The Ivory Snuff Box Part 20

She nodded, bowing her head upon her hands. She could not trust herself to speak.

"Where? Where in that room could it be hidden? Tell me!" he shook her angrily by the arm. "Haven't we wasted enough time over this thing?"

Still she made no reply. Now that she had told them, a sudden revulsion swept over her. She hated herself for what she had done, hated Hartmann, hated Monsieur Lefevre for placing her in this cruel situation.

Hartmann dragged her roughly to her feet. "If the box is in the room below, come with me and find it."

He hurried her toward the staircase. "Come along, Mayer," he called over his shoulder. "Bring that fellow with you. It won't be safe to leave him." As she descended the steps, Grace heard the other two close behind her. The Frenchman staggered along like a man in a daze, offering no resistance.

When they burst into the room in which Duvall was confined, they found the latter standing beneath the electric lamp, a look of determination upon his face. He regarded them steadily, in spite of his reddened and burning eyes.

Hartmann paid little attention to him. He was too greatly interested in the movements of Grace. "Now," he said, "where is it? You say the snuff box is here--in this room. Find it."

She hesitated, looking at her husband pitifully. What would he think of her? Would he, too, regard her as a traitor, a weak and contemptible creature, forever barred from love and respect, false to her duty, her honor? His face told her nothing. He was regarding her impa.s.sively. She remembered now that he had said that he would never see her again if she disobeyed him. Then she turned away, her mind made up. She would save him, come what might. He had told her that the box was hidden in an opera hat, in one corner of the room. She glanced about quickly, trying to discover its whereabouts in one of the dark corners.

Duvall saw her intention. He took a step forward, and addressed Hartmann. "You have forced this girl, through her love for me, to betray a great trust. I prefer that, if anyone here is to become a traitor, it shall be myself." He thrust his hand into the pocket of his coat, and extended a round white object toward the astonished doctor. "Here is the snuff box."

Dufrenne, for the moment left unguarded by Mayer, sprang forward with a fierce cry. "No--no--no!" he screamed. "You shall not--you shall not."

"Out of my way!" exclaimed the doctor, brushing the old man aside as easily as though the latter had been a child. With eager hands he took the box, and going to the light, bent over it. As he saw the pearls, the cross, his face lit up with delight. "This is it, Mayer. Just as the valet described it." He gave the ring of pearls a swift turn, then pressed immediately upon the larger one of the circle and slid the top of the ivory cross to one side. Duvall, who was watching him with interest, concluded that from some source, probably through Monsieur de Grissac's dead servant, Dr. Hartmann had learned thoroughly the secret of the box.

With a cry of satisfaction the latter drew out from the tiny recess the slip of folded paper, glanced at the row of numbers written upon it, then pa.s.sed it over to Mayer. The latter nodded his head. "Now we are all right," he muttered. "This is easily worth a million francs."

"Money doesn't measure its value, my friend," the doctor remarked, gravely, as he replaced the slip of paper beneath the cross and put the box carefully into his pocket.

During these few moments, Dufrenne had been observing the doctor with bulging eyes. Suddenly he turned on the detective. "May the good G.o.d curse you and your woman for this," he cried, hoa.r.s.ely, "until the day of your death. May He turn all men against you, and make your name a despised and dishonored one forever. You have been false to your duty--false to France. You are a traitor, a contemptible dog of a traitor, and you deserve to die." His whole body shook with pa.s.sion as he poured the fury of his wrath upon the man before him.

Duvall sank weakly against the packing case behind him. Suffering, lack of sleep and food, the burning pain in his eyes and brain, threatened to overcome him. "Let me alone," he gasped. "I am so tired, so very tired!"

He almost fell as he uttered the words and indeed would have done so had Grace not gone quickly up to him and pa.s.sed her arm lovingly about his shoulders. Turning to Dufrenne, she regarded him with a look of defiance. "He is not guilty!" she cried. "It is I--I!--who have been false. I made him do it--I made him do it. Go away, and tell the others what you please. I know that my husband has done his best." She fell to soothing him, kissing him upon his hot forehead, his burning cheeks.

Dufrenne looked at Dr. Hartmann, who was regarding the scene before him with impatience. "Do I understand, monsieur," he asked, in a ghastly voice, "that I am free to leave this place?"

"Yes. Out with you. I could hold you for trespa.s.s upon my grounds, for attempting to break into my house, but I don't want to be bothered with you. Go!" He went to the door and held it open. "Mayer," he said, "show this fellow the road. And as for you"--he turned to Duvall and his wife--"get away from here, and from Brussels, as soon as you like. I advise you not to stay in the town. I rather think that, through the evidence of Seltz, I can make it slightly uncomfortable for you. Tell what story you please. I have done you no injury. You came here of your own free will--you could have escaped and you would not. As for the light--" He laughed harshly. "An ordinary arc, focused on your eyes with a powerful lens. It would probably have blinded you, in time, and if it kept you awake long enough, you would no doubt have gone mad, but so far you are not hurt much. I can swear that it is part of my new treatment for a disordered mental state. My man here will agree with me. What are you going to do about it? How are you going to explain your robbery of Seltz in my office, the deception your wife has practised upon me and upon the United States Minister? And above all, now that I have the secret I desired, I am quite willing to have a cast made of the snuff box and return it to you, but I fancy that neither Monsieur de Grissac nor my friend Lefevre will want to have the matter made public in the courts. You'd better leave here quietly and take the first steamer to America. I don't fancy you'll find a very flattering reception awaiting you in Paris." He turned to the door. "Come, I'll have your belongings put on a cab, and be glad to be rid of you." He paused beside the doorway, waiting.

