It would be difficult to describe the feelings of annoyance and chagrin
which swept over Richard Duvall as he tossed the box of Monsieur
Perrier's rice powder over the side of the vessel and watched it float
for a moment on the crest of a wave before being swept into the
darkness. He glanced for an instant at his companion, then turned away
as he saw the latter's stare of astonishment and dismay. He wanted to be
alone, to think out this matter for himself.
With a confusion of ideas racing through his brain he began to pace the
deck, trying to discover wherein his reasoning had been at fault. He
went back to the gruesome scene at the house of the Ambassador--the
murdered valet, with the grim seal of silence upon his lips. Whoever had
committed this murder had made away with the snuff box, of that he felt
certain. Upon what, then, did his suspicions of Seltz rest? The evidence
was slender--merely that the latter had had an appointment to meet the
murdered man that afternoon, and that a person answering Seltz's
description had inquired for the latter at the servants' entrance at
Monsieur de Grissac's that evening. Not very convincing, surely, yet
taken with Seltz's evident intention to leave London for Brussels that
night, certainly significant. Following then his original hypothesis,
that Seltz was the guilty man, and had the box in his possession, two
solutions of the matter only seemed possible. The first was, the man in
the saloon below, anticipating perhaps some attempt to search his
baggage, had deliberately provided himself, through Seltz, with a second
package, containing a box of rice powder only, which he had placed in
his satchel, in the belief that, if found, its innocent contents would
divert from him further suspicion. The careless way in which he had
thrown his satchel on the floor beside him, favored this theory. It
seemed, on sober thought, extremely unlikely that the bearer of so
valuable a piece of property would be so thoughtless as to place it
loosely in an unlocked handbag. Even now the real package might be
reposing safely in some secure inner pocket.
The other solution was equally probable. The purchase of the face powder
might have been quite innocent and _bona fide_. The man below might know
nothing whatever about the snuff box, and Seltz might even now be on his
way to Brussels to dispose of it, in accordance with his original
intentions. If so, however, why had he informed Monsieur Perrier that he
had changed his mind, and would not take the vacation he had requested?
Was this merely a blind, to avert suspicion, in case the unexpected
murder of the man Noel resulted in inquiries being made of Monsieur
Perrier? Of course, when Seltz had spoken of his intention to go to
Brussels, no thought of murder was in his mind--he had no vital object
in hiding his movements--not having any reason to suppose that suspicion
could possibly be attracted to him. After the sending of the note to him
by Noel, he must have realized the danger of his position, and told
Monsieur Perrier that his plans had changed, while in reality fully
intending to carry them out as he had originally intended.
There was, of course, a possible third solution, namely, that Seltz had
nothing to do with the murder at all, and was merely an innocent barber,
quite unaware of all the mystery that was being woven about himself and
his movements. In that event, as Duvall realized with the deepest
chagrin, he would be obliged to return to London, and begin his
investigations all over again. In this event, there could be but one
starting point--the murder of the valet. Yet his painstaking examination
of the scene of the murder had shown an utter absence of any clues. Even
the weapon which had caused the valet's death was his own property--the
finger print on the seal which closed his lips made with his own
forefinger. And here the detective began to feel a deep sense of doubt
as to the accuracy of his conclusions regarding Seltz's guilt. Would a
man of his type have taken the trouble to place the gruesome seal upon
the dead man's lips? This seemed, on second thoughts, the act of a
hardened and unfeeling criminal--a man to whom murder was a scientific
accomplishment, not a hasty and hideous crime. Was Seltz such a man?
There was no answer to this question--the fleeting glimpses which Duvall
had secured of his face, through the barber-shop window, had told him
little or nothing of the man's character.
One fact, however, presently forced itself upon the detective's mind. If
Seltz had left the shop for Brussels that night, according to his
original intention, he must be somewhere on the boat. No night route
from London to Belgium existed, except that by way of Harwich. He blamed
himself that in his eagerness to discover the stranger with the satchel
he had not thought to look for Seltz.
Upon the conclusion of his deliberations, Duvall crossed over to the
other side of the boat, where he had left Dufrenne. The little old
Frenchman stood gazing down at the sea, his face blue with cold, and
filled with a look of bitter disappointment. He did not even glance up,
as Duvall joined him.
"Come, Monsieur Dufrenne," the detective said, kindly. "Let us go
below."
The old man accompanied him without a word. As they reached the
companionway, however, he spoke. "We must return to London at once," he
said. "This same boat will take us back to Harwich."
"Yes," Duvall agreed, "unless we discover that Seltz is aboard."
"Seltz?" The Frenchman looked up, puzzled, yet with an expression of
renewed hope in his eyes.
"Yes. We have apparently followed the wrong man. In that case, why not
search for the right one. If Seltz is on board, we will follow him to
Brussels. If not, we will return to London. We can make sure, when the
passengers are discharged at Antwerp."
Dufrenne nodded eagerly. "It may indeed be possible," he remarked, as
they entered the saloon.
