THE HUT IN THE GROVE
General Marbeau bent with the interest of an expert above the rude table
on which the apparatus was installed, and examined it for some moments
in silence. Then he straightened up and glanced at Delcasse.
"Well?" asked the latter.
"It is, indeed, a wireless installation, sir," said Marbeau, "or, at
least, part of one. Most of the instruments of transmission are here,
but there are no recording instruments. In other words, wireless
messages might be sent from here, but none could be received--unless
this is a recorder of some sort," and he pointed to a small instrument
of clock-like appearance which stood on the table.
"No," said Crochard; "that is not a recorder--that is the sender."
"The sender?" repeated Marbeau.
"Yes. You have noticed there is no key?"
"Yes, and I do not understand its absence."
"This device takes the place of it--it was by means of this that the
spaced signals were sent. Listen."
He bent above the clock, and the others heard a sound as of a strong
spring being wound. Then he stood erect: there were two sharp ticks;
then a long white snap of electricity; two ticks and another snap; two
ticks and another snap....
"Yes, that is the signal!" cried Marbeau, and bent again above the
mechanism. In a moment he understood.
Before the clock-face was a single long hand, a second-hand, terminating
in a thin, spring-like strip of platinum. The circumference of the face
was divided into sixty spaces, and at every third space was a slender
copper pin, which the end of the second-hand touched in passing. Two
wires, one connected with the second-hand, the other presumably with the
copper pins, ran from the clock down to the heavy batteries on the
floor. Every three seconds the circuit was automatically closed, and a
long flash sent along the conducting wire out into the air. Marbeau
stood listening for a moment longer, then loosened one of the wires. The
signals stopped.
"Now let us see the aerial," he said, and led the way outside.
But there was no aerial in sight. Then Crochard's finger pointed out a
series of wires among the trees to the left of the hut. Walking directly
beneath them, Marbeau saw that there were three wires parallel with each
other, and that they were stretched between two trees about fifty feet
apart. From each of them dropped a lead-wire, and these were gathered
together into the single wire which led into the hut. An arm of wood had
been secured to each of the trees, and to these the wires were fastened
by means of porcelain insulators.
"But such an aerial would not be effective!" Marbeau protested. "It
would be muffled and deadened by the leaves and branches all about it."
"There are no branches in front of it," said Crochard. "If you will
look, you will see that they have been very carefully cleared away in
that single direction. As I understand wireless, the waves released from
those wires up yonder permeate the atmosphere in every direction."
"That is true."
"With equal intensity?"
"No; they would be most intense in the direction in which the wires
extend."
"Ah!" said Crochard. "And, as we may perceive from the way in which the
trees are trimmed, it was only in that direction that the builder of
this affair desired them to penetrate. Can you not guess what that
direction is? If you will climb this tree and look along the wires, you
will find that they point directly toward the wreck of _La Liberte_."
For a moment, the three stared at Crochard without speaking, then
Marbeau threw off his coat and started up the tree. It was not an easy
climb, but he was an agile man, and at last he reached the arm to which
the wires were affixed. He remained for some moments looking out along
them; then he slowly descended.
"It is true," he said, in a low voice, as he resumed his coat. "The
wires could hardly have been so placed by accident."
"It was not by accident," said Crochard.
"And yet," went on Marbeau, "I do not see what all this can have to do
with the disaster."
"Nor I," agreed M. Delcasse. "And yet as M. Cro----as our friend here
says, all this was not done by accident."
"I would suggest," said Crochard, "that we return to M. Delcasse's
apartment. We can talk there without fear of being overheard--a thing
that is not possible among all these trees."
Marbeau took a last look at the wireless apparatus; then Crochard locked
the door of the hut, and gave the key to the Minister.
"Where did you get this key, my friend?" asked Delcasse, looking at it
curiously.
"About that there is no mystery," smiled Crochard. "I purchased it,
together with that lock yonder, this morning. I found it necessary to
break the original lock before I could enter the hut. It may be well to
station a guard here," he added, "until you are ready to dismantle the
place."
Delcasse nodded, and slipped the key into his pocket; and together they
made their way to the waiting carriage.
