Chapter V

M. MAYEUR, examining magistrate, was seated in his study, near the fireplace, whilst his clerk, in listless mood, was engaged in questioning one of the agents, charged with investigating the Vanves affair. M. Mayeur was terribly bored; he was accustomed to carry through sensational affairs, without giving himself much trouble. The results were obtained with regularity, and as though by enchantment. Chance seemed to favour him, and he was reputed to be the luckiest judge on the bench. He had become accustomed to his good fortune, so, when the Vanves affair had been placed in his hands, he gave a smile of satisfaction and confidence, whilst his clerk, rubbing together his hands, with a look of pity for the culprits, said—

“We shall not need to spend much time over this matter!”

And yet matters were dragging along slowly. For a whole week, M. Mayeur had multiplied his investigations, sent out detective after detective, summoned witnesses, and fulfilled judicial commissions. Nothing came of it all. As he expressed it, he was moving about in a thick fog, from which he could not escape. Every evening the Government agent sent for him, and asked in satirical accents—

“Well, Mayeur, where are we now?”

And the magistrate, accustomed as he was to success, found himself obliged to reply—

“Ah, sir, we are still on the look-out, but we have found nothing yet.”

“Ah, ah! The deuce! A week already flown since the crime was committed. Your chances are diminishing. In proportion as time passes, false tracks appear, and the scent becomes fainter. I expected a better result from you! As a rule, your inspiration is clearer.”

“But there is nothing whatever to take hold of—not the slightest clue in the cursed affair!”

“What! Nothing? You have the corpse of the victim, the house in ruins, and the arm of the assassin! What are you doing with this latter? It ought to reveal something.”

“For the present it is in the frigorific apparatus,” growled M. Mayeur. “But neither corpse, nor house, nor arm gives me the slightest results. An evil genius seems to have passed over everything, carrying with it death and mutilation, and leaving nothing behind. It is enough to drive one mad!”

“Gently, Mayeur, keep a cool head, whatever happens. Persevere. You have been spoiled by success, but do not be discouraged; at any moment light may flash on the whole affair, and clear up everything.”

What caused M. Mayeur the greatest chagrin was that he was perfectly aware of the secret pleasure his want of success gave all his colleagues. A magistrate who had failed in so important an investigation; how could he expect to be nominated to the Assize Court, contrary to all normal promotion, if he had no longer his invariable good luck as his supreme justification? And, seated in his study, with his back to the light, looking vacantly into the fire, whilst his clerk ran the risk of dislocating his jaw with too much gaping, M. Mayeur, to satisfy his conscience, in mournful accents, questioned one of his agents, who had returned after a fruitless search.

“So there was no trace of the wounded man having passed through the cottage gardens, nor on the road to Paris?”

“No, sir. I have visited all the inns frequented by the quarrymen and gardeners of the district. No one could give me any definite information. One would imagine the murderer had been annihilated by the explosion itself.”

“Nothing of the kind! He was tracked to within three hundred paces from the Trémont property, and there a trail of blood, quite visible, which he had left all the way, suddenly disappeared. Did he, at that spot, find his accomplices waiting for him? Was he carried off? How and where? Nothing but darkness and obscurity!”

“Those who committed the crime are not professional thieves, although the General has been robbed of objects of value he carried on his person. Accordingly, they will not be found so easily. That is where the whole difficulty comes in.”

The magistrate gave a gesture of discontent, as though to signify that he knew all that. Stroking his beard, he said, with a sigh—

“You may go now. Send me Baudoin, the General’s servant, whom I have sent for afresh.”

The agent bowed, and left the room. A moment after the door opened again, and the valet’s resolute, intelligent face appeared. He already sympathized with the clerk, who gave him a friendly nod. The magistrate said, in sulky tones—

“Take a seat, M. Baudoin. I have disturbed you once more, with the object of explaining certain details which I find incomprehensible.”

“Do not apologize, sir; it is no disturbance if it is for anything concerning the General. Ah! I should only be too happy if I could give you any efficient help in your task!”

How could this servant throw light on a mystery which he, Mayeur, could not succeed in unravelling? Well, it could not be helped. The clerk seemed overjoyed at his master’s humiliation. He had been worrying him long enough with his lack of capacity. A striking failure would make him less self-confident, and he would be a little more indulgent towards his subordinate, whom he always appeared to look upon as an imbecile. Fume away, my good master! That will not help you much. And the clerk gave another mighty yawn.

“This woman you saw leave the carriage at the door of the house—was she tall or short?”

