The triumphs of Eugène Valmont





















'Selected a little iron crucifix . . . the work of some ancient
craftsman."


The TRIUMPHS of
EUGENE VALMONT
By
ROBERT BARR

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK
1906


Copyright, 1904, 1905, by
THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
Copyright, 1906, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Published March, 190S


CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAOE
I. —The Finding op the Fated Five Hundred . . i
II. —The Scene in the Sale Room 10
III. —The Midnight Race Down the Seine .... 26
IV. —The Oddities of the English 40
V. —The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower . . .57
VI. —A Rebuff and a Response ....... 71
VII.—In the Grip of the Green Demon .... 80
VIII.—The Fate of the Picric Bomb 91
IX.—The Dinner for Seven in the Temple . . .102
X.—The Clew of the Silver Spoons 111
XI.—"O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle!" . . . .130
XII.—Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune .... 148
XIII. —The Futility of a Search Warrant . . . .165
XIV. —Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard . . . . 171
XV.—The Strange House in Park Lane . . . .182
XVI.—The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road . . 193
XVII.—The Absent-minded Coterie 209
XVIII.—The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks 224
XIX.—A Commission from Lord Rantremly .... 240
XX.—The Ghost with the Clubfoot 250
XXI. —The Secret of a Noble House 267
XXII. —Liberating the Wrong Man 281
XXIII. —The Fascinating Lady Alicia 298
XXIV. —Where the Emeralds were Found . . . .313
v


1


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PACB
"Selected a little iron crucifix . . . the work of some ancient
craftsman" Frontispiece
"I returned the stare with such composure as I could bring to
my aid" 84
"Then, sitting up, he began playing with this infernal machine" 94
"He had never seen the earl so angry before " . . . . 160
"' Because, Mr. Valmont, it did not belong to you . . . because
you stole it'" 222
"' He fell backward and his head struck the sharp stone at the
foot of the altar"' 236
"' His dead comrades ask the traitor to join them '" . . . 294
"Mr. Jonas Carter" 316
vii





THE TRIUMPHS
OF EUGENE VALMONT
CHAPTER I
THE FINDING OF THE FATED FIVE HUNDRED
HEN I say I am called Valmont, the name
will convey no impression to the reader
one way or another. My occupation is
that of private detective in London, but
if you ask any policeman in Paris who
Valmont was he will likely be able to tell you, unless he
is a recent recruit. If you ask him where Valmont is
now, he may not know, yet I have a good deal to do with
the Parisian police.
For a period of seven years I was chief detective to
the Government of France, and if I am unable to prove
myself a great crime hunter, it is because the record of
my career is in the secret archives of Paris.
I may admit at the outset that I have no grievances
to air. The French Government considered itself justi-
fied in dismissing me, and it did so. In this action it
was quite within its right, and I should be the last to

I


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
dispute that right; but, on the other hand, I consider
myself justified in publishing the following account of
what actually occurred, especially as so many false ru-
mors have been put abroad concerning the case. How-
ever, as I said at the beginning, I hold no grievance,
because my worldly affairs are now much more prosper-
ous than they were in Paris, my intimate knowledge of
that city and the country of which it is the capital bring-
ing to me many cases with which I have dealt more or
less successfully since I established myself in London.
Without further preliminary I shall at once plunge
into an account of the case which riveted the attention
of the whole world a little more than a decade ago.
The year 1893 was a prosperous twelve months for
France. The weather was good, the harvest excellent,
and the wine of that vintage is celebrated to this day.
Everyone was well off and reasonably happy, a marked
contrast to the state of things a few years later, when
dissension over the Dreyfus case rent the country in
twain.
Newspaper readers may remember that in 1893 the
Government of France fell heir to an unexpected treas-
ure which set the civilized world agog, especially those
inhabitants of it who are interested in historical relics.
This was the finding of the diamond necklace in the
Chateau de Chaumont, where it had rested undiscovered
for a century in a rubbish heap of an attic. I believe it
has not been questioned that this was the veritable neck-
lace which the court jeweler, Boehmer, hoped to sell to
Marie Antoinette, although how it came to be in the
2


The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred
Chateau de Chaumont no one has been able to form even
a conjecture. For a hundred years it was supposed that
the necklace had been broken up in London, and its
half a thousand stones, great and small, sold separately.
It has always seemed strange to me that the Countess
de Lamotte-Valois, who was thought to have profited by
the sale of these jewels, should not have abandoned
France if she possessed money to leave that country, for
exposure was inevitable if she remained. Indeed, the
unfortunate woman was branded and imprisoned, and
afterwards was dashed to death from the third story of
a London house, when, in the direst poverty, she sought
escape, from the consequences of the debts she had
incurred.
I am not superstitious in the least, yet this celebrated
piece of treasure-trove seems actually to have exerted a
malign influence over everyone who had the misfortune
to be connected with it. Indeed, in a small way, I who
write these words suffered dismissal and disgrace,
though I caught but one glimpse of this dazzling scintil-
lation of jewels. The jeweler who made the necklace
met financial ruin; the Queen for whom it was con-
structed was beheaded; that high-born Prince Louis
Rene Edouard, Cardinal de Rohan, who purchased it,
was flung into prison; the unfortunate countess, who
said she acted as go-between until the transfer was con-
cluded, clung for five awful minutes to a London win-
dow sill before dropping to her death to the flags below;
and now, a hundred and eight years later, up comes this
devil's display of fireworks' to the light again!
3


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Droulliard, the workingman who found the ancient
box, seems to have pried it open, and ignorant though
he was—he had probably never seen a diamond in his
life before—realized that a fortune was in his grasp.
The baleful glitter from the combination must have sent
madness into his brain, working havoc therein as though
the shafts of brightness were those mysterious rays
which scientists have recently discovered. He might
quite easily have walked through the main gate of the
chateau unsuspected and unquestioned with the dia-
monds concealed about his person, but instead of this
he crept from the attic window on to the steep roof,
slipped to the eaves, fell to the ground, and lay dead
with a broken neck, while the necklace, intact, shim-
mered in the sunlight beside his body.
No matter where these jewels had been found the
Government would have insisted that they belonged to
the treasury of the Republic; but as the Chateau de
Chaumont was an historical monument, and the property
of France, there could be no question regarding the
ownership of the necklace. The Government at once
claimed it, and ordered it to be sent by a trustworthy
military man to Paris. It was carried safely and de-
livered promptly to the authorities by Alfred Dreyfus,
a young captain of artillery, to whom its custody had
been intrusted.
In spite of its fall from the tall tower neither case
nor jewels were perceptibly damaged. The lock of the
box had apparently been forced by Droulliard's hatchet,
or perhaps by the clasp-knife found on his body. On
4


The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred
reaching the ground the lid had flown open, and the
necklace was thrown out.
I believe there was some discussion in the cabinet
regarding the fate of this ill-omened trophy, one section
wishing it to be placed in a museum on account of its
historical interest, another advocating the breaking up
of the necklace and the selling of the diamonds for
what they would fetch. But a third party maintained
that the method to get the most money into the coffers
of the country was to sell the necklace as it stood, for as
the world now contains so many rich amateurs who col-
lect undoubted rarities, regardless of expense, the his-
toric associations of the jeweled collar would enhance
the intrinsic value of the stones; and, this view prevail-
ing, it was announced that the necklace would be sold
by auction a month later in the rooms of Meyer, Renault
& Co., in the Boulevard des Italiens, near the Bank of
the Credit-Lyonnais.
This announcement elicited much comment from the
newspapers of all countries, and it seemed that, from a
financial point of view at least, the decision of the Gov-
ernment had been wise, for it speedily became evident
that a notable coterie of wealthy buyers would be con-
gregated in Paris on the thirteenth (unlucky day for
me!) when the sale was to take place. But we of the
inner circle were made aware of another result some-
what more disquieting, which was that the most expert
criminals in the world were also gathering like vultures
upon the fair city. The honor of France was at stake.
Whoever bought that necklace must be assured of a safe
5


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
conduct out of the country. We might view with
equanimity whatever happened afterwards, but while he
was a resident of France his life and property must not
be endangered. Thus it came about that I was given
full authority to insure that neither murder nor theft
nor both combined should be committed while the pur-
chaser of the necklace remained within our boundaries,
and for this purpose the police resources of France were
placed unreservedly at my disposal. If I failed there
should be no one to blame but myself; consequently, as
I have remarked before, I do not complain of my dis-
missal by the Government.
The broken lock of the jewel case had been very
deftly repaired by an expert locksmith, who in executing
his task was so unfortunate as to scratch a finger on the
broken metal, whereupon blood poisoning set in, and
although his life was saved, he was dismissed from the
hospital with his right arm gone and his usefulness
destroyed.
When the jeweler Boehmer made the necklace he
asked eight hundred thousand dollars for it, but after
years of disappointment he was content to sell it to
Cardinal de Rohan for three hundred and twenty thou-
sand dollars, to be liquidated in three installments, not
one of which was ever paid. This latter amount was
probably somewhere near the value of the five hundred
and sixteen separate stones, one of which was of tre-
mendous size, a very monarch of diamonds, holding its
court among seventeen brilliants each as large as a
filbert. This iridescent concentration of wealth was, as
6


The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred
one might say, placed in my care, and I had to see to it
that no harm came to the necklace or to its prospective
owner until they were safely across the boundaries of
France.
The four weeks previous to the thirteenth proved a
busy and anxious time for me. Thousands, most of
whom were actuated by mere curiosity, wished to view
the diamonds. We were compelled to discriminate, and
sometimes discriminated against the wrong person,
which caused unpleasantness. Three distinct attempts
were made to rob the safe, but luckily these criminal
efforts were frustrated, and so we came unscathed to the
eventful thirteenth of the month.
The sale was to begin at two o'clock, and on the
morning of that day I took the somewhat tyrannical
precaution of having the more dangerous of our own
malefactors, and as many of the foreign thieves as I
could trump up charges against, laid by the heels. Yet
I knew very well it was not these rascals I had most to
fear, but the suave, well-groomed gentlemen, amply sup-
plied with unimpeachable credentials, stopping at our
fine hotels and living like princes. Many of these were
foreigners against whom we could prove nothing, and
whose arrest might land us into temporary international
difficulties. Nevertheless, I had each of them shadowed,
and on the morning of the thirteenth if one of them had
even disputed a cab fare I should have had him in prison
half an hour later, and taken the consequences; but these
gentlemen are very shrewd and do not commit mistakes.
I made up a list of all the men in the world who were
Z


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
able or likely to purchase the necklace. Many of them
would not be present in person at the auction rooms;
their bidding would be done by agents. This simplified
matters a good deal, for the agents kept me duly in-
formed of their purposes, and, besides, an agent who
handles treasure every week is an adept at the business,
and does not need the protection which must surround
an amateur, who in nine cases out of ten has but scant
idea of the dangers that threaten him, beyond knowing
that if he goes down a dark street in a dangerous quarter
he is likely to be maltreated and robbed.
There were no less than sixteen clients all told, whom
we learned were to attend personally on the day of the
sale, any one of whom might well have made the pur-
chase. The Marquis of Warlingham and Lord Oxtead
from England were well-known jewel fanciers, while at
least half a dozen millionaires were expected from the
United States, with a smattering from Germany, Aus-
tria, and Russia, and one each from Italy, Belgium, and
Holland.
Admission to the auction rooms was allowed by ticket
only, to be applied for at least a week in advance, ap-
plications to be accompanied by satisfactory testimonials.
It would possibly have surprised many of the rich men
collected there to know that they sat cheek by jowl with
some of the most noted thieves of England and America,
but I allowed this for two reasons: first, I wished to keep
these sharpers under my own eye until I knew who had
bought the necklace; and, secondly, I was desirous that
they should not know they were suspected.

8


The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred
I stationed trusty men outside on the Boulevard des
Italiens, each of whom knew by sight most of the prob-
able purchasers of the necklace. It was arranged that
when the sale was over I should walk out to the boule-
vard alongside the man who was the new owner of the
diamonds, and from that moment until he quitted France
my men were not to lose sight of him if he took personal
custody of the stones, instead of doing the sensible and
proper thing of having them insured and forwarded to
his residence by some responsible transit company, or
depositing them in the bank. In fact, I took every pre-
caution that occurred to me. All police Paris was on the
qui vive, and felt itself pitted against the scoundrelism
of the world.
For one reason or another it was nearly half past
two before the sale began. There had been considerable
delay because of forged tickets, and, indeed, each order
for admittance was so closely scrutinized that this in
itself took a good deal more time than we anticipated.
Every chair was occupied, and still a number of the visi-
tors were compelled to stand. I stationed myself by the
swinging doors at the entrance end of the hall, where I
could command a view of the entire assemblage. Some
of my men were placed with backs against the wall, while
others were distributed among the chairs, all in plain
clothes. During the sale the diamonds themselves were
not displayed, but the box containing them rested in
front of the auctioneer, and three policemen in uniform
stood guard on either side.
2
9


CHAPTER II
THE SCENE IN THE SALE ROOM
ERY quietly the auctioneer began by saying
that there was no need for him to expati-
ate on the notable character of the treas-
ure he was privileged to offer for sale,
and with this preliminary he requested
those present to bid. Some one offered twenty thousand
francs, which was received with much laughter; then
the bidding went steadily on until it reached nine hun-
dred thousand francs, which I knew to be less than half
the reserve the Government had placed upon the neck-
lace. The contest advanced more slowly until the mil-
lion and a half was touched, and there it hung fire for a
time, while the auctioneer remarked that this sum did
not equal that which the maker of the necklace had
finally been forced to accept for it. After another pause
he added that, as the reserve was not exceeded, the neck-
lace would be withdrawn, and probably never again
offered for sale. He therefore urged those who were
holding back to make their bids now. At this the con-
test livened until the sum of two million three hundred
thousand francs had been offered, and now I knew the
necklace would be sold. Nearing the three million mark
the competition thinned down to a few dealers from

10


The Scene in the Sale Room
Hamburg and the Marquis of Warlingham, from Eng-
land, when a voice that had not yet been heard in the
auction room was lifted in a tone of some impatience:
"One million dollars!"
There was an instant hush, followed by the scrib-
bling of pencils, as each person present reduced the sum
to its equivalent in his own currency—pounds for the
English, francs for the French, marks for the German,
and so on. The aggressive tone and the clear-cut face
of the bidder proclaimed him an American, not less than
the financial denomination he had used. In a moment
it was realized that his bid was a clear leap of more
than two million francs, and a sigh went up from the
audience as if this settled it, and the great sale was
done. Nevertheless the auctioneer's hammer hovered
over the lid of his desk, and he looked up and down the
long line of faces turned toward him. He seemed re-
luctant to tap the board, but no one ventured to com-
pete against this tremendous sum, and with a sharp click
the mallet fell.
"What name?" he asked, bending over toward the
customer.
"Cash," replied the American; "here's a check for
the amount. I'll take the diamonds with me."
"Your request is somewhat unusual," protested the
auctioneer mildly.
"I know what you mean," interrupted the Ameri-
can; "you think the check may not be cashed. You
will notice it is drawn on the Credit-Lyonnais, which is
practically next door. I must have the jewels with me.


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
be genuine, and that the fraud, wherever it lay, might
not be disclosed in time to aid the authorities. My duty,
therefore, was to make sure we lost sight of neither the
buyer nor the thing bought. Of course, I could not
arrest the purchaser merely on suspicion; besides, it
would make the Government the laughing-stock of the
world if it sold a case of jewels and immediately
placed the buyer in custody when it itself had handed
over his goods to him. Ridicule kills in France. A
breath of laughter may blow a government out of
existence in Paris much more effectually than will a
whiff of cannon smoke. My duty then was to give the
Government full warning, and never lose sight of my
man until he was clear of France; then my responsi-
bility ended.
I took aside one of my own men in plain clothes and
said to him:
"You have seen the American who has bought the
necklace?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Go outside quietly and station your-
self there. He is likely to emerge presently with the
jewels in his possession. You are not to lose sight of
either the man or the casket. I shall follow him and
be close behind him as he emerges, and you are to
shadow us. If he parts with the case you must be ready
at a sign from me to follow either the man or the jewels.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," he answered, and left the room.
It is ever the unforeseen that baffles us; it is easy to
14


The Scene in the Sale Room
be wise after the event. I should have sent two men,
and I have often thought since how admirable is the
regulation of the Italian Government which sends out its
policemen in pairs. Or I should have given my man
power to call for help, but even as it was he did only
half as well as I had a right to expect of him, and the
blunder he committed by a moment's dull-witted hesi-
tation—ah, well! there is no use in scolding. After all
the result might have been the same.
Just as my man disappeared between the two folding
doors the official from the Ministry of the Interior en-
tered. I intercepted him about halfway on his journey
from the door to the auctioneer.
"Possibly the check appears to be genuine," I whis-
pered to him.
"But certainly," he replied pompously. He was an
individual greatly impressed with his own importance;
a kind of character with which it is always difficult to
deal. Afterwards the Government asserted that this offi-
cial had warned me, and the utterances of an empty-
headed ass dressed in a little brief authority, as the Eng-
lish poet says, were looked upon as the epitome of
wisdom.
"I advise you strongly not to hand over the neck-
lace as has been requested," I went on.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I am convinced the bidder is a criminal."
"If you have proof of that, arrest him."
"I have no proof at the present moment, but I re-
quest you to delay the delivery of the goods."
15


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"That is absurd," he cried impatiently. "The neck-
lace is his, not ours. The money has already been trans-
ferred to the account of the Government; we cannot
retain the five million francs, and refuse to hand over
to him what he has bought with them," and so the man
left me standing there, nonplussed and anxious. The
eyes of everyone in the room had been turned on us
during our brief conversation, and now the official pro-
ceeded ostentatiously up the room with a grand air of
importance; then, with a bow and flourish of the hand,
he said dramatically:
"The jewels belong to monsieur."
The two Americans rose simultaneously, the taller
holding out his hand while the auctioneer passed to him
the case he had apparently paid so highly for. The
American nonchalantly opened the box and for the first
time the electric radiance of the jewels burst upon that
audience, each member of which craned his neck to
behold it. It seemed to me a most reckless thing to do.
He examined the jewels minutely for a few moments,
then snapped the lid shut again, and calmly put the box
in his outside pocket, and I could not help noticing that
the light overcoat he wore possessed pockets made ex-
traordinarily large, as if on purpose for this very case.
And now this amazing man walked ^serenely down the
room past miscreants who joyfully would have cut his
throat for even the smallest diamond in that conglomera-
tion; yet he did not take the trouble to put his hand on
the pocket which contained the case, or in any way at-
tempt to protect it. The assemblage seemed stricken
16


The Scene in the Sale Room
dumb by his audacity. His friend followed closely at
his heels, and the tall man disappeared through the fold-
ing doors. Not so the other. He turned quickly, and
whipped two revolvers out of his pockets, which he
presented at the astonished crowd. There had been a
movement on the part of everyone to leave the room, but
the sight of these deadly weapons confronting them
made each one shrink into his place again.
The man with his back to the door spoke in a loud
and domineering voice, asking the auctioneer to trans-
late what he had to say into French and German; he
spoke in English.
"These here shiners are valuable; they belong to
i my friend who has just gone out. Casting no reflections
on the generality of people in this room, there are, never-
theless, half a dozen 'crooks' among us whom my
friend wishes to avoid. Now, no honest man here will
object to giving the buyer of that there trinket five clear
minutes in which to get away. It's only the 'crooks'
that can kick. I ask these five minutes as a favor, but
if they are not granted I am going to take them as a
right. Any man who moves will get shot."
"I am an honest man," I cried, "and I object. I
am chief detective of the French Government. Stand
aside; the police will protect your friend."
"Hold on, my son," warned the American, turning
one weapon directly upon me, while the other held a sort
of roving commission, pointing all over the room. "My
friend is from New York and he distrusts the police as
much as he does the grafters. You may be twenty detec-


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
tives, but if you move before that clock strikes three, I'll
bring you down, and don't you forget it."
It is one thing to face death in a fierce struggle, but
quite another to advance coldly upon it toward the muz-
zle of a pistol held so steadily that there could be no
chance of escape. The gleam of determination in the
man's eye convinced me he meant what he said. I did
not consider then, nor have I considered since, that the
next five minutes, precious as they were, would be worth
paying my life for. Apparently everyone else was of
my opinion, for none moved hand or foot until the clock
slowly struck three.
"Thank you, gentlemen," said the American, as he
vanished between the spring-doors. When I say van-
ished, I mean that word and no other, because my men
outside saw nothing of this individual then or later. He
vanished as if he had never existed, and it was some
hours before we found how this had been accomplished.
I rushed out almost on his heels, as one might say,
and hurriedly questioned my waiting men. They had
all seen the tall American come out with the greatest
leisureliness and stroll toward the west. As he was
not the man any of them were looking for they paid
no further attention to him, as, indeed, is the custom
with our Parisian force. They have eyes for nothing
but what they are sent to look for, and this trait has its
drawbacks for their superiors.
I ran up the boulevard, my whole thought intent on
the diamonds and their owner. I knew my subordinate
in command of the men inside the hall would look after
18
i


The Scene in the Sale Room
the scoundrel with the pistols. A short distance up I
found the stupid fellow I had sent out, standing in a
dazed manner at the corner of the Rue Michodiere,
gazing alternately down that short street and toward
the Place de l'Opera. The very fact that he was there
furnished proof that he had failed.
"Where is the American?" I demanded.
"He went down this street, sir."
"Then why are you standing here like a fool?"
"I followed him this far, when a man came up the
Rue Michodiere, and without a word the American
handed him the jewel box, turning instantly down the
street up which the other had come. The other jumped
into a zab, and drove toward the Place de l'Opera."
"And what did you do? Stood here like a post, I
suppose?"
"I didn't know what to do, sir. It all happened in
a moment."
"Why didn't you follow the cab?"
"I didn't know which to follow, sir, and the cab was
gone instantly while I watched the American."
"What was its number?"
"I don't know, sir."
"You clod! Why didn't you call one of our men,
whoever was nearest, and leave him to shadow the Amer-
ican while you followed the cab?"
"I did shout to the nearest man, sir, but he said you
told him to stay there and watch the English lord, and
even before he had spoken both American and cabman
were out of sight."
19


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Was the man to whom he gave the box an Amer-
ican also?"
"No, sir, he was French."
"How do you know?"
"By his appearance and the words he spoke."
"I thought you said he didn't speak?"
"He did not speak to the American, sir, but he said
to the cabman,' Drive to the Madeleine as quickly as you
can.
"Describe the man."
"He was a head shorter than the American, wore
a black beard and mustache rather neatly trimmed, and
seemed to be a superior sort of artisan."
"You did not take the number of the cab. Should
you know the cabman if you saw him again?"
"Yes, sir, I think so."
Taking this fellow with me I returned to the now
nearly empty auction room and there gathered all my
men about me. Each in his notebook took down particu-
lars of the cabman and his passenger from the lips of my
incompetent spy; next I dictated a full description of the
two Americans, then scattered my men to the various
railway stations of the lines leading out of Paris, with
orders to make inquiries of the police on duty there,
and to arrest one or more of the four persons described
should they be so fortunate as to find any of them.
I now learned how the rogue with the pistols van-
ished so completely as he did. My subordinate in the
auction room had speedily solved the mystery. To the
left of the main entrance of the auction room was a door
20


The Scene in the Sale Room
that gave private access to the rear of the premises.
As the attendant in charge confessed when questioned,
he had been bribed by the American earlier in the day to
leave this side door open and to allow the man to escape
by the goods entrance. Thus the ruffian did not appear
on the boulevard at all, and so had not been observed
by any of my men.
Taking my futile spy with me I returned to my own
office, and sent an order throughout the city that every
cabman who had been in the Boulevard des Italiens be-
tween half past two and half past three that afternoon,
should report immediately to me. The examination
of these men proved a very tedious business indeed, but
whatever other countries may say of us, we French are
patient, and if the haystack is searched long enough
the needle will be found. I did not discover the needle
I was looking for, but I came upon one quite as im-
portant, if not more so.
It was nearly ten o'clock at night when a cabman
answered my oft-repeated questions in the affirmative.
"Did you take up a passenger a few minutes past
three o'clock on the Boulevard des Italiens, near the Cre-
dit-Lyonnais? Had he a short black beard? Did he
carry a small box in his hand and order you to drive
to the Madeleine?"
The cabman seemed puzzled.
"He wore a short black beard when he got out of
the cab," he replied.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I drive a closed cab, sir. When he got in he was
21


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
a smooth-faced gentleman; when he got out he wore a
short black beard."
"Was he a Frenchman?"
"No, sir; he was a foreigner, either English or
American."
"Was he carrying a box?"
"No, sir; he held in his hand a small leather bag."
"Where did he tell you to drive?"
"He told me to follow the cab in front, which had
just driven off very rapidly toward the Madeleine. In
fact, I heard the man, such as you describe, order the
other cabman to drive to the Madeleine. I had come
alongside the curb when this man held up his hand for
a cab, but the open cab cut in ahead of me. Just then my
passenger stepped up and said in French, but with a
foreign accent: ' Follow that cab wherever it goes.'"
I turned with some indignation to my inefficient spy.
"You told me," I said, "that the American had
gone down a side street. Yet he evidently met a second
man, obtained from him the handbag, turned back, and
got into the closed cab directly behind you."
"Well, sir," stammered the spy, "I could not look
in two directions at the same time. The American cer-
tainly went down the side street, but of course I watched
the cab which contained the jewels."
"And you saw nothing of the closed cab right at your
elbow?"
"The boulevard was full of cabs, sir, and the pave-
ment crowded with passers-by, as it always is at that
hour of the day, and I have only two eyes in my head."
22


The Scene in the Sale Room
"I am glad to know you had that many, for I was
beginning to think you were blind."
Although I said this, I knew in my heart it was use-
less to censure the poor wretch, for the fault was en-
tirely my own in not sending two men, and in failing to
guess the possibility of the jewels and their owner being
separated. Besides, here was a clew to my hand at last,
and no time must be lost in following it up. So I con-
tinued my interrogation of the cabman.
"The other cab was an open vehicle, you say?"
"Yes, sir."" •
"You succeeded in following it?"
"Oh, yes, sir. At the Madeleine the man in front re-
directed the coachman, who turned to the left and drove
to the Place de la Concorde, then up the Champs Ely-
sees to the Arch and so down the Avenue de la Grande
Armee, and the Avenue de Neuilly, to the Pont de
Neuilly, where it came to a standstill. My fare got out,
and I saw he now wore a short black beard, which he
had evidently put on inside the cab. He gave me a
ten-franc piece, which was very satisfactory."
"And the fare you were following? What did he
do?"
"He also stepped out, paid the cabman, went down
the bank of the river and got on board a steam launch
that seemed to be waiting for him."
"Did he look behind, or appear to know that he was
being followed?"
"No, sir."
"And your fare?"
23


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"He ran after the first man, and also went aboard
the steam launch, which instantly started down the
river."
"And that was the last you saw of them?"
"Yes, sir."
"At what time did you reach the Pont de Neuilly?"
"I do not know, sir; I was compelled to drive rather
fast, but the distance is seven or eight kilometers."
"You would do it under the hour?"
"But certainly, under the hour."
"Then you must have reached Neuilly bridge about
four o'clock?"
"It is very likely, sir."
The plan of the tall American was now perfectly clear
to me, and it comprised nothing that was contrary to
law. He had evidently placed his luggage on board the
steam launch in the morning. The handbag had con-
tained various materials which would enable him to dis-
guise himself, and this bag he had probably left in some
shop down the side street, or else some one was waiting
with it for him. The giving of the treasure to another
man was not so risky as it had at first appeared, because
he instantly followed that man, who was probably his
confidential servant. Despite the windings of the river
there was ample time for the launch to reach Havre be-
fore the American steamer sailed on Saturday morning.
I surmised it was his intention to come alongside the
steamer before she left her berth in Havre harbor, and
thus transfer himself and his belongings unperceived
by anyone on watch at the land side of the liner.


The Scene in the Sale Room
All this, of course, was perfectly justifiable, and
seemed, in truth, merely a well-laid scheme for escaping
observation. His only danger of being tracked was
when he got into the cab. Once away from the neigh-
borhood of the Boulevard des Italiens he was reason-
ably sure to evade pursuit, and the five minutes which
his friend with the pistols had won for him afforded
just the time he needed to get so far as the Place Made-
leine, and after that everything was easy. Yet, if it had
not been for those five minutes secured by coercion, I
should not have found the slightest excuse for arrest-
ing him. But he was accessory after the act in that
piece of illegality—in fact, it was absolutely certain that
he had been accessory before the act, and guilty of con-
spiracy with the man who had presented firearms to the
auctioneer's audience, and who had interfered with an
officer in the discharge of his duty by threatening me
and my men. So I was now legally in the right if I
arrested every person on board that steam launch.
8
25


CHAPTER III
THE MIDNIGHT RACE DOWN THE SEINE
ITH a map of the river before me I pro-
ceeded to make some calculations. It was
now nearly ten o'clock at night. The
launch had had six hours in which to
travel at its utmost speed. It was doubt-
ful if so small a vessel could make ten miles an hour,
even with the current in its favor, which is rather slug-
gish because of the locks and the level country. Sixty
miles would place her beyond Meulan, which is fifty-eight
miles from the Pont Royal, and, of course, a lesser dis-
tance from the Pont de Neuilly. But the navigation of
the river is difficult at all times, and almost impossible
after dark. There were chances of the boat running
aground, and then there was the inevitable delay at the
locks. So I estimated that the launch could not yet have
reached Meulan, which was less than twenty-five miles
from Paris by rail. Looking up the time table I saw
there were still two trains to Meulan, the next at 10.25,
which reached Meulan at 11.40. I therefore had time
to reach St. Lazare station, and accomplish some tele-
graphing before the train left.
With three of my assistants I got into a cab and
drove to the station. On arrival I sent one of my men

26


The Midnight Race Down the Seine
to hold the train while I went into the telegraph office,
cleared the wires, and got into communication with the
lock master at Meulan. He replied that no steam launch
had passed down since an hour before sunset. I then in-
structed him to allow the yacht to enter the lock, close
the upper gate, let half of the water out, and hold the
vessel there until I came. I also ordered the local Meu-
lan police to send enough men to the lock to enforce
this command. Lastly, I sent messages all along the
river asking the police to report to me on the train the
passage of the steam launch.
The 10.25 is a sl°w train, stopping at every station.
However, every drawback has its compensation, and
these stoppages enabled me to receive and to send tele-
graphic messages. I was quite well aware that I might
be on a fool's errand in going to Meulan. The yacht
could have put about before it had steamed a mile, and
so returned back to Paris. There had been no time to
learn whether this was so or not if I was to catch the
10.25. Also, it might have landed its passengers any-
where along the river. I may say at once that neither
of these two things happened, and my calculations re-
garding her movements were accurate to the letter. But
a trap most carefully set may be prematurely sprung by
inadvertence, or more often by the overzeal of some
stupid ass who fails to understand his instructions, or
oversteps them if they are understood. I received a
most annoying telegram from Denouval, a lock about
thirteen miles above that of Meulan. The local police-
man, arriving at the lock, found that the yacht had just
27


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
cleared. The fool shouted to the captain to return,
threatening him with all the pains and penalties of tht
law if he refused. The captain did refuse, rang on full
speed ahead, and disappeared in the darkness. Througti
this well-meant blunder of an understrapper those on
board the launch had received warning that we were on
their track. I telegraphed to the lockkeeper at Denou-
val to allow no craft to pass toward Paris until further
orders. We thus held the launch in a thirteen mile
stretch of water, but the night was pitch dark, and pas-
sengers might be landed on either bank with all France
before them, over which to effect their escape in any
direction.
It was midnight when I reached the lock at Meulan,
and, as was to be expected, nothing had been seen or
heard of the launch. It gave me some satisfaction to
telegraph to that dunderhead at Denouval to walk along
the river bank to Meulan, and report if he learned
the launch's whereabouts. We took up our quarters in
the lodgekeeper's house and waited. There was little
sense in sending men to scour the country at this time of
night, for the pursued were on the alert, and very un-
likely to allow themselves to be caught if they had gone
ashore. On the other hand, there was every chance that
the captain would refuse to let them land, because he
must know his vessel was in a trap from which it could
not escape, and although the demand of the policeman
at Denouval was quite unauthorized, nevertheless the
captain could not know that, while he must be well aware
of his danger in refusing to obey a command from the
28


The Midnight Race Down the Seine
authorities. Even if he got away for the moment he
must know that arrest was certain, and that his punish-
ment would be severe. His only plea could be that he
had not heard and understood the order to return. But
this plea would be invalidated if he aided in the escape
of two men, whom he must now know were wanted by
the police. I was therefore very confident that if his
passengers asked to be set ashore, the captain would re-
fuse when he had had time to think about his own
danger. My estimate proved accurate, for toward one
o'clock the lockkeeper came in and said the green and
red lights of an approaching craft were visible, and
as he spoke the yacht whistled for the opening of the
lock. I stood by the lockkeeper while he opened the
gates; my men and the local police were concealed on
each side of the lock. The launch came slowly in, and
as soon as it had done so I asked the captain to step
ashore, which he did.
"I wish a word with you," I said. "Follow me."
I took him into the lockkeeper's house and closed
the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To Havre."
"Where did you come from?"
"Paris."
"From what quay?"
"From the Pont de Neuilly."
"When did you leave there?"
"At five minutes to four o'clock this afternoon."
"Yesterday afternoon, you mean?"
29


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Who engaged you to make this voyage?"
"An American; I do not know his name."
"He paid you well, I suppose?"
"He paid me what I asked."
"Have you received the money?"
Yes, sir."
"I may inform you, captain, that I am Eugene Val-
mont, chief detective of the French Government, and
that all the police of France at this moment are under
my control. I ask you, therefore, to be careful of your
answers. You were ordered by a policeman at De-
nouval to return. Why did you not do so?"
"The lockkeeper ordered me to return, but as he had
no right to order me, I went on."
"You know very well it was the police who ordered
you, and you ignored the command. Again I ask you
why you did so."
"I did not know it was the police."
"I thought you would say that. You knew very
well, but were paid to take the risk, and it is likely to cost
you dear. You had two passengers aboard?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you put them ashore between here and De-
nouval?"
"No, sir; but one of them went overboard, and we
couldn't find him again."
"Which one?"
"The short man."
"Then the American is still aboard?"
30


The Midnight Race Down the Seine
"What American, sir?"
"Captain, you must not trifle' with me. The man
who engaged you is still aboard?"
"Oh, no, sir; he has never been aboard."
"Do you mean to tell me that the second man who
came on your launch at the Pont de Neuilly is not the
American who engaged you?"
"No, sir; the American was a smooth-faced man;
this man wore a black beard."
"Yes, a false beard."
"I did not know that, sir. I understood from the
American that I was to take but one passenger. One
came aboard with a small box in his hand; the other
with a small bag. Each declared himself to be the pas-
senger in question. I did not know what to do, so I left
Paris with both of them on board."
"Then the tall man with the black beard is still
with you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, captain, is there anything else you have to
tell me? I think you will find it better in the end to
make a clean breast of it."
The captain hesitated, turning his cap about in his
hands for a few moments, then he said:
"I am not sure that the first passenger went over-
board of his own accord. When the police hailed us at
Denouval"
"Ah! you knew it was the police, then?"
"I was afraid after I left it might have been. You
see, when the bargain was made with me the American
31


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
said that if I reached Havre at a certain time a thou-
sand francs extra would be paid to me, so I was anx-
ious to get along as quickly as I could. I told him it
was dangerous to navigate the Seine at night, but he
paid me well for attempting it. After the policeman
called to us at Denouval the man with the small box
became very much excited, and asked me to put him
ashore, which I refused to do. The tall man appeared
to be watching him, never letting him get far away.
When I heard the splash in the water I ran aft, and I
saw the tall man putting the box which the other had
held into his handbag, although I said nothing of it at
the time. We cruised back and forth about the spot
where the other man had gone overboard, but saw noth-
ing more of him. Then I came on to Meulan, intending
to give information about what I had seen. That is all I
know of the matter, sir."
"Was the man who had the jewels a Frenchman?"
"What jewels, sir?"
"The man with the small box."
"Oh, yes, sir; he was French."
"You have hinted that the foreigner threw him over-
board. What grounds have you for such a belief if you
did not see the struggle?"
"The night is very dark, sir, and I did not see what
happened. I was at the wheel in the forward part of the
launch, with my back turned to these two. I heard a
scream, then a splash. If the man had jumped over-
board as the other said he did, he would not have
screamed. Besides, as I told you, when I ran aft I saw


The Midnight Race Down the Seine
the foreigner put the little box in his handbag, which he
shut up quickly as if he did not wish me to notice."
"Very good, captain. If you have told the truth it
will go easy with you in the investigation that is to
follow."
I now turned the captain over to one of my men, and
ordered in the foreigner with his bag and bogus black
whiskers. Before questioning him I ordered him to open
the handbag, which he did with evident reluctance. It
was filled with false whiskers, false mustaches, and vari-
ous bottles, but on top of them all lay the jewel case. I
raised the lid and displayed that accursed necklace. I
looked up at the man, who stood there calmly enough,
saying nothing in spite of the overwhelming evidence
against him.
"Will you oblige me by removing your false beard?"
He did so at once, throwing it into the open bag. I
knew the moment I saw him that he was not the Ameri-
can, and thus my theory had broken down, in one very
important part at least. Informing him who I was, and
cautioning him to speak the truth, I asked how he came
in possession of the jewels.
"Am I under arrest?" he asked.
"But certainly," I replied.
"Of what am I accused?"
"You are accused, in the first place, of being in pos-
session of property which does not belong to you."
"I plead guilty to that. What in the second place?"
"In the second place, you may find yourself accused
of murder."
33


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"I am innocent of the second charge. The man
jumped overboard."
"If that is true, why did he scream as he went
over?"
"Because, too late to recover his balance, I seized
this box and held it."
"He was in rightful possession of the box; the owner
gave it to him."
"I admit that; I saw the owner give it to him."
"Then why should he jump overboard?"
"I do not know. He seemed to become panic-
stricken when the police at the last lock ordered us to
return. He implored the captain to put him ashore, and
from that moment I watched him keenly, expecting that
if we drew near to the land he would attempt to escape,
as the captain had refused to beach the launch. He re-
mained quiet for about half an hour, seated on a camp
chair by the rail, with his eyes turned toward the shore,
trying, as I imagined, to penetrate the darkness and
estimate the distance. Then suddenly he sprang up and
made his dash. I was prepared for this and instantly
caught the box from his hand. He gave a half-turn,
trying either to save himself or to retain the box; then
with a scream went down shoulders first into the water.
It all happened within a second after he leaped from his
chair."
"You admit yourself, then, indirectly at least, re-
sponsible for his drowning?"
"I see no reason to suppose that the man was
drowned. If able to swim he could easily have reached
34


The Midnight Race Down the Seine
the river bank. If unable to swim, why should he at-
tempt it encumbered by the box?"
"You believe he escaped, then?"
"I think so."
"It will be lucky for you should that prove to be the
case."
"Certainly."
"How did you come to be in the yacht at all?"
"I shall give you a full account of the affair, con-
cealing nothing. I am a private detective, with an office
in London. I was certain that some attempt would be
made, probably by the most expert criminals at large,
to rob the possessor of this necklace. I came over to
Paris, anticipating trouble, determined to keep an eye
upon the jewel case if this proved possible. If the jewels
were stolen the crime was bound to be one of the most
celebrated in legal annals. I was present during the sale,
and saw the buyer of the necklace. I followed the official
who went to the bank, and thus learned that the money
was behind the check. I then stopped outside and waited
for the buyer to appear. He held the case in his hand."
"In his pocket, you mean?" I interrupted.
"He had it in his hand when I saw him. Then the
man who afterwards jumped overboard approached him,
took the case without a word, held up his hand for a
cab, and when an open vehicle approached the curb he
stepped in, saying, 'The Madeleine.' I hailed a closed
cab, instructed the cabman to follow the first, disguising
myself with whiskers as near like those the man in
front wore as I had in my collection."

