The Blue Lights: A Detective Story

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

  Produced by Dianna Adair, Suzanne Shell, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries)

  THE BLUE LIGHTS

  Illustration: A hasty examination of the sailing list showed her the astonishing truth. Richard was not on board.

  THE

  BLUE LIGHTS

  BY

  ARNOLD FREDERICKS

  AUTHOR OF

  THE IVORY SNUFF BOX, ETC.

  ILLUSTRATIONS BY

  WILL GREFE

  NEW YORK

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  PUBLISHERS

  COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY

  W. J. WATT & COMPANY

  THE BLUE LIGHTS

  CHAPTER I

  The big, mud-spattered touring car, which for the past hour had beenplowing its way steadily northward from the city of Washington,hesitated for a moment before the gateway which marked the end of thewell kept drive, then swept on to the house.

  A man, stoutly built, keen of eye, showing haste in his every movement,sprang from the machine and ascended the veranda steps.

  "Does Richard Duvall live here?" he inquired, curtly, of the smiling oldcolored woman who came to the door.

  "'Deed he do, suh. Does you want to see him?"

  "Yes. At once, please. Tell him it is most important. My name isHodgman."

  The servant eyed him with cool disfavor. "Set down, suh," she remarkedstiffly. "I'll tell him you is here."

  The caller watched her, as she disappeared into the house, then casthimself impatiently into a chair and lit a cigar.

  He paid no attention to the attempts of two clumsy collie puppies toattract his favorable notice, but contented himself with making a quicksurvey of the wide comfortable veranda, with its big roomy chairs, thewicker table, bearing a great jar of red peonies, the smooth greenlawns, swept by the late afternoon sun.

  "Fine old place," he muttered to himself. "Wonder if I can persuade himto go?"

  As the car which had brought Mr. Hodgman on his hasty trip fromWashington dashed up to the front of the house, Grace Duvall, lookingvery charming in a blue linen dress, was just approaching it from therear.

  She held a pair of shears in her hand, and her apron was filled tooverflowing with hundred-leaf roses. "Dick--oh, Dick!" she called, asshe came down the long avenue of syringas and lilacs which led to thehouse. "The sweet peas are nearly ready to bloom."

  Richard Duvall, looking as simply pastoral as though he had nevertracked an international crook to cover, raised his head from theflower bed, in which he had been carefully setting out circle aftercircle of geranium plants.

  "Are they?" he laughed. "That's good. Now all we need is a few good hotdays." He gathered up his trowel and rake, and started toward the barn.

  Grace put her arm through her husband's and together they strolledacross the springy green turf, their faces smiling and happy. Thehoneymoon showed no signs of waning.

  This lovely old country place, in southern Maryland, had been one ofRichard Duvall's dreams for many years, and after his marriage to GraceEllicott, in Paris, it had become hers, as well. It was but a short timeafter their return to America that they decided to make it a reality.

  Grace had encouraged her husband in the plan of giving up, for a time atleast, his warfare against crime, his pursuit of criminals of the higherand more dangerous type, and had persuaded him to buy the farm which hadonce belonged to his mother's people, and settle down to the life of acountry gentleman.

  His office was still maintained, under the able direction of one of hisassistants, but Duvall gave little or no attention to its affairs. Hewas glad to withdraw, for the first time in over nine years, fromactive work, and devote his energies to early potatoes, prize dogs,hunters, and geranium plants--and, above all, to the peaceful enjoymentof his honeymoon, and the making of Grace the happiest woman in theworld.

  She, on her part, found in their present situation all the joys ofexistence for which she had longed. With little or no liking for themonotonous round of society and its duties, and a passionate love ofnature, she found in the many and complex duties of managing her part oftheir extensive estate a far greater happiness than any which city lifecould have offered her.

  The considerable fortune which her husband's clever work while in Parishad restored to her, had been safely invested in well paying securities,and she found her greatest joy in utilizing at least a part of herincome in beautifying their new home.

  Richard had steadily refused to make any use of the money. It was amatter of pride with him, that his own savings had enabled him topurchase the property; but when Grace proposed to build an addition tothe house, to provide him with a more comfortable library and work room,or insisted upon having the roads throughout the place elaboratelymacadamized, he was obliged to submit to her wishes. In this way, theyplanned and built for the future, together.

  The farm was a large one, comprising some two hundred acres, and the oldstone house surrounded by white oaks and tulip poplars had once been ashow place, before the declining fortunes of its former owners hadcaused it to fall into a state of mellow and time-honored decay. Now allwas changed. Grace, with the able assistance of old Uncle Abe Turner, arelic of ante bellum times, spent hours daily in bringing order out ofthe chaos of tangled myrtle and ivy, overgrown box and hedge, thicketsof syringa and lilac bushes and weed-grown lawns.

  It was a gigantic task, yet a joyous one--as it ever is, to those whocame to it with the love of nature in their hearts. To Grace, the plantsand shrubs, the great strong oaks, the towering poplars, each seemed tohave a distinct personality. Under her energetic hand, the place oncemore took on the aspect of well kept and orderly beauty which was such acontrast to its former down-at-the-heels appearance. It seemed as thoughthe growing things realized the personal interest she took in them, andresponded as they never respond to the ignorant or unsympathetic.

  Richard was concerned with his fields of timothy and clover, his earlycorn, his berries and fruit trees, to say nothing of his collies, hisprize cows and Kentucky horses. In such a life, time never hangsheavy--he was busy studying, planning, working, from morning to night,and his active mind soon convinced his capable overseer and the farmhands as well that, although Richard Duvall was by no means aprofessional farmer, he could still show them a thing or two when itcame to the rotation of crops, the spraying of fruit trees, or theproper treatment of worn out soils. These were aspects of farming lifewhich the hide-bound conservatism of the local farmers caused them tojeer at, as newfangled notions gotten from books. Later when they sawthe man who farmed with his head as well as his hands gather in twobushels where they had barely been able to secure one, they began to situp and take notice.

  "I got the new hedges all set out today," Grace went on, as she pattedher husband's rather grimy hand. "They will be charming, against thegray stone of the wall. But we must have new gate posts. The old onesare likely to tumble into the road at any moment."

  "I'll have Martin come out tomorrow and look them over. There's plentyof stone--down in the lower pasture. Why not carry the wall right alongthe whole front of the property? It ought not to cost a great deal."

  "We will. And I'm going to have a new spring house built, too. The oldone is falling to pieces." She looked up at her husband as he depositedthe rake in the tool room and they started up the shaded walk toward thehouse. "Aren't you glad, Dick, that we're _alive_?"

  He pressed her arm. "Well--I should say so, little girl! Why do you askme that?"

  "Oh--you know what your friends all said--that a man might as well bedead, as buried out here in the
country. I think they are the ones whoare not alive--cooped up in the city. Don't you?"

  Richard nodded. He was thinking for the moment of his former activelife--when some battle of wits with a noted crook had kept him sleeplessfor nights. "It's--rather different," he laughed. "Isn't it?"

  "Yes--and much better. Don't you think so, dear? You wouldn't want to goback to it--would you?"

  "Not for anything in the world," he assured her, as he swept the newlyseeded lawns with a contented glance. "I liked the other life, ofcourse--the excitement, the danger of it; but this is better--muchbetter. Here, Don!" he called to a graceful collie which was barkingvociferously at some distant vehicle in the road. "Come here and bequiet." He turned with Grace to the great vine-covered side porch andsank contentedly into a rocking chair. "Well, little girl--it's been abusy day, and I'm tired. We got the early rye all cut on the lower fieldtoday. Guess we'll put in late potatoes, after it's plowed. Here,Don--come back here! What's the matter with you?" He rose and whistledto the dog, which was bounding across the lawn in the direction of theroad. "Come back, I say!"

  "It's someone coming in," said Grace, uneasily. "In a machine. I wonderwho it can be?"

  "Possibly Hudson, the veterinary. He was coming today, to look at thatheifer."

  "He hasn't a machine like that. This is a big touring car." She turnedto her husband. "Hadn't you better go in and fix up a bit, Dick? It maybe company."

  Duvall laughed. "If it is, they'll have to take me as I am," he said;then again called to the dog.

  A moment later the servant, who had interviewed the caller at the frontdoor, came out to the side porch. "Gentleman to see you, Mr. Duvall,"she said. "Seems to be in a powerful hurry, too."

  "All right, Aunt Lucy," said Duvall as he made his way to the front ofthe house.

  "Is this Richard Duvall?" the visitor asked, in a quick, almostperemptory tone, as the detective joined him.

  "Yes. That is my name. What can I do for you?"

  The newcomer rose nervously from his chair and began chewing upon hishalf-smoked cigar. "Had the devil of a time to find you, Mr. Duvall."

  "You came out from Washington, I suppose," remarked the detective,wondering what his visitor could want with him.

  "Yes. Got your address from Hicks, of the Treasury Department. He saidyou were about twelve miles out. I seem to have come about twenty."

  "Perhaps you went around by way of Laurel. It's much further, that way.What can I do for you, Mr.----" He paused interrogatively.

  The man looked up at him quickly. "My name's Hodgman--Thomas Hodgman--ofNew York. I represent John Stapleton."

  "John Stapleton, the banker?" asked Duvall, surprised.

  "Yes. You know him, don't you?"

  "Yes. Quite well. I handled a case for him once--some years ago. Why?"Duvall's face became grave. He began to realize that the interview waslikely to become suddenly important. John Stapleton, themulti-millionaire banker, was not in the habit of sending messengers toanyone, without good reason.

  "So he said," went on Mr. Hodgman, resuming his chair. "That's why I'mhere. He wants you to take another--"

  "Another?"

  "Yes. Another case. Quick."

  "It's quite out of the question."

  "Nonsense! This is important. Money's no object; name your own terms."

  "It isn't a question of terms, Mr. Hodgman. I have withdrawn, for thetime being at least, from active professional work."

  "I know." The visitor flicked the ashes impatiently from his cigar andsought nervously in his pockets for a match. "That's what they told meat your office, in New York. Said you were on your honeymoon, and didn'twant to be bothered."

  "That's true. I don't."

  "I told Mr. Stapleton that. He sent me to see you; said you might changeyour mind, when you heard about the case."

  "It is quite impossible. I do not care to take up any detective work atpresent."

  Mr. Hodgman fidgeted nervously in his chair. "You must listen to what Ihave to say, Mr. Duvall, at any rate. Mr. Stapleton would not hear to myreturning, after seeing you, without having explained to you the natureof the case."

  Duvall leaned back, and began to fondle the long moist nose of thecollie which sat beside his chair. "If you insist, Mr. Hodgman, I willlisten, of course; but I assure you it will be quite useless."

  "I hope not. The case is most distressing. Mr. Stapleton's only childhas been kidnapped!"

  "Kidnapped!" Duvall sat up with a start, every line of his face tensewith professional interest. "When? Where?"

  "In Paris. The cablegram arrived this morning. I don't know the details.Mrs. Stapleton has been spending the winter abroad. Mr. Stapleton was tojoin her this month. She is living at their house in the Avenue Kleber,Paris. The child was out walking with a nurse. It has been stolen.That's all I know."

  "When did it happen?"

  "Yesterday morning. Mrs. Stapleton did not cable at first, believingthat the boy would be found during the course of the day. Naturally shedid not wish to alarm her husband needlessly, and the Prefect of Police,it seems, had assured her that the child would undoubtedly be recoveredbefore night. It wasn't. This morning Mr. Stapleton got a long cablegramfrom his wife, telling him of the boy's disappearance. He's half crazyover the thing."

  "What is he going to do?"

  "I don't know. He sent me to see you at once. I'm his secretary, youknow. When I couldn't find you in New York, he told me to come here. Iarrived in Washington an hour ago, and came right out. Mr. Stapletonsaid if any man on earth could find his boy for him, you could."

  "I suppose the thing is a matter of blackmail--ransom--"

  "Very likely. They will probably demand a huge sum. No requests havebeen made, as yet, so far as I know. These fellows usually wait a weekor two, before showing their hand, to give the unfortunate parents achance to worry themselves half to death. I suppose they figure thatthen they'll be more likely to come across with the money."

  "Yes. That's the scheme. A rotten business, too. Hanging is too good forsuch wretches!"

  "That's what I say. Of course you can understand how Mr. Stapletonfeels."

  "Of course. He will sail at once, I suppose."

  "That's the worst of it. He can't go till Saturday. Tomorrow'sThursday--that's three days off. There's a deal on here involvingmillions--something he's been working to put through for months. Ofcourse he doesn't consider anything like that, when it comes to hischild; but he's got to think of his associates--men who have intrustedtheir money to him. He can't possibly sail before Saturday. He wants youto go ahead of him. There's a fast boat leaving in the morning. Youcould take that. We can have a conference tonight. It will mean mightyquick work, though." He glanced at his watch. "After six now. There's notrain till midnight--the sleeper. But Mr. Stapleton told me to charter aspecial. We can be in New York by one o'clock in the morning, if westart right now." He looked at Duvall in eager expectancy.

  The latter frowned, his gaze wandering off to the distant fields, wherethe newly plowed earth reminded him of his plans for the morrow. Yethere was a man, a friend, who had helped him much, in the earlier daysof his career, begging him to come to his assistance in a matter almostof life or death. It was a difficult decision that he was called upon tomake. The thought of leaving Grace hurt him deeply; yet she would preferto stay behind, in case he should go, to look after the affairs of theplace. With the assistance of the overseer and the hands, he knew thatshe could manage everything during a brief absence on his part--itseemed unlikely that the matter would require more than three or fourweeks, at the outside.

  Mr. Hodgman broke in upon his thoughts. "You'll go, Mr. Duvall? Mr.Stapleton is depending on you. He has the utmost faith in yourabilities. He knows your familiarity with Paris--the work you have donethere, in the past. He believes that, by intrusting the matter to afellow countryman, he will get his boy back again. He hasn't much faithin foreign detectives. He's set his heart on having you start for Parisat once. I can't go back and tell him that
you have refused." Mr.Hodgman spoke in a loud and earnest voice, due to his very evidentexcitement. Neither he nor Duvall noticed that Grace had approachedthem, and was standing in the open doorway of the house.

  Before the detective had an opportunity to reply, Grace spoke. "What isit, Richard?" she inquired, quietly.

  Duvall rose, presented Mr. Hodgman to his wife, and bade her sit down.Then, in a few words, he acquainted her with the circumstances which ledto the latter's visit.

  "Think of that poor mother, alone there in Paris," Hodgman supplemented."Think of her suffering, her anxiety. I realize how much we are asking,to take Mr. Duvall away from you, especially at this time; but, it isMr. Stapleton's only child--a boy of six. You can understand how he mustfeel."

  Grace nodded. "Yes, I can understand," she said, slowly, then turned toher husband.

  "What do you think, dear?" he asked her.

  "I think, Richard, that you had better go."

  Mr. Hodgman sprang to his feet, and, coming over to Grace, took herhand. He knew that his battle was won. "I thank you, Mrs. Duvall," hesaid, "on Mr. Stapleton's account, as well as on my own. He willappreciate deeply what you have done, the sacrifice you are making, andhe will not forget it." He looked again at his watch nervously, theanxiety he felt clearly evident in his every movement. "We had beststart at once, Mr. Duvall."

  Duvall rose. "I will join you in a short while, Mr. Hodgman. I wish tosay a few words to my wife." He took Grace's arm and drew her within thehouse, leaving Mr. Hodgman pacing nervously up and down the veranda.

  The conference between Grace and her husband was short. Each realizedthe distress which tore at the other's heart, as well as the dangers hewould in all probability be called upon to face; yet they met thesituation calmly. "You will not be gone long," she told him. "I canmanage very well."

  "I know you can, dear," he said, pressing her to him. "I'm not worriedabout the place. You can run that as well as I can. It's you, I'mworried about--leaving you"--

  "I'll be all right," she assured him, in spite of her tears. "I haveAunt Lucy, and old Uncle Abe, and Rose, and Jennie. I won't be so _very_lonely. And you will be very careful--and--and come back soon--won'tyou?"

  "Of course, dear. Very soon. Now I'd better get a few things together."

  Fifteen minutes later Grace Duvall stood on the steps of the veranda,watching the flying automobile as it rapidly became a little red blur inthe distant road. It was nearly dark. The frogs in the patch of marsh inthe meadow were piping dismally. She shivered, and a great sense ofdesolation came over her. She sank into a chair and wept, while Don,inserting his long white muzzle between her hands, strove to lick awayher tears.

  She heard Aunt Lucy, the old negro cook, singing away at her work in thekitchen, accompanied by Uncle Abe, who occupied a bench on the backporch. Everything seemed strangely peaceful, and lonely, too, now thatRichard had gone. She patted the eager head of the collie. "We'll haveto make the best of it, Don," she said, and rose to enter the house.

  Suddenly far down the road she heard the chugging of an automobile. Theywere not frequent visitors, upon this country road. Could it be Richard,she wondered, returning for something he had forgotten?

  She stood, straining her eyes into the dusk, waiting, while with onehand she restrained the eager dog.

  Presently she saw that the machine was not a red one. It was notRichard. She was about to enter the house, when she realized that therapidly moving car had entered the grounds. She turned on the lights inthe hallway and stood, waiting, the dog at her side bristling withanger.

  In a moment the automobile had stopped, and almost before she realizedit, a small, foreign-looking man stood on the doorstep before her."Madame Duvall?" he inquired, quickly, in a voice which showed plainlyhis nationality.

  "Yes," she replied.

  "Your husband! May I see him?"

  "He is not at home."

  The newcomer seemed greatly disturbed. "Then I fear, Madame, that Ishall be obliged to wait until he returns."

  "He will not return. He has gone away for sometime."

  "Ah! That is indeed a calamity!" The man's face showed the keenestdisappointment. "May I ask where I can find him?"

  "It will be quite impossible." Grace had no intention of telling hervisitor where her husband had gone. She knew too well the intricacies ofhis profession, for that. "You cannot find him." She made as though toclose the door, and thereby terminate the interview.

  The newcomer realized her intention. Slowly he raised his hand, in thepalm of which showed the seal of a ring, turned inward. It was ofsilver, with curious figures worked into it in gold. The man glancedfrom the ring to Grace, eying her steadily. "I think, Madame," he said,with a meaning smile, "that you can trust me."

  Grace recognized the ring at once. It was similar to one she herself hadworn, while engaged in the memorable search for the ivory snuff box forMonsieur Lefevre, Prefect of Police of Paris. Dear old Lefevre--thefriend of Richard's, and of her own! This man who stood before her mustbe a messenger from him.

  "Come in, please," she said, quietly, and led the way to the library.

  The man followed her, calling out a few words to his chauffeur as he didso. No sooner had they reached the great book-lined room, than he drewfrom his pocket a sealed envelope.

  "Madame Duvall," he said, earnestly, "Monsieur Lefevre has cabled to hisrepresentatives in Washington a message. That message is contained inthis envelope. I have instructions to deliver it to your husbandimmediately. In case I could not find him, I am to hand it to you.Permit, me, Madame." With a bow, he placed the message in her hand.

  Grace took the envelope, broke the heavy seal which it bore, and drawingout a slip of paper, hastily read the contents. The message was fromMonsieur Lefevre. It said:

  My dear Duvall:

  You promised, on the occasion of our last meeting, to come to me should I ever need you. I need you badly, my friend. Come at once, both you, and your dear wife. LEFEVRE.

  Grace looked up at the man before her, the letter crumpled in her hand.Here was a message the urgency of which could not be denied. She knewthat, had Richard been at home, he would have gone to Paris at once inresponse to it; for it was to Monsieur Lefevre that they in reality owedall their happiness. She recalled vividly their wedding, with thelovable old Frenchman, acting as her father for the occasion, givingaway the bride. She remembered the farewell dinner at the Prefect'shouse, and the beautiful gift he had given her on that occasion.Evidently Monsieur Lefevre desired Richard's presence very greatly, andher own as well. The thought suddenly came to her--why not go to him?

  True, Richard had left her in charge of things at home; but she knewthat, for a reasonable time, at least, they would go on smoothly enoughwithout her. Hendricks, the overseer, was a capable and honest man,devoted to her and to her husband.

  She could safely leave matters in his charge. Then, too, the thought ofsurprising Richard on the steamer sailing the next day appealed to hersense of mischief. How astounded he would be, to find her strollingalong the deck! And how delighted, too! She wondered that the thought ofaccompanying him had not occurred to her more strongly before. Sheturned to the man, who stood watching her narrowly.

  "You know the contents of this message?"

  "Yes, Madame," he bowed. "It came to us by cable--in cipher."

  "There is a train for New York at midnight, and a steamer tomorrowmorning."

  "Yes, Madame."

  "Can you drive me to Washington in your car?"

  "I shall be delighted, Madame." The fellow's eyes sparkled withsatisfaction.

  "Very well. Mr. Duvall is in New York. I will take the message to him.Wait here, please, until I get some clothes together and give someorders to my servants."

  In half an hour, the thing was done. Hendricks, the overseer, had beengiven full instructions regarding taking charge of the place, withprovision for his needs in the way of money, etc., and by ten o'clock,at which time the New York sleeper was
open, Grace was at the station,purchasing her ticket.

  The obliging Frenchman gave her every assistance, and bade her _bonvoyage_ smilingly as he helped her aboard the train. She retired atonce, and lay in her berth, reading a magazine, and picturing to herselfRichard's mingled astonishment and joy at their meeting in the morning.This time, she was determined that their honeymoon should not beinterrupted.

  After a time, she fell asleep, and dreamed that she and Richard weresailing gaily toward Paris, in a large red touring car.

  In the morning, she ate a hasty breakfast in the railway station, andtook a taxicab for the steamship offices. By great good fortune, she wasable to secure a cabin. Then she hastily visited a banking house whereshe was well known, provided herself with funds, and drove to the dock.

  It wanted but half an hour till sailing time. Grace hastened to herstateroom, and busied herself in effacing the stains of her night oftravel. She was determined to meet Richard looking her best.

  It was not until the big steamer was passing through the Narrows thatshe came on deck, and began looking about for her husband. In all thatcrowd, she knew it would take time to find him. After searching for anhour, she felt somewhat surprised at not seeing him. After another hourhad passed, her surprise turned to alarm. A hasty visit to the purser,and an examination of the sailing list, showed her the astonishingtruth. Richard was not on board!