CIHM Microfiche Series (Monographs) ICMH Collection de microfiches (monographies) Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Instltut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1996 Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming are checked below. D D D D D n n n n D Coloured covers / Couverture de couleur Covers damaged / Couverture endommag6e Covers restored and/or laminated / Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul^e Cover title missing / Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps / Cartes g6ographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black) / Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations / Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material / Reli6 avec d'autres documents Only edition available / Seule Edition disponible Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin / La reliure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge int6rieure. Blank leaves added during restorations may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming / II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout6es lors d'une restauraticn apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela ^tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 film6es. Additional comments / Commentaires supplementaires: L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilieur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exem- plaire qui sont peut-6tre uniques du point de vue bibli- ographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la m6tho- de nomiale de filmage sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. I I Coloured pages / Pages de couleur I I Pages damaged / Pages endommag6es n Pages restored and/or laminated / Pages restaur^es et/ou pellicul^es Q Pages discoloured, stained or foxed / Pages d^olor^es, tachet^es ou piqu^es [J Pages detached / Pages d6tach6es [/ I Showthrough / Transparence □ Quality of print varies / Qualit^ in^gale de I'impression Includes supplementary material / Comprend du materiel suppl^mentaire Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image / Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t6 film6es k nouveau de fagon k obtenir la meilleure image possible. Opposing pages with varying colouration or discolourations are filmed twice to ensure the best possible image / Les pages s'opposant ayant des colorations variables ou des decolorations sont film§es deux fois afin d'obtenir la meilleure image possible. D D D Thit Kern is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below / Ce document est film* au taux de rMuction indiquA ci-dessous. lOx 14x 18x 12x 16x 20x 22x 26x 30x 24x 28x J 32x The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: IVIacOdrum Library Carieton University The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol ^*> (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'examplaire film6 fut reproduit grflce i la ginArositA de: MacOdrum Library Carieton University Les images suivantes ont M reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetd de I'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimde sont filmds en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la derniire page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole —^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symboie V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diff^renls. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour etre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est filmd A partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^rw¥^r^%i ^^^.JiSisiys^ MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHA«T (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) ^ ^PPLir ■M/^GE 1653 East '.---n Slreet Rochester. •.»* York U609 u- i ('16) 482 ~ OJOO - Phone '^■'* (716) 288- 5989 -Fax / The TRIUMPHS of EUGENE VALMONX By ROBERT BARR D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK 1906 2 r z c z < n CO rf the Seine . IV.— The Oddities ok the Fnt.lisii \'.- -The Siamese Twin of a Boxin Thrower VI.— A Rehiff and a Response VII.— In the r.RiP CF THE Green Demon- VIII.— The Faie of the Picric Bomb IX.-Tme Dinner tor Seven in the Temple" X.— The Clew of the Silvek Spoons XI -"O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle!" . XII. Lord Chizelrioo's Missing Fortune XIII.-The I- utility of a Search Warra.nt [ XIV -Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard . XV.-The Stra:.oe House in Park Lane X\'I.-The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road X\ II.— The .Ahse.v't-minded Coteime WIH.-The Sad Cask of Sophia ISrooks XI.X.-A Commission from Lord Rantpkmlv XX.— The Ghost ith the Clubfoot XXI.— The Secret of a Nc^le House XXII.— LlBERATINO the \Vr, .V(S Man XXIII.-The Fascinatint. Lady Alicia XXIV.— Where the Fmeralds were Fov.sd PAGF I 10 26 40 57 71 Ho yi 102 III 148 •65 '7' 182 '9.3 200 224 240 250 267 2S1 2g8 31.3 I r c 2 5 3 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PACINO •'Selected . little iron crucifix . . . ,he work of K,mc nncient ""' craltsman . . rrBHtitfitct "I returned the »,are with such composure a, 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 " . . . ,(„ '"Because. M- Valmont, it did not belong to you you stole it ■ " , » / . . . . 332 '"He fell backward and his head struck the sharp stone at the foot of the altar "' f i mc . 236 "His dead comrades ask the traitor to join them •". ' Mr. Jonas Carter "... • 294 . 316 \ r g c 2 1 I 3 safc^JT, ^'WK'- THE TRIUMPHS OF EUGfeNE VALMONT CHAPTER I THE riND.N.C or T„E FATED „VE HUNDRED IHEN I say I an, called \-almont, the name will convey no impression to the reader one way or another. My occnpation is that of private detective in London, but Vol . , ■'"" "* ""•'■ P°'i«-n,an in Paris who ■s a ecent reeru.t. If you ask hin, where Vahnon, it rp:;-si:fpX""--''------o-t: For a |x;rio,i of seven years I was chief detective to he Gover„„,ent of l-ranee. an,, if , an, unable to pro ^ mjself a great cr,n,e hunter, it is because the record of my career ,s ,n the secret archives of Paris to a!r"'°Th"'r' ","" ""'"■' '"••" ' •■"«■ "° ^""•ances fied n , '• "-""-nt considered itself justi- ::! ;,;:r:::r:!^.:"^-" ■■ "^'i - '- "hs action i. 5 r 2 C 2 s 3 •it!i '" 'ts right, and I should be the last to I' A i.'inij'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- mg 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 mto 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 wme 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 1803 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 Mane Antoinette, although how it came to be in the The Finding of the Fate d 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 5 2 C 2 3 ::^ *«*..> •:'^^: '"' ■'^'.ff^'^e''- ^ 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 ^^^i^^li- ^ , The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred reaching the ground the Hd had flown open, and the necklace was ihrown 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 coflfers 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 I r 2 C 2 i The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont 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 ^t 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 he 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 brilliams each as large as a filbert. This iridescent concentration of wealth was as 6 w Ci'-^iir The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred I I i one might say, placed in my care, tnH 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 tiie 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 i:otels 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 7 \ 2 C I |2 '3 The rriumphs of Eugene Valmont able or likely to purchase the necklace. Many of them would not be present in person at the auction rooms • the.r bidding would be done by agents. This simplified matters a good deal, for the agents kept me duly in- formed of their purpo ,s, 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 ot,t of ten has but scant Idea of the dangers that threat, him, bevond k lowing 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 r ,ted 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 UJ'J.-' The Finding of the Fated Five Hundred J I stationed trusty men .Aitside on the Boulevard des Itahens, each of whom knew by sight most of the prob- able purchasers of the necklace. It was arranged that when liie 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 thmg 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 qtii Vive, and felt itself pitted against the scoundrelism of the world. For one reason or another it was nearly halt 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 i-ver' chair was occupied, and still a number of the visi- tors were compelled to stand. I stationed m^■self 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. i s r 2 C 2 < in 3 CHAPTER II THE SCENE IN THE SALE ROOM BERY quietly the auctioneer began by sayu^g 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- 'red 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 /-illion mark the competition thinned down to a few dealers from 10 The Scene in the Sale Room H^burg and ,l,e Marquis of Warlingham. from Ene- land, when a voice that had -. yet L„ heard ,„ .5 auction roc™ .as Hfted in a tone oVsome "„;" e ."" ' One million dollars I " There was an instant h„sl,, followed bv the scrib- ing of pencis, as each person present re,l„ced the ,"m EneshT '"V" '''' °"" "-™0-po„nds for ,h" TtlTuT, "Sgressive tone and the clear-cut face the financM denomination he had used. In a moment . was real,«d that his bid was a clear leap oTl than two million francs, and a sigh went up fromThe audience as if this settled it, and the grea' rwa! or.he^Tft;:ir;„Th:TTd "-'"- ^^ ;on. line of faces r„r::rrr.rt^Zd"*! luctant to tan the hnarri k.,* »ccinea re- n.f« , "p ine board, but no one ventured to com- cust'Zr" "'""'" •" "*"■' '^""'•"^ °-^ '-™^<' 'h' "Cash," replied the American; "here's a check for •he amount, ril take the diamonds with me " Your request is somewhat unusual," protested the auctioneer mildly. can" "™r,h"Ir'./°".""'"'' '"""""•'"' *= Ameri- wiU not^^-, ^"^ ' ""'' ™-" "°' >« -^hed. You will not ce ,t IS drawn on the Crcdit-Lv ,;. ^^.h is practically next door. I must have th .s'^Am:! II 2 C 2 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont Send round your messenger with the check ; it will take only a few ir" .utes to find out whether or not the money is there to meet it. The necklace is mine, and I insist on having it." The auctioneer with some demur handed the check to the representative of the French Government who was present, and this official himself went to the bank. There were some other things to be sold, and the auc- tioneer endeavored to go on throi.jh the list, but no one paid the slightest attention to him. Meanwhile I was studying the countenance of the man who had made the astounding bid. when I should instead have adjusted my preparations to meet the t.. .. conditions now confronting me. Here was a man about whom we knew nothing whatever. I had come to the instant conclusion that he was a prince of criminals, and that a sinister design, not at that moment fathomed by me, was on foot to get possession of the jewels. The handing up of the check was clearly a trick of some sort, and I fully expected the official to return and say the draft was good. I detv rmined to prevent this man from getting the jewel box until I knew more of his game. Quickly I removed from my place near the door to the auctioneer's desk, having two objects in view: first, to warn the auctioneer not to part with the treasure too easily; and, second, to study the suspected man at closer range. Of all evil-.'oers tlie American is most to be feared ; he uses more ingenuity in the planning of his projects, and will take greater rirks in carrying them out than any other malefactor on earth. 13 r^^R ; ,. i"r^i The Scene in the Sale R oom iTom my new static, 1 saw there were two men to deal wuh. fhc bidder's face was keen and intellectual; Ins hands refined. ladylike, clean, and white, showing they were long divorced from manual labor, if indee t..ey had ever done any useful work. Coolness and im- perturbability were his beyond a doubt. The companion who sat at his right was of an entirely diflferent stamp. H.S hands were hairy and sun-tanned ; his face bore the stamp of grim determination and unflinching bravery I knew that these two types usually hunted in couples- the one to scheme, the other to execute, and they always /ormed a combination dangerous to encoun^r and diffi- cult to circumvent. There was a In.zz of conversation up and down the hall as these two men talked together in low tones I knew now that I was face to face with the mosf hazard- ous problem of my life. I wlmpered to the auctioneer, who bent his Uad to l>stem He knew very well who I was. of course. You must not give up the necklace," I began He shrugged his shoulders. " I atn under the orders of the official from the Min- istry of the Interior. You nmst speak to him " " I shall not fail to do so." I replied. " Nevertheless, do not give up the box too readily." "I am helpless," he protested with another shrtig 1 obey the orders of the Government." Seeing it was useless to parley further with the auc- tioneer, set my wits at work to meet the new emer- gency. I felt convinced that the check would prove to r 2 C 2 z 3 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 governmefit 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 i 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 luctioneer. " 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." IS 5 r m H z c 2 < m CO 5 The Triumphs of Eugene Valtnont " 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 rctam the five milhon francs, and refuse to hand over to h„n 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 dunng 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 dramatic .iily : " The jewels belong to monsieur." The two Americans rose simultaneously, the tal' holdmg 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, tl:en 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 An(. aow 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- t'on; 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 i6 I 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 a-' dommeering voice, asking the auctioneer to trans- laie what he had to say into French and German; he spoke in English. "These here shiners are valuable; they belong to my friend who has just gone out. Casting no reflections on the generality of people in this room, there are, never- heless. 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 e ,avor. but 'f they are not granted I am going to take them as a ngnt. Any man who moves will --et 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. " Mv fnend is from New York and he distrusts the police as much as he docs the grafters. You may be twenty detec- 17 s r 2 c 2 < PI 5 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, a 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 i8 The Scene in the Sale Roo m 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 I'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 cab, and drove toward the Place de I'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 Anier- ican while you followed the cab? " " I did shout to the nearest man, sir, but he said you told him t > stay there and watch the English lord, and even before he had spoken both American and cabman were out of sight." 19 s 1:0 r 2 C 2 < 3 vmsssssmnss-^fm^SBK^rs.' The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont •' 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? " " ^^\^'^ not speak to the American, sir. but he said to^the cabman, ' Drive to the Madeleine as quickly as you " 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 mcompetent 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 should they be so fortunate as to find any of them I now learned how the rogue with the pistols van- 1 hed so comi^etely 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 tlie rear of the premises. As the attendant in charge confessed when questioned, he had been bribed by the American earher 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 seemeu 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 5 1:0 r m H z c 2 < m (A 5 The Triumphs of Eugen, FalmonI " Was he a Frenchman ? " America;.""' "' """ ' '°™«""' "'^" ^"g"^'' <" " Was he carrying a box ? " '•No sir; he hdd in his hand a small leather bag." Where did he tell jou to drive ' " iust"d'^L'n'''r '° '"""'" "" '^""' '■" ''•°"'' "hich had ac tT f,""' ''"""' '°™'-'' *' Madeleine. In fact I heard the man, such as you describe, order the other cabman to drive to the Madeleine. I had come a cab, but the open cab cut in ahead of me. lust then mv passenger stepped up and .said in French, but vUh a foreign accent : ■ Follow that cab u-herever i, goes > " 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 n,et ^second got mto the closed cab directly behind vou " 'Well, sir," stammered the spy, ''I could not look n two d.recfons a. the same time. The American ce" a,nly wen, down the side street, but of course I watched the cab which contained the jewels " elbo'wl "'' '"" ''" "°"""^ °' "■' '^°'"' "" "gh' ^' >•"" me„7''' ^/l"""""^ *"' '"" °' ""='• »■•■•• and the pave- ment crowded with passers-by, as it always is at Aa, hour of the day, and I have only two eyes i„ my head/' 22 The Scene in the Sale Roo m " 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 tlie 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 5 r z c 2 < rn ;» CO 3 The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont " He ran after the first man, and also went aboard tlie^^steam launch, which instantly started down the " And that was the last you saw of them ? " "Yes, sir." " At what time did you reach the Tent de Neuilly ? " " i \i V --^ The Scene in the Sale Room All this, of cr . . was perfectly justifiable, and « seemed, m truth, merely a weiMaid scheme for escaping observation. His only danger of being tracked was when he got mto 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 ust 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 shouW not have found the slightest excuse for arrest- ing h,m But he was accessory after the act in that pece of .llegahty-i„ 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 oS"''7/", r' '"^ ^^" '^^^ ^"^^^^-^d 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 s r m H O 2 C 2 < m C/3 5 25 CHAPTER III THE MIDNIGHT RACE DOWN THE SEINE IITH a map of the river befon 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 mv men 26 The Midnight Rare Doun the Seine to hold the train while I w.-nt into the telegraph office, cleared the wires, and got into communication with the lock master at Mculan. 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 slow 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 n^, 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- gardmg her movements were accurate to the letter. But a trap most carefully set may be prematurely sprung by madvertence, 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 tiie yacht had just 27 r m H O z c < rn :;? 3 :^MM'- ^-«/ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont cleared. The fool shouted to the captain to return, threatening him with all the pains and penalties of the law if he refused. The captain did refuse, rang on full speed ahead, and disappeared in the darkness. Through 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 iiad 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 froi.. 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 3B»Ri:"«W^ ^^Msjffma^ I The Midnight Race Down the Seim authorities. Even if he got away for the moment he must know that arrest was certain, and that his punish- ment would be ivcrc. Ki: only plea could be that h- had not heard a d i.nderstoc the order to return. But this plea would b- invalidatt J 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 r m H o c :z < 5 &^^;^>i \ ^ .-??. 'r» 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 v.'f-re 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 lierc 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 t'- 11 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 r n H o :2 c 2 < rn C/) 3 ■, y. OmX^'S'ifiMSVii The Triumphs of Eugene Valmonl sa.d that if I reached Havre at a certain time a thou- sand francs extra would e 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 che 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 mto his handbag, although I said nothing of it at the t.me. 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 mformation 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 forwPrd 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 T told you, when I ran aft I saw I Z2 I ; 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, saymg nothing in spite of the overwhelming evidence against him. " Will you oblige me by removing your false beard? " He did so at once, throv.'ing 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." r n H o 2 C 2 < m :;? 5 zz ■^^ki-E^uap,,:^- V ■- 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 uo 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. 1 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 1 The Midnight Race Doun the Seini 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 thir, proved possible. If -he 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 r m H O 2 C 2 < C/5 ^^!i? The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont " Why (lid you do that ? " " As a detective you should know whv 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 ,t was daylight. I, supported bv 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. Inquirv by the police m London proved that what he said of himself was true His case, however, began to look very serious when two 36 ^mas^^^Mr^s^^^m^ The Midnight Race Down the Sei ne of t!ie 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 resvlt. The case had excited much attention throughout the worid, 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 Julfs, 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 r n H o 2 c 2 < a 5 i>7 '^^f.^' T !.-■•.«>, ^.-^^ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont raonds, and through extensive advertising succeeded in Hccumulat- ing a fortune of many millions. I was in Europe when the necklace was found, and had in my possession over a thousand i.Ti-tation 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 mea.surement.s, and also obtained photographs of it taken by the French Government. Then I .set my expert friend Martin Dulx>is at work, and with the artificial su^nes I gave h.m he made an imitation necklace s^. closely resembling the ongmal that you apparently do not know it is the unreal you have m 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 overiook the obvious, but would at once follow a clew >f I provided one for them. Consequently, I laid my plans, just as you have discovered, and got Martin Dubois up from Rouen o carry the ca.se I gave hirr down to Havre. I had had another box pv < .-ed and wrapped in brown paper, with my address in New ^or. .Keen thereon. The moment I emerged from the auction oom, while my friend the cowboy was holding up the audience, I turned my ace 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 Ixjgus 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 stnng did up the real diamonds for posting. I labeled the package Books, went to the nearest post ofTice, 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 tram for London, and the day after sailed from Liverpool on the Lucama. I arrived before the Gascogne, which sailedfrom 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 •>& ts 'js,, sn'<.'^fii7je»(i.Mi:zi'3i..-ni. ''mismcramsneM ' 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 mc the greatest advertisement that ever wai*. Yours truly, John P. IlAZARn. 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 sea-ching Paris for him. It took Mr. Hazard longer to make his imitation necklace than he supposed, and several years later he Ixjoked his passage with the two necklaces on the ill- fated steamer Bour^i^opic, 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. 33 r H O 2 C 2 < rn 5 59 CHAPTER IV THE onniTiKs 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 m\ stery 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, an.l often with astonishment, and if I now set down some of the differences between the English ami the French. 1 trust that no note of criticism of the former will ap- pear, even when my sympathies are entirely with the latter. These difTercnces have sunk deeply into my min.l 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 puni 'led, my experience enables me to state very emphatically that thi.s happens not nearly so often as the public imagines. In ninety-nine cases out of a hunc'.ed 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 persnrtde an Englishman of this. Mon Dieu! I have tried it often enough. Never shall I forget tlic bitterness of my disappoint- 4 41 r m H O c < fTl 3 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 m.:.'k^m,\^m. 1R< ' ^ 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 agamst me. And here I may be pardoned for pointing out another portentous d-ssimilarity 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 queens necklace I had undoubtedly failed, but, on the other hand, I had followed unerringly the clew which lay m my path, and although the conclusion was not in accordance with the facts, it was in accordance with ogic. ^o, I was not dismissed because I failed I had failed on various occasions before, as might happen to any man m 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 turmng of a joke against him, but the Englishman does not appear to care in the least. So far as failure is con- iTlid :-rhTr'"' "'' "'" '"'"' ^° egregiously as did with Felim, a slippery criminal who possessed all he bravery of a Frenchman and all the subtlety of an Italian. Three times he was in my hands-twice in Pans, once in Marseilles-and each time he escaped me; )et 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. 43 r H 2 C 2 5 The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont 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 crimi . 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 &V.X6** 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 usedi 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 2 C 2 5 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont " What is your proof against this Italian ? " asked tlie inspector slowl'' " 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 1 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. 46 I 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 aftc" 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 O 2 C 2 3 i^ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont person. I therefore reconstructed my flat, and placed m the center of ic 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 sent the foul a.r up that flue, and drew down fresh air hrough the other. The entrance to this cell opened out from my bedroom, and the most minute inspection would have fa.^d 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 nothmg because the first turn of the button lit the elec- tric hght 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 \:Z:^ ib^LiJOSii '•T^jTxsfr^ ■r-^ •r'' necessary .hat the conclaiis. I here are three mcihcls of Kctlin,. this .n.oln«c„ce. ..irst. „eri„.h- al rai.ls „,„n ,„t ^Z acco,„pa,,H.,l h, confiscation and search of all pa ^ o . -.H'.ho„ is n„,ch in favor with the rLI:: bccanse the anarch.sts are no. snch fools. spcakinR gen- era l>s a., ,„ c„,n„,i, their p„r,K,ses to writing: anS see- on, . hecanse ,. leads ,„ reprisal. Each raiS is us'ua y folbwe, hy a fresh onthreak of activity on the part o^ those left free. The secon.l method is\o b il^ an an archts. to betray his comrades. , have never found any -Mculty n, getting ,:,ese gentry to accept • ,„ey Thev are eternally in nc-ed. but I usually fi„d ,• -^Z^Z > g.vc ,n return to be cither unintpo , .n, or inaceu rate There reina ns. then, the third n,ctho,l, which is o place a spy an.ong then,. The spy battalion s the fo on, ho,, of the detective service. In one year I os, ■hrc^ .uen on anarchist duty, antong the victims be „ ' m.v most valuable •,el,.r. Henri nris.s„n. Poor Brisson! fate was an exantple of how a man may follow a peril- ous «e „,on for months with safety, and then by a shght mistake bring disaster on himself. At the last gathering Hrisson attended he received 52 'wrSk'.y The Oddities of the English news of such immciliatc and fateful import that. (»n emerging from the cellar where the gathering was held, he made directly for my residence instead of going to his own squalid nxmi in the Rue l-algario. My concierge said that he arrived shortly after one o'clock iu the morning, and it would seem that at this hour he could easily have made himself acquainted with the fact that he was folk)wed. Still, as there was on his track that human panther, Felini, it is not strange i>oor Brisson failed to elude him. Arriving at the tall building in which my flat was then situated, Brisson rang the Ix'll, and the concierge, as usual, in that strange state of semisomnolencc which' envelops concierges during the night, pulled the loopnl wire at the head of his bed, and unlxjlted the door. Bris- son assuredly ck)sc(l the huge door behind him, and yet. the moment be ore 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 53 o C 5 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont death V r.ant. Felini followed him up to the first land- •ng-rr-v i nis xverc on the second floor-and there placed h.s snrn manual on the imfortunate man. which was tb. ,v;ft downward stroke of a long, narrow, sharo r-nu. ., entering the body below the shoulders and .,; ror.K .'ie heart. The a.lvantage presented by this I. r^,h!, , low is that the victim sinks instantly in a heap a U, r.ct of h.s slayer, without uttering a moan. The^.o.md -c(t is . ,rcely perceptible blue mark wluch •.....,..