He resumed his seat, and sat a quiet listener to our statement of
difficulties. At last he said: "Will you pardon me if I make a
suggestion?"
"By all means," said the chief. "It is almost as much your concern as
ours."
"I suppose," said Merton, "the despatches to Berlin and St. Petersburg
may go in cipher by trusty messengers or any chance tourist, and that
there is no need for haste."
"Yes, that is true."
There was a moment's pause in this interesting consultation, the
captain evidently waiting to be again invited to state his opinion. At
last our chief said: "You have never seen these papers?"
"No, sir."
"Then I had better make clear to you, in strict confidence, that they
reveal to us urgent pressure on the part of the emperor to induce
England to intervene with France in our sad war. The English cabinet,
most fortunately, is not unanimously hostile, and Lord John Russell is
hesitating. Our friends are the queen and the great middle class of
dissenters, and, strange to say, the Lancashire operatives. The
aristocracy, the church, finance, and literature are all our enemies,
and at home, you know, things are not altogether as one could wish.
Just now no general, no, not the President, is of such moment to us
as our minister in London. He has looked to us for information. We
could only send back mere echoes of his own fears. And now"--he struck
the pile of papers with his hand--"here is the whole story. Mr. Adams
must have these without delay. I should like to see his interview with
Lord John. You seemed to me to have in mind something further to say.
I interrupted only to let you feel the momentous character of this
revelation."
"As I understand it," replied Merton, "you assume that the Foreign
Office here will be sure these papers are in your hands."
"We may take that for granted. They are not stupid, and the matter as
it stands is for them, to say the least, awkward."
"Yes, sir, and they will know what a man of sense should do with these
papers and do at once. I may assume, then, that the whole resources
of the imperial police will be used, and without scruple, to prevent
them from leaving Paris or reaching London."
"Yes," said the chief, "of that we may be certain."
"And if now," said Merton, "some one of note, or two persons, go with
them to London, there is a fair probability of the man or the papers
being--we may say--mislaid, on the way."
"It is possible," said the minister, "quite possible."
"I think, sir," said I, "that is probable, oh, quite certain, and we
cannot accept the least risk of their being lost. No copies will
answer."
"No. As you all are aware--as we all know, Captain Merton, affairs are
at a crisis. The evidence must be complete, past doubt or dispute,
such as to enable Mr. Adams to speak decisively--and he will."
"May I, sir," said Merton, "venture to further suggest that some one,
say the first secretary, take a dummy envelop marked 'Important and
confidential,' addressed to Mr. Adams, and be not too careful of it
while he crosses the Channel?"
"Well," said the minister, smiling, "what next?"
"He will be robbed on the way, or something will happen. It will never
get there."
"No. They will stop at nothing," said I.
"I ought to tell you," said the minister, "that now Madame Bellegarde
is sure to be arrested" (as in fact did occur). "She will be subject
to one of those cruel cross-examinations which are so certain to break
down a witness. If this should happen before we can act, they will be
so secure of what we shall do that--"
Merton interrupted him. "Excuse me. She will never speak. They will
get nothing from her. That is an exceptional woman." The minister cast
a half-smiling glance at him. He was deeply distressed, as I saw, and
added: "You will, I trust, sir, stand by her. They can prove nothing,
and she will hold her tongue and resolutely."
"I will do all in my power; rest assured of that. But what next? The
papers! Mr. Adams!" He was anxious.
"Might I again venture?"
"Pray do."
"I have or can have an errand in Belgium. Give me the papers. They
will reach their destination if I am alive, and, so far, I at least
must be entirely unsuspected. My obvious reason for going will leak
out and be such as to safeguard my real reason."
"May I ask why you go to Belgium?"
"Yes, I want it known. I have arranged to satisfy a gentleman named
Porthos, who thinks himself injured."
"Porthos!" exclaimed the minister. "Why, that is a character in one of
Dumas's novels."
"Yes, I beg pardon; we call him Porthos. Mr. Greville will explain
later. He is the Baron la Garde. An absurd affair."
"I deeply regret it," said the minister. "I hoped it was settled. But
you may be hurt, and, pardon me, killed."
"In that case my second, Lieutenant West of our navy, will have the
papers and carry them to London. Count le Moyne is one of the baron's
seconds. He will hardly dream that he is an escort of the papers he
lost. But, sir, one word more. Madame Bellegarde is an American. You
will not desert her?"
"Not I. Rest easy as to that. We owe her too much."
"Then I am at your service."
"I regret, deeply regret this duel," said our chief, "but it does seem
to me, if it must take place, a sure means of effecting our purpose."
As he spoke, the secretary gathered up the various papers.
"I think, sir," said Merton, "it will be well if one, or, better, two
responsible people remain here overnight." This seemed to us a proper
precaution.
As we had talked I saw Merton playing with the dusty blue ribbon
which, when he entered, lay beside the papers. As we rose I missed it,
and knew that he had put it in his pocket. After we had arranged for
our passports I left with Merton. As we walked away he said:
"I propose that you say at once to the baron's friends that we will
leave for Belgium to-morrow. It is not unusual, and I have a right to
choose. You must insist. Porthos is wild for a fight, and--confound
it, don't look so anxious. This affair has hurried things a little; I
wanted more practice. I should be a fool to say I am a match for
Porthos, but he is very big. If I can tire him, or get a scratch such
as stops these affairs--somehow it will come to an end, and, at all
events, how better could I risk my life for my country? It must be
lightly talked about in the clubs to-night." West and I took care that
it was.
The next day early we were at the legation. The first secretary was
preparing the dummy. "Pity," said Merton, "to leave the enclosure a
blank." The secretary laughed and wrote on the inside cover:
Trust you will find this interesting,
Yours,
_Uncle Sam._
We went out, Merton and I looking at our passports and talking loudly.
At ten that morning the first secretary and an attache started for
London. To anticipate, he was jostled by two men on the Dover pier
that afternoon, and until a few minutes later did not detect his loss
of the papers. It was cleverly done. Of course he made a complaint and
the police proved useless.