Chapter 3, Part 2 of the Eight Strokes of the Clock. Prince Henning had listened in silence, but Duartance, as the story approached its conclusion, had given way to a hilarity, which she could no longer restrain, and suddenly, in spite of all her efforts, she burst into a fit of the wildest laughter.  "'Do forgive me. It's too much for my nerves.' "'Don't apologize, madam,' said a young man, gently, in a voice free from resentment. "'I warned you that my story was laughable. I, better than anyone, know how absurd, how nonsensical it is. Yes, the whole thing is perfectly grotesque. But believe me, when I tell you that it was no fun in reality. It seems a humorous situation, and it remains humorous by the force of circumstances. But it's also horrible. You can see that for yourself, can't you?' The two mothers, neither of whom have a certain of being a mother, but neither of whom was certain that she was not one, both clung to Jean-Louis. He might be a stranger. On the other hand, he might be their own flesh and blood. They loved him to excess, and fought for him furiously. And above all, they both came to hate each other with a deadly hatred. Deferring completely in character and education, and obliged to live together because neither was willing to forego the advantage of her possible maternity, they lived the life of irreconcilable enemies who can never lay their weapons aside. I grew up in the midst of this hatred, and had it instilled into me by both of them. When my childish heart, hungering for affection, inclined me to one of them, the other would seek to inspire me with loathing and contempt for her. In this manor house, which they bought on to the old doctor's death, and to which they added the two wings, I was the involuntary torturer and their daily victim. Turmented as a child, and as a young man, leading the most hideous of lives, I doubt if anyone on earth ever suffered more than I did. You ought to have left them, exclaimed Mortons, who had stopped laughing. One can't leave one's mother, and one of those two women was my mother, and a woman can't abandon her son, and each of them was entitled to believe that I was her son. We were all three chained together like conflicts, with chains of sorrow, compassion, doubt, and also of hope that the truth might one day become apparent. And here we still are, all three, insulting one another and blaming one another for our wasted lives.  And there was no escape in it. I tried, often enough, but in vain. The broken bonds became tight again. Only this summer, under the stimulus of my love for Genevieve, I tried to free myself, and did my utmost to persuade the two women whom I called mother. And then, and then, I was up against their complaints, their immediate hatred of the wife of the stranger whom I was proposing to force upon them. I gave way. What sort of a life would Genevieve have had here, between Madame de Blivole and Madame Voix? I had no right to victimize her. Jean-Louis, who had been gradually becoming excited, uttered these last words in a firm voice, as though he would have wished his conduct to be ascribed to conscientious motives and a sense of duty. In reality, as René des Nortins clearly saw, his was an unusually weak nature, incapable of reacting against a ridiculous position from which he had suffered ever since he was a child, in which he had come to look upon as final and irremedible. He endured it as a man bears a cross which he has no right to cast aside, and at the same time he was ashamed of it. He had never spoken of it to Genevieve, from dread of ridicule, and afterwards, on returning to his prison, he had remained there out of habit and weakness. He sat down to a writing-table, and quickly wrote a letter which he handed to René. Would you be kind enough to give this note to Mademoiselle Emma, and beg her once more to forgive me? René did not move, and when the other pressed the letter upon him, he took it and tore it up. What does this mean? asked the young man. It means that I will not charge myself with any message. Why? Because you are coming with us. I? Yes. You will see Mademoiselle Emma tomorrow, and ask for her hand in marriage. Jean-Louis looked at René with a rather disdainful ear, as though he were thinking, here's a man who has not understood the word of what I've been explaining to him. But Octence went up to René. Why do you say that? Because it will be, as I say. But you must have your reasons. One only, but it will be enough. Provided this gentleman is so kind as to help me in my inquiries. Anchories? With what object? asked the young man. With the object of proving that your story is not quite accurate. Jean-Louis took a marriage at this. I must ask you to believe, monsieur, that I have not said a word which is not the exact truth. I express myself badly, said René with great kindness. Certainly, you have not said a word that does not agree with what you believe to be the exact truth. But the truth is not, cannot be what you believe it to be. The young man folded his arms. In any case, monsieur, it seems likely that I should know the truth better than you do. Why better? What happened on that tragic night can obviously be known to you only at second hand? You have no proofs. Neither have Madame Dimblevall and Madame Vorois. No proofs of what? exclaimed Jean-Louis losing patience. No proofs of the confusion that took place. What? Why? It's an absolute certainty. The two children were laid in the same cradle, with no marks to distinguish one from the other, and the nurse was unable to tell, at least, that's her version of it, interrupted René. What's that? Her version? But you're accusing the woman. I'm accusing her of nothing. Yes, you are.  She had no interest in doing so, and her tears and despair are so much evidence of her good faith. Four, after all, the two mothers were there. They saw the woman weeping. They questioned her. Then, I repeat, what interest had she? Jean-Louis was greatly excited. Close beside him. Madame Dimblevall and Madame Vorois, who had no doubt been listening behind the doors, and who had selfily entered the room, stood stammering in amazement. No, no, it's impossible. We've questioned her over and over again. Why should she tell a lie? Speak, monsieur, speak. Jean-Louis enjoined. Explain yourself. Give your reasons for trying to cast doubt upon an absolute truth. Because that truth is inadmissible. He declared Henin raising his voice and growing excited in turn to the point of punctuating his remarks by thumping the table. No, things don't happen like that. No, faith does not display those refinements of cruelty, and chance is not added to chance with such reckless extravagance. It was already an unprecedented chance that, on the very night on which the doctor, his manservant and his maid were out of the house, the two ladies would be seized with labor pains at the same hour and should bring two sons into the world at the same time. Don't let us add a still more exceptional event. Enough of the uncanny.  No, and again no. It is not admissible that a midwife should become confused in the essential details of her trade. However bewildered she may be by the unforeseen nature of the circumstances, a remnant of instinct is still on the alert, so that there is a place prepared for each child and each is kept distinct from the other. The first child is here, the second is there. Even if they are lying side by side, one is on the left and the other on the right. Even if they are wrapped in the same kind of binders, some little detailed defers, a trifle which is recorded by the memory and which is inevitably recalled to the mind without any need of reflection. Confusion? I refuse to believe in it. Impossible to tell one from the other? It isn't true. In the world of fiction, yes. One can imagine all sorts of fantastic accidents and heap contradiction and contradiction. But in the world of reality, at the very heart of reality, there is always a fixed point, a solid nucleus, about which the facts group themselves in accordance with a logical order. I therefore declare, most positively, that Nurse Boussignol could not have mixed up the two children. All this, he said decisively, as though he had been present during the night in question, and so great was his power of persuasion, that from the very first he shook the certainty of those who, for more than a quarter of a century, had never doubted. The two women and their son pressed round him and questioned him with breathless anxiety. Then, you think that she may know, that she may be able to tell us? He corrected himself. I don't say yes, and I don't say no. All I say is that there was something in her behavior during those hours that does not tally with her statements and with reality. All the vast and intolerable mystery that has weighed down upon you, three, arises not from a momentary lack of attention, but from something of which we do not know, but of which she does. That is what I maintain, and that is what happened. Jean-Louis said in a husky voice, She's alive. She lives at Carre. We can send for her. Octance at once proposed. Would you like me to go for her? I will take the mutter and bring her back with me. Where does she live? In the middle of the town, at a little draper's shop, the chauffeur will show you. Mademoiselle Bousignan, everybody knows her. And whatever you do, I did tell you, don't warn her in any way. If she's uneasy so much, the better. But don't let her know what we want with her. Twenty minutes passed in absolute silence. Hennin paced the room, in which the fine old furniture, the handsome tapestries, the well-bound books, and pretty knickknacks denoted a love of art and a seeking after style in Jean-Louis. This room was really his. In the adjoining apartments on either side, through the open doors, Hennin was able to note the bad taste of the two mothers. He went up to Jean-Louis and in a low voice asked, Are they well off? Yes. And you? They settled the manor house upon me, with all the land around it, which makes me quite independent. Have they any relations? Sisters, both of them. With whom they could go to live? Yes. And they have sometimes thought of doing so. But there can be any question of that. Once more, I assure you. Meantime the car had returned. The two women jumped up hurriedly, ready to speak. Live it to me, said Hennin. And don't be surprised by anything that I say. It's not a matter of asking her questions, but of threatening her, of flurring her. The sudden attack, he added between his teeth. The car drove round the lawn and drew up outside the windows.  The old woman entered in a great state of alarm.  What's the matter, Madame de Blévol? She asked timidly, stepping into the room from which the doctor had once driven her. Good day to you, Madame Voix. The latest did not reply. Hennin came forward and said sternly, Mademoiselle Bousignol, I have been sent by the Paris police to throw light upon a tragedy which took place here, twenty-seven years ago. I have just secured evidence that you have distorted the truth, and that, as a result of your false declarations, the birth certificate of one of the children born in the course of that night is inaccurate. Now false declarations in matters of birth certificates are misdemeanors punishable by law. I shall therefore be obliged to take you to Paris to be interrogated, unless you are prepared here and now to confess everything that might repair the consequences of your offence. The old maid was shaken in every limb. Her teeth were chattering. She was evidently incapable of opposing the least resistance to Hennin. Are you ready to confess everything? Yes, yes, she panted. Without delay, I have to catch a train. The business must be settled immediately. If you show the least hesitation, I take you with me.  