Chapter I

IN his study, situated in the Rue Saint-Dominique, the Minister of War was walking to and fro. In furious fashion he twisted his moustache, which seemed even redder than usual, as he nervously fingered his eyeglass, in a manner which promised anything but a cordial welcome to any who entered his presence. Doubtless, his officers were well acquainted with the reasons of his ill-humour, for a profound silence reigned all around, and the great man’s solitude was undisturbed save by the querulous twitterings of the birds in the garden. A minute later, he seemed to lose all patience, and, marching to the mantelpiece, he pressed an electric bell. An usher, with anxious mien, at once approached.

“Has Colonel Vallenot returned?” exclaimed the Minister, in fierce tones.

The servant shrunk away, as though he would have liked the earth to open and swallow him; then he stammered, faintly—

“I do not think so, sir—I will ask—”

The General became purple with rage. An oath burstforth from his lips like a bombshell, then a second, the third was useless. The door was again closed, the servant had vanished.

“What can Vallenot be doing all the time he has been gone?” muttered the Minister, as he resumed his pacing about the room. “Ah! This is the way I am served!”

Before he could finish, the usher had opened the door, and announced—

“Colonel Vallenot.”

A man of fifty years of age, tall and thin, with blue eyes and light moustache, marched briskly into the room, and, after saluting his superior in friendly wise, said—

“You seem to have lost all patience, General. I found an officer waiting for me at the very door of the War Office. The fact is, this has been anything but a small matter. After all, I have done everything possible—”

“Indeed!” interrupted the Minister, impatiently. “You have just come from Vanves?”

“Yes, General.”

“Alone?”

“No; I took with me one of our cleverest detectives. You had not given me this authorization, but I took upon myself the responsibility.”

“You have done quite right. But are you sure he is trustworthy?”

“Absolutely. He is a former sub-officer. Besides, I did not reveal to him the real object of my researches; he knows nothing important, and imagines he has simply been my auxiliary in an inquiry into the causes of a catastrophe hitherto ill-explained. We have nothing to fear in this direction.”

“Well, what has been the result of your researches?”

“If you will allow me, General, we will divide the inquiry into two parts, one consisting of moral circumstances, the other of material facts. The affair is more complicated than you at first thought, and when I have finished, your embarrassment, instead of having lessened, will probably have increased.”

“Impossible!”

He sat down before the desk, leaned over on his elbows, and, motioning to the Colonel to take a seat in an armchair by his side, said—

“Now, tell me everything.”

“The house tenanted by General de Trémont is situated above the village of Vanves, near the fort. It was the night-watch which gave the alarm, and the garrison which organized first aid when the fire broke out. Nothing worth mentioning remains of the building. The explosion of the combustible matter contained in the laboratory has disorganized the very foundations, and the effect has been formidable. Stones hurled into the air have been found more than a mile distant, and the surrounding gardens belonging to the peasants are covered with _débris_. Had there been houses in the neighbourhood, the loss to property would have been enormous—”

The Minister interrupted.

“The effects of melinite, probably?”

“No, General, something quite different! Increase a hundred-fold the effects of the powder actually employed in charging our bombshells, and then perhaps you will have the equivalent of the destructive power revealed by the explosion of General de Trémont’s laboratory.”

The Minister shook his head.

“Yes; that is what he told me the last time I saw him at the Artillery meeting. He was on the trace of a discovery destined to give to our cannons so crushing a superiority that we were to become for long the arbiters of victory. The struggle against us would have been marked by such massacres, accomplished with such absolute precision, that our military supremacy would have been certain once more. Has this had anything to do with the discovery?”

“Then you admit, General, that malevolence may not have been entirely foreign to this mishap!”

“I admit nothing, Vallenot. I suspect everything. When you have told me all you know, we will talk it over. Continue.”

“On reaching the spot, we found a body of troops, who had been ordered by the Ministry to proceed there, guarding the approaches of the property. There was already collected a crowd of three or four hundred people, discussing the matter, without counting a score of journalists, who made more noise than all the others together. They were complaining that they were not allowed to visit the spot _where_ the explosion had taken place among the still smoking ruins of the villa. But there was in command a stern little lieutenant, who, in quite military fashion, had maintained order. Probably the press will be against us, but in the mean time we shall not have been interrupted; and that is something to be thankful for. Inside, there was only the secretary of the Prefecture of Police and the head of the detective force. My agent and I had come at the right moment. The researches were just beginning—”

“_Where_? In the house?”

