Collected works of gasto.., p.97
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux, page 97
“All the same, as I believed that they would go to extremities only as a last resource, if they ever made up their minds to act, I was left with some freedom of mind, all the more so as I imagined that I had succeeded since the night before in getting rid of ‘these gentlemen. But the sight of the man who resembled Tamar, followed by his companion’s entrance into my carriage, gave me food for further reflection.
“Tamar might well have painted his face and disguised himself as I myself had done; moreover, this odd-looking passenger was no stranger to me.
“He bowed, took his seat, and with his soft eyes fixed calmly on mine, asked my permission to pull the window up. I recognized his voice which I certainly had not heard for some considerable time. He spoke with a slight Belgian accent.... Where, therefore, had I seen him before? Where?
“At that moment a waiter from the restaurant-car passed through and informed us that the first service of dinner was ready. Though I had not booked a seat I straightway sprang up. I needed to be away from that man for a few minutes in order to collect my thoughts. I stole into the corridor, and had reached one of the gangways which connect one carriage with the other, when a slight jolt of the train threw me against a passenger who, like myself, was on his way to the restaurant-car. I uttered an apology and partly turned round. It was my ungainly companion!
“On reaching my objective without further incident I waited for him to take his place in order to sit at another table, but every seat was reserved with the exception of the one facing him. Obviously my luck was out! Not only was I doomed to sleep in the same car as this man, but I had to dine opposite him! Do what he would to assume an air of indifference towards me, I regarded him with ever-increasing suspicion.
“I sat down and unfolded my table napkin. And just then I made the gesture which is instinctively made by persons carrying large sums of money on them, who press the upper part of their arm to their chest to assure themselves that the ‘stuff’ is still there. Now it came upon me like a revelation that I no longer possessed my pocket-book — the pocket-book in which I had placed the letter from Roland Boulenger to Théodora Luigi.
“At that very instant a name flashed in letters of fire across my mind: Leopold Drack!
“And before my eyes there rose a scene which was enacted some twelve years before. In a small room at the Headquarters of Police, some thirty detectives and a number of high officials of the Government were assembled, and Leopold Drack, one of the cleverest pickpockets who had ever lived, having made a fortune in America and retired from business, was giving a wonderful demonstration of his powers. He disclosed with the utmost goodwill his numerous dodges, employing his experience in the defence of that property which he formerly used to plunder.
“It was a delightful and astounding spectacle, like a very successful sleight of hand entertainment provided by a distinguished master of the art, who performed the most complicated feats without anyone being able to suspect the least effort — and performed them with a smile. Only Leopold Drack did not smile. He talked to you. In a monotonous and drawling voice he told you some story or other, asked you the most ordinary questions which surprised you by their very triviality, and your pocket was picked before you had time to answer him. Meantime he did not remove his eyes from you, but fixing you with his soft, calm, slightly fatuous gaze, offered you a cigarette, or asked you for a light or to tell him the time.
“I had been informed of the meeting by a friend in the Detective Service, and had slipped into the room without attracting the least attention from any one; and I left it again without being seen by Drack. And this was the man whom they had let loose on me! His job was already done. It had not taken him long. I was cornered.
“And yet the power which lies within me in crucial moments did not fail me. Nothing betrayed my consternation, not to say my despair. I began my dinner with a good appetite and, in truth, we chatted together in the most natural manner. We found ourselves in agreement on a number of commonplace subjects, and, it would seem, possessed the same taste for the older form of comic opera. Without actually becoming friends, we got on very comfortably together. We introduced ourselves. He described himself as the representative of a firm of champagne merchants, and insisted on my savouring his particular brand which I appreciated in the manner of a connoisseur. He even paid the bill before I could raise any objection.
“For that matter I did not insist because I had just discovered that I hadn’t enough change in my pocket, and I should have to feel for my pocket-book, a gesture which more than anything else I was anxious to avoid. As his generosity must have been dictated to a great extent by his fear, which was at least equal to mine, lest I should make the move, everything turned out for the best, and he could imagine that I was still ignorant of my discomfiture.
“When we left the restaurant-car I took good care to let him go ahead of me, but there was some amount of jostling at the door, and I was for a moment cut off from him. A few seconds later, as he was entering our compartment, I was again on his heels. We chatted for about half an hour. My scheme was a simple one. I made up my mind that when we were shut up in our carriage for the night, I would put my revolver against his forehead and insist upon the return of my pocket-book; but things fell out differently as you will see, and, I dare say, it was just as well, because any act of violence which he must have reckoned on, would perhaps have spoilt everything, particularly as he could have got rid of my pocket-book by then, after securing the letter.
“I reached this point in my reflections when I had the consciousness that my pocket-book was back again in my coat pocket.
“And so he had rid himself of my pocket-book by returning it to my coat pocket! I had no say in the matter.
“But where was the letter now? Of course it must be in his own pocket-book!
