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

Staircase Rose Amid Flame And Smoke,  And The Group Which Sang The

Bodje Tsara Krani Disappeared In A Horrible Apotheosis.

They Ascertained The Next Day That There Had Been Two Explosions,

Almost Simultaneous,  One Under Each Staircase.  The Two Nihilists,

When They Felt Themselves Discovered,  And Watched By Ermolai,  Had

Thrown Themselves Silently On Him As He Turned His Back In Passing

Them,  And Strangled Him With A Piece Of Twine.  Then They Separated

Each To Watch One Of The Staircases,  Reasoning That Koupriane And

General Trebassof Would Have To Decide To Descend.

The Datcha Des Iles Was Nothing Now But A Smoking Ruin.  But From

The Fact That The Living Bombs Had Exploded Separately The

Destructive Effect Was Diffused,  And Although There Were Numerous

Wounded,  As In The Case Of The Attack On The Stolypine Datcha,  At

Least No One Was Killed Outright; That Is,  Excepting The Two

Nihilists,  Of Whom No Trace Could Be Found Save A Few Rags.

Rouletabille Had Been Hurled Into The Garden And He Was Glad Enough

To Escape So,  A Little Shaken,  But Without A Scratch.  The Group

Composed Of Feodor And His Friends Were Strangely Protected By The

Lightness Of The Datcha's Construction.  The Iron Staircase,  Which,

So To Speak,  Almost Hung To The Two Floors,  Being Barely Attached

At Top And Bottom,  Raised Under Them And Then Threw Them Off As It

Broke Into A Thousand Pieces,  But Only After,  By Its Very Yielding,

It Had Protected Them From The First Force Of The Bomb.  They Had

Risen From The Ruins Without Mortal Wounds.  Koupriane Had A Hand

Badly Burned,  Athanase Georgevitch Had His Nose And Cheeks Seriously

Hurt,  Ivan Petrovitch Lost An Ear; The Most Seriously Injured Was

Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff,  Both Of Whose Legs Were Broken.

Extraordinarily Enough,  The First Person Who Appeared,  Rising From

The Midst Of The Wreckage,  Was Matrena Petrovna,  Still Holding

Feodor In Her Arms.  She Had Escaped With A Few Burns And The

General,  Saved Again By The Luck Of The Soldier Whom Death Does Not

Want,  Was Absolutely Uninjured.  Feodor Gave Shouts Of Joy.  They

Strove To Quiet Him,  Because,  After All,  Around Him Some Poor

Wretches Had Been Badly Hurt,  As Well As Poor Ermolai,  Who Lay

There Dead.  The Domestics In The Basement Had Been More Seriously

Wounded And Burned Because The Main Force Of The Explosion Had Gone

Downwards; Which Had Probably Saved The Personages Above.

Rouletabille Had Been Taken With The Other Victims To A Neighboring

Datcha; But As Soon As He Had Shaken Himself Free Of That Terrible

Nightmare He Escaped From The Place.  He Really Regretted That He

Was Not Dead.  These Successive Waves Of Events Had Swamped Him;

And He Accused Himself Alone Of All This Disaster.  With Acutest

Anxiety He Had Inquired About The Condition Of Each Of "His Victims."

Feodor Had Not Been Wounded,  But Now He Was Almost Delirious,  Asking

Every Other Minute As The Hours Crept On For Natacha,  Who Had Not

Reappeared.  That Unhappy Girl Rouletabille Had Steadily Believed

Innocent.  Was She A Culprit?  "Ah,  If She Had Only Chosen To!  If

She Had Had Confidence," He Cried,  Raising Anguished Hands Towards

Heaven,  "None Of All This Need Have Happened.  No One Would Have

Attacked And No One Would Ever Again Attack The Life Of Trebassof.

For I Was Not Wrong In Claiming Before Koupriane That The General's

Life Was In My Hand,  And I Had The Right To Say To Him,  'Life For

Life!  Give Me Matiew's And I Will Give You The General's.' And Now

There Has Been One More Fruitless Attempt To Kill Feodor

Feodorovitch And It Is Natacha's Fault - That I Swear,  Because She

Would Not Listen To Me.  And Is Natacha Implicated In It?  O My God"

Rouletabille Asked This Vain Question Of The Divinity,  For He

Expected No More Help In Answering It On Earth.

Natacha!  Innocent Or Guilty,  Where Was She?  What Was She Doing?

To Know That!  To Know If One Were Right Or Wrong - And If One Were

Wrong,  To Disappear,  To Die!

Thus The Unhappy Rouletabille Muttered As He Walked Along The Bank

Of The Neva,  Not Far From The Ruins Of The Poor Datcha,  Where The

Joyous Friends Of Feodor Feodorovitch Would Have No More Good

Dinners,  Never; So He Soliloquized,  His Head On Fire.

And,  All At Once,  He Recovered Trace Of The Young Girl,  That Trace

Lost Earlier,  A Trace Left At Her Moment Of Flight,  After The

Poisoning And Before The Explosion.  And Had He Not In That A

Terrible Coincidence?  Because The Poison Might Well Have Been Only

In Preparation For The Final Attack,  The Pretext For The Tragic

Arrival Of The Two False Doctors.   Natacha,  Natacha,  The Living

Mystery Surrounded Already By So Many Dead!

Not Far From The Ruins Of The Datcha Rouletabille Soon Made Sure

That A Group Of People Had Been There The Night Before,  Coming

From The Woods Near-By,  And Returning To Them.  He Was Able To Be

Sure Of This Because The Boundaries Of The Datcha Had Been Guarded

By Troops And Police As Soon As The Explosion Took Place,  Under

Orders To Keep Back The Crowd That Hurried To Eliaguine.  He Looked

Attentively At The Grass,  The Ferns,  The Broken And Trampled Twigs.

