Messengers of Evil Part 34

"That is most kind of you! They told you, did they not, that she had gone out? I think she will not be absent long, for I have an appointment with her. But, if you will allow me, I will go to the office and ask if they have the least idea of which way she has gone, for I have little time to spare, and if we could go to meet her, it would save, at least, a few minutes...."

Jerome Fandor rose and went towards one of the drawing-room doors.

"You are making a mistake," said Monsieur Nanteuil, "the office is this way," and he pointed to another door.

"Bah! All roads lead to Rome!" With that, Fandor went out by the door he had approached first....

"They are nice fellows," said Fandor to himself. "If Elizabeth Dollon is really not in!... but... Is she really not in the house? I am by no means sure.... If she feels timid at the idea of seeing the bankers--their visit may have made her nervous, considering the state she is in ... she might have sent to say she was not at home in order to have time to add some finis.h.i.+ng touches to her toilette."

Fandor, who knew the house, mounted the little staircase leading to the first floor. Elizabeth's room was on this floor. Before her door he stopped and sniffed.

"Queer smell!" he murmured. "It smells like gas!"

He knocked boldly, calling:

"Mademoiselle Elizabeth! It is I, Fandor!"

The smell of gas became more p.r.o.nounced as he waited.

A horrible idea, an agonising fear, flashed through his mind.

He knocked as hard as he could on the door.

"Mademoiselle Elizabeth! Mademoiselle!"

No answer.

He called down the stairs:

"Waiter!... Porter!"

But apparently the one and only manservant the house boasted was occupied elsewhere, for no one answered.

Fandor returned to the door of Elizabeth's room, knelt down and tried to look through the keyhole. The inside key was there, which seemed to confirm his agonising fear.

"She has not gone out then?"

He took a deep breath.

"What a horrible smell of gas!"

This time he did not hesitate. He rose, stepped back, sprang forward, and with a vigorous push from the shoulder, he drove the door off its hinges.

"My G.o.d!" he shouted.

In the centre of the room, Fandor had just seen Elizabeth Dollon lying unconscious. A tube, detached from a portable gas stove, was between her tightly closed lips! The tap was turned full on. He flung himself on his knees near the poor girl, pulled away the deadly tube, and put his ear to her heart.

What joy, what happiness, he felt when he heard, very feeble but quite unmistakable beatings of Elizabeth's heart!

"She lives!" What unspeakable relief Jerome Fandor felt! What thankfulness!

The noise he had made breaking the door off its hinges brought the whole household running to the spot. As the manservant, followed by Madame Bourrat, followed in turn by Monsieur Barbey and Nanteuil, appeared in the doorway uttering cries of terror, Jerome called out:

"No one is to come in!... It is an accident!"

Then lifting Elizabeth in his strong arms, he carried her out of the room.

"What she needs is air!"

He hurried downstairs and out into the garden with his precious burden, followed by the terrified witnesses of the scene.

"You have saved her life, monsieur!" cried Madame Bourrat in a tragic voice. She groaned. "Oh, what a scandal!"

"Yes, I have saved her," replied Fandor as, panting with his exertions, he laid Elizabeth Dollon flat on a garden seat.... "But from whom?... It is certainly not attempted suicide! There is some mystery behind this business: it's a regular theatrical performance arranged simply for effect, and to mislead us," declared Fandor. Then, turning to the bankers, he said courteously but with an air of command:

"Please lay information with the superintendent of police at once ...

the nearest police station, you understand!"

"Madame," he said, addressing the overwhelmed Madame Bourrat, "you will be good enough to look after Mademoiselle Dollon, will you not?... Take every care of her. There is not much to be done, however! I have seen many cases of commencing asphyxia: she will regain consciousness now, in a few minutes."

Then, looking at the manservant, he said in a sharp tone:

"Come with me! You will mount guard at the door of Mademoiselle Elizabeth's room, whilst I try to discover some clues, before the police arrive on the scene."

To tell the truth, our young journalist felt embarra.s.sed at the idea that Elizabeth Dollon was about to regain consciousness, and that he would have to submit to being thanked by her, when she knew who had saved her.

Accompanied by the manservant, he went quickly upstairs and into Elizabeth's room.

"You must not enter Mademoiselle Dollon's room on any account!" said Fandor sternly. "It is quite enough that I should run the risk of effacing the, probably very slight, clues which the delinquents have left behind them...."

"But, monsieur, if the young lady put the tubing between her lips, it must have been because she wished to destroy herself!"

"On the face of it you are right, my good fellow. But, when one is right, one is often wrong!"

Without more ado, Fandor started on a minute inspection of the room.

Elizabeth had but stated the truth when she wrote that it had been thoroughly ransacked. Only her toilet things had been spared; but some books had been taken from their shelves and thrown about the floor, their pages crumpled and spoilt. He noticed the emptied trunk: its contents--copy books, letters, pieces of music--had been roughly dealt with. On the mantelpiece, in full view, lay Elizabeth's jewellery--some rings and brooches, a small gold watch, a purse.

"A very queer affair," murmured Fandor, who was kneeling in the middle of the room, rummaging, searching, and not finding any clue. He rose, carefully examined all the woodwork, but found nothing incriminating. He examined the lock of the unhinged door, which had subsided on the floor.

The lock was intact, the bolt moved freely: the screws only of the staple had given way.

"That," thought Fandor, "is probably owing to the force of my thrust!"

The window fastening was intact: the window closed.

"If the robbers," reflected Fandor, "got into a closed room, they must have used false keys."

Having examined the means of access to the room, Fandor started on a still more minute examination of the interior. He scrutinised the furniture and the slight powdering of dust on each article: in vain!...

Then the washstand had its turn: nothing!... He scrutinised the soap.