FOOTNOTES:[1]See "The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet."
[1]See "The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet."
[1]See "The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet."
M. Delcassé and M. Lépine were still in conference when Pigot was announced. He was admitted without delay, and made his report briefly and clearly. It could have been summed up in a sentence: neither by him nor by his agents had anything been discovered to indicate, even remotely, that the catastrophe had been the result of intention; every rumour to that effect had been sifted and disproved;La Libertéhad been destroyed from within and not from without.
"Another 'accident,' then," grunted Delcassé gloomily. "But I do not believe it! Something—something here"—and he smote his forehead—"tells me that it was not an accident!"
Pigot, as a practical detective, had no faith in intuition; but whatever his thoughts may have been, he managed to mask them behind an impenetrable countenance.
"Our investigations have but just begun," Lépine pointed out. "They will be continued without pause. I will conduct them in person. No circumstance, however trivial, will be overlooked."
"I know you are a good man, Lépine," said the Minister wearily; "I know there is none more clever. But something more than cleverness is needed here—we need genius, inspiration." He stopped abruptly and rose from his chair. "I am sure you will do your best. Remember, if there is any discovery, I am to be told at once."
Pigot, who had been standing with lips compressed, undergoing a violent inward struggle, at last managed to open them.
"I have a man outside," he said, as though repeating a lesson, "who requests an audience with M. Delcassé. He asserts thatLa Libertéwas blown up by the Germans, and that he can prove it."
Delcassé whirled as on a pivot and stared at the speaker.
"But, name of God!" he stammered, barely able to speak for excitement, "why have you not introduced this man at once? Why have you wasted our time...."
He stopped and took a rapid turn up and down the room. When he spoke again, his voice was quite composed.
"Introduce the man at once," he commanded.
"I think it would be well," said Pigot tonelessly, "that M. Delcassé should first be informed as to the name and character of this man."
Again Delcassé stared.
"Explain yourself!" he cried. "Who is the man?"
"His name is Crochard, sir," Pigot replied.
Delcassé evidently did not recognise the name, but Lépine's face was suddenly illumined.
"Crochard," he explained, "is the most adroit, the most daring, the most accomplished scoundrel with whom I have ever had to deal. Surely Monsieur remembers the affair of the Michaelovitch diamonds?"
"Ah, yes!" cried Delcassé, his face, too, lighting. "So that was Crochard!"
"Crochard the Invincible, he calls himself," growled Pigot. "He is a great braggart."
"And with some reason," added Lépine. "We have never yet been able to convict him."
"He restored the Mazarin diamond to the Louvre, did he not?" queried the Minister. "And also the Mona Lisa?"
"The Mazarin certainly," assented Lépine. "As for the Mona Lisa, I have never been quite certain. There is a rumour that the original is now owned by an American millionaire, and that the picture returned to the Louvre is only a copy—a wonderful one, it is true. Where did you meet him, Pigot?"
Pigot related the story of the meeting, while Delcassé listened thoughtfully.
"Is he to be trusted?" he asked, when Pigot had finished.
"In this affair I believe so," answered Lépine quietly. "He may be as good a patriot as you or I. If he is really in earnest, he can be of immense assistance. He has absolute command of the underworld, and a thousand sources of information which are closed to the police. At least, it can do no harm to hear what he has to say."
Delcassé agreed with a nod, and sat down again.
"Bring him in," he said, and a moment later Crochard entered.
If M. Delcassé had expected to perceive anything of the criminal in the man who bowed to him respectfully from the threshold, he was most thoroughly disappointed. What hedidsee was a well-built man in the very prime of life, with clear and fearless eyes of greenish-grey flecked with yellow, a face singularly open and engaging, and a manner as easy and self-possessed as Delcassé's own. The only sign of approaching age was the sprinkle of grey in the crisp, brown hair, but this served rather to accentuate the youthfulness of the face, covered now by a coat of tan which bespoke a summer spent in the open. In any company, this man would have been notable.
"M. Crochard, I believe," said Delcassé, and involuntarily the great Minister arose and returned his visitor's bow. "Be seated, sir."
"Thank you," said Crochard, and sat down. "I see that we are going to appreciate each other," he added, and looked at Delcassé with a friendly smile.
That gentleman's eyes were twinkling behind his glasses, and his lips twitched under his heavy moustache.
"It always pleases me to meet a distinguished man," he said, "in whatever field of endeavour. M. Lépine tells me that you are most distinguished."
