A Nest of Spies

  XXVII

  THE TWO VINSONS

  There were strange happenings elsewhere on the day Henri de Loubersacand Wilhelmine de Naarboveck had parted in grief and anger.

  It was on the stroke of noon when Corporal Vinson heard a key turn inthe lock of his cell. Two military jailors confronted him.

  "Butler?"

  The traitor answered to that name.

  Juve, for reasons of his own, had not revealed the prisoner's truequality. Vinson had therefore been entered in the jail book as Butler.

  One of the jailors, an old veteran, whose uniform was a mixture of thecivil and the military, took the word.

  "Butler, you are to be transferred to a building belonging to theCouncil of War: there you will occupy cell 27.... Our prison here isfor the condemned only, so you cannot remain. You belong to theaccused section."

  All that mattered to Butler-Vinson for the moment was--he had to reachhis new quarters by crossing the rue Cherche-Midi between twojailors.... He would be exposed to the curious glances of the public!He shuddered at the thought!... And there was worse to come! This wasbut the commencement of his purgatory.... As he had not known how todie at the right moment, he must arm himself with courage to expiatehis cowardice!... He must leave the shelter of his cell!... With anintense effort of will he stretched out his arms, was handcuffedwithout a murmur, and, marching between his two jailors, he quittedthe prison.

  The bright light of noonday made him blink. On reaching the pavementhe recoiled with a convulsive movement: the jailors pulled himforward.

  It was the crowded hour, when men leave offices and shops for a middaymeal. But the public of these parts, accustomed to such comings andgoings of prisoners and their jailors, paid no attention to thispitiful trio.

  The prisoner seemed so overcome with emotion that, after uttering along sigh like a death rattle, he sank, a dead weight, into the armsof his jailors.

  They were forced to support him. They carried him to the courtyard ofthe Council of War. Some, whose curiosity was aroused by the unusualpallor of the prisoner, wished to follow, but the jailors closed thegreat doors of the courtyard.

  Before leading him to his cell, they dumped their inanimate prisoneron a chair in the porter's lodge.... The porter brought vinegar. Theyrubbed Butler-Vinson's temples with it. A jailor slapped his hands. Invain! The prisoner showed no signs of life!

  "You had better take him to his cell," advised the porter. "Perhaps hewill come to his senses if laid on his palliasse? In any case, run forthe medical officer."

  The jailors, who could make nothing of their prisoner's mysteriouscondition, transported him to cell 27. They laid him on his palliasse.

  * * * * *

  "Lieutenant Servin?"

  "Commandant?"

  "Will you help me to reduce these papers to order? It is half-pasteleven: I want to go to breakfast!"

  The lieutenant brought a pile of documents to his superior's table andrapidly classified them.

  His superior, Commandant Dumoulin, had been chief assistant at theSecond Bureau. He had passed long years at his post there. Previous tothat, he had acted as Government Commissioner on the Councils of Warin the various garrisons where he had been stationed.... Some sixmonths ago Dumoulin had sent in his request to the Minister of War fora change of billet. His record being an excellent one, the Ministerhad appointed him Government Chief-commissioner attached to thePrincipal Council of War, sitting in Paris.

  Dumoulin had recently taken up his new duties, and was counting ongetting peacefully into the run of things, when, the evening before,he had been warned at his own home by a private note from theMinister, that a deserter, accused of treason, had been arrested, andthat Corporal Vinson was the man in question.

  At the sight of this name Commandant Dumoulin thrilled withexcitement. As former Under-Secretary at the Second Bureau he had theaffair at his finger ends, and well knew how tangled, how obscure itwas, how bristling with dangers, how rich in complications.... TheVinson affair, it was the Captain Brocq affair, the singer Nichouneaffair ... the story of a plan of mobilisation stolen, of a gun piecelifted from the Arsenal!... He was in for a big affair--a sensationalcase!...

  The commandant passed a wakeful night and arrived early at his office.He must get to work! Fortunately, among his deputies he had found acompetent and zealous helper in Lieutenant Servin. He turned to himnow.

