But he interrupted himself. The young man’s eyes wore the cruel expression which he knew so well. What was the use of trying to move him?
“Hang it all!” he snarled. “I’m not going to croak here, like a dog! Oh, if I could only. …”
Stiffening all his muscles, he tried to burst his bonds, making a violent effort that drew a cry of pain from him; and he fell back upon his bed, exhausted.
“Well, well,” he muttered, after a moment, “it’s as the widow said: my goose is cooked. Nothing to be done. De profundis, Lupin.”
A quarter of an hour passed, half an hour. …
Gabriel, moving closer to Lupin, saw that his eyes were shut and that his breath came evenly, like that of a man sleeping. But Lupin said:
“Don’t imagine that I’m asleep, youngster. No, people don’t sleep at a moment like this. Only I am consoling myself. Needs must, eh? … And then I am thinking of what is to come after. … Exactly. I have a little theory of my own about that. You wouldn’t think it, to look at me, but I believe in metempsychosis, in the transmigration of souls. It would take too long to explain, however. … I say, boy … suppose we shook hands before we part? You won’t? Then goodbye. Good health and a long life to you, Gabriel! …”
He closed his eyelids and did not stir again before Mme. Dugrival’s return.
The widow entered with a lively step, at a few minutes before twelve. She seemed greatly excited:
“I have the money,” she said to her nephew. “Run away. I’ll join you in the motor down below.”
“But. …”
“I don’t want your help to finish him off. I can do that alone. Still, if you feel like seeing the sort of a face a rogue can pull. … Pass me the weapon.”
Gabriel handed her the revolver and the widow continued:
“Have you burnt our papers?”
“Yes.”
“Then to work. And, as soon as he’s done for, be off. The shots may bring the neighbours. They must find both the flats empty.”
She went up to the bed:
“Are you ready, Lupin?”
“Ready’s not the word: I’m burning with impatience.”
“Have you any request to make of me?”
“None.”
“Then. …”
“One word, though.”
“What is it?”
“If I meet Dugrival in the next world, what message am I to give him from you?”
She shrugged her shoulders and put the barrel of the revolver to Lupin’s temple.
“That’s it,” he said, “and be sure your hand doesn’t shake, my dear lady. It won’t hurt you, I swear. Are you ready? At the word of command, eh? One … two … three. …”
The widow pulled the trigger. A shot rang out.
“Is this death?” said Lupin. “That’s funny! I should have thought it was something much more different from life!”
There was a second shot. Gabriel snatched the weapon from his aunt’s hands and examined it:
“Ah,” he exclaimed, “the bullets have been removed! … There are only the percussion-caps left! …”
His aunt and he stood motionless, for a moment, and confused:
“Impossible!” she blurted out. “Who could have done it? … An inspector? … The examining-magistrate? …”
She stopped and, in a low voice:
“Hark. … I hear a noise. …”
They listened and the widow went into the hall. She returned, furious, exasperated by her failure and by the scare which she had received:
“There’s nobody there. … It must have been the neighbours going out. … We have plenty of time. … Ah, Lupin, you were beginning to make merry! … The knife, Gabriel.”
“It’s in my room.”
“Go and fetch it.”
Gabriel hurried away. The widow stamped with rage:
“I’ve sworn to do it! … You’ve got to suffer, my fine fellow! … I swore to Dugrival that I would do it and I have repeated my oath every morning and evening since. … I have taken it on my knees, yes, on my knees, before Heaven that listens to me! It’s my duty and my right to revenge my dead husband! … By the way, Lupin, you don’t look quite as merry as you did! … Lord, one would almost think you were afraid! … He’s afraid! He’s afraid! I can see it in his eyes! … Come along, Gabriel, my boy! … Look at his eyes! … Look at his lips! … He’s trembling! … Give me the knife, so that I may dig it into his heart while he’s shivering. … Oh, you coward! … Quick, quick, Gabriel, the knife! …”
“I can’t find it anywhere,” said the young man, running back in dismay. “It has gone from my room! I can’t make it out!”
“Never mind!” cried the Widow Dugrival, half demented. “All the better! I will do the business myself.”
She seized Lupin by the throat, clutched him with her ten fingers, digging her nails into his flesh, and began to squeeze with all her might. Lupin uttered a hoarse rattle and gave himself up for lost.
Suddenly, there was a crash at the window. One of the panes was smashed to pieces.
“What’s that? What is it?” stammered the widow, drawing herself erect, in alarm.
Gabriel, who had turned even paler than usual, murmured:
“I don’t know. … I can’t think. …”
“Who can have done it?” said the widow.
She dared not move, waiting for what would come next. And one thing above all terrified her, the fact that there was no missile on the floor around them, although the pane of glass, as was clearly visible, had given way before the crash of a heavy and fairly large object, a stone, probably.
After a while, she looked under the bed, under the chest of drawers:
“Nothing,” she said.
“No,” said her nephew, who was also looking. And, resuming her seat, she said:
“I feel frightened … my arms fail me … you finish him off. …”
Gabriel confessed:
“I’m frightened also.”
“Still … still,” she stammered, “it’s got to be done. … I swore it. …”
Making one last effort, she returned to Lupin and gasped his neck with her stiff fingers. But Lupin, who was watching her pallid face, received a very clear sensation that she would not have the courage to kill him. To her he was becoming something sacred, invulnerable. A mysterious power was protecting him against every attack, a power which had
