The Eight Strokes of the Clock Maurice Leblanc (android e book reader .txt) đ
- Author: Maurice Leblanc
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Jean Louis stood perplexed and undecided. RĂ©nine turned to the two women:
âThat is your opinion too, I am sure, ladies?â
They nodded.
âYou see, monsieur,â he said to Jean Louis, âwe are all agreed. In great crises, there is nothing like separationâ ââ ⊠a few daysâ respite. Quickly now, monsieur.â
And, without giving him time to hesitate, he drove him towards his bedroom to pack up.
Half an hour later, Jean Louis left the manor-house with his new friends.
âAnd he wonât go back until heâs married,â said RĂ©nine to Hortense, as they were waiting at Carhaix station, to which the car had taken them, while Jean Louis was attending to his luggage. âEverythingâs for the best. Are you satisfied?â
âYes, GeneviĂšve will be glad,â she replied, absently.
When they had taken their seats in the train, RĂ©nine and she repaired to the dining-car. RĂ©nine, who had asked Hortense several questions to which she had replied only in monosyllables, protested:
âWhatâs the matter with you, my child? You look worried!â
âI? Not at all!â
âYes, yes, I know you. Now, no secrets, no mysteries!â
She smiled:
âWell, since you insist on knowing if I am satisfied, I am bound to admit that of course I amâ ââ ⊠as regards my friend GeneviĂšve, but that, in another respectâ âfrom the point of view of the adventureâ âI have an uncomfortable sort of feeling.â ââ âŠâ
âTo speak frankly, I havenât âstaggeredâ you this time?â
âNot very much.â
âI seem to you to have played a secondary part. For, after all, what have I done? We arrived. We listened to Jean Louisâ tale of woe. I had a midwife fetched. And that was all.â
âExactly. I want to know if that was all; and Iâm not quite sure. To tell you the truth, our other adventures left behind them an impression which wasâ âhow shall I put it?â âmore definite, clearer.â
âAnd this one strikes you as obscure?â
âObscure, yes, and incomplete.â
âBut in what way?â
âI donât know. Perhaps it has something to do with that womanâs confession. Yes, very likely that is it. It was all so unexpected and so short.â
âWell, of course, I cut it short, as you can readily imagine!â said RĂ©nine, laughing. âWe didnât want too many explanations.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âWhy, if she had given her explanations with too much detail, we should have ended by doubting what she was telling us.â
âBy doubting it?â
âWell, hang it all, the story is a trifle farfetched! That fellow arriving at night, with a live baby in his pocket, and going away with a dead one: the thing hardly holds water. But you see, my dear, I hadnât much time to coach the unfortunate woman in her part.â
Hortense stared at him in amazement:
âWhat on earth do you mean?â
âWell, you know how dull-witted these countrywomen are. And she and I had no time to spare. So we worked out a little scene in a hurryâ ââ ⊠and she really didnât act it so badly. It was all in the right key: terror, tremolo, tears.â ââ âŠâ
âIs it possible?â murmured Hortense. âIs it possible? You had seen her beforehand?â
âI had to, of course.â
âBut when?â
âThis morning, when we arrived. While you were titivating yourself at the hotel at Carhaix, I was running round to see what information I could pick up. As you may imagine, everybody in the district knows the dâImbleval-Vaurois story. I was at once directed to the former midwife, Mlle. Boussignol. With Mlle. Boussignol it did not take long. Three minutes to settle a new version of what had happened and ten thousand francs to induce her to repeat thatâ ââ ⊠more or less credibleâ ââ ⊠version to the people at the manor-house.â
âA quite incredible version!â
âNot so bad as all that, my child, seeing that you believed itâ ââ ⊠and the others too. And that was the essential thing. What I had to do was to demolish at one blow a truth which had been twenty-seven years in existence and which was all the more firmly established because it was founded on actual facts. That was why I went for it with all my might and attacked it by sheer force of eloquence. Impossible to identify the children? I deny it. Inevitable confusion? Itâs not true. âYouâre all three,â I say, âthe victims of something which I donât know but which it is your duty to clear up!â âThatâs easily done,â says Jean Louis, whose conviction is at once shaken. âLetâs send for Mlle. Boussignol.â âRight! Letâs send for her.â Whereupon Mlle. Boussignol arrives and mumbles out the little speech which I have taught her. Sensation! General stupefactionâ ââ ⊠of which I take advantage to carry off our young man!â
Hortense shook her head:
âBut theyâll get over it, all three of them, on thinking!â
âNever! Never! They will have their doubts, perhaps. But they will never consent to feel certain! They will never agree to think! Use your imagination! Here are three people whom I have rescued from the hell in which they have been floundering for a quarter of a century. Do you think theyâre going back to it? Here are three people who, from weakness or a false sense of duty, had not the courage to escape. Do you think that they wonât cling like grim death to the liberty which Iâm giving them? Nonsense! Why, they would have swallowed a hoax twice as difficult to digest as that which Mlle. Boussignol dished up for them! After all, my version was no more absurd than the truth. On the contrary. And they swallowed it whole! Look at this: before we left, I heard Madame dâImbleval and Madame Vaurois speak of an immediate removal. They were already becoming quite affectionate at the thought of seeing the last of each other.â
âBut what about Jean Louis?â
âJean Louis? Why, he was fed up with his two mothers! By Jingo, one canât do with two mothers in a lifetime! What a situation! And when
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