"In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three,There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes,Death-chambers, arrows, poison there will beAnd woe, four women crucified on tree!For thirty coffins victims thirty times."Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.The father then, coming forth of Almain,A cruel prince, obeying destiny,By thousand deaths and lingering agony,His wedded wife one night of June hath slain."Fire and loud noise will issue from the earthIn secrecy where the great treasure liesAnd man again will on the stone set eyesOnce stolen from wild men in byegone daysO'er the sea; the God-Stone which gives life or death."
"In Sarek's isle, in year fourteen and three,There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes,Death-chambers, arrows, poison there will beAnd woe, four women crucified on tree!For thirty coffins victims thirty times.
"Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.The father then, coming forth of Almain,A cruel prince, obeying destiny,By thousand deaths and lingering agony,His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.
"Fire and loud noise will issue from the earthIn secrecy where the great treasure liesAnd man again will on the stone set eyesOnce stolen from wild men in byegone daysO'er the sea; the God-Stone which gives life or death."
Don Luis Perenna had begun to read in emphatic tones, bringing out the imbecility of the words and the triteness of the rhythm. He ended in a hollow voice, without resonance, which died away in an anguished silence. The whole adventure appeared in all its horror.
He continued:
"You understand how the facts are linked together, don't you Stéphane, you who were one of the victims and who knew or know the others? So do you, Patrice, don't you? In the fifteenth century, a poor monk, with a disordered imagination and a brain haunted by infernal visions, expresses his dreams in a prophecy which we will describe as bogus, which rests on no serious data, which consists of details depending on the exigencies of the rhyme or rhythm and which certainly, both in the poet's mind and from the standpoint of originality, possesses no more value than if the poet had drawn the words at random out of a bag. The story of the God-Stone, the legends and traditions, none of all this provides him with the least element of prophecy. The worthy man evolved the prophecy from hisown consciousness, not intending any harm and simply to add a text of some sort to the margin of the devilish drawing which he had so painstakingly illuminated. And he is so pleased with it that he takes the trouble to take a pointed implement and engrave a few lines of it on one of the stones of the Fairies' Dolmen.
"Well, four or five centuries later, the prophetic page falls into the hands of a Superhun, a criminal lunatic, a madman eaten up with vanity. What does the Superhun see in it? A diverting puerile fantasy? A meaningless caprice? Not a bit of it! He regards it as a document of the highest interest, one of those documents which the most Superhunnish of his fellowcountrymen love to pore over, with this difference, that the document to his mind possesses a miraculous origin. He looks upon it as the Old and New Testament, the Scriptures which explain and expound the Sarek law, the very gospel of the God-Stone. And this gospel designates him, Vorski, him, the Superhun, as the Messiah appointed to execute the decrees of Providence.
"To Vorski, there is no possibility of mistake. No doubt he enjoys the business, because it is a matter of stealing wealth and power. But this question occupies a secondary position. He is above all obeying the mystic impulse of a race which believes itself to be marked out by destiny and which flatters itself that it is always fulfilling missions, a mission of regeneration as well as a mission of pillage, arson and murder. And Vorski reads his mission set out in full in Brother Thomas' prophecy. Brother Thomas says explicitly what has to be done and names him, Vorski, in the plainest terms, as the manof destiny. Is he not a king's son, in other words a 'prince of Almain?' Does he not come from the country where the stone was stolen from the 'wild men o'er the sea?' Has he not also a wife who is doomed, in the seer's prophecies, to the torture of the cross? Has he not two sons, one gentle and gracious as Abel, and the other wicked and uncontrolled as Cain?
"These proofs are enough for him. He now has his mobilization-papers, his marching-orders in his pocket. The gods have indicated the objective upon which he is to march; and he marches. True, there are a few living people in his path. So much the better; it is all part of the programme. For it is after all these living people have been killed and, moreover, killed in the manner announced by Brother Thomas that the task will be done, the God-Stone released and Vorski, the instrument of destiny, crowned king. Therefore, let's turn up our sleeves, take our trusty butcher's knife in hand, and get to work! Vorski will translate Brother Thomas' nightmare into real life!"
Don Luis once more addressed himself to Vorski:
"We're agreed, aren't we, Kamerad? All that I'm saying exactly expresses the truth?"
Vorski had closed his eyes, his head was drooping, and the veins on his temple were immoderately swollen. To prevent any interference by Stéphane, Don Luis exclaimed:
"You will speak, my fine fellow! Ah, the pain is beginning to grow serious, is it? The brain is giving way? . . . Remember, just one whistle, a bar or two ofTipperaryand I interrupt my speech . . . . You won't? You're not ripe yet? So much the worse for you! . . . And you, Stéphane, have no fear for François. I answer for everything. But no pity for this monster, please! No, no and again no! Don't forget that he prepared and contrived everything of his own free will! Don't forget . . . But I'm getting angry. What's the use?"
Don Luis unfolded the page of the note-book on which Vorski had written down the prophecy and, holding it under his eyes, continued:
"What remains to be said is not so important, once the general explanation is accepted. Nevertheless, we must go into detail to some slight extent, show the mechanism of the affair imagined andbuilt up by Vorski and lastly come to the part played by our attractive ancient Druid . . . . So we are now in the month of June. This is the season fixed for the execution of the thirty victims. It was evidently appointed by Brother Thomas because the rhythm of his verse called for a month in one syllable, just as the year fourteen and three was selected because three rhymes with be and tree and just as Brother Thomas decided upon the number of thirty victims because thirty is the number of the Sarek reefs and coffins. But Vorski takes it as a definite command. Thirty victims are needed in June '17. They will be provided. They will be provided on condition that the twenty-nine inhabitants of Sarek—we shall see presently that Vorski has his thirtieth victim handy—consent to stay on the island and await their destruction. Well, Vorski suddenly hears of the departure of Honorine and Maguennoc. Honorine will come back in time. But how about Maguennoc? Vorski does not hesitate: he sends Elfride and Conrad on his tracks, with instructions to kill him and to wait. He hesitates the less because he believes, from certain words which he has overheard, that Maguennoc has taken with him the precious stone, the miraculous gem which must not be touched but which must be left in its leaden sheath (this is the actual phrase used by Maguennoc)!
"Elfride and Conrad therefore set out. One morning, at an inn, Elfride mixes poison with the coffee which Maguennoc is drinking (the prophecy has stated that there will be poison). Maguennoc continues his journey. But in an hour or two he is seized with intolerable pain and dies, almost immediately, on the bank by the road-side. Elfride and Conrad come up and go through his pockets. They find nothing, no gem, no precious stone. Vorski's hopes have not been realized. All the same, the corpse is there. What are they to do with it? For the time being, they fling it into a half-demolished hut, which Vorski and his accomplices had visited some months before. Here Véronique d'Hergemont discovers the body . . . and an hour later fails to find it there. Elfride and Conrad, keeping watch close at hand, have taken it away and hidden it, still for the time being, in the cellars of a little empty country-house.