„: ,j. It was this mark I saw on the bo. .^ of (. , ,i, f Marseilles, and afterwards on mark c.nd on the , .an in Greenwich Park, always just below the left shoulder blade, struck from behind Fe- hn.s comrades claim that there was this nobilitv in his acfon. na.nely. ho all,>wed the traitor to prove 'himself before he struck the blow. I should be sorry to take away th.s poor shred of credit from Felini's character but the reason he followed Brisson into the courtyard was to g.ve himself ti.ue to escape. He knew perfectly the wavs of the concierge. He knew that the body would he there until the mornin.^ as it actually did. and that th.s 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 ! f^^F'c . mo-f '"; ^'■,'''°"'' ^''^'^ ^'"'''' I ^^^°'^^^ to set no rno e 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 .:«i?A>TW.. f ^^■•.«.•^ n^'m ^:fj*4 The OJJitifs of the English workings of the It.tanalional. I j■••• ''^ "- English say When „ first became known that there was to be , w.shoSH;ii.'':ja¥T. The Siamese Twin of a Bomb Th rower later to the office floor, I, Eugene Valrnont, myscl , r the first time in several days. Even then I did not take a cab to my flat, but passed tmder the arched Strand front of the Cecil in a cab, bound for the residence of that noblrman 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 w:>'; not even sure he was fol- lowed. To tell you the truth I do not know to this day whether anyone watc!n.'d v < or not. v"r dW care. I live in the present: whon ow- t!.o past is don.- with, it ceases to exist for me. It is q.iite 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 Rrisson 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 r- 3 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 che French Government. It is but natural, then, that the present authorities should listen with some impatience when tlie 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 ray 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 -reptitious 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 -^^^riga^xi^^:aBsr^a!W^^^^R«»^iig?;jft&i^g^^^tA^^ CHAPTER VI A REBUFF AND A RESPONSE |ERHAPS 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 tabic, 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 ser- :ng your lordship upon two occasions," I began. •'They are well within my r'^collection," 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 O 3 The Triumphs of Eugene Vahnont " 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 ihese 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 cf 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 brmg a grateful harmony to the mind. I deter- mmed 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 ® 7i 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 ? " " I^te 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 Resp onse 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 claimmg 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 m 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-offical, the inference being that thev 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 iaul 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 i 03 I 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 loo 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, appomting 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 iiold himself in readiness to respond to any call you may make, night or day. J assure you that his mere 77 r-n O 12 I 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 piace this amount to your account in his Dank. 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 nic, 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 diflFerent from thi': with which I departed from the residence of the old nobleman in the West End but a few hours before. o C 79 CHAPTER VII IN THE GRIP OP 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 ^SBFAismet iA1kM!iiif.>^ltT*V:S- .<.:-4t»'.\.K.-^'fKr'Sit: 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 ext fuisher, 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 knov.- 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, 8i 5 3 '^ h\V-fi :^;*'A '^^^^ T*r MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 ■^ IIIIM 11? |56 1^2 121 136 1.4 2.0 1.8 1.6 A >IPPLIED IIVMGE Inc ^^ 1653 East Mom Street rjS Rochester. Ne« York 14609 USA ^= (716) 482 - OJOO - Phone ^= (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax 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 ^i^"jfiir 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 S_>cret S-^rvi'ce 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 v. ice, 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 C I 9 .»^?Vi 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 84 O 3 ■' I returned the start' with such compoMirc as I could bring to my aid." 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. " Brothc- 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 i Co 3 The : riumphs of Eugene Falmoni 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 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 nind, 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 clone before, and dropped two Kimps of sugar into it. Over the »hird 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 c«.. 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 ci- Ii- ized smile on his gaunt face. " You're not olTended at what I said in the meeting, I hope?" " Oh, no," I answered. "That's right. You see, I once belonged to the 87 s r-n ■H I 3 lev The Triumphs of Eugene t^almont Secret Service, and if my chief was thcie to-day, wi- would soon find ourselves in a cool dungeon. Wo ouldn'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 EugL-ne 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 nore of anarchists, yes, and of Apa-hes, 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 °y got rid of assistant, they dismissed me as well all his staff. Valmont disappeared. HI could have found him, I wouldn't be sitting here with you to-night . but he was right to disappear. The Governmtnt did all they could against us who had beer, his friend;-, and I for one came through starvation, and was near th row- ing myself in the Seine, which sometimes I wish 1 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 8S In the Grip of the Green De mon the anarchiits. Do you know how I joined? I kia.v all their pass\ crds, and walked right into one of their meetings, alone and in rags. " ' Here am I,' I siid ; ' 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 /ou'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 pciice 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 Oi his order ! Yet my heart warmed toward the wretch whj had remembered me and my exploits. It now became my anxious and difficult task to lure Simard av ly from tnis cafe and its absinth. Glass after glass of the noison had brought him up almost to his former intelleciual level, but now it was shoving him rapidly down the hill again. I murt know where his room was situated, yet if I waited much longer the man 7 89 r-n ■H on the recipes for making his so- called sauces, chutneys, and the like, he ^vould find him- 102 The Dinner for Seven in the Temple self mistaken, for I was now in a fKisition to pick and choose my cases, and a case of pickles did not allure me. " Beware of imitations," said the advertisement ; " none genuine withciit a facsimile of the nature of Bcntham Gibbcs." Ah, well, not for mc were cither 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 dirk frock coat, faultless waistcoat and trousers that proclaimed a Bond Street tailor. When he spoke nis voice and language were those of a gentleman. " Monsieur Valmont ? " he mqui-ed. "At your service," I rc;)lied, bo-ving and waving my hand as Armand placed a chair ior 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 ,ne about which I have now come to s«ek 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 103 The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont 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 Httle 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 Piccaoilly, 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 oflf 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 compan). 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 recognii^able. " Over the coflFee 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 ^ou 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 m 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 ? " ' f Sis 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, T take it?" " >Jo. I am certain that not even suspicion can a tach to either of the waiters." " Your man Johnson ? " " Has been with me for years. He cou.u 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 io6 I The Dinner for Seven in the Temple 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- t.on highly improbable. My rooms are on the third floor, and a thief would scarcely venture to n^ake an entrance when he could not but know there was com- pany being entertained. Besides this, the coat was there Is 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 " fifth TfT """'^ "°''"^ ''"* ''"^ ^^^ '^'^ ^°"^th or fifth tme 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 b« d,ng on the ground floor. He is a very good fe ,„w nd we are by way of bc.ng firm friends, Ivn i, wis e who had called attention to the money, so I though he should know the sequel." ^ " How did he take your news ? " " Now that you call attention to the fact, he seemed sl-ghtly troubled. I should like to sav. however That you must not be misled by that. Lionel' Dacre could no more steal than he could lie." ^^^•jDid he show any surprise when you mentioned the 4 107 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont :i Bentham Gibbcs 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. lie comes of an excellent family, and he is — oh! he is Lionel Dacre, and when yc. have said that you have made any suspicion absurd." " I suppose you caused the rooms to be thoroughlv 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 seme 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 diflfictilty 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 T care about the notes when I say that if you : io8 I The Dinner for Seven in the Temple I are good enough to interest yourself in this case, I shall be disappointed if your fee does not exceed the amount 1 have lost." Mr. Gibbcs rose as he said this, and I accompanied him to the door assuring him that I should dcj my best to solve the mystery. Whetlier 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 j)art 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 o<" the six in pressing need of money at this time. I caused Dacre to b- 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 ? huge case of champagne, be; ring 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 bou^'ht 109 '4 i-«w2a f^^ t 3"WSSS •i. 1-'. The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont 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 tlie 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 mominL' at eleven. IIO CHAPTER X I .1 57 I THE CLEW OF THE SILVER SPOONS IAD 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 vear '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 tn keep a clear head if the aroma of this nectar rises to III !2 ii -^ _ -Pi'V.T"— , !■*■ ■WP^P^ 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— Mon^'Ieur 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 112 The Clew of the Silver Spoons f i (I can see you arc 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. Dacrc, you credit mc 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 perditiori 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 rnorning. Let me fill your glass again. Monsieur V almont." " No more, I beg of you, Mr. Dacre." 113 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 oflf. 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 Itow 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 "^ - Clew of the Silver Spoons another sip of the delicious wine. I sighed, for I began to realize it wps 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 ha " As I made no reply he looi si The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont conjurer's gesticulations, spread forth his Mnpty hands, and said we should find the spoon in Inti.s'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 sec daylight now." " If you do you are cleverer than I by a long chalk, ' cried Benthani 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 nearlv 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 Tts^TzT^ i«\3tiiikis'JSiiimmnwT\k TVW^ The Clew of the Silver Spoons % -KJ. 1 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 tv> enty-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 127 si ^TSFr7%vr^ '^■iv*',.T.vy-: •J'-.V ^?^ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont maniac of some sort. And now, monsieur, was my hint regarding the silver spoons of any vaUie to you? " " Of the most infinite value, Mr. Dacre." " Then let mc 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 hiJ hand, and was looking at it with some surprise. " I think I have not the pleasure of knowing Monsieur Valmont," he said courteously enough.'' " No. I ventured to call on a matter of business. I was onct 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." 128 The Clew of the Silver Spoons " He wishes it returned, docs 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. Pullinp 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. Gibbcs for not returning it before. Tell him I have bvcn unusually bus> 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 pasteboaru o- tcction, and begged me to accept them. 1^ 129 1^ t-€ CHAPTER XI O MY I'KOl'lIETIC SOUL, My UNCLE !" |HE name of the late Lord Chizelrigg never cc^mes to my mind without instantly sujj gcstinj; that of Mr. T. A. Edison. I never saw the late Lord C'hizelrigg, and I have met Mr. ICdison only twice in my life, yet the two men arc linked in my memory, and it was a remark tiie 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 hat! 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 bc- 130 O My Pruphetic Soul. My Incl, . I lief that I might jK-rhaps be able to ward off any attempt on the part of the dcft-handcd gojitry who mi^ht jwssibly make an ctTort to gain these treasures, an resting on a velvet cushion The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont 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 th» 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 oflf, 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 .r.v*"^;--:4' " O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle/ " der at the humble artisan content with a profit of a few francs a day, and at the miUionaire 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 demcnstration 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." ^33 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont 'i. 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 t' ^e 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 •a The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont v accepted the task if your numerous engagements had permitted. Then, if you failed, I should have been un- able to 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 pretenoes. 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." " One 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 Uncle! the possession of something like twenty thoasand 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 ,37 The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont 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 lie 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 - ^r 'HI' wrmm^* *Ki>Vits!*fc'i t« O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle! " tained permission from the courts to cut timber and sell pictures, until he denuded :he estate and made an empty barn of the old manor house. He lived like any laborer, occupying himself sometimes as a cari)enter, sometimes as a blacksmith ; indeed, he made a blacksmith's shop of the library, one of the most noble rooms in Uritain. con- taining tliousands 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. iMany 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 tenned it, which was some seven years ago, he had quite evidently been disposing of books and furniture by 139 :2 -5 The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont a private sale, in defiance of the law. At that time I was under age, but my guardians opposed his application t<» the courts, and demanded an account of the moneys a! 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 comfortablv 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 Chizelrigi^. " I should doubt if that were a legal will," said I. " It doesn't need to be," replied the young man vvitli 140 O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle! I a smile. " I am next of kin, and heir to everything he l)ossessed, 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 smce 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, ^.t .... assure you such is not the case. Incompetent hands, I grant you, but the hands were my own. For thr past six months I have lived practically as my uncle li\ed. 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 53 ma The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I ■r 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 Eng.and 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 go- through every tome, page by page, and I suspect y few of the volumes have been opened for the last wenty years." "How much money do you estimate he accumu- lated?" " He must have cleared more than a hundrtd thou- sand pounds, but speaking of banking it, I would like to say ihat 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 O 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 ine 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 inforuib me, so he must have understood the use 143 r5 jj.mjBm,. .r'nrap The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I ■ '.)t !)lacksmith's tools. He made a carpenter's shop of tIk hief drawing-room and erected a bench there. I tl n.'. a very useful mechanic was spoiled when my uncle 1)< ' ,d, seeing me day after day, coatless, and covcrcti vuth dust, I imagine they think me a second edition of ihe 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 ♦he 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 ted 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 Jm OMy Prophetic Soul, My Uncle/ " of my uncles eccentricities. If i receive your jnirmis- 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 grt {Hjrmission to s^U something that will kocp me from starvation. When I spoke of the house being denuded, I nuant relatively, of ctnirsc. There are still a good many antiquities which would doubtless bring me in a comfortable sum of money. I have been borne rp by the belief that I should find my uncle's gold. Lately I have been beset by a suspicion that the old gentleman thouijht the librarv 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 Englanrl by Caxton, and several priceless Shak spearcs, as well as many other volumes that a collector would give a small fortune for. All these p.re gone. I think when I show this to be the case, the authorities . a.mot refuse me the right to sell something, and, if 1 gc this permis- sion, I shall at once call upon you." " Nonsense, Lord Chizelrigg. Put y.,ur 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 wc can leave fur Chizelrigg Chase. How far is it ? " 145 IFX i^^m TV \r^ % The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont •I, " 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 O My Prophetic Soul, My Uncle/ I shall have learned a great deal about your uncle that you never dreamed of. Higgins will talk more freely with a fellow-servant than with his master, however much he may respect that master, and then, as I am a foreigner, he will babble down to my comprehension, and I shall get details that he never would think of giving to a fellow-countryman." ^2 H7 CHAPTER XII LORD CIIIZLLRIGO'S MISSING FORTUNE jHE 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 severit> 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 tin.hered 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 *•• A Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune which probably looked the larger because of the en- tire absence of any kind of furniture, unless two 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 •5 C: ■2 5:0 T^'V The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I m-, an 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 m the middle ri 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, ri'ght 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 tlie exception of a picture here and there, and these pic- tures oflfered 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 ou' till midnight, aroused no admiration in Higgins's i ad. 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 mv- self completely unable to understand what the old f-llow 151 =2 5 r •5 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I said. His dialect was as unknown to me as the Choctaw language would have been, and the young earl was compelled to act as interpreter on the occasions when we set this garrulous talking machine going. The new Earl of Chizelrigg, with the enthusiasm of a boy, proclaimed himself my pupil and assistant, and said he would do whatever he was told. His thorough and fruitless search of the library had convinced him that the old man was merely chaffing him, as he put it, by leaving such a letter as he had written. His lordship was certain that the money had been hidden somewhere else ; probably buried under one of the trees in the park. Of course, this was possible, and represented the usual method by which a stupid person conceals treasure, yel I did not think it probable. All conversations with Hig- gins showed the earl to have been an extremely suspi- cious man ; suspicious of banks, suspicious even of Bank of England notes, suspicious of every person on earth. not omitting Higgins himself. Therefore, as I told his nephew, the miser would never allow the fortune out of his sight and immediate reach. From the first the oddity of the forge and anvil bein<,' placed in his bedroom struck me as peculiar, and I said to the } oung man : " I'll stake my reputation that that forge or anvil, or both, contain the secret. You see, the old gentleman worked sometimes till midnight, for Higgins could hear his hammering. H he used hard coal on the forge, tlie fire would last through the night, and being in continual terror of thieves, as Higgins says, barricading the castle 152 «."•-«• VKW* ^Wt. M 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 unHkely spot for a thief to get at it. Now, the coal fire smoldered alt 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. The more it resisted our eflforts, the more certain we be- " 153 i I fsri^m The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I r r ••I «: 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 tlie 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. 1 he mansion itself was barricaded wi^'" such exceeding care that it would have been difficult ■ • 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 roceed 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 ilic margin of every newspaper, piling them away m 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 ■2 i The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont C I •>1 r lu.. c 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 searcli 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 ♦he 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 Chizeirigg's Missing Fortune " I came on this," he said, " when I took down all these volumes. It appears that there was onte 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 uken 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 well 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 tiie next item on the pro- gramme? " "Your uncle's mania for bitving 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 i t I r The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont ever, that it cost twelve-aml-sixiKncc, while the cost of carriage by parcel post was sixi)cnce, which shows it weighed something under four pounds. This, with the price of the bocjk, induces me to think it was a scientific work, printed on heavy pai>er and illustrated " " I know nothing of it," said the carl, " 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 suj)- plied by a tradesman in the station road in the village of Chizelrigg." " There's your wall paper," cried the youth, waving his hard; "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 likclv," replied the carl. " I intended to 158 Lord Chtzelrigg's Missing Fortune have the paper off, but I had no money to i a work- man, and I am not so industrious as wa^ 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 thousati I sheets were supplied, although, of course, it may h'.v,c Ixrn a thousand quires, which would be a little more rcaso! -i1)le for the price charged, or a thousand reams, which would Le exceedingly cheap." " I don't know anythinj,' 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 .-v v v to the glossy paneling, so he had purchased a c! <: per paper, and had pasted that on first. Higgins said h^ ' 't gone all over the paneling with a yellowish-white p. f : •, and after that was dry he pasted over it the more exptr 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 5 5 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont r 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 ir >t 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 : i6o 5 ;■■»-;■.:■» it.* i-i;-i>.v':';i«^!;: WWI^A^SJTlUtliyvr, i,<-\ •!■ 1' ■ m •i7-'Tr.:.'».'«*ii.. ' "^SKSfkil S: -:'^^^['-'^ ■J:'i^i.\?