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:
The scene which followed was unfolded with the swiftness of a flash of lightning against a black sky.
Drawing a tiny revolver from her sleeve, Germaine fired three times at the reporter. Then collapsing suddenly in a nervous crisis, she dropped her weapon and fell on the sidewalk, which was reddened by the blood of her victim.
But the victim was not Henri Henry. Some one had thrown himself between the journalist and Germaine at the very moment she was aiming her revolver; it was the poor negro, who now lay at their feet, his black skin pierced by the three bullets.
He had been faithful unto death to the master to whom he had voluntarily given himself.
The police, attracted by the noise, quickly carried the wounded man and the sick girl into a near-by drug store. There, while the two patients received the necessary attention, Henry described the event in terms which considerably distorted the truth.
The negro, according to his story, had himself fired the three shots, and the girl had fainted in terror at witnessing the suicide.
As Brunnel and Mainfroy confirmed Henry’s words and as there had been no other witnesses to the attack, the police, who recognized their former superiors, did not for a second doubt the truth of this account.
The negro was too seriously wounded to be questioned himself. The doctor who examined him announced that he must be taken at once to the hospital, where Henry resolved to visit him.
In the depths of his heart the journalist was ashamed of the lies he had told about the loyal black. But the police must not be allowed to take charge of Germaine Praline. In the interests of the investigation he was carrying out, the young girl must remain at Henry’s disposition. She had certainly been nothing but an instrument in this matter, in Brandon’s hands, a marionette of which Brancion held the strings.
The reporter must know by what devilish means the scoundrel exercised this almost supernatural power. Germaine alone could tell him.
The formalities were completed in quick order, thanks to the good relations Brunnel had maintained with his successor, the commissioner in the Military School District. The latter even promised to see that the press did not get hold of this “painful incident.”
Germaine, who had returned to her senses, allowed herself to be led to the studio without seeming to understand where she was going. As the janitress watched her with a malevolent eye, Henry explained her presence, with a little embarrassment, by saying: “She’s the model for a new picture.”
This seemed plausible to his stem guardian, and she did not press the matter. Fortunately this Cerberus in petticoats had been busy upstairs when the tragic scene had taken place in the street, and had heard nothing.
As soon as the young girl, still somewhat under the influence of the nervous disturbance which had overcome her, was settled as comfortably as possible on the couch, Hector Mainfroy said to her with emotion:
“What has happened to you, Germaine?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What! You mean to say that after seriously — perhaps mortally — wounding that poor slave who threw himself between you and the man you tried kill, and you pretend not to remember anything about it?”
Germaine looked at him silently with troubled eyes.
“Germaine, darling, please say something in your own defense! At least tell me that this man who exerts a fatal influence over you, drove you to this crime! Tell me that you are sorry. Speak to me.”
The girl seemed to be still in a trance.
“I can’t stand this silence,” groaned the young lover. “Germaine, please! If you still have the slightest bit of affection for your fiancé, if you care at all what I think of you, tell me this: Why did you want to kill Henry?”
“I don’t know.”
Mainfroy pressed his hands to his temples in despair. His mind was swirling dizzily. With a great effort, however, he steadied himself. Never before had he allowed himself to betray publicly such strong signs of emotion.
Forcing his features to resume their impassive air once more, he reacted against his anger and his grief. He controlled his gestures, lowered his voice, and spoke calmly. Turning toward the two others, he said with apparent self-possession:
“I’m afraid she won’t be any use to us, at least so far as the information we want is concerned. Her inexplicable attack only complicates the matter more than ever, and Heaven knows it was complicated enough before.”
“Nevertheless I should like to know,” interrupted Henry, “why she wanted to kill me.”
Addressing himself to Germaine, he began to question her gently.
“You have no motive for hatred against me, have you, Miss Praline?” he asked.
“Oh, no! Of course, not!”
“Good. It was then out of obedience to some one else, who has power over you, that you tried to kill me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Very well. Are you allowed to tell me how you have spent the morning?”
“Certainly. I… I… oh, it’s terrible! I don’t remember anything!”
And she burst into sobs.
“Can’t you see, gentlemen,” interrupted Brunnel, “that this poor girl had no responsibility in what she did? She acted undoubtedly in a state of absolute unconsciousness, and at the suggestion of some one who exercises an unlimited domination over her mind.
“This is not the first time that dabblers in the occult sciences have made use of their knowledge to accomplish crimes. You don’t have to go back to the magicians of the Middle Ages, for examples; if you remember—”
Brunnel was off now on a stream of eloquence where it was hard to stop him. This was a favorite hobby of his, and he was ready to explain all the crimes that had hitherto defied explanation, by hypnotism.
He was convinced that this was one more example. Brancion, from his point of view, had the power to put Germaine under the influence of a hypnotic sleep and make her carry out, while in that condition, the most outrageous commands.
It must be said for Brunnel that he had never made a more successful speech in his life. No one interrupted him — which was in itself a triumph — and his audience listened with acute interest.
Germaine, whose magnificent eyes were fixed upon his face, did not miss a syllable of what he said; her expression reveled an effort to understand which was so intense that it gave her a deeply pathetic air.
Hector nodded his head in agreement as his former chief developed his ideas. The theory put forth by Brunnel and the arguments which supported it brought a great sense of relief to the young man. The sadness which had darkened his face gradually lifted. The conviction that Germaine, in spite of all appearances, was really innocent took root in his mind and filled him with joy.
Henri Henry himself at intervals gave signs of approving Brunnel’s words. When the latter had finished his speech — everything has to end! — he turned toward Germaine and asked:
“Is that right?”
Hector’s fiancée made a gesture of exhaustion. Her face took on again its dulled and indifferent expression, and she replied:
“How do I know?”
But Mainfroy exclaimed:
“Yes! That’s certainly what happened. It couldn’t be more obvious or more logical!”
“I don’t entirely agree with you,” said Henry slowly, and as courteously as possible.
In spite of his friendly tone, the remark irritated Brunnel, who answered sharply:
“If you have a more reasonable hypothesis, let’s hear it!”
“Your theory is very ingenious and tempting,” said the reporter. “Now, why doesn’t it satisfy me completely?
“I had already thought of it several times, even before this unfortunate girl attacked me. But it doesn’t seem enough to me to explain the strange attitude in which all of the passengers of Bus 519 have persisted.