X
"To cut it short, Greville, she refused to be questioned, and, Ifancy, lied rather more plainly than she was willing to admit to me.He went away furious and reasonably sure, or so I think, that she hadthe papers."
"I see," said I. "He had been careless. Of course, he hesitated for aday or two to confess his loss. But what about those papers? Where arethey? She ought to have taken them at once to the legation."
"Yes, but that is easily explained. The count called early, and afterthat she felt sure that she would be promptly arrested. He was tooashamed to go at once to any such length. He must be an indecisiveman. At all events, he took no positive action until after ourencounter and her escape, when he became still more sure where shewas going and why. You see, he lacked the good sense to confessinstantly to the head of his office. Arrest would have beeninstantaneous. He waited, ashamed to confess, and I presume did notfully inform the police he called in. Now, I suppose, he has had toconfess his loss to his superiors."
"But these papers?" said I.
"Well, don't hurry me. When she got home that night and read thepapers she had--well, taken, she saw their enormous value to ourgovernment. Their importance increased her alarm, and the count'svisit added to her sense of need to conceal somewhere the proofs ofher guilt. After her first fatal delay of the next morning, she wasafraid to carry the papers to the legation. She could trust no one.She believed the Emperor's minister would act at once. She knew that,soon or late, her town house would be searched. To keep the papersabout her would not do. She must hide them at once, and then we musthear of them; and no letters would serve her purpose. She waspanic-stricken. I fancy the count, having been careless, was asanxious, but told no one that day. This gave her a chance until luckplayed her a trick. The count's interview in the morning, while itfrightened her, had not helped him. The next day his superiors wouldhave to be told, and I have no doubt have been.
"Then, as you know, it came his turn to have a bit of good fortune.Walking in haste to escape a ducking, he must have turned into the Ruedu Roi de Rome to get a cab, and was just in time to see her enteryour carriage. Very likely he did not see you at all. Indeed, we maybe sure that he did not. When, too, the count saw that, in place ofturning homeward, she was being driven toward the Bois, his suspicionswere at once aroused. I ought to say that, to avoid using her owncarriage, she had set out to walk. She was not yet watched, though shemay have thought she was, and her plan was a good one. Curious andtroubled, he caught a cabriolet and followed, as was natural enough.
"The direction of your flight through the Bois confirmed hissuspicions. He may have guessed, and he was right, that she was aboutto go to her well-known little country house and meant to hide thepapers. I am trying to follow what must have been his course ofthought and would have been mine. He would catch her and get them,even at the cost of arresting her. So far this is in part her accountand in part my inferences. As we talked thus at length, she was againindescribably uneasy and took every one who passed for a spy."
"Well," said I, "I do not wonder. The court is cool to us. Somethinghostile to our country is going on between France and England. TheEnglish abuse is exhausting their adjectives. If they proposeintervention in any shape, Mr. Adams has instructions of which everyAmerican should be proud."
"Good!" cried Merton. "We have not put forth our power, and peopleover here do not dream of the way in which we could and would rise tomeet new foes. But here is our own little battle. I have yet to tellyou what she did and my further reflections. After you got her awayfrom the count, and Alphonse guided her, she walked through the rainin the darkness to her small chalet beyond the Bois."
"But," said I, "why did not the count follow and get there, as hecould have done, before her?"
"I do not know. He was, you said, a bit dazed and his head cut.Probably he felt it to be needful to secure aid from the police, as hedid later."
"Yes, that must have been the case."
"Her old American nurse has charge of the chalet. At times madamespends a few days there. She explained her condition as the result ofa carriage accident, and, I fancy, must have taken her nurse into herconfidence. She did not tell me. A fire was made in her boudoir, and,with some change of dress, she sat down to think. She knew that, soonor late, the count must confess his loss, and then that the wholepolice force of Paris would concentrate its skill first on preventingher from using the papers, and finally on securing them. They would atonce suspect that she had made her singular dash for the chalet toconceal the papers, as the count must have inferred. She was one womanagainst the power, intelligence, and limitless resources of an army.If the count acted with reasonable promptness, the time left her tohide the papers was likely to be short.
"She had adopted and dropped one plan after another as she walkedthrough the night. Then, as she sat in despair, she had aninspiration. The fireplace was kept, after the common American way,full of unremoved wood ashes. It suggested a resource. To lessen thesize of the package she hastily removed the many envelops of thecontained papers and also the thick double outside cover. Then shetied them together, raked away the newly made fire, and setting thelessened package on the hearth, far back, piled the cold ashes overit. It was safe from combustion. Finally, she replaced the cinders andset on top some burning twigs and a small log or two. The fire wassoon burning brightly. For a few minutes she sat thinking that shemust burn the envelops. It was now late. The gate-bell rang. Threehours had gone by since she left the count. In great haste she tore upthe thick outside envelops and other covers and hastily scatteredthem on the flames. She did succeed in burning the larger part of thecovers, and only by accident, or rather by reason of her haste, was,as I shall tell you, lucky enough to leave unburned a bit of the outercover. However, she piled on more twigs, and had settled herself bythe fire when her nurse entered in company with a man in civiliandress and two of the police. They used little ceremony and said simplythat she was believed to have certain papers. Best to give them up andsave trouble. Of course, she denied the charge and was indignant. Thenthey made a very complete search, after which two of them remainedwith her, and the other, leaving, came back in an hour with a womanwho went with her to her room and there made a very rigorous personalsearch of her own and her nurse's garments. She, of course, protestedvigorously. At last, returning to her boudoir, she found the man incivilian dress kneeling beside the fire. She was in an agony ofalarm. The man had gathered the fragments of half-burned paper, andwhen she entered was staring at the unconsumed corner of the outerofficial envelop. Without a word, he raked away the fire and a part ofthe ashes, but seeing there no evidence of interest, contented himselfwith what proof he had of the destruction of the documents he sought.The appearance of much burned paper and the brightly blazing fire, Isuppose, helped to confirm his belief. To her angry protests hereplied civilly that it was a matter for his superiors. Finally, anofficer was left in charge, but she was allowed to send for a carriageand to return home. It is clear that they are not satisfied, and thehouse has been watched ever since. Of course, the man who found thecharred fragments of the official envelop concluded that she hadburned the contents. But some one else who knows their value willdoubt."
