2.
A week later I was at Gex. At St. Claude I had parted from Leroux, andthen hired a chaise to take me to my destination. It was a matter offifteen kilometres by road over the frontier of the customs zone andthrough the most superb scenery I had ever seen in my life. We drovethrough narrow gorges, on each side of which the mountain heights roserugged and precipitous to incalculable altitudes above. From time totime only did I get peeps of almost imperceptible tracks along thedeclivities, tracks on which it seemed as if goats alone could obtaina footing. Once--hundreds of feet above me--I spied a couple of mulesdescending what seemed like a sheer perpendicular path down themountain side. The animals appeared to be heavily laden, and Imarvelled what forbidden goods lay hidden within their packs andwhether in the days that were to come I too should be called upon torisk my life on those declivities following in the footsteps of thereckless and desperate criminals whom it was my duty to pursue.
I confess that at the thought, and with those pictures of grim naturebefore me, I felt an unpleasant shiver coursing down my spine.
Nothing of importance occurred during the first fortnight of mysojourn at Gex. I was installed in moderately comfortable, furnishedrooms in the heart of the city, close to the church and market square.In one of my front windows, situated on the ground floor, I had placeda card bearing the inscription: "Aristide Barrot, Interpreter," andbelow, "Anglais, Allemand, Italien." I had even had a fewclients--conversations between the local police and some poor wretchescaught in the act of smuggling a few yards of Swiss silk or a coupleof cream cheeses over the French frontier, and sent back to Gex to bedealt with by the local authorities.
Leroux had found lodgings at Mijoux, and twice daily he walked over toGex to consult with me. We met, mornings and evenings, at the caferestaurant of the Crane Chauve, an obscure little tavern situated onthe outskirts of the city. He was waxing impatient at what he calledmy supineness, for indeed so far I had had nothing to report.
There was no sign of M. Aristide Fournier. No one in Gex appeared toknow anything about him, though the proprietor of the principal hotelin the town did recollect having had a visitor of that name once ortwice during the past year. But, of course, during this early stage ofmy stay in the town it was impossible for me to believe anything thatI was told. I had not yet succeeded in winning the confidence of theinhabitants, and it was soon pretty evident to me that the wholecountryside was engaged in the perilous industry of smuggling.Everyone from the mayor downwards did a bit of a deal now and again incontraband goods. In ordinary cases it only meant fines if one wascaught, or perhaps imprisonment for repeated offenses.
But four or five days after my arrival at Gex I saw three fellowshanded over to the police of the department. They had been caught inthe act of trying to ford the Valserine with half a dozen pack-mulesladen with English cloth. They were hanged at St. Claude two dayslater.
I can assure you, Sir, that the news of this summary administration ofjustice sent another cold shiver down my spine, and I marvelled ifindeed Leroux's surmises were correct and if a respectable tradesmanlike Aristide Fournier would take such terrible risks even for thesake of heavy gains.
I had been in Gex just a fortnight when the weather, which hithertohad been splendid, turned to squalls and storms. We were then in thesecond week of September. A torrential rain had fallen the whole ofone day, during which I had only been out in order to meet Leroux, asusual, at the Cafe du Crane Chauve. I had just come home from ourevening meeting--it was then ten o'clock--and I was preparing to gocomfortably to bed, when I was startled by a violent ring at thefront-door bell.
I had only just time to wonder if this belated visitor desired to seeme or my worthy landlady, Mme. Bournon, when her heavy footstepsresounded along the passage. The next moment I heard my name spokenperemptorily by a harsh voice, and Mme. Bournon's reply that M.Aristide Barrot was indeed within. A few seconds later she ushered mynocturnal visitor into my room.
He was wrapped in a dark mantle from head to foot, and he wore awide-brimmed hat pulled right over his eyes. He did not remove eitheras he addressed me without further preamble.
"You are an interpreter, Sir?" he queried, speaking very rapidly andin sharp commanding tones.
"At your service," I replied.
"My name is Ernest Berty. I want you to come with me at once to myhouse. I require your services as intermediary between myself and somemen who have come to see me on business. These men whom I wish you tosee are Russians," he added, I fancied as an afterthought, "but theyspeak English fluently."
I suppose that I looked just as I felt--somewhat dubious owing to thelateness of the hour and the darkness of the night, not to speak ofthe abominable weather, for he continued with marked impatience:
"It is imperative that you should come at once. Though my house is atsome little distance from here, I have a chaise outside which willalso bring you back, and," he added significantly, "I will pay youwhatever you demand."
