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T H E T R I U M P H S
O F E U G E N E V A L M O N T
(1906)
______
by Robert Barr (1850 - 1912)
(These first three chapters were originally published as a single
short story, "The mystery of the five hundred diamonds" in _The
Windsor Magazine_ in 1904)
CHAPTER I
THE FINDING OF THE FATED FIVE HUNDRED
WHEN I say I am called Valmont, the name will
convey no impression to the reader one way or another.
My occupation is that of private detective in London,
but if you ask any policeman in Paris who Valmont
was he will likely be able to tell you, unless he
is a recent recruit. If you ask him where Valmont is
now, he may not know, yet I have a good deal to do with
the Parisian police.
For a period of seven years I was chief detective to
the Government of France, and if I am unable to prove
myself a great crime hunter, it is because the record of
my career is in the secret archives of Paris.
I may admit at the outset that I have no grievances
to air. The French Government considered itself justi-
fied in dismissing me, and did so. In this action it
was quite within its right, and I should be the last to
dispute that right; but, on the other hand, I consider
myself justified in publishing the following account of
what actually occurred, especially as so many false
rumours have been put abroad concerning the case. How-
ever, as I said at the beginning, I hold no grievance,
because my worldly affairs are now much more prosperous
than they were in Paris, my intimate knowledge of
that city and the country of which it is the capital
bringing to me many cases with which I have dealt more or
less successfully since I established myself in London.
Without further preliminary I shall at once plunge
into an account of the case which riveted the attention
of the whole world a little more than a decade ago.
The year 1893 was a prosperous twelve months for
France. The weather was good, the harvest excellent,
and the wine of that vintage is celebrated to this day.
Everyone was well off and reasonably happy, a marked
contrast to the state of things a few years later, when
dissension over the Dreyfus case rent the country in
twain.
Newspaper reader may remember that in 1893 the
Government of France fell heir to an unexpected treasure
which set the civilized world agog, especially those
inhabitants of it who are interested in historical relics.
This was the finding of the diamond necklace in the
Chateau de Chaumont, where it had rested undiscovered
for a century in a rubbish heap of an attic. I believe it
has not been questioned that this was the veritable neck-
lace which the court jeweler, Boehmer, hoped to sell to
Marie Antoinette, although how it came to be in the
Chateau de Chaumont no one has been able to form even
a conjecture. For a hundred years it was supposed that
the necklace had been broken up in London, and its
half a thousand stones, great and small, sold separately.
It has always seemed strange to me that the Countess
de Lamotte-Valois, who was thought to have profited by
the sale of these jewels, should not have abandoned
France if she possessed money to leave that country, for
exposure was inevitable if she remained. Indeed, the
unfortunate woman was branded and imprisoned, and
afterwards was dashed to death from the third story of
a London house, when, in the direst poverty, she sought
escape from the consequences of the debts she had
incurred.
I am not superstitious in the least, yet this
celebrated piece of treasure-trove seems actually to
have exerted a malign influence over everyone who had the
misfortune to be connected with it. Indeed, in a small
way, I who write these words suffered dismissal and
disgrace, though I caught but one glimpse of this dazzling
scintil-lation of jewels. The jeweler who made the neck-
lace met financial ruin; the Queen for whom it was con-
structed was beheaded; that high-horn Prince Louis
Rene Edouard, Cardinal de Rohan, who purchased it,
was flung into prison; the unfortunate countess, who
said she acted as go-between until the transfer was con-
cluded, clung for five awful minutes to a London win-
dow sill before dropping to her death to the flags below;
and now, a hundred and eight years later, up comes this
devil's display of fireworks to the light again!
Drouilliard, the workingman who found the ancient
box, seems to have pried it open, and ignorant though
he was - he had probably never seen a diamond in his
life before - realized that a fortune was in his grasp.
The baleful glitter from the combination must have sent
madness into his brain, working havoc therein as though
the shafts of brightness were those mysterious rays
which scientists have recently discovered. He might
quite easily have walked through the main gate of the
chateau unsuspected and unquestioned with the dia-
monds concealed about his person, but instead of this
he crept from the attic window on to the steep roof,
slipped to the eaves, fell to the ground, and lay dead
with a broken neck, while the necklace, intact, shim-
mered in the sunlight beside his body.
No matter where these jewels had been found the
Government would have insisted that they belonged to
the treasury of the Republic; but as the Chateau de
Chaumont was an historical monument, and the property
of France, there could be no question regarding the
ownership of the necklace. The Government at once
claimed it, and ordered it to be sent by a trustworthy
military man to Paris. It was carried safely and de-
livered promptly to the authorities by Alfred Dreyfus,
a young captain of artillery, to whom its custody had
been intrusted.
In spite of its fall from the tall tower neither case
nor jewels were perceptibly damaged. The lock of the
box had apparently been forced by Droulliard's hatchet,
or perhaps by the clasp-knife found on his body. On
reaching the ground the lid had flown open, and the
necklace was thrown out.
I believe there was some discussion in the cabinet
regarding the fate of this ill-omened trophy, one section
wishing it to be placed in a museum on account of its
historical interest, another advocating the breaking up
of the necklace and the selling of the diamonds for
what they would fetch. But a third party maintained
that the method to get the most money into the coffers
of the country was to sell the necklace as it stood, for
as the world now contains so many rich amateurs who col-
lect undoubted rarities, regardless of expense, the his-
toric associations of the jeweled collar would enhance
the intrinsic value of the stones; and, this view prevail-
ing, it was announced that the necklace would be sold
by auction a month later in the rooms of Meyer, Renault
& Co., in the Boulevard des Italiens, near the Bank of
the Credit-Lyonnais.
