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

Couldn't Help Noticing How Strange He Looked.  He Passed Through A

Court With Him,  And Into A Squalid Shop.

"What," Said Koupriane,  "Do You Know Pere Alexis?"

They Were In The Midst Of A Curious Litter.  Clusters Of Dried Herbs

Hung From The Ceiling,  And All Among Them Were Clumps Of Old Boots,

Shriveled Skins,  Battered Pans,  Scrap-Iron,  Sheep-Skins,  Useless

Touloupes,  And On The Floor Musty Old Clothes,  Moth-Eaten Furs,  And

Sheep-Skin Coats That Even A Moujik Of The Swamps Would Not Have

Deigned To Wear.  Here And There Were Old Teeth,  Ragged Finery,

Dilapidated Hats,  And Jars Of Strange Herbs Ranged Upon Some Rickety

Shelving.  Between The Set Of Scales On The Counter And A Heap Of

Little Blocks Of Wood Used For Figuring The Accounts Of This Singular

Business Were Ungilded Ikons,  Oxidized Silver Crosses,  And Byzantine

Pictures Representing Scenes From The Old And New Testaments.  Jars

Of Alcohol With What Seemed To Be The Skeletons Of Frogs Swimming

In Them Filled What Space Was Left.  In A Corner Of This Large,

Murky Room,  Under The Vault Of Mossed Stone,  A Small Altar Stood

And The Light Burned In A Hanging Glass Of Oil Before The Holy

Images.  A Man Was Praying Before The Altar.  He Wore The Costume

Of Old Russia,  The Caftan Of Green Cloth,  Buttoned At The Shoulder

And Tucked In At The Waist By A Narrow Belt.  He Had A Bushy Beard

And His Hair Fell To His Shoulders.  When He Had Finished His Prayer

He Rose,  Perceived Rouletabille And Came Over To Take His Hand.  He

Spoke French To The Reporter:

"Well,  Here You Are Again,  Lad.  Do You Bring Poison Again To-Day?

This Will End By Being Found Out,  And The Police..."

Just Then He Discerned Koupriane's Form In The Shadow,  Drew Close

To Make Out Who It Was,  And Fell To His Knees As He Saw Who It Was.

Rouletabille Tried To Raise Him,  But He Insisted On Prostrating

Himself.  He Was Sure The Prefect Of Police Had Come To His House

To Hang Him.  Finally He Was Reassured By Rouletabile's Positive

Assertions And The Great Chief's Robust Laugh.  The Prefect Wished

To Know How The Young Man Came To Be Acquainted With The "Alchemist"

Of The Police.  Rouletabille Told Him In A Few Words.

