it to be. The young man folded his arms. In any case, monsieur, it seems likely that I should know the truth better than you do. Why better? What happened on that tragic night can obviously. be known to you only at second-hand. You have no proofs. Neither have Madame de Blalvelle and Madame Vaux-Rois. No proofs of what? exclaimed Jean-Louis, losing patience. No proofs of the confusion that took place. Why, it's in absolute certainty. The two children were laid in the same cradle, with no marks to distinguish one from the other, and the nurse was unable to tell. At least that's her version of it, interrupted Renényny.

in what's that her version but you're accusing the woman i'm accusing her of nothing yes you are you're accusing her of lying and why should she lie she had no interest in doing so and her tears and despair are so much evidence of her good faith for after all the two mothers were there they saw the woman weeping they questioned her and then i repeat what interest had she jean louis was greatly excited close beside him madame de mlleval and madame voreau who had no doubt been listening behind the doors and who had stealthily entered the room stood stammering in amazement no no it's impossible we've questioned her over and over again why should she tell a lie speak monsieur speak jean louis enjoined explain yourself give your reasons for trying to cast down upon an absolute truth because that truth is inadmissible declared renin raising his voice and growing excited in turn to the point of punctuating his remarks by thumping the table no things don't happen like that no fate does not display those refinements of cruelty and chances not added to chance with such reckless extravagance it was already an unprecedented chance that on the very night on which the doctor his man-servant and his maid were out of the house, the two ladies should be seized with labour pains at the same hour, and should bring two sons into the world at the same time.

Don't let us add a still more exceptional event. Enough of the uncanny, enough of lamps that go out in candles that refuse to burn. No, and again no. It is not admissible that a midwife should become confused in the essential details of her trade. However bewildered she may be by the unforeseen nature of the circumstances, a remnant of instinct is still on the alert, so that there is a place prepared for each child, and each is kept distinct from the other. The first child is here, the second is there. Even if they are lying side by side, one is on the left, and the other on the right. Even if they are wrapped in the same kind of binders, some little detail differs, a trifle which is recorded by the memory, and which is inevitably recalled to the mind without any

need of reflection. Confusion? I refuse to believe in it. Impossible to tell one from the other? It isn't true. In the world of fiction, yes, one can imagine all sorts of fantastic accidents and heap contradiction on contradiction. But in the world of reality, at the very heart of reality, there is always a fixed point, a solid nucleus of which the facts group themselves in accordance with a logical order. I therefore declare more. most positively that Nurse Boussinor could not have mixed up the two children. All this, he said decisively, as though he had been present during the night in question, and so great was his power of persuasion that from the very first he shook the certainty

of those who for more than a quarter of a century had never doubted. The two women and their son pressed round him and questioned him with breathless anxiety. Then you think that she may know, that she may be able to tell you. tell us he corrected himself i don't say yes and i don't say no all i say is that there was something in her behaviour during those hours that does not tally with her statements and with reality all the vast and intolerable mystery that has weighed down upon you three arises not from a momentary lack of attention but from something of which we do not know but of which she does that is what i maintain and that is what happened Jean-Louis said in a husky voice, She's a lot. She lives at Carreche.

We can send for her. Ortenes at once proposed, Would you like me to go for her? I will take the motor and bring her back with me. Where does she live? In the middle of the town at a little draper's shop, the chauffeur will show you. Mademoiselle Bucignolle, everybody knows her.

And whatever you do, added Renin, don't warn her in any way. If she's uneasy, so much the better. But don't let her know what we want with her. Twenty minutes passed in absolute silence. Renin paced the room, in which the fine old furniture, the handsome tapestries, the well-bound books and pretty knick-knacks, denoted a love of art and a seeking-after style in Jean-Louis. This room was really his. In the adjoining apartments on either side, through the open doors, and was able to note the bad taste of the two mothers. You went up to Jean-Louis, and, in a low voice, asked, Are they well off?

Yes. And you? They settled the manor-house upon me, with all the land around it, which makes me quite independent. Have they any relations? Sisters, both of them. With whom they could go to live? Yes, and they have sometimes thought of doing so.

but there can't be any question of that once more i assure you meantime the car had returned the two women jumped up hurriedly ready to speak leave it to me said renin and don't be surprised by anything that i say it's not a matter of asking her questions but of frightening her of flurrying her the sudden attack he added between his teeth the car drove round the lawn and drew up outside the windows ortaine sprang out and helped an old woman to alight dressed in a fluted linen cap a black velvet bodice and a heavy gathered skirt the old woman entered in a great state of alarm she had a pointed face like a weasels with a prominent mouth full of protruding teeth what's the matter madame de mlleval she asked timidly stepping into the room from which the doctor had once driven her good day d'am madame voreau the ladies did not reply renin came forward and said sternly mademoiselle busignolle i have been sent by the paris police to throw light upon a tragedy which took place here twenty-seven years ago i have just secured evidence that you have distorted the truth and that as a result of your false declarations the birth certificate of one of the children born in the course of that night is inaccurate now false declarations in matters of birth certificates are misdemeanors punishable by law i shall therefore be obliged to take you to paris to be interrogated unless you are prepared here and now to confess everything that might repair the consequences of your offence the old maid was shaking in every limb her teeth were chattering she was evidently incapable of opposing the least resistance to renin are you ready to confess everything he asked

yes she panted without delay i have to catch a train the business must be settled immediately if you show the least hesitation i take you with me have you made up your mind to speak yes he pointed to jean Louis. Whose son is this gentleman? Madame de Mela Vals? No. Madame Vaux was, therefore. No. A stupefied silence welcomed the two replies. Explain yourself, Renin commanded, looking at his watch. Then Madame Boussignolle fell on her knees and said, in so low and dull a voice that they had to bend over her in order to catch the sense of what she was mumbling. someone came in the evening a gentleman with a new-born baby wrapped in blankets which he wanted the doctor to look after as the doctor wasn't there he waited all night and it was he who did it all did what asked renin what did he do what happened well what happened was that it was not one child but the two of them that died madame de mlleves and madame vaux was too both in convulsions

then the gentleman, seeing this, said, This shows me where my duty lies. I must seize this opportunity of making sure that my own boy shall be happy and well cared for, put him in the place of one of the dead children. He offered me a big sum of money, saying that this one payment would save him the expense of providing for his child every month, and I accepted. Only I did not know in whose place to put him,

and whether to say that the boy was Louis de Mbleval or, or Jean-Vor-Rois. The gentleman thought a moment and said, "'Neither. Then he explained to me what I was to do and what I was to say after he had gone. And while I was dressing his boy in vest in binders the same as one of the dead children,

he wrapped the other in the blankets he had brought with him and went out into the night.' Mademoiselle Busignolle bent her head and wept. After a moment, Renin said, "'Your deposition agrees with the result of my investigations.' Can I go? Yes. And is it over as far as I'm concerned?

They won't be talking about this all over the district. No. Oh, just one more question. Do you know the man's name? No, he didn't tell me his name. Have you ever seen him since? Never. Have you anything more to say?

No. Are you prepared to sign the written text of your confession? Yes. Very well. I shall send for you in a week or two. Till then, not a word to anybody. He saw her to the door and closed it after her. When he returned, Jean-Louis was between the two old ladies, and all three were holding hands. The bond of hatred and wretchedness which had bound them had suddenly snapped, and this rupture, without requiring them to reflect upon the matter, filled them with a gentle tranquility of which they were hardly conscious, but which made them serious and thoughtful.

Let's rush things, said Renéin to Ortenes. This is the decisive moment of the battle. We must get Jean-Louis on board. Ortene seemed preoccupied, she whispered. Why did you let the woman go? Were you satisfied with her statement? I don't need to be satisfied. She told us what happened, but more do you want?

Nothing? I don't know. We'll talk about it later, my dear. For the moment, I repeat, we must get Jean-Louis on board, and immediately, otherwise. He turned to the young man. You agree with me, don't you, that things being as they are, it is best for you and Madame Vourouin and Madame de Villeval to separate for a time. That will enable you all to see matters more clearly, and to decide in perfect freedom what is to be done. us, monsieur, the most pressing thing is to save Jean-Viervese-Amer, your fiancée. Jean-Louis stood perplexed and undecided. Ren, turned to the two women. That is your opinion, too, I am sure, ladies. They nodded.

You see, monsieur, he said to Jean-Louis, we are all agreed. In great crazies there is nothing like separation. A few days respite. Quickly now, monsieur. And without giving him time to hesitate, he drove him towards his bedroom to pack up. Half an hour later, Jean-Louis left the manor-house with his new friends. "'And he won't go back until he's married,' said Renin to Ortenes, as they were waiting at Carreche Station, to which the car had taken them while Jean-Louis was

attending to his luggage. "'Everything's for the best. Are you satisfied?' "'Yes, Chenevere will be glad,' she replied absently. When they had taken their seats in the train, Renéne and and she repaired to the dining-car. Renin, who had asked Orten's several questions, to which she had replied only in monosyllables, protested, what's the matter with you, my child? You look worried. I? Not at all. Yes, yes, I know you. Now, no secrets, no mysteries. She smiled. Well, since you insist on knowing if I am satisfied, I am bound to admit that, of course I am, as regards my French en Viev, but that in another respect, from the point of view of the adventure,

I have an uncomfortable sort of feeling. To speak frankly, I haven't staggered you this time. Not very much. I seem to you to have played a secondary part, for after all, what have I done? We arrived, we listened to Jean-Louis' tale of woe. I had a mid-wave fetched, and that was all. "'Exactly. I want to know if that was all, and I'm not quite sure. To tell you the truth, our other adventures left behind them an impression which was, how shall I put it, more definite, clearer. And this one strikes you as obscure? Obscure, yes, and incomplete. But in what way? I don't know. Perhaps it has something to do with that woman's confession. Yes, very likely that is it. It was also unexpected and so short.

Well, of course I cut it short, as you can readily imagine, said Renin, laughing. We didn't want too many explanations. What do you mean? Why, if she had given her explanations with too much detail, we should have ended by doubting what she was telling us. By doubting it? Well, hang it all. The story is a trifle far-fetched.

That fellow arriving at night with a lot. live baby in his pocket and going away with a dead one. The thing hardly holds water. But you see, my dear, I hadn't much time to coach the unfortunate woman in her part. Ochton stared at him in amazement. What on earth do you mean? Well, you know how dull-witted these country women are, and she and I had no time to spare, so we worked out a little scene in a hurry, and she really didn't act it so badly. It was all in the right key. Terror. Lé, Molo, tears. Is it possible?

murmured Orteans. Is it possible? You had seen her beforehand? I had to, of course. But when? This morning when we arrived. While you were titivating yourself at the hotel at Carrasch, I was running round to see what information I could pick up.

As you may imagine, everybody in the district knows the D'emblevalvois story. I was at once directed to the former midwife, Mademoiselle Boussignolle. With Mademoiselle Bucignolle, it did not take long, three minutes to settle a new version of what had happened, and ten thousand francs to induce her to repeat that, more or less credible, version to the people at the manor-house. A quite incredible version! Not so bad as all that, my child,

seeing that you believed it, and the others, too. And that was the essential thing. What I had to do was to demolish at one blow, a truth which had been twenty-seven years in existence, and which was all the more firmly established, because it was founded on actual facts. That was why I went for it with all my might, and attacked it by sheer force of eloquence. Impossible to identify the children? I deny it. Inevitable confusion?

It's not true. You're all three, I say, the victims of something which I don't know, but which it is your duty to clear. up. That's easily done, says Jean-Louis, whose conviction is at once shaken. Let's send for Mademoiselle Boussignolle. Right, let's send for her, whereupon Mademoiselle Bucignolle arrives, and mumbles out the little speech which I have taught her. Sensation, general stupefaction of which I take advantage to carry off our young men. Ortenes shook her head. But they'll get over it, all three of them, unthinkers. never never they will have their doubts perhaps but they will never consent to feel certain they will never agree to think use your imagination here are three people whom i have rescued from the hell in which they've been floundering for a quarter of a century do you think they're going back to it

here are three people who from weakness or a false sense of duty had not the courage to escape do you think that they won't cling like grim death to the liberty which i'm giving them nonsense why they would have swallowed a hoax twice as difficult to digest as that which mademoiselle busignolle dished up for them after all my version was no more absurd than the truth on the contrary and they swallowed it whole look at this before we left i heard madame de laval and madame vaux-wa speak of an immediate removal they were already becoming quite affectionate at the thought of seeing the last of each other but what about john louis jean louis why he was fed up with his two mothers by jingo one can't do with two mothers in a lifetime what a situation and when one has the luck to be able to choose between having two mothers or none at all why bless me one doesn't hesitate and besides Jean-Louis is in love with Genevieve. He laughed, and he loves her well enough, I hope and trust, not to inflict two mothers-in-law upon her. Come, you may be easy in your mind.

Your friend's happiness is assured, and that is all you asked for. All that matters is the object which we achieve, and not the more or less peculiar nature of the methods which we employ. And if some adventures are wound up, and some mysteries elucidated by looking for and finding cigarette ends or incendiary water bottles and blazing hat-boxes as on our last expedition others call for psychology and for purely psychological solutions i have spoken and i charge you to be silent silent yes there's a man and woman sitting behind us who seem to be saying something uncommonly interesting but they're talking in whispers just so when people talk in whispers it's always about something shady he lit a cigarette and sat back in his chair orthens listened but in vain as for him he was emitting little slow puffs of smoke fifteen minutes later the train

Jane stopped and the man and woman got out. "'Pity,' said Renin, "'that I don't know their names or where they're going, but I know where to find them. My dear, we have a new adventure before us.' Artennes protested. "'Oh, no, please, not yet. Give me a little rest.

And oughtn't to think of Genevieve.' He seemed greatly surprised. "'Why, all that's over and done with? Do you mean to say that you want to waste any more time over that old story? while i for my part confess that i've lost all interest in the man with the two mammas and this was said in such a comical tone and with such diverting sincerity that d'ortens was once more seized with a fit of giggling laughter alone was able to relax her exasperated nerves and to distract her from so many contradictory emotions end of chapter three chapter four of the eight strokes of the clock this librovoc's recording is in the public domain the eight strokes of the clock by maurice le blan chapter four the tell-tale film

do look at the man who's playing the butler said serge regine what is there peculiar about him asked ortenes they were sitting in the balcony at a picture palace to which ortens had asked to be taken so that she had asked see on the screen the daughter of a lady now dead who used to give her piano lessons. Rose André, a lovely girl with lissom movements and a smiling face, was that evening figuring in a new film, the happy princess, which she lit up with her high spirits and her warm, glowing beauty. Rennon made no direct reply, but during a pause in the performance continued, I sometimes console myself for an indifferent film by watching the subordinate characters. It seems to me that those poor devils, who are made to rehearse certain scenes ten or twenty

times over, must often be thinking of other things than their parts at the time of the final exposure, and it's great fun noting those little moments of distraction which reveal something of their temperament, of their instinct self, as for instance in the case of that butler, look. the screen now showed a luxuriously served table the happy princess sat at the head surrounded by all her suitors half a dozen footmen moved about the room under the orders of the butler a big fellow with a dull coarse face a common appearance and a pair of enormous eyebrows which met across his forehead in a single line he looks a brute said ortenes but what do you see in him that's peculiar just note how he gazes at the princess and tell me if he doesn't stare at her oftener than he ought to i really haven't noticed anything so far said why of course he does sergeantin declared it is quite obvious that in actual life he entertains for rosandre personal feelings which are quite out of place in a nameless servant it is possible that in real life no one has any idea of such a thing but on the screen when he is not watching himself or when he thinks that the actors at rehearsal cannot see him his secret escapes him look the man was standing still it was the end of dinner the princess was drinking a glass of champagne and he was gloating over her with his glittering eyes half hidden behind their heavy lids

twice again they surprised in his face those strange expressions to which renin ascribed an emotional meaning which ortens refused to see it's just his way of looking at people she said the first part of the film ended there were two parts of the film ended there were two parts divided by an entract. The notice on the program stated that a year had elapsed and that the happy princess was living in a pretty Norman cottage, all hung with creepers, together with her husband, a poor musician. The princess was still happy, as was evident on the screen, still as attractive as ever, and still besieged by the greatest variety of suitors. Nobles and commoners, peasants and financiers, men of all kinds fell swooning at her feet, and prominent among them was a sort of boorish solitary, a shaggy, half-wild wood-cutter, whom she met whenever she went out for a walk. Armed with his axe, a formidable crafty being,

he prowled around the cottage, and the spectators felt with a sense of dismay that apparel was hanging over the happy princess's head. Look at that, whispered Renan. Do you realize where the man of the woods is? No. simply the butler. The same actor is doubling the two parts. In fact, notwithstanding the new figure which he cut, the butler's movements and postures were apparent under the heavy gait and rounded shoulders of the woodcutter. Even as under the unkempt beard and long thick hair, the once clean-shaven face was visible

with the cruel expression and the bushy line of the eyebrows. The princess in the background was seen to emerge from the thatched, cottage. The man hid himself behind a clump of trees. From time to time, the screen displayed, on an enormously enlarged scale, his fiercely rolling eyes or his murderous hands with their huge thumbs. The man frightens me, said Ortenes. He is really terrifying. Because he's acting on his own account, said Renin. You must understand that, in the space of three or four months that appears to separate the dates at which the two films were made, his passion has made progress, and to him it is not the princess who is coming, but Rosandre. The man crouched low. The victim

approached, gaily and unsuspectingly. She passed, heard a sound, stopped and looked about her with a smiling air, which became attentive, then uneasy, and then more and more anxious. The woodcutter had pushed aside the branches and was coming through the cops. They were now standing face to face. He opened his arms as though to seize her. She tried to scream, to call out for help, but the arms closed around her before she could offer the slightest resistance. Then he threw her over his shoulder and began to run.

Are you satisfied? whispered Rignan. Do you think that this fourth-rate actor would have had all that strength and energy if it had been any other woman than Rose André. Meanwhile, the woodcutter was crossing the skirt of a forest and plunging through great trees and masses of rocks. After setting the princess down, he cleared the entrance to a cave

which the daylight entered by a slanting crevice. A succession of views displayed the husband's despair, the search and the discovery of some small branches which had been broken by the princess and which showed the path that had been taken. Then came the final scene, with the terrible struggle between the man and the woman, when the woman vanquished and exhausted, is flung to the ground, the sudden arrival of the husband and the shot that puts an end to the brute's life.

Well, said Renin, when they had left the picture palace, and he spoke with a certain gravity, I maintain that the daughter of your old piano teacher has been in danger ever since the day when that last scene was filmed. I maintain that this scene represents not so much an assault by the man of the woods on the happy princess as a violent and frantic attack by an actor on the woman he desires. Certainly it all happened within the bounds prescribed by the part, and nobody saw anything in it, nobody except perhaps Rose André herself. But I, for my part, have detected flashes of passion which leave not a doubt in my mind. I have seen glances that betrayed the wish and even the intention, to commit murder. I have seen clenched hands ready to strangle. In short, a score of details which proved to me that at that time the man's instinct was urging him to kill the woman who could never be his. And it all amounts to what? We must protect Rosandre if she is still in danger

and if it is not too late. And to do this, we must get hold of further information. From whom? From the World's Cinema Company? which made the film. I will go to them tomorrow morning. Will you wait for me in your flat about lunchtime? At heart, Ortenes was still skeptical. All these manifestations of passion, of which she denied neither the ardor nor the ferocity, seemed to her to be the rational behavior of a good actor. She had seen nothing of the terrible tragedy which Renin contended that he had divined, and she wondered whether he was not airing through an excess of imagination. Well, she asked next day, not without a touch of irony. How far have you got? Have you made a good bag? Anything

mysterious? Anything thrilling? Pretty good. Oh, really? And your so-called lover? Is one Dalbrecht, originally a scene painter who played the butler in the first part of the film and the man of the woods in the second, and was so much appreciated that they engaged him for a new film? consequently he has been acting lately he was acting near paris but on the morning of friday the eighteenth of september he broke into the garage of the world's cinema company and made off with a magnificent car and forty thousand francs in money information was lodged with the police and on the sunday the car was found a little way outside and up to now the inquiry has revealed two things which will appear in the papers to-morrow first talbrec is alleged to have committed a murder which created a a great stir last year, the murder of Borgé, the jeweler. Secondly, on the day after his two robberies, D'Albrec was driving through La Avre in a motor-car with two men who helped him to carry off

in broad daylight and in a crowded street, a lady whose identity has not yet been discovered. Rosandre? asked Ortenes uneasily. I have just been to Rosandre's. The World Cinema Company gave me her address. Rosendres spent this summer traveling and then stayed for a fortnight in the Cennes and Ferrier, where she has a small place of her own, the actual cottage in the happy princess. On receiving an invitation from America to do a film there, she came back to Paris, registered her luggage at the Garc S. Lazare, and left on Friday the 18th of September,

intending to sleep at Le Avre and take Saturday's boat. Friday the 18th, muttered Ortenes, the same day on which that man and it was on the saturday that a woman was carried off by him at le havre i looked in at the company transatlantic and a brief investigation showed that rose andrea had booked a cabin but that the cabin remained unoccupied the passenger did not turn up this is frightful she has been carried off you were right i fear so what have you decided to do adolf my chauffeur is outside with the car let us go to lavre up to the present rosandre's disappearance does not seem to have become known before it does and before the police identify the woman carried off by dalbrecht with the woman who did not turn up to claim her cabin we will get on rosandre's track There was not much said on the journey. At four o'clock, Ortenes and Renin reached Rouen, but here Renin changed his road.

Adolf take the left bank of the Sen. He unfolded a motoring map on his knees, and, tracing the route with his finger, showed Ortenes that if you draw a line from La Avre, or rather from Kilbeuf, where the road crosses the seine, to Dreux, where the stolen car was found, this line passes through Rutot,

a market town lying west of the forest of Breton. Now it was in the forest of Breton, he continued, according to what I heard, that the second part of the happy princess was filmed, and the question that arises is this. Having got hold of Rosendry, would it not occur to Dalbrecht, when passing near the forest on the Saturday night,

to hide his prey there, while his two accomplices went on to Droux, and from there returned to Paris? The cave was quite near, Was he not bound to go to it? How should he do otherwise? Wasn't it while running to this cave a few months ago that he held in his arms against his breast,

within the reach of his lips, the woman whom he loved and whom he has now conquered? By every rule of fate and logic, the adventure is being repeated all over again. But this time, in reality. Rosandre is a captive. There is no hope of rescue. The forest is vast and lonely.

That night, or all, on one of the following nights, Rose André must surrender or die. Ortenes gave a shudder. We shall be too late. Besides, you don't suppose that he's keeping her a prisoner? Certainly not. The place I have in mind is at a crossroads and is not a safe retreat. But we may discover some clue or other.

