A Nest of Spies Part 27

The agent would follow in his track, the pursuit would develop, for, seeing a soldier in uniform racing along, the pa.s.sers-by would join in the running: it would be fatal--Vinson would be caught.

"I'll double back," thought he, "back and up!"

Hurriedly he mounted the next flight of stairs, gaining the third story. No sooner had he reached the landing which dominated Fandor's flat than the agent, in his turn, reached the staircase and ran to the bal.u.s.trade to try and catch sight of Vinson on his way down to the street. He did not doubt that this was the soldier's way of escape.

The agent could not see a soul.

"Got off, by Jove!" He was furious.

He was about to descend, when someone, belonging to the house probably, began to mount the first flight of stairs in leisurely fashion, someone who could have no suspicion of the pursuit going on in the house. Very likely the agent neither intended nor desired to be recognised for what he was: it was quite probable that he did not wish to be seen, for, on hearing this someone coming up towards him, he stopped short in his descent.... It was his turn to hesitate a moment.

Then it suddenly occurred to him that this new-comer might be a resident on one of the lower floors and so would not come higher. With this, the agent retraced his steps, crossed the landing on to which Fandor's flat opened, and began to mount the next flight leading to the third floor.

This did not suit Vinson: he was on tenterhooks.

"If he keeps coming up," thought the corporal, "much use it will be for me to retreat upwards! He will nip me on the sixth floor! It's a dead cert!"

Then he had a brilliant idea. He began to walk on the landing with heavy steps, imitating someone coming downstairs. Forthwith, the agent, who was coming up, stopped short. He had no wish to be seen by the person descending either! The only thing left for him to do was to take refuge in the journalist's flat! Easy enough with his master-key!

He reopened the door, closing it just in time to escape being seen by the resident coming upstairs.

Vinson, who had not lost a single movement of the agent's, gave a sigh of satisfaction. He had perfectly understood the why and wherefore of his pursuer's hesitations; he seemed now in high good-humour; had he not caught sight of the new arrival! He was immensely amused!

The person who had just come upstairs was now ringing Fandor's bell.

Not getting any answer, he selected a key on his bunch, and it was his turn to let himself in to the journalist's flat.

As he was closing the door, Corporal Vinson, from the landing above, gave him an ironical salute.

"I much regret that I am unable to introduce you to each other! But, by way of return, I thank you for the service you have unwittingly done me."

The way was open: Vinson rapidly descended, gained the street, hailed a cab.

"To the Eastern Station!"

"I have missed the express," he muttered; "but I shall catch the first train for those on leave."

Whilst Corporal Vinson was congratulating himself on the turn of events, the agent remained in Fandor's flat, feeling as if he were the victim of an abominable nightmare. No sooner had he hurriedly let himself into the flat in order to escape the resident coming upstairs, than he heard the bell ring: he felt desperate: "Who the devil was it!" a.s.suredly not the unknown who had fled so mysteriously--"Who then?"

When the bell rang a second time, the man cried: "What's to be done?"

Well, the best thing was to wait in the journalist's study: it was more than probable that, not obtaining any response, the visitor would go away!... This was not at all what happened.

With the same a.s.surance which he himself had had a few minutes before, the agent of the Second Bureau heard the new arrival slip his key into the lock, open the door, close it as confidently as though he were entering his own home; and now, yes, he was coming towards the study!

There was no light burning in Fandor's study: some gleams from the gas-lamps in the street dimly illumined the room. The agent, who was leaning with his elbow on the mantelpiece, could not clearly distinguish the features of the person who now stood in the doorway.

It was certainly not the journalist. The intruder was a man of quite forty; he wore a soft hat turned down at the edges, thus partially concealing the upper half of his face, which was sunk in the raised collar of an overcoat.

The intruder bowed slightly to the agent, then taking a few steps into the room, went to the window, looked about outside. He seemed to be someone on intimate terms with the master of the flat, and might be going to await his return.

"He must be a friend of Jerome Fandor's," thought the agent. "He must think the journalist will be here shortly, perhaps that he is actually in the flat somewhere, and that I too am waiting for him." Evidently the best thing to do was to stay where he was, and not to make any remark which might attract attention.

Some minutes pa.s.sed thus. Presently, the two men, tired with standing, seated themselves.

"The old boy will get sick of waiting," thought the agent. "He will go away, and I shall take my departure when he has cleared out."

But the new-comer, making himself very much at home, now relieved himself of his greatcoat, removed his hat, and, having caught sight of a lamp on the mantelpiece, took a box of matches from his pocket, and proceeded to light it. At the moment when the match flared up, the man, turning his back on the agent, could not see him: but the agent could see the man distinctly. There could be no question that the man lighting the lamp was someone the agent had not expected to meet, for the emissary from the Second Board did the very reverse of what the new-comer had done: he turned up the collar of his greatcoat!

The two men were now face to face in the lighted room.... There was a silence which lasted some minutes: the agent broke it.

"You await Monsieur Fandor?" asked the agent.

"Yes, Monsieur, and you also, no doubt?"

"Quite so ... and I have more than an idea that we shall have to wait a long time for him.... I saw him a short while ago, he had a piece of pressing business on hand, and I do not think he will be back before."... The agent was quite obviously trying to get the new-comer to retire.

"Bah!" retorted the latter: "I am in no hurry." Whilst speaking the unknown visitor stared strangely at the emissary of the Second Bureau: he was thinking.

"Where have I seen that long beard--that remarkably heavy moustache?... And then this bundle he has put down!... If I am not jolly well mistaken, I know this individual!"

"Well, now," he said pleasantly, "since chance has thrown us into each other's company, allow me to introduce myself, Monsieur! I am Brigadier Juve of the detective force, from Police Headquarters."

"In that case, we might almost count ourselves colleagues, Monsieur! I am the agent Vagualame, attached to the vigilance department of the Secret Service!"

With that, Vagualame held out his hand to his colleague, Juve! It was done with an unmistakable air of constraint.

It really seemed as if Juve had been awaiting this very action; for, at the precise moment Vagualame held out his hand, the detective extended his, and prolonged the hand-clasp as if he never meant to let go--a regular hand-grip!

Juve was thinking hard.

"Vagualame! Here is this Vagualame at Fandor's!... It's significant!... and then?... No, there's no doubt about it! This beard is false! That moustache is artificial!... This individual is made up!"

Perceiving that he was face to face with a disguised man, Juve was about to hurl himself on this masquerader, when that individual, forestalling the detective's movement, seized the initiative with lightning rapidity. He tore his hand from Juve's tenacious grip, bounded to the mantelpiece, threw down the lamp with a jerk of his elbow, thrust Juve violently aside, and rushed to the door.

Like lightning Juve tore off in pursuit.

The masquerader had the advantage by some yards. Banging door after door in Juve's face, he rushed towards the entrance hall, gained the staircase, racing down it by leaps and bounds, four steps at a time!... Juve at his heels, risked breaking his neck in hot pursuit....

Vagualame reached the porch of the house door: Juve was close on his quarry....

"I shall get him!" thought Juve: "In the street the people will lend me a helping hand!"

Vagualame fled through the doorway: in pa.s.sing, he seized the ma.s.sive door and pulled it to with a resounding bang....

Juve, borne forward by the impetus of his dashing pursuit, staggered backwards and rolled to the ground....

Instantly Juve sprang to the porter's lodge and demanded the string!

In the twinkling of an eye and Juve was out in the street! He was furious, he was breathless.... The whole length of the pavements not a soul was in sight! Vagualame had vanished!