The Eight Strokes of the Clock - Maurice Leblanc (reading in the dark .TXT) 📗

pouring forth at random, without his knowing in the least what he was saying:

“A hundred thousand francs! Two hundred thousand! Five hundred thousand! 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? Bosh!⁠ ⁠… 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.⁠ ⁠…”

Rénine 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 Rénine 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. Aha! 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.⁠ ⁠… Pancaldi’s luck! Why, it’s known to all the neighbourhood, among all the dealers! I proclaim it from the housetops: ‘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 Mercuries all over my shop! Look up there, on that shelf, a whole row of statuettes, like the one over the front-door, proofs 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 Pancaldi, 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 Rénine’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! Goodbye, Mlle. Hortense! 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. Goodbye⁠ ⁠… don’t forget your present⁠ ⁠… and may Mercury be kind to you! Goodbye, my dear Prince! Goodbye, Mlle. Hortense!⁠ ⁠…”

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 Rénine 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 Pancaldi and the moment when Pancaldi turned him out of the shop with a statuette in his arms.

The dining-room and drawing-room of the flat which Rénine 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 Rénine, as he opened the door of the drawing-room for Hortense. “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.”

Hortense 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?

Rénine left the room to give an order to his manservant. Two minutes later, he came back for Hortense. It was then a little past seven.

There were flowers on the table; and the statue of Mercury, Pancaldi’s present, stood overtopping them.

“May the god of luck preside over our repast,” said Rénine.

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 fulfil 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