A Nest of Spies
XXVI
WILHELMINE'S SECRET
"You are alone, Wilhelmine?"
Mademoiselle de Naarboveck had just left the house in the rue Fabert.It was three in the afternoon, and she was going shopping. At thecorner of the rue de l'Universite she came on Henri de Loubersac.
It was a delightful surprise. She had not seen him for several days.She was aware of the difficult and dangerous nature of her futurefiance's duties; that they frequently took him from Paris for days ata time; that they forbade him writing even a post card to let her knowwhere he was!... Now she felt delightedly sure that he had takenadvantage of his first free moment to pay her a visit. How charming ofhim!
The truth was that de Loubersac, whose anxieties and suspicions hadincreased hour by hour, till he was suffering the tortures of thedamned, had made up his mind to have a decisive talk with Wilhelmine.A clear and final explanation he would have, cost what it might!
Full of joy at the meeting, Wilhelmine did not seem to notice hisanxious looks, his strained expression. She answered his question witha welcoming smile.
"I am alone."
"Your father?"
"Went away this morning: the calls of diplomacy are numerous, andfrequently sudden, you know!"
"And Mademoiselle Berthe?"
Wilhelmine raised her beautiful bright eyes and met her fiance'squestioning glance.
"No news of her for several days. Berthe seems to have disappeared."Her tone was grave.
De Loubersac did not speak: mechanically he fitted his step toWilhelmine's. Presently he asked:
"Where do you think of going?"
"I was going to do a little shopping ... nothing much ... there is nosort of hurry!"
She felt that Henri wished to discuss something important with her:hers was too direct a nature to put him off with flimsy excuses whenhe desired a serious talk.
"Should we walk on a little, talking as we go?" she suggested, with acharming smile. To walk and talk with Henri was such a pleasure!
De Loubersac agreed.
The young couple crossed the Esplanade des Invalides, and by way ofthe rue Saint-Dominique, the boulevard Saint-Germain, and rueBuonaparte, reached the Luxembourg Gardens. Here they could talk atease.
A few casual remarks, and Henri de Loubersac came to his point.
"Dear Wilhelmine, there is a series of mysteries in your life which Icannot help thinking about: mysteries which trouble me greatly!...Forgive me for speaking to you so frankly!... You know how sincere myfeeling for you is!... My love for you is strong and deep.... My onedesire in life is to join my fate, my existence, to yours.... Butbefore that, there are some things we must speak of together, seriousthings perhaps, about which we must have a clear understanding."
Wilhelmine had grown strangely pale. Despite the protestations of lovein which her future fiance had wrapped his questions, she was greatlytroubled. The painful moment she had waited for had come: she musttell Henri de Loubersac the secret of her life: no very grave secretif considered by itself; but the consequences of it, and theinnumerable deductions that could be drawn from it, might reactunfavourably on their relations to each other!
Wilhelmine must speak out.
They were just outside the church of Saint-Sulpice. Some large dropsof rain fell.
"Let us go into the church!" said Wilhelmine: "It will be quiet there.If what I have to say to you is said in that holy place, you willfeel that I am speaking the truth. It is almost a confession." Thepoor girl's voice trembled slightly as she uttered these decisivewords--words that frightened de Loubersac. What shocking revelationsdid they foreshadow?
He acquiesced: the lovers entered the porch.
As he stepped aside to let Wilhelmine pass, he noticed a cab withdrawn blinds which had that minute drawn up not far from the space infront of the church. He examined it anxiously.
"It seemed to me we were being followed--shadowed," replied deLoubersac. "It is of little importance, however--we must expect thatin our service."
"Yes, you also have secrets," remarked Wilhelmine.
"They are only professional ones: there is nothing about mypersonality to hide: my life is an open book for all the world toread!"
De Loubersac's tone was hard.
It hurt Wilhelmine.
* * * * *
For some while they had been seated behind a pillar, in the shadow:Wilhelmine had been speaking: Henri had been listening.
She told him she was not the daughter of the baron de Naarboveck, thather real name was Therese Auvernois.[5]
[Footnote 5: See _Fantomas_: vol. i, Fantomas Series.]
This told de Loubersac nothing.
Wilhelmine explained that her childhood had been passed in an ancientchateau, on the banks of the Dordogne, with her grandmother, theMarquise de Langrune. One fatal December day the Marquise had beenassassinated. They were led to believe the assassin was a young man,son of a friend of the family, by name, Charles Rambert. This tragedyhad altered the whole course of the orphan girl's life. She was takencare of by the father of the supposed murderer, a worthy old man,Monsieur Etionne Rambert. He recommended her to Lady Beltham, whosehusband had been murdered some months before; thus the bereaved girlcame to live under Lady Beltham's wing, and grew very fond of her.Then Monsieur Etionne Rambert disappeared in a shipwreck, andWilhelmine went with Lady Beltham to her castle in Scotland.
Two peaceful years passed. Among other friends and visitors,Wilhelmine met the Baron de Naarboveck, a foreign diplomat. Then LadyBeltham went to France, and one sad day the orphan girl learned thather mother by adoption had died there![6]
[Footnote 6: See _The Exploits of Juve_: vol. ii, Fantomas Series.]
Six dreary, anxious months followed. Then the baron, the only personin the whole world who seemed to care whether she lived or died, cameto find her. He took her to Paris. There he decided to pass her off ashis daughter, declaring he had very grave reasons for doing so.
Though making her the centre of a mystery, for undeclared reasons ofhis own, de Naarboveck was very good to her, helped her to unravel herfinancial affairs, and informed her that she was the owner of a largefortune. He told her that some day she would have to go to a foreigncountry to take possession of this fortune--the baron did not saywhere.
Wilhelmine stopped her narrative, jumped up, pointing to a shadowmoving across an altar.
