The Golden Triangle Part 59

"Oh, please! I'm longing to kill him, but I must first know his name."

"Well, then . . ."

There was a long silence between the two men, as they stood close together, looking into each other's eyes. Then Lupin let fall these four syllables:

"Essares Bey."

Patrice felt a shock that ran through him from head to foot. Not for a second did he try to understand by what prodigy this revelation came to be merely an expression of the truth. He instantly accepted this truth, as though it were undeniable and proved by the most evident facts. The man was Essares Bey and had killed his father. He had killed him, so to speak, twice over: first years ago, in the lodge in the garden, taking from him all the light of life and any reason for living; and again the other day, in the library, when Armand Belval had telephoned to his son.

This time Patrice was determined to do the deed. His eyes expressed an indomitable resolution. His father's murderer, Coralie's murderer, must die then and there. His duty was clear and precise. The terrible Essares was doomed to die by the hand of the son and the bridegroom.

"Say your prayers," said Patrice, coldly. "In ten seconds you will be a dead man."

He counted out the seconds and, at the tenth, was about to fire, when his enemy, in an access of mad energy proving that, under the outward appearance of old Simeon, there was hidden a man still young and vigorous, shouted with a violence so extraordinary that it made Patrice hesitate:

"Very well, kill me! . . . Yes, let it be finished! . . . I am beaten: I accept defeat. But it is a victory all the same, because Coralie is dead and my gold is saved! . . . I shall die, but n.o.body shall have either one or the other, the woman whom I love or the gold that was my life.

Ah, Patrice, Patrice, the woman whom we both loved to distraction is no longer alive . . . or else she is dying without a possibility of saving her now. If I cannot have her, you shall not have her either, Patrice.

My revenge has done its work. Coralie is lost!"

He had recovered a fierce energy and was shouting and stammering at the same time. Patrice stood opposite him, holding him covered with the revolver, ready to act, but still waiting to hear the terrible words that tortured him.

"She is lost, Patrice!" Simeon continued, raising his voice still louder. "Lost! There's nothing to be done! And you will not find even her body in the bowels of the earth, where I buried her with the bags of gold. Under the tombstone? No, not such a fool! No, Patrice, you will never find her. The gold is stifling her. She's dead! Coralie is dead!

Oh, the delight of throwing that in your face! The anguish you must be feeling! Coralie is dead! Coralie is dead!"

"Don't shout so, you'll wake her," said Don Luis, calmly.

The brief sentence was followed by a sort of stupor which paralyzed the two adversaries. Patrice's arms dropped to his sides. Simeon turned giddy and sank into a chair. Both of them, knowing the things of which Don Luis was capable, knew what he meant.

But Patrice wanted something more than a vague sentence that might just as easily be taken as a jest. He wanted a certainty.

"Wake her?" he asked, in a broken voice.

"Well, of course!" said Don Luis. "When you shout too loud, you wake people up."

"Then she's alive?"

"You can't wake the dead, whatever people may say. You can only wake the living."

"Coralie is alive! Coralie is alive!" Patrice repeated, in a sort of rapture that transfigured his features. "Can it be possible? But then she must be here! Oh, I beg of you, say you're in earnest, give me your word! . . . Or no, it's not true, is it? I can't believe it . . . you must be joking. . . ."

"Let me answer you, captain, as I answered that wretch just now. You are admitting that it is possible for me to abandon my work before completing it. How little you know me! What I undertake to do I do.

It's one of my habits and a good one at that. That's why I cling to it.

Now watch me."

He turned to one side of the room. Opposite the hanging that covered the door by which Patrice had entered was a second curtain, concealing another door. He lifted the curtain.

"No, no, she's not there," said Patrice, in an almost inaudible voice.

"I dare not believe it. The disappointment would be too great. Swear to me . . ."

"I swear nothing, captain. You have only to open your eyes. By Jove, for a French officer, you're cutting a pretty figure! Why, you're as white as a sheet! Of course it's she! It's Little Mother Coralie! Look, she's in bed asleep, with two nurses to watch her. But there's no danger; she's not wounded. A bit of a temperature, that's all, and extreme weakness. Poor Little Mother Coralie! I never could have imagined her in such a state of exhaustion and coma."