35 -


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Why did you do that?"
"As a detective you should know why I did it. I
wished as nearly as possible to resemble the man in
front, so that if necessity arose I could pretend that I
was the person commissioned to carry the jewel case.
As a matter of fact, the crisis arose when we came to the
end of our cab journey. The captain did not know
which was his true passenger, and so let us both re-
main aboard the launch. And now you have the whole
story."
"An extremely improbable one, sir. Even by your
own account you had no right to interfere in this busi-
ness at all."
"I quite agree with you there," he replied, with great
nonchalance, taking a card from his pocketbook, which
he handed to me.
"That is my London address; you may make in-
quiries, and you will find I am exactly what I represent
myself to be."
The first train for Paris left Meulan at eleven min-
utes past four in the morning. It was now a quarter
after two. I left the captain, crew, and launch in charge
of two of my men, with orders to proceed to Paris as
soon as it was daylight. I, supported by the third man,
waited at the station with our English prisoner, and
reached Paris at half past five in the morning.
The English prisoner, though severely interrogated
by the judge, stood by his story. Inquiry by the police
in London proved that what he said of himself was true.
His case, however, began to look very serious when two
36


The Midnight Race Down the Seine
of the men from the launch asserted that they had seen
him push the Frenchman overboard, and their statement
could not be shaken. All our energies were bent for the
next two weeks on trying to find something of the iden-
tity of the missing man, or to get any trace of the two
Americans. If the tall American were alive, it seemed
incredible that he should not have made application for
the valuable property he had lost. All attempts to trace
him by means of the check on the Credit-Lyonnais
proved futile. The bank pretended to give me every as-
sistance, but I sometimes doubt if it actually did so. It
had evidently been well paid for its services, and evinced
no impetuous desire to betray so good a customer.
We made inquiries, about every missing man in Paris,
but also without result.
The case had excited much attention throughout the
world, and doubtless was published in full in the Ameri-
can papers. The Englishman had been in custody three
weeks when the Chief of Police in Paris received the fol-
lowing letter:
Dear Sir: On my arrival in New York by the English steamer
Lucania, I was much amused to read in the papers accounts of the
exploits of detectives, French and English. I am sorry that only one
of them seems to be in prison; I think his French confrere ought to
be there also. I regret exceedingly, however, that there is the rumor
of the death by drowning of my friend Martin Dubois, of 375, Rue
aux Juifs, Rouen. If this is indeed the case, he has met his death
through the blunders of the police. Nevertheless, I wish you would
communicate with his family at the address I have given, and assure
them that I will make arrangements for their future support.
I beg to inform you that I am a manufacturer of imitation dia-

37.


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
monds, and through extensive advertising succeeded in accumulat-
ing a fortune of many millions. I was in Europe when the necklace
was found, and had in my possession over a thousand imitation
diamonds of my own manufacture. It occurred to me that here
was the opportunity of the most magnificent advertisement in the
world. I saw the necklace, received its measurements, and also
obtained photographs of it taken by the French Government. Then
I set my expert friend Martin Dubois at work, and with the artificial
stones I gave him he made an imitation necklace so closely resembling
the original that you apparently do not know it is the unreal you
have in your possession. I did not fear the villainy of the crooks as
much as the blundering of the police, who would have protected me
with brass-band vehemence if I could not elude them. I knew that
the detectives would overlook the obvious, but would at once follow
a clew if I provided one for them. Consequently, I laid my plans,
just as you have discovered, and got Martin Dubois up from Rouen
to carry the case I gave him down to Havre. I had had another
box prepared and wrapped in brown paper, with my address in New
York written thereon. The moment I emerged from the auction
room, while my friend the cowboy was holding up the audience,
I turned my face to the door, took out the genuine diamonds from
the case and slipped it into the box I had prepared for mailing. Into
the genuine case I put the bogus diamonds. After handing the
box to Dubois, I turned down a side street, and then into another
whose name I do not know, and there in a shop with sealing wax and
string did up the real diamonds for posting. I labeled the package
"Books," went to the nearest post office, paid letter postage, and
handed it over unregistered, as if it were of no particular value.
After this I went to my rooms in the Grand Hotel, where I had been
staying under my own name for more than a month. Next morning
I took train for London, and the day after sailed from Liverpool on
the Lucania. I arrived before the Gascogne, which sailed from
Havre on Saturday, met my box at the Customshouse, paid duty, and
it now reposes in my safe. I intend to construct an imitation necklace
which will be so like the genuine one that nobody can tell the two
38


The Midnight Race Down the Seine
apart; then I shall come to Europe and exhibit the pair, for the
publication of the truth of this matter will give me the greatest
advertisement that ever was.
Yours truly,
John P. Hazard.
I at once communicated with Rouen and found Mar-
tin Dubois alive and well. His first words were:
"I swear I did not steal the jewels."
He had swum ashore, tramped to Rouen, and kept
quiet in great fear while I was fruitlessly searching
Paris for him.
It took Mr. Hazard longer to make his imitation
necklace than he supposed, and several years later he
booked his passage with the two necklaces on the ill-
fated steamer Bourgogne, and now rests beside them at
the bottom of the Atlantic.
As the English poet says:
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
39


CHAPTER IV
THE ODDITIES OF THE ENGLISH
HE events I have just related led to my dis-
missal by the French Government. It was
not because I had arrested an innocent
man; I had done that dozens of times be-
fore, with nothing said about it. It was
not because I had followed a wrong clew, or because I
had failed to solve the mystery of the five hundred dia-
monds. Every detective follows a wrong clew now and
then, and every detective fails more often than he cares
to admit. No. All these things would not have shaken
my position, but the newspapers were so fortunate as
to find something humorous in the case, and for weeks
Paris rang with laughter over my exploits and my de-
feat. The fact that the chief French detective had
placed the most celebrated English detective into prison,
and that each of them were busily sleuth-hounding a
bogus clew, deliberately flung across their path by an
amateur, roused all France to great hilarity. The Gov-
ernment was furious. The Englishman was released
and I was dismissed. Since the year 1893 I have been
a resident of London.
When a man is, as one might say, the guest of a
country, it does not become him to criticise that country.

40


The Oddities of the English
I have studied this strange people with interest, and
often with astonishment, and if I now set down some
of the differences between the English and the French,
I trust that no note of criticism of the former will ap-
pear, even when my sympathies are entirely with the
latter. These differences have sunk deeply into my mind,
because, during the first years of my stay in London,
my lack of understanding them was often a cause of my
own failure when I thought I had success in hand.
Many a time did I come to the verge of starvation in
Soho, through not appreciating the peculiar trend of
mind which causes an Englishman to do inexplicable
things—that is, of course, from my Gallic standpoint.
For instance, an arrested man is presumed to be inno-
cent until he is proved guilty. In England, if a mur-
derer is caught red-handed over his victim, he is held
guiltless until the judge sentences him. In France we
make no such foolish assumption, and although I admit
that innocent men have sometimes been punished, my
experience enables me to state very emphatically that this
happens not nearly so often as the public imagines. In
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred an innocent man
can at once prove his innocence without the least diffi-
culty. I hold it is his duty toward the state to run the
very slight risk of unjust imprisonment in order that
obstacles may not be thrown in the way of the conviction
of real criminals. But it is impossible to persuade an
Englishman of this. Mon Dieu! I have tried it often
enough.
Never shall I forget the bitterness of my disappoint-

4


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
ment when I captured Felini, the Italian anarchist, in
connection with the Greenwich Park murder. At this
time—it gives me no shame to confess it—I was myself
living in Soho, in a state of extreme poverty. Having
been employed so long by the French Government, I had
formed the absurd idea that the future depended on my
getting, not exactly a similar connection with Scotland
Yard, but at least a subordinate position on the police
force which would enable me to prove my capabilities,
and lead to promotion. I had no knowledge, at that time,
of the immense income which awaited me entirely out-
side the Government circle. Whether it is contempt for
the foreigner, as has often been stated, or that native
stolidity which spells complacency, the British official of
any class rarely thinks it worth his while to discover the
real cause of things in France, or Germany, or Russia,
but plods heavily on from one mistake to another. Take,
for example, those periodical outbursts of hatred against
England which appear in the continental press. They
create a dangerous international situation, and more than
once have brought Britain to the verge of a serious war.
Britain sternly spends millions in defense and prepara-
tion, whereas, if she would place in my hand half a
million pounds, I would guarantee to cause Britannia
to be proclaimed an angel with white wings in every
European country.
When I attempted to arrive at some connection with
Scotland Yard, I was invariably asked for my creden-
tials. When I proclaimed that I had been chief detec-
tive to the Republic of France, I could see that this an-
42


The Oddities of the English
nouncement made a serious impression, but when I
added that the Government of France had dismissed me
without credentials, recommendation, or pension, official
sympathy with officialism at once turned the tables
against me. And here I may be pardoned for pointing
out another portentous dissimilarity between the two
lands which I think is not at all to the credit of my
countrymen.
I was summarily dismissed. You may say it was
because I failed, and it is true that in the case of the -
queen's necklace I had undoubtedly failed, but, on the
other hand, I had followed unerringly the clew which
lay in my path, and although the conclusion was not in
accordance with the facts, it was in accordance with
logic. No, I was not dismissed because I failed. I had
failed on various occasions before, as might happen to
any man in any profession. I was dismissed because I
made France for the moment the laughingstock of Eu-
rope and America. France dismissed me because France
had been laughed at. No Frenchman can endure the
turning of a joke against him, but the Englishman does
not appear to care in the least. So far as failure is con-
cerned, never had any man failed so egregiously as
I did with Felini, a slippery criminal who possessed all
the bravery of a Frenchman and all the subtlety of an
Italian. Three times he was in my hands—twice in
Paris, once in Marseilles—and each time he escaped me;
yet I was not dismissed.
When I say that Signor Felini was as brave as a
Frenchman, perhaps I do him a little more than justice.


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
He was desperately afraid of one man, and that man
was myself. Our last interview in France he is not likely
• to forget, and although he eluded me, he took good care
to get into England as fast as train and boat could carry
him, and never again, while I was at the head of the
French detective force, did he set foot on French soil.
He was an educated villain, a graduate of the University
of Turin, who spoke Spanish, French, and English as
well as his own language, and this education made him
all the more dangerous when he turned his talents to
crime.
Now, I knew Felini's handiwork, either in murder
or in housebreaking, as well as I know my own signa-
ture on a piece of white paper, and as soon as I saw the
body of the murdered man in Greenwich Park I was
certain Felini was the murderer. The English authori-
ties at that time looked upon me with a tolerant, good-
natured contempt.
Inspector Standish assumed the manner of a man
placing at my disposal plenty of rope with which I might
entangle myself. He appeared to think me excitable,
and used soothing expressions as if I were a fractious
child to be calmed, rather than a sane equal to be rea-
soned with. On many occasions I had the facts at my
finger's ends, while he remained in a state of most com-
placent ignorance, and though this attitude of lowering
himself to deal gently with one whom he evidently looked
upon as an irresponsible lunatic was most exasperating,
I nevertheless claim great credit for having kept my
temper with him. However, it turned out to be impos-

44


The Oddities of the English
sible for me to overcome his insular prejudice. He al-
ways supposed me to be a frivolous, volatile person, and
so I was unable to prove myself of any value to him in
his arduous duties.
The Felini instance was my last endeavor to win his
favor. Inspector Standish appeared in his most amiable
mood when I was admitted to his presence, and this in
spite of the fact that all London was ringing with the
Greenwich Park tragedy, while the police possessed not
the faintest idea regarding the crime or its perpetrator.
I judged from Inspector Standish's benevolent smile
that I was somewhat excited when I spoke to him, and
perhaps used many gestures which seemed superfluous
to a large man whom I should describe as immovable,
and who spoke slowly, with no motion of his hand,
as if his utterances were the' condensed wisdom of the
ages.
"Inspector Standish," I cried, "is it within your
power to arrest a man on suspicion?"
"Of course it is," he replied; "but we must harbor
the suspicion before we make the arrest."
"Have confidence in me," I exclaimed. "The man
who committed the Greenwich Park murder is an Italian
named Felini."
I gave the address of the exact room in which he
was to be found, with cautions regarding the elusive
nature of this individual. I said that he had been three
times in my custody, and those three times he had
slipped through my fingers. I have since thought that
Inspector Standish did not credit a word I had spoken.
45


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"What is your proof against this Italian? " asked the
inspector slowly.
"The proof is on the body of the murdered man;
but, nevertheless, if you suddenly confront Felini with
me without giving him any hint of whom he is
going to meet, you shall have the evidence from his
own lips before he recovers from his surprise and
fright."
Something of my confidence must have impressed
the official, for the order of arrest was made. Now, dur-
ing the absence of the constable sent to bring in Felini,
I explained to the inspector fully the details of my plan.
Practically he did not listen to me, for his head was
bent over a writing pad on which I thought he was tak-
ing down my remarks, but when I had finished he went
on writing as before, so I saw I had flattered myself un-
necessarily. More than two hours passed before the
constable returned, bringing with him the trembling
Italian. I swung round in front of him, and cried, in
a menacing voice:
"Felini! Regard me! You know Valmont too well
to trifle with him! What have you to say of the mur-
der in Greenwich Park?"
I give you my word that the Italian collapsed, and
would have fallen to the floor in a heap had not the con-
stables upheld him with hands under each arm. His
face became of a pasty whiteness, and he began to stam-
mer his confession, when this incredible thing happened,
which could not be believed in France. Inspector Stan-
dish held up his finger.


The Oddities of the English
"One moment," he cautioned solemnly; "remember
that whatever you say will be used against you!"
The quick, beady black eyes of the Italian shot from
Standish to me, and from me to Standish. In an instant
his alert mind grasped the situation. Metaphorically I
had been waved aside. I was not there in any official ca-
pacity, and he saw in a moment with what an opaque
intellect he had to deal. The Italian closed his mouth
like a steel trap, and refused to utter a word. Shortly
after he was liberated, as there was no evidence against
him. When at last complete proof was in the tardy
hands of the British authorities, the agile Felini was safe
in the Apennine Mountains, and to-day is serving a life
sentence in Italy for the assassination of a senator whose
name I have forgotten.
Is it any wonder that I threw up my hands in despair
at finding myself among such a people? But this was
in the early days, and now that I have greater expe-
rience of the English, many of my first opinions have
been modified.
I mention all this to explain why, in a private capac-
ity, I often did what no English official would dare
to do. A people who will send a policeman, without even
a pistol to protect him, to arrest a desperate criminal in
the most dangerous quarter of London, cannot be com-
prehended by any native of France, Italy, Spain, or Ger-
many. When I began to succeed as a private detective
in London, and had accumulated money enough for my
project, I determined not to be hampered by this unex-
plainable softness of the English toward an accused
47


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
person. I therefore reconstructed my flat, and placed
in the center of it a dark room strong as any Bastile cell.
It was twelve feet square, and contained no furniture
except a number of shelves, a lavatory in one corner,
and a pallet on the floor. It was ventilated by two flues
from the center of the. ceiling, in one of which operated
an electric fan, which, when the room was occupied,
sent the foul air up that flue, and drew down fresh air
through the other. The entrance to this cell opened out
from my bedroom, and the most minute inspection would
have failed to reveal the door, which was of massive
steel, and was opened and shut by electric buttons that
were partially concealed by the head of my bed. Even
if they had been discovered, they would have revealed
nothing, because the first turn of the button lit the elec-
tric light at the head of my bed; the second turn put it
out; and this would happen as often as the button was
turned to the right. But turn it three times slowly to
the left, and the steel door opened. Its juncture was
completely concealed by paneling. I have brought many
a scoundrel to reason within the impregnable walls of
that small room.
Those who know the building regulations of London
will wonder how it is possible for me to delude the Gov-
ernment inspector during the erection of this section of
the Bastile in the midst of the modern metropolis. It
was the simplest thing in the world. Liberty of the
subject is the first great rule with the English people,
and thus many a criminal is allowed to escape. Here
was I, laying plans for the contravening of this first great

48


The Oddities of the English
rule, and to do so I took advantage of the second great
rule of the English people, which is, that property is
sacred. I told the building authorities I was a rich man
with a great distrust of banks, and I wished to build in
my flat a safe or strong room in which to deposit my
valuables. I built then such a room as may be found in
every bank, and many private premises of the City, and
a tenant might have lived in my flat for a year and never
suspect the existence of this prison. A railway engine
might have screeched its whistle within it, and not a
sound would have penetrated the apartment that sur-
rounded it unless the door leading to it had been left
open.
But besides M. Eugene Valmont, dressed in elegant
attire, as if he were still a boulevardier of Paris, occupier
of the top floor in the Imperial Flats, there was another
Frenchman in London to whom I must introduce you,
namely, Prof. Paul Ducharme, who occupied a squalid
back room in the cheapest and most undesirable quar-
ter of Soho. Valmont flatters himself he is not yet
middle-aged, but poor Ducharme does not need his
sparse gray beard to proclaim his advancing years. Val-
mont vaunts an air of prosperity; Ducharme wears the
shabby habiliments and the shoulder stoop of hopeless
poverty. He shuffles cringingly along the street, a com-
patriot not to be proud of. There are so many French-
men anxious to give lessons in their language, that
"Inerely a small living is to be picked up by any one of
them. You will never see the spruce Valmont walking
alongside the dejected Ducharme.
49


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Ah!" you exclaim, "Valmont in his prosperity
has forgotten those less fortunate of his nationality."
Pardon, my friends, it is not so. Behold, I proclaim
to you, the exquisite Valmont and the threadbare Du-
charme are one and the same person. That is why they
do not promenade together. And, indeed, it requires no
great histrionic art on my part to act the role of the
miserable Ducharme, for when I first came to London
I warded off starvation in this wretched room, and my
hand it was that nailed to the door the painted sign,
"Professor Paul Ducharme, Teacher of the French
Language." I never gave up the room, even when I
became prosperous and moved to Imperial Flats, with
its concealed chamber of horrors unknown to British
authority. I did not give up the Soho chamber princi-
pally for this reason: Paul Ducharme, if the truth were
known about him, would have been regarded as a dan-
gerous character; yet this was a character sometimes
necessary for me to assume. He was a member of the
very inner circle of the International, an anarchist of the
anarchists. This malign organization has its real head-
quarters in London, and we who were officials connected
with the secret service of the Continent have more than
once cursed the complacency of the British Government
which allows such a nest of vipers to exist practically
unmolested. I confess that before I "came to know the
English people as well as I do now, I thought that this
complacency was due to utter selfishness, because the
anarchists never commit an outrage in England. Eng-
land is the one spot on the map of Europe where an


The Oddities of the English
anarchist cannot be laid by the heels unless there is
evidence against him that will stand the test of open
court. Anarchists take advantage of this fact, and plots
are hatched in London which are executed in Paris,
Berlin, Petersburg, or Madrid. I know now that this
leniency on the part of the British Government does not
arise from craft, but from their unexplainable devotion
to their shibboleth—" The liberty of the subject." Time
and again France has demanded the extradition of an
anarchist, always to be met with the question:
"Where is your proof?"
I know many instances where our certainty was ab-
solute, and also cases where we possessed legal proof
as well, but legal proof which, for one reason or an-
other, we dared not use in public; yet all this had no
effect on the British authorities. They would never give
up even the vilest criminal except on publicly attested
legal evidence, and not even then if the crime were
political.
During my term of office under the French Govern-
ment, no part of my duties caused me more anxiety than
that which pertained to the political secret societies. Of
course, with a large portion of the Secret Service fund
at my disposal, I was able to buy expert assistance, and
even to get information from anarchists themselves.
This latter device, however, was always more or less
unreliable. I have never yet met an anarchist I could
believe on oath, and when one of them offered to sell
exclusive information to the police, we rarely knew
whether he was merely trying to get a few francs to keep
51


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
himself from starving, or whether he was giving us
false particulars which would lead us into a trap. I have
always regarded our dealings with nihilists, anarchists,
or other secret associations for the perpetrating of mur-
der as the most dangerous service a detective is called
upon to perform. Yet it is absolutely necessary that the
authorities should know what is going on in these secret
conclaves. There are three methods of getting this
intelligence. First, periodical raids upon the suspected,
accompanied by confiscation and search of all papers
found. This method is much in favor with the Russian
police. I have always regarded it as largely futile: first,
because the anarchists are not such fools, speaking gen-
erally, as to commit their purposes to writing; and, sec-
ond, because it leads to reprisal. Each raid is usually
followed by a fresh outbreak of activity on the part of
those left free. The second method is to bribe an an-
archist to betray his comrades. I have never found any
difficulty in getting these gentry to accept money. They
are eternally in need, but I usually find the information
they give in return to be either unimportant or inaccu-
rate. There remains, then, the third method, which is
to place a spy among them. The spy battalion is the for-
lorn hope of the detective service. In one year I lost
three men on anarchist duty, among the victims being
my most valuable helper, Henri Brisson. Poor Brisson's
fate was an example of how a man may follow a peril-
ous occupation for months with safety, and then by a
slight mistake bring disaster on himself.
At the last gathering Brisson attended he received


The Oddities of the English
news of such immediate and fateful import that, on
emerging from the cellar where the gathering was held,
he made directly for my residence instead of going to his
own squalid room in the Rue Falgarie. My concierge
said that he arrived shortly after one o'clock in the
morning, and it would seem that at this hour he could
easily have made himself acquainted with the fact that
he was followed. Still, as there was on his track that
human panther, Felini, it is not strange poor Brisson
failed to elude him.
Arriving at the tall building in which my flat was
then situated, Brisson rang the bell, and the concierge,
as usual, in that strange state of semisomnolence which
envelops concierges during the night, pulled the looped
wire at the head of his bed, and unbolted the door. Bris-
son assuredly closed the huge door behind him, and yet,
the moment before he did so, Felini must have slipped
in unnoticed to the stone-paved courtyard. If Brisson
had not spoken and announced himself, the concierge
would have been wide-awake in an instant. If he had
given a name unknown to the concierge, the same re-
sult would have ensued. As it was, he cried aloud,
"Brisson!" whereupon the concierge of the famous
chief of the French detective staff, Valmont, muttered,
"Bon!" and was instantly asleep again.
Now Felini had known Brisson well, but it was un-
der the name of Revensky, and as an exiled Russian.
Brisson had spent all his early years in Russia, and
spoke the language like a native. The moment Brisson
had uttered his true name he had pronounced his own


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
death warrant. Felini followed him up to the first land-
ing—my rooms were on the second floor—and there
placed his sign manual on the unfortunate man, which
was the swift downward stroke of a long, narrow,
sharp poniard, entering the body below the shoulders,
and piercing the heart. The advantage presented by
this terrible blow is that the victim sinks instantly in
a heap at the feet of his slayer, without uttering a moan.
The wound left is a scarcely perceptible blue mark
which rarely even bleeds. It was this mark I saw on
the body of the Maire of Marseilles, and afterwards on
one other in Paris besides poor Brisson. It was the
mark found on the man in Greenwich Park, always just
below the left shoulder blade, struck from behind. Fe-
lini's comrades claim that there was this nobility in his
action, namely, he allowed the traitor to prove himself
before he struck the blow. I should be sorry to take
away this poor shred of credit from Felini's character,
but the reason he followed Brisson into the courtyard
was to give himself time to escape. He knew perfectly
the ways of the concierge. He knew that the body
would lie there until the morning, as it actually did, and
that this would give him hours in which to effect his
retreat. And this was the man whom British law
warned not to incriminate himself! What a people!
What a people!
After Brisson's tragic death, I resolved to set no
more valuable men on the track of the anarchists, but
to place upon myself the task in my moments of relaxa-
tion. I became very much interested in the underground
54


The Oddities of the English
workings of the International. I joined the organization
under the name of Paul Ducharme, a professor of ad-
vanced opinions, who because of them had been dis-
missed from his situation in Nantes. As a matter of fact,
there had been such a Paul Ducharme, who had been so
dismissed, but he had drowned himself in the Loire, at
Orleans, as the records show. I adopted the precaution
of getting a photograph of this foolish old man from
the police at Nantes, and made myself up to resemble
him. It says much for my disguise that I was recog-
nized as the professor by a delegate from Nantes, at
the annual convention held in Paris, which I attended,
and although we conversed for some time together he
never suspected that I was not the professor, whose fate
was known to no one but the police of Orleans. I gained
much credit among my comrades because of this encoun-
ter, which, during its first few moments, filled me with
dismay, for the delegate from Nantes held me up as an
example of a man well off, who had deliberately sacri-
ficed his worldly position for the sake of principle.
Shortly after this I was chosen delegate to carry a mes-
sage to our comrades in London, and this delicate under-
taking passed off without mishap.
It was perhaps natural, then, that when I came to
London after my dismissal by the French Government,
I should assume the name and appearance of Paul Du-
charme, and adopt the profession of French teacher.
This profession gave me great advantages. I could be
absent from my rooms for hours at a time without at-
tracting the least attention, because a teacher goes
55


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
wherever there are pupils. If any of my anarchist
comrades saw me emerging shabbily from the grand
Imperial Flats where Valmont lived, he greeted me
affably, thinking I was coming from a pupil.
The sumptuous flat was therefore the office in which
I received my rich clients, while the squalid room in
Soho was often the workshop in which the tasks in-
trusted to me were brought to completion.
56


CHAPTER V

THE SIAMESE TWIN OF A BOMB THROWER
NOW come to very modern days indeed,
when I spent much time with the emis-
saries of the International.
It will be remembered that the King of
England made a round of visits to Eu-
ropean capitals, the far-reaching results of which in the
interest of peace we perhaps do not yet fully understand
and appreciate. His visit to Paris was the beginning
of the present entente cordiale, and I betray no confi-
dence when I say that this brief official call at the French
capital was the occasion of great anxiety to the Govern-
ment of my own country and also of that in which I was
domiciled. Anarchists are against all governments, and
would like to see each one destroyed, not even excepting
that of Great Britain.
My task in connection with the visit of King Ed-
ward to Paris was entirely unofficial. A nobleman, for
whom on a previous occasion I had been so happy as
to solve a little mystery which troubled him, compli-
mented me by calling at my flat about two weeks before
the king's entry into the French capital. I know I shall
be pardoned if I fail to mention this nobleman's name.
I gathered that the intended visit of the king met with
5 57


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
his disapproval. He asked if I knew anything, or could
discover anything, of the purposes animating the an-
archist clubs of Paris, and their attitude toward the
royal function, which was now the chief topic in the
newspapers. I replied that within four days I would be
able to submit to him a complete report on the subject.
He bowed coldly and withdrew. On the evening of
the fourth day I permitted myself the happiness of wait-
ing upon his lordship at his West End London mansion.
"I have the honor to report to your lordship," I
began, "that the anarchists of Paris are somewhat di-
vided in their opinions regarding his Majesty's forth-
coming progress through that city. A minority, con-
temptible in point of number, but important so far as
the extremity of their opinions are concerned, has been
trying"
"Excuse me," interrupted the nobleman, with some
severity of tone; " are they going to attempt to injure the
king or not?"
"They are not, your lordship," I replied, with what,
I trust, is my usual urbanity of manner, despite his curt
interpolation. "His most gracious Majesty will suffer
no molestation, and their reason for quiescence"
"Their reasons do not interest me," put in his lord-
ship gruffly. "You are sure of what you say?"
"Perfectly sure, your lordship."
"No precautions need be taken?"
"None in the least, your lordship."
"Very well," concluded the nobleman shortly. "If
you tell my secretary in the next room as you go out
58


The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower
how much I owe you, he will hand you a check," and
with that I was dismissed.
I may say that, mixing as I do with the highest in
two lands, and meeting invariably such courtesy as I
myself am always eager to bestow, a feeling almost of
resentment arose at this cavalier treatment. However,
I merely bowed somewhat ceremoniously in silence, and
availed myself of the opportunity in the next room to
double my bill, which was paid without demur.
Now, if this nobleman had but listened, he would
have heard much that might interest an ordinary man,
although I must say that during my three conversations
with him his mind seemed closed to all outward impres-
sions save and except the grandeur of his line, which
he traced back unblemished into the northern part of my
own country.
The king's visit had come as a surprise to the an-
archists, and they did not quite know what to do about
it. The Paris Reds were rather in favor of a demonstra-
tion, while London bade them, in God's name, to hold
their hands, for, as they pointed out, England is the
only refuge in which an anarchist is safe until some
particular crime can be imputed to him, and, what is
more, proven up to the hilt.
It will be remembered that the visit of the king to
Paris passed off without incident, as did the return
visit of the president to London. On the surface all
was peace and good will, but under the surface seethed
plot and counterplot, and behind the scenes two great
governments were extremely anxious, and high officials
59


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
in the Secret Service spent sleepless nights. As no " un-
toward incident" had happened, the vigilance of the
authorities on both sides of the Channel relaxed at the
very moment when, if they had known their adversaries,
it should have been redoubled. Always beware of the
anarchist when he has been good: look out for the
reaction. It annoys him to be compelled to remain quiet
when there is a grand opportunity for strutting across
the world's stage, and when he misses the psychological
moment he is apt to turn " nasty," as the English say.
When it first became known that there was to be a
royal procession through the streets of Paris, a few
fanatical hot-heads, both in that city and in London,
wished to take action, but they were overruled by the
saner members of the organization. It must not be sup-
posed that anarchists are a band of lunatics. There are
able brains among them, and these born leaders as natu-
rally assume control in the underground world of an-
archy as would have been the case if they had devoted
their talents to affairs in ordinary life. They were men
whose minds, at one period, had taken the wrong turn-
ing. These people, although they calmed the frenzy of
the extremists, nevertheless regarded the possible rap-
prochement between England and France with grave
apprehension. If France and England became as
friendly as France and Russia, might not the refuge
which England had given to anarchy become a thing of
the past? I may say here that my own weight as an
anarchist while attending these meetings in disguise
under the name of Paul Ducharme was invariably
60


The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower
thrown in to help the cause of moderation. My role,
of course, was not to talk too much; not to make my-
self prominent; yet in such a gathering a man cannot
remain wholly a spectator. Care for my own safety led
me to be as inconspicuous as possible, for members of
communities banded together against the laws of the
land in which they live are extremely suspicious of one
another, and an inadvertent word may cause disaster
to the person speaking it.
Perhaps it was this conservatism on my part that
caused my advice to be sought after by the inner circle,
what you might term the governing body of the anarch-
ists; for, strange as it may appear, this organization,
sworn to put down all law and order, was itself most
rigidly governed, with a Russian prince elected as its
chairman, a man of striking ability, who, nevertheless,
I believe, owed his election more to the fact that he
was a nobleman than to the recognition of his intrinsic
worth. And another point which interested me much
was that this prince ruled his obstreperous subjects after
the fashion of Russian despotism, rather than according
to the liberal ideas of the country in which he was dom-
iciled. I have known him more than once ruthlessly
overturn the action of the majority, stamp his foot, smite
his huge fist on the table, and declare so and so should
not be done, no matter what the vote was. And the
thing was not done, either.
At the more recent period of which I speak, the
chairmanship of the London anarchists was held by a
weak, vacillating man, and the mob had got somewhat
61


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
out of hand. In the crisis that confronted us I yearned
for the firm fist and dominant boot of the uncompro-
mising Russian. I spoke only once during this time, and
assured my listeners that they had nothing to fear from
the coming friendship of the two nations. I said the
Englishman was so wedded to his grotesque ideas re-
garding the liberty of the subject; he so worshiped ab-
solute legal evidence, that we would never find our
comrades disappear mysteriously from England as had
been the case in continental countries.
Although restless during the exchange of visits be-
tween king and president, I believe I could have car-
ried the English phalanx with me, if the international
courtesies had ended there. But after it was announced
that members of the British Parliament were to meet the
members of the French Legislature, the Paris circle be-
came alarmed, and when that conference did not end
the entente, but merely paved the way for a meeting of
business men belonging to the two countries in Paris,
the French anarchists sent a delegate over to us, who
made a wild speech orie night, waving continually the
red flag. This roused all our own malcontents to a
frenzy. The French speaker practically charged the
English contingent with cowardice; said that as they
were safe from molestation, they felt no sympathy for
their comrades in Paris, at any time liable to summary
arrest and the torture of the secret cross-examination.
This Anglo-French love feast must be wafted to the
heavens in a halo of dynamite. The Paris anarchists
were determined, and although they wished the cooper-
62


The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower
ation of their London brethren, yet, if the speaker did
not bring back with him assurance of such cooperation,
Paris would act on its own initiative.
The Russian despot would have made short work of
this blood-blinded rhetoric, but, alas! he was absent, and
an overwhelming vote in favor of force was carried and
accepted by the trembling chairman. My French con-
frere took back with him to Paris the unanimous con-
sent of the English comrades to whom he had appealed.
All that was asked of the English contingent was that
it should arrange for the escape and safe-keeping of the
assassin who flung the bomb into the midst of the Eng-
lish visitors; and after the oratorical madman had de-
parted, I, to my horror, was chosen to arrange for the
safe transport and future custody of the bomb thrower.
It is not etiquette in anarchist circles for any member
to decline whatever task is given him by the vote of
his comrades. He knows the alternative, which is sui-
cide. If he declines the task and still remains upon
earth, the dilemma is solved for him, as the Italian Felini
solved it through the back of my unfortunate helper
Brisson. I therefore accepted the unwelcome office in
silence, and received from the treasurer the money nec-
essary for carrying out the same.
I realized for the first time since joining the an-
archist association years before that I was in genuine
danger. A single false step, a single inadvertent word,
might close the career of Eugene Valmont, and at the
same moment terminate the existence of the quiet, in-
offensive Paul Ducharme, teacher of the French lan-
63


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
guage. I knew perfectly well I should be followed. The
moment I received the money the French delegate asked
when they were to expect me in Paris. He wished to
know so that all the resources of their organization
might be placed at my disposal. I replied calmly enough
that I could not state definitely on what day I should
leave England. There was plenty of time, as the busi-
ness men's representatives from London would not
reach Paris for another two weeks. I was well known
to the majority of the Paris organization, and would
present myself before them on the first night of my
arrival. The Paris delegate exhibited all the energy of
a new recruit, and he seemed dissatisfied with my vague-
ness, but I went on without heeding his displeasure. He
was not personally known to me, nor I to him, but, if I
may say so, Paul Ducharme was well thought of by all
the rest of those present.
I had learned a great lesson during the episode of
the queen's necklace, which resulted in my dismissal
by the French Government. I had learned that if you
expect pursuit it is always well to leave a clew for the
pursuer to follow. Therefore I continued in a low con-
versational tone:
"I shall want the whole of to-morrow for myself: I
must notify my pupils of my absence. Even if my pupils
leave me it will not so much matter. I can probably
get others. But what does matter is my secretarial work
with Monsieur Valmont of the Imperial Flats. I am
just finishing for him the translation of a volume from
French into English, and to-morrow I can complete the
64


The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower
work, and get his permission to leave for a fortnight.
This man, who is a compatriot of my own, has given
me employment ever since I came to London. From
him I have received the bulk of my income, and if it had
not been for his patronage, I do not know what I should
have done. I not only have no desire to offend him,
but I wish the secretarial work to continue when I re-
turn to London."
There was a murmur of approval at this. It was
generally recognized that a man's living should not be
interfered with, if possible. Anarchists are not poverty-
stricken individuals, as most people think, for many
of them hold excellent situations, some occupying posi-
tions of great trust, which is rarely betrayed.
It is recognized that a man's duty, not only to him-
self, but to the organization, is to make all the money
he can, and thus not be liable to fall back on the relief
fund. This frank admission of my dependence on Val-
mont made it all the more impossible that anyone there
listening should suspect that it was Valmont himself
who was addressing the conclave.
"You will then take the night train to-morrow for
Paris?" persisted the inquisitive French delegate.
"Yes and no. I shall take the night train, and it
shall be for Paris, but not from Charing Cross, Victoria,
or Waterloo. I shall travel on the 8.30 Continental ex-
press from Liverpool Street to Harwich, cross to the
Hook of Holland, and from there make my way to Paris
through Holland and Belgium. I wish to investigate
that route as a possible path for our comrade to escape.
65


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
After the blow is struck, Calais, Boulogne, Dieppe, and
Havre will be closely watched. I shall perhaps bring
him to London by way of Antwerp and the Hook.
These amiable disclosures were so fully in keeping
with Paul Ducharme's reputation for candor and cau-
tion, that I saw they made an excellent impression on
my audience, and here the chairman intervened, putting
an end to further cross-examination by saying they all
had the utmost confidence in the judgment of Monsieur
Paul Ducharme, and the Paris delegate might advise
his friends to be on the lookout for the London repre-
sentative within the next three or four days.
I left the meeting and went directly to my room
in Soho, without even taking the trouble to observe
whether I was watched or not. There I stayed all night,
and in the morning quitted Soho as Ducharme, with
gray beard and bowed shoulders, walked west to the
Imperial Flats, took the lift to the top, and, seeing the
corridor was clear, let myself into my own flat. I
departed from my flat promptly at six o'clock, again as
Paul Ducharme, carrying this time a bundle done up in
brown paper under my arm, and proceeded directly to
my room in Soho. Later I took a bus, still carrying
my brown paper parcel, and reached Liverpool Street
in ample time for the Continental train. By a little pri-
vate arrangement with the guard, I secured a compart-
ment for myself, although, up to the moment the train
left the station, I could not be sure but that I might be
compelled to take the trip to the Hook of Holland after
all. If anyone had insisted on coming into my com-
66


