The Remittance Kid Part 8

In spite of the possibility that they might be betrayed to a member of the Chicago Police Department who would not allow himself to be dissuaded from carrying out his duty by the danger of antagonising influential political and religious factions in the city, the couple had not considered abandoning their scheme and fleeing. As Belle Boyd had deduced, they were made of sterner stuff than their three a.s.sociates and, while aware of the danger, had refused to be driven off before they were sure they had no other choice but to escape. They already possessed the necessities for flight, including having placed sufficient money and the doc.u.ments required to leave the United States in a place known only to themselves.

Having arranged that any message from the survivor would be delivered to them, Vera and 'Devlin' had gone with Branigan to a hide-out which he swore was safe as the police were not aware of its existence. On arriving, they had made their preparation for what they had guessed would be an anything but easy interview. Vera had restricted herself to changing her cloak for a black Kerry coat and partially concealing her face with the hood. Discarding his priestly attire, the impostor had donned garments which conveyed the impression that he was a well-to-do businessman. Then they had taken the fringe-top Surrey and set off unescorted towards the high rent north eastern area of the city in which, without any of his neighbours suspecting how he actually earned his living, the man so essential to the continuation of their plans had his home.

Equalling 'Devlin' in height and considerably heavier, although much of the extra bulk was fat, Ernst Kramer was in his late fifties. He had on stylish clothes which did little to flatter his appearance, nor to distract from his corpulence. Close cropped, his iron grey hair emphasised the bullet shape of his head. His florid features and well fed look contributed to his nickname, 'die Fliescher' - the Butcher - as much as did his use of that trade as a means of concealing his actual line of business.

Nothing about Kramer gave the suggestion that he was a highly successful dealer in illicit firearms. Certainly none of his neighbours, including several who would have objected strongly and were sufficiently influential to make their disapproval effective, were aware of how he earned his living. Yet such had been his occupation for many years. Regardless of who wanted the death-dealing merchandise, or for what purpose, he could supply it. Nor did he restrict himself to rifles, revolvers, and ammunition of all kinds and in larger quant.i.ties than any of his compet.i.tors could offer. If the price was right, he would also procure pieces of artillery and even more sophisticated weapons although his means of obtaining the latter were very rarely legal.

Being a cautious man, a not unnatural state of mind for one in his line of business, Kramer had little faith in the honesty or reliability of his customers. Although circ.u.mstances had compelled him to interview the couple at his home instead of some more desirable rendezvous, he clearly was not taking any chances. In spite of them having arrived with excellent references and notwithstanding that one was a woman, he had taken precautions against treachery. A Colt 'Storekeeper Model' Pacemaker revolver1 lay c.o.c.ked on the table close to his right hand. In addition, there were two exceptionally husky, well dressed, blond haired young men of Teutonic appearance, each with a revolver displayed openly in his waistband, standing in opposite corners of the large and comfortably furnished library of his palatial home.

'I haven't tried to cheat you,' 'Devlin' protested. 'I kept the coins separate from the rest instead of mixing them and hoping they wouldn't be noticed.'

'That was real kind of you,' Kramer answered sardonically, knowing there were too many damaged coins to have pa.s.sed unnoticed. 'Is the full amount we arranged here?'

'No,' 'Devlin' admitted. 'There's some missing, but I brought this as a sign of good faith -'

"You know my terms,' Kramer interrupted. 'Cash on the barrel head is the only way I do business, as I told you from the beginning. I've got to admire your gall, though, coming here without the full purchase price and half of that in damaged coins.'

'I brought them as a deposit,' the impostor growled, knowing the deal must be concluded before he left or there would be complications which could ruin the scheme he and the actress were engaged upon. 'I can get the balance -'

'Damaged coins are of no use to me,' Kramer persisted. 'So-'

'We're willing to pay you a bonus if you accept them,' Vera offered, so annoyed by 'Devlin's' continued use of the word I rather than 'we' that she spoke before the arms salesman could suggest a similar arrangement.

'How much of a bonus?' Kramer inquired, delighted at having the proposal come from one of his customers instead of having made it himself.

'That depends,' the impostor put in and, not for the first time that evening, silently cursing the actress for interfering. He had what he felt sure was the means of ensuring Kramer's co-operation on the matter of payment without offering the inducement of a bonus, but was just as sure that something extra would have to be handed over now the offer had been made. 'We might ask you to get us something else.'

'Such as?' the arms salesman asked.

'An Agar Coffee-Mill gun,' 'Devlin' replied, ignoring Vera as she looked at him in amazement and opened her mouth.

