"TOUT VA BIEN"
Brett now deemed it advisable to take the commissary of police fully
into his confidence. The official promptly suggested that every
personage in Paris connected even remotely with the mystery--Gros Jean,
the Turks, the waiter at the Café Noir, and even the little thief "Le
Ver"--should be arrested and subjected to a _procès verbal_.
But Brett would not hear of this proceeding.
He quite firmly reminded the commissary that the wishes of the British
Government must be respected in this matter, and the proposed wholesale
arrests of persons, some of whom were in no way cognisant of the crime,
would assuredly lead to publicity and the appearance of sensational
statements in the Press.
"But, monsieur," cried the Frenchman, "something must be done. Even you,
I presume, intend to lay hands on the principal men. While they are
wandering about the country each hour makes it easier for them to
secrete the diamonds so effectually that no matter what may be the
result the Sultan will never recover his property."
"Calm yourself, I beg," said the barrister, with difficulty compelling
himself to reason with this excitable policeman. "You speak as though we
had in our hands every jot of evidence to secure the conviction of
Dubois and his associates before a judge."
"But is it not so?" screamed the other.
"No; it is very far from being so. Let us look at the facts. In the
first place the Turks will not speak. They are political fanatics. The
moment a policeman arrests them they become dumb. Torture would bring
nothing from them but lies. Then we have the two people who acted as Mr.
Talbot's gaolers. What charge can we prefer against them? Merely one of
illegal detention, whilst they would probably defend themselves by
saying that Talbot was represented to them as a lunatic whose restraint
was necessary for family reasons. Then we come to Dubois himself and the
fair Mlle. Beaucaire. In the first place, you may be certain that they
have provided a strong alibi to prove that they were in Paris on the
days when we are certain they were in London. Who can identify either of
them? The lady we rule out of court at once. The only persons who saw
her were Mr. Talbot and Captain Gaultier, the latter of whom has already
placed on record the statement that he would not recognize her again.
Talbot's evidence is stronger, but I would not like to hear him
subjected to the merciless cross-examination of an able counsel. As for
Dubois, there are two inspectors of police and a dozen intelligent
Metropolitan constables who would be forced to swear that he was not the
man who entered Albert Gate on the night of the murder in company with
the other Turks. I tell you candidly, monsieur, that in my opinion the
case would not only break down very badly, but Mr. Talbot would leave
the court under grave suspicion, whilst I would be regarded by the
public as a meddlesome idiot."
"Then what are we to do?" said the commissary, piteously throwing out
his hands and shrugging his shoulders with the eloquent French gesture
that betokens utter bewilderment.
"Difficult though it may be, we must first accomplish the main part of
our work. In other words, we must secure the diamonds before we collar
the murderers."
The Frenchman was silent for a moment. At last he said submissively--
"In what way can I help?"
"By procuring for me from the chief of your department an authorization
to call in the aid of the police when and where I may desire their
assistance. This, of course, will render necessary on his part some
inquiry before I am entrusted with such an important document. The
British Embassy in Paris and your own Foreign Office will quickly supply
you with the reasons why this power should be given to me."
"But what of the house of the Rue Bonbonnerie?"
"You anticipated my next request. Whilst you are looking to that letter
you must place at my disposal two of your most trusty agents. In their
company Lord Fairholme and I purpose visiting the house to-night."
They were conversing in the commissary's office at a late hour after
Brett had quitted his friend in the Grand Hotel.
[Illustration: Reginald Brett. --_Page 200._]
Within a few minutes the two Englishmen and their French companions were
standing outside No. 41, Rue Bonbonnerie, and they found that Monsieur
de Lisle kept a small shop, whose only significant feature was a placard
announcing that letters might be addressed there.
"Oh," said Brett, when he noticed this legend, "this is simple. We need
not waste much time here."
The four men walked inside, crowding the narrow space before a
diminutive counter. The proprietor was supping in style, as they could
perceive through the glass top of the door which communicated with the
sitting-room at the back. His feast consisted of a tankard of thin wine,
half a loaf of black bread, and two herrings.
The man was surprised by the sudden incursion of customers. He came out
looking puzzled and alarmed.
"Have you any letters here for Monsieur Jean Beaujolais?" said Brett.
"No, monsieur."
"Have you received any letters for a person of that name?"
"No, monsieur."
"I suppose you never heard the name of Jean Beaujolais before in your
life?"