This announcement elicited much comment from the
newspapers of all countries, and it seemed that, from a
financial point of view at least, the decision of the Gov-
ernment had been wise, for it speedily became evident
that a notable coterie of wealthy buyers would be con-
gregated in Paris on the thirteenth (unlucky day for
me!) when the sale was to take place. But we of the
inner circle were made aware of another result some-
what more disquieting, which was that the most expert
criminals in the world were also gathering like vultures
upon the fair city. The honor of France was at stake.
Whoever bought that necklace must be assured of a safe
conduct out of the country. We might view with
equanimity whatever happened afterwards, but while he
was a resident of France his life and property must not
be endangered. Thus it came about that I was given
full authority to insure that neither murder nor theft
nor both combined should be committed while the pur-
chaser of the necklace remained within our boundaries,
and for this purpose the police resources of France were
placed unreservedly at my disposal. If I failed there
should be no one to blame but myself; consequently, as
I have remarked before, I do not complain of my dis-
missal by the Government.
The broken lock of the jewer case had been very
deftly repaired by an expert locksmith, who in executing
his task was so unfortunate as to scratch a finger on the
broken metal, whereupon blood poisoning set in, and
although his life was saved, he was dismissed from the
hospital with his right arm gone and his usefulness
destroyed.
When the jeweler Boehmer made the necklace he
asked eight hundred thousand dollars for it, but after
years of disappointment he was content to sell it to
Cardinal de Rohan for three hundred and twenty thou-
sand dollars, to be liquidated in three installments, not
one of which was ever paid. This latter amount was
probably somewhere near the value of the five hundred
and sixteen separate stones, one of which was of tre-
mendous size, a very monarch of diamonds, holding its
court among seventeen brilliants each as large as a
filbert. This iridescent concentration of wealth was, as
one might say, placed in my care, and I had to see to it
that no harm came to the necklace or to its prospective
owner until they were safely across the boundaries of
France.
The four weeks previous to the thirteenth proved a
busy and anxious time for me. Thousands, most of
whom were actuated by mere curiosity, wished to view
the diamonds. We were compelled to discriminate, and
sometimes discriminated against the wrong person,
which caused unpleasantness. Three distinct attempts
were made to rob the safe, but luckily these criminal
efforts were frustrated, and so we came unscathed to the
eventful thirteenth of the month.
The sale was to begin at two o'clock, and on the
morning of that day I took the somewhat tyrannical
precaution of having the more dangerous of our own
malefactors, and as many of the foreign thieves as I
could trump up charges against, laid by the heels. Yet
I knew very well it was not these rascals I had most to
fear, but the suave, well-groomed gentlemen, amply sup-
plied with unimpeachable credentials, stopping at our
fine hotels and living like princes. Many of these were
foreigners against whom we could prove nothing, and
whose arrest might land us into temporary international
difficulties. Nevertheless, I had each of them shadowed,
and on the morning of the thirteenth if one of them had
even disputed a cab fare I should have had him in prison
half an hour later, and taken the consequences; but these
gentlemen are very shrewd and do not commit mistakes.
I made up a list of all the men in the world who were
able or likely to purchase the necklace. Many of them
would not be present in person at the auction rooms;
their bidding would be done by agents. This simplified
matters a good deal, for the agents kept me duly in-
formed of their purposes, and, besides, an agent who
handles treasure every week is an adept at the business,
and does not need the protection which must surround
an amateur, who in nine cases out of ten has but scant
idea of the dangers that threaten him, beyond knowing
that if he goes down a dark street in a dangerous quarter
he is likely to be maltreated and robbed.
There were no less than sixteen clients all told, whom
we learned were to attend personally on the day of the
sale, any one of whom might well have made the pur-
chase. The Marquis of Warlingham and Lord Oxtead
from England were well-known jewel fanciers, while at
least half a dozen millionaires were expected from the
United States, with a smattering from Germany, Aus-
tria, and Russia, and one each from Italy, Belgium, and
Holland.
Admission to the auction rooms was allowed by ticket
only, to be applied for at least a week in advance, ap-
plications to be accompanied by satisfactory testimonials.
It would possibly have surprised many of the rich men
collected there to know that they sat cheek by jowl with
some of the most noted thieves of England and America,
but I allowed this for two reasons: first, I wished to
keep these sharpers under my own eye until I knew who had
bought the necklace; and, secondly, I was desirous that
they should not know they were suspected.
I stationed trusty men outside on the Boulevard des
Italiens, each of whom knew by sight most of the probable
purchasers of the necklace. It was arranged that
when the sale was over I should walk out to the boulevard
alongside the man who was the new owner of the
diamonds, and from that moment until he quitted France
my men were not to lose sight of him if he took personal
custody of the stones, instead of doing the sensible and
proper thing of having them insured and forwarded to
his residence by some responsible transit company, or
depositing them in the bank. In fact, I took every pre-
caution that occurred to me. All police Paris was on the
"qui vive," and felt itself pitted against the
scoundrelism of the world.
For one reason or another it was nearly half past
two before the sale began. There had been considerable
delay because of forged tickets, and, indeed, each order
for admittance was so closely scrutinized that this in
itself took a good deal more time that we anticipated.
Every chair was occupied, and still a number of the visi-
tors were compelled to stand. I stationed myself by the
swinging doors at the entrance end of the hall, where I
could command a view of the entire assemblage. Some
of my men were placed wlth backs against the wall, while
others were distributed among the chairs, all in plain
clothes. During the sale the diamonds themselves were
not displayed, but the box containing them rested in
front of the auctioneer, and three policemen in uniform
stood guard on either side.
CHAPTER II
THE SCENE IN THE SALE ROOM
Very quietly the auctioneer began by saying that
there was no need for him to expatiate on the noble
character of the treasure he was privileged to offer
for sale, and with this preliminary he requested
those present to bid. Some one offered twenty thousand
francs, which was received with much laughter; then
the bidding went steadily on until it reached nine hundred
thousand francs, which I knew to be less than half
the reserve the Government had placed upon the necklace.
