His clerk, pen in mouth, could not help laughing outright. When Mayeur was at bay, without a single idea in his head, befooled by the culprits when he had not the slightest idea where to look for them, he still pretended to “throw light on the subject.” Light on the subject! It was enough to make any one laugh! He gave Baudoin a wink, and noisily rattled his desk.
M. Mayeur, as though he guessed the secret hostility of his subordinate, said to him—
“Just go and see if Colonel Vallenot has come from the Ministry.”
The clerk stretched himself; showed Baudoin his cigarette-case, with a grimace which signified, “I’m just going to smoke one,” and left the room. M. Mayeur followed him, bolted the door, and returning to Baudoin, said—
“I would rather we were alone in discussing the subject I am engaged on. The slightest indiscretion in so delicate a matter might ruin everything. Just now you gave me a piece of advice which I might follow to advantage. Still, you did not tell me everything. You are better informed than you have yet shown. Perhaps they are only suspicions, still, I am sure you are quite determined to help justice in an energetic pursuit of your master’s murderers. Why have you not perfect confidence in me? We have the same object in view. Come, M. Baudoin, be frank and open. You imagine you have discovered some means of laying hands on the culprits?”
Baudoin raised his head, and looking fixedly at the magistrate, saw that he was in passionate earnest. He thought that he had really an ally in him, and that professional secrecy guaranteed his discretion, and accordingly made up his mind to speak.
“Well! yes, I have a means by which we shall lay our hands on the culprits.”
“What is it?”
“First of all, swear that what I am about to say shall not be repeated.”
“But—,” protested the judge.
“Take it or leave it,” declared Baudoin, bluntly. “I am risking my life and that of others as well. I shall say nothing, unless you give me your word of honour not to repeat to a living soul what I am going to entrust to you.”
“Not even to my chief?”
“Not a word to any one! Do you give me your promise?”
“Very well! I promise.”
“Well, then! as I told you before, in matters concerning scientific research, the General had confidence in no one except a young man whom he loved as though he were his own child, M. Baradier’s son. I have reason to believe that M. Marcel knows M. de Trémont’s formulæ. If, therefore, the villains we are on the look-out for have the slightest suspicion that they might in this direction try thecoupwhich failed with the General, as soon as they are reassured as to the result of the present search, they will set to work afresh. It is there my task will begin. I am entering the service of M. Marcel, and I shall not leave him a single moment. Besides, I have a friend, who is accustomed to such work. I am taking him with me. The two of us are organizing a continual surveillance. If the plot recommences, we let it develop, and intervene at the critical moment. That is my plan. That is why I made bold, a few minutes ago, to advise you to give up the game, to all appearance. With villains like those with whom we have to deal, there may be a great deal of trouble. Now, you may do all that is necessary to give me a hand, and as soon as developments have come to a head, I will immediately lay the matter in your hands.”
The examining magistrate reflected for a moment, then said—
“All this is outside of legal precedent, but the situation is an exceptional one. Above everything, we must succeed! If we have to deal with determined criminals, as I imagine is the case, this is not their first attempt, and perhaps we shall capture a whole gang. Put into performance, therefore, the plan you have indicated, and, at the slightest difficulty, come to me, and I will summon all the forces of the law to your aid. You need simply show me the beginning of the thread, and I will go right to the end.”
“Good; you shall hear from me at the right time. Not another word, for here is your clerk returning.”
The clerk knocked at the closed door, and the magistrate opened it. Colonel Vallenot stood in the passage, and M. Mayeur addressed him—
“Come in, Colonel, take a seat.”
Turning towards Baudoin, he said—
“You may now retire, M. Baudoin; I don’t think I shall need you for some time to come. All the same, if you leave Paris, give M. Baradier your address, so that the summons I shall address to you may reach you in good time.”
Baudoin bowed to the magistrate, saluted the Colonel in military fashion, and left the room. When he was gone M. Mayeur returned to Vallenot, with a smile on his face; he could not allow his discouragement to appear in public.
“The Minister of War delivered a very solid speech last night in the House.”
“Yes; they try to mystify him, but he is able to defend himself. He knows what he is talking about, and a direct attack always succeeds with Parliamentarians.”
“Imperatoria brevitas,” sneered the magistrate.
After a short pause he asked in honeyed tones—
“Have your researches come to a point yet?”
The Colonel replied bluntly—
“Not at all; they are no further advanced than yours.”
M. Mayeur smiled faintly.
“Ah, ah! Then we make no progress?”
“If I were not afraid of offending you I should say that we were going backwards.”
“That appears to be exactly as the matter stands,” said Mayeur, with a look of intelligence.
“Ah! Have you obtained some clue at last?” asked Vallenot, perplexed.
“I am not in a position to explain, but have patience; a surprise is in store for you.”
“How delighted the chief will be! The whole affair has put him in such a nervous condition that the whole staff suffers in consequence. He is never out of a temper; one does not know how to manage him.”
“To return to our investigations abroad, what result have they given?”
“We have obtained the certainty that, if an attempt has been made to obtain possession of the formulæ of General de Trémont, the Triple Alliance has had nothing to do with it. Ever since the last espionage affair, the different Governments have given orders to their agents to observe the strictest reserve. If there really has been a plot it can only have been made by the English. You are well aware that their artillery is quite out of date, and they are trying to recover ground.”
“So there are nothing but suppositions; no proofs?”
“None whatever. In Paris, or, at any rate, in France, there are half a dozen women well known for their international intrigues, and who might have been suspected of having acted therôleof the Baroness with the poor General de Trémont. Those known to have been in France have been strictly watched. Besides, the majority form part ofour counter-espionage, and could have informed us, whilst still in the pay of another nation. So far as Hans is concerned, a police report from Lausanne announces the arrival in Geneva of a wounded man, whose arm has been amputated. He is from Baden, and is named Fichter. The accident took place in a wire mill in the neighbourhood of Besançon. Accordingly, he could not be at the same time in the Jura and at Vanves. All the same, the description of him corresponds exactly with that given by Baudoin. If this Fichter is the man we are seeking, the proprietor of the wire mill must have given accommodation certificates, or a substitution must have taken place on the way between the two men. All this is very improbable. So, you see, the matter is involved in greater obscurity than ever.”
“Yes, yes,” hummed the magistrate, who appeared so absent-minded that the Colonel looked at him in amazement.
“You take all this very calmly!” said Vallenot.
“What is the use of getting excited? It never serves any useful purpose.”
“Then you have not lost all hope?”
