CHAPTER XXI
GODFREY WEAVES A ROMANCE
I had begun to fear that Godfrey was going to disappoint me, so lateit was before his welcome knock came at my door that night. Ihastened to let him in, and I could tell by the sigh of relief withwhich he sank into a chair that he was thoroughly weary.
"It does me good to come in here occasionally and have a talk withyou, Lester," he said, accepting the cigar I offered him. "I find itrestful after a hard day," and he smiled across at me good-humouredly.
"How you keep it up I don't see," I said. "This one case has nearlygiven me nervous prostration."
"Well, I don't often strike one as strenuous as this," and he settledback comfortably. "As a matter of fact, I haven't had one for a longtime that even touches it. There is nothing really mysterious aboutmost crimes."
"This one is certainly mysterious enough," I remarked.
"What makes it mysterious," Godfrey explained, "is the apparent lackof motive. As soon as one learns the motive for a crime, one learnsalso who committed it. But where the motive can't be discovered, itis mighty hard to make any progress."
"It isn't only lack of motive which makes it mysterious," Icommented; "it's everything about it. I can't understand either whyit was done or how it was done. When I get to thinking about it, Ifeel as though I were wandering around and around in a maze, fromwhich I can never escape."
"Oh, yes, you'll escape, Lester," said Godfrey, quietly, "and thatbefore very long."
"If you have an explanation, Godfrey," I protested, "for heaven'ssake tell me! Don't keep me in the maze an instant longer than isnecessary. I've been thinking about it till my brain feels like asnarl of tangled thread. Do you mean to say you know what it is allabout?"
"'Know' is perhaps a little strong. There isn't much in this worldthat we really know. Suppose we say that I strongly suspect." Hepaused a moment, his eyes on the ceiling. "You know you've accused meof romancing sometimes, Lester--the other evening, for instance; yetthat romance has come true."
"I take it all back," I said, meekly.
"There's another thing these talks do," continued Godfrey, going offrather at a tangent, "and that is to clarify my ideas. You don't knowhow it helps me to state my case to you and to try to answer yourobjections. Your being a lawyer makes you unusually quick to seeobjections, and a lawyer is always harder to convince of a thing thanthe ordinary man. You are accustomed to weighing evidence; and so Inever allow myself to be convinced of a theory until I have convincedyou. Not always, even then," he added, with a smile.
"Well, I'm glad I'm of some use," I said, "if it is only as a sort offile for you to sharpen your wits on. So please go ahead and romancesome more. Tell me first how you and Simmonds came to be followingArmand."
"Simply because I had found out he wasn't Armand. Felix Armand is inParis at this moment. You were too credulous, Lester."
"Why, I never had any doubt of his being Armand," I stammered. "Heknew about my cablegram--he knew about the firm's answer...."
"Of course he did, because your cable was never received by theArmands, but by a confederate in this fellow's employ; and it wasthat confederate who answered it. Our friend, the unknown, foresaw,of course, that a cable would be sent the Armands as soon as themistake was discovered, and he took his precautions accordingly."
"Then you still believe that the cabinet was sent to Vantine bydesign and not by accident?"
"Absolutely. It was sent by the Armands in good faith, because theybelieved that it had been purchased by Vantine--all of which had beenarranged very carefully by the Great Unknown."
"Tell me how you know all this, Godfrey," I said.
"Why, it was easy enough. When you told me yesterday of Armand, Iknew, or thought I knew, that it was a plant of some kind. But, inorder to be sure, I cabled our man at Paris to investigate. Our manwent at once to Armand, _pere_, and he learned a number of veryinteresting things. One was, that the son, Felix Armand, was inParis; another was that no member of the firm knew anything aboutyour cable or the answer to it; a third was, that, had the cablebeen received, it would not have been understood, because theArmands' books show that this cabinet was bought by Philip Vantinefor the sum of fifteen thousand francs."
"Not this one!" I protested.
"Yes; this one. And it was cheap at the price. Of course, the Armandsknew nothing about the Montespan story--they were simply selling at aprofit."
"But I don't understand!" I stammered. "Vantine told me himself thathe did not buy that cabinet."
"Nor did he. But somebody bought it in his name and directed that itbe sent forward to him."
"And paid fifteen thousand francs for it?"
"Certainly--and paid fifteen thousand francs to the Armands."
"Rather an expensive present," I said, feebly, for my brain wasbeginning to whirl again.
"Oh, it wasn't intended as a present. The purchaser planned toreclaim it--but Vantine's death threw him out. If it hadn't been forthat--for an accident which no one could foresee--everything wouldhave gone along smoothly and no one would ever have been the wiser."
"But what was his object? Was he trying to evade the duty?"
"Oh, nothing so small as that! Besides, he would have had to refundthe duty to Vantine. Did he refund it to you?"