"Did you see?" she questioned anxiously.
"I think I did," answered Henri de Loubersac. "It is the shadow ofsome passer-by thrown into relief on the light background."
"Oh, I hope we are not being spied on!"
"Of whom are you afraid?" asked de Loubersac.
Wilhelmine--or Therese Auvernois, as she had confessed herself tobe--glanced about her. There was not a soul within hearing! Now shewould speak her mind to Henri--her dear Henri--and tell him all.
"You want to know, dear one, why my existence has been surrounded withso many mysterious precautions of late years! You wish to know why thebaron is so determined that my real identity should remain hidden! Youare right; for I have long asked myself the same question. When Ispoke to the baron about this for the first time--it was only a fewweeks ago, and told him that I wished to appear as what I really am,Therese Auvernois, my father by adoption--I may call him that, seeinghow good, how kind he has been to me--began by telling me it wasimpossible--that the most terrible misfortunes would result from sucha revelation.... I insisted. I wanted to know what these dreadfulmisfortunes would be, and why they would follow as a matter of course,were it made known that I am Therese Auvernois. Thereupon the barontold me astonishing things.
"According to him, from the time of my poor grandmother's death, I,and those near to me, all those about me, were pursued, not only by aterrible fatality, but also by a being, who, for unknown motives,wished to sow perpetual death and terror among those intimatelyconnected with us.
"The baron did not want to talk of all this, but I made him speak out.Bit by bit, I
learned the details of one of those tragedies whichtouched my life when a child. I went to the National Library,secretly, and looked through the newspapers of that period. I noticedthat in whatever concerned us, whether legally or privately, closelyor distantly, one name appeared and reappeared, a terrifying andlegendary name, the name of a being we think of but dare notmention--the name of Fantomas!"
Henri de Loubersac was staggered. This statement of the girl he knewas Wilhelmine de Naarboveck, far from impressing him favourably,seemed to him an improbable story invented, every bit of it, for thesole purpose of putting him on the wrong track.
He had learned to love this charming girl, believing her to besincere, honest, pure, brought up as a young girl should be, amidstelegant and distinguished surroundings: now, behold an abyss openedbefore his eyes, separating him from one whom he was now inclined toconsider an adventuress.
He remembered Juve's words!
Granting the truth of her statement, that a tragedy had shadowed heryoung life and altered her existence, this did not prevent her fromhaving been seduced by Captain Brocq! Rather, her early experienceswould tend to break down the barriers, behind which nice girls livedand moved!... There were things that called for an explanation! Forinstance, how explain the intimacy existing between de Naarboveck, hisso-called daughter, and this Mademoiselle Berthe, whose part in theaffair engaging de Loubersac's attention was open to the gravestsuspicions?...
Wilhelmine continued what she called her confession, thinking aloud,opening her heart, confiding in her dear Henri, whose silence she tookfor sympathy and encouragement.
"Fantomas," she murmured: "I cannot tell you how often I have thoughtover this maddening, this puzzling personality, terrifying beyondwords, who seems implacably bent on our destruction!... Again andagain I have had reason to fear that his ill-omened influence has beendirected against my humble self!... As if he guessed something ofthis, the baron has frequently sought to reassure me; yet, throughsome singular coincidence, each time we have spoken of Fantomas atragedy has occurred, a dreadful tragedy, which has reminded us ofmonstrous crimes committed by him in the past!"
Wilhelmine's statements were impressing de Loubersac less and lessfavourably.
"Play acting--and clumsy play acting at that!" decided Henri: "Done toavert my suspicions, imagined to feed my curiosity!... She thinksherself a capable player at the game! She does not know the person sheis playing with!"
De Loubersac came to a decision. He rose, stood close to Wilhelmine,who also rose, instinctively, looked her straight in the face, andasked, point-blank:
"Wilhelmine de Naarboveck, or Therese Auvernois--it matters little tome--I wish to know the real truth.... Confess, then, that you wereCaptain Brocq's mistress!"
"Monsieur!" exclaimed the startled girl. She met de Loubersac'sinquisitorial look proudly.
His penetrating stare did not falter.
Suddenly Wilhelmine's lips began to tremble. She grew deadly pale: shemight have been on the verge of a fainting fit. She had realised theincredulity of the man to whom, in her chaste innocence, she had givenher heart. In the pure soul of this loving girl an immense void madeitself felt. It was as though a flashlight had revealed to her thelamentable truth: that the strange position in which destiny hadplaced her--a position strange but not infamous--had made of her abeing apart, had put her outside the ordinary life of humanity,outside the law of love!... A desire to explain, to convince, tojustify herself, the desire of a desperate creature at bay, burned upin her like a flame: it flashed and died. Henri had no confidence inher! He believed this odious thing of her--this abominable, incrediblething!... Her heart was full to bursting with an agony of grief, ofoutraged innocence.... She looked him straight in the eyes--her ownflashing fury.
"You insult me!" she cried.... "Withdraw what you have just said!...You will apologise!"
De Loubersac said in a low, distinct voice:
"I maintain my accusation, Mademoiselle, until you have furnished mewith absolute, undeniable proofs!"...
De Loubersac's voice failed him. Wilhelmine had turned from him. Shehurried to the door, descended the church steps, and threw herselfinto a passing cab.
De Loubersac had followed her.
In tones of contempt she had flung at him the words:
"Farewell, monsieur--and for ever!"
Henri's answer was a shrug of the shoulder.
As he stood there, an outline, a shadow, appeared under the churchporch: a something, a being, indescribable, appeared, disappeared,running with spirit-like swiftness, vanishing. Henri de Loubersac hada clear conviction that during his conversation with her who mighthave been his fiancee in days to come, they had been shadowed, spiedupon!