The Stretton Street Affair Part 36

Presently after a rapid conversation he put down the receiver, and said:

"Senor Rivero will meet you at the Delicias Station at two o'clock to-morrow morning. The express for Barcelona leaves at two-fifteen.

From Barcelona you can get direct to Nimes, and on to Montauban. And,"

he added, "I only hope you will be successful in arresting the notorious Despujol."

I thanked him, and suggested that if we should be fortunate enough to identify him, we should watch for the keeping of the appointment at the Hotel Luxembourg at Nimes on the following Monday.

"With whom is he keeping the appointment?" asked Senor Andrade.

"That I will disclose later," was my reply. "I know that the appointment has been fixed, and if we watch, we shall, I feel a.s.sured, gain some knowledge of considerable interest."

"As you wish," replied the Chief of Police, who now seemed convinced by my manner that I was in possession of certain actual facts. "You will meet Senor Rivero--eh?"

"Certainly," I said.

"Then I wish the pair of you the good fortune of arresting the a.s.sa.s.sin Despujol," he said as we shook hands and parted.

I drove at once to Hambledon's hotel, where I found that he had just retired to bed. As he stood in his pyjamas, surprised at my unexpected visit at that hour, I told him what I had arranged.

"Then I will remain here and watch De Gex's departure," he said.

"Yes. But be very careful of yourself," I urged. "Keep your revolver handy, for you never know when an attack may be made upon you. These fellows, though great men in the eyes of the world, employ desperate characters to do their dirty work."

"I'm quite alive to that fact, Hugh," replied my friend. "But we won't give up till we punish those responsible for poor Miss Tennison's state--will we?"

"No, we won't," I declared determinedly. "Of course we may be on a wrong scent, but something seems to tell me that we are pretty hot on the trail. The a.s.sa.s.sin Despujol would never have been employed by them if they did not hold us in dread."

"Your journey to Montauban will prove whether you are right, Hugh," he said, and then, after arranging that he should follow Suzor should De Gex leave without him, and that he should at once wire me word to the Poste Restante at Nimes, I left, and returning to the hotel packed my suit-case and later met the bald-headed but famous detective.

The latter proved an amusing companion who, during the long night journey to the Mediterranean, recounted to me many of his interesting experiences. His French was better than his English, so we conversed in the former tongue.

There was no sleeping carriage upon the train, therefore, after my companion had spoken to the conductor, we made ourselves as comfortable as we could in the first-cla.s.s compartment which had been reserved for us. At half-past three in the morning, with true Spanish forethought, he produced some sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a bottle of excellent wine, upon which we made a hearty meal, after which we dozed in our corners till dawn.

Throughout the day my companion, who was quite as eager as myself to arrest the notorious Despujol, chatted in French as we went slowly down the fertile valley of the Ebro and suddenly out to where on our right lay the broad blue sea. Not until late afternoon did we arrive at Barcelona, and having two hours to wait we went along the Paseo de San Juan to the Francia Station, and having deposited our bags there, strolled along to the Plaza de Cataluna, where, at the gay Maison Doree, we had coffee and cigarettes, while my companion read the _Diario_ and I watched the picturesque crowd about us. Rivero knew Barcelona well, so after we had finished our cigarettes we took a taxi to the Central Police Office, where we had a chat with the chief of the Detective Department, a short stout little man with a round boyish face and a black moustache. After that we took another taxi along to the toy-fair in the Plaza de la Const.i.tucion, it being the Feast of St. George, the patron saint of Catalonia, which accounted for the bustle and gaiety of the city.

Then, after an interesting half-hour, we returned to the station and set out upon our slow eight-hour journey through the rich wine lands of Catalonia, with their quaint mediaeval villages and towns, with occasional glimpses of sapphire sea, and pa.s.sing over many ravines and gullies we at last, long after nightfall, entered a long tunnel at the end of which was the station of Port-Bou, the French frontier.

The usual prying douaniers were quickly at work, and after some coffee at the Restaurant Baque, which is so well known to travellers to Southern Spain, we re-entered the train for Narbonne, where in the morning we changed and travelled to Montauban, by way of Carca.s.sonne and Toulouse.

It was late in the afternoon when, on arrival at our destination, we took rooms at the Hotel du Midi on the opposite side of the Tarn to the prosperous pleasant little French town, once a headquarter of the Inquisition, and even now containing in its Museum the executioner's axe and many instruments of torture. After a wash and a meal, for we were both very hungry, we set out to find Monsieur Charles Rabel, whose address was Rue de Lalande, number 163.

We crossed the wonderful old brick bridge from Villebourbon to the town--a bridge built in the fourteenth century with an internal pa.s.sage running beneath the roadway to the ancient Chateau. Then, making our way past the old Church of St. Jacques, with its fine Gothic octagonal tower, and pa.s.sing through a number of streets we found ourselves in the narrow old-world Rue de Lalande.

