CHAPTER III
THE STORY OF A SECRET
This story of a secret is not without its humorous side.
Before entering Paris, on our quick run up from Marseilles after theaffair of the jeweller's shop, we had stopped at Melun, beyondFontainebleau. There, a well-known carriage-builder had been ordered torepaint the car pale blue, with a dead white band. Upon the panels, myemployer, the impudent Bindo, had ordered a count's coronet, with thecipher "G. B." beneath, all to be done in the best style and regardlessof expense. Then, that same evening, we took the express to the Gare deLyon, and put up, as before, at the Ritz.
For three weeks, without the car, we had a pleasant time. Usually CountBindo di Ferraris spent his time with his gay friends, lounging inthe evening at Maxim's, or giving costly suppers at the Americain. Onelady with whom I often saw him walking in the streets, or sitting incafes, was, I discovered, known as "Valentine of the Beautiful Eyes,"for I recognised her one night on the stage of a music-hall in theBoulevard de Clichy, where she was evidently a great favourite. She wasyoung--not more than twenty, I think--with wonderful big coal-blackeyes, a wealth of dark hair worn with a _bandeau_, and a face that wasperfectly charming.
She seemed known to Blythe, too, for one evening I saw her sitting withhim in the Brasserie Universelle, in the Avenue de l'Opera--that placewhere one dines so well and cheaply. She was laughing, and had a_demi-blonde_ raised to her lips. So essentially a Parisienne, she wasalso something of a mystery, for though she often frequented cafes, andwent to the Folies Bergeres and Olympia, sang at the Marigny, and mixedwith a Bohemian crowd of champagne-drinkers, she seemed nevertheless amost decorous little lady. In fact, though I had not spoken to her, shehad won my admiration. She was very beautiful, and I--well, I was only aman, and human.
One bright morning, when the car came to Paris, I called for her, atBindo's orders, at her flat in the Avenue Kleber, where she lived, itappeared, with a prim, sharp-nosed old aunt, of angular appearance,peculiarly French. She soon appeared, dressed in the very latestmotor-clothes, with her veil properly fixed, in a manner which showed meinstantly that she was a motorist. Besides, she would not enter the car,but got up beside me, wrapped a rug about her skirts in a business-likemanner, and gave me the order to move.
"Where to, mademoiselle?" I asked.
"Did not the Count give you instructions?" she asked in her prettybroken English, turning her great dark eyes upon me in surprise. "Why,to Brussels, of course."
"To Brussels!" I ejaculated, for I thought the run was to be only aboutParis--to meet Bindo, perhaps.
"Yes. Are you surprised?" she laughed. "It is not far--two hundredkilometres, or so. Surely that is nothing for you?"
"Not at all. Only the Count is at the Ritz. Shall we not call therefirst?"
"The Count left for Belgium by the seven-fifty train this morning," washer reply. "He has taken our baggage with his, and you will take me byroad alone."
I was, of course, nothing loth to spend a few hours with such a charmingcompanion as La Valentine; therefore in the Avenue des Champs Elysees Ipulled up, and consulting my road-book, decided to go by way of Arras,Douai, St. Amand, and Ath. Quickly we ran out beyond the fortifications;while, driving in silence, I wondered what this latest manoeuvre wasto be. This sudden flight from Paris was more than mysterious. It causedme considerable apprehension, for when I had seen the Count in his roomat midnight he had made no mention of his intention to leave so early.
At last, out upon the straight highway that ran between lines of highbare poplars, I put on speed, and quickly the cloud of white dust rosebehind us. The northerly wind that grey day was biting, and threatenedsnow; therefore my pretty companion very soon began to feel the cold. Isaw her turning up the collar of her cloth motor-coat, and guessed thatshe had no leather beneath. To do a day's journey in comfort in suchweather one must be wind-proof.
"You are cold, mademoiselle," I remarked. "Will you not put on myleather jacket? You'll feel the benefit of it, even though it may notappear very smart." And I pulled up.
