VI
CORPORAL VINSON
With one knee resting on his portmanteau, Jerome Fandor was pullingwith all the force of his powerful arms at the straps in order tobuckle them up.
It was Sunday, November the thirteenth, and five o'clock in theafternoon. The flat was brilliantly illuminated, and the greatestdisorder reigned throughout.
At last Fandor was off for his holiday! Not to risk losing his train,our journalist meant to dine at the Lyons railway station.
"Ouf!" cried he, when he had succeeded in cramming his mass ofgarments sufficiently tight, and had then closed the portmanteau.
Fandor uttered a sigh of satisfaction. This time there could be nodoubt about his departure--the thing was certain. He was casting afinal glance round when he stopped short in the middle of the passage.
The door-bell had been rung: evidently someone was at the entrancedoor. Who was it? What was it? Had something arisen which was going toprevent his departure? He went quickly to the door. He opened it tofind a soldier on the landing.
"Monsieur Fandor?" he enquired in a gentle, rather husky voice.
"Yes. What is it you want?" replied the journalist crossly.
The soldier came forward a step: then, as if making an effort, hearticulated painfully:
"Will you permit me to enter? I am most anxious to speak to you."
Fandor, with a movement of the hand, signified that the importunatestranger might come inside. He observed the man closely. He was quiteyoung, and wore infantry uniform: his stripes were those of acorporal. His hair was brown, and his light eyes were in markedcontrast to the much darker tones of his face. A slight moustacheshaded his lip.
The corporal followed Fandor into his study, and stood still with anembarrassed air. The journalist considered him an instant, then asked:
"To whom have I the honour of speaking?"
This question appeared to tear the soldier from a kind of dream. Hejumped, then mechanically stood at attention, as if before a superiorofficer.
"I am Corporal Vinson."
Fandor nodded, tried to remember him, but in vain. The name told himnothing....
"I have not the honour to be known to you, Monsieur, but I know youvery well through your articles."
Then he continued in almost a supplicating tone:
"I greatly need speech with you, Monsieur."...
"Another bore," said Fandor to himself, "who wants to get me to givehim a recommendation of some sort!"
Our journalist boiled with impatience at the thought of the preciousminutes he was losing. He would have to cut his dinner short if he didnot wish to miss the night express. Nevertheless, wishing to lessenthe unpleasant reception he had given this unwelcome visitor, hemurmured in a tone which was cold, all the same:
"Pray be seated, Monsieur: I am listening to you!"
Corporal Vinson seemed greatly agitated.
The invitation was evidently very opportune, for the visitor lethimself fall heavily into an arm-chair. Great drops of perspirationwere on his forehead, his lips were pallid: at intervals he looked atthe journalist, whose impassible countenance did not seem to inviteconfidences. The poor trooper lost countenance more and more: Fandorremained silent.
At last Vinson managed to say, in a voice strangling with emotion:
"Ah! Monsieur, excuse me for having come to disturb you like this, butI was determined to tell you ... to know you--to express to you ...how I appreciate your talent, your way of writing ... how I like theideas you express in your paper!... There was your last article, sojust, so ... charitable!"
"You are very kind, Monsieur," interrupted Fandor, "and I am muchobliged to you; but, if it is the same to you, we might arrange ameeting for another day, because now I am very pressed for time."...
Fandor made as if to rise to emphasise his statement; but CorporalVinson, far from imitating the movement, sank deeper and deeper in thelarge arm-chair, into which he had literally fallen a few minutesbefore, and with an accent of profound anguish, for he understoodFandor's desire to shorten the conversation, he cried with a groan:
"Ah, Monsieur, do not send me away! If I keep silence now, I shallnever have the courage to speak--but I must."...
The soldier's countenance was so full of alarm that Fandor regrettedhis first movement of ill-temper, his show of impatience. Perhaps thisman had interesting things to say! He must give the fellow confidence.Fandor smiled.
"Very well," he suggested amiably, "let us have a talk if you reallywish it."...
