The Double Four Part 5

"One mistakes," he said. "The nerves become over-sensitive."

The dawn broke, and the awakening hum of the city grew louder and louder. Peter rose and stretched himself.

"Your servants are moving about in the house," he remarked. "I think that we might consider our vigil at an end."

Monsieur de Lamborne rose with alacrity.

"My friend," he said, "I feel that I have made false pretences to you.

With the day I have no fear. A thousand pardons for your sleepless night."

"My sleepless night counts for nothing," Peter a.s.sured him; "but before I go, would it not be as well that we glance together inside the safe?"

De Lamborne shook out his keys.

"I was about to suggest it," he replied.

The amba.s.sador arranged the combination and pressed the lever. Slowly the great door swung back. The two men peered in.

"Untouched!" de Lamborne exclaimed, a little note of triumph in his tone.

Peter said nothing, but held out his hand.

"Permit me," he interposed.

De Lamborne was conscious of a faint sense of uneasiness. His companion walked across the room and carefully weighed the packet.

"Well?" de Lamborne cried. "Why do you do that? What is wrong?"

Peter turned and faced him.

"My friend," he said, "this is not the same packet."

The amba.s.sador stared at him incredulously.

"This packet can scarcely have gained two ounces in the night," Peter went on. "Besides, the seal is fuller. I have an eye for these details."

De Lamborne leaned against the back of the table. His eyes were a little wild, but he laughed hoa.r.s.ely.

"We fight, then, against the creatures of another world," he declared.

"No human being could have opened that safe last night."

Peter hesitated.

"Monsieur de Lamborne," he said, "the room adjoining is your wife's?"

"It is the salon of madame," the Amba.s.sador admitted.

"What are the electrical appliances doing there?" Peter demanded. "Don't look at me like that, de Lamborne. Remember that I was here before you arrived."

"My wife takes an electric ma.s.sage every day," Monsieur de Lamborne answered in a hard, unnatural voice. "In what way is Monsieur le Baron concerned in my wife's doings?"

"I think that there need be no answer to that question," Peter said quietly. "It is a greater tragedy which we have to face. I maintain that your safe was entered from that room. A search will prove it."

"There will be no search there," de Lamborne declared fiercely. "I am the amba.s.sador of France, and my power under this roof is absolute. I say that you shall not cross that threshold."

Peter's expression did not change. Only his hands were suddenly outstretched with a curious gesture--the four fingers were raised, the thumbs depressed. Monsieur de Lamborne collapsed.

"I submit," he muttered. "It is you who are the master. Search where you will."

"Monsieur has arrived?" the woman demanded breathlessly.

The proprietor of the restaurant himself bowed a reply. His client was evidently well known to him.

"Monsieur has ascended some few minutes ago."

The woman drew a little sigh of relief. A vague misgiving had troubled her during the last few hours. She raised her veil as she mounted the narrow staircase which led to the one private room at the Hotel de Lorraine. Here she was safe; one more exploit accomplished, one more roll of notes for the hungry fingers of her dress-maker.

She entered, without tapping, the room at the head of the stairs, pushing open the ill-varnished door with its white-curtained top. At first she thought that the little apartment was empty.

"Are you there?" she exclaimed, advancing a few steps.

The figure of a man glided from behind the worn screen close by her side and stood between her and the door.

"Madame!" Peter said, bowing low.

Even then she scarcely realised that she was trapped.

"You!" she cried. "You, Baron! But I do not understand. You have followed me here?"

"On the contrary, madame," he answered; "I have preceded you."

Her colossal vanity triumphed over her natural astuteness. The man had employed spies to watch her! He had lost his head. It was an awkward matter, this, but it was to be arranged. She held out her hands.

"Monsieur," she said, "let me beg you now to go away. If you care to, come and see me this evening. I will explain everything. It is a little family affair which brings me here."

"A family affair, madame, with Bernadine, the enemy of France," Peter declared gravely.

She collapsed miserably, her fingers grasping at the air; the cry which broke from her lips harsh and unnatural. Before he could tell what was happening, she was on her knees before him.

"Spare me!" she begged, trying to seize his hands.

"Madame," Peter answered, "I am not your judge. You will kindly hand over to me the doc.u.ment which you are carrying."

She took it from the bosom of her dress. Peter glanced at it and placed it in his breast-pocket.

"And now?" she faltered.