The rest of the first day at Aix passed without any important
incident. I was a trifle surprised that the Colonel did not put in an
appearance; but it was explained by l'Echelle, whom I met by
appointment later in the day. I understood from him that the Colonel
had decided to remain down in the town, where he had many friends, and
where he was more in the thick of the fun. For Aix-les-Bains, as every
one knows, is a lively little place in the season, and the heart and
centre of it all is the Casino. The Colonel had established himself in
a hotel almost next door, and ran up against me continually that
afternoon and evening, as I wandered about now under the trees
listening to the band, now at the baccarat table, where I occasionally
staked a few _jetons_ of the smaller values.
He never failed to meet my eye when it rested on him; he seemed to
know intuitively when I watched him, and he always looked back and
laughed. If any one was with him, as was generally the case--smart
ladies and men of his own stamp, with all of whom he seemed on very
familiar terms--he invariably drew their attention to me, and they,
too, laughed aloud after a prolonged stare. It was a little
embarrassing; he had so evidently disclosed my business, in scornful
terms no doubt, and held me up to ridicule, describing in his own way
and much to my discredit all that had happened between us. Once he had
the effrontery to accost me as I stood facing the green board on which
the telegrams are exposed.
"Where have we met?" he began, with a mocking laugh. "I seem to know
your face. Ah, of course, my old friend Falfani, the private detective
who appeared in the Blackadder case. And I think I have come across
you more recently."
"I beg you will not address yourself to me. I don't know you, I don't
wish to know you," I replied, with all the dignity I could assume. "I
decline to hold any conversation with you," and I moved away.
But several of his rowdy friends closed around me and held me there,
compelled to listen to his gibes as he rattled on.
"How is his lordship? Well, I hope. None the worse for that little
_contretemps_ this morning. May I ask you to convey to him my deep
regrets for what occurred, and my sincere wishes for his recovery? If
there is anything I can do for his lordship, any information I can
give him, he knows, I trust, that he can command me. Does he propose
to make a lengthened stay here?"
"His lordship--" I tried vainly to interrupt him.
"Let me urge him most strongly to go through the course. The warm
baths are truly delightful and most efficacious in calming the temper
and restoring the nerve-power. He should take the Aix treatment, he
should indeed. I am doing so, tell him; it may encourage him."
"Colonel, this is quite insufferable," I cried, goaded almost to
madness. "I shall stand no more of it. Leave me in peace, I'll have no
more truck with you."
"And yet it would be wiser. I am the only person who can be of any use
to you. You will have to come to me yet. Better make friends."
"We can do without you, thank you," I said stiffly. "His lordship
would not be beholden to you, I feel sure. He can choose his own
agents."
"And in his own sneaking, underhand way," the Colonel answered
quickly, and with such a meaning look that I was half-afraid he
suspected that we were tampering with his man. "But two can play at
that game, as you may find some day."
When I met l'Echelle that same evening as arranged, at the Café Amadeo
in the Place Carnot, I questioned him closely as to whether his master
had any suspicion of him, but he answered me stoutly it was quite
impossible.
"He knows I see you, that of course, but he firmly believes it is in
his own service. He is just as anxious to know what you are doing as
you are to observe him. By the way, have you heard anything of your
other man?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"Oh, don't trouble; only if I could pass him on a bit of news either
way it might lead him to show his hand. If Tiler is getting 'hot'--you
know the old game--he might like to go after him. If Tiler is thrown
out the Colonel will want to give help in the other direction."
"That's sound sense, I admit. But all I can tell you is we had a
telegram from him an hour or two ago which doesn't look as if he was
doing much good. It was sent from Lyons, a roundabout way of getting
to Paris from here, and now he's going south! Of all the born idiots!"
"Poor devil! That's how he's made. It's not everyone who's a born
detective, friend Falfani. It's lucky my lord has you at his elbow."
We parted excellent friends. The more I saw of l'Echelle the more I
liked him. It was a pleasure to work with a man of such acute
perceptions, and I told him so.