“Rather tall. But as she was wrapped in a large mantle I could not say precisely. By the way in which she descended from the carriage, I should imagine she was rather slender in build.”

“And her companion?”

“Oh! her companion; I saw him distinctly. He was a strong man, with a thick beard, light-complexioned, and brutal in appearance. He wore a grey felt hat and a dark suit. His accent was foreign, and—”

“Do you think it is the man your master called Hans?” asked the magistrate.

“It could be no one else. The General received no one, except his friends, Messieurs Baradier and Graff. The people who came on different occasions at night to the villa must have been regular villains for him not to permit me to stay with him.”

“What do you consider the reason of this precaution on the part of M. de Trémont?”

“The fact that he would see me trying to fathom the plots of this lady and her acolyte.”

“Then, in your opinion, it is a feminine intrigue which is at the root of the matter?”

“Apparently, yes.”

“And in reality?”

“It was their object to steal from the General his formulæ for the manufacture of his new powders.”

“Then the woman was only an intermediary?”

“An intermediary, no. They well knew the General would never consent to a bargain. A bait, yes. I did not see the woman, but every time she came she left the General’s study impregnated with a peculiar perfume of a very captivating odour. Oh! I should recognize it amongst a hundred! The woman’s voice, too, was caressing and seductive. Ah! my poor master! She knew what power she had over him. That woman was capable of anything—of driving mad a brave warm-hearted man like my master, of pouring over him the poison of her looks and smiles, and having him cruelly killed for some cause I know nothing of. As for the man Hans, he was only an agent—a well-informed man, for the General respected his opinions, and could speak with him of his discoveries, but not of the same social position as his accomplice. He was an ordinary, even a rough individual. The woman’s prestige must have been demanded to have had him received by M. de Trémont, who was so aristocratic.”

“And you could never find out, by means of the cook, who remained in the house, what took place when you had left the house?”

“No, she was of a very dull intellect. Outside of her work, there was very little to be obtained from her. That is the reason M. de Trémont had no cause to mistrust her. All the same, she saw the woman on several occasions, and told me that she was a miracle of beauty—young, light-complexioned, with eyes that would have damned a saint. She spoke with the General in a foreign language. Now the General could only speak English and Italian.”

“Was your master rich?”

“No, sir, he had a very modest fortune—about twenty thousand francs income. But his discoveries were very valuable. And it was these the woman was aiming at. In all probability, whilst she was with the General, her accomplice was examining the papers and searching among the products.”

“You never found any paper dealing with the relations of the General with this woman?”

“Never.”

“What became of the telegrams the General received telling him of the arrival of his visitors?”

“The General burnt them himself. I saw him do it. Ah! Every precaution was taken by my brave master not to compromise the fair Baroness. God knows how he loved her! He trembled like a student at the idea of seeing her!”

“And yet he never gave up to her the secret of his discoveries?”

Baudoin’s face became serious.

“Ah! He was reserving his secret for France. I heard him say so more than once, after an experiment which satisfied him: ‘Baudoin, my good fellow, when our artillery has this powder, we shall no longer be afraid of any one.’ Certainly the General was passionately fond of this woman. But he loved his country far more, and between the two, he did not hesitate. Besides, that was certainly the cause of his death. They could not succeed in taking his secret by fair means, so they attempted to obtain possession of it by force.”

The clerk had ceased yawning; he was listening to Baudoin with sympathetic interest all the while he was writing his deposition. He wrote down the main outlines only, for it was the third time M. Mayeur was having the same thing repeated to him, as though he hoped to discover among expressions already heard, some special signification which would permit him to unravel the truth. And it was always this love intrigue, cloaking the criminal attempt, the bearing of which he could not succeed in gauging. Was it a matter that concerned international politics or was it mere spying? Or simply a bold attempt to seize a commercial product of considerable value? Still, before whatever hypothesis he stopped, there was obscurity with regard to cause, ignorance concerning details, an impenetrable mystery which maddened him, and which seemed as though it would compromise his career. Flinging himself back in his chair, he said—

“Yes, the criminals have taken great precautions. The General is dead, the servant, too, is dead, and you had been sent away. The wounded man has disappeared, as though buried in the bowels of the earth. And the unknown woman is mocking at our researches.”

Baudoin shook his head.

“So long as attempts are made to find her, she will hide, and nothing will be discovered. If the matter concerned me, I know what I should do.”

