“ ‘And man again will on the stone set eyes
Once stolen from wild men in bye-gone days
O’er sea: the God-stone which gives life or death.’
“The ancient Druid has no choice but to give in and to hand you the key of Paradise. But first, of course, a little interlude, a few capers and wizard’s tricks, just for a bit of fun. And then hey for the God-Stone guarded by the Sleeping Beauty!”
Don Luis nimbly cut a few of those capers of which he seemed so fond. Then he said to Vorski:
“Well, old chap, I have a vague impression that you’ve had enough of my speech and that you would prefer to reveal François’ hiding-place to me at once, rather then stay here any longer. I’m awfully sorry, but you really must learn how the matter stands with the Sleeping Beauty and the unexpected presence of Véronique d’Hergemont. However, two minutes will be sufficient. Pardon me.”
Dropping the character of the ancient Druid and speaking in his own name, Don Luis continued:
“What you want to know is why I took Véronique d’Hergemont to that place after snatching her from your clutches. The answer is very simple. Where would you have me take her? To the submarine? An absurd suggestion! The sea was rough that night and Véronique needed rest. To the Priory? Never! That would have been too far from the scene of operations and I should have had no peace of mind. In reality there was only one place sheltered from the storm and sheltered from attack; and that was the hall of sacrifices. That was why I took her there and why she was sleeping there, quietly, under the influence of a strong narcotic, when you saw her. I confess that the pleasure of treating you to this spectacle counted for something in my decision. And how splendidly I was rewarded! Oh, if you could have seen the face you pulled! Such a ghastly sight! Véronique raised from the dead! Véronique brought back to life! So horrible was the vision that you ran away helter-skelter.
“But to cut a long story short: you find the exit blocked. Thereupon you change your mind. Conrad returns to the offensive. He attacks me by stealth while I am preparing to move Véronique d’Hergemont to the submarine. Conrad receives a mortal blow from one of the Moors. Second comic interlude. Conrad, dressed up in the ancient Druid’s robe, is laid on the floor in one of the crypts; and of course your first thought is to leap on him and wreak your vengeance on him. And, when you see Elfride’s body, which has taken the place of Véronique d’Hergemont in the sacred table, whoosh … you jump on that too and reduce the woman whom you have already crucified to a bleeding pulp! Blunder upon blunder! And the end of the whole story likewise strikes a comic note. You are strung up on the pillory while I deliver straight at you a speech which does for you and which proves that, if you have won the God-Stone by virtue of your thirty coffins, I am taking possession of it by my own intrinsic virtue. There’s the whole adventure for you, my dear Vorski. Except for a few secondary incidents, or some others, of greater importance, which there is no need for you to know, you know as much as I do. You’ve been quite comfortable and have had lots of time to think. So I am confidently expecting your answer about François. Come, out with your little song:
“ ‘It’s a long, long way to Tipperary.
It’s a long way to go. …’
“Well? Are you feeling in a chatty mood?”
Don Luis had climbed a few rungs. Stéphane and Patrice had come near and were anxiously listening. It was evident that Vorski meant to speak.
He had opened his eyes and was staring at Don Luis with a look of mingled hatred and fear. This extraordinary man must have appeared to him as one of those persons against whom it is absolutely useless to fight and to whom it is equally useless to appeal for compassion. Don Luis represented the conqueror; and, in the presence of one stronger than yourself, there is nothing for it but to yield in all humility. Besides, Vorski was incapable of further resistance. The torture was becoming intolerable.
He spoke a few words in an unintelligible voice.
“A little louder, please,” said Don Luis. “I can’t hear. Where’s François?”
He climbed the ladder. Vorski stammered:
“Shall I be free?”
“On my word of honour. We shall all leave this place, except Otto, who will release you.”
“At once?”
“At once.”
“Then …”
“Then what?”
“Well, François is alive.”
“You muttonhead. I know that. But where is he?”
“Tied into the boat.”
“The one hanging at the foot of the cliff?”
“Yes.”
Don Luis struck his forehead with his hand:
“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! … Don’t mind: I’m speaking of myself. Yes, I ought to have guessed that! Why, All’s Well was sleeping under the boat, peacefully, like a good dog sleeping beside his master! Why, when we sent All’s Well on François’ trail, he led Stéphane straight to the boat. It’s true enough, there are times when the cleverest of us behave like simpletons! But you, Vorski, did you know that there was a way down there and a boat?”
“I knew it since yesterday.”
“And, you artful dog, you intended to skedaddle in her?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Vorski, you shall skedaddle in her, with Otto. I’ll leave her for you. Stéphane!”
But