The trip back was a silent one. Delcasse and Lepine, their brains aching
with the effort, were trying to understand; Marbeau, convinced that the
explosion could not have been caused by wireless, was marshaling his
reasons; and Crochard--Crochard sat with placid countenance gazing
straight ahead of him--but that placid countenance masked supreme
intellectual effort.
At last the carriage stopped.
"You will wait here," said Delcasse to the driver, and, as soon as he
reached his office, summoned his secretary and directed that a guard of
four marines be sent by the carriage to the hut in the grove. Then he
sat down, rolled a cigarette, and passed tobacco and paper to his
companions. "And now," he said, looking at Crochard, "let us hear what
you have to tell us."
"There is not much to tell, sir," answered Crochard. "I learned of the
existence of this hut yesterday evening. Some children, searching for
mushrooms for a friend of mine, who is a restaurateur, happened to see
the wires among the trees, and told him of their discovery. He thought
it so curious that he at once sent word to me."
"And you, of course, sent word back that he was to tell no one else,"
said Delcasse, with a smile.
"Yes, I thought that best. I paid a visit to the hut as soon as it was
light this morning, entered it, examined it, and convinced myself that
it was really a wireless station. Then I made certain inquiries. The
grove, it appears, is owned by a gentleman of Marseilles, and was once
much larger than it is now. The hut was built for the use of
charcoal-burners, but has not been occupied for more than two years. I
would suggest that the police ascertain whether the owner was aware he
had a tenant."
"We will do so," said Delcasse. "But who was this tenant?"
"There is some doubt on that point," answered Crochard slowly. "That
little road is used but seldom, for a better one now leads around the
base of the hill; and few people ever have occasion to enter the grove.
It was, of course, for this very reason that the hut was chosen for this
installation. I have found no one who saw any man at work there. On the
other hand, a friend of mine, who has a cabaret on the main road just
outside the city gate, has seen pass a number of times within the past
week a man who, from his face and dress, was evidently not a Frenchman,
and whose actions appeared to my friend to be suspicious."
Delcasse smiled.
"You seem to have many friends," he remarked; "and unusually observant
ones."
"Yes," agreed Crochard; "I am fortunate in my friends; and they find it
greatly to their interest to keep their eyes open."
"Did you secure a description of this stranger?"
"Yes; but there should have been much more than a mere description. Some
of my friends are more intelligent than others. Still, it may be of
service. This stranger was a small man, slightly built, with grey hair
and bright, dark eyes. His complexion was also rather dark, and my
friend hazarded the guess that he was a Spaniard. He was dressed in dark
clothes, cut after a fashion not French, and wore a soft, dark hat."
"But that is a splendid description!" cried Delcasse. "What more did you
want?"
"Ah, sir," replied Crochard, "if it had been some of my friends, they
would have managed to meet this man; they would have engaged him in
conversation, have discovered his business and place of abode; instead
of which, this friend in question merely sits at the door of his cabaret
and watches the man pass! He was not doing his duty--but he will not
make such a mistake again!"
"His duty?" echoed Delcasse. "His duty to whom?"
"His duty to me," replied Crochard.
"But I do not understand," said the Minister, more and more amazed. "Why
should your friends have any such duty to you?"
Crochard hesitated. Lepine's face was fairly saturnine.
"I cannot explain that to you now, sir," said Crochard, finally. "I can
only say that it is part of a system which has existed for a very long
time, and of which I now happen to be the head."
Delcasse pondered this for a moment, his eyes on Crochard's face. Then
he turned to Lepine.
"You must learn more of this stranger, Lepine," he said. "You, also, are
at the head of a system--and a very expensive one."
"Yes, and a good one, sir," said Lepine, quickly. "One which is worth
all it costs. But men will not work for money as they do for
self-interest; and then, my system is a mere infant beside that of our
friend here, which must be at least two hundred years old."
"Oh, much more than that!" said Crochard, quickly, and smiled at
Delcasse's astounded face. "Please understand," he added, "that I do not
assert that this is the man we want. There is as yet no absolute proof,
though I hope soon to have it. But there is one significant fact: when
going from the city he frequently carried a heavy bundle, but never when
returning."
