Chapter 15

Would he pass out of the exit where the famous Spanish detective was awaiting him? Rivero knew Despujol by photographs, and indeed had been present when he had been convicted on the last occasion a few years before.

Mademoiselle's friend hesitated for some moments, and then accosting a porter asked a question. The man pointed to a train on the opposite platform.

Was it possible that what Mademoiselle had told him had scared him? It seemed so, for with a sudden resolve, instead of walking to the exit he entered the booking-office and bought another ticket.

In an instant I dashed to the exit where the Spaniard was waiting, and in a few breathless words told him of the man's intention.

To my amazement Señor Rivero heard me unmoved.

"I was awaiting you," he said. "The man you have been watching is not Despujol at all. Despujol, whom I recognized, passed out a few moments ago and took a cab to his house in the Rue de Lalande."

"Then you have seen him!" I gasped.

"Yes. It is Rodriquez Despujol, without a doubt, Monsieur Garfield. You have not been mistaken, and we must certainly thank you for putting us upon the track of this dangerous assassin."

"Then, after all, my surmise is correct! And he will go on Monday to meet his paymaster in Nîmes," I said. "The plot against me failed. Probably a second attempt is to be made."

"We shall be careful not to be seen until he travels to Nîmes," laughed Rivero, well satisfied at the progress he had made.

"But I wonder who is the red-faced man whom Mademoiselle has met," I remarked. "She has evidently warned him of some danger."

"If that's so we ought to see him," my friend exclaimed. "Let us go together on to the platform and watch. So long as Mademoiselle does not recognize me, we are safe."

With the reassuring knowledge that the man who was being sought for by the whole police of Europe had gone to his unsuspicious abode in the Rue de Lalande, we returned to the far platform where a train stood waiting to leave. It was the _rapide_ for Paris by way of Bourges. The man was already in a third-class compartment and as he stood with his head out of the window, Mademoiselle was chatting with him. Truly his stay in Montauban had not been long.

The instant Rivero caught sight of the fellow's face, he exclaimed:

"Holy Madonna! Why, it is Mateo Sanz, the motor-bandit. We've been searching everywhere for him! He shot and killed a carabineer near Malaga a month ago!"

Next second he had left me and a few moments later hurried back. He had bought a ticket.

"Sanz does not know me. As soon as we've left the station and are away from Mademoiselle I shall be all right. Remain here. I will wire you, and in any case we shall be together in Nîmes on Monday. But be careful not to be seen by Despujol. He is a wary bird, remember!"

Then, unseen by Mademoiselle, he entered a first-class compartment of the train, just as the signal was given to start.

The train moved off, and I was left alone. Surely much had happened in those few exciting moments!

But why had Mademoiselle Jacquelot warned her friend the motor-bandit? If she had warned him because of Rivero's inquiries concerning Despujol then she could also warn the latter. Again it was curious that she met Sanz, and did not meet Despujol. Further, it was a strange fact that the pair of Spanish criminals had not travelled together--unless there was some reason for it.

Perhaps there was.

I watched Mademoiselle as she passed out of the station to a little restaurant where she had a frugal meal. Then she returned and took a ticket back to her home in Castelsarrasin.

Rivero now had his hands full. Not only had he identified in the respectable commercial traveller, Charles Rabel, the notorious assassin Despujol, but he had also quite accidentally come across Sanz the motor-bandit, who of late had terrorized the south of Spain, and whose daring depredations were upon everyone's lips. Mademoiselle seemed to be a friend of both men!

I returned to my hotel close by, and ate my _déjeuner_ alone. My position was a very unenviable one, for I feared to go over into the town lest I should come face to face with the man who had so cunningly made an attempt upon me as the hireling of Oswald De Gex.

But my thoughts were ever of my beloved, the girl who was the victim of some foul plot into which I, too, had been drawn--a mystery which I was devoting my whole life to solve.

At five o'clock that evening I received a telegram from Harry in Madrid, telling me that all was quiet, and "our friend"--meaning De Gex--never went out.