“Why should I?”
“The deuce!”
“Ah! my friend, success often comes at the very time you think everything is lost.”
“You magistrates are very lucky; it is not so in the Army. When you expect Grouchy it is always Blucher who comes!”
“Well, we shall see.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Let the whole affair slide for some time. It is too premature to do anything yet.”
“In other words, you are shelving it?”
“Yes, I am shelving it provisionally.”
“Then you abandon the whole affair?”
The magistrate looked gravely at Vallenot and, to the profound amazement of his clerk, said humbly—
“I do, if no fresh incident happens.”
“Have I to inform the Minister of this?”
“Please do so. Tell him I am sorry, and wish I could have done better. That has been impossible. Still all is not lost, in my opinion. We shall see at a later date.”
The Colonel stood there rather disconcerted by this unexpected solution, and as he took his leave he shook his head, saying—
“A pleasant message you send me with. I shall be received like a dog in a game of skittles.”
“Nonsense! You are the favourite. I am off to the Government agent. He will not grumble; on the contrary, he will poke fun at me. Still no matter. He laughs best who laughs last!”
Shaking the Colonel by the hand, he conducted him to the passage, and returned to his office. He signed several sheets of paper handed to him by his clerk. The latter, devoured by curiosity, said—
“Then the matter is really finished, sir! Are you giving it up?”
“One cannot do what is impossible,” said Mayeur, negligently. “A house cannot be built without scaffolding. Here we have no grounds to work upon. I am not strong enough to invent what I am ignorant of. It is already difficult enough to obtain benefit from certain proof.”
A look of pity came over the clerk’s countenance. So long as the magistrate had manifested a tranquil assurance of success he had, in his conscience, violently criticized him. Now that his master showed himself modest and simple he disdained him. Nothing but a poor fellow, after all, who was very lucky when things went well, but gave up the struggle at the very first difficulties.
“Just put away that brief into my case. I am going to the Public Prosecutor’s office,” said the magistrate. “Afterwards you may go; it is five o’clock. I will see you to-morrow morning.”
Colonel Vallenot, meanwhile, was rolling away in a cab in the direction of the Ministry. On entering his chief’s ante-chamber he came across Baudoin, who was leaving the Minister’s cabinet. Stopping him, he said—
“You have just seen the General?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Is he in a good temper?”
“Yes, Colonel. You had better hurry, sir, if you wish to find him in.”
“What! He is going out?”
“I heard him say that he was going to the Chamber.”
“You had something to ask him, Baudoin?”
“No, Colonel. I wished simply to speak to him of the affair of General Trémont.”
“In what respect?”
“The magistrate makes no progress, and seems to me as though about to abandon the matter altogether.”
“You told this to the Minister?”
“Yes, not five minutes ago.”
“And how did he receive the communication?”
“He whistled softly; then said aloud, ‘After all, perhaps it is better so.’”
Colonel Vallenot looked at Baudoin, as though to make sure he was not making fun of him. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as though he did not understand, and declared, in vexed tones—
“Good! Good! Well, we will say no more about it.”
With a friendly gesture to the former soldier, he said—
“Good night, Baudoin. If you need anything send for me. We were all very fond of M. de Trémont.”
And he passed along, muttering to himself—
“Everybody I meet seems to have lost his head.”
Baudoin descended the large staircase. He went out into the street, after shaking hands with the concierge, and made his way towards the small café, where, in condescending fashion, Laforêt watched the billiard players, during the absinthe hour, eagerly playing pools. He was seated in his usual place, smoking his pipe, and speaking to a neighbour, a retired business man, who was telling him his domestic worries.
“Yes, sir; a woman who is always out of the house, and has never enough money. The vaults of the Bank would not suffice for her. And whenever I remonstrate with her she rouses the whole house with her cries. We cannot keep servants, for she will not pay them, and when she is not pleased, then there are blows! I have already been several times before the Justice of the Peace on her account. The life she leads me is a regular inferno!”
“Divorce her,” said Laforêt, curtly.
“But the greater part of our common stock is hers!”
“Then put up with her!”
“I can do it no longer.”
“Well, treat her as she treats her servants.”
“Ah! No! The deuce! She would pay me back in the same coin!”
Baudoin’s arrival interrupted the consultation. The unhappy tradesman arose, and said—
“The only place where I have a little quiet is here.”
“Well, that is something. Good-bye, sir. Consider me at your service if I can be of any use to you.”
Baudoin had taken a seat. Laforêt leaned over in his direction.
“Well, anything fresh?”
“Yes. I want you. But we had better leave here.”
The agent arose, took his stick, and left the café, accompanied by Baudoin.
“Where shall we go?”
“Where we shall be neither disturbed nor overheard.”
“Then come along with me.”
They proceeded along the banks of the Seine, and, on reaching a quay, Laforêt led the way down a flight of stone stairs leading to the embankment. Under the shade of the elms, which twisted their knotty boughs above the slimy, swift-flowing river, they sat down. On the opposite bank the gardens of the Tuileries exposed to view their lovely verdure. Lighters were unloading sand fifty yards on the left. Ferry-boats sped swiftly along, crowded with passengers, and the distant rolling of carriages formed a rumbling accompaniment to their words.
“Here we are certain that whatever we say will be heard by none other than the birds or the fishes,” said Laforêt. “This is the spot I recommend to you whenever you have any secrets to communicate to any one. There is not even a single fisherman about. Now then, what have you to tell?”
“Well, after three weeks’ researches, the examining magistrate is obliged to confess that he has not made the slightest progress. Clearly, if left to himself, he will never effect anything. Besides, the cleverest of them would have been no more fortunate. There is nothing to seize hold of. The culprits have plunged, and everything is quiet again. The upshot of the matter is that our magistrate is about to stop all investigations, and now I am free to go where I like, as I shall no longer have to spend all the day walking about the corridors of the Law Courts. Accordingly, I am leaving Paris.”
“Ah! Where are you going?”
“To stay with the son of my master, M. Baradier, who is at the works near Troyes, in Champagne. The district is called Ars, noted for alkaline springs and thermal waters, visited every summer by invalids.”
“Are you going to your master with the object of forgetting your troubles?”
“No! Rather to keep watch over him. Since I have been in the house I have spoken with his father, and learnt several things. M. Baradier is informed that his son has received communications from the General de Trémont, and now the famous formulæ can only be obtained from Marcel. M. Baradier, I believe, would give a large sum if his son had never entered the General’s laboratory. But that is a fact which cannot be undone. The only important thing now is to defend the young man. This trust has been confided to me. M. Baradier said to me: ‘Baudoin, Marcel is my only son, and although he is not so steady as he might be, I am all the same very fond of him. I do not want him to come to any harm. As soon as you are free go down to Ars, and do not leave him.’”