M. Mayeur, in his distress, flashed at the valet a look of curiosity. When he, the examining magistrate, so famous for a resourceful imagination, no longer knew what expedient to try, a simple witness pretended to understand the position, and point out the means to be followed. He was on the point of crushing him with official disdain, by telling him to trouble with what concerned him, when he thought that, after all, advice was not to be neglected, and he might despise it afterwards, if necessary. He accordingly asked, in mocking tones, to safeguard his dignity—

“Then, what would you do, M. Baudoin?”

“Please pardon me, sir, if what I say is foolish, but if the affair were in my hand, instead of sending out in every direction, seeking information everywhere, I would not stir a step. I should let it be known that I had given up the pursuit, and was engaged in something else. You must know what takes place in a barn, where there are mice. There is a general rush to the holes as soon as the sound of entering feet are heard. If you remain quiet, after a few moments the mice are seen to be risking out again, and playing about the floor as before. Well, I believe it would be the same in the present case. I beg pardon, if I interfere in the matter, but I, too, am bent on finding the rascals who killed my master, and if I can contribute towards their capture it will be the brightest day of my life.”

M. Mayeur no longer cast a disdainful glance at the General’s valet. He smiled at him in most amiable mood. For, in a flash he had furnished him with the means of taking advantage of the difficulty in this cursed affair. When the Government agent should say to him, that very evening—“Well, my dear Mayeur, where have you got to now? Nothing yet?” instead of replying in a tone of vexation, “Nothing at all,” thus confessing his inability to discover, and even the absence of grounds on which to found his researches, he would be able to reply: “This matter has been badly begun, I undertake to recommence everything _ab ovo_. We have to deal with rogues who are exceedingly cunning. I intend to change my plans entirely.” This time he would no longer appear incapable, as though he were entrusted with a task too difficult for his capacity. He would secure an honourable retreat, and gain time as well.

Resuming his stiff and formal gravity, he said—

“There will be plenty of time to act as you suggest. But I have still at my disposal many other means of throwing light on the subject.”

His clerk, pen in mouth, could not help laughing outright. When Mayeur was at bay, without a single idea in his head, befooled by the culprits when he had not the slightest idea where to look for them, he still pretended to “throw light on the subject.” Light on the subject! It was enough to make any one laugh! He gave Baudoin a wink, and noisily rattled his desk.

M. Mayeur, as though he guessed the secret hostility of his subordinate, said to him—

“Just go and see if Colonel Vallenot has come from the Ministry.”

The clerk stretched himself; showed Baudoin his cigarette-case, with a grimace which signified, “I’m just going to smoke one,” and left the room. M. Mayeur followed him, bolted the door, and returning to Baudoin, said—

“I would rather we were alone in discussing the subject I am engaged on. The slightest indiscretion in so delicate a matter might ruin everything. Just now you gave me a piece of advice which I might follow to advantage. Still, you did not tell me everything. You are better informed than you have yet shown. Perhaps they are only suspicions, still, I am sure you are quite determined to help justice in an energetic pursuit of your master’s murderers. Why have you not perfect confidence in me? We have the same object in view. Come, M. Baudoin, be frank and open. You imagine you have discovered some means of laying hands on the culprits?”

Baudoin raised his head, and looking fixedly at the magistrate, saw that he was in passionate earnest. He thought that he had really an ally in him, and that professional secrecy guaranteed his discretion, and accordingly made up his mind to speak.

“Well! yes, I have a means by which we shall lay our hands on the culprits.”

“What is it?”

“First of all, swear that what I am about to say shall not be repeated.”

“But—,” protested the judge.

“Take it or leave it,” declared Baudoin, bluntly. “I am risking my life and that of others as well. I shall say nothing, unless you give me your word of honour not to repeat to a living soul what I am going to entrust to you.”

“Not even to my chief?”

“Not a word to any one! Do you give me your promise?”

“Very well! I promise.”

“Well, then! as I told you before, in matters concerning scientific research, the General had confidence in no one except a young man whom he loved as though he were his own child, M. Baradier’s son. I have reason to believe that M. Marcel knows M. de Trémont’s formulæ. If, therefore, the villains we are on the look-out for have the slightest suspicion that they might in this direction try the _coup_ which failed with the General, as soon as they are reassured as to the result of the present search, they will set to work afresh. It is there my task will begin. I am entering the service of M. Marcel, and I shall not leave him a single moment. Besides, I have a friend, who is accustomed to such work. I am taking him with me. The two of us are organizing a continual surveillance. If the plot recommences, we let it develop, and intervene at the critical moment. That is my plan. That is why I made bold, a few minutes ago, to advise you to give up the game, to all appearance. With villains like those with whom we have to deal, there may be a great deal of trouble. Now, you may do all that is necessary to give me a hand, and as soon as developments have come to a head, I will immediately lay the matter in your hands.”