Corporal Vinson considered Fandor a moment, thanking him with a lookfor his more cordial attitude; then suddenly drawing himself up into astanding position, he shouted:
"Monsieur Fandor ... I am a traitor!"
Though far from expecting so brutal a declaration, Fandor sat tight.He well knew that in such circumstances comments are useless. He roseslowly, approached the soldier, and, placing his hands on the agitatedman's shoulders, pushed him back into the arm-chair.
"Control yourself, Monsieur, I beg of you," he said in a kind voice."You must not upset yourself like this! Be calm!"
Great tears flowed down the corporal's sunburnt cheeks, and Fandorconsidered him, not knowing how to console so great, so spontaneous agrief.
Amidst his despair, Corporal Vinson stammered out:
"Yes, Monsieur, it's because of a woman--you will understand--you whowrite articles in which you say that there should be pity for suchunfortunates as I am--for one is a miserable wretch when a woman hasyou in her clutches, and you have no money--and then, with that sort,once you have started getting mixed up in their affairs, you are jollywell caught--you have to do as you are told--and always they ask moreand more of you.... Ah, Monsieur, the death of Captain Brocq is afrightful disaster! As for me.... If I have turned traitor--it istheir fault."...
The corporal murmured some unintelligible words, pronouncing namesunknown to Fandor; but our journalist was rejoicing more and more atthis outpouring.
Suddenly he got the impression that the mysterious happenings, theobscure drama he had been on the fringe of for some days past wasbecoming clear, that the veil of ignorance was being torn away. Fandorhad the sensation of being a spectator, before whose eyes a curtainwas slowly rising which until then had concealed the scenery of theplay.
The corporal continued, stammeringly:
"Ah, Monsieur, you do not know what it is to have for your mistresssuch a woman as ... she whom I love, ... such a woman as ... Nichoune!Nichoune! Ah, all Chalons knows what she is like. Her wickedness iswell known ... but for all that, there is not a man who."...
Fandor interrupted:
"But, my good corporal, why are you telling me all this?"
"Why, Monsieur," replied Vinson, after a pause and a piteous look,"because--it's because ... I have sworn to tell you everything beforeI die!"
"Hang it all! What do you mean to do?" asked Fandor.
The corporal replied simply, but his tone was decisive:
"I mean to kill myself!"
From this moment it was Fandor who, far from wishing to start off forhis train--he had given up any idea of leaving for the South thatevening--was bent on getting from the soldier further details abouthis life.
Fandor now learned that the corporal had been in the service somefifteen months. He had been among the first conscripts affected by thenew law of two years' compulsory service, and had been sent to the214th of the line, in garrison at Chalons. Owing to his qualities hehad been much appreciated by all his superior officers. As soon as hehad finished his classes, he obtained his corporal's stripes, and inconsideration of his very good handwriting, and also owing to theinfluence of a commandant, he got a snug post as secretary in theoffices of the fortress itself.
Vinson was thoroughly satisfied with his new situation; for, havingbeen brought up in his mother's petticoats, and practically the wholeof his adolescence having been passed behind the counter of thematernal book-shop, he had much more the temperament of a clerk thanof an active ou
t-of-doors man.
The only sport which he enjoyed was riding, riding a bicycle, and theonly luxury he allowed himself was photography.
Time passed. Then, one Sunday evening, he went with some comrades to aChalons music-hall.
Vinson's chief companions were some non-commissioned officers, alittle better off than he was.... Without being lavish in theirexpenditure, these young fellows did not reckon up their every penny,and, not wishing to be behindhand, Vinson had sent to his mother formoney again and again, and she had kept him in funds.
On this particular evening, after the concert, they had invited someof the performers to supper in a private room, and Vinson, in thecourse of the entertainment, was attracted, fascinated, by a tall girlwith dyed hair, emaciated cheeks, and brilliant eyes, whose flashymanners smacking of some low suburb, had subjugated him completely.
