The Blue Lights: A Detective Story

  CHAPTER XVIII

  For a few moments after being left alone in the studio at Passy, Gracealmost lost her courage. She knew that the man who had remained on guardin the room had received the danger signal--the red light--which toldhim that the plans of his confederates had miscarried. She rememberedthe instructions which the black-bearded man had given him. "If I do notmeet you at Martelle's, take the boy to Lavillac. And before you do so,cut off his left hand and send it to Mr. Stapleton."

  The very thought of the thing made her sick. She rushed to the door, andtore frantically at the knob; but it resisted all her efforts. Sheglanced at the windows, knowing that to escape by means of them from herposition on the top floor of the house was impossible. And then--shouldshe escape, she would be obliged to leave the child, and this she by nomeans wanted to do.

  Suddenly she heard again the faint moaning. The sound almost drove herfrantic. She rushed to the window and looked out, praying for guidance,for some ray of hope in the frightful situation in which she foundherself.

  Already several minutes had passed since the departure of the man. Itwould not be long, she felt, before he returned, and, for all she knew,the black-bearded man with him. Would they attack her, if they found herthere? She could hide again, of course; but that would not accomplishanything, except perhaps, to save herself. And she had set out to rescuethe child.

  In a whirl of indecision, she glanced out of the window, toward thepoint in the north where she had seen the red light. She wondered whereit was, from what place it had been sent. Then suddenly, as she sweptthe horizon with eager eyes, she saw, where a few moments before the redlight had flashed, a gleam of blue. Unlike the red signal, however,which had been steady, as though fixed in place, this one moved aboutrestlessly, now pointing full at her, now almost disappearing to theright or left.

  She seized the field glasses and gazed at the light in wonder. Did thismean that the kidnappers had been successful, after all, and that theformer signal had been a mistake, or did it indicate that the persongiving the first signal had been overpowered, and that the light was inthe hands of friends?

  She had no means of knowing; but here was someone who was trying to sendher word that all was well. She determined to reply.

  Her one thought was to get to Mr. Stapleton her present address. Sheknew that the man who had been intrusted with the task of telephoning itto the banker, would not now do so. She would try to send the addressherself.

  Then came to her a great feeling of joy, that she was familiar with theMorse code. Richard had taught it to her, during their trip from Paristo New York the year before. She remembered how she had been interestedin the wireless, and Richard had offered to teach her the alphabet.

  She picked up the searchlight and examined it. It was an ordinary pocketlamp, with a dry battery, such as are sold at stores dealing inelectrical goods, and she saw, from its size, that it was an unusuallypowerful one.

  Midway along one side was a tiny button, by pressing which the circuitwas completed, and the light made to flash. By pressing this buttonmomentarily, she could get a quick flash, comparable to a dot. Byholding it down longer, she could produce a dash.

  She did not stop to remove the red glass which was fixed over the frontof the light; in fact, she concluded that it would be better to let itremain. There were many white lights all about--among them, her ownwould have but a small chance of being seen. But red was significant,conspicuous, indicative of danger, and that she was in grave danger shevery well knew.

  She decided to first send the word "help." She knew that if the personreceiving the message was a friend, he would at once ask where she was,since that would be to Mr. Stapleton and his party the most essentialand important news she could give.

  On the other hand, were it to be received by one of the kidnappers, hewould ask her, not where she was, but what was the matter.

  Painfully, fearful of mistakes, she deciphered the message which slowlyflashed across the mile of night. "Where are you."

  Illustration: With trembling fingers she spelled out her reply, givingthe address and adding, "Come quick!"

  With trembling fingers, she spelled out her reply, giving the addressand adding, "Come quick." When she got the answer, "Will come at once,"she felt that there was still a chance that the boy might be saved. Thencame the request for her name. She gave this impatiently. Whatdifference did it matter, so long as they came quickly.

  She hastily lighted a candle which stood upon the table, then cast abouther for some means whereby she might prevent the black-bearded man andhis companion from entering the room, in case they should return beforehelp arrived. There was one thing, of course, that she could do,barricade the door.

  But, with the exception of the table and the light iron bed, there wasnothing with which she could hope to secure it. Suddenly her eyes fellupon the great plaster centaur. It was a figure such as one might see inany art gallery or museum. It stood upon a plaster slab some six inchesthick, which in turn rested upon a low wooden base. The figure was atleast five feet high--a horse with a human torso and head. She knew thatif she could jam this in front of the door, securing it in place withthe bed and table, she might prevent the kidnappers from entering forsome little time; long enough, she hoped, to insure the arrival of thepolice before they had succeeded in breaking in.

  She wondered if she could manage to move the thing. At first sight, itseemed impossible, and yet the base might by chance be fitted withrollers or casters. She rushed over to the figure and began to tug at itwith all her strength.

  She needed but a moment to discover that she could not possibly move it;but as she bent over it, her head close to its side, she heard somethingwhich made her start with sudden joy.

  It was the low sobbing of a child--the same moaning sound which she hadheard from time to time ever since she had first entered the room.

