CHAPTER II
THE PROBLEM OF THE RED CRAWL
It was half-past two o'clock in the morning of July 25, when theconstable on duty at the head of Clarges Street, Piccadilly, wasstartled to see a red limousine swing into that quiet thoroughfare fromthe Curzon Street end, come to an abrupt halt, and a man who had everyappearance of a sailor alight therefrom, fish a key from his pocket, andadmit himself to a certain house. This house for more than a year hadbeen known to be occupied only by one Captain Burbage, a retired seamanof advanced years, his elderly housekeeper, a deaf and dumbmaid-of-all-work, and a snub-nosed, ginger-haired young chap of aboutnineteen--as pure a specimen of the genus Cockney as you could pick upanywhere from Bow Church to the Guildhall--who acted as a sort of bodyservant to the aged captain, and was known by the expressive name of"Dollops."
"Don't like the goings-on at that house at all," commented the policemanin a sort of growl. "All sorts of parties coming and going at all hoursof the night. Reported it more than once, I have; and yet SuperintendentNarkom says there's nothing in it and it needn't be watched. I wonderwhy?"
He wouldn't have wondered any longer could he have looked into the hallof the house at that moment; for the man who had just entered had nosooner closed the lower door than one above flashed open, a stream oflight gushed down the stairs, and a calm, well-modulated voice saidserenely: "Come right up, Mr. Narkom. I knew it would be you before yourmotor turned the corner. I'd know the purr of your machine among athousand."
"Fancy that!" said Narkom, as he removed the hot wig and beard he wore,and went up the stairs two at a time. "My dear Cleek, what an abnormalanimal you are! Had you"--entering the room where his now famous ally(divested of the disguise which served for the role of "CaptainBurbage") stood leaning against the mantelpiece and calmly smoking acigarette--"had you by any chance a fox among your forbears?"
"Oh, no. The night is very still, the back window is open, and there's atrifling irregularity in the operations of your detonator: that's all.But tell me, you've got something else for me; something importantenough to bring you racing here at top speed in the middle of the night,so to speak?"
"Yes. An amazing something. It's a letter. It arrived at headquarters bythe nine o'clock post to-night--or, rather, it's last night now. Merton,of course, forwarded it to my home; but I was away--did not return untilafter one, or I should have been here sooner. It's not an affair for'the Yard' this time, Cleek; and I tell you frankly I do not like it."
"Why?"
"Well, it's from Paris. If you were to accept it, you--well, you knowwhat dangers Paris would have for you above all men. There's thatshe-devil you broke with, that woman Margot. You know what she swore,what she wrote back when you sent her that letter telling her that youwere done with her and her lot, and warning her never to set foot onEnglish soil again? If you were to run foul of her; if she were ever toget any hint to your real identity----"
"She can't. She knows no more of my real history than you do; no morethan I actually know of hers. Our knowledge of each other began when westarted to 'pal' together; it ended when we split, eighteen months ago.But about this letter? What is it? Why do you say that you don't likeit?"
"Well, to begin with, I'm afraid it is some trap of hers to decoy youover there, get you into some unknown place----"
"There are no 'unknown places' in Paris so far as I am concerned. I knowevery hole and corner of it, from the sewers on. I know it as well as Iknow London, as well as I know Berlin--New York--Vienna--Edinburgh--Rome.You couldn't lose me or trap me in any one of them. Is that the letterin your hand? Good--then read it, please."
Narkom, obeying the request, read:
"TO THE SUPERINTENDENT OF POLICE, SCOTLAND YARD,
"DISTINGUISHED MONSIEUR:
"Of your grace and pity, I implore you to listen to the prayer of an unhappy man whose honour, whose reason, whose very life are in deadly peril, not alone of 'The Red Crawl,' but of things he may not even name, dare not commit to writing, lest this letter should go astray. It shall happen, monsieur, that the whole world shall hear with amazement of that most marvellous 'Cleek'--that great reader of riddles and unmasker of evildoers who, in the past year, has made the police department of England the envy of all nations; and it shall happen also that I who dare not appeal to the police of France appeal to the mercy, the humanity, of this great man, as it is my only hope. Monsieur, you have his ear, you have his confidence, you have the means at your command. Ah! ask him, pray him, implore him for the love of God, and the sake of a fellow-man, to come alone to the top floor of the house number 7 of the Rue Toison d'Or, Paris, at nine hours of the night of Friday, the 26th inst., to enter into the darkness and say but the one word 'Cleek' as a signal it is he, and I may come forward and throw myself upon his mercy. Oh, save me, Monsieur Cleek--save me! save me!
"There, that's the lot, and there's no signature," said Narkom, layingdown the letter. "What do you make of it, Cleek?"
"A very real, a very moving thing, Mr. Narkom. The cry of a human heartin deep distress; the agonized appeal of a man so wrought up by thehorrors of his position that he forgets to offer a temptation in the wayof reward, and speaks of outlandish things as though they must beunderstood of all. As witness his allusion to something which he calls'The Red Crawl,' without attempting to explain the meaningless phrase.Whatever it is, it is so real to him that it seems as if everybody mustunderstand."
"You think, then, that the thing is genuine?"
"So genuine that I shall answer its call, Mr. Narkom, and be alone inthe dark on the top floor of No. 7, Rue Toison d'Or to-morrow night assurely as the clock strikes nine."
And that was how the few persons who happened to be in the quiet upperreaches of the Rue Bienfaisance at half-past eight o'clock the nextevening came to see a fat, fussy, red-faced Englishman in a grayfrock-coat, white spats, and a shining topper, followed by a liveriedservant with a hat-box in one hand and a portmanteau in the other, soconspicuous, the pair of them, that they couldn't have any desire toconceal themselves, cross over the square before the Church of St.Augustine, fare forth into the darker side passages, and move in thedirection of the street of the Golden Fleece.
They were, of course, Cleek and his devoted henchman Dollops--a youth hehad picked up out of the streets of London and given a home, and whoseespecial virtues were a dog-like devotion to his employer, a facilityfor eating without ever seeming to get filled, and fighting without everseeming to get tired.
"Lumme, guv'ner," whispered he, as they turned at last into the utterdarkness and desertion of the narrow Rue Toison d'Or, "if this is wotyer calls Gay Paree, this precious black slit between two rows ofhouses, I'll take a slice of the Old Kent Road with thanks. Not even somuch as a winkle-stall in sight, and me that empty my shirt-bosom'sa-chafing my blessed shoulder-blades!"
