“No.”
“Marco!”
Marco ran up.
“Look sharp, Marco! The quadruple knot!”
Before he had even time to stand on the defensive, Rudolf Kesselbach was tied up in a network of cords that cut into his flesh at the least attempt which he made to struggle. His arms were fixed behind his back, his body fastened to the chair and his legs tied together like the legs of a mummy.
“Search him, Marco.”
Marco searched him. Two minutes after, he handed his chief a little flat, nickel-plated key, bearing the numbers 16 and 9.
“Capital. No morocco pocket-case?”
“No, governor.”
“It is in the safe. Mr. Kesselbach, will you tell me the secret cipher that opens the lock?”
“No.”
“You refuse?”
“Yes.”
“Marco!”
“Yes, governor.”
“Place the barrel of your revolver against the gentleman’s temple.”
“It’s there.”
“Now put your finger to the trigger.”
“Ready.”
“Well, Kesselbach, old chap, do you intend to speak?”
“No.”
“I’ll give you ten seconds, and not one more. Marco!”
“Yes, governor.”
“In ten seconds, blow out the gentleman’s brains.”
“Right you are, governor.”
“Kesselbach, I’m counting. One, two, three, four, five, six …”
Rudolph Kesselbach made a sign.
“You want to speak?”
“Yes.”
“You’re just in time. Well, the cipher … the word for the lock?”
“Dolor.”
“Dolor … Dolor … Mrs. Kesselbach’s name is Dolores, I believe? You dear boy! … Marco, go and do as I told you. … No mistake, mind! I’ll repeat it: meet Jérôme at the omnibus office, give him the key, tell him the word: Dolor. Then, the two of you, go to the Crédit Lyonnais. Jérôme is to walk in alone, sign the name-book, go down to the basement and bring away everything in the safe. Do you quite understand?”
“Yes, governor. But if the safe shouldn’t open; if the word Dolor …”
“Silence, Marco. When you come out of the Crédit Lyonnais, you must leave Jérôme, go to your own place and telephone the result of the operation to me. Should the word Dolor by any chance fail to open the safe, we (my friend Rudolf Kesselbach and I) will have one … last … interview. Kesselbach, you’re quite sure you’re not mistaken?”
“Yes.”
“That means that you rely upon the futility of the search. We shall see. Be off, Marco!”
“What about you, governor?”
“I shall stay. Oh, I’m not afraid! I’ve never been in less danger than at this moment. Your orders about the door were positive, Kesselbach, were they not?”
“Yes.”
“Dash it all, you seemed very eager to get that said! Can you have been trying to gain time? If so, I should be caught in a trap like a fool. …” He stopped to think, looked at his prisoner and concluded, “No … it’s not possible … we shall not be disturbed …”
He had not finished speaking, when the doorbell rang. He pressed his hand violently on Rudolf Kesselbach’s mouth:
“Oh, you old fox, you were expecting someone!”
The captive’s eyes gleamed with hope. He could be heard chuckling under the hand that stifled him.
The stranger shook with rage:
“Hold your tongue, or I’ll strangle you! Here, Marco, gag him! Quick! … That’s it!”
The bell rang again. He shouted, as though he himself were Kesselbach and as though Edwards were still there:
“Why don’t you open the door, Edwards?”
Then he went softly into the lobby and, pointing to the secretary and the manservant, whispered:
“Marco, help me shift these two into the bedroom … over there … so that they can’t be seen.”
He lifted the secretary. Marco carried the servant.
“Good! Now go back to the sitting-room.”
He followed him in and at once returned to the lobby and said, in a loud tone of astonishment:
“Why, your man’s not here, Mr. Kesselbach. … No, don’t move … finish your letter. … I’ll go myself.”
And he quietly opened the hall-door.
“Mr. Kesselbach?”
He found himself faced by a sort of jovial, bright-eyed giant, who stood swinging from one foot to the other and twisting the brim of his hat between his fingers. He answered:
“Yes, that’s right. Who shall I say … ?”
“Mr. Kesselbach telephoned. … He expects me. …”
“Oh, it’s you. … I’ll tell him. … Do you mind waiting a minute? … Mr. Kesselbach will speak to you.”
He had the audacity to leave the visitor standing on the threshold of the little entrance-hall, at a place from which he could see a portion of the sitting-room through the open door, and, slowly, without so much as turning round, he entered the room, went to his confederate by Mr. Kesselbach’s side and whispered:
“We’re done! It’s Gourel, the detective. …”
The other drew his knife. He caught him by the arm:
“No nonsense! I have an idea. But, for God’s sake, Marco, understand me and speak in your turn. Speak as if you were Kesselbach. … You hear, Marco! You are Kesselbach.”
He expressed himself so coolly, so forcibly and with such authority that Marco understood, without further explanation, that he himself was to play the part of Kesselbach. Marco said, so as to be heard:
“You must apologize for me, my dear fellow. Tell M. Gourel I’m awfully sorry, but I’m over head and ears in work. … I will see him tomorrow morning, at nine … yes, at nine o’clock punctually.”
“Good!” whispered the other. “Don’t stir.”
He went back to the lobby, found Gourel waiting, and said:
“Mr. Kesselbach begs you to excuse him. He is finishing an important piece of work. Could you possibly come back at nine o’clock tomorrow morning?”
There was a pause. Gourel seemed surprised, more or less bothered and undecided. The other man’s hand clutched the handle of a knife at the bottom of his pocket. At the first suspicious movement, he was prepared to strike.
At last, Gourel said:
“Very well. … At nine o’clock tomorrow. … But, all the same … However, I shall be here at nine tomorrow. …”
And, putting on his hat, he disappeared down the passage of the hotel.
Marco, in the sitting-room, burst out laughing:
“That was jolly clever of you, governor! Oh, how nicely you spoofed him!”
“Look alive, Marco, and follow him. If he leaves the hotel, let him be, meet Jérôme at the omnibus-office as arranged … and telephone.”
Marco went away quickly.
Then the man took a water-bottle on the chimneypiece, poured himself out a tumblerful, which he swallowed at a draught, wetted his handkerchief, dabbed his forehead, which was covered with perspiration, and then sat down beside his prisoner and, with an affectation of politeness, said:
“But I