"It is very late," I demurred, "the weather--"
"Your fee, man!" he broke in roughly, "and let's get on!"
"Five hundred francs," I said at a venture.
"Come!" was his curt reply. "I will give you the money as we drivealong."
I wished I had made it a thousand; apparently my services were worth agreat deal to him. However, I picked up my mantle and my hat, andwithin a few seconds was ready to go. I shouted up to Mme. Bournonthat I would not be home for a couple of hours, but that as I had mykey I need not disturb her when I returned.
Once outside the door I almost regretted my ready acquiescence in thisnocturnal adventure. The rain was beating down unmercifully, and atfirst I saw no sign of a vehicle; but in answer to my visitor's sharpcommand I followed him down the street as far as the market square, atthe corner of which I spied the dim outline of a carriage and a coupleof horses.
Without wasting too many words, M. Ernest Berty bundled me into thecarriage, and very soon we were on the way. The night was impenetrablydark and the chaise more than ordinarily rickety. I had but littleopportunity to ascertain which way we were going. A small lanthornfixed opposite to me in the interior of the carriage, and flickeringincessantly before my eyes, made it still more impossible for me tosee anything outside the narrow window. My companion sat beside me,silent and absorbed. After a while I ventured to ask him which way wewere driving.
"Through the town," he replied curtly. "My house is just outsideDivonne."
Now, Divonne is, as I knew, quite close to the Swiss frontier. It is amatter of seven or eight kilometres--an hour's drive at the veryleast in this supremely uncomfortable vehicle. I tried to inducefurther conversation, but made no headway against my companion'staciturnity. However, I had little cause for complaint in anotherdirection. After the first quarter of an hour, and when we had leftthe cobblestones of the city behind us, he drew a bundle of notes fromhis pocket, and by the flickering light of the lanthorn he counted outten fifty-franc notes and handed them without another word to me.
The drive was unspeakably wearisome; but after a while I suppose thatthe monotonous rumbling of the wheels and the incessant patter of therain against the window-panes lulled me into a kind of torpor. Certainit is that presently--much sooner than I had anticipated--the chaisedrew up with a jerk, and I was roused to full consciousness by hearingM. Berty's voice saying curtly:
"Here we are! Come with me!"
I was stiff, Sir, and I was shivering--not so much with cold as withexcitement. You will readily understand that all my faculties were nowon the qui vive. Somehow or other during the wearisome drive by theside of my close-tongued companion my mind had fastened on thecertitude that my adventure of this night bore a close connexion tothe firm of Fournier Freres and to the English files which werecausing so many sleepless nights to M. le Duc d'Otrante, Minister ofPolice.
But nothing in my manner, as I stepped out of the carriage under theporch of the house which loomed dark and massive out of thesurrounding gloom, betrayed anything of wha
t I felt. Outwardly I wasjust a worthy bourgeois, an interpreter by profession, and delightedat the remunerative work so opportunely put in my way.
The house itself appeared lonely as well as dark. M. Berty led the wayacross a narrow passage, at the end of which there was a door which hepushed open, saying in his usual abrupt manner: "Go in there and wait.I'll send for you directly."
Then he closed the door on me, and I heard his footsteps recrossingthe corridor and presently ascending some stairs. I was left alone ina small, sparsely furnished room, dimly lighted by an oil lamp whichhung down from the ceiling. There was a table in the middle of theroom, a square of carpet on the floor, and a couple of chairs beside asmall iron stove. I noticed that the single window was closelyshuttered and barred. I sat down and waited. At first the silencearound me was only broken by the pattering of the rain against theshutters and the soughing of the wind down the iron chimney pipe, butafter a little while my senses, which by this time had becomesuper-acute, were conscious of various noises within the house itself:footsteps overhead, a confused murmur of voices, and anon theunmistakable sound of a female voice raised as if in entreaty or incomplaint.
Somehow a vague feeling of alarm possessed itself of my nervoussystem. I began to realise my position--alone, a stranger in a houseas to whose situation I had not the remotest idea, and among a set ofmen who, if my surmises were correct, were nothing less than a gang ofdetermined and dangerous criminals. The voices, especially the femaleone, were now sounding more clear. I tiptoed to the door, and verygently opened it. There was indeed no mistaking the tone of desperatepleading which came from some room above and through & woman's lips. Ieven caught the words: "Oh, don't! Oh, don't! Not again!" repeated atintervals with pitiable insistence.
