The Golden Triangle Part 40

"Let's go and have a look at her," he said.

The barge was lettered:

LA NONCHALANTE. BEAUNE

They had to cross the s.p.a.ce between the barge and the wharf and to step over a number of ropes and empty barrels covering the flat portions of the deck. A companion-way brought them to a sort of cabin, which did duty as a stateroom and a kitchen in one. Here they found a powerful-looking man, with broad shoulders, curly black hair and a clean-shaven face. His only clothes were a blouse and a pair of dirty, patched canvas trousers.

Don Luis offered him a twenty-franc note. The man took it eagerly.

"Just tell me something, mate. Have you seen a barge lately, lying at Berthou's Wharf?"

"Yes, a motor-barge. She left two days ago."

"What was her name?"

"The _Belle Helene_. The people on board, two men and a woman, were foreigners talking I don't know what lingo. . . . We didn't speak to one another."

"But Berthou's Wharf has stopped work, hasn't it?"

"Yes, the owner's joined the army . . . and the foremen as well. We've all got to, haven't we? I'm expecting to be called up myself . . .

though I've got a weak heart."

"But, if the yard's stopped work, what was the boat doing here?"

"I don't know. They worked the whole of one night, however. They had laid rails along the quay. I heard the trollies; and they were loading up. What with I don't know. And then, early in the morning, they unmoored."

"Where did they go?"

"Down stream, Mantes way."

"Thanks, mate. That's what I wanted to know."

Ten minutes later, when they reached the house, Patrice and Don Luis found the driver of the cab which Simeon Diodokis had taken after meeting Don Luis. As Don Luis expected, Simeon had told the man to go to a railway-station, the Gare Saint-Lazare, and there bought his ticket.

"Where to?"

"To Mantes!"

CHAPTER XV

THE BELLE HeLeNE

"There's no mistake about it," said Patrice. "The information conveyed to M. Ma.s.seron that the gold had been sent away; the speed with which the work was carried out, at night, mechanically, by the people belonging to the boat; their alien nationality; the direction which they took: it all agrees. The probability is that, between the cellar into which the gold was shot and the place where it finished its journey, there was some spot where it used to remain concealed . . . unless the eighteen hundred bags can have awaited their despatch, slung one behind the other, along the wire. But that doesn't matter much. The great thing is to know that the _Belle Helene_, hiding somewhere in the outskirts, lay waiting for the favorable opportunity. In the old days Essares Bey, by way of precaution, used to send her a signal with the aid of that shower of sparks which I saw. This time old Simeon, who is continuing Essares' work, no doubt on his own account, gave the crew notice; and the bags of gold are on their way to Rouen and Le Havre, where some steamer will take them over and carry them . . . eastwards. After all, forty or fifty tons, hidden in the hold under a layer of coal, is nothing. What do you say? That's it, isn't it? I feel positive about it.

. . . Then we have Mantes, to which he took his ticket and for which the _Belle Helene_ is bound. Could anything be clearer? Mantes, where he'll pick up his cargo of gold and go on board in some seafaring disguise, unknown and unseen. . . . Loot and looter disappearing together. It's as clear as daylight. Don't you agree?"

Once again Don Luis did not answer. However, he must have acquiesced in Patrice's theories, for, after a minute, he declared:

"Very well. I'll go to Mantes." And, turning to the chauffeur, "Hurry off to the garage," he said, "and come back in the six-cylinder. I want to be at Mantes in less than an hour. You, captain . . ."

"I shall come with you."

"And who will look after . . . ?"

"Coralie? She's in no danger! Who can attack her now? Simeon has failed in his attempt and is thinking only of saving his own skin . . . and his bags of gold."

"You insist, do you?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't know that you're wise. However, that's your affair. Let's go.

By the way, though, one precaution." He raised his voice. "Ya-Bon!"

The Senegalese came hastening up. While Ya-Bon felt for Patrice all the affection of a faithful dog, he seemed to profess towards Don Luis something more nearly approaching religious devotion. The adventurer's slightest action roused him to ecstasy. He never stopped laughing in the great chief's presence.

"Ya-Bon, are you all right now? Is your wound healed? You don't feel tired? Good. In that case, come with me."

He led him to the quay, a short distance away from Berthou's Wharf:

"At nine o'clock this evening," he said, "you're to be on guard here, on this bench. Bring your food and drink with you; and keep a particular look-out for anything that happens over there, down stream. Perhaps nothing will happen at all; but never mind: you're not to move until I come back . . . unless . . . unless something does happen, in which case you will act accordingly."

He paused and then continued:

"Above all, Ya-Bon, beware of Simeon. It was he who gave you that wound.

If you catch sight of him, leap at his throat and bring him here. But mind you don't kill him! No nonsense now. I don't want you to hand me over a corpse, but a live man. Do you understand, Ya-Bon?"

Patrice began to feel uneasy:

"Do you fear anything from that side?" he asked. "Look here, it's out of the question, as Simeon has gone . . ."

"Captain," said Don Luis, "when a good general goes in pursuit of the enemy, that does not prevent him from consolidating his hold on the conquered ground and leaving garrisons in the fortresses. Berthou's Wharf is evidently one of our adversary's rallying-points. I'm keeping it under observation."

Don Luis also took serious precautions with regard to Coralie. She was very much overstrained and needed rest and attention. They put her into the car and, after making a dash at full speed towards the center of Paris, so as to throw any spies off the scent, took her to the home on the Boulevard Maillot, where Patrice handed her over to the matron and recommended her to the doctor's care. The staff received strict orders to admit no strangers to see her. She was to answer no letter, unless the letter was signed "Captain Patrice."

At nine o'clock, the car sped down the Saint-Germain and Mantes road.

Sitting inside with Don Luis, Patrice felt all the enthusiasm of victory and indulged freely in theories, every one of which possessed for him the value of an unimpeachable certainty. A few doubts lingered in his mind, however, points which remained obscure and on which he would have been glad to have Don Luis' opinion.

"There are two things," he said, "which I simply cannot understand. In the first place, who was the man murdered by Essares, at nineteen minutes past seven in the morning, on the fourth of April? I heard his dying cries. Who was killed? And what became of the body?"

Don Luis was silent; and Patrice went on:

"The second point is stranger still. I mean Simeon's behavior. Here's a man who devotes his whole life to a single object, that of revenging his friend Belval's murder and at the same time ensuring my happiness and Coralie's. This is his one aim in life; and nothing can make him swerve from his obsession. And then, on the day when his enemy, Essares Bey, is put out of the way, suddenly he turns round completely and persecutes Coralie and me, going to the length of using against us the horrible contrivance which Essares Bey had employed so successfully against our parents! You really must admit that it's an amazing change! Can it be the thought of the gold that has hypnotized him? Are his crimes to be explained by the huge treasure placed at his disposal on the day when he discovered the secret? Has a decent man transformed himself into a bandit to satisfy a sudden instinct? What do you think?"

Don Luis persisted in his silence. Patrice, who expected to see every riddle solved by the famous adventurer in a twinkling, felt peevish and surprised. He made a last attempt:

"And the golden triangle? Another mystery! For, after all, there's not a trace of a triangle in anything we've seen! Where is this golden triangle? Have you any idea what it means?"