The Blue Lights: A Detective Story

"Well, Monsieur, give me the letter, since you say it is for me," he heard Valentin saying.

In an instant he had recovered his self possession. "Here," he exclaimed, handing the note to the man before him. "It is from Mary Lanahan. I have read it."

"You have read it, Monsieur!" Valentin exclaimed, angrily. "By what right, then, do you presume to read my letters?" He took the note and hurriedly read its contents. "Sacré!" he exclaimed. "What does this mean?"

"It means, my friend, that I want that box of gold-tipped cigarettes."

Grace started. So Richard, too, was interested in the recovery of these mysterious cigarettes. What on earth, she wondered, could it mean?

"In the first place, Monsieur, let me inform you that I have no cigarettes, gold-tipped or otherwise. In the second place, I question your right to make any such demands."

"Does not the note from Mary Lanahan request you to destroy them?"

Valentin turned pale. "I tell you I have no such cigarettes!" he cried.

"Are they not the sort, then, that you usually smoke?"

"I do not smoke at all, Monsieur."

Duvall laughed. "So you both tell the same story, it seems. My friend, I dislike to discuss these matters before a stranger." He glanced significantly at Grace.

She dared not go. To speak – even to bid Valentin good evening, would, she felt sure, betray her. So she remained silent.

"Then take yourself off. I certainly have no desire to discuss them. I tell you, I do not smoke – I have no cigarettes – that is enough!"

"What does that note mean, then?" asked Duvall sternly.

"That is Miss Lanahan's affair – and mine."

Duvall drew out his pocketbook, and extracted from it the bit of cigarette stump, with the gold tip, which he had found that morning in the Bois de Boulogne. "Monsieur Valentin," he said, "I found this end of a cigarette at the exact place in the grass, in the Bois de Boulogne, where Mr. Stapleton's child and nurse were, when the boy was stolen. The chauffeur was asleep. You could readily have walked up, taken away the child, and no one would have been the wiser. The story of Mary Lanahan, that no one came near her, that the boy disappeared into thin air, is absurd. The presence of the half-smoked cigarette, of a kind which I have reason to believe you use, convinces me that you were there in the Bois, with the nurse, at the time of the kidnapping – if indeed you did not take an active part in it. The message from Mary Lanahan, which I have just handed you, directing you to destroy the cigarettes, – which, no doubt, she feared, after my questioning, might be used as evidence against you, – serves as strong additional proof. I believe that you know where Mr. Stapleton's child is."

The statements which her husband made convinced Grace that she had made a mistake in confiding in Valentin. She herself had seen the gold-tipped cigarettes on his table – had seen them stolen. It was not very conclusive evidence, she realized; but, taken with the nurse's letter, it was significant.

Valentin, however, did not appear to be greatly alarmed by the detective's charges. "You are mistaken, Monsieur," he said quietly. "I know nothing about the affair."

"Then what does this note mean?"

"That I cannot tell you. And, if you have any other questions to ask, I beg that you will come again – at another time. I, as you see, am engaged for the moment." He indicated Grace with a glance.

Duvall looked about, then turned to the door. His object in coming had been fulfilled. He had seen Valentin – located him – he hoped frightened him. It was one of his theories that a man, frightened by the knowledge that he is being closely pursued, is far more likely to make a false step, than one who fancies himself secure.

He darted a curious glance at Grace, as he left the room; but her face, concealed in the shadow, told him nothing. Her silent presence filled him with strange disquietude. He stationed himself outside the doorway of the house, determined to learn, if possible, who she was, by following her, when she left the place. He had not counted on Valentin's being with her.

The two left the house together, and the man at once called a cab. Into this he put Grace, all the while eying Duvall savagely. The latter gave up all ideas of pursuing Grace, and returned, somewhat disgruntled, to his hotel. He had barely reached it, when a message was brought to him, summoning him to Mr. Stapleton's house.

Grace, meanwhile, had driven at once to the banker's, and delivered to him the message with which she had been intrusted by the man in the black mask that morning.

Mr. Stapleton's face grew more and more angry as she proceeded with her story. He jumped up, as soon as he learned the purport of it, and, ringing up Duvall's hotel, requested the detective to come to him at once. Then he turned to Grace.