The contest advanced more slowly until the million
and a half was touched, and there it hung fire for a
time, while the auctioneer remarked that this sum did
not equal that which the maker of the necklace had
finally been forced to accept for it. After another pause
he added that, as the reserve was not exceeded, the neck-
lace would be withdrawn and probably never again
offered for sale. He therefore urged those who were
holding back to make their bids now. At this the con-
test livened until the sum of two million three hundred
thousand francs had been offered, and now I knew the
necklace would be sold. Nearing the three million mark
the competition thinned down to a few dealers from
Hamburg and the Marquis of Warlingham, from England,
when a voice that had not yet been heard in the
auction room was lifted in a tone of some impatience:
"One million dollars!"
There was an instant hush, followed by the scribbling
of pencils, as each person present reduced the sum
to its equivalent in his own currency - pounds for the
English, francs for the French, marks for the German,
and so on. The aggressive tone and the clear-cut face
of the bidder proclaimed him an American, not less than
the financial denomination he had used. In a moment
it was realized that his bid was a clear leap of more
than two million francs, and a sigh went up from the
audience as if this settled it, and the great sale was
done. Nevertheless the auctioneer's hammer hovered
over the lid of his desk, and he looked up and down the
long line of faces turned toward him. He seemed reluctant
to tap the board, but no one ventured to compete
against this tremendous sum, and with a sharp click
the mallet fell.
"What name?" he asked, bending over toward the
customer.
"Cash," replied the American; "here's a cheque for
the amount. I'll take the diamonds with me."
"Your request is somewhat unusual," protested the
auctioneer mildly.
"I know what you mean," interrupted the American;
"you think the cheque may not be cashed. You
will notice it is drawn on the Credit-Lyonnais, which is
practically next door. I must have the jewels with me.
Send round your messenger with the cheque; it will take
only a few minutes to find out whether or not the money
is there to meet it. The necklace is mine, and I insist
on having it."
The auctioneer with some demur handed the cheque
to the representative of the French Government who
was present, and this official himself went to the bank.
There were some other things to be sold, and the auctioneer
endeavoured to go on through the list, but no one
paid the slightest attention to him.
Meanwhile I was studying the countenance of the
man who had made the astounding bid, when I should
instead have adjusted my preparations to meet the new
conditions now confronting me. Here was a man about
whom we knew nothing whatever. I had come to the
instant conclusion that he was a prince of criminals, and
that a sinister design, not at that moment fathomed by
me, was on foot to get possession of the jewels. The
handing up of the cheque was clearly a trick of some
sort, and I fully expected the official to return and say
the draft was good. I determined to prevent this man
from getting the jewel box until I knew more of his
game. Quickly I removed from my place near the door
to the auctioneer's desk, having two objects in view
first, to warn the auctioneer not to part with the treasure
too easily; and, second, to study the suspected man at
closer range. Of all evil-doers the American is most to
be feared; he uses more ingenuity in the planning of his
projects, and will take greater risks in carrying them
out than any other malefactor on earth.
From my new station I saw there were two men to
deal with. The bidder's face was keen and intellectual;
his hands refined, ladylike, clean, and white, showing
they were long divorced from manual labour, if indeed
they had ever done any useful work. Coolness and im-
perturbability were his beyond a doubt. The companion
who sat at his right was of an entirely different stamp.
His hands were hairy and sun-tanned; his face bore the
stamp of grim determination and unflinching bravery.
I knew that these two types usually hunted in couples -
the one to scheme, the other to execute, and they always
formed a combination dangerous to encounter and difficult
to circumvent.
There was a buzz of conversation up and down the
hall as these two men talked together in low tones. I
knew now that I was face to face with the most hazardous
problem of my life.
I whispered to the auctioneer, who bent his head to
listen. He knew very well who I was, of course.
"You must not give up the necklace," I began.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I am under the orders of the official from the Ministry
of the Interior. You must speak to him."
"I shall not fail to do so," I replied. "Nevertheless,
do not give up the box too readily."
"I am helpless," he protested with another shrug.
"I obey the orders of the Government."
Seeing it was useless to parley further with the auc-
tioneer, I set my wits at work to meet the new emergency.
I felt convinced that the cheque would prove to
be genuine, and that the fraud, wherever it lay, might
not be disclosed in time to aid the authorities. My duty,
therefore, was to make sure we lost sight of neither the
buyer nor the thing bought. Of course, I could not
arrest the purchaser merely on suspicion; besides, it
would make the Government the laughing-stock of the
world if it sold a case of jewels and immediately
placed the buyer in custody when it itself had handed
over his goods to him. Ridicule kills in France. A
breath of laughter may blow a government out of
existence in Paris much more effectually than will a
whiff of cannon smoke. My duty then was to give the
Government full warning, and never lose sight of my
man until he was clear of France; then my responsibility
ended.
I took aside one of my own men in plain clothes and
said to him:
"You have seen the American who has bought the
necklace?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Go outside quietly and station yourself
there. He is likely to emerge presently with the
jewels in his possession. You are not to lose sight of
either the man or the casket. I shall follow him and
be close behind him as he emerges, and you are to
shadow us. If he parts with the case you must be ready
at a sign from me to follow either the man or the jewels.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," he answered, and left the room.
It is ever the unforeseen that baffles us; it is easy to
be wise after the event. I should have sent two men,
and I have often thought since how admirable is the
regulation of the Italian Government which sends out its
policemen in pairs. Or I should have given my man
power to call for help, but even as it was he did only
half as well as I had a right to expect of him, and the
blunder he committed by a moment's dull-witted
hesitation - ah, well! there is no use in scolding.
