THE BLUE LIGHTS
 
 A hasty examination of the sailing list showed her the astonishing 
 truth. Richard was not on board.
 
 THE 
 
 BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 BY 
 
 ARNOLD FREDERICKS 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE IVORY SNUFP BOX, ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 WILL GREFfi 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY 
 W. J. WATT & COMPANY
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 2135585
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE big, mud-spattered touring car, which 
 for the past hour had been plowing its 
 way steadily northward from the city of 
 Washington, hesitated for a moment before the 
 gateway which marked the end of the well kept 
 drive, then swept on to the house. 
 
 A man, stoutly built, keen of eye, showing haste 
 in his every movement, sprang from the machine 
 and ascended the veranda steps. 
 
 "Does Richard Duvall live here?" he inquired, 
 curtly, of the smiling old colored woman who 
 came to the door. 
 
 " Deed he do, suh. Does you want to see 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes. At once, please. Tell him it is most 
 important. My name is Hodgman." 
 
 [The servant eyed him with cool disfavor. "Set 
 
 3
 
 & THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 down, suh," she remarked stiffly. "I ll tell him 
 you is here." 
 
 The caller watched her, as she disappeared 
 into the house, then cast himself impatiently into 
 a chair and lit a cigar. 
 
 He paid no attention to the attempts of two 
 clumsy collie puppies to attract his favorable 
 notice, but contented himself with making a quick 
 survey of the wide comfortable veranda, with its 
 big roomy chairs, the wicker table, bearing a 
 great jar of red peonies, the smooth green lawns, 
 swept by the late afternoon sun. 
 
 "Fine old place," he muttered to himself. 
 "Wonder if I can persuade him to go?" 
 
 As the car which had brought Mr. Hodgman 
 on his hasty trip from Washington dashed up to 
 the front of the house, Grace Duvall, looking 
 very charming in a blue linen dress, was just ap 
 proaching it from the rear. 
 
 She held a pair of shears in her hand, and her 
 apron was filled to overflowing with hundred-leaf 
 roses. "Dick oh, Dick!" she called, as she came 
 down the long avenue of syringas and lilacs which 
 led to the house. "The sweet peas are nearly 
 ready to bloom." 
 
 Richard Duvall, looking as simply pastoral as 
 though he had never tracked an international
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 5 
 
 crook to cover, raised his head from the flower 
 bed, in which he had been carefully setting out 
 circle after circle of geranium plants. 
 
 "Are they?" he laughed. "That s good. Now 
 all we need is a few good hot days." He gath 
 ered up his trowel and rake, and started toward 
 the barn. 
 
 Grace put her arm through her husband s and 
 together they strolled across the springy green 
 turf, their faces smiling and happy. The honey 
 moon showed no signs of waning. 
 
 This lovely old country place, in southern 
 Maryland, had been one of Richard Duvall s 
 dreams for many years, and after his marriage 
 to Grace Ellicott, in Paris, it had become hers, 
 as well. It was but a short time after their return 
 to America that they decided to make it a reality. 
 
 Grace had encouraged her husband In the plan 
 of giving up, for a time at least, his warfare 
 against crime, his pursuit of criminals of the 
 higher and more dangerous type, and had per 
 suaded him to buy the farm which had once be 
 longed to his mother s people, and settle down to 
 the life of a country gentleman. 
 
 His office was still maintained, under the able 
 direction of one of his assistants, but Duvall gave 
 little or no attention to its affairs. He was glad
 
 6 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 to withdraw, for the first time in over nine years, 
 from active work, and devote his energies to early 
 potatoes, prize dogs, hunters, and geranium plants 
 and, above all, to the peaceful enjoyment of his 
 honeymoon, and the making of Grace the happiest 
 woman in the world. 
 
 She, on her part, found in their present situa 
 tion all the joys of existence for which she had 
 longed. With little or no liking for the monoto 
 nous round of society and its duties, and a pas 
 sionate love of nature, she found in the many 
 and complex duties of managing her part of their 
 extensive estate a far greater happiness than any 
 which city life could have offered her. 
 
 The considerable fortune which her husband s 
 clever work while in Paris had restored to her, 
 had been safely invested in well paying securities, 
 and she found her greatest joy in utilizing at 
 least a part of her income in beautifying their new 
 home. 
 
 Richard had steadily refused to make any use 
 of the money. It was a matter of pride with him, 
 that his own savings had enabled him to purchase 
 the property; but when Grace proposed to build 
 an addition to the house, to provide him with a 
 more comfortable library and work room, or 
 insisted upon having the roads throughout the
 
 place elaborately macadamized, he was obliged 
 to submit to her wishes. In this way, they planned 
 and built for the future, together. 
 
 The farm was a large one, comprising some 
 two hundred acres, and the old stone house sur 
 rounded by w r hite oaks and tulip poplars had once 
 been a show place, before the declining fortunes 
 of its former owners had caused it to fall into a 
 state of mellow and time-honored decay. Now 
 all was changed. Grace, with the able assistance 
 of old Uncle Abe Turner, a relic of ante bellum 
 times, spent hours daily in bringing order out of 
 the chaos of tangled myrtle and ivy, overgrown 
 box and hedge, thickets cf syringa and lilac bushes 
 and weed-grown lawns. 
 
 It was a gigantic task, yet a joyous one as it 
 ever is, to those who came to it with the love of 
 nature in their hearts. To Grace, the plants and 
 shrubs, the great strong oaks, the towering pop 
 lars, each seemed to have a distinct personality. 
 Under her energetic hand, the place once more 
 took on the aspect of well kept and orderly beauty 
 which was such a contrast to its former down-at- 
 the-heels appearance. It seemed as though the 
 growing things realized the personal interest she 
 took in them, and responded as they never re 
 spond to the ignorant or unsympathetic.
 
 8 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Richard was concerned with his fields of timo 
 thy and clover, his early corn, his berries and fruit 
 trees, to say nothing of his collies, his prize cows 
 and Kentucky horses. In such a life, time never 
 hangs heavy he was busy studying, planning, 
 working, from morning to night, and his active 
 mind soon convinced his capable overseer and the 
 farm hands as well that, although Richard Duvall 
 was by no means a professional farmer, he could 
 still show them a thing or two when it came to 
 the rotation of crops, the spraying of fruit trees, 
 or the proper treatment of worn out soils. These 
 were aspects of farming life which the hide-bound 
 conservatism of the local farmers caused them to 
 jeer at, as newfangled notions gotten from books. 
 Later when they saw the man who farmed with 
 his head as well as his hands gather in two bushels 
 where they had barely been able to secure one. 
 they began to sit up and take notice. 
 
 "I got the new hedges all set out today," Grace 
 went on, as she patted her husband s rather grimy 
 hand. "They will be charming, against the gray 
 stone of the wall. But we must have new gate 
 posts. The old ones are likely to tumble into the 
 road at any moment." 
 
 "I ll have Martin come out tomorrow and look 
 them over. There s plenty of stone down in the
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 9 
 
 lower pasture. Why not carry the wall right 
 along the whole front of the property? It ought 
 not to cost a great deal." 
 
 "We will. And I m going to have a new spring 
 house built, too. The old one is falling to 
 pieces." She looked up at her husband as he de 
 posited the rake in the tool room and they started 
 up the shaded v/alk toward the house. "Aren t 
 you glad, Dick, that we re alive?" 
 
 He pressed her arm. "Well I should say 
 so, little girl! Why do you ask me that?" 
 
 "Oh you know what your friends all said 
 that a man might as well be dead, as buried out 
 here in the country. I think they are the ones 
 who are not alive cooped up in the city. Don t 
 you?" 
 
 Richard nodded. He was thinking for the 
 moment of his former active life when some 
 battle of wits with a noted crook had kept him 
 sleepless for nights. "It s rather different," he 
 laughed. "Isn t it?" 
 
 "Yes and much better. Don t you think so, 
 dear? You wouldn t want to go back to it 
 would you?" 
 
 "Not for anything in the world," he assured 
 her, as he swept the newly seeded lawns with a 
 contented glance. "I liked the other life, of course
 
 10 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 the excitement, the danger of it; but this is 
 better much better. Here, Don!" he called to 
 a graceful collie which was barking vociferously at 
 some distant vehicle in the road. "Come here 
 and be quiet." He turned with Grace to the great 
 vine-covered side porch and sank contentedly into 
 a rocking chair. "Well, little girl it s been a 
 busy day, and I m tired. We got the early rye 
 all cut on the lower field today. Guess we ll put 
 in late potatoes, after it s plowed. Here, Don 
 come back here! What s the matter with you?" 
 He rose and whistled to the dog, which was bound 
 ing across the lawn in the direction of the road. 
 "Come back, I say!" 
 
 "It s someone coming in," said Grace, uneasily. 
 "In a machine. I wonder who it can be?" 
 
 "Possibly Hudson, the veterinary. He was 
 coming today, to look at that heifer." 
 
 "He hasn t a machine like that. This is a big 
 touring car." She turned to her husband. 
 "Hadn t you better go in and fix up a bit, Dick? 
 It may be company." 
 
 Duvall laughed. "If it is, they ll have to take 
 me as I am," he said; then again called to the dog. 
 
 A moment later the servant, who had inter 
 viewed the caller at the front door, came out to 
 the side porch. "Gentleman to see you, Mr. Du-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 11 
 
 vail," she said. Seems to be in a powerful 
 hurry, too." 
 
 "All right, Aunt Lucy," said Duvall as he made 
 his way to the front of the house. 
 
 "Is this Richard Duvall?" the visitor asked, 
 in a quick, almost peremptory tone, as the detec 
 tive joined him. 
 
 "Yes. That is my name. What can I do for 
 you?" 
 
 The newcomer rose nervously from his chair 
 and began chewing upon his half-smoked cigar. 
 "Had the devil of a time to find you, Mr. Du 
 vall." 
 
 "You came out from Washington, I suppose," 
 remarked the detective, wondering what his vis 
 itor could want w r ith him. 
 
 "Yes. Got your address from Hicks, of the 
 Treasury Department. He said you were about 
 twelve miles out. I seem to have come about 
 twenty." 
 
 "Perhaps you went around by way of Laurel. 
 It s much further, that way. What can I do 
 for you, Mr. " He paused interro 
 gatively. 
 
 The man looked up at him quickly. "My 
 name s Hodgman Thomas Hodgman of New 
 York. I represent John Stapleton."
 
 12 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "John Stapieton, the banker?" asked Duvall, 
 surprised. 
 
 "Yes. You know him, don t you?" 
 "Yes. Quite well. I handled a case for him 
 once some years ago. Why?" Duvall s face 
 became grave. He began to realize that the in 
 terview was likely to become suddenly important. 
 John Stapieton, the multi-millionaire banker, was 
 not in the habit of sending messengers to any 
 one, without good reason. 
 
 "So he said," went on Mr. Hodgman, resuming 
 his chair. "That s why I m here. He wants you 
 to take another " 
 "Another?" 
 
 "Yes. Another case. Quick." 
 "It s quite out of the question." 
 "Nonsense! This is important. Money s no 
 object; name your own terms." 
 
 "It isn t a question of terms, Mr. Hodgman. 
 I have withdrawn, for the time being at least, 
 from active professional work." 
 
 "I know." The visitor flicked the ashes im 
 patiently from his cigar and sought nervously in 
 his pockets for a match. "That s what they told 
 me at your office, in New York. Said you were 
 on your honeymoon, and didn t want to be both 
 ered."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 13 
 
 "That s true. I don t." 
 
 "I told Mr. Stapleton that. He sent me to see 
 you ; said you might change your mind, when you 
 heard about the case." 
 
 "It is quite impossible. I do not care to take 
 up any detective work at present." 
 
 Mr. Hodgman fidgeted nervously in his chair. 
 "You must listen to what I have to say, Mr. 
 Duvall, at any rate. Mr. Stapleton would not 
 hear to my returning, after seeing you, with 
 out having explained to you the nature of the 
 case." 
 
 Duvall leaned back, and began to fondle the 
 long moist nose of the collie which sat beside his 
 chair. "If you insist, Mr. Hodgman, I will listen, 
 of course; but I assure you it will be quite use 
 less." 
 
 "I hope not. The case is most distressing. 
 Mr. Stapleton s only child has been kidnapped!" 
 
 "Kidnapped!" Duvall sat up with a start, 
 every line of his face tense with professional in 
 terest. "When? Where?" 
 
 "In Paris. The cablegram arrived this morn 
 ing. I don t know the details. Mrs. Stapleton 
 has been spending the winter abroad. Mr. Staple- 
 ton was to join her this month. She is living at 
 their house in the Avenue Kleber, Paris. The
 
 14 THE ; BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 child was out walking with a nurse. It has been 
 stolen. That s all I know." 
 "When did it happen?" 
 
 "Yesterday morning. Mrs. Stapleton did not 
 cable at first, believing that the boy would be 
 found during the course of the day. Naturally 
 she did not wish to alarm her husband needlessly, 
 and the Prefect of Police, it seems, had assured 
 her that the child would undoubtedly be recov 
 ered before night. It wasn t. This morning Mr. 
 Stapleton got a long cablegram from his wife, 
 telling him of the boy s disappearance. He s half 
 crazy over the thing." 
 
 "What is he going to do?" 
 "I don t know. He sent me to see you at once. 
 I m his secretary, you know. When I couldn t 
 find you in New York, he told me to come here. 
 I arrived in Washington an hour ago, and came 
 right out. Mr. Stapleton said if any man on 
 earth could find his boy for him, you could." 
 
 "I suppose the thing is a matter of blackmail 
 ransom " 
 
 "Very likely. They will probably demand a 
 huge sum. No requests have been made, as yet, 
 so far as I know. These fellows usually wait a 
 week or two, before showing their hand, to give 
 the unfortunate parents a chance to worry them-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 15 
 
 selves half to death. I suppose they figure that 
 then they ll be more likely to come across with 
 the money." 
 
 "Yes. That s the scheme. A rotten business, 
 too. Hanging is too good for such wretches I" 
 
 "That s what I say. Of course you can under 
 stand how Mr. Stapleton feels." 
 
 "Of course. He will sail at once, I suppose." 
 
 "That s the worst of it. He can t go till Sat 
 urday. Tomorrow s Thursday that s three days 
 off. There s a deal on here involving millions 
 something he s been working to put through for 
 months. Of course he doesn t consider anything 
 like that, when it comes to his child; but he s 
 got to think of his associates men who have 
 intrusted their money to him. He can t possibly 
 sail before Saturday. He wants you to go ahead 
 of him. There s a fast boat leaving in the morn 
 ing. You could take that. We can have a con 
 ference tonight. It will mean mighty quick work, 
 though." He glanced at his watch. "After six 
 now. There s no train till midnight the sleeper. 
 But Mr. Stapleton told me to charter a special. 
 We can be in New York by one o clock in the 
 morning, if we start right now." He looked at 
 Duvall in eager expectancy. 
 
 The latter frowned, his gaze wandering off to
 
 16 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 the distant fields, where the newly plowed earth 
 reminded him of his plans for the morrow. Yet 
 here was a man, a friend, who had helped him 
 much, in the earlier days of his career, begging 
 him to come to his assistance in a matter almost 
 of life or death. It was a difficult decision that 
 he was called upon to make. The thought of 
 leaving Grace hurt him deeply; yet she would pre 
 fer to stay behind, in case he should go, to look 
 after the affairs of the place. With the assistance 
 of the overseer and the hands, he knew that she 
 could manage everything during a brief absence 
 on his part it seemed unlikely that the matter 
 would require more than three or four weeks, at 
 the outside. 
 
 Mr. Hodgman broke in upon his thoughts. 
 "You ll go, Mr. Duvall? Mr. Stapleton is de 
 pending on you. He has the utmost faith in your 
 abilities. He knows your familiarity with Paris 
 the work you have done there, in the past. He 
 believes that, by intrusting the matter to a fellow 
 countryman, he will get his boy back again. He 
 hasn t much faith in foreign detectives. He s set 
 his heart on having you start for Paris at once. 
 I can t go back and tell him that you have re 
 fused." Mr. Hodgman spoke in a loud and 
 earnest voice, due to his very evident excitement.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 17 
 
 Neither he nor Duvall noticed that Grace had 
 approached them, and was standing in the open 
 doorway of the house. 
 
 Before the detective had an opportunity to 
 reply, Grace spoke. "What is it, Richard?" she 
 inquired, quietly. 
 
 Duvall rose, presented Mr. Hodgman to his 
 wife, and bade her sit down. Then, in a few 
 words, he acquainted her with the circumstances 
 which led to the latter s visit. 
 
 "Think of that poor mother, alone there in 
 Paris," Hodgman supplemented. "Think of her 
 suffering, her anxiety. I realize how much we 
 are asking, to take Mr. Duvall away from you, 
 especially at this time; but, it is Mr. Staple- 
 ton s only child a boy of six. You can under 
 stand how he must feel." 
 
 Grace nodded. "Yes, I can understand," she 
 said, slowly, then turned to her husband. 
 
 "What do you think, dear?" he asked her. 
 
 "I think, Richard, that you had better go." 
 
 Mr. Hodgman sprang to his feet, and, coming 
 over to Grace, took her hand. He knew that his 
 battle was won. "I thank you, Mrs. Duvall," 
 he said, "on Mr. Stapleton s account, as well as 
 on my own. He will appreciate deeply what you 
 have done, the sacrifice you are making, and he
 
 18 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 will not forget it." He looked again at his watch 
 nervously, the anxiety he felt clearly evident in 
 his every movement. "We had best start at once, 
 Mr. Duvall." 
 
 Duvall rose. "I will join you in a short while, 
 Mr. Hodgman. I wish to say a few words to 
 my wife." He took Grace s arm and drew her 
 within the house, leaving Mr. Hodgman pacing 
 nervously up and down the veranda. 
 
 The conference between Grace and her hus 
 band was short. Each realized the distress which 
 tore at the other s heart, as well as the dangers 
 he would in all probability be called upon to face; 
 yet they met the situation calmly. "You will not 
 be gone long," she told him. "I can manage very 
 well" 
 
 "I know you can, dear," he said, pressing her 
 to him. "I m not worried about the place. You 
 can run that as well as I can. It s you, I m 
 worried about leaving you" 
 
 "I ll be all right," she assured him, in spite of 
 her tears. "I have Aunt Lucy, and old Uncle Abe, 
 and Rose, and Jennie. I won t be so very lonely. 
 And you will be very careful and and come 
 back soon won t you?" 
 
 "Of course, dear. Very soon. Now I d better 
 get a few things together."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 19 
 
 Fifteen minutes later Grace Duvall stood on 
 the steps of the veranda, watching the flying auto 
 mobile as it rapidly became a little red blur in 
 the distant road. It was nearly dark. The frogs 
 in the patch of marsh in the meadow were piping 
 dismally. She shivered, and a great sense of 
 desolation came over her. She sank into a chair 
 and wept, while Don, inserting his long white 
 muzzle between her hands, strove to lick away 
 her tears. 
 
 She heard Aunt Lucy, the old negro cook, sing 
 ing away at her work in the kitchen, accompanied 
 by Uncle Abe, who occupied a bench on the back 
 porch. Everything seemed strangely peaceful, 
 and lonely, too, now that Richard had gone. She 
 patted the eager head of the collie. "We ll have 
 to make the best of it, Don," she said, and rose 
 to enter the house. 
 
 Suddenly far down the road she heard the 
 chugging of an automobile. They were not fre 
 quent visitors, upon this country road. Could it 
 be Richard, she wondered, returning for some 
 thing he had forgotten? 
 
 She stood, straining her eyes into the dusk, 
 waiting, while with one hand she restrained the 
 eager dog. 
 
 Presently she saw that the machine was not a
 
 20 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 red one. It was not Richard. She was about to 
 enter the house, when she realized that the rap 
 idly moving car had entered the grounds. She 
 turned on the lights in the hallway and stood, 
 waiting, the dog at her side bristling with anger. 
 
 In a moment the automobile had stopped, and 
 almost before she realized it, a small, foreign- 
 looking man stood on the doorstep before her. 
 "Madame Duvall?" he inquired, quickly, in a 
 voice which showed plainly his nationality. 
 
 "Yes," she replied. 
 
 "Your husband! May I see him?" 
 
 "He is not at home." 
 
 The newcomer seemed greatly disturbed. 
 "Then I fear, Madame, that I shall be obliged 
 to wait until he returns." 
 
 "He will not return. He has gone away for 
 sometime." 
 
 "Ah! That is indeed a calamity!" The man s 
 face showed the keenest disappointment. "May I 
 ask where I can find him?" 
 
 "It will be quite impossible." Grace had no 
 intention of telling her visitor where her husband 
 had gone. She knew too well the intricacies of 
 his profession, for that. "You cannot find him." 
 She made as though to close the door, and thereby 
 terminate the interview.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 21 
 
 The newcomer realized her intention. Slowly 
 he raised his hand, in the palm of which showed 
 the seal of a ring, turned inward. It was of 
 silver, with curious figures worked into it in gold. 
 The man glanced from the ring to Grace, eying 
 her steadily. "I think, Madame," he said, with 
 a meaning smile, "that you can trust me." 
 
 Grace recognized the ring at once. It was 
 similar to one she herself had worn, while en 
 gaged in the memorable search for the ivory snuff 
 box for Monsieur Lefevre, Prefect of Police 
 of Paris. Dear old Lefevre the friend of 
 Richard s, and of her own! This man who 
 stood before her must be a messenger from 
 him. 
 
 "Come in, please," she said, quietly, and led 
 the way to the library. 
 
 The man followed her, calling out a few words 
 to his chauffeur as he did so. No sooner had 
 they reached the great book-lined room, than he 
 drew from his pocket a sealed envelope. 
 
 "Madame Duvall," he said, earnestly, "Mon 
 sieur Lefevre has cabled to his representatives in 
 Washington a message. That message is con 
 tained in this envelope. I have instructions to 
 deliver it to your husband immediately. In case 
 I could not find him, I am to hand it to you.
 
 22 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Permit, me, Madame." With a bow, he placed 
 the message in her hand. 
 
 Grace took the envelope, broke the heavy seal 
 which it bore, and drawing out a slip of paper, 
 hastily read the contents. The message was from 
 Monsieur Lefevre. It said: 
 
 My dear Duvall: 
 
 You promised, on the occasion of our last meet 
 ing, to come to me should I ever need you. I 
 need you badly, my friend. Come at once, both 
 you, and your dear wife. LEFEVRE. 
 
 Grace looked up at the man before her, the 
 letter crumpled in her hand. Here was a mes 
 sage the urgency of which could not be denied. 
 She knew that, had Richard been at home, he 
 would have gone to Paris at once in response to 
 it; for it was to Monsieur Lefevre that they in 
 reality owed all their happiness. She recalled 
 vividly their wedding, with the lovable old 
 Frenchman, acting as her father for the occasion, 
 giving away the bride. She remembered the fare 
 well dinner at the Prefect s house, and the beauti 
 ful gift he had given her on that occasion. Evi 
 dently Monsieur Lefevre desired Richard s pres 
 ence very greatly, and her own as well. The
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 23 
 
 thought suddenly came to her why not go to 
 him? 
 
 True, Richard had left her in charge of things 
 at home; but she knew that, for a reasonable 
 time, at least, they would go on smoothly enough 
 without her. Hendricks, the overseer, was a 
 capable and honest man, devoted to her and to 
 her husband. 
 
 She could safely leave matters in his charge. 
 Then, too, the thought of surprising Richard on 
 the steamer sailing the next day appealed to her 
 sense of mischief. How astounded he would be, 
 to find her strolling along the deck! And how 
 delighted, too ! She wondered that the thought 
 of accompanying him had not occurred to her 
 more strongly before. She turned to the man, 
 who stood watching her narrowly. 
 
 "You know the contents of this message?" 
 
 "Yes, Madame," he bowed. "It came to us by 
 cable in cipher." 
 
 "There is a train for New York at midnight, 
 and a steamer tomorrow morning." 
 
 "Yes, Madame." 
 
 "Can you drive me to Washington in your 
 car?" 
 
 "I shall be delighted, Madame." The fellow s 
 eyes sparkled with satisfaction.
 
 24 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Very well. Mr. Duvall is in New York. I 
 will take the message to him. Wait here, please, 
 until I get some clothes together and give some 
 orders to my servants." 
 
 In half an hour, the thing was done. Hend- 
 ricks, the overseer, had been given full instruc 
 tions regarding taking charge of the place, with 
 provision for his needs in the way of money, etc., 
 and by ten o clock, at which time the New York 
 sleeper was open, Grace was at the station, pur 
 chasing her ticket. 
 
 The obliging Frenchman gave her every assist 
 ance, and bade her bon voyage smilingly as he 
 helped her aboard the train. She retired at once, 
 and lay in her berth, reading a magazine, and 
 picturing to herself Richard s mingled astonish 
 ment and joy at their meeting in the morning. 
 This time, she was determined that their honey 
 moon should not be interrupted. 
 
 After a time, she fell asleep, and dreamed that 
 she and Richard were sailing gaily toward Paris, 
 in a large red touring car. 
 
 In the morning, she ate a hasty breakfast in 
 the railway station, and took a taxicab for the 
 steamship offices. By great good fortune, she 
 was able to secure a cabin. Then she hastily 
 visited a banking house where she was well
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 23 
 
 known, provided herself with funds, and drove to 
 the dock. 
 
 It wanted but half an hour till sailing time. 
 Grace hastened to her stateroom, and busied her 
 self in effacing the stains of her night of travel. 
 She was determined to meet Richard looking her 
 best. 
 
 It was not until the big steamer was passing 
 through the Narrows that she came on deck, and 
 began looking about for her husband. In all that 
 crowd, she knew it would take time to find him. 
 After searching for an hour, she felt somewhat 
 surprised at not seeing him. After another hour 
 had passed, her surprise turned to alarm. A 
 hasty visit to the purser, and an examination of 
 the sailing list, showed her the astonishing truth. 
 Richard was not on board!
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 RICHARD DUVALL arrived in New York 
 at half past one o clock Thursday morn 
 ing. Hodgman, Mr. Stapleton s secre 
 tary, had wired ahead the news of their coming, 
 and the banker s limousine awaited them at the 
 railway station. Fifteen minutes later they were 
 ascending the steps of Mr. Stapleton s residence 
 on Fifth Avenue. 
 
 Duvall had not been to the house before. His 
 previous interviews with the banker had taken 
 place at the latter s office, in Broad Street. He 
 had no time now, however, to observe the luxury 
 of his surroundings. Mr. Hodgman hurried him 
 at once to the library, and in a few moments Mr. 
 Stapleton had joined them. 
 
 He greeted Duvall with a nervous handshake, 
 and thanked him for his prompt coming. He 
 was clearly laboring under an intense mental 
 strain. 
 
 "Mr. Hodgman has explained my reasons for 
 sending for you, Mr. Duvall?" he inquired, sink 
 ing into a great leather-covered chair. 
 
 26
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 27 
 
 "Yes." Duvall nodded. 
 
 "Then you can appreciate my feelings." He 
 sat in silence for several moments, looking gloom 
 ily at the floor. 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "The devils! I wouldn t care if they were 
 to steal my property money, securities, any 
 thing like that. I can fight them on that basis. 
 But my child! Don t you see why your coming 
 was of the utmost importance to me? I don t 
 dare move against these rascals openly. If I do, 
 they will threaten to retaliate by injuring my 
 boy, and I am powerless. Whatever I do, must 
 be done secretly. No one must know that you 
 are in my employ. No one must know your object 
 in going to Paris. You see that?" 
 
 "Most certainly. These fellows cannot hold 
 you responsible for any moves the police authori 
 ties of Paris may make; over them you of course 
 have no control. But if you make any efforts on 
 your own account, any independent efforts, to 
 recover your boy, they must by all means be 
 made in secret." 
 
 "Exactly. You understand, then, what you are 
 to do?" 
 
 "Yes. But first I must ask you, Mr. Staple- 
 ton, to give me some account of the affair. Mr.
 
 28 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Hodgman has told me only that your son has 
 been kidnapped. No doubt you have learned by 
 this time how the thing was done." 
 
 "What I have learned, Mr. Duvall, convinces 
 me of the importance of being on the ground at 
 once. The affair, as cabled to me by my wife, is 
 preposterous absurd!" He again gazed at the 
 floor in gloomy preoccupation. 
 
 "How so?" the detective inquired. 
 
 "I will tell you. My boy, who, as you know, is 
 six years old, has been in the habit of driving, each 
 morning, accompanied by his nurse, from my house 
 in the Avenue Kleber, to the Bois de Boulogne. 
 On arriving in the Bois, it has been their habit 
 to leave the automobile in which they came, and 
 spend an hour or more walking and playing on 
 the grass. I have insisted on this, because the 
 boy needs exercise, and he cannot get it driving 
 about in a motor car." 
 
 "During this hour what becomes of the car?" 
 asked Duvall. 
 
 "Our orders have been, of course, for the 
 chauffeur to wait, within sight and call. I believe 
 he has done so." 
 
 "Thank you. Go ahead." 
 
 "On Wednesday the nurse took Jack the 
 boy s name is Jack to the Bois as usual. She
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 29 
 
 played about with him on the grass for probably 
 an hour. Then she sat down to rest. Jack was 
 standing near her, playing with a rubber ball. 
 She says and, gentlemen, my wife cables me that 
 she solemnly swears to the truth of hel^rtatements 
 that she turned away for a moment to observe 
 passing vehicles in the road turned back again 
 to the child and found that he was gone." 
 
 "Gone but how?" 
 
 "How? That s the question. Here is this 
 woman, sitting on the grass, with the child, a 
 hundred yards from the road, in the middle of a 
 large field of grass a lawn. No one is within 
 sight. The nearest person, it appears from her 
 testimony, is the chauffeur, three hundred feet 
 away, in the road. The woman turns her head 
 for a moment, looks about and the boy is gone. 
 That is the story she tells, and which my wife 
 has cabled to me. Do you wonder that I call it 
 preposterous?" 
 
 "Hardly," remarked Duvall, with a grim smile. 
 "The boy could not have vanished into thin air. 
 The woman must be lying." 
 
 "That, Mr. Duvall, is what I cannot under 
 stand. I cannot believe that the woman is lying. 
 My wife cannot believe it. She has been in our 
 employ ever since the boy was born, and is de-
 
 30 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 voted to him. Mrs. Stapleton cables that she is 
 completely prostrated." 
 
 "But, Mr. Stapleton, you can hardly believe 
 such a story! How could the child have been 
 stolen, if her story is true? It is, as you say, pre 
 posterous." 
 
 "I do not say that the story is true, Mr. Du- 
 vall. I say that I do not think that Mary is 
 lying. She is telling what she believes to be the 
 truth. She turned her head for a moment the 
 boy was gone. That is what she says, and I be 
 lieve her. The question is how is it possible?" 
 
 "It isn t," Hodgman grunted. 
 
 "Everything is possible, Hodgman," said the 
 banker, reprovingly. "The best proof of that, 
 in this case, is that it has happened. What means 
 were used, I cannot imagine; but the apparently 
 impossible has happened. The boy is gone!" 
 
 "Is the nurse a young woman?" the detective 
 inquired. 
 
 "About thirty, I should say." 
 
 "An American?" 
 
 "Yes. Of Irish parentage. Her name is Lana- 
 han Mary Lanahan." 
 
 "A New Yorker?" 
 
 "She comes from Paterson, New Jersey. Her 
 people live there."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 31 
 
 "Are there any other details any other points 
 of interest?" 
 
 "None, so far as I know. What I have told 
 you, is what has been cabled to me by Mrs. Staple- 
 ton. She is naturally in a more or less hysterical 
 condition. Nothing can be accomplished here. 
 I want you to leave by today s steamer. I myself, 
 I regret to say, cannot go until Saturday." He 
 passed his hand nervously across his forehead. 
 "Only matters of the most vital importance could 
 keep me here at such a time, Mr. Duvall; but, 
 unfortunately, such matters confront me now." 
 
 "Have you any reason to believe, Mr. Staple- 
 ton," Duvall inquired, "that the kidnapping is the 
 act of persons from this side of the water? Have 
 any such attempts been made in the past?" 
 
 Mr. Stapleton remained silent for sometime, 
 buried in thought. Presently he spoke. "I am 
 a rich man, Mr. Duvall a very rich man. Men 
 in my position are constantly in receipt of letters 
 of a threatening nature. I have received many 
 such letters, in the past." 
 
 "Was the matter of the child mentioned in 
 any of them? Were threats made involving 
 him?" 
 
 "There was one such letter." 
 
 "When did you receive it?"
 
 32 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Last fall perhaps six months ago." 
 
 "Have you the letter now?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "May I see it?" 
 
 The banker rose, went to a heavy rosewood 
 desk at one side of the room, drew open one of 
 its drawers, and removed a steel despatch box. 
 He opened it with a slender key and took out a 
 package of letters. From these, after some hesi 
 tation, he selected one and silently handed it to 
 Duvall. 
 
 The detective examined the letter carefully. 
 It was enclosed in a cheap white envelope, such 
 as are sold at all post offices, having the stamp 
 printed on it. The letter itself was roughly 
 printed in ink on a sheet of ruled paper evidently 
 torn from an ordinary five-cent pad. It said: 
 
 "We demand fifty thousand dollars, to be 
 placed in thousand-dollar bills inside a cigar box 
 and expressed to John Smith, c/o Express Com 
 pany, Paterson, N. J., next Monday afternoon. 
 The man who will call for the package on Tues 
 day will know nothing about the matter, and if 
 you arrest him, you will find out nothing. Keep 
 this to yourself and do as we say, if you value 
 the safety of your child."
 
 BLUE LIGHTS 33 
 
 There was no signature to the letter. Duvall 
 read it through with great care, then turned to 
 Mr. Stapleton. 
 
 "You have observed, I suppose, that the place 
 to which the money was to be sent, Paterson, New 
 Jersey, is the home of your child s nurse, Mary 
 Lanahan." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton started. "I confess," he said 
 "that, in the agitated state of mind into which this 
 affair has thrown me, I had completely over 
 looked the coincidence. What do you infer from 
 it?" 
 
 "Only this, Mr. Stapleton, that Mary Lanahan 
 may know more about this matter than she is 
 willing to let on. I must keep this letter for the 
 present" 
 
 "Very well." The banker nodded. "It may 
 prove a valuable clue." 
 
 "Possibly. And further, Mr. Stapleton, I shall 
 not sail by today s steamer." 
 
 "But why not?" Stapleton sat up in his chair 
 in surprise. "You will lose two days." 
 
 "I do not think they will be lost. I must make 
 some investigations in Paterson, before I leave 
 here. Please give me, if you can, the address of 
 Mary Lanahan s parents." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton frowned. "I am not sure that
 
 34 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 I can do so, Mr. Duvall. My wife has charge 
 of these matters. But I recollect having heard 
 that her father, Patrick Lanahan, is a florist in 
 a small way, and no doubt you can readily locate 
 him. But I fear you will be losing valuable 
 time." 
 
 Duvall rose. "I feel, as you do, Mr. Staple- 
 ton, that I should be in Paris at the earliest pos 
 sible moment; but I think you will agree with me 
 that some investigations on this side before I go 
 are absolutely necessary, and may prove of in 
 estimable value afterwards." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton was silent for several minutes. 
 Presently he raised his head. "Under the cir 
 cumstances, Mr. Duvall, I am forced to admit 
 the truth of what you say. Conduct your investi 
 gations as quickly as possible, however; for we 
 must positively sail by Saturday s boat." 
 
 "I shall be ready then." Duvall took up his 
 hat. "Now I think I had better get a few hours 
 sleep, and in the morning I will make an early 
 start for Paterson." He bowed to the banker 
 and Mr. Hodgman. "Good night, gentlemen. I 
 shall see you both on Saturday morning. The 
 steamer sails shortly after noon, I believe. Sup 
 pose I come here at ten o clock, and let you know 
 what I have learned?"
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 35 
 
 Mr. Stapleton rose. "If I receive any further 
 news of importance from Paris, Mr. Duvall, I 
 will advise you at your hotel. Where are you 
 stopping?" 
 
 Duvall gave the name of a Times Square hotel 
 at which he usually stopped, and with a quick 
 "good night" left the house. 
 
 It was shortly after nine o clock the next morn 
 ing when he descended from the train at Paterson, 
 and going to a nearby drug store, consulted the 
 directory for the address of Patrick Lanahan. 
 He found it without difficulty, and, by means of 
 an electric car, was soon before the florist s door. 
 
 The place was situated on the outskirts of the 
 town, and consisted of a small, rather mean-look 
 ing cottage, from which spread out on each side, 
 like the two wings of an aeroplane, the long glass 
 greenhouses. 
 
 A little gate opened to a short brick path, lead 
 ing to the front door of the house. 
 
 Duvall went up the path and rang the door 
 bell. A wholesome-looking Irish woman, of per 
 haps fifty, opened the door, and, in response to 
 his questions, told him that her husband, Patrick, 
 was out in the garden at the rear of the house, 
 busy with his plants. 
 
 She directed the detective along a narrow area-
 
 36 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 way at the side of the house, and in a moment re 
 appeared at the back door. 
 
 "Pat," she called. "Oh, Pat! Here s a gen 
 tleman to see you." 
 
 A short, heavy-set man, with gray hair and 
 mustache and a ruddy and weatherbeaten face, 
 arose from among a litter of flower pots and 
 bulbs. 
 
 "What can I do for you, sir?" he asked, com 
 ing forward and wiping his hands upon his over 
 alls. 
 
 The detective studied the man before him in 
 tently. The honest and clear-looking eyes told 
 him nothing that was not favorable. 
 
 "I came to ask you a few questions, Mr. Lana- 
 han." 
 
 "Questions, is it? About what?" The blue 
 eyes showed a sudden flare of suspicion. 
 
 "About yourself, and your family." 
 
 "Who may you be, then? Is it the tax man?" 
 
 Duvall smiled. "Not the tax man," he said. 
 "I represent a firm of lawers in Washington. My 
 name is Johnson." 
 
 Lanahan, still suspicious, pointed to a couple 
 of kitchen chairs that stood on the brick-paved 
 yard beneath a trellis covered with hop vines. 
 "Sit down, sir. I ll have a smoke, if you don t
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 37 
 
 mind." He began to fill his short clay pipe. 
 "What would lawyers in Washington be wantin 
 with me?" 
 
 "That is what I wish to find out, Mr. Lana- 
 han. We my firm have been advised that a 
 certain Michael Lanahan, of Dublin, recently 
 died, leaving a large estate. We are trying to 
 find his heirs. Tell me something about yourself 
 and your family." 
 
 The look of suspicion and reserve which the 
 old man had up to this time shown faded from 
 his face, and was replaced by a smile of incredu 
 lity. "Money, Is it?" he laughed. "Mary that s 
 my wife has been seein bubbles in her tay for 
 the week past. What is it you would know?" 
 
 "Are you from Dublin?" 
 
 "Me father was. I was born right here in 
 Jersey, meself." 
 
 "What was his name?" 
 
 "Patrick, the same as me own. But he had a 
 brother, Mike." 
 
 , "Ah. It may be the same." Duvall pretended 
 a sudden interest. "His business?" 
 
 "Mike s? Faith I never heard he had any, 
 lest it was drinkin all the good liquor he could 
 lay his hands on." 
 
 Duvall pretended to make a series of entries
 
 38 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 in his notebook. "Now about yourself, Mr. 
 Lanahan. Have you any children? Of course, 
 should there be any money coming to you, they 
 would share in it." 
 
 "Children, is it? I have two." 
 
 "Boys?" 
 
 "One is a boy a man be now, I should say. 
 He s in the city workin . His name is Barney." 
 
 "What does he do?" 
 
 Lanahan looked up with a quick frown. "The 
 last I heard tell, he was tendin bar, Mr. Johnson 
 over at Callahan s saloon, on the Bowery. He s 
 wild wild like me uncle Mike, I should say." 
 
 "And the other?" 
 
 The old man s face took on a contented look. 
 "The other is me daughter Mary, bless her. She s 
 nurse in the family of old man Stapleton, the mil 
 lionaire." 
 
 Duvall closed his book. "I see," he remarked, 
 pleasantly. "She s not married, I suppose?" 
 
 "Mary?" Divil a bit! For a time, she was 
 sweet on a French chuffer that worked for Mr. 
 Stapleton; but the fellow s gone, now, and she s 
 clane forgot him. That was near a year ago." 
 
 "Ah, yes. Do you happen to remember his 
 name?" 
 
 "Alphonse, it was Alphonse Valentin, or some
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 39 
 
 such joke of a name. A comic valentine he was, 
 too, with his dinky little mustache and his cigar 
 ettes." He laughed loudly. "Imagine my Mary, 
 married to a gink like that!" 
 
 Duvall replaced his notebook in his pocket 
 and rose. "I m mightily obliged to you, Mr. 
 Lanahan. We will advise you at once, if our in 
 vestigations show that you are related to the 
 Michael Lanahan whose fortune is in our hands. 
 I m obliged to you for your courtesy." 
 