With a light merry laugh she consented, and I got out the garment inquestion, helped her into it over her coat, and though a trifle tightacross the chest, she at once declared that it was a most excellentidea. She was, indeed, a merry child of Paris, and allowed me to buttonthe coat, smiling the while at my masculine clumsiness.
Then we continued on our way, and a few moments later were going for allwe were worth over the dry, well-kept, level road eastward, towards theBelgian frontier. She laughed and chatted as the hours went by. She hadbeen in London last spring, she told me, and had stayed at the Savoy.The English were so droll, and lacked _cachet_, though the hotel wassmart--especially at supper.
"We pass Douai," she remarked presently, after we had run rapidlythrough many villages and small towns. "I must call for a telegram."And then, somehow, she settled down into a thoughtful silence.
At Arras I pulled up, and got her a glass of hot milk. Then on again,for she declared that she was not hungry, and preferred getting toBrussels than to linger on the road. On the broad highway to Douaiwe went at the greatest speed that I could get out of the finesix-cylinder, the engines beating beautiful time, and the car runningas smoothly as a watch. The clouds of whirling dust became very bad,however, and I was compelled to goggle, while the talc-fronted veiladequately protected my sweet-faced travelling-companion.
At Douai she descended and entered the post-office herself, returningwith a telegram and a letter. The latter she handed to me, and I foundit was addressed in my name, and had been sent to the Poste-restante.
Tearing it open in surprise, I read the hastily pencilled lines itcontained--instructions in the Count's handwriting which were extremelypuzzling, not to say disconcerting. The words I read were:--
"After crossing the frontier you will assume the name of Count de Bourbriac, and Valentine will pass as the Countess. A suitable suite of rooms has been taken for you at the Grand Hotel, Brussels, where you will find your luggage on your arrival. Mademoiselle will supply you with funds. I shall be in Brussels, but shall not approach you.--B. DI F."
The pretty Valentine who was to pose as my wife crushed the bluetelegram into her coat-pocket, mounted into her seat, wrapped her rugaround her, and ordered me to proceed.
I glanced at her, but she was to all appearances quite unconscious ofthe extraordinary contents of the Count's letter.
We had run fully twenty miles in silence when at last, on ascending asteep hill, I turned to her and said--
"The Count has sent me some very extraordinary instructions,mademoiselle. I am, after passing the frontier, to become Count deBourbriac, and you are to pass as the Countess!"
"Well?" she asked, arching her well-marked eyebrows. "Is that so verydifficult, m'sieur? Are you disinclined to allow me to pass as yourwife?"
"Not at all," I replied, smiling. "Only--well--it issomewhat--er--unconventional, is it not?"
"Rather an amusing adventure than otherwise," she laughed. "I shall callyou _mon cher_ Gaston, and you--well, you will call me your _petite_Liane--Liane de Bourbriac will sound well, will it not?"
"Yes. But why this masquerade?" I inquired. "I confess, mademoiselle, Idon't understand it at all."
"Dear Bindo does. Ask him." Then, after a brief pause, she added, "Thisis really a rather novel experience;" and she laughed gleefully, asthough thoroughly enjoying the adventure.
Without slackening speed I drove on through the short winter afternoon.The faint yellow sunset slowly disappeared behind us, and darkness crepton. With the fading day the cold became intense, and when I stopped tolight the head-lamps I got out my cashmere muffler and wrapped it aroundher throat.
At last we reached the small frontier village, where we pulled up beforethe Belgian Custom House, paid the deposit upon the car, and obtainedthe leaden seal. Then, after a liqueur-glass of cognac each at a littlecafe in the vicinity, we set out again upon that long wide road thatleads through Ath
to Brussels.
A puncture at a place called Leuze caused us a little delay, but the_pseudo_ Countess descended and assisted me, even helping me to blow upthe new tube, declaring that the exercise would warm her.
