 CHAPTER 30 AN ASSIGNATION The final curtain had fallen upon the first performance of the new drama at the Grand Tritaux. The night had been one long triumph for Valgrand, and although it was very late, the Baron de Vibre, who plumed herself on being the great tragedian's dearest friend, had made her way behind the scenes to lavish praise and congratulations on him, and have a little triumph of her own in presenting her friends to the hero of the hour. In vain had Charleau, the old dresser, tried to prevent her invasion of his master's dressing room. He was not proof against her perseverance, and ere long she had swept into the room with the proud smile of a general entering a conquered town. The comp de baral, a tall young man with a single eyeglass, followed close in her wake. Will you please announce us, he said to the dresser. Charleau hesitated a moment in surprise, then broke into valuable explanations. Monsieur Valgrand is not here yet. What, didn't you know? Why, at the end of the performance, the minister of public instruction sent for him to congratulate him. That's a tremendous honor, and it's the second time it has been paid to Monsieur Valgrand. Meanwhile, the other two ladies in the party were roaming about the dressing room. Madame Simone Hobor, wife of a colonel of the marines, who had just covered himself with distinction in the Congo, and the contests Marceline de Baral. How thrilling an actor's dressing room is, exclaimed Madame Hobor, inspecting everything in the room through her glass. Just look at these darling little brushes, I suppose he uses those in making up, and oh my dear, there are actually three kinds of rouge. The contest de Baral was fascinated by the photographs adorning the walls. Through the admirable Valgrand from a comrade, she read in awestruck tones. Come and look, dear, it is signed by Sarah Bernhardt, and listen to this one. At Buenos Aires, at Melbourne and New York, wherever I am, I hear the praises of my friend Valgrand. Something like a globetrotter, said Madame Hobor. I expect he belongs to the comédie français. Colonel Hobor interrupted, calling to his wife. Simone, come and listen to what our friend de Baral is telling me. It is really very curious. The young woman approached, and the comp began again for her benefit. You have come back too recently from the Congo to be up to date with all our Paris happenings. And so you will not have noticed this little touch. But in the part that he created tonight, Valgrand made himself up exactly like Gern, the man who murdered Lord Beltham. Gern? said Madame Hobor, to whom the name did not convey much. Oh yes, I think I read about that. The murderer escaped, didn't he? Well, they took a long time to find him, the comp de Baral replied. As usual, the police were giving up all hope of finding him when one day, or rather one night, they did find him and arrested him. And where do you suppose that was? Why with Lady Beltham? The contest really, in her own house at Nuit. Impossible, cried Simone Hobor. Poor woman, what an awful shock for her. Lady Beltham is a brave, dignified and truly charitable woman, said the contest de Baral. She simply worshipped her husband, and yet she has pleaded warmly for mercy for the murderer, though she did not succeed in getting it. What a dreadful thing, said Simone Hobor perfunctorily. Her attention was wandering to all the other attractions in this attractive room. A pile of letters was lying on a writing table, and the reckless young woman began to look at the envelopes. Just look at this pile of letters, she cried. How funny. Every one of them in a woman's hand. I suppose Vagran gets all sorts of offers. Colonel Hobor went on talking to the comp de Baral in a corner of the room. I am enormously interested in what you tell me. What happened then? Well, this wretched guern was recognized by the police as he was leaving Lady Beltham's, and was arrested and put in prison. The trial came on at the court of a size about six weeks ago. All Paris went to it, of course, including myself. This man guern is a brute, but a strange brute, rather difficult to define. He swore that he had killed Lord Beltham after a quarrel, practically for the sake of robbing him, but I have a strong impression that he was lying. But why else should he have committed the murder? The comp de Baral shrugged his shoulders. Nobody knows, he said, politics perhaps, nihilism, or perhaps again, love. There was one fact or coincidence worth noting. When Lady Beltham came home from the transval after the war during which, by the way, she did splendid work among the sick and wounded. She sailed by the same boat that was taking guern to England. Guern was also a bit of a popular hero just then. He had volunteered at the beginning of the war and came back with a sergeant's stripes and a medal for distinguished conduct. Can guern and Lady Beltham have met and got to know each other? It is certain that the lady's behavior during the trial lent itself to comment, if not exactly to scandal. She had odd collapses in the presence of the murderer, collapses which were accounted for in very, various ways. Some people said that she was half out of her mind with grief at the loss of her husband. Others said that if she was mad, it was over someone, over this vulgar criminal, martyr or accomplice perhaps. They even went so far as to allege that Lady Beltham had an intrigue with guern. Come, come, the colonel protested, a great lady like Lady Beltham, so religious and so austere, absurd. People say all sorts of things, said the Comte de Baral vaguely. He turned to another subject. Anyhow, the case caused a tremendous sensation. Guern's condemnation to death was very popular, and the case was so typically Parisian that our friend Valgrand, knowing that he was going to create the part of the murderer in this tragedy tonight, followed every phase of the Guern trial closely, studied the man in detail, and literally identified himself with him in this character. It was a shrewd idea. You notice the sensation when he came on the stage. Yes, I did, said the colonel. I wondered what the exclamations from all over the house meant. Try to find a portrait of Guern in some one of the illustrated papers, said the Comte, and compare it with, ha, I think this is Valgrand coming. The Baron de Vibre had tired of her conversation with the old dresser, Charleau, and had left him to take up her stand outside the dressing room, where she greeted with nods and smiles the other actors and actresses as they hurried by on their way home and listened to the sounds at the end of the passage. Presently a voice became distinguishable, the voice of Valgrand singing a refrain from a musical comedy. The Baron de Vibre hurried to meet him, and both hands outstretched and led him into his dressing room. Let me present Monsieur Valgrand, she exclaimed, and then presented the two young women to the bowing actor. Comtesse Marceline de Baral, Madame Hobor. Pardon me, ladies, for keeping you waiting, the actor said. I was deep in conversation with the minister. He was so charming, so kind. He turned to the Baron de Vibre. He did me the honor to offer me a cigarette, a relic, Charleau. Charleau, you must put this cigarette in a little box where all my treasures are. It is very full already, Monsieur Valgrand, said Charleau deprecatingly. We must not keep you long, the Baron de Vibre murmured. You must be very tired. Valgrand passed a weary hand across his brow, positively exhausted. Then he raised his head and