  At times the sound had appeared to come from afar off; at others, it hadseemed to be close at hand, as though originating at some point in thevery air about her.

  All of a sudden the truth came to her like a flash. The child wasconcealed within the hollow body of the statue. The thing seemed sosimple, so apparent, that she wondered that it had not occurred to herbefore.

  She gave up her attempt to barricade the door, and began feverishly tolook for the opening in the plaster cast through which the child musthave entered.

  It took but a few moments to find it. The whole side of the horse's bodyhad been sawed free, by two longitudinal cuts, one along the back, theother along the belly, and two similar cuts, at the shoulder, and theflank. Heavy strips of canvas, glued across the lower cut, on the underside of the horse's belly, served as hinges, and were not visible fromabove.

  She inserted the blade of a modeling tool which she caught up from thetable, in the upper longitudinal cut, and pried the plaster side of thehorse free. It fell heavily toward her, disclosing a long narrowopening; the interior, in fact, of the statue, where lay, upon a sort ofbed made of an old comfort, the missing son of Mr. Stapleton.

  The boy, who had evidently until a moment before been asleep, gazed upat her in surprised alarm. For over two weeks, now, he had been keptfrom his parents, made to move about from place to place, frightened bystrange men. He had come to expect the unusual, the terrifying, and itwas a scared little face that looked appealingly up at the girl as shebent over him.

  For the time being she forgot the dangers which surrounded them, in herjoy at the discovery of the boy. It had come so suddenly, sounexpectedly. If she could only escape, now, with the child, nothingelse would matter in the least. And between her and freedom there laybut the thickness of a single door, and yet it seemed that she could notpass it.

  She lifted the child from his hiding place and stood him upon the floor,then quickly swung the heavy slab of plaster back into position. Atleast, she reasoned, the kidnappers, when they returned, should not atonce learn that their captive had escaped.

  She knew that the hiding place had been b
ut a temporary one, a meanswhereby the child might be kept out of sight during the day in casestrangers should happen to enter the room. As soon as the kidnappersreturned, they would, she realized, spirit the child away to some moresecure retreat.

  She went to the door and again shook it frantically, pulling at the knobwith all her strength, without producing the slightest result. The lockwas evidently a strong one--the door held firm and unyielding, thoughshe threw against it her entire weight.

  Evidently there was no hope of escape here. Then she again bethoughtherself of the window. For a moment she gazed out into the darkness. Thepavement was thirty feet below. No one was in sight. How could she everreach the ground, with the child as well, even if she had possessed arope? The thing was impossible.

  Clearly there was nothing to do but wait. Possibly the assistance sheexpected from her friends, or the police, would arrive very soon--surelyshe could in some way keep the kidnappers occupied until then!

  And suddenly she realized that the time had come. She heard the door ofthe house close softly, and upon the stair the sound of mountingfootsteps.

  Which was it, the police, or the kidnappers? The latter, she feltmorally certain, since the former, in their haste to rescue the child,would beyond any question have arrived in an automobile, and at topspeed.

  The newcomers were mounting the stairs in a leisurely manner, as thoughfree from any anxiety. Grace heard them pause for a moment on the firstlanding, then start up the second flight of stairs. It seemed to her outof the question, to stand in the middle of the room and await theirentrance. At least she could postpone the fatal moment a little while,by hiding, with the boy, in the closet. She stepped into it, the child'shand in hers, and drew the door shut, just as the two men entered theroom. On her way, she hastily blew out the candle.

  They were the same two men that she had seen before,--the black-beardedman, now without his beard, and the artist, Durand. She saw this, assoon as the latter had relit the candle. She wondered if he would noticethat the wick was still warm. Evidently he did not; for they threwthemselves into chairs, lit cigarettes, and began to talk.

  "Now we can speak freely," said Durand. "How did things go?"

  "I got the money--gave the blue signal, and expected to be halfway toBrussels by now. What nonsense is this about a red light?"

  "It is no nonsense, I assure you. I saw it with my own eyes, as plain asday."

  "Then Francois must have made a mistake, or else he has been placedunder arrest--the latter, no doubt. Now the question is, What shall wedo? I think we ought to get out of Paris as soon as possible. It isn'tsafe to stay here." He looked about him nervously.

  "Why not? You didn't telephone Monsieur Stapleton this address, didyou?"

  "No, naturally not."

  "Then I don't see but what we are quite safe. No one knows the child ishere."

  "Then you don't intend to give him up?"

  "Not yet. I must first find out whether or not Francois is in trouble."

  "Let him look out for himself."

  The older man frowned. "Since when, my friend," he asked, "have I beenin the habit of deserting my comrades? Francois must go free, or Mr.Stapleton does not get his boy. That's flat. The first thing is to sendhis father something that will let him see that we mean business."

  "We've got to be sure about Francois, first."

  "I'll find that out, tonight. My plan is this. We must first get thechild away to Lavillac's place. This is too unsafe, here. Anyone mightcome in."

  "They'd have difficulty in finding the hiding place." The younger mangrinned.

