“Yes, I think so,” Eric agreed. “What do you make of him?”
“He’s lying,” Kingston said with some annoyance. “I think that is plain.”
“I agree,” she said. “I’m sure he knows all about the LaFlenche affair and that he is a staunch supporter of Valmy.”
“That’s the way I see it,” Eric said. “There is no question that he is anxious to be rid of us.”
“And showing us around down here is just part of that,” she suggested.
“Exactly,” Eric said. “But I wish to make the best of it. When he comes down again, I’m going to ask him some more questions about the exact time of LaFlenche’s death. His answers may be helpful in condemning him.”
“Why not put him down as a liar and let it go at that,” Kingston grumbled. “He surely can’t believe he’s deceiving us.”
“I have an idea he knows we’re seeing through him,” Eric said. “That makes him dangerous.”
As Eric finished speaking, they were all aware at once of a great roaring sound. It frew louder every second, and she turned to see what was causing it and paled! Coming at them from the ocean end of the yard was a great wave of water! In a moment it would be on them, overwhelming them!
Chapter Ten
“THE SLUICE gates!” Eric cried. “Someone has opened them!”
“We’re lost!” Kingston shouted in dismay.
“Come on!” Eric roughly seized Betsy as she stood there frozen by the sight of the growing mountain of advancing sea water coming down on them.
Kingston was already scrambling in the direction of the steps, his top hat gone, his coat streaming behind him as he raced with a speed hardly believable in one of his temperament.
Eric stopped trying to force her along and lifted her up and carried her toward the steps in his arms. He was not able to make the same speed as Kingston with her as a burden. He had only gone a step or two when the water was at his ankles, then at his knees, the roaring horrendous now. And by the time he staggered to the bottom of the steps, the water was waist-high on him.
“Give me your hands, girl!” Kingston cried, bending over from a higher step to catch her hands.
She obeyed him without a word. Passed from one man to the other, she hardly realized what was happening. Then a soaked Eric was clambering up the steps behind her and urging her and Kingston on.
“Hurry!” he cried. ‘The water is gaining force all the time! It will soon be catching up with us!”
Her fear of the steps without a railing was now behind her. She was terrified of a far worse fate — that of being drowned in the yawning area of the yard! Kingston was literally clawing his way up the steps to freedom.
Sobbing and gasping, she followed the actor with Eric’s encouraging cries coming from behind her. They finally reached the safety of the grassy area by the steps. All three of them collapsed on the ground there while they gazed down at the yard now almost completely filled with ocean water.
Kingston gasped. “The mad blighter tried to drown us!”
“He did!” Betsy sobbed in agreement.
“I know,” Eric placated them. “This has been no accident, but we dare not accuse him openly. It would do no good in any case!”
“You’re going to let him get away with it?” Betsy asked in dismay.
“It is the political thing to do at the moment,” Eric said grimly. “One day I will hope to bring Monsieur Bartel to task for what he’s done!”
The bearded man was running across the grass to join them with some of his workers following on his heels. He looked shocked as he reached the spot where they were resting. “My good people, I do not know what to say,” he said in consternation.
Eric smiled wryly and got to his feet. “Someone made a bad error.”
“A ghastly mistake!” Pierre Bartel apologized. “I do not know how to explain.”
“You might try!” Betsy said as Eric and Kingston helped her up.
Pierre Bartel removed his top hat and mopped his brow with a large white handkerchief. “It is like a bad dream! I had an inspiration when I came up here. I decided to show you how the yards flood when the sluice gates are opened. A most impressive sight!”
“We witnessed it at close range,” Eric said grimly.
“But the stupid oafs opened the wrong sluice gates. I told them clearly yard number one, and instead they flooded number two where you were standing.”
“A simple error,” Betsy said bitterly. “Yet it nearly cost us our lives.”
“I shall make those stupid men suffer for their mistake,” the shipyard owner promised. “In the meanwhile what can I do to make up to you for this dreadful accident?”
Eric said, “Have our carriage brought to us as soon as possible. Our tour here is ended. We must get back to the inn.”
Pierre Bartel continued to bluster and apologize, but he was hardly convincing. Betsy even thought she saw a smug smile cross his face as the carriage drove off with its three soaked and dejected passengers.
She told the other two, “I’m sure he is laughing at our discomfort.”
Eric said, “He would much prefer our having drowned in there. He failed in his instructions.”
Kingston stared at the younger man. “You think he had orders to kill us?”
“Yes,” the young secret service man said, sitting back against the carriage seat. “And I’m sure he’s not the only one out to get us. We are fair game as long as we threaten their scheme.”
“I jolly well wish that Felix Black had been down there when the water came flooding in,” George Frederick Kingston complained. “He’d know a bit of what we’re up against.”
Eric said quietly, “He knows about it already. Black was an agent once himself. He has faced every sort of threat in his time.”
“Never fancied being drowned like a rat!” the actor said, hunching miserably in his wet clothing.
Betsy gave him a small smile of encouragement. “We will all feel better when we’ve had a change to dry things.”
“This is my best outfit,” Kingston said in an injured tone. “Probably ruined!”
