The Crystal Stopper was running on the surface of the water. Don Luis sat talking, with Stéphane, Patrice and All's Well, who were gathered round him:  
"What a swine that Vorski is!" he said. "I've seen that breed of monster before, but never one of his calibre."
 
"Then, in that case . . ." Patrice Belval objected.
 
"In that case?" echoed Don Luis.
 
"I repeat what I've said already. You hold a monster in your hands and you let him go free! To say nothing of its being highly immoral¹, think of all the harm that he can do, that he inevitably² will do! It's a heavy responsibility to take upon yourself, that of the crimes which he will still commit."
 
"Do you think so too, Stéphane?" asked Don Luis.
 
"I'm not quite sure what I think," replied Stéphane, "because, to save François, I was prepared to make any concession³. But, all the same . . ."
 
"All the same, you would rather have had another solution?"
 
"Frankly⁴, yes. So long as that man is alive and free, Madame d'Hergemont and her son will have everything to fear from him."
 
"But what other solution was there? I promised him his liberty in return for François' immediate⁵ safety. Ought I to have promised him only his life and handed him over to the police?"
 
"Perhaps," said Captain Belval.
 
"Very well. But, in that case, the police would institute enquiries, and by discovering the fellow's real identity bring back to life the husband of Véronique d'Hergemont and the father of François. Is that what you want?"
 
"No, no!" cried Stéphane, eagerly.
 
"No, indeed," confessed Patrice Belval, a little uneasily. "No, that solution is no better; but what astonishes me is that you, Don Luis, did not hit upon the right one, the one which would have satisfied us all."
 
"There was only one solution," Don Luis Perenna said, plainly. "There was only one."
 
"Which was that?"
 
"Death."
 
There was a pause. Then Don Luis resumed:
 
"My friends, I did not form you into a court simply as a joke; and you must not think that your parts as judges are played because the trial seems to you to be over. It is still going on; and the court has not risen. That is why I want you to answer me honestly: do you consider that Vorski deserves to die?"
 
"Yes," declared Patrice.
 
And Stéphane approved:
 
"Yes, beyond a doubt."
 
"My friends," Don Luis continued, "your verdict is not sufficiently⁶ solemn. I beseech⁷ you to utter it formally and conscientiously⁸, as though you were in the presence of the culprit. I ask you once more: what penalty did Vorski deserve?"
 
They raised their hands and, one after the other, answered:
 
"Death."
 
Don Luis whistled. One of the Moors⁹ ran up.
 
"Two pairs of binoculars¹⁰, Hadji."
 
The man brought the glasses and Don Luis handed them to Stéphane and Patrice:
 
"We are only a mile from Sarek," he said. "Look towards the point: the boat should have started."
 
"Yes," said Patrice, presently.
 
"Do you see her, Stéphane?"
 
"Yes, only . . ."
 
"Only what?"
 
"There's only one passenger."
 
"Yes," said Patrice, "only one passenger."
 
They put down their binoculars and one of them said:
 
"Only one has got away: Vorski evidently. He must have killed Otto, his accomplice¹¹."
 
"Unless Otto, his accomplice, has killed him," chuckled¹² Don Luis.
 
"What makes you say that?"
 
"Why, remember the prophecy made to Vorski in his youth: 'Your wife will die on the cross and you will be killed by a friend.'"
 
"I doubt if a prediction is enough."
 
"I have other proofs, though."
 
"What proofs?"
 
"They, my friends, form part of the last problem we shall have to elucidate¹³ together. For instance, what is your idea of the manner in which I substituted Elfride Vorski for Madame d'Hergemont?"
 
Stéphane shook his head:
 
"I confess that I never understood."
 
"And yet it's so simple! When a gentleman in a drawing-room, in a white tie and a tail-coat, performs conjuring¹⁴-tricks or guesses your thoughts, you say to yourself, don't you, that there must be some artifice¹⁵ beneath it all, the assistance of a confederate? Well, you need seek no farther where I'm concerned."
 
"What, you had a confederate?"
 
"Yes, certainly."
 
"But who was he?"
 
"Otto."
 