"You have no idea where this place is located?"

"Not the slightest."

"You say you saw my boy? He was safe?"

"I saw a child, which I was told was yours, Mr. Stapleton. I did not recognize him, of course. You know I have never seen your son. Also, he was dressed as a girl."

Mr. Stapleton produced a photograph with nervous haste. "Was he like this?" he demanded.

"Yes. It was the same." There was sufficient resemblance, even in the disguise the boy wore, for Grace to be practically certain of his identity.

"How am I to know that these scoundrels will keep their word?" Mr. Stapleton groaned, his head on his hands.

"Do you intend, then, to give them the money?"

"Certainly. Do you suppose I would take any chances, for the matter of a hundred thousand dollars – or twice as much, for that matter? His mother and I are unable to sleep, to eat, to do anything in fact, under the strain of this thing. I shall by all means do as they ask."

"But they will get away."

"That is nothing to me. Let them. Once my boy is safe, I can spend another hundred thousand to catch them; but not now – when one false step might mean his death."

"They won't harm him, Mr. Stapleton. They are too anxious for the money, to let anything happen to him."

"I'll take no chances."

Grace rose. "Then I might as well be going," she said. "I don't see that I can do anything more. I shall report the matter to the Prefect of Police at once."

"Very well. And be good enough to say to him that I particularly desire that no steps be taken to prevent the carrying out of the plan. I shall pay this money and regain my boy. After that, the police may do as they like. Good evening."

"Good evening." Grace left the house, feeling singularly disappointed, in spite of the fact that Mr. Stapleton's decision apparently meant that Richard's work in Paris, as well as her own, was likely to be brought to a sudden termination.

As she was leaving the house, she saw Richard drive up in a cab. The sight of him filled her with joy; although she was forced to conceal it, and pass him by with a look of indifference. In the darkness, she knew she was safe. He recognized her of course, – recognized her, that is, as the woman he had seen in Valentin's room, – and her presence here at Mr. Stapleton's house evidently filled him with surprise. For a moment, she thought he was about to speak to her, as he descended from his cab; but she turned away and hurried down the street, and when she looked back, he had entered the house.

CHAPTER VII

MR. STAPLETON was standing in the middle of the library, when Duvall entered. He turned to him excitedly.

"Mr. Duvall," he said, "I have just heard news that I hope will restore my boy to me within the next twenty-four hours!"

"From the woman who just left the house?"

"Yes."

"Who is she?"

"An agent of the police."

"Ah! Are you certain of that?"

"I know only what she says."

Duvall looked at him curiously. "What is the news she has brought you?"

"A message from the scoundrels who have stolen the child. They want a hundred thousand dollars, to return him."

"And she brought you that message?"

"Yes." The banker regarded his questioner uneasily.

"Does it not seem rather singular, Mr. Stapleton, that a member of the Paris police should come to you with a message from the kidnappers?"

Mr. Stapleton frowned. "I had not considered that aspect of the case, Mr. Duvall. I was – and am – too anxious to get my boy back, to care by whom these fellows deliver their terms."

"What was the message, Mr. Stapleton?"

"I am to drive along the road to Versailles tomorrow evening, leaving here at eight o'clock, and moving at the rate of twelve miles an hour. Somewhere on that road, an automobile in passing will signal me with a blue light. I am then to slow up and toss into the other machine a package containing one hundred thousand dollars. If I do this, and make no attempt to follow or capture the rascals, they agree to deliver the child here – at my house – by the time I return home."

Duvall listened to Mr. Stapleton's words with growing interest. "They are a shrewd lot," he exclaimed. "They will get away in their machine, and have ample opportunity to examine the package to see that it contains the amount they demand. By signaling to confederates at any point along the road, or in another automobile, they can advise them whether or not to return the child."

"But how will they be able to do this, without running the risk of being caught?"

"That is easy. They take the boy to Paris, employ a passerby – a man of their own class, no doubt – for a few francs, to deliver him at your door. To trace them, through that means, will be impossible. If you give them the money, the chances are that they will never be caught."

