SAUNDERS SCORES
It lacked but five minutes to the hour of ten next morning when the
card of the Minister's secretary was handed to Father Murray. The
priest sent down a polite request for the visitor to come to his room,
and at once telephoned for Mark. Both men arrived at the same moment
and were introduced at the door. Father Murray, at Saunders' own
request, kept the detective in the background. Saunders had, in the
meantime, been learning all he could about the Ministry and its
interior--"for emergencies," he explained to Mark.
The secretary proceeded to business without delay.
"I have come on behalf of His Excellency," he said, "and to express his
regrets."
"I scarcely expected regrets," answered the priest; "for at ten o'clock
I was to have a definite answer."
"It is impossible, Reverend Sir, to give you that. His Excellency bade
me offer full assurance that a definite answer will not long be
delayed; but a somewhat unforeseen situation was found in Baltimore--a
situation that was unforeseen by you, though rather expected by His
Excellency."
"I cannot imagine," Father Murray spoke rather tartly, "what that
situation could be."
"Let me explain then." The secretary talked as one sure of his ground.
"I take it that neither Baron Griffin nor yourself, Reverend Sir, would
be at all interested in the movements of the Grand Duchess?"
"Not particularly," answered the priest.
"Then I am sorry to say that the dead girl in Baltimore is surely your
niece. The other--"
"At the Ministry--" Mark put in.
"Wherever she is," parried the secretary. "The other is the Grand
Duchess."
"Perhaps, Mr. Secretary," quietly suggested Father Murray, "you will
admit that I ought to know my own niece?"
"There is a great resemblance, Reverend Sir, between the two ladies. I
have seen the dead girl, and have examined her belongings. Her apparel
was made, it is true, in Paris; but your niece has recently been there.
Her bag bears the initials, 'R.A.' The mesh bag is plainly marked in
gold cut initials with the same letters. The dressing case is also
marked 'R.A.' Even the handkerchiefs are thus marked."
"As she was a guest of my niece, and of course left Killimaga very
hurriedly after the abduction," said Father Murray, "it is quite
probable that the Grand Duchess took the first clothes and other
effects that came to hand. She may even have purposely used things
belonging to Miss Atheson in order not to have anything in her
possession that might betray her identity."
"True, that is possible," the secretary admitted; "but it is not
probable enough to satisfy His Excellency. Without a doubt, he ought
to satisfy himself. In the meantime, while the doubt remains, it is
clear that your answer cannot be given."
"Suppose we place this matter, then," said the priest, "where the
answer will come in response to a demand? There is still the British
Embassy and the Department of State."
"It will be plain to you, Reverend Sir," said the secretary, "that such
a course would not be of assistance. Frankly, we do not want
publicity; but, certainly, neither does your Department of State. In
fact, I think that this affair might offer considerable embarrassment
to the President himself at this time. And you? Would you wish the
reporters to hear of it and have it published with all possible
embellishments and sent broadcast? A few days will not be long in
passing. I can vouch for the fact that the lady is quite comfortable.
Why not see it from His Excellency's point of view?"
"Just what is that point of view?"
"I will be frank. You gentlemen know the situation. His Excellency's
entire career is at stake. If this lady is the Grand Duchess and she
does not go back to her throne--"
"Her throne?" Mark broke out in astonishment.
"Her father is dead. She is the reigning Grand Duchess, though she
does not know it yet. You see the situation? His Excellency must be
sure."
"But how does he mean to arrive at certainty?" asked Father Murray.
"That will be our task."
"And in the meantime?"
"She is safe."
"And if we seek the Department of State?"
"It will be the word of the minister from a friendly power against
yours--and they will not find the lady."
"You would not--"
"They will not find the lady."
"Then," Mark spoke fiercely. "You have not kept your word."
"We have. She is safe, and shall be safe. Patience, if you please,
and all will be well."
"It looks," said Father Murray, "as though we had no other choice."
Mark glanced at the priest, astonished that he should acquiesce so
easily, but Father Murray gave him a quick, meaning look.
"That, Reverend Sir," answered the secretary, "is true. Since you see
it so, I will bid you good day--to meet you again, shortly."
Scarcely had the secretary left the room when Father Murray was at the
telephone calling Saunders.
"Come down," he directed, "at once."
Saunders was with them before either Mark or the priest spoke again.
"Well?" Saunders lost no time.
Father Murray gave him an outline of what had passed. Mark said
nothing. A picture of despair, he was sitting with his head bowed upon
his breast.
"And now, Mr. Saunders," said Father Murray, "it is your business to
counsel--to be a real detective. What do you suggest?"
"She is at the Ministry," said Saunders. "Let that be my first
statement. She is occupying a room which opens on a balcony of the
second floor. There is a guard in the next room, which also opens on
the same balcony. She is well watched. But I was in front of that
house three hours last night, and again this morning--rather, I was in
the house across the way. I had a good chance to communicate the news
of your arrival to her--"
"What!" Mark was on his feet now.
