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2.35:22, 2, 30
Clumas Barhmur
HARVARD COLLEGE
LIBRARY





The Old Corner Book
Store, Inc.





*** • • • •~~~~ ~~~~ -.-.-.-. ） ----
- … … • • • ••••••• • • •





THE YELLOW DOCUMENT





o
|
-
The Fantômas Detective Novels
THE YELLOW
DOCUMENT
“FANTöMAs of BERLIN"
-
BY
MARCEL ALLAIN
NEW YORK
BRENTANO'S


I9 I9


235.2%. 2, 30
~ 6
' ' ' ' " - BRARY
. . . . . .
. . . . . . ." § BARBOUR
siaN 1936
CopyRIGHT, 1919, BY BRENTANo's
All rights reserved


CHAPTER
II
III
IV
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
A Joke
A TRAGIC APPEAL
IN DANGER of DEATH .
FACING CoNTEMPT .
CoLETTE .
PAGE
12
22
33
42
53
60
69
79
91
101
107
116
126
VI
VII
VIII
IX
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
II
III
LoyalTY .
A CASE of CoNSCIENCE
FRANCE CoMES FIRST
A MYSTERIOUs PHOTOGRAPH
HoRRIBLE CERTAINTY
A DYING CoNFESSION
SILENT WoRDs
HER FATHER
FLIGHT
FATALITY
SHE . -
TowARDS FoRGETFULNESs .
SECOND PART
THE HEAD of THE SERVICE
IT Is A LovER
MASTER AND WALET
141.
149
161
172
181
193
209


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
PARDON
THROUGH FEAR .
BEATEN
BETweeN TRAITORs
A MYSTERIOUs DISAPPEARANCE
THE PRICE OF BlooD
For FRANCE! For ColeTTE! .
Monet's VENGEANCE .
I'M Nobody .
Love's TREACHERY .
32 + 4 = 36
YoU . . .
FoR THE Love of Monet .
THE TRAP
VENGEANce
THE LAST BATTLE .
PAGE
219
231
241
249
257
263
271
279
285
292
300
303
313
322
331
338


The Yellow Document
PROLOGUE
A MONSTER
RESSED in a colonel's uniform of the Death's
Head Hussars—the sixth uniform he had
worn since the morning—William II left the card
table. His moustache curled upward and a con-
quering air concealed the infirmity of his short left
arm. With a Napoleonic gesture, he spoke with
forced gaiety.
“Ambassadress, I have beaten you.”
“Your Majesty was pitiless.”
“Naturally, Ambassadress.”
And moving away a step, he added:
“I do not hold with the French that one must
never beat a woman, even with a flower.”
William II pushed aside the small card table
upon which he had just concluded a well-fought bat-
tle with the wife of the Russian ambassador, and
continued:
“My opinion is that every charming woman is a
demon. I should not choose a flower, but a sword,
to beat them with.”
The ambassadress bowed, smiling. William II
I


2 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
turned on his heel and moved away, muttering, “A
fool.”
That evening an intimate dinner had taken place
at the Potsdam Court in honor of the Kaiser's birth-
day anniversary.
It was in 1893. The emperor had just reached
his thirty-fourth year. One glance at him would be
enough to guess that he hoped great things of the
future and believed in the promise of a glorious
destiny.
Pride, daring, avidity—all the defects which
stamp the soul of an adventurer, characterized his
imperial features. One might also read there ras-
cality and hypocrisy.
William II now leaned toward the empress,
Augusta Victoria, and questioned her more than
amiably:
“Does not the heat disturb you, my dear? You
are very pale.”
In reality, the Kaiser was quite indifferent to the
health of the empress, but this show of attention
was part of the rôle he played. William II did not
disdain from time to time to affect the virtues of a
good bourgeois—at least before his guests—to give
the impression of being an excellent husband.
What answer did the empress make? William II
moved away from her chair without waiting to hear,
and touched a Prussian general, one of his favorites,
on the arm.
“Well, my dear fellow, and what about your sol-
diers? Do you think those recruits we were talking
of the other day will maintain the prestige of our
*


PROLOGUE 3
army? Are the troops of '93 worth those of '70?”
“Without doubt, Sire:”
The emperor's question produced a chill in the
big drawing-room where the evening's guests re-
mained silent each time he deigned to utter a word.
The French ambassador grew pale.
William II noticed it.
He frequently made “breaks” with a heaviness of
wit which proved a total lack of savoir-vivre. He
wasn't disturbed, however, and shrugging his shoul-
ders, he laughed and turned the conversation. It
was his way of excusing himself. That day, how-
ever, he gave a slight shudder when he met the en-
ergetic and determined eyes of the French ambassa-
dor. He started to speak, stopped, and then ques-
tioned:
“What has happened to your military attaché,
Ambassador; that Captain Bayen? Will he soon be
back again?”
The ambassador articulated clearly:
“Very soon, I hope, Sire. He is finishing his
studies in tactics—which enable the French army to
remain what it has always been, the first army in
the world.”
The reply was sharp, brutal even, and the am-
bassador, a courteous man, must have felt pushed
beyond the limit by the insolence of William II to
dare it.
The Kaiser appeared not to understand.
“By Jove, I was forgetting—I must leave you for
a few moments. I have some work.”
And as nobody answered, the emperor, keeping


PROLOGUE 5
The emperor waved to a seat and continued:
“The porters did not announce your arrival, Doc-
tor Krampft. You nearly frightened me.”
“I beg your majesty to forgive the servants,” the
man replied slowly. “Nobody saw me enter.”
“Did you come in through the walls then?”
“Perhaps.”
The emperor nodded:
“After all, that would not be impossible to you.”
He raised a warning finger:
“Do you know what they call you, Krampft?”
“Will your majesty deign to tell me?”
“My household calls you ‘Fantômas of Berlin.'”
The Kaiser dropped onto a sofa and continued:
“And the title is deserved. You have the audacity
and the cunning of the man they designate as
“The Genius of Crime.” The master of fright-
fulness.”
“Is this a reproach, Sire?”
“It's a compliment, Krampft.”
A grim laugh followed and the Kaiser added:
“That's enough. Fantômas, since you are Fan-
tômas, what have you learned?”
“Nothing, Sire.”
“What! Nothing!”
The Kaiser started and his voice grew violent.
“The yellow document? That cursed document.
Are you going to get it for me?”
“No, Sire, it is in the hands of Captain Bayen.”
“Do you know at least, if it is complete?”
“I am sure it is not, Sire.”
With a gesture, silencing his master, the emperor,


6 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
the mysterious individual called Fantômas of Berlin,
pronounced slowly:
“Sire, your majesty will allow me to define the
situation which you do not quite understand. A
man, an Austrian, has invented a machine of such
power that the country owning it would be assured
of world supremacy. This man offered his secret
to your government. Your government did not be-
lieve in him. So without hesitation, he offered it
elsewhere. It was then that Captain Bayen, attaché
of the French embassy, sacrificed his private fortune
and bought the secret.”
“Alas!” sighed the Kaiser.
“Sire, do not despair,” murmured the enigmatical
individual. “This man sold his secret, but he did not
sell the whole of it. Captain Bayen has only the de-
scription of a machine. He has not the method of
using it to get the full results. The inventor asks
for millions; Captain Bayen has applied to his gov-
ernment for the money. We shall not have lost until
Captain Bayen possesses the whole secret.”
Herr Krampft folded his arms and added calmly:
“Now Captain Bayen will never know the whole
secret.”
“Why not? France is rich—”
“I ask your majesty's pardon. Captain Bayen
will never know the secret because the inventor can-
not tell him. He is dead.”
“Dead?”
“Dead, Sire. He died yesterday, poisoned by
his dinner.”
Herr Krampft did not shudder in announcing the


8 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
added to an abundant moustache and beard, en-
larged his face and hid his mouth and the most of
his cheeks.
William II stopped abruptly.
“That woman must never be able to speak.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Yet she must live so that if ever we secure the
yellow document from her husband, she may be able
to explain to us how it can be utilized.”
“That is true, Sire.”
“It is necessary.”
William II placed both hands on the doctor's
shoulders.
“Krampft, do you recall the mission I entrusted
you with three weeks ago?”
“I recall it, if your majesty orders me to do so.”
“Krampft, I advised you that a child would be
put into your charge. I told you that you would
have the bringing up of that child. I told you the
child is my child, my bastard. Krampft, I gave to
you then a proof of my confidence.”
“Sire, I hope I have and will always deserve it.”
“Undoubtedly, Krampft—well, I have another
mission for you . . . as serious a one—”
“I am at your majesty's orders.”
“Krampft, this is what I have decided: Mme.
Bayen must die!”
“Die, Sire?”
“Apparently die, Krampft.”
“I don't understand, your majesty.”
“And yet it is quite simple. Captain Bayen is
guilty of espionage in buying the yellow document


PROLOGUE 9
here . . . Krampft, I shall see his wife and say to
her: “Madame, your husband will get twenty years
of prison if you refuse to save him. You can save
him by giving up the secret confided to you by the
inventor who died yesterday. Until then, you will
be my prisoner.” Madame Bayen is French. She
is a woman in love—she will speak and save her
husband.”
“And you would release her, Sire?”
“No I never !”
There was a moment of silence.
Krampft dared to break it.
“If your majesty thinks to force this woman to
speak, your majesty is mistaken. She is not only
French, she is Alsatian. She will hold her tongue.
Or else she will provoke a scandal. She will write—
telegraph—she will escapel”
The Kaiser shook his head.
“Krampft,” he murmured, “you forget my agents
who open all letters, my police who arrest those who
try to escape—you forget that I am the master and
that I shall say to this woman: ‘If you attempt
to escape, Captain Bayen will run the risk of a
mortal accident—' You forget something else,
Krampft.”
“What, Sire?”
“That Mme. Bayen is enceinte, that she expects a
child—and that the child will serve as a hostage.
We shall steal it from her if necessary!”
Another silence reigned.
The emperor began his pacing again. He finally
spoke:


IO THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Krampft, a terrible struggle is about to take
place for this yellow document. Captain Bayen has
won the first point, I shall win the second. I hold
him through his wife, and I hold his wife through
her child.”
But Krampft shook his head.
“You are not convinced?” asked the Kaiser.
“No,” replied the counsellor calmly.
Ah! It was not a question of fright or horror
for the infamous plan which William II dared to
expose.
But he foresaw redoubtable consequences of that
plan, and these consequences alarmed him.
“Sire, your majesty seems to me too daring,” he
ventured, at length. “Your majesty may possibly
hold Mme. Bayen prisoner by reason of her child,
but consider, it is not only a question of Mme. Bayen
—what will your majesty say to the captain when he
returns?”
“That his wife is dead, Krampft.”
“And if he doesn't believe you?”
“He will believe me, Krampft, for he will mourn
at her tomb—without suspecting that his wife is in
confinement, perhaps not far away. Such things are
easily brought about when one is who I am—the
emperor. You know that very well.”
Certainly William II would have been well served
had his counsellor seized him by the throat and
strangled him as one strangles the most odious
criminal.
But Krampft merely smiled:
“May I put a question to your majesty?”


PROLOGUE II.
“Speak, Krampft.”
“Has your majesty already chosen Mme. Bayen's
jailer?”
“Certainly,” replied the emperor. “That jailer
will be you.” And he added jeeringly:
“It is a position which belongs of right to Fan-
tômas of Berlin.”
An hour later, Krampft left the imperial palace.
But in spite of the high confidence which the
Kaiser had shown in him by making him his associate
in crime, Krampft appeared anxious. He muttered
to himself in a low tone: “The emperor is mistakenl
His majesty does not know French hearts. Hate
blinds him! Whether he tortures the wife or the
mother, Mme. Bayen is Alsatian and will not speak.
And as for Captain Bayen, the soldier, even though
he think his wife dead, even though he be con-
demned to silence, he will not forget—he will have
his revenge.”
Krampft felt chilled from head to feet.


I
A JOKE
Aºi. three o'clock had struck at a neigh-
boring school, the heat was scarcely less in-
tense than at noon and the buildings of the cavalry
quarters of Lunéville, whitewashed, with roofs of
red tile, seemed to flame under the pitiless sky.
Javot, cavalryman on duty at the barracks, ques-
tioned the quartermaster with visible anxiety:
“What's your idea, Quartermaster, is it to be
war?”
For a week past the newspapers had been filled
with sensational news about the “difficulties of
Europe,” of the “diplomatic tension,” hinting by
degrees that a war was not impossible, that it was
likely, that it was certain.
The quartermaster shrugged his shoulders, and
like the fighter he was, gripped the hilt of his sabre.
“Hum! War! War! Then mobilize—and there
you are!” -
“Everyone is talking of it here, Quartermaster.”
In fact in Lunéville, a town so near the frontier,
so French, and with such hatred of Germany, war
was the only topic of conversation.
Will war really be declared?
Javot, who was curious, but lacked in ideas, re-
marked:
2-
_-T-
12


A JOKE I3
“Things are stirring, but we won't get war to-
night.”
At this moment the men had their attention drawn
to an old white-haired priest who had stopped at
the gate, apparently hesitating to enter.
Javot rose leisurely, stretched himself, yawning,
then buttoning his dolman, asked:
“Say, d'you think the chap in the cassock means to
join us since he's inspecting the barracks?”
A hearty laugh greeted this sally.
“Doesn't look as if he'd make much of a cavalry-
man.”
And in truth the priest scarcely suggested the
type of a warrior.
He appeared to be well over sixty and wore a
huge pair of spectacles awry on his nose. He leaned
on a thick stick which served practically as a crutch.
Timid and hesitating, he went forward and back-
ward, much to the amusement of the men. -
The quartermaster, dragging his sabre and clink-
ing his spurs, advanced.
“He’s dying to ask questions, but he doesn't dare.
Have to help him.”
Stepping down, he addressed him:
“Pardon, sir, but do you want anything?”
The priest immediately became alarmed. He
bowed, hat in hand and stammered:
“Yes—no—that is—Colonel Bayen?”
“And what do you want with the colonel, sir?”
“I want to speak to him—I mean, I want him to
know that I am at his service—or rather—”
What the devil could this priest want with the


14 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“father” of the regiment? “He'll get a quick right-
about-face,” thought the quartermaster. Then
smilingly:
“Well, sir, it's very easy to see the colonel.”
And turning to the sentry, he ordered:
“Call the adjutant on duty.”
The order was carried forward and finally
reached the officer, who was cursing in the canteen.
“Well, what is it?”
The quartermaster announced:
“It's about the priest here who wants to see the
colonel. Shall I send an orderly?”
“Oh, give me a rest. I’ve other fish to fry. Pass
along the priest. The colonel will see him if he
wants to.”
The adjutant turned on his heels and moved off
with his customary cursing.
“What an outfit! Lot of loafers l I'll give them
a spell of the cooler!”
He could not have said whom he was threatening.
His anger was vain, perpetual, and without effect.
Now, while Javot conducted the priest to Colonel
Bayen's quarters, that officer was pacing up and
down in his study, his hands behind his back, and
plunged in deep thought.
Colonel Bayen?
Those who formerly had met the young military
attaché in Berlin would probably not recognize him
now—the passing years and possible troubles had so
aged him. His eyes alone had remained as they
used to be, energetic and strong-willed. His grey
hair and moustache, tanned face, and quick move-
_


A JOKE I 5
ments were typical of the highest class of offi-
Cer.
He was no longer a drawing-room officer. Upon
his breast he wore the Legion of Honor, a distinc-
tion gained at the point of the sword.
Colonel Bayen had fought in the colonies and his
bravery had advanced him while still a young man
to the grade of colonel. His career had been full
of excitement.
The 32nd dragoons were doubtless ignorant of
his history, but his fellow officers sometimes spoke
of it.
It was known that Colonel Bayen had suddenly
resigned his post of embassy attaché, giving up a
sure career upon the death of his young wife.
It was known that her death had occasioned him
such despair that for a time it was feared he might
lose his mind.
Then, suddenly, it was noticed that the officer had
pulled himself together again.
He went to Algeria and won his advancement by
the courage with which he punished the rebel tribes.
It was only six months ago that Captain Bayen,
receiving the grade of colonel, had returned to
France.
By what mysterious influence, by what recommen-
dation to the ministry had he obtained command of
the 32nd dragoons at Lunéville? Nobody knew.
But certain traits of his character were better known.
Strict as to military matters, he lived alone, traveled
seldom and passed his time either on horseback or
in his study.


I6 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Colonel Bayen abruptly stopped his anxious pac-
ing as Javot knocked at the door.
“Come in,” he cried.
The orderly opened the door and stood at atten-
tion.
“Colonel, there's a priest here—he says you are
expecting him—or that he wants to see you.”
Certainly Colonel Bayen had made no appoint-
ment with a priest. He seemed surprised:
“Where is he?”
“In the salon, Colonel.”
“In the salon?”
A vague smile fluttered over the officer's face.
Next door to his study, a small room, narrow and
dirty, encumbered with papers, was considered by
his cavalrymen as the “salon.”
The name was traditional and had been handed
down from class to class until nobody dared to cor-
rect the pretension.
Colonel Bayen thought for a moment.
“I’ve something else to do than receive vis-
its. . . .”
He was about to refuse when suddenly he changed
his mind.
“All right, send him in.”
“May at well get it over,” he thought. “I sup-
pose this priest has come to recommend some young
soldier. I’d better see him today—for tomorrow—”
Evidently tomorrow's events would preclude the
reception of any visitor.
A moment later, the priest made his humble ap-
parition in Colonel Bayen's study.


A JOKE 17
He made a deep bow and then waited to be ad-
dressed by the officer.
Colonel Bayen, not understanding his attitude,
spoke:
“Well, abbé, I am listening.”
Then the priest came to a decision and conquered
his timidity sufficiently to burst out volubly:
“You see I am punctual, Colonel: After receiv-
ing the visit you know about, I did not delay an in-
stant. Alas! in these days with rumors of war in the
air, one must not put off until tomorrow what one
can do today. And since you have been touched by
divine grace and have done me the signal honor, I
who am a humble priest—”
Colonel Bayen, who had been seated at his desk,
rose abruptly, interrupting the priest.
“Excuse me, abbé, but I haven't the least idea
what you are talking about . . . touched by divine
grace? The visit you received? What the devil do
you mean?”
If the colonel seemed surprised, the abbé appeared
more so. Then a quick smile spread over his face.
“Oh, pardon, you are right. I have forgotten to
introduce myself. I am Abbé Jandron, second
curate of the church of Saint Jacques.”
“Abbé Jandron, second curate of the church of
Saint Jacques?”
Mechanically and in an amazed tone, the colonel
repeated the words, which didn't convey any mean-
ing to him. Slightly impatient, he questioned:
“Forgive me, abbé, but I'm rather in a hurry.
Kindly explain the object of your visit.”


18 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“But, Colonel, you know quite well why I am
here since you sent for me yourself.”
“I sent for you?”
“Why, certainly.”
“When? How? Why?”
The priest, seeing the officer's amazement, had a
sudden thought.
“I'm afraid that in my absent-mindedness I have
made another mistake. You are not Colonel
Bayen?”
“Pardon, I am Colonel Bayen.”
“Then, it is my turn to be at a loss.”
And while the colonel, now amused at the evi-
dent discomfiture of his visitor, questioned him by a
look, the priest continued:
“Colonel, I am very distressed at what has hap-
pened! I am, doubtless, the victim of a stupid joke
—one in very bad taste. I see now you did not send
for me.”
“No, abbé, once more, no.”
Colonel Bayen, becoming serious, questioned:
“Please explain. How did you come here?”
The priest, no longer timid, replied:
“In two words, this is what happened:
“An hour ago I was in my garden. I was reading
my breviary when my servant came to announce that
a woman, to be exact, a lady, wished to see me.
Naturally, I acceded to her request, thinking she was
some penitent—”
“And that was not the case?”
“No, Colonel. I found myself in the presence of
a most distinguished and amiable person, who said:


A JOKE I9
‘Abbé, I am sent by Colonel Bayen, commandant of
the 32nd regiment of dragoons, in barracks in the
town. The colonel has been suddenly touched by
divine grace. On the eve of a possible war and
probable death, he wishes to speak with a min-
ister of God so that his conscience may be at rest
and in peace.’ And that is all that brought me here,
Colonel.” -
The priest was silent for a moment, then con-
tinued:
“If you did not send this person to me, you see
that I am the victim of a joke—and that I can only
apologize for having disturbed you.”
“One moment, abbé !”
Colonel Bayen had grown pale and his voice be-
trayed his nervousness.
“What did this person look like?”
The priest made a vague gesture.
“Alas, Colonel, I scarcely saw her—she wore a
very thick veil. Still, I do remember she had regu-
lar features, very white hair and a simple but ele-
gant costume.”
The good abbé was able to add no further de-
tails, and doubtless he had never before spoken at
such length of a woman, nor of what he called in
the catechism, external signs of beauty.
Colonel Bayen, frowning, had appeared to listen
eagerly to the priest's words.
“This woman is unknown to you?”
“Absolutely, Colonel.”
“She is not a member of your parish?”
“I have never seen her—”


2O THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“There can have been no mistake?” -
“No, especially as she herself gave me directions
for coming here.”
The priest, with some curiosity, asked:
“Do you know who it could be? Among your
friends is there one who might be interested in your
soul's salvation?”
Already the habits of the confessor were regain-
ing their importance in his spirit.
“Perhaps one of your relatives may have been
planning an interview with me through pure chris-
tian zeal? Have you not really decided to study our
holy religion? Don't you think that in view of a
possible war—”
The priest stopped suddenly.
Leaving his chair, and seemingly oblivious of the
ecclesiastic, Colonel Bayen, very pale, began pacing,
feverishly up and down his study.
The abbé distinctly heard him murmur.
“It's a warning—it's a warning—certain—”
“A warning from heaven,” declared the good
priest. “In the noble profession of arms, it is well to
make peace with God before the battle. Tureune,
Condé, Bayard—”
His eloquence was again interrupted.
“Abbé, one question. Did this woman actually
speak of ‘probable death'? Do you recall the
words?”
The priest seemed to make a great effort of mem-
ory.
“No,” he declared at last. “I could not guarantee
the words but I very well remember this: She said,


A JOKE 2 I
“If war breaks out, Colonel Bayen may be killed, he
must be converted, he must win to heaven.’”
Colonel Bayen did not reply. He continued his
walk, growling and apparently furious:
“It's queer—it's more than queerl”
Before his anger, the unhappy curate became still
more alarmed. He bowed and bowed:
“Pray believe that I am so sorry—this stupid joke
—in such bad taste.” +
“It is not a joke, abbé.”
Colonel Bayen spoke in a low voice and then ap-
peared to regret his words. He quickly continued:
“Please don't apologize, abbé; it's of no impor-
tance whatever. I will have you escorted to the
door.”
It was a dismissal. The priest did not insist
further. Following Javot and bowing to all the of-
ficers he passed, the abbé left the barracks.
In the meantime Colonel Bayen, alone in his study,
livid, his arms folded, his head bent, reflected:
“Who?” he asked himself. “Who is the woman?
And above all, who sent her? Why? For what
end? Is it known, by any chance—” -
He did not finish the thought.
Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders.
“All right,” he murmured. “But I must decide
—decide without losing a second. It is urgent—it
may be even now too. late.”


II
A TRAGIC APPEAL
IN excessively bad humor and clanking his sabre
on the stairs, Louis Monet, lieutenant of the 2nd
squadron of the 32nd regiment of dragoons, re-
turned at ten o'clock at night to his very modest
apartment. Louis Monet was returning from leave
and was decidedly angry. While he climbed to his
rooms he grumbled to himself.
“Fine business! I'll bet I’ll get a brick on my
head next! What the deucel When one is on fur-
lough one is on furloughl What does this telegram
mean? Why recall me posthaste? What has hap-
pened?”
Louis Monet reached his door and groped for
the keyhole, cursing the while. At length he found
it and entered the hall shouting:
“Hullo, La Flemmel La Flemme!”
He had a good resonant voice which rang through
the apartment without getting any reply.
“La Flemmel Come here or I'll give you a taste
of the cooler.”
And then he suddenly quieted down.
“The begger isn't here!”
He lit a match, glanced round the room which
served for sitting-room and study, then went into
his bed-room. He had made the round of his apart-
ment.
22


A TRAGIC APPEAL 23
“Nobody,” he grumbled, “Not a soul. La
Flemme is on a spree!”
He threw his sabre on a sofa, then lighting his
lamp, which began to smoke abominably, he broke
out again:
“Good lord! It's poisoning me. And my orderly
off without leave! I'll give him four days!”
To hear him one would suppose that Louis Monet
had a disagreeable character and that he was in the
habit of punishing his unfortunate orderly.
Nothing was further from the truth. If he took
it out of his servant, well named La Flemme, it was
simply because he had to find an object for his anger.
But that anger was harmless as La Flemme himself
knew very well.
The officer now lit a cigarette and calmed down
immediately.
“The whole thing is absurd,” he murmured.
“What can the colonel want with me? Why this
urgent recall?”
And for the twentieth time at least, Louis Monet
reread the telegram which had been given to him
some hours previously at Epinal where he had ex-
pected to get a good dinner at an old aunt's house,
having a week's leave of absence. Louis Monet
seemed very young. Entering Saint-Cyr with
honors, he had gone from there to Saumur. He
then joined the 32nd dragoons as second lieu-
tenant and had had the luck to advance rapidly to
the grade of lieutenant. He had now been a
scant three months in garrison at Lunéville. His
furlough, so unfortunately interrupted, was the


24 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
first he had obtained since his nomination to the
corps.
A charming man and a good sport. That was his
reputation among his men. He did not seem greatly
surprised at the absence of his orderly.
“After all, the beggar couldn't guess that I would
return so unexpectedly.”
And lighting another cigarette, he opened the win-
dow and leaned out.
The streets were already deserted. The life of
the small town had sunk into silence and the night.
Louis Monet gave a sigh.
“Not much like the boulevards! And if it were
not for her!”
At this moment his expression suddenly changed.
The lieutenant became grave, serious. A shadow
of melancholy seemed to veil his eyes. His imagina-
tion evoked an exquisite picture, intoxicating—a pic-
ture, the mere thought of which made his heart beat.
“For her,” he repeated. “Yes, it's just for her
that I came here.”
A sigh escaped him.
He recalled his efforts at the ministry to effect the
change from Paris to the less agreeable Lunéville.
Ah! the real joy, the gentle emotion he had felt
in establishing himself in the place where she lived
He spoke her name tenderly, a name which fitted
the wilful grace of her youth, the elegance of her
person, the piquant seduction of her figure: Colette.
It was for Colette, whom he loved above all
others, that the rich and young lieutenant came to
vegetate in this hole.


A TRAGIC APPEAL 25
And what wonderful luck it was had drawn him
to this sincere and pure love that now occupied his
whole heart. Colette. . . . She was everything to
him, and six months ago he did not even know her.
Chance selected him to be sent to the obscure village
where she lived, on a cartographic appointment.
Her father, M. Ravignon, a prosperous gentleman
farmer and important personage, happened to be
mayor of Cirey, and it was thus he made her ac-
quaintance. And since then, how quickly things had
moved l How thrilled he was the first time he
realized that Colette did not view him with indif-
ference.
And how much greater the thrill when he would
again meet her, she whom he called his “fiancée.”
And yet Louis Monet sighed.
To meet her—that would not be easy.
Since his arrival in Lunéville, the lieutenant
had not been able to get an hour's talk with
Colette.
Naturally he had called upon the mayor of Cirey.
He had also had the pleasure of bowing to Colette,
who became very white on learning that he was now
an officer of the 32nd dragoons. Still, Louis Monet
could not help noticing the chilly reception given
him by Colette's parents. He had been received;
he had not been asked to call again.
He had been treated as a friend, but amazement
was shown that he should have been transferred to
Lunéville.
“Certainly old Ravignon doesn't look favorably
on me,” he muttered.


26 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
This unpleasant fact depressed him for a moment
and then he shrugged his shoulders:
“After all, to the deuce with him. Colette loves
me. We will overcome his objections. Why
should he refuse his consent? I’m richer than his
daughter, I have a future, and if war should break
out. . . . War! Good lord ' These politicians are
a nuisance allowing things to drag along. If Ger-
many wants a beating, let her have it and be done
with it.”
Once more his expression changed.
Without doubt Louis Monet loved his profes-
sion. He loved it for its nobility and its unselfish-
ness. He loved it because to be a soldier is not to
belong to oneself; it is to be a man with a sin-
gle love, the greatest of all loves—love of coun-
try.
Ah! let the signal be given, let war be declared
and he will be ready!
Woe to the enemy, woe to Germanyl It would
be a holy mission to drive those robbers of ’70 be-
yond the frontiers of Alsace and Lorraine.
“But war is not coming, alas!” he added.
The papers bought at the station gave reassuring
116WS.
England was making every effort to force Ger-
many to a peaceful attitude. Austria no longer re-
fused to negotiate with Russia. St. Petersburg and
Vienna appeared to be in accord.
“So it can't be on account of war that the colonel
has recalled me. It was a private telegram I re-
ceived, not an official one.”


A TRAGIC APPEAL 27
And annoyed, worried at this unexpected return,
Louis Monet declared:
“I’ve nothing on my conscience either, no scrape,
no row, what the deuce can they want with me?”
He turned his head and glanced into the shadows
of the street.
At the extreme end, the cavalry barracks stretched
away with geometrical precision, the buildings all
alike, stables, storehouses, guardhouse.
“It looks peaceful and calm,” he admitted.
“If there was anything in the wind, inspection or
preparations for mobilization, I'd see some signs of
life.”
He threw away his cigarette half smoked, crossed
the room to choose some book to while away an
hour on his sofa.
Suddenly he listened.
The door of his apartment slammed and a voice
frightfully off the key began to sing:
Allons chasseurs, vite en selles,
Formez vos escadrons
Dites adieu a vos belles
Car demain nons partons
Tontaine, ton ton, Tontaine—Ton ton/
Louis Monet immediately shouted:
“La Flemme!”
A hulking big dragoon, helmet on one side, sabre
under his arm, and an enormous pipe in his month,
appeared in the doorway.
“Hullo!” he cried.
Furious, Louis Monet shouted:


28 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Where the devil do you come from? What
right have you to be away without leave? You'll
get a week for this.”
La Flemme smoked his pipe calmly.
“Lieutenant, where have you sprung from? Why
are you here?”
Louis Monet could not help smiling. “Atten-
tion l and stop smoking.”
“Can't, Lieutenant, can't let Josephine get cool or
she won't draw.”
La Flemme seemed in no wise disturbed by the
lieutenant's anger. He had an excellent reason, too,
for his calmness.
He had been Monet's orderly for five years and
the friendship he felt for the officer had been amply
returned.
If La Flemme took advantage of it occasionally
to be slack in his duties, Monet's threats of dire
punishment never amounted to anything in the
end.
Imperturbable, as usual, he continued to smoke
his pipe, continuing his questions.
“Why the devil are you here, Lieutenant?”
“No use staring at me like that,” replied the offi-
cer. “I was on furlough and I have returned.”
“I know that,” calmly answered La Flemme.
“You know it? Who told you?”
“Why, the colonel.”
“The colonell—How's that?”
La Flemme rubbed his eyes.
“It's quite simple, Lieutenant. The colonel said
to me just now, ‘La Flemme, you are Lieutenant


A TRAGIC APPEAL 29
|
Monet's orderly?’ ‘Yes,’ says I. “Then go to the
station and watch out for his return from Epinal.
When he gets in send him direct to me, however late
it may be. I shan't go to bed till I've seen him.’”
Louis Monet seemed astounded.
That such an order should be given to La Flemme
must mean the matter was serious.
But what could be the motive for recalling him
and for Colonel Bayen's anxiety to see him?
La Flemme was about to make suggestions but
the officer stopped him abruptly.
“Shut up, idiot. Give me my sabre and come with
me to the colonel.”
A moment later, Louis Monet, followed at a re-
spectful distance by La Flemme who grumbled at
being kept out of bed, walked down the street to the
colonel's quarters.
The sentry on duty saluted.
“Announce me,” ordered Monet.
As he entered the room his anxiety increased.
The study, usually in perfect order, seemed topsy-
turvy. Drawers were open showing piles of docu-
ments. In the fireplace bundles of paper were burn-
ing. But what most struck Louis Monet was the
attitude of Colonel Bayen.
He was extremely pale. Standing in front of the
fire, he stirred the burning papers. Upon seeing
Monet he murmured:
“At last.”
“Colonel, I beg you to excuse me. I might have
been here several minutes earlier if my orderly had
caught me at the station.”.
-


3o THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“It's of no importance, Lieutenant. I suppose
you wonder why I sent for you?”
“I am at your orders, Colonel.”
“I will enlighten you. Just a moment.”
The colonel opened the door.
“Sentry, send here the officer on duty.”
The call rang out on the bugle.
“One moment,” repeated Colonel Bayen. “I’ll
be with you in an instant. Above all, not a word of
this before the adjutant.”
Louis Monet became still more bewildered.
He felt some mystery in the air.
The adjutant appeared in haste.
“You sent for me, Colonel?”
“Yes, to give you an order. Take ten men, and
harness the five baggage wagons that are in the
courtyard. Get horses from B Stable. The guard
has been notified.”
The colonel turned away his face as though he
did not wish to see the adjutant's surprise.
“When the wagons are harnessed, gallop them
round the courtyard. It is a test I want to make.
I shall come down in a quarter of an hour. Go.”
Too well trained to venture a remark, the adju-
tant moved off.
But Louis Monet was on the point of asking him-
self if the colonel had taken leave of his senses.
To harness the wagons at such an hour ! To drive
them at full gallop round the courtyard ' It was in-
comprehensible, it was disturbing.
Coloney Bayen turned to him:
“A moment more and I will explain everything.”


A TRAGIC APPEAL 3 I
A profound silence reigned in the study.
While Monet waited patiently, the colonel opened
the windows wide; he then stamped down the cin-
ders of the burnt paper.
Several minutes passed. Then abruptly a noise
was heard. The wagons rumbled over the court-
yard with a loud rattle and the clanging of horses'
hoofs.
The colonel beckoned Monet to the windows.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Lieutenant.
I warrant you have no idea of what is going on?”
“No, Colonel.”
“You cannot guess why I brought out the
wagons?”
“No, Colonel.”
“And you think my actions rather strange? Well,
what I have to say to you is so serious that I had to
take precautions.”
The colonel paused a moment, leaned out and ex-
amined the progress of the wagons.
“Lieutenant, those wagons make a great deal of
noise. Do you know the advantage of that noise?”
Louis Monet was so amazed that he did not
anSWer.
The colonel continued:
“This noise will guarantee the privacy of our
interview. One might listen at the door, Lieuten-
ant, there might be a dictograph nearby, the very
walls may have ears, but in this racket I defy any
but you to hear what I have to say. You under-
stand?” -
“Colonel, I am most anxious to hear what you


32 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
have to confide to me. Have you a complaint to
make of me?”
“No, Lieutenant.”
“An order?”
“No, it is not an order.”
“What is it then, Colonel?”
The colonel seemed to hesitate. For a moment
he remained silent while his face contracted under
some terrible emotion.”
“It is an appeal I have to make,” Colonel Bayen
declared at last.
Louis Monet felt the ground slipping away; he
became dizzy.
“An appeal, Colonel? What appeal?”
Colonel Bayen drew near him and placed both
hands on his shoulders. He looked at Monet with
the eyes of a leader of men.
“Lieutenant, you are 26, you are young, you are
rich, the future opens brightly before you. Well,
you must give it all up. You must die, Lieutenant—
die shamefully, perhaps. In any case, without
glory. You must die because death is a duty—your
duty—”
Colonel Bayen pointed to the flag of the regiment
under its glass case, and the flag itself seemed to
live and glow under the words:
“Lieutenant, in the name of France, I appeal to
you to consent to die.”


