A DISCONCERTED COMMISSARY
The journey across Paris proceeded without further incident, until they
reached the prefecture.
The two detectives hurried their prisoner into a large general office,
where he was surveyed with some curiosity by the subordinates lounging
near a huge fire, whilst one of their number reported his arrival. After
a brief interval he was taken into an inner office. Behind a green
baize-covered table was seated a sharp-looking man, whose face was
chiefly composed of eyebrows, pince-nez, a hooked nose, and a furious
imperiale.
This individual turned the shade of the lamp so that the light fell in
its full radiance on the face and figure of the prisoner. He produced a
huge volume, and thumbed over its leaves until he reached the first
vacant place, ruled and numbered for the description of all persons
brought before him.
"Your name?" he said sharply.
"Reginald Brett," was the reply.
The Frenchman required this to be spelt for him.
"Age?"
"Thirty-seven."
"Nationality?"
"English."
"Profession?"
"Barrister-at-law."
The official consulted a type-written document, which he selected from a
mass of papers fastened by an indiarubber band. Then he looked curiously
at the prisoner.
"Are you sure this is the man?" he said to the senior detective.
"Quite positive, monsieur."
"Then take off his wig and get a towel, so that he may remove some of
his make-up. The rascal should be an actor. I never saw a better
disguise in my life."
Brett knew it was hopeless to attempt explanations at this stage. He
readily fell in with their directions, and in a few seconds he stood
revealed in something akin to his ordinary appearance.
Now, the French Commissary of Police was no fool. He was an adept at
reading character, but he was certainly puzzled after a sharp scrutiny
of Brett's clear-cut, intelligent features. Nevertheless, he knew that
the criminal instinct is often allied with the most deceptive external
appearances. So he turned to the detective, and said--
"Tell me, briefly, what happened?"
"In accordance with instructions, monsieur," the man replied, "Philippe
and I ascertained the movements of the prisoner at the Grand Hotel.
During the afternoon he received messages from London and from some
persons in Paris, which documents are now probably in his possession. He
quitted the hotel at eight o'clock, disguised as you have seen. He
called for a moment at a house in the Rue du Chaussée d'Antin, the
number of which we noted, and then made his way to the Café Noir in
Montmartre. There we watched him from the door for nearly three hours.
He feigned drunkenness, but held communication with no person."
"Ha!" cried the commissary. This struck him as an important point. He
made a memorandum of it.
"Soon after eleven o'clock he rose hastily and quitted the café, crossed
the Boulevard, and hailed a cab. We would have followed him, but there
was no other vehicle in sight. As our instructions were to arrest him at
any moment he seemed likely to elude us, we seized him. He struggled
violently, and told us some story about his desire to follow another
cab, which he said had disappeared. We saw no cab such as he described,
and we treated his words as a mere device to abstract attention. We were
right. A moment later he made an attempt to escape, and we were
compelled to use considerable force to prevent him from being
successful."
The commissary turned his eyes to the prisoner and was seemingly about
to question him, when Brett said with a smile--
"Perhaps, monsieur, you will allow me to say a word or two."
"Certainly." The official knew that criminals generally implicated
themselves when they commenced explaining matters.
"You are acting, I presume," said the barrister, "in obedience to
reports received from the London police with reference to the murder of
four Turkish subjects at Albert Gate, and the theft of some valuable
diamonds belonging to the Sultan?"
This calm summary of the facts seemed to disconcert the Frenchman. It
astonished him considerably to find his prisoner thus indicating so
clearly the nature of the charge to be brought against him.
"That may be so," he admitted.
"It is so," went on Brett; "and in this matter you are even more
hopelessly idiotic than I took you to be. I have told you my name and
profession. I am a friend of Mr. Talbot, the English gentleman who has
been spirited away in connection with this crime, and I have in my
pocket at this moment a letter from the British Under-Secretary of State
for Foreign Affairs, authorising me to use my best efforts towards
elucidating the mystery and tracking the real criminals. Here is the
letter," he continued, producing a document and laying it before the
amazed official.
"I was on the point of making an important discovery with reference to
this case when these too zealous agents of yours seized me and
absolutely refused, even whilst I was a prisoner in their hands, to
follow up the definite clue I had obtained. It is an easy matter to
verify my statements. The authenticity of this letter will be proved at
the British Embassy, whilst a telegram to Scotland Yard will place
beyond doubt not only my identity, but my bona fides in acting for Mr.