"You'll see plenty of life before the game's over, I warrant you,Dollops. Now, then, my lad, here's a safe spot. Sit down on the hat-boxand wait. That's No. 7, that empty house with the open door, just acrossthe way. Keep your eye on it. I don't know how long I'll be, but ifanybody comes out before I do, mind you don't let him get away."
"No fear!" said Dollops sententiously. "I'll be after him as if he was aham sandwich, sir. Look out for my patent 'Tickle Tootsies' when youcome out, guv'ner. I'll sneak over and put 'em round the door as soon asyou've gone in." For Dollops, who was of an inventive turn of mind, hadan especial "man-trap" of his own, which consisted of heavy brown paper,cut into squares, and thickly smeared over with a viscid, varnish-likesubstance that adhered to the feet of anybody incautiously stepping uponit, and so interfered with flight that it was an absolute necessity tostop and tear the papers away before running with any sort of ease andswiftness was possible. More than once this novel method of hamperingfor a brief period the movement of a fugitive had stood him and hismaster in good stead, and Dollops, who was rather proud of hisachievement, nev
er travelled without a full supply of ready-cut papersand a big collapsible tube of the viscid, ropy, varnish-like glue.
Meantime Cleek, having left the boy sitting on the hat-box in thedarkness, crossed the narrow street to the open doorway of No. 7, and,without hesitation, stepped in. The place was as black as a pocket, andhad that peculiar smell which belongs to houses that have long stoodvacant. The house, nevertheless, was a respectable one, and, like allthe others, fronted on another street. The dark Toison d'Or was merely aback passage used principally by the tradespeople for the delivery ofsupplies. Feeling his way to the first of the three flights of stairswhich led upward into the stillness and gloom above, Cleek mountedsteadily until he found himself at length in a sort of attic--quitewindowless, and lit only by a skylight through which shone theineffectual light of the stars. It was the top at last. Bracing his backagainst the wall, so that nobody could get behind him, and holdinghimself ready for any emergency, he called out in a clear, calm voice:"Cleek!"
Almost simultaneously there was a sharp metallic "snick," an electricbulb hanging from the ceiling flamed out luminously, a cupboard doorflashed open, a voice cried out in joyous, perfect English: "Thank Godfor a man!" And, switching round with a cry of amazement, he foundhimself looking into the face and eyes of a woman.
And of all women in the world--Ailsa Lorne!
He sucked in his breath and his heart began to hammer.
"Miss Lorne!" he exclaimed, so carried out of himself that he scarcelyknew what he did. "Good heavens above!--Miss Lorne!"
"Oh!" she ejaculated, with a little startled cry, looking up, butfinding no trace of features that she knew in the round, red face of thefat gray man before her. "You know me, then? How can you? But I forget!You are English; you are that great and mysterious man Cleek; andhe--ah, he must surely know everything!"
"I know you, at least," he replied, shaking with mingled embarrassmentand delight at the knowledge that at last he was permitted to speak toher, to have her speak to him. "I have seen you often in London; and tofind you here, like this? It fairly takes away my breath."
"The explanation is very simple, Mr. Cleek. I suppose you know that myuncle, Sir Horace Wyvern, married again last spring? The new Lady Wyvernsoon let me know that I was a superfluous person in the household. Ileft it, of course. Sir Horace would have pensioned me off if I had lethim. I couldn't bring myself to eat the bread of charity, however, andwhen a former schoolmate offered me a post as her companion, Igratefully accepted it. So for the past three months I have been livinghere in Paris with Athalie and her father, the Baron de Carjorac."
"Baron de Carjorac? Do you mean the French Minister of the Interior, thePresident of the Board of National Defences, Miss Lorne, thatenthusiastic old patriot, that rabid old spitfire whose one dream is thewresting back of Alsace-Lorraine, the driving of the hated Germans intothe sea? Do you mean that ripping old firebrand?"
"Yes. But you'd not call him that if you could see the wreck, the brokenand despairing wreck, that six weeks of the Chateau Larouge, six weeksof that horrible 'Red Crawl' have made of him."
"'The Red Crawl'? Good heavens! then that letter, that appeal forhelp----"
"Came from him!" she finished excitedly. "It was he who was to have metyou here to-night, Mr. Cleek. This house is one he owns; he thought hemight with safety risk coming here, but--he can't! he can't! He knowsnow that there is danger for him everywhere; that his every step istracked; that the snare which is about him has been about him,unsuspected, for almost a year; that he dare not, absolutely dare not,appeal to the French police, and that if it were known he had appealedto you, he would be a dead man inside of twenty-four hours, and not onlydead, but--disgraced. Oh, Mr. Cleek," she stretched out two shakinghands and laid them on his arm, lifted a white, imploring face to his,"save him! save that dear broken old man! Ah, think! think! They are ourfriends, our dear country's friends, these French people. Their welfareis our welfare, ours is theirs! Oh, help him, save him, Mr. Cleek--forhis own sake--for mine--for France! Save him, and win my gratitudeforever!"
"That is a temptation that would carry me to the ends of the earth, MissLorne. Tell me what the work is, and I will carry it through. What isthis incomprehensible thing of which both you and Baron de Carjorac havespoken, this thing you allude to as 'The Red Crawl'?"
She gave a little shuddering cry and fell back a step, covering her facewith both hands.
"Oh!" she said, with a shiver of repulsion. "It is horrible--it isnecromancy beyond belief! Why, oh, why were we ever driven to thathorrible Chateau Larouge? Why could not fate have spared the Villa deCarjorac? It could not have happened then!"
"Villa de Carjorac? That was the name of the baron's residence, Ibelieve. I remember reading in the newspapers some five or six weeks agothat it was destroyed by fire, which originated--nobody knew how--in theapartments of the late baroness in the very dead of the night. I thoughtat the time it read suspiciously like the work of an incendiary,although nobody hinted at such a thing. The Chateau Larouge I also havea distinct memory of, as an old historic property in the neighbourhoodof St. Cloud. Speaking from past experience, I know that, although it isin such a state of decay, and supposed to be uninhabitable, it has, infact, often been occupied at a period when the police and the publicbelieved it to be quite empty. Gentlemen of the Apache persuasion havefrequently made it a place of retreat. There is also an undergroundpassage, executed by those same individuals, which connects with theParis sewers. That, too, the police are unaware of. What can the ruinedChateau Larouge possibly have to do with the affairs of the Baron deCarjorac, Miss Lorne, that you connect them like this?"
