The Secret Of The Night(Fiscle Part 3) by Gaston Leroux (readera ebook reader txt) 📕

An Abominable Purpose,  That Is All."

"Oh,  That Is True,  That Is True.  Pardon Me.  Mother Of Christ,  This

Boy Crazes Me!  He Consoles Me And He Horrifies Me.  He Makes Me

Think Of Such Dreadful Things,  And Then He Reassures Me.  He Does

What He Wishes With Me.  What Should I Become Without Him?"

And This Time She Succeeded In Taking His Head In Her Two Hands And

Kissing Him Passionately.  Rouletabille Pushed Her Back Roughly.

"You Keep Me From Seeing," He Said.

She Was In Tears Over His Rebuff.  She Understood Now.  Rouletabille

During All This Conversation Had Not Ceased To Watch Through The

Open Doors Of Matrena's Room And The Dressing-Room The Farther Fatal

Door Whose Brass Bolt Shone In The Yellow Light Of The Night-Lamp.

At Last He Made Her A Sign And The Reporter,  Followed By Matrena,

Advanced On Tip-Toe To The Threshold Of The General's Chamber,

Keeping Close To The Wall.  Feodor Feodorovitch Slept.  They Heard

His Heavy Breath,  But He Appeared To Be Enjoying Peaceful Sleep.

The Horrors Of The Night Before Had Fled.  Matrena Was Perhaps Right

In Attributing The Nightmares To The Narcotic Prepared For Him Each

Night,  For The Glass From Which He Drank It When He Felt He Could

Not Sleep Was Still Full And Obviously Had Not Been Touched.  The

Bed Of The General Was So Placed That Whoever Occupied It,  Even If

They Were Wide Awake,  Could Not See The Door Giving On The Servants'

Stairway.  The Little Table Where The Glass And Various Phials Were

Placed And Which Had Borne The Dangerous Bouquet,  Was Placed Near

The Bed,  A Little Back Of It,  And Nearer The Door.  Nothing Would

Have Been Easier Than For Someone Who Could Open The Door To

Stretch An Arm And Place The Infernal Machine Among The Wild Flowers,

Above All,  As Could Easily Be Believed,  If He Had Waited For That

Treachery Until The Heavy Breathing Of The General Told Them Outside

That He Was Fast Asleep,  And If,  Looking Through The Key-Hole,  He

Had Made Sure Matrena Was Occupied In Her Own Chamber.  Rouletabille,

At The Threshold,  Glided To One Side,  Out Of The Line Of View From

The Hole,  And Got Down On All Fours.  He Crawled Toward The Door.

With His Head To The Floor He Made Sure That The Little Ordinary

Pin Which He Had Placed On Guard That Evening,  Stuck In The Floor

Against The Door,  Was Still Erect,  Having Thus Additional Proof That

The Door Had Not Been Moved.  In Any Other Case The Pin Would Have

Lain Flat On The Floor.  He Crept Back,  Rose To His Feet,  Passed

Into The Dressing-Room And,  In A Corner,  Had A Rapid Conversation

In A Low Voice With Matrena.

"You Will Go," Said He,  "And Take Your Mattress Into The Corner Of

The Dressing-Room Where You Can Still See The Door But No One Can

See You By Looking Through The Key-Hole.  Do That Quite Naturally,

And Then Go To Your Rest.  I Will Pass The Night On The Mattress,

And I Beg You To Believe That I Will Be More Comfortable There Than

On A Bed Of Staircase Wood Where I Spent The Night Last Night,

Behind The Door."

"Yes,  But You Will Fall Asleep.  I Don't Wish That."

"What Are You Thinking,  Madame?"

"I Don't Wish It.  I Don't Wish It.  I Don't Wish To Quit The Door

Where The Eye Is.  And Since I'm Not Able To Sleep,  Let Me Watch."

He Did Not Insist,  And They Crouched Together On The Mattress.

Rouletabille Was Squatted Like A Tailor At Work; But Matrena

Remained On All-Fours,  Her Jaw Out,  Her Eyes Fixed,  Like A

Bulldog Ready To Spring.  The Minutes Passed By In Profound Silence,

Broken Only By The Irregular Breathing And Puffing Of The General.

His Face Stood Out Pallid And Tragic On The Pillow; His Mouth Was

Open And,  At Times,  The Lips Moved.  There Was Fear At Any Moment

Of Nightmare Or His Awakening.  Unconsciously He Threw An Arm Over

Toward The Table Where The Glass Of Narcotic Stood.  Then He Lay

Still Again And Snored Lightly.  The Night-Lamp On The Mantelpiece

Caught Queer Yellow Reflections From The Corners Of The Furniture,

From The Gilded Frame Of A Picture On The Wall And From The Phials

And Glasses On The Table.  But In All The Chamber Matrena Petrovna

Saw Nothing,  Thought Of Nothing But The Brass Bolt Which Shone There

On The Door.  Tired Of Being On Her Knees,  She Shifted,  Her Chin

In Her Hands,  Her Gaze Steadily Fixed.  As Time Passed And Nothing

Happened She Heaved A Sigh.  She Could Not Have Said Whether She

Hoped For Or Dreaded The Coming Of That Something New Which

Rouletabille Had Indicated.  Rouletabille Felt Her Shiver With

Anguish And Impatience.

