V
Burton strolled up and down the deck, impatient for the boat to make theport. He was convinced: the man was French; he was tall, urbane, andbald; he rode a motor-cycle; he knew the Dover Road; he guarded his bagas something precious, and it contained something that was going to makea noise in the world. What so likely to do that as Micklewright'sexplosive!
One thing puzzled Burton; the man's allusion to English inventors--Sims,Edwards, Rowland--who were they? Burton subscribed to a good manyscientific magazines, and kept closely in touch with recent inventions;but he did not recall any of these names. It flashed upon him that theFrenchman, rendered suspicious by his fishing questions, had mentionedthe names as a blind; he had spoken of Sims, Edwards and Rowland whenhis mind was really full of Micklewright.
"If that's your game, it won't wash," he thought.
He determined, as soon as the vessel reached port, to hurry ashore,interview the Customs officers, and warn them in general terms of thedangerous nature of what the Frenchman carried. If only the bag hadbeen opened and its contents revealed, he would not have hesitated toinform the captain, and have the villain detained. But the Customsofficers, primed with his information, would insist on opening the bag,and then!--yes, there would undoubtedly be "a noise in the world," whenit became known that so audacious a scheme had been detected and foiled.
The sun went down, the steamer plugged her way onward, and through thedarkness the lamps of Ostend by and by gleamed faintly in the distance.Burton made his way to the bridge again, and asked the captain to allowthe flying-boat to remain on the vessel till the morning; then hereturned to the deck, and leant on the rail near the gangway.
All was bustle as the steamer drew near to the harbour. The passengerscollected their belongings, and congregated. Some spoke to Burton; hehardly heeded them. He had his eye on the Frenchman, still slumberingpeacefully.
The bells clanged; the vessel slowed; a rope was thrown to the pier; andtwo of the sailors stood ready to launch the gangway as soon as the boatcame to rest. The moment it clattered on to the planks of the pierBurton was across, and hurried to the shed where the Customs officers,like spiders in wait for unwary flies, were lined up behind theircounter, cool, keen, alert. He accosted the chief douanier, describedthe Frenchman in a few rapid sentences, suggested that the brown bagwould repay examination, and receiving assurance that the properinquiries should be made, posted himself outside at the corner of theshed in the dark, to watch the scene.
The passengers came by one by one, and answering the formal question,had their luggage franked by the mystic chalk mark and passed on.Burton's pulse throbbed as he saw the tall Frenchman come briskly intothe light of the lamps.
"Here he is!" whispered the officers one to another.
"Have you anything to declare, monsieur?" asked one of them, with formalcourtesy.
"No, no, monsieur," replied the man; "you see I have only a hand-bag."
He laid it on the counter to be chalked.
"Be so good as to open the bag, monsieur," said the officer.
The Frenchman stared; the passengers behind him pricked up their ears ashe began to expostulate in a torrent of French too rapid for Burton tofollow. The officer shrugged, and firmly repeated his demand. Stillloudly protesting, the Frenchman drew a bunch of keys from his pocket,selected one, and with a gesture of despair laid open the bag to theofficer's inspection.
Burton drew a little nearer and watched feverishly. The officer put hishand into the bag, and drew forth a bundle of what appeared to bestriped wool. Exclaiming at its weight, he laid it on the counter, andbegan to unroll it. His colleagues smiled as he held aloft thepantaloons of a suit of pyjamas. He threw them down, and took up theobject round which the garment had been wrapped. It was a large glassbottle, filled with a viscid yellowish liquid, and bearing a label.
"Voila!" shouted its owner. "Je vous l'avais bien dit."
The officer took up the bottle, eyeing it suspiciously. He examined thelabel; he took out the stopper and sniffed, then held the bottle to thenoses of his colleagues, who sniffed in turn.
"It will not explode?" he said to the Frenchman.
"Explode!" snorted the man scornfully. "It is harmless; it is perfect;it contains no petroleum; look, there is the warranty on the label.Bah!"
He struck a match and held it to the mouth of the open bottle, which theofficer extended at arm's length. The flame flickered and went out.
"Voila!" said the Frenchman with a triumphant snort.
Then fumbling in his pocket he drew out a sheaf of flimsy papers. Oneof these he handed to the officer, who glanced at it, smiled, said, "Ah!oui! oui!" and replacing the stopper, rolled the bottle in the pyjamasagain.
"But it is not yet certain," he exclaimed. "Monsieur will permit me."
He plunged his hand again into the bag, whose owner made a comicalgesture of outraged modesty as the officer brought out, first thecompanion jacket of the pantaloons, then a somewhat ancient tooth-brush.He rummaged further, turned the bag upside down. It contained nothingelse.
