The Greatest Works of Marie Belloc Lowndes. Marie Belloc Lowndes
The second episode, if episode it can be called, which was to remain vividly present in the memory of the lawyer, took place on the fifth day of his stay in Paris.
He and Gerald had exhausted what seemed every possible line of enquiry, when the latter put in plain words what, in deference to his father's wish, he had hitherto tried to conceal from Mr. Stephens--his suspicions of the Poulains.
"I haven't said so to you before," he began abruptly, "but I feel quite sure that this Mr. John Dampier is dead."
He spoke the serious words in low, impressive tones, and the words, the positive assertion, queerly disturbed Nancy's lawyer, and that though he did not in the least share in his companion's view. But still he felt disturbed, perhaps unreasonably so considering how very little he still knew of the speaker. He was indeed almost as disturbed as he would have been had it been his own son who had suddenly put forward a wrong and indeed an untenable proposition.
He turned and faced Gerald Burton squarely.
"I cannot agree with you," he spoke with considerable energy, "and I am sorry you have got such a notion in your mind. I am quite sure that John Dampier is alive. He may be in confinement somewhere, held to ransom--things of that sort have happened in Paris before now. But be that as it may, it is my firm conviction that we shall have news of him within a comparatively short time. Of course I cannot help seeing what you suspect, namely, that there has been foul play on the part of the Poulains. But no other human being holds this theory but yourself. Your father--you must forgive me for saying so--has known these people a great deal longer than you have, and he tells me he would stake everything on their substantial integrity. And the police speak very highly of them too. Besides, in this world one must look for a motive--indeed, one must always look for a motive. But in this case no one that we know--I repeat, Mr. Burton, no one that we know of--had any motive for injuring Mr. Dampier."
Gerald Burton looked up quickly:--"You mean by that there may be someone whom we do not know of who may have had a motive for spiriting him away?"
Mr. Stephens nodded curtly. He had not meant to say even so much as that.
"I want you to tell me," went on the young American earnestly, "exactly what sort of a man this John Dampier is--or was?"
The lawyer took off his spectacles; he began rubbing the glasses carefully.
"Well," he said at last, "that isn't a question I find it easy to answer. I made a certain number of enquiries about him when he became engaged to Miss Tremain, and I am bound to tell you, Mr. Burton, that the answers, as far as they went, were quite satisfactory. The gentleman in whose house the two met--I mean poor Nancy and Dampier--had, and has, an extremely high opinion of him."
"Mrs. Dampier once spoke to me as if she thought you did not like her husband?" Gerald Burton looked straight before him as he said the words he felt ashamed of uttering. And yet--and yet he did so want to know the truth as to John Dampier!
Mr. Stephens looked mildly surprised. "I don't think I ever gave her any reason to suppose such a thing," he said hesitatingly. "Mr. Dampier was eager, as all men in love are eager, to hasten on the marriage. You see, Mr. Burton"--he paused, and Gerald looked up quickly:--
"Yes, Mr. Stephens?"
"Well, to put it plainly, John Dampier was madly in love"--the speaker thought his companion winced, and, rather sorry than glad at the success of his little ruse, he hurried on:--"that being so he naturally wished to be married at once. But an English marriage settlement--especially when the lady has the money, which was the case with Miss Tremain--cannot be drawn up in a few days. Nancy herself was willing to assent to everything he wished; in fact I had to point out to her that it is impossible to get engaged on Monday and married on Tuesday! I suppose she thought that because I very properly objected to some such scheme of theirs, I disliked John Dampier. This was a most unreasonable conclusion, Mr. Burton!"
Gerald Burton felt disappointed. He did not believe that the English lawyer was answering truly. He did not stay to reflect that Mr. Stephens was not bound to answer indiscreet questions, and that when a young man asks an older man whether or no he dislikes someone, and that someone is a client, the question is certainly indiscreet.
In a small way the painful mystery was further complicated by the attitude of Mère Bideau. Bribes and threats were alike unavailing to make the old Breton woman open her mouth. She was full of suspicion; she refused to answer the simplest questions put to her by either Mr. Stephens or Gerald Burton.
And the lawyer felt a moment of sharp impatience, as business men are so often apt to feel in their dealings with women, when, in answer to his remark that Mère Bideau would be brought to her knees when she found her supplies cut off, Nancy, with tears running down her cheeks, cried out in protest:--"Oh, Mr. Stephens, don't say that! I would far rather go on paying the old woman for ever than that she should be brought, as you say, to her knees. She was such a good servant to Jack: he is--he was--so fond of her."
But Mère Bideau's attitude greatly disconcerted and annoyed the Englishman. He wondered if the old woman knew more than she would admit; he even suspected her of knowing the whereabouts of her master; the more impenetrable became the mystery, the less Mr. Stephens believed Dampier to be dead.
And then, finally, on the last day of his stay in Paris something happened which, to the lawyer's mind, confirmed his view that John Dampier, having vanished of his own free will, was living and well--though he hoped not happy--away from the great city which had been searched, or so the police assured the Englishman, with a thoroughness which had never been surpassed if indeed it had ever been equalled.
Chapter XIII
With Mr. Stephens' morning coffee there appeared an envelope bearing his name and a French stamp, as well of course as the address of the obscure little hotel where the Burtons had found him a room.
The lawyer looked down at the envelope with great surprise. The address was written in a round, copybook hand, and it was clear his name must have been copied out of an English law list.
Who in Paris could be writing to him--who, for the matter of that, knew where he was staying, apart from his own family and his London office?
He broke the seal and saw that the sheet of notepaper he took from the envelope was headed "Préfecture de Police." Hitherto the police had addressed all their communications to the Hôtel Saint Ange.
The letter ran as follows:
Dear Sir, I am requested by the official who has the Dampier affair in hand to ask you if you will come here this afternoon at three o'clock. As I shall be present and can act as interpreter, it will not be necessary for you to be accompanied as you were before.
Yours faithfully, Ivan Baroff.
What an extraordinary thing! Up to the present time Mr. Stephens had not communicated with a single police official able to speak colloquial English; it was that fact which had made him find Gerald Burton so invaluable an auxiliary. But this letter might have been written by an Englishman, though the signature showed it to be from a foreigner, and from a Pole, or possibly a Russian.
Were the police at last on the trail of the missing man? Mr. Stephens' well-regulated heart began to beat quicker at the thought. But if so, how strange that the Prefect of Police had not communicated with the Hôtel Saint Ange last night! Monsieur Beaucourt had promised that the smallest scrap of news should be at once transmitted to John Dampier's wife.
Well, there was evidently nothing for it but to wait with what patience he could muster till the afternoon; and it was characteristic of Nancy's legal friend that he said nothing of his mysterious appointment to either the Burtons or to Mrs. Dampier. It was useless to raise hopes which might so easily be disappointed.
Three o'clock found Mr. Stephens at the Prefecture of Police.
"Ivan Baroff" turned out to be a polished