 The florist nodded. "You re welcome, sir. I 
 guess them Lanahan s must be a different breed. 
 I never heard tell of any of my people makin 
 any fortune. Good day, sir." He turned to his 
 work, chuckling. 
 
 Duvall rode back to the station, and took the 
 first train for New York. It was clear that Mary 
 Lanahan s parents had nothing in common with 
 blackmailers and kidnappers. Their honesty was 
 as evident as the blueness of their eyes, or the 
 redness of their hair. But the information about 
 Alphonse Valentin, the chauffeur, and Barney, 
 Mr. Lanahan s son, seemed more promising. 
 
 It was close to one o clock when Duvall arrived 
 at Callahan s saloon, on the Bowery, near Canal 
 Street. Here a disappointment awaited him. 
 Barney Lanahan had thrown up his job and left
 
 40 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 two months before. Callahan had no idea where 
 he had gone. He had not been about the place 
 since. A negro porter volunteered the informa 
 tion that he had seen the man entering the Broad 
 way saloon of an ex-prizefighter some weeks be 
 fore; but, beyond that, Duvall could learn nothing. 
 |~y*After a hasty luncheon he went to his office 
 on Union Square, where his unexpected appear 
 ance caused his assistants unlimited surprise. He 
 directed them to locate Barney Lanahan at the 
 earliest possible moment. He then called up Mr. 
 Stapleton s secretary, Mr. Hodgman, and in 
 quired about the chauffeur. 
 
 Mr. Hodgman informed him that the banker 
 had employed Valentin in Paris some eighteen 
 months previous, and had brought him to this 
 country, where he had remained in his employ 
 for about six months. He had been discharged, 
 through some dishonesty in the matter of pur 
 chasing supplies, and nothing further had been 
 seen or heard of him. 
 
 Duvall, on receiving this information, pro 
 ceeded at once to the office of the French line, 
 and asked permission to inspect their passenger 
 lists for the past year. He concluded that if 
 .Valentin had anything to do with the kidnapping 
 of Mr. Stapleton s boy, he was, in all probability,
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 41 
 
 in Paris, and, if so, would almost certainly have 
 crossed by this line. He was therefore not at all 
 surprised to find the name of Alphonse Valentin 
 among those sailing during the preceding March. 
 
 There was little more that he could accomplish, 
 now, beyond writing a long letter to Grace, whom 
 he naturally supposed to be patiently awaiting his 
 return in the country. He had a short interview 
 with Mr. Hodgman in the evening, and was lucky 
 enough to secure a photograph of Alphonse Val 
 entin, the chauffeur, taken at the steering wheel 
 of his machine. The car had, it seemed, been 
 photographed, along with a party of guests, by 
 a friend of Mr. Stapleton s with a leaning toward 
 amateur photography. Duvall placed the photo 
 graph among his belongings with a smile of sat 
 isfaction. He felt that his delay had been by no 
 means unprofitable. 
 
 One other step he took, before leaving. Ac 
 companied by Mr. Hodgman, he made a careful 
 inspection of the room which had been occupied 
 by the nurse, Mary Lanahan, at the Stapleton 
 house. .The results were distressingly meager. 
 All the woman s belongings she had evidently 
 taken with her, on going abroad. There appeared 
 to be nothing which would afford the slightest 
 clue to her character or habits.
 
 42 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Mr. Hodgman turned to the door with an im 
 patient frown. "Nothing here," he growled, and 
 was about to leave the room. 
 
 "Nothing much," said Duvall, glancing care 
 lessly at the wooden edge of the bureau. "This 
 woman, Mary Lanahan, is evidently an up-to- 
 date sort of person." 
 
 Hodgman paused. "Why do you say that?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Smokes cigarettes, I see." 
 
 "That so. How do you know?" 
 
 Duvall smiled. "Too simple even to mention, 
 Mr. Hodgman. See those burns on the varnish?" 
 He pointed to a number of spots along the edge 
 of the dresser. "Always find them somewhere 
 about, where there s a cigarette smoker. He 
 gazed out of the window for a moment. "Rooms 
 tell a great deal about the personality of the peo 
 ple who have occupied them. For instance, I ve 
 never seen this Lanahan girl, but I know that she s 
 not over five feet four, that she has light hair, 
 that she reads in bed, that she writes with a stub 
 pen, and that she s a Roman Catholic. Further 
 more, she is left handed, inclined to be vain, 
 wears her hair in waves, or curls, in front, is 
 fond of the theater, and has a long narrow scar 
 on the palm of her left hand."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 43 
 
 He chuckled quietly, as he saw Mr. Hodg- 
 man s look of amazement. "All very simple 
 quite elementary, in fact. I won t even bother to 
 tell you how I know just little things here and 
 there about the room. Here s one of them," he 
 said, as he picked up a rusty pen point from the 
 desk. "That shows she uses a stub, of course; 
 but the way the point is worn also proves that 
 she s left handed. And here s another." He 
 pointed to the electric bulb which hung over the 
 head of the bed. "Nobody would use that light, 
 except to read by in bed. The others in the room 
 are more than sufficient for purposes of illumina 
 tion. Yet the lamp has been used continuously, as 
 its condition shows. See how blackened the glass 
 is and notice also how the white enamel of the 
 back of the bed is worn off, just under the lamp. 
 That s from propping a pillow against it, night 
 after night." He turned toward the door. "Of 
 course, those things aren t of any value, probably, 
 in this case; but I can t help noticing them. Force 
 of habit, I suppose." 
 
 When Duvall arrived at the Stapleton house 
 on Saturday morning, he found the banker some 
 what disturbed by a cablegram he had just re 
 ceived. "Mary claims attempts made to poison 
 her. Will recover. Come at once," it read.
 
 44 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 The detective appeared to be somewhat aston 
 ished, on reading the cablegram. "Looks as 
 though somebody was afraid she might be going 
 to talk," he remarked. "The sooner we arrive 
 in Paris, now, the better."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 GRACE DUVALL S first inclination, on 
 finding herself en route for Europe, with 
 out her husband, was to send him a wire 
 less, advising him of her movements. Then she 
 decided, for several reasons, not to do so. Chief 
 among these was the fear that such a startling 
 piece of news would be likely to cause him a 
 great deal of unnecessary anxiety. She knew that 
 she could never hope to explain matters, within 
 the limits of a marconigram. And then, too, it 
 was highly inadvisable, she knew, to mention in 
 a wireless message the real reason which had 
 caused her to leave home. 
 
 So she decided to make the best of the matter, 
 realizing that within a few days, she would see 
 Richard in Paris, and explain everything to his 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Immediately on reaching Paris, she drove to 
 the office of the Prefect of Police, and sent in her 
 card to Monsieur Lefevre. She thought it pos 
 sible that he would expect her, as his agent in 
 
 45
 
 46 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Washington would no doubt have communicated 
 with him. Nor was she mistaken. 
 
 He rushed into the anteroom as soon as he 
 received her card, and embraced her with true 
 Gallic fervor, kissing her on both cheeks until 
 she blushed. Then he drew her into his private 
 office. 
 
 "Where is your husband?" he asked, eagerly, 
 as soon as Grace was seated. 
 
 "I I do not know. Probably on his way to 
 Paris." 
 
 "But my dear child! Did he not then come 
 with you?" 
 
 "No. He he had other business." 
 
 "Other business ! But I understood that he had 
 temporarily retired." The Prefect seemed greatly 
 astonished. 
 
 "So he had; but an old friend, Mr. Staple- 
 ton" 
 
 Lefevre did not allow her to finish. "Staple- 
 ton!" he fairly shouted. "He is employed by 
 him? MonDieu!" 
 
 "Why not?" asked Grace in surprise. 
 
 "But it was for that very case that I desired 
 his assistance. And by this Stapleton, who cables 
 that the whole police force of Paris are a lot of 
 jumping jacks! Sacre! It is insufferable!"
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 47 
 
 "You wanted my husband for the same case?" 
 
 "Assuredly! What else? The child of this 
 pig of a millionaire is stolen what you call kid 
 napped! We have been unable to find the slight 
 est clue. I am in despair. My men assure me 
 that it is the work of an American gang. I con 
 ceive the hope that Monsieur Duvall may know 
 these men that he may be in possession of in 
 formation that will lead to their capture. This 
 rich American, he has spoken with contempt of 
 the Paris police. The efficiency of my office is 
 questioned. My honor is at stake. I send for 
 my friend Duvall, to assist me, and sacre! I 
 find him already working for this man who has 
 insulted me. It is monstrous!" 
 
 Grace could scarcely repress a smile. Flow 
 excessively French the Prefect was, after all. 
 "My husband did not know, when he agreed to 
 take the case for Mr. Stapleton, that you wanted 
 him. He does not know it now. Pie has not yet 
 received your message." 
 
 "Then he does not know that you are in 
 Paris?" 
 
 "No. I thought he would be crossing on the 
 same boat. When I found that he wasn t, my 
 first thought was to send him a wireless. Then 
 I realized that I couldn t do so, without saying
 
 48 
 
 something about the business that had called me 
 to Paris without, in fact, mentioning you. I 
 feared to do this for there are so many people 
 nowadays tapping the wireless. I thought it bet 
 ter to keep the matter a secret." 
 
 "And you did quite right. I wanted your hus 
 band to take up this case, quite independently, 
 and without it being known to anyone that he 
 was in my employ." He paused for a moment 
 in deep thought. "No doubt his employment by 
 Mr. Stapleton is to be kept equally secret." 
 
 "I suppose so. He asked me not to say any 
 thing about it. I had to tell you, to explain mat 
 ters." 
 
 "And he doesn t know that you are in Paris?" 
 The Prefect gave -a sudden laugh. "Ma foi! 
 what a joke!" 
 
 "A joke?" 
 
 "Assuredly! Don t you see? I am going to 
 ask you to take up this case, yourself. I must 
 use every means to recover the child of this Staple- 
 ton, before others do so for him. My profes 
 sional pride will not permit me to be beaten. If 
 I can t have your husband, at least I shall have 
 you." 
 
 "But I shall be working in opposition to him." 
 
 "Not in opposition. You will both have the
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 49 
 
 same object in view the recovery of Mr. Staple- 
 ton s boy. Whichever of you does so first, the 
 result will be the same the boy will be restored 
 to his parents. But I want you, my child, to be 
 the one to do this." 
 
 "But, Monsieur Lefevre, I could not hope to 
 accomplish anything where trained men have 
 failed." 
 
 "Who knows? I remember well the assistance 
 you gave us, in the matter of the ivory snuff box. 
 Without your help, we should never have recov 
 ered it. I have faith in a woman s intuition. You 
 will find this child for me, and give your husband 
 the surprise of his life." 
 
 "But," said Grace, smiling mischievously at the 
 prospect which opened before her, "suppose he 
 should see me?" 
 
 "You must disguise yourself somewhat. Change 
 the color of your hair; it is easily done here in 
 Paris." The Prefect laughed. "A slight altera 
 tion in appearance only will be necessary. And 
 do not recognize your husband, should you meet 
 him face to face. That is most important." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because, should he become convinced that it 
 is really you, I fear he would insist upon your 
 dropping the case entirely, and that would not
 
 50 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 suit my plans at all. Come, my child." The Pre 
 fect s eyes twinkled with amusement "Do this 
 thing for me. It will be a little joke, between us. 
 The honeymoon detectives, I called you, once. 
 What an amusing thing, that now you should be 
 working in competition with each other, on the 
 same case!" He began to laugh heartily. 
 
 "Well," said Grace, her sense of mischief get 
 ting the better of her, "now that I m here, I sup 
 pose I might as well keep busy. Richard won t 
 be here for two days, and I may find out some 
 thing in that time." 
 
 "Excellent!" The Prefect clapped his hand 
 smartly upon his knee. "You have two days 
 start. In two days, much may be accomplished. 
 Come, let us go over the case in detail." 
 
 An hour later, Grace left the Prefect s office 
 in a taxicab, having arranged to have her baggage 
 sent to Monsieur Lefevre s house, where she was 
 to stay while in Paris. Her previous acquaintance 
 with Madame Lefevre made this an ideal ar 
 rangement. She was to pose as a friend, in Paris 
 on a visit. 
 
 She ordered the driver of the taxicab to take 
 her to Mr. Stapleton s house in the Avenue 
 Kleber. 
 
 She found Mrs. Stapleton to be a very pretty
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 51 
 
 and stylish woman of thirty; whose beauty, how 
 ever, was sadly marred by the intense suffering 
 through which she was passing. The poor crea 
 ture had scarcely slept for over a week, and her 
 distress was pitiable. 
 
 She answered Grace s questions as well as she 
 could, under the circumstances. There was, after 
 all, little to say. The nurse, it appeared, stuck to 
 her story that the boy had vanished, in the 
 twinkling of an eye, while her back had been 
 turned for but a few moments. Mrs. Stapleton 
 could offer no explanation attempted none. 
 
 "It is all so mysterious so terrible!" she cried. 
 "Poor Mary she is too ill to see you, I fear, 
 or I would have her tell you the story herself." 
 
 "Too ill?" inquired Grace, who had come more 
 to question the maid, than Mrs. Stapleton. 
 "What is the matter with her?" 
 
 "They tried to poison her last Friday." 
 
 "They? Who?" 
 
 "I do not know. She went out for a walk. 
 The poor woman was half dead, from nervous 
 exhaustion and loss of sleep. She tells me that 
 she stopped to get a cup of chocolate at a cafe 
 
 in the Rue St. Honore. After that she came 
 
 t 
 
 back to the Champs Elysees, and sat upon a bench. 
 She began suddenly to feel deathly ill, and, call-
 
 52 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 ing a cab, was driven home. When she arrived 
 here, she was unconscious, and had to be car 
 ried to her room by the servants. She has been 
 in bed ever since. I am glad to say, however, 
 that she is better, and I think she could see you, 
 by morning." 
 
 Grace left the Stapleton house, feeling some 
 what baffled. The more she heard of this curious 
 affair, the more inexplicable it seemed. She had 
 hoped to visit the scene of the kidnapping, in 
 company with the nurse, and examine the spot 
 with her own eyes. This she now realized she 
 could not do until the following day. She was 
 walking in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe, 
 revolving the affair in her mind, when a young 
 man, evidently a Frenchman, of good appearance 
 and not unpleasant face, came up beside her, 
 bowed politely, and in excellent English asked her 
 regarding Mary Lanahan. 
 
 "Miss Lanahan is she better?" he inquired. 
 
 "Who are you, monsieur?" asked Grace, sup 
 pressing her inclination to resent the man s action, 
 in her hope that she might learn something from 
 him of value. His question showed Grace at 
 once that he was acquainted with at least one 
 member of the Stapleton household. 
 
 "I am a friend of Miss Lanahan s," the man
 
 53 
 
 replied. "I hear that she is ill. I saw you enter 
 and leave the house, and I ventured to ask you 
 if she is better." 
 
 "I was told that she is. I did not see her." 
 
 A peculiar expression crossed the young man s 
 face; but Grace could not determine, so fleeting 
 was it, whether it indicated pleasure or disappoint 
 ment. 
 
 They walked along in silence for a few mo 
 ments, and had almost reached the arch, when 
 a ragged little urchin, a veritable Paris gamin, 
 came up to Grace s companion and thrust a crum 
 pled bit of paper into his hand, then darted off, 
 whistling shrilly. 
 
 The man looked after him a moment, then 
 examined the note. Whatever its contents, they 
 made a startling impression upon him. He 
 looked about, an expression of fear upon his 
 face, turned to Grace with a hurried bow, and a 
 quick good evening, and at once walked off in the 
 opposite direction at full speed, at the same time 
 fumbling in the breast pocket of his coat, as 
 though searching for something iia it. In his ef 
 forts, he dropped several papers to the street. 
 Grace watched him as he picked them hurriedly 
 up and moved off into the gathering darkness. 
 
 She fancied that one of the bits of paper had
 
 54 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 escaped his notice, and, on going back to the spot, 
 found that she was correct. A small visiting card 
 lay upon the sidewalk. She picked it up, and read 
 the name as she walked away. It was Alphonse 
 Valentin, Boulevard St. Michel. 
 
 Grace slipped the card into her pocketbook. 
 The man s name meant nothing to her she 
 fancied that he was some friend of Miss Lana- 
 han s, concerned about her condition. Yet why 
 did he not inquire for her at the house, in the 
 ordinary way? And why should the note, handed 
 to him by the street urchin, have caused him such 
 evident alarm? 
 
 She glanced at her watch, and saw that it was 
 close to seven o clock. She had intended to re 
 turn to Monsieur Lefevre s for dinner; but a 
 sudden determination to find out more about this 
 man Valentin caused her to proceed at once to a 
 hotel near the Louvre, where she ate her dinner 
 alone. 
 
 An hour later she descended from a cab at the 
 number on the Boulevard St. Michel, which was 
 inscribed upon Alphonse Valentin s card. 
 
 The place was a dingy old building, the main 
 floor of which was occupied by a dealer in cheese. 
 A narrow doorway at one side gave access to the 
 upper floors. Grace rang the bell, and waited in
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 55 
 
 some trepidation. This going about Paris at 
 night was rather an unusual experience. She 
 thought of the simple joys of her life at home, 
 and for a moment regretted that she had not 
 stayed there. The opening of the door inter 
 rupted her thoughts. 
 
 The woman who stood in the hallway regarded 
 her without particular interest, and inquired her 
 business. "I wish to see Monsieur Valentin," said 
 Grace. 
 
 "He is not in." 
 
 "Then I will wait. I must see him. He ex 
 pects me." 
 
 The woman shrugged her shoulders. "As you 
 wish, mademoiselle. Come this way." She led 
 Grace up a flight of stairs, and indicated a door 
 at the rear of the upper hall. "That is Monsieur 
 Valentin s room." Then she turned away, ap 
 parently quite indifferent as to whether Grace en 
 tered or not. 
 
 The latter placed her hand on the knob of the 
 door, and slowly pushed it open. The room was 
 dark; but the light from the rear windows ren 
 dered the objects within it faintly visible. Upon 
 the table stood a lamp. With some difficulty the 
 girl succeeded in finding a match, and lit it. 
 
 The light of the lamp disclosed a rather large
 
 56 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 room, with a small alcove in the rear, containing 
 a bed. The alcove was curtained off from the 
 main room. Grace, however, did not spend much 
 time in examining her surroundings. A photo 
 graph on the table at once attracted her attention 
 not because it represented anyone she knew, 
 but because, across the bottom of it, was inscribed, 
 in a feminine hand, "Mary Lanahan." 
 
 She had just completed her examination of the 
 photograph, when two other objects attracted her 
 attention. One was a crumpled bit of paper, 
 upon which a few words were scrawled in 
 lead-pencil. They were, "I am suspicious of 
 Francois. Watch him. The note was un 
 signed. 
 
 The third object upon the table which caught 
 Grace s attention was a box of cigarettes, open, 
 and nearly full. They were small gold-tipped 
 affairs, of the kind generally used by women, and 
 it was this peculiarity that at first attracted her 
 attention. She thought it strange, that a man 
 should use such cigarettes. She looked at the 
 box, and observed that they were of American 
 make. 
 
 Idly she took up one of the cigarettes, and held 
 it in her fingers. She read the name of the brand, 
 printed upon the paper wrapper, and was about
 
 Once inside he made without hesitation for the table, picked 
 up the box of cigarettes and thrust it into his pocket.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 57 
 
 to drop it back into the box, when she heard a 
 curious rasping noise outside one of the rear win 
 dows. It sounded as though someone were climb 
 ing the wall of the house. Instinctively she 
 shrank back and concealed herself behind one 
 of the curtains which hung before the alcove 
 door. 
 
 The rasping and scraping continued for some 
 little time, and presently Grace, peering through 
 the space between the curtains, saw a face appear 
 at one of the windows. It was a determined face, 
 heavily bearded, dark, evil looking. Its gleaming 
 eyes swept the room with cautious care, then, evi 
 dently satisfied that it was unoccupied, their 
 owner began noiselessly to raise the sash of the 
 window. 
 
 It was slow work. Several minutes passed be 
 fore the man succeeded in raising the sash suf 
 ficiently to permit him to crawl into the room. 
 Once inside, he made without hesitation for the 
 table, glanced over its contents, picked up the box 
 of cigarettes and thrust it into his pocket, and 
 then, without paying the Least attention to any 
 thing else, walked quickly to the door of the room 
 and passed out into the hall. 
 
 The girl waited for a moment, then stepped 
 into the light. As she did so, she realized that
 
 58 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 she held in her hand one of the gold-tipped cigar 
 ettes she had taken from the box. She quickly 
 thrust it into her pocketbook, and, with sudden 
 decision, left the room and descended the stairs. 
 She had an instinctive feeling that the man who 
 had stolen the cigarettes was in some way con 
 nected with the kidnapping of the Stapleton 
 child. She determined to follow him, leaving 
 the interview with Alphonse Valentin to another 
 time. 
 
 She left the house, and saw the man goin 
 down the Boulevard some fifty feet in advance of 
 her. She walked along after him, pretending to 
 be totally uninterested in her surroundings, while 
 at the same time keeping a sharp watch upon 
 him. 
 
 He seemed in somewhat of a hurry, and walked 
 briskly along, looking neither to left nor to right. 
 Grace kept as close to him as she dared, without 
 running the risk of detection. The walk was a 
 long one. When half an hour had passed, the 
 girl saw that they were entering the Champs 
 Elysees. The Seine they had long since crossed 
 by the Pont Neuf. Up the brilliantly lighted ave 
 nue they went, toward Arc de Triomphe. At the 
 corner of the Avenue Kleber, the man turned to 
 the left. Grace followed, wondering where the
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 59 
 
 chase would lead next. To her astonishment, the 
 man disappeared suddenly through a gate which 
 formed the servants entrance of one of the stately 
 houses which fronted on the avenue. She looked 
 up. It was the house of Mr. Stapleton!
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ON the day following that upon which she 
 arrived in Paris, Grace Duvall sallied 
 forth, determined to find out two things 
 first, the position occupied by Alphonse Valentin 
 in the affair of the kidnapping; secondly, the iden 
 tity of the man who had stolen the box of cigar 
 ettes from Valentin s room, and gone with them 
 to the house in the Avenue Kleber. The latter 
 incident seemed trivial enough, at first sight; yet 
 she reasoned that no one would risk arrest on the 
 score of burglary, to steal anything of such trifling 
 value, without an excellent reason. 
 
 She had a short conference with Monsieur 
 Lefevre, before she left the house, and told him 
 of the events of the previous night. The Prefect 
 seemed greatly interested. 
 
 "Could you identify the man who stole the 
 cigarettes?" he asked. 
 
 "Easily. I had a splendid view of his face." 
 
 "Then go to Mr. Stapleton s house and take a 
 
 60
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 61 
 
 look at all the servants. You may find him 
 among them." 
 
 "I had intended to do so, this morning." 
 
 The Prefect smiled. "I do not know what 
 your investigations will lead to, but they seem 
 promising. I have a dozen men working on the 
 case; yet so far they have not made the least 
 progress. Their efforts, however, are directed 
 toward finding the child. They are searching the 
 city with the utmost care. We believe that by 
 discovering the missing boy, we shall also find the 
 persons who committed the crime." 
 
 "Have you no one under suspicion?" 
 
 "No one. The nurse, Mary Lanahan, is of 
 course being closely watched; also the chauffeur, 
 Francois. My men report, however, that he gave 
 them the slip for an hour, last night. I have an 
 idea that he may prove to be the one who toolr 
 the cigarettes." 
 
 "Can you imagine any reason for his having 
 done so?" 
 
 "I confess, my child, that I cannot. It seems 
 utterly absurd; unless, indeed, there was some 
 thing else concealed in the box." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 The Prefect laughed. "I cannot imagine. But
 
 62 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 if you can identify the man, we shall no doubt find 
 out. As for the matter of Alphonse Valentin, 
 we have already had him under observation. So 
 far as we can learn, he is merely a chauffeur, out 
 of work, who seems to be somewhat in love with 
 the nurse." 
 
 "Then his actions have not been suspicious, 
 during the past week?" 
 
 "Not in the least. He has hung around the 
 Stapleton house for several days, asking for news 
 of the Lanahan woman; but that is all. We at 
 tribute his actions to a natural anxiety over her 
 illness." 
 
 Grace left the house, by no means satisfied with 
 the progress she was making. Her interview with 
 Mary Lanahan, and subsequent visit to the scene 
 of the crime, told her nothing she had not already 
 known. Her greatest disappointment, however, 
 came when she had Mrs. Stapleton bring in 
 Frangois, ostensibly to question him about his part 
 in the affair. She saw at once that he was not 
 the man who had broken into Alphonse Valentin s 
 room on the night before. This man had been 
 heavily bearded and tall. Francois was smooth 
 shaved and rather short. Mrs. Stapleton assured 
 her that none of her servants resembled in the
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 63 
 
 least her description of the burglar. She left the 
 house, greatly dissatisfied, after satisfying her 
 self that this was the case. 
 
 Her visit to the house of Alphonse Valentin 
 that afternoon was productive of no greater re 
 sults. The man was out. The woman who 
 opened the door the same one who had ad 
 mitted her the previous evening regarded her 
 with ill-concealed suspicion, and informed her 
 that she had no idea when her lodger would re 
 turn. Grace left, determined to try again the 
 following day. 
 
 Throughout the whole evening she hung about 
 the Stapleton house, hoping again to see the man 
 with the heavy beard who had disappeared within 
 the night before; but he did not put in an ap 
 pearance. Grace began to feel discouraged. 
 She thought of her lilac bushes, at home, of Aunt 
 Lucy feeding the chickens, of the dogs, the sweet 
 call cf the wood robins among the poplar trees 
 on the lawn, and half wished that she had stayed 
 at home and left to Richard the apparently hope 
 less task of finding the abductors of little Jack 
 Stapleton. 
 
 What, after all, could she hope to do, where 
 the entire police force of Paris had failed? The
 
 64 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 thing was absurd. Monsieur Lefevre had over 
 rated her abilities. She heard the sound of church 
 bells, striking the hour of ten, and decided to go 
 home and forget the whole affair until tomor 
 row. Tomorrow the day Richard must arrive ! 
 How she longed to be with him! This stupid in 
 terruption of their honeymoon seemed peculiarly 
 cruel, now that over a week had elapsed since 
 they had seen each other. She wondered if she 
 would meet him, the next day. Then she thought 
 of her changed appearance, of her hair, dyed a 
 jet black, and worn in a new and to her mind 
 unbecoming fashion, of her darkened complexion, 
 her extremely French costume, her heavy veil, 
 and laughed. If Richard did see her, here in 
 Paris, when he fully believed her to be peacefully 
 tending her flower beds at home, he would never 
 
 believe the evidence of his senses. 
 
 * 
 
 She was strolling toward the Champs Elysees, 
 lost in thought, when suddenly she heard the soft 
 throbbing of a high-powered motor car, as it 
 came up the street behind her. She turned and 
 glanced toward it; but the brilliant glare of the 
 electric headlights blinded her. She could see 
 nothing, except that the car was moving very 
 slowly.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 65 
 
 Suddenly it stopped, almost abreast of her, and 
 a tall man leaped to the sidewalk. Before she 
 had an opportunity so much as to glance in his 
 direction, he came swiftly up behind her, threw 
 his arm about her neck, and choked her into un 
 consciousness. Her last sensation was of being 
 lifted bodily into the already moving car, and 
 then the feeling of rapid motion, quickly blotted 
 out by the coming of insensibility. 
 
 When she returned to consciousness, it was 
 broad daylight. She lay upon a small wooden 
 bed, in a low-ceilinged little room, the only fur 
 niture of which was a small chest of drawers and 
 a chair. Upon this chair sat a large man, his 
 face so thoroughly hidden by a mask that his 
 features were quite unrecognizable. He was re 
 garding her with keen scrutiny. 
 
 "Oh what where am I?" she gasped. 
 
 The man hesitated for a moment, then slowly 
 spoke. "Where you are, mademoiselle, is of no 
 importance. Attend to what I have to say." 
 
 Grace made no reply. There seemed nothing 
 that she could say. She sat up and gazed at the 
 man, half dazed. Her head swam. She felt 
 that she had been drugged. 
 
 "Ten days ago," the man went on, in a cold
 
 66 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 and menacing voice, "the child of Monsieur 
 Stapleton was taken from his nurse in the Bois 
 de Boulogne. You are trying to find that child." 
 
 "But " Grace made a movement of protest. 
 
 "It is useless to deny it. Youhavebeenwatched." 
 
 Grace gasped in silence. 
 
 "I desire to send a message to the boy s father, 
 and I have chosen you to take it to him. I have 
 selected you, because to send one of my own men 
 would doubtless result in his arrest. That is why 
 you have been brought here." 
 
 "The the child is safe?" asked Grace. 
 
 "Perfectly. You shall see for yourself." He 
 motioned to the window. 
 
 Grace rose, and looked out. The view 
 comprised a bit of garden, surrounded by 
 bushes. She could see nothing beyond nothing 
 that would enable her in any way to identify 
 the place. On the tiny plat of grass in the 
 garden sat a child a little girl, playing with 
 a small black and white spaniel. Her dark hair 
 was drawn tightly beneath a pink sunbonnet. Her 
 dress, her whole appearance, was that of a peasant 
 child. 
 
 Grace turned from the window, bewildered. 
 "I see nothing," she said, "except a little girl "
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 67 
 
 "That is the child of Monsieur Stapleton," the 
 man said. "Now attend to the message." 
 
 She sat down again, wondering. 
 
 "Tell the boy s father this: He will leave his 
 house tomorrow evening, in his automobile, at 
 eight o clock. He will bring with him, in a 
 package, the sum of five hundred thousand francs 
 one hundred thousand dollars. He will have 
 with him, in the automobile, no one but himself 
 and his chauffeur. He will leave Paris by the 
 Porte de Versailles, and drive along the road to 
 Versailles at a speed of twelve miles an hour. 
 Somewhere upon that road, among the many au 
 tomobiles that will pass him, will be one, from 
 which a blue light will flash, as it approaches him. 
 It will also slow up. He will toss the package 
 of bank notes into that car, and drive on. If the 
 package contains the sum of five hundred thou 
 sand francs, he will find his child at his house, 
 upon his return. If not, or if these instructions 
 are not carried out to the letter if there is any 
 attempt made at pursuit the child will not be 
 there, and you can tell him that he will be given 
 but one more chance. After that, the boy will die." 
 
 The man in the mask made this gruesome 
 statement with the utmost coolness.
 
 68 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Grace listened, aghast at the cruelty of his 
 words, and at the same time struck by the extreme 
 ingenuity of the plan. To catch the peq^etrators 
 of the crime, under these circumstances, seemed 
 impossible. A rapidly moving automobile one 
 of a hundred. An instant s flash of a blue light 
 in passing the tossing into the car of the money 
 and it would speed away into the darkness, be 
 yond any hope of detection. Should Mr. Stapleton 
 have others in his car should he have his car 
 followed by a second, containing armed men, the 
 occupants of the kidnapper s machine would no 
 doubt refuse to give the signal, and nothing would 
 be accomplished. It would be impracticable to 
 line the road, for a possible distance of twenty 
 miles, with gendarmes, nor could their presence 
 accomplish anything, beyond putting the kidnap 
 pers on guard, and preventing the carrying out 
 of the plan. 
 
 The weakest point in the whole scheme seemed, 
 to Grace at least, the delivery of the child to Mr. 
 Stapleton, provided he paid the money demanded. 
 Just how that was to be accomplished, without 
 subjecting the person who brought the boy to 
 arrest, she did not see. A moment s reflection, 
 however, showed her that a stranger might be
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 69 
 
 employed, at any point, who for a few francs 
 would agree to take the child to the house. She 
 turned to the man before her with feelings not 
 devoid of admiration. 
 
 "How can Mr. Stapleton know that you will 
 do as you say?" 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. "That Is a 
 chance he must take. If he does not believe that 
 the child will be delivered to him, provided he 
 pays the money, he had better not pay it. But 
 if he does his part, I shall do mine and this I 
 swear by the memory of my mother!" 
 
 Grace shuddered. A wretch of this sort, talk 
 ing about the memory of his mother! "Very 
 w r ell," she said quietly, "I will take your mes 
 sage." 
 
 "Good! You will not leave here, of course, 
 until it is dark tonight. You will be blindfolded, 
 and conducted to some point in the city. From 
 there, you can make your way to Monsieur Staple- 
 ton s house." He rose, and went toward the 
 door. "Make no attempt to escape. It will be 
 useless. Any attempts on the part of the police 
 to interfere with the plan I have outlined will 
 result in nothing. Food will be sent in to you at 
 once. Good morning."
 
 70 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 It was close to ten o clock that night, as nearly 
 as Grace could judge, when she was led a con 
 siderable distance blindfolded, to a closed auto 
 mobile, and driven away. She could form no idea 
 of her whereabouts. The car continued on its 
 way, for over an hour. Once she attempted to 
 snatch the bandage from her eyes; but a hand 
 was placed upon her arm by another occupant of 
 the machine, and a low voice warned (her to 
 desist. 
 
 After an interminable ride, the car suddenly 
 stopped, and she felt the man at her side slip 
 away from her and open the door. Instantly she 
 snatched the bandage from her eyes. The man 
 had disappeared. She stepped to the sidewalk, 
 and looked about. She was standing upon a 
 brightly lighted street, which seemed somehow 
 familiar to her. The man on the box of the 
 cab glanced down at her with a look of curious 
 interest. She saw his face clearly, in the light of 
 the street. It was the heavily bearded man whom 
 she had seen take the box of cigarettes from the 
 room of Alphonse Valentin two nights before. 
 
 Grace stood with the bandage which had en 
 circled her eyes, still in one hand. Suddenly she 
 saw a dark figure uncoil itself from the rear of
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 71 
 
 the car, and drop noiselessly to the pavement as 
 the machine started off. She gave a low cry of 
 surprise. The man came up to her, a grim smile 
 upon his face. It was Alphonse Valentin.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 JOHN STAPLETON, the millionaire banker, 
 accompanied by Richard Duvall, arrived in 
 Paris early in the afternoon, and went at 
 once to the former s house in the Avenue Kleber. 
 
 Upon their arrival, Duvall waited for some 
 time, while the distressed husband and wife were 
 closeted together upstairs. At last they descended 
 to the library, and Duvall was presented to Mrs. 
 Stapleton. 
 
 The joy which her husband s arrival had caused 
 her sent a new glow of hope to her careworn 
 cheeks, and she greeted the detective most cor 
 dially. Clearly she felt that now something would 
 at last be done, to find her missing child. 
 
 Duvall s first questions related to Mary Lana- 
 han, the nurse. He was relieved to find that she 
 had quite recovered from her sudden illness. 
 
 "Will you kindly have her brought here, Mrs. 
 Stapleton?" he asked. "I would like to question 
 her." 
 
 72
 
 THE , BLUE LIGHTS 73 
 
 In a few moments the nurse appeared. She 
 was an extremely good-looking girl, smart and 
 well dressed. Duvall recognized in her frank 
 face, her clear blue eyes, the same appearance of 
 honesty which had impressed him during his in 
 terview with Patrick Lanahan, her father. 
 
 "Mary," said Mrs. Stapleton, "this is Mr. 
 Duvall. He is trying to find Jack for us. Tell 
 him your story." 
 
 The girl turned to Duvall, who had risen. "I 
 can hardly expect you to believe what I am going 
 to say, Mr. Duvall, yet I assure you that it is 
 the solemn truth." 
 
 "Go ahead, Miss Lanahan," said the detective. 
 "I am prepared to believe whatever you may 
 say." 
 
 The girl sat down, at Mrs. Stapleton s request. 
 She still was somewhat weak, from her recent ill 
 ness. 
 
 "It was a week ago last Wednesday. I left 
 the house with Master Jack at half-past ten, and 
 we drove to the Bois." 
 
 "Just a moment, please." Duvall stopped her 
 with a quick gesture. How long had you been 
 going to the Bois in this way?" 
 
 "Over six weeks."
 
 74 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "And you always left about the same time > 
 half-past ten?" 
 
 "Always." 
 
 "Who accompanied you besides the child?" 
 
 "Frangois the chauffeur." 
 
 "Always?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Duvall turned to Mrs. Stapleton. "How 
 long has this man Frangois been in your em 
 ploy?" 
 
 "A year in June." 
 
 "You have found him honest, reliable?" 
 
 "Always. Otherwise I should not have kept 
 him." 
 
 The detective turned to Mary Lanahan. "Go 
 ahead, please," he said. 
 
 "We reached the Bois shortly before eleven 
 Frangois had orders to go slowly, when Master 
 Jack was in the machine and drove about for 
 fifteen minutes. Then we stopped at the place 
 where we were in the habit of playing." 
 
 "Was it always the same place?" 
 
 "Yes. There is a smooth field of grass there, 
 and a clump of trees by the road, where the ma 
 chine always waited." 
 
 "Go on."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 75 
 
 "We left the car, and walked out over the 
 grass. Master Jack had a big rubber ball, and 
 he was kicking it along, and running after it. 
 Sometimes he would kick it to me, and I would 
 throw it back to him. We played about in that 
 way for over half an hour. Mrs. Stapleton 
 wished the boy to have the exercise." 
 
 "I see. And you generally played about in 
 the same place?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How far from the road?" 
 
 "About three hundred feet." 
 
 "And from the nearest bushes, or woods?" 
 
 "A little more than that, I should say." 
 
 "You could see Francois, in the machine, from 
 where you were?" 
 
 "Yes, I could see the machine. I could not 
 always see Francois; for sometimes he would get 
 out, and walk about, or sit under the trees and 
 smoke a cigarette." 
 
 "Do you remember noticing him, on this par 
 ticular morning?" 
 
 "Yes. I saw him sitting in the machine." 
 
 "What was he doing?" 
 
 "Reading a newspaper." 
 
 "Had he ever done that before?"
 
 76 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 The girl hesitated, as though a new idea had 
 come to her. "No I cannot remember that he 
 ever had." 
 
 "Very well. Go ahead with your story." 
 
 "Well after we had played for about half 
 an hour I got tired and sat down on the grass. 
 Master Jack still kept playing about with the ball. 
 I sat idly, looking at the sky, the road dream- 
 ing" 
 
 "About what?" interrupted the detective, sud 
 denly. 
 
 The girl colored. "About about some people 
 I know." 
 
 "Go ahead." 
 
 "I heard the boy playing, behind me. Then 
 I looked around and he was gone!" The 
 nurse made this statement in a voice so full of 
 awe that it carried conviction to her hearers. 
 Duvall felt that, whatever the real facts of the 
 disappearance of the child, this woman s story 
 was true. 
 
 "What did you do then?" 
 
 "I stood up and looked about. I thought Mas 
 ter Jack was hiding from me playing a joke on 
 me. Then I realized that there was no place that 
 he could hide. The nearest trees were too far
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 77 
 
 off. He could not have reached them. I called 
 and called. I was very much frightened." 
 
 "Frangois, who heard me, came running over 
 the grass. I asked him if he had seen Master 
 Jack. He said, no, that he had not seen any 
 one. After that we searched everywhere in the 
 woods, along the road for nearly an hour, but 
 could find nothing. Then we came home, and 
 told Mrs. Stapleton." The girl looked at her 
 employers in fright. 
 
 "What about the rubber ball?" Duvall asked, 
 suddenly. 
 
 "It it was gone." 
 
 "Then it is clear that the child must have been 
 taken away peaceably, without objection on his 
 part. Had he struggled, cried, he would have 
 dropped the ball, would he not?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "How long was your head turned from him 
 while you were dreaming?" 
 
 "About a minute." 
 
 "Not more?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "How do you estimate the time so closely?" 
 
 "I m sure it could not have been longer. A 
 minute is quite a long time."
 
 78 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "What time was it when you got back to the 
 house?" 
 
 "About about one o clock, I think." The girl 
 turned to Mrs. Stapleton for confirmation of her 
 answer. 
 
 "It was a quarter-past one," said Mrs. Staple- 
 ton, promptly. "I noted the time particularly, be 
 cause it was later than usual. Mary had orders 
 to bring Jack back for luncheon not later than 
 one." 
 
 Duvall began to make some figures on a piece 
 of paper. "You fix the time of the boy s disap 
 pearance at 11.30. You say you hunted for him 
 an hour. That would be 12.30." He looked at 
 the girl searchingly. "You arrived home at 1.15. 
 That would mean that it took 45 minutes to 
 get here." He turned to Stapleton. "Please 
 send for your chauffeur, Francois." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton rang a bell, and ordered the 
 servant who responded to send in the chauffeur. 
 Meanwhile Mary Lanahan was regarding Duvall 
 with nervous apprehension. 
 
 "We must have hunted for him longer than I 
 thought," she said, at length. 
 
 Duvall made no reply, but waited until the ar 
 rival of the chauffeur. He proved to be a short,
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 79 
 
 heavily built man, with long powerful arms, and 
 a swarthy face evidently from the south of 
 France. His countenance was stolid and emotion 
 less. He appeared the well trained servant. 
 