}imd Lord Chizelrigg's Missing Fortune The first thing to be done is to inclose this bill to Denny & Co., booksellers, Strand. Tell them you have lost the volume, and ask them to send another. There IS hkely some one in the shop who can decipher the illeg- ible writmg. I am certain the book will give us a clew Now, I shall write to Braun & Sons, Budge Row! This IS evidently a French company; in fact, the name as connected with paper making runs in my mind, al- though I cannot at this moment place it. I shall ask them the use of this paper that they furnished to the late This was done accordingly, and now, as we thought until the answers came, we were two men out of work Yet the next morning, I am pleased to say, and I have always rather plumed myself on the fact, I solved the mystery before replies were received from London Of course, both the book and the answer of the paper agents by puttmg two and two together, would have given us the key. After breakfast I strolled somewhat aimlessly into the library, whose floor was now strewn merely with brown wrapping paper, bits of string, and all that. As I shuffled among this with my feet, as if tossing aside dead autumn leaves in a forest path, my attention was suddenly drawn to several squares of paper, unwrinkled. and never used for wrapping. These sheets seemed to me strangely familiar. I picked one of them up, and at once the significance of the name Braun & Sons occurred to me. T:.cy are paper makers in France, who produce a smooth, very tough sheet, which, dear as it is, proves i6i 5 S: : •V, infinitely cheap compared with the fine'vellum it deposed heteir i^r •" '•"T- '" '"'- ^-"^"' inese sheets had g,ven me the knowledge of how a «„J of .hteves disposed of their gold wiLut milt nf t' The paper was used instead of vellun, in the rough ; sZt". T"''""™« S"'" '-'■ I' ='ood the co" urn. beattng of the hammer nearly as well as the vellum .nd here at once there flashed on me the secret o I' old man s midnight anvil work. He was lr,t,! ■'rurrjr r '-'■ "■'""-• ''™"™" a rude, th.ck kmd, because to produce the gold leaf of commerce he still needed the vellum as wel a a no .'fee. " °*" "'"'■'"">•• °' "«^>' - -ad f^nd o.h:iv:;i'.:::^ !r^ ~' (h-- a. the anvnofyourow„rshcLr„':er:.t*-— e -sr:i^„^-r;— -™ cau.V!:sT:ci^a:edtir:e::\.::; irr;^^^^ ing of the book, of wall coveri,^. of thK , T '" from France, all group themseK« into 'Ztjf T' cceurring within the same month a t he p„ chl ^f tt crrrdT:-irT^ *-"^^^^ of paper he got from Budge Row ZT """ """'^ anything like it? Try to Lf7^ ^ampTe^™ ''" '- ,,„, V^asonably tough," admitted his lordship fruit lessly endeavoring to rip it apart. ^' 162 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 tnake 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 porotij^ 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 20 3 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I 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 expeni Ive 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 jOME years ago I enjoyed the unique expe- rience of pursuing a man for one crime, ai.d 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 ntm^ "9 5; t I t I.. ' ii; ' In The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont put on the superior smile which so well becomes him. and If you are a very intimate friend of his, he may draw down the lid of his right eye as he replies: " Oh, yes ; a very decent fellow, Valmont, but he's a Frenchman I " as if. that said, there was no need of further inquiry. Myself, I like the English detective very much, and If I were to be in a mClce to-morrow, there is no man I would rather find beside me than Spenser Hale. In any situation where a fist that can fell an ox is desirable my friend Hale is a useful companion, but for intellectu- ality, mental acumen, finesse-ah, well ! I am the most modest of men, and will say nothing. It would amuse you to see this giant come into my room durmg an evening, on the bluflF pretense that he wishes to smoke a pipe with me. There is the same diflference between this good-natured giant and myself as exists between that strong black pipe of his and my delicate cigarette, which I smoke feverishly, when he is present, to protect myself from the fumes of his terrible tobacco. I look with delight upon th^ htt,fe man, who, with an air of the utmost good humor, and a twinkle in Ins eye as he thinks he is twisting me about his finger vainly endeavors to obtain a hint regarding whatever case IS perplexing him at that moment. I baffle him with the ease that an active greyhound eludes the pursuit of a heavy mastiff, then at last I say to him. with a laugh • Come, mon ami Hale, tell me all about it, and I will help you if I can." Once or twice at the beginning he shook his massive i66 The Futility of a Search Warrant & I 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 Ci.uie 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 m Scotland Yard, there is one department of activity m 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 30 sT^^.^ :;• t I III! 111. Mil ^, The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont you need not be disappointed if you fail to find what you are m search of when all the legal restrictions are comphed with. Of course, the English are a very excel- lent people, a fact to which I am always proud to bear testimony, but it must be admitted that for cold com- mon sense the French are very much their superiors. In ^ans, ,f I wish to obtain an incriminating document I do not send the possessor a carte postalc to inform him of my desire, and in this procedure the French people sanely acquiesce. I have known men who. when they go out to spend an evening on the boulevards, toss their bunch of keys to the concierge, saying: " If you hear the police rummaging about while I'm away, pray assist them, with an expression of my dis- tinguished consideration." I remember, while I was chief detective in the serv- ice of the French Government, being requested to call at a certain hour at the private hotel of the Minister for Foreigii Affairs. It was during the time that Bis- marck meditated a second attack upon my countrv. and I am happy to say that I was then instrumental in sup- plying the Secret Bureau with documents which mollified that iron man's purpose, a fact which I think entitled me to my country's gratitude, not that I ever even hinted sucha claim when a succeeding ministry forgot my services. The memory of a republic, as has been said by a greater man than I, is short. However, all that has nothing to do with the incident I am about to relate I merely mention the crisis to excuse a momentary for- getfulness on my part which in any other country might 168 Mm'km.'i^s^'ima^l'>'::mx^7^m^f^ The Futility of a Search H'arrant have b.o„ followed by scrim,, results to mvselt. nu. a. .'HrsL'; !r;Ce"a;"vv ' r," '" ^"^ "'-"'" """•^•' ..tt .A . ^ ^^'■'^- ^ ^'" "dually the calm, o ected Lugene Valmont whom nothing can perturb hut th.s was a tunc of great tension, and I had bccomj bsorbed. I was alone with the minister in his private house and one of the papers he wished was in his bu- reau a the Ministry for Foreign Affairs; at least, he thought so, and said: "Ah! it is in my desk at the bureau. How annoy- ing! Imust send for it!" ^ "No Excellency." I cried, springing up in a self- obhv,on the most complete; " it is here." Touching the ^rmg 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 tlie^Jamt smUe on his lips, that I realized what I had "Valmont." he said quietly, "on whose behalf did you search my house ? " " Excellency." I replied in tones no less agreeable than h.s own. "to-night at your orders I pay I domi- t^l kI '° ''.' "'""" "' ^^^°" Dumoulaine, who stands high m the estimation of the President of the French Republic. If either of those distinguished gen- lemen should learn of my informal call, and should ask me m whose mterests I made the domiciliary visit what 's It you wish that I should reply > » ^2 109 i .0 3 MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHARf (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) '- IIIM 150 '""== li^ mil u [2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ /APPLIED IIVHGE 1653 Easl Mam Street Rochester. Ne* York '4609 USA (7!6) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fa» r •i(( ^; fh, >IH 5:' hn ti)) "Si 1 1 '"• N, »l». f ti. III! 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. N, m. ''It III. iili I'M 170 CHAPTER XIV MR. SPENSER HALE OF SCOTLAND YARD WELL remember tlie November day when I first heard of the Summertrees case, because there hung over London a fog so thick that two or three times I lost my way, and no cab was to be had at any price. The few cabmen then in the streets were leading their animals slowly along, making for their stables. It was one of those depressing London days which filled me with ennui and a yearning for my own clear city of Paris, where, if we are ever visited by a slight mist, it is at least clean, white vapor, and not this horrible London mixture saturated with suffocating car- bon. The fog was too thick for any passer to read the contents bills of the newspapers plastered on the pave- ment, and as there were probably no races that day the newsboys were shouting what they considered the next most important event — the election of an American President. I bought a paper and thrust it into my pocket. It was late when I reached my flat, and, after dining there, which was an unusual thing for me to do, I put on my slippers, took an easy-chair before the fire, and began to read my evening journal. I was distressed to learn that the eloquent Mr. Bryan had been defeated. 171 =0 i T1 3 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I" »: *.; '"'■' «-, • •,,; '""■ ^'< I •*.. '■' • ^'■htt '*.,. '■■■• ■►■Ill ^ 'I,;., 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 tho 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 V i "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, indicatmg 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 co pieiely 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 ' ~"iprehension. "You are a ver\, ,ery 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 ^7Z i 3 The Triumphs of ^-tgene Valmont *, I , -■ I- t ;:: %. "Hi:: partial closing of the eyes which always distinguishes Spenser Hale when he places on the table a problem which he expects will baffle me. If I said he never did baffle me, I would be wrc 'g, of course, for sometimes the utter simplicity of thi, puzzles which trouble him leads me into v.n intricate involution entirely unnecessary in the circumstances. I pressed my finger tips together, and gazed for a few moments at the ceiling. Hale had lit his black pipe, and my silent servant placed at his elbow the whisky and soda, then tiptoed out of the room. As the door closed my eyes came from the ceiling to the level of Hale's ex- pansive countenance. " Have they eluded you ? " I asked quietly. "Who?" " The coiners." Hale's pipe dropped from his jaw, but he managed to catch it before it reached the floor. Then he took a gulp from the tumbler, " That was just a lucky shot," he said. " Parfaitcment," I replied carelessly. " Now, own up. Valmont, wasn't it? " I shrugged my shoulders. A man cannot contradict a guest in his own house. "Oh, stow that!" cried Hale impolitely. He is a trifle prone to strong and even slangy expressions when puzzled. " Tell me how you guessed it." " It is very simple, mon ami. The question on which the American election was fought is the price of silver, which is so low that it has ruined Mr. Bryan, and 174 Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard W threatens to ruin all the farniors 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, perha-'s, 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 ^'rom 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 i T1 3 '7o The Triumphs of Eugene Vnlmont ';;3i s, ■■'■n,. •*l^ '.1,,.. 1 '' r '• •!, lilli! ■•»l i" '"•M, "... tt. . "*"i liiin, '^. ' 1, , , •»*, "li;ii; r 'hi.,. **■«, '"II,, 1 **», ''",11. ^: '■11 11,. <\ •'■■-I , were familiar, but this new element sets at naught all your previous formulas. That is how I reasoned the matter out." *' Well. Valmont, you have hit it, I'll sav that for you ; you have hit it. There is a gang of expert coiners who are putting out real silver money, and making a clear shilling on the half crown. We can finrl no trace of the coiners, but we know the man who is shovintr the stuff." ** " That ought to be sufficient," I suggested. " Yes, it should, but it hasn't proved so up to date. Now I came to-night to see if you would do one of your French tricks for us, right on the quiet." "What French trick, Monsieur Spenser Hale?" I inquired with some asperity, forgetting for the moment that the man invari^ibly became impolite when he grew excited. " No offense intended," .said this blundering officer, who really is a good-natured fellow, but always puts his foot in it, and then apologizes. " I want some one to go through a man's house without a search warrant, spot the evidence, let me know, and then we'll rush the place before he has time to hide his tracks." " Who is this man, and where does he live ? " " His name is Ralph Summertrees, and he lives in a very natty little hijou residence, as the advertisements call it, situated in no less a fashionable street than Park Lane." " I see. What has aroused your suspicions against him } " 176 «m|(^:i, Mr. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yani •; Well, you know, that's an expensive district to Uve .n ; 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 dcf>osits 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 Aunt. " 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- co.ned fivc-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 " I see. Then why don't you nab him one day when h.s pockets are stuffed with illegitimate five-shilling pieces ? ® " That could be done, of course, and I've thought of >t, 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 " self? ^""^ "^^ ^°" ^"""^ ^' '' "°' ^^' '"^^ ^°'"^'- him- Now poor H?'e 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 i 2 5 > m The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont c »„,,„ s. ::i *■•, ^«»m •k. '■■iitti 1 1 '"■'-^u N, ••'t«M, <: N, •"■.« Il.li: •.,n:i: »*,, ' m 'iii«.„ *s. '■ Mr, Summertrecs'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." " Yo- 've about hit it again. .Monsieur Valmont. One of my men has been Summertrecs's butler for two weeks, but, as you say, he has found no e ^lence." "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 si -pose the bank has al- lowed you to examine on^ or two of the bags." "Yes, sir, they have, but, you see, banks are very difficult to treat with. They don't like detectives botner- inrr 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 y-ars." "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 vhich 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 lO 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 hm? " 178 x^/r. Spenser Hale of Scotland Yard "W. ', Monsieur Valmont, there is just the same objection to his arrest as to that of Summcrtrcos himself. We could easily arrest both, but we have not the slightest evidence against either of them, and then, although we put the go-betwceni 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 vour no.cs 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 «. v>k." " Ah," cried I. " the French cook ! This case in- terests me. So Summertrc-s has succeeded in com- pletel> disconcerting your man? Has he prevented him gomg Irom top to ;x)ttom of the house ? " " Oh, no! He has rather assisted him 'han otherwise On one occasion he went to the safe, took out the monev. had Podgers-that's my chap's name-hel- him to ccmt «t, and then actually sent Podgers to the bank with the bag of coin." " And Podgers has been all over the place > " "Yes." ■ i 3 179 The Triumphs of Eugene Falmont I- ■" \ " c: :■■■• ^1 ^1 '"■w.i '•■"„.: Saw no signs of a coining establishment ? " " No. It is absolutely impossible tliat any coining can be clone there. Besides, as I tell you. that res,H.-ctablc clerk brmgs 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 Stimmertrecs 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 anv business." "Oh, an author, is he.' When does he no his writing? " '' He locks himself up most of the day in l.is study." " Does he come out for lunch ? " "No; he lights a little spirit lamp inside, Podgers tells me, and makes himself a cup of coflfee, 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 I in the evening, when he hai 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- i8o Mr. Spenser Ilalc of Scotland Yard npcan cctablc ion?" nth, I ythinj; house, after jland. ;imatc u say lie t any > his xyr Igers h he t up 6 :he;n ench il ward with pleasure to making chc ac.|uai.itan.c of Mr Sumincrtrecs. Is there any restriction on the going and coming of your man Podgers ? " " None in the least. He can get awav either night or day." " Very good, friend Hale; bring him here to-nmrruw as soon as our author locks himself up in his study, or rather. I should say. as soon as the resnectable clerk leaves for Tottenham Court Road, which ' .,ould guess as you put it. is about half an hour after his master turns the key of the room in vhich he writes." " You are quite right in that guess, Valmr-nt. 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 m the least that the master gets to work earlier in die 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 whde you were speaking, and at the same time my estimate of Podgers's craft has been as steadily declin- es:. However, bring the man here to-morrow, that I may ask him a few questions." ■5 i n o o for- i8i •N, """111 ••", ""•«i„ »«l '"'HI,, t ' ■• N, •""«.„ At: '"'"H» V, " „, *», '"Itll,,, •«», "lis:;:; ^S '■''"■•ii *., '"IHI,,, *» '"111,, *'^■ '"'nio., ^'v, I. CHAPTER XV THE STRANGE HOUSE IN PARK LANE I EXT day, about eleven o'clock, the pon derous Podgers, hat in hand, followed hi chief into my room. His broad, impas sive, immobile, smooth face gave hin rather more the air of a genuine butlei than I had expected, and this appearance, of course, wa? 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 lie pon- wed his impas- ve him ; butler se, was IS were o much 'odgers d Hale identlv like a ropped '^ou on lepend e, and " At prompt six, sir." " Does he ring, or let himself in with a latchkey > " " With a latchkey, sir." * " How does he carry the money' " shoulderV'"'' '"''''" '"'"'■ "''''•' '''' '""^ ^^^'^ ^'^ " 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?" kind"^'"^ ^ ^^^' '''■ ^^' ''"'' ""^ ^^'"^ old-fashioned "Then the clerk unlocks his leather money bae?" " Yes, sir." ' ^ ' "That's three keys used within as many minutes. Are they separate or in a bunch ? " " In a bunch, sir." keys'?^' "^ ^""^ ^^^' ''^ -'°"'' "'^'^"" '^''^^' *^'' ^""^^ °f " 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." th.t'tf''' ^°t^""'' ^""^ ^'' neglecting the big things in that house I Sure you can't remember ? " Ao, Sir. 183 2 i 2 n o o The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont t s; :::::i;; •N, fc, ^ '■"•oi., *. ' B», ^, •h.., "..! ""■'1.;!! «.,, ""'-■I;:; C.:; "'"".., ''•■■') »»,,[ M-.i,, n., . ■^t Illii;;;;;. •^. •%, l)||i!;..». r '"•"«..! """•h, •k., ''"UWf fl, ' V, ''Mll,»!ll •*«; '"'■"«',, '"•"•lltl. 1. "H.| " 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, siV." " 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 , what vants, ;ment, t it is sir.' D his The Strange House in Park Lane " Yes, sir." " Never rings for anything during the day ? " " Not that I know of, sir." " What sort of a man is he ? " Here Podgers was on familiar ground, and he rattled off a description minute in every particular " What I meant was, Podgers, is he silent, or talk- ative, or does he get angry? Does he seem furtive, sus- picious, anxious, terrorized, calm, excitable, or what?" " Well, sir, he is by way of being very quiet, never has much to say for hisself; never saw him angry or excited." " Now. Podgers, you've been at Park Lane for a fortnight or more. You are a sharp, alert, observant man. What happens there that strikes you as unusual ? " "Well, I can't exactly say, sir." replied Podgers, looking rather helplessly from his chief to myself, and back again. " Your professional duties have often compelled you to enact the part of butler before, otherwise you wouldn't do It so well. Isn't that the case ? " Podgers did not reply, but glanced at his chief This was evidently a question pertaining to the service, which a subordinate was not allowed to answer. However Hale said at once: '' Certainly. Podgers has been in dozens of place- " " Well. Podgers. just call to mind some of the other households where you have been employed, and tell me any particulars in which Mr. Summertree's establish- ment differs from them." ^3 185 i n o o s s. "I* ^. "l, " "'•*«( •<, 'l'IHl#,,- 1 ""'*'l.i 1 ''"♦"I,,, N, ""•'IB,,;. t v, *♦■!., «.,; ''"'inZ *.! |/M,:;j,^ I:- ►'N... h, <%. hijl'mmi %. •»«, "«t!:s:;: ■>«, '"»«.»« 1*,^ ?.: '"^"•Nli 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, i86 se. Hard ine?" ivial." fs, he's I so far ed, but I 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 a!!, 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 mys.'-lf. 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 carefullv again." " Did you notice that extracts have been clipped from any of them ? " No. sir. Does Mr. Summertrees keep a scrapbooki Not that I know of sir. Oh, the case is perfectly plain ! " said I, leaning back i n o o 187 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont J "«t. s ■^■l- -I; ^, %,. >-* ••, '■""♦•.!^.. r '"■'-u. r '" '■, N, •**'■'<•... K b. . *., ""■«.'." *.i te",-.". 'Mil:;: ^. Hit;:;-,, ^. ' '"* K, «J ^, '•'l,.,«.ll» *^1 '"■"...,^ ^'- •» ••>. I.,-,, in my chair, and regarding the puzzled ilale with tha cherubic expression of self-satisfaction which I know i so annoying to him. "What's perfectly plain?" he demanded, mon gruffly perhaps than etiquette would have sanctioned. " Summertrees is no coiner, nor is he linked with an\ 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 reside' ce as that in Park Lane." A* 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 fan v. 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 Home in Park Lane could no. have made a more sensible series of remarks et;::;"r:x-"->----ave.:'; Last n „.ht, my dear Hale, you supposed this man "•as ,„ league with coiners, To-d,.y you W he is „«" 1 know you sa\ he is not " .n,iLg7l'.'"'''''°"'''"''-''"-<'"'^^.ebro^ " 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 • _^_^ „ N ery good. Not to put ,^ fi„e a point upon it, I ••In that case, my dear Podgers, you will return to * res dence of our friend Summertrees, and Jirto" gchcr for me m a bundle all of yesterday's morning and vcnmg papers that were delivered to the ho„™ Can >o.. do that, or are they mixed up in a heap in^The ct" :^':ir^:a:i-h--r-r7:^ "I. upon you a, half past three o'clock exactiv and tre" 189 s n o o The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont «s ■ *:• .,|- ^ *. ' "'*'«««^ %{ , t'M.«..,,, \ '"■ ^ i.< I ' .., •v, ' ...„ K » *., ►-)«. •». lil! ';.,.„ f; ;'"■•--., ^9, ^"H.,, *H' t.iii;^...^. "»., ""H ^, lt«|[M,... ;„S •»>,' ' "iiiw.Tj ?■ -Wf •*•.' "■ ■■..^ *.," """«.h„. *k.,l. I want you to take me upstairs to the clerk's bedroon in the third stoiy, whicli I suppose is not locked durinj the daytime? " " Xo, 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 on< of those ne\.' five-shilling pieces which you believe i 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 oflf before evening," I said, putting it in my pocket, " and I hope none of your men will airest me." " That's all right," laughed Hale as he took his leave. At half past three Podgers was wr.iting 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 Clark's room on the tiiird 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 1/ >edrooni during parture. Totten- ^'ou one ■e 1 , be f white I said, ur men 5 leave, le, and us sav- seemed down er part which to the ;, with which I said, dy." when The Strange TTousc in Park Lane I one considers the smallness of the house. The bed was I all n,ce!y made up. and there were two cha rs in the ; room. ^ theusual washstand and swing mirror were no visible. However, seeing a curtain at the farther end of the room. I drew it a.ide. and found, as I ex- pccted. a fixed lavatory in an alcove of perhaps four eet deep by five in width. As the room was about fif- teen feet w.de. this left two-thirds of the space unac- counted for. A moment later I opened a door which exh.l cd a closet filled with clothes hanging on hooks. Th.s left a space of five feet between the clothes closet and the lavatory. I thought at first that the entrance o 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 ev.- ;^ently plam match boarding, and not a concealed door ihe entrance to the stairway, therefore, must issue from he 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 -as a door. The latch Mrned out to be somewhat in- gemously operated by one of the hooks which held a pa.r of old trousers. I found that the hook, if pressed at h W °"""^'"S^ '^ ^^- -^ond floor, a similar rlT\ T '■°°"'' ''''' •^^"^'■'^^J •" ^'-e. one di- r tly above the other, the only difference being that ---om door gave into the study, instead of into the hall, as was the case with t'.. upper chamber. 191 3 o The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont \ <*< s .„.,|- *"•* »•<.■«'?! 1 '"■■-*.„ 1 ""'""•■■■■•,,, N, '"'"•'■.„ t *. •■.,,,„ *»i iii'a!*.... <:; ■"■-*., *• i. ""-" ■ ■■'»•♦.., , «•. lull!;""-..,, %, ■«■•"• ^, tliei;"-. ::S *>> "''111.."% S '''in.a'Mtil *•> '" „. *.,' •*.:' The study was extremely neat, cither 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 ujwn 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 Nov, if you'll come with me, Podgers, I'll show you liow the trirk 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 lundle I carried to my fiat, gave one of my assistants some instructions, and left him at work on the papers. 192 '»".•.!.•. Ti "»■>*» _ 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 s<>me ancient craftsman. I knew at once from Podgers's description that I vas waited upon by the veritable respectable clerk who brought the bag of money each night to Park Lane, and who, I was certHin. 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 ' " lie asked, and I answered without any eagerness, al- though the question aroused a suspicion that had h^gun 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 2 i The Triumphs of Eugene l^almont ** *i., % r -■• ^ ■••■»,., * •«:" • • ^ , •«■■. •l '''lllo, silver of the realm, the undoubtc» ,.. I' N, "*"••«.«* K ' ••m„„ Ih. , •,, '"■-:■:: *»i H}iv:-^>fr-. ''■i*,^ c '•ft... f '''"'"''"'*.». *«. ••,(,. •♦•'t;,. ""f hwy-... %. -^:: •*, •Wil" . - ::S •*•! ;'"' '^ C; •*•■ '"'.... '"••Xm. *., '""»«r,„ V I.,, '">mi,i TA^ Triumphs of Eugene Valmont he carried in his hand the well-filled locked leather satchel, with the straps dangling. It was now approach- ing half past five, and I saw he was eager to close up and get away. " Anything else you fancy, sir ? " he asked me. " No, or, rather, yes and no. You have a very in- teresting collection here, but it's getting so dark I can hardly see." " I close at half past five, sir." " Ah! in that case," I said, consulting my watch, " I shall be pleased to call some other time." " Thank you, sir," replied Summertrees quietly, and with that I took my leave. From the corner of an alley on the other side of the street I saw him put up the shutters with his own hands, then he emerged with overcoat on, and the moncv satchel slung across his shoulder. He locked the door, tested it with his knuckles, and walked down the street, carrying under one arm the pamphlets he had been ad- dressing. I followed him at some distance, saw him drop the pamphlets into the box at the first post office he passed, and walk rapidly toward his house in Park Lane. When I returned to my flat and called in my assistant. he said : " After putting to one side the regular advertisements of pills, soap, and what not, here is the only one com- mon to all the newspapers, morning and evening alike. The advertisements are not identical, sir, but they have two points of similarity, or perhaps I should say three. 1 06 The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road and rhey all profess to furnish a cure for absent-mindedness ; they all ask that the applicant's chief hobby shall be stated, and they all bear the same address: Dr. Wil- loughby, in Tottenham Court Road." " Thank you," said I, as he placed the scissored ad- vertisements before me. I read several of the announcements. They were all small, and perhaps that is why I had never noticed one of them in the newspapers, for certainlv they were odd enough. Some asked for lists of ;.bsent-minded men, with the hobbies of each, and for these lists, prizes of from one shilling to six were oflfered. In other clip- pings Dr. Willoughby professed to be able to cure ab- sent-mindedness. There were no fees and no treatment, but a pamphlet would be sent, which, if it did not bene- fit the receiver, could do no harm. The doctor was unable to meet patients personally, nor could he enter into correspondence with them. The address was the same as that of the old curiosity shop in Tottenham Court Road. At this juncture I pulled the pamphlet from my pocket, and saw it was entitled, "Christian Science and Absent-Mindedness," by Dr. Stamford Wil- loughby, and at the end of the article was the state- ment contained in the advertisements, that Dr. Wil- loughby would neither see patients nor hold any correspondence with them. I drew a sheet of paper toward me, wrote to Dr. Willoughby, alleging that I was a very absent-minded man, and would be glad of his pamphlet, adding that my special hobby was the collecting of first editions. 197 am i 1 D O c '"'Mia, K, *""•'' ■*«n. "fc, fnu-t ~ 1 '■ *■•■«. r •«■■■„, . '4- N, '•••""•■*„ <: Ih.. *>, '"■'^"•^Z *»i »«'!,;*.•■.• '"^-: t 'Ml,,,. *., ^■■••::: '*>! lisi!;" •*.... *., ^1 nut!" . Mh! 'mu^.^lfr" C; •*«,, '*..,. "'H«i„, ■»', r„„, "^MN4,, ^..1 !■•!