The Secret Tomb by Maurice Leblanc (i like reading .txt) 📕

to this medal, you must be wondering how I come to be hunting for it, since, as you very well know, I stole it from your father. What do you suppose?”

“I suppose somebody took it from you.”

“You’re right. But do you know who it was?”

“No.”

“Raoul’s father, George Davernoie.”

She started and exclaimed:

“You lie!”

“I do not!” he declared firmly. “You remember your father’s last letter which cousin Octave read to us at Roborey? The Prince of Argonne related how he heard two men talking under his window and saw a hand slip through it towards the table and sneak the medal. Well, the man who had accompanied the other on the expedition and was waiting below, was George Davernoie. And that rogue, Dorothy, the very next night robbed his comrade.”

Dorothy was shaking with indignation and abhorrence:

“It’s a lie! Raoul’s father take to such a trade? A thief?”

“Worse than that. For the enterprise had not only robbery for its aim.⁠ ⁠… And if the man who poured the poison into the glass and whose tattooed arm was seen by the Prince of Argonne, does not deny his acts, he doesn’t forget that the poison was provided by the other.”

“You lie! You lie! You alone are the culprit! You alone murdered my father!”

“You don’t really believe that. And look: here’s a letter from him to the old Baron, to his father, that is. I found it among the Baron’s papers. Read it:

“ ‘I have at last laid my hand on the indispensable gold piece. On my next leave I’ll bring it to you.’

“And look at the date. A week after the death of the Prince of Argonne! Do you believe me now, eh? And don’t you think that we might come to an understanding between ourselves, apart from this milksop Raoul?”

This revelation had tried Dorothy sorely. However, she pulled herself together and putting a good face on it, she asked:

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the gold medal, brought to the Baron, entrusted by him to his old flame for a while, then hidden I don’t know where, belongs to you. Raoul has no right to it. I’ll buy it from you.”

“At what price?”

“Any price you like⁠—half the treasure, if you demand it.”

Dorothy saw on the instant how she could make the most of the situation. Here again was a way of gaining some minutes, decisive minutes perhaps, a painful and costly way, since she risked handing over to him the key to the treasure. But dare she hesitate? D’Estreicher was nearly at the end of his patience. He was beside himself at the notion of the imminent attack with which he was threatened. Let him get carried away by an access of panic and all would be lost by his taking flight.

“A partnership between us? Never! A sharing of the treasure which would make me your ally? A thousand times, no! I detest you. But an agreement for a few moments? Perhaps.”

“Your conditions?” he said. “Be quick! Make the most of my allowing you to impose conditions!”

“That won’t take long. You have a double object⁠—the medal and me. You must choose between them. Which do you want most?”

“The medal.”

“If you let me go free, I’ll give it to you.”

“Swear to me on your honor that you know where it is.”

“I swear it.”

“How long have you known?”

“For about five minutes. A little while ago I did not know. A little fact has just come under my observation which has informed me.”

He believed her. It was impossible for him to disbelieve her. Everything that she said in that fashion, looking you straight in the face, was the exact truth.

“Speak.”

“It’s for you to speak first. Swear that as soon as my promise is fulfilled, I shall be free.”

The ruffian blinked. The idea of keeping an oath appeared comic to him; and Dorothy was quite aware that his oath had no value of any kind.

“I swear it,” he said.

Then he repeated: “Speak. I can’t quite make out what you are faking; but it doesn’t strike me as being gospel truth. So I don’t put much faith in it; and don’t you forget it.”

The conflict between them was now at its height; and what gave that conflict its peculiar character was that both of them saw clearly the adversary’s game. Dorothy had no doubt that Raoul, after an unforeseen delay, was on his way to the Manor, and d’Estreicher, who had no more doubt of it than she, knew that all her actions were based on her expectation of immediate intervention. But there was one trifling fact which rendered their chances of victory equal. D’Estreicher believed himself to be in perfect security because his two confederates, glued to the wicket, were watching the road for the coming of the car; while the young girl had taken the admirable precaution of instructing Raoul to abandon the car and take the paths which were out of sight of the gate. All her hope sprang from this precaution.

She made her explanation quietly, all the while bearing in mind her keen desire to drag out the interview.

“I’ve never ceased to believe,” she said, “⁠—and I’m sure that you are of the same opinion that the Baron has never, so to speak, quitted the medal.”

“I hunted everywhere,” d’Estreicher objected.

“So did I. But I don’t mean that he kept it on him. I meant that he kept it and still keeps it within reach.”

“You do?”

“Yes. He has always managed in such a way that he has only to stretch out his hand to grasp it.”

“Impossible. We should have seen it.”

“Not at all. Only just now you failed to see anything.”

“Just now?”

“Yes. When he was going off, compelled by the bidding of his instinct⁠—when he was going off on the very day he had fixed before he fell ill⁠—”

“He was going off without the medal.”

“With the medal.”

“They searched his bag.”

“The bag wasn’t the only thing he was taking with him.”

“What else was there? Hang it all! You were more than a hundred yards away from him!