"There's one victim accounted for. We may observe, in passing, that Maguennoc's predictions relating to the order in which the thirty victims are to be executed—beginning with himself—have no basis. The prophecy doesn't mention such a thing. In any case, Vorski goes to work at random. At Sarek he carries off François and Stéphane Maroux and then, both as a measure of precaution and in order to cross the island without attracting attention and to enter the Priory more easily, he dresses himself in Stéphane's clothes, while Raynold puts on François'. The job before them is an easy one. The only people in the house are an old man, M. d'Hergemont, and a woman, Marie Le Goff. As soon as these are got rid of, the rooms and Maguennoc's in particular will be searched. Vorski, as yet unaware of the result of Elfride's expedition, would not be surprised if Maguennoc had left the miraculous jewel at the Priory.
"The first to fall is the cook, Marie Le Goff, whom Vorski takes by the throat and stabs with aknife. But it so happens that the ruffian's face gets covered with blood; and, seized with one of those fits of cowardice to which he is subject, he runs away, after loosing Raynold upon M. d'Hergemont.
"The fight between the boy and the old man is a long one. It is continued through the house and, by a tragic chance, ends before Véronique d'Hergemont's eyes. M. d'Hergemont is killed. Honorine arrives at the same moment. She drops, making the fourth victim.
"Matters now begin to go quickly. Panic sets in during the night. The people of Sarek, frightened out of their wits, seeing that Maguennoc's predictions are being fulfilled and that the hour of the disaster which has so long threatened their island is about to strike, make up their minds to go. This is what Vorski and his son are waiting for. Taking up their position in the motor-boat which they have stolen, they rush after the runaways and the abominable hunt begins, the great disaster foretold by Brother Thomas:
"'There will be shipwrecks, terrors, grief and crimes.'
"Honorine, who witnesses the scene and whose brain is already greatly upset, goes mad and throws herself from the cliff.
"Thereupon we have a lull of a few days, during which Véronique d'Hergemont explores the Priory and the island without being disturbed. As a matter of fact, after their successful hunt, leaving only Otto, who spends his time drinking in the cells, the father and son have gone off in the boat to fetch Elfride and Conrad and to bring back Maguennoc's body and fling it in the water withinsight of Sarek, since Maguennoc of necessity has one of the thirty coffins earmarked for his reception.
"At that moment, that is when he returns to Sarek, Vorski's bag numbers twenty-four victims. Stéphane and François are prisoners, guarded by Otto. The rest consists of four women reserved for crucifixion, including the three sisters Archignat, all locked up in their wash-house. It is their turn next. Véronique d'Hergemont tries to release them, but it is too late. Waylaid by the band, shot at by Raynold, who is an expert archer, the sisters Archignat are wounded by arrows (for arrows, see the prophecy) and fall into the enemy's hands. That same evening they are strung up on the three oaks, after Vorski has first relieved them of the fifty thousand-franc notes which they carried concealed on their persons. Total: twenty-nine victims. Who will be the thirtieth? Who will be the fourth woman?"
Don Luis paused and continued:
"As to this, the prophecy speaks very plainly in two places, each of which complements the other:
"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.'
"And, a few lines lower down:
"'His wedded wife one night in June hath slain.'
"Vorski, from the moment when he became aware of this document, had interpreted the two lines in his own fashion. Being, in fact, unable at that time to dispose of Véronique, for whom he has vainly been hunting all over France, he temporizes with the decrees of destiny. The fourth woman to be tortured shall be a wife, but she shall be his first wife, Elfride. And this will not be absolutely contrary to the prophecy, which, if need be, can applyto the mother of Cain just as well as to the mother of Abel. And observe that the other prophecy, that which was communicated to him by word of mouth in the old days, also failed to specify the woman who was to die:
"'Vorski's wife shall perish on the cross.'
"Which wife? Elfride.
"So his dear, devoted accomplice is to perish. It's terrible for Vorski; it breaks his heart. But the god Moloch must be obeyed; and, considering that Vorski, to accomplish his task, decided to sacrifice his son Raynold, it would be inexcusable if he refused to sacrifice his wife Elfride. So all will be well.
"But, suddenly, a dramatic incident occurs. While pursuing the sisters Archignat, he sees and recognizes Véronique d'Hergemont!
"A man like Vorski could not fail to behold in this yet another favour vouchsafed by the powers above. The woman whom he has never forgotten is sent to him at the very moment when she is to take her place in the great adventure. She is given to him as a miraculous victim which he can destroy . . . or conquer. What a prospect! And how the heavens brighten with unexpected light! Vorski loses his head. He becomes more and more convinced that he is the Messiah, the chosen one, the apostle, missionary, the man who is 'obeying destiny.' He is linked up with the line of the high-priests, the guardians of the God-Stone. He is a Druid, an arch-druid; and, as such, on the night when Véronique d'Hergemont burns the bridge, on the sixth night after the moon, he goes and cuts the sacred mistletoe with a golden sickle!
"And the siege of the Priory begins. I will not linger over this. Véronique d'Hergemont has told you the whole story, Stéphane, and we know her sufferings, the part played by the delightful All's Well, the discovery of the underground passage and the cells, the fight for François, the fight for you, Stéphane, whom Vorski imprisoned in one of the torture-cells called 'death-chambers' in the prophecy. Here you are surprised with Madame d'Hergemont. The young monster, Raynold, hurls you into the sea. François and his mother escape. Unfortunately, Vorski and his band succeed in reaching the Priory. François is captured. His mother joins him. And then . . . and then the most tragic scenes ensue, scenes upon which I will not enlarge: the interview between Vorski and Véronique d'Hergemont, the duel between the two brothers, between Cain and Abel, before Véronique d'Hergemont's very eyes. For the prophecy insists upon it:
"'Before his mother's eyes, Abel kills Cain.'
"And the prophecy likewise demands that she shall suffer beyond expression and that Vorski shall be subtle in doing evil. 'A cruel prince,' he puts marks on the two combatants; and, when Abel is on the point of being defeated, he himself wounds Cain so that Cain may be killed.
"The monster is mad. He's mad and drunk. The climax is close at hand. He drinks and drinks; for Véronique d'Hergemont's martyrdom is to take place that evening:
"'By thousand deaths and lingering agony,His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.'
"'By thousand deaths and lingering agony,His wedded wife one night of June hath slain.'
"The thousand deaths Véronique has already undergone; and the agony will be lingering. The hour comes. Supper, funeral procession, preparations, the setting up of the ladder, the binding of the victim and then . . . and then the ancient Druid!"