  "That's all very well; but the other place is safer. Andthen--Lavillac's woman can look after the brat while we are away. What apity Francois had to get into a mess at the last moment! I hoped to berid of the boy, by now." The older man rose and began striding up anddown the room.

  "Well," he said at length, sharply, "we might as well get along. I movethat we wrap the boy in a coat, take him down to the car, run quicklyout to Lavillac's place, leave him there, and start for Brussels atonce. The rest we can do by 'phone. Francois set free--the boy the same.Meanwhile, we've got to show this man Stapleton we mean business; sowe'd better arrange to send him one of the kid's hands at once. If wedon't, he'll have the whole Paris police force after us."

  "All right. I'll get him out." He strode quickly over to the statue,pulled out the side, and gazed blankly into the empty space before him.

  "Sacre! The child's gone!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Somebody has beenhere--in this room--since I left it, half an hour ago."

  "The door was locked."

  "I know; but somebody's been here, nevertheless, for the child isgone."

  "He may not be gone, Durand. It is true that he is no longer in thehouse; but he may be in the room, for all that. Search the closet."

  The man named Durand stepped quickly to the closet door. "Not muchchance," he grumbled. "And if the police knew that he was here, and havespirited him away, they may even now be waiting to spring a trap ofwhich you and I are the rats. For all we know the place is surrounded atthis very moment."

  "Then the sooner we get away from it the better. Search the closet. Ifhe's not there, we'd better make tracks for the frontier as quickly aspossible. We can do nothing more without the child. Francois will haveto look out for himself."

  Durand went impatiently up to the closet door and flung it open, thenboth he and his companion recoiled in surprise as Grace stepped out,holding the child by the hand.

  "Mon Dieu!" gasped the two men in unison.

  The one who had worn the black beard was the first to recover himself."Quick!" he cried, motioning toward Grace. "The woman is a detective.Tie her up, and let's get away at once. No doubt she has sent word toher friends. We can't afford to stay here another minute." He seemedgreatly excited and, rushing to the window, inspected the silent streetbelow.

  Durand, meanwhile, had thrown himself upon the girl, seized her hands,and with a quick motion had secured them with a bit of cord he snatchedfrom within the closet.

  She offered no resistance, made no outcry. Both seemed equally useless.The boy stood by, watching the scene in childish wonder. So many queerthings had happened to him, however, during the past few days, that he,too, remained silent.

  In a moment the older man withdrew his head from the window, rushed tothe closet, and drawing out a long gray coat, wrapped it about thechild. "You will come along with us, Mademoiselle," he said sternly."Make no attempt to escape, if you value your life."

  "But what do we want with her?" the younger man asked, impatiently.

  "You fool! Would you leave her here, to give our description to thepolice? It would mean certain capture in a few hours. This woman has gotto be put where she can do no harm until we are safely over thefrontier. It may be wiser to silence her altogether. We'll decide aboutthat when we reach Lavillac's. The first thing is to get out of thishouse without losing a moment's time. Come!" He started for the door.

  As he did so, Grace heard, far off, the steady throbbing of anautomobile. She felt a wave of hope sweep over her. It might be herfriends, coming to her assistance. If so, they might yet arrive in time.

  The two men evidently also heard the sound. "Hurry--hurry!" the olderone urged, as they began to descend the stairs. "They may be on us atany moment. Go out the rear way."

  Grace heard the sounds of the approaching automobile growing more andmore distinct. In another minute it would stop before the door of thehouse. But in that minute her captors would not only have been able todescend the stairs, but would already be making good their escapethrough the garden at the rear of the building.

  She must do something, she knew, to prevent this; but what--what? Boundas she was, how could she hope to prevent the escape of these men. Shelooked ahead of her, to where, a step or two in advance, the man of theblack beard was hastily descending the stairs, the boy firmly held inhis arms. Behind her came his companion, candle in hand, close at herheels.

  They were
within half a dozen steps of the lower hall. From this shecould see a dark passageway, leading to the rear of the house. Alreadythe noise of the automobile without told her that it was stopping at thedoor. She heard the sound of rapid footsteps on the sidewalk; yetrealized that, before her friends could break in, their quarry wouldhave flown.

  Without a moment's hesitation she sprang forward, throwing her wholeweight upon the man in front of her.

  The sudden shock, as she precipitated herself upon his shoulders, threwhim off his balance, and he pitched forward headlong into the hallwaybelow. The two of them, together with the child, rolled in a tangledheap to the floor. The second man, candle in hand, stopped on the stairsand gazed helplessly down, not realizing for a moment what had happened.

  "Help! Help!" Grace screamed at the top of her voice, as she struggledto regain her feet, and at the same moment there came the sound of heavyblows upon the front door.

  The man who had been carrying the child rose to his feet with an oath,just as his companion joined him. He turned on Grace with a howl offury, and struck her a quick blow in the face. She had a confused visionof fleeing men, the dancing light of a candle, a rush of fresh air, andthen all was blotted out in a wave of oblivion.