CHAPTER VII
"A very real, a very moving thing, Mr. Narkom," he replied. "The cry ofa human heart in deep distress; the agonised appeal of a man so wroughtup by the horrors of his position that he forgets to offer a temptationin the way of reward, and speaks of outlandish things as though theymust be understood of all. As witness his allusion to something which hecalls 'The Red Crawl,' without attempting to explain the meaninglessphrase. Whatever it is, it is so real to him that it seems as ifeverybody must understand."
"You think, then, that the thing is genuine?"
"So genuine that I shall answer its call, Mr. Narkom, and be alone inthe dark on the top floor of No. 7, Rue Toison d'Or, to-morrow night assurely as the clock strikes nine."
And that was how the few persons who happened to be in the quiet upperreaches of the Rue Bienfaisance at half-past eight o'clock the nextevening came to see a fat, fussing, red-faced Englishman in a greyfrock-coat, white spats, and a shining topper, followed by a liveriedservant with a hat-box in one hand and a portmanteau in the other--soconspicuous, the pair of them, that they couldn't have any desire toconceal themselves--cross over the square before the Church of St.Augustine, fare forth into the darker side passages, and move in thedirection of the street of the Golden Fleece.
They were, of course, Cleek and the boy Dollops.
"Lumme, Gov'nor," whispered he, as they turned at last into the utterdarkness and desertion of the narrow Rue Toison d'Or, "if this is wotyer calls Gay Paree--this precious black slit between two rows ofhouses--I'll take a slice of the Old Kent Road with thanks. Not even somuch as a winkle-stall in sight, and me that empty my shirt-bosom'sa-chafing my blessed shoulder-blades!"
"You'll see plenty of life before the game's over, I warrant you,Dollops. Now then, my lad, here's a safe spot. Sit down on the hat-boxand wait. That's No. 7, that empty house with the open door, just acrossthe way. Keep your eye on it. I don't know how long I'll be, but ifanybody comes out before I do, mind you don't let him get away."
"No fear!" said Dollops sententiously. "I'll be after him as if he was aham sandwich, sir. Look out for my patent 'Tickle Tootsies' when youcome out, Gov'nor. I'll sneak over and put 'em round the door as soon asyou've gone in." For Dollops, who was of an inventive turn of mind, hadan especial "man-trap" of his own, which consisted of heavy brown paper,cut into squares, and thickly smeared over with a viscid varnish-likesubstance that would adhere to the feet of anybody incautiously steppingupon it, and so interfere with flight that it was an absolute necessityto stop and tear the papers away before running with any sort of easeand swiftness was possible. This was the "invention" to which Cleek hadalluded. Dollops, who was rather proud of the achievement, carried withhim a full supply of ready-cut papers and a big collapsible tube of theviscid, ropy, varnish-like glue.
Meantime, Cleek, having left the boy sitting on the hat-box in thedarkness, crossed the narrow street to the open doorway of No. 7, and,without hesitation, stepped in. The place was as black as a pocket, andhad that peculiar smell which belongs to houses that have long stoodvacant. The house, nevertheless, was a respectable one, and, like allthe others, fronted on another street--this dark Toison d'Or beingmerely a back passage used principally by the tradespeople for thedelivery of supplies. Feeling his way to the first of the three flightsof stairs which led upward into the stillness and gloom above, Cleekmounted steadily until he found himself at length in a sort ofattic--quite windowless, and lit only by a skylight through which shonethe ineffectual light of the stars. It was the top at last. Bracing hisback against the wall, so that nobody could get behind him, and holdinghimself ready for any emergency, he called out in a clear, calm voice:"Cleek!"
Almost simultaneously there was a sharp metallic "snick," an electricbulb hanging from the ceiling flamed out luminously, a cupboard doorflashed open, a voice cried out in joyous, perfect English: "Thank Godfor a man!" And, switching round with a cry of amazement, he foundhimself looking into the face and eyes of a woman.
And of all women in the world--Ailsa Lorne!
He sucked in his breath and his heart began to hammer.
"Miss Lorne!" he exclaimed, so carried out of himself that he scarcelyknew what he did. "It was the French position that you chose, then? Itis you--_you_--that calls upon me?"