“On the site of what had been the house, and which now offered to the gaze nothing but a gaping hole, at the bottom of which appeared a cellar, the vaults of which had been burst open. A staved-in barrel of wine formed a red pool on the floor. Not a trace of the staircase remained. The very steps had disappeared, and the stones were broken up into fragments as large as pigeons’ eggs. Never should I have thought such a crumbling possible. Wonderful to relate, one side of a wall which must have belonged to a wash-house remained standing, along with a narrow window, in the iron bars of which a cloth-rag was waving. We were all staring at this solitary vestige of the disaster, when the chief of the detective force cautiously approached the spot. Raising his stick, he touched the shapeless rag hanging there, picked it up from the ground with an exclamation of surprise, and exposed it to our gaze. It was a human arm, still covered with both coat and shirt sleeves, cut off at the elbow, and covered with blood, the hand quite black.”

“Most extraordinary!” exclaimed the Minister.

“Rather sinister, General,” continued Colonel Vallenot. “I have seen hundreds of men killed on the field of battle, and thousands of wounded carried off in ambulances. At Gravelotte, I saw the head of the captain of my squadron roll at my feet, and the eyes wink repeatedly in the dust. It had been carried off by the bursting of a shell. In Tonkin I have found soldiers cut in four, their faces still grinning in spite of their torture. But never have I been so impressed as I was by this human arm, the sole remaining vestige of the drama we were trying to understand. The Government agent was the first to regain his _sang froid_, and he said, ‘Gentlemen, this is an important piece of evidence. This arm has evidently been hurled across these bars by the explosion. But to whom did it belong? Is it one of the ill-fated General de Trémont’s arms?’ ‘The General did not live alone in the villa,’ observed the detective. ‘There was a cook and a man-servant. Let us at once eliminate the supposition of the cook. This is a man’s arm; accordingly, it belonged either to the General or to his valet. Unless—’ There was a silence. The Government agent turned towards him and said, ‘Well, finish. Unless it belongs to the author of the catastrophe himself.’”

“Ah!” said the Minister; “then he, too, thought the affair might be the result of a crime.”

“Yes, General; and, as he spoke, he examined with the most minute attention the smutty, blackened hand. Carefully separating the fingers, he drew from the fourth finger a ring, which none of us had noticed; and, holding it aloft in triumph, said, ‘The question is decided, if this ring belongs to the General. If not, we still doubtless possess a valuable piece of circumstantial evidence, which will permit us to unravel the mystery.’”

“A ring! The deuce! I never remember seeing Trémont wearing a ring! No! I would take my oath on it. He never wore an ornament of any kind in his life, much less a ring. It would have been absurd in a man who was in the habit of handling acids from morning to night! No metal would have resisted the oxidising action of the substances he used in his experiments. But what kind of a ring was it?”

“An engagement ring, General. When rubbed with a glove-skin, the gold circle shone out, freed from the soot which tarnished it. Our agent fingered it a moment, then pressed it with his nail, and the ring separated in two. ‘Look here, gentlemen!’ he exclaimed. ‘There are letters engraved in the interior. Whatever happens, we now hold a clue.’”

“This fellow has, indeed, proved himself very clever, Vallenot,” said the Minister. “Up to the present, I find that he is the only one who has shown any initiative. I must remember it.”

“Wait a little, General. I have not yet reached the end. The Government agent had taken up the engagement ring, and was examining it. He finally placed it coolly in his pocket, with the words, ‘We will look into this later on.’ And there we all stood, rather discountenanced by the strange intervention of the magistrate in leaving our curiosity thus disappointed. On due reflection, perhaps he was right in postponing for a more thorough examination the information destined to result from this discovery, in not publishing proofs which might be of supreme importance. Still, if he wished to keep the secret of his investigations, he was disappointed, for at that very moment our agent, pursuing his inquiries, had removed the double sleeve, and laid bare the naked arm. This time it was no longer possible to conceal what he had found. On the forearm, between the wrist and the bleeding end, a blue tattooing appeared, representing a heart surrounded with flames, around which could be read the words ‘Hans and Minna,’ and beneath the German word ‘Immer,’ signifying ‘Always.’ ‘Gentlemen,’ said the Government agent, fixing his eyeglass, ‘I demand of you the utmost discretion. A single word on what we have just discovered might have the most serious consequences. We may be in presence of an anarchist plot, or be obliged to suspect foreign interference. The affair is assuming quite unexpected proportions. In all probability a crime has been committed.’”

