The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1918-11-21
THE
TEETH OF THE TIGER
MAURICE LEBLANC
TRANsIATED BY
ALEXANDER TEIXEIR DE MATTOS

fresh outburst Of my anger. Ans
wer me! Here, look, my cigaret
is out. I'm throwing it away,
Florence. A sign of your head
is the answer yes or MOI"
He bent over her and shook her
by the shoulders as if to force her
to make the sign which he asked
for. But suddenly seized with
a sort Of frenzy, he rose to his
feet and exclaimed:
"She''s crying! She's crying !
She darcs to weep! But, wretched
girl, do you think that | don't
know what you're crying for9 I
know your secret, pretty one, and
[ know that your tears do not
come from any fear of dying.
You? Why, you fear nothing! !
No, it's something else! Shall I
tell yOn your secret2 Oh, l cant,
[ cant though the words scOrch
by lips. Oh, cursed woman, you We
brought it on yourself! You
yourself want to die, Florence, as
you're crying-you yourself want
to die
While he was speaking he hast
ened to get to work and prepare
the horrible tragedy. The leather
pocketbook which, he had men
toned as containing the papers
was lying OH the ground; he put
it in his pocket. Then, still trem-
bling, he pulled off his jacket and
threw it on the nearest bush.
Next, he took up the pickaxe and
climbed the lower stones, stamp
ing with rage and shouting:
Its you who have asked to
die, Florence! Nothing can pre-
vent it now. It's too late! You
asked for it and you've got it
All, you're crying! You dare to
cry! What madness"
He was standing almost above
the grotto, on the right. His
anger made him draw himself to
his full height. He looked terri
BILE, hideous, atrocious. His eyes
with blood as he inserted
the bar Of the pickaxe between
the two blocks Of granite, at the
spot where the brick was wedged
in. Then, standing on one side,
in a place Of safety, he struck the
struck it again. At the
third stroke the brick flew out.
What happened was so sudden,
the pyramid of stones and rub
bish came crashing with such
violence into the hollow of the
and in front of the grottO,
that the cripple himself, in spite
of his precautions, was dragged
down by the avalanche and
thrown upon the grass. 1t was
not a serious fall, however, and
he picked himself up at once,
stammering:
CilCC HlOIciiCC
Though he had SO carefully
prepared the catastrophe, and
brought it about with such deter
its results seemed sud
to stagger him. He hunted
for the girl with terrified eyes.
He stopped down and crawled
the chaos shrOuded in
clouds of dust. He looked
through the interstices. He saw
nothing.
Florence was buried under the
dead, incisible, as he had
anticipated.
"Dead!' be said, with staring
eyes and a look of stupor on his
face. dead! Florence is dead!"
Once again he lapsed into a
state of absolute prostration,
gradually slackened his
legs, brought him to the ground
and paralyzed him. His two eff
following SO close upon
each other and ending in disast-
ers Of which he had been the i'm
witness, seemed to have
robbed him Of all his remaining
energy.
With no hatred in him, since
Arsenc Lupin no longer lived,
with no love, since Florence was
no more, he looked like a man
who had lost his last motive for
existence
Twice his lips uttered the name
of Florence. Was he regretting
his friend? Having reached the
last of that appalling series Of
crimes, was he imagining the sew
eral stages, each marked with a
corpseY Was something like a
conscience making itself felt deep
III that brute? Or was it
not rather the sort of physical
that numbs the stated
beast of prey, glutted with flesh,
with blood, a torpor that is
almost volnptuousnesss
+, sIevertheless, he once more re-