"Yes, she's here, in Paris."
He bent forward quickly, regarding me curiously.
"That's strange. How long has she been here?" he inquired with a rather
puzzled look.
"Only a few days. I did not know that she was here till yesterday," I
replied with affected carelessness.
"Ah, I thought she could not have been here long."
"Why?"
"Because only a week ago she travelled in the same compartment as myself
between Berlin and Cologne."
"And did you claim acquaintance with her?" I inquired quickly.
"No. She had a companion with her--a pimply-faced, ugly Johnnie, whom I
took to be a German. They spoke in German all the time."
Could it be, I wondered, that Yolande and her companion had travelled
with Anderson with some evil intent?
"Didn't you speak to them?"
"The man tried to open a conversation with me, but I pretended to be
Italian, without any knowledge of German or English, so he didn't get
very far. To affect Italian is generally a sure game, for so few people
speak it in comparison with those who know other Continental languages."
"You wanted to overhear their conversation--eh?"
"I wanted to ascertain what their game was," answered the Queen's
messenger. "They eyed my despatch-box very curiously; and it was to me
an extremely suspicious circumstance that although they joined the train
at Berlin they did not enter my compartment until an hour later, when
the express stopped to change engines."
"You were alone?"
"Yes, and it was at night," he answered, adding: "To me it was also a
curious circumstance that only three days afterwards Kaye should become
so deeply interested in her. I had never seen her from that night in
Brussels until we had met in the train, but I've a good memory for
faces. I can swear I was not mistaken."
"You speak as though you suspected her," I said, looking straight into
his ruddy countenance, which had grown unusually serious while we had
been speaking.
"Well, to tell the truth, I did suspect her," he responded. "I didn't
half like the look of the man. He was well-dressed, but as you know
I've always a sharp eye where my fellow-travellers are concerned, and I
felt certain that there was something shady about him. They shifted
about all night, and were constantly watching to see whether I had gone
to sleep. But all their watching was without reward. Jack Anderson
never sleeps while he has a crossed despatch upon him;" and he blew a
cloud of smoke upward from his lips.
"But surely you don't think that their intention was to steal your
despatches?" I cried.
"They were welcome to the whole collection in the box," he laughed.
"They were only consular reports and necessary evils of that sort. What
they wanted was the crossed despatch from Berlin that I had in my belt
next my skin."
"They made no attempt to get at it?"
"Yes, they did. That's just where my suspicion was proved."
"How?" I asked breathlessly, bending eagerly towards him.
"Well, as you know, I always carry among my wraps a little cushion
covered with black satin. Experience has taught me that that cushion
has saved me many an aching head and stiff neck when on long journeys.
So I placed it behind my head, and through the night read a novel by the
dim, uncertain light. About two o'clock in the morning we ran into
Hanover, and I got out to get a drink. When I returned, however, and
placed the cushion behind my head, I felt a slight dampness upon it. In
an instant suspicion seized me. Some liquid had been sprinkled upon it
in my absence. My two fellow-travellers, wrapped in their rugs, were
apparently sleeping. At once I resolved to act with caution, and,
turning my cheek towards the pillow, smelt it. There was a curious
odour, sweet and subtle, like some new perfume. I had suspected
chloroform, but it was certainly not that. Yet almost the instant after
I had inhaled it a curious and unaccountable drowsiness seized me. Then
I knew the truth. They had plotted to render me insensible and
afterwards steal the despatch! I struggled against this feeling of
weariness, and, rising to my feet, buttoned my overcoat as though I were
chilly. This action allowed the cushion to fall away from my head, and,
again re-seating myself, I made a feint of being interested in my book;
but in reality my head was awhirl, and in the pocket of my ulster I had
my hand upon my revolver, ready to use it should that pimply-faced
ruffian attempt violence. The pair commenced to shift about uneasily in
their seats, and I could see that their failure had considerably
disconcerted them."
"You gave them no idea that you had discovered their intentions?"
"None whatever. I was anxious to see how they would act after being
foiled."
"Well, what did they do?"
"They exchanged glances of annoyance, but spoke no word. They were
silent for over an hour, during which time it occurred to me to move the
cushion farther from me, in case the evaporation of the mysterious
liquid should cause insensibility. I was determined that your pretty
little friend's companion should be the first to be thus affected. The
feeling of drowsiness, however, wore off, and at Cologne the pair, after
chatting in German regarding the train to Venlo, bustled about hastily
and descended. They had no baggage, and went into the buffet to
breakfast."