"No, it is not," she made reply, a rush of colour reddening her cheeks,a feeling of embarrassment and of a natural restraint making her shakevisibly. "I am merely the envoy of another. I should not know you,disguised as you are, but for that. Yes, I chose the French position, asyou see, Mr. Cleek. I am now the companion to Mademoiselle Athalie,daughter of the Baron de Carjorac."
"Baron de Carjorac? Do you mean the French Minister of the Interior, thePresident of the Board of National Defences, Miss Lorne--thatenthusiastic old patriot, that rabid old spitfire, whose one dream isthe wresting back of Alsace-Lorraine, the driving of the hated Germansinto the sea? Do you mean that ripping old firebrand?"
"Yes. But you'd not call him that if you were to see him now; if youcould see the wreck, the broken and despairing wreck, that six weeks ofthe Chateau Larouge, six weeks of that horrible 'Red Crawl' have made ofhim."
"'The Red Crawl'! Good heavens! then that letter, that appeal forhelp--"
"Came from him!" she finished excitedly. "It was he who was to have metyou here to-night, Mr. Cleek. This house is one he owns; he thought hemight with safety risk coming here, but--he can't! he can't! He knowsnow that there is danger for him everywhere; that his every step istracked; that the snare which is about him has been about him,unsuspected, for almost a year; that he dare not, absolutely dare not,appeal to the French police, and that if it were known he had appealedto you, he would be a dead man inside of twenty-four hours, and not onlydead, but--disgraced. Oh, Mr. Cleek!"--she stretched out two shakinghands and laid them on his arm, lifted a white, imploring face tohis--"save him! save that dear broken old man! Ah, think! think! Theyare our friends, our dear country's friends, these French people. Theirwelfare is our welfare, ours is theirs. Oh, help him, save him, Mr.Cleek--for his own sake--for mine--for France. Save him, and win mygratitude for ever!"
"That is a temptation that would carry me to the ends of the earth, MissLorne. Tell me what the work is, and I will carry it through. What isthis incomprehensible thing of which both you and Baron de Carjorac havespoken--this thing you allude to as 'The Red Crawl'?"
She gave a little shuddering cry and fell back a step, covering her facewith both hands.
"Oh!" she said, with a shiver of repulsion. "It is loathly--it ishorrible--it is necromancy--beyond belief! Why, oh, why were we everdriven to that horrible Chateau Larouge! Why could not fate have sparedthe Villa de Carjorac? It could not have happened then!"
"Villa de Carjorac? That was the name of the baron's residence, Ibelieve. I remember reading in the newspapers some five or six weeks agothat it was destroyed by fire, which originated--nobody knew how--in theapartments of the late baroness in the very dead of the night. I thoughtat the time it read suspiciously like the work of an incendiary,although nobody hinted at such a thing. The Chateau Larouge I also havea distinct memory of, as an old historic property in the neighbourhoodof St. Cloud. Speaking from past experience, I know that, although it isin such a state of decay, and supposed to be uninhabitable, it has, infact, often been occupied at a period when the police and the publicbelieved it to be quite empty. Gentlemen of the Apache persuasion havefrequently made it a place of retreat. There is also an undergroundpassage--executed by those same individuals--which connects with theParis sewers. That, too, the police are unaware of. What can the ruinedChateau Larouge possibly have to do with the affairs of the Baron deCarjorac, Miss Lorne, that you connect them like this?"
"They have everything to do with them--everything. The Chateau is nolonger a ruin, however. It was purchased, rebuilt, refitted by theComtesse Susanne de la Tour, Mr. Cleek, and she and her brother livethere. So do we--Athalie, Baron de Carjorac, and I. So, also, does thecreature--the thing--the ab
ominable horror known as 'The Red Crawl.'"
"My dear Miss Lorne, what are you saying?"