For what reason the pretty Valentine was to pass as my wife was, to me,entirely mysterious. That Bindo was engaged in some fresh scheme offraud was certain, but what it was I racked my brains in vain todiscover.
Near Enghien we had several other tyre troubles, for the road had beennewly metalled for miles. As every motorist knows, misfortunes nevercome singly, and in consequence it was already seven o'clock nextmorning before we entered Brussels by the Porte de Hal, and ran alongthe fine Boulevard d'Anspach, to the Grand Hotel.
The gilt-laced hall-porter, who was evidently awaiting us, rushed outcap in hand, and I, quickly assuming my _role_ as Count, helped out the"Countess," and gave the car over to one of the employes of the hotelgarage.
By the manager we were ushered into a fine suite of six rooms on thefirst floor, overlooking the Boulevard, and treated with all thedeference due to persons of highest standing.
At that moment Valentine showed her cleverness by remarking that she hadnot brought Elise, her maid, as she was to follow by train, and that Iwould employ the services of one of the hotel valets for the time being.Indeed, so cleverly did she assume the part that she might really havebeen one of the ancient nobility of France.
I spoke in English. On the Continent just now it is considered rathersmart to talk English. One often hears two German or Italian womenspeaking atrocious English together, in order to air their superiorknowledge before strangers. Therefore that I spoke English was notremarked by the manager, who explained that our courier had given himall instructions, and had brought the baggage in advance. The courierwas, I could only suppose, the audacious Bindo himself.
That day passed quite merrily. We lunched together, took a drive in thepretty Bois de la Cambre, and after dining, went to the Monnaie to see_Madame Butterfly_. On our return to the hotel I found a note fromBindo, and saying good-night to Valentine I went forth again to keep theappointment he had made in a cafe in the quiet Chausee de Charleroi, onthe opposite side of the city.
When I entered the little place I found the Count seated at a tablewith Blythe and Henderson. The two latter were dressed shabbily, whilethe Count himself was in dark-grey, with a soft felt hat--the perfectcounterfeit of the foreign courier.
With enthusiasm I was welcomed into the corner.
"Well?" asked Bindo, with a laugh, "and how do you like your new wife,Ewart?" and the others smiled.
"Charming," I replied. "But I don't see exactly where the joke comesin."
"I don't suppose you do, just yet."
"It's a risky proceeding, isn't it?" I queried.
"Risky! What risk is there in gulling hotel people?" he asked. "If youdon't intend to pay the bill it would be quite another matter."
"But why is the lady to pass as my wife? Why am I the Count deBourbriac? Why, indeed, are we here at all?"
"That's our business, my dear Ewart. Leave matters to us. All you've gotto do is just to play your part well. Appear to be very devoted to LaComtesse, and it'll be several hundreds into your pocket--perhaps alevel thou'--who knows?"
"A thou' each--quite," declared Blythe, a cool, audacious internationalswindler of the most refined and cunning type.
"But what risk is there?" I inquired, for my companions seemed to beangling after big fish this time, whoever they were.
"None, as far as you are concerned. Be advised by Valentine. She's asclever a girl as there is in all Europe. She has her eyes and ears openall the time. A lover will come on the scene before long, and you mustbe jealous--devilish jealous--you understand?"
"A lover? Who? I don't understand."
"You'll see, soon enough. Go back to the hotel--or stay with usto-night, if you prefer it. Only don't worry yourself over risks. Wenever take any. Only fools do that. Whatever we do is always a deadcertainty before we embark upon the job."
"Then I'm to understand that some fellow is making love toValentine--eh?"
"Exactly. To-morrow night you are both invited to a ball at the BelleVue, in aid of the Hospital St. Jean. You will go, and there the loverwill appear. You will withdraw, and allow the little flirtation toproceed. Valentine herself will give you further instructions as theoccasion warrants."
"I confess I don't half like it. I'm working too much in the dark," Iprotested.