Certainly A Struggle Had Occurred There.  He Could Distinguish

Clearly In The Soft Earth Of A Narrow Glade The Prints Of Natacha's

Two Little Boots Among All The Large Footprints.

He Continued His Search With His Heart Heavier And Heavier,  He Had

A Presentiment That He Was On The Point Of Discovering A New

Misfortune.  The Footprints Passed Steadily Under The Branches Along

The Side Of The Neva.  From A Bush He Picked A Shred Of White Cloth,

And It Seemed To Him A Veritable Battle Had Taken Place There.

Torn Branches Strewed The Grass.  He Went On.  Very Close To The

Bank He Saw By Examination Of The Soil,  Where There Was No More

Trace Of Tiny Heels And Little Soles,  That The Woman Who Had Been

Found There Was Carried,  And Carried,  Into A Boat,  Of Which The

Place Of Fastening To The Bank Was Still Visible.

"They Have Carried Off Natacha," He Cried In A Surge Of Anguish.

"Bungler That I Am,  That Is My Fault Too - All My Fault - All My

Fault!  They Wished To Avenge Michael Nikolaievitch's Death,  For

Which They Hold Natacha Responsible,  And They Have Kidnapped Her."

His Eyes Searched The Great Arm Of The River For A Boat.  The River

Was Deserted.  Not A Sail,  Nothing Visible On The Dead Waters!

"What Shall I Do?  What Shall I Do?  I Must Save Her."

He Resumed His Course Along The River.  Who Could Give Him Any

Useful Information?  He Drew Near A Little Shelter Occupied By A

Guard.  The Guard Was Speaking To An Officer.  Perhaps He Had

Noticed Something During His Watch That Evening Along The River.

That Branch Of The River Was Almost Always Deserted After The Day

Was Over.  A Boat Plying Between These Shores In The Twilight Would

Certainly Attract Attention.  Rouletabille Showed The Guard The

Paper Koupriane Had Given Him In The Beginning,  And With The Officer

(Who Turned Out To Be A Police Officer) As Interpreter,  He Asked His

Suddenly Rowed Swiftly Out Again And Accosted A Sailing-Yacht Which

Appeared At The Opening Of The Gulf.  It Was One Of Those Small But

Rapid And Elegant Sailing Craft Such As Are Seen In The Lachtka

Regattas.

Lachtka!  "The Bay Of Lachtka!"

The Word Was A Ray Of Light For The Reporter,  Who Recalled Now The

Counsel Gounsovski Had Given Him.  "Watch The Bay Of Lachtka,  And

Tell Me Then If You Still Believe Natacha Is Innocent!"  Gounsovski

Must Have Known When He Said This That Natacha Had Embarked In

Company With The Nihilists,  But Evidently He Was Ignorant That She

Had Gone With Them Under Compulsion,  As Their Prisoner.

Was It Too Late To Save Natacha?  In Any Case,  Before He Died,  He

Would Try In Every Way Possible,  So As At Least To Have Kept Her

As Much As He Could From The Disaster For Which He Held Himself

Responsible.  He Ran To The Barque,  Near The Point.

His Voice Was Firm As He Hailed The Canoe Of The Floating Restaurant

Where,  Thanks To Him,  Koupriane Had Been Thwarted In Impotent Anger.

He Had Himself Taken To Just Below Staria-Derevnia And Jumped Out

At The Spot Where He Saw Little Katharina Disappear A Few Days

Before.  He Landed In The Mud And Climbed On Hands And Knees Up The

Slope Of A Roadway Which Followed The Bank.  This Bank Led To The

Bay Of Lachtka,  Not Far From The Frontier Of Finland.

On Rouletabille's Left Lay The Sea,  The Immense Gulf With Slight

Waves; To His Right Was The Decaying Stretch Of The Marsh.  Stagnant

Water Stretching To The Horizon,  Coarse Grass And Reeds,  An

Extraordinary Tangle Of Water-Plants,  Small Ponds Whose Greenish

Scum Did Not Stir Under The Stiff Breeze,  Water That Was Heavy And

Dirty.  Along This Narrow Strip Of Land Thrust Thus Between The

Marsh,  The Sky And The Sea,  He Hurried,  With Many Stumblings,  His

Eyes Fixed On The Deserted Gulf.  Suddenly He Turned His Head At

A Singular Noise.  At First He Didn't See Anything,  But Heard In

The Distance A Vague Clamoring While A Sort Of Vapor Commenced To

Rise From The Marsh.  And Then He Noticed,  Nearer Him,  The High

Marsh Grasses Undulating.  Finally He Saw A Countless Flock Rising

From The Bed Of The Marshes.  Beasts,  Groups Of Beasts,  Whose Horns

One Saw Like Bayonets,  Jostled Each Other Trying To Keep To The Firm

Land.  Many Of Them Swam And On The Backs Of Some Were Naked Men,

Stark Naked,  With Hair Falling To Their Shoulders And Streaming

Behind Them Like Manes.  They Shouted War-Cries And Waved Their

Clubs.  Rouletabille Stopped Short Before This Prehistoric Invasion.

He Would Never Have Imagined That A Few Miles From The Newsky

Prospect He Could Have Found Himself In The Midst Of Such A

Spectacle.  These Savages Had Not Even A Loin-Cloth.  Where Did They

Come From With Their Herd?  From What Remote Place In The World Or

In Old And Gone History Had They Emerged?  What Was This New

Invasion?  What Prodigious Slaughter-House Awaited These Unruly