The Blue Lights: A Detective Story

  CHAPTER VI

  Alphonse Valentin came up to Grace and took her roughly by the arm."Come with me," he said, and started up the street.

  At first she felt inclined to resist him. A signal to a passinggendarme, and she could have had the man placed under arrest. MonsieurLefevre had taken care to provide her with credentials that would insureher obtaining instant assistance from any member of the police.

  Then another thought came to her. This man Valentin she very muchdesired to see. His position, clinging to the rear of the automobile,indicated that he was in all probability not a confederate of thekidnappers. Just what he was, she could not imagine. She determined togo along with him, and hear what he had to say.

  A few minutes' walk brought them to the man's lodgings. For somereason, which she did not understand, the automobile in which she hadbeen a prisoner had stopped on the Boulevard St. Michel within a shortdistance of Valentin's rooms.

  When they reached the house, Valentin, instead of opening the door witha key, rang the bell. The woman who had previously admitted Grace cameto the door. Valentin nodded.

  "Is this the woman?" he asked.

  "Yes," said the landlady, recognizing her at once. "This is the one."

  "Good!" Valentin closed the door and led the way to his room. Gracefollowed, wondering what the man intended to do.

  "Why have you come here twice during the past two days?" he asked,abruptly, after he had lit the lamp and carefully shut the door.

  Grace determined to be quite frank with him. "I wanted to ask you somequestions, Monsieur Valentin," she replied.

  "Ha! You know my name?"

  "Certainly."

  He appeared somewhat uneasy. "What are you up to?"

  "I am trying to find Mr. Stapleton's child."

  A queer smile came over the fellow's face. "Is that why you stole thecigarettes?" he asked.

  "I did not steal them. They were taken by a man with a black beard, whocame in through the window when I was here."

  "A black beard?" He smiled incredulously. "And you let him take them."

  "Yes. Why not? Were they of such great value?"

  He glanced about uneasily, but did not reply to her question. "Who wasthe man?" he presently asked.

  "I do not know. I followed him. He entered Mr. Stapleton's house."

  "Sacre! It must have been Francois!"

  "Hardly. Francois has no beard."

  "But he might have been disguised." He seemed very much perturbed. "Whata pity I was so careless!"

  "Monsieur Valentin, will you please tell me what those cigarettes haveto do with the kidnapping of Mr. Stapleton's child?"

  He looked at her closely for a moment. "Everything," he answeredgloomily, "and--nothing. I was a fool to have left them here."

  Grace began to feel more and more composed. This man did not talk likeone of the band of criminals. "Do you know where the child is?" shesuddenly asked.

  "Perhaps." He observed her narrowly. "Do you?"

  "No. If I did, I should restore him to his poor mother."

  "What were you doing in that automobile?"

  "I was a prisoner. And you?"

  Again he evaded her question. "It is my own affair," he growled.

  "Did you not see who it was that drove the car?" she asked.

  Instead of replying, he flung himself into a chair. "Sit down,Mademoiselle, and tell me the whole story. If I find that you are frankwith me, I promise to be equally so with you."

  Suddenly Grace felt an intuition that the man was honest. She determinedto do as he asked. "Very well. I will tell you the truth. I am trying torecover Mr. Stapleton's child. Last night I was watching the house. Iwas seized from behind, thrown into an automobile, and taken--I do notknow where. This morning a message to Mr. Stapleton was given me.Tonight I was brought here, blindfolded, in an automobile. Then I metyou. That is all I know."

  Valentin appeared disappointed. "Then you do not know where the childis?" he asked.

  "The child is where I was--I saw it."

  As Grace said this, her companion leaped excitedly from his chair. "Thenwe have them!" he cried.

  "I do not understand."

  "Mademoiselle, this evening I was watching Monsieur Stapleton's house.Like yourself, I desire to recover the child. I saw Francois leave inMonsieur Stapleton's automobile. I climbed in behind, as he left thehouse. It was dark. He did not see me. He drove out toward Versailles."

  "Toward Versailles?" exclaimed Grace.

  "Yes. Why do you seem so surprised."

  "Never mind. Go on."

  "After a time, he stopped by the roadside. I got out, and hid in theshadow of some trees. Presently you were brought, blindfolded, by a man,who entered the car with you. When it again started, I climbed onbehind. That is how I came to meet you."

  "Then you don't know where the house is, from which I was brought?"

  "No. There are many houses--all about. There was no way of knowing, inthe dark. Did you come far--when they brought you to the automobile?"

  "Yes. Several hundred yards, at least. But you know the spot, on theroadside?"

  "Yes. I can find it, without difficulty."

  "Monsieur Valentin, I have a plan--a very dangerous plan--for recoveringMr. Stapleton's boy. I cannot tell you what it is now. Tomorrow I willtell you--tomorrow afternoon. I shall want your assistance."