'An Agar Coffee-Mill gun?' Kramer repeated, frowning in puzzlement. 'h.e.l.l, I haven't seen one of them in -'

'There's no statute of limitations for murder!' the impostor interrupted, sotto voce, but with grim intensity. He saw a suggestion of alarm creep across the other man's florid features as he continued, 'And I doubt whether certain members of the 18th Ohio Volunteers will have forgotten -'

'How do you know about that?' Kramer asked in normal tones.

During the War Between The States, one of die Fliescher's commissions had come from a group of liberal intellectuals serving in the Union Army. They had required rifles and an Agar Coffee-Mill gun2 for a scheme they were hatching. Two sentries of the 18th Ohio Volunteers, the members of which had contributed to purchase such a weapon, had been killed as a preliminary to stealing it. Although the scheme had failed and all the consignment was destroyed,3 his part in the affair had never been mentioned. However, he knew that he could still be arrested and tried for the crime.

'I know and that's sufficient,' 'Devlin' answered, having no intention of mentioning he was one of the conspirators as to do so would weaken his position.

'It's also dangerous knowledge for an unarmed man to have,' Kramer warned, his right hand moving closer to the b.u.t.t of the revolver.

'I'd put that idea out of your head straight away if I was you,' the impostor stated, showing no alarm, although he had been searched on his arrival and had been compelled to leave the revolver he was carrying in the fringe-top Surrey. However, he did not underestimate the danger. That Kramer had not offered to hold his voice down implied he could trust the two men in the corners of the room. 'Killing me won't do you any good. I've left a signed deposition outlining the whole affair and, if anything happens to me, it will be forwarded to the Ohio State Legislature. The Governor was the Volunteers' colonel and it was at his suggestion they all chipped in to buy the -'

'All right, you've made your point,' Kramer growled and, although he moved his hand away from the Colt, he continued - so as to show he had not made an unconditional surrender - 'The lady said something about a bonus.'

'I didn't!' 'Devlin' snapped.

'Look at it from my point of view, Mr Caldicott,' Kramer requested, the brief worried expression having been replaced by a look of cold calculation as he laid great emphasis on the name he had been given by the impostor. 'I'll have to send all the damaged coins out of the country to dispose of them and, even then, I'll have to let them go at a discount. So I don't see why I should stand the loss.'

'Why should you need to send them out of the country?' 'Devlin' queried, realising that the arms salesman was less perturbed than he had antic.i.p.ated.

'Because I know how they were damaged,' Kramer replied. 'And who is investigating the fire at O'Malley's.'

'You know - ?' Vera gasped, showing less control over her emotions than the bogus priest who stiffened slightly but said nothing.

'I know, Mrs Caldicott,' Kramer confirmed, once again speaking in a way which indicated he was aware the name was an alias, but his gaze remained on 'Devlin'. 'We've been keeping a - fatherly - eye on you and your - husband - ever since you contacted me and that includes tonight. There are those in Chicago who might consider a married couple with your religious convictions shouldn't be doing anything so unchristian as buying guns which will be used to kill people, even if they will be people who aren't of your faith.'

'What I know about would make things far worse for you than anything you might know can make them for me,' the impostor answered, but he appreciated the implications of the latest development and tried to sound more confident than he was feeling. 'I've nothing to fear from the people I'm working with.'

'Nor from Lieutenant Ballinger?' Kramer challenged. 'I've heard he's not the kind to be scared off an investigation because, if he keeps going, he might hurt somebody's political - or religious - feelings.'

There, 'Devlin' told himself bitterly, die Fliescher had touched the pivotal point of their negotiations. Kramer was in a position to create serious difficulties for him almost immediately. On the other hand, at present he could not betray Kramer without ruining the scheme for which he had worked so long. Even if he should do so anonymously, he did not doubt that Kramer would expose his adopted ident.i.ty and present Ballinger with an excellent reason for investigating him.

'I can see your point about sending the money out of the country,' the imposter conceded, hoping the other man had not thought of one aspect of the affair. 'How much of a bonus do you want?'

'Three thousand dollars,' Kramer suggested.

'Three thousand - ?' Vera yelped, having failed to comprehend that her companion no longer controlled the situation as completely as his earlier comments had implied and annoyed by his behaviour.

'One thousand!' 'Devlin' countered, silencing the actress with a glare of concentrated fury.

'Fifteen hundred,' Kramer replied, in tones of finality. 'That's my last offer. To be delivered with the balance of the payment by this time tomorrow.'

