Chapter V: Baffled

When they reached the ground floor Monsieur Fouchard was discovered fully occupied. He was sitting at a table with his note-book before him rapping out questions to Severin, whose nervousness was clearly manifested.

“You endorse this ridiculous story of a strange being who haunts the château, Monsieur Severin?”

“How can one help it?” stammered the old man. “If monsieur were in my place he would know it is true.”

“You have heard noises?”

“Awful noises.”

“Frequently?”

“Yes.”

“You have discovered things missing?”

“Many things.”

“What?”

“Food, wine and----”

“Food and wine are always missing in big establishments. But I will get to the point. Have you ever seen a strange person anywhere in the château?”

Severin trembled visibly and then nodded his head.

“Ah, we are getting warmer! Where did you see this person, and in what circumstances?”

“It was in the long west gallery--a year ago. He--it came towards me and stopped within a few yards of me. Monsieur, I was terrified. I tried to turn and run but could not. For a full minute he stood there laughing at me and then--then I think I lost my senses. When I came to there was nothing to be seen.”

“You saw it plainly--as you see me now. It was no shadow--no trick of the lighting?”

“_Mon Dieu_, it was in broad daylight. He was immense and covered by a robe--like a monk. A cowl was over his head and only his eyes and nose were visible. Cruel eyes and a hooked nose. When he laughed at me it was like no sound I had ever heard before.” Then in a burst of hysteria, “It was he who killed the master--I know it.”

“That will do, Monsieur Severin,” said Fouchard. “There is no other servant who has seen this creature?”

“No one, but all have heard him. No one in the village will come to the château. They all know.”

“Hm! That will do for the present.”

Severin shuffled out and Fouchard put his book into his pocket. He turned and glared at Wallace and Conrad.

“The hallucination of an old man,” he grumbled.

“It was no hallucination,” said Yolande quietly. “Severin is getting old, but he has all his senses. I know it was no hallucination because I too have seen this--this thing, and the description agrees perfectly.”

Fouchard raised his bushy eyebrows at this.

“I had no idea.”

“It was nearly two years ago. I am afraid you will have to accept facts. There is something in this château--man, beast, or spirit--that comes and goes and hides itself away successfully. I fear it has murdered my poor father.”

“Mademoiselle, I beg you not to draw premature conclusions,” urged Fouchard. “I mean to have every inch of the château and the precincts searched to-day. I trust you will permit me to use the servants as I think fit?”

“Do anything you wish. My one desire is to know the truth about my father.”

“Then we will get to work.”

He bowed and left the room. Yolande came across to Wallace and Conrad.

“What do you think of him?” she asked.

“I am not sure whether he is not bluffing us,” said Conrad. “I think he objects to our presence here, and Wallace has already stroked him the wrong way.”

“I don’t see why we should not all work together amicably,” said Wallace. “After all, we have a common object in view. I happened to discover something and immediately he pooh-poohed it; out of professional jealousy, I suppose. He has made up his mind not to accept Severin’s story.”

“What have you discovered?” asked Yolande.

Wallace hesitated, but she divined immediately that he had something unpleasant to narrate and encouraged him.

“Please don’t keep anything from me. I have suffered a terrible blow, but I am trying to fight this thing. I have made up my mind to stay here whatever happens. If this creature is human he must be brought to justice. I want to know everything.”

“Well, I discovered that your father’s room was apparently entered by the window. Certainly his body was taken out that way. The north tower could be reached by climbing the ivy--I have done it myself.”

“But with a big burden as my father would have been?”

“I think that even that is not impossible. At any rate, I found traces of--of blood in several places, also on the window-sill in the tower.”

“It--it is incredible!”

“I know. But you must remember that, immediately after the shot was fired, there were several persons in the corridor. Neither your father nor his assassin could have left the room on that side without being seen.”

“That is true, but to take a human body up-- You have been to the tower?”

“Yes. The trail ends there. I have an idea that your father is somewhere in this house.”

“Fouchard is now organising a search. Oh, if one could only entertain the faintest hope!”

They said nothing, for there was nothing of comfort to be said. It seemed so certain that Fallières had breathed his last in this world.

At the suggestion of Wallace they took the Bentley and made a tour of the district, leaving the search for the missing man in the hands of Fouchard. The trip was beneficial to Yolande. She fell in love with the car and for a time at least pushed the spectre into the background. The forest embraced many thousand acres and was dotted with woodmen’s huts, for it supplied fuel for the whole district. Here and there were war-time scars, but it had not suffered greatly, and the income from timber rights was considerable.

“The Germans made good use of it,” said Yolande. “After the occupation of the château they were able to withdraw with very few casualties.”

“Are the woodmen in your employ?” asked Wallace.

