The Golden Triangle Maurice Leblanc (smart books to read .txt) 📖

else? For, after all, we do not know if he was at home at that time and still less if he was in his library.”

“But I do know.”

“How?”

“I telephoned to him a few minutes later and he answered. More than that, to sweep away any trace of doubt, he told me that he had rung me up but that he had been cut off.”

M. Masseron thought for a moment and then said:

“Did he go out this morning?”

“Ask Mme. Essarès.”

Without turning round, manifestly wishing to avoid Belval’s eyes, Coralie answered:

“I don’t think that he went out. The suit he was wearing at the time of his death was an indoor suit.”

“Did you see him after last night?”

“He came and knocked at my room three times this morning, between seven and nine o’clock. I did not open the door. At about eleven o’clock I started off alone; I heard him call old Siméon and tell him to go with me. Siméon caught me up in the street. That is all I know.”

A prolonged silence ensued. Each of the three was meditating upon this strange series of adventures. In the end, M. Masseron, who had realized that a man of Captain Belval’s stamp was not the sort to be easily thrust aside, spoke in the tone of one who, before coming to terms, wishes to know exactly what his adversary’s last word is likely to be:

“Let us come to the point, captain. You are building up a theory which strikes me as very vague. What is it precisely? And what are you proposing to do if I decline to accept it? I have asked you two very plain questions. Do you mind answering them?”

“I will answer them, sir, as plainly as you put them.”

He went up to the magistrate and said:

“Here, sir, is the field of battle and of attack⁠—yes, of attack, if need be⁠—which I select. A man who used to know me, who knew Mme. Essarès as a child and who was interested in both of us, a man who used to collect our portraits at different ages, who had reasons for loving us unknown to me, who sent me the key of that garden and who was making arrangements to bring us together for a purpose which he would have told us, this man was murdered at the moment when he was about to execute his plan. Now everything tells me that he was murdered by M. Essarès. I am therefore resolved to lodge an information, whatever the results of my action may be. And believe me, sir, my charge will not be hushed up. There are always means of making one’s self heard⁠ ⁠… even if I am reduced to shouting the truth from the housetops.”

M. Masseron burst out laughing:

“By Jove, captain, but you’re letting yourself go!”

“I’m behaving according to my conscience; and Mme. Essarès, I feel sure, will forgive me. She knows that I am acting for her good. She knows that all will be over with her if this case is hushed up and if the authorities do not assist her. She knows that the enemies who threaten her are implacable. They will stop at nothing to attain their object and to do away with her, for she stands in their way. And the terrible thing about it is that the most clear-seeing eyes are unable to make out what that object is. We are playing the most formidable game against these enemies; and we do not even know what the stakes are. Only the police can discover those stakes.”

M. Masseron waited for a second or two and then, laying his hand on Patrice’s shoulder, said, calmly:

“And, suppose the authorities knew what the stakes were?”

Patrice looked at him in surprise:

“What? Do you mean to say you know?”

“Perhaps.”

“And can you tell me?”

“Oh, well, if you force me to!”

“What are they?”

“Not much! A trifle!”

“But what sort of trifle?”

“A thousand million francs.”

“A thousand millions?”

“Just that. A thousand millions, of which two-thirds, I regret to say, if not three-quarters, had already left France before the war. But the remaining two hundred and fifty or three hundred millions are worth more than a thousand millions all the same, for a very good reason.”

“What reason?”

“They happen to be in gold.”

VIII Essarès Bey’s Work

This time Captain Belval seemed to relax to some extent. He vaguely perceived the consideration that compelled the authorities to wage the battle prudently.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, I was instructed to investigate this matter two years ago; and my enquiries proved that really remarkable exports of gold were being effected from France. But, I confess, it is only since my conversation with Mme. Essarès that I have seen where the leakage came from and who it was that set on foot, all over France, down to the least important market-towns, the formidable organization through which the indispensable metal was made to leave the country.”

“Then Mme. Essarès knew?”

“No, but she suspected a great deal; and last night, before you arrived, she overheard some words spoken between Essarès and his assailants which she repeated to me, thus giving me the key to the riddle. I should have been glad to work out the complete solution without your assistance⁠—for one thing, those were the orders of the minister of the interior; and Mme. Essarès displayed the same wish⁠—but your impetuosity overcomes my hesitation; and, since I can’t manage to get rid of you, Captain Belval, I will tell you the whole story frankly⁠ ⁠… especially as your cooperation is not to be despised.”

“I am all ears,” said Patrice, who was burning to know more.

“Well, the motive force of the plot was here, in this house. Essarès Bey, president of the Franco-Oriental Bank, 6, Rue Lafayette, apparently an Egyptian, in reality a Turk, enjoyed the greatest influence in the Paris financial world. He had been naturalized an Englishman, but had kept up secret relations with the former possessors of Egypt; and he had received instructions from a foreign power, which I am not yet able to