After all the result might have been the same.
Just as my man disappeared between the two folding
doors the official from the Ministry of the Interior
entered. I intercepted him about halfway on his journey
from the door to the auctioneer.
"Possibly the cheque appears to be genuine," I whis-
pered to him.
"But certainly," he replied pompously. He was an
individual greatly impressed with his own importance;
a kind of character with which it is always difficult to
deal. Afterwards the Government asserted that this
official had warned me, and the utterances of an empty-
headed ass dressed in a little brief authority, as the
English poet says, were looked upon as the epitome of
wisdom.
"I advise you strongly not to hand over the necklace
as has been requested," I went on.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I am convinced the bidder is a criminal."
"If you have proof of that, arrest him."
"I have no proof at the present moment, but I request
you to delay the delivery of the goods."
"That is absurd," he cried impatiently. "The necklace
is his, not ours. The money has already been transferred
to the account of the Government; we cannot retain
the five million francs, and refuse to hand over to him
what he has bought with them," and so the man left me
left me standing there, nonplussed and anxious. The
eyes of everyone in the room had been turned on us
during our brief conversation, and now the official pro-
ceded ostentatiously up the room with a grand air of
importance; then, with a bow and flourish of the hand,
he said dramatically:
"The jewels belong to monsieur."
The two Americans rose simultaneously, the taller
holding out his hand while the auctioneer passed to him
the case he had apparently paid so highly for. The
American nonchalantly opened the box and for the first
time the electric radiance of the jewels burst upon that
audience, each member of which craned his neck to
behold it. It seemed to me a most reckless thing to do.
He examined the jewels minutely for a few moments,
then snapped the lid shut again, and calmly put the box
in his outside pocket, and I could not help noticing that
the light overcoat he wore possessed pockets made
extraordinarily large, as if on purpose for this very case.
And now this amazing man walked serenely down the
room past miscreants who joyfully would have cut his
throat for even the smallest diamond in that conglomeration;
yet he did not take the trouble to put his hand on
the pocket which contained the case, or in any way attempt
to protect it. The assemblage seemed stricken dumb
by his audacity. His friend followed closely at
his heels, and the tall man disappeared through the folding
doors. Not so the other. He turned quickly, and
whipped two revolvers out of his pockets, which he
presented at the astonished crowd. There had been a
movement on the part of everyone to leave the room, but
the sight of these deadly weapons confronting them
made each one shrink into his place again.
The man with his back to the door spoke in a loud
and domineering voice, asking the auctioneer to trans-
late what he had to say into French and German; he
spoke in English.
"These here shiners are valuable; they belong to
my friend who has just gone out. Casting no reflections
on the generality of people in this room, there are, never-
theless, half a dozen 'crooks' among us whom my
friend wishes to avoid. Now, no honest man here will
object to giving the buyer of that there trinket five clear
minutes in which to get away. It's only the 'crooks'
that can kick. I ask these five minutes as a favour, but
if they are not granted I am going to take them as a
right. Any man who moves will get shot."
"I am an honest man," I cried, "and I object. I
am chief detective of the French Government. Stand
aside; the police will protect your friend."
"Hold on, my son," warned the American, turning
one weapon directly upon me, while the other held a sort
of roving commission, pointing all over the room. "My
friend is from New York and he distrusts the police as
much as he does the grafters. You may be twenty detectives,
but if you move before that clock strikes three, I'll
bring you down, and don't you forget it.
It is one thing to face death in a fierce struggle, but,
quite another to advance coldly upon it toward the muzzle
of a pistol held so steadily that there could be no
chance of escape. The gleam of determination in the
man's eye convinced me he meant what he said. I did
not consider then, nor have I considered since, that the
next five minutes, precious as they were, would be worth
paying my life for. Apparently everyone else was of
my opinion, for none moved hand or foot until the clock
slowly struck three.
"Thank you, gentlemen," said the American, as he
vanished between the spring-doors. When I say
vanished, I mean that word and no other, because my men
outside saw nothing of this individual then or later.
He vanished as if he had never existed, and it was some
hours before we found how this had been accomplished.
I rushed out almost on his heels, as one might say,
and hurriedly questioned my waiting men. They had
all seen the tall American come out with the greatest
leisureliness and stroll toward the west. As he was
not the man any of them were looking for they paid
no further attention to him, as, indeed, is the custom
with our Parisian force. They have eyes for nothing
but what they are sent to look for, and this trait has its
drawbacks for their superiors.
I ran up the boulevard, my whole thought intent on
the diamonds and their owner. I knew my subordinate
in command of the men inside the hall would look after
the scoundrel with the pistols. A short distance up I
found the stupid fellow I had sent out, standing in a
dazed manner at the corner of the Rue Michodiere,
gazing alternately down that short street and toward
the Place de l'Opera. The very fact that he was there
furnished proof that he had failed.
"Where is the American?" I demanded.
"He went down this street, sir."
"Then why are you standing here like a fool?"
"I followed him this far, when a man came up the
Rue Michodiere, and without a word the American
handed him the jewel box, turning instantly down the
street up which the other had come. The other jumped
into a cab, and drove toward the Place de l'Opera. "
"And what did you do? Stood here like a post, I
suppose?"
"I didn't know what to do, sir. It all happened in
a moment."
"Why didn't you follow the cab?"
"I didn't know which to follow, sir, and the cab was
gone instantly while I watched the American."
"What was its number?"
"I don't know, sir."
"You clod! Why didn't you call one of our men,
whoever was nearest and leave him to shadow the American
while you followed the cab?"
"I did shout to the nearest man, sir, but he said you
told him to stay there and watch the English lord, and
even before he had spoken both American and cabman
were out of sight."
