D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,83

of new servants, everything would go in a different way. At last Jeannette went to her bedroom. Dubois sat on a sofa, leaning back and clamping a cigar between his thick hairy fingers, when suddenly the silence of the house was pierced by a terrifying female cry. The owner of the ill-starred estate jumped up as if stung, pulled out a pistol from a table box, and rushed to a corridor.

Jeannette, mortally pale, lay motionless on the threshold of her bedroom. Having knelt down beside her, Dubois saw with relief that she had only fainted. Suddenly, at the other end of the corridor the scared majordomo appeared.

"What happened?" he shouted.

"She is alive," Dubois answered and only at this moment thought about the reason for her screaming and fainting. He glanced in the bedroom and felt growing cold inside him.

Marie, whose carefree temperament even the ominous events of the last few days couldn't trouble, hung under the room ceiling. The overturned chair lay on a floor. Having looked at the terrible face of the strangled girl, Dubois understood that death had already come and any attempts to aid her were useless.

"Damned bastard!" the businessman shouted. "Where are you hiding?! Come out–or are you afraid to meet me face to face?!"

"No, no, monsieur," said Leroi. He tried to speak calmly, but his voice quavered. "There is nobody here, except us. That's a suicide, no doubt, a suicide..."

Dubois turned to him. Having seen his face, the majordomo started back.

"Suicide?! Why the hell, in your learned opinion, should she have hanged herself?!"

"Who knows... girls at such an age... some amorous troubles..."

"Go for the doctor," Dubois restrained himself. "And if upon your return you don't find me alive, know that it won't be a suicide."

Soon after Leroi's departure, Jeannette came to her senses.

"Is it true that Marie is dead?" she asked. "It didn't seem real to me."

"Yes, unfortunately, it's true," Dubois answered.

"Poor Marie... Well, now we will leave here. Leave immediately."

"We will leave... " he absentmindedly responded, looking around like a badgered animal. The businessman who pulled off million-franc deals and managed the lives of many people, for the first time in many years was really frightened. All the previous deaths had reasonable explanations; but Marie's death was so absurd, irrational...

The doctor, however, demonstrated no special surprise–as well as the inspector with whom he, obviously, already shared his information.

"Poor Marie," Clavier echoed the words of Jeannette. "If only I had known that she would go there..."

"What are you trying to say?" Dubois impatiently exclaimed. "Is this a suicide?"

"Undoubtedly."

"But the motive?"

"Yesterday Marie asked me to examine her... She was pregnant."

Dubois suddenly felt idiotic desire to exclaim: "I had nothing to do with it!" Instead he addressed Leblanc:

"But, Inspector, if your hypothesis about the avenger is true, he could hang the maid, imitating suicide."

"I quite agree with the doctor," Leblanc answered, finishing inspecting the body. "You see, when a person is hanged against his will, either his hands are tied or he is previously made unconscious. Obviously, in both cases the victim can't grasp the rope. On the contrary, suicides usually reflexively do it at the last moment, which leaves on their hands the corresponding traces present in this case... Certainly, without a motive it wouldn't be absolute proof, but the doctor's information..."

Dubois pity for Marie disappeared instantly.

"She shouldn't have done it in my house!" he angrily exclaimed.

"I do not think that she specially wanted to cause you trouble," the doctor shook his head. "Possibly, it was a sudden impulsive decision. Probably, the oppressive atmosphere of the house was a factor...”

"Leave my house alone! 'The oppressive atmosphere,' 'the house of death'–all this is idiotic malarkey, and I will prove to all of you that it is possible to live a fine life here!"

As soon as the visitors left, Jeannette asked with anxiety:

"Jacques, you aren't going to remain here?"

"Certainly, we will remain."

"But you promised!"

"I thought that we were dealing with a devilishly capable and artful killer. But it appears that nobody killed Marie, so there is no danger."

"No danger?! Five deaths in two weeks!"

"It's just an extremely unpleasant coincidence. Well, not absolutely a coincidence... Each subsequent incident plays on the nerves of people, thereby increasing the probability of new tragedies..."

"You can argue as much as you want with a clever look on your face, but I won't remain here any longer."

"Jeannette, it is necessary to endure just a day more. And then new servant will arrive, and life will return to normal. We should not flee now; it