The Blue Lights: A Detective Story

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

  CHAPTER XV

  The few seconds that elapsed while Grace Duvall stood in the desertedstudio in Passy, waiting for the arrival of the person who was ascendingthe stairs, seemed like eternities, so crowded were they with terror.

  What should she do--what, indeed, could she do? A dozen plans racedmadly through her brain, confusing her, baffling her with theirfutility.

  That the missing boy was within the sound of her voice, she knew; foreven as she stood trembling at the ominous footsteps on the creakingstairs, she could hear the low troubled childish moaning, comingapparently from the very air in front of her, yet affording not theslightest clue as to the boy's whereabouts.

  She glanced about the room in desperation. Nearer and nearer came thecreaking footfalls on the stairs. She dared not leave the room now, andthereby meet the approaching man face to face on the landing; yet toremain where she was would result only in her being obliged to make somelame and halting excuse for her presence, and go, as soon as the manentered the room.

  Even this she could not count upon. The fellow, no doubt a desperate andunscrupulous ruffian, might attack her, might detain her a prisoneruntil the child had been safely removed to another place, beyond allhope of discovery. All the work of the past twelve hours would come tonothing. And even should he let her go, in safety, he could not fail tosuspect the reasons for her presence and warn his companions.

  Clearly the only thing to do was to remain in the room, in hiding. Therewas but one place in which she could hope to escape instantdetection--the closet. Yet even this promised but temporary safety; theman would be almost certain to open it, for some reason or other, anddiscover her presence.

  It was her only chance, however, and she took it. Even as the footstepsof the approaching man sounded upon the landing outside, Grace flewacross the room and into the closet, closing the door softly behind her.In her haste, one arm of a velveteen coat which hung upon a hook,became jammed in the door, with the result that it would not entirelyclose. She realized that it was too late to remedy the trouble now, andcrouched back trembling with excitement.

  The jamming of the door had caused it to remain slightly open, with aspace half an inch broad between it and the casing. Through this, Gracecould see a part of the room before her. She watched the door to thehallway intently, as it was thrown open.

  The man she had seen in the pastry shop came in, several packages in hishands. These he placed upon a table, and at once began to preparebreakfast. A small alcohol lamp served for coffee, and butter, rolls,and fruit he produced from the paper bags before him. There was also abottle of milk. Grace wondered if this was intended for the child.

  The man went about his preparations silently. Grace occasionallyobtained a good view of his face. He was apparently about thirty yearsof age, dark and swarthy. There was something familiar about his manner,his general appearance; although what it was, she could not tell. Shewas certain, however, that she had seen him before.

  Once or twice he made a move, as though to approach the closet; buteach time it was something else that claimed his attention. Once it wasto get a package of cigarettes that lay upon one of the modeling stands.Grace wondered what she would have done, had he kept on toward her, andopened the closet door.

  She fell to thinking, in momentary snatches, about home, and Richard.How curious it seemed for them both to be here in Paris, separated forall these days, yet so near each other! She wondered if Richard hadwritten to her, and what he would think, not to have heard from her.Then she remembered that after all he had been in Paris but a fewdays--there was scarcely time for a letter to have reached him. Shethought of Uncle Abe, pottering about among the flower beds, of AuntLucy grumbling good naturedly over her wash tubs, of Rose, singing herqueer camp meeting songs in the spring twilight, of Don, and the otherdogs, the chickens, and her beloved flowers, and wondered how all ofthem were getting along with Richard and herself both away.

  Her reveries were interrupted by a sudden sound which made her startforward, tense with excitement. The man in the studio had gone for amoment beyond the line of her vision, into a corner of the room to herleft. She could not see what he was doing there, and it was whilewaiting for him to reappear that she had fallen into her day dream.

  The sound which startled her was the voice of a child, not crying, thistime, but speaking clearly and distinctly. "I want to go home!" it said,in a high nervous voice. "I want to see my mamma!"

  The man answered roughly, impatiently. "You can't go now. Be quiet andcome and eat your breakfast."