Just as we entered the street, which contained a number of small shops, I halted.

"He must not see me!" I exclaimed.

"I quite agree," replied the Spanish detective. "There is a little cafe over there. Go in and wait for me. I will make some discreet inquiries concerning this Monsieur Rabel."

Hence we parted, and while Senor Rivero sauntered along the street in search of the house in question, I went into the cafe and ordered a bock.

Full of anxiety lest, after all, this man Rabel should be a respectable citizen, I waited.

Time pa.s.sed slowly. Half an hour went by. I ordered a mazagran and sat smoking, trying to suppress my eagerness. An hour elapsed--an hour and a half--two hours!

I waited yet another half-hour until the proprietor of the cafe began to look askance at me. Then I paid, and rising, went out into the street.

It was now dark. There was no sign of my friend the Spanish police agent. He had disappeared!

I stood upon the pavement full of anxiety and bewilderment.

What could have happened to him?

CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH

MADEMOISELLE JACQUELOT

I returned to my rather barely-furnished room at the Hotel du Midi which overlooked the Place outside the station in the suburb across the river, and sank into a chair to reflect.

The concierge--a lad who wore the concierge's cap--the concierge being off duty at his evening meal--informed me that my friend had not returned. He seemed an alert French lad of that type so frequently seen in Continental hotels.

Senor Rivero had disappeared! For an hour I waited seated alone in my room reflecting deeply. My sole desire and fixed object was to solve the enigma of Gabrielle Tennison's unfortunate mental state and to bring to justice those unscrupulous blackguards responsible for it. As I sat there her pale beautiful face arose before me--the wonderful countenance of the girl who had, in such a strange and indescribable manner, taken possession of my soul. To a.n.a.lyse my feelings towards her was impossible. I put to myself the query why I loved her, but I was utterly unable to answer it.

I loved her most pa.s.sionately and devotedly. That was all.

The tragedy of the situation was that I loved one who, alas! could not return my affection as a girl with her mental balance unaffected could do. Her poor unbalanced brain could never allow her to understand me, or to return my love.

I was tired after the long sleepless journey from Spain, and I suppose I must have dozed in my chair.

I awoke suddenly, hearing a tap upon the door, and an elderly chambermaid entered with a telegram.

I tore it open and found it had been dispatched from Castelsarrasin, and was from Rivero, saying: "Absence unavoidable. Hope to be back by midnight."

"Where is Castelsarrasin?" I inquired of the woman.

"It is about sixteen kilometres from here, m'sieur," replied the buxom woman in the strong accent of Toulouse. "It is on the road to Agen and the railway junction for Beaumont-de-Lomagne. Just a small town. They say that the name is a corruption of Castel-sur-Azin. At least my mother used to tell me so."

What, I wondered, had taken the head of the Madrid detective force out there? He must be following some fresh clue.

So I went forth across the bridge to a big cafe opposite the theatre, and there idled till nearly midnight, when I returned eagerly to meet my friend.

He entered my room just before one o'clock in the morning, tired and dusty, for he appeared to have walked a long distance. I had some cognac and a syphon of seltzer awaiting him, and sinking exhausted into a chair, he took a long and refres.h.i.+ng drink before he spoke.

"Well?" he said with a sigh. "You have been wondering why I disappeared so mysteriously--eh? The fact is I was compelled. On making inquiry of a shoemaker who has a little shop near Charles Rabel's house I learned that the man for whom we are searching lived in a flat on the first floor of the house kept by a widow named Cailliot. But he was frequently absent in England or in Italy. Only for short spells was he there, for he was a commercial traveller representing a Lyons firm of silkweavers. As we were speaking, the shoemaker pointed to a rather smart young woman who was at that moment leaving the house, and said: 'Look! That is Mademoiselle Jacquelot, the fiancee of Monsieur Charles! She might tell you where he is. I do not think he is at home to-day. I saw him four days ago and spoke to him as he pa.s.sed. But I believe he has left again!' I thanked him, and at once followed Mademoiselle, hence I had no time to tell you, for I had no idea where she was going. I saw that by following Rabel's fiancee I might gain some useful knowledge. She walked to the station, and took a ticket for Castelsarrasin. I did the same. We had half an hour to wait, but I spent it patiently, and when we left I travelled alone with her in the same compartment. Soon I managed to get into conversation with her, whereupon I mentioned that I had a friend, Monsieur Charles Rabel, in Montauban, and that we had met in Paris. He had once shown me her photograph and I believed I was not mistaken that she was Mademoiselle Jacquelot. At first she was surprised, but I told her a very plausible story, whereupon she explained that Charles had gone to Toulouse on business three days before, but that he was returning at noon to-morrow. She herself lived in Castelsarrasin."