Detective and mystery stories; Paris (France) -- Fiction
“I made use of you, you viper,” said he, “because I had placed you in
such a position that you could not harm us. And now you will serve
me because I will show you that I can take everything from you--name,
money, liberty, and _life_. All depends upon our success. If we fail,
you fall into an abyss of the depth and horrors of which you can have
no conception. I knew with whom I had to deal, and took my measures
accordingly. The most crushing proofs of your crime are in the hands of
a person who has precise orders how to act. When I give the signal, he
moves; and when he moves, you are utterly lost.”
There was something so threatening in the silence that followed this
speech that Paul grew faint with apprehension.
“And,” went on Mascarin, “it would be an evil day for you if anything
were to happen to Hortebise, Paul, or myself; for if one of us were to
die suddenly, your fate would be sealed. You cannot say that you have
not been warned.”
Catenac stood with his head bent upon his breast, rooted to the ground
with terror. He felt that he was bound, and gagged, and fettered hand
and foot. Mascarin swallowed some of the cooling draught that stood
before him, and tranquilly commenced,--
“Suppose, Catenac, that I were to tell you that I know far more of the
Champdoce matter than you do; for, after all, your knowledge is only
derived from what the Duke has told you. You think that you have hit
upon the truth; you were never more mistaken in your life. I, perhaps
you are unaware, have been many years engaged in this matter. Perhaps
you would like to know how I first thought of the affair. Do you
remember that solicitor who had an office near the Law Courts, and did
a great deal of blackmail business? If you do, you must remember that he
got two years’ hard labor.”
“Yes, I remember the man,” returned Catenac in a humble voice.
“He used,” continued Mascarin, “to buy up waste paper, and search
through the piles he had collected for any matters that might be
concealed in the heterogeneous mass. And many things he must have found.
In what sensational case have not letters played a prominent part? What
man is there who has not at one time or other regretted that he has had
pen and ink ready to his hand? If men were wise, they would use those
patent inks, which fade from the paper in a few days. I followed his
example, and, among other strange discoveries, I made this one.”
He took from his desk a piece of paper--ragged, dirty, and creased--and,
handing it to Hortebise and Paul, said,--
“Read!”
They did so, and read the following strange word:
“TNAFNEERTONIOMZEDNEREITIPZEYAETNECONNISIUSEJECARG;”
while underneath was written in another hand the word, “Never.”
“It was evident that I had in my hands a letter written in cipher, and I
concluded that the paper contained some important secret.”
Catenac listened to this narrative with an air of contempt, for he was
one of those foolish men who never know when it is best for them to
yield.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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