XII
About eight o'clock we drove to a little restaurant in the Bois deBoulogne, dined quietly, and about nine set out on foot to walk to thevilla. There was a brief lull in the storm, but very soon the rainfell again heavily, and as, of course, we took no umbrellas, we weresoon wet to the skin.
Making sure that we were not followed, we approached the gardencautiously through the wood, the rain falling in torrents. At the edgeof the forest, near a well known fountain, beyond the house, we met byappointment my man, Alphonse. He was dressed as an old woman and hadan empty basket on his arm. Together we moved through the wood andshrubbery until we were opposite the side of the garden and about ahundred feet from where the wall turned at a right angle.
Here, facing an avenue, the wall was broken midway by the arch of theentrance gateway. The wind blew toward us, and we could hear now andthen the sound of voices.
Alphonse said: "Two; there are two at the gate."
"Hush," said I, as a man came around the angle and along the narrowway between us and the garden wall.
"Wait, monsieur; he will come again." In some ten minutes hereappeared, as before.
"Now," said Merton, and in a pour of wildly driven rain Alphonsedisappeared. He found his way through the wood and in to the mainavenue, which in front of the gate turned to the left and passedaround the farther side of the grounds. Then he walked up to the gate.Before long we heard words of complaint. Would the guards tellher--This was all gleefully related afterward. She had lost her way.Yes, a little glass of absinthe--only one. She was not used to it. Andshe had the money for her market sales, and alas! so she was all wrongand must go back. The guards laughed. No doubt it was the absinthe.The old woman was reeling now and then. Wouldn't one of them show herthe way? No. And was it down the avenue? Yes. With this she set offunsteadily along the road to the left. They called out that it was thewrong way, and then, laughing, dismissed her.
When once around the remote angle of the wall, Alphonse slipped asideinto the forest, got rid of gown and basket, and moving through thewood, took up his station on the side of the main avenue of approachto the villa, and out of sight of the guards. Here he waited until afew minutes later he was joined by the captain.
Meanwhile I stood in the wood with Merton. I think he enjoyed it. Idid not. A first attempt at burglary is not in all its aspects heroic,and I was wet, chilled, and anxious.
"First actor on," murmured Merton. "Should like to have seen thatinterview. Can't be actor and audience both."
I hazily reflected that for myself I was both, and that the actor hadjust then a sharp fit of stage-scare. I let him run on unanswered,while the rain poured down my back.
At last he said: "I think Alphonse has had time enough."
"Hardly," said I. I did not want to talk. I was longing to dosomething--to begin. The punctual guard went by twenty feet away, thesmoke of his pipe blown toward us.
"I never liked pipe-smoking on the picket-line," said Merton. "You cansmell it of a damp night at any distance. Remind me to tell you astory about it. Heavens!" he cried, as a flash of lightning for aninstant set everything in noon-day clearness, "I hope we shall nothave much of that. Keep down, Greville. Ever steal apples? Strike thatrepeater." I did so. "It's a good deal like waiting for the word tocharge. I remember that once we labeled ourselves for recognition incase we did not come out alive. Just after that I fell ill."
"Hush!" I said. "There he is again."
"All right; give him a moment," said Merton, "and now you have a fullhalf-hour. Come."
We crossed the narrow road and stood below the garden wall. He gave methe aid of his bent knee and then his shoulder, and I was at oncelying flat on the garden wall. My repeater rang 10:15, and then, as Ilay, I heard voices. This time there were two men. They paused on theroad just below me to light cigarettes. One of them consigned theweather to a place where it might have proved more agreeable. Theother said Jean had a pleasanter station in the house. This was notvery reassuring news, but I was in for it and wildly eager to bethrough with a perilous adventure.
As they disappeared, I dropped from the wall into the garden and fellwith an alarming crash, rolling over on a pile of flower-pots. Therewas such a clatter as on any quiet night must have been surely heard.For a moment I lay still, and then, hearing no signals of alarm, Irose and groped along the wall to the door of the conservatory. It wasnot locked. Pausing on the step outside for a moment, I took off myshoes and secured them by tying them to a belt I wore for thispurpose. Then I went in. I found the door of the house ajar, andentering, knew that I was in the drawing-room. I moved with care, inthe gloom, through the furniture, and, aided by a flash of lightning,found my way into the hall. Before me, to left, across the hall, wasa small room. The door was open. I smelled very vile pipe-smoke andheard footfalls overhead, but no sound of voices. I became at oncehopeful that I should have to deal with but one man. I openedcautiously a window in the little room and sat down to listen andwait. I had been given a half-hour. My repeater at last struck 10:45.Meanwhile the clouds broke in places, and there were now gleams ofunwelcome moonlight and now gusts of wind-driven rain.
I rose and shut to a crack the door of the room and waited. Beyond thewall, to my right, I heard of a sudden a wild shriek of "Murder!murder! Help! help!" shrill, feminine, convincing. Then came apistol-shot, then another, and in a moment a third more remote, and,far away, the cries of men.
My time had come. That the gate guards would make for the direction ofthe sound we had felt sure, but what would happen in regard to thehouse guard was left to chance. At all events, he would be isolatedfor a time. To my relief, the ruse answered. I shut the windownoiselessly as I heard my host running down the stairway.
He opened the hall door in haste and was dimly seen from my windowhurrying toward the gate. I rushed into the hall, bolted the halldoor, and ran up-stairs. The old nurse had been prepared for my comingand met me on the first landing.
"Quick," I said. "You expected me. The boudoir." She had her goodYankee wits about her, and in a minute I was kneeling, wildly anxious,and groping in the ashes. Thrusting the package of paper within myshirt-bosom, I ran down-stairs, and as she came after, I cried that Ihad locked the hall door, and to unlock it when I was gone. "Bequick," I added, "and lock the conservatory door behind me. No onehas been seen by you. Go to your own room." Pausing to put on myshoes, I fled across the garden, neither hearing nor seeing the guardwho must have joined his fellows outside.
A Diplomatic Adventure Page 12