I Beard the Lion
Martigny was lying back in his berth, smoking a cigarette, and, as I
entered, he motioned me to a seat on the locker against the wall.
"It was most kind of you to come," he said, with his old smile.
"It was only by accident I learned you were on board," I explained, as
I sat down. "You're getting better?"
"I believe so; though this physician is--what you call--an
alarmist--most of them are, indeed; the more desperate the illness,
the more renowned the cure! Is it not so? He has even forbidden me
cigarettes, but I prefer to die than to do without them. Will you not
have one?" and he motioned to the pile that lay beside him.
"Thank you," I said, selected one, and lighted it. "Your cigarettes
are not to be resisted. But if you are so ill, why did you attempt
the voyage? Was it not imprudent?"
"A sudden call of business," he explained airily; "unexpected
but--what you call--imperative. Besides, this bed is the same as any
other. You see, I have a week of rest."
"The doctor--it was he who mentioned your name to me--it was not on
the sailing-list----"
"No." He was looking at me sharply. "I came on board at the last
moment--the need was ver' sudden, as I have said. I had not time to
engage a stateroom."
"That explains it. Well, the doctor told me that you were bed-fast."
"Yes--since the voyage began I have not left it. I shall not arise
until we reach Havre to-morrow."
I watched him as he went through the familiar motion of lighting a
second cigarette from the first one. In the half-light of the cabin,
I had not at first perceived how ill he looked; now, I saw the dark
patches under the eyes, the livid and flabby face, the shaking hand.
And for the first time, with a little shock, I realized how near he
had been to death.
"But you, Mistair Lester," he was saying, "how does it occur that you
also are going to France? I did not know you contemplated----"
"No," I answered calmly, for I had seen that the question was
inevitable and I even welcomed it, since it gave me opportunity to get
my guns to going. "No; the last time I saw you, I didn't contemplate
it, but a good deal has happened since then. Would you care to hear?
Are you strong enough to talk?"
Oh, how I relished tantalizing him!
"I should like very exceedingly to hear," he assured me, and shifted
his position a little, so that his face was in the shadow. "The beams
of light through the shutter make my eyes to hurt," he added.
So he mistrusted himself; so he was not finding the part an easy one,
either! The thought gave me new courage, new audacity.
"You may remember," I began, "that I told you once that if I ever went
to work on the Holladay case, I'd try first to find the murderess. I
succeeded in doing it the very first day."
"Ah!" he breathed. "And after the police had failed! That was, indeed,
remarkable. How did you accomplish it?"
"By the merest chance--by great good fortune. I was making a search of
the French quarter, house by house, when, on Houston Street, I came to
a restaurant, the Café Jourdain. A bottle of supérieur set Jourdain's
tongue to wagging; I pretended I wanted a room; he dropped a word, the
merest hint; and, in the end, I got the whole story. It seems there
was not only one woman, there were two."
"Yes?"
"Yes--and a man whose name was Betuny or Bethune, or something like
that. But I didn't pay much attention to him--he doesn't figure in the
case. He didn't even go away with the women. The very day I set out on
my search, he was picked up on the streets somewhere suffering with
apoplexy and taken to a hospital, so nearly dead that it was a
question whether he would recover. So he's out of it. The Jourdains
told me that the women had sailed for France."
"You will pardon me," said my hearer, "but in what way did you make
sure that they were the women you desired?"
"By the younger one's resemblance to Miss Holladay," I answered, lying
with a glibness which surprised myself. "The Jourdains maintained that
a photograph of Miss Holladay was really one of their lodger."
I heard him draw a deep breath, but he kept his face under admirable
control.
"Ah, yes," he said. "That was exceedingly clever. I should never have
thought of that. That is worthy of Monsieur Lecoq. And so you follow
them to France--but, surely, you have some more--what you
call--definite address than that, Mistair Lester!"
I could feel his eyes burning out from the shadows; I was thankful for
the cigarette--it helped me to preserve an indifferent countenance.
"No," I said. "It seems rather a wild-goose chase, doesn't it? But you
could advise me, Mr. Martigny. Where would it be best for me to search
for them?"
He did not answer for a moment, and I took advantage of the
opportunity to select a second cigarette and light it. I dared not
remain unoccupied; I dared not meet his eyes; I trembled to see that
my hand was not wholly steady.