Talbot's relatives and the Foreign Office. Further, an inquiry made at
the Grand Hotel will produce unquestionable testimony from the manager,
who knows me, and from my friend, Lord Fairholme, who occupies rooms
there at this moment."
"Lord Fairholme!" stuttered the official. "Why, that is the name given
by the other prisoner."
"Do you mean to say you have arrested the Earl of Fairholme?" gasped
Brett, struggling with an irresistible desire to laugh.
The Frenchman covered his confusion by growling an unintelligible order,
and bent over the letter which Brett had given to him. In half a minute
one of the detectives returned, and with him was Fairholme, on whose
honest face indignation and astonishment struggled for mastery.
"Oh, surely that cannot be you, Brett!" cried his lordship, the moment
he entered the room. "Well, of all the ---- fools that ever lived, these
French Johnnies take the cake. I suppose that they have spoiled the
whole business! If the brutes had not taken me by surprise I would have
knocked over a dozen of them before they arrested me."
"Silence!" shrieked the commissary, into whose mind was intruding the
consciousness that he had committed an outrageous blunder.
"What did you say your name was?" he demanded fiercely.
"I told you my name an hour ago," said his lordship haughtily, "and if
you had not been so beastly clever you would have believed me. I am the
Earl of Fairholme, a fact that can be readily substantiated by dozens of
people here in Paris, and this is Mr. Reginald Brett, a friend of mine,
who would have probably discovered the mystery of my friend's
disappearance and the whereabouts of those diamonds by this time if you
had not interfered."
His lordship was hardly coherent with annoyance, but the acute official
had now convinced himself that a stupid mistake had been committed by
his department.
He became apologetic and suave. He explained that their mysterious
proceedings had to some extent committed them in the eyes of the police
to secret knowledge of the crime which had so thoroughly aroused the
detective departments in both London and Paris.
Evidently Scotland Yard had not advised the French police of Mr. Brett's
official connection with the hunt for the murderers. The agents of the
Paris Bureau had watched Brett's comings and goings during the day, and
the detectives' suspicions, once aroused, were intensified when his
friend, Lord Fairholme, sought the aid of two uniformed policemen to
break in the door of the Turkish residents in the Rue Barbette.
Even now, politely concluded the commissary, he would regretfully be
compelled to detain them for a little while, until he verified their
statements. Meanwhile, they would not be subject to any further
indignities, and might procure such refreshments as they desired. They
would probably be set at liberty within a couple of hours.
At 1.30 a.m. Brett and Fairholme were ushered forth from the doors of
the prefecture and stood in freedom in the street.
"Where now?" said Fairholme.
"To the hotel," replied Brett, wearily. "I must have sleep, so I consign
the Turks, and the Sultan's diamonds, and every one concerned with the
Albert Gate mystery, to perdition for the next eight hours."
Notwithstanding his weariness, Brett rose early next morning. His
companion slept like a top, and the barrister had to shake the earl
soundly by the shoulder before the latter woke into conscious existence
and sat up in bed sleepily demanding--
"What's up? Where's the fire?"
"I want you to dress at once," said Brett cheerily, "and join me at
breakfast. You must leave for London by the 11.50 train."
"Am I such a nuisance then that I have to be packed off at a moment's
notice?" said the earl.
"By no means. Decidedly the contrary, in fact. As matters in France
evidently require persistent attention on my part for many days, perhaps
weeks, I think it is hardly fair to leave Talbot in confinement any
longer. Your mission is to restore your prospective brother-in-law to
the bosom of his family, and I regret that it is impossible for me to
accompany you."
"Are you serious, old chap?" was the startled answer. "What has happened
since one o'clock this morning to make you so confident?"
"Nothing that is not already known to you. Had I succeeded last night in
following Mlle. Beaucaire to her destination, I might have been able to
accompany you to London this morning. As it is, Heaven alone knows what
sort of dance she may lead me. However, you complete your toilette, my
dear fellow. I have ordered breakfast to be served in a quarter of an
hour. Then you can eat and listen."
During the first portion of the repast Brett seemed too busily engaged
to unburden his mind. It was not until he had lit a cigarette and pushed
his chair away from the table, so that he could assume a posture of
complete ease, that he commenced--
"You slept so soundly, Fairholme, that you have not had time to review
all the circumstances of yesterday's adventures. Otherwise I am sure you
would have reached the same conclusions as suggest themselves to me.