The shades of night were falling from the tall trees when they entered the ancient forest of Breton, full of Roman remains and medieval relics. René knew the forest well, and remembered that near a famous oak, known as the wine-cask, there was a cave which must be the cave of the happy princess. He found it easily,

switched on his electric torch, rummaged in the dark corners, and brought Orten's back to the entrance. There's nothing inside, he said, but here is the evidence which I was looking for. Dahlbrecht was obsessed by the recollection of the film, but so was rosandre the happy princess had broken off the tips of the branches on the way through the forest rosandre has managed to break off some to the right of this opening in the hope that she would be discovered as on the first occasion yes said hortens it's a proof that she has been here but the proof is three weeks old since that time since that time she is either dead and buried under a heap of leaves or else alive

in some hole even lonelier than this. If so, where is he? Rennin pricked up his ears. Repeated blows of the axe were sounding from some distance, no doubt coming from a part of the forest that was being cleared. He? said Rennin. I wonder whether he may not have continued to behave under the influence of the film,

and whether the man of the woods in the happy princess has not quite naturally resumed his calling. For how is the man to live? to obtain his food without attracting attention he will have found a job we can't make sure of that we might by questioning the woodcutters whom we can hear the car took them by a forest road to another cross-roads where they entered on foot a track which was deeply rutted by wagon wheels a sound of axes ceased after walking for a quarter of an hour they met a dozen men who having finished work for the day were returning to the villages nearby. "'Will this path take us to Routot?' asked Rennin, in order to open a conversation with them.

"'No, you're turning your backs on it,' said one of the men gruffly, and he went on, accompanied by his mates. Ortenes and Rennin stood rooted to the spot. They had recognized the butler. His cheeks and chin were shaved, but his upper lip was covered by a black moustache, evidently died. The eyebrows no longer met,

and were reduced to normal dimensions thus in less than twenty hours acting on the vague hints supplied by the bearing of a film actor serge renin had touched the very heart of the tragedy by means of purely psychological arguments rosandre is alive he said otherwise delbrec would have left the country the poor thing must be imprisoned and bound up and he takes her some food at night we will save her won't we certainly by keeping a-wreck would have left the country certainly by keeping away watch on him, and, if necessary, but in the last resort, compelling him by force to give up his secret. They followed the wood-cutter at a distance, and on the pretext that the car needed overhauling engaged rooms in the principal inn at Routautau. Attached to the inn was a small cafe from which they were separated by the entrance to the yard, and above which were two rooms, reached by a wooden outer staircase at one side. Dalbrecht occupied one of these rooms, and Renin took the other, and Renin took the other,

for his chauffeur. Next morning he learned from Adolf that Dalbrecht, on the previous evening, after all the lights were out, had carried down a bicycle from his room and mounted it and had not returned until shortly before sunrise. The bicycle tracks led Rinean to the uninhabited Chateau de Londe, five miles from the village. They disappeared in a rocky path which ran beside the park down to the seine opposite the Jimege Peninsula. Next night he took up his position. there. At eleven o'clock, Delbrecht climbed a bank, scrambled over a wire fence, hid his bicycle under the branches, and moved away. It seemed impossible to follow him in the pitchy darkness, on a mossy soil that muffled the sound of footsteps. Renin did not make the attempt, but at daybreak

he came with his chauffeur and hunted through the park all the morning. Though the park, which covered the side of a hill and was bounded below by the river, was not very large, he found no clue which gave him any reason to suppose that Rosandre was imprisoned there. He therefore went back to the village with the firm intention of taking action that evening and employing force. This state of things cannot go on, he said to Ortenes. I must rescue Rosandre at all costs and save her from that Ruffian's clutches. He must be made to speak. He must. Otherwise there's a danger that we may be too late. That day was Sunday, and Dalbrake did not go to work. He did not leave his room except for lunch, and went upstairs again immediately afterwards.

But at three o'clock, Renin and Ortens, who were keeping a watch on him from the inn, saw him come down the wooden staircase with his bicycle on his shoulder. Leaning it against the bottom step, he inflated the tires and fastened to the handlebar, a rather bulky object wrapped in a newspaper. By Jove! Muttered Renin. What's the matter? In front of the cafe was a small terrace,

bordered on the right and left by spindle trees planted in boxes, which were connected by a paling. Behind the shrubs, sitting on a bank but stooping forward so that they could see Dalbrecht through the branches, were four men. Police! said Renin. What bad luck! If those fellows take a hand, they will spoil everything.

why on the contrary i should have thought yes they will they will put dalbrick out of the way and then and then will that give us rose andre dalbrick had finished his preparations just as he was mounting his bicycle the detectives rose in a body ready to make a dash for him but dalbrick though quite unconscious of their presence changed his mind and went back to his room as though he had forgotten something now's the time said renin i'm going to risk it but it's a difficult situation and i've no great hopes he went out into the yard and at a moment when the detectives were not looking ran up the staircase as was only natural if he wished to give an order to his chauffeur but he had no sooner reached the rustic balcony at the back of the house which gave admission to the two bedrooms then he stopped dalbrecht's door was open renan walked in dalbrayck stepped back at once assuming the defensive what do you want who said you could silence whispered renan with an imperious gesture it's all up with you what are you talking about growled the man angrily lean out of your window there are four men below on the watch for you to leave four detectives dalbrac leaned over the terrace and muttered an oath on the watch for me he said turning round what do i care They have a warrant. He folded his arms.

Shut up with your piffle, a warrant. What's that to me? Listen, said Renin, and let us waste no time. It's urgent. Your name's Delbrecht, or at least that's the name under which you acted in the happy princess, and under which the police are looking for you as being the murderer of Bourguet, the jeweler, the man who stole a motor-car and forty thousand francs from the world's cinema company, and the man who abducted a woman at Le Avre.

All this is known and proved. And here's the upshot. Four men downstairs. Myself here, my chauffeur, in the next room. You're done for. Do you want me to save you? Dalbrayne gave his adversary a long look. Who are you?

A friend of Rosendres, said Renin. The others started, and to some extent dropping his mask, retorted. What are your conditions? rosandre whom you have abducted and tormented is dying in some hole or corner where is she a strange thing occurred and impressed renin in dalbrecht's face usually so common was lit up by a smile that made it almost attractive but this was only a flashing vision the man immediately resumed his hard and impassive expression and suppose i refuse to speak he said so much the worse for you it means your arrest i dare say but it means the death of rosandre who will release her you you will speak now or in an hour or two hours hence at least you will never have the heart to keep silent and let her die dalbrecht shrugged his shoulders then raising his hand he said i swear on my life that if they arrest me not a word will leave my lips what then then save me we will meet this evening at the end he said-iwere on my life that if they arrest me not a word will leave my lips what then save me we will meet this evening at the

entrance to the Parque de laund and say what we have to say. Why not at once? I have spoken. Will you be there? I shall be there. Renin reflected. There was something in all this that he failed to grasp. In any case, the frightful danger that threatened Rosandre dominated the whole situation, and Renin was not the man to despise this threat and to persist out of vanity and a perilous course. Rose André's life came before everything. he struck several blows on the wall of the next bedroom and called his chauffeur adolf is the car ready yes sir set her going and pull her up in front of the terrace outside the caf right against the boxes so as to block the exit as for you he continued addressing d'albrecht you're to jump on your machine and instead of making off along the road crossed the yard at the end of the yard is a passage leading into a lane there you will be free but no hesitation and no blundering else you'll get yourself nabbed good luck to you he waited till the car was drawn up in accordance with his instructions and when he reached it he began to question his chauffeur in order to attract the detective's attention

one of them however having cast a glance through the spindle-trees caught sight of dalbrac just as he reached the bottom of the staircase he gave the alarm and darted forward followed by his comrades but had to run round the car and bumped into the chauffeur which gave dalbrick time to mount his bicycle and cross the yard unimpeded he thus had some second start unfortunately for him as he was about to enter the passage at the back a troop of boys and girls appeared returning from vespers On hearing the shouts of the detectives, they spread their arms in front of the fugitive, who gave two or three lurches and ended by falling. Cries of triumph were raised. Lay hold of him! Stop him! roared the detectives as they rushed forward. Renin, seeing that the game was up, ran after the others and called out. Stop him!

He came up with them just as Dalbrecht, after regaining his feet, knocked one of the policemen down and levelled his revolver. Renin snatched. out of his hands but the two other detectives startled had also produced their weapons they fired dalbrac hit in the leg and the chest pitched forward and fell thank you sir said the inspector to renin introducing himself we owe a lot to you it seems to me that you've done for the fellow said renin who is he one dalbrac a scoundrel for whom we were looking renin was beside himself orten's adjoined him by this time and he growled the silly fools now they've killed him oh it is impossible we shall see but whether he's dead or alive it's death to rosandre how are we to trace her and what chance have we of finding the place some inaccessible retreat where the poor thing is dying of misery and starvation the detectives and

peasants had moved away bearing d'albrette with them on an improvised stretcher renin who had at first followed them in order to find out what was going to happen changed his mind and was now standing with his eyes fixed on the ground the follow-the bicycle had unfastened the parcel which d'albrecht had tied to the handlebar and the newspaper had burst revealing its contents a tin saucepan rusty dented battered and useless what's the meaning of this he muttered what was the idea He picked it up and examined it. Then he gave a grin and a click of the tongue, and chuckled slowly. Don't move an eyelash, my dear.

Let all these people clear off. All this is no business of ours, is it? The troubles of police don't concern us. We are two motorists traveling for our pleasure and collecting old saucepans if we feel so inclined. He called his chauffeur. Adolf, take us to the Park de Lange. by a roundabout road. Half an hour later they reached the sunken track and began to scramble

down it on foot beside the wooded slopes. The seine, which was very low at this time of day, was lapping against a little jetty, near which lay a worm-eaten, mouldering boat full of puddles of water. Renin stepped into the boat and at once began to bail out the puddles with his saucepan. He then drew the boat alongside of the jetty, helped Orten's Inn, and used the one oar which he shipped in a gap in the stern to work her into midstream. I believe I'm there, he said with a laugh. The worst that can happen to us is to get our feet wet, for our craft leaks a trifle. But haven't we a saucepan?

Oh, blessings on that useful utensil. Almost as soon as I set eyes upon it, I remembered that people use those articles to bail out the bottoms of leaky boats. Why, there was bound to be a boat in the longed woods. How was it I never thought of that? But of course Dalbrecht made use of her to cross the seine, and as she made water, he brought a saucepan. Then Rosandre? asked Ortenes, is a prisoner on the other bank, on the Jumijes Peninsula. You see the famous abbey from here.

They ran aground on a beach of big pebbles covered with slime. And it can't be very far away, he added. Dalbrecht did not spend the whole night running about. A towpath followed the deserted bank. tank another path led away from it they chose the second and passing between orchards enclosed by hedges came to a landscape that seemed strangely familiar to them where had they seen that pool before with the willows overhanging it and where had they seen that abandoned hovel suddenly both of them stopped with one accord oh said ortens i can hardly believe my eyes opposite them was the white gate of a large orchard, at the back of which, among groups of old gnarled apple trees, appeared a cottage with blue shutters, the cottage of the happy princess.

Of course, cried Renin, and I ought to have known it, considering that the film showed both this cottage and the forest close by. And isn't everything happening exactly as in the happy princess? Isn't Dalbray dominated by the memory of it? The house, which is certainly the one in which Rose André spent the summer was empty. He had shut her up there. But the house, you told me, was in the Seine Ferrier. Well, so are we. To the left of the river, the Arre in the Forest of Breton, to the right, the Seine Ferrier. But between them is the obstacle of the river, which is why I didn't connect the two. A hundred and fifty yards of water form a more effective division than dozens of miles. The gate was locked. They got through the head,

a little lower down and walked towards the house which was screened on one side by an old wall shaggy with ivy and roofed with thatch it seems as if there was somebody there said hortens didn't i hear the sound of a window listen someone struck a few chords on a piano then a voice arose a woman's voice softly and solemnly singing a ballad that thrilled with restrained passion the woman's whole soul seemed to breed itself into the melodious notes. They walked on. The wall concealed them from view, but they saw a sitting-room furnished with bright wallpaper and a blue Roman carpet.

The throbbing voice ceased. The piano ended with the last chord, and the singer rose and appeared framed in the window. "'Crosandrie!' whispered Ortenes. "'Well,' said Renin, admitting his astonishment, "'this is the last thing that I expected.

it. Rose André, Rose André, Rose André at liberty, and singing Massinet in the sitting-room of her cottage. What does it all mean? Do you understand? Yes, but it has taken me long enough. But how could we have guessed? Although they had never seen her except on the screen, they had not the least doubt that this was she. It was really Rosandre, or rather the happy princess whom they had admired a few days before, amidst the furniture of that very sitting-room or on the threshold of that very cottage. She was wearing the same dress, her hair was done in the same way, shed on the same bangles and necklaces as in the happy princess, and her lovely face, with its rosy cheeks and laughing eyes, for the same look of joy and serenity. Some sound must have caught her ear, for she leaned over

towards a clump of shrubs beside the cottage and whispered into the silent garden. George, George, is that you, my darling? Receiving no reply, she drew herself up, and stood smiling at the happy thoughts that seemed to flood her being. But a door opened at the back of the room, and an old peasant woman entered with a tray laden with bread, butter, and milk. Here, rose, my pretty one, I've brought you your supper. milk fresh from the cow. And putting down the tray, she continued,

"'Aren't you afraid, Rose, of the chill of the night air? Perhaps you're expecting your sweetheart.' "'I haven't a sweetheart, my dear old Catrine.' "'What next?' said the old woman, laughing. "'Only this morning there were footprints under the window that didn't look at all proper.' "'A burglar's footprints, perhaps, Catherine.' "'Well, I don't say they weren't, Rose, dear, especially as a-of-y-lawful. in your calling you have a lot of people around you, whom it's well to be careful of. For instance, your friend Dalbrin, eh?

Nice goings-on, his are. You saw the paper yesterday, a fellow who was robbed and murdered people and carried off a woman at La Havre. Ortenes and Renéne would have much liked to know what Rosandre thought of the revelations, which had turned her back to them and was sitting at her supper, and the window was now closed so that they could neither hear her reply, nor see the expression of her features. They waited for a moment.

Ortens was listening with an anxious face, but Renin began to laugh. Oh, very funny, really funny, and such an unexpected ending. And we who were hunting for her in some cave or damp cellar, a horrible tomb where the poor thing was dying of hunger. It's a fact she knew the terrors of that first night of captivity, and I maintain that on the first night she was flung half-dead into the cave.

Only there you are. The next morning she was alive. One night was enough to tame the little rogue, and to make Dalbrecht as handsome as Prince charming in her eyes. We see the different? On the films or in novels, the happy princesses resist or commit suicide, but in real life— Oh, woman!

Woman! Yes, said Ortenes, but the man she loves is almost certainly dead. And a good thing, too. It would be the best solution. What would be the outcome of this criminal love for a thief and murderer? A few minutes passed. Then, amid the peaceful silence of the waning day,

mingled with the first shadows of the twilight, they again heard the grating of the window, which was cautiously opened. Rose André leaned over the garden and waited, with her eyes turned to the wall, as though she saw something there. presently renin shook the ivy branches ah she said this time i know you're there yes the ivy's moving george george darling why do you keep me waiting katrine has gone i am all alone she had knelt down and was distractedly stretching out her shapely arms covered with bangles which clashed with a metallic sound george george her every movement the thrill of her voice

her whole being expressed desire and love. Orten's deeply touched, could not help saying, Oh, the poor thing loves him, if she but knew. Oh, cried the girl, you've spoken, you're there, and you want me to come to you, don't you? Here I am, Georges. She climbed over the window ledge and began to run, while Renin went round the wall in advance to meet her.

She stopped short in front of him, and stood choking at the sight of her. of this man and woman whom she did not know, and who were stepping out of the very shadow from which her beloved appeared to her each night. Renin bowed gave his name and introduced his companion. Madame Ortenes Daniel, a pupil and friend of your mother's. Still motionless with stupefaction, her features drawn, she stammered. "'You know who I am? And you were there just now?' you heard what i was saying renin without hesitating or pausing in his speech said you are rosandre the happy princess we saw you on the films the other evening and circumstances led us to set out in search of you to la avre where you were abducted on the day when you were to have left for america and to the forest of breton where you were imprisoned she protested eagerly with a forest laugh

what is all this i have not been to love i came straight here abducted imprisoned what nonsense yes imprisoned in the same cave as the happy princess and you broke off some branches to the right of the cave but how absurd who would have abducted me i have no enemy there is a man in love with you the one whom you are expecting just now yes my lover she said proudly have i not the right to receive whom i like you have the right you are a free agent but the man who comes to see you every night is wanted by the police his name is george d'albrecht he killed bourgett the jeweller the accusation made her start with indiggen nation, and she exclaimed, It's a lie, an infamous fabrication of the newspapers. Georges was in Paris on the night of the murder. He can prove it. He stole a motor car in 40,000 francs in notes.

She retorted vehemently. The motorcar was taken back by his friends, and the notes will be restored. He never touched them. My leaving for America had made him lose his head. Very well, I am quite willing to believe everything that you say, but the police may show us. less faith in these statements and less indulgence. She became suddenly uneasy and faltered.

The police. There's nothing to fear from them? They won't know. Where to find him? I succeeded at all events. He's working as a wood-cutter in the forest of Breton. Yes, but you... That was an accident.

Whereas the police... the words left her lips with the greatest difficulty her voice was trembling and suddenly she rushed at renin stammering he he he is arrested i am sure of it and you have come to tell me arrested wounded dead perhaps oh please please she had no strength left all her pride all the certainty of her great love gave way to an immense despair, and she sobbed out. No, he's not dead, is he? No, I feel that he's not dead. Oh, sir, how unjust it all is. He's the gentlest man, the best that ever lived.

He has changed my whole life. Everything is different since I began to love him. And I love him so. I love him. I want to go to him, take me to him. I want them to arrest me too. I love him. I could not live without him.'

An impulse of sympathy made Ortenes put her arms around the girl's neck and say warmly, "'Yes, come. He is not dead, I am sure, only wounded, and Prince Renin will save him. You will, won't you, Renin? Come, make up a story for your servant. Say that you're going somewhere by train, and that she is not to tell anybody. Be quick, put on a wrap. We will save him.

I swear we will.' Rosandre went indoors and returned almost as a train. at once, disguised beyond recognition in a long cloak and a veil that shrouded her face, and they all took the road back to Routotot. At the inn, Rosandre passed as a friend whom they had been to fetch in the neighbourhood, and were taking to Paris with them. Renin ran out to make inquiries and came back to the two women. It's all right, Dalbreck is alive. They have put him to bed in a private room at the mayor's offices. He has a broken leg in a rather high temperature, but all the same they expect to move him to Roin tomorrow, and they have telephoned there

for a motor-car. And then? asked Rose André anxiously. Rinin smiled. Why, then we shall leave at daybreak. We shall take up our positions in a sunken road, rifle in hand, attack the motor-coach, and carry off Georges. Don't laugh, she said plaintively.

I'm so unhappy. But the adventures seem to amuse Renin. and when he was alone with Ortenes, he exclaimed, You see what comes of preferring dishonor to death? But hang it all, who could have expected this? It isn't a bit the way in which things happen in the pictures. Once the man of the woods had carried off his victim, and considering that for three weeks there was no one to defend her,

how could we imagine, we who had been proceeding all along under the influence of the pictures, that in the space of a few hours the victim would become a princess in love? "'Confound that, Georges. I now understand the sly, humorous look which I surprised on his mobile features. He remembered George did, and he didn't care a hang for me. Oh, he tricked me nicely. And you, my dear, he tricked you, too. And it was all the influence of the film. They show us at the cinema a brute beast, a sort of long-haired, eight-faced savage. What can a man like that be in real life? A brute, inevitably, don't you agree? agree well he's nothing of the kind he's a dawn wan the humbug you will save him won't you said ortenes in a beseeching tone are you very anxious that i should very in that case promised to give me your hand to kiss you can have both hands renin and gladly the night was uneventful renin had given orders for the two ladies to be waked at an early hour when they came to down the motor was leaving the yard and pulling up in front of the inn it was raining and a dove the chauffeur had fixed up the long low hood and packed the luggage inside renin called for his bill they all three took a cup of coffee but just as they were leaving the room one of the inspector's men came rushing in have you seen him he asked isn't he here the inspector himself arrived at a run greatly excited the prisoner has escaped You ran back through the inn. He can't be far away.

A dozen rustics appeared like a whirlwind. They ransacked the lofts, the stables, the sheds. They scattered over the neighborhood, but the search led to no discovery. Oh, hang at all, said Renin, who had taken his part in the hunt. How can it have happened? How do I know? Spluttered the inspector in despair. I left my three men watching in the next room. I found them this morning fast asleep, stupefied by some narcotic which had been mixed with their wine,

and the Dalbrecht bird had flown. Which way? Through the window. There were evidently accomplices with ropes in a ladder, and as Dalbrick had a broken leg, they carried him off on the stretcher itself. They left no traces? No traces of footsteps, true. The rain has messed everything up, but they went through the yard because the stretcher's there. You'll find him, Mr. Inspector. There's no doubt of that. In any case, you may be sure that you won't have any trouble over the affair.

I shall be in Paris this evening, and she'll go straight to the prefecture, where I have influential friends. Renin went back to the two women in the coffee-room, and Lortense at once said, It was you who carried him off, wasn't it? Please put Rosandre's mind at rest. She is so terrified. He gave Rosandre his arm and led her to the car. She was staggering, and he was staggering, and he was. very pale, and she said in a faint voice,

"'Are we going? And he—is he safe? Won't they catch him again?' Looking deep into her eyes, he said, swear to me, Rosandre, that in two months, when he is well and when I have proved his innocence, swear that you will go away with him to America. I swear. And that once there you will marry him. I swear.' He spoke a few words in her ear. Oh, she said, may heaven bless you for it. Ortenes took her seat in front with Renin, who sat at the wheel. The inspector, hat in hand, fussed around the car until it moved off.

They drove through the forest, crossed the Senat La Maireire and struck into the Avre Ruin Road. Take off your glove and give me your hand to kiss, Renin ordered. You promised that you would. Oh, said Ortenes, but it was to be when Dalbrecht was saved. He is saved. Not yet. The police are after him. They may catch him again.