The examining magistrate reflected for a moment, then said—

“All this is outside of legal precedent, but the situation is an exceptional one. Above everything, we must succeed! If we have to deal with determined criminals, as I imagine is the case, this is not their first attempt, and perhaps we shall capture a whole gang. Put into performance, therefore, the plan you have indicated, and, at the slightest difficulty, come to me, and I will summon all the forces of the law to your aid. You need simply show me the beginning of the thread, and I will go right to the end.”

“Good; you shall hear from me at the right time. Not another word, for here is your clerk returning.”

The clerk knocked at the closed door, and the magistrate opened it. Colonel Vallenot stood in the passage, and M. Mayeur addressed him—

“Come in, Colonel, take a seat.”

Turning towards Baudoin, he said—

“You may now retire, M. Baudoin; I don’t think I shall need you for some time to come. All the same, if you leave Paris, give M. Baradier your address, so that the summons I shall address to you may reach you in good time.”

Baudoin bowed to the magistrate, saluted the Colonel in military fashion, and left the room. When he was gone M. Mayeur returned to Vallenot, with a smile on his face; he could not allow his discouragement to appear in public.

“The Minister of War delivered a very solid speech last night in the House.”

“Yes; they try to mystify him, but he is able to defend himself. He knows what he is talking about, and a direct attack always succeeds with Parliamentarians.”

“_Imperatoria brevitas_,” sneered the magistrate.

After a short pause he asked in honeyed tones—

“Have your researches come to a point yet?”

The Colonel replied bluntly—

“Not at all; they are no further advanced than yours.”

M. Mayeur smiled faintly.

“Ah, ah! Then we make no progress?”

“If I were not afraid of offending you I should say that we were going backwards.”

“That appears to be exactly as the matter stands,” said Mayeur, with a look of intelligence.

“Ah! Have you obtained some clue at last?” asked Vallenot, perplexed.

“I am not in a position to explain, but have patience; a surprise is in store for you.”

“How delighted the chief will be! The whole affair has put him in such a nervous condition that the whole staff suffers in consequence. He is never out of a temper; one does not know how to manage him.”

“To return to our investigations abroad, what result have they given?”

“We have obtained the certainty that, if an attempt has been made to obtain possession of the formulæ of General de Trémont, the Triple Alliance has had nothing to do with it. Ever since the last espionage affair, the different Governments have given orders to their agents to observe the strictest reserve. If there really has been a plot it can only have been made by the English. You are well aware that their artillery is quite out of date, and they are trying to recover ground.”

“So there are nothing but suppositions; no proofs?”

“None whatever. In Paris, or, at any rate, in France, there are half a dozen women well known for their international intrigues, and who might have been suspected of having acted the _rôle_ of the Baroness with the poor General de Trémont. Those known to have been in France have been strictly watched. Besides, the majority form part of our counter-espionage, and could have informed us, whilst still in the pay of another nation. So far as Hans is concerned, a police report from Lausanne announces the arrival in Geneva of a wounded man, whose arm has been amputated. He is from Baden, and is named Fichter. The accident took place in a wire mill in the neighbourhood of Besançon. Accordingly, he could not be at the same time in the Jura and at Vanves. All the same, the description of him corresponds exactly with that given by Baudoin. If this Fichter is the man we are seeking, the proprietor of the wire mill must have given accommodation certificates, or a substitution must have taken place on the way between the two men. All this is very improbable. So, you see, the matter is involved in greater obscurity than ever.”

“Yes, yes,” hummed the magistrate, who appeared so absent-minded that the Colonel looked at him in amazement.

“You take all this very calmly!” said Vallenot.

“What is the use of getting excited? It never serves any useful purpose.”

“Then you have not lost all hope?”

“Why should I?”

“The deuce!”

“Ah! my friend, success often comes at the very time you think everything is lost.”

“You magistrates are very lucky; it is not so in the Army. When you expect Grouchy it is always Blucher who comes!”

“Well, we shall see.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Let the whole affair slide for some time. It is too premature to do anything yet.”

“In other words, you are shelving it?”

“Yes, I am shelving it provisionally.”

“Then you abandon the whole affair?”

The magistrate looked gravely at Vallenot and, to the profound amazement of his clerk, said humbly—

“I do, if no fresh incident happens.”

“Have I to inform the Minister of this?”

“Please do so. Tell him I am sorry, and wish I could have done better. That has been impossible. Still all is not lost, in my opinion. We shall see at a later date.”