"Was the man to whom he gave the box an American
also?"
"No, sir, he was French."
"How do you know?"
"By his appearance and the words he spoke."
"I thought you said he didn't speak?"
"He did not speak to the American, sir, but he said
to the cabman, "Drive to the Madeleine as quickly as you
can."
"Describe the man."
"He was a head shorter than the American, wore a
black beard and mustache rather neatly trimmed, and
seemed to be a superior sort of artisan."
"You did not take the number of the cab. Should
you know the cabman if you saw him again?"
"Yes, sir, I think so."
Taking this fellow with me I returned to the now
nearly empty auction room and there gathered all my
men about me. Each in his notebook took down particulars
of the cabman and his passenger from the lips of my
competent spy; next I dictated a full description of the
two Americans, then scattered my men to the various
railway stations of the lines leading out of Paris, with
orders to make inquiries of the police on duty there,
and to arrest one or more of the four persons described
should they be so fortunate as to find any of them.
I now learned how the rogue with the pistols vanished
so completely as he did. My subordinate in the
auction room had speedily solved the mystery. To the
left of the main entrance of the auction room was a door
that gave private access to the rear of the premises.
As the attendant in charge confessed when questioned,
he had been bribed by the American earlier in the day to
leave this side door open and to allow the man to escape
by the goods entrance. Thus the ruffian did not appear
on the boulevard at all, and so had not been observed
by any of my men.
Taking my futile spy with me I returned to my own
office, and sent an order throughout the city that every
cabman who had been in the Boulevard des Italiens between
half past two and half past three that afternoon,
should report immediately to me. The examination
of these men proved a very tedious business indeed, but
whatever other countries may say of us, we French are
patient, and if the haystack is searched long enough
the needle will be found. I did not discover the needle
I was looking for, but I came upon one quite as
important, if not more so.
It was nearly ten o'clock at night when a cabman
answered my oft-repeated questions in the affirmative.
"Did you take up a passenger a few minutes past
three o'clock on the Boulevard des Italiens, near the
Credit-Lyonnais? Had he a short black beard? Did he
carry a small box in his hand and order you to drive
to the Madeleine?"
The cabman seemed puzzled.
"He wore a short black beard when he got out of
the cab," he replied.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I drive a closed cab, sir. When he got in he was
a smooth-faced gentleman; when he got out he wore a
short black beard."
"Was he a Frenchman?"
"No, sir; he was a foreigner, either English or
American."
"Was he carrying a box?"
"No, sir; he held in his hand a small leather bag."
"Where did he tell you to drive?"
"He told me to follow the cab in front, which had
just driven off very rapidly toward the Madeleine. In
fact, I heard the man, such as you describe, order the
other cabman to drive to the Madeleine. I had come
alongside the curb when this man held up his hand for
a cab, but the open cab cut in ahead of me. Just then my
passenger stepped up and said in French, but with a
foreign accent: "Follow that cab wherever it goes."
I turned with some inclination to my inefficient spy.
"You told me," I said, "that the American had gone
down a side street. Yet he evidently met a second
man, obtained from him the handbag, turned back, and
into the closed cab directly behind you."
"Well, sir," stammered the spy, "I could not look
in two directions at the same time. The American
certainly went down the side street, but of course I
watched the cab which contained the jewels."
"And you saw nothing of the closed cab right at your
elbow?"
"The boulevard was full of cabs, sir, and the pave-
ment crowded with passers-by, as it always is at that
hour of the day, and I have only two eyes in my head."
"I am glad to know you had that many, for I was
beginning to think you were blind."
Although I said this, I knew in my heart it was
useless to censure the poor wretch, for the fault was
entirely my own in not sending two men, and in failing to
guess the possibility of the jewels and their owner being
separated. Besides, here was a clew to my hand at last,
and no time must be lost in following it up. So I
continued my interrogation of the cabman.
"The other cab was an open vehicle, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"You succeeded in following it?"
"Oh, yes, sir. At the Madeleine the man in front
redirected the coachman, who turned to the left and drove
to the Place de la Concorde, then up the Champs Elysees
to the Arch and so down the Avenue de la Grande
Armee, and the Avenue de Neuilly, to the Pont de
Neuilly, where it came to a standstill. My fare got out,
and I saw he now wore a short black beard, which he
had evidently put on inside the cab. He gave me a
ten-franc piece, which was very satisfactory."
"And the fare you were following? What did he
do?"
"He also stepped out, paid the cabman, went down
the bank of the river and got on board a steam launch
that seemed to be waiting for him."
"Did he look behind, or appear to know that he was
being followed?"
"No, sir."
"And your fare?"
"He ran after the first man, and also went aboard
the steam launch, which instantly started down the
river."
"And that was the last you saw of them?"
"Yes, sir."
"At what time did you reach the Pont de Neuilly?"
"I do not know, sir; I was compelled to drive rather
fast, but the distance is seven or eight kilometres."
"You would do it under the hour?"
"But certainly, under the hour."
"Then you must have reached Neuilly bridge about
four o'clock?"
"It is very likely, sir."
The plan of the tall American was now perfectly clear
to me, and it comprised nothing that was contrary to
law. He had evidently placed his luggage on board the
steam launch in the morning. The handbag had contained
various materials which would enable him to disguise
himself, and this bag he had probably left in some
shop down the side street, or else some one was waiting
with it for him. The giving of the treasure to another
man was not so risky as it had at first appeared, because
he instantly followed that man, who was probably his
confidential servant. Despite the windings of the river
there was ample time for the launch to reach Havre before
the American steamer sailed on Saturday morning.
I surmised it was his intention to come alongside the
steamer before she left her berth in Havre harbour, and
thus transfer himself and his belongings unperceived
by anyone on watch at the land side of the liner.