Yes, he pointed to Jean-Louis. Who's son is this gentleman? Madame de Blavals? No. Madame Vaux-Croix, therefore? No. A stupefied silence welcomed the two replies. Explain yourself, Hennin commanded, looking at his watch. Then Madame Boussignol fell on her knees and said, in so low and dull a voice, that they had to bend over her in order to catch the sense of what she was mumbling. Someone came in the evening, a gentleman with a newborn baby wrapped in blankets, which he wanted the doctor to look after. As the doctor wasn't there, he waited all night, and it was he who did it all. Did what, as Hennin? What did he do? What happened? Well, what happened was that it was not one child but the two of them that died. Madame de Blavals, Madame Vaux-Croix, too, both in convulsions. Then the gentleman, seeing this set, this shows me where my duty lies. I must seize this opportunity of making sure that my own boy shall be happy and well cared for, put him in the place of one of the dead children. He offered me a big sum of money, saying that this one payment would save him the expense of providing for his child every month. And I accepted. Only, I did not know in whose place to put him, and whether to say that the boy was Louis de Blavals or Jean Vaux-Croix. The gentleman thought a moment and said, neither, then he explained to me what I was to do and what I was to say after he had gone. And while I was dressing his boy in vests and binders, the same as one of the dead children, he wrapped the other in the blankets he had brought with him and went out into the night. Mademoiselle Bousignol bent her head and wept. After a moment, Hanine said, your deposition agrees with the result of my investigations. Can I go? Yes. And is it over, as far as I'm concerned? They won't be talking about this all over the district? No. Oh, just one more question. Do you know the man's name? No, he didn't tell me his name. Have you ever seen him since? Never. Have you anything more to say? No. Are you prepared to sign the written text of your confession? Yes. Very well. I shall send for you in a week or two, so then, not a word to anybody. He saw her to the door and closed it after her. When he returned, Jean-Louis was between the two old ladies and all three were holding hands. The bond of hatred and wretchedness which had bound them had suddenly snapped. And this rupture, without requiring them to reflect upon the matter, filled them with a gentle tranquillity of which they were hardly conscious, but which made them serious and thoughtful. Let's rush things, said Hanine to Hortense. This is the decisive moment of the battle. We must get Jean-Louis on board. Hortense seemed preoccupied. She whispered, why did you let the woman go? Were you satisfied with her statement? I don't need to be satisfied. She told us what happened. What more do you want? Nothing. I don't know. We'll talk about it later, my dear. For the moment, I repeat, we must get Jean-Louis on board. And immediately, otherwise, he turned to the young men. You agree with me, don't you, that things being as they are, it is best for you and Madame Vaurois and Madame Dimbleval to separate for a time? That will enable you all to see matters more clearly and to decide in perfect freedom what is to be done. Come with us, monsieur. The most pressing thing is to save Geneviève Eymard, your fiancée. Jean-Louis stood perplexed and undecided. Hanine turned to the two women. That is your opinion too, I am sure, ladies? They nodded. You see, monsieur, he said to Jean-Louis, we are all agreed. In great crisis, there is nothing like separation. A few days respite. Quickly now, monsieur. And without giving him time to hesitate, he drove him towards his bedroom to pack up. Half an hour later, Jean-Louis left the manor house with his new friends. And he won't go back until he is married, said Hanine to Hortense, as they were waiting at Cara station, to which the car had taken them while Jean-Louis was attending to his luggage. Everything is for the best. Are you satisfied? Yes, Geneviève will be glad, she replied absently. When they had taken their seats in the train, Hanine and she repaired to the dining car. Hanine, who had asked Hortense several questions, to which she had replied only in monosyllables, protested. What's the matter with you, my child? You look worried. I, no, not at all. Yes, yes, I know you. Now, no secrets, no mysteries. She smiled. Well, since you insist on knowing if I am satisfied, I am bound to admit that of course I am, as regards my friends Geneviève, that in another respect, from the point of view of the adventure, I have an uncomfortable sort of feeling. To speak frankly, I haven't staggered you this time, not very much. I seem to you to have played a secondary part, for after all, what have I done? We arrived, we listened to Jean-Louis' tale of woe, I had a midwife fetched, and that was all. Exactly. I want to know if that was all, and I'm not quite sure to tell you the truth. Are other adventures left behind them an impression which was how shall I put it more definite, clearer? And this one strikes you as obscure. Obscure, yes, and incomplete, but in what way? I don't know. Perhaps it has something to do with that woman's confession. Yes, very likely that's it. It was also unexpected and so short. Well, of course I cut it short, as you can readily imagine, said Henning laughing. We didn't want too many explanations. What do you mean? Why, if she had given her explanations with too much detail, we should have ended by doubting what she was telling us. By doubting it? Well, hang it all. The story is a trifle far-fetched. That fellow arriving at night with a live baby in his pocket, and going away with a dead one. The thing hardly holds water, but you see, my dear, I hadn't much time to coach the unfortunate woman in her part. Oh, then stared at him in amazement. What on earth do you mean? Well, you know how dull-witted these countrywomen are, and she and I had no time to spare. So we worked out a little scene in a hurry, and she really didn't act it so badly. It was all in the right key, terror, tremolo, tears. Is it possible, murmur and ortans, is it possible you had seen her beforehand? I had to, of course. But when? This morning, when we arrived, while you were titivating yourself at the hotel at Cahé, I was running round to see what information I could pick up. As you may imagine, everybody in the district knows the Dembevolvoreau story. I was at once directed to the former midwife, Mademoiselle Bousignol. With Mademoiselle Bousignol, it did not take long, three minutes to settle a new version of what had happened and 10,000 francs to induce her to repeat that. More or less credible version to the people at the manor house. A quite incredible version. Not so bad as all that, my child, seeing that you believed it, and the others, too. And that was the essential thing. What I had to do was to demolish at one blow a truth which had been 27 years in existence, and which was all the more firmly established because it was founded on actual facts. That was why I went for it with all my might and attacked it by sheer force of eloquence. Impossible to identify the children, I deny it. Inevitable confusion, it's not true. You're all three, I say, the victims of something which I don't know, but which it is your duty to clear up. That's easily done, says Jean-Louis. His conviction is at once shaken. Let's send for Mademoiselle Bousignol. Right, let's send for her. Whereupon Mademoiselle Bousignol arrives and mumbles out the little speech which I have taught her.  Orthans, sugarhead. But they'll get over it, all three of them, I'm thinking. Never, never, they will have their doubts, perhaps, but they will never consent to feel certain. They will never agree to think. Use your imagination. Here are three people whom I have rescued from the hell in which they have been floundering for a quarter of a century. Do you think they're going back to it? Here are three people who, from weakness or a false sense of duty, had not the courage to escape. Do you think that they won't cling like grim death to the liberty which I'm giving them? Nonsense. Wah, they would have swallowed the hopes twice as difficult to digest as that which Mademoiselle Bousignol dished up for them. After all, my version was no more absurd than the truth. On the contrary, and they swallowed it whole. Look at this, before we left, I heard Madame Demblavole and Madame Vaurois speak of an immediate removal. They were already becoming quite affectionate at the thought of seeing the last of each other. But what about Jean-Louis? Jean-Louis? Wah, he was fed up with his two mothers. By jingle, one can't do with two mothers in a lifetime. What a situation! And when one has the luck to be able to choose between having two mothers or none at all, why, bless me, one doesn't hesitate. And besides, Jean-Louis is in love with Genevieve. He left. And he loves her well enough, I hope, and trust not to inflict two mothers in law upon her. Calm. You may be easy in your mind. Your friend's happiness is assured. And that is all you ask for. All that matters is the object which we achieve, and not the more or less peculiar nature of the methods which we employ. And if some adventures are wound up and some mystery is elucidated, by looking forward and finding cigarette ends, or incendiary water bottles, and blazing hat boxes, as on our last expedition, others call for psychology, and for purely psychological solutions. I have spoken, and I charge you to be silent. Yes, there's a man and woman sitting behind us who seem to be saying something uncommonly interesting. But they're talking in whispers. Just so. When people talk in whispers, it's always about something shady. He lit a cigarette and sat back in his chair. Portans listened, but in vain. As for him, he was emitting little slow puffs of smoke. 15 minutes later, the train stopped, and the man and woman got out. Pity, said Henin, that I don't know their names or where they're going, but I know where to find them. My dear, we have a new adventure before us. Portans protested. Oh no, please not yet. Give me a little rest. An awkward way to think of Genevieve? He seemed greatly surprised. Why, all that's over and done with. Do you mean to say you want to waste any more time over that old story? Well, I, for my part, confess that I've lost all interest in the man with the two mamas. And this was said in such a comical tone, and with such diverting sincerity, that Portans was once more seized with a fit of giggling. Laughter alone was able to relax her exasperated nerves and to distract her from so many contradictory emotions. End of Chapter 3, Part 2. Chapter 4, Part 1 of the Eight Strokes of the Clock. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linny. The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Leblanc. Chapter 4, Part 1. The Telltale Film. Do look at the man who's playing the butler, said Serge Renin. What is there peculiar about him? Asked Portans. They were sitting in the balcony at a picture palace to which Portans had asked to be taken so that she might see on the screen the daughter of a lady, now dead, who used to give her piano lessons. Rosandré, a lovely girl with listen movements and a smiling face, was that evening figuring in a new film, The Happy Princess, which she lit up with her high spirits and her warm, glowing beauty. Renin made no direct reply, but during a pause in the performance continued. I sometimes console myself for an indifferent film by watching the subordinate characters. It seems to me that those poor devils who were made to rehearse certain scenes stand or twenty times over, must often be thinking of other things than their parts at the time of the final exposure. And it's great fun noting those little moments of distraction which reveal something of their temperament, of their instinct self. As for instance, in the case of that butler, look. The screen now show the luxurious served table. The happy princess sat at the head, surrounded by all her suitors. Half a dozen footmen moved about the room, under the orders of the butler, a big fellow with a dull, coarse face, a common appearance and a pair of enormous eyebrows which met across his forehead in a single line. He looks a brute, said Portans. But what you seen him, that's peculiar. Just note how he gazes at the princess and tell me if he doesn't stare at her oftener than he ought to. I really haven't noticed anything so far. Said Portans. Why, of course he does. Serge Rennin declared. It is quite obvious that in actual life he entertains for Gauss-André personal feelings which are quite out of place in a nameless servant. It is possible that in real life no one has any idea of such a thing. But on the screen when he's not watching himself or when he thinks that the actors at rehearsal cannot see him, his secret escapes him. Look, the man was standing still. It was the end of dinner.  