looked at the company. What did you think of me? A chorus of eulogy sprang from every lip. Splendid, wonderful, the very perfection of art. No, but really, protested Valgrand, swelling with satisfied vanity. Tell me candidly, was it really good? You really were wonderful. Could not have been better, the Baron de Vibre exclaimed enthusiastically. And the crowd of worshipers endorsed every word the actor was convinced that their praise was quite sincere. How I have worked, he exclaimed. Do you know, when rehearsals began, ask Charleau if this isn't true. The peace simply didn't exist. Simply didn't exist, Charleau corroborated him like an echo. Didn't exist, Valgrand repeated. Not even my part. It was insignificant, flat. I took the author aside and I said, Franz, my boy, I'll tell you what you must do. You know the lawyer's speech? Absurd. What am I to do while he is delivering it? I'll make the speech for my own defense, and I'll get something out of it. And the prison scene, just fancy, he had shoved a parson into that. I said to Franz, cut the parson out, my boy. What the dickens am I to do while he is preaching? Simply nothing at all. It's absurd. Give his speech to me. I'll preach to myself. And there you are. I don't want to boast. But really I did it all. And it was a success, eh? Again the chorus broke out, to be stopped by Valgrand who is contemplating his reflection in a mirror. And my makeup, Colonel. Do you know the story of my makeup? I hear they were talking about it all over the house. Am I like Guern? What do you think? You saw him quite close at the trial, Comte. What do you think? The resemblance is perfectly amazing, said the Comte de Baral with perfect truth. The actor stroked his face mechanically. A new idea struck him. My beard is a real one, he exclaimed. I let it grow on purpose. I hardly had to make myself up at all. I am the same build, the same type, same profile. It was ridiculously easy. Give me a lock of hair from your beard for a locket, said the Baron de Vibre impudently. Valgrand looked at her and heaved a profound sigh. Not yet, not yet, dear lady. I am infinitely sorry, but not yet. A little later on, perhaps. Wait for the hundredth performance. I must have one too, said Simone Hobor. And Valgrand with great dignity replied. I will put your name down for one, Madame. But the Comte de Baral had looked furtively at his watch and uttered an exclamation of surprise. My good people, it is most horribly late, and our great artistes must be overcome with sleep. Fourth with, they all prepared to depart, in spite of the actor's curtis' protest, that he could not hear of letting them go so soon. They lingered at the door for a few minutes in eager, animated conversation, shaking hands and exchanging farewells and thanks and congratulations. Then the sounds of their footsteps died away along the corridors and the Baron de Vibre and her friends left the theater. Valgrand turned back into his dressing room and locked the door, then dropped into the low and comfortable chair that was set before his dressing table. He remained there resting for a few minutes and then sat up and threw a whimsical glance at his dresser who was putting out his ordinary clothes. Hang it all, Charleau. What's exhaustion? The mere sight of such jewels as those enchanting women would wake one from the dead. Charleau shrugged his shoulders. Will you never be serious, Monsieur Valgrand? Heavens, I hope not, exclaimed the actor. I hope not, for if there is one thing of which one never tires here below, it is woman, the peerless rainbow that illuminates this veil of tears. You are very poetical tonight, the dresser remarked. I am a lover, in love with love. Oh, love, love. And in my time, you know. He made a sweeping comprehensive gesture and came back abruptly to mundane affairs. Come, help me to dress. Charleau offered him a bundle of letters which Valgrand took with careless hand. He looked at the envelopes one after another, hugely amused. Violet ink and monograms and coronets and perfume. Say, Charleau, is this a proposal? What do you bet? You never have anything else to dresser grumbled, except bills. Do you bet? If you insist, I bet it is a bill. Then you will win, said Charleau. Done, cried Valgrand. Listen. And he began to declaim the letter aloud. Oh, wondrous genius, a flower but now unclosing. Got it, Charleau? Another of them. He tore open another envelope. Aha, photograph enclosed, and will I send it back if the original is not to my fancy? He flung himself back in his chair to laugh. Where is my collar? He picked up a third envelope. What will you bet that this violet envelope does not contain another tribute to my fatal beauty? I bet it is another bill, said the dresser, but you are sure to win. I have, Valgrand replied, and again, declaimed the written words. If you promise to be discreet and true, you shall never regret it. Does one ever regret it, even if one does not keep one's promises? At lovers' perjuries, Charleau quoted, Drunken promises, Valgrand retorted. By the way, I'm dying for a drink. Give me a whiskey and soda. He got up and moved to the table on which Charleau had set the decanters and glasses and was about to take the glass the dresser offered him when a tap on the door brought the conversation to a sudden stop. The actor frowned. He did not want to be bothered by more visitors, but curiosity got the better of his annoyance and he told Charleau to see who it was. Charleau went to the door and peered through a narrow opening at the thoughtless intruder. Fancy making all this bother over a letter, he growled, Urgent, of course, they always are urgent. And he shut the door on the messenger and gave the letter to Valgrand. A woman brought it, he said. Valgrand looked at it. Hmm, morning. Will you bet, Charleau? Deep morning, said Charleau. Then I bet it is a declaration. I expect you will win again for very likely it is a begging letter. Black edges stir compassion. Valgrand was reading the letter carelessly to begin with, then with deep attention. He reached the signature at the end and then read it through again, allowed this time, punctuating his reading with flippant comments. In creating the part of the criminal on the tragedy tonight, you made yourself up into a most marvelous likeness of Guern, the man who murdered Lord Belfam. Come tonight at two o'clock in your costume, to the S.C.A. Take care not to be seen, but come, someone who loves you is waiting for you there. And it is signed, said the dresser. That, my boy, I'm not going to tell you, said Valgrand. And he put the letter carefully into his pocketbook. Why, man, what are you up to? He added as the dresser came up to him to take his clothes. Up to, the servant exclaimed, I am only helping you to get out. Idiots laughed, Valgrand. Didn't you understand? Give me my black tie and villain's coat again. What on earth is the matter with you, Charleau asked with some uneasiness? Surely you're not thinking of going. Not going? Why, in the whole of my career as amorist, I have never had such an opportunity before. It may be a hoax. Take my word for it. I know better. Things like this aren't hoaxes. Besides, I know the lady. She has often been pointed out to me and at the trial, by Joe Charleau, she is the most enchanting woman in the world. Strangely lovely, infinitely distinguished, absolutely fascinating. You are raving like a schoolboy. So much the better for me. Why, I was half dead with fatigue and now I am myself again. Be quick, booby, my hat. Time