He will not be really saved until he is with Rosandre. He is with Rosandre, he declared. What do you mean? Turn round. She did so. In the shadow of the hood, right at the back, behind the chauffeur, Rosandre was kneeling beside a man lying on the seat. oh stammered octanes it's incredible then it was you who hit him last night and he was there in front of the inn when the inspector was seeing us off lord yes he was there under the cushions and rugs

it's incredible she repeated utterly bewildered it's incredible how are you able to manage it all i wanted to kiss your hand he said she removed her glove as he bade her and raised her hand to his lips the car was speeding between the peaceful sen and the white cliffs that border it they sat silent for a long while then he said i had a talk with dalbrick last night he's a fine fellow and is ready to do anything for rosandre he's right a man must do anything for the woman he loves he must devote himself to her offer her all that is beautiful in this world joy and happiness and if she should be bored stirring adventures to distract her, to excite her and to make her smile, or even weep. Ortenes shivered, and her eyes were not quite free from tears. For the first time he was alluding

to the sentimental adventure that bound them by a tie which as yet was frail, but which became stronger and more enduring with each of the adventures on which they entered together, pursuing them feverishly and anxiously to their clothes. Already she felt powerless and uneasy with his extraordinary man, who subjected events to his will, and seemed to play with the destinies of those whom he fought or protected. He filled her with dread, and at the same time he attracted her. She thought of him sometimes as her master, sometimes as an enemy against whom she must defend herself, but oftenest as a perturbing friend, full of charm and fascination. End of Chapter 4

Chapter 5 of the Eight Strokes of the Clock This Libervox recording is in the public domain The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Leblanc. Chapter 5 Therese and Germain The weather was so mild that autumn That on the 12th of October in the morning Several families still lingering in their villas at Etreta

Had gone down to the beach The sea lying between the cliffs and the clouds on the horizon might have suggested a mountain lake slumbering in the hollow of the enclosing rocks were it not for that crispness in the air and those pale, soft and indefinite colors in the sky which give a special charm to certain days in Normandy. It's delicious, murmured Ortenes. But the next moment she added, all the same, we did not come here to enjoy the spectacle of nature or to wonder whether that huge stone needle on our left was really at one time the home of Arsene Lupin.

We came here, said Prince Regin, because of the conversation which I overheard a fortnight ago in a dining-car between a man and a woman. A conversation of which I was unable to catch a single word. If those two people could have guessed for an instant that it was possible to hear a single word of what they were saying, they would not have spoken, for their conversation was one of extraordinary gravity and importance. But I have very sharp ears, and though I could not follow every sentence, I insist that we may be certain of two things. First, that man and woman, who are brother and sister, have an appointment at a quarter to twelve this morning, the 12th of October,

at the spot known as the Tro Matzre, with a third person who is married and who wishes at all costs to recover his or her liberty. Secondly, this appointment, at which they will come to a final agreement, is to be followed this evening by a walk along the cliffs, when the third person will bring with him or her the man or woman, I can't definitely say which, whom they want to get rid of. That is the gist of the whole thing. Now, as I know a spot called the Tro-Metz-Hil some way above and as this is not an everyday name, we came down yesterday to thwart the plan of these objectionable persons. What plan? asked Ortenes, for after all it's only your assumption that there's to be a victim

and that the victim is to be flung off the top of the cliffs. You yourself told me that you heard no allusion to a possible murder. That is so, but I heard some very plain words relating to the marriage of the brother or the sister with the wife or the husband of the husband of the murder. That is so, but I heard some very plain words relating to the marriage of the brother or the sister, with the wife or the husband of the third person, which implies the need for a crime. They were sitting on the terrace of the casino, facing the stairs which run down to the beach. They therefore overlooked the few privately owned cabins on the shingle, where a party of four men were playing bridge while a group of ladies sat talking and knitting. A short distance away and nearer to the sea was another cabin, standing by itself and closed.

half a dozen bare-legged children were paddling in the water no said ortenes all this autumnal sweetness and charm fails to attract me i have so much faith in all your theories that i can't help thinking in spite of everything of this dreadful problem which of those people yonder is threatened death has already selected its victim who is it is it that young fair-haired woman rocking herself and laughing is it that tall man over there smoking his cigar, and which of them has the thought of murder hidden in his heart? All the people we see are quietly enjoying themselves, yet death is prowling among them. Capital, said Rinan, you too are becoming enthusiastic. What did I tell you? The whole of life's an adventure, and nothing but adventure, is worthwhile. At the first breath of coming events, there you are, quivering in every nerve. You share in all the tragedies stirring around you, and the feeling of mystery awakens in the depths of your being.

See how closely you are observing that couple who have just arrived? You never can tell. That may be the gentleman who proposes to do away with his wife, or perhaps the lady contemplates making away with her husband. The Dormervais? Never. A perfectly happy couple. Yesterday at the hotel I had a long talk with the wife. You yourself?

Oh, I played a round of golf. was Jacques D'ormeval, who rather fancies himself as an athlete, and I played at dolls with their two charming little girls. The D'ormevales came up and exchanged a few words with them. Madame D'ormeval said that her two daughters had gone back to Paris that morning with their governess. Her husband, a great tall fellow with a yellow beard, carrying his blazer over his arm and puffing out his chest under a cellular shirt, complained of the heat. "'Have you the key of the cabin, Therese?' he asked his wife, when they had left Renin and Ortenes, and stopped at the top of the stairs a few yards away. Here it is, said the wife. Are you going to read your papers?

Yes, unless we go for a stroll. I'd rather wait till the afternoon. Do you mind? I have a lot of letters to write this morning. Very well, we'll go on the cliff. Ortenes and Renin exchanged a glance of surprise. Was this suggestion accidental, or had they before them, contrary to their expectations, the very couple of whom they were in search. Ortenes tried to laugh. My heart is thumping, she said.

Nevertheless, I absolutely refuse to believe in anything so improbable. My husband and I have never had the slightest quarrel, she said to me. No, it's quite clear that those two get on admirably. We shall see presently, at the Tro-Mazil, if one of them comes to meet, the brother and sister. Mr. D'ormeval had gone down the stairs, while his wife stood leaning on the balustrade of the terrace. She had a beautiful, slender, supple figure.

Her clear-cut profile was emphasized by a rather too prominent chin when at rest, and when it was not smiling, the face gave an expression of sadness and suffering. "'Have you lost something, Jacques?' she called out to her husband, who was stooping over the shingle. yes the key he said it slipped out of my hand she went down to him and began to look also for two or three minutes as they sheared off to the right and remained close to the bottom of the under cliff they were invisible to ortens and their voices were covered by the noise of a dispute which had arisen among the bridge players they reappeared almost simultaneously madame d'armavale slowly climbed a few steps of the stairs and then stopped and turned her face to work

the sea. Her husband had thrown his blazer over his shoulders and was making for the isolated cabin. As he passed the bridge players, they asked him for a decision, pointing to their cards spread out upon the table, but with a wave of the hand he refused to give an opinion and walked on, covered the 30 yards which divided them from the cabin, opened the door and went in. Terese Dormeval came back to the terrace and remained for ten minutes sitting on a bench, she came out through the casino. O'Tains, on leaning forward, saw her entering one of the chalets annexed to the Hotel O'Ville, and a moment later caught sight of her again on the balcony. Eleven o'clock, said Renin. Whoever it is, he or she, or one of the card players, or one of their

wives, it won't be long before someone goes to the appointed place. Nevertheless, twenty minutes passed, and twenty-five, and no one stirred. perhaps madame d'ormeval has gone ortenes suggested anxiously she is no longer on her balcony if she is at the tromotilde said renin in we will go and catch her there he was rising to his feet when a fresh discussion broke out among the bridge players and one of them exclaimed let's put it to dormeval very well said his adversary i'll accept his decision if he consents to act as umpire he was rather huffy just now They called out, Dormeval, Dormeval. They then saw that Dormeval must have shut the door behind him, which kept him in the half-dark,

the cabin being one of the sort that has no window. He's asleep, cried one. Let's wake him up. All four went to the cabin, began by calling to him, and, on receiving no answer, thumped on the door. Hi, Dormeval, are you asleep? On the terrace, Serge Renin suddenly leapt to his feet with so uneasy in air that Ortenes was astonished.

He muttered, if only it's not too late. And when Ortenes asked him what he meant, he tore down the steps and started running to the cabin. He reached it just as the bridge players were trying to break in the door. Stop, he ordered. Things must be done in the regular fashion. What things? they asked. he examined the venetian shutters at the top of each of the folding doors and on finding that one of the upper slats was partly broken hung on as best he could to the roof of the cabin and cast a glance inside then he said to the four men i was right in thinking that if m d'ormeval did not reply he must have been prevented by some serious cause there is every reason to believe that m d'ormeval is wounded or dead

dead they cried what do you mean he has only just left us rennard took out his knife prized open the lock and pulled back the two doors there were shouts of dismay m d'arméval was lying flat on his face clutching his jacket and his newspaper in his hands blood was flowing from his back and staining his shirt oh said some one he has killed himself How can he have killed himself? said Renin. The wound is right in the middle of the back, at a place which the hand can't reach. And besides, there's not a knife in the cabin. The others protested. If so, he has been murdered. But that's impossible. There's been nobody here. We should have seen, if there had been. Nobody could have passed us without our seeing. The other men, all the ladies and the children paddling in the sea, had come running up. renin allowed no one to enter the cabin except a doctor who was present but the doctor could only say that m d'armavale was dead stabbed with a dagger at that moment the mayor and the policeman arrived together with some people of the village after the usual inquiries they carried away the body

a few persons went on ahead to break the news to teres d'ormeval who was once more to be seen on her balcony and so the tragedy had taken place without any clue to explain how a man, protected by a closed door with an uninjured lock, could have been murdered in the space of a few minutes, and in front of twenty witnesses, one might almost say twenty spectators. No one had entered the cabin. No one had come out of it. As for the dagger with which Mr. D'ormeval had been stabbed between the shoulders, it could not be traced. And all this would have suggested the idea of a trick of sleight of hand performed by a clever conjurer, had it not concerned a terrible murder, committed under the most mysterious conditions. Ortenes was unable to follow, as Renin would have liked, the small party who were making for Madame

D'arméval. She was paralyzed with excitement and incapable of moving. It was the first time that her adventures with Renin had taken her into the very heart of the action, and that instead of Noting the consequences of a murder, or assisting in the pursuit of the criminals, she found herself confronted with the murder itself. It left her trembling all over, and she stammered, Oh, horrible! Poor fellow! Oh, Renin, you couldn't save him this time!

And that's what upsets me more than anything that we could and should have saved him, since we knew of the plot. Rinen made her sniff at a bottle of salts, and, when she had quite recovered her composure, he said, while observing her attentively, so you think that there is some connection between the murder and the plot which we were trying to frustrate? Certainly, said she, astonished at the question. Then, as that plot was hatched by a husband against his wife, or by a wife against her

husband, you admit that Madame D'Armeval... Oh, no, impossible, she said. To begin with, Madame D'ormeval did not leave her husband. her rooms, and then I shall never believe that pretty woman capable. No, no, of course there was something else. What else? I don't know. You may have misunderstood what the brother and sister was saying to each other.

You see, the murder has been committed under quite different conditions, at another hour and another place. And therefore, concluded Renin, the two cases are not in any way related. Oh, she said, there is no making it out. It's all so strange. Renin became a little satirical. My pupil is doing me no credit today, he said. Why, here's a perfectly simple story unfolded before your eyes.

You have seen it reeled off like a scene in the cinema, and it all remains as obscure to you as though you were hearing of an affair that happened in a cave a hundred miles away. Ortenz was confounded. What are you saying? Do you mean that you have understood it? "'What clues have you to go by?' Renin looked at his watch. "'I have not understood everything,' he said.

"'The murder itself, the mere brutal murder, yes. "'But the essential thing, that is to say, the psychology of the crime, "'I've no clue to that. "'Only it is twelve o'clock. "'The brother and sister, seeing no one come to the appointment at the Tro-Met-Sille, "'will go down to the beach. "'Don't you think that we shall learn something, then, "'of the accomplice whom I accuse them of having,

and of the connection between the two cases they reached the esplanade in front of the auville chalais with the capstanes by which the fishermen haul up their boats to the beach a number of inquisitive persons were standing outside the door of one of the chalais two coast guards posted at the door prevented them from entering the mayor shouldered his way eagerly through the crowd he was back from the post-office where he had been telephoning to la ave to the office to the office of the procurator-general and had been told that the public prosecutor and an examining magistrate would come on to Etre-Tat in the course of the afternoon. That leaves us plenty of time for lunch, said Renin. The tragedy will not be enacted before two or three o'clock, and I have an idea that it will be sensational. They hurried nevertheless. Ortenes, overwrought by fatigue and her desire to know what was happening, continually questioned Renin, who replied evasively, with his eyes turned to the esplanade, which they could see through the wind. of the coffee-room are you watching for those two asked Ortenes yes the brother and sister are you sure that they will venture look out here they come he went out quickly

where the main street opened on the sea-front a lady and gentlemen were advancing with hesitating steps as though unfamiliar with the place the brother was a puny little man with a sallow complexion he was wearing a motoring cap the sister too was short but rather stout and was wrapped in a large cloak. She struck them as a woman of a certain age, but still good-looking under the thin veil that covered her face. They saw the group of bystanders and drew nearer. Their gait betrayed uneasiness and hesitation. The sister asked a question of a seaman. At the first words of his answer, which no doubt conveyed the news of Dormeval's death, she uttered a cry and tried to force her way through the crowd. The brother, learning in his turn, what had happened, made great play with his elbows and shouted to the coast guards, I'm a friend of Dormeval's. Here's my card, Frederic Astin. My sister, Germain,

knows Madame Dormeval intimately. They were expecting us. We had an appointment. They were allowed to pass. Renin, who had slipped behind them, followed them in without a word, accompanied by Ortenes. The Dormovals had four bedrooms in a sitting-room on the second floor. The sister rushed into one of the rooms and threw herself on her knees beside the bed on which the corpse lay stretched. Terese D'ormova was in the sitting-room

and was sobbing in the midst of a small company of silent persons. The brother sat down beside her, eagerly seized her hands and said, in a trembling voice, My poor friend, My poor friend! Renin and Ortens

gazed at the pair of them, and Ortein's, whispered, "'She's supposed to have killed him for that? Impossible.' "'Nevertheless,' observed Renin, "'they are acquaintances, and we know that Astin and his sister were also acquainted with a third person who was their accomplice, so that—' "'It's impossible,' Ortenes repeated. And in spite of all presumption, she felt so much attracted by Therese that when Frederick Astin

stood up, she proceeded straightway to her. sit down beside her and consoled her in a gentle voice. The unhappy woman's tears distressed her profoundly. Renin, on the other hand, applied himself from the outset to watching the brother and sister, as though this were the only thing that mattered and did not take his eyes off Frederic Astin, who, with an air of indifference, began to make a minute inspection of the premises, examining the sitting-room, going into all the bedrooms, mingling with the various groups of persons present and asking questions about the manner in which the murder had been committed. Twice his sister came up and spoke to him. Then he went back to Madame Dormaveal and

again sat down beside her, full of earnest sympathy. Lastly, in the lobby, he had a long conversation with his sister, after which they departed, like people who have come to a perfect understanding. Frederick then left. These manoeuvres had lasted quite thirty or forty minutes. it was at this moment that the motor-car containing the examining magistrate and the public prosecutor pulled up outside the chalais rennien who did not expect them until later said to ortens we must be quick on no account leave madame d'armieval word was sent up to the persons whose evidence might be of any service that they were to go to the beach where the magistrate was beginning a preliminary investigation he would call on madame dormival afterwards accordingly all who were present left the chalet no one remained behind except the two guards and jermain estin germain knelt down for the last time beside the dead man and bending low with her face in her hands prayed for a long time then she rose and was opening the door on the landing when renin came forward i should like a few words with you madame she seemed surprised and replied what is it monsieur i am listening not here where then monsieur next door in the sitting-room no she said sharply why not though you did not even shake hands with her i presume that madame d'armavale is your friend

He gave her no time to reflect, drew her into the next room, closed the door, and, at once, pouncing upon Madame d'arméval, who was trying to go out and return to her own room, said, No, Madame, listen, I implore you. Madame Estin's presence need not drive you away. We have very serious matters to discuss, without losing a minute. The two women, standing face to face, were looking at each other with the same expression of implacable hatred, in which might be read the same confusion of spirit and the same restrained anger. Ortenes, who believed them to be friends, and who might, up to a certain point, have believed them to be accomplices, foresaw with terror the hostile encounter which she felt to be inevitable.

She compelled Madame d'armavale to resume her seat, while Renin took up his position in the middle of the room, and spoke in resolute tones. Chance, which has placed me in possession of part of the truth, will enable me to save you both, if you are willing to assist me with the frank explanation that will give me the particulars which I still need. Each of you knows the danger in which she stands, because each of you is conscious in her heart of the evil for which she is responsible, but you are carried away by hatred, and it is for me to see clearly and to act. The examining magistrate will be here in half an hour. By that time you must have come to an agreement. They both started, as though offended by such a

word. Yes, an agreement, he repeated, in a more imperious tone. Whether you like it or not, you will come to an agreement. You are not the only ones to be considered. There are your two little daughters, Madame d'Aumaval. Since circumstances have set me in their path, I am intervening in their defence and for their safety. A blunder, a word too much, and they are ruined. That must not happen. At the mention of her children, Madame D'Ameneval broke down and sobbed. Germain Astin shrugged her shoulders and made a movement towards the door. Renin once more blocked the way.

Where are you going? I have been summoned by the examining magistrate. No, you have not? Yes, I have. Just as all those have been who have any evidence to give. You were not on the spot. You know nothing of what happened. Nobody knows anything of the murder.

I know who committed it. That's impossible. it was teres d'ormeval the accusation was hurled forth in an outburst of rage and with a fiercely threatening gesture you wretched creature exclaimed madame d'armivelle rushing at her go leave the room oh what a wretch the woman is ortenes was trying to restrain her but renin whispered let them be it's what i wanted to pitch them one against the other and so to let in the daylight madame estin had made a convulsive effort to ward off the insult with a jest and she sniggered a wretched creature why because i have accused you why for every reason you're a wretched creature you hear what i say jermaine you're a wretch you're a wretch Therese D'ormavein was repeating the insult as though it afforded her some relief. Her anger was abating. Very likely also she no longer had the strength to keep up the struggle,

and it was Madame Astin who returned to the attack, with her fists clenched and her face distorted and suddenly aged by fully twenty years. You! You dare to insult me! You! You, after the murder you have committed! You dare to lift up your head when the man whom you killed is lying in there on his deathbed. Oh, if one of us is a wretched creature,

it's you, Therese, and you know it. You have killed your husband. You have killed your husband. She leapt forward in the excitement of the terrible words which she was uttering, and her fingernails were almost touching her friend's face. Oh, don't tell me you didn't kill him, she cried. Don't say that.

I won't let you. Don't say it. The dagger is there in your bag. My brother felt it while he was talking to you. and his hand came out with the stains of blood upon it your husband's blood teres and then even if i had not discovered anything do you think that i should not have guessed in the first few minutes why i knew the truth at once teres when a sailor down there answered mr domavelle he has been murdered i said to myself then and there it's she it's teres she killed him teres did not reply she had abandoned her attitude of protest orthens who was watching her with anguish thought that she could perceive in her the despondency of those who know themselves to be lost her cheeks had fallen in and she wore such an expression of despair that ortens moved to compassion implored her to defend herself please please explain things when the murder was committed you were here on the balcony but then the dagger how did you come to have it how do you explain it

explanations sneered germain ashton how could she possibly explain what do outward appearances matter what does it matter what any one saw or did not see the proof is the thing that tells the dagger is there in your bag teres that's a fact yes yes it was you who did it you killed him you killed him in the end oh how often i've told my brother she will kill him yet frederick used to try to defend you you you always you did it you killed him in the end oh how often i've told my brother she will kill him yet frederick used to try to defend you you always had a weakness for you, but in its innermost heart he foresaw what would happen, and now the horrible thing has been done. A stab in the back! Coward! Coward! And you would have me say nothing? Why, I didn't hesitate a moment, nor did Frederik. We looked for proofs at once, and I've denounced you of my own free will, perfectly well aware of what I was doing. And it's over, Therese. You're done for. Nothing can save you now. The dagger is in that bag, which is you are clutching in your hand. The magistrate is coming, and the dagger will be found,

stained with the blood of your husband. So will your pocket-book. They're both there, and they will be found. Her rage had incensed her so vehemently that she was unable to continue, and stood with her hand outstretched, and her chin twitching with nervous tremors. Renin gently took hold of Madame D'ormeval's bag. She clung to it, but he insisted and said, please allow me, madame, your friend Germain is right. The examining magistrate will be here presently, and the fact that the dagger and the pocket-book are in your possession will lead to your immediate arrest.

This must not happen. Please allow me. His insinuating voice diminished Therese D'omavelle's resistance. She released her fingers, one by one. He took the bag, opened it, produced a little dagger with an ebony handle and a grey-leather pocket-book, and quietly slipped the two into the inside pocket of his jacket. Germain estin gazed at him in amazement.

You're mad, monsieur! What right of you! These things must not be left lying about. I shan't worry now. The magistrate will never look for them in my pocket. But I shall denounce you to the police, she exclaimed indignantly. They shall be told. No, no, he said laughing.

You won't say, yes. anything. The police have nothing to do with this. The quarrel between you must be settled in private. What an idea to go dragging the police into every incident of one's life. Madame Estin was choking with fury. But you have no right to talk like this, monsieur. Who are you, after all? A friend of that woman's? Since you have been attacking her, yes. But I'm only attacking her because she's guilty, for you can't deny it. She has killed her husband. i don't deny it said renin calmly we are all agreed on that point jacques d'arméval was killed by his wife but i repeat the police must not know the truth they shall know it through me monsieur i swear they shall that woman must be punished she has committed murder

renn went up to her and touching her on the shoulder you asked me just now by what right i was interfering and you yourself madame i was a friend of jacques d'armelval only a friend she was a little taken aback but at once pulled herself together and replied i was his friend and it is my duty to avenge his death nevertheless you will remain silent as he did he did not know when he died that's where you are wrong he could have accused his wife if he had wished he had ample time to accuse her and he said nothing why because of his children madame estin was not appeased and her attitude displayed the same longing for revenge and the same detestation but she was influenced by renin in spite of herself in the small closed room where there was such a clash of hatred he was gradually becoming the master and germain astin understood that it was against him that she had to struggle while madame d'ormeval felt all the comfort of that unexpected support which was offering itself on the brink of the abyss thank you monsieur she said as you have seen all this so clearly you also know that it was for my children's sake that i did not give myself up but for that i am so tired and so the scene was changing and things assuming a different aspect thanks to a few words let fall in the midst of the dispute the culprit was lifting her head and taking heart whereas her accuser was hesitating and seemed to be uneasy and it also came about that the accuser dared not say anything further and that the culprit was nearing the moment at which the need is felt of breaking silence and of speaking quite naturally words that are at once a confession and a relief

the time i think has come said renin to teres with the same unvarying gentleness when you can and ought to explain yourself she was again weeping lying huddled in a chair she too revealed a face aged and ravaged by sorrow and in a very low voice with no display of anger she spoke in short broken sentences she has been his mistress for the last four years i can't tell you how i suffered she herself told me of it out of sheer wickedness her loathing for me was even greater than her love for jacques and every day i had suffered she herself told me of it out of sheer wickedness her loathing for me was even greater than her love for jacques and every day i had suffered her own some fresh injury to bear. She would ring me up to tell me of her appointments with my husband. She hoped to make me suffer so much I should end by killing myself. I did think of it sometimes, but I held out, for the children's sake. Jacques was weakening. She wanted him to get a divorce, and little by little he began to consent, dominated by her and by her brother, who was slyer than she is, but quite as dangerous. I felt all this. Jacques was becoming harsh to me,

he had not the courage to leave me, but I was the obstacle, and he bore me a grudge. Heavens, the tortures I suffered! You should have given him his liberty, cried Germain Astin. A woman doesn't kill her husband for wanting a divorce? Teret shook her head and answered, I did not kill him because he wanted a divorce. If he had really, wanted it, he would have left me, and what could I have done? But your plans had changed, Germain. Divorce was not enough for you, and it was something else that you would have obtained from him, another much more serious thing which you and your brother had insisted on, and to which he

had consented, out of cowardice, in spite of himself. What do you mean? spluttered Germain. What other thing? My death. You lie, cried Madame Astin. Terese did not raise her voice. She made not a movement of aversion or indignation, and simply repeated. My death, Germain. I have read your latest letters, six letters from you which he was foolish enough to leave about in his pocket-book, in which I read last night,

six letters in which the terrible word is not set down, but in which it appears between every line. I trembled as I read it. that shock should come to this. Nevertheless, the idea of stabbing him did not occur to me for a second. A woman like myself, Germain, does not readily commit murder. If I lost my head, it was after that, and it was your fault. She turned her eyes to Renin, as if to ask him if there was no danger in her speaking and revealing the truth. Don't be afraid, he said. I will be answerable for everything. She drew her hand across her forehead.