 Duvall addressed him at once. "How long 
 would it take you, my man, driving fast, to reach 
 this house from the spot in the Bois where Mas 
 ter Jack was lost?" 
 
 The man responded at once. "Ten minutes," 
 he said, "easily." 
 
 "What time was it when this woman," the 
 detective indicated the nurse, "called to you, on 
 discovering that the child was gone?" 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 "Have you no idea?" 
 
 "It must have been about twelve o clock. We 
 hunted for the boy till about one then came 
 home." 
 
 "The nurse says it was half-past eleven." 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. "It may 
 have been. I did not observe the time." 
 
 "What were you doing?" 
 
 "I was asleep." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton started. "Asleep?" he de 
 manded, angrily. 
 
 The man nodded. "The day was warm. I
 
 80 ^THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 had nothing to do. For a time I read the paper. 
 I must have dozed in my seat; for, the next thing 
 I knew, the nurse was calling to me, and the boy 
 was gone." 
 
 Duvall frowned. "Then you could not say 
 whether anyone else was near the nurse and the 
 boy, at the time he was kidnapped?" 
 
 "No, monsieur. I could not." 
 
 "That will do." The detective turned to Mr. 
 Stapleton. "Have your man drive us to the 
 place where all this occurred." 
 
 The banker gave the man the order, and he 
 left the room. Then Duvall turned again to 
 Mary Lanahan. 
 
 "You were taken suddenly ill one day last week. 
 Tell us about it." 
 
 The woman looked up. "It was very mysteri 
 ous, sir. I went out for a walk. At a cafe in 
 the Rue St. Honore I had a cup of chocolate." 
 
 "Alone?" asked the detective, sharply. 
 
 The woman colored. "No," she faltered. "I 
 I was with a friend." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "A a gentleman I know." She glanced fear 
 fully at Mr. Stapleton. "I I would rather not 
 give his name."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 81 
 
 "Was it Alphonse Valentin?" asked Duvall, 
 quickly. 
 
 The woman colored still more deeply. "Yes," 
 she replied, in scarcely audible tones. 
 
 The banker regarded her in surprise. "Al 
 phonse Valentin!" he cried. "The fellow I dis 
 charged last year, for dishonesty? Mr. Duvall 
 he s your man!" 
 
 "No no!" exclaimed the nurse, excitedly. 
 "He knows nothing of the matter nothing!" 
 
 "That remains to be seen," remarked Duvall, 
 slowly. "Where did you meet this fellow, Val 
 entin?" 
 
 "At the cafe in the Rue St. Honore." 
 
 "You had met him there frequently be 
 fore?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "After you left the cafe, what did you 
 do?" 
 
 ^ 
 
 "We walked to the Champs Elysees and sat 
 
 on a bench, talking. Suddenly I felt very ill. Mr. 
 
 Valentin called a cab and sent me home." 
 "Give me the address of this cafe, please." 
 The woman did so. As Duvall was entering 
 
 it in his notebook, a servant announced that the 
 
 automobile was at the door.
 
 82 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 In fifteen minutes the party, consisting of Mr. 
 Stapleton, Duvall, and Mary Lanahan, were leav 
 ing the car at the spot in the Bois de Boulogne 
 which had been the scene of the kidnapping. 
 Frangois was ordered to drive his machine to the 
 exact spot, as nearly as he could tell, that it had 
 occupied on the previous occasion. Mary Lana 
 han led the others to the place on the grass where 
 she had sat. 
 
 It was evident at once that the distances she 
 had named in telling her story were less, if any 
 thing, than the actual facts. It was quite im 
 possible to see how, in any way, the child could 
 have been taken from the spot she indicated, to 
 the woods, without consuming a considerable 
 period of time five minutes, at least. To be 
 lieve that the nurse could have turned away her 
 head for a moment, and then looked around to 
 find the boy gone seemed the sheerest fabric of 
 the imagination; yet the woman, in repeating her 
 story, stuck to it with a grim pertinacity which, 
 it seemed, could come only from the knowledge 
 that she was telling the truth. 
 
 Ten days had elapsed since the boy had been 
 kidnapped. It seemed almost useless to search 
 the spot for any evidences of the crime. Yet
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 83 
 
 Duvall began to go over the ground where the 
 nurse testified that she had sat, with the most 
 minute care. Inch by inch, he examined the turf, 
 subjecting almost every blade of grass to a sepa 
 rate examination. The operation required over 
 half an hour, and both Mr. Stapleton and the 
 nurse grew tired of watching him, and strolled 
 about aimlessly. 
 
 Hence they did not see him pick up a tiny ob 
 ject from the grass. It was a half-smoked cigar 
 ette, dirty and almost falling to pieces from the 
 action of the weather, yet held together by a 
 slender tip of gold. 
 
 He placed it carefully within his pocketbook, 
 and rose. "Nothing more to be done here," he 
 called to Mr. Stapleton, and in a moment the 
 three were proceeding toward the waiting auto 
 mobile. 
 
 Upon the return to the house, Mr. Stapleton 
 drew the detective into his library. "Have you 
 discovered anything, Mr. Duvall?" he inquired, 
 making an effort to conceal his almost frantic 
 anxiety. 
 
 "I do not know yet. I may have a clue; but 
 I am not sure." 
 
 "What do you think of the woman s story?"
 
 84 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "It seems impossible to believe it." 
 
 "You think, then, that she had a hand in the 
 matter she and this fellow Valentin?" 
 
 "It begins to look like it." 
 
 "On what do you base your conclusions, Mr. 
 Duvall? I cannot bring myself to believe that 
 Mary Lanahan is lying, ready as I am to sus 
 pect this fellow Valentin." 
 
 "First, Mr. Stapleton, on the facts themselves. 
 The boy could not have been taken away with 
 out her knowledge. Secondly, upon some minor 
 matters her error of half an hour, in telling her 
 story, for instance." 
 
 "I am sorry, Mr. Duvall, but I cannot believe 
 that you are right. I d suspect Valentin, at once; 
 but if Mary Lanahan is not telling the truth, 
 then my experience of twenty years in judging 
 human nature has been wasted." 
 
 "Yet you yourself heard her admit that she was 
 with Valentin only last Friday, the day she was 
 taken ill." 
 
 "Yes. That is true." Mr. Stapleton passed 
 his hand uncertainly across his forehead. "It s 
 too much for me." 
 
 "Let me have a word with the nurse, alone, 
 before I go," asked Duvall.
 
 85 
 
 "Certainly," replied the banker. "I ll send her 
 in to you." 
 
 When Mary Lanahan entered the room, the 
 detective went up to her and eyed her sternly. 
 "Was Alphonse Valentin with you at any time, 
 in the Bois, that day?" 
 
 "No," replied the girl, steadily. 
 
 "Does he smoke gold-tipped cigarettes?" asked 
 Duvall, suddenly. 
 
 The effect of this question upon the nurse was 
 startling. She recoiled as though the detective 
 had struck her. "He he does not smoke at all," 
 she gasped, her face gray with fear. 
 
 "Don t lie to me!" 
 
 "He does not smoke at all," repeated the girl, 
 almost mechanically, and stood confronting him 
 with a defiant air. 
 
 "Very well. That is all." The detective 
 turned from the room and left the house. 
 
 He did not, however, go very far. It was 
 rapidly becoming dark. He passed down the 
 street until he judged he was out of sight of the 
 house, then slowly retraced his steps upon the 
 other side, until he had reached a point nearly 
 opposite the small iron gateway which served as 
 the servants entrance to Mr. Stapleton s house.
 
 86 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Here, hidden behind a tree, he watched for per 
 haps half an hour. 
 
 At the expiration of this period, he was re 
 warded by seeing a young man, evidently an 
 under servant, emerge from the gateway. Du- 
 vall watched him as he proceeded down the 
 street, then began to follow him. 
 
 The young man seemed in no great hurry, and 
 at the junction of the avenue with the Champs 
 Elysees, Duvall accosted him, speaking in 
 French. 
 
 "Do you want to earn twenty francs, my 
 friend?" he asked pleasantly. 
 
 The boy regarded him with a quizzical smile. 
 "Who does not, Monsieur?" he replied. 
 
 "Let me see the note you have in your hand." 
 
 The boy drew back suddenly, and made as 
 though to thrust the letter into his pocket. "It 
 is impossible, Monsieur," he began. 
 
 Duvall took out a gold twenty-franc piece. "I 
 intend to have the letter, my man. If you will 
 give it to me peaceably, here are the twenty francs ; 
 if not, I shall be obliged to take it from you by 
 force." 
 
 The boy regarded the detective for a moment, 
 as though contemplating flight. Duvall seized
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 87 
 
 him by the collar. "Give me the note," he cried, 
 "or I ll call a gendarme and have you placed 
 under arrest!" 
 
 The boy allowed the letter to drop to the pave 
 ment, seized the twenty-franc piece, and took to 
 his heels. 
 
 Duvall picked it up. As he had expected, it 
 was addressed to Alphonse Valentin, Boule 
 vard St. Michel. He had waited, on the chance 
 that Mary Lanahan would lose no time in warn 
 ing her probable confederate. 
 
 The letter gave him the man s address. That 
 was so much accomplished, at least. Then he tore 
 it open, and read the contents. They proved more 
 mystifying than anything that he had yet en 
 countered in this mysterious affair. 
 
 "Destroy the cigarettes!" These three words 
 comprised the entire contents of the note.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 LPHONSE VALENTIN came up to 
 Grace and took her roughly by the arm. 
 "Come with me," he said, and started 
 up the street. 
 
 At first she felt inclined to resist him. A sig 
 nal to a passing gendarme, and she could have 
 had the man placed under arrest. Monsieur Le- 
 fevre had taken care to provide her with creden 
 tials that would insure her obtaining instant as 
 sistance from any member of the police. 
 
 Then another thought came to her. This man 
 Valentin she very much desired to see. His po 
 sition, clinging to the rear of the automobile, 
 indicated that he was in all probability not a 
 confederate of the kidnappers. Just what he 
 was, she could not imagine. She determined to 
 go along with him, and hear what he had to 
 say. 
 
 A few minutes walk brought them to the man s 
 
 88
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 89 
 
 lodgings. For some reason, which she did not 
 understand, the automobile in which she had been 
 a prisoner had stopped on the Boulevard St. 
 Michel within a short distance of Valentin s 
 rooms. 
 
 When they reached the house, Valentin, in 
 stead of opening the door with a key, rang the 
 bell. The woman who had previously admitted 
 Grace came to the door. Valentin nodded. 
 
 "Is this the woman?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said the landlady, recognizing her at 
 once. "This is the one." 
 
 "Good!" Valentin closed the door and led 
 the way to his room. Grace followed, wondering 
 what the man intended to do. 
 
 "Why have you come here twice during the 
 past two days?" he asked, abruptly, after he had 
 lit the lamp and carefully shut the door. 
 
 Grace determined to be quite frank with him. 
 "I wanted to ask you some questions, Monsieur 
 Valentin," she replied. 
 
 "Ha! You know my name?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 He appeared somewhat uneasy. "What are 
 you up to?" 
 
 "I am trying to find Mr. Stapleton s child."
 
 QO THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 A queer smile came over the fellow s face. "Is 
 that why you stole the cigarettes?" he asked. 
 
 "I did not steal them. They were taken by a 
 man with a black beard, who came in through 
 the window when I was here." 
 
 "A black beard?" He smiled incredulously. 
 "And you let him take them." 
 
 "Yes. Why not? Were they of such great 
 value?" 
 
 He glanced about uneasily, but did not reply 
 to her question. "Who was the man?" he pres 
 ently asked. 
 
 "I do not know. I followed him. He entered 
 Mr. Stapleton s house." 
 
 "Sacre! It must have been Francois!" 
 
 "Hardly. Frangois has no beard." 
 
 "But he might have been disguised." He 
 seemed very much perturbed. "What a pity I 
 was so careless!" 
 
 "Monsieur Valentin, will you please tell me 
 what those cigarettes have to do with the kid 
 napping of Mr. Stapleton s child?" 
 
 He looked at her closely for a moment. 
 "Everything," he answered gloomily, "and 
 nothing. I was a fool to have left them 
 here."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 91 
 
 Grace began to feel more and more composed. 
 This man did not talk like one of the band of 
 criminals. u Do you know where the child is?" 
 she suddenly asked. 
 
 "Perhaps." He observed her narrowly. "Do 
 you?" 
 
 "No. If I did, I should restore him to his 
 poor mother." 
 
 "What were you doing in that automobile ?" 
 
 "I was a prisoner. And you?" 
 
 Again he evaded her question. "It is my own 
 affair," he growled. 
 
 "Did you not see who it was that drove the 
 car?" she asked. 
 
 Instead of replying, he flung himself into a 
 chair. "Sit down, Mademoiselle, and tell me the 
 whole story. If I find that you are frank with 
 me, I promise to be equally so with you." 
 
 Suddenly Grace felt an intuition that the man 
 was honest. She determined to do as he asked. 
 "Very well. I will tell you the truth. I am try 
 ing to recover Mr. Stapleton s child. Last night 
 I was watching the house. I was seized from 
 behind, thrown into an automobile, and taken 
 I do not know where. This morning a message 
 to Mr. Stapleton was given me. Tonight I was
 
 92 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 brought here, blindfolded, in an automobile. 
 Then I met you. That is all I know." 
 
 Valentin appeared disappointed. "Then you 
 do not know where the child is?" he asked. 
 "The child is where I was I saw it." 
 As Grace said this, her companion leaped ex 
 citedly from his chair. "Then we have them!" 
 he cried. 
 
 "I do not understand." 
 
 "Mademoiselle, this evening I was watching 
 Monsieur Stapleton s house. Like yourself, I de 
 sire to recover the child. I saw Frangois leave in 
 Monsieur Stapleton s automobile. I climbed in 
 behind, as he left the house. It was dark. He 
 did not see me. He drove out toward Versailles." 
 "Toward Versailles?" exclaimed Grace. 
 "Yes. Why do you seem so surprised." 
 "Never mind. Go on." 
 
 "After a time, he stopped by the roadside. I 
 got out, and hid in the shadow of some trees. 
 Presently you were brought, blindfolded, by a 
 man, who entered the car with you. When it 
 again started, I climbed on behind. That is how 
 I came to meet you." 
 
 "Then you don t know where the house is, from 
 which I was brought?"
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 93 
 
 "No. There are many houses all about. 
 There was no way of knowing, in the dark. Did 
 you come far when they brought you to the au 
 tomobile?" 
 
 "Yes. Several hundred yards, at least. But 
 you know the spot, on the roadside?" 
 
 "Yes. I can find it, without difficulty." 
 
 "Monsieur Valentin, I have a plan a very 
 dangerous plan for recovering Mr. Stapleton s 
 boy. I cannot tell you what it is now. Tomor 
 row I will tell you tomorrow afternoon. I shall 
 want your assistance." 
 
 "What am I to do?" 
 
 "Can you drive an automobile?" 
 
 The man smiled. "Decidedly. It is my pro 
 fession." 
 
 "Splendid! You will wait for me here, and I 
 will come, and tell you what you are to do. I 
 shall arrive not later than six o clock." She rose. 
 "Now I must go; but before I do so, tell me one 
 thing. What is the mystery of the gold-tipped 
 cigarettes?" 
 
 Her question seemed to drive from Valentin s 
 face all the good nature that had dwelt there the 
 moment before. "I cannot tell you that," he 
 growled. "You must not ask me. Let me advise
 
 94: THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 you to drop the matter of the cigarettes, and 
 report your message to Mr. Stapleton at once." 
 
 For a moment, Grace almost regretted her 
 frankness. Suppose, after all, he should prove 
 to be but a confederate of the kidnappers, in 
 league with Mary Lanahan, the nurse, to spirit 
 the boy away in the first place, and now sent by 
 them, in the guise of a spy clinging to the rear of 
 the automobile, to find out what step she pro 
 posed to take to capture them? She paused in 
 indecision. Suddenly there was a tapping upon 
 the door of the room. 
 
 Valentin went to the door and cautiously opened 
 it. The landlady stood on the landing outside. 
 "There is a man to see you, at the door below, 
 Monsieur," she said in a low tone. 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 "I do not know. He gives the name of Victor 
 Girard." 
 
 "Very well. Send him up." 
 
 Grace heard the name Victor Girard. A 
 sudden wave of weakness swept over her. It was 
 Richard! Fie had used the name frequently, in 
 the past. She heard him ascending the short flight 
 of stairs. There was no escape. Yet Monsieur 
 Lefevre particularly insisted that he should not
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 95 
 
 recognize her. She hastily drew down her veil. 
 "Get rid of him as soon as you can," she whis 
 pered to Valentin, and shrunk back into the 
 shadow. 
 
 Duvall came in, glancing sharply about him. 
 He had been waiting to see Valentin since early 
 in the evening, and had inquired for him twice 
 before, only to find that he was out. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Monsieur?" inquired 
 Valentin. 
 
 The detective drew the note from his pocket 
 the note which Mary Lanahan had sent to Val 
 entin, and which Duvall had intercepted. "This 
 is for you, Monsieur?" he asked, then suddenly 
 paused, astounded. In the dim light, he caught 
 sight of Grace, standing on the opposite side of 
 the room, watching him closely. "I I thought 
 Monsieur I thought you were alone," he 
 gasped, his eyes fixed on Grace as though he had 
 seen a ghost. "I I beg your pardon, but " 
 He was unable to proceed. 
 
 Valentin looked at him in amazement. "What 
 is it, my friend?" he asked sharply. "Tell me 
 your business, if you please, and go. I have a 
 visitor." 
 
 "Yes Monsieur so so I see." Duvall
 
 96 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 pulled himself together with a mighty effort and 
 turned his glance to Valentin. He had suffered 
 a great shock. For a moment he would have 
 been ready to swear that Grace, his dear wife, 
 stood before him in the flesh and yet the thing 
 was an absurdity: Grace, with her golden 
 brown hair, her clear complexion, was three 
 thousand miles away! This woman, dark, typi 
 cally French, was quite evidently an entirely dif 
 ferent person; yet the resemblance was start 
 ling he felt himself shaking in every fiber. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur, give me the letter, since you 
 say it is for me," he heard Valentin saying. 
 
 In an instant he had recovered his self posses 
 sion. "Here," he exclaimed, handing the note to 
 the man before him. "It is from Mary Lana- 
 han. I have read it." 
 
 "You have read it, Monsieur!" Valentin ex 
 claimed, angrily. "By what right, then, do you 
 presume to read my letters?" He took the note 
 and hurriedly read its contents. "Sacre!" he ex 
 claimed. "What does this mean?" 
 
 "It means, my friend, that I want that box of 
 gold-tipped cigarettes." 
 
 Grace started. So Richard, too, was inter 
 ested in the recovery of these mysterious cigar-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 97 
 
 ettes. What on earth, she wondered, could it 
 mean? 
 
 "In the first place, Monsieur, let me inform you 
 that I have no cigarettes, gold-tipped or other 
 wise. In the second place, I question your right 
 to make any such demands." 
 
 "Does not the note from Mary Lanahan re 
 quest you to destroy them?" 
 
 Valentin turned pale. "I tell you I have no 
 such cigarettes!" he cried. 
 
 "Are they not the sort, then, that you usually 
 smoke?" 
 
 "I do not smoke at all, Monsieur." 
 
 Duvall laughed. "So you both tell the same 
 story, it seems. My friend, I dislike to discuss 
 these matters before a stranger." He glanced 
 significantly at Grace. 
 
 She dared not go. To speak even to bid 
 Valentin good evening, would, she felt sure, be 
 tray her. So she remained silent. 
 
 "Then take yourself off. I certainly have no 
 desire to discuss them. I tell you, I do not smoke 
 I have no cigarettes that is enough!" 
 
 "What does that note mean, then?" asked 
 Duvall sternly. 
 
 "That is Miss Lanahan s affair and mine."
 
 98 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Duvall drew out his pocketbook, and extracted 
 from it the bit of cigarette stump, with the gold 
 tip, which he had found that morning in the Bois 
 de Boulogne. "Monsieur Valentin," he said, "I 
 found this end of a cigarette at the exact place in 
 the grass, in the Bois de Boulogne, where Mr. 
 Stapleton s child and nurse were, when the boy 
 was stolen. The chauffeur was asleep. You could 
 readily have walked up, taken away the child, 
 and no one would have been the wiser. The 
 story of Mary Lanahan, that no one came near 
 her, that the boy disappeared into thin air, is 
 absurd. The presence of the half-smoked cigar 
 ette, of a kind which I have reason to believe 
 you use, convinces me that you were there in the 
 Bois, with the nurse, at the time of the kidnap 
 ping if indeed you did not take an active part 
 in it. The message from Mary Lanahan, which 
 I have just handed you, directing you to destroy 
 the cigarettes, which, no doubt, she feared, after 
 my questioning, might be used as evidence against 
 you, serves as strong additional proof. I be 
 lieve that you know where Mr. Stapleton s child 
 is." 
 
 The statements which her husband made con 
 vinced Grace that she had made a mistake in con-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 99 
 
 fiding in Valentin. She herself had seen the gold- 
 tipped cigarettes on his table had seen them 
 stolen. It was not very conclusive evidence, she 
 realized; but, taken with the nurse s letter, it was 
 significant. 
 
 Valentin, however, did not appear to be greatly 
 alarmed by the detective s charges. "You are mis 
 taken, Monsieur," he said quietly. "I know noth 
 ing about the affair." 
 
 "Then what does this note mean?" 
 
 "That I cannot tell you. And, if you have any 
 other questions to ask, I beg that you will come 
 again at another time. I, as you see, am en 
 gaged for the moment." He indicated Grace 
 with a glance. 
 
 Duvall looked about, then turned to the door. 
 His object in coming had been fulfilled. He had 
 seen Valentin located him he hoped frightened 
 him. It was one of his theories that a man, 
 frightened by the knowledge that he is being 
 closely pursued, is far more likely to make a false 
 step, than one who fancies himself secure. 
 
 He darted a curious glance at Grace, as he left 
 the room; but her face, concealed in the shadow, 
 told him nothing. Her silent presence filled him 
 with strange disquietude. He stationed himself
 
 100 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 outside the doorway of the house, determined 
 to learn, if possible, who she was, by following 
 her, when she left the place. He had not counted 
 on Valentin s being with her. 
 
 The two left the house together, and the man 
 at once called a cab. Into this he put Grace, 
 all the while eying Duvall savagely. The latter 
 gave up all ideas of pursuing Grace, and returned, 
 somewhat disgruntled, to his hotel. He had 
 barely reached it, when a message was brought 
 to him, summoning him to Mr. Stapleton s house. 
 
 Grace, meanwhile, had driven at once to the 
 banker s, and delivered to him the message with 
 which she had been intrusted by the man in the 
 black mask that morning. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton s face grew more and more 
 angry as she proceeded with her story. He 
 jumped up, as soon as he learned the purport 
 of it, and, ringing up Duvall s hotel, requested the 
 detective to come to him at once. Then he turned 
 to Grace. 
 
 u You have no idea where this place is located?" 
 
 "Not the slightest." 
 
 "You say you saw my boy? He was safe?" 
 
 "I saw a child, which I was told was yours, 
 Mr. Stapleton. I did not recognize him, of
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 101 
 
 course. You know I have never seen your son. 
 Also, he was dressed as a girl." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton produced a photograph with 
 nervous haste. "Was he like this?" he de 
 manded. 
 
 "Yes. It was the same." There was sufficient 
 resemblance, even in the disguise the boy wore, 
 for Grace to be practically certain of his 
 identity. 
 
 "How am I to know that these scoundrels will 
 keep their word?" Mr. Stapleton groaned, his 
 head on his hands. 
 
 "Do you intend, then, to give them the 
 money?" 
 
 "Certainly. Do you suppose I would take any 
 chances, for the matter of a hundred thousand 
 dollars or twice as much, for that matter? 
 His mother and I are unable to sleep, to eat, 
 to do anything in fact, under the strain of this 
 thing. I shall by all means do as they ask." 
 
 "But they will get away." 
 
 "That is nothing to me. Let them. Once my 
 boy is safe, I can spend another hundred thousand 
 to catch them; but not now when one false step 
 might mean his death." 
 
 "They won t harm him, Mr. Stapleton. They
 
 102 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 are too anxious for the money, to let anything 
 happen to him." 
 
 "I ll take no chances." 
 
 Grace rose. "Then I might as well be going/ 
 she said. "I don t see that I can do anything 
 more. I shall report the matter to the Prefect: 
 of Police at once." 
 
 "Very well. And be good enough to say to 
 him that I particularly desire that no steps be 
 taken to prevent the carrying out of the plan. 
 I shall pay this money and regain my boy. After 
 that, the police may do as they like. Good even- 
 ing." 
 
 "Good evening." Grace left the house, feeling 
 singularly disappointed, in spite of the fact that 
 Mr. Stapleton s decision apparently meant that 
 Richard s work in Paris, as well as her own, was 
 likely to be brought to a sudden termination. 
 
 As she was leaving the house, she saw Richard 
 drive up in a cab. The sight of him filled her 
 with joy; although she was forced to conceal it, 
 and pass him by with a look of indifference. In 
 the darkness, she knew she was safe. He recog 
 nized her of course, recognized her, that is, as 
 the woman he had seen in Valentin s room, 
 and her presence here at Mr. Stapleton s house
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 103 
 
 evidently filled him with surprise. For a moment, 
 she thought he was about to speak to her, as he 
 descended from his cab; but she turned away 
 and hurried down the street, and when she looked 
 back, he had entered the house.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MR. STAPLETON was standing in the 
 middle of the library, when Duvall en 
 tered. He turned to him excitedly. 
 
 "Mr. Duvall," he said, "I have just heard news 
 that I hope will restore my boy to me within the 
 next twenty-four hours!" 
 
 "From the woman who just left the house?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 "An agent of the police." 
 
 "Ah! Are you certain of that?" 
 
 "I know only what she says." 
 
 Duvall looked at him curiously. "What is the 
 news she has brought you?" 
 
 "A message from the scoundrels who have 
 stolen the child. They want a hundred thousand 
 dollars, to return him." 
 
 "And she brought you that message?" 
 
 "Yes." The banker regarded his questioner 
 uneasily. 
 
 104
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 105 
 
 "Does it not seem rather singular, Mr. Staple- 
 ton, that a member of the Paris police should 
 come to you with a message from the kidnap 
 pers?" 
 
 Mr. Stapleton frowned. "I had not considered 
 that aspect of the case, Mr. Duvall. I was 
 and am too anxious to get my boy back, to care 
 by whom these fellows deliver their terms." 
 
 "What was the message, Mr. Stapleton?" 
 
 "I am to drive along the road to Versailles 
 tomorrow evening, leaving here at eight o clock, 
 and moving at the rate of twelve miles an hour. 
 Somewhere on that road, an automobile in pass 
 ing will signal me with a blue light. I am then 
 to slow up and toss into the other machine a 
 package containing one hundred thousand dol 
 lars. If I do this, and make no attempt to follow 
 or capture the rascals, they agree to deliver the 
 child here at my house by the time I return 
 home." 
 
 Duvall listened to Mr. Stapleton s words with 
 growing interest. "They are a shrewd lot," he 
 exclaimed. "They will get away in their machine, 
 and have ample opportunity to examine the pack 
 age to see that it contains the amount they de 
 mand. By signaling to confederates at any point
 
 106 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 along the road, or in another automobile, they 
 can advise them whether or not to return the 
 child." 
 
 "But how will they be able to do this, with 
 out running the risk of being caught?" 
 
 "That is easy. They take the boy to Paris, 
 employ a passerby a man of their own class, no 
 doubt for a few francs, to deliver him at your 
 door. To trace them, through that means, will 
 be impossible. If you give them the money, the 
 chances are that they will never be caught." 
 
 "Nevertheless, I shall give it to them." 
 
 "I expected that, Mr. Stapleton. I can un 
 derstand your feelings. It is not right, of course, 
 to submit to this blackmail; but no doubt, were I 
 situated as you are, I would do the same thing. 
 Still, it is a great pity." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because we have an excellent chance to cap 
 ture these fellows." 
 
 "And lose the boy!" 
 
 "Yes, that might be true. Such men are apt 
 to retaliate very promptly, and very severely. 
 They have no pity. I wish I might handle the 
 case to suit myself." 
 
 "What would you do?"
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 1C7 
 
 "I would arrange to follow you, in a fast car, 
 keeping say five hundred feet in the rear. I 
 should have several men, well armed, in the 
 car. By watching carefully, with field glasses if 
 necessary, I would observe the car which sig 
 naled you with the blue light. When this car 
 passed me, I would follow, but make no move 
 which would alarm the kidnappers until they had 
 given the signal whatever it is that would en 
 sure your boy being returned to you. Then I 
 would close in on them, and arrest them." 
 
 "Your plan, Mr. Duvall, is open to serious 
 objections. Suppose these men, undoubtedly on 
 the watch, observe that they are being followed. 
 They will give no signal and I will lose not only 
 my child, but the one hundred thousand dollars 
 as well. No, no, I want no interference in the 
 matter whatever." 
 
 Duvall remained a moment in silence. "Very 
 well, Mr. Stapleton, I am under your orders, of 
 course. But I dislike very much to see these 
 fellows get away." 
 
 "So do I; but there s no help for it." 
 
 "If I can work out a plan for their capture, 
 which will not involve the loss of the boy, you 
 are willing, I take it, to let me go ahead?"
 
 108 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Yes; but I insist that you first submit the 
 plan to me." 
 
 "Very well. And now, another matter. This 
 woman who brought the message to you is, you 
 say, an agent of the police. Did she attempt to 
 explain how she came by the message?" 
 
 "Yes. She was forcibly abducted, last night, 
 carried a long distance out into the country, and 
 the instructions given her. She was brought back 
 to Paris, blindfolded, tonight." 
 
 "Mr. Stapleton, what would you say were I to 
 tell you that less than an hour ago I saw this 
 woman in the rooms of Alphonse Valentin, a man 
 whom I suspect to be very deeply concerned in the 
 kidnapping of your son?" 
 
 Stapleton started. "Is it possible?" he said. 
 "Have you any idea what she was doing 
 there?" " 
 
 "No. They seemed on excellent terms, how 
 ever. Of course, it is not impossible that an 
 agent of the police might pose as a friend of one 
 of the criminals, and thus obtain information. 
 But it looks decidedly queer." 
 
 "It does, indeed. Still, as I said before, if I 
 get my boy back, I shall be satisfied." He took 
 a turn about the room, chewing nervously upon
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 109 
 
 his long black cigar. "Now, Mr. Duvall, what 
 is your plan to capture these fellows?" 
 
 Duvall sat in deep thought for sometime. 
 "It is not an easy matter, Mr. Stapleton, but 
 there is one way which promises success, and that, 
 too, without interfering with your arrangements 
 to recover your boy." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "This. It is necessary for us, in some way. 
 to identify the car which gives you the signal of 
 the blue light. It will pass close to you, at a 
 moderate speed. I want you to mark that car, 
 so that it may be recognized at once." 
 
 "How can I do that?" 
 
 "I will place in the bottom of your machine 
 a small device, consisting of a rubber bulb, 
 equipped with a small nozzle, projecting through 
 a hole in the body of the car. The bulb will be 
 filled with indelible red stain. When you stand 
 up, to toss the package of money to the kid 
 nappers, you must press this bulb with your foot. 
 The two cars will then be side by side. The 
 pressure on the bulb will discharge a blast of the 
 red stain against the body and wheels of the car 
 opposite you. It will then be a simple matter to 
 identify it."
 
 110 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Yes yes. I see that. But what then?" 
 
 "The car, in passing you, will be headed for 
 Paris. Undoubtedly it is the intention of these 
 fellows to enter the city. I shall station myself 
 at the Porte de Versailles, and I will arrange to 
 have other men, members of the detective bu 
 reau, stationed at the neighboring gates in the 
 fortifications. All cars entering the city will be 
 momentarily halted. The one which bears upon 
 its body or wheels the red stain will be seized, 
 its occupants arrested." 
 
 "But suppose they have not yet notified their 
 confederates to return the boy to me?" 
 
 "In that event, I feel certain that the child 
 will be found in the automobile with them. Look 
 at the thing as you would, were you in their 
 place. They are forced to act with great quick 
 ness. Were they to signal, by lights or otherwise, 
 to persons along the road, they could hardly hope 
 to get the boy to your house before you yourself 
 return there. They know you will return home 
 immediately at your best speed as soon as you 
 have delivered the money to them. What more 
 likely, then, that they will have the boy with 
 them in the car, will drive to some prearranged 
 point in Paris, and deliver him to the person who
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 111 
 
 will bring him to your house? That would seem, 
 to my mind, their most probable plan." 
 
 "And if not if the child is not with them?" 
 
 "Then there are but two courses open to them. 
 The first is to signal, by lights or otherwise, to 
 their confederates, before they enter Paris. If 
 they do this, the boy will be returned to you, 
 and we will capture the men as well. The only 
 other alternative, of course, is for them to notify 
 their confederates after they enter Paris." 
 
 "But, if you arrest him at the barrier, they 
 cannot do that, and my boy will not be sent 
 back." 
 
 "That is true ; but I do not think they will 
 wait to notify their confederates until after they 
 enter Paris." 
 
 "Why not, Mr. Duvall?" 
 
 "First, because of the danger of being ob 
 served, in the crowded streets of the city. Sec 
 ondly, because I do not think the child is in Paris 
 at all. The woman who brought you the mes 
 sage from the kidnappers, I understand, saw the 
 child at a point some distance in the country. 
 It seems unlikely that these men would run the 
 risk of conveying the child into the city, in broad 
 daylight. By having the boy with them in the
 
 112 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 car, they avoid all danger of signaling anybody. 
 They merely inspect the package of money, run 
 into Paris, fully believing themselves for the time 
 being safe, drop the child at a convenient point, 
 divide the plunder, and scatter to their respective 
 hiding places. Criminals of this sort know per 
 fectly well that they are far safer, hiding in a 
 big city, than fleeing through the country in an 
 automobile. I feel scarcely any doubt that they 
 have the child with them." 
 
 "But if he is still in the country, and they waij 
 until after they are in Paris before notifying 
 their confederates?" 
 
 "Then the latter are obliged to journey a long 
 distance out into the country, get the child, and 
 bring him back to your house. That would re 
 quire a considerable period. They could not pos 
 sibly do it before you return home." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton considered the matter for a long 
 time in silence. "Your arguments seem sound, 
 Mr. Duvall," he presently observed. "Like your 
 self, I am anxious to capture these fellows. It 
 makes my blood boil, to think of their getting 
 away. Of course, your deductions may be 
 wrong."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 113 
 
 "Then at least we will get the perpetrators of 
 the crime, and it is most likely that one of them, 
 at least, may be persuaded to turn state s evi 
 dence, and disclose the whereabouts of your 
 son." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton pondered the matter with great 
 care. Evidently he feared any course of action 
 which did not insure the return of the child. 
 
 "It seems to me, Mr. Stapleton," the detec 
 tive went on, "that you owe it to the public to 
 let me make this effort to capture these fellows. 
 It is a grave danger to the community, to have 
 such rogues at large. Let me try my plan. Even 
 if it fails, you are no worse off than you are 
 now. The attempt cannot in any way be traced 
 to you." 
 
 "Very well," said the banker, nervously. "It 
 is a chance that s all. However, since it seems 
 to involve no breach of faith on my part, I am 
 willing to take it." 
 
 "Good! I will bring the device I spoke of to 
 your house tomorrow, and attach it to your car. 
 Your man Frangois will drive you, I presume." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You trust him?"
 
 114 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "I have no reasons for not doing so. And be 
 sides he will know nothing of the affair. His 
 part will be merely to drive the car, as I direct 
 him." 
 
 Duvall thought for a moment. "You will not, 
 of course, give him his instructions until the last 
 moment just before you start." 
 
 "No. That will be best, I think." 
 
 "Undoubtedly. And to avoid any possible in 
 terference, I think I had better not attach the 
 identifying device of which I have spoken to your 
 car until late tomorrow afternoon, immediately 
 before you set out. Then, if by any chance your 
 chauffeur is in this plot, he will have no oppor 
 tunity to give a warning." 
 
 "Very well. I think, however, that your pre 
 cautions are needless. There has been nothing 
 whatever brought out to connect Francois with 
 this matter." 
 
 "I know; but it is well to be careful. You 
 will leave here tomorrow evening, at eight 
 o clock?" 
 
 "Yes. Promptly at eight." 
 
 "You might do well to have someone with 
 you, some member of the police, perhaps." 
 
 "The instructions expressly forbid it."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 115 
 
 "Ah I see. These fellows are shrewd." He 
 took up his hat. "Until tomorrow then. Good 
 night." 
 
 "Good night."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AT the same hour that Richard Duvall was 
 arranging with Mr. Stapleton his plan for 
 the capture of the kidnappers the fol 
 lowing day, Grace was closeted with Monsieur 
 Lefevre, the Prefect of Police, in the latter s 
 library, going over the affair in all its details. 
 The Prefect was speaking, ticking off on his fin 
 gers the points in the case as he proceeded. 
 
 "First, we have the impossible story of the 
 nurse, Mary Lanahan. She seems to be telling 
 the truth ; yet I believe she is lying. In my opinion, 
 she is deeply concerned in the whole matter." 
 
 "But what about the attempt to poison her?" 
 
 "It is highly probable that she poisoned herself, 
 taking a slight dose only. This would divert 
 suspicion from her." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 "Then we have the case of Alphonse Valentin, 
 and the mysterious gold-tipped cigarettes. Your 
 
 116
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 117 
 
 husband, Monsieur Duvall, I am informed, has 
 found one of these cigarettes, partly smoked, on 
 the grass at the scene of the crime. This might 
 indicate that Valentin was there, with her, on 
 some occasion, but not necessarily on the day the 
 kidnapping occurred. It might readily have been 
 the day before or the week before, for that 
 matter." 
 
 "I thought of that," remarked Grace, quietly. 
 "It seems to me that Richard attached too much 
 importance to the matter." 
 
 "That remains to be seen. Now, supposing 
 Valentin to be concerned, with the nurse, in the 
 plot. He of course does not think, at the start, 
 that the possession of the cigarettes would in 
 volve him in the affair, because he does not know 
 that Monsieur Duvall has found the one in the 
 grass. Your husband, however, asks Mary Lana- 
 han what kind of cigarettes Valentin smokes. She 
 at once becomes suspicious, and at the first oppor 
 tunity warns Valentin, by letter, to destroy them. 
 That shows clearly that they are working to 
 gether." 
 
 "Undoubtedly. But meanwhile the cigarettes 
 are stolen from Valentin s room by a man with 
 a dark beard, who subsequently enters Mr. Staple-
 
 118 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 ton s house. For that, I confess, I can find no 
 explanation." 
 
 "Nor I. The destruction of the cigarettes 
 could be of no importance to anyone, except to 
 the kidnappers themselves. It is of course pos 
 sible that someone else in Mr. Stapleton s house 
 Francois, for instance is concerned in the 
 plot." 
 
 "But the man who took the cigarettes had a 
 black beard, while Frangois is smooth shaven." 
 
 "I know. But it might have been a dis 
 guise." 
 
 "I do not think so. The man I saw was taller 
 than Frangois, and not so heavily built." 
 
 The Prefect considered the matter for a mo 
 ment. "You are certain that he entered the 
 Stapleton s house?" 
 
 "Absolutely certain. I saw the gate close be 
 hind him." 
 
 "Then I can only say that, so far, the matter 
 is inexplicable. Now let us come back to Val 
 entin. He claims to be working to capture the 
 kidnappers in order to clear the nurse, whom 
 he loves." 
 
 "That is as I understand it." 
 
 "Fie denies that he smokes, yet offers no ex-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 119 
 
 planation of the presence of the cigarettes in his 
 room." 
 
 "None. Further, someone sends a note to 
 Valentin, advising him that the writer is sus 
 picious of Francois suggesting that he watch 
 him. Can this mean that Frangois is in the plot, 
 and they fear he may be weakening preparing 
 to turn against them?" 
 
 "It certainly looks that way." 
 
 "I wish I could see one of these famous cigar. 
 ettes." 
 
 Grace laughed suddenly. "Why," she ex* 
 claimed, "I have one in my pocketbook. I had 
 quite forgotten it." She opened her purse and 
 took out the slender white cylinder. 
 
 Lefevre examined the thing closely. "An 
 Egyptian cigarette of American make," he mused. 
 "Expensive, here in Paris, and rarely used, ex 
 cept by Americans." 
 
 "That is true; yet I understand that this man 
 Valentin has lived a great deal in America." 
 
 For a moment the Prefect did not reply. Then 
 a puzzled look crossed his face. "This is a 
 woman s cigarette," he exclaimed. "No man 
 would smoke such a thing." He brought his 
 hand down sharply upon his knee. "My girl,
 
 120 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 it is not impossible that the child was stolen not 
 by a man at all, but by a woman." 
 