As soon as they returned, Betsy had a warm bath and changed into her yellow dress. She had just completed the change and given her clothes to the innkeeper’s wife to be dried out and looked after when Eric, also in a dry outfit, came to join her in the hallway of the inn.
“How is Kingston?” she asked.
“Still complaining about his fine clothes being ruined,” Eric said with an amused look. “He seems to have forgotten how near he came to drowning.”
“What now?”
“We must plan our visit to the tomb of Jean LaFlenche,” he said.
She hesitated. “Must we? We have enough evidence to know the exchange took place.”
“Checking the tomb is essential. Felix Black demands it.”
Betsy shrugged. “I must confess I’m beginning to have some sympathy with Kingston. I almost wish that Felix Black was here to enter that tomb, not any of us.”
The young man smiled. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“This isn’t turning out exactly as I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“That we would be doing the harassing. We would be tracking down the plotters. Thus far we appear to merely be making targets of ourselves. And we are being threatened by enemy agents wherever we go and whatever we do! We are the pursued!”
Eric said, “It may seem that way, but that is only for the moment. The tempo of things will change. And soon!”
“I hope so.”
He patted her on the arm. “You have done well. You mustn’t falter at this time. I have good news. I have received a message from London from Black. The innkeeper had it waiting for me when we returned.”
“What is the message?” she asked eagerly.
“Tomorrow we sail for Naples. That is why it is urgent we check on that tomb tonight.”
“Has our passage been booked?”
; “No. I will look after that this afternoon,” he promised. “There is a continuous traffic between here and Naples. Ships sail every day over the route, and it is only a short voyage.”
“Why Naples?”
Eric leaned close and said, “Because at this very moment Valmy is there with Napoleon. It could be your chance to come face-to-face with the emperor.”
She was at once excited and eager again. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes,” he said. “We do not know their hiding place. But it is somewhere in the city. That is the information passed on to Black.”
“So we may not have to wait long,” she said.
“No,” he assured her. “I’ll arrange for our sailing, and tonight we shall visit the cemetery.”
Betsy rested for the balance of the day. The innkeeper’s wife did a fine job on all their clothing. It was returned to them in the early evening dried and pressed. Even Kingston was satisfied that no harm had come to his precious suit.
They waited until close to midnight. Then the three set out silently from the inn. Fortunately the cemetery was within walking distance. During the afternoon Kingston had located a strong crowbar which Eric deemed essential for the night’s work.
Swiftly making their way through the dark and deserted streets, they reached the ancient church and the small graveyard behind it. The uneven ground and the tombstones were bathed in eerie blue moonlight as they went through the cemetery gate in single file.
Betsy had no liking for these places of the dead. The slanted tombstones, worn and crumbling with age, stood sentry duty over thin mounds which marked the last resting places of so many. Scattered among these simple stones were some more pretentious memorials. In several cases there were large tombs with iron doors, unlocked only when a new coffin was admitted to the tomb.
The LaFlenche tomb was the largest of the group. Eric held a lantern in his hand and went down the several stone steps to examine the padlock on the rusted door.
Glancing up, he told Kingston, “Give me the crowbar!”
“You going in there?” the actor asked nervously as he passed the bar down.
Eric said grimly, “How else am I to know if LaFlenche is buried here?”
“Won’t be very pleasant if he is. Bodies can’t last long in this heat,” Kingston worried.
“Please!” Betsy begged him to be quiet.
Eric deftly used the crowbar to break open the padlock. It was evident that he was skilled in the technique and had used it before. This done, he pulled the iron door open. Now he glanced up at them again.
He said, “I want you to stand guard duty, Kingston. Keep your pistol at the ready and watch from a place where you won’t be seen!”
“Righto!” Kingston said, taking out his pistol. “What do you say if I post myself beyond that other tomb over there?”
“All right,” Eric said. “Just mind you’re not seen. And if anyone comes up on us, give us some sort of signal.”
“I’ll cry out!” Kingston suggested.
Eric nodded. “It will give away your hiding place, but there’s no other choice.” He turned to Betsy. “I want you to keep watch by the doorway. Also have your pistol ready.”
“I will,” she said.
He sighed and with a resigned look said, “Now I’ll take on the role of grave robber.”
A night bird flew overhead, uttering a weird cry. The eerie atmosphere of the deserted graveyard upset Betsy. She stood nervously inside the iron door, just a step within the tomb. Eric had gone on to the rear, and Kingston had taken up his stand behind the nearby tomb.
Eric spoke to her, “Pretty dusty back here. Hard to sort out the caskets.”
She turned and saw by the dim glow of the lantern that both walls of the giant, partly underground tomb had shelves. And on these shelves were set out the dust-covered coffins.
She said, “Surely you can recognize the latest addition.”
“It has been here so long that it’s as dusty as all the others,” he replied. “I’ll have to find the brass plate. The coffins are all identified with brass plates.”
“Hurry!” she said, shuddering.
He glanced at her. “Frightened?”
“Terrified!”
“We were in a worse fix this morning,” he reminded her. “We could have ended up as dead as anyone in here!”