“I no longer gave way to despair, for after all I now had an advantage over my pickpocket inasmuch as he assumed that I was unaware of the theft, and I was in an excellent position to rob him in my turn.
“I believe that I played here one of the most astute games of my life; a game in which the expression of complete and almost imbecile absence of suspicion which I assumed to hide my mad fears, was not the least remarkable part of the performance. So much so, indeed, that my man was caught by it. He went to bed first, for I was determined not to leave him alone in the corridor nor to allow him out of my sight.
“When I, too, undressed I had the satisfaction of perceiving that he did not hang his jacket on the ordinary clothes’ peg. My pickpocket was to sleep in the berth above mine, and I could see from a glance in the wash-stand looking-glass, that he was rolling up his coat in what I may call his recess, in the rack within reach of his hand. Undoubtedly he was smarter with his hands than I was, but from the point of view of psychological insight he was a simpleton.
“Five minutes later, after taking all sorts of precautions — which I intended should not pass unobserved — to protect my pocket-book in the rack set aside for me in my berth, so as to make him believe that I still attached the greatest importance to it, I wished him ‘Good night,’ and conscientiously began to snore.
“He did not fall asleep until we came to Mâcon. I took a considerable time and every possible care to assure myself of that; but I was not absolutely certain until I had finished my delicate operation. I stirred as little as might be, and yet never in my life had such an icy perspiration covered my whole body. The slow distortion of one’s movements is a tremendous work, and inflicts upon one the worst of martyrdoms.
“At last I got the jacket and the pocket-book, and when the train pulled up at Lyons I was in possession of my letter. It was none too soon for the shouts of the porters and the commotion at the station woke up my man.
“He could hear that my snores had lost nothing of their regularity. When we left Lyons he turned his face to the partition and fell asleep again without apparently having noticed anything amiss.
“I had sworn to myself to keep awake. After my experience with the pocket-book you will readily believe that I did not put the letter in it again. The letter was folded in a double sheet of paper and enclosed in an envelope which was more or less void of gum. Moreover, I did not close the envelope because when I was alone I frequently took the letter out in order to study it closely, which enabled me, whenever I did so, to discover some new feature in it. Therefore I kept the envelope in my hand.
“My hand lay under my pillow for I was in the habit of sleeping on my face with my arms folded under the pillow as if I were going to devour it, and in this way I had the feeling of falling asleep more quickly, and of making the most of the time at my disposal. But, I repeat, I was determined to keep awake. Unfortunately, I forgot that for three nights I had been a stranger to a bed, and for three nights my head had not touched a pillow.... I was hungering after it. Hardly knowing what I did, I savoured a little of it and then a great deal. It was soft... and sweet! Like Hannibal at Capua I succumbed to sleep in the moment of victory.
“When I woke up the first streaks of dawn were filtering through the drawn curtains of the windows, and a man in a night-shirt was standing beside my berth. In a flash I realized the position. I was annoyed with myself for giving way to my weakness, but a slight twitching of my hand, which still held the envelope, reassured me.
“I must have stirred a limb as I awoke for the man in the night-shirt quickly disappeared into the dressing-room, taking his bag with him and, moreover, with every precaution of silence.
“I again fingered my envelope. I was now fully awake, and it seemed to me that it contained something new, in the sense that it was less solid than before. I tried to slip my finger into it, but owing, doubtless, to the warmth of my hand the envelope had become stuck. I tore it open. The double sheet of paper was there but the letter had vanished.
“Clearly my ungainly friend was not so simple as he looked nor so destitute of psychological insight as I had assumed. He must have discovered when he awoke at Lyons and cast a first glance at the rack, that his clothes had been disturbed, and he had ‘taken me in’ by turning his face to the partition and pretending to sleep while I did in fact fall soundly asleep.
“By Jove! he was a foeman worthy of my steel! I had won the first bout. He had carried off the second. Which of us would win the rubber?
“Nevertheless the game was becoming tremendously difficult for me now that I knew that he knew that I knew he had the letter. And I had none too much time before me in which to wrest it from him again, if indeed the thing was still possible.
“I pretended to be still sleeping, and I did not really rouse myself until he returned from the dressing-room with his bag. I acted in such a way that he could not miss any of my movements which was less difficult for me than to conceal them from him. He could watch me out of the corner of his eye, hastily putting away the envelope which I had just taken from under the pillow as if I still believed that I possessed something worth looking after.
“All the same I doubted if he would be deceived by so indifferent a farce. As far as I was concerned, all my faculties were on the alert guessing what he had done with the letter. I must have woke up just as he was replacing the envelope in my hand. To my thinking, his abrupt departure showed that he was taken by surprise, and I fully believed that he went into the dressing-room with the precious missive in his hand. Otherwise, when I stirred for the first time, he would not have displayed so much agitation.
