The Ivory Snuff Box

CHAPTER XXII

It was characteristic of Monsieur Etiènne Lefevre, Prefect of Police of Paris, that when he had once placed a case in the hands of one of his men, he rarely ever interfered in any way with the latter's conduct of it. Reports of progress he did not desire, nor encourage. Success was the only report that he asked, and by thus throwing his subordinates upon their own responsibility, he obtained from them far better results than would have been the case had he kept in constant touch with their movements.

Hence when he dispatched Richard Duvall, and Monsieur Dufrenne, the little curio dealer of the Rue de Richelieu, to London, and the former's wife and later on Lablanche to Brussels, he felt that he had done all that it was possible to do, to secure the recovery of Monsieur de Grissac's stolen snuff box.

He did not, it is true, dismiss the matter from his mind – it was, indeed, of too grave and sinister a character to be treated thus lightly, but he had the utmost confidence in Duvall, and believed that the latter would without doubt succeed in his quest.

Since Duvall's departure, he had waited anxiously for the detective's appearance. He did not expect to hear from him, but felt convinced that within the next day or two he would walk into his office with the missing snuff box in his pocket.

It was with some dismay, therefore, that he received, on the fourth day, a sudden visit from Dufrenne. The latter had been released, the day before, by the Brussels police, after a most uncomfortable night in a cell, an experience for which he knew he had Hartmann to thank, and in desperation had decided to place the condition of affairs before his chief.

The latter had heard him in silence, and then followed a long conference, with the result that Dufrenne returned to Brussels, bearing the mysterious message subsequently given to Grace by Lablanche, to play The Rosary upon the phonograph.

Since then, the Prefect had been in a state of profound agitation, although he carefully concealed the fact from his subordinates. The gravity of the issues at stake tortured him ceaselessly, and to add to his discomfort, Monsieur de Grissac arrived from London, determined to ascertain what progress, if any, had been made toward the recovery of his lost property.

He was bitterly disappointed to find that Lefevre was unable to give him the slightest encouragement. The box had not, he believed, passed into the hands of their enemies, but beyond that he could say nothing.

It was on the day of the Ambassador's arrival that Dufrenne appeared at the Prefecture a second time, his face pale and haggard, his eyes bloodshot and sunken from loss of sleep, his whole manner indicating that he had lately passed through some terrible experience. De Grissac was closeted with the Prefect at the time, but the man's appearance, his urgent request that he see Monsieur Lefevre at once, gained him an immediate audience.

The Prefect and the Ambassador stood awaiting his entrance, their faces tense with anxiety. The expression upon the old man's countenance confirmed their worst fears. He staggered into the room, grasping the back of a chair to support himself. "He has given it up – the scoundrel – the traitor; he has given it up, to save himself and his wife."

The Ambassador turned away with a groan of despair. Lefevre stepped up to Dufrenne. "You mean to tell me," he cried, "that Richard Duvall has proven false to his duty? I cannot believe it."

Dufrenne nodded. "He gave it to Hartmann last night. I saw him do it. Hartmann had promised to let him go free. They had been torturing him, in some way, I do not know how. It was the woman who weakened first. The man – Duvall – gave up the box to save her from doing so."

"Then she knew where it was?"

"Yes."

The Prefect went over to the window and looked out over the Seine. His emotions almost overcame him. The loss of the box – Duvall's faithlessness – his own failure, all plunged him into the deepest despair. "Mon Dieu!" he muttered to himself. "Duvall – it is incredible!"

Suddenly he turned. The Ambassador had begun to question Dufrenne. "What did this Dr. Hartmann do, when the box was given to him?" he asked in a voice trembling with excitement.

"He pressed the large pearl, pushed aside the cross, and removed the paper that was hidden beneath it. He read the paper. It contained nothing but a row of numbers. I saw it as he held it beneath the light."

De Grissac became as white as chalk, and turning to Lefevre, cried out, in a broken voice, "It is all over. Nothing can be done now. It is too late. Mon Dieu! What will become of France?"

"Where is Duvall?" cried the Prefect, suddenly. "I must see him. He is not the man to do such a thing as this. I must talk to him. Do not tell me that he has run away."

"No, monsieur. He is outside, he and his wife. I have placed them both under arrest."

"Were they attempting to escape?"