Grace turned to her husband. "Come, Richard," she said. "Let us go."

He made no reply, but followed her blindly. His spirits seemed broken, he walked like a man in a heavy sleep.

It was just dawn when, half an hour later, Richard Duvall and his wife drove silently through the ghostly streets of Brussels toward the railway station. The detective did not speak. He sat silent, plunged in a deep stupor. Grace, her heart breaking, held one of his hands, and with white face, gazed helplessly out of the window at the city, just waking to another day. To all these people the dawn came with some measure of hope, of happiness, but to her, and to her husband, now once more beginning their honeymoon, the future seemed full of bitterness and despair. She shivered in the cold morning air, and the tears she could not repress stole unheeded down her cheeks.

CHAPTER XXI

It was not until they had reached the railway station that Richard Duvall roused himself from the stupor in which he had sat ever since he and his wife had driven away from Dr. Hartmann's. When their baggage had been deposited on the platform, under the care of a solicitous porter, and the cabman had been paid and gone his way, Grace asked her husband concerning their destination. "Shall we go to Antwerp?" she said, listlessly. "We can get a steamer there, or cross to England." She awaited his reply without interest. It seemed to matter very little where they went, now.

Duvall turned to the waiting porter. "When is the next train for Paris?"

he asked. The man answered at once, glancing at the clock in the waiting-room. "In forty minutes, monsieur. You will have time for rolls and coffee."

"Paris!" exclaimed Grace, in much surprise. "Why should we go to Paris, dear? I don't care about the things I left there. We can telegraph for them. Oh, Richard, I can't go back and face Monsieur Lefevre now." She looked eagerly at his face, but its expression told her nothing. "I must make my report to the Prefect," he answered. "It is my duty."

Over their simple breakfast he was uncommunicative. "Don't worry, dear,"

he said, once, when she had plied him with questions, attempted to change his decision by arguments. "I cannot afford to run away. Monsieur Lefevre has given me a duty to perform, and I must at least tell my story. After that, we can go to America, but not now."

She could get no more out of him, and with tears in her eyes, followed him to the compartment in the Paris train which the porter had secured for them. There were few people traveling at this early hour. They had the compartment to themselves. Duvall rolled himself in his overcoat and lay down upon one of the seats. "I am very tired, dear," he told her. "I have suffered a frightful strain. My eyes hurt so that I can scarcely see. I am sick for want of sleep. There is a hard task before me, when I get to Paris. I must have a little rest." He turned his face away from the light, and lay quiet, breathing heavily.

Grace sat huddled up in a corner of the opposite seat, watching him, a great tenderness in her eyes. After all, she thought, he was her husband, the man she loved, and if he had appeared to act the part of a traitor to his cause, it was only because she, by her weakness, her love for him, had forced him to do so. At the last moment he had thought of her--his one thought had been to save her from disgrace and dishonor. He had a.s.sumed the blame, for he had given up the snuff box of his own free will. Had he allowed her to do so, he could have preserved his own name, his own honor, clear of all accusation or stain. It made her love him doubly, that he had thus stepped into the breach at the last moment and taken upon himself the guilt which she knew belonged in reality upon her.

As she sat there, conscious only of the flying trees outside the car windows, the clicking of the wheels upon the rails, and the low breathing of her husband on the seat before her, her mind went forward into the future, and the prospect made her shudder. In Paris she knew what manner of welcome awaited them. Monsieur Lefevre would turn from them both, as he would not turn from the vilest criminal.

Their names would be held up to scorn, in official circles at least. If the public ever came to know of the affair, she knew they would have reason to fear for their very safety.

As to the results of her act, as to what the secret of the lost snuff box was, that made Hartmann declare its value to be priceless, she could not even guess. That it must have some diplomatic, some international significance, she fully believed, else why should Monsieur Lefevre have declared that the honor of France was involved? And if so--if the possession of the secret by Hartmann, and thus by the foreign country, whichever one it might be, of which he was probably an agent, did result in complications of a vast and terrible nature, involving possibly war, or loss of national honor and prestige, how could either she or her husband ever again hope to hold up their heads, to find any joy and happiness in life?

