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Works of
ARTHUR GRIFFITHS
* * * * *
The Passenger from Calais $1.25
The Rome Express 1.25
* * * * *
L.C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building, Boston, Mass.
The Passenger
from Calais
By Arthur Griffiths
Author of "The Rome Express," etc.
Boston--L.C. Page and
Company--Publishers
_First Impression, January, 1906
Second Impression, February, 1906
Third Impression, February, 1906
Fourth Impression, March, 1908_
Colonial Press
_C.H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U.S.A._
FOREWORD
_I desire to state that the initial
fact upon which I have founded
this story is within my own experience.
I travelled from Calais to
Basle by the Engadine Express in
the latter end of July, 1902, when
my wife and myself were the only
passengers. The rest is pure fiction._
A.G.
CHAPTER I.
[_Colonel Annesley's Story_]
The crossing from Dover to Calais had been rough; a drizzling rain
fell all the time, and most of the passengers had remained below.
Strange to say, they were few enough, as I saw on landing. It was a
Sunday in late July, and there ought to have been a strong stream
setting towards Central Europe. I hardly expected to find much room in
the train; not that it mattered, for my place was booked through in
the Lucerne sleeping-car of the Engadine express.
Room! When I reached the siding where this train de luxe was drawn up,
I saw that I was not merely the first but the only passenger. Five
sleeping-cars and a dining-car attached, with the full staff,
attendants, chef, waiters--all lay there waiting for me, and me
alone.
"Not very busy?" I said, with a laugh to the conductor.
"_Parbleu_," replied the man, polyglot and cosmopolitan, like most of
his class, but a Frenchman, or, more likely from his accent, a Swiss.
"I never saw the like before."
"I shall have a compartment to myself, then?"
"Monsieur may have the whole carriage if he wishes--the whole five
carriages. It is but to arrange." His eyes glistened at the prospect
of something special in this obvious scarcity of coming tips.
"The train will run, I hope? I am anxious to get on."
"But assuredly it will run. Even without monsieur it would run. The
carriages are wanted at the other end for the return journey. Stay,
what have we here?"
We stood talking together on the platform, and at some little distance
from the railway station, the road to which was clear and open all the
way, so that I could see a little party of four approaching us, and
distinguish them. Two ladies, an official, probably one of the guards,
and a porter laden with light luggage.
As they came up I discreetly withdrew to my own compartment, the
window of which was open, so that I could hear and see all that
passed.
"Can we have places for Lucerne?" It was asked in an eager, anxious,
but very sweet voice, and in excellent French.
"Places?" echoed the conductor. "Madame can have fifty."
"What did I tell madame?" put in the official who had escorted her.
"I don't want fifty," she replied, pettishly, crossly, "only two. A
separate compartment for myself and maid; the child can come in with
us."
Now for the first time I noticed that the maid was carrying a bundle
in her arms, the nature of which was unmistakable. The way in which
she swung it to and fro rhythmically was that of a nurse and child.
"If madame prefers, the maid and infant can be accommodated apart,"
suggested the obliging conductor.
But this did not please her. "No, no, no," she answered with much
asperity. "I wish them to be with me. I have told you so already; did
you not hear?"
"_Parfaitement_, as madame pleases. Only, as the train is not
full--very much the reverse indeed--only one other passenger, a
gentleman--no more--"
The news affected her strangely, and in two very different ways. At
first a look of satisfaction came into her face, but it was quickly
succeeded by one of nervous apprehension, amounting to positive fear.
She turned to talk to her maid in English, while the conductor busied
himself in preparing the tickets.
"What are we to do, Philpotts?" This was said to the maid in English.
"What if it should be--"
"Oh, no, never! We can't turn back. You must face it out now. There is
nothing to be afraid of, not in that way. I saw him, the gentleman, as
we came up. He's quite a gentleman, a good-looking military-looking
man, not at all the other sort--you know the sort I mean."
Now while I accepted the compliment to myself, I was greatly mystified
by the allusion to the "other sort of man."
"You think we can go on, that it's safe, even in this empty train? It
would have been so different in a crowd. We should have passed
unobserved among a lot of people."
"But then there would have been a lot of people to observe us; some
one, perhaps, who knew you, some one who might send word."
"I wish I knew who this passenger is. It would make me much easier in
my mind. It might be possible perhaps to get him on our side if he is
to go with us, at least to get him to help to take care of our
treasure until I can hand it over. What a burden it is! It's terribly
on my mind. I wonder how I could have done it. The mere thought makes
me shiver. To turn thief! Me, a common thief!"