 "A woman, apparently, that both Valentin and 
 the nurse are trying to shield." 
 
 The Prefect sat for a moment buried in 
 thought. Then he glanced at Grace keenly. "It 
 seems to me," he remarked, in a quiet tone, "that 
 we should endeavor to determine whether or not 
 Mrs. Stapleton is in the habit of using cigarettes." 
 
 "Mrs. Stapleton!" gasped Grace, in amaze 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes. I confess the idea is a new one, to me; 
 but it may prove of interest." 
 
 "But why should the boy s mother wish to 
 kidnap him?" 
 
 "I do not know. There is but one point of 
 significance. During the past week my men have, 
 naturally, questioned Mrs. Stapleton closely as 
 to her movements during the past two or three 
 months. They did this, to determine, if possible, 
 whether the criminals were of Paris, or from 
 some other place, where Mrs. Stapleton may have 
 been, with the child, during the past winter. You 
 know these fellows work in bands, and have their 
 regular field of operations." 
 
 "I see. And where had she been?"
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 121 
 
 "Monte Carlo!" The Prefect uttered the two 
 words significantly. 
 
 Grace was quick to grasp his meaning. 
 
 "Then you mean that possibly Mrs. Stapleton 
 may have lost large sums at the gambling tables, 
 and, fearing to tell her husband of her losses, 
 has enlisted the services of the nurse, and of her 
 friend Valentin, and spirited the child away for a 
 few weeks, in order to get the sum of one hun 
 dred thousand dollars from her husband without 
 his knowledge?" 
 
 "It is by no means impossible. I would recom 
 mend that you investigate the matter thoroughly. 
 If we find that Mrs. Stapleton uses gold-tipped 
 cigarettes of this variety, it may go far toward 
 a solution of the whole affair." 
 
 Grace, remembering Mrs. Stapleton s grief- 
 stricken appearance, felt that the clue was a very 
 slender one, but determined to follow it up, never 
 theless. 
 
 "Now," went on the Prefect, "we come to the 
 sudden and most unexpected appearance of Val 
 entin, clinging to the rear of the automobile that 
 brought you back to Paris tonight." 
 
 "As I have told you, he claims to have clam 
 bered into Mr. Stapleton s car."
 
 122 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Driven by Frangois?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you say the man who drove the car had 
 a black beard the same man, in fact, who broke 
 into Valentin s room and stole the cigarettes?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then either Valentin is lying, or the man with 
 the black beard is Francois. Let us look at his 
 story from both sides. If he is telling the truth, 
 then Frangois is one of the kidnappers." 
 
 "So it would seem. You are having him 
 watched, you say?" 
 
 "Yes. My men report that he did leave the 
 house, in Mr. Stapleton s automobile tonight, at 
 about nine o clock. That would seem to agree 
 with Valentin s story. They also report that he 
 returned about eleven, alone." 
 
 "They did not follow him?" 
 
 "No. It is impossible to do so, in another car, 
 without arousing his suspicion, and putting him 
 on his guard. We do not wish him to know that 
 he is being watched." 
 
 "But Mr. Stapleton must know where he has 
 been why the car was out." 
 
 "Yes. We have questioned him. He says the 
 man reported that the gasolene tank was leak-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 123 
 
 ing, and that he ordered him to have it repaired 
 at once." 
 
 "And was it repaired?" 
 
 The Prefect smiled. "Yes. The car was at 
 a garage in the Boulevard St. Michel from half 
 past nine until half past ten." 
 
 Grace fell back, astonished. "Then Valentin 
 is lying!" she cried. 
 
 "So it seems; unless, of course, Francois took 
 out another car from the garage, while his own 
 was being fixed." 
 
 "They would know that at the garage." 
 
 "They deny it. But these fellows all hang to 
 gether. They would think nothing of protecting 
 a brother chauffeur, in the matter of a little joy 
 ride." 
 
 "Valentin says nothing about this, in his 
 story." 
 
 "He may have omitted it, as an unimportant 
 detail. I mean that he may have slipped into the 
 second car, as he did into the first, without being 
 observed. It was dark of course. He may not 
 have thought it necessary to mention it. All this, 
 of course, is on the assumption that he is telling 
 the truth. Now let us say that he is lying 
 that the man with the black beard is not Francois,
 
 124 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 but someone else concerned, with Valentin in the 
 plot. What is the purpose of his tale?" 
 
 "I cannot imagine. Can you, Monsieur?" 
 
 "No, not immediately. The first contradic 
 tion, of course, is this. If Valentin and the man 
 with the black beard are working together, why 
 should the latter have broken into his room to 
 get the cigarettes?" 
 
 "There seems no sense to it." 
 
 "Yet he may have realized the danger of the 
 cigarettes being in Valentin s possession, and in 
 stead of trying to warn him simply came and took 
 them away. It is not a particularly plausible 
 explanation; but let us admit it, for the moment, 
 in order to get ahead with our reasoning. Sup 
 pose Valentin, the man with the black beard, and 
 Mary Lanahan, the nurse, to be all working to 
 gether, either with Mrs. Stapleton, or with out 
 side parties. They have the child safely hidden. 
 They abduct you, and send the message to Mr. 
 Stapleton through you. They do not trust you, 
 knowing, no doubt, that you are an agent of my 
 office. They send Valentin along, on the back 
 of the machine, to pretend to be an enemy of 
 theirs trying, like yourself, to recover the child. 
 He thus gets into your confidence. He advises
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 125 
 
 you to report your message from the kidnappers 
 to Mr. Stapleton at once. He questions you, and 
 learns that you do not know the location of the 
 house where the child is hidden. He then offers 
 to show you as nearly as he can where the house 
 is located. If he is in league with the kidnappers, 
 he will take you, and the men whom tomorrow I 
 shall send with you, to some location miles re 
 moved from the actual point where the child is 
 concealed, and you will waste the day in a use 
 less search. Decidedly it would be a clever move 
 on their part." 
 
 "It certainly would." 
 
 "Further, you told this fellow that you had a 
 plan to capture the scoundrels. You are to ac 
 quaint him with that plan, tomorrow afternoon. 
 If you do so, he will no doubt get to the telephone 
 on some pretext and warn his comrades of what 
 you intend to do. I strongly recommend that 
 you put no faith in the fellow whatever." 
 
 "Still, you would advise trying to locate the 
 house, as he suggests?" 
 
 "Yes, we may be wrong about him. We must 
 leave no stone unturned. And now we come to 
 your interview with Mr. Stapleton. You gave 
 him the message, of course. What did he say?"
 
 126 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "He said that he intended to carry out the in 
 structions I gave him to the letter pay these 
 fellows their money, and get back the boy." 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre uttered an exclamation of 
 anger. "Sacre!" He must not do that! The 
 stupid fellow! He will spoil everything!" 
 
 Grace laughed quietly to herself. "Hardly 
 stupid, Monsieur! The poor man is half mad 
 over the boy s loss. He will do anything, to get 
 him back. I can scarcely blame him." 
 
 The Prefect held out his hand. "I beg your 
 pardon, my child. You are right. It is perhaps 
 but natural for him to feel as he does. But there 
 are other things at stake, than the recovery of 
 the child. For Monsieur Stapleton to pay over 
 this huge sum to these criminals, and then to 
 allow them to -escape, is not only a grave reflec 
 tion upon the efficiency of the Paris police, but is 
 an injustice to the public as well. If these men 
 are successful in this attempt, they will make 
 others. Other children will be stolen. I cannot 
 permit it. It must be prevented at all costs. 
 These men must be brought to justice." 
 
 "How can you prevent it, Monsieur? Mr. 
 Stapleton is determined." 
 
 "That, my child, is the question. I cannot stop
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 127 
 
 Monsieur Stapleton if he wishes to drive out 
 the road to Versailles and toss a hundred thou 
 sand dollars into the first automobile that passes 
 him, showing a blue light." He rose and began 
 to walk up and down the room. 
 
 "I have a plan, Monsieur," said Grace, quietly. 
 
 "What is it, my child?" The Prefect regarded 
 her with an indulgent smile. He was very fond 
 of Grace. He regretted that he had been unable 
 to secure the services of her husband in this case. 
 He knew, from past experience, her cleverness; 
 but he did not believe that in a matter of this 
 sort she would be able to outwit men who were 
 probably among the shrewdest criminals in 
 Paris. 
 
 "First," said Grace, "we will have the location 
 pointed out to us by Valentin thoroughly 
 searched." 
 
 "Assuredly! It will, however, probably result 
 in nothing. Even if Valentin is telling the truth, 
 these fellows will beyond question have moved 
 the child before now to prepare for the work of 
 tomorrow evening." 
 
 "Possibly. At any rate, we will try. After 
 that, I shall want Valentin to drive a motor car 
 for me. He is an accomplished chauffeur."
 
 128 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "You will take him into your confidence, then?" 
 asked the Prefect, in some alarm. 
 
 "No. I shall tell him nothing, except that he 
 is to drive the car, and where." 
 
 " Very well. But be careful. What next?" 
 
 Grace leaned over and spoke to the Prefect in 
 low tones for several minutes. He listened to 
 what she said, occasionally smiling, and nodding 
 his head. Presently he brought his hand down 
 sharply upon the table. "Bravo!" he exclaimed. 
 "You were born to be a detective. We will get 
 the kidnappers, the money, and in all probability 
 the child as well. I congratulate you!" 
 
 "You think it will work, then?" 
 
 "I do not see how it can fail. It is an inspira 
 tion. I shall certainly feel very well satisfied 
 indeed, if I can return to Monsieur Stapleton 
 both his child and his money, and at the same 
 time place the kidnappers behind the bars. I 
 could never permit it to be said that the police 
 of Paris would knowingly allow a desperate band 
 of criminals to get away with half a million of 
 francs without lifting a hand to prevent it." He 
 rose and glanced at his watch. "Come, my 
 child. It is after midnight. You have had a long 
 and exciting day. You had better get some rest."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 129 
 
 Grace rose. "Richard seemed awfully puzzled 
 when he saw me." 
 
 "Did he?" The Prefect laughed mischiev 
 ously. "Really it is a great joke upon him. To 
 be within a step of his own wife, and not to know 
 her!" 
 
 Grace seemed scarcely to appreciate the humor 
 of the situation. "I think it s a shame," she said, 
 "Poor Richard. He ll never forgive me. I really 
 think I ought to tell him." 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre shook his head. "If you 
 do that, my dear child, everything will be spoiled. 
 He will insist upon your dropping the case at 
 once, and that would certainly not be fair to me." 
 
 "But, Monsieur, after all, you really do not 
 need me, with all the clever men you have upon 
 your staff." 
 
 "Who knows? Perhaps you may succeed, 
 where they will fail. I have great faith in the 
 intuition of a woman. And already you have 
 advanced the case further in forty-eight hours 
 than my men have done in ten days. It was a 
 chance, I will admit, that these rascals should 
 have chosen you to deliver their demands to 
 Monsieur Stapleton. I confess I do not under 
 stand their reasons for doing so. They must
 
 130 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 have known that besides telling your story to him, 
 you would also tell it to me. It may have been 
 sheer bravado on their part it is a characteristic, 
 I have noted, in many criminals. They seem to 
 glory in defying the police. These fellows, no 
 doubt, think that they have matters so arranged 
 that capture is impossible. I think we shall give 
 them a little surprise." 
 
 He turned to the door, and held it open, al 
 lowing Grace to pass into the hall. "Good night, 
 my child," he called out to her, as she began to 
 ascend the stairs. "I think I will smoke one more 
 cigar." 
 
 As for Grace, she lay awake a long time, think 
 ing of Richard, of their home in the country, of 
 the happy hours they had spent there before this 
 unexpected interruption to their honeymoon. It 
 seemed very queer to her, to be lying there, alone. 
 She had not gotten used to it. And somewhere, 
 in this big city, Richard was also sleeping and 
 she not with him! The excitement of the affair 
 was beginning to die out. The meeting with Rich 
 ard on the boat, which she had planned when she 
 set out from home, had not materialized. She had 
 postponed this meeting, in her thoughts, until his 
 arrival in Paris, and now he had come, and still
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 131 
 
 she had not been able so much as to touch his 
 hand. She finally went to sleep, devoutly praying 
 that tomorrow, and the capture of the kidnap 
 pers, would mark the end of their needless and 
 cruel separation.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 PROMPTLY at eight o clock the next even 
 ing Mr. John Stapleton left his house in 
 the Avenue Kleber, in a big French touring 
 car, with Frangois at the wheel. 
 
 The car presented no points of peculiarity, 
 being like a thousand others to be seen any even 
 ing upon the streets of Paris. It was of large 
 size, high powered, and painted a green so dark 
 as to be almost black. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton sat in the tonneau, wearing a 
 dark blue serge suit, and a Panama hat. In his 
 left hand he clutched a small package, about the 
 size of a cigar box. In the package were bank 
 notes amounting to one hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 Close beside his right foot lay a rubber bulb, 
 from which a short pipe extended through a hole 
 bored in the side of the car. The end of the pipe 
 held a small brass nozzle. It projected but a 
 short distance beyond the body of the car, and 
 
 132
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 133 
 
 in the dim light of early evening was quite in 
 visible. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton told his chauffeur to drive out 
 the road toward Versailles. "I feel like getting 
 some fresh air," he added. "It s rather warm, 
 tonight." Inwardly he was burning up with ex 
 citement. 
 
 From Paris to Versailles is a matter of some 
 fourteen miles. Mr. Gtapleton s car proceeded 
 slowly. He wanted to run no chances of missing 
 the car with the blue light. 
 
 At the Porte de Versailles he paused long 
 enough to see Richard Duvall, standing in the 
 shadow of the gateway. Then he passed outside 
 of Paris. 
 
 There were many automobiles and other ve 
 hicles on the road. The evening was a pleasant 
 one, and all Paris seemed out taking the air. The 
 majority of the vehicles were coming toward the 
 city. He observed a car, some distance behind 
 him, containing a single occupant, a man of mid 
 dle age, but paid no attention to it. His eyes 
 were strained to detect in the cars approaching 
 him some evidence of the signal light which was 
 to rouse him to sudden action. 
 
 He noticed that Frangois, like himself, was
 
 134 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 carefully scrutinizing each car as it approached 
 them. He wondered if the chauffeur could have 
 any idea of the purpose of his expedition; but 
 presently dismissed the thought as entirely un 
 likely, and devoted himself to the passing cars. 
 
 He had proceeded perhaps four or five miles 
 beyond the fortifications, when he saw a large 
 car approaching slowly from the direction of 
 [Versailles. It contained but two persons, the 
 chauffeur, and a heavily veiled woman. 
 
 The chauffeur, who was keenly observing the 
 machine in which Mr. Stapleton sat, began to 
 swerve to the right side of the road, so as to 
 pass as closely to the banker s car as possible. At 
 the same moment there showed through the gath 
 ering darkness a brilliant spot of blue light in the 
 tonneau where sat the woman. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton was on his feet in an instant. 
 The two cars approached each other rapidly. It 
 was necessary for him to act with great quickness. 
 He shifted the package containing the money 
 from his left hand to his right, and a moment 
 later had tossed it lightly into the other car. 
 
 He saw at once that it landed safely within, and 
 at the same instant he pressed his foot down hard 
 upon the rubber bulb. In a moment the car with
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 135 
 
 the blue light had swept past, and was disappear 
 ing rapidly in the direction of Paris. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton leaned forward and addressed 
 Francois in a voice which quivered with excite 
 ment. "Drive home at once," he commanded. 
 
 In a moment he was following the first car 
 toward the city. 
 
 He did not notice, as he swept down the dark 
 ening road, the car which had been following 
 him all the way from Paris. It continued on its 
 way toward Versailles. In it were two people. 
 At the wheel sat a man who bore, in the semi-dark 
 ness, a striking resemblance to Francois, Mr. 
 Stapleton s chauffeur, while in the rear sat a 
 figure, in dark suit and Panama hat, which seemed 
 for all the world like that of the banker himself. 
 Had a casual observer not seen Mr. Stapleton 
 turn back toward Paris, he would have concluded 
 that he was still on his way toward Versailles. 
 
 The occupants of this second car also appeared 
 to be keenly watching the various automobiles 
 which passed them, as though expecting some sig 
 nal, some recognition; yet, in spite of their eager 
 and expectant glances, they seemed doomed to 
 disappointment. 
 
 At last Versailles was reached. The elderly
 
 136 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 man in the tonneau gave a short command, his 
 chauffeur turned the car about, and they began to 
 return to Paris. Nothing further whatever hap 
 pened on the Versailles road. 
 
 Meanwhile, Richard Duvall, at the Porte de 
 Versailles, was carefully scrutinizing the various 
 incoming machines that passed the gate and en 
 tered the city.- With a brilliant electric search 
 light he examined their bodies and wheels, look 
 ing always for the telltale red stains which 
 would identify the kidnappers car. Beside him 
 stood Vernet, one of the Prefect s assistants, with 
 whom Duvall had become well acquainted during 
 his former stay in Paris. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur Duvall," remarked the latter, 
 "a most ingenious plan this of yours. I won 
 der if it will be succesful?" 
 
 "I feel sure of it." 
 
 "I hope you are right." He looked at his 
 watch. "Half past eight. About time, I should 
 think, from what you tell me. Here is a big fel 
 low, now. A Pasquet, by her looks. Six-cylin 
 der, too." 
 
 Duvall glanced at the oncoming car. A wagon 
 which preceded it was just passing the gates. The 
 big Pasquet slowed up, and almost stopped.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 137 
 
 The detective threw the rays of his searchlight 
 on the body of the car, then started back with an 
 exclamation. From one end to the other, the 
 dark green finish of the sides and wheels was 
 spattered and streaked with bright red paint. 
 Dust had settled in it, in places, especially on the 
 wheels; but above, on the doors, it was clear and 
 unmistakable. 
 
 "Vernet," he shouted, excitedly, "it is the one! 
 Quick! Don t let them get away." 
 
 Vernet stepped up to the quivering motor. At 
 the wheel sat a young man, quite composed. In 
 the tonneau, a veiled woman reclined at ease. In 
 her hands she held a brown paper package. 
 
 She leaned toward Vernet, and spoke a single 
 word to him. Duvall did not hear what it was; 
 but its effect upon the Prefect s man was instan 
 taneous electrical. He stepped back and raised 
 his hat. "Pardon, Madame," he said, and the 
 Pasquet rolled through the gate and into the 
 streets of Paris unmolested. 
 
 Duvall had sprung forward, and, as he did so, 
 swept the occupants of the car with his electric 
 searchlight. Suddenly he drew back in amaze 
 ment, just as Vernet allowed the car to pass on. 
 He could scarcely believe that what he saw was
 
 138 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 a reality. There was the big black car, its body 
 and wheels plentifully bespattered with the iden 
 tifying red stain and there, at the wheel, sat 
 Alphonse Valentin, while the veiled woman in the 
 rear was Grace ! 
 
 He did not know it was Grace he did know 
 that it was the woman who had been with Valentin 
 in his room, who had brought the message from 
 the kidnappers to Mr. Stapleton, who, in some 
 far off and intangible way, reminded him of 
 Grace. 
 
 There she sat, in her hand the package contain 
 ing Mr. Stapleton s money and Vernet doffed 
 his cap to her, and permitted her to go on ! Was 
 this woman, then, hoodwinking even the police? 
 
 He sprang to Vernet s side. "Stop them!" he 
 cried, in a hoarse voice. "They are the ones I 
 am after." 
 
 Vernet shook his head. "Impossible, Mon 
 sieur. They are given safe conduct by Monsieur 
 the Prefect himself." 
 
 "But they are thieves kidnappers!" 
 
 Vernet shrugged his shoulders. "It may be so, 
 Monsieur Duvall; but my orders are to let them 
 pass." 
 
 The detective ground his teeth, helpless. His
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 139 
 
 scheme for identifying the criminals had worked 
 perfectly. He had found them, only to see both 
 them and Mr. Stapleton s hundred thousand dol 
 lars as well slip quietly through his fingers. He 
 cursed the whole police force of Paris roundly, 
 in his anger. 
 
 The arrival of another car distracted his at 
 tention. It was Mr. Stapleton, hurrying home, 
 in the hope of finding his boy. Duvall did not 
 stop him. The banker was evidently thinking of 
 nothing but his lost son. 
 
 Several other cars passed. Duvall had no 
 interest in them. He was about to turn away, 
 with the intention of hunting up Mr. Stapleton 
 and learning whether or not the boy had been 
 returned to him, when he heard a familiar voice 
 calling him by name. He turned. It was Mon 
 sieur Lefevre, in a big dark green car. 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Duvall!" the Prefect cried, in 
 pretended surprise. "You here! In Paris! Or 
 do my eyes deceive me?" 
 
 The detective looked a bit sheepish. He real 
 ized that in not calling on his old friend before 
 now, he had been guilty of an apparent rudeness 
 which Monsieur Lefevre might justly resent. 
 "Monsieur," he cried, "it is indeed I." He put
 
 140 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 out his hand, and grasped that of his old chief 
 warmly. "A little matter of business brought me 
 to Paris. I have only just arrived." 
 
 "Indeed." The Prefect s eyes twinkled. "I 
 hope, my dear fellow, that your other engage 
 ments will permit you to come and see me before 
 long." 
 
 "I shall come this very evening, Monsieur. In 
 fact, I have a matter of the utmost importance 
 to discuss with you. Shall you be at liberty?" 
 
 "In an hour, mon ami. Until then I have 
 other things to occupy me. Come to the Prefec 
 ture in an hour. I shall be waiting for you. For 
 the present, adieu." He called an order to his 
 chauffeur, and drove rapidly off into the dark 
 ness. 
 
 Duvall turned on his heel and began to look 
 for a taxicab. "Good night, Vernet," he called 
 out, as he went up the street. 
 
 In half an hour, he had reached Mr. Staple- 
 ton s house. He found the unfortunate banker 
 striding up and down his library in a towering 
 rage. "The fellows have deceived me!" he cried. 
 "They have not brought back my boy. Did you 
 see anything of them? Tell me!" He grasped 
 Duvall nervously by the arm.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 141 
 
 "The car into which you threw the package 
 of money contained, besides the chauffeur, but 
 one occupant, a woman, did it not?" 
 
 "Yes yes! Did you get her?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why not? Did your scheme to identify the 
 car fail to work?" 
 
 "On the contrary, it worked perfectly. I 
 stopped the car at the barrier. The woman in it 
 had the package of money in her hand." 
 
 "And you did not arrest her! In Heaven s 
 name, why not?" 
 
 "The police would not permit me to do so. 
 The woman was the same one who brought you 
 the message last night, the supposed agent of 
 the police. They allowed her to pass the gates." 
 
 "What?" the banker fairly shouted his ques 
 tion. "This is ridiculous! Is the woman a crimi 
 nal, or is she a detective? She cannot be both, 
 and if she is the latter why was she in that car, 
 with my money in her hand?" 
 
 "I do not know. But I mean to find out very 
 shortly." 
 
 "How? I d like to know!" 
 
 "I am going to see the Prefect of Police at 
 once."
 
 142 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Mr. Stapleton sank into a chair, and groaned. 
 "I had hoped to have Jack with me by now. 
 His poor mother is distracted. Isn t there any 
 thing, Mr. Duvall, that you can do?" 
 
 "I hope to answer that question better, Mr. 
 Stapleton, after I have seen Monsieur Lefevre. 
 If this woman, and her companion, Valentin, are 
 really the kidnappers, they are in Paris, and we 
 shall be able to lay our hands on them without 
 difficulty. If they are not, your money, at least 
 is safe. I must leave you now; but as soon as 
 I learn anything, I will report to you at once. 
 Good night." 
 
 He left the house, more mystified than he had 
 ever been in his life. From the start, this case 
 had apparently been one in w T hich all the clues 
 led to absurd contradictions, or else to nothing 
 at all. 
 
 In fifteen minutes he was at the Prefecture. 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre sent out word that he would 
 be occupied for a few moments, and the detective 
 sat down as patiently as possible, to wait.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE events of the Versailles road left Grace 
 Duvall in a high state of good humor. 
 The plan she had suggested had been a 
 success at least so far as her own part in it 
 was concerned. How Monsieur Lefevre had 
 fared, she did not yet know. She looked down 
 at the brown paper package she held in her 
 hand, and ordered Valentin to drive to the Pre 
 fecture. 
 
 The day had been an eventful one. Immedi 
 ately after breakfast Grace had gone to Mr. 
 Stapleton s house and had a long interview with 
 Mrs. Stapleton. That lady, apparently quite 
 prostrated from worry and alarm over the fate 
 of her son, received her in her boudoir, where she 
 lay, a charming picture, upon a divan. 
 
 Grace had no more than entered the room, 
 when she detected the odor of cigarette smoke, 
 faint but unmistakable. She glanced at the table 
 which stood beside the divan upon which Mrs. 
 
 143
 
 144 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Stapleton lay. On it, a tiny porcelain ash receiver 
 contained a fluffy mass of gray-white ashes, and 
 the half smoked remains of a cigarette. The tip, 
 partly covered by the ashes, was of gold. 
 
 The girl engaged her hostess in a long conver 
 sation, quieting her fears, which seemed real 
 enough, and predicting the early recovery of her 
 boy. It was quite evident that Mrs. Stapleton 
 was terribly nervous. No doubt this accounted 
 for the cigarettes. Although Grace did not use 
 them herself, she knew how their quieting effect 
 on the nerves made them almost necessities, at 
 times, to their devotees. 
 
 Presently she observed that Mrs. Stapleton 
 held within her left hand, concealed beneath the 
 folds of her kimono, a small pasteboard box, 
 a box of cigarettes. Grace determined upon a 
 bold move. 
 
 "May I have one of your cigarettes, Mrs. 
 Stapleton?" she asked, in her sweetest manner. 
 "I ve forgotten to bring any with me and you 
 know how it is." 
 
 Mrs. Stapleton s features relaxed into some 
 thing approaching a smile. She had been lying 
 there wondering whether she dared offer one to 
 Grace, and thus be able to sooth her own over-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 145 
 
 strained nerves. She brought forth the box and 
 extended it toward her visitor. Grace took one 
 of the tiny cylinders and lit it. It was of the 
 same make as the one she had secured in Alphonse 
 F ale n tin s room! 
 
 She took her departure a little later, wonder 
 ing greatly. The whole affair had begun to take 
 on an air of baffling contradiction. 
 
 She spent the rest of the morning, and most 
 of the afternoon, searching the houses near 
 the point on the road to Versailles indicated by 
 Valentin. With her were three men from the 
 Prefect s office silent, able men, in plain clothes, 
 who pretended to be keepers from the Jardin 
 des Plantes, In search of a dangerous cobra, which 
 was supposed to have escaped from its cage the 
 night before. 
 
 The terrified householders threw open their 
 doors with unassumed alacrity. The suggestion 
 of a deadly reptile lurking in their gardens was a 
 veritable open sesame. Yet no traces of the miss 
 ing boy were found, and, more remarkable still, 
 Grace was unable to identify any of the many 
 gardens as the one in which she had seen the 
 child playing with the spaniel. This disappointed 
 her greatly. She knew well that, if Valentin was
 
 146 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 telling the truth, the garden was here; yet, al 
 though they visited every house within a quarter 
 of a mile, they were unable to locate it. She re 
 membered now that in her agitation, her eager 
 examination of the child, she had not fixed upon 
 her mind any salient point in the garden itself. 
 All that she remembered was a bit of grass, a 
 gravel walk, and the child playing with the dog. 
 A dozen of the little inclosures presented similar 
 features. She returned to the Prefecture, baffled. 
 
 "The fellow is undoubtedly lying," had been 
 Monsieur Lefevre s comment. "He is trying to 
 throw you off the track, in order to protect the 
 nurse, and possibly Mrs. Stapleton as well. I 
 should not be surprised to find that the boy s 
 mother is the guilty person." 
 
 Grace did not agree with him; so she said 
 nothing. In spite of the fact that Mrs. Staple- 
 ton used cigarettes similar to those which seemed 
 in some queer way to be at the bottom of the 
 mystery, she had an intuitive feeling that the 
 grief which the banker s wife showed was entirely 
 real. 
 
 At half past seven, Grace left the Prefecture 
 in a high-powered car, furnished by Monsieur 
 Lefevre. Alphonse Valentin was at the wheel.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 147 
 
 In her hand she held a pocket electric searchlight, 
 across the front of which had been affixed a cir 
 cular bit of blue glass. 
 
 At ten minutes to eight she arrived at Ver 
 sailles. She at once ordered Valentin to turn and 
 drive back toward Paris at moderate speed. She 
 did not take him into her confidence regarding 
 what she proposed to do, but kept a keen watch 
 for the car containing Mr. Stapleton. 
 
 Her plan had worked. Mr. Stapleton, seeing 
 her signal, had tossed her the package of money 
 she only hoped that the other part of her plan 
 had been carried out with equal success. 
 
 The other part of the plan had been this: 
 Monsieur Lefevre, who in build and general ap 
 pearance was not unlike Mr. Stapleton, was to 
 follow the latter s car in a machine of the same 
 make and general appearance. He was to be 
 driven by a chauffeur made up to resemble Fran 
 cois sufficiently to be mistaken for him in the 
 dim light of early evening. He himself was to 
 make such alterations in his appearance and dress 
 as would enable him to pass, under a cursory 
 examination, for Stapleton. In the bottom of the 
 car two armed men lay concealed. 
 
 When the car containing Mr. Stapleton turned
 
 148 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 back toward Paris, after having unwittingly de 
 livered the money to Grace, the Prefect would 
 continue on toward Versailles. He would know 
 that the car containing the kidnappers was still 
 ahead of him; since, had it not been, it, instead of 
 Grace s car, would have signaled Mr. Stapleton. 
 
 Grace had started out from Versailles es 
 pecially early, convinced that the kidnappers 
 would not leave there until eight, at least. In 
 this assumption she was correct. The car con 
 taining the kidnappers was, at that moment, 
 creeping toward Paris some two miles in her 
 rear, looking everywhere for Mr. Stapleton. 
 
 The Prefect pursued his way toward Versailles 
 in anxious expectancy. Each moment he thought 
 to see the blue signal flash from the various cars 
 which passed him. When it came, his men were 
 to spring up, and at once bring the other car to 
 a standstill by firing their guns, heavily charged 
 with buckshot, at its wheels. A punctured tire, 
 and the thing was done. His men, assisted by the 
 chauffeur, would then overpower the occupants 
 of the other car before they could realize what 
 had happened. In it they hoped to find the 
 child. 
 
 The plan was well conceived; but unfortunately
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 149 
 
 it did not work. Whatever the reason, none of 
 the cars which passed the Prefect on his way to 
 Versailles displayed the telltale blue light. All 
 seemed but peaceable automobilists, intent on 
 reaching Paris and its restaurants as quickly as 
 possible. Had his disguise been penetrated? He 
 could not believe it. He returned to the Pre 
 fecture in great disgust, wondering in what way 
 matters had gone wrong. 
 
 Grace was waiting for him, an eager smile 
 on her face. "Here is the money," she said, 
 placing the package on his desk. "Did you get 
 the men?" 
 
 "No." The Prefect flung himself into a chair. 
 "They did not signal." 
 
 "But why, I wonder?" The failure of her 
 plan was extremely annoying. 
 
 "I can think of but one reason. There must 
 have been some way in which these fellows knew 
 the Stapleton car when they approached it some 
 signal, perhaps, that I was unable to give." 
 
 "But no such signal was mentioned in the in 
 structions I brought to Mr. Stapleton. He gave 
 none, as we approached him. 
 
 "Did you observe anything peculiar about the 
 appearance of his car, anything that might have
 
 150 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 served as a clue to enable these fellows to recog 
 nize it, even in the dark, with certainty?" 
 
 Grace thought a moment, then her face felL 
 "There was one thing that I noticed as Mr. 
 Stapleton s car came up to us; but I am afraid 
 I failed to realize its significance at the time." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "The electric headlight on the side nearest to 
 me was working very badly. In fact, it seemed 
 to be almost out. The other was burning bril 
 liantly." 
 
 The Prefect sprang to his feet. "Sacre!" he 
 exclaimed. "Of course. The thing is as plain as 
 the nose on your face!" 
 
 "But who" 
 
 
 
 "Francois! The fellow is in this thing up to 
 his neck. He claims to have been asleep when 
 the boy was stolen. He drives the car which 
 brings you back, after your abduction. He, dis 
 guised, steals the box of cigarettes. He fixes the 
 lights so that the kidnappers are advised, not 
 only beyond any doubt that they are signaling 
 the right car, but that all is safe that Monsieur 
 Stapleton has no detectives or members of the 
 police hidden in his tonneau. The thing is per 
 fectly clear. Believe me, my child, had there
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 151 
 
 been anyone in that car with Mr. Stapleton, those 
 lights would have both been burning with equal 
 brightness, as mine were. They did not give 
 me the signal, when they passed me, because the 
 lights failed to tell them that all was well." 
 
 Grace looked up quickly. "Then, if that is 
 true, Frangois knew that Mr. Stapleton had 
 thrown the money into the wrong car." 
 
 "Undoubtedly, and by this time, no doubt, his 
 confederates know it as well. Naturally the 
 child has not been delivered. We are just where 
 we were before." 
 
 "You will arrest Francois at once, I suppose." 
 
 "No. It will be useless. By leaving him free, 
 we may learn something. By locking him up, 
 with no tangible evidence against him, we ac 
 complish nothing at all." 
 
 "Then what do you advise?" 
 
 "You will return the money to Mr. Stapleton 
 at once. You can tell him, if you wish, how it 
 came into your possession. He will be furious, 
 of course; but he must understand that the cap 
 ture of these scoundrels Is quite as important to 
 the city of Paris as the recovery of his son. We 
 have done our best, and failed. We must try 
 again."
 
 152 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Richard was at the Porte de Versailles," re 
 marked Grace, quietly. "He tried to stop my 
 car." 
 
 "Yes. I saw him. He is coming here at 
 once." 
 
 The girl rose, in nervous haste. "I must go, 
 then. It would be most unwise to have him find 
 me here." 
 
 There was a quick knock at the door. The 
 Prefect rose, and opened it; then turned to Grace 
 with a grim smile. "Your husband is waiting in 
 the anteroom," he whispered. 
 
 "But what shall I do?" 
 
 "Wait in here." Monsieur Lefevre opened 
 the door which led to his private office. "You 
 can hear everything quite plainly. From what 
 you tell me, I should not be surprised if he in- 
 cisted upon your arrest at once." 
 
 "It isn t fair to him. Poor Richard! I m 
 afraid he ll never forgive me for all this." 
 
 "Nonsense! You are engaged in a very laud 
 able attempt to recover Mrs. Stapleton s child. 
 So is he. Your interests are identical. Only," 
 he paused with a significant smile, "from my 
 standpoint, I should much prefer that the credit 
 for the boy s recovery should belong to the police
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 153 
 
 of Paris, of which you, for the time being, are 
 one." 
 
 Richard Duvall came into the Prefect s office, 
 somewhat ill at ease. The room, familiar to him 
 because of the events of the past, reminded him 
 forcibly of Grace who had, indeed been upon 
 his mind constantly for the past few days. It 
 was here, in this very room, that she had first 
 told him that she loved him during the exciting 
 pursuit of Victor Girard, and the million francs. 
 He gazed about at its familiar aspect, and 
 sighed. 
 
 "Sit down, my dear Duvall," said the Prefect, 
 shaking hands with him warmly. "What, may 
 I ask, brings you to Paris, at the cost of inter 
 rupting your honeymoon? I had supposed that 
 nothing could be of sufficient importance for that. 
 In fact, had I known you would consider it for 
 a moment, I should have cabled to you, to give 
 me your assistance in a most trying case." 
 
 "What case, Monsieur?" 
 
 "The mysterious kidnapping of the child of 
 Monsieur Stapleton." 
 
 "It is that very case that brings me to Paris. 
 I am in Mr. Stapleton s employ." 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre affected to be greatly sur-
 
 154 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 prised. "Is it possible, mon ami? That is bad 
 news indeed. This fellow Stapleton no longer 
 has confidence in my office. He retains you to do 
 that which he believes I shall fail to do. I am 
 sorry, my dear Duvall, that we are on opposite 
 sides of the fence." 
 
 "But, Monsieur, I did not know that you 
 wanted me. Mr. Stapleton is an old friend. I 
 could not refuse to come to his assistance." 
 
 Lefevre s eyes twinkled. "Have you made any 
 progress, then, my friend?" 
 
 "Yes. Tonight I put in operation a plan where 
 by I might identify an automobile containing the 
 kidnappers, into which Mr. Stapleton had been 
 directed to throw a package containing one hun 
 dred thousand dollars." 
 
 "Indeed. You interest me. And did you suc 
 ceed in identifying it?" 
 
 "I did. I stopped the car, at the Porte de Ver 
 sailles. I knew it to be the one into which the 
 money had been thrown. The car was driven by 
 a man named Alphonse Valentin, whom I have 
 every reason to suspect is concerned in this affair. 
 Its only other occupant was a woman whom I 
 met last night in Valentin s rooms, and who 
 brought Mr. Stapleton a message from the kid-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 155 
 
 nappers. This woman is, I believe, at the bot 
 tom of the whole thing." 
 
 "Indeed. And did you arrest her?" 
 
 "No. She claims to be an agent of your 
 office. Vernet, who was at the gates at my re 
 quest, refused to place her and her companion 
 under arrest. She got away with Mr. Stapleton s 
 money. I believe, Monsieur Lefevre, that you 
 are being made a fool of by a member of your 
 own staff." 
 
 The Prefect leaned over, and picked up the 
 package containing the money which lay upon his 
 desk. "I do not agree with you, my friend. Here 
 is Monsieur Stapleton s money." 
 
 Duvall started back in his chair, amazed. 
 "Good Lord, Chief, am I losing my senses? 
 What is this affair, anyway, a joke?" 
 
 "Far from it, Monsieur Duvall. The crim 
 inals are still at large. The boy is in their hands. 
 We must recover him." 
 
 "But this money " 
 
 "I arranged to get it, in order to prevent Mon 
 sieur Stapleton from making a fool of himself. 
 I wish to capture these men not to let them 
 blackmail him out of half a million francs." 
 
 "Had you not interfered, Monsieur Lefevre,
 
 156 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 they would have been in my hands, by now. I 
 would have had them safely the moment they 
 attempted to enter Paris. I knew their car." 
 
 The Prefect was filled with curiosity. "How?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "My means of a device with which Mr. Staple- 
 ton s car was equipped, the body of the one into 
 which he threw the money was spattered with red 
 paint. I could have identified it anywhere." 
 
 "My dear Duvall! I feel that I should beg 
 your pardon. Your plan was cleverness itself, 
 and I will admit that, had I not interfered, you 
 would in all probability have captured these men. 
 I did not know what you had done, of course. 
 Yet in their escape I have one consolation. It 
 would have been extremely distasteful to me, to 
 have had Mr. Stapleton boast that a private de 
 tective in his employ had succeeded, where the 
 police of Paris had failed." 
 
 "Then it would appear, Monsieur," said Du 
 vall somewhat stiffly, "that we are, in this matter 
 at least, in opposition." 
 
 "Let us rather say, my friend, in competition." 
 He placed his hand on Duvall s shoulder. "You 
 must not blame me, if I feel a pride in my office. 
 When you were working for the city of Paris,
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 157 
 
 you, too, felt that pride. I am truly sorry that 
 I have not the benefit of your services now. How 
 ever, I think you will admit, mon ami, that the 
 young woman who is handing this case is no mean 
 adversary." The Prefect regarded the detective 
 with a quizzical smile, behind which his eyes 
 twinkled merrily. 
 
 "Who is this woman?" asked Duvall, quickly. 
 
 "Her name is Goncourt Estelle Goncourt." 
 
 "A Frenchwoman?" 
 
 "Partly. I believe her mother was English." 
 The twinkle in his eye spread he smiled upon 
 the detective with expansive good humor. "Why 
 do you ask?" 
 
 "You will think it strange, perhaps, Monsieur 
 Lefevre, but when I first saw Miss Goncourt, she 
 reminded me strongly of my wife." 
 
 "Of Grace?" 
 
 "Yes. Have you not observed it?" 
 
 "Now that you speak of it, perhaps there is 
 something similar in the manner the carriage. 
 But your wife, my dear Duvall, is a blonde, while 
 Mademoiselle Goncourt is decidedly a brunette." 
 
 "Yes. Of course. But, nevertheless, the resem 
 blance is striking." He rose to go. "I hope, Mon 
 sieur, that this kidnapped boy may be restored
 
 158 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 to his father very soon. I am anxious to return 
 to America." 
 
 "What! Leave Paris so quickly? My dear 
 Duvall, I thought you Americans loved our city 
 so well, that you never wanted to leave it." 
 