"They have everything to do with them. The Chateau is no longer a ruin,however. It was purchased, rebuilt, refitted by the Comtesse Susanne dela Tour, Mr. Cleek, and she and her brother live there. So do we,Athalie, Baron de Carjorac, and I. So, also, does the creature--thething--the abominable horror known as 'The Red Crawl.'"
"My dear Miss Lorne, what are you saying?"
"The truth, nothing but the truth!" she answered hysterically. "Oh, letme begin at the beginning. You'll never understand unless I do. I'lltell you in as few words as possible, as quickly as I can. It all beganlast winter, when Athalie and her father were at Monte Carlo. There theymet Madame la Comtesse de la Tour and her brother, Monsieur GastonMerode. The baron has position but he has not wealth, Mr. Cleek. Athalieis ambitious. She loves luxury, riches, a life of fashion, all thethings that boundless money can give; and when Monsieur Merode--who isyoung, handsome, and said to be fabulously wealthy--showed a distinctpreference for her over all the other marriageable girls he met, she wasflattered out of her silly wits. Before they left Monte Carlo for Pariseverybody could see that he had only to ask her hand, to have itbestowed upon him. For although the baron never has cared for the man,Athalie rules him, and her every caprice is humoured.
"But, for all he was so ardent a lover, Monsieur Merode was slow incoming to the important point. Perhaps his plans were not matured. Atany rate, he did not propose to Athalie at Monte Carlo; and, although heand his sister returned to Paris at the same time as the baron and hisdaughter, he still deferred the proposal."
"Has he not made it yet?"
"Yes, Mr. Cleek. He made it six weeks ago, to be exact, two nightsbefore the Villa de Carjorac was fired."
"You think it was fired, then?"
"I do now, although I had no suspicion of it at the time. Athaliereceived her proposal on the Saturday, the baron gave his consent on theSunday, and on Monday night the villa was mysteriously burnt, leavingall three of us without an immediate refuge. In the meantime, Madame laComtesse had purchased the ruin of the Chateau Larouge, and during theperiod of her brother's deferred proposal was engaged in fitting it upas an abode for herself and him. On the very day it was finished,Monsieur Merode asked for Athalie's hand."
"Oho!" said Cleek, with a strong rising inflection. "I think I begin tosmell the toasting of the cheese. Of course, when the villa was burntout, Madame l
a Comtesse insisted that, as the fiancee of her brother,Mademoiselle de Carjorac must make her home at the Chateau until thenecessary repairs could be completed; and, of course, the baron had togo with her?"
"Yes," admitted Ailsa. "The baron accepted--Athalie would not haveallowed him to decline had he wished to--so we all three went there andhave been residing there ever since. On the night after our arrival analarming, a horrifying, thing occurred. It was while we were at dinnerthat the conversation turned upon the supernatural, upon houses andplaces that were reputed to be haunted, and then Madame la Comtesse madea remarkable statement. She laughingly asserted that she had justlearned that, in purchasing the Chateau Larouge, she had also become thepossessor of a sort of family ghost. She said that she had only justheard, from an outside source, that there was a horrible legendconnected with the place; in short, that for centuries it had beenreputed to be under a sort of spell of evil and to be cursed by adreadful visitant known as 'The Red Crawl'--a hideous and loathsomecreature. It was neither spider nor octopus, but horribly resembled bothand was supposed to 'appear' at intervals in the middle of the nightand, like the fabled giants of fairy tales, carry off 'lovely maidensand devour them.'"
"Who is responsible for that ridiculous assertion, I wonder? I think Imay say that I know as much about the Chateau Larouge and its history asanybody, Miss Lorne, but I never heard of this supposed 'legend' beforein all my life."
"So the baron, too, declared, laughing as derisively as any of us overthe story, although it is well known that he has a natural antipathy toall crawling things, an abhorrence inherited from his mother, and hasbeen known to run like a frightened child from the appearance of a meregarden spider."
"Oho!" said Cleek again. "I see! I see! The toasted cheese smellsstronger, and there's a distinct suggestion of the Rhine about it thistime. There's something decidedly German about that fabulous 'monster'and that haunted Chateau, Miss Lorne. They are clever and carefulschemers, those German Johnnies. Of course, this amazing 'Red Crawl' wasproved to have an absolute foundation in fact, and equally, of course,it 'appeared' to the Baron de Carjorac?"
"Yes--that very night. After we had all gone to bed, the house wasroused by his screams. Everybody rushed to his chamber, only to find himlying on the floor in a state of collapse. The thing had been in hisroom, he said. He had seen it, it had even touched him--a horrible,hideous red reptile, with squirming tentacles, a huge, glowing body, andeyes like flame. It had crept upon him out of the darkness, he knew notfrom where. It had seized him, resisted all his wild efforts to tearloose from it, and when he finally sank, overcome and fainting, upon thefloor, his last conscious recollection was of the loathsome thingsettling down upon his breast and running its squirming 'feelers' up anddown his body."
"Of course! Of course! That was part of the game. It was aftersomething. Something of the utmost importance to German interests.That's why the Chateau Larouge was refitted, why the Villa de Carjoracwas burnt down, and why this Monsieur Gaston Merode became engaged toMademoiselle Athalie."
"Oh, how could you know that, Mr. Cleek? Nobody ever suspected. Thebaron never confessed to any living soul until he did so to me, to-day,and then only because he had to tell somebody, in order that theappointment with you might be kept. How, then, could you guess?"
"By putting two and two together, Miss Lorne, and discovering that theydo not make five. The inference is very clear: Baron de Carjorac isPresident of the Board of National Defences; Germany, in spite of itspublic assurances to the contrary, is known by those who are 'on theinside' to harbour a very determined intention of making a secretattack, an unwarned invasion, upon England. France is the key to thesituation. If, without the warning that must come through the delay ofpicking a quarrel and entering into an open war with the Republic, theGerman army can swoop down in the night, cross the frontier, and gainimmediate possession of the ports of France, in five hours' time it canbe across the English Channel, and its hordes pouring down upon asleeping people. To carry out this programme, the first step would, ofcourse, be to secure knowledge of the number, location, manner of thesecret defences of France, the plans of fortification, the maps of the'danger zone,' the documentary evidence of her strongest and weakestpoints. And who so likely to be the guardian of these as the Baron deCarjorac? That is how I know that 'The Red Crawl' was after something ofvital importance to German interests, Miss Lorne. That he got it, I knowfrom the fact that the baron, while hinting at disgrace and speaking ofperil to his own life, dared not confide in the French authorities andask the assistance of the French police. Moreover, if 'The Red Crawl'had failed to secure anything, the baron, with his congenital loathingof all crawling things, would have left the Chateau Larougeimmediately."