"M. Lépine has every reason to know," agreed Crochard, and glanced smilingly toward the Prefect.
"Though, since I have eyes, I can see that for myself," added the Minister. "Why did you wish to see me?"
"I wished to see you, sir," answered Crochard, suddenly serious, "because I have long recognised in you the only man whom France possesses who sees clearly the struggle which is ahead of her, who prepares ceaselessly for that struggle, and who is strong enough to guide her through it triumphantly."
"To what struggle do you refer?" inquired the Minister, but his shining eyes belied his careless tone.
"The struggle to regain possession of Alsace-Lorraine and to avenge ourselves upon the nation which once humiliated us."
A slow flush crept into Delcassé's cheeks, and his lips tightened.
"You foresee such a struggle?" he asked.
"As clearly as you do yourself, sir."
"Well, yes!" cried Delcassé, and smote the arm of his chair a heavy blow. "Idoforesee such a struggle—I have never denied it; and for twenty years I have laboured to prepare for it. You can understand, then, what a blow it is to me—how terrible, how disheartening—to have all my calculations blasted by such accidents as that of to-day!"
"Pardon me, sir," said Crochard, in a low tone, "but the destruction ofLa Libertéwas not an accident!"
"You assert that?"
"I do. And furthermore I assert that it was the work of Germany!"
Delcassé sprang from his chair, his face livid.
"The proof!" he cried. "The proof!"
"The proof, sir, is this: at five minutes before dawn, this morning, two strangers, attired as pedestrians, with knapsacks on their backs, stopped in the recess of the doorway of Number Ten, Quai de Cronstadt. They stepped well within the shadow, as though not wishing to be seen, and stood gazing out on the harbour. Directly before them, at a distance of not more than three hundred yards,La Libertéwas moored. It was at her they stared, with eyes expectant and uneasy. At dawn,La Libertéblew up, and one of these men cried out some words of German."
"What were they?"
"Unfortunately the person who overheard them does not know German. He understood only the first two words, 'Ach Gott!'"
"And the men?" cried Delcassé. "What became of them?"
"They strode rapidly away along the quay, and were lost to sight."
Delcassé dropped into his chair, his face dark with passion.
"What do you infer from this circumstance?" he demanded.
"There is only one possible inference," answered Crochard. "At five minutes before dawn this morning, there were, in this city of Toulon, two Germans who knew thatLa Libertéwas to be destroyed."
A moment's silence followed. Those words, terrible as they were, astounding as they were, carried conviction with them.
"Tell me," said Delcassé, at last, "how you discovered all this."
"I have been spending the month at Nice," Crochard explained. "I learned of the disaster as soon as I was up this morning, and I came at once to Toulon. Monsieur will understand that, in the many years during which I have been at variance with society, I have made many friends and gained a certain power in quarters of which Monsieur knows little.One of these friends is the proprietor of the café which occupies the ground floor of the house on the Quai de Cronstadt. I stopped to see him, because his house is close to the scene of the disaster—so close, indeed, that all of its windows were shattered. It was he who gave me the first clue."
"Go on," said Delcassé, who had been listening intently. "I need not say how deeply all this interests me."
"My friend had arranged to go to Marseilles this morning," Crochard continued, "to make a purchase of wine. The train, he tells me, leaves at six o'clock. It was about fifteen minutes before that hour when, as he started to open his door, two men stepped into the little vestibule, as though to screen themselves from observation. He peered through the curtain, thinking they might be friends, and found that he did not know them. Gazing from the darkness of the interior, he could see them very well. They were staring atLa Liberté, as I have said, their faces rigid with emotion; and then came the explosion, which, without question, they anticipated."
"You have a description of them?" broke in Delcassé.
"An excellent description. They were men of middle age, heavily built and clean-shaven. Their faces were deeply tanned, as with long exposure, and had that fulness about the lips which bespeaks theGerman. They wore caps and walking-suits with knee trousers. Each had strapped upon his back a small knapsack."
Lépine, who had been taking rapid notes, looked up with gleaming eyes.
"We shall find these men," he said. "It will not be difficult."
"More difficult than you suppose, M. Lépine," said Crochard dryly.
Lépine looked at him.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Crochard turned to Delcassé with a little deprecating gesture.
"Before I proceed," he said, "I must be certain of my position here. With you, sir, no explanations are necessary; we understand each other and we have no past to prejudice us. But M. le Prefect and I are old enemies. We respect each other, but we always welcome an opportunity to try conclusions. Until this affair is ended, I propose a truce."
