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

beard.⁠ ⁠… Oh, I shall never forget that dead man!⁠ ⁠… He must have been murdered, poisoned, I don’t know what.⁠ ⁠…”

Honorine listened greedily, but the murder seemed to give her no clue and she merely asked:

“Who was it? Did they have an inquest?”

“When I came back with the people from Le Faouet, the corpse had disappeared.”

“Disappeared? But who had removed it?”

“I don’t know.”

“So that you know nothing?”

“Nothing. Except that, the first time, I found in the cabin a drawing⁠ ⁠… a drawing which I tore up; but its memory haunts me like a nightmare that keeps on recurring. I can’t get it out of my mind.⁠ ⁠… Listen, it was a roll of paper on which someone had evidently copied an old picture and it represented⁠ ⁠… Oh, a dreadful, dreadful thing, four women crucified! And one of the women was myself, with my name.⁠ ⁠… And the others wore a headdress like yours.”

Honorine had squeezed her hands with incredible violence:

“What’s that you say?” she cried. “What’s that you say? Four women crucified?”

“Yes; and there was something about thirty coffins, consequently about your island.”

The Breton woman put her hands over Véronique’s lips to silence them:

“Hush! Hush! Oh, you mustn’t speak of all that! No, no, you mustn’t.⁠ ⁠… You see, there are devilish things⁠ ⁠… which it’s a sacrilege to talk about.⁠ ⁠… We must be silent about that.⁠ ⁠… Later on, we’ll see⁠ ⁠… another year, perhaps.⁠ ⁠… Later on.⁠ ⁠… Later on.⁠ ⁠…”

She seemed shaken by terror, as by a gale which scourges the trees and overwhelms all living things. And suddenly she fell on her knees upon the rock and muttered a long prayer, bent in two, with her hands before her face, so completely absorbed that Véronique asked her no more questions.

At last she rose and, presently, said:

“Yes, this is all terrifying, but I don’t see that it makes our duty any different or that we can hesitate at all.”

And, addressing Véronique, she said, gravely:

“You must come over there with me.”

“Over there, to your island?” replied Véronique, without concealing her reluctance.

Honorine again took her hands and continued, still in that same, rather solemn tone which appeared to Véronique to be full of secret and unspoken thoughts:

“Your name is truly Véronique d’Hergemont?”

“Yes.”

“Who was your father?”

“Antoine d’Hergemont.”

“You married a man called Vorski, who said he was a Pole?”

“Yes, Alexis Vorski.”

“You married him after there was a scandal about his running off with you and after a quarrel between you and your father?”

“Yes.”

“You had a child by him?”

“Yes, a son, François.”

“A son that you never knew, in a manner of speaking, because he was kidnapped by your father?”

“Yes.”

“And you lost sight of the two after a shipwreck?”

“Yes, they are both dead.”

“How do you know?”

It did not occur to Véronique to be astonished at this question, and she replied:

“My personal enquiries and the police enquiries were both based upon the same indisputable evidence, that of the four sailors.”

“Who’s to say they weren’t telling lies?”

“Why should they tell lies?” asked Véronique, in surprise.

“Their evidence may have been bought; they may have been told what to say.”

“By whom?”

“By your father.”

“But what an idea!⁠ ⁠… Besides, my father was dead!”

“I say once more: how do you know that?”

This time Véronique appeared stupefied:

“What are you hinting?” she whispered.

“One minute. Do you know the names of those four sailors?”

“I did know them, but I don’t remember them.”

“You don’t remember that they were Breton names?”

“Yes, I do. But I don’t see that⁠ ⁠…”

“If you never came to Brittany, your father often did, because of the books he used to write. He used to stay in Brittany during your mother’s lifetime. That being so, he must have had relations with the men of the country. Suppose that he had known the four sailors a long time, that these men were devoted to him or bribed by him and that he engaged them specially for that adventure. Suppose that they began by landing your father and your son at some little Italian port and that then, being four good swimmers, they scuttled and sank their yacht in view of the coast. Just suppose it.”

“But the men are living!” cried Véronique, in growing excitement. “They can be questioned.”

“Two of them are dead; they died a natural death a few years ago. The third is an old man called Maguennoc; you will find him at Sarek. As for the fourth, you may have seen him just now. He used the money which he made out of that business to buy a grocer’s shop at Beg-Meil.”

“Ah, we can speak to him at once!” cried Véronique, eagerly. “Let’s go and fetch him.”

“Why should we? I know more than he does.”

“You know? You know?”

“I know everything that you don’t. I can answer all your questions. Ask me what you like.”

But Véronique dared not put the great question to her, the one which was beginning to quiver in the darkness of her consciousness. She was afraid of a truth which was perhaps not inconceivable, a truth of which she seemed to catch a faint glimpse; and she stammered, in mournful accents:

“I don’t understand, I don’t understand.⁠ ⁠… Why should my father have behaved like that? Why should he wish himself and my poor child to be thought dead?”

“Your father had sworn to have his revenge.”

“On Vorski, yes; but surely not on me, his daughter?⁠ ⁠… And such a revenge!”

“You loved your husband. Once you were in his power, instead of running away from him, you consented to marry him. Besides, the insult was a public one. And you know what your father was, with his violent, vindictive temperament and his rather⁠ ⁠… his rather unbalanced nature, to use his own expression.”

“But since then?”

“Since then! Since then! He felt remorseful as he grew older, what with his affection for the child⁠ ⁠… and he tried everywhere to find you. The journeys I have taken, beginning with my journey to the Carmelites at Chartres! But you had left long ago⁠ ⁠… and where for? Where were you to be found?”

“You could have advertised in the newspapers.”

“He did try advertising, once, very cautiously, because of the scandal. There