AT THE CAFE DES VOYAGEURS
M. Delcasse was scarcely out of bed, next morning, when Lepine's card
was brought in to him. He smiled as he read the line scrawled across it:
"My report awaits Monsieur."
"Show M. Lepine into the breakfast-room," said the Minister, "and inform
him that I shall be down at once. Also inquire if he has breakfasted. If
not, see that he is served."
He hastened on with his toilet, and, five minutes later, joined Lepine,
whom he found at his favourite amusement of standing at a window and
gazing into the street--an amusement which occupied every idle moment,
sometimes with the most astonishing results. Chance plays a larger part
in life than most people are willing to admit; Lepine believed in it;
went half-way to meet it--and, more than once, had seen drifting past
him along the pavement the face for which his best men had been
searching vainly.
Lepine, it appeared, had already breakfasted, and, while the Minister
ate, told of the interrogation at the Hotel du Nord. He had sent one of
his men to Nice, with the receipts for the bags, and if, as seemed
probable, they were still uncalled for, they would be examined at once.
"Though, even if they are still there," Lepine added, "we shall probably
discover nothing of moment. One does not place anything of value in a
bag and then abandon it. But I have another clue of the first
importance," and he produced the hundred-franc note. "Here is the note
given to Brisson by one of the strangers. You perceive that it is quite
new. I suggest that you send the number of this note to the Bank of
France, ascertain when and to whom it was issued, and if any other notes
of the series were issued at the same time."
"I will do so," said M. Delcasse, and made a note of the number. "I
agree with you that this is most important."
"One thing more," went on Lepine, replacing the note in his pocket-book
and extracting a slip of paper; "a small thing, but of significance. I
have here the police blanks which the two men filled out upon arriving
at the Hotel du Nord. Their names, you see, are given as George Arnold
and William Smith, their home as New York City, United States of
America. If you will notice the 'S' of the word 'Smith,' you will see
that it is made in the German manner."
"That is true; but it may mean nothing. There are many Germans who are
citizens of the United States."
"Yes; but the German name is Schmidt, not Smith. I conclude that this
man is a German, but was trying to conceal it."
"You may be right," Delcasse assented, with a trace of impatience in his
manner; "no doubt you _are_ right. Is there anything more?"
"There is one thing," said Lepine, colouring a little, "which I have
kept until the last, because it seems to upset M. Crochard's theory."
"What is that?"
Lepine drew two sheets of yellow tissue-paper from his pocket-book.
"An hour after our men left the Hotel du Nord," he said, "a telegram
arrived, addressed to this William Smith. Here it is," and he spread out
one of the sheets on the desk before the Minister.
Delcasse bent forward eagerly and read:
"_William Smith, Hotel du Nord, Toulon, France._
"Our mother requests that you abandon trip, cancel all
arrangements, and return at once.
"ALFRED."
"Well?" and Delcasse looked up at his companion.
"That would seem to show, sir," said Lepine, "that William Smith was
only an ordinary traveller, after all. You will see that it was filed
at Brussels at noon of Sunday, the twenty-fourth. It was delayed in
transmission, and for some reason was not received at Toulon until nine
o'clock in the evening. Messages here are not delivered on Sunday
evening after eight o'clock, and this was held until seven the next
morning. At that hour, William Smith was no longer at the hotel."
"Well?" asked Delcasse a second time.
"Well," Lepine continued, "at ten minutes past six on Monday morning,
this message was filed at the office here," and he spread out the second
sheet of tissue.
Again Delcasse bent forward, and read:
"_Alfred Smith, Restante, Brussels._
"We continue our trip as planned. All well. Next address
Nice.
"WILLIAM."
"You will see," Lepine went on, "that these messages are such as an
ordinary tourist would send and receive."
But Delcasse was not listening. He was reading the messages a second
time and yet a third, and there was a wrinkle of perplexity between his
brows. At last he looked up, and the Prefect was astonished at the
expression of his face.
"There is one thing I forgot to tell you last night, Lepine," he said.
"I did not myself see its significance until I had got to bed. The first
telegram received from any foreign power in reference to the disaster
was from the German Emperor."
Lepine smiled.