  "What am I to do?"

  "Can you drive an automobile?"

  The man smiled. "Decidedly. It is my profession."

  "Splendid! You will wait for me here, and I will come, and tell you whatyou are to do. I shall arrive not later than six o'clock." She rose."Now I must go; but before I do so, tell me one thing. What is themystery of the gold-tipped cigarettes?"

  Her question seemed to drive from Valentin's face all the good naturethat had dwelt there the moment before. "I cannot tell you that," hegrowled. "You must not ask me. Let me advise you to drop the matter ofthe cigarettes, and report your message to Mr. Stapleton at once."

  For a moment, Grace almost regretted her frankness. Suppose, after all,he should prove to be but a confederate of the kidnappers, in leaguewith Mary Lanahan, the nurse, to spirit the boy away in the first place,and now sent by them, in the guise of a spy clinging to the rear of theautomobile, to find out what step she proposed to take to capture them?She paused in indecision. Suddenly there was a tapping upon the door ofthe room.

  Valentin went to the door and cautiously opened it. The landlady stoodon the landing outside. "There is a man to see you, at the door below,Monsieur," she said in a low tone.

  "Who is it?"

  "I do not know. He gives the name of Victor Girard."

  "Very well. Send him up."

  Grace heard the name--Victor Girard. A sudden wave of weakness sweptover her. It was Richard! He had used the name frequently, in the past.She heard him ascending the short flight of stairs. There was no escape.Yet Monsieur Lefevre particularly insisted that he should not recognizeher. She hastily drew down her veil. "Get rid of him as soon as youcan," she whispered to Valentin, and shrunk back into the shadow.

  Duvall came in, glancing sharply about him. He had been waiting to seeValentin since early in the evening, and had inquired for him twicebefore, only to find that he was out.

  "What can I do for you, Monsieur?" inquired Valentin.

  The detective drew the note from his pocket--the note which Mary Lanahanhad sent to Valentin, and which Duvall had intercepted. "This is foryou, Monsieur?" he asked, then suddenly paused, astounded. In the dimlight, he caught sight of Grace, standing on the opposite side of theroom, watching him closely. "I--I thought--Monsieur--I thought you werealone," he gasped, his eyes fixed on Grace as though he had seen aghost. "I--I beg your pardon, but--" He was unable to proceed.

  Valentin looked at him in amazement. "What is it, my friend?" he askedsharply. "Tell me your business, if you please, and go. I have avisitor."

  "Yes--Monsieur--so--so I see." Duvall pulled himself together with amighty effo
rt and turned his glance to Valentin. He had suffered a greatshock. For a moment he would have been ready to swear that Grace, hisdear wife, stood before him in the flesh--and yet the thing was anabsurdity: Grace, with her golden brown hair, her clear complexion, wasthree thousand miles away! This woman, dark, typically French, was quiteevidently an entirely different person; yet the resemblance wasstartling--he felt himself shaking in every fiber.

  "Well, Monsieur, give me the letter, since you say it is for me," heheard Valentin saying.

  In an instant he had recovered his self possession. "Here," heexclaimed, handing the note to the man before him. "It is from MaryLanahan. I have read it."

  "You have read it, Monsieur!" Valentin exclaimed, angrily. "By whatright, then, do you presume to read my letters?" He took the note andhurriedly read its contents. "Sacre!" he exclaimed. "What does thismean?"

  "It means, my friend, that I want that box of gold-tipped cigarettes."

  Grace started. So Richard, too, was interested in the recovery of thesemysterious cigarettes. What on earth, she wondered, could it mean?

  "In the first place, Monsieur, let me inform you that I have nocigarettes, gold-tipped or otherwise. In the second place, I questionyour right to make any such demands."

  "Does not the note from Mary Lanahan request you to destroy them?"

  Valentin turned pale. "I tell you I have no such cigarettes!" he cried.

  "Are they not the sort, then, that you usually smoke?"

  "I do not smoke at all, Monsieur."

  Duvall laughed. "So you both tell the same story, it seems. My friend, Idislike to discuss these matters before a stranger." He glancedsignificantly at Grace.

  She dared not go. To speak--even to bid Valentin good evening, would,she felt sure, betray her. So she remained silent.

  "Then take yourself off. I certainly have no desire to discuss them. Itell you, I do not smoke--I have no cigarettes--that is enough!"

  "What does that note mean, then?" asked Duvall sternly.

  "That is Miss Lanahan's affair--and mine."

