Chapter 8

THE SECOND INSTALLATION

The Board of Inquiry began its sessions that afternoon, at the Prefecture of Marine. It was composed of the most distinguished officers of France, who had donned for the occasion their most brilliant uniforms. There was much paraphernalia--secretaries, portfolios, red-taped papers, reports--all that display so dear to the French temperament; and every one wore an air of importance and solemnity befitting time and place.

M. Delcassé opened the session with a ringing speech, forming a notable contrast to the platitudes uttered by the President in the morning. In fact, it was so bold in its allusions to an approaching struggle with "the implacable enemy of the Republic," that the members of the Board glanced covertly at each other in astonishment. Their astonishment was the greater because, as they well knew, M. Delcassé was not given to indiscretions. At least, his indiscretions were always nicely-calculated ones. He knew when to speak and when to hold his tongue--none better; and the fact that he thought it necessary to speak now proved that the affair was serious indeed. At the end of the speech, the Board proceeded in a body to an inspection of the wreck.

Lépine, meanwhile, armed with the description Crochard had given him, set his men to work to discover the dwelling-place of the white-haired stranger who had been seen passing back and forth along the road outside the city gate. But, to his chagrin, evening came and his men had discovered nothing. It is true that the investigation was rendered more than usually difficult by the fact that the town was still in an uproar, and no one wished to speak of anything but the disaster. For the moment, the memories of the people went no farther back than dawn of the previous day. In a day or two, when the first excitement had passed, there would be a much better chance of success.

So, at least, reasoned Inspector Pigot, whose watchword was always Patience! But the reasoning did not satisfy Lépine. Patience was not always a virtue. In this affair, it was impossible to wait a day or two. With every hour, no doubt, the man they sought was putting fresh leagues between himself and his pursuers. Crochard, so Lépine told himself miserably, Crochard would not wait a day or two. Perhaps, already....

He put on his hat and sought the Café des Voyageurs. Choosing the seat which he had occupied that morning, he ordered a liqueur and sat for an hour contemplating the crowd. Again he perceived that the proprietor was absent; but this time the head-waiter did not approach, or even meet his glance. He thought, for a moment, of calling him and asking for Crochard; but he finally decided that that would be too great an indiscretion. Besides, as Crochard had pointed out, in this affair it was Lépine who followed. It was for him to receive instructions, not to give them. At last, with a feeling of depression and dependency quite new to him, the great detective left the café, returned to his hotel and went to bed.

But early next morning, things began to move again. He had scarcely finished his breakfast, when a summons came from M. Delcassé to attend him at once, and when Lépine entered his office, he saw that something of importance had occurred. Delcassé already had a visitor--a tall, thin man, dressed severely in black, with the word "banker" written all over him. Lépine was therefore not surprised when the visitor was introduced to him as the manager of the Toulon branch of the Bank of France.

"We have something of interest here," said Delcassé, and tossed over to Lépine two notes for a hundred francs each.

The latter's eyes were shining as he picked them up, glanced at their numbers, and then compared them with a third note which he took from his pocket-book.

"They are of the same series," he said. "Where did you get them, sir?" and he turned to the bank manager.

"They were deposited with us by the cashier of the central railway station."

"When?"

"On the afternoon of Monday, the twenty-fifth."

"How did you discover them?"

"We received instructions yesterday from Paris to report immediately the receipt of any notes of this series. Our cashier, while checking up our deposits yesterday evening, happened upon these notes, and identified them as a part of the railway deposit of the day before. The matter was reported to me, and I at once forwarded the report to Paris. This morning I received a telegram instructing me to report in person to M. Delcassé, and I hastened to do so."

"You have done well, sir," said the Minister, "and I thank you. We will ask you to exchange these notes for two others, and furthermore to say nothing to any one of this discovery or of having seen me."

The exchange was made, the banker departed, and Lépine, with the notes in his pocket-book, hastened away to the Gare Centrale. Arrived there, he asked for the chief, introduced himself, and stated his business.

"I have here two notes," he said, "which were deposited by your cashier last Monday afternoon. It is most important that I find out from whom this money was received, and to what point tickets were purchased. The purchase was made, no doubt, some time during Monday."

"The money might have been received Sunday," the chef-du-gare pointed out. "Since the bank is closed Sunday, we can make no deposit on that day."

"I have reason to believe it was not received until Monday," said Lépine. "May I interrogate the cashiers, beginning with the one who was on duty at daybreak Monday?"

"There are two men on duty at all hours," explained the chief; "and each trick is eight hours in length. The first begins at six o'clock in the morning. At what hour was daybreak on Monday?"

"At five o'clock and forty-nine minutes."

"The clerks who were in the bureau at that hour are not here now, but I can have them called."

"Let us interrogate the ones who are here," suggested Lépine. "Perhaps it will not be necessary to disturb the others."

The chief pressed a button and summoned the ticket-sellers, one after the other. The first had no recollection of having received the notes, but with his companion Lépine was more successful.