"The truth, nothing but the truth!" she answered hysterically. "Oh, letme begin at the beginning--you'll never understand unless I do. I'lltell you in as few words as possible--as quickly as I can. It all beganlast winter, when Athalie and her father were at Monte Carlo. There theymet Madame la Comtesse de la Tour and her brother, Monsieur GastonMerode. The baron has position but he has not wealth, Mr. Cleek. Athalieis ambitious. She loves luxury, riches, a life of fashion--all thethings that boundless money can give; and when Monsieur Merode--who isyoung, handsome, and said to be fabulously wealthy--showed a distinctpreference for her over all the other marriageable girls he met, she wasflattered out of her silly wits. Before they left Monte Carlo for Pariseverybody could see that he had only to ask her hand, to have itbestowed upon him. For although the baron never has cared for the man,Athalie rules him, and her every caprice is humoured.
"But for all he was so ardent a lover, Monsieur Merode was slow incoming to the important point. Perhaps his plans were not matured. Atany rate, he did not propose to Athalie at Monte Carlo; and, although heand his sister returned to Paris at the same time as the baron and hisdaughter, he still deferred the proposal."
"Has he not made it yet?"
"Yes, Mr. Cleek. He made it six weeks ago--to be exact, two nightsbefore the Villa de Carjorac was fired."
"You think it was fired, then?"
"I do now, although I had no suspicion of it at the time. Athaliereceived her proposal on the Saturday, the baron gave his consent on theSunday, and on Monday night the villa was mysteriously burnt, leavingall three of us without an immediate refuge. In the meantime, Madame laComtesse had purchased the ruin of the Chateau Larouge, and during theperiod of her brother's deferred proposal was engaged in fitting it upas an abode for herself and him. On the very day it was finished,Monsieur Merode asked for Athalie's hand."
"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong rising inflection. "I think I begin tosmell the toasting of the cheese. Of course, when the villa was burntout, Madame la Comtesse insisted that, as the _fiancee_ of her brother,Mlle. de Carjorac must make her home at the Chateau until the necessaryrepairs could be completed; and, of course, the baron had to go withher?"
"Yes," admitted Ailsa. "The baron accepted--Athalie would not haveallowed him to decline had he wished to--so we all three went there andhave been residing there ever since. On the night after our arrival analarming, a horrifying thing occurred. It was while we were at dinnerthat the conversation turned upon the supernatural--upon houses andplaces that were reputed to be haunted--and then Madame la Comtesse madea remarkable statement. She laughingly asserted that she had justlearned that, in purchasing the Chateau Larouge, she had also become thepossessor of a sort of family ghost. She said that she had only justheard--from an outside source--that there was a horrible legendconnected with the place; in short, that for centuries it had beenreputed to be under a sort of spell of evil and to be cursed by adreadful visitant known as 'The Red Crawl'--a hideous and loathsomecreature, neither spider nor octopus, but horribly resemblingboth--which was supposed to 'appear' at intervals in the middle of thenight, and, like the fabled giants of fairy tales, carry off 'lovelymaidens and devour them.'"
"Who is responsible for that ridiculous assertion, I wonder? I think Imay say that I know as much about the Chateau Larouge and its history asanybody, Miss Lorne, but I never heard of this supposed 'legend' beforein all my life."
"So the baron, too, declared, laughing as derisively as any of us overthe story, although it is well known that he has a natural antipathy toall crawling things--an abhorrence inherited from his mother--and hasbeen known to run like a frightened child from the appearance of a meregarden spider."
"Oho!" said Cleek again. "I see! I see! The toasted cheese smellsstronger, and there's a distinct suggestion of the Rhine about it thistime. There's something decidedly German about that fabulous 'monster'and that haunted chateau, Miss Lorne. They are clever and carefulschemers, those German Johnnies. Of course, this amazing 'Red Crawl' wasproved to have an absolute foundation in fact, and equally, of course,it 'appeared' to the Baron de Carjorac?"
"Yes--that very night. After we had all gone to bed, the house wasroused by his screams. Everybody rushed to his chamber, only to find himlying on the floor in a state of collapse. The thing had been in hisroom, he said. He had seen it--it had even touched him--a horrible,hideous red reptile, with squirming tentacles, a huge, glowing body, andeyes like flame. It had crept upon him out of the darkness--he knew notfrom where. It had seized him, resisted all his wild efforts to tearloose from it, and when he finally sank, overcome and fainting, upon thefloor, his last conscious recollection was of the loathsome thingsettling down upon his breast and running its squirming 'feelers' up anddown his body."