Nothing fresh occurred that night or the next day. I was never very
far off my Colonel, and watched him continually but unobtrusively. I
hope I know my business well enough for that.
I was rather struck by a change in his demeanour. It was very subtle,
and everyone might have noticed it. He wore an air of preoccupation
that spoke to me of an uneasy mind. He was unhappy about something;
some doubt, some secret dread oppressed him, and more than once I
thought he wished to keep out of sight and avoid my searching
interrogative eyes.
"You're right," said l'Echelle. "He's down on his luck, and he don't
want you to see it. He's dying for news that don't seem in a hurry to
come. Half a dozen times to-day he's asked me to inquire if there's a
telegram for him, and he haunts the hall porter's box continually in
the hope of getting one. Have you heard any more from Tiler?"
"Yes, another mad telegram, this time from Marseilles. Fancy that! It
will be Constantinople next or Grand Cairo or Timbuctoo. The folly of
it!"
"What does my lord say?"
"Plenty, and it's not pleasant to bear. He's getting fairly wild, and
cart ropes won't hold him. He wants to go racing after Tiler now, and
if he does he'll give away the whole show. I hope to heaven your boss
will show his hand soon."
"It's not for me to make him, you must admit that. But cheer up,
_copain_, things may mend."
They did, as often happens when they seem to be at their worst.
I have always been an early riser, and was specially so at Aix, now
when the heat was intense, and the pleasantest hours of the day were
before the sun had risen high. I was putting the finishing touches to
my toilette about 7 A.M. when I heard a knock at my door, and
without waiting permission l'Echelle rushed in.
"Already dressed? What luck! There is not a moment to lose. Come
along. I've a _fiacre_ at the door below."
He gave the _établissement_ as the address, and we were soon tearing
down the hill. As we drove along l'Echelle told me the news.
"It's come, that satanic telegram, and just what he wanted, I'm
prepared to swear. He simply jumped for joy when he read it."
"But what was the message? Go on, go on, out with it!" I shouted
almost mad with excitement.
"I can't tell you that, for I haven't seen it yet."
"Are you making a fool of me?"
"How could I see it? He put it straight into his pocket. But I mean
to see it pretty soon, and so shall you."
"You mean to abstract it somehow--pick his pocket, or what?"
"Simplest thing in the world. You see he's gone to have his bath, he
likes to be early, and he's undergoing the douche at this very moment,
which means naturally that he's taken off his clothes, and they are
waiting in the dressing-room for me to take home. I shall have a good
quarter of an hour and more to spare before they carry him back to the
hotel in his blankets and get him to bed."
"Ha!" I said, "that's a brilliant idea. How do you mean to work it
out?"
"Take the telegram out of his waistcoat pocket, read it, or bring it
to you."
"Bring it; that will be best," I interrupted, feeling a tinge of
suspicion.
"But I must put it straight back," continued l'Echelle, "for he is
sure to ask for it directly he returns to the hotel."
Within a few minutes he had gone in and out again, carrying now one of
the black linen bags used by _valets de chambres_ to carry their
masters' clothes in. He winked at me as he passed, and we walked
together to a shady, retired spot in the little square where the
cab-stand is, and sat in the newspaper kiosk on a couple of
straw-bottomed chairs of the Central _café_.
"Read that," he said triumphantly, as he handed me the familiar scrap
of blue paper.
"Have got safely so far with nurse and baby--entreat you to follow
with all possible speed--dying to get on.--CLAIRE, Hôtel
Cavour, Milan."
"Excellent!" I cried, slapping my thigh. "This settles all doubts. So
much for that fool Tiler. My lord will be very grateful to you," and I
handed him back the telegram, having first copied it word for word in
my note-book.
"It means, I suppose," suggested l'Echelle, "that you will make for
Milan, too?"
"No fear--by the first train. You'll be clever if you get the start of
us, for I presume you will be moving."
"I haven't the smallest doubt of that; we shall be quite a merry
party. It will be quite like old times."