Maitre Alexis,  In His Youth,  Went To France Afoot,  To Study Pharmacy,

Because Of His Enthusiasm For Chemistry.  But He Always Remained

Countrified,  Very Much A Russian Peasant,  A Semi-Oriental Bear,  And

Did Not Achieve His Degree.  He Took Some Certificates,  But The

Examinations Were Too Much For Him.  For Fifty Years He Lived

Miserably As A Pharmacist's Assistant In The Back Of A Disreputable

Shop In The Notre Dame Quarter.  The Proprietor Of The Place Was

Implicated In The Famous Affair Of The Gold Ingots,  Which Started

Rouletabille's Reputation,  And Was Arrested Along With His Assistant,

Alexis.  It Was Rouletabille Who Proved,  Clear As Day,  That Poor

Alexis Was Innocent,  And That He Had Never Been Cognizant Of His

Master's Evil Ways,  Being Absorbed In The Depths Of His Laboratory

In Trying To Work Out A Naive Alchemy Which Fascinated Him,  Though

The World Of Chemistry Had Passed It By Centuries Ago.   At The

Trial Alexis Was Acquitted,  But Found Himself In The Street.  He

Shed What Tears Remained In His Body Upon The Neck Of The Reporter,

Assuring Him Of Paradise If He Got Him Back To His Own Country,

Because He Desired Only The One Thing More Of Life,  That He Might

See His Birth-Land Before He Died.  Rouletabille Advanced The

Necessary Means And Sent Him To St. Petersburg.  There He Was Picked

Up At The End Of Two Days By The Police,  In A Petty Gambling-Game,

And Thrown Into Prison,  Where He Promptly Had A Chance To Show His

Talents.  He Cured Some Of His Companions In Misery,  And Even Some

Of The Guards.  A Guard Who Had An Injured Leg,  Whose Healing He

Had Despaired Of,  Was Cured By Alexis.  Then There Was Found To Be

No Actual Charge Against Him.  They Set Him Free And,  Moreover,

They Interested Themselves In Him.  They Found Meager Employment

For Him In The Stchoukine-Dvor,  An Immense Popular Bazaar.  He

Accumulated A Few Roubles And Installed Himself On His Own Account

At The Back Of A Court In The Aptiekarski-Pereoulok,  Where He

Gradually Piled Up A Heap Of Old Odds And Ends That No One Wanted

Even In The Stchoukine-Dvor.  But He Was Happy,  Because Behind His

Shop He Had Installed A Little Laboratory Where He Continued For

His Pleasure His Experiments In Alchemy And His Study Of Plants.

He Still Proposed To Write A Book That He Had Already Spoken Of In

France To Rouletabille,  To Prove The Truth Of "Empiric Treatment

Of Medicinal Herbs,  The Science Of Alchemy,  And The Ancient

Experiments In Sorcery."  Between Times He Continued To Cure Anyone

Who Applied To Him,  And The Police In Particular.  The Police Guards

Protected Him And Used Him.  He Had Splendid Plasters For Them After

"The Scandal," As They Called The October Riots.  So When The

Doctors Of The Quarter Tried To Prosecute Him For Illegal Practice,

A Deputation Of Police-Guards Went To Koupriane,  Who Took The

Responsibility And Discontinued Proceedings Against Him.  They

Regarded Him As Under Protection Of The Saints,  And Alexis Soon

Came To Be Regarded Himself As Something Of A Holy Man.  He Never

Failed Every Christmas And Easter To Send His Finest Images To

Rouletabille,  Wishing Him All Prosperity And Saying That If Ever

He Came To St. Petersburg He Should Be Happy To Receive Him At

Aptiekarski-Pereoulok,  Where He Was Established In Honest Labor.

Pere Alexis,  Like All The True Saints,  Was A Modest Man.

When Alexis Had Recovered A Little From His Emotion Rouletabille

Said To Him:

"Pere Alexis,  I Do Bring You Poison Again,  But You Have Nothing To

Fear,  For His Excellency The Chief Of Police Is With Me.  Here Is

What We Want You To Do.  You Must Tell Us What Poison These Four

Glasses Have Held,  And What Poison Is Still In This Flask And This

Little Phial."

"What Is That Little Phial?" Demanded Koupriane,  As He Saw

Rouletabille Pull A Small,  Stoppered Bottle Out Of His Pocket.

The Reporter Replied,  "I Have Put Into This Bottle The Vodka That

Was Poured Into Natacha's Glass And Mine And That We Barely Touched."

"Someone Has Tried To Poison You!" Exclaimed Pere Alexis.

"No,  Not Me," Replied Rouletabille,  In Bored Fashion.  "Don't Think

About That.  Simply Do What I Tell You.  Then Analyze These Two

Napkins,  As Well."

And He Drew From His Coat Two Soiled Napkins.

"Well," Said Koupriane,  "You Have Thought Of Everything."

"They Are The Napkins The General And His Wife Used."

"Yes,  Yes,  I Understand That," Said The Chief Of Police.

"And You,  Alexis,  Do You Understand?" Asked The Reporter.  "When

Can We Have The Result Of Your Analysis?

"In An Hour,  At The Latest."