"That is indeed significant," agreed Delcasse. "But it indicates another
thing which astonishes me. If he did all this alone, it was because he
had no one to assist him. But if he had no accomplice, who were the two
men who watched the destruction of _La Liberte_? And, above all, who is
this man who plans, alone and unaided, the destruction of our navy? What
is his purpose? Whence did he come? Whither has he gone? Is he a
madman--an anarchist?" Delcasse ran his fingers through his hair with a
despairing gesture. "He astounds me!" he added. "My brain falters at
thought of such a man!"
But Marbeau, to whom much of this talk had been incomprehensible, began
at last to understand, and shook his head in violent protest.
"Whoever the man may have been," he broke out, "or whatever his
business, it could have had nothing to do with the destruction of _La
Liberte_."
Delcasse wheeled upon him.
"Why do you say that?" he demanded.
"Because, sir, it is absurd to suppose that the magazines of the ship
could be exploded by wireless. Wireless has no such power. And, in this
instance, it is quite easy to prove that they were _not_ so exploded."
"Prove it, then," said the Minister, impatiently.
"In the first place, the signals, which we now know came from that hut
up yonder, were first noted on Saturday. They continued for half an
hour, and yet no explosion occurred. In the second place, we caused them
to be repeated to-day, and again there was no explosion."
"_La Liberte_ was no longer there to explode," Delcasse objected grimly.
"True; but there were other ships near by--_La Patrie_, _La Republique_,
_La Verite_. These ships and others were also there at the time of the
explosion, yet they were not affected, although all of them had
precisely the same sort of powder in their magazines that _La Liberte_
had in hers."
"But you have already said that the waves could be intensified in a
certain direction," Delcasse pointed out.
"So they can; but they cannot be confined to a channel nor directed at a
mark, as a bullet is. The hut in the grove is fully three miles away
from the harbour, and I assert that every ship in the harbour felt the
waves with the same intensity as _La Liberte_."
"And what is your deduction from all this?" inquired Delcasse.
"My deduction is that those signals did not and could not cause the
explosion."
"Then what was their purpose? How do you explain them?"
Marbeau made a gesture of helplessness.
"I do not know what their purpose was; I cannot explain them," he said;
"but I am confident that they could not have destroyed _La Liberte_."
"I agree with General Marbeau," said Crochard suddenly.
They all stared at him, astonished that he should admit himself
defeated.
"But I would add one word to his deduction," he added. "The word
'alone.'"
"'Alone'?" echoed Delcasse.
"I would make the statement thus: 'Those signals _alone_ did not and
could not cause the explosion.'"
Delcasse looked at him with puzzled eyes, and again ran his fingers
impatiently through his hair.
"I do not understand," he said. "You are getting beyond me. What is your
theory, then?"
The line in Crochard's brow deepened.
"It is a thing, sir," he answered slowly, "which I find difficult to
express in words. There is, at the back of my mind, an idea, vague,
misty, of which as yet I catch only the dim outlines. My process of
reasoning is this: it is certain, as General Marbeau says, that the
signals from the hut were, in themselves, harmless, or there would have
been other explosions than that on board _La Liberte_. Wireless waves
can be directed and concentrated only to a very limited extent. They can
be made a little stronger in one general direction than in others, that
is all. And, in this case, that general direction would have embraced
all the ships at anchor in the harbour.
"There must, then, have been some other force which, at the appointed
time, struck from this stream of signals a spark, so to speak, into the
magazines of _La Liberte_, one after the other. That there was an
appointed time we cannot doubt--we know that it was the moment of
sunrise yesterday. That the magazines were fired one at a time, and at
spaced intervals we also know. That they could not explode of themselves
in that way seems certain.
"You will remember that the signals began more than an hour before
sunrise, and continued for at least half an hour afterwards. We know
that the signals were sent automatically. Why? Partly, no doubt, because
it was necessary that they be absolutely regular; but also because the
man who did this thing--who is himself, perhaps, the inventor of the
method--chose to make no confidants, to have no accomplices, and he
could not himself be in the hut to send the signals. Again you ask why.