  He appeared suddenly in the line of view commanded by the crack in thedoor, and Grace saw that he held a small boy by one hand, and wasleading him to the table. Here he placed him in a chair and set beforehim a glass of milk and a roll. "Hurry up now!" the man growled. "Eatyour breakfast. I've got to go out."

  The man's words set Grace's heart to beating with renewed quickness. Ifthe man was going out, she would be able to escape, and take the boywith her.

  She did not doubt that he was Mr. Stapleton's child. The girl's dresswhich he had worn on the former occasion had been removed, and in placeof it he wore a suit of dark blue, somewhat dirty and worn. His facestill appeared to be very dark, and his hair, which had formerly beenlong and curly, was cropped close to his head. He appeared to be well,but very nervous. Grace watched him eagerly as he devoured the roll andmilk.

  When he had finished, the man took him by the hand and again led him tothe corner of the room beyond Grace's sight. She strained her faceagainst the opening in the door, striving in vain to see what he wasdoing; but it was useless.

  She heard the boy begin to object, begging the man in a querulous voiceto let him go out and play. His captor, however, silenced him with asharp word, accompanied by a blow. "Get in there, and keep quiet!" Graceheard him say, and after that all was silent. A moment later the manreappeared, put on his hat, and, going out, locked the door carefullybehind him. Grace wondered if the maid had told him of her call, andthereby roused his suspicions.

  She waited until she heard the front door close, and then, emergingquickly from the closet, went toward the side of the room to which theman had gone with the child.

  At first sight, there appeared to be no place where the latter couldhave been hidden. The two walls were of gray-tinted plaster, cracked andstained with age. There was a rickety chair and a battered plasterfigure of a centaur, against which leaned an easel and a mass ofsketches, covered with cobwebs and dust.

  With extreme care, she examined the walls and floor. It seemed mostlikely that some trapdoor existed, affording an entrance to a secretcloset in which the boy had been placed. A few moments' effort showed notraces whatever of such a hiding place. The floor was of planks, coveredwith dust, and the cracks between the boards were filled with dirt andshowed nowhere evidences of having been recently moved. The walls shesounded gently with the handle of a modeling tool which she snatched upfrom the table; but they gave forth a uniformly solid sound.

  She stood, surveying the place in perplexity. Then a sudden thoughtoccurred to her. The ceiling! It swept low down, at the corner of theroom, and above it she knew there must be an attic. She went over andbegan to examine the dusty plaster surface with minute care.

  A sound of footsteps upon the stairs sent her scurrying back into thecloset. She wondered why the man had returned so soon. Greatly to hersurprise, she saw, as soon as the door opened, that the newcomer was notthe one who had left her a short time before, but an older man, moreheavily built. As he turned and glanced toward the side of the roomwhere she was hidden, she saw that he wore a heavy black beard. It wasthe kidnapper himself--the man whom she had seen at Mr. Stapleton'shouse the night before!

  He appeared to be annoyed, at not finding anyone in the studio, andafter a moment sat down and lighting a cigar, began to read a newspaperwhich he drew from his pocket.

  Grace watched him intently, hardly daring to breathe for fear he mighthear her. An hour passed, and the air in the closet became close an
dhot. She felt so nervous that she could have screamed, when the door ofthe room suddenly opened and Durand appeared.

  The two greeted each other with a nod. "Where have you been?" the olderman demanded, somewhat angrily.

  "I had to get a new battery." He took a short black cylinder from hispocket and laid it on the table.

  "Is the boy here?"

  "Yes."

  "Good! Now listen to your instructions." He lowered his voice, glancingswiftly toward the closed door of the room. "At eight o'clock I shall goto the banker's house and get the money. At eight fifteen, or a littlebefore, Francois will get his signal and repeat to you. If he flashesthe blue light, you will release the boy, leave the room, lock the door,and go at once to the Place du Trocadero. From the little tobacco shopyou will telephone the address of this place--No. 42, isn't it?--toMonsieur Stapleton. That will be about half past eight. Do not telephonebefore that. Then wait for me in front of the shop. Do you understand?"