The Colonel stood there rather disconcerted by this unexpected solution, and as he took his leave he shook his head, saying—

“A pleasant message you send me with. I shall be received like a dog in a game of skittles.”

“Nonsense! You are the favourite. I am off to the Government agent. He will not grumble; on the contrary, he will poke fun at me. Still no matter. He laughs best who laughs last!”

Shaking the Colonel by the hand, he conducted him to the passage, and returned to his office. He signed several sheets of paper handed to him by his clerk. The latter, devoured by curiosity, said—

“Then the matter is really finished, sir! Are you giving it up?”

“One cannot do what is impossible,” said Mayeur, negligently. “A house cannot be built without scaffolding. Here we have no grounds to work upon. I am not strong enough to invent what I am ignorant of. It is already difficult enough to obtain benefit from certain proof.”

A look of pity came over the clerk’s countenance. So long as the magistrate had manifested a tranquil assurance of success he had, in his conscience, violently criticized him. Now that his master showed himself modest and simple he disdained him. Nothing but a poor fellow, after all, who was very lucky when things went well, but gave up the struggle at the very first difficulties.

“Just put away that brief into my case. I am going to the Public Prosecutor’s office,” said the magistrate. “Afterwards you may go; it is five o’clock. I will see you to-morrow morning.”

Colonel Vallenot, meanwhile, was rolling away in a cab in the direction of the Ministry. On entering his chief’s ante-chamber he came across Baudoin, who was leaving the Minister’s cabinet. Stopping him, he said—

“You have just seen the General?”

“Yes, Colonel.”

“Is he in a good temper?”

“Yes, Colonel. You had better hurry, sir, if you wish to find him in.”

“What! He is going out?”

“I heard him say that he was going to the Chamber.”

“You had something to ask him, Baudoin?”

“No, Colonel. I wished simply to speak to him of the affair of General Trémont.”

“In what respect?”

“The magistrate makes no progress, and seems to me as though about to abandon the matter altogether.”

“You told this to the Minister?”

“Yes, not five minutes ago.”

“And how did he receive the communication?”

“He whistled softly; then said aloud, ‘After all, perhaps it is better so.’”

Colonel Vallenot looked at Baudoin, as though to make sure he was not making fun of him. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as though he did not understand, and declared, in vexed tones—

“Good! Good! Well, we will say no more about it.”

With a friendly gesture to the former soldier, he said—

“Good night, Baudoin. If you need anything send for me. We were all very fond of M. de Trémont.”

And he passed along, muttering to himself—

“Everybody I meet seems to have lost his head.”

Baudoin descended the large staircase. He went out into the street, after shaking hands with the concierge, and made his way towards the small café, where, in condescending fashion, Laforêt watched the billiard players, during the absinthe hour, eagerly playing pools. He was seated in his usual place, smoking his pipe, and speaking to a neighbour, a retired business man, who was telling him his domestic worries.

“Yes, sir; a woman who is always out of the house, and has never enough money. The vaults of the Bank would not suffice for her. And whenever I remonstrate with her she rouses the whole house with her cries. We cannot keep servants, for she will not pay them, and when she is not pleased, then there are blows! I have already been several times before the Justice of the Peace on her account. The life she leads me is a regular inferno!”

“Divorce her,” said Laforêt, curtly.

“But the greater part of our common stock is hers!”

“Then put up with her!”

“I can do it no longer.”

“Well, treat her as she treats her servants.”

“Ah! No! The deuce! She would pay me back in the same coin!”

Baudoin’s arrival interrupted the consultation. The unhappy tradesman arose, and said—

“The only place where I have a little quiet is here.”

“Well, that is something. Good-bye, sir. Consider me at your service if I can be of any use to you.”

Baudoin had taken a seat. Laforêt leaned over in his direction.

“Well, anything fresh?”

“Yes. I want you. But we had better leave here.”

The agent arose, took his stick, and left the café, accompanied by Baudoin.

“Where shall we go?”

“Where we shall be neither disturbed nor overheard.”

“Then come along with me.”

They proceeded along the banks of the Seine, and, on reaching a quay, Laforêt led the way down a flight of stone stairs leading to the embankment. Under the shade of the elms, which twisted their knotty boughs above the slimy, swift-flowing river, they sat down. On the opposite bank the gardens of the Tuileries exposed to view their lovely verdure. Lighters were unloading sand fifty yards on the left. Ferry-boats sped swiftly along, crowded with passengers, and the distant rolling of carriages formed a rumbling accompaniment to their words.