The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower
partment, I should have crossed the North Sea that
night. I knew I should be followed from Soho to the
station, and that probably the spy would go as far as
Harwich, and see me on the boat. It was doubtful if
he would cross. I had chosen this route for the reason
that we have no organization in Holland: the nearest
circle is in Brussels, and if there had been time, the
Brussels circle would have been warned to keep an eye
on me. There was, however, no time for a letter, and
anarchists never use the telegraph, especially so far as
the Continent is concerned, unless in cases of the great-
est emergency. If they telegraphed my description to
Brussels, the chances were it would not be an anarchist
who watched my landing, but a member of the Belgian
police force.
The 8.30 Continental express does not stop between
Liverpool Street and Parkeston Quay, which it is timed
to reach three minutes before ten. This gave me an
hour and a half in which to change my apparel. The
garments of the poor old professor I rolled up into a
ball, one by one, and flung out through the open window,
far into the marsh past which we were flying in a pitch-
dark night. Coat, trousers, and waistcoat rested in sep-
arate swamps at least ten miles apart. Gray whiskers
and gray wig I tore into little pieces, and dropped the
bits out of the open window.
I had taken the precaution to secure a compartment
in the front of the train, and when it came to rest at
Parkeston Quay Station, the crowd, eager for the
steamer, rushed past me, and I stepped out into the midst
67


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
of it, a dapper, well-dressed young man, with black
beard and mustaches, my own closely cropped black hair
covered by a new bowler hat. Anyone looking for Paul
Ducharme would have paid small attention to me, and
to any friend of Valmont's I was equally unrecognizable.
I strolled in leisurely manner to the Great Eastern
Hotel on the Quay, and asked the clerk if a portmanteau
addressed to Mr. John Wilkins had arrived that day
from London. He said "Yes," whereupon I secured a
room for the night, as the last train had already left for
the metropolis.
Next morning, Mr. John Wilkins, accompanied by a
brand-new and rather expensive portmanteau, took the
9.57 train for Liverpool Street, where he arrived at half
past ten, stepped into a cab, and drove to the Savoy Res-
taurant, lunching there with the portmanteau deposited
in the cloakroom. When John Wilkins had finished
an excellent lunch in a leisurely manner at the Cafe
Parisien of the Savoy, and had paid his bill, he did not
go out into the Strand over the rubber-paved court by
which he had entered, but went through the hotel and
down the stairs, and so out into the thoroughfare facing
the Embankment. Then turning to his right he reached
the Embankment entrance of the Hotel Cecil. This
leads into a long dark corridor, at the end of which
the lift may be rung for. It does not come lower than
the floor above unless specially summoned. In this dark
corridor, which was empty, John Wilkins took off the
black beard and mustache, hid it in the inside pocket of
his coat, and there went up into the lift a few moments
68


The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Thrower
later to the office floor, I, Eugene Valmont, myself for
the first time in several days.
Even then I did not take a cab to my flat, but passed
under the arched Strand front of the Cecil in a cab,
bound for the residence of that nobleman who had
formerly engaged me to see after the safety of the king.
You will say that this was all very elaborate precau-
tion to take when a man was not even sure he was fol-
lowed. To tell you the truth, I do not know to this
day whether anyone watched me or not, nor do I care.
I live in the present: when once the past is done with,
it ceases to exist for me. It is quite possible, nay, en-
tirely probable, that no one tracked me farther than
Liverpool Street Station the night before, yet it was for
lack of such precaution that my assistant Brisson re-
ceived the Italian's dagger under his shoulder blade
fifteen years before. The present moment is ever the
critical time; the future is merely for intelligent fore-
thought. It was to prepare for the future that I was
now in a cab on the way to my lord's residence. It was
not the French anarchists I feared during the contest
in which I was about to become engaged, but the Paris
police. I knew French officialdom too well not to un-
derstand the futility of going to the authorities there
and proclaiming my object. If I ventured to approach
the Chief of Police with the information that I, in Lon-
don, had discovered what it was his business in Paris
to know, my reception would be far from cordial, even
though, or rather because, I announced myself as Eu-
gene Valmont. The exploits of Eugene had become
69


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
part of the legends of Paris, and these legends were ex-
tremely distasteful to those then in power. My doings
have frequently been made the subject of feuilletons in
the columns of the Paris press, and were, of course, ex-
aggerated by the imagination of the writers, yet, never-
theless, I admit I did some good strokes of detection
during my service with the French Government. It is
but natural, then, that the present authorities should
listen with some impatience when the name of Eugene
Valmont is mentioned. I recognize this as quite in the
order of things to be expected, and am honest enough
to confess that in my own time I often hearkened to
narratives regarding the performances of Lecocq with a
doubting shrug of the shoulders.
Now, if the French police knew anything of this an-
archist plot, which was quite within the bounds of pos-
sibility, and if I were in surreptitious communication
with the anarchists, more especially with the man who
was to fling the bomb, there was every chance I might
find myself in the grip of French justice. I must, then,
provide myself with credentials to show that I was
acting, not against the peace and quiet of my country,
but on the side of law and order. I therefore wished to
get from the nobleman a commission in writing, similar
to that command which he had placed upon me during
the king's visit. This commission I should lodge at
my bank in Paris, to be a voucher for me at the last ex-
tremity. I had no doubt his lordship would empower
me to act in this instance as I had acted on two former
occasions.
70


CHAPTER VI

A REBUFF AND A RESPONSE
IERHAPS if I had not lunched so well I
might have approached his lordship with
greater deference than was the case; but
when ordering lunch I permitted a bottle
of Chateau du Tertre, 1878, a most deli-
cious claret, to be decanted carefully for my delectation
at the table, and this caused a genial glow to permeate
throughout my system, inducing a mental optimism
which left me ready to salute the greatest of earth on a
plane of absolute equality. Besides, after all, I am a
citizen of a Republic.
The nobleman received me with frigid correctness,
implying disapproval of my unauthorized visit, rather
than expressing it. Our interview was extremely brief.
"I had the felicity of serving your lordship upon
two occasions," I began.
"They are well within my recollection," he inter-
rupted, "but I do not remember sending for you a third
time."
"I have taken the liberty of coming unrequested, my
lord, because of the importance of the news I carry. I
surmise that you are interested in the promotion of
friendship between France and England."
71


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Your surmise, sir, is incorrect. I care not a button
about it. My only anxiety was for the safety of the
king."
Even the superb claret was not enough to fortify
me against words so harsh and tones so discourteous as
those his lordship permitted himself to use.
"Sir," said I, dropping the title in my rising anger,
"it may interest you to know that a number of your
countrymen run the risk of being blown to eternity by an
anarchist bomb in less than two weeks from to-day.
A party of business men, true representatives of a class
to which the preeminence of your empire is due, are
about to proceed"
"Pray spare me," interpolated his lordship wearily.
"I have read that sort of thing so often in the news-
papers. If all these estimable City men are blown up,
the empire would doubtless miss them, as you hint, but
I should not, and their fate does not interest me in
the least, although you did me the credit of believing
that it would. Thompson, will you show this person
out? Sir, if I desire your presence here in future, I will
send for you."
"You may send for the devil!" I cried, now thor-
oughly enraged, the wine getting the better of me.
"You express my meaning more tersely than I
cared to do," he replied coldly, and that was the last I
ever saw of him.
Entering the cab I now drove to my flat, indignant
at the reception I had met with. However, I knew the
English people too well to malign them for the action
72


A Rebuff and a Response
of one of their number, and resentment never dwells
long with me. Arriving at my rooms I looked through
the newspapers to learn all I could of the proposed busi-
ness men's excursion to Paris, and, in reading the names
of those most prominent in carrying out the necessary
arrangements, I came across that of W. Raymond White,
which caused me to sit back in my chair and wrinkle
my brow in an endeavor to stir my memory. Unless I
was much mistaken, I had been so happy as to oblige this
gentleman some dozen or thirteen years before. As I re-
membered him, he was a business man who engaged in
large transactions with France, dealing especially in
Lyons and that district. His address was given in the
newspaper as Old 'Change, so at once I resolved to see
him. Although I could not recall the details of our
previous meeting, if, indeed, he should turn out to be
the same person, yet the mere sight of the name had
produced a mental pleasure, as a chance chord struck
may bring a grateful harmony to the mind. I deter-
mined to get my credentials from Mr. White if possible,
for his recommendation would in truth be much more
valuable than that of the gruff old nobleman to whom I
had first applied, because, if I got into trouble with
the police of Paris, I was well enough acquainted with
the natural politeness of the authorities to know that a
letter from one of the city's guests would secure my
instant release.
I took a hansom to the head of that narrow thor-
oughfare known as Old 'Change, and there dismissed
my cab. I was so fortunate as to recognize Mr. White
6 73


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
coming out of his office. A moment later, and I should
have missed him.
"Mr. White," I accosted him, "I desire to enjoy
both the pleasure and the honor of introducing myself
to you."
"Monsieur," replied Mr. White, with a smile, "the
introduction is not necessary, and the pleasure and honor
are mine. Unless I am very much mistaken, this is
Monsieur Valmont of Paris?"
"Late of Paris," I corrected.
"Are you no longer in Government service then?"
"For a little more than ten years I have been a resi-
dent of London."
"What, and have never let me know? That is
something the diplomatists call an unfriendly act, mon-
sieur. Now, shall we return to my office, or go to
a cafe?"
"To your office, if you please, Mr. White. I come
on rather important business."
Entering his private office the merchant closed the
door, offered me a chair, and sat down himself by his
desk. From the first he had addressed me in French,
which he spoke with an accent so pure that it did my
lonesome heart good to hear it.
"I called upon you half a dozen years ago," he went
on, "when I was over in Paris on a festive occasion,
where I hoped to secure your company, but I could not
learn definitely whether you were still with the Govern-
ment or not."
"It is the way of French officialism," I replied. "If
74


A Rebuff and a Response
they knew my whereabouts they would keep the knowl-
edge to themselves."
"Well, if you have been ten years in London, Mon-
sieur Valmont, we may now perhaps have the pleasure
of claiming you as an Englishman; so I beg you will
accompany us on another festive occasion to Paris next
week. Perhaps you have seen that a number of us are
going over there to make the welkin ring."
"Yes, I have read all about the business men's ex-
cursion to Paris, and it is with reference to this journey
that I wish to consult you," and here I gave Mr. White
in detail the plot of the anarchists against the growing
cordiality of the two countries. The merchant listened
quietly, without interruption, until I had finished; then
he said:
"I suppose it will be rather useless to inform the
police of Paris?"
"Indeed, Mr. White, it is the police of Paris I fear
more than the anarchists. They would resent informa-
tion coming to them from the outside, especially from
an ex-official, the inference being that they were not up
to their own duties. Friction and delay would ensue
until the deed was inevitable. It is quite on the cards
that the police of Paris may have some inkling of the
plot, and in that case, just before the event, they are
reasonably certain to arrest the wrong men. I shall be
moving about Paris, not as Eugene Valmont, but as
Paul Ducharme, the anarchist; therefore there is some
danger that as a stranger and a suspect I may be laid
by the heels at the critical moment. If you would be so
75


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
good as to furnish me with credentials which I can de-
posit somewhere in Paris in case of need, I may thus be
able to convince the authorities that they have taken
the wrong man."
Mr. White, entirely unperturbed by the prospect of
having a bomb thrown at him within two weeks, calmly
wrote several documents, then turned his untroubled face
to me, and said, in a very confidential, winning tone:
"Monsieur Valmont, you have stated the case with
that clear comprehensiveness pertaining to a nation
which understands the meaning of words, and the cor-
rect adjustment of them; that felicity of language which
has given France the first place in the literature of na-
tions. Consequently, I think I see very clearly the deli-
cacies of the situation. We may expect hindrances,
rather than help, from officials on either side of the
Channel. Secrecy is essential to success. Have you
spoken of this to anyone but me?"
"Only to Lord Blank," I replied; " and now I deeply
regret having made a confidant of him."
"That does not in the least matter," said Mr. White,
with a smile; "Lord Blank's mind is entirely occupied
by his own greatness. Chemists tell me that you can-
not add a new ingredient to a saturated solution; there-
fore your revelation will have made no impression upon
his lordship's intellect. He has already forgotten all
about it. Am I right in supposing that everything
hinges on the man who is to throw the bomb?"
"Quite right, sir. He may be venal, he may be trai-
torous, he may be a coward, he may be revengeful, he
76


A Rebuff and a Response
may be a drunkard. Before I am in conversation with
him for ten minutes, I shall know what his weak spot
is. It is upon that spot I must act, and my action must
be delayed till the very last moment; for, if he disappears
too long before the event, his first, second, or third sub-
stitute will instantly step into his place."
"Precisely. So you cannot complete your plans un-
til you have met this man?"
"Parfaitement."
"Then I propose," continued Mr. White, "that we
take no one into our confidence. In a case like this
there is little use in going before a committee. I can
see that you do not need any advice, and my own part
shall be to remain in the background, content to support
the most competent man that could have been chosen
to grapple with a very difficult crisis."
I bowed profoundly. There was a compliment in his
glance as well as in his words. Never before had I met
so charming a man.
"Here," he continued, handing me one of the papers
he had written, "is a letter to whom it may concern,
appointing you my agent for the next three weeks, and
holding myself responsible for all you see fit to do.
Here," he went on, passing to me a second sheet, "is
a letter of introduction to Monsieur Largent, the man-
ager of my bank in Paris, a man well known and highly
respected in all circles, both official and commercial. I
suggest that you introduce yourself to him, and he will
hold himself in readiness to respond to any call you
may make, night or day. I assure you that his mere
71


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
presence before the authorities will at once remove any
ordinary difficulty. And now," he added, taking in hand
the third slip of paper, speaking with some hesitation,
and choosing his words with care, "I come to a point
which cannot be ignored. Money is a magician's wand,
which, like faith, will remove mountains. It may also
remove an anarchist hovering about the route of a busi-
ness man's procession."
He now handed to me what I saw was a draft on
Paris for a thousand pounds.
"I assure you, monsieur," I protested, covered with
confusion, "that no thought of money was in my mind
when I took the liberty of presenting myself to you. I
have already received more than I could have expected
in the generous confidence you were good enough to re-
pose in me, as exhibited by these credentials, and es-
pecially the letter to your banker. Thanks to the gener-
osity of your countrymen, Mr. White, of which you are
a most notable example, I am in no need of money."
"Monsieur Valmont, I am delighted to hear that
you have got on well among us. This money is for two
purposes. First, you will use what you need. I know
Paris very well, monsieur, and have never found gold
an embarrassment there. The second purpose is this: I
suggest that when you present the letter of introduction
to Monsieur Largent, you will casually place this amount
to your account in his bank. He will thus see that, be-
sides writing you a letter of introduction, I transfer a
certain amount of my own balance to your credit. That
will do you no harm with him, I assure you. And now,
78


A Rebuff and a Response
Monsieur Valmont, it only remains for me to thank you
for the opportunity you have given me, and to assure
you that I shall march from the Gare du Nord without
a tremor, knowing the outcome is in such capable
custody."
And then this estimable man shook hands with me
in action the most cordial. I walked away from Old
'Change as if I trod upon air; a feeling vastly different
from that with which I departed from the residence of
the old nobleman in the West End but a few hours
before.
79


CHAPTER VII
IN THE GRIP OF THE GREEN DEMON
EXT morning I was in Paris, and next
night I attended the underground meet-
ing of the anarchists, held within a quar-
ter of a mile of the Luxembourg. I was
known to many there assembled, but my
acquaintance, of course, was not so large as with the
London circle. They had half expected me the night
before, knowing that even going by the Hook of Holland
I might have reached Paris in time for the conclave. I
was introduced generally to the assemblage as the emis-
sary from England, who was to assist the bomb-throw-
ing brother to escape either to that country, or to such
other point of safety as I might choose. No questions
were asked me regarding my doings of the day before,
nor was I required to divulge the plans for my fellow-
member's escape. I was responsible; that was enough.
If I failed, through no fault of my own, it was but part
of the ill luck we were all prepared to face. If I failed
through treachery, then a dagger in the back at the ear-
liest possible moment. We all knew the conditions of
our sinister contract, and we all recognized that the least
said the better.

80


In the Grip of the Green Demon
The cellar was dimly lighted by one oil lamp depend-
ing from the ceiling. From this hung a cord attached
to an extinguisher, and one jerk of the cord-would put
out the light. Then, while the main entry doors were
being battered down by police, the occupants of the room
would escape through one of three or four human rat
holes provided for that purpose.
If any Parisian anarchist does me the honor to read
these jottings, I beg to inform him that while I remained
in office under the Government of France there was
never a time when I did not know the exit of each of
these underground passages, and could, during any night
there was a conference, have bagged the whole lot of
those there assembled. It was never my purpose, how-
ever, to shake the anarchists' confidence in their system,
for that merely meant the removal of the gathering to an-
other spot, thus giving us the additional trouble of map-
ping out their new exits and entrances. When I did make
a raid on anarchist headquarters in Paris, it was always
to secure some particular man. I had my emissaries in
plain clothes stationed at each exit. In any case, the
rats were allowed to escape unmolested, sneaking forth
with great caution into the night, but we always spotted
the man we wanted and almost invariably arrested him
elsewhere, having followed him from his kennel. In
each case my uniformed officers found a dark and empty
cellar, and retired apparently baffled. But the coinci-
dence that on the night of every raid some member
there present was secretly arrested in another quarter
of Paris, and perhaps given a free passage to Russia,
81


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
never seemed to awaken suspicion in the minds of the
conspirators.
I think the London anarchists' method is much bet-
ter, and I have ever considered the English nihilist the
most dangerous of this fraternity, for he is cool-headed
and not carried away by his own enthusiasm, and con-
sequently rarely carried away by his own police. The
authorities of London meet no opposition in making a
raid. They find a well-lighted room containing a more
or less shabby coterie playing cards at cheap pine tables.
There is no money visible, and, indeed, very little coin
would be brought to light if the whole party were
searched; so the police are unable to convict the players
under the Gambling Act. Besides, it is difficult in any
case to obtain a conviction under the Gambling Act,
because the accused has the sympathy of the whole coun-
try with him. It has always been to me one of the
anomalies of the English nature that a magistrate can
keep a straight face while he fines some poor wretch for
gambling, knowing that next race day (if the court is
not sitting) the magistrate himself, in correct sporting
costume, with binoculars hanging at his hip, will be on
the lawn by the course, backing his favorite horse.
After my reception at the anarchists' club of Paris,
I remained seated unobtrusively on a bench, waiting un-
til routine business was finished, after which I expected
an introduction to the man selected to throw the bomb.
I am a very sensitive person, and sitting there quietly I
became aware that I was being scrutinized with more
than ordinary intensity by some one, which gave me a
82


In the Grip of the Green Demon
feeling of uneasiness. At last, in the semiobscurity op-
posite me, I saw a pair of eyes, as luminous as those of
a tiger, peering fixedly at me. I returned the stare with
such composure as I could bring to my aid, and the man,
as if fascinated by a look as steady as his own, leaned
forward, and came more and more into the circle of
light. Then I received a shock which it required my ut-
most self-control to conceal. The face, haggard and
drawn, was none other than that of Adolph Simard, who
had been my second assistant in the Secret Service of
France during my last year in office. He was a most
capable and rising young man at that time, and, of
course, he knew me well. Had he, then, penetrated my
disguise? Such an event seemed impossible; he could
not have recognized my voice, for I had said nothing
aloud since entering the room, my few words to the
president being spoken in a whisper. Simard's presence
there bewildered me; by this time he should be high
up in the Secret Service. If he were now a spy, he
would, of course, wish to familiarize himself with every
particular of my appearance, as in my hands lay the es-
cape of the criminal. Yet, if such were his mission, why
did he attract the attention of all members by this open-
eyed scrutiny? That he recognized me as Valmont I
had not the least fear; my disguise was too perfect; and,
even if I were there in my own proper person, I had
not seen Simard, nor he me, for ten years, and great
changes occur in a man's appearance during so long a
period. Yet I remembered with disquietude that Mr.
White recognized me, and here to-night I had recognized
83


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Simard. I could not move my bench farther back be-
cause it stood already against the wall. Simard, on the
contrary, was seated on one of the few chairs in the
room, and this he periodically hitched forward, the bet-
ter to continue his examination, which now attracted
the notice of others besides myself. As he came for-
ward, I could not help admiring the completeness of his
disguise so far as apparel was concerned. He was a
perfect picture of the Paris wastrel, and, what was more,
he wore on his head a cap of the Apaches, the most dan-
gerous band of cutthroats that have ever cursed a civil-
ized city. I could understand that even among lawless
anarchists this badge of membership of the Apache
band might well strike terror. I felt that before the
meeting adjourned I must speak with him, and I de-
termined to begin our conversation by asking him why
he stared so fixedly at me. Yet even then I should have
made little progress. I did not dare to hint that he be-
longed to the Secret Service; nevertheless, if the au-
thorities had this plot in charge, it was absolutely nec-
essary we should work together, or, at least, that I
should know they were in the secret, and steer my course
accordingly. The fact that Simard appeared with un-
disguised face was not so important as might appear to
an outsider. It is always safer for a spy to preserve his
natural appearance if that is possible, because a false
beard or false mustache or wig runs the risk of being
deranged or torn away. As I have said, an anarchist
assemblage is simply a room filled with the atmosphere
of suspicion. I have known instances where an innocent



"I returned the stare with such composure as
my aid."
I could bring to





In the Grip of the Green Demon
stranger was suddenly set upon in the midst of solemn
proceedings by two or three impetuous fellow-members,
who nearly jerked his own whiskers from his face under
the impression that they were false. If Simard, there-
fore, appeared in his own scraggy beard and unkempt
hair, it meant that he communicated with headquarters
by some circuitous route. I realized, therefore, that a
very touchy bit of diplomacy awaited me if I was to
learn from himself his actual status. While I pondered
over this perplexity, it was suddenly dissolved by the
action of the president, and another substituted for it.
"Will Brother Simard come forward?" asked the
president.
My former subordinate removed his eyes from me,
slowly rose from his chair, and shuffled up to the presi-
dent's table.
"Brother Ducharme," said that official to me in a
quiet tone, "I introduce you to Brother Simard, whom
you are commissioned to see into a place of safety when
he has dispersed the procession."
Simard turned his fishy goggle-eyes upon me, and
a grin disclosed wolf-like teeth. He held out his hand,
which, rising to my feet, I took. He gave me a flabby
grasp, and all the time his inquiring eyes traveled over
me.
"You don't look up to much," he said. "What are
you?"
"I am a teacher of the French language in London."
"Umph!" growled Simard, evidently in no wise pre-
possessed by my appearance. "I thought you weren't
85


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
much of a fighter. The gendarmes will make short work
of this fellow," he growled to the chairman.
"Brother Ducharme is vouched for by the whole
English circle," replied the president firmly.
"Oh, the English! I think very little of them. Still,
it doesn't matter," and with a shrug of the shoulders he
shuffled to his seat again, leaving me standing there in
a very embarrassed state of mind, my brain in a whirl.
That the man was present with his own face was be-
wildering enough, but that he should be here under his
own name was simply astounding. I scarcely heard
what the president said. It seemed to the effect that
Simard would take me to his own room, where we might
talk over our plans. And now Simard rose again from
his chair, and said to the president that if nothing more
were wanted of him we would go. Accordingly we left
the place of meeting together. I watched my comrade
narrowly. There was now a trembling eagerness in his
action, and without a word he hurried me to the nearest
cafe, where we sat down before a little iron table on
the pavement.
"Gargon," he shouted harshly, "bring me four ab-
sinths. What will you drink, Ducharme?"
"A cafe-cognac, if you please."
"Bah!" cried Simard; " better have absinth."
Then he cursed the waiter for his slowness. When
the absinth came he grasped the half-full glass and
swallowed the liquid raw, a thing I had never seen done
before. Into the next measure of the wormwood he
poured the water impetuously from the carafe, another
86


In the Grip of the Green Demon
thing I had never seen done before, and dropped two
lumps of sugar into it. Over the third glass he placed
a flat perforated plated spoon, piled the sugar on this
bridge, and now quite expertly allowed the water to drip
through, the proper way of concocting this seductive
mixture. Finishing his second glass, he placed the per-
forated spoon over the fourth, and began now more
calmly sipping the third, while the water dripped slowly
into the last glass.
Here before my eyes was enacted a more won-
derful change than the gradual transformation of
transparent absinth into an opaque opalescent liquid. Si-
mard, under the influence of the drink, was slowly be-
coming the Simard I had known ten years before. Re-
markable! Absinth, having in earlier years made a beast
of the man, was now forming a man out of the beast.
His staring eyes took on an expression of human com-
radeship. The whole mystery became perfectly clear to
me without a question asked or an answer uttered. This
man was no spy, but a genuine anarchist. However it
happened, he had become a victim of absinth, one of
many with whom I was acquainted, although I never
met any so far sunk as he. He was into his fourth
glass, and had ordered two more, when he began to
speak.
"Here's to us!" he cried, with something like a civil-
ized smile on his gaunt face. "You're not offended at
what I said in the meeting, I hope?"
"Oh, no," I answered.
"That's right. You see, I once belonged to the
87


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Secret Service, and if my chief was there to-day, we
would soon find ourselves in a cool dungeon. We
couldn't trip up Eugene Valmont."
At these words, spoken with sincerity, I sat up in
my chair, and I am sure such an expression of enjoy-
ment came into my face that, if I had not instantly sup-
pressed it, I might have betrayed myself.
"Who was Eugene Valmont?" I asked, in a tone of
assumed indifference.
Mixing his fifth glass he nodded sagely.
"You wouldn't ask that question if you'd been in
Paris a dozen years ago. He was the Government's
chief detective, and he knew more of anarchists, yes, and
of Apaches, too, than either you or I do. He had more
brains in his little finger than that whole lot babbling
there to-night. But the Government, being a fool, as all
governments are, dismissed him, and because I was his
assistant, they dismissed me as well. They got rid of
all his staff. Valmont disappeared. If I could have
found him, I wouldn't be sitting here with you to-night;
but he was right to disappear. The Government did
all they could against us who had been his friends, and
I for one came through starvation, and was near throw-
ing myself in the Seine, which sometimes I wish I had
done. Here, gargon, another absinth! But by and by
I came to like the gutter, and here I am. I'd rather have
the gutter and absinth than the Luxembourg without
it. I've had my revenge on the Government many times
since, for I knew their ways, and often have I circum-
vented the police. That's why they respect me among
88


In the Grip of the Green Demon
the anarchists. Do you know how I joined? I knew
all their passwords, and walked right into one of their
meetings, alone and in rags.
"' Here am I,' I said; 'Adolph Simard, late second
assistant to Eugene Valmont, chief detective to the
French Government.'
"There were twenty weapons covering me at once,
but I laughed.
"' I'm starving,' I cried, 'and I want something to
eat, and more especially something to drink! In return
for that I'll show you every rat hole you've got. Lift
the president's chair, and there's a trapdoor that leads
to the Rue Blanc. I'm one of you, and I'll tell you the
tricks of the police.'
"Such was my initiation, and from that moment the
police began to pick their spies out of the Seine, and now
they leave us alone. Even Valmont himself could do
nothing against the anarchists since I have joined them."
Oh, the incredible self-conceit of human nature!
Here was this ruffian proclaiming the limitations of Val-
mont, who half an hour before had shaken his hand
within the innermost circle of his order! Yet my heart
warmed toward the wretch who had remembered me and
my exploits.
It now became my anxious and difficult task to lure
Simard away from this cafe and its absinth. Glass
after glass of the poison had brought him up almost to
his former intellectual level, but now it was shoving him
rapidly down the hill again. I must know where his
room was situated, yet if I waited much longer the man
7 89


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
would be in a state of drunken imbecility which would
not only render it impossible for him to guide me to
his room, but likely cause both of us to be arrested by
the police. I tried persuasion, and he laughed at me;
I tried threats, whereat he scowled and cursed me as a
renegade from England. At last the liquor overpowered
him, and his head sank on the metal table and the dark
blue cap fell to the floor.
90


CHAPTER VIII
THE FATE OF THE PICRIC BOMB

WAS in despair, but now received a lesson
which taught me that if a man leaves a
city, even for a short time, he falls out of
touch with its ways. I called the waiter,
and said to him:
"Do you know my friend here?"
"I do not know his name," replied the garqon,
"but I have seen him many times at this cafe. He is
usually in this state when he has money."
"Do you know where he lives? He promised to
take me with him, and I am a stranger in Paris."
"Have no discontent, monsieur. Rest tranquil; I
will intervene."
With this he stepped across the pavement in front
of the cafe, into the street, and gave utterance to a low,
peculiar whistle. The cafe was now nearly deserted,
for the hour was very late, or, rather, very early. When
the waiter returned I whispered to him in some anxiety:
"Not the police, surely?"
"But no!" he cried in scorn; "certainly not the
police."
He went on unconcernedly taking in the empty chairs
and tables. A few minutes later there swaggered up to
the cafe two of the most disreputable, low-browed scoun-


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
drels I had ever seen, each wearing a dark blue cap,
with a glazed peak over the eyes, caps exactly similar
to the one which lay in front of Simard. The band
of Apaches which now permeates all Paris has risen
since my time, and Simard had been mistaken an hour
before in asserting that Valmont was familiar with their
haunts. The present Chief of Police in Paris and some
of his predecessors confess there is a difficulty in dealing
with these picked assassins, but I should very much like
to take a hand in the game on the side of law and order.
However, that is not to be; therefore the Apaches in-
crease and prosper.
The two vagabonds roughly smote Simard's cap on
his prone head, and as roughly raised him to his feet.
"He is a friend of mine," I interposed, "and prom-
ised to take me home with him."
"Good! Follow us," said one of them; and now I
passed through the morning streets of Paris behind three
cutthroats, yet knew that I was safer than if broad day-
light was in the thoroughfare, with a meridian sun shin-
ing down upon us. I was doubly safe, being in no fear
of harm from midnight prowlers, and equally free from
danger of arrest by the police. Every officer we met
avoided us, and casually stepped to the other side of the
street. We turned down a narrow lane, then through
a still narrower one, which terminated at a courtyard.
Entering a tall building, we climbed up five flights of
stairs to a landing, where one of the scouts kicked open a
door, into a room so miserable that there was not even
a lock to protect its poverty. Here they allowed the in-
92


The Fate of the Picric Bomb
sensible Simard to drop with a crash on the floor, and
thus they left us alone without even an adieu. The
Apaches take care of their own—after a fashion.
I struck a match, and found part of a bougie stuck
in the mouth of an absinth bottle, resting on a rough
deal table. Lighting the bougie, I surveyed the hor-
rible apartment. A heap of rags lay in a corner, and this
was evidently Simard's bed. I hauled him to it, and
there he lay unconscious, himself a bundle of rags. I
found one chair, or, rather, stool, for it had no back.
I drew the table against the lockless door, blew out the
light, sat on the stool, resting my arms on the table, and
my head on my arms, and slept peacefully till long after
daybreak.
Simard awoke in the worst possible humor. He
poured forth a great variety of abusive epithets at me.
To make himself still more agreeable, he turned back
the rags on which he had slept, and brought to the light
a round black object, like a small cannon ball, which he
informed me was the picric bomb that was to scatter
destruction among my English friends, for whom he
expressed the greatest possible loathing and contempt.
Then sitting up, he began playing with this infernal
machine, knowing, as well as I, that if he allowed it to
drop that was the end of us two.
I shrugged my shoulders at this display, and af-
fected a nonchalance I was far from feeling, but finally
put an end to his dangerous amusement by telling him
that if he came out with me I would pay for his break-
fast, and give him a drink of absinth.
93


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
The next few days were the most anxious of my life.
Never before had I lived on terms of intimacy with a
picric bomb, that most deadly and uncertain of all ex-
plosive agencies. I speedily found that Simard was so
absinth-soaked I could do nothing with him. He could
not be bribed or cajoled or persuaded or threatened.
Once, indeed, when he talked with drunken affection of
Eugene Valmont, I conceived a wild notion of declaring
myself to him; but a moment's reflection showed the
absolute uselessness of this course. It was not one
Simard with whom I had to deal, but half a dozen or
more. There was Simard sober, half sober, quarter
sober, drunk, half drunk, quarter drunk, or wholly drunk.
Any bargain I might make with the one Simard would
not be kept by any of the other six. The only safe Si-
mard was Simard insensible through overindulgence.
I had resolved to get Simard insensibly drunk on the
morning of the procession, but my plans were upset at a
meeting of the anarchists, which luckily took place on
an evening shortly after my arrival, and this gave me
time to mature the plan which was actually carried
out. Each member of the anarchists' club knew of Si-
mard's slavery to absinth, and fears were expressed
that he might prove incapable on the day of the pro-
cession, too late for a substitute to take his place. It
was therefore proposed that one or two others should
be stationed along the route of the procession with
bombs ready if Simard failed. This I strenuously op-
posed, and guaranteed that Simard would be ready to
launch his missile. I met with little difficulty in per-
94





The Fate of the Picric Bomb
suading the company to agree, because, after all, every
man among them feared he might be one of those
selected, which choice was practically a sentence of
death. I guaranteed that the bomb would be thrown,
and this apparently was taken to mean that if Simard
did not do the deed, I would.
This danger over, I next took the measurements, and
estimated the weight, of the picric bomb. I then sought
out a most amiable and expert pyrotechnist, a capable
workman of genius, who with his own hand makes those
dramatic firework arrangements which you sometimes
see in Paris. As Eugene Valmont, I had rendered a
great service to this man, and he was not likely to have
forgotten it. During one of the anarchist scares a stu-
pid policeman had arrested him, and when I intervened
the man was just on the verge of being committed for
life. France trembled in one of her panics, or, rather,
Paris did, and demanded victims. This blameless little
workman had indeed contributed with both material and
advice, but any fool might have seen that he had done
this innocently. His assistance had been invoked and
secured under the pretense that his clients were prompt-
ing an amateur firework display, which was true enough,
but the display cost the lives of three men, and intention-
ally so. I cheered up the citizen in the moment of his
utmost despair, and brought such proof of his inno-
cence to the knowledge of those above me that he was
most reluctantly acquitted. To this man I now went
with my measurement of the bomb, and the estimate of
its weight.
95


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Sir," said I, " do you remember Eugene Valmont?"
"Am I ever likely to forget him?" he replied, with
a fervor that pleased me.
"He has sent me to you, and implores you to aid
me, and that aid will wipe out the debt you owe him."
"Willingly, willingly," cried the artisan, "so long
as it has nothing to do with the anarchists or the making
of bombs!"
"It has to do exactly with those two things. I wish
you to make an innocent bomb which will prevent an
anarchist outrage."
At this the little man drew back, and his face became
pale.
"It is impossible," he protested; " I have had enough
of innocent bombs. No, no, and in any case how can
I be sure you come from Eugene Valmont? No, mon-
sieur, I am not to be'*rapped the second time."
At this I related rapidly all that Valmont had done
for him, and even repeated Valmont's most intimate con-
versation with him. The man was nonplused, but re-
mained firm.
"I dare not do it," he said.
We were alone in his back shop. I walked to the
door and thrust in the bolt; then, after a moment's pause,
turned round, stretched forth my right hand dramatic-
ally, and cried:
"Behold Eugene Valmont!"
My friend staggered against the wall in" his amaze-
ment, and I continued in solemn tones:
"Eugene Valmont, who by this removal of his dis-
96


The Fate of the Picric Bomb
guise places his life in your hands as your life was in
his. Now, monsieur, what will you do?"
He replied:
"Monsieur Valmont, I shall do whatever you ask.
If I refused a moment ago, it was because I thought
there was now in France no Eugene Valmont to rectify
my mistake if I make one."
I resumed my disguise, and told him I wished an
innocent substitute for this picric bomb, and he at once
suggested an earthenware globe, which would weigh the
same as the bomb, and which could be colored to resem-
ble it exactly.
"And now, Monsieur Valmont, do you wish smoke
to issue from this imitation bomb?"
"Yes," I said, "in such quantity as you can com-
press within it."
"It is easily done!" he cried, with the enthusiasm
of a true French artist. "And may I place within some
little design of my own which will astonish your friends
the English, and delight my friends the French?"
"Monsieur," said I, "I am in your hands. I trust
the project entirely to your skill." And thus it came
about that four days later I substituted the bogus globe
for the real one, and, unseen, dropped the picric bomb
from one of the bridges into the Seine.
On the morning of the procession I was compelled
to allow Simard several drinks of absinth to bring him
up to a puint where he could be depended on, otherwise
his anxiety and determination to fling the bomb, his
frenzy against all government, made it certain that he
97


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
would betray both of us before the fateful moment came.
My only fear was that I could not stop him drinking
when once he began, but somehow our days of close
companionship, loathsome as they were to me, seemed
to have had the effect of building up again the influence
I held over him in former days, and his yielding more
or less to my wishes appeared to be quite unconscious'
on his part.
The procession was composed entirely of carriages,
each containing four persons—two Englishmen sat on
the back seats, with two Frenchmen in front of them.
A thick crowd lined each side of the thoroughfare,
cheering vociferously. Right into the middle of the pro-
cession Simard launched his bomb. There was no crash
of explosion. The missile simply went to pieces as if
it were an earthenware jar, and there arose a dense col-
umn of very white smoke. In the immediate vicinity the
cheering stopped at once, and the sinister word " bomb"
passed from lip to lip in awed whispers. As the throw-
ing had been unnoticed in the midst of the commotion,
I held Simard firmly by the wrist, determined he should
not draw attention to himself by his panic-stricken
desire for immediate flight.
"Stand still, you fool!" I hissed into his ear, and
he obeyed, trembling.'
The pair of horses in front of which the bomb fell
rose for a moment on their hind legs, and showed signs
of bolting, but the coachman held them firmly, and up-
lifted his hand so that the procession behind him came
to a momentary pause. No one in the carriages moved
98