"Oh, to think that you guessed it so easily, and it was all such apuzzle to me. I could not think, Mr. Cleek, why he did remain; why hewould not be persuaded to go, although every night was adding to thehorror of the thing and it seemed clear to me that he was going mad. Ofcourse, Madame la Comtesse and her brother tried to reason him out ofwhat he declared, tried to make him believe that it was all fancy, thathe did not really see the fearful thing; it was equally in vain that Imyself tried to persuade him to leave the place before his reason becameunsettled. Last night"--she paused, shuddered, put both hands over herface, and drew in a deep breath--"last night, I, too, saw 'The RedCrawl,' Mr. Cleek--I, too! I, too!"
"You, Miss Lorne?"
"Yes. I made up my mind that I would--that, if it existed, I would haveabsolute proof of it. The countess and her brother had scoffed sofrequently, had promised the baron so often that they would set aservant on guard in the corridor to watch, and then had said so often topoor, foolish, easily persuaded Athalie that it was useless doinganything so silly, as it was absolutely certain that her father onlyimagined the thing, that I determined to take the step myself, unknownto any of them. After everybody had gone to bed, I threw on a loose,dark gown, crept into the corridor, and hid in a niche from which Icould see the door of the baron's room. I waited until aftermidnight--long after--and then--and then----"
"Calm yourself, Miss Lorne. Then the thing appeared, I suppose?"
"Yes; but not before something equally terrible had happened. I saw thedoor of the countess's room open; I saw the countess herself come out,accompanied by the man who up till then I had believed, like everybodyelse, was her brother."
"And who is not her brother, after all?"
"No, he is not. Theirs is a closer tie. I saw her kiss him. I saw her gowith him to an angle of the corridor, lift a rug, and raise a trap inthe floor."
"Hullo! Hullo!" ejaculated Cleek. "Then she, too, knows of the passagewhich leads to the sewers. Clearly, then, this Countess de la Tour isnot what she seems, when she knows secrets that are known only to thefollowers of---- Well, never mind. Go on, Miss Lorne, go on. You saw herlift that trap; and what then?"
"Then there came up out of it the most loathsome-looking creature I haveever seen: a huge, crawling, red shape that was like a blood-red spider,with the eyes, the hooked beak, and the writhing tentacles of anoctopus. It made no sound, but it seemed to know her, to understand her,for when she waved her hand toward the open door of her own room,obeying that gesture, it dragged its huge bulk over the threshold, andpassed from sight. Then the man she called her brother kissed her again,and as he descended into the darkness below the trap I heard her sayquite distinctly: 'Tell Marise that I will come as soon as I can; butnot to delay the revel. If I am compelled to forego it to-night, thereshall be a wilder one to-morrow, when Clodoche arrives.'"
"Clodoche? By Jupiter!" Cleek almost jumped as he spoke. "Now I know the'lay'! No; don't ask me anything yet. Go on with the story, please. Whatthen, Miss Lorne, what then?"
"Then the man below said something which I could not hear and sheanswered in these words: 'No, no; there is no danger. I will guard itsafely, and it shall go into no hands but Clodoche's. He and Count vonHetzler will be there about midnight to-morrow to complete the deal andpay over
the money. Clodoche will want the fragment, of course, to showto the count as a proof that it is the right one, as "an earnest" ofwhat the remainder is worth. And you must bring me that "remainder"without fail, Gaston--you hear me?--without fail! I shall be there, atthe rendezvous, awaiting you, and the thing must be in our hands whenVon Hetzler comes. The work must be finished to-morrow night, even ifyou and Serpice have to throw all caution to the winds and throttle theold fool.' Then, as if answering a further question, she laughinglyadded: 'Oh, get that fear out of your head. I'm not a bat, to be caughtnapping. I'll give it to no one but Clodoche, and not even to him untilhe gives the secret sign.' And then, Mr. Cleek, as she closed the trap Iheard the man call back to her 'Good-night' and give her a name I hadnot heard before. We had always supposed that she had been christened'Suzanne,' but as that man left he called her----"
"I know before you tell me--'Margot'!" interjected Cleek. "I guessed theidentity of this 'Countess de la Tour' from the moment you spoke ofClodoche and that secret trap. Her knowledge of those two betrayed herto me. Clodoche is a renegade Alsatian, a spy in the pay of the GermanGovernment, and an old habitue of 'The Inn of the Twisted Arm,' wherethe Queen of the Apaches and her pals hold their frequent revels. I canguess the remainder of your story now. You carried this news to theBaron de Carjorac, and he, breaking down, confessed to you that he hadlost something."
"Yes, yes--a dreadful 'something,' Mr. Cleek: the horrible thing thathas been making life an agony to him ever since. On the night when thatabominable 'Red Crawl' first overcame him there was upon his person amost important document. It was a rough draft of the maps offortification and the plan of the secret defences of France, theidentical document from which was afterward transcribed the parchmentnow deposited in the secret archives of the Republic. When Baron deCarjorac recovered his senses after his horrifying experience----"
"That document was gone?"
"Part of it, Mr. Cleek, thank God, only a part! If it had been theparchment itself, no such merciful thing could possibly have happened.But the paper was old, much folding and handling had worn the creasesthrough, and when, in his haste, the secret robber grabbed it, whilstthat loathsome creature held the old man down, it parted directly downthe middle, and he got only a vertical section of each of its manypages."
"Victoria! 'And the fool hath said in his heart There is no God,'"quoted Cleek. "So, then, the hirelings of the enemy have only got halfwhat they are after; and, as no single sentence can be complete upon apaper torn like that, nothing can be made of it until the other half issecured, and our German friends are still 'up a gum-tree.' I know nowwhy the baron stayed on at the Chateau Larouge and why 'The Red Crawl'is preparing to pay him another visit to-night: He hoped, poor chap, tofind a clue to the whereabouts of the fragment he had lost; and thatthing is after the fragment he still retains. Well, it will be a long,long day before either of those two fragments falls into German hands."
