“All the same, it was she who telephoned to Madame de Lourtier first, about that advertisement...”
“Very naturally. Hermance, who talks now and then, who argues, who buries herself in the newspapers, which she does not understand, as you were saying just now, but reads through them attentively, must have seen the advertisement and, having heard that we were looking for a servant, must have asked Félicienne to ring me up.”
“Yes... yes... that is what I felt,” said Rénine, slowly. “She marks down her victims... With Hortense dead, she would have known, once she had used up her allowance of sleep, where to find an eighth victim... But how did she entice the unfortunate women?”
The car was rushing along, but not fast enough to please Rénine, who rated the chauffeur:
“Push her along, Adolphe, can’t you?... We’re losing time, my man.”
Suddenly the fear of arriving too late began to torture him. The logic of the insane is subject to sudden changes of mood, to any perilous idea that may enter the mind. The madwoman might easily mistake the date and hasten the catastrophe, like a clock out of order which strikes an hour too soon.
On the other hand, as her sleep was once more disturbed, might she not be tempted to take action without waiting for the appointed moment? Was this not the reason why she had locked herself into her room? Heavens, what agonies her prisoner must be suffering! What shudders of terror at the executioner’s least movement!
“Faster, Adolphe, or I’ll take the wheel myself! Faster, hang it.”
At last they reached Ville d’Avray. There was a steep, sloping road on the right and walls interrupted by a long railing.
“Drive round the grounds, Adolphe. We mustn’t give warning of our presence, must we, M. de Lourtier? Where is the cottage?”
“Just opposite,” said M. de Lourtier-Vaneau.
They got out a little farther on. Rénine began to run along a bank at the side of an ill-kept sunken road. It was almost dark. M. de Lourtier said:
“Here, this building standing a little way back... Look at that window on the ground floor. It belongs to one of the separate rooms... and that is obviously how she slips out.”
“But the window seems to be barred.”
“Yes; and that is why no one suspected anything. But she must have found some way to get through.”
The ground floor was built over deep cellars. Rénine quickly clambered up, finding a foothold on a projecting ledge of stone.
Sure enough, one of the bars was missing.
He pressed his face to the windowpane and looked in.
The room was dark inside. Nevertheless he was able to distinguish at the back a woman seated beside another woman, who was lying on a mattress. The woman seated was holding her forehead in her hands and gazing at the woman who was lying down.
“It’s she,” whispered M. de Lourtier, who had also climbed the wall. “The other one is bound.”
Rénine took from his pocket a glazier’s diamond and cut out one of the panes without making enough noise to arouse the madwoman’s attention. He next slid his hand to the window-fastening and turned it softly, while with his left hand he levelled a revolver.
“You’re not going to fire, surely!” M. de Lourtier-Vaneau entreated.
“If I must, I shall.”
Rénine pushed open the window gently. But there was an obstacle of which he was not aware, a chair which toppled over and fell.
He leapt into the room and threw away his revolver in order to seize the madwoman. But she did not wait for him. She rushed to the door, opened it and fled, with a hoarse cry.
M. de Lourtier made as though to run after her.
“What’s the use?” said Rénine, kneeling down. “Let’s save the victim first.”
He was instantly reassured: Hortense was alive.
The first thing that he did was to cut the cords and remove the gag that was stifling her. Attracted by the noise, the old nurse had hastened in with a lamp, which Rénine took from her, casting its light on Hortense.
He was astounded: though livid and exhausted, with emaciated features and eyes blazing with fever, Hortense was trying to smile. She whispered:
“I was expecting you... I did not despair for a moment... I was sure of you...”
She fainted.
An hour later, after much useless searching around the cottage, they found the madwoman locked into a large cupboard in the loft. She had hanged herself.
Hortense refused to stay another night. Besides, it was better that the cottage should be empty when the old nurse announced the madwoman’s suicide. Rénine gave Félicienne minute directions as to what she should do and say; and then, assisted by the chauffeur and M. de Lourtier, carried Hortense to the car and brought her home.
She was soon convalescent. Two days later, Rénine carefully questioned her and asked her how she had come to know the madwoman.
“It was very simple,” she said. “My husband, who is not quite sane, as I have told you, is being looked after at Ville d’Avray; and I sometimes go to see him, without telling anybody, I admit. That was how I came to speak to that poor madwoman and how, the other day, she made signs that she wanted me to visit her. We were alone. I went into the cottage. She threw herself upon me and overpowered me before I had time to cry for help. I thought it was a jest; and so it was, wasn’t it: a madwoman’s jest? She was quite gentle with me... All the same, she let me starve. But I was so sure of you!”
“And weren’t you frightened?”
“Of starving? No. Besides, she gave me some food, now and then, when the fancy took her... And then I was sure of you!”
“Yes, but there was something else: that other peril...”
“What other peril?” she asked, ingenuously.
Rénine gave a start. He suddenly understood — it seemed strange at first, though it was quite natural — that Hortense had not for a moment suspected and did not yet suspect the terrible danger which she had run. Her mind had not connected with her own adventure the murders committed by the lady with the hatchet.
He thought that it would always be time enough to tell her the truth. For that matter, a few days later her husband, who had been locked up for years, died in the asylum at Ville d’Avray, and Hortense, who had been recommended by her doctor a short period of rest and solitude, went to stay with a relation living near the village of Bassicourt, in the center of France.
The Adventure of the Fire-Bug
by Ellery Queen
The Characters
Ellery Queen the detective
Nikki Porter his secretary
Inspector Queen his father, of Police Headquarters
Sergeant Velie of Inspector Queen’s staff
Sweeney a fire insurance agent
Ferguson who owns a cigar-and-stationery store
Jacob Tinker who owns a pawn-shop
Simon Tinker Tinker’s half-witted brother
Ferril who owns an interior-decorating shop
Mme. Delage who owns a milliner’s shop
Chief Hilliard of the Fire Department
and Firemen — Police — Street Spectators, etc.