 "Paris is all right, Monsieur; but," he laughed 
 heartily, "I must get back to my wife and my 
 farm. I was forced to leave in the very middle 
 of my spring plowing." 
 
 The Prefect roared. "You a farmer! Mon 
 Dieu ! How droll ! Potatoes, I suppose, and 
 chickens, and dogs, and pigs " 
 
 "Exactly and, believe me, Monsieur, they are 
 more to my liking, than all the gaieties of Paris. 
 Some day you must make us a visit, and see for 
 yourself." He turned toward the door. 
 
 "I shall, Duvall, I shall. But first we. have 
 to find this boy. What do you propose to do 
 next?" 
 
 Duvall smiled. "What do you?" he retorted. 
 
 "A bottle of champagne, my friend, and a din 
 ner at the Cafe Royale, that we find the child 
 before you do !" 
 
 "Done! Now I ll be off. Goodnight." 
 
 The Prefect was still laughing when Grace 
 peeped in from the private office, to find that
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 159 
 
 Richard had gone. "I think it s a shame to treat 
 him so," she said. "The poor fellow! And he 
 would have gotten the kidnappers, if we hadn t 
 interfered." 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre picked up the package con 
 taining Mr. Stapleton s money and placed it care 
 fully in his safe. "Tomorrow you must return 
 it to him," he said. "And then, I would suggest 
 that you keep a close watch upon Mrs. Stapleton. 
 My men have not been keeping her under sur 
 veillance. We have had no suspicions of her 
 whatever. She may, if she is concerned in this 
 matter, be imprudent enough to attempt to visit 
 the child." 
 
 "And if not?" 
 
 "Then watch Frangois. If nothing comes of 
 your efforts in either direction, I fear that we 
 must wait for the kidnappers to make the next 
 move. Of course there is Valentin " 
 
 "Valentin is innocent." 
 
 "How do you know that?" 
 
 "I have watched him. He did everything in 
 his power, tonight, to assist me. Had he been 
 in league with the kidnappers, he could, after he 
 knew that I had secured the money, easily have 
 driven the car to some quiet spot and taken it
 
 160 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 from me. I was waiting for some such move; 
 but he, as you know, did not attempt it. I am 
 sure that he is doing his best to assist us." 
 
 "In that event, perhaps you can induce him to 
 tell you the secret of the box of cigarettes. I feel 
 sure that this knowledge would go far toward 
 solving the entire affair." 
 
 "I ll have a talk with him tomorrow." 
 
 "Good! And now, if you are ready, we will 
 return home at once." 
 
 "Dear old Richard!" said Grace, as the Pre 
 fect helped her into his automobile. "I wish I 
 were with him tonight." 
 
 Lefevre smiled, and patted her hand. "So do 
 I, my dear. But, remember, you have only to 
 find Mr. Stapleton s child, and you can return to 
 your chickens and your cows with the knowledge 
 that you have done both his parents and myself 
 an inestimable service."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IX was close to eight o clock next evening 
 when Grace Duvall arrived at Mr. Staple- 
 ton s house with the package containing the 
 money. 
 
 She was accompanied, for safety, by two men 
 from the Prefecture, who escorted her to the 
 door. 
 
 She had paid a previous visit to the house, 
 during the forenoon; but Mr. Stapleton was not 
 at home, and she was informed that he would 
 not return until evening. 
 
 Mrs. Stapleton she saw again; but her talk 
 with the latter resulted in nothing. The poor 
 lady was in utter despair, after the fiasco of the 
 night before, and spent the day in her rooms, 
 weeping. 
 
 It was quite clear to Grace that her grief was 
 very real. She made up her mind that, whatever 
 the mystery of the gold-tipped cigarettes, Mrs. 
 Stapleton had nothing to do with it. Nor had 
 
 161
 
 162 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 the chauffeur, Valentin, been more communica 
 tive. He refused pointblank to explain the pres 
 ence of the cigarettes in his room, or the reason 
 why Mary Lanahan had written requesting him 
 to destroy them. He said that it was a matter 
 which concerned only the nurse and himself, and 
 assured Grace that an answer to her questions 
 would not assist in the least in recovering the 
 missing child. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton was awaiting her in the library 
 when she entered. The Prefect had telephoned 
 him, advising him that the money was safe, and 
 would be returned to him at once. Beyond that, 
 he knew nothing, except what Duvall had told 
 him the night before. Consequently he was in a 
 decidedly bad humor. 
 
 Grace laid the money on the table. "Here is 
 your hundred thousand dollars, Mr. Stapleton," 
 she said. 
 
 The irate banker glared at her. "I cannot 
 thank you for bringing it back, Miss," he growled. 
 "Did I not particularly request that the police 
 take no steps in the matter?" 
 
 "You did, Mr. Stapleton; but we acted for 
 what we thought to be your best interests." 
 
 "Hang your thoughts about my best interests!
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 163 
 
 I can take care of them. If you had let things 
 alone, I d have my boy back by now." 
 
 "And these men, these criminals, who stole him, 
 would be at liberty to do the same thing over 
 again tomorrow." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton was silent for a moment. "How 
 did the thing happen?" he presently asked. 
 
 Grace told him. "The real cause of our fail 
 ure, we believe, lies at the door of your chauffeur, 
 Francois." She explained the reasons for their 
 suspicions. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton seemed puzzled. "The fellow 
 seems honest enough." 
 
 "Where is he now?" Grace inquired. 
 
 "He asked permission to visit his people. As 
 I had no use for him this evening, I told him he 
 might go." 
 
 "Ah! In that event, we may learn something. 
 He is being closely watched." 
 
 As Grace spoke, a servant entered the room. 
 "There is a gentleman to see you, sir," he said 
 to Mr. Stapleton. 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 "He would not give his name. He said his 
 business was urgent." 
 
 "Where is he now?"
 
 164 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "In the reception room, sir." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton rose. "Excuse me a moment," 
 he said, and went into the adjoining room. 
 
 The library was separated from the reception 
 room by a short passageway, or alcove, in which 
 hung a pair of heavy curtains. Grace sat quietly, 
 waiting for Mr. Stapleton to return. Suddenly 
 she realized that she could distinctly hear what 
 was going on in the room adjoining. For a mo 
 ment she thought of going into the hall; then 
 a word or two caught her attention, and in a 
 moment she was close to the curtains, listening 
 intently to a most remarkable conversation. 
 
 The man who had asked to see Mr. Stapleton 
 stood in the reception room, near a broad window 
 overlooking the street without. He was tall and 
 somewhat heavily built; but what at once attracted 
 Grace s attention was his heavy black beard. She 
 recognized him at once as the man who had 
 broken into Valentin s room to steal the cigar 
 ettes, and had later driven the car which brought 
 her back to Paris after her abduction. 
 
 He was speaking to Mr. Stapleton in a quiet 
 and assured tone, as though discussing a topic of 
 no greater importance than the w r eather. 
 
 "Mr. Stapleton," he said, "I have your son in
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 165 
 
 my possession. He is quite safe. I gave you 
 an opportunity to have him returned to you last 
 night; but you did not avail yourself of it." 
 
 "I did my best," exclaimed the astounded 
 banker, mastering his desire to take the fellow by 
 the throat. 
 
 "That may be; yet my plans were interfered 
 with. You did not carry out my instructions." 
 
 "I did to the letter." 
 
 The man frowned. "It is useless to discuss 
 the matter now," he growled. "I come to give 
 you one more chance. It will be the last " 
 
 "You damned scoundrel!" 
 
 The man with the black beard held up his hand. 
 "It will avail nothing, Monsieur," he said, calmly, 
 "to excite yourself. If you want back your boy, 
 listen to what I have to say." 
 
 "Very well. Go ahead." 
 
 "First, I want no interference by the police, 
 or by the man Duvall, who is acting for you." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton drew back in astonishment. 
 "How do you know that Mr. Duvall is acting for 
 me?" he said. 
 
 "It is my business to know, Monsieur. Let it 
 suffice that I do know. If you hope ever to see 
 your child again, you had better listen to what
 
 166 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 I have to say, and carry out my instructions to the 
 letter." His voice was harsh, menacing. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton directed him by a gesture, to 
 proceed. He was too angry to speak. 
 
 "Tomorrow night at this hour eight o clock 
 I shall come here, to this house, and ask for 
 you. You will hand me a package containing one 
 hundred thousand dollars. I will examine the 
 money here, and satisfy myself that the amount 
 is correct. 
 
 "I shall then leave the house, and walk to the 
 Arc de Triomphe; which, as you know, is but a 
 short distance away. At the Arc de Triomphe, 
 I shall wait for an automobile, which will stop 
 for me. In that automobile I shall drive away. 
 If I get away safely without interference, there 
 will be telephoned to your house, within half an 
 hour, the address of the place where your boy 
 is to be found. If I do not get away safely, that 
 address will not be telephoned to you, and you 
 will not see your child alive again. This 
 is your last chance, Monsieur. It is most im 
 portant, I assure you, that nothing should hap 
 pen to prevent my safe departure tomorrow 
 night." 
 
 For a moment Grace was undecided as to how
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 167 
 
 she should act. She feared greatly, under the 
 circumstances, to make any move which would 
 endanger the safety of Mr. Stapleton s child. Yet 
 her duty, as an agent of the police, was clear. 
 She must use every effort to effect this man s cap 
 ture, before he left the house. 
 
 She knew that she could not reach the street 
 without passing the door of the reception room, 
 in which case both Mr. Stapleton and his caller 
 would see her. There was nothing to do but 
 telephone. She flew to a small alcove room which 
 opened off the rear of the library, in which she 
 knew the telephone instrument was located. Once 
 in this small room, she closed the door, for fear 
 the others might overhear her, then called up the 
 Prefecture. Monsieur Lefevre was out; but she 
 acquainted one of his assistants with the circum 
 stances, and requested him to send a man to the 
 house at once. 
 
 It would take at least ten minutes, perhaps 
 more, for the man from the Prefecture to reach 
 the house even though he came by automobile, as 
 he no doubt would. What should she do, to 
 keep the man in the reception room from leaving 
 before the police should arrive? 
 
 The question was solved for her, quite unex-
 
 168 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 pectedly. In opening the door of the small room, 
 to re-enter the library, she accidentally struck 
 against a chair. The sound aroused both Mr. 
 Stapleton and his visitor. The former, who had, 
 in his excitement, completely forgotten Grace s 
 presence, appeared at once in the doorway be 
 tween the two rooms. "Come here, Miss Gon- 
 court," he said sternly. 
 
 Grace entered the reception room. The man 
 with the black beard eyed her keenly. "Ah a 
 representative of the police, I believe. Our con 
 versation has been overheard, then, Monsieur 
 Stapleton?" 
 
 The banker was violently angry. He turned 
 to Grace. "You have heard?" he demanded. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then I insist that you do not interfere in 
 the matter in any way. I intend to get my boy 
 back this time, in spite of you all." 
 
 Grace made no reply. She saw the man w r ith 
 the black beard eying her keenly. "I think, 
 Monsieur, that I had better go," he remarked. 
 
 Grace regarded him with a level look. "You 
 cannot leave this house," she said. "It is being 
 watched. If you attempt to do so, I will give 
 the alarm."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 169 
 
 "And for what reason should I stay?" the man 
 inquired calmly. 
 
 "I have telephoned to the Prefecture. A man 
 will be here in a few minutes, to place you under 
 arrest. I advise you to remain here quietly until 
 he arrives." 
 
 The kidnapper strolled over to the window 
 which overlooked the Avenue Kleber, drew aside 
 the curtain, and looked out. Grace wondered 
 if he was making a signal of any sort to con 
 federates outside. He gazed into the street in 
 tently for a moment, then turned back toward the 
 center of the room. "I shall follow your advice, 
 Mademoiselle, and wait," he remarked, calmly. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton was speechless with rage. He 
 dared not do anything; for he knew that he would 
 only lay himself open to a charge of resisting the 
 police, and helping a criminal to escape. He sat 
 in his chair, inwardly cursing Grace and the en 
 tire police force of Paris as well. 
 
 None of the three spoke for a considerable 
 time. After what seemed to Grace ages, she 
 heard the faint ringing of the doorbell, and pres 
 ently the frightened servant arrived, with the 
 information that a detective from the Prefecture 
 was in the hall, and desired to see Mr. Stapleton
 
 170 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 immediately. He had scarcely succeeded in de 
 livering this message, when a heavily built man 
 in citizen s clothes shouldered past him into the 
 room. 
 
 He gazed quickly about. Grace did not re 
 member having ever seen him before. "I am 
 from the Prefect of Police," he announced, strid 
 ing toward the kidnapper. "I am here to arrest 
 this man." In a moment the click of the hand 
 cuffs, as he snapped them upon the wrists of the 
 man with the black beard, came to Grace s ears. 
 
 The kidnapper smiled pleasantly. "I am quite 
 ready to accompany you, my friend," he said. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton was regarding the scene in help 
 less rage. He resented bitterly the way in which 
 the police continually interfered with his plans to 
 get back his child. In one way, he was glad to 
 feel that the guilty man was under arrest; but, if 
 it resulted in the death of the missing boy, it 
 would be a tragedy, indeed. He turned to the 
 man with the black beard who stood, smiling, 
 near the door. "I hope you will understand," he 
 said, "that I have nothing to do with this matter 
 nothing whatever. The presence of this woman 
 here was a pure accident. I had forgotten that 
 she was in the next room. I d be glad enough to
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 171 
 
 see you put behind the bars for the rest of your 
 life; but not if it is going to prevent me from 
 getting back my child." 
 
 The man with the black beard continued to 
 smile pleasantly. "I believe you, my friend," he 
 said. "However, there is no harm done. When I 
 return tomorrow night for I shall return, de 
 pend upon it, in spite of the efforts of this gen 
 tleman," he waved his hand lightly toward the 
 man from the Prefecture, "I trust that you will 
 have persuaded Monsieur Lefevre, and your man 
 Duvall as well, to let me do so in peace. It is 
 the only way in which anything can be accom 
 plished I assure you of that." He turned to 
 his captor. "I am ready to accompany you, Mon 
 sieur." 
 
 The officer started toward the door leading 
 into the hall. He had taken but a single step 
 when the servant, with a frightened look upon 
 his face, appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Staple- 
 ton," he stammered, "there is a man here from 
 the office of the Prefect of Police." 
 
 Stapleton strode toward the door. "Another?" 
 he exclaimed. "What does this mean?" 
 
 The man in charge of the kidnapper stepped 
 forward, speaking in a quick, low tone. "Leave
 
 172 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 the matter to me, Monsieur, " he whispered. 
 "This fellow who has just arrived is an impostor, 
 a confederate. He pretends to be an agent 
 of the police, in order to rescue his comrade, who 
 has undoubtedly signaled to him from the win 
 dow. Be good enough to step into that room," 
 he pointed to the library, "and let me deal with 
 him." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton hesitated. "What do you pro 
 pose to do?" he asked. 
 
 "Quick!" said the other, offering no explana 
 tions. "He will be here at once." He turned 
 to the astonished servant. "Bring the man in." 
 
 The puzzled banker moved toward the adjoin 
 ing room. "You will accompany him, please," the 
 Prefect s man said to Grace. "There may be 
 danger." 
 
 "I am not afraid, Monsieur," replied Grace, 
 who did not entirely like the w r ay things were 
 going. 
 
 The man, however, paid no attention to her 
 remonstrances. "Go at once, I command you, 
 in the name of the law!" 
 
 She hesitated no longer, but followed Mr. 
 Stapleton into the library. As she did so, the 
 new arrival entered the reception room.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 173 
 
 The man with the black beard stood to one 
 side of the doorway. His captor advanced to 
 ward the newcomer. "I have him here," he ex 
 claimed, pointing to the kidnapper, "safely 
 ironed." 
 
 "Who are you?" curtly inquired the man who 
 had just entered the room. 
 
 "A private detective. Here is your man. Let 
 us get him out of here at once." 
 
 The official made no reply, but stepped quickly 
 up to the man with the black beard. "Come 
 along with me," he said, roughly, and placed his 
 hand upon the other s arm. 
 
 As he did so, the kidnapper shook his wrists 
 briskly. The handcuffs fell clattering to the floor. 
 Without a word he threw his powerful arms about 
 the neck of the astonished official, and throttled 
 him into instant silence. His companion, no less 
 quick, whipped out a handkerchief, and knotted it 
 about the official s mouth. He was unable to 
 utter a sound. 
 
 The whole thing was so quickly done that 
 Grace, who was watching the room through the 
 curtains in the doorway, had barely time to utter 
 a cry, before the newcomer was lying helpless 
 and silent upon the floor, choked into insensibility;
 
 174 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 while the two men, quite evidently confederates, 
 made ready to go. 
 
 The black-bearded fellow quickly replaced the 
 handcuffs upon his own wrists. "Quick, Ra- 
 mond," he cried. "Let us get out at once." 
 
 Grace was by this time in the room. She knew 
 that she must in some way prevent these men 
 from escaping. But how how? They glared 
 at her ominously. The younger man drew a 
 revolver. Before any of them could speak, the 
 servant appeared in the doorway for the third 
 time. His face was pale as death. His knees 
 knocked together from terror as he beheld the 
 gleaming revolver, the man lying upon the floor. 
 
 "Monsieur Duvall is here!" he gasped, and 
 stood silent. 
 
 The man on the floor, recovering his senses, 
 began to struggle to his feet. As he did so, Du 
 vall pushed his way past the frightened servant 
 and strode into the room. 
 
 "Quick, Monsieur Duvall!" the fellow with the 
 revolver cried. "I am from the Prefecture. I 
 have one of the kidnappers in irons. The other," 
 he pointed to the struggling man on the floor, 
 "is about to escape me. Give me your assistance 
 at once!"
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 175 
 
 Grace was so astounded by the sudden entrance 
 of her husband, as well as by the kidnapper s 
 words, that for a moment she remained speech 
 less. Duvall bent over the man upon the floor 
 and seized him by the throat. 
 
 "Richard! Richard!" Grace screamed, for 
 getful of Monsieur Lefevre and her own disguise. 
 "Look out!" 
 
 Almost before the words had left her lips, the 
 man with the revolver brought it down with a 
 dull thud upon Duvall s head as he bent over the 
 prostrate man; then, grasping his companion by 
 the arm, he rushed from the room. 
 
 "Richard! Richard!" screamed Grace, throw 
 ing her arms about the senseless body of her 
 husband. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton, who had entered the room, re 
 garded her in amazement. "What are you 
 doing?" he exclaimed. 
 
 Grace rose, her face white with suffering. "A 
 doctor, quick! He is hurt! My God don t you 
 see? He is hurt!" As she spoke, she fell back, 
 fainting, to the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 WHEN Richard Duvall returned to con 
 sciousness, an hour later, he lay upon 
 a couch in Mr. Stapleton s library. A 
 doctor, hastily summoned, was bending over him. 
 Mr. Stapleton sat grimly in an arm chair. There 
 was no one else in the room. 
 
 "My wife! Is she here?" the detective cried, 
 as he tried to rise. 
 
 The doctor pushed him gently back. "Com 
 pose yourself, Monsieur," he said in a soothing 
 voice. "You are not badly hurt. Merely stunned 
 for the moment. A slight cut that is all. You 
 will be quite yourself again in half an hour." 
 
 "But my wife!" He gazed eagerly about 
 the room. 
 
 "What do you mean, Duvall?" inquired Mr. 
 Stapleton, calmly. "Why do you think your wife 
 is here?" 
 
 "A trace of delirium. He will be all right in 
 
 176
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 177 
 
 a few moments. Very usual in such cases," the 
 doctor whispered. 
 
 "I heard her voice. She called to me by name, 
 just as that fellow struck me." 
 
 "My dear sir, your mind is wandering. Com 
 pose yourself, I beg." The doctor attempted to 
 press his patient back upon the pillows. 
 
 Duvall passed his hand over his forehead, com 
 pletely bewildered. "I could have sworn I heard 
 her voice," he cried. 
 
 "It was Miss Goncourt, the young woman from 
 the Prefecture, that you heard, Duvall," re 
 marked Mr. Stapleton quietly. He did not tell 
 the detective that Grace, on recovering from her 
 faint, and learning from the doctor that Rich 
 ard s wound was a superficial one only, and not 
 at all serious, had sworn them both to secrecy, 
 on the plea that the matter was a purely private 
 one, and likely to cause her great unhappiness 
 if divulged. Mr. Stapleton had agreed, but had 
 done so only upon her agreeing not to acquaint 
 the police with his plans for the following night. 
 
 She had suddenly conceived a violent animosity 
 toward these fellows who had not only baffled 
 both her husband and herself, but had made the 
 former a victim of a dangerous assault. She was
 
 178 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 determined to go to work in desperate earnest, 
 to capture them, or locate the child, before the 
 following evening. She had promised Mr. 
 Stapleton not to acquaint Monsieur Lefevre with 
 the plan for returning the child which the man 
 with the black beard had proposed. The situa 
 tion put her on her mettle. She determined to 
 get at the bottom of the whole affair before 
 another twenty-four hours had passed. Upon 
 leaving the house she called a taxicab, and at 
 once ordered the chauffeur to drive her to the 
 point on the Verseilles road where, according to 
 Valentin, she had been placed in the automobile 
 after her interview with the kidnappers. Here, 
 she believed, lay the starting point of the whole 
 mysterious affair. 
 
 Duvall, his consciousness returning, insisted 
 upon getting up from the couch, and going to 
 work with equal determination. The way in 
 which he had been checkmated, in the whole 
 affair, roused him, as well, to desperation. His 
 professional skill, upon which the banker had set 
 such great store, seemed to have deserted him. 
 He felt humiliated, ashamed. In three days, he 
 had accomplished nothing whatever. It was gall 
 ing in the extreme.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 179 
 
 Mr. Stapleton s explanations of his hallucina 
 tion regarding his wife he accepted as true. The 
 resemblance which Miss Goncourt bore to Grace, 
 together with his constant thoughts of her, were, 
 he argued, no doubt responsible for it. The 
 blow upon the head made his recollections of the 
 moments immediately preceding and following 
 the assault extremely hazy. He put the matter 
 out of his mind, and set to work with renewed 
 energy. 
 
 So far, it seemed, he had met with but a single 
 clue of any importance, the cigarette with the 
 gold tip which he had found in the Bois de Bou 
 logne. He determined to follow this clue until 
 he arrived at some definite result. 
 
 As soon as the doctor had departed after dress 
 ing the wound in his head, Duvall took a stiff 
 drink of brandy, and, sitting down with Mr. 
 Stapleton at the latter s desk, began to reconstruct, 
 as far as he could, all the details of the kidnap 
 ping. He spoke his thoughts aloud, taking Mr. 
 Stapleton into his confidence, since in this way 
 he could most readily get his ideas into concrete 
 form. 
 
 "Mr. Stapleton, I am, I confess, greatly humil 
 iated at the progress, or lack of progress, which
 
 180 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 I have made in this case so far. I have made up 
 my mind, however, to get these fellows, if it takes 
 me the rest of the summer." 
 
 "You will have to work more quickly than that, 
 Mr. Duvall," observed the banker coldly. "I 
 have made arrangements to recover my child by 
 tomorrow night." 
 
 "You are going to buy these rascals off, then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I decline to say. I ve had enough interference 
 with my plans already. Neither you nor the 
 police have accomplished anything. Miss Gon- 
 court knows what I propose to do; but she has 
 given me her word not to interfere. If you are 
 to accomplish anything, it must be before eight 
 o clock tomorrow night." 
 
 "Very well. I will make my plans accord- 
 ingly." 
 
 "What do you propose to do?" 
 
 "That I cannot say, at the moment. I think, 
 however, that I shall first try to find out who it 
 is that smokes these gold-tipped cigarettes." He 
 drew the fragment of cigarette which he had 
 found from his pocket, and placing it on the 
 desk before him regarded it critically.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 181 
 
 Mr. Stapleton gave a grunt. "What are they, 
 Exquisites?" 
 
 "Yes. How did you know?" 
 
 The banker laughed. "Easy enough. My wife 
 smokes them." 
 
 The detective looked up quickly. "Indeed! 
 Brings them from America with her, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Duvall began mentally to check off, in his mind, 
 the various persons who might have used the 
 cigarette w r hich lay before him. Valentin, he 
 now believed, was out of the question. His pres 
 ence in the automobile, with Grace, the night 
 before, indicated that he had nothing to do with 
 the kidnappers. 
 
 There remained Mrs. Stapleton. Duvall had 
 talked with her seen her grief. He was too 
 shrewd a judge of human nature to think for a 
 moment that it was assumed. 
 
 Who else? Suddenly an idea flashed into his 
 mind. He wondered that he had not thought of 
 it before. The nurse ! He recalled vividly the 
 marks he had observed on the dresser in the 
 woman s room in New York. 
 
 "Is Mary Lanahan in the house?" he inquired 
 of Stapleton.
 
 182 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Yes. Why?" 
 
 "Kindly have her come here." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton pressed a button on his desk in 
 silence. In a few moments, the nurse had been 
 brought to the room by one of the other servants. 
 She was haggard with grief and fear. 
 
 Duvall requested her to be seated, and began 
 to ask her a number of apparently unimportant 
 questions regarding the kidnapping. 
 
 She answered them frankly enough, although 
 it was clear that she was very ill at ease. 
 
 Presently Duvall got up, and, calling Mr. 
 Stapleton to one side, asked him, in a low tone, 
 to detain the nurse in the library for a few mo- 
 .ments. He wished to search her room. 
 
 "But it has already been thoroughly searched 
 by the police." 
 
 "I know. But I must search it again. It will 
 require but a few moments." 
 
 Stapleton nodded. "I will wait for you here, 
 Mr. Duvall," he said. "Mary, you will wait, 
 as well." 
 
 The nurse s room was on the third floor, in a 
 rear building. Duvall found it, after some slight 
 difficulty, with the assistance of one of the other 
 servants.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 183 
 
 He seemed, on entering the room, to have but 
 one object in view. He went at once to the man 
 tel, and, taking from it the two small bottle-shaped 
 vases which stood upon it, shook them both vig 
 orously. A faint rattling sound came from the 
 second. He turned it upside down upon the 
 palm of his hand, and there tumbled out a 
 quantity of ashes, and the butts of several 
 partly smoked cigarettes. With a quiet smile he 
 replaced them in the vase, and returned to the 
 library. 
 
 "Mary, you may go now," he said. 
 
 When the woman had gone, he turned to Mr. 
 Stapleton. "It was Mary Lanahan herself who 
 smoked the cigarette which I found in the grass," 
 he said. 
 
 "Well, what of it?" The matter seemed to 
 the banker to be utterly without significance. 
 
 "She had, no doubt, stolen them from Mrs. 
 Stapleton." 
 
 "Very likely. Not a very serious matter, how 
 ever." 
 
 "No. But the question now arises, Why did she 
 turn the box over to Valentin, and subsequently 
 ask him to destroy it?" 
 
 "I cannot imagine."
 
 184 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "And why, later, were these cigarettes stolen 
 from Valentin, as I understand they were?" 
 
 u lt s too much for me. What do you make 
 of it?" 
 
 "I have a theory, Mr. Stapleton; but I cannot 
 say just what it is yet. By the way, where is 
 your man, Francois, tonight?" 
 
 "He is visiting his people, somewhere in the 
 suburbs." 
 
 "Ah! Then I would like to search his room, 
 as well." 
 
 "Go ahead. You will find nothing, I fear. 
 The police have gone over it with a fine-tooth 
 comb." He rose. "Come along, I ll go with you." 
 
 The room occupied by the chauffeur was at the 
 very top of the house, with two windows opening 
 through the slanting mansard roof. One of 
 these, Duvall noted, commanded a view over the 
 houses adjoining toward the north, beyond which 
 could be seen the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. 
 A second window, toward the south, commanded 
 an extensive view toward Passy. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton, puffing because of the unaccus 
 tomed stairs, sat down upon the bed. "I cannot 
 imagine what you hope to find here, Duvall," he 
 grumbled.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 185 
 
 The detective made no reply, but began a sys 
 tematic inspection of the room. One of the first 
 objects which attracted his attention was an or 
 dinary electric searchlight, of the pocket variety, 
 lying on the man s dresser. He picked it up, and 
 examined it carefully. 
 
 "I got it for Frangois," observed Mr. Staple- 
 ton, "so that he could examine the car, at night, 
 in case of any accident or repair." 
 
 "Of course. Very useful, too. But why, I 
 wonder, does he keep it here in his room, instead 
 of in the garage?" 
 
 "Possibly to light himself up the stairs, at 
 night," said Stapleton. 
 
 "Then I should think he would have it with 
 him," remarked Duvall, dryly. "Wouldn t be 
 of much use to him tonight, for instance." He 
 was about to put the thing down, when his at- 
 ention was attracted by two objects, hanging one 
 on each side of the dresser, from its two uprights. 
 They were apparently Christmas tree ornaments, 
 made of thin glass, and they hung from the back 
 of the dresser by means of two bits of ribbon. 
 
 They seemed at first glance to be merely sou 
 venirs of some party, some entertainment, which 
 the chauffeur had preserved as mementos of the
 
 186 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 occasion. They were shaped like little cups, with 
 a paper fringe about the top, to which the gay rib 
 bons were attached. Duvall had seen such orna 
 ments often before, at Christmas time. They were 
 intended to be hung from the tree by their ribbons, 
 and were filled with small candies or bonbons. 
 He had almost passed them by, when something 
 in their colors caused him to pause. One was a 
 deep blue, the other an equally deep red. He 
 examined the wooden uprights of the dresser 
 with great care. All along the top of the dresser 
 at its back was a heavy coating of dust. The top 
 of the uprights, over which the loops of ribbon 
 which supported the little baskets had been 
 passed, contained no dust whatever. 
 
 Evidently the baskets had been taken down, 
 and that too quite recently. For what purpose? 
 he wondered. Suddenly he had an inspiration. 
 He took down the little blue basket, and quickly 
 placed it over the end of the searchlight. It 
 fitted perfectly, the paper collar at its top holding 
 the glass hemisphere snugly in place. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton was watching Duvall without 
 particular interest. Suddenly the detective pointed 
 the searchlight toward him and pressed the but 
 ton which threw on the current. Mr. Stapleton
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 187 
 
 started back, as his face was flooded with a beam 
 of brilliant blue light. 
 
 Duvall replaced the little basket in the same 
 position in which he had found it, and laid the 
 searchlight upon the dresser. "Rather neat, 
 isn t it?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "What do you make of it?" asked the banker. 
 
 "YouT man Frangois evidently is in the habit 
 of making signals," the detective replied, laugh 
 ing. He was beginning to feel hopeful. The 
 search of the two rooms was bearing fruit. 
 
 For the next half-hour, Duvall went over the 
 contents of the chauffeur s room with the utmost 
 care. He removed and replaced, just as he found 
 them, the contents of the dresser drawers. He 
 opened a small wooden trunk which stood at one 
 side of the room, and examined its contents mi 
 nutely. He explored the closet, looked behind the 
 pictures, sounded the walls. Nothing further of 
 an unusual nature rewarded his efforts. Still he 
 seemed unsatisfied. 
 
 "What more can you hope to find, Mr. Du 
 vall?" inquired the banker, who had begun to 
 find the proceedings tiresome. 
 
 The detective stood in the center of the room, 
 and glanced about in some perplexity. "I had
 
 188 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 hoped to find one thing more," he said; "but 
 I am afraid it isn t here." 
 
 Suddenly he strode over to the mantel, upon 
 which stood a small nickel-plated alarm clock of 
 American make. 
 
 "This clock doesn t seem to be going," he re 
 marked, then whipped out his magnifying glass 
 and carefully studied the brass handle which pro 
 jected from the back, by which it was wound up. 
 "It hasn t been wound for several days, either. 
 The back is covered with dust." He picked up 
 the clock and tried to wind it; but the handle re 
 sisted his efforts. 
 
 In an instant he took out his knife, and a mo 
 ment later was removing the screws which held 
 the metal back of the clock in place. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton watched him curiously. Duvall s 
 methods savored, to him, of the accepted sleuth 
 of fiction. He took little stock in the tiny clues 
 upon which the whole modern science of crim 
 inology is built. 
 
 In a few moments the detective had removed 
 the screws and lifted out the rear plate of the 
 clock. As he did so, he gave a grunt of satis 
 faction. A small pasteboard box fell out upon, 
 the mantel.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 189 
 
 "What is it?" asked Stapleton. 
 
 "The box of cigarettes," remarked Duvall, as 
 he opened it. "There are three missing. I shall 
 take a fourth." He selected one of the paper- 
 covered tubes, placed it within his pocketbook, 
 then thrust the box back into the clock, and rapidly 
 replaced the metal plate. 
 
 "I don t think there is anything further to be 
 done here, Mr. Stapleton," he remarked. "I 
 think I ll be getting along to my room. Tomor 
 row I shall be quite busy." 
 
 He stopped for a moment, on his way out, to 
 glance from the window which faced toward the 
 north. Between the buildings and trees ran the 
 Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, its course illumi 
 nated by many street lamps, and the flashing lights 
 of passing motor cars. Duvall gazed intently at 
 the scene before him for a few moments, then 
 turned to the door, and, accompanied by Mr. 
 Stapleton, descended the stairs. 
 
 As he was about to leave the house, the banker, 
 who evidently had something on his mind, stopped 
 him. 
 
 "Mr. Duvall," he said, earnestly, "I would 
 like very much to know what you intend to 
 do."
 
 190 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "I m going to catch these fellows, if I possibly 
 can," the detective replied, earnestly. 
 
 "What steps do you propose to take?" 
 
 "I cannot exactly say yet. Why do you 
 ask?" 
 
 "I ll tell you. The fellow who was here to 
 night, the one with the black beard, is coming to 
 see me tomorrow night, at eight o clock. I can 
 not tell you more than that. I did not intend to 
 tell you that much but I am obliged to do so." 
 
 "Obliged! Why?" 
 
 "Because I want your promise that you will 
 make no attempt to stop him. If I had said noth 
 ing, you might have watched the house, and, upon 
 recognizing the fellow as the one who was here 
 tonight, have placed him under arrest. I want 
 you to do nothing to interfere with either his 
 coming or his going. He will be safe, after he 
 once leaves the Arc de Triomphe in his automo 
 bile." 
 
 "But the police?" 
 
 "They know nothing of the matter. Miss Gon- 
 court has given me her word to remain silent. 
 She has even agreed to have the men on watch 
 about the house withdrawn. Both you and the 
 police may do your best to catch this man, after
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 191 
 
 I have carried out my compact with him; but until 
 then I want you to keep your hands off." 
 
 Duvall was silent for a moment. "Very well, 
 Mr. Stapleton, I shall do as you say. In fact, 
 to assure you that I am carrying out your wishes, 
 I will agree to remain here with you, at the 
 house, throughout the evening." 
 
 "Good! I shall expect you. Good night." 
 
 "Good night." Duvall left the house, and went 
 at once to his hotel. 
 
 Here, a few moments later, he seated himself 
 in an easy chair, and taking from his pocket the 
 cigarette which he had secured in the chauffeur s 
 room, regarded it critically. 
 
 After some little time, he took a match from 
 a box upon a nearby table, and, placing the gold 
 tip of the cigarette between his lips, carefully lit 
 it. 
 
 He drew the smoke into his lungs, inhaling it 
 deeply. Once twice three times he repeated 
 the operation, then threw himself back into his 
 chair, and, closing his eyes, sat buried in thought. 
 In his preoccupation, he allowed the end of the 
 cigarette to fall unheeded to the floor. 
 
 After many minutes he opened his eyes and 
 started up. "I ve got it!" he cried, and, picking
 
 192 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 up the half-burned cigarette from the floor, threw 
 it carelessly into the fireplace. 
 
 Then he sat down at his table, drew out a 
 sheet of paper and a map of the city of Paris, 
 and began to make a series of drawings and cal 
 culations that occupied him far into the night.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IT was nearly ten o clock when the taxicab 
 containing Grace Duvall stopped alongside 
 the road, at a point some four miles beyond 
 the city, in the direction of .Versailles. She had 
 been unable to give the driver the exact location 
 at which she desired to be put down, but had 
 directed him to drive on until she told him to 
 stop. 
 
 The spot was quite familiar to her, owing to 
 the hours she had spent in the vicinity with the 
 searching party the day before. 
 
 The taxicab driver seemed rather surprised to 
 see her alight at this somewhat lonely spot; but 
 he shrugged his shoulders with true Parisian in 
 difference, pocketed the tip she gave him, and 
 drove rapidly off in the darkness. 
 
 Left to herself by the roadside, Grace began 
 to fear that she had, after all, done a rather 
 foolish thing. Now that she was here, she hardly 
 knew how to begin. 
 
 193
 
 194 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 All about her she saw the dark outlines of 
 cottages among the trees, with here and there a 
 straggling light which betokened some household 
 late in getting to bed. The country people in 
 this vicinity growers of flowers and vegetables 
 or dairymen for the most part were asleep with 
 their cows about the time that Paris began to 
 dine. 
 
 Occasionally the silence about her was broken 
 by the mournful howling of a dog; but otherwise 
 all was still. 
 
 The night was cloudless, and the lightening of 
 the sky toward the east told her that before long 
 a moon would rise above the trees. 
 
 Near the road she found a little rustic bench, 
 and upon this she sat down to think. 
 
 The howling of the dog had suggested to her 
 mind a possible clue to the house within which 
 Mr. Stapleton s boy had been, for a time at least, 
 confined. She could remember nothing of the 
 garden, and but little of the room in which she 
 had been confined; but the dog, playing upon the 
 grass with the child, had fixed itself in her mem 
 ory. She recollected distinctly that he was a 
 poodle, mostly black, with fine curling hair, like 
 astrakhan fur, and a pointed nose.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 195 
 
 There were many dogs of this sort, she well 
 knew, and yet there was one peculiarity which 
 had impressed itself upon her memory, which 
 would inevitably serve to identify this particular 
 dog, should she ever see him again. His long 
 and bushy tail, black for the most part like the 
 rest of his body, terminated in a plume of white 
 hair. 
 
 It was a most unusual marking in a French 
 poodle. She had never seen it before, and she 
 was a great lover of dogs, and knew them thor 
 oughly. It was this fact, no doubt, which had 
 caused her to notice the animal, at a time when 
 her mind was filled with matters of vastly greater 
 importance. 
 
 She had sought carefully for such a dog, on 
 the occasion of the previous search, but had not 
 found him. The tale about the escaped cobra 
 had caused the country folk to lock up their pets 
 without loss of time. 
 
 Now she hoped to find this dog, and through 
 him discover the location of the house in which 
 she had been confined. After that well, she 
 would do the best she could. 
 
 It occurred to her that she was not at all 
 likely to discover the whereabouts of the black
 
 196 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 poodle by sitting here on a bench; yet she dared 
 not start out until the moon had risen sufficiently 
 high to light up her way. 
 
 In about an hour, the rim of the golden disk 
 showed itself above the treetops, and a little 
 later the black shadows about her began to grow 
 luminous, and resolve themselves into white- 
 walled cottages, hedges, and outbuildings of va 
 rious sorts. 
 
 A narrow lane ran off from the main road, 
 bordered on each side by lindens and poplars. 
 
 Along this lane the houses of the little hamlet 
 were set, some near the road, others quite a dis 
 tance back. She rose, and began to walk slowly 
 along the lane. 
 
 As she had expected, dogs of various sorts and 
 sizes, to judge by their voices, began barking as 
 soon as she came opposite the first house. A 
 small fox terrier ran through the gateway of a 
 garden, yelping sharply. The deep-toned bay 
 ing of a hound sounded farther up the street. 
 A small white poodle, and a black one of the 
 same size, ran after her, as slie went along, 
 making friendly attempts to play. The one she 
 sought, however, seemed nowhere in evidence. 
 
 The lane ascended a gently sloping hill, at the
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 197 
 
 top of which stood a house, somewhat larger 
 than the others, whose outbuildings and pastures 
 proclaimed it to be a dairy farm. There was a 
 hedge of roses along the roadside, and a little 
 wooden gate. 
 
 Grace heard a sharp bark on the other side 
 of the gate as she passed it, and, stopping, glanced 
 over. In the shadow stood a black poodle; but 
 whether his tail showed the markings for which 
 she sought she was unable to tell on account of 
 the darkness. She gave the gate a gentle push, 
 and it slowly opened. The dog ran out into the 
 road. As he crossed a patch of moonlight, she 
 saw that her search was ended. This, she was 
 convinced, was the dog and the house ! 
 
 Her next problem was how to get inside. Try 
 as she would, she could think of no excuse which 
 would adequately account for her presence in this 
 little frequented locality at such a time of night. 
 That the occupants of the house had long ago 
 retired was evidenced by the blackness of the 
 windows, the silence which brooded over the 
 whole place. 
 
