The Closing Net/Part 2/Chapter 9
CHAPTER IX
THE NET CLOSES
Léontine had risen from her chair and was standing with her body bent forward, her finger tips poised on the table, her eyes wild with horror. When I turned and told her that Ivan was dead she sprang back, overturning her chair; then swept around the table and dropped on her knees at the head of the couch. Here was no acting, as one could plainly see; and, in fact, Ivan himself had solved the mystery in his last words.
Léontine seemed daft with grief and dismay. "Ivan!" she cried. "Oh, Ivan—my dear! Speak to me! Speak to me!" She stared back at me over her shoulder. "Frank! Frank!" she groaned. "Is there nothing we can do?"
"It is too late," I answered. "The man is dead. Chu-Chu poisoned the ice with prussic acid or some of its deadly combinations. He bribed or coerced Victor. You will never see the man again."
She buried her face in her arms, leaning against the body. One might almost have thought that she had loved Ivan, but I knew that was not so. She liked and admired him, and the two had been not only close associates in their criminal enterprises, but staunch friends as well. More than that, I had always suspected Ivan of a hopeless passion for Léontine. I think, still, that he may have been the only man who had ever loved her in a really clean and unselfish way, and I believe that he would have tried to redeem her to a course of right living if the scheme of their lives had been planned differently; but I do not believe that Léontine could ever have cared for Ivan other than as a sympathetic friend. Chu-Chu himself would have stood a better chance. Ivan was too gentle physically, and Léontine had much of the savage in her composition. To win her desire a man would have had first to dominate her, mind and body. Women of the Léontine sort are better wooed with a club and an oath than with flowers and a song.
Yet there was plenty of savage tenderness in her, as I now saw, and there was something beautiful and touching in her grief over the dead criminal. Her sorrow was generous and sincere, and unmindful of the ugly position she was in. She was thinking only of the brilliant, fascinating, and even lovable personality blotted out in two brief minutes as he sat at her hospitable board.
I was thinking of the other, however, if Léontine was not; and it seemed to me there was a lot of trouble ahead. I got up and shut the two doors and locked them, then stepped to Léontine's side and raised her from beside the divan and placed her in a chair.
"We must decide on what steps to take, my dear," I said firmly. "Here we have a dead man and a bowlful of poisoned peach ice-cream, and no very plausible explanation of the circumstances to offer. What's to be done?"
Léontine pulled herself together with some effort.
"I don't know, Frank. I don't seem able to think"—she glanced at the clock—"and Kharkoff is coming at four."
"The police suspected Ivan of something," said I, "but have no positive proof that he belonged to a criminal organisation. Let us see if he's got anything compromising about him now. If so, it would make the statement that he was poisoned by Chu-Chu more plausible."
I stepped to the divan, ran my hand through Ivan's pockets and brought to light, besides the usual small articles, a porte-monnaie and a letter sealed and addressed, but not stamped. Turning it in my hand, I was surprised to see that it was addressed to Léontine.
The tears gushed to her eyes as she took it, broke the seal, and quickly ran it through. Watching her closely, I saw the colour come and go in her face, while the tears flowed faster. The note was brief, and, as she finished reading, Léontine flung the letter toward me on the table, and, dropping her face in her hands, wept silently.
I picked up the note, which was wet and tear-stained, but written in Ivan's clear, regular hand. It was in French, and read as follows:
"In this twilight of my soul I see but two bright stars—one whom I dearly loved and who has gone before, and who perhaps may intercede for my mistakes before the Great Tribunal. The other is a dear friend whom I leave behind, and who will mourn me as one less evil than mistaken.
"Léontine, you are my dearest living friend, and I wish to be near you when I slip into the shadows. Will you forgive me, dear?
"Good-night, then, and God bless and keep you!
"Ivan."
I laid the note down and stared at Léontine.
"What does it mean?" I gasped. "Did he commit suicide?"
Léontine shook her head. "No, Frank—at least, I do not think so. Chu-Chu saved him that. But Ivan plainly meant to kill himself. That is why his manner was so strange—so weary and final. You know you said something about his talking like a man at the end of his string—and he answered that he was. He meant to kill himself, either here or not far away."
I nodded. "This note will clear you, Léontine. But throw away the rest of that ice and wash out the bowl. Do so at once."
Léontine nodded and removed the ice. When she returned I said to her:
"Wait until I have been gone for about ten minutes, then telephone for the police. The case will appear sufficiently plain. Ivan came here to die near you."
"But where are you going, Frank?" she asked.
"I am going to settle his account with Chu-Chu," I answered—"and my own!"
So I went into the hot street, caught a taxi at the corner, and hurried to the Prefecture of Police. The Prefect knew my early history, of course, just as he knows that of many other former criminals who are now honoured members of society.
"Where have you been?" he asked. "My men had entirely lost sight of you, and I was beginning to be afraid of a relapse."
"Monsieur need not have been anxious," I answered. "My disappearance was not for any criminal purpose. Quite the contrary. Monsieur le Préfet may remember that when he was so lenient as to pardon me, he tried to extract certain information in regard to a suspected criminal organisation?"
