20 
LAND & WATER 
January 4, 1917 
{Conttnutd from page i8) 
that made you wish to keep me out ot this house , . . . out 
■ii this house and out of your very Ufe." 
He put his hand on the back of the chair in which she was 
sitting ; and his hand just touched CoralJe's hair. 
" CoraUe, you imagine that it is the shame of your hfe 
here that keeps you away from me. You blush at having 
been tiiat man's wife ; and this makes you feel troubled and 
anxious, as though you yourself had been guilty. But why 
should you ? It was not your fault. Surely you know that. 
I can guess the misery and hatred that must have passed 
between you and him and the constraint that was brought to 
bear upon you, by some machination, in order to force j-our 
consent to the marriage ! No, CoraUe, there is something 
else ; and I will tell you what it is. Tiiere is something 
else. ..." 
He was bending over her still more. He saw her beautiful 
profile ht up by the blazing logs and, speaking with increasing 
fervour and adopting the famihar tii and loi which, in his 
s_ eech, retained a note of affectionate respect, he cried : 
" Am I to speak. Little Mother CoraUe ? I needn't, need 
1 ? You have understood ; and you read yourself clearly. 
Ah, I feel you trembling from head' to foot ! Yes, yes, I tell 
you, I knew your secret from the very first day. From the 
very first day you loved your great beggar of a wounded man, 
all scarred and maimeJ though he was. Hush! Don't 
deny it ! . . . Yes, I vmderstand : you are rather 
sliocked to hear such words as these spoken to-day. I ought 
perhaps to have waited. And yet why should I ? I am asking 
you nothing. I know ; and that is enough for me. I shan't 
speak of it again for a long time to come, until the inevitab e 
hour arrives when you are forced to tell it me yourself. Till 
tlien 1 shall keep silence. But our love will always be between 
us ; and it wiU be exquisite, Little Mother CoraUe, it will be 
exquisite for me to know that you love me. CoraUe . 
There, now you're crying ! 'And you would still deny the 
tinith ? Why, when you cry — I know you, little mother — 
it means that your dear heart is overflowing with tenderness 
and love ! You are crying ? Ah, Little Mother, 1 never 
thought you loved me to that e.xtent ! " 
Patrice also had tears in his eyes. Coralic's were coursing 
down her pale cheeks ; and he would have given much to 
kiss that wet face. But the least outward sign of affection 
appeared to him an offence at such a moment. He was 
content to gaze at her passionately. 
And, as he did so, he received an impression that her 
thoughts were becoming detached from his own, that her 
eyes were being attracted by an unexpected sight and that, 
amid the great silence of their love, she was listening to 
something that he himself had not heard. 
And suddenly he too heard that thing, though it was almost 
imperceptible. It was not so much a sound as the sensation 
of a presence mingling with the distant rumble of the town. 
What could be happening ? 
The liglit had begun to fade, without his noticing it. Also 
unperceived by Patrice, Mme. Essares had opened the window 
a little way, for the boudoir was small and the heat of the fire 
was becoming oppressive. Nevertheless, the two casements 
were almost touching. It was at this that she was staring ; 
and it was from there that the danger threatened. 
Patrice's first impulse was. to run to the window, but he 
:estrained himself. The danger was becoming defined. 
t)utside, in the twilight, he distinguished through the slanting 
panes a human f )rm. Next, he saw between the two case- 
ments something which gleamed in the light of the fire and 
which IcMjked like the barrel of a revolver. 
" Coralie is done for," he thought, " if I allow it to be 
suspected for an instant that I am on my guard. 
She was in fact ojijxjsite the window, with no obstacle 
intervening. He therefore said aloud, in a careless tone : 
" Coralie, you must be a little tired. We will say good- 
bye." 
.\t the same time, he went round her chair to protect 
her. , 
But he had not the time to complete his movement. She 
also no douV.t had seen the glint of the revolver, for she drew 
back abruptly, stammering : 
"Oh, Patrice! . . . Patrice! . . . 
Two shots rang out, followed by a moan. 
" You're wounied ! " cried Patrice, springing to her side. 
" No, no," she said, " but the fright. . . ." 
' Oh, if he's touched you, the scoundrel I " 
" No, he hasn't." 
" Are you quite sure ? " 
He lo.st thirty or forty seconds, switching on the electrir 
light, looking at Coralie for signs of a wound and waiting in 
an agony of suspense for her to regain full conscioiisn.'.ss. 
Only then did he rush to the window, opm it wide and climb 
over the balcony. The room was on the tirst floor. There was 
plenty of lattice-work on the wall. But, because of his leg. 
Patrice had some dilhculiy in making his way down. 
Below, on the terrace, he caught his foot in the rungs of an 
overturned ladder. Next, he knocked against some^poUce- 
inen who were coming from the ground-floor. One of thenv 
shouted. 
" I saw the figure of a man making off that way." 
" Which way ? " asked Patrice. 
The man was running in the direction of the lane. Patrice 
followed him. But, at that moment, from close beside the 
little door, there came shrill cries and the whimper of a 
choking voice : 
" Help ! . . . Help ! . 
When Patrice came up, tiie policeman was already flashing 
his electric lantern over the ground ; and they both saw a 
human form writhing in the shrubberv. 
" The door's open ! " shouted Patrice. " The assassia 
has escaped. Go after him ! " 
The policeman vanished down the lane ; and, Ya-Bon 
appearing on the scene, Patrice gave him his orders : 
" Quick as you can, Ya-Bon ! ... If the policeman 
IS going up the lane, you go down. Run ! 1 '11 look after 
the victim." 
AU this time, Patrice was stooping low, flinging the light 
of the policeman's lantern on the man who lay struggUng 
on the ground. He recognised old Simeon, nearly strangled, 
with a red silk cord round his neck. 
" How do you feel ? " he asked. " Can you understand 
what I'm saying ? " 
He unfastened the cord and repeated his question. Sim<5on 
stuttered out a series of incoherent syllables and then suddenly 
began to sing and laugh, a very low, jerkv laugh, alternating 
with hiccoughs. He had gone mad. 
Ulien M. Masseron arrived, Patrice told hiin what had 
happened : 
" Do you really beUeve it's all over .' " he asked. 
" No. You were right and I was wrong," said M. Masseron. 
" We must take every precaution to ensure Mme. Essares' 
safety. The house shall be guarded all night." 
A few minutes later, the policeman and Ya-Bon returned, 
after a vain search. The key that had served to open the 
door was found in the lane. It was exactly similar to the 
one in Patrice Belval's possession, equally old and equally 
rusty. The would-be murderer had thrown it away in the 
course of his flight. 
***** 
It was seven o'clock when Patrice, accompanied by Ya- 
Bon, left the housd in the Rue Raynouard and turned towards 
Neuilly. As usual, Patrice took Ya-Bon's arm and, leaning 
upon him for support as he walked, he said : 
" I can guess, what you're thinking, Ya-Bon." 
Ya-Bon grunted. 
" That's it," said Captain Bclval, in a tone of approval. 
" We are entirely in agreement all along the line. What 
strikes you first and foremost is the utter incapacity dis- 
played by the police. A pack of addle-pates, you say ? 
When you speak like that, Master Ya-Bon, you are talking 
impertinent nonsense, which, coming from you, does not 
astonish me and which might easily make me give you the 
puni.shment you deserve. -But we wiU overlook it this time. 
Whatever you may say, the police do what they Ccm, not 
to mention that, in war-time, they have other things to do 
than to occupy themselves with the mysterious relations 
"between Captain Belval and Mme. Essares. It is I there- 
fore who will have to act ; and I have hardly any one to 
reckon on but myself. Well, I wonder if I am a match for 
such adversaries. To think that here's one who has the 
cheek to come back to the house while it is being watched bv 
the poUce, to pat up a ladder, to listen no doubt to my con- 
versation with M. Masseron and afterwards to what I said 
to Little Mother Coralie and, lastly, to send a couple of 
bullets whizzing past our ears ! What do you say ? Am I 
the man for the job ? And could all the French police., 
overworked as they are, give me the indisponsabb as.sistance .■■ 
No, the man I need for clearing up a thing like this is ait 
exceptional sort of chap, one who unites every quality ii» 
himself, in short the typ? of man one never sees." 
Patrice leant more heavily on his companion's arm : 
" You who know so many good people, haven't j-ou the 
fellow I want concealed about your person .' A genius of 
sorts ? A demigod ? " 
Ya-Bon grunted again, merrily this time, and withdrew 
his arm. He always carried a little electric lamp. Switching 
on the light, he put the handle between his teeth. Then he- 
took a bit of chalk out of his jacket pocket. 
A grimy, weather-beaten plaster wall ran along the street. 
Ya-Bon took his stand in front of the wall and, turning the 
light upon it, began to write with an unskilful hand, as though 
'.Continued ott rage 22. 