“But why does this young man, who is so rich, and of whom his family is so fond, shut himself up in a quiet provincial town? Why does he not stay in Paris?”
“For several reasons. The best one is that his father considers it more prudent for him to be at Ars than in Paris. Surveillance is more easy in the country. Besides, M. Marcel, from what I have learned, has been living rather too fast, and his father has cut off his supplies; but for his uncle Graff, the young heir would have nothing whatever. Just now he is desperately bent on finding a chemical process of wool-dyeing, and, though he is rather a hare-brained fellow, as the General called him, he has an extraordinary aptitude for scientific research, so that his workwill be sufficient to keep him away from all kinds of distractions.”
“He is rather a strange character.”
“The finest young man you would meet anywhere. Generous and lively in disposition, not proud in the least. Ah! he will please you, I know, when you meet him.”
“Then I am to make his acquaintance?”
“Certainly.”
“In what way?”
“Listen. As soon as I learned that I could leave Paris I rushed off to the Minister to explain what I wanted to do, and asked him, if he wished the affair to succeed, to give me permission that you should come down to Ars whenever I need you.”
“I must have permission first.”
“You have only to see Colonel Vallenot, who has received instructions, and he will give you your papers.”
“Good. And what shall I have to do afterwards?”
“According to circumstances. It is my firm conviction that the catastrophe of which my poor master has been the victim, is nothing but the beginning of a drama. Many important events will take place, and we must arrange so as to prevent them from being harmful to the intended victims. Serious interests are at stake. We shall probably have to deal with matters that are anything but attractive. But then, afterwards, everything will be cleared up. We must succeed. By the way, you must know how to disguise yourself.”
Laforêt smiled.
“Do not be uneasy on that score. I will be there at the rendezvous you appoint; but I will not vouch for your recognizing me when you see me.”
“That is all right, then. Unfortunately, I am not to be relied upon for playing a doublerôle. But I can well maintain my own, which will be that of a watch-dog.”
“Then everything is settled?”
“So it seems. When I have a communication to make I will send my letter to the Ministry.”
“Very good. Now let us get back.”
Mounting the stone staircase, they reached the quay, and took leave of one another.
Laforêt made his way towards the Rue Saint Dominique; Baudoin crossed the Pont de la Concorde, and returned to the Rue de Provènce by the Rue de Richelieu and the boulevards. Messieurs Baradier and Graff were in their office, along with the cashier of the firm, who was making inquiries concerning the collection of debts. The cashier was saying—
“Do you know, gentlemen, that the ‘Commercial Explosives’ Company,’ of which M. Lichtenbach is chairman, is on its last legs? The shares have gone down considerably. It seems that there is an American company competing with them.”
“Yes, so I have heard,” said Graff. “The Americans have found a product of very simple composition, costing fifty per cent. less than dynamite. They have already taken very large orders for Australia and South Africa. That is the reason of the fall of the Lichtenbach Company.”
“Do not be uneasy, Bernard,” said Baradier to his cashier. “It will not affect Lichtenbach, but his shareholders. You have no more letters to be signed?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, then, you may go now. Good night.”
“Good night, gentlemen.”
Baradier rose from his seat, and stood with his back to the fire.
“You see,” he said to his brother-in-law, “here we have a clear proof that Trémont has been killed as much to rob him of his commercial as of his military secret. Do you now understand how Lichtenbach would be interested inbeing in possession of the formulæ of an explosive which would be less costly than the American product, the discovery of which is ruining the French company, and would be as effective though a hundred times less in volume? For this is the real value of the discovery made by Trémont, and which Marcel has explained to me. Accordingly, if Lichtenbach, by some means or other, came into possession of the unknown formulæ, he would only have to take out a patent, and secretly buy back all the shares of the company which have now fallen so low. The day after he had swept everything before him he would sell to the company all property in the new explosive, and make millions at a single stroke, without speaking of the future success of the product.”
“Yes, it would be a finecoupworthy of him. He might give up to his confederates the profits from the war powder, for they would be little compared with those of the commercial product. Governments are not in the habit of remunerating philanthropists who afford them the means of marching triumphantly forward to a universal massacre.”
“Oh, don’t make any mistake. Marcel affirms that this discovery made by Trémont is followed by the most frightful results. It is a kind of paste, which, according to the way in which it is prepared, causes a formidable detonation or else burns, without the slightest noise, even when in water.”
“Greek fire?”
“Something like it. Or, rather, like an up-to-date cannon compared with one of the fourteenth century. Torpedoes loaded with this paste, and lit by means of a well-graduated mechanism, might at will envelop a ship in flames at a single moment.”
“That would mean the suppression of all naval supremacy!”
“Ah! You understand. Now, do you think thereexists any real security for the possessor of such a secret? A State would have to be governed by angels if it did not use its utmost endeavours to procure this monstrous power of annihilating all its enemies and subduing all its rivals. This is why Trémont was put to death, and why I have lost my sleep at the thought that my son has openly worked with him and may be suspected of having possession of this mysterious agent of destruction and greatness.”
“Send him away from France, on a cruise.”
“He would be in much greater danger away from France. The place where he runs least risk is here among his friends. Ah! How glad I should be were he rid of this heavy burden! I have begged him to hand over the General’s formulæ to the Minister. It would have been announced in all the journals that Marcel Baradier had handed over to the Technical Committee of Explosives all notes relating to the experiments of General de Trémont. After that he would have been free, and no further risk would have been run. Do you know what reply he gave me?”
“No; tell me.”
“He said to me, with a smile, and in tones of calm assurance: ‘My dear father, the General’s powder is still lacking in one slight detail. I know what he intended to do, for he explained everything to me. Well, then, I will continue his experiments, and when everything is complete I will hand over the formulæ to the State, according to his clearly-expressed will, and form a company with the commerce explosive to enrich the General’s daughter.’”
“Does Marcel know what a risk he is running?” asked Graff.