III
IN DANGER OF DEATH
Cºl. staggered by the unexpected
declaration of Colonel Bayen, Louis Monet
could scarcely refrain from a gesture of alarm. To
die! Die for France—certainly that is what he had
decided a long while ago.
The young officer had often dreamed of the
glorious death of a soldier.
But the half-told confidences of the colonel had
already convinced him that it was a question of
something else.
A death “perhaps shameful” was what the chief
had said.
And this death was unquestionably a mysterious
One.
There was mystery in the way the colonel
broached the subject.
“Listen to me, Lieutenant, and upon your honor,
do not give a hasty reply. I repeat—what I have to
say is more than serious, more than terrible ! You
will have to bind yourself and you must not do so
lightly.”
Louis Monet grew slightly pale.
He stood staring at Colonel Bayen, literally drink-
ing in his words.
The colonel drew his attention to the extraor-
33


34 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
dinary method he had used to assure the “privacy of
the interview.”
“Above all, Lieutenant, I desire to call your at-
tention to this of which you must be thoroughly per-
suaded—nobody can know what I am saying to you,
nobody by any chance can overhear my words. You
agree with me?”
Louis Monet nodded.
It was, in fact, materially impossible to make out
what the colonel was saying. The wagons made
such a racket in the courtyard that Monet himself
had to stand by his ear to catch the words. Further-
more, nobody could be hidden near the two officers
who were leaning on the window sill.
The study was empty, that was sure.
“Colonel, I beg you to finish.”
“Not yet, Lieutenant. I have another thing to
call to your attention. I have appealed to you, Lieu-
tenant, because you are the richest and most popular
of all my young officers, also because I know you are
a bachelor. But I need some further information.”
The colonel's voice trembled a little.
“Is there any woman in your life?”
“No, Colonel.”
Louis Monet had answered instinctively. He
added:
“That is to say, I have no mistress.”
His hesitation did not escape the colonel, who
insisted:
“You love nobody?”
“Yes, Colonel, I have a fiancée.”
The colonel's face clouded over.


IN DANGER OF DEATH 35
“A fiancée? Truly a fiancée? Will you swear
it? A young girl worthy of every respect?”
“Of every respect, Colonel.”
“Well, you must cast that love out of your heart.”
Louis Monet folded his arms.
“That is impossible.”
“Monsieur, I ask you in the name of France!”
“Colonel, my country does not require, cannot re-
quire such a sacrifice I am ready to die, I am not
ready to cease loving the woman I love!”
The young lieutenant spoke with such feeling that
Colonel Bayen realized that it was not a question of
some passing affair, easy to terminate.
“Very well,” he said, at length. “I see you love
truly. In that case I can speak all the same.
I have a mission to give you, Lieutenant—a
serious mission, upon which may depend the fate
of the war.”
“Then you think we shall have war, Colonel?”
“War is not probable, Lieutenant—it is certainl"
“Certain, Colonel?” -
“Yes, Lieutenant. And it will be a horrible war.”
The colonel's voice again trembled, but he con-
trolled his emotion.
“Lieutenant, you know very little of me and I
have not much to tell you. However, this much you
must know: Twenty years ago, when I was attaché
at the Berlin embassy, I was the victim of a horrible
tragedy. The man you see before you now is a man
vowed to vengeance and devotion—”
Louis Monet, who did not understand, bowed.
“Lieutenant, chance, or rather circumstances, put


36 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
me in possession of a terrible secret, a secret which is
able to secure to France a victory over Germany.
For twenty years I have devoted myself to this. For
twenty years I have performed a prodigy. I have
kept alive—I have not been murdered—so that
when the hour strikes, I might save my country and
my vengeance.”
The colonel opened his dolman and took out a
yellow envelope which he gave to Louis Monet.
“Take this, hide it and listen to me.”
The officer thought for a moment, then continued
his strange instructions.
“Lieutenant, I said that for twenty years I have
run a daily risk of assassination. From the moment
this document is in your pocket, you yourself are in
danger. You will not have a moment's peace of
mind, a moment's confidence or rest. Every means
to kill you may be used. An accident one would not
dream of prepared by others; a duel, during which
a cut-throat will deliver a mortal blow by treachery;
poison you could not guard against; your revolver
may explode in your hand; you pass by a scaffolding
and a mason drops an implement on your head; in
crossing a river, the ferryman will capsize his boat.
Lieutenant, you will be alone against everybody. If
you should be suspected of possessing this document,
you will have against you a hundred thousand Ger-
man spies!”
Louis Monet was deeply impressed by the colo-
nel's words.
Although he had never been actively concerned
with espionage, he knew the terrible German organ-


IN DANGER OF DEATH 37
ization by hearsay and from having read a critical
study of it.
And will he now be tracked by these scoundrels in
the pay of William II?
“Colonel,” he replied in a voice he tried to make
firm, “it little matters what dangers I run in the serv-
ice of my country. This document will be delivered
to whom you designate.”
“That is not your mission, Lieutenant.”
“What is it then?”
“It is threefold, Lieutenant.”
The colonel spoke with difficulty. He weighed
each of his words with anxiety, fearful of saying
too much and not saying enough.
“Lieutenant, these are your orders—pardon,
what I beg you to do: In the first place you will hide
this document in a place only known to yourself,
confide it to somebody who cannot be suspected. Put
it where you can recover it if misfortune should over-
take you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Colonel, but—”
“Pardon— Then, upon official mobilization,
you will go to the strategic bridge of Vezouse. You
will walk up and down, keeping the closest lookout.
If anyone suspicious appears, do not hesitate, fire,
kill him.”
“But, Colonel—”
“Wait! Finally, when the bridge guard has been
reinforced by the territorials which will be sent with-
out delay, you will return here to quarters—and if I
should be dead—”
“Ah, Colonell”


38 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“If I should be dead, I repeat, you will get pos-
session of the document, you will open it and follow
the instructions which it contains.”
Louis Monet was going through an agony of
mind, his lips refused to emit a sound. How strange
were the colonel's instructions.
“Ah, I forgot one thing, Lieutenant. After my
death you had better call upon the second curate of
the church of Saint Jacques. Here is a note in which
I ask him to explain to you in detail the visit he made
me.”
This time Louis Monet could not restrain a cry
of amazement.
“But, Colonel, why speak in this way of your
death? Are you in danger?”
Colonel Bayen shrugged his shoulders.
“I run the risk of every man who holds a state
secret. I run the risk which you are going to run,
Lieutenant—that of being murdered, and at the
very time when I least expect it.”
He gave a strange laugh and continued:
“Ah, pardon, Lieutenant, as a matter of fact I
exaggerate. I shall not be killed without warning.
They have had the irony to do that—they sent a
confessor to me.”
The laugh faded from the colonel's face. His a f-
fected gaiety dropped.
“I owe you further explanations, Lieutenant. I
told you I singled you out because you are rich. But
riches are not a proof of honesty! But I had to take
into consideration that Germany would be willing
to pay millions for the paper you have in your


IN DANGER OF DEATH 39
pocket. I may add that if I give it to you instead of
sending it to the ministry, it is because it is too late
now to communicate with the ministry.”
“Too late, Colonel?”
“Yes, Monsieur, too late.”
On seeing the lieutenant's surprise, Colonel Bayen
explained further:
“A messenger would not reach his destination—
he would be killed on the way. If I should attempt
the journey I would fall before I reached the sta-
tion. As for letters, it is evident that they are read
in the ‘private office’—not one escapes observation.”
“But it is impossible, Colonel—German espionage
is powerfully organized, but—”
“German espionage dares everything and can ac-
complish everything! And as for this particular
document, they would stop at nothing, believe me.”
Louis Monet grew paler. He felt dizzy and
could scarcely take in what he heard.
Colonel Bayen insisted:
“You are in danger of death, Lieutenant, in ter-
rible danger. And yet I have done everything pos-
sible to prevent eavesdropping, so that not a soul
may suspect what has passed between us. You are
a witness that no one has overheard our talk?”
Monet glanced round the room and then out of
the window to the courtyard where the wagons were
still clattering.
“Yes, Colonel, no one can possibly have heard
what we are saying.”
“Consequently any indiscretion committed must
come from you.”


40 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Colonel, you may be sure—”
“I know, Lieutenant.”
He reassured the young officer by a look.
He had thoroughly investigated the patriotism of
Louis Monet. And he was not mistaken.
Louis Monet now felt the fever of war—that war
announced by Colonel Bayen, inevitable and certain.
Instinctively the young man straightened up, throw-
ing out his chest and raising his head.
He was in danger of death.
He had everything to fear—the unforeseen acci-
dent, the treachery of murder, hidden ambush, a
quarrel designed to lead to a duel.
He must fear everything and sacrifice everything
to the mission he had been given.
Very well, so be it. He accepted the struggle.
Perhaps his life would be the price of success,
but life mattered little in such an affair.
Louis Monet bowed to his chief.
“Colonel, a thousand thanks for the confidence
you have shown in me.”
Simply, Colonel Bayen wrung his hand.
“Good luck, Lieutenant. If–we should not meet
again you may know that I died like a brave man, a
victim to my duty.”
Louis Monet was choked with emotion. He
wished to speak but could not utter a word.
He was about to go when the colonel called him
back:
“An instant, Lieutenant. In such a case it is not
enough to be brave—you must also be clever, which
is harder for a soldier. Be sure that it will be


IN DANGER OF DEATH 4. I
known that I sent for you in haste and that I saw
you tonight. We must therefore have a pretext to
throw them off the scent. This pretext I have al-
ready spread in the town.”
“What is it, Colonel?”
“I have simply spread the report that you have
been gaming a bit too hard and this interview is to
reprimand you for your losses at the card table.”
The lieutenant smiled at this likely excuse, which
was also so untrue, as he rarely played.
After a moment's reflection, he said:
“Then I’d better drop in to the club now?”
“Certainly, Lieutenant.”
The colonel held out his hand.
“There is nothing more to be said, and in fact, in
future we had better avoid each other except during
hours of service. Good-by, Lieutenant, and good
luck. Either you or I will not go through it alive,
I made my sacrifice a long time ago. I hope you will
be the one to triumph.”
Without a word, too upset to reply, Louis Monet
started to go.
The colonel recalled him once more: -
“That I may have no regrets or scruples let me
be sure I have given you thorough warning. From
this minute you must beware of everything. You no
longer have the right to be yourself. You belong
to your mission—you belong to the country! And
that the country may be victorious, you must think
ceaselessly:
“‘Death is stalking me!' Go, Lieutenant.”
Louis Monet left the room.


IV
FACING CONTEMPT
Loºs MONET had scarcely closed the door of
the study, when he seemed to awake from some
nightmare and began to doubt the reality of
things.
Had he properly understood the words of his
chief?
Had not the colonel exaggerated the seriousness
of this mission he had been given P
“I am in danger of death,” repeated the lieu-
tenant.
But the defining of this certainty caused him a
feeling almost joyful.
Fear? Anxiety? These he did not experience.
He simply felt that pleasant fever which animates
soldiers when the hour of battle arrives.
But while he crossed the courtyard, fresh doubts
took possession of him.
He had not forgotten one of his instructions. He
knew that his first duty was to hide the precious doc-
ument confided to him. -
“I must hide it where nobody will think of search-
ing, but where it can be found if anything happens
to me.”
While he pondered this problem, another thought
came into his mind.
Colette |


FACING CONTEMPT 43
He did not fear for himself, but he feared for
her. Must he give up his love?
The young lieutenant, as in a dream, saw the
sweet face of her he loved so tenderly.
He recalled the tender meeting which led to what
he considered their engagement.
Colette! At first he only knew her beauty, her
slender figure and fair hair, which had intoxicated
him from the moment he met her. Then once dur-
ing a walk he had a chance to speak alone with her.
He felt her thrill to him. And finally, shortly be-
fore he went away, he burst out with his love and
tenderness.
To die would be nothing. But to give up Colette!
It seemed to Louis Monet that his heart would
break with pain.
He was in danger of death !
And a deep anger rose in him against the father
of the young girl, against Ravignon, a thick-headed
and obstinate peasant who declined an officer for a
son-in-law.
How could he manage to see Colette?
Ah, it would take more than a trifle to stop him.
He recalled a charming and mad arrangement
they had conceived during their last walk together.
Colette had picked a bouquet of flowers and had
given him half of it.
“Here, take it, and if ever you have need to see
me, if anything serious should happen in your life,
you have only to send me one of these flowers and I
shall understand—and that very evening I shall be
at the spot we are now—” -


44 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Louis Monet had smiled at this romantic tryst
proposed by Colette. He never expected to have the
need of meeting the young girl alone at midnight.
He had smiled then. Now he was deeply stirred.
What a strange coincidence that Colette should
have almost divined the tragic turn his life had
taken.
He reached the gate of the cavalry barracks.
He felt now as though he were leaving the last
place of safety and that once outside, he would be
exposed to the most dangerous risks of war.
He knocked with his sabre upon the guardroom
door.
“La Flemme !”
“Lieutenant?”
“Forward, march 1”
La Flemme rubbed his eyes, muttered, “They
won't let you sleep in peace,” and approached the
officer.
“What is it?”
“Come and I'll tell you.”
Louis Monet drew his orderly rapidly away from
the barracks.
The young man had recovered his self-possession.
He had calmed his nerves, over-excited a moment
before. He spoke, smiling and joking, in his usual
Inanner.
“La Flemme, open your ears and try to under-
stand me. You are a brute.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“You always try to do the least possible.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”


FACING CONTEMPT 45
“But at bottom you're a pretty decent sort.
That's why I'm going to ask you a favor.”
“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“It's rather a nasty job.”
“Hell! No job's nasty if it's for you.”
He spoke simply but with sincerity.
The lieutenant did not wish the matter to seem
important.
From his pocketbook he took a dried flower and
slipped it into an envelope.
“La Flemme, I'm going to give you a commis-
sion if you will swear to forget it after you have
done it.”
“All right, I swear, Lieutenant.”
“Hold on—it's pretty hard to fulfill and has to
be handled carefully.”
A broad smile spread over La Flemme's face.
“I’ll bet there's a woman in it.”
“You're right, La Flemme.”
“You have a dame then, Lieutenant?”
Louis Monet could not help smiling.
“La Flemme, try to understand me—and keep
your opinions to yourself. I haven't a ‘dame,’ as
you say. It concerns my fiancée.”
“Your fiancée? Are you going to be married?”
“Possibly—in any case, the matter is a serious
one.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“And you mustn't make any break.”
“Lieutenant, I know how to handle love affairs.”
“In that case, this is what you have to do: To-
morrow morning at daybreak you will saddle your


46 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
horse and you will go to Cirey. There, without
being seen, you must manage to give this dried flower
to Mlle. Ravignon.”
“To Mlle. Ravignon?”
La Flemme laughed as though pleased.
“Well, Lieutenant, I congratulate you. She's
devilish pretty and not in the least stuck up—only,
there's the old man.”
“La Flemme !”
“The old man who'll be your father-in-law. Say,
let me tell you something, Lieutenant. I can't
stomach him. To begin with he don't take to you—
the proof being that just now at the station—”
Louis Monet paled.
“Shut up, La Flemmel Take care!”
An automobile came down the street.
La Flemme gave one glance at it and began to
laugh.
“Why, there it goes. It's M'sieur Ravignon's car.
I told you I'd seen him at the station.”
Louis Monet had quickly turned into a side street,
to avoid being passed by the auto.
“La Flemme, you met M. Ravignon? Did you
speak to him?”
“Sure, I said, ‘howdy do.’”
“And then?”
“Nothing. He hardly answered me. I guess he
was after stamps for his collection.”
La Flemme chuckled.
“At his age 1 To collect stamps! He must be
cracked.”


FACING CONTEMPT 47
La Flemme began to laugh again, but Louis Mo-
net quickly stopped him:
“So you quite understand? You are to take this
flower to Mlle. Ravignon and then return here.”
“I swear to, Lieutenant.”
La Flemme offered his hand, then spat on the
ground to make his oath the more binding.
“Naturally the old man, nor the mother mustn't
get on to it. All right—don't worry—they won't.
What! Are you stopping at the club, Lieutenant?”
Louis Monet had come to a halt outside a small
clubhouse, with the pretentious name of “The Ele-
gants' Club,” frequented by officers and rich young
men of the town.
“Yes, I'll go up for five minutes. You are free
for the rest of the night, only I count on you tomor-
row morning at Cirey—and, above all, succeed at
any cost.”
Louis Monet could not explain to his orderly the
reason for his abrupt decision. He felt satisfied that
La Flemme would carry out his commission, that
Colette would receive the dried flower, and that he
would see her the following evening at midnight.
On entering the club he was met with a torrent
of questions.
“What! You!”
“Must have been recalled in a hurry!”
“Any news of the war?”
Before him stood a young man of twenty-three or
twenty-four, with folded arms.
“How about the wigging?”


48 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Louis Monet burst out laughing.
He guessed without trouble why his entrance had
made a sensation. Had he not announced his week's
furlough?
And Paul de Tersy's remark about the wigging
referred to the reprimand Colonel Bayen was sup-
posed to give him.
“Here I am, gentlemen, ashamed but not repent-
ant.”
He purposely exaggerated his pretended anger:
“Pretty tough, don't you think? One hasn't the
right to lose ten louis at baccarat now ! Upon my
soul Colonel Bayen must think he is in command of
school boys, not of dragoons!”
His words were greeted with laughter.
“What did you answer?”
“I suppose you swore to give up cards?”
Louis Monet, in pursuance of his rôle, drew up
a chair at one of the card tables.
“Gentlemen, I made no answer. But as I con-
sider myself free to do as I please when off duty,
here is my reply—I take the bank for twenty louis;
who will play with me?”
“That's right, Monet—they can't scare you.”
Paul de Tersy applauded loudly. He was an in-
veterate gambler. He did not live in Lunéville
proper, but owned a château not far from Cirey.
He appeared at the club regularly every evening.
An orphan and rich, he played with a recklessness
which would have earned him some notoriety in Paris
but which exposed him to criticism in the small pro-
vincial town,


FACING CONTEMPT
49
The table quickly filled with players and those
who did not play stood around watching the game
and offering criticisms.
“Colonel Bayen is an idiot. If he had called down
de Tersy one could understand it, but Louis Monet
rarely plays.”
Now the luck seemed to be with Monet this eve-
ning; he won bet after bet until de Tersy finally
rose.
“I’ve had enough. I've already dropped thirty
louis. Whose turn next?”
“Seems to bring you luck to be hauled over the
coals by the colonel.”
A business man sat down and announced:
“I’ll take the bank—twenty louis.”
He had scarcely finished speaking when de Tersy,
who had been examining the cards, gave a sharp
cry.
“Ah !"
And as the other players were about to take their
places, he added:
“One moment, gentlemen!”
“What is it? What's the matter?”
De Tersy did not reply at once—he continued to
examine the cards, an extraordinary smile on his
lips.
“It's very queer.”
“What is queer?” answered Monet, drawing near.
The young man pretended not to hear; he turned
his back to the officer, remarking:
“Luck is a vain word, but some know how to help
it. Then we call it cleverness—"
-
-
---
-
-
- -
-
-º


go THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
With a grim laugh, he tore the cards while the
players watched him, amazed.
“What's the matter with you, de Tersy?”
“I have lost thirty louis with marked cards.”
A hand touched his shoulder and swung him
round.
“What do you mean?”
De Tersy answered calmly:
“What I mean is that I have lost thirty louis play-
ing with marked cards.”
Louis Monet pressed harder:
“Do you accuse me of cheating?”
“My dear fellow, you can take it as you will. If
the cap fits, wear it. These gentlemen will under-
stand.”
He gathered the torn cards and showed unmis-
takable markings on them.
“What do you think of that?”
Had de Tersy seen Monet's eyes he would have
been very much afraid. -
The lieutenant had concentrated into his look all
the fury that was in his heart.
- There could be no mistake. He had taken the
previous bank. It was he whom de Tersy accused
of cheating.
A complete silence reigned in the room.
The club members stood around, unable to deny
the evidence. The cards had been marked.
That, however, did not prove the guilt of Louis
Monet.
“Well, gentlemen, what do you think of it?”
ºr V AN


FACING CONTEMPT 5 I
At this moment Monet suddenly remembered a
fact he had forgotten under the insult.
Had he the right to retaliate?
Ought he to accept or provoke a duel?
With acute suffering, he recalled the last words
of Colonel Bayen.
“You are in danger of death! Any pretext may
be used to kill you, either by crime, accident, or a
duel. You no longer belong to yourself, you belong
to France—you belong to your mission.”
Louis Monet made a supreme effort to avoid
taking de Tersy by the throat.
“All this is childish,” he replied at length. “I am
above suspicion. My only mistake was to play with
Monsieur de Tersy since he clings so hard to his
money.”
And while his words were received in chilly si-
lence, Louis Monet left the room and the clubhouse.
Ah! how shocking it was, this appearance of cow-
ardice!
And yet he had done right to leave.
He recognized this.
“Had I remained a second longer, I would have
struck him. A duel would have followed.”
A duel! Had he escaped one of the traps which
Colonel Bayen had warned him against? In that
case, de Tersy was a spy, a wretch in the pay of Ger-
many.
Louis Monet stopped.
This conclusion made him shrug his shoulders.
De Tersy a spy? It wasn't possible! De Tersy
lived at Cirey and was known to the Ravignon's.


$2 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Colette herself treated him as a friend, often played
tennis with him. . . .
This young man, rich and idle, could not follow
the wretched trade he accused him of.
“No, the quarrel had not been prearranged. How
could he have known that I was to be attacked? No-
body could have heard what Colonel Bayen said to
me / Consequently—”
A neighboring clock struck midnight.
“I’m crazy. There's no sense in walking about
this way. The first thing to do is to return home and
place the document in a safe place.”
Mechanically he felt his pocket. The document
was still there. For a moment he feared it might
have been stolen.
Again the shock of his apparent cowardice made
him start, and he kept repeating to himself:
“That's not worth a moment's thought. France
comes first, myself afterwards.”
A fine motto the unhappy officer had chosen.



V
COLETTE
THE cavalry barracks slept; it had not yet struck
four in the morning and reveille was still dis-
tant when La Flemme appeared before the sentries.
Naturally he was questioned.
“Where do you come from? What do you want?
Where's your permit?”
La Flemme, staggering slightly, did not propose
to be bothered.
“Where do I come from? Can't tell you. Where
I'm going—that's more important, and as to my
permit, you'd have to have pretty big spectacles to
see it.”
He then passed along, throwing behind him:
“Detailed to the cartography.”
That caused a laugh.
“Go on 1 You're as much detailed as I am,” cried
one man. “You wouldn't be so cocky if you weren't
the lieutenant's orderly.”
“Maybe so,” replied La Flemme, calmly, “but
then you see I am.”
He moved off, clanking his spurs and whistling a
military march.
La Flemme was not forgetting his commission,
but with his natural modesty, he worried a little over
the method of accomplishing it.
53


54 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
But his anxiety soon gave way to optimism.
“Bah! After all, I understand women. I'll talk
very politely to her and everything will be all right.”
La Flemme crossed the courtyard and entered the
stables, hailing the guard. -
The man quickly climbed out of a manger where
he was taking a nap against the regulations, and, ex-
pecting a punishment, he stammered: -
“Present, Lieutenant!”
La Flemme burst out laughing.
“That's all right. Only me.”
A few moments later he was trotting down the
highroad towards Cirey thinking how he might ac-
complish his mission. -
“For after all,” he thought, “it isn't enough to get
there. I've got to see the lady to give her the flower
—without being seen, too—without the father or
mother suspecting. That's not so easy.”
It seemed to him that his chances of seeing her
alone were mighty small.
“Have to prepare a plan first,” he growled.
He brought his horse to a walk and lit a cigarette.
Very soon he rubbed his hands.
“I have it,” he cried joyfully, and imitating an
officer's voice, he ordered:
“Prepare to chargel Chargel”
The same day that La Flemme was galloping to-
wards Cirey, M. Ravignon at ten o'clock in the
evening was seated at home, drinking his coffee
after a good dinner and preparing to spend a quiet
evening.
He was a thickset individual, about fifty, with


COLETTE 55
stubby hair and moustache, broad shoulders and
rough peasant manner.
He was, besides, a man of importance in Cirey,
who watched over the interests of the commune
with the same thoroughness he displayed towards
his own.
“Father Ravignon,” as he was called by the vil-
lage children, did not belong to Cirey. Fifteen years
before he had made his appearance there as a simple
workman, offering his services for the harvest. But
this simple workman knew how to save.
Two years later he bought land. This was the
beginning of his fortune, which grew constantly, by
fortunate speculations in the corn market, by ad-
vantageous deals with army contractors, by a series
of commercial operations in which he displayed a
marvelous ability—and the knowledge of a lawyer.
Rich and honored, Ravignon was considered one
of the most popular men in Cirey, even before his
election as mayor, a piece of good luck that had
crowned his life with success.
Of very simple tastes, he preferred to live in a
reconstructed farmhouse rather than build a new
dwelling, and this went by the name of “The Do-
main.”
Still, he knew how to make himself comfortable.
The bathroom he had installed was the talk of the
place, as were the dresses of his daughter, the ex-
quisite and pretty Colette.
Colette herself was considered as a living enigma.
Her extreme fairness, delicacy, and elegance had
won for her the nickname of “The Parisian.”
y


56 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Mme. Brigitte Ravignon was also alien to the
race of strong, heavily built country women.
For a number of years it was not known that
Ravignon was married until one day he announced in
the Café des Negociants:
“Well, I think I’ve saved up enough pennies to
bring here my wife and daughter.”
This produced a small-sized scandal.
People asked why he had hitherto concealed his
marriage. But when Brigitte and Colette arrived,
gossip finally ceased and the incident was forgotten.
It was known, or thought to be known, that Ra-
vignon was the son of Breton peasants. He was sup-
posed to have married, against his parents' wishes, a
maid from an inn at Rennes. Occasionally it was
whispered that perhaps Colette was not his daughter.
But Ravignon, powerful and rich, simply paid no
attention to these calumnies.
Although a thorough miser and absorbed in his
money, yet Ravignon had one real passion. He
collected postage stamps with a craze amounting
almost to madness.
He was at this moment occupied in placing in his
album a precious example of a rare San Domingo
issue. He glanced up, annoyed, as his study door
opened.
“Is that you, Brigitte?”
“Yes, master.”
Brigitte was a complete contrast to Ravignon, be-
ing slight and delicate in build, with white hair and
a look of constant fear in her eyes.
“What do you want?”


COLETTE 57
“I’m worried about Colette's health.”
Ravignon burst out, angrily, thumping the table
with his heavy fist.
“Colettel She's a little fool—that's my opinion.
And she'd feel as well as I do if she wouldn't waste
her time in ridiculous mooning. Besides, it's a bit
your fault, Brigitte. The child needs good advice,
but instead, you encourage her in her dreams. Ah!
very intelligent of you, I must say.”
Once started he did not stop.
“What's the matter now? Why hasn't de Tersy
been here?”
“Master, I think they've had a quarrel, so M. de
Tersy must have gone back to Lunéville.”
And then she added hesitatingly.
“He must have met Lieutenant Monet at Luné-
ville.”
“Lieutenant Monet! That worthless fellow ! Be-
cause he's rich he imagines he has the right to idle
his time away. For an officer in peace time has
nothing to do.”
Brigitte ventured timidly:
“But M. de Tersy—”
“M. de Tersy owns land. He is noble and a
friend of the farmer. His estate adjoins mine and
when he marries my child the boundaries will be
pulled down. Ah! “The Domain' will then be
worthy of its name—wide and broad.”
Brigitte again protested:
“When M. de Tersy marries your daughter. But
first Colette must be willing.”
“She'll agree, that I warrant.”


58 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Then she must cease loving Lieutenant Monet.”
Ravignon thumped the table again.
“I don't want to hear any more about that loafer.
And if he comes here again, I'll kick him out!”
Brigitte sighed, not daring to answer.
“Good night, master.”
“Good night, good night.”
Ravignon took up his magnifying glass and bent
over his stamps. His conscience was at peace.
Brigitte went noiselessly towards her room.
The poor woman was strangely upset.
Tears came to her eyes.
“Poor child,” she murmured.
As she passed Colette's door, a shaft of light
shone beneath it.
Mme. Ravignon opened the door.
“You are not asleep, Colette P”
“No, mother. It's such a beautiful evening I am
watching the stars.”
“And thinking of the man you love,” replied
Mme. Ravignon tenderly.
“Yes—that's true.”
“That soldier belonged to his regiment, didn't
he P”
“Yes, mother, the 32nd dragoons.”
“He didn't speak of him?”
“Oh, no, mother.”
“And you didn't send any message?”
“I didn't dare to.”
Mme. Ravignon smiled.
That afternoon, during Ravignon's absence an


COLETTE 59
incident, or rather an accident, had happened to ex-
cite the inhabitants of the farm.
A cavalryman of the 32nd dragoons who was
known to be the orderly of Louis Monet had fallen
from his horse just in front of the house.
He struggled to his feet, apparently half stunned
and uttering unintelligible words; finally he had
begged Colette and Mme. Ravignon insistently:
“Something to drink, my good ladies.”
He had been taken in and made to lie down and
not long afterwards he was able to leave, apparently
quite recovered.
“The soldier made me think of Louis Monet,”
sighed Mme. Ravignon, and she added as she kissed
Colette good night:
“I don't blame you, dear, for being true to the
man you love and I shall never blame you for hav-
ing chosen him.”
The good woman then went to bed, convinced
that she knew all the secret thoughts of her daughter.
What would she have said had she seen Colette,
left alone, take a dried flower from her breast and
fondly kiss it?


VI
LOYALTY
A" ten in the evening of the same day, Louis
Monet had the impression of waking from a
strange dream.
He had been wandering about for a long time,
watchful, with nerves on edge, and now suddenly
he became quiet and peaceful both in mind and in
body.
“Ah, upon my word, I've been imagining non-
sense for the past twenty-four hours.
“The colonel was exaggerating. Hang the dan-
ger—I’m going to see Colettel
“But will she keep the appointment? Will she
understand? Remembering her promise? The
urgent appeal that dried flower represents? And
even if she has understood, can she escape from her
home?”
Ah! he did not doubt her. He remembered too
well the deep sincerity in her tones when she
said:
“If ever you should be in danger or be passing
through a hard time, if you should ever need my
tenderness and love, don't hesitate. Send me one of
these flowers and I will come to you.”
The lieutenant reached one of the crossroads in
the woods on his way to Cirey and stopped. He
60


LOYALTY 61
tethered his horse by the bridle and began his wait.
And as the moments sped, he felt that tender happi-
ness which the approach of the loved one inspires.
After two good hours, a footfall made him start.
“It is she.”
And then a great fear struck him. Suppose she
had been followed. Suppose he had enticed her into
danger!
He hid behind a hedge, revolver in hand.
But his alarm was unnecessary.
It was Colette—Colette, alone and walking
timidly glancing right and left into the shadows.
He sprang toward her and gave a great cry of
love and gratitude.
“Colettel You? Oh, how good of you to come!”
He took her two hands, scarcely daring to touch
her lips. -
The young girl was trembling and on the verge
of collapsing.
“If you only knew,” she murmured. “If you only
knew how afraid I have been—when your orderly
pretending to be hurt, gave me your flower. You
are not ill? You are not in danger?”
Louis Monet, who had hoped to give up to love
these first moments so ardently longed for, and keep
silent as to his motive for coming, betrayed him-
self. -
Ah! It was not Colette alone he saw before him,
it was not only his sweetheart that he clasped in
his arms.
As he had done the evening before, he now ex-
perienced a strange hallucination.


62 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Colette, his heart, his love, she was much more,
she was Francel
He realized in a flash what it is that binds a man
so solidly to his country.
His country was the blessed land of the hearth.
His country was there where Colette lived.
Tremblingly he replied:
“Colette, I begged you to come because I had to
see you, because we swore to share our joys and our
sorrows, to hold our hopes and dangers in common.”
It would have been a surprising speech from the
lips of the brave lieutenant of dragoons had another
heard it, but Colette did not misunderstand his
words.
She guessed that a mystery lay hidden in them—a
serious and tragic mystery which sometimes passes
like a tornado over the lives of the most peaceful.
“What is it?”
“I cannot tell you.”
And as Colette betrayed a movement of surprise,
at his apparent lack of confidence, he continued:
“Colette, I have sworn on my honor to keep
silent.”
Colette realized that she had not the right to in-
sist further.
Timidly, she asked:
“And war? Shall we have war?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
“Soon P”
“Very soon.”
“And you will be among the first to go?”
“Without doubt—if I am still living.”


LOYALTY 63
“If you are still living? What do you mean?”
He avoided a direct reply, determined to keep his
oath of silence.
“Colette, you love France?”
She answered him in the words he had himself
imagined:
“France? Yes, France is she whom I love—
It is you.”
So she thought as he did, mingling as he had done
the idea of love and of country.
“Well, Colette, for France I must face a danger,
a terrible danger! And if I have sought this inter-
view tonight, it is that I might loyally and honestly
give you your liberty.”
He lowered his voice:
“You can no longer be my fiancée. It would be
cowardice on my part to hold you prisoner to your
promise. Colette, I have consented to die!”
Colette protested ardently:
“You have consented to die? But you have con-
sented to die for France. Do you think that makes
you less dear to me? Do you think that because
I risk becoming your widow I can give up my
love?”
Ah, what a brave soul lay hidden in this frail and
fragile young girl! What superb defiance of fa-
tality! -
“Your widow.” The word was a promise, an
oath of love.
“In speaking this way,” she continued, “you are
not only thinking of the war that may break out?”
“That is true, Colette.”


64 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“And this mission, is it important?”
“Very important, Colette.”
The gentle girl hesitated. She seemed almost to
guess a part of the tragic truth.
“To die is nothing,” she murmured. “To do
one's duty, that is what counts. Oh, if I could only
help you.”
She implored him:
“I beg you to be frank. Can I do nothing? Am
I to be debarred from helping?”
Louis Monet felt a strange agony of mind.
Ought he to reject such devotion? Had he the
right, on the contrary, to expose the woman he
loved?
He was afraid to make a decision.
Colette feverishly continued to beg.
“You hesitate, Louis. Don't you trust me?”
The lieutenant grew pale and trembling, at the
very thought of what he had to do—what he ought
to do. An echo of Colonel Bayen's words came to
his memory.
“You must hide this document where nobody can
find it—but where it can always be recovered. In
case of death, your mission would pass to the person
who survives, as I myself pass it on to you.”
Alas! the meaning of these words was unmis-
takable.
Who would dream of looking for the mysterious
and tragic document in the peaceful home of the
Ravignons?
What German spy would tear it from Colette's


LOYALTY 65
hands? And was not Colette the faithful friend,
devoted unto death to him and to France? But it
meant exposing Colette to the terrible vengeance of
the enemy.
Louis Monet cried:
“I won't, I won't!”
But Colette, by his side, still pleaded:
“For France.”
And he gave in. He knew in a flash the glorious
defeat of voluntary sacrifice.
Ah! What a strange love scene was this tragic
and painful interview
Louis Monet now took out the redoubtable yel-
low envelope.
“Colette, this document is of inestimable value—
my first duty is to preserve it. Nobody yet knows
that it is in my hands, therefore nobody can guess
that I place it in yours. If any misfortune should
happen to me you will receive from me the necessary
instructions. Colette, will you accept this charge?
Will you help me to keep it?”
Colette, quivering, had taken the envelope and
hidden it in her corsage.
“I will keep this document,” she said in a broken
voice, “as I keep the promise of your love.”
But he insisted further. There must be no pos-
sible mistake. Although it hurt to do so, he must
point out the danger of such a trust.
“Colette, they would kill me to get this document,
and they might kill you also. It is for France that I
ask it of you.”
.


66 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“And it is for France that I will second you—and
also because I love you.”
Louis Monet would have liked to express his love
and admiration, but the words would not come.
Alas! It was not the time for love.
He had to fight first, to conquer.
After would come the laurel of victory and the
perfume of kisses.
A silence between them was broken by Colette:
“When shall I see you again?”
He feared the future, but he had to answer:
“Will you ever see me again?”
Another silence, the silence of the hostile forest,
in whose heavy shadows it seemed that mystery
lurked, waiting for the dawn.
Colette held out her hand.
“Dear, I must leave you.”
Almost coldly he said good-by.
The shadows were not only around him, they were
within. He doubted whether he had done right.
But as Colette moved away, he rushed to her,
clasping her in his arms.
“Colette, I love you!”
“I love you,” she answered.
It was love's eternal duet.
“I shall love you always.”
“Always?”
“If I die, my last thought will be of you.”
“I don't want you to die.”
Triumphant, their love revolted against Destiny.
Colette, with a quick movement, escaped.