Most of the passengers were on deck when the steamer reached her wharf
at Antwerp, but in spite of a careful search, Duvall was unable to
locate Seltz amongst them. He stood by the gang plank, watching the
crowd as it left the boat, his eyes searching restlessly for the swarthy
countenance of the barber. He had almost given up hope, when he saw a
belated passenger hurriedly cross the deck and dart up the gang plank.
He moved rapidly, his throat muffled in a blue neckcloth, his slouch hat
pulled down over his eyes, but the glance which Duvall obtained of his
somewhat scared face told him at once that he had located his man.
He signaled quietly to Dufrenne, who had been standing discreetly in the
background for fear the barber might recognize him, and the two left the
boat together, some forty or more yards in Seltz's rear.
They did not make any attempt to follow him closely. There seemed no
room for doubt that he was bound for the train to Brussels, and Duvall
and his companion followed along at a leisurely pace, showing nothing of
the agitation they so keenly felt.
They purposely avoided any attempt to enter the same compartment with
the barber, being satisfied when they saw him climb aboard the train.
They did, however, watch the departing passengers at all stops, and when
they rolled into the station at Brussels, they were certain that their
man was aboard. Nor were they mistaken. They saw him alight, look
swiftly about as though fearing that he was being followed, and then
start at a rapid pace toward the street.
Duvall went after him at once, directing Dufrenne to go to the Hotel
Metropole and secure a room in his own name, where he was to wait until
he heard from his companion. These instructions given, the detective
began to follow Seltz up the street.
The man evidently knew the town well. He made no pauses, and did not
hesitate at any time during his long walk. It terminated at a small,
third-class hotel in the older part of the city, where he went in,
entered the cafe, and selecting a table in a dim corner, ordered
breakfast.
Duvall, feeling safe in leaving him, at once sought a telephone and
proceeded to call up Dufrenne at the Hotel Metropole.
The latter, meanwhile, had turned from the railway station, and was
proceeding up the street at a leisurely pace, when a young man
approached him from behind, and touched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Monsieur Dufrenne?" he inquired, smiling.
The curio dealer glanced at the man who had accosted him, and an
answering smile lit up his face. "Oh, Lablanche, glad to see you," he
said. "I did not know you were on this case."
"Monsieur Lefevre sent me from Paris last night. We are expecting news
at any moment. Monsieur Duvall is with you, I observe."
"Yes. He is following the man from London. He will telephone me, as soon
as he learns his destination."
The man whom Dufrenne had addressed as Lablanche, looked grave. "This
affair has, we believe, been engineered by a physician here--Dr.
Hartmann--you have heard of him, of course."
Dufrenne turned to his companion. "Hartmann--the man of the stolen war
plans. _Mon Dieu!_ Why did I not think of him before?" He seemed deeply
chagrined. "Of course--of course--that explains everything."
"Where is Monsieur Duvall to communicate with you?" Dufrenne's companion
asked. His voice held a note of brisk authority.
"At the Hotel Metropole. I shall take a room there at once."
"Good. I must leave you for a short time. Await news from me at the
hotel. I shall, I hope, be able to inform you, within half an hour,
whether our suspicions regarding Dr. Hartmann are correct or not. If
they are, you will of course advise Monsieur Duvall accordingly. Above
all things, the delivery of the snuff box to Hartmann must be prevented.
On that point the Prefect was emphatic." The young man turned into a
cross street as he concluded and was swallowed up in the crowd.
Dufrenne, after securing his room at the Hotel Metropole, sat down to
wait. He did not have to wait long. The young man, Lablanche, joined him
in a short time. "We have just learned," he said, gravely, "that our
suspicions are entirely correct. Dr. Hartmann is responsible for the
theft of the snuff box, and is momentarily expecting the man who is to
deliver it to him."
Dufrenne looked grave. "Duvall should know this without delay," he said.
He had no more than spoken, when the telephone bell in his room rang. He
hastened to reply and found Duvall at the other end of the wire. "Come
to the Hotel Universelle," the latter said, laconically. "Hurry. I will
wait for you."
Dufrenne communicated the message to Lablanche. The latter nodded.
"Good!" he said. "Give Monsieur Duvall the information you have, and
above all, impress upon him the necessity of acting immediately. There
is no time for delay. I will follow at once, with another of our men."
The curio dealer found Duvall pacing anxiously up and down the hotel
corridor, pretending to be searching a railway time-table. He nodded
imperceptibly toward the cafe as Dufrenne entered, then turned and went
out into the street. The old man followed him--in a few moments they
were conversing rapidly in the doorway of a near-by shop.
Dufrenne had but a few words to say, but they were sufficient to show
Duvall the extreme gravity of the situation. He stood for several
moments, considering the best way by which the delivery of the stolen
snuff box to Dr. Hartmann might be prevented. Then he signaled a cab
which he saw approaching. "Seltz is breakfasting--inside," he said
quickly to Dufrenne. "Don't let him out of your sight. I am going to see
Dr. Hartmann." He sprang into the cab, gave the doctor's name to the
cabman, and in a moment was being driven rapidly up the street, leaving
the little old Frenchman standing blinking with astonishment on the
sidewalk.