"Yes, yes, I remember them perfectly," he said, when they were shown to him. "My attention was called to them because they were both quite new. I looked at them closely to make certain that they were genuine, and noticed that they were numbered consecutively. Another detail which caused them to remain in my memory was the striking appearance of the person who gave them to me."

Lépine's heart was throbbing with triumph.

"Describe this man," he said.

"Ah, sir," said the clerk, "that is just it. It was not a man, but a girl--a girl of eighteen or twenty. That is what drew my attention. It is not usual to have a girl like that ask for two tickets, second-class, to Paris."

"A girl!" stammered Lépine. "You are sure?"

"Perfectly sure, sir."

"Well, describe her, then."

The clerk half-closed his eyes in order the better to visualize his memory.

"She was, as I have said, of about nineteen, and she was not a Frenchwoman."

"How do you know that?"

"Because, in the first place, she spoke French not very well; and, in the second place, there was in her manner an assurance, a freedom from embarrassment, which a French girl of her station would not possess."

"Was she light or dark?"

"She was dark, sir, with bright black eyes, with which she looked at one very steadily. She was slightly built, of medium height, simply dressed, so far as I could see through the little window, not fashionably, but with good effect. However, what impressed me most was her calm assurance--almost American; but she was too dark to be of America."

Reading between the lines, Lépine suspected that the clerk had attempted to start a flirtation with the self-possessed unknown, and had been rebuffed. And yet, what he said was true--young girls in France were not, ordinarily, entrusted with the buying of railway tickets, especially for so considerable a journey.

"You are sure the tickets were to Paris?"

"Yes, sir; second-class. I remember distinctly giving her sixty-four francs in change."

"At what hour was this?"

"About eight o'clock, sir."

"Of Monday morning?"

"Yes, sir; of Monday morning."

"At what hour was the next train for Paris?"

"At eight-fifteen, sir, the express departs."

"The girl had no companion?"

"I saw none, sir."

"She certainly had a companion, or she would not have bought two tickets."

"Perhaps the inspector at the gate can tell us something," the chief suggested, and the clerk was dismissed and the inspector summoned. But he could give them no information. There had been many passengers for the express, and, besides, every one, himself included, was so distressed and overwrought by the catastrophe of the morning that there had not been the usual attention to detail. The inquiry was extended to the baggage-porters, but with no better success. They, too, had been upset by the disaster and had thought of nothing else. Some of them had frankly deserted their posts in order to hasten to the harbour-front. None of those who remained had noticed a white-haired man and a dark-haired girl.

"Come!" said Lépine savagely to himself, as he left the station. "This is not getting ahead--we must try the cabs. But first...."

He turned toward the Prefecture and quickened his step, for suddenly he scented a new danger. This white-haired man, then, was in the pay of Germany. He had destroyed _La Liberté_ for a price--an immense price, no doubt! And now he had gone to Paris. From there, where would he go? To Brest, perhaps, to work similar mischief there. Lépine shivered a little. The best men he had left at Paris must be sent to Brest with instructions to arrest the fugitives at sight. Two people, so unusual in appearance, would find it difficult to avoid the police in so small a town. But in Paris--that was different. Yet even there something might be done. And then there was always chance, divine chance, which might, at any moment, deliver them into his hands. Ah, if only he were strolling along the Boulevards, looking into this face and that!

"Decidedly, I must be getting back!" Lépine murmured; and, having arrived at the Prefecture, he sent a long telegram to his assistant at Paris and another to the Prefect at Brest. Then he summoned Pigot. "You will interrogate the cabmen at the Gare Centrale," he said, "as to which of them drove a white-haired man and a dark-haired girl to the station for the Paris express, Monday morning. And, understand well, Pigot, there must be no failure this time!" Then, as the door closed behind Pigot's retiring figure, he slapped himself smartly on the forehead. "I am a fool!" he cried, and hurried from the building and called a cab.

There are many dealers in electrical supplies at Toulon, and it was not until he reached the fourth one that Lépine found a ray of light. No; its proprietor had no recollection of any sales to strangers. A little white-haired man? No. But stay--there _had_ been a white-haired man! No, he had bought nothing. He had had a battery recharged--a heavy battery of an unusual type. Yes, it had been delivered. One moment, and the man slowly turned the pages of his ledger, while Lépine bit his lips with impatience. Here it was--the address--80 Rue du Plasson, fourth floor.

In another moment, Lépine's cab was rattling over the cobbles in the direction of the quays.

"Faster! Faster!" he urged.

And then they were in the Rue du Plasson.

"Behold Number Eighty, sir," said the cabman, and pulled up sharply.

There was already a cab at the curb, and as Lépine jumped out, the door of the house opened and Pigot appeared on the threshold. He stared at his chief in astonishment.

"I was just coming to report to you, sir," he said. "The birds have flown."

"Indeed!" sneered Lépine. "So you have discovered that, have you? But the installation is here, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," answered Pigot, very red. "On the fourth floor."

Lépine bounded up the stairs, and Pigot followed in silence. He felt that he had been used unjustly; after all, he was not a wizard--what did the Chief expect!

