“It’s rising,” cried Gourel, in a choking voice, “it’s rising!”
M. Lenormand redoubled his efforts. Suddenly the stem of the bolt which he was using leapt out into space. The passage was dug. He had now only to widen it, which became much easier once he was able to shoot the materials in front of him.
Gourel, mad with terror, was howling like a dying beast. M. Lenormand paid no attention to him. Safety was at hand.
Nevertheless, he had a few seconds of anxiety when he perceived, by the sound of the materials falling, that this part of the tunnel was also under water, which was natural, as the door did not form a sufficiently tight-fitting barrier. But what did it matter! The outlet was free. One last effort … he passed through.
“Come, Gourel,” he cried, returning to fetch his companion.
He dragged him, half dead, by the wrists:
“Come along, booby, pull yourself together! We are saved.”
“Do you really think so, chief? … The water’s up to our chests. …”
“Never mind, as long as it’s not over our mouths. … Where’s your lantern?”
“It’s not working.”
“No matter.” He gave an exclamation of delight. “One step … two steps! … A staircase. … At last!”
They emerged from the water, that accursed water which had almost swallowed them up; and it was a delicious sensation, a release that sent up their spirits.
“Stop!” said M. Lenormand.
His head had knocked against something. With arms outstretched, he pushed against the obstacle, which yielded at once. It was the flap of a trap-door; and, when this trap-door was opened, he found himself in a cellar into which the light of a fine night filtered through an air-hole.
He threw back the flap and climbed the last treads.
Then a veil fell over his eyes. Arms seized upon him. He felt himself as it were wrapped in a sheet, in a sort of sack, and then fastened with cords.
“Now for the other one!” said a voice.
The same operation must have been performed on Gourel; and the same voice said:
“If they call out, kill them at once. Have you your dagger?”
“Yes.”
“Come along. You two, take this one … you two, that one. … No light … and no noise either. … It would be a serious matter. They’ve been searching the garden next door since this morning … there are ten or fifteen of them knocking about. … Go back to the house, Gertrude, and, if the least thing happens, telephone to me in Paris.”
M. Lenormand felt that he was being lifted up and carried and, a moment after, that he was in the open air.
“Bring the cart nearer,” said a voice.
M. Lenormand heard the sound of a horse and cart.
He was laid out on some boards. Gourel was hoisted up beside him. The horse started at a trot.
The drive lasted about half an hour.
“Halt!” commanded the voice. “Lift them out. Here, driver, turn the cart so that the tail touches the parapet of the bridge. … Good. … No boats on the river? Sure? Then let’s waste no time. … Oh, have you fastened some stones to them?”
“Yes, paving-stones.”
“Right away, then! Commend your soul to God, M. Lenormand, and pray for me, Parbury-Ribeira, better known by the name of Baron Altenheim. Are you ready? All right? Well, here’s wishing you a pleasant journey, M. Lenormand!”
M. Lenormand was placed on the parapet. Someone gave him a push. He felt himself falling into space and he still heard the voice chuckling:
“A pleasant journey!”
Ten seconds later it was Sergeant Gourel’s turn.
VII
Parbury-Ribeira-Altenheim
The girls were playing in the garden, under the supervision of Mlle. Charlotte, Geneviève’s new assistant. Mme. Ernemont came out, distributed some cakes among them and then went back to the room which served as a drawing-room and parlor in one, sat down before a writing-desk and began to arrange her papers and account-books.
Suddenly, she felt the presence of a stranger in the room. She turned round in alarm:
“You!” she cried. “Where have you come from? How did you get in?”
“Hush!” said Prince Sernine. “Listen to me and do not let us waste a minute: Geneviève?”
“Calling on Mrs. Kesselbach.”
“When will she be here?”
“Not before an hour.”
“Then I will let the brothers Doudeville come. I have an appointment with them. How is Geneviève?”
“Very well.”
“How often has she seen Pierre Leduc since I went away, ten days ago?”
“Three times; and she is to meet him today at Mrs. Kesselbach’s, to whom she introduced him, as you said she must. Only, I may as well tell you that I don’t think much of this Pierre Leduc of yours. Geneviève would do better to find some good fellow in her own class of life. For instance, there’s the schoolmaster.”
“You’re mad! Geneviève marry a schoolmaster!”
“Oh, if you considered Geneviève’s happiness first. …”
“Shut up, Victoire. You’re boring me with your cackle. I have no time to waste on sentiment. I’m playing a game of chess; and I move my men without troubling about what they think. When I have won the game, I will go into the question whether the knight, Pierre Leduc, and the queen, Geneviève, have a heart or not.”
She interrupted him:
“Did you hear? A whistle. …”
“It’s the two Doudevilles. Go and bring them in; and then leave us.”
As soon as the two brothers were in the room, he questioned them with his usual precision:
“I know what the newspapers have said about the disappearance of Lenormand and Gourel. Do you know any more?”
“No. The deputy-chief, M. Weber, has taken the case in hand. We have been searching the garden of the House of Retreat for the past week; and nobody is able to explain how they can have disappeared. The whole force is in a flutter. … No one has ever seen the like … a chief of the detective-service disappearing, without leaving a trace behind him!”
“The two maids?”
“Gertrude has gone. She is being looked for.”
“Her sister Suzanne?”
“M. Weber and M. Formerie have questioned her. There is nothing against her.”
“Is