“I became hoarse in telling him. But he is a Lorraine; he’s as obstinate as a mule. To all my arguments he offered an imperturbable resistance. ‘I alone,’ he said, ‘can manage the affair successfully. If I give the General’s notes to theTechnical Committee, one of those sharp fellows on the Board will boast that he has made the discovery himself, and obtain all the credit for it. Unless he spoil the invention by absurd additions, which is at bottom a very likely thing. As for the commercial product, if I open my mouth before taking all necessary precautions, it will be stolen in an instant, and the General’s daughter will lose her fortune. For these reasons, and others, I do not intend to abandon the work I have begun.’
“‘But you are risking your life?’
“‘Is it so very precious? You spend your time in telling me I am a rascal, that I am ruining you, and shall bring your name into dishonour. Very good! You will be well rid of a guilty and unworthy son!’”
Graff struck his hands against one another.
“You see! That is the result of your harshness towards the poor child. How can you expect him to listen to you?”
“Ah! Leave me alone!” exclaimed Baradier, pale with anguish, “I am sufficiently worried with all this! You do not intend to make me responsible for it, into the bargain! I love Marcel as well as you do! The only difference is that I am not always fawning on him and giving him money! We should have been in a fine state had you been the only one to set him an example! All you did was to encourage his evil inclinations! If he has done wrong, it is all your fault!”
“Yes! I, who have set an example to him, and practised what I preached!” exclaimed Graff. “I being his evil genius, as everybody knows. Really, Baradier, I wonder if you have gone mad!”
Baradier walked excitedly about the room, then, returning to his brother-in-law, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said in trembling tones—
“You are right! I believe I am losing my senses. Pardon me, this anxiety has completely overwhelmed me. We have only Marcel, Graff. Think of what would become of us, if destiny willed it that—”
Graff rose quickly from his seat.
“Not another word! It is unlucky to predict disaster. We must not even admit that there is a disaster at all. Still, I cannot blame Marcel for doing what he considers his duty. Did he act otherwise, he would be neither a Baradier nor a Graff. He is acting very courageously. All the same we must keep watch over him, and defend him against his own folly.”
At that moment, a knock was heard at the study door. Baradier went to open it, and seeing Baudoin on the threshold, said—
“Ah! You have come at the right moment. First of all, tell us how things are going at the courts.”
“Everything is at a standstill, sir. The examining magistrate can find nothing. The culprits have left a vacuum behind them.”
“Well?”
“Well, M. Mayeur, in despair, unable to arrest the criminals, is simply stopping all investigations, and shelving the affair.”
“That’s a fine idea! Is it his own?”
“No, sir.”
“What fool could have suggested such a course?”
“I did.”
“I congratulate you. Now, the rascals who have killed your master, believing themselves sure of impunity, will recommence—”
“I am relying on their doing so!”
“But! Marcel? My son! What is to become of him? Have you even thought of such a thing?”
“I have thought of nothing else. Here I am free. If you will allow me, I will leave Paris this very night, and be at Ars about midnight. The news of the affair being abandoned will not appear in the journals for a couple of days. I shall have organized my surveillance by that time. I promise you nothing shall happen to M. Marcel, or, at any rate, they will have to begin with me.”
“Very reassuring!” growled Baradier. “But what can one do with such a madman as my son? He is in danger everywhere. Ah, the cursed powder! What need had Trémont to tell him of his inventions? If this explosive is as dangerous to those against whom it is used as it is to its inventors, there will be fine butcheries the next war.”
Baudoin philosophically paid no heed to these paternal recriminations.
He understood how correct they were, but could he do more than devote himself to the defence of him who might at any time, be so gravely threatened? When M. Baradier finally sat down, in consternation, Graff decided to speak in his turn.
“After all,” he said, “as the wine is drawn, we must drink it. The thing to guard against is not to poison one’s self with it. Forewarned is forearmed. The situation is not the same as it was for the General. With a little prudence it will be easy to make everything turn out right. Patience brings all things about.”
“Have you finished with your proverbs, which have no meaning whatever?” exclaimed Baradier, exasperated by his brother-in-law’s optimism. “Without so much palaver, all that is needed is to give Baudoin permission to summon the police in case he sees anything suspicious in Marcel’s surroundings. For my part, I have more confidence in armed might than in providence.”
“If you are interrupting me to say such nonsense,” replied Graff, “you might have held your peace. Let Marcel work on. The sooner he has finished the sooner he will be out of danger. Until that time, Baudoin, I entrust him to your care.”
“Do not be uneasy, Monsieur Graff. I will answer for him with my life. Besides, I am not trusting in myself alone. I am going to send for a companion, who in himself is worth a score of men. I need say no more. Trust to me.”
“Yes, my brave fellow, I will trust to you,” said Baradier.
“Very good,” said Baudoin, rubbing his hands. “Have you any message to send to M. Marcel?”
“Tell him to be very careful; give him our best love, and ask him to think of us at times.”
“By-the-bye, have you any money for the journey?”
“I have all I need, sir, thank you. Your servant, sir.Au revoir!”
Bowing, he left the room. Father and uncle remained behind, silent and grave, plunged in reverie. After a time Graff stood up and said—
“Nothing ill will happen. Of that I am sure. I feel it. You know I am never mistaken. In business, every time we have had a loss I have always had a very clear intuition of it beforehand. Be assured, Baradier, we shall come out of it without loss or damage.”
The anxious father replied—
“Heaven grant you may be right! But so long as there is a woman in it I cannot be at rest concerning Marcel. Ah! if it were only you or I, there would be no danger. But this young madman!”
“The oldest are not always the wisest. Look at Trémont.”
“Well, well. It is all in God’s hands!”
Holding out his hand to his brother-in-law—
“We will have no more quarrels; they serve no useful purpose, and only cause us pain!”
“Ah! Speak to me as harshly as you like!” exclaimed Graff, greatly moved. “It does not hurt me, and it relieves you! But be careful to say nothing to your wife. There is no occasion that she should worry herself about the matter.”
They left the office, and, as they crossed the court they saw Baudoin, portmanteau in hand, starting off, with alert and happy step, for the station.
Arsis a small town of six thousand inhabitants, a distance of four leagues from Troyes. On the manly declivities to the South stretch miles upon miles of vineyards. The mineral springs of Ars are distant half a mile from the town, on the road to Lusigny, as is also the thermal establishment.