“The deuce!” exclaimed the Minister. “I say, Vallenot, this is becoming serious! Perhaps we ought at once to inform the President of the Board of—”

“The secretary of the Prefect of Police must have done so already. As soon as he saw how matters were turning, he did not wait for the end of the inquiry, but immediately rode off to the Place Beauvau.”

“The first thing to do is to prevent the press from saying anything silly. If we have a crow to pick with foreign agents, for Trémont’s investigations were suspected in Europe, it is of the highest importance that no suspicions be aroused, so that we may try to seize the authors of this guilty attempt.”

“That is what we thought, General, and, consequently, all arrangements have at once been taken. It was absolutely necessary to throw public opinion on a false scent. Accordingly, the theory of a chance accident was inevitable. It was at once decided that all communications made to the press should have this object in view. General de Trémont was rather eccentric, we must say, engaged in commercial chemical investigations, and it was his imprudence which had brought about the accident which has now cost him his life.”

“Poor Trémont! So fine a savant as he was! Well! well! State reasons must predominate. But it is hard to contribute in heaping calumnies on an old comrade!”

“Do not have such thoughts, General,” interrupted Colonel Vallenot, with a smile. “There are surprises in store for us which will, doubtless, lessen your regret.”

“What do you mean?” said the rough soldier, frowning. “You do not intend to utter calumnies against my friend from childhood, my comrade in war?”

“God forbid, General! I shall simply give you the facts on which you desired information. If I have the misfortune to displease you, you will not be angry with me; you are too just for that.”

“What is the meaning of this silence? Continue right to the end, Colonel; speak freely.”

“So I intend to do, General. Well, then, the secretary of the Prefect of Police had just undertaken to supply the version arranged by us to the numerous reporters waiting there, held in check by the line of troops, and to inform the Minister of the Interior, in case the police might have to be called in, when a great uproar arose from the direction of the village. A tumult of cries and shouts was heard. The lieutenant was preparing to go and see what was happening, when a man, breaking through the sentinels, ran up to us, bare-headed, with troubled countenance, and exclaiming, in tones of despair, ‘My master! O God! What has happened to the house? Not one stone left on another!’ Thereupon he halted, sank down on the ruins, and began to weep bitterly. We looked at him in silence, moved by his grief, and foreseeing some speedy enlightenment on the dark situation we were in. ‘Who are you, my friend?’ asked the Government agent. The man raised his head, passed his hand over his eyes to brush away his tears, and, raising up to us a countenance at once intelligent and determined, said, ‘The General’s head servant, sir, for the last twenty years. Ah! If I had been there, this disaster might perhaps have been avoided! At any rate, I would have died with him!’”

“It was Baudoin!” exclaimed the General. “The brave fellow had escaped! Ah! That is fortunate. We shall learn something from him!”

“Yes, General, but not the enlightenment we expected. Rather the contrary.”

“In what way the contrary?”

“I will explain. The night before, about six o’clock, the General was in his garden, strolling about, after working all day in the laboratory, when a telegram reached him from Vanves. He read it, continued his walk for a few minutes, with bowed head, as though in profound meditation, then he called Baudoin. ‘You must set out for Paris,’ he said to him. ‘I have an important order to give to my chemist, who lives in the Place de la Sorbonne. Give him this letter, then go to M. Baradier and pay him my respects. Then dine, and, if you like to spend the evening at the theatre, you may do so; here is a five franc piece. Return to-morrow morning with the chemicals.’

“Baudoin, who knew what it all meant, understood that the General wished him to leave the house for the whole night. He was anything but pleased at this, because, he said, it was not the first time that it had happened, and always under the same circumstances: the arrival of a telegram, and the dismissal immediately following.

