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CHAPTER X
The events of the Versailles road left Grace Duvall in a high state of good humor. The plan she had suggested had been a success--at least so far as her own part in it was concerned. How Monsieur Lefevre had fared, she did not yet know. She looked down at the brown paper package she held in her hand, and ordered Valentin to drive to the Prefecture.
The day had been an eventful one. Immediately after breakfast Grace had gone to Mr. Stapleton's house and had a long interview with Mrs.
Stapleton. That lady, apparently quite prostrated from worry and alarm over the fate of her son, received her in her boudoir, where she lay, a charming picture, upon a divan.
Grace had no more than entered the room, when she detected the odor of cigarette smoke, faint but unmistakable. She glanced at the table which stood beside the divan upon which Mrs. Stapleton lay. On it, a tiny porcelain ash receiver contained a fluffy ma.s.s of gray-white ashes, and the half smoked remains of a cigarette. The tip, partly covered by the ashes, was of gold.
The girl engaged her hostess in a long conversation, quieting her fears, which seemed real enough, and predicting the early recovery of her boy.
It was quite evident that Mrs. Stapleton was terribly nervous. No doubt this accounted for the cigarettes. Although Grace did not use them herself, she knew how their quieting effect on the nerves made them almost necessities, at times, to their devotees.
Presently she observed that Mrs. Stapleton held within her left hand, concealed beneath the folds of her kimono, a small pasteboard box, a box of cigarettes. Grace determined upon a bold move.
"May I have one of your cigarettes, Mrs. Stapleton?" she asked, in her sweetest manner. "I've forgotten to bring any with me--and--you know how it is."
Mrs. Stapleton's features relaxed into something approaching a smile.
She had been lying there wondering whether she dared offer one to Grace, and thus be able to sooth her own overstrained nerves. She brought forth the box and extended it toward her visitor. Grace took one of the tiny cylinders and lit it. _It was of the same make as the one she had secured in Alphonse Valentin's room!_
She took her departure a little later, wondering greatly. The whole affair had begun to take on an air of baffling contradiction.
She spent the rest of the morning, and most of the afternoon, searching the houses near the point on the road to Versailles indicated by Valentin. With her were three men from the Prefect's office--silent, able men, in plain clothes, who pretended to be keepers from the _Jardin des Plantes_, in search of a dangerous cobra, which was supposed to have escaped from its cage the night before.
The terrified householders threw open their doors with una.s.sumed alacrity. The suggestion of a deadly reptile lurking in their gardens was a veritable open sesame. Yet no traces of the missing boy were found, and, more remarkable still, Grace was unable to identify any of the many gardens as the one in which she had seen the child playing with the spaniel. This disappointed her greatly. She knew well that, if Valentin was telling the truth, the garden was here; yet, although they visited every house within a quarter of a mile, they were unable to locate it. She remembered now that in her agitation, her eager examination of the child, she had not fixed upon her mind any salient point in the garden itself. All that she remembered was a bit of gra.s.s, a gravel walk, and the child playing with the dog. A dozen of the little enclosures presented similar features. She returned to the prefecture, baffled.
"The fellow is undoubtedly lying," had been Monsieur Lefevre's comment.
"He is trying to throw you off the track, in order to protect the nurse, and possibly Mrs. Stapleton as well. I should not be surprised to find that the boy's mother is the guilty person."
Grace did not agree with him; so she said nothing. In spite of the fact that Mrs. Stapleton used cigarettes similar to those which seemed in some queer way to be at the bottom of the mystery, she had an intuitive feeling that the grief which the banker's wife showed was entirely real.
At half past seven, Grace left the prefecture in a high-powered car, furnished by Monsieur Lefevre. Alphonse Valentin was at the wheel. In her hand she held a pocket electric searchlight, across the front of which had been affixed a circular bit of blue gla.s.s.
At ten minutes to eight she arrived at Versailles. She at once ordered Valentin to turn and drive back toward Paris at moderate speed. She did not take him into her confidence regarding what she proposed to do, but kept a keen watch for the car containing Mr. Stapleton.
Her plan had worked. Mr. Stapleton, seeing her signal, had tossed her the package of money--she only hoped that the other part of her plan had been carried out with equal success.