The Fate of the Picric Bomb
a muscle, then suddenly the tension was broken by a
great and simultaneous cheer. Wondering at this, I
turned my eyes from the frightened horses to the col-
umn of pale smoke in front of us, and saw that in some
manner it had resolved itself into a gigantic calla lily,
pure white, while from the base of this sprang the lilies
of France, delicately tinted. Of course, this could not
have happened if there had been the least wind, but the
air was so still that the vibration of the cheering caused
the huge lily to tremble gently as it stood there mar-
velously poised; the lily of peace, surrounded by the
lilies of France! That was the design, and if you ask me
how it was done, I can only refer you to my pyrotechnist,
and say that whatever a Frenchman attempts to do he
will accomplish artistically.
And now these imperturbable English, who had been
seated, immobile, when they thought a bomb was thrown,
stood up in their carriages to get a better view of this
aerial phenomenon, cheering and waving their hats.
The lily gradually thinned, and dissolved in little patches
of cloud that floated away above our heads.
"I cannot stay here longer," groaned Simard, quak-
ing, his nerves, like himself, in rags. "I see the ghosts
of those I have killed floating around me."
"Come on, then, but do not hurry."
There was no difficulty in getting him to London,
but it was absinth, absinth, all the way, and when we
reached Charing Cross I was compelled to help him,
partly insensible, into a cab. I took him direct to the Im-
perial Flats, and up into my own set of chambers, where
99


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
I opened my strong room, and flung him inside to sleep
off his intoxication, and subsist on bread and water when
he became sober.
I attended that night a meeting of the anarchists, and
detailed accurately the story of our escape from France.
I knew we had been watched, and so skipped no detail.
I reported that I had taken Simard directly to my com-
patriot's flat; to Eugene Valmont, the man who had given
me employment, and who had promised to do what he
could for Simard, beginning by trying to break him of
the absinth habit, as he was now a physical wreck
through overindulgence in that stimulant.
It was curious to note the discussion which took
place a few nights afterwards regarding the failure of
the picric bomb. Scientists among us said that the bomb
had been made too long; that a chemical reaction had
taken place which destroyed its power. A few super-
stitious ones saw a miracle in what had happened, and
they forthwith left our organization. Then again, things
were made easier by the fact that the man who con-
structed the bomb, evidently terror-stricken at what he
had done, disappeared the day before the procession,
and has never since been heard of. The majority of the
anarchists believed he had made a bogus bomb, and had
fled to escape their vengeance rather than to evade the
justice of the law.
Simard will need no purgatory in the next world.
I kept him on bread and water for a month in my strong
room, and at first he demanded absinth with threats,
then groveled, begging and praying for it. After that
100


The Fate of the Picric Bomb
a period of depression and despair ensued, but finally his
naturally strong constitution conquered, and began to
build itself up again. I took him from his prison one
midnight, and gave him a bed in my Soho room, taking
care in bringing him away that he would never recognize
the place where he had been incarcerated. In my deal-
ings with him I had always been that old man, Paul
Ducharme. Next morning I said to him:
"You spoke of Eugene Valmont. I have learned
that he lives in London, and I advise you to call upon
him. Perhaps he can get you something to do."
Simard was overjoyed, and two hours later, as Eu-
gene Valmont, I received him in my flat, and made him
my assistant on the spot. From that time forward, Paul
Ducharme, language teacher, disappeared from the
earth, and Simard abandoned his two A's—anarchy and
absinth.
IOI


CHAPTER IX
THE DINNER FOR SEVEN IN THE TEMPLE
HEN the card was brought in to me, I
looked upon it with some misgiving, for
I scented a commercial transaction, and,
although such cases are lucrative enough,
nevertheless I, Eugene Valmont, formerly
high in the service of the French Government, do not
care to be connected with them. They usually pertain
to sordid business affairs, presenting little that is of
interest to a man who, in his time, has dealt with subtle
questions of diplomacy upon which the welfare of na-
tions sometimes turned.
The name of Bentham Gibbes is familiar to everyone,
connected as it is with the much-advertised pickles,
whose glaring announcements in crude crimson and
green strike the eye throughout Great Britain, and
shock the artistic sense wherever seen. Me! I have
never tasted them, and shall not so long as a French
restaurant remains open in London. But I doubt not
they are as pronounced to the palate as their advertise-
ment is distressing to the eye. If, then, this gross pickle
manufacturer expected me to track down those who
were infringing upon the recipes for making his so-
called sauces, chutneys, and the like, he would find him-

102


The Dinner for Seven in the Temple
self mistaken, for I was now in a position to pick and
choose my cases, and a case of pickles did not allure
me. "Beware of imitations," said the advertisement;
"none genuine without a facsimile of the signature of
Bentham Gibbes." Ah, well, not for me were either
the pickles or the tracking of imitators. A forged check!
yes, if you like, but the forged signature of Mr. Gibbes
on a pickle bottle was out of my line. Nevertheless,
I said to Armand:
"Show the gentleman in," and he did so.
To my astonishment there entered a young man,
quite correctly dressed in the dark frock coat, faultless
waistcoat and trousers that proclaimed a Bond Street
tailor. When he spoke his voice and language were
those of a gentleman.
"Monsieur Valmont?" he inquired.
"At your service," I replied, bowing and waving
my hand as Armand placed a chair for him, and with-
drew.
"I am a barrister with chambers in the Temple,"
began Mr. Gibbes, "and for some days a matter has
been troubling me about which I have now come to
seek your advice, your name having been suggested by a
friend in whom I confided."
"Am I acquainted with him?" I asked.
"I think not," replied Mr. Gibbes; "he also is a
barrister with chambers in the same building as my own.
Lionel Dacre is his name."
"I never heard of him."
"Very likely not. Nevertheless, he recommended
s
103


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
you as a man who could keep his own counsel, and if
you take up this case I desire the utmost secrecy pre-
served, whatever may be the outcome."
I bowed, but made no protestation. Secrecy is a
matter of course with me.
The Englishman paused for a few moments as if he
expected fervent assurances; then went on with no trace
of disappointment on his countenance at not receiving
them.
"On the night of the twenty-third, I gave a little
dinner to six friends of mine in my own rooms. I may
say that so far as I am aware they are all gentlemen
of unimpeachable character. On the night of the din-
ner I was detained later than I expected at a reception,
and in driving to the Temple was still further delayed
by a block of traffic in Piccadilly, so that when I arrived
at my chambers there was barely time for me to dress
and receive my guests. My man Johnson had everything
laid out ready for me in my dressing room, and as I
passed through to it I hurriedly flung off the coat I was
wearing and carelessly left it hanging over the back of
a chair in the dining room, where neither Johnson nor
myself noticed it until my attention was called to it
after the dinner was over, and everyone rather jolly with
wine.
"This coat contains an inside pocket. Usually any
frock coat I wear at an afternoon reception has not an
inside pocket, but I had been rather on the rush all day.
My father is a manufacturer whose name may be fa-
miliar to you, and I am on the directors' board of his
104


The Dinner for Seven in the Temple
company. On this occasion I took a cab from the city
to the reception I spoke of, and had no time to go and
change at my rooms. The reception was a somewhat
bohemian affair, extremely interesting, of course, but
not too particular as to costume, so I went as I was. In
this inside pocket rested a thin package, composed of
two pieces of cardboard, and between them rested five
twenty-pound Bank of England notes, folded lengthwise,
held in place by an elastic rubber band. I had thrown
the coat across the chair back in such a way that the
inside pocket was exposed, leaving the ends of the notes
plainly recognizable.
"Over the coffee and cigars one of my guests laugh-
ingly called attention to what he termed my vulgar dis-
play of wealth, and Johnson, in some confusion at having
neglected to put away the coat, now picked it up, and
took it to the reception room where the wraps of my
guests lay about promiscuously. He should, of course,
have hung it up in my wardrobe, but he said afterwards
he thought it belonged to the guest who had spoken.
You see, Johnson was in my dressing room when I threw
my coat on the chair in the corner while making my
way thither, and I suppose he had not noticed the coat
in- the hurry of arriving guests, otherwise he would have
put it where it belonged. After everybody had gone
Johnson came to me and said the coat was there, but
the package was missing, nor has any trace of it been
found since that night."
"The dinner was fetched in from outside, I sup-
pose?"
8 105


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Yes."
"How many waiters served it?"
"Two. They are men who have often been in my
employ on similar occasions, but, apart from that, they
had left my chambers before the incident of the coat hap-
pened."
"Neither of them went into the reception room, I
take it?"
"No. I am certain that not even suspicion can at-
tach to either of the waiters."
"Your man Johnson?"
"Has been with me for years. He could easily have
stolen much more than the hundred pounds if he had
wished to do so, but I have never known him to take
a penny that did not belong to him."
"Will you favor me with the names of your guests,
Mr. Gibbes?"
"Viscount Stern sat at my right hand, and at my
left Lord Templemere; Sir John Sanclere next to him,
and Angus McKeller next to Sanclere. After Viscount
Stern was Lionel Dacre, and at his right, Vincent Innis."
On a sheet of paper I had written the names of the
guests, and noted their places at the table.
"Which guest drew your attention to the money?"
"Lionel Dacre."
"Is there a window looking out from the reception
room?"
"Two of them."
"Were they fastened on the night of the dinner
party?"
106


The Dinner for Seven in the Temple
"I could not be sure; very likely Johnson would
know. You are hinting at the possibility of a thief com-
ing in through a reception-room window while we were
somewhat noisy over our wine. I think such a solu-
tion highly improbable. My rooms are on the third
floor, and a thief would scarcely venture to make an
entrance when he could not but know there was com-
pany being entertained. Besides this, the coat was there
less than an hour, and it appears to me that whoever
stole those notes knew where they were."
"That seems reasonable," I had to admit. "Have
you spoken to anyone of your loss?"
"To no one but Dacre, who recommended me to see
you. Oh, yes, and to Johnson, of course."
I could not help noting that this was the fourth or
fifth time Dacre's name had come up during our con-
versation.
"What of Dacre?" I asked.
"Oh, well, you see, he occupies chambers in the same
building on the ground floor. He is a very good fellow,
and we are by way of being firm friends. Then it was
he who had called attention to the money, so I thought
he should know the sequel."
"How did he take your news?"
"Now that you call attention to the fact, he seemed
slightly troubled. I should like to say, however, that
you must not be misled by that. Lionel Dacre could no
more steal than he could lie."
"Did he show any surprise when you mentioned the
theft?"
107


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Bentham Gibbes paused a moment before replying,
knitting his brows in thought.
"No," he said at last; "and, come to think of it, it
appeared as if he had been expecting my announcement."
"Doesn't that strike you as rather strange, Mr.
Gibbes?"
"Really, my mind is in such a whirl, I don't know
what to think. But it's perfectly absurd to suspect
Dacre. If you knew the man you would understand
what I mean. He comes of an excellent family, and he
is—oh! he is Lionel Dacre, and when you have said that
you have made any suspicion absurd."
"I suppose you caused the rooms to be thoroughly
searched. The packet didn't drop out and remain un-
noticed in some corner?"
"No; Johnson and myself examined every inch of
the premises."
"Have you the numbers of the notes?"
"Yes; I got them from the bank next morning.
Payment was stopped, and so far not one of the five
has been presented. Of course, one or more may have
been cashed at some shop, but none have been offered
to any of the banks."
"A twenty-pound note is not accepted without scru-
tiny, so the chances are the thief may find some difficulty
in disposing of them."
"As I told you, I don't mind the loss of the money
at all. It is the uncertainty, the uneasiness caused by
the incident which troubles me. You will comprehend
how little I care about the notes when I say that if you
108


The Dinner for Seven in the Temple
are good enough to interest yourself in this case, I shall
be disappointed if your fee does not exceed the amount
I have lost."
Mr. Gibbes rose as he said this, and I accompanied
him to the door assuring him that I should do my best
to solve the mystery. Whether he sprang from pickles
or not, I realized he was a polished and generous gen-
tleman, who estimated the services of a professional
expert like myself at their true value.
I shall not set down the details of my researches dur-
ing the following few days, because the trend of them
must be gone over in the account of that remarkable
interview in which I took part somewhat later. Suffice
it to say that an examination of the rooms and a close
cross-questioning of Johnson satisfied me he and the two
waiters were innocent. I became certain no thief had
made his way through the window, and finally I ar-
rived at the conclusion that the notes were stolen by
one of the guests. Further investigation convinced me
that the thief was no other than Lionel Dacre, the only
one of the six in pressing need of money at this time.-
I caused Dacre to be shadowed, and during one of his
absences made the acquaintance of his man Hopper, a
surly, impolite brute, who accepted my golden sovereign
quickly enough, but gave me little in exchange for it.
While I conversed with him, there arrived in the pas-
sage where we were talking together a huge case of
champagne, bearing one of the best known names in the
trade, and branded as being of the vintage of '78. Now
I knew that the product of Camelot Freres is not bought
109


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
as cheaply as British beer, and I also had learned that
two short weeks before Mr. Lionel Dacre was at his
wits' end for money. Yet he was still the same briefless
barrister he had ever been.
On the morning after my unsatisfactory conversation
with his man Hopper, I was astonished to receive the
following note, written on a dainty correspondence card:
3 and 4, Vellum Buildings,
Inner Temple, E.C.
Mr. Lionel Dacre presents his compliments to Monsieur Eugene
Valmont, and would be obliged if Monsieur Valmont could make it
convenient to call upon him in his chambers to-morrow morning
at eleven.
no


CHAPTER X
THE CLEW OF THE SILVER SPOONS
AD the young man become aware that he
was being shadowed, or had the surly
servant informed him of the inquiries
made? I was soon to know. I called
punctually at eleven next morning, and
was received with charming urbanity by Mr. Dacre him-
self. The taciturn Hopper had evidently been sent away
for the occasion.
"My dear Monsieur Valmont, I am delighted to meet
you," began the young man with more of effusiveness
than I had ever noticed in an Englishman before, al-
though his very next words supplied an explanation that
did not occur to me until afterwards as somewhat far-
fetched. "I believe we are by way of being country-
men, and, therefore, although the hour is early, I hope
you will allow me to offer you some of this bottled sun-
shine of the year '78 from la belle France, to whose
prosperity and honor we shall drink together. For such
a toast any hour is propitious," and to my amazement
he brought forth from the case I had seen arrive two
days before a bottle of that superb Camelot Freres' '78.
"Now," said I to myself, "it is going to be difficult
to keep a clear head if the aroma of this nectar rises to


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
the brain. But tempting as is the cup, I shall drink
sparingly, and hope he may not be so judicious."
Sensitive, I already experienced the charm of his
personality, and well understood the friendship Mr.
Bentham Gibbes felt for him. But I saw the trap spread
before me. He expected, under the influence of cham-
pagne and courtesy, to extract a promise from me
which I must find myself unable to give.
"Sir, you interest me by claiming kinship with
France. I had understood that you belonged to one
of the oldest families of England."
"Ah, England!" he cried, with an expressive gesture
of outspreading hands truly Parisian in its significance.
"The trunk belongs to England, of course, but the
root—ah! the root—Monsieur Valmont, penetrated the
soil from which this wine of the gods has been drawn."
Then filling my glass and his own he cried:
"To France, which my family left in the year 1066!"
I could not help laughing at his fervent ejaculation.
"1066! With William the Conqueror! That is a
long time ago, Mr. Dacre."
"In years perhaps; in feelings but a day. My fore-
fathers came over to steal, and, Lord! how well they ac-
complished it. They stole the whole country—something
like a theft, say I—under that prince of robbers whom
you have well named the Conqueror. In our secret
hearts we all admire a great thief, and if not a great
one, then an expert one, who covers his tracks so per-
fectly that the hounds of justice are baffled in attempt-
ing to follow them. Now even you, Monsieur Valmont
J12


The Clew of the Silver Spoons
(I can see you are the most generous of men, with a
lively sympathy found to perfection only in France),
even you must suffer a pang of regret when you lay
a thief by the heels who has done his task deftly."
"I fear, Mr. Dacre, you credit me with a magna-
nimity to which I dare not lay claim. The criminal is a
danger to society."
"True, true, you are in the right, Monsieur Valmont.
Still, admit there are cases that would touch you ten-
derly. For example, a man ordinarily honest; a great
need; a sudden opportunity. He takes that of which
another has abundance, and he, nothing. What then,
Monsieur Valmont? Is the man to be sent to perdition
for a momentary weakness?"
His words astonished me. Was I on the verge of
hearing a confession? It almost amounted to that al-
ready.
"Mr. Dacre," I said, "I cannot enter into the sub-
tleties you pursue. My duty is to find the criminal."
"Again I say you are in the right, Monsieur Val-
mont, and I am enchanted to find so sensible a head on
French shoulders. Although you are a more recent
arrival, if I may say so, than myself, you nevertheless
already give utterance to sentiments which do honor to
England. It is your duty to hunt down the criminal.
Very well. In that I think I can aid you, and thus have
taken the liberty of requesting your attendance here this
morning. Let me fill your glass again, Monsieur
Valmont."
"No more, I beg of you, Mr. Dacre."
"3


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"What, do you think the receiver is as bad as the
thief?"
I was so taken aback by this remark that I suppose
my face showed the amazement within me. But the
young man merely laughed with apparently free-hearted
enjoyment, poured more wine into his own glass, and
tossed it off. Not knowing what to say, I changed the
current of conversation.
"Mr. Gibbes said you had been kind enough to
recommend me to his attention. May I ask how you
came to hear of me?"
"Ah! who has not heard of the renowned Monsieur
Valmont," and as he said this, for the first time there
began to grow a suspicion in my mind that he was chaf-
fing me, as it is called in England—a procedure which
I cannot endure. Indeed, if this gentleman practiced
such a barbarism in my own country he would find him-
self with a duel on his hands before he had gone far.
However, the next instant his voice resumed its original
fascination, and I listened to it as to some delicious
melody.
"I need only mention my cousin, Lady Gladys Dacre,
and you will at once understand why I recommended
you to my friend. The case of Lady Gladys, you will
remember, required a delicate touch which is not al-
ways to be had in this land of England, except when
those who possess the gift do us the honor to sojourn
with us."
I noticed that my glass was again filled, and bowing
an acknowledgment of his compliment, I indulged in
114


The Clew of the Silver Spoons
another sip of the delicious wine. I sighed, for I began
to realize it was going to be very difficult for me, in spite
of my disclaimer, to tell this man's friend he had stolen
the money. All this time he had been sitting on the
edge of the table, while I occupied a chair at its end.
He sat there in careless fashion, swinging a foot to and
fro. Now he sprang to the floor, and drew up a chair,
placing on the table a blank sheet of paper. Then he
took from the mantelshelf a packet of letters, and I
was astonished to see they were held together by two
bits of cardboard and a rubber band similar to the com-
bination that had contained the folded bank notes. With
great nonchalance he slipped off the rubber band, threw
it and the pieces of cardboard on the table before me,
leaving the documents loose to his hand.
"Now, Monsieur Valmont," he cried jauntily, "you
have been occupied for several days on this case, the case
of my dear friend Bentham Gibbes, who is one of the
best fellows in the world."
"He said the same of you, Mr. Dacre."
"I am gratified to hear it. Would you mind letting
me know to what point your researches have led you?"
"They have led me in a direction rather than to a
point."
"Ah! In the direction of a man, of course?"
"Certainly."
"Who is he?"
"Will you pardon me if I decline to answer this
question at the present moment?"
"That means you are not sure."
"5


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"It may mean, Mr. Dacre, that I am employed by
Mr. Gibbes, and do not feel at liberty to disclose the
results of my quest without his permission."
"But Mr. Bentham Gibbes and I are entirely at one
in this matter. Perhaps you are aware that I am the
only person with whom he has discussed the case besides
yourself."
"That is undoubtedly true, Mr. Dacre; still, you see
the difficulty of my position."
"Yes, I do, and so shall press you no farther. But
I also have been studying the problem in a purely ama-
teurish way, of course. You will perhaps express no dis-
inclination to learn whether or not my deductions agree
with yours."
"None in the least. I should be very glad to know
the conclusion at which you have arrived. May I ask
if you suspect anyone in particular?"
"Yes, I do."
"Will you name him?"
"No; I shall copy the admirable reticence you your-
self have shown. And now let us attack this mystery
in a sane and businesslike manner. You have already
examined the room. Well, here is a rough sketch of it.
There is the table; in this corner stood the chair on
which the coat was flung. Here sat Gibbes at the head
of the table. Those on the left-hand side had their
backs to the chair. I, being on the center to the right,
saw the chair, the coat, and the notes and called attention
to them. Now our first duty is to find a motive. If
it were a murder our motive might be hatred, revenge,
116


The Clew of the Silver Spoons
robbery—what you like. As it is simply the stealing
of money, the man must have been either a born thief
or else some hitherto innocent person pressed to the
crime by great necessity. Do you agree with me, Mon-
sieur Valmont?"
"Perfectly. You follow exactly the line of my own
reasoning."
"Very well. It is unlikely that a born thief was one
of Mr. Gibbes's guests. Therefore we are reduced to
look for a man under the spur of necessity; a man who
has no money of his own, but who must raise a certain
amount, let us say, by a certain date. If we can find
such a man in that company, do you not agree with me
that he is likely to be the thief?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then let us start our process of elimination. Out
goes Viscount Stern, a lucky individual with twenty
thousand acres of land, and God only knows what in-
come. I mark off the name of Lord Templemere, one
of his Majesty's judges, entirely above suspicion. Next,
Sir John Sanclere; he also is rich, but Vincent Innis is
still richer, so the pencil obliterates both names. Now
we arrive at Angus McKeller, an author of some note,
as you are well aware, deriving a good income from
his books and a better one from his plays; a canny Scot,
so we may rub his name from our paper and our mem-
ory. How do my erasures correspond with yours, Mon-
sieur Valmont?"
"They correspond exactly, Mr. Dacre."
"I am flattered to hear it. There remains one name


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
untouched, Mr. Lionel Dacre, the descendant, as I have
said, of robbers."
"I have not said so, Mr. Dacre."
"Ah! my dear Valmont, the politeness of your coun-
try asserts itself. Let us not be deluded, but follow our
inquiry wherever it leads. I suspect Lionel Dacre.
What do you know of his circumstances before the din-
ner of the twenty-third?"
As I made no reply he looked up at me with his
frank, boyish face illumined by a winning smile.
"You know nothing of his circumstances?" he
asked.
"It grieves me to state that I do. Mr. Lionel Dacre
was penniless on the night of the dinner."
"Oh, don't exaggerate, Monsieur Valmont," cried
Dacre, with a gesture of pathetic protest; "his pocket
held one sixpence, two pennies, and a half-penny. How
came you to suspect he was penniless?"
"I knew he ordered a case of champagne from the
London representative of Camelot Freres, and was re-
fused unless he paid the money down."
"Quite right, and then when you were talking to
Hopper you saw that case of champagne delivered. Ex-
cellent! excellent! Monsieur Valmont. But will a man
steal, think you, even to supply himself with so delicious
a wine as this we have been tasting?—and, by the way,
forgive my neglect. Allow me to fill your glass, Mon-
sieur Valmont."
"Not another drop, if you will excuse me, Mr.
Dacre."
118


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
guard on their tongues than they do. Nevertheless, these
documents at my elbow, which I expected would sur-
prise you, are merely the letters and receipts. Here
is the communication from the solicitor threatening me
with bankruptcy; here is his receipt dated the twenty-
sixth; here is the refusal of the wine merchant, and
here is his receipt for the money. Here are smaller bills
liquidated. With my pencil we will add them up. Sev-
enty-eight pounds—the principal debt—bulks large. We
add the smaller items and it reaches a total of ninety-
three pounds seven shillings and fourpence. Let us
now examine my purse. Here is a five-pound note;
there is a golden sovereign. I now count out and place
on the table twelve and sixpence in silver and twopence
in coppers. The purse thus becomes empty. Let us add
the silver and copper to the amount on the paper. Do
my eyes deceive me, or is the sum exactly a hundred
pounds? There is your money fully accounted for."
"Pardon me, Mr. Dacre," I said, "but I observe a
sovereign resting on the mantelpiece." •
Dacre threw back his head and laughed with greater
heartiness than I had yet known him to indulge in dur-
ing our short acquaintance.
"By Jove!" he cried; "you've got me there. I'd
forgotten entirely about that pound on the mantelpiece,
which belongs to you."
"To me? Impossible!"
"It does, and cannot interfere in the least with our
century calculation. That is the sovereign you gave to
my man Hopper, who, knowing me to be hard pressed,
120


The Clew of the Silver Spoons
took it and shamefacedly presented it to me, that I
might enjoy the spending of it. Hopper belongs to our
family, or the family belongs to him. I am never sure
which. You must have missed in him the deferential
bearing of a manservant in Paris, yet he is true gold,
like the sovereign you bestowed upon him, and he be-
stowed upon me. Now here, monsieur, is the evidence
of the theft, together with the rubber band and two
pieces of cardboard. Ask my friend Gibbes to examine
them minutely. They are all at your disposition, mon-
sieur, and thus you learn how much easier it is to deal
with the master than with the servant. All the gold you
possess would not have wrung these incriminating docu-
ments from old Hopper. I was compelled to send him
away to the West End an hour ago, fearing that in
his brutal British way he might assault you if he got
an inkling of your mission."
"Mr. Dacre," said I slowly, "you have thoroughly
convinced me"
"I thought I would," he interrupted with a laugh.
"—that you did not take the money."
"Oho, this is a change of wind, surely. Many a
man has been hanged on a chain of circumstantial evi-
dence much weaker than this which I have exhibited to
you. Don't you see the subtlety of my action? Ninety-
nine persons in a hundred would say: 'No man could
be such a fool as to put Valmont on his own track, and
then place in Valmont's hands such striking evidence.'
But there comes in my craftiness. Of course, the rock
you run up against will be Gibbes's incredulity. The first
9 121


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
question he will ask you may be this: 'Why did not
Dacre come and borrow the money from me?' Now
there you find a certain weakness in your chain of evi-
dence. I knew perfectly well that Gibbes would lend me
the money, and he knew perfectly well that if I were
pressed to the wall I should ask him."
"Mr. Dacre," said I, "you have been playing with
me. I should resent that with most men, but whether
it is your own genial manner or the effect of this excel-
lent champagne, or both together, I forgive you. But
I am convinced of another thing. You know who took
the money."
"I don't know, but I suspect."
"Will you tell me whom you suspect?"
"That would not be fair, but I shall now take the
liberty of filling your glass with champagne."
"I am your guest, Mr. Dacre."
"Admirably answered, monsieur," he replied, pour-
ing out the wine, "and now I offer you a clew. Find
out all about the story of the silver spoons."
"The story of the silver spoons! What silver
spoons?"
"Ah! That is the point. Step out of the Temple
into Fleet Street, seize the first man you meet by the
shoulder, and ask him to tell you about the silver spoons.
There are but two men and two spoons concerned.
When you learn who those two men are, you will know
that one of them did not take the money, and I give
you my assurance that the other did."
"You speak in mystery, Mr. Dacre."
122


The Clew of the Silver Spoons
"But certainly, for I am speaking to Monsieur Eu-
gene Valmont."
"I echo your words, sir. Admirably answered. You
put me on my mettle, and I flatter myself that I see
your kindly drift. You wish me to solve the mystery
of this stolen money. Sir, you do me honor, and I drink
to your health."
"To yours, monsieur," said Lionel Dacre, and thus
we drank and parted.
On leaving Mr. Dacre I took a hansom to a cafe in
Regent Street, which is a passable imitation of similar
places of refreshment in Paris. There, calling for a cup
of black coffee, I sat down to think. The clew of the
silver spoons! He had laughingly suggested that I
should take by the shoulders the first man I met, and
ask him what the story of the silver spoons was. This
course naturally struck me as absurd, and he doubt-
less intended it to seem absurd. Nevertheless, it con-
tained a hint. I must ask somebody, and that the right
person, to tell me the tale of the silver spoons.
Under the influence of the black coffee I reasoned it
out in this way. On the night of the twenty-third one of
the six guests there present stole a hundred pounds, but
Dacre had said that an actor in the silver-spoon episode
was the actual thief. That person, then, must have been
one of Mr. Gibbes's guests at the dinner of the twenty-
third. Probably two of the guests were the participa-
tors in the silver-spoon comedy, but, be that as it may,
it followed that one, at least, of the men around Mr.
Gibbes's table knew the episode of the silver spoons.
123


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Perhaps Bentham Gibbes himself was cognizant of it.
It followed, therefore, that the easiest plan was to ques-
tion each of the men who partook of that dinner. Yet
if only one knew about the spoons, that one must also
have some idea that these spoons formed the clew
which attached him to the crime of the twenty-third,
in which case he was little likely to divulge what he
knew to an entire stranger.
Of course, I might go to Dacre himself and demand
the story of the silver spoons, but this would be a con-
fession of failure on my part, and I rather dreaded Lionel
Dacre's hearty laughter when I admitted that the mys-
tery was too much for me. Besides this I was very well
aware of the young man's kindly intentions toward me.
He wished me to unravel the coil myself, and so I de-
termined not to go to him except as a last resource.
I resolved to begin with Mr. Gibbes, and, finishing
my coffee, I got again into a hansom, and drove back
to the Temple. I found Bentham Gibbes in his room,
and after greeting me, his first inquiry was about the
case.
"How are you getting on?" he asked.
"I think I'm getting on fairly well," I replied, "and
expect to finish in a day or two, if you will kindly tell
me the story of the silver spoons."
"The silver spoons?" he echoed, quite evidently not
understanding me.
"There happened an incident in which two men were
engaged, and this incident related to a pair of silver
spoons. I want to get the particulars of that."
124


The Clew of the Silver Spoons
"I haven't the slightest idea of what you are talking
about," replied Gibbes, thoroughly bewildered. "You
will need to be more definite, I fear, if you are to get
any help from me."
"I cannot be more definite, because I have already
told you all I know."
"What bearing has all this on our own case?"
"I was informed that if I got hold of the clew of the
silver spoons I should be in a fair way of settling our
case."
"Who told you that?"
"Mr. Lionel Dacre."
"Oh, does Dacre refer to his own conjuring?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. What was his conjuring?"
"A very clever trick he did one night at dinner here
about two months ago."
"Had it anything to do with silver spoons?"
"Well, it was silver spoons or silver forks, or some-
thing of that kind. I had entirely forgotten the incident.
So far as I recollect at the moment there was a sleight-
of-hand man of great expertness in one of the music
halls, and the talk turned upon him. Then Dacre said
the tricks he did were easy, and holding up a spoon or
a fork, I don't remember which, he professed his ability
to make it disappear before our eyes, to be found after-
wards in the clothing of some one there present. Sev-
eral offered to bet that he could do nothing of the kind,
but he said he would bet with no one but Innis, who" sat
opposite him. Innis, with some reluctance, accepted
the bet, and then Dacre, with a great show of the usual
125


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
conjurer's gesticulations, spread forth his empty hands,
and said we should find the spoon in Innis's pocket,
and there, sure enough, it was. It seemed a proper
sleight-of-hand trick, but we were never able to get him
to repeat it."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Gibbes; I think I see
daylight now."
"If you do you are cleverer than I by a long chalk,"
cried Bentham Gibbes as I took my departure.
I went directly downstairs, and knocked at Mr.
Dacre's door once more. He opened the door himself,
his man not yet having returned.
"Ah, monsieur," he cried, "back already? You
don't mean to tell me you have so soon got to the bottom
of the silver-spoon entanglement?"
"I think I have, Mr. Dacre. You were sitting at
dinner opposite Mr. Vincent Innis. You saw him con-
ceal a silver spoon in his pocket. You probably waited
for some time to understand what he meant by this, and
as he did not return the spoon to its place, you proposed
a conjuring trick, made the bet with him, and thus the
spoon was returned to the table."
"Excellent! excellent, monsieur! that is very nearly
what occurred, except that I acted at once. I had had
experiences with Mr. Vincent Innis before. Never did
he enter these rooms of mine without my missing some
little trinket after he was gone. Although Mr. Innis is
a very rich person, I am not a man of many possessions,
so if anything is taken, I meet little difficulty in coming
to a knowledge of my loss. Of course, I never men-
126


The Clew of the Silver Spoons
tioned these abstractions to him. They were all trivial,
as I have said, and so far as the silver spoon was con-
cerned, it was of no great value either. But I thought
the bet and the recovery of the spoon would teach him
a lesson; it apparently has not done so. On the night
of the twenty-third he sat at my right hand, as you
will see by consulting your diagram of the table and the
guests. I asked him a question twice, to which he did
not reply, and looking at him I was startled by the ex-
pression in his eyes. They were fixed on a distant cor-
ner of the room, and following his gaze I saw what he
was staring at with such hypnotizing concentration. So
absorbed was he in contemplation of the packet there
so plainly exposed, now my attention was turned to it,
that he seemed to be entirely oblivious of what was
going on around him. I roused him from his trance
by jocularly calling Gibbes's attention to the display of
money. I expected in this way to save Innis from com-
mitting the act which he seemingly did commit. Im-
agine then the dilemma in which I was placed when
Gibbes confided to me the morning after what had oc-
curred the night before. I was positive Innis had taken
the money, yet I possessed no proof of it. I could not
tell Gibbes, and I dared not speak to Innis. Of course,
monsieur, you do not need to be told that Innis is not
a thief in the ordinary sense of the word. He had no
need to steal, and yet apparently cannot help doing so.
I am sure that no attempt has been made to pass those
notes. They are doubtless resting securely in his house
at Kensington. He is, in fact, a kleptomaniac, or a
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The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
maniac of some sort. And now, monsieur, was my hint
regarding the silver spoons of any value to you?"
"Of the most infinite value, Mr. Dacre."
"Then let me make another suggestion. I leave it
entirely to your bravery; a bravery which, I confess, I
do not myself possess. Will you take a hansom, drive to
Mr. Innis's house on the Cromwell Road, confront him
quietly, and ask for the return of the packet? I am
anxious to know what will happen. If he hands it to
you, as I expect he will, then you must tell Mr. Gibbes
the whole story."
"Mr. Dacre, your suggestion shall be immediately
acted upon, and I thank you for your compliment to my
courage."
I found that Mr. Innis inhabited a very grand house.
After a time he entered the study on the ground floor,
to which I had been conducted. He held my card in his
hand, and was looking at it with some surprise.
"I think I have not the pleasure of knowing you,
Monsieur Valmont," he said courteously enough.
"No. I ventured to call on a matter of business. I
was once investigator for the French Government, and
now am doing private detective work here in London."
"Ah! And how is that supposed to interest me?
There is nothing that I wish investigated. I did not send
for you, did I?"
"No, Mr. Innis, I merely took the liberty of calling
to ask you to let me have the package you took from
Mr. Bentham Gibbes's frock-coat pocket on the night
of the twenty-third."
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The Clew of the Silver Spoons
"He wishes it returned, does he?"
"Yes."
Mr. Innis calmly walked to a desk, which he un-
locked and opened, displaying a veritable museum of
trinkets of one sort and another. Pulling out a small
drawer he took from it the packet containing the five
twenty-pound notes. Apparently it had never been
opened. With a smile he handed it to me.
"You will make my apologies to Mr. Gibbes for
not returning it before. Tell him I have been unusually
busy of late.",
"I shall not fail to do so," said I, with a bow.
"Thanks so much. Good morning, Monsieur Val-
mont."
"Good morning, Mr. Innis."
And so I returned the packet to Mr. Bentham Gibbes,
who pulled the notes from between their pasteboard pro-
tection, and begged me to accept them.
129


CHAPTER XI

"O MY PROPHETIC SOUL, MY UNCLE!"
|HE name of the late Lord Chizelrigg never
comes to my mind without instantly sug-
gesting that of Mr. T. A. Edison. I
never saw the late Lord Chizelrigg, and
I have met Mr. Edison only twice in my
life, yet the two men are linked in my memory, and
it was a remark the latter once made that in great
measure enabled me to solve the mystery which the
former had wrapped round his actions.
There is no memorandum at hand to tell me the year
in which those two meetings with Edison took place.
I received a note from the Italian Ambassador in Paris
requesting me to wait upon him at the Embassy. I
learned that on the next day a deputation was to set
out from the Embassy to one of the chief hotels, there
to make a call in state upon the great American inventor,
and formally present to him various insignia accom-
panying certain honors which the King of Italy had
conferred upon him. As many Italian nobles of high
rank had been invited, and as these dignitaries would
not only be robed in the costumes pertaining to their
orders, but in many cases would wear jewels of almost
inestimable value, my presence was desired in the be-
130


O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle!"
lief that I might perhaps be able to ward off any attempt
on the part of the deft-handed gentry who might possibly
make an effort to gain these treasures, and I may add,
with perhaps some little self-gratification, no contre-
temps occurred.
Mr. Edison, of course, had long before received noti-
fication of the hour at which the deputation would wait
upon him, but when we entered the large parlor assigned
to the inventor, it was evident to me at a glance that
the celebrated man had forgotten all about the function.
He stood by a bare table, from which the cloth had been
jerked and flung into a corner, and upon that table were
placed several bits of black and greasy machinery—cog-
wheels, pulleys, bolts, etc. These seemingly belonged
to a French workman who stood on the other side of
the table, with one of the parts in his grimy hand.
Edison's own hands were not too clean, for he had pal-
pably been examining the material, and conversing with
the workman, who wore the ordinary long blouse of an
iron craftsman in a small way. I judged him to be a
man with a little shop of his own in some back street,
who did odd jobs of engineering, assisted, perhaps, by a
skilled helper or two, and a few apprentices. Edison
looked sternly toward the door as the solemn procession
filed in, and there was a trace of annoyance on his face
at the interruption, mixed with a shade of perplexity
as to what this gorgeous display all meant. The Italian
is as ceremonious as the Spaniard where a function is
concerned, and the official who held the ornate box
which contained the jewelry resting on a velvet cushion
13*


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
stepped slowly forward, and came to a stand in front
of the bewildered American. Then the Ambassador,
in sonorous voice, spoke some gracious words regard-
ing the friendship existing between the United States
and Italy, expressed a wish that their rivalry should
ever take the form of benefits conferred upon the human
race, and instanced the honored recipient as the most
notable example the world had yet produced of a man
bestowing blessings upon all nations in the arts of peace.
The eloquent Ambassador concluded by saying that, at
the command of his royal master, it was both his duty
and his pleasure to present, and so forth and so forth.
Mr. Edison, visibly ill at ease, nevertheless made
a suitable reply in the fewest possible words, and the
etalage being thus at an end, the noblemen, headed by
their Ambassador, slowly retired, myself forming the
tail of the procession. Inwardly I deeply sympathized
with the French workman who thus unexpectedly found
himself confronted by so much magnificence. He cast
one wild look about him, but saw that his retreat was
cut off, unless he displaced some of these gorgeous
grandees. He tried then to shrink into himself, and
finally stood helpless, like one paralyzed. In spite of
republican institutions, there is deep down in every
Frenchman's heart a respect and awe for official pa-
geants, sumptuously staged and costumed as this one
was. But he likes to view it from afar, and supported
by his fellows, not thrust incongruously into the midst
of things, as was the case with this panic-stricken en-
gineer. As I passed out, I cast a glance over my shoul-
132


