The Blue Lights Part 24

"Obliged! Why?"

"Because I want your promise that you will make no attempt to stop him.

If I had said nothing, you might have watched the house, and, upon recognizing the fellow as the one who was here tonight, have placed him under arrest. I want you to do nothing to interfere with either his coming or his going. He will be safe, after he once leaves the Arc de Triomphe in his automobile."

"But the police?"

"They know nothing of the matter. Miss Goncourt has given me her word to remain silent. She has even agreed to have the men on watch about the house withdrawn. Both you and the police may do your best to catch this man, after I have carried out my compact with him; but until then I want you to keep your hands off."

Duvall was silent for a moment. "Very well, Mr. Stapleton, I shall do as you say. In fact, to a.s.sure you that I am carrying out your wishes, I will agree to remain here with you, at the house, throughout the evening."

"Good! I shall expect you. Good night."

"Good night." Duvall left the house, and went at once to his hotel.

Here, a few moments later, he seated himself in an easy chair, and taking from his pocket the cigarette which he had secured in the chauffeur's room, regarded it critically.

After some little time, he took a match from a box upon a nearby table, and, placing the gold tip of the cigarette between his lips, carefully lit it.

He drew the smoke into his lungs, inhaling it deeply. Once--twice--three times he repeated the operation, then threw himself back into his chair, and, closing his eyes, sat buried in thought. In his preoccupation, he allowed the end of the cigarette to fall unheeded to the floor.

After many minutes he opened his eyes and started up. "I've got it!" he cried, and, picking up the half-burned cigarette from the floor, threw it carelessly into the fireplace.

Then he sat down at his table, drew out a sheet of paper and a map of the city of Paris, and began to make a series of drawings and calculations that occupied him far into the night.

CHAPTER XIII

It was nearly ten o'clock when the taxicab containing Grace Duvall stopped alongside the road, at a point some four miles beyond the city, in the direction of Versailles. She had been unable to give the driver the exact location at which she desired to be put down, but had directed him to drive on until she told him to stop.

The spot was quite familiar to her, owing to the hours she had spent in the vicinity with the searching party the day before.

The taxicab driver seemed rather surprised to see her alight at this somewhat lonely spot; but he shrugged his shoulders with true Parisian indifference, pocketed the tip she gave him, and drove rapidly off in the darkness.

Left to herself by the roadside, Grace began to fear that she had, after all, done a rather foolish thing. Now that she was here, she hardly knew how to begin.

All about her she saw the dark outlines of cottages among the trees, with here and there a straggling light which betokened some household late in getting to bed. The country people in this vicinity--growers of flowers and vegetables or dairymen for the most part--were asleep with their cows about the time that Paris began to dine.

Occasionally the silence about her was broken by the mournful howling of a dog; but otherwise all was still.

The night was cloudless, and the lightening of the sky toward the east told her that before long a moon would rise above the trees.

Near the road she found a little rustic bench, and upon this she sat down to think.

The howling of the dog had suggested to her mind a possible clue to the house within which Mr. Stapleton's boy had been, for a time at least, confined. She could remember nothing of the garden, and but little of the room in which she had been confined; but the dog, playing upon the gra.s.s with the child, had fixed itself in her memory. She recollected distinctly that he was a poodle, mostly black, with fine curling hair, like astrakhan fur, and a pointed nose.

There were many dogs of this sort, she well knew, and yet there was one peculiarity which had impressed itself upon her memory, which would inevitably serve to identify this particular dog, should she ever see him again. His long and bushy tail, black for the most part like the rest of his body, terminated in a plume of white hair.

It was a most unusual marking in a French poodle. She had never seen it before, and she was a great lover of dogs, and knew them thoroughly. It was this fact, no doubt, which had caused her to notice the animal, at a time when her mind was filled with matters of vastly greater importance.

She had sought carefully for such a dog, on the occasion of the previous search, but had not found him. The tale about the escaped cobra had caused the country folk to lock up their pets without loss of time.

Now she hoped to find this dog, and through him discover the location of the house in which she had been confined. After that--well, she would do the best she could.

It occurred to her that she was not at all likely to discover the whereabouts of the black poodle by sitting here on a bench; yet she dared not start out until the moon had risen sufficiently high to light up her way.

In about an hour, the rim of the golden disk showed itself above the treetops, and a little later the black shadows about her began to grow luminous, and resolve themselves into white-walled cottages, hedges, and outbuildings of various sorts.

A narrow lane ran off from the main road, bordered on each side by lindens and poplars.

