CHAPTER XXII
"CROCHARD, L'INVINCIBLE!"
It seemed for once that Godfrey was destined to be wrong, for thedays passed and nothing happened--nothing, that is, in so far as thecabinet was concerned. There was an inquest, of course, over thevictim of the latest tragedy, and once again I was forced to give myevidence before a coroner's jury. I must confess that, this time, itmade me appear considerable of a fool, and the papers poked sly funat the attorney who had walked blindly into a trap which, now that itwas sprung, seemed so apparent.
The Bertillon measurements of the victim had been cabled to Paris,and he had been instantly identified as a fellow named Morel,well-known to the police as a daring and desperate criminal; in fact,M. Lepine considered the matter so important that he cabled next daythat he was sending Inspector Pigot to New York to investigate theaffair further, and to confer with our bureau as to the best methodsto be taken to apprehend the murderer. Inspector Pigot, it was added,would sail at once for Havre on _La Savoie._
Meanwhile, Grady's men, with Simmonds at their head, strained everynerve to discover the whereabouts of the fugitive; a net was thrownover the entire city, but, while a number of fish were captured, theone which the police particularly wished for was not among them. Nota single trace of the fugitive was discovered; he had vanishedabsolutely, and, after a day or two, Grady asserted confidently thathe had left New York.
For Grady had come back into the case again, goaded by the papers,particularly by the _Record_, to efforts which he must haveconsidered superhuman. The remarkable nature of the mystery, itspicturesque and unique features, the fact that three men had beenkilled within a few days in precisely the same manner, and theabsence of any reasonable hypothesis to explain these deaths--allthis served to rivet public attention. Every amateur detective in thecountry had a theory to exploit--and far-fetched enough most of themwere!
Grady did a lot of talking in those days, explaining in detail theremarkable measures he was taking to capture the criminal; but thefact remained that three men had been killed, and that no one hadbeen punished; that a series of crimes had been committed, and thatthe criminal was still at large, and seemed likely to remain so; and,naturally enough, the papers, having exhausted every other phase ofthe case, were soon echoing public sentiment that something was wrongsomewhere, and that the detective bureau needed an overhauling,beginning at the top.
The Boule cabinet remained locked up in a cell at the Twenty-thirdStreet station; and Simmonds kept the key in his pocket. I know nowthat he was as much in the dark concerning the cabinet as the generalpublic was; and the general public was very much in the dark indeed,for the cabinet had not figured in the accounts of the first twotragedies at all, and only incidentally in the reports of the latestone. As far as it was concerned, the affair seemed clear enough tomost of the reporters, as an attempt to smuggle into the country anart object of great value. Such cases were too common to attractespecial attention.
But Simmonds had come to see that Grady was tottering on his throne;he realised, perhaps, that his own head was not safe; and he had madeup his mind to pin his faith to Godfrey as the only one at all likelyto lead him out of the maze. And Godfrey laid the greatest stressupon the necessity of keeping the cabinet under lock and key; sounder lock and key it was kept. As for Grady, I do not believe that,even at the last, he realised the important part the cabinet hadplayed in the drama.
But while the Boule cabinet failed to focus the attention of thepublic, and while most of the reporters promptly forgot all about it,I was amused at the pains which Godfrey took to inform the fugitiveas to its whereabouts and as to how it was guarded. Over and overagain, while the other papers wondered at his imbecility, he told howit had been placed in the strongest cell at the Twenty-third Streetstation; a cell whose bars were made of chrome-nickle steel which nosaw could bite into; a cell whose lock was worked not only by a keybut by a combination, known to one man only; a cell isolated from theothers, standing alone in the middle of the third corridor, in fullview of the officer on guard, so that no one could approach it, dayor night, without being instantly discovered; a cell whose door wasconnected with an automatic alarm over the sergeant's desk in thefront room; a cell, in short, from which no man could possiblyescape, and which no man could possibly enter unobserved.