"No," I said, "I didn't think there was any to refund. Vantine reallypaid the duty only on the cabinet he purchased, since that was theone shown on his manifest. The other fellow must have paid the dutyon the cabinet he brought in; so I didn't see that there was anythingcoming to Vantine's estate. There is probably something due thegovernment, for the cabinet Vantine brought in was, of course, muchmore valuable than his manifest showed."
"No doubt of that; and the other cabinet is the one which Vantinereally purchased. It was, of course, sent forward to this otherfellow's address, here in New York. His plan is evident enough--tocall upon Vantine, as the representative of the Armands, or perhapsas the owner of the Montespan cabinet, and make the exchange.Vantine's death spoiled that, and he had to make the exchange throughyou. Even then, he would have been able to pull it off but for thefact that Vantine's death and that of Drouet had called our attentionto the cabinet; we followed him, and the incidents of this afternoonensued."
"And he accomplished all this by means of a confederate in the employof the Armands?"
"No doubt of it. The clerk who made the supposed sale to Vantine andgot a commission on it, resigned suddenly two days ago--just as soonas he had intercepted your cable and answered it. The Paris policeare looking for him, but I doubt if they'll find him."
I paused to think this over; and then a sudden impatience seized me.
"That's all clear enough," I said. "The cabinets might have beenexchanged just as you say they were--no doubt you are right--but allthat doesn't lead us anywhere. Why were they exchanged? What is thereabout that Boule cabinet which makes this unknown willing to domurder for it? Does he think those letters are still in it?"
"He knows they are not in it now--you told him. Before that, he knewnothing about the letters. If he had known of them, he would have hadthem out before the cabinet was shipped."
"What is it, then?" I demanded. "And, above all, Godfrey, why shouldthis fellow hide himself in Vantine's house and kill two men? Didthey surprise him while he was working over the cabinet?"
"I see no reason to believe that he was ever inside the Vantinehouse," said Godfrey quietly; "that is, until you took him thereyourself this afternoon."
"But, look here, Godfrey," I protested, "that's nonsense. He musthave been in the house, or he couldn't have killed Vantine andDrouet."
"Who said he killed them?"
"If he didn't kill them, who did?"
Godfrey took two or three contemplative puffs, while I sat therestaring at him.
"Well," Godfrey answered, at last, "now I'm going to romance alittle. We will return to your fascinating friend, Armand, as we mayas well call him for the present. He is an extraordinary man."
"No doubt of it," I agreed.
"I can only repeat what I have said before--in my opinion, he is thegreatest criminal of modern times."
"If he is a criminal at all, he is undoubtedly a great one," Iconceded. "But it is hard for me to believe that he is a criminal.He's the most cultured man I ever met."
"Of course he is. That's why he's so dangerous. An ignorant criminalis never dangerous--it's the ignorant criminals who fill the prisons.But look out for the educated, accomplished ones. It takes brains tobe a great criminal, Lester, and brains of a high order."
"But why should a man with brains be a criminal?" I queried. "If hecan earn an honest living, why should he be dishonest?"
"In the first place, most criminals are criminals from choice, notfrom necessity; and with a cultured man the incentive is usually theexcitement of it. Have you ever thought what an exciting game it is,Lester, to defy society, to break the law, to know that the oddsagainst you are a thousand to one, and yet to come out triumphant?And then, I suppose, every great criminal is a little insane."
"No doubt of it," I agreed.
"Just as every absolutely honest man is a little insane," went onGodfrey quickly. "Just as every great reformer and enthusiast is alittle insane. The sane men are the average ones, who are fairlyhonest and yet tell white lies on occasion, who succumb to temptationnow and then; who temporise and compromise, and try to lead acomfortable and quiet life. I repeat, Lester, that this fellow is agreat criminal, and that he finds life infinitely more engrossingthan either you or I. I hope I shall meet him some time--not in alittle skirmish like this, but in an out-and-out battle. Of courseI'd be routed, horse, foot and dragoons--but it certainly would beinteresting!" and he looked at me, his eyes glowing.
"It certainly would!" I agreed. "Go ahead with your romance."
"Here it is. This M. Armand is a great criminal, and has, of course,various followers, upon whom he must rely for the performance ofcertain details, since he can be in but one place at a time. Abjectand absolute obedience is necessary to his success, and he compelsobedience in the only way in which it can be compelled amongcriminals--by fear. For disobedience, there is but one punishment--death. And the manner of the death is so certain and so mysteriousas to be almost supernatural. For deserters and traitors are found tohave died, inevitably and invariably, from the effects of aninsignificant wound on the right hand, just above the knuckles."
I was listening intently now, as you may well believe, for I began tosee whither the romance was tending.
"It is by this secret," Godfrey continued, "that Armand preserves hisabsolute supremacy. But occasionally the temptation is too great, andone of his men deserts. Armand sends this cabinet to America. Heknows that in this case the temptation is very great indeed; he fearstreachery, and he arranges in the cabinet a mechanism which willinflict death upon the traitor in precisely the same way in which hehimself inflicts it--by means of a poisoned stab in the right hand.Imagine the effect upon his gang. He is nowhere near when the act oftreachery is performed, and yet the traitor dies instantly andsurely! Why, it was a tremendous idea! And it was carried out withabsolute genius."