Curiously enough, although dog-tired when I went to bed, I woke about
seven o'clock feeling thoroughly rested both in mind and body. I
procured some coffee, took a bath, and went out for a stroll, with the
result that I returned and aroused you after reaching finality in some
of my conclusions, and deciding on a definite plan of action for both of
us."
"It is really very decent of you, Brett, to constantly assume that I can
see as far through a brick wall as you can, especially as you know quite
well that, although I am fairly well acquainted with all that happened
yesterday, the only tangible opinion I can offer is that the Paris
police interfered with you at a most inopportune moment."
Brett smiled. "That is because you have not accustomed yourself to
analysis," he said. "However, I will summarise my views, and if you can
find any flaws in my reasoning I will be glad. The first thing to
observe is that the diminutive Frenchman drew on himself the special
vengeance of the Turks when I exposed the attempt to foist on them a
collection of dummy diamonds. Yet he actually had the nerve to return to
the Rue Barbette later in the day. He has not been seen since, so the
little scoundrel is either dead or a prisoner in Hussein-ul-Mulk's flat.
As I cannot permit myself to participate in a murder or even in an
illegal imprisonment, I am regretfully compelled this morning to take
the police into my confidence and inform them of an obvious fact which
escaped their penetration yesterday."
Fairholme whistled.
"I must say," he cried, "I gave a passing thought to the incident myself
last evening when your spy reported that the Frenchman remained in No.
11 after the Turks had quitted it."
"Yes," said Brett. "You see, all you need to cultivate is the habit of
deduction, and you will soon become a capital detective."
The earl laughed. "I hope you will tell that to Edith," he said, "and
perhaps you may change her opinion concerning my reasoning capacities.
She thinks I am an awfully stupid chap as a rule."
"That is because she is in love with you," said Brett.
"Well, now, that remark puzzles me more than anything else you have
said." His lordship darted a quick look at the barrister in the
endeavour to learn whether or not he was in a chaffing mood.
"Why should a woman seek to depreciate anything she values?"
"Simply because it denotes a secure sense of complete ownership. Miss
Talbot would never hold such a view of your intellectual powers if you
were merely a friend."
"Well," said the earl dubiously, "that is a new point of view for me at
any rate."
"It is a fact nevertheless. But we have not much time, so we must
reserve any further consideration of feminine inconsistency. The fate of
the Frenchman must be determined to-day, and to decide the question I
must act through the police, so a conversation with our friend the
commissary becomes inevitable. And now to return to the hypothetical
part of my conclusions. I began by assuming that the individual who
planned the Albert Gate outrage and subsequently sought to bamboozle his
employers by palming off on them a set of spurious diamonds, is far too
acute to attempt to dispose of the real gems for many months yet to
come. He obtained sufficient funds from the Turks, in pursuance of what
may be termed the legitimate part of his contract, to enable him to live
for a considerable period without further excitement. Closely associated
with him in the present adventure is La Belle Chasseuse. Neither would
endeavour to procure safety by flight to a foreign country. They will
seek insignificance by living in a normal and commonplace manner. What
more easy, for instance, for Mademoiselle than to return to the life of
the circus, whilst her lover--granted that he wished to remain in her
company--will obtain some suitable employment in the same circle. There
is a suspicion of a joke in the statement, but I am quite serious. The
mere consciousness that they have in their possession a vast fortune,
which time alone will enable them to realize, will serve as an
inducement to undergo the period of hard work which means safety. You
remember that the lady's father, Gros Jean, visited the Gare de Lyon
yesterday?"
Fairholme nodded.
"I think you will find that he was depositing there the necessary
luggage for a contemplated trip into the interior, so that Mademoiselle
might slip out late at night quietly and unnoticed and join her lover at
some preconcerted rendezvous, a thing which we now know she did. I
cannot, of course, be certain whether the Frenchman who signalled to her
in the Café Noir was himself the favoured individual. It is possible. By
the way, what height is Talbot?"
"About five feet nine."
Brett pondered for a little while.
"Yes," he communed aloud, "I think I am right. That pink-and-white
Frenchman is the master mind in this conspiracy. And to think that the
unintelligent muscles of a couple of thick-headed French policemen
should have crudely interfered with me at such a moment!" He sighed
deeply.