"I think not, monsieur."
"Then," exclaimed Brett, turning quietly away, "I fear you must be
arrested. These two gentlemen"--and he nodded towards the
detectives--"will take you to the Prefecture, where perhaps your memory
may improve."
The man blanched visibly. His teeth chattered, and his hands shook as if
with ague, whilst he nervously arranged some small objects on the
counter.
"I cry your pardon, monsieur," he stammered, "but you will understand
that I receive letters at my shop for a small fee, and I cannot remember
the names of all my customers. I will search with pleasure among those
now in my possession to see if there are any for M. Beaujolais."
"You are simply incriminating yourself," said Brett sternly. "If your
excuse were a genuine one you would first have looked among your letters
before answering so glibly that the name of Beaujolais was unfamiliar."
"I beg of you to listen," cried the dismayed shopkeeper. "I had no idea
you were from the Prefecture, otherwise I would have answered you in the
first instance. There have been letters here for Monsieur Beaujolais.
They came from London. He called for them three or four times. The last
letter arrived yesterday morning. It is here now. I have not seen
Monsieur Beaujolais since the previous evening."
He took from a drawer a packet of letters tied together with string, and
the handwriting betrayed the contents of most of them. They evidently
dealt with that species of the tender passion which finds its outlet in
the agony column or in fictitious addresses.
One of the detectives did not trust to Monsieur de Lisle's examination.
He seized the bundle and went through its contents carefully, but this
time Monsieur de Lisle was speaking the truth.
There was only one letter addressed to Beaujolais, and it bore a foreign
postmark. Brett tore it open. It contained a single sheet of notepaper,
without a date or address, or any words save these, scrawled across the
centre--
"_Tout va bien_."
He placed the document and its envelope in his pocket-book, and then
fixed his keen glance on the shopkeeper's pallid face.
"What sort of a person is Monsieur Beaujolais?"
The man was still so nervous that he could hardly speak.
"I am not good at descriptions," he began.
So Brett helped.
"Was he a Frenchman, about my height, elegant in appearance, well built,
with long thin hands and straight tapering fingers, with very fair skin
and high colour, dark hair and large eyes set deeply beneath well-marked
eyebrows?"
"That is he to the life," cried the shopkeeper. "Monsieur must know him
well. I recall him now exactly, but I could not for a hundred francs
have described him so accurately."
"How long have you known him?" broke in Brett.
"Let me think," mused the man, who had now somewhat recovered from his
alarm. "He came here one day last week--I think it was Thursday, because
that day my daughter Marie--no matter what Marie did, I remember the
date quite well now. He came in and asked me if I did not receive
letters for a fee. I said 'Yes,' and told him that I charged ten
centimes per letter. He gave me his name, and thereafter called
regularly to obtain the enclosure from London. He always handed me half
a franc and would never take any change."
"Was he alone?"
"Invariably, monsieur."
"Thank you. You will not be arrested to-night. I think you have told the
truth."
The shopkeeper's protestations that he had given every assistance in
his power followed them into the street.
Brett dismissed the two detectives and returned to the hotel, where he
and Fairholme found Edith and her brother sitting up for them. When
Talbot heard the contents of the letter he remarked: "I suppose that
'All goes well' means that I am still a prisoner?"
"Undoubtedly," said the barrister. "The letter was posted in the
Haymarket. It came from your French host. I wonder what he will write
now? By the way, where is he? Did you lose sight of the couple after
your escape?"
"I did," laughed Talbot. "But Inspector Winter did not. By some
mysterious means he learnt all about Fairholme's action in smashing in
the door. Whilst I was at the Foreign Office that night he arrested both
the man and the woman."
"Winter is a perfect terror," said Brett. "He dreams of handcuffs and
penal servitude. I hope this couple will not be brought to trial, or at
any rate that your name will not be mixed up in it."
"Oh, no. As soon as I heard the Under-Secretary's wishes, I promptly
communicated with Scotland Yard. The Frenchman and his wife will be
remanded on a mysterious charge of abetting a felony and held in durance
vile until their testimony is wanted, should we ever capture Dubois."
At Brett's request, detectives were hunting through Paris all that night
and the next day for a sign of Hussein-ul-Mulk and his Turkish friends.
But these gentlemen had vanished as completely as if the earth had
swallowed them up.