Not because of danger of discovery, since there was no such danger. I
believe it was because it was necessary that he be somewhere else,
directing from an angle, perhaps, that other force, so mysterious and so
deadly. I seem to see two forces, travelling in converging lines, as two
bullets might travel, their point of meeting the magazines of _La
Liberte_. At the instant of their meeting, there is a shock, a spark--as
though flint and steel met--and the magazine explodes--first the forward
magazine, then the after magazine, then the main magazine--one, two,
three! This is all mere guesswork, you understand, sir," Crochard added,
in another tone, "but so I see it. And, after all, it is susceptible of
proof."
"What proof?" demanded Delcasse.
"If my theory is the true one," Crochard explained, "there must have
been, somewhere, another installation to create the intercepting force,
which, of course, must also be transmitted by ether waves, as wireless
is, if it is to penetrate wood and steel. It must have been within an
hour's walk--probably half an hour's walk--of the hut in the grove. For
remember, the mechanism there was set going an hour before sunrise, and
the man had then to reach his other mechanism, and have it ready to
start at sunrise. It is for us to discover the place where this second
mechanism was installed--and where it probably still remains."
"Yes, that would be proof," agreed Delcasse thoughtfully; "and for
myself, I will say that I believe your theory the right one. But you
have not yet explained the part played by the two watchers on the quay."
"Their part was that of watchers merely," said Crochard. "They were sent
there to observe and to report to their master--as they did."
"As they did?"
"Surely it is evident," Crochard explained, "that, if our theory is
true, they would hasten to report. Imagine their master's anxiety until
he heard from them! As a matter of fact, their report was filed within
fifteen minutes after the explosion. M. Lepine has it in his pocket."
Delcasse stared, uncomprehending; but Lepine, his face suddenly
illumined, snatched out his pocket-book and produced the sheets of
yellow tissue.
"Ah, yes, certainly!" he cried. "I was blind not to see it! The report
was in a form agreed upon: 'We continue our trip as planned. All well.'
You will understand now, sir," he added, to Delcasse, "the reason for
the high opinion I entertain of this gentleman!"
"But that message was sent to Brussels," objected the Minister.
"It was sent 'restante.' A man was waiting at the post-office to receive
it and forward it instantly to Berlin."
Delcasse's face was a study, as he turned this over in his mind.
"What is your reading of the other message?" he asked, at last.
"My reading," answered Crochard, slowly, "is that, at the last moment,
the Emperor, appalled at the possible consequences, decided to forbid
the atrocity, to which he had, perhaps, been persuaded against his
better judgment, or in a moment of passion."
"And if the message had not been delayed, _La Liberte_ would have been
saved?"
"Precisely that, sir."
Delcasse's lips were twitching.
"You may be right," he said, thickly; "you may be right; but it seems
incredible. After all, it is merely guesswork!"
"You will pardon me, sir, but it is not guesswork," protested Crochard.
"M. Lepine will tell you that, in a case of this kind, it must be all or
nothing. Every detail, even to the slightest, the most insignificant,
must fit perfectly, or they are all worthless. If I am wrong in this
detail, I am wrong in all the others; if I am right in the others, I am
also right in this. They stand or fall together. And I believe they
will stand!"
The great Minister was gazing fascinated at the speaker; for the first
time, he caught a real glimpse of his tremendous personality.
"You mean, then," he said, finally, "that if any details we may discover
hereafter fail to fit this theory, the theory must be discarded?"
"Discarded utterly and without hesitation," agreed Crochard. "More than
that--"
A tap at the door interrupted him.
"Come in," said Delcasse.
His secretary entered, followed by a courier, carrying a portfolio.
"From Paris, sir," said the secretary, and the courier, with a bow, laid
the portfolio on the Minister's desk.
Delcasse took from his pocket a tiny key, unlocked the portfolio, drew
out a package and glanced at the superscription.
"Ah," he said; "the photographs!" and ripped the package open.
There were some two dozen of them, together with a long typewritten
report, which Delcasse glanced through rapidly.
"These are the result of the first report from Berlin," he said, "of
officers who are absent from their commands and whose present
whereabouts is not definitely known. A supplementary report will
follow."
"We can begin with these," said Lepine, and looked them over.