“Still, the General did not give a holiday to the cook, with whom he was less cautious, as she was in the habit of going bed very early, which fact rendered any surveillance she might have exercised almost null. So the General needed to be alone from time to time. And he took care to send away the faithful servant, on whom he might have relied for the most complete discretion. What reason had he? This was what troubled Baudoin, and displeased him. So little was he accustomed to conceal his thoughts from his master that the latter noticed his sulky mood, and said to him: ‘What is the matter? Don’t you want me to send you to Paris? Are you to be pitied for the opportunity of going and enjoying yourself?’ ‘I don’t care about going to the theatre,’ Baudoin had said, ‘but I do about performing my duty.’ ‘Very well, you are doing your duty; you are obeying the order I have given you, to fetch for me some chemical products, dangerous to handle, but which I must have; besides, you are to call on my friend Baradier. Now go. I do not want you before to-morrow morning.’ ‘Very well, sir.’

“But Baudoin was anything but pleased, a secret anxiety troubled him. Proceeding to the kitchen, he said to the cook, ‘Last time the General sent me to Paris, what happened during the night? Did the General dine as usual? Did he shut himself up in his study, or did he go into the garden? At what time did he retire for the night? Did nothing happen out of the ordinary?’

“The woman said she knew nothing, she had noticed nothing unusual, and was very much astonished at his questions. He saw she was a thousand leagues from suspecting anything, so he did not press his questions. Still, although deeply respecting his master’s wishes, his interest in his welfare made him less strictly obedient, and he resolved to feign a departure, then take up a post outside, so that he might see what took place once the General was sure there was no inconvenient observer to be dreaded. The weather was exceedingly mild. Not a breath of air, and the gardens, filled with roses, shed forth exquisite odours as night approached.

“Baudoin, after dressing himself, went to take leave of his master, received from him a list of the chemical products to be purchased, a few lines for his friend Baradier, and then took his departure. He went straight to the station, dined in a small restaurant close by, and, after nightfall, returned towards the house of his master. He dared not enter the garden, as he was afraid he would be noticed by the General, so he slipped into a cottage garden, the owner of which was his friend, and concealed himself in a small hut used for storing tools.

“From this spot he could keep an eye on the approaches of the villa, and, along a thick hedge, come right up to the wall adjoining the General’s property. He sat down, lit his pipe, and waited. A few minutes before eight, the roll of a carriage was heard on the road. Baudoin, in ambush behind the hedge, was keeping a sharp look-out. By the light of the lantern he saw a brougham, drawn by two horses, pass by. Something told him that this carriage contained the persons the General was expecting. He ran along, right to the wall of the villa, and reached it the very moment the brougham came to a stop before the door. But he was not the only one on the look-out, for scarcely had the horses, still panting from the steep ascent, come to a halt, than the lofty form of the General showed itself through the darkness. At the same time, an impatient hand opened the door, and a man’s voice said, in foreign accents, ‘Ah! General, so you have come to meet us?’ M. de Trémont simply replied, ‘Is the Baroness there?’ ‘Certainly,’ replied the voice of a woman. ‘Could you imagine otherwise?’ The man was the first to descend. But the General gave him no time to help his companion to descend; he sprang forward with the eagerness of a lover, and, almost carrying off the lady in his arms, exclaimed, with extraordinary ardour, ‘Come, madame, you have nothing to fear—no one can see you.’ The man uttered a brutal laugh, and said, in guttural tones, ‘Do not trouble about me, I will follow you,’ and all three disappeared into the garden. Baudoin, astonished, had only time to place on the wall a ladder which happened to be there. As soon as he could look into his master’s garden, the alleys were empty, but the large window of the laboratory was shining through the darkness. The faithful fellow said to himself, ‘What is to be done? Enter the house? Play the spy on the General? Disobey his orders? For what reason? Has he not the right to receive any one he pleases? What am I thinking about? Is it likely that the people he receives are objects of suspicion? Their carriage is waiting at the door, a sign that they will not remain long, but will return to Paris immediately. Here I am, troubling my head for nothing in all probability! All I can do now is to obey my master.’ He descended the ladder, proceeded along the hedge, left the garden, and reached the railway. His master’s orders were now literally followed, except that the drug store was closed when he arrived there, and he was obliged to return the following morning. When he reached Vanves, he found the approaches to the General’s property occupied by a guard, the villa in ruins, and his master vanished from the scene of the catastrophe.”

