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

morning received two important letters on the subject of the investigation which he was making into all these facts. One of the letters, written by an old Breton nobleman well-known for his royalist leanings, was accompanied by a curious document which he had found among his great-grandfather’s papers, a plan of some underground cells which the Chouans used to occupy in Sarek. It was evidently the same Druid dwellings of which the legends tell us. The plan showed the entrance on the Black Heath and marked two stories, each ending in a torture-chamber. François and I went out exploring together; and we were attacked on our way back.”

“And you have made no discovery since?”

“No, none at all.”

“But François spoke of a rescue which he was expecting, someone who had promised his assistance.”

“Oh, a piece of boyish nonsense, an idea of François’, which, as it happened, was connected with the second letter which M. d’Hergemont received that morning!”

“And what was it about?”

Stéphane did not reply at once. Something made him think that they were being spied on through the door. But, on going to the wicket, he saw no one in the passage outside.

“Ah,” he said, “if we are to be rescued, the sooner it happens the better. They may come at any moment now.”

“Is any help really possible?” asked Véronique.

“Well,” Stéphane answered, “we must not attach too much importance to it, but it’s rather curious all the same. You know, Sarek has often been visited by officers or inspectors with a view to exploring the rocks and beaches around the island, which were quite capable of concealing a submarine base. Last time, the special delegate sent from Paris, a wounded officer, Captain Patrice Belval,2 became friendly with M. d’Hergemont, who told him the legend of Sarek and the apprehension which we were beginning to feel in spite of everything; it was the day after Maguennoc went away. The story interested Captain Belval so much that he promised to speak of it to one of his friends in Paris, a Spanish or Portuguese nobleman, Don Luis Perenna,3 an extraordinary person, it would seem, capable of solving the most complicated mysteries and of succeeding in the most reckless enterprises. A few days after Captain Belval’s departure, M. d’Hergemont received from Don Luis Perenna the letter of which I spoke to you and of which he read us only the beginning. ‘Sir,’ it said, ‘I look upon the Maguennoc incident as more than a little serious; and I beg you, at the least fresh alarm, to telegraph to Patrice Belval. If I can rely upon certain indications, you are standing on the brink of an abyss. But, even if you were at the bottom of that abyss, you would have nothing to fear, if only I hear from you in time. From that moment, I make myself responsible, whatever happens, even though everything may seem lost and though everything may be lost. As for the riddle of the God-Stone, it is simply childish and I am astonished that, with the very ample data which you gave Belval, it should for an instant be regarded as impossible of explanation. I will tell you in a few words what has puzzled so many generations of mankind.⁠ ⁠…’ ”

“Well?” said Véronique, eager to know more.

“As I said, M. d’Hergemont did not tell us the end of the letter. He read it in front of us, saying, with an air of amazement, ‘Can that be it?⁠ ⁠… Why, of course, of course it is.⁠ ⁠… How wonderful!’ And, when we asked him, he said, ‘I’ll tell you all about it this evening, when you come back from the Black Heath. Meanwhile you may like to know that this most extraordinary man⁠—it’s the only word for him⁠—discloses to me, without more ado or further particulars, the secret of the God-Stone and the exact spot where it is to be found. And he does it so logically as to leave no room for doubt.’ ”

“And in the evening?”

“In the evening, François and I were carried off and M. d’Hergemont was murdered.”

Véronique paused to think:

“I should not be surprised,” she said, “if they wanted to steal that important letter from him. For, after all, the theft of the God-Stone seems to me the only motive that can explain all the machinations of which we are the victims.”

“I think so too: but M. d’Hergemont, on Don Luis Perenna’s recommendation, tore up the letter before our eyes.”

“So, after all, Don Luis Perenna has not been informed?”

“No.”

“Yet François⁠ ⁠…”

“François does not know of his grandfather’s death and does not suspect that M. d’Hergemont never heard of our disappearance and therefore never sent a message to Don Luis Perenna. If he had done so, Don Luis, to François’ mind, must be on his way. Besides, François has another reason for expecting something.⁠ ⁠…”

“A serious reason?”

“No. François is still very much of a child. He has read a lot of books of adventure, which have worked upon his imagination. Now Captain Belval told him such fantastic stories about his friend Perenna and painted Perenna in such strange colours that François firmly believes Perenna to be none other than Arsène Lupin. Hence his absolute confidence and his certainty that, in case of danger, the miraculous intervention will take place at the very minute when it becomes necessary.”

Véronique could not help smiling:

“He is a child, of course; but children sometimes have intuitions which we have to take into account. Besides, it keeps up his courage and his spirits. How could he have endured this ordeal, at his age, if he had not had that hope?”

Her anguish returned. In a very low voice, she said:

“No matter where the rescue comes from, so long as it comes in time and so long as my son is not the victim of those dreadful creatures!”

They were silent for a long time. The enemy, present, though invisible, oppressed them with his formidable weight. He was everywhere; he was master of the island, master