Part 45 (1/2)
”Here are ink and paper, messieurs!” she said.
Then the pretended police inspector made a statement that startled the concealed Fandor.
”Madame, we have no time, nor are we able to make a minute investigation now. Besides, with one exception, there does not seem to be anything suspicious about the room; but here is a trunk which contains papers of great importance. We are going to take it to the police station.”
”As you please,” replied Madame Bourrat. ”I ask only one thing and that is to be left in peace. I do not want to hear anything more about this abominable affair!”
A rapid turn of the key given to each of the locks and Fandor knew that he was now a prisoner! Brave as he was, he felt a rush of blood to his heart and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
”Dash it all! I am in an awful position! Impossible to move! If these brutes suspected they had me tight in here they would pitch me into the river as sure as Fate! Then good-bye to _La Capitale_!”
Then, before Fandor's mental vision rose a sweet consoling figure, the figure of the girl for whom he was braving danger, for love of whom--he certainly did love her--he had placed himself in such a serious position.... Then all that was optimistic in his nature--and that was much--rose to the surface, and declared the dilemma was not as serious as it seemed.... How could the bandits know of his presence in the trunk? They never would think Jerome Fandor so stupid as to shut himself up in the trap!
”Jules and I might shake hands as equals in folly!” concluded Fandor....
Just then the trunk began to move. They were trying to lift it. Whilst trying to preserve an unstable equilibrium, he said to himself in a satisfied way:
”And just to think now that they have not rummaged in the chest of drawers, nor have they seized the tell-tale piece of soap!... It's true that Fuselier alone knows of its being there--I was careful not to tell anyone else.... But, where the deuce are they going? It's the stairs, of course! It might be a rough precipice by the shaking up they're giving me!”
XIX
CRIMINAL OR VICTIM?
At the bottom of his trunk Jerome Fandor was foaming with rage, furious at being caught in the trap and uneasy as to how this adventure would end.
Whilst he was realising that his unknown porters were carrying their heavy weight with difficulty to the pavement of rue Raffet, he made up his mind to a definite course of action: regardless of consequences, he was going to shout, move about, make a regular disturbance, rouse the attention of the pa.s.sers-by--if there happened to be any--but, at all costs, he meant to get out of the trap!... He saw a ray of hope: Madame Bourrat had accompanied her visitors as far as the gate. In presence of such a witness, they would, at least, hesitate to do him serious bodily harm when he made his presence unmistakably known, furious though they would be. He would take every advantage of the situation....
Fandor was about to act: a second more and he would have started, when he heard them speaking. He kept quiet.
”We must have a taxi, or at the very least a cab to transport this big trunk. Do you know where one is likely to be found?”
”I doubt if one will be pa.s.sing at this hour, monsieur. We retire early in these parts; but, if you like, Jules can go to the station.”
”That's settled. Let him go as fast as he can!”
”Well, that is rea.s.suring,” thought Fandor. ”If these fine fellows take a cab, it is not with the intention of chucking my cage and me into the river--and that is what I feared most. They may be going to leave me in a cloak-room till called for; or they may pack us off as luggage to some destination unknown! ... Oh, well, I shall only be a traveller without a ticket and I shall be sure to find some way out of the difficulty! And then, what stuff for an article I shall have when I get back to _La Capitale_!... What must they be thinking at the offices! It's forty-eight hours since I put foot in them! Never mind! When they know!...”
Fandor was listening with all his ears; but the bandits had little to say; and, when they did speak, their voices were plainly disguised. Was it as a general precaution, or was it on account of Madame Bourrat?...
But, unless they were known to her, why the necessity? If, however, she knew one or more of them personally, why, they must have disguised their faces and figures as well as their voices!... If only he could have a peep at them!
The sound of wheels made him suppose that Jules had succeeded in getting a cab at the Auteuil station. Then the trot-trot-trot of a horse became audible: a few moments later a cab drew up at the edge of the pavement.
A hoa.r.s.e voice was heard.
”It's not a long journey, I hope!” said the hoa.r.s.e, grumbling voice of the cabman.
”To Police Headquarters,” replied the pretended police inspector.
”We shall see about that!” thought Fandor. ”That address is to throw dust in Madame Bourrat's eyes. They will change their destination on the way. I bet on it!...”