Chapter 77: The Last Stand: II
Their instincts about the situation’s gravity proved correct. The moment after Morrel had entered his office with Coclès, Julie saw the accountant emerge pale and trembling, his features betraying complete devastation. She would have questioned him as he passed, but the loyal employee hurried downstairs with unusual haste, raising his hands heavenward and exclaiming, "Oh, Miss Julie! What a terrible disaster! Who could have imagined it!"
Moments later, Julie watched him return upstairs carrying several heavy ledgers, a portfolio, and a money bag.
Morrel examined the books, opened the portfolio, and counted the cash. His total assets amounted to 6,000-8,000 francs, with receivables due by the 5th totaling 4,000-5,000 francs. Even in the most optimistic scenario, this gave him 14,000 francs to cover debts of 287,500 francs. He didn’t even have enough for a partial settlement offer.
Yet when Morrel came down for dinner, he appeared completely calm. This composure alarmed the two women more than the deepest despair would have. After dinner, Morrel usually went to the Merchants’ Club to drink coffee and read the shipping news. Tonight, he didn’t leave the house, returning instead to his office.
Coclès seemed utterly bewildered. For most of the day, he sat in the courtyard on a stone, his head bare under the blazing sun. Emmanuel tried to comfort the women, but his words rang hollow. The young man knew the business too well not to recognize that catastrophe loomed over the Morrel family.
Night fell. The two women waited, hoping Morrel would join them when he left his office, but they heard him pass their door, trying to muffle his footsteps. They listened as he entered his bedroom and locked the door from inside.
Madame Morrel sent her daughter to bed. Half an hour after Julie had retired, the mother rose, removed her shoes, and crept stealthily down the hallway to peer through the keyhole at what her husband was doing. In the passage, she glimpsed a retreating shadow, Julie, equally anxious, had had the same idea.
"He’s writing," Julie whispered.
Without speaking, they understood each other. Madame Morrel looked through the keyhole again. Morrel was indeed writing, but she noticed something her daughter had missed: her husband was writing on official stamped paper. The terrible thought that he was composing his will flashed through her mind. She shuddered but lacked the strength to speak.
The next day, Morrel seemed as calm as ever. He went to his office as usual, came to breakfast punctually, and after dinner, he drew his daughter close, cradling her head in his arms and holding her against his chest for a long time.
That evening, Julie told her mother that despite his apparent calm, she’d felt her father’s heart beating violently. The following two days passed similarly.
On the evening of September 4th, Morrel asked his daughter for the key to his study. Julie trembled at this request, which seemed ominous. Why would her father ask for this key, which she’d always kept and which had only been taken from her as childhood punishment?
"What have I done wrong, Father," she asked, "that you should take this key from me?"
"Nothing, my dear," replied the tormented man, tears springing to his eyes at this innocent question. "Nothing at all. I simply need it."
Julie pretended to search for the key. "I must have left it in my room," she said, hurrying out. But instead of going to her bedroom, she rushed to consult Emmanuel.
"Don’t give that key to your father," he said urgently. "And tomorrow morning, if possible, don’t leave him alone for a moment."
She pressed Emmanuel for details, but he either knew nothing or wouldn’t share what he knew.
During the night between September 4th and 5th, Madame Morrel lay listening to every sound. Until three in the morning, she heard her husband pacing his room in great agitation. Only then did he finally collapse onto his bed.
Mother and daughter spent the night together, expecting Maximilian since the previous evening. At eight in the morning, Morrel entered their room. Though calm, the night’s turmoil was written in his pale, careworn face. They didn’t dare ask how he’d slept.
Morrel was kinder to his wife and more affectionate to his daughter than he’d ever been. He couldn’t stop gazing at and kissing his sweet girl. Mindful of Emmanuel’s warning, Julie tried to follow her father when he left the room, but he said quickly, "Stay with your mother, dearest."
When Julie tried to accompany him anyway, he said firmly, "I want you to stay."
This was the first time Morrel had ever spoken so authoritatively, but his tone carried paternal kindness that Julie couldn’t disobey. She remained standing, mute and motionless.
An instant later, the door opened. She felt two arms encircle her and lips press against her forehead. Looking up, she cried out in joy.
"Maximilian! My dearest brother!"
At these words, Madame Morrel rose and threw herself into her son’s arms.
"Mother," said the young man, looking between his mother and sister, "what’s happened? Your letter frightened me, and I came as quickly as possible."
"Julie," said Madame Morrel, gesturing to her son, "go tell your father that Maximilian has arrived."
The young woman rushed from the room, but on the first step of the staircase, she encountered a man holding a letter.
"Are you Miss Julie Morrel?" the stranger asked with a strong Italian accent.
"Yes, sir," Julie replied hesitantly. "What do you want? I don’t know you."
"Read this letter," he said, handing it to her.
Julie hesitated. "It concerns your father’s best interests," the messenger added.
The young woman quickly took the letter and read:
"Go immediately to Meillan Walkways, number 15. Ask the doorman for the key to the room on the fifth floor. Enter the apartment and take from the corner of the mantelpiece a purse made of red silk mesh. Give it to your father. It’s crucial that he receive it before eleven o’clock. You promised to obey me completely. Remember your oath.
-Sinbad the Sailor."
Julie cried out in joy, looking around to question the messenger, but he had vanished. She read the letter again and noticed a postscript:
"You must fulfill this mission personally and alone. If you bring anyone else, or if someone goes in your place, the doorman will say he knows nothing about it."
This postscript dampened her happiness considerably. Was there some danger? Some trap? Her innocence had kept her unaware of the perils that might threaten a young woman, but one doesn’t need to understand danger to fear it. Indeed, unknown perils often inspire the greatest terror.
Julie hesitated and decided to seek advice. Through some strange impulse, she turned not to her mother or brother, but to Emmanuel. She hurried downstairs and told him everything, about the Thomson & French agent’s visit, the staircase encounter, her promise, and showed him the letter.