LOYALTY 67
“Go, go! Someone is coming!”
“Who? Nay, it isn't possible.”
“I’m sure of it! Do go! We mustn't be seen
together!”
“But I can't leave you alone!”
“It is not a question of me. You mustn't think of
me!”
She placed her hand over the document.
“Ah,” cried Monet, “what a sad parting!”
Then, yielding to her prayer, he plunged into a
by-path and ran to his horse.
A few moments later he started at full gallop as
though in flight.
In the meantime a young man suddenly appeared
before Colette, flashing a pocket lantern into her
face and bowing with a sarcastic smile.
“You ! Mademoiselle Ravignon? And alone?
Here in the woods ! At such an hour? I can't be-
lieve it.”
Paul de Tersy appeared in utter amazement.
But Colette played her part perfectly.
“Alas, it is I, and alone—and I shall be well
scolded if you tell on me.”
Paul de Tersy smiled again.
“I’ll hold my tongue,” he declared, “but if it is
not indiscreet, may I ask where you have been?”
“Oh, what curiosity,” she replied, adding: “You
might have guessed, I think. I've been to see my
friend Berthe. We've made a plan together to in-
duce father to take me to Lunéville on Sunday to the
prefect's garden party.”
A.


68 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Paul de Tersy continued to smile, and that smile
would have doubtless troubled Colette if she had
seen it.
She took his arm playfully: -
“Come as far as the house with me. I'll go in by
the side door.”
So arm in arm, like two comrades, they walked
down the road.
A 2^a


VII
A CASE OF CONSCIENCE
OR the tenth time at least, La Flemme, on tip-
toe, opened Louis Monet's bedroom door.
He grumbled to himself.
“The idea of still snoring at eleven in the morn-
ing!”
La Flemme, who would have slept until three in
the afternoon if allowed, thought it his duty to wake
his lieutenant.
His method of doing this was somewhat peculiar.
He began by calling:
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!”
But the sleeping man did not wake.
Louis Monet had reached home very late the
night before, and was now resting in a deep sleep.
La Flemme had an inspiration.
On the mantelpiece a vase filled with water
waited for the flowers it was to contain. La
Flemme, with his duster, gently knocked it to the
floor.
But this had no effect.
“Good lord! What a spree he must have been
on last night !” exclaimed La Flemme.
He next threw down a clock which fell with great
clatter.
Louis Monet continued to sleep.
69


70 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Then La Flemme lost his temper.
“I shall have to tickle his feet if this goes onl”
But another plan suggested itself.
By the wall stood a picture which Louis Monet
had not yet hung. La Flemme seized and flung it
on the bed.
This time Louis Monet woke with a start.
Furiously angry, he cried:
“Animall Brute! Idiot! You'll get a week
for this ſ”
La Flemme smiled amiably.
“I am doing the room, Lieutenant.”
Louis Monet now caught sight of the broken clock
and vase on the floor.
He sat up.
“Doing the room, clumsy. What's all that?”
“Débris, Lieutenant. I haven't swept yet.”
Nothing ever worried La Flemme.
“Débris | You're trying to make game of me.
You'll get a week for this.”
“All right,” replied La Flemme tranquilly. “One
and one make two.”
“And what's your idea of throwing pictures at
my head?”
“I didn't know you were there, Lieutenant.”
The lie was so prodigious, it quite disarmed Louis
Monet. He burst out laughing.
“You didn't know I was there? Why, you
idiot!”
“I thought you were at the quarters.”
“I’m not on duty today.
“Maybe, but the lieutenant colonel wants to see


A CASE OF CONSCIENCE 71
you in a hurry. That's why I have wakened you,
Lieutenant.”
“The lieutenant colonel? What for?”
He scented a fresh mystery.
“You’re not drunk? It isn't the colonel who
wishes to see me?”
“No, Lieutenant! The lieutenant colonel.”
“Well, get my things ready. I'll dress.”
An hour later, Louis Monet, out of breath from
a quick walk, presented himself at the cavalry
quarters.
He felt anxious and somewhat nervous.
What was he going to hear now? What had he
to fear? And above all what was he to do if the
lieutenant colonel gave him an order jeopardizing
his mission?
Scarcely had he appeared in the guardroom
when an orderly addressed him:
“Lieutenant.”
“What is it?”
“You are expected in the audience room.”
“All right, orderly.”
Louis Monet fancied that the man had slightly
smiled as he performed his commission.
Why?
Was it generally known that the lieutenant colonel
wanted to see him?
More and more uneasy Louis Monet presented
himself before his chief a few moments later.
The officer was reading a newspaper which he
threw aside with a movement of anger.
“Ah! there you are l Have you slept well?”


72 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Why—certainly—Colonel.”
“You are sober again?”
Louis Monet started.
What did this greeting mean? This scornful
tone and attitude?
“Sober again? I don't understand you, Colo-
nel.”
The officer rose, folding his arms and speaking
with sarcastic emphasis.
“Really? You don't understand me?”
“No, Colonel.”
“Do you deny being drunk yesterday and the day
before?”
Louis Monet answered dryly:
“Colonel, I'm not good at guessing puzzles.”
“Which means?”
“That I beg you to explain your insults.”
Louis Monet spoke with such force that the
colonel in his turn seemed surprised.
“Ah! You think I insult you by supposing you
drunk? I thought I was offering you an excuse.”
“An excuse? For what, Colonel?”
“For what you have done.”
Louis Monet completely lost his head.
“Good heavens ! What have I done?”
The lieutenant colonel took a step toward him.
“Lieutenant, some things are not done, and when
they are done, there is only one way of making rep-
aration. There are things which must be wiped out
with blood.”
“With blood?”
Louis Monet mechanically repeated the words.
TI A


A CASE OF CONSCIENCE 73
Was the lieutenant colonel crazy? What was
he talking about?
With the end of his riding whip the colonel picked
up one of the papers from the floor.
Scornfully he handed it to Louis Monet.
“Read that, Lieutenant.”
“What?”
“Head of the third column.”
Louis Monet searched for the article published in
a small local paper.
“Do you deny it?”
Louis Monet did not trouble to answer.
The letters danced before his eyes.
“A rather serious scandal has taken place at the
‘Elegants' Club.’ While playing with the honorable
gentleman farmer, M. Paul de Tersy, well known
in our district, an officer of the garrison, a lieutenant
of the 32nd dragoons, M. L. M., sufficiently des-
ignated by stating that he belongs to the cartographic
department, committed a deplorable mistake.
“Taken red-handed, convicted of using marked
cards, M. L. M. furthermore declined to fight. The
military authorities will doubtless take up the mat-
ter.”
Louis Monet not only understood the allusion,
he grasped the purpose and the spirit with which it
was written.
In that moment he suffered a thousand deaths.
To be publicly dishonored and when he was not
guilty. When, not only had he not cheated, but
when his refusal to fight had been occasioned by his
duty, which prohibited the duel.


74 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Shaken with anger, Louis Monet flung down the
paper.
“It's abominable !”
“Do you then deny it?”
“I should think I did l’”
The lieutenant colonel was impressed.
“Lieutenant,” he continued, somewhat less se-
verely, “I don't understand this story—all the pa-
pers in the town mention it. Come, we are alone.
Will you confide in me? Will you answer me as
though I were your father? Frankly, have you
done this? Yes or no?”
“What, Colonel?”
“This dishonorable action, cheated at cards?”
Louis Monet drew himself up.
“Colonel, on my word of honor, it is an out-
rage.”
“Ah, I'm glad of that. I believe you. So it is
a simple calumny. An attack by one of these rep-
tiles who would soil our uniforms?”
Louis Monet hesitated to answer.
A calumny? Alas! it was something quite dif-
ferent. It was much worse than a calumny, it was
a trick to push him to extremes. He realized the
sinister truth; Colonel Bayen had been right, he was
being tracked. They were trying to force him to
fight.
But suddenly Louis Monet revolted against this
suspicion. It couldn't be possible!
Nobody knew that he had been given the mission.
Nobody could be aware of it.
He hesitated to answer and the lieutenant colonel


A CASE OF CONSCIENCE 75
a moment ago convinced of his sincerity, noticed his
distress.
“Well, you don't answer? You mean that this is
a simple calumny?”
“Yes, Colonel, a simple calumny.”
He had scarcely spoken the words, when the offi-
cer thundered:
“Lieutenant Monet, if this is the truth, then I am
surprised that you are here !”
“Why, Colonel?”
“On reading that article you should have rushed
off in search of this Monsieur de Tersy. You, an
officer of dragoons! Do you not know how to deal
with liars l’’
The lieutenant colonel paced up and down:
“Well, are you silent? You don't stir. You
grow pale !”
Louis Monet had become livid.
What could he do? What could he answer?
Accept this duel that was being urged upon him?
Let himself be accused of cowardice?
In a changed voice, stammering, he answered:
“I cannot explain, Colonel but I respectfully beg
to ask the permission of Colonel Bayen.”
Alas! Louis Monet had to drain the cup to the
dregs.
“Colonel Bayen is absent—in any case he would
send you to fight.”
“I cannot fight, Colonel.”
“Why 7"
“Because—I cannot.”
A long silence ensued.


62 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Colette, his heart, his love, she was much more,
she was Francel
He realized in a flash what it is that binds a man
so solidly to his country.
His country was the blessed land of the hearth.
His country was there where Colette lived.
Tremblingly he replied:
“Colette, I begged you to come because I had to
see you, because we swore to share our joys and our
sorrows, to hold our hopes and dangers in common.”
It would have been a surprising speech from the
lips of the brave lieutenant of dragoons had another
heard it, but Colette did not misunderstand his
words.
She guessed that a mystery lay hidden in them—a
serious and tragic mystery which sometimes passes
like a tornado over the lives of the most peaceful.
“What is it?”
“I cannot tell you.”
And as Colette betrayed a movement of surprise,
at his apparent lack of confidence, he continued:
“Colette, I have sworn on my honor to keep
silent.”
Colette realized that she had not the right to in-
sist further.
Timidly, she asked:
“And war? Shall we have war?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
“Soon?”
“Very soon.”
“And you will be among the first to go?”
“Without doubt—if I am still living.”


LOYALTY 63
“If you are still living? What do you mean?”
He avoided a direct reply, determined to keep his
oath of silence.
“Colette, you love France?”
She answered him in the words he had himself
imagined:
“France? Yes, France is she whom I love—
It is you.”
So she thought as he did, mingling as he had done
the idea of love and of country.
“Well, Colette, for France I must face a danger,
a terrible danger! And if I have sought this inter-
view tonight, it is that I might loyally and honestly
give you your liberty.”
He lowered his voice:
“You can no longer be my fiancée. It would be
cowardice on my part to hold you prisoner to your
promise. Colette, I have consented to die!”
Colette protested ardently:
“You have consented to die? But you have con-
sented to die for France. Do you think that makes
you less dear to me? Do you think that because
I risk becoming your widow I can give up my
love?”
Ah, what a brave soul lay hidden in this frail and
fragile young girl! What superb defiance of fa-
tality! -
“Your widow.” The word was a promise, an
oath of love.
“In speaking this way,” she continued, “you are
not only thinking of the war that may break out?”
“That is true, Colette.”


64 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“And this mission, is it important?”
“Very important, Colette.”
The gentle girl hesitated. She seemed almost to
guess a part of the tragic truth.
“To die is nothing,” she murmured. “To do
one's duty, that is what counts. Oh, if I could only
help you.”
She implored him:
“I beg you to be frank. Can I do nothing? Am
I to be debarred from helping?”
Louis Monet felt a strange agony of mind.
Ought he to reject such devotion? Had he the
right, on the contrary, to expose the woman he
loved?
He was afraid to make a decision.
Colette feverishly continued to beg.
“You hesitate, Louis. Don't you trust me?”
The lieutenant grew pale and trembling, at the
very thought of what he had to do—what he ought
to do. An echo of Colonel Bayen's words came to
his memory.
“You must hide this document where nobody can
find it—but where it can always be recovered. In
case of death, your mission would pass to the person
who survives, as I myself pass it on to you.”
Alas! the meaning of these words was unmis-
takable.
Who would dream of looking for the mysterious
and tragic document in the peaceful home of the
Ravignons?
What German spy would tear it from Colette's


LOYALTY 65
hands? And was not Colette the faithful friend,
devoted unto death to him and to France? But it
meant exposing Colette to the terrible vengeance of
the enemy.
Louis Monet cried:
“I won't, I won't!”
But Colette, by his side, still pleaded:
“For France.”
And he gave in. He knew in a flash the glorious
defeat of voluntary sacrifice.
Ah! What a strange love scene was this tragic
and painful interview!
Louis Monet now took out the redoubtable yel-
low envelope.
“Colette, this document is of inestimable value—
my first duty is to preserve it. Nobody yet knows
that it is in my hands, therefore nobody can guess
that I place it in yours. If any misfortune should
happen to me you will receive from me the necessary
instructions. Colette, will you accept this charge?
Will you help me to keep it?”
Colette, quivering, had taken the envelope and
hidden it in her corsage.
“I will keep this document,” she said in a broken
voice, “as I keep the promise of your love.”
But he insisted further. There must be no pos-
sible mistake. Although it hurt to do so, he must
point out the danger of such a trust.
“Colette, they would kill me to get this document,
and they might kill you also. It is for France that I
ask it of you.”


66 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“And it is for France that I will second you—and
also because I love you.”
Louis Monet would have liked to express his love
and admiration, but the words would not come.
Alas! It was not the time for love.
He had to fight first, to conquer.
After would come the laurel of victory and the
perfume of kisses.
A silence between them was broken by Colette:
“When shall I see you again?”
He feared the future, but he had to answer:
“Will you ever see me again?”
Another silence, the silence of the hostile forest,
in whose heavy shadows it seemed that mystery
lurked, waiting for the dawn.
Colette held out her hand.
“Dear, I must leave you.”
Almost coldly he said good-by.
The shadows were not only around him, they were
within. He doubted whether he had done right.
But as Colette moved away, he rushed to her,
clasping her in his arms.
“Colette, I love you!”
“I love you,” she answered.
It was love's eternal duet.
“I shall love you always.”
“Always?”
“If I die, my last thought will be of you.”
“I don't want you to die.”
Triumphant, their love revolted against Destiny.
Colette, with a quick movement, escaped.


LOYALTY 67
“Go, go! Someone is coming!”
“Who? Nay, it isn't possible.”
“I’m sure of it! Do go! We mustn't be seen
together!”
“But I can't leave you alone!”
“It is not a question of me. You mustn't think of
me!”
She placed her hand over the document.
“Ah,” cried Monet, “what a sad parting!”
Then, yielding to her prayer, he plunged into a
by-path and ran to his horse.
A few moments later he started at full gallop as
though in flight.
In the meantime a young man suddenly appeared
before Colette, flashing a pocket lantern into her
face and bowing with a sarcastic smile.
“You ! Mademoiselle Ravignon? And alone?
Here in the woods ! At such an hour? I can't be-
lieve it.”
Paul de Tersy appeared in utter amazement.
But Colette played her part perfectly.
“Alas, it is I, and alone—and I shall be well
scolded if you tell on me.”
Paul de Tersy smiled again.
“I’ll hold my tongue,” he declared, “but if it is
not indiscreet, may I ask where you have been?”
“Oh, what curiosity,” she replied, adding: “You
might have guessed, I think. I've been to see my
friend Berthe. We've made a plan together to in-
duce father to take me to Lunéville on Sunday to the
prefect's garden party.”
*


68 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Paul de Tersy continued to smile, and that smile
would have doubtless troubled Colette if she had
seen it.
She took his arm playfully: -
“Come as far as the house with me. I'll go in by
the side door.”
So arm in arm, like two comrades, they walked
down the road.


VII
A CASE OF CONSCIENCE
OR the tenth time at least, La Flemme, on tip-
toe, opened Louis Monet's bedroom door.
He grumbled to himself.
“The idea of still snoring at eleven in the morn-
ing!”
La Flemme, who would have slept until three in
the afternoon if allowed, thought it his duty to wake
his lieutenant.
His method of doing this was somewhat peculiar.
He began by calling:
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!”
But the sleeping man did not wake.
Louis Monet had reached home very late the
night before, and was now resting in a deep sleep.
La Flemme had an inspiration.
On the mantelpiece a vase filled with water
waited for the flowers it was to contain. La
Flemme, with his duster, gently knocked it to the
floor.
But this had no effect.
“Good lord ' What a spree he must have been
on last night!” exclaimed La Flemme.
He next threw down a clock which fell with great
clatter.
Louis Monet continued to sleep.
69


A CASE OF CONSCIENCE 71
you in a hurry. That's why I have wakened you,
Lieutenant.”
“The lieutenant colonel? What for?”
He scented a fresh mystery.
“You’re not drunk? It isn't the colonel who
wishes to see me?”
“No, Lieutenant! The lieutenant colonel.”
“Well, get my things ready. I'll dress.”
An hour later, Louis Monet, out of breath from
a quick walk, presented himself at the cavalry
quarters.
He felt anxious and somewhat nervous.
What was he going to hear now? What had he
to fear? And above all what was he to do if the
lieutenant colonel gave him an order jeopardizing
his mission?
Scarcely had he appeared in the guardroom
when an orderly addressed him:
“Lieutenant.”
“What is it?”
“You are expected in the audience room.”
“All right, orderly.” -
Louis Monet fancied that the man had slightly
smiled as he performed his commission.
Why?
Was it generally known that the lieutenant colonel
wanted to see him?
More and more uneasy Louis Monet presented
himself before his chief a few moments later.
The officer was reading a newspaper which he
threw aside with a movement of anger.
“Ah! there you are Have you slept well?”


A CASE OF CONSCIENCE 73
Was the lieutenant colonel crazy? What was
he talking about?
With the end of his riding whip the colonel picked
up one of the papers from the floor.
Scornfully he handed it to Louis Monet.
“Read that, Lieutenant.”
“What?”
“Head of the third column.”
Louis Monet searched for the article published in
a small local paper.
“Do you deny it?”
Louis Monet did not trouble to answer.
The letters danced before his eyes.
“A rather serious scandal has taken place at the
‘Elegants' Club.’ While playing with the honorable
gentleman farmer, M. Paul de Tersy, well known
in our district, an officer of the garrison, a lieutenant
of the 32nd dragoons, M. L. M., sufficiently des-
ignated by stating that he belongs to the cartographic
department, committed a deplorable mistake.
“Taken red-handed, convicted of using marked
cards, M. L. M. furthermore declined to fight. The
military authorities will doubtless take up the mat-
ter.”
Louis Monet not only understood the allusion,
he grasped the purpose and the spirit with which it
was written.
In that moment he suffered a thousand deaths.
To be publicly dishonored and when he was not
guilty. When, not only had he not cheated, but
when his refusal to fight had been occasioned by his
duty, which prohibited the duel.


74 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Shaken with anger, Louis Monet flung down the
paper.
“It's abominable !”
“Do you then deny it?”
“I should think I did l’’
The lieutenant colonel was impressed.
“Lieutenant,” he continued, somewhat less se-
verely, “I don't understand this story—all the pa-
pers in the town mention it. Come, we are alone.
Will you confide in me? Will you answer me as
though I were your father? Frankly, have you
done this? Yes or no?”
“What, Colonel?”
“This dishonorable action, cheated at cards?”
Louis Monet drew himself up.
“Colonel, on my word of honor, it is an out-
rage.”
“Ah, I'm glad of that. I believe you. So it is
a simple calumny. An attack by one of these rep-
tiles who would soil our uniforms?”
Louis Monet hesitated to answer.
A calumny? Alas! it was something quite dif-
ferent. It was much worse than a calumny, it was
a trick to push him to extremes. He realized the
sinister truth; Colonel Bayen had been right, he was
being tracked. They were trying to force him to
fight.
But suddenly Louis Monet revolted against this
suspicion. It couldn't be possible l
Nobody knew that he had been given the mission.
Nobody could be aware of it.
He hesitated to answer and the lieutenant colonel


A CASE OF CONSCIENCE 75
a moment ago convinced of his sincerity, noticed his
distress.
“Well, you don't answer? You mean that this is
a simple calumny?”
“Yes, Colonel, a simple calumny.”
He had scarcely spoken the words, when the offi-
cer thundered:
“Lieutenant Monet, if this is the truth, then I am
surprised that you are here !”
“Why, Colonel?”
“On reading that article you should have rushed
off in search of this Monsieur de Tersy. You, an
officer of dragoons! Do you not know how to deal
with liars I”
The lieutenant colonel paced up and down:
“Well, are you silent? You don't stir. You
grow pale !”
Louis Monet had become livid.
What could he do? What could he answer?
Accept this duel that was being urged upon him?
Let himself be accused of cowardice?
In a changed voice, stammering, he answered:
“I cannot explain, Colonel but I respectfully beg
to ask the permission of Colonel Bayen.”
Alas! Louis Monet had to drain the cup to the
dregs.
“Colonel Bayen is absent—in any case he would
send you to fight.”
“I cannot fight, Colonel.”
“Why 7"
“Because—I cannot.”
A long silence ensued.


76 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
By a supreme effort of will Louis Monet remained
rigid, in an attitude of disciplined respect. From
the pallor of his face he seemed more dead than
alive.
The lieutenant colonel stopped abruptly:
“Lieutenant, you will return to your rooms. I
shall take no decision until the return of Colonel
Bayen—since you appeal to his authority. But I
cannot hide my surprise. Go, Monsieur. Con-
sider yourself under arrest.”
“Very good, Colonel.”
Louis Monet saluted and went out.
In the street he walked like a drunken man.
The blow was terrible—the worst that an officer
and a brave man could receive.
“I am doing my duty, and I let myself be treated
as a coward. It is horrible.”
And other thoughts came to add to his misery.
Colette would read the papers. And did she not
know this Paul de Tersy 2 The young girl, like the
others, would take him for a wretched coward.
And again, what did Colonel Bayen's absence
mean?
While war seemed to be more and more immi-
nent it was unbelievable that the father of the regi-
ment should have left town.
Might not his departure have something to do
with the terrible mission he had entrusted to Louis
Monet?
But another question occupied the young man. It
obsessed him, it haunted him.


A CASE OF CONSCIENCE 77
“There are but two hypotheses, and one of them
only can be the right one.
“Has this shameful accusation to do with my
mission or has it no connection with the yellow
document that I gave to Colette?”
Louis Monet returned home under arrest in a
distressing bewilderment of feelings.
La Flemme questioned him jokingly.
“Well, Lieutenant, did you get a calling down?”
But Louis Monet gave him a look which quickly
silenced him.
“Leave me,” he ordered, “leave me alone until
I call you.”
“All right, I understand.”
Now at six in the evening while Louis Monet was
lying on his sofa in an agony of mind he heard two
gentle raps at his door.
He sprang up and cried:
“Come in 1”
La Flemme put his head in.
“I told you to leave me alone.”
But La Flemme's face expressed such excitement,
that the lieutenant questioned him:
“What is it? What do you want?”
“Lieutenant, it's war! We are mobilizing!”
Louis Monet seized his orderly by the arms.
“War! You are sure? Is it official?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“La Flemme, I am under arrest—and I must go
out—at any cost! Go and find the lieutenant col-
onel—if you have to force your way in. Say to him:


78 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“By everything you hold sacred, Lieutenant Louis
Monet asks a day's leave.’”
Ten minutes later La Flemme ran at full speed
towards the cavalry quarters, muttering:
“Good God!—It's enough to send a man crazy.
What's got into the lieutenant? If only the lieuten-
ant colonel will see me.”
Meanwhile Louis Monet paced up and down his
room like a wild animal in a cage. -
He repeated to himself Colonel Bayen's last
words.
“Immediately mobilization is official, you will go
to the strategic bridge of Vezouse. You will go
there at any cost, and in spite of whatever orders
you may receive from your superiors.”
And, terrified at the thought of what he might
have to dare, Louis Monet sighed:
“If only the lieutenant colonel gives me permis-
sion.”


VIII
FRANCE COMES FIRST
TWENTY minutes later a heavy footstep shook
the stairs and a door banged violently.
La Flemme, in spite of his lazy tendencies, had
hurried. He returned out of breath and perspiring.
“Well?”
“Well, there's a fine mix-up,” panted La Flemme.
“Everybody's up in the air—organizing, packing.
It's no joke, I can tell you.”
Louis Monet ground his teeth impatiently.
“I don't care about that. What did the lieutenant
colonel say?”
“The lieutenant colonel? Nothing—but he
swore like a truck driver—and then he wrote some-
thing on a card.”
“For me?”
“I guess so—it wasn't for the pope.”
La Flemme unbuttoned his dolman and took out
a visiting card in an envelope with some lines writ-
ten upon it.
Louis Monet shook with anxiety.
His fate was about to be decided. What had his
chief said? He could scarcely make out the words,
but finally he deciphered the order.
The lieutenant colonel had simply written this:
“If you want leave for the purpose of fighting, I

79


30 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
grant it. If it is for any other motive, I refuse per-
mission.”
The following words were underscored:
“Mobilization is official. In the absence of Colo-
nel Bayen, I prefer to be minus an officer than to
have a coward in my regiment.”
Louis Monet collapsed on the sofa as though he
had been shot.
“It's horrible !” he muttered.
Mobilization was official.
War was about to begin—a war of revenge—a
war to the death between Germany and France, the
eternal enemies.
And he was under arrest on parole l
His honor obliged him to keep to his rooms to
wait for the orders of his chief.
At the same time he knew that he ought to set
out for the strategic bridge of Vezouse without a mo-
ment's waste of time to begin the work he had been
entrusted with, upon which might depend the fate
of the campaign.
“If I break my parole, I shall be dishonored,”
he muttered, “and if I remain faithful to it and a
prisoner here, I shall fail in my mission.”
And then suddenly, he saw his duty clearly.
Of what value was this absurd thing called con-
ventional honor?
To fail in honor because he broke his parole in
such circumstances ! Absurdl He called La
Flemme.
The orderly, who had withdrawn, worried by the
lieutenant's manner, presented himself.


82 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
In truth, the officer had a strange repugnance
for the part he was to play.
Like all Frenchmen he disliked any work con-
nected with espionage.
And what was this work to be?
What was he to do when he found himself upon
the bridge?
“You are to watch,” said Colonel Bayen, “and
you are to kill without hesitation, anyone who ap-
proaches in a suspicious manner.”
Louis Monet could not help a shudder in recalling
this strange command.
He knew the Vezouse bridge very well. It had
been built by the engineers, and it was said
had a close connection with special mobilization
plans.
Was it only on account of its strategic value that
he was to guard it?
Louis Monet thought:
“One might suppose that Colonel Bayen sent me
there for the sole purpose of letting me kill a Ger-
man spy.”
Another thought struck him.
Colonel Bayen was absent.
He was not at Lunéville.
Where was he?
On the Vezouse bridge, of course!
And this hypothesis seemed very likely.
Foreseeing mobilization, it was not improbable
that Colonel Bayen himself had gone to take a look
at the bridge.
{{


FRANCE COMES FIRST 83
Monet had still several miles to go. He hurried
on, jumping the hedges and ditches.
How charming the country looked in the failing
light.
Who would guess the approaching horror, which
doubtless would cover the country with blood?
War! It was certain, almost declared.
Monet quivered with joy.
Something expanded within him—the pride of
youth, pride of his profession, the joy of duty to ac-
complish.
He laughed at his former scruples.
He complained of having to do spy work as if any
work was vile which served the country!
Suddenly he came to a halt. A cry escaped his
lips:
“Good God! Too late l”
What was happening?
The peace of the evening had been broken by a
report, followed by faint explosions.
Louis Monet instinctively guessed:
“The bridgel The bridgel”
Forgetting his weariness and the advice of Colo-
nel Bayen to be prudent, he rushed headlong like
a madman.
“Ah, the scoundrels' German espionage was
capable of everything. Only a few hours ago mo-
bilization had been decided upon and already hos-
tilities had begun.”
When he reached the top of the hill and came in
view of Vezouse a cry escaped him.


84 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
He had not been deceived.
A mine had blown up the strategic bridge.
Débris and a thick dust filled the air, together
with the acrid smell of gunpowder.
Not a living soul was to be seen.
The lieutenant shook his fist in impotent rage
against the cowardly and invisible enemy.
At ten o'clock La Flemme was beginning to be
seriously alarmed when a rap on the door announced
the return of Louis Monet.
“You, Lieutenant,” cried La Flemme as he let
him in.
Louis Monet was pale and exhausted. His torn
clothes and muddy boots gave evidence of his long
search along the banks on the Vezouse for the
scoundrelly author of the catastrophe. He dropped
on to his sofa and then for the first time remarked
the pallor of La Flemme's face.
“What's the matter,” he cried, “what has hap-
pened?”
“Lieutenant, have you heard the news?”
“Good lord, no! What is it?”
“Colonel Bayen has been murdered.”
“Colonel Bayenl"
“His clothes were found covered with blood and
with a bullet hole through them. He had been shot
through the heart.”
Overwhelmed, Louis Monet bowed his head.
Presently, however, a new feeling asserted it-
self.
Colonel Bayen had fallen. Very well. His
death had been foreseen. The soldier for a long


FRANCE COMES FIRST 85
time had made his sacrifice. And was not he there,
his substitute, ready to continue the work, ready to
avenge him?
But at this moment, he met La Flemme's eyes and
read in them further news.
Louis Monet felt instinctively that he had some-
thing horrible to learn.
“Well, what else is there?”
“Lieutenant, I daren't tell you.”
“Why not? Speak!”
La Flemme stood against the door of the room
as though to bar the way to his officer.
“Lieutenant, to begin with, I must ask you to have
confidence in me—that I have no hesitation—that I
know it isn't true, and above all, that there is nothing
I wouldn't do for you.”
La Flemme stammered out his protestations of
devotion.
Louis Monet, not understanding, repeated:
“Speak!”
Then La Flemme in a low tone explained the hor-
rible thing.
“You see, Lieutenant, it's this way. When the
death of the colonel was known, why it made a big
stir. Well I was about to return here when the
lieutenant colonel ordered me to wait for him.”
“And then P”
“The lieutenant colonel came here.”
Louis Monet shrugged his shoulders. What did
a broken parole matter? He was indeed above the
opinion of the lieutenant colonel. The drama of his
secret mission, of which he was henceforth to carry


86 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
the burden alone, made him indifferent to smaller
matterS.
“Well, he came here and didn't find me—what
then?”
“Then—then—”
Louis Monet seized him by the arm and shook
him violently:
“Go ahead! What else?”
“Afterwards something extraordinary happened.
When the lieutenant colonel and I arrived here, do
you know what we found? Your uniform—No. 2
—on the floor and your revolver on the sofal Yes,
your service revolver—the one you asked for be-
fore going out and which I thought was at the quar-
ters.”
Louis stared in amazement.
The lieutenant did not yet understand what his
orderly was driving at.
He could not gather his wits together. He spoke
almost calmly:
“Well, what does that prove?”
The orderly declared briefly:
“Seems that a shot had been fired from your re-
volver—and besides, your uniform was covered with
mud like the mud on the banks of the Vezouse—
and it's on the banks of the Vezouse that the col-
onel's effects were found—it's supposed that his body
must have been thrown into the water—so-”
This time Louis Monet understood.
“It can't be possible,” he cried, shaking with an-
ger. “They don't believe that!”


88 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
And now when from one end of the country to
the other there would be a fever of mobilization,
could he expect to get quick justice?
And then he grew pale as the truth dawned on
him, clear and precise without the consolation of any
doubt.
In a flash he saw the whole terrible intrigue which
had unfolded during the past days.
Himself menaced, and in fear of not accomplish-
ing his mission, Colonel Bayen had confided his
tragic secret to him, had charged him with safeguard-
ing the official document.
And then the German espionage had got to work.
The adventure at the Elegants' Club had been
arranged to dishonor him.
To prevent his presence at the Vezouse bridge,
the papers had been made to publish his cowardice,
and he had been placed under arrest.
Then Colonel Bayen had fallen, a victim to his
duty. And as the authorities required a guilty man,
he had been chosen for the purpose.
Ah! the monstrous power of German espionagel
It was known that he was hastening to the
Vezouse bridge and it had been blown up before
his arrival.
It was known that he had left his rooms and dur-
ing his absence they had left there a uniform similar
to his and covered with mud—and his revolver with
one shot missing.
The plan was so simple, so marvelous, and so
tragic in its consequences.


FRANCE COMES FIRST 89
Naturally the military authorities could not be
mistaken.
He would be arrested, locked up.
And at the very moment when seconds were worth
years l When he had to recover the famous docu-
ment and its instructions upon which the issue of the
campaign depended.
Quick action was necessary; he must find some way
of tricking the German espionage.
Louis Monet leaned on the table, his head in
his hands, and reflected:
“To begin with, I must get back the mysterious
document and to do that I must dodge the German
spies.
“If I should die my mission would be lost.”
And who were these spies who seemed to be so
perfectly informed?
How could they have organized the adventure of
the Elegants' Club twenty minutes after Colonel
Bayen had spoken during the noise of the galloping
horses?
Once more the name of de Tersy came to his lips.
Many things seemed to point to him, but many
others to his innocence.
Besides, how could de Tersy be in the confidence
of the German espionage?
With a gesture of indifference and rage, he mut-
tered:
“No matter who the man is, I must get back the
document for which Colonel Bayen died.”
He turned to La Flemme.


90 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Listen, terrible things are happºing, La
Flemme, which I cannot explain to you- Have WOu
confidence in me?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” --
“And are you willing to die for France:
“That goes without saying, Lieutenant-
“Very well, then make haste—”
Louis Monet drew the orderly acros; the small
apartment, repeating the phrase he had made his
motto:
“France comes first! Myself afterwards.
“All for the country—for the war of revenge.”


IX
A MYSTERIOUS PHOTOGRAPH
“WHERE are they? Do you see them?”
“They are just below, Lieutenant.”
“Who commands them?”
“I can't see very well, but I think it's the captain
of the 3rd squadron.”
“Very well. Step back and listen.”
Five minutes went by and the plight of the un-
fortunate lieutenant seemed worse than ever.
Louis Monet had not been deceived when he
thought he heard the sound of a patrol in the street.
As La Flemme had said, one of the soldiers left on
guard had hastened to give the alarm that the sup-
posed murderer of Colonel Bayen had returned.
Immediately a mounted guard had been sent and
stationed outside the building.
“Lieutenant, they are knocking.”
“Are they all coming in?”
“No, two remain outside.”
“All right—we'll manage in spite of them.”
The young man, at this moment, seemed ready
for the most desperate measures.
He had no scruples left.
Since the German espionage was trying to crush
him in such a terrible manner, he would accept the
challenge—even with joy—calm, now that the strug-
gle was inevitable.
9I


92 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“La Flemme, listen well to me.”
The orderly was visibly trembling.
“They are coming up, Lieutenant. You can hear
their feet on the stairs.”
Louis Monet shrugged his shoulders.
“We have still five minutes, it will take that time
to break in the door.”
Did the lieutenant intend to revolt against mil-
itary authority?
“La Flemme,” continued Monet, “I can't explain
to you what is happening. The situation is very sim-
ple—either you believe in me or you think me a
scoundrel.”
“I believe,” interrupted La Flemme, “what
next?” -
“Next, I'm going to ask you to go to the quar-
ters—yes—by and by—try to find out what the
orders are—where the regiment is going—if .
anything further has been heard about Colonel
Bayen.”
“Right! And afterwards?”
“Afterwards—you will rejoin me.”
“The devil! Where !”
“I’ll wait for you in the sand quarry just outside
Lunéville on the Epinal road—you know it?”
“Yes—but—”
“But what?”
La Flemme scratched his head, embarrassed:
“Why, Lieutenant—without offense—I think
you'll be put in handcuffs.”
“No, they won't handcuff me.”