Mastering my not unnatural anxiety, I opened the door a little fartherand slipped out into the passage, all my instincts of chivalry towardsbeauty in distress aroused by those piteous cries. Forgetful of everypossible danger and of all prudence, I had already darted down thecorridor, determined to do my duty as a gentleman as soon as I hadascertained whence had come those cries of anguish, when I heard thefrou-frou of skirts and a rapid patter of small feet down the stairs.The next moment a radiant vision, all white muslin, fair curls and thescent of violets, descended on me from above, a soft hand closed overmine and drew me, unresisting, back into the room from whence I hadjust come.
Bewildered, I gazed on the winsome apparition before me, and beheld ayoung girl, slender as a lily, dressed in a soft, clinging gown whichmade her appear more slender still, her fair hair arranged in a tangleof unruly curls round the dainty oval of her face.
She was exquisite, Sir! And the slenderness of her! You cannot imagineit! She looked like a young sapling bending to the gale. But what cutme to the heart was the look of terror and of misery in her face. Sheclasped her hands together and the tears gathered in her eyes.
"Go, Sir, go at once!" she murmured under her breath, speaking veryrapidly. "Do not waste a minute, I beg of you! As you value your life,go before it is too late!"
"But, Mademoiselle," I stammered; for indeed her words and appearancehad roused all my worst fears, but also all my instincts of thesleuth-hound scenting his quarry.
"Don't argue, I beg of you," continued the lovely creature, who indeedseemed the prey of overwhelming emotions--fear, horror, pity. "When hecomes back do not let him find you here. I'll explain, I'll know whatto say, only I entreat you--go!"
Sir, I have many faults, but cowardice does not happen to be one ofthem, and the more the angel pleaded the more determined was I to seethis business through. I was, of course, quite convinced by now that Iwas on the track of M. Aristide Fournier and the English files, and Iwas not going to let five thousand francs and the gratitude of theMinister of Police slip through my fingers so easily.
"Mademoiselle," I rejoined as calmly as I could, "let me assure youthat though your anxiety for me is like manna to a starving man, Ihave no fears for my own safety. I have come here in the capacity of ahumble interpreter; I certainly am not worth putting out of the way.Moreover, I have been paid for my services, and these I will render tomy employer to the best of my capabilities."
"Ah, but you don't know," she retorted, not departing one jot from herattitude of terror and of entreaty, "you don't understand. This house,Monsieur," she added in a hoarse whisper, "is nothing but a den ofcriminals wherein no honest man or woman is safe."
"Pardon, Mademoiselle," I riposted as lightly and as gallantly as Icould, "I see before me the living proof that angels, at any rate,dwell therein."
"Alas! Sir," she rejoined, with a heart-rending sigh, "if you mean me,I am only to be pitied. My dear mother and I are naught but slaves tothe will of my brother, who uses us as tools for his nefarious ends."
"But . . ." I stammered, horrified beyond speech at the vista ofvillainy which her words had opened up before me.
"My mother, Sir," she said simply, "is old and ailing; she is dying ofanguish at sight of her son's misdeeds. I would not, could not leaveher, yet I would give my life to see her free from that miscreant'sclutches!"
My whole soul was stirred to its depths by the intensity of passionwhich rang through this delicate creature's words. What weird andawesome mystery of iniquity and of crime lay hid, I wondered, betweenthese walls? In what tragedy had I thus accidentally become involvedwhile fulfilling my prosaic duty in the interest of His Majesty'sexchequer? As in a flash it suddenly came to me that perhaps I couldserve both this lovely creature and the Emperor better by going out ofthe house now, and lying hidden all the night through somewhere in itsvicinity until in daylight I could locate its exact situation. Then Icould communicate with Leroux at once and procure the apprehension ofthis Berty--or Fournier--who apparently was a desperate criminal.Already a bold plan was taking shape in my brain, and with my mind'seye I had measured the distance which separated me from the front doorand safety when, in the distance, I heard heavy footsteps slowlydescending the stairs. I looked at my lovely companion, and saw hereyes gradually dilating with increased horror. She gave a smotheredcry, pressed her handkerchief to her lips, then she murmured hoarsely,"Too late!" and fled precipitately from the room, leaving me a prey tomingled emotions such as I had never experienced before.
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