Colonel Vallenot had finished. Profound silence, interrupted only by the twittering of the birds in the neighbouring trees, reigned in the Minister’s study. The old soldier, leaning forward on his desk, his head resting on his hand, was buried in reflection. After a short pause, he said, with a sigh—

“How surprising all this is! Doubtless here is the key of the whole matter. These two unknown characters, one with a foreign accent, coming mysteriously by night to see Trémont, and their visit followed by such a frightful cataclysm; what does it all mean? Is it an accident or a crime? And, if a crime, what motive inspired it?”

Rising, he crossed to the window, with anxious mien, then returned mechanically to his desk, resumed his seat, and, again fixing his eyes on the Colonel, said—

“Well! Vallenot, what happened after this honest fellow had finished his tale? What measures were taken?”

“A squad of soldiers from the fort had been sent for, and the ruins were carefully searched, under the supervision of the police. Nothing, however, was found. The destruction was too complete. With the exception of the side of the wall still standing, not a single piece of anything was left whole. Still, after a couple of hours’ examination of the _débris_, from which arose a very strong odour of fulminate of mercury, the diggers brought to light an iron chest, with broken hinges, the bottom of which was curiously pierced with thousands of holes as though with an auger.”

“That is one result of the explosion,” interrupted the Minister. “You are aware that we have in our shrapnels similar cases of rupture. It is quite possible the initial explosion took place in this chest. Has it been kept?”

“It was handed over to the Government agent.”

“We may need it again when we undertake an analysis of the substances which occasioned the deflagration. Finish your explanations. What became of the carriage stationed in front of the door?”

“The carriage must have left before the accident. There was not a trace of it on the road near the villa. The customs officers, on being interrogated, declared that a brougham, driven by two horses, returned to Paris about eleven o’clock. To the question, ‘Have you anything to declare?’ a female voice had replied, ‘Nothing.’ As for the explosion, the guard at the fort reports that it took place about three o’clock in the morning.”

“Then the man with the foreign accent had remained, after the departure of the carriage?”

“Most probably.”

“You are not certain?”

“I did not wait for the end of the investigations; I came away to inform you of what I had learnt, leaving behind me our agent, with orders to return here at once, after the final statement had been made.”

“Perhaps he is here now?”

Colonel Vallenot pressed the electric knob, and the usher appeared.

“Has Laforêt returned?”

“Yes, Colonel, a minute ago.”

“Send him here.”

Closing the door with considerable precaution, the agent, with firm step, a sonorous cough, and head raised in military fashion, as he stood at attention, appeared before his principals.

The Minister examined for a moment the man’s frank, martial face; then he asked briefly—

“Colonel Vallenot has reported all that had taken place up to the time of his departure from Vanves. Complete his version by telling us what you have learnt since. Take a seat, Vallenot.”

“Monsieur le Ministre,” said the agent, “I will come at once to the most important point: the body of General de Trémont has been found.”

“In the ruins?”

“In the garden. At first no one thought of searching beyond the house and the _débris_. It was whilst exploring the bushes that the body of the General was discovered, close to the entrance gate.”

“What! Had the explosion projected him so far?”

The agent replied—

“The body had not been projected by the explosion. It had remained on the very spot where it had been struck by a knife under the left shoulder-blade. The General was dead when the explosion took place, and certainly the explosion was caused by the assassin.”

“The man with the foreign accent? The companion of the lady the General called ‘Baroness’?”

The agent kept his countenance before these bold questions. For a moment he appeared to be reflecting; then he said—

“Yes, the one who has left his arm in the ruins of the villa, and who in forcing open the chest escaped death only by a miracle. The man named Hans, in short.”

“But what makes you say that he escaped death?” asked the Minister.

“Because I found tracks in the garden continued outside on the road he followed, leaving his blood behind at every step. The man must be endowed with indomitable energy to have had the strength to escape, mutilated as he was, to reach the fields, and there, doubtless, find some market cart or other to pick him up and carry him to Paris; but this is an additional inquiry to be made, and a track to be followed up.”

“In your opinion, then, it is the man who came with the woman who killed the General?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Ministre; most likely when the General was conducting them back to the carriage. The murder took place close to the gate. The sand is trodden down as though a struggle had taken place, and the body had been carried off behind the bushes. The traces of the trailing legs are quite visible. The woman probably helped. At any rate, once the murder accomplished, she must have left, whilst the man stayed behind. He robbed the General of his keys, which never left him, and which have not been found; in addition, he took his watch and portfolio, so that it might be believed that a murder, the motive of which was robbery, had been committed; then he entered the villa, and worked in the laboratory. It was with the laboratory that he had to do.”