"That's just what we intend. If you knew too much you might betrayyourself, for the people we've got to deal with have eyes in the backsof their heads," declared Bindo.
It was five o'clock next morning before I returned to the Grand, butduring the hours we smoked together, at various obscure cafes, the triotold me nothing further, though they chaffed me regarding the beauty ofthe girl who had consented to act the part of my wife, and who, I couldonly suppose, "stood in" with us.
At noon, surely enough, came a special invitation to the "Comte etComtesse de Bourbriac" for the great ball that evening at the HotelBelle Vue, and at ten o'clock that night Valentine entered our privatesalon splendidly dressed in a low-cut gown of smoke-grey chiffon coveredwith sequins. Her hair had been dressed by a maid of the first order,and as she stood pulling on her long gloves she looked superb.
"How do you find me, my dear M'sieur Ewart? Do I look like a comtesse?"she asked, laughing.
"You look perfectly charming, mademoiselle."
"Liane, if you please," she said reprovingly, holding up her slimforefinger. "Liane, Comtesse de Bourbriac, Chateau de Bourbriac, Cotesdu Nord!" and her pretty lips parted, showing her even, pearly teeth.
When, half an hour later, we entered the ballroom we found all smartBrussels assembled around a royal prince and his wife who had giventheir patronage in the cause of charity. The affair was, I saw at aglance, a distinctly society function, for many men from the Ministrieswere present, and several of the Ambassadors in uniform, together withtheir staffs, who, wearing their crosses and ribbons, made a braveshow, as they do in every ballroom.
We had not been there ten minutes before a tall, good-looking young manin a German cavalry uniform strode up in recognition, and bowing lowover Valentine's outstretched hand, said in French--
"My dear Countess! How very delighted we are to have you here with usto-night! You will spare me a dance, will you not? May I be introducedto the Count?"
"My husband--Captain von Stolberg, of the German Embassy."
And we shook hands. Was this fellow the lover? I wondered.
"I met the Countess at Vichy last autumn," explained the Captain in verygood English. "She spoke very often of you. You were away in Scotland,shooting the grouse," he said.
"Yes--yes," I replied for want of something better to say.
We both chatted with the young attache for a few minutes, and then, as awaltz struck up, he begged a dance of my "wife," and they both whirleddown the room. Valentine was a splendid dancer, and as I watched them Iwondered what could be the nature of the plot in progress.
I did not come across my pretty fellow-traveller for half an hour, andthen I found that the Captain had half filled her programme. Therefore I"lay low," danced once or twice with uninteresting Belgian matrons, andspent the remainder of the night in the _fumoir_, until I found my"wife" ready to return to the Grand.
When we were back in the salon at the hotel she asked--
"How do you like the Captain, M'sieur Ewart? Is he not--what you call inEnglish--a duck?"
"An over-dressed, swaggering young idiot, I call him," was my promptreply.
"And there you are right--quite right, my dear M'sieur Ewart. Butyou see we all have an eye to business in this affair. He will callto-morrow, because he is extremely fond of me. Oh! if you had heard allhis pretty love phrases! I suppose he has learnt them out of a book.They couldn't be his own. Germans are not romantic--how can they be? Buthe--ah! he is Adonis in the flesh--with corsets!" And we laughed merrilytogether.
"He thinks you are fond of him--eh?"
"Why, of course. He made violent love to me at Vichy. But he was notattache then."
"And how am I to treat him when he calls to-morrow?"
"As your bosom friend. Give him confidence--the most perfect confidence.Don't play the jealous husband yet. That will come afterwards. _Bonsoir, m'sieur_;" and when I had bowed over her soft little hand, sheturned and swept out of the room with a loud _frou-frou_ of her silkentrain.
That night I sat before the fire smoking for a long time. My companionswere evidently playing some deep game upon this young German, a game inwhich neither trouble nor expense was being spared--a game in which theprize was a level thousand pounds apiece all round. I quite appreciatedthat I had now become an adventurer, but I had done so out of pure loveof adventure.
