At the same hour that Richard Duvall was arranging with Mr. Stapleton
his plan for the capture of the kidnappers the following day, Grace was
closeted with Monsieur Lefevre, the Prefect of Police, in the latter's
library, going over the affair in all its details. The Prefect was
speaking, ticking off on his fingers the points in the case as he
proceeded.
"First, we have the impossible story of the nurse, Mary Lanahan. She
seems to be telling the truth; yet I believe she is lying. In my
opinion, she is deeply concerned in the whole matter."
"But what about the attempt to poison her?"
"It is highly probable that she poisoned herself, taking a slight dose
only. This would divert suspicion from her."
"I see."
"Then we have the case of Alphonse Valentin, and the mysterious
gold-tipped cigarettes. Your husband, Monsieur Duvall, I am informed,
has found one of these cigarettes, partly smoked, on the grass at the
scene of the crime. This might indicate that Valentin was there, with
her, on some occasion, but not necessarily on the day the kidnapping
occurred. It might readily have been the day before--or the week before,
for that matter."
"I thought of that," remarked Grace, quietly. "It seems to me that
Richard attached too much importance to the matter."
"That remains to be seen. Now, supposing Valentin to be concerned, with
the nurse, in the plot. He of course does not think, at the start, that
the possession of the cigarettes would involve him in the affair,
because he does not know that Monsieur Duvall has found the one in the
grass. Your husband, however, asks Mary Lanahan what kind of cigarettes
Valentin smokes. She at once becomes suspicious, and at the first
opportunity warns Valentin, by letter, to destroy them. That shows
clearly that they are working together."
"Undoubtedly. But meanwhile the cigarettes are stolen from Valentin's
room by a man with a dark beard, who subsequently enters Mr.
Stapleton's house. For that, I confess, I can find no explanation."
"Nor I. The destruction of the cigarettes could be of no importance to
anyone, except to the kidnappers themselves. It is of course possible
that someone else in Mr. Stapleton's house--Francois, for instance--is
concerned in the plot."
"But the man who took the cigarettes had a black beard, while Francois
is smooth shaven."
"I know. But it might have been a disguise."
"I do not think so. The man I saw was taller than Francois, and not so
heavily built."
The Prefect considered the matter for a moment. "You are certain that he
entered the Stapleton's house?"
"Absolutely certain. I saw the gate close behind him."
"Then I can only say that, so far, the matter is inexplicable. Now let
us come back to Valentin. He claims to be working to capture the
kidnappers--in order to clear the nurse, whom he loves."
"That is as I understand it."
"He denies that he smokes, yet offers no explanation of the presence of
the cigarettes in his room."
"None. Further, someone sends a note to Valentin, advising him that the
writer is suspicious of Francois--suggesting that he watch him. Can this
mean that Francois is in the plot, and they fear he may be
weakening--preparing to turn against them?"
"It certainly looks that way."
"I wish I could see one of these famous cigarettes."
Grace laughed suddenly. "Why," she exclaimed, "I have one in my
pocketbook. I had quite forgotten it." She opened her purse and took out
the slender white cylinder.
Lefevre examined the thing closely. "An Egyptian cigarette of American
make," he mused. "Expensive, here in Paris, and rarely used, except by
Americans."
"That is true; yet I understand that this man Valentin has lived a great
deal in America."
For a moment the Prefect did not reply. Then a puzzled look crossed his
face. "This is a woman's cigarette," he exclaimed. "No man would smoke
such a thing." He brought his hand down sharply upon his knee. "My
girl, it is not impossible that the child was stolen not by a man at
all, but by a woman."
"A woman, apparently, that both Valentin and the nurse are trying to
shield."
The Prefect sat for a moment buried in thought. Then he glanced at Grace
keenly. "It seems to me," he remarked, in a quiet tone, "that we should
endeavor to determine whether or not Mrs. Stapleton is in the habit of
using cigarettes."
"Mrs. Stapleton!" gasped Grace, in amazement.
"Yes. I confess the idea is a new one, to me; but it may prove of
interest."
"But why should the boy's mother wish to kidnap him?"
"I do not know. There is but one point of significance. During the past
week my men have, naturally, questioned Mrs. Stapleton closely as to her
movements during the past two or three months. They did this, to
determine, if possible, whether the criminals were of Paris, or from
some other place, where Mrs. Stapleton may have been, with the child,
during the past winter. You know these fellows work in bands, and have
their regular field of operations."
"I see. And where had she been?"
"Monte Carlo!" The Prefect uttered the two words significantly.
Grace was quick to grasp his meaning.
"Then you mean that possibly Mrs. Stapleton may have lost large sums at
the gambling tables, and, fearing to tell her husband of her losses, has
enlisted the services of the nurse, and of her friend Valentin, and
spirited the child away for a few weeks, in order to get the sum of one
hundred thousand dollars from her husband without his knowledge?"