 She looked about her. Just across the lane 
 from the little gate a building loomed formless 
 against a shadowy clump of trees. She went over
 
 198 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 to it, and found that it was a small shed. The 
 door stood open. Inside stood a tumbledown old 
 wagon, dust covered, and quite evidently unused 
 for a long time. The shelter of the shed seemed 
 grateful as though she had arrived somewhere, 
 instead of being a wanderer in the night. 
 
 There seemed nothing to do, now, but wait for 
 daylight. She climbed into the creaking wagon 
 and sat upon the seat. There was a back to it, 
 which, like the seat, was covered with old and 
 torn velveteen. She leaned back in the shadow 
 and closed her eyes. Her walk, the night air, 
 had made her tired. In the distance she 
 heard, after a long time, the faint booming 
 of a bell. She looked at her watch. It was mid 
 night. 
 
 The next thing that Grace remembered was the 
 loud barking of a dog. She sat up, feeling stiff 
 and cold. Her neck and left shoulder ached pain 
 fully. A glance through the open door of the 
 shed told her that it was still night; but there was 
 a gray radiance in the air, a soft pale light, that 
 betokened the coming of dawn. 
 
 She crept stiffly down from the wagon, and 
 again consulted her watch. It marked the hour 
 of four. Through a dusty window in the side
 
 THE^BLUE LIGHTS 199 
 
 of the shed she saw the eastern sky, rose streaked 
 and bright, heralding the sun. 
 
 As the light increased, she saw the dog that 
 had disturbed her sleep running about on the 
 grass in front of the house opposite. The house 
 seemed much nearer, in the daylight, than it had 
 appeared at night. She examined the dog closely. 
 The white tip of his tail, waving gaily in the morn 
 ing light, showed her that it was the one she had 
 sought. 
 
 She crouched in the dim shadow of the half- 
 open door and watched the scene before her. 
 There was a man, moving about among the small 
 buildings to the right. She heard him perform 
 ing some task she could not at first make out 
 what. Presently the lowing of cattle, the rattle 
 of a bucket, as it was drawn up by a creaking 
 windlass, told her that the man was tending his 
 cows. 
 
 Quite half an hour later she saw him going 
 toward the house, a pail, evidently well filled, in 
 each hand. 
 
 Then ensued another long silence. The curl 
 ing wisp of smoke from the chimney of the cot 
 tage indicated breakfast, and Grace suddenly 
 realized that she felt cold, and hungry. For the
 
 200 THE [BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 first time in her life she realized how important 
 one s breakfast is, in beginning the day. 
 
 Presently the man reappeared and went toward 
 a small building which Grace took to be the barn. 
 She could see him clearly now; for the sun had 
 risen above the trees and lit up the whole scene 
 brilliantly. He was a small, wizened man, with 
 gray hair and a slight stoop. She was quite cer 
 tain that she had never seen him before. 
 
 He went to the barn, and she saw that he was 
 engaged in harnessing a horse, which he presently 
 attached to a farm wagon. She noted the wagon 
 particularly. It was a low two-wheeled affair, 
 with a dingy canvas top. A large patch in the 
 canvas showed yellow-white in the sunlight. The 
 horse was white. 
 
 In a little while the man began to put in the 
 cart a variety of objects which he brought from 
 the barn. They appeared to be baskets of vege 
 tables or fruit, and cans of milk. Presently he 
 stopped, and went toward the house. In a few 
 minutes he returned. This time a woman was 
 with him. They carried between them a large 
 wicker basket, which appeared to be quite heavy. 
 There was a top on the basket. Grace wondered 
 if it could be filled with laundry.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 201 
 
 The couple placed the basket in the wagon, 
 putting it in from the front, so that it occupied 
 a position close beside the driver. In getting it 
 up over the wheel the woman let her end of it 
 slip, and the man cursed her with such sudden 
 sharpness that Grace was startled and crouched 
 back into the shed. She wondered what the 
 basket could contain, that made the man so care 
 ful, and the thought came to her, might it not 
 be Mr. Stapleton s boy? 
 
 The idea possessed her completely. As the 
 man drove out into the lane, and rattled down 
 the hill toward the main road, she suddenly real 
 ized that she must follow; yet how could she 
 hope to do so, on foot? The woman had gone 
 back into the house. Regardless of consequences, 
 Grace ran out into the lane, and after the wagon 
 at full speed. 
 
 When she reached the main road the vehicle 
 had already turned into it and was some distance 
 away, headed for Paris, at a speed which, slow 
 for a horse, was still much faster than she could 
 possibly walk. 
 
 She looked up and down the road helplessly. 
 There were several other wagons approaching, 
 all going in the same direction cityward. She
 
 202 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 realized that they were country people, farmers, 
 taking their vegetables and flowers to the mar 
 kets. 
 
 The first one to reach her was driven by a 
 buxom-looking young woman, wearing a plaid 
 shawl. Grace hailed her. "Will you be so good, 
 Madame, as to take me to Paris?" 
 
 The woman glanced at her shrewdly. "I have 
 a heavy load, Mademoiselle," she replied. Her 
 voice was cold, uninterested. 
 
 "I will pay you five francs " 
 
 The words had barely left Grace s lips, be 
 fore the woman had pulled up her horse. "Five 
 francs, Mademoiselle? That is another matter. 
 Get in." 
 
 Grace clambered up beside the woman and 
 glanced down the road ahead. The canvas-cov 
 ered wagon was still in sight mounting a hill 
 some three or four hundred yards ahead. 
 
 The woman looked at her curiously, noting 
 her dress, her hands, her shoes. "You are not 
 of the country, Mademoiselle," she remarked, 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "No. I belong in Paris." She turned to her 
 companion. "I should like to return there as 
 quickly as possible."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 203 
 
 "My Susette does not care to go above a walk," 
 the woman remarked, gazing at her horse, plod 
 ding along with mechanical steps, as though ut 
 terly unconcerned as to whether or not they ever 
 reached Paris. The wagon ahead was now out 
 of sight, over the brow of the hill. 
 
 "Would you like to make a louis?" Grace 
 took a gold piece from her purse and held it in 
 the sunlight. It glistened brightly. 
 
 The woman drew back, regarding her com 
 panion suspiciously. "A louis? Who would not? 
 What do you mean, Mademoiselle?" 
 
 "There is a wagon ahead of us, a canvas-cov 
 ered wagon, with a white horse. I am following 
 it. If you will keep that wagon in sight until 
 we get to Paris, I will give you this louis." 
 
 She turned the gold piece about, making it 
 sparkle in the sun. The woman glanced first 
 at her face, then more carefully at the coin, then, 
 reaching over, took it in her fingers, and raised 
 it to her mouth. Grace wondered what she was 
 about to do. In a moment she had sunk her teeth 
 into It, then returned it to her companion. "It 
 shall be as you say, Mademoiselle," she exclaimed 
 as she pulled in the reins. "Allons, Susette!" 
 
 The horse, evidently awakened from his morn-
 
 204 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 ing dreams, started forward with a suddenness 
 which almost precipitated Grace from her seat. 
 The trees along the roadside began to fly past 
 them. In ten minutes they were close behind 
 the canvas-covered wagon, now moving along at 
 a brisk pace. 
 
 When they reached the fortifications, the two 
 wagons were separated by not more than a dozen 
 feet. Grace s companion glanced at her sharply. 
 "From here I go to Grennelle, Mademoiselle," 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 Grace looked at the wagon ahead. "FolloTV 
 it, please," she said. "I will give you another 
 five francs." 
 
 The woman obeyed in silence. The wagon in 
 front of them headed off toward the northwest, 
 going In the direction of Passy. Before a great 
 while it crossed the Pont de Passy, turned into 
 the Rue Nicolo, and came to a stop before a 
 small brick house, standing in a little garden. 
 
 Grace jumped down at the corner, after giving 
 the woman the louis and the additional five francs. 
 "Thank you," she said, and started slowly up the 
 street. 
 
 The wagon with the canvas cover stood quietly 
 alongside the curb. The old man who drove it
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 205 
 
 had approached the door of the house, and was 
 ringing the bell. 
 
 Presently one of the windows on the top floor 
 was thrown open, and a man s head was thrust 
 out. Grace could not see his face clearly. He 
 looked down at the man at the door, who at the 
 same time looked up. The window was instantly 
 closed, and a few moments later the door of the 
 house opened and the man came out. 
 
 He stood talking with the driver in low tones 
 for a few moments. Grace had walked on up 
 the street, fearing to attract attention. Looking 
 back, she saw that the two men were gazing after 
 her. She dared not turn her head again, but at 
 the next corner turned into a cross street. Then 
 she stopped, and cautiously peered around the 
 corner. The two men had gone to the wagon 
 and were lifting out the large basket. A few 
 moments later they disappeared with it into the 
 house. 
 
 After a time, the old man returned with the 
 basket in his hands. From the way he carried it 
 Grace could see that it was empty. Fie tossed 
 it carelessly into the wagon, mounted the seat, 
 and drove off. 
 
 Grace looked at her watch. It was half past
 
 206 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 seven. She felt cold and hungry, and determined 
 to get something to eat at once. A little pastry 
 cook s shop and restaurant on the opposite side 
 of the street attracted her attention, and she 
 crossed over, entered, and ordered rolls and cof 
 fee. She could see the windows of the house into 
 which the two men had carried the basket, from 
 where she sat. 
 
 She scarcely knew what to do next. It seemed 
 . almost certain that Mr. Stapleton s child was in 
 the house across the way, and yet it was merely 
 an intuition, a guess, which might turn out to 
 be entirely wrong. Yet she feared to go away, 
 not knowing at what moment the child, if he was 
 indeed there, might be taken elsewhere, and the 
 clue hopelessly lost. 
 
 She finished her rolls and coffee, taking as 
 much time to consume them as she could. She 
 had just made up her mind to go, when the door 
 of the house across the street opened, and a man 
 came out. He was dark, and heavily built, and 
 dressed in the costume affected by artists. He 
 headed directly for the pastry shop, and Grace 
 realized that he was about to enter it. 
 
 She turned her face away, fearing lest he might 
 have noticed her, as she walked up the street.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 207 
 
 He did not even glance in her direction, however, 
 but went at once to a counter at the rear of the 
 place. 
 
 The proprietor came up to him with q, smile, 
 rubbing his hands together cheerily. "Ah ! 
 Monsieur Durand. Up early this morning, I 
 see. What can I do for you?" 
 
 She did not catch the other s reply, nor did she 
 dare to glance at his face. She shrank back into 
 her corner, and, picking up a newspaper which 
 lay in the window sill, began to read. 
 
 The new customer remained but a few mo 
 ments. When he left, Grace saw that he carried 
 a large paper bag with him, which appeared to 
 contain rolls or bread. 
 
 He again entered the house, but this time re 
 mained inside but a few moments. A little later 
 she left the shop, and watched him as he dis 
 appeared down the street. 
 
 For half an hour she walked about, wondering 
 whether she should telephone Monsieur Lefevre 
 now, or wait until she had made certain that the 
 whole affair was, after all, not a wild goose chase! 
 Suddenly she was seized with a new determina 
 tion. She went boldly up to the house, and rang 
 the bell.
 
 208 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 In a few moments a sleepy-looking maid 
 opened the door, eying Grace with lazy indiffer 
 ence. 
 
 "I wish to see Monsieur Durand," the latter 
 said. 
 
 "He s out." 
 
 "Then I must wait. I am a model. He in 
 structed me to come at eight o clock, and to wait 
 until he returned." 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders, and pointed 
 to the stairs. "Top floor front," she grumbled, 
 and turned away. 
 
 Grace lost no time in getting up the stairs. To 
 her surprise, the door of the studio, upon which 
 was a card bearing Monsieur Durand s name, was 
 unlocked. She pushed her way boldly in, and 
 looked about. The room was scantily furnished, 
 and contained little besides a couple of modeling 
 stands, several large plaster figures and casts, two 
 chairs, and a couch, evidently used as a bed. At 
 the rear of the room was a closet. She turned 
 to it and threw it open. It contained only an 
 assortment of clothes. 
 
 She felt completely baffled. There was no pos 
 sible place, here, in which the child she was seek 
 ing could be hidden. Evidently she had been on
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 209 
 
 the wrong track. And yet what had the wicker 
 basket contained? 
 
 Suddenly she stopped, quivering with excite 
 ment. From somewhere in the room she could 
 not tell where there came a low sobbing sound, 
 as of a child, crying to itself. It vibrated through 
 out the room, at one moment close to her ears, 
 the next far off, intangible, like a whispered 
 echo. She stood, listening, every nerve tense with 
 excitement, and still that low sobbing went on, 
 coming from nowhere, evanescent as a dream. 
 
 The thing seemed unreal, horrifying. She 
 gazed about helpless. Then she heard the front 
 door of the house suddenly slam, followed by the 
 sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RICHARD DUVALL rose, the following 
 day, with a less troubled mind than at 
 any time since his arrival in Paris. 
 
 His calculations of the night before had 
 brought him to a definite conclusion. 
 
 After breakfasting in the cafe of the hotel he 
 returned to his room, and rang up Monsieur 
 Lefevre. 
 
 "I want the assistance of one of your men, 
 Monsieur," he said. 
 
 "Ah!" laughed the Prefect. "You are what 
 you Americans call up a tree, is it not?" 
 
 "Not at all. You have said that there existed 
 between us a competition, to recover Mr. Staple- 
 ton s child. I think I am going to win. But since 
 I am not in a position to make the necessary ar 
 rests, myself, I am going to share the glory with 
 you, my dear friend, by allowing one of your 
 men to do so for me." 
 
 "So you are confident?" 
 
 210
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 211 
 
 "Reasonably so. Can you spare Vernet for the 
 day. He is a good man." 
 
 "One of my best. You shall have him. And 
 if you succeed, I shall still regard myself the 
 loser, and will buy the champagne, and the dinner 
 at the Cafe Royale, as I agreed." 
 
 "And I shall be most happy to do the same 
 should I fail. Oblige me by requesting Vernet 
 to come to my rooms at the hotel at once. Good 
 by." 
 
 Duvall hung up the receiver, and sat down with 
 the drawings he had made before him. He 
 awaited the coming of Vernet with impatience. 
 
 The latter appeared in some twenty minutes. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Monsieur Duvall?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Good morning, Vernet. Sit down, and have 
 a cigar. I have a little matter I wish to talk over 
 with you." 
 
 "Concerning the missing child of Monsieur 
 Stapleton, I understand," remarked Vernet, as he 
 lit a cigar and drew his chair up to the table. 
 Fie glanced at the drawings before him. "What 
 are these, may I ask?" 
 
 Duvall took up his pencil. "This, Vernet, is a 
 map of a small part of Paris. Here, as you see,
 
 212 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 is the Avenue Kleber, terminating at the Champs 
 Elysees just in front of the Arc de Triomphe." 
 
 "I see. It is quite plain." 
 
 "Here this black square is Mr. Stapleton s 
 house. From there to the arch is a matter of 
 some six hundred yards." 
 
 "About that, I should say. What of it?" 
 
 "Wait. The black-bearded fellow the kid 
 napper who visited Mr. Stapleton last night, 
 and escaped by the ruse of being arrested by one 
 of his confederates, will arrive at Mr. Stapleton s 
 house at eight o clock tonight." 
 
 "Mon Dieu! If that is so, we have him!" 
 
 "Not so fast. We shall not interfere with him 
 then." 
 
 "But, Monsieur, would you let this fellow es 
 cape? It is my duty to arrest him, as soon as he 
 puts in an appearance." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Yernet. Your duty is to 
 do as I instruct you. Monsieur Lefevre has 
 placed you under my orders for the day." 
 
 Vernet laughed. "That is so," he said. 
 "What do you wisK me to do?" 
 
 "The man will come to Mr. Stapleton s house 
 at eight o clock, and will be given a large sum 
 of money. He has agreed, if he is not interfered
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 213 
 
 with, to have the address where the boy may be 
 found telephoned to Mr. Stapleton within half 
 an hour." 
 
 "Ah ! Then we shall follow, and get him after 
 he has telephoned." 
 
 Duvall laughed. "We are dealing with a far 
 shrewder man than that, Vernet. This fellow will 
 do no telephoning." 
 
 "Then how will he let Monsieur Stapleton 
 know?" 
 
 "That is just what I am trying to find out. Put 
 yourself in his place. He is known he dare not 
 remain in Paris he gets five hundred thousand 
 francs to give up the child. Is it not natural to 
 suppose that he will leave the city at once?" 
 
 "Yes. That is what I should do, in his place." 
 
 "Of course. Now I understand that the fellow 
 will walk from Mr. Stapleton s house to the Arc 
 de Triomphe, a distance of six hundred yards. 
 He can do that easily in ten minutes." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Once at the arch, he will stand awaiting a 
 fast automobile, which will come along the 
 Champs Elysees. This automobile will stop for 
 an instant and pick him up, then proceed at high 
 speed along the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne."
 
 214 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "Why do you think that?" 
 
 "Because it will afford him the quickest and 
 safest road out of Paris. From the arch to the 
 Porte Dauphine is less than a mile. He can make 
 it in five minutes. In fifteen minutes altogether 
 then, he is outside the walls. In another fifteen 
 minutes, he is beyond pursuit, in the country." 
 
 "But you forget, Monsieur Duvall, that he has 
 not yet advised his confederates that all is well, 
 and that the address of the place where the boy 
 is hidden is to be telephoned to Mr. Stapleton." 
 
 "No, Vernet, I haven t forgotten that. In 
 fact, I am coming to it now. Suppose you 
 were in this fellow s place how would you do 
 it?" 
 
 Vernet scratched his head thoughtfully. "He 
 might fire a pistol from the car." 
 
 "Too dangerous. The noise of the ex 
 plosion would attract attention. He must work 
 silently." 
 
 "A wave of the hand, perhaps, to someone 
 along the street." 
 
 "Also dangerous. This fellow realizes that 
 
 every possible step will be taken to capture not 
 
 only himself, but his confederates. He antici- 
 
 " pates, no doubt, that the road will be carefully
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 215 
 
 watched. Why take chances, and run the risk of 
 his confederates, at least, being arrested, when 
 there are simpler, easier ways?" 
 
 "Such as what?" 
 
 "Do you not remember the signal, used on the 
 Versailles road, the blue light?" 
 
 "Ah! Exactly. He will signal to some one 
 in a house along the way." 
 
 "That would be easier and safer; but you will 
 remember that there are no houses along the 
 way none, at least, in which a man of this sort 
 could have a confederate hidden. But I should 
 not say none. There is one, perhaps." 
 
 "Indeed, Monsieur. And what house is that?" 
 
 "Mr. Stapleton s. Look!" He drew toward 
 him the sheet of paper. "Here," he placed the 
 point of his pencil upon the black square which 
 indicated the location of the banker s residence, 
 "is the house. The north window of a room on 
 the top floor commands a view of the Avenue 
 du Bois de Boulogne, from a point some 500 feet 
 west of the Arc de Triomphe, to where it inter 
 sects the Avenue Malakoff. Beyond there, the 
 view is interrupted. In fact, the trees along the 
 Avenue du Bois de Boulogne are to some extent 
 an obstruction; but at the crossing with the Ave-
 
 216 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 nue Malakoff there is a wide and uninterrupted 
 view." 
 
 "But a confederate in Monsieur Stapleton s 
 own house?" 
 
 "Yes. The chauffeur, Francois." 
 
 "You astonish me, Monsieur. We have sus 
 pected the fellow, it is true. The very room of 
 which you speak has been searched. We found 
 nothing. How do you know that what you say 
 is true?" 
 
 "Never mind how I know it now. The point 
 is this Francois, I fully believe, will be in that 
 room, tonight, at eight o clock, watching carefully 
 the automobiles which pass the intersection of the 
 Avenue Malakoff " 
 
 "Not necessarily, Monsieur. We can easily 
 prevent it, by placing him under arrest." 
 
 "That is exactly what we must not do. Don t 
 you see, it is absolutely necessary, for the re 
 covery of Mr. Stapleton s child, that the signals 
 go through uninterrupted?" 
 
 "Of course, I had forgotten that. And these 
 signals?" 
 
 "Naturally I cannot tell yet. I think, how 
 ever, that the automobile for which Francois will 
 be looking will show a brilliant blue light, while
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 217 
 
 crossing the Avenue Malakoff. That is, of 
 course, if our friend the kidnapper gets safely 
 away, without being pursued." 
 
 "And otherwise?" 
 
 "I think the light would be red. He can make 
 either, very simply, by means of a powerful elec 
 tric searchlight one of these pocket affairs, you 
 know, fitted with colored glasses." 
 
 "You interest me wonderfully, Monsieur Du- 
 vall. What next?" 
 
 "It is, of course, most important that the signal 
 given shall be the correct one. There must be 
 no interference whatever with this fellow s escape 
 up to that point." 
 
 "Ah I begin to see. And what after that?" 
 
 "First, let us continue with Francois. He will, 
 I think, return a blue signal to the man in the 
 automobile, to show that he has seen, and under 
 stood. He has the means to do so all ready, in 
 his room." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "He will make, I think, a similar signal from 
 his south window to some one who is on watch, 
 in the direction of Passy. This second person, who 
 no doubt has the child in his care, will then go 
 to a telephone, transmit the address of the house
 
 218 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 where the child is hidden, to Mr. Stapleton, and 
 quietly depart, to join his confederate in say 
 Brussels. He will run not the slightest risk of 
 capture. If, on the other hand, that message 
 fails to go through, the address will not 
 be telephoned, and the child will probably be 
 killed." 
 
 Vernet frowned grimly. "It is a remarkable 
 plan, Monsieur. These fellows are no bunglers. 
 I think, however, that we shall be able to stop 
 them." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I will station myself at the Porte Dauphin 
 with a fast automobile, a racer. When these fel 
 lows pass, I will follow them, and overtake 
 them." 
 
 "An excellent idea, Vernet; but how, may I 
 ask, will you know the car, when it passes you? 
 There are hundreds of cars on the Avenue du 
 Bois de Boulogne, at eight o clock in the even- 
 ing." 
 
 Vernet laughed. "I confess, Monsieur, you 
 have me there." 
 
 "Of course you might station a man at the in 
 tersection of the Avenue Malakoff and the Ave 
 nue du Bois de Boulogne; but I do not think he
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 219 
 
 would be able to see the signal. By placing on 
 the end of the searchlight a paper tube, the light 
 would be invisible except in the direction in 
 which it is pointed and that, you will remember, 
 is diagonally upward. A man on the sidewalk 
 would not see it at all." 
 
 "Then, Monsieur, I fail to see that there is 
 anything we can do." 
 
 "There is one thing, Vernet. You forget the 
 answering signal, from the window." 
 
 The Frenchman looked at his companion with 
 undisguised admiration. "Sacre!" he exclaimed. 
 "You have a mind, Monsieur Duvall, in a thou 
 sand." 
 
 "Thanks," answered Duvall, dryly. "Now, my 
 idea is, to have you select some point near the 
 intersection of the two avenues, from which the 
 window in the rear of Mr. Stapleton s house can 
 be clearly seen. Station yourself there, tonight, 
 with the fastest automobile you can secure. Let 
 r> one man watch the window, another the vehicles 
 passing in the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. The 
 moment you see the blue light, start after your 
 man. He should be just across the intersection, 
 on his way down the Avenue du Bois de Bou 
 logne."
 
 220 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Vernet rubbed his hands together with satis 
 faction. "We shall get him never fear." 
 
 "Of course," said Duvall, slowly, "all this is 
 pure assumption on my part, based upon wliat I 
 have discovered in the chauffeur s room. It may 
 not turn out as I say, but the chances are fifty to 
 one that it will." 
 
 "And you, Monsieur? Where will you be? : 
 
 "I shall be in the room, with Francois. I do 
 not propose that he shall escape. And further I 
 do not know that I am correct, in my assumption 
 regarding his signals to Passy. He may go out, 
 and send the telephone message himself. In that 
 case, I shall follow. Or he may, through some 
 unforeseen accident, get the wrong signal, in 
 which case I propose to overpower him, and give 
 the right one. Suppose we go, now, and take a 
 look at the intersection of the Avenue Malakoff 
 and the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, and see 
 what arrangements can best be made. Also, if 
 Mr. Stapleton is out in his car, we may be able 
 to take a few observations from his chauffeur s 
 window." He took up his hat, lighted a cigar, 
 and led the way to the door. 
 
 They drove to the Arc de Triomphe in a cab, 
 and, after dismissing it, walked slowly down the
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 221 
 
 Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. At the intersection 
 with the Avenue Malakoff they stopped and gazed 
 about carefully, although in such a way as not 
 to attract attention. A brief inspection served 
 to confirm all that Duvall had said. It took them 
 some little time to locate the window in the rear 
 of Mr. Stapleton s house; but after a time they 
 managed to do so, and saw that it commanded 
 an uninterrupted view of the point where they 
 stood. 
 
 Vernet was highly satisfied, as they parted. It 
 was deemed unnecessary for him to visit the 
 chauffeur s room, and thereby run the risk of their 
 being seen entering the banker s house together. 
 Vernet departed to make his arrangements for 
 the evening, strictly cautioned by his companion 
 not to let Monsieur Lefevre into his secret. "It 
 is a bet," he told Vernet. "I hope we shall suc 
 ceed in winning it." 
 
 After his companion had departed, Duvall 
 dropped in to see Mr. Stapleton. He learned 
 that the banker was out, driving in the Bois with 
 Mrs. Stapleton, who, overcome by anxiety and 
 grief, had great need of the fresh air to retain 
 her health. She was fast breaking down under 
 the strain.
 
 222 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Duvall went up to have another look at the 
 chauffeur s room. He had been unable to get 
 a thoroughly clear idea of the view from the 
 window, the night before, owing to the dark 
 ness. 
 
 He found everything as he had left it, the 
 searchlight on the dresser, the colored glass or 
 naments hanging from their gay ribbons. The 
 north window overlooked with perfect clearness 
 the intersection of the two avenues, as he and 
 Vernet had seen them from below. The other 
 window presented a more distant view. Nearby 
 roofs and chimneys obstructed it in part; but be 
 tween them could be seen the villas and buildings 
 in Passy, smiling in the sunlight. The sight im 
 pressed Duvall the more strongly with the clever 
 ness of the men he sought to arrest. Somewhere 
 in all that maze of buildings, that wide vista 
 of houses and trees and distant fields, Mr. Staple- 
 ton s child lay concealed, and it needed but a 
 flash of light from this w r indow to set him free. 
 Passing his fingers idly along the window sill, 
 Duvall suddenly observed two parallel scratches 
 in the white paint, w r hich had apparently been 
 made with the point of a knife. He knelt down, 
 and sighted between them. His line of vision
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 223 
 
 swept clear of the nearby roofs and chimneys, 
 toward Passy. 
 
 The detective turned from the window, a smile 
 of satisfaction on his face, and proceeded to make 
 a careful examination of the chauffeur s closet. 
 It was here that he intended to lie hidden. He 
 felt certain that, in order the better to perceive 
 and send his signals, as well as to escape detection 
 from below, the chauffeur would allow his room to 
 remain unlighted. 
 
 This, Duvall reasoned, would render it easy 
 for him to lie concealed until the signal which 
 would insure the safe return of the lost child had 
 been given, after which he would call upon 
 Francois with precision and despatch. Should 
 anything occur to prevent the chauffeur from giv 
 ing the favorable signal, he proposed to give it 
 himself. 
 
 The closet was close to the north window, and 
 its door opened in such a way that Duvall saw at 
 once that in the darkened room he could readily 
 open it sufficiently to see all that Francois did, 
 without running any serious risk of detection. 
 
 He left the house at a little after noon and 
 stopped in at a well known restaurant on the 
 Boulevard des Italiens for lunch. He felt very
 
 224 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 well satisfied with the course that events were 
 taking. If only he could get through with this 
 thing, and get back to Grace, and the farm, he 
 would be supremely happy. He became so ab 
 sorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice a 
 gentleman who slipped quietly into the chair op 
 posite him, until the latter leaned over and 
 touched his arm. 
 
 He looked up suddenly. It was Monsieur 
 Lef evre !
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE few seconds that elapsed while Grace 
 Duvall stood in the deserted studio in 
 Passy, waiting for the arrival of the per 
 son who was ascending the stairs, seemed like 
 eternities, so crowded were they with terror. 
 
 What should she do what, indeed, could she 
 do? A dozen plans raced madly through her 
 brain, confusing her, baffling her with their 
 futility. 
 
 That the missing boy was within the sound of 
 her voice, she knew; for even as she stood trem 
 bling at the ominous footsteps on the creaking 
 stairs, she could hear the low troubled childish 
 moaning, coming apparently from the very air 
 in front of her, yet affording not the slightest 
 clue as to the boy s whereabouts. 
 
 She glanced about the room in desperation. 
 Nearer and nearer came the creaking footfalls 
 on the stairs. She dared not leave the room now, 
 and thereby meet the approaching man face to 
 
 225
 
 226 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 face on the landing; yet to remain where she was 
 would result only in her being obliged to make 
 some lame and halting excuse for her presence, 
 and go, as sjon as the man entered the room. 
 
 Even this she could not count upon. The fel 
 low, no doubt a desperate and unscrupulous ruf 
 fian, might attack her, might detain her a pris 
 oner until the child had been safely removed to 
 another place, beyond all hope of discovery. All 
 the work of the past twelve hours would come to 
 nothing. And even should he let her go, in 
 safety, he could not fail to suspect the reasons 
 for her presence and warn his companions. 
 
 Clearly the only thing to do was to remain in 
 the room, in hiding. There was but one place 
 in which she could hope to escape instant detec 
 tion the closet. Yet even this promised but tem 
 porary safety; the man would be almost certain 
 to open it, for some reason or other, and dis 
 cover her presence. 
 
 It was her only chance, however, and she took 
 it. Even as the footsteps of the approaching 
 man sounded upon the landing outside, Grace 
 flew across the room and into the closet, closing 
 the door softly behind her. In her haste, one 
 arm of a velveteen coat which hung upon a hook,
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 227 
 
 became jammed in the door, with the result that 
 it would not entirely close. She realized that it 
 was too late to remedy the trouble now, and 
 crouched back trembling with excitement. 
 
 The jamming of the door had caused it to re 
 main slightly open, with a space half an inch 
 broad between it and the casing. Through this, 
 Grace could see a part of the room before her. 
 She watched the door to the hallway intently, as 
 it was thrown open. 
 
 The man she had seen in the pastry shop came 
 in, several packages in his hands. These he 
 placed upon a table, and at once began to prepare 
 breakfast. A small alcohol lamp served for 
 coffee, and butter, rolls, and fruit he produced 
 from the paper bags before him. There was 
 also a bottle of milk. Grace wondered if this 
 was intended for the child. 
 
 The man went about his preparations silently. 
 Grace occasionally obtained a good view of his 
 face. He was apparently about thirty years of 
 age, dark and swarthy. There was something fa 
 miliar about his manner, his general appearance; 
 although what it was, she could not tell. She was 
 certain, however, that she had seen him before. 
 
 Once or twice he made a move, as though
 
 228 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 to approach the closet; but each time it 
 was something else that claimed his attention. 
 Once it was to get a package of cigarettes that 
 lay upon one of the modeling stands. Grace won 
 dered what she would have done, had he kept on 
 toward her, and opened the closet door. 
 
 She fell to thinking, in momentary snatches, 
 about home, and Richard. How curious it seemed 
 for them both to be here in Paris, separated for 
 all these days, yet so near each other! She won 
 dered if Richard had written to her, and what 
 he would think, not to have heard from her. 
 Then she remembered that after all he had been 
 in Paris but a few days there was scarcely time 
 for a letter to have reached him. She thought 
 of Uncle Abe, pottering about among the flower 
 beds, of Aunt Lucy grumbling good naturedly 
 over her wash tubs, of Rose, singing her queer 
 camp meeting songs in the spring twilight, of 
 Don, and the other dogs, the chickens, and her 
 beloved flowers, and wondered how all of them 
 were getting along with Richard and herself both 
 away. 
 
 Her reveries were Interrupted by a sudden 
 sound which made her start forward, tense with 
 excitement. The man in the tudio had gone for
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 229 
 
 a moment beyond the line of her vision, into a 
 corner of the room to her left. She could not 
 see what he was doing there, and it was while 
 waiting for him to reappear that she had fallen 
 into her day dream. 
 
 The sound which startled her was the voice 
 of a child, not crying, this time, but speaking 
 clearly and distinctly. "I want to go home!" it 
 said, in a high nervous voice. "I want to see my 
 mamma !" 
 
 The man answered roughly, impatiently. "You 
 can t go now. Be quiet and come and eat your 
 breakfast." 
 
 He appeared suddenly in the line of view com 
 manded by the crack in the door, and Grace saw 
 that he held a small boy by one hand, and was 
 leading him to the table. Here he placed him in 
 a chair and set before him a glass of milk and 
 a roll. "Hurry up now!" the man growled. "Eat 
 your breakfast. I ve got to go out." 
 
 The man s words set Grace s heart to beating 
 with renewed quickness. If the man was going 
 out, she would be able to escape, and take the 
 boy with her. 
 
 She did not doubt that he was Mr. Stapleton s 
 child. The girl s dress which he had worn on
 
 230 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 the former occasion had been removed, and in 
 place of it he wore a suit of dark blue, somewhat 
 dirty and worn. His face still appeared to be 
 very dark, and his hair, which had formerly been 
 long and curly, was cropped close to his head. 
 He appeared to be well, but very nervous. Grace 
 watched him eagerly as he devoured the roll and 
 milk. 
 
 When he had finished, the man took him by 
 the hand and again led him to the corner of the 
 room beyond Grace s sight. She strained her 
 face against the opening in the door, striving 
 in vain to see what he was doing; but it was use 
 less. 
 
 She heard the boy begin to object, begging the 
 man in a querulous voice to let him go out and 
 play. His captor, however, silenced him with a 
 sharp word, accompanied by a blow. "Get in 
 there, and keep quiet!" Grace heard him say, and 
 after that all was silent. A moment later the 
 man reappeared, put on his hat, and, going out, 
 locked the door carefully behind him. Grace 
 wondered if the maid had told him of her call, 
 and thereby roused his suspicions. 
 
 She waited until she heard the front door close, 
 and then, emerging quickly from the closet, went
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 231 
 
 toward the side of the room to which the man 
 had gone with the child. 
 
 At first sight, there appeared to be no place 
 where the latter could have been hidden. The 
 two walls were of gray-tinted plaster, cracked and 
 stained with age. There was a rickety chair and 
 a battered plaster figure of a centaur, against 
 which leaned an easel and a mass of sketches, 
 covered with cobwebs and dust. 
 
 With extreme care, she examined the walls and 
 floor. It seemed most likely that some trapdoor 
 existed, affording an entrance to a secret closet 
 in which the boy had been placed. A few mo 
 ments effort showed no traces whatever of such 
 a hiding place. The floor was of planks, covered 
 with dust, and the cracks between the boards were 
 filled with dirt and showed nowhere evidences of 
 having been recently moved. The walls she 
 sounded gently with ,the handle of a model 
 ing tool which she snatched up from the 
 table; but they gave forth a uniformly solid 
 sound. 
 
 She stood, surveying the place in perplexity. 
 Then a sudden thought occurred to her. The 
 ceiling! It swept low down, at the corner of the 
 room, and above it she knew there must be an
 
 232 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 attic. She went over and began to examine the 
 dusty plaster surface with minute care. 
 
 A sound of footsteps upon the stairs sent her 
 scurrying back into the closet. She wondered 
 why the man had returned so soon. Greatly to 
 her surprise, she saw, as soon as the door opened, 
 that the newcomer was not the one who had left 
 her a short time before, but an older man, more 
 heavily built. As he turned and glanced toward 
 the side of the room where she was hidden, she 
 saw that he wore a heavy black beard. It was 
 the kidnapper himself the man whom she had 
 seen at Mr. Stapleton s house the night before ! 
 
 He appeared to be annoyed, at not finding any 
 one in the studio, and after a moment sat down 
 and lighting a cigar, began to read a newspaper 
 which he drew from his pocket. 
 
 Grace watched him intently, hardly daring to 
 breathe for fear he might hear her. An hour 
 passed, and the air in the closet became close and 
 hot. She felt so nervous that she could have 
 screamed, when the door of the room suddenly 
 opened and Durand appeared. 
 
 The two greeted each other with a nod. 
 "Where have you been?" the older man de 
 manded, somewhat angrily.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 233 
 
 "I had to get a new battery." He took a short 
 black cylinder from his pocket and laid it on the 
 table. 
 
 "Is the boy here?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Good ! Now listen to your instructions." He 
 lowered his voice, glancing swiftly toward the 
 closed door of the room. "At eight o clock I 
 shall go to the banker s house and get the money. 
 At eight fifteen, or a little before, Francois will 
 get his signal and repeat to you. If he flashes 
 the blue light, you will release the boy, leave the 
 room, lock the door, and go at once to the Place 
 du Trocadero. From the little tobacco shop you 
 will telephone the address of this place No. 
 42, isn t it? to Monsieur Stapleton. That will 
 be about half past eight. Do not telephone before 
 that. Then wait for me in front of the shop. 
 Do you understand?" 
 
 "Perfectly. And if I get the red signal?" 
 
 "In that event, do not release the boy, but 
 lock the door and come to the tobacco shop, as 
 before. I will communicate with you there. Old 
 Martelle is perfectly safe. But I do not think 
 there will be any trouble. You will get the blue 
 light."
 
 234 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 "You seem sure." 
 
 "I am. This man Stapleton is not going to 
 take any more chances. Once I am in the auto 
 mobile, I am safe." 
 
 "They could arrest you while you are walking 
 to the Arc de Triomphe, after leaving the 
 house." 
 
 "That is true; but what would they gain. They 
 would not get the boy, would they? And they 
 have no evidence to show that I stole him. Fur 
 ther, Francois reports this morning that he over 
 heard Stapleton and his wife talking. There is 
 to be no interference at least not until I get 
 away in the machine. They will follow me, of 
 course. I fully expect it. But you know the steps 
 I have taken to take care of that game." He 
 laughed grimly. "No no the thing is abso 
 lutely safe. We will get away without the least 
 trouble." 
 
 "Nevertheless, if anything goes wrong, and I 
 do not get the red signal, what shall we do then?" 
 
 "We ll talk that over, when the time comes. 
 You meet me at Martelle s." 
 
 "But suppose you can t be there? They might 
 get you, you know." 
 
 The man with the beard frowned darkly, and
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 235 
 
 an evil expression came over his face. "If you get 
 the red signal, and I do not meet you at Mar- 
 telle s at half past eight, come back here, get 
 the boy, and take him to Lavillac. And before 
 you do so, cut off his left hand, and send it to 
 Stapletcn with a letter telling him that if I am 
 not set free at once, you will send his head. That 
 will bring them to terms." 
 
 Grace shuddered as she heard the man s words. 
 
 His companion nodded. "I understand," he 
 said. "But I hope it won t be necessary." 
 
 "It won t. They can t get me. I ve planned 
 too carefully. That American detective, Duvall, 
 is a joke. He was out on the Boulevard du Bois 
 de Boulogne this morning with one of the Pre 
 fect s men. They are figuring to have an auto 
 mobile at the Avenue Malakoff and follow me." 
 He laughed loudly. "Much good that will do 
 them ! 
 
 "How about Frangois?" 
 
 "Oh in a week or two, after we are safely 
 away, Frangois will sprain his wrist, and be forced 
 to give up his position as Monsieur Stapleton s 
 chauffeur. He will join us in New York." 
 
 The younger man puffed meditatively at his 
 cigarette. "What s become of that woman Le-
 
 236 THE BLUE LIGHTS; 
 
 fevre had snooping around? Seen anything of 
 her, since last night?" 
 
 ",No. She hasn t been about. Not much dan 
 ger of her finding out anything." 
 
 The other rubbed his chin, in deep thought. 
 "She nearly got you, last night," he presently 
 remarked. 
 
 "Oh, no. Not a chance. I knew she was in 
 the house, and I figured she would telephone to 
 headquarters as soon as she learned who I was. 
 All I had to do was to signal you, through the 
 window, and the thing was done. Of course I 
 didn t expect the Prefect s man to get there quite 
 as soon as he did; but you handled him all right." 
 As he spoke, the man rose, went to a small mir 
 ror that hung on the wall, and carefully removed 
 the black beard which was so distinguishing a 
 feature of his appearance. 
 
 "Pretty hot, this thing," he announced, as he 
 threw it on the table. "Got anything to drink 
 about? I m thirsty." 
 
 Grace saw, as he turned toward her, that he 
 bore a striking resemblance to the masked man 
 who had given her the first message to Mr. 
 Stapleton, in the room of the house on the road 
 to Versailles. She trembled as she heard him ask
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 237 
 
 for the drink. Suppose the bottle should be in 
 the closet? She shrunk back in terror as the 
 younger man rose and started toward her. 
 
