The Crystal Stopper [28]
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.
"Cry, my pet, cry," said Lupin. "It'll do you good to cry."
The child did not cry, but the voice was so gentle and so kind that
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.
"Cry, my pet, cry," said Lupin. "It'll do you good to cry."
The child did not cry, but the voice was so gentle and so kind that