"The German Emperor was the first to get word of it," he said. "I
examined the other telegrams filed Monday morning. At ten minutes to
seven, the German consul here notified the Minister of State at Berlin
of the explosion. Admiral Bellue did not file his message to you until
forty minutes later. No doubt he wished to assure himself of the extent
of the disaster, in order not to alarm you needlessly. You should have
received it not later than eight o'clock."
"It was, in fact, a few minutes before that hour. And when I reached the
Elysee Palace, I found the President with a message from the Kaiser in
his hand. It struck me as most peculiar."
"It was ironic, certainly," agreed Lepine, "but, under the
circumstances, easily explained."
"You think, then--"
"I think that Crochard has assumed too much; I think that, before we
accuse these men, we need more proof."
Delcasse pushed back his chair and paced for some moments nervously
about the room. At last he sat down again, and rolled and lighted a
cigarette.
"You are right," he said; "we need more proof. It is for you to find it,
if it exists. And at this moment, I am interested not so much in the
movements of these men, as in the cause of the explosion. Even supposing
that they had a hand in it, how was it accomplished?"
Lepine returned the telegrams to his pocket.
"I agree with you," he said, "that that is the vital question. And I am
unable to answer it."
"I shall institute a Board of Inquiry at once," went on the Minister; "I
have, in fact, already summoned the officers who will compose it. I will
arrange for it to visit the wreck and begin to take evidence to-day, as
it is important that the evidence be secured while the event is still
fresh. I would suggest that you place some of your men at the
disposition of the Board."
"Very well, sir," Lepine agreed, and withdrew.
Toulon was awake again, and the streets were thronged as on a fete day.
The first shock of the disaster had passed, and the inborn cheerfulness
of the people was asserting itself. The excuse for a holiday was not to
be overlooked, and every one who could take a day, or even an hour of
leisure, did so, and spent it partly on the quays staring at the wreck,
partly in the Place de la Liberte listening to the orators, partly in
the Place d'Armes watching the men at work draping with black the
Maritime Prefecture, where the Board of Inquiry was to sit, and the
church of Saint Louis, where requiem High Mass was to be celebrated.
Finally as much as remained of the holiday was spent at a cafe before a
glass of coffee or aperitif, with the satisfaction of a sacred duty
conscientiously performed.
Lepine, as he made his way through the crowd, noticed that there was no
longer any talk of treachery or treason,--even the word "sabotage" was
no longer uttered. Every one agreed that the affair was another
accident, deplorable indeed, but unavoidable and without dishonour, and
so not to be taken too deeply to heart. France could build other
battleships! The mercury in the national temperament was asserting
itself.
For an hour Lepine walked about with thoughtful face, listening to the
talk, watching the crowd, joining a group here and there, catching
chance words from passers-by. He had had only three hours' sleep, but he
showed no trace of fatigue. Certainly nothing was farther from his
thoughts at this moment than that he needed rest.
He made his way at last to the Quai de Cronstadt and joined the crowd
which was staring at the wreck. A barge had been moored alongside, and a
heavy crane was lifting the detached debris into it and clearing the way
for the searching parties. On the quay opposite the wreck, at Number
Ten, was a cafe, the Cafe des Voyageurs as its sign announced, and to
this Lepine presently crossed, sat down at a table and ordered a bock.
The cafe was crowded, for its situation could not have been more
fortunate; a steady stream of money had poured into the pockets of its
proprietor ever since the disaster. The shattered windows were in
themselves an advertisement, and no effort had as yet been made to
replace them. Lepine looked about the place with interest. It was not
large, but it had a certain air of prosperity bespeaking a good
patronage, even at ordinary times. At the Prefecture, Lepine had made
some discreet inquiries concerning its proprietor, who, he was told, had
the reputation of being an honest fellow and had never been in trouble
with the police. Nevertheless, as a friend of Crochard's, Lepine would
have welcomed a look at him; but the place at the moment was apparently
in charge of the head-waiter. It was the head-waiter himself who
responded when Lepine rapped for the "addition," and, as he paid it,
slipped a note into his hand. Lepine opened it, under cover of his hat,
and found that it contained a single line:
"Monsieur C. will welcome a conference with Monsieur L."
