Richard Duvall rose, the following day, with a less troubled mind than
at any time since his arrival in Paris.
His calculations of the night before had brought him to a definite
conclusion.
After breakfasting in the cafe of the hotel he returned to his room, and
rang up Monsieur Lefevre.
"I want the assistance of one of your men, Monsieur," he said.
"Ah!" laughed the Prefect. "You are--what you Americans call--up a tree,
is it not?"
"Not at all. You have said that there existed between us a competition,
to recover Mr. Stapleton's child. I think I am going to win. But since I
am not in a position to make the necessary arrests, myself, I am going
to share the glory with you, my dear friend, by allowing one of your men
to do so for me."
"So you are confident?"
"Reasonably so. Can you spare Vernet for the day? He is a good man."
"One of my best. You shall have him. And if you succeed, I shall still
regard myself the loser, and will buy the champagne, and the dinner at
the Cafe Royale, as I agreed."
"And I shall be most happy to do the same should I fail. Oblige me by
requesting Vernet to come to my rooms at the hotel at once. Good by."
Duvall hung up the receiver, and sat down with the drawings he had made
before him. He awaited the coming of Vernet with impatience.
The latter appeared in some twenty minutes.
"What can I do for you, Monsieur Duvall?" he asked.
"Good morning, Vernet. Sit down, and have a cigar. I have a little
matter I wish to talk over with you."
"Concerning the missing child of Monsieur Stapleton, I understand,"
remarked Vernet, as he lit a cigar and drew his chair up to the table.
He glanced at the drawings before him. "What are these, may I ask?"
Duvall took up his pencil. "This, Vernet, is a map of a small part of
Paris. Here, as you see, is the Avenue Kleber, terminating at the
Champs Elysees just in front of the Arc de Triomphe."
"I see. It is quite plain."
"Here--this black square--is Mr. Stapleton's house. From there to the
arch is a matter of some six hundred yards."
"About that, I should say. What of it?"
"Wait. The black-bearded fellow--the kidnapper--who visited Mr.
Stapleton last night, and escaped by the ruse of being arrested by one
of his confederates, will arrive at Mr. Stapleton's house at eight
o'clock tonight."
"Mon Dieu! If that is so, we have him!"
"Not so fast. We shall not interfere with him--then."
"But, Monsieur, would you let this fellow escape? It is my duty to
arrest him, as soon as he puts in an appearance."
"You are mistaken, Vernet. Your duty is to do as I instruct you.
Monsieur Lefevre has placed you under my orders for the day."
Vernet laughed. "That is so," he said. "What do you wish me to do?"
"The man will come to Mr. Stapleton's house at eight o'clock, and will
be given a large sum of money. He has agreed, if he is not interfered
with, to have the address where the boy may be found telephoned to Mr.
Stapleton within half an hour."
"Ah! Then we shall follow, and get him after he has telephoned."
Duvall laughed. "We are dealing with a far shrewder man than that,
Vernet. This fellow will do no telephoning."
"Then how will he let Monsieur Stapleton know?"
"That is just what I am trying to find out. Put yourself in his place.
He is known--he dare not remain in Paris--he gets five hundred thousand
francs to give up the child. Is it not natural to suppose that he will
leave the city at once?"
"Yes. That is what I should do, in his place."
"Of course. Now I understand that the fellow will walk from Mr.
Stapleton's house to the Arc de Triomphe, a distance of six hundred
yards. He can do that easily in ten minutes."
"Yes."
"Once at the arch, he will stand awaiting a fast automobile, which will
come along the Champs Elysees. This automobile will stop for an instant
and pick him up, then proceed at high speed along the Avenue du Bois de
Boulogne."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because it will afford him the quickest and safest road out of Paris.
From the arch to the Porte Dauphine is less than a mile. He can make it
in five minutes. In fifteen minutes altogether then, he is outside the
walls. In another fifteen minutes, he is beyond pursuit, in the
country."
"But you forget, Monsieur Duvall, that he has not yet advised his
confederates that all is well, and that the address of the place where
the boy is hidden is to be telephoned to Mr. Stapleton."
"No, Vernet, I haven't forgotten that. In fact, I am coming to it now.
Suppose you were in this fellow's place--how would you do it?"
Vernet scratched his head thoughtfully. "He might fire a pistol from the
car."
"Too dangerous. The noise of the explosion would attract attention. He
must work silently."
"A wave of the hand, perhaps, to someone along the street."