Vinson made an impression on the singer, for she did not respond tothe advances of a swaggering sergeant, reputed generous, but turnedher attentions to the modest corporal.
They talked, and they discovered they were affinities. The result wasthey found themselves at daybreak on the deserted boulevard ofChalons. The corporal's leave did not expire till the evening of thefollowing day. Nichoune offered him hospitality: they became lovers.
Vinson's heart was in this liaison: he persuaded himself that thechain that bound them was indissoluble. The singer's idea was toprofit by it. Her demands for money were constant: she harried herlover for money.
Little by little, Vinson's mother cut off supplies: the corporal,incapable of breaking with Nichoune, ran up debts in the town.
"But," went on Vinson, "this is only the beginning. I have told youthis, Monsieur, with the hope of excusing myself to a certain extentfor what I did later on. My actions were the outcome and consequencesof my difficulties."
"Something serious?" questioned Fandor.
"You shall judge of that, Monsieur."
Vinson went on with his confession in a firmer tone. Fandor realisedthat the corporal had decided to make a clean breast of it.
"It sometimes happened after I had had a scene with Nichoune, and hadquitted her in a fury, that I would go for a long bicycle ride intothe country, taking my shame and rage with me. On a certain Saturday,bestriding my faithful bike, I went for a spin along the dustyhigh-road which runs past the camp. After going at high speed, Idismounted, seated myself under a tree in the shade, by the side of aditch, and was falling asleep. It was summer, the sun was pouringdown. A cyclist stopped in front of me with a punctured tyre. He askedme to lend him the wherewithal to repair it; and whilst the solutionwas drying we started talking.
"This individual was about thirty; elegantly dressed; and from the wayhe expressed himself, one could see that he was a man accustomed togood society.
"He told me he was making a tour, and was now doing the neighbourhoodabout Reims and Chalons.
"'Not very picturesque country,' I remarked.
"But he retorted;
"'It is interesting--the roads, for example, are complicated!'
"I began to laugh at this, and as he insisted on the difficulty he hadto find his way in these parts, I offered to let him look at myStaff-office map. I carried a copy in my blazer.... Ah, Monsieur--howwell Alfred played his little comedy! That is what he called himself,at least, that was the name he was known by--the only name I have everknown. He seemed absolutely stupefied at the sight of this map,ordinary though as it was, and seemed set on buying it from me. I didnot want to part with it. He offered five francs for it. I expressedmy astonishment that he would not wait till he got to Chalons, wherehe could procure one like it for the sum of twenty sous.
"'Bah!' declared Alfred, 'It gives me pleasure to pay you that sum--itis a way of thanking you for having lent me the use of your cycleoutfit.'
"My faith, Monsieur Fandor, I was too beggared to say 'No!' so Iaccepted the money, while making excuses for myself: my plea beingthat a soldier is not a rich man.
"I pass over details. It is sufficient to say that when we returned toChalons together, we were such good friends that he asked me to dinewith him. When he saw me back to barracks, Alfred pressed a loan onme. I had told him about Nichoune, and about the pecuniarydifficulties I was in, for by this time, I had full confidence in him.He slipped a twenty-franc piece into my hand with an air of authority:'When you become a civilian again,' said he, 'you will easily be ableto pay me back; and besides, to salve your pride, I am going to askyou shortly to do me a few services. I often have little things done.I shall entrust the doing of them to you, and shall pay youaccordingly.'...
"You understand, Monsieur Fandor, that there was no reason forrefusing, that I could see, especially as he made the offer verynicely, and that it came in the nick of time, at the very momentwhen--I have to admit it--I would have done anything for money....
"After this we met frequently. Alfred used to send me invitations, andoften he included Nichoune. He never would let me pay for anything;and, I must confess, that the greater part of the time I should havefound it very difficult indeed to pay a sou!
"We always met at some appointed place outside the town: he would notstay in Chalons longer than he could help, because he said the airthere was bad for his delicate lungs. He was particularly interestedin aviation, and he was for ever getting me to pilot him about theaviation camp.
