22 
LAND & WATER 
March 8, 1917 
{ConliHued from pa^e 20) 
were still clutching him by the throat, and he sank into a 
heap, moaning. 
Patrice stooped over him : 
" I'm listening," he said. " But for God's sake, hurry ! " 
" All right," said Simeon. " All right. She'll be free in a 
fow minutes. But on one condition, just one . . . Patrice 
you must swear to me on Coralie's head that you will not touch 
ilie gold and that no one shall know . . ." 
" I swear it on her head." 
Patrice had taken the two arms of this man who was his 
father and whom he had never detested with greater 
vehemence. He was imploring him with all the strength of 
liis being. He would have shed tears, had he thought that 
the old man would allow himself to be moved by tears. 
" What is it .' " 
" I'll tell you. Listen. He's there, isn't he ? " 
' Yes." 
" In the studio ? " 
• Yes." 
' In that case . . . ne mustn't come out. . . ." 
' How do you mean .' " , 
Xo, he must stay there until we've done " 
■ But. . . ." 
" It's quite easy. Listen carefully. You've only to make 
a movement to shut the door on him. The lock has been 
forced, but there are the two bolts ; and those will do. Do 
you consent ? " 
Patrice rebelled : 
"But you're mad. / consent, I? . . . Why, the 
man saved my life ! . . . He saved Coralie ! " 
" But he's doing for her now. Think a moment : if he 
were not there, if he were not interfering, Coralie would be 
free. Do vou accept ? " 
" No." 
" Why not ? Do you know what that man is ? A highway 
robber ... a wretch who has only one thought, to 
get hold of the millions. And you have scruples ! Come, 
it's absurd, isn't it ? ... Do you accept ' " 
" No and again no ! " 
" Then so much the worse for Coralie. . . . Oh, yes, 
I see you don't realise the position exactly ! It's time you 
did Patrice. Perhaps it's even too late." 
" Oh, don't say that ! " 
" Yes, yes, you must learn the facts and take your share of 
the responsibility. When that damned negro was chasing 
me, I got rid of Coralie as best I could, intending to release 
her in an hour or two. And then . . . and then you 
know what happened. ... It was eleven o'clock at 
night . . . nearly eight hours ago. ... So work 
it out for yourself. . . ." 
Patrice wrung his hands. Never had he imagined that a 
man could be tortured to such a degree. And Simeon con- 
tinued, unrelentingly : 
" She can't breathe, on my soul she can't ! . . . Per- 
haps just a very little air reaches her, but that is all. . . . 
Then again I can't tell that all that covers and protects her 
hasn't given way. If it has, she's suffocating . . . while 
you stand here arguing. . . . Look here, can it matter 
to you to lock up that man for ten minutes ? . . . Only 
ten minutes, you know. And you still hesitate ! Then it's 
you who are kilhng her, Patrice. Think . . . buried 
alive ! " 
Patrice drew himself up. His resolve was taken. At 
that moment, he would have shrunk from no act, however 
painful. And what Simeon asked was so little 1 
" What do you want me to do ? " he asked. " Give your 
orders." 
" You know what I want," said the other. " It's quite 
simple. Go to the door, bolt it and come back again." 
The officer entered the lodge with a firm step and walked 
through the hall. The light was dancing up and down at the 
far end of the studio. 
Without a word, without a moment's hesitation, he 
suimmed the door, shot both the bolts and hastened back. 
He felt relieved. The action was a base one, but he never 
doubted that he had fulfilled an imperative duty. 
That s it," he said. " Let's hurry." 
" Help me up," said the old man. " I can't manage by 
myself." 
Patrice took him under the armpits and lifted him to his 
Uet. But he had to support him, for the old man's legs were 
swaying beneath him. 
■ Oh, curse it ! " blurted Simeon. " That blasted nigger 
has done for me. I'm suffocating too, I can't walk." 
Patrice almost carried him, while Simeon, in the last stage 
of weakness, stammered : 
" This way. . . . Now straight ahead. ..." 
'Hiey passed the corner of the lodge and turned their steps 
■ u . c ds the graves. 