"Oh, Mr. Cleek, you think you can get the stolen paper back? You believeyou can outwit those dreadful people and save the Baron de Carjorac'shonour and his life?"
"Miss Lorne"--he took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips--"MissLorne, I thank you for giving me the chance! If you will do what I askyou, be where I ask you in two hours' time, so surely as we two standhere this minute, I will put back the German calendar by ten years atleast. They drink 'To the day,' those German Johnnies, but by to-morrowmorning the English hand you are holding will have given them reason togroan over the night!"
II
It was half-past eleven o'clock. Madame la Comtesse, answering a reputedcall to the bedside of a dying friend, had departed early, and was notto be expected back, she said, until to-morrow noon. The servants--givenpermission by the gentleman known in the house as Monsieur GastonMerode, and who had graciously provided a huge char-a-banc for thepurpose--had gone in a body to a fair over in the neighbourhood ofSevres, and darkness and stillness filled the long, broad corridor ofthe Chateau Larouge. Of a sudden, however, a mere thread of soundwavered through the silence, and from the direction of Miss Lorne's rooma figure in black, with feet muffled in thick woollen stockings, paddedto an angle of the passage, lifted a trap carefully hidden beneath ahuge tiger-skin rug, and almost immediately Cleek's head rose up out ofthe gap.
"Thank God you managed to do it. I was horribly afraid you would not,"said Ailsa in a palpitating whisper.
"You need not have been," he answered. "I know a dozen places besides'The Inn of the Twisted Arm' from which one can get into the sewers.I've screwed a bolt and socket on the inner side of this trap in caseof an emergency, and I've carried a few things into the passage for'afterward.' I suppose that fellow Merode, as he calls himself, is inhis room, waiting?"
"Yes; and, although he pretends to be alone to-night, he has other menwith him, hideous, ruffianly looking creatures, whom I saw him admitafter the servants had gone. The countess has left the house and gone Idon't know where."
"I do, then. Make certain that she's at 'The Twisted Arm,' waiting,first, for the coming of Clodoche, and, second, for the arrival of thisprecious 'Merode' with the remaining half of the document. I've sentDollops there to carry out his part of the programme, and when once Iget the password Margot requires before she will hand over the paper,the game will be in my hands entirely. They are desperate to-night, MissLorne, and will stop at nothing--not even murder. There! the rug'sreplaced. Quick! lead me to the baron's room, there's not a minute towaste."
She took his hand and led him tiptoe through the darkness, and inanother moment he was in the Baron de Carjorac's presence.
"Oh, monsieur, God forever bless you!" exclaimed the broken old man,throwing himself on his knees before Cleek.
"Out with the light--out with the light!" exclaimed he, ducking downsuddenly. "Were you mad to keep it burning till I came, with that,"pointing to a huge bay window opening upon a balcony, "uncurtained andthe grounds, no doubt, alive with spies?"
Miss Lorne sprang to the table where the baron's reading-lamp stood,jerked the cord of the extinguisher, and darkness enveloped the room,darkness tempered only by the faint gleams of the moon streaming overthe balcony and through the panes of the uncurtained window.
Cleek, on his knees beside the kneeling baron, whipped a tiny electrictorch from his pocket and, shielding its flare with his scooped hands,flashed it upon the old man's face.
"Simple as rolling off a log--exactly like your pictures," he commented."I'll 'do' you as easily as I 'do' Clodoche and I could 'do' him in thedark from memory. Quick," snicking off the light of the electric torchand rising to his feet, "into your dressing-room, baron. I want thatsuit of clothes; I want that ribbon, that cross--and I want them atonce. You're a bit thicker set than me, but I've got my Clodoche rig onunderneath this, and it will fill out your coat admirably and make us aslike as two peas. Give me five minutes, Miss Lorne, and I promise you asurprise."
He flashed out of sight with the baron as he ceased speaking; and Ailsa,creeping to the window and peering cautiously out, was startledpresently by a voice at her elbow saying, in a tone of extremeagitation, "Oh, mademoiselle, I fear, even yet I fear, that this Anglaismonsieur attempts too moch, and that the papier he is gone forever."
"Oh, no, baron, no!" she said soothingly, as she laid a solicitous handupon his arm. "Do believe in him; do have faith in him. Ah, if you onlyknew----"
"Thanks. I reckon I shall pass muster!" interposed Cleek's voice; and itwas only then she realized. "You'll find the baron in the other room,Miss Lorne, looking a little grotesque in that gray suit of mine. Inwith you, quickly; go with him through the other door, and get belowbefore those fellows begin to stir. Get out of the house as quietly andas expeditiously as you can. With God's help, I'll meet you at the HotelLouvre in the morning, and put the missing fragment in the baron'shands."
"And may God give you that help!" she answered fervently, as she movedtoward the dressing-room door. "Ah, what a man! What a man!"
Then in a twinkling she was gone
, and Cleek stood alone in the silentroom. Giving her and the baron time to get clear of the other one, hewent in on tiptoe, locked the door through which they had passed, putthe key in his pocket, and returned. Going to the door which led fromthe main room into the corridor, he took the key from the lock of that,too, replacing it upon the outer side, and leaving the door itselfslightly ajar.
"Now then for you, Mr. 'The Red Crawl,'" he said, as he walked to thebaron's table, and, sinking down into a deep chair beside it, leanedback with his eyes closed as if in sleep, the faint light of the moonhalf-revealing his face. "I want that password, and I'll get it, if Ihave to choke it out of your devil's throat! And she said that she wouldbe grateful to me all the rest of her life! Only 'grateful,' I wonder?Is nothing else possible? What a good, good thing a real woman is!"
* * * * *
How long was it that he had been reclining there waiting before hisstrained ears caught the sound of something like the rustling of silkshivering through the stillness, and he knew that at last it was coming?It might have been ten minutes, it might have been twenty--he had nomeans of determining--when he caught that first movement, and, peeringthrough the slit of a partly opened eye, saw the appalling thing dragits huge bulk along the balcony and, with tentacles writhing, slide overthe low sill of the window, and settle down in a glowing red heap uponthe floor. Fake though he knew it to be, Cleek could not repress a swiftrush and prickle of "goose-flesh" at sight of it.