“Oh, no. They hold their cottages on small rentals, and have certain timber rights. My father employs a ranger who sees that the younger trees are preserved. He lives in the forest.”

In order to keep her from thoughts of her father, Wallace suggested she should drive the car. She accepted with obvious joy and quickly made herself acquainted with the controls. He watched her eyes brighten as she made a burst of speed along the straight road.

“I am in love with it,” she said. “I feel I would like to head for some distant place--Nice or Biarritz. It is a more lovable--more intimate machine than the Hispano. That reminds me that Watkins is due back this evening.”

“Who is Watkins?”

“The chauffeur. Yes, he is English, and most capable. We engaged him because he understands electrical matters, and is able to look after the power plant for the house. He speaks French--terrible French.”

On the homeward journey the old spectre began to rear its ugly head again. An atmosphere of gloom was entered immediately the towers of the château came to view. Wallace gazed at Conrad and saw that his friend’s mouth was firmly set. Yolande looked pale, and her small hands were clenched in her lap.

For the rest of the day the two guests prowled around the château, exploring outbuildings. When evening came, they had discovered nothing. Of Fouchard there had been no sign since the morning. Severin informed them that he had seen the detective going towards the forest.

“Has he sent the servants to make a search?” asked Wallace.

“Not to my knowledge, monsieur. The gardeners have been working in the greenhouse, and the indoor staff is in the servants’ hall.”

“Looks as if his search party comprises himself,” growled Conrad. “Mysterious devil!”

Shortly before dinner the two men were sitting in front of the château enjoying the wonderful sunset. But with the declining sun came an eerie sensation. Wallace laughed suddenly.

“What’s the matter?” ejaculated Conrad.

“We’re getting nervy, old man. It’s this sense of impotence. If only we were at grips with the problem it would be better. Where the devil is one to start?”

“We ought to have carried out a more thorough search on our own,” said Conrad. “I thought Fouchard was going to do it on a grand scale. Whatever may be his attitude, I am going to waste no more time. Let us collar Severin in the morning and ransack the place. If only we find Fallières’s body, that will be something achieved. The tension must be terrible for Yolande. She is magnificently courageous, but I am sure it would be better for her to know the worst than to be kept in this awful suspense.”

“I’m with you. But what on earth is Fouchard doing?”

“Here comes Yolande. Perhaps she has news.”

Yolande was half way across the courtyard, and the two men were making towards her when she suddenly stopped and uttered a cry. Her eyes were turned towards the north tower which was silhouetted against the crimsoning sky. Wallace looked up and gasped at what he saw. Standing in the narrow gallery that surrounded the tower was an immense figure, clad like a Capuchin monk. The arms were folded and it stood perfectly still--looking down into the wide courtyard.

“Look!”

“My God!” ejaculated Conrad.

“That is--he,” said Yolande in a weak voice.

Wallace caught her by the arm and pointed to the garage.

“The chauffeur has just returned. Please go and talk to him--it is safer. There is just a chance we may collar that thing.”

“Yes--yes. But take care. Oh, take care!”

“Have no doubt on that score,” he replied grimly.

She turned away and he swung round on Conrad, who was watching the still figure on the tower.

“Now’s the time, Connie. Have you got that pistol?”

“No, worse luck. Fouchard took it.”

“Never mind. We can pick up something on our way. There’s no time to waste. I reckon I can get into the top gallery before he can leave it. Follow me!”

With this he bolted for the main entrance. Conrad lost no time in following. Older man as he was, he was fit in wind and limb, and was good in an emergency. By the time he reached the hall, Wallace was out of sight. His eye caught a gleam of shining steel and he wrested a short sword from its hangings. With a low growl of excitement he followed hot on the heels of his young friend.

Panting, he reached the first landing, but Wallace had outstripped him easily. He made up the next flight of stairs at breakneck pace and eventually emerged into the top gallery. Dark as it was, he could see Wallace ahead of him with an awful-looking bludgeon in his hand. Wallace turned and beckoned him. He joined him in a few seconds.

“Any sign?” he whispered.

“No. But I don’t think he could have got away in the few seconds it has taken me to get here. I believe we have him cornered.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“The trouble lies in the tower itself. It is so infernally dark. I wish we had brought an electric torch. There is no lighting up there. Anyway, you hang on to me. He ought not to floor the pair of us.”

“No, but we ought to have taken the precaution of laying in firearms. If he happens to have an automatic----”

“Better not think about it. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

They crept along the remainder of the gallery and came to the entrance to the tower. Wallace pushed open the door slowly and then crept through. Before them was the dark, forbidding stone spiral staircase. Wallace slipped off his shoes and when Conrad had done likewise the ascent began.