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

Dormitories In The Barracks.  We Will Take You There.  His Own Idea!

He Doesn't Neglect Anything,  Does He?  A Great Chief.  Have You Seen

The Police-Guards' Dormitory?  Admirable!  The First Dormitories Of

The World.  We Say That Without Wishing To Offend France.  We Love

France.  A Great Nation!  I Will Take You Immediately To M.

Koupriane.  I Shall Be Delighted."

"I Also," Said Rouletabille,  Who Put A Rouble Into The Honorable

Functionary's Hand.

"Permit Me To Precede You."

Bows And Salutes.  For Two Roubles He Would Have Walked Obsequiously

Before Him To The End Of The World.

"These Functionaries Are Admirable," Thought Rouletabille As He Was

Led To The Barracks.  He Felt He Had Not Paid Too Much For The

Services Of A Personage Whose Uniform Was Completely Covered With

Lace.  They Tramped,  They Climbed,  They Descended.  Stairways,

Corridors.  Ah,  The Barracks At Last.  He Seemed To Have Entered A

Convent.  Beds Very White,  Very Narrow,  And Images Of The Virgin

And Saints Everywhere,  Monastic Neatness And The Most Absolute

Silence.  Suddenly An Order Sounded In The Corridor Outside,  And

The Police-Guard,  Who Sprang From No One Could Tell Where,  Stood

To Attention At The Head Of Their Beds.  Koupriane And His Aide

Appeared.  Koupriane Looked At Everything Closely,  Spoke To Each

Man In Turn,  Called Them By Their Names,  Inquired About Their

Needs,  And The Men Stammered Replies,  Not Knowing What To Answer,

Reddening Like Children.  Koupriane Observed Rouletabille.  He

Dismissed His Aide With A Gesture.  The Inspection Was Over.  He

Drew The Young Man Into A Little Room Just Off The Dormitory.

Rouletabille,  Frightened,  Looked About Him.  He Found Himself In A

Chapel.  This Little Chapel Completed The Effect Of The Guards'

Dormitory.  It Was All Gilded,  Decorated In Marvelous Colors,

Thronged With Little Ikons That Bring Happiness,  And,  Naturally,

With The Portrait Of The Tsar,  The Dear Little Father.

"You See," Said Koupriane,  Smiling At Rouletabille's Amazement,

"We Deny Them Nothing.  We Give Them Their Saints Right Here In

Their Quarters."  Closing The Door,  He Drew A Chair Toward

Rouletabille And Motioned Him To Sit Down.  They Sat Before The

Little Altar Loaded With Flowers,  With Colored Paper And Winged

Saints.

"We Can Talk Here Without Being Disturbed," He Said.  "Yonder There

Is Such A Crowd Of People Waiting For Me.  I'm Ready To Listen."

"Monsieur," Said Rouletabille,  "I Have Come To Give You The Report

Of My Mission Here,  And To Terminate My Connection With It.  All

That Is Left For Clearing This Obscure Affair Is To Arrest The

Guilty Person,  With Which I Have Nothing To Do.  That Concerns You.

I Simply Inform You That Someone Tried To Poison The General Last

Night By Pouring Arsenate Of Soda Into His Sleeping-Potion,  Which

I Bring You In This Phial,  Arsenate Which Was Secured Most Probably

By Washing It From Grapes Brought To General Trebassof By The

Marshal Of The Court,  And Which Disappeared Without Anyone Being

Able To Say How."

"Ah,  Ah,  A Family Affair,  A Plot Within The Family.  I Told You

So," Murmured Koupriane.

"The Affair At Least Has Happened Within The Family,  As You Think,

Although The Assassin Came From Outside.  Contrary To What You May

Be Able To Believe,  He Does Not Live In The House."

"Then How Does He Get There?" Demanded Koupriane.

"By The Window Of The Room Overlooking The Neva.  He Has Often Come

That Way.  And That Is The Way He Returns Also,  I Am Sure.  It Is

There You Can Take Him If You Act With Prudence."

"How Do You Know He Often Comes That Way?"

"You Know The Height Of The Window Above The Little Roadway.  To

Reach It He Uses A Water-Trough,  Whose Iron Rings Are Bent,  And

Also The Marks Of A Grappling-Iron That He Carries With Him And

Uses To Hoist Himself To The Window Are Distinctly Visible On The

Ironwork Of The Little Balcony Outside.  The Marks Are Quite

Obviously Of Different Dates"

"But That Window Is Closed."

"Someone Opens It For Him."

"Who,  If You Please?"

"I Have No Desire To Know."

"Eh,  Yes.  It Necessarily Is Natacha.  I Was Sure That The Villa

Des Iles Had Its Viper.  I Tell You She Doesn't Dare Leave Her Nest

Because She Knows She Is Watched.  Not One Of Her Movements Outside

Escapes Us!  She Knows It.  She Has Been Warned.  The Last Time She

Ventured Outside Alone Was To Go Into The Old Quarters Of Derewnia.

What Has She To Do In Such A Rotten Quarter?  I Ask You That.  And

She Turned In Her Tracks Without Seeing Anyone,  Without Knocking

At A Single Door,  Because She Saw That She Was Followed.  She Isn't

Able To Get To See Them Outside,  Therefore She Has To See Them

Inside."

"They Are Only One,  And Always The Same One."

"Are You Sure?"