  "Perfectly. And if I get the red signal?"

  "In that event, do not release the boy, but lock the door and come tothe tobacco shop, as before. I will communicate with you there. OldMartelle is perfectly safe. But I do not think there will be anytrouble. You will get the blue light."

  "You seem sure."

  "I am. This man Stapleton is not going to take any more chances. Once Iam in the automobile, I am safe."

  "They could arrest you while you are walking to the Arc de Triomphe,after leaving the house."

  "That is true; but what would they gain. They would not get the boy,would they? And they have no evidence to show that I stole him. Further,Francois reports this morning that he overheard Stapleton and his wifetalking. There is to be no interference--at least not until I get awayin the machine. They will follow me, of course. I fully expect it. Butyou know the steps I have taken to take care of _that_ game." He laughedgrimly. "No--no--the thing is absolutely safe. We will get away withoutthe least trouble."

  "Nevertheless, if anything goes wrong, and I do not get the red signal,what shall we do then?"

  "We'll talk that over, when the time comes. You meet me at Martelle's."

  "But suppose you can't be there? They might get you, you know."

  The man with the beard frowned darkly, and an evil expression came overhis face. "If you get the red signal, and I do not meet you atMartelle's at half past eight, come back here, get the boy, and take himto Lavillac. And before you do so, cut off his left hand, and send it toStapleton with a letter telling him that if I am not set free at once,you will send his head. That will bring them to terms."

  Grace shuddered as she heard the man's words.

  His companion nodded. "I understand," he said. "But I hope it won't benecessary."

  "It won't. They can't get me. I've planned too carefully. That Americandetective, Duvall, is a joke. He was out on the Boulevard du Bois deBoulogne this morning with one of the Prefect's men. They are figuringto have an automobile at the Avenue Malakoff and follow me." He laughedloudly. "Much good that will do them!"

  "How about Francois?"

  "Oh--in a week or two, after we are safely away, Francois will sprainhis wrist, and be forced to give up his position as Monsieur Stapleton'schauffeur. He will join us in New York."

  The younger man puffed meditatively at his cigarette. "What's become ofthat woman Lefevre had snooping around? Seen anything of her, sincelast night?"

  "No. She hasn't been about. Not much danger of _her_ finding outanything."

  The other rubbed his chin, in deep thought. "She nearly got you, lastnight," he presently remarked.

  "Oh, no. Not a chance. I knew she was in the house, and I figured shewould telephone to headquarters as soon as she learned who I was. All Ihad to do was to signal you, through the window, and the thing was done.Of course I didn't expect the Prefect's man to get there quite as soonas he did; but you handled him all right." As he spoke, the man rose,went to a small mirror that hung on the wall, and carefully removed theblack beard which was so distinguishing a feature of his appearance.

  "Pretty hot, this thing," he announced, as he threw it on the table."Got anything to drink about? I'm thirsty."

  Grace saw, as he turned toward her, that he bore a striking resemblanceto the masked man who had given her the first message to Mr. Stapleton,in the room of the house on the road to Versailles. She trembled as sheheard him ask for the drink. Suppose the bottle should be in thecloset? She shrunk back in terror as the younger man rose and startedtoward her.

  Her alarm was needless, however. The fellow drew open one of the drawersof a small dresser that stood on the opposite side of the room, and tookout a light green bottle. "Absinthe?" he inquired.

  "All right. One won't do any harm. Don't take any more, though." Hebegan to pour out the drink into a glass which stood upon the table."When you get the signal from Francois," he went on, "you are to answerit, as usual, so he'll know you've seen him. He doesn't want to stay inhis room very long--for fear he might be missed."

  "They suspect him, of course."

  "Yes. He's being watched right along; when he's out of the house, thatis. They've searched his room, and all that; but they haven't foundanything." He chuckled, and began to sip his drink. "Nothing to find."

