Messengers of Evil Part 29

"The original hand-cart was hidden away in one of the lateral galleries, which are small and narrow, and not likely to be visited and examined, except as a last resource. It is, therefore, clear that the affair has been carefully arranged: a premeditated robbery. The presence of the two hand-carts would establish this--the hand-carts used by the bank for the transport of bullion and other forms of money are of a particular make--unique, in fact. Their respective positions show that the robbers had carefully prepared their drama, and it was skilfully arranged.

"Thanks to Monsieur Havard's kindness, we were permitted to approach the original hand-cart. It was in a lamentable condition: the body of it was nearly smashed to pieces! Of course, no traces of the seals were to be found. The only remark we see fit to make in this connection is, that Monsieur Nanteuil, his clerks, and those who witnessed the accident, must have been greatly excited and upset, otherwise they would naturally have been much astonished at finding the subst.i.tuted hand-cart practically uninjured after an accident of so crushing a nature.

"We have carefully examined the soil round the original hand-cart, in the hope of finding some clear footprints of the thieves, or their accomplices; but it was impossible to draw any conclusion from this examination--the footmarks are intermingled, superimposed, undistinguishable. It must be admitted the soil of the Metropolitan, hereabouts, has been very much trampled over and beaten down so that it is difficult to believe that researches, with the object of discovering the robbers' footmarks, are likely to have any clear result.

"At the moment these lines have been written, the investigation in the Metropolitan pa.s.sageways still continues, and will, in all probability, be continued late into the night. So far, the police admit that results are meagre. Monsieur Havard considers it certain that the deed is a premeditated one, carefully prepared, and that, consequently, the explosion which caused the catastrophe was a deliberate act of violence.

On the other hand, Monsieur Nanteuil declares that outside the parties interested, that is to say, the Barbey-Nanteuil bank and the Comptoir d'Escomptes, who were to receive the bullion, not a soul could know of the transfer on that particular morning. But the staffs of the bank and of the Comptoir National d'Escomptes are absolutely trustworthy: their honour has never been questioned.

"It is evident that such a daring and desperate deed, carried through so successfully in the galleries of the Metropolitan, in the sight of all Paris, at eleven o'clock in the morning, could only be the work of a band of criminals, numerous and perfectly organised.

"'Are we returning to the days of--Fantomas?'

"Let us add, that owing to the number of individuals probably involved, and the daring nature of the crime, Monsieur Havard considers that it will be extremely difficult for the guilty persons to escape from the police."

Jerome Fandor had just finished correcting this sensational article, when slips from the Havas Agency arrived at _La Capitale_.

Our journalist cast his eyes over them, thinking he might find some piece of news which had come to hand at the last minute. As he read he grew pale. He struck his writing-table a violent blow with his fist.

"For all that, I am not mad!" he cried.

And, holding his head between his hands, spelling out each word, he reread the following telegram from the Havas Agency:

_Affair of the rue du Quatre Septembre_

"_At the last moment of going to press, a b.l.o.o.d.y imprint has been discovered on hand-cart number 2. Monsieur Bertillon immediately identified this imprint: it was made by the hand of Jacques Dollon, the criminal who is already wanted by the police for the murder of the Baroness de Vibray, and the robbery committed on the Princess Sonia Danidoff._"

"But I am not mad!" cried Fandor, when he had read these lines. "I declare I am not mad! By all that's holy, Jacques Dollon is dead!...

Fifty persons have seen him dead! But, for all that, Bertillon cannot be mistaken!"

After a minute or two, Fandor took up his pen again, and added a note to his article, ent.i.tled:--

_Sensational development. The police say: "It is the late Jacques Dollon who has stolen the millions!"_

This note showed clearly that Jerome Fandor did not believe that Jacques Dollon could possibly be involved in this affair, or in either of the other crimes in connection with which his name had been mentioned.

XII

INVESTIGATIONS

A man jumped quickly out of the Auteuil-Madeleine tram.

It would have been difficult to guess his age, or see his face. He wore a large soft hat--a Brazilian sombrero--whose edges he had turned down.

The collar of his overcoat was turned up, so that the lower part of his face was so far buried in it that his features were almost hidden. Then, during the entire journey, seated at the end of the tramcar he had kept his back turned on the other pa.s.senger: he seemed to be absorbed in watching the movements of the driver. At the end of the rue Mozart, where the rues La Fontaine, Poussin, des Perchamps meet, he had quitted the tram with real satisfaction.

Then, in the silence of the evening, the clock of Auteuil church had slowly struck eight silvery strokes.

The listening man murmured:

"Oh, there's no hurry after all. I've a two good hours' wait in front of me!"

Leaving the frequented ways, he plunged into the little by-streets, newly made and not yet named, which join the end of the rue Mozart with the boulevard Montmorency. He walked fast, at the same time taking his bearings.

"Rue Raffet?... If I don't deceive myself, it lies in this direction!"

He reached the hilly and lonely road bearing that name, which, on both sides of its entire length, is bordered by attractive private residences.

Swiftly, silently, stealthily, this individual approached one of these houses. He glanced through the garden railing, scrutinising the windows which were lighted up.

"Good! Good! Decidedly good!" he said, in a low tone of satisfaction....

"But there's two hours to wait ... they are still in the dining-room, if I am to go by the lighted windows."

The watcher now inspected the rue Raffet. The house which interested him so much, was situated just where the rue du Docteur Blanche opens into the street at right angles. Auteuil is certainly not a frequented part, but, as a rule, the rue Raffet is generally more lonely than any of the streets in Auteuil: no carriages, no pedestrians.

From an early hour in the evening, that hilly road was, more often than not, quite deserted, so was the rue du Docteur Blanche, still surrounded by waste land, and more especially at the rue Raffet end.

A glance or two sufficed to show the man the lie of the land. He noted the feeble glimmer of the street lamps; he made certain that not one of the neighbouring houses could perceive his actions, mark his movements.

He repeated in a theatrical tone of voice with a note of amus.e.m.e.nt in it.

"Not a soul! Not a solitary soul! Well, it is no joke to wait here; but, after all, it is a quiet spot, and I can count on not being disturbed in the job I have in hand to-night...."

This individual traversed the rue Raffet, gained the rue du Docteur Blanche, and, wrapping himself up in his voluminous black cloak, ensconced himself in a break in the palisades bordering the pavement. He stood there motionless; anyone might have pa.s.sed within a few yards of him without suspecting his presence, so still was he, so imperceptibly did his dark figure blend with the blackness of the night.

He started slightly. The church clock struck nine, its notes sounding silvery clear through the tranquil night ... in the distance some convent clock chimed an evening prayer, then a deeper silence fell on the darkness of night....

Suddenly, the front door of the house, which the stranger had watched with scrutinising intentness, was thrown wide open, showing a large, luminous square in the darkness. Two women were speaking.

"Are you going out, my darling?" asked the elder.

"Don't be anxious, madame," replied a girlish voice. "There is no need to wait for me. I am only going to the post...."

"Why not give Jules your letter?"

"No, I prefer to post it myself."

"You would not like someone to go with you? There are not many people about at this hour...."

The same fresh, young voice replied:

"Oh, I am not frightened ... besides it's only rue Raffet which is deserted; as soon as I reach rue Mozart there will be nothing more to fear!"

The luminous square, drawn on the obscurity of the garden, disappeared.

The mysterious stranger, who had not lost a word of this conversation, heard the door of the vestibule close, then the gravel of the garden crunch under the feet of the girl coming down the path. Very soon the gate of the garden grated on its badly oiled hinges, and then the elegant outline of a young girl was visible on the badly lighted pavement. She was walking fast....