The Red Necklace Read Online Free PDF Page B

constitutional monarchy.”
    “Please, monsieur,” said Topolain, “my doll is no political fortune-teller.”
    “But you said, sir, that he can see into the future, into the minds of men. I am merely asking what he sees.”
    “Watches, snuffboxes, trinkets, bonbons, and the like,” said Topolain. He felt he was losing his grip. What on earth had come over Yann, that he would say something so dangerous?
    “Humor me,” the young man persisted.
    Yann looked out at all the fine ladies and gentlemen, at the emeralds, rubies, and diamonds that glittered on wilted flesh. Louis de Jonquières appeared to be holding his blood-soaked head under his arm. Yann blinked, hoping the vision would go away, only to see Death walk into the room. He wanted to keep silent, but it was as if he were possessed.
    He heard the Pierrot say, “I see you all drowning in blood.”
    This remark was so unexpected and so shocking that Topolain burst out laughing. “As you see, messieurs and mesdames, on the question of politics the Pierrot is but a wooden doll.”
    None of the guests were laughing. Instead their faces were grave and the atmosphere in the room became uneasy.
    “A doll indeed,” said the marquis solemnly. He turned to his guests. “I can assure you, my dear friends, that such a thing would never happen here. It must be an English doll!” There was a ripple of nervous laughter. “In England, that country of barbarians, yes, maybe. Look at what they did to their King Charles the First—chopped off his head! We would never fall so low.”
    There was a murmur of approval. Everyone applauded.
    Count Kalliovski watched with interest. He had sat there, judge and jury on the fate of Topolain and Têtu, and had come to his verdict. This would be their last ever performance. After tonight the old fool and his friend would be dead.
    “Thank you, that will be all,” said the marquis, dismissing Topolain. “I believe the entertainment, if you can call it that, is over. We will adjourn.”
    “Not quite yet,” said the count. “The show is not finished. I believe Monsieur Topolain is celebrated for a trick that he does with a pistol. Monsieur Topolain is the only man in Europe who claims that no bullet can harm him.”
    “Impossible!” said the marquis.
    “Well then, let us see for ourselves,” said the count.
    Topolain was on his own. In his mind’s eye he saw the Grim Reaper climb out of the wooden skull, grow in size, and stand there watching him, just like Kalliovski. For one moment he contemplated escaping, but he could see Milkeye standing guard at the library doors. If he ran, it would be the end for all of them. He took a long, deep gulp of air. He who thought himself a coward now showed the bravery of a lion. Always the showman, he brought out the pistol and a bullet and showed them to the audience.
    “I will prove to you that I am invincible. This bullet will be fired at my very heart, and yet I will live to tell the tale. Now, I require an assistant.”
    He looked out into the audience, knowing full well who would stand up.
    “You need someone with an accurate eye. I flatter myself that I am that man,” said Count Kalliovski.
    Topolain wished that he had at least drunk more of the marquis’s very fine cognac. He loaded the pistol and handed it to the count, who took his time inspecting it. Only Topolain saw that with sleight of hand he had interfered with the weapon.
    “When I raise my handkerchief, you will fire.”
    “Wait,” said the count. “Have you forgotten? Should you not say some magic words to keep you safe?”
    Oh, Topolain remembered all right, but he knew there were no words to keep him safe.
    The count’s voice broke through his memories. “No bullet . . .”
    “No bullet,” repeated Topolain, “can harm me. I have drunk from the cup of everlasting life.”
    With these words he walked away bravely as if he were about to fight a duel, though, unlike Kalliovski, he was unarmed. He looked his