A PLEASANT LADY PASSENGER

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1523, 28 February 1901, Page 9

A PLEASANT LADY PASSENGER

“Ivlarkliam,” said our chief one morning, “here is a chance for you at last.” I looked up inquiringly from my desk in the Bureau of Public Safety, at- the Government offices in Paris, where I had for some days past been busy with papers concerning the latest Anarchist scare. “We want a man to go over to London to see what is doing there,” continued the head of our department. “The risk will be great, so too will the reward: of success.” .

“I thank you for the .honour, Monsieur Chaum'ont,” I hastened to say, for lie had stopped as iff to see the effect of his Words; . “I. shall do in.y best.” ; /‘That. is. right. ~1 .was not sure whether, with youi* want of experience, you would car© to undertake such a task —for' th© risk, as I have said,' ’ is by nd means a slight one. Still, there are points in your favour that have influenced our choice; you are young, are fairly prepossessing in appearance, and, thanks to your English parentage hnd French bringing up, you can pass for a native of either country at discretion.”

“But I have, had no detective experience,” I ventured to suggest. - ‘‘That does not matter. You are to make your way to London at once, join one or more, of the Anarchist clubs; and report to me fully. every second day; That is all. Your familiarity with- the desk work of our bureau will give you some idea of what .is expected of you.” I mow knew perfectly what was' expected of me, and, truth to. tell, I did not like it, but it was too, late to draw back, - Detective work . I would not, have minded being employed upon, but to (have to become the associate of desperate criminals, and all the while he engaged in betraying them, was something more than I had bargained for. ' “It is the first step of the ladder,” said Monsieur Chaumont, cheerily, probably having noticed! the mingled state of my feelings; , “who knows but you way yet. rival the famous Vidocq.” “And when must I set out, moiisiieur ?” “Tu-morrow at . latest. You . had better go by way of Dieppe, and take these letters to the officers we ha ve there. It will give youi a chance of becoming known, to . eacb ; other. '4 Report, to us through the Embassy - at; London, but; in the ©vent bff any-: eoupl being.-. likely to come off, you, had better come straight to bis; here/! r Get all -the photographs yout ©an; • and don’t: fall .in dove with ; any of the lady conspirators. They might become spies upon you in turn.” “No fear of that, sir,” I said, and immediately set off to make the tew preparations necessary for ray sojourn in th© English capital and for ray first trip across the Charm eh

My mission to London was completely successful. From November to March, of one dreadful winter I was an imiabitant of that cheerless town, an awful infliction to a native of sunny Gascogne, as I myself was. Still, I bore every disagreement, as Londoners spell it, with resignation, and I hope even manfully. Every soldier of la belle France is said to carry a marshal's baton in his haversack ; I cheered myself with the thought that in my carpet bag there might lurk the Cross of the Legion of Honour, or even the warrant or appointment as' Director of Public Safety, the sole mar. shalate of our profession. I had joined a. club in Soho, and also another in Tottenham Court road neighbourhood, and soon came to be looked upon as one of the most daring and energetic member© of uie brotherhood. True, non© of our schemes* came off;, 'but our want of success was set down to ill-luck, and as one was rendered abortive, my companions would set about concocting another, undeterred by the fact that- several of their number had, one after another, been arrested as soon as they set foot in France, on their way to carry them out. I never ventured near the Embassy, of course, but my communications with my official superiors were carried on without the slightest hitch. “Any news yet of Desfargues ?” I carelessly asked Rudolf Stahl, one of our leading spirits, as he hurriedly entered the Soho Club one evening late. “News.?” he replied, with a muttered ejaculation which I forbear writing; “the very worst; there must be som e traitor amongst- us. I can’t imagine, otherwise, how the police manage to get overy one of our men as soon as they set foot- in France. Desfargues and Schmidt have both been seized at Boulonge, Mannoni has been fool enough to be trapped at Harve, and so our precious scheme is blown to th© winds. It is now a question of a day or two, perhaps only of hours, if we are to save Contades from the guillotine. They may execute him. any morning. We must see about doing something to-night or it. will be too late.” Ah hour later our executive committee, of which I had been- elected a member, met to discuss the situation. An air of distrust pervaded the meeting, each- man apparently suspecting his fellow, and probably me among the rest. For my part I suspected nobody; I knew too well how all the arrests had been brought about-. As a result of our. deliberations it was resolved that still another; effort was to be made to strike terror into, the official world of Paris, in the hope- of saving, the condemned man’s life. The Bureau of Public Safety, the headquarters of the decteetive department, was to be the object of attack. If an explosion levelled these offices to the ground, the Anarchist cause would be in a. fair way of triumphing! Further, to guard effectually against the suspected treachery, our committee unanimously agreed to leave all arrangements in the hands of Stahl as to the time and manner of carrying out the scheme, and the men to be entrusted with th© dangerous task. It was three in the morning ere our conclave broke up. By five o’clock I was on my way to Paris. I had ah hour to wait in Newhaven ere the tide permitted tlie Dieppe boat to sail. It- was a raw cold morning, and the draughty writing-room anything but pleasant. I solaced-myself, however, with the thought how wonderfully well I ;]iad carried but the onerous and danger bus mission - that had been entrusted to my hitherto untried hands. Aiid this homeward journey I was now engaged in making.,was to be the seal of all my .successful work, the one ; effective countercheck to- the last scheme of Stahl and his brother plotters, whatever it might prove to be. Henceforth my future was assured, only I felt it would be discreet, to keep at a respectful distance from any of my late associates. I was indulging in a day dream of my assured-rise in my profession when I felt- a light touch on my arm. lam nothing if not gallant, so when I tell my readers that it was a. lady who was invoking.my assistance, they will understand'. thAt" for the moment I forgot all about th e Aiiarchists and their wretched plots and conspiracies, And the more so as my fair unknown was; young,, -eighteen or nineteen summers at most, and very beautiful. Eh© ..waspale, and,''.fieri large, dark eyes showed signs of recent tears; - .