"You, of course, continued your journey?"
"Yes, to Ostend and London."
"It seems as though you had rather a narrow escape," I observed
thoughtfully.
"It was a daring attempt to get at that despatch," he remarked with some
warmth. "Depend upon it, my dear Ingram, that woman is a spy. I know
she's a friend of yours, but I can't help saying just what I think."
"But I can't believe it!" I declared. "Indeed, I won't believe it!" I
added vehemently.
"As you like," he said coldly, with a slight shrug of his broad
shoulders. "I've told you the plain truth as to what occurred."
"She's wealthy, and of one of the best families in Belgium. There is no
necessity whatever for her to be in the pay of any foreign Government,"
I protested.
"We have nothing to do with her reasons," he said. "All we know is that
she and her companion tried to drug me in order to get at the despatch."
"You have no idea, I suppose, of the contents of the despatch in
question?" I inquired.
"None, except that when I gave it into the Chief's own hands in his
private room at Downing Street, he appeared to be very much surprised by
its contents, and at once wrote a reply, with which I posted back to
Berlin by the same night's mail from Charing Cross."
"Then it was upon a matter of importance?"
"I judged it to be of extreme importance. Yolande de Foville was
evidently well aware that I had the despatch in my belt."
"You had never before seen this man who accompanied her?"
"Never. But now he has made one attempt it is quite probable he may
make another. I'm on the look-out for him again."
"And the cushion? Have you discovered what they placed upon it?"
"I left it in London with Dr. Bond, the analyst, at Somerset House.
He's trying to discover the liquid used. I hope he will be successful,
for the stuff was so potent that I have no desire for it again to be
sprinkled upon my belongings."
"They were at least ingenious," I exclaimed, amazed at this
extraordinary story, which seemed to prove so conclusively the truth of
Kaye's denunciation.
Yet I could not believe that Yolande, my charming little friend, in whom
I had in the old days reposed so many confidences, and by whose side I
had lingered through many idle hours in the Bois or in that almost
endless forest around her feudal home, was actually a spy. The
suggestion seemed too absurd. Nevertheless, Kaye was not a man to make
unfounded charges, nor was Anderson given to relating that which was
untrue. Truth to tell, this story of his held me absolutely
dumbfounded. I recollected my conversation with her an hour ago, and
the strange effect my announcement that Wolf was in Paris had made upon
her. She had implored me to save her. Why?
A silence fell between us. I was preoccupied by my own thoughts. But a
few moments later the Queen's messenger again glanced at his watch, and,
rising, said:
"I must be off, or I shan't catch the Orient. Any message for them down
at Constantinople?"
"No," I responded, gripping his strong hand in farewell. "Take care of
yourself, and don't let any of those confounded spies get at you again."
"Trust me, my dear fellow," he laughed, and lighting another cigarette
he went forth on his long journey to the East as airily as though he
were strolling down to get a cocktail at Henry's.
When he had gone I sat for a long time thinking. A remembrance of the
mad love of those days that had gone came back to me, sweet, charming
memories of that half-forgotten time when Yolande was my ideal, and when
her lips met mine in tender, passionate caresses. Ah! how fondly I had
loved her in those days! But with an effort I at last arose, and,
casting all those reflections behind me with a sigh, broke the seals of
the despatch-box, and, seating myself at the big writing-table,
commenced to examine them with a view to ascertaining their contents.
There were several important papers, and very soon I became absorbed in
them. Nearly an hour later there came a sudden rap at the door, and one
of the English footmen entered, saying:
"There is a man below, sir, who wishes to see you at once on important
business. He says he is valet-de-chambre of the Countess de Foville."
"Of the Countess de Foville!" I echoed, much surprised.
I at once ordered him to be shown upstairs, and a few moments later a
tall, thin-faced, clean-shaven Frenchman entered.
"M'sieur Ingram?" he inquired breathlessly in French, evidently in a
state of great agitation.
"Yes," I said. "What is your message?"
"I have been sent by Madame la Comtesse to ask you to be good enough to
come to her at once. A most distressing incident has occurred."
"What has occurred?" I demanded quickly.
"Ah, m'sieur, it is terrible!" he cried with much Gallic gesticulation.
"Poor Mademoiselle Yolande! She is asking to see you. She says she
must speak with you, m'sieur."
"With me?"
"Yes, m'sieur. Do not let us lose a single instant, or it may be too
late. Ah! my poor young mistress! Poor mademoiselle! it is terrible--
terrible!"