"I will go further than that," retorted Lépine, "and call it an alliance. I shall welcome your help. I have already told M. Delcassé that you are probably as good a patriot as he or I."
"I shall try to prove that you are right," said Crochard, his eyes shining. "There is one more condition. In this affair, it may be necessary for me to call to my assistance certain persons for whom thepolice are looking. Should they be recognised while so engaged, no effort must be made to arrest them."
"I agree," said Lépine, instantly.
Crochard leaned back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction.
"I am ready to proceed," he said. "Let us, for the time, forget our differences."
"I have already forgotten them," said Lépine.
Delcassé had listened to this interchange with smiling lips.
"Magnificent!" he cried. "I shall remember this scene all my life. And now to work!"
"First," said Lépine, "permit me to inquire of Inspector Pigot how it happened that neither he nor his men heard anything of these two strangers?"
Pigot flushed darkly and opened his lips to defend himself, but Crochard silenced him with a little gesture.
"I can explain that," he said. "Pigot is not a genius, it is true, but neither is he quite a fool, and I should grieve to see him blamed for something not his fault. I was careful to warn my friend to repeat his story to no one. That, I think, was the wisest course. Those men must not know that we suspect them."
Delcassé nodded.
"You are right," he agreed. "Are you possessed of any further information?"
"I had only a few hours," Crochard apologised; "but I did what I could. I learned that two men resembling these, and undoubtedly the same, had been staying since Friday at the Hotel du Nord. The proprietor of that house informed me that they left before daybreak this morning to walk to Frejus."
"Ah, then," began Delcassé.
"But they did not go to Frejus," Crochard added. "They stopped at Salins, which they reached about ten o'clock, boarded a small steam-yacht which was waiting there, and at once put out to sea. I fear they are beyond our reach."
Delcassé stamped his foot.
"What, then, is to be done?" he demanded.
"It seems to me most important that we identify these men," said Crochard; "then we shall know where to look for them."
"Yes," agreed Delcassé; "but how are they to be identified?"
"There are, no doubt, in the files of your department, photographs of the most prominent German officers, both of army and navy. I believe these men to be officers—one, at least—the other may belong to the secret service. I would suggest that these photographs be brought to Toulon, and that it also be ascertained which officers are on leave of absence, or not with their commands. Probably it will be necessary to search only among the generalofficers. An affair so important would not be entrusted to a subordinate."
Delcassé made a quick note.
"The photographs will be here to-morrow," he promised.
"I would further suggest that the innkeeper be strictly interrogated," Crochard went on. "I ventured to ask him only a careless question or two; he does not know me, and I did not wish to arouse his suspicions."
Lépine arose.
"I will see him at once," he said.
Crochard rose also.
"And I will accompany you. That is all the information I have at present, sir," he added to Delcassé.
"It is a great deal," said the Minister quickly. "Just before you came, I was remarking to Lépine that what we needed in this affair was a man of genius. Well, I think that we have found him!"
Crochard flushed with pleasure.
"I thank you, sir," he said.
"And I thank you for coming to me," said Delcassé. "You are doing France a great service. I shall not forget it. Until morning, then."
Crochard bowed and left the room with the two detectives.
Delcassé sat for a moment deep in thought; thenhe summoned his secretary, gave the necessary order about the photographs and dictated a cipher telegram to the chief of his secret service at Berlin. That done, he bade his secretary good night, dismissed him and went to bed.
But not to sleep. Turning at full length upon his back, his arms above his head, he stared steadily up into the darkness until his brain, freed of all lesser problems, all vagrant thoughts, was concentrated upon the great problem which now confronted it:
How had the destruction ofLa Libertébeen accomplished?
It was, of course, the work of Germany. Those two strangers, who spoke German in a moment of great excitement, who had arrived five minutes before the disaster, who had hastened away immediately afterwards, who had lied about their destination, and for whom a steam-yacht had been waiting—all this, as Crochard said, could have but one meaning.
And then Delcassé fairly bounded in the bed. Fool that he had been not to think of it! There was another proof! The telegram from the Emperor!