"An Examination Of The Marks On The Wall And On The Pipe Doesn't

Leave Any Doubt Of It,  And It Is Always The Same Grappling-Iron

That Is Used For The Window."

"The Viper!"

"Monsieur Koupriane,  Mademoiselle Natacha Seems To Preoccupy You

Exceedingly.  I Did Not Come Here To Talk About Mademoiselle

Natacha.  I Came To Point Out To You The Route Used By The Man Who

Comes To Do The Murder."

"Eh,  Yes,  It Is She Who Opens The Way."

"I Can't Deny That."

"The Little Demon!  Why Does She Take Him Into Her Room At Night?

Do You Think Perhaps There Is Some Love-Affair...?"

"I Am Sure Of Quite The Opposite."

"I Too.  Natacha Is Not A Wanton.  Natacha Has No Heart.  She Has

Only A Brain.  And It Doesn't Take Long For A Brain Touched By

Nihilism To Get So It Won't Hesitate At Anything."

Koupriane Reflected A Minute,  While Rouletabille Watched Him In

Silence.

"Have We Solely To Do With Nihilism?" Resumed Koupriane.

"Everything You Tell Me Inclines Me More And More To My Idea: A

Family Affair,  Purely In The Family.  You Know,  Don't You,  That

Upon The General's Death Natacha Will Be Immensely Rich?"

"Yes,  I Know It," Replied Rouletabille,  In A Voice That Sounded

Singular To The Ear Of The Chief Of Police And Which Made Him Raise

His Head.

"What Do You Know?"

"I?  Nothing," Replied The Reporter,  This Time In A Firmer Tone.

"I Ought,  However,  To Say This To You: I Am Sure That We Are Dealing

With Nihilism..."

"What Makes You Believe It?"

"This."

And Rouletabille Handed Koupriane The Message He Had Received That

Same Morning.

"Oh,  Oh," Cried Koupriane.  "You Are Under Watch!  Look Out."

"I Have Nothing To Fear; I'm Not Bothering Myself About Anything

Further.  Yes,  We Have An Affair Of The Revolutionaries,  But Not Of

The Usual Kind.  The Way They Are Going About It Isn't Like One Of

Their Young Men That The Central Committee Arms With A Bomb And Who

Is Sacrificed In Advance."

"Where Are The Tracks That You Have Traced?"

"Right Up To The Little Krestowsky Villa."

Koupriane Bounded From His Chair.

"Occupied By Boris.  Parbleu!  Now We Have Them.  I See It All Now.

Boris,  Another Cracked Brain!  And He Is Engaged.  If He Plays The

Part Of The Revolutionaries,  The Affair Would Work Out Big For Him."

"That Villa," Said Rouletabille Quietly,  "Is Also Occupied By Michael

Korosakoff."

"He Is The Most Loyal,  The Most Reliable Soldier Of The Tsar."

"No One Is Ever Sure Of Anything,  My Dear Monsieur Koupriane."

"Oh,  I Am Sure Of A Man Like That."

"No Man Is Ever Sure Of Any Man,  My Dear Monsieur Koupriane."

"I Am,  In Every Case,  For Those I Employ."

"You Are Wrong."

"What Do You Say?"

"Something That Can Serve You In The Enterprise You Are Going To

Undertake,  Because I Trust You Can Catch The Murderer Right In His

Nest.  To Do That,  I'll Not Conceal From You That I Think Your

Agents Will Have To Be Enormously Clever.  They Will Have To Watch

The Datcha Des Iles At Night,  Without Anyone Possibly Suspecting It.

No More Maroon Coats With False Astrakhan Trimmings,  Eh?  But

Apaches,  Apaches On The Wartrail,  Who Blend Themselves With The

Ground,  With The Trees,  With The Stones In The Roadway.  But Among

Those Apaches Don't Send That Agent Of Your Secret Service Who

Watched The Window While The Assassin Climbed To It."

"What?"

"Why,  These Climbs That You Can Read The Proofs Of On The Wall And

On The Iron Forgings Of The Balcony Went On While Your Agents,  Night

And Day,  Were Watching The Villa.  Have You Noticed,  Monsieur,  That

It Was Always The Same Agent Who Took The Post At Night,  Behind The

Villa,  Under The Window?  General Trebassof's Book In Which He Kept

A Statement Of The Exact Disposal Of Each Of Your Men During The

Period Of Siege Was Most Instructive On That Point.  The Other Posts

Changed In Turn,  But The Same Agent,  When He Was Among The Guard,

Demanded Always That Same Post,  Which Was Not Disputed By Anybody,

Since It Is No Fun To Pass The Hours Of The Night Behind A Wall,  In

An Empty Field.  The Others Much Preferred To Roll Away The Time

Watching In The Villa Or In Front Of The Lodge,  Where Vodka And

Crimean Wine,  Kwass And Pivo,  Kirsch And Tchi,  Never Ran Short.

That Agent's Name Is Touman."

"Touman!  Impossible!  He Is One Of The Best Agents From Kiew.  He

Was Recommended By Gounsovski."

Rouletabille Chuckled.

"Yes,  Yes,  Yes," Grumbled The Chief Of Police.  "Someone Always

Laughs When His Name Is Mentioned."

Koupriane Had Turned Red.  He Rose,  Opened The Door,  Gave A Long

Direction In Russian,  And Returned To His Chair.