"Also dangerous. This fellow realizes that every possible step will be
taken to capture not only himself, but his confederates. He anticipates,
no doubt, that the road will be carefully watched. Why take chances,
and run the risk of his confederates, at least, being arrested, when
there are simpler, easier ways?"
"Such as what?"
"Do you not remember the signal, used on the Versailles road, the blue
light?"
"Ah! Exactly. He will signal to some one in a house along the way."
"That would be easier and safer; but you will remember that there are no
houses along the way--none, at least, in which a man of this sort could
have a confederate hidden. But I should not say none. There is one,
perhaps."
"Indeed, Monsieur. And what house is that?"
"Mr. Stapleton's. Look!" He drew toward him the sheet of paper. "Here,"
he placed the point of his pencil upon the black square which indicated
the location of the banker's residence, "is the house. The north window
of a room on the top floor commands a view of the Avenue du Bois de
Boulogne, from a point some 500 feet west of the Arc de Triomphe, to
where it intersects the Avenue Malakoff. Beyond there, the view is
interrupted. In fact, the trees along the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne are
to some extent an obstruction; but at the crossing with the Avenue
Malakoff there is a wide and uninterrupted view."
"But a confederate in Monsieur Stapleton's own house?"
"Yes. The chauffeur, Francois."
"You astonish me, Monsieur. We have suspected the fellow, it is true.
The very room of which you speak has been searched. We found nothing.
How do you know that what you say is true?"
"Never mind how I know it--now. The point is this--Francois, I fully
believe, will be in that room, tonight, at eight o'clock, watching
carefully the automobiles which pass the intersection of the Avenue
Malakoff--"
"Not necessarily, Monsieur. We can easily prevent it, by placing him
under arrest."
"That is exactly what we must _not_ do. Don't you see, it is absolutely
necessary, for the recovery of Mr. Stapleton's child, that the signals
go through uninterrupted?"
"Of course, I had forgotten that. And these signals?"
"Naturally I cannot tell--yet. I think, however, that the automobile for
which Francois will be looking will show a brilliant blue light, while
crossing the Avenue Malakoff. That is, of course, if our friend the
kidnapper gets safely away, without being pursued."
"And otherwise?"
"I think the light would be red. He can make either, very simply, by
means of a powerful electric searchlight--one of these pocket affairs,
you know, fitted with colored glasses."
"You interest me wonderfully, Monsieur Duvall. What next?"
"It is, of course, most important that the signal given shall be the
correct one. There must be no interference whatever with this fellow's
escape--_up to that point_."
"Ah--I begin to see. And what after that?"
"First, let us continue with Francois. He will, I think, return a blue
signal to the man in the automobile, to show that he has seen, and
understood. He has the means to do so all ready, in his room."
"And then?"
"He will make, I think, a similar signal from his south window to some
one who is on watch, in the direction of Passy. This second person, who
no doubt has the child in his care, will then go to a telephone,
transmit the address of the house where the child is hidden, to
Mr. Stapleton, and quietly depart, to join his confederate
in--say--Brussels. He will run not the slightest risk of capture. If, on
the other hand, that message fails to go through, the address will _not_
be telephoned, and the child will probably be killed."
Vernet frowned grimly. "It is a remarkable plan, Monsieur. These fellows
are no bunglers. I think, however, that we shall be able to stop them."
"How?"
"I will station myself at the Porte Dauphine with a fast automobile, a
racer. When these fellows pass, I will follow them, and overtake them."
"An excellent idea, Vernet; but how, may I ask, will you know the car,
when it passes you? There are hundreds of cars on the Avenue du Bois de
Boulogne, at eight o'clock in the evening."
Vernet laughed. "I confess, Monsieur, you have me there."
"Of course you might station a man at the intersection of the Avenue
Malakoff and the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne; but I do not think he
would be able to see the signal. By placing on the end of the
searchlight a paper tube, the light would be invisible except in the
direction in which it is pointed--and that, you will remember, is
diagonally upward. A man on the sidewalk would not see it at all."
"Then, Monsieur, I fail to see that there is anything we can do."
"There is one thing, Vernet. You forget the answering signal, from the
window."
The Frenchman looked at his companion with undisguised admiration.
"Sacre!" he exclaimed. "You have a mind, Monsieur Duvall, in a
thousand."