“Don’t mention it!” she begged him.
Eric moved about a little, examining the coffins on several of the shelves. All at once he let out a small cry of triumph. “I’ve found it!” he said in a low voice.
“Good!”
“Now we’ll get it over with,” Eric said between gritted teeth as he pried at the lid of the coffin.
She heard the sound of splintering wood and turned anxiously to ask him, “Well?”
He was holding the lantern. His face wore a strange look. “Come and see!”
“I might faint!” she protested.
“I’ll take that chance.”
Slowly she made her way deeper in the tomb until she came to the coffin which had been broken open by Eric. She stood back, not wishing to peer in it. She said, “What is the answer?”
“Look!” He took her by the arm and forced her close to the coffin.
Bracing herself, she looked inside and to her utter surprise saw that it was filled with large rocks — weighted down with rocks!
“No body!” she gasped.
“Not a sign of one,” he said wryly. “Somewhere along the way the corpse was lost. And I’d say we know where and how.”
Betsy said, “Now there can no longer be any doubt.”
“None,” he agreed. “We’d better get away from here as quickly as we can. Our work is done!”
“For which I’m grateful,” she said. She placed her pistol in the pocket of her dress since she would no longer need to stand guard.
“We’ll close the iron door by using the crowbar as an emergency lock,” Eric said. “Just shove it through the iron brackets.”
They emerged from the tomb with Eric still carrying the lantern and crowbar. But just as they stepped outside and were going up the four stairs to ground level, they were confronted by what she at first thought was a shadowy phantom!
“Vultures!” a thin voice accused them. “Grave robbers! Vandals!”
Now she saw that it was none other than a cloaked Mademoiselle LaFlenche, and she was standing covering them with a menacing-looking revolver.
“It’s no use, mademoiselle,” Eric said, “Your father is not down there! His coffin is empty except for some stones!”
“Liars!” the woman said hysterically, waving the gun from one to the other. “You have stolen him from his grave, and so I shall kill you for the desecration!”
“No!” Betsy pleaded.
The woman made no reply as she fixed the gun on her in terrifying fashion. It was then that Kingston leaped out from his hiding place and grabbed hold of the hysterical woman. He wrested the revolver from her hand, and it went off in the air with a loud report as he did so. Then he clamped his arms around the still struggling spinster.
“What will we do with her?” he shouted.
Eric lifted his voice to be heard above Mademoiselle’s continual screaming, saying, “Bring her down here since she’s so anxious to join the dead!”
“She’s yours!” Kingston called out and shoved the woman down the steps to the entrance of the tomb.
“Foreigners! Murderers!” the thin woman screamed on.
Betsy quickly moved up the stairs and away from her as Eric manipulated the spinster’s spare form through the entrance to the tomb and then shut the iron door on her and put the crowbar through the brackets to hold it in place.
He then hurried up to join Betsy and Kingston, saying, “She’ll not be heard so well down there!”
“We can’t just leave here there!” Betsy worried.
“She’d die!” Kingston agreed.
“I’ll fix it,” he said. “I’ll leave a no
te with our innkeeper. After she’s shouted herself hoarse and flailed the skin from her knuckles, she’ll quiet down. In the meanwhile the innkeeper will find my note and she’ll be rescued.”
“What about us?” Kingston wanted to know.
Eric said, “We shall be on a vessel bound for Naples.”
In the tomb below the spinster screamed for aid and rattled the iron door. The three of them ran out of the cemetery in single file again. They did not halt until they were a distance from the place.
Betsy was short of breath from running as were the others. As they paused, she asked, “What now?”
Eric said, “We’ll go straight to the inn, pack our things, and leave.”
“Our ship to Naples doesn’t sail until the morning,” the actor reminded him.
“But we can board her tonight. Safer under cover of darkness! And by the time Mademoiselle is free, we’ll be far at sea!”
“You won’t forget to leave word about Mademoiselle with the innkeeper,” she said. “I would not want to see her come to harm.”
“Never fear,” he said.
They made their way back to the inn and hastily packed. Eric figured out the amount due the innkeeper and wrote a brief note. He left both money and the note in the private office of the inn’s owner, on his desk where neither money nor message could be missed. Then they stole silently out into the darkness again.”
There was no choice but to walk to the docks. Both Eric and Kingston took turns at helping her with her bags. She did not want this, but they insisted. When they reached the docks, they had to locate a man with a rowboat to take them out to their ship which was anchored out in the harbor. They found one doing a good business taking drunken sailors to their vessels and hired him.
The voyage to Naples was pleasant and short. It gave Betsy a chance to rest a little and forget some of the more unpleasant things which had happened in Marseilles. At least they were now on the trail of the elusive Valmy and his hostage, Napoleon. The vessel reached Naples in the afternoon, and she stood on deck to admire the beautiful setting of the ancient Italian city.
They had gone by the island of Capri which looked for all the world like a great sunbathed giant ship on the horizon. There was Sorrento and high up on the mountainside Ravello. This area of rich green, azure blue, and stark whites was another deceptively calm spot. Politically it had known much turbulence.
Vintage Love Page 18