The Golden Triangle: The Return of Arsène Lupin. Leblanc Maurice

in the tragedy that was being enacted before his eyes? Should he intervene? Was it his duty to prevent Coralie from committing the irreparable deed? Or should he commit it himself by breaking the man's head with a bullet from his revolver?

      Yet, from the beginning, Patrice had really been swayed by a feeling which, mingling with all the others, gradually paralyzed him and rendered any inward struggle illusory: a feeling of curiosity driven to its utmost pitch. It was not the everyday curiosity of unearthing a squalid secret, but the higher curiosity of penetrating the mysterious soul of a woman whom he loved, who was carried away by the rush of events and who suddenly, becoming once more mistress of herself, was of her own accord and with impressive calmness taking the most fearful resolution. Thereupon other questions forced themselves upon him. What prompted her to take this resolution? Was it revenge? Was it punishment? Was it the gratification of hatred?

      Patrice Belval remained where he was.

      Coralie raised her arm. Her husband, in front of her, no longer even attempted to make those movements of despair which indicate a last effort. There was neither entreaty nor menace in his eyes. He waited in resignation.

      Not far from them, old Siméon, still bound, half-lifted himself on his elbows and stared at them in dismay.

      Coralie raised her arm again. Her whole frame seemed to grow larger and taller. An invisible force appeared to strengthen and stiffen her whole being, summoning all her energies to the service of her will. She was on the point of striking. Her eyes sought the place at which she should strike.

      Yet her eyes became less hard and less dark. It even seemed to Patrice that there was a certain hesitation in her gaze and that she was recovering not her usual gentleness, but a little of her womanly grace.

      "Ah, Little Mother Coralie," murmured Patrice, "you are yourself again! You are the woman I know. Whatever right you may think you have to kill that man, you will not kill him.. and I prefer it so."

      Slowly Coralie's arm dropped to her side. Her features relaxed. Patrice could guess the immense relief which she felt at escaping from the obsessing purpose that was driving her to murder. She looked at her dagger with astonishment, as though she were waking from a hideous nightmare. And, bending over her husband she began to cut his bonds.

      She did so with visible repugnance, avoiding his touch, as it were, and shunning his eyes. The cords were severed one by one. Essarès was free.

      What happened next was in the highest measure unexpected. With not a word of thanks to his wife, with not a word of anger either, this man who had just undergone the most cruel torture and whose body still throbbed with pain hurriedly tottered barefoot to a telephone standing on a table. He was like a hungry man who suddenly sees a piece of bread and snatches at it greedily as the means of saving himself and returning to life. Panting for breath, Essarès took down the receiver and called out:

      "Central 40.39."

      Then he turned abruptly to his wife:

      "Go away," he said.

      She seemed not to hear. She had knelt down beside old Siméon and was setting him free also.

      Essarès at the telephone began to lose patience:

      "Are you there?.. Are you there?.. I want that number to-day, please, not next week! It's urgent… 40.39… It's urgent, I tell you!"

      And, turning to Coralie, he repeated, in an imperious tone:

      "Go away!"

      She made a sign that she would not go away and that, on the contrary, she meant to listen. He shook his fist at her and again said:

      "Go away, go away!.. I won't have you stay in the room. You go away too, Siméon."

      Old Siméon got up and moved towards Essarès. It looked as though he wished to speak, no doubt to protest. But his action was undecided; and, after a moment's reflection, he turned to the door and went without uttering a word.

      "Go away, will you, go away!" Essarès repeated, his whole body expressing menace.

      But Coralie came nearer to him and crossed her arms obstinately and defiantly. At that moment, Essarès appeared to get his call, for he asked:

      "Is that 40.39? Ah, yes."

      He hesitated. Coralie's presence obviously displeased him greatly, and he was about to say things which he did not wish her to know. But time, no doubt, was pressing. He suddenly made up his mind and, with both receivers glued to his ears, said, in English:

      "Is that you, Grégoire?.. Essarès speaking… Hullo!.. Yes, I'm speaking from the Rue Raynouard… There's no time to lose… Listen.."

      He sat down and went on:

      "Look here. Mustapha's dead. So is the colonel… Damn it, don't interrupt, or we're done for!.. Yes, done for; and you too… Listen, they all came, the colonel, Bournef, the whole gang, and robbed me by means of violence and threats… I finished the colonel, only he had written to the police, giving us all away. The letter will be delivered soon. So you understand, Bournef and his three ruffians are going to disappear. They'll just run home and pack up their papers; and I reckon they'll be with you in an hour, or two hours at most. It's the refuge they're sure to make for. They prepared it themselves, without suspecting that you and I know each other. So there's no doubt about it. They're sure to come.."

      Essarès stopped. He thought for a moment and resumed:

      "You still have a second key to each of the rooms which they use as bedrooms? Is that so?.. Good. And you have duplicates of the keys that open the cupboards in the walls of those rooms, haven't you?.. Capital. Well, as soon as they get to sleep, or rather as soon as you are certain that they are sound asleep, go in and search the cupboards. Each of them is bound to hide his share of the booty there. You'll find it quite easily. It's the four pocket-books which you know of. Put them in your bag, clear out as fast as you can and join me."

      There was another pause. This time it was Essarès listening. He replied:

      "What's that you say? Rue Raynouard? Here? Join me here? Why, you must be mad! Do you imagine that I can stay now, after the colonel's given me away? No, go and wait for me at the hotel, near the station. I shall be there by twelve o'clock or one in the afternoon, perhaps a little later. Don't be uneasy. Have your lunch quietly and we'll talk things over.. Hullo! Did you hear?.. Very well, I'll see that everything's all right. Good-by for the present."

      The conversation was finished; and it looked as if Essarès, having taken all his measures to recover possession of the four million francs, had no further cause for anxiety. He hung up the receiver, went back to the lounge-chair in which he had been tortured, wheeled it round with its back to the fire, sat down, turned down the bottoms of his trousers and pulled on his socks and shoes, all a little painfully and accompanied by a few grimaces, but calmly, in the manner of a man who has no need to hurry.

      Coralie kept her eyes fixed on his face.

      "I really ought to go," thought Captain Belval, who felt a trifle embarrassed at the thought of overhearing what the husband and wife were about to say.

      Nevertheless he stayed. He was not comfortable in his mind on Coralie's account.

      Essarès fired the first shot:

      "Well," he asked, "what are you looking at me like that for?"

      "So it's true?" she murmured, maintaining her attitude of defiance. "You leave me no possibility of doubt?"

      "Why should I lie?" he snarled. "I should not have telephoned in your hearing if I hadn't been sure that you were here all the time."

      "I was up there."

      "Then you heard everything?"

      "Yes."

      "And saw everything?"

      "Yes."

      "And, seeing the torture which they inflicted on me and hearing my cries, you did nothing to defend me, to defend me against torture, against death!"

      "No, for I knew the truth."

      "What truth?"

      "The truth which I suspected without daring to admit