"It was simple. I did it this morning with a hand mirror. You
remember how bright the sun was about nine o'clock? Well, it was
shining right into the room where I was, and when I saw that she was
probably alone I caught the light on my little mirror and flashed the
reflection into her room. I juggled it about as oddly as I could,
flashing it across the book she was reading. Then I tried to make it
write a word on her wall. Perhaps you would like to know the word,
Baron?" He turned to Mark with a smile. "You would? Well, I tried to
write 'M-A-R-K.' I think she understood, for she turned toward the
window and seemed about to give me some signal. Then she raised her
hand in a quick motion of alarm and began reading again. I withdrew
the light, just in time, for some woman entered the room."
"I am afraid, Mr. Saunders," said Father Murray, "that you are
dangerous, being a very clever man."
"But how, in Heaven's name," asked Mark, "did you get into that house?
It is the home of--"
"Sure it is," answered Saunders. "Sure it is. But the family is away,
and they left only the chauffeur at the residence. Chauffeurs are fine
fellows--under certain circumstances. They have acquired the habit."
"The conditions," laughed Mark, "will, I suppose, appear in your
accounts?"
"In my accounts? Yes . . . . Now to the rest of the discussion. I do
not believe this affair can be arranged as easily as you think. It
looks to me as if they really believe they have the Grand Duchess, and
that we are trying to help her get away. They think she has planned
the whole thing and that we are part of the plan. Miss Ruth was with
Madam Neuville when they caught her. That's one point in their favor.
Then the Duchess had things belonging to Miss Ruth, and had them when
killed. That's point two for them. The face of Miss Ruth is the face
on the portraits of the Grand Duchess. There's point three for them;
and it is a fact that the face of the dead girl was slightly
disfigured, as you know. The Minister dare not make a slip. He is not
going to make one if he can help it. He will do something without
delay to avoid all danger of your interference. If you go to court,
you'll have publicity. If you go to the Department of State, their
delays would make interference too late. If you don't act quick you'll
have no chance to act at all. My advice is, to get into better
communication with the young lady and then--to do a bit of quiet
abduction ourselves."
"That's easy to say, Saunders," said Mark. "But how carry it out?"
"I'll have to think on that. But I'm sure it can be done." Saunders
spoke convincingly. "Let me work this thing out as best I can."
"We are in your hands, Mr. Saunders," said Father Murray, "and we trust
you."
"Thanks, Father, I'll do my best. Now let us go on--"
But at this moment the telephone bell rang. Father Murray answered the
call.
"It's for you, Mark."
Mark took the receiver, and listened for a moment.
"All right; send him up."
He turned to his companions. "A colored man who insists on seeing me
personally."
They had but a few minutes to wait. He came up with a bellboy and
stood before them, bowing low--a typical Southern darkey, his hair
whitened by age.
"Well, uncle, what can I do for you?" It was Mark who spoke.
"Well, sah, seein' as how I found a lettah addressed to you--"
"A letter?"
"Yes, sah." The old darkey was fumbling with his hat, trying to
withdraw the letter he had put away so carefully.
"I found it down the street, sah, neah one of them thar big for'n
houses."
"Where?" The word was almost shouted as Mark jumped to his feet.
But the trembling fingers had at last grasped and now held forth the
precious letter. Mark tore it open, and with a cry of glad surprise
began to devour its contents. When he had finished, he handed the
letter to Father Murray without a word, and turned to the darkey.
"Thank you, uncle. I am very glad you brought it."
"Yes, sah. I thought as how you might want to get it, seein' as how it
was a pretty young lady that threw it out."
"You saw her?"
"Yes, sah. I was right across the street, and she suah is pretty,
sah." The old man smiled and bowed as Mark gave him a bill. "Thank
you, sah; thank you, sah." And with a broad grin he left the room.
Father Murray was still reading the letter and Mark motioned to
Saunders to come to his side. Looking over the priest's shoulder, Mark
read the lines again:
"My Dear Mark: His Excellency isn't a very good housekeeper; I have
found an envelope in one of the books, and a tiny slip of blue-corded
pencil in the drawer of my dressing-table. I should like to pension
the man who first put fly-leaves in a book. Fortunately, my maid isn't
with me much, and the man in the yard can't see my front window because
of the tree. So I have only to listen to the guard in the next room.
He is always walking up and down, and when he reaches the uncarpeted
space near the door I know he is at the end and ready to turn back.
For that one second I can chance throwing this letter out into the
street. I shall load it with a cut-glass ball I found on my desk. It
is a beautiful little paper-weight, but its beauty won't save it this
time. Someone will surely take the letter to you. Where to find you
is my worry. But I know that the signal flashes could only mean that
you are in the city, so I am risking the New Willard.
"A warship has been sent to take the Grand Duchess home. I cannot
convince them that I am only Ruth Atheson. I am sure they are going to
send me away. You must get me out of this house quickly, or it will be
too late.
"Give me this special signal and I will be ready: At ten-thirty any
morning flash the light and keep it still on the top of the gate
pillar. Leave it there a moment; then flash it once across the top if
you are coming that day, or twice for night. If you receive this
letter, answer it by flashing the light into my room to-morrow morning.
I shall pray for friendly sunlight.
"Thank you for coming. I don't know how you found out, but somehow I
felt that you would. Love to the dear Father, if he is with you. I
feel pretty sure he is.
"Ruth."
Saunders was the first to speak.
"I think, Father," he said, "that you have a clever niece. This makes
things easy."
The Padre smiled. But Mark was not smiling--one can't do so little a
thing to show unbounded joy.