The horrible scene was being re-enacted within her, and was torturing her. Germain Astin did not move, but stood with folded arms and anxious eyes, while Ortenes-Dagnel sat distractedly, awaiting the confession of the crime, the explanation of the unfathomable mystery. It was after that, and it was through your fault, Germain. I had put back the pocket-book in the drawer where it was hidden, and I said nothing, to Jacques this morning. I did not want to tell him what I knew. It was too horrible. All the same I had to act quickly. Your letters announced your secret arrival today. I thought at first of

running away, of taking the train. I had mechanically picked up that dagger to defend myself. But when Jacques and I went down to the beach, I was resigned. Yes, I had accepted death. I will die, I thought, and put an end to all this nightmare. Only for the children's sake I I was anxious that my death should look like an accident, and that Jacques should have no part in it. That was why your plan of a walk on the cliff suited me. A fall from the top of a cliff seems quite natural. Jacques, therefore, left me to go to his cabin, from which he was to join you later at the Tro-Met-Cil. On the way, below the terrace, he dropped the key of the cabin. I went down and began to look for it with him. And it happened then, through your fault. Yes, Cherman,

through your fault. Jacques's pocket-book had slipped from his jacket without his noticing it, and together with the pocket-book, a photograph which I recognized at once, a photograph taken this year of myself and my two children. I picked it up, and I saw. You know what I saw, Germain. Instead of my face, the face in the photograph was yours. You had put in your likeness, Germain, and blotted me out. It was your form. It was your face. face. One of your arms was round my elder daughter's neck, and the younger was sitting on your knees. It was you, Germain, the wife of my husband, the future mother of my children, you who were going to bring them up. You, you! Then I lost my head. I had a dagger. Jacques

was stooping. I stabbed him. Every word of her confession was strictly true. Those who listened to her felt this profoundly, and nothing could have given Nortense and Réns. in a keener impression of tragedy. She had fallen back into her chair, utterly exhausted. Nevertheless, she went on speaking unintelligible words, and it was only gradually by leaning over her that they were able to make out. I thought that there would be an outcry that I should be arrested. But no, it happened in such a way and under such circumstances that no one had seen anything. Further, Jacques had drawn himself up at the same time as myself, and he actually did not fall. No, he did not fall. I had stabbed him, and he remained standing. I saw him from the terrace,

to which I had returned. He had hung his jacket over his shoulders, evidently to hide his wound, and he moved away without staggering, or staggering so little that I alone was able to perceive it. He even spoke to some friends who were playing cards. Then he went to his can, and he went to his cabin and disappeared. In a few moments I came back indoors. I was persuaded that all of this was only a bad dream, that I had not killed him, or that at the worst the wound was a slight one. Jacques would come out again. I was certain of it. I watched him from my balcony. If I thought for a moment that he needed assistance, I should have flown to him. But truly I didn't know. I didn't guess. People speak of presentiments. There are no such things. I was perfectly calm. I was perfectly

calm, just as one is after a nightmare of which the memory is fading away. No, I swear to you, I knew nothing. Until the moment... She interrupted herself, stifled by sobs. Renin finished her sentence for her. Until the moment when they came and told you, I suppose. Terey stammered, Yes, it was not till then that I...

I was conscious of what I had done, and I felt that I was going mad and that I should cry out to all those people. Why, it was I who did it. Don't search. Here's the dagger. I'm the culprit. Yes, I was going to say that when suddenly I caught sight of my poor Jacques. They were carrying him along. His face was very peaceful, very gentle. And in his presence I understood my duty, as he had understood his. He had kept silent for the sake of the children. I would be silent, too. We were. were both guilty of the murder of which he was the victim, and we must both do all we could to prevent the crime from recoiling upon them. He had seen this clearly in his dying agony.

He had had the amazing courage to keep his feet, to answer the people who spoke to him, and to lock himself up to die. He had done this, wiping out all his faults with a single action, and in so doing had granted me his forgiveness, because he was not accusing me, and was ordering me to hold my peace and to defend myself against everybody, especially against you, Jean-Men. She uttered these last words more firmly. At first, wholly overwhelmed by the unconscious act which she had committed in killing her husband, she had recovered her strength a little in thinking of what she had done and in defending herself with such energy. Faced by the intriguing woman whose hatred had driven both of them to death and crime,

she clenched her fists ready for the struggle, all quivering with resolution. Germainastain did not flinch. She had listened without a word, with a relentless expression which grew harder and harder, as Teresa's confessions became precise. No emotion seemed to soften her, and no remorse to penetrate her being. At most, towards the end, her thin lips shaped themselves into a faint smile. She was holding her prey in her clutches. slowly with her eyes raised to a mirror she adjusted her hat and powdered her face then she walked to the door teres darted forward

where are you going where i choose to see the examining magistrate very likely you shan't pass as you please i'll wait for him here and you'll tell him what why all that you've said of course all that you've been silly in a-and to say. How could he doubt the story? You have explained it all to me so fully.' Teres took her by the shoulders. "'Yes, but I'll explain other things to him at the same time, Germain, things that concern you. If I'm ruined, so shall you be.' "'You can't touch me. I can expose you, show your letters.' "'What letters? Those in which my death was decided on?' "'Lies, Therese. You know, you know.

that famous plot exists only in your imagination neither jacques nor i wished for your death you did at any rate your letters condemn you lies they were letters of a friend to a friend letters of a mistress to her paramour prove it they are there in jacques pocket-book no they're not what's that you say i say that those letters belonged to me i've taken them back or rather my brother has you've stolen them you wretch and you shall give them back again cried teres shaking her i haven't them my brother kept them he is gone teres staggered and stretched out her hands to renin with an expression of despair renin said what she says is true i watched the brother's proceedings while he was feeling in your bag he took out the pocket-book looked through it with his sister came and put it back again and went off with the letters renan paused and added or at least with five of them the two women moved closer to him what did he intend to convey if frederick estin had taken away only five letters what had become of the sixth i suppose said renin that when the pocket-book fell on the shingle that sixth letter slipped out at the same time as the photograph and that m d'armavale must have picked it up for i found it in the pocket of his blazer which had been hung up near the bed here it is it signed jermain and it is quite enough to prove the writer's intentions and the murderous counsels which she was pressing upon her lover madame astin had turned grey in the face and was so much disconcerted that she did not try to defend herself renn continued addressing his remarks to her to my mind madame you are responsible for all that happened penniless no doubt and at the end of your resources you tried to profit by the passion with which you inspired m d'ormeval in order to make him marry you in spite of all the obstacles and to lay your hands upon his fortune i have proofs of this greed for money and these abominable calculations and can supply them if need be a few minutes after i had felt in the pocket of that jacket you did the same i had removed the six

letter, but had left a slip of paper which you looked for eagerly, and which also must have dropped out of the pocket-book. It was an uncrossed cheque for a hundred thousand francs, drawn by Monsieur d'Armeval in your brother's name. Just a little wedding present, what we might call pin money. Acting on your instructions, your brother dashed off by motor to Le Havre to reach the bank before four o'clock. I may as well tell you that he will not have cashed the cheque, for I have had a telephone message sent to the bank to announce the murder of Mr. D'Ammerval, which stops all payments. The upshot of all this is that the police, if you persist in your schemes of revenge, will have in their hands all the proofs that are wanted against you and your brother.

I might add, as an edifying piece of evidence, the story of the conversation which I overheard between your brother and yourself, in a dining-car on the railway between Brest and Paris, a fortnight ago. But I feel sure that you will not drive me to you. to adopt these extreme measures, and that we understand each other. Isn't that so? Natures like Madame Estes, which are violent and headstrong, so long as a fight as possible, and while a gleam of hope remains, are easily swayed in defeat. Germain was too intelligent not to grasp the fact that the least attempt at resistance would be shattered by such an adversary as this. She was in his hands. She could but yield.

She therefore did not divulge in any play-acting, nor in any demonstration such as threats, outbursts of fury or hysterics. She bowed. We are agreed, she said. What are your terms? Go away. If ever you are called upon for your evidence, say that you know nothing. She walked away.

At the door she hesitated, and then between her teeth said, The check. Rennin looked at Madame's name. D'ormaval, who declared, Let her keep it. I would not touch that money. When Renin had given Therese D'ormeval precise instructions as to how she was to behave, at the inquiry and to answer the questions put to her, he left the chalet, accompanied by Ortens-Dagnel.

On the beach below, the magistrate and the public prosecutor were continuing their investigations, taking measurements, examining the witnesses, and generally laying their heads together. "'When I think,' said Ortenes, "'that you have the dagger "'and Madame d'ormavard's pocket-book on you.' "'And it strikes you as awfully dangerous, I suppose,' "'he said, laughing.

"'It strikes me as awfully comic.' "'Aren't you afraid?' "'Of what? "'That they may suspect something.' "'Lord, they won't suspect a thing. "'We shall tell those good people what we saw, "'and our evidence will only increase their perplexity, "'for we saw nothing at all.'

for prudence sake we will stay a day or two to see which way the wind is blowing but it's quite settled they will never be able to make head or tail of the matter nevertheless you guessed the secret and from the first why because instead of seeking difficulties where none exist as people generally do i always put the question as it should be put and the solution comes quite naturally a man goes to his cabin and locks himself in half an hour later he is found inside, dead. No one has gone in. What has happened? To my mind there is only one answer. There is no need to think about it. As the murder was not committed in the cabin, it must have been committed beforehand, and the man was already mortally wounded when he entered his cabin. And forthwith, the truth in this particular case appeared to me. Madame Jean Mervat, who was to have been killed this evening, forestalled her murderers, and while her husband was stooping to the ground, in a moment of friend,

he stabbed him in the back. There was nothing left to do but look for the reasons that prompted her action. When I knew them, I took her part unreservedly. That's the whole story. The day was beginning to wane. The blue of the sky was becoming darker, and the sea even more peaceful than before. What are you thinking of? asked Ren, after a moment. I am thinking, she said, that if I too were the victim of some machination. I should trust you whatever happened. Trust you through and against all. I know as certainly as I know that I exist, that you would save me, whatever the obstacles might be. There is no limit to the power of your will. He said very softly, There is no limit to my wish to please you. End of Chapter 5.

Chapter 6 of the Eight Strokes of the Clock This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Leblanc. Chapter 6 The Lady with the Hatchet One of the most incomprehensible incidents that preceded the Great War was certainly the one which was known as the episode of the Lady with the Hatchet. The solution of the mystery was unknown and would know

have been known had not circumstances in the cruelest fashion obliged prince renin or should i say arson lupin to take up the matter and had i not been able to-day to tell the true story from the details supplied by him let me recite the facts in a space of eighteen months five women disappeared five women of different stations in life all between twenty and thirty years of age and living in paris or the Paris district. I will give their names, Madame Ladoux, the wife of a doctor, Mademoiselle Arden, the daughter of a banker, Mademoiselle Coveau, a washerwoman of Corbevois, Mademoiselle Honourine Vernice, a dressmaker, and Madame Grollinger, an artist. These five women disappeared without the possibility of discovering a single particular to explain why they had left their homes, why they did not return to. to them, who had enticed them away, and where and how they were detained.

Each of these women, a week after her departure, was found somewhere or other in the western outskirts of Paris, and each time it was a dead body that was found, the dead body of a woman who had been killed by a blow on the head from a hatchet, and each time, not far from the woman who was firmly bound, her face covered with blood and her body emaciated by lack of food, The marks of carriage wheels proved that the corpse had been driven to the spot. The five murders were so much alike that there was only a single investigation, embracing all the five inquiries, and, for that matter, leading to no result. A woman disappeared, a week later, to a day, her body was discovered, and that was all.

The bonds that fastened her were similar in each case. So were the tracks left by the wheels. so were the blows of the hatchet, all of which were struck vertically at the top and right in the middle of the forehead. The motive of the crime? The five women had been completely stripped of their jewels, purses, and other objects of value, but the robberies might well have been attributed to marauders or any passers-by, since the bodies were lying in deserted spots. Were the authorities to believe in the execution of a plan of revenge, or of a plan intended to do away with the sea? series of persons mutually connected, persons, for instance, likely to benefit by a future inheritance.

Here again the same obscurity prevailed. Theories were built up only to be demolished forthwith by an examination of the facts. Trails were followed and at once abandoned. And suddenly there was a sensation. A woman engaged in sweeping the roads picked up on the pavement a little notebook which she brought to the local police station. The leaves of this notebook were all blank, excepting one, on which was written a list of the murdered women, with their names set down in order of date and accompanied by three figures,

Ladoux, 132, Vernisse, 118, and so on. Certainly no importance would have been attached to these entries, which anybody might have written, since everyone was acquainted with the sinister list. But instead of five names, it included six. Yes, below the words Grawlinger 128, there appeared Williamson 114. Did this indicate a sixth murder? The obviously English origin of the name limited the field of the investigations, which did not in fact take long. It was ascertained that, a fortnight ago, amidst Hermione Williamson, a governess in a family at O'Toe, had left her place to go back to England, and that since then, sisters, though she had written to tell them that she was coming over, had heard no more of her.

A fresh inquiry was instituted. A postman found the body in the Mudan woods. Miss Williamson's skull was split down the middle. I need not describe the public excitement at this stage, nor the shudder of horror which passed through the crowd when it read this list, written without a doubt in the murderer's own hand. What could be more frightful than such a record kept up to date like a careful tradesman's ledger. On such a day I killed so-and-so, on such a day so-and-so, and the sum total was six dead bodies. Against all expectation, the experts in handwriting had no difficulty in agreeing, and unanimously declared that the writing was that of a woman, an educated woman possessing artistic tastes, imagination, and an extremely sensitive nature.

The Lady with the Hatchet, as the journalists christened her, was decidedly no ordinary person, and scores of newspaper articles made a special study of her case, exposing her mental condition and losing themselves in far-fetched explanations. Nevertheless, it was the writer of one of these articles, a young journalist whose chance discovery made him the centre of public attention, who supplied the one element of truth and shed upon the darkness the old woman. only ray of light that was to penetrate it. In casting about for the meaning of the figures which followed the six names, he had come to ask himself whether those figures did not simply represent the number of the days separating one crime from the next. All that he had to do was to check the dates. He had once found that his theory was correct. Mademoiselle Vernisse had been carried off

one hundred and thirty-two days after Madame Ladue, Mademoiselle Covereaux one hundred and eighteen days after Honorin-Vernice and so on. There was therefore no room for doubt, and the police had no choice but to accept a solution which so precisely fitted the circumstances. The figures corresponded with the intervals. There was no mistake in the records of the lady with the hatchet. But then one deduction became inevitable.

Miss Williamson, the latest victim, had been carried off on the 26th of June last, and her name was followed by the figures 114. Was it not to be presumed that a fresh crime would be committed 114 days later, that is to say, on the 18th of October? Was it not probable that the horrible business would be repeated, in accordance with the murderer's secret intentions? Were they not bound to pursue to its logical conclusion the argument which ascribed to the figures, to all the figures, to the last, as well as to the others, their value as eventual dates. Now, it was precisely this deduction which was drawn and was

being weighed and discussed during the few days that preceded the 18th of October, when logic demanded the performance of yet another act of the abominable tragedy. And it was only natural that, on the morning of that day, Prince Rignan and Ortens, when making an appointment by telephone for the evening, should allude to the newspaper articles, which they had both been reading. "'Ah, look out,' said Renin, laughing. "'If you meet the lady with the hatchet, "'take the other side of the road.' "'And if the good lady carries me off, what am I to do?'

"'Strew your path with little white pebbles and say, "'until the very moment when the hatchet flashes in the air, "'I have nothing to fear. He will save me. "'He is myself, and I kiss your hands. "'till this evening, my dear.' "'That afternoon, Renin had an appointment with Rosalais, and Dalbrecht to arrange for their departure for the States. Before four and seven o'clock, he bought the different editions of the evening papers. None of them reported an abduction.

At nine o'clock he went to the gymnas, where he had taken a private box. At half-past nine, as Ortenes had not arrived, he rang her up, though without thought of anxiety. The maid replied that Madame Daniel had not come in yet. Seized with a sudden fear, Renin hurried to the furnished flat which Ortenes was occupying for the time being near the Parme Morso and questioned the maid whom he had engaged for her and who was completely devoted to him. The woman said that her mistress had gone out at two o'clock with a stamped letter in her hand, saying that she was going to the post and that she would come back to dress. This was the last that had been seen of her. To whom was the letter addressed? To you, sir, I saw the writing on the envelope, Prince Serge Reninin. He waited until midnight, but in vain. Ortenes did not return, nor did she return next day. Not a word to any one, said Rinan to the maid. Say that your mistress is in the country and that you are going to join her.

For his own part, he had not a doubt. Ortenes' disappearance was explained by the very fact of the date the 18th of October. She was the seventh victim of the lady with the hatchet. The abduction, said Rinan to himself, precedes the blow of the hatchet by a week. I have therefore, at the present moment, seven full days before me. Let us say six, to avoid any surprise. This is Saturday. Elten's must be set free by midday on Friday, and to make sure of this I must know her

hiding-place by nine o'clock on Thursday evening at latest. Rennin wrote, Thursday evening, nine o'clock, in big letters, on a card which he nailed above the mantelpiece in his study. Then at midday on Saturday, the day after the disappearance, he locked himself into the study, after telling his man not to disturb him, except for meals and letters. He spent four days there, almost without moving, yet immediately sent for a set of all the leading newspapers

which had spoken in detail of the first six crimes. When he had read and re-read them, he closed the shutters, drew the curtains, and lay down on the sofa in the dark, with the door bolted, thinking. By Tuesday evening he was no further advanced than on the Saturday. The darkness was as dense as ever. He had not discovered the smallest clue for his guidance, nor could he see the slightest reason to hope.

At times, notwithstanding his immense power of self-control and his unlimited confidence in the resources at his disposal, at times he would quake with anguish. would he arrive in time? There was no reason why he should see more clearly during the last few days than during those which had already elapsed, and this meant that Ortennes-Dagnel would inevitably be murdered. The thought tortured him.

He was attached to Orteans by a much stronger and deeper feeling than the appearance of the relations between them would have led an onlooker to believe. The curiosity at the beginning, the first desire, the impulse to protect Octans, to distract her, to inspire her with a relish for existence, all this had simply turned to love. Neither of them was aware of it, because they barely saw each other, save at critical times when they were occupied with the adventures of others, and not with their own.

But at the first onslaught of danger, Renin realized the place which Ortence had taken in his life, and he was in despair at knowing her to be a prisoner and a martyr and at being unable to save her. He spent a feverish, agitated night, turning the case over and over from every point of view. The Wednesday morning was also a terrible time for him. He was losing ground. Giving up his hermit-like seclusion, he threw open the windows and paced to and throw through his rooms, ran out into the street and came in again, as though fleeing before the thought that obsessed him. Othens is suffering Ochtens is in the depth

She sees the hatchet She is calling to me She is entreating me But I can do nothing It was five o'clock in the afternoon That on examining the list of the six names He received that little inward shock Which is the sort of signal of the truth

That is being sought for A light shot through his mind It was not, to be sure That brilliant light in which every detail is made plain but it was enough to tell him in which direction to move. His plan of campaign was formed at once. He sent Adolf, his chauffeur, to the principal newspapers, with a few lines which were to appear in type among the next morning's advertisements.

Adolf was also told to go to the laundry at Corbevoix, when Mademoiselle Coveau, the second of the six victims, had been employed. On the Thursday, Rinin did not stir out of doors. In the afternoon, he received several lords. letters in reply to his advertisement. Then two telegrams arrived. Lastly, at three o'clock, there came a pneumatic letter bearing the Trocadero postmark, which seemed to be what he was expecting. He turned up a directory, noted an address. M. de Lortier-Vano, retired colonial governor, 14 biz, Avenue Cleber, and ran down to his car. Adolf, 47 Biz, Avenue Clebert.

He was shown into a large study, furnished with magnificent bookcases, containing old volumes and costly bindings. Monsieur de Lortier Vanot was a man still in the prime of life, wearing a slightly grizzled beard, and by his affable manners and genuine distinction, commanding confidence and liking. Mr. de Lortier, said Rennin, I have ventured a call on your excellency, because I read in last year's newspapers that you used to know one of the victims of the lady with the half. hatchet on the reinvarnisse. Why, of course we knew her, cried Mr. de Lortier. My wife used to employ her as a dressmaker by the day. Poor girl.

Mr. de Lortier, a lady of my acquaintance, has disappeared as the other six victims disappeared. What? exclaimed Mr. de Lortier with a start. But I followed the newspapers carefully. There was nothing on the 18th of October. Yes. woman of whom I am very fond, Madame Ortenes-Daniel, was abducted on the 17th of October.

And this is the 22nd. Yes, and the murder will be committed on the 24th. Horrible! Horrible! It must be prevented at all costs. And I shall perhaps succeed in preventing it, with your excellency's assistance. But have you been to the police? No, we are faced by mysteries. which are, so to speak, absolute and compact, which offer no gap through which the keenest eyes can see, and which it is useless to hope to clear up by ordinary methods, such as inspection

of the scenes of the crimes, police inquiries, searching for fingerprints and so on. As none of those proceedings served any good purpose in the previous cases, it would be a waste of time to resort to them in a seventh similar case. An enemy who displays such skill and subtlety would not leave behind her any of those clumsy traces which are the first things that a professional detective seizes upon. Then what have you done? Before taking any action, I have reflected. I gave four days to thinking the matter over. Mr. de Lortier Vanot examined his visitor closely, and with a touch of irony asked, and the result of your meditations? To begin with, said Renin, refusing to be put out of countenance,

have submitted all these cases to a comprehensive survey, which hitherto no one else had done. This enabled me to discover their general meaning, to put aside all the tangle of embarrassing theories, and since no one was able to agree as to the motives of all this filthy business, to attribute it to the only class of persons capable of it. That is to say, Lunatics, Your Excellency. Mr. de Lorsier-Vinot started. "'Lunitics? What an idea!'

