his first movement of ill-temper, his show of impatience. Perhaps this
man had interesting things to say! He must give the fellow confidence.
Fandor smiled.
"Very well," he suggested amiably, "let us have a talk if you really
wish it."...
Corporal Vinson considered Fandor a moment, thanking him with a look
for his more cordial attitude; then suddenly drawing himself up into a
standing position, he shouted:
"Monsieur Fandor ... I am a traitor!"
Though far from expecting so brutal a declaration, Fandor sat tight.
He well knew that in such circumstances comments are useless. He rose
slowly, approached the soldier, and, placing his hands on the agitated
man's shoulders, pushed him back into the arm-chair.
"Control yourself, Monsieur, I beg of you," he said in a kind voice.
"You must not upset yourself like this! Be calm!"
Great tears flowed down the corporal's sunburnt cheeks, and Fandor
considered him, not knowing how to console so great, so spontaneous a
grief.
Amidst his despair, Corporal Vinson stammered out:
"Yes, Monsieur, it's because of a woman--you will understand--you who
write articles in which you say that there should be pity for such
unfortunates as I am--for one is a miserable wretch when a woman has
you in her clutches, and you have no money--and then, with that sort,
once you have started getting mixed up in their affairs, you are jolly
well caught--you have to do as you are told--and always they ask more
and more of you.... Ah, Monsieur, the death of Captain Brocq is a
frightful disaster! As for me.... If I have turned traitor--it is
their fault."...
The corporal murmured some unintelligible words, pronouncing names
unknown to Fandor; but our journalist was rejoicing more and more at
this outpouring.
Suddenly he got the impression that the mysterious happenings, the
obscure drama he had been on the fringe of for some days past was
becoming clear, that the veil of ignorance was being torn away. Fandor
had the sensation of being a spectator, before whose eyes a curtain
was slowly rising which until then had concealed the scenery of the
play.
The corporal continued, stammeringly:
"Ah, Monsieur, you do not know what it is to have for your mistress
such a woman as ... she whom I love, ... such a woman as ... Nichoune!
Nichoune! Ah, all Chalons knows what she is like. Her wickedness is
well known ... but for all that, there is not a man who."...
Fandor interrupted:
"But, my good corporal, why are you telling me all this?"
"Why, Monsieur," replied Vinson, after a pause and a piteous look,
"because--it's because ... I have sworn to tell you everything before
I die!"
"Hang it all! What do you mean to do?" asked Fandor.
The corporal replied simply, but his tone was decisive:
"I mean to kill myself!"
From this moment it was Fandor who, far from wishing to start off for
his train--he had given up any idea of leaving for the South that
evening--was bent on getting from the soldier further details about
his life.
Fandor now learned that the corporal had been in the service some
fifteen months. He had been among the first conscripts affected by the
new law of two years' compulsory service, and had been sent to the
214th of the line, in garrison at Chalons. Owing to his qualities he
had been much appreciated by all his superior officers. As soon as he
had finished his classes, he obtained his corporal's stripes, and in
consideration of his very good handwriting, and also owing to the
influence of a commandant, he got a snug post as secretary in the
offices of the fortress itself.
Vinson was thoroughly satisfied with his new situation; for, having
been brought up in his mother's petticoats, and practically the whole
of his adolescence having been passed behind the counter of the
maternal book-shop, he had much more the temperament of a clerk than
of an active out-of-doors man.
The only sport which he enjoyed was riding, riding a bicycle, and the
only luxury he allowed himself was photography.
Time passed. Then, one Sunday evening, he went with some comrades to a
Chalons music-hall.
Vinson's chief companions were some non-commissioned officers, a
little better off than he was.... Without being lavish in their
expenditure, these young fellows did not reckon up their every penny,
and, not wishing to be behindhand, Vinson had sent to his mother for
money again and again, and she had kept him in funds.
On this particular evening, after the concert, they had invited some
of the performers to supper in a private room, and Vinson, in the
course of the entertainment, was attracted, fascinated, by a tall girl
with dyed hair, emaciated cheeks, and brilliant eyes, whose flashy
manners smacking of some low suburb, had subjugated him completely.