"It is by no means impossible. I would recommend that you investigate
the matter thoroughly. If we find that Mrs. Stapleton uses gold-tipped
cigarettes of this variety, it may go far toward a solution of the whole
affair."
Grace, remembering Mrs. Stapleton's grief-stricken appearance, felt that
the clue was a very slender one, but determined to follow it up,
nevertheless.
"Now," went on the Prefect, "we come to the sudden and most unexpected
appearance of Valentin, clinging to the rear of the automobile that
brought you back to Paris tonight."
"As I have told you, he claims to have clambered into Mr. Stapleton's
car."
"Driven by Francois?"
"Yes."
"And you say the man who drove the car had a black beard--the same man,
in fact, who broke into Valentin's room and stole the cigarettes?"
"Yes."
"Then either Valentin is lying, or the man with the black beard is
Francois. Let us look at his story from both sides. If he is telling the
truth, then Francois is one of the kidnappers."
"So it would seem. You are having him watched, you say?"
"Yes. My men report that he did leave the house, in Mr. Stapleton's
automobile tonight, at about nine o'clock. That would seem to agree with
Valentin's story. They also report that he returned about eleven,
alone."
"They did not follow him?"
"No. It is impossible to do so, in another car, without arousing his
suspicion, and putting him on his guard. We do not wish him to know that
he is being watched."
"But Mr. Stapleton must know where he has been--why the car was out."
"Yes. We have questioned him. He says the man reported that the gasolene
tank was leaking, and that he ordered him to have it repaired at once."
"And was it repaired?"
The Prefect smiled. "Yes. The car was at a garage in the Boulevard St.
Michel from half past nine until half past ten."
Grace fell back, astonished. "Then Valentin is lying!" she cried.
"So it seems; unless, of course, Francois took out another car from the
garage, while his own was being fixed."
"They would know that at the garage."
"They deny it. But these fellows all hang together. They would think
nothing of protecting a brother chauffeur, in the matter of a little joy
ride."
"Valentin says nothing about this, in his story."
"He may have omitted it, as an unimportant detail. I mean that he may
have slipped into the second car, as he did into the first, without
being observed. It was dark of course. He may not have thought it
necessary to mention it. All this, of course, is on the assumption that
he is telling the truth. Now let us say that he is lying--that the man
with the black beard is not Francois, but someone else concerned, with
Valentin in the plot. What is the purpose of his tale?"
"I cannot imagine. Can you, Monsieur?"
"No, not immediately. The first contradiction, of course, is this. If
Valentin and the man with the black beard are working together, why
should the latter have broken into his room to get the cigarettes?"
"There seems no sense to it."
"Yet he may have realized the danger of the cigarettes being in
Valentin's possession, and instead of trying to warn him simply came and
took them away. It is not a particularly plausible explanation; but let
us admit it, for the moment, in order to get ahead with our reasoning.
Suppose Valentin, the man with the black beard, and Mary Lanahan, the
nurse, to be all working together, either with Mrs. Stapleton, or with
outside parties. They have the child safely hidden. They abduct you, and
send the message to Mr. Stapleton through you. They do not trust you,
knowing, no doubt, that you are an agent of my office. They send
Valentin along, on the back of the machine, to pretend to be an enemy of
theirs trying, like yourself, to recover the child. He thus gets into
your confidence. He advises you to report your message from the
kidnappers to Mr. Stapleton at once. He questions you, and learns that
you do not know the location of the house where the child is hidden. He
then offers to show you as nearly as he can where the house is located.
If he is in league with the kidnappers, he will take you, and the men
whom tomorrow I shall send with you, to some location miles removed from
the actual point where the child is concealed, and you will waste the
day in a useless search. Decidedly it would be a clever move on their
part."
"It certainly would."
"Further, you told this fellow that you had a plan to capture the
scoundrels. You are to acquaint him with that plan, tomorrow afternoon.
If you do so, he will no doubt get to the telephone on some pretext and
warn his comrades of what you intend to do. I strongly recommend that
you put no faith in the fellow whatever."
"Still, you would advise trying to locate the house, as he suggests?"
"Yes, we may be wrong about him. We must leave no stone unturned. And
now we come to your interview with Mr. Stapleton. You gave him the
message, of course. What did he say?"
"He said that he intended to carry out the instructions I gave him to
the letter--pay these fellows their money, and get back the boy."
Monsieur Lefevre uttered an exclamation of anger. "Sacre! He must not do
that! The stupid fellow! He will spoil everything!"
Grace laughed quietly to herself. "Hardly stupid, Monsieur! The poor man
is half mad over the boy's loss. He will do anything, to get him back. I
can scarcely blame him."