For a few seconds it lay dormant; then one red feeler shot out, thenanother, and another, and it began to edge its way across the carpet tothe chair. Cleek lay still and waited, his heavy breathing soundingregularly, his head thrown back, his limp hands lying loosely, palmsupward. Nearer and nearer crept the loathsome, red, glowing thing.
It crawled to his feet, and still he was quiet; it slid first onetentacle and then another over his knees and up toward his breast, andstill he made no movement; then, as it rose until its hideous beakedcountenance was close to his own, his hands flashed upward and clampedtogether like a vise--clamped on a palpitating human throat. In thetwinkling of an eye the tentacles were wrapped about him, and he and"The Red Crawl" were rolling over and over on the floor and battlingtogether.
"Serpice, you low-bred hound, I know you!" he whispered, as theystruggled. "You can't utter a cry. You shan't utter a cry to bring help.I'll throttle you, you beastly renegade, that's willing to sell his owncountry--throttle you, do you hear?--before you shall bring any of yourmates to the rescue. Oh, you've not got a weak old man to fight withthis time! Do you know me? It's the 'Cracksman,' the 'Cracksman' whowent over to the police. If you doubt it, now that we're in themoonlight, look up and see my face. Oho! you recognize me, I see. Well,you will die looking at me, you dog, if you deny me what I'm after. I'llloosen my grip enough for you to whisper, and no more. Now what's thepassword that Clodoche must give to Margot to-night at 'The TwistedArm'? Tell me what it is; if you want your life, tell me what it is?"
"I'll see you dead first!" came in a whisper from beneath the hideousmask. Then, as Cleek's fingers clamped tight again, and the battle begananew, one long, thin arm shot out from amongst the writhing tentacles,one clutching hand gripped the leg of the table and, with a wrench and atwist, brought it crashing to the floor with a sound that a deaf manmight have heard.
And in an instant there was pandemonium.
A door flew open, and, clashing heavily against the wall, sent an echoreeling along the corridor; then came a clatter of rustling feet, avoice cried out excitedly: "Come on! come on! He's had to kill the oldfool to get it!" and Cleek had just time to tear loose from the shapewith which he was battling, and dodge out of the way when the man Merodelurched into the room, with half a dozen Apaches tumbling in at hisheels.
"Serpice!" he cried, rushing forward, as he saw the gasping red shapeupon the floor; "Serpice! Mon Dieu! what is it?"
"The Cracksman!" he gulped. "Cleek!--the Cracksman who went against us!Catch him! stop him!"
"The Cracksman!" howled out Merode, twisting round in the darkness andreaching blindly for the haft of his dirk. "Nom de Dieu! Where?"
And almost before the last word was uttered a fist like a sledge-hammershot out, caught him full in the face, and he went down with a wholesmithy of sparks flashing and hissing before his eyes.
"There!" answered Cleek, as he bowled him over. "Gentlemen of thesewers, my compliments. You'll make no short cut to 'The Twisted Arm'to-night!"
Then, like something shot from a catapult, he sprang to the door,whisked through it, banged it behind him, turned the key, and wentracing down the corridor like a hare.
"It must be sheer luck now!" he panted, as he reached the angle and,kicking aside the rug, pulled up the trap. "They'll have that door downin a brace of shakes, and be after me like a pack of ravening wolves.The race is to the swift this time, gentlemen, and you'll have to take along way round if you mean to head me off."
Then he passed down into the darkness, closed the trap-door after him,shot into its socket the bolt he had screwed there, flashed up thelight of his electric torch, and, _without_ the password, turned towardthe sewers, and ran, and ran, and ran!
III
It lacked but a minute of the stroke of twelve, and the revels at "TheTwisted Arm"--wild at all times, but wilder to-night than ever--were attheir noisiest and most exciting pitch. And why not? It was not oftenthat Margot could spend a whole night with her rapscallion crew, and shehad been here since early evening and was to remain here until the dawnbroke gray over the housetops and the murmurs of the workaday worldawoke anew in the streets of the populous city. It was not often thateach man and each abandoned woman present knew to a certainty that he orshe would go home through the mists of the gray morning with a fistfulof gold that had been won without labour or the taking of any personalrisk; and to-night the half of four hundred thousand francs was to bedivided among them.
No wonder they had made a carnival of it, and tricked themselves out ingala attire; no wonder they had brought a paste tiara and crownedMargot. Margot, was in flaming red to-night, and looked a devil'sdaughter indeed, with her fire-like sequins and her red ankles twinklingas she threw herself into the thick of the dance and kicked, andwhirled, and flung her bare arms about to the lilt of the music and thefluting of her own happy laughter.
"Per Baccho! The devil's in her to-night!" grinned old Marise, theinnkeeper, from her place behind the bar, where the lid of thesewer-trap opened. "She has not been like it since the Cracksman brokewith her, Toinette. But that was before your time, ma fille. Mother ofthe heavens! but there was a man for you! There was a king that wasworthy of such a queen. Name of disaster! that she could not hold him,that the curse of virtue sapped such a splendid tree, and that she couldtake up with another after him!"
"Why not?" cried Toinette, as she tossed down the last half of herabsinthe and twitched her flower-crowned head. "A kingdom must have aking, ma mere; and Dieu! but he is handsome, this Monsieur GastonMerode! And if he carries out his part of the work to-night he will beworthy of the homage of all."
"'If' he carries it out--'if'!" exclaimed Marise, with a lurch of theshoulders and a flirt of her pudgy hand. "Soul of me! that's where thedifference lies. Had it been the Cracksman, there would have been no'if'. It were done as surely as he attempted it. Name of misfortune! Ihad gone into a nunnery had I lost such a man. But she----"
The voice of Margot shrilled out and cut into her words.
"Absinthe, Marise, absinthe for them all and set the score down to me!"she cried. "Drink up, my bonny boys; drink up, my loyal maids.Drink--drink till your skins will hold no more. No one pays to-night butme!"
They broke into a cheer, and bearing down in a body upon Marise, threwher into a fever of haste to serve them.
"To Margot!" they shouted, catching up the glasses and lifting themhigh. "Vive la Reine des Apache! Vive la compagnie! To Margot! toMargot!"
She swept them a merry bow, threw them a laughing salut
e, and drank thetoast with them.