Don Luis gave a hearty laugh as he uttered the last words:
"Here, upon my word, things begin to get amusing! From this moment onward, tragedy goes hand in hand with comedy, the gruesome with the burlesque. Oh, that ancient Druid, what a caution! To you, Stéphane, and you, Patrice, who were behind the scenes, the story is devoid of interest. But to you, Vorski, what exciting revelations! . . . I say, Otto, just put the ladder against the trunk of the tree, so that your employer can rest his feet on the top rung. Is that easier for you, Vorski? Mark you, my little attention does not come from any ridiculous feeling of pity. Oh, dear, no! But I'm afraid that you might go phut; and besides I want you to be in a comfortable position to listen to the ancient Druid's confession."
He had another burst of laughter. There was no doubt about it: the ancient Druid was a great source of entertainment to Don Luis.
"The ancient Druid's arrival," he said, "introduces order and reason into the adventure. What was loose and vague becomes more compact. Incoherent crime turns into logical punishment. We have no longer blind obedience to Brother Thomas' doggerel, but the submission to common sense, the rigorous method of a man who knows what he wants and who has no time to lose. Really, the ancient Druid deserves all our admiration.
"The ancient Druid, whom we may call either Don Luis Perenna or Arsène Lupin—you suspect that, don't you?—knew very little of the story when the periscope of his submarine, theCrystal Stopper, emerged in sight of the coast of Sarek at mid-day yesterday."
"Very little?" Stéphane Maroux cried, in spite of himself.
"One might say, nothing," Don Luis declared.
"What! All those facts about Vorski's past, all those precise details about what he did at Sarek, about his plans and the part played by Elfride and the poisoning of Maguennoc?"
"I learnt all that here, yesterday," said Don Luis.
"But from whom? We never left one another?"
"Believe me when I say that the ancient Druid, when he landed yesterday on the coast of Sarek, knew nothing at all. But the ancient Druid lays claim to be at least as great a favourite of the gods as you are, Vorski. And in fact he at once had the luck to see, on a lonely little beach, our friend Stéphane, who himself had had the luck to fall into a pretty deep pool of water and thus to escape the fate which you and your son had prepared for him. Rescue-work, conversation. In half an hour, the ancient Druid had the facts. Forthwith, investigations. He ended by reaching the cells, where he found in yours, Vorski, a white robe which he needed for his own use and a scrap of paper with a copy of the prophecy written by yourself. Excellent. The ancient Druid knows the enemy's plans.
"He begins by following the tunnel down whichFrançois and his mother fled, but is unable to pass because of the subsidence which has been produced. He retraces his steps and comes out on the Black Heath. Exploration of the island. Meeting with Otto and Conrad. The enemy burns the foot-bridge. It is six o'clock in the evening. Query: how to get to the Priory? Stéphane suggests, by the Postern path. The ancient Druid returns to theCrystal Stopper. They circumnavigate the island under the direction of Stéphane, who knows all the channels—and besides, my dear Vorski, theCrystal Stopperis a very docile submarine. She can slip in anywhere; the ancient Druid had her built to his own designs—and at last they land at the spot where François' boat is hanging. Here, meeting with All's Well, who is sleeping under the boat, the ancient Druid introduces himself. Immediate display of sympathy. They make a start. But, half-way up the ascent, All's Well branches off. At this place the wall is the cliff is, so to speak, patched with movable blocks of stone. In the middle of these stones is an opening, an opening made by Maguennoc, as the ancient Druid discovered later, in order to enter the hall of sacrifices and the mortuary crypts. Thus, the ancient Druid finds himself in the thick of the plot, master above ground and below. Only, it is eight o'clock in the evening.
"As regards François, there is no immediate anxiety. The prophecy says, 'Abel kills Cain.' But Véronique d'Hergemont was to perish 'one night of June.' Had she undergone the horrible martyrdom? Was it too late to rescue her?"
Don Luis turned to Stéphane:
"You remember, Stéphane, the agony throughwhich you and the ancient Druid passed and your relief at discovering the tree prepared with the inscription, 'V. d'H.' The tree has no victim on it yet. Véronique will be saved; and in fact we hear a sound of voices coming from the Priory. It is the grim procession. It slowly climbs the grassy slope amid the thickening darkness. The lantern is waved. A halt is called. Vorski spouts and holds forth. The last scene is at hand. Soon we shall rush to the assault and Véronique will be delivered.
"But here an incident occurs which will amuse you, Vorski. Yes, we make a strange discovery, my friends and I: we find a woman prowling round the dolmen, who hides as we come up. We seize her. Stéphane recognizes her by the light of an electric torch. Do you know who it was, Vorski? I give you a hundred guesses. Elfride! Yes, Elfride, your accomplice, the one whom you meant to crucify at first! Curious, wasn't it? In an extreme state of excitement, half crazy, she tells us that she consented to the duel between the two boys on your promise that her son would be the victor and kill Véronique's son. But you had locked her up, in the morning; and, in the evening, when she succeeded in making her escape, it was Raynold's dead body that she found. She has now come to be present at the torture of the rival whom she detests and then to avenge herself on you and kill you, my poor old chap.
"A capital idea! The ancient Druid approves; and, while you go up to the dolmen and Stéphane keeps an eye on you, he continues to question Elfride. But, lo and behold, Vorski, at the sound of yourvoice, the jade begins to kick! She veers round unexpectedly. Her master's voice stimulates her to an unparalleled display of ardour. She wants to see you, to warn you of your danger, to save you; and suddenly she makes a rush at the ancient Druid with a dagger in her hand. The ancient Druid is obliged, in self-defence, to knock her down, half-stunning her; and the sight of this moribund woman at once suggests to him a means of turning the incident to good account. The wretched creature is tied up in the twinkling of an eye. The ancient Druid intends you yourself to punish her, Vorski, and make her undergo the fate which you had reserved for her before. So he slips his robe on Stéphane, gives him his instructions, shoots an arrow in your direction the moment you come up and, while you go running in pursuit of a white robe, does a conjuring-trick and substitutes Elfride for Véronique, the first wife for the second. How? That's my business. All you need know is that the trick was played and succeeded to perfection!" Don Luis stopped to draw breath. One would really have thought, from his familiar and confidential tone, that he was telling Vorski an amusing story, a good joke, which Vorski ought to be the first to laugh at.
"That's not all," he continued. "Patrice Belval and some of my Moors—you may as well know that we have eighteen of them on board—have been working in the underground rooms. There's no getting away from the prophecy. The moment the wife has expired
"'Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth.In secrecy where the great treasure lies.'
"'Fire and loud noise will issue from the earth.In secrecy where the great treasure lies.'