He lay a moment trembling, then calmed himself by a mighty effort. How was it the Emperor had learned so promptly of the disaster? There was only one possible answer: an emissary had hastened to flash the news to him—an emissary dressed,prepared, who needed to delay for no investigation, since the roar of the explosion told him everything—one of the men, perhaps, who had waited on the quay. And Delcassé, biting his nails, his face wet with perspiration, pictured to himself the Emperor also waiting, pacing restlessly back and forth, until the word should come! He gnashed his teeth with rage, this good Frenchman, and shook trembling fists up into the darkness. Ah, Germany should pay! Germany should pay!
But again he calmed himself, wiped his forehead, and composed himself for thought.
How hadLa Libertébeen destroyed? There was the question which must be answered, and at once.
By a mine, set to explode at a certain hour? Delcassé shook his head. It was absurd to suppose that a mine could be planted in a harbour as strictly guarded and policed as that of Toulon. By a torpedo, then, which could be launched some distance away? But that was even more absurd. The launching of a torpedo required a complex mechanism; as well suppose that an enemy would be able to install a cannon on the docks unobserved. By a submarine? ButLa Libertéhad lain at anchor in an enclosed basin; besides there were the outer basins, patrol boats, sentries, the constant coming and going of sailors and marines, of launches, of boats of allkinds. How could an enemy creep unobserved past all these?
True, the accident had occurred at dawn, when every one but the sentries was asleep. But even at that hour the harbour was strictly guarded. An enemy, to enter unseen, would have to be impalpable, invisible....
Besides, how could a mine or a torpedo or a submarine have caused the explosion of the magazines, one after the other, at regular intervals—"spaced," one of the officers had said, "like the reports of a heavy gun." First one had been fired, and then a second, and then a third; Delcassé, closing his eyes, had a vision of a ghostly figure stealing from one to another, torch in hand....
His mind roved back again over his talk with Lépine. Could it have been done by wireless? Not the ordinary wireless, but some subtle variant of ether waves, some new form of radio-activity, which in some way caused combustion? There was an enemy which could flit unseen from magazine to magazine, which no locks nor bars could guard against....
His heart faltered at the thought. The possessor of such a secret would have the world at his mercy. No ship would be safe, no fort, no artillery-caisson. Armies and navies alike would melt before him, destroyed by the explosion of their own ammunition. Ah, if France possessed that secret....
He shook his head impatiently and turned on his side.
"I am dreaming foolish dreams," he told himself. "It is time to sleep."
It was nearly four o'clock when Crochard, Lépine and Pigot took their leave of M. Delcassé and made their way through the dark and silent streets in the direction of the Hotel du Nord. The people who had leaped from their beds at sunrise, wearied at last by the emotions of the day and dampened by the fine rain which had begun to fall, had gone to bed again. Only about the harbour were there any signs of life. There the searchlights of the battleships still played about the wreck, where squads of marines were searching for the bodies of their comrades.
The three men, their coats buttoned about them, their hats pulled down, hurried on in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. Crochard and Lépine were planning the campaign; Pigot had not yet recovered from his confusion at the sight of these two working hand in hand.
Five minutes brought them to the door of the Hotel du Nord, and Lépine applied to it a vigorous fist. There was no response, and he pounded again. At last there came the sound of a window being raised, and a night-capped head was thrust out from the upper story.
"Who is there?" asked a voice.
"Are you the proprietor?" demanded Lépine.
"Yes, sir."
"Then come down at once."
"But what is wrong, sir?" stammered Brisson, to whose frightened eyes those three dark figures huddled in his doorway appeared most sinister. "What is it you require?"
"No matter," said Lépine, sternly. "Come down at once and open the door."
The window was lowered and some minutes passed. Had the three men at the door been able to see inside the house, they would have been amused at what occurred there, could anything have amused them at that moment. As it was, they merely stamped with impatience and crowded closer to the door, for the rain was falling more heavily.
Brisson retreated from the window, his fat countenance fallen into creases of dismay, and plunged back into his bedroom, where his wife, who had also been awakened by the knocking, was sitting up in bed.
"What is it, Brisson?" she asked.
"There are three men below," gasped Aristide, fumbling for his trousers. "They command that I descend at once and admit them. There is something which tells me it is the police—the police at this hour!"
"The police?" and Madame Gabrielle cast a rapid mental glance over their affairs. "Well, admit them; we have no reason to fear the police."
"There is that little matter of the wine from your nephew which did not pay the octroi," Brisson reminded her.