"That," he began slowly, at last, "seems to me a most--ah!--deeficult
affair, Mistair Lester. To search for three people through all
France--there seems little hope of success. Yet I should think it most
likely that they have gone to Paris."
I nodded. "That was my own theory," I agreed. "But to find them in
Paris, seems also impossible."
"Not if one uses the police," he said. "It could, most probably, be
soon achieved, if you requested the police to assist you."
"But, my dear sir," I protested. "I can't use the police. Miss
Holladay, at least, has committed no crime; she has simply chosen to
go away without informing us."
"You will permit me to say, then, Mistair Lester," he observed, with
just a touch of irony, "that I fail to comprehend your anxiety
concerning her."
I felt that I had made a mis-step; that I had need to go carefully.
"It is not quite so simple as that," I explained. "The last time we
saw Miss Holladay, she told us that she was ill, and intended to go to
her country home for a rest. Instead of going there, she sailed for
France, without informing anyone--indeed, doing everything she could
to escape detection. That conduct seems so eccentric that we feel in
duty bound to investigate it. Besides, two days before she left she
received from us a hundred thousand dollars in cash."
I saw him move uneasily on his bed; after all, this advantage of mine
was no small one. No wonder he grew restless under this revelation of
secrets which were not secrets!
"Ah!" he said softly; and again, "Ah! Yes, that seems peculiar. Yet,
perhaps, if you had waited for a letter----"
"Suppose we had waited, and there had been no letter--suppose, in
consequence of waiting, we should be too late?"
"Too late? Too late for what, Mistair Lester? What is it you fear for
her?"
"I don't know," I answered; "but something--something. At least, we
could not assume the responsibility of delay."
"No," he agreed; "perhaps not. You are doubtless quite right to
investigate. I wish you success--I wish that I myself might aid you,
there is so much of interest in the case to me; but I fear that to be
impossible. I must rest--I who have so many affairs calling me, so
little desire to rest! Is not the fate ironical?"
And he breathed a sigh, which was doubtless genuine enough.
"Will you go to Paris?" I asked.
"Oh, no; not at once. At Havre I shall meet my agent and transact my
affairs with him. Then I shall seek some place of quiet along the
coast."
"Yes," I said to myself, with leaping heart, "Etretat!" But I dared
not speak the word.
"I shall write to you," he added, "when I have settled. Where do you
stay at Paris?"
"We haven't decided yet," I said.
"We?" he repeated.
"Didn't I tell you? Mr. Royce, our junior partner, is with me--he's
had a breakdown in health, too, and needed a rest."
"It is no matter where you stay," he said; "I shall write to you at
the _poste restante_. I should like both you and your friend to be my
guests before you return to Amer-ric'."
There was a courtesy, a cordiality in his tone which almost disarmed
me. Such a finished scoundrel! It seemed a shame that I couldn't be
friends with him, for I enjoyed him so thoroughly.
"We shall be glad to accept," I answered, knowing in my heart that the
invitation would never be made. "You're very kind."
He waved his hand deprecatingly, then let it fall upon the bed with a
gesture of weariness. I recognized the sign of dismissal. I was ready
to go; I had accomplished all I could hope to accomplish; if I had
not already disarmed his suspicions, I could never do so.
"I am tiring you!" I said, starting up. "How thoughtless of me!"
"No," he protested; "no"; but his voice was almost inaudible.
"I will go," I said. "You must pardon me. I hope you will soon be
better," and I closed the door behind me with his murmured thanks in
my ears.
It was not till after dinner that I found opportunity to relate to
Miss Kemball the details of my talk with Martigny. She listened
quietly until I had finished; then she looked at me smilingly.
"Why did you change your mind?" she asked.
"The adventure tempted me--those are your own words. I thought perhaps
I might be able to throw Martigny off the track."
"And do you think you succeeded?"
"I don't know," I answered doubtfully. "He may have seen clear through
me."
"Oh, I don't believe him superhuman! I believe you succeeded."
"We shall know to-morrow," I suggested.
"Yes--and you must keep up the deception till the last moment.
Remember, he will be watching you. He mustn't see you take the train
for Etretat."
"I'll do my best," I said.
"And don't make mountains out of mole-hills. You see, you've been
distrusting yourself needlessly. One mustn't be too timid!"