“How do you know this?”

“From what Baudoin, his valet, said. It appears that, one day, whilst placing things in order, in the cabinet of the General, the latter entered on his way from the laboratory. He took a few paces in the room, rubbing his hands together; then he said almost to himself, ‘This time our fortune is made! What will Hans say?’ For a week the General had been working hard at an experiment, which had hitherto failed, and from which he expected great results. On different occasions, formerly, he had temporarily dismissed his valet, certainly with the object of receiving his mysterious guests at night.”

“Good; we will admit what you say regarding the man,” said the Minister, captivated by the explanations of his agent. “But, in your opinion, what shall we think of the _rôle_ played by the woman?”

“That is much more evident, Monsieur le Ministre; both indications and proofs abound. The General de Trémont has been the victim of a too tender disposition. I know nothing of the General’s secrets or researches, though the journals have on different occasions spoken of his investigations. He was a member of the Academy of Science, and his reputation as a savant was fully established. Suppose for a moment that M. de Trémont had made a discovery of interest to the future of European armies, and that some one Power wished to obtain information as to the value of his invention—obtain possession of it, perhaps. Do we not know that women have been, only too often, the best political agents employed in our country? In spite of his age, the General remained very susceptible. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, is placed in his path. He meets her by chance, falls in love with her. But the fair one is guarded; she is obliged to take great precautions. A complaisant friend, relation, perhaps, under the cover of science, facilitates the interviews by accompanying the lady, so as to throw some imaginary rival off the track. Whilst the old lover is paying his court, the benevolent companion, observes, takes his measures, skilfully questions, and obtains the confidence of the one to whom he is rendering a service. Passion lulls all fear, and a sweet smile and caressing eyes drive one to acts of folly. Then, one fine night, the General de Trémont, who has, doubtless, finished his discovery, is visited by the unknown couple. The woman tries to obtain the secret. She does not succeed. Then the man, as a last extremity, decides to strike. The General falls under the dagger; his accomplice takes to flight. The assassin returns with the keys, searches the laboratory, and tries to open the chest containing the precious products. But the dreaded powder, unskilfully handled, avenges its maker, and, in a terrible explosion, annihilates at the same time both formula and the one trying to steal it. This is how it is possible, Monsieur le Ministre, to make a guess at the events now occupying our attention. But—I do not wish to deceive myself—this is only conjecture. There may be other versions, more certain, if not more likely. What is an absolute fact is that General de Trémont has been assassinated, that the murderer was one of the two persons received that night at the villa, and that the explosion following on the crime has been caused by the imprudence of the man we may name Hans, who has been grievously wounded.”

The Minister and Colonel Vallenot looked at one another for a moment in silence. Then the Minister said to the agent—

“I thank you for your report, but do not trouble any further in the matter, which is in the hands of the police. If we have any additional investigations to make, I will send for you. Now go, and do not say a word to any one on the matter.”

Laforêt bowed, gave a military salute, and, with the same tranquil precision, left the room. The two principals sat there absorbed by what they had heard, going over once more all the details of this drama, which was becoming materially so clear, but remained morally so obscure. The precautions taken by the two accomplices appeared so perfect, that it was doubtful whether the truth could be learned concerning them. One hope remained—the wounded man, with his arm cut off, might be found, half-dead with exhaustion on the road. By questioning the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, the man might be discovered; doubtless the police were already on the track, and the most adroit detectives as well.

“You know, Vallenot, Trémont was my senior. He retired before the age limit, the more easily to devote his time to scientific research; as he had serious money difficulties.”

“And now,” said Colonel Vallenot, “we have reached the point I wished to come to, when I said, at the beginning of my report, that, after examining the material facts, we should deal with the moral considerations of this affair. The examination of facts is over. There has been the death of a man, probably an attempt at robbery, and finally, the complete destruction of an inhabited house. But under what conditions have all these criminal acts been accomplished?”

“I understand what you mean. You see in this affair something other than a criminal attempt. You suspect a plot of a special order, something very delicate, fastidious, dangerous even.”

