I had an awful five minutes in my efforts to climb the wall. We had
forgotten that. For a minute I was in despair, and then I fell over a
garden chair. I dragged it to the wall and somehow scrambled up, and,
panting, lay still for a moment, listening. I suppose that, becoming
suspicious, they had returned, for two of the men passed by below me,
talking fast, and if they had been less busy over the pistol-shots and
had merely looked up from a few feet away, I should have been caught.
I waited, breathing hard. A few minutes passed. They seemed to be
hours. The noises ceased. I saw dimly through the torrents of rain my
house guard returning to his post. He went in, and at once I turned
over, dropped, and in a moment was deep in the wood. I was drenched
and as tired of a sudden as if I had walked all day. I suppose it was
due to the intense anxiety and excitement of my adventure. I went on
for a half-mile, keeping my hand on the package. It was now after
eleven, and I sat down in the wood and rested for a while. I knew
Paris well. I had been there two years. I walked on for nearly an
hour, and then within one of the barriers, remote from the Bois, I
caught a cab and drove to the Rue Rivoli, where I left the man and
walked to our legation in the Rue de Presbourg. We kept there a
night-watchman, and both he and the concierge must have been amazed at
my appearance. I went up to my own room, had a roaring fire kindled,
locked the door, found a smoking-jacket, and then, with a glass of
good rye and a cigar, sat down, feeling a delightful sense of joy and
security. Next I turned to examine the value of my prize. The ashes
fell about as I laid the packet on the table.
I was by degrees becoming warm, and although wet, for I had had no
complete change of garments, I was so elated that I hardly gave a
thought to my condition. As I sat, the unopened papers before me, I
began to consider, as others have done, the ethical aspects of the
matter. A woman had stolen the documents now on the table. To have
returned them would have convicted her. We were on the verge of war
with two great nations. One of them had us in a net of spies. War,
which changes all moral obligations, was almost on us. I would leave
it to my chief. No more scrupulous gentleman was ever known to me. I
undid the knotted ribbon with which Madame Bellegarde had hastily tied
the papers together and turned to consider them.
My own doubts did, I fear, weaken as, turning over the documents, I
saw revealed the secrets of my country's enemies. In the crisis we
were facing they were of inestimable value. Some of the papers were
original letters; others were copies of letters from the French
embassy in London. Among them was a draft of a letter of Drouyn de
Lhuys, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, and on this and on others
were sharp comments in the emperor's well-known hand, giving reasons
for acknowledging the Confederacy without delay. There were even hints
at intervention by the European powers as desirable. I sat amazed as
at last I tied up the papers, and placing them again within my
waistcoat, lay down on a lounge before the fire to rest, for sleep was
not for me. I lay quiet, thinking of what had become of Merton and
Alphonse, and wondering at the amazing good fortune of my first
attempt at burglary.