"Of course! Of course! That was part of the game. It was aftersomething. Something of the utmost importance to German interests.That's why the Chateau Larouge was refitted, why the Villa de Carjoracwas burnt down, and why this Monsieur Gaston Merode became engaged toMademoiselle Athalie."
"Oh, how could you know that, Mr. Cleek? Nobody ever suspected. Thebaron never confessed to any living soul until he did so to me,to-day--and then only because he had to tell somebody, in order that theappointment with you might be kept. How, then, could you guess?"
"By putting two and two together, Miss Lorne, and discovering that theydo not make five. The inference is very clear: Baron de Carjorac isPresident of the Board of National Defences; Germany, in spite of itspublic assurances to the contrary, is known by those who are 'on theinside' to harbour a very determined intention of making a secretattack, an unwarned invasion, upon England. France is the key to thesituation. If, without the warning that must come through the delay ofpicking a quarrel and entering into an open war with the Republic, theGerman army can swoop down in the night, cross the frontier, and gainimmediate possession of the ports of France, in five hours' time it canbe across the English Channel, and its hordes pouring down upon asleeping people. To carry out this programme, the first step would, ofcourse, be to secure knowledge of the number, location, manner of thesecret defences of France--the plans of fortification, the maps of the'danger zone,' the documentary evidence of her strongest and weakestpoints--and who so likely to be the guardian of these as the Baron deCarjorac? That is how I know that 'The Red Crawl' was after something ofvital importance to German interests, Miss Lorne. That he got it, I knowfrom the fact that the baron, while hinting at disgrace and speaking ofperil to his own life, dared not confide in the French authorities andask the assistance of the French police. Moreover, if 'The Red Crawl'had failed to secure anything, the baron, with his congenital loathingof all crawling things, would have left the Chateau Larougeimmediately."
"Oh, to think that you guessed it so easily--and it was all such apuzzle to me. I could not think, Mr. Cleek, why he did remain--why hewould not be persuaded to go, although every night was adding to thehorror of the thing and it seemed clear to me that he was going mad. Ofcourse, Madame la Comtesse and her brother tried to reason him out ofwhat he declared, tried to make him believe that it was all fancy--thathe did not really see the fearful thing; it was equally in vain that Imyself tried to persuade him to leave the place before his reason becameunsettled. Last night"--she paused, shuddered, put both hands over herface, and drew in a deep breath--"last night, I, too, saw 'The RedCrawl,' Mr. Cleek--I, too!"
"You, Miss Lorne?"
"Yes. I made up my mind that I would--that, if it existed, I would haveabsolute proof of it. The countess and her brother had scoffed sofrequently, had promised the baron so often that they would set aservant on guard in the corridor to watch, and then had said so often topoor, foolish, easily persuaded Athalie that it was useless doinganything so silly, as it was absolutely certain that her father onlyimagined the thing, that I--I determined to take the step myself,unknown to any of them. After everybody had gone to bed, I threw on aloo
se, dark gown, crept into the corridor, and hid in a niche from whichI could see the door of the baron's room. I waited until aftermidnight--long after--and then--and then--"
"Calm yourself, Miss Lorne. Then the thing appeared, I suppose?"
"Yes; but not before something equally terrible had happened. I saw thedoor of the countess's room open; I saw the countess herself come out,accompanied by the man who up till then I had believed, like everybodyelse, was her brother."
"And who is not her brother, after all?"
"No, he is not. Theirs is a closer tie. I saw her kiss him. I saw her gowith him to an angle of the corridor, lift a rug, and raise a trap inthe floor."
"Hullo! Hullo!" ejaculated Cleek. "Then she, too; knows of the passagewhich leads to the sewers. Clearly, then, this Countess de la Tour isnot what she seems, when she knows secrets that are known only to thefollowers of--well, never mind. Go on, Miss Lorne, go on. You saw herlift that trap; and--what then?"