“Yes, General, because in this case, we have not our hands quite free in the search of the causes, hindered as we are by diplomacy, by politics, and often even by such unexpected complicities that we are first obliged to beat about the bush, then to withdraw, and finally, give up all idea of proceeding with rigour. Shall I enumerate the affairs in which we have come to no certain issue for several years?”

“It is unnecessary, I am sufficiently well informed on the situation, and have a tolerably good idea of what you possess in the archives. How long have you been in the Ministry, Vallenot?”

“Ten years, occupying different positions, with intervals of service in the regiments. We have never ceased being exploited by other nations, with a skill, an audacity, and a perseverance, against which all our efforts have been in vain. The most important captures have always been effected by women. Accordingly, when the servant of General de Trémont spoke of this nocturnal lady-visitor, my suspicions were immediately aroused.”

“Explain yourself.”

“It is not the first time, General, that we have had to deal with this mysterious woman, who comes and passes away, leaving ruin and bloodshed in her train. Her manner of procedure is always the same: she fixes her mind on some one whom she knows to be in a position to give up to her some important secret or other, then she seduces him, until, in the end, he betrays it. Then, she casts him off, like useless _débris_. A creature to be dreaded, if I may judge by the results she has already obtained, and a powerful corruptress. No heart is proof against her alluring temptations. She artfully graduates the doses of her love-philtre; and the noblest minds, the most upright consciences, and the staunchest courage bend and capitulate at a sign from her. Do you remember the ill-fated Commandant Cominges, who blew out his brains, without anything being publicly known as to the reason? The woman had come along. Cominges had become her slave. A part of our mobilization had become known. Before killing himself, Cominges swore that the documents had been stolen from his dwelling, whilst he was absent with this woman. He had made the grave mistake of taking them from the office to work on them, and the still graver one of saying that they were in his possession. But the poor fellow had confidence in her. He was a man of honour, a gallant soldier. A pistol-shot settled the whole matter.”

“What was the woman’s name?”

“Madame Ferranti. She took most careful precautions in seeing Cominges, presumably on account of her family. One of our agents, however, was acquainted with her. Within six months he died by an accident. He was, one evening, travelling by rail from Auteuil. They found him dead under a tunnel. Doubtless he had leaned out too far from the carriage.”

“The deuce!”

“The following year the young Captain Fontenailles, a fine young fellow we were all fond of, was induced by a woman, whom his comrades called the ‘Ténébreuse,’ because no one of them ever saw her, to disclose certain confidences. Understanding the gravity of his conduct, he went to his superior and confessed everything. The latter succeeded in repairing the damage done by changing the key to the secret writings. Captain Fontenailles left for Tonkin, where he fell, fighting bravely, at the attack of Bae-Ninh. His fault was atoned for.”

“And the woman is always the same?”

“According to all these gentlemen. The Ferranti of Cominges was the Ténébreuse of Fontenailles. Then there was the Madame Gibson of the Aerostat affair, without speaking of several other cases only partially revealed. Always the same Ténébreuse, with the same method of procedure, corruption. In her train, ruin, tears, and blood.”

“How long has she been engaged in this work of intrigue?”

“Ten years, certainly, General; and under all these impersonations we have not been able to lay our hands on her. She is only known by her professional names.”

“What a deep-dyed scoundrel! We must try to cut short her career.”

“Nothing more difficult. Once the _coup_ accomplished, she disappears, as does an eel, gliding about in the mud, in which it remains hidden until the water again becomes clear. She arranges in such a way as to cut off all communications behind her; that is her method. For instance, in this new affair, we shall have to struggle in the dark. Search will be made for some time, but no clue will be found. The accomplices, as well as the principal instigator of the crime, will now have got to earth. By degrees the search will calm down, and something else will be on the tapis. At any rate, it is in this way that the majority of these cases end, unless—”

“Unless? Ah! You still hope something may happen?”

“Unless this time the wounded accomplice affords us a trace. Let us merely hold one end of the conducting wire, and I promise you, General, we will arrive at some result or other, if only to avenge our poor comrades.”

“And to prevent the repetition of similar accidents. For, after all, Vallenot, you will agree with me that it is rather too much for foreign Powers to become acquainted with our most secret affairs, as though they were matter of discussion on the public thoroughfares.”

