The False Faces Part 51

"Such as they are," Lanyard replied. "My pa.s.sports and letters were stolen from me. But these, I think, should serve as well to prove my bona fides."

He laid out in order upon the desk his plunder from the safe aboard the U-boat--all but the money--the three cipher codes, the log, the diary of the commander, the directory of German secret agents, and such other doc.u.ments as he had selected.

The first Colonel Stanistreet took up with a dubious frown which swiftly lightened, yielding, as he pursued his examination into the papers and began to recognize their surpa.s.sing value to the Allied cause, to a subdued glimmer of gratulatory excitement.

But he was at pains to satisfy himself as to the authenticity of each paper in turn, providing a lull for which Lanyard was not ungrateful since it gave him a chance to adjust his understanding to an unexpected development in the affair.

He lounged at ease, smoking, his eyes, half-veiled by lowered lids, keenly reviewing the room and its tenants.

Stone, the detective (an operative, Lanyard rightly inferred, of the American Secret Service, loaned to the British in order to keep the burglary out of police records and newspapers), had wandered out into the garden that glowed with young April sunlight beyond the windows. From time to time he was to be seen stooping and inspecting the earth with the gravity of an earnest, efficient, sober-sided sleuth of the old school.

Blensop was busy before the safe, extracting the contents of each pigeonhole in turn, thumbing its dockets of papers, checking each off upon a typewritten list several pages in length.

To that lithe and debonair figure Lanyard's gaze oftenest reverted.

So not only had the necklace been stolen but "a doc.u.ment" which the British Secret Service "could ill afford to part with"!

Lanyard entertained no least doubt as to the ident.i.ty of the doc.u.ment in question. There could be but one, he felt, which Stanistreet would so characterize.

That doc.u.ment had not been in the safe when Lanyard had opened it at midnight.

After a moment Mr. Blensop uttered a musical note of vexation. The lead of his pencil had broken. He threw it pettishly aside, came over to the desk, took up a penholder, dipped it in the ink-well, and returned to his task.

XXII

CHICANE

Colonel Stanistreet put down the last of the papers and slapped his hand upon it resoundingly.

"This is one of the most remarkable collections of data, I venture to a.s.sert, that has ever come into the hands of the British Government. Have you any idea of its value?"

Lanyard lifted a whimsical eyebrow. "Some," he admitted drily.

"And what do you ask for it, sir?"

"Nothing."

The gaze of the Englishman bored into his eyes; but he met their challenge with an unshaken countenance, smiling.

"My dear sir," Stanistreet demanded--"who are you?"

"The name under which I sailed for New York on board the _a.s.syrian_,"

Lanyard announced quietly, "was Andre d.u.c.h.emin."

Disturbed by a startled exclamation, together with a sound of shuffling and a slight thump, he looked round in mild curiosity to see Blensop staggered and astare, standing over a litter of doc.u.ments which had slipped from his grasp to the floor. Mastering his emotion quickly enough, the secretary knelt with a mumbled apology and began to pick up the papers.

With no more notice of the incident Lanyard returned undivided attention to Colonel Stanistreet.

"I had another name," he confessed, "and a reputation none too savoury, as, I daresay, you know. Through the courtesy of the British Intelligence Office I was permitted to disguise these; but on the _a.s.syrian_ I was recognized--in short, ran afoul of German Secret Service agents who knew me, but whom I did not know. On the sixth night out circ.u.mstances conspired to make me seem a serious obstacle to their schemes. Consequently I was waylaid, robbed, and thrown overboard. Within the next few minutes a torpedo struck the s.h.i.+p and the submarine which fired it came up under me as I struggled to keep afloat. By pa.s.sing myself off as a Boche spy, I succeeded in inducing the commander to take me below, and so reached the Martha's Vineyard base. There chance played into my hands: I contrived to sink the U-boat and escape, as reported in my telegram."

During a brief silence he found opportunity to observe that Mr. Blensop was working with hands that trembled singularly.

"Incredible!" Stanistreet commented.

"Yet here is proof," Lanyard a.s.serted, indicating the papers beneath Stanistreet's hand.

"My dear sir, I didn't mean--"

"Pardon!" Lanyard smiled, with a lifted hand. "I never thought you did, Colonel Stanistreet. But it is your duty to make sure you are not imposed upon by plausible adventurers. Therefore--since my papers have been stolen--I am glad to be able to prove my ident.i.ty with Andre d.u.c.h.emin by referring to survivors of the _a.s.syrian_ disaster, among others Mr. Sherry, the second officer, Mr. Crane of the United States Secret Service, and a countrywoman of yours, a Miss Cecelia Brooke, whose acquaintance I was fortunate enough to make."

Stanistreet nodded heavily, and consulted his watch. "Miss Brooke," he said, "should be here shortly. Blensop made an appointment with her last night, which I confirmed by telephone this morning."

"Then, with permission, I shall remain and ask her to vouch for me,"

Lanyard suggested in resignation, since it appeared he was not to be permitted to escape this girl, that destiny was not yet finished with their entanglement.

"I shall be glad if you will, sir.... Monsieur d.u.c.h.emin," Stanistreet began, but hesitated--"or do you prefer another style?"

"I am content with d.u.c.h.emin."

"That is a matter for your own discretion, but I should warn you it may already have acquired an evil odour on this side. To my knowledge it has been used within the last twenty-four hours, and the pretensions of its wearer supported by your stolen credentials."

"I am not surprised," Lanyard stated reflectively. "A chap with a beard, perhaps?"

"Why, yes...."

"Anderson," the adventurer nodded: "that, at least, was his alias when he jockeyed himself into the second steward's berth aboard the _a.s.syrian_."

He glanced idly across the room, discovered Blensop once more at pause in a stare, and grinned amiably.

"He came here last night," Stanistreet volunteered deliberately-- "representing himself as Andre d.u.c.h.emin--to sell me a certain paper, the same which subsequently, I am convinced, he returned to steal."

"And did," Lanyard added.

"And did," the Briton conceded. "Now you have told me who he is, I promise you every effort shall be made to apprehend him and prevent further misuse of the name you have a.s.sumed."

"It has," Lanyard said tersely.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I say every effort has been made--and successfully--to accomplish the ends you mention."

"What's that you say?" Blensop demanded shrilly, crossing to the desk.

"My secretary," Stanistreet explained, "was present at the interview, and is naturally interested."