François rushed into her arms. She burst into sobs, without speaking a word.
Opposite them, All’s Well, seated on his haunches, beat the air with his forepaws and looked at them, with his head a little on one side:
“Mother,” said François, “Don Luis is here.”
She took Don Luis’ hand and pressed a long kiss upon it, while François murmured:
“You saved mother. … You saved us both. …”
Don Luis interrupted him:
“Will you give me pleasure, François? Well, don’t thank me. If you really want to thank somebody, there, thank your friend All’s Well. He does not look as if he had played a very important part in the piece. And yet, compared with the scoundrel who persecuted you, he was the good genius, always discreet, intelligent, modest and silent.”
“So are you!”
“Oh, I am neither modest nor silent; and that’s why I admire All’s Well. Here, All’s Well, come along with me and, for goodness’ sake, stop sitting up! You might have to do it all night, for they will be shedding tears together for hours, the mother and son. …”
XVIII
The God-Stone
The Crystal Stopper was running on the surface of the water. Don Luis sat talking, with Stéphane, Patrice and All’s Well, who were gathered round him:
“What a swine that Vorski is!” he said. “I’ve seen that breed of monster before, but never one of his calibre.”
“Then, in that case …” Patrice Belval objected.
“In that case?” echoed Don Luis.
“I repeat what I’ve said already. You hold a monster in your hands and you let him go free! To say nothing of its being highly immoral, think of all the harm that he can do, that he inevitably will do! It’s a heavy responsibility to take upon yourself, that of the crimes which he will still commit.”
“Do you think so too, Stéphane?” asked Don Luis.
“I’m not quite sure what I think,” replied Stéphane, “because, to save François, I was prepared to make any concession. But, all the same …”
“All the same, you would rather have had another solution?”
“Frankly, yes. So long as that man is alive and free, Madame d’Hergemont and her son will have everything to fear from him.”
“But what other solution was there? I promised him his liberty in return for François’ immediate safety. Ought I to have promised him only his life and handed him over to the police?”
“Perhaps,” said Captain Belval.
“Very well. But, in that case, the police would institute enquiries, and by discovering the fellow’s real identity bring back to life the husband of Véronique d’Hergemont and the father of François. Is that what you want?”
“No, no!” cried Stéphane, eagerly.
“No, indeed,” confessed Patrice Belval, a little uneasily. “No, that solution is no better; but what astonishes me is that you, Don Luis, did not hit upon the right one, the one which would have satisfied us all.”
“There was only one solution,” Don Luis Perenna said, plainly. “There was only one.”
“Which was that?”
“Death.”
There was a pause. Then Don Luis resumed:
“My friends, I did not form you into a court simply as a joke; and you must not think that your parts as judges are played because the trial seems to you to be over. It is still going on; and the court has not risen. That is why I want you to answer me honestly: do you consider that Vorski deserves to die?”
“Yes,” declared Patrice.
And Stéphane approved:
“Yes, beyond a doubt.”
“My friends,” Don Luis continued, “your verdict is not sufficiently solemn. I beseech you to utter it formally and conscientiously, as though you were in the presence of the culprit. I ask you once more: what penalty did Vorski deserve?”
They raised their hands and, one after the other, answered:
“Death.”
Don Luis whistled. One of the Moors ran up.
“Two pairs of binoculars, Hadji.”
The man brought the glasses and Don Luis handed them to Stéphane and Patrice:
“We are only a mile from Sarek,” he said. “Look towards the point: the boat should have started.”
“Yes,” said Patrice, presently.
“Do you see her, Stéphane?”
“Yes, only …”
“Only what?”
“There’s only one passenger.”
“Yes,” said Patrice, “only one passenger.”
They put down their binoculars and one of them said:
“Only one has got away: Vorski evidently. He must have killed Otto, his accomplice.”
“Unless Otto, his accomplice, has killed him,” chuckled Don Luis.
“What makes you say that?”
“Why, remember the prophecy made to Vorski in his youth: ‘Your wife will die on the cross and you will be killed by a friend.’ ”
“I doubt if a prediction is enough.”
“I have other proofs, though.”
“What proofs?”
“They, my friends, form part of the last problem we shall have to elucidate together. For instance, what is your idea of the manner in which I substituted Elfride Vorski for Madame d’Hergemont?”
Stéphane shook his head:
“I confess that I never understood.”
“And yet it’s so simple! When a gentleman in a drawing-room, in a white tie and a tailcoat, performs conjuring-tricks or guesses your thoughts, you say to yourself, don’t you, that there must be some artifice beneath it all, the assistance of a confederate? Well, you need seek no farther where I’m concerned.”
“What, you had a confederate?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“But who was he?”
“Otto.”
“Otto? But you never left us! You never spoke to him, surely?”
“How could I have succeeded without his help? In reality, I had two confederates in this business, Elfride and Otto, both of whom betrayed Vorski, either out of revenge or out of greed. While you, Stéphane, were luring Vorski past the Fairies’ Dolmen, I accosted Otto. We soon struck a bargain, at the cost of a few banknotes and in return for a promise that he would come out of the adventure safe and sound. Moreover I informed him that Vorski had pouched the sisters Archignat’s fifty thousand francs.”
“How did you know that?” asked Stéphane.
“Through my confederate number one, through Elfride, whom I continued to question in a whisper while you were looking out for Vorski’s coming and who also, in a few brief words,
