XV
The duel had been duly discussed at the clubs, and it is probable thatno one suspected Merton of any other purpose. The baron was eager andBelgium a common resort for duels. On the same day after thesecretary's departure for London, Merton took the train for Brusselswith Lieutenant West, the baron and his friends, Count le Moyne andthe colonel. The captain had the papers fastened under his shirt, and,as I learned later, was well armed. Not the least suspicion wasentertained in regard to our double errand, and, as I had talkedfreely of being one of the seconds, I was able to follow them, as faras I could see, unwatched, except by Alphonse, who promptly reportedme to his other employers as having gone to Belgium as one ofMerton's friends.
In the evening we met Le Moyne and the little colonel at thesmall town of Meule, just over the border, and settled the usualpreliminaries. The next day at 7 A.M. we met on an open grassy spacewithin a wood. The lieutenant had the precious papers. We steppedaside. The word was given and the blades met. Merton surprised me. Itis needless to enter into details. He was clearly no match forPorthos, but his wonderful agility and watchful blue eyes served himwell. Then, of a sudden, there was a quicker contest. The baron'ssword entered Merton's right arm above the elbow. The seconds ran into stop the fight, but as the baron was trying to recover his blade,instead of recoiling, Merton threw himself forward, keeping thebaron's weapon caught in his arm, and thrust madly, driving hisown sword downward through the baron's right lung. Then both menstaggered back and Porthos fell.
I hurried Merton away to an inn, where the wound his own act had madeserious was dressed. Although in much pain, he insisted on our leavinghim at once. Lieutenant West and I crossed the Channel that night. Atnoon next day Mr. Adams had the papers and this queer tale which, as Isaid, is unaccountably left out of his biography. I have oftenwondered where, to-day, are those papers.
The count remained with Porthos at a farm-house near by. He made aslow recovery, the colonel complaining bitterly that M. Merton'smethods lacked the refinement of the French duel.
The papers contained, among other documents, a rough draft of a letterdated October 15, 1862, from M. Drouyn de Lhuys proposing interventionto the courts of England and Russia. It appeared in the Frenchjournals about November 14, when the crisis had passed. Mr. Adamsacted on the manly instructions of Mr. Seward, and Mr. Gladstone livedto change his opinions on this matter, as in time he changed almostall his opinions. Madame Bellegarde, unknown to history, had saved thesituation. The English minister declined the French proposals.
Soon after I returned, Madame Bellegarde reappeared, and, as soon ashe was well enough, Merton went to see her. She had been released,as we supposed she would be, with a promise to say nothing of herexamination, and she kept her word. I thought it as well not to callupon her, but when Merton told me of his visit I was malicious enoughto ask whether he had returned to her the ribbon. To this he repliedthat I had a talent for observation and that I had better ask her.She had been ordered to leave France for six months. I am under theimpression that he wrote to her and she to him. The thrust in hisarm, which would otherwise have been of small moment, his own decisiveact had converted into a rather bad open wound, and, as it healed veryslowly, under advice he resigned from the army and for a time remainedin Paris, where we were much together. In December he left for Italy.I was not surprised to receive in the spring an invitation to themarriage of the two actors in this notable affair. I ought to add thatLe Moyne lost his place in the Foreign Office, but, being of aninfluential family, was later employed in the diplomatic service.
Circumstances, as Alphonse remarked, made it desirable for him todisappear. Merton was additionally generous and my valet married andbecame the prosperous master of a well-known restaurant in New York.
XVI
Late in 1868 Merton rejoined the army, and I did not see him againuntil in 1869, when I was American minister at The Hague. In June ofthat year Colonel and Mrs. Merton became my guests. When I told Mrs.Merton that Count le Moyne was the French ambassador in Holland, shesaid to her husband:
"I told you we should meet, and really I should like to tell him howsorry I was for him."
"I fancy," said I, "that the count will hardly think a return to thatlittle corner of history desirable."
"Even," said Merton, laughing, "with the belated consolation of thepenitence of successful crime."
"But I am not, I never was penitent. I was only sorry."
"Well," said I, "you will never have the chance to confess yourregret."
I was wrong. A week later the countess left cards for my guests, andan invitation to dine followed. If Merton hesitated, Mrs. Merton didnot, and expecting to find a large official dinner, we agreed among usthat the count had been really generous and that we must all accept.In fact, if Mrs. Merton might be embarrassed by meeting in his ownhouse the man she had so seriously injured, Merton and I were at ease,seeing that we were entirely unknown to the count as having beenreceivers of the property which so mysteriously disappeared.