All this, of course, was perfectly justifiable, and
seemed, in truth, merely a well-laid scheme for escaping
observation. His only danger of being tracked was
when he got into the cab. Once away from the neigh-
bourhood of the Boulevard des Italiens he was reasonably
sure to evade pursuit, and the five minutes which
his friend with the pistols had won for him afforded
just the time he needed to get so far as the Place Made-
leine , and after that everything was easy. Yet, if it had
not been for those five minutes secured by coercion, I
should not have found the slightest excuse for arresting
him. But he was accessory after the act in that
piece of illegality - in fact, it was absolutely certain
that he had been accessory before the act, and guilty of
conspiracy with the man who had presented firearms to the
auctioneer's audience, and who had interfered with an
officer in the discharge of his duty by threatening me
and my men. So I was now legally in the right if I
arrested every person on board that steam launch.
CHAPTER III
THE MIDNIGHT RACE DOWN THE SEINE
With a map of the river before me I proceeded to
make some calculations. It was now nearly ten o'clock
at night. The launch had had six hours in which to
travel at its utmost speed. It was doubtful if so
small a vessel could make ten miles an hour, even with the
current in its favour, which is rather sluggish
because of the locks and the level country. Sixty
miles would place her beyond Meulan, which is fifty-eight
miles from the Pont Royal, and, of course, a lesser
distance from the Pont de Kneel. But the navigation
of the river is difficult at all times, and almost
impossible after dark. There were chances of the boat
running aground, and then there was the inevitable delay at
the locks. So I estimated that the launch could not yet
have reached Meulan, which was less than twenty-five miles
from Paris by rail. Looking up the time table I saw there
were still two trains to Meulan, the next at 11.40. I
therefore had time to reach St. Lazaret station, and
accomplish some telegraphing before the train left.
With three of my assistants I got into a cab and
drove to the station. On arrival I sent one of my men
to hold the train while I went into the telegraph office,
cleared the wires, and got into communication with the
lock master at Meulan. He replied that no steam launch
had passed down since an hour before sunset. I then
instructed him to allow the yacht to enter the lock, close
the upper gate, let half of the water out, and hold the
vessel there until I came. I also ordered the local Meulan
police to send enough men to the lock to enforce
this command. Lastly, I sent messages all along the
river asking the police to report to me on the train the
passage of the steam launch.
The 10.25 is a slow train, stopping at every station.
However, every drawback has its compensation, and
these stoppages enabled me to receive and to send tale-
graphic messages. I was quite well aware that I might
be on a fool's errand in going to Meulan. The yacht
could have put about before it had steamed a mile, and
so returned back to Paris. There had been no time to
learn whether this was so or not if I was to catch the
10.25. Also, it might have landed its passengers anywhere
along the river. I may say at once that neither
of these two things happened, and my calculations
regarding her movements were accurate to the letter. But
a trap most carefully set may be prematurely sprung by
inadvertence, or more often by the overzeal of some
stupid ass who fails to understand his instructions, or
oversteps them if they are understood. I received a
most annoying telegram from Denouval, a lock about
thirteen miles above that of Meulan. The local policeman,
arriving at the lock, found that the yacht had just
cleared. The fool shouted to the captain to return,
threatening him with all the pains and penalties of the
law if he refused. The captain did refuse, rang on full
speed ahead, and disappeared in the darkness. Through
this well-meant blunder of an understrapper those on
board the launch had received warning that we were on
their track. I telegraphed to the lockkeeper at Denouval
to allow no craft to pass toward Paris until further
orders. We thus held the launch in a thirteen mile
stretch of water, but the night was pitch dark, and
passengers might be landed on either bank with all France
before them, over which to effect their escape in any
direction.
It was midnight when I reached the lock at Meulan,
and, as was to be expected, nothing had been seen or
heard of the launch. It gave me some satisfaction to
telegraph to that dunderhead at Denouval to walk along
the river bank to Meulan, and report if he learned
the launch's whereabouts. We took up our quarters in
the lodgekeeper's house and waited. There was little
use in sending men to scour the country at this time of
night, for the pursued were on the alert, and very
unlikely to allow themselves to be caught if they had gone
ashore. On the other hand, there was every chance that
the captain would refuse to let them land, because he
must know his vessel was in a trap from which it could
not escape, and although the demand of the policeman
at Denouval was quite unauthorized, nevertheless the
captain could not know that, while he must be well aware
of his danger in refusing to obey a command from the
authorities. Even if he got away for the moment he
must know that arrest was certain, and that his punishment
would be severe. His only plea could be that he
had not heard and understood the order to return. But
this plea would be invalidated if he aided in the escape
of two men, whom he must now know were wanted by
the police. I was therefore very confident that if his
passengers asked to be set ashore, the captain would
refuse when he had had time to think about his own
danger. My estimate proved accurate, for toward one
o'clock the lockkeeper came in and said the green and
red lights of an approaching craft were visible, and
as he spoke the yacht whistled for the opening of the
lock. I stood by the lockkeeper while he opened the
gates; my men and the local police were concealed on
each side of the lock. The launch came slowly in, and
as soon as it had done so I asked the captain to step
ashore, which he did.
"I wish a word with you," I said. "Follow me."
I took him into the lockkeeper's house and closed
the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To Havre."
"Where did you come from?"
"Paris."
"From what quay!"
"From the Pont de Kneel."
"When did you leave there?"
"At five minutes to four o'clock this afternoon."
"Yesterday afternoon, you mean?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Who engaged you to make this voyage?"
"An American; I do not know his name."
"He paid you well, I suppose?"
"He paid me what I asked."
"Have you received the money?"
"Yes, sir."