is getting on. Where is it? Where is what? The bewildered Charleau asked. Why this place, Thaugran answered irritably. This room messier. Look it up in the directory. Thaugran stamped him patiently up and down the room, while Charleau hurriedly turned the pages of the directory, muttering the syllables at the top of each as he ran through them in alphabetic order. J-K-L-M M-A-M-E What, messier Thaugran? What is the matter? Why, it is the street where the prison is. The Sante where Gern is in the condemned cell. Thaugran cocked his hat rakeishly on one side. And I have an assignation at the prison? Not exactly, but not far off, right opposite. Yes, number 22 must be right opposite. Right opposite the prison, Thaugran exclaimed gaily, the choice of the spot and the desire to see me in my costume as Gern are evidence of a positive refinement in sensation. See, the lady and I, the counterpart of Gern, and right opposite the real Gern in his cell. Quick man, my cloak, my cane. To think, sir, Charleau protested, it is absolutely absurd. A man like you, a man like me, Thaugran roared, would keep an appointment like this if he had to walk on his head to get there. Good night. And Caroling gaily, Thaugran strode down the corridor. Charleau was accustomed to these wild vagaries on his master's part. For Thaugran was the most daring and inveterate rake it is possible to imagine. But while he was tidying up the litter in the room, after Thaugran had left him, the dresser shook his head. What a pity it is. And he is such a great artiste. These women will make an absolute fool of him. Why, he hasn't even taken his gloves or his scarf. There was a tap of the door, and the doorkeeper looked in. Can I turn out the lights, he inquired. Has Monsieur Vagrand gone? Yes, said the dresser, absolutely, he has gone. A great night, said the doorkeeper. Have you seen the last edition of the Kapital, the 11 o'clock edition? There's a notice of us already. The papers don't lose any time nowadays. They say it is a great success. Let's look at it, said the dresser, and glancing through the notice added, yes, that's quite true. Monsieur Vagrand has achieved his finest triumph in his last creation. He looked casually through the newspaper, and suddenly broke into a sharp exclamation. Good heavens, it can't be possible. What's the matter, the doorkeeper inquired? Charleau pointed a shaking finger to another column. Read that, Jean, read that. Surely I am mistaken. The doorkeeper peered over Charleau's shoulder at the indicated passage. I don't see anything in that. It's that gurn affair again. Yes, he is to be executed at daybreak on the 18th. But that is this morning, presently Charleau exclaimed. Maybe, said the doorkeeper indifferently. Yes, last night was the 17th, so it is the 18th now. Are you ill, Charleau? Charleau pulled himself together. No, it's nothing. I'm only tired. You can put out the lights. I shall be out of the theatre in five minutes. I only want to do one or two little things here. All right, said Jean, turning away. Shut the door behind you when you leave the bed. Charleau sat on the arm of a chair and wiped his brow. I don't like this business, he muttered. Why the deuce did he want to go? What does this woman want with him? I may be only an old fool, but I know what I know, and there have been no iniquitous stories about this job already. He sat there meditating till an idea took shape in his mind. Can I dare go round there and just prowl about? Of course, he will be furious. But suppose that letter was a decoy and he is walking into a trap. One can never tell. An assignation in that particular street with that prison opposite and gurne to be guillotined within the next hour or so? The man made up his mind, hurriedly put on his coat and hat and switched off the electric lights in the exquisitely appointed dressing room. I'll go, he said aloud. If I see anything suspicious or if at the end of half an hour I don't see Monsieur Vagran leaving the house, well... Charle turned the key in the lock. Yes, I will go. I shall be much easier in my mind. CHAPTER 31 FELL TREATURY No. 22, Rue Messier was a wretched one-storied house that belonged to a country vine dresser whose seldom came to Paris. It was damp, dirty and dilapidated and would have had to be rebuilt from top to bottom if it were to be rendered habitable. There had been a long succession of so-called tenants of this hovel, shady, disreputable people who, for the most part, left without paying any rent, the landlord being only too glad if occasionally they left behind them a little miserable furniture or worn out kitchen utensils. He was finding it ever more difficult to let the wretched house and for weeks together it had remained unoccupied. But one day, about a month ago, he had been astonished by receiving an application for the tenancy from someone who vaguely signed himself dirrand and still further astonished by finding in the envelope banknotes representing a year's rent in advance. Delighted with this windfall and congratulating himself on not having gone to the expense of putting the hovel into something like repair, unnecessary now since he had secured a tenant for everyone for at least 12 months, the landlord promptly sent a receipt to this dirrand with the keys and thought no more about the matter. In the principal room on the first floor of this hovel a little poor furniture had been put a shabby sofa, an equally shabby armchair, a few cane bottom chairs and a deal table. On the table was a teapot, a small kettle over a spirit lamp and a few cups and small cakes. A smoky lamp shed a dim light over this depressing interior and a handful of coal was smoldering in the cracked grate and here in these miserable surroundings Lady Beltham was installed on this 18th of December. The great lady was even paler than usual and her eyes shone with a curious brilliance. That she was suffering from the most acute and feverish nervous excitement was patent from the way in which she kept putting her hands to her heart and the silence of its throbbing were unendurable and from the restless way in which she paced the room stopping at every other step to listen for some sound to reach her through the silence of the night. Once she stepped quickly from the middle of the room to the wall opposite the door that opened onto the staircase. She pushed the jar the door of a small cupboard and murmured hush making a warning movement with her hands as if addressing someone concealed there. She moved forward again and sinking on to the sofa pressed her hands against her throbbing temples. No one yet she murmured presently a whole eye would give ten years of my life to is all really lost? Her eyes wandered around the room what a forbidding squalid place and again she sprang to her feet and paced the room. Through the grimy pains of the window she could just see a long row of roofs and chimneys outlined against the sky. Oh those black roofs those horrible black roofs she muttered. The already wretched light in the wretched room was burning dimmer and Lady Belfam turned up to wick of the lamp. As she did so she caught a sound and stopped. Can that be he? She exclaimed and hurried to the door. Footsteps and a man's footsteps. The next moment she was sure someone stumbled in the passage below came slowly up the stairs was on the landing. Lady Belfam recoiled to the sofa and sank down on it turning her back to the door and hiding her face in her hands. The Grand The Grand was a man with a passion for adventure but