"'Mr. de Lourciet, the woman known as the lady with the hat-it, is a madwoman. "'But she would be locked up?' "'We don't know that she's not. "'We don't know that she's not one of those half-mad people, "'apparently harmless, who are watched so slightly "'that they have full scope to indulge their little manias, "'their wild-beast instincts. "'Nothing could be more treacherous in these creatures,

nothing could be more crafty, more patient, more persistent, more dangerous, and at the same time more absurd and more logical, more slovenly, and more methodical. All these epithets, Monsieur de Lortier, may be applied to the doings of the lady with the hatchet. The obsession of an idea and the continual repetition of an act are characteristics of the maniac. I do not yet know the idea by which the lady with the hatchet is obsessed, but I do know the act that results from it, and it is always the same. The victim is bound with precisely similar

ropes. She is killed after the same number of days. She is struck by an identical blow, with the same instrument in the same place, the middle of the forehead, producing an absolutely vertical wound. An ordinary murderer displays some variety. His trembling hand swerves aside and strikes awry. The lady with the hatchet does not tremble. It is as though she had taken measure. It is as though she had taken measurements, and the edge of her weapon does not swerve by a hair's breadth. Need I give you any further proofs, or examine all the other details with you? Surely not. You now possess the key to the riddle, and you know as I do that only a lunatic can behave in

this way, stupidly, savagely, mechanically, like a striking clock or the blade of the guillotine. Mr. de Lortier-Vano nodded his head. Yes, that is so. One can see the whole affair from that angle, and I'm beginning to believe that this is how one ought to see it. But if we admit that this madwoman has the sort of mathematical logic which govern the murders of the six victims, I see no connections between the victims themselves. She struck at random. Why, this victim rather than that? Ah, said Rinin, your excellency is asking me a question which I asked myself from the first moment,

the question which sums up the whole problem and which cost me, so much trouble to solve. Why Ortenes Daniel rather than another? Among two millions of women who might have been selected, why Ortenes? Why little Vernisse? Why Miss Williamson? If the affair is such as I conceived it, as a whole, that is to say, based upon the blind and fantastic logic of a madwoman, a choice was inevitably exercised. Now, in what did that choice consist? What was the quality, or the defect or the sign needed to induce the lady with the hatchet to strike. In a word, if she chose, and she must have chosen, what directed her choice? Have you found the answer? Renin paused and replied, Yes, Your Excellency, I have. And I could have found it at the very outset, since all that I

had to do was to make a careful examination of the list of victims. But these flashes of truth are never kindled, save in a brain or were stimulated by effort and reflection. I stared at the list twenty times over before that little detail took a definite shape. I don't follow you, said Mr. de Lortier-Vanaut. Mr. Lortier, it may be noted that if a number of persons are brought together in any transaction or crime or public scandal or whatnot, they are almost invariably described in the same way. On this occasion, newspapers never mentioned anything more than their surnames in speaking of Madame Ladoux, Mademoiselle Ardenne or Mademoiselle Codvreau.

On the other hand, Mademoiselle Vernice and Miss Williamson were always described by their Christian names as well. Honorin and Hermione. If the same thing had been done in the case of all the six victims, there would have been no mystery. Why not? Because we should at once have realized the relation existing between the six of the six victims. unfortunate women, as I myself suddenly realized it on comparing those two Christian names with that of Orten's Daniel. You understand now, don't you? You see the three Christian names before your eyes. Monsieur de Lortier-Vano seemed to be perturbed, turning a little pale, he said.

What do you mean? What do you mean? I mean, continued Renin, in a clear voice, sounding each syllable separately, I mean that you see before your eyes three Christian names which all three begin with the same initial, and which all three, by a remarkable coincidence, consist of the same number of letters, as you may prove. If you inquire at the Corbevoix laundry, where Mademoiselle Coveau used to work, you will find that her name was Illerie. Here again we have the same initial and the same number of letters. There is no need to seek any farther. Are we not, that the Christian names of all the victims offer the same peculiarities, and this gives us, with absolute certainty, the key to the problem which was set us.

It explains the madwoman's choice. We now know the connection between the unfortunate victims. There can be no mistake about it. It's that and nothing else. And how this method of choosing confirms my theory! What proof of madness! Why kill these women rather than any others? because their names begin with an H and consist of eight letters.

You understand me, Mr. Delortier, do you not? The number of letters is eight. The initial letter is the eighth letter of the alphabet, and the word Vint, eight, begins with an H. Always the letter H. And the implement used to commit the crime was a hatchet. Is your excellency prepared to tell me that the lady with the hatchet is not a madwoman? Rennin interrupted himself and went up to Mr.

de Lortier Vanot. What's the matter, Your Excellency? Are you unwell? No, no, said M. de Lortier, with the perspiration streaming down his forehead. No, but all this story is so upsetting. Only think, I knew one of the victims, and then Renin took a water bottle and tumbler from a small table, filled the glass, and handed it to M. de Lortier, who sipped a few mouthfuls from it, and then, pulling himself together, continued in a voice which he strove to make firmer than it had been.

Very well, we'll admit your supposition. Even so, it is necessary that it should lead to tangible results. What have you done? This morning I published in all the newspapers an advertisement worded as follows. Excellent cook seeks situation right before 5 p.m. to Armenia, Boulevard, Hausman, etc. You continue to follow me. don't you, Mr. DeLortier? Christian names beginning with an age and consisting of eight letters are extremely rare, and all are rather out of date. Hermione, Hermione, well, these Christian names, for reasons which I do not understand, are essential to the madwoman.

She cannot do without them. To find women bearing one of these Christian names, and for this purpose only, she summons up all her remaining powers of reason, discernment, reflection, and intelligence. She hunts about, she asks questions, she lies in wait, she reads newspapers which she hardly understands, but in which certain details, certain capital letters, catch her eye. And consequently, I did not doubt for a second that this name of Hermini, printed in large type, would attract her attention, and that she would be caught today in the trap of my advertisement. Did she write? asked Mr. Dolorsier, Vano anxiously. Several ladies, Renin continued, wrote the letters which are usual in such cases to offer a home to the so-called Herminie, but I received an express letter which struck me as interesting. From whom? Read it, Monsieur de Lortier. Mr. De Lortier Vanot snatched the sheet from Renin's hands and cast a glance at the signature.

His first movement was one of surprise, as though he had expected something different. then he gave a long, loud laugh of something like joy and relief. Why do you laugh, Mr. Delortier? You seem pleased. Please, no, but this letter is signed by my wife. And you are afraid of finding something else? Oh, no, but since it's my wife! He did not finish his sentence and said to Renin, Come this way. He led him through a passage to a little drawing-room where a fair hill, lady with a happy and tender expression on her comely face was sitting in the midst of three children and helping them with their lessons she rose m de lortier briefly presented his visitor and asked his wife suzanne is this express message from you to mademoiselle erminey boulevard houseman yes she said i sent it as you know our parlour-maids leaving and i'm looking out for a new one

renninn interrupted her excuse me madame just one question where did you get the woman's address she flushed her husband insisted tell us suzanne who gave you the address i was wrung up by whom she hesitated and then said your old nurse felician yes mr de lortier cut short the conversation and without a little bit of her own m de lortier cut short the conversation and without permitting renin to ask any more questions took him back to the study you see monsieur that pneumatic letter came from a quite natural source felicitin my old nurse who lives not far from paris on an allowance which i make her read your advertisement and told madame lortier of it for after all he added laughing i don't suppose that you suspect my wife of being the lady with the hatchet no then the incident is closed at least on my side i have done what i could i have listened to your arguments and i am very sorry that i can be of no more use to you he drank another glass of water and sat down his face was distorted renn looked at him for a few seconds as a man will look at a failing adversary who has only to receive the knock-out blow and sitting down beside him suddenly gripped his arm your excellency if you do not speak orthens daniel will be the seventh victim i have nothing to say monsieur what do you think i know the truth my explanations have made it plain to you your distress your terror are positive proofs but after all monsieur if i knew why should i be silent for fear of scandal there is in your life so a profound intuition assures me something that you are constrained to hide, the truth about this monstrous tragedy which suddenly flashed upon you.

This truth, if it were known, would spell dishonor to you, disgrace, and you are shrinking from your duty. Mr. de Lortier did not reply, Renin leaned over him, and looking him in the eyes, whispered, There will be no scandal. I shall be the only person in the world to know what has happened, and I am as much interested as yourself in not attracting attention, because I love Orten's Danier. and do not wish her name to be mixed up in your horrible story. They remained face to face during a long interval.

Renin's expression was harsh and unyielding. Mr. Lortier felt that nothing would bend him if the necessary words remained unspoken, but he could not bring himself to utter them. You are mistaken, he said. You think you have seen things that don't exist. Renin received a sudden and terrifying conviction that if this man took refuge,

in a stolid silence, there was no hope for Orten's Daniel, and he was so much infuriated by the thought that the key to the riddle lay there within reach of his hand, that he clutched Monsieur de Lortier by the throat and forced him backwards. I'll have no more lies! A woman's life is at stake! Speak! And speak at once! If not!

Mr. de Lortier had no strength left in him. All resistance was impossible. It was not that Renin's attack a long. him or that he was yielding to this act of violence, but he felt crushed by that indomitable will, which seemed to admit no obstacle, and he stammered, you're right. It is my duty to tell everything, whatever comes of it. Nothing will come of it. I pledge my word, on condition that you save Ortens Daniel. A moment's hesitation may undo us all. Speak, no details but the actual facts. Madame de Lorte is not my wife.

The only woman who has the right to bear my name is one whom I married when I was a young colonial officer. She was a rather eccentric woman, a feeble mentality, and incredibly subject to impulses that amounted to monomania. We had two children, twins whom she worshipped, and in whose company she would no doubt have recovered her mental balance and moral health. When, by a stupid accident, a passing carriage, they were killed before her eyes, the poor thing went mad with the silent secret of madness which you imagined some time afterwards when i was appointed to an algerian station i brought her to france and put her in the charge of a worthy creature who had nursed me and brought me up two years later i made the acquaintance of the woman who was to become the joy of my life you saw her just now she is the mother of my children and she passes as my wife are we to sacrifice her is our whole existence to be shipwrecked in horror and must our name be coupled with this tragedy of madness and blood. Renin thought for a moment and asked,

What is the other one's name? Hermannes. Hermannes! Still that initial! Still those eight letters! That was what made me realize everything just now, said Mr. de Lortier. When you compared the different names, I at once reflected that my unhappy wife was called Hermannes,

and that she was mad. and all the proofs leapt to my mind. But though we understand the selection of the victims, how are we to explain the murders? What are the symptoms of her madness? Does she suffer at all? She does not suffer very much at present, but she has suffered in the past,

the most terrible suffering that you can imagine, since the moment when her two children were run over before her eyes, night and day she had the horrible spectacle of their death before her eyes, without a moment's interruption, where she never slept for a single second. Think of the torture of it, to see her children dying through all the hours of the long day and all the hours of the interminable night.

Nevertheless, the Nin objected, it is not to drive away that picture that she commits murder. Yes, possibly, said Mr. de Lortier thoughtfully, to drive it away by sleep. I don't understand. You don't understand because we are talking, of a madwoman, and because all that happens in that disordered brain is necessarily incoherent and abnormal. Obviously, but all the same is your supposition based on facts that justify it.

Yes, on facts which I had, in a way, overlooked, but which today assume their true significance. The first of these facts dates a few years back to a morning when my old nurse for the first time found Hermann's fast asleep. Now she was holding her hands clutched to her. around a puppy which she had strangled, and the same thing was repeated on three other occasions. And she slept? Yes, each time she slept to sleep, which lasted for several nights. And what conclusion did you draw? I concluded that the relaxation of the nerves provoked by taking life exhausted her and predisposed her for sleep. Vinen shuddered. That's it. There's not a doubt of it. The taking life,

The effort of killing makes her sleep, and she began with women what had served her so well with animals. All her madness has become concentrated on that one point. She kills them to rob them of their sleep. She wanted sleep, and she steals the sleep of others. That's it, isn't it? For the past two years she has been sleeping. For the past two years, she has been sleeping. stammered Monsieur de Lortier.

Renin gripped him by the shoulder. And it never occurred to you that her madness might go farther, that she would stop at nothing to win the blessing of sleep. Let us make haste, monsieur. All this is horrible. They were both making for the door when Mr. de Lortier hesitated. The telephone bell was ringing. It's from there, he said.

From where? Yes, my old nurse gives me the door. the news at the same time every day. Young hooked the receivers and handed one to Renin, who whispered in his ear the questions which he was to put. Is that you, Felicien?

How is she? Not so bad, sir. Is she sleeping well? Not very well lately. Last night, indeed, she never closed her eyes, so she's very gloomy just now. What is she doing at the moment?

She is in her room. Go to her, Felicity. and don't leave her i can't she's locked herself in you must felicia and break open the door i'm coming straight on hello hello oh damnation they've cut us off without a word the two men left the flat and ran down to the avenue renn had hustled m de lorte into the car what address ville d'avri of course in the very centre of her operations like a spider in the middle of her web Oh, the shame of it! He was profoundly agitated. He saw the whole adventure in its monstrous reality. Yes, she kills them to steal their sleep, as she used to kill the animals.

It is the same obsession, but complicated by a whole array of utterly incomprehensible practices and superstitions. She evidently fancies that the similarity of the Christian names to her own is indispensable, and that she will not sleep unless her victim is an Orten's or an Honorin. It's a madwoman's argument. Its logic escapes us, and we know nothing of its origin, but we can't get away from it. She has to hunt and has to find, and she finds and carries off her prey beforehand, and watches over it for the appointed number of days, until the moment when, crazily, through the hole which she digs with a hatchet in the middle of the skull, she absorbs the sleep which stupefies her and grants her oblivion for a given period. And here again we see absurdity in.

madness. Why does she fix that period at so many days? Why should one victim ensure her 120 days of sleep and another 125? What insanity! The calculation is mysterious and of course mad. But the fact remains that at the end of a hundred or a hundred and twenty-five days, as the case may be, a fresh victim is sacrificed, and there have been six already, and the seventh is awaiting her turn. Oh, Monsieur, what a terrible responsibility for you. Such a monster is that. She should never have been allowed out of sight. Monsieur de Lortier-Vinot made no protest.

His air of dejection, his pallor, his trembling hands, all proved his remorse and his despair. She deceived me, he murmured. She was outwardly so quiet, so docile, and after all she's in a lunatic asylum. then how can she the asylum explained m de lortier is made up of a number of separate buildings scattered over extensive grounds the sort of cottage in which armands lives stands quite apart there is first a room occupied by then armance's bedroom in two separate rooms one of which has its windows overlooking the open country i suppose it is there that she locks up her victims but the carriage that conveys the dead bodies the stables of the asylum are quite close to the cottage there's a horse and carriage there for station work elmence no doubt gets up at night harnesses the horse and slips the body through the window and the nurse who watches her felicia is very old and rather deaf

but by day she sees her mistress moving to and fro doing this and that must we not admit a certain complicity never feliciane herself has been deceived by elmence's hypocrisy all the same it was she who telephoned to madame de l'Orciet first about that advertisement very naturally ermeses who talks now and then who argues who buries herself in the newspapers which she does not understand you were saying just now but reads through them attentively must have seen the advertisement and having heard that we were looking for a servant must have asked felician to ring me up yes yes that is what i felt said renan slowly she marks down her her victims. With Ortenes dead, she would have known, once she had used up her allowance of sleep, were to find an eighth victim. But how did she entice the unfortunate women? How did she entice Ortens? The car was rushing along, but not fast enough to please Renin, who raided the chauffeur. Push her along, Adolf, can't you? We're losing time, my man. Suddenly the fear of arriving too late began to torture him. The logic of the insane is subject to sudden change.

of mood to any perilous idea that may enter the mind the madwoman might easily mistake the date and hasten the catastrophe like a clock out of order which strikes an hour too soon on the other hand as her sleep was once more disturbed might she not be tempted to take action without waiting for the appointed moment was this not the reason why she had locked herself into her room heavens what agonies her prisoner must be suffering what shudders of terror at the executioner's least movement "'Faster, Adolf, or I'll take the wheel myself. "'Faster, hang it!' At last they reached Ville d'Avres. There was a steep, sloping road on the right, and walls interrupted by a long railing. "'Drive round the grounds, Adolf.

We mustn't give warning of our presence, must be, Monsieur de Lortier. Where is the cottage?' "'Just opposite,' said Monsieur de Lortier Vanot. They got out a little farther on. Renin began to run along a bank at the side of an ill-kept sunken road. It was almost dark. Mr. de Lortier said, Here, this building standing a little way back. Look at that window on the ground floor. It

belongs to one of the separate rooms. That is obviously how she slips out. But the window seems to be barred. Yes, and that is why no one suspected anything, but she must have found some way to get through. The ground floor was built over deep cellars. The Ninn quickly clambered up, finding a foothold on a projecting ledge of stone. Sure enough, one of the bars was missing. He pressed his face to the window-pane and looked in. The room was dark inside. Nevertheless, he was able to distinguish at the back a woman seated beside another woman who was lying on a mattress. The woman seated was holding her forehead in her hands and gazing at the woman who was lying down. It's she, whispered Mr. de Lortier, who had also climbed the wall.

The other one is bound. Renin took from his pocket a glazier's diamond and cut out one of the pains without making enough noise to arouse the madwoman's attention. He next slid his hand to the window-fasting and turned it softly, while with his left hand he levelled a revolver. You're not going to fire, surely,

Mr. de Lord Sieveano entreated. If I must, I shall. Renin pushed open the window gently, but there was an opposite. of which he was not aware, a chair which toppled over and fell. He leapt into the room and threw away his revolver in order to seize the madwoman. But she did not wait for him. She rushed to the door, opened it and fled with a hoarse cry.

Monsieur de Lortier made as though to run after her. What's the use? said Rennin, kneeling down. Let's save the victim first. He was instantly reassured. Ortenes was alive. The first thing that he did was to cut the cords and remove the gag that was stifling her. Attracted by the noise, the old nurse had hastened to the room with a lamp, which Renin took from her, casting its light on Ortenes.

He was astounded, though livid and exhausted, with emaciated features and eyes blazing with fever, Ortenz was trying to smile. She whispered, I was expecting you. I did not despair for a moment. i was sure of you she fainted an hour later after much useless searching around the cottage they found the madwoman locked into a large cupboard in the loft she had hanged herself ortenes refused to stay another night besides it was better that the cottage should be empty when the old nurse announced the madwoman's suicide renin gave felician minute directions as to what she should do and say and then assisted by the chauffeur and m de lortier carried ortens to the car and brought her home she was soon convalescent two days later renin carefully questioned her and asked her how she had come to know the madwoman it was very simple she said

My husband, who is not quite sane, as I have told you, is being looked after at Vilde-Davre, and I sometimes go to see him, without telling anybody I'd met. That was how I came to speak to that poor madwoman, and how the other day she made signs that she wanted me to visit her. We were alone. I went into the cottage. She threw herself upon me and overpowered me before I had time to cry for help. I thought it was a jest.

And so it was, wasn't it? A madwoman's jest? She was quite gentle with me. All the same, she let me starve. But I was so sure of you. And weren't you frightened? Of starving? No.

Besides, she gave me some food now and then, when the fancy took her. And then I was sure of you. Yes, but there was something else. That other peril. What other peril? She asked ingenuously. Renin gave a start.

He suddenly understood. It seemed strange at first. though it was quite natural, that Ortenes had not for a moment suspected and did not yet suspect the terrible danger which she had run. Her mind had not connected with her own adventure, the murders committed by the lady with the hatchet. He thought that it would always be time enough to tell her the truth. For that matter, a few days later, her husband, who had been locked up for years, died in the asylum at Vilde-Avre, and Ortenes, who had been recommended by her doctor a short period of rest and solitude, went to her.

to stay with a relation living near the village of Basikour in the centre of France. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of the 8 Strokes of the Clock. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The 8 strokes of the clock by Maurice Leblanc. Chapter 7. Footprints in the snow. To Prince Serge Renin, Wulvar Houseman, Paris.

La Roncierge near Basicour, 14 November. my dear friend you must be thinking me very ungrateful i have been here three weeks and you have not had one letter from me not a word of thanks and yet i ended by realizing from what terrible death you saved me and understanding the secret of that terrible business but indeed indeed i couldn't help it i was in such a state of prostration after it all i needed rest and solitude so badly was i to stay in paris was i to continue my expeditions with you? No, no, no. I had had enough adventures. Other people's are very interesting, I admit, but when one is oneself the victim and barely escapes with one's life, oh, my dear friend, how horrible it was, shall I ever forget it? Here, at La Ronsier, I enjoy the greatest peace. My old spinster cousin, Hermalin, pets and coggles me like an invalid. I'm getting back my colour and am very well physically, so much so, in fact, that I no longer ever

think of interesting myself in other people's business. Never again, for instance, I'm only telling you this because you are incorrigible, as inquisitive as any old charwoman, and always ready to busy yourself with things that don't concern you. Yesterday I was present at a rather curious meeting. Antoinette had taken me to the inn at Basicouille, where we were having tea in the public room among the peasants. It was market day, when the arrival of three people, two men and a woman, caused a sudden pause in the conversation. One of the men was a fat farmer in a long blouse with a jovial red face framed in white whiskers. The other was younger, was dressed in corduroy and had lean, yellow, cross-grained features. Each of them carried a gun

slung over his shoulder. Between them was a short, slender young woman, in a brown cloak, and a fur cap, whose rather thin and extremely pale face was surprisingly delicate and distinguished looking. Father, son, and daughter-in-law, whispered my cousin. What? Can that charming creature be the wife of that clod-hopper? And the daughter-in-law of Baron de Gaon? Is the old fellow over there a baron?

Yes, descended from a very ancient noble family, which used to own the chateau in the old days, he has always lived like a peasant a great hunter a great drinker a great litigant always at law with somebody now very nearly ruined his son matthias was more ambitious and less attached to the soil and studied for the bar then he went to america next the lack of money brought him back to the village whereupon he fell in love with a young girl in the nearest town the poor girl consented no one knows why to marry him and for five years past she has been leading the life of a hermit, or rather of a prisoner in a little manor-house close by, the manor-o-pue, the well-mannered. With the father in the sun, I asked. No, the father lives at the far end of the village on a lonely farm. And is Master Matthias jealous?

Perfect tiger. Without reason? Without reason, for Natalie Dogon is the straightest woman in the world, and it is not her fault of a handsome young man has been hanging around the man house for the past few months. However, the Degon's can't get over it. What, the father neither? The handsome young man is the last descendant of the people who bought the chateau long ago. This explains old Degon's hatred. Jerome Vignal, I know him and am very fond of him, is a good-looking fellow and very well off, and he has sworn to run off with Nattali Degon.