"Then there came up out of it--oh, the most loathsome-looking creature Iever saw; a huge, crawling, red shape that was like a blood-red spider,with the eyes, the hooked beak, and the writhing tentacles of anoctopus. It made no sound, but it seemed to know her, to understand her,for when she waved her hand toward the open door of her own room itcrawled away and, obeying that gesture, dragged its huge bulk over thethreshold, and passed from sight. Then the man she called her brotherkissed her again, and as he descended into the darkness below the trap Iheard her say quite distinctly: 'Tell Marise that I will come as soon asI can; but not to delay the revel. If I am compelled to forego itto-night, there shall be a wilder one to-morrow, when Clodochearrives.'"
"Clodoche! By Jupiter!" Cleek almost jumped as he spoke. "Now I know the'lay'! No; don't ask me anything yet. Go on with the story, please. Whatthen, Miss Lorne, what then?"
"Then the man below said something which I could not hear--something towhich she answered in these words: 'No, no; there is no danger. I willguard it safely, and it shall go into no hands but Clodoche's. He andCount von Hetzler will be there about midnight to-morrow to complete thedeal and pay over the money. Clodoche will want the fragment, of course,to show to the count as a proof that it is the right one, as "anearnest" of what the remainder is worth. And you must bring me that"remainder" without fail, Gaston--you hear me?--without fail! I shall bethere, at the rendezvous, awaiting you, and the thing must be in ourhands when von Hetzler comes. The thing must be finished to-morrownight, even if you and Serpice have to throw all caution to the windsand throttle the old fool.' Then, as if answering a further question,she laughingly added: 'Oh, get that fear out of your head. I'm not abat, to be caught napping. I'll give it to no one but Clodoche--and noteven to him until he gives the secret sign.' And then, Mr. Cleek, as sheclosed the trap I heard the man call back to her 'Good night' and giveher a name I had not heard before. We had always supposed that she hadbeen christened 'Suzanne,' but as that man left he called her--"
"I know before you tell me--'Margot'!" interjected Cleek. "I guessed theidentity of this 'Countess de la Tour' from the moment you spoke ofClodoche and that secret trap. Her knowledge of those two betrayed herto me. Clodoche is a renegade Alsatian, a spy in the pay of the GermanGovernment, and an old _habitue_ of 'The Inn of the Twisted Arm,' wherethe Queen of the Apaches and her pals hold their frequent revels. I canguess the remainder of your story now. You carried this news to theBaron de Carjorac, and he, breaking down, confessed to you that he hadlost something."
"Yes, yes--a dreadful 'something,' Mr. Cleek: the horrible thing thathas been making life an agony to him ever since. On the night when thatabominable 'Red Crawl' first overcame him, there was upon his person amost important document--a rough draft of the maps of fortification andthe plan of the secret defences of France, the identical document fromwhich was afterwards transcribed the parchment now deposited in thesecret archives of the Republic. When Baron de Carjorac recovered hissenses after his horrifying experience--"
"That document was gone?"
"Part of it, Mr. Cleek--thank God, only a part! If it had been theparchment itself, no such merciful thing could possibly have happened.But the paper was old, much folding and handling had worn the creasesthrough, and when, in his haste, the secret robber grabbed it, whilstthat loathsome creature held the old man down, it parted directly downthe middle, and he got only a vertical section of each of its manypages."
"Victoria! 'And the fool hath said in his heart, There is no God,'"quoted Cleek. "So, then, the hirelings of the enemy have only got halfwhat they are after; and, as no single sentence can be complete upon apaper torn like that, nothing can be made of it until the other half issecured, and--our German friends are still 'up a gum-tree.' I know nowwhy the baron stayed on at the Chateau Larouge, and why 'The Red Crawl'is preparing to pay him another visit to-night: he hoped, poor chap, tofind a clue to the whereabouts of the fragment he had lost; and thatthing is after the fragment he still retains. Well, it will be a long,long day before either of those two fragments fall into German hands."
"Oh, Mr. Cleek, you think you can get the stolen paper back? You believeyou can outwit those dreadful people and save the Baron de Carjorac'shonour and his life?"
"Miss Lorne"--he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips--"MissLorne, I thank you for giving me the chance! If you will do what I askyou, be where I ask you in two hours' time, so surely as we two standhere this minute, I will put back the German calendar by ten years atleast. They drink 'To the day,' those German Johnnies, but by to-morrowmorning the English hand you are holding will have given them reason togroan over the night!"