- The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I then signed myself, " Alport Webster, Imperial Flat«>, London, W." I may here explain that it is often necessary for me to see people under some other name than the well- known appellation of Eugene Valmont. There are two doors to my flat, and on one of these is painted, " Eu- gene Valmont " ; on the other there is a receptacle, into which can be slipped a sliding panel bearing any nom de giicrrc I choose. The same device is arranged on the ground floor, where the names of all the occupants of the building appear on the right-hand wall. I sealed, addressed, and stamped my letter, then told my man to put out the name of Alport Webster, and if I did not happen to be in when anyone called upon that mythical person, he was to make an appointment for me. It was nearly six o'clock next afternoon when the card of Angus Macpherson was brought in to Mr. Alport Webster. I recognized the young man at once as the second who had entered the little shop, carrying his tribute to Mr. Simpson the day before. He held three volumes under his ?' n, and spoke in such a pleasant, insinuating sort of way, that I knew at once he was an adept in his profession of canvasser. " Will you be seated, Mr. Macpherson? In what can I serve you ? " He placed the three volumes, backs upward, on my table. " Are you interested at all in first editions, Mr. Webster?" 198 The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road m my ^ Mr. " 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 Alacpherson 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 ceuain you could not duplicate three such treasures in any bookshop in Britain." I ex ined 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 1 3 O ^r^«»3B«*r7^»r'v.>i2jr^j»"-K ■VM-^u ki' ,'■-.-* ""••-... '5:^ 1 '■""'*'«« t l«IH„. , •V, "'■•«-««, f ""■'■» ».^^., \, ».. , *., -x..^,"'"""' '"*.», "%, UK";.*.... '"^1,, (.'; ;;;;;;-=*.« Il«l5; '^l ""■"C: ^, **^::- *o>i r"*-^ S^ •'n,,,. ««#«■' *s '""«.'«». *,, .„,., *»,, * ""11. 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 lo my making some further inquiry, I suppose. Would you mind tell- 200 '^5^i*»:«7*« /■ vip^wi'''^./j'mty'm'^iL9K: rn^.i^,.^/ fe^ The Queer Shop in Totten ham 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 ' • 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 'arge purchase is not felt, as I make the installments small enough to suit my client." "You are employed during the day, I take it?" " Yes, I am a clerk in the City." Again we were in the blissftil 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 y. .y nie f.vc ...llings now, 14 20I 1 wngm .-^•■?isr.-''>rv-- ::£^^csf rwr?«^'t?-^iiiK!«w-H h"-. *«, '*'■ ■^- " ' «'. ftui!^ •-..„,; %, •», «iie: - '"->' r»^^ •",«:fliH"" ^1 '»■ 1« "'"*.►, '*'. ""•»««^.. ""^"•l '■k: The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I will leave the book with you, and shall have pleasure in calling this day week for the next installment." I put my hand into my pocket, and drew out tv/o half crowns, which I passed over to him. " Do I need to sign any form or undertaking to pay the rest?" The young man laughed cordially. " Oh, no, sir, there is no formality necessary. You see, sir, this is largely a labor of love with me, although I don't deny I have my eye on the future. I am getting together what I hope will be a very valuable connection with gentlemen like yourself who are fond of books, and I trust some day that I may be able to resign my place with the insurai.oe company and set up a choice little business of my own, where my knowledge of values in literature will prove useful." And then, after making a note in a little book he took from his pocket, he bade me a most graceful good-by and departed, leaving me cogitating over what it all meant. Next morning two articles were handed to ine. The first came by post and was a pamphlet on " Christian Science nnd Absent-Mindedness," exactly similar to the one I had taken away from the old curiosity shop; the second was a small key made from my wax impression that would fit the front door of the same shop — a key fashioned by an excellent anarchist friend of mine in an obscure street near Holborn. That night at ten o'clock I was inside the old curiosity shop, with a small storage battery in my pocket, 202 I "^ Q"'" ^''"P '" Touenham Court R oad I and a littl. electric glowlamp a, my buttonhole, a most I use ul mstrumen. for either burglar or detective ' in \ ^Xf ■^''"'' '"^ •"* °' "- -tablishn^en. ma safe, „h,ch, ,f „ „as sin,ilar to the one in Park Lane, I was prepared to open ,vi,h ,l,e false kovs in and trust to my anarchist frien.l for the rest But to my amazement I discovered ill il„. „, to ili» ^» ■ '■''>"-™l an the papers pertain ng to the concern m a desk which was not even locked The books, three in number, were the ordinarv dav^k' journal and lecteer referring to the shop: bookk e^ng "f he older fash.on; but in a portfolio lav half a doze^ foolscap sheets, headed, ■• Mr. Rogers's List " " M Macpherson's,'' " Mr Tvrrer= " .1, , . learned »n,i ^, ' ^^"""^ '■ ""= "ames I had alreadv rim' " ■ "■""" ''^'^ ^""'^'""l - *e «>e thtrd, sums of money; an*ng on a snelf above the desk were a number of 203 1 D •D c ; * — I ■■'■■ "T fc., |.„ •"till «:: r/i^ Triumphs of Eugene Vo.lmont fat volumes, one of which I took down, and saw tha' it contained similar lists running back several years. J noticed on Mr. Macpherson's current list the name o Lord Semptam, an eccentric old nobleman whom I knev slightly. Then turning to the list immediately bcfori the current one the name was still there; I traced i back through list after list until I found the first entry which was no less than three years previous, and then Lord Semptam was down for a piece of furniture costiiu fifty pounds, and on that account he had paid a pounc a week for more than three years, totaling a hundrcn and seventy pounds at the least, and instantly the glo rious simplicity of the scheme dawned upon me, and became so interested in the swindle that I lit the ^as fearing my little lamp would be exhausted before nv investigation ended, for it promised to be a long one. In several instances the intended victim provei shrewder than old Simpson had counted upon, and tli word " Settled " had been written on the line carrylni the name when the exact number of installments \va paid. But as these shrewd persons dropped out, other took their places, and Simpson's dependence on thei absent-mindedness seemed to be justified in nine case out of ten. His collectors were collecting long after th debt had been paid. In Lord Semptam's case, the pay ment had evidently become chronic, and the old inai 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, date( 1893, which recorded Lord Semptam's purchase of < 204 The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road carved table for fifty pounds, and on which he had been Pc^^mg a pound a week from that time to the date of which I am writing, which was November, 1896 This smgle 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- l.iierson's present clients; then, carefully placing every- thing exactly as I had found it, ! 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 fluty. He never appeared at his best during office hours because officialism stiflfened 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 \vhen 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? " 3 ai 1 205 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont ^ ( %, "IK: •• ■ •• i *'..'. .M»^,_^ " Oh, that ! " I exclaimed, with surprise. " The Sur mertrees case is already completed, of course. If I hj known you were in a hurry, I should have finished t everything yesterday, but as you and Podgers. and don't know how many more, have been at it 5;xtc( or seventeen days, if not longer, I thought I migl venture to take as many hours, as f am workir entirely alone. You said nothing about haste, yr know." "Oh, come now, Valmont, that's a bit thick. E you mean to nv you have already got evidence again the man ? " " Evidence absolute and complete." " Then who are the coiners ? " " My most estimable friend, how often have I tol you not to jump at conclusions? I informed you whe you first spoke to me about the matter that Summct trees was neither a coiner nor a confederate of coiner; I secured evidence sufficient to convict him of quite an other oflFense, which is probably unique in the annals o crime. I have penetrated the mystery of the shop, an^ discovered the reason for all those suspicious action which quite properly set you on his trail. Now I wisl you to come to my flat next Wednesday night at ; quarter to six, prepared to make an arrest." "I must know whom I am to arrest, and on whai counts." " Quite so, mon ami Hale ; I did not say you were to make an arrest, but merely warned you to be prepared If you have time now to listen to the disclosures, I am 206 i'jl The Queer Shop in Tottenham Court Road quite at your service. I promise you there are some ongmal features in the case. If, however, the present moment ts inopportune, drop in on me at your con- venience previously telephoning so that you may know whether I am there or not. and thus your valuable time will not be expended purposelessly." With this I presented to him my most courteous bow. and althoii^h his mystified expression hinted a suspicion that he thoufe-ht I was chaffing him. as he would call it official dignity dissolved somewhat, and he intimated his' des^e to hear all about it then and there. I had suc- ceeded m arousing my friend Hale's curiosity. He lis- tened to the evidence with perplexed brow, and at last ejaculated he would be blessed. " This young man." I said, in conclusion. " wiH call upon me at six on Wednesday afternoon, to receive his second five shillings. I propose that you. in your uni- form, shall be seated there with me to receive him. and I am anx.ous to study Mr. Macpherson's countenance when he realizes he has walked in to confront a police- man. If you will then allow me to cross-examine him for a ew moments, not after the manner of Scotland Yard Tree a'7™"! 'T '' '"'""'"^^^ '^^''''' ^"* '" the' ValZnr^"' ^^onderful flow of langtiage. Monsieur on hand./" °"'"''' '"'"^^ *° ^'- " ' ^^^'^ ^ on hand at a quarter to six on Wednesday " Meanwhile. ' said r-kinc^: -say nothing of this to 207 1 T/ie Triumphs of Eugene Valmont anyone. VVc must arrange a complete surprise for Mac- pherson. That is essential. Please make no move in the matter at all until Wednesday night." Spcns'-r Hale, much impressed, nodded acquiescence, and I took a polite leave of him. 208 CHAPTER XVir THE ABSKN'T-MINDKD COTERIE IHE question of lighting is an important one in a room such as mine, and electricity oflfers a good deal of scope to tiie 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 bnlhancy, whde the rest of the space remains in com- parat.vc gloom and I arranged the lamps so that the full force of the.r rays impinged against the door that Wednesday evening, while I sat on one side of the table m sem.darkness and Hale sat on the other, with a light beatmg down on him from above which gave him the odd sculptured look of a living statue of Justice, stem and triumphant. Anyone entering the room would first ^dazzled by the light, and next would see the gigantic form of Hale m the full uniform of his order When Angus Macpherson was shown into this room ^ tn.nk his first purpose was to turn and run, but the door closed behind him. and he doubtless heard, as we rii^!;^r ''' '-' ^^"^ ''-'' - '^ ^^- 209 5 1 i •« ••'law. t- '•■•'•uh*,., 7"^^ 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, 1 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. 2IO "^h iiii mL.:^^-"^: The Absent-minded Coterie "You have called on Lord Sc, .ptam thi> -vek/' I continued sternly. " Yes, sir." " And collected a pound from him ? " " Yes, sir." " ^" October, 1893, you sold Lord Semptam a carved antique table for fifty pounds ? " " Quite right, sir." " When you were here last week you rnve me Ralph Summertrees as the name of a gentleman livintr in Park Lane. You knew at the time that this man was your employer ? " Macpherson was now looking fixedly at me, and on this occasion made no reply. I went on calmly : " You also knew that Summertrees, of Park Lane was Identical with Simpson, of Tottenham Court Road ? " " Well, sir," said Macpherson. " I don't exactly see what you're driving at, but it's quite usual for a man to -arry on a business under an assumed name. There IS nothing illegal about that." " We will come to the illegality in a moment. Mr Macpherson. You and Rogers and Tvrrel and three others are confederates of this man Simpson." " We are in his employ ; yes, sir, but no more con- tederates than clerks usually are." " I think, Mr. Macpherson, l have said enough to show you that the game is what you call up You are now in the presence of Mr. Spenser Hale, from Scotland Yard, who is waiting to hear your confession." 211 1 Ml •I m^. ■m^i'^. The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont •«. »*IMIII||. V; ». ,, »■• "'•^sih..,,.. 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 nic for a very few moments. Now, Macphcrson, 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 en 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 I' ;v The Absent-minued Coterie much more diplomatic figure than my friend Spenser Hale, silLing 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 nil about it. You never heard of Dr. Willoughby, 1 --se?" " Yes, he is the author of t. -y 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. Sunimertrees. 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 1 i The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont ^ ■'••-•■I.- , . ^* • ^ ™* lis ^ . " I was just going to make the same sur estion to you, Monsieur Valmont. If you will tell me in a few words exactly what is your charge against either Mr. Summertrees or myself, I will know then what to say." " We charge you, sir, with obtaining money under false pretenses, which is a crime that has landed more than one distinguished financier in prison." Spenser Hale shook his fat forefinger at me, and said: " Tut, tut, Valmont ; we mustn't threaten, we mustn't threaten, you know " ; but I went on without heeding him. " Take, for instance, Lord Semptam. You sold him a table for fifty pounds, on the installment plan. He was to pay a pound a week, and in less than a year the debt was liquidated. But he is an absent-minded man, as all your clients are. That is why you came to me. I had answered the bogus Willoughby's advertisement. An.l so you kept on collecting and collecting for something more than three years. Now do you understand the charge? " Mr. Macpherson's head, during this accusation, was held slightly inclined to one side. At first his face was clouded by the most clever imitation of anxious con- centration of mind I had ever seen, and this was gradu- ally cleared away by the dawn of awakening perception. When I had finished, an ingratiating smile hovered about his lips. " Really, you know," he said, " that is rather a capital 214 f.^.Klna^r.mf.'^mma, mw The /Ibsent-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 nave both Summertrees and myself, if there was any- thing in your audacious theory, would be an indictment fy 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 I we can count upon, they get the first oflfer 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, I 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 3 «( *■• m* St •I :» «• i ^5r5P!?^^''*!r^^raT?' The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont \ -■ page of the encyclopedia for the current year, and o that page is noted the n°w sale and the amount of i 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 ii is in the shop ?.c Tottenham Court Road ? " " Oh, no, sir. Each volume of the encyclopedia i self-locking. These books contain the real secret of on business, and they are kept in the safe at Mr. Sum mertrees's house in Park Lane. Take Lord Semptam"; account, for instance. You will find in faint figure: under a certain date, 102. If you turn to page 102 the encyclopedia for that year, you will then see a lis of what Lord Semptam has bought, and the prices ht was charged for them. It is real'.y 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 volnmc for 1893, aufi 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 sinj,'le word spoken. A portable telephone stood on the ta!)k\ and as Macpherson finished his explanation, he readied over and drew it toward him. Then Spenser Ilalc interfered. "Excuse me," he said, "I'll do the telephoning What is the call number of Mr. Summertrees ? " " One forty Hyde Park." 216 \m .■ The Absent-minded Coterie 1 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. Sunimertrees in.^ Very well. This is Hale. I am in Valmont's flat-Imperial Flats-you know. Yes, where you went with me the other (lay. 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 tliat 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 W 217 5 1 «• «* *i i ■. Vv^*^ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont v -' forgive an insult. And then, if you will allow me 1 say so, the more I think over your absent-minded theor the more absolutely grotesque it seems, and if the ca. ever gets into the newspapers. I am sure, Mr. Hale, you experience an uncomfortable half hour with your chic at Scotland Yard." "I'll take the risk of that, thank you," said Ha stubbornly. "Am I to consider myself under arrest?" inquire the young man. " No, sir." " Then, if you will pardon me, I shall withdraw Mr. Summertrees will show you everything you wish t see in his books, and can explain his business muc more capably than I, because he knows more about it therefore, gentlemen, I bid you good night." " No you don't. Not just yet awhile," exclaimei Hale, rising to his feet simultaneously with the younj man. " Then I atn under arrest." protested Macpherson. " You're not going to leave this room until Podgcr: brings that book." " Oh, very well," and he sat down again. And now, as talking is dry work, I set out some thing to drink, a box of cigars, and a box of cigarettes Hale mixed his favorite brew, but Macpherson, shun- ning the wine of his country, contented himself with a glass of plain mineral water, and ht a cigarette. Then he awoke my high regard by saying pleasantly, as if nothing had happened: 218 The Absent-minded Coterie " While , e arc waiting, Monsieur \'aImont niav I remmd you tnat you owe me five shillings' " I laughed, took the coin fron, „,y pocket, and paid lum. whereupon he thanked me. ^ "Are you connected with Scotland Yard, Monsieur I " You have no official standing as a detective then Monsieur Valmont ? " ' ' ■' ^""^ ^^''"^tever," I replied quicklv. thus gettintr in my oar ahead of Hale. ' S^"'"8: »n rnirair^n" ' '"" '" '"'' ''""^'■>'" 1^"^"^^ this ad- mirable young man. with evident sincerity a f l''^'f\'° ''' ^ ''"'' "^'^^ ^ ^«-' ^'^-' of so clever a fellow .f he came under mv tuition The blunders of our police." he went on " .r. "mcl, less discomfort to their victim,'" ■■ France," snorted Hale in derision, " win ti.ev call ' '"!"/""•> "-- ™,i, l,e-s proven innocent .•• ' in Impl Fh"'\^"'' *^ ^^™ -«- 'o be ,l,e case that Mr t ^^'^ '"""' '™* "P J-™-- mind ™ ~sT"" ''^ '""''■ """ -"" "' "^ -"'en, )o wniTarV: T^rr ' ^^"""^ '° ""*■" *« :| »• ■• 1 M The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont c:r- * '»*l ■ III.IIW '5" •».•*■■.«».. > » .. **•*••-■ .'1!'" t::r • ^■■••.^^ ^''"'— ■-..... i:::^ C' ■<■• ^«*<""" *""""•— Hale grunted and looked at his watch. The minute passed very slowly as we sat there smoking and at la- even I began to get uneasy. Macphcrson. seeing on anxiety, said that when he came in the fog was aliinr as thick as it had been the week before, antl thai tin i might be some difficulty in getting a cah. Just as ho \va speaking the door was unlocked from the outside, an Podgers entered, bearing a thick volume in his h;m This he gave to his superior, who turned over its pagi in ar ?ment, and then looked at the back, crying : '"Encyclopedia of Sport. 1893'! What sort of joke is this, Mr. Macpherson? " There was a pained look on Mr. Macpherson's fat as he reached forward ; 1 ' took the book. He sai with a sigh : " li you had allowed me to telephone, Mr. Hale. should have made it perfectly plain to Summertrees wli; was wanted. I might have known this mistak'^ was li; ble to occur. There is an increasing demand for out-u date books of sport, and no doubt Mr. SummortrcM thought this was what I meant. There is nothing for but to send your man back to Park Lane and tell M Summertrees that what we want is the locked volui; of accounts for 1893, which we call the encyclopcili Allow me to write an order that will bring it. Oli. I show you what I have written before your man take.'- it he said, as Hale stood ready to look over his shouUkr. On my note paper he dashed ofif a request such ; he had outlined, and handed it to Hale, who read it ar gave it to Podgers. 220 ,<^t tiiake even a motion toward saving the sheet. Mac- Plierson regarded us both with that self-depreciatory Hii.Ie which had several times lighted up his face. " How dared you burn that sheet? " I demanded Because. Monsieur Valmont. it did not belong to >ou; because you do not belong to Scotland Yard; 221 .1 1 «« «« <• i( «• <« 'I ;r.»aiSft-KiAlii»:^^?W K-'. The Triumphs of Eugene ralmont I '-2 — •».Hj...... c ^- .^,7'--"" ''■■'^'-"H. ,„„ha,|„„ri„l,M I hc.ca.,c. ,,„, ,„„. nU-ial s,a„„i„, i„ ,„. , 'O^. If .t l,a. I„.„ ,„ Mr^ llalc-s ,«,,,c„si„„ ; ,, no havo ,larc,l. a. ,„„ ,„„ ;,, ,„ „.,,„, „,^ ^ ^^ ' h>y"M,an™,,r.,,,,,,a,,,l,,,rizc,l|K.rso„,„.|,o,,,lLv r I ri;;"-';;""' ■"" ''•"' ^•■^■'•<' ■■ ••" >- I.c « or,l ,„cycl„p<.,|,a.- |,o „,,„„: ,, „,„., b„„, „, records, an.l 1,., „„ |,i, ,„, „.,, ,„ ,„,^, ,'™ ' phono ,„ n,o -The cncvclopciia is „„, of prin ■ " , upon I ,v„„M b,n„ „,a, l,c ha,l suca-ci.,! W, K.'ntl<.,n,.n. „p,,i ,|,i, ,,,„ „., , , mc the (rouble of forcinr ii p.nl, under irr„., *" ""■'' I"" ""' <"""^ Z h M V" '■"'" '" "■''""" '"> ''l'"l>- f an, u m„ h „b,,j.ed ,„ .Mr. „ale for ,e,epl,o„i„g. and mad „opro.e.Moso,,a„an,a,.,sUa.. .MonsiJ uont ,.s becau..e of ,l,e lodged d.Hjr. JKnvever ,1, • f paper .h IT,' " '" "'''^ ' "P"" "' '^^ ".»- papers ,l,at „o„l,l he q„i,e satisfactor, ,o yonr chief. 222 '?.V.,W .._^*;l_-^"^s ■it'*^.ii.~-i.-- #• . «: niont ^fm .M rik'lit to i- ' tliis coiiii m I shotill c sliect. I.iir "'s prcmi.M , fii he won!.! I found \.hi Ills disc'i. ■ cut. I Ii.ivc been kcj.i 'ic scriitin. . im[)r(i|.(r inmcrtrct- ' tliis en honcrl Inn Jurn tliiH li or ul.- I r t,' wIktc- vvill >;(U' for'tiallv am \ I r\ •1 I llMT ifiir \,i! tlk- faict tliroiii;!! nic, .Mr. JO diiwii ic n(u>- hiefx I I I ] I « ■'♦!!> C:' 'w%0v: ■ c;:::r- r.pZ'---... irtHMtl se: WL -^^ 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." If 323 CHAPTER XVIII THE SAD CASE OF SOPHIA BROOKS lELEBRATED critics have written scorn of what uiey call "the long of coincidence" in fiction. Coinci( is supposed to be the device of a no who does not possess ingenuity enou construct a book without it. In France our incompj writers pay no attention to this, because they are i with a keener insight into real life than is the case the British. The superb Charles Dickens, possil well known in France as he is wherever the Enghs guage is read, and who loved French soil and the Y people, probably probed deeper into the intncac human character than any other novelist of n times, and if you read his works, you will see tl continually makes use of coincidence. The exp< that has come to me throughout my own Strang varied career convinces me that coincidence hapr real life with exceeding frequency, and this fact pecially borne in upon me when I set out to rel; conflict with the Rantremly ghost, which wrough tling changes upon the lives of two people, one iectionable. domineering man, and the other a and crushed woman. Of course, there was a thi 224 lP5».a?< i-al/. -^BR^.,7, ifii' The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks rritten with e long arm Coincidence ){ a novelist y enough to ncomparable ;y are gifted he case with , possibly a> English lan- d the French ntricacies of [ of modern 1 see that he le experience strange and :e happens in lis fact is es- to relate my wrought star- e, one an ob- her a humble .s a third pc? son, and the consequences that came to him were the most stnkmg 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 1 e arnval 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 Iiaper: "' "Before the week is out. I predict that Lord Ran- tremly himself will call to see me " R.nZ^^' "■■ "™"' ''""^'" '" '"' -«' <" Lord I must begin with the visit of Sophia lirooks, for though that comes second, yet I had paid no attention .n pamcular to the newspaper clipping unti! the lady told her story. My „an brought n,e a tv,«written sheet of paper on which were inscribed the words- Sopha Brooks, Typewriting and Translating Of- don, l"c.- • ^"''- ='' ''"""'™' S'™'- Strand, Lon- I said to my servant : •' Tell the lady as kindly as possible that I have H. typewntmg work to give out and that i„ fact I premisses •''"^"'''" ""' '- ^""'^'"^^ "^^^''•- ^ the the laiv'; TT"'' ^''^ "•■ """ "^"^"^^' -d said •e lad> wished to see me. not about typewriting but ^gardmg a case in which she hoped to interest '; I ^^as still m some hesitation about admitting her for mv itransactions had now risen to a " ' f I I 225 ?her plane than when The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont r "•- — ... r ■•••■,. Vfc.„ ■"«»».,... f I %l Bis "> - ' -i« , c^-^ ■ %> l^e^ MtMMMM^ Ml I was new to London. My expenses were nat, very heavy, and it was not possible fr- me, in j, to myself, to waste time in commissions from the which even if they resulted successfully meant money added to my banking account, and often noi at all, because the client was unable to pay As marked befo. ., I possess a heart the most tender therefore must, greatly to my grief, steel myself ag the enhstmg of my sympathy, which, alas! has quently led to my financial loss. Still, sometimes the parently poor are involved in matters of extreme portance. and England is so eccentric a country one rnay find himself at fault if he closes his door harshly. Ind,.d. ever since my servant, in the utr good faith, tlirew downstairs the persistent and tatt< beg:garman. who he learned later to his sorrow was tually his grace the Duke of Ventnor, I have alw cautioned my subordinates not to judge too hastily fi appearances. ^ "Show the lady in," I said, and there came to i hesitating, backward, abashed, a middle-aged worn dressed with distressing plainness, when one thinks the charming costumes to be seen on a Parisian bo. and placed a chair at her disposal, with the air I shoi have used if my caller had been a royal princess, claim no credit for this; it is of my nature. There y, beh^d Eugene Valmont. My visitor was a wom'a 226 mont re naturally e, in justice m the poor, meant little ten nothing . As I rc- tender, and self against '! has fre- nes the ap- Ktreme im- •untry that s door too the utmost id tattered w was ac- ve always istily from The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks li me to me, J woman, thinks of ian boule- to whom ofoundly, ' I should ncess. I 'here you woman. " ^^ada"i," I said politely, " in what may I have the pleasure of serving you ? " The poor woman seemed for the moment confused and was I feared, on the verge of tears, but atTst she' spoke, and said : . "ui « last sue " l"^V^ yo" have read in the newspapers of the tragedy at Rantremly Castle? " " The name, madam, remains in mv memorv „ ciated elusively with some hint „( ■ "^'^°'y' ^so- „„,.) "' °' seriousness. Will vou pardon me a moment? " and a vague thought that had ecn the castle mentioned either in a newspape or a d Pmg from one caused me to pick up the tet bunch Tan y allTil 7 "" "*"'• ' '" '""'-<' -* "» F^r-fortt '" T'--^-^^^^ rrance, for it is my determination yet to write a hZl on the comparative characteristics of ,h,T ^ I hold a theory that th. t , ' °' *" '"o People. comprehenX. e resf ^h '"''' "' """'^ '"" ^eM.se.ou.i„m:foSol';":^rr"'*"'-"' 4af.e;t^s:r-::;-:--;ome 227 « i.r:"WT- i»;-^wr •vHt;----""" 1 . "*>"*■*-. '■'■: *,«»*r ■■"'■''' I ■ >!