"Of course, Brother Thomas never knew where the great treasure lay, nor did any one else. But the ancient Druid has guessed; and he wants Vorski to receive his signal and to drop ready-roasted into his mouth. For this he needs an outlet issuing near the Fairies' Dolmen. Captain Belval looks for one and finds it. They clear an old stairway. They clear the inside of the dead tree. They take from the submarine some dynamite-cartridges and signal-rockets and place them in position. And, when you, Vorski, from your perch, start proclaiming like a herald, 'She's dead! The fourth woman has died upon the cross!' bang, bang, bang! Thunder, flame, uproar, the whole bag of tricks. That does it: you are more and more the darling of the gods, the pet of destiny; and you burn with the noble longing to fling yourself down the chimney and gobble up the God-Stone. Next day, therefore, after sleeping off your brandy and your rum, you start to work again, smiling. You killed your thirty victims, according to the rites prescribed by Brother Thomas. You have surmounted every obstacle. The prophecy is fulfilled.
"'And man again will on the stone set eyesOnce stolen from wild men in bye-gone daysO'er sea: the God-stone which gives life or death.'
"'And man again will on the stone set eyesOnce stolen from wild men in bye-gone daysO'er sea: the God-stone which gives life or death.'
"The ancient Druid has no choice but to give in and to hand you the key of Paradise. But first, of course, a little interlude, a few capers and wizard's tricks, just for a bit of fun. And then hey for the God-Stone guarded by the Sleeping Beauty!"
Don Luis nimbly cut a few of those capers of which he seemed so fond. Then he said to Vorski:
"Well, old chap, I have a vague impression that you've had enough of my speech and that you would prefer to reveal François' hiding-place to me at once, rather then stay here any longer. I'm awfully sorry, but you really must learn how the matter stands with the Sleeping Beauty and the unexpected presence of Véronique d'Hergemont. However, two minutes will be sufficient. Pardon me."
Dropping the character of the ancient Druid and speaking in his own name, Don Luis continued:
"What you want to know is why I took Véronique d'Hergemont to that place after snatching her from your clutches. The answer is very simple. Where would you have me take her? To the submarine? An absurd suggestion! The sea was rough that night and Véronique needed rest. To the Priory? Never! That would have been too far from the scene of operations and I should have had no peace of mind. In reality there was only one place sheltered from the storm and sheltered from attack; and that was the hall of sacrifices. That was why I took her there and why she was sleeping there, quietly, under the influence of a strong narcotic, when you saw her. I confess that the pleasure of treating you to this spectacle counted for something in my decision. And how splendidly I was rewarded! Oh, if you could have seen the face you pulled! Such a ghastly sight! Véronique raised from the dead! Véronique brought back to life! So horrible was the vision that you ran away helter-skelter.
"But to cut a long story short: you find the exit blocked. Thereupon you change your mind. Conrad returns to the offensive. He attacks me bystealth while I am preparing to move Véronique d'Hergemont to the submarine. Conrad receives a mortal blow from one of the Moors. Second comic interlude. Conrad, dressed up in the ancient Druid's robe, is laid on the floor in one of the crypts; and of course your first thought is to leap on him and wreak your vengeance on him. And, when you see Elfride's body, which has taken the place of Véronique d'Hergemont in the sacred table, whoosh . . . you jump on that too and reduce the woman whom you have already crucified to a bleeding pulp! Blunder upon blunder! And the end of the whole story likewise strikes a comic note. You are strung up on the pillory while I deliver straight at you a speech which does for you and which proves that, if you have won the God-Stone by virtue of your thirty coffins, I am taking possession of it by my own intrinsic virtue. There's the whole adventure for you, my dear Vorski. Except for a few secondary incidents, or some others, of greater importance, which there is no need for you to know, you know as much as I do. You've been quite comfortable and have had lots of time to think. So I am confidently expecting your answer about François. Come, out with your little song:
"'It's a long, long way to Tipperary.It's a long way to go . . . .'
"'It's a long, long way to Tipperary.It's a long way to go . . . .'
"Well? Are you feeling in a chatty mood?"
Don Luis had climbed a few rungs. Stéphane and Patrice had come near and were anxiously listening. It was evident that Vorski meant to speak.
He had opened his eyes and was staring at Don Luis with a look of mingled hatred and fear. Thisextraordinary man must have appeared to him as one of those persons against whom it is absolutely useless to fight and to whom it is equally useless to appeal for compassion. Don Luis represented the conqueror; and, in the presence of one stronger than yourself, there is nothing for it but to yield in all humility. Besides, Vorski was incapable of further resistance. The torture was becoming intolerable.
He spoke a few words in an unintelligible voice.
"A little louder, please," said Don Luis. "I can't hear. Where's François?"
He climbed the ladder. Vorski stammered:
"Shall I be free?"
"On my word of honour. We shall all leave this place, except Otto, who will release you."
"At once?"
"At once."
"Then . . ."
"Then what?"
"Well, François is alive."
"You mutton-head. I know that. But where is he?"
"Tied into the boat."
"The one hanging at the foot of the cliff?"
"Yes."
Don Luis struck his forehead with his hand:
"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! . . . Don't mind: I'm speaking of myself. Yes, I ought to have guessed that! Why, All's Well was sleeping under the boat, peacefully, like a good dog sleeping beside his master! Why, when we sent All's Well on François' trail, he led Stéphane straight to the boat. It's true enough, there are times when the cleverest ofus behave like simpletons! But you, Vorski, did you know that there was a way down there and a boat?"
"I knew it since yesterday."
"And, you artful dog, you intended to skedaddle in her?"
"Yes."
"Well, Vorski, you shall skedaddle in her, with Otto. I'll leave her for you. Stéphane!"
But Stéphane Maroux was already running towards the cliff, escorted by All's Well.
"Release him, Stéphane," cried Don Luis.
And he added, addressing the Moors:
"Help him, you others. And get the submarine under way. We shall sail in ten minutes."
He turned to Vorski:
"Good-bye, my dear chap . . . . Oh, just one more word! Every well-regulated adventure contains a love-story. Ours appears to be without one, for I should never dare to allude to the feelings that urged you towards the sainted woman who bore your name. And yet I must tell you of a very pure and noble affection. Did you notice the eagerness with which Stéphane flew to François' assistance? Obviously he loves his young pupil, but he loves the mother still more. And, since everything that pleases Véronique d'Hergemont is bound to please you, I wish to admit that he is not indifferent to her, that his wonderful love has touched her heart, that it was with real joy that she saw him restored to her this morning and that this will all end in a wedding . . . as soon as she's a widow, of course. You follow me, don't you? The only obstacle to their happiness is yourself. Therefore, as you area perfect little gentleman, you will not like to . . . But I need not go on. I rely on your good manners to die as soon as you can. Good-bye, old fellow, I won't offer you my hand, but my heart's with you. Otto, in ten minutes, unless you hear to the contrary, release your employer. You'll find the boat at the bottom of the cliff. Good luck, my friends!"