About four o'clock next afternoon the Captain came to take"fif-o'-clock," as he called it. He clicked his heels together as hebowed over Valentine's hand, and she smiled upon him even more sweetlythan she had smiled at me when I had helped her into my leathermotor-coat. She wore a beautiful toilette, one of the latest ofDoeillet's she had explained to me, and really presented a delightfullydainty figure as she sat there pouring out tea, and chatting with theinfatuated Captain of Cuirassiers.
I saw quickly that I was not wanted; therefore I excused myself, andwent for a stroll along to the Cafe Metropole, afterwards taking a turnup the Montagne de la Cour. All day I had been on the look-out to seeeither Bindo or his companions, but they were evidently in hiding.
When I returned, just in time to dress for dinner, I asked Valentinewhat progress her lover was making, but she merely replied--
"Slow--very slow. But in things of this magnitude one must havepatience. We are invited to the Embassy ball in honour of the CrownPrince of Saxony to-morrow night. It will be amusing."
Next night she dressed in a gown of pale rose chiffon, and we went tothe Embassy, where one of the most brilliant balls of the season was inprogress, King Leopold himself being present to honour the Crown Prince.Captain Stolberg soon discovered the woman who held him beneath herspell, and I found myself dancing attendance upon the snub-nosed littledaughter of a Burgomaster, with whom I waltzed the greater part of theevening.
On our return my "wife" told me with a laugh that matters wereprogressing well. "Otto," she added, "is such a fool. Men in love willbelieve any fiction a woman tells them. Isn't it really extraordinary?"
"Perhaps I'm one of those men, mademoiselle," I said, looking straightinto her beautiful eyes; for I own she had in a measure fascinated me,even though I knew her to be an adventuress.
She burst out laughing in my face.
"Don't be absurd, M'sieur Ewart," she cried. "Fancy you! But youcertainly wouldn't fall in love with me. We are only friends--in thesame swim, as I believe you term it in English."
I was a fool. I admit it. But when one is thrown into the society of apretty woman even a chauffeur may make speeches he regrets.
So the subject dropped, and with a mock curtsey and a saucy wave of thehand, she went to her room.
On the following day she went out alone at eleven, not returning untilsix. She offered no explanation of where she had been, and of course itwas not for me to question her. As we sat at dinner in our private_salle-a-manger_ an hour later she laughed at me across the table, anddeclared that I was sitting as soberly as though I really were herdutiful husband. And next day she was absent again the whole day, whileI amused myself in visiting the Law Courts, the picture galleries, andthe general sights of the little capital of which Messieurs the braveBelgians are so proud. On her return she seemed thoughtful, even_triste_. She had been on an excursion somewhere with Otto, but she didnot enlighten me regarding its details. I wondered that I had had noword from Bindo. Yet he had told me to obey Valentine's instructions,and I was now doing so. At dinner she once clenched her little handinvoluntarily, and drew a deep breath, showing me that she was indignantat something.
The following morning, as she mentioned that she should be absent allday, I took a run on the car as far as the quaint little town of Dinant,up the Meuse, getting back to dinner.
In the salon she met me, already in her dinner-gown, and told me thatshe had invited Otto to dine.
"To-night you must show your jealousy. You must leave us together here,in the salon, after dinner, and then a quarter of an hour later returnsuddenly. I will compromise him. Then you will quarrel violently, orderhim to leave the hotel, and thus part bad friends."
I hardly liked to be a party to such a trick, yet the whole plotinterested me. I could not see to what material end all this tended.
Well, the gay Captain duly arrived, and we dined together merrily. Hiseyes were fixed admiringly upon Valentine the whole time, and hisconversation was mainly reminiscent of the days at Vichy. The meal over,we passed into the salon, and there I left them. But on re-enteringshortly afterwards I found him standing behind the couch, bending overand kissing her. She had her arms clasped around his neck so tightlythat he could not disengage himself.
