CHAPTER XVII
OLD BOB’S TERRIBLE ADVENTURE
When I awakened my thoughts were still dwelling on Larsan. And, in truth, I did not know what to think either of myself or any other person--of Larsan’s death or of his life. Had he been wounded less seriously than we had thought? Or shall I say, “Was he _less dead_ than we had thought?” Had he been able to extricate himself from the sack which Darzac had cast in the gulf of Castillon? After all, the thing was not impossible, or, rather, the possibility was not altogether without the bounds of what might be looked for from the superhuman cunning and prowess of a Larsan--particularly since Walter had explained that he had found the sack three meters from the mouth of the abyss upon a natural landing place the existence of which M. Darzac assuredly did not suspect when he believed that he was throwing Larsan’s body into the orifice.
My second thoughts turned to Rouletabille. What was he doing now? Why had he gone away? Never had his presence at the Fort of Hercules been so necessary as now. If he delayed his return, this day could scarcely pass without bringing the unfriendly feeling between the Rances and the Darzacs to an open issue.
As I lay there puzzling my brain over the outcome of the affair, I heard someone knocking at my door. It was Pere Bernier, who brought me a brief note from my friend which had been handed to Pere Jacques by a little lad from the village. Rouletabille wrote: “I shall return early in the morning. Get up as soon as this reaches you and be good enough to go fishing for my breakfast and catch some of the fine trout which are so plentiful among the rocks near the Point of Garibaldi. Do not lose an instant. Thanks and remembrances.--ROULETABILLE.”
This communication gave me more food for thought, for I knew by experience that whenever Rouletabille seemed most occupied with trivial matters, his activity was really most thoroughly engaged with important subjects.
I dressed myself in haste, provided myself with some old tackle which was furnished me by Bernier, and set out to obey the request of my young friend. As I went out of the North gate, having encountered nobody at that early hour of the morning (it was about seven o’clock), I was joined by Mme. Edith, to whom I showed what Rouletabille had written. The young woman was greatly dejected over the unexplained absence of her uncle, remarked that the letter was “so queer that it made her nervous,” and she informed me that she intended to follow me to the trout streams. On the way, she confided to me the fact that her uncle had not an enemy in the world, so far as she knew, and she said that she had been hoping against hope that he would yet return and that everything would be satisfactorily explained, but now the idea had entered her brain that by some frightful mistake, Old Bob had fallen a victim to the vengeance of Darzac and she was nearly wild with apprehension.
And she added, between her pretty teeth, a few words of contempt and wrath for the Lady in Black. “My patience can hold out until noon, I hope!” she said, and then was silent.
We started to fish for Rouletabille’s trout. Mrs. Rance and I both removed our shoes and stockings, but I concerned myself more about the dainty bare feet of my pretty hostess than about my own. The fact is, that Edith’s feet, as I discovered in the Bay of Hercules, were as beautifully shaped and pink as flowers and they made me forget the trout of my poor Rouletabille to such an extent that he must certainly have gone without his breakfast if Edith had not shown more energy than I. She clambered into the pools and crept among the rocks with a grace which enchanted me more than I dared express. Suddenly we both desisted from our task and pricked up our ears at the same moment. We heard cries from the shore where the grottoes are. Upon the very threshold of the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet we distinguished a little group, the persons in which were making gestures of appeal. Urged on by the same presentiment, we hastily rushed to the beach and in a few seconds we learned that, attracted by moans, two fishermen had just discovered in a cave in the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet an unfortunate human being who had fallen into the chasm and who must have been there helpless for several hours.
The quick conjecture which rushed into both our minds at once proved to be the right one. It was Old Bob who had been fished out of the cave. When he had been drawn up on the beach in the full light of day, he certainly presented a pitiable spectacle. His beautiful black coat was torn and covered with mud and his white shirt was as black as tar. Mme. Edith burst into tears and nearly went into hysterics when she found that the old man had a broken collar bone and a sprained foot. And he was so pale that he looked as if he were going to die on the spot.
Happily, the case was far less serious than it at first appeared. Ten minutes later he was, according to his own orders, stretched out on his bed in his room in the Square Tower. But could anyone believe that he absolutely refused to be undressed, even so far as to have his coat removed, before the arrival of the doctors? Mme. Edith, more and more nervous, installed herself as his nurse; but when the physicians came, Old Bob ordered his niece not only to leave his room but to go out of the Square Tower altogether. And he insisted that the door should be locked after her.
This last precaution was a great surprise to us all. We were assembled in the Court of the Bold, M. and Mme. Darzac, M. Arthur Rance and myself, as well as Pere Bernier who haunted my footsteps, awaiting the news. When Mme. Edith quitted the tower after the arrival of the medical men, she came to us and said:
“Let us hope that his injuries won’t be serious. Old Bob is solid as a rock. What did I tell you about him? I have made his confess, the old sinner! He was trying to steal Prince Galitch’s skull which he believed to be more ancient than his own. Just the jealousy of one savant toward another. We shall all laugh at him when he is cured!”
At that moment the door of the Square Tower opened and Walter, Old Bob’s faithful servant, appeared. His face was pale and he seemed very nervous.
“Oh, Miss Edith!” he cried out. “He is covered with blood! He doesn’t want anything to be said about it, but he must be saved----”
Edith had already rushed into the Square Tower. As to us we dared not utter a word. Soon the young woman returned.
“Oh!” she sobbed. “It is frightful. His whole breast is torn open!”
I started to offer her the support of my arm, for, strangely enough M. Arthur Rance had withdrawn to some distance and was walking upon the boulevard, whistling and with his hands behind his back. I tried to comfort and to soothe Mme. Edith, but neither M. nor Mme. Darzac uttered a word.