“Here we are certain that whatever we say will be heard by none other than the birds or the fishes,” said Laforêt. “This is the spot I recommend to you whenever you have any secrets to communicate to any one. There is not even a single fisherman about. Now then, what have you to tell?”

“Well, after three weeks’ researches, the examining magistrate is obliged to confess that he has not made the slightest progress. Clearly, if left to himself, he will never effect anything. Besides, the cleverest of them would have been no more fortunate. There is nothing to seize hold of. The culprits have plunged, and everything is quiet again. The upshot of the matter is that our magistrate is about to stop all investigations, and now I am free to go where I like, as I shall no longer have to spend all the day walking about the corridors of the Law Courts. Accordingly, I am leaving Paris.”

“Ah! Where are you going?”

“To stay with the son of my master, M. Baradier, who is at the works near Troyes, in Champagne. The district is called Ars, noted for alkaline springs and thermal waters, visited every summer by invalids.”

“Are you going to your master with the object of forgetting your troubles?”

“No! Rather to keep watch over him. Since I have been in the house I have spoken with his father, and learnt several things. M. Baradier is informed that his son has received communications from the General de Trémont, and now the famous formulæ can only be obtained from Marcel. M. Baradier, I believe, would give a large sum if his son had never entered the General’s laboratory. But that is a fact which cannot be undone. The only important thing now is to defend the young man. This trust has been confided to me. M. Baradier said to me: ‘Baudoin, Marcel is my only son, and although he is not so steady as he might be, I am all the same very fond of him. I do not want him to come to any harm. As soon as you are free go down to Ars, and do not leave him.’”

“But why does this young man, who is so rich, and of whom his family is so fond, shut himself up in a quiet provincial town? Why does he not stay in Paris?”

“For several reasons. The best one is that his father considers it more prudent for him to be at Ars than in Paris. Surveillance is more easy in the country. Besides, M. Marcel, from what I have learned, has been living rather too fast, and his father has cut off his supplies; but for his uncle Graff, the young heir would have nothing whatever. Just now he is desperately bent on finding a chemical process of wool-dyeing, and, though he is rather a hare-brained fellow, as the General called him, he has an extraordinary aptitude for scientific research, so that his work will be sufficient to keep him away from all kinds of distractions.”

“He is rather a strange character.”

“The finest young man you would meet anywhere. Generous and lively in disposition, not proud in the least. Ah! he will please you, I know, when you meet him.”

“Then I am to make his acquaintance?”

“Certainly.”

“In what way?”

“Listen. As soon as I learned that I could leave Paris I rushed off to the Minister to explain what I wanted to do, and asked him, if he wished the affair to succeed, to give me permission that you should come down to Ars whenever I need you.”

“I must have permission first.”

“You have only to see Colonel Vallenot, who has received instructions, and he will give you your papers.”

“Good. And what shall I have to do afterwards?”

“According to circumstances. It is my firm conviction that the catastrophe of which my poor master has been the victim, is nothing but the beginning of a drama. Many important events will take place, and we must arrange so as to prevent them from being harmful to the intended victims. Serious interests are at stake. We shall probably have to deal with matters that are anything but attractive. But then, afterwards, everything will be cleared up. We must succeed. By the way, you must know how to disguise yourself.”

Laforêt smiled.

“Do not be uneasy on that score. I will be there at the rendezvous you appoint; but I will not vouch for your recognizing me when you see me.”

“That is all right, then. Unfortunately, I am not to be relied upon for playing a double _rôle_. But I can well maintain my own, which will be that of a watch-dog.”

“Then everything is settled?”

“So it seems. When I have a communication to make I will send my letter to the Ministry.”

“Very good. Now let us get back.”

Mounting the stone staircase, they reached the quay, and took leave of one another.

Laforêt made his way towards the Rue Saint Dominique; Baudoin crossed the Pont de la Concorde, and returned to the Rue de Provènce by the Rue de Richelieu and the boulevards. Messieurs Baradier and Graff were in their office, along with the cashier of the firm, who was making inquiries concerning the collection of debts. The cashier was saying—

“Do you know, gentlemen, that the ‘Commercial Explosives’ Company,’ of which M. Lichtenbach is chairman, is on its last legs? The shares have gone down considerably. It seems that there is an American company competing with them.”

“Yes, so I have heard,” said Graff. “The Americans have found a product of very simple composition, costing fifty per cent. less than dynamite. They have already taken very large orders for Australia and South Africa. That is the reason of the fall of the Lichtenbach Company.”

“Do not be uneasy, Bernard,” said Baradier to his cashier. “It will not affect Lichtenbach, but his shareholders. You have no more letters to be signed?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then, you may go now. Good night.”