O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle/
der at the humble artisan content with a profit of a few
francs a day, and at the millionaire inventor opposite
him. Edison's face, which during the address had been
cold and impassive, reminding me vividly of a bust of
Napoleon, was now all aglow with enthusiasm as he
turned to his humble visitor. He cried joyfully to
the workman:
"A minute's demonstration is worth an hour's ex-
planation. I'll call round to-morrow at your shop, about
ten o'clock, and show you how to make the thing work."
I lingered in the hall until the Frenchman came out,
then, introducing myself to him, asked the privilege of
visiting his shop next day at ten. This was accorded
with that courtesy which you will always find among the
industrial classes of France, and next day I had the
pleasure of meeting Mr. Edison. During our conversa-
tion I complimented him on his invention of the incan-
descent electric light, and this was the reply that has
ever remained in my memory:
"It was not an invention, but a discovery. We
knew what we wanted: a carbonized tissue, which would
withstand the electric current in a vacuum for, say, a
thousand hours. If no such tissue existed, then the in-
candescent light, as we know it, was not possible. My
assistants started out to find this tissue, and we simply
carbonized everything we could lay our hands on, and
ran the current through it in a vacuum. At last we
struck the right thing, as we were bound to do if we kept
on long enough, and if the thing existed. Patience and
hard work will overcome any obstacle."
133


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
This belief has been of great assistance to me in my
profession. I know the idea is prevalent that a detective
arrives at his solutions in a dramatic way through fol-
lowing clews invisible to the ordinary man. This doubt-
less frequently happens, but, as a general thing, the
patience and hard work which Mr. Edison commends
is a much safer guide. Very often the following of
excellent clews has led me to disaster, as was the case
with my unfortunate attempt to solve the mystery of the
five hundred diamonds.
As I was saying, I never think of the late Lord
Chizelrigg without remembering Mr. Edison at the same
time, and yet the two were very dissimilar. I suppose
Lord Chizelrigg was the most useless man that ever
lived, while Edison is the opposite.
One day my servant brought in to me a card on
which was engraved "Lord Chizelrigg."
"Show his lordship in," I said, and there appeared
a young man of perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five,
well dressed, and of most charming manners, who, never-
theless, began his interview by asking a question such
as had never before been addressed to me, and which,
if put to a solicitor or other professional man, would
have been answered with some indignation. Indeed, I
believe it is a written or unwritten law of the legal
profession that the acceptance of such a proposal as Lord
Chizelrigg made to me would, if proved, result in the
disgrace and ruin of the lawyer.
"Monsieur Valmont," began Lord Chizelrigg, "do
you ever take up cases on speculation?"
134


O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle!"
"On speculation, sir? I do not think I understand
you."
His lordship blushed like a girl, and stammered
slightly as he attempted an explanation.
"What I mean is, do you accept a case on a con-
tingent fee? That is to say, monsieur—er—well, not to
put too fine a point upon it, no results, no pay."
I replied somewhat severely:
"Such an offer has never been made to me, and I
may say at once that I should be compelled to decline
it were I favored with the opportunity. In the cases
submitted to me, I devote my time and attention to their
solution. I try to deserve success, but I cannot com-
mand it, and as in the interim I must live, I am reluc-
tantly compelled to make a charge for my time, at least.
I believe the doctor sends in his bill, though the patient
dies."
The young man laughed uneasily, and seemed al-
most too embarrassed to proceed, but finally he said:
"Your illustration strikes home with greater accu-
racy than probably you imagined when you uttered it.
I have just paid my last penny to the physician who at-
tended my late uncle, Lord Chizelrigg, who died six
months ago. I am fully aware that the suggestion I
made may seem like a reflection upon your skill, or,
rather, as implying a doubt regarding it. But I should
be grieved, monsieur, if you fell into such an error.
I could have come here and commissioned you to under-
take some elucidation of the strange situation in which
I find myself, and I make no doubt you would have
135


7
he Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
acceptec
permitte
able to
the task if your numerous engagements had
d. Then, if you failed, I should have been un-
pay you, for I am practically bankrupt. My
whole desire, therefore, was to make an honest begin-
ning, and to let you know exactly how I stand. If you
succeed, I shall be a rich man; if you do not succeed, I
shall be what I am now, penniless. Have I made it
plain now why I began with a question which you had
every right to resent?"
"Perfectly plain, my lord, and your candor does you
credit."
I was very much taken with the unassuming man-
ners of the young man, and his evident desire to accept
no service under false pretenses. When I had finished
my sentence the pauper nobleman rose to his feet and
bowed.
"I am very much your debtor, monsieur, for your
courtesy in receiving me, and can only beg pardon for
occupying your time on a futile quest. I wish you good
morning, monsieur."
"Gne moment, my lord," I rejoined, waving him to
his chair again. "Although I am unprepared to ac-
cept a commission on the terms you suggest, I may,
nevertheless, be able to offer a hint or two that will prove
of service to you. I think I remember the announcement
of Lord Chizelrigg's death. He was somewhat eccen-
tric, was he not?"
"Eccentric?" said the young man, with a slight
laugh, seating himself again. "Well, rather\"
"I vaguely remember that he was accredited with
136


"O My Prophetic Soul, My Unclf/"
the possession of something like twenty thousand acres
of land?"
"Twenty-seven thousand, as a matter of fact," re-
plied my visitor.
"Have you fallen heir to the lands as well as to the
title?"
"Oh, yes; the estate was entailed. The old gentle-
man could not divert it from me if he would, and I
rather suspect that fact must have been the cause of
some worry to him."
"But surely, my lord, a man who owns, as one might
say, a principality in this wealthy realm of England,
cannot be penniless?"
Again the young man laughed.
"Well, no," he replied, thrusting his hand in his
pocket and bringing to light a few brown coppers and
a white silver piece. "I possess enough money to buy
some food to-night, but not enough to dine at the Hotel
Cecil. You see, it is like this. I belong to a somewhat
ancient family, various members of whom went the pace,
and mortgaged their acres up to the hilt. I could not
raise a further penny on my estates were I to try my
hardest, because at the time the money was lent, land
was much more valuable than it is to-day. Agricultural
depression, and all that sort of thing, have, if I may put
it so, left me a good many thousands worse off than if
I had no land at all. Besides this, during my late uncle's
life, Parliament, on his behalf, intervened once or twice,
allowing him in the first place to cut valuable timber,
and in the second place to sell the pictures of Chizelrigg
10 137


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Chase at Christie's for figures which make one's mouth
water."
"And what became of the money?" I asked; where-
upon once more this genial nobleman laughed.
"That is exactly what I came up in the lift to learn
if Monsieur Valmont could discover."
"My lord, you interest me," I said, quite truly, with
an uneasy apprehension that I should take up his case
after all, for I liked the young man already. His lack
of pretense appealed to me, and that sympathy which is
so universal among my countrymen enveloped him, as
I may say, quite independent of my own will.
"My uncle," went on Lord Chizelrigg, "was some-
what of an anomaly in our family. He must have been
a reversal to a very, very ancient type; a type of which
we have no record. He was as miserly as his forefathers
were prodigal. When he came into the title and estate
some twenty years ago, he dismissed the whole retinue
of servants, and, indeed, was defendant in several cases
at law where retainers of our family brought suit against
him for wrongful dismissal, or dismissal without a penny
compensation in lieu of notice. I am pleased to say he
lost all his cases, and when he pleaded poverty, got per-
mission to sell a certain number of heirlooms, enabling
him to make compensation, and giving him something
on which to live. These heirlooms at auction sold so
unexpectedly well, that my uncle acquired a taste, as it
were, of what might be done. He could always prove
that the rents went to the mortgagees, and that he had
nothing on which to exist, so on several occasions he ob-
138


0 My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle!"
tained permission from the courts to cut timber and sell
pictures, until he denuded the estate and made an empty
barn of the old manor house. He lived like any laborer,
occupying himself sometimes as a carpenter, sometimes
as a blacksmith; indeed, he made a blacksmith's shop of
the library, one of the most noble rooms in Britain, con-
taining thousands of valuable books which again and
again he applied for permission to sell, but this privilege
was- never granted to him. I find, on coming into the
property, that my uncle quite persistently evaded the
law, and depleted this superb collection, book by book,
surreptitiously, through dealers in London. This, of
course, would have got him into deep trouble if it had
been discovered before his death, but now the valuable
volumes are gone, and there is no redress. Many of
them are doubtless in America or in museums and col-
lections of Europe."
"You wish me to trace them, perhaps?" I interpo-
lated.
"Oh, no; they are past praying for. The old man
made tens of thousands by the sale of the timber, and
other tens of thousands by disposing of the pictures.
The house is denuded of its fine old furniture, which was
immensely valuable, and then the books, as I have said,
must have brought in the revenue of a prince, if he got
anything like their value, and you may be sure he was
shrewd enough to know their worth. Since the last re-
fusal of the courts to allow him further relief, as he
termed it, which was some seven years ago, he had quite
evidently been disposing of books and furniture by
139


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
, a private sale, in defiance of the law. At that time I was
under age, but my guardians opposed his application to
the courts, and demanded an account of the moneys al-
ready in his hands. The judges upheld the opposition
of my guardians, and refused to allow a further spolia-
tion of the estate, but they did not grant the accounting
my guardians asked, because the proceeds of the former
sales were entirely at the disposal of my uncle, and were
sanctioned by the law to permit him to live as befitted
his station. If he lived meagerly instead of lavishly, as
my guardians contended, that, the judges said, was his
affair, and there the matter ended.
My uncle took a violent dislike to me on account of
this opposition to his last application, although, of course,
I had nothing whatever to do with the matter. He lived
like a hermit, mostly in the library, and was waited
upon by an old man and his wife, and these three were
the only inhabitants of a mansion that could comfortably
house a hundred. He visited nobody, and would allow
no one to approach Chizelrigg Chase. In order that all
who had the misfortune to have dealings with him
should continue to endure trouble after his death, he left
what might be called a will, but which rather may be
termed a letter to me. Here is a copy of it:
My dear Tom: You will find your fortune between a couple of
sheets of paper in the library.
Your affectionate uncle,
Reginald Moran, Earl of Chizelrigg.
"I should doubt if that were a legal will," said I.
"It doesn't need to be," replied the young man with
140


O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle/"
a smile. "I am next of kin, and heir to everything he
possessed, although, of course, he might have given his
money elsewhere if he had chosen to do so. Why he did
not bequeath it to some institution, I do not know. He
knew no man personally except his own servants, whom
he misused and starved; but, as he told them, he mis-
used and starved himself, so they had no cause to grum-
ble. He said he was treating them like one of the family.
I suppose he thought it would cause me more worry
and anxiety if he concealed the money, and put me on
the wrong scent, which I am convinced he has done,
than to leave it openly to any person or charity."
"I need not ask if you have searched the library?"
"Searched it? Why, there never was such a search
since the world began!"
"Possibly you put the task into incompetent hands?"
"You are hinting, Monsieur Valmont, that I en-
gaged others until my money was gone, then came to you
with a speculative proposal. Let me assure you such
is not the case. Incompetent hands, I grant you, but
the hands were my own. For the past six months I have
lived practically as my uncle lived. I have rummaged
that library from floor to ceiling. It was left in a fright-
ful state, littered with old newspapers, accounts, and
what not. Then, of course, there were the books re-
maining in the library, still a formidable collection."
"Was your uncle a religious man?"
"I could not say. I surmise not. You see, I was
unacquainted with him, and never saw him until after
his death. I fancy he was not religious, otherwise he
141


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
could not have acted as he did. Still, he proved himself
a man of such twisted mentality that anything is pos-
sible."
"I knew a case once where an heir who expected a
large sum of money was bequeathed a family Bible,
which he threw into the fire, learning afterwards, to
his dismay, that it contained many thousands of pounds
in Bank of England notes, the object of the devisor
being to induce the legatee to read the good Book or
suffer through the neglect of it."
"I have searched the scriptures," said the youthful
earl with a laugh, "but the benefit has been moral rather
than material."
"Is there any chance that your uncle has deposited
his wealth in a bank, and has written a check for the
amount, leaving it between two leaves of a book?"
"Anything is possible, monsieur, but I think that
highly improbable. I have gone through every tome,
page by page, and I suspect very few of the volumes
have been opened for the last twenty years."
"How much money do you estimate he accumu-
lated?"
"He must have cleared more than a hundred thou-
sand pounds, but speaking of banking it, I would like
to say that my uncle evinced a deep distrust of banks,
and never drew a check in his life, so far as I am aware.
All accounts were paid in gold by his old steward, who
first brought the receipted bill in to my uncle, and then
received the exact amount, after having left the room,
and waited until he was rung for, so that he might not
142


"0 My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle!"
learn the repository from which my uncle drew his store.
I believe if the money is ever found it will be in gold,
and I am very sure that this will was written, if we may
call it a will, to put us on the wrong scent."
"Have you had the library cleared out?"
"Oh, no; it is practically as my uncle left it. I real-
ized that if I were to call in help, it would be well that
the newcomer found it undisturbed."
"You were quite right, my lord. You say you exam-
ined all the papers?"
"Yes; so far as that is concerned, the room has been
very fairly gone over, but nothing that was in it the day
my uncle died has been removed, not even his anvil."
"His anvil?"
"Yes; I told you he made a blacksmith's shop, as
well as bedroom, of the library. It is a huge room, with
a great fireplace at one end which formed an excellent
forge. He and the steward built the forge in the eastern
fireplace, of brick and clay, with their own hands, and
erected there a secondhand blacksmith's bellows."
"What work did he do at his forge?"
"Oh, anything that was required about the place.
He seems to have been a very expert ironworker. He
would never buy a new implement for the garden or the
house so long as he could get one secondhand, and he
never bought anything secondhand while at his forge he
might repair what was already in use. He kept an old
cob, on which he used to ride through the park, and
he always put the shoes on this cob himself, the stew-
ard informs me, so he must have understood the use
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The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
of blacksmith's tools. He made a carpenter's shop of
the chief drawing-room and erected a bench there. I
think a very useful mechanic was spoiled when my uncle
became an earl."
"You have been living at the Chase since your uncle
died?"
"If you call it living, yes. The old steward and
his wife have been looking after me, as they looked after
my uncle, and, seeing me day after day, coatless, and
covered with dust, I imagine they think me a second
edition of the old man."
"Does the steward know the money is missing?"
"No; no one knows it but myself. This will was
left on the anvil, in an envelope addressed to me."
"Your statement is exceedingly clear, Lord Chizel-
rigg, but I confess I don't see much daylight through it.
Is there a pleasant country around Chizelrigg Chase?"
"Very; especially at this season of the year. In
autumn and winter the house is a little draughty. It
needs several thousand pounds to put it in repair."
"Draughts do not matter in the summer. I have
been long enough in England not to share the fear of
my countrymen for a courant d'air. Is there a spare
bed in the manor house, or shall I take down a cot with
me, or let us say a hammock?"
"Really," stammered the earl, blushing again, "you
must not think I detailed all these circumstances in order
to influence you to take up what may be a hopeless case.
I, of course, am deeply interested, and, therefore, some-
what prone to be carried away when I begin a recital
J44


O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle/"
of my uncle's eccentricities. If I receive your permis-
sion, I will call on you again in a month or two. To tell
you the truth, I borrowed a little money from the old
steward, and visited London to see my legal advisers,
hoping that in the circumstances I may get permission to
sell something that will keep me from starvation. When
I spoke of the house being denuded, I meant relatively,
of course. There are still a good many antiquities which
would doubtless bring me in a comfortable sum of
money. I have been borne up by the belief that I should
find my uncle's gold. Lately I have been beset by a
suspicion that the old gentleman thought the library the
only valuable asset left, and for this reason wrote his
note, thinking I would be afraid to sell anything from
that room. The old rascal must have made a pot of
money out of those shelves. The catalogue shows that
there was a copy of the first book printed in England
by Caxton, and several priceless Shakespeares, as well
as many other volumes that a collector would give a
small fortune for. All these are gone. I think when I
show this to be the case, the authorities cannot refuse
me the right to sell something, and, if I get this permis-
sion, I shall at once call upon you."
"Nonsense, Lord Chizelrigg. Put your application
in motion, if you like. Meanwhile, I beg of you to look
upon me as a more substantial banker than your old stew-
ard. Let us enjoy a good dinner together at the Cecil
to-night, if you will do me the honor to be my guest.
To-morrow we can leave for Chizelrigg Chase. How
far is it?"
145


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"About three hours," replied the young man, be-
coming as red as a new Queen Anne villa. "Really,
Monsieur Valmont, you overwhelm me with your kind-
ness, but nevertheless I accept your generous offer."
"Then that's settled. What's the name of the old
steward?"
"Higgins."
"You are certain he has no knowledge of the hid-
ing-place of this treasure?"
"Oh, quite sure. My uncle was not a man to make
a confidant of anyone, least of all an old babbler like
Higgins."
"Well, I should like to be introduced to Higgins
as a benighted foreigner. That will make him despise
me, and treat me like a child."
"Oh, I say," protested the earl, "I should have
thought you'd lived long enough in England to have
got out of the notion that we do not appreciate the for-
eigner. Indeed, we are the only nation in the world
that extends a cordial welcome to him, rich or poor."
"Certainement, my lord, I should be deeply disap-
pointed did you not take me at my proper valuation, but
I cherish no delusions regarding the contempt with
which Higgins will regard me. He will look upon me
as a sort of simpleton to whom the Lord -has been un-
kind by not making England my native land. Now,
Higgins must be led to believe that I am in his own
class; that is, a servant of yours. Higgins and I will
gossip over the fire together, should these spring even-
ings prove chilly, and before two or three weeks are past
146


/
/
I
CHAPTER XII
LORD CHIZELRIGG'S MISSING FORTUNE
HE young earl's modesty in such description
of his home as he had given me left me
totally unprepared for the grandeur of
the mansion, one corner of which he
inhabited. It is such a place as you read
of in romances of the Middle Ages; not a pinnacled
or turreted French chateau of that period, but a beauti-
ful and substantial stone manor house of a ruddy color,
whose warm hue seemed to add a softness to the severity
of its architecture. It is built round an outer and an
inner courtyard, and could house a thousand, rather than
the hundred with which its owner had accredited it.
There are many stone-mullioned windows, and one at
the end of the library might well have graced a cathedral.
This superb residence occupies the center of a heavily
timbered park, and from the lodge at the gates we drove
at least a mile and a half under the grandest avenue of
old oaks I have ever seen. It seemed incredible that the
owner of all this should actually lack the ready money
to pay his fare to town!
Old Higgins met us at the station with a somewhat
rickety cart, to which was attached the ancient cob that
the late earl used to shoe. We entered a noble hall,

148


\ •'
t .
Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
which probably looked the larger because of the en-
tire absence of any kind of furniture, unles's. $wo com-
plete suits of venerable armor which stood on either
hand might be considered as furnishing. I laughed
aloud when the door was shut, and the sound echoed
like the merriment of ghosts from the dim timbered roof
above me.
"What are you laughing at?" asked the earl.
"I am laughing to see you put your modern tall hat
on that mediaeval helmet."
"Oh, that's it! Well, put yours on the other. I
mean no disrespect to the ancestor who wore this suit,
but we are short of the harmless, necessary hatrack,
so I put my topper on the antique helmet, and thrust
the umbrella (if I have one) in behind here, and down
one of his legs. Since I came in possession, a very
crafty-looking dealer from London visited me, and at-
tempted to sound me regarding the sale of these suits
of armor. I gathered he would give enough money
to keep me in new suits, London made, for the
rest of my life, but when I endeavored to find out if he
had had commercial dealings with my prophetic uncle,
he became frightened and bolted. I imagine that if I
had possessed presence of mind enough to have lured
him into one of our most uncomfortable dungeons, I
might have learned where some of the family treasures
went to. Come up these stairs, Monsieur Valmont, and
I will show you your room."
We had lunched on the train coming down, so after
a wash in my own room I proceeded at once to inspect
149


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
the library. It proved, indeed, a most noble apartment,
and it had been scandalously used by the old reprobate,
its late tenant. There were two huge fireplaces, one
in the middle of the north wall and the other at the
eastern end. In the latter had been erected a rude brick
forge, and beside the forge hung a great black bellows,
smoky with usage. On a wooden block lay the anvil,
and around it rested and rusted several hammers, large
and small. At the western end was a glorious window
filled with ancient stained glass, which, as I have said,
might have adorned a cathedral. Extensive as the col-
lection of books was, the great size of this chamber
made it necessary that only the outside wall should
be covered with bookcases, and even these were divided
by tall windows. The opposite wall was blank, with the
exception of a picture here and there, and these pic-
tures offered a further insult to the room, for they were
cheap prints, mostly colored lithographs that had ap-
peared in Christmas numbers of London weekly journals,
incased in poverty-stricken frames, hanging from nails
ruthlessly driven in above them. The floor was cov-
ered with a litter of papers, in some places knee-deep,
and in the corner farthest from the forge still stood the
bed on which the ancient miser had died.
"Looks like a stable, doesn't it?" commented the
earl, when I had finished my inspection. "I am sure
the old boy simply filled it up with this rubbish to give
me the trouble of examining it. Higgins tells me that
up to within a month before he died the room was rea-
sonably clear of all this muck. Of course it had to be,
150


Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
or the place would have caught fire from the sparks
of the forge. The old man made Higgins gather all the
papers he could find anywhere about the place, ancient
accounts, newspapers, and what not, even to the brown
wrapping paper you see, in which parcels came, and com-
manded him to strew the floor with this litter, because,
as he complained, Higgins's boots on the boards made
too much noise, and Higgins, who is not in the least
of an inquiring mind, accepted this explanation as en-
tirely meeting the case."
Higgins proved to be a garrulous old fellow, who
needed no urging to talk about the late earl; indeed,
it was almost impossible to deflect his conversation into
any other channel. Twenty years' intimacy with the
eccentric nobleman had largely obliterated that sense of
deference with which an English servant usually ap-
proaches his master. An English underling's idea of
nobility is the man who never by any possibility works
with his hands. The fact that Lord Chizelrigg had toiled
at the carpenter's bench; had mixed cement in the
drawing-room; had caused the anvil to ring out till
midnight, aroused no admiration in Higgins's mind.
In addition to this, the ancient nobleman had been penu-
riously strict in his examination of accounts, exacting
the uttermost farthing, so the humble servitor regarded
his memory with supreme contempt. I realized before
the drive was finished from the station to Chizelrigg
Chase that there was little use of introducing me to Hig-
gins as a foreigner and a fellow-servant. I found my-
self completely unable to understand what the old fellow
151


Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
every evening before dark, as if it were a fortress, he was
bound to place the treasure in the most unlikely spot for
a thief to get at it. Now, the coal fire smoldered all
night long, and if the gold was in the forge underneath
the embers, it would be extremely difficult to get at.
A robber rummaging in the dark would burn his fingers
in more senses than one. Then, as his lordship kept no
less than four loaded revolvers under his pillow, all he
had to do, if a thief entered his room, was to allow the
search to go on until the thief started at the forge, then,
doubtless, as he had the range with reasonable accuracy,
night or day, he might sit up in bed and blaze away
with revolver after revolver. There were twenty-eight
shots that could be fired in about double as many sec-
onds, so you see the robber stood little chance in the
face of such a fusillade. I propose that we dismantle the
forge."
Lord Chizelrigg was much taken by my reasoning,
and one morning early we cut down the big bellows,
tore it open, found it empty, then took brick after brick
from the forge with a crowbar, for the old man had
builded better than he knew with Portland cement. In
fact, when we cleared away the rubbish between the
bricks and the core of the furnace we came upon one
cube of cement which was as hard as granite. With
the aid of Higgins, and a set of rollers and levers, we
managed to get this block out into the park, and at-
tempted to crush it with the sledge hammers belonging
to the forge, in which we were entirely unsuccessful.
Thcmore it resisted our efforts, the more certain we be-
ll 153


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
came that the coins would be found within it. As this
would not be treasure-trove in the sense that the Gov-
ernment might make a claim upon it, there was no par-
ticular necessity for secrecy, so we had up a man from
the mines near by with drills and dynamite, who speedily
shattered the block into a million pieces, more or less.
Alas! there was no trace in its debris of " pay dirt," as
the western miner puts it. While the dynamite expert
was on the spot, we induced him to shatter the anvil
as well as the block of cement, and then the workman,
doubtless thinking the new earl was as insane as the
old one had been, shouldered his tools and went back to
his mine.
The earl reverted to his former opinion that the
gold was concealed in the park, while I held even more
firmly to my own belief that the fortune rested in the
library.
"It is obvious," I said to him, "that if the treasure
is buried outside, some one must have dug the hole. A
man so timorous and so reticent as your uncle would
allow no one to do this but himself. Higgins maintained
the other evening that all picks and spades were safely
locked up by himself each night in the tool house. The
mansion itself was barricaded with such exceeding care
that it would have been difficult for your uncle to get
outside even if he wished to do so. Then such a man
as your uncle is described to have been would contin-
ually desire ocular demonstration that his savings were
intact, which would be practically impossible if the gold
had found a grave in the park I propose now that
154


Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
we abandon violence and dynamite, and proceed to an
intellectual search of the library."
"Very well," replied the young earl; "but as I have
already searched the library very thoroughly, your use
of the word 'intellectual,' Monsieur Valmont, is not in
accord with your customary politeness. However, I am
with you. Tis for you to command, and me to obey."
"Pardon me, my lord," I said, " I used the word ' in-
tellectual' in contradistinction to the word 'dynamite.'
It had no reference to your former search. I merely
propose that we now abandon the use of chemical re-
action, and employ the much greater force of mental
activity. Did you notice any writing on the margins of
the newspapers you examined?"
"No, I did not."
"Is it possible that there may have been some com-
munication on the white border of a newspaper?"
"It is, of course, possible."
"Then will you set yourself to the task of glancing
over the margin of every newspaper, piling them away
in another room when your scrutiny of each is complete?
Do not destroy anything, but we must clear out the
library completely. I am interested in the accounts, and
will examine them."
It was exasperatingly tedious work; but after several
days my assistant reported every margin scanned with-
out result, while I had collected each bill and memo-
randum, classifying them according to date. I could not
get rid of a suspicion that the contrary old beast had
written instructions for the finding of the treasure on
155


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
the back of some account, or on the flyleaf of a book, and
as I looked at the thousands of volumes still left in the
library, the prospect of such a patient and minute search
appalled me. But I remembered Edison's words to the
effect that if a thing exists, search, exhaustive enough,
will find it. From the mass of accounts I selected
several; the rest I placed in another room, alongside the
heap of the earl's newspapers.
"Now," said I to my helper, "if it please you, we
will have Higgins in, as I wish some explanation of these
accounts."
"Perhaps I can assist you," suggested his lordship,
drawing up a chair opposite the table on which I had
spread the statements. "I have lived here for six
months, and know as much about things as Higgins does.
He is so difficult to stop when once he begins to talk.
What is the first account you wish further light upon?"
"To go back thirteen years, I find that your uncle
bought a secondhand safe in Sheffield. Here is the bill.
I consider it necessary to find that safe."
"Pray forgive me, Monsieur Valmont," cried the
young man, springing to his feet and laughing; "so
heavy an article as a safe should not slip readily from
a man's memory, but it did from mine. The safe is
empty, and I gave no more thought to it."
Saying this, the earl went to one of the bookcases
that stood against the wall, pulled it round as if it were
a door, books and all, and displayed the front of an
iron safe, the door of which he also drew open, exhibit-
ing the usual empty interior of such a receptacle.
156


Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
"I came on this," he said, "when I took down all
these volumes. It appears that there was once a secret
door leading from the library into an outside room,
which has long since disappeared; the walls are very
thick. My uncle doubtless caused this door to be taken
off its hinges, and the safe placed in the aperture, the
rest of which he then bricked up."
"Quite so," said I, endeavoring to conceal my dis-
appointment. "As this strong box was bought second-
hand and not made to order, I suppose there can be no
secret crannies in it?"
"It looks like a common or garden safe," reported
my assistant, " but we'll have it out if you say so."
"Not just now," I replied; "we've had enough of
dynamiting to make us feel like housebreakers already."
"I agree with you. What's the next item on the pro-
gramme?"
"Your uncle's mania for buying things at second
hand was broken in three instances so far as I have
been able to learn from a scrutiny of these accounts.
About four years ago he purchased a new book from
Denny & Co., the well-known booksellers of the Strand.
Denny & Co. deal only in new books. Is there any com-
paratively new volume in the library?"
"Not one."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Oh, quite; I searched all the literature in the house.
What is the name of the volume he bought?"
"That I cannot decipher. The initial letter looks
like ' M,' but the rest is a mere wavy line. I see, how-
157


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
ever, that it cost twelve-and-sixpence, while the cost of
carriage by parcel post was sixpence, which shows it
weighed something under four pounds. This, with the
price of the book, induces me to think it was a scientific
work, printed on heavy paper and illustrated."
"I know nothing of it," said the earl.
"The third account is for wall paper; twenty-seven
rolls of an expensive wall paper, and twenty-seven rolls
of a cheap paper, the latter being just half the price
of the former. This wall paper seems to have been sup-
plied by a tradesman in the station road in the village of
Chizelrigg."
"There's your wall paper," cried the youth, waving
his hand; "he was going to paper the whole house,
Higgins told me, but got tired after he had finished
the library, which took him nearly a year to accomplish,
for he worked at it very intermittently, mixing the paste
in the boudoir, a pailful at a time, as he needed it. It
was a scandalous thing to do, for underneath the paper
is the most exquisite oak paneling, very plain, but very
rich in color."
I rose and examined the paper on the wall. It was
dark brown, and answered the description of the ex-
pensive paper on the bill.
"What became of the cheap paper?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"I think," said I, "we are on the track of the mys-
tery. I believe that paper covers a sliding panel or con-
cealed door."
"It is very likely," replied the earl. "I intended to
158


Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
have the paper off, but I had no money to pay a work-
man, and I am not so industrious as was my uncle.
What is your remaining account?"
"The last also pertains to paper, but comes from
a firm in Budge Row, London, E.C. He has had, it
seems, a thousand sheets of it, and it appears to have
been frightfully expensive. This bill is also illegible, but
I take it a thousand sheets were supplied, although, of
course, it may have been a thousand quires, which would
be a little more reasonable for the price charged, or a
thousand reams, which would be exceedingly cheap."
"I don't know anything about that. Let's turn on
Higgins."
Higgins knew nothing of this last order of paper
either. The wall-paper mystery he at once cleared up.
Apparently the old earl had discovered by experiment
that the heavy, expensive wall paper would not stick
to the glossy paneling, so he had purchased a cheaper
paper, and had pasted that on first. Higgins said he had
gone all over the paneling with a yellowish-white paper,
and after that was dry he pasted over it the more expen-
sive rolls.
"But," I objected, "the two papers were bought and
delivered at the same time; therefore he could not have
found by experiment that the heavy paper would not
stick."
"I don't think there is much in that," commented the
earl; "the heavy paper may have been bought first, and
found to be unsuitable, and then the coarse, cheap paper
bought afterwards. The bill merely shows that the ac-
159


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
count was sent in on that date. Indeed, as the village
of Chizelrigg is but a few miles away, it would have
been quite possible for my uncle to have bought the
heavy paper in the morning, tried it, and in the after-
noon sent for the commoner lot; but, in any case, the bill
would not have been presented until months after the
order, and the two purchases were thus lumped to-
gether."
I was forced to confess that this seemed reasonable.
Now, about the book ordered from Denny's. Did
Higgins remember anything regarding it? It came four
years ago.
Ah, yes, Higgins did; he remembered it very well
indeed. He had come in one morning with the earl's tea,
and the old man was sitting up in bed reading this vol-
ume with such interest that he was unaware of Higgins's
knock, and Higgins himself, being a little hard of hear-
ing, took for granted the command to enter. The earl
hastily thrust the book under the pillow, alongside the
revolvers, and rated Higgins in a most cruel way for
entering the room before getting permission to do so.
He had never seen the earl so angry before, and he laid
it all to this book. It was after the book had come
that the forge had been erected and the anvil bought.
Higgins never saw the book again, but one morning,
six months before the earl died, Higgins, in raking out
the cinders of the forge, found what he supposed was a
portion of the book's cover. He believed his master had
burned the volume.
Having dismissed Higgins, I said to the earl:
160



'He had never seen the earl so angry before.





The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
infinitely cheap compared with the fine vellum it deposed
in a certain branch of industry. In Paris, years before,
these sheets had given me the knowledge of how a gang
of thieves disposed of their gold without melting it.
The paper was used instead of vellum in the rougher
processes of manufacturing gold leaf. It stood the con-
stant beating of the hammer nearly as well as the vellum,
and here at once there flashed on me the secret of the
old man's midnight anvil work. He was transforming
his sovereigns into gold leaf, which must have been of
a rude, thick kind, because to produce the gold leaf of
commerce he still needed the vellum as well as a
"cutch" and other machinery, of which we had found
no trace.
"My lord," I called to my assistant (he was at the
other end of the room), "I wish to test a theory on the
anvil of your own fresh common sense."
"Hammer away," replied the earl, approaching me
with his usual good-natured, jocular expression.
"I eliminate the safe from our investigations be-
cause it was purchased thirteen years ago, but the buy-
ing of the book, of wall covering, of this tough paper
from France, all group themselves into a set of incidents
occurring within the same month as the purchase of the
anvil and the building of the forge; therefore, I think
they are related to one another. Here are some sheets
of paper he got from Budge Row. Have you ever seen
anything like it? Try to tear this sample."
"It's reasonably tough," admitted his lordship, fruit-
lessly endeavoring to rip it apart.


Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune
"Yes. It was made in France, and is used in gold
beating. Your uncle beat his sovereigns into gold leaf.
You will find that the book from Denny's is a volume on
gold beating, and now as I remember that scribbled
word which I could not make out, I think the title of the
volume is 'Metallurgy.' It contains, no doubt, a chap-
ter on the manufacture of gold leaf."
"I believe you," said the earl; "but I don't see that
the discovery sets us any farther forward. We're now
looking for gold leaf instead of sovereigns."
"Let's examine this wall paper," said I.
I placed my knife under a corner of it at the floor,
and quite easily ripped off a large section. As Higgins
had said, the brown paper was on top, and the coarse,
light-colored paper underneath. But even that came
away from the oak paneling as easily as though it hung
there from habit, and not because of paste.
"Feel the weight of that," I cried, handing him the
sheet I had torn from the wall.
"By Jove!" said the earl, in a voice almost of awe.
I took it from him, and laid it, face downward, on
the wooden table, threw a little water on the back, and
with a knife scraped away the porous white paper. In-
stantly there gleamed up at us the baleful yellow of the
gold. I shrugged my shoulders and- spread out my
hands. The Earl of Chizelrigg laughed aloud and very
heartily.
"You see how it is," I cried. "The old man first
covered the entire wall with this whitish paper. He
heated his sovereigns at the forge and beat them out
163


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
on the anvil, then completed the process rudely between
the sheets of this paper from France. Probably he
pasted the gold to the wall as soon as he shut himself
in for the night, and covered it over with the more
expensive paper before Higgins entered in the morning."
We found afterwards, however, that he had actually
fastened the thick sheets of gold to the wall with carpet
tacks.
His lordship netted a trifle over a hundred and
twenty-three thousand pounds through my discovery,
and I am pleased to pay tribute to the young man's gen-
erosity by saying that his voluntary settlement made my
bank account swell stout as a City alderman.
164


CHAPTER XIII
THE FUTILITY OF A SEARCH WARRANT
OME years ago I enjoyed the unique expe-
rience of pursuing a man for one crime,
and getting evidence against him of an-
other. He was innocent of the misde-
meanor, the proof of which I sought, but
was guilty of another most serious offense, yet he and
his confederates escaped scot-free in circumstances which
I now purpose to relate.
You may remember that in Rudyard Kipling's story,
"Bedalia Herodsfoot," the unfortunate woman's hus-
band ran the risk of being arrested as a simple drunkard,
at a moment when the blood of murder was upon his
boots. The case of Ralph Summertrees was rather the
reverse of this. The English authorities were trying to
fasten upon him a crime almost as important as murder,
while I was collecting evidence which proved him
guilty of an action much more momentous than that of
drunkenness.
The English authorities have always been good
enough, when they recognize my existence at all, to
look down upon me with amused condescension. If
to-day you ask Spenser Hale, of Scotland Yard, what
he thinks of Eugene Valmont, that complacent man will

165


The Futility of a Search Warrant
head, and replied the secret was not his. The last time
he did this I assured him that what he said was quite
correct, and then I related full particulars of the situa-
tion in which he found himself, excepting the names, for
these he had not mentioned. I had pieced together his
perplexity from scraps of conversation in his half-hour's
fishing for my advice, which, of course, he could have
had for the plain asking. Since that time he has not
come to me except with cases he feels at liberty to reveal,
and one or two complications I have happily been enabled
to unravel for him.
But, stanch as Spenser Hale holds the belief that
no detective service on earth can excel that centering
in Scotland Yard, there is one department of activity
in which even he confesses that Frenchmen are his
masters, although he somewhat grudgingly qualifies, his
admission, by adding that we in France are constantly
allowed to do what is prohibited in England. I refer
to the minute search of a house during the owner's ab-
sence. If you read that excellent story entitled "The
Purloined Letter," by Edgar Allan Poe, you will find
a record of the kind of thing I mean, which is better
than any description I, who have so often taken part in
such a search, can set down.
Now, these people among whom I live are proud of
their phrase, "The Englishman's house is his castle,"
and into that castle even a policeman cannot penetrate
without a legal warrant. This may be all very well in
theory, but if you are compelled to march up to a man's
house, blowing a trumpet and rattling a snare drum,

167


The Futility of a Search Warrant
have been followed by serious results to myself. But
in France—ah, we understand those things, and nothing
happened.
I am the last person in the world to give myself away,
as they say in the great West. I am usually the calm,
collected Eugene Valmont whom nothing can perturb,
but this was a time of great tension, and I had become
absorbed. I was alone with the minister in his private
house, and one of the papers he wished was in his bu-
reau at the Ministry for Foreign Affairs; at least, he
thought so, and said:
"Ah! it is in my desk at the bureau. How annoy-
ing! I must send for it!"
"No, Excellency," I cried, springing up in a self-
oblivion the most complete; " it is here." Touching the
spring of a secret drawer, I opened it, and taking out
the document he wished, handed it to him.
It was not until I met his searching look, and saw
the faint smile on his lips, that I realized what I had
done.
"Valmont," he said quietly, "on whose behalf did
you search my house?"
"Excellency," I replied in tones no less agreeable
than his own, "to-night at your orders I pay a domi-
ciliary visit to the mansion of Baron Dumoulaine, who
stands high in the estimation of the President of the
French Republic. If either of those distinguished gen-
tlemen should learn of my informal call, and should ask
me in whose interests I made the domiciliary visit, what
is it you wish that I should reply?"
12 169


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"You should reply, Valmont, that you did it in the
interests of the Secret Service."
"I shall not fail to do so, Excellency, and in answer
to your question just now, I had the honor of searching
this mansion in the interests of the Secret Service of
France."
The Minister for Foreign Affairs laughed; a hearty
laugh that expressed no resentment.
"I merely wished to compliment you, Valmont, on
the efficiency of your search and the excellence of your
memory. This is indeed the document which I thought
was left in my office."
I wonder what Lord Lansdowne would say if Spenser
Hale showed an equal familiarity with his private pa-
pers! But now that we have returned to our good
friend Hale, we must not keep him waiting any longer.
170


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
I knew little about the silver question, but the man's
oratorical powers had appealed to me, and my sympathy
was aroused because he owned many silver mines, and
yet the price of the metal was so low that apparently he
could not make a living through the operation of them.
But, of course, the cry that he was a plutocrat, and a re-
puted millionaire over and over again, was bound to de-
feat him in a democracy where the average voter is ex-
ceedingly poor and not comfortably well-to-do, as is the
case with our peasants in France. I always took great
interest in the affairs of the huge republic to the west,
having been at some pains to inform myself accurately
regarding its politics; and although, as my readers know,
I seldom quote anything complimentary that is said of
me, nevertheless, an American client of mine once ad-
mitted that he never knew the true inwardness;—I think
that was the phrase he used—of American politics until
he heard me discourse upon them. But then, he added,
he had been a very busy man all his life.
I had allowed my paper to slip to the floor, for in
very truth the fog was penetrating even into my flat, and
it was becoming difficult to read, notwithstanding the
electric light. My man came in, and announced that
Mr. Spenser Hale wished to see me, and, indeed, any
night, but especially when there is rain or fog outside,
I am more pleased to talk with a friend than to read a
newspaper.
"Mon Dieu, my dear Monsieur Hale, it is a brave
man you are to venture out in such a fog as is abroad
to-night."
172


Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard
"Ah, Monsieur Valmont," said Hale with pride,
"you cannot raise a fog like this in Paris!"
"No. There you are supreme," I admitted, rising
and saluting my visitor, then offering him a chair.
"I see you are reading the latest news," he said,
indicating my newspaper. "I am very glad that man
Bryan is defeated. Now we shall have better times."
I waved my hand as I took my chair again. I will
discuss many things with Spenser, Hale, but not Ameri-
can politics; he does not understand them. It is a com-
mon defect of the English to suffer complete ignorance
regarding the internal affairs of other countries.
"It is surely an important thing that brought you
out on such a night as this. The fog must be very thick
in Scotland Yard."
This delicate shaft of fancy completely missed him,
and he answered stolidly:
"It's thick all over London, and, indeed, throughout
most of England."
"Yes, it is," I agreed, but he did not see that either.
Still, a moment later, he made a remark which, if it
had come from some people I know, might have in-
dicated a glimmer of comprehension.
"You are a very, very clever man, Monsieur Val-
mont, so all I need say is that the question which brought
me here is the same as that on which the American elec-
tion was fought. Now, to a countryman, I should be
compelled to give further explanation, but to you, mon-
sieur, that will not be necessary."
There are times when I dislike the crafty smile and
173


Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard
threatens to ruin all the farmers of the West who pos-
sess silver mines on their farms. Silver troubled Amer-
ica, ergo silver troubles Scotland Yard.
"Very well; the natural inference is that some one
has stolen bars of silver. But such a theft happened
three months ago, when the metal was being unloaded
from a German steamer at Southampton, and my dear
friend Spenser Hale ran down the thieves very cleverly
as they were trying to dissolve the marks off the bars
with acid. Now crimes do not run in series, like the
numbers in roulette at Monte Carlo. The thieves are
men of brains. They say to themselves, 'What chance
is there successfully to steal bars of silver while Mr.
Hale is at Scotland Yard?' Eh, my good friend?"
"Really, Valmont," said Hale, taking another sip,
"sometimes you almost persuade me that you have rea-
soning powers."
"Thanks, comrade. Then it is not a theft of silver
we have now to deal with. But the American election
was fought on the price of silver. If silver had been
high in cost, there would have been no silver question.
So the crime that is bothering you arises through the low
price of silver, and this suggests that it must be a case
of illicit coinage, for there the low price of the metal
comes in. You have, perhaps, found a more subtle ille-
gitimate act going forward than heretofore. Some one
is making your shillings and your half crowns from real
silver, instead of from baser metal, and yet there is a
large profit which has not hitherto been possible through
the high price of silver. With the old conditions you
175


Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard
"Well, you know, that's an expensive district to live
in; it takes a bit of money to do the trick. This Sum-
mertrees has no ostensible business, yet every Friday
he goes to the United Capital Bank in Piccadilly, and
deposits a bag of swag, usually all silver coin."
"Yes; and this money?"
"This money, so far as we can learn, contains a good
many of these new pieces which never saw the British
Mint."
"It's not all the new coinage, then?"
"Oh, no, he's a bit too artful for that! You see, a
man can go round London, his pockets filled with new-
coined five-shilling pieces, buy this, that, and the other,
and come home with his change in legitimate coins of the
realm—half crowns, florins, shillings, sixpences, and all
that."
"I see. Then why don't you nab him one day when
his pockets are stuffed with illegitimate five-shilling
pieces?"
"That could be done, of course, and I've thought of
it, but, you see, we want to land the whole gang. Once
we arrested him, without knowing where the money
came from, the real coiners would take flight."
"How do you know he is not the real coiner him-
self?"
Now poor Hale is as easy to read as a book. He
hesitated before answering this question, and looked
confused as a culprit caught in some dishonest act.
"You need not be afraid to tell me," I said sooth-
ingly, after a pause. "You have had one of your men in
177


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Mr. Summertrees's house, and so learned that he is not
the coiner. But your man has not succeeded in getting
you evidence to incriminate other people."
"You've about hit it again, Monsieur Valmont. One
of my men has been Summertrees's butler for two weeks,
but, as you say, he has found no evidence."
"Is he still butler?"
"Yes."
"Now tell me how far you have got. You know
that Summertrees deposits a bag of coin every Friday
in the Piccadilly Bank, and I suppose the bank has al-
lowed you to examine one or two of the bags."
"Yes, sir, they have, but, you see, banks are very
difficult to treat with. They don't like detectives bother-
ing round, and while they do not stand out against the
law, still they never answer any more questions than
they're asked, and Mr. Summertrees has been a good
customer at the United Capital for many years."
"Haven't you found out where the money comes
from?"
"Yes, we have; it is brought there night after night
by a man who looks like a respectable city clerk, and
he puts it into a large safe, of which he holds the key,
this safe being on the ground floor, in the dining room."
"Haven't you followed the clerk?"
"Yes. He sleeps in the Park Lane house every night
and goes up in the morning to an old curiosity shop in
Tottenham Court Road, where he stays all day, return-
ing with his bag of money in the evening."
"Why don't you arrest and question him?"
178


Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard
"Well, Monsieur Valmont, there is just the same
objection to his arrest as to that of Summertrees himself.
We could easily arrest both, but we have not the slightest
evidence against either of them, and then, although we
put the go-betweens in clink, the worst criminals of the
lot would escape."
"Nothing suspicious about the old curiosity shop?"
"No. It appears to be perfectly regular."
"This game has been going on under your noses for
how long?"
"For about six weeks."
"Is Summertrees a married man?"
"No."
"Are there any women servants in the house?"
"No, except that three charwomen come in every
morning to do up the rooms."
"Of what is his household comprised?"
"There is the butler, then the valet, and last the
French cook."
"Ah," cried I, "the French cook! This case in-
terests me. So Summertrees has succeeded in com-
pletely disconcerting your man? Has he prevented him
going from top to bottom of the house?"
"Oh, no! He has rather assisted him than otherwise.
On one occasion he went to the safe, took out the money,
had Podgers—that's my chap's name—help him to count
it, and then actually sent Podgers to the bank with the
bag of coin."
"And Podgers has been all over the place?"
"Yes."
179


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Saw no signs of a coining establishment?"
"No. It is absolutely impossible that any coining can
be done there. Besides, as I tell you, that respectable
clerk brings him the money."
"I suppose you want me to take Podgers's position?"
"Well, Monsieur Valmont, to tell you the truth, I
would rather you didn't. Podgers has done everything
a man can do, but I thought if you got into the house,
Podgers assisting, you might go through it night after
night at your leisure."
"I see. That's just a little dangerous in England.
I think I should prefer to assure myself the legitimate
standing of being amiable Podgers's successor. You say
that Summertrees has no business?"
"Well, sir, not what you might call a business. He
is by way of being an author, but I don't count that any
business."
"Oh, an author, is he? When does he do his
writing?"
"He locks himself up most of the day in his study."
"Does he come out for lunch?"
"No; he lights a little spirit lamp inside, Podgers
tells me, and makes himself a cup of coffee, which he
takes with a sandwich or two."
"That's rather frugal fare for Park Lane."
"Yes, Monsieur Valmont, it is, but he makes it up
in the evening, when he has a long dinner, with all them
foreign kickshaws you people like, done by his French
cook."
"Sensible man! Well, Hale, I see I shall look for-
180


Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard
ward with pleasure to making the acquaintance of Mr.
Summertrees. Is there any restriction on the going and
coming of your man Podgers?"
"None in the least. He can get away either night
or day."
"Very good, friend Hale; bring him here to-morrow,
as soon as our author locks himself up in his study,
or rather, I should say, as soon as the respectable clerk
leaves for Tottenham Court Road, which I should guess,
as you put it, is about half an hour after his master
turns the key of the room in which he writes."
"You are quite right in that guess, Valmont. How
did you hit it?"
"Merely a surmise, Hale. There is a good deal of
oddity about that Park Lane house, so it doesn't surprise
me in the least that the master gets to work earlier in
the morning than the man. I have also a suspicion that
Ralph Summertrees knows perfectly well what the es-
timable Podgers is there for."
"What makes you think that?"
"I can give no reason except that my opinion of the
acuteness of Summertrees has been gradually rising all
the while you were speaking, and at the same time my
estimate of Podgers's craft has been as steadily declin-
ing. However, bring the man here to-morrow, that I
may ask him a few questions."
181


CHAPTER XV
THE STRANGE HOUSE IN PARK LANE
EXT day, about eleven o'clock, the pon-
derous Podgers, hat in hand, followed his
chief into my room. His broad, impas-
sive, immobile, smooth face gave him
rather more the air of a genuine butler
than I had expected, and this appearance, of course, was
enhanced by his livery. His replies to my questions were
those of a well-trained servant who will not say too much
unless it is made worth his while. All in all, Podgers
exceeded my expectations, and really my friend Hale
had some justification for regarding him, as he evidently
did, a triumph in his line.
"Sit down, Mr. Hale, and you, Podgers."
The man disregarded my invitation, standing like a
statue until his chief made a motion; then he dropped
into a chair. The English are great on discipline.
"Now, Mr. Hale, I must first congratulate you on
the make-up of Podgers. It is excellent. You depend
less on artificial assistance than we do in France, and
in that I think you are right."
"Oh, we know a bit over here, Monsieur Valmont!"
said Hale, with pardonable pride.
"Now then, Podgers, I want to ask you about this
clerk. What time does he arrive in the evening?"

182


The Strange House in Park Lane
"At prompt six, sir."
"Does he ring, or let himself in with a latchkey?"
"With a latchkey, sir."
"How does he carry the money?"
"In a little locked leather satchel, sir, flung over his
shoulder."
"Does he go direct to the dining room?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you seen him unlock the safe, and put in the
money?"
"Yes, sir."
"Does the safe unlock with a word or a key?"
"With a key, sir. It's one of the old-fashioned
kind."
"Then the clerk unlocks his leather money bag?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's three keys used within as many minutes.
Are they separate or in a bunch?"
"In a bunch, sir."
"Did you ever see your master with this bunch of
keys?"
"No, sir."
"You saw him open the safe once, I am told?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did he use a separate key, or one of a bunch?"
Podgers slowly scratched his head, then said:
"I don't just remember, sir."
"Ah, Podgers, you are neglecting the big things in
that house! Sure you can't remember?"
"No, sir."
183


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Once the money is in and the safe locked up, what
does the clerk do?"
"Goes to his room, sir."
"Where is this room?"
"On the third floor, sir."
"Where do you sleep?"
"On the fourth floor with the rest of the servants,
sir."
"Where does the master sleep?"
"On the second floor, adjoining his study."
"The house consists of four stories and a basement,
does it?"
"Yes, sir."
"I have somehow arrived at the suspicion that it is
a very narrow house. Is that true?"
"Yes, sir."
"Does the clerk ever dine with your master?"
"No, sir. The clerk don't eat in the house at all, sir."
"Does he go away before breakfast?"
"No, sir."
"No one takes breakfast to his room?"
"No, sir."
"What time does he leave the house?"
"At ten o'clock, sir."
"When is breakfast served?"
"At nine o'clock, sir."
"At what hour does your master retire to his
study?"
"At half past nine, sir."
"Locks the door on the inside?"
184


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Podgers pondered a long time.
"Well, sir, he do stick to writing pretty close."
"Ah, that's his profession, you see, Podgers. Hard
at it from half past nine till toward seven, I imagine?"
"Yes, sir."
"Anything else, Podgers? No matter how trivial."
"Well, sir, he's fond of reading, too; leastways, he's
fond of newspapers."
"When does he read?"
"I never seen him read 'em, sir; indeed, so far
as I can tell, I never knew the papers to be opened, but
he takes them all in, sir."
'" What, all the morning papers?"
"Yes, sir, and all the evening papers, too."
"Where are the morning papers placed?"
"On the table in his study, sir."
"And the evening papers?"
"Well, sir, when the evening papers come, the study
is locked. They are put on a side table in the dining
room, and he takes them upstairs with him to his study."
"This has happened every day since you've been
there?"
"Yes, sir."
"You reported that very striking fact to your chief,
of course?"
"No, sir, I don't think I did," said Podgers con-
fused.
"You should have done so. Mr. Hale would have
known how to make the most of a point so vital."
"Oh, come now, Valmont," interrupted Hale,

186


The Strange House in Park Lane
"you're chaffing us! Plenty of people take in all the
papers!"
"I think not. Even clubs and hotels subscribe to the
leading journals only. You said all, I think, Podgers?"
"Well, nearly all, sir."
"But which is it? There's a vast difference."
"He takes a good many, sir."
"How many?"
"I don't just know, sir."
That's easily found out, Valmont," cried Hale, with
some impatience, "if you think it really important."
"I think -it so important that I'm going back with
Podgers myself. You can take me into the house, I
suppose, when you return?"
"Oh, yes, sir!"
"Coming back to these newspapers for a moment,
Podgers. What is done with them?"
"They are sold to the ragman, sir, once a week."
"Who takes them, from the study?"
"I do, sir."
"Do they appear to have been read very carefully?"
"Well, no, sir; leastways, some of them seem never
to have been opened, or else folded up very carefully
again."
"Did you notice that extracts have been clipped from
any of them?"
"No, sir."
"Does Mr. Summertrees keep a scrapbook?"
"Not that I know of, sir."
"Oh, the case is perfectly plain!" said I, leaning back
187


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
in my chair, and regarding the puzzled Hale with that
cherubic expression of self-satisfaction which I know is
so annoying to him.
"What's perfectly plain?" he demanded, more
gruffly perhaps than etiquette would have sanctioned.
"Summertrees is no coiner, nor is he linked with any
band of coiners."
"What is he, then?"
"Ah, that opens another avenue of inquiry! For
all I know to the contrary, he may be the most honest
of men. On the surface it would appear that he is a
reasonably industrious tradesman in Tottenham Court
Road, who is anxious that there should be no visible
connection between a plebeian employment and so aris-
tocratic a residence as that in Park Lane."
At this point Spenser Hale gave expression to one
of those rare flashes of reason which are always an as-
tonishment to his friends.
"That is nonsense, Monsieur Valmont," he said;
"the man who is ashamed of the connection between his
business and his house is one who is trying to get into
society, or else the women of his family are trying it,
as is usually the case. Now Summertrees has no family.
He himself goes nowhere, gives no entertainments, and
accepts no invitations. He belongs to no club; therefore,
to say that he is ashamed of his connection with the
Tottenham Court Road shop is absurd. He is con-
cealing the connection for some other reason that will
bear looking into."
"My dear Hale, the Goddess of Wisdom herself

188


The Strange House in Park Lane
could not have made a more sensible series of remarks.
Now, mon ami, do you want my assistance, or have you
enough to go on with?"
"Enough to go on with? We have nothing more
than we had when I called on you last night."
"Last night, my dear Hale, you supposed this man
was in league with coiners. To-day you know he is not."
"I know you say he is not."
I shrugged my shoulders, and raised my eyebrows,
smiling at him.
"It is the same thing, Monsieur Hale."
"Well, of all the conceited—" and the good Hale,
could get no farther.
"If you wish my assistance, it is yours."
"Very good. Not to put too fine a point upon it, I
do."
"In that case, my dear Podgers, you will return to
the residence of our friend Summertrees, and get to-
gether for me in a bundle all of yesterday's morning and
evening papers that were delivered to the house. Can
you do that, or are they mixed up in a heap in the coal
cellar?"
"I can do it, sir. I have instructions to place each
day's papers in a pile by itself in case they should be
wanted again. There is always one week's supply in
the cellar, and we sell the papers of the week before to
the ragman."
"Excellent. Well, take the risk of abstracting one
day's journals, and have them ready for me. I will
call upon you at half past three o'clock exactly, and then
s
189


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
I want you to take me upstairs to the clerk's bedroom
in the third story, which I suppose is not locked during
the daytime?"
"No, sir, it is not."
With this the patient Podgers took his departure.
Spenser Hale rose when his assistant left.
"Anything further I can do?" he asked.
"Yes; give me the address of the shop in Totten-
ham Court Road. Do you happen to have about you one
of those new five-shilling pieces which you believe to be
illegally coined?"
He opened his pocketbook, took out the bit of white
metal, and handed it to me.
"I'm going to pass this off before evening," I said,
putting it in my pocket, "and I hope none of your men
will arrest me."
"That's all right," laughed Hale as he took his leave.
At half past three Podgers was waiting for me, and
opened the front door as I came up the steps, thus sav-
ing me the necessity of ringing. The house seemed
strangely quiet. The French cook was evidently down
in the basement, and we had probably all the upper part
to ourselves, unless Summertrees was in his study, which
I doubted. Podgers led me directly upstairs to the
clerk's room on the third floor, walking on tiptoe, with
an elephantine air of silence and secrecy combined, which
struck me as unnecessary.
"I will make an examination of this room," I said.
"Kindly wait for me down by the aoor of the study."
The bedroom proved to be of respectable size when
190


The Strange House in Park Lane
one considers the smallness of the house. The bed was
all nicely made up, and there were two chairs in the
room, but the usual washstand and swing mirror were
not visible. However, seeing a curtain at the farther
end of the room, I drew it aside, and found, as I ex-
pected, a fixed lavatory in an alcove of perhaps four
feet deep by five in width. As the room was about fif-
teen feet wide, this left two-thirds of the space unac-
counted for. A moment later I opened a door which
exhibited a closet filled with clothes hanging on hooks.
This left a space of five feet between the clothes closet
and the lavatory. I thought at first that the entrance
to the secret stairway must have issued from the lava-
tory, but examining the boards closely, although they
sounded hollow to the knuckles, they were quite evi-
dently plain match boarding, and not a concealed door.
The entrance to the stairway, therefore, must issue from
the clothes closet. The right-hand wall proved similar
to the match boarding of the lavatory, so far as the
casual eye or touch was concerned, but I saw at once it
was a door. The latch turned out to be somewhat in-
geniously operated by one of the hooks which held a
pair of old trousers. I found that the hook, if pressed
upward, allowed the door to swing outward, over the
stairhead. Descending to the second floor, a similar
latch let me into a similar clothes closet in the room
beneath. The two rooms were identical in size, one di-
rectly above the other, the only difference being that
the lower-room door gave into the study, instead of into
the hall, as was the case with the upper chamber.
191


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
The study was extremely neat, either not much used,
or the abode of a very methodical man. There was
nothing on the table except a pile of that morning's
papers. I walked to the farther end, turned the key
in the lock, and came out upon the astonished Podgers.
"Well, I'm blowed!" exclaimed he.
"Quite so," I rejoined; "you've been tiptoeing past
an empty room for the last two weeks. Now, if you'll
come with me, Podgers, I'll show you how the trick
is done."
When he entered the study I locked the door once
more, and led the assumed butler, still tiptoeing through
force of habit, up the stair into the top bedroom, and
so out again, leaving everything exactly as we found
it. We went down the main stair to the front hall, and
there Podgers had my parcel of papers all neatly
wrapped up. This bundle I carried to my flat, gave one
of my assistants some instructions, and left him at work
on the papers.

192


CHAPTER XVI
THE QUEER SHOP IN TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD
TOOK a cab to the foot of Tottenham
Court Road, and walked up that street
till I came to J. Simpson's old curiosity
shop. After gazing at the well-filled win-
dows for some time, I stepped inside, hav-
ing selected a little iron crucifix displayed behind the
pane; the work of some ancient craftsman.
I knew at once from Podgers's description that I was
waited upon by the veritable respectable clerk who
brought the bag of money each night to Park Lane, and
who, I was certain, was no other than Ralph Summer-
trees himself.
There was nothing in his manner differing from
that of any other quiet salesman. The price of the cru-
cifix proved to be seven-and-six, and I threw down a
sovereign to pay for it.
"Do you mind the change being' all in silver, sir?"
he asked, and I answered without any eagerness, al-
though the question aroused a suspicion that had begun
to be allayed:
"Not in the least."
He gave me half a crown, three two-shilling pieces,
and four separate shillings, all coins being well-worn

193


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
silver of the realm, the undoubted inartistic product of
the reputable British Mint. This seemed to dispose of
the theory that he was palming off illegitimate money.
He asked me if I were interested in any particular
branch of antiquity, and I replied that my curiosity was
merely general, and exceedingly amateurish, whereupon
he invited me to look around. This I proceeded to do,
while he resumed the addressing and stamping of some
wrapped-up pamphlets which I surmised to be copies
of his catalogue.
He made no attempt either to watch me or to press
his wares upon me. I selected at random a little ink-
stand, and asked its price. It was two shillings, he said,
whereupon I produced my fraudulent five-shilling piece.
He took it, gave me the change without comment, and
the last doubt about his connection with coiners flickered
from my mind.
At this moment a young man came in who, I saw
at once, was not a customer. He walked briskly to the
farther end of the shop, and disappeared behind a par-
tition which had one pane of glass in it that gave an
outlook toward the front door.
"Excuse me a moment," said the shopkeeper, and
he followed the young man into the private office.
As I examined the curious heterogeneous collection
of things for sale, I heard the clink of coins being
poured out on the lid of a desk or an uncovered table,
and the murmur of voices floated out to me. I was now
near the entrance of the shop, and by a sleight-of-hand
trick, keeping the corner of my eye on the glass pane
194


The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road
of the private office, I removed the key of the front door
without a sound, and took an impression of it in wax,
returning the key to its place unobserved. At this mo-
ment another young man came in, and walked straight
past me into the private office. I heard him say:
"Oh, I beg pardon, Mr. Simpson! How are you,
Rogers?"
"Hello, Macpherson," saluted Rogers, who then
came out, bidding good night to Mr. Simpson, and de-
parted, whistling, down the street, but not before he had
repeated his phrase to another young man entering, to
whom he gave the name of Tyrrel.
I noted these three names in my mind. Two others
came in together, but I was compelled to content my-
self with memorizing their features, for I did not learn
their names. These men were evidently collectors, for
I heard the rattle of money in every case; yet here was
a small shop, doing apparently very little business, for
I had been within it for more than half an hour, and yet
remained the only customer. If credit were given, one
collector would certainly have been sufficient, yet five
had come in, and had poured their contributions into
the pile Summertrees was to take home with him that
night.
I determined to secure one of the pamphlets which
the man had been addressing. They were piled on a
shelf behind the counter, but I had no difficulty in reach-
ing across and taking the one on top, which I slipped
into my pocket. When the fifth young man went down
the street Summertrees himself emerged, and this time
195


The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road
"It is the one thing I am interested in," I replied;
"but unfortunately they often run into a lot of money."
"That is true," said Macpherson sympathetically,
"and I have here three books, one of which is an exem-
plification of what you say. This one costs a hundred
pounds. The last copy that was sold by auction in Lon-
don brought a hundred and twenty-three pounds. This
next one is forty pounds, and the third ten pounds. At
these prices I am certain you could not duplicate three
such treasures in any bookshop in Britain."
I examined them critically, and saw at once that
what he said was true. He was still standing on the op-
posite side of the table.
"Please take a chair, Mr. Macpherson. Do you
mean to say you go round London with a hundred and
fifty pounds' worth of goods under your arm in this
careless way?"
The young man laughed.
"I run very little risk, Mr. Webster. I don't sup-
pose anyone I meet imagines for a moment there is
more under my arm than perhaps a trio of volumes
I have picked up in the fourpenny box to take home
with me."
I lingered over the volume for which he asked a
hundred pounds, then said, looking across at him:
"How came you to be possessed of this book, for in-
stance?"
He turned upon me a fine, open countenance, and
answered without hesitation in the frankest possible
manner:
199


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"I am not in actual possession of it, Mr. Webster.
I am by way of being a connoisseur in rare and valuable
books myself, although, of course, I have little money
with which to indulge in the collection of them. I am
acquainted, however, with the lovers of desirable books
in different quarters of London. These three volumes,
for instance, are from the library of a private gentleman
in the West End. I have sold many books to him, and
he knows I am trustworthy. He wishes to dispose of
them at something under their real value, and has kindly
allowed me to conduct the negotiations. I make it my
business to find out those who are interested in rare
books, and by such trading I add considerably to my
income."
"How, for instance, did you learn that I was a bib-
liophile?"
Mr. Macpherson laughed genially.
"Well, Mr. Webster, I must confess that I chanced
it. I do that very often. I take a flat like this, and
send in my card to the name on the door. If I am
invited in, I ask the occupant the question I asked you
just now: 'Are you interested in rare editions?' If he
says no, I simply beg pardon and retire. If he says yes,
then I show my wares."
"I see," said I, nodding. What a glib young liar he
was, with that innocent face of his, and yet my next
question brought forth the truth.
"As this is the first time you have called upon me,
Mr. Macpherson, you have no objection to my making
some further inquiry, I suppose. Would you mind tell-

200


The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road
ing me the name of the owner of these books in the
West End?"
"His name is Mr. Ralph Summertrees, of Park
Lane."
"Of Park Lane? Ah, indeed!"
"I shall be glad to leave the books with you, Mr.
Webster, and if you care to make an appointment with
Mr. Summertrees, I am sure he will not object to say
a word in my favor."
"Oh, I do not in the least doubt it, and should not
think of troubling the gentleman."
"I was going to tell you," went on the young man,
"that I have a friend, a capitalist, who, in a way, is
my supporter; for, as I said, I have little money of my
own. I find it is often inconvenient for people to pay
down any considerable sum. When, however, I strike
a bargain, my capitalist buys the books, and I make
an arrangement with my customer to pay a certain
amount each week, and so even a large purchase is not
felt, as I make the installments small enough to suit
my client."
"You are employed during the day,11 take it?"
"Yes, I am a clerk in the City."
Again we were in the blissful realms of fiction!
"Suppose I take this book at ten pounds, what in-
stallments should I have to pay each week?"
"Oh, what you like, sir. Would five shillings be
too much?"
"I think not."
"Very well, sir; if you pay me five shillings now,
14 201


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
fat volumes, one of which I took down, and saw that
it contained similar lists running back several years. I
noticed on Mr. Macpherson's current list the name of
Lord Semptam, an eccentric old nobleman whom I knew
slightly. Then turning to the list immediately before
the current one the name was still there; I traced it
back through list after list until I found the first entry,
which was no less than three years previous, and there
Lord Semptam was down for a piece of furniture costing
fifty pounds, and on that account he had paid a pound
a week for more than three years, totaling a hundred
and seventy pounds at the least, and instantly the glo-
rious simplicity of the scheme dawned upon me, and I
became so interested in the swindle that I lit the gas,
fearing my little lamp would be exhausted before my
investigation ended, for it promised to be a long one.
In several instances the intended victim proved
shrewder than old Simpson had counted upon, and the
word "Settled" had been written on the line carrying
the name when the exact number of installments was
paid. But as these shrewd persons dropped out, others
took their places, and Simpson's dependence on their
absent-mindedness seemed to be justified in nine cases
out of ten. His collectors were collecting long after the
debt had been paid. In Lord Semptam's case, the pay-
ment had evidently become chronic, and the old man
was giving away his pound a week to the suave Mac-
pherson two years after his debt had been liquidated.
From the big volume I detached the loose leaf, dated
1893, which recorded Lord Semptam's purchase of a
204


The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road
carved table for fifty pounds, and on which he had been
paying a pound a week from that time to the date of
which I am writing, which was November, 1896. This
single document, taken from the file of three years pre-
vious, was not likely to be missed, as would have been
the case if I had selected a current sheet. I neverthe-
less made a copy of the names and addresses of Mac-
pherson's present clients; then, carefully placing every-
thing exactly as I had found it, I extinguished the gas,
and went out of the shop, locking the door behind me.
With the 1893 sheet in my pocket I resolved to prepare
a pleasant little surprise for my suave friend Macpher-
son when he called to get his next installment of five
shillings.
Late as was the hour when I reached Trafalgar
Square, I could not deprive myself of the felicity of
calling on Mr. Spenser Hale, who I knew was then on
duty. He never appeared at his best during office hours,
because officialism stiffened his stalwart frame. Men-
tally he was impressed with the importance of his po-
sition, and added to this he was not then allowed to
smoke his big black pipe and terrible tobacco. He re-
ceived me with the curtness I had been taught to expect
when I inflicted myself upon him at his office. He
greeted me abruptly with:
"I say, Valmont, how long do you expect to be on
this job?"
"What job?" I asked mildly.
"Oh, you know what I mean: the Summertrees
affair?"
205


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
anyone. We must arrange a complete surprise for Mac-
pherson. That is essential. Please make no move in
the matter at all until Wednesday night."
Spenser Hale, much impressed, nodded acquiescence,
and I took a polite leave of him.
208


CHAPTER XVII
THE ABSENT-MINDED COTERIE
HE question of lighting is an important
one in a room such as mine, and electricity
offers a good deal of scope to the ingen-
ious. Of this fact I have taken full ad-
vantage. I can manipulate the lighting
of my room so that any particular spot is bathed in
brilliancy, while the rest of the space remains in com-
parative gloom, and I arranged the lamps so that the
full force of their rays impinged against the door that
Wednesday evening, while I sat on one side of the table
in semidarkness and Hale sat on the other, with a light
beating down on him from above which gave him the
odd, sculptured look of a living statue of Justice, stern
and triumphant. Anyone entering the room would first
be dazzled by the light, and next would see the gigantic
form of Hale in the full uniform of his order.
When Angus Macpherson was shown into this room,
he was quite visibly taken aback, and paused abruptly
on the threshold, his gaze riveted on the huge policeman.
I think his first purpose was to turn and run, but the
door closed behind him, and he doubtless heard, as we
all did, the sound of the bolt being thrust in its place,
thus locking him in.

209


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"I—I beg your pardon," he stammered, " I expected
to meet Mr. Webster."
As he said this, I pressed the button under my table,
and was instantly enshrouded with light. A sickly smile
overspread the countenance of Macpherson as he caught
sight of me, and he made a very creditable attempt to
carry off the situation with nonchalance.
"Oh, there you are, Mr. Webster; I did not notice
you at first."
It was a tense moment. I spoke slowly and im-
pressively.
"Sir, perhaps you are not unacquainted with the
name of Eugene Valmont."
He replied brazenly:
"I am sorry to say, sir, I never heard of the gen-
tleman before."
At this came a most inopportune "Haw-haw" from
that blockhead Spenser Hale, completely spoiling the
dramatic situation I had elaborated with such thought
and care. It is little wonder the English possess no
drama, for they show scant appreciation of the sen-
sational moments in life; they are not quickly alive to the
lights and shadows of events.
"Haw-haw," brayed Spenser Hale, and at once re-
duced the emotional atmosphere to a fog of common-
place. However, what is a man to do? He must handle
the tools with which it pleases Providence to provide
him. I ignored Hale's untimely laughter.
"Sit down, sir," I said to Macpherson, and he
obeyed.
210


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Here the stupid Hale broke in with his:
"And remember, sir, that anything you say will
be"
"Excuse me, Mr. Hale," I interrupted hastily, "I
shall turn over the case to you in a very few moments,
but I ask you to remember our compact, and to leave
it for the present entirely in my hands. Now, Mr. Mac-
pherson, I want your confession, and I want it at once."
"Confession? Confederates?" protested Macpher-
son, with admirably simulated surprise. "I must say
you use extraordinary terms, Mr.—Mr.— What did you
say the name was?"
"Haw-haw," roared Hale. "His name is Monsieur
Valmont."
"I implore you, Mr. Hale, to leave this man to me
for a very few moments. Now, Macpherson, what have
you to say in your defense?"
"Where nothing criminal has been alleged, Monsieur
Valmont, I see no necessity for defense. If you wish
me to admit that somehow you have acquired a num-
ber of details regarding our business, I am perfectly will-
ing to do so, and to subscribe to their accuracy. If you
will be good enough to let me know of what you com-
plain, I shall endeavor to make the point clear to you, if
I can. There has evidently been some misapprehension,
but for the life of me, without further explanation, I
am as much in a fog as I was on my way coming here,
for it is getting a little thick outside."
Macpherson certainly was conducting himself with
great discretion, and presented, quite unconsciously, a
212


The Absent-minded Coterie
much more diplomatic figure than my friend Spenser
Hale, sitting stiffly opposite me. His tone was one of
mild expostulation, mitigated by the intimation that all
misunderstanding speedily would be cleared away. To
outward view he offered a perfect picture of innocence,
neither protesting too much nor too little. I had, how-
ever, another surprise in store for him, a trump card,
as it were, and I played it down on the table.
"There!" I cried with vim, "have you ever seen
that sheet before?"
He glanced at it without offering to take it in his
hand.
"Oh, yes," he said, "that has been abstracted from
our file. It is what I call my visiting list."
"Come, come, sir," I cried sternly, "you refuse to
confess, but I warn you we know all about it. You
never heard of Dr. Willoughby, I suppose?"
"Yes, he is the author of the silly pamphlet on
Christian Science."
"You are in the right, Mr. Macpherson; on Chris-
tian Science and Absent-Mindedness."
"Possibly. I haven't read it for a long while."
"Have you ever met this learned doctor, Mr. Mac-
pherson?"
"Oh, yes. Dr. Willoughby is the pen name of Mr.
Summertrees. He believes in Christian Science and
that sort of thing, and writes about it."
"Ah, really. We are getting your confession bit by
bit, Mr. Macpherson. I think it would be better to be
quite frank with us."
213


The Absent-minded Coterie
scheme. The absent-minded league, as one might call
them. Most ingenious. Summertrees, if he had any
sense of humor, which he hasn't, would be rather taken
by the idea that his innocent fad for Christian Science
had led him to be suspected of obtaining money under
false pretenses. But, really, there are no pretensions
about the matter at all. As I understand it, I simply
call and receive the money through the forgetfulness of
the persons on my list, but where I think you would
have both Summertrees and myself, if there was any-
thing in your audacious theory, would be an indictment
for conspiracy. Still, I quite see how the mistake arises.
You have jumped to the conclusion that we sold nothing
to Lord Semptam except that carved table three years
ago. I have pleasure in pointing out to you that his
lordship is a frequent customer of ours, and has had
many things from us at one time or another. Sometimes
he is in our debt; sometimes we are in his. We keep a
sort of running contract with him by which he pays
us a pound a week. He and several other customers
deal on the same plan, and in return, for an income that
we can count upon, they get the first offer of anything
in which they are supposed to be interested. As I have
told you, we call these sheets in the office our visiting
lists, but to make the visiting lists complete you need
what we term our encyclopedia. We call it that be-
cause it is in so many volumes; a volume for each year,
running back I don't know how long. You will notice
little figures here from time to time above the amount
stated on this visiting list. These figures refer to the

215


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
page of the encyclopedia for the current year, and on
that page is noted the new sale and the amount of it,
as it might be set down, say, in a ledger."
"That is a very entertaining explanation, Mr. Mac-
pherson. I suppose this encyclopedia, as you call it,
is in the shop at Tottenham Court Road?"
"Oh, no, sir. Each volume of the encyclopedia is
self-locking. These books contain the real secret of our
business, and they are kept in the safe at Mr. Sum-
mertrees's house in Park Lane. Take Lord Semptam's
account, for instance. You will find in faint figures
under a certain date, 102. If you turn to page 102 of
the encyclopedia for that year, you will then see a list
of what Lord Semptam has bought, and the prices he
was charged for them. It is really a very simple matter.
If you will allow me to use your telephone for a moment,
I will ask Mr. Summertrees, who has not yet begun
dinner, to bring with him here the volume for 1893, and
within a quarter of an hour you will be perfectly satisfied
that everything is quite legitimate."
I confess that the young man's naturalness and con-
fidence staggered me, the more so as I saw by the sar-
castic smile on Hale's lips that he did not believe a single
word spoken. A portable telephone stood on the table,
and as Macpherson finished his explanation, he reached
over and drew it toward him. Then Spenser Hale
interfered.
"Excuse me," he said, "I'll do the telephoning.
What is the call number of Mr. Summertrees?"
One forty Hyde Park.

