Through the Wall Part 20

"In a way."

"Persons who know about the crime--I mean, who know the truth about it?"

"Possibly."

"Hm! Do these persons know what covered the holes in Number Seven?"

"A j.a.panese print."

"And in Number Six?"

"Some yellow hangings."

"Ah!" exclaimed Coquenil in surprise. "Do they know why Martinez bored these holes?"

"To please the woman," was the prompt reply.

"Did she want Martinez killed?"

"No."

"Then why did she want the holes bored?"

"_She wanted to see into Number Seven_."

It was extraordinary, not only the man's knowledge but his unaccountable frankness. And more than ever the detective was on his guard.

"I see you know something about the affair," he said dryly. "What do you want with me?"

"The persons I represent----"

"Say the _person_ you represent," interrupted Coquenil. "A criminal of this type acts alone."

"As you like," answered the other carelessly. "Then the person I represent _wishes you to withdraw from this case_."

The message was preposterous, the manner of its delivery fantastic, yet there was something vaguely formidable in the stranger's tone, as if a great person had spoken, one absolutely sure of himself and of his power to command.

"Naturally," retorted Coquenil.

"Why do you say naturally?"

"It's natural for a criminal to wish that an effort against him should cease. Tell your friend or employer that I am only mildly interested in his wishes."

He spoke with deliberate hostility, but the dark-bearded man answered, quite unruffled: "Ah, I may be able to heighten your interest."

"Come, come, sir, my time is valuable."

The stranger drew from his coat pocket a large thick envelope fastened with an elastic band and handed it to the detective. "Whatever your time is worth," he said in a rasping voice, "I will pay for it. Please look at this."

Coquenil's curiosity was stirred. Here was no commonplace encounter, at least it was a departure from ordinary criminal methods. Who was this supercilious man? How dared he come on such an errand to him, Paul Coquenil? What desperate purpose lurked behind his self-confident mask?

Could it be that he knew the a.s.sa.s.sin or--or _was he the a.s.sa.s.sin?_

Wondering thus, M. Paul opened the tendered envelope and saw that it contained a bundle of thousand-franc notes.

"There is a large sum here," he remarked.

"Fifty thousand francs. It's for you, and as much more will be handed you the day you sail for Brazil. Just a moment--let me finish. This sum is a bonus in addition to the salary already fixed. And, remember, you have a life position there with a brilliant chance of fame. That is what you care about, I take it--fame; it is for fame you want to follow up this crime."

Coquenil snapped his fingers. "I don't care _that_ for fame. I'm going to work out this case for the sheer joy of doing it."

"You will _never_ work out this case!" The man spoke so sternly and with such a menacing ring in his voice that M. Paul felt a chill of apprehension.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because you will not be allowed to; it's doubtful if you _could_ work it out, but there's a chance that you could and we don't purpose to take that chance. You're a free agent, you can persist in this course, but if you do----"

He paused as if to check too vehement an utterance, and M. Paul caught a threatening gleam in his eyes that he long remembered.

"Why?"

"If you do, you will be thwarted at every turn, you will be made to suffer in ways you do not dream of, through those who are dear to you, through your dog, through your mother----"

"You dare--" cried Coquenil.

"We dare _anything_," flashed the stranger. "I'm daring something now, am I not? Don't you suppose I know what you are thinking? Well, I take the risk because--_because you are intelligent_."

There was something almost captivating in the very arrogance and recklessness of this audacious stranger. Never in all his experience had Coquenil known a criminal or a person directly a.s.sociated with crime, as this man must be, to boldly confront the powers of justice. Undoubtedly, the fellow realized his danger, yet he deliberately faced it. What plan could he have for getting away once his message was delivered? It must be practically delivered already, there was nothing more to say, he had offered a bribe and made a threat. A few words now for the answer, the refusal, the defiance, and--then what? Surely this brusque individual did not imagine that he, Coquenil, would be simple enough to let him go now that he had him in his power? But wait! Was that true, _was_ this man in his power?

As if answering the thought, the stranger said: "It is hopeless for you to struggle against our knowledge and our resources, quite hopeless. We have, for example, the _fullest_ information about you and your life down to the smallest detail."

"Yes?" answered Coquenil, and a twinkle of humor shone in his eyes. "What's the name of my old servant?"

"Melanie."

"What's the name of the canary bird I gave her last week?"

"It isn't a canary bird, it's a bullfinch. And its name is Pete."

"Not bad, not at all bad," muttered the other, and the twinkle in his eyes faded.

"We know the important things, too, all that concerns you, from your _forced resignation_ two years ago down to your talk yesterday with the girl at Notre-Dame. So how can you fight us? How can you shadow people who shadow you? Who watch your actions from day to day, from hour to hour? Who know _exactly_ the moment when you are weak and unprepared, as I know now that you are unarmed _because you left that pistol with Papa Tignol_."

For a moment Coquenil was silent, and then: "Here's your money," he said, returning the envelope.

"Then you refuse?"

"I refuse."