It was finished. The battle between Don Luis and Vorski was ended: and the issue had not been in doubt for a single instant. From the first minute, one of the two adversaries had so consistently dominated the other, that the latter, in spite of all his daring and his training as a criminal, had been nothing more than a grotesque, absurd, disjointed puppet in his opponent's hands. After succeeding in the entire execution of his plan, after attaining and surpassing his object, he, the master of events, in the moment of victory, found himself suddenly strung up on the tree of torture; and there he remained, gasping and captive like an insect pinned to a strip of cork.
Without troubling any further about his victims, Don Luis went off with Patrice Belval, who could not help saying to him:
"All the same, you're letting those vile scoundrels down very lightly!"
"Pooh, it won't be long before they get themselves nabbed elsewhere," said Don Luis, chuckling. "What do you expect them to do?"
"Well, first of all, to take the God-Stone."
"Out of the question! It would need twenty men to do that, with a scaffolding and machinery. I myself am giving up the idea for the present. I shall come back after the war."
"But, look here, Don Luis, what is this miraculous stone?"
"Ah, now you're asking something!" said Don Luis, without making further reply.
They set out; and Don Luis, rubbing his hands, said:
"I worked the thing well. It's not much over twenty-four hours since we landed at Sarek. And the riddle had lasted twenty-four centuries. One century an hour. My congratulations, Lupin."
"I should be glad to offer you mine, Don Luis," said Patrice Belval, "but they are not worth as much as those of an expert like yourself."
When they reached the sands of the little beach, François' boat had already been lowered and was empty. Farther away, on the right, theCrystal Stopperwas floating on the calm sea. François came running up to them, stopped a few yards from Don Luis and looked at him with wide-open eyes:
"I say," he murmured, "then it's you? It's you I was expecting?"
"Faith," said Don Luis, laughing. "I don't know if you were expecting me . . . but I'm sure it's me!"
"You . . . you . . . Don Luis Perenna! . . . That is to say . . ."
"Hush, no other names! Perenna's enough for me . . . . Besides, we won't talk about me, if you don't mind. I was just a chance, a gentleman who happened to drop in at the right moment. Whereas you . . . by Jove, youngster, but you've done jolly well! . . . So you spent the night in the boat?"
"Yes, under the tarpaulin, lashed to the bottom and tightly gagged."
"Uncomfortable?"
"Not at all. I hadn't been there ten minutes when All's Well appeared. So . . ."
"But the man, the scoundrel: what had he threatened to do to you?"
"Nothing. After the duel, while the others were attending to my opponent, he brought me down here, pretending that he was going to take me to mother and put us both on board the boat. Then, when we got to the boat, he laid hold of me without a word."
"Do you know the man? Do you know his name?"
"I know nothing about him. All I can say is that he was persecuting us, mother and me."
"For reasons which I shall explain to you, François. In any case, you have nothing to fear from him now."
"Oh, but you haven't killed him?"
"No, but I have put it out of his power to do any more harm. This will all be explained to you; but I think that, for the moment, the most urgent thing is that we should go to your mother."
"Stéphane told me that she was resting over there, in the submarine, and that you had saved her too. Does she expect me?"
"Yes; we had a talk last night, she and I, and I promised to find you. I felt that she trusted me. All the same, Stéphane, you had better go ahead and prepare her."
TheCrystal Stopperlay at the end of a reef of rocks which formed a sort of natural jetty. Some ten or twelve Moors were running to and fro. Two had drawn apart and were whispering together.Two of them were holding a gangway which Don Luis and François crossed a minute later.
In one of the cabins, arranged as a drawing-room, Véronique lay stretched on a couch. Her pale face bore the marks of the unspeakable suffering which she had undergone. She seemed very weak, very weary. But her eyes, full of tears, were bright with happiness.
François rushed into her arms. She burst into sobs, without speaking a word.
Opposite them, All's Well, seated on his haunches, beat the air with his fore-paws and looked at them, with his head a little on one side:
"Mother," said François, "Don Luis is here."
She took Don Luis' hand and pressed a long kiss upon it, while François murmured:
"You saved mother . . . . You saved us both . . . ."
Don Luis interrupted him:
"Will you give me pleasure, François? Well, don't thank me. If you really want to thank somebody, there, thank your friend All's Well. He does not look as if he had played a very important part in the piece. And yet, compared with the scoundrel who persecuted you, he was the good genius, always discreet, intelligent, modest and silent."
"So are you!"
"Oh, I am neither modest nor silent; and that's why I admire All's Well. Here, All's Well, come along with me and, for goodness' sake, stop sitting up! You might have to do it all night, for they will be shedding tears together for hours, the mother and son . . . ."
TheCrystal Stopperwas running on the surface of the water. Don Luis sat talking, with Stéphane, Patrice and All's Well, who were gathered round him:
"What a swine that Vorski is!" he said. "I've seen that breed of monster before, but never one of his calibre."
"Then, in that case . . ." Patrice Belval objected.
"In that case?" echoed Don Luis.
"I repeat what I've said already. You hold a monster in your hands and you let him go free! To say nothing of its being highly immoral, think of all the harm that he can do, that he inevitably will do! It's a heavy responsibility to take upon yourself, that of the crimes which he will still commit."
"Do you think so too, Stéphane?" asked Don Luis.
"I'm not quite sure what I think," replied Stéphane, "because, to save François, I was prepared to make any concession. But, all the same . . ."
"All the same, you would rather have had another solution?"
"Frankly, yes. So long as that man is alive and free, Madame d'Hergemont and her son will have everything to fear from him."
"But what other solution was there? I promised him his liberty in return for François' immediate safety. Ought I to have promised him only his life and handed him over to the police?"
"Perhaps," said Captain Belval.
"Very well. But, in that case, the police would institute enquiries, and by discovering the fellow's real identity bring back to life the husband of Véronique d'Hergemont and the father of François. Is that what you want?"
"No, no!" cried Stéphane, eagerly.
"No, indeed," confessed Patrice Belval, a little uneasily. "No, that solution is no better; but what astonishes me is that you, Don Luis, did not hit upon the right one, the one which would have satisfied us all."
"There was only one solution," Don Luis Perenna said, plainly. "There was only one."
"Which was that?"
"Death."
There was a pause. Then Don Luis resumed:
"My friends, I did not form you into a court simply as a joke; and you must not think that your parts as judges are played because the trial seems to you to be over. It is still going on; and the court has not risen. That is why I want you to answer me honestly: do you consider that Vorski deserves to die?"
"Yes," declared Patrice.
And Stéphane approved:
"Yes, beyond a doubt."
"My friends," Don Luis continued, "your verdict is not sufficiently solemn. I beseech you to utter it formally and conscientiously, as though you werein the presence of the culprit. I ask you once more: what penalty did Vorski deserve?"
They raised their hands and, one after the other, answered:
"Death."
Don Luis whistled. One of the Moors ran up.
"Two pairs of binoculars, Hadji."