"Otto? But you never left us! You never spoke¹⁶ to him, surely?"
 
"How could I have succeeded without his help? In reality, I had two confederates in this business, Elfride and Otto, both of whom betrayed Vorski, either out of revenge or out of greed. While you, Stéphane, were luring¹⁷ Vorski past the Fairies' Dolmen, I accosted¹⁸ Otto. We soon struck a bargain, at the cost of a few bank-notes and in return for a promise that he would come out of the adventure safe and sound. Moreover I informed him that Vorski had pouched¹⁹ the sisters Archignat's fifty thousand francs."
 
"How did you know that?" asked Stéphane.
 
"Through my confederate number one, through Elfride, whom I continued to question in a whisper while you were looking out for Vorski's coming and who also, in a few brief words, told me what she knew of Vorski's past."
"When all is said, you only saw Otto that once."
 
"Two hours later, after Elfride's death and after the fireworks in the hollow oak, we had a second interview, under the Fairies' Dolmen. Vorski was asleep, stupefied with drink, and Otto was mounting guard. You can imagine that I seized the opportunity to obtain particulars of the business and to complete my information about Vorski with the details which Otto for two years had been secretly collecting about a chief whom he detested²⁰. Then he unloaded Vorski's and Conrad's revolvers, or rather he removed the bullets, while leaving the cartridges²¹. Then he handed me Vorski's watch and note-book, as well as an empty locket and a photograph of Vorski's mother which Otto had stolen from him some months before, things which helped me next day to play the wizard with the aforesaid Vorski in the crypt where he found me. That is how Otto and I collaborated²²."
 
"Very well," said Patrice, "but still you didn't ask him to kill Vorski?"
 
"Certainly not."
 
"In that case, how are we to know that . . ."
 
"Do you think that Vorski did not end by discovering our collaboration²³, which is one of the obvious causes of his defeat? And do you imagine that Master Otto did not foresee this contingency²⁴? You may be sure that there was no doubt of this: Vorski, once unfastened from his tree, would have made away with his accomplice, both from motives²⁵ of revenge and in order to recover the sisters Archignat's fifty thousand francs. Otto got the start of him. Vorski was there, helpless, lifeless, an easy prey²⁶. He struck him a blow. I will go farther and say that Otto, who is a coward, did not even strike him a blow. He will simply have left Vorski on his tree. And so the punishment is complete. Are you appeased²⁷ now, my friends? Is your craving²⁸ for justice satisfied?"
 
Patrice and Stéphane were silent, impressed by the terrible vision which Don Luis was conjuring up before their eyes.
 
"There," he said, laughing, "I was right not to make you pronounce sentence over there, when we were standing²⁹ at the foot of the oak, with the live man in front of us! I can see that my two judges might have flinched³⁰ a little at that moment. And so would my third judge, eh, All's Well, you sensitive, tearful fellow? And I am like you, my friends. We are not people who condemn³¹ and execute. But, all the same, think of what Vorski was, think of his thirty murders and his refinements³² of cruelty and congratulate me on having, in the last resort, chosen blind destiny as his judge and the loathsome³³ Otto as his responsible executioner. The will of the gods be done!"
 
The Sarek coast was making a thinner line on the horizon. It disappeared in the mist in which sea and sky were merged³⁴.
 
The three men were silent. All three were thinking of the isle³⁵ of the dead, laid waste by one man's madness, the isle of the dead where soon some visitor would find the inexplicable³⁶ traces of the tragedy, the entrances to the tunnels, the cells with their "death-chambers," the hall of the God-Stone, the mortuary crypts, Elfride's body, Conrad's body, the skeletons of the sisters Archignat and, right at the end of the island, near the Fairies' Dolmen, where the prophecy of the thirty coffins³⁷ and the four crosses was written for all to read, Vorski's great body, lonely and pitiable, mangled³⁹ by the ravens⁴⁰ and owls⁴¹.
 
A villa⁴² near Arcachon, in the pretty village of Les Moulleaux, whose pine-trees run down to the shores of the gulf⁴³.
 