an invariable success in his flirtations had made him blasé and now it was only the absolutely novel that could appeal to him and there could certainly be no question about the woman who had sent him the present invitation being anything but a commonplace one. Moreover it was not just any woman who had asked him to keep this asignation in the outward guise of Gern but the one woman in whose heart the murderer ought to inspire the greatest of whorents the widow of the man whom Gern had murdered. What should his deportment be when he came face to face with her? That was what preoccupied the actor as he left the theatre and made him dismiss the taxi in which he had started before he reached his destination. The Grand came into the room slowly and with a trained eye for effect. He flung his cloak and hat theatrically on the armchair and moved towards Lady Belfam who still sat motionless with her face hidden in her hands. I have come he said in deep tones. Lady Belfam uttered a little exclamation as if of surprise and seemed even more anxious to hide from him. Odd thought Belgrond. She seems to be really upset. What can I say to her, I wonder? But Lady Belfam made a great effort and sat up looking at the actor with strained eyes yet striving to force a smile. Thank you for coming, sir. She murmured. It is not from you, madam, that the thanks should come. Belgrond answered magnificently. Quite the reverse. I am infinitely grateful to you for having summoned me. Pray believe that I would have been here even sooner, but for the delay inevitable on a first performance. But you are cold, he broke off for Lady Belfam was shivering. Yes, I am. She said almost inaudibly mechanically pulling a scarf over her shoulders. Belgrond was standing, taking in every detail of the squalid room in which he found himself with this woman whose wealth and taste and sumptuous home at Newie were notorious. I must clear up this mystery, he thought, while he moved the window to see that it was shut and searched about in vain for a little cold to put upon the fire. While he was thus occupied Lady Belfam also rose and going to the table poured out two cups of tea. Perhaps this will warm us in the absence of anything better, she said, making an effort to seem more amiable. I am afraid it is rather strong, Monsieur Belgrond. I hope you do not mind. And with a hand that trembled as if it held a heavy weight she brought one of the cups to her guest. Tea never upsets me, Madame Belgrond replied as he took the cup. Indeed, I like it. He came to the table and picked up the basin filled with castor sugar, making first as if to put some in her cup. I never take sugar in tea, she said. Belgrond made a little grimace. I admire you but I will not imitate you, he said and unceremoniously tipped a generous helping of the sugar into his own cup. Lady Belfam watched him with haggard eyes. While they were sipping their tea there was silence between them. Lady Belfam went back to the sofa and Belgrond took a chair quite close to her. The conversation was certainly lacking in animation, he reflected whimsically. Would the lady succeed in reducing him to the level of intelligence of a callous school boy? And she most certainly did seem to be horribly upset. He raised his eyes to her and found that she was gazing into infinity. One has got to draw upon psychology here Belgrond mused. It is not me myself in whom this lovely creature takes any interest. Or she would not have desired me to come in these trappings that make me look like Guern. It's his skin that I must stop in. But what is the proper attitude to adopt? The sentimental or the brutal? Shall I appeal to her proselytizing mania and do the repentant center act? I'll chance it, here goes. And he rose to his feet. As he moved Lady Belfam looked round, uneasy, frightened almost anguished. It seemed as though she realized that the moment had come for extraordinary things to happen. Belgrond began to speak as he did upon the stage, restraining his effects at first and controlling his voice of set purpose to give full effect to it later on modulating it cleverly. Act your summons, madam. The prisoner Guern has burst his bonds, broken through the door of his cell and scaled his prison walls, triumphing over every obstacle with a single object of coming to your feet. He comes and he took a step nearer to her. Lady Belfam stayed in with a gesture of terror. Don't, don't, please say no more, she murmured. I've got a bite, Vagran said to himself. Let's try another bait. And, as if repeating apart, he said dramatically, has your charitable heart turned toward the guilty soul that you feign would rescue from transgression? Men say you are so great a lady, so good, so near to heaven. Again Lady Belfam put up a protesting hand. Not that. Not that, she said imploringly. Oh, this is torture. Go away. In her distress she was really superbly beautiful. But Vagran knew too much about women of every temperament, neurotic, hysterical, and many other kind, not to suppose that here he was merely taking part in a sentimental comedy. He was very, very passionate about the character and laid his hand on Lady Belfam's arm. Do you not know me, he said harshly? I am Gern. I will crush you to my heart. And he tried to draw her close to him. But this time Lady Belfam threw him off with a violence of despair. Stand back, you brute. She cried in tones that there was no mistaking. Vagran recoiled in real dismay and stood silent in the middle of the wall furthest from him and leaned for support against it. Listen, Madame. Vagran began presently in dulcet tones that had the effect of making Lady Belfam try to control her emotion and murmur some faint words of apology. Of course, you know I am Vagran. Vagran, the actor. I will apologizing for having come to you like this, but I have some small excuse in your note. Oh yes, I forgot. Vagran went on seeming to pick his words. You have overestimated your strength and now perhaps you find the resemblance too startling. Do not be frightened, but your letter came to me like healing balm upon a quivering wound. For weeks, long weeks, the actor stopped and mechanically rubbed his eyes. It's odd, he thought to himself, but I feel ever so much more inclined to go to sleep than to make love. He shook off his real desire for sleep and began again. I have loved you since the day I saw you first. I love you with an intensity. For some moments Lady Belfam had been looking at him with a calmer air and eyes that were less hostile. The old amorist observed it and made a tremendous effort to overcome his most inopportune drowsiness. How shall I be silent that last kind heaven is about to grant the fondest desire of my heart when all a fire with love I am kneeling at your feet? Vaughan dropped to his knees. Lady Belfam drew herself up listening. In the distance a clock struck four. Oh, I can bear it no longer she cried stammeringly. I can bear no more. Listen, four o'clock. No, no. It is too much, too much for me. The woman seemed absolutely frantic. She paced up and down the room like a caged animal. Then she came close to Vaughan and looked at him with an immense pity in her eyes. Go, sir. If you believe in God, go away. Go as quickly as you can. Vaughan struggled to his feet. His head was heavy and he had an irresistible desire to hold his tongue and just stay where he was. Partly from gallantry and partly from his desire not to move. He murmured not without a certain aptness. I believe only in the God of love, madam, and he bids me