"I may inform you, captain, that I am Eugene Valmont,
chief detective of the French Government, and that
all the police of France at this moment are under
my control. I ask you, therefore, to be careful of your
answers. You were ordered by a policeman at Denouval
to return. Why did you not do so?"
"The lockkeeper ordered me to return, but as he had
no right to order me, I went on."
"You know very well it was the police who ordered
you, and you ignored the command. Again I ask you
why you did so."
"I did not know it was the police."
"I thought you would say that. You knew very
well, but were paid to take the risk, and it is likely to
cost you dear. You had two passengers aboard?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you put them ashore between here and Denouval?"
"No, sir; but one of them went overboard, and we
couldn't find him again."
"Which one?"
"The short man."
"Then the American is still aboard?"
"What American, sir?"
"Captain, you must not trifle with me. The man
who engaged you is still aboard?"
"Oh, no, sir, he has never been aboard."
"Do you mean to tell me that the second man who
came on your launch at the Pont de Kneel is not the
American who engaged you?"
"No, sir; the American was a smooth-faced man;
this man wore a black beard."
"Yes, a false beard."
"I did not know that, sir. I understood from the
American that I was to take but one passenger. One
came aboard with a small box in his hand; the other
with a small bag. Each declared himself to be the
passenger in question. I did not know what to do, so
I left Paris with both of them on board."
"Then the tall man with the black beard is still
with you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, captain, is there anything else you have to
tell me? I think you will find it better in the end to
make a clean breast of it."
The captain hesitated, turning his cap about in his
hands for a few moments, then he said:
"I am not sure that the first passenger went over-
board of his own accord. When the police hailed us at
Denouval - "
"Ah! you knew it was the police, then?"
"I was afraid after I left it might have been. You
see, when the bargain was made with me the American
said that if I reached Havre at a certain time a thousand
francs extra would be paid to me, so I was anxious
to get along as quickly as I could. I told him it
was dangerous to navigate the Seine at night, but he
paid me well for attempting it. After the policeman
called to us at Denouval the man with the small box
became very much excited, and asked me to put him
ashore, which I refused to do. The tall man appeared
be watching him, never letting him get far away.
When I heard the splash in the water I ran aft, and I
saw the tall man putting the box which the other had
held into his handbag, although I said nothing of it at
the time. We cruised back and forth about the spot
where the other man had gone overboard, but saw nothing
more of him. Then I came on to Meulan, intending
to give information about what I had seen. That is all I
know of the matter, sir."
"Was the man who had the jewels a Frenchman?!"
"What jewels, sir?"
"The man with the small box."
"Oh, yes, sir; he was French."
"You have hinted that the foreigner threw him over-
board. What grounds have you for such a belief if you
did not see the struggle?"
"The night is very dark, sir, and I did not see what
happened. I was at the wheel in the forward part of the
launch, with my back turned to these two. I heard a
scream, then a splash. If the man had jumped over-
board as the other said he did, he would not have
screamed. Besides, as I told you, when I ran aft I saw
the foreigner put the little box in his handbag, which he
shut up quickly as if he did not wish me to notice."
"Very good, captain. If you have told the truth it
will go easy with you in the investigation that is to
follow."
I now turned the captain over to one of my men, and
ordered in the foreigner with his bag and bogus black
whiskers. Before questioning him I ordered him to open
the handbag, which he did with evident reluctance. It
was filled with false whiskers, false mustaches, and
various bottles, but on top of them all lay the jewel case.
I raised the lid and displayed that accursed necklace. I
looked up at the man, who stood there calmly enough,
saying nothing in spite of the overwhelming evidence
against him.
"Will you oblige me by removing your false beard?"
"He did so at once, throwing it into the open bag. I
knew the moment I saw him that he was not the American,
and thus my theory had broken down, in one very
important part at least. Informing him who I was, and
cautioning him to speak the truth, I asked how he came
in possession of the jewels.
"Am I under arrest?" he asked.
"But certainly." I replied.
"Of what am I accused?"
"You are accused, in the first place, of being in
possession of property which does not belong to you."
"I plead guilty to that. What in the second place?"
"In the second place, you may find yourself accused
of murder."
"I am innocent of the second charge. The man
jumped overboard."
"If that is true, why did he scream as he went
over?"
"Because, too late to recover his balance, I seized
this box and held it."
"He was in rightful possession of the box; the owner
gave it to him."
"I admit that; I saw the owner give it to him."
"Then why should he jump overboard?"
"I do not know. He seemed to become panic-stricken
when the police at the last lock ordered us to
return. He implored the captain to put him ashore, and
from that moment I watched him keenly, expecting that
if we drew near to the land he would attempt to escape,
as the captain had refused to beach the launch. He
remained quiet for about half an hour seated on a camp
chair by the rail, with his eyes turned toward the shore,
trying, as I imagined, to penetrate the darkness and
estimate the distance. Then suddenly he sprang up and
made his dash. I was prepared for this and instantly
caught the box from his hand. He gave a half-turn,
trying either to save himself or to retain the box; then
with a scream went down shoulders first into the water.
It all happened within a second after he leaped from his
chair."
"You admit yourself, then, indirectly at least,
responsible for his drowning?"
"I see no reason to suppose that the man was
drowned. If able to swim he could easily have reached
the river bank. If unable to swim, why should he
attempt it encumbered by the box?"
"You believe he escaped then?"
"I think so."
"It will be lucky for you should that prove to be the
case."
"Certainly."
"How did you come to be in the yacht at all?"
"I shall give you a full account of the affair,
concealing nothing. I am a private detective, with
an office in London. I was certain that some attempt
would be made, probably by the most expert criminals at
large, to rob the possessor of this necklace. I came over
to Paris, anticipating trouble, determined to keep an eye
upon the jewel case if this proved possible. If the jewels
were stolen the crime was bound to be one of the most
celebrated in legal annals. I was present during the sale,
and saw the buyer of the necklace. I followed the official
who went to the bank, and thus learned that the money
was behind the cheque. I then stopped outside and waited
for the buyer to appear. He held the case in his hand.