Of the Boule cabinet itself Godfrey said little, saving his story forthe denouement which he seemed so sure would come; but the detailswhich I have given above were dwelt upon in the _Record_, until,happening to meet Godfrey on the street one day, I protested that hewould only succeed in frightening the fugitive away altogether, evenif he still had any designs on the cabinet, which I very muchdoubted. But Godfrey only laughed.
"There's not the slightest danger of frightening him away," he said."This fellow isn't that kind. If I am right in sizing him up, he'sthe sort of dare-devil whom an insuperable difficulty only attracts.The harder the job, the more he is drawn to it. That's the reason Iam making this one just as hard as I can."
"But a man would be a fool to attempt to get to that cabinet," Iprotested. "It's simply impossible."
"It looks impossible, I'm free to admit," he agreed. "But, just thesame, I wake every morning cold with fear, and run to the 'phone tomake sure the cabinet's safe. If I could think of any furthersafeguards, I would certainly employ them."
I looked at Godfrey searchingly, for it seemed to me that he must bejesting. He smiled as he caught my glance.
"I was never more in earnest in my life, Lester," he said. "You don'tappreciate this fellow as I do. He's a genius; nothing is impossibleto him. He disdains easy jobs; when he thinks a job is too easy, hemakes it harder, just as a sporting chance. He has been known to warnpeople that they kept their jewels too carelessly, and then, afterthey had put them in a safer place, he would go and take them."
"That seems rather foolish, doesn't it?" I queried.
"Not from his point of view. He doesn't steal because he needs money,but because he needs excitement."
"You know who he is, then?" I demanded.
"I think I do--I hope I do; but I am not going to tell even you tillI'm sure. I'll say this--if he is who I think he is, it would be adelight to match one's brains with his. We haven't got any one likehim over here--which is a pity!"
I was inclined to doubt this, for I have no romantic admiration forgentlemen burglars, even in fiction. However picturesque andchivalric, a thief is, after all, a thief. Perhaps it is my trainingas a lawyer, or perhaps I am simply narrow, but crime, howeverbrilliantly carried out, seems to me a sordid and unlovely thing. Iknow quite well that there are many people who look at these thingsfrom a different angle, Godfrey is one of them.
I pointed out to him now that, if his intuitions were correct, hewould soon have a chance to match his wits with those of the GreatUnknown.
"Yes," he agreed, "and I'm scared to death--I have been ever since Ibegan to suspect his identity. I feel like a tyro going up against amaster in a game of chess--mate in six moves!"
"I shouldn't consider you exactly a tyro," I said, drily.
"It's long odds that the Great Unknown will," Godfrey retorted, andbade me good-bye.
Except for that chance meeting, I saw nothing of him, and in this Iwas disappointed, for there were many things about the whole affairwhich I did not understand. In fact, when I sat down of an eveningand lit my pipe and began to think it over, I found that I understoodnothing at all. Godfrey's theory held together perfectly, so far as Icould see, but it led nowhere. How had Drouet and Vantine beenkilled? Why had they been killed? What was the secret of the cabinet?In a word, what was all this mystery about? Not one of thesequestions could I answer; and the solutions I guessed at seemed soabsurd that I dismissed them in disgust. In the end, I found that theaffair was interfering with my work, and I banished it from my mind,turning my face resolutely away from it whenever it tried to breakinto my thoughts.
But though I could shut it out of my waking hours successfullyenough, I could not control
my sleeping ones, and my dreams becamemore and more horrible. Always there was the serpent with drippingfangs, sometimes with Armand's head, sometimes with a face unknown tome, but hideous beyond description; its slimy body glittered withinlay and arabesque; its scaly legs were curved like those of theBoule cabinet; sometimes the golden sun glittered on its foreheadlike a great eye. Over and over again I saw this monster slay itsthree victims; and always, when that was done, it raised its head andglared at me, as though selecting me for the fourth.... But I shallnot try to describe those dreams; even yet I cannot recall themwithout a shudder.