• I. I. I The Tri umphs of Eugene Valmont the castle had been battered down by Cromwell, and 1 it again proved the refuge of a Stuart when the tender made it a temporary place of concealment, new Lord Rantremly, it seemed, had determinec demolish this ancient stronghold, so interesting ai tecturally and historically, and to build with its st( a modern residence. Against this act of vandalism writer strongly protested, and suggested that Engl should acquire the power which France constantly erts, in making an historical monument of an edific( interwoven with the fortunes of the country. " Well, madam," I said, " all this extract allude: is the coming demolition of Rantremly Castle. Is i the tragedy of which you speak?" "Oh, no," she exclaimed; "I mean the death the eleventh Lord Rantremly about six weeks ago. ; ten years Lord Rantremly lived practically alone in castle. Servants would not remain there because place was haunted, and well it may be, for a terri family the Rantremlys have been, and a cruel, as I si be able to tell you. Up to a month and a half ago L( Rantremly was waited on by a butler older than hims^ and, if possible, more wicked. One morning this i butler came up the stairs from the kitchen with Lc Rantremly's breakfast on a silver tray, as was his ci torn. His lordship always partook of breakfast in i own room. It is not known how the accident happen( as the old servant was going up the stairs instead coming down, but the steps are very smooth and slippci and without a carpet; at any rate, he seems to ha 228 ff-it-- The Sad Case of Sophia Drooki II, and later n the Pre- sent. Tlie irmined to ting archi- its stones idalism the it England stantly ex- I edifice so alludes to i. Is that death of ago. For one in the Jcaiise the a terrible as I shall ago Lord n himself, I this old vith Lord 5 his cus- 1st in his happened, nstead of [ slippery, to have 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 (lied, 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 ^"r-- I ^"••-i.^ 'liiii •—..../' ^'"■'^.. The Triumphs of E ugene Valmont family to which he belongs has been engaged in co merce, and, I believe, its members are very wealthy." " Well, madam, no doubt this is all extremely i terestmg and rather grewsome. In what way are y concerned in these occurrences ? " " Ten years ago I replied to an advertisement, the bemg required one who knew shorthand, who possess, a typewntmg machine and a Knowledge of French act as secretary to a nobleman. I was at that tin twenty-three years old, and for two years had been tryin to earn my hving in London through the typing of mam script. But I was making a hard struggle of it so applied for this position and got it. There are in tli hbrary of Rantremly Castle many documents relatin, to the Stuart exile in France. His lordship wished thes documents assorted and catalogued, as well as copie taken of each. Many of the letters were in the FrencI anguage, and these I was required to translate anc type. It was a somber place of residence, but the salar> was good, and I saw before me work enough to keep m'e busy for years. Besides this, the task was extremelv 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- bhng, should have desired to promote this historical re- 230 TheSad Cast of Sophia Brooks ^ sea ch, a,^, ,„deed, I soon found he felt nothing but . comemp, or „. However, he had undertaken it f, Z mstance of h,s only son, then a young man of my oln age. at Oxford University. ^ "Lord Rantremly at that time was sixty-five year, oUl I„s countenance was dark, harsh, and imperiou, and h,s anguage brutal. He indulged in frightful out-' . bursts of temper, but he paid so well for sLce to I .here was no lack of it, as there has been since the gho« I appeared some years ago. He was very tall and of com mandmg appearance, but had a deformitv in the shaw I Z r ;, . ' """' " """ •'"'^ ^"vants in plenty at the cas le, for although a tradition existed that The ,. 11..S ghost, ,t was said, never demonstrated its presenc,^ h when the living representative of the family wafa man i >v,.h a clubfoot. Tradition further amrmedMa if Z u^^:htr'-^"°"r"^''^'""«'°-^-^ the 1 ™^'"^ '"" '^'''''"' ' »"""" deform. ^; tes to a'lr °" '''^"'■=''°-'' 'he I«--"g of title ard t^ tates to a stranger. The ghost haunted the castle onlv :^:z ir' '\' "--'■- who^:: t ,v,I , , Tr ™' *" *^ fo'>"-. p'^'.a s,'3 m:Ln:z'r^' ""i- ' '°°' naW knew ,ha, his father ;oL,ldL' ""'"'• '''S'" hnlisled the sympathy I T . !" ""'""'• """ >^' [chapel of the castle ^ ^ consecrated h^^^'^L^^^'r:Zz,T.,'^r " "»' «™ - N. .he b«>er, Cm^i Lfd"!:""™' "l'"^ '"-' Pantremly himself imt ., '™,.«'™ "«>« than Lord orward. BuTt .h« a", " "^ °' """ ""' S™"? f-tered the chape, iuttlh """'■ *" ''"' "-'^ '-^Wp h -ccr., ch''a:;:tatr"4x: a"d^ 'rf "--^ fttempted to interfere th. , , "'"" R''S'nald h son ,u„ i„ te , Tee with"!, T' "°'"=™" ='™^'' «ba„d lay as one din . "'"''"■^ «='■ '"d n,y "*ly torn the vestments from tH a'ed tu'- '"" '^"' "gymn. and with these .i.H J P ' '"''^-'"wnsible '■- '-k place in a veXv 1 , ' '"' '~'- A" very few moments, and I stood there The Triumphs rf Eugene Valmout c ...s ■•im rl < apartments of his lor ship to the family pew. Thor iking ny husband feet and shoulders, Lord /.antrtM.ly an t the butler cs ried him out, locking the .'r.>r, mv\ K.m ^ ^ the clerg man and me prisoners i ! c cha,.;.!. ie reverend c gentleman took no notice ot m**. i K "> -v d to be daze and when at last I found my v^ :cc ani addressed hii he merely murmured over and over texts of Scriptu pertaining to the marriape service. " In a short time I heard the key turn again in t! lock i)f tlv. private door, and the butler entered alor He ur: osened the bands around the clergyman's knet escorted him out, and once more locked the door behii him. A third time that terrible servant can-~ bac grasped me roughly by the wrist, and without a woi dragged me with him along a narrow passage, up stair, and finally to the main hall, and so to my lord private study, which adjoined his bedroom, and the on a table I found my typewriting machine brought t from the library. " I have but the most confused recollection of wh; took place. I am not a courageous woman, and wj in mortal terror both of Lord Rantremly and his a tendant. His lordship was pacing up and down i\ room, and, when I came in, used the most unsecnil language to me; then ordered me to write at his di( 234 The S„d Case of Sop/,i„ Brook, m. he would fi„„h hi. son, as he p„. i,. 'r sat do„„ : at th* machme, and he dictatcl a letter to himself T r„,ndn,g two thousand pounds paid to .e. otherwise I marred. Th,s, plaemg pen and ink Ufore me he eom j-lled me to sign, and when I had done so p,^ IgTo ^ allowed to see my husban.l. .f onK f„ \ mZn, I thought he was going to strike me. for he sho^rhi,' .-■.m.husC,r:t::a:.T;:i'-:r- was at onee sent off to Lo„d„„ wi,„ ,„, ^^^'. ' Ihe butler himself buving mv ticket ',„,! « ahandfu, of sovereigns Into- nnpr,,e '"S moved out. ' ^'" hnn?""' f u ''°"'^" ''°PP"'^' ^""'^^^ her face in her hands, and began to weep. years?'"' '°" '°"' "°'^'"^ ^^°"^ ^^is for the past ten She shook her head. "What could I do.v' she gasped. "I had littl. Be^::; :h- "l 'Tf • '''' ^^°"'' ^^"- " le t r si "f'^ ^'T'^'y '•stained possession of a ''You have no marriage certificate, of course?" " What has become of the clerg>'man ? " 235 •.fa,. r c •■c: M:., The Triump hs of Eugene Valmont " I do not know," " And what of Lord Rantremly's son? " " It was announced that he had gone on a voyage Australia for his health in a sailing ship, whiih \ wrecked on the African coast, and everyone on bo; lost." " What is your own theory ? " " Oh, my husband was killed by the blow given h in the chapel." " Madam, that does not seem credible. A blow fn the fist seldom kills." "But he fell backward, and his head struck t sharp stone steps at the foot of the altar. I know r husband was dead when the butler and his father c« ried him out." " You think the clergyman also was murdered?" " I am sure of it. Both master and servant we capable of any crime or cruelty." " You received no letters from the young man? " " No. You see, during our short friendship we we constantly together, and there was no need of corr spondence." " Well, madam, what do you expect of me? " "I hoped you would investigate, and find perhaj where Reginald and the clergyman are buried. I reali; that I have no proof, but in that w::y my strange stor will be corroborated." I leaned back in my chair and looked at her. Trut to tell, I only partially credited her story myself, aiv yet I was positive she believed every word of it. Tei 236 ont voyage to /hich was on board jiven him (low from truck the know my ither car- red?" ant were in?" we were jf corre- perhaps I realize ige story . Truth j self, and it. Ten 5: c: *, 'it. The Sad Case of Sophia Brooks years brooding on a fancied injustice by a woman livin,. alone, and doubUess often in dire povertv hT ! .ogether the ac.ua, and .be imaginaTun^ ^wTbl had poss,bly been an aimless flirtation on the parTo U'e young man, unexpectedly discovered by the father had formed ,.se,f into a,e tragedy which she had to,d " ^^""M " not be well," I sueeesterl " m i, .■. fees before the present Wd Ran."'- " '^^ *' I have done so," she answered simply. With what result?" " His lordship said my story was preposterous Tn examining the late lord's private paoers ZT . the letter which I typed and si' ned H. ""'^ that the fact T hS ."'^,"^"^^- "« said very coldlv incredible " ^ ' ' "^"^^ P"""' » ^t^'^'^nt so right'^'"' '^ '"°"' ™''™' I *'* h- lordship is refle" ••°""''' "' "" '""""^ "' «">' I-""*, which I vou"t!ke'mv T/""' """''"• ' """'' >°" "= "-"g. I, The woman rose slowly to her feet tha, name acknowledged. My charac.er has £„ 237 I S" C^**. ■•■'I :ih *..*. ■—• "liH The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont under an impalpable shadow for ten years. On sever occasions mysterious hints have reached me that iii son manner I left the castle under a cloud. If Lord Rai tremly will destroy the letter which I was compelled write under duress, and if he will give me a writt( acknowledgment that there was nothing to be alleg< against me during my stay in the castle, he xrn enjoy his money in peace for all of me. I want noi of it." " Have you asked him to do this ? " " Yes. He refuses to give up or destroy the lette although I told him in what circumstances it had be( written. But, desiring to be fair, he said he would alio me a pound a week for life, entirely through his ow generosity." "And this you refused?" " Yes, I refused." " Madam, I regret to say that I cannot see my wa to do anything with regard to what I admit is vet unjust usage. We have absolutely nothing to go upo except your unsupported word. Lord Rantremly w£ perfectly right when he said no one would credit yot story. I could not go down to Rantremly Castle an make investigations there. I should have no right upo the premises at all, and would get into instant trouble s an interfering trespasser. I beg you to heed my advic( and accept his annuity." Sophia Brooks, with that mild obstinacy of whic I had perceived indications during her recital, slow! shook her head. 238 le letter, lad been lid allow his own 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 CHAPTER XIX A COMMISSION FROM LORD RANTREMLY "9 r -^ — ...-i •i**. :.UM !« •><>•, 'ill-mannered, |EXT morning, at almost the same hour tha Miss Brooks had arrived the day before the Earl of Rantremly's card was brough in to me. His lordship proved to be an abrupt dapper business man ; purse-proud, should call him, as there was every reason he should be for he had earned his own fortune. He was doubtles:: equally proud of his new title, which he was trying tc live up to, assuming now and then a haughty, donu neering attitude, and again relapsing into the keen, in cisive manner of the man of affairs; shrewd financia sense waging a constant struggle with the glamour o1 an ancient name. I am sure he would have shone tc better advantage either as a financier or as a nobleman but the combination was too much for him. I formed an instinctive dislike to the man, which j.-robably would not have happened had he been wearing the title for twenty years, or had I met him as a business man, with no thought of the aristocratic honor awaiting him. There seemed nothing in common between him and the former holder of the title. He had keen, ferrety eves, a sharp financial nose, a thin-lipped line of mouth, wliicli indicated little of human kindness. He was short of 240 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 year 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 c Aim The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont " I pray you to be seated, my lord." He dropped into the chair, rather than sat dowi in it. " And now," I continued, with the utmost suavity stretching forth my hand, " may I place your hat oi this shelf out of the way, where it will not incommod* you during our discourse ? " Like a man in a dream, he took his hat from hi: head, and passively handed it to me, and after placing it in safety I resumed my chair with the comfortabh feeling that his lordship and I were much nearer j 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 tc reach his dignity once more, " if you mean to ask il 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 A Commission from Lord Rantremly " I think, my lord, cases may be cited where the decisions of your courts have shown a man may not do what he likes with his own. Nevertheless, I am quite certain that if you level Rantremly Castle with the ground, and build a modern mansion in its place, the law will not hinder you." "I should hope not, sir, I should hope not," said his lordship gruffly. " Nevertheless, I am not one who wishes to ride roughshod over public opinion. " I am chairman of several companies which depend more or less on popular favor for success. I deplore unnecessary antagonism. Technically, I might assert my right to destroy this ancient stronghold to-morrow if I wished to do so, and if that right were seriously dis- puted, I should, of course, stand firm. But it is not seriously disputed. The British nation, sir, is too sen- sible a people to object to the removal of an antiquated structure that has long outlived its usefulness, and the erection of a mansion replete with all modern improve- ments would be a distinct addition to the country, sir. A few impertinent busybodies protef.t against the demo- lition of Rantremly Castle, but that is ail." " Ah, then, you do intend to destroy it? " I rejoined, and it is [ sible that a touch of regret was manifest in my tones. " Not just at present ; not until this vulgar clamor has had time to subside. Nevertheless, as a business man, I am forced to recognize that a large amount of unpro- ductive capital is locked up in that property." " And why is It locked up ? " 243 r "I r-^- ' '% The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont " Because of an absurd belief that the place haunted. I could let it to-morrow at a good figure, it were not for that rumor." " But surely sensible men do not pay any attentic to such a rumor ? " " Sensible men may not, but sensible men are oftc married to silly women, and the women object. It only the other day that I was in negotiation with Bate of Bates, Sturgeon & Bates, a very wealthy man, quii able and willing to pay the price I demanded. I le care nothing about the alleged ghost, but his family absolute! refused to have anything to do with the place, and « the arrangement fell through." " What is your theory regarding this ghost, m 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 noise heard in the castle. For years that place has been tli resort of questionable characters." " I understand the Rantremly family is a very ol one," I commented innocently, but his lordship did nc notice the innuendo. " Yes, we are an old family," he went on with grca complacency. " The castle, as perhaps you are awan is a huge, ramshackle place, honeycombed underneat with cellars. T dare say in the old days some of thcs cellars and caves were the resort of smugglers, and th receptacle of their contraband wares, doubtless with th full knowledge of my ancestors, who, I regret to admit 244 A Commission from Lord Rantremly place is | igure, if ! as a business man, were not too particular in their respect for law. I make no doubt that the castle is now the refuge of a number of dangerous characters, who, know- ing the legends of the place, frighten away tools by im- personating ghosts." " You wish me to uncover their retreat, then ? " " Precisely." " Could I get accommodation in the castle itself? " " Lord bless you, no ! Nor within two miles of it. You might secure bed and board at the porter's lodge, perhaps, or in the village, which is three miles distant." " I should prefer to live in the castle night and day, until the mystery is solved." " Ah ! you are a practical man. That is a very sen- sible resolution. But you can persuade no one in that neighborhood to bear you company. You would need to take some person down with you from London, and the chances are that person will not stay long." " Perhaps, my lord, if you used your influence, the chief of police in the village might allow a constable to bear me company. I do not mind roughing it in the least, but I should like some one to prepare my meals, and to be on hand in case of a struggle, should your sur- mise concerning the ghost prove correct." " I regret to inform you," said his lordship, " that the police in that barbarous district are as suj ". rstitious as the peasantry. I myself told the chief constable my theory, and for six weeks he has been trying to run down the miscreants, who I am sure are making a rendezvous of the castle. Would you believe it, sir, that the con- 245 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont V' r stabulary, after a few nights' experience in the cas threatened to resign in a body if they were placed duty at Rantremly? They said they heard groans s shrieks, and the measured beat of a clubfoot on oaken floors. Perfectly absurd, of course, but there 3 are ! Why, I cannot even get a charwoman or laborer clear up the evidences of the tragedy which took pi; there six weeks ago. The beds are untouched, broken china and the silver tray lie to-day at the I of the stairway, and everything remains just as it v when the inquest took place." " Very well, my lord, the case presents many di culties, and so, speaking as one business man to i other, you will understand that my compensation mi be correspondingly great." All the assumed dignity which straightened up tl man whenever I addressed him as " my lord " instani fell from him when I enunciated the word " compens tion." His eyes narrowed, and all the native shrewdne of an adept skinflint appeared in his face. I shall ( him the justice to say that he drove the very best ba gain he could with me, and I, on my part, very deft concealed from him the fact that I was so much intc ested in the aflfair that I should have gone down to Rai tremly for nothing rather than forego the privilege ( ransacking Rantremly Castle. When the new earl had taken his departure, walkin to the door with the haughty air of a nobleman, the bowing to me with the aflfability of a business man, left my fiat, took a cab, and speedily found myself clinil 246 -'aeiBBh9^.''t'ise^assmr.jMastyiM, ont the castli'. placed on roans and Dt on the there you laborer to ook place ched, the t the foot as it was lany diffi- in to an- tion must J up this instantly ompensa- rewdness shall do best har- ry deftly ch intcr- i to Ran- vilege of walking lan, then i man, I If climb- A Commission from Lord Rantremly ing the stair to the first floor of 51, Beaumont Street, Strand. As I paused at the door on which were painted the words, " S. Brooks, Stenography, Typewriting, Trandation," I heard the rapid click-click of a machine inside. Knocking at the door the writing ceased, and I was bidden to enter. The room was but meagerly fur- nished, and showed scant signs of prosperity. On a smal' side table, clean, but uncovered, the breakfast dishes, washed, but not yet put away, stood, and the kettle on the hob by the dying fire led me to infer that the typewriting woman was her own cook. I suspected that the awk- ward-looking sofa which partly occupied one side of the room concealed a bed. By the lone front window stood the typewriting machine on a small stand, and in front of it sat the woman who had visited me the morning before. She was now gazing at me, probably hoping I was a customer, for there was no recognition in her eyes. " Good morning, Lady Rantremly," was my greeting, which caused her to spring immediately to her feet, with a little exclamation of surprise. " Oh," she said at last, " you are Monsieur Valmont. Excuse me that I am so stupid. Will you take a chair? " " Thank you, madam. It is I who should ask to be excused for so unceremonious a morning call. I have come to ask you a question. Can you cook? " The lady looked at me with some surprise, mingled perhaps with so much of indignation as such a mild person could assume. She did not reply, but, glancing at the kettle, and then turning toward the breakfast 247 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont r M!i;ii dishes on the table by the wall, a slow flush of color s fused her wan cheeks. "My lady," I said at last, as the silence becai embarrassing, '" you must pardon the impulse of a f( eigner who finds himself constantly brought into cc flict with prejudices which he fails to understand. Y are perhaps offended at my question. The last pers of whom I made that inquiry was the young and bea tiful Madame la Comtesse de Valerie-Moberanne, w enthusiastically clapped her hands with delight at t compliment, and replied impulsively: Oh, Monsieur Valmont, let me compose for y< an omelet which will prove a dream,' and she did. O should not forget that Louis XVIII himself cooked ti truffes a la puree d'ortolans that caused the Due d"E cars, who partook of the royal dish, to die of an in.' .:. tion. Cooking is a noble, yes, a regal art. I am Frenchman, my lady, and, like all my countrymen, r gard the occupation of a cuisinihe as infinitely superi( to the manipulation of that machine, which is your pn fession, or the science of investigation, which is mine.' " Sir," she said, quite unmollified by my harangu speaking with a lofty pride which somehow scene r uch more natural than that so intermittently assume jy my recent visitor, " Sir, have you come to offer me situation as cook ? " " Yes, madam, at Rantremly Castle." "You are going there?" she demanded, almos breathlessly. " Yes, madam, I leave on the ten o'clock train to 248 A Commission from Lord Rantremly morrow morning. I am commissioned bv Lord Ran- tremly to investigate the supposed presence of the ghost m that moldering dweUing. I am allowed to bring with me whatever assistants I require, and am assured that "o one m the neighborhood can be retained who dare sleep m the castle. You know the place very well, hav- mg hved there, so I shall be glad of your assistance, if you will come. If there is any person whom vou 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 ,s so deaf that she will hear no ghosts, and besides, monsieur, she can cook." I laughed in acknowledgment of this last sly die at me, as the English say. ' "That will do exceuently." I replied, rising, and placing a ten-pound note before her. "I suggest niadam, that you purchase with this anything jou may need. My man has instructions to send by passenger ram a huge case of provision., which should arrive there before us. If you could make it convenient to jneet me at Euston Station about a quarter of an hour before the train leaves, we may be able to discover all Castll- *"" ^"°'' '■^^g^'-ding the mystery of Rantremly Sophia Brooks accepted the mone>- without demur, and thanked me. I could s.e that her thin hands were treinbling with excitement as she put the crackling bank note nito her purse. '' 249 CHAPTER XX THE GHOST WITH THE CLUBFOOT S^"" :;:» r:^:^ "i»i f^ :'9 "« r-T- '% ••^i*.,. i C"^' *"**«ir!r '■t!S» *«c::: '•"« err "■<» ■*■««- ■bm ■m— — ■ •^tn. f„ '1 c.> ;!i 5 *.«• •^-■■!|| lARKNESS was coming on next evening b fore we were installed in the grim buil ing, which at first sight seemed more lil a fortress than a residence. I had tel graphed from London to order a waj onette for us, and in this vehicle we drove to the polii station, where I presented the written order from Loi Rantremly for the keys of the castle. The chief co stable himself, a stolid, taciturn person, exhibited, neve theless, some interest in my mission, and he was go( enough to take the fourth seat in the wagonette, ai accompany us through the park to the castle, returnii in that conveyance to the village as nightfall approache and I could not but notice that this grave official b trayed some uneasiness to get off before ausk had cor pletely set in. Silent as he was, I ^oon learned tli he entirely disbelieved Lord Rantremly's theory that t castle harbored dangerous characters, yet s great w his inherent respect for the nobility that I could not i duce him to dispute with any decisiveness his lordshij conjecture. It was plain to be seen, however, that t chief constable believed implicitly in the clubfoot ghost. I asked him to leturn the next morning, as 250 ^%^^-. The Ghost with th^ 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 workinp^ 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 sy.npa- 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- ">al of half-penny fiction had engendered in her imagina- 'on. She lit a fire, and cooked for us a very creditable supper, bustling about the place, singing to herself in a 'igh key. 251 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont \' ..J- "Mt- 'Mm Shortly after supper Sophia Brooks, exhausted much by her emotions and memories as by her lo journey of that day, retired to rest. After being 1 to myself I smoked some cigarettes, and finished a bot of superb claret which stood at my elbow. A few hoi before I had undoubtedly fallen in the estimation of 1 stolid constable when, inttead of asking him questif regarding the tragedy, I had inquired the position of i wine cellar, and obtained possession of the key tl opened its portal. The sight of bin after bin of dii laden, cobwebbed bottles did more than anything else reconcile me to my lonely vigil. There were some n(i ble vintages represented in that dismal cavern. It was perhaps half past ten or eleven o'clock wl I began my investigations. I had taken the precaut to provide myself with half a dozen so-called elcci torches before I left London. These give illuminat for twenty or thirty hours steadily, and much longei the flash is used only now and then. The torch is a t!i tube, perhaps a foot and a half long, with a buU's- of glass at one end. By pressing a spring the elec rays project like the illumination of an engine's he light. A release of the spring causes instant darkn I have found this invention useful in that it concentr: the light on any particular spot desired, leaving all surroundings in gloom, so that the mind is not distrac even unconsciously, by the eye beholding more thai necessary at the moment. One pours a white light c any particular substance as water is poured from nozzle of a hose. 252 nt lusted as her long jeing left d a bottle tew hours ion of tlie questions ion of the key that I of dust- ng else to ome ntita- I. lock wlien precaution ;d electric lumination I longer if I is a thick buU's-eve he electric ne's head- : darkness. )ncentrate! ing all the distracted. I )re than is! light overi I from tht' The Ghost with the Clubfoot I The great house was almost painfully silent. I took I one of these torches, and went to the foot of the grand staircase where the wicked butler had met his death There, as his lordship had said, lay the silver tray, and £ near by a silver jug, a pair of spoons, a knife and fork : and scattered all around the fragments of broken plates, . cups, and saucers. With an exclamation of surprise at the stupidity of the searchers who had preceded me, - I ran up the stair two steps at a time, turned to the I right, and along the corridor until I came to the room \ occupied by the late earl. The coverings of the bed ; lay turneu down just as they were when his lordship sprang to the floor, doubtless, in spite of his deafness, having heard faintly the fatal crash at the foot of the ^ stairs. A great oaken chest stood at the head of the bed . perhaps six inches from the wall. Leaning against this ^ chest at the edge of the bed inclined a small, round table, and the cover of the table had slipped from its sloping surface until it partly concealed the chest lid I motmted on this carven box of old black oak and directed the rays of electric light into the chasm between 't and the wall. Then I laughed aloud, and was some- what startled to hear another laugh directly behind me I jumped down on the floor again, and swung round my torch like a .oarchlight on a battle ship at sea. There was no human presence in that chamber except myself Uf course, after my first moment of surprise, I realized hat the laugh was but an echo of my own. The old vails of the old house were like sounding boards. The •lace resembled an ancient fiddle, still tremulous with 253 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont ►•^^ :; 1 •- the music that had been played on it. It was easy understand how a superstitious population came to I lieve in its being haunted ; in fact, I found by experimc that if one trod quickly along the uncovered floor of t corridor, and stopped suddenly, one ieemed to he the sound of steps still going on. I now returned to the stair head, and examined t bare polished boards with most gratifying resul Amazed at having learned so much in such a short tin I took from my pocket the paper on which the dyi nobleman had attempted to write with his half-paralyz hand. The chief constable had given the document me, and I sat on the stair head, spread it out on t floor and scrutinized it. It was all but meaningless. .