The Ivory Snuff Box Part 22

"About--about ten minutes," she replied, wondering at his question.

"And you," exclaimed the Prefect, in a voice of fury, turning on Duvall, "were left alone in this room, with the snuff box in your possession, for ten minutes, at the end of which time you calmly turned it over to this fellow Hartmann. _Mon Dieu!_ Why did you not destroy it--crush it under your heel--anything, to prevent our enemies from obtaining possession of it?" He looked at Duvall, his face working convulsively.

"You--you are a--_sacre bleu!_--I cannot tell you what I think of you."

"Monsieur de Grissac," asked Duvall, his face white, "had I destroyed the box, or even only the key, could you have read these doc.u.ments yourself?"

The Amba.s.sador gazed at him, puzzled for a moment. "Certainly not, monsieur," he replied. "I could no more have solved the cipher than they could. It was for that reason that I was forced to carry the key about with me. But it would have been infinitely better, had the doc.u.ments never again been read, than to have them read by our enemies."

Without making any reply, Duvall placed his hand in his pocket and drew out, between his thumb and forefinger, a tiny white pellet, no larger than the head of a match. "You are no doubt acquainted, Monsieur de Grissac," he said, coolly, "with your own handwriting."

"My handwriting! Naturally. What of it?" He went toward the detective, an eager look in his face. Lefevre, Dufrenne, and Grace also crowded about, their expressions showing the interest which Duvall's questions had aroused.

The detective began to unroll the little white pellet with the utmost deliberation. It presently became a tiny strip of tissue paper, not over two and a half inches long, upon which was written a series of numbers.

"Is that, then, your handwriting, monsieur?" he inquired carelessly, as he placed the strip of paper in De Grissac's trembling hand.

"_Mon Dieu!_ The key!" fairly shouted the Amba.s.sador, as his eyes fell upon the bit of paper. "Monsieur Duvall, what does this mean?"

"It means, monsieur," replied the detective, coolly, "that while I was left alone in the room downstairs, I tore off the lower half of your key, which luckily, was a sufficient width to enable me to do so, and with a fountain pen I had in my pocket, wrote upon this second slip of paper a series of numbers taken at random. This series I placed in the secret recess in the box. I do not think it will prove of much use to our friends in Brussels."

"Duvall!" cried Lefevre, rushing forward with outstretched hands.

"Forgive me--forgive me!" He was not quick enough, however, to forestall Grace, who with one cry of happiness had flung herself into her husband's arms. "Richard!" she cried, and then sank sobbing but happy upon his breast.

Monsieur Lefevre seized his a.s.sistant by the arm and began to shake his hand in a way which almost threatened to dislocate the young man's shoulder. "My boy," he cried, laughing and crying at the same time, "forgive me--forgive me. I was hasty. I should have let you speak, first. G.o.d be praised, everything is well. De Grissac--think of it--they will puzzle their brains over that cipher for weeks and weeks and they will discover nothing--nothing! Is it not splendid!" He grasped the Amba.s.sador's hand and embraced him with ardor. "Magnificent! Superb!"

The Amba.s.sador was no less overjoyed. "Young man," he said, "we owe you the deepest apologies. No one could have done better. I thank you from the bottom of my heart." Dufrenne also offered his congratulations. "My friend," he said, "I have done you a great injustice. I salute you, not only as a brave man, but as a very shrewd one. As for me, I fear I am only an old fool."

Duvall patted the old man on the shoulder and smiled. "A patriot, monsieur, and for that I honor you. I was luckily able to turn the tables on these fellows. But one thing you, and all of you, gentlemen, should know. Had I not been able to subst.i.tute a false key for the real one, the latter would never have pa.s.sed into Hartmann's hands, if I had died for it."

"I know it, my friend. I was a fool, a dolt, even for one moment to doubt it. I ask your pardon, and that of madame, your wife," cried Lefevre, seizing Duvall's hands in his. Grace looked proudly at her husband, her knowledge of her own weakness forgotten in the triumph that he had won.

"And now, monsieur," said Duvall, with a look of happiness in his face as he caught his wife's glance, "with your permission, Mrs. Duvall and myself will begin once more our interrupted honeymoon."