A MYSTERIOUS PHOTOGRAPH 93
Loud knocking was now heard, but the lieuten-
ant paid no attention to it.
“I’m going to clear out through the window,” he
explained.
He leaned out watching the movements of the
two men placed on guard.
Evidently they had received orders to watch the
cellar windows and did not raise their heads.
“Not a word, not a sound, La Flemme,” whis-
pered Louis Monet. “They will let you go free,
you have only to pretend that I have not returned to
the apartment. They will doubtless think that I
guessed the presence of the soldiers and escaped by
the roof. So, good by 1"
Louis Monet was admirably calm, although the
thing he planned to do was very dangerous.
Standing on the window-sill, he reached out and
seized a gutter pipe which overhung his apartment.
From there, his plan of flight was simple. Cling-
ing to the pipe, hanging in midair with the agility
of an acrobat, he advanced to the roof of the
neighboring house, fortunately on a slightly lower
level.
This house was surrounded by a large garden.
For the convenience of workmen, iron steps had
been placed in the wall, and by their aid Louis Monet
rapidly descended into the garden. Jumping over
the railing, he found himself safely in the street.
But while he made off quickly, turning occasionally
to make sure that he was not followed, he felt no
sense of joy in his freedom.
y


94 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
On the contrary, his face clouded over.
“Where should he go?”
Suddenly he recalled what Colonel Bayen had
said:
“If anything happens to me, go and see the second
curate of the church of Saint-Jacques.
“Here is a line asking him to explain his recent
visit to me.”
What could this unknown priest tell him?—What
new mystery awaited him?
“Alas,” sighed the lieutenant, “my difficulties are
now really beginning.”
And he might have added: “With the menace of
greater danger.”
And as he hurried through the streets of Luné-
ville he recalled the mysterious warning of the un-
fortunate Colonel Bayen.
“You are in danger of death! German espio-
nage is all-powerful and all-daring.”
Henceforth Monet could not doubt that he was
at grips with the formidable Prussian organiza-
tion.
Furthermore, it was beyond question that the Ger-
man spies were aware he had been delegated to the
redoubtable mission formerly in the hands of Colo-
nel Bayen. “But what I can't understand,” he
thought, “is how they learned it.”
He distinctly remembered every detail of his in-
terview with Colonel Bayen. The words of his
chief could not have been overheard, for they could
not have reached another ear but his own.
And yet twenty minutes later at the Elegants'
*-


A MYSTERIOUS PHOTOGRAPH 95
Club, he had been a victim of an attempted duel.
“It's incomprehensible,” repeated Louis Monet.
“How could our conversation have been overheard?
Who could have known it?”
Paul de Tersy? He dismissed the idea for lack
of evidence. Besides, Paul de Tersy could not have
overheard his conversation with Colonel Bayen.
After a time Monet reached the small square
where the house of Abbé Jandron stood. He had
many times admired the garden belonging to it.
He came to a stop, surprised.
The windows were lighted up, the priest had not
gone to bed.
“Ah! that's extraordinary!” thought the officer.
“What can he be doing at such an hour?”
Then he shrugged his shoulders with a laugh.
He would be finding mysteries everywhere now!
He rang the bell.
It was Abbé Jandron himself who opened the
door.
“Abbé, I ought to—”
But the abbé cut short his excuses.
“Well,” he asked nervously. “Have you any
news? Is anything known yet?” -
Louis Monet was taken aback.
What was the abbé talking about?
“Pardon, but—”
The abbé cut him short again:
“Come in 1 Come in 1 You must give me de-
tails—did the district attorney send you—or the lieu-
tenant colonel?”
Louis Monet felt completely stunned.


96 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
What did this priest know? What was he about
to tell him?
Louis Monet, who had followed the priest into
a study, drew out his card and the note from Colo-
nel Bayen.
“Abbé, I think there is some mistake. You seem
to be expecting somebody. I am really here by
chance. Will you read that note, written by Colonel
Bayen a few days ago!”
With trembling hand, the abbé tore open the en-
velope. He seemed equally stunned:
“So you weren't sent by the district attorney nor
by the lieutenant colonel?”
“No,” replied Louis Monet, “I came from my
own chief, Abbé.”
“And you want to know the details of my visit to
Colonel Bayen?”
“Exactly, Abbé.”
“You do not know the consequences? You
haven't heard the end of the adventure?”
Louis Monet felt his heart beat faster.
What was the priest about to confide to him?
“It's a very serious matter, Abbé, and I beg you
to tell me.”
“Very serious, yes, Lieutenant.”
He invited his guest to sit down and then re-
counted the extraordinary visit he had been induced
to make to Colonel Bayen.
And while he explained the greeting he had re-
ceived from the officer, Louis Monet grew more and
more terrified.
“What you have told me is terribly mysterious,


A MYSTERIOUS PHOTOGRAPH 97
Abbé. The woman who sent you to the colonel is
undoubtedly an accomplice of the murderer, who
yielded to a religious scruple and desired to have the
colonel make his peace with God. In fact, that is
what the colonel himself thought. I remember quite
well what he said. “I shall not be killed without a
warning. They had the irony to send me a con-
fessor.’”
“And this woman must be found at any cost. We
must know who she is.”
“I know who the woman is,” replied the abbé.
“What!”
“Listen to me. I had completely forgotten this
incident, Lieutenant, and had set it down to a stupid
joke. When today at half-past five, I learned of
Colonel Bayen's murder, you may guess my feelings.
It seemed to me that the murder had a direct con-
nection with my adventure.
“The police should have been notified 1
“I rushed to the district attorney's office—he was
out. I asked where he could be found—I was sent
to Colonel Bayen's home where he had begun an
investigation.”
“And then?”
The priest hesitated. He had grown very pale.
“Oh, then—what happened was unbelievable.
When I reached Colonel Bayen's quarters, I found
the district attorney engaged with the lieutenant
colonel. Naturally the house was in the greatest
disorder. A servant showed me into Colonel Bay-
en's bedroom, and there—”
“There?”


98 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“There in a secret drawer which had been opened
by the authorities, I saw a photograph, and beside
it a picture cut from a local paper. The photo-
graph was that of a young woman quite unknown to
me—the picture was that of a woman of certain
age undoubtedly taken at some fête, and this woman
I recognized. She was the same woman who had
sent me to see Colonel Bayen I
Louis Monet appeared stupefied.
And yet he did not guess what was troubling the
priest.
“But, Abbé, does not that explain everything?
This woman must have been a friend of Colonel
Bayen's, and her action the result of Christian zeal.
. . . Perhaps the death of the colonel and this
incident may be mere coincidence.”
The Abbé Jandron put his hand on the lieuten-
ant's arm.
“Listen to me—you do not know all. Amazed
at the sight of the picture, I questioned the servant
who had shown me into the room. I asked him if
he knew, by chance, why Colonel Bayen had hidden
the illustration in the secret drawer, and if he knew
the name of the woman it represented.”
“Well ?”
“Well, Lieutenant, the servant answered: ‘Oh,
very well, Abbé. Those photographs are the colo-
nel's wife. The one taken when she was young,
the other later. It seems she died twenty years ago
and was buried in the Boche's country.’”
Louis Monet was dumbfounded at the priest's
extraordinary recital.


A MYSTERIOUS PHOTOGRAPH 99
He had heard, of course, all the garrison gossip.
He knew that Colonel Bayen had lost his young
and tenderly loved wife in Berlin.
It was, therefore, not the fact that the colonel was
a widower which stupefied him, but the incoherence
of the abbé's adventure.
Beyond doubt the priest could not have received
a visit from Mme. Bayen, since Mme. Bayen had
been dead for twenty years.
The servant's testimony was materially impos-
sible.
The photograph of the young woman might in-
deed be that of Mme. Bayen, but the illustration rep-
resenting a middle-aged woman could not be the
same person, since Mme. Bayen had already been
dead for twenty years, and had died young.
“Abbé, there is a mistake on the part of the
servant and on your part also. You have been the
victim of a resemblance.”
The priest shook his head.
“No, Lieutenant, no! I am sure of what I say.
The portrait of this dead woman is the portrait of
my visitor. And yet, I know that must be impos-
sible.”
After a few moments, Louis Monet questioned
him:
“Have you told all this to the district attorney?”
“Naturally.”
“What did he think of it?”
“I don't know. He seemed persuaded, as you
are, that it was a case of chance resemblance. But
I was able to convince him to the contrary.”


IOO THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Then, what did he decide to do? To look for
this woman?”
“Exactly.”
The priest rose and opened a drawer in his desk
which was locked.
“The district attorney wishes to clear up the
matter and has had some reproductions of the por-
trait made. Tomorrow detectives will be on the
lookout for her. I brought a copy of the portrait
away with me. I shall show it to my parishioners in
case some one among them may know the original.”
An intense curiosity had taken hold of Louis Mo-
net. He attached no importance to the abbé's
words, but who was this woman—undoubtedly an
accomplice of the murderers?
“You have the copy here, Abbé?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, this is it.”
Louis Monet no sooner saw the photograph when
he staggered back pale as a sheet, and he would have
fallen had he not clutched the window curtains.
It was a photograph of Mme. Brigitte Ravignon,
the mother of Colettel


X
HORRIBLE CERTAINTY
THE trumpets sounded a joyful march, and be-
hind the music, the regiment kept time—superb
—as though going to a fête.
Louis Monet, who had lain hidden in the quarry
for twenty-four hours waiting the return of La
Flemme, seemed to be going through a horri-
ble nightmare as he watched the dragoons march
by.
How often had he heard this music during ma-
neuvers
Mechanically he numbered them:
“Fourth squadron—second platoon—first platoon
—third squadron—third platoon—first platoon—
second squadron—”
And there on the flank of the column was his
place | And there he ought to be, mounted on Ca-
boche, with drawn sabre, so happy to be alive, to
be on the march 1
Where was the regiment going?
It was going to fight.
The unhappy lieutenant gave a deep sigh. Ah!
the painful irony of things!
After having dreamt for so long of revenge!
After having dreamt of this departure with an ex-
asperated desire of battle, of the charge, of victory!
IOI


IO2 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
And the very day the dragoons march to the fron-
tier, to be alone in a quarry, like a wretch, a coward
who hides, a deserter, a spyl
The regiment had passed by
Some laggards were hastening at a gallop to re-
join the ranks. Then the heavy carriages thun-
dered along the road, the ambulances, a forge, bread
wagons—and when the last of them had gone, when
the road was empty again and nothing remained
but a cloud of dust, Louis Monet, struck to the heart,
fell to the ground, his face in his hands, and shed
scalding tears.
He had taken leave of Abbé Jandron with such
suddenness, muttering words without sense, that the
priest had been completely taken aback. But the
rapid walk to the quarry and the pure evening
air had calmed his nerves. He was able to collect
his thoughts and study the problem that lay before
him.
In the first place the abbé had recognized in the
photograph the woman who came to see him. And
he himself had identified this woman with Colette's
mother.
Now the woman could not have been the wife
of Colonel Bayen, since his wife was dead twenty
years ago in Berlin.
Had the servant purposely misled Abbé Jandron
or not?
After thinking it over Louis Monet decided it
had been done on purpose.
“The servant evidently said it was a portrait of
the late Colonel Bayen's wife to throw the abbé off


104 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Was she an innocent victim? Was she a redoubt-
able accomplice whose duty it was to betray with
smiles and oaths of love? Colette was a friend of
the scoundrelly Paul de Tersy. Was she his ac-
complice too?
Lieutenant Monet felt a great pain and a great
fear. Alas! to whom had he confided the precious
document which contained so terrible a secret? To
Colette. And it was Colette, the daughter of a spy,
who held the document upon which the very safety
of France might hang!
If Colette should betray him, the document would
be forever lost.
“And all that would be left for me would be to
kill myself,” he added.
To die! No, not yet.
He had not the right.
To die would be to desert.
“My mission comes first,” he thought.
His impulse was to rush to Cirey and learn the
truth.
But ought he not to wait for La Flemme?
Surely the help of this devoted friend would be
of service to him.
But why didn't La Flemme come? What did
his prolonged absence mean?
He may have been killed by spies.
The night wore by and the first streaks of day-
light appeared, the time when desperate resolutions
are taken.
Louis Monet, at the end of his strength, decided:


HORRIBLE CERTAINTY IOS
“If La Flemme is not here in an hour, whatever
happens I shall go to the Ravignon's.”
He had fever. He wanted to fight.
Now, at the precise moment when the hour came
to an end, he heard footsteps approaching.
“They may be the police!”
And then he gave a cry of rage in thinking that he
should be there, dreading the arrival of the police
like a criminall
He now hid himself in one of the dips of the
ground.
A figure suddenly appeared.
Monet sprang up.
“La Flemmel La Flemme !”
It was, in truth, the orderly.
As he drew close, Louis Monet had another
alarm.
La Flemme was in a pitiful state.
His face was streaked with blood, his clothes were
torn, his muddy boots and one spur missing bore wit-
ness to a fight.
“Where have you been?—What has happened to
you?”
La Flemme dropped onto the ground like a log.
“Where have I been? In a rotten bad place!”
La Flemme explained:
“After you left, they got a line on me—accused
me of helping you off—eight guys tried to haul me
to prison, but I made them feel the weight of my
fists and the toe of my boot. Say, Lieutenant, it's
a deuced queer game you're making me play! Now


108 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
breaking of diplomatic relations, she would try to
invade France.
Louis Monet said to himself:
“They may be fighting already a few miles from
here ! Besides, if the 32nd dragoons have gone, it
is because enemy patrols have been signaled.”
And he feared that the peaceful little village of
Cirey might be already in the midst of the struggle.
But he tried to reassure himself.
“No 1 No! That is not so. I certainly heard
the firing of guns, but are the Germans already in
France? They would not have dared. Real fight-
ing could not take place for a fortnight. Every
book on tactics would agree to that, especially as
Germany would not dare begin the offensive in that
quarter.”
Now, as he recalled his theories, learnt in school
during peace, he found himself, with the suddenness
of a catastrophe, plunged into the horror.
It happened very quickly.
The two men, at the time, were in a wood about
three miles from Cirey.
Suddenly overhead they heard a formidable noise,
strange, unknown.
It seemed as though an enormous automobile was
going at full speed through the air.
A second passed, two seconds—centuries.
And then, suddenly, in the tops of the trees some-
thing red glowed.
An oak, struck by an invisible object, fell.
The ground trembled. Clouds of dust arose and


A DYING CONFESSION IO9
stones hurtled, mingled with pieces of steel tearing
the trunks of the trees.
“La Flemme?”
“Lieutenant?”
“All right?”
“Yes, and you?”
“All right.”
The two men stood up—for the wind of the shell
had thrown them violently to the ground.
Less than ten yards away a deep hole had been
dug in the ground. An odor of powder caught them
by the throat.
La Flemme laughed calmly:
“Well, Lieutenant, I must have been asleep—
they are certainly fighting, since the shells begin to
drop.”
Louis Monet did not reply.
With clenched teeth and fists he watched the sky
where falling stars were beginning to trace their lines
of fire.
A few seconds more and then a formidable and
fantastic noise filled the valley and the wood; the un-
loosed rage of a hundred guns firing together.
The French batteries were replying to the Ger-
man batteries.
“It's getting warm,” exclaimed La Flemme.
The orderly was obliged to shout to make him-
self heard.
Louis Monet put his hand on his shoulder.
“Battle ! At last.”
And while shells struck down trees and the dis-


I IO THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
tant glow of fires lit the sky, Louis Monet cried:
“Forward l’’
The officer at this moment felt a new spirit born
within him.
The sounds of battle awoke in his heart tragedy,
suffering, and the valor of a Frenchman defending
his country.
It seemed to Louis Monet that the Prussians were
defaming the invaded territory.
If shells were falling in the wood, it meant that
they were fighting at Cirey.
And if they were fighting at Cirey, it meant that
the enemy had crossed the frontier.
“Forward | Forward! We must drive them
out !”
Louis Monet scarcely knew what he was saying.
The noise of battle intoxicated him like wine.
He drew his sword, rushing forward toward the
contending armies.
La Flemme ran to him.
“And your mission? And Mlle. Colette?”
Louis Monet stopped abruptly.
“The yellow document! Colettel That is
true.”
He must leave to others the glorious death—the
intoxication of charging at the head of his squadron
—the soldier's work.
Destiny put him aside crying:
“Not yet.”
“You will be doing more than fighting,” Colonel
Bayen had said, “you will save the country ! Your
duty is to perform the mission I give you.”


I 12 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Colette was there. She must return the yellow
document. Once in his hands he might be free to
go and fight.
They were both running now.
But they had not gone a hundred yards when they
stopped and looked at each other, questioning
whether they had heard aright.
It sounded like the despairing call of a voice about
to cease forever.
“Help! Help!”
A wounded man must be close by—perhaps some
stray bullet had taken its toll of human life!
They sprang forward. Monet was the first to
see a figure, apparently in final convulsions lying at
the foot of a tree.
As he bent over the indistinct form, a cry of hor-
ror escaped him—a cry of hate—of fury.
“De Tersy!”
The irony of destiny that it should be Louis Mo-
net who came to the aid of Paul de Tersy!
The wounded man lay with closed eyes and white
face, apparently inert.
Was he dead?
Or did he half-consciously recognize who was
bending over him.
Monet questioned him with trembling voice:
“Can you hear me? Where are you hurt?”
De Tersy opened his eyes.
His face became terrified.
“Monet! You!”
“Yes. Don't be afraid. Are you in pain?”
“In terrible pain—I am dying.”


A DYING CONFESSION II 3
He spoke in gasps, probably choked by some in-
ternal hemorrhage.
La Flemme remarked:
“I don't see any wound—there's no blood on his
clothes.”
De Tersy made an effort to lift himself up. He
looked imploringly at Louis Monet.
“Help me—I shall breathe easier.”
Louis Monet did as he was asked.
Later, perhaps, Louis Monet would reproach him-
self for having acted so quickly, on the spur of the
moment.
La Flemme repeated:
“But, Lieutenant, where is he wounded?”
Paul de Tersy, with white lips, gasped pain-
fully.
“Can we lift you?” suggested Louis Monet.
“Where are you wounded?”
The wounded man stared before him as though
he dared not look at the officer.
“De Tersy, answer me! Are you suffering?”
He leaned over the dying man, whose lips moved.
The words he spoke were strange, stupefying:
“I’m lost—can't be helped—no importance—but
—don't want to die—without telling you—what I
have done—I'm a scoundrel—”
“The document—the yellow document?—” ques-
tioned Louis Monet breathlessly.
“Yes—ask your forgiveness—the deuce—I was
hard up—bust—so I had to have Colette's dot—
and she didn't love me—but her father was willing
—Oh! Oh!—you understand?”


A DYING CONFESSION II 5
And in his delirium probably, he repeated:
“Forgive me, Monet. I have dishonored you—
I needed money—oh, to be a gambler! That is
terrible!”
He was silent for a moment.
His face took on a comforted look.
“I don't understand,” murmured La Flemme.
With a movement, Louis Monet silenced him.
The wounded man spoke further:
“Colette!—Colette loves you! You must tell her
that—I had the courage to say everything I have
said.—Tell her you are not a thiefl”
He articulated the last words with infinite labor.
Then a spasm seized him—he half raised himself—
his eyes took on a look of horror almost superhu-
man. Then suddenly he fell back motionless.
“Dead,” murmured the officer.
But at this moment La Flemme gave a cry of de-
spair.
“Back, Lieutenant—quickly! The Prussians!”
Less than fifty yards away some shadowy figures
appeared, followed by the sharp crackle of rifle fire.
La Flemme and Monet found themselves the tar-
get for two companies of the enemy.


XII
SILENT WORDS
WENTY minutes later, out of breath and ex-
hausted, Louis Monet dropped behind a hedge.
It took him a few moments to grasp the meaning of
what had happened.
As La Flemme cried “Go back!” he had the sharp
impression of terrible danger.
Not only did they run the chance of being shot by
the advancing Prussians, but the awful peril of be-
ing surrounded and made prisoners.
From every side Teuton uniforms could be
vaguely seen. Louis Monet did not hesitate. As
he could do nothing further for de Tersy, he cried
in his turn:
“Back! La Flemme !”
Bullets whistled about their ears.
At this instant Monet tried a final ruse.
He cried to La Flemme:
“Separatel You go to the right. We'll meet
later onl”
The orderly understood.
The idea was to confuse their pursuers.
Monet reached the woods and was soon hidden in
the underbrush.
What had become of La Flemme? Doubtless he
too, had been able to cover his tracks.
II6


SILENT WORDS 117
The lieutenant sighed deeply.
Fate seemed to be pursuing him, for now he had
lost the only companion in whom he dared confide.
As for de Tersy he had made a clear confession.
Ruined by gambling, he had wanted to marry Colette
and get hold of old Ravignon's money.
This exculpated de Tersy from the charge of being
a German spy—a criminal but not a traitor to his
country.
The lieutenant started suddenly:
“But if this is the case, then I have been mistaken
in a number of other ways. There has been no plot
against me. German spies have not been tracking
me down.”
After a moment's thought, he shrugged his shoul-
ders. If the club adventure could be cleared of any
connection with spy work, another action was cer-
tainly the work of treason.
Colonel Bayen had been murdered. He had been
murdered under conditions which made it certain
that Brigitte Ravignon had foreseen his death.
Suddenly Louis Monet listened.
A carriage was coming towards him. He heard
distinctly the horse's hoofs and the creaking of the
wheels.
Where could he hide? Two walls, too high to
be climbed hemmed him in on either side; nothing
but a narrow ditch between them and the side walk.
Into this he dropped, lying flat on the ground.
The carriage came round a turn of the road and
advanced. When it had gone a few yards past
him, he raised his head.


I 18 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Did he really see what he thought he saw? Was
he not the victim of hallucination?
The carriage was driven by a German soldier—
he noted the long cloak and the spiked helmet. But
it was not the soldier he stared at.
In a flash Louis Monet thought he could dis-
tinguish the two occupants of the carriage.
Yet he must have been mistakenl
“Paul de Tersy,” he murmured, “was it really
Paul de Tersy I saw? And near him, that woman,
who appeared to be bound? Could it have been
Mme. Ravignon?”
He asked himself if he was going mad.
Paul de Tersy alive—only slightly pale, when he
had seen him dead a few moments before l
And Mme. Ravignon, a prisoner, bound?
Ah! That wasn't possible. Mme. Ravignon
was a spy, belonging to the German espionage. She
could scarcely be bound and in a carriage driven by
a soldier of the Kaiserl
The vision was so incomprehensible that Louis
Monet dismissed it from his thoughts.
“I was mistaken,” he said to himself.
With a movement of rage he continued on his
way.
Ah! to know! To pierce the mystery of this
great net of espionage in which he was struggling!
Who were the scoundrels to be unmasked? Above
all, to learn the truth concerning Colette. With
beating heart and heavy of spirit, Louis Monet now
ran along the street towards the Ravignon's house.
Of course he would find there proof that he had been


SILENT WORDS I 19
mistaken He would hear Mme. Ravignon's voicel
He would find the house occupied
When Louis Monet reached the house, he found
it silent and abandoned.
The doors had been broken in. The windows
were without panes. One of the walls was black-
ened by fire.
Then, in spite of the danger, Louis Monet went
in and searched from garret to cellar.
Everywhere he found traces of the struggle, ob-
jects overturned and the sinister proof of an abom-
inable tragedy.
Why should German soldiers pillage the home of
a spy?
And what had become of its inhabitants?
Was it really Brigitte Ravignon he had seen in
the carriage? Was she a prisoner for not having
done her work well enough?
And Colette?
Frantic with anxiety, Louis Monet crossed the
garden which extended back of the house.
As he passed a small building used as a pigeon
loft, he stopped in bewilderment—to find its 'one win-
dow brilliantly lighted.
He approached and with difficulty stifled a cry
which rose to his lips.
A man's figure was silhouetted clearly against the
lighted room.
What was he doing, and who was he?
He recognized the man at once. It was Ravig-
non, the mayor of Cirey, and his occupation was
more than strange. He held two oil lamps near his


I2O THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
face and he was speaking—that is to say he was mov-
ing his lips, but no sound came from them.
Louis Monet was about to hail him, but checked
himself.
“Is he making signals?” he asked himself.
But Ravignon was absolutely motionless except
for his lips which moved incessantly.
For a moment Louis Monet thought of the pos-
sibility of some scientific mechanism, of a secret tele-
phone.
This supposition he dismissed, as no telephone
existed which could transmit silent words.
The officer now cast suspicious eyes around him.
The night was pitch dark. It was not possible to
see three yards ahead in the garden. The idea
came to him to rush into the building and confront
the mayor of Cirey.
He was just on the point of doing so when raising
his eyes again he noticed that Ravignon had shifted
his attitude. He had put down his lamps and held
a pair of glasses with which he studied the horizon
with evident attention.
Louis Monet turned. And this time he guessed
at least part of the truth.
Some distance away in the direction of the village
he saw a lighted window, and it was this window
that Ravignon was examining.
Louis Monet hesitated no longer.
“I must find out,” he murmured.
Using the utmost precaution he left the garden
and ran towards the lighted window.


SILENT WORDS I2 I
In less than ten minutes the officer reached Cirey,
and immediately understood the horrible danger
which confronted him.
Cirey was taken. German soldiers were biv-
ouacking in every street.
“If I am seen I shall inevitably be made prisoner,”
he felt.
He wore his officer's uniform. His identity was
beyond question.
But he did not hesitate.
From the shadow of a street corner he sprang
over a hedge and landed in a garden. From there
he climbed the railing into the next garden and so
gradually advanced towards his object, the lighted
window from which the signals were given. The
risk was enormous and at every moment he expected
to be shot down by a sentry.
At length he reached a circle of lights which
proved to be the camp fires of several German sol-
diers. He dodged to one side without being caught
and finally arrived at his destination.
Behind the lighted window he saw a sight which
was equally incomprehensible.
A Prussian officer stood in the same position as
Ravignon with two lighted lamps held by his face,
and he, too, was speaking mutely. By his side lay
a field glass through which he must have watched
the mayor of Cirey.
Louis Monet, amazed beyond measure, stood
below the window, not knowing what to think.
“They are talking silently! Can they be—?”


I22 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Turning his eyes away for an instant, he saw the
wall of the only amusement hall in Cirey. It was a
modest movie theatre.
Ah! Suddenly he divined the truth.
A few months ago the papers had printed an
amusing anecdote.
A number of mutes had been taken to the theatre
to see a movie performance. During one of the
most pathetic films they had burst into wild laughter.
This was occasioned by the fact that they had been
able to read the lips of the actors who were making
jokes among themselves and speaking words which
had no connection with the story of the film.
It was not impossible that these two men, spies,
had achieved the same faculty.
Louis Monet swore with rage.
“The devil! Ravignon is betraying us. He is
the spy!”
There could be no doubt of that.
Their method of communication was safe and
Sure.
Ah! Now he had direct proof of the mayor's
guilt. -
And, alas! He had the explanation of the mys-
tery which had given him so much anxiety.
He had asked himself how it could have been pos-
sible to overhear the conversation which took place
between Colonel Bayen and himself.
It had not been necessary to overhear their words.
Ravignon had read them on the lips of the colonel.
In fact, the very precautions taken by the unfor-
tunate officer had been the means of the catastrophe.


SILENT WORDS I23
Had he not held the interview by the window so
that the noise of the wagons might cover his
words?
And Ravignon had been in Lunéville that very
evening when Colonel Bayen had given Louis Monet
the yellow document.
The lieutenant had passed him in the town and
La Flemme had seen him at the station.
Yes, Ravignon knew he had taken possession of
the yellow document.
Then what part had Brigitte Ravignon played?
“That, I cannot guess l’’ thought Louis Monet.
“There is no proof of her guilt. Indeed, may she
not have sent the priest as a warning, having got
wind of her husband's intention to murder Colonel
Bayen?”
As Louis Monet put this question to himself, he
recalled the carriage he had passed a few moments
earlier. He had wondered why Brigitte Ravignon,
whom he suspected of being a spy, should be a pris-
oner of the Germans.
But, on the contrary, it was quite simple if Brigitte
was an honest woman, if she had tried to save Colo-
nel Bayen.
Again, he thought he had seen de Tersy in the
carriage. Might not de Tersy have lied in making
his so-called confession?
Suppose he were a spy?
In that case, it was natural for him to have feigned
death, knowing he had nothing to fear from the ap-
proaching Germans. -
Ought he not to have guessed the infamous trap?


124 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Everything now became clear.
Ravignon, reading the colonel's secret by his lips;
Ravignon warning de Tersy at the club; and then de
Tersy playing the part of a dying man. Ah! de
Tersy had succeeded marvelously.
And Colette? What had Colette done? What
had become of her?
Ah! he no longer doubted. Colette was cer-
tainly innocent.
Had she escaped with the yellow document at the
moment the Prussians entered the village?
Had she fled later, upon finding her father a spy?
Or was she ignorant of it all?
Or again—and Monet could not entirely drive
away the thought—was she her father's accomplice?
The officer had no hesitation as to his duty.
He must return to Ravignon's house, force the
mayor to confess, if necessary through fear of death.
Louis Monet sprang out of the garden.
But in his anger he neglected to take the most ele-
mentary precautions.
The noise he made called forth an immediate
challenge:
“Werda P”
At the same time figures sprang up on all sides.
He was surrounded.
At last he was face to face with the enemy.
He cried:
“Vive la France.”
An oath and a bayonet thrust answered him.
He jumped to one side.
The German soldiers were afraid to fire on ac-


SILENT WORDS 125
count of wounding their own man. They rushed
upon Monet.
Louis Monet did not wait for them to arrive.
He seized the German by the throat and strangled
him.
The man struggled, then fell backwards to the
ground, inert.
The officer continued his flight.
Where could he go?
To try the gardens would inevitably mean to be
caught.
He climbed a railing and found himself in a
Street.
Behind him the Germans were in full pursuit.
He ran forward at top speed and then turned
sharply into the first lane he came to.
Twenty yards further on he came to a halt.
The lane was a blind alley.
It was hemmed in by tall houses on either side
and an impassable wall at the foot.


XIII
HER FATHER
T the moment when Louis Monet had caught
the mayor of Cirey in mute conversation with
a Prussian officer, he had guessed many things.
He had the conviction that the redoubtable spy
who had occasioned him such terrible misfortunes
was the father of Colette, also that Brigitte Ravig-
non was innocent.
He had the certainty that he had really seen Paul
de Tersy and Mme. Ravignon in the carriage.
But to learn the whole truth he would have had
to be present during certain fantastic happenings
which took place beyond his vision.
Paul de Tersy, whom La Flemme and Monet
had left for dead, was so much alive that the mo-
ment the two men were in full flight, he jumped
quickly to his feet, shouting in the purest German:
“Hi there ! you brutes 1 hurry up! Catch the fu-
gitives and kill them!”
He then passed through the lines and hurried to
Ravignon's house.
But how was he able to pass the Prussian lines
with such ease?
By reason of a small red card upon which was
written, “Special Detective of the War Police,” a
roundabout way of saying “spy” "
126


HER FATHER 127
Five minutes later de Tersy reached the mayor's
house. There he found Farmer Ravignon busy su-
perintending the work of some uhlans.
The orders he gave were surprising:
“Brutes | Who sent me' such a rotten lot of sol-
diers? Aren't you even able to pillage properly?
I tell you to break down the doors—the windows—
destroy the furniture—fire the house !”
The young man was astounded:
“Are you crazy? What on earth are you doing?”
Ravignon answered dryly:
“I’m whitewashing myself. By the way, I want
you—come along.”
After giving a few more orders, he took the
young man to the cellar.
“I don't care to be killed yet and here we are
safe from shells. Well, what is new P”
Ravignon had no longer the appearance of a
peasant. He spoke with authority, and as a man
accustomed to command.
On the contrary, de Tersy lowered his voice, hat
in hand, and no longer resembled the elegant young
man who drove his cars at such speed through the
country.
“Monsieur Ravignon, one question first. What
did you mean by whitewashing yourself?”
At the question Ravignon gave a loud laugh.
“You are young, de Tersy ſ”
He explained:
“Why I'm destroying my things to whitewash my-
self in the eyes of my dear citizens of Cirey. If my
house should be exempt from the general destruc-


128 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
tion, suspicion would be raised in the minds of the
French authorities.”
The scoundrel laughed again at his ingenious pre-
caution. Then suddenly his eyes lighted.
“But that is not the question. I need you, de
Tersy. Somebody has to be taken away.”
“Your daughter?”
“Bah! What a fool you are l My daughter
doesn't bother me—it's my wife.”
The wretch crossed the cellar and opened a heavy
door. He then threw the light of his dark lantern
on the ground.
“There she is l’”
Paul de Tersy could not restrain a movement of
surprise.
Bound and gagged, Brigitte Ravignon lay on the
floor.
“You seem surprised,” exclaimed Ravignon.
“But that's the way it is. When you came under
my orders as a spy I warned you against this cursed
woman. I told you she could not be given a mo-
ment's liberty. She loves the French too well.
Ah! I think she will get over that—for lack of an
object. God punish England and protect our
arms—there won't be many French left, if I
guess right.
“Now then, de Tersy, to work!”
“What am I to do?”
“You are to take this woman away.”
“Where?”
“To the Vezouse.”
A 2/"a


HER FATHER I29
And as de Tersy started back, alarmed, the mayor
added:
“Don’t be so childishly stupid. I tell you the
woman annoys me, therefore I suppress her—it's as
clear as daylight! You are to take her to the river
above the locks, fill her skirt with stones and send
her to the next world. And I warn you, beware of
herl On no account take out her gag. She is a
woman of indomitable energy. She would be ca-
pable of crying out and attracting attention, which
would be uncomfortable for both of us—for both
of us. You understand?”
“Yes,” said de Tersy.
“Then off you go—and hurry.”
A moment later they threw the unfortunate Mme.
Ravignon into a waiting carriage, driven by a Ger-
man soldier, and started along the road where soon
afterwards they had been seen by Louis Monet.
After Paul de Tersy had gone with the woman
he was to murder Ravignon betook himself to his
pigeon loft and there got into immediate communi-
cation with the head of the invading army.
Firmin Ravignon naturally little thought that he
was being watched by Louis Monet and gave way
to the height of joy and good humor, when, five
minutes later he left the pigeon loft, or rather de-
scended by a ladder to the cellar below.
“Tra, lal la!” he sang. “Things are certainly
getting better and better.”
Then, becoming more serious, he said in a strange
tone :


130 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Eh! Big stakes are on the table now! My
word I think I shall end a millionaire—with the
secret I hold—and by marrying her, as I hope to,
her fortune will be mine. The combination is de-
cidedly a good one ! It took a long time to succeed,
but it's succeeding at last.”
The scoundrel stopped suddenly. Upon entering
the cellar, he called:
“Colettel Colette! Are you there?”
“Father! It is you?”
“Yes,” replied Ravignon in a paternal tone. “It
is I, my poor child. Ah! What a day! But
don't worry! Your mother is safe and we two are
going to escape.”
“Father, tell me first—the battle—did we win?”
Ravignon answered with a chuckle which Colette
did not notice:
“Yes, 'we' were victorious.”
And while Colette trembled with joy, the ignoble
coward added:
“Cirey is taken, but that is of no importance.
Come, we must hurry.”
An hour later, a fantastic scene, a horrible drama,
began, and Colette wondered if she were not losing
her reason.
Ah! the shocking adventure, the unbelievable
nightmare she was to live through, the unhappy girl!
Accompanied by Ravignon, she was obliged to go
through the familiar village of Cirey where Ger-
man soldiers were getting drunk according to their
usual custom.


HER FATHER I3 I
Colette was instantly surprised that her father
showed no anxiety.
He held in his hand a small red card which he
showed ostentatiously and which seemed to be hon-
ored everywhere.
What was it?
Colette questioned:
“Father, is that a passport you have; have they
given it to you as a magistrate?”
“A passport,” he laughed. “It's something much
better.” Then he added: “Be careful, Colette—
Call me ‘Monsieur.” There are more surprises in
store for you.”
In the principal square of Cirey a superb automo-
bile was stationed before the city hall. Two chauf-
feurs, whose uniforms bore the imperial arms, were
on the seat. Ravignon whispered a few words to
them, then opened the door.
“Kindly step in, Mademoiselle !”
Tremblingly Colette took a seat in the sumptuous
Car.
At this moment a fusillade began.
“Oh, father,” Colette cried instinctively.
Ravignon gave her a terrible look.
“Keep quiet, now!”
Then he laughed suddenly.
His manner became so good natured and cheer-
ful that Colette for a moment felt reassured.
Alas! the poor child would have wept her heart
out had she known the significance of the shots—
had she known that in a neighboring street Louis


132 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Monet was fleeing like a wild beast pursued by
exasperated German soldiers.
Fortunately Colette was ignorant of that.
She seemed to be living in a fantastic dream, from
which doubtless she would wake in a moment and
smile at the pleasant and tragic incidents she fancied
were actualities.
The automobile speeding through the night, the
German chauffeurs with the imperial arms, obeying
her father, Firmin Ravignon, the French mayor of
the French commune of Cirey. -
The automobile, after a quick run of twenty min-
utes, stopped and turned into the grounds of a
villa which Colette, who rarely made extended ex-
cursions, did not recognize.
Immediately two footmen in knee breeches sprang
down the front steps and opened the door.
“Kindly step down,” murmured Ravignon.
Upon the steps, Prussian officers, the cursed sol-
diers she hated, were standing in groups.
One of them, very decorated, stepped forward
and inquired:
“To whom have I the honor of speaking?”
And Ravignon answered in such manner that Co-
lette thought she would faint.
“Kindly announce to his majesty his personal
counsellor, Professor Krampft, who wishes to speak
to him upon an urgent matter.”
She could not believe her ears.
Ravignon, calling himself Professor Krampft,
giving himself the title of personal counsellor!
–4 2-y- `


HER FATHER I 33
While she stood voiceless and ready to fall, the
much decorated young man spoke to Ravignon with
infinite respect.
“Your excellency is expected. His majesty has
given orders to admit your excellency without delay.”
Krampft, or rather Ravignon, smiled and nodded.
“Very well.”
The officer asked:
“Is mademoiselle to accompany you?”
“Certainly.” -
Colette felt everything turning round.
An audience? She was being taken to an audi-
ence—and her father had the title of excellency?
And he spoke authoritatively to those dogs of Prus-
sians ! The frightened girl would have liked to
scream. She was not given time. Ravignon, or
Krampft, took her by the arm.
Father and daughter followed the officer into a
large drawing-room. There, chamberlains hurried
forward.
“Is his majesty in the small drawing-room?”
asked the young officer.
Upon getting an affirmative answer, he opened a
door and announced:
“His excellency, Herr Professor Krampft, per-
sonal counsellor to his majesty.”
Now, more than ever, Colette fancied she was
going mad.
In the room a man was standing dressed in a colo-
nel's uniform, the very sight of whom made Co-
lette shrink with disgust.