“We are as well acquainted with foreign affairs, General, as they are with ours,” said the Colonel with less sullen mien. “To sum up, there are always two at the game; it has ever been so. Ay, the very time, in 1812, when Russia was procuring information as to the efficiency of the Emperor’s troops, Caulaincourt sent to Napoleon the engraved copper plates of the map of Russia. I quote this fact of days gone by without alluding to contemporary events. But, taking everything into consideration, General, our secrets are scarcely secrets at all. If, in war, reliance were placed on nothing beyond mysterious preparations—”

“Then we should have to start by abolishing the press,” muttered the Minister.

“And that is impossible!” said Vallenot. “Still, in this special case before us, we must undertake the task of clearing the moral atmosphere, and employ every means possible, if we would succeed.”

“That concerns the legal authorities now.”

“Officially, General; but we also, on our side, may investigate, in a quiet way, and I have no doubt—”

“The lesson to be learned is that our officers are becoming too gallant!”

“If you know any means, General,” said Vallenot, with a laugh, “of suppressing that, please tell me.”

“To think of this old General! Sixty years old, too! True, he did not appear more than fifty! In what position does he leave his daughter?”

“General de Trémont was a widower?”

“Yes, that is his excuse! But he has a daughter, still at school. She is eighteen years old, and without dowry. Luckily, Baradier is there.”

“You mean Baradier and Graff, the bankers?”

“Certainly. Baradier fought in the war of 1870; he is a true patriot, and his son, Marcel, a fine young fellow, just out of the Central School, has been working with General de Trémont. Marcel Baradier was principally occupied in investigating vegetable dyes, connected with the woollen weaving manufactures his father owns in the Aube. But the General opened his laboratory to him, and probably informed him of his own investigations. We may learn a great deal from this young man, I think.”

“Is the Baradier family in good circumstances?”

“Very wealthy; their fortune daily increases from industrial and from banking operations. It is Graff, Baradier’s step-brother, who deals more specially with finance, whilst Baradier manages the works. Both, however, are busily employed all day long, and the millions roll in, notwithstanding the rivalry of the firm of Lichtenbach, who is a mortal enemy of Baradier and Graff.”

“Business rivalry?”

“More than that. Personal hatred, dating from long back, and madly fomented. They say that Lichtenbach formerly wished to marry Mademoiselle Graff, and that he has never been able to swallow the insult Graff inflicted on him by refusing the proposal and bestowing his sister’s hand on his friend Baradier. Between these two families there is a whole series of differences and grievances, which makes them implacable enemies.”

“Still, General, you see no relation between this hostility and the death of General de Trémont?”

“Not at all. Lichtenbach is a fervent Catholic, in close touch with the Orleanist party, and, in my opinion, incapable of a dishonourable action. Besides, what could it matter to him whether Trémont lived or died?”

“Might not the General’s investigations have a serious interest for the Lichtenbach firm?”

“Doubtless! But we are well aware that Trémont has been specially occupied within the last few weeks with the manufacture of a war powder, the formidable effects of which we have seen in the Vanves explosion. True, the powder in question might become a source of great profit by its possible application to industry in modified proportions. In mines, for instance, or the blasting of quarries, it would certainly have replaced dynamite. There would have been a fortune in such an application of the powder, and this Trémont was well aware of. Now it is all vanished in smoke, and the General has taken his secret with him.”

“Unless he had communicated it to the son of M. Baradier.”

“Ah! that would indeed be strange!”

Three o’clock struck; the Minister arose, and took up his hat, gloves, and stick.

“You are going, General?”

“Yes, I am going to speak to Baradier on the whole matter. Madame Baradier was particularly interested in Mademoiselle de Trémont. I intend to pay a visit of condolence, in person, to this young lady. Her father and myself were great friends, we made campaigns in Mexico and on the Loire together, whilst, on the retreat from Mans, Trémont saved all our lives, by an admirable battery arrangement in the rear of the army, which cut short the pursuit of the Prussians. A fine soldier! One who deserved to fall on the field of battle! But Fate decides such things. Everybody does not die the death he wishes! Well, I will see you to-morrow, Vallenot. And if you hear of anything fresh, ring me up on the telephone.”

The Colonel accompanied his principal right to the large staircase, saluted, and returned to the office.