"Bah!" retorted Madame, who was by far the stronger spirit; "it cannot be that! No one could suspect that; besides, even if they did, they would not come hammering here in the middle of the night. Descend at once and admit them. Assume a bold front, Brisson! Do not let them suspect that you have fear! Go at once! Hasten! I will come as soon as I have found a petticoat."
Thus encouraged, Brisson descended and opened the door, holding a lighted candle above his head and presenting as bold a front as his not-too-courageous spirit could muster. The three men crowded past him, without waiting for an invitation or saying a word, and one of them took the door from his hand and closed and bolted it. The horrible thought flashed through Brisson's head that they were robbers, bandits, and he had opened his mouth to cry for help, when one of them, the little, lean, grey-bearded one, with the fierce eyes, spoke.
"We belong to the police," he said. "We desire a few moments' conversation with you."
"Certainly, sir," stammered Brisson, thinking, ashe met those eyes, that perhaps he would have preferred the bandits. "Come this way, if you please, sirs," and he led the way into his bureau.
He placed the candle on the table and dropped into a chair. His visitors remained standing, facing him. Brisson realised that for him to sit while they stood was anything but courteous, and he struggled to arise, but the strength seemed departed from his legs, and he sank helplessly back again.
"What is your name?" asked the little man, looking at him with those gimlet eyes.
"Aristide Brisson, sir."
"You have been long in this house?"
"For twenty years, sir. My record is of the best."
"We will investigate it," said Lépine curtly.
"Do so!" cried a voice behind them. "Nothing would please us better!" They turned to find Madame Brisson on the threshold, her eyes flashing, her bosom heaving, one plump hand holding together at the throat the garment which threatened every moment to disclose her still plumper shoulders. "We are honest people—our neighbours will speak a good word for us—all of them!"
"I do not doubt it, Madame," said Lépine, courteously, realising that here he had to do with the head of the house. "Meanwhile we wish to make certain inquiries of you, which you need not hesitate toanswer. But I wish first to warn you that of these inquiries you must not breathe so much as a word to any one. Do you understand?"
"We understand, sir; you may rely upon us," said Madame Brisson, and sat down beside her husband.
"Our inquiry," pursued Lépine, "concerns the two gentlemen who departed so early yesterday morning."
At the words, Brisson bounded in his chair, and the colour swept back into his cheeks. He was himself again.
"So!" he cried, and suddenly found that he could stand erect, and did so. "So! It is about those swine! I knew that all was not right; I knew that they were not as they pretended!"
"What was it they pretended?"
"That they were of America. But it did not deceive me—no, not for one instant. They had not the air of Americans. Besides, do Americans go tramping about the country with knapsacks on their backs? No; only Germans do that! To Gabrielle, as they departed, I said, 'Americans, no; Germans perhaps, or Austrians—but not Americans!'"
"Yes, gentlemen, those were his very words!" said Madame Brisson, with an emphatic nod.
"And there is a final proof," went on Brisson, excitedly; "a proof conclusive. When I present mybill, the one who takes it grows quite red with anger. It was a most reasonable bill—ninety-six francs for three days, with many extras—a most reasonable bill, for Americans. It was then that I knew there was something wrong—that they were imposters who feared the police. It was only that which prevented a scene. 'Gabrielle,' I said, as they went away down the street, 'those men have something to conceal.'"
"Yes, gentlemen," put in Gabrielle, "he said just that."
"There is even worse to come, sirs," and Brisson dropped his voice as one does in speaking of great horrors. "You will scarcely credit it, but, after having had us at their heels for three days, upstairs, downstairs; after compelling us to arise in the dark of night to prepare their breakfasts—this person handed me a note for a hundred francs and said with a lordly air, 'You may keep the change.' The change—four francs! And yet from his manner you would have thought he was giving me a fortune!"
"Have you still that hundred-franc note?" Lépine inquired.
"But certainly, sir," answered Madame Gabrielle, and, turning her back to the company, she stooped quickly and arose with the bill in her hand.
Lépine took it and examined it carefully by thelight of the candle. It was a new note, apparently fresh from the bank, and the Prefect's eyes were shining with satisfaction when he raised his head.
"I shall have to retain this," he said. "One moment," he added, as Madame Brisson opened her lips to protest; "I shall, of course, give you another for it," and he drew out his purse, placed the new note carefully in a flapped compartment, selected another and handed it to the anxious lady, who received it with a sigh of relief. "And now!" went on Lépine, "please tell us all that you can remember about these men—every small detail."