The man brought the glasses and Don Luis handed them to Stéphane and Patrice:
"We are only a mile from Sarek," he said. "Look towards the point: the boat should have started."
"Yes," said Patrice, presently.
"Do you see her, Stéphane?"
"Yes, only . . ."
"Only what?"
"There's only one passenger."
"Yes," said Patrice, "only one passenger."
They put down their binoculars and one of them said:
"Only one has got away: Vorski evidently. He must have killed Otto, his accomplice."
"Unless Otto, his accomplice, has killed him," chuckled Don Luis.
"What makes you say that?"
"Why, remember the prophecy made to Vorski in his youth: 'Your wife will die on the cross and you will be killed by a friend.'"
"I doubt if a prediction is enough."
"I have other proofs, though."
"What proofs?"
"They, my friends, form part of the last problem we shall have to elucidate together. For instance, what is your idea of the manner in whichI substituted Elfride Vorski for Madame d'Hergemont?"
Stéphane shook his head:
"I confess that I never understood."
"And yet it's so simple! When a gentleman in a drawing-room, in a white tie and a tail-coat, performs conjuring-tricks or guesses your thoughts, you say to yourself, don't you, that there must be some artifice beneath it all, the assistance of a confederate? Well, you need seek no farther where I'm concerned."
"What, you had a confederate?"
"Yes, certainly."
"But who was he?"
"Otto."
"Otto? But you never left us! You never spoke to him, surely?"
"How could I have succeeded without his help? In reality, I had two confederates in this business, Elfride and Otto, both of whom betrayed Vorski, either out of revenge or out of greed. While you, Stéphane, were luring Vorski past the Fairies' Dolmen, I accosted Otto. We soon struck a bargain, at the cost of a few bank-notes and in return for a promise that he would come out of the adventure safe and sound. Moreover I informed him that Vorski had pouched the sisters Archignat's fifty thousand francs."
"How did you know that?" asked Stéphane.
"Through my confederate number one, through Elfride, whom I continued to question in a whisper while you were looking out for Vorski's coming and who also, in a few brief words, told me what she knew of Vorski's past."
"When all is said, you only saw Otto that once."
"Two hours later, after Elfride's death and after the fireworks in the hollow oak, we had a second interview, under the Fairies' Dolmen. Vorski was asleep, stupefied with drink, and Otto was mounting guard. You can imagine that I seized the opportunity to obtain particulars of the business and to complete my information about Vorski with the details which Otto for two years had been secretly collecting about a chief whom he detested. Then he unloaded Vorski's and Conrad's revolvers, or rather he removed the bullets, while leaving the cartridges. Then he handed me Vorski's watch and note-book, as well as an empty locket and a photograph of Vorski's mother which Otto had stolen from him some months before, things which helped me next day to play the wizard with the aforesaid Vorski in the crypt where he found me. That is how Otto and I collaborated."
"Very well," said Patrice, "but still you didn't ask him to kill Vorski?"
"Certainly not."
"In that case, how are we to know that . . ."
"Do you think that Vorski did not end by discovering our collaboration, which is one of the obvious causes of his defeat? And do you imagine that Master Otto did not foresee this contingency? You may be sure that there was no doubt of this: Vorski, once unfastened from his tree, would have made away with his accomplice, both from motives of revenge and in order to recover the sisters Archignat's fifty thousand francs. Otto got the start of him. Vorski was there, helpless, lifeless, an easy prey. He struck him a blow. I will go farther andsay that Otto, who is a coward, did not even strike him a blow. He will simply have left Vorski on his tree. And so the punishment is complete. Are you appeased now, my friends? Is your craving for justice satisfied?"
Patrice and Stéphane were silent, impressed by the terrible vision which Don Luis was conjuring up before their eyes.
"There," he said, laughing, "I was right not to make you pronounce sentence over there, when we were standing at the foot of the oak, with the live man in front of us! I can see that my two judges might have flinched a little at that moment. And so would my third judge, eh, All's Well, you sensitive, tearful fellow? And I am like you, my friends. We are not people who condemn and execute. But, all the same, think of what Vorski was, think of his thirty murders and his refinements of cruelty and congratulate me on having, in the last resort, chosen blind destiny as his judge and the loathsome Otto as his responsible executioner. The will of the gods be done!"
The Sarek coast was making a thinner line on the horizon. It disappeared in the mist in which sea and sky were merged.
The three men were silent. All three were thinking of the isle of the dead, laid waste by one man's madness, the isle of the dead where soon some visitor would find the inexplicable traces of the tragedy, the entrances to the tunnels, the cells with their "death-chambers," the hall of the God-Stone, the mortuary crypts, Elfride's body, Conrad's body, the skeletons of the sisters Archignat and, right at the end of the island, near the Fairies' Dolmen,where the prophecy of the thirty coffins and the four crosses was written for all to read, Vorski's great body, lonely and pitiable, mangled by the ravens and owls.
A villa near Arcachon, in the pretty village of Les Moulleaux, whose pine-trees run down to the shores of the gulf.
Véronique is sitting in the garden. A week's rest and happiness have restored the colour to her comely face and assuaged all evil memories. She is looking with a smile at her son, who, standing a little way off, is listening to and questioning Don Luis Perenna. She also looks at Stéphane; and their eyes meet gently.
It is easy to see that the affection in which they both hold the boy is a link which unites them closely and which is strengthened by their secret thoughts and their unuttered feelings. Not once has Stéphane recalled the avowals which he made in the cell, under the Black Heath; but Véronique has not forgotten them; and the profound gratitude which she feels for the man who brought up her son is mingled with a special emotion and an agitation of which she unconsciously savours the charm.
That day, Don Luis, who, on the evening when theCrystal Stopperbrought them all to the Villa des Moulleaux, had taken the train for Paris, arrived unexpectedly at lunch-time, accompanied by Patrice Belval; and during the hour that they have been sitting in their rocking-chairs in the garden, the boy, his face all pink with excitement, has never ceased to question his rescuer:
"And what did you do next? . . . But how didyou know? . . . And what put you on the track of that?"
"My darling," says Véronique, "aren't you afraid of boring Don Luis?"
"No, madame," replies Don Luis, rising, going up to Véronique and speaking in such a way that the boy cannot hear, "no, François is not boring me; and in fact I like answering his questions. But I confess that he perplexes me a little and that I am afraid of saying something awkward. Tell me, how much exactly does he know of the whole story?"
"As much as I know myself, except Vorski's name, of course."
"But does he know the part which Vorski played?"
"Yes, but with certain differences. He thinks that Vorski is an escaped prisoner who picked up the legend of Sarek and, in order to get hold of the God-Stone, proceeded to carry out the prophecy touching it. I have kept some of the lines of the prophecy from François."
"And the part played by Elfride? Her hatred for you? The threats she made you?"
"Madwoman's talk, I told François, of which I myself did not understand the meaning."