"Messieurs, my love--mesdames et mademoiselles, my admiration," shecried, with a ripple of joy-mad laughter. "To the success of theApaches, to the glory of four hundred thousand francs, and to the quickarrival of Serpice and Gaston." Then, her upward glance catching sightof the musicians sipping their absinthe in the little gallery above,she flung her empty glass against the wall behind them, and shook withlaughter as they started in alarm and spilled the green poison when theydodged aside. "Another dance, you dawdlers!" she cried. "Does Marise payyou to sit there like mourners? Strike up, you mummies, or you payyourselves for what you drink to-night. Soul of desires!"--as themusicians grabbed up their instruments, and a leaping, lilting,quick-beating air went rollicking out over the hubbub--"a quadrille, youangels of inspiration! Partners, gentlemen! Partners, ladies! Aquadrille! A quadrille!"
They set up a many-throated cheer, flocked out with her upon the floor,and in one instant feet were flying, skirts were whirling, laughter andjest mingling with waving arms and kicking toes, and the whole place wasin one mad riot of delirious joy.
And in the midst of this there rolled up suddenly a voice crying, asfrom the bowels of the earth, "Hola! Hola! La! la! loi!" the cry of theApache to his kind.
"Mother of delights! It is one of us, and it comes from the sewerpassage!" shrilled out Marise, as the dancers halted and Margot ran,with fleet steps, toward the bar. "Listen! listen! They come to you,Margot--Serpice and Gaston. The work is done."
"And before even Clodoche or Von Hetzler have arrived!" she repliedexcitedly. "Give them light, give them welcome. Be quick!"
Marise ducked down, loosened the fastenings of the trap-door, flung itback, and, leaning over the gap with a light in her hand, called downinto the darkness, "Hola! Hola! La! la! loi! Come on, comrades, comeon!"
The caller obeyed instantly. A hand reached up and gripped the edge ofthe flooring, and out of the darkness into the light emerged the figureof a man in a leather cap and the blue blouse of a mechanic. He was apale, fox-faced, fox-eyed fellow, with lank, fair hair, a brush ofragged yellow beard, and the look and air of the sneak and spy indeliblybranded upon him.
It was Cleek.
"Clodoche!" exclaimed Marise, falling back in surprise.
"Clodoche!" echoed Margot. "Clodoche--and from the sewers?"
"Yes--why not?" he answered, his tongue thick-burred with the accent ofAlsace, his shifting eyes flashing toward the huge window behind thebar, where, in the moonlight, the narrow passage leading down to thedoor of "The Twisted Arm" gaped evilly between double rows of scowling,thief-sheltering houses. "Name of the fiend! Is this the welcome yougive the bringer of fortune, Margot?"
"But from the sewer?" she repeated. "It is incomprehensible, cher ami.You were to pilot Von Hetzler over from the Cafe Dupin to the squarebeyond there"--pointing to the window--"to leave him waiting a momentwhile you came on to see if it were safe for him to enter; and now youcome from the sewer, from the opposite direction entirely!"
"Mother of misfortunes! You had done the same yourself--you, Lantier;you, Clopin; you Cadarousse; any of you, had you been in my boots," hemade answer. "I stole a leaf from your own book, earlier in the evening.Garrotted a fellow with jewels on him, in the Rue Noir, near the MarketPlace, and nearly got into 'the stone bottle' for doing it. He was adecoy, set there by the police for some of you fellows, and there was asergeant de ville after me like a whirlwind. I was not fool enough toturn the chase in this direction, so I doubled and twisted until it wassafe to dive into the tavern of Fouchard, and lay in hiding there.Fouchard let his son carry a message to the count for me, and will guidehim to the square. When it grew near the time to come, Fouchard let medown into the sewer passage from there. Get on with your dance, silenceis always suspicious. An absinthe, Marise! Have Gaston and Serpicearrived yet with the rest of the document, Margot la reine?"
"Not yet," she answered. "But one may expect them at any minute."
"Where is the fragment we already possess?"
"Here," tapping her bodice and laughing, "tenderly shielded, mon ami;and why not? Who would not mother a thing that is to bring one fourhundred thousand francs?"
"Let me see it? It must be shown to the count, remember. He will take norisks, come not one step beyond the square, until he is certain that itis the paper his Government requires. Let me have it. Let me take it tohim--quick!"
She waved aside airily the hand he stretched toward her, and danced intothe thick of the resumed quadrille.
"Ah, non! non! non!" she laughed, as he came after her. "The conditionswere of your own making, cher ami; we break no rules even amongourselves."
"Soul of a fool! But if the count comes to the square--he is due therenow, mignonne--and I am not there to show him the thing---- Margot, forthe love of God, let me have the paper!"
"Let me have the sign, the password!"
Cleek snapped at a desperate chance because there was nothing else todo, because he knew that at any moment now the end might come.
"'When the purse will not open, slit it!'" he hazarded,desperately--choosing, on the off-chance of its correctness, thepassword of the Apache.
"It is not the right one! It is by no means the right one!" she madereply, backing away from him suddenly, her absinthe-brightened eyesderiding him, her absinthe-sharpened laughter mocking him. "Yourthoughts are in the Bois, cher ami. What is the password of thebrotherhood to the cause of Germany, stupid? It is not right, non! non!It is not right!"
The cause of Germany! At the words the truth rushed like a flash ofinspiration across Cleek's mind. The cause of Germany! what a dolt hewas not to have thought of that before! There was but one phrase everused for that among the Kaiser's people, and that phrase----
"'To the day!'" he said, with a burst of sudden laughter. "My wits arein the moon to-night, la reine. 'To the day,' of course--'To the day'!"And even before she replied to him, he knew that he had guessed aright.
"Bravo!" she said, with a little hiccough, for the absinthe, of whichshe had imbibed so freely to-night, was beginning to take hold of her."A pretty conspirator to forget how to open the door he himself locked!It is well I know thee; it is well it was our word in the beginning, orI had been suspicious, silly! Wait but a moment"--putting her hand toher breast and beginning to unfasten her bodice--"wait but a moment,Monsieur Twitching-Fingers, and the thing shall be in your hand."
The strain, the relief, were all too great for even such nerves asCleek's, and if he had not laughed aloud, he knew that he must havecheered.
"Oho! you grin because one's fingers blunder with eagerness," hiccoughedMargot, thinking his laughter was for the trouble she had in getting thefastenings of her bodice undone. "Peste, monsieur! may not a lady wellbe modestly careful when---- Name of the devil! what's that?"