Twice again they surprised in his face those strange expressions to which Rennin described an emotional meaning which Ortans refused to see. It's just his way of looking at people, she said. The first part of the film ended. There were two parts divided by an entree. The notice on the program stated that a year had elapsed and that the happy princess was living in a pretty Norman cottage all hung with creepers together with her husband, a poor musician. The princess was still happy as was evident on the screen, still as attractive as ever and still besieged by the greatest variety of suitors. Nobles and commoners, peasants and financiers, men of all kinds fell swooning at her feet. And prominent among them was a sort of borish solitary, a shaggy, half-wild woodcutter, whom she met whenever she went out for a walk. Armed with his axe, a formidable, crafty being, he prowled around the cottage and the spectators felt with a sense of dismay that a peril was hanging over the happy princess's head. Look at that, his retinine. Do you realize who the man of the woods is? No, simply the butler, the same actor is doubling the two parts. In fact, notwithstanding the new figure which he cut, the butler's movements and postures were apparent under the heavy gate and rounded shoulders of the woodcutter, even as under the unkempt beard and long, thick hair, the once clean shaven face was visible with the cruel expression and the bushy line of the eyebrows. The princess in the background was seen to emerge from the hatched cottage. The man hid himself behind the clump of trees. From time to time, the screen displayed on an enormously enlarged scale his fiercely rolling eyes or his murderous hands with their huge thumbs. The man frightens me, said Ortans. He's really terrifying. Because he's acting on his own account, said Renim. You must understand that in the space of three or four months that appears to separate the dates at which the two films were made, his passion has made progress. And to him, it is not the princess who is coming, but Rosandré. The man crouched low. The victim approached gaily and unsuspectingly. She passed, heard a sound, stopped and looked about her with a smiling ear which became attentive, then uneasy and there more and more anxious. The woodcutter had pushed aside the branches and was coming through the cobs.  He opened his arms as though to seat her. She tried to scream to call out for help, but the arms closed around her before she could offer the slightest resistance. Then he threw her over his shoulder and began to run. Are you satisfied, whispered Renim? Do you think that his fourth-rate actor would have had all that strength and energy if it had been any other woman than Rosandré? Meanwhile, the woodcutter was crossing the skirt of a forest and plunging through great trees and masses of rocks. After setting the princess down, he cleared the entrance to a cave which the daylight entered by a slanting crevice. A succession of views displayed the husband's despair, the search and the discovery of some small branches which had been broken by the princess and which show the path that had been taken. Then came the final scene, with the terrible struggle between the man and the woman when the woman, vanquished and exhausted, is flung to the ground, the sudden arrival of the husband and the shock that puts an end to the brute's life. Well, said Renim, when they had left the picture palace and he spoke with a certain gravity, I maintain that the daughter of your old piano teacher has been in danger ever since the day when that last scene was filmed. I maintain that this scene represents not so much an assault by the men of the woods on the happy princess as a violent and frantic attack by an actor on the woman he desires. Certainly it all happened within the bounds prescribed by the part and nobody saw anything in it. Nobody except perhaps Hosentai herself. But I, for my part, have detected flashes of passion which leave not a doubt in my mind. I have some glances that betrayed the wish and even the intention to commit murder. I have seen clenched hands, ready to strangle. In short, a score of details which proved to me that, at that time, the man's instinct was urging him to kill the woman who could never be his. And it all amounts to what? We must protect Hosentai if she is still in danger and if it is not too late. And to do this, we must get hold of further information from him. From the World Cinema Company, which made the film, I will go to them tomorrow morning. Will you wait for me in your flat about lunchtime? At heart, Hortense was still skeptical. All these manifestations of passion, of which she denied neither the ardour nor the ferocity, seemed to her to be the rational behavior of a good actor. She had seen nothing of the terrible tragedy which I mean contended that he had divine. And she wondered whether he was not erring through an excess of imagination. Well, she asked, next day, not without a touch of irony. How far have you got? Have you made a good bag? Anything mysterious? Anything thrilling? Pretty good. Oh, really? And your so-called lover? Is Juan Dalprec, originally a scene painter who played the butler in the first part of the film and the Man of the Woods in the second. And was so much appreciated that they engaged him for a new film. Consequently, he has been acting lately. He was acting near Paris. But on the morning of Friday, the 18th of September, he broke into the garage of the World Cinema Company and made off with a magnificent card and 40,000 francs in money. Information was lodged with the police. And on the Sunday, the car was found, a little way outside Dreux. And up to now, the angry has revealed two things which will appear in the papers tomorrow. First, Dalprec is alleged to have committed a murder which created a great stir last year. The murder of Bourguet, the jeweler. Secondly, on the day after his two robberies, Dalprec was driving through Le Havre in a motor car with two men who helped him to carry off in broad daylight and in a crowded street, a lady whose identity has not yet been discovered. Rosandré? Esportant's une asli. I have just been to Rosandré's. The World Cinema Company gave me her address. Rosandré spent this summer traveling and then stayed for a fortnight in the Seine Inferieur where she has a small place of her own, the actual cottage in the Happy Princes. On receiving an invitation from America to do a film there, she came back to Paris, registered her luggage at the Garse-Lazar and left on Friday, the 18th of September, intending to sleep at Le Havre and take Saturday's boat. Friday, the 18th, mother d'Orthans, the same day in which that man... And it was on the Saturday that a woman was carried off by him at Le Havre. I looked in at the Compagnie Transatlantique and a brief investigation showed that Rosandré had booked a cabin but that the cabin remained unoccupied. The passenger did not turn up. This is frightful. She has been carried off. You were right. I fear so. What have you decided to do? Adolphe, my chauffeur, is outside with the car. Let us go to Le Havre. Up to the present, Rosandré's disappearance does not seem to have become known. Before it does, and before the police identify the woman carried off by Daubrek, with the woman who did not turn up to claim her cabin, you will get on Rosandré's track. There was not much said on the journey. At four o'clock, Orthans and Hénine reach Rouen. But here, Hénine changed his road. Adolphe, take the left bank of the same. He unfolded a motoring map on his knees. And tracing the route with his finger showed Orthans that if you draw a line from Le Havre, or rather from Killebeuuf, where the road crosses the scene, to Dreux, where the stolen car was found, this line passes through Routot, a market town line west of the forest of Protonne. Now, it was in the forest of Protonne, he continued, according to what I heard, that the second part of The Happy Princess was filmed. And the question that arises is this. Having got hold of Rosandré, would it not occur to Daubrek, when passing near the forest on the Saturday night, to hide his prey there, while his two accomplices went on to Dreux, and from there returned to Paris? The cave was quite near. Was he not bound to go to it? How should he do otherwise? Wasn't it while running to this cave a few months ago, that he held in his arms against his breast, within reach of his lips, the woman whom he loved, and whom he was now conquered? By every rule of fate and logic, the adventure is being repeated all over again, but this time in reality. Rosandré is a captive. There's no hope of rescue. The forest is vast and lonely. That night, or on one of the following nights, Rosandré must surrender, or die. Orthans gave a shudder. We shall be too late. Besides, you don't suppose that he's keeping her prisoner? Certainly not. The place I have in mind is at a crossroads, and is not a safe retreat, but we may discover some clue or other. The shades of night were falling from the tall trees, when they entered the ancient forest of Proton, full of Roman remains and medieval relics. Hanin knew the forest well, and remembered that near a famous oak, known as the wine cask, there was a cave, which must be the cave of the happy princess. He found it easily, switched on his electric torch, rummaged in the dark corners, and brought Orthans back to the entrance. There's nothing inside, he said. But here is the evidence which I was looking for. Daubreg was obsessed by the recollection of the film, but so was Rosentret. The happy princess had broken off the tips of the branches on the way through the forest. Rosentret has managed to break off some to the right of this opening, in the hope that she would be discovered, as on the first occasion. Yes, it's Adorthans. It's a proof that she has been there, but the proof is three weeks old, since that time. Since that time, she's either dead and buried under a heap of leaves, or else alive in some hole even lonelier than this. If so, where is he? Hennin pricked up his ears. Repeated blows of the axe were sounding from some distance, no doubt coming from a part of the forest that was being cleared. He? Sa Hennin. I wonder whether he may not have continued to behave under the influence of the film, and whether the man of the woods in the happy princess has not quite naturally resumed his calling. For how is the man to live, to obtain his food, without attracting attention? He will have found a job. We can't make sure of that. We might, by questioning the woodcutters whom we can hear. The cart took them by a forest road to another crossroads, where they entered on foot, a track which was deeply rooted by wagon wheels. The sound of access seized. After walking for a quarter of an hour, they met a dozen men who, having finished work for the day, were returning to the villages nearby. Will this path take us to Houto? Ask Hennin in order to open a conversation with them. No, you're turning your backs on it, said one of the men, griffly. And he went on, accompanied by his mates. Ortan and Hennin stood rooted to the spot. They had recognized the putler. His cheeks and chin were shaved, but his upper lip was covered by a black moustache, evidently dyed. The eyebrows no longer met and were reduced to normal dimensions. End of Chapter 4, Part 1 Thus, in less than twenty hours, acting on the vague hints supplied by the bearing of a film actor, Ser Shrinin had touched the very heart of the tragedy by means of purely psychological arguments. Hosentres alive, he said. Otherwise, Daubrech would have left the country. The poor thing must be imprisoned and bound up. And he takes her some food at night. We will save him, won't we? Certainly, by keeping a watch on him, and, if necessary, but in the last resort, compelling him by force