  The other man sat down at the table, and the two began talking overtheir plans of escape. Grace could not hear all they said; but, asnearly as she could gather, they intended, as soon as the younger manhad joined the other, to run for Brussels in the automobile. Near thefrontier they would leave the machine, change their disguises, and crossthe frontier on foot. Once in Belgium, they seemed to think they wouldbe quite safe.

  It was along toward noon when the older man readjusted his disguise andleft the house. "I'm going to get something to eat," he announced. "Iwon't be back. You'd better not leave the place again. I'll send you insomething, if you like." He glanced at the rolls and milk on the table.

  "It won't be necessary. I've got all I need. Guess I'll take a nap thisafternoon. Well, good luck," he concluded, as the other started towardthe door. "See you later."

  "All right." The black-bearded man passed noiselessly into the hall."Don't sleep too long. Eight o'clock, remember." In a moment he wasgone.

  Grace watched the other as he finished drinking his absinthe and lit acigarette. Presently he went over to the cot and, throwing himself uponit, was soon snoring loudly.

  The long hot afternoon wore itself on. Grace leaned back against thewall of the closet, weak from the nervous tension of the situation. Theplace was hot and close. She felt faint from lack of air, from hunger.At times she dozed off, then recovered herself with a start, and stoodtrembling, fearful lest she had made some noise which might attract theattention of the sleeping man.

  After a time, the low complaining of the child began again, at firstfaint and seemingly far off, then growing in volume, until the tearfulcries of "Let me out--let me out!" seemed to come from a point scarcelybeyond the reach of her hand.

  The child's complaints at last awoke the sleeping man. With a mutteredcurse he rose, crossed the room, and disappeared from sight. Grace hearda low scraping sound, as of a panel being drawn back, and presently theman again appeared with the child, and again supplied him with bread andmilk.

  After he had eaten, the man gave him a magazine with bright-coloredpictures in it, to amuse him, and lay on the bed, smoking. The boy saton the floor, looking at the book.

  Once or twice he tried to speak, but the man sharply bade him be quiet.About sundown, a step was heard on the stairs, and once again the boywas hastily placed in his hiding place, with threats of punishment if hecried.

  The new arrival was only a model, in search of work. The man spoke toher gruffly, and informed her that he had all the models he needed.After she left, he did not again release the child, but sat, reading,for a long time.

  At last he rose, took up the short black cylinder, which Grace saw wasan electric searchlight, from the table, and went over and sat in thesill of the large doub
le window which faced to the north. The window wasopen, and the room in darkness.

  Grace pushed the door of her closet open slightly, so as to get a betterview. The window was directly opposite the closet, at the other end ofthe room. She could see the silent figure of the watcher, silhouettedblackly against the night sky without. Off to the north were manylights--the lights of the houses toward the Champs Elysees, and the Arcde Triomphe.

  For many minutes she watched, over the man's shoulder, waiting for thesignal which would set both herself and Mr. Stapleton's boy free fromtheir long confinement.

  Presently she heard the man utter a quick oath, and saw him peer out ofthe window, his figure tense and rigid, a pair of field glasses held tohis eyes. In another moment he had dropped the glasses, picked up hiselectric searchlight, and flashed a signal into the darkness.

  It took him but a moment. In another he had rushed to the door, andGrace heard him turn the key in the lock and clatter down the stairs.

  She crept swiftly to the window and looked out. At first she could seenothing, but a confused maze of lights. In a moment she had seized thefield glasses and was nervously sweeping the horizon. Suddenly she heldthem still for a moment, then drew back with a cry of dismay. Far offtoward the Avenue Kleber there gleamed a light, high in the upper roomof a house. It shone for a few moments, steady, baleful, full of unknownterror, then winked suddenly out and was gone. She dropped the fieldglasses upon the floor and staggered back against the table. _The lightwas red!_ She was locked in. The two men would undoubtedly be back infifteen or twenty minutes. And then--she shuddered as she thought ofwhat they intended to do to the kidnapped child. To herself she gavescarcely a thought. Then Richard's face came before her eyes, and shefell upon the window seat, sobbing bitterly.