Monsieur," he said,very politely, holding his grey felt hat in his hand and glancingquickly around. "May I speak with you privately?"
"Certainly," I replied; and recollecting a small salon off the hall onthe left, led the way thither, and switched on the light.
Then, when he had carefully closed the door and we were alone, he saidwith a pleasant smile--
"I had perhaps better at once introduce myself to Monsieur. I am VictorTramu, inspector of the first division of the _brigade mobile_ of Paris,and I have called at the risk of inconveniencing you to put a fewquestions concerning two associates of yours living in this hotel--namely, Monsieur Harvey Shaw and Mademoiselle Asta Seymour."
"Associates!" I echoed resentfully. "They are my friends!"
The police-officer smiled as he caressed his silky brown beard--a habitof his.
"Excellent. Then certainly you will be able to give me the informationI require."
"Of what?"
"Of their recent movements, and more especially of their place ofresidence."
I was silent, recollecting Asta's injunctions to know nothing; but theman stood regarding me with calm, searching, impudent glance.
"By what right, pray, do you subject me to this cross-examination?" Idemanded in French, full of resentment, as I stood in the centre of theroom facing him.
"Ah! so Monsieur is disinclined to betray his friends, eh?" laughedTramu, whom I afterwards found out to be one of the most famousdetectives in France. "You arrived _en automobile_ from Lyons together,and previously from Versailles," he remarked. "In Lyons your friendShaw met other of his associates, and again here--yesterday at the VillaReyssac. You see, I know a good deal of what has transpired and what isjust now in progress. Indeed, I travelled from Paris for that purpose."
"Well, it surely does not concern me!" I exclaimed.
"Pardon. I must differ from Monsieur," he said, bowing slightly, hishands behind his back. "I desire to know something concerning thesepersons--of where they live."
"You had better ask them yourself," I replied. "It is scarcely likelythat I shall give information to the police concerning my friends," Iadded, in defiance.
"_Bien_! Then shall I be frank with you, m'sieur? The fact is that wehave suspicions, very grave ones, but we are not absolutely certain oftheir identity."
"Then why trouble me?"
"Because you can so easily establish it beyond a doubt."
"Well, Monsieur Tramu, I flatly refuse to satisfy your curiosity, orassist you against my friends," I replied, and turned abruptly upon myheel to leave the room.
"Then it is to be regretted. In that case, Monsieur Kemball, you mustplease consider yourself under arrest as an accomplice and associate ofthe two individuals in question," he said, very coolly but determinedly;and as he uttered the words two men, police-officers in plain clothes,who had evidently been listening without, opened the doorunceremoniously and entered the apartment.
The situation was both startling and unexpected. I was now faced with amost difficult problem. I was under arrest; my silence had cost me myliberty!
Asta and her stepfather must also have both already fallen into thehands of the police, for were they not upstairs? Truly the _coup_ hadbeen very swiftly and cleverly effected, as it seemed were all _coups_made by the renowned Tramu, the trusted lieutenant of Monsieur Hamard ofthe Surete in Paris.
The misfortune so long dreaded by Asta had, alas! fallen.
What must the result be? Ay, what indeed! What could be the chargeagainst them?
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
MORE MYSTERY.
Ignorant of the fate of my friends, I was unceremoniously bundled into afiacre and driven to the police bureau, where for nearly three hours Iwas closely questioned regarding my own identity and my knowledge ofHarvey Shaw.
Aix-les-Bains being a gambling centre, it attracts half the _escrocs_ inEurope; hence, stationed here and there are several of the smartest andshrewdest police officials which France possesses. At the hands ofVictor Tramu and two of his colleagues I was subjected to the closestinterrogation in a small bare room with threadbare carpet and wallspainted dark green, the headquarters of the Surete in that district.The population of Aix in summer is much the same as that of Monte Carloin winter--a heterogeneous, cosmopolitan collection of wealthy pigeonsand hawks of both sexes and all nationalities.
From the thousand and one questions with which I fenced I tried togather the nature of the offence of which Harvey Shaw was culpable, butall to no avail. I asked Tramu point-blank if he and hisfoster-daughter had been arrested, but no information would he give.
"I am asking questions--not you, m'sieur," was his cold reply.
All the interrogation seemed directed towards ascertaining thehiding-place of Shaw in England.
"You knew him in England," remarked Tramu, seated at a table upon whichwas a telephone instrument, while I stood between the two agents ofpolice who had arrested me. "Where did you first meet him?"
"At a railway station."
"Under what circumstances?"
"I had a message to deliver--a letter from a dead friend."
Tramu smiled incredulously, as did also the two other officials at hisside.
"And this dead friend--who was he?" asked the renowned detective.
"A man whom I had met on a steamer between Naples and London. He was astranger to me, but being taken ill on board, I tried to do what I couldfor him. He died in London soon after our arrival."
"His name?"
"Melvill Arnold."
Victor Tramu stroked his brown beard.
"Arnold! Arnold!" he repeated. "Melvill Arnold--an English name. Hewas an Englishman, of course?"
"Certainly."
"Arnold! Arnold!" he repeated, gazing blankly across the room. "And hewas a friend of the suspect Shaw, eh?"
"I presume so."
"Arnold!" he again repeated reflectively, as though the name recalledsomething to his memory. "Was he an elderly, grey-haired man who hadlived a great deal in Egypt and was an expert in Egyptology eh?"
"He was."
Tramu sprang to his feet, staring at me, utterly amazed.
"And he is dead, you say?"
"He is--he died in my presence."
"Arnold!" he cried, turning to his colleagues. "All, yes. I remembernow. I recollect--a most remarkable and mysterious mail. _Dieu_! whata colossal brain! What knowledge--what a staunch friend, and what aformidable enemy! And he is, alas! dead. Describe to me thecircumstances in which he died, Monsieur Kemball," he added, in a voicefull of regret and sympathy.
In response, I briefly told him the story, much as I have related it inthese pages, while all listened attentively.
"And he actually compelled you to burn the banknotes, eh?" asked theofficer of the Surete. "He wilfully destroyed his fortune--the moneywhich I had hoped to recover--the money which he--But, no! He is dead,so we need say no more."
"Then you knew poor Arnold, Monsieur Tramu?" I remarked.
"Quite well," laughed the brown-bearded man seated at the table. "Foryears the police of Europe searched for him in vain. He was far toowary and clever for us. Instead of enjoying the pleasures of thecapitals, he preferred the desert and his studies of Egyptian antiques.He moved about so quickly, and with so many precautions, that we nevercould lay hands upon him. Indeed, it is said that he kept two ex-agentsof police, whose duty it was to watch us, and keep him informedregarding our movements. His was, indeed, a master mind--a greater manthan your associate, Harvey Shaw."
"What were the charges against Arnold?" I asked eagerly. "Why were youso anxious to secure his arrest?"
"Oh, there were a dozen different charges," he replied. "But now he isdead, let his memory as a very remarkable man rest in peace. Ourpresent action concerns the man Shaw. Where did you visit him inEngland?"
"He visited me at my house, Upton End."
"And you did not visit him?"
"I saw him twice at the Carlt
on Hotel in London, and once at the AdelphiHotel in Liverpool."
"And you declare that you have no knowledge of his offences?" asked theofficial shrewdly.
"If I had, I certainly should not have accepted his invitation to comehere on a motor-tour," was my quick reply.
"And the girl? You mean to say that you have no suspicion of heroffence?"
"Her offence!" I cried. "Tell me--I beg of you to tell me!--whatallegation there is against her."
"Ah, my dear m'sieur, of that you will know soon enough," replied thedetective, again stroking his beard. "I fear that, if your ignorance ofthe truth is not feigned, the revelations
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