"But," I questioned, "what act of treachery was it that Armandfeared?"
"The opening of the secret drawer."
"Then you still believe in the poisoned mechanism?"
"I certainly do. The tragedy of this afternoon proves the truth ofthe theory."
"I don't see it," I said, helplessly.
"Why, Lester," protested Godfrey, "it's as plain as day. Who was thatbearded giant who was killed? The traitor, of course. We will findthat he was a member of Armand's gang. He followed Armand to America,lay in wait for him, caught him in the net and bound him hand andfoot. Do you suppose for an instant that Armand was ignorant of hispresence in that house? Do you suppose he would have been able totake Armand prisoner if Armand had not been willing that he should?"
"I don't see how Armand could help himself after that fellow got hishands on him."
"You don't? And yet you saw yourself that he was not really bound--that he had cut himself loose!"
"That is true," I said, thoughtfully.
"Let us reconstruct the story," Godfrey went on rapidly. "The traitordiscovers the secret of the cabinet; he follows Armand to New York,shadows him to the house on Seventh Avenue, waits for him there, andseizes and binds him. He is half mad with triumph--he chants a crazysing-song about revenge, revenge, revenge! And, in order that thetriumph may be complete, he does not kill his prisoner at once. Herolls him into a corner and proceeds to rip away the burlap. Histriumph will be to open the secret drawer before Armand's eyes. AndArmand lies there in the corner, his eyes gleaming, because it isreally the moment of _his_ triumph which is at hand!"
"The moment of his triumph?" I repeated. "What do you mean by that,Godfrey?"
"I mean that, the instant the traitor opened the drawer, he would bestabbed by the poisoned mechanism! It was for that that Armandwaited!"
I lay back in my chair with a gasp of amazement and admiration. I hadbeen blind not to see it! Armand had merely to lie still and permitthe traitor to walk into the trap prepared for him. No wonder hiseyes had glowed as he lay there watching that frenzied figure at thecabinet!
"It was not until the last moment," Godfrey went on, "when thetraitor was bending above the cabinet feeling for the spring, that Irealised what was about to happen. There was no time for hesitation--I sprang into the room. Armand vanished in an instant, and thegiant also tried to escape; but I caught him at the door. I had noidea of his danger; I had no thought that Armand would dare linger.And yet he did. Now that it is too late, I understand. He _had_ tokill that man; there were no two ways about it. Whatever the risk, hehad to kill him."
"But why?" I asked. "Why?"
"To seal his lips. If we had captured him, do you suppose Armand'ssecret would have been safe for an instant? So he had to kill him--hehad to kill him with the poisoned barb--and he _did_ kill him, andgot away into the bargain! Never in my life have I felt so like afool as when that door was slammed in my face!"
"Perhaps he had that prepared, too," I suggested timidly, ready tobelieve anything of this extraordinary man. "Perhaps he knew that wewere there, all the time."
"Of course he did," assented Godfrey grimly. "Why else would there bea snap-lock on the outside of the door? And to think I didn't see it!To think that I was fool enough to suppose that I could follow himabout the streets of New York without his knowing it! He knew fromthe first that he might be followed, and prepared for it!"
"But it's incredible!" I protested feebly. "It's incredible!"
"Nothing is incredible in connection with that man!"
"But the risk--think of the risk he ran!"
"What does he care for risks? He despises them--and rightly. He gotaway, didn't he?"
"Yes," I said, "he got away; there's no question of that, I guess."
"Well, that is the story of this afternoon's tragedy, as I understandit," proceeded Godfrey, more calmly. "And now I'm going to leave you.I want you to think it over. If it doesn't hold together, show mewhere it doesn't. But it _will_ hold together--it _has_ to--becauseit's true!"
"But how about Armand?" I protested. "Aren't you going to try tocapture him? Are you going to let him get away?"
"He won't get away!" and Godfrey's eyes were gleaming again. "Wedon't have to search for him; for we've got our trap, Lester, andit's baited with a bait he can't resist--the Boule cabinet!"
"But he knows it's a trap."
"Of course he knows it!"
"And you really think he will walk into it?" I asked incredulously.
"I know he will! One of these days, he will try to get that cabinetout of the steel cell at the Twenty-third Street station, in which wehave it locked!"
I shook my head.
"He's no such fool," I said. "No man is such a fool as that. He'llgive it up and go quietly back to Paris."
"Not if he's the man I think he is," said Godfrey, h
is hand on thedoor. "He will never give up! Just wait, Lester; we shall know in aday or two which of us is a true prophet. The only thing I am afraidof," he added, his face clouding, "is that he'll get away with thecabinet, in spite of us!"
And he went away down the hall, leaving me staring after him.