to give up his secret. They follow the woodcutter at a distance and, on the pretext that the car needed overhauling, engaged rooms in the principal inn at Hutu. Attached to the inn was a small café from which they were separated by the entrance to the yard and above which were two rooms reached by a wooden outer staircase at one side. Daubrech occupied one of these rooms and Rynin took the other for his chauffeur. Next morning he learned from Adolf that Daubrech, on the previous evening, after all the lights were out, had carried down a bicycle from his room and mounted it, and had not returned until shortly before sunrise. The bicycle tracks led Rynin to the uninhabited Château des Londres, five miles from the village. They disappeared in a rocky path which ran beside the park down to the Seine, opposite the Jumiège Peninsula. Next night he took up his position there. At eleven o'clock Daubrech climbed the bank, scrambled over a wire fence, hid his bicycle under the branches, and moved away. It seemed impossible to follow him in the pitchy darkness, on a mossy soil that muffled the sound of footsteps. Rynin did not make the attempt, but at daybreak he came with his chauffeur and hunted through the park all the morning. Though the park, which covered the side of a hill and was bounded below by the river, was not very large, he found no clue which gave him any reason to suppose that Rosentret was imprisoned there. He therefore went back to the village with the firm intention of taking action that evening and employing force. This state of things cannot go on, he said to Wartens, I must rescue Rosentret at all costs and save her from the drifthians' clutches. He must be made to speak, he must. Otherwise there's a danger that we may be too late. That day was Sunday and Daubrech did not go to work. He did not leave his room except for lunch and went upstairs again immediately afterwards. But at three o'clock, Hynin and Ochtans, who were keeping a watch on him from the inn, saw him come down the wooden staircase with his bicycle on his shoulder. Leaning it against the bottom step, he inflated the tires and fastened to the handlebar a rather bulky object wrapped in a newspaper. By Jove, muttered Hynin, what's the matter? In front of the café was a small terrace, bordered on the right and left by spindle trees planted in boxes, which were connected by a pawling. Behind the shrubs, sitting on a bank but stooping forward so that they could see Daubrech through the branches, were four men. Police, said Hynin, what bad luck! If those fellows take a hand, they will spoil everything. Why? On the contrary, I should have thought, yes they will. They will put Daubrech out of the way. And then, will that give us Rosendret? Daubrech had finished his preparations. Just as he was mounting his bicycle, the detectives rose in a body, ready to make a dash for him. But Daubrech, though quite unconscious of their presence, changed his mind and went back to his room as though he had forgotten something. Now's the time, said Hynin. I'm going to risk it. But it's a difficult situation, and I have no great hopes. He went out into the yard, and at a moment when the detectives were not looking, ran up the staircase, as was only natural if he wished to give an order to his chauffeur. But he had no sooner reached the rustic balcony at the back of the house, which gave admission to the two bedrooms than he stopped. Daubrech's door was open. Hynin walked in. Daubrech stepped back, at once assuming the defensive. What do you want? Who said you could? Silence, whispered Hynin, with an imperious gesture. It's all up with you. What are you talking about? Grilled the man angrily. Lean out of your window. There are four men below on the watch for you to leave, four detectives. Daubrech leaned over the terrace and muttered an oath. On the watch for me, he said, turning round, what do I care? They have a warrant. He folded his arms.  A warrant? What's that to me? Listen, said Hynin, and let us waste no time. It's urgent. Your name's Daubrech, or at least, that's the name under which you acted in The Happy Princess, and under which the police are looking for you as being the murderer of Borgé, the jeweler, the man who stole a motor car and 40,000 francs from the World Cinema Company, and the man who abducted a woman at Les Havres. All this is known and proved. And here's the upshot. Four men downstairs, myself here, my chauffeur in the next room, you're done for. Do you want me to save you? Daubrech gave his adversary a long look. Who are you? A friend of Rosendres, said Hynin. The other started, and, to some extent, dropping his mask retorted. What are your conditions? Rosendres, whom you have abducted and tormented, is dying in some hole or corner. Where is she? A strange thing occurred, and impressed Hynin. Daubrech's face, usually so common, was slid up by a smile that made it almost attractive. But this was only a flashing vision. The man immediately resumed his hard and impassive expression. And suppose I refuse to speak, he said.  I dare say, but it means the death of Rosendres, who will release her. You, you will speak now, or in an hour, or two hours hence at least. You will never have the heart to keep silent and let her die. Daubrech shrugged his shoulders.  What then? Then save me. We will meet this evening at the entrance to the Park de Londres, and say what we have to say. Why not at once? I have spoken. Will you be there? I shall be there. Hynin reflected. There was something in all this that he failed to grasp. In any case, the frightful danger that threatened Rosendres dominated the whole situation. And Hynin was not the man to despise this threat and to persist out of vanity in a perilous course. Rosendres' life came before everything. His truck several blows on the wall of the next bedroom and called his chauffeur. Adolf, is the car ready? Yes, sir. Set her going and pull her up in front of the terrace outside the café, right against the boxes so as to block the exit. As for you, he continued, addressing d'Aubraig, you're to jump on your machine and, instead of making off along the road, cross the yard. At the end of the yard is a passage leading into a lane. There you will be free, but no hesitation and no blundering, else you'll get yourself nabbed. Good luck to you. He waited till the car was drawn up in accordance with his instructions. And when he reached it, he began to question his chauffeur in order to attract the detective's attention. One of them, however, having cast a glance through the spindle-trees, got sight of d'Aubraig, just as he reached the bottom of the staircase. He gave the alarm and darted forward, followed by his comrades, but had to run round the car and bumped into the chauffeur, which gave d'Aubraig time to mount his bicycle and cross the yard, unimpeded. He thus had some second start. Unfortunately for him, as he was about to enter the passage at the back, a troop of boys and girls appeared, returning from Vespers. On hearing the shout of the detectives, they spread their arms in front of the fugitive who gave two or three lurches and ended by falling. Cries of triumph were raised. Lay hold of him, stop him, roared the detectives as they rushed forward. Hainin, seeing that the game was up, ran after the others and called out, stop him. He came up with them, just as d'Aubraig, after regaining his feet, knocked one of the policemen down and leveled his revolver. Hainin snatched it out of his hands, but the two other detectives, startled, had also produced their weapons. They fired. d'Aubraig, hit in the leg and the chest, pitched forward and fell. Thank you, sir, said the inspector to Hainin, introducing himself. We owe a lot to you. It seems to me that you've done for the fellow, said Hainin. Who is he? One d'Aubraig, a scoundrel for whom we were looking. Hainin was beside himself. Orthans had joined him by this time, and he growled. The silly fools, now they've killed him. Oh, it isn't possible.  How are we to trace her? And what chance have we of finding the place, some inaccessible retreat, where the poor thing is dying of misery and starvation? The detectives and peasants had moved away, bearing d'Aubraig with them on an improvised stretcher. Hainin, who had at first followed them in order to find out what was going to happen, changed his mind and was now standing with his eyes fixed on the ground. The fall of the bicycle had unfastened the parcel which d'Aubraig had tied to the handlebar. And the newspaper had burst, revealing its contents, a tin saucepan, rusty, dented, battered, and useless. What's the meaning of this, he muttered. What was the idea? He picked it up, examined it. Then he gave a grin and a click of the tongue and chuckled slowly. Don't move an eyelash, my dear. Let all these people clear off. All this is no business of ours, is it? The troubles of all this don't concern us. We are two motorists traveling for our pleasure and collecting old saucepans if we feel so inclined. He called his chauffeur. Adolphe, take us to the parc de l'onde by a roundabout road. Half an hour later they reached the sunken track and began to scramble down it on foot beside the wooded slopes.  Reynin stepped into the boat and at once began to bail out the puddles with his saucepan. He then drew the boat alongside of the jetty, helped Ortan's inn, and used the one oar which he slipped in a gap in the stern to work her into midstream. I believe I'm there, he said with a laugh. The worst that can happen to us is to get our feet wet for our craft leaks a trifle. But haven't we a saucepan? Oh, blessings on that useful utensil. Almost as soon as I set eyes upon it, I remembered that people used those articles to bail out the bottoms of leaky boats. Why? There was bound to be a boat in the London Woods. How was it I never thought of that? But of course, Delphe made use of her to cross the Sain and as she made water, he brought a saucepan. Then, Rosandré asked Ortan's, is a prisoner on the other bank on the Jumiège Peninsula? You see the famous Abbey from here. They ran aground on a beach of big pebbles covered with slime. And it can't be very far away, he added. Delphe did not spend the whole night running about. A towpath followed the deserted bank. Another path led away from it. They chose the second, and passing between orchards enclosed by hedges came to a landscape that seemed strangely familiar to them. Where had they seen that pole before with the willows overhanging it? And where had they seen that abandoned hovel? Suddenly, both of them stopped with one accord. Oh, said Ortan's, I can hardly believe my eyes. Opposite them was the white gate of a large orchard at the back of which, among groups of old, gnarled apple trees, appeared a cottage with blue shutters, the cottage of the happy princess. Of course, cried Fennin, and I ought to have known it, considering that the film showed both this cottage and the forest close by. And isn't everything happening exactly as in the happy princess? Isn't Delprac dominated by the memory of it? The house, which is certainly the one in which Rosentres spent the summer, was empty. He has shut her up there. But the house, you told me, was in the Seine Infernière. Well, so are we. To the left of the river, the Eure and the forest of Bretonne. To the right, the Seine Infernière. But between them is the obstacle of the river, which is why I didn't connect the two. The 150 yards of water form a more effective division than dozens of miles. The gate was locked. They got through the hedge a little lower down and walked towards the house, which was screened on one side by an old wall, shaggy with ivy and roofed with fetch. It seems as if there was somebody there, c'est d'Orton's, didn't I hear the sound of a window? Listen. Someone struck a few chords on a piano. Then a voice arose, a woman's voice, softly and solemnly singing a ballad that thrilled with restrained passion. The woman's whole soul seemed to breathe itself into the melodious tones. They walked on. The wall concealed them from view, but they saw a sitting room furnished with bright wallpaper and a blue Roman carpet. The throbbing voice ceased. The piano ended with a last chord and the singer rose and appeared framed in the window. Hosandre, whispered Orton's. Well, said Hennin, admitting his astonishment. This is the last thing that I expected. Hosandre, Hosandre, at liberty and singing Massenet in the sitting room of her cottage. What does it all mean?  