'I can't get it by then,' the impostor protested. Although he and Vera each had a sum sufficient to complete the deal in their possession, extracted from the donations they had gathered, he did not intend using his own money unless there was no other choice and he felt sure she would be equally disinclined to make the sacrifice. However, he was confident that he could persuade his local backers to make good the deficit. 'But I'll have it for you in two days.'

'Two days it is then,' Kramer a.s.sented.

'How soon can we take possession of the weapons?' Vera demanded, indignant that neither man had sought her opinion and approval before reaching the agreement.

'You can have the order for the city on the day after I've been paid in full,' the arms salesman promised. 'But it'll take two weeks for everything to be ready up at Stokeley.'

'And, of course, under the circ.u.mstances,' Vera said, her annoyance causing her to be indiscreet, 'we know that we'll find everything -'

'Everything will be satisfactory!' 'Devlin' put in quickly, scowling at the actress. He had no wish for die Fliescher to learn they were going to Stokeley instead of remaining in Chicago. Such knowledge would reveal the weak spot which Kramer had overlooked in their respective positions. While he could not betray the other as long as he needed to remain in the city, there was nothing to stop him once he left and ceased to be 'Father Matthew Devlin'.

'Mr Kramer's never failed to make a delivery yet. That's why we came to him. If you'd like to count the money and give us a receipt, sir, we'll be on our way.'

If the Rebel Spy had been able to overhear the conversation, she would have discovered she was correct in her a.s.sumption that there would be reluctance on the part of the arms salesman to accept the damaged money. However, the impostor had contrived to overcome the obstacle and would soon have the means to put his scheme into operation.

Despite the Chicago River4 having been explored in 1673 by Louis Joillet and Jacques Marquette, and then becoming an important portage route for voyageurs on pa.s.sage to the lower Illinois country, the French had not made any attempts to settle in the area. Nor, when the city of Chicago had begun to grow, did they take up residence in numbers which came anywhere near to equalling those of the Irish, German, Italian or Mid-European populations. However, there was a small enclave of them on the fringes of the Irish district of Streeterville in which O'Malley's Grand Emerald Isle was situated.

It was to 'Frog Town', as the French quarter was inelegantly referred to by its neighbours of non-Gallic origin that Lieutenant Edward Ballinger was escorting Belle Boyd and Captain Patrick Reeder. They were approaching their destination at about the time that Vera Gorr-Kauphin and the bogus priest were leaving Ernst Kramer's residence.

As Ballinger had put the buggy he and his subordinates were using at Sergeant Damon's disposal, he and his companions were on foot. Although they had decided upon their strategy while walking, none of them realised that they had been kept under surveillance ever since leaving the hospital. The lieutenant had heard about the fringe-top Surrey leaving hurriedly, but n.o.body had noticed the surviving member of the trio lurking in the alley from which it emerged. So the possibility that they might be followed had not occurred to any of them. Even if they had envisaged the contingency, the man might have evaded their experienced attempts to catch him.

Born of a French father and an a.s.siniboin Indian mother, Arnaud Cavallier was - as the Remittance Kid had suggested - a Metis. He had acquired the sobriquet, le Loup-Garou, 'the Werewolf', by virtue of his skill as a woodsman and his ruthless nature. What was more, he had received a university education which had done nothing to dispel the training he had been given in such matters as silent moving and stalking. Considerable experience at both made him equally capable of exploiting his talents on the streets of a city as in the backwoods of his homeland.

Close to six foot in height, le Loup-Garou - as he preferred to be called - had light brown, almost yellowish, hair and deeply tanned, handsome aquiline features which were indicative of his Indian blood. He looked somewhat younger than his actual age of thirty-five. Unlike the companions he had deserted, he was bare-headed and kept his hair cut short. After leaving them, he had b.u.t.toned up his vest and, apart from the moccasins on his feet, there was nothing to set him apart from the other members of the crowd attracted by the shooting. He would not have worn the moccasins, but he always put them on when in the company of his fellow Metis as a sign that - for all his rise from humble beginnings - he was one of them at heart.

The arrival of Cavallier and his two companions at the theatre had been a mixed blessing for 'Father Devlin'. As they had brought their contribution to the purchase price of the arms and ammunition, he would have preferred that they remained in ignorance of the evening's events in case it should have an adverse effect upon his future dealings with them. On the other hand, although Cavallier had refused to consider the suggestion that they killed Colin Gorr-Kauphin, they had offered a means of ensuring Raoul Fourmies carried out the task.