"A thousand excuses, monsieur," he said, replacing the articles, andchalking the bag.
"Ah! It is your duty," said the passenger magnanimously. "Good-night,monsieur."
Catching sight of Burton as he was passing on, he stopped.
"Ah! my friend, here you are," he said. "I give you vun of my announce.It has ze address. I see you to-morrow? Zat is quite right!"
Then he lifted his hat and went his way.
Burton thrust the slip of paper into his pocket without looking at it.He felt horribly disconcerted. The fluid in the bottle was certainlynot Micklewright's explosive; that was a crystalline solid. He had madean egregious mistake. It was more than disappointing; it washumiliating. He had been engaged in a wild-goose chase indeed. Hisstratagem was wasted; his suspicions were unfounded; his deductionsutterly fallacious. While he was dogging this innocent Frenchman, thereal villain was no doubt on the other side of the sea, waiting for thenight boat from Dover or perhaps Newhaven. He had made a fool ofhimself.
Despondent and irritated, he was about to find his way to the nearesthotel for the night, when he suddenly noticed a second portly figureapproaching the shed among the file of passengers. The man was hatless;he was bald; he carried a brown leather hand-bag. His collar was limp;his face was clammy, and of that pallid greenish hue which betokensbeyond possibility of doubt a severe attack of sea-sickness.
At the first glance Burton started; at the second he flushed; then, onthe impulse of the moment, he sprang forward, and reaching the side ofthe flabby passenger at the moment when he placed his bag upon thecounter, he laid his hand upon it, and cried--
"My bag, monsieur!"
The bald-headed passenger glanced round in mere amazement, clutching hisbag.
"Excuse me, monsieur," he said quietly, "it is mine."
The Customs officer looked from one to the other: the pallid foreigner,limp and nerveless; the ruddy Englishman, eager, strenuous anddetermined.
"Ah! You gave me the warning. You were mistaken," he said to Burton."The other bag contained only pyjamas, a bottle, and a toothbrush;nothing harmful. Monsieur is too full of zeal; he may be mistakenagain. He accuses this gentleman of stealing his bag? Well, that is amatter for the police. I will do my duty, then you can find apoliceman. Have you anything to declare?" he concluded in his officialtone.
"Nothing," said the foreigner.
"A thousand cigarettes!" cried Burton at the same moment.
Each had still a hand on the bag. At Burton's words the passenger gavehim a startled glance, and Burton knew by the mingled wonder and terrorin his eyes that this time he had made no mistake.
"Comment! A thousand cigarettes!" repeated the officer. "Messieursmust permit me to open the bag."
He drew it from their grasp. It opened merely by a catch. The officerpeeped inside, and shot a questioning look at Burton, who bent over, andat
a single glance recognised the small yellowish crystals.
"That's it!" he cried in excitement.
"Monsieur will perhaps explain," said the officer to the owner of thebag, who appeared to have become quite apathetic. "There are nocigarettes; no; but what is this substance? Is it on the Customsschedule? No. Very well, I must impound it for inquiry."
The man, almost in collapse from weakness, began to mumble something.The officer's remark about impounding the stuff disturbed Burton. If itgot into expert hands Micklewright's secret would be discovered.
Acting on a sudden inspiration, he took a cigarette from his case, andstruck a match.
"Eh, monsieur, it is forbidden to smoke," cried the officer sternly.
At the same time he nodded his head towards the placard "_Defense defumer_" affixed to the wall.
"Ah! Pardon! Forbidden! So it is," said Burton, who was shading thelighted match within his rounded palm from the wind. He made as if tothrow it away, but with a dexterous cast dropped it flaming into theopen bag. Instantly there was a puff and whizz, and a column of thicksuffocating smoke spurted up to the roof. The officer started back withan execration. A lady shrieked; others of the passengers took to theirheels. The air was full of pungent fumes and lurid exclamations, and inthe confusion the owner of the bag quietly slipped away into thedarkness. Burton stood his ground. His task was done. Every particleof Micklewright's explosive that had left the shores of England wasdissipated in gas. The secret was saved.
"I give him in charge"]
Choking and spluttering the officer dashed forward, shaking his fist inBurton's face, mingling terms of Gallic abuse with explosive cries forthe police. A gendarme came up.
"I give him in charge," shouted the officer, with gesticulations. "Itis forbidden to smoke; see, the place is full of smoke! The other man;where is he? It is a conspiracy. They are anarchists. Arrest thevillain!"
"Monsieur will please come with me," said the gendarme, touching Burtonon the sleeve.
"All right," said Burton cheerfully. "I can smoke as we go along?"
"It is not forbidden to smoke in the streets," replied the gendarmegravely.
And with one hand on the prisoner's arm, the other carrying the emptybag, he set off towards the town.