“Therefore he had entered the dressing-room in his night-shirt, carrying the letter and his open bag. He came out of it with his bag closed. There was every chance that the letter was in the bag. He lost no time in dressing so as to leave the place free for me.
“Meantime we indulged in the usual small talk which passes in the morning between persons who have spent the night in the same sleeping-car. We congratulated each other on a good night’s rest. Like myself the motion of the train lulled him to sleep, and he never slept so well as when he was travelling. At last he finished dressing and locking his bag went out.
“I threw myself out of my berth and bolted the door. I was alone, and it was impossible for anyone to disturb me. I rushed at the bag. None of my keys would fit it, but I possessed a small implement with which I could force a lock, and I did not stop to ask myself what would be the subsequent result of this marauding: I turned out his bag. I ransacked his things. I searched every seam. There were no secret pockets — and no letter!
“So he had kept the letter on him! At all events he had taken it away with him. I stuffed back pell-mell the belongings of this infernal Drack into his infernal bag, and I threw the bag into the corner of the rack from which I had taken it, and in five minutes I was dressed. And then, standing before the glass, I composed my features, compelling myself to smile with an air of indifference; and I sauntered into the corridor thinking that I should find my man, but no Drack was in the corridor.
“I darted like an arrow into the restaurant-car. Drack was there quietly sipping his morning coffee.
“This time I did not shrink from him, and I was very glad to perceive that my place facing him was unoccupied. I took my seat. He smiled at me and I smiled at him. We wore the look of two men who were well pleased with ourselves and each other.
“I knew that he knew that I knew. He knew also that I knew that he knew. What a dramatic situation! Here were two men who since the night before were robbing each other in turn, though nothing in their demeanour or their language betrayed either their secret thoughts or the joy of victory, the chagrin of defeat, or the frantic hope of revenge.
“I ordered a couple of fried eggs. He buttered his toast. We were nearing Avignon. I had, perhaps, another twenty minutes before me.
“‘Are you feeling the heat?’ he asked.
“I was feeling the heat, and great beads of perspiration broke over my forehead. I threw my cap into the rack beside his cap.
“‘The temperature of these carriages is kept too high,’ I declared.
“‘That depends upon one’s constitution,’ he said. ‘For my part, I am never too hot. Will you allow me?’
“So saying he took his cap and planted it securely on his head.
“I knew what I wanted to know.
“The letter lay in his cap.
“The glance which he cast at the rack when I threw my cap into it, the care which he took to put his own cap on as soon as I came up, and the very grimness with which the operation was performed — these things gave him away.
“To anyone whose nerves were on edge like mine, it was easy to gather in a flash from the expression on his face as soon as he had put the cap on that he was feeling satisfied with its safety.
“Nothing escaped my attention, not even the slight effort that he had to make to put his cap on due doubtless to its newly caused tightness.
“A minute later I read as in an open book the challenge intended for me alone which gleamed in his two great, wide-open eyes, whose apparent serenity seemed to set me at defiance:
“‘The letter is there right enough. Come and fetch it.’
“All of a sudden I accepted the contest. It was as swift as lightning.
“I had just paid the bill for my breakfast, and he had settled his. The train was already slackening speed and we were about to enter Avignon station.
“I sprang to my feet. He was still seated.
“I took my cap from the rack. It was of a check pattern like his own, and you could mistake one for the other almost in good faith. Suddenly throwing mine on the table, with a brusque gesture I grabbed the cap on his head.
“He uttered a cry, stood up, wild-eyed.
“‘I beg your pardon, but you’ve taken the wrong cap, Monsieur,’ I said with a quiet smile.
“‘Not a bit of it,’ he shouted, making a rush at me.
“But I had foreseen his movement and I retreated sufficiently to keep the precious cap out of his reach. Passengers rose, gathered round and came between us, laughing over the ludicrous and incomprehensible spectacle of a passenger shaking with rage over a cap, his calm eyes of a few minutes before flashing fire, while his serene red face was like a red-hot cannon-ball about to burst into flame!
“I myself grew increasingly calm for two passengers stood between us. And opening the cap I said:
“‘This cap is unquestionably mine, and as it was a little too large I put a letter in the lining. Here it is. If this gentleman wishes me to give him the exact wording of the letter I will repeat it, and every person present will be able to judge for himself which of us has made a mistake.’
“These last words had the effect of quieting Drack at once. It was as though the red-hot ball had been plunged into an icy stream for it did not burst. He looked at my cap, and admitted in a grumbling voice that he was mistaken and that the cap was really his.
“The incident ended in laughter. The train came to a stand at Avignon. I leapt on to the platform with my treasure on my head.
“A few minutes later I was out of the station, having left my luggage behind, and while my Drack was hunting for me in the train from Port Bou, I was seated in a motor-car which, at a considerable expenditure of gold, was taking me to Marseilles at over fifty miles an hour.... But in truth I did feel the heat!”
CHAPTER XIX