Don Luis smiled:
"The explanation is a little arbitrary; and I have a notion that François quite well understands that certain parts of the tragedy remain and must remain obscure to him. The great thing, don't you think, is that he should not know that Vorski was his father?"
"He does not know and he never will."
"And then—and this is what I was coming to—what name will he bear himself?"
"What do you mean?"
"Whose son will he believe himself to be? For you know as well as I do that the legal reality is this, that François Vorski died fifteen years ago, drowned in a shipwreck, and his grandfather with him. And Vorski died last year, stabbed by a fellow-prisoner. Neither of them is alive in the eyes of the law. So . . ."
Véronique nodded her head and smiled:
"So I don't know. The position seems to me, as you say, incapable of explanation. But everything will come out all right."
"Why?"
"Because you're here to do it."
It was his turn to smile:
"I can no longer take credit for the actions which I perform or the steps which I take. Everything is arranging itselfa priori. Then why worry?"
"Am I not right to?"
"Yes," he said, gravely. "The woman who has suffered all that you have must not be subjected to the least additional annoyance. And nothing shall happen to her after this, I swear. So what I suggest to you is this: long ago, you married against your father's wish a very distant cousin, who died after leaving you a son, François. This son your father, to be revenged upon you, kidnapped and brought to Sarek. At your father's death, the name of d'Hergemont became extinct and there is nothing to recall the events of your marriage."
"But my name remains. Legally, in the official records, I am Véronique d'Hergemont."
"Your maiden name disappears under your married name."
"You mean under that of Vorski."
"No, because you did not marry that fellow Vorski, but one of your cousins called . . ."
"Called what?"
"Jean Maroux. Here is a stamped certificate of your marriage to Jean Maroux, a marriage mentioned in your official records, as this other document shows."
Véronique looked at Don Luis in amazement:
"But why? Why that name?"
"Why? So that your son may be neither d'Hergemont, which would have recalled past events, nor Vorski, which would have recalled the name of a traitor. Here is his birth-certificate, as François Maroux."
She repeated, all blushing and confused:
"But why did you choose just that name?"
"It seemed easy for François. It's the name of Stéphane, with whom François will go on living for some time. We can say that Stéphane was a relation of your husband's; and this will explain the intimacy generally. That is my plan. It presents, believe me, no possible danger. When one is confronted by an inexplicable and painful position like yours, one must needs employ special means and resort to drastic and, I admit, very illegal measures. I did so without scruple, because I have the good fortune to dispose of resources which are not within everybody's reach. Do you approve of what I have done?"
Véronique bent her head:
"Yes," she said, "yes."
He half-rose from his seat:
"Besides," he added, "if there should be any drawbacks, the future will no doubt take upon itself the burden of removing them. It would be enough, for instance—there is no indiscretion, is there, in alluding to the feelings which Stéphane entertains for François' mother?—it would be enough if, one day or another, for reasons of common-sense, or reasons of gratitude, François' mother were moved to accept the homage of those feelings. How much simpler everything will be if François already bears the name of Maroux! How much more easily the past will be abolished, both for the outside world and for François, who will no longer be able to pry into the secret of bygone events which there will be nothing to recall to memory. It seemed to me that these were rather weighty arguments. I am glad to see that you share my opinion."
Don Luis bowed to Véronique and, without insisting any further, without appearing to notice her confusion, turned to François and explained:
"I'm at your orders now, young man. And, since you don't want to leave anything unexplained, let's go back to the God-Stone and the scoundrel who coveted its possession. Yes, the scoundrel," repeated Don Luis, seeing no reason not to speak of Vorski with absolute frankness, "and the most terrible scoundrel that I have ever met with, because he believed in his mission; in short, a sick-brained man, a lunatic . . ."
"Well, first of all," François observed, "what I don't understand is that you waited all night to capture him, when he and his accomplices were sleeping under the Fairies' Dolmen."
"Well done, youngster," said Don Luis, laughing, "you have put your finger on a weak point! If I had acted as you suggest, the tragedy would have been finished twelve or fifteen hours earlier. But think, would you have been released? Would the scoundrel have spoken and revealed your hiding-place? I don't think so. To loosen his tongue I had to keep him simmering. I had to make him dizzy, to drive him mad with apprehension and anguish and to convince him by means of a mass of proofs, that he was irretrievably defeated. Otherwise he would have held his tongue and we might perhaps not have found you. . . . . Besides, at that time, my plan was not very clear, I did not quite know how to wind up; and it was not until much later that I thought not of submitting him to violent torture—I am incapable of that—but of tying him to that tree on which he wanted to let your mother die. So that, in my perplexity and hesitation, I simply yielded, in the end, to the wish—the rather puerile wish, I blush to confess—to carry out the prophecy to the end, to see how the missionary would behave in the presence of the ancient Druid, in short to amuse myself. After all, the adventure was so dark and gloomy that a little fun seemed to me essential. And I laughed like blazes. That was wrong. I admit it and I apologize."
The boy was laughing too. Don Luis, who was holding him between his knees, kissed him and asked:
"Do you forgive me?"
"Yes, on condition that you answer two more questions. The first is not important."
"Ask away."
"It's about the ring. Where did you get that ring which you put first on mother's finger and afterwards on Elfride's?"
"I made it that same night, in a few minutes, out of an old wedding-ring and some coloured stones."
"But the scoundrel recognized it as having belonged to his mother."
"He thought he recognized it; and he thought it because the ring was like the other."
"But how did you know that? And how did you learn the story?"
"From himself."
"You don't mean that?"
"Certainly I do! From words that escaped him while he was sleeping under the Fairies' Dolmen. A drunkard's nightmare. Bit by bit he told the whole story of his mother. Elfride knew a good part of it besides. You see how simple it is and how my luck stood by me!"
"But the riddle of the God-Stone is not simple," François cried, "and you deciphered it! People have been trying for centuries and you took a few hours!"
"No, a few minutes, François. It was enough for me to read the letter which your grandfather wrote about it to Captain Belval. I sent your grandfather by post all the explanations as to the position and the marvellous nature of the God-Stone."
"Well," cried the boy, "it's those explanations that I'm asking of you, Don Luis. This is my lastquestion, I promise you. What made people believe in the power of the God-Stone? And what did that so-called power consist of exactly?"
Stéphane and Patrice drew up their chairs. Véronique sat up and listened. They all understood that Don Luis had waited until they were together before rending the veil of the mystery before their eyes.
He began to laugh:
"You mustn't hope for anything sensational," he said. "A mystery is worth just as much as the darkness in which it is shrouded; and, as we have begun by dispelling the darkness, nothing remains but the fact itself in its naked reality. Nevertheless the facts in this case are strange and the reality is not denuded of a certain grandeur."
"It must needs be so," said Patrice Belval, "seeing that the reality left so miraculous a legend in the isle of Sarek and even all over Brittany."