"Do you think I'm too timid?" I demanded, eager instantly to prove the
contrary.
But she saw the light in my eyes, I suppose, for she drew away, almost
imperceptibly.
"Only in some things," she retorted, and silenced me.
The evening passed and the last day came. We sighted land soon after
breakfast--the high white cliffs of Cape La Hague--vague at first, but
slowly lifting as we plowed on into the bay, with the crowded roofs of
Havre far ahead.
I was standing at the rail beside Miss Kemball, filled with the
thought of our imminent good-by, when she turned to me suddenly.
"Don't forget Martigny," she cautioned. "Wouldn't you better see him
again?"
"I thought I'd wait till we landed," I said; "then I can help him off
the boat and see him well away from the station. He's too ill to be
very lively on his feet. We shouldn't have any trouble dodging him."
"Yes; and be careful. He mustn't suspect Etretat. But look at that
clump of houses yonder--aren't they picturesque?"
They _were_ picturesque, with their high red roofs and yellow gables
and striped awnings; yet I didn't care to look at them. I was glad to
perceive what a complicated business it was, getting our boat to the
quay, for I was jealous of every minute; but it was finally
accomplished in the explosive French manner, and after a further short
delay the gang-plank was run out.
"And now," said my companion, holding out her hand, "we must say
good-by."
"Indeed, not!" I protested. "See, there go your mother and Royce.
They're evidently expecting us to follow. We'll have to help you with
your baggage."
"Our baggage goes through to Paris--we make our declarations there."
"At least, I must take you to the train."
"You are risking everything!" she cried. "We can say good-by here as
well as on the platform."
"I don't think so," I said.
"I have already said good-by to all my other friends!"
"But I refuse to be treated just like all the others," and I started
with her down the gang-plank.
She looked at me from the corner of her eyes, her lips trembling
between indignation and amusement.
"Do you know," she said deliberately, "I am beginning to fear that you
are obstinate, and I abhor obstinate people."
"I'm not at all obstinate," I objected. "I'm simply contending for my
rights."
"Your rights?"
"My right to be with you as long as I can, for one."
"Are there others?"
"Many others. Shall I enumerate them?"
"No," she said, "we haven't time. Here is mother."
They were to take the company's special train to Paris, which was
waiting on the wharf, two hundred feet away, and we slowly pushed our
way toward it. In the clamor and hurry and confusion wholly Latin,
there was no chance for intelligent converse. The place was swarming
with people, each of them, as it seemed to me, on the verge of
hysteria. Someone, somewhere, was shouting "_En voiture!_" in a
stentorian voice. Suddenly, we found our way blocked by a uniformed
official, who demanded to see our tickets.
"You can't come any farther, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Kemball, turning
to us. "We'll have to say good-by," and she held out her hand. "But
we'll soon see you both again in Paris. You have the address?"
"Oh, yes!" I assured her; I felt that there was no danger of my ever
forgetting it.
"Very well, then; we shall look for you," and she shook hands with
both of us.
For an instant, I felt another little hand in mine, a pair of blue
eyes smiled up at me in a way----
"Good-by, Mr. Lester," said a voice. "I shall be all impatience till
we meet again."
"So shall I," and I brightened. "That was nice of you, Miss Kemball."
"Oh, I shall be anxious to hear how you succeeded," she retorted. "You
will bring Miss Holladay to us?"
"If we find her, yes."
"Then, again, good-by."
She waved her hand, smiling, and was lost in the crowd.
"Come on, Lester," said Mr. Royce's voice. "There's no use standing
staring here. We've got our own journey to look after," and he started
back along the platform.
Then, suddenly, I remembered Martigny.
"I'll be back in a minute," I called, and ran up the gang-plank. "Has
M. Martigny left the ship yet?" I inquired of the first steward I met.
"Martigny?" he repeated. "Martigny? Let me see."
"The sick gentleman in 375," I prompted.
"Oh, yes," he said. "I do not know, monsieur."
"Well, no matter. I'll find out myself."
I mounted to the upper deck, and knocked at the door of 375. There was
no response. After a moment, I tried the door, but it was locked. The
window, however, was partly open, and, shading my eyes with my hands,
I peered inside. The stateroom was empty.