"Never mind," he went on, "it cannot be helped. I must keep to the
thread of my story. Mademoiselle Beaucaire left the Cabaret shortly
after eleven o'clock. We cannot be certain that she went to the Gare de
Lyon, but the cab unquestionably set off in that direction. It is a long
drive from Montmartre to the Lyons station. We will give her, say, until
twelve o'clock to reach there. Now, unless she was journeying to some
suburban district--a contingency which upsets the whole of my
theory--there was no main line train leaving for the south until 1.5
a.m., and that is a slow train, stopping at nearly every station south
of Melun. Let us suppose that they guard against every contingency. She
and her companion wish to escape the scrutiny of detectives. It will at
once occur to you that they run far more risk of observation if
travelling by a fast express than if they elect to journey by the
commonplace trains which only serve the needs of country districts."
"It did not occur to me," said Fairholme candidly. "Still, there is a
lot in the idea all the same."
"Very well. To sum up, I imagine that the pair, providing the two
travelled together, would break their journey south at some quiet town
in the interior early in the morning, and subsequently proceed to their
destination by easy stages."
"I am still fogged as to what you mean by their destination?" said
Fairholme.
"I mean the circus, the music-hall, the café chantant, or whatever place
mademoiselle and her astute adviser may select as a safe haven wherein
to avoid police espionage during the many months which must ensue before
they dare to make the slightest effort to dispose of the purloined
diamonds."
"And how do you propose to follow them up?"
"I cannot tell at present. My movements depend upon the results of the
inquiries I shall make to-day in theatrical circles, and particularly at
the Gare de Lyon, where I shall not meet with success in any event until
the night staff comes on duty.
"The third item," continued Brett, "which demands attention in Paris is
the whereabouts of the Turks. They must be found and observed. My chief
difficulty will be to keep that delightful commissary from imprisoning
them, if, as I imagine, we find the little thief a captive in the Rue
Barbette. So you see my actions are speculative. Yours, on the other
hand, will be definite."
"Ah!" said Fairholme, "I am glad to hear that. If you expect me to
analyse and deduce and find out the probable movements of intelligent
rascals, I am sure I shall make a mess of things."
"You will reach London," said Brett, "at 7.30 p.m. I suppose you have in
your service a reliable servant, endowed with a fair amount of physical
strength?"
"Rather," cried the earl. "My butler is a splendid chap. He has been
fined half a dozen times for his exceeding willingness to settle
disputes with his fists."
"Telegraph to him to meet you at Charing Cross Station. I can depend
upon my man Smith to use his nerve and discretion. Moreover, he knows
Inspector Winter, of Scotland Yard, and should trouble arise, which I do
not anticipate, this acquaintance may be useful to you. The third person
who will meet you will be the ex-sergeant of police, whose report to me
you heard yesterday. He will point out to you the flat tenanted by the
invalid lady. You speak French well, and after a few questions you
should be able to satisfy yourself whether or not the person who opens
the door to you when you visit that flat is acting a genuine part. You
can pretend what you like, but if admission is denied to you I want you
to force your way inside and see that invalid lady at all costs. In the
event of a gross mistake having been committed you must apologize most
abjectly and assuage the wounded feelings of the servants with a liberal
donation, whilst the ex-sergeant of police will advise you as to any
other place which may demand personal inspection. I do not conceal from
you the difficulties of your task, or the chance that you may get into
trouble with the police. But the fact remains that Talbot, alive or
dead, is concealed somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Carlton Hotel,
and it is high time that this portion of the mystery attending his
disappearance should be made clear. Do you follow me?"
"Precisely," said Fairholme. "My programme appears to be very simple. I
am to kick down any door that is pointed out by the ex-policeman,
provided I am refused admission by fair means."
Brett laughed. "I think," he cried, "you have put my instructions in
very direct and succinct form. All I hope is that the invalid lady may
prove to be an elderly fraud. It only remains for me to give you my
blessing and say good-bye."
"But what about you?" said the earl anxiously. "Suppose we come across
Talbot to-night, as you anticipate, where shall I find you to-morrow?"
"You must telegraph to me here," was the answer, "and you must possess
your soul in patience until you hear from me.
"No, don't protest," he went on, as Fairholme gave indications of
impatience. "You need not fear that you will be left out of the
denouement, whatever it be. I am sure to need your help before long, and
I will cable you at the first possible moment. For that reason, should
you leave your house for more than hour or so, I hope you will make
special arrangements for telegrams to reach you without delay."
"You may rely on that," was the hearty answer. "But look here, Brett. It
is 10.45 a.m. now. If I have to catch that 11.50 train from the Gare du
Nord I have no time to lose. By the way," he added, turning at the door,
"is there any reason why I should not wire to Edith to expect me
to-night?"
"Not the slightest," said Brett, smiling, "except perhaps this, that
instead of calling on Miss Talbot this evening you may be locked up on
the charge of housebreaking."
