Maurice Leblanc - The Woman of Mystery

Paul spent the whole of that evening and the whole of the next day, Wednesday the 13th, in making prolonged searches in the streets of the town or along the banks of the Aisne. He had placed himself in communication with the military authorities. Officers and men took part in his investigations. They went over several houses and questioned a number of the inhabitants.

Bernard offered to go with him; but Paul persisted in refusing:

"No. It is true, the woman doesn't know you; but she must not see your sister. I am asking you therefore to stay with Elisabeth, to keep her from going out and to watch over her without a moment's intermission, for we have to do with the most terrible enemy imaginable."

The brother and sister therefore passed the long hours of that day with their faces glued to the window-panes. Paul came back at intervals to snatch a meal. He was quivering with hope.

"She's here," he said. "She must have left those who were with her in the motor car, dropped her nurse's disguise and is now hiding in some hole, like a spider behind its web. I can see her, telephone in hand, giving her orders to a whole band of people, who have taken to earth like herself and made them[Pg 305]selves invisible like her. But I am beginning to perceive her plan and I have one advantage over her, which is that she believes herself in safety. She does not know that her accomplice, Karl, is dead. She does not know of Elisabeth's release. She does not know of our presence here. I've got her, the loathsome beast, I've got her."

The news of the battle, meanwhile, was not improving. The retreating movement on the left bank continued. At Crouy, the severity of their losses and the depth of the mud stopped the rush of the Moroccan troops. A hurriedly-constructed pontoon bridge went drifting down-stream.

When Paul made his next appearance, at six o'clock in the evening, there were a few drops of blood on his sleeve. Elisabeth took alarm.

"It's nothing," he said, with a laugh. "A scratch; I don't know how I got it."

"But your hand; look at your hand. You're bleeding!"

"No, it's not my blood. Don't be frightened. Everything's all right."

Bernard said:

"You know the commander-in-chief came to Soissons this morning."

"Yes, so it seems. All the better. I should like to make him a present of the spy and her gang. It would be a handsome gift."

He went away for another hour and then came back and had dinner.

[Pg 306]"You look as though you were sure of things now," said Bernard.

"One can never be sure of anything. That woman is the very devil."

"But you know where she's hiding?"

"Yes."

"And what are you waiting for?"

"I'm waiting for nine o'clock. I shall take a rest till then. Wake me up at a little before nine."

The guns never ceased booming in the distant darkness. Sometimes a shell would fall on the town with a great crash. Troops passed in every direction. Then there would be brief intervals of silence, in which the sounds of war seemed to hang in suspense; and it was those minutes which perhaps were most formidable and significant.

Paul woke of himself. He said to his wife and Bernard:

"You know, you're coming, too. It will be rough work, Elisabeth, very rough work. Are you certain that you're equal to it?"

"Oh, Paul… But you yourself are looking so pale."

"Yes," he said, "it's the excitement. Not because of what is going to happen. But, in spite of all my precautions, I shall be afraid until the last moment that the adversary will escape. A single act of carelessness, a stroke of ill-luck that gives the alarm… and I shall have to begin all over again… Never mind about your revolver, Bernard."

[Pg 307]"What!" cried Bernard. "Isn't there going to be any fighting in this expedition of yours?"

Paul did not reply. According to his custom, he expressed himself during or after action. Bernard took his revolver.

The last stroke of nine sounded as they crossed the Grande Place, amid a darkness stabbed here and there by a thin ray of light issuing from a closed shop. A group of soldiers were massed in the forecourt of the cathedral, whose shadowy bulk they felt looming overhead.

Paul flashed the light from an electric lamp upon them and asked the one in command:

"Any news, sergeant?"

"No, sir. No one has entered the house and no one has gone out."

The sergeant gave a low whistle. In the middle of the street, two men emerged from the surrounding gloom and approached the group.

"Any sound in the house?"

"No, sergeant."

"Any light behind the shutters?"

"No, sergeant."

Then Paul marched ahead and, while the others, in obedience to his instructions, followed him without making the least noise, he stepped on resolutely, like a belated wayfarer making for home.

They stopped at a narrow-fronted house, the ground-floor of which was hardly distinguishable in the darkness of the night. Three steps led to the[Pg 308] door. Paul gave four sharp taps and, at the same time, took a key from his pocket and opened the door.

He switched on his electric lamp again in the passage and, while his companions continued as silent as before, turned to a mirror which rose straight from the flagged floor. He gave four little taps on the mirror and then pushed it, pressing one side of it. It masked the aperture of a staircase which led to the basement; and Paul sent the light of his lantern down the well.

This appeared to be a signal, the third signal agreed upon, for a voice from below, a woman's voice, but hoarse and rasping in its tones, asked:

"Is that you, Daddy Walter?"

The moment had come to act. Without answering, Paul rushed down the stairs, taking four steps at a time. He reached the bottom just as a massive door was closing, almost barring his access to the cellar.

He gave a strong push and entered.

The Comtesse Hermine was there, in the semi-darkness, motionless, hesitating what to do.

Then suddenly she ran to the other end of the cellar, seized a revolver on the table, turned round and fired.

The hammer clicked, but there was no report.

She repeated the action three times; and the result, was three times the same.

"It's no use going on," said Paul, with a laugh. "The charge has been removed."

[Pg 309]The countess uttered a cry of rage, opened the drawer of the table and, taking another revolver, pulled the trigger four times, without producing a sound.

"You may as well drop it," laughed Paul. "This one has been emptied, too; and so has the one in the other drawer: so have all the firearms in the house, for that matter."

Then, when she stared at him in amazement, without understanding, dazed by her own helplessness, he bowed and introduced himself, just in two words, which meant so much:

"Paul Delroze."

[Pg 310]

The cellar, though smaller, looked like one of those large vaulted basement halls which prevail in the Champagne district. Walls spotlessly clean, a smooth floor with brick paths running across it, a warm atmosphere, a curtained-off recess between two wine vats, chairs, benches and rugs all went to form not only a comfortable abode, out of the way of the shells, but also a safe refuge for any one who stood in fear of indiscreet visits.

Paul remembered the ruins of the old lighthouse on the bank of the Yser and the tunnel from Ornequin to Ebrecourt. So the struggle was still continuing underground: a war of trenches and cellars, a war of spying and trickery, the same unvarying, stealthy, disgraceful, suspicious, criminal methods.

Paul had put out his lantern, and the room was now only dimly lit by an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, whose rays, thrown downward by an opaque shade, cast a white circle in which the two of them stood by themselves. Elisabeth and Bernard remained in the background, in the shadow.