"Nevertheless, I shall give it to them."

"I expected that, Mr. Stapleton. I can understand your feelings. It is not right, of course, to submit to this blackmail; but no doubt, were I situated as you are, I would do the same thing. Still, it is a great pity."

"Why?"

"Because we have an excellent chance to capture these fellows."

"And lose the boy!"

"Yes, that might be true. Such men are apt to retaliate very promptly, and very severely. They have no pity. I wish I might handle the case to suit myself."

"What would you do?"

"I would arrange to follow you, in a fast car, keeping say five hundred feet in the rear. I should have several men, well armed, in the car. By watching carefully, with field glasses if necessary, I would observe the car which signaled you with the blue light. When this car passed me, I would follow, but make no move which would alarm the kidnappers until they had given the signal – whatever it is – that would ensure your boy being returned to you. Then I would close in on them, and arrest them."

"Your plan, Mr. Duvall, is open to serious objections. Suppose these men, undoubtedly on the watch, observe that they are being followed. They will give no signal – and I will lose not only my child, but the one hundred thousand dollars as well. No, no, I want no interference in the matter whatever."

Duvall remained a moment in silence. "Very well, Mr. Stapleton, I am under your orders, of course. But I dislike very much to see these fellows get away."

"So do I; but there's no help for it."

"If I can work out a plan for their capture, which will not involve the loss of the boy, you are willing, I take it, to let me go ahead?"

"Yes; but I insist that you first submit the plan to me."

"Very well. And now, another matter. This woman who brought the message to you is, you say, an agent of the police. Did she attempt to explain how she came by the message?"

"Yes. She was forcibly abducted, last night, carried a long distance out into the country, and the instructions given her. She was brought back to Paris, blindfolded, tonight."

"Mr. Stapleton, what would you say were I to tell you that less than an hour ago I saw this woman in the rooms of Alphonse Valentin, a man whom I suspect to be very deeply concerned in the kidnapping of your son?"

Stapleton started. "Is it possible?" he said. "Have you any idea what she was doing there?"

"No. They seemed on excellent terms, however. Of course, it is not impossible that an agent of the police might pose as a friend of one of the criminals, and thus obtain information. But it looks decidedly queer."

"It does, indeed. Still, as I said before, if I get my boy back, I shall be satisfied." He took a turn about the room, chewing nervously upon his long black cigar. "Now, Mr. Duvall, what is your plan to capture these fellows?"

Duvall sat in deep thought for sometime. "It is not an easy matter, Mr. Stapleton, but there is one way which promises success, and that, too, without interfering with your arrangements to recover your boy."

"What is it?"

"This. It is necessary for us, in some way, to identify the car which gives you the signal of the blue light. It will pass close to you, at a moderate speed. I want you to mark that car, so that it may be recognized at once."

"How can I do that?"

"I will place in the bottom of your machine a small device, consisting of a rubber bulb, equipped with a small nozzle, projecting through a hole in the body of the car. The bulb will be filled with indelible red stain. When you stand up, to toss the package of money to the kidnappers, you must press this bulb with your foot. The two cars will then be side by side. The pressure on the bulb will discharge a blast of the red stain against the body and wheels of the car opposite you. It will then be a simple matter to identify it."

"Yes – yes. I see that. But what then?"

"The car, in passing you, will be headed for Paris. Undoubtedly it is the intention of these fellows to enter the city. I shall station myself at the Porte de Versailles, and I will arrange to have other men, members of the detective bureau, stationed at the neighboring gates in the fortifications. All cars entering the city will be momentarily halted. The one which bears upon its body or wheels the red stain will be seized, its occupants arrested."

"But suppose they have not yet notified their confederates to return the boy to me?"

"In that event, I feel certain that the child will be found in the automobile with them. Look at the thing as you would, were you in their place. They are forced to act with great quickness. Were they to signal, by lights or otherwise, to persons along the road, they could hardly hope to get the boy to your house before you yourself return there. They know you will return home immediately at your best speed as soon as you have delivered the money to them. What more likely, then, that they will have the boy with them in the car, will drive to some prearranged point in Paris, and deliver him to the person who will bring him to your house? That would seem, to my mind, their most probable plan."