 Her alarm was needless, however. The fellow 
 drew open one of the drawers of a small dresser 
 that stood on the opposite side of the room, and 
 took out a light green bottle. "Absinthe?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "All right. One won t do any harm. Don t 
 take any more, though." He began to pour out 
 the drink into a glass which stood upon the table. 
 "When you get the signal from Frangois," he 
 went on, "you are to answer it, as usual, so he ll 
 know you ve seen him. He doesn t want to stay 
 in his room very long for fear he might be 
 missed." 
 
 "They suspect him, of course." 
 
 "Yes. He s being watched right along; when 
 he s out of the house, that is. They ve searched 
 his room, and all that; but they haven t found 
 anything." He chuckled, and began to sip his 
 drink. "Nothing to find." 
 
 The other man sat down at the table, and the 
 two began talking over their plans of escape. 
 Grace could not hear all they said; but, as nearly 
 as she could gather, they intended, as soon as the
 
 238 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 younger man had joined the other, to run for 
 Brussels in the automobile. Near the frontier 
 they would leave the machine, change their dis 
 guises, and cross the frontier on foot. Once in 
 Belgium, they seemed to think they would be quite 
 safe. 
 
 It was along toward noon when the older man 
 readjusted his disguise and left the house. "I m 
 going to get something to eat," he announced. "I 
 won t be back. You d better not leave the place 
 again. I ll send you in something, if you like." 
 He glanced at the rolls and milk on the table. 
 
 "It won t be necessary. I ve got all I need. 
 Guess I ll take a nap this afternoon. Well, good 
 luck," he concluded, as the other started toward 
 the door. "See you later." 
 
 "All right." The black-bearded man passed 
 noiselessly into the hall. "Don t sleep too long. 
 Eight o clock, remember." In a moment he was 
 gone. 
 
 Grace watched the other as he finished drinking 
 his absinthe and lit a cigarette. Presently he went 
 over to the cot and, throwing himself upon it, was 
 soon snoring loudly. 
 
 The long hot afternoon wore itself on. Grace 
 leaned back against the wall of the closet, weak
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 239 
 
 from the nervous tension of the situation. The 
 place was hot and close. She felt faint from lack 
 of air, from hunger. At times she dozed off, 
 then recovered herself with a start, and stood 
 trembling, fearful lest she had made some noise 
 which might attract the attention of the sleeping 
 man. 
 
 After a time, the low complaining of the child 
 began again, at first faint and seemingly far off, 
 then growing in volume, until the tearful cries of 
 "Let me out let me out!" seemed to come from 
 a point scarcely beyond the reach of her hand. 
 
 The child s complaints at last awoke the sleep 
 ing man. With a muttered curse he rose, crossed 
 the room, and disappeared from sight. Grace 
 heard a low scraping sound, as of a panel being 
 drawn back, and presently the man again ap 
 peared with the child, and again supplied him with 
 bread and milk. 
 
 After he had eaten, the man gave him a maga 
 zine with bright-colored pictures in it, to amuse 
 him, and lay on the bed, smoking. The boy sat 
 on the floor, looking at the book. 
 
 Once or twice he tried to speak, but the man 
 sharply bade him be quiet. About sundown, a 
 step was heard on the stairs, and once again the
 
 240 \ THE . BLUE^LIGHTS ; 
 
 boy was hastily placed in his hiding place, with 
 threats of punishment if he cried. 
 
 The new arrival was only a model, in search of 
 work. The man spoke to her gruffly, and in 
 formed her that he had all the models he needed. 
 After she left, he did not again release the child, 
 but sat, reading, for a long time. 
 
 At last he rose, took up the short black cylinder, 
 which Grace saw was an electric searchlight, from 
 the table, and went over and sat in the sill of 
 the large double window which faced to the north. 
 .The window was open, and the room in darkness. 
 
 Grace pushed the door of her closet open 
 slightly, so as to get a better view. The window 
 was directly opposite the closet, at the other end 
 of the room. She could see the silent figure of 
 the watcher, silhouetted blackly against the night 
 sky without. Off to the north were many lights 
 the lights of the houses toward the Champs lily- 
 sees, and the Arc de Triomphe. 
 
 For many minutes she watched, over the man s 
 shoulder, waiting for the signal which would set 
 both herself and Mr. Stapleton s boy free from 
 their long confinement. 
 
 Presently she heard the man utter a quick oath, 
 and saw him peer out of the window, his figure
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 241 
 
 tense and rigid, a pair of field glasses held to 
 his eyes. In another moment he had dropped 
 the glasses, picked up his electric searchlight, and 
 flashed a signal into the darkness. 
 
 It took him but a moment. In another he had 
 rushed to the door, and Grace heard him turn 
 the key in the lock and clatter down the stairs. 
 
 She crept swiftly to the window and looked out. 
 At first she could see nothing, but a confused maze 
 of lights. In a moment she had seized the field 
 glasses and was nervously sweeping the horizon. 
 Suddenly she held them still for a moment, then 
 drew back with a cry of dismay. Far off toward 
 the Avenue Kleber there gleamed a light, high in 
 the upper room of a house. It shone for a few 
 moments, steady, baleful, full of unknown terror, 
 then winked suddenly out and was gone. She 
 dropped the field glasses upon the floor and stag 
 gered back against the table. The light was red! 
 She was locked in. The two men would undoubt 
 edly be back in fifteen or twenty minutes. And 
 then she shuddered as she thought of what they 
 intended to do to the kidnapped child. To her 
 self she gave scarcely a thought. Then Richard s 
 face came before her eyes, and she fell upon the 
 window seat, sobbing bitterly.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHEN Monsieur Lefevre touched Rich 
 ard Duvall on the shoulder, in the 
 restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiens, 
 he was filled with a very great feeling of anxiety, 
 although he concealed it behind a mask of pleased 
 surprise at the unexpected meeting. 
 
 Since early the evening before he had had no 
 word from Grace. He knew from Mr. Stapleton 
 that she had left his house a short while after 
 nine; but since then she had completely disap 
 peared. 
 
 The Prefect at first thought that she had been 
 unable to keep her identity from her husband any 
 longer, and had joined him. He later learned 
 from Vernet that this was not the case. Now the 
 old gentleman began to feel seriously alarmed at 
 her continued absence. 
 
 "How goes everything, my friend?" he asked, 
 with an elaborate show of carelessness. "Have 
 you found the kidnappers yet?" 
 
 242
 
 THE BLUE LIOHTS 243 
 
 Duvall smiled. "Not yet. But I expect to 
 have them, before the evening is over." 
 
 "Indeed! I congratulate you. Have you seen 
 anything of Mademoiselle Goncourt?" 
 
 "No. Why?" 
 
 "I thought perhaps you might have met her. 
 You two are after the same game, you know." 
 
 Duvall smiled grimly. "I don t believe she s 
 following the same trail that I am," he said. "I 
 expect to win that bet, Monsieur." 
 
 The Prefect seemed a trifle uneasy. "The even 
 ing is not yet over, Monsieur," he replied. "But, 
 in any event, I hope that Monsieur Stapleton s son 
 will be returned to him without further delay, 
 whoever brings about the result." 
 
 "Come to his house tonight, Monsieur. I have 
 arranged a little matter with Vernet which may 
 surprise you. And then, too, we shall have to go 
 and get the boy." He rose, and took up his hat. 
 "We shall want you with us." 
 
 "By all means. I shall be there, my friend. 
 What hour would you suggest?" 
 
 "Half past eight, at the latest." 
 
 "Good! I shall be there at that time. Good 
 day, mon ami. 
 
 ."Au revoir- Give my respects to Mademoiselle
 
 244 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Goncourt." He left the restaurant and, going to 
 his room at the hotel, proceeded to write a long 
 letter to Grace. He reproached her for not hav 
 ing written to him. Here he had been in Paris 
 four days, and had not heard a word from her! 
 A letter, he felt, should have come by the very 
 next steamer several, in fact. He told her how 
 greatly he missed her, how deeply he loved her, 
 and how soon he hoped to return to her arms. 
 And even as he wrote, Grace, half dead from 
 fatigue, stood hidden in the closet at Passy, a mile 
 away, watching with frightened eyes the kid 
 napper asleep on the pallet bed. 
 
 Duvall had arranged to be at Mr. Stapleton s 
 house a little before eight that night, and it still 
 lacked twenty minutes of the hour when he as 
 cended the steps of the banker s residence and was 
 ushered into the library. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton sat in grim silence, awaiting the 
 coming of his visitor. He did not seem particu 
 larly glad to see Duvall. The latter s apparent 
 failure to make any headway in the matter of 
 recovering his missing boy had caused the banker 
 to lose confidence in his abilities. 
 
 "Good evening, Duvall," he remarked, indif 
 ferently.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 245 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Stapleton. You are ready 
 for your man, I see." He glanced at the package 
 of banknotes which lay at the banker s elbow. 
 
 "Quite. You have done nothing to interfere 
 with his coming or going, I trust." 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 Stapleton glanced at the clock. "He will be 
 here very soon, now. May I ask you to wait in 
 my study, upstairs? It would never do for you 
 to be here. The man might be afraid to enter." 
 
 "No you are right. I must not be here. But 
 I prefer not to wait in the study. I have another 
 plan." 
 
 "What is it?" inquired the banker, uneasily. 
 
 "Where is Frangois, your chauffeur?" 
 
 "At his dinner, I believe. Why?" 
 
 "Will you kindly find out for sure? I want to 
 go to his room." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton summoned a servant, who told 
 him that the chauffeur was just finishing his din 
 ner. "You will be very careful, Duvall," he said, 
 anxiously. "I don t want anything done which 
 will alarm these fellows." 
 
 "Oh, Francois won t see me. I shall keep 
 out of his sight. Perhaps I had better go up 
 now." He nodded to the banker, and at once
 
 246 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 ascended the stairs which lead to the servants 
 quarters. 
 
 At the door of the chauffeur s room he paused. 
 It was closed. He pushed it gently open, and in 
 a moment was in the room. The place was quite 
 dark; but by means of a pocket light Duvall soon 
 found the closet, and a moment later was safely 
 ensconced within. He left the door ajar, and to 
 his satisfaction found that he could see through 
 the north window without difficulty. Here he 
 waited, until the chauffeur should arrive. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton, meanwhile, sat grimly in the 
 library below, waiting for the coming of the kid 
 napper. Promptly at eight o clock, his butler 
 announced that the man had arrived. 
 
 "Show him in at once," exclaimed the banker, 
 as he rose and began to walk up and down the 
 room. 
 
 In a moment the man came into the library. 
 His powerful figure, his black beard, his assured 
 manner, rendered him an easily recognized figure. 
 
 "I have come, Monsieur, as I said I would," 
 he remarked, calmly. "I trust you have the 
 money in readiness." 
 
 Stapleton stepped over to the desk and picked 
 up the package of banknotes. "Here it is," he
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 247 
 
 growled. "I understand that you will, in return 
 for this money, send me word at once as to where 
 my son is to be found." 
 
 "Within half an hour, Monsieur, at the latest; 
 provided, of course, I am not interfered with in 
 my escape." 
 
 "There will be no interference, until I get back 
 my boy. After that, I shall spend another hun 
 dred thousand dollars, if need be, to bring you to 
 justice." 
 
 "That, Monsieur, is quite within the terms of 
 our agreement. The moment you receive the ad 
 dress, you are free from any obligation to me. 
 May I see the money?" He extended his 
 hand. 
 
 Mr. Stapleton placed the banknotes in it. 
 "Count them," he growled, "and assure yourself 
 that you have received the amount you demand." 
 The kidnapper sat down with the utmost cool 
 ness and began to count over the notes. They 
 were all of large denomination, and the operation 
 consumed but a few moments. As soon as he had 
 finished, the man placed the bundle of notes care 
 fully in an inside pocket and rose. "The amount 
 is correct, Monsieur," he said. "Permit me to 
 bid you a very good evening." Without further
 
 248 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 delay, he bowed, took up his hat, and left the 
 room. 
 
 At the door he glanced quickly at his watch, 
 then strode off up the street at a rapid pace, 
 toward the Arc de Triomphe. 
 
 For some eight or ten minutes he walked, at 
 the expiration of which time he arrived at the 
 Place de 1 Etoile, and at once crossed to 
 the pavement surrounding the great triumphal 
 arch. 
 
 Up and down the twelve great avenues which 
 radiate from the Place of the Star flashed innu 
 merable automobiles, coming and going like huge 
 jeweled fireflies. 
 
 The kidnapper paused at a point on the very 
 outer edge of the circular pavement which sur 
 rounds the arch, and waited, expectant, his eyes 
 fixed upon the broad sweep of the Champs 
 Elysees. 
 
 For some moments he stood thus, rigid, mo 
 tionless. Suddenly a big black racing car swept 
 from the line of traffic and approached the curb. 
 The man on the sidewalk raised his hand, and 
 made a momentary gesture. The car quivered 
 to the side of the street, pausing but the fraction 
 of a second as the tall figure of the kidnapper
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 249 
 
 stepped in. Another moment, and it had swept 
 around the great arch and was flying down the 
 Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. 
 
 Close behind it came a second car, which, like 
 the first, contained but a single occupant in addi 
 tion to the chauffeur. With scarcely fifty feet 
 between them, the two machines swept down the 
 broad street toward the intersection with the 
 Avenue Malakoff. 
 
 In a few moments, both had reached it. But 
 here their ways parted. The first car, turning in 
 a quick and dangerous quadrant, swept into the 
 Avenue Malakoff and sped southward like the 
 wind. The second car continued on toward the 
 Porte Dauphine. As it passed the intersection 
 with the Avenue Malakoff, the chauffeur, unob 
 served by his passenger, directed a cylindrical 
 black object toward the southern sky and held it 
 there, motionless, until his car had disappeared 
 in the shadow of the trees to the west. 
 
 Just inside the Avenue Malakoff lay a third 
 car, its powerful engine shaking it from end to 
 end with its rapid pulsations. Two men sat in 
 the tonneau. One of them was occupied in watch 
 ing a distant window in the rear of a house on 
 the Avenue Kleber with a pair of field glasses.
 
 250 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 The other kept his gaze fixed upon the road before 
 him. 
 
 Suddenly the man with the field glasses turned, 
 and pointed toward the car which was just passing 
 from sight along the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. 
 "Quick!" he muttered. "After him!" 
 
 The automobile shot forward like a racehorse 
 under the whip, and in a moment was flying down 
 the avenue in hot pursuit. 
 
 The foremost car was making high speed; but 
 the one which pursued it was clearly the faster o 
 the two. Slowly the space which separated them 
 began to decrease. The man in the first car spoke 
 quietly to his chauffeur, and the great car jumped 
 forward with renewed speed. 
 
 Vernet, in charge of the pursuing car, swore 
 "softly to himself as he saw his quarry pull away 
 from him. He had confidence, however, in the 
 speed of his own machine, and urged his driver to 
 greater efforts. 
 
 For several miles the two swept on, the rear 
 car gaining slowly, in spite of the other s best 
 efforts. They had passed the fortifications and 
 were now in the Bois de Boulogne, and with 
 clearer roads ahead the chase seemed likely to be 
 a long one.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 251 
 
 Suddenly, to Vernet s astonishment, the for 
 ward car began to slow up. In a moment the Pre - 
 feet s men ranged alongside, and covered the soli 
 tary passenger with their revolvers. 
 
 "Surrender!" Vernet cried. "You are my 
 prisoner." 
 
 The man in the other car looked up, and calmly 
 began to light a cigarette. "Are you a bandit, 
 my friend?" he inquired, calmly. 
 
 The detective was taken aback. The two cars 
 had now come to a standstill at one side of the 
 road. "Search him!" he said quickly to his com 
 panion. 
 
 The second man climbed into the car. Its occu 
 pant made no protest. "What do you wish with 
 me, gentlemen?" he asked, with a sarcastic smile. 
 "My watch my money?" 
 
 "The searchlight, first of all," replied the de 
 tective, "with which you signaled." 
 
 The man looked at him in astonishment. 
 "What are you talking about, Monsieur?" he 
 inquired. "Is this then a joke?" 
 
 Vernet began to feel a trifle uneasy. This man 
 certainly did not appear to resemble in any way 
 the prisoner he had sought. He was a clean 
 shaven young man, elegantly dressed, and quite
 
 252 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 evidently a gentleman. "Do you deny," asked 
 the detective, "that on passing the Avenue Mala- 
 koff a few moments ago you flashed a blue light 
 toward the Avenue Kleber?" 
 
 The young man laughed. "Of course I deny 
 it," he said. "Why the devil should I be flashing 
 blue lights at the Avenue Kleber? And who are 
 you, to ask me any such nonsensical questions?" 
 
 "I am an agent of the police, Monsieur. Who 
 are you?" 
 
 "I am Anton Lemaitre, stock broker, of the 
 firm of Lemaitre and Bossard." He handed a 
 card to the dumbfounded Vernet. "I am trying 
 a new automobile, which I think of purchasing. 
 My chauffeur proposed that we try it out in the 
 Bois, where there is more opportunity to speed 
 than in the city." 
 
 "Why did you then run away?" 
 
 "My dear sir, I saw you following me. I 
 wish to own a fast car the fastest car in Paris, 
 if possible. I directed my driver to see what he 
 could do. I do not believe, however, that I 
 shall now buy the car, since yours is faster. What 
 make is it, Monsieur, if I may ask?" 
 
 Vernet smothered an oath. Clearly this man 
 was telling the truth. He Hirected his companion
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 253 
 
 to get in with Monsieur Lemaifre. "Drive to the 
 Prefecture," he said, "and let the gentleman tell 
 his story to Monsieur Lefevre." He himself 
 ordered his chauffeur to proceed with all despatch 
 to Mr. Stapleton s house. The affair had ended 
 in a fiasco. He felt that he must see Duvall at 
 once. 
 
 In fifteen minutes he was at the house. Mr. 
 Stapleton was waiting patiently in the library for 
 the telephone call which would announce the hid 
 ing place of his boy. With him were Mrs. Staple- 
 ton and Monsieur Lefevre. 
 
 The poor man and his wife were in a pitiable 
 state, their eyes glued to the clock which stood on 
 the mantel. It was marked twenty-six minutes 
 past eight. "Only four minutes more!" gasped 
 Mrs. Stapleton, through her tears. "My God! 
 why don t they hurry?" 
 
 Her husband endeavored to console her. 
 "They may be a few moments late, my dear. 
 Don t excite yourself. I am sure they will keep 
 their word." 
 
 Vernet went over to Monsieur Lefevre and 
 explained the events of the evening in a few 
 words. The Prefect smiled grimly. "So Mon 
 sieur Duvall has failed again!" he remarked, in
 
 254 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 a low voice. "Mon Dieu! If we do not soon 
 hear from Mademoiselle Goncourt, I shall begin 
 to feel nervous myself." 
 
 Slowly the hands of the clock crept around. 
 As the half hour was reached, and the telephone 
 bell remained silent, Mrs. Stapleton uttered a 
 groan of despair, and sank upon the couch, weep 
 ing pitifully. Mr. Stapleton, watch in hand, paced 
 up and down the room. "They have been inter 
 fered with," he stormed, "or they would have 
 communicated with me before now!" He turned 
 to Monsieur Lefevre. "You have done nothing, 
 I hope, to again prevent me from recovering my 
 son?" 
 
 "Nothing, Monsieur." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton waited another five minutes. It 
 now wanted twenty minutes to nine. The telephone 
 bell remained persistently silent. The banker 
 closed his watch with a snap and thrust it into 
 his pocket. His face was pale with rage and 
 suffering. Drops of perspiration collected on his 
 forehead. "The scoundrels!" he cried. "They 
 have broken their word, and robbed me of a hun 
 dred thousand dollars in the bargain. I will give 
 another hundred thousand to the man who will 
 capture them, dead or alive, and find my boy!"
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 255 
 
 There was a profound silence, broken only by 
 the quick sobbing of Mrs. Stapleton. Neither 
 Lefevre nor Vernet ventured to speak. 
 
 Suddenly there arose sounds of a commotion 
 among the servants gathered in the hall without. 
 In their devotion to their employer they had col 
 lected there to welcome the lost boy. There were 
 exclamations, cries of astonishment and dismay. 
 
 The occupants of the room turned in surprise 
 toward the door. As they did so, Richard Duvall 
 appeared in the doorway. He staggered, and. 
 with difficulty supported himself by clutching the 
 side of the door. His face was covered with 
 blood, his clothes torn and disheveled. 
 
 He swayed a moment, unsteadily in the door. 
 
 "What is it what is wrong?" cried Stapleton, 
 starting toward him. 
 
 "The child is at 42 Rue Nicolo, Passy," gasped 
 the detective, then fell heavily upon the library 
 floor.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 RICHARD DUVALL, waiting with nervous 
 impatience in the closet in Francois room, 
 at last heard a soft and guarded step 
 upon the stairs. He drew back, his muscles tense, 
 and gazed fixedly at the door. 
 
 Although the room was dark, the glow of the 
 street lamps from without, the faint light of the 
 evening sky, sufficed, now that his eyes had become 
 accustomed to the darkness, to enable him not 
 only to recognize the chauffeur as he entered the 
 room, but to follow his movements with little or 
 no difficulty. 
 
 The man seemed hurried. He grouped his way 
 to the dresser at the opposite side of the room, 
 and felt about for the searchlight which Duvall 
 knew lay within easy reach. 
 
 Having secured it, he directed it for a brief 
 moment upon his watch, noted the time, then, 
 going to the door, opened it, and began to listen 
 intently. 
 
 256
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 257 
 
 The detective at once surmised that he was 
 listening for the departure of his confederate, the 
 man with the black beard. 
 
 Presently the chauffeur drew back, closing the 
 door with a grunt of satisfaction, and once more 
 approached the dresser. Duvall concluded that 
 he had gone to get the colored glasses by which 
 he would be able to make the required signals. 
 
 In a moment he returned to the window, and 
 Duvall saw him place the two glass cups upon the 
 sill, and lean out expectantly. 
 
 It seemed a long time before he stirred. The 
 detective, looking over his shoulder, found that 
 his line of vision was interrupted so that he could 
 not see the lights which flashed past the entrance 
 of the Avenue Malakoff. He was forced to con 
 tent himself with keeping a close watch upon the 
 chauffeur. 
 
 Suddenly the man, by an almost instantaneous 
 movement, clapped one of the little glass cups 
 over the end of the tube which formed tne search 
 light, and directed it toward the street. Duvall 
 could not tell whether the signal was blue, or red. 
 He had every reason to believe, however, that 
 it was the former. 
 
 The chauffeur held the tube upon the window
 
 258 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 sill for a few seconds only, then withdrew it, and 
 started to cross the room toward the south win 
 dow. As he did so, he swept the light into the 
 room, and for an instant it fell upon the crack 
 in the closet door through which Duvall w r as 
 peering. He was conscious of a blinding blue 
 radiance, close to his eyes, and the sudden flash 
 caused him to draw back with a quick and invol 
 untary movement. He realized that the chauf 
 feur had not seen him, and that, in a few moments 
 more, the signal would be given which would 
 bring untold happiness to both Mr. Stapleton and 
 his wife. 
 
 The momentary recoil, however, was fatal to 
 his plans. Although he moved his head but a 
 fraction of an inch, the suddenness of the move 
 ment was sufficient to cause a metal coat hanger, 
 which hung, empty, from a hook, to click sharply 
 against its neighbor. 
 
 The chauffeur spun around with the quickness 
 of a cat, and, grasping the knob of the closet door, 
 threw it open. In his hand he still clutched the 
 tube of the searchlight. 
 
 Duvall at the same moment reached for the 
 revolver which lay in a side pocket of his coat. 
 He realized instantly that, now that his presence
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 259 
 
 had been discovered, the chauffeur would of course 
 not send the signal to his confederates in Passy 
 which would result in the telephoning of the ad 
 dress to Mr. Stapleton, but would on the con 
 trary flash a red signal, which the detective fully 
 believed would result in the child s death. 
 
 It was imperative that this should be prevented. 
 Duvall had determined to be present in the chauf 
 feur s room for two reasons, first, to send 
 the favorable signal to Passy himself, should 
 things go wrong, and the chauffeur receive a 
 red flash from the street; secondly, to arrest 
 Francois in the act of receiving and sending the 
 signals. 
 
 He now realized that he must do both, and 
 that, too, without a moment s delay. 
 
 As the chauffeur threw open the door he flashed 
 the blue light full upon the crouching figure of the 
 detective. 
 
 The latter, revolver in hand, commanded him 
 sharply to throw up his hands. 
 
 The chauffeur did so thereby directing the 
 light of the electric lamp toward the ceiling. The 
 sudden change from the glare which an instant 
 before had been in his eyes, to almost total dark 
 ness, left Duvall momentarily blind. His eyes
 
 260 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 could not instantaneously respond to the with 
 drawal of the light. The figure of the chauffeur 
 appeared but a dark and formless shadow. 
 
 The latter, however, not having faced the glare 
 of the light, was able to see without difficulty. 
 With lightning like quickness he spun around on 
 one toot, until his back instead of his face was 
 toward the detective. Then his right foot rose, 
 in the famous and deadly blow of the savate. 
 
 It has been said that this backward kick, so 
 dear to the heart of the Parisian crook, is more 
 to be feared than any possible onslaught in good 
 old Anglo-Saxon style with the fists. Certainly 
 in this instance it was too much for Richard Du- 
 vall. The unexpected blow, coming during the 
 moment when the sudden darkness had left him 
 blinded and confused, sent him crashing back into 
 the depths of the closet, buried beneath a 
 mass of clothing. His arms, entangled in fall 
 ing coats and waistcoats, were helpless. The 
 revolver flew from his hand, and lay useless on the 
 floor. 
 
 The chauffeur went about his business calmly. 
 His first move was to direct the searchlight care 
 fully into the interior of the closet, slipping the 
 blue cup from the end of it as he did so and allow-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 261 
 
 ing it to fall unheeded to the floor. His second 
 was to draw a long and peculiarly deadly looking 
 knife. 
 
 His quick eye saw at once that the revolver was 
 no longer in the detective s grasp. His search 
 light enabled him to discern it, lying on the floor 
 to one side of the closet. Before Duvall could 
 extricate himself from the articles of clothing in 
 which he was entangled, Frangois had stooped 
 quickly, picked up the revolver, and slammed the 
 door of the closet upon him. As he struggled 
 to his feet, the detective heard the click of the 
 key as it turned in the lock. He was a 
 prisoner. 
 
 Without losing a moment, the chauffeur tossed 
 the revolver upon the table, took up the cup- 
 shaped bit of red glass, fitted it to the tube of the 
 searchlight, and, going to the south window, placed 
 it upon the sill in such a way that its crimson glare 
 was directed almost due south. It was evident 
 that the position in which the light was placed was 
 marked by the two tiny scratches cut in the wood 
 work of the window sill. In a moment he had 
 turned back toward the closet door. 
 
 Duvall, meanwhile, realized that only by in 
 stant and superhuman effort could he hope to
 
 262 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 remedy the frightful situation which his unlucky 
 movement had precipitated. 
 
 He braced his shoulders and back against the 
 rear wall of the closet, put his two feet against 
 the door, and with every atom of strength in his 
 body strove to force it open. 
 
 His movements had been quick. Just as the 
 chauffeur turned back from the window toward 
 the room, Duvall, his muscles knotted with effort, 
 drove the full force of his body against the closet 
 door. 
 
 The lock, a cheap affair, was torn loose in a 
 twinkling, and an instant later the two men had 
 grappled in the center of the room. 
 
 The detective s one desire was to get to the 
 window, remove the red light which he knew was 
 flashing its fateful message across the housetops, 
 and substitute for it a blue light, which he hoped 
 even now might shine forth in time to redeem the 
 situation. 
 
 This, however, the chauffeur was equally deter 
 mined to prevent. He realized that he was caught, 
 that his complicity in the affair was known, 
 and that he must warn his comrades of his dan 
 ger, so that, by refusing to give up the boy, they 
 might effect his release. He was fighting for his
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 203 
 
 liberty as desperately as Duvall was fighting for 
 that of Mr. Stapleton s child. 
 
 The two men were evenly matched. The chauf 
 feur was perhaps the stronger, in shoulders and 
 arms, due to his profession. The constant grip 
 upon the steering wheel had given to his upper 
 body muscles like steel. 
 
 The detective, though somewhat less powerful 
 in this direction, was stronger in the back and 
 legs. He had been an athlete, at college, and his 
 recent life upon the farm at home had toughened 
 and hardened him from head to foot. 
 
 He rushed at his opponent, threw his arms 
 around the latter s waist, and strove to lift him 
 and throw him to the floor. 
 
 The chauffeur at the same time got his right 
 arm about Duvall s throat, and with his left did 
 his best to gouge out one of the latter s eyes. His 
 was the style of fighting that considers not means, 
 but results. 
 
 For a moment they swayed heavily about the 
 room, the detective burying his face in his oppo 
 nent s side to protect his eyes, and at the same time 
 striving with all his might to force him back 
 toward the bed. 
 
 Frangois, however, fought well. He began to
 
 264 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 compress his adversary s throat in a choking grip 
 of wrist and forearm which threatened to put 
 an end to the struggle in short order. At the same 
 time his left thumb continually sought the detec 
 tive s eyes. 
 
 Suddenly it reached one of them. Duvall felt 
 a blinding sense of pain as the thumb nail sank 
 into the soft and tender muscles about the eye. 
 The shock was fatal to the plans of the chauffeur; 
 for it raised up in his opponent a great and deadly 
 rage, that for an instant gave him the strength of 
 a madman. He raised his opponent from the 
 floor as though the latter had been a child, broke 
 the grip upon his throat by straightening his head, 
 and with a mighty heave hurled him to the floor. 
 
 The fellow struck upon his side, his temple 
 crashing loudly against the wooden floor. Duvall 
 stood over him for an instant, breathing heavily, 
 convulsively, then turned and snatched the 
 searchlight from the window sill and threw it 
 upon the bed. 
 
 There was a trunk against the wall of the 
 room, near the window, and about it a broad 
 leather strap. Duvall tore the strap from its place, 
 and in a few moments had fastened it about the 
 chauffeur s arms and body.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 265 
 
 A towel, knotted about his ankles, rendered 
 him helpless. Then the detective began to search 
 upon the floor for the bit of blue glass. 
 
 In his heart there was no joy at the victory 
 he had just won. He had captured one of the 
 kidnappers, it was true; but on the other hand 
 he had, by his own carelessness, prevented the 
 safe return of the kidnapped boy to his parents. 
 
 He pictured the father and mother, patiently 
 waiting below for the telephone message which 
 would never come, and wondered how he would 
 dare to tell them the truth. 
 
 At last his nervous fingers closed upon the little 
 glass cup, where it had rolled under the edge of 
 the dresser when Frangois had thrown it down 
 Trembling with haste, he fixed it to the search 
 light which he took from the bed, and, with a hope 
 less feeling, approached the window, and began 
 to wave the light frantically in the direction of 
 Passy. 
 
 For several moments there was no response. 
 As a matter of fact, he scarcely expected any. 
 Then all of a sudden he saw a faint red gleam, 
 like a star, flash from the distant night, and then 
 go out. 
 
 He stood, helpless, waiting for it to reappear,
 
 266 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 hardly daring to hope that it would do so. Sud 
 denly it shone again, this time for a longer period, 
 and then disappeared. He wondered what it 
 meant, and was scarcely surprised when the light 
 again flashed, this time making five quick flashes, 
 which he instantly recognized as Morse code for 
 the letter "P." There was a brief interval, then 
 once more the signals began to flash. This time 
 he read them without difficulty. There were four 
 letters, spelling the word "Help." 
 
 For an instant he leveled the tube of the 
 searchlight toward the point from which the 
 flashes came, guiding it by the scratches on the 
 sill, and began pressing the button which turned 
 the light on and off. "Where are you ?" he spelled 
 out, then waited fearfully for the reply. He 
 dared send no other message. The person at the 
 other end, the one who sent this ominous word, 
 "help," must be one of the kidnappers; yet why 
 should he signal for assistance? He could make 
 nothing of the matter, but he reasoned that anyone 
 calling for help would be sure to give their loca 
 tion, otherwise how could they expect to receive it. 
 
 For a moment the red flashes began again, 
 and this time he began to get the numbers. 
 There were four quick flashes and a long dash,
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 267 
 
 then others in rapid succession: "4-2-R-u-e-N-i-c- 
 o-1-o, P-a-s-s-y," the message read. C-o-m-e 
 q-u-i-c-k." 
 
 Duvall s head reeled, as he spelled out the 
 words. He had not realized until now that he 
 was wounded. The blood, pouring down his face 
 from the great gash in his cheek, spattered thickly 
 upon the window sill. He turned from the win 
 dow, then realized that he must send some answer, 
 to let this mysterious person at the other end of 
 the line know that his message had been safely 
 received. 
 
 "Will come at once. Who are you?" he spelled 
 out, laboriously, his head spinning, his fingers 
 trembling from weakness as he tried to stop the 
 flow of blood from his wound. 
 
 "G-R-A-C-E D-U-V-A-L-L" came back the 
 flashes, quick, clear cut, unmistakable. 
 
 Duvall dropped the searchlight to the floor 
 with a harsh laugh. His brain was reeling the 
 whole thing became a foolish, senseless nightmare. 
 He wondered if he was delirious, and had 
 dreamed it all. Again he flashed a signal into the 
 darkness. "Who are you?" he spelled out again. 
 He did not believe that he had read the former 
 answer aright. Evidently his imagination was
 
 268 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 playing him tricks Grace had been on his mind 
 so constantly, throughout the day. He wiped the 
 blood from his eyes and stared eagerly out into 
 the darkness. There was no response. 
 
 Then he remembered the words of the message, 
 "Come quick." There was no time for idle 
 speculations as to the identity of the person who 
 had sent him the message. 
 
 He rushed to the stairs, and with tottering foot 
 steps descended to the library below. Francois, 
 the chauffeur, still lay, bound and unconscious, 
 upon the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 FOR a few moments after being left alone 
 in the studio at Passy, Grace almost lost 
 her courage. She knew that the man who 
 had remained on guard in the room had received 
 the danger signal the red light which told him 
 that the plans of his confederates had miscarried. 
 She remembered the instructions which the black- 
 bearded man had given him. "If I do not meet 
 you at Martelle s, take the boy to Lavillac. And 
 before you do so, cut off his left hand and send it 
 to Mr. Stapleton." 
 
 The very thought of the thing made her sick. 
 She rushed to the door, and tore frantically at 
 the knob; but it resisted all her efforts. She 
 glanced at the windows, knowing that to escape 
 by means of them from her position on the top 
 floor of the house was impossible. And then 
 should she escape, she would be obliged to leave 
 the child, and this she by no means wanted to do. 
 
 269
 
 270 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Suddenly she heard again the faint moaning. 
 The sound almost drove her frantic. She rushed 
 to the window and looked out, praying for guid 
 ance, for some ray of hope in the frightful situa 
 tion in which she found herself. 
 
 Already several minutes had passed since the 
 departure of the man. It would not be long, she 
 felt, before he returned, and, for all she knew, the 
 black-bearded man with him. Would they attack 
 her, if they found her there? She could hide 
 again, of course; but that would not accomplish 
 anything, except perhaps, to save herself. And 
 she had set out to rescue the child. 
 
 In a whirl of indecision, she glanced out of the 
 window, toward the point in the north where she 
 had seen the red light. She wondered where it 
 was, from what place it had been sent. Then 
 suddenly, as she swept the horizon with eager 
 eyes, she saw, where a few moments before the 
 red light had flashed, a gleam of blue. Unlike 
 the red signal, however, which had been steady, 
 as though fixed in place, this one moved about 
 restlessly, now pointing full at her, now almost 
 disappearing to the right or left. 
 
 She seized the field glasses and gazed at the 
 light in wonder. Did this mean that the kidnap-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 271 
 
 pers had been successful, after all, and that the 
 former signal had been a mistake, or did it indi 
 cate that the person giving the first signal had 
 been overpowered, and that the light was in the 
 hands of friends? 
 
 She had no means of knowing; but here was 
 someone who was trying to send her word that all 
 was well. She determined to reply. 
 
 Her one thought was to get to Mr. Stapleton 
 her present address. She knew that the man who 
 had been intrusted with the task of telephoning it 
 to the banker v would not now do so. She would 
 try to send the address herself. 
 
 Then came to her a great feeling of joy, that 
 she was familiar with the Morse code. Richard 
 had taught it to her, during their trip from Paris 
 to New York the year before. She remembered 
 how she had been interested in the wireless, 
 and Richard had offered to teach her the 
 alphabet. 
 
 She picked up the searchlight and examined it. 
 It was an ordinary pocket lamp, with a dry bat 
 tery, such as are sold at stores dealing in electrical 
 goods, and she saw, from its size, that it was an 
 unusually powerful one. 
 
 Midway along one side was a tiny button, by
 
 272 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 pressing which the circuit was completed, 
 the light made to flash. By pressing this button 
 momentarily, she could get a quick flash, compara 
 ble to a dot. By holding it down longer, she 
 could produce a dash. 
 
 She did not stop to remove the red glass which 
 was fixed over the front of the light; in fact, she 
 concluded that it would be better to let it remain. 
 There were many white lights all about among 
 them, her own would have but a small chance 
 of being seen. But red was significant, conspicu 
 ous, indicative of danger, and that she was in 
 grave danger she very well knew. 
 
 She decided to first send the word "help." She 
 knew that if the person receiving the message was 
 a friend, he would at once ask where she was, 
 since that would be to Mr. Stapleton and his party 
 the most essential and important news she could 
 give. 
 
 On the other hand, were it to be received by 
 one of the kidnappers, he would* ask her, not 
 1 where she was, but what was the matter. 
 
 Painfully, fearful of mistakes, she deciphered 
 the message which slowly flashed across the mile 
 of night. "Where are you." 
 
 With trembling fingers, she spelled out her
 
 With trembling fingers she spelled out her reply, giving the address and 
 
 adflincr " ( ntnp murk- I " 
 
 adding, " Come quick !
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 273 
 
 reply, giving the address and adding, "Come 
 quick." When she got the answer, "Will come 
 at once," she felt that there was still a chance 
 that the boy might be saved. Then came the re 
 quest for her name. She gave this impatiently. 
 What difference did it matter, so long as they 
 came quickly. 
 
 She hastily lighted a candle which stood upon 
 the table, then cast about her for some means 
 whereby she might prevent the black-bearded man 
 and his companion from entering the room, in 
 case they should return before help arrived. 
 There was one thing, of course, that she could 
 do, barricade the door. 
 
 But, with the exception of the table and the 
 light iron bed, there was nothing with which she 
 could hope to secure it. Suddenly her eyes fell 
 upon the great plaster centaur. It was a figure 
 such as one might see in any art gallery or mu 
 seum. It stood upon a plaster slab some six inches 
 thick, which in turn rested upon a low wooden 
 base. The figure was at least five feet high a 
 horse with a human torso and head. She knew 
 that if she could jam this in front of the door, 
 securing it in place with the bed and table, she 
 might prevent the kidnappers from entering for
 
 274 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 some little time; long enough, she hoped, to in 
 sure the arrival of the police before they had 
 succeeded in breaking in. 
 
 She wondered if she could manage to move 
 the thing. At first sight, it seemed impossible, and 
 yet the base might by chance be fitted with rollers 
 or casters. She rushed over to the figure and 
 began to tug at it with all her strength. 
 
 She needed but a moment to discover that she 
 could not possibly move it ; but as she bent over it, 
 her head close to its side, she heard something 
 which made her start with sudden joy. 
 
 It was the low sobbing of a child the same 
 moaning sound which she had heard from time 
 to time ever since she had first entered the room. 
 
 At times the sound had appeared to come from 
 afar off; at others, it had seemed to be close at 
 hand, as though originating at some point in the 
 very air about her. 
 
 All of a sudden the truth came to her like a 
 flash. The child was concealed within the hollow 
 body of the statue. The thing seemed so simple, 
 so apparent, that she wondered that it had not 
 occurred to her before. 
 
 She gave up her attempt to barricade the door, 
 and began feverishly to look for the opening in
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 275 
 
 the plaster cast through which the child must have 
 entered. 
 
 It took but a few moments to find it. The 
 whole side of the horse s body had been sawed 
 free, by two longitudinal cuts, one along the back, 
 the other along the belly, and two similar cuts, 
 at the shoulder, and the flank. Heavy strips of 
 canvas, glued across the lower cut, on the under 
 side of the horse s belly, served as hinges, and 
 were not visible from above. 
 
 She inserted the blade of a modeling tool 
 which she caught up from the table, in the upper 
 longitudinal cut, and pried the plaster side of the 
 Vorse free. It fell heavily toward her, disclosing 
 a long narrow opening; the interior, in fact, of 
 the statue, where lay, upon a sort of bed made of 
 an old comfort, the missing son of Mr. Stapleton. 
 
 The boy, who had evidently until a moment 
 before been asleep, gazed up at her in surprised 
 alarm. For over two weeks, now, he had been 
 kept from his parents, made to move about from 
 place to place, frightened by strange men. He 
 had come to expect the unusual, the terrifying, 
 and it was a scared little face that looked appeal- 
 ingly up at the girl as she bent over him. 
 