"Stealing is common enough, and it don't matter greatly, so long as
you're not found out. And you did it so cleverly too; with such a
nerve. Not a soul could have equalled you at the business. You might
have been at it all your life," said the maid, with affectionate
familiarity, that of a humble performer paying tribute to a great
artist in crime.
She was a decent, respectable-looking body too, this confederate whom
I concluded was masquerading as maid. The very opposite of the younger
woman (about her more directly), a neatly dressed unassuming person,
short and squat in figure, with a broad, plain, and, to the casual
observer, honest face, slow in movement and of no doubt sluggish
temperament, not likely to be moved or distressed by conscience,
neither at the doing or the memory of evil deeds.
Now the conductor came up and civilly bowed them towards their
carriage, mine, which they entered at the other end as I left it
making for the restaurant, not a little interested in what I had
heard.
Who and what could these two people be with whom I was so strangely
and unexpectedly thrown? The one was a lady, I could hardly be
mistaken in that; it was proved in many ways, voice, air, aspect, all
spoke of birth and breeding, however much she might have fallen away
from or forfeited her high station.
She might have taken to devious practices, or been forced into them;
whatever the cause of her present decadence she could not have been
always the thief she now confessed herself. I had it from her own
lips, she had acknowledged it with some show of remorse. There must
surely have been some excuse for her, some overmastering temptation,
some extreme pressure exercised irresistibly through her emotions, her
affections, her fears.
What! this fair creature a thief? This beautiful woman, so richly
endowed by nature, so outwardly worthy of admiration, a despicable
degraded character within? It was hard to credit it. As I still
hesitated, puzzled and bewildered, still anxious to give her the
benefit of the doubt, she came to the door of the buffet where I was
now seated at lunch, and allowed me to survey her more curiously and
more at leisure.
"A daughter of the gods, divinely tall and most divinely fair."
The height and slimness of her graceful figure enhanced by the
tight-fitting tailor-made ulster that fell straight from collar to
heel; her head well poised, a little thrown back with chin in the air,
and a proud defiant look in her undeniably handsome face. Fine eyes of
darkest blue, a well-chiseled nose with delicate, sensitive nostrils,
a small mouth with firm closely compressed lips, a wealth of glossy
chestnut hair, gathered into a knot under her tweed travelling cap.
As she faced me, looking straight at me, she conveyed the impression
of a determined unyielding character, a woman who would do much, dare
much, who would go her own road if so resolved, undismayed and
undeterred by any difficulties that might beset her.
Then, to my surprise, although I might have expected it, she came and
seated herself at a table close to my elbow. She had told her
companion that she wanted to know more about me, that she would like
to enlist me in her service, questionable though it might be, and here
she was evidently about to make the attempt. It was a little
barefaced, but I admit that I was amused by it, and not at all
unwilling to measure swords with her. She was presumably an
adventuress, clever, designing, desirous of turning me round her
finger, but she was also a pretty woman.
"I beg your pardon," she began almost at once in English, when the
waiter had brought her a plate of soup, and she was toying with the
first spoonful, speaking in a low constrained, almost sullen voice, as
though it cost her much to break through the _convenances_ in thus
addressing a stranger.
"You will think it strange of me," she went on, "but I am rather
awkwardly situated, in fact in a position of difficulty, even of
danger, and I venture to appeal to you as a countryman, an English
officer."
"How do you know that?" I asked, quickly concluding that my light
baggage had been subjected to scrutiny, and wondering what subterfuge
she would adopt to explain it.
"It is easy to see that. Gentlemen of your cloth are as easily
recognizable as if your names were printed on your back."
"And as they are generally upon our travelling belongings." I looked
at her steadily with a light laugh, and a crimson flush came on her
face. However hardened a character, she had preserved the faculty of
blushing readily and deeply, the natural adjunct of a cream-like
complexion.
"Let me introduce myself in full," I said, pitying her obvious
confusion; and I handed her my card, which she took with a shamefaced
air, rather foreign to her general demeanour.
"Lieut.-Colonel Basil Annesley, Mars and Neptune Club," she read
aloud. "What was your regiment?"
"The Princess Ulrica Rifles, but I left it on promotion. I am
unattached for the moment, and waiting for reëmployment."
"Your own master then?"
"Practically, until I am called upon to serve. I hope to get a staff
appointment. Meanwhile I am loafing about Europe."
"Do you go beyond Lucerne?"
"Across the St. Gothard certainly, and as far as Como, perhaps beyond.
And you? Am I right in supposing we are to be fellow travellers by the
Engadine express?" I went on by way of saying something. "To Lucerne
or further?"