In pretended fury I dashed across to the pair with my fists clenchedin jealous anger. What I said I scarce remember. All I know is thatI let forth a torrent of reproaches and condemnations, and ended bypractically kicking the fellow out of the room, while my "wife" sankupon her knees and implored my forgiveness, which I flatly refused.
The Captain took his kicking in silence, but in his glance was murder,as he turned once and faced me ere he left the room.
"Well, Valentine," I asked, when he was safely out of hearing, and whenshe had raised herself from her knees laughing. "And what now?"
"The whole affair is now plain sailing. To-morrow you will take the carto Liege, and there await me outside the Cathedral at midnight on thefollowing night. You will easily find the place. Wait until two o'clock,and if I am not there go on to Cologne, and put up at the Hotel duNord."
"Without baggage?"
"Without baggage. Don't trouble about anything. Simply go there andwait."
At midday on the following day the pretty Valentine dressed herselfcarefully, and went out. Then, an hour later, pretending that I was onlygoing for a short run, I mounted into the car and set out for Liege,wondering what was now to happen.
Next day I idled away, and at a quarter to twelve that night, after arun around the town, I pulled up in the shadow before the Cathedral andstopped the engines. The old square was quite quiet, for the goodLiegois retire early, and the only sound was the musical carillon of thebells.
In impatience I waited. The silent night was clear, bright, and frosty,with a myriad shining stars above. Time after time the great clock aboveme chimed the quarters, until just before two o'clock there came a darkfemale figure round the corner, walking quickly. In an instant Irecognised Valentine, who was dressed in a long travelling coat with furcollar, and a sealskin toque. She was carrying something beneath hercoat.
"Quick!" she said breathlessly. "Let us get away. Get ready. Count Bindois following me!" And ere I could start the engines, my employer, in along dark overcoat and felt hat, hurriedly approached us, saying--
"Come, let's be off, Ewart. We've a long journey to-night to Cassel. Wemust go through Aix, and pick up Blythe, and then on by way of Cologne,Arnsburg, and the Hoppeke-Tal."
Quickly they both put on the extra wraps from the car, entered, andwrapped the rugs about them, while two minutes later, with our bighead-lamps shedding a broad white light before us, we turned out uponthe wide high road to Verviers.
"It's all right," cried Bindo, leaning over to me when we had coveredabout five miles or so. "Everything went off perfectly."
"And M'sieur made a most model 'husband,' I assure you," declared thepretty Valentine, with a musical laugh.
"But what have you done?" I inquired, half turning, but afraid to takemy eyes from the road.
"Be patient. We'll explain everything when we get to Cassel," respondedValentine. And with that I had to be content.
At
the station at Aix we found Blythe awaiting us, and when he had takenthe seat beside me we set out by way of Duren to Cologne, and on toCassel, a long and bitterly cold journey.
It was not until we were dining together late the following night in thecomfortable old Koenig von Preussen, at Cassel, that Valentine revealedthe truth to me.
"When I met the German at Vichy I was passing as Countess de Bourbriac,and pretending that my husband was in Scotland. At first I avoided him,"she said. "But later on I was told, in confidence, that he was a spy inthe service of the War Office in Berlin. Then I wrote to Count Bindo,and he advised me to pretend to reciprocate the fellow's affections, andto keep a watchful eye for the main chance. I have done so--that's all."
"But what was this 'main chance'?" I asked.