It was while I was sitting moodily in my room one night, debatingwhether or not to go to bed; weary to exhaustion and yet reluctant toresign myself to a sleep from which I knew I should wake shrieking,that a knock came at the door--a knock I recognised; and I arosejoyfully to admit Godfrey.
I could see by the way his eyes were shining that he had somethingunusual to tell me; and then, as he looked at me, his face changed.
"What's the matter, Lester?" he demanded. "You're looking fagged out.Working too hard?"
"It's not that," I said. "I can't sleep. This thing has upset mynerves, Godfrey. I dream about it--have regular nightmares."
He sat down opposite me, concern and anxiety in his face.
"That won't do," he protested. "You must go away somewhere--take arest, and a good long one."
"A rest wouldn't do me any good, as long as this mystery isunsolved," I said. "It's only by working that I can keep my mind offof it."
"Well," he smiled, "just to oblige you, we will solve it first,then."
"Do you mean you know...."
"I know who the Great Unknown is, and I'm going to tell youpresently. Day after to-morrow--Wednesday--I'll know all the rest.The whole story will be in Thursday morning's paper. Suppose youarrange to start Thursday afternoon."
I could only stare at him. He smiled as he met my gaze.
"You're looking better already," he said, "as though you were takinga little more interest in life," and he helped himself to a cigar.
"Godfrey," I protested, "I wish you would pick out somebody else topractise on. You come up here and explode a bomb just to see how highI'll jump. It's amusing to you, no doubt, and perhaps a littleinstructive; but my nerves won't stand it."
"My dear Lester," he broke in, "that wasn't a bomb; that was a simplestatement of fact."
"Are you serious?"
"Perfectly so."
"But how do you know...."
"Before I answer any questions, I want to ask you one. Did you, byany chance, mention me to the gentleman known to you as M. FelixArmand?"
"Yes," I answered, after a moment's thought; "I believe I did. I wastelling him about our trying to find the secret drawer--I mentionedyour name--and he asked who you were. I told him you were a genius atsolving mysteries."
Godfrey nodded.
"That," he said, "explains the one thing I didn't understand. Now goahead with your questions."
"You said a while ago that you would know all about this affair dayafter to-morrow."
"Yes."
"How do you know you will?"
"Because I have received a letter which sets the date," and he tookfrom his pocket a sheet of paper and handed it over to me. "Read it!"
The letter was written in pencil, in a delicate and somewhat femininehand, on a sheet of plain, unruled paper. With an astonishment whichincreased with every word, I read this extraordinary epistle:--
"_My Dear Mr. Godfrey:_
"I have been highly flattered by your interest in the affaire of the cabinet Boule, and admire most deeply your penetration in arriving at a conclusion so nearly correct regarding it. I must thank you, also, for your kindness in keeping me informed of the measures which have been taken to guard the cabinet, and which seem to me very complete and well thought out. I have myself visited the station and inspected the cell, and I find that in every detail you were correct.
"It is because I so esteem you as an adversary that I tell you, in confidence, that it is my intention to regain possession of my property on Wednesday next, and that, having done so, I shall beg you to accept a small souvenir of the occasion.
"I am, my dear sir,
"Most cordially yours,
"JACQUES CROCHARD,
"L'Invincible!"
I looked up to find Godfrey regarding me with a quizzical smile.
"Of course it's a joke," I said. Then I looked at him again. "Surely,Godfrey, you don't believe this is genuine!"
"Perhaps we can prove it," he said, quietly. "That is one reason Icame up. Didn't Armand leave a note for you the day he failed to seeyou?"
"Yes; on his card; I have it here!" and with trembling fingers, I gotout my pocket-book and drew the card from the compartment in which Ihad carefully preserved it.
One glance at it was enough. The pencilled line on the back wasunquestionably written by the same hand which wrote the letter.
"And now you know his name," Godfrey added, tapping the signaturewith his finger. "I have been certain from the first that it was he!"
