Part 41 (1/2)
It was about four in the afternoon, and he had just entered the pa.s.sage leading to the offices so familiar to him, when he met Elizabeth. Behind her came several persons whom he recognised: among them were the Barbey-Nanteuil partners, Madame Bourrat, and the servant, Jules. They were together and were talking. The moment she saw him, Elizabeth went up to him.
”Ah, monsieur!” she cried, with a reproachful look. ”We had given up all hope of seeing you.... Just imagine, the magistrate has finished his enquiry already! Twice he asked if you had come!”
Fandor seemed surprised.
”The summons was for four this afternoon, was it not?” he asked, taking from his pocket the summoning letter. A glance showed that he was not mistaken: he gave Elizabeth the letter to read. She smiled.
”You were summoned for four o'clock, I see; but we had to appear earlier: I was examined as soon as I arrived, and I was summoned to appear at half-past two.”
Fandor was annoyed with himself: he might have guessed it! He was vexed because he had not been on the watch in the pa.s.sage whilst this examination was proceeding. He was moving towards Monsieur Fuselier's room, the magistrate in charge of the Auteuil affair, and he must have looked his vexation, for Elizabeth said:
”I am a little to blame, perhaps, that you had not due notice, but what could I do! Yesterday evening when you telephoned to the convent to ask for news of me, I was just going to tell you at what time I was summoned, but when I went to the telephone....”
”What's this you are telling me?” asked Fandor, staring hard at Elizabeth. ”I never telephoned to you yesterday evening. Who told you I had been asking for you on the telephone?”
”n.o.body said so; but I supposed it was you! Who else would be so kindly interested in my doings?”
Fandor made no reply to this. Here was the telephone mystery again--an alarming mystery. Elizabeth had not given her address to anyone: Fandor had been careful not to give it to a soul.... Clearly, this poor girl, even in the heart of this peaceful convent, was not secure from some unknown, outside interference; and Fandor, optimist though he was, could not help shuddering at the thought of these mysterious adversaries, implacable and formidable, who might work harm to this unfortunate girl, whose devoted protector he now was.... Besides ... did he not feel for Jacques Dollon's pretty sister something sweeter and more tender than pure sympathy?... Whenever he was near her, did he not experience a thrill of emotion? Fandor did not a.n.a.lyse his feelings, but they influenced him unconsciously.
He turned to Elizabeth.
”Since you cannot remain any longer at the convent, where do you think of staying?”
”Well, monsieur, I shall go back to the convent this evening, though it is painful to me--very, very painful--to be obliged to accept their icy hospitality ... as for to-morrow!”
Fandor was about to make a suggestion, when the door of Monsieur Fuselier's room opened half-way. The magistrate's clerk appeared, and, glancing round the pa.s.sage over his spectacles, called, in a dull tone:
”Monsieur Jerome Fandor!”
”Here!” replied our journalist. ”I am coming!”
Then, taking a hasty farewell of Elizabeth as he went towards the magistrate's room, he whispered:
”Wait for me, mademoiselle; and, for the love of Heaven, remember this--whatever I may say, whatever happens, whether we are alone, together, or in the presence of others, whether it be in a few minutes, or later on, do not be astonished at what may befall you, even though it be my fault--be absolutely convinced of this--whatever I may do will be for your good--more than that I must not say!”
Elizabeth had not a word to say, but his words were humming and buzzing in her ears when Fandor was in the magistrate's room.
With a cordial handshake, Monsieur Fuselier began by congratulating him on having saved Elizabeth Dollon's life.
”Ah,” said he, smiling, ”you journalists have all the luck; and, between yourselves, I envy you a little, for your lucky star has led you to the discovery of a drama, and has enabled you to prevent a fatal ending to it. Now, do you not think, as I do, that this Auteuil affair is not a case of suicide, but of attempted a.s.sa.s.sination?”
”There is no doubt about it,” replied Fandor quietly.
The magistrate drew himself up with a satisfied air.
”That is also my opinion--has been so from the start.”
The clerk now interrupted the two men, who were talking as friends rather than as magistrate and witness, asking, in nasal tone:
”Does His Honour wish to take the evidence of Monsieur Jerome Fandor?”