Without a word, Lepine arose and followed the man, who crossed the room,
opened a door at the farther end of it, stood aside for him to pass, and
then gently closed it. Lepine found himself in a little room with a
single window opening upon a court. It was furnished with a table and
three chairs, and at the table sat Crochard. He motioned Lepine to a
seat.
"I was expecting you," he said, with a little smile; "and I am glad you
came. In the presence of that good Pigot, one cannot talk freely.
Indeed, it was with the greatest difficulty that I maintained a sober
countenance. He was so astonished, so overwhelmed, that you and I should
be working together--that we should be able to sit in the same room
without flying at each other's throats. If he only knew--"
"Is it necessary to go into that?" asked Lepine.
"Why not? You have no reason to be ashamed of it. If you have sought my
aid from time to time, it was because you realised that Crochard the
Invincible has sources of information which are closed to the police."
"I said as much to M. Delcasse. It was not of myself I was thinking, but
of you. What if your friends knew?"
"My friends? I have never betrayed my friends, as you know well. Surely,
Lepine, you have understood that, if I assisted you, it was only because
it suited me to do so!"
"Yes, I have understood that," assented Lepine, flushing a little at
the other's tone. "You always had a bargain to propose. What is the
bargain, this time?"
"There is no bargain," retorted Crochard, curtly. "I ask nothing."
Lepine cast at him an astonished glance.
"What!" cried Crochard, his face suddenly red, "you cannot believe the
truth, then? It seems incredible to you that I should love my country?
Well, I _do_ love her, and I am going to prove it by saving her!"
"Is she in need of saving?" queried Lepine, ironically.
Crochard's eyes gleamed; then, in a moment, his anger passed.
"Delcasse believes so; Lepine does not: behold the difference between a
great man and a clever one," he said, and looked at Lepine with pity in
his eyes.
"Well, yes," said the Prefect; "I admit it; I make no claim to
greatness. I perceive no danger--nor, for the matter of that, does M.
Delcasse."
Crochard looked at him for a moment.
"Let me see the registration slip from the Prefecture," he said, at
last.
Without a word, Lepine got out his pocket-book, produced the slip, and
handed it to his companion.
Crochard studied it closely.
"You have, of course, remarked the German 'S,'" he said, at last "I
thought so. Now the telegram which arrived too late."
Lepine passed it over obediently.
Crochard read it and re-read it, a strange light in his eyes.
"And now the other one," he said, finally.
Lepine stared at him.
"How do you know there is another one?" he demanded.
"Of course there is another one!" retorted Crochard, impatiently. "Any
fool would know that!"
Still staring, Lepine handed him the second sheet of tissue.
Crochard took one glance at it; then he looked at his companion.
"Do you mean to say, Lepine," he asked, "that, in the face of these
telegrams, you remain unconvinced--that you do not see the danger?"
"I see no danger," repeated the Prefect, doggedly.
"And yet I tell you, Lepine," said Crochard, leaning forward across the
table and speaking in deadliest earnest, "that the danger is desperate.
You are blind to it, a thing which astonishes me; M. Delcasse can do
nothing--his hands are tied by the red tape of his position. There
remains only Crochard! If I sit idle, if I fold my hands, within a
month Germany will declare war and will sweep over France like a
pestilence. Yesterday she struck the first blow; I tremble to think what
the second may be!"
"But war!" protested Lepine. "Nonsense! For war there must be a cause."
"A pretext will do--and a pretext can always be found. Already Germany
is preparing her pretext: she has demanded equal rights with France in
Morocco--a preposterous demand, and one which France can never grant.
What cares Germany about Morocco? Nothing! But the pretext must be
ready. And now, Lepine," he added, pushing back the papers, and speaking
in another tone, "I will tell you why I have come to you: I should
prefer to work alone; but, in the first place, it was necessary to
provide a means of access to M. Delcasse; in the second place, you got
these papers, where I might have failed; in the third place, there are
certain questions to which you can get an answer more easily than I."
"What are the questions?" asked Lepine, moved, in spite of himself, by
Crochard's manner.
"There are two to which I would ask you to get answers at once. The
first: does the government maintain, or has it authorised, any wireless
stations in the town or in the neighbourhood? The second: have the
wireless operators on any of the battleships noticed any unusual
interference during the past few days? How long will it take you to
secure answers to those questions--authoritative answers?"