When the affair had gone wrong, le Loup-Garou had not felt the slightest compunction over deserting his companions. He had realised that he could do little to help them and considered his own life was too important to be squandered. So he had retreated and, when he had decided he could do so without attracting attention to himself, had joined the crowd outside the hospital to see what he could find out.

When Ballinger had emerged in the company of the man and woman who had rushed out of the office with him, Cavallier had concluded that it might be worthwhile to learn more about them. He had heard enough from members of the hospital staff to know that Fourmies and Gorr-Kauphin were dead, but there was no mention of the couple's partic.i.p.ation. Instead, it appeared that the lieutenant was claiming credit for killing the artist and the two Metis for himself and the detective sergeant who had also lost his life.

Knowing who and what Ballinger was, le Loup-Garou was no longer sure of the Kid's status. At first, he had thought the Englishman was merely another detective. The fact that his partic.i.p.ation had been concealed suggested this could not be the case. There would have been no need to keep him out of it if that was his official capacity.

Puzzled as he was by the Kid, Cavallier had found Belle even more intriguing. Everything he had seen ruled out the possibility that she was no more than a member of the hospital's staff, or a close acquaintance of one or other man and there by chance. So he wondered what her exact status might be. Being more concerned with her male companions, he had formed no more than a fleeting impression of her looks and build as she was running across the entrance hall to the stairs. He had not even noticed the dismantling of the parasol. Nor, as she had raised the hood of the Kerry coat, had he been able to see her face as she left the hospital and went by on the other side of the street.

Le Loup-Garou still had not reached any conclusions regarding Belle and the Kid by the time they were pa.s.sing through the streets of 'Frog Town'. Then the way in which they started to behave implied that they were near to their destination. Realising what it must be, he decided that his decision to follow them might produce positive and useful information.

1 For the benefit of new readers, the Colt 'Storekeeper' differed from the other models of the 1873 Model P 'Peacemaker' - details of which are given in various of the author's works - by having a shorter barrel, 3", 3.5", or 4" in length and having no ejector rod fitted. J.T.E.

2 Agar 'Coffee-Mill' gun: an early and comparatively successful type of machine gun. Its name derived from the funnel-like magazine resembling the hopper of a coffee-mill into which the beans were fed for grinding. J.T.E.

3 How and why the scheme failed is told in; THE DEVIL GUN. J.T.E.

4 'Chicago' is said to be a corruption of the Objibwa Indian words, 'she-kag-ong', meaning 'wild onion place'. J.T.E.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

I'LL ONLY DEAL WITH HIM.

With the time almost midnight, the streets of the French quarter were practically deserted; a factor which had done nothing to lessen Arnaud Cavallier's difficulties in keeping Belle Boyd, Captain Patrick Reeder and Lieutenant Edward Ballinger under observation while they were walking from the Streeterville Munic.i.p.al Hospital. However, one establishment in the business section was still open. At least, although its front door was closed, lights showed through the windows of the rendezvous nominated by Marcel Tinville for transacting further business with the Rebel Spy and her non-existent criminal accomplice.

Unaware of the unseen watcher's interest in their doings, but inadvertently keeping her back to him and still denying him an opportunity to see her face, Belle removed and handed the Kerry coat to the Remittance Kid. As Tinville had already met the Englishman and might recognise Ballinger or be warned of his official status, they had consented - somewhat reluctantly on the latter's part - to her entering the Bistro le Ma.r.s.eillaise unescorted. Although they would be ready to rush in if the need should arise, they could not wait too close in case any of the occupants were keeping watch on the street. So, as she might be compelled to defend herself prior to their arrival, she had no intention of being enc.u.mbered by the garment which had inadvertently served to conceal her features from le Loup-Garou. However, in the interests of self protection, she was retaining her harmless-looking parasol.

In spite of its name, the Bistro le Ma.r.s.eillaise was a medium-sized and moderately luxurious tavern very little different in outwards appearance from similar establishments owned by the same brewery in districts dominated by other racial groups. Internally, with the emphasis being on French wines and brandy as the main source of liquid refreshment - rather than beer, schnapps, chianti, whiskey or other appropriate ethnically orientated potables - there were further indications that the proprietor and the majority of his clientele had their origins in the country in honour of whose national anthem it was named.1 Studying the barroom through the window as she went by, Belle could see only two occupants. Seated at a table in the centre, facing the front door, Tinville was now clean shaven and had a worried, furtive look.