~.. ‘‘Mphsieij.r .. is , going ,to .Paris.?’’,,,shp asked me iu.perfect English, //f - . r . “Yes, mademoiselle. Can Ibe of service.to you?” , .. . She looked so at, me. before replying that, her lustrous eyes made my heart throb, and I felt myself, as if falling .in love, and at first-.sight. "Well, .there ,was: .noi reason why I shouldn’t, for was not my future already assured ? “I am in such trouble,” she went on; “my brother was to come from Brighton to meet me here, and 1 the train has just come; in without hint.” " • - “Perhaps he will come by the next.” “But it will be too late. We were going to Paris together——” “I shall be delighted, mademoiselle, to fill your brother’s place, if you will allow me s!o much happiness.” .“You are very good, monsieur, I ami sure; but I should only be sent back from Dieppe—arrested, perhaps, who knows? —for niy brother has, the passports for us,both. . And I must be in Paris tb-nigmferjny mother is ' dying. How stupid of Adolphe to - miss ' his train; and! all this trouble up oil ns! Oh, dear! Whatever shall I do?”

She hid her face in. her cambric handkerchief and sobbed convulsively. I had - heard that pity was akin, to love; now ’ I began to realise how true the adage - might be after all. Whilst I wa-s still - hesitating as to what I should say to ' comfort my fair companion, in her mani- • fest grief, the steamer’s bell rang loudly —a signal for all intending passengers to get on board at onoe. Suddenly, though with an evident ©ffort, the lady rose from her position, hurriedly dried her tears, and picked up a small black bag that lay beside her. My own lugga-ge was booked ■ through to Paris direct. “Allow me, madamoiselle,” I said. ; “It is very heavy, monsieur, for* its . size,” she said, as I took it; “it be- ’ longs to my brother, and contains some of his etchings on copper. , They are" very valuable, and I dare hot entrust them, in the van. Perhaps monsieur has' heard of him, Eugene Guerin?” - ; I had frequented the Parisian studios.befor© definitely coming to a- decision on my own career, ancl Guerin’s name; was familiar to me as that of a very promising young artist. By the time I had told Mademoiselle Guerin this, we/ were seated on board of the Greta, and ' the sailors were already beginning tocast off. ’. Our voyage across was one of the pleasantest it has been my fortune to experience. A balmy morning in early' spring, the sea smooth as glass, and a chatty, agreeable companion to while away the time, all that, and the fact' that I was returning to my native country after a long absence and after arduous and dangerous work in her service, ; contributed to a sum of enjoyment that falls but rarely to one’s lot. Mademoiselle was occasionally lost in thought, L as was natural considering her mother’s illness. We exchanged many confidences with each other, and though I was careful not to inform her exactly as to my profession, she was delighted to learn that I was in the service of - the State. “You will call upon us in Paris, cher Monsieur Marquin”—it was thus ‘ ©liepro no u need my name. “1 am sure my brother will be delighted.” ... “And anyone else?” I-ventured to ask; “Ah! there you want to ask too much. I will tell you when we meet; but, oh dear ; we are close upon Dieppe, and how aim 1 to get. past all .those, ho,rrid! detectives? ! They won’t imprison me, will they?” ... . . . ' ..._ “X hope not,, mademoiselle; but they may send you back to N ewhaver!. ’ ’ “Oh,, monsieur, I must get through— I must indeed!” By this time the passengers were crowding, the narrow gangway leading, on to the quay. At its end stood a number of - detectives',. with most . of whom. I was acquainted. My, rug .was thrown over my. right arm, the band; attached to it holding mademoiselle's black bag. Gently and timidly . sbe laid her gloved hand on my left arm. Our. progress was slow, for the passengers were numerous and their passports and lug,, gage were being subjected to a, rigid scrutiny. At last it came to my . turn. 7 “Halloa, Markham!” said Chollet, who had been specially detailed there from Paris. “We. didn’t expect you oyer. Anything, fresh ?’’ . / * - ‘'Yes, much,’’ I whispered. “It’s that has brought me over/' . . / .. “And madame! We never heard' of your marriage, .you sly dog.” , . '/ - Here he bowed profoundly.. The lady on my arm graciously returned the salutation and said: . “ . : ",// “I shall be delighted do receive, any of •my husband’s friends at our new, home in Paris. . Gome, Albert, ire are delaying'the others.” /• r j - - Next moment, we were hurrying;to the train, while mademoiselle was piofusely expressing the thanks that I could not for my life make out how I had; deserved. " ' ' " • : - - “How nice it must be to be in, th© public service/* she said ;, “but for your friend knowing you. I should neyer hayp got through.’’ We reached Paris,without further adyenture, where I saw! niy fair !travelle'r into; a fiarce, promising at the same time to call upon, her on the morrow/ I reported myself at headquarters, where my, reception was of a very cordial kind, for my efforts had. been appreciated. i returned there again in the eyeniiig,' provided' with a detailed report in yriitihg hf t-h©-latest move on the part' j of tlie t anarchists. - I was: sitting taikißg. to our ehie!h o: wh.erti suddenly the room in ' which - we; > were sitting seemed •to rock, there-was a crash of-breaking glass, and. then a. deafenings roar hurst.upon -our .ears, and L remember nq..more. : : > Wpen - I came to, I found myself in 'th© hospitalterribly, 'shaken/ but-fortu- ... nately ( without y . loss -of - hmb. , ; .Others, oh pur/men,; had; not been so -fortunate, _ - r I. learned ; tnat .a bomb had been,- exploded ;on the ground .flom'. of the offices c»f th© Bureau of Public Sato ty, and. that ■ the . whole place, had; been wrecked and many of the clerical ; staff wounded'. A man had been captured immediately after the explosion, and tihe content© of a black bag found in hss possession had led to further arrest©. My own presence was urgently required at the preliminary, or extrarjudicial, examination of the prisoners; for one, if not more, had been traded as coming from London, and it, was thought I might be able to give important eyidenee' as to their identity. ", And so; on the first day tlie docto'% judged it safe for in© 'my room. I was taken to the house of the 'toagfe-

trate- entrusted with the investigation. In an ante-chamber I found Choi let sitting; but he did not recognise me at all when I nodded to him as I passed. My head was partly enveloped in bandages* and no doubt my appearance v a-> otherwise very greatly altered*. But that was not the reason of the blame stare he favoured me with. I was unable to identify either of the first two prisoners brought forward, as, in fact, 1 had never set eyes on them before. They were removed, and then a third was brought in, a young woman, followed by Chollet, who carried in his hand a black bag, which I had some dim recollection of having seen before. “Kemove your veil,” said tne. magistrate to the prisoner. ‘‘Do you know this woman ?” he then asked, addressing I'll ft , ‘■Speak out, Albert; tell them the truth,” said the lady briskly. And then I wished- the explosion nad indeed killed me; it was Mademoiselle Guerin whom I was confronting. It* would have gone hard with me at the trial which followed, and in which I had to take my place in the dock along with the other three, hut for mademoiselle’s confession, which amused everybody but myself, especially when sihe described how she got me to c-a-rry the fatal bomb, and “frank” her through to Paris without being once asked for her papers. „ “We had found him out in London/ she added complacently, “and thought it well he should be made to help us. They were sentenced to long terms of imprisonment. I got a year, and v hen I cam© out found that my occupation was gone. And yet what else could I have done, or even you, reader, who are no doubt much wiser, in such circumstances as I have narrated.” —“’Weekly Dispatch.”