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

Spoken Of A Little While Before,  "The Young Girls Who Read" And,

Their Reading Done,  Set Themselves To Accomplish Some Terrible

Thing,  Some Thing Because Of Which,  From Time To Time,  They Place

Stiff Ropes Around The Necks Of These Young Females.

Finally,  Koupriane's Frenzy Wore Itself Out And He Made A Sign.

The Men Filed Out In Dismal Silence.  Two Of Them Remained To

Guard Natacha.  From Outside Came The Sounds Of A Carriage From

Sestroriesk Ready To Convey The Girl To The Dungeons Of Sts. Peter

And Paul.  A Final Gesture From The Prefect Of Police And The

Rough Bands Of The Two Guards Seized The Prisoner's Frail Wrists.

They Hustled Her Along,  Thrust Her Outside,  Jamming Her Against

The Doorway,  Venting Thus Their Anger At The Reproaches Of Their

Chief.  A Few Seconds Later The Carriage Departed,  Not To Stop

Until The Fortress Was Reached With The Trickling Tombs Under The

Bed Of The River Where Young Girls About To Die Are Confined - Who

Have Read Too Much,  Without Entirely Understanding,  As Monsieur

Kropotkine Says.

Koupriane Prepared To Leave In Turn.  Rouletabille Stopped Him.

"Excellency,  I Wish You To Tell Me Why You Have Shown Such Anger

To Your Men Just Now."

"They Are Brute Beasts," Cried The Chief Of Police,  Quite Beside

Himself Again.  "They Have Made Me Miss The Biggest Catch Of My

Life.  They Threw Themselves On The Group Two Minutes Too Early.

Some Of Them Fired A Gun That They Took For The Signal And That

Served To Warn The Nihilists.  But I Will Let Them All Rot In Prison

Until I Learn Which One Fired That Shot."

"You Needn't Look Far For That," Said Rouletabille.  "I Did It."

"You!  Then You Must Have Gone Outside The Touba?"

"Yes,  In Order To Warn Them.  But Still I Was A Little Late,  Since

You Did Take Natacha."

Koupriane's Eyes Blazed.

"You Are Their Accomplice In All This," He Hurled At The Reporter,

"And I Am Going To The Tsar For Permission To Arrest You."

"Hurry,  Then,  Excellency," Replied The Reporter Coldly,  "Because

The Nihilists,  Who Also Think They Have A Little Account To Settle

With Me,  May Reach Me Before You."

And He Saluted.

At The Hotel A Note From Gounsovski: "Don't Forget This Time To Come

To-Morrow To Have Luncheon With Me.  Warmest Regards From Madame

Gounsovski."  Then A Horrible,  Sleepless Night,  Shaken With Echoes

Of Explosions And The Clamor Of The Wounded; And The Solemn Shade

Of Pere Alexis,  Stretching Out Toward Rouletabille A Phial Of Poison

And Saying,  "Either Natacha Or You!"  Then,  Rising Among The Shades

The Bloody Form Of Michael Nikolaievitch The Innocent!

In The Morning A Note From The Marshal Of The Court.

Monsieur Le Marechal Had No Particular Good News,  Evidently,  For In

Terms Quite Without Enthusiasm He Invited The Young Man To Luncheon

For That Same Day,  Rather Early,  At Midday,  As He Wished To See Him

Once More Before He Left For France.  "I See," Said Rouletabille To

Himself; "Monsieur Le Marechal Pronounces My Expulsion From The

Country "- And He Forgot Once More The Gounsovski Luncheon.  The

Meeting-Place Named Was The Great Restaurant Called The Bear.

Rouletabille Entered It Promptly At Noon.  He Asked The Schwitzar If

The Grand Marshal Of The Court Had Arrived,  And Was Told No One Had

Seen Him Yet.  They Conducted Him To The Huge Main Hall,  Where,

However,  There Was Only One Person.  This Man,  Standing Before The

Table Spread With Zakouskis,  Was Stuffing Himself.  At The Sound Of

Rouletabille's Step On The Floor This Sole Famished Patron Turned

And Lifted His Hands To Heaven As He Recognized The Reporter.  The

Latter Would Have Given All The Roubles In His Pocket To Have Avoided

The Recognition.  But He Was Already Face To Face With The Advocate

So Celebrated For His Table-Feats,  The Amiable Athanase Georgevitch,

His Head Swathed In Bandages And Dressings From The Midst Of Which

One Could Perceive Distinctly Only The Eyes And,  Above All,  The

Mouth.

"How Goes It,  Little Friend?"

"How Are You?"

"Oh,  I!  There Is Nothing The Matter.  In A Week We Shall Have

Forgotten It."

"What A Terrible Affair," Said The Reporter,  "I Certainly Believed

We Were All Dead Men."

"No,  No.  It Was Nothing.  Nitchevo!"

"And Poor Thaddeus Tchitchnikoff With His Two Poor Legs Broken!"

"Eh!  Nitchevo!  He Has Plenty Of Good Solid Splints That Will Make

Him Two Good Legs Again.  Nitchevo!  Don't You Think Anything More

About That!  It Is Nothing.  You Have Come Here To Dine?  A Very

Celebrated House This.  Caracho!"  He Busied Himself To Do The

Honors.  One Would Have Said The Restaurant Belonged To Him.  He

Boasted Of Its Architecture And The Cuisine "A La Francaise."

"Do You Know," He Inquired Confidently,  "A Finer Restaurant Room

Anywhere In The World?"

In Fact,  It Seemed To Rouletabille As He Looked Up Into The High

Glass Arch That He Was In A Railway Station Decorated For Some

Illustrious Traveler,  For There Were Flowers And Plants Everywhere.