"Thanks," answered Duvall, dryly. "Now, my idea is, to have you select
some point near the intersection of the two avenues, from which the
window in the rear of Mr. Stapleton's house can be clearly seen. Station
yourself there, tonight, with the fastest automobile you can secure. Let
one man watch the window, another the vehicles passing in the Avenue du
Bois de Boulogne. The moment you see the blue light, start after your
man. He should be just across the intersection, on his way down the
Avenue du Bois de Boulogne."
Vernet rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. "We shall get
him--never fear."
"Of course," said Duvall, slowly, "all this is pure assumption on my
part, based upon what I have discovered in the chauffeur's room. It may
not turn out as I say, but the chances are fifty to one that it will."
"And you, Monsieur? Where will you be?"
"I shall be in the room, with Francois. I do not propose that _he_ shall
escape. And further--I do not know that I am correct, in my assumption
regarding his signals to Passy. He may go out, and send the telephone
message himself. In that case, I shall follow. Or he may, through some
unforeseen accident, get the wrong signal, in which case I propose to
overpower him, and give the right one. Suppose we go, now, and take a
look at the intersection of the Avenue Malakoff and the Avenue du Bois
de Boulogne, and see what arrangements can best be made. Also, if Mr.
Stapleton is out in his car, we may be able to take a few observations
from his chauffeur's window." He took up his hat, lighted a cigar, and
led the way to the door.
They drove to the Arc de Triomphe in a cab, and, after dismissing it,
walked slowly down the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. At the intersection
with the Avenue Malakoff they stopped and gazed about carefully,
although in such a way as not to attract attention. A brief inspection
served to confirm all that Duvall had said. It took them some little
time to locate the window in the rear of Mr. Stapleton's house; but
after a time they managed to do so, and saw that it commanded an
uninterrupted view of the point where they stood.
Vernet was highly satisfied, as they parted. It was deemed unnecessary
for him to visit the chauffeur's room, and thereby run the risk of their
being seen entering the banker's house together. Vernet departed to make
his arrangements for the evening, strictly cautioned by his companion
not to let Monsieur Lefevre into his secret. "It is a bet," he told
Vernet. "I hope we shall succeed in winning it."
After his companion had departed, Duvall dropped in to see Mr.
Stapleton. He learned that the banker was out, driving in the Bois with
Mrs. Stapleton, who, overcome by anxiety and grief, had great need of
the fresh air to retain her health. She was fast breaking down under the
strain.
Duvall went up to have another look at the chauffeur's room. He had been
unable to get a thoroughly clear idea of the view from the window, the
night before, owing to the darkness.
He found everything as he had left it,--the searchlight on the dresser,
the colored glass ornaments hanging from their gay ribbons. The north
window overlooked with perfect clearness the intersection of the two
avenues, as he and Vernet had seen them from below. The other window
presented a more distant view. Nearby roofs and chimneys obstructed it
in part; but between them could be seen the villas and buildings in
Passy, smiling in the sunlight. The sight impressed Duvall the more
strongly with the cleverness of the men he sought to arrest. Somewhere
in all that maze of buildings, that wide vista of houses and trees and
distant fields, Mr. Stapleton's child lay concealed, and it needed but a
flash of light from this window to set him free. Passing his fingers
idly along the window sill, Duvall suddenly observed two parallel
scratches in the white paint, which had apparently been made with the
point of a knife. He knelt down, and sighted between them. His line of
vision swept clear of the nearby roofs and chimneys, toward Passy.
The detective turned from the window, a smile of satisfaction on his
face, and proceeded to make a careful examination of the chauffeur's
closet. It was here that he intended to lie hidden. He felt certain
that, in order the better to perceive and send his signals, as well as
to escape detection from below, the chauffeur would allow his room to
remain unlighted.
This, Duvall reasoned, would render it easy for him to lie concealed
until the signal which would insure the safe return of the lost child
had been given, after which he would call upon Francois with precision
and despatch. Should anything occur to prevent the chauffeur from giving
the favorable signal, he proposed to give it himself.
The closet was close to the north window, and its door opened in such a
way that Duvall saw at once that in the darkened room he could readily
open it sufficiently to see all that Francois did, without running any
serious risk of detection.
He left the house at a little after noon and stopped in at a well known
restaurant on the Boulevard des Italiens for lunch. He felt very well
satisfied with the course that events were taking. If only he could get
through with this thing, and get back to Grace, and the farm, he would
be supremely happy. He became so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed
to notice a gentleman who slipped quietly into the chair opposite him,
until the latter leaned over and touched his arm.
He looked up suddenly. It was Monsieur Lefevre!