The other part of the plan had been this: Monsieur Lefevre, who in build and general appearance was not unlike Mr. Stapleton, was to follow the latter's car in a machine of the same make and general appearance. He was to be driven by a chauffeur made up to resemble Francois sufficiently to be mistaken for him in the dim light of early evening.
He himself was to make such alterations in his appearance and dress as would enable him to pa.s.s, under a cursory examination, for Stapleton. In the bottom of the car two armed men lay concealed.
When the car containing Mr. Stapleton turned back toward Paris, after having unwittingly delivered the money to Grace, the Prefect would continue on toward Versailles. He would know that the car containing the kidnappers was still ahead of him; since, had it not been, it, instead of Grace's car, would have signaled Mr. Stapleton.
Grace had started out from Versailles especially early, convinced that the kidnappers would not leave there until eight, at least. In this a.s.sumption she was correct. The car containing the kidnappers was, at that moment, creeping toward Paris some two miles in her rear, looking everywhere for Mr. Stapleton.
The Prefect pursued his way toward Versailles in anxious expectancy.
Each moment he thought to see the blue signal flash from the various cars which pa.s.sed him. When it came, his men were to spring up, and at once bring the other car to a standstill by firing their guns, heavily charged with buckshot, at its wheels. A punctured tire, and the thing was done. His men, a.s.sisted by the chauffeur, would then overpower the occupants of the other car before they could realize what had happened.
In it they hoped to find the child.
The plan was well conceived; but unfortunately it did not work.
Whatever the reason, none of the cars which pa.s.sed the Prefect on his way to Versailles displayed the telltale blue light. All seemed but peaceable automobilists, intent on reaching Paris and its restaurants as quickly as possible. Had his disguise been penetrated? He could not believe it. He returned to the Prefecture in great disgust, wondering in what way matters had gone wrong.
Grace was waiting for him, an eager smile on her face. "Here is the money," she said, placing the package on his desk. "Did you get the men?"
"No." The Prefect flung himself into a chair. "They did not signal."
"But why, I wonder?" The failure of her plan was extremely annoying.
"I can think of but one reason. There must have been some way in which these fellows knew the Stapleton car when they approached it--some signal, perhaps, that I was unable to give."
"But no such signal was mentioned in the instructions I brought to Mr.
Stapleton. He gave none, as we approached him."
"Did you observe anything peculiar about the appearance of his car, anything that might have served as a clue to enable these fellows to recognize it, even in the dark, with certainty?"
Grace thought a moment, then her face fell. "There was one thing that I noticed as Mr. Stapleton's car came up to us; but I am afraid I failed to realize its significance at the time."
"What was it?"
"The electric headlight on the side nearest to me was working very badly. In fact, it seemed to be almost out. The other was burning brilliantly."
The Prefect sprang to his feet. "Sacre!" he exclaimed. "Of course. The thing is as plain as the nose on your face!"
"But who--"
"Francois! The fellow is in this thing up to his neck. _He_ claims to have been asleep when the boy was stolen. _He_ drives the car which brings you back, after your abduction. _He_, disguised, steals the box of cigarettes. _He_ fixes the lights so that the kidnappers are advised, not only beyond any doubt that they are signaling the right car, but that all is safe--that Monsieur Stapleton has no detectives or members of the police hidden in his tonneau. The thing is perfectly clear.
Believe me, my child, had there been anyone in that car with Mr.
Stapleton, those lights would have both been burning with equal brightness, as mine were. They did not give me the signal, when they pa.s.sed me, because the lights failed to tell them that all was well."
Grace looked up quickly. "Then, if that is true, Francois knew that Mr.
Stapleton had thrown the money into the wrong car."
"Undoubtedly, and by this time, no doubt, his confederates know it as well. Naturally the child has not been delivered. We are just where we were before."
"You will arrest Francois at once, I suppose."
"No. It will be useless. By leaving him free, we may learn something. By locking him up, with no tangible evidence against him, we accomplish nothing at all."
"Then what do you advise?"
"You will return the money to Mr. Stapleton at once. You can tell him, if you wish, how it came into your possession. He will be furious, of course; but he must understand that the capture of these scoundrels is quite as important to the city of Paris as the recovery of his son. We have done our best, and failed. We must try again."
"Richard was at the Porte de Versailles," remarked Grace, quietly. "He tried to stop my car."
"Yes. I saw him. He is coming here at once."
The girl rose, in nervous haste. "I must go, then. It would be most unwise to have him find me here."