"In his pocket, you mean?" I interrupted.
"He had it in his hand when I saw him. Then the
man who afterwards jumped overboard approached him,
took the case without a word, held up his hand for a
cab, and when an open vehicle approached the curb he
stepped in, saying, 'The Madeleine.' I hailed a closed
cab, instructed the cabman to follow the first, disguising
myself with whiskers as near like those the man in
front wore as I had in my collection."
"Why did you do that?"
"As a detective you should know why I did it. I
wished as nearly as possible to resemble the man in
front, so that if necessity arose I could pretend that I
was the person commissioned to carry the jewel case.
As a matter of fact, the crisis arose when we came to the
end of our cab journey. The captain did not know
which was his true passenger, and so let us both
remain aboard the launch. And now you have the whole
story."
"An extremely improbable one, sir. Even by your
own account you had no right to interfere in this busi-
ness at all."
"I quite agree with you there," he replied, with great
nonchalance, taking a card from his pocketbook, which
he handed to me.
"That is my London address; you may make inquiries,
and you will find I am exactly what I represent
myself to be."
The first train for Paris left Meulan at eleven
minutes past four in the morning. It was now a quarter
of two. I left the captain, crew, and launch in charge
of two of my men, with orders to proceed to Paris as
soon as it was daylight. I, supported by the third man,
waited at the station with our English prisoner, and
reached Paris at half past five in the morning.
The English prisoner, though severely interrogated
by the judge, stood by his story., Inquiry by the police
in London proved that what he said of himself was true.
His case, however, began to look very serious when two
of the men from the launch asserted that they had seen
him push the Frenchman overboard, and their statements
could not be shaken. All our energies were bent for the
next two weeks on trying to find something of the
identity of the missing man, or to get any trace of the
two Americans. If the tall American were alive, it seemed
incredible that he should not have made application for
the valuable property he had lost. All attempts to trace
him by means of the cheque on the Credit-Lyonnais
proved futile. The bank pretended to give me every
assistance, but I sometimes doubt if it actually did so.
It had evidently been well paid for its services, and
evinced no impetuous desire to betray so good a customer.
We made inquiries about every missing man in Paris,
but also without result.
The case had excited much attention throughout the
world, and doubtless was published in full in the American
papers. The Englishman had been in custody three
weeks when the Chief of Police in Paris received the
following letter:
DEAR SIR: On my arrival in New York by the English
steamer Lucania, I was much amused to read in the papers
accounts of the exploits of detectives, French and English.
I am sorry that only one of them seems to be in prison;
I think his French confrere ought to be there also. I
regret exceedingly, however, that there is rumour of the
death by drowning of my friend Martin Dubois, of 375,
Rue aux Juifs, Rouen. If this is indeed the case, he has
met his death through the blunders of the police.
Nevertheless, I wish you would communicate with his family
at the address I have given, and assure them that I will
make arrangements for their future support. I beg to
inform you that I am a manufacturer of imitation
diamonds, and through extensive advertising succeeded in
accumulating a fortune of many millions. I was in Europe
when the necklace was found, and had in my possession over a
thousand imitation diamonds of my own manufacture. It
occurred to me that here was the opportunity of the most
magnificent advertisement in the world. I saw the necklace,
received its measurements, and also obtained photographs of
it taken by the French Government. Then I set my expert
friend Martin Dubois at work, and with the artificial
stones I gave him he made an imitation necklace so closely
resembling the original that you apparently do not know it
is the unreal have in your possession. I did not fear the
villainy of the crooks as much as the blundering of the
police, who would have protected me with brass-band
vehemence if I could not elude them. I knew that the
detectives would overlook the obvious, but would at once
follow a clew if I provided one for them. Consequently, I
laid my plans, just as you have discovered, and got
Martin Dubois up from Rouen to carry the case I gave him
down to Havre. I had had another box prepared and wrapped
in brown paper, with my address in New York written thereon.
The moment I emerged from the auction room, while my friend
the cowboy was holding up the audience, I turned my face to
the door, took out the genuine diamonds from the case and
slipped it into the box I had prepared for mailing. Into
the genuine case I put the bogus diamonds. After handing
the box to Dubois, I turned down a side street, and then
into another whose name I do not know, and there in a shop
with sealing wax and string did up the real diamonds for
posting. I labeled the package "Books," went to the nearest
post office, paid letter postage, and handed it over
unregistered, as if it were of no particular value.
After this I went to my rooms in the Grand Hotel, where I
had been staying under my own name for more than a month.
Next morning I took train for London, and the day after
sailed from Liverpool on the Lucania. I arrived before the
Gascogne, which sailed Havre on Saturday, met my box at the
Customshouse, paid duty, and it now reposes in my safe. I
intend to construct an imitation necklace which will be so
like the genuine one that nobody can tell the two apart;
then I shall come to Europe and exhibit the pair, for the
publication of the truth of this matter will give me the
greatest advertisement that ever was.
Yours truly,
JOHN P. HAZARD.
I at once communicated with Rouen and found Martin
Dubois alive and well. His first words were:
"I swear I did not steal the jewels."
He had swum ashore, tramped to Rouen, and kept
quiet in great fear while I was fruitlessly searching
Paris for him.
It took Mr. Hazard longer to make his imitation
necklace than he supposed, and several years later he
booked his passage with the two necklaces on the ill-
fated steamer Bourgogne, and now rests beside them at
the bottom of the Atlantic.
As the English poet says:
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
[End]
[Edited by Andrea Davies: SDavies@MtRoyal.AB.CA]