"Um," said the earl, thoughtfully, "I had not thought of that. It will
be more fun to take her by surprise. So here goes to get my traps
packed."
After Lord Fairholme's departure, Brett took matters easily. He did not
put in an appearance at the Prefecture until late in the afternoon, and,
as he surmised, the commissary whom he encountered the previous night
had even then only just arrived at his office. Without any difficulty,
the barrister was introduced to the official, who evidently awaited an
explanation of the visit with great curiosity.
Brett's ill-humour at the uncalled-for interference of the police was
now quite dispelled, and he greeted the commissary with the genial
affability which so quickly won him the friendship of casual
acquaintances.
"I think," he began, "that your agents, monsieur, were watching me
throughout the whole of yesterday."
"That is so," nodded the other, wondering what pitfall lay behind this
leading question.
"Do I take it that after my departure from No. 11, Rue Barbette about
midday they maintained no further guard over that house?"
"Assuredly. It was monsieur's personal movements which called for
observation."
"Then you do not know that an individual whose identity may be much more
important than mine is an inmate of the apartment at this
moment--probably a captive against his will, possibly a corpse?"
The Frenchman's huge moustache bristled with alarm and annoyance.
"It is a strange thing, monsieur," he cried, "that an English gentleman
should come to Paris and know more about the movements and haunts of
criminals than the French police."
It was no part of Brett's design to rub the official the wrong way, so
he said gently--
"Your remark is quite justifiable, and under ordinary circumstances any
such pretence on my part would be ridiculous. But you must remember,
monsieur, that I came here from London possessed of special information
which was not known even to the police authorities in that city. I am
working solely in the private interest of persons high in English
Society, and it would not serve the purposes of any of the Governments
concerned were too much stress publicly laid on their connexion with
this mystery. If I can succeed in elucidating the problem it will be a
comparatively easy matter for the police to bring the real criminals to
justice. As a step towards that end I have come to you now to place you
in possession of a clue which may reveal itself in the Rue Barbette. All
I ask is, in the first instance, that the affair may be conducted with
the utmost secrecy, and, secondly, that you will permit me to be present
when you examine the person whom I expect to find there. I may be able
to help you very materially in your questions, provided the man is alive
and well."
The commissary was soothed. The barrister's judicial reference to the
importance and confidential nature of the inquiry raised in his mind a
dazzling vision of personal distinction and preferment.
"The matter shall be conducted with the utmost discretion," he cried.
"What force does monsieur consider to be requisite in order to examine
this house thoroughly, and prevent the attempted escape of others whom
we may find there in addition to the man described?"
Brett with difficulty repressed a smile. "I do not think that a large
force of police will be necessary. If you yourself, monsieur, and
another officer will accompany me in a cab, I am sure we will be able to
deal with all possible opposition. There is no exit from the flat save
through the main door, and the apartment is situated on the second
storey. Escape by way of the windows is practically impossible if we act
with promptitude."
The commissary could not reach the Rue Barbette too rapidly. He bundled
a subordinate into a _fiacre_, and the three were driven off at
breakneck speed.
They stopped the vehicle at the corner of the street and walked quietly
to the house, attracting no attention, as neither of the Frenchmen were
in uniform.
Inquiry from the _concierge_ elicited the information that none of the
occupants of the flat tenanted by the Turkish gentlemen had put in an
appearance since the previous afternoon. So the trio mounted the
staircase, and without any preliminary summons the junior official
applied his shoulder to the door.
The lock yielded quite readily. Indeed, the damage done by Lord
Fairholme was but temporarily repaired, and no special precaution had
been taken to fasten the place. All was quiet within. The first room
they searched was empty. So was the second; but in a bedroom, the door
of which was locked and required forcible treatment, an extraordinary
sight met their eyes.
Stretched on the bed, gagged and securely tied, was the figure of the
diminutive Frenchman, who, little more than twenty-four hours earlier,
had so coolly suggested that Brett should be murdered.
Stout leather thongs were fastened to his wrists and ankles and then
tied to the four uprights of the bed. His arms and legs were
consequently stretched widely apart, and the only sign of vitality about
the man was the terrible expression of fear and hate in his eyes as he
looked at them.
The gag stuffed in his mouth prevented him from uttering the slightest
coherent sound, whilst the agony of his frame owing to the position in
which he lay, joined to the exhaustion induced by terror and want of
food, rendered him a pitiable object.