The Prefect put his arm about the detective's shoulder, and gave him an affectionate hug. "My poor children," he cried, smiling at Grace. "In my excitement, my happiness, I had completely forgotten that you are only just married. And such a honeymoon as you have had. It is indeed shameful, and the fault is mine--mine alone. But I shall make amends, my children. You have rendered both me, and France, a great service, and I do not forget it. I insist that to-night you shall dine with me. You, De Grissac," he exclaimed, turning to the Amba.s.sador, "will, I know, be one of the party. And it is not alone for the purpose of dining that I ask you, your service to France shall be acknowledged in a more substantial way. Monsieur de Grissac and myself will have the honor to present to you, Monsieur Duvall, and to your charming bride, some tokens of our grat.i.tude and esteem. After that--go--enjoy your happiness. You have earned it." He glanced at his watch. "Madame, you are fatigued. You need rest--sleep. I insist that you permit me to send you to my house, where Madame Lefevre will have the honor to receive you, and make you comfortable. You, Duvall, can in the meantime make your arrangements for leaving Paris to-night, and also secure your baggage from the _pension_ in the _Rue Lubeck_ where it awaits you. I myself will accompany you, and render you any a.s.sistance in my power; we will then rejoin your wife at my house, where Monsieur de Grissac will meet us in time for dinner.

What do you say?"

Grace clung to her husband's arm. "I'm afraid to leave him, even for a minute," she said.

Duvall pressed her hand, and noted her swollen eyes, her white and drawn cheeks. "You have had a terrible night, dear," he said, kissing her, "and you must have a few hours' rest. Go to Monsieur Lefevre's house, and lie down and sleep for a little while. You are so nervous you can scarcely stand. I will not be long."

She gave his arm a little squeeze, then turned to the Prefect. "I thank you, monsieur, and since my husband thinks it best, I will gladly go to your house at once. Good-by, Richard." She accompanied Monsieur Lefevre to the door.

Two hours later, Duvall, having made all arrangements for leaving Paris for London that night, descended from the Prefect's automobile at the latter's house in the _Rue de Courcelles_. Within an hour they had been joined by Monsieur de Grissac and were all seated about Monsieur Lefevre's hospitable board. Everyone was in jubilant spirits, and in the happiness of the moment all the suffering of the past week was forgotten. De Grissac presented to the bride a magnificent diamond crescent, and to Duvall a gold cigarette-case of exquisite design and workmanship, while Monsieur Lefevre, not to be outdone, placed in Grace's hand a rare lace shawl which, he a.s.sured her, had been worn by a Marquise under the Empire. To Duvall he gave a seal ring, with the arms of France engraved upon a setting of jade. "It belonged to my father,"

he said, simply. "With me it is a talisman; you will never ask any favor from me in vain."

When M. Lefevre came at last to say good-by to Duvall and his wife, there were tears of real sorrow in his eyes. He had no children of his own, and the happiness of his two young friends had been his happiness as well. The thought that he might never see them again left him with a great sense of loneliness.

"Good-by, my dear boy," he said, grasping Duvall's hand in both of his, as he stood beside the door of the automobile which was to take the happy pair to the railway station. "When you settle down upon that little farm in your own country, and raise the chickens, and the pigs, and, may I also venture to hope"--he smiled meaningly at Grace--"the children, do not forget your old friend Lefevre."

Duvall pressed his hand, while Grace hid her blushes in the darkness of the cab.

"I shall never forget, _monsieur_, that to you I owe the possession of the sweetest and best wife in the world. We shall meet again, I promise you."

"Good! I shall hold you to the promise, _mon ami_. And if you do not keep it"--he pointed his finger impressively at the pair in the cab--"I shall send for you to a.s.sist me in the next difficult case which puzzles me, and _voila_! The thing is done. You would not _dare_ to fail me, should I call upon you for a.s.sistance."

He took Grace's hand and kissed it with old time courtliness, then slapped Duvall upon the shoulder.

"Go now, my children. If you stay longer I shall be unable to restrain my tears."

As the automobile turned the corner below, its occupants saw the old gentleman still standing on the sidewalk, gazing after them and waving his handkerchief in farewell.

"Dear old Lefevre," said Duvall, as he drew Grace to him and kissed her.