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

Raised Toward Heaven,  The Mouth Which Had Just Uttered The Word

"Never," Then,  Slowly,  His Rude Lips Went To The Tortured,  Quivering

Lips Of The Girl.  He Held Her Close.  She Raised Her Head Wildly,

Triumphantly,  And Cried,  With Arm Extended Toward Matrena Petrovna:

"He Believes Me!  He Believes Me!  And You Would Have Believed Me

Also If You Had Been My Real Mother."

Her Head Fell Back And She Dropped Unconscious To The Floor.  Feodor

Fell To His Knees,  Tending Her,  Deploring Her,  Motioning The Others

Out Of The Room.

"Go Away!  All Of You,  Go!  All!  You,  Too,  Matrena Petrovna.  Go

Away!"

They Disappeared,  Terrified By His Savage Gesture.

In The Little Datcha Across The River At Krestowsky There Was A

Body.  Secret Service Agents Guarded It While They Waited For Their

Chief.  Michael Nikolaievitch Had Come There To Die,  And The Police

Had Reached Him Just At His Last Breath.  They Were Behind Him As,

With The Death-Rattle In His Throat,  He Pulled Himself Into His

Chamber And Fell In A Heap.  Katharina The Bohemian Was There.  She

Bent Her Quick-Witted,  Puzzled Head Over His Death Agony.  The

Police Swarmed Everywhere,  Ransacking,  Forcing Locks,  Pulling

Drawers From The Bureau And Tables,  Emptying The Cupboards.  Their

Search Took In Everything,  Even To Ripping The Mattresses,  And Not

Respecting The Rooms Of Boris Mourazoff,  Who Was Away This Night.

They Searched Thoroughly,  But They Found Absolutely Nothing They

Were Looking For In Michael's Rooms.  But They Accumulated A

Multitude Of Publications That Belonged To Boris: Western Books,

Essays On Political Economy,  A History Of The French Revolution,

And Verses That A Man Ought To Hang For.  They Put Them All Under

Seal.  During The Search Michael Died In Katharina's Arms.  She

Had Held Him Close,  After Opening His Clothes Over The Chest,

Doubtless To Make His Last Breaths Easier.  The Unfortunate Officer

Had Received A Bullet At The Back Of The Head Just After He Had

Plunged Into The Neva From The Rear Of The Trebassof Datcha And

Started To Swim Across.  It Was A Miracle That He Had Managed To

Keep Going.  Doubtless He Hoped To Die In Peace If Only He Could

Reach His Own House.  He Apparently Had Believed He Could Manage

That Once He Had Broken Through His Human Bloodhounds.  He Did Not

Know He Was Recognized And His Place Of Retreat Therefore Known.

Now The Police Had Gone From Cellar To Garret.  Koupriane Came From

The Trebassof Villa And Joined Them,  Rouletabille Followed Him.

The Reporter Could Not Stand The Sight Of That Body,  That Still Had

A Lingering Warmth,  Of The Great Open Eyes That Seemed To Stare At

Him,  Reproaching Him For This Violent Death.  He Turned Away In

Distaste,  And Perhaps A Little In Fright.  Koupriane Caught The

Movement.

"Regrets?" He Queried.

He Had Been Driven To Confess,  Even Though We Are Sure Of It."

"Being In The Pay Of The Nihilists,  You Mean?  That Is Still Your

Opinion?" Asked Koupriane.

"Yes."

"You Know That Nothing Has Been Found Here In His Rooms.  The Only

Compromising Papers That Have Been Found Belong To Boris Mourazoff."

"Why Do You Say That?"

"Oh - Nothing."

Koupriane Questioned His Men Further.  They Replied Categorically.

No,  Nothing Had Been Found That Directly Incriminated Anybody; And

Suddenly Rouletabille Noted That The Conversation Of The Police And

Their Chief Had Grown More Animated.  Koupriane Had Become Angry

And Was Violently Reproaching Them.  They Excused Themselves With

Vivid Gesture And Rapid Speech.