It's the old man who says so, whenever he has had a drop too much. There, listen. the old chap was sitting among a group of men who were amusing themselves by making him drink and plying him with questions he was already a little bit on and was holding forth with a tone of indignation and a mocking smile which formed the most comic contrast he's wasting his time i tell you the coxcomb it's no manner of use is poaching round our way making sheep-size at the wench the coverts are watched if he comes too near it means a bullet eh matthias he gripped his daughter-in-law's hand and then the little wench knows how to defend herself too he chuckled eh you don't want any admirers do you natalie the young wife blushed in her confusion at being addressed in these terms while her husband growled you'd do better to hold your tongue father there are things one doesn't talk about in public things that affect one's honour are best settled in public retorted the old one where i'm concerned the honour of the dougangs comes before everything and that fine spark with his paris airs shan't he stopped short before him stood a man who had just come in and who seemed to be waiting for him to finish his sentence the newcomer was a tall powerfully built young fellow in riding kit with a hunting crop in his hand his strong and rather stern face was lighted up by a pair of fine eyes, in which shone an ironical smile.

"'Chairme Vignal,' whispered my cousin. The young man seemed not at all embarrassed. On seeing Natalee, he made a low bow, and when Matthias Dagon took a step forward, he eyed him from head to foot, as though to say, well, what about it? And his attitude was so haughty and contemptuous that the Degons unslung their guns and took them in both hands,

like sportsmen about to shoot. The son's expression was very fierce. Jerome was quite unmoved by the threat. After a few seconds, turning to the innkeeper, he remarked. Oh, I say, I came to see old Vassar, but his shop is shut. Would you mind giving him the holster of my revolver? It wants a stitch or two. He handed the holster to the innkeeper and added laughing.

I'm keeping the revolver in case I need it. You never can tell. then still very calmly he took a cigarette from a silver case lit it and walked out we saw him through the window vaulting on his horse and riding off at a slow trot old dagon tossed off a glass of brandy swearing most horribly his son clapped his hand to the old man's mouth and forced him to sit down natalidagon was weeping beside them that's my story dear friend as you see it's not tremendously interesting and does not deserve your attention there's no mystery in it and no part for you to play indeed i particularly insist that you should not seek a pretext for any untimely interference of course i should be glad to see the poor thing protected. She appears to be a perfect martyr. But as I said before, let us leave other people to get out of their own troubles and go no farther with our little experiments. Renin finished reading the letter, read it over again and ended by saying,

That's it. Everything's right as right can be. She doesn't want to continue our little experiments because this would make the seventh and because she's afraid of the eighth, which, under the terms of our agreement has a very particular significance. She doesn't want to, and she does want to, without seeming to want to. He rubbed his hands. The letter was an invaluable witness to the influence which he had gradually, gently, and patiently gained over Orton's Daniel. It betrayed a rather complex feeling, composed of admiration, unbounded confidence, uneasiness at times, fear and almost terror, but also love. He was convinced of that. His companion in adventures, which she shared with a good fellowship that excluded any awkwardness between them, she had suddenly

taken fright, and a sort of modesty mingled with a certain coquetry was impelling her to hold back. That very evening, Sunday, Renin took the train, and at break of day, after covering by diligence on a road white with snow, the five miles between the little town of pontpignat where he alighted and the village of basicour he learned that his journey might prove of some use three shots had been heard during the night in the direction of the manor three shots sergeant i heard them as plainly as i see you standing before me said a peasant whom the gendarme were questioning in the parlor of the inn which renin had entered so did i said the waiter three shots it may have been twelve o'clock at night the snow which had been falling since nine had stopped, and the shots sounded across the fields, one after the other, bang, bang, bang. Five more peasants gave their evidence. The sergeant and his men had heard nothing because the police station backed on the fields. But a farm labourer and a woman arrived, who said that they were in Matthias de Gaon's service, that they had been away for two days because of

the intervening Sunday, and that they had come straight from the manor house, where they were unable to obtain admission. The gate of the grounds is locked, Sergeant, said the man. It's the first time I've known this to happen. Monsieur Matthias comes out to open it himself, every morning at the stroke of six, winter and summer. Well, it's past eight now. I called and shouted. Nobody answered, so he came on here.

You might have inquired it old, Monsieur de Gaunt's, said the sergeant. He lives on the high road. On my word, so I might. I never thought of that. We'd better go there now, the sergeant decided. Two of his men went with him, as well as the peasants and a locksmith, whose services were called into requisition. Renin joined the party. Soon at the end of the village, they reached Old de Gaon's farm yard, which Renin recognized by Ortenza's description of its position.

The old fellow was harnessing his horse and trap. When they told him what had happened, he burst out laughing. "'Hoh, ha, ha, ha! Three shots? Bang, bang, bang? Why, my dear sergeant, there are only two barrels to Matthias's gun. What about the locked gate? It means that the lad's asleep, that's all. Last night he came and cracked a bottle with me, perhaps two, or even three, and he'll be sleeping it off, I expect. He and Natalee. He climbed onto the box of his trap, an old cart with a patched tilt and cracked his whip. Goodbye, gentlemen all. Those three shots of yours won't stop me from going to market at Pompignan as I do every Monday.

I have a couple of calves under the tilt, and they're just fit for the butcher. Good day to you. The others walked on. Renin went up to the sergeant and gave him his name. I'm a friend of Mademoiselle Hermalin of La Roncier. And as it's too early to call on her yet, I shall be glad if you'll allow me to go round by the manner with you. Mademoiselle Hermalais knows Madame de Gaon,

and it will be a satisfaction to me to relieve her mind, for there is nothing wrong at the manor-house, I hope. If there is, replied the sergeant, we shall read all about it as plainly as on a map because of the snow. He was a likable, young man, and seemed smart and intelligent. From the very first he had shown great acuteness in observing the tracks which Matthias had left behind him the evening before, on returning home, tracks which soon became confused with the footprints made in going and coming by the

farm labourer and the woman. Meanwhile, they came to the walls of a property of which the locksmith readily opened the gate. From here onward, a single trail appeared upon the spotless snow, that of Matthias, and it was easy to perceive that the sun must have shared larkly in the father's libations, as the line of footprints described sudden curves which made it swerve right up to the trees of the avenue. Two hundred yards farther stood the dilapidated two-storied building of the Menorreau-Puy. The principal door was open. Let's go in, said the sergeant. And the moment he had crossed the threshold, he muttered. Oh, old Degon made a mistake and not coming. They've been fighting in here. The big room was in disorder. Two shattered chairs. The overturned table and much broken glass in

China bore witness to the violence of the struggle. The tall clock, lying on the ground, had stopped at twenty past eleven. With the farm girl showing them the way, they ran up to the first floor. Neither Matthias nor his wife was there, but the door of their bedroom had been broken down with a hammer which they discovered under the bed. Renin and the sergeant went downstairs again. The living room had a passage communicating with the kitchen, which lay at the back of the house and opened on a small yard, fenced off from the orchard. At the end of this enclosure was a well near which one was bound to pass. Now from the door of the kitchen to the well, the snow, which was not very thick, had been pressed down to this side, and that as though a body had been dragged over it, and all around the well

were tangled traces of trampling feet, showing that the struggle must have been resumed at this spot. The sergeant again discovered Matthias's footprints, together with others which were shapelier and lighter. These latter went straight into the orchard by themselves, and 30 yards on, near the footprints, a revolver was picked up and recognized by one of the peasants as resembling that which Jerome Vignal had produced in the inn two days before. The sergeant examined the cylinder. Three of the seven bullets had been fired. And so the tragedy was little by little reconstructed in its main outlines, and the sergeant, who had ordered everybody to stand aside, and not to step on the sight of the footprints,

came back to the well, leaned over, put a few questions to the farm girl, and, going up to Renin, whispered, It all seems fairly clear to me. Renin took his arm. Let's speak out plainly, Sergeant. I understand the business pretty well, for, as I told you,

I know Mademoiselle Hermalin, who is a friend of Jerome Vignasse, and also knows Madame de Gaume. Do you suppose? I don't want to suppose anything. I simply declared that someone came there last night. By which way? The only tracks of a person coming towards the manor

are those of Monsieur de Gaon. That's because the other person arrived before the snowfall, that is to say, before nine o'clock. Then he must have hidden in a corner of the living room and waited for the return of Monsieur de Gaon, who came after the snow? Just so. As soon as Matthias came in,

the man went for him. There was a fight. Matthias made his escape through the tree, kitchen. The man ran after him to the well and fired three revolver shots. And where's the body? Down the well? Vinen protested. Oh, I say, aren't you taking a lot for granted? Why, sir, the snow's there to tell the story, and the snow plainly says that after the struggle, after the three shots, one man alone walked away and left the farm, one man only, and his footprints are not those of Matthias de Gaum.

then where can Matthias de Gaon be? But the well can be dragged? No, the well is practically bottomless. It is known all over the district and gives its name to the manor. So you really believe? I repeat what I said, before the snowfall, a single arrival,

Matthias and a single departure, the stranger. And Madame de Gaunt, was she too killed and thrown down the well like her husband? No, carried off. carried off remember that her bedroom was broken down with a hammer come come sergeant you yourself declared that there was only one departure the strangers stoop down look at the man's footprints see how they sink into the snow until they actually touched the ground those are the footprints of a man laden with a heavy burden the stranger was carrying madame de gon on his shoulder then there's an outlet this way yes a little door of which matthias de gon always had the key on him the man must have taken it from him away out into the open fields yes a road which joins the departmental highway three-quarters of a mile from here and do you know where where at the corner of the chateau jerome vignale's chateau by jove this is beginning to look serious if the trail leads to the chateau and stop

there, we shall know where we stand. The trail did continue to the chateau, as they were able to perceive after following it across the undulating fields on which the snow lay heaped in places. The approach to the main gates had been swept, but they saw that another trail, formed by the two wheels of a vehicle, was running in the opposite direction to the village. The sergeant rang the bell. The porter, who had also been sweeping the drive, came to the gates with a broom in his hand. In answer to a question, the man said that Mr. Vignal had gone away that morning before anyone else was up, and that he himself had harnished the horse to the trap. In that case, said Renin, when they had moved away, all we have to do is to follow the tracks

of the wheels. That will be no use, said the sergeant. They have taken the railway. At Pompignas Station, where I came from, but they would have passed through the village. They have gone just the other way, because it leads to the town where the express train stop. The procurator-general has an office in the town. I'll telephone, and as there's no train before eleven o'clock, all that they need do is to keep watch at the station. I think you're doing the right thing, Sergeant, said Renan, and I congratulate you on the way in which you have carried out your investigation. They parted. Renin went back to the inn in the village, and sent a note to Ortenes-Dagnel by hand. My very dear friend, I seem to gather from your letter that

touched as always by anything that concerns the heart you were anxious to protect the love affair of jerome and natalie now there is every reason to suppose that these two without consulting their fair protectress have run away after throwing matthias de gond down a well forgive me for not coming to see you the whole thing is extremely obscure and if i were with you i should not have the detachment of mind which is needed to think the case over it was then half-past ten renin went for a walk into the country with his hands clasped behind his back and without vouchsafing a glance at the exquisite spectacle of the white meadows he came back for lunch still absorbed in his thoughts and indifferent to the talk of the customers of the inn who on all sides were discussing recent events he went up to his room and had been asleep some time when he was awakened by a tapping at the door he got up and opened it is it you is it you he whispered ortenes and he stood gazing at each other for some seconds in silence holding each other's hands as though nothing no irrelevant thought and no utterance must be allowed to interfere with the joy of their meeting then he asked was i right in coming yes she said gently i expected you perhaps it would have been better if you had sent for me sooner instead of waiting events did not wait you see and i don't quite know what's to become of gerald and natalie what haven't you heard she said quickly they've been arrested they were going to travel by the express arrested no renin objected people are not arrested like that they have to be arrested they have to be arrested like that they have to be arrested to be questioned first. That's what's being done now. The authorities are making a search.

Where? At the chateau. And as they are innocent, for they are innocent, aren't they? You don't admit that they are guilty any more than I do. He replied, I admit nothing. I can admit nothing, my dear. Nevertheless, I am bound to say that everything is against them, except one fact, which is that everything is too much against them. It is not normal for so many proofs to be heaped up. one on top of the other, and for the man who commits a murder to tell his story so frankly, apart from this, there's nothing but mystery and discrepancy. Well? Well, I am greatly puzzled.

But you have a plan? Not at all so far. Oh, if I could see him, Jerome Vignale and her, Natalie de Gaon, and hear them and know what they are saying in their own defence. But you can understand that I shan't be permitted either to ask them any questions, or to be present at their examination. Besides, it must be finished by this time. It's finished at the chateau, she said,

but it's going to be continued at the manor house. Are they taking them to the manor house? he asked eagerly. Yes, at least judging by what was said to the chauffeur of one of the procurator's two cars. Oh, in that case! exclaimed Brennan, the thing's done. The manor house! Why, we should be in the front row of the stalls. We shall see and hear everything. and as a word, a tone of the voice,

a quiver of the eyelids will be enough to give me the tiny clue I need. We may entertain some hope. Come along. He took her by the direct route which he had followed that morning, leading to the gate which the locksmith had opened. The gendarme on duty at the manor-house

had made a passage through the snow beside the line of footprints and around the house. Chance enabled Renin and Ortenes to approach unseen and through a side window to enter a corridor, door near a back staircase. A few steps up was a little chamber which received its only light through a sort of bullseye from the large room on the ground floor. Renin, during the morning visit, had noticed the bullseye which was covered on the inside with a piece of cloth. He

removed the cloth and cut out one of the panes. A few minutes later, a sound of voices rose from the other side of the house, no doubt near the well. The sound grew more distinct. A number of people flocked into the house. Some of them went upstairs to the first floor, while the sergeant arrived with the young man, of whom Renin and Ortenes were able to distinguish only the tall figure. Jerome Vignale, said she. Yes, said Renin. They are examining Madame de Gaon first upstairs in her bedroom. A quarter of an hour passed. Then the persons on the first floor came downstairs and went in. They were the procurator's deputy, his clerk, a commissary of the. police and two detectives. Madame de Gaon was shown in, and the deputy asked Jerome Vignal to step

forward. Jerome Vignal's face was certainly that of the strong man whom Ortenes had depicted in her letter. He displayed no uneasiness, but rather decision and a resolute will. Natalie, who was short and very slight, with a feverish light in her eyes, nevertheless produced the same impression of quiet confidence. The deputy, who was examining the disordered furniture and the traces of the struggle, invited her to sit down and said to Jerome, Monsieur, I have not asked you many questions so far. This is a summary inquiry which I am conducting in your presence, and which will be continued later by the examining magistrate, and I wished, above all, to explain to you the very serious reasons for which I asked you to interrupt your

journey and to come back here with Madame de Gaon. You are now in a position to refute the the truly distressing charges that are hanging over you. I therefore ask you to tell me the exact truth. Mr. Deputy, replied Jerome, the charges in question trouble me very little. The truth for which you are asking will defeat all the lies which chance has accumulated against me. It is this. He reflected for an instant, and then, in clear, frank tone, said, I love Madame de Gaon. The first time I met her, I conceived the greatest sympathy and admiration for her. but my affection has always been directed by the sole thought of her happiness. I love her, but I respect her even more.

Madame de Gaon must have told you, and I tell you again, that she and I exchanged our first few words last night. He continued in a lower voice, I respect her the more inasmuch as she is exceeding the unhappy. All the world knows that every minute of her life was of martyrdom. Her husband persecuted her with ferocious hatred, and frantic jealousy. Ask the servants, they will tell you of the long-suffering of Natalie Dagon, of the blows which she received and the insults which she had to endure. I tried to stop this torture

by restoring to the rights of appeal which the merest stranger may claim when unhappiness and injustice pass a certain limit. I went three times to old Dagon and begged him to interfere, but I found in him an almost equal hatred towards his daughter-in-law, the hatred which many people people feel for anything beautiful and noble. At last I resolved on direct action, and last night I took a step with regard to Matthias de Gaon, which was, a little unusual, I admit, but which seemed likely to succeed, considering the man's character. I swear, Mr. Deputy, that I had no other intention than to talk to Matthias de Gaon, knowing certain particulars of his life, which enabled me to bring effective pressure to bear upon him, I wished to make use of this advantage,

in order to achieve my purpose. If things turned out differently, I am not wholly to blame. So I went there a little before nine o'clock. The servants I knew were out. He opened the door himself. He was alone. Monsieur, said the deputy, interrupting him, You are saying something, as Madame de Gaon, for that matter, did just now, which is manifestly opposed to the truth. Matthias de Gaon did not come home last night until eleven o'clock. We have two definite proofs of this, his father's evidence, and the prints of his feet in the snow, which fell from a quarter past nine o'clock to eleven. Mr. Deputy, Jerome Vignolles declared, without heeding the bad effect which his obstinacy was

producing, I am relating things as they were, and not as they may be interpreted. But to continue, that clock marked ten minutes to nine when I entered this room, Mr. de Gaon, believing that he was about to be attacked, had taken down his gun. I placed my revolver on the table, out of reach of my hand, and sat down. I want to speak to you, monsieur, I said. Please listen to me. He did not stir and did not utter a single syllable. So I spoke, and straightway, crudely, without any previous explanations which might

have softened the bluntness of my proposal, I spoke the few words which I had prepared beforehand. I spent some months, monsieur, I said, in making careful inquiries into your financial position. You have mortgaged every foot of your land. You have signed bills which will shortly be falling due, and which it will be absolutely impossible for you to honor. You have nothing to hope for from your father, whose own affairs are in a very bad condition. So you are ruined. I have come to save you. He watched me, still without speaking, and sat down, which I took to mean that my suggestion was not entirely displeasing. Then I took a sheaf of bank-notes from my pocket, placed it before him and

continued. Here is sixty thousand francs, monsieur. I will buy the Manoix-O-Puy, its lands and dependencies, and take over the mortgages. The sum named is exactly twice what they are worth. I saw his eyes glittering. He asked my conditions. Only one, I said, that you go to America. Mr. Deputy, we sat discussing for two hours. It was not that my offer roused his indignation. I should not have risked it if I had not known with whom I was dealing, but he wanted more and haggled greedily, though he refrained from mentioning the name of Madame de Gaon, to whom I myself had not once alluded. We might have been two men engaged in a dispute, and seeking an agreement on common ground, whereas it was the happiness and the whole destiny

of a woman that were at stake. At last, weary of the discussion, I accepted a compromise, and we came to terms, which I resolved to make definite then and there. Two letters were exchanged between us, one in which he made the Manoirot-o-o-Vos. free over to me for the sum which I had paid him, and one which he pocketed immediately, by which I was to send him as much more in America on the day on which the decree of divorce was pronounced. So the affair was settled. I am sure that at that moment he was accepting in good faith. He looked upon me less as an enemy and a rival than as a man who was doing him a service. He even went so far as to give me the key of the little door which opens on the fields,

so that I might go home by the shortcut. Unfortunately, while I was picking up my cap and greatcoat, I made the mistake of leaving on the table, the letter of sale which he had signed. In a moment, Matthias de Gaon had seen the advantage which he could take of my slip. He could keep his property, keep his wife, and keep the money. Quick as lightning, he tucked away the paper, hit me over the head with the butt end of his gun, threw the gun on the floor, and seized me by the throat with both hands. He had reckoned without his host. I was the stronger of the two, and after a sharp but short struggle, I mastered him and tied him up with a cord which I found lying in a corner. Mr. Deputy, if my enemy's resolve was sudden, mine was no

less so. Since, when always said, he had accepted the bargain, I would force him to keep it, at least insofar as I was interested. A very few steps brought me to the first floor. I had not a doubt that Madame de Gaon was there, and had heard the sound of our discussion. Switching on the light of my pocket torch. I looked into three bedrooms. The fourth was locked. I knocked at the door. There was no reply. But this was one of the moments in which a man allows no obstacle to stand in his way. I had seen a hammer in one of the rooms. I picked it up and smashed in the door. Yes, Natalie was lying there on the floor in a dead faint. I took her in my arms, carried her downstairs and went through the kitchen. On seeing the snow outside, I at once realized that my

footprints would be easily traced. But what did it matter? Was there any reason why I should put Matthias de Gaon off the scent? Not at all, with the sixty thousand francs in his possession, as well as the paper in which I undertook to pay him a like sum on the day of his divorce. To say nothing of his house and land, he would soon go away, leaving Natalide de Gaon to me. Nothing was changed between us except one thing. Instead of awaiting his good pleasure, I had at once seized the precious pledge which I coveted. what i feared therefore was not so much any subsequent attack on the part of matthias de gonne but rather the indignant reproaches of his wife what would she say when she realized that she was a prisoner in my hands the reasons why i escaped reproach madame de gonne has i believe had the frankness to tell you love calls forth love that night in my house broken by emotion she confessed her feeling for me she loved me as i loved her our destinies were henceforth mingled

She and I set out at five o'clock this morning, not foreseeing for an instant that we were amenable to the law. Jerome Vignolles story was finished. He had told it straight off the real, like a story learnt by heart and incapable of revision in any detail. There was a brief pause, during which Ortenes whispered, It all sounds quite possible, and in any case very logical. There are the objections to come, said Gennin. Wait till you hear them. They are very serious, there's one in particular. The deputy procurator stated it at once. And what became of Monsieur de Gaon in all this?

Matthias de Gaon? asked Jerome. Yes, you have related with an accent of great sincerity, a series of facts which I am quite willing to admit. Unfortunately, you have forgotten a point of the first importance. What became of Matthias de Gaon? You tied him up here in this room. Well, this morning he was gone. Of course, Mr. Deputy,

Matthias Dagon accepted the bargain in the end and went away. By what road? No doubt by the road that leads to his father's house. Where are his footprints? The expanse of snow is an impartial witness. After your fight with him, we see you on the snow moving away. Why don't we see him? He came and did not go away again.

Where is he? There is not a trace of him. Or rather, the deputy lowered his voice. Or rather, yes. there are some traces on the way to the well and around the well, traces which prove that the last struggle of all took place there, and after that there is nothing, not a thing.' Jerome shrugged his shoulders. "'You have already mentioned this, Mr. Deputy, and it implies a charge of homicide against me.

I have nothing to say to it.' "'Have you anything to say to the fact that your revolver was picked up within fifteen yards of the well?' "'No.' or to the strange coincidence between the three shots heard in the night and the three cartridges missing from your revolver no mr deputy there was not as you believe a last struggle by the well because i left m de gonne tied up in this room and because i also left my revolver here On the other hand, if shots were heard, they were not fired by me. A casual coincidence, therefore. That's a matter for the police to explain. My only duty is to tell the truth, and you are not entitled to ask more of me.