  "Our next proceeding will be to establish the identity of CorporalVinson. We must examine him on that point without delay.... Send forhim immediately, Lieutenant!... According to the prison register, heoccupies cell 26."

  "Excuse me, Commandant; Vinson, who was registered this morning at theCherche-Midi prison, must actually be in the Council buildings, wherehe occupied cell 27."

  The commandant adjusted his eye-glasses, looked closely at a yellowpaper, and corrected in his turn:

  "That is an error: in cell 27 is an individual named Butler."

  "Yes, Commandant: Butler--he is Vinson!"

  "I do not understand," objected Dumoulin. "You must have made amistake. Corporal Vinson was arrested yesterday at the Saint Lazarestation: he was brought here and was registered for cell 26; besides,I was immediately informed of this arrest by a private telegram."

  "Commandant," persisted the lieutenant: "Corporal Vinson, who hidhimself under the name of Butler, was arrested early this morning atthe Calais station, when he landed from England. The arrest waseffected by Inspector Juve, who took his prisoner to Cherche-Midiabout six o'clock; and this Vinson occupied cell 27."

  "Come, now, Lieutenant, you have lost your head!" grumbled thecommandant: "Since Vinson was arrested yesterday at the Saint Lazarestation, it is evident that he was not arrested last night at Calais!Vinson and Butler--that makes two."

  "I beg your pardon, Commandant: that makes only one!"

  The commandant looked severely at his subordinate.

  "That is enough, Lieutenant!... Send for Corporal Vinson who occupiedcell 26."

  "Right, Commandant!"

  Some minutes later there was a knock at the door: two warders with aprisoner stood on the threshold.

  The commandant assured himself with a glance that the non-commissionedofficer, acting as reporter, was at his post, and that LieutenantServin was seated at the desk next his own.

  "Enter!" he commanded.

  Dumoulin solemnly opened the voluminous bundle of papers set beforehim, looked through the documents, affecting not to see the prisonerstationed before him.... Ready at length to begin the interrogation,the commandant raised his head, straightened himself, and ordered:

  "Approach!"

  The prisoner, a warder on each side of him, took a step forward.

  "You are truly Corporal Vinson?"

  "No, Commandant!"

  Dumoulin was silent a moment, choking with anger, his hand tremblingslightly--did the fellow mean to mock him?... He frowned. He did notlike the manner of this fellow, with his bright, piercing eyes, hisscornful looks. He repeated:

  "Are you Corporal Vinson?"

  "No, Commandant."

  Dumoulin was boiling with rage: he was about to explode. LieutenantServin approached: in a low voice he said:

  "Commandant! Someone wishes you to see him immediately."

  Servin handed his superior a card. On it the commandant read:

  _Inspector Juve, Detective Force, Police Headquarters._

  "What does he want?"

  "He is the detective who arrested Vinson."

  "Well," exclaimed the exasperated Dumoulin, "he arrives at the rightmoment! Let him come in!"

  Juve entered and saluted Dumoulin with an amiable smile. He did nottake any notice of the prisoner, who was standing with his back to thelight.

  "It is I, Commandant, who arrested Corporal Vinson; consequently, Ihave come to place myself at your disposal."

  "You have done the right thing!" cried Dumoulin. "Now, will you getthis p
risoner to own up? Make him tell us whether or no he is CorporalVinson!"

  Dumoulin pointed an irate finger at the prisoner.

  Our detective stood rooted to the ground!... The prisoner movedquickly towards him.

  "Fandor!"

  "Juve!"

  "What does this mean, Fandor?"

  "It means, Juve, that I am arrested in the place of Corporal Vinson!"

  "Nothing of the sort!... I arrive from London. I arrested Vinsonyesterday evening at Calais!"

  Fandor laughed: he could have roared with laughter.

  "My dear Juve," said he, "I should have to talk to you for two mortalhours before you would understand a word of this business!"

