Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 28, No. 3, November 12, 1927
- Автор: Alexander R. W., Ames John
- Год: 1927
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 28, No. 3, November 12, 1927». Краткое содержание книги:
“It isn’t mentioned in my manuscript,” said the scholar naively.
“That is not surprising,” answered Henry, repressing a smile, “for it’s a question of an infinitely more modern and extraordinary discovery than that of the use of stones on pivots of the ‘blackish stuff called powder,’ as Lord Crespinoy says.
“I can only thank you, sir, for your invaluable aid. Without your help I should not have known how to get into this bandit’s cave nor how to get out, which might be more serious. I suppose you have no intention of making this astonishing document public at once?”
“You needn’t worry about that,” said Mr. du Pont. “I shan’t read it before the Academy for another fortnight. In the meantime you can take any action you see fit.”
When he came out of the scholar’s study into twentieth century Paris, with its taxis and subways, Henri Henry wondered if he was not the victim of a dream. The revelations of this old document were jumbled in his brain with thoughts of motor buses and the most modern experiments of physics.
The linking of such a representative symbol of modern life as a bus with the naive inventions of the fifteenth century literally dazed him. To clear his mind he discussed the matter with Brunnel, who found all of that quite natural, and prepared Henry for a good night’s sleep by giving him a long lecture on the inventive genius of Oriental architects.
Chapter XXXI
Amid Exploding Gun Powder
The next morning, promptly at eleven o’clock, Henry and Brunnel kept their appointment with the negro doorman and rang the bell at Brancion’s gate. This time Hector Mainfroy was with them.
The former commissioner had repeated to him, with many comments of his own, all that Henry had learned from Mr. Martin du Pont and so aroused the young man’s curiosity that Hector, knowing his fiancée to be in safety and believing her protected from Brandon’s diabolical machinations, had asked permission to join the expedition. The presence of a third person in this dangerous exploit was not to be scorned.
Henri Henry, moreover, had recognized Hector’s level-headedness on the occasion when Brunnel had received a note from his former secretary, putting the two detectives on guard against the trap their enemy had set for them. Hence the journalist made no objection to accepting this volunteer re-enforcement.
The three companions, it must be admitted, felt some uneasiness as to the outcome of their strange undertaking. The slightest incident might turn it into disaster. Suppose Brancion had stayed home instead of going out, as the negro expected? Or suppose the latter had been replaced by another servant? Or suppose—
There were so many “supposes” in this matter that Henry regretted now that he had not taken more precautions; that he had not asked his negro ally, for example, to let him know by some prearranged signal if the coast was clear. But it was too late now. They had gone too far to retreat. They must follow through to the end.
This uneasiness, however, did not last long. The negro who came to open the door was the same one who had offered himself to Henry, and the broad smile which revealed his white teeth showed that conditions were as favorable as he had promised, and as his new masters hoped.
As soon as the gate had closed behind them, Henry asked in a low tone:
“Brancion has gone out?”
The negro nodded his head.
“Good! Don’t let any one come in, not even Brancion himself, until we have gone.”
The slave made a sign that he had understood, and dropped an iron bar in place across the door, which was fastened by two padlocks. He then handed over the keys of the padlocks to the reporter.
“Perfect,” said Henry. “Now how many men are there in the house?”
The slave raised six fingers.
“Six?”
“Yes.”
“That must be right,” said Brunnel. “There were ten in all. Two have probably gone out with Brancion: the chauffeur and the footman. A third was killed the other night, in falling off the roof. Our friend here is the. fourth. That leaves six blacks in the house.”
The slave had nodded his agreement as the former commissioner made the count.
“Well,” said Mainfroy, “if there’s a fight, we’re pretty evenly matched.”
But the dumb slave, with a malicious smile, pointed toward the house, then raised five fingers and made the gesture of turning a key in a lock.
At first Henry, Brunnel, and Mainfroy did not understand this pantomime, which the negro repeated patiently. Then the reporter exclaimed:
“You mean you have locked five of them up in the house?”
“Yes, yes,” nodded the African.
“Good for you!” said Brunnel enthusiastically. “My compliments!”
“And the sixth?” asked Henry.
The slave pointed toward the flight of marble steps.
“He is in the subterranean passage?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all right. We’ll take care of him.”
And Henry started toward the steps. The slave stopped him.
“What else?” asked the journalist.
A series of gestures constituted the answer. They indicated that the negro did not know how to operate the mechanism.
Henry smiled and asked:
“Is it always Brancion himself who makes the steps open?”
“Yes.”
“But the night he. came in with the bus?”
The negro pointed toward the steps, and lifted one finger.
“Ah! The man who is in there knows the secret?”
“Yes.”
“And you have never seen how it works?”
“No.” The negro shook his head, and closed his eyes tightly.
“You all have orders to shut your eyes when your master wants the passage opened?”
“Yes.”
“And you always obey?”
In reply the slave pointed to Henry’s revolver, and imitated an expression of fear.
“So disobedience is punished with death?”
“Yes.”
“This Brancion,” said the newspaper man to his companions, “seems to inspire his servants with an unholy fear. But we are losing time. We have talked too much; or at least, I have. Don’t worry,” he continued, addressing the slave again. “I am as strong as Brancion and I shall open the passage without even making you close your eyes.”
He ran lightly up the seventeen steps.
On each side of the large door which gave entrance to the house two marble dogs crouched like guardians. In accordance with the instructions in the manuscript deciphered by Martin du Pont, Henry took hold of the left ear of the dog on the right hand side.
The journalist’s heart was beating fast. At the moment when he was about to reach the goal of his efforts, he could not escape a sudden flare of emotion. What was going to happen? Would the mechanism work? Had there been no change in all these years?
Suddenly he tightened his grip on the marble ear and turned. He immediately experienced an intense joy. A muffled explosion sounded, like a shot fired in the distance, and the central part of the flight of steps swung slowly outward, opening the passage, large enough — as the manuscript said — “for a carriage and four.” At the same time, a thick cloud of smoke filled the courtyard as far up as the second story.
Henry ran quickly down the steps of the movable part, which had carried him with it in its opening, and was the first to enter the passage. Brunnel and Mainfroy followed him.
The slave, trembling with terror, had remained in the courtyard. Behind the three men the stone door closed silently.
At the same moment, however, electric lights flashed on along the ceiling, lighting up a vast room, with a gently sloping floor, about ten yards wide and twenty long.