"'You who draw so well,' he would say; 'make me a plan of thisapparatus!... Explain to me how these huts are constructed!'
"He would question me as to the effectives of the regiments, ask medetails as to estimates, statements, and returns which passed throughmy hands in the offices.
"Finally, one day, as I had no inkling of what he was really aimingat, Alfred put me on to it!"...
The corporal stopped. His throat was strained and dry.
Fandor brought him a glass of water, which he swallowed at a gulp.With a grateful look he continued:
"'Vinson,' said Alfred to me, 'I have confidence in you, and you knowhow discreet I am! Very well, I have a superb piece of business inhand which ought to bring us in a great deal of money. A stranger withwhom I came into contact recently, who is a very good fellow, who hasbeen obliged to leave his country owing to troubles that were broughton him, possesses a document, a very interesting one, which would bemuch valued at the Staff Headquarters of the Sixth Corps. He needsmoney and would be willing to sell it. I tried to buy it from him, butI have not the necessary funds. I was seeking a solution of thedifficulty, when this stranger asked me to procure him somephotographs of the Chalons barracks, in exchange for which he wouldgive me his document. He needs these photographs for postcardpurposes. If we could supply him with them in three days, not onlywill he give us his important paper, but he will pay twenty francs foreach proof as well!'
"Ah, Monsieur Fandor, this story did not hang together, but I wasactually weak enough to believe it! Or at least I tried to makemyself believe it. Besides, this proposal of Alfred's came just intime: I had not a sou to my name! Nichoune was making a terrible row,and I hardly dared venture into the streets, I had so many creditors.
"I tried to square matters with my conscience: telling myself thatthere was nothing compromising connected with these photographs: infact, views of our barracks are to be found in any album on sale,however small.
"Later on, I learned that this was a method _they_ employed to decoythe guides, to draw them securely into their toils. _They_ first ofall give them very insignificant things to do, in order not tofrighten them, and pay a high price: it is afterwards that they fastenyou up tight. You shall see how."...
Fandor nodded. It was nearly time to catch the train, but he thoughtno more of the Cote d'Azur! He was too interested in the corporal'sconfession, and felt that by letting him speak he would learn more, hewould learn much. He therefore encouraged Vinson to continue. Thecorporal asked nothing better.
"The photographs taken, I rejoined Alfred, who had told me to be sureto get leave for forty-eight hours, whatever happened. Alfre
d draggedme to the railway station; he had two tickets. We went off to Nancy,where, said he, we should find the purchaser. At Nancy, no one;whoever it was, had gone to a street in one of the suburbs. We waitedin a little flat. Towards four in the afternoon Alfred said to me:'Bah! Don't let us hesitate any longer. If the stranger has not come,it is because he is waiting for us elsewhere--I know where--let us goto meet him--at Metz!"
"'At Metz!' I cried. 'But we should have to cross the frontier, and Ihave not.'...
"Alfred interrupted me, laughing. He opened a press and brought outcivilian clothes, then he took wigs from a drawer, and a false beard.At the end of half-an-hour we were disguised; an hour later we were inLorraine. We left the train there. It was there that, for the firsttime, I began to be afraid, for it seemed to me that when leaving thestation at Metz, Alfred exchanged a quick glance with the policemanon duty. Ah, Monsieur Fandor, how I have regretted this journey!Directly we were in a foreign country, Alfred's attitude towards mechanged: he was no longer the friend, he was the master. He had gotme, the rogue, and jolly tight too!
"'Where are we going?' I asked.
"Alfred chuckled.
"'By jove! can't you guess?' he replied. 'Why, we are going to theWornerstrasse, to visit Major Schwartz of the IntelligenceDepartment.'
"'I shall not go!' I declared.
"Alfred's look was a menace.
"'You will come,' said he, in a low voice. 'Consider! If you refuse,at the end of five minutes the police will have unmasked you!'...