"Yes," said Don Luis, "and a legend so persistent that it influences us to this day and that not one of you has escaped the obsession of the miraculous."
"What do you mean?" protested Patrice. "I don't believe in miracles."
"No more do I," said the boy.
"Yes, you do, you believe in them, you accept miracles as possible. If not, you would long ago have seen the whole truth."
"Why?"
Don Luis picked a magnificent rose from a tree by his side and asked François:
"Is it possible for me to transform this rose, whose proportions, as it is, are larger than those arose often attains, into a flower double the size and this rose-tree into a shrub twice as tall?"
"Certainly not," said François.
"Then why did you admit, why did you all admit that Maguennoc could achieve that result, merely by digging up earth in certain parts of the island, at certain fixed hours? That was a miracle; and you accepted it without hesitation, unconsciously."
Stéphane objected:
"We accept what we saw with our eyes."
"But you accepted it as a miracle, that is to say, as a phenomenon which Maguennoc produced by special and, truth to tell, by supernatural means. Whereas I, when I read this detail in M. d'Hergemont's letter, at once—what shall I say?—caught on. I at once established the connection between those monstrous blossoms and the name borne by the Calvary of the flowers. And my conviction was immediate: 'No, Maguennoc is not a wizard. He simply cleared a piece of uncultivated land around the Calvary; and all he had to do, to produce abnormal flowers, was to bring along a layer of mould. So the God-Stone is underneath; the God-Stone which, in the middle-ages, produced the same abnormal flowers; the God-Stone, which, in the days of the Druids, healed the sick and strengthened children.'"
"Therefore," said Patrice, "there is a miracle."
"There is a miracle if we accept the supernatural explanation. There is a natural phenomenon if we look for it and if we find the physical cause capable of giving rise to the apparent miracle."
"But those physical causes don't exist! They are not present."
"They exist, because you have seen monstrous flowers."
"Then there is a stone," asked Patrice, almost chaffingly, "which can naturally give health and strength? And that stone is the God-Stone?"
"There is not a particular, individual stone. But there are stones, blocks of stone, rocks, hills and mountains of rock, which contain mineral veins formed of various metals, oxides of uranium, silver, lead, copper, nickel, cobalt and so on. And among these metals are some which emit a special radiation, endowed with peculiar properties known as radioactivity. These veins are veins of pitchblende which are found hardly anywhere in Europe except in the north of Bohemia and which are worked near the little town of Joachimsthal. And those radioactive bodies are uranium, thorium, helium and chiefly, in the case which we are considering . . ."
"Radium," François interrupted.
"You've said it, my boy: radium. Phenomena of radioactivity occur more or less everywhere; and we may say that they are manifested throughout nature, as in the healing action of thermal springs. But plainly radioactive bodies like radium possess more definite properties. For instance, there is no doubt that the rays and the emanation of radium exercise a power over the life of plants, a power similar to that caused by the passage of an electric current. In both cases, the stimulation of the nutritive centres makes the elements required by the plant more easy to assimilate and promotes its growth. In the same way, there is no doubt that the radium rays are capable of exercising a physiological actionon living tissues, by producing more or less profound modifications, destroying certain cells and contributing to develop other cells and even to control their evolution. Radiotherapy claims to have healed or improved numerous cases of rheumatism of the joints, nervous troubles, ulceration, eczema, tumours and adhesive cicatrices. In short radium is a really effective therapeutic agent."
"So," said Stéphane, "you regard the God-Stone . . ."
"I regard the God-Stone as a block of radiferous pitchblende originating from the Joachimsthal lodes. I have long known the Bohemian legend which speaks of a miraculous stone that was once removed from the side of a hill; and, when I was travelling in Bohemia, I saw the hole left by the stone. It corresponds pretty accurately with the dimensions of the God-Stone."
"But," Stéphane objected, "radium is contained in rocks only in the form of infinitesimal particles. Remember that, after a mass of fourteen hundred tons of rock have been duly mined and washed and treated, there remains at the end of it all only a filtrate of some fifteen grains of radium. And you attribute a miraculous power to the God-Stone, which weighs two tons at most!"
"But it evidently contains radium in appreciable quantities. Nature has not pledged herself to be always niggardly and invariably to dilute the radium. She was pleased to accumulate in the God-Stone a generous supply which enabled it to produce the apparently extraordinary phenomena which we know of . . . not forgetting that we have to allow for popular exaggeration."
Stéphane seemed to be yielding to conviction. Nevertheless he said:
"One last point. Apart from the God-Stone, there was the little chip of stone which Maguennoc found in the leaden sceptre, the prolonged touch of which burnt his hand. According to you, this was a particle of radium?"
"Undoubtedly. And it is this perhaps that most clearly reveals the presence and the power of radium in all this adventure. When Henri Becquerel, the great physicist, kept a tube containing a salt of radium in his waistcoat-pocket, his skin became covered in a few days with suppurating ulcers. Curie repeated the experiment, with the same result. Maguennoc's case was more serious, because he held the particle of radium in his hand. A wound formed which had a cancerous appearance. Scared by all that he knew and all that he himself had said about the miraculous stone which burns like hell-fire and 'gives life or death,' he chopped off his hand."
"Very well," said Stéphane, "but where did that particle of pure radium come from? It can't have been a chip of the God-Stone, because, once again, however rich a mineral may be, radium is incorporated in it, not in isolated grains, but in a soluble form, which has to be dissolved and afterwards collected, by a series of mechanical operations, into a solution rich enough to enable successive crystallizations and concentrations to isolate the active product which the solution contains. All this and a number of other later operations demand an enormous plant, with workshops, laboratories, expert chemists, in short, a very different state of civilization, you mustadmit, from the state of barbarism in which our ancestors the Celts were immersed."
Don Luis smiled and tapped the young man on the shoulder:
"Hear, hear, Stéphane! I am glad to see that François' friend and tutor has a far-seeing and logical mind. The objection is perfectly valid and suggested itself to me at once. I might reply by putting forward some quite legitimate theory, I might presume a natural means of isolating radium and imagine that, in a geological fault occurring in the granite, at the bottom of a big pocket containing radiferous ore, a fissure has opened through which the waters of the river slowly trickle, carrying with them infinitesimal quantities of radium; that the waters so charged flow for a long time in a narrow channel, combine again, become concentrated and, after centuries upon centuries, filter through in little drops, which evaporate at once, and form at the point of emergence a tiny stalactite, exceedingly rich in radium, the tip of which is broken off one day by some Gallic warrior. But is there any need to seek so far and to have recourse to hypotheses? Cannot we rely on the unaided genius and the inexhaustible resources of nature? Does it call for a more wonderful effort on her part to evolve by her own methods a particle of pure radium than to make a cherry ripen or to make this rose bloom . . . or to give life to our delightful All's Well? What do you say, young François? Do we agree?"