Véronique is sitting in the garden. A week's rest and happiness have restored the colour to her comely⁴⁴ face and assuaged⁴⁵ all evil memories. She is looking with a smile at her son, who, standing a little way off, is listening to and questioning Don Luis Perenna. She also looks at Stéphane; and their eyes meet gently.
 
It is easy to see that the affection in which they both hold the boy is a link which unites them closely and which is strengthened by their secret thoughts and their unuttered feelings. Not once has Stéphane recalled the avowals which he made in the cell, under the Black Heath; but Véronique has not forgotten them; and the profound gratitude⁴⁶ which she feels for the man who brought up her son is mingled⁴⁷ with a special emotion and an agitation⁴⁸ of which she unconsciously savours the charm.
 
That day, Don Luis, who, on the evening when the Crystal Stopper brought them all to the Villa des Moulleaux, had taken the train for Paris, arrived unexpectedly at lunch-time, accompanied by Patrice Belval; and during the hour that they have been sitting in their rocking-chairs in the garden, the boy, his face all pink with excitement, has never ceased to question his rescuer:
 
"And what did you do next? . . . But how did you know? . . . And what put you on the track of that?"
 
"My darling," says Véronique, "aren't you afraid of boring Don Luis?"
 
"No, madame," replies Don Luis, rising, going up to Véronique and speaking in such a way that the boy cannot hear, "no, François is not boring me; and in fact I like answering his questions. But I confess that he perplexes me a little and that I am afraid of saying something awkward. Tell me, how much exactly does he know of the whole story?"
 
"As much as I know myself, except Vorski's name, of course."
 
"But does he know the part which Vorski played?"
 
"Yes, but with certain differences. He thinks that Vorski is an escaped prisoner who picked up the legend of Sarek and, in order to get hold of the God-Stone, proceeded to carry out the prophecy touching⁴⁹ it. I have kept some of the lines of the prophecy from François."
 
"And the part played by Elfride? Her hatred⁵⁰ for you? The threats she made you?"
 
"Madwoman's talk, I told François, of which I myself did not understand the meaning."
 
Don Luis smiled:
 
"The explanation is a little arbitrary; and I have a notion that François quite well understands that certain parts of the tragedy remain and must remain obscure to him. The great thing, don't you think, is that he should not know that Vorski was his father?"
 
"He does not know and he never will."
"And then—and this is what I was coming to—what name will he bear himself?"
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"Whose son will he believe himself to be? For you know as well as I do that the legal reality is this, that François Vorski died fifteen years ago, drowned in a shipwreck⁵¹, and his grandfather with him. And Vorski died last year, stabbed by a fellow-prisoner. Neither of them is alive in the eyes of the law. So . . ."
 
Véronique nodded her head and smiled:
 
"So I don't know. The position seems to me, as you say, incapable⁵² of explanation. But everything will come out all right."
 
"Why?"
 
"Because you're here to do it."
 
It was his turn to smile:
 
"I can no longer take credit for the actions which I perform or the steps which I take. Everything is arranging itself a priori. Then why worry?"
 
"Am I not right to?"
 
"Yes," he said, gravely. "The woman who has suffered all that you have must not be subjected to the least additional annoyance⁵³. And nothing shall happen to her after this, I swear. So what I suggest to you is this: long ago, you married against your father's wish a very distant cousin, who died after leaving you a son, François. This son your father, to be revenged upon you, kidnapped and brought to Sarek. At your father's death, the name of d'Hergemont became extinct and there is nothing to recall the events of your marriage."
 
"But my name remains⁵⁴. Legally, in the official records, I am Véronique d'Hergemont."
 
"Your maiden⁵⁵ name disappears under your married name."
 
"You mean under that of Vorski."
 
"No, because you did not marry that fellow Vorski, but one of your cousins called . . ."
 
"Called what?"
 
"Jean Maroux. Here is a stamped certificate of your marriage to Jean Maroux, a marriage mentioned in your official records, as this other document shows."
 
Véronique looked at Don Luis in amazement⁵⁶:
 
"But why? Why that name?"
 
"Why? So that your son may be neither d'Hergemont, which would have recalled past events, nor Vorski, which would have recalled the name of a traitor⁵⁷. Here is his birth-certificate, as François Maroux."
 