"There was nothing else to be done. I knew this IntelligenceDepartment already, by reputation. Alfred had spoken to me about it.It was a vast suite of rooms on the first floor of a middle-classhouse, where a number of men in civilian clothes were at work. Theyall bore the military stamp. We had to wait in a large room filledwith draughtsmen and typewriters, and on the wall hung a map, on ahuge scale, of the frontier of the Vosges.
"Alfred sent in his name.
"A few minutes afterwards we were ushered into an office. A big man,seated behind a table heaped with bundles of papers, scrutinised usover his spectacles: he was bald, and wore a thick square-cut fairbeard. He examined the photographs without a word, threw themcarelessly on a set of shelves, and took from his drawer ten louis inFrench money, which he counted out to me. Of any document in exchangethere was, of course, no question! I thought everything was finished,and I was preparing to leave this abominable place when the big manput his hand on my arm. It was Major Schwartz himself, the chief ofthe spy system there--I learned that later. He said to me in verycorrect French, with hardly a trace of accent to betray his origin:
"'Corporal Vinson, we have paid you lavishly for information of novalue, but you will have to serve us better than that, and we shallcontinue to treat you well.'
"I thought I should have fainted when I heard my name pronounced bythis man. It was clear he already knew my rank and name.... He knewmuch more than that--as the conversation which followed let me see. Heinformed me that he wished to obtain a complete statement of theorganisation of the dirigibles and aeroplanes; he must have thecharacteristics of all the apparatus; a list of the Flying ServiceCorps: he exacted even more confidential information still--where theaviators and the aircraft were to be moved if mobilisation tookplace--the whole bag of tricks, in fact!"
"And," asked Fandor, hesitating a little, "you have ... supplied himwith all this?"
In a voice so low as to be barely audible, and blushing to the rootsof his hair, Vinson confessed:
"I supplied it all!"
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Not yet, Monsieur--listen:
"Alfred had gone back with me as far as Nancy, where I had put on myuniform again; then I returned to Chalons quite by myself.
"I asked myself if it would be possible to get clear away from theterrible set I was mixed up with. Try as I might, I could not manageit. Every day Alfred harried me, threatened me: I had to obey him.Then almost on the top of this came the affair of Captain Brocq."
Fandor had been waiting for this. He had foreseen that he was going tolearn what the connecting link was, which united the adventures ofCorporal Vinson with the drama of the Place de l'Etoile, but hisexpectations were not fulfilled.... True enough, Vinson, through themysterious intervention of his redoubtful friends, was to enter intorelations with Captain Brocq, to whom he had been recommended, how orin what terms he did not know.
The business hung fire for several weeks, and this was owing to Vinsonhimself, whose moods alternated from one of shrinking disgust to oneof bravado courage.
"At times," said he, "I wished to break with them at any cost, andbecome honest once more; but, alas, I was always under the evilinfluence of Nichoune, who was a very close friend of Alfred, and thepair of them encouraged me to tread the traitor's path withoutfaltering. Then, without breathing a word, I put in a request throughthe proper channel for a change of garrison. I hoped to get senteither to the West or the South; above all, I was bent on leaving theSixth Corps, on flying from the frontier neighbourhood, and finishingmy service in some district or region where it would be impossible forthem to make me their spy tool. But, I do not know how--was it throughNichoune?--I expect so, because I had unluckily confided this secretto her one evening--Alfred got wind of what I was up to. He flew intoa fearful rage. Suddenly he quieted down, and began to laugh.
"'Ah, my boy, I am going to play a good joke on you!'
"It was a terrible joke--it is that still, Monsieur! Listen to whathappened! I got my exchange all right: it is on that account I haveeight days' leave; but next Monday, November 21st, before midday, Imust report to my new regiment. But this regiment, the 257th Infantry,is in garrison at Verdun!... You grasp it?"
"I begin to," murmured Fandor.