“Good night, gentlemen.”

Baradier rose from his seat, and stood with his back to the fire.

“You see,” he said to his brother-in-law, “here we have a clear proof that Trémont has been killed as much to rob him of his commercial as of his military secret. Do you now understand how Lichtenbach would be interested in being in possession of the formulæ of an explosive which would be less costly than the American product, the discovery of which is ruining the French company, and would be as effective though a hundred times less in volume? For this is the real value of the discovery made by Trémont, and which Marcel has explained to me. Accordingly, if Lichtenbach, by some means or other, came into possession of the unknown formulæ, he would only have to take out a patent, and secretly buy back all the shares of the company which have now fallen so low. The day after he had swept everything before him he would sell to the company all property in the new explosive, and make millions at a single stroke, without speaking of the future success of the product.”

“Yes, it would be a fine _coup_ worthy of him. He might give up to his confederates the profits from the war powder, for they would be little compared with those of the commercial product. Governments are not in the habit of remunerating philanthropists who afford them the means of marching triumphantly forward to a universal massacre.”

“Oh, don’t make any mistake. Marcel affirms that this discovery made by Trémont is followed by the most frightful results. It is a kind of paste, which, according to the way in which it is prepared, causes a formidable detonation or else burns, without the slightest noise, even when in water.”

“Greek fire?”

“Something like it. Or, rather, like an up-to-date cannon compared with one of the fourteenth century. Torpedoes loaded with this paste, and lit by means of a well-graduated mechanism, might at will envelop a ship in flames at a single moment.”

“That would mean the suppression of all naval supremacy!”

“Ah! You understand. Now, do you think there exists any real security for the possessor of such a secret? A State would have to be governed by angels if it did not use its utmost endeavours to procure this monstrous power of annihilating all its enemies and subduing all its rivals. This is why Trémont was put to death, and why I have lost my sleep at the thought that my son has openly worked with him and may be suspected of having possession of this mysterious agent of destruction and greatness.”

“Send him away from France, on a cruise.”

“He would be in much greater danger away from France. The place where he runs least risk is here among his friends. Ah! How glad I should be were he rid of this heavy burden! I have begged him to hand over the General’s formulæ to the Minister. It would have been announced in all the journals that Marcel Baradier had handed over to the Technical Committee of Explosives all notes relating to the experiments of General de Trémont. After that he would have been free, and no further risk would have been run. Do you know what reply he gave me?”

“No; tell me.”

“He said to me, with a smile, and in tones of calm assurance: ‘My dear father, the General’s powder is still lacking in one slight detail. I know what he intended to do, for he explained everything to me. Well, then, I will continue his experiments, and when everything is complete I will hand over the formulæ to the State, according to his clearly-expressed will, and form a company with the commerce explosive to enrich the General’s daughter.’”

“Does Marcel know what a risk he is running?” asked Graff.

“I became hoarse in telling him. But he is a Lorraine; he’s as obstinate as a mule. To all my arguments he offered an imperturbable resistance. ‘I alone,’ he said, ‘can manage the affair successfully. If I give the General’s notes to the Technical Committee, one of those sharp fellows on the Board will boast that he has made the discovery himself, and obtain all the credit for it. Unless he spoil the invention by absurd additions, which is at bottom a very likely thing. As for the commercial product, if I open my mouth before taking all necessary precautions, it will be stolen in an instant, and the General’s daughter will lose her fortune. For these reasons, and others, I do not intend to abandon the work I have begun.’

“‘But you are risking your life?’

“‘Is it so very precious? You spend your time in telling me I am a rascal, that I am ruining you, and shall bring your name into dishonour. Very good! You will be well rid of a guilty and unworthy son!’”

Graff struck his hands against one another.

“You see! That is the result of your harshness towards the poor child. How can you expect him to listen to you?”

“Ah! Leave me alone!” exclaimed Baradier, pale with anguish, “I am sufficiently worried with all this! You do not intend to make me responsible for it, into the bargain! I love Marcel as well as you do! The only difference is that I am not always fawning on him and giving him money! We should have been in a fine state had you been the only one to set him an example! All you did was to encourage his evil inclinations! If he has done wrong, it is all your fault!”

“Yes! I, who have set an example to him, and practised what I preached!” exclaimed Graff. “I being his evil genius, as everybody knows. Really, Baradier, I wonder if you have gone mad!”

