Part 20 (1/2)
Rouletabille chuckled.
”Yes, yes, yes,” grumbled the Chief of Police. ”Someone always laughs when his name is mentioned.”
Koupriane had turned red. He rose, opened the door, gave a long direction in Russian, and returned to his chair.
”Now,” said he, ”go ahead and tell me all the details of the poison and the grapes the marshal of the court brought. I'm listening.”
Rouletabille told him very briefly and without drawing any deductions all that we already know. He ended his account as a man dressed in a maroon coat with false astrakhan was introduced. It was the same man Rouletabille had met in General Treba.s.sof's drawing-room and who spoke French. Two gendarmes were behind him. The door had been closed. Koupriane turned toward the man in the coat.
”Touman,” he said, ”I want to talk to you. You are a traitor, and I have proof. You can confess to me, and I will give you a thousand roubles and you can take yourself off to be hanged somewhere else.”
The man's eyes shrank, but he recovered himself quickly. He replied in Russian.
”Speak French. I order it,” commanded Koupriane.
”I answer, Your Excellency,” said Touman firmly, ”that I don't know what Your Excellency means.”
”I mean that you have helped a man get into the Treba.s.sof villa by night when you were on guard under the window of the little sitting-room. You see that there is no use deceiving us any longer. I play with you frankly, good play, good money. The name of that man, and you have a thousand roubles.”
”I am ready to swear on the ikon of...”
”Don't perjure yourself.”
”I have always loyally served...”
”The name of that man.”
”I still don't know yet what Your Excellency means.”
”Oh, you understand me,” replied Koupriane, who visibly held in an anger that threatened to break forth any moment. ”A man got into the house while you were watching...”
”I never saw anything. After all, it is possible. There were some very dark nights. I went back and forth.”
”You are not a fool. The name of that man.”
”I a.s.sure you, Excellency...”
”Strip him.”
”What are you going to do?” cried Rouletabille.
But already the two guards had thrown themselves on Touman and had drawn off his coat and s.h.i.+rt. The man was bare to the waist.
”What are you going to do? What are you going to do?”
”Leave them alone,” said Koupriane, roughly pus.h.i.+ng Rouletabille back.
Seizing a whip which hung at the waist of the guards he struck Touman a blow across the shoulders that drew blood. Touman, mad with the outrage and the pain, shouted, ”Yes, it is true! I brag of it!”
Koupriane did not restrain his rage. He showered the unhappy man with blows, having thrown Rouletabille to the end of the room when he tried to interfere. And while he proceeded with the punishment the Chief of Police hurled at the agent who had betrayed him an accompaniment of fearful threats, promising him that before he was hanged he should rot in the bottom-most dungeon of Peter and Paul, in the slimy pits lying under the Neva. Touman, between the two guards who held him, and who sometimes received blows on the rebound that were not intended for them, never uttered a complaint. Outside the invectives of Koupriane there was heard only the swish of the cords and the cries of Rouletabille, who continued to protest that it was abominable, and called the Chief of Police a savage. Finally the savage stopped. Gouts of blood had spattered all about.