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"Do you know what has happened to Doucet with those grapes? His eldest son is dead, poisoned. Do you understand now why we are anxious to know what has become of my grapes?" "But they ought to be out there on the table," said Michael. "No one can find them anywhere," declared Matrena, who, no less than Rouletabille, watched every change in the countenances of the two officers.
Rouletabille grabbed her arm and as she turned on him angrily she observed Natacha, who, leaning until she almost fell over the balcony, her lips trembling with delirious utterance, followed as well as she could the progress of the struggle, trying to understand what happened below, under the trees, near the Neva, where the tumult by now extended. Matrena Petrovna pulled her back by the arms.
"I obeyed you; I only sat a half-hour by the window looking over here at the villa, and then I went to bed." "Yes, it is necessary you should get your rest. I wish it for you as for everyone else. This feverish life is impossible. Matrena Petrovna is getting us all ill, and we shall be prostrated." "Yesterday," said Boris, "I looked at the villa for a half-hour from my window.
These notes of Rouletabille's are not followed by any commentary. After luncheon the gentlemen played poker until half-past four, which is the "chic" hour for the promenade to the head of the island. Rouletabille had directed Matrena to start exactly at a quarter to five. He appeared in the meantime, announcing that he had just interviewed the mayor of St.
"Well, we will commence now by sending all these police away." Matrena Petrovna grasped his hand, astounded. "Surely you don't think of doing such a thing as that!" "Yes. We must know where the blow is coming from. You have four different groups of people around here the police, the domestics, your friends, your family. Get rid of the police first.
Rouletabille was so occupied by thought of the conversation he was going to have with Natacha that he had completely forgotten the excellent Monsieur Gounsovski and his invitation. The reporter found Koupriane's agents making a close-linked chain around the grounds and each watching the other. Matrena had not wished any agent to be in house. He showed Koupriane's pass and entered.
Matrena had hardly finished her cry, "There is the one who has saved you," before Natacha cried in her turn, facing the reporter with a look full of the most frightful hate, "There is the one who has been the death of an innocent man!" She turned to her father.
Thus appeared as he slept the excellent Feodor Feodorovitch, the easy, spoiled father of the family table, the friend of the advocate celebrated for his feats with knife and fork and of the bantering timber-merchant and amiable bear-hunter, the joyous Thaddeus and Athanase; Feodor, the faithful spouse of Matrena Petrovna and the adored papa of Natacha, a brave man who was so unfortunate as to have nights of cruel sleeplessness or dreams more frightful still.
And then, those whom the reporter half expected to see flee, distracted, one way and another, or to throw themselves madly from the height of the steps, abandoning Feodor and Matrena, gathered themselves instead by a spontaneous movement around the general, like a guard of honor, in battle, around the flag. Koupriane marched ahead.
Then Matrena pointed her finger at Natacha's chamber. "You have not gone in there?" she inquired. He replied, "It is not necessary to enter there." "I will enter there, myself, nevertheless," said she, and she set her teeth. He barred her way with his arms spread out. "If you hold the life of someone dear," said he, "don't go a step farther." "But the person is in that chamber.
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