Yes, but it has taken me long enough. But how could we have guessed? Although they had never seen her except on the screen, they had not the least doubt that this was she. It was really Hosandre, or rather the happy princess, whom they had admired a few days before amidst the furniture of that very sitting room or on the threshold of that very cottage. She was wearing the same dress. Her hair was done in the same way. She had on the same bangles and necklaces as in the happy princess. And her lovely face, with its rosy cheeks and laughing eyes, bore the same look of joy and serenity. Some salmons have caught her ear, for she leaned over towards a clump of shrubs beside the cottage and whispered into the silent garden. Josh, Josh, is that you, my darling? Receiving no reply, she drew herself up and stood smiling at the happy thoughts that seemed to flood her being. But a door opened at the back of the room, and an old peasant woman entered with a tray laden with bread, butter, and milk. Here, Rose, my pretty one, I've brought you your supper, milk fresh from the cow. And putting down the tray, she continued. Aren't you afraid, Rose, of the chill of the night air? Perhaps you're expecting your sweetheart? I haven't the sweetheart, my dear old Catherine. What next, said the old woman, laughing, only this morning there were footprints under the window that didn't look at all proper. A burglar's footprints, perhaps, Catherine. Well, I don't say they weren't, Rose dear, especially as, in your calling, you have a lot of people around you whom it's well to be careful of. For instance, your friend d'Aupréguin, nice goings on his arm. You saw the paper yesterday. A fellow who has robbed and murdered people and carried off a woman at L'Havre. Orthans and Hainin would have much like to know what Rosenthré thought of the revelations, but she had turned her back to them and was sitting at her supper, and the window was now closed so that they could neither hear her reply nor see the expression of her features. They waited for a moment. Orthans was listening with an anxious face. But Hainin began to laugh. Very funny, really funny, and such an unexpected ending. And we, who were hunting for her in some cave or damn cellar, a horrible tomb where the poor thing was dying of hunger. It's a fact. She knew the terrors of that first night of captivity, and I maintain that on that first night she was flung half dead into the cave. Only there you are, the next morning she was alive.  For, see the difference, on the films or in novels, the happy princesses resist or commit suicide.  Yes, c'est Orthans, but the man she loves is almost certainly dead. And a good thing, too. It would be the best solution. What would be the outcome of this criminal love for a thief and murderer? A few minutes passed. Then, amid the peaceful silence of the waning day, mingled with the first shadows of the twilight, they again heard the grating of the window, which was cautiously opened. José André leaned over the garden and waited, with her eyes turned to the wall, as though she saw something there. Presently Hénine shook the ivy branches. Ha, she said. This time I know you're there. Yes, the ivy's moving. Georges, Georges, darling, why do you keep me waiting? Catherine has gone. I'm all alone. She had knelt down, and was distractedly stretching out her shapely arms, covered with bangles which clashed with a metallic sound. Georges, Georges. Her every movement, the thrill of her voice, her whole being expressed desire and love. Orthans, deeply touched, could not help saying, How the poor thing loves him, as she but knew.  Here I am, Georges. She climbed over the window ledge and began to run, while Hénine went round the wall and advanced to meet her.  Hénine bowed, gave his name, and introduced his companion. Madame Orthans-Daniel, a pupil and friend of your mother's. Still motionless with stupefaction, her features drawn, she stammered. You know who I am? And you were there just now? You heard what I was saying? Hénine, without hesitating or pausing in his speech, said, You are Rosendré, the happy princess. We saw you on the films the other evening, and circumstances led us to set out in search of you, Jules Havre, where you were abducted on the day when you were to have left for America, and to the forest of Breton, where you were imprisoned. She protested eagerly with a forced laugh. What is all this? I have not been Jules Havre. I came straight here. Abducted? Imprisoned? What nonsense? Yes, imprisoned in the same cave as the happy princess, and you broke off some branches to the right of the cave. But how absurd! Who would have abducted me? I have no enemy. There's a man in love with you, the one whom you were expecting just now. Yes, my lover? She said proudly. Have I not the right to receive whom I like? You have the right. You are a free agent, but the man who comes to see you every evening is wanted by the police. His name is Georges D'Auprec. He killed Bourguet, the jeweler. The accusation made her start with indignation, and she exclaimed, it's a lie, an infamous fabrication of the newspapers. Georges was in Paris on the night of the murder. He can prove it. He stole a motor-car in 40,000 francs in notes. She retorted vehemently. The motor-car was taken back by his friends, and the notes will be restored. He never touched them. My living for America had made him lose his head. Very well. I am quite willing to believe everything that you say, but the police may show less faith in these statements and less indulgence. She became suddenly uneasy and faltered. The police. There's nothing to fear from them. They won't know. Where to find him? I succeeded at all events. He's working as a woodcutter in the forest of Portonne. Yes, but you. That was an accident. Whereas the police. The words left her lips with the greatest difficulty. Her voice was trembling, and suddenly she rushed at Chénie in stammering. He's arrested. I'm sure of it, and you have come to tell me. Arrested. Wounded. Dad, perhaps. Oh, please, please. She had no strength left. All her pride, all the certainty of her great love, gave way to an immense despair, and she sobbed out. No, he's not Dad, is he? No, I feel that he's not Dad. Oh, sir, how unjust it all is. He's the gentlest man, the best that ever lived. He has changed my whole life. Everything is different since I began to love him, and I love him so. I love him. I want to go to him, take me to him. I want them to arrest me, too. I love him. I could not live without him. An impulse of sympathy made Orthans put her arms around the girl's neck, and say warmly, Yes, come. He's not Dad. I'm sure. Only wounded. And Prince Chéniein will save him.  Come. Make up a story for your servant. Say that you're going somewhere by train, and that she's not to tell anybody. Be quick. Put on a wrap. We will save him. I swear we will. Rosentrer went indoors, and returned almost at once, the skies beyond recognition, in the long cloak and a veil that shrouded her face, and they all took the road back to Houto. At the inn, Rosentrer passed as a friend whom they had been to fetch in the neighborhood and were taking to Paris with them. Chéniein ran out to make enquiries and came back to the two women. It's all right, thou prikes alive. They have put him to bed in a private room at the mayor's offices. He has a broken leg, and a rather high temperature, but all the same they expect to move him to Rouen tomorrow, and they have telephoned there for a motor-car. And then, asked Rosentrer anxiously, Chéniein smiled, Why, then we shall leave at daybreak. We shall take up our positions in a sunken road, rifle in hand, attack the motor-coach, and carry off Georges. Oh, don't laugh, she said plaintively, I'm so unhappy. But the adventure seemed to amuse Chéniein, and when he was alone with Hortense, he exclaimed, You see what comes of preferring dishonor to death. But hang it all, who could have expected this? It isn't a bit the way in which things happen in the pictures. Once the man of the woods had carried off his victim, and considering that for three weeks there was no one to defend her, how could we imagine, we, who had been proceeding all along under the influence of the pictures, that in the space of a few hours the victim would become a princess in love? Confound that Georges, I now understand the sly, humorous look which I surprised on his mobile features. He remembered, Georges did, and he didn't care a hang for me. Oh, he tricked me nicely.  And it was all the influence of the film. They show us at the cinema a brute beast, a sort of long-haired, ape-faced savage. How can a man like that be in real life? A brute, inevitably. Don't you agree? Well, he's nothing of the kind. He's a don-hoi, the humbug.  Are you very anxious that I should? Very. In that case, promise to give me your hand to kiss. You can have both hands, Reynine, and gladly. The night was uneventful. Reynine had given orders for the two ladies to be waked at an early hour. When they came down, the martyr was leaving the yard and pulling up in front of the inn. It was raining. An adult, the chauffeur, had fixed up the long low-hood and packed the luggage inside. Reynine called for his bill. They all three took a cup of coffee. But just as they were leaving the room, one of the inspectors' men came rushing in. Have you seen him? He asked. Isn't he here? The inspector himself arrived at the run, greatly excited. The prisoner escaped. He ran back through the inn. He can't be far away. A dozen rustics appeared like a whirlwind. They ransacked the lofts, the stables, the sheds. They scattered over the neighborhood. But the search led to no discovery. Oh, hang it all, said Reynine, who had taken his part in the hunt. How can it have happened? How do I know, spluttered the inspector in despair. I left my three men watching in the next room. I found them this morning, fast asleep, stupefied by some narcotic which had been mixed with their wine, and that the alpaca bird had flown. Which way? Through the window. There were evidently accomplices, with ropes and a ladder. And as the alpaca had a broken leg, they carried him off on the stretcher itself. They left no traces? No traces of footsteps? True. The rain has messed everything up. But they went through the yard, because the stretcher's there. You'll find him, Mr. Inspector. There's no doubt of that. In any case, you may be sure that you won't have any trouble over the affair. I shall be in Paris this evening, and shall go straight to the prefecture, where I have influential friends. Reynine went back to the two women in the coffee-room, and Orteens at once said, It was you who carried him off, wasn't it? Please put Rosenthal's mind at rest. She's so terrified. He gave Rosenthal his arm, and led her to the car. She was staggering, and very pale. And she said, in a faint voice, Are we going? And he? Is he safe? Won't they catch him again? Looking deep into her eyes, he said, Swear to me, Rosenthal, that in two months, when he is well, and when I have proved his innocence, swear that you will go away with him to America. I swear. And that once there you will marry him. I swear. He spoke a few words in her ear. Ha! she said. May heaven bless you for it. Orteens took her seat in front, with Reynine, who sat at the wheel. The inspector, head in hand, fussed around the car until it moved off. They drove through the forest, crossed the Seine, at La Mayerre, and struck in the Havre-Houen road.  You promised that you would. Oh! said Orteens. But it was to be when Daubrek was saved. He is saved. Not yet. The police are after him. They may catch him again. He will not be really saved until he is with Hosenthal. He is with Hosenthal. He declared. What do you mean? Turn round. She did so. In the shadow of the hood, right at the back, behind the chauffeur, Hosenthal was kneeling, beside a man lying on the seat. Oh! stemmer Dorthens, it's incredible!  