HER FATHER I 35
What an expression of kindness and of enthusiasm
he assumed.
Ravignon had turned to Colette bowing:
“My child may this day be the happiest of your
life! May this minute be the most glorious of your
existence 1 And may your majesty find now the
merited reward of a generous heart in the joy your
majesty will be witness to.”
He retired three paces more and cried:
“Colette, you are not my daughter as you sup-
pose Colette, kneel at the feet of your father.
Sire, here is your child. Colette is your bastard.”
Colette, whiter than death, shrank back with
horror. What could those abominable words
mean? She did not understand! She did not want
to understandl
Krampft explained:
“Colette, one day the emperor of Germany, your
father, loved. You were born of this love. The
emperor might have suppressed you, but he wished
you to live! He wanted you to be happy. Ah!
Colette, you whom I have treated as a daughter and
whom I must call ‘your highness' now, throw your-
self at the feet of your real father! You are his
child, his bastard, love him, adore him—like the
‘good German that you are l’”
Horrible words! Tragic words which wrung the
heart of the young girl. She tried to speak but
could not, she gasped for air. A mist spread before
her eyes and she fell at full length on the floor—un-
conscious.
The abominable Krampft sprang forward.


HER FATHER 137
William II pointed to Krampft.
“The firing squad for him. He has lived long
enough.”
And he added, jokingly:
“That shows the danger of exaggerating,
Krampft.”
Then the sinister individual pointed to Colette:
“She is to go, where you know—and let it be done
quickly.”
Colette was carried out, insensible.
Krampft was dragged and hauled away, a mis-
erable wretch shaking with agony.
The Kaiser surveyed his purple face and staring
eyes:
“Very odd, very odd,” he murmured.
When they had left the room, he resumed his im-
passable mien.
“Kindly explain, Mme. Bayen, why you are here?
These people interrupted us. I await the end of
your story.”
Mme. Bayen—Brigitte Ravignon—was she really
the wife of the murdered colonel?—continued her
narrative which had been cut short by the arrival
of Krampft and Colette.
“Sire,” murmured the poor woman, “I will tell
you the rest, and I hope to move your majesty to
pity. I was then put in the carriage and your son,
this cursed bastard whom I hate, tried to murder
me! Oh! Sire, for a long time I had known the
terrible truth, for a long time I had understood
Krampft's plan.
“It is true you had formerly a natural child, which


138 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
you put in Krampft's charge after making the un-
fortunate mother disappear. Krampft was to steal
the child as you took my poor little Colette from me.
“Time went by. Colette grew up. De Tersy be-
came one of your spies and Krampft prepared his
design: to make you recognize Colette as your own
daughter and marry her to de Tersy.
“Then, holding the proofs, Krampft was in a po-
sition to threaten de Tersy, ignorant of being your
son. And so he could cheat your majesty and black-
mail de Tersy, whose hands would be tied.”
The Kaiser nodded.
He understood the infernal plan of the wretched
Krampft. It was simplicity itself.
Substitute one child for another—deceive the em-
peror of Germany—get money from him under
threat of exposing the whole affair.
“Madame,” said the Kaiser slowly, “Krampft
will get the punishment he deserves. Six bullets in
his head. Continue your story—you were in the
carriage, you say?”
“And I was about to be murdered, Sire—but I
succeeded in tearing with my teeth the gag they had
placed in my mouth, swallowing the pieces. I was
then able to speak to your son, to tell him the secret
of his birth. “I know you are the bastard of
William II, I know that the emperor is not
far away. Do not kill me. Let us go and see
him. Show him your shortened left arm and I
who am the mother of Colette, will tell him the
truth.’”
“Which I know already. I've had Krampft


HER FATHER I39
watched. But, tell me, de Tersy believed you?”
“Of course, fatherl” cried the infamous young
man. “I was already your spy, what happiness to
learn that I was your son ſ”
The emperor continued to smile:
“Mme. Bayen,” he murmured, “you see that
even the most complicated adventures end well.
The truth always comes to light. But there are two
things that need some explanation.”
The Kaiser's eyes were cold and cruel.
“Why the devil did you send that idiotic priest to
your husband? It nearly upset everything.”
Mme. Bayen shuddered at the question.
“I am a Christian, Sire. Foreseeing the coming
war and realizing the danger my husband would run,
I wanted to incite him to make his peace with
God.”
“Granted. But here is another thing: How the
devil did this fool of a Krampft get you to pass as
his wife for such a long time? Frankly, I expected
you to kill yourself. I was amazed to get his re-
ports that you were still alive.”
“I am a Christian, Sirel That explains all. A
Christian does not commit suicide.”
Then, suddenly at the end of her strength, the un-
happy woman flung herself on her knees.
“Sire, have pity and grant me my liberty—above
all, grant me the life of Colettel How can the poor
child have deserved your anger? We will disap-
pear ! We will live wherever you wish ſ”
Mme. Bayen did not see the Kaiser shrug his
shoulders.


140 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Sire, I have given you your son—you cannot re-
fuse me the life of my daughter.”
“Do you think so, really? Then you must be
mad,” replied the Kaiser, calmly.
He rang once more. Two officers entered.
William II pointed to the woman at his feet.
“She is a madwoman. A dangerous lunatic. I
think a wagon load of insane persons is starting for
Berlin. Send her with them and take especial care
that she does not escape.”
The unhappy woman was dragged away.


XIV
FLIGHT
HEN Louis Monet found himself cornered in
the blind alley and realized that escape was
impossible, a great calm came over him.
And while he listened to the harsh cries of the sol-
diers searching for him, a smile came to his lips
at the thought that his capture would be of no
advantage, since he did not possess the yellow
document.
Besides, was his capture inevitable? Was there
no way of eluding the Prussian soldiers?
Louis Monet spoke German perfectly. He could
overhear the non-coms questioning the soldiers after
the fusillade which Colette had heard.
They had heard a suspicious noise in the garden,
they had found an individual who had strangled one
of their men and made his escape.
“You brutes! What became of him?”
“He is there, Sergeant. He is cornered.”
“Very well, then go and get him.”
“Certainly, Sergeant.”
“Is he armed?”
“No, sir, if he had been, he'd have used any
weapon he had just now.”
“All right, tell him to throw up his hands. If,
he refuses, shoot him.”
I4I


142 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Louis Monet overheard these orders and although
they announced his death, he could not help laugh-
ing at them.
Throw up his hands! Surrender! Ah! these
Prussians didn't know him.
He drew his sabre.
At any rate he would strike a blow before he fell,
riddled with bullets.
“Line up there, you brutes l Six men here to cut
off escape, the others forward! I will follow.”
A smile crossed the lieutenant's lips.
This simple order expressed all the difference be-
tween the French and the German races.
When a French officer gives a command, he places
himself in front of his men. He is the first to be
exposed to danger.
How different with the barbarians! How pru-
dent that non-com '
In a moment the sound of heavy footfalls was
heard.
Louis Monet took a last look around. The blind
alley was straight for about twenty yards; it then
made an abrupt elbow. Louis Monet thought:
“I can't stay where I am. I shall be a clear mark
for them. I shall be killed before I can strike.
“On the other hand, if I stand at the turn I can
spring out upon them.”
He advanced a few paces and then an exclamation
of amazement escaped him. Quickly he knelt down
and examined the street.
“Saved' I'm saved" he cried.
And indeed his discovery was most providential.


FLIGHT I43
A manhole !
It would be necessary only to lift the lid, descend
into the sewer and make his escape through it.
The German soldiers would not find out the ruse
for some time. Probably they would search the
houses first, and this would give him time to evade
them.
Ten minutes would be enough to find another
manhole on the outskirts of the village and so make
his escape across country.
Louis Monet struggled to lift the heavy lid. He
tore his nails and made his hands bleed.
It would not budge.
He was about to give it up when a sudden thought
came to him.
The workmen use a lever for the purpose. His
sabre might serve as such.
He put it through the ring and pressed with all
his strength. A sharp crack followed and the sabre
lay broken in two.
“Curse it!” swore the lieutenant.
And then another thought entered his mind.
How was it that a small village like Cirey had
a system of drains almost metropolitan?
Did the manhole really lead to a drain?
He recalled the fact that owing to the proximity
of a waterfall, the village was lighted by electricity.
What he had taken for the entrance to a drain was
simply the lid of one of the small holes used by elec-
tricians for connecting the cables. Furthermore,
for fear of dampness, these holes were generally
sealed with cement. He felt the edges of the lid and


144 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
sure enough they were firmly cemented down. A
cry of anger escaped him.
Not only was this means of escape cut off, but
he had destroyed his only weapon as well!
“I’m done for. There's nothing left but to sur-
render.”
Surrender? Nonsense.
He would face the enemy and die the death of a
soldier.
And now beyond the elbow Louis Monet saw
lights dancing on the wall.
The prudent soldiers, fearing an attack in the
dark, had brought along some lanterns.
With a bound, Louis Monet sprang back.
“Die? I haven't the right to die. I must ac-
complish my mission.”
In a flash he flung himself into the gutter, one
arm stretched out on the sidewalk, the other half
bent under him. And with legs apart he remained
rigid.
What was he thinking of? What was he at-
tempting to do?
The Prussians turning the corner of the alley, ap-
peared in close formation, stretching from one side
of the alley to the other.
In the middle of these lines of men and rifles, two
soldiers marched, carrying powerful automobile
lamps which lighted up the scene.
The sergeant cried:
“Surrender! Hands up!”
A soldier exclaimed:
“The alley is empty!”


FLIGHT I45
Another shouted:
“There! On the ground—in the gutter!”
Louis Monet felt the light of the lamps were
being directed on him. He remained without move-
nent.
And what he was waiting for inevitably hap-
pened.
“He is dead!” shouted some voices.
The sergeant howled:
“Advance, you brutes ſ”
Then the men rushed forward in a disorderly
mob.
Louis Monet was the center of a dozen soldiers
who thought they were surrounding a dead body.
It was the moment the energetic officer awaited.
With tense muscles, he suddenly sprang up:
“Vive la France!”
He sent the two lamps flying with a couple of
blows from his broken sabre.
Alarmed by this unexpected resuscitation and
blinded by the sudden jump from light to darkness,
the German soldiers retreated in disorder, calling
for help.
And Louis Monet, with splendid courage, was
ready to take advantage of this panic so cleverly
brought about.
His broken sabre did rough and terrible execu-
tion.
Three times the officer drove it to the hilt into
living flesh. Shouts and yells followed:
“Help! Help!”
The men left in ambush at the entrance of the


146 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
alley ran forward in scattered formation. This
was what Louis Monet also had hoped for.
The lieutenant, with one shoulder bruised by the
butt of a gun, ran towards the second lot.
In the purest German and with absolute self-pos-
session, imitating the voice of the sergeant, he or-
dered:
“Forward, you brutes!—there are ten of them
over there.”
The soldiers in the darkness of the night were
deceived. Someone flying from the danger zone
had ordered them forward. It must be their chief.
And Louis Monet passed.
Leaving the alley and running at top speed he
rushed down a street endeavoring to distance those
who would inevitably soon be at his heels.
But he was not yet out of danger.
The streets were patrolled. At any moment he
might be challenged by a sentry.
Louis Monet then did a wise thing. He dropped
into a walk.
But where could he go? Where could he hide?
He might be able to escape detection in some dark
corner during the night. That would be to merely
postpone the evil hour.
“I must find the means to go about freely,” he
murmured. “I must get out of this invaded terri-
tory and continue the search for Colette.”
Alas! What he suggested seemed impossible to
realize. He thought.
“I am in uniform. At the first streak of dawn
my dress will give me away.”


FLIGHT I47
/
And this thought decided him.
The first thing to do was to find a change of
clothes.
But where could he find them.
Cirey seemed to have been entirely evacuated by
the French.
Before the invading horde, the inhabitants must
have fled, and if any, more courageous, had thought
of remaining, the bodies he had seen on the street
left him in no doubt of the fate reserved for
them.
The lieutenant went forward. Frequently he had
to turn sharply aside to avoid groups of uhlans walk-
ing about.
Ah, if only he could get out of Cirey and gain the
open country
But he was too well convinced that the precautions
taken by the Germans made such a plan impossible.
Undoubtedly the village had a cordon of troops
around it.
What was to be done?
He came to a decision:
“Can't help it. I must take the risk.”
He supposed that the army of occupation had
naturally requisitioned the houses—that in each
would be found a billet of officers or men. But
there was a chance that not all of them had been
taken.
“May my lucky star protect me,” he murmured.
He decided to chance knocking at a door.
He reasoned thus:
“The soldiers will pick out the most comfort-


XV
FATALITY
HERE was not a moment to lose if Louis Mo-
net really wanted to succeed in his extraor-
dinary undertaking.
The patrol might be perhaps at the end of the
street, so he had about five minutes ahead of him to
work in.
“The deuce take it if I can't break in that door in
the time,” he murmured.
A quick survey of the lock brought forth a growl:
“Luck doesn't seem to be coming my way.”
And in truth he had good reason.
The lock was one of those safety ones and the
screws which held it were put in from the inside.
“Not the least hope of forcing it,” he muttered.
As for the door, it was solid and strong and made
of good oak.
“The best thing I can do is to go elsewhere,” he
decided.
The house was slightly back from the road. He
ran quickly to the sidewalk with the intention of
trying another house.
However, before venturing further, he took the
precaution of glancing up and down the street.
And lucky for him he did so.
The patrol had come to a halt on his right.
I49


150 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Now, this stoppage was made for the purpose of
rejoining another patrol coming from the left.
Louis Monet muttered:
“It's becoming simpler and simpler. I can
neither go to the right nor to the left and if I re-
main where I am I shall be caught inevitably.”
He had only a few seconds to decide in.
His situation was quite as critical as it had been
in the alley.
He was about to resign himself to his destiny as
a new thought struck him:
“What about my mission? If I can't open the
door, why not try the windows?”
The lower ones were protected by wooden shut-
ters only. The usual iron bars were absent.
Louis Monet summoned all his strength and at-
tacked the one nearest at hand.
The shutters yielded so easily that he nearly fell
backwards. He was now face to face with the win-
dow.
It would have been a simple matter to break it to
pieces with one blow of his sabre hilt, but the noise
of falling glass would certainly be heard by the
patrol.
Louis Monet now gave a fresh proof of his quick
wit.
He removed a ring from his finger and using
the diamond it contained, he began to cut the
glass.
The broken piece fell inside with slight noise,
having slid down the drawn curtains.
Louis Monet now put his hand through and un-


FATALITY I 5 I
fastened the hasp, then sprang in and closed the
window again.
It was time !
The steps of the patrol passed by a moment later
and he gave a sigh of relief.
When parting the curtains, he had caught a
glimpse of the interior, enough to identify the room
as being a dining-room.
“The outside danger has passed,” he declared,
“but what shall I find here?”
On tiptoe and taking infinite precautions, he felt
his way along the wall, looking for the door. When
he had found it a fresh anxiety arose. Would it
creak when he opened it? Would he not awaken
his improvised hosts? And who were they?
French people or German soldiers?
Just as he expected, the door emitted a wail, all
the more prolonged for the slowness with which
he opened it.
“Charming music,” he murmured. “I shall be
challenged without doubt.”
But the house remained silent and peaceful.
After a brief reflection, he decided:
“By Jove! I can't be wrong. These people
must be devilish tired to sleep so heavily. Now I
fancy the French who remain at Cirey won't be in
any mood to sleep, consequently I shall probably
find myself face to face with Prussian officers.”
He advanced further until he reached a staircase.
His hand touched the banisters and he determined
to go up.
Under his weight, the stairs creaked strangely.


152 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“It's amazing,” he thought. “I don't seem to .
wake a soul.”
He was still more surprised on reaching the first
landing not to hear a sound of any sort.
“Must be the house of the Sleeping Beauty,” he
said to himself.
Feeling his way along the walls, he ended by
reaching another door.
This must lead to one of the sleeping rooms.
By opening it he would be burning his bridges.
Without a moment's hesitation Louis Monet
turned the handle and entered the room.
Again nobody.
“My word, the house is empty,” exclaimed the
lieutenant.
But as he said it something very much alive struck
him in the chest, climbed over his shoulders and
fled away.
With an oath he sprang to one side. Again his
luck was against him. For he bumped into some .
piece of furniture apparently covered with fragile
Ornaments.
With a clatter and bang this fell to the ground.
Then in spite of himself, Louis Monet burst out
laughing.
“This time I've done it.”
But after the racket had ceased the house again
became silent as before.
Had he had the luck to enter an empty house?
Was it possible that a single house had escaped
being requisitioned by the Prussians?
Louis Monet calmly lit a match.
A 2-T.,


FATALITY I 53
The first thing he noticed was a large bed which
was empty and unmade. A night table stood by
its side and upon this was a candle.
“Must be the palace of a thousand and one
nights,” he exclaimed almost joyously.
He lit the candle and examined the room. Near
the door he noticed the crockery he had thrown
down. After a brief survey he concluded:
“A spare room. Let's try elsewhere.”
Taking his candle he went into the passage.
There he discovered what had struck him as he
entered. An enormous cat, with back up and flam-
ing eyes, sat watching his every movement. Louis
Monet did not stop to pet it.
Another door faced him. This he opened sud-
denly and then he started back in fear, cold from
the unpleasant impression he had received.
The room in disorder, showed only too charac-
teristic details.
Near the bed were two large brass candlesticks
with half-burned candles in them.
Upon the chairs petals of flowers were scattered,
evidently dropped from bouquets.
“Ah,” he cried, “one would say a funeral had
taken place here. Perhaps the Germans have re-
spected the house through superstitious fear !”
Some papers lay on a table. These Louis Monet
glanced over. They explained why the invading
army had been given orders not to occupy the
house.
They contained a doctor's certificate to the effect
that the patient had died of typhoid fever.


154 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Upon making this discovery Louis Monet could
hardly refrain from a gesture of alarm.
As a matter of fact what was he doing in the
house?
He had come to find clothes.
Would he not be obliged to put on the dead man's
clothes, and possibly die of typhoid?
“Can't help it,” he declared after a moment's
thought. “To die one way or another isn't of great
importance. Besides the period of incubation is
long enough to allow me to fulfill my mission and
find Colette.”
So, in spite of the sinister surroundings, the young
man opened a wardrobe.
He smiled at what he saw there.
“That will make a capital disguise,” he said to
himself.
The clothes hanging up belonged to a priest.
Chance had brought him to a priest's house.
Louis Monet hesitated no longer.
Hastily he took off his uniform and donned the
clerical garb.
To be sure the robe was a trifle too narrow in
the shoulders and a bit too long, but it could be
buttoned.
“Now, I have only to take off my boots and
trousers and my disguise will be complete.”
Indeed he was about to finish his toilette when
suddenly in the silence of the night a loud ring at
the bell startled him.
Who could it be? Some relative of the dead per-
son or the patrol?


FATALITY I 55
Louis Monet thought:
“Bah! If I couldn't break in the door how can
they? I'll just keep quiet and they'll soon get tired
of ringing and go away.”
But a second and then a third ring followed.
Louis Monet, standing by the window, was now
able to overhear the conversation below.
“Colonel, there is nobody here!”
“Ring again, idiot!”
A Prussian officer and his orderly stood at the
door.
From one side came the sound of horses' hoofs.
They were doubtless the mounts of these obsti-
nate visitors.
“Let them ring. I shan’t stir,” Louis Monet de-
cided.
“Ring again, Karl I Can't you see there is a light
at the window! Someone has probably heard us
and is dressing to come down.”
Louis Monet cursed.
How imprudent of him to keep the candle lighted.
“After all, there are only two of them,” he
thought. -
“I’ll let them in and if they are too curious I'll
knock them down with the first object that comes to .
my hand. I’m worth two Germans at any ratel”
The lieutenant had forgotten his strange costume.
Beneath the long priest's robe his boots and spurs
stuck out.
Fortunately he had never worn a moustache.
“I’ll risk it,” he decided.
He clattered down stairs and unbolted the door.


156 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“What do you want, officer?”
The Prussian politely took off his cap.
“Abbé, I would like to have a word with you.”
There was no way of avoiding the request.
“Please come in, sir.”
Candle in hand, Monet led the way to the dining-
room.
“Abbé,” explained the colonel, who was easily
recognized as being a staff officer, “I must apologize
for disturbing you at such an hour, but events—”
“Ah, yes, events,” said Monet in a solemn voice.
The officer quickly turned to him.
“Then you know? Someone has told you?”
“No, no, I know nothing—I simply referred to
the war.”
The two men had entered the dining-room.
“Kindly sit down.”
“Thanks, Abbé.”
Louis Monet himself was about to sit on the table,
but remembered in time that such an attitude would
not be becoming in a priest. He chose a chair in-
stead.
“Abbé,” continued the Prussian. “I am here
upon a matter which concerns your holy ministry.”
“Very good,” replied Louis Monet.
At this moment the lieutenant made a discovery.
“Good lord,” he thought, “I mustn't turn my
head, I have no tonsure!”
“Abbé, I must begin by asking you an indiscreet
question.”
“Pray do, officer.”


FATALITY I 57
Louis Monet began to grow weary. He was not
accustomed to sitting still. Mechanically he crossed
his legs.
But no sooner had he done so than he felt a pang
of alarm.
He discovered that he still wore his boots and
spurs!
He uncrossed his legs in haste and tucked them
under his chair, thinking:
“How the deuce can I take off my spurs without
being seen 2 I can no longer move hand or foot.”
The Prussian officer continued:
“The question is this: Are you a true believer?
Are you ready to face danger and annoyance to per-
form your duties as priest?”
“Sir, a priest does not hesitate. Martyrdom has
its charms for him.”
This answer seemed to relieve the colonel.
“In that case,” he declared, “my mission is very
much simplified, for you are the priest I was in
search of. Besides you can make your mind easy.
The danger you run is only apparent. I give you
my word of honor that no harm will come to you.”
The gravity of the colonel, and the strangeness of
his words caused some anxiety to Louis Monet.
“What am I to do?”
The Prussian rose.
“Abbé, I will explain in a few words. A woman
is about to be shot—or rather that is not quite it—a
woman is to be suppressed. The method used
makes little difference. This woman, for special


FATALITY I 59
not continue to live. Even her death must not be
known. In a word, Abbé, it is necessary that you
should not recollect the place where you are to see
her.”
The false abbé demanded:
“Explain, I beg you. What conditions are im-
posed upon me?”
“You must permit us to blindfold you first of all.”
“Very well, you may blindfold me.”
“Then you must swallow a drug.”
“A drug? What do you mean?”
“Oh, a quite harmless drug—a light soporific.
This will insure a lapse of time before you could
talk of what had happened. And this time we
need.”
All this seemed far from clear and the colonel
was right in supposing that a priest might hesitate'
to agree.
But the Prussian was not dealing with a priest but
with a soldier whose heart was filled with anger.
What an abominable crime was this studied and
calculated murder spoken of in such cold blood!
“Well, it can't be helped,” thought Louis Monet.
“If I have to die I shall die, but no one shall say
that I shrank from a like adventure.”
Louis Monet accepted without hesitation.
“I do not feel that I have the right to refuse
what appears to be my duty. You may blindfold
me. I will drink what you wish me to drink, but I
will answer the call of this penitent.”
“Are you ready to follow me?”
“Whenever you wish, officer.”


16O THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Louis Monet stepped back, and in doing so his
spurs clanked. He quickly added:
“Just a moment, to change my cassock. I dressed
rather hurriedly when you rang.”
“Certainly Abbé, certainly.”
The Prussian officer bowed.
“And allow me to compliment you. For a priest,
you are braver than a soldier.”
Louis Monet had to bite his lips to hold back a
retOrt.
The compliments of such a blackguard were
worse than the greatest insults.


XVI
SHE
HAVING removed his spurs, but kept on his
boots, for he could find no others in the priest's
wardrobe, Louis Monet returned to the dining-room.
The few moments he was alone had given him a
chance to reflect.
Was he really doing his duty in plunging into this
adventure, the consequences of which might be dis-
astrous?
Colonel Bayen had said:
“You must think of your mission before every-
thing. You no longer belong to yourself. You are
not free to do what seems good to you. You must
first save Francel”
But a second's thought convinced him that his duty
was actually to go with the colonel.
As to this woman, it suddenly came to him that
she might be no other than Mme. Brigitte Ravignon.
He had seen her with de Tersy, bound and a
prisoner.
He guessed that she was in possession of terrible
secrets, perhaps that of the yellow document.
His duty then would be to do his utmost to dis-
cover them.
The Prussian officer met him with a smile.
“You have not taken long at your toilette, Abbé,
161


162 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
a further cause for congratulation. As a matter of
fact, had you refused to come, my instructions were
to bring you anyway, by force if necessary. Again,
I say, you need be under no apprehension. No
harm will happen to you.”
“That is understood, Monsieur,” replied Monet.
“Then allow me to blindfold you.”
“Now P”
“Yes. You must not have the least indication
of where you are going.”
But while the Prussian officer bound his eyes with
a heavy silk scarf, Louis Monet had a sudden
fear.
Was he not being caught in the most transparent
of traps?
This story of the woman about to be murdered
seemed most unlikely. Might it not have been
invented to lead him, undefended, to a violent
death?
The Prussian officer having tied the bandage took
the lieutenant amiably by the arm.
“Allow me to guide you, Abbé, as you will be
blind for a short while.”
Then he added in an off-hand tone:
“By the way, I forgot to mention, having complete
confidence in your word of honor, that upon the
slightest move on your part to uncover your eyes I
have orders to blow out your brains.”
“Very well, Officer. I shall do nothing that
would interfere with my ministration to my peni-
tent.”
The colonel became more and more amiable. He


SHE 163
warned Monet of each obstacle.
“Take care, Abbé. Raise your foot, there is a
step. Now, lean on me. Here we are at the car-
riage.”
A few moments later he took his place in the car-
riage. He easily recognized it as being an old lan-
dau for hire which had doubtless been requisitioned
when the Germans took possession of Cirey.
The horses started off at a round trot, turning
rapidly to right and left, then apparently going in a
circle.
After five minutes Louis Monet gave up all hope
of following the direction taken.
The Prussian officer began questioning the sup-
posed abbé. Apparently he belonged to the for-
midable German espionage organization.
Was the spirit of France good? Did he expect to
be victorious? Himself, he was convinced that it
would be over in a few days—and besides, if France
were absorbed by Germany it would be for her own
good. “We would give her our culture—we would
teach her commerce and industry—in a word, we
would help her to become civilized.”
Louis Monet could hardly hold himself in. He
declared with fury:
“Sir, I consider that France is civilized—and that
Germany is a land of barbarians. Excuse me for
speaking so frankly, but doubtless you forget that
you are talking to a Frenchman.”
The colonel growled out a few words, then asked:
“You have not brought what is necessary to ad-
minister the sacrament?”


164 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“No, because I did not have the accessories in the
house. Besides, I cannot believe that this woman is
to be executed—I hope I may be allowed to intercede
for her.”
“You are mistaken, Abbé. The decisions of the
Kaiser are irrevocable.”
“The decisions of justice are still more irrevoca-
ble,” replied Louis Monet. “Murder has to be paid
for, cowardice expiated.”
But he quickly realized that he must observe a
more prudent attitude if he did not want to expose
himself to fresh danger.
“Allow me to pray, Monsieur,” he said.
After about an hour's ride in the carriage Monet
had the impression that they had turned into a
graveled road, probably an avenue leading to a
house.
“We have arrived. I will help you to get out;
Abbé.”
Louis Monet, leaning on the arm of his guide,
stepped onto a path.
“Follow me,” ordered the officer. “Put your
hand on my shoulder and walk without fear.”
After a few steps, he spoke again.
“Lift your feet, there are four steps to go up.”
With nerves on edge and his curiosity excited to
the highest pitch, Monet made an observation which
rather surprised him.
It seemed that they were entering, not an inhab-
ited house, but a building under construction.
He noticed the cool air that comes from stones
freshly put in place and cemented. Also an odor


SHE 165
of plaster and chalk. The humidity was evident.
“I am being taken to a cellar,” he thought.
But a moment later he found himself walking on
a thick carpet.
“Please sit down, Abbé. A moment of patience.”
He bowed without speaking.
Where was he? What was happening?
Was he alone in the room with the Prussian officer
or were there others watching him?
He could hear nothing. The silence was abso-
lute.
After a few moments Monet felt a strange phys-
ical impression.
Very brave, he had never known fear ! He
was now to know the throes of that atro-
cious feeling which tortures and breaks down the
spirit.
“Ah! I was mad to come here ! I've fallen into
a trap.
“This Prussian officer undoubtedly belongs to the
spy service and I run the risk of meeting Ravignon
or de Tersy. If either of these men catch sight of
me, it's all up.”
At this moment a new voice broke the silence.
“Send away the masons. The priest is here.”
He did not understand the meaning of these ex-
traordinary words.
Steps approached him. Another voice spoke:
“Abbé, your guide told you the conditions under
which you can see your penitent?”
“Yes.”
“So you will not refuse to take this drug?”


SHE 167
He was obliged to go up steps and down others.
Vainly he tried to get some knowledge of his sur-
roundings.
At length a door opened and he was pushed for-
ward.
“Abbé, you may remove your bandage now.
Monet tore it off and found himself in the middle of
a sumptuously furnished room. Bookshelves arm-
chairs, a sofa, and numerous card tables filled the
space.
But what he noticed most particularly was the
wall opposite. An enormous breach had been made
in it, recently filled in with bricks, of which several
seemed not even to be sealed.
What did it mean?
Was this the work the masons were doing when
ordered away?
Surrounding him were three officers. They had
revolvers in their hands with triggers cocked ready
to fire.
Louis Monet thought:
“Well, I couldn't get out of here alive if I tried
to ſ”
One of the officers he recognized with a start.
It was the same individual who had signaled Ra-
vignon.
“Abbé,” said one of his jailers, in a menacing and
sarcastic voice. “You are now about to learn a
State secret. Look!”
He then went to the wall and removed several of
the bricks.


SHE 169
moved and spoke automatically, and found the
words instinctively that a priest would have used in
his place.
Colette went on:
“Father, I begged permission to see you, saying
that I wished to confess. But it is not a confession
that I want to make—it is a mission I would en-
trust to you. Father, I beg you to listen with all
your soul to the prayer of one about to die.”
Louis Monet guessed that these words had a se-
cret meaning.
“Father, I had a fiancé whom I adored with all
my heart. I would have given my life a thousand
times for him. Father, I want you to find him.”
“What is his name?”
Colette looked him in the eyes.
“My fiancé is Louis Monet—he is an officer in
the 32nd dragoons. I want you to tell him that he
will be in my thoughts until I die—that I have been
worthy of his love, and that I order him to do his
duty as I have done mine.”
Colette's voice trembled. She repeated:
“As I have done mine.”
Louis Monet understood the importance of these
words.
Undoubtedly the young girl wanted to reassure
him about the yellow document.
She continued:
“Tell him not to worry over me—not to weep—
that I even forbid him to think of me until the war
is over. Let him fight! Let him accomplish his
mission—as an officer.”


SHE 171
Why didn't he know that it needed the monstrous
imagination of Krampft—of Ravignon—to at-
tempt to make Colette pass for a child of the abom-
inable master of Germany?
“The emperor's bastard!” he cried. “I don't be-
lieve that! If it were so why would the Kaiser have
her murdered?”
“State secret,” said the officer simply.
“Then why this torture? Why the horror of
this death, slow and cruel? It isn't true ! She is
not the Kaiser's daughter l’”
“State secret,” replied the officer again.
“State secret!” Monet cried, forgeting all pru-
dence. “Then I'll make this state secret known
throughout the world! And the whole world will
punish your infamous master.”
“No Abbé. You will say nothing,” answered
an officer calmly. “Tell me, haven't you a strange
sensation in your hands—a heaviness of head? Are
you not very thirsty?”
Louis Monet grew pale.
Yes, that was quite true. He had noted the
symptoms. He shouted:
“You have poisoned me!”
“No, make your mind easy. Come, Abbé, I will
explain—only I do not want the woman to hear.”
“I don't want to leave her!”
“Oh, you will see her again, I give you my word.
I’ve only a couple of words to say to you.”
Louis Monet glanced at Colette. Her eyes said
obey and he obeyed.


XVII
TOWARDS FORGETFULNESS
66CN IT down, Abbé.”
The officer had taken Louis Monet into an ad-
joining room furnished with soft carpets, and tapes-
tries on the walls. One could speak here without
fear of being overheard.
The officer lit an excellent cigar.
“I’m sure you think you have been poisoned, Abbé,
in spite of my assurances to the contrary; won't you
believe me?”
“I don't know what to think. I believe you ca-
pable of anything.”
The officer bowed ironically.
Possibly he took it as a compliment.
“Capable of anything? You exaggerate. But ca-
pable of many things. Besides, you will soon know.”
The officer took several puffs at his cigar.
“Abbé, you have just heard that the girl who is to
die is the Kaiser's bastard. That is a serious mat-
ter—but there is something still more serious. By
the way, how do you feel?”
“I feel an extraordinary torpor, my head is
heavy and my eyes smart. I have occasional
dizziness.”
The Prussian nodded at each symptom.
“Very good—that's it exactly.”
172


TOWARDS FORGETFULNESS 173
He gave a short laugh, blew some smoke into the
air and continued:
“You might easily guess that we would take pre-
cautions against the possibility of your spreading
abroad this troublesome business—French ideas are
so stupid, as in fact are those of the world.”
Louis Monet now felt a violent headache.
“I don't understand you.”
“You will, Abbé. In a word, we were anxious
to give this girl the consolation of an interview with
you and at the same time make it impossible for you
to spread the story; so we had to discover a method
of depriving you of any recollection of what had
taken place. You understand?”
“No 1" shouted Monet. “Explain! If you have
poisoned me, say sol”
“That wasn't necessary. We have no hesitation
in killing when it is necessary, but not otherwise.
You have not taken poison, Abbé.”
“Then you intend to keep me prisoner?”
The officer shook his head.
“A prisoner might escape some day. We thought
of something else.”
“For pity's sake, what?”
“A very simple plan.”
The German gloated over the evident anguish of
his victim.
“We made you drink a mixture of laudanum, bella
donna, and curare.”
“Yes, and this soporific—if that's all it is?”
“It is something more, Abbé. Its effects vary.
May I explain them to you?”


174 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Go on! Go on!”
Monet would have risen, but his legs gave way
under him.
“This draught will first produce a deep sleep
which will last four or five hours.”
“And when I wake?”
“Ah, you will then, Abbe, understand the ingenu-
ity we have used in mixing this drink. When you
wake you will have completely forgotten everything
that happened from the moment you drank the po-
tion until the moment you open your eyes.”
Louis Monet felt himself to be the plaything of
some hideous nightmare. He would forget every-
thing that had happened. He would forget that he
had seen Colette, that she was William II's bastard.
He would forget the horrible death of the heroic
child, and perhaps that she had ordered him to ful-
fil his mission before everything.
“It isn't possible !” he cried.
“I beg your pardon,” replied the officer, “it is
most possible. For instance, when you wake you
will remember that I went to your house to get you
to come to a dying woman—and that is precisely
what you may have to testify to some day. There-
fore it is useful that you remember it. For the rest,
your discretion is absolutely guaranteed by the power
of the drug.”
“Then since I am to forget everything, why not
tell me more?”
“Ask me what you want to know?”
“Well, tell me why you invented all this?”
The Prussian seemed at a loss.