^ parently two words and the initial letter of a third li been attempted. Now, however grotesque a piece writing may be, you can sometimes decipher it by ho ing it at various angles, as those puzzles are solved wh remain a mystery when gazed at direct. By partia closing the eyes yon frequently catch the intent, as those pictures where a human figure is concealed amc the outlines of trees and leaves. I held the paper arm's length, and with the electric light gleaming ii[ it, examined it at all angles, with eyes wide open, a eyes half closed. At last, inclining it away from ine saw that the words were intended to mean, " The I cret." The secret, of course, was what he was try: to impart, but he had apparently got no farther tl the title of it. Deeply absorbed in my investigation was never more startled in my life than to hear in 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 tyes 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 GoJ, 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 oven been asleep, and I heard the words quite plainly. ^ ou 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 '■lutching me by the arm. 255 'V The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont l^^ ::» ::fci ;;»■ r-r- ' t ^**^,- '1 C^ ",y '^'-^1 ■("» **-:: ■ '"ut J=s: .Ha :!!==="' ^»^-»^' »• f gs^ ■■.'1 :k I ^- " Listen! listen!" she whispered. "You hear not ing?" " Nonsense ! " I cried again, almost roughly, for n patience was at an end, and I wished to go on with n inquiry undisturbed. " Hist, hist ! " she whispered ; " listen ! " holding i her finger. We both stood like statues, and suddtn I felt that curious creeping of the scalp which sho\ that even the most civilized among us have not y eliminated superstitious fear. In the tense silence heard some one slowly coming up the stair ; I heard tl halting step of a lame man. In the tension of the ni ment I had allowed the light to go out ; now recoverir myself, I pressed the spring, and waved its rays bac ward and forward down the stairway. The space w entirely empty, yet the hesitating footsteps approach( us, up and up. I could almost have sworn on whi( step they last struck. At this interesting moment S phia Brooks uttered a piercing shriek and collapsed in my arms, sending the electric torch rattling down tl steps, and leaving us in impenetrable darkness. Real I I profess myself to be a gallant man, but there are siti ations which have a tendency to cause annoyance, carried the limp creature cautiously down the stair fearing the fate of the butler, and at last got her into tl dining room, where I lit a candle, which gave a ligl less brilliant, perhaps, but more steady than my torcl I dashed some water in her face, and brought her to h( senses, then uncorking another bottle of wine, I bac: her drink a glassful, which she did. 256 The Ghost with the Clubfoot " What was it ? " she whispered. " Madam, I do not know. Very possibly the club- footed ghost of Rantremly." " Do you believe in ghosts, Monsieur Valmont ? " " Last night I did not, but at this hour I believe in only one thing, which is that it is time ever\one was asleep." She rose to her feet at this, and with a tremulous little laugh apologized for her terror, but I assured her that for the moment there were two panic-stricken per- sons at the stair head. Taking the candle, and recov- ering my electric torch, which luckily was uninjured by its roll down the incline the butler had taken, I es- corted the lady to the door of her room, and bade her good night, or, rather, as the case happened to be, good morning. The rising sun dissipated a slight veil of mist which hung over the park, and also dissolved, so far as I was concerned, the phantoms which my imagination had con- jured up at n!idnight. It was about half past ten when the chief con, table arrived. I flatter myself I put some life into that unimaginative man before I was done with liim. " What made you think that the butler was mounting the stair when he fell ? " " He was going up with my lord's breakfast," replied the chief. "Then did it not occur to you that, if such were tlie case, the silver pitcher would not have been empty, and, besides the broken dishes, there would have been »57 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont ^ :i ).'^' '» ^=^: 1 "• r->* 1 ^^: 1 **•'•-». • F«» •-'■"sl:: ■ '•'• 9 r\ '■>• II g ; C!^^: I*^: "life r^T^^ 1 ?^; ;;i c^ "\ ''^•.. the rolls, butter, toast, or what not strewn about tl floor?" The chief constable opened his eyes. " There was no one else for him to bring break fa to," he objected. " That is where you are very much mistaken. Brit me the boots the butler wore ? " " He did not wear boots, sir. He wore a pair cloth slippers." " Do you know where they are ? " " Yes ; they are in the boot closet." " Very well, bring them out, examine their sol« and sticking in one of them you will find a short sliver pointed oak." The constable, looking slightly more stupefied th, ever, brought the slippers, and I heard him ejacula " Well, I'm blowed! " as he approached me. He handi me the slippers soles upward, and there, as I have state was the fragment of oak, which I pulled out. " Now, if you take this piece of oak to the top the stair, you will see that it fits exactly a slight i terstice at the edge of one of the planks. It is as wi to keep one's eyes open, constable, when investigating case like this." " Well, I'm blowed! " he said again, as we walked i the stair together. I showed him that the .sliver taken from the slipp fitted exactly the interstice I had indicated. " Now," said I to him, " the butler was not goii up the stairs, but was coming down. When he fi 258 ■■i 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 jwint, 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 fray, as is shown by the empty dishes, which you have jii«;t 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 pl.ccd his own tray . it shot over the oaken chest at the head of the hod, 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 . -■■* ' --•:•■.'' ^ ti ,■* *''■ ' - -■i.'-'ii-'n. -."■■<- ■■li MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 36 4.0 1.4 2A M 2.0 1.8 1.6 A ^IPPLIED IM/IGE '653 East Mam Sirset Rochesler, New York 14609 USA (716) 48? - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Ta, rr- 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 eflfort 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 w-here 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 oflF 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 i 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 .. f 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 foo* steps reverberate until one would swear that some un- 261 r^:» •M 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 ir London, and that we will find a very emaciated bu' genuine Lord Rantremly within ten feet of us. I neec not tell you that if you are instrumental in his immc 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 ol 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 hi? brain. He worked like a sans-ctdotte 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 avith the Clubfoot i 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 lOok 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 wit' wi.ie bottles whose necks had been snapped oflF 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 fuil on his face he proved to be still alive, for he rubbed his eyes languidly, and groaned, rather than spoke: " Is that you at i^.c, 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 / Eugene Valmont £":::> ^ ^"^••i: aperture, and down into the dining room, where he ci out continually for something to eat. but when we pla food before him, he could scarcely touch it. He becj more 'ike a human be % when he had drunk two gla; of wine, and I saw at once he was not as old as his g hair seemed to indicate. There was a haunted look in 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 nee The man laughed harshly, " Where i-, 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 morn the butler was killed. The rescued man made no comment on this, turned and ate a little more of his food. Then he s 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 been in there only ten years? Why, I'm an old m I must be sixty at least." " No ; you're not much over thirty." "Is Sophia—" He stopped, and the haunted Ic came into his eyes r.gain. 264 ont re he cried we placfi! le becanie wo glasses IS his gray look in hi- ive. his neck. ' ; morniiij; this, Init ;n he saiil nted look The Ghost with the Clubfoot ' Xo. She is all right, and she is here " " Here ? " "Somewhere in the grounds. I sent her and the servant out for a walk, and told them not to return till luncheon time, as the constable and I had something to do. and did not wish to be interrupted." The man ran his hand through his long tangled beard. " I should like to be trimmed up a bit before I see Sophia," he said, " I can do that for you, my lord," cried the con- stable. ••My lord?" echoed the man. "Oh, yes, I under- stand. You are a policeman, are you not ? " " Yes, my lord, chief constable." " Then I shall give myself up to you. I killed the butler." " Oh, impossible, my lord ! " " No, it isn't. The beast, as I called him, was get- ting old, and one morning he forgot to close the door behmd him. I followed him stealthily out, and, at the Iiead of the stair, planted my foot in the small of his back which sent him headlong. There was an infernal crash! I Old not mean to kill the brute, but merely to escape, and just as I was about j run down the stairway, I was appalled to see my father looking like— looking like— well, I won't attempt to say what he looked like; but all my old fear of him returned. As he strode toward me, along the corridor, I was in such terror that I jumped through the secret door and slammed it shut." iS 265 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont " Where is the secret door ? " I asked. " The secret door is that fireplace. The whole f place moves inward, if you push aside the carved or ment at the left-hand corner." " Is it a dummy fireplace, then ? " " No, you may build a fire in it, and the smoke escape up the chimney. But I killed the butler, consta though not intending it, I swear." And now the constable shone forth like the rough diamond he was. " My lord, we'll say nothing about that. Legally didn't do it. You see, there's been an inquest on butler, and the jury brought in the verdict, ' Death accident, through stumbling from the top of the st You can't go behind a coroner's inquest, my lord." " Indeed," said his lordship, with the first laugl which he had indulged for many a year, " I don't v to go behind anything, constable. I've been behind accursed chimney too long to wish any further im{ onment." 266 . 'O^eiMii.ii- ..m&ijSJii£Mr^Ji'M(, ''^■'..uiiiB.. -r>.. ont vhole fire- rved orna- jmoke will constable, ; the real .egally y',u est on the ' Death by the stair.' »rd." t laugh in don't want aehind that ler imprii- s_I CHAPTER XXI THE SECRET OF A NOBLE llOL'SE 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 mvsterv all the cards should be put on the table. Those who half trust a professional man need not be disappointed when re- suits 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 oivn 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. have lived too intimately among the machinery of the aw and have seen too many of its ghastlv mistakes, to lold ,t in that blind esteem which appears to be preva- lent in the British Isles. There is a doggerel couplet which tvpifies 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 .>iJi»»j 'i-iiij; rs jifh.'uakiaf^^m-t. T. ilTIi The Triumphs of Eugene Fahnont C^::> !*■ ■>. "• c::::;:> --•N Those lines exemplify the trend of British thought this direction. If you question a verdicv of their cot you are a rogue, and that ends the matter. And wh' an Englishman uml.rtakes to circumvent the I there is no other man on earth who will go to gre lengths. An amazing people! Never understand by the sane of other countries. It was entirely my own fault that I became invo in affairs which were almost indefensible and wli illegal. My client first tried to b-'bc me into compliance ^ his wishes, which Lribe I sternly refused. Then partially broke down and, quite unconsciously as I it, made an appeal to the heart — a strange thing foi Englishman to do. My kind heart has ever been most vulnerable point. We French are sentimental France has before now staked its very existence fo ideal, while other countries fight for continents, casl commerce. You cannot pierce me with a lance of i but wave a wand o' sympathy, and I am yours. There waited upon me in my flat a man who | his name as Douglas Sanderson, which may or not have been his legitimate title. This was a que: into which I never probed, and at the moment of ^ ing am as ignorant of his true cognomen, if that not it, as on the morring he first met me. He wa elderly man of natural dignity and sobriety, slo\ speech, almost somber in dress. His costume wa? quite that of a professional man, and not quite of a gentleman. I at once reco.xnized the orde 268 ^W'tii ont thought in icir courts. And yet. It the law, to greater ;rstandal>Ie je involvi'tl md wholly liancc with Then lie >' as I take ling for a i r been ir\ imentali^ts. :nce for an ts, cash, iir ICC of gold, rs. I who gave ay or may a question int of writ- if that was He was an tv, slow in ne was not quite that ic order to The Secret of a Noble II ouse wliich he belonged, and a most difficult class it is to (leal With. He was the confidential servant or steward of some ancient and probably noble frrily, embody- ing in himself all the faidts 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- tache^!. It is frequently Mie 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. 1 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 li, more haughty, a httle 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 'ittle less pK-asant and eajy person to deal with. " Sir," he i>egan, when I had waved him to a seat, " I am a very lich man, and can afford to pay well for the commission I request you to undertake. To ask you to name your ov/n terms may seem unbusinesslike, so I may ,^ay at the outset I am not a b- iness man. The service I shall 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. (t 269 5r:;:> f* "» •'• 11 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont will probably necessitate the exi)end! are of a large su of money ; that sum is at your disposal." Here he paused ; he had sjwken slowly and imprc sively, with a touch of arrogance in his tone whit aroused to his prejudice the combativeness latent in n nati're. However, at this juncture I merely bowed n head, and replied in accents almost as supercilious as li own: " The task must cither be unworthy or unwelconi In mentioning first the compensation you are invertii the natural order of things. You should state at tl outset what you expect me to do, then, if I accept tl commission, it is time to discuss the details of expci diture." Either he had not looked for such a reply, or \v; loath to open his budget, for he remained a few momcn with his eyes bent upon the floor, and lips compressed silence. At last he went on, without change of inflectio without any diminution of that air of condescensic which had so exasperated me in the b*^ginn ig, an which was preparing a downfall for himself that won! rudely shake the cold dignity which encompassed hii like a cloak: " It is difficult for a father to confide in a comple stranger the vagaries of a beloved son, and before doin so you must pledge your word that my communicatic will be regarded as strictly confidential." " Cela ra sans dire. ' " I do not understand French," said Mr. Sander?o severely, as if the use of the phrase were an insult to hin 270 The Secret of a Xoblc House I replied nonchalantly : " It means, as a matter of Lourse, ' That g cs without saying.' Whatever you care to tell mc abcnit your son will be mentioned to no one. Tray i)rocccd, 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 • lisposal here at home, he cl.o.sc to visit Amc.ica, where lu- fell into bad company. I assure you there is no real harm in the boy, but he became implic;< 1 with others. and has sufTcred 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." or wa^ " 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 ^ " H " I assure you the lad is innocent." For the first time a quiver of human emotion came into the old man's voice. 271 c-:;:> :i The Triumph of Eugene Valmont " Then, if you can prove that, why not apply i a new trial?" " Unfortunately, the circumatances of the case of I arrest on the train itself, the number of witnesses agaii him, give me no hope that a new trial would end in different verdict, even if a new trial could be obtaim which I am informed is not possible. Every legal mes tending to his liberation has already been tried." " I see. And now you are determined to adopt il gal means? I refuse to have anything to do with 1 malpractice you propose. You objected to a phrase French, Mr. Sanderson ; perhaps one in Latin will pie; you better. It is ' Veritas prccvalcbit,' which mez * Truth will prevail.' I shall set your mind entirely rest regarding your son. Your son at this moment ( cupies a humble, if honorable, position in the great hoi from which you came, and he hopes in time worthily fill his father's shoes, as you have filled the shoes your father. You are not a rich man, but a serva Your son never was in America, and never will go the It is your master's son, the heir to great English estat who became the Wyoming Ed of the Western pris( Even from what you say, I do not in the least doi he was justly convicted, and you may go back to yc master and tell him so. You came here to conceal t shameful secret of a wealthy and noble house ; y may return knowing that secret has been revealed, a that the circumstances in which you so solemnly bou me to secrecy never existed. Sir, that is the penalty lying." 272 )nt apply for ase of his ES against end in a obtained, ^al means Lclopt ille- with tlic phrase in vill please ;h means ntirely at >ment oc- eat house orthily to shoes of I servant. go there. ;h estates, n prison, ast doubt < to your inceal the use ; you laled, and ily bound )enalty of The Secret of a Noble Ho use The old man's contempt for me had been something to be felt, so palpable was it. The armor of icy reserve had been so complete that actually I had expected to see him rise with undiminished hauteur and leave the room, disdaining further parley with one who had insulted him. Doubtless that is the way in which his master would have acted, but even in the underling I was unprepared for the instantaneous crumbling of this monument of pomp and pride. A few moments after I began to speak in terms as severe as his own, his trembling hands grasped the arms of the chair in which he sat, and his ever-widening eyes, which came to regard me with some- thing like superstitious dread as I went on, showed me I hd\ launched my random arrow straight at the bull's- eye of fact. His face grew mottled and green rather than pale. When at last I accused him of lying, he arose slowly, shaking like a man with a palsy, but, unable to support himself erect, sank helplessly back into his chair again. His head fell forward to the table before him, and he sobbed aloud. " God help me ! " he cried, " it is not my own secret I am trying to guard." I sprang to the door, and turned the key in the lock so that by no chance might we be interrupted; then, going to the sideboard, I poured him out a liqueur glass full of the finest Cognac ever imported from south of the Loire, and tapping him on the shoulder said brusquely : ' Here, drink this. The case is no worse than it was half an hour ago. I shall not betray the secret." T!2"* The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont He tossed off the brandy, and with some effort gained his self-control. *' I have done my errand badly," he wailed, don't know what I have said that has led you to so curate a statement of the real situation, but I have b a blundering fool. God forgive me, when so much pended on my making no mistake." " Don't let that trouble you," I replied; " nothing ; said gave me the slightest clew." " You called me a liar," he continued, " and tha a hard word from one man to another; but I would lie for myself, and when I do it for one I revere ; respect, my only regret is that I have done it with avail." " My dear sir," I assured him, " the fault is not v yourself at all. You were simply attempting the imi sible. Stripped and bare, your proposal amounts to tl I am to betake myself to the United States, and tl commit a crime, or a series of crimes, in bribing sw officials to turn traitor to their duty and permit a c vict to escape." " You put it very harshly, sir. You must admit tl especially in new countries, there is lawlessness wil the law as well as outside of it. The real criminals the robbery of the railway train escaped; my yoi master, poor fellow, was caught. His father, one the proudest men in England, has grown prematui old under the burden of this terrible dishonor. H< broken-hearted and a dying man, yet he presents an passive front to the world, with all the ancient cour 274 ont effort re- liled. " I i to so ac have bei-n much de- jthing you nd that is would not evere and it without s not with the impos- its to this : and there ling sworn nit a con- idmit that, ess within •iminals in my young er, one of rematurely jr. He is nts an im- it courage The Secret of a Noble Ho use 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 heedlessness 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 vounir 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 -:^SmBt^^ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont you. His latest letter was to the effect that within months or so there is to be an election for gover He proposes that a large sum of money shall be use influence this election so that a man pledged to pai him may sit in the governor's chair." " I see. And this sum of money is to be paii the third person you referred to ? " " Yes." " May I take it that this third person is the on whom various sums have been paid during the last years in order to bribe the governor to pardon young man? " Sanderson hesitated a moment before answering fact, he appeared so torn between inclination and c anxious to give me whatever information I deemed essary, yet hemmed in by the instructions with w his master had limited him, that at last I waved hand and said: " You need not reply, Mr. Sanderson. That t party is the crux of the situation. I strongly sus him of blackmail. If you would but name him, allow me to lure him to these rooms, I possess a 1 private prison of my own into which I could thrust 1 and I venture to say that before he had passed a v in darkness, on bread and water, we should have truth about this business." Look you now the illogical nature of an Englishn Poor old Sanderson, who had come to me with a ] posal to break the law of America, seemed hor stricken when I airily suggested the immuring of a i 276 vs^£^a^mi':"^^^^M: lont within six ■ governor. be used to to pardon be paid to the one to he last five pardon the iwering; in 1 and duty, eemed nec- ivith which waved my That third jly suspect ! him, and less a little thrust him, sed a week i have the nglishman ! irith a pro- ed horror- j of a man 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 Xoah 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. 'm^ C^::> .nt» The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont master here and at liberty. This Number Three \ continue to maintain the power over him which he s to have held over his father for the last five years " I think we can prevent that, sir, if my plan is ried out." " The scheme for bribing the American officii yours, then ? " " Yes, sir, and I may say I am taking a great upon myself in coming to you. I am, in fact, disob( the implied commands of my master; but I have him pay monev, and very large sums of money, to Number Three for the last five years, and nothing come of it. My master is an unsuspicious man, has seen little of the real world, and thinks ever as !ionest as himself." " Well, that may be, Mr. Sanderson, but permi •to suggest that the one who proposes a scheme of bery and, to put it mildly, an evasion of the law, si some knowledge of the lower levels of this world, is not quite in a position to plume himself on his honesty." " I am coming to tliat, Mr. Valmont. My m: knows nothing whatever of my plan. He has giver the huge sum of money demanded by Number Tl and he supposes that amount has been already over. As a matter of fact, it has not been paid c and will not be until my suggestion has been car out, and failed. In fact, I am about to use this mo all of it if necessary, if you will undertake the comi sion. I have paid Number Three his usual mon 27S »^«--V>4ff-ii*r'2'.'a2K.^^;%';^»-lfl^ mont rhree woul ! ich he seems e years." plan is car- I officials is I great deal , disobeying [ have seen ney, to tlii> nothing lia;^ man, wlio cs everyone permit me erne of bri- law, shows world, and Dn his own My master s given me iber Three, ready paid paid over, ;en carried :his money, le commis- si monthly The Secret of a Noble House allowance, and will continue to do so. I have told him my master has his proposal under consideration; that there are still six months to come and go upon, and that my master is not one who decides in a hurrv." " Xumbt Three says there is an election in six months for governor. What is the name of the State ? " Sanderson informed me. I walked to my bookcase, and took down a current American year book, consulted it, and returned to the table. " There is no election in that State, Mr. Sanderson, for eighteen months. Number Three is simply a black- mailer, as I have suspected." " Quite so, sir," replied Sanderson, taking a news- paper from his pocket. " I read in Ijis paper an account of a man immured in a Spanish dungeon. His friends arranged it with the officials in this way : The prisoner was certified to have died, and liis body was turned over to his relatives. Now, if that could be done in America, it would serve two purposes. It would be the easiest way to get my young master out of the jail. It would remain a matter of record that he had died, therefore there could be no sear !- for him, as would be the case if he simply escaped. If you were so good as to under- take this task you might perhaps see my young master in his cell, and ask him to write to this Number Three, with whom he is in constant communication, telling him' lie was very ill. Then you could arrange with the prison doctor that this person was informed of my youn? mas- t t's death." ^ " Very well, we can try that, but a blackmailer is not 279 ism^^jt^-^m-i^'im ::•'> -1 c:::;> err - •:■ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont so easily thrown off the scent. Once he has tasted he is a human man-eating tiger. But still, there ways my private dungeon in the background, a your plan for silencing him fails, I guarantee th£ more drastic and equally illegal method will success." 280 mont tasted bloo'i there is al- und, and if itee that my will be a 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 wliich I have set down in the precedinnly on the :e of a man Nevertheless, not but fear this young :edingly dis- ange which stume made. riminal than lonor bound ,n regarding 1 to possess mtton under in the Ini- to be shad- that the ex- imself or hi? tempt to ob- Iked up and [ suppose?" liberating t/w Wrong Man " He put up the money, did he ? " " Yes." There was a pause, during which we took • vq or throe turns in silence. "Of course, there's no secret alwut it." he said at last. " I expected help from the other side, but Colonel Jmi has iK^en so mighty long about it, I was afraid he'd for}.;ottcr. me." ■' Who is Colonel Jim ? " " Colonel Jim Baxter. Wasn't it him gave you the money ? " " I never heard of the m^n before." " Then who put up the coin ? " " Douglas Sanderson." I replied, looking at 1 im side- uje as I mentioned the name. It had apparently no eflfcct upon him. He wrinkled his brow for a moment then said : ' •' Well, if you never heard of Baxter, I never heard of Sanderson." This led me to suspect that Douglas Sanderson did not g,ve me his own name, and doubtless the address '.v.th which he had furnished me was merely temporary I did not cable to him from America regarding the suc- cess of the expedition, because I could not be certain 't was a success until I was safely on English ground and not even then, to tell the truth. Anyhow, I wished to leave no trail behind me, but the moment the Aroutic reached Liverpool, I telegraphed Sanderson to meet us tiiat evening at my flat. He was waiting for me when Wyoming Ed and I 283 The Triumphs "k .is Si.