"No, monsieur. They were coming to Paris."

"At least," the Prefect remarked, mournfully, "he is not cowardly enough for that. Bring him here – bring them both here at once. I must question them."

Dufrenne turned to the door. "In a moment, monsieur, they will be before you."

"What can it avail now?" said De Grissac, sadly.

"We shall see. I never condemn a man without a hearing." As he spoke, Duvall and Grace came into the room.

The Prefect looked at his young assistant with an expression both grave and sad. He had always been very fond of Duvall – he was fond of him still. The whole matter had hurt him very deeply.

"Monsieur Duvall," he said, without further preliminaries, "Monsieur Dufrenne tells me that you, after recovering Monsieur de Grissac's snuff box from Dr. Hartmann, deliberately returned it to him last night, in order to secure your liberty and that of your wife. Is this true?"

"Yes." Duvall's voice was calm, even, emotionless. "It is true."

Lefevre recoiled as though he had received a blow. "Can you dare to come before me, and tell me such a thing as that?"

"It was my fault, Monsieur Lefevre," cried Grace, going up to him. "Richard begged me not to tell – commanded me not to tell, but they were torturing him – they were driving him mad. Oh, I could not stand it – I could not!"

"You should have considered your duty, madame, not your husband," remarked the Prefect, coldly, then turned to Duvall.

"Young man," he said, "you have done a terrible thing – perhaps even now, you do not realize how terrible a thing. I regret that I did not inform you at the time I placed the case in your hands, but the matter is one which, at all costs, I wished to have remain a secret. Now it makes little difference. Monsieur de Grissac has for many months been carrying on with the Foreign Office a correspondence regarding the relations of France and England in the matter of Morocco. Many details of action have been settled which, in the event of certain eventualities, would constitute the joint policy of the two nations. I need hardly say that these details and policies are of such a nature as to cause, if known, an immediate declaration of war by the third nation involved. This correspondence, Monsieur de Grissac, unwilling to trust to the ordinary cipher in use for such purposes, carried on in a code of his own; one which he regarded as absolutely proof against all attempts at solution. That desperate attempts to obtain copies of the correspondence would be made he well knew, and in spite of all precautions, our enemies, by bribing a subordinate, did, some time ago, manage to secure copies of many of the most important letters and documents. Their attempts at reading them, however, were fruitless. Without the cipher, and its key, they could do nothing.

"How they ultimately learned that the key and the cipher were contained in the ivory snuff box, we do not know. Perhaps through Noël, the Ambassador's servant, although Monsieur de Grissac is positive that he never, under any circumstances, made use of the cipher in the presence of a third person. That they did learn the whereabouts of the cipher, however, we now realize only too well. When I told you that in the missing snuff box lay not only my honor, but the honor of France, I indulged in no extravagant statements. It is the solemn truth. Even now, by means of the snuff box and key which you have delivered to them, our enemies have no doubt read the stolen documents, and are preparing to strike while we are as yet unprepared." He strode up and down the room in a state of extreme excitement. "As a last desperate chance, I attempted to send you a message by means of the phonograph record. I hoped you might, in this way, learn the secret of the box, and by destroying the key, render it useless. If you hesitated to do this, fearing that, should Hartmann discover the key was missing he would refuse to liberate you, you are worse than a traitor. You are a contemptible coward. Let me tell you, Monsieur Duvall, if I had a son, I should rather have struck him dead at my feet, than have had him fail me in a crisis like this."

Grace began to weep, hysterically. "It was all my fault," she began. "I told them the box was hidden in the room below, against my husband's wishes."

"Where were you, then, that you say 'in the room below?'" asked Lefevre suddenly.

"In the laboratory, on the second floor. My husband was confined in the basement. I said I would tell – for they were killing him. He cried out to me – forbidding me to do so. Then they took me away to the room above."

"And left your husband alone, with the snuff box in his possession?" demanded the Prefect, sternly.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"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 —sacré 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 documents yourself?"

The Ambassador 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 documents 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 Ambassador, 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 assistant 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. God 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 Ambassador's hand and embraced him with ardor. "Magnificent! Superb!"

The Ambassador 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 substitute a false key for the real one, the latter would never have passed 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 Ambassador, "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 gratitude 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 assistance 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.