The Prefect held out his hand. "I beg your pardon, my child. You are
right. It is perhaps but natural for him to feel as he does. But there
are other things at stake, than the recovery of the child. For Monsieur
Stapleton to pay over this huge sum to these criminals, and then to
allow them to escape, is not only a grave reflection upon the efficiency
of the Paris police, but is an injustice to the public as well. If these
men are successful in this attempt, they will make others. Other
children will be stolen. I cannot permit it. It must be prevented at all
costs. These men must be brought to justice."
"How can you prevent it, Monsieur? Mr. Stapleton is determined."
"That, my child, is the question. I cannot stop Monsieur Stapleton if
he wishes to drive out the road to Versailles and toss a hundred
thousand dollars into the first automobile that passes him, showing a
blue light." He rose and began to walk up and down the room.
"I have a plan, Monsieur," said Grace, quietly.
"What is it, my child?" The Prefect regarded her with an indulgent
smile. He was very fond of Grace. He regretted that he had been unable
to secure the services of her husband in this case. He knew, from past
experience, her cleverness; but he did not believe that in a matter of
this sort she would be able to outwit men who were probably among the
shrewdest criminals in Paris.
"First," said Grace, "we will have the location pointed out to us by
Valentin thoroughly searched."
"Assuredly! It will, however, probably result in nothing. Even if
Valentin is telling the truth, these fellows will beyond question have
moved the child before now to prepare for the work of tomorrow evening."
"Possibly. At any rate, we will try. After that, I shall want Valentin
to drive a motor car for me. He is an accomplished chauffeur."
"You will take him into your confidence, then?" asked the Prefect, in
some alarm.
"No. I shall tell him nothing, except that he is to drive the car, and
where."
"Very well. But be careful. What next?"
Grace leaned over and spoke to the Prefect in low tones for several
minutes. He listened to what she said, occasionally smiling, and nodding
his head. Presently he brought his hand down sharply upon the table.
"Bravo!" he exclaimed. "You were born to be a detective. We will get the
kidnappers, the money, and in all probability the child as well. I
congratulate you!"
"You think it will work, then?"
"I do not see how it can fail. It is an inspiration. I shall certainly
feel very well satisfied indeed, if I can return to Monsieur Stapleton
both his child and his money, and at the same time place the kidnappers
behind the bars. I could never permit it to be said that the police of
Paris would knowingly allow a desperate band of criminals to get away
with half a million of francs without lifting a hand to prevent it." He
rose and glanced at his watch. "Come, my child. It is after midnight.
You have had a long and exciting day. You had better get some rest."
Grace rose. "Richard seemed awfully puzzled when he saw me."
"Did he?" The Prefect laughed mischievously. "Really it is a great joke
upon him. To be within a step of his own wife, and not to know her!"
Grace seemed scarcely to appreciate the humor of the situation. "I think
it's a shame," she said, "Poor Richard. He'll never forgive me. I really
think I ought to tell him."
Monsieur Lefevre shook his head. "If you do that, my dear child,
everything will be spoiled. He will insist upon your dropping the case
at once, and that would certainly not be fair to me."
"But, Monsieur, after all, you really do not need me, with all the
clever men you have upon your staff."
"Who knows? Perhaps you may succeed, where they will fail. I have great
faith in the intuition of a woman. And already you have advanced the
case further in forty-eight hours than my men have done in ten days. It
was a chance, I will admit, that these rascals should have chosen you to
deliver their demands to Monsieur Stapleton. I confess I do not
understand their reasons for doing so. They must have known that
besides telling your story to him, you would also tell it to me. It may
have been sheer bravado on their part--it is a characteristic, I have
noted, in many criminals. They seem to glory in defying the police.
These fellows, no doubt, think that they have matters so arranged that
capture is impossible. I think we shall give them a little surprise."
He turned to the door, and held it open, allowing Grace to pass into the
hall. "Good night, my child," he called out to her, as she began to
ascend the stairs. "I think I will smoke one more cigar."
As for Grace, she lay awake a long time, thinking of Richard, of their
home in the country, of the happy hours they had spent there--before
this unexpected interruption to their honeymoon. It seemed very queer to
her, to be lying there, alone. She had not gotten used to it. And
somewhere, in this big city, Richard was also sleeping--and she not with
him! The excitement of the affair was beginning to die out. The meeting
with Richard on the boat, which she had planned when she set out from
home, had not materialized. She had postponed this meeting, in her
thoughts, until his arrival in Paris, and now--he had come, and still
she had not been able so much as to touch his hand. She finally went to
sleep, devoutly praying that tomorrow, and the capture of the
kidnappers, would mark the end of their needless and cruel separation.