Koupriane Started Away.  Rouletabille Followed Him.  What Had

Happened?

As He Came Up Behind Koupriane,  He Asked The Question.  In A Few

Curt Words,  Still Hurrying On,  Koupriane Told The Reporter He Had

Just Learned That The Police Had Left The Little Bohemian Katharina

Alone For A Moment With The Expiring Officer.  Katharina Acted As

Housekeeper For Michael And Boris.  She Knew The Secrets Of Them

Both.  The First Thing Any Novice Should Have Known Was To Keep A

Constant Eye Upon Her,  And Now No One Knew Where She Was.  She Must

Be Searched For And Found At Once,  For She Had Opened Michael's

Shirt,  And Therein Probably Lay The Reason That No Papers Were Found

On The Corpse When The Police Searched It.  The Absence Of Papers,

Of A Portfolio,  Was Not Natural.

The Chase Commenced In The Rosy Dawn Of The Isles.  Already

Blood-Like Tints Were On The Horizon.  Some Of The Police Cried

That They Had The Trail.  They Ran Under The Trees,  Because It Was

Almost Certain She Had Taken The Narrow Path Leading To The Bridge

That Joins Krestowsky To Kameny-Ostrow.  Some Indications Discovered

By The Police Who Swarmed To Right And Left Of The Path Confirmed

This Hypothesis.  And No Carriage In Sight!  They All Ran On,

Koupriane Among The First.  Rouletabille Kept At His Heels,  But He

Did Not Pass Him.  Suddenly There Were Cries And Calls Among The

Police.  One Pointed Out Something Below Gliding Upon The Sloping

Descent.  It Was Little Kathanna.  She Flew Like The Wind,  But In

A Distracted Course.  She Had Reached Kameny-Ostrow On The West

Bank.  "Oh,  For A Carriage,  A Horse!" Clamored Koupriane,  Who Had

Left His Turn-Out At Eliaguine.  "The Proof Is There.  It Is The

Final Proof Of Everything That Is Escaping Us!"

Dawn Was Enough Advanced Now To Show The Ground Clearly.  Katharina

Was Easily Discernible As She Reached The Eliaguine Bridge.  There

She Was In Eliaguine-Ostrow.  What Was She Doing There? Was She

Going To The Trebassof Villa?  What Would She Have To Say To Them?

No,  She Swerved To The Right.  The Police Raced Behind Her.  She

Was Still Far Ahead,  And Seemed Untiring.  Then She Disappeared

Among The Trees,  In The Thicket,  Keeping Still To The Right.

Koupriane Gave A Cry Of Joy.  Going That Way She Must Be Taken.  He

Gave Some Breathless Orders For The Island To Be Barred.  She Could

Not Escape Now!  She Could Not Escape!  But Where Was She Going?

Koupriane Knew That Island Better Than Anybody.  He Took A Short

Cut To Reach The Other Side,  Toward Which Katharina Seemed To Be

Heading,  And All At Once He Nearly Fell Over The Girl,  Who Gave A

Squawk Of Surprise And Rushed Away,  Seeming All Arms And Legs.

"Stop,  Or I Fire!" Cried Koupriane,  And He Drew His Revolver.  But

A Hand Grabbed It From Him.

"Not That!" Said Rouletabille,  As Be Threw The Revolver Far From

Them.  Koupriane Swore At Him And Resumed The Chase.  His Fury

Multiplied His Strength,  His Agility; He Almost Reached Katharina,

Who Was Almost Out Of Breath,  But Rouletabille Threw Himself Into

The Chief's Arms And They Rolled Together Upon The Grass.  When

Koupriane Rose,  It Was To See Katharina Mounting In Mad Haste The

Stairs That Led To The Barque,  The Floating Restaurant Of The

Strielka.  Cursing Rouletabille,  But Believing His Prey Easily

Captured Now,  The Chief In His Turn Hurried To The Barque,  Into

Which Katharina Had Disappeared.  He Reached The Bottom Of The

Stairs.  On The Top Step,  About To Descend From The Festive Place,

The Form Of Prince Galltch Appeared.  Koupriane Received The Sight

Like A Blow Stopping Him Short In His Ascent.  Galitch Had An

Exultant Air Which Koupriane Did Not Mistake.  Evidently He Had

Arrived Too Late.  He Felt The Certainty Of It In Profound

Discouragement.  And This Appearance Of The Prince On The Barque

Explained Convincingly Enough The Reason For Katharina's Flight

Here.

