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

German God, for whom good and evil do not count where the greatness of his sons is at stake. The spirit of evil is within me. I love evil, I thirst after evil. So you shall die, Véronique, and I shall laugh when I see you suffering on the cross!”

He was already laughing. He walked with great strides, stamping noisily on the floor. He lifted his arms to the ceiling; and Véronique, quivering with anguish, saw the red frenzy in his bloodshot eyes.

He took a few more steps and then came up to her and, in a restrained voice, snarling with menace:

“On your knees, Véronique, and beseech my love! It alone can save you. Vorski knows neither pity nor fear. But he loves you; and his love will stop at nothing. Take advantage of it, Véronique. Appeal to the past. Become the child that you once were; and perhaps one day I shall drag myself at your feet. Véronique, do not repel me; a man like me is not to be repelled. One who loves as I love you, Véronique, as I love you, is not to be defied.”

She suppressed a cry. She felt his hated hands on her bare arms. She tried to release herself; but he, much stronger than she, did not let go and continued, in a panting voice:

“Do not repel me⁠ ⁠… it is absurd⁠ ⁠… it is madness.⁠ ⁠… You must know that I am capable of anything⁠ ⁠… Well?⁠ ⁠… The cross is horrible.⁠ ⁠… To see your son dying before your eyes; is that what you want?⁠ ⁠… Accept the inevitable. Vorski will save you. Vorski will give you the most beautiful life.⁠ ⁠… Oh, how you hate me! But no matter: I accept your hatred, I love your hatred, I love your disdainful mouth.⁠ ⁠… I love it more than if it offered itself of its own accord.⁠ ⁠…”

He ceased speaking. An implacable struggle took place between them. Véronique’s arms vainly resisted his closer and closer grip. Her strength was failing her; she felt helpless, doomed to defeat. Her knees gave way beneath her. Opposite her and quite close, Vorski’s eyes seemed filled with blood; and she was breathing the monster’s breath.

Then, in her terror, she bit him with all her might; and, profiting by a second of discomfiture, she released herself with one great effort, leapt back, drew her revolver, and fired once and again.

The two bullets whistled past Vorski’s ears and sent fragments flying from the wall behind him. She had fired too quickly, at random.

“Oh, the jade!” he roared. “She nearly did for me.”

In a second he had his arms round her body and, with an irresistible effort, bent her backwards, turned her round and laid her on a sofa. Then he took a cord from his pocket and bound her firmly and brutally.

There was a moment’s respite and silence. Vorski wiped the perspiration from his forehead, filled himself a tumbler of wine and drank it down at a gulp.

“That’s better,” he said, placing his foot on his victim, “and confess that this is best all round. Each one in his place, my beauty; you trussed like a fowl and I treading on you at my pleasure. Aha, we’re no longer enjoying ourselves so much! We’re beginning to understand that it’s a serious matter. Ah, you needn’t be afraid, you baggage: Vorski’s not the man to take advantage of a woman! No, no, that would be to play with fire and to burn with a longing which this time would kill me. I’m not such a fool as that. How should I forget you afterwards? One thing only can make me forget and give me my peace of mind; your death. And, since we understand each other on that subject, all’s well. For it’s settled, isn’t it; you want to die?”

“Yes,” she said, as firmly as before.

“And you want your son to die?”

“Yes,” she said.

He rubbed his hands:

“Excellent! We are agreed; and the time is past for words that mean nothing. The real words remain to be spoken, those which count; for you admit that, so far, all that I have said is mere verbiage, what? Just as all the first part of the adventure, all that you saw happening at Sarek, is only child’s play. The real tragedy is beginning, since you are involved in it body and soul; and that’s the most terrifying part, my pretty one. Your beautiful eyes have wept, but it is tears of blood that are wanted, you poor darling! But what would you have? Once again, Vorski is not cruel. He obeys a higher power; and destiny is against you. Your tears? Nonsense! You’ve got to shed a thousand times as many as another. Your death? Fudge! You’ve got to die a thousand deaths before you die for good. Your poor heart must bleed as never woman’s and mother’s poor heart bled before. Are you ready, Véronique? You shall hear really cruel words, to be followed perhaps by words more cruel still. Oh, fate is not spoiling you, my pretty one!⁠ ⁠…”

He poured himself out a second glass of wine and emptied it in the same gluttonous fashion; then he sat down beside her and, stooping, said, almost in her ear:

“Listen, dearest, I have a confession to make to you. I was already married when I met you. Oh, don’t be upset! There are greater catastrophes for a wife and greater crimes for a husband than bigamy. Well, by my first wife I had a son⁠ ⁠… whom I think you know; you exchanged a few amicable remarks with him in the passage of the cells.⁠ ⁠… Between ourselves, he’s a regular bad lot, that excellent Raynold, a rascal of the worst, in whom I enjoy the pride of discovering, raised to their highest degree, some of my best instincts and some of my chief qualities. He is a second edition to myself, but he already outstrips me and now and then alarms me. Whew, what a devil! At his age, a little over fifteen,