Messengers of Evil Part 42

The magistrate asked a question.

"It is a matter of twenty millions, is it not? It must have been a terrible blow to you?"

"Fearful, monsieur," replied Monsieur Nanteuil. "Our credit was shaken: it affected a considerable number of our clients, Monsieur Thomery among them, and we consider him one of our most important clients. You are aware, of course, that in financial matters confidence is almost everything!... Our losses have just been covered by an insurance, but we have suffered other than direct material losses. Still"--the banker turned towards Elizabeth, who was wiping tears from her eyes--"still, what are our troubles compared with those which have struck Mademoiselle Dollon blow upon blow? a.s.sa.s.sination of the Baroness de Vibray, mysterious death----"

"The Baroness de Vibray was not a.s.sa.s.sinated, she committed suicide,"

interrupted Fandor sharply. "Most certainly, I do not wish to make you responsible for that, gentlemen; but when you wrote, announcing her ruin, you dealt her a very hard blow!"

"Could we have done otherwise?" replied Monsieur Barbey, with his customary gravity of manner and tone. "In our matter of fact business, where all must be clear and definite, we do not mince our words: we are bound to state things as they actually are. What is more, we do not share your point of view, and are convinced that the Baroness de Vibray was certainly murdered."

Monsieur Fuselier now expressed his opinion, or at least, what he wished to be considered as his opinion:

"Gentlemen, consider yourselves for the moment as not in the presence of the examining magistrate, but as being in the drawing-room of Monsieur Fuselier. In my private capacity, I will give you my opinion regarding the rue Norvins affair. I am decidedly less and less in agreement with Monsieur Fandor, though I recognise with pleasure his fine detective gifts."

"Thanks," interrupted Fandor ironically. "That is a poor compliment!"

Smiling, the magistrate continued:

"I am of the same opinion as Messieurs Barbey-Nanteuil: I believe Madame de Vibray was murdered."

Fandor could not control his impatience.

"Be logical, messieurs, I beg of you!" he cried. "The Baroness de Vibray committed suicide. Her letter states her intention. The authenticity of this letter has not been disputed. The disastrous revelations, contained in Messieurs Barbey-Nanteuil's communication, proved too severe a shock for the poor lady's unbalanced brain: the news of her ruin, abruptly conveyed, drove her to desperation. The death of the Baroness de Vibray was voluntary and self-inflicted."

There was a dead silence. Then Monsieur Barbey asked a question.

"Well, then, Monsieur Fandor, will you explain to us how it happened that the Baroness de Vibray was found dead in the studio of the painter, Jacques Dollon?"

Fandor seemed to expect this question from the banker.

"There are two hypotheses," he declared. "The first, and, in my humble opinion, the more improbable, is this: Madame de Vibray at the same time that she decided to put an end to her life, wished to pay her protege a last visit; all the more so, because he had asked her to come and see his work before it was sent in to the Salon. Perhaps the Baroness intended to perform an act of charity, in this instance, before her supreme hour struck. Perhaps she miscalculated the effect of the poison she had taken, and so died in the house of the friend she had come to see and help: her death there could not have been her choice, for she must have known what serious trouble it would involve the artist in, were her dead body found in his studio.

"Here is the second hypothesis, which seems the more plausible. The Baroness de Vibray learns that she is ruined, she decides to die, and by chance or coincidence, which remains to be explained, for I have not the key to it yet, some third parties interested in her fate, learn her decision. They let her write to her lawyer; they do not prevent her poisoning herself; but, as soon as she is dead, they straightway take possession of her dead body and hasten to carry it to Jacques Dollon's studio. To the painter himself they administered either with his consent or by force--probably by force--a powerful narcotic, so that when the police are called in next day they not only find the Baroness lying dead in the studio, but they also find the painter unconscious, close by his visitor. When Jacques Dollon is restored to consciousness, he is quite unable to give any sort of explanation of the tragedy; naturally enough, the police look upon him as the murderer of her who was well known to have been his patroness.... How does that strike you?"

It was now Monsieur Fuselier's turn to hold forth.

"You forget a detail which has its importance! I do not pretend to judge as to whether she was poisoned by her own free act or not; but, in any case, we have this proof--an uncorked phial of cyanide of pota.s.sium was found in Jacques Dollon's studio. It seemed to have been recently opened; but, when the painter was questioned about it, he declared that he had not made use of this ingredient for a very long time."

Fandor replied:

"I can turn your argument against you, monsieur. If the Baroness de Vibray had been poisoned, voluntarily or not, with the cyanide of pota.s.sium in Dollon's studio, he would have taken the precaution to banish all traces of the poison in question. It would have been his first care! When questioned by the police inspector, he would not have declared that he had not made use of this poison for a very long time!

the contradiction involved is proof that Dollon was sincere; therefore, we are faced by a fact which, if not inexplicable, is, at least, unexplained."

Monsieur Barbey now had something to say:

"You criticise and hair-split in a remarkable fashion, monsieur, and are an adept in the science of induction; but, let me say without offence meant, that you give me the impression of being rather a romancing journalist than a judicial investigator!... Admitting that the Baroness de Vibray was carried to the painter Dollon's studio after her death, and that seems to be your opinion, what advantage would it be to the criminals to act in such a fashion?"

Jerome Fandor had risen, his eyes shining, his body vibrating with excitement.

"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.