It was the note of a whistle shrilling down the narrow passagewithout--the passage where Dollops, in Apache garb, had been set onwatch; and, hearing it, Cleek clamped his jaws together and breathedhard. A single whistle, short and sharp, such as this, was the signalagreed upon that the real Clodoche was coming, and that he and Countvon Hetzler had already appeared in the square beyond.
"Soul of a sloth! will not that hurry you, la reine?" he said excitedly,in reply to Margot's startled question. "It is the signal Fouchard's sonwas to give when he and Von Hetzler arrived at the place where I am tomeet them. Give me the paper quick! Tear the fastenings, if they willnot come undone else. One cannot keep a Von Hetzler waiting like alackey for a scrap of ribbon and a bit of lace."
"Pardieu! they have kept better men than he waiting many an hour beforethis," she made reply. "But you shall have the thing in a twinkling now.There! but one more knot, and then it is in your hands."
And, had the fates not decreed otherwise, so, indeed, it would havebeen. But then, just then, when another second would have brought thepaper into view, another moment seen it shut tight in the grip of hisitching fingers, disaster came and blotted out his hopes!
Withou
t hint or warning, without sign or sound to lessen the shock ofit, the trap-door behind the bar flew up and backward with a crash thatsent Marise and her assistants darting away from it in shrieking alarm;a babel of excited voices sounded, rushing feet scuffled and flashedalong the shaking floor, and Merode and his followers tumbledhelter-skelter into the room.
Cleek, counting on the bolt which kept them from entering the passagefrom the corridor of the Chateau Larouge and thus forcing them to take along, roundabout journey to "The Twisted Arm," had not counted on theirshortening that journey by entering the passage from Fouchard's tavern,doing, in fact, the very thing which he had declared to Margot hehimself had done. And lo! here they were, howling and crowding abouthim, dirks in their hands and devils in their eyes and hearts--and thepaper not his yet!
A clamour rose as they poured in; the dancers ceased to dance; the musicceased to play; and Margot, shutting a tight clutch on the loosened partof her half-unfastened bodice, swung away from Cleek's side, and flew ina panic to Merode.
"Gaston!" she cried, knowing from his wild look and the string of oathsand curses his followers were blurting out that something had goneamiss. "Gaston, mon coeur! Name of disaster! what is wrong?"
"Everything is wrong!" he flung back excitedly. "That devil, thatrenegade, that fury, Cleek, the Cracksman, is here. He came to therescue out of the very skies and all but killed Serpice!"
"Cleek!" Fifty shrill voices joined Margot's in that screaming cry;fifty more dirks flashed into view. "Cleek in France? Cleek? Where ishe? Which way did he go? Where's the narker--where--where?"
"Here, if anywhere!"
"Here?"
"Yes, unless you've been fooled, and let him get away! He knows aboutthe paper, and is after it, Margot; and if any one has come up from thesewers within the past twenty minutes----"
They knew instantly and a roar of excited voices yelled out: "Clodoche!Clodoche! Clodoche!" as, snarling and howling like a pack of wolves,they bore down with a rush on the blue-bloused figure that was creepingtoward the door.
But as they sprang it sprang also! It was neck or nothing now. Cleekrealized it, and, throwing himself headlong over the bar, clutchedfrantically at the lever which he knew controlled the flow of gas,jammed it down with all his strength, shut off the light, and, grabbingup a chair, sent it crashing through the window.
The crowd surged on toward the wrecked bar with a yell, surged from alldirections, and then abruptly stopped. For the sudden darkness withinhad made more prominent the moonlighted passage without; and there,scuttling away in alarm from this sudden uproar and the outward flyingof that hurled chair, a figure which but a moment before had comeskulking to the window could now be seen.
"There he goes--there! there!" shrilled out a chorus of excited voices,as the yellow-bearded, blue-bloused figure came into view. "After him!Catch him! Knife him!"
In an instant they were at the door, tumbling out into the darkness,pouring up the passage in hot pursuit. And it was at that moment thebalance changed again. Those who were in the front rank of the pursuerswere in time to see a lithe, thin figure, dressed as one of their ownkind, spring up in the path of that other figure, jump on it, grip it,clap a huge square of sticky brown paper over the howling mouth of it,and bear it, struggling and kicking, to the ground.
In another second they, too, were upon it, swarming over it like rats,digging and hacking at it with their dirks. And so they were stillhacking at it--although it had long since ceased to move or to make anysound--when Merode came up and called them to a halt.
"Drag it inside; let Margot have a thrust at it. It is her right. Pulloff the dog's disguise, and bring me the plucky one that captured him.He shall have absinthe enough to swim in, the little king! Off with itall, Lanchere. First, the plaster, that's right. Now, the wig and beard,and after that---- What's that you say? The beard is real? The hair isreal? They will not come off? Name of the devil! what are you saying?"
"The truth, mon roi--the truth! Mother of disasters! It is not theCracksman--it is the real Clodoche we have killed!"
For one moment a sort of panic held them, swayed them, and befoggedtheir brains; then of a sudden Merode howled out "Get back! Get back!The fellow's in there still!" and led a blind race down the passage tothe bar where they had seen Cleek last. It was still in darkness; but aneager hand, gripping the lever, turned on the gas again and matcheseverywhere were lifted to the jets.
And when the light flamed out and the room was again ablaze they knewthat they might as well hope to call back yesterday as dream of findingCleek again. For there on the floor, her limp hands turned palms upward,a chloroformed cloth folded over her mouth and nose, lay the figure ofMargot, her bodice torn wide open and the paper forever gone!
* * * * *
It was five minutes later when the Count von Hetzler, crouching back inthe shadow of the square and waiting for the return of Clodoche, heard adull, whirring sound that was unmistakably the purr of a motor throbthrough the stillness, and, leaning forward, saw a limousine whirl upout of the darkness, cut across the square, and like a flash dash offwestward. Yet in the brief instant it took to go past the place where hewaited there was time for him to catch the sharp click of a loweredwindow, see the clear outlines of a man's face looking out, and to heara voice from within the vehicle speak.
"Herr Count," it said in clear, incisive tones. "A positively infalliblerecipe for the invasion of England: Wait until the Channel freezes andthen skate over. Good-night!"
Cleek, the Master Detective Page 2