Both Monsieur and Madame Brisson grew voluble at once, for rarely had it been their fortune to address so attentive an audience. But there were few grains of wheat among the chaff. The two strangers had arrived, it appeared, on the evening of the twenty-second, Friday. They were Americans, they said, on a walking tour. Their names? Brisson did not remember; but they would be found on the police registration slip which he had caused them to fill out at once and had sent to the Prefecture that very evening. He had noticed on the slip that they had come from Marseilles and were on their way to Nice. Their bags had already arrived from Marseilles, and, at their direction, he had had them brought up from the station.
"Where are the bags now?" asked Lépine.
"They directed that they be sent to Nice," explained Brisson. "I despatched them yesterday morning, as I agreed."
"You have the receipt?"
"But certainly, sir," and Brisson, while his wife held the light, rummaged in his desk and finally produced the paper in question.
Lépine placed it in his purse beside the hundred-franc note.
"Proceed," he said. "In what way did these strangers occupy themselves during their stay?"
They were absent from morning till night, it appeared, walking about the streets, about the docks, visiting the ships in the harbour, climbing the hills back of the town, and even going as far as Cape Cepet, where the great fort is—penetrating, in a word, to every nook and corner which it is possible for visitors to enter. In fact, in the two days of their stay, they had seen more of Toulon than had Brisson in the twenty years of his residence.
The details of these expeditions Brisson had learned with the greatest difficulty, for his guests had talked but little, had kept to themselves, had discouraged his advances, resented his questions, and often pretended that they did not understand—all of which was in itself suspicious. When talking together, they used a language which Brisson supposed to be English; but he was not familiar with English;knew only a few words of it, indeed—"money," "damn,"—such words as every one knows. Their French, also, was very bad,—much worse at some times than at others....
Lépine finally stopped this flow of language, when it became apparent that nothing but chaff remained.
"Do any further questions suggest themselves?" he asked, looking first at Crochard and then at Pigot. "No? You understand, my friends," he added, turning back to the innkeeper and his wife, "that of all this you will say nothing—not even to each other. An incautious word, and you may find yourselves in a most difficult position. On the other hand, if you are careful, if you are reticent, you will not be forgotten."
"We understand, sir," said they both in a breath, and Brisson added, with venom in his voice, "They were swine! I rejoice that they did not get their telegram!"
Lépine jumped as though a pin had been driven into him.
"Their telegram? What do you mean?" he cried.
"About an hour after they were gone," Brisson hastened to explain, "or perhaps two hours—I do not know—a messenger appeared with a telegram addressed to a grotesque name—Zhones, Smeet—Ido not remember—in care of the Hotel du Nord. I concluded it was for one of them, and told the messenger it was too late, that the man had departed—to Frejus, to Nice—I did not know whither. So he took the telegram back again."
Lépine's eyes were gleaming as he glanced at Crochard.
"I am glad that you have mentioned this detail, M. Brisson," he said. "I thank you—and you also, Madame!" and with that, he and his companions bade the worthy couple adieu.
Once in the street, Crochard paused.
"I will leave you now, M. Lépine," he said. "You have your work to do—but you do not need me. Should I have anything further to communicate, you will hear from me."
"And if we wish to find you?"
"For the present, I am staying with my friend on the Quai de Cronstadt."
"Very good," said Lépine. "Good night," and in a moment he and Pigot were lost in the darkness.
The rain had ceased and a chill wind had arisen, but Crochard did not seem to feel it, as he walked slowly toward the quays, his head bent in thought. An ironical smile curved his lips, as he pictured Lépine off upon the scent first to the Prefecture, then to the post-office. He would follow it well, of course; hewould run it to the end. He would discover, no doubt, the identity of the two travellers; that would not be difficult. Crochard himself had pointed out the way.
But what then? Even if they were found to be men high in the German service, that was of small importance. Itprovednothing. They were at liberty to visit Toulon, if they wished to do so; and, after all, their arrival at the quay five minutes before dawn might have been an accident; theymighthave lingered for a last look atLa Libertéwithout any suspicion of what was about to occur. Such a coincidence, if not probable, was, at least, conceivable; and such, of course, would be their explanation, if an explanation was ever asked for. There was no way to disprove it.
As to the yacht on which they had embarked—well, that, too, may have been an accident—a boat belonging to a friend whom they had come upon unexpectedly and upon which they had been persuaded to take a cruise. Suspicious circumstances—yes, many of them; but no proof, no absolute proof. And nothing, absolutely nothing, to show that the explosion had been caused by any outside agency.