"Quite so," answered the Prefect dryly, "and you declined to furnish it on the ground that you had just arrived from the other side of the Atlantic, and knew nothing about our European thieves. Of course, I did not believe you."
"At any rate," said I, "this defective knowledge has since been remedied. I have reason to believe that I can now take monsieur to a rendezvous of the most important malefactors on this side of the ocean. The chief of the band is none other than Chu-Chu le Tondeur."
The Prefect's head shot forward, and he glared at me across his desk.
"What!" he cried "you can lead me to Chu-Chu and his gang?"
"I think so, monsieur."
"Where are they?"
"At Meudon."
He leaned still closer, his eyes like gimlets and his jaw set.
"Is it"—his voice was almost a whisper—"Monsieur de Maxeville?"
"Monsieur de Maxeville and Chu-Chu le Tondeur are the same person."
An unholy light blazed from his fierce old face. "I knew it," he cried softly—"or, at least, I suspected it. For a while my suspicion rested on another man, but I discovered a few days ago that he was merely a political intrigant. So it had to be Maxeville! But the man had disappeared as though the earth had swallowed him up. How many do you think there are at this rendezvous?"
"Six or eight—ten, perhaps. Chu-Chu is the only one of whom I know anything personally or would recognise by sight."
"My men will know the others." He touched a bell, then, as the attendant entered, left the room to make his arrangements for himself. These did not take long and presently he returned.
"We will go out there immediately," said he. "I shall conduct this affair myself. There are reasons why I wish to have it managed as quietly as possible—political reasons, you understand. Even the Press will be instructed to be discreet. As for yourself, Monsieur Clamart, if the business turns out successfully you may be assured of my most distinguished consideration."
I thanked him, then asked how many men he was taking to capture the gang.
"I am taking six," he answered, "and they will go in plain clothes in two taxis. You and I will go in my own private car. You can designate the place, then wait for me in the car."
"Very well, monsieur," I answered, and wondered what he would think if he could guess at my own little scheme.
The Prefect was a good policeman and it didn't take him long to operate. There was no noise or fuss about it, either; and we went down into the court and got into his car and slipped off down the right bank of the Seine as if we were going for a little airing. We took it easily, though, for the six plain-clothes men were following us in taxis driven by special police chauffeurs.
The Prefect was silent for a while, but I could tell he was doing some hard thinking by the number of white bristles he pulled out of his moustache. Presently he said:
"What was your motive in giving me this information—a desire to be of service to the State?"
"A desire to be of service to myself, monsieur," I answered, and the Prefect cackled outright. He himself loved the State about as much as any stiff-necked old royalist could be expected to love a poorly run republic.
"Perhaps Le Tondeur regards you as a renegade and would like to be rid of you," he suggested.
"I doubt if he knows I am alive," I answered, and with perfect truth. As a matter of fact, I think Chu-Chu had been waiting in the Bon Cocher with the idea of poisoning Ivan, who had probably told him that he expected to lunch with Léontine after their conference. My presence he no doubt regarded as a direct act of friendship on the part of his patron, the devil. No doubt he would have been quite pleased to have gathered in the three of us, knowing that Léontine would remain a partisan to Ivan. The poison was not so quick that we might not have gone all together if served at the same time. Chu-Chu was rather adept with poisons.
The Prefect was silent again, and made only one or two remarks until we had almost reached Meudon. Then he said:
"Whatever your motive, my friend, you are not to consider me inappreciative. If I can break up this gang it will be a great triumph not only for me but for my friends. Frankly, this wave of crime which has submerged France for the past year has been used against us and our party."
It was not very plain to me just what he was driving at, but that did not much matter, as I was busy studying out my own end of the business. I was confident that Chu-Chu would never be taken alive, and my greatest fear was that he might get clean away. That was what I was out to prevent, though I said nothing about it to the Prefect.
We sped through Meudon, taking the road which Ivan had described, and presently we came to the corner of the ivy-covered wall that enclosed the entire property—three or four hectares, I should say, running from the road back down the hill to the river—the whole densely wooded, so that the house was not visible from the road. The frontage was rather narrow and I noticed that the ground was fairly open on each side.
I suggested to the Prefect that he hadn't a very big force to capture such a dangerous band, but he shrugged.
"I am an old soldier," said he, "and count the odds as four to one in a surprise. Besides, these are picked men and not to be bluffed by a handful of thieves."
We whirled past the front of the estate and I noticed that the entrance gates were copied, as Ivan had said, from those of Malmaison. At a little distance beyond the farther corner of the wall the Prefect told his driver to stop, and a moment later the two other taxis came up and the men got out. They were a businesslike-looking outfit, two of them old acquaintances of mine; and their eyes lightened a little as we exchanged nods.
The Prefect lost no time about his plans.
"Leclerc, Dumas, Levoisin and Bourdet, go down along the wall for about a hundred metres, then climb over and surround the house. Wagner and De Lefferts, come with me. We will enter by the front as soon as you others are inside. You drivers, stay by your cars. Roux, take a position similar to this on the other corner. Allons!"
