Part 42 (2/2)
”I expected your question, monsieur,” he cried; ”and the answer is simple. The mysterious criminals seized the Baroness de Vibray's body and brought it to Dollon's studio to create an alibi, and to cast suspicion on an innocent man. As you know, the stratagem was successful: two hours after the discovery of the crime, the police arrested Mademoiselle Dollon's unfortunate brother!”
With a dramatic gesture Fandor pointed to Elizabeth, who, no longer able to contain her grief, was weeping bitterly.
The audience had risen, moved, troubled, subjugated, in spite of themselves, by the journalist's eloquent and persuasive tones. Even Monsieur Fuselier had quitted his cla.s.sic green leather arm-chair and had approached the two bankers: Madame Bourrat was behind them, and the servant, Jules, with his smooth face and staring eyes.
Fandor continued:
”This is not all, messieurs!... There is still something that must be said, and I beg of you to listen with all your attention, for what the result of my declarations will be, I do not know! It is no longer my reason that speaks, instinct dictates my words! Listen!...”
It was a poignant moment! All the witnesses, the magistrate included, were thrilled with the certainty that the journalist was about to make a sensational revelation.
Taking his time, Jerome Fandor walked slowly, quietly up to Elizabeth who, distraught with grief, was in floods of tears.
”Mademoiselle,” he said, in a clear level voice, which was in strange contrast with his recent persuasive and authoritative tones.
”Mademoiselle, you must tell us everything!... You are here, not in the presence of a judge, and of enemies, but amidst friends who wish you nothing but good.... I understand your affectionate feelings, I know what an unreasoning, but quite natural, attachment you have for your unfortunate brother--but, mademoiselle, it is now imperatively necessary that you should do violence to yourself--you must tell us the truth, the whole truth!”
Interrupting his appeal to Elizabeth, Fandor turned to the magistrate with a smile so enigmatic that his audience could not tell whether he was speaking sincerely or was acting a part.
”I have contended in my articles up to now that Jacques Dollon was dead, dead beyond recall; but when confronted with recent facts my theory seems to fall to the ground.” Fandor turned once more to Elizabeth, resuming his authoritative tone and manner: ”Since the affair of the Depot, the legal authorities have recognised indelible traces of Jacques Dollon's hand in the series of crimes which have been recently perpetrated. Up to the present, I have determinedly denied such a possibility. But, mademoiselle, I put it to you: you have forgotten to tell us something of the very utmost importance, something quite out of the range of ordinary happenings, something phenomenal. Now here is the staggering fact I am faced with! The other day, between two and three in the afternoon, at the Auteuil boarding-house where you are staying, you received a visit from your brother, Jacques Dollon, the supposed robber of the Princess Sonia Danidoff's pearls, the suspected author of the robbery of rue du Quatre Septembre; and, lastly, the fratricide, for what other explanation of the attack on you can be given--an attempted murder beyond question--and I add ...” Fandor could not continue. His eyes were fixed on those of Elizabeth who, at the first words addressed to her by the journalist, had started up, trembling from head to foot.... Their glances met, challenging, each seeking to quell, to subjugate the other.... It seemed to the onlookers that they were witnessing an intense struggle between two very strong natures separated by a deep, a fathomless gulf; that a veil, dark as night, hanging between them had been rent asunder, giving pa.s.sage to an illuminating flash; that this luminous ray carried with it all the revelations and the key to the fantastic mystery!
But to a calm, perspicacious observer of the two beings standing face to face, it would have been clear that Jerome Fandor's real att.i.tude was both suppliant and persuasive, and that Elizabeth Dollon's was one of overwhelming surprise.
Monsieur Fuselier, carried away by the journalist's startling and extraordinary statements, did not perceive this. Suddenly, he saw in Jerome Fandor the denunciator, and in Elizabeth Dollon, the accomplice unmasked. Nevertheless, he said quietly:
”Monsieur Fandor, you have just uttered words of such gravity that you are bound to confirm them by indisputable evidence. Do you mean to persist on these lines?”
Fandor looked away from the stupefied Elizabeth and her questioning glance: he answered the magistrate at once.
”The proof of what I advance, you will find by searching Mademoiselle Dollon's room.... I would rather not say more than that....”
”Allow me to state, monsieur, that I cannot arrange for such an investigation until to-morrow morning!”
Then, addressing the astounded Madame Bourrat, the two bankers, and the manservant, Jules.
”Madame, messieurs, will you be kind enough to withdraw? Madame, I advise you, under pain of the most serious consequences, not to allow anyone whatever to enter your premises, nor go into Mademoiselle Dollon's room, before this matter has been fully sifted by the legal authorities. Be good enough to wait in the pa.s.sage--all of you!”
Having witnessed their exit, the magistrate walked up to Fandor, and looking him straight in the eyes said:
”Well!... Out with it!”
”Well,” replied the journalist, ”if you inst.i.tute a search in the place I have indicated, you will find, in the chest of drawers, under a pile of Mademoiselle Dollon's personal linen a piece of soap wrapped up in a cambric handkerchief. Take this soap to Monsieur Bertillon's department, and after the scientific tests have been applied to it, you will be able to say that it bears distinct impressions of Dollon's hand!”
”Dollon's?”
The magistrate gasped.
Elizabeth Dollon had fallen back into the arm-chair, from which she had risen all trembling. Her tears had ceased. She stared at the two men with wide open, terrified eyes. All the time, the clerk in spectacles wrote steadily on at his table, noting down the details of the scenes he was witnessing.
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