Lord, yes, he was there, under the cushions and rugs. It's incredible, she repeated, utterly bewildered. It's incredible! How were you able to manage it all?  She removed her glove, as he baited her, and raised her hand to his lips. The car was speeding between the peaceful Sain and the white cliffs that border it. They sat silent for a long while. Then he said, I had a talk with Daubrek last night. He's a fine fellow, and is ready to do anything for Hosenthal. He's right, a man must do anything for the woman he loves. He must devote himself to her, offer her all that is beautiful in this world, joy and happiness. And if she should be bored, stirring adventures to distract her, to excite her, and to make her smile, or even weep, or dance shivered, and her eyes were not quite free from tears. For the first time he was alluding to the sentimental adventure that bound them by a tie, which as yet was frail, but which became stronger and more enduring with each of the ventures on which they entered together, pursuing them feverishly and anxiously to their clothes. Ready she felt powerless and uneasy with this extraordinary man, who subjected events to his will, and seemed to play with the destinies of those whom he fought or protected. He filled her with dread, and at the same time he attracted her. She thought of him sometimes as her master, sometimes as an enemy against whom she must defend herself, but oftenest as a perturbing friend, full of charm and fascination. End of Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Part 1 of the Eight Strokes of the Clock. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Eight Strokes of the Clock by Maurice Leblanc. Chapter 5, Part 1, Thérèse and Germaine. The weather was so mild at autumn that, on the 12th of October in the morning, several families still lingering in their villas at Etreta had gone down to the beach. The sea, lying between the cliffs and the clouds on the horizon, might have suggested the mountain lakes slumbering in the hollow of the enclosing rocks, were it not for that crispness in the air and those pale, soft and indefinite colors in the sky which give a special charm to certain days and Normandy. It's delicious, murmured Ortans. But the next moment she added, all the same, we did not come here to enjoy the spectacle of nature, or to wonder whether that huge stone needle on our left was really at one time the home of Arsène Lupin. We came here, said Prince Rénine, because of the conversation which I overheard a fortnight ago in a dining-car between a man and a woman, a conversation of which I was unable to catch a single word. If those two people could have guessed for an instant that it was possible to hear a single word of what they were saying, they would not have spoken, for their conversation was one of extraordinary gravity and importance. But I have very sharp ears, and though I could not follow every sentence, I insist that we may be certain of two things. First, that man and woman, who are brother and sister, have an appointment at a quarter to twelve this morning, the twelfth of October, at the spot known as the Tois Matilde, with the third person, who is married, and who wishes at all costs to recover his or her liberty. Secondly, this appointment, at which they will come to a final agreement, is to be followed this evening by a walk along the cliffs, when the third person will bring with him or her the man or woman, I can't definitely say which, whom they want to get rid of. That is the gist of the whole thing. Now, as I know a spot called the Tois Matilde, some way above Etreta, and as this is not an everyday name, we came down yesterday to thwart the plan of these objectionable persons. What plan, asked Lortens, for, after all, it's only your assumption that there's to be a victim, and that the victim is to be flung off the top of the cliffs.  That is so. But I heard some very plain words relating to the marriage of the brother or the sister, with the wife or the husband of the third person, which implies the need for a crime. They were sitting on the terrace of the casino, facing the stairs which run down to the beach. They therefore overlooked the few privately owned cabins on the shingle, where a party of four men were playing bridge, while a group of ladies sat talking and knitting. A short distance away, a nearer to the sea, was another cabin, standing by itself and closed. Half a dozen bare-legged children were paddling in the water. No, Zadortens, all this autumnal sweetness and charm fails to attract me. I have so much faith in all your theories, that I can't help thinking, in spite of everything, of this dreadful problem. Which of these people younger is threatened? Death has already selected its victim. Who is it? Is it that young, fair-haired woman rocking herself and laughing? Is it that tall man over there smoking his cigar? And which of them has the thought of murder hidden in his heart? All the people we see are quietly enjoying themselves. Yet death is prowling among them. Capital, said Renine, you too are becoming enthusiastic. What did I tell you? The whole of life's an adventure. Nothing but adventure is worthwhile.  You share in all the tragedies stirring around you, and the feeling of mystery awakens in the depths of your being. See, how closely you are observing that couple who have just arrived. You never can tell. That may be the gentleman who proposes to do away with his wife. Or perhaps the lady contemplates making away with her husband. The Dormeval? Never. A perfectly happy couple. Yesterday, at the hotel, I had a long talk with the wife, and you yourself. Oh, I played a round of golf with Jacques Dormeval, who rather fancies himself as an athlete. And I played at dolls with their two charming little girls. The Dormeval came up, and exchanged a few words with them.  Her husband, a great tall fellow with a yellow beard, carrying his blazer over his arm and puffing out his chest under a cellular shirt, complained of the heat. Have you the key of the cabin, Therese? He asked his wife, when they had left Renine and Hortense, and stopped at the top of the stairs a few yards away. Here it is, said the wife. Are you going to read your papers? Yes, unless we go for a stroll. I had read her way till the afternoon. Do you mind? I have a lot of letters to write this morning. Very well. We'll go on the cliff. Hortense and Renine exchanged a glance of surprise. Was this suggestion accidental? Or had they before them, contrary to their expectations, the very couple of whom they were in search? Hortense tried to laugh. My heart is thumping, she said. Nevertheless, I absolutely refuse to believe in anything so improbable. My husband and I have never had the slightest quarrel, she said to me. No, it's quite clear that those two get on admirably. We shall see presently at the Trois Matilde, if one of them comes to meet the brother and sister. Messier Dormeval had gunned down the stairs, while his wife stood leaning on the ballast trade of the terrace. She had a beautiful, slender, supple figure. Her clear-cut profile was emphasized by a rather true prominent chin when at rest, and, when it was not smiling, the face gave an expression of sadness and suffering. Have you lost something, Jacques? She called out to her husband, who was stooping over the shingle. Yes, the key, he said, it slipped out of my hand. She went down to him, and began to look also. For two or three minutes, as they sheared off to the right and remained close to the bottom of the undercliff, they were invisible to Hortense and Reynine. Their voices were covered by the noise of a dispute which had arisen among the bridge-players. They reappeared almost simultaneously. Madame Dormeval slowly climbed a few steps of the stairs, and then stopped and turned her face towards the sea. Her husband had thrown his blazer over his shoulders, and was making for the isolated cabin. As he passed the bridge-players, they asked him for a decision, pointing to their cards spread out upon the table. But with a way of the hand, he refused to give an opinion, and walked on, covered the thirty yards which divided them from the cabin, opened the door, and went in. Thérèse Dormeval came back to the terrace, and remained for ten minutes sitting on a bench. Then she came out through the casino. Hortense, on leaning forward, saw her entering one of the chalets next to the Hotel Hauville, and a moment later cut sight of her again on the balcony. 11 o'clock, said Reynine. Whoever it is, he or she, or one of the card-players, or one of their wives, it won't be long before someone goes to the appointed place. Nevertheless, twenty minutes passed, and twenty-five, and no one stirred. Perhaps Madame Dormeval has gone? Hortense suggested anxiously. She's no longer on her balcony. If she is at the Trois Matilde, said Reynine, we will go and catch her there. He was rising to his feet, when a fresh discussion broke out among the bridge-players, and one of them exclaimed, let's put it to Dormeval. Very well, said his adversary. I'll accept his decision, if he consents to act as empire. He was rather huffy just now. They called out, Dormeval, Dormeval. They then saw that Dormeval must have shut the door behind him, which kept him in the half-dark, the cabin being one of the sword that has no window. He's asleep, cried one. Let's wake him up. All four went to the cabin, began by calling to him, and, on receiving no answer, thumped on the door. Hi, Dormeval, are you asleep? On the terrace, Sergeanine suddenly leapt to his feet, with so uneasy an air, that Hortense was astonished. He muttered, if only it's not too late. And when Hortense asked him what he meant, he tore down the steps and started running to the cabin. He reached it just as the bridge-players were trying to break in the door. Stop, he ordered. Things must be done in the regular fashion. What things, they asked. He examined the Venetian shutters at the top of each of the folding doors, and, on finding that one of the upper slats was partly broken, hung on as best as he could to the roof of the cabin, and cast a glance inside. Then he sat to the four men. I was right in thinking that, if Messier Dormeval did not reply, he must have been prevented by some serious cause. There's every reason to believe that Messier Dormeval is wounded, or dead. Dead, they cried. What do you mean? He has only just left us. Hrenin took out his knife, prized open the lock, and pulled back the two doors. There were shouts of dismay.  