"If I can be of service to Monsieur le Préfet" I began, knowing well enough what the answer would be.
"Merci!" he snapped. "You had better stay with the car. Now then, let's be off."
The four men detailed to surround the house slipped into the bushes that fringed the wall and disappeared. Giving them a few moments start, the Prefect and his two companions walked down to the front gate, where one of them slipped over and opened the small door for the others. The three chauffeurs, agreeing to horn three times as a signal of alarm, took up their positions, one of the taxis going back down the road and the other remaining with the Prefect's limousine.
As soon as the Prefect had disappeared I strolled casually into the thicket, following the direction taken by the first four.
"Where are you going?" called the Prefect's chauffeur, himself a policeman.
"I am going to where I can listen in case they need our help," I answered shortly, and kept on, leaving him dissatisfied but not knowing just what to do about it. Once out of sight I broke into a run, skirting the wall until I came to where it turned at right angles to enclose the lower extremity of the park. This wall I followed along until I came to what I was looking for, and that was a small door in the rear, opening on a path which led down through the woods to the bank of the Seine.
This was the way that Chu-Chu would certainly come if he broke through the slight cordon. I no more believed that the old Prefect and his six men would be able to round up and capture Chu-Chu than that they could have surrounded a wolf in a patch of bruyère and caught him by the tail. Chu-Chu was not the ordinary house-rat—he was big game—a hunter and lion-killer, and his instincts were those of a wild animal. Something told me that when he broke from his lair it would be for the thickest part of the park and toward the river; in fact, there was no other way to go, as the open highway was in front and the ground more or less open on each side of the estate.
If the police managed to stop him, so much the better, as in that case he would be dead. If he broke through, then it was up to me to stop him myself. And that is what I was there for. So, when I came to the little door of oak and iron, I made a jump for the top of the wall and swarmed over, then dropped on the other side and waited—but not for long.
The undergrowth right there was very thick and had that tropical luxuriance which you find in the Valley of the Seine in the late summer, especially when the season has been warm and moist. There was a little path that wound between thickets and heavy masses of laurel, ivy and holly. One could only see a few feet in any direction, but I had scarcely struck the ground when I heard the noise of people hurrying through the under-growth.
"Chu-Chu and his mob," I said to myself—"the whole gang has got past the police!"
Let me tell you, my friend, that for a second I wished I had not been quite so rash. I had counted on tackling Chu-Chu, but had never thought of its being necessary to take on the whole bunch. On the contrary, it seemed more probable that Chu-Chu would have used the others to cover his own retreat. He was no coward, but he was a consistent thief, and Ivan was right when he said that the first requirement for success in any line of graft is absolute selfishness. Many an able thief has gone under due to a flash of decent feeling, but that would never have been the cause of Chu-Chu's finish.
Here came a gang of them, and they were coming fast and as silently as they could through that tangle—a whole band, with Chu-Chu in the lead. I looked over my shoulder at the wall and wished that I were back on the other side. I had an automatic pistol that held eleven cartridges, and there was a handy knife in my belt, but the odds were too heavy.
For the moment I was tempted to skin over that wall like a cat. Then I thought of Ivan; and, as it got hold of my mind that here was the murderous devil who had just tried to poison the three of us—and one a woman—slipping up to me through the bush, something stronger than the love of life blazed up inside me. I whipped out the pistol and waited.
The crashing noise grew louder and I could hear panting breaths. Then out of a tangle of laurel not twenty feet in front of me burst Chu-Chu, and he reminded me of a boar. He was still in his workman's blouse, and he carried the black straw in his hand. The sweat was pouring from his white face and his lips were drawn back and showed the yellow teeth.
At sight of me he never so much as paused. His hand went to the V-shaped opening of his blouse, and at the same instant I fired into him. Down he went with a crash, then began to scramble on all fours toward the foot of a chestnut tree a few metres away. I fired again and brought a snarl out of him, but he scrambled all the faster. Then a gun cracked to the left of me and I felt the scorch of a bullet across the chest. I spun round, and there was Chu-Chu's mate, the man with one nostril wider than the other. He was standing by the wall and as I turned he fired again and so did another man who had burst out behind Chu-Chu. Then Chu-Chu himself opened up from the ground and I came down in a heap.
It was only a broken shinbone, and from where I lay I got the Oriental chap and another man who had made a jump for the wall. Yells and orders were ringing out from up by the house and men were crashing down the hill. Chu-Chu was somewhere in the thicket, and I wanted him bad; so I started in on hands and knees. His pistol cracked in front of me, and the blood came pouring down into my eyes, but I caught a glimpse of him huddled behind the chestnut, ten feet in front of me, and I took a snapshot and smashed his hand as it was shoved out, gripping his weapon. He snarled like a cat, then came bounding out from behind his tree; and, though my gun went off against his body, it never stopped him, and the next instant his grip was on my wrist and his teeth in the muscles of my neck. I got my left arm clear, however, and as we rolled over, lashing out like a couple of wild beasts, I got the hilt of my knife with my left hand, and, squirming up on top, I let the life out of him.