remain. In vain did Lady Belfam make every effort to rouse the actor and induce him to go away. In vain were all her frantic appeals to him to fly. I will stay, was all he said, and he dropped heavily on the sofa by Lady Belfam's side and mechanically tried to put his arm round her. Listen, she began freeing herself from him in heaven's name you must and yet I cannot tell you oh, it is horrible, I am going mad. How am I to choose? What am I to do? Which, oh, go, go, go, there is not a minute to lose. I will stay, said Vaughan again. This amazing drowsiness was gaining on him so fast that he had but one desire left for sleep. Surely a strange assignation this and a poor kind of lover too. Lady Belfam stopped her torrent of appeal and looked at the actor crumpled up beside her. Suddenly she started and listened. A slight noise became audible coming from the staircase. Lady Belfam stood erect and rigid then dropped to her knees upon the floor. Oh, it is all over, she sobbed. In spite of his overwhelming longing for sleep, Vaughan suddenly started. Two heavy hands fell on his shoulder and then his arms were pulled behind him and his wrists rapidly bound together. Good God, he cried in stupefied surprise turning quickly round. Two men stood before him, old soldiers by the look of them in dark uniforms relieved only by the gleam of metal buttons. He was going to say more but one of the men laid his hands over his lips, hush, he said peremptorily. Vaughan made frantic efforts to say, what does this mean? Let me go. What right? The two men began to drag him gently away. Come along said one of them in his ear times up, don't be obstinate. Besides, you know it's quite useless to resist Gern, the other added, not unkindly. Nothing in the world could I don't understand, Vaughan protested feebly. Who are you and why do you call me Gern? Let me finish the crowd one of the men irritably. You know we are running an awful risk in letting you out of the prison and bringing you here when you are supposed to be with the chaplain. You swore you would behave squarely with us and go back when you were told now you've got to keep your promise. The lady paid us well to give you an hour with her, the other band put in, but you've had more than an hour and a half and we've got our characters and our situations to look after. So now come along to any nonsense. Vaughan fighting hard against his overpowering sleepiness began to have some vague comprehension of what was happening. He recognized the uniforms and guessed that the men were prison warders. Good God, he exclaimed thickly, the fools think I am Gern, but I am not Gern asked. He cast a despairing eye at Lady Belfam, who throughout the awful scene remained on her knees in a corner of the room with anguish, apparently deaf and turned to stone. Tell the madam, he implored her. Oh God, save me. But still the warders dragged him on towards the door. By a herculean effort, he swayed them back with him into the middle of the room. I am not Gern, I tell you. He shouted. I am Vaughan. Vaughan the actor. Everybody in the world knows me. You know it too, but search me, I tell you. And he made a sign with his head towards his left side. Look in my pocketbook. My name is inside, and you'll find a letter too. Prove for the trap I've been led into. The letter from that woman over there. Better look and see, Nabe, one warder said to the other. And the Vaughan he added, not so much noise man, do you mean to get us all caught? Nabe passed a quick hand through Vaughan's pockets. There was no notebook there. He shrugged his shoulders. Besides what about it, he growled. We brought Gern here, didn't we? Well we've got to take Gern back again. That's all I know. Come on. Beaten down by the drowsiness that was quite irresistible. And worn out by his violent but feudal efforts to resist the warders, Vaughan was half dragged, half carried out by the two men. His head drooping on his chest, his consciousness failing. But still as they were getting him down the stairs his voice could be heard in the half room above bleeding more weakly and at longer intervals I am not Gern. I am not Gern. Once more silence reigned in the room. After the three men had gone, Lady Baltham rose to her feet, tottered to the window and stood there listening. She heard their footsteps crossing the street and stopping by the door into the prison. She waited for a few minutes to make sure they had escaped unnoticed their amazing adventure, then turned again to the sofa, struggled to unfasten the collar of her dress to get more air, drew a few deep sighs and swooned. The door opposite the staircase opened slowly and noiselessly Gern emerged from the darkness and went towards Lady Baltham. The murderer flung himself at her feet, covered her face with kisses and pressed her hands into his. Maude, he cried, maude. She did not answer, and he hunted about the room for something to revive her. Presently, however, she recovered consciousness unaided and uttered a faint sigh. Her lover hurried to her. Oh, Gern, she murmured, laying her white hand on the wretched neck. It's you, dear. Come close to me and hold me in your arms. It was too much for me. I almost broke down and told everything. I could have borne no more. Oh, what an appalling time. Gern sat up sharply, her face drawn with terror. Listen, I can hear him still. Try not to think about it, Gern, whispered, caressing her. Did you hear him how he kept on saying I am not Gern, I am not Gern? Oh, Heaven, grant that they may not find that out. Gern himself was shaken by the horror of the plot he had contrived with his mistress to affect this substitution of another for himself. It surpassed in gasliness from before, and he had not dared to give the least hint of it to Nebay. The orders were well paid, he said to reassure her now. They would deny everything. He hesitated a second and then asked. He drank the drug, didn't he? Lady Baltham nodded ascent. It will take effect. It was acting already so rapidly that I thought for a moment he would fall unconscious at my feet. Gern drew a deep breath. Maude, we are saved, he exclaimed. See, he went on. As soon as it is light and there are enough people in the street for us to mix with them unobserved, we will go away from here. While you were with him, I burned my other clothes so I will take these to get away in. He picked up the hat and cloak which Valgrond had thrown upon the chair and wrapped the heavy cloak around himself. This will conceal me effectively. Let us go at once, Lady Baltham exclaimed, but Gern stayed her. I must get rid of this beard and my moustache. He said and he took a pair of scissors from his pocket. I was walking towards a looking glass when suddenly they both heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming slowly and steadily up the stairs. Gern had no time to get back to his former hiding place. All he could do was to sink into the one armchair that was in the room and conceal his features as well as he could by turning down the brim of the hat and turning up the collar of the cloak which the actor had forgotten. The man went white as a sheet. The Lady Baltham appeared to recover all her presence of mind and strengthened daring at the approach of danger and she hurried to the door. But though she tried to keep it shut it slowly turned upon the hinges and a timid, hesitating figure appeared in the doorway and advanced towards the retreating woman. Who are you? What do you want? Lady Baltham faltered. I beg you to excuse me, madam. I