Blood was flowing from his back and staining his shirt. Oh, said someone, he has killed himself. How can he have killed himself, said Hrenin? The wound is right in the middle of the back, at a place which the hand can't reach. And besides, there's not a knife in the cabin. The others protested. If so, he has been murdered. But that's impossible. There has been nobody here. We should have seen if there had been. Nobody could have passed us without our seeing. The other men, all the ladies and the children paddling the sea, had come running up. Hrenin allowed no one to enter the cabin, except a doctor who was present. But the doctor could only say that Messier Dormeval was dead, stabbed with a dagger. At that moment, the mayor and the police men arrived, together with some people of the village. After the usual anguaries, they carried away the body. A few persons went on ahead to break the news to Therese Dormeval, who was once more to be seen on her balcony. And so the tragedy had taken place without any clue to explain how a man, protected by a closed door with an uninjured lock, could have been murdered in the space of a few minutes, and in front of twenty witnesses, one might almost say twenty spectators. No one had entered the cabin. No one had come out of it. As for the dagger, with which Messier Dormeval had been stabbed between the shoulders, it could not be traced. And all this would have suggested the idea of a trick, of a slate of hand, performed by a clever conjurer, had it not concerned a terrible murder, committed under the most mysterious conditions. Orthans was unable to follow, as Hennin would have liked, the small party who were making for Madame Dormeval. She was paralyzed with excitement, and incapable of moving. It was the first time that her adventures with Hennin had taken her into the very heart of the action, and that, instead of noting the consequences of a murder, or assisting in the pursuit of the criminals, she found herself confronted with the murder itself. It left her trembling all over, and she stammered. How horrible! The poor fellow! Ah, Hennin, you couldn't save him this time. And that's what upsets me more than anything, that we could and should have saved him, since we knew of the plot. Hennin made her sniff at a bottle of salts, and when she had quite recovered her composure, he said, while observing her attentively. So you think that there is some connection between the murder and the plot, which we were trying to frustrate? Certainly, said she, astonished at the question. Then, as that plot was hatched by a husband against his wife, or by a wife against her husband, you would admit that Madame Dormeval, oh, no, impossible, she said. To begin with, Madame Dormeval did not leave her rooms. And then I shall never believe that pretty woman capable. No, no, of course, there was something else. What else? I don't know. You may have misunderstood what the brother and sister were saying to each other. You see, the murder has been committed under quite different conditions at another hour and another place. And therefore, concluded Hennin, the two cases are not in any way related. Oh, she said, there's no making it out. It's also strange. Hennin became a little satirical. My pupil is doing me no credit today, he said. Why? Here is a perfectly simple story, unfolded before your eyes. You have seen it reeled off like a scene in the cinema, and it all remains as obscure to you as though you were hearing of an affair that happened in a cave a hundred miles away. Orthans was confounded. What are you saying? Do you mean that you have understood it? What clues have you to go by? Hennin looked at his watch. I have not understood everything, he said. The murder itself? The mere brittle murder? Yes. But the essential thing, that is to say, the psychology of the crime, I have no clue to that. Only it is 12 o'clock. The brother and sister, seeing no one come to the appointment at the Tuama Tild, will go down to the beach. Don't you think that we shall learn something then of the accomplice whom I accused them of having, and of the connection between the two cases? They reached the Esplanade in front of the Oville Chalet, with the capstones by which the fishermen haul up their boats to the beach. A number of inquisitive persons were standing outside the door of one of the chalets. Two coast guards posted at the door, prevented them from entering. The mayor shouldered his way eagerly through the crowd. He was back from the post office, where he had been telephoned into Le Havre, to the office of the procurator general, and had been told that the public prosecutor and an examining magistrate would come on to Etreta in the course of the afternoon. "'That leaves us plenty of time for lunch,' said Renine. "'The tragedy will not be enacted before two or three o'clock, and I have an idea that it will be sensational.' They hurried, nevertheless. Orteens, overwrought by fatigue and her desire to know what was happening, continually questioned Renine, who replied evasively, with his eyes turned to the Esplanade, which they could see through the windows of the coffee-room. "'Are you watching for those two?' asked Orteens. "'Yes, the brother and sister. Are you sure that they will venture? Look out! Here they come!' He went out quickly. Where the main street opened on the sea-front, a lady and gentleman were advancing with hesitating steps, as though unfamiliar with the place. The brother was a puny little man, with a shallow complexion. He was wearing a motoring cap. The sister, too, was short, but rather stout, and was wrapped in a large cloak. She struck them as a woman of a certain age, but still good-looking, under the thin veil that covered her face. They saw the two groups of bystanders and drew nearer. Their gait betrayed uneasiness and hesitation. The sister asked a question of a seaman. At the first words of his answer, which no doubt conveyed the news of Dormeval's death, she uttered a cry and tried to force her way through the crowd. The brother, learning in his turn what had happened, made great play with his elbows and shouted to the coast-guards. "'I'm a friend of Dormeval's. Here's my card. Frédéric Asteing, my sister Germaine Asteing, knows Madame Dormeval intimately. They were expecting us. We had an appointment.' They were allowed to pass. Menin, who had slipped behind them, followed them in without a word, accompanied by urtans. The Dormeval had four bedrooms and a sitting-brim on the second floor. The sister rushed into one of the rooms and threw herself on her knees beside the bed, on which the corpse lay stretched. The rest Dormeval was in the sitting-brim, and was sobbing in the midst of a small company of silent persons. The brother sat down beside her, eagerly seated her hands and sat in a trembling voice. "'My poor friend, my poor friend!' Renine and Ortans gazed at the pair of them. And Ortans whispered, "'And she's supposed to have killed him for that? Impossible!' "'Nevertheless,' observed Renine, "'they are acquaintances. And we know that Asteing and her sister were also acquainted with a third person who was her accomplice. So that, it's impossible,' Ortans repeated. And in spite of all presumption, she felt so much attracted by Therese that, when Frédéric Asteing stood up, she proceeded straightway to sit down beside her and consoled her in a gentle voice. The unhappy woman's tears distressed her profoundly. Renine, on the other hand, applied himself from the outset to watching the brother and sister, as though this were the only thing that mattered, and did not take his eyes of Frédéric Asteing, who, with an air of indifference, began to make a minute inspection of the premises, examining the sitting-room, going into all the bedrooms, mingling with the various groups of persons present, and asking questions about the manner in which the murder had been committed. Twice his sister came up and spoke to him.  Lastly, in the lobby, he had a long conversation with his sister, after which they parted, like people who have come to a perfect understanding. Frédéric then left. These maneuvers had lasted quite thirty or forty minutes.


What's going on, everyone? Sam here with late sports cards from 23 Bowman Baseball Jumbo, 8-box case spree, number 28, Picker team style. Read off a list of our names and our teams. Got Alex M. with the Cardinals, Alexandros Redsox, Brennan R. Phillies, Charles N. Reds Yanks, Charles D. with the Athletics, Cody B. Braves, Daniel L. Astros, Edward P. with the Nationals, Eric R. Orioles, Harry V. Diamondbacks, John W. with the Rangers, or Han W. Hewissung C. with the Royals, Jacob P. Tigers, James S. Brewers, Jason C. with the Angels, Jed B. Giants, got Jeffrey H. with the Cubs, Rays, Dodgers, Marlins, and Mariners. Jing L. Metz, Joshua B. Pirates, Judson C. with the Guardians, Kellen L. White Sox Padres, Kirk L. Blue Jays, Robert F. with the Twins, and Steven G. with the Rockies. Good luck here, guys. Let's do it. Bowman Jumbo. Bowman Jumbo, 2023. Bowman Jumbo. Here we go. Okay, no paper is going to ship out of this. Just be all your chrome. Anything that's chrome, basically, will ship, as well as numbered paper will ship as well. But no base paper will be shipped. Off we go. Paper. First hit is going to be Colin P. Loose. That is base auto for the A's. Here we go, athletics, base auto, Colin P. Loose. Paper. Chrome. Kenny Gomez, two, two fifty. Purple Raywave for the Astros. This one there. C. Hearn on the back as well. That was all sorts of messed up here. Paper base. There's a blaper. Sanchez, Wilbur Sanchez. Right in this pack right here, right? This is going to be a Super Fracturado of Alex Ramirez. That is a nice card, though. It is. Nice. An atomic. Two one hundred. There you go, Mets. That is a really nice card, though. That'll work. Three of a hundred. Rats on that. I'll even come back in. Yeah, start doing that. Start doing that. Every, every pack just leave and come back in. Base, Mejia, Arroyo, Montecino, Josh Young, Mejia, James Wood, Dylan O. O. O. O. Ray, auto first. Base auto is going to be Kyler, auto is going to be Kyler Fedko. That is a blue lunar crater for the twins. Two, one, five. I'm telling you guys, twins are slept on for sure. Twins are a slept on team in these breaks. They do hit very well. Marcelo Zachnito. There's Jefferson Rojas, Lunar Glow, Cubs. Oh, and Fijiye. Oh, in real life. IRL. How'd you do? Just break down. Just absolute breakdown. Absolute meltdown. It's going to be all paper right there in the front. There's a Christian Serda, 2199, Pink Lunar Crater, or Fuchsia Lunar Crater, I should say, for the D-backs. Andy Pajas. It's Spencer Jones base. First base for the Yanks, Spencer Jones. And guys, still eight to go last time I checked on Bowman. A bunch of orders came in, other contenders tiered spots, couple teams in revolution, no huddle, and more no huddles. So yeah, still eight to go. Yeah? Want to come in? I've been dying. Literally, physically ill from breaking so much Bowman. Luzaro Montez. Edward now. Guys, eight to go. All teams are on sale for Bowman as well. Eight to go. Breaking next. Base, base. Rosa, Almanze, Randy DeJesus, Lisa Garcia. You guys want to work with Sean? Huh? Sean's watching Looney Tunes. Yeah, he is. Exactly. Nice. There's a blue pattern. Blake to 125. Blake. Blake. A blue blaper. Blatter. Blue blaper.  Bleep, warp, bleep, warp, bleeper. All right. And chrome on the box, too. That's pirates. Paper. Clay and Machia. More paper. Brock Jones. Blaper. Blaper. It's going to be a future paper, Bryce Harper. Two, two, ninety-nine for the fills. We've got Dominic Kenzoni. That is nice. Gold to 50 for the Diamondbacks. Grats on that. Ed Arizona. Gold to 50. Kenzoni. And Collier paper. Yafari Solano. Blue Sherman to 150. That's Myroshendic Martinez. Nice one there for the Dodgers on the first base auto. Myroshendic. There's Collier first. Nelson Rada. Like that one. No. Seven to go. Seven to go. Thank you, guys. Oswald Paraza for the inks. Kevin Parada to 399. Green paper. Machia. Arroyo. Jackson Holiday Base. There's a blaper and base. There's a Blom. Drew Jones first. Chrome for the old Diamondbacks. Paper. Some chrome inserts. Some more paper. Jordan Waller. Elijah Green. It's like a pure paper right there on the front. Lunar, I don't know, not Lunar Glow. That is Aqua Lunar Crater to 125. 25% Rojas. 25% Rojas. That's when you were doing the impression and you were like... Who's that? The same person as Shirtz. Jorge Burgos or Burgos that is refracted to 499 for the Guardians. Jorge Burgos. Remember? Yes. It's like unlocked a memory about that. It's literally. It's literally. It's a scary part. Yeah, literally. Josue DePaola first. There's Lunar Glow. It's Mar Johnson. The Pirates. And Menzardo. All right. That is box number two of Bowman Jumbo, done and over with. And guys, still got another one coming up after. Angel's gone. Padre's gone. And Bluejays and Philly's gone. So we're down to like three spots to go in that or something like that. Something, something kind of wild here, Sean. Don't got a lot of spots left now. Got to fill up Dynasty after as well. Dynasty is what we're looking to fill up after. That is random left side serial numbers. Ten spots. If you pull a card that matches the serial number that you hit in the, thank you, Callum. Down to four to go. That is a Leovaproguero. Refractor, Rookie Otto to 499 for the Pirates. That's one there at Buckoves. Oosh, Aunton Trouble. Space. Fraley and Carnassione. Ney, the Honor Fernandez. So thank you guys for knocking that one down to four. Teams are on sale as well. There's a Joey Votto Sky Blue Paper 499 for the Reds. Otto, oh, come on, baby. Give us some color. We got a Drew Jones. That is a base Otto. Drew Jones. Going out to the Diamondbacks. There you go, Harry. Congrats, buddy. Nice one there. Drew Jones. Very nice. We'll take it. We'll take it. I'll have Sean. Once Sean's back in here, Harry, I'll have him microfiber that one for you as well. Deveson De Los Santos. There's a Gold, Edward Julian, to 50. Nice one there for the Twins. One of the last teams taken. That's on that Twins, on the base. There's Sky Blue Paper. Cole Young to 499. Jacob Berry first. I'm going to have you with the Jones, just microfiber it, and then mag it. Okay. Everything else though, after that's good. Buero is just like in the recap as well. Would you mind before, as well, just organizing them by color? Matt Merv, the swerve. That's Matt Mervus' name, that's Matt Mervus' name, too. That's terrible, too. At least it works, yeah. Luis Lara. Serda Anthony Buero. That's a good box so far for sure. Good box for show. There's base Vargas and Tamar. Zala's, there's a Cam Collier, Roman Anthony, Colson Montgomery. Just have, I believe, one more auto in this box if I'm not mistaken. There's Ellie, De La Cruz. You could toss it in, yeah. That's actually a pretty decent name for a non-auto paper. Khalil Watson to 125 on the Lunar Crater. Teal Lunar Crater for the Marlins. That's one there at Miami. We've got Brett Beatty. Ooh, nice. On the yellow to 75. Rookie Auto for the Met. Scrat's on that there at New York. Brett Beatty. Juni Caminero. Chevy Caminero. That's Forex. That's Forex.  