216


The Absent-minded Coterie
Hale at once called up Central, and presently was
answered from Park Lane. We heard him say:
"Is this the residence of Mr. Summertrees? Oh,
is that you, Podgers? Is Mr. Summertrees in? Very
well. This is Hale. I am in Valmont's flat—Imperial
Flats—you know. Yes, where you went with me the
other day. Very well, go to Mr. Summertrees, and say
to him that Mr. Macpherson wants the encyclopedia for
1893. Do you get that? Yes, encyclopedia. Oh, don't
understand what it is. Mr. Macpherson. No, don't
mention my name at all. Just say Mr. Macpherson
wants the encyclopedia for the year 1893, and that
you are to bring it. Yes, you may tell him that Mr,
Macpherson is at Imperial Flats, but don't mention my
name at all. Exactly. As soon as he gives you the
book, get into a cab, and come here as quickly as possible
with it. If Summertrees doesn't want to let the book
go, then tell him to come with you. If he won't do that,
place him under arrest, and bring both him and the book
here. All right. Be as quick as you can; we're waiting."
Macpherson made no protest against Hale's use of
the telephone; he merely sat back in his chair with a
resigned expression on his face which, if painted on
canvas, might have been entitled, "The Falsely Ac-
cused." When Hale rang off, Macpherson said:
"Of course you know your own business best, but
if your man arrests Summertrees, he will make you
the laughingstock of London. There is such a thing
as unjustifiable arrest, as well as getting money under
false pretenses, and Mr. Summertrees is not the man to
15 217


The Absent-minded Coterie
"While we are waiting, Monsieur Valmont, may I
remind you that you owe me five shillings?"
I laughed, took the coin from my pocket, and paid
him, whereupon he thanked me.
"Are you connected with Scotland Yard, Monsieur
Valmont?" asked Macpherson, with the air of a man
trying to make conversation to bridge over a tedious
interval; but before I could reply Hale blurted out:
"Not likely!"
"You have no official standing as a detective, then,
Monsieur Valmont?"
"None whatever," I replied quickly, thus getting in
my oar ahead of Hale.
"That is a loss to our country," pursued this ad-
mirable young man, with evident sincerity.
I began to see I could make a good deal of so clever
a fellow if he came under my tuition.
"The blunders of our police," he went on, "are
something deplorable. If they would but take lessons
in strategy, say, from France, their unpleasant duties
would be so much more acceptably performed, with
much less discomfort to their victims."
"France," snorted Hale in derision, "why, they call
a man guilty there until he's proven innocent."
"Yes, Mr. Hale, and the same seems to be the case
in Imperial Flats. You have quite made up your mind
that Mr. Summertrees is guilty, and will not be content
until he proves his innocence. I venture to predict that
you will hear from him before long in a manner that
may astonish you."
219


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Hale grunted and looked at his watch. The minutes
passed very slowly as we sat there smoking and at last
even I began to get uneasy. Macpherson, seeing our
anxiety, said that when he came in the fog was almost
as thick as it had been the week before, and that there
might be some difficulty in getting a cab. Just as he was
speaking the door was unlocked from the outside, and
Podgers entered, bearing a thick volume in his hand.
This he gave to his superior, who turned over its pages
in amazement, and then looked at the back, crying:
"' Encyclopedia of Sport, 1893 '! What sort of a
joke is this, Mr. Macpherson?"
There was a pained look on Mr. Macpherson's face
as he reached forward and took the book. He said
with a sigh:
"If you had allowed me to telephone, Mr. Hale, I
should have made it perfectly plain to Summertrees what
was wanted. I might have known this mistake was lia-
ble to occur. There is an increasing demand for out-of-
date books of sport, and no doubt Mr. Summertrees
thought this was what I meant. There is nothing for it
but to send your man back to Park Lane and tell Mr.
Summertrees that what we want is the locked volume
of accounts for 1893, which we call the encyclopedia.
Allow me to write an order that will bring it. Oh, I'll
show you what I have written before your man takes it,"
he said, as Hale stood ready to look over his shoulder.
On my note paper he dashed off a request such as
he had outlined, and handed it to Hale, who read it and
gave it to Podgers.
220


The Absent-minded Coterie
"Take that to Summertrees, and get back as quickly
as possible. Have you a cab at the door?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it foggy outside?"
"Not so much, sir, as it was an hour ago. No diffi-
culty about the traffic now, sir."
"Very well, get back as soon as you can."
Podgers saluted, and left with the book under his
arm. Again the door was locked, and again we sat
smoking in silence until the stillness was broken by
the tinkle of the telephone. Hale put the receiver to
his ear.
"Yes, this is the Imperial Flats. Yes. Valmont. Oh,
yes; Macpherson is here. What? Out of what? Can't
hear you. Out of print. What, the encyclopedia's out
of print? Who is that speaking? Dr. Willoughby;
thanks."
Macpherson rose as if he would go to the telephone,
but instead (and he acted so quietly that I did not notice
what he was doing until the thing was done) he picked
up the sheet which he called his visiting list, and walking
quite without haste, held it in the glowing coals of the
fireplace until it disappeared in a flash of flame up the
chimney. I sprang to my feet indignant, but too late
to make even a motion toward saving the sheet. Mac-
pherson regarded us both with that self-depreciatory
smile which had several times lighted up his face.
"How dared you burn that sheet?" I demanded.
"Because, Monsieur Valmont, it did not belong to
you; because you do not belong to Scotland Yard;
221


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
because you stole it; because you had no right to it;
and because you have no official standing in this coun-
try. If it had been in Mr. Hale's possession I should
not have dared, as you put it, to destroy the sheet, but
as this sheet was abstracted from my master's premises
by you, an entirely unauthorized person, whom he would
have been justified in shooting dead if he had found you
housebreaking, and you had resisted him on his discov-
ery, I took the liberty of destroying the document. I have
always held that these sheets should not have been kept,
for, as has been the case, if they fell under the scrutiny
of so intelligent a person as Eugene Valmont, improper
inferences might have been drawn. Mr. Summertrees,
however, persisted in keeping them, but made this con-
cession, that if I ever telegraphed him or telephoned him
the word 'Encyclopedia,' he would at once burn these
records, and he, on his part, was to telegraph or tele-
phone to me 'The encyclopedia is out of print,' where-
upon I would know that he had succeeded.
"Now, gentlemen, open this door, which will save
me the trouble of forcing it. Either put me formally
under arrest, or cease to restrict my liberty. I am very
much obliged to Mr. Hale for telephoning, and I have
made no protest to so gallant a host as Monsieur Val-
mont is, because of the locked door. However, the farce
is now terminated. The proceedings I have sat through
were entirely illegal, and if you will pardon me, Mr.
Hale, they have been a little too French to go down
here in old England, or to make a report in the news-
papers that would be quite satisfactory to your chiefs. I
222





The Absent-minded Coterie
demand either my formal arrest or the unlocking of that
door."
In silence I pressed a button, and my man threw
open the door. Macpherson walked to the threshold,
paused, and looked back at Spenser Hale, who sat there
silent as a sphinx.
"Good evening, Mr. Hale."
There being no reply, he turned to me with the same
ingratiating smile:
"Good evening, Monsieur Eugene Valmont," he said.
"I shall give myself the pleasure of calling next Wednes-
day at six for my five shillings."
323


CHAPTER XVIII
THE SAD CASE OF SOPHIA BROOKS
ELEBRATED critics have written with
scorn of what they call "the long arm
of coincidence" in fiction. Coincidence
is supposed to be the device of a novelist
who does not possess ingenuity enough to
construct a book without it. In France our incomparable
writers pay no attention to this, because they are gifted
with a keener insight into real life than is the case with
the British. The superb Charles Dickens, possibly as
well known in France as he is wherever the English lan-
guage is read, and who loved French soil and the French
people, probably probed deeper into the intricacies of
human character than any other novelist of modern
times, and if you read his works, you will see that he
continually makes use of coincidence. The experience
that has come to me throughout my own strange and
varied career convinces me that coincidence happens in
real life with exceeding frequency, and this fact is es-
pecially borne in upon me when I set out to relate my
conflict with the Rantremly ghost, which wrought star-
tling changes upon the lives of two people, one an ob-
jectionable, domineering man, and the other a humble
and crushed woman. Of course, there was a third per-

224


The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks
son, and the consequences that came to him were the
most striking of all, as you will learn, if you do me the
honor to read this account of the episode.
So far as coincidence is concerned, there was first
the arrival of the newspaper clipping, then the coming
of Sophia Brooks; and when that much-injured woman
left my flat I wrote down this sentence on a sheet of
paper:
"Before the week is out, I predict that Lord Ran-
tremly himself will call to see me."
Next day my servant brought in the card of Lord
Rantremly.
I must begin with the visit of Sophia Brooks, for
though that comes second, yet I had paid no attention
in particular to the newspaper clipping until the lady
told her story. My man brought me a typewritten
sheet of paper on which were inscribed the words:
"Sophia Brooks, Typewriting and Translating Of-
fice, First Floor, No. 51, Beaumont Street, Strand, Lon-
don, W.C."
I said to my servant:
"Tell the lady as kindly as possible that I have
no typewriting work to give out and that in fact I
keep a stenographer and typewriting machine on the
premises."
A few moments later my man returned, and said
the lady wished to see me, not about typewriting, but
regarding a case in which she hoped to interest me. I
was still in some hesitation about admitting her, for my
transactions had now risen to a higher plane than when *
225


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
I was new to London. My expenses were naturally
very heavy, and it was not possible for me, in justice
to myself, to waste time in commissions from the poor,
which even if they resulted successfully meant little
money added to my banking account, and often nothing
at all, because the client was unable to pay. As I re-
marked before, I possess a heart the most tender, and
therefore must, greatly to my grief, steel myself against
the enlisting of my sympathy, which, alas! has fre-
quently led to my financial loss. Still, sometimes the ap-
parently poor are involved in matters of extreme im-
portance, and England is so eccentric a country that
one may find himself at fault if he closes his door too
harshly. Indeed, ever since my servant, in the utmost
good faith, threw downstairs the persistent and tattered
beggarman, who he learned later to his sorrow was ac-
tually his grace the Duke of Ventnor, I have always
cautioned my subordinates not to judge too hastily from
appearances.
"Show the lady in," I said, and there came to me,
hesitating, backward, abashed, a middle-aged woman,
dressed with distressing plainness, when one thinks of
the charming costumes to be seen on a Parisian boule-
vard. Her subdued manner was that of one to whom
the world had been cruel. I rose, bowed profoundly,
and placed a chair at her disposal, with the air I should
have used if my caller had been a royal princess. I
claim no credit for this; it is of my nature. There you
behold Eugene Valmont. My visitor was a woman.
Voila!
226


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
the castle had been battered down by Cromwell, and later
it again proved the refuge of a Stuart when the Pre-
tender made it a temporary place of concealment. The
new Lord Rantremly, it seemed, had determined to
demolish this ancient stronghold, so interesting archi-
tecturally and historically, and to build with its stones
a modern residence. Against this act of vandalism the
writer strongly protested, and suggested that England
should acquire the power which France constantly ex-
erts, in making an historical monument of an edifice so
interwoven with the fortunes of the country.
"Well, madam," I said, "all this extract alludes to
is the coming demolition of Rantremly Castle. Is that
the tragedy of which you speak?"
"Oh, no," she exclaimed; "I mean the death of
the eleventh Lord Rantremly about six weeks ago. For
ten years Lord Rantremly lived practically alone in the
castle. Servants would not remain there because the
place was haunted, and well it may be, for a terrible
family the Rantremlys have been, and a cruel, as I shall
be able to tell you. Up to a month and a half ago Lord
Rantremly was waited on by a butler older than himself,
and, if possible, more wicked. One morning this old
butler came up the stairs from the kitchen with Lord
Rantremly's breakfast on a silver tray, as was his cus-
tom. His lordship always partook of breakfast in his
own room. It is not known how the accident happened,
as the old servant was going up the stairs instead of
coming down, but the steps are very smooth and slippery,
and without a carpet; at any rate, he seems to have

228


The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks
fallen from the top to the bottom, and lay there with a
broken neck. Lord Rantremly, who was very deaf,
seemingly did not hear the crash, and it is supposed that
after ringing and ringing in vain, and doubtless work-
ing himself into a violent fit of temper—alas! too fre-
quent an occurrence—the old nobleman got out of bed,
and walked barefooted down the stair, upon the body
of his ancient servant and confederate. There the man
who comes in every morning to light the fires found
them, the servant dead, and Lord Rantremly helpless
from an attack of paralysis. The physicians say that
only his eyes seemed alive, and they were filled with a
great fear, and, indeed, that is not to be wondered at,
after his wicked, wicked life. His right hand was but
partially disabled, and with that he tried to scribble
something which proved indecipherable. And so he
died, and those who attended him at his last mo-
ments say that if ever a soul had a taste of future
punishment before it left this earth, it was the soul
of Lord Rantremly as it shone through those terror-
stricken eyes."
Here the woman stopped, with a catch in her breath,
as if the fear of that grim deathbed had communicated
itself to her. I interjected calmness into an emotional
situation by remarking in a commonplace tone:
"And it is the present Lord Rantremly who pro-
poses to destroy the castle, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Is he the son of the late lord?"
"No; he is a distant relative. The branch of the
229


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
family to which he belongs has been engaged in com-
merce, and, I believe, its members are very wealthy."
"Well, madam, no doubt this is all extremely in-
teresting and rather grewsome. In what way are you
concerned in these occurrences?"
"Ten years ago I replied to an advertisement, there
being required one who knew shorthand, who possessed
a typewriting machine and a knowledge of French, to
act as secretary to a nobleman. I was at that time
twenty-three years old, and for two years had been trying
to earn my living in London through the typing of manu-
script. But I was making a hard struggle of it, so I
applied for this position and got it. There are in the
library of Rantremly Castle many documents relating
to the Stuart exile in France. His lordship wished these
documents assorted and catalogued, as well as copies
taken of each. Many of the letters were in the French
language, and these I was required to translate and
type. It was a somber place of residence, but the salary
was good, and I saw before me work enough to keep me
busy for years. Besides this, the task was extremely
congenial, and I became absorbed in it, being young and
romantically inclined. Here I seemed to live in the midst
of these wonderful intrigues of long ago. Documents
passed through my hands whose very possession at one
period meant capital danger, bringing up even now
visions of block, ax, and masked headsman. It seemed
strange to me that so sinister a man as Lord Rantremly,
who, I had heard, cared for nothing but drink and gam-
bling, should have desired to promote this historical re-
230


The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks
search, and, indeed, I soon found he felt nothing but
contempt for it. However, he had undertaken it at the
instance of his only son, then a young man of my own
age, at Oxford University.
"Lord Rantremly at that time was sixty-five years
old. His countenance was dark, harsh, and imperious,
and his language brutal. He indulged in frightful out-
bursts of temper, but he paid so well for service that
there was no lack of it, as there has been since the ghost
appeared some years ago. He was very tall and of com-
manding appearance, but had a deformity in the shape
of a clubfoot, and walked with the halting step of those
so afflicted. There were at that time servants in plenty
at the castle, for although a tradition existed that the
ghost of the founder of the house trod certain rooms,
this ghost, it was said, never demonstrated its presence
when the living representative of the family was a man
with a clubfoot. Tradition further affirmed that if this
clubfooted ghost allowed its halting footsteps to be
heard while the reigning lord possessed a similar deform-
ity, the conjunction foreshadowed the passing of title and
estates to a stranger. The ghost haunted the castle only
when it was occupied by a descendant whose two feet
were normal. It seems that the founder of the house
was a clubfooted man, and this disagreeable peculiarity
often missed one generation, and sometimes two, while
at other times both father and son had clubfeet, as was
the case with the late Lord Rantremly and the young
man at Oxford. I am not a believer in the supernatural,
of course; but, nevertheless, it is strange that within the
231


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
past few years everyone residing in the castle has heard
the clubfooted ghost, and now title and estates descend
to a family that were utter strangers to the Ran-
tremlys."
"Well, madam, this also sounds most alluring, and
were my time not taken up with affairs more material
than those to which you allude, I should be content to
listen all day, but as it is—" I spread my hands and
shrugged my shoulders.
The woman with a deep sigh said:
"I am sorry to have taken so long, but I wished
you to understand the situation, and now I will come
direct to the heart of the case. I worked alone in the
library, as I told you, much interested in what I was
doing. The chaplain, a great friend of Lord Rantremly's
son, and, indeed, a former tutor of his, assisted me with
the documents that were in Latin, and a friendship
sprang up between us. He was an elderly man, and ex-
tremely unworldly. Lord Rantremly never concealed his
scorn of this clergyman, but did not interfere with him
because of the son.
"My work went on very pleasantly up to the time
that Reginald, the heir of his lordship, came down from
Oxford. Then began the happiest days of a life tliat
has been otherwise full of hardships and distress. Reg-
inald was as different as possible from his father. In
one respect only did he bear any resemblance to that
terrible old man, and this resemblance was the deformity
of a clubfoot, a blemish which one soon forgot when
one came to know the gentle and high-minded nature of
232


The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks
tation, swearing that if I did not do exactly as he told
me, he would finish his son, as he put it. I sat down
at the machine, and he dictated a letter to himself, de-
manding two thousand pounds paid to me, otherwise I
should claim that I was the wife of his son, secretly
married. This, placing pen and ink before me, he com-
pelled me to sign, and when I had done so, pleading to
be allowed to see my husband, if only for a moment,
I thought he was going to strike me, for he shook his
fist in my face, and used words which were appalling
to hear. That was the last I ever saw of Lord Ran-
tremly, my husband, the clergyman, or the butler. I
was at once sent off to London with my belongings,
the butler himself buying my ticket, and flinging
a handful of sovereigns into my lap as the train
moved out."
Here the woman stopped, buried her face in her
hands, and began to weep.
"Have you done nothing about this for the past ten
years?"
She shook her head.
"What could I do?" she gasped. "I had little
money, and no friends. Who would believe my story?
Besides this, Lord Rantremly retained possession of a
letter, signed by myself, that would convict me of at-
tempted blackmail, while the butler would swear to any-
thing against me."
"You have no marriage certificate, of course?"
"No."
"What has become of the clergyman?"
235


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"I do not know."
"And what of Lord Rantremly's son?"
"It was announced that he had gone on a voyage to
Australia for his health in a sailing ship, which was
wrecked on the African coast, and everyone on board
lost."
"What is your own theory?"
"Oh, my husband was killed by the blow given him
in the chapel."
"Madam, that does not seem credible. A blow from
the fist seldom kills."
"But he fell backward, and his head struck the
sharp stone steps at the foot of the altar. I know my
husband was dead when the butler and his father car-
ried him out."
"You think the clergyman also was murdered?"
"I am sure of it. Both master and servant were
capable of any crime or cruelty."
"You received no letters from the young man?"
"No. You see, during our short friendship we were
constantly together, and there was no need of corre-
spondence."
"Well, madam, what do you expect of me?"
"I hoped you would investigate, and find perhaps
where Reginald and the clergyman are buried. I realize
that I have no proof, but in that way my strange story
will be corroborated."
I leaned back in my chair and looked at her. Truth
to tell, I only partially credited her story myself, and
yet I was positive she believed every word of it. Ten
X 236



'He fell backward and his head struck the sharp stone at the foot of the altar.'"





The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
under an impalpable shadow for ten years. On several
occasions mysterious hints have reached me that in some
manner I left the castle under a cloud. If Lord Ran-
tremly will destroy the letter which I was compelled to
write under duress, and if he will give me a written
acknowledgment that there was nothing to be alleged
against me during my stay in the castle, he may
enjoy his money in peace for all of me. I want none
of it."
"Have you asked him to do this?"
"Yes. He refuses to give up or destroy the letter,
although I told him in what circumstances it had been
written. But, desiring to be fair, he said he would allow
me a pound a week for life, entirely through his own
generosity."
"And this you refused?"
"Yes, I refused."
"Madam, I regret to say that I cannot see my way
to do anything with regard to what I admit is very
unjust usage. We have absolutely nothing to go upon
except your unsupported word. Lord Rantremly was
perfectly right when he said no one would credit your
story. I could not go down to Rantremly Castle and
make investigations there. I should have no right upon
the premises at all, and would get into instant trouble as
an interfering trespasser. I beg you to heed my advice,
and accept his annuity."
Sophia Brooks, with that mild obstinacy of which
I had perceived indications during her recital, slowly
shook her head.


The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks
"You have been very kind to listen for so long," she
said, and then, with a curt " Good day!" turned and left
the room. On the sheet of paper underneath her address
I wrote this prophecy: " Before the week is out, I pre-
dict that Lord Rantremly himself will call to see me."
239


A Commission from Lord Rantremly
stature, but he did not possess the clubfoot, which was
one advantage. He seated himself before I had time to
offer him a chair, and kept on his hat in my presence,
which he would not have done if he had either been a
genuine nobleman or a courteous business man.
"I am Lord Rantremly," he announced pompously,
which announcement was quite unnecessary, because I
held his card in my hand.
"Quite so, my lord. And you have come to learn
whether or no I can lay the ghost in that old castle to
the north which bears your name?"
"Well, I'm blessed!" cried his lordship, agape.
"How could you guess that?"
"Oh, it is not a guess, but rather a choice of two
objects, either of which might bring you to my rooms.
I chose the first motive because I thought you might
prefer to arrange the second problem with your solicitor,
and he doubtless told you that Miss Sophia Brooks's
claim was absurd; that you were quite right in refusing
to give up or destroy the typewritten letter she had
signed ten years ago, and that it was weakness on your
part, without consulting him, to offer her an annuity of
fifty-two pounds a year."
Long before this harangue was finished, which I
uttered in an easy and nonchalant tone of voice, as if re-
citing something that everybody knew, his lordship stood
on his feet again, staring at me like a man thunderstruck.
This gave me the opportunity of exercising that polite-
ness which his abrupt entrance and demeanor had fore-
stalled. I rose and, bowing, said:
241


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"I pray you to be seated, my lord."
He dropped into the chair, rather than sat down
in it.
"And now," I continued, with the utmost suavity,
stretching forth my hand, "may I place your hat on
this shelf out of the way, where it will not incommode
you during our discourse?"
Like a man in a dream, he took his hat from his
head, and passively handed it to me, and after placing
it in safety I resumed my chair with the comfortable
feeling that his lordship and I were much nearer a
plane of equality than when he entered the room.
"How about the ghost with a clubfoot, my lord?"
said I genially. "May I take it that in the City, that sen-
sible, commercial portion of London, no spirits are be-
lieved in except those sold over the bars?"
"If you mean," began his lordship, struggling to
reach his dignity once more, "if you mean to ask if
there is any man fool enough to place credit in the
story of a ghost, I answer no. I am a practical man,
sir. I now possess in the north property represent-
ing, in farming lands, in shooting rights, and what not,
a locked-up capital of many thousand pounds. As
you seem to know everything, sir, perhaps you are
aware that I propose to build a modern mansion on
the estate."
"Yes; I saw the letter in the Times."
"Very well, sir. It has come to a fine pass if, in
this country of law and the rights of property, a man
may not do what he pleases with his own,"
242


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Because of an absurd belief that the place is
haunted. I could let it to-morrow at a good figure, if
it were not for that rumor."
"But surely sensible men do not pay any attention
to such a rumor?"
"Sensible men may not, but sensible men are often
married to silly women, and the women object. It is
only the other day that I was in negotiation with Bates,
of Bates, Sturgeon & Bates, a very wealthy man, quite
able and willing to pay the price I demanded. He cared
nothing about the alleged ghost, but his family absolutely
refused to have anything to do with the place, and so
the arrangement fell through."
"What is your theory regarding this ghost, my
lord?"
He answered me with some impatience.
"How can a sane man hold a theory about a ghost?
I can, however, advance a theory regarding the noises
heard in the castle. For years that place has been the
resort of questionable characters."
"I understand the Rantremly family is a very old
one," I commented innocently, but his lordship did not
notice the innuendo.
"Yes, we are an old family," he went on with great
complacency. "The castle, as perhaps you are aware,
is a huge, ramshackle place, honeycombed underneath
with cellars. I dare say in the old days some of these
cellars and caves were the resort of smugglers, and the
receptacle of their contraband wares, doubtless with the
full knowledge of my ancestors, who, I regret to admit,


A Commission from Lord Rantremly
morrow morning. I am commissioned by Lord Ran-
tremly to investigate the supposed presence of the ghost
in that moldering dwelling. I am allowed to bring with
me whatever assistants I require, and am assured that
no one in the neighborhood can be retained who dare
sleep in the castle. You know the place very well, hav-
ing lived there, so I shall be glad of your assistance, if
you will come. If there is any person whom you can
trust, and who is not afraid of ghosts, I shall be delighted
to escort you both to Rantremly Castle to-morrow."
"There is an old woman," she said, " who comes here
to clear up my room, and do whatever I wish done.
She is so deaf that she will hear no ghosts, and besides,
monsieur, she can cook."
I laughed in acknowledgment of this last sly dig
at me' as the English say.
"That will do excellently," I replied, rising, and
placing a ten-pound note before her. "I suggest,
madam, that you purchase with this anything you may
need. My man has instructions to send by passenger
train a huge case of provisions, which should arrive
there before us. If you could make it convenient to
meet me at Euston Station about a quarter of an hour
before the train leaves, we may be able to discover all
you wish to know regarding the mystery of Rantremly
Castle."
Sophia Brooks accepted the money without demur,
and thanked me. I could see that her thin hands were
trembling with excitement as she put the crackling bank
note into her purse.
17 249


The Ghost with the Clubfoot
should spend the night in investigation, and might possi-
bly have some questions to ask him, questions which
none but the chief constable could answer. The good
man promised, and left us rather hurriedly, the driver
of the wagonette galloping his horse down the long,
somber avenue toward the village outside the gates.
I found Sophia Brooks but a doleful companion, and
of very little assistance that evening. She seemed over-
come by her remembrances. She had visited the library
where her former work was done, doubtless the scene
of her brief love episode, and she returned with red eyes
and trembling chin, telling me haltingly that the great
tome from which she was working ten years ago, and
which had been left open on the solid library table, was
still there exactly as she had placed it before being
forced to abandon her work. For a decade apparently
no one had entered that library. I could not but sympa-
thize with the poor lady, thus revisiting, almost herself
like a ghost, the haunted arena of her short happiness.
But though she proved so dismal a companion, the old
woman who came with her was a treasure. Having
lived all her life in some semislum near the Strand, and
having rarely experienced more than a summer's-day
glimpse of the country, the long journey had delighted
her, and now this rambling old castle in the midst of
the forest seemed to realize all the dreams which a peru-
sal of half-penny fiction had engendered in her imagina-
tion. She lit a fire, and cooked for us a very creditable
supper, bustling about the place, singing to herself in a
high key.
251


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Shortly after supper Sophia Brooks, exhausted as
much by her emotions and memories as by her long
journey of that day, retired to rest. After being left
to myself I smoked some cigarettes, and finished a bottle
of superb claret which stood at my elbow. A few hours
before I had undoubtedly fallen in the estimation of the
stolid constable when, instead of asking him questions
regarding the tragedy, I had inquired the position of the
wine cellar, and obtained possession of the key that
opened its portal. The sight of bin after bin of dust-
laden, cobwebbed bottles did more than anything else to
reconcile me to my lonely vigil. There were some nota-
ble vintages represented in that dismal cavern.
It was perhaps half past ten or eleven o'clock when
I began my investigations. I had taken the precaution
to provide myself with half a dozen so-called electric
torches before I left London. These give illumination
for twenty or thirty hours steadily, and much longer if
the flash is used only now and then. The torch is. a thick
tube, perhaps a foot and a half long, with a bull's-eye
of glass at one end. By pressing a spring the electric
rays project like the illumination of an engine's head-
light. A release of the spring causes instant darkness.
I have found this invention useful in that it concentrates
the light on any particular spot desired, leaving all the
surroundings in gloom, so that the mind is not distracted,
even unconsciously, by the eye beholding more than is
necessary at the moment. One pours a white light over
any particular substance as water is poured from the
nozzle of a hose.
252


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
the music that had been played on it. It was easy to
understand how a superstitious population came to be-
lieve in its being haunted; in fact, I found by experiment
that if one trod quickly along the uncovered floor of the
corridor, and stopped suddenly, one seemed to hear
the sound of steps still going on.
I now returned to the stair head, and examined the
bare polished boards with most gratifying results.
Amazed at having learned so much in such a short time,
I took from my pocket the paper on which the dying
nobleman had attempted to write with his half-paralyzed
hand. The chief constable had given the document to
me, and I sat on the stair head, spread it out on the
floor and scrutinized it. It was all but meaningless. Ap-
parently two words and the initial letter of a third had
been attempted. Now, however grotesque a piece of
writing may be, you can sometimes decipher it by hold-
ing it at various angles, as those puzzles are solved which
remain a mystery when gazed at direct. By partially
closing the eyes you frequently catch the intent, as in
those pictures where a human figure is concealed among
the outlines of trees and leaves. I held the paper at
arm's length, and with the electric light gleaming upon
it, examined it at all angles, with eyes wide open, and
eyes half closed. At last, inclining it away from me, I
saw that the words were intended to mean, "The Se-
cret." The secret, of course, was what he was trying
to impart, but he had apparently got no farther than
the title of it. Deeply absorbed in my investigation, I
was never more startled in my life than to hear in the
254


The Ghost with the Clubfoot
stillness down the corridor the gasped words, "Oh,
God!"
I swept round my light, and saw leaning against the
wall, in an almost fainting condition, Sophia Brooks, her
eyes staring like those of a demented person, and her
face white as any ghost's could have been. Wrapped
round her was a dressing gown. I sprang to my
feet.
"What are you doing there?" I cried.
"Oh, is that you, Monsieur Valmont? Thank God,
thank God! I thought I was going insane. I saw a
hand, a bodiless hand, holding a white sheet of paper."
"The hand was far from bodiless, madam, for it
belonged to me. But why are you here? It must be
near midnight."
"It is midnight," answered the woman. "I came
here because I heard my husband call me three times
distinctly, ' Sophia, Sophia, Sophia!' just like that."
"Nonsense, madam," I said, with an asperity I sel-
dom use where the fair sex is concerned; but I began to
see that this hysterical creature was going to be in the
way during a research that called for coolness and calm-
ness. I was sorry I had invited her to come. "Non-
sense, madam, you have been dreaming."
"Indeed, Monsieur Valmont, I have not. I have not
even been asleep, and I heard the words quite plainly.
You must not think I am either mad or superstitious."
I thought she was both, and next moment she gave
further evidence of it, running suddenly forward, and
clutching me by the arm.
255


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Listen! listen!" she whispered. "You hear noth-
ing?"
"Nonsense!" I cried again, almost roughly, for my
patience was at an end, and I wished to go on with my
inquiry undisturbed.
"Hist, hist!" she whispered; "listen!" holding up
her finger. We both stood like statues, and suddenly
I felt that curious creeping of the scalp which shows
that even the most civilized among us have not yet
eliminated superstitious fear. In the tense silence I
heard some one slowly coming up the stair; I heard the
halting step of a lame man. In the tension of the mo-
ment I had allowed the light to go out; now recovering
myself, I pressed the spring, and waved its rays back-
ward and forward down the stairway. The space was
entirely empty, yet the hesitating footsteps approached
us, up and up. I could almost have sworn on which
step they last struck. At this interesting moment So-
phia Brooks uttered a piercing shriek and collapsed into
my arms, sending the electric torch rattling down the
steps, and leaving us in impenetrable darkness. Really,
I profess myself to be a gallant man, but there are situ-
ations which have a tendency to cause annoyance. I
carried the limp creature cautiously down the stairs,
fearing the fate of the butler, and at last got her into the
dining room, where I lit a candle, which gave a light
less brilliant, perhaps, but more steady than my torch.
I dashed some water in her face, and brought her to her
senses, then uncorking another bottle of wine, I bade
her drink a glassful, which she did.
256


The Ghost with the Clubfoot
headlong he must have made a fearful clatter. Shuffling
along with his burden, his slipper was impaled by this
sliver, and the butler's hands being full, he could not
save himself, but went headforemost down the stair.
The startling point, however, is the fact that he was
not carrying my lord's breakfast to him, or taking
it away from him, but that there is some one else
in the castle for whom he was caterer. Who is that
person?"
"I'm blessed if I know," said the constable, "but
I think you are wrong there. He may not have been
carrying up the breakfast, but he certainly was taking
away the tray, as is shown by the empty dishes, which
you have just a moment ago pointed out."
"No, constable; when his lordship heard the crash,
and sprang impulsively from his bed, he upset the little
table on which had been placed his own tray; it shot
over the oaken chest at the head of the bed, and if you
look between it and the wall you will find tray, dishes,
and the remnants of a breakfast."
"Well, I'm blessed!" exclaimed the chief constable
once again.
"The main point of all this," I went on calmly, "is
not the disaster to the butler, nor even the shock to his
lordship, but the fact that the tray the serving man
carried brought food to a prisoner, who probably for six
weeks has been without anything to eat."
"Then," said the constable, "he is a dead man."
"I find it easier," said I, "to believe in a living man
than in a dead man's ghost. I think I heard his foot-
259


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
steps at midnight, and they seemed to me the footsteps
of a person very nearly exhausted. Therefore, constable,
I have awaited your arrival with some impatience. The
words his late lordship endeavored to write on the paper
were 'The Secret.' I am sure that the hieroglyphics
with which he ended his effort stood for the letter 'R,'
and if he had finished his sentence, it would have stood:
'The Secret Room.' Now, constable, it is a matter of
legend that a secret room exists in this castle. Do you
know where it is?"
"No one knows where the secret room is, or the way
to enter it, except the Lords of Rantremly."
"Well, I can assure you that the Lord of Ran-
tremly who lives in London knows nothing about it. I
have been up and about since daylight, taking some
rough measurements by stepping off distances. I sur-
mise that the secret room is to the left of this stairway.
Probably a whole suite of rooms exists, for there is
certainly a stair coinciding with this one, and up that
stair at midnight I heard a clubfooted man ascend.
Either that, or the ghost that has frightened you all, and,
as I have said, I believe in the man."
Here the official made the first sensible remark I
had yet heard him utter.
"If the walls are so thick that a prisoner's cry has
not been heard, how could you hear his footsteps, which
make much less noise?"
"That is very well put, constable, and when the same
thing occurred to me earlier this morning, I began to
study the architecture of this castle. In the first place,
260


The Ghost with the Clubfoot
the entrance hall is double as wide at the big doors as it
is near the stairway. If you stand with your back to
the front door you will at once wonder why the builders
made this curious and unnecessary right angle, narrow-
ing the farther part of the hall to half its width. Then,
as you gaze at the stair, and see that marvelous carved
oak newell post standing like a monumental column,
you guess, if you have any imagination, that the stair-
way, like the hall, was once double as wide as it is now.
We are seeing only half of it, and doubtless we shall
find a similar newell post within the hidden room. You
must remember, constable, that these secret apartments
are no small added chambers. Twice they have sheltered
a king."
The constable's head bent low at the mention of
royalty. I saw that his insular prejudice against me
and my methods was vanishing, and that he had come to
look upon me with greater respect than was shown at
first.
"The walls need not be thick to be impenetrable to
sound. Two courses of brick and a space between filled
with deafening would do it. The secret apartment has
been cut off from the rest of the house since the castle
was built, and was not designed by the original ar-
chitect. The partition was probably built in a hurry
to fulfill a pressing need, and it was constructed straight
up the middle of the stair, leaving the stout planks in-
tact, each step passing thus, as it were, through the wall.
Now, when a man walks up the secret stairway, his foot-
steps reverberate until one would swear that some un-
261


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
seen person was treading the visible boards on the out-
side."
"By Jove!" said the constable, in an awed tone
of voice.
"Now, officer, I have here a pickax and a crowbar.
I propose that we settle the question at once."
But to this proposal the constable demurred.
"You surely would not break the wall without per-
mission from his lordship in London?"
"Constable, I suspect there is no Lord Rantremly in
London, and that we will find a very emaciated but
genuine Lord Rantremly within ten feet of us. I need
not tell you that if you are instrumental in his imme-
diate rescue without the exercise of too much red tape,
your interests will not suffer because you the more
speedily brought food and drink to the lord paramount of
your district."
"Right you are," cried the constable, with an en-
thusiasm for which I was not prepared. "Where shall
we begin?"
"Oh, anywhere; this wall is all false from the en-
trance hall to some point up here. Still, as the butler
was carrying the meal upstairs I think we shall save time
if we begin on the landing."
I found the constable's brawn much superior to his
brain. He worked like a sans-culotte on a barricade.
When we had torn down part of the old oak paneling,
which it seemed such a pity to mutilate with ax and
crowbar, we came upon a brick wall, that quickly gave
way before the strength of the constable. Then we
262


The Ghost with the Clubfoot
pulled out some substance like matting, and found a
second brick wall, beyond which was a further shell
of paneling. The hole we made revealed nothing but
darkness inside, and although we shouted, there was no
answer. At last, when we had hewn it large enough
for a man to enter, I took with me an electric torch, and
stepped inside, the constable following, with crowbar still
in hand. I learned, as I had surmised, that we were in
the upper hall of a staircase nearly as wide as the one on
the outside. A flash of the light showed a door corre-
sponding with the fireplace of the upper landing, and
this door not being locked, we entered a large room,
rather dimly lighted by strongly barred windows that
gave into a blind courtyard, of which there had been
no indication heretofore, either outside or inside the
castle. Broken glass crunched under our feet, and I
saw that the floor was strewn with wine bottles whose
necks had been snapped off to save the pulling of the
cork. On a mattress at the farther end of the room lay
a man with gray hair and shaggy, unkempt, iron-gray
beard. He seemed either asleep or dead, but when I
turned my electric light full on his face he proved to be
still alive, for he rubbed his eyes languidly, and groaned,
rather than spoke:
"Is that you at last, you beast of a butler? Bring
me something to eat, in heaven's name!"
I shook him wider awake. He seemed to be drowsed
with drink, and was fearfully emaciated. When I got
him on his feet, I noticed then the deformity that char-
acterized one of them. We assisted him through the
263


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
aperture, and down into the dining room, where he cried
out continually for something to eat, but when we placed
food before him, he could scarcely touch it. He became
more like a human being when he had drunk two glasses
of wine, and I saw at once he was not as old as his gray
hair seemed to indicate. There was a haunted look in his
eyes, and he watched the door as if apprehensive.
"Where is that butler?" he asked at last.
"Dead," I replied.
"Did I kill him?"
"No; he fell down the stairway and broke his neck."
The man laughed harshly.
"Where is my father?"
"Who is your father?"
"Lord Rantremly."
"He is dead also."
"How came he to die?"
"He died from a stroke of paralysis on the morning
the butler was killed."
The rescued man made no comment on this, but
turned and ate a little more of his food. Then he said
to me:
"Do you know a girl named Sophia Brooks?"
"Yes. For ten years she thought you dead."
"Ten years! Good God, do you mean to say I've .
been in there only ten years? Why, I'm an old mar?.
I must be sixty at least."
"No; you're not much over thirty."
"Is Sophia—" He stopped, and the haunted look
came into his eyes again.
264


CHAPTER XXI
THE SECRET OF A NOBLE HOUSE
MAN should present the whole truth to
his doctor, his lawyer, or his detective. If
a doctor is to cure, he must be given the
full confidence of the patient; if a law-
yer is to win a case, he needs to know
what tells against his client as well as the points in his
favor; if a secret agent is to solve a mystery, all the
cards should be put on the table. Those who half trust
a professional man need not be disappointed when re-
sults prove unsatisfactory.
A partial confidence reposed in me led to the libera-
tion of a dangerous criminal, caused me to associate with
a robber much against my own inclination, and brought
me within danger of the law. Of course, I never pre-
tend to possess that absolute confidence in the law
which seems to be the birthright of every Englishman.
I have lived too intimately among the machinery of the
law, and have seen too many of its ghastly mistakes, to
hold it in that blind esteem which appears to be preva-
lent in the British Isles.
There is a doggerel couplet which typifies this spirit
better than anything I can write, and it runs:
No rogue ere felt the halter draw,
With a good opinion of the law.

