THREE LETTERS
Sheard did not remain many minutes in Downing Street that night. The
rooms were uncomfortably crowded and insupportably stuffy. A vague idea
which his common sense was impotent to combat successfully, that he
would see or hear from Séverac Bablon amidst that political crush proved
to be fallacious--as common sense had argued. He wondered why his
extraordinary friend--for as a friend he had come to regard him--had
been unable to keep his appointment. He wondered when the promised news
would be communicated.
That one of the Americans, or two, to whose presence he was becoming
painfully familiar, had followed him since he had left the office he was
well aware. But, as he had thrown off the man who had tried to follow
him to Finchley Road, he was untroubled now. They had probably secured
the Dulwich address; but that was due to no fault of his own, and, in
any case, Bablon seemed to regard all their efforts with complete
indifference. So, presumably, it did not matter.
On his way out he met two hot and burly gentlemen, rather ill-dressed,
who were hastening in. Instinctively he knew them for detective
officers. Hailing a cab at the corner, he sank restfully into the seat
and felt in his pocket for his cigarette-case. There was a letter there
also, which he did not recollect to have been there before he entered
Downing Street.
In some excitement he took it out and opened the plain envelope.
It contained a correspondence-card and a letter. Both of these, and a
third letter which reached its destination on the following morning,
whilst all England and all France were discussing the amazing
circumstances set forth in No. 2, are appended in full.
* * * * *
No. 1
"MY DEAR SHEARD,--I enclose the promised 'exclusive to the
_Gleaner_.' It will appear in no other paper of London, but in two
of Paris, to-morrow. Forgive me for sending you to Dulwich. I did
so for a private purpose of my own, and rely upon your generous
friendship to excuse the liberty. I write this prior to visiting
Downing Street, where it will be quite impossible, amongst so many
people, to speak to you. Do not fear that there exists any evidence
of complicity between us. I assure you that you are safe."
* * * * *
No. 2
"To the Editor of the _Gleaner_.
"SIR,--I desire to show myself, as always, a man of honour, and
presume to request the freedom of your most valuable columns for
that purpose. I address myself to the British public through the
medium of the _Gleaner_ as the most liberal journal in London, and
that most opposed to government by plutocracy.
As the inventor of the digital system of identification, of the
anthroposcopic method, and of the _Code_ which bears my name, I am
known to your readers, as well as for my years of labour against
criminals of all classes and of all nations. I have been called the
head of my profession, and shall I be accused of vanity if, with my
hand upon my heart, I acknowledge that tribute and say, 'It is well
deserved'?
"Under date as above, I am resigning my office as Chief of that
department which I have so long directed, being no more in a
position to perform my duties as a man of honour, since I have been
instructed to take charge of what is called 'the Séverac Bablon
case.'
"It is the first time that my duty to France has run contrary to my
duty to the great, the marvellous man whom you know by that name,
and to whom I owe all that I have, all that I am; whose orders I
may not and would not disregard.
"By his instructions I performed to-day a little deception upon the
representatives of English law and upon one of my esteemed
colleagues--a most capable and honourable man, for whom I cherish
extreme regard, and whom I would wish to see in the office I now
resign. He is not one of Us, and in every respect is a suitable
candidate for that high post.
"I was honoured, then, by instructions to impersonate my Leader. No
reference here to my powers of disguise is necessary. I took the
place of him you call Séverac Bablon at a certain Laurel Cottage in
Dulwich. I entered with the key he had entrusted to me, too quickly
to be arrested, if any had tried, and none made the attempt, which
was an error of strategy (see _Code_, pp. 336-43). All in the dark
I placed his coat and hat upon the table. I overlooked something in
the gloom, but no matter. I correct my errors; it is the Secret. I
was not otherwise disguised. It was not necessary. I waited until
one of those watching broke into the little room at the back. I
stood beside the window. Noiseless as the leopard I stepped behind
him as he entered. I could have slain him with ease. I did not do
so. I proclaimed myself. _I_ was entering, too!
"Why should I name the man to whom I thus offered the one great
chance of a lifetime? No, I am so old at this game. He overlooked
no more than another must have done--any more than I.
"But, although outside it poured with rain, my clothes were scarce
wet. How had I watched and kept dry?
"He did not ask himself. No matter. I gave him his chance. We
French, to-day, are sportsmen!
"I understand that my Leader brought about this _contretemps_ with
deliberation, in order to terminate my false position, and make
prominent this statement, and I am instructed to remind my
authorities that State secrets of international importance are in
my possession and thus in his. But, lastly, I would assure France
and the world that no blot of dishonour is upon my name because I
have served two masters. My great Leader never did and never will
employ this knowledge to any improper end. But he would have my
Government know something--so very little--of his influence and of
his power. He would have them recall those warrants for his
apprehension that place him on a level with the Apache, the
ruffian; that are an _insult_ to a man who has never done wrong to
a living soul, but who only has exercised the fundamental, the
Divine, the Mosaic Law of _Justice_.
"I loved my work and I love France. But I grieve not. Other work
will be given to me. I make my bow; I disappear. Adieu!
"I am, sir,
"Your obedient servant,
"VICTOR LEMAGE
"(late _Service de Sûreté_)."
* * * * *
No. 3
(Received by Lady Mary Evershed)
"When, in your brave generosity, you accompanied your friend and
mine on her perilous journey to warn me that Mr. Oppner's
detectives had a plan for my capture, I knew, on the instant when
you stepped into Laurel Cottage, that Miss Oppner had made a wise
selection in the companion who should share her secret. I did not
regret having confided that address to her discretion. The warning
was unnecessary, but I valued it none the less. By an oversight,
for which I reproach myself, a clue to your presence was left
behind, when, but a few minutes before the police arrived, we left
the cottage--which had served its purpose. But another of my good
friends secured it, and I have it now. It is a white orchid. I have
ventured to keep it, that it may remind me of the gratitude I owe
to you both."