Part 56 (1/2)
But Gabrielle took no notice of her interruptions.
”The way she set about it,” she went on, ”was, to say the least, skilful and heartless. Showing favour to each, unknown to the other, she told them that Nicholson held her enthralled by means of a secret, and that she was unable to break from him in consequence. An insinuating proposal she made was likely to lead to but one result--a promise from each that they would take Nicholson's life.”
”Wretch?” hissed the unhappy woman, under her breath.
”She arranged the details of the a.s.sa.s.sination with both, instructing each in the manner by which the Englishman was to be killed. Both were in ignorance of each other's intention, for she gave them strict injunctions to preserve the secret as they valued their lives. These facts I afterwards learnt, but I must tell you now how I became aware of the plot. Glanville had gone to London for a week, and I also had been away in the country for a few days. It was about half-past nine at night when I arrived at the St. Lazare Station, and while pa.s.sing down the Boulevard Haussmann it suddenly occurred to me that Nicholson, being a very intimate friend of Glanville's, would most probably be aware whether he had returned from England. I scarcely know what prompted me, but I halted before the house and ascended the stairs. The concierge was absent, and the staircase was in darkness, he having omitted to light the gas.”
”Of course, you knew Nicholson,” observed the artist. ”I remember it was I who introduced you.”
”Yes; I had frequently met him with Glanville, and had been to his rooms before. Without much difficulty I found the door. It was ajar, and I pushed it open noiselessly. As I did so I heard loud excited talking, and recognised one of the voices as that of Valerie. The discovery that she had called upon this man excited my curiosity, and I resolved to watch them. They were in a room upon the left of the pa.s.sage, the door of which was almost closed. Pa.s.sing with scarcely a sound, I entered the sitting-room, and glanced round for some place of concealment.
There were several, but the one I decided upon was behind the heavy crimson curtains that were drawn across the window overlooking the boulevard. Scarcely had I retired into my hiding-place when I heard the Englishman walk to the outer door and close it. Then he returned to the room in a frenzy of pa.s.sion, invoking terrible curses upon her. They spoke in English, which at that time I did not understand; yet it was evident she had done something to arouse his hatred, for a few moments later she screamed for mercy, and rushed headlong into the room where I was. He followed at her heels, and, clutching her by the throat, flung her backwards upon the sofa. His face was livid with pa.s.sion, and for several minutes they struggled together. Then, almost before I was aware of her intention, I heard a loud report. A puff of smoke curled between them as he relaxed his hold and grasped convulsively at his breast. `_Dieu_! Valerie! You--you've shot--me!' were the only words that he uttered, for he reeled and fell backwards, striking his head violently upon the corner of the table.”
”Did she really murder him?” asked the artist breathlessly.
”Yes; the revolver with which, as I afterwards found, she had shot him through the heart, was still smoking in her hand. Flinging it from her to the opposite end of the room, she bent over the body of her lover and extracted the keys from his pocket. Crossing to the mock bookcase, she pressed a b.u.t.ton and opened it, revealing the ponderous iron doors of the safe. Without hesitation she quickly applied the keys, and the handles yielded. In a few moments she had cleared the two iron drawers of the white paper packets they contained. Satisfying herself that she had not overlooked anything of value, she quickly closed the safe and transferred the plunder to the pockets of her dress and jacket.”
”_Ciel_! She _does_ know!” escaped Valerie's lips involuntarily, as she stood trembling and leaning heavily upon the chair, her distended eyes glaring at the trio before her with a terrible fire of hatred.
”But what of Nicholson?” asked Hugh. ”Was he dead?”
”Quite. Death had been almost instantaneous,” Gabrielle replied, speaking in the same distinct, mechanical tones in which she had recounted the strange incidents. ”When the murderess had concluded her search for the gems, she turned her attention to the body. First, she bent and satisfied herself that there was no movement of the heart, then, by dint of exerting every muscle, she managed to drag the body up and seat it in the chair at the writing-table. The limbs being not yet rigid, it was an easy task to place it in a natural position, with the arms leaning upon the table and head bending over, as if reading the papers, which she spread out upon the blotting-pad. After she had rearranged the room, she glanced at the watch she wore in a bangle upon her wrist. Lighting the reading-lamp and turning out the gas, she left the room with only a dim, subdued light. She had just completed this when she started at the click of a latchkey in the outer door, and concealed herself quickly behind a high screen which stood near the fireplace. Barely had she time to do this before Egerton entered, and, creeping up cautiously behind the dead man's chair, struck him a terrible, murderous blow in the back with a long sharp knife he carried in his hand. The force he used caused the body to overbalance and roll, with the chair, upon the floor. With scarcely a second look at the result of his horrible work, he turned and stole out as noiselessly as he had entered. In a few minutes Valerie, having convinced herself of his departure, emerged from her hiding-place, and again reseated the corpse in its chair, at the same time removing the blood from the clothes with a cloth she obtained from a drawer. For a few minutes she was engaged in staunching the blood, and prevented it from flowing over his coat after she had withdrawn the knife from the wound. Subsequently she went into the adjoining apartment, and was absent about ten minutes.
When she re-entered, Glanville accompanied her. He, too, was also armed with a knife, the blade of which gleamed in the ray of lamplight which fell upon it. The murderess crept stealthily behind the corpse and, bending over, placed her arms around its neck, as if caressing it, while at that moment, in obedience to a motion from her, the student rushed up and struck it a violent blow with the knife full in the chest.
Valerie released her hold and again the body lolled upon the floor.
The woman s.n.a.t.c.hed up her hat, and, without casting a glance at the murdered man or uttering a word, both went out and closed the door after them. Five minutes later I followed, hardly daring to breathe until I had reached the boulevard and mingled with the people.”
”Good G.o.d! Is it really true?” demanded Egerton excitedly.
”True? Bah! Surely you are not such an imbecile as to believe the foul lies of that woman?” shouted Hugh's wife. ”She has no proof.”
”I'll convince you before I have finished,” answered Gabrielle. ”The strangest phase of the affair yet remains to be narrated--”
”_Diable_!” cried the trembling woman pa.s.sionately. ”Ah! you would crush me, would you not?” she said, with a hollow laugh. ”You--you would hurry me off to pay the penalty without a moment's pity. But I shall be out of your reach. You see well enough that you can't succeed; bah! you are vanquished.”
Gabrielle took no heed of this sudden outburst of fury. Drawing from her pocket a crumpled newspaper, she said--
”This is a copy of the _Gaulois_, containing a full report of the discovery of the body, and if you read it you will find the three distinct wounds described as I have explained.”
”Then, after all, I am not a murderer?” cried the artist, suddenly recognising how he had been tricked by the woman who had so artfully cast her toils about him and bound him to do her bidding.
”No; you are innocent.”
”Ah, Gabrielle,” he cried earnestly, ”how shall I ever thank you enough for clearing up the awful mystery and removing the guilty burden from my conscience?”
”Before you thank me, hear the end,” she said calmly. ”I told you how I married Glanville. Well, at that time I believed him to be a student of whose conviction I had unfortunately been the cause. Yet after his escape he wrote to me, making an appointment for me to meet him in London, and admitting that Glanville was only a name he had a.s.sumed in order that his friends should not discover that he had entered Bohemia.
It was his hobby to study Art--”
”Who was he, then?” inquired Hugh, interrupting.