  Duvall drew out his pocketbook, and extracted from it the bit ofcigarette stump, with the gold tip, which he had found that morning inthe Bois de Boulogne. "Monsieur Valentin," he said, "I found this end ofa cigarette at the exact place in the grass, in the Bois de Boulogne,where Mr. Stapleton's child and nurse were, when the boy was stolen. Thechauffeur was asleep. You could readily have walked up, taken away thechild, and no one would have been the wiser. The story of Mary Lanahan,that no one came near her, that the boy disappeared into thin air, isabsurd. The presence of the half-smoked cigarette, of a kind which Ihave reason to believe you use, convinces me that you were there in theBois, with the nurse, at the time of the kidnapping--if indeed you didnot take an active part in it. The message from Mary Lanahan, which Ihave just handed you, directing you to destroy the cigarettes,--which,no doubt, she feared, after my questioning, might be used as evidenceagainst you,--serves as strong additional proof. I believe that you knowwhere Mr. Stapleton's child is."

  The statements which her husband made convinced Grace that she had madea mistake in confiding in Valentin. She herself had seen thegold-tipped cigarettes on his table--had seen them stolen. It was notvery conclusive evidence, she realized; but, taken with the nurse'sletter, it was significant.

  Valentin, however, did not appear to be greatly alarmed by thedetective's charges. "You are mistaken, Monsieur," he said quietly. "Iknow nothing about the affair."

  "Then what does this note mean?"

  "That I cannot tell you. And, if you have any other questions to ask, Ibeg that you will come again--at another time. I, as you see, am engagedfor the moment." He indicated Grace with a glance.

  Duvall looked about, then turned to the door. His object in coming hadbeen fulfilled. He had seen Valentin--located him--he hoped frightenedhim. It was one of his theories that a man, frightened by the knowledgethat he is being closely pursued, is far more likely to make a falsestep, than one who fancies himself secure.

  He darted a curious glance at Grace, as he left the room; but her face,concealed in the shadow, told him nothing. Her silent presence filledhim with strange disquietude. He stationed himself outside the doorwayof the house, determined to learn, if possible, who she was, byfollowing her, when she left the place. He had not counted on Valentin'sbeing with her.

  The two left the house together, and the man at once called a cab. Intothis he put Grace, all the while eying Duvall savagely. The latter gaveup all ideas of pursuing Grace, and returned, somewhat disgruntled, tohis hotel. He had barely reached it, when a message was brought to him,summoning him to Mr. Stapleton's house.

  Grace, meanwhile, had driven at once to the banker's, and delivered tohim the message with which she had been intrusted by the man in theblack mask that morning.

  Mr. Stapleton's face grew more and more angry as she proceeded with herstory. He jumped up, as soon as he learned the purport of it, and,ringing up Duvall's hotel, requested the detective to come to him atonce. Then he turned to Grace.

  "You have no idea where this place is located?"

  "Not the slightest."

  "You say you saw my boy? He was safe?"

  "I saw a child, which I was told was yours, Mr. Stapleton. I did notrecognize him, of course. You know I have never seen your son. Also, hewas dressed as a girl."

  Mr. Stapleton produced a photograph with nervous haste. "Was he likethis?" he demanded.

  "Yes. It was the same." There was sufficient resemblance, even in thedisguise the boy wore, for Grace to be practically certain of hisidentity.

  "How am I to know that these scoundrels will keep their word?" Mr.Stapleton groaned, his head on his hands.

  "Do you intend, then, to give them the money?"

  "Certainly. Do you suppose I would take any chances, for the matter of ahundred thousand dollars--or twice as much, for that matter? His motherand I are unable to sleep, to eat, to do anything in fact, under thestrain of this thing. I shall by all means do as they ask."

  "But they will get away."

  "That is nothing to me. Let them. Once my boy is safe, I can spendanother hundred thousand to catch them; but not now--when one false stepmight mean his death."

  "They won't harm him, Mr. Stapleton. They are too anxious for themoney, to let anything happen to him."

  "I'll take no chances."

  Grace rose. "Then I might as well be going," she said. "I don't see thatI can do anything more. I shall report the matter to the Prefect ofPolice at once."

  "Very well. And be good enough to say to him that I particularly desirethat no steps be taken to prevent the carrying out of the plan. I shallpay this money and regain my boy. After that, the police may do as theylike. Good evening."

  "Good evening." Grace left the house, feeling singularly disappointed,in spite of the fact that Mr. Stapleton's decision apparently meant thatRichard's work in Paris, as well as her own, was likely to be brought toa sudden termination.

  As she was leaving the house, she saw Richard drive up in a cab. Thesight of him filled her with joy; although she was forced to conceal it,and pass him by with a look of indifference. In the darkness, she knewshe was safe. He recognized her of course,--recognized her, that is, asthe woman he had seen in Valentin's room,--and her presence here at Mr.Stapleton's house evidently filled him with surprise. For a moment, shethought he was about to speak to her, as he descended from his cab; butshe turned away and hurried down the street, and when she looked back,he had entered the house.