Vinson made an impression on the singer, for she did not respond to
the advances of a swaggering sergeant, reputed generous, but turned
her attentions to the modest corporal.
They talked, and they discovered they were affinities. The result was
they found themselves at daybreak on the deserted boulevard of
Chalons. The corporal's leave did not expire till the evening of the
following day. Nichoune offered him hospitality: they became lovers.
Vinson's heart was in this liaison: he persuaded himself that the
chain that bound them was indissoluble. The singer's idea was to
profit by it. Her demands for money were constant: she harried her
lover for money.
Little by little, Vinson's mother cut off supplies: the corporal,
incapable of breaking with Nichoune, ran up debts in the town.
"But," went on Vinson, "this is only the beginning. I have told you
this, Monsieur, with the hope of excusing myself to a certain extent
for what I did later on. My actions were the outcome and consequences
of my difficulties."
"Something serious?" questioned Fandor.
"You shall judge of that, Monsieur."
Vinson went on with his confession in a firmer tone. Fandor realised
that the corporal had decided to make a clean breast of it.
"It sometimes happened after I had had a scene with Nichoune, and had
quitted her in a fury, that I would go for a long bicycle ride into
the country, taking my shame and rage with me. On a certain Saturday,
bestriding my faithful bike, I went for a spin along the dusty
high-road which runs past the camp. After going at high speed, I
dismounted, seated myself under a tree in the shade, by the side of a
ditch, and was falling asleep. It was summer, the sun was pouring
down. A cyclist stopped in front of me with a punctured tyre. He asked
me to lend him the wherewithal to repair it; and whilst the solution
was drying we started talking.
"This individual was about thirty; elegantly dressed; and from the way
he expressed himself, one could see that he was a man accustomed to
good society.
"He told me he was making a tour, and was now doing the neighbourhood
about Reims and Chalons.
"'Not very picturesque country,' I remarked.
"But he retorted;
"'It is interesting--the roads, for example, are complicated!'
"I began to laugh at this, and as he insisted on the difficulty he had
to find his way in these parts, I offered to let him look at my
Staff-office map. I carried a copy in my blazer.... Ah, Monsieur--how
well Alfred played his little comedy! That is what he called himself,
at least, that was the name he was known by--the only name I have ever
known. He seemed absolutely stupefied at the sight of this map,
ordinary though as it was, and seemed set on buying it from me. I did
not want to part with it. He offered five francs for it. I expressed
my astonishment that he would not wait till he got to Chalons, where
he could procure one like it for the sum of twenty sous.
"'Bah!' declared Alfred, 'It gives me pleasure to pay you that sum--it
is a way of thanking you for having lent me the use of your cycle
outfit.'
"My faith, Monsieur Fandor, I was too beggared to say 'No!' so I
accepted the money, while making excuses for myself: my plea being
that a soldier is not a rich man.
"I pass over details. It is sufficient to say that when we returned to
Chalons together, we were such good friends that he asked me to dine
with him. When he saw me back to barracks, Alfred pressed a loan on
me. I had told him about Nichoune, and about the pecuniary
difficulties I was in, for by this time, I had full confidence in him.
He slipped a twenty-franc piece into my hand with an air of authority:
'When you become a civilian again,' said he, 'you will easily be able
to pay me back; and besides, to salve your pride, I am going to ask
you shortly to do me a few services. I often have little things done.
I shall entrust the doing of them to you, and shall pay you
accordingly.'...
"You understand, Monsieur Fandor, that there was no reason for
refusing, that I could see, especially as he made the offer very
nicely, and that it came in the nick of time, at the very moment
when--I have to admit it--I would have done anything for money....
"After this we met frequently. Alfred used to send me invitations, and
often he included Nichoune. He never would let me pay for anything;
and, I must confess, that the greater part of the time I should have
found it very difficult indeed to pay a sou!
"We always met at some appointed place outside the town: he would not
stay in Chalons longer than he could help, because he said the air
there was bad for his delicate lungs. He was particularly interested
in aviation, and he was for ever getting me to pilot him about the
aviation camp.