This was a strange thing. Although Paris is a cosmopolitan city, a party
of Turks, only one of whom could speak French, should be discovered
with tolerable rapidity in view of the fact that the French police
maintain such a watch upon the inhabitants.
It was not until Brett and his four companions quitted the train at
Marseilles late at night and the barrister received a telegram from the
commissary announcing that the search made by the police had yielded no
results, that he suddenly recalled the existence of a doorless and
windowless room in the Café Noir.
Curiously enough, he had omitted to make any mention of this strange
apartment in his recital to the official. He would not trust to the
discretion of the Telegraph Department, so on reaching the Hotel du
Louvre et de la Paix he succeeded, after some difficulty, in ringing up
the commissary on the long-distance telephone.
Having acquainted the police officer with the exact position of the
hidden apartment, he ended by saying--
"Continue inquiries throughout Paris during the whole of to-morrow. Do
not visit the Cabaret Noir for the purpose of police inspection until a
late hour--long after midnight--when the café is empty and the Boulevard
comparatively deserted. It is only a mere guess on my part. The Turks
may not be there. If they are, they should be set at liberty and not
questioned. Tell them they owe their escape to me. If you do not find
them you may make other discoveries of general interest to the police.
But above all things, I do not wish you to interfere with Gros Jean or
his house until the next twenty-four hours have elapsed."
The commissary assured him that his desires would be respected, and soon
afterwards Brett went upstairs with the full determination to secure a
long and uninterrupted night's sleep, of which he stood much in need.
He had reached the sitting-room reserved for the use of the party when
Talbot and Lord Fairholme burst in excitedly.
"We have seen her!" gasped the earl.
"Seen whom?" demanded the barrister.
"Mademoiselle Beaucaire," cried Talbot; "the woman who accompanied
Dubois in his flight from London. I recognized her instantly. I could
pick her out among a million as the same person who so coolly made up
Dubois to represent me, whilst I was lying tied on the bed in that
flat."
In their eagerness the two men had forgotten to close the door. Brett
ran to it, and looked out into the passage to learn if their words had
perchance been overheard. No one was in sight. He closed the door behind
him when he re-entered the room, and said quietly--
"How did you happen to meet her?"
"Whilst you were wrestling with the telephone," said Fairholme, "Edith
and Jack and I went to the door of the hotel to have a look at the
people passing in the Cannebiere. None of us have ever been in
Marseilles before, you know. We were gazing at the crowd, when suddenly
Jack gripped my arm and said: 'There she is! Look at that woman, quick!'
He pointed to a tall, well-dressed female, wrapped up in a fur cloak,
and wearing a large feather hat. Luckily her veil was up, and the
electric light fell fully on her as she passed. She was undoubtedly La
Belle Chasseuse, and I bet you anything you like she had just come away
from the music-hall where she is performing."
"Did she see you?" demanded Brett excitedly.
"Not a bit; she was gazing at the passing tramcars, and evidently on
the look-out for some particular line."
"What happened next?" demanded the barrister. "Where is Miss Talbot?"
"Edith has gone after her," said Fairholme.
"What!" cried Brett, more startled than he cared to own.
"Yes," broke in Talbot eagerly. "She heard my words and instantly
decided to follow her. She said that the woman knew both of us, and
might easily detect us, but she, Edith, was unknown to her, and would
never be suspected. She simply forced us to come and tell you, and then
darted off like a greyhound before we could stop her."
Brett forced himself to say calmly--
"I always knew that Miss Talbot had brains, but still I wish she had not
taken this risk. Nevertheless, your chance discovery and her prompt
action may be invaluable to us."
"But what must we do?" exclaimed the impetuous Fairholme. "We cannot
allow Edith to go wandering around Marseilles by herself at this hour of
the night. I have always heard that this town is a perfectly damnable
place. What a fool I was not to follow her at once."
"Miss Talbot has acted quite rightly," said Brett decisively. "We must
simply remain here until she returns. There is not the slightest ground
for alarm. A woman who could act with such ready judgment is well able
to take care of herself. Unless I am much mistaken, we shall see her
within the hour."
It was well for the peace of mind of the younger men that Sir Hubert
Fitzjames had gone to his room soon after the party reached the hotel.
Had the irascible baronet known of his niece's mission, no power on
earth could have restrained him from setting every policeman in
Marseilles on her track forthwith.
And so they kept their vigil, striving to talk unconcernedly, but
watching the clock with feverish impatience until Edith should return.