Patrice had stepped forward, br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with joy. Don Luis stopped him:

"That will do, captain. Don't go any nearer. I brought her here, instead of taking her home, because I thought a change of scene and atmosphere essential. But she must have no excitement. She's had her share of that; and you might spoil everything by showing yourself."

"You're right," said Patrice. "But are you quite sure . . . ?"

"That she's alive?" asked Don Luis, laughing. "She's as much alive as you or I and quite ready to give you the happiness you deserve and to change her name to Mme. Patrice Belval. You must have just a little patience, that's all. And there is yet one obstacle to overcome, captain, for remember she's a married woman!"

He closed the door and led Patrice back to Essares Bey:

"There's the obstacle, captain. Is your mind made up now? This wretch still stands between you and your Coralie."

Essares had not even glanced into the next room, as though he knew that there could be no doubt about Don Luis' word. He sat s.h.i.+vering in his chair, cowering, weak and helpless.

"You don't seem comfortable," said Don Luis. "What's worrying you?

You're frightened, perhaps? What for? I promise you that we will do nothing except by mutual consent and until we are all of the same opinion. That ought to cheer you up. We'll be your judges, the three of us, here and now. Captain Patrice Belval, a.r.s.ene Lupin and old Simeon will form the court. Let the trial begin. Does any one wish to speak in defense of the prisoner at the bar, Essares Bey? No one. The prisoner at the bar is sentenced to death. Extenuating circ.u.mstances? No notice of appeal? No. Commutation of sentence? No. Reprieve? No. Immediate execution? Yes. You see, there's no delay. What about the means of death? A revolver-shot? That will do. It's clean, quick work. Captain Belval, your bird. The gun's loaded. Here you are."

Patrice did not move. He stood gazing at the foul brute who had done him so many injuries. His whole being seethed with hatred. Nevertheless, he replied:

"I will not kill that man."

"I agree, captain. Your scruples do you honor. You have not the right to kill a man whom you know to be the husband of the woman you love. It is not for you to remove the obstacle. Besides, you hate taking life. So do I. This animal is too filthy for words. And so, my good man, there's no one left but yourself to help us out of this delicate position."

Don Luis ceased speaking for a moment and leant over Essares. Had the wretched man heard? Was he even alive? He looked as if he were in a faint, deprived of consciousness.

Don Luis shook him by the shoulder.

"The gold," moaned Essares, "the bags of gold . . ."

"Oh, you're thinking of that, you old scoundrel, are you? You're still interested? The bags of gold are in my pocket . . . if a pocket can contain eighteen hundred bags of gold."

"The hiding-place?"

"Your hiding-place? It doesn't exist, so far as I'm concerned. I needn't prove it to you, need I, since Coralie's here? As Coralie was buried among the bags of gold, you can draw your own conclusion. So you're nicely done. The woman you wanted is free and, what is worse still, free by the side of the man whom she adores and whom she will never leave.

And, on the other hand, your treasure is discovered. So it's all finished, eh? We are agreed? Come, here's the toy that will release you."

He handed him the revolver. Essares took it mechanically and pointed it at Don Luis; but his arm lacked the strength to take aim and fell by his side.

"Capital!" said Don Luis. "We understand each other; and the action which you are about to perform will atone for your evil life, you old blackguard. When a man's last hope is dispelled, there's nothing for it but death. That's the final refuge."

He took hold of the other's hand and, bending Essares' nerveless fingers round the revolver, forced him to point it towards his own face.

"Come," said he, "just a little pluck. What you've resolved to do is a very good thing. As Captain Belval and I refuse to disgrace ourselves by killing you, you've decided to do the job yourself. We are touched; and we congratulate you. But you must behave with courage. No resistance, come! That's right, that's much more like it. Once more, my compliments.

It's very smart, your manner of getting out of it. You perceive that there's no room for you on earth, that you're standing in the way of Patrice and Coralie and that the best thing you can do is to retire. And you're jolly well right! No love and no gold! No gold, Simeon! The beautiful s.h.i.+ny coins which you coveted, with which you would have managed to secure a nice, comfortable existence, all fled, vanished! You may just as well vanish yourself, what?"

Whether because he felt himself to be helpless or because he really understood that Don Luis was right and that his life was no longer worth living, Simeon offered hardly any resistance. The revolver rose to his forehead. The barrel touched his temple.