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The Crystal Stopper-Part10_Maurice LeBlanc(1864-1941)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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rushed forward, crossed the best part of the hall and caught up his

antagonist just as he was reaching the door opening on the garden.



There was a cry of fright, answered by other cries on the further side

of the door.



"Oh, hang it, what's this?" muttered Lupin, whose arms had closed, in

the dark, round a little, tiny, trembling, whimpering thing.



Suddenly understanding, he stood for a moment motionless and dismayed,

at a loss what to do with his conquered prey. But the others were



shouting and stamping outside the door. Thereupon, dreading lest

Daubrecq should wake up, he slipped the little thing under his jacket,



against his chest, stopped the crying with his handkerchief rolled into

a ball and hurried up the three flights of stairs.



"Here," he said to Victoire, who woke with a start. "I've brought you

the indomitable chief of our enemies, the Hercules of the gang. Have



you a feeding-bottle about you?"

He put down in the easy-chair a child of six or seven years of age, the



tiniest little fellow in a gray jersey and a knitted woollen cap, whose

pale and exquisitely pretty features were streaked with the tears that



streamed from the terrified eyes.

"Where did you pick that up?" asked Victoire, aghast.



"At the foot of the stairs, as it was coming out of Daubrecq's bedroom,"

replied Lupin, feeling the jersey in the hope that the child had brought



a booty of some kind from that room.

Victoire was stirred to pity:



"Poor little dear! Look, he's trying not to cry!... Oh, saints above,

his hands are like ice! Don't be afraid, sonnie, we sha'n't hurt you:



the gentleman's all right."

"Yes," said Lupin, "the gentleman's quite all right, but there's another



very wicked gentleman who'll wake up if they go on making such a rumpus

outside the hall-door. Do you hear them, Victoire?"



"Who is it?"

"The satellites of our young Hercules, the indomitable leader's gang."



"Well... ?" stammered Victoire, utterly unnerved.

"Well, as I don't want to be caught in the trap, I shall start by



clearing out. Are you coming, Hercules?"

He rolled the child in a blanket, so that only its head remained outside,



gagged its mouth as gently as possible and made Victoire fasten it to

his shoulders:



"See, Hercules? We're having a game. You never thought you'd find

gentlemen to play pick-a-back with you at three o'clock in the morning!



Come, whoosh, let's fly away! You don't get giddy, I hope?"

He stepped across the window-ledge and set foot on one of the rungs of



the ladder. He was in the garden in a minute.

He had never ceased hearing and now heard more plainly still the blows



that were being struck upon the front-door. He was astounded that

Daubrecq was not awakened by so violent a din:



"If I don't put a stop to this, they'll spoil everything," he said to

himself.



He stood in an angle of the house, invisible in the darkness, and

measured the distance between himself and the gate. The gate was open.



To his right, he saw the steps, on the top of which the people were

flinging themselves about; to his left, the building occupied by the



portress.

The woman had come out of her lodge and was standing near the people,



entreating them:

"Oh, do be quiet, do be quiet! He'll come!"



"Capital!" said Lupin. "The good woman is an accomplice of these as

well. By Jingo, what a pluralist!"



He rushed across to her and, taking her by the scruff of the neck,

hissed:



"Go and tell them I've got the child... They can come and fetch it at my

place, Rue Chateaubriand."



A little way off, in the avenue, stood a taxi which Lupin presumed to be

engaged by the gang. Speaking authoritatively, as though he were one of



the accomplices, he stepped into the cab and told the man to drive him

home.



"Well," he said to the child, "that wasn't much of a shake-up, was it?...

What do you say to going to bye-bye on the gentleman's bed?"



As his servant, Achille, was asleep, Lupin made the little chap

comfortable and stroked his hair for him. The child seemed numbed. His



poor face was as though petrified into a stiff expression made up, at one

and the same time, of fear and the wish not to show fear, of the longing



to scream and a pitiful effort not to scream.




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