"And if not – if the child is not with them?"

"Then there are but two courses open to them. The first is to signal, by lights or otherwise, to their confederates, before they enter Paris. If they do this, the boy will be returned to you, and we will capture the men as well. The only other alternative, of course, is for them to notify their confederates after they enter Paris."

"But, if you arrest him at the barrier, they cannot do that, and my boy will not be sent back."

"That is true; but I do not think they will wait to notify their confederates until after they enter Paris."

"Why not, Mr. Duvall?"

"First, because of the danger of being observed, in the crowded streets of the city. Secondly, because I do not think the child is in Paris at all. The woman who brought you the message from the kidnappers, I understand, saw the child at a point some distance in the country. It seems unlikely that these men would run the risk of conveying the child into the city, in broad daylight. By having the boy with them in the car, they avoid all danger of signaling anybody. They merely inspect the package of money, run into Paris, fully believing themselves for the time being safe, drop the child at a convenient point, divide the plunder, and scatter to their respective hiding places. Criminals of this sort know perfectly well that they are far safer, hiding in a big city, than fleeing through the country in an automobile. I feel scarcely any doubt that they have the child with them."

"But if he is still in the country, and they wait until after they are in Paris before notifying their confederates?"

"Then the latter are obliged to journey a long distance out into the country, get the child, and bring him back to your house. That would require a considerable period. They could not possibly do it before you return home."

Mr. Stapleton considered the matter for a long time in silence. "Your arguments seem sound, Mr. Duvall," he presently observed. "Like yourself, I am anxious to capture these fellows. It makes my blood boil, to think of their getting away. Of course, your deductions may be wrong."

"Then at least we will get the perpetrators of the crime, and it is most likely that one of them, at least, may be persuaded to turn state's evidence, and disclose the whereabouts of your son."

Mr. Stapleton pondered the matter with great care. Evidently he feared any course of action which did not insure the return of the child.

"It seems to me, Mr. Stapleton," the detective went on, "that you owe it to the public to let me make this effort to capture these fellows. It is a grave danger to the community, to have such rogues at large. Let me try my plan. Even if it fails, you are no worse off than you are now. The attempt cannot in any way be traced to you."

"Very well," said the banker, nervously. "It is a chance – that's all. However, since it seems to involve no breach of faith on my part, I am willing to take it."

"Good! I will bring the device I spoke of to your house tomorrow, and attach it to your car. Your man François will drive you, I presume."

"Yes."

"You trust him?"

"I have no reasons for not doing so. And besides he will know nothing of the affair. His part will be merely to drive the car, as I direct him."

Duvall thought for a moment. "You will not, of course, give him his instructions until the last moment – just before you start."

"No. That will be best, I think."

"Undoubtedly. And to avoid any possible interference, I think I had better not attach the identifying device of which I have spoken to your car until late tomorrow afternoon, immediately before you set out. Then, if by any chance your chauffeur is in this plot, he will have no opportunity to give a warning."

"Very well. I think, however, that your precautions are needless. There has been nothing whatever brought out to connect François with this matter."

"I know; but it is well to be careful. You will leave here tomorrow evening, at eight o'clock?"

"Yes. Promptly at eight."

"You might do well to have someone with you, some member of the police, perhaps."

"The instructions expressly forbid it."

"Ah – I see. These fellows are shrewd." He took up his hat. "Until tomorrow then. Good night."

"Good night."

CHAPTER VIII

AT the same hour that Richard Duvall was arranging with Mr. Stapleton his plan for the capture of the kidnappers the following day, Grace was closeted with Monsieur Lefevre, the Prefect of Police, in the latter's library, going over the affair in all its details. The Prefect was speaking, ticking off on his fingers the points in the case as he proceeded.

"First, we have the impossible story of the nurse, Mary Lanahan. She seems to be telling the truth; yet I believe she is lying. In my opinion, she is deeply concerned in the whole matter."

"But what about the attempt to poison her?"

"It is highly probable that she poisoned herself, taking a slight dose only. This would divert suspicion from her."