And if that truth conflicts with the facts observed? It means that the facts are wrong, Mr. Deputy. As you please, but until the day when the police are able to make them agree with your statements, you will understand that I am obliged to keep you under a rat. and madame de gon asked jerome greatly distressed the deputy did not reply he exchanged a few words with the commissary of police and then beckoning to a detective ordered him to bring up one of the two motor-cars then he turned to natalie madame you have heard m vignale's evidence it agrees word for word with your own m signall declares in particular that you had fainted when he carried you away but did you remain unconscious all the way It seemed as though Jerome's composure had increased Madame de Gaon's assurance, she replied, I did not come to, Monsieur, until I was at the chateau.

It's most extraordinary. Didn't you hear the three shots which were heard by almost everyone in the village? I did not. And did you see nothing of what happened beside the well? Nothing did happen. Mr. Vignal has told you so. Then what has become of your husband? I don't know.

come madame you really must assist the officers of the law and at least tell us what you think do you believe that there may have been an accident and that possibly m de gonne who had been to see his father and had more to drink than usual lost his balance and fell into the well when my husband came back from seeing his father he was not in the least intoxicated his father however has stated that he was his father and he had drunk two or three bottles of wine his father is not telling the truth "'But the snow tells the truth, madame,' said the deputy irritably, "'and the line of his footprints wavers from side to side. "'My husband came in at half-past eight, monsieur, before the snow had begun to fall.' The deputy struck the table with his fist. "'But really, madame, you're going right against the evidence. "'That sheet of snow cannot speak false.

"'I may accept your denial of matters that cannot be verified, "'but these footprints in the snow—in the snow!' he controlled himself the motor-car drew up outside the windows forming a sudden resolve he said to natalie you will be good enough to hold yourself at the disposal of the authorities madame and to remain here in the manor-house and he made a sign to the sergeant to remove jerome vignall in the car the game was lost for the two lovers barely united they had to separate and fight far away from each other against the most grievous accusations jerome took a step towards natalie they exchanged a long sorrowful look then he bowed to her and walked to the door in the wake of the sergeant of gendarme halt cried a voice sergeant right about turn jerome vignale stay where you are the ruffled deputy raised his head as did the other people present the voice came from the ceiling the bull's-eye window had opened and renin leaning through it was waving his arm arms. I wish to be heard. I have several remarks to make, especially in respect of the zigzag footprints. It all lies in that. Matthias had not been drinking. He had turned round and put his two legs through

the opening, saying to Ortenes, who tried to prevent him, don't move. No one will disturb you. And releasing his hold, he dropped into the room. The deputy appeared dumbfounded. But really, monsieur, who are you? Where do you come from? Renin brushed the dust from his clothes and replied, "'Excuse me, Mr. Deputy, I ought to have come the same way as everybody else, but I was in a hurry. Besides, if I had come in by the door instead of falling from the ceiling, my words would not have made the same impression.'

The infuriated deputy advanced to meet him. "'Who are you?' "'Prince Renin. I was with the sergeant this morning when he was pursuing his investigations. Wasn't I sergeant? Since then I have been hunting about for information. That's why, wishing to be present at the hearing, I found a corner in a little private room. You were there? You had the audacity!

One must needs be audacious when the truth's at stake. If I had not been there, I should not have discovered just the one little clue which I missed. I should not have known that Matthias de Gaon was not the least bit drunk. Now that's the key to the riddle. When we know that, we know the solution. The deputy found himself in a rather ridiculous position. Since he had failed to take the necessary precautions to ensure the secrecy of his inquiry, it was difficult for him to take any steps against this interloper. He growled, Let's have done with this. What are you asking? A few minutes of your kind attention. And with what object? To establish the innocence of M. Vignal and Madame de Gaune.

He was wearing that calm air, that sort of indifferent look which was peculiar to him, in moments of action when the crisis of the drama depended solely upon himself. Ortenes felt a thrill pass through her, and at once became full of confidence. They're saved, she thought, with sudden emotion. I asked him to protect that young creature, and he is saving her from prison and despair. Jerome and Natalie must have experienced the same impression of sudden hope, for they had drawn nearer to each other, as though this stranger descended from the clouds had already given them the right to clasp hands.

The deputy shrugged his shoulders. The prosecution will have every means when the time comes of establishing their innocence for itself. You will be called. It would be better to establish it here and now. Any delay might lead to grievous consequences. I happen to be in a hurry. Two or three minutes will do.

Two or three minutes to explain a case like this. No longer, I assure you. "'Are you is certain of it as all that?' "'I am now. I have been thinking hard since this morning.' The deputy realized that this was one of those gentry who stick to you like a leech, and that there was nothing for it but to submit. In a rather bantering tone, he asked, "'Does your thinking enable you to tell us the exact spot where Monsieur Matthias de Gaon

is at this moment?' Renin took out his watch and answered, "'In Paris, Mr. Deputy?' in paris alive then alive and what is more in the pink of hell i am delighted to hear it but then what's the meaning of the footprints around the well and the presence of that revolver in those three shots simply camouflage oh really camouflage contrived by whom by matthias de gon himself that's curious and with what object with the object of passing himself off for dead, and of arranging subsequent matters in such a way that Mr. Vignal was bound to be accused of the death, the murder. An ingenious theory, the deputy agreed, still in a satirical tone.

What do you think of it, Monsieur Vignal? It is a theory which flashed through my own mind, Mr. Deputy, replied Jerome. It is quite likely that, after our struggle and after I had gone, Matthias Dagon conceived a new plan by which, this time, his hatred would be fully gratified. He both loved and detested his wife. He held me in the greatest loathing. This must be his revenge. His revenge would cause him dear, considering that, according to your statement, Matthias Dagon was to receive a second sum of sixty thousand francs from you. He would receive that sum in another quarter, Mr. Deputy. My examination of the financial position of the Dagon family revealed to me

the fact that the father and son had taken out a life insurance policy in each other's favor. With the son dead, or passing for dead, the father would receive the insurance money and indemnify his son. You mean to say, asked the deputy with a smile, that in all this camouflage, as you call it, Mr. Dagon, the elder, would act as his son's accomplice. Renin took up the challenge. Just so, Mr. Deputy, the father and son are accomplices. Then we shall find the son at the father's. You would have found him there last night.

What became of him? He took the train at Pompignan. That's a mere supposition. No, a certainty. A moral certainty, perhaps, but you'll admit there's not the slightest proof. The deputy did not wait for a reply. He considered that he had displayed an excess of good-will, and that patience has its limits, and he put an end to the interview. Not the slightest proof, he repeated, taking up his hat. And above all, above all, there's nothing in what you're you've said that can contradict in the very least the evidence of that relentless witness, the snow. To go to his father, Matthias de Gaon must have left this house. Which way did he go? Hang it all, Monsieur Vignal told you, by the road which leads from here to his father's.

There are no tracks in the snow. Yes, there are. But they show him coming here and not going away from here. It's the same thing. What? Of course it is. There's more than one way away. walking? One doesn't always go ahead by following one's nose. In what other way can one go ahead? By walking backwards, Mr. Deputy. These few words spoken very simply, but in a clear tone, which gave full value to every syllable, produced a profound silence. Those present at once grasped their extreme significance, and by adapting it to the actual happenings perceived in a flash the impenetrable truth, which suddenly appeared to be the most natural thing in the world. Renin continued his argument, stepping backwards in the direction of the window, he said,

If I want to get to that window, I can, of course, walk straight up to it, but I can just as easily turn my back to it and walk that way. In either case, I reach my goal. And he at once proceeded in a vigorous tone, here's the gist of it all. At half-past eight, before the snow fell, Monsieur de Gaon comes home from his father. house. Monsieur Vignal arrives twenty minutes later. There is a long discussion and a struggle, taking up three hours in all. It is then, after M. Vignal has carried off Madame de Gaon and made his escape, that Matthias de Gaon, foaming at the mouth, wild with rage, but suddenly seeing his chance of taking the most terrible revenge, hits upon the ingenious idea of using against his

enemy the very snowfall, upon whose evidence you are now relying. He therefore planned to his own murder, or rather the appearance of his murder, and of his fall to the bottom of the well, and makes off backwards step by step, thus recording his arrival instead of his departure on the white page. The deputy sneered no longer. This eccentric intruder suddenly appeared to him in the light of a person worthy of attention, whom it would not do to make fun of. He asked, and how could he have left his father's house? In a trap, quite simply. who drove it the father this morning the sergeant and i saw the trap and spoke to the father who was going to market as usual the sun was hidden under the tilt he took the train at pompignan and is in paris by now renin's explanation as promised had taken hardly five minutes he had based it solely on logic and the probabilities of the case and yet not a jot was left of the distressing mystery in which they were floundering the darkness was dispelled the whole truth appeared

madame de gon wept for joy and jerome vignade thanked the good genius who was changing the course of events with a stroke of his magic wand shall we examine those footprints together mr deputy asked do you mind the mistake which the sergeant and i made this morning was to investigate only the footprints left by the alleged murderer and to neglect matthias de gon's why indeed should they have attracted our attention yet it was precisely there that the crux of the whole affair was to be found they stepped into the orchard and went to the well it did not need a long examination to observe that many of the footprints were awkward hesitating too deeply sunk at the heel and toe and differing from one another in the angle at which the feet were turned his clumsiness was unavoidable said renan matthias de gon would have needed a regular apprenticeship before his backward progress could have equalled his ordinary gait and both his father and he must have been aware of this at least as regards the zigzagging which you see here since old de gond went out of his way to tell the sergeant that his son had had too much drink and he added indeed it was the detection of this falsehood that suddenly enlightened me when madame de ghan stated that her husband was not drunk i thought of the footprints and guessed the truth the deputy frankly accepted his part in the matter and began to laugh well there's nothing left for it but to send detectives after the bogus corpse on what grass Mr. Deputy, asked Renin. The Vyastogne has committed no offence against the law.

There's nothing criminal in trampling the soil around a well, in shifting the position of a revolver that doesn't belong to you, in firing three shots, or in walking backwards to one's father's house. What can we ask of him? The sixty thousand francs? I presume that this is not Mr. Vignal's intention, and that he does not mean to bring a charge against him. Certainly not, said Jerome.

Well, what then? the insurance policy in favor of the survivor? But there would be no misdemeanor unless the father claimed payment, and I should be greatly surprised if he did. Hello, here the old chap is. You'll soon know all about it. Old Dagon was coming along, gesticulating as he walked. His easy-going features were screwed up to express sorrow and anger.

Where's my son? he cried. It seems the brutes killed him. My poor Matthias dead! oh, that scoundrel of a vignal, and he shook his fist at Jerome. The deputy said, bluntly, A word with you, Mr. Dagon, do you intend to claim your rights under a certain insurance policy? Well, what do you think? said the old man, off his guard. The fact is, your son's not dead.

People are even saying that you were a partner in his little schemes, and that you stuffed him under the tilt of your trap and drove him to the station. The old fellow spat on the ground, stretched out his hand as though he were going to take a solemn oath, stood for an instant without moving, and then, suddenly, changing his mind and his tactics with ingenious cynicism, he relaxed his features, assumed a conciliatory attitude, and burst out laughing. That blagged Matthias! So he tried to pass himself off as dead? What a rascal!

and he reckoned on me to collect the insurance money and send it on to him as if i should be capable of such a low dirty trick you don't know me my boy and without waiting for more shaking with merriment like a jolly old fellow amused with a funny story he took his departure not forgetting however to set his great hobnail boots on each of the compromising footprints which his son had left behind him later when renan went back to the manner to let ortens out he found that she had disappeared he called and asked for her at her cousin ermelins ortens sent down word asking him to excuse her she was feeling a little tired and was lying down capital thought renin capital she avoids me therefore she loves me the end is not far off end of chapter seven chapter eight of the eight strokes of the clock this librovoc's recording is in the public domain the eight strokes of the clock by moris le blan chapter eight at the sign of mercury to madame daniel la rancierre nurbessicourt paris thirty november my dearest friend there has been no letter from you for a fortnight so i don't expect now to receive one for that troublesome date of the fifth of December, which we fixed as the last day of our partnership. I rather wish it would come, because you will then be released from a contract which no longer seems to give you pleasure.

To me, the seven battles which we fought and won together were a time of endless delight and enthusiasm. I was living beside you. I was conscious of all the good which that more active and stirring existence was doing you. My happiness was so great that I dared not speak of it to you or let you see anything of my secret feelings, except my desire to please you and my passionate devotion. Today you have had enough of your brother in arms. Your will shall be law. But though I bow to your decree, may I remind you what it was that I always believed our final adventure would be. May I repeat your words, not one of which I have forgotten. I demand, you said, that you shall restore to me a small antique clasp.

made of a cornelian set in a filigree mount it came to me from my mother and everyone knew that it used to bring her happiness and me too since the day when it vanished from my jewel-case i have had nothing but unhappiness restore it to me my good genius and when i asked you when the clasp had disappeared you answered with a laugh seven years ago or eight or nine i don't know exactly i don't know when i don't know when don't know how. I know nothing about it. You were challenging me, were you not, and you set me that condition because it was one which I could not fulfill. Nevertheless, I promised, and I should like to keep my promise. What I have tried to do, in order to place life before you in a more favorable light, it would seem purposeless if your confidence feels the lack of this talisman to which you attach so great a value. We must not laugh at these little superstitions. they are often the mainspring of our best actions.

Dear friend, if you had helped me, I should have achieved yet one more victory. Alone and hard pushed by the proximity of the date, I have failed, not, however, without placing things on such a footing that the undertaking, if you care to follow it up, has the greatest chance of success. And you will follow it up, won't you? We have entered into a mutual agreement which we are bound to honour. It behooves us within a fixed time to inscribe in the book of our common life eight good stories to which we shall have brought energy, logic, perseverance, some

subtlety and occasionally a little heroism. This is the eighth of them. It is for you to act so that it may be written in its proper place on the 5th of December before the clock strikes eight in the evening. And on that day you will act as I shall now tell you. first of all, and above all, my dear, do not complain that my instructions are fanciful. Each of them is an indispensable condition of success. First of all, cut in your cousin's garden three slender lengths of rush.

Platte them together and bind up the two ends so as to make a rude switch like a child's whiplash. When you get to Paris, buy a long necklace of jet beads, cut into facets, and shorten it so that it consists of 75 beads of almost three. equal size. Under your winter cloak wear a blue woolen gown. On your head a toque with red leaves on it. Round your neck a feather boa. No gloves, no rings. In the afternoon, take a cab along the left bank of the river to the Church of St. Attienne Dumont. At four o'clock exactly, there will be, near the Holy Water Basin just inside the church, an old woman dressed in black, saying her prayers on a silver rosary. She will offer you holy water. Give her your necklace. She will count the beads

and hand it back to you. After this you will walk behind her. You will cross an arm of the sand, and she will lead you down a lonely street in the I. Saint-Louis to a house which you will enter by yourself. On the ground floor of this house, you will find a youngish man with a very pasty complexion. Take off your cloak and then say to him, I have come to fetch my clasp. Do not be astonished by his agitation or dismay. Keep calm in his presence. If he questions you, if he wants to know your reason for applying to him, or what impels you to make that request, give him no explanation.

Your replies must be confined to these brief formulas. I have come to fetch what belongs to me. I don't know you. I don't know your name. But I am obliged to come to you like this. I must have my clasp returned to me. I must. I honestly believe that if you have the firmness not to swerve from that attitude, whatever farce the man may play, you will be completely successful.

But the contest must be a short one, and the issue will depend solely on your confidence in yourself and your certainty of success. It will be a sort of match in which you must defeat your opponent in the first round. If you remain impassive, you will win. If you show hesitation or uneasiness, you can do nothing against him. He will escape you and regain the upper hand after a first moment of distress, and the game will be lost in a few minutes. There is no midway house between victory or defeat. In the latter event, you would be obliged, I beg you to pardon me for saying so, again to accept my collaboration. I offer it you in advance, my dear, and without any conditions, while stating quite plainly that all that I have been able to do for you, and all that I may yet do, gives me me,

no other right than that of thanking you and devoting myself more than ever to the woman who represents my joy, my whole life. Ortenes, after reading the letter, folded it up and put it away at the back of a drawer, saying, in resolute voice, I shan't go. To begin with, although she had formerly attached some slight importance to this trinket, which she had regarded as a mascot, she felt very little interest in it, now that the period of her trials was apparently at an end. She could not forget that figure eight, which was the serial number of the next adventure. To launch herself upon it meant taking up the interrupted chain, going back to Renin, and giving him a pledge which, with his powers of suggestion, he would know how to turn to account. Two days before the 5th of December, she was still in the same frame of mind. So she was on the morning of the fourth. But suddenly, without even having to contend against preliminary subterfuges, She ran out into the garden, cut three lengths of rush, plaited them as she used to do in her childhood,

and at twelve o'clock had herself driven to the station. She was uplifted by an eager curiosity. She was unable to resist all the amusing and novel sensations which the adventure, proposed by Renin, promised her. It was really too tempting. The jet necklace, the toop with the autumn leaves, the old woman with the silver rosary, How could she resist their mysterious appeal, and how could she refuse this opportunity of showing Renin what she was capable of doing?

And then, after all, she said to herself, laughing, he's summoning me to Paris. Now, eight o'clock is dangerous to me, at a spot three hundred miles from Paris in that old deserted chateau d'Alanque, but nowhere else. The only clock that can strike the threatening hour is down there, under lock and key, a prisoner. She reached Paris that evening. On the morning of the fifth she went out and bought a jet necklace, which she reduced to 75 beads, put on a blue gown and a tope with red leaves, and at four o'clock precisely entered the Church of Saint-Atienne Dumont. Her heart was throbbing violently. This time she was alone, and how acutely she now felt the strength of that support which, from unreflecting fear rather

than any reasonable motive she had thrust aside. She looked around her, almost hoping to see him, but there was no one there. No one except an old lady in black, standing beside the holy water basin. Ortenes went up to her. The old lady, who held a silver rosary in her hands, offered her holy water, and then began to count the beads of the necklace which Ortenz gave her. She whispered, "'Seventy-five. That's right.' Without another word, she toddled along under the light of the street lamps, crossed the Ponte d'Eaunel to the Ile-Sin-Luie, and went down an empty street, leading to a cross-roads, where she stopped in front of an old house with wrought-iron balconies.

Go in, she said, and the old lady went away. Ortenes now saw a prosperous-looking shop which occupied almost the whole of the ground floor, and whose windows, blazing with electric light, displayed a huddled array of a whole thing. old furniture and antiquities. She stood there for a few seconds, gazing at it absently. A signboard bore the words, the mercury, together with the name of the owner of the shop, Pankaldi. Higher up, on a projecting cornice which ran along a level with the first floor, a small niche sheltered a terracotta mercury poised on one foot, with wings to his sandals and the caduceus in his hand, who, as Ochtens noted, was leaning a little too far forward in

ardor of his flight, and ought logically to have lost his balance and taken a header into the street, she said under her breath. She turned the handle of the door and walked in. Despite the ringing of the bells actuated by the opening door, no one came to meet her. The shop seemed to be empty. However, at the extreme end, there was a room at the back of the shop, and after that another, both crammed with furniture and knick-knacks, many of which looked very valuable. Ortenes followed a narrow gangway which twisted and turned between two walls built up of cupboards, cabinets, and console tables, went up two steps and found herself in the last room of all. A man was sitting at a writing-desk and looking through some account-books. Without turning his head,

he said, I'm at your service, madame. Please look round you. This room contained nothing but articles of a special character which gave it the appearance of some alchemist's slaborative. in the Middle Ages, stuffed owls, skeletons, skulls, copper olympics, astrolabs, and all around, hanging on the walls, amulets of every description, mainly hands of ivory or coral, with two fingers pointing to ward off ill luck. Are you wanting anything in particular, madame? asked Monsieur Pankaldi, closing his desk and rising from his chair. It's the man, thought Ortenes.

He had, in fact, an uncouthful. commonly pasty complexion. A little forked beard, flecked with gray, lengthened his face, which was surmounted by a bald, pallid forehead, beneath which gleamed a pair of small, prominent, restless, shifty eyes. Ortenes, who had not removed her veil or cloak, replied, I want a clasp. There in this showcase, he said, leading the way to the connecting room. Ortenes glanced over the glass case and said, no, no, I don't see what I'm looking for. I don't want just any clasp,

but a clasp which I lost out of a jewel case some years ago and which I have to look for here. She was astounded to see the commotion displayed on his features. His eyes became haggard. Here? I don't think you are in the least likely. What sort of clasp is it? A Cornelian, mounted in gold filigree, of the 1830 period.

i don't i understand he stammered why do you come to me she now removed her veil and laid aside her cloak he stepped back as though terrified by the sight of her and whispered the blue gal the toque and can i believe my eyes the jet necklace it was perhaps the whiplash formed of three rushes that excited him most violent He pointed his finger at it, began to stagger where he stood, and ended by beating the air with his arms, like a drowning man, and fainting away in a chair. Ortenes did not move. Whatever farce he may play, Renin had written, have the courage to remain impassive. Perhaps he was not playing a farce. Nevertheless, she forced herself to be calm and indifferent. This lasted for a minute or two, after which Monsieur Pankaldi recovered from his swoop.

wiped away the perspiration streaming down his forehead and striving to control himself resumed in a trembling voice why did you apply to me because the clasp is in your possession who told you that he said without denying the accusation how do you know i know because it is so nobody has told me anything i came here positive that i should find my clasp and with the immovable determination to take it away with me. But do you know me? Do you know my name? I don't know you. I did not know your name before I read it over your shop. To me, you are simply the man who is going to give me back what belongs to me. He was greatly agitated. He kept on walking to and fro in a small, empty space, surrounded by a circle of piled-up furniture, at which he hit out idiotically, at the risk of bringing it down. Ortenes felt that she had the

the whip hand of him, and profiting by his confusion, she said suddenly in a commanding and threatening tone, "'Where is the thing? You must give it back to me. I insist upon it.' Pankaldi gave way to a moment of despair. He folded his hands and mumbled a few words of entreaty. Then, defeated and suddenly resigned, he said, more distinctly, "'You insist?' "'I do. You must give it to me.' "'Yes, yes, I must.' I agree.

Speak, she ordered, more harshly still. Speak, no, but write. I will write my secret, and that will be the end of me. He turned to his desk and feverishly wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper, which he put into an envelope and sealed it. See, he said, here's my secret. It was my whole life. And so saying, he suddenly pressed against his temple a revolver which he

had produced from under a pile of papers and fired. With a quick movement, Ortenz struck up his arm. The bullet struck the mirror of a cheval glass, but Pankaldi collapsed and began to groan, as though he were wounded. Ortenes made a great effort not to lose her composure. Renin warned me, she reflected. The man's a play after. He has kept the envelope. He has kept his revolver. I won't be taken in by him. Nevertheless, she realized that, despite his apparent calmness, the attempt at suicide and the revolver shot had completely unnerved her. All her energies were dispersed, like the sticks of a bundle whose string has been cut, and she had a painful impression that the man, who was groveling at her

feet, was in reality slowly getting the better of her. She sat down, exhausted. As Gennin had foretold, the duel had not lasted longer than a few minutes, but it was she who had succumbed, thanks to her feminine nerves, and at the very moment when she felt entitled to believe that she had won. The man Pankaldi was fully aware of this, and without troubling to invent a transition, he ceased his Jeremiahids, leapt to his feet, cut a sort of agile caper before Ortenza's eyes and cried, in a jeering tone, now we are going to have a little chat, but it would be a nuisance to be at the mercy of the first passing customer, wouldn't it? He ran to the street door, opened it and pulled down the iron shutter which closed the shop.