It was whilst engaged in sounding for ore, in land which did not contain the slightest trace of it, that M. Reverend, chief engineer, unexpectedly discovered the alkaline and chalybeate waters, rivalling those of Plombieres and of Aix. But, after all, Ars is too near Paris for patients to have confidence in the healing virtues of its springs. It is frequented only by people of limited income, and hotel-keepers who are not in the habit of fleecing travellers. Near the forest of Bossicant, close by, a few villas, almost lost amid the trees, are every year placed at the disposal of wealthy invalids. These are modest-looking, quiet houses, offering their peace-loving guests nothing but the smiling solitudes of the forest. The weaving and spinning mills belonging to Messrs. Baradier and Graff are situated on the Barse, the rapid current of which turns the dynamos, which supply both light and motive-power. The private residence is separated from the works by a large court-yard and a beautiful garden. The road to Vandoeuvre passes in front of the house, whilst, on the other side of the road, throughmeadows in which large numbers of cattle are grazing all the year round, runs the railroad, past Chaumont, right to the German frontier. Ars is an important working centre. The quarries and mines give work to a large proportion of the male population.
Two hundred men, a hundred women, and a large number of children are employed at the works of Baradier and Graff. The manager of the establishment, M. Cardez, is a native of Lorraine, who came from Metz with his masters. He had married at Ars, and was now a widower with two grown-up sons, devoted to duty, and kind towards his workmen, but of a taciturn disposition, and ruling with almost military discipline. One of his sons is in the Army, the other assistant-manager in the works at La Barre.
A very good fellow, on the whole, whom Marcel Baradier, from his childhood, had been in the disrespectful habit of calling “the bear.” The “bear” and Marcel could never understand one another. There was the same distance between them as between Pascal, the inventor of the wheel-barrow, and the workman whose duty it was to roll it along the highway. Marcel likes Cardez well enough, though he is fond of poking fun at him. Cardez is very respectful towards the son of his master, though he deplores his light-heartedness and frivolity. The two might live together for years without the slightest affinity being manifested between them. As Marcel says, with a smile, the one is negative, the other positive. Cardez is none too glad at Marcel settling down at the works, for his presence is a cause of trouble for the workmen. The master’s son is too ready to listen to their complaints, and discipline suffers in consequence. The military order no longer reigns, and Cardez, more bearish than ever, never ceases railing at what he calls “the encouragement given to the rebellious instincts of the workmen.”
Marcel’s researches in the colouring of cloth leave the director sceptical. He considers there is no necessity to change a system which has succeeded so well for so many years. A dye-shed always seemed useless to him. The raw thread, which brought so ready a sale, was quite sufficient for their requirements. All these new inventions, costing so dear, only served, in his mind, to introduce an element of trouble into the working of a business already prosperous. The laboratory at the end of the garden, in an isolated pavilion, was the object of raillery on the part of the director, who called it “the Capernaum.”
Since Marcel had come to settle at Ars, contrary to his usual habit, he scarcely ever appeared at the works. He shut himself up in the “Capernaum,” or went off in search of recreation, with a gun and his dog, into the forest of Bossicant. Baradier and Graff owned two hundred acres of waste land, very picturesque, and abounding in game. Certain of the uplands of Bossicant remind one of Scotland, in point of wild, picturesque view, dry, arid heather, and the clear freshness of the invigorating air.
Half-way down the hollow rose a villa, in the form of a chalet, buried in the trees—a red spot in the midst of so much surrounding verdure. It was gloomy and silent, and almost always uninhabited, by reason of its distance from the town, and proximity to the wood. One morning, as he passed by this villa, Marcel was surprised to see that the shutters were down, and that a servant was busily sweeping in front of the door. She was rather elegantly dressed, and appeared to be a stranger in the district, doubtless attending to some invalid who had come to effect a cure. Marcel was not inquisitive, and went his way.
It was three o’clock when he reached the plain, which he began to cross with careless steps. The movements of his dog, however, drew his attention. He slipped a coupleof cartridges into his gun, and mounted to the side of the slope. After a moment’s interval, on climbing the opposite bank, Marcel saw a rabbit bent on reaching the open. He took aim, pulled the trigger, and the rabbit rolled over to the foot of the descent. The dog was not far away; he seized the dead animal by the back, and brought him to his master.
Marcel relieved the dog, placed the game in a light bag he carried over his shoulder, uncocked his gun, and, considering that he had done enough damage for the time being, sat down on the sand, at the foot of a fir tree, and looked dreamily away at the distant forests in the east. A delightful torpor, induced by the dull silence of the woods, took possession of his body, whilst his more active thoughts, as though freed from all material bond, began to dwell on his past life. He saw again the house in the Rue de Provènce, in which his father and his uncle Graff had quarrelled so often about him; and his mother’s salon, where Amélie, seated near Mademoiselle de Trémont, dressed in deep black, was quietly working.
Suddenly his reveries were interrupted by a bark of his dog. The pattering step of some animal or other made him turn his head, and there, close by, he saw a small terrier, no larger than his two fists, a silk ribbon tied in a knot round his neck, advancing in his direction. A little farther away, a woman, dressed in black, slowly followed. He had no time to examine the newcomer, for the little dog, with a furious yelp, leaped towards the other, with the unthinking audacity of a rat attacking a tiger. A gentle voice exclaimed, “Bob!” It was of no use. Marcel’s dog stood up against his tiny adversary, and rolled him over into the dust.
“Bob! Oh,Mon Dieu!” exclaimed his mistress, anxiously, as she rushed to the spot.
Marcel heard the cry, saw a pair of beautiful eyes, and,without waiting longer, bounded forth, and seized his dog by the skin of his neck, flinging him over on to the ground. Then, picking up the terrier, still panting with the shock, but quite uninjured, he exhibited him to the lady, with a smile—
“Do not be anxious, madame; your savage little animal is safe and sound. Still, we were only just in time. Please excuse us, and take into account that we were not the aggressors.”
The lady put the dog under her arm, gave him a gentle tap, saying, in scolding tones—
“Oh!Che bestia! A fly trying to devour a wolf!”
Marcel could now see her at leisure, as she was tenderly scolding her terrier, and he stood there, filled with admiration at the gentle beauty of the unknown lady. Her face was of a perfect oval, surrounded by golden hair; her dark eyes were languishing and gentle, whilst she had the chaste and timid mien of a young girl. All the same, she was dressed in mourning, like a widow. Fixing her eyes on Marcel, she said, in quiet, gracious accents—
“A thousand thanks, sir, for your timely intervention. I am sorry for your poor dog, which did quite right in defending itself.”
“There can be no comparison, madame,” said Marcel, “between this charming little animal of yours and this large-pawed dog of mine, accustomed to brambles and thorns. I am sorry I have stopped your walk, but now you may continue in perfect safety; I will chain up my dog.”
The young woman bowed her head in token of thanks.