To this I replied in a cryptic way that our suspicions had been verified, and that the person of whom we were in search we had discovered. We were only now waiting for the appointment to be kept at the Hôtel de Luxembourg at Nîmes.

Next day passed uneventfully. In order to kill time I took train to the quaint little town of Moissac, an ancient little place on the Tarn about twenty-five kilomètres distant, and there spent the hours wandering about the countryside which is so famed for its grapes in autumn. I did not return to Montauban till after seven, and while I sat at dinner the waiter handed me another telegram. It was from Rivero, and having been sent from Lyons, read: "All well. Just returning to Montauban."

Later, I busied myself with time-tables and found that he would be due to arrive about six o'clock on the following morning. Therefore I possessed myself in patience, and I was still in bed when in the morning he entered my room.

"Well?" he exclaimed in French, as he sank wearily into a chair. "I've had a swift and weary journey. Sanz has been alarmed by the girl. Why, I cannot tell. Did she go to see Despujol?"

"No," I replied. "She didn't see him, but went straight home."

"You have not ventured near Despujol, I hope?"

"No. I have hardly ventured into the town."

"Good. Well, we shall make a double arrest," he went on. "When the train arrived at the junction at Montlucon at midnight Sanz, evidently fearing lest he was followed, slipped out of the train and into another on the opposite side of the platform. It is a favourite dodge of elusive persons of his type. So, unseen by him, I also joined the train, and we travelled across to Lyons. There he went to a house in the Rue Chevreuil, close to the river, and when I had him safely there I went to the Bureau of Police and asked that observation should be kept upon him until such time that we in Spain should demand his arrest and extradition. The Lyons police know me very well, so two agents were at once detailed for that duty, and I immediately made my way back here. It seems that Sanz is also wanted in France for a motor-car exploit outside Orleans. Therefore our discovery is indeed a lucky one!"

"Will Sanz be arrested?" I asked.

"Yes. I have already reported by telegram to Señor Andrade in Madrid. He will at once ask them in Paris to order the arrest."

"And Despujol?"

"We have now to await his journey to Nîmes to keep this mysterious appointment with your friend."

"Not my friend," I remarked, "rather with my bitterest enemy!"

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST

AT THE HÔTEL LUXEMBOURG

As a detective Rivero was of outstanding shrewdness. He knew that more could be gained by patience than by sharp activity. Hence he did not go near the Rue de Lalande. Indeed, on the Saturday night we both left Montauban together, and travelled by that slow, cross-country route through the Aveyron, by way of Sévérac, down to the ancient city of Nîmes--that quaint, quiet old place which contains more monuments of antiquity than any other town in France.

Early in the morning we alighted at the station, high upon a viaduct, after a sleepless night, and drove to a small commercial hotel, the Cheval Blanc, in the Place des Arènes, nearly opposite the Luxembourg where the mystery-man of Europe had appointed to meet the infamous Despujol. When I inquired for a telegram one was handed to me. It was from Hambledon, saying that De Gex had left for Nîmes and Suzor was returning to Paris, therefore he would follow the latter.

Having installed ourselves in the hotel, Rivero went to the concierge, and taking him into his confidence over a twenty-franc note, told him that he was very anxious to know whether a gentleman named Rabel had arrived at the Luxembourg. Would he ask the concierge there privately on the telephone?

The man in uniform at once rang up the Luxembourg, and addressing the concierge as his "dear Henri," made the inquiry.

The reply was that Monsieur Rabel was expected at noon.

"Ask if a gentleman is expected who has engaged a private sitting-room," Rivero said.

The reply came back that a gentleman, believed to be English, had arrived in the night and now occupied the best suite. His name was Monsieur Johnson, of London.

I then described De Gex to the concierge, who repeated the description to the other hotel.

"Yes, m'sieur," he said, turning again to me. "Henri believes it is the same gentleman whom you describe."

"Who is he?" asked Rivero, much puzzled.

"Wait--and you will see," I replied, laughing, for we now seemed to be within an ace of success.

Just before midday we watched the arrival of the train from Montauban, and from it there descended the man we expected--the notorious Despujol. Though his features were unmistakable he was made up to look much older, his hair being made grey above the ears.