"Why, don't you see, Ewart," exclaimed the Count, who was standing by,smoking a cigarette. "The fact that he was in the IntelligenceDepartment in Berlin, and that he had been suddenly appointed militaryattache at Brussels, made it plain that he was carrying out someimportant secret-service work in Belgium. On making inquiries I heardthat he was constantly travelling in the country, and, speaking Frenchso well, he was passing himself off as a Belgian. Blythe, in the guiseof an English tourist, met him in Boxtel two months ago, and satisfiedhimself as to the character of the task he had undertaken, a risky butmost important one. Then we all agreed that, when completed, the secretshe had possessed himself of should become ours, for the IntelligenceDepartment of either France or England would be certain to purchase themfor almost any sum we liked to name, so important were they. About twomonths we waited for the unsuspecting Otto to complete his work, andthen suddenly the Countess reappears, accompanied by her husband.And--well, Valentine, you can best tell Ewart the remainder of thestory," added the audacious scoundrel, replacing his cigarette in hismouth.
"As M'sieur Ewart knows, Captain Stolberg was in love with me, and Ipretended to be infatuated with him. The other night he kissed me, andmy dear 'Gaston' saw it, and in just indignation and jealousy promptlykicked him out. Next day I met him, told him that my husband was aperfect hog, and urged him to take me from him. At first he would notsacrifice his official position as attache, for he was a poor man. Thenwe talked money matters, and I suggested that he surely possessedsomething which he could turn into money sufficient to keep us for ayear or two, as I had a small income though not absolutely sufficientfor our wants. In fact, I offered, now that he had compromised me in theeyes of my husband, to elope with him. We walked in the Bois de laCambre for two solid hours that afternoon, until I was footsore, and yethe did not catch on. Then I played another game, declaring that he didnot love me sufficiently to make such a sacrifice, and at last taking adramatic farewell of him. He allowed me to get almost to the gates ofthe Bois, when he suddenly ran after me, and told me that he had apacket of documents for which he could obtain a large sum abroad. Hewould take them, and myself, to Berlin by that night's mail, and then wewould go on to St. Petersburg, where he could easily dispose of themysterious papers. So we met at the station at midnight, and by thesame train travelled Bindo and M'sieurs Blythe and Henderson. In thecarriage he told me where the precious papers were--in a small leathernhand-bag--and this fact I whispered to Blythe when he brushed past me inthe corridor. At Pepinster, the junction for Spa, we both descended toobtain some refreshment, and when we returned to our carriage theCaptain glanced reassuringly at his bag. Bindo passed along thecorridor, and I knew the truth. Then on arrival at Liege I left theCaptain smoking, and strolled to the back end of the carriage, waitingfor the train to move off. Just as it did so I sprang out upon theplatform, and had the satisfaction of seeing, a moment later, the redtail-lights of the Berlin express disappear. I fancy I saw the Captain'shead out of the window and heard him shout, but next instant he was lostin the darkness."
"As soon as you had both got out at Pepinster Blythe slipped into thecompartment, broke the lock of the bag with a special tool we call 'thesnipper,' and had the papers in a moment. These he passed on to me, andtravelled past Liege on to Aix.
"Here are the precious plans," remarked the Count, producing avoluminous packet in a big blue envelope, the seal of which had beenbroken.
And on opening this he displayed to me a quantity of carefully drawnplans of the whole canal system, and secret defences between the Rhineand the Meuse, the waterway, he explained, which one day Germany, intime of war with England, will require to use in order to get her troopsthrough to the port of Antwerp, and the Belgian coast--the firstcomplete and reliable plans ever obtained of the chain of formidabledefences that Belgium keeps a profound secret.
What sum was paid to the pretty Valentine by the French IntelligenceDepartment for them I am not aware. I only know that she one day sent mea beautiful gold cigarette-case inscribed with the words "From Liane deBourbriac," and inside it was a draft on the London branch of the CreditLyonnais for eight hundred and fifty pounds.
Captain Otto Stolberg has, I hear, been transferred as attache toanother European capital. No doubt his first thoughts were of revenge,but on mature consideration he deemed it best to keep his mouth closed,or he would have betrayed himself as a spy. Bindo had, no doubt,foreseen that. As for Valentine, she actually declares that, after all,she merely rendered a service to her country!