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

through him to ascertain Véronique d’Hergemont’s whereabouts. The reasons which prompted the wretched woman’s actions I do not know. It may have been blind devotion, fear of Vorski, an instinctive love of evildoing, hatred of the rival who supplanted her. It doesn’t matter. She has suffered the most terrible punishment. Let us speak only of the part she played, without seeking to understand how she had the courage to live for three years underground, never going out except at night, stealing food for herself and her son and patiently awaiting the day when she could serve and save her lord and master.

“I am also ignorant of the series of events that enabled her to take action, nor do I know how Vorski and Elfride managed to communicate. But what I know most positively is that Vorski’s escape was long and carefully prepared by his first wife. Every detail arranged. Every precaution was taken. On the fourteenth of September of last year, Vorski escaped, taking with him the two accomplices with whom he had made friends during his captivity and whom he had, so to speak, enrolled: the Otto and Conrad whom you know of.

“It was an easy journey. At every crossroads, an arrow, accompanied by a number, one of a series, and surmounted by the initials ‘V. d’H.,’ which initials were evidently selected by Vorski, pointed out the road which he was to follow. At intervals, in a deserted cabin, some provisions were hidden under a stone or in a truss of hay. The way led through Guémené, Le Faouet and Rosporden and ended on the beach at Beg-Meil.

“Here Elfride and Raynold came by night to fetch the three fugitives in Honorine’s motorboat and to land them near the Druid cells under the Black Heath. They clambered up. Their lodgings were ready for them and, as you have seen, were fairly comfortable. The winter passed; and Vorski’s plan, which as yet was very vague, became more precisely outlined from day to day.

“Strange to say, at the time of his first visit to Sarek, before the war, he had not heard of the secret of the island. It was Elfride who told him the legend of the God-Stone in the letters which she wrote to him at Pontivy. You can imagine the effect produced by this revelation on a man like Vorski. The God-Stone was bound to be the miraculous stone wrested from the soil of his native land, the stone which was to be discovered by the son of a king and which, from that time onward, would give him power and royalty. Everything that he learnt later confirmed his conviction. But the great fact that dominates his subterranean life at Sarek was the discovery of Brother Thomas’ prophecy in the course of the last month. Fragments of this prophecy were lingering on every hand, which he was able to pick up by listening to the conversations of the fisherfolk in the evenings, lurking under the windows of the cottages or on the roofs of the barns. Within mortal memory, the people of Sarek have always feared some terrible events, connected with the discovery and the disappearance of the invisible stone. There was likewise always a question of wrecks and of women crucified. Besides, Vorski was acquainted with the inscription on the Fairies’ Dolmen, about the thirty victims destined for the thirty coffins, the martyrdom of the four women, the God-Stone which gives life or death. What a number of disturbing coincidences for a mind as weak as his!

“But the prophecy itself, found by Maguennoc in the illuminated missal, constitutes the essential factor of the whole story. Remember that Maguennoc had torn out the famous page and that M. d’Hergemont, who was fond of drawing, had copied it several times and had unconsciously given to the principal woman the features of his daughter Véronique. Vorski became aware of the existence of the original and of one of the copies when he saw Maguennoc one night looking at them by the light of his lamp. Immediately, in the darkness, he contrived somehow to pencil in his notebook the fifteen lines of this precious document. He now knew and understood everything. He was dazzled by a blinding light. All the scattered elements were gathered into a whole, forming a compact and solid truth. There was no doubt possible: the prophecy concerned him! And it was his mission to realize it!

“This, I repeat, is the essence of the whole matter. From that moment, Vorski’s path was lighted by a beacon. He held in his hand Ariadne’s clue of thread. The prophecy represented to him an unimpeachable text. It was one of the Tables of the Law. It was the Bible. And yet think of the stupidity, of the unspeakable silliness of those fifteen lines scribbled at a venture, with no other motive than rhyme! Not a phrase showing a sign of inspiration! Not a spark, not a gleam! Not a trace of the sacred madness that uplifted the Delphian pythoness or provoked the delirious visions of a Jeremiah or an Ezekiel! Nothing! Syllables, rhymes! Nothing! Less than nothing! But quite enough to enlighten the gentle Vorski and to make him burn with all the enthusiasm of a neophyte!

“Stéphane, Patrice, listen to the prophecy of Brother Thomas. The Superhun wrote it down on ten different pages of his notebook, so that he might wear it ten times next to his skin and engrave it in the very substance of his being. Here’s one of the pages. Stéphane, Patrice, listen! Listen, O faithful Otto! And you yourself, Vorski, for the last time listen to the doggerel of Brother Thomas! Listen as I read!

“In Sarek’s isle, in year fourteen and three,
There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes,
Death-chambers, arrows, poison there will be
And woe, four women crucified on tree!
For thirty coffins victims thirty times.

“Before his mother’s eyes, Abel kills Cain.
The father then, coming forth of Almain,
A cruel prince, obeying destiny,
By thousand deaths and lingering