Supposing the man really had killed my father, it was impossible that the scene of the murder should not be indelibly impressed upon his memory.In his dark hours the face of the dead man, whom Iresembled so closely, must have been visible to his mind's eye.
Once more I studied the portrait at which my stepfather had hardly dared to glance, and recalled my own words: "Do you think the likeness is sufficiently strong for me to have the effect of a specter upon the criminal?"Why not utilize this resemblance? I had only to present myself suddenly before Edmond Termonde, and call him by the name--Rochdale--to his ears its syllables would have the sound of a funeral bell.Yes! that was the way to do it; to go into the room he now occupied, just as my father had gone into the room at the Imperial Hotel, and to ask for him by the name under which my father had asked for him, showing him the very face of his victim.
If he was not guilty, I should merely have to apologize for having knocked at his door by mistake; if he was guilty, he would be so terrified for some minutes that his fear would amount to an avowal.
It would then be for me to avail myself of that terror to wring the whole of his secret from him.
What motives would inspire him? Two, manifestly--the fear of punishment, and the love of money.It would then be necessary for me to be provided with a large sum when taking him unawares, and to let him choose between two alternatives, either that he should sell me the letters which had enabled him to blackmail his brother for years past, or that I should shoot him on the spot.
And what if he refused to give up the letters to me? Is it likely that a ruffian of his kind would hesitate?
Well, then, he would accept the bargain, hand me over the papers by which my stepfather is convicted of murder, and take himself off;and I must let him go away just as he had gone away from the Imperial Hotel, smoking a cigar, and paid for his treachery to his brother, even as he had been paid for his treachery to my father!
Yes, I must let him go away thus, because to kill him with my own hand would be to place myself under the necessity of revealing the whole of the crime, which I am bound to conceal at all hazards.
"Ah, mother! what will you not cost me!" I murmured with tears.
Fixing my eyes again upon the portrait of the dead man, it seemed to me that I read in its eyes and mouth an injunction never to wound the heart of the woman he had so dearly loved--even for the sake of avenging him."I will obey you," I made answer to my father, and bade adieu to that part of my vengeance.
It was very hard, very cruel to myself; nevertheless, it was possible; for, after all, did I hate the wretch himself? He had struck the blow, it is true, but only as a servile tool in the hand of another.
Ah! that other, I would not let HIM escape, when he should be in my grip; he who had conceived, meditated, arranged, and paid for the deed; he who had stolen all from me, all, all, from my father's life even to my mother's love; he, the real, the only culprit.
Yes, I would lay hold of him, and contrive and execute my vengeance, while my mother should never suspect the existence of that duel out of which I should come triumphant.I was intoxicated beforehand with the idea of the punishment which I would find means to inflict upon the man whom I execrated.It warmed my heart only to think of how this would repay my long, cruel martyrdom.
"To work! to work!" I cried aloud.
I trembled lest this should be nothing but a delusion, lest Edmond Termonde should have already left the country, my stepfather having previously purchased his silence.
At nine o'clock I was in an abominable Private Inquiry Office--merely to have passed its threshold would have seemed to me a shameful action, only a few hours before.At ten I was with my broker, giving him instructions to sell out 100,000 francs' worth of shares for me.That day passed, and then a second.How I bore the succession of the hours, I know not.I do know that I had not courage to go to my mother's house, or to see her again.I feared she might detect my wild hope in my eyes, and unconsciously forewarn my stepfather by a sentence or a word, as she had unconsciously informed me.
Towards noon, on the third day, I learned that my stepfather had gone out that morning.It was a Wednesday, and on that day my mother always attended a meeting for some charitable purpose in the Grenelle quarter.M.Termonde had changed his cab twice, and had alighted from the second vehicle at the Grand Hotel.There he had paid a visit to a traveler who occupied a room on the second floor (No.353); this person's name was entered in the list of arrivals as Stanbury.At noon I was in possession of these particulars, and at two o'clock I ascended the staircase of the Grand Hotel, with a loaded revolver and a note-case containing one hundred banknotes, wherewith to purchase the letters, in my pocket.
Was I about to enter on a formidable scene in the drama of my life, or was I about to be convinced that I had been once more made the dupe of my own imagination?
At all events, I should have done my duty.
