The Secret of Sarek Part 56

Receiving no reply, he repeated:

"Where's Francois d'Hergemont?"

Vorski no doubt considered that chance had placed an unexpected trump in his hands and that the game was perhaps not absolutely lost, for he maintained an obstinate silence.

"You refuse to answer?" asked Don Luis. "One . . . two . . . three times: do you refuse? . . . Very well!"

He gave a low whistle.

Four men appeared from a corner of the hall, four men with swarthy faces, resembling Moors. Like Don Luis, they wore jackets and sailor's caps with s.h.i.+ny peaks.

A fifth person arrived almost immediately afterwards, a wounded French officer, who had lost his right leg and wore a wooden leg in its place.

"Ah, is that you, Patrice?" said Don Luis.

He introduced him formally:

"Captain Patrice Belval, my greatest friend; Mr. Vorski, a Hun."

Then he asked:

"No news, captain? You haven't found Francois?"

"No."

"We shall have found him in an hour and then we'll be off. Are all our men on board?"

"Yes."

"Everything all right there?"

"Quite."

He turned to the three Moors:

"Pick up the Hun," he ordered, "and carry him up to the dolmen outside.

You needn't bind him: he couldn't move a limb if he tried. Oh, one minute!"

He leant over Vorski's ear:

"Before you start, have a good look at the G.o.d-Stone, between the flags in the ceiling. The ancient Druid wasn't lying to you. It _is_ the miraculous stone which people have been seeking for centuries . . . and which I discovered from a distance . . . by correspondence. Say good-bye to it, Vorski! You will never see it again, if indeed you are ever to see anything in this world."

He made a sign with his hand.

The four Moors briskly took up Vorski and carried him to the back of the hall, on the side opposite the communicating pa.s.sage.

Turning to Otto, who had stood throughout this scene without moving:

"I see that you're a reasonable fellow, Otto, and that you understand the position. You won't get up to any tricks?"

"No."

"Then we shan't touch you. You can come along without fear."

He slipped his arm through Belval's and the two walked away, talking.

They left the hall of the G.o.d-Stone through a series of three crypts, each of which was on a higher level than the one before. The last of them also led to a vestibule. At the far side of the vestibule, a ladder stood against a lightly-built wall in which an opening had been newly made. Through this they emerged into the open air, in the middle of a steep path, cut into steps, which wound about as it climbed upwards in the rock and which brought them to that part of the cliff to which Francois had taken Veronique on the previous morning. It was the Postern path. From above they saw, hanging from two iron davits, the boat in which Veronique and her son had intended to take flight. Not far away, in a little bay, was the long, tapering outline of a submarine.

Turning their backs to the sea, Don Luis and Patrice Belval continued on their way towards the semicircle of oaks and stopped near the Fairies'

Dolmen, where the Moors were waiting for them. They had set Vorski down at the foot of the tree on which his last victim had died. Nothing remained on the tree to bear witness to the abominable torture except the inscription, "V. d'H."

"Not too tired, Vorski?" asked Don Luis. "Legs feeling better?"

Vorski gave a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders.

"Yes, I know," said Don Luis. "You're pinning your faith to your last card. Still, I would have you know that I also hold a few trumps and that I have a rather artistic way of playing them. The tree behind you should be more than enough to tell you so. Would you like another instance? While you're getting muddled with all your murders and are no longer sure of the number of your victims, I bring them to life again.

Look at that man coming from the Priory. Do you see him? He's wearing a blue reefer with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, like myself. He's one of your dead men, isn't he? You locked him up in one of the torture-chambers, intending to cast him into the sea; and it was your sweet cherub of a Raynold who hurled him down before Veronique's eyes. Do you remember? Stephane Maroux his name was. He's dead, isn't he? No, not a bit of it! A wave of my magic wand; and he's alive again. Here he is. I take him by the hand.

I speak to him."

Going up to the newcomer, he shook hands with him and said:

"You see, Stephane? I told you that it would be all over at twelve o'clock precisely and that we should meet at the dolmen. Well, it is twelve o'clock precisely."

Stephane seemed in excellent health. He showed not a sign of a wound.

Vorski looked at him in dismay and stammered:

"The tutor . . . . Stephane Maroux . . . ."

"The man himself," said Don Luis. "What did you expect? Here again you behaved like an idiot. The adorable Raynold and you throw a man into the sea and don't even think of leaning over to see what becomes of him. I pick him up . . . . And don't be too badly staggered, old chap. It's only the beginning; and I have a few more tricks in my bag. Remember, I'm a pupil of the ancient Druid's! . . . Well, Stephane, where do we stand? What's the result of your search?"

"Nothing."

"Francois?"

"Not to be found."

"And All's Well? Did you send him on his master's tracks, as we arranged?"

"Yes, but he simply took me down the Postern path to Francois' boat."

"There's no hiding-place on that side?"

"Not one."

Don Luis was silent and began to pace up and down before the dolmen. He seemed to be hesitating at the last moment, before beginning the series of actions upon which he had resolved. At last, addressing Vorski, he said:

"I have no time to waste. I must leave the island in two hours. What's your price for setting Francois free at once?"

"Francois fought a duel with Raynold," Vorski replied, "and was beaten."