As For Him,  He Had Not Hoped That Anything Would Come To Pass Until

Toward Dawn,  The Moment,  As Everyone Knows,  When Deep Sleep Is Most

Apt To Vanquish All Watchfulness And All Insomnia.  And As He Waited

For That Moment He Had Not Budged Any More Than A Chinese Ape Or The

Dear Little Porcelain Domovoi Doukh In The Garden.  Of Course It

Might Be That It Was Not To Happen This Night.

Suddenly Matrena's Hand Fell On Rouletabille's.  His Imprisoned

Hers So Firmly That She Understood She Was Forbidden To Make The

Least Movement.  And Both,  With Necks Extended,  Ears Erect,  Watched

Like Beasts,  Like Beasts On The Scent.

Yes,  Yes,  There Had Been A Slight Noise In The Lock.  A Key Turned,

Softly,  Softly,  In The Lock,  And Then - Silence; And Then Another

Little Noise,  A Grinding Sound,  A Slight Grating Of Wire,  Above,

Then On The Bolt; Upon The Bolt Which Shone In The Subdued Glow Of

The Night-Lamp.  The Bolt Softly,  Very Softly,  Slipped Slowly.

Then The Door Was Pushed Slowly,  So Slowly.  It Opened.

Through The Opening The Shadow Of An Arm Stretched,  An Arm Which

Held In Its Fingers Something Which Shone.  Rouletabille Felt

Matrena Ready To Bound.  He Encircled Her,  He Pressed Her In His

Arms,  He Restrained Her In Silence,  And He Had A Horrible Fear

Of Hearing Her Suddenly Shout,  While The Arm Stretched Out,  Almost

Touched The Pillow On The Bed Where The General Continued To Sleep

A Sleep Of Peace Such As He Had Not Known For A Long Time.

Into The Potion.   Then The Hand Withdrew As It Had Come,  Slowly,

Prudently,  Slyly,  And The Key Turned In The Lock And The Bolt

Slipped Back Into Place.

Like A Wolf,  Rouletabille,  Warning Matrena For A Last Time Not To

Budge,  Gained The Landing-Place,  Bounded Towards The Stairs,  Slid

Down The Banister Right To The Veranda,  Crossed The Drawing-Room

Like A Flash,  And Reached The Little Sitting-Room Without Having

Jostled A Single Piece Of Furniture.  He Noticed Nothing,  Saw

Nothing.  All Around Was Undisturbed And Silent.

The First Light Of Dawn Filtered Through The Blinds.  He Was Able

To Make Out That The Only Closed Door Was The One To Natacha's

Chamber.  He Stopped Before That Door,  His Heart Beating,  And

Listened.  But No Sound Came To His Ear.  He Had Glided So Lightly

Over The Carpet That He Was Sure He Had Not Been Heard.  Perhaps

That Door Would Open.  He Waited.  In Vain.  It Seemed To Him There

Was Nothing Alive In That House Except His Heart.  He Was Stifled

With The Horror That He Glimpsed,  That He Almost Touched,  Although

That Door Remained Closed.  He Felt Along The Wall In Order To

Reach The Window,  And Pulled Aside The Curtain.  Window And Blinds

Of The Little Room Giving On The Neva Were Closed.  The Bar Of Iron

Inside Was In Its Place.  Then He Went To The Passage,  Mounted And

Descended The Narrow Servants' Stairway,  Looked All About,  In All

The Rooms,  Feeling Everywhere With Silent Hands,  Assuring Himself

That No Lock Had Been Tampered With.  On His Return To The Veranda,

As He Raised His Head,  He Saw At The Top Of The Main Staircase A

Figure Wan As Death,  A Spectral Apparition Amid The Shadows Of The

Passing Night,  Who Leaned Toward Him.  It Was Matrena Petrovna.

She Came Down,  Silent As A Phantoms And He No Longer Recognized Her

Voice When She Demanded Of Him,  "Where?  I Require That You Tell Me.

Where?"

"I Have Looked Everywhere," He Said,  So Low That Matrena Had To

Come Nearer To Understand His Whisper.  "Everything Is Shut Tight.

And There Is No One About."

Matrena Looked At Rouletabille With All The Power Of Her Eyes,  As

Though She Would Discover His Inmost Thoughts,  But His Clear Glance

Did Not Waver,  And She Saw There Was Nothing He Wished To Hide.

Then Matrena Pointed Her Finger At Natacha's Chamber.

"You Have Not Gone In There?" She Inquired.

He Replied,  "It Is Not Necessary To Enter There."

"I Will Enter There,  Myself,  Nevertheless," Said She,  And She Set

Her Teeth.

He Barred Her Way With His Arms Spread Out.

"If You Hold The Life Of Someone Dear," Said He,  "Don't Go A Step

Farther."

"But The Person Is In That Chamber.  The Person Is There!  It Is

There You Will Find Out!"  And She Waved Him Aside With A Gesture

As Though She Were Sleepwalking.

To Recall Her To The Reality Of What He Had Said To Her And To Make

Her Understand What He Desired,  He Had To Grip Her Wrist In The

Vice Of His Nervous Hand.

"The Person Is Not There,  Perfhaps," He Said  His Head.

"Understand Me Now."

But