176 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“That's all right! The drug has done its work.
This chap will have a great sleep and nothing can
wake him up ! The next thing is to get rid of him.”
The officer was mistaken.
Monet was not asleep. In fact, he was wide
awake.
The idea had come to him to try the only ruse
left.
He must take some notes before the drug made
him insensible. These he could use when he woke
up again?
But how to take them?
His one chance lay in hastening his departure.
Probably they would send him back to Cirey. He
thought:
“Ah! Let me but find the yellow document and
end this horrible mission and then I shall be free to
lay down the burden of my life.”
Colette was lost.
She would sacrifice herself for her duty to France.
He, too, would do his duty and then seek death in
serving his country against the Germans.
The officer interrupted his thoughts by calling:
“Karl | Ulrich! Put this man in the carriage
that is waiting. The coachman has the necessary
instructions.”
Louis Monet felt himself lifted, limp and lifeless,
by two servants who placed him on the cushions of
the landau. A voice asked:
“Are you going with him?”
“No, that isn't necessary. He will sleep until five
or six tomorrow evening.”


TOWARDS FORGETFULNESS 177
He was to go alone! So much the better.
He would be better enabled to fight against
sleep.
The door of the landau was shut and bolted. In
a moment the carriage started.
Louis Monet cautiously opened his eyes.
Would it be possible to recognize the road they
were taking? In that case he might return in the
hope of rescuing Colette. But he found himself in
total darkness.
As an extra precaution the wooden shutters pro-
tecting the window glass had been closed.
Louis Monet once more plunged into despair.
“I have neither pencil nor pen nor even a pin to
scratch notes on my cuff,” he said to himself. “Be-
sides, if that were even possible, the danger would be
too great for they might be discovered.”
And then suddenly an idea came to him.
He still wore the diamond ring he had used to cut
the window pane in the priest's house.
Why not use it again to cut a few words on the
carriage window?
The lieutenant understood shorthand which made
the task simpler. He began tracing:
“Colette innocent—Colette daughter of Kaiser—
Colette walled up alive,” and he added: “Yellow
document must be saved. I have Colette's ring on
my finger.”
But as he finished the last words a fresh anxiety
took hold of him.
These notes would be of no avail because he
would not remember that he had made them,


SECOND PART
TOWARDS WICTORY





THE HEAD OF THE SERVICE
WHEE the unfortunate Louis Monet was being
taken bleeding and unconscious towards an
unknown destiny, a strange scene was being enacted
in the villa which the emperor of Germany had
made his headquarters. The Kaiser stood in a
sumptuous room, one elbow on the mantelpiece,
smoking a large cigar and commenting to his bastard
son with joyful confidence on the first results of the
campaign.
“This war is quite simple and will be soon over.
Austria will supply me with her enormous siege
guns. Liège will not resist. Namur may give me
more trouble—in any case a week is enough for the
invasion of Belgium—the French will wait for me on
the Alsace frontier. Now the mobile wing of my
armies is moving by the north. You follow me, de
Tersy?”
The bastard did not seem quite at his ease. He
wondered what William II was driving at.
He was terrified of saying the wrong thing and
bringing upon himself one of those crushing replies
for which the Kaiser was famous.
“Sire, not one of your words is lost.”
William II smiled:
“Call me ‘father'—nobody hears us.”
181


THE HEAD OF THE SERVICE 183
It was from there that the individual had dared
to bid defiance to the master of Germany.
Who was this personage?
Tall, slight, well built, with close-cropped light
hair, he wore a beard and moustache so perfectly
trimmed that one might doubt whether they were
real. His eyes were hidden under blue glasses and
his coat was long and tightly buttoned, giving him
the appearance of a Protestant clergyman. His
hands were gloved.
Who was he?
A servant of the Kaiser or some French patriot
ready to revenge the invaded territory? Whoever
he might be he continued to listen to the conversa-
tion, growling from time to time.
“What idiots!”
Then, as the Kaiser repeated:
“Success is certain. This war will be a series of
uninterrupted victories,” the unknown calmly de-
clared:
“And what about the yellow document?”
Thereupon, this individual slowly and carefully
left his hiding place. He pressed a secret spring,
the wall opened, and he found himself in a hall.
He muttered, it may have been ironically:
“And yet the emperor's will must be obeyed"
He then took a few steps towards a room from
which voices were heard:
But if the emperor's will should lead to the down-
fall of Germany? “Ah, well, we must save our
masters—in spite of themselves!”
He entered the room where a dozen persons were


184 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
gathered, who rose at his approach, bowing re-
spectfully.
“Howdy do, gentlemen. These are my orders.
You Ulrich and you Karl will remain on duty at the
door of the room his majesty is occupying. Two
others will watch the person who is now in conver-
sation with his majesty. You will also get rifles and
cartridges from my personal baggage—my servant
will give them to you. These will be used for the
execution you know of. Another thing—is the
bandage ready that I ordered?”
“Yes, chief.”
“You will see that it is used to bind him.”
“Yes, chief.”
“Has the ditch been dug?”
“It has been dug, chief.”
“In that case the execution can take place?”
“Certainly, chief.”
“Very good. Choose six soldiers. I'll go and
see our man and I will give you the signal.”
This strange master, who was treated with such
respect, moved towards the door.
“It is understood that nobody is to be allowed
near—that is your work, gentlemen.”
“It shall be done, chief.”
Chief—of what service?
A German could have answered that question.
There is in Germany a service that is not spoken
of without a shudder.
Its title is simple: Secret Service. By that is
meant, Espionage Service.


THE HEAD OF THE SERVICE 187
not Ravignon. As for Krampft, I don't know who
he is. My name is La Flemme, orderly of Lieuten-
ant Monet. Does that suit you?”
La Flemme calmly sat down on the wooden
bench.
Rauerdt wondered if he could be dreaming.
Two hours earlier he had seen Krampft—Ravignon
—arrested in the emperor's study and brought to
this cell and now—
“How did you get here?” he asked sharply.
“And where is Krampft?”
“You're inquisitive, aren't you?”
La Flemme jumped up, clanking his spurs.
“Well, I'll tell you how it is. You see, I was
looking for my lieutenant—a landau passes—nat-
urally I chase it—my lieutenant was inside Then
out pops some of your soldiers from a hedge—they
pinch me—thirty they were against me.”
“And then?”
“Then they brought me here.”
“But Ravignon?”
“Why, Ravignon was here.”
“Ravignon was here, but he isn't here now?”
“So it seems—well, then they shoved me into
this cell. But just as I came in I passed M'sieur
Ravignon. Then I don't exactly know what hap-
pened. ‘Don’t stir,’ he says to me, “I’ll save your
lieutenant.' Then he said something else in German
to my guard and then he lit out. Since then I’ve
been waiting here. So I'm glad to see you and have
a chat.”


188 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Rauerdt, pale with anger, jerked out:
“You shall die.” Then turned and gave another
order.
“Bring here the firing squad.”
If La Flemme did not understand what had hap-
pened, Rauerdt understood only too well.
Krampft had simply seized the chance of escape
when another prisoner was brought in. This was
easy, as in the surprise of his arrest the other spies
had not been notified.
The two men who had brought in La Flemme
knew Krampft as being one of them and naturally
let him go.
Rauerdt went to La Flemme.
“You are to die. But if you tell me where the
yellow document is, I will let you go free.”
La Flemme shrugged his shoulders.
“I don't know where it is, and if I did I wouldn't
tell you.”
The door of the cell opened. Rauerdt pointed
to La Flemme:
“Take him away.”
“Are you really going to kill me?”
And, as nobody answered, he added:
“Guess you're mad because my lieutenant slipped
through your fingers. After all, you can put a dozen
bullets into me. My pals of the 32nd will return
them with interest.”
With that he burst into loud laughter.
Oh, truly death had no terror for him. He
would meet it with perfect calmness, an absolute and
complete contempt.


THE HEAD OF THE SERVICE 189
He placed himself in the centre of the squad and
shouted:
“Forward | March 1”
Twenty yards behind the patrol Rauerdt and one
of his spies were talking.
“The will of the emperor must be done,” said
Rauerdt. “For instance, Krampft was condemned
to death—and he is far away—that makes one. As
for Colette, de Monet and Brigitte Ravignon, you
will help me.”
Rauerdt's companion appeared to quite under-
stand; he nodded his head. Then, as the patrol
came to a halt by the side of an open grave, the
spy asked:
“But who is this fellow?”
“I don't know,” admitted Rauerdt.
“Has he spoken?”
“He says he knows nothing.”
The soldiers lined up opposite the dragoon.
The spy questioned Rauerdt.
“And we are to treat him?”
“Like the other one.”
“Very good, chief.”
The spy advanced to the condemned man.
“One moment. He must be blindfolded.”
Three minutes later a shout was heard.
“Vive la France/’’
And this shout was drowned in a salvo of
shots.
Rauerdt calmly smoked a cigarette.
“See to his burial,” he said to the spy.
“Very good, chief.”


190 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Rauerdt swung round and started in the direction
of the imperial villa.
“Krampft is far away—this one is—shot. Now,
for the other!”
Arrived at the house, Rauerdt quickly hid him-
self in one of those extraordinary passages in the
walls and made his way to the second story.
Suddenly he stopped. Through a spy-hole in the
wood, he saw an officer whom he knew.
This man, under the guise of a shopkeeper, had
kept an important agency at Nancy for the purpose
of urging French soldiers to desert.
The officer was surrounded by masons all belong-
ing to the espionage service.
But what interested Rauerdt was an enormous
breach in the wall through which he could discern
the delicate features of Colette.
“Krampft condemned to death—Colette buried
alive,” he muttered. “The emperor's will must be
done, but it's lucky I am here.”
Had he any pity—for the girl?
Assuredly not.
He must have simply said to himself that once
Colette was dead, all chance of recovering the yel-
low document would be gone.
The officer addressed Colette with cold indiffer-
ence.
“Come, you must be reasonable. Tell me, where
is the yellow document?”
Colette replied firmly:
“No, I shall not speak.”
“But we have kept our part of the bargain. We


192 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Colette made no reply.
“Close the breach.”
At length only a narrow crack remained.
“For the last time, will you speak?”
“Wive la France!” was the heroic reply.
The last brick was put in place.
Rauerdt looked on with apparent anger and con-
tempt. -
“How intelligent,” he murmured, as he rapidly
made his way along the passage. “Will you speak?
—No?—Then I shall kill you!”
The master spy laughed.
“The emperor's will must be done, no doubt of
that, but there is also no doubt that I must find the
yellow document.”
A moment later Rauerdt came downstairs and
satisfied himself that his spies were at their posts,
and on guard.
“This campaign begins interestingly for me,” he
said. “My rôle promises to be as important as was
Stieber's in 1870. Unfortunately I haven't a Bis-
marck to second me.
“But I have what they hadn't in 1870—an em-
peror's bastard to help me.”
Rauerdt reached the hall door. He seemed to
hesitate a moment, then pronounced these strange
words:
“Well, at any cost I must make my executed man
talk.”
And he gave a loud laugh.
* -


II
IT IS A LOVER
HE shutters—never open—allowed a soft light
to enter the large, well-furnished room, in the
middle of which stood a woman.
Half naked, a short skirt displaying her ankles,
and a low-cut corsage her superb shoulders, she
was playing the castanets and dancing with passion
and abandon truly Spanish.
Then suddenly one of her little slippers flew to the
ceiling and she stood motionless, panting, stretching
out her arms in a gesture of weariness.
“Carambaſ" she cried. “Santa Madona. I
haven't an ounce of steam left!”
What a strange creature was this dancer. She
passed from one emotion to another without pause.
Noisy, the moment before, she suddenly became
silent. And then with a quick bound she sprang to
a cheval glass, picking up a powder box on the way,
and began powdering her shoulders.
“Caramba/ It's warml”
A man's voice answered with a drawl:
“That's so—and it's good fun.”
“I’m thirsty,” exclaimed the dancer.
“You generally are. Whisky and soda?”
“No. Some water, vinegar and sugar.”
“Carlotta, you treat me like a pumpkin l’”
I93


194 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“You are not polite, my dear.”
“Bah! That's not necessary between us—and
besides, call me 'my lord.’”
The woman burst into laughter.
“My lord, you are delightful.”
“So are you, Carlotta.”
“You are gallant, your highness.”
“Come and sit down. You won't dance any
more?”
“No, I'm going to sing.”
The woman picked up a guitar and began tun-
ing it.
“Leave that alone. Remember it's Sunday.
You'll scandalize the neighborhood.”
“Then I'll go to sleep.”
“Yes, I think you'd better.”
From the depths of a sofa piled with soft cushions
a masculine figure emerged. It was Paul de Tersy.
William II's bastard was strangely dressed. He
wore sky blue pajamas with collar open, showing he
had been suddenly awakened from a prolonged siesta
by the singing and dancing of his mistress.
“Now,” he added, “get some rest.”
He seated himself on the edge of the sofa beside
Carlotta, who peacefully drank her strange mixture.
“You haven't been yourself since you came to
Berlin three days ago,” he remarked.
“Why, my lord?”
“You are all up in the air.”
“I have good reason to be.”
De Tersy rose and lighted a cigarette at a per-
fumed lamp that stood in one corner.


IT IS A LOVER I95
“Your destiny is a strange one,” he continued.
“You were a lion-tamer in a menagerie, which suited
your instinct, too. I pass by, see you—”
“Fall in love.”
“You please me—and you become a dancer in
Lunéville.
“Dio Santo/” What a bore that was 1”
“Then war broke out—”
“And you became the emperor's son.”
“I send for you, and here you are in Berlin in
this furnished apartment. Well, this is the right
kind of life. Money, a good time, and prospects!
Upon my word, being a bastard is a fine job.”
Carlotta suddenly flung herself at full length be-
side her lover.
This girl, “discovered” by de Tersy, was very
pretty like most young Spaniards.
A brown skin, large eyes and red lips, she was in
the flower of her beauty.
“The right kind of a life, yes,” she replied. “But
one must be careful and not be beguiled into a fancied
security. We both love money, my dear. So let
us try to get a fortune. By the way, are you quite
sure you are the emperor's bastard?”
De Tersy burst out laughing.
“That is the least of my worries,” he replied.
“The emperor thinks I am and that is the essential
thing.”
“Perhaps. What do the princes say to it?”
“They have neglected to tell me, my dear.”
“And when you spoke of me?”
“I haven't spoken of you.”


IT IS A LOVER 197
means that you will please be careful, hide yourself,
avoid making our liaison public—in a word, keep out
of sight.”
“Caramba/ You have nervel”
“Say, rather, I am sharp. I like you, you like me,
and everything is all right. Only, the day that you
cause me any annoyance, I fire you—understand?”
Carlotta had doubtless understood these menacing
words, but she was careful not to show it.
Humming an air, she began another dance in front
of the glass.
De Tersy shrugged his shoulders.
“And now I’ll say good night. Noblesse oblige.
—I must remember that I am the Kaiser's bastard.
I have engagements to keep. Until tomorrow—”
Twenty minutes later, in correct attire, de Tersy
left the apartment, frowning as he went downstairs.
If the truth were told, he felt slightly uneasy.
Had he not made a mistake in bringing this
woman here?
When he reached the street where the German
crowd was buying up editions of the newspapers
which gave the first news of the war, he threw off
his anxiety.
“Bah! We shall see. To begin with, nobody
knows that Carlotta is here !”
In the meantime Carlotta herself was thinking
deeply.
“He’s a fool, Santa Madona / He doesn't love
me, I only satisfy him. He might leave me at any
time. But there's a fortune to be had, if I can only
seize it.”


198 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
With half-closed eyes she viewed herself in the
glass.
“I’m foolish to be worriedl I’m beautiful.
After this one, another! The former mistress of
the Kaiser's bastard! Caramba! that is almost a
patent of nobility!”
Carlotta stretched herself on a sofa, hoping to
take a nap.
But she wasn't sleepy. Then she yawned—
“I’m bored ſ”
Her fine nostrils twitched.
“What an ugly town this Berlin is Always
smells of cabbage!”
She yawned again. Then an idea came to her.
“I’ll try my luck with the cards.”
She cut and dealt a hand.
Suddenly she paused and listened.
“Ah! Who can have rung the bell?”
The maid who opened the hall door found herself
in the presence of an unknown and well-dressed man,
who questioned her in the purest French.
“Madame Carlotta?”
“She lives here, Monsieur, but I don't know if
Madame—”
The visitor pushed his way into the hall.
“Go back to the kitchen.”
The young servant stared at him.
“To the kitchen?” she repeated.
“Right away!” replied the strange visitor.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Suddenly he took out a fifty-mark bill and handed
it to her.
-


IT IS A LOVER I99
“Take this—I haven't come to annoy your mis-
tress. She'll be glad to see me.”
Fifty marks have powers of persuasion, even in
the eyes of a good Spaniard.
The maid retreated a few steps.
Then the visitor advanced and opened the draw-
ing-room door.
“You are beautiful, Madame,” he began.
The servant burst into laughter.
“Divine Jesus—it's a lover!”
The visitor had addressed these words to Car-
lotta, bowing.
“You are beautiful, Madame—so beautiful that
you compelled me to follow you and force your
door. I beg you not to punish me by a cruel look
from your eyes.”
Upon hearing these strange words Carlotta won-
dered if she were not dreaming.
Who was this man addressing compliments to
her? What did he want? Where had he met her?
Anxious and yet pleased, Carlotta answered:
“But I don't know you, Monsieur—I don't know
how you dare—”
“I do not know how I have dared myself, Ma-
dame! I think that loving you must drive a man
mad—that is my excuse—I saw you—I wanted to
see you again and here I am. I would have given
anyone a fortune in exchange for your address.
That was not needed. I heard the sound of your
voice from the street—so I came up. The magnet
attracts iron as your beauty attracted my heart.”
“Señor, you amaze me.”


200 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Señorita, you intoxicate me!”
The man fell at Carlotta's feet. He trem.
bled.
Was he really what he seemed, a lover?
Carlotta, who was rather simple, was half in-
clined to believe him, although the whole affair was
so amazing.
Not knowing what to say and not daring to play
the rôle of a woman insulted by undesired advances,
she temporized:
“Señor, you came at a bad time—the cards were
“unfavorable.’”
“It isn't possible they can be against me!”
The stranger rose, took the pack, then flung them
on the table, announcing:
“Nine and ten of hearts! The triumph of love,
Señorita.”
Then, with an enigmatic smile, he drew out his
pocketbook and took from it a handful of bank
noteS.
“Señorita, I would like to keep these lucky cards
as a souvenir.”
So saying he placed the cards in his pocketbook,
leaving the banknotes in exchange.
“Señorita, I have a request to make.”
“What is it, Señor?”
“Grant me permission to tell you that I love you.”
Carlotta jumped up, laughing.
“Why, you've been telling me nothing else for the
last quarter of an hour !”
“Possibly, Señorita, but I would like to say it more
clearly. Your evening is free. Let us dine to-


IT IS A LOVER 2OI
gether. Tonight you must give me that rose you
wear in your hair.”
“Caramba/ You don't mean that!”
“Get ready, Madame.”
“Señor, it's madness!”
“Love, Señorita.”
“But I have a lover.”
“He is not coming to see you this evening.”
“I cannot compromise myself.”
“We will go to my house.”
“And run the chance of being seen!”
“A carriage is waiting for us.”
“Señor, I am not free.”
“Señorita, the swallows fly whither they will.”
Carlotta was puzzled. This lover who so dar-
ingly intruded into her apartment and invited her
to dinner and who—an argument not to be scorned
—bought two cards with a handful of notes, seemed
very much in love, but slightly disturbing at the
same time.
“I don't know you,” answered Carlotta.
“Let me introduce myself.”
The stranger took a step nearer her and with the
outrageous cheek of a rich German exclaimed:
“Ten thousand francs for your evening.”
“My smiles are worth a fortune.”
“In that case, twenty thousand.”
“My good will is not to be bought.”
“The finest flowers in my conservatory?”
“Very well! Wait for me.”
Carlotta had suddenly made up her mind.
She was devoured with curiosity.


2O2 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
What did this man want? Who was he?
The best thing would be to see it through rather
than remain in uncertainty.
If the individual were merely a lover, it might be
worth while cultivating his acquaintance.
If his attentions hid other motives, she must learn
what they were.
In a few moments she was ready.
In spite of her simple origin, Carlotta had the in-
stinct of women accustomed to the strangest situa-
tions. Her dress that evening was a triumph of
diplomacy.
Without being too striking, it was elegant and
gave her the appearance of a woman of taste out
on a spree.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“You will see, Señorita.”
“What folly you are leading me intol"
“What kindness you are showing me!”
A private carriage was waiting outside.
Carlotta, who did not know Berlin, could not
guess the street they were taking. After a short
drive they stopped by the steps of a sumptuous-
looking mansion.
“Señorita, we have arrived.”
Carlotta got a good look at her lover. He was
about forty, black hair turning grey, his moustache
and beard carefully trimmed.
Undoubtedly he was rich. His dress indicated
as much and his house confirmed it.
His manner was so fervent that Carlotta thought:


IT IS A LOVER 2O3
“I was right to come. He is really a lover.”
But as she entered the hall, hung with old tapes-
tries, she had a strange impression.
About a dozen men dressed in black, evidently not
servants though common-looking, rose on the en-
trance of the pair.
Carlotta's cavalier spoke sharply:
“I am not to be disturbed—secret service. I shall
dine alone.”
She was surely mistaken.
Why did her host announce that he would dine
alone?
She turned to him instinctively and a half-stifled
cry escaped her.
His face had completely changed.
From dark he had become fair. He wore
neither moustaches nor beard. Eyeglasses were
on his nose. Carlotta was afraid. She would
have liked to run away. The man now took her
by the arm.
“Come on, don't be afraid.”
The man's manner had also changed. He spoke
sharply, commandingly, and with the characteristic
intonation of the German.
“Ah! Mamma Mia! Who are you?”
“Come in here,” replied the man.
He opened a door, pushing Carlotta before him,
then closed and locked it.
The room had a sinister look. It was long and
narrow, a cell without furniture. A bench ran
round the bare walls.


204 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Sit down. I want to talk to you.”
Carlotta collapsed rather than sat—more dead
than alive—upon the bench.
“It's cowardly! It's criminall” she cried.
“Who are you? What is your name?”
The man rolled a cigarette. With a slight smile,
he answered:
“Rauerdt.”
“The spy Rauerdt?”
“Spy is scarcely the word; say rather, the head of
the secret service of German espionage.”
And as Carlotta, shaking with anger, was about
to protest, Rauerdt suddenly ordered:
“That will do! Keep quiet! Listen to me. I
am your master.”
Carlotta sat dumbly, horribly afraid of this man.
“But—I have done nothing!”
“That is not the question.”
The master-spy of Germany calmly smoked his
cigarette, walking up and down the narrow cell.
Presently he asked:
“Are you calmer now? Will you listen to me?”
“Speak! Speak!”
Anything seemed better than the agony of this
silence 1
“To begin with your lover, Paul de Tersy, is an
imbecile. He took me for a simple spy. I am the
master of all the spies in Germany. I tell you this
for your own information. Now, I wish you no
harm, but you must obey me. You are going to
enter my service. You understand?”


IT IS A LOVER 2O5
“No.”
“I wish you to become a spy.”
“Never.”
“I must know, hour by hour, minute by minute,
what Paul de Tersy is doing. You will tell me.”
“You needn't expect that.”
“Later on, I shall have other work for you. If
you want an explanation I will give it to you. There
are serious questions to be solved just now. I can-
not use a woman in the ordinary service. I made
inquiries and think you will do.”
Carlotta drew herself up, brave in spite of her
fear.
“I will not obey you.”
Rauerdt did not seem to hear her. He continued
in the same cold, impassive voice: -
“As I must make sure of your discretion, that you
will not betray, I am taking a few precautions. I
shall dictate you a letter—a letter in which you ap-
pear to be conspiring with an accomplice to assassin-
ate the Kaiser. The day you commit an impru-.
dence, for instance, repeat this interview to anyone,
this letter will be used.”
“I refuse ! I refuse ! I shall write nothing!” .
“I may add,” continued Rauerdt that you shall be
recompensed for your work, and the secret service
pays well.”
“I don't want to be a spy! I shall write nothing.
I would rather die.”
“That is the only way in which you can resist me
—to die. There is no other way.”


206 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
The head of the secret service pulled down
from the wall a wooden shelf which served as a
table.
“Here is the model of the letter. You will be
brought paper and ink by and by. You have only
to copy it. You are intelligent. You will quite un-
derstand that after having written it you will have to
obey me willingly.”
Then, as though ignoring the horror and fear of
the unfortunate woman, Rauerdt went to the door of
the cell.
“You see this small window? When you finish
your letter, you will slip it through the opening.”
He paused and fixed a sharp look on the Spanish
WOman.
“Then, and only then, you will be given food—
until then you will get nothing. You have the choice
of dying of hunger or giving in. I hope you will
decide quickly, it would be stupid to resist. Good
evening, Madame!”
Carlotta saw her torturer disappear without hav-
ing the strength to protest.
But the door of her cell had scarcely closed than
a sudden fury took hold of her. She flung herself
against it; fists, nails, knees and feet she used in the
assault. She merely hurt herself without even shak-
ing the heavy door, and, at length, fell back ex-
hausted and conquered. She could scarcely believe
in the horror of her position.
Mad thoughts flashed through her mind.
Such crimes could not be committed.


IT IS A LOVER 2O7
They called for vengeance. She would complain
to the Spanish embassyl She would escapel
Alas! She quickly realized how impossible that
would be. Who would believe her?
And then, little by little, other thoughts came to
her.
After all, what mattered it what she did so long
as it paid her?
She would run no danger and she had been prom-
ised remuneration.
She crossed and looked at the model of the letter.
Then with a gesture of disgust, she exclaimed:
“I shall not yield.”
At this moment Rauerdt was dining alone in a
huge room.
The head of the secret service had a good appe-
tite. He went through his meal quickly and with
an air of contentment.
“An excellent thing to get hold of this woman,” he
thought. “She'll be useful. Ah! the emperor lit-
tle dreams of the game that is beginning. If he
should lose, he would take it out of me ! I must
foresee everything.”
An agent now brought in a number of documents.
Rauerdt looked them over while finishing his dinner.
“Any other orders, chief?”
“Yes!” replied Rauerdt. “Bring the man who
was shot into my office.”
“Very good, chief.”
Rauerdt dismissed his subordinate with a nod, and
attacked a dish of fruit.


208 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Another agent presented himself:
“Here is the document you expected, chief.”
Rauerdt cast his eyes over the paper.
It was the letter Carlotta had written.
Rauerdt did not seem surprised.
“Ah, this woman and I will get on together. She
yielded without much trouble—she's of no account.”
A master spy always despises those he employs.


III
MASTER AND VALET
66 ILL you answer, yes or no?”
“No.”
“You defy me then?”
“Looks like it.” -
“One day I shall lose patience with you.”
“That is quite possible.”
“And then I shall get rid of you without the least
difficulty.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I may order you to be shot.”
“For the second time? By the third time I shall
get accustomed to it.”
“You are playing a dangerous game.”
“What then? My life is insured.”
“You are mad to joke with me.”
“And do you think it is intelligent to try and
scare me?”
These dry, rapid and menacing replies were taken
and given without the least appearance that either
adversary would admit defeat. Who were these
two men, the one threatening, the other answering
with a careless laugh?
Behind a desk littered with papers sat Rauerdt
who, dinner over, had gone into his office. He was
the one who threatened, and the other was—La
Flemme,
209


2 IO THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
But had not La Flemme been executed by order
of the enigmatical Rauerdt?
Had La Flemme been asked himself, he would
have jokingly replied that he had fallen when the
shots were fired, but he would have added that he
had not been wounded.
What had happened?
Something very simple, though very mysterious.
When Rauerdt had entered the cell where La
Flemme was confined, he naturally expected to find
there Krampft.
Pale with rage at the substitution, Rauerdt had
not countermanded the execution.
The firing squad, seeing La Flemme fall, had cer-
tainly believed him to be killed.
Rauerdt, alone, could have undeceived them. He
knew they had used blank cartridges—had he not
furnished them himself? And if La Flemme had
fallen it was on account of the chloroform with
which his gag had been saturated.
But how did Rauerdt come to plan such a decep-
tion? While La Flemme knew how it had been
done, he certainly did not know why he had been
spared.
And this explanation Rauerdt had given to no-
body.
He had saved La Flemme in the same manner he
had decided to save Krampft. He believed that
La Flemme had knowledge relative to the yellow
document. Therefore every day he cross-ques-
tioned the orderly and without any result.
This time Rauerdt broke off abruptly.


212 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Have you any orders to give, chief?”
“Wait.”
Rauerdt tore open the envelope and drew out a
sheet of paper which contained only a cross in the
middle made with a blue pencil.
“No. I have no orders to give. You may go.”
Rauerdt rang and ordered his carriage. Twenty
minutes later he presented himself at the Pots-
dam palace and was shown into the Kaiser's study.
William II took no notice of his visitor. Dressed
in a colonel's uniform of the White Guards, he was
seated at his desk, writing. After a long pause, he
suddenly flung down his pen and sat back in his
chair.
“Well, Rauerdtl”
“Your majesty sent for me?”
“To discuss certain urgent measures with you.
You have read my report?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Then you are cognizant of the events I wish to
speak of—a cigar, Rauerdt?”
“I thank your majesty.”
“It is still a question of the yellow document.
What do you think? Have I done right?”
He enumerated his facts with raised fingers.
“Krampft is dead—a good thing too. He knew
of the existence of the document and he was quite
capable of betraying me. Colette is dead also.
Women are always talkative, but the dead cannot
speak. You can imagine how reluctant I was to
deal so severely with her, but it was a State duty.”
William II paused,
º >y =


MASTER AND WALET 213
Did he expect to take in his master spy by this
pretended pity?
“I have also been obliged to lock up Mme. Bayen.
She had information concerning the document.
Now, one person mixed in this affair has escaped
me—the French lieutenant, Monet. I don't know
what has become of him. Now, my dear Rauerdt,
answer me frankly—have I acted wisely?”
Rauerdt bowed.
“Your majesty is always right.”
“That is the answer of a courtier.”
“It is the answer of a devoted servant.”
“Who does not want to compromise himself.”
“Who knows that your majesty does not act with-
out giving due consideration to events which your
majesty alone knows.”
The emperor burst out laughing.
“Come, yes or no, have I done right? That is
all I ask you.”
“I have already answered your majesty.”
“Come, Rauerdt, be frank—talk to me as to a
friend.”
“Sire, as a friend, I would say that a friend al-
ways approves of the actions of those dear to him.”
“Then I order you to give me your opinion.”
“In that case, your majesty, I would say that the
yellow document is of colossal importance and that
your majesty cannot give up the search for it.”
“Well, and then?”
“Then you majesty will see that it is necessary to
make these persons speak: Colette, Monet,
Krampft, Mme. Bayen.”


214 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“What's that you say? Krampft and Colette
cannot speak, they are dead.” -
Rauerdt seemed to hesitate, then suddenly came .
to a decision.
“Your majesty must forgive me contradicting you.
I do not think that Krampft is dead.”
“What!”
Rauerdt hurriedly explained what he knew of
Krampft's escape.
The emperor grew pale and seemed angry:
“With Krampft alive, the yellow document may
fall into the hands of the French. It must be re-
covered.” -
“Sire,” replied Rauerdt calmly. “With Krampft
alive we are certain of success. He can be bought.”
“We must find out where he is.”
“Your majesty will learn that. Krampft will cer-
tainly approach your majesty.”
“But why didn't you advise me? Why keep si-
lence? If I had known that Krampft had escaped,
I would have made other arrangements. Don't you
know that?”
“Sire, I know it so well that I have anticipated
your majesty's wishes.”
“In what way?”
“Your majesty will punish me if I have done
wrong. I decided that Krampft was necessary, so I
saved him. He is to be bought and he is to be
feared. I have the honor to announce that Colette
is under lock and key in one of my cells. Her neigh-
bor in the next cell is Lieutenant Monet. When


216 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“I had to know it to be of service to your
majesty.”
“Very good, Rauerdt. I thank you.”
The emperor paced up and down.
“Then the struggle concerning this cursed docu-
ment is not ended !”
“It is beginning, Sire.”
“We shall never find it.”
“I beg your majesty's pardon.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
“It is very simple. To begin with, at any cost
we must prevent Krampft taking his revenge. And
the best way to do this is to pretend a great confi-
dence in him. I suggest turning over the two pris-
oners to him, asking him to make them speak.”
“And suppose they won't speak?”
“Then I shall take a hand.”
“In what way?”
“I ask for your majesty's confidence.”
“Very good, and then?”
“Then I beg your majesty to undertake a difficult
task.”
“What one?”
“I want your majesty to interview Mme. Bayen
personally.”
“You don't mean that!”
“Sire, I am sure Mme. Bayen would tell you all
she knows about the yellow document.”
The emperor shrugged his shoulders.
Rauerdt slyly insinuated:
“I may recall to your majesty that Mme. Bayen
feels a maternal affection for Colette.”


MASTER AND WALET 217.
“Have you anything else to say, Rauerdt?”
“Nothing, Sire—yes—but I scarcely like to—”
“Go on 1’’
“I would like to ask your majesty what you have
decided in regard to Paul de Tersy, friend of the
spy Krampft.”
William II drew himself up:
“What do you mean to insinuate?”
“Whatever your majesty pleases to under-
stand.”
“You don't trust de Tersy? He is my son—my
bastard!”
“Sire, I neither trust nor distrust him. I watch
and judge his acts.”
After five minutes of deep thought, William II
broke the silence:
“You are right. I shall take measures. I am
very pleased with you.”
Then with a sudden laugh:
“Besides, you have done well to be frank with
me. If I sent for you tonight, it is because an hour
ago I was asked for an audience—by whom do you
think?”
“I don't know, Sire.”
“Read this card, my friend.”
“Krampft! That proves, Sire, that I was not
mistaken. This man comes with an offer.”
“I will buy him.”
And with a wave of his hand, the Kaiser dis-
missed Rauerdt.
As the master spy left the palace, he seemed
plunged in thought. He muttered to himself:


218 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“The struggle is beginning. On the one hand
Krampft, who stops at nothing and who wants my
place, on the other myself, whom the emperor
suspects. As judge: his majesty, a bungler, a fool!
Besides that, a war, and besides that this yellow
document which must be found.”
It was late.
The linden trees gave out the perfume of their
flowers.
Rauerdt took a deep breath. He seemed to be
storing up energy.
Suddenly he muttered these mysterious words:
“Krampft has a weakness for de Tersy. But
de Tersy is in my hands through Carlotta. Besides,
I have a power, a terrible power—the ring! I
didn't mention the ring to the emperor, and was wise
not to. That is my last card.”
What was Rauerdt alluding to?
And of whom was he thinking, when he added:
“But there is that man—that extraordinary in-
dividuall Yes, I forgot him and he alarms me!”


IV
PARDON
THREE days later, on a spring morning, Rauerdt
stood on his steps and watched the groom
saddling his horse.
“The saddle is turning,” he remarked, “and who
told you to lengthen the stirrup leathers? Shorten
them a couple of holes.”
A moment later Rauerdt was riding toward the
outskirts of Berlin, with a smile of triumph on his
lips.
, “Everything is going well,” he thought. “His
majesty will take my advice about his bastard.
Well, we shall soon hear what he has to say.”
Rauerdt put his horse into a gallop, then suddenly
pulled him down to a walk again.
“After all, I needn't hurry. I'm ahead of time.”
His face clouded over a trifle.
“Lucky I told the emperor about Krampft the
other day. It would have been a bad business if
I had tried to hide it.
“Oh! I was forgetting that letter—that anony-
mous letter—what the devil does it mean?”
Rauerdt's face became livid.
What new thought had come to disturb him?
He reached the first paths of the Thiergarten and
made for the less frequented part of this largest of
Berlin's parks.
219


220 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
By this time he was very much out of humor.
What did that letter mean? Especially the extraor-
dinary signature attached to it. It had reached him
three days previously and had caused him the most
intense surprise.
“Do you care to recover,” it ran, “a document
of importance which is neither red nor blue, nor
white, nor violet, nor orange? If such is your
wish, reflect and decide to agree to the proposition
that will be made to you by
“THE MONSTER.”
At first Rauerdt thought it was some joke, but on
further reflection, he decided it was something quite
different. There was no doubt that it referred to
the yellow document. That being so, could he
afford to ignore any clew, however improbable?
And there had followed other letters from the
same correspondent and always anonymously signed
“The Monster.”
He was told to be on his guard—to beware of
the emperor, of Krampft, of de Tersy—especially
was he urged to help “The Monster.”
What man was it who had chosen this extraordi-
nary pseudonym?
Rauerdt wondered if he would ever meet his
strange correspondent. He put his horse at a trot
and decided suddenly:
“After all, there's no use worrying over it. The
future will clear it up. As for this “Monster,” I
undertake to bring him to reason if ever he appears.”