"'You who draw so well,' he would say; 'make me a plan of this
apparatus!... Explain to me how these huts are constructed!'
"He would question me as to the effectives of the regiments, ask me
details as to estimates, statements, and returns which passed through
my hands in the offices.
"Finally, one day, as I had no inkling of what he was really aiming
at, Alfred put me on to it!"...
The corporal stopped. His throat was strained and dry.
Fandor brought him a glass of water, which he swallowed at a gulp.
With a grateful look he continued:
"'Vinson,' said Alfred to me, 'I have confidence in you, and you know
how discreet I am! Very well, I have a superb piece of business in
hand which ought to bring us in a great deal of money. A stranger with
whom I came into contact recently, who is a very good fellow, who has
been obliged to leave his country owing to troubles that were brought
on him, possesses a document, a very interesting one, which would be
much valued at the Staff Headquarters of the Sixth Corps. He needs
money and would be willing to sell it. I tried to buy it from him, but
I have not the necessary funds. I was seeking a solution of the
difficulty, when this stranger asked me to procure him some
photographs of the Chalons barracks, in exchange for which he would
give me his document. He needs these photographs for postcard
purposes. If we could supply him with them in three days, not only
will he give us his important paper, but he will pay twenty francs for
each proof as well!'
"Ah, Monsieur Fandor, this story did not hang together, but I was
actually weak enough to believe it! Or at least I tried to make
myself believe it. Besides, this proposal of Alfred's came just in
time: I had not a sou to my name! Nichoune was making a terrible row,
and I hardly dared venture into the streets, I had so many creditors.
"I tried to square matters with my conscience: telling myself that
there was nothing compromising connected with these photographs: in
fact, views of our barracks are to be found in any album on sale,
however small.
"Later on, I learned that this was a method _they_ employed to decoy
the guides, to draw them securely into their toils. _They_ first of
all give them very insignificant things to do, in order not to
frighten them, and pay a high price: it is afterwards that they fasten
you up tight. You shall see how."...
Fandor nodded. It was nearly time to catch the train, but he thought
no more of the Cote d'Azur! He was too interested in the corporal's
confession, and felt that by letting him speak he would learn more, he
would learn much. He therefore encouraged Vinson to continue. The
corporal asked nothing better.
"The photographs taken, I rejoined Alfred, who had told me to be sure
to get leave for forty-eight hours, whatever happened. Alfred dragged
me to the railway station; he had two tickets. We went off to Nancy,
where, said he, we should find the purchaser. At Nancy, no one;
whoever it was, had gone to a street in one of the suburbs. We waited
in a little flat. Towards four in the afternoon Alfred said to me:
'Bah! Don't let us hesitate any longer. If the stranger has not come,
it is because he is waiting for us elsewhere--I know where--let us go
to meet him--at Metz!"
"'At Metz!' I cried. 'But we should have to cross the frontier, and I
have not.'...
"Alfred interrupted me, laughing. He opened a press and brought out
civilian clothes, then he took wigs from a drawer, and a false beard.
At the end of half-an-hour we were disguised; an hour later we were in
Lorraine. We left the train there. It was there that, for the first
time, I began to be afraid, for it seemed to me that when leaving the
station at Metz, Alfred exchanged a quick glance with the policeman
on duty. Ah, Monsieur Fandor, how I have regretted this journey!
Directly we were in a foreign country, Alfred's attitude towards me
changed: he was no longer the friend, he was the master. He had got
me, the rogue, and jolly tight too!
"'Where are we going?' I asked.
"Alfred chuckled.
"'By jove! can't you guess?' he replied. 'Why, we are going to the
Wornerstrasse, to visit Major Schwartz of the Intelligence
Department.'
"'I shall not go!' I declared.
"Alfred's look was a menace.
"'You will come,' said he, in a low voice. 'Consider! If you refuse,
at the end of five minutes the police will have unmasked you!'...
"There was nothing else to be done. I knew this Intelligence
Department already, by reputation. Alfred had spoken to me about it.