At his side there walked a man whom I instantly recognized, and sight of him, I must confess, caused me to hold my breath.

It was the sinister-faced Italian, Doctor Moroni.

We drew back, and hastening to a taxi, returned at once to our hotel, from the door of which we could see the entrance to the Luxembourg, where a few moments later we saw both the travellers enter.

What further devil's work was now in progress?

We watched the hotel in patience, until just before three o'clock the trio came forth laughing airily.

"Why, look!" gasped Rivero. "Despujol is with your great English financier, Señor De Gex!"

I smiled triumphantly.

"I told you that I had a surprise in store for you," I exclaimed.

"But if Despujol is with him it must be with some evil intent!"

"That is certain!"

"While Señor De Gex was in Madrid we had orders to afford him police protection," Rivero said. "Possibly he suspected that some attempt might be made upon him. Certainly he has no idea of that man's true identity."

"Yes, he has, for he has come here specially to meet him in secret. But why that Italian should be here I can only surmise. He is a doctor from Florence, named Moroni--a man of very evil repute."

"But why should Señor De Gex meet such people in secret?" asked Rivero, much astonished.

"I suppose there is some strong motive why they should meet--the more so, now that I have proved to you that the notorious Despujol is a hireling of this wealthy man De Gex."

"A hireling!" he gasped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that De Gex hired Despujol to make that attempt upon my life, and I have a suspicion--one not yet entirely verified--that Moroni prepared that deadly orosin by the agency of which it was hoped that I should meet with my death."

"Do you really suggest that De Gex, one of the best-known and most philanthropic men in Europe, actually hired Despujol to go to your room that night?" my companion asked, his eyes following the trio as they walked together and chatted beneath the trees of the Avenue Feuchères.

"I do. And further, De Gex has every motive in closing my lips."

"Ah! Then you hold some secret of his, perhaps?" asked Rivero, a new interest being instantly aroused.

"I do--one that I intend to expose when I obtain sufficient corroborative evidence," I answered with determination. "But is not the fact of the three men meeting here in secret under assumed names sufficient proof to you that some fresh plot is afoot?"

"Certainly it is," Rivero agreed. "But I wish you would reveal to me the whole facts."

"It is unnecessary," was my reply. "You are here only to deal with Despujol. I promised I would bring you to him--and I have done so. Instead of living in obscurity in a high-up frontier village in the Pyrenees, as you in Madrid believed, I have shown you that he lives in Montauban, where he passes as an industrious commercial traveller. If you search that house in the Rue de Lalande you might find a quantity of stolen property."

"As a matter of fact, it has already been searched by the police of Montauban at my request," he replied. "The raid was made last night after Charles Rabel had left. I received a telegram from the Commissary of Police only an hour ago to the effect that six heavy cases of 'travellers' samples' had been opened, and in them was found a great quantity of stolen jewellery, negotiable securities, and other objects of value, including two valuable paintings which were missing from the Prado Museum three years ago."

"Then my information has been of some little use to you--eh?"

"Of enormous use, Señor Garfield! You will no doubt receive an official letter of thanks from the Ministry of the Interior," he replied. "But we must act very warily. Despujol will not risk remaining here for long. Besides, some friend may telegraph to him that the police have been to the Rue de Lalande!"

Once more it was upon the tip of my tongue to explain the manner in which I had become implicated in the evil deeds of Oswald De Gex and his sycophants, when of a sudden he added:

"You must really forgive me, Señor Garfield, but you are an entire mystery to me. You have never been frank with me--never once!"

"I have been as frank as I dared," I replied. "I tell you that I am here to watch and to strive to elucidate a great plot--one which concerns myself and the woman I love. We have both been victims of a vile and desperate conspiracy."

"And whom do you suspect?"

"Oswald De Gex."

"With what motive?" he asked, for he held the enormously wealthy financial friend of Spain in awe and admiration.

"That, alas! is an enigma to me. I only know that he has made an attempt upon my life, and that at least one woman has been sent to the grave by foul means."

