The Secret of the Night by Gaston Leroux (ebook reader for surface pro txt) 📗

myself on him, from rushing upon him as he opened the door? Ah, I would have, I would have... we would know.”

“No. At the least noise he would have closed the door. A turn of the key and he would have escaped forever. And he would have been warned.”

“Careless boy! Why then, if you knew he was going to come, didn’t you leave me in the bedroom and you watch below yourself?”

“Because so long as I was below he would not have come. He only comes when there is no one downstairs.”

“Ah, Saints Peter and Paul pity a poor woman. Who do you think it is, then? Who do you think it is? I can’t think any more. Tell me, tell me that. You ought to know—you know everything. Come—who? I demand the truth. Who? Still some agent of the Committee, of the Central Committee? Still the Nihilists?”

“If it was only that!” said Rouletabille quietly.

“You have sworn to drive me mad! What do you mean by your ‘if it was only that’?”

Rouletabille, imperturbable, did not reply.

“What have you done with the potion?” said he.

“The potion? The glass of the crime! I have locked it in my room, in the cupboard—safe, safe!”

“Ah, but, madame, it is necessary to replace it where you took it from.”

“What!”

“Yes, after having poured the poison into a phial, to wash the glass and fill it with another potion.”

“You are right. You think of everything. If the general wakes and wants his potion, he must not be suspicious of anything, and he must be able to have his drink.”

“It is not necessary that he should drink.”

“Well, then, why have the drink there?”

“So that the person can be sure, madame, that if he has not drunk it is simply because he has not wished to. A pure chance, madame, that he is not poisoned. You understand me this time?”

“Yes, yes. O Christ! But how now, if the general wakes and wishes to drink his narcotic?”

“Tell him I forbid it. And here is another thing you must do. When—Someone—comes into the general’s chamber, in the morning, you must quite openly and naturally throw out the potion, useless and vapid, you see, and so Someone will have no right to be astonished that the general continues to enjoy excellent health.”

“Yes, yes, little one; you are wiser than King Solomon. And what will I do with the phial of poison?”

“Bring it to me.”

“Right away.”

She went for it and returned five minutes later.

“He is still asleep. I have put the glass on the table, out of his reach. He will have to call me.”

“Very good. Then push the door to, close it; we have to talk things over.”

“But if someone goes back up the servants’ staircase?”

“Be easy about that. They think the general is poisoned already. It is the first care-free moment I have been able to enjoy in this house.”

“When will you stop making me shake with horror, little demon! You keep your secret well, I must say. The general is sleeping better than if he really were poisoned. But what shall we do about Natacha? I dare ask you that—you and you alone.”

“Nothing at all.”

“How—nothing?”

“We will watch her...”

“Ah, yes, yes.”

“Still, Matrena, you let me watch her by myself.”

“Yes, yes, I promise you. I will not pay any attention to her. That is promised. That is promised. Do as you please. Why, just now, when I spoke of the Nihilists to you, did you say, ‘If it were only that!’? You believe, then, that she is not a Nihilist? She reads such things—things like on the barricades...”

“Madame, madame, you think of nothing but Natacha. You have promised me not to watch her; promise me not to think about her.”

“Why, why did you say, ‘If it was only that!’?”

“Because, if there were only Nihilists in your affair, dear madame, it would be too simple, or, rather, it would have been more simple. Can you possibly believe, madame, that simply a Nihilist, a Nihilist who was only a Nihilist, would take pains that his bomb exploded from a vase of flowers?—that it would have mattered where, so long as it overwhelmed the general? Do you imagine that the bomb would have had less effect behind the door than in front of it? And the little cavity under the floor, do you believe that a genuine revolutionary, such as you have here in Russia, would amuse himself by penetrating to the villa only to draw out two nails from a board, when one happens to give him time between two visits to the dining-room? Do you suppose that a revolutionary who wished to avenge the dead of Moscow and who could succeed in getting so far as the door behind which General Trebassof slept would amuse himself by making a little hole with a pin in order to draw back the bolt and amuse himself by pouring poison into a glass? Why, in such a case, he would have thrown his bomb outright, whether it blew him up along with the villa, or he was arrested on the spot, or had to submit to the martyrdom of the dungeons in the Fortress of SS. Peter and Paul, or be hung at Schlusselburg. Isn’t that what always happens? That is the way he would have done, and not have acted like a hotel-rat! Now, there is someone in your home (or who comes to your home) who acts like a hotel-rat because he does not wish to be seen, because he does not wish to be discovered, because he does not wish to be taken in the act. Now, the moment that he fears nothing so much as to be taken in the act, so that he plays all these tricks of legerdemain, it is certain that his object lies beyond the act itself, beyond the bomb, beyond the poison. Why all this necessity for bombs of deferred explosion, for clockwork placed where it will be confused with other things, and not on a bare staircase forbidden to everybody, though you visit it twenty times a day?”

“But this man comes in as he pleases by day and by night? You don’t answer. You know who he is, perhaps?”

“I know him, perhaps, but I am not sure who it is yet.”

“You are not curious, little domovoi doukh! A friend of the house, certainly, and who enters the house as he wishes, by night, because someone opens the window for him. And who comes from the Krestowsky Villa! Boris or Michael! Ah, poor miserable Matrena! Why don’t they kill poor Matrena? Their general! Their general! And