But The Visitor Whom The Ball Awaited Was The Russian Eater,  The

Ogre Who Never Failed To Come To Eat At The Bear.  Pointing Out The

Lines Of Tables Shining With Their White Cloths And Bright Silver,

Athanase Georgevitch,  With His Mouth Full,  Said:

"Ah,  My Dear Little French Monsieur,  You Should See It At

Supper-Time,  With The Women,  And The Jewels,  And The Music.  There

Is Nothing In France That Can Give You Any Idea Of It,  Nothing!  The

Gayety - The Champagne - And The Jewels,  Monsieur,  Worth Millions

And Millions Of Roubles!  Our Women Wear Them All - Everything They

Have.  They Are Decked Like Sacred Shrines!  All The Family Jewels

- From The Very Bottom Of The Caskets!   It Is Magnificent,

Thoroughly Russian - Muscovite!  What Am I Saying?  It Is Asiatic.

Monsieur,  In The Evening,  At A Fete,  We Are Asiatic.  Let Me Tell

You Something On The Quiet.  You Notice That This Enormous Dining

Ail Is Surrounded By Those Windowed Balconies.  Each Of Those

Windows Belongs To A Separate Private Room.  Well,  You See That

Window There?  - Yes,  There - That Is The Room Of A Grand Duke - Yes,

He's The One I Mean - A Very Gay Grand Duke.  Do You Know,  One

Evening When There Was A Great Crowd Here - Families,  Monsieur,

Family Parties,  High-Born Families - The Window Of That Particular

Balcony Was Thrown Open,  And A Woman Stark Naked,  As Naked As My

Hand,  Monsieur,  Was Dropped Into The Dining-Hall And Ran Across It

Full-Speed.  It Was A Wager,  Monsieur,  A Wager Of The Jolly Grand

Duke's,  And The Demoiselle Won It.  But What A Scandal!  Ah,  Don't

Speak Of It; That Would Be Very Bad Form.  But - Sufficiently

Asiatic,  Eh?  Truly Asiatic.  And - Something Much More Unfortunate

- You See That Table?  It Happened The Russian New Year Eve,  At

Supper.  All The Beauty,  The Whole Capital,  Was Here.  Just At

Midnight The Orchestra Struck Up The Bodje Tsara Krani* To

Inaugurate The Joyful Russian New Year,  And Everybody Stood Up,

According To Custom,  And Listened In Silence,  As Loyal Subjects

Should.  Well,  At That Table,  Accompanying His Family,  There Was A

Young Student,  A Fine Fellow,  Very Correct,  And In Uniform.  This

Unhappy Young Student,  Who Had Risen Like Everybody Else,  To Listen

To The Bodje Tsara Krani,  Inadvertently Placed His Knee On A Chair.

Truly That Is Not A Correct Attitude,  Monsieur,  But Really It Was

No Reason For Killing Him,  Was It Now?  Certainly Not. Well,  A Brute

In Uniform,  An Officer Quite Immaculately Gotten-Up,  Drew A Revolver

From His Pocket And Discharged It At The Student Point-Blank.  You

Can Imagine The Scandal,  For The Student Was Dead!  There Were Paris

Journalists There,  Besides,  Who Had Never Been There Before,  You See!

Monsieur Gaston Leroux Was At That Very Table.  What A Scandal!

They Had A Regular Battle.  They Broke Carafes Over The Head Of The

Assassin - For He Was Neither More Nor Less Than An Assassin,  A

Drinker Of Blood - An Asiatic.  They Picked Up The Assassin,  Who Was

Bleeding All Over,  And Carried Him Off To Look After Him.  As To The

Dead Man,  He Lay Stretched Out There Under A Table-Cloth,  Waiting

For The Police - And Those At The Tables Went On With Their Drinking.

Isn't That Asiatic Enough For You?  Here,  A Naked Woman; There,  A

Corpse!   And The Jewels - And The Champagne!  What Do You Say To

That?"

___________________________________________________________________

  *The Russian National Anthem.

___________________________________________________________________

"His Excellency The Grand Marshal Of The Court Is Waiting For You,

Monsieur."

Rouletabille Shook Hands With Athanase Georgevitch,  Who Returned To

His Zakouskis,  And Followed The Interpreter To The Door Of One Of

The Private Rooms.  The High Dignitary Was There.  With A Charm In

His Politeness Of Which The High-Born Russian Possesses The Secret

Over Almost Everybody Else In The World,  The Marshal Intimated To

Rouletabille That He Had Incurred Imperial Displeasure.

"You Have Been Denounced By Koupriane,  Who Holds You Responsible

For The Checks He Has Suffered In This Affair."

"Monsieur Koupriane Is Right," Replied Rouletabille,  "And His

Majesty Should Believe Him,  Since It Is The Truth.  But Don't Fear

Anything From Me,  Monsieur Le Grand Marechal,  For I Shall Not

Inconvenience Monsieur Koupriane Any Further,  Nor Anybody Else.  I

Shall Disappear."

"I Believe Koupriane Is Already Directed To Vise Your Passport."

"He Is Very Good,  And He Does Himself Much Harm."

"All That Is A Little Your Fault,  Monsieur Rouletabille.  We

Believed We Could Consider You As A Friend,  And You Have Never

Failed,  It Appears,  On Each Occasion To Give Your Help To Our

Enemies.

"Who Says That?"

"Koupriane.  Oh,  It Is Necessary To Be One With Us.  And You Are

Not One With Us.  And If You Are Not For Us You Are Against Us.

You Understand That,  I Think.  That Is The Way It Has To Be.  The

Terrorists Have Returned To The Methods Of The Nihilists,  Who

Succeeded Altogether Too Well Against Alexander Ii.  When I Tell

You That They Succeeded In Placing Their Messages Even In The

Imperial Palace..."