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

Say,  'I Wish To Believe It,  My Poor Boy.'"

"Monsieur Rouletabille,  Someone Might Have Tried To Poison My Father,

And Not Have Come By Way Of The Window."

"No,  That Is Impossible."

"Nothing Is Impossible To Them."

And She Turned Her Head Away Again.

"Why,  Why," She Said,  With Her Voice Entirely Changed And Quite

Indifferent,  As If She Wished To Be Merely 'The Daughter Of The

House' In Conversation With The Young Man,  "The Vodka Is Not In

The Wine Chest,  After All.  What Has Ermolai Done With It,  Then?"

She Ran Over To The Buffet And Found The Flask.

"Oh,  Here It Is.  Papa Shan't Be Without It,  After All."

Rouletabille Was Already Into The Garden Again.

"If That Is The Only Doubt She Has," He Said To Himself,  "I Can

Reassure Her.  No One Could Come,  Excepting By The Window.  And

Only One Came That Way."

The Young Girl Had Rejoined Him,  Bringing The Flask.  They Crossed

The Garden Together To The General,  Who Was Whiling Away The Time

As He Waited For His Vodka Explaining To Matrena Petrovna The Nature

Of "The Constitution."  He Had Spilt A Box Of Matches On The Table

And Arranged Them Carefully.

"Here," He Cried To Natacha And Rouletabille.  "Come Here And I Will

Explain To You As Well What This Constitution Amounts To."

The Young People Leaned Over His Demonstration Curiously And All

Eyes In The Kiosk Were Intent On The Matches.

"You See That Match," Said Feodor Feodorovitch.  "It Is The Emperor.

And This Other Match Is The Empress; This One Is The Tsarevitch;

And That One Is The Grand-Duke Alexander; And These Are The Other

Granddukes.  Now,  Here Are The Ministers And There The Principal

Governors,  And Then The Generals; These Here Are The Bishops."

The Whole Box Of Matches Was Used Up,  And Each Match Was In Its

Place,  As Is The Way In An Empire Where Proper Etiquette Prevails

In Government And The Social Order.

"Well," Continued The General,  "Do You Want To Know,  Matrena

Petrovna,  What A Constitution Is?  There!  That Is The Constitution."

The General,  With A Swoop Of His Hand,  Mixed All The Matches.

Rouletabille Laughed,  But The Good Matrena Said:

"I Don't Understand,  Feodor."

"Find The Emperor Now."

Then Matrena Understood.  She Laughed Heartily,  She Laughed

Violently,  And Natacha Laughed Also.  Delighted With His Success,

Feodor Feodorovitch Took Up One Of The Little Glasses That Natacha

Had Filled With The Vodka She Brought.

"Listen,  My Children," Said He.  "We Are Going To Commence The

Zakouskis.  Koupriane Ought To Have Been Here Before This."

Saying This,  Holding Still The Little Glass In His Hand,  He Felt In

His Pocket With The Other For His Watch,  And Drew Out A Magnificent

Large Watch Whose Ticking Was Easily Heard.

"Ah,  The Watch Has Come Back From The Repairer," Rouletabille

Remarked Smilingly To Matrena Petrovna.  "It Looks Like A Splendid

One."

"It Has Very Fine Works," Said The General.  "It Was Bequeathed To

Me By My Grandfather.  It Marks The Seconds,  And The Phases Of The

Moon,  And Sounds The Hours And Half-Hours."

Rouletabille Bent Over The Watch,  Admiring It.

"You Expect M.  Koupriane For Dinner?" Inquired The Young Man,  Still

Examining The Watch.

"Yes,  But Since He Is So Late,  We'll Not Delay Any Longer.  Your

Healths,  My Children," Said The General As Rouletabille Handed Him

Back The Watch And He Put It In His Pocket.

"Your Health,  Feodor Feodorovitch," Replied Matrena Petrovna,  With

Her Usual Tenderness.

Rouletabille And Natacha Only Touched Their Lips To The Vodka,  But

Feodor Feodorovitch And Matrena Drank Theirs In The Russian Fashion,

Head Back And All At A Draught,  Draining It To The Bottom And

Flinging The Contents To The Back Of The Throat.  They Had No More

Than Performed This Gesture When The General Uttered An Oath And

Tried To Expel What He Had Drained So Heartily.  Matrena Petrovna

Spat Violently Also,  Looking With Horror At Her Husband.

"What Is It?  What Has Someone Put In The Vodka?" Cried Feodor.

"What Has Someone Put In The Vodka?" Repeated Matrena Petrovna In

A Thick Voice,  Her Eyes Almost Starting From Her Head.

The Two Young People Threw Themselves Upon The Unfortunates.

Feodor's Face Had An Expression Of Atrocious Suffering.

"We Are Poisoned," Cried The General,  In The Midst Of His Chokings.

"I Am Burning Inside."

Almost Mad,  Natacha Took Her Father's Head In Her Hands.  She Cried

To Him:

"Vomit,  Papa; Vomit!"

