The Waxworks Murder

She spoke harshly: 'Please do not think that flattery - - '

'Let me assure you I think nothing of the kind. If I wanted to win your regard, I should insult you; you would like me better. Wouldn't you? On the contrary, I have the whip hand over you'

I regarded her casually, trying to seem disinterested. She saw me fumbling in my pocket after cigarettes, and with a curt nod indicated a lacquer box on a tabouret at my elbow.

'Explain what you mean, monsieur.'

'I can save you from bankruptcy. That would please you more than anything in the world, wouldn't it?'

Colour burnt under her brilliant eyes. 'Be careful!' she snapped.

'But wouldn't it?' I asked, feigning surprise.

'Why do you - why does everybody - assume that I care for nothing but — !' She checked herself on the edge of an outburst. She went on calmly: 'You have surprised a secret, monsieur. You see me as I have always wanted to be. But please don't try to evade. What do you mean?'

I lit a cigarette deliberately. 'First, mademoiselle, we must assume certain things. We must agree that you were formerly part owner, and are now full owner of the Club of Masks.'

'Why must we assume that?'

'Mademoiselle, please! It's perfectly legal, you know. .. . It was an inspiration, brought about by a clout on the head after having heard certain things from Monsieur Galant. Then, too, that bank balance of a million francs! It could hardly have come from being a mere - shall we say, gatekeeper?'

The last was a chance shot, which had just then occurred to me. But I suddenly realized it must be the truth, and that I had been blind for not perceiving it before. A million francs, I should have known, was too huge a sum to have been amassed only from providing a second entrance.

'Therefore ... I think I can provide you with proof that Galant intends to betray you. If I do, can you get me out of here?'

'Ah! So you still are dependent on me!' she said, with satisfaction.

I nodded. She glanced at the revolver; on an impulse she dropped it beside her chair. Then she came over and sat down beside me on the chaise-longue, looking down into my face. My eyes must have shown that I felt her nearness,

that I took in her lips and eyes with an expression which had nothing to do with bankruptcy. Yes, she felt that regard, and she was not displeased. She had lost her snappish austerity. She breathed a little more heavily, and

her half-closed eyes glittered. I continued to smoke placidly

'Why are you here?' she demanded.

'To get evidence in a murder case. That is all.'

'And - did you get it?'

'Yes.'

'I hope you found, then, that it did not implicate me?'

'It did not implicate you in the least, Mademoiselle Augustin. And it need not at all implicate the club, either.'

She clenched her hands. 'The club! The club! Is that all you can say? Do you think that everything with me is a matter of business? Listen. Do you know why this place has been the dream of my life ?'

The hard mouth dropped a little. She pounded slowly on the cushions; she stared past my shoulder, and said, in a tense voice:

'There is only one complete joy. That is leading two lives - the drudge and - and the princess. Contrasting them and tasting them each day. I have done that. Each day is a new dream. I sit out in my glass booth by day; I wear cotton stockings, and fight with the butcher, and scrape for a sou.

I scream abuse at the street children, hand tickets into grimy paws, cook cabbage over a wood stove, and mend my father's shirts. I do all this faithfully; I delight in scrubbing the floor   '

Then Mlle Augustin shrugged. 'Because at night I can feel then a thousand times more fully the pleasures of - this. Bien! the day is finished. I close up. I see my father to bed. And then I come back here. Each time it is like walking into the Arabian Nights.'

Her low voice trailed away. She crossed her arms over her breast and pressed hard; she seemed to be breathing deeply, like one under an anaesthetic, and to be carried away by it. She seemed also to be savouring the incense, the texture of the satin gown, the deep and gleaming opulence of the room - and her dark-red slipper brushed up and down, slowly, the deep rug. Her head was half thrown back, the eyes gleaming and heavy-lidded. . . .

I crushed out my cigarette. I half rose.

And then suddenly, at my movement, the dreaming vanished. A queer little smile twisted her lips.

'But I play with my emotions,' she said, 'a long time -before taking them. Lie down. Rest your head.'

I applauded, making no sound, and bowed. Again we spoke to each other without words. None the less I said: 'But it would be picturesque. With the bodyguard searching for me out there with knives.. ..'

'Now that we begin to understand each other, will you tell me what you meant about "saving" me ?'

'Yes. I'm delighted to do the damned prudent lad an ill turn. As a matter of fact, I am going to tell you everything I heard to-night.'

'Is it wise?'

'No. If you have a guilty conscience of either murder — '

She shook me by the shoulder. 'I swear to you that all I know about - about either of them is what I read in the papers! And if you hadn't told me last night that the two were connected, I shouldn't have known it.'

'Yet, my dear girl, you lied last night. You said you had seen Odette Duchene leave the waxworks.'

'That was because of my father. And that was all! Your friend Monsieur Bencolin knows as much. ... I tell you I simply supposed she had gone out by the other door, into the boulevard.'

I blew smoke rings at the ceiling. Once you drove this young lady into a corner, you could keep her there. I pointed out:

'But, being one of the owners here, you must have known she wasn't a member of the club. How, then, did you account for her "leaving by the other door" ?'

'In time,' she mused, studying me, 'you may be very nearly as good at questioning as Monsieur Bencolin. Oh, a long time. . . . But listen. There are exceptions. If Monsieur Galant gives orders - they can go in. I can definitely prove that I was in the booth all day. I know nothing! Do you believe it?'

I risked everything. I told her all I had heard that night. For, if she believed my story about Galant's intent to wreck the club, then I had an ally of the most powerful sort.

' .. . So,' I concluded, 'if there's a safe in the office, and you know the combination, you might just open it and see whether or not these messages to the newspapers have been prepared.'

She sat quietly while I was talking, but now her face had again assumed that rigidity of last night. She looked dangerous.

'Wait here,' she said.

She left the room by a door at the far end, locking it after her. I lay back on the cushions. Heigho! Everything was topsy-turvy. They were searching the club for me, and here I sat cosily in their midst, with comfortable cushions under me and cigarettes within reach. The situation was almost perfect. No luckier words had ever been spoken than those of Galant when he told of his last joke. If Marie Augustin really found the evidence in the safe, then I fancied I should hear whatever she happened to know about these murders.

She returned in less than five minutes. Closing the door with a snap, she stood with her back to it. Her eyes were dull with anger, and I saw that she had papers in her hands. As though she made a sudden decision, she went to one of the braziers of hammered gold in which the incense was smoking, removed the plate of incense, and threw the papers into it. Then she struck a match.

A flame licked up out of the gold bowl. Against the black-and-gilt background, ornamented with hieroglyphics and storks, she looked like a priestess. Only when the fire had died did she straighten up from staring at it.