came to... He caught sight of Gern and pointed at him. Monsieur Vagran knows me. I am Charleau, his dresser at the theater and I came to... I wanted to have a word... stay. He took a small square parcel from his pocket. Monsieur Vagran went off so hurriedly that he forgot his pocketbook and so I came to bring it to him. The dresser was trying to get near the murderer whom he supposed to be his master but Lady Baltham was in acute anxiety kept between the two men. Charleau misunderstood her intention. I also came to... He stopped again and whispered to Lady Baltham. He does not speak. Is he very angry with me for coming? I didn't come out of curiosity or to cause you any trouble, madam. Will you ask him not to be very angry with his poor old Charleau? Lady Baltham felt like swooning again. She could endure very little of this old man's cruelty. Go, for goodness sake, go, she said preemptively. I am going, Charleau said. I know I am in the way, but I must explain to him. And he raised his voice and spoke to Gern, who sat quite still, sinking as far as he could into the shadow of the chair. You are not very angry with me, Monsieur Vagran, are you? And getting no reply he looked apologetically at Lady Baltham. It was all these stories and then the street and the prison opposite but perhaps you do not know. You see, I read in the paper yesterday or rather tonight, a couple of hours ago that the man Gern who murdered the rich English gentleman was to be executed this morning. And so I was rather what you might call uneasy. At first I only meant to follow Monsieur Vagran and wait for him down below but I lost my way and I have only just arrived. I found the door open and did not know whether he had gone or was still here. I took the liberty to come upstairs but I am going now quite easy in my mind since he is quiet and happy here with you. And I beg your pardon, Madame. He threw a last appeal to where Gern was. I hope you will forgive me, Monsieur Vagran. He sighed as no answer was forthcoming and made a pathetic little appeal to Lady Baltham. You will explain to him, Madame Montchou, he is a kind master and one does get fancies like that, you know? But now I will go away easy, quite easy in my mind since I have seen him. Charleau turned away slowly with bent shoulders. As he passed the window he glanced outside and stopped short. Day was just beginning to break making the wand light of the street lamp still more wand. From the window a view could be obtained of a kind of platform at the center of the Boulevard de Rago which was bounded by the high wall of the Sante prison. This spot, usually deserted, was crowded with people. A moving mob swarming and struggling behind some hastily erected barriers. Charleau stretched a trembling hand towards the spectacle in sudden comprehension. Good heavens, he cried. That must be where they are putting up the scaffold. Yes, I can see the planks and uprights. It is the guillotine. The exit. The old man's words ended in a sudden cry and almost simultaneously there was a heavy thud. Struck from behind Charleau fell like a log to the floor while Lady Baltham recoiled in terror clenching her fist to prevent herself from screaming. Seizing the opportunity presented by Vagran's faithful servant standing so still hypnotized by the gruesome spectacle being prepared outside Gern had drawn a knife from his pocket and springing upon the unfortunate old man had driven the blade up to the hilt behind his neck. Charleau fell prone and rigid, the weapon remaining in the wound and stopping the flow of blood. Lady Baltham was staring at the victim in horror, but Gern seized her roughly by the arm. Without troubling to alter the appearance of his face, but horrified as she was by the tragedies which had succeeded one another in such appalling and rapid succession during this awful night, Gern drew the half feigning woman to him and hurried her away. Come quick, he muttered hoarsely. Let us get out of this. End of Chapter 31 Recording by Alan Winteroud boomcoach.blogspot.com Chapter 32 of Fontamas by Marcella Lane and Pierre Suvestre This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Alan Winteroud Fontamas by Marcella Lane and Pierre Suvestre translated by Cranston Metcalf Chapter 32 on the scaffold It was still dark In the keen morning air a crowd came hurrying along the pavements flowing over into the roadways The boulevards were black with people all marching briskly towards one common goal and it was a lighthearted singing crowd chanting the choruses of popular songs and swarming into the open restaurants and wine shops and drinking dens. It was noticeable that all these late birds belonged to one of two sharply divided classes. They were either rich or miserably poor. They either came from the night clubs or they were the poor devils with no homes or hearths who roam about the city from one years in to another. There were crooks whose faces shone with the evil excitement of alcohol out of works of all kinds beggars and young men all young men with sleek oiled hair and shiny boots in whose eyes and demeanor theft and crime could be seen. By a curious coincidence the great news seemed to have reached all, toffs and crooks alike at exactly the same time. About midnight the rumor had run around the town. It was certain definite this time the official steps had been taken and the guillotine was going to raise her bloodstained arms towards the sky at earliest dawn, Gern, the man who had murdered Lord Belfam, was to undergo the supreme punishment and expatiate his murder with his life. No sooner had the great news become known than all prepared as for a holiday to go to see the man's headfall. At Montmartre carriages were requisitioned and taxi cabs were at a premium. Women in gorgeous toilets and sparkling with jewels streamed from the open doors into the carriages which should bear them swiftly towards the Santé prison and the place of execution. In the faux-borgs likewise the bars were emptied of their customers and men and women linked arm in arm set forth on foot with songs and ribaldries upon their lips for the spectacle of blood and the boulevard a lago. Around the Santé prison an atmosphere of pleasure reigned as the people massed together in tight ranks produced bottles of wine and ate sausages and gaily enjoyed an improvised supper in the open air while speculating about the details of the sight they had come to see and so the crowd amused itself for Guern's head was going to fall. Worming his way through the crowd François Bonbon the landlord of the Saint Anthony's pig led a little company of friends who took advantage of his great stature to find the best path to take. The landlord was half drunk already in honor of the occasion. Come along Billy Tom he shouted, catch hold of the tail of my coat and then you won't lose us. Where is Hogshead Jeffery? He's coming along with Buzelle. Good. Just fancy if Buzelle had tried to get through here with his train. There are some people about a two men passed the landlord of the market in just then. Come along said one of them and as the other caught him up Jules added didn't you recognize those fellows? No said Fandor Jules told him the names of the men whom they had passed you will understand that I don't want them to recognize me he said and as Fandor smiled Jules went on it's a queer thing but it is always the future customers of the guillotine apaches and fellows like that who make a point of seeing this political the detective stopped and laid a hand upon the