It was a vast suite of rooms on the first floor of a middle-class
house, where a number of men in civilian clothes were at work. They
all bore the military stamp. We had to wait in a large room filled
with draughtsmen and typewriters, and on the wall hung a map, on a
huge scale, of the frontier of the Vosges.
"Alfred sent in his name.
"A few minutes afterwards we were ushered into an office. A big man,
seated behind a table heaped with bundles of papers, scrutinised us
over his spectacles: he was bald, and wore a thick square-cut fair
beard. He examined the photographs without a word, threw them
carelessly on a set of shelves, and took from his drawer ten louis in
French money, which he counted out to me. Of any document in exchange
there was, of course, no question! I thought everything was finished,
and I was preparing to leave this abominable place when the big man
put his hand on my arm. It was Major Schwartz himself, the chief of
the spy system there--I learned that later. He said to me in very
correct French, with hardly a trace of accent to betray his origin:
"'Corporal Vinson, we have paid you lavishly for information of no
value, but you will have to serve us better than that, and we shall
continue to treat you well.'
"I thought I should have fainted when I heard my name pronounced by
this man. It was clear he already knew my rank and name.... He knew
much more than that--as the conversation which followed let me see. He
informed me that he wished to obtain a complete statement of the
organisation of the dirigibles and aeroplanes; he must have the
characteristics of all the apparatus; a list of the Flying Service
Corps: he exacted even more confidential information still--where the
aviators and the aircraft were to be moved if mobilisation took
place--the whole bag of tricks, in fact!"
"And," asked Fandor, hesitating a little, "you have ... supplied him
with all this?"
In a voice so low as to be barely audible, and blushing to the roots
of his hair, Vinson confessed:
"I supplied it all!"
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Not yet, Monsieur--listen:
"Alfred had gone back with me as far as Nancy, where I had put on my
uniform again; then I returned to Chalons quite by myself.
"I asked myself if it would be possible to get clear away from the
terrible set I was mixed up with. Try as I might, I could not manage
it. Every day Alfred harried me, threatened me: I had to obey him.
Then almost on the top of this came the affair of Captain Brocq."
Fandor had been waiting for this. He had foreseen that he was going to
learn what the connecting link was, which united the adventures of
Corporal Vinson with the drama of the Place de l'Etoile, but his
expectations were not fulfilled.... True enough, Vinson, through the
mysterious intervention of his redoubtful friends, was to enter into
relations with Captain Brocq, to whom he had been recommended, how or
in what terms he did not know.
The business hung fire for several weeks, and this was owing to Vinson
himself, whose moods alternated from one of shrinking disgust to one
of bravado courage.
"At times," said he, "I wished to break with them at any cost, and
become honest once more; but, alas, I was always under the evil
influence of Nichoune, who was a very close friend of Alfred, and the
pair of them encouraged me to tread the traitor's path without
faltering. Then, without breathing a word, I put in a request through
the proper channel for a change of garrison. I hoped to get sent
either to the West or the South; above all, I was bent on leaving the
Sixth Corps, on flying from the frontier neighbourhood, and finishing
my service in some district or region where it would be impossible for
them to make me their spy tool. But, I do not know how--was it through
Nichoune?--I expect so, because I had unluckily confided this secret
to her one evening--Alfred got wind of what I was up to. He flew into
a fearful rage. Suddenly he quieted down, and began to laugh.
"'Ah, my boy, I am going to play a good joke on you!'
"It was a terrible joke--it is that still, Monsieur! Listen to what
happened! I got my exchange all right: it is on that account I have
eight days' leave; but next Monday, November 21st, before midday, I
must report to my new regiment. But this regiment, the 257th Infantry,
is in garrison at Verdun!... You grasp it?"
"I begin to," murmured Fandor.
"At Verdun," continued Vinson, who had risen, and was walking to and
fro, pressing his head between his hands, a prey to an indescribable
anguish.... "At Verdun! That is to say at the frontier itself! That
means I shall be in the thick of all that lot--at their mercy!... Oh,
the trick had been well thought out, carefully contrived! I have got
away from the wasp's nest only to tumble into the middle of the swarm!