“If I am trespassing on your property, I beg you to excuse me. I am a stranger, and have only been in these parts the last two days. I am acquainted with no one to inform me as to what I have a right to do.”
“Here, madame, you may do as you please. Doubtless you are living at the Villa de la Cavée?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then these woods are easily within your reach. There are very few passers-by, and you may come whenever you wish.”
She murmured, in constrained accents, “A thousand thanks.”
Thereupon she moved away at a slow pace. Marcel stood there motionless, unable to remove his eyes from the ravishing figure, now slowly disappearing from view. Then he whistled for his dog, stroked him gently, as though to atone for his rough treatment a few moments previously, and returned, in pensive mood, to the works. After dinner he strolled about the garden, smoking, till nine o’clock; then, completely tired out, retired to rest for the night.
The following morning he spent all his time in the laboratory. Suddenly the door opened, and Baudoin appeared.
“Holla! You here?” said the young man. “Has my father sent you?”
“Yes, sir. I am requested by all the family to convey to you their best love. Besides, I have come to stay by your side.”
“For what purpose?”
“To be your servant.”
“Very good, Baudoin; make yourself at home. Your presence will be very useful here, in making things go all right. The inhabitants of this district are fine people on the whole, but not over-intelligent.”
“We will put all that in order for you.”
He walked round the laboratory, looking attentively at the objects on the table, and the alembics, with their copper spirals, on the stove.
“So it is here that you are working! Who arranges things in this laboratory?”
“No one enters the place but myself.”
“So I see. However, I will clean your utensils; I know how to go about it. Are you working at the General’s formulæ?”
“Not yet; I have had other things to attend to. Still, I intend to commence shortly. I am very glad you have come, for you will be at hand, in case I want any help. See here, Baudoin, these are blue, pink, and green dyes which I have fixed lately. They are capable of giving wool an unchangeable colour.”
As he spoke, he handled hanks of a strong and harmonious shade, stretching them out before the light of day, and showing all their reflections.
“Our poor General put this idea into my head. Ah! if he had only contented himself with undertaking industrial researches, we should still have had him alive and well among us, and in possession of a large fortune. But he disdained such productive discoveries; he thought only of the State. He would work for nothing else.”
“After serving it so long, M. Marcel, it was second nature with him.”
“Well, well, Baudoin! Settle down here, and commence your duties this very night.”
Marcel stayed behind in the laboratory, inactive, as though some dull preoccupation would give him no peace.Hesat down in a large leather armchair he had gaily baptized the “alchemist’s armchair,” and, with open window to allow the sun to enter, he sat there in a reverie, until five o’clock struck.
He went down into the garden, walked past beds of rose-trees, and halted by the banks of the river, watching in the crystal waters a jack chasing a shoal of roaches, which,to escape the dreaded pursuit, leapt out of the water, like silver arrows. The clock at the entrance, as it struck, disturbed his thoughts, and he saw approaching him, and preceded by the porter, a tall, elegantly dressed young man, of very handsome features and blue eyes. As he drew near he took off his hat, bowed with considerable deference, and said, in a sing-song Italian accent—
“Have I the pleasure of addressing M. Marcel Baradier?”
“That is my name, sir,” said Marcel, examining the stranger with a sudden interest. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit!”
The young man gave a sidelong glance to assure himself that the porter had left the room, then, in haughty tones, said—
“As I have no one to present me, allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Cesare Agostini, of the Princes of Briviesca. I live at the Villa de la Cavée with my sister, and I have called to thank you for the kindness with which, yesterday, you—”
“What I did, sir, was merely natural; it was quite by chance that I met your sister. She is a stranger in these parts, and appeared to be sad, and in search of rest and quiet. All I did was to simply comply with her wishes so far as I could.”
Count Cesare bowed gracefully; a cloud came over his handsome face, and in accents of sadness he continued—
“My sister is, indeed, very sad; she has had a great deal of trouble. She has spent her strength in attending to the needs of a husband far older than herself, and whom she had the misfortune to lose some time ago. With the object of regaining her health, she has come into this valley, to seek calm and quiet. The waters of Ars, too, have been well recommended to us. But it is chiefly fresh air mysister needs, after being confined for long months by the bedside of a dying man.”
The handsome Italian several times shook his head, and said—
“Oh, it is very sad, very sad indeed!”
“And you have come from Italy with your sister?” asked Marcel.
“No,” said Cesare. “Madame Vignola was living in Paris, where I have recently been to see her. We intend to return to Naples, and settle down. Not before autumn, however. Yes, it is very sad indeed!”
Marcel saw that the Count Cesare did not appear to wish to take his leave, and, as he was interested in what he related, he led the way to a green arbour, with rustic seats, sheltered from the rays of the setting sun.
“Will you take a seat, sir?”
The Italian chose an armchair, and drew from his pocket a gold cigarette-case, which he held out to Marcel. “A cigarette?”
“Willingly.”
They began to smoke, and the tobacco seemed to render Cesare even more loquacious.
“This villa where my sister now lives is far from the village. Is the country round here quite safe?”
“Perfectly safe. Your sister will have nothing to fear from any one.”
“All the better! I myself am not staying here long. My business takes me back to Paris, and the idea of leaving her alone with a chamber-maid and a servant-girl whom I do not know makes me very anxious, that I will not deny. Is Ars always so quiet as at present?”
“Always, at this time of the year. The season begins in June, and it is now only April. In a few months the hotels will be filled, and the roads overrun by all the stagewaggons in the district. That is the time I shall choose for going away.”
“You do not stay here the whole year round?”
“No; I only call here at rare intervals. My home is at Paris; I am at Ars on business.”
“Your works are very large?”
“One of the largest in the department. My grandfather founded the industry. It is the cradle of our family and the source of our fortune. Accordingly, my father, who is a banker, could never make up his mind to give it up, although he has far greater interests in other enterprises.”
“I see he has trusted to you the responsibility of managing the works.”
“Oh no. My father is represented by a director. I am simply the master’s son, and interfere in no way with the weaving. Here I have a laboratory, in which I undertake chemical experiments. But all the people in this district will tell you that I am an amateur, anything but serious, and that I spend more money on experiments than my pretended discoveries will ever bring me.”
As he spoke he laughed gaily. The handsome Italian joined, and said, in his sing-song voice—
“Rich men’s eldest sons are always ill-judged. When one is wealthy it is extremely difficult to get one’s self considered as a serious worker. Because one has no need of money, people are only too ready to conclude that one is incapable of earning any. And yet, why should not a rich man be a genius?”