  Fandor turned to the thunderstruck Dumoulin, and said in a voice ofthe most exquisite politeness:

  "Commandant, I must state once for all that I am not CorporalVinson!... I am a journalist, whom you perhaps know by name: JeromeFandor, on the staff of _La Capitale_.... If you see me in thisuniform, this disguise, that relates to a series of events, details ofwhich I will give you with pleasure, as soon as I have reduced my ownideas to order.... As things stand, I am fortunate in meeting myfriend Juve, who, if you desire it, will confirm the truth of mystatement."

  Dumoulin, more and more nonplussed, started in turn at the detective,at the journalist, at his reporter.... With face red as a boiledlobster, he turned to Lieutenant Servin....

  When this farcical scene began, Servin had gone into his own office,and had given his secretary an order. The secretary had just returned.The lieutenant, having recorded the answer brought him, had just thatmoment returned to the commandant's office.

  Lieutenant Servin looked upset.

  "Commandant!" he gasped out.

  He turned to our detective.

  "Monsieur Juve!"

  He continued staring first at one man, then at the other.

  "An incredible thing has happened!... I have just heard of it!... Ihad given the order to have Corporal Vinson brought hereimmediately--the real Corporal Vinson--he whom Monsieur Juve arrestedunder the name of Butler: well, Commandant, it appears that onentering his cell they found him--dead!"

  "What is that you say?" asked Dumoulin and Juve together.

  "I say that he is dead," repeated the lieutenant.

  "But how?" questioned Juve.

  The lieutenant made a sign to the sergeant in charge.

  "Go for the medical officer."

  Some minutes passed in a silence that hummed with questions.

  A young assistant surgeon appeared.

  "Kindly explain what is wrong, Monsieur!" commanded Dumoulin.

  The surgeon spoke.

  "My commandant sent for me, about an hour ago. I was to attend to aprisoner who had fainted. This man, when crossing the rue duCherche-Midi, had suddenly lost consciousness. His warders could notrevive him. They carried him to his cell. They laid him on hispalliasse. When I arrived the man was dead."

  "Dead of what?" demanded Dumoulin.

  "A bullet in his heart," replied the surgeon.... "I ascertained thiswhen undressing him. The bullet will be found at the post-mortem: ithas probably lodged in the vertebral column."

  Dumoulin rose: paced the floor: he was greatly agitated.

  "Oh, come, come!" he cried. "People are not killed like that in theopen street!... It is unheard of! Unbelievable!... A bulletpresupposes a revolver--a weapon of percussion of some description--adetonation!... There is a noise, a sound!"

  Dumoulin went up to the young surgeon. There was a note of suspiciouscontempt in his question:

  "Are you quite sure of what you say?"

  "I am quite sure, Commandant."

  During this discussion Juve had approached Fandor. When the surgeonmade his statement, Juve murmured in Fandor's ear:

  "Vinson shot through the heart by a bullet!... Like Captain Brocq!...Killed undoubtedly by a noiseless weapon ... when crossing thestreet!... Here, again, is--Fantomas!"

  Things calmed down somewhat. Fandor addressed Dumoulin:

  "Excuse me, Commandant, for having troubled you. I should be mostgrateful if you would set me at liberty. One tragedy follows hard onanother! It is phenomenal!... I shall have to."...

  Commandant Dumoulin burst out:

  "By Heaven!" he shouted, thumping the table with his fist: "You arethe limit!... The take-the-cake limit!... You flout me! You practiseon my credulity!... Now you would steal a march on me! Try it on--willyou?... Ah! You are not Corporal Vinson!... No?... You are ajournalist!... You have got to prove that!... Even if you do proveit, you have got yourself into a pretty pickle by your fooling, bymaking a laughing-stock of the entire army in your own preposterousperson--by assuming that uniform!...

  "Guards!" shouted Dumoulin. "Take this man back to his cell! Be sharpabout it!... Double his guard!"

  Fandor was not allowed time to protest: he was marched off at thedouble.

  Juve tried to get in a word of explanation.

  "I assure you, Commandant, it is certainly Jerome Fandor you aredeal----"

  "You!" yelled the commandant. "Get out! Foot it!... Leave me in peace,can't you!... Out with you, or I'll know the reason why!...Begone!"...

  Dumoulin was apoplectic with rage.