"I suppose so. They were less clever than usual."
"No; her haste saved her. The unburned corner of the envelop fooledthe man. How could he dream that under a hot fire, cool and safe, werepapers worth a fortune?"
"Certainly this time the luck is hers," said I; "but this will notsatisfy them."
"No. More than once since they have been over the house and garden andutterly devastated it, so says her nurse. They searched a tool-houseand a small conservatory. Madame Bellegarde has been cool enough to gothere for flowers, but is in the utmost apprehension. And now ten dayshave passed."
"Is that all?"
"No. She has been questioned pretty brutally over and over, but as yetthey have not searched her town house. They are sure that the papersare in the villa."
"Well, what n
ext?" I asked.
"She says we must get those papers. That is our business."
"It will be difficult," I returned; "and there should be no delay. Itmust be done, and done soon. You or I would have found her cache."
"No, I should not; but if those people are still in doubt, as seems tobe the case, and decide that no one but a fool would have burned thedocuments, some fellow with a little more imaginative capacity to puthimself in her place will find them.
"By the way," added Merton, "she described the house to me. Now let usthink it over. I shall be here at nine to-morrow morning. When Ireturn, you will give me your own thoughts about it. Given a housealready watched day and night, how to get a paper out of it? No onewill be allowed to leave it without being overhauled. The old nurse,you may be sure, will be searched and followed, even when she goes tomarket. To communicate with madame would not be easy, and would giveus no further help and only hurt her. It is so grave a matter that thepolice, after another search, will arrest Mme. Bellegarde secretlyand, if possible, scare her into confession. We have no time to lose.It must be done, too, in some simple way. For her sake we must avoidviolence, and whatever is done must be done by us."
"But, Merton, how can we get into the house, even if we enter thegarden unseen?"
"Oh, I forgot to say that she has said she would contrive to tell hernurse to leave the conservatory unlocked, and also the door between itand the house. I told you she has been there twice. On each occasionshe was watched, but was allowed to enter and pick flowers. She feelssure of being able to warn the nurse. We must give her a day. But whydo they not arrest her? That would have been my first move."
I replied: "Her late husband's people are Bonapartists and veryinfluential. It would have to be explained, and the situation is anawkward one. The mere destruction of the papers is not what they mostdesire; neither do they want the loss known, and very likely theydesire to conceal it as long as possible from the Emperor. I have beenunable to think of any plan. Has the night left you any wiser?"
"I? Yes, indeed. I have a plan--a good one and simple. When I was aboy and coveted apples, one fellow got over the fence and attractedthe attention of the farmer, while the other secured apples in a farcorner of the orchard. Don't you see?"
"No, I do not."
"Well, it is simple. Just see how easy it is. We attract the attentionof the guards, and then one of us goes into the house."
"But," said I, "if he meets there a resolute guard."
"And if," said Merton, "the guard is met by a more resolute man, letus say, with a revolver."
"Merton, it is a thing to be done without violence."
"Or not at all?" queried Merton, with what I may call an examiningglance.
"No, I did not say that."
The captain, I suppose, understood my state of mind, for he said: "Ifeel as you do. You are quite right; but if it becomes needful to usepositive means,--I say positive means to get these papers,--then--" Ishook my head and he went on, "You may rest assured that I shall useno violence unless I am obliged to do so."
"You will have no chance," said I, "because I, as a member of thelegation, must be the one to enter the house. No one else should. Youmay readily see why."
Merton was disappointed, and in fact said so, while admitting that Iwas in the right. He looked grave as he added: "We are playing agame, you and I, in which, quite possibly, the fate of our country isinvolved, and, also, the character and fate of a woman. If we win, noone can convict her of having taken these papers. On their side therewill be no hesitation. There should be none on ours."
I said nothing to relieve his evident doubt as to the spirit withwhich I had undertaken a perilous venture. I, on my part, simplyinsisted that the larger risk must be mine. He finally assented with alaugh, saying he was sorry to miss the fun of it. After some carefulconsideration of his plan and of our respective shares in carrying itout, he went away, leaving me to my reflections. They would, Ipresume, have amused and surprised the man who had just left me. I hadled a quiet, studious life, and never once had I been where it wasrequisite to face great danger or possible death. I had often wonderedwhether I possessed the form of courage which makes certain men morecompetent, the greater the peril. As I sat I confessed to myself anentire absence of the joy in risks with which Merton faced ourventure, but at the same time I knew that I was not sorry for a chanceto satisfy myself in regard to an untested side of my own character. Iknew, too, that I should be afraid, but would that lessen mycompetence? I had a keen interest in the matter, and was well awarethat there was very real danger and possible disgrace if we werecaught in a position which we could not afford to explain.