Behind the bar, the proprietor - Henri 'Papa' Ghamplain - was a typical stout, florid, blue-jowelled and heavily moustached Frenchman of the Midi.2 A black beret tilted at a rakish angle on his head of grey-streaked black hair and seemed frivolous when compared with the hard, unsmiling gravity of his features. Of full habit, he had on a tight-fitting blue and white striped shirt from the short sleeves of which emerged hairy and powerfully muscled arms. His appearance and bearing was that of the kind of savage martinet non-commissioned officer whose discipline brought terror to the enlisted men of the French Army. Whatever he had been in the past, Ballinger had told Belle he was now acknowledged as a leader of the French community in Chicago and was also among other criminal activities, suspected of being a receiver of stolen goods, drawing his business from those members of the underworld who were disinclined to deal with Phineas Branigan.

Not until the Rebel Spy had entered did she discover there were two more men present and she realised that her companions would have been detected if they had come any closer.

Standing on either side of the door, the pair were tall and burly. Despite being clad in a fashion which would not have distinguished them as members of any particular racial group, their faces had sufficient of a family resemblance to suggest that they were closely related to the proprietor.

They were, in fact, his sons, Andre and Claude.

Walking onwards, knowing she would almost certainly be prevented from leaving, Belle kept a watch on the brothers via the mirror behind the bar. After a glance out of the window through which she had looked in pa.s.sing, Andre gave a nod and his younger brother stepped across to turn the key and lock the door. Showing not the slightest sign of being aware of what was happening behind her, she approached the man she had come to see. She was, however, relieved to notice that Andre was no longer keeping the street under observation. Instead, he and Claude were starting to follow her in a slow, yet significantly silent and cautious fashion.

In addition to keeping the brothers under observation, the Rebel Spy studied Tinville. There was an air of tension about him and, as she approached, he threw a worried glance at Papa Champlain to receive what was clearly a threatening scowl in reply. Making no attempt to rise as she came to a halt at the opposite side of the table, the actor's att.i.tude was suggestive of a readiness to take flight at a moment's notice rather than that he was hoping to receive a promised sum of money for supplying bogus information to her.

'h.e.l.lo, Mr Lebrun,' Belle greeted, using the name by which Tinville had introduced himself. Still nothing in her demeanour, not even the casual seeming way in which her left hand went to the waistband of the skirt, hinted that she was maintaining her surveillance of the Champlain brothers as they came to a halt a few feet to the rear and on either side of her. Employing the poorly educated Southron's accent, she continued, 'My "gennelman" friend surely thanks you-all for what you told us. He had a lil mite of trouble, but nothing that amounted to nothing. And the money was right where you-all said 'n' he got clean away with it.'

'Hasn't he come with you?' the actor inquired, while Papa Champlain darted an interrogative glance at Andre and received a shake of the head to indicate a negative answer to the unspoken question.

'Land's sakes, no!' Belle replied, watching the exchange between father and son. She was relieved by the evidence that her companions' presence in the vicinity remained unsuspected. 'He just sent me along with the money and said for you-all to tell me where that fancy English acting woman's got all her jewellery hid.'

'That's not good enough!' Tinville objected, as he had been instructed, concluding from the direct way in which his visitor was speaking that she knew of Papa Champlain's illicit activities. Although he wondered whether the as yet unseen 'gennelman friend' really existed, as the girl had been alone when he had opened the back door of O'Malley's Grand Emerald Isle Theatre in answer to the signal knock they had decided upon, he continued sounding more frightened than determined, 'I'll only deal with him.'

'Why I declare my loving man wouldn't like that one lil bit at all!' Belle warned, standing as tense as the compressed coil spring of her parasol's billy for all her apparent relaxation. 'He's kind of shy and retiring when it comes to "sociable-ising" with strangers, like I've already told you-all.'

'That's the only way I'll do any more business with him!' Tinville stated, after throwing another worried look at the grim-faced man behind the counter and being given another nod of command. 'So you're going to take us to him.'

'Us?' Belle repeated, sounding more puzzled than was the case. Then, as if realising the import of the word, she went on with a mixture of well simulated alarm and indignation. 'You-all surely don't mean you want lil ole me to take you and somebody else to meet him?'

'That's just what he means, mademoiselle,' Papa Champlain confirmed huskily, his English heavily accented in the French fashion. 'My two fine sons will accompany you.'

'Why sir, there's only one thing I can say to that' Belle answered mildly. Giving a sharp tug at the strap of her waistband so that it opened and allowed the top of the skirt to expand, she raised her voice to yell, 'HELP!'