“Ah, sir, then what would become of other poor wretches?”
“So you pretend, yourself,” said the Count, with a graceful wave of the hand, “to despise these investigations, though they probably interest you greatly?”
“Almost as much as the experiments of a dyer. I havewoollen stuffs steeped in coloured vats, and I try to fix the tints indelibly, so that the stuff sold in future will not become discoloured under the influence of either light, rain, or wind. The tapestries placed on furniture or walls, nowadays, are scarcely in their places than they have to be taken down—they are already quite faded. All the same, the stuffs of former times lasted, and exist even now. Our ancestors were in possession of dyeing processes superior to ours, and yet modern chemistry offers us mighty resources. That is what I am working at, sir. It is very commonplace, as you see.”
“Evidently, it is not the philosopher’s stone! Still, all researches have their value. Have you obtained satisfactory results?”
Marcel bowed in mock humility.
“You are very polite, sir, but you wish to take advantage of my vanity. Inventors always like to speak of their investigations, you are thinking; and I wish to repay this gentleman for the kindness he has shown my sister. But it would doubtless serve you right if I bored you with my discoveries, took your curiosity seriously, and showed you my samples.”
The Italian bent down his head, and, in contrite tones, said—
“I am indeed sorry you imagined I was not sincere. All you have told me interests me greatly. Doubtless I am not so frivolous as your compatriots, and since you appear to defy me examining your results, with satisfaction to myself, I now ask you to have the kindness to show me them, unless you were joking, in which case I should not have understood you, as I do not always seize all the finesse of your language. In which case I must ask you to pardon me.”
“Indeed, I was not jesting; I was perfectly serious,”said Marcel, gaily. “I still believe you will be punished for your curiosity. But since you insist, follow me; I will show you my laboratory.”
“Many thanks!” exclaimed Cesare. “I was afraid I should vex you.”
“In what way? You would believe in the most marvellous things, did I not show you my poor results. Take care not to soil yourself; everything here is not perfectly clean.”
Opening the door of the summer-house, he introduced the Count into the panelled room, leading to the laboratory, and which he used as a workroom. A blush mounted to Cesare’s temples. He looked eagerly around. On a Louis XVI. bureau, leaning against the wall, were scattered some papers covered with figures. A half-opened drawer exhibited boxes of different sizes and colours, carefully labelled. A massive table supported wide-mouthed jars, on the rough glass of which could be read the indications: sulphuric acid, nitro-benzine, picric acid, and a whole series of chlorates. The Italian, pointing to the table, said—
“Ah! Here are some chemicals you do not make use of for your dyes!”
“No,” said Marcel, evasively; “those are for something else.”
And, as his visitor drew near, stretching out his hand towards one of the wide-mouthed jars—
“Do not touch these jars—they are dangerous. If, by any chance, you were to upset the contents, both yourself and myself might find ourselves in a very disagreeable position. Come this way!”
Opening the door of the laboratory, he bade him take a seat in the alchemist’s armchair, by the window, as he said—
“Here you may smoke, if you like, without danger; there is nothing explosive here.”
“Whilst in the next room?” asked the Italian, carelessly.
“In the next room, if you threw down a match in the wrong place, you might explode the whole works!”
“Diavolo! Then I will stop smoking even here, my dear sir, for I have no wish to leave the place by way of the roof.”
He patiently examined Marcel’s fine samples of dyed wool. Apparently he was listening attentively, but his awakened intelligence, his piercing eyes under his half-closed eyelids were busied with that “something else,” of which Marcel had spoken so briefly. But nothing in the laboratory appeared to have any reference to that mysterious task, which demanded the manipulation of such dangerous products.
“I should like you,” said the Italian, “to give me some of these beautiful cloths, of such a rich and harmonious colouring. I will take them to my sister, who can embroider like a fairy. She will start some magnificent piece of work, which will sooth her solitude, and thus you will see the effect of your colours, artistically employed.”
“If you will permit me, I will bring them myself,” said Marcel.
“As you please. We are always at home about five o’clock. But do not delay, for I shall soon be leaving the neighbourhood.”
“Very well! To-morrow, if that will not inconvenience you?”
“Not at all. To-morrow, then.”
The Italian rose from his seat. He walked round the laboratory, and drew near the window overlooking the river.
“Ah! You are close to the water here. You might even fish from the window, without descending into thegarden. Are you not afraid of some one entering the laboratory? A few marauders in a boat could enter the summer-house.”
“Who would ever think of such a thing!” exclaimed Marcel. “Besides, as is well known, there is nothing to take. And, then, the inhabitants of this district are very honest people.”
“But have you no foreign employees at the works?”
“Very seldom. A few from Belgium or from Luxembourg. As few as possible, for they are difficult to deal with.”
“You do not live in this summer-house? You never sleep here?”
“No; there is no convenience—simply a barn above the ground floor, that is all. I live in the house opposite the manager’s. It is small, but very comfortable. My uncle Graff lived there several months.”
“You are very fortunate to have family relations,” said Cesare, in sorrowful tones. “My sister and I are alone—private dissensions have alienated us from the Briviescas. M. Vignola had no relations. We are obliged to be all in all to one another.”
“Your sister is a young and charming lady. She may marry again.”
“She never thinks of it. After all the sorrow caused by her union with M. Vignola, she aspires after nothing but peace and rest. Oh, she has suffered so much! The diseased and unhappy Vignola was madly jealous. He. could not endure his wife to be absent from him a single hour. He must have her constantly before his eyes. He left her a great fortune at his death. Poor compensation for all the tortures he inflicted on her! But now he is dead. Peace to his memory!”
“Your sister has no children?”
“No, sir; that is her greatest sorrow.”
The image of the young woman, in deep mourning, walking sorrowfully about the woods, was evoked in Marcel’s imagination. Very pretty to be inconsolate at the loss of an old husband! How old could she be? Twenty-five years, perhaps, at the most, and no knowledge of life except grief and sadness. Cesare arose, and took his leave. Marcel accompanied him across the garden to the gate, and there said, with a cordial smile—
“Till to-morrow, then, sir, my respectful homage to your sister.”
When he had gone, Marcel made his way towards the works, when he saw M. Cardez coming in his direction, even redder than usual, and with a dark frown on his brow.
“Ah, M. Marcel, I was calling to see you! I have a great deal of worry, and am indeed very pleased that you are here, so that you may understand yourself, and inform Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
“What is the matter?”
