Through the Wall Part 71

"The girl Alice or--Mary your stepdaughter."

"G.o.d Almighty!" burst out the baron. "What a guess!"

M. Paul shook his head. "No, not a guess, a fair deduction. My ring is gone. It was on my hand before you gave me that chloroform. You took it.

That means you needed it. Why? To get the girl! You knew it would bring her, though _how_ you knew it is more than I can understand."

"Gibelin heard you speak of the ring to Pougeot that night in the automobile."

"Ah! And how did you know where the girl was?"

"Guessed it partly and--had Pougeot followed."

"And she's coming here?"

The baron nodded. "She ought to be here shortly." Then with a quick, cruel smile: "I suppose you know _why_ I want her?"

"I'm afraid I do," said Coquenil.

"Suppose we come in here," suggested the other. "I'm tired holding this candle and you don't care particularly about lying on that bag of shavings."

With this he led the way through the arched pa.s.sageway into another stone chamber very much like the first, only smaller, and lined in the same way with piled-up logs. In the middle of the floor was a rough table spread with food, and two rough chairs. On the table lay the diary.

"Sit down," continued the baron. "Later on you can eat, but first we'll have a talk. Coquenil, I've watched you for years, I know all about you, and--I'll say this, you're the most interesting man I ever met. You've given me trouble, but--that's all right, you played fair, and--I like you, I like you."

There was no doubt about the genuineness of this and M. Paul glanced wonderingly across the table.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"It's a pity you couldn't see things my way. I wanted to be your friend, I wanted to help you. Just think how many times I've gone out of my way to give you chances, fine business chances."

"I know."

"And that night on the Champs Elysees! Didn't I warn you? Didn't I almost plead with you to drop this case? And you wouldn't listen?"

"That's true."

"Now see where you are! See what you've forced me to do. It's a pity; it cuts me up, Coquenil." He spoke with real sadness.

"I understand," answered M. Paul. "I appreciate what you say. There's a bond between a good detective and----"

"A _great_ detective!" put in the baron admiringly, "the greatest detective Paris has known in fifty years or will know in fifty more. Yes, yes, it's a pity!"

"I was saying," resumed the other, "that there is a bond between a detective and a criminal--I suppose it gets stronger between a--a great detective," he smiled, "and a great criminal."

De Heidelmann-Bruck looked pleased. "You regard _me_ as a great criminal?"

Coquenil nodded gravely. "I certainly do. The greatest since Ludovico Schertzi--you know he had your identical little finger."

"Really!"

"Yes. And your absolute lack of feeling about crime. Never a tremor! Never a qualm of remorse! Just cold intelligence!"

"Of course." The baron held his left hand close to the candle and looked at it critically. "Strange about that little finger! And _pretty_ the way you caught the clew of it on that photographer's neck. Poor little devil!"

"What did you do with the boots you were trying to return that night?"

questioned the detective.

"Burned them."

Coquenil was silent a moment. "And this American? What of him--now?"

"He will be tried and----" The baron shrugged his shoulders.

"And be found guilty?"

"Yes, but--with jealousy as an extenuating circ.u.mstance. He'll do a few years, say five."

"I never saw quite why you put the guilt on him."

"It had to go on some one and--he was available."

"You had nothing against him personally?"

"Oh, no. He was a p.a.w.n in the game."

"A p.a.w.n to be sacrificed--like Martinez?"

"Exactly."

"Ah, that brings me to the main point. How did Martinez get possession of your secret?"

"He met the girl accidentally and--remembered her."

"As the one he had rescued from the Charity Bazaar fire?"

"Yes. You'd better eat a little. Try some of this cold meat and salad? My cook makes rather good dressing."

"No, thanks! Speaking of cooks, how did you know the name of that canary bird?"

"Ha, ha! Pete? I knew it from the husband of the woman who opens the big gate of the Villa Montmorency. He cleans your windows, you know, and--he was useful to me."

"He knew you as--Groener?"

"Of course."

"None of these people knew you really?"

"No."