If The Bohemian Had Filched The Papers Or The Portfolio From The

Dead,  It Was The Prince Now Who Had Them In His Pocket.

Koupriane,  As He Saw The Prince About To Pass Him,  Trembled.  The

Prince Saluted Him And Ironically Amused Himself By Inquiring:

"Well,  Well,  How Do You Do,  My Dear Monsieur Koupriane.  Your

Excellency Has Risen In Good Time This Morning,  It Seems To Me.

Or Else It Is I Who Start For Bed Too Late."

"Prince," Said Koupriane,  "My Men Are In Pursuit Of A Little Bohemian

Named Katharina,  Well Known In The Restaurants Where She Sings.  We

Have Seen Her Go Into The Barque.  Have You Met Her By Any Chance?"

"Good Lord,  Monsieur Koupriane,  I Am Not The Concierge Of The Barque,

And I Have Not Noticed Anything At All,  And Nobody.  Besides,  I Am

Naturally A Little Sleepy.  Pardon Me."

"Prince,  It Is Not Possible That You Have Not Seen Katharina."

"Oh,  Monsieur The Prefect Of Police,  If I Had Seen Her I Would Not

Tell You About It,  Since You Are Pursuing Her.  Do You Take Me For

One Of Your Bloodhounds?  They Say You Have Them In All Classes,

But I Insist That I Haven't Enlisted Yet.  You Have Made A Mistake,

Monsieur Koupriane."

The Prince Saluted Again.  But Koupriane Still Stood In His Way.

"Prince,  Consider That This Matter Is Very Serious.  Michael

Nikolaievitch,  General Trebassof's Orderly,  Is Dead,  And This

Little Girl Has Stolen His Papers From His Body.  All Persons Who

Have Spoken With Katharina Will Be Under Suspicion.  This Is An

Affair Of State,  Monsieur,  Which May Reach Very Far.  Can You

Swear To Me That You Have Not Seen,  That You Have Not Spoken To

Katharina?"

The Prince Looked At Koupriane So Insolently That The Prefect Turned

Pale With Rage.  Ah,  If He Were Able - If He Only Dared!  - But Such

Men As This Were Beyond Him.  Galitch Walked Past Him Without A Word

Of Answer,  And Ordered The Schwitzar To Call Him A Carriage.

"Very Well," Said Koupriane,  "I Will Make My Report To The Tsar."

Galitch Turned.  He Was As Pale As Koupriane.

"In That Case,  Monsieur," Said He,  "Don't Forget To Add That I Am

His Majesty's Most Humble Servant."

The Carriage Drew Up.  The Prince Stepped In.  Koupriane Watched

Him Roll Away,  Raging At Heart And With His Fists Doubled.  Just

Then His Men Came Up.

"Go.  Search," He Said Roughiy,  Pointing Into The Barque.

They Scattered Through The Establishment,  Entering All The Rooms.

Cries Of Irritation And Of Protest Arose.  Those Lingering After

The Latest Of Late Suppers Were Not Pleased At This Invasion Of The

Police.  Everybody Had To Rise While The Police Looked Under The

Tables,  The Benches,  The Long Table-Cloths.  They Went Into The

Pantries And Down Into The Bold.  No Sign Of Katharina.  Suddenly

Koupriane,  Who Leaned Against A Netting And Looked Vaguely Out Upon

The Horizon,  Waiting For The Outcome Of The Search,  Got A Start.

Yonder,  Far Away On The Other Side Of The River,  Between A Little

Wood And The