journalist's shoulder wait he said we are right in front now only the men who are holding the line are ahead of us if we want to get through and avoid the crush we must make ourselves known at once here is your pass Jerome Fandor took the card which Jules held out to him and had got for him as a special favor what do we do now he asked the municipal guards Jules replied I can see their sabers flashing we will get behind the newspaper kiosks and let them drive the crowd back and then we will go through Jules had correctly anticipated the maneuver which the officer and commander of the squadron immediately proceeded to execute grave and imposing and marvelously mounted on magnificent horses a large number of municipal guards had just arrived on the boulevard Arago by the side of the Sante prison and just where the detective and the journalist were standing a sharp order rang out and the guards deployed fan wise and riding knee to knee drove the crowd back irresistibly to the end of the avenue utterly disregarding the angly murmur of protest and the general crushing that ensued the municipal guards were followed by troops of infantry and these again by gendarmes all who by some means or other had managed to worm their way between the horses of the guard and the infantry determined at any cost to keep in the front row of spectators Jules and Fandor armed with their special passes which admitted them to the enclosure where the guillotine actually stood had no difficulty in getting through the triple line they found themselves in the center of a large portion of the boulevard Arago entirely clear spectators and bounded on one side by the walls of the prison and on the other by those of a convent in this clear space about a dozen individuals in black coats and silk hats were walking about affecting a complete indifference to what was going to happen although they really were profoundly affected by it chief detective inspectors she said pointing them out my colleagues some of yours too do you see them chief reporters are the big dailies are you aware that you are uncommonly lucky to have been selected at your extremely youthful age to represent your paper at this legubrious function Jerome Fandor made an odd grimace I don't mind admitting to you Jules that I am here because I am like you in wanting to see Gern's head fall you have satisfied me beyond all doubt that Gern is Fontamas and I want to be sure that you are clearly dead but if it were not the execution of that one particular wretch the only thing that can make society safe I should certainly have declined the honor of reporting this event it upset you yes Jules bent his head so it does me just think for more than five years I have been fighting Fontamas for more than five years I have believed in his existence for more than five years I have been working for this wretched death for death is the only thing that can put a stop to his crimes Jules paused a moment but Fandor made no comment and I am rather sick and sorry too because although I have reached the certainty that Gern is Fontamas and have succeeded in convincing intelligent people who are ready to study my work in good faith I have nevertheless not succeeded in establishing legal proof that Gern is Fontamas Diebler and the public prosecutor and people generally think that it is merely Gern who is going to be decapitated now I may have secured this man's condemnation but nonetheless he has beaten me and deprived me of the satisfaction of having brought him, Fontamas to the scaffold I have only consigned Gern to the scaffold and that is a defeat the detective stopped the war in the city of Derego from the end to which the crowd had been driven back cheers and applause and joyous shouts broke out it was the mob welcoming the arrival of the guillotine drawn by an old white horse a heavy black van arrived at a fast trot escorted by four mounted police with drawn swords the van stopped a few yards from Jules and Fandor and proceeded to get out Monsieur de Paris and his assistants, Jules informed Fandor Diebler and his men Fandor shivered and Jules went on with his explanations that van contains the timbers and the knife Diebler and his men will get the guillotine up in half an hour and in an hour at the outside Fontamas will be no more while the detective was speaking the executioner had stepped briskly to the officer in charge of the proceedings and exchanged a few words with him he signified his approval of the arrangements made saluted the superintendent of police of that division and turned to his men come along lads get to work he caught Cider Jules and shook hands with him good morning he said as though his work were of the most commonplace kind excuse me we are a bit late this morning the assistants took from the van some long cases wrapped in grey canvas and apparently very heavy they laid these on the ground with the utmost care they were the timbers and frame of the guillotine and must not be warped or strained for the guillotine is a nicely accurate machine they swept the ground thoroughly careful to remove any gravel which might have affected the equilibrium of the framework and then set up the red uprights of the scaffold the floor timbers fitted one into another and were joined by stout metal clamps fastened together by a bolt next the men set the grooved slides down which the knife must fall into holes cut for the purpose in the middle of the floor the guillotine now raised its awful arms to the sky hitherto diviler had merely washed his men at work now he took a hand himself with a spirit level he ascertained that the floor was absolutely horizontal next he arranged the two pieces of wood from each of which a segment is cut so as to form the lunette into which the victim's neck is thrust then he tested the lever to make sure that it worked freely and gave a curt order the knife one of the assistants brought a case which diviler opened and van door instinctively shrank as a flash from the bright steel fell full in his eyes that sinister triangular knife that presently would do the work of death diviler lent calmly against the guillotine fitted the shank into the grooves in the two uprights and setting the mechanism to work hoisted up the knife which glittered strangely he looked the whole thing over and turned again to his assistants the hey a truss was arranged in the lunette and diviler came up to the instrument and pressed the spring like a flash the knife found the uprights and severed the truss into the rehearsal was finished now for the real drama while the guillotine was being set up juve had stood by van door nervously chewing cigarettes everything is ready now he said to the lad diviler has only got to put on his coat and take delivery of fontamas the assistants had just arranged two baskets filled with brand along each side of the machine one was destined to receive the severed head the other the body when that was released from the plier the executioner pulled on his coat rubbed his hands mechanically and then strode toward a group of officials who had arrived while the guillotine was being erected and were now standing by the entrance to the prison gentlemen said diviler it will be sunrise in a quarter of an hour we can proceed to awaken the prisoner slowly in single file the officials went inside the prison they were present the attorney general the public prosecutor his deputy the governor of the prison and behind these monsieur hofford divler and his two assistants the little company passed through the