Part 9 (2/2)

”I don't understand,” she said.

”Don't think of it. You can do nothing; and I don't grudge the sacrifice--or anything,” I hurried on.

”Yet I will think of it, if I ever have time to think of anything beyond this tangle. But now, it must be _au revoir_. Save me, save Raoul, if you can, Ivor. What you can do, I don't know. I'm groping in darkness.

Yet you're my one hope. For pity's sake, come to my house when the play's over, to tell me what you've done, if you've been able to do anything. Be there at twelve.”

”I promise.”

”Thank you. I shall live for that moment. Now, give me the diamonds, and I'll go. I don't want you to be seen with me outside this room.”

I gave her the necklace, and she was at the door before I could open it.

CHAPTER VII

IVOR IS LATE FOR AN APPOINTMENT

I was glad to be alone, for as I had said, I wanted to think quietly.

Maxine had taken the diamonds, but she had slipped the necklace into the bosom of her dress, pressing it down through the rather low-cut opening at the throat, and had therefore left the leather case. I picked the thing up from the table where she had thrown it, and examined it carefully for the first time.

It had not been originally intended as a jewel-case, that was clear; and as Maxine's voice had rung unmistakably true when she denied all previous knowledge of it to the police, I judged that the diamonds had not been in it when the d.u.c.h.ess entrusted them to du Laurier. He would almost certainly have described to Maxine the box or case which had been stolen from him, and if the thing pulled out from the sofa-hiding-place had recalled his description, she must have betrayed some emotion under the keen eyes of the Commissary of Police.

The case which, it seemed, I had brought to Paris, looked as if it might have been made to hold a peculiar kind of cigar, much longer than the ordinary sort. Within, on either side, was a part.i.tion, and there was a silver clasp on which the hallmark was English.

”English silver!” I said to myself, thoughtfully. The three men who had travelled in the carriage with me from London to Dover were all English.

Of the trio, only the nervous little fellow who had reserved the compartment for himself had found the smallest possible opportunity to steal the treaty from me, and exchange for it this red leather case containing a diamond necklace worth twenty thousand pounds. If he possessed the skill and quick deftness of a conjurer or a marvellously clever professional pickpocket, as well as the incentive of a paid spy, he might conceivably have done the trick at the moment of alarm on the boat's gangway, not afterwards; for when he had pressed near me in the Gare du Nord he had been on the wrong side. But for my life I could not guess the motive for such an exchange.

Supposing him a spy, employed to track and rob me of what I carried, why should he have made me a present of these rare and precious diamonds?

Would the bribe for which he used his skill reach anything like the sum he could obtain by selling the stones? I was almost sure it would not; and therefore, having the diamonds, it would have been far more to his advantage to keep them than to stuff them into my pocket, simply to fill up the s.p.a.ce where the case with the treaty had lain. There would not have been time yet for the real diamonds to have been copied in Amsterdam, therefore it would be useless to build up a theory that the stones given me might be false.

Besides, I reminded myself, if the man were a spy whose business was to watch and be near me, why hadn't he waited to see what I would do, where I would go, instead of taking a compartment, carefully reserving it, and trusting to such an unlikely chance as that I might force myself into it with him? Even if the three men had been in some obscure way playing into each others' hands, I could not see how their game had been arranged to catch me.

Maxine and I had talked for a long time, but not two hours had pa.s.sed yet since I saw the last of the little rat of a man in the railway-station. Though I could not understand any reason for his tricking me, still I told myself that n.o.body else could have done it, and I decided to go back at once to the Gare du Nord. There I might still be able to find some trace of the little man and of my two other fellow-travellers. If through a porter or cabman I could learn where they had gone, I might have a chance even now of getting back the stolen treaty. I had brought with me from London a loaded revolver, warned by the Foreign Secretary that to do so would be a wise precaution; and I was ready to make use of it if necessary.

I was beginning to be very hungry, but that was a detail of no importance, for I had no time to waste in eating. I went to the railway-station and looked about until I found a porter whose face I had seen when I got out of the train. He had, in fact, appeared under the window of my compartment, offering himself as a luggage carrier and had been close behind me when my late travelling companion walked by my side. Questioned, he appeared not to remember; but his wits being sharpened by the gift of a franc, he reflected and recalled not only my features but the features of the little man, whom he described with sufficient accuracy. What had become of _le pet.i.t Monsieur_ he was not certain, but fancied he had eventually driven away in a cab accompanied by two other gentlemen. He recollected this circ.u.mstance, because the face of the cabman was one that he knew; and it was now again in the station, for the _voiture_ had returned. Would he point out the _cocher_ to me? He would, and did, receiving a second franc for his pains.

The cab driver proved to be a dull and surly fellow, like many another _cocher_ of Paris, but the clink of silver and the sight of it mellowed him. I began by saying that I was in search of three friends of mine whom I was to have met when the boat train came in, but whom I had unfortunately missed. I asked him to describe the men he had driven away from the station at that time, and though he did it clumsily, betraying an irritating lack of observation when it came to details, still such information as I could draw from him sounded encouraging. He remembered perfectly well the place at which he had deposited his three pa.s.sengers, and I decided to take the risk of following them.

When I say ”risk,” I mean the risk that the man I was starting to chase might turn out not to be the man I wished to follow. Besides, as they had been driven to Neuilly, the distance was so great that, if I went there in a cab, and found at last that I had made a mistake, I should have wasted a great deal of valuable time on the wrong tack. If the driver had remembered the name of the street, and the number of the house at which he had paused, I would have hired a motor and flashed out to the place in a few minutes; but, despite a suggested bribe, he could say no more than that, when he had come to a certain place, one of his pa.s.sengers had called, ”Turn down the next street, to the left.” He had done so, and in front of a house, almost midway along that street, he had been bidden to stop. He had not bothered to look at the name of the street; but, though he was not very familiar with that neighbourhood, various landmarks would guide him to the right place, when he came to pa.s.s them again.

Having heard all he had to say, I reluctantly made up my mind that I could do no better than take the man as my conductor; and accordingly, with a horse already tired, I drove to Neuilly. There, the landmarks were not deceiving, as I was half afraid they would be; and in a quiet street of the suburb, we stopped at last before a fair-sized house with lights in many windows. Evidently it was a _pension_.

Of the man-servant who answered my ring, I enquired if three English gentlemen had lately arrived. He replied that they had, and were dining.

Would Monsieur give himself the pain of waiting a few minutes, until dinner should be over?

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