"At Verdun," continued Vinson, who had risen, and was walking to andfro, pressing his head between his hands, a prey to an indescribableanguish.... "At Verdun! That is to say at the frontier itself! Thatmeans I shall be in the thick of all that lot--at their mercy!... Oh,the trick had been well thought out, carefully contrived! I have gotaway from the wasp's nest only to tumble into the middle of the swarm!Oh, Monsieur, I am losing my head absolutely! I feel that they have metight, that it is impossible to get free of them and, what is more, Iam afraid of being taken up ... yes. These last few days at Chalons Ihave been terrified: I believe that they suspect me, that they suspectNichoune, that my superiors have me under supervision! Directly afterthe announcement of Captain Brocq's assassination appeared in thepapers, all this descended on me as swiftly as a tempest. Oh, I amlost! Lost!!... I wished to come and make an open confession of all myshame to you that, by means of an article in your paper, you may putyoung soldiers on their guard, those who, owing to a mad infatuationfor some abominable women, or through need of money, should bedisposed to follow my wretched example some cursed day or other--yes,my damnable example!"
The corporal fell down in the middle of the room, fell down like acrumpled rag: he sobbed.
Fandor pitied this miserable creature who had sunk so low. He raisedhim gently.
"Vinson," he declared, "you must not die. Remember you have a mother!Listen! Be brave! Summon your courage! Tell your chiefseverything--everything!"
The wretched man shook his head.
"Never! Never, Monsieur--I could not do it. Think, Monsieur: it is thevilest of vile things I have done--I, a soldier of France--of France,Monsieur!... You spoke of my mother! It is because of her I wish tokill myself! You must know that she is an Alsatian!... She would gomad--mad, Monsieur, if she learned that her son has betrayedFrance!... This evening Corporal Vinson will no longer exist--it willbe well finished with him!"
There was a great silence.
Fandor, with his arms folded and anxious brow, was pacing up and downhis study, seeking a solution of this frightful problem, askinghimself what was to be done.... He saw that this miserable Vinson wascaught in the wheels of a terrible machine, from which it was almostimpossible to snatch him into safet
y. Nevertheless, his consciencerevolted at the idea that he should do nothing to avert this wretchedlad's suicide. He must stop Vinson--he must certainly save him fromhimself at any price, save him doubly!
Then Fandor saw further than this.
He perceived that good may come out of evil: perhaps through Vinsonand his relations with this nefarious nest of spies, they wouldsucceed in clearing up the dark mystery surrounding the death ofCaptain Brocq. Evidently all these happenings were interconnected!...
With his mind's eye, Fandor saw this foreign spy system under the formof an immense--a vast spider's web. Could one but lay hands on theoriginator of the initial thread, or the master-spider himself, thenthey could strike at the extreme ends of this evil tissue.
* * * * *
Fandor admonished Vinson for a long time. Our journalist was noweloquent, now persuasive: he heaped argument on argument, he appealedto his self-respect, to duty! When at last he saw that the youngcorporal hesitated, that a faint gleam of hope appeared, that a vaguedesire for rehabilitation was born in him, he stopped short anddemanded abruptly:
"Vinson, are you still bent on killing yourself?"
The corporal communed with himself a moment, closed his eyes, and,without a touch of insincerity, replied in a steady voice:
"Yes, I have decided to do it."
"In that case," said Fandor, "will you look on the deed as done, andtake it that you are no longer in existence?"
The corporal stared at Fandor, speechless, absolutely dumbfounded.Fandor made his idea more definite.
"From this moment you do not exist any more, you are nothing, you areno longer Corporal Vinson."...
"And then?"...
But Fandor must have a definite promise.
"Is this agreed to?"...
"I agree."
"Swear it!"
"I swear it!"
"Very well, Vinson, you now belong to me, you are my property, mychattel; I am going to give you my instructions, and they must bestrictly obeyed, carried out!"
The miserable soldier seemed crushed to the earth; but with a movementof his head he signified that he was prepared to do whatever thejournalist ordered.