"Do you really infer that Señor De Gex is an assassin?" he asked incredulously.

"I only tell you what I know, Señor Rivero," I replied quietly. "I said that I would lead you to the secret abode of Despujol, and I think I have now fulfilled my promise, and shown you that he is on friendly terms with the great financier whom you in Spain all hold in such high esteem."

"There is certainly no man more welcome in Madrid than Señor De Gex," replied the police official. "At the Ritz, whether in his own name or incognito, he constantly receives our greatest politicians and most prominent personages. Even the King has more than once commanded him to the palace, in order to confer with him upon acute financial problems in the interests of our country. And yet you infer that Señor De Gex is an assassin!"

"I not only infer it," I said, "but I openly allege it!" I added hotly, as I thought of Gabrielle.

Rivero glancing at me quickly raised his shoulders with a gesture of disbelief.

"Very well," I said. "At least I have proved to you that he is a secret friend of the notorious Despujol. Why is he here in Nîmes to consult with De Gex and his friend the Italian, Moroni, if not for purposes of evil? Despujol has made desperate war upon society, and it is De Gex who secretly finances him! Hence he is the servant of the man with money."

The dark-faced Spaniard reflected.

"Well," he exclaimed at last. "What you have revealed is certainly most interesting."

"And if you wish to capture Despujol you must lose no time," I assured him. "Remember, he and his gang have agents everywhere with eyes and ears open. He will soon know of the raid upon his retreat in Montauban."

"No doubt he will," agreed my companion. "They will return presently, and then we will arrest him. In the meantime I will call upon the Commissary of Police. Come with me."

We at once took a cab to the Prefecture where we were ushered into the presence of Monsieur Coulagne, a rather tall, grey-haired elegant man, with the rosette of the Legion of Honour in his coat.

When Rivero introduced himself the Commissary bowed to us both and bade us be seated.

In a few quick sentences the Spanish detective explained the object of his mission, and producing his authority from the Spanish Ministry, requested the arrest of the infamous bandit Despujol.

"But is Despujol actually in Nîmes?" cried the Commissary astounded.

"He certainly is. I identified him on his arrival here at midday."

"We have been searching for him for over two years. He is wanted, among other things, for the murder of Madame Lescot, a wealthy widow of Aix-en-Provence."

"Ah! Then it is not a matter for extradition, eh?" remarked Rivero. "We want him for a dozen crimes of violence in Spain. He attempted the death of my English companion here, Monsieur Garfield--who will give evidence against him."

The Commissary pressed an electric button, whereupon his secretary appeared.

In a few rapid sentences the tall, elegant French official gave orders, and the secretary retired at once to execute them.

"Despujol is a desperate character. He is always armed, and possesses abnormal strength. He could strangle his strongest opponent," Rivero remarked.

"I have taken precautions," replied Monsieur Coulagne, smiling. "I have ordered ten men in plain clothes to go at once unobtrusively to the Hôtel du Luxembourg, and arrest him when he returns."

"That will frighten De Gex and Moroni," I said quickly. "And if they are frightened they will escape!"

Rivero laughed. I knew that he entirely disbelieved my statement. In his eyes the wealthy friend of Spain could do no wrong. Did not his King invite him to conference, in ignorance, of course, of his true character?

I was not surprised at Rivero's attitude, yet I had hoped that Despujol's arrest would be effected without the knowledge of De Gex and his sinister medical friend.

I pointed this out, whereupon Rivero remarked with sarcasm:

"If what you allege against Señor De Gex and his friend be true, they ought also to be arrested."

"Yes. They ought, and they will be when I am able to bring forward sufficient evidence to convict them," I replied warmly. "Why, I ask you, should Oswald De Gex be in secret association with that dangerous bandit?"

The Spaniard merely shrugged his shoulders, while at the Commissary's request a dossier was brought in, and then they both went through a long catalogue of crimes alleged to have been instigated or actually committed by the man whom I had found in my bedroom, and who had so cleverly deceived me.

The list was a formidable one, and showed how elusive was the man whom the police of Europe had been hunting for so long.