At the top of the house, Lépine glanced first into the narrow room which we have already seen; then he returned to the landing and opened the other door. It led into a still narrower room, also extending to the front of the house, and lighted by a single window. Lépine went to the window and looked out. Over the roof of the low market across the way, he could see the harbour, the warships, and the wreck of _La Liberté_. Then he turned to an examination of the room.

A heavy box stood before the window, and on the floor beside it were three large batteries. Some pieces of copper wire were lying about, but there was nothing else. In the top of the box, however, four holes had been bored, as though for the reception of bolts, and one side of the box was badly burned. The sill of the window was also scorched and blistered.

"You have the proprietor of this house?" Lépine inquired.

"He is below," Pigot announced, and went to fetch him.

But from the proprietor, a nervous little man with a dirty beard, Lépine learned little. He lived at the rear of the ground floor, and ten days or perhaps two weeks before, a man had knocked at the door and asked if the upper floor was to rent.

"What sort of man?" Lépine inquired.

"A dark man, with white hair, sir; not a bad-looking man, but not a Frenchman."

"A German, perhaps."

"No, most certainly not a German; an Italian or a Spaniard."

"What was his business?"

"He said he was an inventor and desired the top floor for his experiments. I told him that in that case I should have to charge extra, as experiments were always dangerous. He did not object, and paid a month in advance. He seemed a very harmless person."

"Was he alone?"

"At that time, yes, sir. But when he returned with his baggage, his daughter accompanied him."

"How do you know it was his daughter?"

"He told me so, sir. The resemblance was very evident. Besides, he insisted that I supply material to curtain off a portion of the room for her bed."

Lépine recognised the cogency of this reasoning and nodded.

"Continue," he said.

"She was a dark, slim girl, of about twenty. They gave me no trouble. She scarcely left the house except for the marketing. But her father was away a great deal."

"Did he bring much baggage?"

"Two pieces of hand-baggage, sir, and that box yonder by the window. The box was very heavy--almost as if filled with iron--and we had great difficulty in getting it up the stairs, even with the assistance of the truck-man."

"Did you enter this room while he was here?"

"No, sir; I entered neither of the rooms. My rule is never to interfere in the affairs of my tenants--they do not like it. But on one occasion, as I passed the door, I heard him at work on his invention."

"Heard him, you say?"

"Yes, sir; there was a deep humming noise as of a huge top, or perhaps of a motor. It occurred to me that it was a flying-machine which he was inventing. Then, on Sunday, came a telegram."

"A telegram?"

"Yes, sir; I brought it up myself. He read it and his face grew very grave. He informed me that he would be compelled to depart next day--that his sister was dying. But he assured me that he would return as soon as possible to continue his experiments, and that I was to hold the apartment for him--at least until the month for which he had paid had expired."

"And he did depart?"

"Yes, sir; quite early in the morning. I called a cab and assisted to carry down his baggage. The box, as you see, remains against his return, also his apparatus," and he indicated the batteries.

"Oh, certainly," agreed Lépine, with irony, "there can be no doubt of his intention to return." And then his face grew dark and his eyes flashed. "How does it happen," he demanded sternly, "that you did not cause him to fill out a registration blank for the police?"

The little man twisted his hands nervously.

"In that I admit I was most culpable, sir," he said. "But when I looked in my desk for a blank, I found that I had none. Every day I intended going to the Prefecture to get a new supply, but every day something occurred to prevent me. And then came the day of his departure."

Lépine's face was very stern.

"You have, indeed, been culpable," he said, "and I shall see that you are punished. You have broken one of the laws of your country. You have aided a malefactor!"

The little man's face was livid.

"Oh, do not say so, sir!" he protested. "There must be some mistake! That kind gentleman, absorbed only in his invention--"

"I _do_ say so," broke in Lépine, savagely. "Did he receive any letters?"

"One, sir, on the Saturday before the arrival of the telegram. No doubt it, too, spoke of the illness of his sister."

Lépine put his hand wearily to his head.

"At least you noticed the address on the letter?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, sir. It was 'Monsieur B. Séguin, 80 Rue du Plasson, Toulon.' Séguin, that was the name of my lodger."

"But you said he was not a Frenchman!"

"Perhaps he was a Belgian, sir. I have heard that they are sometimes dark."

Lépine threw up his hands.

"Head of a pig!" he cried, and then controlled himself. "M. Pigot," he said, "you will take this idiot to his rooms and remain in charge of him until you hear from me."

And then, as Pigot and his prisoner started down the stairs, Lépine turned to an investigation of the two rooms. Every nook, every crevice, every inch of the floor, every drawer--all these he examined with a minuteness of which only the French police are capable, but his search disclosed nothing which shed any new light on the mystery. At last, he descended the stairs and left the house.

There was still one hope, the telegram. He hastened to the post-office, inquired for the clerk of telegraphs, apologised for again disturbing him, and asked to see the telegram received for B. Séguin, 80 Rue du Plasson, the Sunday before. At the end of five minutes it was in his hands, and he read it with dismay. It had been sent from Brussels, and this is the English of its contents:

"Our sister is very ill and asks for you. Come if you would see her alive.

"CHARLES SÉGUIN."