Oh, Monsieur, I am losing my head absolutely! I feel that they have me
tight, that it is impossible to get free of them and, what is more, I
am afraid of being taken up ... yes. These last few days at Chalons I
have been terrified: I believe that they suspect me, that they suspect
Nichoune, that my superiors have me under supervision! Directly after
the announcement of Captain Brocq's assassination appeared in the
papers, all this descended on me as swiftly as a tempest. Oh, I am
lost! Lost!!... I wished to come and make an open confession of all my
shame to you that, by means of an article in your paper, you may put
young soldiers on their guard, those who, owing to a mad infatuation
for some abominable women, or through need of money, should be
disposed to follow my wretched example some cursed day or other--yes,
my damnable example!"
The corporal fell down in the middle of the room, fell down like a
crumpled rag: he sobbed.
Fandor pitied this miserable creature who had sunk so low. He raised
him gently.
"Vinson," he declared, "you must not die. Remember you have a mother!
Listen! Be brave! Summon your courage! Tell your chiefs
everything--everything!"
The wretched man shook his head.
"Never! Never, Monsieur--I could not do it. Think, Monsieur: it is the
vilest of vile things I have done--I, a soldier of France--of France,
Monsieur!... You spoke of my mother! It is because of her I wish to
kill myself! You must know that she is an Alsatian!... She would go
mad--mad, Monsieur, if she learned that her son has betrayed
France!... This evening Corporal Vinson will no longer exist--it will
be well finished with him!"
There was a great silence.
Fandor, with his arms folded and anxious brow, was pacing up and down
his study, seeking a solution of this frightful problem, asking
himself what was to be done.... He saw that this miserable Vinson was
caught in the wheels of a terrible machine, from which it was almost
impossible to snatch him into safety. Nevertheless, his conscience
revolted at the idea that he should do nothing to avert this wretched
lad's suicide. He must stop Vinson--he must certainly save him from
himself at any price, save him doubly!
Then Fandor saw further than this.
He perceived that good may come out of evil: perhaps through Vinson
and his relations with this nefarious nest of spies, they would
succeed in clearing up the dark mystery surrounding the death of
Captain Brocq. Evidently all these happenings were interconnected!...
With his mind's eye, Fandor saw this foreign spy system under the form
of an immense--a vast spider's web. Could one but lay hands on the
originator of the initial thread, or the master-spider himself, then
they could strike at the extreme ends of this evil tissue.
* * * * *
Fandor admonished Vinson for a long time. Our journalist was now
eloquent, now persuasive: he heaped argument on argument, he appealed
to his self-respect, to duty! When at last he saw that the young
corporal hesitated, that a faint gleam of hope appeared, that a vague
desire for rehabilitation was born in him, he stopped short and
demanded abruptly:
"Vinson, are you still bent on killing yourself?"
The corporal communed with himself a moment, closed his eyes, and,
without a touch of insincerity, replied in a steady voice:
"Yes, I have decided to do it."
"In that case," said Fandor, "will you look on the deed as done, and
take it that you are no longer in existence?"
The corporal stared at Fandor, speechless, absolutely dumbfounded.
Fandor made his idea more definite.
"From this moment you do not exist any more, you are nothing, you are
no longer Corporal Vinson."...
"And then?"...
But Fandor must have a definite promise.
"Is this agreed to?"...
"I agree."
"Swear it!"
"I swear it!"
"Very well, Vinson, you now belong to me, you are my property, my
chattel; I am going to give you my instructions, and they must be
strictly obeyed, carried out!"
The miserable soldier seemed crushed to the earth; but with a movement
of his head he signified that he was prepared to do whatever the
journalist ordered.
VII
THE SECOND BUREAU
As early as nine o'clock that morning, there was unusual activity in
the Second Bureau of the Headquarters Staff.
The Second Bureau!
This formidable office, whose official designation, _Bureau of
Statistics_, did not deceive anyone, occupied premises in the Ministry
of War. Modest as to appearance, this Bureau was located on the third
floor of one of the oldest buildings in the rue Saint Dominique. The
departments of the Second Bureau impinged on a long corridor, and had
taken possession of quite half the floor in the right wing of the
building.