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

Repose Now.  Good Luck!"

But Koupriane Had Seized His Hand.

"Listen."

With A Little Attention They Detected A Light Stroke On The Water.

If A Boat Was Moving At This Time For This Bank Of The Neva And

Wished To Remain Hidden,  The Right Moment Had Certainly Been Chosen.

A Great Black Cloud Covered The Moon; The Wind Was Light.  The Boat

Would Have Time To Get From One Bank To The Other Without Being

Discovered.  Rouletabille Waited No Longer.  On All-Fours He Ran

Like A Beast,  Rapidly And Silently,  And Rose Behind The Wall Of The

Villa,  Where He Made A Turn,  Reached The Gate,  Aroused The Dvornicks

And Demanded Ermolai,  Who Opened The Gate For Him.

"The Barinia?" He Said.

Ermolai Pointed His Finger To The Bedroom Floor.

"Caracho!"

Rouletabille Was Already Across The Garden And Had Hoisted Himself

By His Fingers To The Window Of Natacha's Chamber,  Where He Listened.

He Plainly Heard Natacha Walking About In The Dark Chamber.  

Back Lightly Onto His Feet,  Mounted The Veranda Steps And Opened The

Door,  Then Closed It So Lightly That Ermolai,  Who Watched Him From

Outside Not Two Feet Away,  Did Not Hear The Slightest Grinding Of

The Hinges.  Inside The Villa Rouletabille Advanced On Tiptoe.  He

Found The Door Of The Drawing-Room Open.  The Door Of The

Sitting-Room Had Not Been Closed,  Or Else Had Been Reopened.  He

Turned In His Tracks,  Felt In The Dark For A Chair And Sat Down,

With His Hand On His Revolver In His Pocket,  Waiting For The Events

That Would Not Delay Long Now.  Above He Heard Distinctly From Time

To Time The Movements Of Matrena Petrovna.  And This Would Evidently

Give A Sense Of Security To Those Who Needed To Have The Ground-Floor

Free This Night.  Rouletabille Imagined That The Doors Of The Rooms

On The Ground-Floor Had Been Left Open So That It Would Be Easier

For Those Who Would Be Below To Hear What Was Happening Upstairs.

And Perhaps He Was Not Wrong.

Suddenly There Was A Vertical Bar Of Pale Light From The Sitting-Room

That Overlooked The Neva.  He Deduced Two Things: First,  That The

Window Was Already Slightly Open,  Then That The Moon Was Out From

The Clouds Again.  The Bar Of Light Died Almost Instantly,  But

Rouletabille's Eyes,  Now Used To The Obscurity,  Still Distinguished

The Open Line Of The Window.  There The Shade Was Less Deep.

Suddenly He Felt The Blood Pound At His Temples,  For The Line Of The

Open Window Grew Larger,  Increased,  And The Shadow Of A Man Gradually

Rose On The Balcony.  Rouletabille Drew His Revolver.

The Man Stood Up Immediately Behind One Of The Shutters And Struck

A Light Blow On The Glass.  Placed As He Was Now He Could Be Seen

No More.  His Shadow Mixed With The Shadow Of The Shutter.  At The

Noise On The Glass Natacha's Door Had Opened Cautiously,  And She

Entered The Sitting-Room.  On Tiptoe She Went Quickly To The Window

And Opened It.  The Man Entered.  The Little Light That By Now Was

Commencing To Dawn Was Enough To Show Rouletabille That Natacha

Still Wore The Toilette In Which He Had Seen Her That Same Evening

At Krestowsky.  As For The Man,  He Tried In Vain To Identify Him;

He Was Only A Dark Mass Wrapped In A Mantle.  He Leaned Over And

Kissed Natacha's Hand.  She Said Only One Word: "Scan!" (Quickly).

But She Had No More Than Said It Before,  Under A Vigorous Attack,

The Shutters And The Two Halves Of The Window Were Thrown Wide,  And

Silent Shadows Jumped Rapidly Onto The Balcony And Sprang Into The

Villa.  Natacha Uttered A Shrill Cry In Which Rouletabille Believed

Still He Heard More Of Despair Than Terror,  And The Shadows Threw

Themselves On The Man; But He,  At The First Alarm,  Had Thrown

Himself Upon The Carpet And Had Slipped From Them Between Their

Legs.  He Regained The Balcony And Jumped From It As The Others

Turned Toward Him.  At Least,  It Was So That Rouletabille Believed

He Saw The Mysterious Struggle Go In The Half-Light,  Amid Most

Impressive Silence,  After That Frightened Cry Of Natacha's.  The

Whole Affair Had Lasted Only A Few Seconds,  And The Man Was Still

Hanging Over The Balcony,  When From The Bottom Of The Hall A New

Person Sprang.  It Was Matrena Petrovna.

Warned By Koupriane That Something Would Happen That Night,  And

Foreseeing That It Would Happen On The Ground-Floor Where She Was

Forbidden To Be,  She Had Found Nothing Better To Do Than To Make

Her Faithful Maid Go Secretly To The Bedroom Floor,  With Orders To

Walk About There All Night,  To Make All Think She Herself Was Near

The General,  While She Remained Below,  Hidden In The Dining-Room.

Matrena Petrovna Now Threw Herself Out Onto The Balcony,  Crying In

Russian,  "Shoot!  Shoot!"  In Just That Moment The Man Was Hesitating

Whether To Risk The Jump And Perhaps Break His Neck,  Or Descend Less

Rapidly By The Gutter-Pipe.  A Policeman Fired And Missed Him,  And

The Man,  After Firing Back And Wounding The Policeman,  Disappeared.