Then, still hopping and skipping, he came back to Ortenes. Oth, I really thought I was done for. One more effort, madame, and you would have pulled it off. But then I'm such a simple chap. It seemed to me that you had come from the back of beyond as an emissary of Providence to call me to account. And like a fool, I was about to give the thing back. Ah, Mademoiselle Ortenes, let me call you so.

I used to know you by that name. Mademoiselle Orten's, what you lack, to use a vulgar expression, is gut. He sat down beside her, and with a malicious look, said savagely, The time has come to speak out. Who contrived this business? Not you, eh? It's not in your style. Then who?

I have always been honest in my life, scrupulously honest, except once, in the matter of that clasp. and whereas I thought the story was buried and forgotten, here it is suddenly raked up again. Why? That's what I want to know. Ortenes was no longer even attempting to fight. He was bringing to bear upon her all his virile strength, all his spite, all his fears, all the threats expressed in his furious gestures and on his features, which were both ridiculous and evil. Speak, I want to know. If I have a secret foe, let me.

defend myself against him. Who is he? Who sent you here? Who urged you to take action? Is it a rival incensed by my good luck, who wants in his turn to benefit by the clasp? Speak, can't you? Damn it all! Or I swear by heaven, I'll make you! She had an idea that he was reaching out for his revolver and stepped back, holding her arms before her in the hope of escaping. They thus struggled against each other, and Ortenes, who was becoming more and more frightened, not so much of the attack as of her assailant's distorted face, was beginning to scream, when Pankaldi suddenly stood motionless, with his arms before him, his fingers outstretched, and his eyes staring above Ortenes' head.

"'Who's there? How did you get in?' he asked in a stifled voice. Ortenes did not even need to turn round to feel assured that Renin was coming to her assistance, and that it was his inexplicable appearance that was causing the dealer such dismay. As a matter of fact, a slender figure stole through a heap of easy chairs and sofas, and Renin came forward with a tranquil step. Who are you? repeated Pankaldi. Where do you come from? From up there, he said very amiably, pointing to the ceiling.

From up there? Yes, from the first floor. I have been the tenant of the floor above this. for the past three months. I heard a noise just now. Someone was calling out for help, so I came down. But how did you get in here? By the staircase. What staircase? The iron staircase at the end of the shop. The man who owned it before you had a flat on my floor and used to go up and down by that hidden staircase. You had the door shut off. I opened it. But by what right, sir? It amounts to breaking in.

Breaking in is allowed when there's a fellow creature to be rescued. Once more, who are you? Prince Renin, and a friend of this ladies, said Renin, bending over Orteens and kissing her hand. Pankaldi seemed to be choking and mumbled. Oh, I

understand. You instigated the plot. It was you who sent the lady. It was, Mr. Pankaldi. It was. And what are your intent? my intentions are irreproachable no violence simply a little interview when that is over you will hand over what i in my turn have come to fetch what the clasp that never shouted the dealer don't say no it is a foregone conclusion no power on earth sir can compel me to do such a thing shall we send for your wife madame pancaldi will perhaps realize the position better than you do the idea of no longer being alone with this unexpected adversary seemed to appeal to pancaldi there was a bell on the table beside him he struck it three times capital exclaimed renin you see my dear m pancaldi is becoming quite amiable not a trace left of the devil broken loose who was going for you just now no m pancaldi only has to find himself dealing with a man to recover his qualities of courtesy and kindness

a perfect sheep which does not mean that things will go quite of themselves far from it there is no more obstinate animal than a sheep right at the end of the shop between the dealer's writing-desk and the winding staircase a curtain was raised admitting a woman who was holding a door open she might have been thirty years of age very simply dressed she looked with the apron on her more like a cook than like the mistress of a household but she had an attractive face and a pleasing figure ortense who had followed renin was surprised to recognize her as a maid whom she had had in her service when a girl what is that you lyciennes are you madame pancaldi the newcomer looked at her recognized her also and seemed embarrassed renin said to her your husband and i need your assistance madame pancaldy to settle a rather complicated matter a matter in which you played an important part she came forward without a word obviously ill at ease asking her husband who did not take his eyes off her what is it what do they want with me what is he referring to it's about the clasp pancaldi whispered under his breath these few words were enough to make madame pancaldi realize to the full the seriousness of her position and she did not try to keep her countenance or to retort with futile protests. She sank into a chair, sighing.

Oh, that's it. I understand. Mademoiselle Lortense has found the track. Oh, it's all up with us. There was a moment's respite. The struggle between the adversaries had hardly begun before the husband and wife adopted the attitude of defeated persons whose only hope lay in the victor's clemency.

staring motionless before her, Madame Pankaldi began to cry. Renin bent over her and said, Do you mind if we go over the case from the beginning? We shall then see things more clearly, and I am sure that our interview will lead to a perfectly natural solution. This is how things happened. Nine years ago, when you were ladies-made to Mademoiselle Orten's in the country, you made the acquaintance of Mr. Pankaldi, who soon became your lover.

you were both of you Corsicans. In other words, you came from a country where superstitions are very strong and where questions of good and bad luck, the evil eye, and spells and charms, exert a profound influence over the lives of one and all. Now it was said that your young mistress's clasp had always brought luck to its owners. That was why, in a weak moment prompted by Mr. Pankaldi, you stole the clasp. Six months afterwards you became Madame Pancelde. That is your whole story, is it not, told in a few sentences? The whole story of two people who would have remained honest members of society if they had been able to resist that casual temptation. I need not tell you how you both succeeded in life, and how, possessing the talisman,

believing its powers and trusting in yourselves, you rose to the first rank of antiquarians. Today, well off, owning this shop, the mercury, you attribute the success of your unres. undertakings to that clasp. To lose it would, to your eyes, spell bankruptcy and poverty. Your whole life has been centered upon it. It is your fetish. It is the little household God who watches over you and guides your steps. It is there, somewhere, hidden in this jungle. And no one, of course, would ever have suspected anything, for I repeat, you are decent people, but for this one lapse. If an accident had not led me to look into your affairs. renin paused and continued that was two months ago two months of minute investigations which presented no difficulty to me because having discovered your trail i hired the flat overhead and was able to use that staircase

but all the same two months wasted to a certain extent because i have not yet succeeded and heaven knows how i have ransacked this shop of yours there is not a piece of furniture that i have left unsearched not a plank in the floor that i have not inspecting all to no purpose. Yes, there was one thing, an incidental discovery. In a secret recess in your writing-table, Pankaldi, I turned up a little account-book in which you have set down your remorse, your uneasiness, your fear of punishment, and your dread of God's wrath. It was highly imprudent of you, Pankaldi. People don't write such confessions, and above all they don't leave them lying about. Be this as it may, I read them and noted, one passage which struck me as particularly important, and was of use to me in preparing my plan of campaign. Should she come to me, the woman whom I robbed, should she come to me as I saw her

in her garden while Lucien was taking the clasp, should she appear to me wearing the blue gown and the tuk of red leaves, with a jet necklace and the whip of three plaited rushes which she was carrying that day, should she appear to me thus and say, I have come to claim my property, then I shall understand that her conduct is inspired from on high and that I must obey the decree of providence. That is what is written in your book, Pankaldi, and it explains the conduct of the lady whom you call Mademoiselle Ortenes. Acting on my instructions, and in accordance with the setting thought out by yourself, she came to you, from the back of beyond, to use your own expression. A little more self-possession on her part, and you know that she would have won the day. unfortunately you are a wonderful actor. Your sham suicide put her out, and you understood that this was not a decree of Providence, but simply an offensive on the part of your former victim. I had no choice, therefore, but to intervene. Here I am, and now let's finish the business. Pankaldi, that clasp.

No, said the dealer, who seemed to recover all his energy at the very thought of restoring the clasp. And you, Madame Pankaldi. I don't know where it is, the wife declared. Very well, then let us come to deeds. Madame Pankaldi, you have a son of seven whom you love with all your heart. This is Thursday, and as on every Thursday your little boy is to come home alone from his aunts. Two of my friends are posted on the road by which he returns, and in the absence of instructions

to the contrary, will kidnap him as he passes. Madame Pancaldi lost her head at once. My son! Oh, please, please, not that. I swear that I know nothing. My husband would never consent to confide in me. Rinin continued. Next point.

This evening I shall lodge an information with the public prosecutor, evidence, the confessions in the account book, consequences, action by the police, search of the premises and the rest. Pankalini was silent. The others had a feeling that all these threats did not affect him, and that protected by his fetish he believed himself to be invulnerable. But his wife fell on her knees at Renan's feet and stammered.

No, no, I entreat you. It would mean going to prison, and I don't want to go. And they're my son. I entreat you. Ortenes, seized with compassion, took Renin to one side. Poor woman, let me intercede for her. Set your mind at rest, he said. Nothing is going to happen to her son.

But you're too friends, sheer bluff. Your application to the public prosecutor? A mere threat. Then what are you trying to do? To frighten them out of their wits, in the hope of making them drop a remark, a word which will tell us what we want to know we've tried every other means this is the last and it is a method which i find nearly always succeeds remember our adventures but if the word would you expect to hear is not spoken it must be spoken said renin in a low voice we must finish the matter the hour is at hand his eyes met hers and she blushed crimson at the thought that the hour to which he was alluding was the eighth

and that he had no other object than to finish the matter before that eighth hour struck. So you see, on the one hand, what you are risking, he said to the Pankal de Pair. The disappearance of your child, and prison. Prison for certain, since there is the book with its confessions. And now, on the other hand, here is my offer. Twenty thousand francs if you hand over the clasp immediately this minute. Remember, it isn't worth three louis. No reply. Madame Pankaldi was crying.

Vinen resumed, pausing between each proposal. I'll double my offer. I'll treble it. Hang it all, Pankalty. You're unreasonable. I suppose you want me to make it a round sum. All right, a hundred thousand francs.

He held out his hand as if there was no doubt that they would give him the clasp. Madame Pankalde was the first to yield, and did so with a sudden outburst of race. against her husband I'll confess can't you speak up where have you hidden it look here you aren't going to be obstinate what if you are it means ruin and poverty and then there's our boy speak out do Ortenes whispered renan this madness the clasp has no value never fear said renin he's not going to accept but look at him how excited he is exactly what I wanted. This, you know, is really exciting,

to make people lose their heads, to rob them of all control over what they are thinking and saying, and in the midst of this confusion, in the storm that tosses them to and fro, to catch sight of the tiny spark which will flash forth somewhere or other. Look at him, look at the fellow, a hundred thousand francs for a valueless pebble.

If not, prison, it's enough to turn any man's head. head. Pankaldi, in fact, was grey in the face. His lips were trembling, and a drop of saliva was trickling from their corners. It was easy to guess the seething turmoil of his whole being, shaken by conflicting emotions, by the clash between greed and fear. Suddenly he burst out, and it was obvious that his words were pouring forth at random, without his knowing in the least what he was saying. A hundred thousand francs. Two hundred thousand. A hundred thousand. A hundred thousand. 500,000, a million, a two fig for your millions. What's the use of millions? One loses them. They disappear. They go. There's only one thing that counts. Luck. It's on your side or else against you, and luck has been on my side these last nine years. It has never betrayed me, and you expect me to betray it. Why, out of fear? Prison? My son? Bosch! No harm will come to me, so.

long as I compel luck to work on my behalf. It's my servant. It's my friend. It clings to the clasp. How? How can I tell? It's the Cornelian, no doubt. There are magic stones which hold happiness as others hold fire, or sulphur or gold. Renin kept his eyes fixed upon him, watching for the least word, the least modulation of the voice. The curiosity dealer was now laughing, with a nervous laugh, while resuming the self-control of a man who feels sure of himself, and he walked up to Rhenyon with jerky movements that revealed an increasing resolution. Millions? My dear sir, I wouldn't have them as a gift. The little bit of stone which I possess is worth much more than that, and the proof of it lies in all the pains which you are at

to take it from me. Ha! Ha! months devoted to looking for it as you yourself confess. Months in which you turned everything topsy-turvy, while I, who suspected nothing, did not even defend myself. Why should I? The little thing defended itself all alone. It does not want to be discovered, and it shan't be. It likes being here. It presides over a good, honest business that satisfies it. Pankaldi's luck. Why, it's known to all the neighborhood, among all the dealers. I proclaim it from the house-tops. I'm a lucky man. I even made so bold as to take the God of luck, Mercury, as my patron. He too protects me.

See, I've got Mercury's all over my shock. Look up there on that shelf, a whole row of statuettes, like the one over the front door. Proof signed by a great sculptor who went smash and sold them to me. Would you like one, my dear sir? It will bring you luck, too. Take your pick, a present from Pencaldy to make up to you for your defeat. Does that suit you? he put a stool against the wall under the shelf took down a statuette and plumped it into rinian's arms and laughing heartily growing more and more excited as his enemy seemed to yield ground and to fall back before his spirited attack he explained

well done he accepts and the fact that he accepts shows that we are all agreed madame pancaldi don't distress yourself your son's coming back and nobody's going to prison good-bye mademoiselle good-day sir hope to see you again if you want to speak to me at any time just give three thumps on the ceiling good-bye don't forget your present and may mercury be kind to you good-bye my dear prince good-bye mademoiselle he hustled them to the iron staircase gripped each of them by the arm in turn and pushed them up to the little door hidden at the top of the stairs and the strange thing was that renan made no protest he did not attempt to resist he allowed himself to be led along like a naughty child that is taken up to bed less than five minutes had elapsed between the moment when he made his offer to pancaldy and the moment when pancaldy turned him out of the shop with a statuette in his arms the dining-room and drawing-room of the flat which renin had taken on the first floor looked out upon the street the table in the dining-room was laid for two forgive me won't you said renin as he opened the door of the drawing-room for ortens i thought that whatever happened i should most likely see you this evening and that we might as well dine together don't refuse me this kindness which will be the last favour granted in our last adventure aughtens did not refuse him the manner in which the battle had ended was so different from everything that she had seen hitherto that she felt disconcerted at any rate why should she refuse seeing that the terms of the contract had not been fulfilled renin left the room to give an order to his manservant two minutes later he came back for ortens it was then a little past seven there were flowers on the table and the statue of mercury pancali

his present stood overtopping them may the god of luck preside over our repast said renin he was full of animation and expressed his great delight at having her sitting opposite him yes he exclaimed i had to resort to powerful means and attract you by the bait of the most fabulous enterprises you must confess that my letter was jolly smart the three rushes the blue gown simply irresistible and when i had thrown in a few puzzles of my own invention, such as the seventy-five beads of the necklace and the old woman with the silver rosary, I knew that you were bound to succumb to the temptation. Don't be angry with me. I wanted to see you, and I wanted it to be today. You have come, and I thank you. He next told her how he had got on the track of the stolen trinket. You hoped, didn't you, in laying down that condition, that I shouldn't be able to fulfill it? You made a mistake, my dear. The test.

at least at the beginning was easy enough, because it was based upon an undoubted fact, the talismanic character attributed to the clasp. I had only to hunt about and see whether among the people around you, among your servants, there was ever anyone upon whom that character may have exercised some attraction. Now, on the list of persons which I succeeded in drawing up, I at once noticed the name of Mademoiselle Lucien as coming from Corsica. This was my starting point. the rest was a mere concatenation of events. Ortenes stared at him in amazement. How was it that he was accepting his defeat

with such a careless air, and even talking in a tone of triumph, whereas really he had been soundly beaten by Pankaldy and even made to look just a trifle ridiculous? She could not help letting him feel this, and the fashion in which she did so betrayed a certain disappointment, a certain humiliation.

Everything is a concatenation of events. Very well. But the chain is broken, because when all is said, though you know the thief, you did not succeed in laying hands upon the stolen clasp. The reproach was obvious. Renin had not accustomed her to failure, and furthermore she was irritated to see

how heedlessly he was accepting a blow, which, after all, until the ruin of any hopes that he might have entertained. He did not reply. He had filled there two glasses, with champagne and was slowly emptying his own, with his eyes fixed on the statuette of mercury. He turned it about on its pedestal, and examined it with the eye of a delighted connoisseur. What beautiful thing is a harmonious line. Color does not uplift me so much as outline,

proportion, symmetry, and all the wonderful properties of form. Look at this little statue. Pankaldi's right. It's the work of a great artist. The legs are both slender and muscular. The whole figure gives an impression of buoyancy and speed. It is very well done. There's only one fault, a very slight one. Perhaps you've not noticed it. Yes, I have, said Ortenes. It struck me the moment I saw the sign outside. You mean, don't you, a certain lack of balance? The God is leaning over too far on the leg that carries him. He looks as though he were going to pitch forward. That's very clever of you, said the the fault is almost imperceptible and it needs a trained eye to see it really however as a matter of logic the weight of the body ought to have its way and in accordance with natural laws the little god ought to take a header

after a pause he continued i noticed that flaw in the first day how was it that i did not draw an inference at once i was shocked because the artist had sinned against an aesthetic law whereas i ought to to have been shocked because he had overlooked a physical law, as though art and nature were not blended together, and as though the laws of gravity could be disturbed without some fundamental reason. What do you mean? asked Ortenes, puzzled by these reflections, which seemed so far removed from their secret thoughts. What do you mean? Oh, nothing, he said.

I am only surprised that I didn't understand sooner why Mercury did not plump forward, as he should have done. done. And what is the reason? The reason? I imagine that Pankaldi, when pulling the statue out about to make it serve his purpose, must have disturbed its balance, but that this balance was restored by something which holds the little god back, and which makes up for his really too dangerous posture. Something, you say? Yes, a counterweight. Ortenes gave a start. She too was beginning to see a little light. She murmured, A counterweight, are you thinking that it might be in the pedestal?

Why not? Is that possible? But if so, how did Pankelly come to give you this statuette? He never gave me this one, Renid declared. I took this one myself. But where? And when? Just now, while you were in the drawing-room, I got out of that window, which is just over the signboard, and beside the niche containing the little God, and I exchanged the two, that is to say, I took the statue which was outside, and put the one which Pankaldi gave me in its place. But doesn't that one lean forward? No, no more than the others do, on the shelf in his shop.

But Pankaldy is not an artist. A lack of equilibrium does not impress him. He will see nothing wrong, and he will continue to think himself favored by luck, which is another way of saying that luck will continue to favor him. Meanwhile, here's the statuette, the one used for the sign. Am I to break the pedestal and take your clasp out of the leaden sheath? Saundered to the back of the pedestal, which keeps mercury steady? No, no, there's no need for that, Ortens hurriedly murmured.

Renin's intuition is subtlety, the skill with which he had managed the whole business. To her, for the moment, all these things remained in the background. But she suddenly remembered that the eighth adventure was completed, that Renin had surmounted every obstacle, that the test had turned to his advantage, and that the extreme limit of time fixed for the last of the adventures, was not yet reached. He had the cruelty to call attention to the fact. "'A quarter to eight,' he said. an oppressive silence fell between them both felt its discomfort to such a degree that they hesitated to make the least movement in order to break it renin jested that worthy m pencaldy how good it was of him to tell me what i wished to know

i knew however that by exasperating him i should end by picking up the missing clue in what he said it was just as though one were to hand some one of flint and steel and suggesting him that he was to use it In the end, the spark is obtained. In my case, what produced the spark was the unconscious but inevitable comparison which he drew between the Cornelian clasp, the element of luck, and Mercury, the god of luck. That was enough. I understood that this association of ideas arose from his having actually associated the two factors of luck, by embodying one in the other, or to speak more plainly by hiding the trinket in the statuette. And I at once remembered the mercury outside the door and its defective poise.

Renin suddenly interrupted himself. It seemed to him that all his remarks were falling on deaf ears. Ortenes had put her hand to her forehead, and thus veiling her eyes, sat motionless and remote. She was indeed not listening. The end of this particular adventure, and the manner in which Renin had acted on this occasion, no longer interested her. What she was thinking of was the complex series of adventures amid which

she had been living for the past three months, and the wonderful behavior of the man who had offered her his devotion. She saw as in a magic picture the fabulous deeds performed by him, all the good that he had done, the lives saved, the sorrows assuaged, the order restored, wherever his masterly will had been brought to bear. Nothing was impossible to him. Nothing was impossible to him. him. What he undertook to do he did. Every aim that he set before him was attained in advance, and all this without excessive effort, with the calmness of one who knows his own strength, and knows that nothing can resist it. Then what could she do against him? Why should she defend herself, and how? If he demanded that she should yield, would he not know how to make her do so?

And would this last adventure be any more difficult for him than the others? supposing that she ran away did the wide world contain a retreat in which she would be safe from his pursuit from the first moment of their first meeting the end was certain since renin had decreed that it should be so however she still cast about for weapons her protection of some sort and she said to herself that though he had fulfilled the eight conditions and restored the cornelian clasp to her before the eighth hour had struck she was nevertheless protected by the fact that this eighth hour was to strike on the clock of the chateau de alin and not elsewhere it was a formal compact renin had said that day gazing on the lips which he longed to kiss the old brass pendulum will start swinging again and when on the fixed date the clock once more strikes eight then she looked up he was not moving either but sat solemnly patiently waiting she was on the point of saying she was even preparing her words you know our agreement says it must be the alenre clock all the other conditions have been fulfilled but not this one so i am free am i not i am entitled not to keep my promise which moreover i never made but which in any case falls to the ground and i am perfectly free released from any scruple of conscience she had not time to speak at that precise moment there was a click behind her like that of a clock about to strike a first stroke sounded then a second then a third

orthens moaned she had recognized the very sound of the old clock the auangre clock which three months ago by breaking in a supernatural manner the silence of the deserted chateau had set both of them on the road of the eight adventures she counted the strokes the clock struck eight she murmured half swooning and hiding her face in her hands the clock the clock is here the one from over there i recognize its voice she said no more she felt that trenin had his eyes fixed upon her and this sapped all her energies besides had she been able to recover them she would have been no better off nor sought to offer him the least resistance for the reason that she did not wish to resist all the adventures were over but one remained to be undertaken the anticipation of which wiped out the memory of all the rest it was the adventure of love the most delightful the most bewildering the most adorable of all adventures she accepted fate's decree rejoicing in all that might come because she was in love she smiled in spite of herself as she reflected that happiness was again to enter her life at the very moment when her well-beloved was bringing her the cornelian clasp the clock struck the hour for the second time ortens raised her eyes to renin she struggled a few seconds longer but she was like a charmed bird incapable of any movement of rohuis but she was like a charmed bird incapable of any movement of rohuis but she was like a charmed bird incapable of any movement of her own. bolt and at the eighth stroke she fell upon his breast and offered him her lips end of chapter eight end of the eight strokes of the clock by maurice le