They removed the gag and cut the bonds. The poor wretch remained on his
back unable to move, though he flinched somewhat when the police, as
gently as possible, loosened the leather straps from his wrists and
ankles, for his useless struggles had caused the thongs to cut deeply
into his skin.
Brett was the first to realize the unfortunate wretch's chief
requirement. He procured some water, raised the man's head, and allowed
him to take a deep and invigorating draught.
"Why, it is 'The Worm!'" said the junior policeman. "I know him well. He
is a pick-pocket, an expert rascal in his line, but hardly up to the
standard of great events."
At the sound of his nickname a flicker of intelligence came into the
little thief's eyes, but he was still dazed, and did not recognize his
rescuers.
"I don't care what you do with me," he murmured at last, in a weak and
cracked voice. "Kill me quietly if you want to, but don't tie me up
again. I have done nothing to deserve it. I really haven't. I have been
acting quite square in this business." And then he broke down and
whimpered further protestations of innocence.
"He is weak from want of food, and dazed with terror," said Brett
quietly. "I suggest that one of you should get him some meat and wine,
whilst the others remain here and endeavour to reassure him. In half an
hour he will be greatly recovered. Meanwhile we might examine the
place."
The commissary thought Brett's suggestion a good one. His assistant
summoned the _concierge_ and attended to the wants of "The Worm," whilst
Brett and the commissary conducted a careful scrutiny of the premises.
They found little, however, beyond a considerable accumulation of dirt;
for the ways of Turks are primitive and their habits unpleasant in
European households. If was evident that before taking their departure
the occupants of the flat had carefully removed or destroyed all
documents or other articles which might throw light on their
proceedings.
The leather thongs which bound the prisoner evoked some comment from the
barrister.
"These are somewhat unusual articles," he said to the commissary. "You
will notice that they are cut from raw cowhide and well stretched. In
other words, they are the familiar 'bow-strings' of Constantinople, and
warranted not to yield if twisted round the neck. I think they will
answer for other purposes than tying people to beds."
"We must find these Turks," said the commissary. "They are desperate
characters."
"Find them by all means," said Brett earnestly, "but on no account
arrest them."
"And why, monsieur?" cried the other, with elevated eyebrows.
"Because if you do you will paralyse our future actions. When all is
said and done, the only charge you can bring against them is a trivial
one. It is evident they merely tied up this man, either with the object
of frightening him into a confession, or to leave their hands free
whilst they dealt with his employers. Perhaps they had both objects in
view. In either event the appearance of the police on the scene would
close their mouths more tightly than an oyster. As it is, I expect they
will return, and, if possible, you must compel the _concierge_ to
conceal the fact that you have visited the house. Let him put all the
blame on me. They know that I am mixed up in the inquiry, and fear me
far less than the recognized authorities. Oblige me in this respect and
you will not regret it."
The policeman was wise enough to fall in with the suggestion.
An hour later "The Worm" was taken in a cab to the Prefecture, as his
condition was yet so hopeless that little real benefit could ensue from
a searching cross-examination.
So Brett parted company with the officials, having made an appointment
with the commissary for the next day at noon, when they assumed that the
prisoner would be considerably recovered from his weakness and fright.
The barrister subsequently made a round of the minor cafés in the
neighbourhood of the Cirque d'Hiver. After much casual questioning, he
elicited the information that a well-known circus, of which Mlle.
Beaucaire was at one time a shining light, was performing at that moment
at Marseilles. He ascertained that during the winter season this class
of entertainment perambulated the South of France and Northern Italy.
The actor from whom he gleaned these important facts said that he had a
trustworthy friend in Marseilles who would easily be able to ascertain
whether or not La Belle Chasseuse intended to rejoin her former
profession. Brett secured his hearty co-operation by a liberal donation
for expenses.
The barrister resolved to pay another visit to the Cabaret Noir late
that evening, but he waited in the hotel until nearly ten o'clock in
anxious expectation of a telegram from Fairholme.
At last the message arrived. Its contents were laconic.
"Right first time," it ran. "Invalid lady's name 'Jack.' Somewhat
exhausted, after long confinement. Edith delighted. Jack visits
Under-Secretary to-night. We all purpose joining you in Paris to-morrow.
Do you approve?"
Brett promptly wired, "Yes," and then set out for Montmartre, dressing
himself in the height of fashion so far as his wardrobe would permit,
and donning a fierce moustache and wig, which completely altered his
appearance. He looked like a successful impressario or popular Italian
tenor.