It Was Still Too Far From Dawn For Them To See Clearly What Happened

Below,  Where The Barking Of Brownings Alone Was Heard.  And There

Could Be Nothing More Sinister Than The Revolver-Shots Unaccompanied

By Cries In The Mists Of The Morning.  The Man,  Before He

Disappeared,  Had Had Only Time By A Quick Kick To Throw Down One Of

The Two Ladders Which Had Been Used By The Police In Climbing; Down

The Other One All The Police In A Bunch,  Even To The Wounded One,

Went Sliding,  Falling,  Rising,  Running After The Shadow Which Fled

Still,  Discharging The Browning Steadily; Other Shadows Rose From

The River-Bank,  Hovering In The Mist.  Suddenly Koupniane's Voice

Was Heard Shouting Orders,  Calling Upon His Agents To Take The

Quarry Alive Or Dead.  From The Balcony Matrena Petrovna Cried Out

Also,  Like A Savage,  And Rouletabille Tried In Vain To Keep Her

Quiet.  She Was Delirious At The Thought "The Other" Might Escape

Yet.  She Fired A Revolver,  She Also,  Into The Group,  Not Knowing

Whom She Might Wound.   Rouletabille Grabbed Her Arm And As She

Turned On Him Angrily She Observed Natacha,  Who,  Leaning Until She

Almost Fell Over The Balcony,  Her Lips Trembling With Delirious

Utterance,  Followed As Well As She Could The Progress Of The

Struggle,  Trying To Understand What Happened Below,  Under The Trees,

Near The Neva,  Where The Tumult By Now Extended.  Matrena Petrovna

Pulled Her Back By The Arms.  Then She Took Her By The Neck And

Threw Her Into The Drawing-Room In A Heap.  When She Had Almost

Strangled Her Step-Daughter,  Matrena Petrovna Saw That The General

Was There.  He Appeared In The Pale Glimmerings Of Dawn Like A

Specter.  By What Miracle Had Feodor Feodorovitch Been Able To

Descend The Stairs And Reach There?  How Had It Been Brought About?

She Saw Him Tremble With Anger Or With Wretchedness Under The Folds

Of The Soldier's Cape That Floated About Him.  He Demanded In A

Hoarse Voice,  "What Is It?"

Matrena Petrovna Threw Herself At His Feet,  Made The Orthodox Sign

Of The Cross,  As If She Wished To Summon God To Witness,  And Then,

Pointing To Natacha,  She Denounced His Daughter To Her Husband As

She Would Have Pointed Her Out To A Judge.

"The One,  Feodor Feodorovitch,  Who Has Wished More Than Once To

Assassinate You,  And Who This Night Has Opened The Datcha To Your

Assassin Is Your Daughter."

The General Held Himself Up By His Two Hands Against The Wall,  And,

Looking At Matrena And Natacha,  Who Now Were Both Upon The Floor

Before Him Like Suppliants,  He Said To Matrena:

"It Is You Who Assassinate Me."

"Me!  By The Living God!" Babbled Matrena Petrovna Desperately.

"If I Had Been Able To Keep This From You,  Jesus Would Have Been

Good!  But I Say No More To Crucify You.  Feodor Feodorovitch,

Question Your Daughter,  And If What I Have Said Is Not True,  Kill

Me,  Kill Me As A Lying,  Evil Beast.  I Will Say Thank You,  Thank

You,  And I Will Die Happier Than If What I Have Said Was True.  Ah,

I Long To Be Dead!  Kill Me!"

Feodor Feodorovitch Pushed Her Back With His Stick As One Would

Push A Worm In His Path.  Without Saying Anything Further,  She Rose

From Her Knees And Looked With Her Haggard Eyes,  With Her Crazed

Face,  At Rouletabille,  Who Grasped Her Arm.  If She Had Had Her

Hands Still Free She Would Not Have Hesitated A Second In Wreaking

Justice Upon Herself Under This Bitter Fate Of Alienating Feodor.

And It Seemed Frightful To Rouletabille That He Should Be Present

At One Of Those Horrible Family Dramas The Issue Of Which In The

Wild Times Of Peter The Great Would Have Sent The General To The

Hangman Either As A Father Or As A Husband.

The General Did Not Deign Even To Consider For Any Length Of Time

Matrena's Delirium.  He Said To His Daughter,  Who Shook With Sobs

On The Floor,  "Rise,  Natacha Feodorovna."  And Feodor's Daughter

Understood That Her Father Never Would Believe In Her Guilt.  She

Drew Herself Up Towards Him And Kissed His Hands Like A Happy Slave.

At This Moment Repeated Blows Shook The Veranda Door.  Matrena,  The

Watch-Dog,  Anxious To Die After Feodor's Reproach,  But Still At Her

Post,  Ran Toward What She Believed To Be A New Danger.  But She

Recognized Koupriane's Voice,  Which Called On Her To Open.  She Let

Him In Herself.

"What Is It?" She Implored.

"Well,  He Is Dead."

A Cry Answered Him.  Natacha Had Heard.

"But Who - Who - Who?" Questioned Matrena Breathlessly.

Koupriane Went Over To Feodor And Grasped His Hands.

"General," He Said,  "There Was A Man Who Had Sworn Your Ruin And

Who Was Made An Instrument By Your Enemies.  We Have Just Killed

That Man."

"Do I Know Him?" Demanded Feodor.

"He Is One Of Your Friends,  You Have Treated Him Like A Son."

"His Name?"