corridors to the third floor where the condemned cells are the warden came forward with his bunch of keys in his hands divler looked at the public prosecutor are you ready sir and as that gentleman who was very white made a sign of assent divler looked at the governor of the prison unlock the cell the governor ordered nabay turned the key noiselessly and pushed open the door the public prosecutor stepped forward he had hoped to find the condemned man asleep and so have had a moment's respite before announcing the fatal news but he drew back for the man was awake and dressed sitting ready on his bed with mad haggard eyes gurne said the public prosecutor be brave your appeal has been rejected the other standing behind him were all silent and the words of the public prosecutor fell like a knell the condemned man however had not stirred had not even seemed to understand his attitude was that of a man in a state of somnambulism the public prosecutor was surprised by this strange impassivity and spoke again in strangled tones be brave be brave a spasm crossed the face of the condemned man and his lips moved as though he were making an effort to say something I am not he murmured but divler laid his hands upon the man's shoulders and cut the horrid moment short come now the chaplain came forward in his turn pray my brother he said do you wish to hear mass at the touch of the executioner the prisoner had trembled he rose like an automaton with dilated eyes and twitching face he understood what the chaplain said and took a step towards him I not monsieur harvard intervened and spoke to the chaplain really sir no it is time divler nodded approval let us be quick we can proceed the sun has risen the public prosecutor was still bleeding be brave be brave divler took the man by one arm a warden took him by the other and between them they half carried him to the office for his last toilet in the little room dimly lighted by a winking lamp a chair had been set close to a table the executioner and his assistant pushed the condemned man into the chair and divler took up a pair of scissors the public prosecutor spoke to the prisoner would you like a glass of rum would you like a cigarette is there anything you wish to have done maitre barbero who had not arrived in time for the awakening of the prisoner now approached his client he too was ghastly white is there anything else that I can do for you have you any last wish the condemned man the condemned man made another effort to rise from the chair and a horse grown escaped from his throat I I the prison doctor had joined the group and now drew the public prosecutor's deputy aside it is appalling he said the man has not articulated a single word since he was awakened he is as though sunk in a stupefied sleep there is a technical word for his condition he is in a state of inhibition he is alive and yet he is a corpse anyhow he is utterly unconscious incapable of any clear thought or of saying a word that has any sense I have never seen such complete stupefied divler waved aside the men who were pressing around him sign the jail book please Mr. Harvard he said and while that gentleman affixed a shaky signature to the warrant authorizing the delivery of Gern to the public executioner divler took the scissors and cut a segment out of the prisoner's shirt and cut off a wisp of hair that grew low down on his neck meanwhile an assistant bound the wrist of the man who was about to die then the executioner looked at his watch and made a half bow to the public prosecutor come come it is the time fixed by law two assistants took the wretch by the shoulders and raised him up there was a horrible deep unintelligible rattle in his throat I I but no one heard him and he was dragged away it was practically a corpse that the servants of the guillotine bore down to the boulevard there I go outside the first rosy tints of early dawn were waking the birds and playing on the great triangular knife drawing gleams from it the time was ten minutes past five and now the supreme moment was at hand the crowd momentarily growing denser was crushed behind the cordon of troops that had difficulty in keeping it at a distance from the guillotine the soldiers unheeding the oaths and curses and entreaties with which they were assailed carried out their orders and permitted no one to take up his stand anywhere in the near neighborhood of the guillotine except the few rare individuals who had a special pass a sudden murmur ran through the crowd the mounted police stationed opposite the guillotine had just drawn their sabers Fandor gripped Zhu's hand nervously the detective was very pale let us get over there he said and led Fandor just behind the guillotine to the side where the severed head would fall into the basket we shall see the poor devil get out of the carriage and being fastened onto the bascule and pulled into the lunette he went on talking as if to divert his own mind from the thing before him that's the best place for seeing things I stood there when Pueynez was guillotined a long time ago now and I was there again in 1909 when Dushaman the parasite was executed but he came to an abrupt stop from the great door of the sante prison a carriage came rapidly out all heads were uncovered all eyes were fixed and a deep silence fell upon the crowded boulevard the carriage passed the journalist and the detective at a gallop and pulled up with a jerk just opposite them on the other side of the guillotine and at the very foot of the scaffold Monsieur Diebler jumped down from the box and opening the door at the back of the vehicle let down the steps pale and nervous the chaplain got out backwards hiding the scaffold from the eyes of the condemned man whom the assistants managed somehow to help out of the carriage Fandor was shaking with nervousness and muttering to himself but things moved quickly now the chaplain, still walking backwards hid the dread vision for yet a few seconds more then stepped aside abruptly the assistant seized the condemned man and pushed him on to the bascule Juv was watching the unhappy wretch and could not restrain a word of admiration that man is a brave man he has not even turned pale generally condemned him but he was still walking backwards in a pale generally condemned men are livid the executioner's assistant had bound the man upon the plank it tilted upwards Diebler grasped the head by the two ears and pulled it into the lunette despite one last convulsive struggle of the victim there was a click of a spring the flash of the falling knife a spurt of blood a dull groan from 10,000 breasts and the head rolled into the basket but Juv had flung Fandor aside and sprang toward the scaffold he thrust the assistant away and plunging his hands into the brand that was all soaked with blood he seized the severed head by the hair and stared at it horrified by the scandalous action the assistant rushed upon the detective Diebler forced him back you must be mad get away Fandor saw that Juv was staggering and seemed about to swoon he rushed towards him good god he cried in tones of anguish it isn't Guern who has just been put to death Juv panted brokenly this face has not gone white because it is painted it is made up like an actor's oh curses on him Fantomas has escaped Fantomas has got away he has had some innocent man executed in his stead I tell you Fantomas is alive End of Chapter 32 Recording by Alan Winteroud BoomCoach.blogspot.com End of Fantomas by Marcella Lane and Pierre Souvestre Translated by Cranston Metcalf