PARDON 22 I
The master spy brought his horse to a walk again
and lit a cigarette.
And then suddenly something happened. Less
than a yard in front of him, a man abruptly appeared
from a bypath, where he had remained hidden, and
seized his horse by the bridle.
Rauerdt lifted his riding crop, fearing an assault.
But immediately his arm dropped again, and leaning
forward, he stared at the man.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“You recognized me. Yes, it is really I.”
“The monster! You are the monster!”
Rauerdt felt a mixture of horror and pity for the
individual who had barred his way.
The man's face was corroded, burnt. The cheeks
were merely bleeding and terrible wounds, the nose
was eaten to the bone, and the lips torn off, partially
uncovering the teeth. He was truly a monster!
“You had better get off your horse, master spy,”
the man said calmly.
Something in the way the words were spoken
doubtless impressed Rauerdt, for he dismounted
without protest, passing the bridle over his arm.
“What do you want with me? Who are you?
Did you write to me?”
“Yes, Monsieur Rauerdt.”
“In that case, explain quickly.”
“Don’t worry! I have no desire to keep you.
“Monsieur Rauerdt, you know very well the sub-
ject I wrote about, so I needn't go into that.”
“You know who I am, but I don't know you.”
“That I shall tell you, without mentioning my


222 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
name. That wouldn't interest you and would convey
nothing to you, unless it were an old police affair.”
“A police affair!”
Rauerdt could not recall ever having seen the
man's hideous face before.
“Speak, I'm in a hurry,” he urged.
“Well, I am not. If you go you won't hear some
interesting things which I have to tell you.”
“Tell them, then ſ”
“When it suits me.”
The monster noticed at this moment that Rauerdt
had put his hand in his pocket. He burst out laugh-
1ng.
“You are thinking of your revolver—that is
stupid. I'm not threatening you and besides, I may
as well tell you that you can't frighten me. I am
here to serve you, so—”
Rauerdt interrupted him:
“Listen to me. Yes or no, will you explain or
shall I call and have you arrested?”
“Call,” replied the monster.
Rauerdt was silent.
There was not a soul in this deserted part of
the park. Calling would be of no use—there was
nobody to hear.
“Explain yourself.”
“Very well, master spy. I am simply a convict.
That surprises you! You don't understand why I
tell you this, you who are the friend of the chief
of police? Well, I'll explain. I am a convict who
wants to be rehabilitated. That's all.
“Naturally, it will not surprise you, Monsieur
*_


PARDON 223
Rauerdt, when I say that I am an escaped con-
vict. If I apply to you it is to avoid being re-
taken.
“Not wanting to be caught, I had the ingenious
idea of disfiguring myself with vitriol. If I now
ask for a pardon, it is because I think myself able
to buy it. I want your absolute promise that I
shall not be bothered in the future—that I shall be
paid enough to enable me to live comfortably, and
in exchange I will see that you recover the document
that is neither red, blue, nor violet.”
“The yellow document!”
“Exactly. Do you agree?”
“You have the document?”
“Do you think I'm crazy?” cried the monster.
“One doesn't keep such things in one's pocket when
one interviews the master spy of Germany.”
“You know where it can be found?”
“I know a means of getting it, but upon one con-
dition.”
“What?”
“You must give me a piece of information.”
“What information do you want?”
“The whereabouts of Paul de Tersy.”
“What do you want with that young man?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, then?”
The monster shrugged his shoulders.
“Do you think I'm going to tell you everything?
Monsieur Rauerdt, take it or leave it—I demand
two things, the address of Paul de Tersy and the
promise I was speaking of. In exchange I will


224 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
recover the yellow document for you. It's quite
simple, accept my offer or refuse it!”
Rauerdt was more troubled than he cared to admit
to himself, and this trouble increased as his inter-
locutor continued:
“Another thing: you are not to warn M. de Tersy
of my visit! That would be unfortunate for you!
It would show that you had been tricked and M. de
Tersy would not fail to tell the emperor—or per-
haps his good friend Krampft!”
This was exactly what Rauerdt thought.
“Nor do not try to give me a false address.
Sooner or later I should revenge myself with all
the energy of which a man who has vitrioled himself
is capable.”
Rauerdt could not repress a shudder.
“Finally, I warn you that I make this proposition
today, but I shall not make it tomorrow. Time
passes. You must decide now.”
Rauerdt bit his lips till the blood came.
How could he resist this extraordinary person?
A struggle with him would be dangerous, for un-
doubtedly he was armed.
Rauerdt felt secretly afraid. He grew pale.
“Well, I am waiting l—and if my information is
correct, somebody will be waiting for you. So
hurry up.”
Then Rauerdt hesitated no longer.
While this strange and fantastic scene was taking
place in a remote corner of the Thiergarten, be-
tween Rauerdt and the unknown, some distance away


226 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“They came from the Potsdam Palace, for
Madame, with this letter.”
Brigitte tore open the envelope and read the
contents with fresh surprise and deep anxiety.
“Madame, I suffer, I am sorry, and I hopel All
this I wish to tell you, and I shall come to you this
morning to ask your pardon.
“WILLIAM.”
William, the Kaiser, the sanguinary demon, had
sent her these flowers, had dared to write to her,
to announce his visit!
With a gesture of rage, Brigitte flung the flowers
on the ground and trampled them under foot.
The emperor wanted to see her. Very well, she
would receive him. He wanted to speak to her.
She would answer him.
“I will ask him for the life of Colette,” she mur-
mured, “if I am still in time.”
But little did Brigitte Bayen guess what part the
comedian William II dared to play before her.
When the emperor bowed gallantly before his pris-
oner, she exclaimed in a dull voice:
“What does your majesty want with me?”
“Madame, I have come to plead with you, to beg
you not to be ruthless.”
“You ask that of me!”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Why?"
“Because I suffer terribly. I have not come here


PARDON 227
to add to your sorrow, the thought of which fills
me with anguish. I am here to ask your forgive-
ness.”
“My forgiveness? That I cannot grant. My
country would forbid me. You are the emperor-
felon who at this moment is violating Belgium—the
villain who unloosed this war, the monster who is
sowing ruin and death everywhere. I cannot for-
give you. I hate you.”
“Madame, these reproaches are directed against
the emperor—but it is not the emperor who asks
forgiveness.”
“Who is it, then?”
“The man, Madame. An unhappy man.”
But, indeed, William II was badly taken in if
he thought his little comedy would disarm the hate
of his victim. -
Brigitte Bayen stopped him with sarcasm in her
voice.
“You dare to say that, Sire. You would dare
anything! But your majesty will understand that I
hate the man equally with the emperor. It is
he who holds me prisoner—who had my husband
murdered—who may have killed my daughter Co-
lette.”
While listening to her, William II seemed to be
laboring under a great stress of emotion.
“You are my prisoner, that is true. But is it my
fault? I feel convinced that you know something
of the terrible secret of the yellow document.
Could I set you at liberty under the circumstances?


228 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
As to Colette, Madame, she is alive. She is like
you, a prisoner, so is Monet, so must be all those
concerned in the secret.”
With a marvelous appearance of sincerity, William
II added:
“If you suffer, Madame, so do I. I am not free
to treat you as I would like. I have my duty as
emperor.”
And then, the Kaiser turned quickly as though
to hide his sobs and bowing, hurried away, calling
as he went:
“I am overcome, Madame—but you will see me
again. I want your forgiveness and I shall win
it.”
While Rauerdt did not recover his good humor
after his strange interview in the park, he had suc-
ceeded in pulling himself together and deciding upon
a course of action.
He was walking his horse in one of the main
thoroughfares of the Thiergarten, when suddenly he
started.
Among the acclamations of the crowd, four or
five horsemen were galloping toward him, and in
the midst of them rode the king.
Rauerdt hurried to meet them.
The emperor hailed him while yet some distance
away.
“A pleasant ride, my good friend.”
“Sire, I await your majesty with impatience 1”
“To find out if my visit was successful, I'll war-


230 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Rauerdt hesitated for an instant.
What ought he to reply?
Should he speak of the strange meeting with the
monster?
An ironical smile came to his lips.
“Sire, there is nothing new in the fact that I am
trying to serve you. I have done nothing else this
morning.”


V
THROUGH FEAR
PA. DE TERSY was a strange fellow. He
might be called a perfect example of the working
out of the laws of heredity.
Son of William II, the imperial thief, he
showed the low instincts of greed, hate, and
cowardice.
Did he really love William II as he pretended to
do?
Certainly not.
Upon learning the secret of his birth, he had
rapidly calculated the advantages it would bring
him.
He imagined that, in a sense, he would become the
equal of the Kaiser's legitimate children, who had
scandalized the entire world by the extravagance of
their conduct.
He looked forward to every variety of pleasure
and the highest honors.
Indeed, for a moment, he had hoped to be given
the command of one of the armies rushing to the
invasion of France.
Alas! It was not long before he was undeceived.
Upon this evening the bastard of William II was
in very bad humor. Luck seemed to be turning
against him.
231


232 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
The young man was pacing up and down in a
modest room—the best to be had in the small village
—muttering to himself.
“My father is charming but he is a great nuisance.
What the devil is he up to now?
“After all, I am his son!”
Paul de Tersy's anger was perfectly compre-
hensible. He had suddenly received orders to leave
Berlin and betake himself to an out-of-the-way
village, there to meet one of the head spies—Doctor
Karl. He was told to remain there until further or-
ders.
De Tersy had the good sense to obey. He had
taken the journey and met the German doctor and
now he awaited further events. He wondered if
his affair with Carlotta was responsible for his dis-
grace.
“What a life!” he exclaimed. “Nothing to do,
nothing to see Wait! and for what?”
As a matter of fact, he had greater reason for his
anxiety.
Had his birth been fully established?
And what would the Kaiser do if any doubt arose
in his mind as to de Tersy being really his son?
“He would simply get rid of me,” thought the
young man.
It was a habit of William II to get rid of those
who bothered him.
Had he not already condemned to death servants
who deserved a better fate?
“Krampft didn't last long,” he murmured with
pale face.


THROUGH FEAR 235
has no other purpose than to get this yellow docu-
ment into our hands.”
De Tersy paused in the reading:
“It's madness,” he cried. “And of what use could
I be to Krampft?”
He went on with the letter:
“Where is this yellow document? That is what
we must find out. Who is hiding it? I know of
only three persons under suspicion. Colette, Monet,
and the ex-Madame Bayen, who alas, is no longer
Mme. Brigitte Ravignon.
“To sum it up: Colette and Monet are now actu-
ally in my power. I will tell you later how this
came about. I will undertake to make them speak,
but I do not know what they have done with Brigitte
Ravignon. I fancy you know, or at least can find
out. I also think you will not refuse to help in the
undertaking. Whether it be Colette, Monet, or
Brigitte who has the document, we must join to-
gether to make them speak.
“Think it over. I will come to see you soon, and
I expect to find you ready to second all my ef-
forts.”
The letter was signed:
“Your very devoted, Krampft.”
De Tersy put the letter down.
He was clever enough to see the advantages of
this partnership.
He would not mind betraying his father, but
would he be able to find Brigitte Ravignon 2
Suddenly he raised his head.
The door opened and a man entered the room.


238 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
and all your father's ‘Herr Doctors' could never dis-
cover it. Give me the document and I will save
you.”
The monster rose and bowed.
De Tersy sprang up and lifted his revolver.
“Nothing can frighten me,” the monster added,
lifting a warning finger. “I am not afraid of
death, so you would be wise to let me go freely and
in peace. If harm should happen to me you won't
get your antidote. Think it over !”
In truth, the monster seemed to have marvelously
calculated the details of his fantastic enterprise.
Paul de Tersy allowed him to go without a struggle.
This man alone could save him and no torture would
force him to speak if he decided to remain silent.
The sole means of getting the antidote would be
to procure the yellow document.
What a strange and horrible visit !
What a terrible demand 1
The young man sighed:
“The yellow document! I have three days to
find it in.”
On the floor lay Krampft's letter.
Krampft also wished to get possession of the
document.
The maddest ideas went through de Tersy's mind.
Who has this document?
It must be, as Krampft said, in the hands of either
Monet, Colette, or Brigitte Ravignon.
And then he recalled what Krampft had writ-
ten.
Monet and Colette were prisoners of the spy, and


THROUGH FEAR 239
it was a great piece of luck that Krampft had made
him this proposition.
And now another doubt arose in his mind.
Suppose this man had lied? What proof had he
got that it was not a trap laid by the Kaiser himself
to prove his devotion? What was he to do?
He must, evidently, sound Mme. Bayen.
He must, equally, wait for Krampft.
Above all he must not risk angering the emperor.
After a long meditation, the bastard rose with de-
termination.
He pocketed his revolver, then, bareheaded, he
rushed out of the house and ran to the other end of
the village.
There, Doctor Karl, the doctor-spy had his quar-
ters and attended to the dangerously wounded com-
ing from the front.
This was the man de Tersy wanted to see.
When he stood before him, he spoke tremblingly:
“I beg of you to listen to me. I have a terrible
mission for you, but I cannot say what it is until you
have promised secrecy.” He hastened to add:
“It will be worth a fortune to you—help me and
you will be splendidly recompensed.”
Doctor Karl listened as though utterly bewildered:
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Have you, too, some poison?”
“Have I too? What do you mean?”
“I have need of a deadly poison, similar to those
used by savages to poison their weapons and which
kills at the slightest scratch.
“Can you get me such a one?”


240 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Then in a tone of anguish:
“But I implore you, swear to keep this a secret!
Nobody must ever know what I am going to tell
you.”
The doctor smiled, and in a voice of apparent
cordiality, answered:
“Don’t be anxious, I promise you to hold my
tongue—as for the poison, here it is.”
He searched in a medicine chest and brought out
a small bottle without a label.
“What use do you want to put this to?”
De Tersy did not answer.
Now that he held the bottle of poison in his hand
he seemed reassured.
“Will you answer me frankly?” he asked.
“I am always frank—you mustn't doubt my word.”
“Then I'll tell you this. You've heard about the
yellow document?”
“Yes,” replied the doctor after a brief hesitation.
“I know what you are talking of.”
“And I know where the yellow document can be
found !”
The doctor evidently knew the value and the im-
portance of the document.
He grew excited:
“You know where the yellow document is Then
what are you doing here? You must go and get it.
You must—”
“You are mistaken,” interrupted de Tersy coldly.
“My duty is to stay here and obey my father's
orders. But you can go. I can send you after it,
Listen to me, these are my orders—”


VI
BEATEN
WHILE so many formidable intrigues were be-
ing plotted among the infamous German spies,
all dealing with the yellow document, while Rauerdt,
Krampft, de Tersy, William II himself were fiercely
struggling to recover the terrible paper, what was
happening to the heroic fiancé of Colette, the un-
fortunate Louis Monet? Rauerdt had told the
truth to the Kaiser. He had saved the young lieu-
tenant from death by loss of blood, as he lay un-
conscious in the landau.
Thanks to the secret passages in the royal villa,
Rauerdt had been a witness to the meeting of Monet
and Colette. And thanks to his powers of detec-
tion, he had no difficulty in recognizing Monet under
his priest's disguise.
When the latter had regained consciousness he ex-
perienced a strange emotion.
“Where the devil am I?” he murmured.
The reply to this question was, alas ! simple and
tragic.
He was in a prison cell.
Then suddenly he became the prey to a mad
curiosity.
He remembered everything, that was sure, but
why was he able to remember?
24I


242 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
All the details were clear in his mind. He had
had Colette's ring on his finger, now it was gone.
Whoever found him had bound up his wound and
stopped the hemorrhage.
And then, in a flash, Louis Monet understood.
In losing blood he had also eliminated the worst
of the narcotic from his system.
For a number of days Monet was left to his sad
thoughts.
And then one evening his cell door opened and a
man appeared. Krampft. -
“How are you?” began the infamous German.
Monet looked at him with such an air of contempt
that the wretch exclaimed:
“Why are you looking at me like that? Come,
give me a welcome, for I bring you good news.”
“Nothing you can say would give me any
pleasure.”
“Not even that you are going to make a change
of residence?”
“Where are you going to take me?”
In spite of himself Monet had asked the question
and Krampft burst out laughing.
“Ah! I thought that would interest you. But
now you are too curious. I cannot tell you. It is
true that I bring you further news—and I hope you
are going to be sensible.”
“What do you mean?”
“You would be wise to tell me where is the yel-
low document.”
Monet shrugged his shoulders:
“That you will never know.”


BEATEN 243
Krampft burst out laughing.
“‘Never' is a big word. We shall see.”
He went on pitilessly: -
“Just think, I am charged by the emperor to make
you speak. Yes, that's the way it is. For the sake
of Germany, the yellow document must be found.
Therefore all means are good. And here you are,
both my prisoners. Colette will speak.”
“Colette | Is Colette alive?”
“Very much alive—and in my hands.”
The happiness that Monet felt on learning that
Colette had escaped the horrible death she had been
threatened with quickly gave place to despair.
Was not her present position worse than
death? Krampft must have guessed the thought
that passed through Monet's head, for he ap-
proached the officer:
“Thus it is,” he insisted, “either Colette or you
will speak. I give you my word on that.”
“We shall never speak.”
“That makes me laugh.”
“We prefer to die.”
“To die, perhaps. But before death there will
be torturel Oh, there is no hurry, you have still
some hours before you. I just dropped in to say
“howdy do.’ Your journey will begin tomorrow.
The torture will follow !”
Krampft grinned and left the cell with an ironical
“good day.”
The officer felt at the end of his strength.
That night he tossed sleeplessly, his brain filled
with horrible visions.


BEATEN 245
He was in the courtyard of this building which he
noticed had two tall towers.
Doubtless this was to be his prison.
A man came to meet him.
He held a large cap in his hand and smiled hypo-
critically:
“If Monsieur will follow me?”
Monet shrugged his shoulders.
“Have I the right to refuse?”
The man laughed:
“Ah! I see Monsieur likes to joke. Certainly
Monsieur cannot refuse, because I have been
charged by Herr Krampft to make you obey. But
that is no reason why we shouldn't get on well to-
gether. I am a jailer, but that doesn't prevent me
from having a soft heart. Monsieur will find in me
a friend.”
“Do your duty and hold your tongue,” growled
Monet.
He was in a hurry to be left alone.
They might put him in a dungeon, but at least he
would be away from that man.
The jailer took the rebuke in good part.
“Monsieur is nervous,” he said, “and that I can
understand. But Monsieur need not remain here
long, I think.”
Monet was on his guard. The man would find
some difficulty in gaining his confidence.
For the second time, the officer ordered:
“Do your duty and hold your tongue.”
While speaking, Monet had glanced at the
château. It was a sinister looking place.


246 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
The courtyard was narrow, shut in by the two
high towers, and paved with heavy cobblestones
where neither moss nor any form of green thing
grew.
Monet quickly sized it up.
“To escape from here is impossible.”
“I will take Monsieur to his apartments.”
The man had replaced his cap on his head and
this disclosed a large revolver which he had kept
hidden. -
Monet, seeing this, shrugged his shoulders, re-
signed.
In any case, the thought of attacking the man was
out of the question. He knew very well that
Krampft had taken every precaution.
“I am ready,” he replied.
His jailer led the way to a small door in one of
the towers.
“Monsieur has only to go up.”
Monet obeyed. But he could not repress a shud-
der at the sound of the door closing behind him.
Was he not entering what was to be his torture
chamber and his last dwelling on earth?
While he climbed the narrow and twisting stairs,
the jailer kept up an incessant chatter.
“Monsieur will be very comfortable. We have
given him a well ačrated room and the necessary
furniture.”
But Monet was not listening.
He suffered acutely from hunger and thirst and
it took all his remaining strength to climb the inter-
minable steps.


248 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Was it not his duty to struggle to the end in spite of
the odds?
“The first thing is to try and discover where the
spy has taken me,” he pondered.
He went to the window and peered through the
bars, but it was already getting late and the evening
fog was settling over the land.
The silence was complete, absolute, total.
“I do not even know if the other tower is on my
right or left. Perhaps there are more prisoners in
it l”
Then a sudden idea came to him.
Monet took down from the wall the small looking-
glass and held it at arm's length through the bars of
the window, though he scarcely expected to see in it
more than the reflection of the interminable wall of
the tower.
But after one glance he gave a loud cry of joy:
“Colette | It is Colette l’”
He had seen the charming face of his fiancée in
the glass.
She was leaning at a narrow window talking to
someone. Probably she occupied the corresponding
room in the other tower.
With beating heart and haggard eye the young
man maneuvered the glass so as to get a better view
and then suddenly a cry of horror escaped his lips.
He staggered back and the glass fell into the
depths below.
He burst into choking sobs.
What had he seen?


VII
BETWEEN TRAITORS
R twenty-four hours, de Tersy had found no
time to be bored. In fact, he looked back upon
his previous monotony with regret.
The wretched man could not close an eye, nor
escape from the haunting fear of the poison he was
supposed to have taken. He was constantly on the
alert to discover the first symptoms of his approach-
ing death. He felt a slight pain in breathing.
Were his lungs becoming congested? To forget his
agony he busied himself in an extraordinary way.
Upon the table he placed his revolver after ex-
amining the cartridges one by one.
When assured that it was in good working order
he then got out the small bottle of poison given him
by the doctor. He drew the cork and with the thick
brown liquid it contained he covered some long pins
which he then placed about the room on the fur-
niture.
The day passed without incident, then followed a
night of horrible nightmares, and finally the morning
of the third day dawned.
Karl had not arrived.
Krampft had given no sign of life.
Now, as eleven struck, de Tersy sprang up sud-
denly. Somebody was coming upstairs.
249


250 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
And the footsteps were not those of Wolff, the
orderly with the face of a spy.
Livid, with beating heart, de Tersy awaited the
approach of his visitor. A knock and the door
opened. It was the doctor.
A cry of relief escaped him.
“Well!”
“Well, I have been successful.”
After regaining his breath, Karl rubbed his hands,
smilingly triumphant.
De Tersy exclaimed feverishly:
“You have been successfull Have you the yel-
low document?”
“Yes. I have the yellow document.”
“Ah! My friend! My dear friend! It can't
be possible!”
“On the contrary, it is quite possible.”
De Tersy rushed to the doctor and wrung his
hands, stammering:
“Never can my father thank you enough ſ”
The bastard did not forget the necessity of lying
even at the moment he felt himself saved.
“Now I shall be able to hand over the yel-
low document to the monster,” was his real
thought.
“Karl, your fortune is madel I shall tell his
majesty—”
He stopped abruptly, seized by a fresh fear.
Would the doctor give him the yellow docu-
ment?
De Tersy ordered:
“Show me the document.”


252 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“To Krampft!”
“Your excellency may imagine how surprised I
was. And fresh surprises were in store for me. It
was not difficult to reach the prisoner. My rela-
tions with Krampft put me in possession of his pass-
words and his methods. I succeeded in winning
over the jailer without much difficulty. I will skip
the details and arrive at the morning when the cell
door opened and I found myself face to face with
the prisoner.”
“Who was it?”
“Colette,” answered the doctor calmly.
De Tersy remained dumb with amazement.
There could be no doubt, of it, Karl was speaking
the truth, for Krampft himself had written telling
de Tersy that Colette was a prisoner.
“And then? Go on!”
“Then, I had the happy inspiration to present
myself before Colette as an emissary of Monet. I
told her that she must absolutely give me the yellow
document to save Monet from being tortured.”
“And you succeeded in convincing her?”
“The proof is that you have the document.”
“Nothing else happened?”
“Yes. While I was talking to the prisoner I
heard a loud cry and a noise as though something
had fallen into the ravine. I don't know what it
was.”
The doctor's glance was now directed to the bot-
tle of poison on the table and which he naturally
recognized.


BETWEEN TRAITORS 253
He did not see the expression in Paul de Tersy's
eyes.
The Kaiser's bastard was furious. He was say-
ing to himself.
“This man is lying.”
He knew Colette well enough to feel sure that she
did not deliver up the yellow document thus
easily.
Karl must have taken it by force.
Possibly he had killed her.
“You have nothing further to tell me?” he asked.
“Nothing. Except that I am tired out and des-
perately sleepy.”
While speaking the doctor watched every move-
ment of de Tersy.
Was he afraid that the Kaiser's bastard would
use one of the formidable needles against him, for
which he himself had furnished the poison?
He would not have been surprised.
“By the way,” said de Tersy, “one more ques-
tion. What would be the effect of this poison?”
The doctor smiled.
“It would cause immediate paralysis and death
would come within the hour.”
De Tersy bowed amiably.
“Well, it will be very useful to me.”
Then he added:
“Doctor, sleep well. The yellow document will
be delivered and when you wake the emperor will
reward your services.”
Karl stepped backwards to the door.


254 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
He saw de Tersy put his hand in his pocket but
took no notice of this simple movement.
And yet it meant death.
The revolver, carefully prepared, did its terrible
work.
De Tersy, a wonderful shot, fired through his
coat and the body of the doctor fell shot through the
heart.
De Tersy went near.
“My ambassador was a fool. I'm not sorry.”
But as he bent over the body, he began to tremble.
It was his first crime and he was afraid.
“I was wrong!” he stammered.
Then he pulled himself together.
“No. I wasn't wrong. I had to kill him. By
showing his body to Krampft I can avoid bringing
his vengeance upon me. I shall say the doctor be-
trayed us, that he admitted having stolen the yel-
low document but I shall deny that he gave it to me.
I can say he attacked me and that I had to kill him.
Krampft will be grateful and may help me to dis-
pose of the monster.”
He burst into laughter.
“The monster!—I need not fear him now !”
And he added, aloud:
“I shall poison him by and by.”
De Tersy took hold of the body intending to hide
it under the bed.
At this moment the door opened and the monster
entered the room.
How had he been able a second time to slip into
the house past the watchful eyes of Wolff P


BETWEEN TRAITORS 255
In a manner extremely simple.
He had never left the house after his interview
with de Tersy. He had merely returned to his hid-
ing-place in the attic.
Had he heard de Tersy's threat against him?
Did he know of the terrible poison?
He said simply:
“Evidently I run a risk but what does that
matter? It is my duty!”
With assurance and in a calm voice he announced
himself.
“Good morning. You are not afraid of murder,
I see.”
De Tersy became livid; he stuttered:
“Ah! I was waiting for you. I was afraid.”
The monster took a seat.
“You were afraid? Why? I promised to come
and I am here. An honest man keeps his word.”
A hideous smile froze the blood in de Tersy's
veins.
“Have you the yellow document?”
“Have you the antidote?”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“You are suspicious?—And you are wrong.
Give me the document and I will save you.”
“Very well,” replied de Tersy. “An honest man
keeps his word. I believe in you. Here is the
document.”
The hands of the stranger trembled.
Who was this mysterious individual?
De Tersy thought he had found out. He must
be a messenger from the emperor.


256 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
The emperor wanted to test his son's fidelity.
“If this is so,” thought de Tersy, “my father will
take vengeance upon me, for in giving up this docu-
ment I am betraying him.”
And then he shrugged his shoulders. There
would be no occasion for vengeance. He would
give up the document and then he would poison this
messenger of William II.
The stranger held the document in his hands for
a long minute. His face expressed nothing. At
length he made up his mind.
“I ask your attention,” he said. “You are sure
this is the yellow document?”
“I am sure of it,” answered de Tersy.
The monster opened the envelope.
Alas! It was not the precious document but some
blank sheets of paper that he took out.
Colette had not betrayed her trust.


258 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
gladly have agreed to become the servant, the slave
of the man who had the power to save him.
“Get up,” commanded the monster. “Don’t you
remember that I told you—an honest man keeps his
word? Be satisfied—you are to live.”
And as de Tersy could scarcely credit the good
news, the monster continued:
“Oh, I know it's not your fault if I haven't got the
yellow document. I know you did your best to get
it. That is why I shall not kill you.”
De Tersy was about to break into thanks, but the
strange individual stopped him:
“Wait. I shall not kill you, but I shall tell you
all the contempt I have for you.”
“Then be pitiful. Hurry! This frightful poi-
son is already burning me. Save me! What must
I do? What drug—”
The monster laughed. He seemed to be greatly
amused over something.
“I assure you you are quite mistaken. Do you
really feel symptoms of poisoning?”
“Yes p.
“Are you in great pain?”
“At certain moments.”
“And yet, de Tersy, your sufferings are quite
imaginary. What a coward you must be to be
caught in such a childish trap! I never gave you
any poison. The story I told was merely to scare
you into obeying me.”
The monster continued to laugh while de Tersy,
white with anger, sprang forward.


A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 259
Could it be true that he had never taken the
poison?
“Scoundrell” he cried.
“Ah! You call me 'scoundrel' now ! And a mo-
ment ago you were at my feet! Certainly I have
tricked you, but in doing so I alone ran any risk.
I fight squarely, de Tersy, I am not a murderer like
you. Good-by.”
The stranger turned to leave the room.
De Tersy now felt certain that the man had come
from his father and that he would return and report
the whole story to the emperor.
This dissipated his last scruples. With a quick
movement he seized one of the poisoned needles and
threw himself upon his visitor.
“Fool!” he cried, as he plunged the needle into
the monster's shoulder.
And then with a quick bound, he sprang back and
drew his revolver, aiming it at his victim, now col-
lapsed in a chair.
“Well! You won't insult me again; I think!
The shoe is on the other foot! You have found
your master!”
The man did not answer. He appeared to be
unable to move.
De Tersy continued:
“Really, you are as simple as a child ! You come
in here freely, but how have you planned to go out?
What? You don't answer?”
A groan came from the lips of the monster:
“I am in great pain.”


262 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Naturally, he had not been surprised to hear that
the monster had visited de Tersy, but he had been
more than upset by the events which followed.
“Monet and Colette cannot know much,” he
thought, “or in any case they won't speak.
“So now the emperor must win the confidence of
Mme. Bayen who alone is able to give us any in-
formation. But to gain Brigitte Bayen it will be
necessary to set Monet and Colette at liberty. After
all, why not? If it were arranged properly.”
At this same time, another person was busy think-
ing of the consequences of the monster's visit to Paul
de Tersy. -
And that person was Krampft.
Krampft had joined the bastard as the latter was
leaving the ministry. He had listened to de Tersy's
recital of what had happened. -
And without doubt Krampft had genius. With-
out hesitation he guessed what Rauerdt must be
thinking.
He turned abruptly to de Tersy.
“If you want my opinion, I think you were wrong
to tell all this to Rauerdt. I'll wager the result will
be that I shall be ordered to release my two pris-
oners.”
De Tersy did not understand.
Krampft, however, neglected to give him any ex-
planation. With a shrug of his shoulders, he ex-
claimed:
“Well, it can't be helped. If they must be allowed
to escape, they shall escape in the way I choose.”


IX
THE PRICE OF BILOOD
WHAT had happened in the room where de
Tersy found it necessary to resort to crime
to extricate himself from what he considered a
dangerous situation?
Was the body of the monster really stolen?
Paul de Tersy had simply been completely taken
in. As soon as he had gone away the monster rose
to his feet.
“That was a lucky escape,” he murmured.
Then bending over the body of Karl, he added.
“As a matter of fact it was this spy who saved
me by giving the Kaiser's bastard a harmless liquor
instead of poison. His reason for doing so was
probably that he feared de Tersy would attempt to
kill him.”
The monster laughed at the thought.
And, in fact, he had guessed the exact truth.
When de Tersy had asked Karl to undertake a
secret mission and then to furnish him, with a deadly
poison, Karl had divined to what purpose the poison
would be put.
“A lucky escapel” repeated the monster. “And
a fortunate thing I overheard the doctor explain
the probable effects of the poison, otherwise I would
not have been able to deceive de Tersy.
263


THE PRICE OF BLOOD 265
How did the name of the spy enter into the con-
versation?
The man who urged the argument of a fortune
wore thick bandages over his face. His large hat
was pulled down over his forehead, and his coat
collar turned up so that nothing could be seen of his
features but his eyes, and these were hidden behind
dark glasses.
His companion would have been easier to recog-
111Ze.
If Monet had seen him, he would have identified
him as his jailer.
“Fifty thousand francs, cash down l And all for
a job you can do without risk or danger!”
“That's all very well, but if ever my master—”
“He will never know.”
“But I understand this young man is mixed up in
some espionage affair?”
“Exactly. And that guarantees you from all sus-
picion. It will be thought that other spies planned
his escape.”
Monet's jailer drank a glass of absinthe at one
gulp.
Was he hesitating?
Suddenly he shook his head.
“No, no, it can't be done. I should be caught and
killed.”
“By whom?”
“By Krampft, of course !”
A silence ensued. The two men watched each
other.


266 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“All right, so much the worse for you. We'll
say no more about it.”
The jailer took another drink.
“It wouldn't be so bad if I knew who you were.”
“My name would mean nothing to you.”
“If I could see your face.”
“It would scare you.”
“Who are you then?”
“A monster.”
The jailer became more troubled.
“Fifty thousand francs is too little.”
“What is your price?”
“A hundred thousand.”
“You want too much.”
“I should need it to get away.”
The other shrugged his shoulders, made a move
to pay the bill and get out.
The jailer put his hand on the other's arm.
“Look here, you're in too much of a hurry—let
me think—it's a big thing you are offering.”
“I will pay you fifty thousand francs.”
“Cash down?”
“Cash down.”
“In advance?”
“No. After the escape.”
“How 2”
“You will find the money at the end of the
rope.”
“How do I know you are not lying?”
“You must trust me as I trust you.”
“Has he been warned?”
“You will warn him.”


THE PRICE OF BLOOD 267
“How P”
“By hiding a small sealed case in his bread.”
“Has he the money on him?”
“No.”
“I don't know what to think.”
“You needn't think. You must accept or refuse.
Yes or no.”
“Are you in a hurry?”
“He must escape tomorrow.”
“Then he must be told tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Have you the case with you?”
“I have.”
“All right, give it to me. I accept.”
The monster could not repress a movement of
relief. He exclaimed:
“Then it's understood?”
“Perfectly. I'm to slip the little case into the
prisoner's bread this evening. Tomorrow night, I
give him a rope and he escapes by the window. At
the end of the rope I find fifty thousand francs.
Why not make it sixty?”
“No, fifty.”
“And you will put the money there yourself?”
“No. Monet will do that. What difference does
it make to you?”
“None.”
The man passed over a small metal case which
could easily be hidden in a piece of bread.
“Go along!” he ordered.
“All right, all right! I'm going,” and the jailer
went out, staggering.


268 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
No sooner was he left alone than the man dropped
his head in his hands, exhausted:
“God help me ! I shall have done the impossible !
Can I save him?”
Outside, it was a dark, obscure night in the
wooded, mountainous country.
The slopes of the neighboring hills were in deep
shadow. There were no stars in the sky and the
wind howled in the branches of the firs.
With heavy footsteps the jailer made his way
along the narrow streets of the small village; he then
cut across fields and soon gained a path which wound
around the base of a hill.
The man was thinking:
“Fifty thousand francs | That's a big sum! But
what I have to do is terrible! It will be easy enough
to give the man a rope but if ever my master should
know. . . .”
The jailer stopped short.
Now in the darkness suddenly appeared a figure
with outstretched arm.
“Stop p'
Terrified by the sound of the voice, the jailer
stammered:
“Krampft! Herr Krampft!”
“Answer me, frankly! Where have you been?”
“In Saales.”
“What were you doing in Saales?”
“Nothing! Nothing!”
“You were drinking.”
“That isn't forbidden, Herr Krampft.”
“It is forbidden to keep me waiting.”


