Part 1 (2/2)

”Is that all you know?” Duvall inquired pointedly. ”Surely the recovery of an article of so little consequence cannot be the real purpose of our visit.”

The little old man shrugged his shoulders, with an almost imperceptible gesture of dissent. ”I know nothing of the matter, monsieur,” he remarked, significantly, ”except that my country has called me, and that I am here.” He spoke the words proudly, as though he considered the fact that he had been called upon an honor.

”But surely, you must have some idea, monsieur, of your purpose in being here?”

”Yes. That is indeed quite simple. On one occasion I was called upon to repair the snuff box of Monsieur de Grissac, the Amba.s.sador. In that way I am familiar with its appearance. Now that it is lost, I am requested to accompany you, monsieur, in your attempt to recover it, in order that I may a.s.sist you in identifying it.”

”And beyond that, you know nothing?”

”Nothing, monsieur.”

Duvall began to chew the end of his cigar in vexation. Of all the absurd expeditions, this seemed the most absurd. Presently he turned to Dufrenne and again spoke. ”In your repairs upon this snuff box, to which so great a value is apparently attached, did you observe anything about it of a peculiar nature--anything to make its loss a matter of such grave importance?”

”Nothing, monsieur. It is a small, round ivory box, with a carved top, quite plain and of little value--”

”But the contents? What, perhaps, did Monsieur de Grissac carry within it?”

”Snuff, monsieur. It was quite half-full when it came to me, last April.

Monsieur de Grissac was in Paris at the time. The spring which actuates the top had become broken--the box is very old, monsieur--and I was required to repair it. That is all I know.”

”And you close your shop, and leave Paris without a word, just for a thing like that?”

Dufrenne straightened his bent shoulders, and his eyes sparkled. ”When France calls me, monsieur, I have nothing to do but obey.”

His reply seemed almost in the nature of a reproof. Duvall made no further comment and relapsed into a brown study. After all, he knew, even in his irritation, that Monsieur Lefevre had not sent him upon this adventure without some real and very good reason. Yet try as he would, he was unable to imagine what this reason could be. Of course, there must have been something inside the box, his final conclusion was, else why should any one have stolen it? No doubt the Amba.s.sador, Monsieur de Grissac, would acquaint him with the truth of the affair. Possibly the box may have contained papers of great value--though why one should choose such a place for the concealment of valuable papers he could not imagine. The whole affair seemed shrouded in mystery, and no amount of speculation on his part, apparently, would throw any light upon it. He lay back in his seat, dozing, and thinking of Grace and their interrupted honeymoon.

At Boulogne they transferred to the boat for Folkstone, and after a quiet pa.s.sage, found themselves on board the train for London. They reached Charing Cross early in the evening, and taking a cab, drove at once to Monsieur de Grissac's residence in Piccadilly, opposite Green Park.

CHAPTER II

While Richard Duvall was thus flying toward Boulogne, racking his brains in a futile attempt to discover the reasons for his sudden and unexpected dispatch to London, Grace, his wife, equally mystified, was proceeding in the direction of Brussels.

The reasons for her going to Brussels were no more clear to her than were Richard's, to him. At the conclusion of the wedding breakfast which had followed her simple marriage to Duvall, she had gone to the _pension_ at which she had been living, to await her husband's return.

She had not then understood the mysterious message which had summoned him to the Prefect's office, nor, for that matter, had he, but he had a.s.sured her that he would return in a short while, and that had been enough for her.

Her patient waiting had been finally terminated by the arrival of the Prefect himself, who had explained with polite brevity that a matter of the gravest importance had made it necessary for him to send Richard at once to London.

The girl's grief and alarm had been great--Monsieur Lefevre had at last, however, succeeded in convincing her that Richard could not under the circ.u.mstances have done anything but go. His position as an a.s.sistant to Lefevre, and more particularly the friends.h.i.+p which existed between them, made it imperative for him to come to the Prefect's a.s.sistance in this crisis.

What the crisis was, Grace did not learn. She had insisted upon following Richard, upon being near him, upon a.s.sisting him, should opportunity offer, and Monsieur Lefevre, seized with a sudden inspiration, had dispatched her to Brussels, with the a.s.surance that she would not only see her husband very soon, but might be able to render both him, and France, a very signal service.

Grace had accepted the mission; her desire to be near Richard was a compelling motive, and as a result she found herself flying toward the Belgian frontier, on an early afternoon express, with no idea whatever of what lay before her, and only a few words, written by Monsieur Lefevre upon a page torn from his notebook, to govern her future actions.

She luckily was able to find a compartment in one of the first-cla.s.s carriages where she could be alone, and sank back upon the cus.h.i.+oned seat, determined to face whatever dangers the future might hold, for the sake of her husband.

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