The Stretton Street Affair Part 37

"But do you antic.i.p.ate that we shall discover in Charles Rabel the notorious Despujol?" I inquired eagerly.

Rivero raised his shoulders and elevated his black eyebrows, saying:

"From facts I gathered from Mademoiselle concerning him I certainly think that we are really upon his track. It hardly seems possible, but we must remain in patience till to-morrow. Then, if we find our surmise correct, we must act with the greatest caution if we are to watch him to Nimes where he is to meet your mysterious friend--the man whose name you refuse to reveal."

"When they meet you will at once recognize him," I said. "I may be mistaken," I added. "But I do not antic.i.p.ate that I am. If all goes well, then you will arrest the notorious Despujol."

"I only wish that the fellow would fall into my hands," replied my companion. "If so, then revelations will be made that will startle Europe."

"And incidentally gain you promotion in the service--eh?" I laughed.

He nodded and admitted:

"I hope so, Senor Garfield. I sincerely hope so," he replied, and we parted for the night.

Next day I woke early and sought my friend. We idled about till nearly noon, when we went together to the railway station to watch the arrival of the train from Toulouse.

A number of people were about, for the dusty lumbering express from Bordeaux to Ma.r.s.eilles had, at that moment, arrived, and considerable bustle ensued in consequence.

While we stood watching the crowd Senor Rivero suddenly touched my arm, and whispered:

"Look yonder! The girl in dark blue! That is Mademoiselle Jacquelot!

She must not see me. I wonder why she is here--if not to warn him of the inquiries made concerning him by a stranger!"

I glanced in the direction he had indicated and saw a tall, slim, rather good-looking girl sauntering idly in our direction. Her attention had, for the moment, been diverted by an advertis.e.m.e.nt upon the wall.

"Quick!" cried my friend. "Let us slip back here."

And next moment we had repa.s.sed the barrier, back into the booking-office.

"If she sees me her suspicions will be aroused--if they are not already aroused," said my companion. "The fact that she is here gives rise to the question whether she is really so innocent as she pretends. She may know of her lover's escapades, and suspects me of having followed her out to her home."

"If she does suspect, then she is cleverer than you antic.i.p.ated," I remarked.

"Yes. But in any case we had better act independently. You return to the platform, for she has never seen you. You will remain well concealed and watch them meet, while I shall be at the exit to identify him if you find that you cannot get near enough to him without courting observation."

As he spoke the bell was clanging, and there came the roar of the engine entering the big echoing station.

I slipped back instantly upon the platform and standing at a point against the corner of the bookstand where I hoped to escape un.o.bserved, I turned my head away as the train came along. Then, when it drew up, I held my breath anxiously as I turned around.

The girl in navy blue was not far from me searching along the train until, of a sudden, she espied a man in a dark overcoat and dark-green velour hat, who had just alighted, carrying in his hand a small leather case. His countenance was ruddy, and he had a small black moustache.

My heart fell. The man was a stranger to me! The countenance was not that of the man whom I had surprised in my bedroom at Madrid. He bent and greeted her affectionately, but next moment it was apparent that she was explaining something which caused his countenance to grow serious.

He put one or two swift questions to her. Then halting suddenly, he glanced at his watch.

I strove to get sufficiently near to look well into his face, but I feared recognition.

Would he pa.s.s out of the exit where the famous Spanish detective was awaiting him? Rivero knew Despujol by photographs, and indeed had been present when he had been convicted on the last occasion a few years before.

Mademoiselle's friend hesitated for some moments, and then accosting a porter asked a question. The man pointed to a train on the opposite platform.

Was it possible that what Mademoiselle had told him had scared him?

It seemed so, for with a sudden resolve, instead of walking to the exit he entered the booking-office and bought another ticket.

In an instant I dashed to the exit where the Spaniard was waiting, and in a few breathless words told him of the man's intention.

To my amazement Senor Rivero heard me unmoved.

"I was awaiting you," he said. "The man you have been watching is not Despujol at all. Despujol, whom I recognized, pa.s.sed out a few moments ago and took a cab to his house in the Rue de Lalande."

"Then you have seen him!" I gasped.

"Yes. It is Rodriquez Despujol, without a doubt, Monsieur Garfield.

You have not been mistaken, and we must certainly thank you for putting us upon the track of this dangerous a.s.sa.s.sin."

"Then, after all, my surmise is correct! And he will go on Monday to meet his paymaster in Nimes," I said. "The plot against me failed.

Probably a second attempt is to be made."

"We shall be careful not to be seen until he travels to Nimes,"

laughed Rivero, well satisfied at the progress he had made.

"But I wonder who is the red-faced man whom Mademoiselle has met," I remarked. "She has evidently warned him of some danger."

"If that's so we ought to see him," my friend exclaimed. "Let us go together on to the platform and watch. So long as Mademoiselle does not recognize me, we are safe."

With the rea.s.suring knowledge that the man who was being sought for by the whole police of Europe had gone to his unsuspicious abode in the Rue de Lalande, we returned to the far platform where a train stood waiting to leave. It was the _rapide_ for Paris by way of Bourges. The man was already in a third-cla.s.s compartment and as he stood with his head out of the window, Mademoiselle was chatting with him. Truly his stay in Montauban had not been long.

The instant Rivero caught sight of the fellow's face, he exclaimed:

"Holy Madonna! Why, it is Mateo Sanz, the motor-bandit. We've been searching everywhere for him! He shot and killed a carabineer near Malaga a month ago!"

Next second he had left me and a few moments later hurried back. He had bought a ticket.

"Sanz does not know me. As soon as we've left the station and are away from Mademoiselle I shall be all right. Remain here. I will wire you, and in any case we shall be together in Nimes on Monday. But be careful not to be seen by Despujol. He is a wary bird, remember!"

Then, unseen by Mademoiselle, he entered a first-cla.s.s compartment of the train, just as the signal was given to start.

The train moved off, and I was left alone. Surely much had happened in those few exciting moments!

But why had Mademoiselle Jacquelot warned her friend the motor-bandit?

If she had warned him because of Rivero's inquiries concerning Despujol then she could also warn the latter. Again it was curious that she met Sanz, and did not meet Despujol. Further, it was a strange fact that the pair of Spanish criminals had not travelled together--unless there was some reason for it.

Perhaps there was.

I watched Mademoiselle as she pa.s.sed out of the station to a little restaurant where she had a frugal meal. Then she returned and took a ticket back to her home in Castelsarrasin.

Rivero now had his hands full. Not only had he identified in the respectable commercial traveller, Charles Rabel, the notorious a.s.sa.s.sin Despujol, but he had also quite accidentally come across Sanz the motor-bandit, who of late had terrorized the south of Spain, and whose daring depredations were upon everyone's lips. Mademoiselle seemed to be a friend of both men!