"Very Well," Said Koupriane.  "Now I Need Not Tell You To Hold Your

Tongue.  I Am Going To Leave One Of My Men Here.  You Will Write Us

A Note That You Will Seal,  And He Will Bring It To Head-Quarters.

Sure You Understand?  In An Hour?"

"In An Hour,  Excellency."

They Went Out,  And Alexis Followed Them,  Bowing To The Floor.

Koupriane Had Rouletabille Get Into His Carriage.  The Young Man

Did As He Was Told.  One Would Have Said He Did Not Know Where He

Was Or What He Did.  He Made No Reply To The Chief's Questions.

"This Pere Alexander," Resumed Koupriane,  "Is A Character,  Really

Quite A Figure.  And A Bit Of A Schemer,  I Should Say.  He Has Seen

How Father John Of Cronstadt Succeeded,  And He Says To Himself,

'Since The Sailors Had Their Father John Of Cronstadt,  Why Shouldn't

The Police-Guard Have Their Father Alexis Of Aptiekarski-Pereoulok?'"

But Rouletabille Did Not Reply At All,  And Koupriane Wound Up By

Demanding What Was The Matter With Him.

"The Matter Is," Replied Rouletabille,  Unable Longer To Conceal His

Anguish,  "That The Poison Continues."

"Does That Astonish You?" Returned Koupriane.  "It Doesn't Me."

Rouletabille Looked At Him And Shook His Head.  His Lips Trembled

As He Said,  "I Know What You Think.  It Is Abominable.  But The

Thing I Have Done Certainly Is More Abominable Still."

"What Have You Done,  Then,  Monsieur Rouletabille?"

"Perhaps I Have Caused The Death Of An Innocent Man."

"So Long As You Aren't Sure Of It,  You Would Better Not Fret About

It,  My Dear Friend."

"It Is Enough That The Doubt Has Arisen," Said The Reporter,  "Almost

To Kill Me;" And He Heaved So Gloomy A Sigh That The Excellent

Monsieur Koupriane Felt Pity For The Lad.  He Tapped Him On The Knee.

"Come,  Come,  Young Man,  You Ought To Know One Thing By This Time

- 'You Can't Make Omelettes Without Breaking Eggs,' As They Say,  I

Think,  In Paris."

Rouletabille Turned Away From Him With Horror In His Heart.  If

There Should Be Another,  Someone Besides Michael!  If It Was Another

Hand Than His That Appeared To Matrena And Him In The Mysterious

Night!  If Michael Nikolaievitch Had Been Innocent!  Well,  He

Would Kill Himself,  That Was All.  And Those Horrible Words That He

Had Exchanged With Natacha Rose In His Memory,  Singing In His Ears

As Though They Would Deafen Him.

"Do You Doubt Still?" He Had Asked Her,  "That Michael Tried To

Poison Your Father?"

And Natacha Had Replied,  "I Wish To Believe It!  I Wish To Believe

It,  For Your Sake,  My Poor Boy."  And Then He Recalled Her Other

Words,  Still More Frightful Now!  "Couldn't Someone Have Tried To

Poison My Father And Not Have Come By The Window?"  He Had Faced

Such A Hypothesis With Assurance Then - But Now,  Now That The Poison

Continued,  Continued Within The House,  Where He Believed Himself

So Fully Aware Of All People And Things - Continued Now That Michael

Nikolaievitch Was Dead - Ah,  Where Did It Come From,  This Poison?

- And What Was It?  Pere Alexis Would Hurry His Analysis If He Had

Any Regard For Poor Rouletabille.

For Rouletabille To Doubt,  And In An Affair Where Already There Was

One Man Dead Through His Agency,  Was Torment Worse Than Death.

When They Arrived At Police-Headquarters,  Rouletabille Jumped From

Koupriane's Carriage And Without Saying A Word Hailed An Empty

Isvotchick That Was Passing.  He Had Himself Driven Back To Pere

Alexis.  His Doubt Mastered His Will;