 For the time being she forgot the dangers which
 
 276 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 surrounded them, in her joy at the discovery of 
 the boy. It had come so suddenly, so unexpect 
 edly. If she could only escape, now, with the 
 child, nothing else would matter in the least. And 
 between her and freedom there lay but the thick 
 ness of a single door, and yet it seemed that she 
 could not pass it. 
 
 She lifted the child from his hiding place and 
 stood him upon the floor, then quickly swung the 
 heavy slab of plaster back into position. At least, 
 she reasoned, the kidnappers, when they returned, 
 should not at once learn that their captive had 
 escaped. 
 
 She knew that the hiding place had been but a 
 temporary one, a means whereby the child might 
 be kept out of sight during the day in case 
 strangers should happen to enter the room. As 
 soon as the kidnappers returned, they would, she 
 realized, spirit the child away to some more secure 
 retreat. 
 
 She went to the door and again shook it fran 
 tically, pulling at the knob with all her strength, 
 without producing the slightest result. The lock 
 was evidently a strong one the door held firm 
 and unyielding, though she threw against it her 
 entire weight.
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 277 
 
 Evidently there was no hope of escape here. 
 Then she again bethought herself of the window. 
 For a moment she gazed out into the darkness. 
 The pavement was thirty feet below. No one 
 was in sight. How could she ever reach the 
 ground, with the child as well, even if she had 
 possessed a rope? The thing was impossible. 
 
 Clearly there was nothing to do but wait. Pos 
 sibly the assistance she expected from her friends, 
 or the police, would arrive very soon surely she 
 could in some way keep the kidnappers occupied 
 until then ! 
 
 And suddenly she realized that the time had 
 come. She heard the door of the house close 
 softly, and upon the stair the sound of mounting 
 footsteps. 
 
 Which was it, the police, or the kidnappers? 
 The latter, she felt morally certain, since the for 
 mer, in their haste to rescue the child, would 
 beyond any question have arrived in an automo 
 bile, and at top speed. 
 
 The newcomers were mounting the stairs in a 
 leisurely manner, as though free from any anxiety. 
 Grace heard them pause for a moment on the 
 first landing, then start up the second flight of 
 stairs. It seemed to her out of the question, to
 
 278 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 stand in the middle of the room and await their 
 entrance. At least she could postpone the fatal 
 moment a little while, by hiding, with the boy, 
 in the closet. She stepped into it, the child s hand 
 in hers, and drew the door shut, just as the two 
 men entered the room. On her way, she hastily 
 blew out the candle. 
 
 They were the same two men that she had seen 
 before, the black-bearded man, now without his 
 beard, and the artist, Durand. She saw this, as 
 soon as the latter had relit the candle. She won 
 dered if he would notice that the wick was still 
 warm. Evidently he did not; for they threw 
 themselves into chairs, lit cigarettes, and began to 
 talk. 
 
 "Now we can speak freely," said Durand. 
 "How did things go?" 
 
 "I got the money gave the blue signal, and 
 expected to be halfway to Brussels by now. What 
 nonsense is this about a red light?" 
 
 "It is no nonsense, I assure you. I saw it with 
 my own eyes, as plain as day." 
 
 "Then Francois must have made a mistake, or 
 else he has been placed under arrest the latter, 
 no doubt. Now the question is, What shall we 
 do? I think we ought to get out of Paris as soon
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 279 
 
 as possible. It isn t safe to stay here." He looked 
 about him nervously. 
 
 "Why not? You didn t telephone Monsieur 
 Stapleton this address, did you?" 
 
 "No, naturally not." 
 
 "Then I don t see but what we are quite safe. 
 No one knows the child is here." 
 
 "Then you don t intend to give him up?" 
 
 "Not yet. I must first find out whether or not 
 Francois is in trouble." 
 
 "Let him look out for himself." 
 
 The older man frowned. "Since when, my 
 friend," he asked, "have I been in the habit of 
 deserting my comrades? Frangois must go free, 
 or Mr. Stapleton does not get his boy. That s 
 flat. The first thing is to send his father some 
 thing that will let him see that we mean busi 
 ness." 
 
 "We ve got to be sure about Frangois, first." 
 
 "I ll find that out, tonight. My plan is this. 
 We must first get the child away to Lavillac s 
 place. This is too unsafe, here. Anyone might 
 come in." 
 
 "They d have difficulty in finding the hiding 
 place." The younger man grinned. 
 
 "That s all very well; but the other place is
 
 280 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 safer. And then Lavillac s woman can look 
 after the brat while we are away. What a pity 
 Francois had to get into a mess at the last mo 
 ment! I hoped to be rid of the boy, by now." 
 The older man rose and began striding up and 
 down the room. 
 
 "Well," he said at length, sharply, "we might 
 as well get along. I move thai we wrap the boy 
 in a coat, take him down to the car, run quickly 
 out to Lavillac s place, leave him there, and start 
 for Brussels at once. The rest we can do by 
 phone. Francois set free the boy the same. 
 Meanwhile, we ve got to show this man Stapleton 
 we mean business; so we d better arrange to send 
 him one of the kid s hands at once. If we don t, 
 he ll have the whole Paris police force after 
 us." 
 
 "All right. I ll get him out." He strode 
 quickly over to the statue, pulled out the side, and 
 gazed blankly into the empty space before him. 
 
 "Sacre! The child s gone!" he exclaimed, ex 
 citedly. "Somebody has been here in this room 
 since I left it, half an hour ago." 
 
 "The door was locked." 
 
 "I know; but somebody s been here, neverthe 
 less, for the child is gone."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 281 
 
 "He may not be gone, Durand. It is true that 
 he is no longer in the horse; but he may be in 
 the room, for all that. Search the closet." 
 
 The man named Durand stepped quickly to 
 the closet door. "Not much chance," he 
 grumbled. "And if the police knew that he was 
 here, and have spirited him away, they may even 
 now be waiting to spring a trap of which you and 
 I are the rats. For all we know the place is 
 surrounded at this very moment." 
 
 "Then the sooner we get away from it the bet 
 ter. Search the closet. If he s not there, we d 
 better make tracks for the frontier as quickly as 
 possible. We can do nothing more without the 
 child. Francois will have to look out for him 
 self." 
 
 Durand went impatiently up to the closet 
 door and flung it open, then both he and his com 
 panion recoiled in surprise as Grace stepped out, 
 holding the child by the hand. 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" gasped the two men in unison. 
 
 The one who had worn the black beard was 
 the first to recover himself. "Quick!" he cried, 
 motioning toward Grace. "The woman is a de 
 tective. Tie her up, and let s get away at once. 
 No doubt she has sent word to her friends. We
 
 282 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 can t afford to stay here another minute." He 
 seemed greatly excited and, rushing to the window, 
 inspected the silent street below. 
 
 Durand, meanwhile, had thrown himself upon 
 the girl, seized her hands, and with a quick motion 
 had secured them with a bit of cord he snatched 
 from within the closet. 
 
 She offered no resistance, made no outcry. 
 Both seemed equally useless. The boy stood by, 
 watching the scene in childish wonder. So many 
 queer things had happpened to him, however, dur 
 ing the past few days, that he, too, remained 
 silent. 
 
 In a moment the older man withdrew his head 
 from the window, rushed to the closet, and draw 
 ing out a long gray coat, wrapped it about the 
 child. "You will come along with us, Mademoi 
 selle," he said sternly. "Make no attempt to 
 escape, if you value your life." 
 
 "But what do we want with her?" the 
 younger man asked, impatiently. 
 
 "You fool ! Would you leave her here, to give 
 our description to the police? It would mean 
 certain capture in a few hours. This woman has 
 got to be put where she can do no harm until we 
 are safely over the frontier. It may be wiser to
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 283 
 
 silence her altogether. We ll decide about that 
 when we reach Lavillac s. The first thing is to 
 get out of this house without losing a moment s 
 time. Come!" He started for the door. 
 
 As he did so, Grace heard, far off, the steady 
 throbbing of an automobile. She felt a wave of 
 hope sweep over her. It might be her friends, 
 coming to her assistance. If so, they might yet 
 arrive in time. 
 
 The two men evidently also heard the sound. 
 "Hurry hurry!" the older one urged, as they 
 began to descend the stairs. "They may be on 
 us at any moment. Go out the rear way." 
 
 Grace heard the sounds of the approaching 
 automobile growing more and more distinct. In 
 another minute it would stop before the door of 
 the house. But in that minute her captors would 
 not only have been able to descend the stairs, but 
 would already be making good their escape 
 through the garden at the rear of the building. 
 
 She must do something, she knew, to prevent 
 this; but what what? Bound as she was, how 
 could she hope to prevent the escape of these men. 
 She looked ahead of her, to where, a step or two 
 in advance, the man of the black beard was 
 hastily descending the stairs, the boy firmly held
 
 284 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 in his arms. Behind her came his companion, 
 candle in hand, close at her heels. 
 
 They were within half a dozen steps of the 
 lower hall. From this she could see a dark pas 
 sageway, leading to the rear of the house. 
 Already the noise of the automobile without told 
 her that it was stopping at the door. She heard 
 the sound of rapid footsteps on the sidewalk; yet 
 realized that, before her friends could break in, 
 their quarry would have flown. 
 
 Without a moment s hesitation she sprang for 
 ward, throwing her whole weight upon the man 
 in front of her. 
 
 The sudden shock, as she precipitated herself 
 upon his shoulders, threw him off his balance, and 
 he pitched forward headlong into the hallway 
 below. The two of them, together with the 
 child, rolled in a tangled heap to the floor. The 
 second man, candle in hand, stopped on the stairs 
 and gazed helplessly down, not realizing for a 
 moment what had happened. 
 
 "Help! Help!" Grace screamed at the top of 
 her voice, as she struggled to regain her feet, and 
 at the same moment there came the sound of 
 heavy blows upon the front door 
 
 The man who had been carrying the child rose
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 285 
 
 to his feet with an oath, just as his companion 
 joined him. He turned on Grace with a howl 
 of fury, and struck her a quick blow in the face. 
 She had a confused vision of fleeing men, the 
 dancing light of a candle, a rush of fresh air, and 
 then all was blotted out in a wave of oblivion.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE startling and dramatic entrance of 
 Richard Duvall into Mr. Stapleton s 
 library, ending with his announcement oi 
 the whereabouts of the kidnapped child, and his 
 subsequent collapse, threw the entire party Into 
 confusion. 
 
 Mrs. Stapleton started up with a scream, her 
 overwrought nerves no longer able to resist the 
 frightful strain under which she had for so many 
 days been laboring. 
 
 Her husband, who had completely forgotten 
 the detective s presence in the house, in his anxious 
 vigil at the telephone, called out instantly to one 
 of the servants, ordering him to tell Francois to 
 bring his automobile to the door. 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre, accompanied by Vernet, 
 sprang quickly to Duvall s assistance. The Pre 
 fect felt that, if the latter s statement was correct, 
 he had won out in the long duel for the honor 
 of recovering the kidnapped child; but no con- 
 
 286
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 287 
 
 sideration of this nature could make him any less 
 concerned for the detective s welfare, or any the 
 less thankful that, no matter by whose efforts, 
 the missing child had at last been located. He 
 had hoped that to Grace Duvall would ultimately 
 fall the prize of success; but these things were, 
 after all, of no serious weight, compared with 
 the great fact, that the success had at last come. 
 
 Assisted by Vernet, he placed Duvall upon a 
 couch, and called for brandy, and a basin of cold 
 water. 
 
 In a few moments, under Vernet s skilful min 
 istrations, the detective s wound had been washed 
 and temporarily bound up, and he had been re 
 stored to consciousness. A little of the brandy 
 soon served to dispel his faintness. He declared 
 himself ready to accompany the expedition to 
 Passy. 
 
 The Prefect endeavored to dissuade him; but 
 to no purpose. The message which he had re 
 ceived in the chauffeur s room, to the effect that 
 the person calling for help was Grace Duvall, 
 his own wife, seemed so mysterious, so utterly in 
 explicable to him, that he could conceive no rea 
 sonable explanation for it. There was but one 
 thing to do, to go himself and sift the matter
 
 288 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 to the bottom. He did not expect to find Grace 
 there, and yet what else could the message 
 mean? 
 
 Just as he staggered to his feet, with the an 
 nouncement that he would accompany the party 
 to Passy, two of the servants rushed into the 
 library, and with scared faces announced that 
 Francois lay, bound and unconscious, on the floor 
 of his room. Mr. Stapleton looked quickly at 
 Duvall. 
 
 "It s all right, Mr. Stapleton," exclaimed the 
 detective. "The fellow is one of the gan^." He 
 
 o o 
 
 turned to Monsieur Lefevre. "You d better have 
 him placed under arrest at once. And if your car 
 is here, we ll use that, instead of Mr. Stapleton s. 
 There s not a moment to be lost." 
 
 "By all means. My automobile is at the door. 
 Vernet," he turned to his assistant, "have one of 
 your men take charge of this fellow Francois 
 at once. We must set out immediately." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton took his wife in his arms, and 
 embraced her tenderly. "Don t worry, dear," he 
 said. "I ll be back with the boy, inside of half 
 an hour. Come along!" he shouted to the others, 
 as he made for the door. "No time to waste 
 
 now."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 289 
 
 In a few moments the entire party, consisting 
 of Mr. Stapleton, Duvall, Monsieur Lefevre, Ver- 
 net, and the Prefect s chauffeur, were driving to 
 ward Passy at a rate which set at naught all speed 
 regulations and sent the few pedestrians who hap 
 pened to cross their path scampering to the side 
 walk for safety. 
 
 Duvall explained, as they went along, the 
 mysterious messages which he had received 
 by flashlight. No one understood them but 
 Monsieur Lefevre. He gave a great sigh of 
 relief. The continued and unexplained absence 
 of Grace had alarmed him greatly. Now he 
 began to understand the reasons for it. That 
 part of Duvall s story which spoke of haste, the 
 appeal for prompt assistance, made him look 
 grave. He leaned over to his chauffeur and urged 
 him to even greater speed. 
 
 The trees and houses along the Avenue Kleber, 
 and later the Rue Franklin, swept by the speed 
 ing machine in a whirl of dust. In what seemed 
 an incredibly short time the automobile dashed 
 into the Rue Nicolo, and thundered up to No. 42. 
 
 Vernet was the first to ascend the steps of the 
 house, closely followed by Duvall and the others 
 of the party. As they reached the front door,
 
 190 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 and rapped loudly, they all heard a sudden com 
 motion within, followed by cries and shouts and 
 a fall. Instantly all four threw their combined 
 weight against the door, shattering the lock and 
 bursting it in. 
 
 The semidarkness showed a terrifying spec 
 tacle. On the floor lay a woman, unconscious, 
 clutching in her arms a child, trapped in a long 
 gray coat. Down the dark hallway leading to 
 the rear of the house dashed the figures of two 
 men. One of them turned, as the attacking party 
 entered, and hurled the lighted candle which he 
 bore full into their faces. The entire scene was 
 instantly plunged into darkness. 
 
 The momentary light of the candle, however, 
 had been sufficient to send a thrill of joy through 
 at least one of the entering party. Mr. Stapleton 
 recognized, in the white and tearful face of the 
 child, his kidnapped boy, and, stooping, raised him 
 tenderly in his arms. 
 
 Duvall, not knowing whether the unconscious 
 woman was the supposed agent of the police, 
 Mademoiselle Goncourt, or Grace, his wife, lifted 
 her in his arms and carried her out into the air. 
 
 Vernet, followed by the Prefect, and the chauf 
 feur, who had at once joined them, dashed fear-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 291 
 
 lessly along the dark passage by which the two 
 men were attempting to escape. 
 
 There was a crash, as the rear door was burst 
 out, followed by a volley of shots as Vernet opened 
 upon the fleeing men with his automatic re 
 volver. 
 
 In a moment the affair was over. The foremost 
 of the two men crumpled up before he had taken 
 half a dozen strides through the garden, and his 
 companion raised his hands and surrendered, beg 
 ging for mercy. Within a few moments he was 
 handcuffed, and Vernet, bending over his wounded 
 companion, was directing the chauffeur to summon 
 an ambulance at once. 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre returned hastily to the street. 
 His sole concern now was for Grace. He prayed 
 fervently that no serious harm had befallen her, 
 and realized that Duvall was likely to resent bit 
 terly the deception which has been practised upon 
 him. 
 
 The latter, however, was in no mood for re 
 criminations. No sooner had he carried his un 
 conscious burden to the street, when Grace opened 
 her eyes, threv/ her arms about his neck, and 
 kissed him. 
 
 "Richard Richard !" she cried, happily. "I m
 
 292 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 so glad so glad!" then rested content in his 
 arms. 
 
 The detective s brain was in a whirl. In no 
 possible way could he account for the presence 
 here, in Paris, under such tragic and inexplicable 
 circumstances, of the wife w r hom he had left, so 
 short a time before, peacefully sitting on the rose- 
 covered porch of their home in Maryland. The 
 thing seemed incredible, unbelievable ; yet here 
 was Grace, with her soft arms about his neck, her 
 kisses on his lips, to prove its reality. 
 
 He looked at Monsieur Lefevre dully as the 
 latter joined them upon the sidewalk, but could 
 say nothing. 
 
 "It seems," remarked the Prefect, with a grave 
 smile, "that not only has Mr. Stapleton found his 
 boy, but you have found your wife." 
 
 Duvall frowned. "What is she doing here?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "We will speak of that later, my friend," ob 
 served Lefevre, quietly. "Just at present I pro 
 pose that we return to Mr. Stapleton s without 
 a moment s delay. Her heart is breaking with 
 anxiety." He took Grace s arm and assisted her 
 to enter the automobile, where Mr. Stapleton had 
 already preceded them with his son. "It is to
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 293 
 
 you, my dear child," he said to Grace, as she sunk 
 weakly back upon the cushioned seat, "that Mrs. 
 Stapleton will owe all her happiness." 
 
 It was a cheerful party that broke in upon the 
 banker s wife a short time later. Duvall, under 
 the stimulus of Grace s presence, had completely 
 forgotten his wound; while Grace, who had been 
 but momentarily stunned by the blow which the 
 kidnapper had given her, was radiant with joy at 
 once more feeling her husband s arms about 
 her. 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre carried them both off to his 
 house, as soon as the boy had been restored to 
 his mother. The happiness of the banker s re 
 united family was too great to permit them to be 
 even mildly interested in the affairs of Richard 
 Duvall and his wife, and they, too, wished to be 
 alone. It seemed to them both as though ages 
 had passed since they had seen each other; they 
 could scarcely realize that it had been but a little 
 over two weeks. Richard especially seemed 
 unable to grasp the truth of the situation. He 
 plied Grace with numberless questions, and could 
 scarcely believe that he had actually been within 
 arm s length of her on at least four different occa 
 sions during the past week without knowing it.
 
 294 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre advised him to leave the 
 whole matter until the next day. "You should 
 be proud of your wife, Monsieur," he said, 
 gravely. "But for her, I doubt if Monsieur 
 Stapleton would ever have seen his boy again. 
 And that reminds me," he smiled mischievously, 
 "that I have won that little bet. It was Made 
 moiselle Goncourt, of my office, that recovered 
 the lost child." 
 
 "I think the honors are pretty evenly divided, 
 Monsieur," laughed Grace, happily, as she pressed 
 her husband s hand. "Don t forget that if 
 Richard hadn t gotten my message, all my work 
 would have gone for nothing." 
 
 "Suppose we call it a draw, then," said the Pre 
 fect. "All in the family, as you Americans say. 
 And to show that I am not prejudiced, one way or 
 the other, I suggest that you both, with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Stapleton, dine with me tomorrow evening. 
 There are many points connected with this case 
 which are by no means cleared up, and we should 
 talk them over. Although we have secured the 
 missing child, and three of the kidnappers, we 
 do not yet know how the child was stolen, or 
 whether the nurse, Mary Lanahan, is innocent or
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 295 
 
 guilty of any part in his mysterious disappearance 
 in the Bois de Boulogne. I confess that I have all 
 along considered her guilty, and am inclined to 
 order her arrest at once." 
 
 "It will be useless, Monsieur," remarked Du- 
 vall, quietly. "She is entirely innocent." 
 
 "You mean that she knows nothing of how the 
 boy was spirited away?" 
 
 "Nothing!" 
 
 "Mon Dieu! Then the thing may forever re 
 main a mystery." 
 
 "Not at all. It is simple enough." 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre turned to him with a look 
 of inquiry. "You mean, then, /that you have 
 solved it?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Then may I ask that you will be good enough 
 to explain it at once?" 
 
 Duvall laughed. "Monsieur Lefevre," he 
 said, "I have a splitting headache, a bad wound 
 in my cheek, and a burning desire to spend the 
 next two hours talking to my wife." He drew 
 Grace toward him, and put his arm through hers. 
 * I am very much afraid that the explanation of
 
 296 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 the disappearance of Mr. Stapleton s boy will 
 have to be put off until tomorrow." 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre watched the two as they 
 went, arm in arm, up the stairs. 
 
 "Mon Dieu !" he said softly to himself. "They 
 are just as much in love with each other as 
 ever."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MUST confess," remarked Monsieur Le- 
 fevre, as he sat with Mr. Stapleton and 
 Duvall over their after dinner cigars the 
 following evening, "that while the case as a whole 
 appears simple enough to me, there are one or 
 two points that I fail to understand." 
 
 "There are a great many that / fail to under 
 stand," exclaimed the banker, chewing reflec 
 tively on his cigar. "However, now that the boy 
 is safe at home, it really makes very little differ 
 ence." 
 
 "On the contrary, Mr. Stapleton," remarked 
 Duvall, "it makes a great deal of difference. 
 For instance, I understand that you have dis 
 charged the nurse, Mary Lanahan." 
 
 "Yes. You say that she is quite innocent of 
 any part in the kidnapping of my boy; but the fact 
 remains that I don t trust her. I am informed 
 that she was married to that fellow, Valentin, this 
 afternoon." 
 
 297
 
 298 
 
 Duvall smiled. "That was quite to be ex 
 pected." 
 
 "At one time," said Mr. Stapleton, "you be 
 lieved this fellow Valentin to have been concerned 
 in the plot." 
 
 "Yes. That is true. My early investigations 
 of the matter showed me at once that there was 
 some understanding between these two, some 
 thing which they were endeavoring to conceal. 
 I did not at first understand the motive which 
 actuated them. I thought it was guilt. In reality, 
 it was love. Therefore I am not surprised to 
 learn of their marriage." He gazed critically at 
 his cigar for a time, in silence. 
 
 "As matters have turned out, gentlemen," he 
 resumed, after a few moments, "there is no cause 
 for anything but congratulation on all hands. 
 The child is recovered, the criminals are under 
 arrest, the money the hundred thousand dol 
 lars you paid out, Mr. Stapleton was found 
 on the kidnapper s person and returned to 
 you." 
 
 "Exactly. Nothing could be more satisfactory 
 all around." 
 
 "And yet," went on the detective, "I have never 
 before taken part in a case in which I have done
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 299 
 
 so little, in which I have been so uniformly un 
 successful." 
 
 Mr. Stapleton raised his hand. "My dear Du- 
 vall," he began, "but for you, we should have 
 been nowhere." 
 
 "You are wrong, my friend. Had I kept out 
 of the case altogether, your son would have been 
 returned to you just the same. It is true that 
 the men who kidnapped him would not have been 
 caught, and your money would not have been 
 returned to you; but the prime object which you 
 sought, the recovery of your child, would have 
 been realized in any event." 
 
 "That is true," remarked the Prefect; "but, 
 from the standpoint of the police, it is the detec 
 tion and capture of the criminal that is desired, 
 not the buying of him off. By insisting on that, 
 Mr. Stapleton, you rendered our work extremely 
 difficult." 
 
 "So difficult, indeed," said Duvall, earnestly, 
 "that but for the energy, the courage, the wit of 
 a woman, all our plans would have failed. I 
 refer to my wife. It is to her that all the credit 
 in this affair is due." 
 
 "By all means!" said Mr. Stapleton. "I could 
 not fail to realize, when she told her story at
 
 300 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 dinner tonight, how much Mrs. Stapleton and my 
 self owe her. I shall have something to say on 
 the subject of our debt, as soon as the ladies 
 rejoin us. But tell us, Mr. Duvall, a little more 
 about the case, as you now understand it. 
 I confess that I am becoming more and more in 
 terested. What, for instance, was the mystery, 
 if indeed there was any, connected with the box 
 of gold-tipped cigarettes?" 
 
 Duvall smiled. "That, my dear sir, is in 
 fact the crux, the starting point, of the whole 
 affair." He settled back in his chair comfortably. 
 "Otherwise the case was simple enough. Certain 
 scoundrels steal a child, hold it for ransom, and 
 frighten the parents into paying over a large sum. 
 Nothing unusual in that. A clever scheme or two 
 for turning the money over, and returning the 
 child simple, yet perfect enough to defy all at 
 tempts to foil them. 
 
 "The real mystery lay in the utter absence of 
 any clues which would throw light on the actual 
 stealing of the child. In this respect the case 
 was unique. A trusted nurse swears that the 
 child has disappeared in broad daylight, without 
 the slightest knowledge of how it was accom 
 plished. Here we have a case so simple, so
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 301 
 
 devoid of incident of any sort, that we are baffled 
 at the very start by the impossibility of the thing. 
 Yet the nurse is a woman of good reputation, 
 honest, clearly telling what she believes to be the 
 truth. 
 
 "But a single clue existed upon which I could 
 build the least semblance of a case. I refer to 
 the half-smoked cigarette with the gold tip, which 
 I discovered in the grass at the scene of the crime. 
 Without that apparently trivial clue, the criminals 
 would in all probability never have been captured 
 at all." 
 
 "But," exclaimed Mr. Stapleton, "I don t see 
 how you make that out." 
 
 "Nor I," observed the Prefect. 
 
 "No. I suppose not. And yet, it is simple 
 enough. That half-smoked cigarette and nothing 
 else is the basic reason for the arrest of the three 
 men now in your hands." 
 
 Monsieur Lefevre smiled. "Be good enough," 
 he said, "to explain." 
 
 "Very well, I will. But first, let me indicate 
 to you my course of reasoning. When I originally 
 found the cigarette, I regarded it as of very small 
 value, from the standpoint of evidence. It hap 
 pened to be lying in the grass at the point where
 
 3C2 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 the crime occurred; but during the week or more 
 which had elapsed between the stealing of the 
 boy and my examination of the ground, a hundred 
 people might have walked over the spot. I took 
 it, because I realized that it might have a bearing 
 on the case, and I have learned to discard no clue, 
 however trifling it may appear, until it has been 
 proven valueless. 
 
 "Now to go back to the cigarette, I observed 
 at once that it was of American make, yet of such 
 small size as to have been either used by a woman, 
 or by a man of rather effeminate taste. 
 
 "Now if the cigarette had been used by a 
 woman, it meant one of two things. Either it 
 was used by Mary Lanahan herself, in which case 
 it apparently proved nothing, or by some other 
 woman who was there with her, and who might 
 have had a hand in the kidnapping. 
 
 "On the other hand, if used by a man, it pointed 
 clearly to the chauffeur, Valentin, for several 
 reasons. He was a friend, a former lover, of the 
 nurse. He had been discharged by Mr. Staple- 
 ton for dishonesty. He was, I had reason to know, 
 of rather a weak and effeminate type. The cigar 
 ette was of American make, and he had but re 
 cently come from America. These things pointed
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 303 
 
 to Valentin. The fact that the nurse was in love 
 with him would cause her to shield him. I deter 
 mined to try the matter out at once. 
 
 "As soon as I returned to the house, therefore, 
 I confronted her, and asked her if Valentin 
 smoked gold-tipped cigarettes. I did this, not 
 because I expected to get any reply of value, but 
 because I wished to observe her manner, her face, 
 when I flung the question at her. 
 
 "She was greatly startled. She denied that 
 Valentin smoked. Fifteen minutes later, she sent 
 him a message to destroy the cigarettes. 
 
 "I at once concluded that they were working 
 together, and were both guilty, a conclusion in 
 which, however much I was justified by the evi 
 dence, I was quite wrong. 
 
 "Then came the attempt on the part of some 
 one the man with the black beard, I am told 
 to steal the cigarettes from Valentin. I learned 
 that the man was followed to Mr. Stapleton s 
 house. 
 
 "This at once threw a new light upon the mat 
 ter, although I will admit a confusing one. Some 
 one else, besides the nurse, desired the box of 
 cigarettes removed as evidence; someone, in fact, 
 who belonged to, or had friends in, the house.
 
 304 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 Who could this be ? I could think of n one, out 
 side of Mary Lanahan herself, but the chauiieur, 
 Francois." 
 
 "Why did you first suspect him? " asked Mr. 
 Stapleton. 
 
 "Because he was the only person, besides the 
 nurse, who was present at the time of the kid 
 napping. I did not abandon my suspicions of 
 either the nurse or Valentin. I fully believed 
 that they knew a great deal more about the affair 
 than they admitted. But I became convinced that 
 Francois, too, was in the thing. He had testified 
 that he was asleep when the affair occurred. I 
 concluded -at once that he was lying. 
 
 "At the first opportunity, therefore, I made a 
 thorough search of his room, and found the box 
 of cigarettes hidden in a clock on his mantel." 
 
 "Ha! I did not know that," exclaimed the 
 Prefect. "What were they doing there?" 
 
 I concluded that the fellow with the black 
 beard who stole them from Valentin, in order to 
 prevent their use as evidence against him, turned 
 them over to Frangois for a definite purpose." 
 
 "And that purpose was?" 
 
 "Their use in subsequent crimes of a similar" 
 nature."
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 305 
 
 Mr. Stapleton and the Prefect gazed at Duvall 
 in bewilderment. "Explain yourself, my friend," 
 exclaimed the latter. "I confess I do not under 
 stand what you are talking about. Who, may I 
 ask, really smoked the cigarette, the remains of 
 which you found in the grass?" 
 
 "Mary Lanahan," said the detective, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "The nurse! Name of a dog! Then I fail 
 to see that the matter is of the slightest importance 
 one way or the other." 
 
 "On the contrary, Monsieur, it is of the great 
 est importance. May I ask whether you are, by 
 any chance, familiar with the properties of an 
 Eastern drug, made from hemp, and generally 
 known as hashish?" 
 
 The Prefect sat up suddenly, and clapped his 
 hands to his knees. "Mon Dieu !" he exclaimed. 
 "Now I begin to understand." 
 
 "More than I do," said Mr. Stapleton. 
 
 "The cigarettes were drugged, that is all," 
 went on Duvall. "The men who planned this 
 thing went to work very carefully. They ascer 
 tained, through Francois, that Mary Lanahan was 
 in the habit, no doubt on the sly, of using cigar 
 ettes. I discovered the fact, myself, before I
 
 306 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 left New York. They also learned that she 
 smoked the same brand as Mrs. Stapleton herself 
 used. No doubt she helped herself from Mrs. 
 Stapleton s supply. They therefore secured, also 
 through Frangois, a box of these cigarettes, and 
 had them heavily drugged with hashish. The box 
 of drugged cigarettes was substituted, later on, 
 for her own." 
 
 "But," exclaimed Mr. Stapleton, "how could 
 Mary Lanahan swear that she turned away but 
 a moment that no one came near her?" 
 
 "When Mary Lanahan testified that, she be 
 lieved that she was telling the truth. The hashish 
 had simply destroyed her conception of the pas 
 sage of time." 
 
 "Is that its effect?" 
 
 "Yes. It produces a delightful languor, a 
 stupor in which all realization of the passage of 
 time ceases. Sometimes, to those who use the 
 drug, it may apparently require hours to walk 
 a few yards. To make a momentary movement 
 of the hand may seem to take many minutes. On, 
 the other hand, in the stupor which the drug 
 induces, hours may be spent in the contemplation 
 of a flower, a bit of scenery, the page of a 
 book, without any realization on the part of the
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 307 
 
 user that more than a few seconds have elapsed. 
 That is what happened to Mary Lanahan. She 
 inhaled a few puffs of the cigarette, heavily 
 charged with the drug; without knowing, of 
 course, of its presence. She probably passed at 
 once into a state of stupor which may have ex 
 tended over fifteen minutes or more. She was not 
 unconscious. She sat upon the grass, looking 
 off toward the distant sky, in a waking dream, 
 not unlike a trance, in which all the world about 
 her the world of sound, of movement ha.d 
 simply ceased to exist. She was to all intents and 
 purposes unconscious of what was going on about 
 her. The kidnapper, whom I strongly suspect 
 to be Francois, merely strolled up behind her, 
 picked up the boy, and walked off with him." 
 
 The detective s listeners looked at him in as 
 tonishment. Presently Mr. Stapleton spoke. 
 "Why do you think it was Francois?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, for many reasons. Had he, on ap 
 proaching, found the nurse not sufficiently under 
 the influence of the drug, he could have pretended 
 to wish to speak to her, on some trivial matter. 
 Again, the child would go away with him of 
 course without making an outcry, which he would 
 probably not have done, with a stranger. There
 
 308 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 are other reasons. He no doubt took the boy 
 to the road, and handed him to his confederates, 
 passing in another car. The affair occurred, you 
 will remember, in a little frequented part of the 
 Bois. 
 
 "The subsequent actions of Mary Lanahan 
 are a trifle difficult to account for; but I suppose 
 them to have been as follows : On slowly coming 
 out of her stupor, and realizing that the boy 
 was gone, she was terribly frightened. It had 
 seemed to her but a moment since she turned 
 away. She fears that the cigarette has made her 
 drowsy she has heard that they sometimes con 
 tain opium. She thinks she may have dozed off ; 
 but is not willing to admit it. Especially does 
 she not want her employers to know that she uses 
 cigarettes. She fears that such knowledge would 
 cost her her place. It is not until later that she 
 begins to suspect the cigarettes." 
 
 "When is that?" inquired Lefevre. 
 
 "Several days later, when she is supposed to 
 have been poisoned. She was with Valentin at 
 the time; although, on account of Mr. Stapleton s 
 dislike for him, she feared to admit it. She 
 smokes another of the cigarettes, while sitting on 
 a bench with him, in the Champs Elysees, Sud-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 309 
 
 denly she is taken ill a frequent result of hash 
 ish, when taken in excessive doses, or by one 
 otherwise nervously upset. Valentin takes the 
 box, puts her into a cab, and goes to his room, 
 where he leaves the cigarettes. No doubt, as she 
 begins to feel ill, she discusses with him the pos 
 sibility of the cigarettes having been poisoned. It 
 is for that reason that she gives them to him. 
 
 "Her sudden message to Valentin to destroy 
 them arose from a fear that I would discover 
 the part which they had played in the boy s loss. 
 This would, she knew, not only cost her her place, 
 but would make her, in a way, responsible for the 
 entire affair. She feared Mr. Stapleton s wrath, 
 and therefore both she and Valentin remained 
 dumb, so far as the cigarettes were concerned. 
 
 "They both, however, were all this time doing 
 their best to find the child. Her message to Val 
 entin, that she was suspicious of Francois, telling 
 Valentin to watch him, arose no doubt from a 
 realization that the box of drugged cigarettes 
 had been substituted for her own by the chauf 
 
 feur. 
 
 "Valentin, acting on her advice, does watch 
 Francois, as his presence clinging to the rear of 
 the latter s car the other night has proved. He
 
 310 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 tells me, today, that Frangois did not take his 
 car to the garage that night at all. The men 
 there who so testified lied, at his request, suppos 
 ing it merely an excuse to cover a joy ride. 
 
 "Francois, not wishing that the drugged cigar 
 ettes should remain in the nurse s hands as evi 
 dence against him, evidently made an attempt to 
 recover them, discovered that she had turned 
 them over to Valentin, and, being watched him 
 self, sent word of the matter to his confederate, 
 the fellow who went about in the black beard. He 
 must have been admitted to Mr. Stapleton s house 
 that night by Francois himself. 
 
 "I came to the conclusion, early in the course 
 of my investigations, that the cigarette, the end 
 of which I had found in the Bois, had been 
 smoked by Mary Lanahan, and I so told Mr. 
 Stapleton." 
 
 The banker nodded. "Yes," he said; "but 
 you did not then say anything about the hashish." 
 
 "I was not certain of it. I intended to have? 
 the fragment I had found analyzed. When I 
 discovered the cigarettes in Francois room, you 
 will remember that I took one of them. I smoked 
 that cigarette, before going to bed that night. 
 It produced exactly the sensations that Mary Lan-
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 311 
 
 ahan must have felt. I floated away in the land 
 of dreams for over half an hour, and came to 
 with no recollection whatever of the passage of 
 time. It is a remarkable drug, but an extremely 
 dangerous one. 
 
 "After that, the case became simple enough. I 
 knew at once, beyond any question, that Francois 
 was one of the kidnappers. My plans last night 
 would have worked perfectly, but for the chauf 
 feur s accidental discovery of me, hiding in the 
 closet. Had that not happened, the boy would 
 have been returned, according to program, and 
 Francois I had safely in my hands." 
 
 "But we wouldn t have got the others," laughed 
 the Prefect. "You must thank your wife for that. 
 Vernet has told me how the kidnappers outwitted 
 you at the Avenue Malakoff. The car from which 
 the signal apparently was made contained a well 
 known stockbroker, who knew nothing of the 
 matter at all. He merely happened to be passing 
 the Avenue Malakoff at the precise moment when 
 the signal w r as given to Frangois." 
 
 "You are mistaken, Monsieur," observed the 
 detective, quietly. "The signal was undoubtedly 
 made from that car; not by Monsieur Lemaitre, 
 I will admit, but by his chauffeur. He has ad-
 
 312 THE BLUE LIGHTS 
 
 mitted to Vernet that a stranger paid him fifty 
 francs to do so, on the plea that it was some signal 
 to a woman. The man knows nothing of the 
 affair, beyond that." 
 
 As he finished speaking, there was a ripple of 
 laughter from the hall, and Mrs. Stapleton, 
 Madame Lefevre, and Grace came in. 
 
 "We have been debating a most important ques 
 tion," said Mrs. Stapleton, with an assumption of 
 extreme gravity, "and we beg that you, Monsieur 
 Lefevre, will be so good as to decide it." 
 
 "What is this question so grave, Madame," in 
 quired the Prefect, rising, with a smile. "I am all 
 impatience to hear it." 
 
 "The question is this, Monsieur Lefevre: 
 Which deserves the greater credit for the re 
 covery of my boy Mr. Duvall, or his charming 
 wife?" 
 
 The Prefect stepped forward, placed one hand 
 affectionately upon Duvall s shoulder, and with 
 the other grasped Grace by the arm. 
 
 "The question you propound, Madame," he 
 said, looking from the detective to his wife with 
 a smile, "is easily answered. The credit belongs 
 equally to both. And that, my children, is as it 
 should be. This affair, so happily terminated,
 
 THE BLUE LIGHTS 313 
 
 has taught me one Important lesson. It is this: 
 The husband and the wife should never be in 
 opposition to each other. They must work 
 together always, not only in matters of this 
 sort, but in all the affairs of life. I attempted a 
 risky experiment in allowing these two dear 
 friends of mine to attack this case from opposite 
 sides. But for some very excellent strokes of 
 luck, it might have resulted most unhappily for all 
 concerned. Hereafter, should Monsieur Duvall 
 and his wife serve me, it must be together, or not 
 at all." He turned to Grace. "I feel that I 
 owe you both a great debt, my child, for having 
 once again so rudely interrupted the course of 
 your honeymoon. What reparation can I make? 
 Ask of me what you will." 
 
 "Anything?" inquired Grace, laughing. 
 
 "Anything." The Prefect bowed gallantly. 
 
 "Then I demand your promise, Monsieur, to 
 visit us at our place in Maryland, before the end 
 of the year." 
 
 "That," exclaimed the Prefect, as he bent and 
 kissed her hand, "would be the most delightful 
 way of paying a debt that I could possibly 
 imagine."
 
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 This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran 
 for two years in New York and Chicago. 
 
 The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman s revenge 
 directed against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison 
 for three years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. 
 illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 
 This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is 
 suddenly thrown into the very heart of New York, "tha land of her 
 dreams, where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. 
 
 The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in 
 theatres all over the world. 
 
 THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. 
 Illustrated by John K.ae, 
 
 This is a norelization of the popular play in which David War, 
 field, as Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. 
 
 The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, 
 powerful, both as a book and as a play. 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens.; 
 
 This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit 
 barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness, 
 
 It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play 
 has been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. 
 BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace. 
 
 The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Ro 
 mance on a height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time 
 has reached. The clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, 
 the perfect reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce 
 atmosphere of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tre 
 mendous dramatic success. 
 
 BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur 
 Hornblow. Illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 
 A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created 
 an interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid 
 in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. 
 
 Tha interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments 
 which show the young wife the price she has paid. 
 
 Ask for compete free list of G. & D. Popular Co^yrigTied Fiction 
 
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