Baradier walked excitedly about the room, then, returning to his brother-in-law, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said in trembling tones—

“You are right! I believe I am losing my senses. Pardon me, this anxiety has completely overwhelmed me. We have only Marcel, Graff. Think of what would become of us, if destiny willed it that—”

Graff rose quickly from his seat.

“Not another word! It is unlucky to predict disaster. We must not even admit that there is a disaster at all. Still, I cannot blame Marcel for doing what he considers his duty. Did he act otherwise, he would be neither a Baradier nor a Graff. He is acting very courageously. All the same we must keep watch over him, and defend him against his own folly.”

At that moment, a knock was heard at the study door. Baradier went to open it, and seeing Baudoin on the threshold, said—

“Ah! You have come at the right moment. First of all, tell us how things are going at the courts.”

“Everything is at a standstill, sir. The examining magistrate can find nothing. The culprits have left a vacuum behind them.”

“Well?”

“Well, M. Mayeur, in despair, unable to arrest the criminals, is simply stopping all investigations, and shelving the affair.”

“That’s a fine idea! Is it his own?”

“No, sir.”

“What fool could have suggested such a course?”

“I did.”

“I congratulate you. Now, the rascals who have killed your master, believing themselves sure of impunity, will recommence—”

“I am relying on their doing so!”

“But! Marcel? My son! What is to become of him? Have you even thought of such a thing?”

“I have thought of nothing else. Here I am free. If you will allow me, I will leave Paris this very night, and be at Ars about midnight. The news of the affair being abandoned will not appear in the journals for a couple of days. I shall have organized my surveillance by that time. I promise you nothing shall happen to M. Marcel, or, at any rate, they will have to begin with me.”

“Very reassuring!” growled Baradier. “But what can one do with such a madman as my son? He is in danger everywhere. Ah, the cursed powder! What need had Trémont to tell him of his inventions? If this explosive is as dangerous to those against whom it is used as it is to its inventors, there will be fine butcheries the next war.”

Baudoin philosophically paid no heed to these paternal recriminations.

He understood how correct they were, but could he do more than devote himself to the defence of him who might at any time, be so gravely threatened? When M. Baradier finally sat down, in consternation, Graff decided to speak in his turn.

“After all,” he said, “as the wine is drawn, we must drink it. The thing to guard against is not to poison one’s self with it. Forewarned is forearmed. The situation is not the same as it was for the General. With a little prudence it will be easy to make everything turn out right. Patience brings all things about.”

“Have you finished with your proverbs, which have no meaning whatever?” exclaimed Baradier, exasperated by his brother-in-law’s optimism. “Without so much palaver, all that is needed is to give Baudoin permission to summon the police in case he sees anything suspicious in Marcel’s surroundings. For my part, I have more confidence in armed might than in providence.”

“If you are interrupting me to say such nonsense,” replied Graff, “you might have held your peace. Let Marcel work on. The sooner he has finished the sooner he will be out of danger. Until that time, Baudoin, I entrust him to your care.”

“Do not be uneasy, Monsieur Graff. I will answer for him with my life. Besides, I am not trusting in myself alone. I am going to send for a companion, who in himself is worth a score of men. I need say no more. Trust to me.”

“Yes, my brave fellow, I will trust to you,” said Baradier.

“Very good,” said Baudoin, rubbing his hands. “Have you any message to send to M. Marcel?”

“Tell him to be very careful; give him our best love, and ask him to think of us at times.”

“By-the-bye, have you any money for the journey?”

“I have all I need, sir, thank you. Your servant, sir. _Au revoir_!”

Bowing, he left the room. Father and uncle remained behind, silent and grave, plunged in reverie. After a time Graff stood up and said—

“Nothing ill will happen. Of that I am sure. I feel it. You know I am never mistaken. In business, every time we have had a loss I have always had a very clear intuition of it beforehand. Be assured, Baradier, we shall come out of it without loss or damage.”

The anxious father replied—

“Heaven grant you may be right! But so long as there is a woman in it I cannot be at rest concerning Marcel. Ah! if it were only you or I, there would be no danger. But this young madman!”

“The oldest are not always the wisest. Look at Trémont.”

“Well, well. It is all in God’s hands!”

Holding out his hand to his brother-in-law—

“We will have no more quarrels; they serve no useful purpose, and only cause us pain!”

“Ah! Speak to me as harshly as you like!” exclaimed Graff, greatly moved. “It does not hurt me, and it relieves you! But be careful to say nothing to your wife. There is no occasion that she should worry herself about the matter.”

They left the office, and, as they crossed the court they saw Baudoin, portmanteau in hand, starting off, with alert and happy step, for the station.