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

at what I’m doing. But it’s fate.⁠ ⁠… You remember the prophecy? ‘Your wife shall die on the cross.’ Why, your very name, Véronique, demands it!⁠ ⁠… Remember St. Veronica wiping Christ’s face with a handkerchief and the Saviour’s sacred image remaining on the handkerchief.⁠ ⁠… Véronique, you can hear me, surely? Véronique⁠ ⁠…”

He ran down hurriedly, snatched the flask of rum from Conrad’s hands and emptied it at a draught.

He was now seized with a sort of delirium which made him rave for a few moments in a language which his accomplices did not understand. Then he began to challenge the invisible enemy, to challenge the gods, to hurl forth imprecations and blasphemies:

“Vorski is the mightiest of all men, Vorski governs fate. The elements and the mysterious powers of nature are compelled to obey him. Everything will fall out as he has determined; and the great secret will be declared to him in the mystic forms and according to the rules of the Kabala. Vorski is awaited as the prophet. Vorski will be welcomed with cries of joy and ecstasy; and one whom I know not, one whom I can only half see, will come to meet him with palms and benedictions. Let the unknown make ready! Let him arise from the darkness and ascend from hell! Here stands Vorski. To the sound of bells, to the singing of alleluias, let the fateful sign be revealed upon the face of the heavens, while the earth opens and sends forth whirling flames!”

He fell silent, as though he had descried in the air the signs which he foretold. The hopeless death-rattle of the dying woman sounded from overhead. The storm growled in the distance; and the black clouds were rent by lightning. All nature seemed to be responding to the ruffian’s appeal.

His grandiloquent speech and his playacting made a great impression on the two accomplices.

“He frightens me,” Otto muttered.

“It’s the rum,” Conrad replied. “But all the same he’s foretelling terrible things.”

“Things which prowl round us,” shouted Vorski, whose ears noticed the least sound, “things which make part of the present moment and have been bequeathed to us by the pageant of the centuries. It’s like a prodigious childbirth. And I tell the two of you, you will be the amazed witnesses of these things! Otto and Conrad, be prepared as I am: the earth will shake; and, at the very spot where Vorski is to win the God-Stone, a column of fire will rise up to the sky.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” mumbled Conrad.

“And there he is on the ladder again,” whispered Otto. “It’ll serve him right if he gets an arrow through him.”

But Vorski’s exaltation knew no bounds. The end was at hand. Extenuated by pain, the victim was in her death-agony.

Beginning very low, so as to be heard by none save her, but raising his voice gradually, Vorski said:

“Véronique.⁠ ⁠… Véronique.⁠ ⁠… You are fulfilling your mission.⁠ ⁠… You are nearing the top of the ascent.⁠ ⁠… All honour to you! You deserve a share in my triumph.⁠ ⁠… All honour to you! Listen! You hear it already, don’t you? The artillery of the heavens is drawing near. My enemies are vanquished; you can no longer hope for rescue! Here is the last beat of your heart.⁠ ⁠… Here is your last cry: ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?’ ”

He screamed with laughter, like a man laughing at the most riotous adventure. Then came silence. The roars of thunder ceased. Vorski bent forward and suddenly, from the top of the ladder, shouted:

“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani! The gods have forsaken her. Death has done its work. The last of the four women is dead. Véronique is dead!”

He was silent once again and then roared twice over:

“Véronique is dead! Véronique is dead!”

Once again there was a great, deep silence.

And all of a sudden the earth shook, not with a vibration produced by the thunder, but with a deep inner convulsion, which came from the very bowels of the earth and was repeated several times, like a noise reechoing through the woods and hills.

And almost at the same time, close by, at the other end of the semicircle of oaks, a fountain of fire shot forth and rose to the sky, in a whirl of smoke in which flared red, yellow and violet flames.

Vorski did not speak a word. His companions stood aghast. One of them stammered:

“It’s the old rotten oak, the one which has already been struck by lightning.”

Though the fire had disappeared almost instantly, the three men retained the fantastic vision of the old oak, all aglow, vomiting flames and smoke of many colours.

“This is the entrance leading to the God-Stone,” said Vorski, solemnly. “Destiny has spoken, as I said it would: and it has spoken at the bidding of me who was once its servant and who am now its master.”

He advanced, carrying the lantern. They were surprised to see that the tree showed no trace of fire and that the mass of dry leaves, held as in a bowl where a few lower branches were outspread, had not caught fire.

“Yet another miracle,” said Vorski. “It is all an inconceivable miracle.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Conrad.

“Go in by the entrance revealed to us.⁠ ⁠… Take the ladder, Conrad, and feel with your hand in that heap of leaves. The tree is hollow and we shall soon see⁠ ⁠…”

“A tree can be as hollow as you please,” said Otto, “but there are always roots to it; and I can hardly believe in a passage through the roots.”

“I repeat, we shall see. Move the leaves, Conrad, clear them away.”

“No, I won’t,” said Conrad, bluntly.

“What do you mean, you won’t? Why not?”

“Have you forgotten Maguennoc? Have you forgotten that he tried to touch the God-Stone and had to cut his hand off?”

“But this isn’t the God-Stone!” Vorski snarled.

“How do you know? Maguennoc was always speaking of the gate of hell. Isn’t this what he meant when he talked like that?”

Vorski shrugged his