She repeated, all blushing and confused:
 
"But why did you choose just that name?"
 
"It seemed easy for François. It's the name of Stéphane, with whom François will go on living for some time. We can say that Stéphane was a relation of your husband's; and this will explain the intimacy⁵⁸ generally. That is my plan. It presents, believe me, no possible danger. When one is confronted by an inexplicable and painful position like yours, one must needs employ special means and resort to drastic and, I admit, very illegal measures. I did so without scruple⁵⁹, because I have the good fortune to dispose of resources which are not within everybody's reach. Do you approve of what I have done?"
 
Véronique bent⁶⁰ her head:
 
"Yes," she said, "yes."
 
He half-rose from his seat:
 
"Besides," he added, "if there should be any drawbacks, the future will no doubt take upon itself the burden of removing them. It would be enough, for instance—there is no indiscretion, is there, in alluding⁶¹ to the feelings which Stéphane entertains for François' mother?—it would be enough if, one day or another, for reasons of common-sense, or reasons of gratitude, François' mother were moved to accept the homage⁶² of those feelings. How much simpler everything will be if François already bears the name of Maroux! How much more easily the past will be abolished, both for the outside world and for François, who will no longer be able to pry⁶³ into the secret of bygone events which there will be nothing to recall to memory. It seemed to me that these were rather weighty arguments. I am glad to see that you share my opinion."
 
Don Luis bowed to Véronique and, without insisting any further, without appearing to notice her confusion, turned to François and explained:
 
"I'm at your orders now, young man. And, since you don't want to leave anything unexplained, let's go back to the God-Stone and the scoundrel who coveted⁶⁴ its possession. Yes, the scoundrel," repeated Don Luis, seeing no reason not to speak of Vorski with absolute frankness, "and the most terrible scoundrel that I have ever met with, because he believed in his mission; in short, a sick-brained man, a lunatic . . ."
 
"Well, first of all," François observed, "what I don't understand is that you waited all night to capture him, when he and his accomplices⁶⁵ were sleeping under the Fairies' Dolmen."
 
"Well done, youngster," said Don Luis, laughing, "you have put your finger on a weak point! If I had acted as you suggest, the tragedy would have been finished twelve or fifteen hours earlier. But think, would you have been released? Would the scoundrel have spoken and revealed your hiding-place? I don't think so. To loosen his tongue I had to keep him simmering. I had to make him dizzy, to drive him mad with apprehension⁶⁶ and anguish⁶⁷ and to convince him by means of a mass of proofs, that he was irretrievably defeated. Otherwise he would have held his tongue and we might perhaps not have found you. . . . . Besides, at that time, my plan was not very clear, I did not quite know how to wind up; and it was not until much later that I thought not of submitting him to violent torture—I am incapable of that—but of tying him to that tree on which he wanted to let your mother die. So that, in my perplexity and hesitation⁶⁸, I simply yielded, in the end, to the wish—the rather puerile⁶⁹ wish, I blush to confess—to carry out the prophecy to the end, to see how the missionary⁷⁰ would behave in the presence of the ancient Druid, in short to amuse myself. After all, the adventure was so dark and gloomy that a little fun seemed to me essential. And I laughed like blazes. That was wrong. I admit it and I apologize."
 
The boy was laughing too. Don Luis, who was holding him between his knees, kissed him and asked:
 
"Do you forgive me?"
 
"Yes, on condition that you answer two more questions. The first is not important."
 
"Ask away."
 
"It's about the ring. Where did you get that ring which you put first on mother's finger and afterwards on Elfride's?"
 
"I made it that same night, in a few minutes, out of an old wedding-ring and some coloured stones."
 
"But the scoundrel recognized it as having belonged to his mother."
 
"He thought he recognized it; and he thought it because the ring was like the other."
 
"But how did you know that? And how did you learn the story?"
 
"From himself."
 
"You don't mean that?"
 
"Certainly I do! From words that escaped him while he was sleeping under the Fairies' Dolmen. A drunkard's nightmare. Bit by bit he told the whole story of his mother. Elfride knew............