The Golden Triangle Part 27

"What! Simeon? Simeon Diodokis?"

"Yes. Simeon Diodokis, Essares Bey's secretary."

"He? Oh, I'll make him pay for this, the blackguard! But no, it's impossible."

"What makes you say that it's impossible?'"

"Why, because . . ."

He stopped and thought for some time, no doubt to convince himself that there was no harm in speaking. Then he finished his sentence:

"Because old Simeon was on our side."

"What's that you say?" exclaimed Patrice, whose turn it was to be surprised.

"I say and I swear that Simeon Diodokis was on our side. He was our man.

It was he who kept us informed of Essares Bey's shady tricks. It was he who rang us up at nine o'clock in the evening to tell us that Essares had lit the furnace of the old hothouses and that the signal of the sparks was going to work. It was he who opened the door to us, pretending to resist, of course, and allowed us to tie him up in the porter's lodge. It was he, lastly, who paid and dismissed the men-servants."

"But why? Why this treachery? For the sake of money?"

"No, from hatred. He bore Essares Bey a hatred that often gave us the shudders."

"What prompted it?"

"I don't know. Simeon keeps his own counsel. But it dated a long way back."

"Did he know where the gold was hidden?" asked M. Ma.s.seron.

"No. And it was not for want of hunting to find out. He never knew how the bags got out the cellar, which was only a temporary hiding-place."

"And yet they used to leave the grounds. If so, how are we to know that the same thing didn't happen this time?"

"This time we were keeping watch the whole way round outside, a thing which Simeon could not do by himself."

Patrice now put the question:

"Can you tell us nothing more about him?"

"No, I can't. Wait, though; there was one rather curious thing. On the afternoon of the great day, I received a letter in which Simeon gave me certain particulars. In the same envelope was another letter, which had evidently got there by some incredible mistake, for it appeared to be highly important."

"What did it say?" asked Patrice, anxiously.

"It was all about a key."

"Don't you remember the details?"

"Here is the letter. I kept it in order to give it back to him and warn him what he had done. Here, it's certainly his writing. . . ."

Patrice took the sheet of notepaper; and the first thing that he saw was his own name. The letter was addressed to him, as he antic.i.p.ated:

"_Patrice_,

"You will this evening receive a key. The key opens two doors midway down a lane leading to the river: one, on the right, is that of the garden of the woman you love; the other, on the left, that of a garden where I want you to meet me at nine o'clock in the morning on the 14th of April. She will be there also.

You shall learn who I am and the object which I intend to attain. You shall both hear things about the past that will bring you still closer together.

"From now until the 14th the struggle which begins to-night will be a terrible one. If anything happens to me, it is certain that the woman you love will run the greatest dangers. Watch over her, Patrice; do not leave her for an instant unprotected. But I do not intend to let anything happen to me; and you shall both know the happiness which I have been preparing for you so long.

"My best love to you."

"It's not signed," said Bournef, "but, I repeat, it's in Simeon's handwriting. As for the lady, she is obviously Mme. Essares."

"But what danger can she be running?" exclaimed Patrice, uneasily.

"Essares is dead, so there is nothing to fear."

"I wouldn't say that. He would take some killing."

"Whom can he have instructed to avenge him? Who would continue his work?"

"I can't say, but I should take no risks."

Patrice waited to hear no more. He thrust the letter into M. Ma.s.seron's hand and made his escape.

"Rue Raynouard, fast as you can," he said, springing into a taxi.

He was eager to reach his destination. The dangers of which old Simeon spoke seemed suddenly to hang over Coralie's head. Already the enemy, taking advantage of Patrice's absence, might be attacking his beloved.

And who could defend her?

"If anything happens to me," Simeon had said.

And the supposition was partly realized, since he had lost his wits.

"Come, come," muttered Patrice, "this is sheer idiocy. . . . I am fancying things. . . . There is no reason . . ."

But his mental anguish increased every minute. He reminded himself that old Simeon was still in full possession of his faculties at the time when he wrote that letter and gave the advice which it contained. He reminded himself that old Simeon had purposely informed him that the key opened the door of Coralie's garden, so that he, Patrice, might keep an effective watch by coming to her in case of need.

He saw Simeon some way ahead of him. It was growing late, and the old fellow was going home. Patrice pa.s.sed him just outside the porter's lodge and heard him humming to himself.

"Any news?" Patrice asked the soldier on duty.

"No, sir."

"Where's Little Mother Coralie?"

"She had a walk in the garden and went upstairs half an hour ago."

"Ya-Bon?"

"Ya-Bon went up with Little Mother Coralie. He should be at her door."