Among the big batch of papers was a report in English from the Metropolitan Police at Scotland Yard stating that the individual in question had arrived in London on a certain date, and stayed with a respectable family at Ham, near Richmond, representing himself to be a lawyer from Barcelona. Thence he had gone to Glasgow, where he stayed at a certain hotel, and then moved to Oban. Afterwards he had come south again to Luton, in Bedfordshire, where all trace of him had been lost.

"Well," laughed Rivero triumphantly, "we shall take good care not to lose him now!"

"No," said the Commissary of Police. "My men will be armed, and will take him, alive or dead!"

"And De Gex and Moroni will then instantly flee!" I said, full of regret that I had taken that step which might so easily result in destroying all my chances of solving that puzzling enigma of Gabrielle Tennison.

Nevertheless, it was a source of satisfaction that at last Despujol had, by my watchfulness, been run to earth.

Suddenly the telephone at Monsieur Coulagne's elbow rang, and after listening, he exclaimed:

"The men are already posted round the hotel. So all we have to do is to await his return."

Hence I went forth with Rivero and the Commissary. Led by the latter, we approached the Place de l'Esplanade through a labyrinth of narrow back streets until, on gaining the hotel, we saw idling in the vicinity a number of men who were apparently quite disinterested.

We entered the hotel boldly, and drawing back to the end of the lounge, after a whispered word with the concierge, we waited.

For a full hour we remained there in eager impatience, until suddenly a figure whom I recognized as Doctor Moroni showed in the doorway.

He was alone!

He ascended to his room, where he remained for about ten minutes. Then, descending, he went to the bureau and inquired for the bill of his friend and himself, announcing his intention of departing for Paris by the train which left in half an hour!

Rivero, who had been standing near him unrecognized, crossed quickly to where with the Commissary I sat well back from observation, and gasped:

"They've gone! He is also leaving! Evidently they suspected they were under observation!"

"Ah! Despujol is a very wary bird," replied Monsieur Coulagne, rising and walking out into the Place, where he whispered some hurried words to a stout, well-dressed man who was sauntering by, and who was his chief inspector.

In a few moments more than half the lurking police agents had disappeared to make inquiries at the railway station and in various quarters, and when he rejoined us--Moroni having returned upstairs--he said:

"Despujol cannot yet have gone very far. I have given orders for all railway stations within two hundred kilomètres to be warned. Let us return to my bureau and await reports."

"And what about Moroni?" I asked.

"He will be followed. I have already seen to that," was the reply.

Back at the Prefecture Monsieur Coulagne was soon speaking rapidly over the telephone. Then we waited for news of the fugitive. None came until about two hours afterwards the result of inquiries was told to us by an inspector.

It seemed that on the previous day a large open car, driven by a chauffeur, put into Carli's Garage, a big establishment in the Boulevard des Arènes. The chauffeur asked for a receipt for the car, saying that he had to go by train to Marseilles, and that his master would probably call for the car on the following day, and produce the receipt. He asked that it should be filled up with petrol in readiness for his master. About two hours before the police made inquiry three gentlemen entered the garage, the descriptions of whom tallied with those of De Gex, Despujol and Moroni. De Gex produced the receipt for the car. He paid for the petrol, and he and Despujol drove away bidding farewell to Moroni! Despujol drove the car.

"Ah!" exclaimed Rivero. "Despujol would not risk the train. He always arranges a secret means of escape. In this case he prepared it on the day before. Without a doubt he knew that watch was being kept."

"Or was it that De Gex knew that I was here?" I suggested.

"Well, in any case," remarked the Commissary of Police, "the pair have got clear away, and though we will do our best, it will no doubt be extremely difficult to rediscover them. They will change the number-plates on the car, and perhaps repaint it! Who knows? Despujol is one of the most desperate characters in all Europe!"

"And Oswald De Gex is equally dangerous!" I declared, for I was still no nearer the truth.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND

GABRIELLE AT HOME

I had been back in London a little over a week when I read in the paper one morning a paragraph which possessed for me a peculiar interest. It ran as follows: