I was quite well aware that I might be on a fool's errand in going to Meulan. The yacht could have put about before it had steamed a mile, and so returned back to Paris. There had been no time to learn whether this was so or not if I was to catch the 10.25. Also, it might have landed its passengers anywhere along the river. I may say at once that neither of these two things happened, and my calculations regarding her movements were accurate to the letter. But a trap most carefully set may be prematurely sprung by inadvertence, or more often by the over-zeal of some stupid ass who fails to understand his instructions, or oversteps them if they are understood. I received a most annoying telegram from Denouval, a lock about thirteen miles above that of Meulan. The local policeman, arriving at the lock, found that the yacht had just cleared. The fool shouted to the captain to return, threatening him with all the pains and penalties of the law if he refused. The captain did refuse, rung on full speed ahead, and disappeared in the darkness. Through this well-meant blunder of an understrapper those on board the launch had received warning that we were on their track. I telegraphed to the lock-keeper at Denouval to allow no craft to pass toward Paris until further orders. We thus held the launch in a thirteen-mile stretch of water, but the night was pitch dark, and passengers might be landed on either bank with all France before them, over which to effect their escape in any direction.
It was midnight when I reached the lock at Meulan, and, as was to be expected, nothing had been seen or heard of the launch. It gave me some satisfaction to telegraph to that dunderhead at Denouval to walk along the river bank to Meulan, and report if he learnt the launch's whereabouts. We took up our quarters in the lodgekeeper's house and waited. There was little sense in sending men to scour the country at this time of night, for the pursued were on the alert, and very unlikely to allow themselves to be caught if they had gone ashore. On the other hand, there was every chance that the captain would refuse to let them land, because he must know his vessel was in a trap from which it could not escape, and although the demand of the policeman at Denouval was quite unauthorised, nevertheless the captain could not know that, while he must be well aware of his danger in refusing to obey a command from the authorities. Even if he got away for the moment he must know that arrest was certain, and that his punishment would be severe. His only plea could be that he had not heard and understood the order to return. But this plea would be invalidated if he aided in the escape of two men, whom he must know were wanted by the police. I was therefore very confident that if his passengers asked to be set ashore, the captain would refuse when he had had time to think about his own danger. My estimate proved accurate, for towards one o'clock the lock-keeper came in and said the green and red lights of an approaching craft were visible, and as he spoke the yacht whistled for the opening of the lock. I stood by the lock-keeper while he opened the gates; my men and the local police were concealed on each side of the lock. The launch came slowly in, and as soon as it had done so I asked the captain to step ashore, which he did.
'I wish a word with you,' I said. 'Follow me.'
I took him into the lock-keeper's house and closed the door.
'Where are you going?'
'To Havre.'
'Where did you come from?'
'Paris.'
'From what quay?'
'From the Pont de Neuilly.'
'When did you leave there?'
'At five minutes to four o'clock this afternoon.'
'Yesterday afternoon, you mean?'
'Yesterday afternoon.'
'Who engaged you to make this voyage?'
'An American; I do not know his name.'
'He paid you well, I suppose?'
'He paid me what I asked.'
'Have you received the money?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I may inform you, captain, that I am Eugène Valmont, chief detective of the French Government, and that all the police of France at this moment are under my control. I ask you, therefore, to be careful of your answers. You were ordered by a policeman at Denouval to return. Why did you not do so?'
'The lock-keeper ordered me to return, but as he had no right to order me, I went on.'
'You knew very well it was the police who ordered you, and you ignored the command. Again I ask you why you did so.'
'I did not know it was the police.'
'I thought you would say that. You knew very well, but were paid to take the risk, and it is likely to cost you dear. You had two passengers aboard?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Did you put them ashore between here and Denouval?'
'No, sir; but one of them went overboard, and we couldn't find him again.'
'Which one?'
'The short man.'
'Then the American is still aboard?'
'What American, sir?'
'Captain, you must not trifle with me. The man who engaged you is still aboard?'
'Oh, no, sir; he has never been aboard.'
'Do you mean to tell me that the second man who came on your launch at the Pont de Neuilly is not the American who engaged you?'
'No, sir; the American was a smooth-faced man; this man wore a black beard.'
'Yes, a false beard.'
'I did not know that, sir. I understood from the American that I was to take but one passenger. One came aboard with a small box in his hand; the other with a small bag. Each declared himself to be the passenger in question. I did not know what to do, so I left Paris with both of them on board.'
'Then the tall man with the black beard is still with you?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Well, captain, is there anything else you have to tell me? I think you will find it better in the end to make a clean breast of it.'
The captain hesitated, turning his cap about in his hands for a few moments, then he said—
'I am not sure that the first passenger went overboard of his own accord. When the police hailed us at Denouval—'
'Ah, you knew it was the police, then?'
'I was afraid after I left it might have been. You see, when the bargain was made with me the American said that if I reached Havre at a certain time a thousand francs extra would be paid to me, so I was anxious to get along as quickly as I could. I told him it was dangerous to navigate the Seine at night, but he paid me well for attempting it. After the policeman called to us at Denouval the man with the small box became very much excited, and asked me to put him ashore, which I refused to do. The tall man appeared to be watching him, never letting him get far away. When I heard the splash in the water I ran aft, and I saw the tall man putting the box which the other had held into his handbag, although I said nothing of it at the time. We cruised back and forward about the spot where the other man had gone overboard, but saw nothing more of him. Then I came on to Meulan, intending to give information about what I had seen. That is all I know of the matter,