^ I The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont " Well, sir, I'm perfectly willing to tell you the as fur as it concerns myself, but I don't want to r a friend." "As I have said, he isn't your friend. He tok to take the name of Wyoming Ed, so that he i blackmail the father of Wyoming Ed. He has do for the last five years, living in luxury here in Lo and not moving a finger to help you. In fact, no would appal him more than to learn that you are m this country. By this time he h?-. probably receive news from the prison doctor that you are dead, ai thinks himself safe forever." " If you can prove that to me — " said Jack. " I can and will," I interrupted ; then, turnii Sanderson, I demanded : " When are you to meet this man next ? " " To-night, at nine o'clock," he answered, monthly payment is due, and he is clamoring fo large sum I told you of." " Where do you meet him? In London? " " Yes." " At your master's town house ? " " Yes." " Will you take s there, and place us where w see him and he can't see us ? " " Yes. I trust to your honor, Mr. Valmont closed carriage will call for me at eight, and yoi accompany me. Still, after all, Mr. \'almont, we ha assurance that he is the same person this young refers to." 288 ■:y'^M'^.r > •'■ .'k-V THM' Wm:. ^nf^,^sm^ mont ou the truth nt to rat on He told yoti it he might has done so in London, act, nothing I are now in received tlie lead, and so ick. turning to ;red. " His •ing for the here we can 'almont. A ind you can , we have no young man Liberating the JVrong Man : \ ^"^ "'■t^'^" he is. He does not go under the name of Colonel Jim Baxter, I suppose' " " No." The convict had been looking from one to the other of us dunng this colloquy. Suddenly he drew his chair up closer to the table. "Look here," he said; "you fellows are square I can see that, and aff^r all's said an : .^one. youVe the man that got me out of clink. Now, I half suspicion you re right about Cc ,nel Jim, but anyhow, I'll tell you exactly what happened. Colonel Jim was a Britisher and I sup se that's why he and Wyoming Ed chummed' ogelher . good deal. We called Jim Baxter colonel but he never said he was a colonel or anything else I was told he belonged to the British arm'v, and that something happened in India so that he had to light out He never talked about himself, but he was a mighty taking fellow when he laid out to please anybody. We called h.m colonel because he was so straight in t 'e back, and walked as if he were on parade. When th>-^ young English tenderfoot came out, he and the colonel got to be as thick as thieves, and the colonel u ,n a good deal of money from him at cards, but that didn't make any difference in their friendship. The colonel most always won when he played cards, and perhaps that s what Parted the talk about why he left the British army He was the luckiest beggar I ever knew in that Lid fi m"''TI ^^' '" "^'^ '" ^^^ ^"^h to the new go d fields which didn't pan out worth a cent, and one after another of the fellows quit and went somewhere 289 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont else. But Wyoming Ed. he held on, even after C Jim wanted to quit. As long as there were plenty ( lows there, Colonel Jim never lacked money, altl he didn't dig it out of the ground, but when the fx tion thinned down to only a few of us, then we all i hard times. Now, I knew Colonel Jim was going t( up a train. He asked me if I would join him, and I would if there wasn't too many in the gang. W into that business afore, and I knew there w greater danger than to have a whole mob of fe Three men can hold up a train better than three ( Everybody's scared except the express messengei it's generally easy to settle him, for he stands whe light is, and we shoot from the dark. Well, I th at first W'yoming Ed was on to the scheme, be when we were waiting in the cut to signal the tra talked about us going on with her to San Frat but I thought he was only joking. I guess that C Jim imagined that when it came to the pine wouldn't back out and leave us in the lurch; he Ed was as brave as a lion. In the cut, where the would be on the up grade, the colonel got his 1; ready, lit it, and wrapped a thin red silk handke round it. The express was timed to pass up there midnight, but it was near one o'clock when her light came in sight. We knew all the passengers be in bed in the sleepers, and asleep in the smokir and the day coach. We didn't intend to meddle them. The colonel had brought a stick or two of mite from the mines, and was going to blow ope 290 WM mont ifter Colonel plenty of fel- ey, although 1 the popula- we all struck joing to hold n, and I said ig. I'd been lere was no ) of fellows. three dozen. ssenger, and ds where the 11, I thought me, because, the train, he n Francisco, that Colonel e pinch Ed ch ; he knew ere the train t his lantern handkerchief 3 there about m her head- ;ngers would smoking car meddle with two of dyna- ow open the Liberating the JFrong Man %m safe in the express car, and climb out with whatever was inside. " The train stopped to the signal all right, and the colonel fired a couple of shots just to let the engineer know we meant business. The engineer and fireman at once threw up their hands, then the colonel turns to Ed, who was standing there like a man poleaxed, and says to him mighty sharp, just like if he was speaking to a regiment of soldiers : '"You keep these two men covered. Come on. Jack! • h- says to me, and then we steps up to the door of the express car, which the fellow inside had got locked and bolted. The colonel fires his revolver in through the lock, then flung his shoulder ag 'in the door, and It went in with a crash, which was followed instantly by another crash, for the little expressman was game right through. He had put out the lights and was blaz- mg away at the open door. The colonel sprang for cover inside the car, and wasn't touched, but one of the shots took me just above the knee, and broke my leg so I went down in a heap. The minute the colonel counted seven shots he was on to that express messenger like a tiger, and had him tied up in a hard knot before you could shake a stick. Then quick as a wink he struck a match and lit a lamp. Plucky as the express mes- senger was, he looked scared to death, and now, when Colonel Jim held a pistol to his head, he gave up the keys and told him how to open the safe. I had fallen back against the corner of the car, in^^ide, and was groaning with pain. Colonel Jim was scooping out the 2'- r-:::! •1 .| ^-»1M ••' The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont money from the shelves of the safe and stuffing i a sack. " • Are you hurt, Jack ? ' he cried. " ' Yes, my leg's broke.' " ' Don't let that trouble you ; we'll get you cic right. Do you tlunk you can ride your horse? ' " ' I don't believe it,' said I ; ' I guess I'm dont and I thought I was. " Colonel Jim never looked round, but he through that safe in a way that'd make your hair throwing aside the bulky packages after tearing open, taking only cash, which he thrust into a b had with him, till he was loaded like a millionaire, suddenly he swore, for the train began to move. "'What is that fool Ed doing?' he shouted, to his feet. " At that minute Ed came in, pistol in each and his face ablaze. " ' Here, you cursed thief! ' he cried, * I didn't with you to rob a train ! ' " ' Get outside, you fool ! ' roared Colonel Jim outside and stop this train. Jack has got his leg 1 Don't come another step toward me or I'll kill you! " But Ed, he walked right on, Colonel Jim ba then there was a shot that rang like cannon fire closed car, and Ed fell forward on his face. C Jim turned him over, and I saw he had been hit s in the middle of the forehead. The train was now at good speed, ""d we were already miles away where our horses were tied. I never heard a man 292 '^''±: '*''■.*":- :iit;-'>A6 ^^"-K '^.'•yji- ••■■f ',-' ^it-iiy^;' moni Liberating the JVrong Man -iffing it into you clear ail se?" m done fur,' ut lie went ur hair curl. earing them ito a bag he naire. Then move, outed, risuig I each hand, didn't come lel Jim, 'Kct lis leg bfdkc. ill you ! ' Jim backing, in fire in the ice. Colonel ;n hit square IS now goin.; i away from a man swear like Colonel Jim. He went through the pockets of Ed, and took a bundle of papers that was inside his coat, and this he stuffed away in his own clothes. Then he turned to me, and his voice was like a lamb: Jack, old man,' he said, ' I can't help you. They're going to nab you, but not for murder. The cxi)ressman there will be your witness. It isn't murder anyhow on my part, but self-defense. You saw he was coming at me when I warned him to keep away.' "All this he said in a loud voice, for the express- man to hear, then he bent over to me and whispered : "Til get the best lawyer I can for you, but I'm afraid they're bound to convict you, and if they do, I will spend every penny of this money to get vou free.' You call yourself Wyoming Ed at the trial. ' I've taken all this man's papers so that he can't be identified. And don't you worry if you're sentenced, for remember I'll be working night and day for you, and if money can get you out, you'll be got out, because these papers will help me to get the cash required. Ed's folks are rich in England, so they'll fork over to get you out if you pre- tend to be him.' With that he bade me good-bv and jumped oflF the train. There, gentlemen, that's the whole story just as it happened, and that's why I thought it was Colonel Jim had sent you to get me fr^ ■." There was not the slightest doubt in my mind that the convict had told the exact truth, and that i ght, at nme o'clock, he identified Major Renn as the former Colonel Jim Baxter. Sanderson placed us in a gallery where we could see, but could not hear. The old man 293 :"T"cSi<'Sili»*!t.-.. The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont seemed determined that we should not know wher were, and took every precaution to keep us in the I suppose he put us out of earshot, so that if the r mentioned the name of the nobleman we should n any the wiser. We remained in the gallery for some after the major had left before Sanderson came 1 again, carrying with him a packet. " The carriage is waiting at the door," he said, ' with your permission, Mr. Valmont, I will accom you to your flat." I smiled at the old man's extreme caution, bi continued very gralvely: " It is not that, Mr. Valmont. I wish to cc with you, and if you will accept it, I have another mission to offer." " Well," said I, " I hope it is not so unsavory a last." But to this the old man made no response. There was silence in the carriage as we drove to my flat. Sanderson had taken the precaution of ing down the blinds of the carriage, which he nee( have troubled to do, for, as I have said, it would been the simplest matter in the world for me to discovered who his employer was, if I had desin know. As a matter of fact, I do not know to thi< whom he represented. Once more in my room, with the electric light ti on, I was shocked and astonished to see the exprc on Sanderson's face. It was the face of a man would grimly commit murder and hang for it. If the thirst for vengeance was portrayed on a hi 294 I to consult nother com- '"His dead comrades ask the i.-aitor to join them.'" • '^wiw»y;»ar^'^.:.HBS^ III .. / ' 1 T! , .; : ■'•1 .i.'^'»t -r. -"-^ Liberating the JFrong n countenance, it was on his that night. He spoke very quietly, laying down the packet before him c. the table. " 1 think you will agree with me." he said. " that no punishment on earth is too severe for that creature call- ing himself Major Renn." "I'm willing to shoot him dead in the streets of London to-morrow," said the convict, "if vou irive the word." ' Sanderson went on implacably : " He not only mur- dered the so.:, but for five years has l.pt the father in an agony of sorrow and apprehension, bleeding him of money all the time, which was the least of his crimes To-morrow I shall tell my master that his son has been dead these five years, and heavy as that blow must prove, it will be mitigated by the fact that his son died an honest and honorable man. I thank yea for oflFering to kill this vile criminal. I intend that he shall die, but not so quickly or so mercifully," Here he untied the packet, and took from it a photo- graph, which he handed to the convict. " Do you recognize that ? " "Oh, yes; that's Wyoming Ed as he appeared at the mme; as, indeed, he appeared when he was shot." The photograph Sanderson then handed to me. ^ " An article that I read about you in the paper, Mr. Valmont, said you could impersonate anybody. Can you impersonate this young man ? " " There's no diflficulty in that," I replied. "Then will you do this? I wish you two to dress in tiiat fashion. I shall give you particulars of the haunts 295 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont '^"* ^ ^«i>^^--' of Major Rcnn. I want you to meet him togethci sepirately, as often as you can, until you drive him or to suicide. He believes you to be deati," said derson, addressing Jack. " I am certain he ha news, by his manner to-night. He is extremely an to f t the lump sum of money which I have been ing back from him. You may address him, for Iv recognize your voice as well as your person, but I Mr. Valmont had better not speak, as then he know it was not the voice of my poor young mast suggest that you meet him first together, always at The rest I leave in your hands, Monsieur X'almont With that the old man rose and left us. Perhaps I should stop this narration here, for 1 often wondered if practically I am guihy of slaughter. We did not meet Major Renn together, but arr that he should encounter Jack under one lamp-po? me under the next. It was just after midnight, ai streets were practically deserted. The theater c had gone, and the traffic was represented by tli 'buses, and a belated cab now and then. Major came down the steps of his club, and under th lamp-post, with the light shining full upon him the convict stepped forth. " Colonel Jim," he said, " Ed and I are waiti you. There were three in that robbery, and or a traitor. His dead comrades ask the traitor t them." The major staggered back against the lanr 296 tionl ogethcr an I vc him IF; 1 ," said San he has tlic ncly an\; ; c been hM- , for ho wiii . but I tliiiil. :n he nii.i;1it g mastiT. 1 ■ays at tii-lr. almont." e, for I have Ity of ni.ui- but arran;je(l ,mp-post, an 1 ight, and tl:. cater crowl- I by the la^t Major Rcnn ider the first Dn him. jack Liberating the Wrong Man -Irtw his hand across his brow, and muttered. Jack t"!d me afterwards: • I must stop drinking! I must stop drinking! " Then he pulled himself together, and walked rapi.lly toward the next lamp-post. I stood out square Ml front of him. but made no .sound. Ho looked at me v.ith distended eyes, while Jack shouted out in his boisterous voice, that had no doubt often echoed over the plain : "tome on, Wyoming Ed, and never mind him. lie must follow." Then he gave a war whoop. The major did not turn round, but continued to stare at me, breathing stertorously, like a person with apoplexy. I slowly I'Mshod back my hat, and on my brow he saw the red mark of a bullet hole. He threw up his hands and fell witli r> crash to the pavement. "Heart failure" was the verdict of the coroner's jury. e waiting hr and one \va^ -aitor to join le lamp-po>t 20 297 •jm'd. •V^i^^^^-%!^# CHAPTER XXIII ■■**» ' ■ ^ THE FASCINATING LADY ALICIA |ANY Englishmen, if you speak to t me, indulge themselves in a det that I hope they will not mind n ing is rarely graced by the delic innuendo with which some of n countrymen attempt to diminish whatever merit sess. Mr. Spenser Hale, of Scotland Yard, whc of imagination I have so often endeavored to alas ! without perceptible success, was good enc say, after I had begun these reminiscences, w read with affected scorn, that I was wise in down my successes, because the life of Met himself would not be long enough to chroni failures, and the man to whom this was said that it was only my artfulness, a word of whic people are very fond; that I intended to use t cesses as bait, issue a small pamphlet filled wit and then record my failures in a thousand v after the plan of a Chinese encyclopedia, sellii: to the public on the installment plan. Ah, well ; it is not for me to pass comment observations. Every profession is marred by ; jealousies, and why should the coterie of dete( exempt? I hope I may never follow an exai 298 .}:^-»<.'i'f The Fascinating Lady Alicia ak to them of a detraction Tiind my say- le delicacy df e of my owr. r merit 1 p"^- ■d, whose lack red to amen;, )od enouf2;h i ces, which h- ise in settir: »f Methusela': chronicle n; ,s said replii )f which tlie-c 3 use my ?r.: led with the:: sand voluiiH- i, selling the- nment on sue ed by its Xwi- ^ 1 )f detection in example - deleterious, and thus bo tempicd to .'^^Z^TZ^ temp, for the st.tpidi.y with „, h, ^s h"; b..ed. I have had my failures, of . Mr.c Di, I ever preten to be otherwise than human? Cut what has r, ''.,""" °' ""^ ''''"^■'' '"->• "ave arisen through the conservatism of the English. When there ■ a mystery to be solved, the average Englisl man nost mvanably places it in the hand^of the're^, Th ,. .■" ' ^°'"' P*^°P'' are utterly baffled- hen thetr b,g boots have crushed o„. all eviden e.' a the grounds may have had to offer to a dis nilg ".'""'■ "'''" ""="■ clumsy hands have obliterated Z --::nd"f%"f:riTr™'''''™-'-''" What could you expect ; he is a Frenchman." Lady Ahca s emeralds. For two months the regular mounded the alarm to every thief in Europe All thi .-vubroKe . shops of Great Britain werT^n^ . d ■ a robber of so valuable a collection would be ;'-»h enough ,0 take it to a pawnbroker. Of olse : ;,;?''7 ^"f "-' "'cy though, the thief won d d s.' tw ::", ""' "" '"= ^™^ -"--^'X. As h^^.0 ca, .a," ° .?"''*• ""'^''^^'"S as it does an 'rinsiculth , ;' " ""'^"^ '" "«- °f "^ in- "I it 'hou° o """■' "'"'"■^' "^=" '"at the holder 'hus make more money by quietly restoring i, 299 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont fv than by its dismemberment and sale piecemeal? such a fuss was kicked up, such a furore created it is no wonder the receiver of the goods lay lov said nothing. In vain were all ports giving accc the Continent watched; in vain were the poli France, Belgium, and Holland warned to look oi this treasure. Two valuable months were lost then the Marquis of Blair sent for me! I ma; that the case was hopeless from the moment I it up. It may be asked why the Marquis of Blair al the regular police to blunder along for two pn months, but anyone who is acqu?inted with nobleman will not wonder that he clung so lonj forlorn hope. Very few members of the Hoi Peers are richer than Lord Blair, and still fewer penurious. He maintained that, ns he paid his he was entitled to protection from theft; that i the duty of the Government to restore the gem if this proved impossible, to make compensatii them. This theory is not accepted in the E courts, and while Scotland Yard did all it could ( those two months, what but failure was to be ex from its limited mental equipment? When I arrived at the Manor of Blair, as hi ship's very ugly and somewhat modern mansion is termed, I was instantly admitted to his presei had been summoned from London by a letter lordship's own hand, on which the postage w paid. It was late in the afternoon when I arrive 300 .^^TA mont meal? But created, tliat lay low and ig access to le police of look out fi)r re lost, and I maintain merit I took Hair allowed wo precious 1 with that so long to a le House of [ fewer more lid his taxes ; that it was le gems, and )ensation for the English could during ) be expected •, as his lord- lansion house i presence. I letter in his tage was not [ arrived, and The Fascinating Lady Alicia our firs conference was what might be termed futile was taken up entirely with haggling about term ' the marques endeavoring to beat down the price T; my seruces to a sum so insignificant that it wouM barely have paid my expenses from London to Blair ^nd bac Such bargaining is intensely distastefuUo m . W hen the marquis found all his offers declined -til a pohteness which left no opening for an4 o„ - part, he endeavored to induce me fo take uTth^ -^e on a commission contingent upon my recovery o gems, and when I had declined this for the tvven -th tnne darkness had come on, and the gong rang - dmner. I dined alone in a ..//. a ma4.-,\vhich appeared to be set apart for those calling at the man -on on busmess, and the nteagerness of the fare to ^ether with the indififerent nature of te Lit" strengthened my determination to return to London as early as possible next morning •nanVaid ''" 7"' "'' '""'^' ' '"fi^^ ---g tnan said gravely to me : "The Lady Alicia asks if you will be good enou^rh to gu-e her a few moments in the drawing-room, sin" the vl ;TV """ '" ''" ^---S-oom, and found t >e >oimg lady seated at the piano, on which she was ^^trunnmng idly and absent-mindedh-. but with f tot^^h -ertheless, that indicated advanced excel.enc the' jn from the dmmg table, but was somewhat primly and ommonly ,ttired, looking more like a cottager's daughter than a member of the cottagers 301 great county family, mt-: The Triumphs of Eugene Valmon ri"i ;:! Her head was small, and crowned with a mas black hair. My first impression on entering th rather dimly lighted room was unfavorabl- b vanished instantly under the charm of a mai graceful and vivacious that in a moment I see be standing in a brilliant Parisian salon rather the somoer drawing-room of an English ( house. Every poise of her dainty head ; every i of those small, perfect hands; every modulate of the voice, wheuher sparkling with laughter or ing in confidential speech, reminded me of the ^ dames of my own land. It was strange to fi perfect human flower amid the gloomy uglir a huge square house built in the time of the Gc but I remembered now that the Blairs are the E equivalent of the de Bellairs of France, from family sprang the fascinating Marquise de B who adorned the court of Louis XIV. Here, cing toward me, was the very reincarnation of the marquise, who gave luster to this dull world three hundred years ago. Ah, after all, what a English but a conquered race! I often forge and I tiust I never remind them of it, but it e one to forgive them much. A vivid twentieth-c( marquise was Lady Alicia, in all except attire. a dream some of our Parisian dress artists could made of her, and here she was immured in thi English house in the high-necked costume of a er's wife. "Welcome, Monsieur Valmont," she eric 302 WbiHi^AW-, almont a mass of jtt •ing the large, abl- but that a manner so t I seemed to rather than in jlish country every gesture adulated tone Iter or carcss- 'f the grand cs z to find Jiis r uglines;- of the Georges; £ the English from which de Bellairs. Here, advan- . of the lovely world nearly what are the forget this, ut it enables tieth-century ttire. What s could have in this dull ; of a labor- le cried in The Fascinating Lady Alicia I-rcrich of almost faultless intonation. •■ I an, so rf,H you have arrived," and she ffreeted „,» ■, ? ^ .>W friend of the family. There 1 „o,h 7"' '" -nsion in her manner; no d sp v of h'"^ ""'" Mity, while a. the sami thneteachint °"'" ""■ and the difference in our stains of fe 7 "" '"'I tl.e rudeness of the nobility, bu I de . .1 "" "'f «nsio„. No; Lady Alicia was a tu de Bella " nl-: "" '°"'-'- ^-^'"^ over her^^letdeftaS -Madame la Marquise, it is a priviletre to extend ,„ you my most respectful salutations " '" "Monsieur, you mistake my title AHh^ u ™clc is a marquis, I am but Lady AUda."""""^" '"'' iour pardon, my ladv For th^ ^ back in that scintilfating court ^^hiT ' ' ™' Louis le Grand." "'' ^"""'""'^d «ieu77I ,f ""^""^'^ ^'^ '""•"""^ y°""elf. mo„. to-morrow, vou will tu^„ j ^ ^° y°" von have pleased f ""^-^^and how charmingly ious strain, monsturTher""'' "°' ^^^' '" ^''^ ^^'- - nsidered and ! ^' '''■'°"' ^"^'"^^^ *° be -t-^-'-h^ '^n the tower of Bluebeard." "" ^""' I fear my expression as I bowed to her must have 303 Tke Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I betrayed my gratification at hearing these word? confidentially uttered by lips so sweet, while the gh of her lovely eyes wrs even more eloquent than words. Instantly I felt ashamed of my chaffering . terms with her uncle ; instantly I forgot my resohi to depart on the morrow ; instantly I resolved to t what assistance I could to this dainty lady. Alas heart of Valmont is to-day as unprotected againsi artillery of inspiring eyes as ever it was in his exti youth. "This house," she continued vivaciously, been practically in a state of siege for two mo I could take none of my usual walks in the garden the lawns, or through the park without some ch policeman in uniform crashing his way througl bushes, or some detective in plain clothes acco me and questioning me under the pretense that h( a stranger who had lost his way. The lack ( subtlety in our police is something deplorable, sure the real criminal might have passed through hands a dozen times unmolested, while our poor cent servants, and the strangers within our gates, made to feel that the stern eye of the law was them night and day." The face of the young lady was an entrancin ture of animated indignation as she gave utterai this truism which her countrymen are so slow preciate. I experienced a glow of satisfaction. " Yes/' she went on. " they sent down from don an army of stupid men, who have kept our 1 304 ^.,^- -.rUL lont words, so the glaiuv t than n< r fering owr resoliUi .Ml ed to be of Alas! tlv.' against the lis extretiu' usiy, "ha,^ NO montli.-. gardens, on )me chim-y hrough tin- ;s accosliiii,' that he \va^ lack of a!! able. 1 am irough their r poor iimi- ■ gates, were w was upiiii ;rancing pic- utterancc t':i slow to ap- :tion. n from Lon- )t our houH- 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 uf 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 trai mentality in opposition to our two months' experic of brute force." Never before had I felt such ambition to succ and a determination not to disappoint took full ] session of me. Appreciation is a needed stimul and here it was offered to me in its most intoxica form. Ah, Valmont. Valmont, will you never g old! I am sure that at this moment, if I had I eighty, the same thrill of enthusiasm would 1 tingled to my fingers' ends. Leave the Manor of I in the morning? Not for the Bank of France! " Has my uncle acquainted you with particulai the robbery ? " "No, madame, we were talking of other thii The lady leaned back in her low chair, part closed her eyes, and breathed a deep sigh. " I can well imagine the subject of your conv tion," she said at last. "The Marquis of Blair endeavoring to impose usurer's terms upon you, \ you, nobly scorning such mercenary considerat had perhaps resolved to leave us at the earliest o tunity." " I assure you, my lady, that if any such concli had been arrived at on my part, it vanished the ment I was privileged to set foot in this dra\ room." " It is kind of you to say that, monsieur, bui must not allow your conversation with my unc prejudice you against him. He is an old man 306 -'''>■''.' - |j-"?r-ff-C'Vi> "■ •.V;,4>.-' <^- ont of traincil experience succeed, c full pos- stimulant, itoxicatin^ lever grow had been ould have lOr of Blair nee! rticulars of er thin};>." r, partially r convcrsa- Blair was you, while sideration>, •liest oppor- 1 conclusion led the mo- is drawing- :ur, but you ny uncle to 1 man liow, The Fascinating Lady Alicia and, of course, has his fancies. You would think him mercenary, oerhaps, and so he is ; but then so, too, am I. Oh, yti., 1 am, monsieur, frijjhtfully mercenary. To be mercenary, I believe, means to he 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 lioaru 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 the 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 thtir intrinsic value is twenty pounds a carat at least. bo 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 'iii^ '.j;r M ;.'"'s*v«K« The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I gether with my coveted manor house in the cc and my equally coveted mansion in Mayfair. ^ is within my grasp if I can but recover the aids." The girl blu£.hed prettily as she noticed h( tently I regarded her while she evolved this lizing mystery. I thought there was a trace of ( rassment in her laugh when she cried: " Oh, what will you think of me when you stand the situation? Pray, pray do not jud .arshly. I assure you the position I aim at used for the good of others as well as for ni pleasure. If my uncle does not make a confi( you, I must take my courage in both hands ai you all the partic- a'S, but not to-night. Of if one is to unravel such a snarl as that in wl find ourselves, he must be made aware of eve ticular, must he not?" " Certainly, my lady." " Very well, Monsieur Valmont, I shall sup deficiencies that occur in my uncle's conv( with you. There is one poinr on which I sho to warn you. Both my uncle and the police ha\ up their minds H,at a certain young man is the The police found several clews which apparei in his direction, but they were unable to *!ind to justify his arrest. At first I could have s\ had nothing whatever to do with the matter, bi 1 am not so sure. All I ask of you until wf another opportunity of consulting together is 308 •1i u Imont The Fascinating Lady Alicia the coun'ry, air. All this cr the ciiKr- iced how in- d this taiita- ice of emhar- n you uii'kr- ot judjj^o rn- im at will 111' for my (jwi! I confidant '-i inds and ;,'ive ;. Of CdurM', in which w' cf every par- ill supply any conversation I should like ice have made is the culprit. ipparently led o '\x\6. enough lave sworn he tter, but lately ntil we secure ther is to pre- serve an open mind. Please do not allow my uncle to prejudice you against him." " What is the name of this younjj man? " "He is 'he 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? " \ es. " 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 mf*. a wrinkle of perplexity on her fair brow. Thevi 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 J09 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmoni I the matter, and involved my uncle in a bitter ( while discussing it, much to my chagrin and pointment. It is as necessary for him to marry as it is for me to make a good match, but he coi be brought to sec that. Oh, he 's not at all a s young man, and my former friendship for hi ceased. Yet I should dislike very much to ta action that might harm him, therefore I have to no one but you about the evidence that is hands, and this you must treat as entirely confic giving no hint to my uncle, who is already enough against Mr. Haddon." " Does this evidence convince you that he st necklace? " " No; I do not believe that he actually stole I am persuaded he was an accessory after the is that the legal term? Now, Monsieur Valmt will say no more to-night. If I talk any longei this crisis I shall not sleep, and I wish, assured i help, to attack the situation with a very clear n: morrow." When I retired to my room, I found that could not sleep, although I needed a clear n face the problem of to-morrow. It is difficult to describe accurately the effect this intervic upon my mind, but to use a bodily simile, I n that it seemed as if I had indulged too freely in : champagne which appeared exceedingly excel first, but from which the exhilaration had n parted. No man could have been more con 310 WW ■Wr Itnont bitter quarre! n and dis.-p- marry wealth he could not all a sensih!.' for him ha-; 1 to take any have spokr!! hat is in my f confidential, dready hiiter .t he stoK- tilt.' y stole it, liut ter the fact— Valinont. w- longer ahoui isured of yrmr :lear miiul to- d that I. too, :lcar minil tu iflficult for me ntervicw had lie, I may say ely in a subtle f excellent at had now de- re completely 77/ f Fascinating^ J.aJy 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 api)eared 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. (Jf 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 iJiike of Devonshire measures two and a quarter inches through its greatest diameter. Nevertheless, such a constellation as the P.lair emeralds was not to In- disposed of very easily, and I surmised no attempt had been made either to sell them or to raise rr jney upon them. Now that I had removed myself from the glamour of her presence, I began to suspect that ilie young lady, af^er 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- flent, recalling what had latterly passed between us, that the young woman's sole desire, and a perfectly 3" SfH 5^< The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont natural desire, was to recover her missing tre There was something behind all this which I not comprehend, and I resolved in the morning tc tion the Marquis of Elair as shrewdly as he ca allow. Failing him, I should cross-question the in a somewhat dryer light than that which h; shrouded me during this interesting evening, not who knows it, but I have been befooled mor once by a woman, and I determined that in clea light I should resist the hypnotizing influence oi glorious eyes. Mon Dieii! Mon Dicu! How is for me to make good resolutions when I j from temptation! 312 CHAPTER XXIV WHE-^E 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 I 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 ? " Sri :fhi 5^:;: ^3 ::i ^ The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont " Because the evidence against him is so small the improbability of his having committed the < is so great." " What is the evidence against him ? " His lordship spoke with the dry deliberation aged solicitor. "The robbery was committed on the nig October the fifth. All day there had been a heavi and the grounds were wet. For reasons into I do not care to enter, John Haddon was h with this house and w.th our grounds. He wa known to my servants, and, unfortunately, p with them, for he is an open-handed spendthrift estate of his elder brother, Lord Steflfenham, a my own to the west, and Lord Steflfenham's he three miles from where we sit. On the night fifth a ball was given in the mansion of Lord S ham, to which, of course, my niece and mysel invited, and which invitation we accepted. I > quarrel with the elder brother. It was known t Haddon that my niece intended to wear her n of emeralds. The robbery occurred at a tim< most crimes of that nature are committed in ( houses, namely, while we were at dinner, an ho ing which the servants are almost invariably lower part of the house. In October the d?ys ; ting short. The night was exceptionally da although the rain had ceased, not a star was The thief placed a ladder against the sill of on upper windows, opened it, and came in. He mi 314 mont D small, and d the crime ration of an he night of a heavy rain, 5 into which was familiar He was well :ely, popular dthrift. The ham, adjoins im's house is night of the Lord Steffen- myself were ;d. I had no lown to John her necklace a time when ed in country , an hour dur- iriably in the : d?ys are get- illy dark, to- Lf was visible. I of one of the He must have Where the Emeralds u^ere Found been perfectly familiar with the house, for there are evidences that he went direct to the boudoir where the jewel case had been carelessly left on my niece's dressing table when she came down to dinner. It had been taken from the strong room about an hour be- fore. The box was locked, but, of course, that made no difference. The thief wrenched the lid off, break- ing the lock, stole the necklace, and escaped by the way he came." " Did he leave the window open and the ladder in place?" " Yes." "Doesn't that strike you as very extraordinary?" "Xo. I do not assert that he is a professional burglar, who would take all the precautions against J the discovery that might have been expected from one ^ of the craft. Indeed, the man's carelessness in going j straight across the country to his brother's house, and I leaving footsteps in the soft earth, easily traceable almost to the very boundary fence, shows he is in- Icapable of any serious thought." " Is John Haddon rich ? " "He hasn't a penny." " Did you go to the ball that night? " " Yes ; I had promised to go." " Was John Haddon there ? " " Yes ; but he appeared late. He should have been resent at the opening, and his brother was seriously nnoyed by his absence. When he did come he acted a wild and reckless manner, which gave the guests 315 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont Ti^ the impression that he had been drinking. Bo niece and myself were disgusted with his actioi " Do you think your niece ^ ispects him ? " " She certainly did not at first, and was ind when I told her, coming home from the ball, tl jewels were undoubtedly in Steflfenham Houst thou^^ they were not round her neck, but lat think her opinion has changed." " To go back a moment. Did any of your s( see him prowling about the place? " " They all say they didn't, but I myself sa just before dusk, coming across the fields towa hous'^^. and next morning we found the same foe both going and coming. It seems to me the ( staatial evidence is rather strong." " It's a pity that no one but yourself sa What more evidence are the authorities for?" " They are waiting until he attempts to dis the jewels." " You think, then, he has not done so up to " I think he will never do so." " Then why did he steal them ? " " To prevent the marriage of my niece wit Carter, of Sheffield, to whom she is betrothed were to be married early in the new year." " My lord, you amaze me. If Mr. Carter ar Alicia are engaged, why should the theft of th( interfere with the ceremony ? " " Mr. Jonas Carter is a most estimable ma 316 'MK Imont g. Both !• ;, i actions.' im? ,ras indign mt ball, that tur House, even DUt latterly I jrour servant- self saw him, s towartl this .me footprint^ e the circur.i- self saw hini •ities waiting to dispose oi I up to date' :ce with Jonas rothed. They ir." irter and Lady t of the je\vel5 ble man, who, ' Mr. Jonas Caiter." mm"¥:-M rs"* (^N-. »*^^"< !S: 1 ^ ^ ■^m^ "l^^^^^P^ fVhere 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. ^v.th a large estate in Derbyshire, and a house front- .ng Hyde Park, in London. He is a very strict busi- ness man, and both my niece and mvself agree that he IS also an eligible man. I myself am rather strict .n 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. Ihey, 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 hfty thousand pounds, and that money I oflfered 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 317 mm^m.m^'w^^i^r^' The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont ^1 "••i «>ii -^1 out his engagement because the jewels have stolen? " "He does. Why should he not?" " Then surely you will advance the fifty th( necessary ? " " I will not. Why should I ? " "Well, it seems to me," said I, with a laugh, " the young man has very definitely checl both of you." " He has, until I have laid him by the heels I am determined to do if he were the brother of Lord Steflfenhams." " Please answer one more question. Are ; termined to put the young man in prison, or you be content with the return of the ei intact?" " Of course I should prefer to put him in pn get the emeralds too, but if there's no choice matter, I must content myself with the neck " Very well, my lord, I will undertake the This conference had detained us in the si after eleven, and then, as it was a clear, crisp ber morning, I went out through the gardens park, that I might walk along the well-kept road and meditate upon my course of action, oi think over what had been said, because I cc map my route until I had heard the secret w Lady Alicia promised to impart. As at pre structed, it seemed to me the best way to g to the young man, show him as effectively as 318 '^fi'mn'k-'y-r^.i-^^ «t"»»:^li Imont s have been ifty thousand vith a !-liglit y checkmated ; heels, which ;her of twenty Are you de- son, or wouM the emerald? 1 in prison and choice in tbe e necklace. " .ke the case." the study till , crisp Deceni- irdens into the :ll-kept private tion, or, rather, se I could not :cret which the at present in- ly to go direct vely as I could fVhere th 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 i.y-7w The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont Paris, and yet you do not seem to comprehend that plethora of money means I " "Well, madame, I have seen Paris, and T seen a good deal of the world, but I am not so c( you will secure the million to spend." "What!" she cried, stopping short, that wrinkle which betokened temper appearing oi brow. " Do you think we won't get thr emc then?" " Oh, I am sure we will get the emeralds. I mont. pledge you my word. But if Mr. Jonas ( before marriage calls a halt upon the ceremony your uncle places fifty thousand pounds upon the I confess I am very pessimistic about your obt control of the million afterwards." All her vivacity instantaneously returned. •' Pooh ! " she cried, dancing round in front and standing there directly in ^ path, so came to a stand. " Pooh! " she repeated, snappi fingers, with an inimitable gesture of that lovelj " Monsieur Valmont, I am disappointed in you are not nearly so nice as you were last evening very uncomplimentary in you to intimate tha' once I am married to Mr. Jonas I shall not v from him all the money I want Do not rest yo on the ground; look at me and answer!" I glanced up at ht , and could not forbear lai The witchery of the wood was in that girl ; ycf perceptible trace of the Gallic devil flickered i enchanting eyes of hers. I could not help my 320 mont chend what and 1 have )t so certain , that httle •ing on l.vr \r emcralils, lids. I, Val- Jonas Carter ■cmony until )on the tal)lc, lur obtaining ned. front of tne, h, so that I snapping her t lovely hand, in you. You vening. It i^ te tha-'. wlif^n 1 not wheedle rest your eyes bear laughing. irl ; yes, and a cered in those elp myself. Where the Emeralds were Found I " Ah, Madame la Marquise dc Bcllairs, how jauntily you would scatter despair in that susceptible court of Louis ! " "Ah, Monsieur Eugene de Valmont." she cried, mimicking my tones, and imitating my manner with an exactitude that amazed me, "you are once more my dear de Valmont of last night. I dreamed of you, 1 assure yon I did, and now to find you in the morning, oh, so changed ! " She clasped her little hands and in- clined her head, while the sweet voice sank into a cadence of melancholy which seemed so genuine that the mocking ripple of a laugh immediately following was almost a shock to me. Where had this creature of the dull English countryside learned all such frou- froH of gesture and tone? "Have you ever seen Sarah Bernhardt?" I asked. Now, the average Englishwoman would have in- quired the genesis of so inconsequent a q - ♦'on, but Lady Alicia followed the trend of my thought, and an- swered at once as if my query had been quite ex- pected : " Mais non, monsieur. Sarah the Divine ! Ah, she comes with my million a year and the house of Hyde Park. No. the only inhabitant of my real world whom 1 have yet seen is Monsieur Valmont, and he, alas! I find so changeable. But now, adieu frivolity; we must be serious," and she walked sedately by my side. "Do you know where you are going, monsieur? Vou are going to church. Oh, do not look frightened ; 321 v&a^-'i.^ Mtli The Triumphs f Eugene Valmont not to a service. I am do rating the church holly, and you shMl heln ;. and get thorns ir poor fingers." The private road, y\\ i:> to this time had through a forest, nov rcruh. d a secluded gli which stood a very sn-..11, 1 - i exquisite, churc dently centuries older tt an i!;i mar = '• >ve ha Beyond it were gray 'ii'^ r- • ich Lady pointed out to me as r n'.nans y'- Imont church with orns in yof.r e had passeil led glade i.i church, cvi- »ve had kft. Lady Alicia ariginal man- if the secoml rmed the ])ri- 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 clerg)'man, 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 i-T'.'-;;'*®'B5S5'SBt. The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont of the mpdman in his calm countenance. His v well-cut {.-ice, clean shaven, and strikingly manly one of the pews was seated a woman— I learned i wards she was Lady Alicia's maid, who had bee structed to come and go from the house by a path, while we had taken the longer road. I reti and escorted Lady Alicia to the church, and ther( introduced to Mr. Haddon and his friend, the ma divine. The ceremony was at once performed, man of the world as I professed myself to be, th acting of private theatrical, in a church grated me. When the maid and I were asked to sig book as witnesses I said : " Surely this is carrying realism a little too Mr. Haddon smiled, and replied : " I am amazed to hear a Frenchman objecti realism going to its full length, and speaking fo self, I should be delighted to see the autograph renowned Eugene Valmont," and with that he fered me the pen, whereupon I scrawled my sign The maid had already signed, and disappeared, reputed clergyman bowed us out of the church, ing in the porch to see us walk up the avenue. "Ed," cried John Haddon, "I'll be back ^ half an hour, and we'll attend to the clock. You mind waiting?" " Not in the least, dear boy. God bless you and the tremor in his voice seemed to me ca realism one step farther still. The Lady Alicia, with downcast head, hurt 328 mont His was a manly. 1 n arned after- ad been in- by a foot- I returncil d there was ■he made-up ormed, and, be, this en- Efrated upon to sign the le too far?" objecting to dng for my- graph of the lat he prof- ly signature. )eared. The lurch, stand- enue. back within . You won't Where the Emeralds were Found i on until we were within the gloom of the forest, and then, ignoring me. she turned suddenly to the young man, and placed her two hands on his shoul- ders. " Oh, Jack, Jack ! " she cried. He kissed her twice on the lips. "Jack, Monsieur Valmont insists on the emeralds " The young man laughed. Her ladyship stood frontmg him with her back toward me. Tenderly the young man unfastened something at the throat of that h.gh-necked dress of hers, then there was a snap, and he drew out an amazing, dazzling, shimmering sheen of green, that seemed to turn the whole bleak Decem- ber landscape verdant as with a touch of spring The girl hid her rosy face against him. and over her shoul- der, with a smile, he handed me the celebrated Blair emeralds. " There is the treasure, Valmont," he cried, " on condition that you do not molest the culprit." "Or the accessory after the fact," gurgled Lady Ahcia in smothered tones, with a hand clasping to- gether her high-necked dress at the throat. " We trust to your invention. Valmont, to deliver that necklace to uncle with a detective story that will thrill him to his very heart." We heard the clock strike eight ; then a second later smaller bells chimed a quarter past, and another second after, they tinkled the half hour. "Hello'" cned Haddon. " Ed has attended to the clock himself, w hat a good fellow he is." ^'- 329 The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont I looked at my watch ; it was twenty-five mi to nine. " Was the ceremony genuine, then ? " I askec " Ah, Valmont," said the young man, pattin wife affectionately on the shoulder, " nothing on can be more genuine than that ceremony was." And the volatile Lady Alicia snuggled clo? him. THE END 330 mont \ve minutes [ asked, patting liis ing on earth was." ;d closer to ('j> WHE RE LOVE CONQUERS. The Reckoning. By Robert W. Chambers. The author's intention is to treat, in a scries of four or five romances, that part of the war for independence which particularly aftected the great landed families of northern New York the Johnsons, represented by Sir William. Sir John, Guy Johnson, and Colonel Claus; the notonous Butlers, father and son. the Schuylcrs Van Rensselaers, and others. The first romance of the series, Cardigan, was followed by the second. The Maid-at-Arms. The third, in order, is not completed. The fourth is the present volume. c- ^rn-^'^'^T^u P''^'^"'Jed to portray life on the baronial estate of Sir William Johnson, the first uneasiness concerning the coming trouble, the first discordant note struck in the harmonious councils of the Long House, so. in The Maid-at-Arms, which followed in order, the author attempted to paint a patroon family disturbed by the approaching rumble of battle. That romance dealt with the first serious split in the Iroquois Confederacy ; it showed the Long House shattered though not fallen ; the demoralization and final Might of the great landed families who remained loyal to the British Crown; and it struck the key-note to the future attitude of the Iroquois toward the patriots of the frontier— revenge for their losses at the battle of Oriskany— and ended with the march of the militia and continental troops on Saratoga. The third romance, as yet incomplete and unpublished, deals with the war-path and those who followed it led by the landed gentry of Tryon County ; and ends with the first solid blow de- livered at the Long House, and the terrible punishment of the ureat Confederacy. The present romance, the fourth in chronological order, picks up the thread at that point. *^ The author is not conscious of having taken any liberties with History in preparing a framework of facts for a mantle of romance. New York, May 26, 1904. Robert W. Chambers. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. NEW YORK. A SPLENDID NEWSPAPER YARN. A Yellow Journalist. By Miriam Michelson, Author of "1 Bishop's Carriage," etc. Illustrated. i2mo namental Cloth, $1.50. This novel has the true newspaper thril from beginning to end. The intense des "cover" one's assignment completely and brought out in the midst of the melodramf mosphere in which a modern newspaper woma live. The stories are all true to life, and mixe the excitement there is a wealth of hum( pathos. •• There is a dash about ' A Yellow Journalist ' that e> like a fresh breeze on a sharp winter morning." — Chicago Record "The book is bright and tXiXtxXsMATig"-— Minneapolis " There are just a few writers who have succeeded in to paper the atmosphere of a newspaper office, and s appearance of ' A Yellow Journalist,' Miriam Michelson numbered among them." — T^e Bookman. "Miss Michelson 's work has found great favor. Tli contained in this book are characteristic." —Philadelphia Publii " Only one with the genuine journalistic instinct, ^ agonized over a story and known the ecstacy of a ' beat ' anguish of being beat, can write of news-gathering Michelson does. But she has other good qualities in a( these — a good dramatic instinct, a piquant humor, and a k; of human nature. The i - irteen chapters of 'A Yellow J< are mighty interesting reading." — Baltimore News. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW ARN. of " In the 1 2mo. Or- r thrill in it se desire to and well is >dramatic at- woman must d mixed with humor and that exhilarates • Record- Herald. eapolis Tribune. eded in reducing :, and since the chelson must be ror. The stories a Public Ledger. istinct, who has , ' beat ' and the ithering as Miss ies in addition to and a knowledge 'ellow Journalist ' s. ^EW YORK. "A btttttiftil romance of the «Uyi of Robe rt BufM." Nancy Stair. of - Mmrfr. ?^. ^^,''°'' Macartney Lane, author of -Mills of God." Illustrated. ,2mo. Cloth. $i 5a With very much the grace and cham, of Robert Loui. Stevenson, the author of 'The Life of Nancy Stair ' com! humTl r' f Tf''^ characterization, color, and humor She has also delicacy, dramatic quality, and that rare gift— historic imagination. h 7, u mac " • The Life of Nancy Stair ' is interesting from the first sentence to the last; the characters are vital and Je.al^ most entertaining company; the denouement unexpected and picturesque and cleverly led up to from one of the hh h tTTi *^'."°'^ ™°^^* '^^f^y "d without a hitch. Robert Burns is neither idealized nor caricatured : of p^^/^'^^u ""*''"' ^*"^"» Carmichael. and the Duke 0^ Borthewicke are admirably relieved against each other, and Nancy herself as irresistible as she is natural To be sure she is a wonderful child, but then .he manages to naturalness are two of the charms of a story that both reaches the heart and engages the mind, and which can Trljl'-yl^ r"'" ^"^ *'^^^ * ^"«« *"d»"<=«- A great deal of delightful talk and interesting incidents are usef for vei^hl!, rr '^ *'* ''°'^- ''■'^°^^^^ ^«^^» i» '^"l advise evenrbody he know, to read it; and those who do not care Its luerary quality cannot escape the interest of a lore. ' fuU of incident and atmosphere." A itctty b«« ascribed with th« word • chamla/- — >-^ _ , —WatMngt m ftH, BOOKS BY SIR GILBERT PARKER. I N^ The Seats of the Mighty. Being the Memoirs of Captain Robert Moray time an Officer in the Virginia Regiment and aft. of Amherst 's Regiment. Illustrated. $1.50- "Another historical romance of the vividness and mte 'The sSts of he Mighty' has never come from the pe, ArnericS From theist chapter to the last word mteresi bSk nev;rwl^es: one finds it difficult to interrupt the n S breathing space. It whirls with excitement and stra venture."— CA/Vag-tf Record. The Trail of the Sword. $1 25 "Mr. Parker here adds to a reputation already wide a. demonstrates his power of pictorial portrayal and of strc maTc St?on anrclimax."-/'A//«^/^^ The Trespasser. $1.25. " Interest pith, force, and charm-Mr. Parker's new s sessesil these qualities. . . . Almost bare of synthe ical tion his pSlgraphs are stirring because they are real, at timelias we have read the great masters of romance- XtsiVjr— The Critic. The Translation of a Savage. $1.25. "A book which no one will be ^tisfied to ^ut down end has been matter of certainty and assurance. -The A Mrs. Falchion. $1.25- "A well-knit story, told in an exceedingly interesting holding the reader's attentio n to the end. The Pomp of the Lavilettes. i6mo. Clot "Its sincerity and ™gged force will commend it to love and seek strong work in fictio n. -JAecrtttc. D. APPI.ETON AND COMPANY. NEW KER. Moray, somc- ,nd afterward and intensit\ f the pen of an interest in the pt the narrative and strange ad- wide, and anew i of strong clra- •in. 5 new story po:.- nthetical decor.i- real. We reaii omance— brea'ih- it down until the — TAe Nation. cresting way. and . Cloth, $1.:; ,d it to those \\ho 'ic. NEW YORK LOVE. MYSTERY. VENICE. The Clock and the Key. By Arthur Henry Vesey. i2mo. Ornamental Cloth, $1.50. This is a tale of a mystery connected with an old clock. The lover, an American man of means, is startled out of his sensuous, inactive life in Venice by his lady-love's scorn for his indolence. She begs of him to perform any task that will prove his persistence and worth. With the charm of Venice as a background, one follows the adventures of the lover endeavoring to read the puzzling hints of the old clock as to the whereabouts of the famous jewels of many centuries ago. After following many false clues ihe lover ultimately solves the mystery, triumphs over his rivals, and wins the girl. AMERICA. " For an abiorbing story it would be haid to \xaX."—Harp*r's IVttkfy. ENGLAND. " It will hold the reader till the last ftLS^.^—lAmdon Timts. SCOTLAND. -Glasg^h^f^ '"'^*'^ ^^ comparison with Poe's immortal ' Gold Bug.* •• NORTH. " It ought to make a record."— JfontreaJ Sun. SOUTH. -unique.-^S^Ki^j;.^.^*"'^ ''''"'•^'' "°"»" storie-charoiB, EAST. " Don't fail to get it."-AVw VorA Stifi. WEST. Tou ti'burn Ih^L*J'''*ui"*^n^'"7.°U°'"8^ »"BILE STORl i i 1 ■ : ' i r. >i •» r Baby Bullet. By Lloyd Osbourne, Author of ♦• Th manUct." Illustrated. lamo. Ornament $1.50- This it the joIUcst, moit ddightfully hunu ■torjr that has been written in the last ten yei Bullet b sn ** orphan automobile." It is all th adopticm of Baby Bullet by her travelling compi a dear, sweet, human modem giri meets a very n nan, and a double romance is begun and finisl automobiling tour through England. "Th* Italy it aMWtkly written, fuU of action aad hat —PkUatlt^kim Ft yB^ BidiM' It withoot doabt th* b«t written tnd taiaiaf MtonobUe itoiy yet pabUihed. The moit cnjorabi "T_?*r .*• **" «"««*»^ wifofced hvmor. which &idt ezi ^ia Indicrmu titaatkmi. but in bright and ipirited dii flMcrmtiaa tad aatwid ^UMteriMtion?'— jy. Pattl Dufak '• Certain itoriet there are 'that a nan ferrenUv withe daim at hb own. Of these, ' Baby Ballet ' it mm."— JMk'tM "It it Imad cMMdy, fiUl of adveatwoot fan, derer an The tale U faacinatim| from the ttart. The adTeatorea of I are dutiactiy fanBy.''--Arra> Var* Sim. ""nie charactcn are lighdy drawn, 4)ut with great ham stoiy that refrcthct a tiied brahi and prorokct a li^t heart." -CJUai " It it a mott tatitfyiag and hamoroot narrative." — ImdiaM^ "One of the fnnnlctt icenet In recent fiction it the et< antomobile party from the peroxide blcode who hat aat« adTertitement «w a Outpmrnr—SoM Fra$uut» CkrtmeU. D. APPLBTOW AND COMPANY, NEW 01374331 rroRY. f "The Motor. lamenUl Qoth, )r humorous lovf| ten yean. Babyj I all through thej (companion thatj veiy nice young] d finiihed on an [ and hMdthlU fuB .' | 4*Am FmUU Ltdftr. ten sad most enter> | cnioxabk tetare of { not tzprnsion noi rited dJidogac, keen If wiihM be micht 'BulHmtrt Sun. IcTtr aad effective. uey of Baby Bullet peat bnaior. It is* t beart." —Cki€«g» Tribum. •IndianaptHs News. I tbe escape of the bat aaswctcd their mieU. NEW YORK. 10379