Arrived at the water-front, Crochard walked on until he was opposite the wreck. There he sat down, with his legs overhanging the quay. Two or three searchlights were still focussed on the ruin, but therescue parties had been withdrawn, and only a few sentries remained. He could see how that formidable monster of a ship had been torn and twisted into an inextricable and hideous mass of iron and steel. One turret remained above the water, blown over on its side, its great guns pointing straight at the zenith; but the rest was a mere tangle of metal.
Such destruction could have been wrought only by the explosion of the magazines; no mine or torpedo could have done it. And as he gazed at the mass of wreckage visible above the water, he perceived a certain resemblance to photographs he had seen of the wreck of theMaine. TheMaine'sforward magazine had exploded; but Crochard knew, as well as M. Delcassé himself, what had caused that explosion.
Perhaps history was repeating itself, as, proverbially, it is supposed to have a way of doing. But Crochard shook his head. If the catastrophe was not an accident, then it was the result of some agency far more subtle than mine or torpedo. And, also, if it was not an accident, those two men who had waited in the shadow of the doorway back of him for the deed to be accomplished, must have had an accomplice. They could not destroy the ship merely by staring at her! Somewhere, somewhere, concealed but not far distant, that accomplice must have awaited the first beam of the rising sun as thesignal to hurl his thunderbolt, to loose his mysterious power!
What was that power? How had the thing been done? Those, Crochard felt, were the questions to be answered. As to who had done it, or why it had been done—that could wait. But if there existed in the world a force which, directed from a distance, noiseless, invisible, impalpable, could destroy a battleship asleep at her anchorage, then indeed did it behoove France to discover and guard against it!
At last, his head still bent, Crochard arose, crossed the quay, opened the door of Number Ten, and entered.
No doubt it would have interested both him and M. Delcassé to know how nearly parallel the channels of their thoughts had run!
M. Delcassé was scarcely out of bed, next morning, when Lépine's card was brought in to him. He smiled as he read the line scrawled across it: "My report awaits Monsieur."
"Show M. Lépine into the breakfast-room," said the Minister, "and inform him that I shall be down at once. Also inquire if he has breakfasted. If not, see that he is served."
He hastened on with his toilet, and, five minutes later, joined Lépine, whom he found at his favourite amusement of standing at a window and gazing into the street—an amusement which occupied every idle moment, sometimes with the most astonishing results. Chance plays a larger part in life than most people are willing to admit; Lépine believed in it; went half-way to meet it—and, more than once, had seen drifting past him along the pavement the face for which his best men had been searching vainly.
Lépine, it appeared, had already breakfasted, and, while the Minister ate, told of the interrogation at the Hotel du Nord. He had sent one of his men toNice, with the receipts for the bags, and if, as seemed probable, they were still uncalled for, they would be examined at once.
"Though, even if they are still there," Lépine added, "we shall probably discover nothing of moment. One does not place anything of value in a bag and then abandon it. But I have another clue of the first importance," and he produced the hundred-franc note. "Here is the note given to Brisson by one of the strangers. You perceive that it is quite new. I suggest that you send the number of this note to the Bank of France, ascertain when and to whom it was issued, and if any other notes of the series were issued at the same time."
"I will do so," said M. Delcassé, and made a note of the number. "I agree with you that this is most important."
"One thing more," went on Lépine, replacing the note in his pocket-book and extracting a slip of paper; "a small thing, but of significance. I have here the police blanks which the two men filled out upon arriving at the Hotel du Nord. Their names, you see, are given as George Arnold and William Smith, their home as New York City, United States of America. If you will notice the 'S' of the word 'Smith,' you will see that it is made in the German manner."
"That is true; but it may mean nothing. Thereare many Germans who are citizens of the United States."
"Yes; but the German name is Schmidt, not Smith. I conclude that this man is a German, but was trying to conceal it."
"You may be right," Delcassé assented, with a trace of impatience in his manner; "no doubt youareright. Is there anything more?"
"There is one thing," said Lépine, colouring a little, "which I have kept until the last, because it seems to upset M. Crochard's theory."
"What is that?"
Lépine drew two sheets of yellow tissue-paper from his pocket-book.
"An hour after our men left the Hotel du Nord," he said, "a telegram arrived, addressed to this William Smith. Here it is," and he spread out one of the sheets on the desk before the Minister.
Delcassé bent forward eagerly and read: