The Blue Lights: A Detective Story

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

  CHAPTER XI

  It was close to eight o'clock next evening when Grace Duvall arrived atMr. Stapleton's house with the package containing the money.

  She was accompanied, for safety, by two men from the Prefecture, whoescorted her to the door.

  She had paid a previous visit to the house, during the forenoon; but Mr.Stapleton was not at home, and she was informed that he would not returnuntil evening.

  Mrs. Stapleton she saw again; but her talk with the latter resulted innothing. The poor lady was in utter despair, after the fiasco of thenight before, and spent the day in her rooms, weeping.

  It was quite clear to Grace that her grief was very real. She made upher mind that, whatever the mystery of the gold-tipped cigarettes, Mrs.Stapleton had nothing to do with it. Nor had the chauffeur, Valentin,been more communicative. He refused pointblank to explain the presenceof the cigarettes in his room, or the reason why Mary Lanahan hadwritten requesting him to destroy them. He said that it was a matterwhich concerned only the nurse and himself, and assured Grace that ananswer to her questions would not assist in the least in recovering themissing child.

  Mr. Stapleton was awaiting her in the library when she entered. ThePrefect had telephoned him, advising him that the money was safe, andwould be returned to him at once. Beyond that, he knew nothing, exceptwhat Duvall had told him the night before. Consequently he was in adecidedly bad humor.

  Grace laid the money on the table. "Here is your hundred thousanddollars, Mr. Stapleton," she said.

  The irate banker glared at her. "I cannot thank you for bringing itback, Miss," he growled. "Did I not particularly request that the policetake no steps in the matter?"

  "You did, Mr. Stapleton; but we acted for what we thought to be yourbest interests."

  "Hang your thoughts about my best interests! I can take care of them.If you had let things alone, I'd have my boy back by now."

  "And these men, these criminals, who stole him, would be at liberty todo the same thing over again tomorrow."

  Mr. Stapleton was silent for a moment. "How did the thing happen?" hepresently asked.

  Grace told him. "The real cause of our failure, we believe, lies at thedoor of your chauffeur, Francois." She explained the reasons for theirsuspicions.

  Mr. Stapleton seemed puzzled. "The fellow seems honest enough."

  "Where is he now?" Grace inquired.

  "He asked permission to visit his people. As I had no use for him thisevening, I told him he might go."

  "Ah! In that event, we may learn something. He is being closelywatched."

  As Grace spoke, a servant entered the room. "There is a gentleman to seeyou, sir," he said to Mr. Stapleton.

  "Who is it?"

  "He would not give his name. He said his business was urgent."

  "Where is he now?"

  "In the reception room, sir."

  Mr. Stapleton rose. "Excuse me a moment," he said, and went into theadjoining room.

  The library was separated from the reception room by a short passageway,or alcove, in which hung a pair of heavy curtains. Grace sat quietly,waiting for Mr. Stapleton to return. Suddenly she realized that shecould distinctly hear what was going on in the room adjoining. For amoment she thought of going into the hall; then a word or two caught herattention, and in a moment she was close to the curtains, listeningintently to a most remarkable conversation.

  The man who had asked to see Mr. Stapleton stood in the reception room,near a broad window overlooking the street without. He was tall andsomewhat heavily built; but what at once attracted Grace's attention washis heavy black beard. She recognized him at once as the man who hadbroken into Valentin's room to steal the cigarettes, and had laterdriven the car which brought her back to Paris after her abduction.

  He was speaking to Mr. Stapleton in a quiet and assured tone, as thoughdiscussing a topic of no greater importance than the weather.

  "Mr. Stapleton," he said, "I have your son in my possession. He isquite safe. I gave you an opportunity to have him returned to you lastnight; but you did not avail yourself of it."

  "I did my best," exclaimed the astounded banker, mastering his desire totake the fellow by the throat.

  "That may be; yet my plans were interfered with. You did not carry outmy instructions."

  "I did--to the letter."

  The man frowned. "It is useless to discuss the matter now," he growled."I come to give you one more chance. It will be the last--"

  "You damned scoundrel!"

  The man with the black beard held up his hand. "It will avail nothing,Monsieur," he said, calmly, "to excite yourself. If you want back yourboy, listen to what I have to say."

  "Very well. Go ahead."

  "First, I want no interference by the police, or by the man Duvall, whois acting for you."

  Mr. Stapleton drew back in astonishment. "How do you know that Mr.Duvall is acting for me?" he said.

  "It is my business to know, Monsieur. Let it suffice that I _do_ know.If you hope ever to see your child again, you had better listen to whatI have to say, and carry out my instructions to the letter." His voicewas harsh, menacing.

  Mr. Stapleton directed him by a gesture, to proceed. He was too angry tospeak.

  "Tomorrow night at this hour--eight o'clock--I shall come here, to thishouse, and ask for you. You will hand me a package containing onehundred thousand dollars. I will examine the money here, and satisfymyself that the amount is correct.

  "I shall then leave the house, and walk to the Arc de Triomphe; which,as you know, is but a short distance away. At the Arc de Triomphe, Ishall wait for an automobile, which will stop for me. In that automobileI shall drive away. If I get away safely without interference, therewill be telephoned to your house, within half an hour, the address ofthe place where your boy is to be found. If I do _not_ get away safely,that address will _not_ be telephoned to you, and you will not see yourchild alive again. This is your last chance, Monsieur. It is mostimportant, I assure you, that nothing should happen to prevent my safedeparture tomorrow night."

  For a moment Grace was undecided as to how she should act. She fearedgreatly, under the circumstances, to make any move which would endangerthe safety of Mr. Stapleton's child. Yet her duty, as an agent of thepolice, was clear. She must use every effort to effect this man'scapture, before he left the house.

  She knew that she could not reach the street without passing the door ofthe reception room, in which case both Mr. Stapleton and his callerwould see her. There was nothing to do but telephone. She flew to asmall alcove room which opened off the rear of the library, in which sheknew the telephone instrument was located. Once in this small room, sheclosed the door, for fear the others might overhear her, then called upthe Prefecture. Monsieur Lefevre was out; but she acquainted one of hisassistants with the circumstances, and requested him to send a man tothe house at once.

  It would take at least ten minutes, perhaps more, for the man from thePrefecture to reach the house even though he came by automobile, as heno doubt would. What should she do, to keep the man in the receptionroom from leaving before the police should arrive?

  The question was solved for her, quite unexpectedly. In opening thedoor of the small room, to re-enter the library, she accidentally struckagainst a chair. The sound aroused both Mr. Stapleton and his visitor.The former, who had, in his excitement, completely forgotten Grace'spresence, appeared at once in the doorway between the two rooms. "Comehere, Miss Goncourt," he said sternly.

  Grace entered the reception room. The man with the black beard eyed herkeenly. "Ah--a representative of the police, I believe. Our conversationhas been overheard, then, Monsieur Stapleton?"

  The banker was violently angry. He turned to Grace. "You have heard?" hedemanded.

  "Yes."

  "Then I insist that you do not interfere in the matter in any way. Iintend to get my boy back this time, in spite of you all."

  Grace made no reply. She saw the man with the black beard eying herkeenly. "I think, Mo
nsieur, that I had better go," he remarked.

  Grace regarded him with a level look. "You cannot leave this house," shesaid. "It is being watched. If you attempt to do so, I will give thealarm."

  "And for what reason should I stay?" the man inquired calmly.

  "I have telephoned to the Prefecture. A man will be here in a fewminutes, to place you under arrest. I advise you to remain here quietlyuntil he arrives."

  The kidnapper strolled over to the window which overlooked the AvenueKleber, drew aside the curtain, and looked out. Grace wondered if he wasmaking a signal of any sort to confederates outside. He gazed into thestreet intently for a moment, then turned back toward the center of theroom. "I shall follow your advice, Mademoiselle, and wait," he remarked,calmly.

  Mr. Stapleton was speechless with rage. He dared not do anything; for heknew that he would only lay himself open to a charge of resisting thepolice, and helping a criminal to escape. He sat in his chair, inwardlycursing Grace and the entire police force of Paris as well.

  None of the three spoke for a considerable time. After what seemed toGrace ages, she heard the faint ringing of the doorbell, and presentlythe frightened servant arrived, with the information that a detectivefrom the Prefecture was in the hall, and desired to see Mr. Stapletonimmediately. He had scarcely succeeded in delivering this message, whena heavily built man in citizen's clothes shouldered past him into theroom.

  He gazed quickly about. Grace did not remember having ever seen himbefore. "I am from the Prefect of Police," he announced, striding towardthe kidnapper. "I am here to arrest this man." In a moment the click ofthe handcuffs, as he snapped them upon the wrists of the man with theblack beard, came to Grace's ears.

  The kidnapper smiled pleasantly. "I am quite ready to accompany you, myfriend," he said.

  Mr. Stapleton was regarding the scene in helpless rage. He resentedbitterly the way in which the police continually interfered with hisplans to get back his child. In one way, he was glad to feel that theguilty man was under arrest; but, if it resulted in the death of themissing boy, it would be a tragedy, indeed. He turned to the man withthe black beard who stood, smiling, near the door. "I hope you willunderstand," he said, "that I have nothing to do with thismatter--nothing whatever. The presence of this woman here was a pureaccident. I had forgotten that she was in the next room. I'd be gladenough to see you put behind the bars for the rest of your life; butnot if it is going to prevent me from getting back my child."

  The man with the black beard continued to smile pleasantly. "I believeyou, my friend," he said. "However, there is no harm done. When I returntomorrow night--for I shall return, depend upon it, in spite of theefforts of this gentleman," he waved his hand lightly toward the manfrom the Prefecture, "I trust that you will have persuaded MonsieurLefevre, and your man Duvall as well, to let me do so in peace. It isthe only way in which anything can be accomplished--I assure you ofthat." He turned to his captor. "I am ready to accompany you, Monsieur."

  The officer started toward the door leading into the hall. He had takenbut a single step when the servant, with a frightened look upon hisface, appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Stapleton," he stammered, "there isa man here from the office of the Prefect of Police."

  Stapleton strode toward the door. "Another?" he exclaimed. "What doesthis mean?"

  The man in charge of the kidnapper stepped forward, speaking in a quick,low tone. "Leave the matter to me, Monsieur," he whispered. "Thisfellow who has just arrived is an impostor, a confederate. He pretendsto be an agent of the police, in order to rescue his comrade, who hasundoubtedly signaled to him from the window. Be good enough to step intothat room," he pointed to the library, "and let me deal with him."

  Mr. Stapleton hesitated. "What do you propose to do?" he asked.

  "Quick!" said the other, offering no explanations. "He will be here atonce." He turned to the astonished servant. "Bring the man in."

  The puzzled banker moved toward the adjoining room. "You will accompanyhim, please," the Prefect's man said to Grace. "There may be danger."

  "I am not afraid, Monsieur," replied Grace, who did not entirely likethe way things were going.

  The man, however, paid no attention to her remonstrances. "Go--at once,I command you, in the name of the law!"

  She hesitated no longer, but followed Mr. Stapleton into the library. Asshe did so, the new arrival entered the reception room.

  The man with the black beard stood to one side of the doorway. Hiscaptor advanced toward the newcomer. "I have him here," he exclaimed,pointing to the kidnapper, "safely ironed."

  "Who are you?" curtly inquired the man who had just entered the room.

  "A private detective. Here is your man. Let us get him out of here atonce."

  The official made no reply, but stepped quickly up to the man with theblack beard. "Come along with me," he said, roughly, and placed his handupon the other's arm.

  As he did so, the kidnapper shook his wrists briskly. The handcuffs fellclattering to the floor. Without a word he threw his powerful arms aboutthe neck of the astonished official, and throttled him into instantsilence. His companion, no less quick, whipped out a handkerchief, andknotted it about the official's mouth. He was unable to utter a sound.

  The whole thing was so quickly done that Grace, who was watching theroom through the curtains in the doorway, had barely time to utter acry, before the newcomer was lying helpless and silent upon the floor,choked into insensibility; while the two men, quite evidentlyconfederates, made ready to go.

  The black-bearded fellow quickly replaced the handcuffs upon his ownwrists. "Quick, Ramond," he cried. "Let us get out at once."

  Grace was by this time in the room. She knew that she must in some wayprevent these men from escaping. But how--how? They glared at herominously. The younger man drew a revolver. Before any of them couldspeak, the servant appeared in the doorway for the third time. His facewas pale as death. His knees knocked together from terror as he beheldthe gleaming revolver, the man lying upon the floor.

  "Monsieur Duvall is here!" he gasped, and stood silent.

  The man on the floor, recovering his senses, began to struggle to hisfeet. As he did so, Duvall pushed his way past the frightened servantand strode into the room.

  "Quick, Monsieur Duvall!" the fellow with the revolver cried. "I am fromthe Prefecture. I have one of the kidnappers in irons. The other," hepointed to the struggling man on the floor, "is about to escape me. Giveme your assistance at once!"

  Grace was so astounded by the sudden entrance of her husband, as well asby the kidnapper's words, that for a moment she remained speechless.Duvall bent over the man upon the floor and seized him by the throat.

  "Richard! Richard!" Grace screamed, forgetful of Monsieur Lefevre andher own disguise. "Look out!"

  Almost before the words had left her lips, the man with the revolverbrought it down with a dull thud upon Duvall's head as he bent over theprostrate man; then, grasping his companion by the arm, he rushed fromthe room.

  "Richard! Richard!" screamed Grace, throwing her arms about thesenseless body of her husband.

  Mr. Stapleton, who had entered the room, regarded her in amazement."What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

  Grace rose, her face white with suffering. "A doctor, quick! He is hurt!My God--don't you see? He is hurt!" As she spoke, she fell back,fainting, to the floor.