Crochard had risen and was looking at the photographs over the
detective's shoulder.
"We shall have to shave them first," he remarked.
"Shave them?"
"Divest them of those ornaments," and he indicated the upturned
moustaches, a la Kaiser, with which nearly all the pictured faces were
adorned. "A brush and a tablet of watercolour will do it."
M. Delcasse arose.
"I will leave that in your hands, gentlemen," he said. "I must meet the
Board of Inquiry almost at once. General Marbeau, I thank you for your
assistance. You will, of course, say nothing of all this to any one. As
for you, sir," he added to Crochard, "I shall thank you better another
day. Till this evening, M. Lepine," and he bowed the three men out.
Half an hour later, Lepine and Crochard were closeted with Monsieur and
Madame Brisson in the former's bureau at the du Nord. The little
innkeeper and his wife were inarticulate with excitement, for they had
guessed Lepine's identity from his resemblance to the pictures which
every illustrated paper published at frequent intervals, and they
suspected, from his bearing, that Crochard was a person of even greater
importance. Their faces were glowing with pride, too, for their
proffered refreshment had not been declined. In after days, when the
sentence of silence had been lifted, they would tell the story to their
admiring friends:
"Imagine it. Here we sat, I here, Gabrielle there; in that chair M.
Lepine, Prefect of the Paris Service du Surete, a little thin man with
eyes oh, so bright; and in the fourth chair, with eyes still brighter
and an air distinguished which there could be no mistaking--whom do you
think? None other than the Duc de B----"; or the Prince de R----, or the
Marquis de C----; that was a detail to be filled in later; but a Great
Highness, rest assured of that! And the way that both M. Lepine and the
unknown Highness relished their Chateau Yquem was a great compliment to
the house.
After these amenities, Lepine produced the demoustached photographs.
"Look well at these," he said; "have care--do not speak unless you are
very sure," and he passed the photographs one by one to Madame
Gabrielle, who handed them on to her husband. Some ten or twelve were
examined without comment, and then Madame uttered a sudden exclamation.
"It is he!" she cried. "It is one of them!"
"One of whom?" asked Lepine.
"One of those men. Behold, Aristide!"
Brisson took the card and looked at it.
"Sacred heart! But you are right, Gabrielle!"
"You are sure?" persisted Lepine.
"Sure! But of a certainty! I would swear to him!"
Lepine put the photograph in his pocket, and turned to the others. But
there was no second recognition. Brisson and his wife went through them
twice, until they had convinced themselves that their other guest was
not among them. Finally Lepine gathered the photographs together.
"I must warn you again, Brisson, and you, Madame," he said, severely,
"that of this not a single word must be breathed--to no one. Let it pass
from your minds as though it had never been. It is an affair of high
diplomacy; and you might suffer much were it known that you are
concerned in it. In behalf of France, I thank you, and I shall have care
that your so great service is brought to the attention of the proper
persons. But remember--not a word!"
Monsieur and Madame were faithful--only in the seclusion of their
bedroom, with the light extinguished, and in bated whispers, did they
ever discuss it. And, as at this point they pass from this story, let
it be added that, some months later, a parcel was delivered at their
door, which, when opened, was found to contain a handsome vase of
Sevres. Inside the vase was a card, "To Monsieur and Madame Aristide
Brisson, from Theophile Delcasse, as a slight recognition of their
services to France."
It would be impossible to say which this worthy couple value most
highly, the vase or the card. Certain it is that, if you are ever a
guest at the du Nord, you will be shown both of them, the vase in a
velvet-lined case against the wall and the card, neatly framed, just
below it. And, in consideration of their increased importance, Monsieur
and Madame have considered themselves justified in increasing their
tariff ten per cent.
* * * * *
As soon as Lepine and Crochard were alone together, the former took the
photograph from his pocket, looked at the number on the back, and then
consulted a typewritten list of names. Then, with a hand not wholly
steady, he handed the list to his companion.
"Number eighteen," he said.
Opposite that number Crochard read, "Admiral H. Pachmann, Chief of the
Wireless Service;" and then he gazed at the photograph long and
earnestly, as though impressing it indelibly upon his mind.