We were met by the count and Madame le Moyne with the utmostcordiality. To my surprise, there were no other guests. All of thosethus brought together may have felt just enough the awkwardness of theoccasion to make them quick to aid one another in dispersing theslight feeling of aloofness natural to a situation unmatched in mysocial experience.
The two women were delightful, the menu admirable, the wines pastpraise. It was an artful and agreeable _lever du rideau_, and I knewit for that when, at a word from the count, the servants left us atthe close of the meal. Then, smiling, he turned to Mrs. Merton andsaid:
"Perhaps, madame, you may have understood that in asking you all hereand alone I had more than the ordinary pleasant reasons. If in theleast degree you object to my saying more, we will consider that Ihave said nothing, and," he added gaily, "we shall then chat of Racheland the June exhibition of tulips."
It was neatly done, and Mrs. Merton at once replied: "I wish to sayfor myself that I have for years desired to talk freely with you ofwhat is no doubt in your mind just now."
"Thank you," he returned; "and if no one else objects,"--and no onedid,--"I may say that, apart from my own eager desire to ask youcertain questions, my wife has had, for years, what I may call chroniccuriosity."
"Oh, at times acute!" cried the countess.
"Her curiosity is, as you must know, in regard to certain mattersconnected with that mysterious diplomatic affair in the autumn of1862. It cost me pretty dear."
"And me," said the countess, "many tears."
Mrs. Merton's face became serious. She was about to speak, when thecount added: "Pardon me. I am most sincere in my own wish not toembarrass you, our guests, and if, on reflection, you feel that ourvery natural curiosity ought to die a natural death, we will dismissthe matter. Tell me, would you prefer to drop it?"
"Oh, no. I, too, am curious." And, turning to her husband, "Arthur, Iam sure you will be as well pleased as I."
Merton said: "I am entirely at your service, count. How is it,Greville?"
"But," said the count, interposing, "what has M. Greville to do withit, except as we know that his legation profited by madame's--may Isay--interference?"
"I like that," laughed Mrs. Merton, "interference. There is nothing soamiable as the charity of time."
"Ah," said I, laughing, "I, too, had a trifling share in the business.Let us all agree to be frank and to consider as confidential for someyears to come what we hear. I am as curious as the countess."
"And no wonder," said the count. "Of course enough got out to makeevery _chancellerie_ in Europe wonder how Mr. Adams was able to reportthe opinions and even the words of the emperor and his foreignsecretary to Lord John."
"Well," said Mrs. Merton, "I am still faintly penitent, but this is adelightful inquisition. Pray go on. I shall be frank."
"To begin with, I may presume that you took those papers."
"Stole them," said Mrs. Merton.
"Oh, madame! Why did you not take them at once
to Mr. Dayton?"
"I was too scared. I was alarmed when I saw the emperor's handwriting.Was he cross?"
"Oh, I had later a bad quarter of an hour."
"I am sorry. And now you are quite free to tell me next--that I--well,fibbed to you. I did. But lying is not forbidden in the decalogue."
"What about false witness?" cried the countess, amused.
"That hardly covers the ground, but," said Mrs. Merton, "I do notdefend myself."
The count laughed. "You did it admirably, and for a half-day I was indoubt. In fact, to confess, I was in such distress that I did not knowwhat to do. The resume I was to make for the emperor ought to havebeen made at the Foreign Office. I was rash enough to take the papershome."
"But why did you not arrest me at once?"
"Will madame look in the glass for an answer? You were--well, a lady,your people loyal, and I was frantic for a day. I hesitated until Isaw you driving toward the Bois de Boulogne in a storm. What followedyou know."
"Yes."
"You concealed the papers, and the police for a while thought you hadburned them. You were clever."
"Not very," said Mrs. Merton. "I tried to burn all the big doubleenvelops, but the men hurried me."
"I see," returned the count. "Your ruse, if it was that, deceivedthem, delayed things, and then the papers somehow were removed. Andhere my curiosity reaches a climax. It puzzled me for years, and, as Iknow, has puzzled the police."
"But why?" asked I.
"The pistol-shots were, of course, believed to have been a means ofdecoying away the guard. The old caretaker was found in her room andthe room locked. She was greatly alarmed at the cries and the shots,and for a while would not open the door."
Mrs. Merton laughed. "Ah, my good old nurse."
"But the man in charge of the house never left it, or so he said, andthe doors, all of them, were locked."
"Indeed!" I exclaimed. "That dear old nurse."
"The police found no trace of what might have been present if a manhad entered--I mean muddy footmarks in the house."
"No," I said; "that was pure accident. I took off my shoes when I wentin, but with no thought of anything except the noise they might make."
"And," remarked Le Moyne, "of course any footprints there wereoutside had been partly worn away by the rain. None of any use werefound, and besides for days the police had tramped over every foot ofthe garden."
"Not to leave you puzzled," said Merton, "and really it must have beenrather bewildering, I beg that Greville tell you the whole story."
"With pleasure," I said. "Colonel Merton and I were the burglars"; andthereupon I related our adventure.
"No one suspected you," said the count; "but what astonishes me themost is the concealment under a blazing fire of things as easilyburned as papers. I see now, but even after the ashes were thrownabout by you, the police refused to believe they could have been usedto safeguard papers. I should like to tell your story to our old chiefof police. He is now retired."
"I see no objection," said I.
"Better not," said Merton. "My wife's share should not, even now, betold."
"You are right," said the countess, "quite right. But how did it occurto you, Madame Merton, to use the ashes as you did?"
"Let me answer," said the colonel. "Any American would know howcompletely ashes are non-conductors of heat. I knew of their use onone occasion in our Civil War to hide and preserve the safe-conduct ofa spy."
"And," said I, "their protective power explains some of the so-calledmiracles when, as in Japan, men walk over what seems to be a bed ofglowing red-hot coals."
"How stupid the losing side appears," said the count, "when one hearsall of both sides!"
"But," asked the countess, "how did you get the papers to London? Itseems a simple thing, but my husband will tell you that never havethere been such extreme measures taken as in this case. The emperorwas furious, and yet to the end every one was in the dark."
"You must have played your game well," said Le Moyne.
"Luck is a very good player," I said, "and we had our share."
"Ah, there was more than luck when no amount of cross-questioningcould get a word out of Madame Merton."
"My husband insists that I have never been able to make up for thatlong silence."
We laughed as the count said: "One can jest over it now, but at thetime the only amusement I got out of the whole affair was when yourdummy envelop came back from London with a savage criticism of thepolice by our not overpleased embassy in England. I did want to laugh,but M. de Lhuys did not."
"And the original papers?" insisted the countess. "Paris was almost ina state of siege."
"Yes," said her husband, "tell us."
"Well," said I, laughing, "you escorted them to Belgium when we hadthat affair with Porthos."
"_I!_" exclaimed the count.
"Yes; Colonel Merton insisted on fighting in Belgium merely to enableus to get the papers out of France."
"Indeed! One man did suspect you, but it was too late."
"But Porthos?" cried the countess. "Delightful! Is that the baron?"
"Yes," laughed the count. "My cousin is to this day known as Porthos.But who took the papers? Not you!"
"No, D'Artagnan--I mean, Merton took them as far as Belgium, and thenLieutenant West and I carried them to London. D'Artagnan's share was abad rapier-wound."
"D'Artagnan?" cried the countess. "That makes it complete."
Merton merely smiled, and the blue eyes narrowed a little as thecountess said:
"And so you are D'Artagnan. How delightful! The man of three duels.And pray, who was my husband?"
"That high-minded gentleman, Athos," said Merton, lifting his glassand bowing to the count.
"Gracious!" cried the countess. "What delightfully ingenious people! Ishall always call him Athos."
"It was well, colonel," said the count, "that no one suspected you.The absence of secrecy in the duel put the police at fault. Had youbeen supposed to be carrying those papers, you would never havereached the field."
"Perhaps. One never can tell," said D'Artagnan, simply.
"Ah, well," said our host, rising, "I have long since forgiven you,Madame Merton, and no one is now more glad than I that you helped toprevent the recognition of the Confederacy."
"You must permit me to thank you all," said the countess; "mycuriosity may now sleep in peace. You were vastly clever folk to havedefeated our sharp police."
"Come," said the count, "you Americans will want a cigar. _On peutetre fin, mais pas plus fin que tout le monde._"
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetter errors;otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author'swords and intent.
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