“They are hidden in this room.”
“In that case, you know where they are.”
“How should I know?”
“Was it not you who found the hiding-place? You appear to be as well informed…as Salvator.”
“The letters are not in the hiding-place.”
“They are.”
“Open it.”
Varin looked at him, defiantly. Were not Daspry and Salvator the same person? Everything pointed to that conclusion. If so, Varin risked nothing in disclosing a hiding-place already known.
“Open it,” repeated Daspry.
“I have not got the seven of hearts.”
“Yes, here it is,” said Daspry, handing him the iron plate. Varin recoiled in terror, and cried:
“No, no, I will not.”
“Never mind,” replied Daspry, as he walked toward the bearded king, climbed on a chair and applied the seven of hearts to the lower part of the sword in such a manner that the edges of the iron plate coincided exactly with the two edges of the sword. Then, with the assistance of an awl which he introduced alternately into each of the seven holes, he pressed upon seven of the little mosaic stones. As he pressed upon the seventh one, a clicking sound was heard, and the entire bust of the King turned upon a pivot, disclosing a large opening lined with steel. It was really a fire-proof safe.
“You can see, Varin, the safe is empty.”
“So I see. Then, my brother has taken out the letters.”
Daspry stepped down from the chair, approached Varin, and said:
“Now, no more nonsense with me. There is another hiding-place. Where is it?”
“There is none.”
“Is it money you want? How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“Monsieur Andermatt, are those letters worth then thousand francs to you?”
“Yes,” said the banker, firmly.
Varin closed the safe, took the seven of hearts and placed it again on the sword at the same spot. He thrust the awl into each of the seven holes. There was the same clicking sound, but this time, strange to relate, it was only a portion of the safe that revolved on the pivot, disclosing quite a small safe that was built within the door of the larger one. The packet of letters was here, tied with a tape, and sealed. Varin handed the packet to Daspry. The latter turned to the banker, and asked:
“Is the check ready, Monsieur Andermatt?”
“Yes.”
“And you have also the last document that you received from Louis Lacombe—the one that completes the plans of the sub-marine?”
“Yes.”
The exchange was made. Daspry pocketed the document and the checks, and offered the packet of letters to Mon. Andermatt.
“This is what you wanted, Monsieur.”
The banker hesitated a moment, as if he were afraid to touch those cursed letters that he had sought so eagerly. Then, with a nervous movement, he took them. Close to me, I heard a moan. I grasped Madame Andermatt’s hand. It was cold.
“I believe, monsieur,” said Daspry to the banker, “that our business is ended. Oh! no thanks. It was only by a mere chance that I have been able to do you a good turn. Good-night.”
Mon. Andermatt retired. He carried with him the letters written by his wife to Louis Lacombe.
“Marvelous!” exclaimed Daspry, delighted. “Everything is coming our way. Now, we have only to close our little affair, comrade. You have the papers?”
“Here they are—all of them.”
Daspry examined them carefully, and then placed them in his pocket.
“Quite right. You have kept your word,” he said.
“But—”
“But what?”
“The two checks? The money?” said Varin, eagerly.
“Well, you have a great deal of assurance, my man. How dare you ask such a thing?”
“I ask only what is due to me.”
“Can you ask pay for returning papers that you stole? Well, I think not!”
Varin was beside himself. He trembled with rage; his eyes were bloodshot.
“The money…the twenty thousand.…” he stammered.
“Impossible! I need it myself.”
“The money!”
“Come, be reasonable, and don’t get excited. It won’t do you any good.”
Daspry seized his arm so forcibly, that Varin uttered a cry of pain. Daspry continued:
“Now, you can go. The air will do you good. Perhaps you want me to show you the way. Ah! yes, we will go together to the vacant lot near here, and I will show you a little mound of earth and stones and under it—”
“That is false! That is false!”
“Oh! no, it is true. That little iron plate with the seven spots on it came from there. Louis Lacombe always carried it, and you buried it with the body—and with some other things that will prove very interesting to a judge and jury.”
Varin covered his face with his hands, and muttered:
“All right, I am beaten. Say no more. But I want to ask you one question. I should like to know—”
“What is it?”
“Was there a little casket in the large safe?”
“Yes.”
“Was it there on the night of 22 June?”
“Yes.”
“What did it contain?”
“Everything that the Varin brothers had put in it—a very pretty collection of diamonds and pearls picked up here and there by the said brothers.”
“And did you take it?”
“Of course I did. Do you blame me?”
“I understand…it was the disappearance of that casket that caused my brother to kill himself.”
“Probably.