It's a grown man. Ordering grilled cheese. Yeah. Who does that? There's Lunar Glow of Khalil Watson. And Holiday. All right, we're going to go on to box number four. Let me drop you guys a link again really quick to the next break. Sam A taking two in Contender's Tier. Astro is now gone as well. Together Met, we are down to the Red Sox Twins and Rangers. Red Sox Twins and Rangers. So thank you guys again for knocking that down. Five spots have come in in the first three boxes of this case. So I appreciate that. Awesome. That is awesome. Three to go on those. Very nice, very nice. Toby. That was left-handed though. Sure. That was left-handed. Purple paper. Vinny Pasquantino to 250 for the Royals. Just got a haircut. You're feeling fresh, Higley. Let's go, dude. Let's go. Marrow Saber, Isaac to 250. Purple Ray Wave for the Reds. I mean it for the Rays. What's up? Yeah. Pajas. Rayland Bisha, Nito. That's a neat O, Nito.  Yeah, I got them. They're dirty, too. Got your stinky drawers. Yeah. Couple skids. Got the Stetson Bennett Bay. There you go. Oh, look at you. There you go, Higley. Georgia Bulldog pride right there. So we've got a white speckle coming up. It's going to be Moises Baez Theros. Nice one there for the Cubs, too. 2.99. White speckle first auto. That's Cubs, Miguel Vargas, and base. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Chill paper. Purple paper, Axl Sanchez first to 250. Mariners, Wilbur Sanchez. There's a nice Cam Collier. Come on, baby. That is purple. Cam Collier to 250. There we go, Reds. Picking up a Drew Jones in the last break, and now a Cam Collier in this one. Let's go, dude. Congrats on that. Fantastic. Fantastic hit right there. There you go, Reds.  Why would you do that? Lizarro Montez refractor to Mar to 4.99 as well for the Pirates. Again, guys, just Red Sox twins Rangers. Three to go in the next one. Three, two, go. In the next break. Spencer Jones first. Luis Alora. There's Andrew Taylor on the base auto for the Astros. Andrew Taylor. Jordan Walker. I'll buy the chrome there. Chase the Lauder. William Carnassian. There's Henry Davis. Lunar glow. And base. All right, box number four. Done and done. And guys, still just three to go in the next one. Let's get that filled on up. Oh, I know each other right here tonight. I need to put them both in time out. Two school girls. Base and base. Take a berry first. Base. Two chromes on the back there, okay. Something coming up here. It's gonna be a pink paper. Jordan Diaz rookie to 175 for the A's. And nice. That is gonna be atomic. Jacob Berry to 100. Let's go Marlins. Heck yeah, dude. I'm pretty sure that Jeffrey H. has the Marlins and the Reds, which is pretty big right there. So congrats on that there, Jeffrey. If I am correct, we got a green grass coming up here as well. That is Hector Rodriguez. 299 green grass. GG on the green grass. There's a Manuel Peltre. That is base auto for the Blue Jays. Well, well, well. Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh no. Oh no. There he is. Everybody hide. Everybody hide. The Manny, the Miss. Oh yeah. Nice. Edward Julian. That is 2. 299 speckle auto for the Twins. That's on that missile. Bye Lane. Bye Forest. I'm trying, dude. Yup. Atame Kuma rocker to 150 on the Bowman scouts. Thank you, sir. Marino. Thank you. Blue paper. Glider Figurio to 150. James Hood. Jackson Cheerio. Clearly a little Watson as well. Pulling a Manuel while Manuel shows up. Yeah, there you go, Manny. Been well. Been no complaints, honestly. I have to say, Manny. Been well. Been well. Yeah. Been well, Manuel. Been well. Lurad. Different Lurad. Oswald. Oh god, you need to tell. Yeah. As do we all. As do we all. There's Invicta Dion Jorge. That's when they need the Feds rated Riffy out of 5 from just regular Daunras, I'm assuming. Colas Hernandez. Yellow Daniel Susak to 75. Or out of, oh from clearly. Gotcha. You have the entire Rainbows on if you just get the out of 5. 3 to go, guys. Still breaking next is Bowman. Drew Jones. The Keddo. Nelson Rada. Space out of 5 in the 1-1. Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha, gotcha. There's Miguel Blase on the Lunar Glow in base. Team. First off the line. Some people counted, some people don't. I would do the true ones first before you go after the first off the line, Manny, to be 100% honest. Nice. Couple mixer spots coming in as well. Beautiful. And guys, still got to sell out the next Bowman break. Still got to sell out the next Bowman break. And Ronda Dynasty. Piedolanzo to 3.99. Green paper. Wilbur Sanchez. Lava to 3.99 for the White Sox. Son of a checklist, but it exists. Have you physically seen one, Manny? Like on eBay or somewhere? Really in Sedania. Yeah, there we go. Kellen with the Wilbur. Goes away to Apollo. Oh, it's out of 18 you've got. Oh, okay. Yeah, you're good. What's up, Alvin? How you doing, buddy? Oh, man. Just need to... It just, it just, it just needs to, just, just 24-7 monitoring. Los Andros Rodriguez. Purple to 250. Nice one there for the Royals. What's up? Come on, honestly. Appreciate that, Alvin. Appreciate that. Lunar Glow, chase the water. Chase the water. That's not bad. Tigers with three numbered autos. It's not terrible at all. It's not bad at all, Manny. Not bad at all. Ambiors Tavares. Space auto for the Brapes. That's one there. Atlanta. ATL picking one up. Klu Watson to 4.99, refractor. Holding, freezing along. Bowman Scouts top 100. Yay. Oh yeah, Lunatomic. Not bad, honestly. Vaughn Grissom. Yoffrey Salon. Huh? Sorry to get me a general salad, fried rice, however it comes. That's Brandon Walter. Speckle auto to 2.99 for the Red Sox. There you go, Red Sox. That's one there on the speckle. Zach Veen. I suppose so. TSO. Blake. These are Crayola. Mejia. Oroel. Simon Juan. Daniel Rodriguez. Aqua to 125 for the Twins. Bowman Scouts top 100. Green Paper. Luisa and Hella Cunha. 2, 3.99. Montez. Drew Jones first. Vecchetto. Nelson. Rada. That's good, dude. That's funny. I don't care what you say. It's hilarious. I've been taking a couple spots in the mixer later on tonight. And guys, still 3 to go. All teams on sale. All teams on sale. Myroshendrick. Martinez to 1.99 on the Fuchsia Lunar Creator. The Dodgers. Burr to 1.99, Elijah Green. That's the Blake Face. Maron Boyd. Merv the Swerve. Matt Mervus. Bass first. Tamar. Something needs to be handled, though. Leandro Rux. Refractor, first auto for the Orioles to 4.99. What's up? He comes to life once, man. You go swayed to Paula? Yeah. And there's a full moon. Junior Kaminaria. Swagner, Colson Montgomery. Yoffrey Sawant. Jay Dom. Lunar Glow, Freylae Encarnacio. The Red Sox. Also got Dynasty coming up after again, guys. Random left side serial number. Two full cases of it. Gonna be a good time. Gotta get Bowman filled up, obviously, before we move on to that. But there is Dynasty. There's Damon Keith to 1.50, Blue Lunar Creator. Nice one there for the Dodgers on the color match. Down to two to go on the next Bowman, the final Bowman break of the day. Thank you, guys. Thank you, guys. Appreciate that. There's Joshua Baez to 1.99. Fuchsia Chrome for the Cardinals. And Sameel De La Rosa. Bass auto. First for the Cardinals. Nice, Sameel. Kam Collier, first base. Carons. Serda Paguerra. Base, base, base. What's up, Andrew? Drew. Helly. Jayce Young. Ropes Lee. Justin Crawford, Chrome first. Rep 80. Then Susak. Last pack of Box 7. And we're on to 8 in Final. Again, just two teams left in the next break, everybody. Corbin Carroll. Two teams to go. That is it. This is a PYT of another full case of Bowman. And then we're on to filling up some Dynasty. You got two full cases of Dynasty. I'm in 7 to go on those. Let's get those filled on up. No huddle spots coming in. More honors, mixer spots coming in. Rangers are gone. Thank you, there, Andrew P. Appreciate that. Yes, sir, Mercedes. Got Huyuli. Or Huyuli. That is 2.499 on the refractor. It's not how Huyuli. It's how Huyuli. It's not about how Huyuli. It's about how Huyuli. It's a 4.99 for the Phillies. There's Luis Garcia. Blue. True blue to 150. True blue, blue. Nice one there, Blue Jays. Luis Garcia, Riley Green. There's Juno Kimonaro. Move everything in my collection that isn't baseball or giants. Buy more pick your teams and singles. There we go. That's what I like to see. It's not a bad idea, honestly, Manny. Especially if you want to just go through a refresh of your collection too. Junio Garcia, Lunar Glow. I'll do that every now and then. I'll move stuff that I collect for myself. Just to get new stuff. Elijah Green. Samuel Zavala. Justin Crawford first. Got way too much. Feel that, dude. Got so much stuff. It's wild. All paper there. Four hay. Purple, one Alonzo to 250. Twins, only team left is the Minnesota Twins. Looking for some, what's his name? The gold guy. Edward Huyulian. That's who it is. I couldn't think of it for a second. Edward Huyulian is their big chase. He's actually slowly made his way up further and further to some of the most desired prospects in this entire product. So definitely a good chase if you're interested in picking up the twins. Then we're on to some Dynasty. You got to fill up Dynasty as well, everybody. Dynasty, random left side serial number. Corbin Carroll. Pink Paper. Kumar Rocker to 175 for the Rangers. Luis Lara. Matt Merv, the swerve. Matt Mervis. Khalil and Edgar Quero. There's Braille and Bishop. That is base auto. Base Braille and nice one there. Pirates, Joshua with the pirates. Braille and Bishop. Susak, Speckle, Lazaro Montes. The 299, nice one there, Mariners. Lazaro Montes on the Speckle. Very nice. Take that all day long. Love picking up parallels of some of the top names that may not be autoed. A little bit more affordable in that sense as well. Still sell very well. Mar-Johnson. Place, Arroyo, Chase Young. That's back, everybody. Good luck. Take a berry first. Borgoya, or Borgoya. Devisandelo Santos. Still a quick recap here, everybody. That'll do it for the break. Appreciate it again. See what we've got. Base autos. Braille and Bishop. Samuel de la Rosa. Ambiore Stavarez. Manuel Beltre. Andrew Taylor. Myroschendric. Martinez. Collin Palouse. Refractor is how you lead. These are all to $4.99. Liorandro Aries. Jorge Bergeos. Liora Baguero. Got Speckles to $2.99. That is Brandon Walter. Edward Julio. Moises Paisteros. To $2.50. Lozandro Rodriguez. Blues now to $1.50. Luis Garcia. Damon Keith. Tyler Fedko. Yellow to $75. Brett Beatty. Gold, Dominic Kenzone. And Edward Julio in base. Debal Auto at Bibb Silver Bar. That's pretty solid, honestly. That'd be a good little pickup for you there. Drew Jones. Base. Nice one there. We had Jacob Barry Atomic to $100 for the Marlins. We had Alex Ramirez to $100 for the Mets. And then a Purple Cam Collier to $2.50. Going out to the Reds. Very nice. That'll do it for the break, guys. Thanks again for the fill. Next up, we've got number 29, just the 20.