The Waxworks Murder

'Ah! – About what?'

'About Odette Duchene's death. ... It came to me this afternoon. I have never had a genuine emotion in my life. No, don't interrupt! Did I ever say I loved you? I look at you now' - she surveyed him in a rather puzzled way, and it was like a lash - 'and all I can see is an unpleasant-looking man with a red nose.' All of a sudden she laughed. 'That I ever felt anything! All I ever knew was how to sing, I poured so much of emotion into that, do you hear, I was so strung up always, I conceived of everything in terms of grand passion - I was a neurotic, grabbing fool - and so. ... ' She made a gesture, spilling the champagne. 'What are you driving at?'

'And last night! Last night I saw my fearless gentleman. I went to the club to meet Claudine, and I walked into the passage when the murderer stabbed her. ... And then, Etienne?'

'Well?' His voice was rising, dangerous and hoarse.

'I was sick with fright. What else? I ran out of that club, up the boulevard - and met you coming out of your car. You were safety, support, and I threw myself at you when I could hardly stand. ... And what does my Titan of strength do when he hears?' She leaned forward, smiling fixedly. 'He puts me into his car and tells me to wait for him. Is he going back to the club to see what has happened? Is he going to shield me? - No, Etienne. He runs straight to a convenient night club, where he can sit down openly and establish an alibi for himself in case anybody questions him! And he stays there while I am lying insensible in the back of his car.'

I had disliked Galant before that. But I had not felt the surge of murderous rage which overcame me when I heard this. I had no longer any fear of discovery. To smash that nose into a deeper red pulp against his face ... there would be sheer pleasure. Evil which possesses courage you can respect, like Richard Humpback's; but this! His hard face was swelling as he turned it to her.

'What else have you to say?' he asked, with an effort.

'Don't,' she said.

Her breast was heaving, and a glassiness had crept into her eyes when she saw his big hand move up along the back of the lounge.

'Don't do it, fitienne. Let me tell you something. Just before I left the theatre to-night I sent a pneumatique to a man named Bencolin. .. .'

The enormous hand clenched, and sinews of muscle stood out on the wrist. I could not see his face, except for the working of the jaw muscles, but I felt an explosion swell and darken here....

'It contained certain information, Etienne. Just how much I won't tell you. But if anything happens to me, you'll go to the guillotine.'

A silence. Then she said huskily:

'Why, when I look back at what I thought - there was in. life. . .. And to-day I saw Odette in her coffin and remembered - and how I ragged her about being so homelike, and thought she was a damned little fool who ought to get a good waking up, and hated her for getting pleasure out of little things . . . and then the expression of her face!'

Very thoughtfully Galant nodded. His hand had relaxed.

'And so, my dear, you will tell the police. What will you tell them?'

'The truth. It was an accident.'

'I see. Mademoiselle Odette died by an accident. And your other friend, Claudine, was that an accident also?'

'You know it wasn't. You know it was deliberate murder.'

'Come, we are getting along! At least you admit that.'

Something in his voice roused her from her drugged torpor. Again her face turned; I saw the taut nostrils. She knew that he was holding threats gently, as a man shakes a whip before lashing out with it.

'Now, darling,' he went on, 'suppose you tell me. How did this "accident" occur?'

'As though - as though you didn't know! Oh, damn you! what have you got —!'

'I was not in the room at the time, as I think you will admit. This is all I can safely say: You and your good friend Mademoiselle Martel loathed the excellent Odette.

.. . Please, please, my dear, don't use your devastating stage contempt on me; the look is too dramatic. Neither of you could understand why she should want a husband and babies, and a dull cottage at Neuilly or a duller army post in the colonies. So you arranged a little reception for her here.'

'There wasn't anything in it! I tell you I'm willing to go to the police....'

He drained his glass of champagne, and then leaned over to pat her hand. She moved it away, but she was trembling.

'The moving spirit, I am willing to admit,' he said, with a magnanimous gesture, 'was Mademoiselle Martel. You were unable to get your friend Odette here on any pretext except one, which was for Mademoiselle Martel to tell her, and repeat it so frequently that she grew hysterical, a certain lie - namely, my dear, that Captain Chaumont came frequently to this club. Does she doubt it ? A shrug. She may look for herself. ... What a good joke it would be! What a taste of the real life she should get! Bring her here, ply her with wine, introduce her to some gallant later in the evening. . .. She wouldn't come here at night? The afternoon would do as well, for much champagne could be administered before night. .. .'

Gina Prevost had pressed her hands over her eyes.

'Now, I was unacquainted with the precise nature of your plan, my dear,' Galant resumed. 'As to the last I am only guessing. But your behaviour tells me much. However,' he shrugged, 'I approved the idea. I allowed you to bring her, without a key, past the guards. But what went on in that room - by the way, you used M. Robiquet's room, because you knew he was in London and could not possibly be there - what went on in that room I do not know.'

'I told you, didn't I ?'

'Please relax, my dear Gina: you are exciting yourself. Did you?'

'I don't know what your game is. I'm afraid of you. ...

It was an accident; you know it. At least, it was Claudine's fault. Odette got hysterical when we - we put her off about seeing Robert Chaumont —' 'And then?'

'And Claudine had been drinking, and all of a sudden she flared out. She told Odette not to worry: we'd get her a man as good as Chaumont. It was awful! I only intended a joke. I just wanted to see how she'd take it. But Claudine always hated her, and Claudine turned into a fury. I saw that the thing was getting past us, and I was scared. And Claudine said : "I'll shake some sense into you, you little snivelling hypocrite," and —'

She swallowed hard, looking at him wildly. 'Claudine dashed towards her. Odette jumped up across the bed to run from her, and she tripped, and - O Christ! - when I saw that glass break, and Odette's face. . . . ! We heard her hit the court down there....'

There was a terrible, gasping silence. I turned away from the screen, feeling rather sick.

'I didn't mean — ! I didn't mean — !' the girl whispered. 'But you knew. You came up and promised to take her away. You said she was dead, and that you would handle it, or we'd both go to the guillotine. Didn't you?'

'So,' Galant said meditatively, 'she died by an accident, did she? She died from falling out of the window, of a fractured skull? ... My dear, have you seen the newspapers?'

'What do you mean?'

He rose and stood looking down at her. 'Sooner or later the fall might have killed her. But as to what else went on up here! Why, you can see in the newspapers that the real cause of death was a stab through the heart, eh?'

The soft swing of his hand continued, curling back for the crack of the whip. His lips were pursed and smugness again spread round his eyes.

'The knife with which she was stabbed,’ he said, 'was not found. And no wonder. It belongs to you, I believe. If the police look, they can find it hidden in your dressing-room at the Moulin Rouge. ... Now I hope, my dear, you did not give too much information to Monsieur Bencolin?'