Of course, there was America, and home, but even there the secret would in time become known, and Richard would find that those who had been his friends in high places would turn from him, trusting in his honor, his integrity, no longer. Even, she realized, if the affair did not become known, at home, it would stand forever between them, a black and grinning shadow, destroying confidence, happiness, even love itself. She had failed him--failed her husband--done what he had forbidden her to do, and he had sworn to leave her, to turn from her forever, if she disobeyed him. Would he do this, she wondered? Or would he understand that what she had done, had been for his sake, for the sake of her love for him?

Presently she realized that the train was slackening its speed, and the houses which began to appear in increasing numbers outside the car windows told her that they were approaching a station. She looked at her railway folder and then consulted her watch. It was Manbenge, the point at which they left Belgium and entered France. The train drew noisily into the station, and was at once surrounded by the usual crowd of pa.s.sengers, porters, railway and customs officials, and the like. Grace watched them idly, indifferently. Her only concern was that they should not wake her husband with their noisy chatter.

Presently she saw a small, white-haired figure approaching the compartment door. At first she paid no attention to the man, supposing him to be a belated pa.s.senger. Then she was struck with a sudden familiarity in his appearance. She started back in alarm as she saw that it was Dufrenne, and that he was making straight for the compartment in which she sat, his face stern and angry. Behind him she observed two gendarmes, walking with their characteristic jerky stride.

Dufrenne had been a mystery to her. Until their meeting in Dr.

Hartmann's laboratory that morning, she had never seen him. She had felt, from his words, that he, too, was of Monsieur Lefevre's staff, a member of the secret police, but that he was no friend of Richard's or of hers, she very well knew. She drew back further into the dim corner of the compartment, hoping that he would not recognize her.

Her hopes, however, were in vain. Dufrenne threw open the door of the carriage, which had previously been unlocked by the guard, and followed by his men, entered the compartment. "Here is the fellow," he cried, angrily, pointing to Duvall. "Arrest him."

Grace sprang forward, and stood between the men and her husband, who slept on, unconscious of the noise about him. "No--no!" she cried, in a tense whisper. "Let him alone. You shall not touch him." In her desperation she drew from the bosom of her dress a small revolver which she had carried ever since she left Paris. "Keep away, I tell you. You shall not arrest my husband."

Dufrenne confronted her with an angry gesture. "You fool!" he cried. "Do you dare to disobey this?" He held before her eyes a silver ring, inlaid with gold, similar to the one she wore about her own neck. "I am a member of the secret police, as you know. This man is a traitor to his duty, and for that he shall be punished. Arrest him," he said again to his men.

Grace recoiled, and dropped the revolver she held to the floor. In all her dread of the future, this was something upon which she had not counted. Her husband arrested--possibly shot, or condemned to spend years in some frightful military prison. She thought of Devil's Island, where Dreyfus had been confined, and the horror of the situation overcame her. Unable to resist longer, she sank upon the seat and burst into tears.

The two gendarmes awakened Duvall roughly, and after informing him that he was a prisoner, sat grimly down on either side of him. Dufrenne took the seat beside Grace. The train had again begun to move--she realized that they were once more flying toward Paris.

At first Duvall, in his stupor of sleep, did not realize what had happened, but in a few moments he had grasped the situation. He did not seem greatly concerned at his arrest, and Grace, her first paroxysm of weeping having pa.s.sed, looked at him in surprise. How brave he is! she thought. Once she caught his eyes, but he made no sign. Apparently he was resigned to his fate.

Dufrenne turned to her presently. "You, madame, are also under arrest,"

he remarked coldly.

"You have no right to do this thing," she exclaimed. "We have done the best we could."

"No!" cried the little old Frenchman, his bent shoulders straightening, his eyes flashing until he became a stern and vengeful figure. "No! You have not done the best you could. Brave men--and brave women, die at their posts of duty. You are cowards, both of you. Had I been in your place, do you think I would have given in--do you think I would have sold the honor of my country! _Mon Dieu!_ It is incredible! I am a Frenchman, madame, and I have fought for France. I value my life as nothing, where her welfare is concerned. I would have died a thousand times, died as Frenchmen die, with '_Vive La France_,' on my lips, before I would have uttered so much as a single word."

She made no reply to this. In his anger, the fragile old man seemed inspired with the very spirit of patriotism, his withered cheeks took on new color, his sunken eyes a new brightness. She felt ashamed--not for Richard, for he had spoken only when she had forced him to do so, but for herself. The guilt was hers. She was glad that she, too, was arrested, that she might have a chance to go before Monsieur Lefevre and take upon her shoulders the dishonor which she knew belonged there.

Silent, she shrank back into her corner, not daring to look up.

"Monsieur Dufrenne," she heard Richard saying, quietly, "be so good as to remember that it was I, not my wife, who gave the snuff box to Hartmann. You have seen fit to place me under arrest. Very well, I will tell my story to Monsieur Lefevre and abide by his decision. But meanwhile, I beg that you will treat my wife with courtesy and respect.

She has had a very trying and terrible experience and I do not wonder that she is unnerved. You may not know it, monsieur, but we were married but five days ago, and this--" he glanced about the compartment with a sad smile--"this, monsieur, is our honeymoon."