* * * * *
Rouletabille reached the castle about an hour after these events. I watched for his return from the highest part of the western boulevard and as soon as I saw his form appearing in the distance I hurried to meet him. He cut short my demands for an explanation and asked me immediately if I had made a good catch, but I was not at all deceived by the expression of his countenance, and wishing to reply to him in his own style of banter, I replied:
“Oh, yes: a very good catch. I fished up Old Bob.”
He started violently. I shrugged my shoulders, for I believed that he was counterfeiting surprise, and I went on:
“Oh, go on! You knew very well what kind of fish I should find when you sent your message!”
He fixed an astonished glance on me.
“You certainly must be unaware of the purport of your words, my dear Sainclair, or else you would have spared me the trouble of protesting against such an accusation.”
“What accusation?” I cried.
“That of having left Old Bob in the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet, knowing that he might be dying there.”
“Oh, nonsense!” I cried. “Old Bob is far from dying. He has a sprained foot and a broken collar bone, and his story of his misfortune is perfectly plain and straightforward. He declares that he was trying to steal Prince Galitch’s skull.”
“What a funny idea!” exclaimed Rouletabille, bursting out laughing. He leaned toward me and looked full into my eyes.
“Do you believe that story? And--and that is all? No other injuries?”
“Yes,” I replied. “There is another injury, but the doctors declare that it is not at all serious. He has a wound in the breast.”
“A wound in the breast!” repeated Rouletabille, touching my hand, nervously. “And how was this wound made?”
“We do not know. None of us have seen it. Old Bob is strangely modest. He would not even permit his coat to be taken off in our presence; and the coat hid the wound so well that we should never have suspected it was there if Walter had not come to tell us, frightened at the sight of the blood.”
As soon as we came to the château, we encountered Mme. Edith, who appeared to have been watching for us.
“My uncle won’t have me near him,” she said, regarding Rouletabille with an air of anxiety different from anything I had ever noticed in her before. “It’s incomprehensible!”
“Ah, Madame,” replied the reporter, making a low bow to his hostess. “I assure you that nothing in the world is incomprehensible, when one is willing to take a little trouble to understand it.” And he offered her his congratulations upon having had her uncle restored to her at the moment when she was ready to despair of ever seeing him again.
Mme. Edith seemed about to inquire into the purport of the enigmatical words at the beginning of my friend’s remarks when we were joined by Prince Galitch. He had come to ask for news of his old friend, Bob, of whose misfortune he had learned. Mme. Edith reassured him as to her uncle’s condition and entreated the Prince to pardon her relative for his too excessive devotion to the “oldest skulls in the history of humanity.” The Prince smiled graciously and with the utmost kindliness when he was told that Old Bob had been attempting to steal his skull.
“You will find your skull,” Mrs. Rance told him, “in the bottom of the cave in the grotto where it rolled down with him. Your collection will be unimpaired, Prince.”
The Prince asked for the details. He seemed very curious about the affair. And Mme. Edith told how her uncle had acknowledged to her that he had quitted the Fort of Hercules by way of the air shaft which communicated with the sea. As soon as she said this, I recalled the experience of Rouletabille with the flask of water and also the close iron bars, and the falsehoods which Old Bob had uttered assumed gigantic proportions in my mind, and I was sure that the rest of the party must hold the same opinion as myself. Mme. Edith told us that Tullio had been waiting with his boat at the opening of the gallery abutting on the shaft, to row the old savant to the bank in front of the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet.
“Why so many twists and turnings when it was so simple to go out by the gate?” I could not restrain myself from exclaiming.
Mme. Edith looked at me reproachfully and I regretted having even seemed to have taken part against her in any way.
“And this is stranger yet!” said the Prince. “Day before yesterday, the ‘hangman of the sea’ came to bid me adieu, saying that he was going to leave the country, and I am sure that he took the train for Venice, his native city, at five o’clock in the afternoon. How then could he have conveyed your uncle in his boat late that night? In the first place, he was not in this part of the world; in the second, he had sold his boat. He told me so, adding that he would never return to this country.”
There was a dead silence and Prince Galitch continued:
“All this is of little importance--provided that your uncle, Madame, recovers speedily from his injuries and, again,” he added with another smile, more charming than those which had preceded it--“if you will aid me in regaining a poor piece of flint which has disappeared from the grotto and of which I will give you the description. It is a sharp piece of flint, twenty-five centimeters long and shaped at one end to the form of a dagger--in brief, the oldest dagger of the human race. I value it greatly and, perhaps you may be able to learn, Madame, through your uncle, Bob, what has become of it.”
Mme. Edith at once gave her promise to the Prince, with a certain air of haughtiness which pleased me greatly, that she would do everything possible to obtain for him news of so precious an object. The Prince bowed low and left us. When we had finished returning his parting salutes, we saw M. Arthur Rance before us. He must have heard the conversation for he seemed very thoughtful. He had his ivory-headed cane in his hand, and was whistling, according to his habit. And he looked at Mme. Edith with an expression so strange that she appeared somewhat exasperated.
“I know exactly what you are thinking, sir!” she said. “It does not astonish me in the least. And you may keep on thinking so, if it amuses you, for aught I care.”
And she stepped nearer Rouletabille, smiling nervously.
“At all events,” she exclaimed. “You can never explain to me how, when _he_ was outside the Square Tower, _he_ could have hidden behind that panel.”
“Madame,” said Rouletabille, slowly and impressively, looking at the young woman as though he were trying to hypnotize her, “have patience and have courage. If God is with me, before night I shall explain to you all that you wish to know.”