Part 32 (1/2)

Francois, however, fought well. He began to 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 detective'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 cras.h.i.+ng loudly against the wooden floor. Duvall stood over him for an instant, breathing heavily, convulsively, then turned and s.n.a.t.c.hed 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.

A towel, knotted about his ankles, rendered him helpless. Then the detective began to search upon the floor for the bit of blue gla.s.s.

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 gla.s.s cup, where it had rolled under the edge of the dresser when Francois had thrown it down. Trembling with haste, he fixed it to the searchlight which he took from the bed, and, with a hopeless feeling, approached the window, and began to wave the light frantically in the direction of Pa.s.sy.

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, hardly daring to hope that it would do so. Suddenly 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 b.u.t.ton 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 a.s.sistance? He could make nothing of the matter, but he reasoned that anyone calling for help would be sure to give their location, 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, then others in rapid succession: ”4-2-R-u-e-N-i-c-o-l-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 window, 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 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 ident.i.ty of the person who had sent him the message.

He rushed to the stairs, and with tottering footsteps 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 Pa.s.sy, 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 k.n.o.b; 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.

Suddenly she heard again the faint moaning. The sound almost drove her frantic. She rushed to the window and looked out, praying for guidance, for some ray of hope in the frightful situation in which she found herself.

Already several minutes had pa.s.sed 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.