" You're quite sure you fastened the door ? " the old man 
continued. " Yes, I heard it slam. Oh, he's a terrible 
fellow, that ! You have to be on 3'our guard with him ! But 
you swore not to say anything, didn't you ? Swear it again, 
by your mother's memory. . . no, better, swear it by 
Coralie. . . . May she die on the spot if you betray your 
oath ! " 
' He stopped. A spasm prevented his going any- further 
until he had drawm a little air into his lungs. Nevertheless 
he went on talking : 
" I needn't worry, need I ? Besides, you don't care abou? 
gold. That being so, "why should you speak ? Never mind, 
swear that you will be silent. Or, look here, give me yoiu" 
word of honour. That's best. Your word, eh ? " 
Patrice was still holding him round the waist. It was 
a terrible, long agony for the officer, this slow crawl and this 
sort of embrace which he was compelled to adopt in order 
to effect Coralie's release. As he felt the contact of the 
detested man's body, he was more inclined to squeeze the 
life out of it. And yet a vile phrase kept recurring deep 
down within him : 
" I am his son, I am his son. . . ." 
" It's here," said the old man. 
" Here ? But these are the graves." 
" Coralie's grave and mine. It's what we were making 
for." 
" I say, the footprints ! You'll get rid of them on the way 
back, won't you ? For he would find om- tracks otherwise 
and he would know that this is the place. . . ." 
" Let's hurry. ... So Coralie is here ? Down there ? 
Buried ? Oh, how horrible 1 " 
It seemed to Patrice as if each minute that passed meant 
more than an hour's delay, and as if Coralie's safety might be 
jeopardised by a moment's hesitation of a single false step. 
He turned round in alarm : 
He took every oath that was demanded of him. He swore 
upon Coralie's head. He pledged his word of honour. At 
that moment, there was not an action which he would not 
have been ready to perform. 
Simeon knelt down on the grass, under the little temple, 
pointing with his finger ! 
" It's there," he repeated. " Underneath that." 
" Under the tombstone ? " 
" Yes." 
" Then the stone hfts ? " asked Patrice, anxiously. " I 
can't lift it by myself. It can't be done. It would take three 
men to lift that." 
" No," said the old man, " the stone swings on a pivot. 
You'll manage quite easily. All you have to do is to pull at 
one end . . . this one, on the right." 
Patrice came and caught hold of the great stone slab with 
its inscription, " Here lie Pa'rice and Coralie," and pulled. 
The stone rose at the first endeavour, as if a counterweight 
had forced the other end down. 
" Wait," said the old man. " We must hold it in position, 
or It will fall down again. You'll find an iron bar at the 
bottom of the second step." 
There were three steps running into a small cavity, barely 
large enough to contain a man .stooping. Patrice saw the 
iron bar and, propping up the stone with his shoulder, took 
the bar and set it up. 
" Good," said Simeon. " That will keep it steady. What 
you must now do is to lie down in the hollow. This was where 
my coffin was to have been and where I often used to come 
and lie beside my dear Coralie. I would remain for hours, 
flat on the ground, speaking to her. . . . We both 
talked. . . . Yes, I assure you, we used to. talk. . . . 
Oh, Patrice ! . . ." 
Patrice had bent his tall figure in the narrow space where 
he was hardly able to move. 
" What am I to do ? " he asked. 
" Don't you hear your Corahe ? There's only a partition- 
wall between you : a fevv bricks hidden under a thin layer 
of earth. And a door. The other vault, Corahe's, is beliind 
it. And behind that there's a third, with the bags of gold." 
The old man was bending over and directing the search as 
he knelt on the grass : 
" The door's on the left. Furtner than that. Can't yox. 
find it ? That's odd. You mustn't be too slow about it, 
though. Ah, have you got it now ? No ? Oh, if I could 
only go down too ! But there's not room for more than one.'» 
There was a brief silence. Then he began again : 
" Stretch a bit further. Good. Can you move ? " 
" Yes," said Patrice. 
" Then go on moving, my lad ! " cried the old man, with a 
yell of laughter. 
And, stepping back briskly, he snatched away the iron bar. 
The enormous block of stone came down heavily, slowly, 
because of the counterweight, but with irresistible force. 
(To be continued). 