“The fact is, the dyers are not pleased with their working hours, and threaten to come out on strike.”
“Ah! That is something fresh.”
“Fresh? No, it has been coming on for more than three weeks; the plot has only been developing. I was in hopes that, summer coming on, and the hours of daylight being more numerous, some arrangement might be reached. Now there is another cause of grievance. Instead of working more, they want to work less and earn more!”
“Ah! Are their claims justified?”
The manager, standing upright, cast a look of indignation on the son of his master.
“Are workmen’s claims ever justified? This class of people have only one programme: the minimum of work and the maximum of wages.”
“After all,” said Marcel, calmly, “they are only like other men.”
“Ah, sir, let their ringleaders talk in that way; do not speak so yourself.”
“Why not?”
“Because, with philanthropic theories, andlaisser-allertendencies, we should soon be no longer masters of our own works; they would put us out of doors.”
Marcel looked gravely at the manager, and replied—
“My opinion is entirely opposed to yours. I think that if workmen were treated as partners they would work better and keep better discipline. There is a huge misunderstanding between Capital and Labour. They treat one another as enemies, when they ought to proceed in concerted action, like allies.”
“Eh? That is downright Socialism.”
“No! It is simply co-operation.”
“And do you know,” said Cardez, looking slily at Marcel, “what is the principal reason of the discontent of the dyers?”
“The principal reason? Then the grievances they have manifested are only a pretext?”
“Nothing more. These workmen, in whose lot you are so interested, are full of deceit and treachery; they never show their real motives. Well, the dyers, in their secret meetings, rail at your inventions—they are displeased with your new dyeing processes!”
“Ah! The fools!”
An expression of triumph appeared on Cardez’s ill-tempered face.
“What did I tell you! Here are processes they are not yet acquainted with; and they maintain that your object is to simplify the workmanship, and, consequently, to do without workmen. Now they want tostrike, to obtain concessions regarding both work and wages.”
“They have been ill-advised. When the real state of things is explained they will easily understand. Then they will see that, far from injuring them, the improvements I shall introduce into the manufacture are entirely to their advantage.”
“They will never admit that.”
“Suppose I prove it to them?”
“Their ringleaders will prove the contrary.”
“Who are these ringleaders?”
“A few Belgians.”
“Send them away.”
“Ah, that would be very imprudent! Better have patience, and try to come to an understanding. These men are from the Wallon district, and when they have drunk one glass of brandy too many you may fear anything at their hands. It was one of these Belgians who struck the overseer with a knife last year. They are good workmen, but terribly exacting and disagreeable. There is nothing to fear for the present. They want an eye keeping on them. Now, if you would like to call them together and speak to them, you will see what you can make of the matter.”
He spoke in sneering tones. Marcel well understood that the manager, speaking from experience, was thinking: Have a little experience of these brutes, my young novice, and you will learn to know them. Speak to them nicely, explaining that it is to their advantage to work without grumbling, so that you may have a fine profit at the year’s end, whilst they have had the greatest difficulty to make ends meet. Try to obtain their approval. Afterwards, come and tell me what result you have obtained. Unless you give them the works, and capital to keep it going,perhaps even guaranteeing them dividends, you will never make them satisfied!
Marcel would not discuss any longer with Cardez. He did not consider it necessary to weaken the authority of the manager at such a critical moment. He determined to give him all possible help to avoid the difficulties he foresaw.
“You may be sure, M. Cardez, that if I can do anything to help you, you have only to mention it. It is possible we may not have the same ideas on the way of settling Labour difficulties. Still, it is of no use waiting till the house is on fire before discussing the fire-brigade system by which the conflagration may most surely be extinguished. The best thing to do is to use the means nearest at hand. Consequently, do as you think best. Have you informed my father of the matter?”
“No; indeed, I am not in the habit of tormentingmymasters with an account of the difficulties of the works here. There will be plenty of time, in case things become more serious.”
“Very good; we will wait.”
At that hour the Count Cesare Agostini reached the Villa de la Cavée, and after traversing the garden he entered a small salon on the ground floor, where the young lady, in mourning, lolling on an easy-chair, was lazily reading a novel. The setting sun, entering through the window, shed his golden rays on the reader’s face. She was no longer the melancholy and timid widow Marcel had met in the woods. Her hair, thrown back on to her forehead, gave her delicate profile a look of audacious pride. On hearing Cesare enter the room, she flung down her book, rose eagerly to her feet, and, in joyous tones, said—
“Well,caro mio, you are back at last! Are you satisfied with your mission?”
“As far as one can be. I have seen your pigeon. He actually holds out the wing, without being asked. You will obtain no merit in plucking such a confiding youth, Sophia.”
She laughed outright.
“Never mind merit! I can do without glory. Success will suffice for me. So you found the ground well prepared?”
“I am afraid distractions are sadly lacking in this district, and that our appearance in the woods has already produced its effect on Marcel.”
“Then he will come?”
“Yes; and not later than to-morrow. I told him I was going away. Consequently you will have the field free to do as you please. Do not let this affair lag; you have your revenge to take.”
“Ah,mio caro, thecoupmissed the first time, all through Hans’ stupid obstinacy. Had he left me to act as I pleased, the General would finally have offered me his formulæ on a silver plate, and kneeling into the bargain. Hans wished to rush everything through, and old Trémont, infatuated as he was, became distrustful. Sorry adventure, in which our friend lost his arm, and almost all of us just missed being compromised. The most stupid part of it was that the General had said to Hans, as he pointed out to him the steel box—a fine box of Fichet’s, supplied with one of those admirable locks, so very complicated, but which are of no use whatever: ‘Look here, my friend, it is impossible to open this without my permission. All my secrets are inside. On raising this lid all my formula would be found. But then one must know how to do it; otherwise one may die in the attempt.’ Ah, ah! Old Trémont spoke the truth! He had made his box into a kind of reversing bomb. One must know how to handle it. Hans perceivedthe necessity of this. All the same, he distrusted himself. He had taken the precaution to go out on to the perron of the house, and there he tried to open the box. Ah,caro mio, when the explosion took place the very earth trembled! I had already returned to Paris in the carriage. The vibration was so great that the very windows of the brougham shook. I thought to myself: There, Hans has smashed up everything! I had no idea I was so near the truth, for the house was entirely destroyed. I cannot possibly understand how Hans, who had succeeded in opening the lock of the box, and who, lying on the ground a score of yards away, behind a tree, drew off the lid with a cord, justly dreading some devilish trick or other, was not completely blown to pieces.”