267


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
Those lines exemplify the trend of British thought in
this direction. If you question a verdict of their courts,
you are a rogue, and that ends the matter. And yet,
when an Englishman undertakes to circumvent the law,
there is no other man on earth who will go to greater
lengths. An amazing people! Never understandable
by the sane of other countries.
It was entirely my own fault that I became involved
in affairs which were almost indefensible and wholly
illegal.
My client first tried to bribe me into compliance with
his wishes, which bribe I sternly refused. Then he
partially broke down and, quite unconsciously as I take
it, made an appeal to the heart—a strange thing for an
Englishman to do. My kind heart has ever been my
most vulnerable point. We French are sentimentalists.
France has before now staked its very existence for an
ideal, while other countries fight for continents, cash, or
commerce. You cannot pierce me with a lance of gold,
but wave a wand of sympathy, and I am yours.
There waited upon me in my flat a man who gave
his name as Douglas Sanderson, which may or may
not have been his legitimate title. This was a question
into which I never probed, and at the moment of writ-
ing am as ignorant of his true cognomen, if that was
not it, as on the morning he first met me. He was an
elderly man of natural dignity and sobriety, slow in
speech, almost somber in dress. His costume was not
quite that of a professional man, and not quite that
of a gentleman. I at once recognized the order to
268


The Secret of a Noble House
which he belonged, and a most difficult class it is to
deal with. He was the confidential servant or steward
of some ancient and probably noble family, embody-
ing in himself all the faults and virtues, each a trifle
accentuated, of the line he served, and to which, in
order to produce him and his like, his father, grand-
father, and great-grandfather had doubtless been at-
tached. It is frequently the case that the honor of the
house he serves is more dear to him than it is to the
representative of that house. Such a man is almost al-
ways the repository of family secrets; a repository whose
inviolability gold cannot affect, threats sway, or cajolery
influence.
I knew, when I looked at him, that practically I was
looking at his master, for I have known many cases
where even the personal appearance of the two were
almost identical, which may have given rise to the Eng-
lish phrase, "Like master, like man." The servant was
a little more haughty, a little less kind, a little more ex-
clusive, a little less confidential, a little more condescend-
ing, a little less human, a little more Tory, and altogether
a little less pleasant and easy person to deal with.
"Sir," he began, when I had waved him to a seat,
"I am a very rich man, and can afford to pay well for
the commission I request you to undertake. To ask you
to name your own terms may seem unbusinesslike, so I
may say at the outset I am not a business man. The
service I shail ask will involve the utmost secrecy, and
for that I am willing to pay. It may expose you to risk
of limb or liberty, and for that I am willing to pay. It
269


The Secret of a Noble House
I replied nonchalantly:
"It means, as a matter of course, ' That goes without
saying.' Whatever you care to tell me about your son
will be mentioned to no one. Pray proceed, without fur-
ther circumlocution, for my time is valuable."
"My son was always a little wild and impatient of
control. Although everything he could wish was at his
disposal here at home, he chose to visit America, where
he fell into bad company. I assure you there is no real
harm in the boy, but he became implicated with others,
and has suffered severely for his recklessness. For five
years he has been an inmate of a prison in the West.
He was known and convicted under the name of Wy-
oming Ed."
"What was his crime?"
"His alleged crime was the stopping and robbing
of a railway train."
"For how long was he sentenced?"
"He was sentenced for life."
"What do you wish me to do?"
"Every appeal has been made to the governor of
the State, in an endeavor to obtain a pardon. These
appeals have failed. I am informed that if money
enough is expended it may be possible to arrange my
son's escape."
"In other words, you wish me to bribe the officials
of the jail?"
"I assure you the lad is innocent."
For the first time a quiver of human emotion came
into the old man's voice.


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Then, if you can prove that, why not apply for
a new trial?"
"Unfortunately, the circumstances of the case of his
arrest on the train itself, the number of witnesses against
him, give me no hope that a new trial would end in a
different verdict, even if a new trial could be obtained,
which I am informed is not possible. Every legal means
tending to his liberation has already been tried."
"I see. And now you are determined to adopt ille-
gal means? I refuse to have anything to do with the
malpractice you propose. You objected to a phrase in
French, Mr. Sanderson; perhaps one in Latin will please
you better. It is 'Veritas prccvalebit,' which means
'Truth will prevail.' I shall set your mind entirely at
rest regarding your son. Your son at this moment oc-
cupies a humble, if honorable, position in the great house
from which you came, and he hopes in time worthily to
fill his father's shoes, as you have filled the shoes of
your father. You are not a rich man, but a servant.
Your son never was in America, and never will go there.
It is your master's son, the heir to great English estates,
who became the Wyoming Ed of the Western prison.
Even from what you say, I do not in the least doubt
he was justly convicted, and you may go back to your
master and tell him so. You came here to conceal the
shameful secret of a wealthy and noble house; you
may return knowing that secret has been revealed, and
that the circumstances in which you so solemnly bound
me to secrecy never existed. Sir, that is the penalty of
lying."
272


The Secret of a Noble House
of his race. My young master is an only son, and failing
his appearance, should his father die, title and estate will
pass to strangers. Our helplessness in this situation
adds to its horror. We dare not make any public move.
My /old master is one with such influence among the
governing class of this country, of which he has long
been a member, that the average Englishman, if his
name were mentioned, would think his power limitless.
Yet that power he dare not exert to save his own son
from a felon's life and death. However much he or
another may suffer, publicity must be avoided, and this
is a secret which cannot safely be shared with more than
those who know it now."
"How many know it?"
"In this country, three persons. In an American
prison, one."
"Have you kept up communication with the young
man?"
"Oh, yes."
"Direct?"
"No; through a third person. My young master has
implored his father not to write to him direct."
"This go-between, as we may call him, is the third
person in the secret? Who is he?"
"That I dare not tell you."
"Mr. Sanderson, it would be much better for your
master and his son that you should be more open with
me. These half confidences are misleading. Has the son
made any suggestion regarding his release?"
"Oh, yes; but not the suggestion I have put before
275


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
you. His latest letter was to the effect that within six
months or so there is to be an election for governor.
He proposes that a large sum of money shall be used to
influence this election so that a man pledged to pardon
him may sit in the governor's chair."
"I see. And this sum of money is to be paid to
the third person you referred to?"
"Yes."
"May I take it that this third person is the one to
whom various sums have been paid during the last five
years in order to bribe the governor to pardon the
young man?"
Sanderson hesitated a moment before answering; in
fact, he appeared so torn between inclination and duty,
anxious to give me whatever information I deemed nec-
essary, yet hemmed in by the instructions with which
his master had limited him, that at last I waved my
hand and said:
"You need not reply, Mr. Sanderson. That third
party is the crux of the situation. I strongly suspect
him of blackmail. If you would but name him, and
allow me to lure him to these rooms, I possess a little
private prison of my own into which I could thrust him,
and I venture to say that before he had passed a week
in darkness, on bread and water, we should have the
truth about this business."
Look you now the illogical nature of an Englishman!
Poor old Sanderson, who had come to me with a pro-
posal to break the law of America, seemed horror-
stricken when I airily suggested the immuring of a man
276


The Secret of a Noble House
in a dungeon here in England! He gazed at me in
amazement, then cast his eyes furtively about him, as
if afraid a trapdoor would drop beneath him and land
him in my private oubliette.
"Do not be alarmed, Mr. Sanderson; you are per-
fectly safe. You are beginning at the wrong end of this
business, and it seems to me five years of contributions
to this third party without any result might have opened
the eyes of even the most influential nobleman in Eng-
land, not to mention those of his faithful servant."
"Indeed, sir," said Sanderson, "I must confess to
you that I have long had a suspicion of this third per-
son, but my master has clung to him as his only hope,
and if this third person were interfered with, I may tell
you that he has deposited in London, at some place un-
known to us, a full history of the case, and if it should
happen that he disappears for more than a week at a
time, this record will be brought to light."
"My dear Mr. Sanderson, that device is as old as
Noah and his ark. I should chance that. Let me lay this
fellow by the heels, and I will guarantee that no pub-
licity follows."
Sanderson sadly shook his head.
"Everything might happen as you say, sir, but all
that would put us no farther forward. The only point
is the liberation of my young master. It is possible that
the person unmentioned, whom we may call Number
Three, has been cheating us throughout, but that is a
matter of no consequence."
"Pardon me, but I think it is. Suppose your young
277


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
so easily thrown off the scent. Once he has tasted blood
he is a human man-eating tiger. But still, there is al-
ways my private dungeon in the background, and if
your plan for silencing him fails, I guarantee that my
more drastic and equally illegal method will be a
success."

280


CHAPTER XXII
LIBERATING THE WRONG MAN
T will be seen that my scruples concerning
the acceptance of this commission and my
first dislike for the old man had both
faded away during the conversation which
I have set down in the preceding chapter.
I saw him under the stress of deep emotion, and latterly
began to realize the tremendous chances he was taking
in contravening the will of his imperious master. If the
large sum of money was long withheld from the black-
mailer, Douglas Sanderson ran the risk of Number
Three opening up communication direct with his master.
Investigation would show that the old servant had come
perilously near laying himself open to a charge of breach
of trust, and even of defalcation with regard to the
money, and all this danger he was heroically incurring
for the unselfish purpose of serving the interests of his
employer. During our long interview old Sanderson
gradually became a hero in my eyes, and entirely in op-
position to the resolution I had made at the beginning,
I accepted his commission at the end of it.
Nevertheless, my American experiences are those of
which I am least proud, and all I care to say upon the
subject is that my expedition proved completely suc-

19 281


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
cessful. The late convict was my companion on the
Arontic, the first steamship sailing for England after
we reached New York from the West. Of course I
knew that two or three years roughing it in mining
camps and on ranches, followed by five years in prison,
must have produced a radical effect not only on the
character, but also in the personal appearance of a man
who had undergone these privations. Nevertheless,
making due allowance for all this, I could not but fear
that the ancient English family, of which this young
man was the hope and pride, would be exceedingly dis-
appointed with him. In spite of the change which
grooming and the wearing of a civilized costume made,
Wyoming Ed still looked much more the criminal than
the gentleman. I considered myself in honor bound
not to make any inquiries of the young man regarding
his parentage. Of course, if I had wished to possess
myself of the secret, I had but to touch a button under
the table when Sanderson left my rooms in the Im-
perial Flats, which would have caused him to be shad-
owed and run to earth. I may also add that the ex-
prisoner volunteered no particulars about himself or his
family. Only once on board ship did he attempt to ob-
tain some information from me as we walked up and
down the deck together.
"You are acting for some one else,, I suppose?"
he said.
"Yes."
"For some one in England?"
"Yes."
282


Liberating the Wrong Man
the children in the cradle. You don't intend to send me
back to that hellhole, do you?"
"No," I said, "not if you tell the truth. Sit down."
The late prisoner seated himself in a chair as close
to the door as possible, hitching a little nearer as he
sat down. His face had taken on a sharp, crafty aspect
like that of a trapped rat.
"You are perfectly safe," I assured him. "Sit over
here by the table. Even if you bolted through that door,
you couldn't get out of this flat. Mr. Sanderson, take
a chair."
The old man sank despondently into the one nearest
at hand. I pressed a button, and when my servant en-
tered I said to him:
"Bring some cognac and Scotch whisky, glasses,
and two siphons of soda."
"You haven't got any Kentucky or Canadian?"
asked the prisoner, moistening his lips. The jail white-
ness in his face was now accentuated by the pallor of
fear, and the haunted look of the escaped convict glim-
mered from his eyes. In spite of the comfort I had at-
tempted to bestow upon him, he knew that he had been
rescued in mistake for another, and for the first time
since he left prison realized he was among strangers,
and not among friends. In his trouble he turned to the
beverage of his native continent.
"Bring a bottle of Canadian whisky," I said to the
servant, who disappeared, and shortly returned with
what I had ordered. I locked the door after him, and
put the key in my pocket.
285


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"What am I to call you?" I asked the ex-convict.
With a forced laugh he said: "You can call me Jack
for short."
"Very well, Jack, help yourself," and he poured out
a very liberal glass of the Dominion liquor, refusing to
dilute it with soda. Sanderson took Scotch, and I helped
myself to a petit verre of brandy.
"Now, Jack," I began, "I may tell you plainly that
if I wished to send you back to prison, I could not do
so without incriminating myself. You are legally dead,
and you have now a chance to begin life anew, an op-
portunity of which I hope you will take advantage. If
you were to apply three weeks from to-day at the prison
doors, they would not dare admit you. You are dead.
Does that console you?"
"Well, squire, you can bet your bottom dollar*I
never thought I'd be pleased to hear I was dead, but
I'm glad if it's all fixed as you say, and you can bet
your last pair of boots I'm going to keep out of the jug
in future if I can."
"That's right. Now, I can promise that if you an-
swer all my questions truthfully, you shall be given
money enough to afford you a new beginning in life."
"Good enough," said Jack briefly.
"You were known in prison as Wyoming Ed?"
"Yes, sir."
"If that was not your name, why did you use it?"
"Because Colonel Jim, on the train, asked me to do
that. He said it would give him a pull in England to
get me free."
286


Liberating the Wrong Man
"Did you know Wyoming Ed?"
"Yes, sir, he was one of us three that held up the
train."
"What became of him?"
"He was shot dead."
"By one of the passengers?"
There was silence, during which the old man
groaned and bowed his head. Jack was studying the
floor. Then he looked up at me and said:
"You don't expect me to give a pal away, do
you?"
"As that pal has given you away for the last five
years, it seems to me you need not show very much con-
sideration for him."
"I'm not so sure he did."
"I am; but never mind that point. Colonel Jim
Baxter shot Wyoming Ed and killed him. Why?"
"See here, my friend, you're going a little too fast.
I didn't say that."
He reached somewhat defiantly for the bottle from
Canada.
"Pardon me," I said, rising quietly, and taking pos-
session of the bottle myself, "it grieves me more than
I can say to restrict my hospitality. I have never done
such a thing in my life before, but this is not a drink-
ing bout; it is a very serious conference. The whisky
you have already taken has given you a bogus courage
and a false view of things. Are you going to tell me the
truth, or are you not?"
Jack pondered on this for a while, then he said:
287


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
money from the shelves of the safe and stuffing it into
a sack.
"' Are you hurt, Jack?' he cried.
"' Yes, my leg's broke.'
"' Don't let that trouble you; we'll get you clear all
right. Do you think you can ride your horse?'
"' I don't believe it,' said I; 'I guess I'm done fur,'
and I thought I was.
"Colonel Jim never looked round, but he went
through that safe in a way that'd make your.hair curl,
throwing aside the bulky packages after tearing them
open, taking only cash, which he thrust into a bag he
had with him, till he was loaded like a millionaire. Then
suddenly he swore, for the train began to move.
"'What is that fool Ed doing?' he shouted, rising
to his feet.
"At that minute Ed came in, pistol in each hand,
and his face ablaze.
"' Here, you cursed thief!' he cried, 'I didn't come
with you to rob a train!'
"' Get outside, you fool!' roared Colonel Jim, 'get
outside and stop this train. Jack has got his leg broke.
Don't come another step toward me or I'll kill you!'
"But Ed, he walked right on, Colonel Jim backing,
then there was a shot that rang like cannon fire in the
closed car, and Ed fell forward on his face. Colonel
Jim turned him over, and I saw he had been hit square
in the middle of the forehead. The train was now going
at good speed, and we were already miles away from
where our horses were tied. I never heard a man swear
292


The Triufnphs of Eugene Valmont
seemed determined that we should not know where we
were, and took every precaution to keep us in the dark.
T suppose he put us out of earshot, so that if the major
mentioned the name of the nobleman we should not be
any the wiser. We remained in the gallery for some time
after the major had left before Sanderson came to us
again, carrying with him a packet.
"The carriage is waiting at the door," he said, " and
with your permission, Mr. Valmont, I will accompany
you to your flat."
I smiled at the old man's extreme caution, but he
continued very gravely:
"It is not that,. Mr. Valmont. I wish to consult
with you, and if you will accept it, I have another com-
mission to offer."
"Well," said I, "I hope it is not so unsavory as the
last." But to this the old man made no response.
There was silence in the carriage as we drove back
to my flat. Sanderson had taken the precaution of pull-
ing down the blinds of the carriage, which he need not
have troubled to do, for, as I have said, it would have
been the simplest matter in the world for me to have
discovered who his employer was, if I had desired to
know. As a matter of fact, I do not know to this day
whom he represented.
Once more in my room, with the electric light turned
on, I was shocked and astonished to see the expression
on Sanderson's face. It was the face of a man who
would grimly commit murder and hang for it. If ever
the thirst for vengeance was portrayed on a human
294


CHAPTER XXIII
THE FASCINATING LADY ALICIA
ANY Englishmen, if you speak to them of
me, indulge themselves in a detraction
that I hope they will not mind my say-
ing is rarely graced by the delicacy of
innuendo with which some of my own
countrymen attempt to diminish whatever merit I pos-
sess. Mr. Spenser Hale, of Scotland Yard, whose lack
of imagination I have so often endeavored to amend,
alas! without perceptible success, was good enough to
say, after I had begun these reminiscences, which he
read with affected scorn, that I was wise in setting
down my successes, because the life of Methuselah
himself would not be long enough to chronicle my
failures, and the man to whom this was said replied
that it was only my artfulness, a word of which these
people are very fond; that I intended to use my suc-
cesses as bait, issue a small pamphlet filled with them,
and then record my failures in a thousand volumes,
after the plan of a Chinese encyclopedia, selling these
to the public on the installment plan.
Ah, well; it is not for me to pass comment on such
observations. Every profession is marred by its little
jealousies, and why should the coterie of detection be
exempt? I hope I may never follow an example so

298


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
than by its dismemberment and sale piecemeal? But
such a fuss was kicked up, such a furore created, that
it is no wonder the receiver of the goods lay low and
said nothing. In vain were all ports giving access to
the Continent watched; in vain were the police of
France, Belgium, and Holland warned to look out for
this treasure. Two valuable months were lost, and
then the Marquis of Blair sent for me! I maintain
that the case was hopeless from the moment I took
it up.
It may be asked why the Marquis of Blair allowed
the regular police to blunder along for two precious
months, but anyone who is acquainted with that
nobleman will not wonder that he clung so long to a
forlorn hope. Very few members of the House of
Peers are richer than Lord Blair, and still fewer more
penurious. He maintained that, as he paid his taxes,
he was entitled to protection from theft; that it was
the duty of the Government to restore the gems, and
if this proved impossible, to make compensation for
them. This theory is not accepted in the English
courts, and while Scotland Yard did all it could during
those two months, what but failure was to be expected
from its limited mental equipment?
When I arrived at the Manor of Blair, as his lord-
ship's very ugly and somewhat modern mansion house
is termed, I was instantly admitted to his presence. I
had been summoned from London by a letter in his
lordship's own hand, on which the postage was not
paid. It was late in the afternoon when I arrived, and
300


The Fascinating Lady Alicia
hold in a state of abject terror for eight long weeks,
and where are the emeralds?"
As she suddenly asked this question, in the most
Parisian of accents, with a little outward spreading
of the hand, a flash of the eye, and a toss of the head,
the united effect was something indescribable through
the limitations of the language I am compelled to use.
"Well, monsieur, your arrival has put to flight this
tiresome brigade, if, indeed, the word flight is not too
airy a term to use toward a company so elephantine,
and I assure you a sigh of relief has gone up from the
whole household with the exception of my uncle. I
said to him at dinner to-night: 'If Monsieur Valmont
had been induced to take an interest in the case at first,
the jewels would have been in my possession long be-
fore to-night.'"
"Ah, my lady," I protested, "I fear you overrate
my poor ability. It is quite true that if I had been
called in on the night of the robbery, my chances of
success would have been infinitely greater than they
are now."
"Monsieur," she cried, clasping her hands over
her knees and leaning toward me, hypnotizing me with
those starry eyes, " Monsieur, I am perfectly confident
that before a week is past you will restore the neck-
lace, if such restoration be possible. I have said so
from the first. Now, am I right in my conjecture,
monsieur, that you come here alone; that you bring
with you no train of followers and assistants?"
"That is as you have stated it my lady."

305


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"I was sure of it. It is to be a contest of trained
mentality in opposition to our two months' experience
of brute force."
Never before had I felt such ambition to succeed,
and a determination not to disappoint took full pos-
session of me. Appreciation is a needed stimulant,
and here it was offered to me in its most intoxicating
form. Ah, Valmont, Valmont, will you never grow
old! I am sure that at this moment, if I had been
eighty, the same thrill of enthusiasm would have
tingled to my fingers' ends. Leave the Manor of Blair
in the morning? Not for the Bank of France!
"Has my uncle acquainted you with particulars of
the robbery?"
"No, madame, we were talking of other things."
The lady leaned back in her low chair, partially
closed her eyes, and breathed a deep sigh.
"I can well imagine the subject of your conversa-
tion," she said at last. "The Marquis of Blair was
endeavoring to impose usurer's terms upon you, while
you, nobly scorning such mercenary considerations,
had perhaps resolved to leave us at the earliest oppor-
tunity."
"I assure you, my lady, that if any such conclusion
had been arrived at on my part, it vanished the mo-
ment I was privileged to set foot in this drawing-
room."
"It is kind of you to say that, monsieur, but you
must not allow your conversation with my uncle to
prejudice you against him. He is an old man now,
306


The Fascinating Lady Alicia
and, of course, has his fancies. You would think him
mercenary, perhaps, and so he is; but then so, too, am
I. Oh, yes, I am, monsieur, frightfully mercenary.
To be mercenary, I believe, means to be fond of money.
No one is fonder of money than I, except, perhaps,
my uncle; but you see, monsieur, we occupy the two
extremes. He is fond of money to hoard it; I am fond
of money to spend it. I am fond of money for the
things it will buy. I should like to scatter largess
as did my fair ancestress in France. I should love a
manor house in the country, and a mansion in May-
fair. I could wish to make everyone around me happy
if the expenditure of money would do it."
"That is a form of money love, Lady Alicia, which
will find a multitude of admirers."
The girl shook her head and laughed merrily.
"I should so dislike to forfeit your esteem, Mon-
sieur Valmont, and therefore I shall not reveal the
depth of my cupidity. You will learn that probably
from my uncle, and then you will understand my ex-
treme anxiety for the recovery of these jewels."
"Are they very valuable?"
"Oh, yes; the necklace consists of twenty stones,
no one of which weighs less than an ounce. Alto-
gether, I believe, they amount to two thousand four
hundred or two thousand five hundred carats, and
their intrinsic value is twenty pounds a carat at least.
So you see that means nearly fifty thousand pounds,
yet even this sum is trivial compared with what it in-
volves. There is something like a million at stake, to-
307


The Fascinating Lady Alicia
serve an open mind. Please do not allow my uncle
to prejudice you against him."
"What is the name of this young man?"
"He is the Honorable John Haddon."
"The Honorable! Is he a person who could do so
dishonorable an action?"
The young lady shook her head.
"I am almost sure he would not, and yet one never
can tell. I think at the present moment there are one
or two noble lords in prison, but their crimes have not
been mere vulgar housebreaking."
"Am I to infer, Lady Alicia, that you are in pos-
session of certain facts unknown either to your uncle
or the police?"
"Yes."
"Pardon me, but do these facts tend to incrimi-
nate the young man?"
Again the young lady leaned back in her chair and
gazed past me, a wrinkle of perplexity on her fair
brow. Then she said very slowly:
"You will understand, Monsieur Valmont, how
loath I am to speak against one who was formerly a
friend. If he had been content to remain a friend, I
am sure this incident, which has caused us all such
worry and trouble, would never have happened. I do
not wish to dwell on what my uncle will tell you was
a very unpleasant episode, but the Honorable John
Haddon is a poor man, and it is quite out of the ques-
tion for one brought up as I have been to marry into
poverty. He was very headstrong and reckless about
309


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
the matter, and involved my uncle in a bitter quarrel
while discussing it, much to my chagrin and disap-
pointment. It is as necessary for him to marry wealth
as it is for me to make a good match, but he could not
be brought to see that. Oh, he is not at all a sensible
young man, and my former friendship for him has
ceased. Yet I should dislike very much to take any
action that might harm him, therefore I have spoken
to no one but you about the evidence that is in my
hands, and this you must treat as entirely confidential,
giving no hint to my uncle, who is already bitter
enough against Mr. Haddon."
"Does this evidence convince you that he stole the
necklace?"
"No; I do not believe that he actually stole it, but
I am persuaded he was an accessory after the fact—
is that the legal term? Now, Monsieur Valmont, we
will say no more to-night. If I talk any longer about
this crisis I shall not sleep, and I wish, assured of your
help, to attack the situation with a very clear mind to-
morrow."
When I retired to my room, I found that I, too,
could not sleep, although I needed a clear mind to
face the problem of to-morrow. It is difficult for me
to describe accurately the effect this interview had
upon my mind, but to use a bodily simile, I may say
that it seemed as if I had indulged too freely in a subtle
champagne which appeared exceedingly excellent at
first, but from which the exhilaration had now de-
parted. No man could have been more completely
310


The Fascinating Lady Alicia
under a spell than I was when Lady Alicia's eyes first
told me more than her lips revealed; but although I
had challenged her right to the title "mercenary"
when she applied it to herself, I could not but confess
that her nonchalant recital regarding the friend who
desired to be a lover jarred upon me. I found my
sympathy extending itself to that unknown young
man, on whom it appeared the shadow of suspicion
already rested. I was confident that if he had actually
taken the emeralds it was not at all from motives of
cupidity. Indeed, that was practically shown by the
fact that Scotland Yard found itself unable to trace
the jewels, which at least they might have done if the
necklace had been sold either as a whole or dismem-
bered. Of course, an emerald weighing an ounce is
by no means unusual. The Hope emerald, for ex-
ample, weighs six ounces, and the gem owned by the
Duke of Devonshire measures two and a quarter
inches through its greatest diameter. Nevertheless,
such a constellation as the Blair emeralds was not to
be disposed of very easily, and I surmised no attempt
had been made either to sell them or to raise money
upon them. Now that I had removed myself from
the glamour of her presence, I began to suspect that
the young lady, after all, although undoubtedly pos-
sessing the brilliancy of her jewels, retained also some-
thing of their hardness. There had been no expression
of sympathy for the discarded friend; it was too evi-
dent, recalling what had latterly passed between us,
that the young woman's sole desire, and a perfectly
3"


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
natural desire, was to recover her missing treasure.
There was something behind all this which I could
not comprehend, and I resolved in the morning to ques-
tion the Marquis of Blair as shrewdly as he cared to
allow. Failing him, I should cross-question the niece
in a somewhat dryer light than that which had en-
shrouded me during this interesting evening. I care
not who knows it, but I have been befooled more than
once by a woman, and I determined that in clear day-
light I should resist the hypnotizing influence of those
glorious eyes. Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! How easy it
is for me to make good resolutions when I am far
from temptation!
312


CHAPTER XXIV

WHERE THE EMERALDS WERE FOUND
|T was ten o'clock next morning when I
was admitted to the study of the aged
bachelor Marquis of Blair. His keen
eyes looked through and through me as
I seated myself before him.
"Well!" he said shortly.
"My lord," I began deliberately, "I know nothing
more of the case than was furnished by the accounts
I have read in the newspapers. Two months have
elapsed since the robbery. Every day that passed
made the detection of the criminal more difficult. I
do not wish to waste either my time or your money
on a forlorn hope. If, therefore, you will be good
enough to place me in possession of all the facts known
to you, I shall tell you at once whether or not I can
take up the case."
"Do you wish me to give you the name of the
criminal?" asked his lordship.
"Is his name known to you?" I asked in return.
"Yes. John Haddon stole the necklace."
"Did you give that name to the police?"
* Yes."
"Why didn't they arrest him?"
21 3r3


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
"Because the evidence against him is so small, and
the improbability of his having committed the crime
is so great."
"What is the evidence against him?"
His lordship spoke with the dry deliberation of an
aged solicitor.
"The robbery was committed on the night of
October the fifth. All day there had been a heavy rain,
and the grounds were wet. For reasons into which
I do not care to enter, John Haddon was familiar
with this house and with our grounds. He was well
known to my servants, and, unfortunately, popular
with them, for he is an open-handed spendthrift. The
estate of his elder brother, Lord Steffenham, adjoins
my own to the west, and Lord Steffenham's house is
three miles from where we sit. On the night of the
fifth a ball was given in the mansion of Lord Steffen-
ham, to which, of course, my niece and myself were
invited, and which invitation we accepted. I had no
quarrel with the elder brother. It was known to John
Haddon that my niece intended to wear her necklace
of emeralds. The robbery occurred at a time when
most crimes of that nature are committed in country
houses, namely, while we were at dinner, an hour dur-
ing which the servants are almost invariably in the
lower part of the house. In October the days are get-
ting short. The night was exceptionally dark, for,
although the rain had ceased, not a star was visible.
The thief placed a ladder against the sill of one of the
upper windows, opened it, and came in. He must have

314



'Mr. Jonas Carter."





Where the Emeralds were Found
however, does not move in our sphere of life. He is
connected with the steel or cutlery industry, and is
a person of great wealth, rising upward of a million,
with a large estate in Derbyshire, and a house front-
ing Hyde Park, in London. He is a very strict busi-
ness man, and both my niece and myself agree that
he is also an eligible man. I myself am rather strict
in matters of business, and I must admit that Mr.
Carter showed a very generous spirit in arranging
the preliminaries of the engagement with me.- When
Alicia's father died he had run through all the money
he himself possessed or could borrow from his friends.
Although a man of noble birth, I never liked him. He
was married to my only sister. The Blair emeralds,
as perhaps you know, descend down the female line.
They, therefore, came to my niece from her mother.
My poor sister had long been disillusioned before
death released her from the titled scamp she had mar-
ried, and she very wisely placed the emeralds in my
custody to be held in trust for her daughter. They
constitute my niece's only fortune, and would produce,
if offered in London to-day, probably seventy-five or
a hundred thousand pounds, although actually they are
not worth so much. Mr. Jonas Carter very amiably
consented to receive my niece with a dowry of only
fifty thousand pounds, and that money I offered to
advance, if I was allowed to retain the jewels as
security. This was arranged between Mr. Carter and
myself."
"But surely Mr. Carter does not refuse to carry
3iZ


Where the Emeralds were Found
the danger in which he stood, and, if possible, per-
suade him to deliver up the necklace to me. As I
strolled along under the grand old leafless trees, I
suddenly heard my name called impulsively two or
three times, and turning round saw the Lady Alicia
running toward me. Her cheeks were bright with
nature's rouge, and her eyes sparkled more dazzlingly
than any emerald that ever tempted man to wicked-
ness.
"Oh, Monsieur Valmont, I have been waiting for
you, and you escaped me. Have you seen my uncle?"
"Yes; I have been with him since ten o'clock."
"Well?"
"Your ladyship, that is exactly the word with
which he accosted me."
"Ah, you see an additional likeness between my
uncle and myself this morning, then? Has he told
you about Mr. Carter?"
"Yes."
"So now you understand how important it is that
I should regain possession of my property?"
"Yes," I said with a sigh; "the house near Hyde
Park and the great estate in Derbyshire."
She clapped her hands with glee, eyes and feet
dancing in unison, as she capered along gayly beside
me; a sort of skippety-hop, skippety-hop, sideways,
keeping pace with my more stately step, as if she were
a little girl of six instead of a young woman of twenty.
"Not only that!" she cried, "but one million
pounds to spend! Oh, Monsieur Valmont, you know
319


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
not to a service. I am decorating the church with
holly, and you shall help me and get thorns in your
poor fingers."
The private road, which up to this time had passed
through a forest, now reached a secluded glade in
which stood a very small, but exquisite, church, evi-
dently centuries older than the mansion we had left.
Beyond it were gray stone ruins, which Lady Alicia
pointed out to me as remnants of the original man-
sion that had been built in the reign of the second
Henry. The church, it was thought, formed the pri-
vate chapel to the hall, and it had been kept in repair
by the various lords of the manor.
"Now hearken to the power of the poor, and learn
how they may flout the proud marquis," cried Lady
Alicia gleefully; "the poorest man in England may
walk along this private road on Sunday to the church,
and the proud marquis is powerless to prevent him.
Of course, if the poor man prolongs his walk then is he
in danger from the law of trespass. On week days,
however, this is the most secluded spot on the estate,
and I regret to say that my lordly uncle does not
trouble it even on Sundays. I fear we are a degenerate
race, Monsieur Valmont, for doubtless a fighting and
deeply religious ancestor of mine built this church,
and to think that when the useful masons cemented
those stones together, Madame la Marquise de Bell-
airs or Lady Alicia were alike unthought of, and
though three hundred years divide them, this ancient
chapel makes them seem, as one might say, contempo-
322


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
came to suspect a man whom at first you believed
innocent."
"I am not sure but I believe him innocent now,
although I am forced to the conclusion that he knows
where the treasure is."
"What forces you to that conclusion, my lady?"
"A letter I received from himself, in which he
makes a proposal so extraordinary that I am almost
disinclined to accede to it, even though it leads to the
discovery of my necklace. However, I am determined
to leave no means untried if I receive the support of
my friend, Monsieur Valmont."
"My lady," said I, with a bow, "it is but yours to
command, mine to obey. What were the contents of
that letter?"
"Read it," she replied, taking the folded sheet from
her pocket and handing it to me.
She had been quite right in characterizing the note
as an extraordinary epistle. The Honorable John
Haddon had the temerity, to propose that she should
go through a form of marriage with him in the old
church we had just left. If she did that, he said, it
would console him for the mad love he felt for her.
The ceremony would have no binding force upon her
whatever, and she might bring whom she pleased to
perform it. If she knew no one that she could trust,
he would invite an old college chum, and bring him to
the church next morning at half past seven o'clock.
Even if an ordained clergyman performed the cere-
mony, it would not be legal unless it took place be-
324


Where the Emeralds were Found
tween the hours of eight in the morning and three in
the afternoon. If she consented to this, the emeralds
were hers once more.
"This is the proposal of a madman," said I, as I
handed back the letter.
"Well," she replied, with a nonchalant shrug of
her shoulders, "he has always said he was madly in
love with me, and I quite believe it. Poor young man,
if this mummery were to console him for the rest of
his life, why should I not indulge him in it?"
"Lady Alicia, surely you would not countenance
the profaning of that lovely old edifice with a mock
ceremonial? No man in his senses could suggest such
a thing!"
Once more her eyes were twinkling with merri-
ment.
"But the Honorable John Haddon, as I have told
you, is not in his senses."
"Then why should you indulge him?"
"Why? How can you ask such a question? Be-
cause of the emeralds. It is only a mad lark, after all,
and no one need know of it. Oh, Monsieur Valmont,"
she cried pleadingly, clasping her hands, and yet it
seemed to me with an undercurrent of laughter in her
beseeching tones, "will you not enact for us the part
of clergyman? I am sure if your face were as serious
as it is at this moment, the robes of a priest would
become you."
"Lady Alicia, you are incorrigible. I am some-
what of a man of the world, yet I should not dare to
325


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
counterfeit the sacred office, and I hope you but jest.
In fact, I am sure you do, my lady."
She turned away from me with a very pretty
pout.
"Monsieur Valmont, your knighthood is, after all,
but surface deep. 'Tis not mine to command, and
yours to obey. Certainly I did but jest. John shall
bring his own imitation clergyman with him."
"Are you going to meet him to-morrow?"
"Certainly I am. I have promised. I must secure
my necklace."
"You seem to place great confidence in the belief
that he will produce it."
"If he fails to do so, then I play Monsieur Val-
mont as my trump card. But, monsieur, although
you quite rightly refuse to comply with my first re-
quest, you will surely not reject my second. Please
meet me to-morrow at the head of the avenue,
promptly at a quarter past seven, and escort me to the
church."
For a moment the negative trembled on my
tongue's end, but she turned those enchanting eyes
upon me, and I was undone.
"Very well," I answered.
She seized both my hands, like a little girl over-
joyed at a promised excursion.
"Oh, Monsieur Valmont, you are a darling! I feel
as if I'd known you all my life. I am sure you will
never regret having humored me," then added a mo-
ment later, "if we get the emeralds."
326


Where the Emeralds were Found
"Ah," said I, "if we get the emeralds."
We were now within sight of the house, and she
pointed out our rendezvous for the following day, and
with that I bade her good-by.
It was shortly after seven o'clock next morning
when I reached the meeting place. The Lady Alicia
was somewhat long in coming, but when she arrived
her face was aglow with girlish delight at the solemn
prank she was about to play.
"You have not changed your mind?" I asked,
after the morning's greetings.
"Oh, no, Monsieur Valmont," she replied, with a
bright laugh. "I am determined to recover those
emeralds."
"We must hurry, Lady Alicia, or we will be too
late."
"There is plenty of time," she remarked calmly;
and she proved to be right, because when we came in
sight of the church, the clock pointed to the hour of
half past seven.
"Now," she said, "I shall wait here until you steal
up to the church and look in through one of the win-
dows that do not contain stained glass. I should not
for the world arrive before Mr. Haddon and his friend
are there."
I did as requested, and saw two young men stand-
ing together in the center aisle, one in the full robes
of a clergyman, the other in his ordinary dress, whom
I took to be the Honorable John Haddon. His profile
was toward me, and I must admit there was very little
327


The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont
I looked at my watch; it was twenty-five minutes
to nine.
"Was the ceremony genuine, then?" I asked.
"Ah, Valmont," said the young man, patting his
wife affectionately on the shoulder, "nothing on earth
can be more genuine than that ceremony was."
And the volatile Lady Alicia snuggled closer to
him.
O)
THE END
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