"I see."

"Then we have the case of Alphonse Valentin, and the mysterious gold-tipped cigarettes. Your husband, Monsieur Duvall, I am informed, has found one of these cigarettes, partly smoked, on the grass at the scene of the crime. This might indicate that Valentin was there, with her, on some occasion, but not necessarily on the day the kidnapping occurred. It might readily have been the day before – or the week before, for that matter."

"I thought of that," remarked Grace, quietly. "It seems to me that Richard attached too much importance to the matter."

"That remains to be seen. Now, supposing Valentin to be concerned, with the nurse, in the plot. He of course does not think, at the start, that the possession of the cigarettes would involve him in the affair, because he does not know that Monsieur Duvall has found the one in the grass. Your husband, however, asks Mary Lanahan what kind of cigarettes Valentin smokes. She at once becomes suspicious, and at the first opportunity warns Valentin, by letter, to destroy them. That shows clearly that they are working together."

"Undoubtedly. But meanwhile the cigarettes are stolen from Valentin's room by a man with a dark beard, who subsequently enters Mr. Stapleton's house. For that, I confess, I can find no explanation."

"Nor I. The destruction of the cigarettes could be of no importance to anyone, except to the kidnappers themselves. It is of course possible that someone else in Mr. Stapleton's house – François, for instance – is concerned in the plot."

"But the man who took the cigarettes had a black beard, while François is smooth shaven."

"I know. But it might have been a disguise."

"I do not think so. The man I saw was taller than François, and not so heavily built."

The Prefect considered the matter for a moment. "You are certain that he entered the Stapleton's house?"

"Absolutely certain. I saw the gate close behind him."

"Then I can only say that, so far, the matter is inexplicable. Now let us come back to Valentin. He claims to be working to capture the kidnappers – in order to clear the nurse, whom he loves."

"That is as I understand it."

"He denies that he smokes, yet offers no explanation of the presence of the cigarettes in his room."

"None. Further, someone sends a note to Valentin, advising him that the writer is suspicious of François – suggesting that he watch him. Can this mean that François is in the plot, and they fear he may be weakening – preparing to turn against them?"

"It certainly looks that way."

"I wish I could see one of these famous cigarettes."

Grace laughed suddenly. "Why," she exclaimed, "I have one in my pocketbook. I had quite forgotten it." She opened her purse and took out the slender white cylinder.

Lefevre examined the thing closely. "An Egyptian cigarette of American make," he mused. "Expensive, here in Paris, and rarely used, except by Americans."

"That is true; yet I understand that this man Valentin has lived a great deal in America."

For a moment the Prefect did not reply. Then a puzzled look crossed his face. "This is a woman's cigarette," he exclaimed. "No man would smoke such a thing." He brought his hand down sharply upon his knee. "My girl, it is not impossible that the child was stolen not by a man at all, but by a woman."

"A woman, apparently, that both Valentin and the nurse are trying to shield."

The Prefect sat for a moment buried in thought. Then he glanced at Grace keenly. "It seems to me," he remarked, in a quiet tone, "that we should endeavor to determine whether or not Mrs. Stapleton is in the habit of using cigarettes."

"Mrs. Stapleton!" gasped Grace, in amazement.

"Yes. I confess the idea is a new one, to me; but it may prove of interest."

"But why should the boy's mother wish to kidnap him?"

"I do not know. There is but one point of significance. During the past week my men have, naturally, questioned Mrs. Stapleton closely as to her movements during the past two or three months. They did this, to determine, if possible, whether the criminals were of Paris, or from some other place, where Mrs. Stapleton may have been, with the child, during the past winter. You know these fellows work in bands, and have their regular field of operations."

"I see. And where had she been?"

"Monte Carlo!" The Prefect uttered the two words significantly.

Grace was quick to grasp his meaning.

"Then you mean that possibly Mrs. Stapleton may have lost large sums at the gambling tables, and, fearing to tell her husband of her losses, has enlisted the services of the nurse, and of her friend Valentin, and spirited the child away for a few weeks, in order to get the sum of one hundred thousand dollars from her husband without his knowledge?"