"An hour."
Crochard glanced at his watch.
"It is now ten o'clock. At eleven, you will arrange for a conference
with M. Delcasse. There must be no one present but we three."
"M. Crochard," said Lepine, drily, "I do not like your imperatives. I am
not accustomed to them."
"M. Lepine," Crochard retorted, "my way of speaking is my own, and I am
too old to change. In this affair, it is you who work with me, not I
with you. Shall we go on, or shall we stop here?"
Lepine trembled with a severe inward struggle. Crochard impressed and
fascinated him; but his terms were humiliating.
Crochard met his gaze, read what was behind it, and leaned forward again
across the table.
"Lepine," he said, "have I ever failed to do a thing I promised?"
"No."
"I shall not fail this time."
"What is it you promise?"
"I promise," said Crochard, and raised his right hand solemnly, as
though registering an oath, "I promise to find the man who destroyed
_La Liberte_, and to save my country!"
Lepine gazed at him for a moment, then pushed back his chair and rose to
his feet. The patriot in him had triumphed.
"Where shall the conference with M. Delcasse take place?" he asked.
Crochard smiled at the question and at the little man's impassive face.
"Lepine," he said, "on my word, you touch greatness sometimes, and I
find myself admiring you! Let the conference take place at M. Delcasse's
apartment. Oh, yes; you will have a closed carriage waiting at the
private entrance."
"At eleven o'clock," agreed Lepine.
"At eleven o'clock," repeated Crochard, and waved his adieu. Then, as
the door closed behind that erect little figure, he sank back into his
seat with a chuckle and touched a bell.
An inner door, concealed so cleverly in the wall that even Lepine's
sharp eyes had not perceived it, opened and a man looked in.
"He has gone," Crochard said. "Bring some wine, Samson, and two
glasses."
The door closed, but opened again in a moment to admit the man, with
bottle and glasses. He placed them on the table, went back to make sure
that the door was closed, and then sat down opposite Crochard. Why he
should be called Samson, unless in derision, was hard to understand, for
he was a mere skeleton of a man, with a face like parchment. But the
brow was high and the eyes bright and the mouth as tender as a woman's.
Crochard glanced at the label on the cobwebbed bottle, and nodded as he
filled his glass.
"You are good to your friends, Samson," he said. "Your health!"
"Yours!" said Samson, and drained his glass. "Everything I have is
yours, my master; you know that!"
"Even your life?"
"You have only to ask it."
Crochard looked at him with smiling eyes.
"I believe you, my friend," he said. "Some day I may have to ask it--but
not yet. Did you see the man who just left me?"
"It was M. Lepine," said Samson, quietly.
"Did he see you?"
"No; but if he had, it would make no difference. He would not know me
now."
"Perhaps not," Crochard agreed, and glanced at the other's wasted face.
"And yet he has sharp eyes and a wonderful memory."
"I will keep out of his way," said Samson.
"At worst, it is only a question of another rescue; but avoid him, if
you can. You have a good station here, the business pays; you can lead
a quiet life--and, from time to time, be of use to me."
"The last is the most important," said Samson, and filled his glass
again.
"Have you learned anything more of the white-haired man?"
"No; but I _will_ know more before evening."
"I wish especially to find his lodging. If he is no longer there, I must
know when he departed and where he went."
"All that you shall know; I will see to it."
"No detail is too unimportant."
"I shall remember."
"And perhaps," added Crochard, "if things go well--for this is an affair
of great importance, where for once I am working on the side of the
law--I shall be able to secure for you that for which you have
longed--pardon from the State, rehabilitation, so that you can resume
your own name and live again openly with your family. That is worth
working for, is it not?"
"Ah!" cried Samson, his voice quivering with emotion. "If you could do
that! But it is impossible!"
"It is _not_ impossible!" said Crochard, and struck the table with his
open hand. "I promise it!"
Samson stared at him, his lips working, and two large tears formed
slowly in the corners of his eyes, brimmed over and ran down his
cheeks. If Crochard said "I promise it!" the thing was as good as done.
Suddenly he sat upright and brushed the tears away.
"What is it I must do?" he asked. "Tell me!"
And Crochard, drawing his chair closer, began his rapid instructions.