Anarchistbanjo's World

Madame Bluebeard by Karl Hans Strobl and translated by Joe E Bandel

Eighteenth Chapter
Ruprecht woke with uneasy feelings. The joyful
uplift of yesterday’s afternoon and evening had given
way to deep despondency. A heavy weight pressed
on him again. His talk with Schiereisen had rolled
boulders over his soul, blocking light and air. He saw
it was impossible to live alongside Helmina any
longer. Something must be done… but the worst was
not knowing what. Should he warn Helmina about
Schiereisen? That would make him complicit in her
crimes. Could he let Schiereisen continue his probe
and catch her unawares…? Should he let events
unfold, taking their outcome as divine judgment?
Tormented and drained, he went to breakfast.
Only the children and Miss Nelson were there. Sitting
across from the Englishwoman, he had a strange
sensation. As she sat—black, slender, composed,
ever equable—she seemed the axis of all events in
the castle. A link between poles, unmoving yet the
spine of all motion around her. With a surge, he
resolved to regain his composure.
He pushed back his chair and left to speak with
Helmina. The chambermaid said the mistress hadn’t
called for her. It was nearly eight; she should be up.
His knocks went unanswered. The door was locked.
Suddenly, as he stood with his ear to the wood, a
wedge drove into his mind. Ah… she played me, saw
through Schiereisen, knew of my talk with the
detective yesterday—she’s fled! He stood motionless
a moment, then called old Johann, ordering a
crowbar, pickaxe, or similar tool.
Until the servant returned, Ruprecht stood like a
sentinel before the door. His composure returned; his
nerves relayed clear sensations, his thoughts focused
on the immediate.
Johann brought a pickaxe. Ruprecht wedged its
blade into the door’s lower gap, pressed it firm, and
with one heave, tore the door from its hinges,
crashing it into the room. Johann followed, horrified.
Helmina was gone. Her bed untouched. The
window open, morning sunlight on white pillows and
blue silk coverlet. Ruprecht searched the room… no
letter, no explanation.
Behind him stood an old man, broken, swaying,
crushed by a temple’s sudden collapse.
Schiereisen entered. Ruprecht turned, and one
glance at the detective’s face grasped the event’s
meaning. “You can go, Johann,” he said. “Tell the
staff the mistress has left.”
When Johann was gone, Ruprecht approached
Schiereisen. “You already know what’s happened?”
The detective nodded. “Yes… I know. I was
present at your wife’s departure. Uninvited, of
course.”
“You saw Helmina? You were there? I don’t
understand… and you didn’t arrest her? Why didn’t
you stop her? You suspect her gravely…”
“Yes… you see, Herr Baron, I could’ve detained
her. Perhaps! Certainly! I was about to… but I didn’t.
Why? I’m proud to be your friend, Herr Baron.”
“For my sake?”
“Yes… it wasn’t entirely dutiful… but perhaps
aligns with my duty. I’m here on behalf of Herr Peter
Franz von Zaugg, the late Herr Dankwardt’s brother-
in-law. His main concern is proving Frau Helmina
seized the deceased’s assets through a crime, to
renew certain inheritance claims. I’ve fulfilled that
commission as far as possible. But I also have a duty
to the public—to neutralize dangerous criminals like
your wife and Lorenz. I’ll fulfill that too. But for you,
I delayed it.”
“Delayed? You’ll still pursue Helmina?”
“Yes. I’ve given her a head start. By ten, two of
my agency’s men arrive. At ten, I’ll take up Frau
Helmina’s trail. Chance, luck, or my skill will decide.
I’ll do everything to apprehend her then.
Relentlessly! But I had to give her that head start… I
owed it to our friendship… I know you love this
woman.”
“You’re mistaken,” Ruprecht said calmly. “I no
longer love her. But I couldn’t betray her. You’ll
agree…”
Schiereisen studied Ruprecht’s face. “So,” he said
slowly, “you don’t love Helmina anymore… well,
then…”
“Did you know of her escape plan?”
“No… it was an intuition. I hear a noise in the
night, like someone rattling a door. My senses are
sharp in such hours. I hear it, leap to the garden
door… I see someone tampering with the small tower
gate… my instinct was to seize them. I creep along
the walls, but before I reach it, the door opens…
someone slips out. I rush forward… it’s Helmina.”
“You were in the castle last night?”
“Yes… I was in the castle.”
Before Ruprecht’s eyes flickered a
cinematograph’s chase again. He steadied himself,
adjusted a lever, and focused. “You searched?”
“And found,” Schiereisen replied calmly.
Ruprecht flinched.
“Yes… I got to the secret’s core,” Schiereisen
continued. “I finally did the obvious, what I
should’ve done long ago. The simplest, most
necessary things come last. Last night, I entered the
old tower, where all events pointed.”
Ruprecht gripped the bedpost’s knob with an iron
fist, silent.