Having been told by their father how they should act, their talents laying more on brawn than creative thinking, Andre and Claude Champlain had kept a short distance away from the young woman so as to avoid arousing her suspicions. Realising that the need for caution was ended now Papa had delivered his p.r.o.nouncement, they began to converge upon her. It was their intention to grab her by the arms and prevent her from raising an alarm that might frighten away her 'boy friend' if he was near by. Just as they were moving forward, they heard her yell and saw the skirt starting to slide down.

The latter rather than the shout caused the brothers to pause!

From his final scrutiny of the street, Andre felt sure there was n.o.body close enough to hear and come in answer to the appeal for a.s.sistance. Claude had not given the matter any thought. So they both acted in the same way. Being healthy young men with a full measure of the traditional Gallic interest in members of the opposite s.e.x, their eyes followed the descent of the girl's skirt with eager antic.i.p.ation. They found themselves disappointed by the view. Each was expecting that some form of feminine underclothing would be revealed, the briefer the better, but saw only masculine - if most attractively filled, black riding breeches and Hessian boots.

Having taken the requisite action to rid herself of hindrance from the skirt, the Rebel Spy's left hand flashed to the body of the parasol. A twist separated it from the handle and left the way clear for the spring-loaded billy to be brought into use, but she did not toss it aside as she had in the hospital's entrance hall. Instead, rotating swiftly at the hips, she swung it in an upwards arc.

Belle had not neglected to continue watching the brothers and, seeing that Andre was recovering his wits faster than Claude, made him the first object of her attentions. Rising with all the wiry strength of her slenderly muscled body behind it, the point of the steel ferrule jabbed him hard - beneath his chin. Letting out a pained and startled squawk, he went into an involuntary retreat.

'What's happening - ?' Claude gasped in French, jerking his gaze from the tight seat of the riding breeches in time to see his elder brother staggering away from their intended victim.

The question went uncompleted!

Reversing her torso's direction with an equal rapidity and turning her right hand palm upwards, Belle delivered just as painfully effective a thrust with the steel k.n.o.b of the billy to the same target as she had selected on Andre. Caught unawares and unprepared, Claude discovered what had caused his brother's reaction. Croaking instead of continuing speaking, he backed away just as hurriedly.

While dealing with the brothers, the Rebel Spy was not unaware that there might be other threats to her well being. She saw that, registering an even greater alarm and consternation, Tinville was thrusting back his chair as he started to rise. However, she considered he would be the least of her problems. Not only was Papa Champlain showing anger mingled with amazement over the way in which the situation was developing, he was grabbing for something beneath the counter. It required little deductive genius to decide that the concealed object was a firearm of some kind. Nor did Belle need to exert any excessive amount of thought to realise just how grave a peril she was facing.

Wanting only to escape, Tinville was no threat!

Nor, although neither was as yet incapacitated, were the two brothers too serious a danger while she held the spring-loaded billy ready for instant use for she would no longer need to restrict herself to merely jabbing. She was confident in her speed and agility being sufficient to keep her out of either's reach until she could bring the device into the kind of use for which it was designed.

Being too far away for Belle to reach him before he was able to raise whatever kind of weapon he was picking up, it was Papa Champlain who would put her in jeopardy.

Even as she was reaching the unpalatable conclusion with regard to the proprietor, Belle was bringing up her right leg. Hooking the toe of the Hessian boot under the table, she lifted and shoved. Sliding from its top as it tilted, Tinville's bottle of wine and gla.s.s preceded it in tumbling on to his lap. He gave a frightened wail as, trying to avoid all three, he overturned his chair and sprawled backwards on to the floor.

Satisfied with her effort as far as the actor was concerned, the Rebel Spy still had no idea how she might cope with Papa Champlain.

Having crossed to approach the Bistro le Ma.r.s.eillaise from the opposite side of the street and reduce the chances of being seen, even though they were relying upon Belle to keep the occupants' attention away from the windows, the Kid and Ballinger were halfway back when they heard her shout for help. They had already drawn their Webley revolvers and darted forward without worrying any longer about remaining undetected. The detective did not know that the door was locked, but he still swung his left shoulder forward and charged it open. Experience had taught him the value of making a noisy and dramatic entrance. Such shock tactics were likely to distract the people upon whom he was literally bursting in and he took the precaution instinctively.

'Don't!' the Kid roared, springing across the threshold on Ballinger's heels and coming to a halt with his Webley R.I.C. revolver held in the shoulder level, double handed grip which allowed for accurate sighting. 'You're a dead man if you do!'