Along this lane the houses of the little hamlet were set, some near the road, others quite a distance back. She rose, and began to walk slowly along the lane.

As she had expected, dogs of various sorts and sizes, to judge by their voices, began barking as soon as she came opposite the first house. A small fox terrier ran through the gateway of a garden, yelping sharply.

The deep-toned baying of a hound sounded farther up the street. A small white poodle, and a black one of the same size, ran after her, as she went along, making friendly attempts to play. The one she sought, however, seemed nowhere in evidence.

The lane ascended a gently sloping hill, at the top of which stood a house, somewhat larger than the others, whose outbuildings and pastures proclaimed it to be a dairy farm. There was a hedge of roses along the roadside, and a little wooden gate.

Grace heard a sharp bark on the other side of the gate as she pa.s.sed it, and, stopping, glanced over. In the shadow stood a black poodle; but whether his tail showed the markings for which she sought she was unable to tell on account of the darkness. She gave the gate a gentle push, and it slowly opened. The dog ran out into the road. As he crossed a patch of moonlight, she saw that her search was ended. This, she was convinced, was the dog--and the house!

Her next problem was how to get inside. Try as she would, she could think of no excuse which would adequately account for her presence in this little frequented locality at such a time of night. That the occupants of the house had long ago retired was evidenced by the blackness of the windows, the silence which brooded over the whole place.

She looked about her. Just across the lane from the little gate a building loomed formless against a shadowy clump of trees. She went over to it, and found that it was a small shed. The door stood open.

Inside stood a tumbledown old wagon, dust covered, and quite evidently unused for a long time. The shelter of the shed seemed grateful--as though she had arrived somewhere, instead of being a wanderer in the night.

There seemed nothing to do, now, but wait for daylight. She climbed into the creaking wagon and sat upon the seat. There was a back to it, which, like the seat, was covered with old and torn velveteen. She leaned back in the shadow and closed her eyes. Her walk, the night air, had made her tired. In the distance she heard, after a long time, the faint booming of a bell. She looked at her watch. It was midnight.

The next thing that Grace remembered was the loud barking of a dog. She sat up, feeling stiff and cold. Her neck and left shoulder ached painfully. A glance through the open door of the shed told her that it was still night; but there was a gray radiance in the air, a soft pale light, that betokened the coming of dawn.

She crept stiffly down from the wagon, and again consulted her watch. It marked the hour of four. Through a dusty window in the side of the shed she saw the eastern sky, rose streaked and bright, heralding the sun.

As the light increased, she saw the dog that had disturbed her sleep running about on the gra.s.s in front of the house opposite. The house seemed much nearer, in the daylight, than it had appeared at night. She examined the dog closely. The white tip of his tail, waving gaily in the morning light, showed her that it was the one she had sought.

She crouched in the dim shadow of the half-open door and watched the scene before her. There was a man, moving about among the small buildings to the right. She heard him performing some task--she could not at first make out what. Presently the lowing of cattle, the rattle of a bucket, as it was drawn up by a creaking windla.s.s, told her that the man was tending his cows.

Quite half an hour later she saw him going toward the house, a pail, evidently well filled, in each hand.

Then ensued another long silence. The curling wisp of smoke from the chimney of the cottage indicated breakfast, and Grace suddenly realized that she felt cold, and hungry. For the first time in her life she realized how important one's breakfast is, in beginning the day.

Presently the man reappeared and went toward a small building which Grace took to be the barn. She could see him clearly now; for the sun had risen above the trees and lit up the whole scene brilliantly. He was a small, wizened man, with gray hair and a slight stoop. She was quite certain that she had never seen him before.

He went to the barn, and she saw that he was engaged in harnessing a horse, which he presently attached to a farm wagon. She noted the wagon particularly. It was a low two-wheeled affair, with a dingy canvas top.

A large patch in the canvas showed yellow-white in the sunlight. The horse was white.

In a little while the man began to put in the cart a variety of objects which he brought from the barn. They appeared to be baskets of vegetables or fruit, and cans of milk. Presently he stopped, and went toward the house. In a few minutes he returned. This time a woman was with him. They carried between them a large wicker basket, which appeared to be quite heavy. There was a top on the basket. Grace wondered if it could be filled with laundry.

The couple placed the basket in the wagon, putting it in from the front, so that it occupied a position close beside the driver. In getting it up over the wheel the woman let her end of it slip, and the man cursed her with such sudden sharpness that Grace was startled and crouched back into the shed. She wondered what the basket could contain, that made the man so careful, and the thought came to her, might it not be Mr.

Stapleton's boy?