“I see you know what I found,” Schiereisen said.
“It wasn’t easy. Jérome Rotrehl helped mightily. You
may know there’s an opening high in the tower. We
climbed in. It was fascinating. The tower’s filled with
rubble, always risking being crushed. Recently, many
obstacles were added. We crawled under a stone slab
balanced on its edge. A fingertip’s touch, and it falls.
A perfect mousetrap. But we pressed deeper. Finally,
we reached a vault far below. Nothing there. I wasn’t
fooled. We searched on, finding the hiding place—
carefully crafted, like Egyptian kings’ tomb
chambers… Yes, there were bodies to hide. Three.
You understand. Caustic lime was used, recently…
well, let’s leave it. We know why Jana ‘met with
misfortune,’ don’t we? I’d reached my goal. Then…
discovering Helmina’s flight… was a bonus.”
“And you let her escape… what can I say…” The
bedpost creaked in Ruprecht’s grip.
Schiereisen placed a hand on his shoulder, his
gaze kind and concerned. “You know,” he said with a
half-smile, “at first I thought… well, I wouldn’t have
been surprised if you’d warned Helmina.”
“I said nothing of our talk.”
Schiereisen nodded. “I know. It was clear the
moment I reached the gate. You told her nothing! Her
flight was long planned. A stranger waited for her
outside.”
“Lorenz!”
“No! Lorenz was below, with a car. It was
another.”
Ruprecht stood firm, his gaze steady. He asked
sharply, demandingly.
“I hope you’re not mistaken, that you no longer
love Helmina,” Schiereisen said. “If that’s true, it’s
good for you. The man who waited was Fritz Gegely.
He fled with her—”
“Fritz Gegely!” Ruprecht said. The connection
eluded him at first, then one thought pushed through
the chaos… “I must go to her… he’s gone… I must
go to her…” He ran off, grabbed his hat, and raced
down the stairs.
Schiereisen kept pace. Ruprecht’s sudden
unraveling, his composure shattered, made the
detective feel he couldn’t leave him alone. He had no
explanation.
Halfway, on the bridge, a messenger met
Ruprecht, summoning him to Hedwig. The Red Ox
chambermaid was distraught, stammering her
message. Her outrage matched her pity for the
abandoned woman, knotting within her. Men were
such vile scum, and Schorsch would hear it today.
Hedwig lay pale in her wheelchair by the open
window, bathed in morning sunlight, her hands
covering a paper. She turned toward the door, a halo
around her light hair.
Ruprecht seized her hand. “Hedwig!” he said,
voice trembling from deep within.
“Yes!” she replied, no further words needed
between them. She handed him the letter Fritz Gegely
had left.
Ruprecht read: “I may bring grief and pain upon
you, my Hedwig, yes, I know, but I cannot do
otherwise. Don’t judge me; try to understand. A new
love has entered my life, a new sun has risen, I must
chart a new course. I must… it’s more compelling
than death. I find it unworthy of an honest man to
hide what the brutality of events makes all too clear: I
could no longer bear life with you. I loved you, you
know that. But now life tears me from you. Life and
my great duty to myself. I am an upright man, great
strength is in me, but by your side, I couldn’t stay
upright, my flight couldn’t soar. I feel my creative
force fading. My Marie Antoinette would’ve been my
only work. I can’t endure that. Your presence is a
constant reminder of humiliation. I must find another
world, free of these reminders. I must fly again. I’ve
been told you’ve rekindled an old friendship. That
eases my parting. I know you have solace. Farewell.”
Ruprecht placed the letter back on the blanket over
Hedwig’s knees. She looked up at him, resigned to
her fate, more bewildered than outraged or sad.
Schiereisen quietly left the room. He knew enough
now; a great relief washed over him. The plump
landlady stopped him outside with indignant
questions and exclamations. Word had spread that
Helmina had vanished, and wild speculations raced.
A carriage rolled down the village street, stopping at
the Red Ox. Two strangers alighted and greeted
Schiereisen. “You’re punctual, thank you,” the
detective said. “We’ll begin at once.”
Ernst Hugo had rushed through his visit to his
elderly mother in Linz. She found little joy in her son
this time. He was restless, irritable, his thoughts
elsewhere.
Her small concerns—Linzer
acquaintances, relatives—were mere annoyances, and
he struggled to feign interest in her tales of
engagements, financial losses, and wayward sons.
What was happening in Vorderschluder? He’d left
the field to another for forty-eight hours. A few
vacation days remained, then duty’s jaws would
swallow him. He couldn’t imagine how he’d cope,
already losing his mind after two days away. He and
Helmina must reach a decision before he returned to
Vienna. Fritz Gegely was an intruder on prior claims,
shifting love’s boundaries. He had to be neutralized.
Ernst Hugo resolved to cast aside decorum and
expose the Heidelberg theft.