"We Must Find An Emetic," Cried Rauletabille,  Holding On To The

General,  Who Had Almost Slipped From His Arms.

Matrena Petrovna,  Whose Gagging Noises Were Violent,  Hurried Down

The Steps Of The Kiosk,  Crossed The Garden As Though Wild-Fire Were

Behind Her,  And Bounded Into The Veranda.  During This Time The

General Succeeded In Easing Himself,  Thanks To Rouletabille,  Who

Had Thrust A Spoon To The Root Of His Tongue.  Natacha Could Do

Nothing But Cry,  "My God,  My God,  My God!" Feodor Held Onto His

Stomach,  Still Crying,  "I'm Burning,  I'm Burning!"  The Scene Was

Frightfully Tragic And Funny At The Same Time.  To Add To The

Burlesque,  The General's Watch In His Pocket Struck Eight O'clock.

Feodor Feodorovitch Stood Up In A Final Supreme Effort.  "Oh,  It Is

Horrible!" Matrena Petrovna Showed A Red,  Almost Violet Face As She

Came Back; She Distorted It,  She Choked,  Her Mouth Twitched,  But

She Brought Something,  A Little Packet That She Waved,  And From

Which,  Trembling Frightenedly,  She Shook A Powder Into The First

Two Empty Glasses,  Which Were On Her Side Of The Table And Were

Those She And The General Had Drained.  She Still Had Strength To

Fill Them With Water,  While Rouletabille Was Almost Overcome By The

General,  Whom He Still Had In His Arms,  And Natacha Concerned

Herself With Nothing But Her Father,  Leaning Over Him As Though

To Follow The Progress Of The Terrible Poison,  To Read In His Eyes

If It Was To Be Life Or Death.  "Ipecac," Cried Matrena Petrovna,

And She Made The General Drink It.  She Did Not Drink Until After

Him.  The Heroic Woman Must Have Exerted Superhuman Force To Go

Herself To Find The Saving Antidote In Her Medicine-Chest,  Even

While The Agony Pervaded Her Vitals.

Some Minutes Later Both Could Be Considered Saved.  The Servants,

Ermolai At Their Head,  Were Clustered About.  Most Of Them Had Been

At The Lodge And They Had Not,  It Appeared,  Heard The Beginning Of

The Affair,  The Cries Of Natacha And Rouletabille.  Koupriane

Arrived Just Then.  It Was He Who Worked With Natacha In Getting

The Two To Bed.  Then He Directed One Of His Agents To Go For The

Nearest Doctors They Could Find.

This Done,  The Prefect Of Police Went Toward The Kiosk Where He Had

Left Rouletabille.  But Rouletabille Was Not To Be Found,  And The

Flask Of Vodka And The Glasses From Which They Had Drunk Were Gone

Also.  Ermolai Was Near-By,  And He Inquired Of The Servant For The

Young Frenchman.  Ermolai Replied That He Had Just Gone Away,

Carrying The Flask And The Glasses.  Koupriane Swore.  He Shook

Ermolai And Even Started To Give Him A Blow With The Fist For

Permitting Such A Thing To Happen Before His Eyes Without Making A

Protest.

Ermolai,  Who Had His Own Haughtiness,  Dodged Koupriane's Fist And

Replied That He Had Wished To Prevent The Young Frenchman,  Hut The

Reporter Had Shown Him A Police-Paper On Which Koupriane Himself

Had Declared In Advance That The Young Frenchman Was To Do Anything

He Pleased.

Koupriane Jumped Into His Carriage And Hurried Toward St. Petersburg.

On The Way He Spoke To Three Agents Who Only He Knew Were Posted In

The Neighborhood Of Eliaguine.  They Told Him The Route Rouletabille

Had Taken.  The Reporter Had Certainly Returned Into The City.  He

Hurried Toward Troitski Bridge.  There,  At The Corner Of The

Naberjnaia,  Koupriane Saw The Reporter In A Hired Conveyance.

Rouletabille Was Pounding His Coachman In The Back,  Russian Fashion,

To Make Him Go Faster,  And Was Calling With All His Strength One Of

The Few Words He Had Had Time To Learn,  "Naleva,  Naleva" (To The

Left).  The Driver Was Forced To Understand At Last,  For There Was

No Other Way To Turn Than To The Left.  If He Had Turned To The

Right (Naprava) He Would Have Driven Into The River.  The

Conveyance Clattered Over The Pointed Flints Of A Neighborhood That

Led To A Little Street,  Aptiekarski-Pereoulok,  At The Corner Of The

Katharine Canal.  This "Alley Of The Pharmacists" As A Matter Of

Fact Contained No Pharmacists,  But There Was A Curious Sign Of A

Herbarium,  Where Rouletabille Made The Driver Stop.  As The Carriage

Rolled Under The Arch Rouletabille Recognized Koupriane.  He Did

Not Wait,  But Cried To Him,  "Ah,  Here You Are.  All Right; Follow

Me."  He Still Had The Flask And The Glasses In His Hands.  Koupriane