THE PRICE OF BLOOD 269
The jailer crossed himself. He thought his last
hour had come.
Krampft took him by the arm.
“Now, listen to me. Can I trust you?”
“Surely.”
“Are you anything but a brute? Will you help
me?”
“I will do anything you want, Herr Krampft.”
“Anything? Will you commit a crime?”
“A crime? Why yes, of course. But why?”
Krampft laughed.
“Why? You will soon know. Now, pay atten-
tion to what I say; if you succeed there will be fifty
thousand francs for you.”
“Fifty thousand francs l’”
The jailer repeated the words in utter bewilder-
ment. So Krampft also offered him that sum !
“Speak! Speak!”
“This is what you have to do and you know that
your life depends upon your obedience. Tomorrow
you must kill the prisoner in the tower.”
The jailer drew back.
“Are you afraid?”
“No.”
It was not fear but amazement that staggered
him.
A few moments ago he had been offered fifty
thousand francs to let Monet escape, now he was
offered the same sum to kill him.
“You want me to kill this young man?”
“Yes. I order you to do so. He is in my way.
But I wish his death to appear an accident. This


27o THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
is what you must do: You will wait until he is
asleep then throw yourself upon him. He is weak,
sick. You are strong. It won't be difficult. You
will then bind him, saw one of the bars of the window
and push the body into the ravine below. A fall
of two hundred feet—he won't escape from that!”
“And you will give me fifty thousand francs?”
“As soon as the work is done.”
“You may count on me,” said the jailer.


272 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
In breaking the bread supplied with his dinner he
gave a cry of amazement.
In it was hidden a small metal case.
To open it and take out the paper it contained
was the work of a moment.
Somebody had been able to send him a message
unknown to Krampft.
What message?
The paper he held in his hand was a check for
fifty thousand francs with a German signature.
A smaller piece of silk paper next appeared.
The letters which were printed in handwriting
read:
“The jailer is bought. He will furnish a rope,
saw your bars, climb down. You will be met. Fas-
ten the check to the end of the rope.”
Monet was at first so astounded that he did not
take in the significance of the words.
Was it possible that somebody had planned his
escape?
And then, the first moment of joy was quickly
followed by a reaction. After all, he did not want
to live. His whole being revolted against the
thought of life without his love and without his mis-
sion. At this moment the key grated in the lock
of his cell door. Instinctively Monet slipped the
check and the paper into his pocket. The door
opened and the jailer appeared. The man's face
was deathly pale and he avoided meeting the lieu-
tenant's eyes. -
“Good day.”
Monet did not reply and the jailer repeated:


FOR FRANCE FOR COLETTEl 273
“Good day.”
“What do you want?” \
“Nothing, nothing.”
What was going on in the obtuse brain of
Krampft's servant?
Had he made up his mind to earn the fifty thou-
sand francs for the easy crime, or the fifty thousand
francs for the escape?
He had delivered the message. Did that mean
that he had decided in favor of escape?
“What do you want?”
“The weather is bad.”
And as though speaking with difficulty:
“It's—it's the right sort of weather for your
escape.”
He tried to laugh, but the laugh sounded false.
“What's that?” said Monet, angrily.
The jailer's face took on a look of amazement.
The very word escape seemed to anger the prisoner.
He continued:
“Such a chance may not happen again. You'll
have to saw one of the bars, and with a rope—”
Monet had drawn back and stood against the wall.
With folded arms and lowered head, he reflected.
Should he live?
Suddenly he decided to face death bravely. He
took a step towards the man and ordered:
“Get out !”
One glance at Monet's face and the cowardly
German quickly disappeared. It might be said that
he fled. -
“What does it mean?” he cried. “A man who


274 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
expects to be killed is told he is free and he refuses
to go!”
The wretch could not guess the thoughts in
Monet's mind.
Fifty thousand francs to save him—and fifty
thousand francs to kill him! Well, he would have
it!
The jailer rushed down stairs and out of the door.
The storm had redoubled in violence.
The pine trees in the neighboring woods bent un-
der the gusts of a furious wind.
After having gone about a mile, he reached the
shelter of a rock.
There a man was waiting for him. It was the
monster.
“Well?”
“Well, I gave him the little case.”
“What did he say?”
“I went in to see him.”
“What then?”
“I thought he would kill me!”
“You say he wanted to kill you?”
“Yes. He drove me out of the room.”
“Didn't you explain that his escape was planned?”
“Yes.”
“And he wasn't willing?”
“He wasn't willing.”
In spite of the storm, the monster quitted his
shelter.
“I wish him to be saved l’”
“I have done your bidding,” replied the jailer.
“I have earned my fifty thousand francs.”


FOR FRANCE FOR COLETTE! 275
“You shall have them when he is free.”
“But I can't drive him out !”
“Listen! You must obey me. You will return to
him.”
“No, no, I won't! I'm afraid.”
The monster repeated:
“Fifty thousand francs.”
The jailer was silent.
“Can you get me into his cell?”
“No, that is impossible.” I am not the only man
on guard. There is a patrol. If I could have taken
you to him, I could have let him out of the
door.”
The tone of the man was so decided that the
monster didn't insist further.
Besides, the young man had thought it over by
this time. Probably he regretted having thrown
away the chance he had been offered.
Let the jailer but renew the offer and it would
be accepted.
But Monet had decided quite differently.
After all, he had acted bravely. To live would
have been a piece of cowardice.
The captain of a sinking vessel goes down with
it. The commander of a fort does not survive its
capture by the enemy.
Monet approached the windows. He pressed his
burning forehead against the iron bars.
How the wind howled!
“I would like to die tonight,” he thought.
Suddenly he started.
He must have been dreaming! His senses had


276 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
deceived him He could not have heard aright!
Monet listened with all his soul.
And again, the echo of a distant voice came to
him through the storm.
“For Francel For Colette l’”
Who could have shouted these words?
The moment before he was ready to die. Now
he wanted to live.
Was it not cowardice to seek forgetfulness and
peace in death?
The war was beginning. Men were needed to
protect country, women and children'
The mysterious person who had cried, “For
Francel For Colettel” had discovered the only
words able to touch Monet and drag him back to
life.
And then a fear assailed him.
Just now he had refused the jailer's offer.
He had noted the man's scared face. Would the
man dare to return?
“I was a fool!” he cried.
Krampft himself might appear at any time, might
stand him up against a wall and shoot him.
And the jailer had said the night was favorable.
The storm and the darkness would prevent him
being seen.
Monet stood listening. After what seemed an
interminable time the door of his cell opened sud-
denly and the jailer reappeared.
“Good evening.”
This time the young man ran to meet him.
“Good evening, good evening! Come in.”


XI
MONET's VENGEANCE
WHEE the abominable German gloated over
his gains, Monet set himself to work to saw
through one of the bars of his window.
He realized that the least delay might have fatal
consequences. He must be far away before the next
round of the patrol.
Besides, Krampft himself might appear unexpect-
edly. Monet would have been still more uneasy had
he known the struggle taking place in the jailer's
mind, that a second fifty thousand francs had been
offered for his death.
The young man worked with desperate energy,
but the bars were strong. It seemed to him as
though the file made no impression on the iron.
At length, after ceaseless effort, he threw down
the file and seized the bar with both hands. With
a violent jerk he succeeded in breaking the iron.
Monet leaned out of the window, drawing in deep
breaths of fresh air.
Nothing was visible but the sombre wall of the
tower. Whether he would land in the courtyard or
beyond in the moat he could not determine.
Once more he examined the rope and found it
strong. Then fastening one end of it to a bar, he
began lowering himself into the void below.
279


282 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
He glanced upward and what he saw appalled
him.
The black wall appeared to reach the sky.
“I shall never succeed,” he said to himself, “but
I shall die in doing my duty.”
Each foot he gained caused him intolerable pain.
It was a fantastic attempt.
And then rage gave him endurance. He would
be revenged on the jailer. If he could reach his
cell he would spring at his throat and strangle him.
Slowly, patiently, he went up inch by inch. At
length he realized that he had accomplished the feat.
He was able to seize one of the window bars, to get
his knee upon the ledge, finally to drop into the cell,
more dead than alive. How long he lay in a semi-
conscious condition he never knew.
He was recalled to his senses by the sound of
footsteps on the stairs.
“The jailer!” he murmured, springing to his feet.
He picked up the file which, in the hands of an
exasperated man, became a deadly implement.
Crouching by the wall, he made ready to attack.
At the moment when the lieutenant hung sus-
pended at the end of the rope and found it was too
short, the infamous jailer was drinking glass after
glass of absinthe.
His face expressed a drunken delight.
“That was a good idea of mine,” he thought.
“And luck was on my side, too. Fifty thousand
francs to save him—so I give him the rope. Fifty
thousand francs to kill him—and the rope is too


284 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“Now, answer me! Why hasn't he escaped yet?”
“But, he must have escaped! He certainly went
down the rope.”
Then a bright idea struck him.
“If you want a proof, come up with me. I will
pull in the rope and if he has kept his word the
money will be tied to the end of it!”
“Go aheadl” answered the monster.
What new villainy had entered the head of the
German?
While climbing the stairs, the jailer thought:
“I’ll go into the room with him—I'll get the fifty
thousand francs—and then—I’ll rush out and lock
him in. What wouldn't Herr Krampft pay to get
this man!
“It's a climb, isn't it?” he exclaimed. “You'd
think you were mounting to the skies. You're all
out of breath! Courage, we're nearly there.”
The two men had reached the top of the tower.
It was at this moment that Monet became aware
of the footsteps and, file in hand, prepared to wreak
his vengeance.
With a gesture, the jailer opened the door and in-
vited his guest to go in.


XII
I'M NOBODY
ONET was in no condition to reason. Instinct
alone spoke to him. The instinct of revenge,
born of the agony he had gone through. Upon
seeing the door open, he crouched and sprang.
A man entered the room.
He felt so sure that it was his would-be assassin
who confronted him, that without hesitation and
without pity he struck with all his strength.
The man received the blow full in his chest and
with a loud cry he fell.
The monster lay on the ground as though dead.
Behind him, unaware of what had happened, the
jailer entered and saw the body.
“Good God!” he cried.
And then he saw Monet, menacing, ferocious.
He would have retreated but the wind had partially
closed the door of the cell. He stuttered:
“I came—I—I thought—”
And then he stopped, terrified.
“Wretch! Scoundrell” shouted the lieutenant,
driving the file with one blow to the jailer's heart.
The man fell without a cry.
And then, the anger which had sustained Monet
and enabled him to strike the two blows, left him ex-
hausted, panting, incapable of movement.
285


288 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
At the sound of this name the monster shuddered.
However, he reached the door in safety and was
soon out in the night with his burden.
During a half hour he struggled through the
woods. He was utterly exhausted by the time he
reached a cave concealed by thick undergrowth.
After placing Monet upon a bed of dried leaves
he struck a match and lit a lantern.
A gun rested against the stone wall. Further
away, a box without a lid disclosed a supply of boxes
of preserves and a kettle half full of water.
The monster searched among the provisions and
with a sigh of relief picked up a small bottle which
he quickly uncorked and held beneath Monet's
nostrils.
“He has fainted from exhaustion,” he exclaimed,
“but he has no mortal wound. I shall be able to
save him.”
And suddenly he added:
“Yes, I shall be able to save him—but Colette P
What about her?”
The lieutenant at this moment opened his eyes:
“Where am I?”
“With a friend,” replied the monster. “Don’t
stir–rest, you are safe.”
But instead of obeying this good advice, Monet
sat up.
“With a friend! I have no friends ! Who are
you?”
“Somebody,” answered the monster.
Then raising his lantern.


I’M NOBODY 289
“You will not recognize me.”
Monet could hardly restrain a cry of horror.
“You cannot recognize me.”
“You are in the service of Krampft?”
“I hate Krampft.”
“Are you the accomplice of his jailer?”
“I paid the man to let you escape.”
“To let me escapel The rope was too shortl
You wanted to kill me!”
And again Monet asked.
“Who are you?”
“The person who cried: For France and for
Colette.”
At the name of his fiancée Monet could not help
a groan of pain.
“Colette!—my poor Colette!”
“I will save her.”
“You lie I’’
“I will save her as I have saved you.”
“You have not saved me.”
“Yes. You are free.”
“Freel”
Monet repeated the word. He could not believe
Free! He would soon see.
He rose, expecting the monster to attack him.
“You are free,” repeated the monster. “I will
give you a proof. Take this weapon.”
He handed Monet a revolver.
“I’m not dreaming!”
“No,” replied the monster gently, “but you have


290 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
a bad fever. Calm yourself; rest. You are free,
but you are on German territory. France is far
away. And you must be able to fight again. Sleep,
I beg of you—for France—for Colette!”
The soothing tones of the monster had their ef-
fect.
“Colette—Colette is still a prisoner.”
The stranger must doubtless have been under the
stress of a great emotion, for his voice changed, be-
came sharp and clear:
“Lieutenant Monet, I will save your fiancée, I
give you my word of honor—my word as an off—”
The monster did not finish.
At the sound of this voice Monet started:
“I’m going mad!” he shouted. “You are—
what is your name?”
“Hush. I am nobody! An unknown. I for-
bid you to recognize me.”
And he added:
“Lieutenant Monet, I order you to sleep! You
must regain your strength and couragel Goodbye.
Wait for me!”
Before Monet could speak the monster had dis-
appeared.
Outside, the storm continued.
Quite indifferent to the elements, the monster
walked rapidly with bent head, as though the
events of the night had had no effect upon his
strength.
From time to time, he muttered:
“I will save her! Yes. I must! It is my duty!


294 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
Colette wondered if she could be dreaming.
Behind the rough and brutal jailer she saw a
young, dark-eyed woman with pale face and red
marks left by thongs on her wrists. She had evi-
dently been recently bound.
Who was this woman?
When the jailer's footsteps had passed out of
hearing, Colette went towards her with a spon-
taneous movement of sympathy.
“Who are you? Are you a prisoner as I am?
An enemy of Krampft's? Do you know why you
are here and what they will do with you?”
The strange woman looked at Colette, but did not
anSWer.
In fact, her silence became alarming and Colette
wondered if she were not in the presence of a mad-
WOrnan.
“I beg you to tell me who you are l’”
In a strange voice, the woman answered:
“But who are you? I seem to know you. Still,
it can't be possible !”
“You recognize me?” exclaimed Colette.
“Yes. I am sure now. Your name is Colette!
You were Lieutenant Monet's fiancéel"
The young girl was astounded.
“Yes! I am Lieutenant Monet's fiancéel And
who are you?”
The woman's face grew bitter. She made a
movement towards Colette.
“Who am I? You want to know ! Well, I will
tell you. I am the woman you ought to hatel”
“I don't understand.”
_


LOVE'S TREACHERY 295
“Must I explain further?”
“I beg you to do so.”
“Is the lieutenant's fiancée so stupid she cannot
guess? My name would mean nothing to you, un-
less you have already heard of your fiancée's mis-
tress.”
The strange creature threw back her head and
burst into a sinister laugh.
“You didn't expect to hear that, stupid child!
And still it's the truth. For a long time I have
suffered from Monet's attentions to you. I love
him! And he pretended to love you! I am his
mistress and he told you he hoped to marry you!
Oh, you have good cause to hate me! That is my
revenge! Do you understand?”
Colette listened, white as death. The woman
Went On :
“I am prettier than you. He would have been
mad to prefer you to me! But I'll tell you the truth.
You passed for the daughter of Krampft—Ravig-
non. Monet has been mixed up in espionage for a
long time. He had to have a reason for going to
the mayor's house. Well, you were made that rea-
son 1 And that's all you were !”
Colette, at first overwhelmed by this onslaught,
now stiffened up.
“I don't believe you!” she cried.
A laugh greeted her words.
“You are lying!
“No, I don't believe you. Monet is not capable
of such infamy. Monet really loves me. He was
my fiancé. I do not know if he knows you, but I


296 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
do know he would hate you if he could hear what
you have dared to say!”
Again the woman laughed.
“You don't believe me? Oh, I know what you
are going through! One never believes that one is
betrayed—that the man one loves can repeat the
same words of endearment to another woman. It
is a fact, however, and I shall oblige you to believe
it!”
“Never!”
“Then why am I here if I haven't fallen into
Krampft's hands because I was Monet's mistress?
Why should I want to see you suffer?”
“Leave me alone!” cried Colette, staggering back.
“So you believe me, eh? Besides, I have a proof
to offer! Perhaps you know this ring?”
The woman took a ring from her finger and held
it up.
Colette bowed her head.
“You thought yourself condemned to death—you
were to be walled-up alive—you gave this ring to
Monet when he came to see you, disguised as a
priest, to make sure that you would not betray his
patriotic secrets. Well, this same ring he gave to
me. Do you still doubt me?”
Alas! No! She no longer doubted.
Oh! the horror of this last and greatest treacheryl
Colette laughed bitterly:
“Very well. I believe you! Monet prefers you
and you are worthy of his love! The great love of
a faithful heart!”
Monet's mistress seemed to be weeping.


LOVE’S TREACHERY 299
can become an actress if I choose! Wasn't she
taken in 2 She believed every word I said! And
her jealousy opened her lips | Ah! Rauerdt is
clever.”
La Carlotta laughed again.
“It's a pity he scares me, I could almost love
him!”
La Carlotta had the soul and heart of a prosti-
tute; ready to love the man who terrorized her.


302 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
at the pipe. After five minutes' work he ascertained
that it was really a gas pipe. In a few moments
more the cellar began to fill with gas and the air
became difficult to breathe.
It was time to set a light to it.
La Flemme searched in his pockets. And then
he grew pale, overcome by the discovery he had
made.
The unfortunate man suddenly remembered that
his matches had been taken away from him.
“No matches 1” he muttered, in an agonizing voice.
And already he felt suffocated. Already a buzz-
ing in his ears and a fearful headache warned him
of approaching asphyxiation.
“This time the game is up !” he thought. “I am
lost!”
But suddenly he recalled the lieutenant's advice
never to give in, to struggle to the end.
“If I had flint and steel ! The blade of my knife
might answer, but where to find the flint?”
In the meantime his breathing became more diffi-
cult; he swayed and put a hand to the wall to steady
himself. At the touch he give a cry of triumph.
“Saved Saved l’’
What had he discovered?
La Flemme found that the wall was partly made
of pebble-stone.
Against this he struck the knife. A shower of
sparks and a formidable explosion followed. The
house had blown up.
Stones and dust and flames settled over the ruins.
Had La Flemme perished in the catastrophef


YOU 305
What were the exact relations between this wretch
and the Kaiser?
He was afraid that the emperor had taken him
into his confidence.
If that were so, it would be necessary to go care-
fully. To avoid attacking him until he was again
compromised and his ultimate disgrace assured.
“I think I see an excellent chance,” he exclaimed.
“I will begin by bringing about a meeting between
Carlotta and Krampft.”
Krampft had asked to see him this morning.
“Why not let him meet Carlotta in the ministry?
He will be furious to find her there. There will be
a fight between them, each one will betray the other
and I shall profit by the misunderstanding.”
He turned, smiling, to Carlotta.
“I thank you for what you have done and I repeat,
you shall be well rewarded. I am going at once to
Cirey to get the yellow document. By the way, I
shall be obliged to keep you prisoner until my return,
Oh, do not be alarmed, it will not be for long, a
special train will take me there and bring me back.”
Rauerdt bowed, gave some orders, and went away.
At five in the evening Paul de Tersy's mistress, who
had been taken to a small salon and given some
illustrated papers to read, gave a cry of alarm.
The door opened and an agent announced:
“Kindly step in here. The chief will not be back
until later in the evening.”
The individual who entered the room had occa-
sioned Carlotta's cry.


YOU 309
“The matter is that your mistress has deceived you
and she is going to die.”
“What, Carlotta?”
“She is a wretch.”
“You must be dreaming!”
“I tell you I caught her in the act. She was at
Rauerdt's house.”
The bastard became livid.
Of all men, he was most afraid of Rauerdt.
“Good God! What was she doing there?”
“I don't know.”
“You must find out.”
Krampft smiled.
He walked up and down the room; then stopped
and examined the chimney.
“Oh, you will know!”
“She will refuse to tell us.”
“We shall make her speak.”
“How P”
“By a method that is very old.”
Krampft had by this time taken off the screen
disclosing a coal fire already laid and only waiting
to be touched off with a match.
“What are you doing?” questioned the bastard.
“Surely you are not cold in midsummer?”
Krampft repeated:
“I swear to you that Carlotta will speak.”
And he lit the fire.
For several moments de Tersy asked himself if
he was not the plaything of a horrible nightmare.
What did Krampft mean?
Why did he light the fire?


312 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
“The yellow document is lost to us—and that
means we are beaten unless we can still struggle
against Rauerdt.”
Krampft paused as though to weigh his words:
“I am aware that Colette is to be taken to Brigitte
Ravignon. Probably the emperor wants to gain the
good will of my ex-wife, of the woman who is really
Mme. Bayen. Now William II does not do things
without a purpose. He knows that Brigitte knows
the contents of the yellow document. Well, we must
get Mme. Bayen into our hands !”
“But Mme. Bayen wouldn't tell us what she
knows.”
“What does that matter?” replied Krampft.
“She won't speak.”
“She won't speak because we shall kill her. You
see, it matters little whether she tells us or not—the
essential is that we can swear she has spoken. One
doesn't need to know a secret if one has the appear-
ance of knowing it. We shall be the masters of
William II if we can make him think we know the
contents of the yellow envelope.”
Surely Krampft must have lost his wits to speak
this way before Carlotta!


XVI
FOR THE LOVE OF MONET
66 ALF-PAST ELEVEN 1 Time to be seri-
ous !”
Undoubtedly Krampft was joking, for the three
diners seated at the table had taken their meal in
a most anxious and painful frame of mind.
Krampft brought the conversation to a sharp
close:
“We have work before us tonight.”
The Kaiser's bastard and his mistress were quite
aware that they could not hope to argue with
Krampft and that it would be best for them to blindly
obey him.
Krampft rose:
“You understand me, my friends? You know
what we have to do?”
But seeing the look of bewilderment on their faces,
he added:
“It's perfectly simple. A reception will be held
tonight at the Potsdam palace in honor of the taking
of Liège and the capture of General Léman. We
are to take advantage of this occasion to abduct
Brigitte Bayen. Brigitte has an apartment in the
palace where she is living as a semi-prisoner.
Every night at midnight she takes a long walk in the
park, where it will be a simple matter to seize her.”
3I3


FOR THE LOVE OF MONET 3.15
will have something more urgent to do. I am quite
sure you will not betray us this time.”
Krampft leaned towards her:
“You will obey us this time because I shall first
make you write a letter to Rauerdt in which you will
state clearly that you are responsible for the abduc-
tion of Mme. Bayen. Rauerdt will never forgive
that. Consequently, when you have quarreled with
him you will have every reason to remain faithful to
us.”
Carlotta did not reply.
She had an inner vision of the fantastic and tragic
struggle which was taking place between these two
men, both scoundrels: Krampft and Rauerdt.
“I'm tired out,” she sighed. “I should be able
to do nothing tonight.”
“Very well, we will give you a stimulant. De
Tersy, pass me that box of white powder.”
The young woman shuddered:
“Poison, I'm sure it's poison!”
Krampft shrugged his shoulders.
“Then I shall poison myself.”
He took a pinch of the powder and swallowed
it.
“Now are you satisfied? Unfortunately, the ef-
fect of this stimulant rapidly wears off, so I shall
prepare a dose of it for you to be taken at the
moment you enter the palace grounds.”
Then turning to de Tersy:
“Just give me those capsules. Carlotta must be
well doped, as you can see!”


FOR THE LOVE OF MONET 3.19
“Madame. Your daughter Colette will be here
in a minute or two. Either you will bid her an
eternal good-by and she will be executed tonight as
guilty of lèse majesté, or you will confess the hiding
place of the yellow document.”
Without giving Mme. Bayen time to reply Von
Tirpitz moved away, saying:
“Think it over, Madame. Here is your daugh-
ter.”
Turning her head, the heroic and unhappy woman
saw Colette.
The young girl flung herself into Mme. Bayen's
arms.
“Mother—my dear mother!”
“Colette—my darling Colette!”
Without further words Mme. Bayen drew Colette
into the depth of the park.
She knew very well that the imperial garden was
surrounded by high walls and the thought of escape
never entered her mind, but she wished to be alone
with her daughter.
The two women hurried down a path, almost run-
ning.
And then, suddenly they stopped short. Some-
thing moved in the shadows and a figure appeared
before them.
They were frightened, terribly frightened.
In the silence of the night which carried to them
the distant refrain of a waltz, two cries rang out.
Five minutes earlier the sentry on duty at a small
door, seldom used, was startled by the arrival of a


320 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
young officer who hurriedly gave the password,
“Kultur and Civilization,” and then passed through
the door without a glance at the soldier who had
come to attention and saluted.
“Another officer attached to the Secret Service,”
he thought. “No one else enters this way.”
But the sentry was mistaken.
The officer was visibly unacquainted with the im-
perial park.
Scarcely had he found himself well inside when
his attitude changed. He seemed very much afraid,
and took the greatest precautions to keep close to
the shadows.
Where was he going? What did he meditate?
Who was he?
Two cries had rung out.
Oh! no doubt of it Brigitte and Colette were
nearly dead of fear.
And now the officer rushed up to them.
“Quick! Quick!” he begged, “follow me!”
He then threw back his cloak and seized Brigitte
by the arm.
“Come quickly. Don't waste an instant!”
But Brigitte resisted. -
“You don't understand. I have come to help
you both to escape. I am doing this—for love of
Monet!”
For love of Monet!
Colette now seemed to understand the unexpected
appearance of the mysterious saviour.
“A woman l You?” she cried.


XVII
THE TRAP
WHAT had happened to the monster after the
tragic moment when he had entered
Krampft's château for the second time?
With a beating heart he had listened to the con-
versation between Carlotta and the unhappy young
girl.
Doubtless the monster knew the two women and
was even aware of the mysterious importance of the
yellow document.
White with rage and with clenched fists he mut-
tered:
“Liesl Lies! Always lies! The very spirit of
Germany ſ”
Not for one moment had the monster been taken
in by the game played by Carlotta.
And Colette had suffered so greatly by Carlot-
ta's words that she had been convinced of their
truth.
“This woman has been sent here by Rauerdt, I
would swear to it!”
Then he smiled grimly:
“Very well, it is between us two, Rauerdt l”
The struggle was to be fierce, a fight to a finish l
No doubt Carlotta would hurry back to Berlin.
She would notify Rauerdt of the hiding place of the
322


THE TRAP 323
yellow document! Rauerdt would consider the vic-
tory won.
But he would find himself mistaken!
With an exclamation of anger and joy, the mon-
Ster SWOre:
“When Rauerdt reaches the hiding place of the
yellow document, it will no longer be there!”
And then the mysterious individual began hurried
preparations.
Danger did not exist for him. For a long time
he had held his life cheaply, had resigned himself
to any sacrifice in the cause of duty.
“Whatever happens,” he thought, “I must get
hold of the yellow document without a moment's
loss of time. That must be done even before I see
Colette or Brigitte.”
Contemptuous of the danger of leaving his hid-
ing place, the monster opened the door and listened.
The tower was absolutely silent.
“Luck is on my side,” he thought. “If I don't
meet the jailer I shall be able to slip out.”
And indeed it seemed as though Chance would
favor this enigmatic individual.
He left the tower without hindrance. Further-
more, he uttered a cry of joy:
“Ah! Carlotta's motor l’”
Not far away a superb automobile was stationed
by the side of the road. The monster drew near
it.
“Carlotta will take longer than she thinks to
reach Berlin.”
With a smart blow the monster punctured the


324 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
gasoline tank and the gasoline began to leak slowly,
drop by drop.
“That won't be enough,” he murmured. “They
can get more gasoline. I must put it out of busi-
sness!”
He then picked up a handful of sand and mixed it
with the lubricating oil.
As he was about to move away he gave a sudden
cry and threw himself on his face in a ditch. He
was just in time, as at that moment the chauffeur
appeared, hands in his pockets, and smoking a
cigar.
“This man may belong to the Secret Service, I
mustn't let him see me,” he exclaimed.
And now luck seemed to be turning against the
monster. He had done everything possible to de-
lay the arrival of Carlotta in Berlin so that he might
have time to get the yellow document himself.
And here he was, obliged to remain hidden while
the precious time slipped by.
As evening drew on the monster at length saw
Carlotta appear accompanied by the jailer, who
stood hat in hand.
Carlotta appeared to be giving orders.
“Tell your prisoner to get ready. You are to
take her to Berlin; tell her she is to meet her
mother.”
Twenty minutes later the monster reached the cave
where he had left Louis Monet.
As he entered, the young officer sprang towards
him. He was still weak from fever but his voice
was eager.


THE TRAP 325
“Ah! Where have you been? Why mustn't I
recognize you?”
“Because I am no longer myself,” replied the
monster, simply. “From the moment war was de-
clared, Lieutenant, I knew that my duty was to dis-
appear. I have disappeared. That is all.”
“But why? Why?”
“I killed myself because otherwise I would have
been killed.”
“Ah! Colonell”
What was Colette's fiancé thinking of? Why
did he call this man colonel?
“Lieutenant, since you have recognized me there
is no longer any reason for denying my real identity.
I am indeed Colonel Bayen l My story is a simple
one. I will tell it to you. -
“When I gave you the yellow document I knew
war to be inevitable, and I also knew that immedi-
ately mobilization started I had to disappear. Lieu-
tenant, I pretended to kill myself. I left my clothes.
on the river bank to give the idea of murder. And
then—I vitrioled myself.”
“You did that, Colonel?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“But why?”
“Because I had to go to Germany and to reach
there I had first to disappear, and then reappear,
with a new face, a face which nobody in the world
could recognize. Not even a German spy! Colo-
nel Bayen is thought to be dead and the monster.
is unrecognizable. I betrayed myself to you by for-
getting to disguise my voice.”


332 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT
After dismissing the taxi, he stood outside the wall
of the park.
“Brigitte and Colette are there,” he murmured.
“Brigitte knows the secret of the yellow document—
and Monet loves Colette. I must get to them at any
cost.”
The officer put his hand in his pocket. He made
sure that his Browning was ready for use.
Would he have recourse to violence?
What could he do alone against the guard of the
imperial palace? -
Colonel Bayen had quitted the road and now was
walking on a strip of grass which finally led him to
the extremity of the park.
Suddenly he sprang behind a tree.
He had caught sight of a powerful automobile
standing with lights extinguished.
After a moment, he dropped to the ground and
crawled forward noiselessly.
“Krampft,” he murmured. “That is Krampft's
car. What is it doing here?”
It did not take him long to guess the truth.
Krampft, too, was attempting to carry off Brigitte
Bayen.
What was to be done?
The heroic officer had one of those ideas which
seemed to be mere madness.
He crept up to the car and crawled under it be-
tween the wheels.
After waiting ten minutes the park door opened
and a figure appeared.
3. a \ _-


WENGEANCE 333
Immediately two men sprang out of the car.
“Well?” they questioned.
“It's all right. Let's get away.”
Colonel Bayen could hardly repress a cry. He
recognized the two men. They were Krampft and
de Tersy.
He also recognized the voice of the third person.
It was the voice of the woman who had called on
Colette in the tower.
But what costume was she wearing?
“Colette is here?” asked Krampft.
“Yes.”
“And Brigitte Bayen also?”
“Yes. They are waiting inside. I said I was
coming out to see if the coast was clear. You have
only to seize them.”
Colonel Bayen realized that his guess was correct.
Everything had been prepared for an abduction.
“I arrived just in time,” he said to himself.
Suddenly a woman's figure appeared in the door-
way. Scarcely had she taken a few steps outside
when de Tersy sprang upon her, threw her down
and gagged her. -
And then, another form issued from the park,
apparently carrying a burden in her arms.
“Help me, Krampft,” whispered Carlotta. “Bri-
gitte Bayen is half dead.”
“Half dead P”
Carlotta placed the body on the grass and the
three figures bent over her.
“I don't know what's the matter with her,” ex-


VENGEANCE 335
But the young girl had fainted.
“Ah! I must save her.”
Close at hand Colonel Bayen noticed a thick un-
derbrush. It was the work of a moment to trans-
port Colette in his arms and hide her in the thickest
part of the brush.
“De Tersy and Krampft will never find her here,”
he thought, “and I shall have time to reach Brigitte.”
Colonel Bayen ran to the park. A few yards
away Krampft and de Tersy passed him on their
way out; and he had the courage to let them go.
It would have been imprudent to attempt to kill
them.
He would find them again later on.
He would punish them as soon as he was free
to act.
Krampft and de Tersy had scarcely left the park
when Colonel Bayen was on his knees by the body
of his wife, Brigitte Bayen.
The unfortunate woman was dying.
A white froth was on her lips.
A terrible poison was this cyanide of potassium!
And its effects were immediate and overwhelming.
“Brigittel Brigitte! Can't you hear me? It is
I—your husband l Oh! speak to me! You must]
For France l’”
For Francel
The magic words again performed a miracle.
Brigitte Bayen stirred. A light shone in her
eyes—her lips attempted to frame the words.
Did she recognize her husband? Yes, without
doubt.


XIX
THE LAST BATTLE
66 ELL, Lieutenant?”
“Well, La Flemme?”
“We are almost comfortable. We can have a
chat.”
“You want to talk, then?”
“I should say so! Think! eleven days of silenceſ
After blowing up the house and getting away, I
waited eleven days for you at Cirey. And I don't
like holding my tongue.”
“So you want to make up for it now?”
“Yes—but hold on, Lieutenant.”
La Flemme was obliged to shout at the top of his
voice.
Why?
The orderly went on:
“You weigh I 50 pounds. I weigh 148. The
fat chap there about 180—and we are carrying 8oo
pounds of bombs"
But Monet did not answer.
He pointed his revolver and ordered:
“Go straight now! Don't try any tricks or I'll
blow out your brains !”
Monet shifted in his seat, and La Flemme bel-
lowed:
“Careful, Lieutenant! You make me giddy.
338


THE LAST BATTLE 341
He could only stammer one name:
“Colettel Colettel”
And it was a cry of joy which answered him:
“Monet! My love—is it you?”
Chance had guided the officer to his fiancéel
At that moment, a few feet away, Colonel Bayen
repeated:
“Only a minute, Sire.”
The officer felt strangely calm.
It was an act of justice he was about to per-
form.
The revolver with which he covered the Kaiser
did not tremble.
The master of Germany once again cried:
“Pity !”
And then, with an agility one would not have
thought him capable of, he sprang up.
Oh! the necessary precautions had been well taken.
The sovereign assassin had more than one means
of defense installed in his park.
Before Colonel Bayen could fire, the Kaiser had
reached the pedestal of a marble statue.
His hand touched it.
A loud explosion followed.
And then, the ground seemed to open—a flame
of fire rose skyward.
The Kaiser had set off a mine hidden under the
path.
Flung to the ground, Colonel Bayen lay bleeding
with torn breast.
At the sound of the explosion, Monet and Colette
rushed forward.


THE LAST BATTLE 343
the palace grounds, was certain he had seen the
aeroplane. -
“There !” he cried. “Listen!”
And, in fact, the whirring of an engine became
audible at that moment.
A hundred persons made a rush for the lawn.
By the side of the aeroplane Monet and La
Flemme were seen.
“Start, La Flemmel Start off ſ”
“Without you? Never!”
“Yes, take Colette, save her l’”
At the moment of Colonel Bayen's death, Colette
had fainted and Monet had been obliged to carry
her in his arms to the aeroplane, where La Flemme
had dragged her on board.
“I must remain here,” declared Monet. “I must
find Krampft and kill him!”
“Hands up ! Surrender!”
“Fire!”
Monet heard the balls whistle about his ears but
he paid no attention to them. -
His eyes were fastened on a man who was aiming
at him, slowly and methodically.
It was Krampft.
Monet raised his Browning and fired.
He saw Krampft—the enemy—Fantômas of
Berlin—fall dead, shot through the head.
And then he was seized by the shoulders.
“How obstinate you are, Lieutenant! It's lucky
I am here!”
The machine started.
La Flemme with one hand held his revolver at


344 THE YELLOW DOCUMENT .
the head of the pilot and with the other hauled
Monet on board and flung him down beside Colette.
Three months later the Petit Journal announced
the marriage of Captain Monet and Mlle. Colette
Bayen, daughter of the regretted colonel.
The Petit Journal added that the young officer,
decorated with the Croix de Guerre and the Legion
bf Honor, had obstinately refused to be transferred
to the Ministry of War and asked to be sent back to
his place at the front. .
THE END.


ae


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