I gazed at the signature without answering. I had, of course, read inthe papers many times of the Gargantuan exploits of Crochard--"TheInvincible," as he loved to call himself, and with good reason. Buthis achievements, at least as the papers described them, seemed toofantastic to be true. I had suspected more than once that he wasmerely a figment of the Parisian space-writers, a sort of reserve forthe dull season; or else that he was a kind of scape-goat saddled bythe French police with every crime which proved too much for them.Now, however, it seemed that Crochard really existed; I held hisletter in my hand; I had even talked with him--and as I rememberedthe fascination, the finish, the distinguished culture of M. FelixArmand, I understood something of the reason of his extraordinaryreputation.
"There can be no two opinions about him," said Godfrey, reaching outhis hand for the letter and sinking back in his chair to contemplateit. "Crochard is one of the greatest criminals who ever lived, fullof imagination and resource, and with a sense of humour most acute. Ihave followed his career for years--it was this fact that gave me myfirst clue. He killed a man once before, just as he killed this lastone. The man had betrayed him to the police. He was never betrayedagain."
"What a fiend he must be!" I said, with a shudder.
But Godfrey shook his head quickly.
"Don't get that idea of him," he protested earnestly. "Up to the timeof his arrival in New York, he had never killed any man except thattraitor. Him he had a certain right to kill--according to thieves'ethics, anyway. His own life has been in peril scores of times, buthe has never killed a man to save himself. Put that down to hiscredit."
"But Drouet and Vantine," I objected.
"An accident for which he was in no way responsible," said Godfreypromptly.
"You mean he didn't kill them?"
"Most certainly not. This last man he did kill was a traitor like thefirst. Crochard, I think, reasons like this; to kill an adversary istoo easy; it is too brutal; it lacks finesse. Besides, it removes theadversary. And without adversaries, Crochard's life would be of nointerest to him. After he had killed his last adversary, he wouldhave to kill himself."
"I can't understand a man like that," I said.
"Well, look at this," said Godfrey, and tapped the letter again. "Hehonours me by considering me an adversary. Does he seek to remove me?On the contrary, he gives me a handicap. He takes off his queen inorder that it may be a little more difficult to mate me!"
"But, surely, Godfrey," I protested, "you don't take that letterseriously! If he wrote it at all, he wrote it merely to throw you offthe track. If he says Wednesday, he really intends to try for thecabinet to-morrow."
"I don't think so. I told you he would think me only a tyro. And,beside him, that is all I am. Do you know where he wrote that letter,Lester? Right in the _Record_ office. That is a sheet of ou
r copypaper. He sat down there, right under my nose, wrote that letter,dropped it into my box, and walked out. And all that sometime thisevening, when the office was crowded."
"But it's absurd for him to write a letter like that, if he reallymeans it. You have only to warn the police...."
"You'll notice he says it is in confidence."
"And you're going to keep it so?"
"Certainly I am; I consider that he has paid me a high compliment. Ihave shown it to no one but you--also in confidence."
"It is not the sort of confidence the law recognises," I pointed out."To keep a confidence like that is practically to abet a felony."
"And yet you will keep it," said Godfrey cheerfully. "You see, I amgoing to do everything I can to prevent that felony. And we will seeif Crochard is really invincible!"
"I'll keep it," I agreed, "because I think the letter is just ablind. And, by the way," I added, "I have a letter from Armand & Sonconfirming the fact that their books show that the Boule cabinet wasbought by Philip Vantine. Under the circumstances, I shall have toclaim it and hand it over to the Metropolitan."
"I hope you won't disturb it until after Wednesday," said Godfrey,quickly. "I won't have any interest in it after that."
"You really think Crochard will try for it Wednesday?"
"I really do."
I shrugged my shoulders. What was the use of arguing with a man likethat?
"Till after Wednesday, then," I agreed; and Godfrey, having verifiedhis letter and secured from me the two promises he was after, bade megood-night.