But there was nothing in the purse. Disappointed, mad with rage, he shook his fist in Dorothy’s face, shouting:
“That was the game, was it? Your friends set free, I was done. The envelope, at once!”
“I have torn it up,” she declared.
“You lie! One doesn’t tear up a thing like that! One doesn’t destroy a secret like that!”
She repeated:
“I tore it up; but I read it first. Cut the bonds of my friends; and I reveal the secret to you.”
He howled:
“You lie! You lie! The envelope at once. … Ah, if you think that you can go on laughing at me for very long! I’ve had enough of it! For the last time, the envelope!”
“No,” she said.
He rushed towards the cell in which the child was lying, tore the cloak off him, seized his hair with one hand and began to swing him like a bundle he was going to throw to a distance.
“The envelope! Or I smash his head against the wall!” he shouted at Dorothy.
He was a loathsome sight. His features were distorted by a horrible ferocity. His confederates gazed at him, laughing.
Dorothy raised her hand in token of acceptance.
He set the child on the ground and came back to her. He was covered with sweat.
“The envelope,” he said once more.
She explained:
“In the entrance vault … in this end of it, opening into this place … a little ball on the ground, among the pebbles.”
He called one of his confederates and repeated the information to him. The man went off, running.
“It was time!” muttered the ruffian, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Look you, you shouldn’t provoke me. And then why that air of defiance?” he added, as if Dorothy’s coolness shamed him. “Damn it all! Lower your eyes! Am I not master here? Master of your friends … master of you … yes, of you.”
He repeated this word two or three times, almost to himself and with a look which made Dorothy uneasy. But, hearing his confederate, he turned and called to him sharply.
“Well?”
“Here it is.”
“You’re sure? You’re sure? Ah, here we are. This is the real victory.”
He unfolded the crumpled envelope and held it in his hands, turning it slowly over and over as if it were the most precious of possessions. It had not been opened; the seals were intact; no one then knew the great secret which he was going to learn.
He could not prevent himself from saying aloud:
“No one … no one but me. …”
He unsealed the envelope. It contained a sheet of paper folded in two, on which only three or four lines were written.
He read those lines and seemed greatly astonished.
“Oh, it’s devilish clever! And I understand why I found nothing, nor any of those who have searched. The old chap was right: the hiding-place is undiscoverable.”
He began to walk up and down, in silence, like a man who is weighing alternative actions. Then, returning to the cells, he said to the three guards, his finger pointing to the prisoners:
“No means of their escaping, is there? The ropes are strong. Then march along to the boat and get ready to start.”
His confederates hesitated.
“Well, what’s the matter with you?” said their leader.
One of them risked saying:
“But … the treasure?”
Dorothy observed their hostile attitude. Doubtless they distrusted one another; and the idea of leaving before the division of the spoil, appeared to endanger their interests.
“The treasure?” he cried. “What about it? Do you suppose I’m going to swallow it. You’ll get the share you’ve been promised. I’ve sworn it. And a big share too.”
He bullied all three of them, impatient to be alone.
“Hurry up! Ah, I was forgetting. … Call your two comrades on duty; and all five of you carry away the false Marquis. We’ll throw him into the sea. In that way he’ll neither be seen nor known. Get on.”
His confederates discussed the matter for a moment. But their leader maintained his ascendancy over them, and grumbling, with lowering faces, they obeyed his orders.
“Six o’clock,” he said. “At seven I’ll be with you so that we can get off soon after dark. And have everything ready, mind you! Set the cabin in order. … Perhaps there’ll be an additional passenger.”
Once more he looked at Dorothy and studied her face while his confederates moved off.
“A passenger, or rather a lady passenger. What, Dorothy?”
Always impassive, she did not answer. But her suffering became keener and keener. The terrible moment drew near.
He still held the envelope and the letter of the Marquis in his hand. From his pocket he drew a lighter and lit it to read the instructions once more.
“Admirable!” he murmured almost purring with satisfaction. “A first-class idea! … As well search at the bottom of hell. Ah, that Marquis! What a man!”
He twisted the paper into a long spill and put its end in the flame. The paper caught fire. At its flame he lit a cigarette with an affectation of nonchalance, and turning toward the prisoners, he waited, with hand outstretched, till there remained of the document only a little ash which was scattered by the breath of the breeze.
“Look Webster, look Errington and Dario. This is all you’ll ever see of the secret of your ancestor … a little ash. … It’s gone. Confess that you haven’t been very smart. You are three stout fellows and you haven’t been able either to keep the treasure which was waiting for you, nor to defend the pretty cousin whom you admired, open-mouthed. Hang it! There were six of us in the little room in the tower; and it would have been enough for one of you to grip hold of my collar. … I was damned uncomfortable. Instead of that, what a cropper you came. All the worse for you … and all the worse for her!”
He showed them his revolver.
“I shan’t need to use this. What?” he said. “You must have noticed that at the slightest movement the cords grow tighter round your throats. If you insist … it’s strangulation pure and simple. A word