A kind of panic seized me as I turned away. Had he, indeed, seen
through my artifice? In attempting to blind him, had I merely
uncovered my own plan? Or--and my cheeks burned at the thought!--was
he so well intrenched that he had no fear of me? Were his plans so
well laid that it mattered not to him whither I went or what I did?
After all, I had no assurance of success at Etretat--no proof that the
fugitives had gone there--no reasonable grounds to believe that we
should find them. Perhaps, indeed, Paris would be a better place to
look for them; perhaps Martigny's advice had really been well meant.
I passed a moment of heart-rending uncertainty; I saw quite clearly
what a little, little chance of success we had. But I shook the
feeling off, sought the lower deck, and inquired again for Martigny.
At last, the ship's doctor told me that he had seen the sick man
safely to a carriage, and had heard him order the driver to proceed to
the Hotel Continental.
"And, frankly, Mr. Lester," added the doctor, "I am glad to be so well
rid of him. It is most fortunate that he did not die on the voyage. In
my opinion, he is very near the end."
I turned away with a lighter heart. From a dying man there could not
be much to fear. So I hunted up Mr. Royce, and found him, finally,
endeavoring to extract some information from a supercilious official
in a gold-laced uniform.
It was, it seemed, a somewhat complicated proceeding to get to
Etretat. In half an hour, a train would leave for Beuzeville, where we
must transfer to another line to Les Ifs; there a second transfer
would be necessary before we could reach our destination. How long
would it take? Our informant shrugged his shoulders with fine
nonchalance. It was impossible to say. There had been a heavy storm
two days before, which had blown down wires and damaged the little
spur of track between Les Ifs and the sea. Trains were doubtless
running again over the branch, but we could not, probably, reach
Etretat before morning.
Amid this jumble of uncertainties, one definite fact remained--a train
was to leave in half an hour, which we must take. So we hurried back
to the boat, made our declaration, had our boxes examined
perfunctorily and passed, bought our tickets, saw our baggage
transferred, tipped a dozen people, more or less, and finally were
shut into a compartment two minutes before the hour.
Then, in that first moment of inactivity, the fear of Martigny came
back upon me. Had he really gone to the hotel? Had he deemed us not
worth watching? Or had he watched? Was he on the train with us? Was he
able to follow? The more I thought of him, the more I doubted my
ability to deceive him.
I looked out cautiously from the window, up and down the platform, but
saw no sign of him, and in a moment more we rattled slowly away over
the switches. I sank back into my seat with a sigh of relief. Perhaps
I had really blinded him!
An hour's run brought us to Beuzeville, where we were dumped out,
together with our luggage, in a little frame station. An official
informed us that we must wait there three hours for the train for Les
Ifs. Beyond that? He could not say. We might possibly reach Etretat
next day.
"How far is Les Ifs from here?" inquired my companion.
"About twelve kilometers, monsieur."
"And from there to Etretat?"
"Is twenty kilometers more, monsieur."
"Thirty-two kilometers altogether," said Mr. Royce. "That's about
twenty miles. Why can't we drive, Lester? We ought to cover it easily
in three hours--four at the most."
Certainly it seemed better than waiting on the uncertain railway, and
we set at once about the work of finding a vehicle. I could be of
little use, since English was an unknown tongue at Beuzeville, and
even Mr. Royce's French was sorely taxed, but we succeeded at last in
securing a horse and light trap, together with a driver who claimed to
know the road. All this had taken time, and the sun was setting when
we finally drove away northward.
The road was smooth and level--they manage their road-making better in
France--and we bowled along at a good rate past cultivated fields with
little dwellings like doll-houses dotted here and there. Occasionally
we passed a man or woman trudging along the road, but as the darkness
deepened, it became more and more deserted. In an hour and a half from
Beuzeville we reached Les Ifs, and here we stopped for a light supper.
We had cause to congratulate ourselves that we had secured a vehicle
at Beuzeville, for we learned that no train would start for Etretat
until morning. The damage wrought by the storm of two days before had
not yet been repaired, the wires were still down, and we were warned
that the road was badly washed in places.
Luckily for us, the moon soon arose, so that we got forward without
much difficulty, though slowly; and an hour before midnight we pulled
up triumphantly before the Hotel Blanquet, the principal inn of
Etretat. We lost no time in getting to bed; for we wished to be up
betimes in the morning, and I fell asleep with the comforting belief
that we had at last eluded Monsieur Martigny.