Frederic Kummer - The Blue Lights - A Detective Story

The weakest point in the whole scheme seemed, to Grace at least, the delivery of the child to Mr. Stapleton, provided he paid the money demanded. Just how that was to be accomplished, without subjecting the person who brought the boy to arrest, she did not see. A moment's reflection, however, showed her that a stranger might be employed, at any point, who for a few francs would agree to take the child to the house. She turned to the man before her with feelings not devoid of admiration.

"How can Mr. Stapleton know that you will do as you say?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "That is a chance he must take. If he does not believe that the child will be delivered to him, provided he pays the money, he had better not pay it. But if he does his part, I shall do mine – and this I swear by the memory of my mother!"

Grace shuddered. A wretch of this sort, talking about the memory of his mother! "Very well," she said quietly, "I will take your message."

"Good! You will not leave here, of course, until it is dark – tonight. You will be blindfolded, and conducted to some point in the city. From there, you can make your way to Monsieur Stapleton's house." He rose, and went toward the door. "Make no attempt to escape. It will be useless. Any attempts on the part of the police to interfere with the plan I have outlined will result in nothing. Food will be sent in to you at once. Good morning."

It was close to ten o'clock that night, as nearly as Grace could judge, when she was led a considerable distance blindfolded, to a closed automobile, and driven away. She could form no idea of her whereabouts. The car continued on its way, for over an hour. Once she attempted to snatch the bandage from her eyes; but a hand was placed upon her arm by another occupant of the machine, and a low voice warned her to desist.

After an interminable ride, the car suddenly stopped, and she felt the man at her side slip away from her and open the door. Instantly she snatched the bandage from her eyes. The man had disappeared. She stepped to the sidewalk, and looked about. She was standing upon a brightly lighted street, which seemed somehow familiar to her. The man on the box of the cab glanced down at her with a look of curious interest. She saw his face clearly, in the light of the street. It was the heavily bearded man whom she had seen take the box of cigarettes from the room of Alphonse Valentin two nights before.

Grace stood with the bandage which had encircled her eyes, still in one hand. Suddenly she saw a dark figure uncoil itself from the rear of the car, and drop noiselessly to the pavement as the machine started off. She gave a low cry of surprise. The man came up to her, a grim smile upon his face. It was Alphonse Valentin.

JOHN STAPLETON, the millionaire banker, accompanied by Richard Duvall, arrived in Paris early in the afternoon, and went at once to the former's house in the Avenue Kleber.

Upon their arrival, Duvall waited for sometime, while the distressed husband and wife were closeted together upstairs. At last they descended to the library, and Duvall was presented to Mrs. Stapleton.

The joy which her husband's arrival had caused her sent a new glow of hope to her careworn cheeks, and she greeted the detective most cordially. Clearly she felt that now something would at last be done, to find her missing child.

Duvall's first questions related to Mary Lanahan, the nurse. He was relieved to find that she had quite recovered from her sudden illness.

"Will you kindly have her brought here, Mrs. Stapleton?" he asked. "I would like to question her."

In a few moments the nurse appeared. She was an extremely good-looking girl, smart and well dressed. Duvall recognized in her frank face, her clear blue eyes, the same appearance of honesty which had impressed him during his interview with Patrick Lanahan, her father.

"Mary," said Mrs. Stapleton, "this is Mr. Duvall. He is trying to find Jack for us. Tell him your story."

The girl turned to Duvall, who had risen. "I can hardly expect you to believe what I am going to say, Mr. Duvall, yet I assure you that it is the solemn truth."

"Go ahead, Miss Lanahan," said the detective. "I am prepared to believe whatever you may say."

The girl sat down, at Mrs. Stapleton's request. She still was somewhat weak, from her recent illness.

"It was a week ago last Wednesday. I left the house with Master Jack at half-past ten, and we drove to the Bois."

"Just a moment, please." Duvall stopped her with a quick gesture. "How long had you been going to the Bois in this way?"

"Over six weeks."

"And you always left about the same time – half-past ten?"

"Always."

"Who accompanied you besides the child?"

"François – the chauffeur."

"Always?"

"Yes."

Duvall turned to Mrs. Stapleton. "How long has this man François been in your employ?"

"A year – in June."

"You have found him honest, reliable?"

"Always. Otherwise I should not have kept him."

The detective turned to Mary Lanahan. "Go ahead, please," he said.

"We reached the Bois shortly before eleven – François had orders to go slowly, when Master Jack was in the machine – and drove about for fifteen minutes. Then we stopped at the place where we were in the habit of playing."

"Was it always the same place?"

"Yes. There is a smooth field of grass there, and a clump of trees by the road, where the machine always waited."

"Go on."

"We left the car, and walked out over the grass. Master Jack had a big rubber ball, and he was kicking it along, and running after it. Sometimes he would kick it to me, and I would throw it back to him. We played about in that way for over half an hour. Mrs. Stapleton wished the boy to have the exercise."

"I see. And you generally played about in the same place?"

"Yes."

"How far from the road?"

"About three hundred feet."

"And from the nearest bushes, or woods?"

"A little more than that, I should say."

"You could see François, in the machine, from where you were?"

"Yes, I could see the machine. I could not always see François; for sometimes he would get out, and walk about, or sit under the trees and smoke a cigarette."

"Do you remember noticing him, on this particular morning?"

"Yes. I saw him sitting in the machine."

"What was he doing?"

"Reading a newspaper."

"Had he ever done that before?"

The girl hesitated, as though a new idea had come to her. "No – I cannot remember that he ever had."

"Very well. Go ahead with your story."

"Well – after we had played for about half an hour – I got tired and sat down on the grass. Master Jack still kept playing about with the ball. I sat idly, looking at the sky, the road – dreaming – "

"About what?" interrupted the detective, suddenly.

The girl colored. "About – about some people I know."

"Go ahead."

"I heard the boy playing, behind me. Then I looked around – and – he was gone!" The nurse made this statement in a voice so full of awe that it carried conviction to her hearers. Duvall felt that, whatever the real facts of the disappearance of the child, this woman's story was true.

"What did you do then?"

"I stood up and looked about. I thought Master Jack was hiding from me – playing a joke on me. Then I realized that there was no place that he could hide. The nearest trees were too far off. He could not have reached them. I called and called. I was very much frightened."

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