The Secret of Sarek Maurice Leblanc (best detective novels of all time .TXT) 📖

that separates us. Besides, I am very closely watched; and I may be obliged at any moment to send you away, as I do All’s Well, at the first sound of footsteps approaching.”

“Watched by whom?”

“By those who fell upon Stéphane and me on the day when we discovered the entrance to these caves, under the heath on the tableland, the Black Heath.”

“Did you see them?”

“No, it was too dark.”

“But who are they? Who are those enemies?”

“I don’t know.”

“You suspect, of course?”

“The Druids?” he said, laughing. “The people of old of whom the legends speak? Rather not! Ghosts? Not that either. They were just simply creatures of today, creatures of flesh and blood.”

“They live down here, though?”

“Most likely.”

“And you took them by surprise?”

“No, on the contrary. They seemed even to be expecting us and to be lying in wait for us. We had gone down a stone staircase and a very long passage, lined with perhaps eighty caves, or rather eighty cells. The doors, which were of wood, were open; and the cells overlooked the sea. It was on the way back, as we were going up the staircase again in the dark, that we were seized from one side, knocked down, bound, blindfolded and gagged. The whole thing did not take a minute. I suspect that we were carried back to the end of the long passage. When I succeeded in removing my bonds and my bandage, I found that I was locked in one of the cells, probably the last in the passage; and I have been here ten days.”

“My poor darling, how you must have suffered!”

“No, mother, and in any case not from hunger. There was a whole stack of provisions in one corner and a truss of straw in another to lie on. So I waited quietly.”

“For whom?”

“You promise not to laugh, mother?”

“Laugh at what, dear?”

“At what I’m going to tell you?”

“How can you think⁠ ⁠… ?”

“Well, I was waiting for someone who had heard of all the stories of Sarek and who promised grandfather to come.”

“But who was it?”

The boy hesitated:

“No, I am sure you will make fun of me, mother, I’ll tell you later. Besides, he never came⁠ ⁠… though I thought for a moment⁠ ⁠… Yes, fancy, I had managed to remove two stones from the wall and to open this hole of which my gaolers evidently didn’t know. All of a sudden, I heard a noise, someone scratching⁠ ⁠…”

“It was All’s Well?”

“It was Master All’s Well coming by the other road. You can imagine the welcome he received! Only what astonished me was that nobody followed him this way, neither Honorine nor grandfather. I had no pencil or paper to write to them; but, after all, they had only to follow All’s Well.”

“That was impossible,” said Véronique, “because they believed you to be far away from Sarek, carried off no doubt, and because your grandfather had left.”

“Just so: why believe anything of the sort? Grandfather knew, from a lately discovered document, where we were, for it was he who told us of the possible entrance to the underground passage. Didn’t he speak to you about it?”

Véronique had been very happy in listening to her son’s story. As he had been carried off and imprisoned, he was not the atrocious monster who had killed M. d’Hergemont, Marie Le Goff, Honorine and Corréjou and his companions. The truth which she had already vaguely surmised now assumed a more definite form and, though still thickly shrouded, was visible in its essential part. François was not guilty. Someone had put on his clothes and impersonated him, even as someone else, in the semblance of Stéphane, had pretended to be Stéphane. Ah, what did all the rest matter, the improbabilities and inconsistencies, the proofs and certainties! Véronique did not even think about it. The only thing that counted was the innocence of her beloved son.

And so she still refused to tell him anything that would sadden him and spoil his happiness; and she said:

“No, I have not seen your grandfather. Honorine wanted to prepare him for my visit, but things happened so hurriedly⁠ ⁠…”

“And you were left alone on the island, poor mother? So you hoped to find me here?”

“Yes,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation.

“Alone, but with All’s Well, of course.”

“Yes. I hardly paid any attention to him during the first days. It was not until this morning that I thought of following him.”

“And where does the road start from that brought you here?”

“It’s an underground passage the outlet of which is concealed between two stones near Maguennoc’s garden.”

“What! Then the two islands communicate?”

“Yes, by the cliff underneath the bridge.”

“How strange! That’s what neither Stéphane not I guessed, nor anybody else, for that matter⁠ ⁠… except our dear All’s Well, when it came to finding his master.”

He interrupted himself and then whispered:

“Hark!”

But, the next moment, he said:

“No, it’s not that yet. Still, we must hurry.”

“What am I to do?”

“It’s quite simple, mother. When I made this hole, I saw that it could be widened easily enough, if it were possible also to take out the three or four stones next to it. But these are firmly fixed; and we should need an implement of some kind.”

“Well, I’ll go and⁠ ⁠…”

“Yes, do, mother. Go back to the Priory. To the left of the house, in a basement, is a sort of workshop where Maguennoc kept his garden-tools. You will find a small pickaxe there, with a very short handle. Bring it me in the evening. I will work during the night; and tomorrow morning I shall give you a kiss, mother.”

“Oh, it sounds too good to be true!”

“I promise you I shall. Then all that we shall have to do will be to release Stéphane.”

“Your tutor? Do you know where he is shut up?”

“I do almost know. According to the particulars which grandfather gave us, the underground passages consist of two floors one above the other; and the last cell of each is fitted as a prison. I occupy one of them. Stéphane should occupy the