The Secret of Sarek by Maurice Leblanc (best e ink reader for manga .txt) 📕

“That’s a lie. While we were settling the sisters Archignat, you discovered on one of them, tucked away in her bodice, the hoard which we couldn’t find in their house.”

“Well, that’s a likely story!” said Vorski, in a tone which betrayed his embarrassment.

“It’s absolutely the truth.”

“Prove it.”

“Just fish out that little parcel, tied up with string, which you’ve got pinned inside your shirt, just there,” said Otto, touching Vorski’s chest with his finger. “Fish it out and let’s have a look at those fifty thousand-franc notes.”

Vorski made no reply. He was dazed, like a man who does not understand what is happening to him and who is trying to guess how his adversary procured a weapon against him.

“Do you admit it?” asked Otto.

“Why not?” he rejoined. “I meant to square up later, in the lump.”

“Square up now. We’d rather have it that way.”

“And suppose I refuse?”

“You won’t refuse.”

“Suppose I do?”

“In that case, look out for yourself!”

“I have nothing to fear. There’s only two of you.”

“There’s three of us, at least.”

“Where’s the third?”

“The third is a gentleman who seems cleverer than most, from what Conrad tells me: brrr!⁠ ⁠… The one who fooled you just now, the one with the arrow and the white robe!”

“You propose to call him?”

“Rather!”

Vorski felt that the game was not equal. The two assistants were standing on either side of him and pressing him hard. He had to yield:

“Here, you thief! Here, you robber!” he shouted, taking out the parcel and unfolding the notes.

“It’s not worth while counting,” said Otto, snatching the bundle from him unawares.

“Hi!⁠ ⁠…”

“We’ll do it this way: half for Conrad, half for me.”

“Oh, you blackguard! Oh, you double-dyed thief! I’ll make you pay for this. I don’t care a button about the money. But to rob me as though you’d decoyed me into a wood, so to speak! I shouldn’t like to be in your skin, my lad!”

He continued to insult the other and then, suddenly, burst into a laugh, a forced, malicious laugh:

“After all, Otto, upon my word, well played! But where and how did you come to know it? You’ll tell me that, won’t you?⁠ ⁠… Meanwhile, we’ve not a minute to lose. We’re agreed all round, aren’t we? And you’ll get on with the work?”

“Willingly, since you’re taking the thing so well,” said Otto. And he added, obsequiously, “After all⁠ ⁠… you have a style about you, sir! You’re a fine gentleman, you are!”

“And you, you’re a varlet whom I pay. You’ve had your money, so hurry up. The business is urgent.”

The “business,” as the frightful creatures called it, was soon done. Climbing on his ladder, Vorski repeated his orders, which were executed in docile fashion by Conrad and Otto.

They raised the victim to her feet and then, keeping her upright, hauled at the rope. Vorski seized the poor woman and, as her knees were bent, violently forced them straight. Thus flattened against the trunk of the tree, with her skirt tightened round her legs, her arms hanging to right and left at no great distance from her body, she was bound round the waist and under the arms.

She seemed not to have recovered from her blow and uttered no sound of complaint. Vorski tried to speak a few words, but spluttered them, incapable of utterance. Then he tried to raise her head, but abandoned the attempt, lacking the courage to touch her who was about to die: and the head dropped low on the breast.

He at once got down and stammered:

“The brandy, Otto. Have you the flask? Oh, damn it, what a beastly business!”

“There’s time yet,” Conrad suggested.

Vorski took a few sips and cried:

“Time⁠ ⁠… for what? To let her off? Listen to me, Conrad. Rather than let her off, I’d sooner⁠ ⁠… yes, I’d sooner die in her stead. Give up my task? Ah, you don’t know what my task or what my object is! Besides⁠ ⁠…”

He drank some more:

“It’s excellent brandy, but, to settle my heart, I’d rather have rum. Have you any, Conrad?”

“A drain at the bottom of a flask.”

“Hand it over.”

They had screened the lantern lest they should be seen; and they sat close up to the tree, determined to keep silence. But this fresh drink went to their heads. Vorski began to hold forth very excitedly:

“You’ve no need of any explanations. The woman who’s dying up there, it’s no use your knowing her name. It’s enough if you know that she’s the fourth of the women who were to die on the cross and was specially appointed by fate. But there’s one thing I can say to you, now that Vorski’s triumph is about to shine forth before your eyes. In fact I take a certain pride in telling you, for, while all that’s happened so far has depended on me and my will, the thing that’s going to happen directly depends on the mightiest of will, wills working for Vorski!”

He repeated several times, as though smacking his lips over the name:

“For Vorski⁠ ⁠… For Vorski!”

And he stood up, impelled by the exuberance of his thoughts to walk up and down and wave his arms:

“Vorski, son of a king, Vorski, the elect of destiny, prepare yourself! Your time has come! Either you are the lowest of adventurers and the guiltiest of all the great criminals dyed in the blood of their fellow-men, or else you are really the inspired prophet whom the gods crown with glory. A superman or a highwayman: that is fate’s decree. The last heartbeats of the sacred victim sacrificed to the gods are marking the supreme seconds. Listen to them, you two!”

Climbing the ladder, he tried to hear those poor beats of an exhausted heart. But the head, drooping to the left, prevented him from putting his ear to the breast; and he dared not touch it. The silence was broken only by a hoarse and irregular breath.

He said, in a low whisper:

“Véronique, do you hear me? Véronique.⁠ ⁠… Véronique.⁠ ⁠…”

After a moment’s hesitation:

“I want you to know it⁠ ⁠… yes, I myself am terrified