The Golden Triangle Part 62

It was a solemn moment. The four men were standing close together, like acquaintances who have met in the course of a walk and who stop for a minute to exchange their news. Valenglay, leaning with one arm on the parapet overlooking the lower quay, had his face turned to the river and kept raising and lowering his cane above the sand-heap. Patrice and M.

Ma.s.seron stood silent, with faces a little set.

Don Luis gave a laugh:

"Don't be too sure, monsieur le president," he said, "that I shall make the gold rise from the ground with a magic wand or show you a cave in which the bags lie stacked. I always thought those words, 'the golden triangle,' misleading, because they suggest something mysterious and fabulous. Now according to me it was simply a question of the s.p.a.ce containing the gold, which s.p.a.ce would have the shape of a triangle. The golden triangle, that's it: bags of gold arranged in a triangle, a triangular site. The reality is much simpler, therefore; and you will perhaps be disappointed."

"I sha'n't be," said Valenglay, "if you put me with my face towards the eighteen hundred bags of gold."

"You're that now, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I say. Short of touching the bags of gold, it would be difficult to be nearer to them than you are."

For all his self-control, Valenglay could not conceal his surprise:

"You are not suggesting, I suppose, that I am walking on gold and that we have only to lift up the flags of the pavement or to break down this parapet?"

"That would be removing obstacles, sir, whereas there is no obstacle between you and what you are seeking."

"No obstacle!"

"None, monsieur le president, for you have only to make the least little movement in order to touch the bags."

"The least little movement!" said Valenglay, mechanically repeating Don Luis' words.

"I call a little movement what one can make without an effort, almost without stirring, such as dipping one's stick into a sheet of water, for instance, or . . ."

"Or what?"

"Well, or a heap of sand."

Valenglay remained silent and impa.s.sive, with at most a slight s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sing across his shoulders. He did not make the suggested movement. He had no need to make it. He understood.

The others also did not speak a word, struck dumb by the simplicity of the amazing truth which had suddenly flashed upon them like lightning.

And, amid this silence, unbroken by protest or sign of incredulity, Don Luis went on quietly talking:

"If you had the least doubt, monsieur le president--and I see that you have not--you would dig your cane, no great distance, twenty inches at most, into the sand beneath you. You would then encounter a resistance which would compel you to stop. That is the bags of gold. There ought to be eighteen hundred of them; and, as you see, they do not make an enormous heap. A kilogram of gold represents three thousand one hundred francs. Therefore, according to my calculation, a bag containing approximately fifty kilograms, or one hundred and fifty-five thousand francs done up in rouleaus of a thousand francs, is not a very large bag. Piled one against the other and one on top of the other, the bags represent a bulk of about fifteen cubic yards, no more. If you shape the ma.s.s roughly like a triangular pyramid you will have a base each of whose sides would be three yards long at most, or three yards and a half allowing for the s.p.a.ce lost between the rouleaus of coins. The height will be that of the wall, nearly. Cover the whole with a layer of sand and you have the heap which lies before your eyes . . ."

Don Luis paused once more before continuing:

"And which has been there for months, monsieur le president, safe from discovery not only by those who were looking for it, but also by accident on the part of a casual pa.s.ser-by. Just think, a heap of sand!

Who would dream of digging a hole in it to see what is going on inside?

The dogs sniff at it, the children play beside it and make mudpies, an occasional tramp lies down against it and takes a snooze. The rain softens it, the sun hardens it, the snow whitens it all over; but all this happens on the surface, in the part that shows. Inside reigns impenetrable mystery, darkness unexplored. There is not a hiding-place in the world to equal the inside of a sand heap exposed to view in a public place. The man who thought of using it to hide three hundred millions of gold, monsieur le president, knew what he was about."

The late prime minister had listened to Don Luis' explanation without interrupting him. When Don Luis had finished, Valenglay nodded his head once or twice and said:

"He did indeed. But there is one man who is cleverer still."

"I don't believe it."

"Yes, there's the man who guessed that the heap of sand concealed the three hundred million francs. That man is a master, before whom we must all bow."

Flattered by the compliment, Don Luis raised his hat. Valenglay gave him his hand:

"I can think of no reward worthy of the service which you have done the country."

"I ask for no reward," said Don Luis.

"I daresay, sir, but I should wish you at least to be thanked by voices that carry more weight than mine."

"Is it really necessary, monsieur le president?"

"I consider it essential. May I also confess that I am curious to learn how you discovered the secret? I should be glad, therefore, if you would call at my department in an hour's time."

"I am very sorry, sir, but I shall be gone in fifteen minutes."

"No, no, you can't go like this," said Valenglay, with authority.

"Why not, sir?"

"Well, because we don't know your name or anything about you."

"That makes so little difference!"

"In peace-time, perhaps. But, in war-time, it won't do at all."

"Surely, monsieur le president, you will make an exception in my case?"

"An exception, indeed? What next?"

"Suppose it's the reward which I ask, will you refuse me then?"

"It's the only one which we are obliged to refuse you. However, you won't ask for it. A good citizen like yourself understands the constraints to which everybody is bound to submit. My dear Ma.s.seron, arrange it with this gentleman. At the department in an hour from now.

Good-by till then, sir. I shall expect you."

And, after a very civil bow, he walked away to his car, twirling his stick gaily and escorted by M. Ma.s.seron.

"Well, on my soul!" chuckled Don Luis. "There's a character for you! In the twinkling of an eye, he accepts three hundred millions in gold, signs an epoch-making treaty and orders the arrest of a.r.s.ene Lupin!"

"What do you mean?" cried Patrice, startled out of his life. "Your arrest?"

"Well, he orders me to appear before him, to produce my papers and the devil knows what."

"But that's monstrous!"

"It's the law of the land, my dear captain. We must bow to it."