"A lady--she comes often--she gives ten francs each time. Zut!--what is ten francs when a gentleman gives a hundred! She pays me for my complaisance--bon! Place aux dames! You pay me better--bon! I'm yours, gentlemen. War is war, but money pulls the trigger!"

The miserable creature c.o.c.ked his forage-cap with a toothless smirk and twisted his scant mustache.

"Who is this lady who pays you ten francs?" I asked.

"I do not know her name--but," he added, with an offensive leer, "she's worth looking over by gentlemen like you. Do you want to see her? She's in there click-clicking away on the key with her pretty little fingers--bon sang! A morsel for a king, gentlemen."

"Wait here," I said, disgusted, and walked toward the stone station.

The treacherous cur came running after me. "There's a side door," he whispered; "step in there behind the part.i.tion and take a look at her. She'll be done directly: she never stays more than fifteen minutes. Then you can use the telegraph at your pleasure, captain."

The side door was partly open; I stepped in noiselessly and found myself in a small, dusky closet, part.i.tioned from the telegraph office. Immediately the rapid clicking of the Morse instrument came to my ears, and mechanically I read the message by the sound as it rattled on under the fingers of an expert:

"--Must have already found out that the signals were not authorized by the government. Before the _Fer-de-Lance_ returns to her station the German cruiser ought to intercept her off Groix. Did you arrange for this?"

There was a moment's silence, then back came rattling the reply in the Morse code, but in German:

"Yes, all is arranged. The _Augusta_ took a French merchant vessel off Pont Aven yesterday. The _Augusta_ ought to pa.s.s Groix this evening. You are to burn three white lights from Point Paradise if a landing-party is needed. It rests with you entirely."

Another silence, then the operator in the next room began:

"You say that Lorient is alarmed by rumors of Uhlans, and therefore sends the treasure-train back to Brest. The train, you a.s.sure me, carries the diamonds of the crown, bar-silver, gold, the Venus of Milo, and ten battle-flags from the Invalides. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"The insurgents here, under an individual in our pay, one John Buckhurst, are preparing to wreck the train at the Lammerin trestle.

"If the _Augusta_ can reach Point Paradise to-night, a landing-party could easily scatter these insurgents, seize the treasures, and re-embark in safety.

"There is, you declare, nothing to fear from Lorient; the only thing, then, to be dreaded is the appearance of the _Fer-de-Lance_ off Groix.

She is not now in sight; I will notify you if she appears. If she does not come I will burn three white lights in triangle on Paradise headland."

A short pause, then:

"Are there any Prussian cavalry near enough to help us?"

And the answer:

"Prussian dragoons are scouting toward Bannalec. I will send a messenger to them if I can. This is all. Be careful. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," clicked the instrument in the next room. There was a rustle of skirts, a tap of small shoes on the stone floor. I leaned forward and looked through the little part.i.tion window; Sylvia Elven stood by the table, quietly drawing on her gloves. Her face was flushed and thoughtful.

Slowly she walked toward the door, hesitated, turned, hurried back to the instrument, and set the switch. Then, without seating herself, she leaned over and gave the station call, three _S's_.

"I forgot to say that the two Yankee officers of military police, Scarlett and Speed, are a harmless pair. You have nothing to fear from them. Good-bye."

And the reply:

"Watch them all the same. Be careful, madame, they are Yankees.

Good-bye."

When she had gone, closing the outer door behind her, I sprang to the key, switched on, rattled out the three S's and got my man, probably before he had taken three steps from his table.

"I forgot to say," I telegraphed, using a light, rapid touch to imitate Sylvia's--"I forgot to say that, in case the treasure-train is held back to-night, the Augusta must run for the English Channel."

"What's that?" came back the jerky reply.

I repeated.

"Donnerwetter!" rattled the wires. "The entire French iron-clad fleet is looking for her."

"And I hope they catch her," I telegraphed.

"Are you crazy?" came the frantic reply. "Who are you?"

"A Yankee, idiot!" I replied. "Run for your life, you hopeless a.s.s!"

There was, of course, no reply, though I sent a few jocular remarks flying after what must have been the most horrified German spy south of Metz.

Then, at a venture, I set the switch on the a.r.s.enal line, got a quick reply, and succeeded in alarming them sufficiently, I think, for in a few moments I was telegraphing directly to the governor of Lorient, and the wires grew hot with an interchange of observations, which resulted in my running to the locker, tumbling out all the signal bunting, cones, and b.a.l.l.s, sorting five flags, two red cones, and a ball, and hastening out to the semaph.o.r.e.

Speed and the soldier Rolland saw me set the cones, hoist away, break out the flags on the halyards, and finally drop the white arm of the semaph.o.r.e.

I had set the signal for the _Fer-de-Lance_ to land in force and wipe Buckhurst and his grotesque crew from the face of the earth.

"Rolland," I said, "here is another hundred francs. Watch that halyard and guard it. To-night you will string seven of those little lamps on this other halyard, light them, hoist them, and then go up that tower and light the three red lamps on the left."

"'Tendu," he said, promptly.

"If you do it I will give you two hundred francs to-morrow. Is it a bargain?"

The soldier broke out into a torrent of promises which I cut short.

"That lady will never come here again, I think. If she does, she must not touch those halyards. Do you hear? If she offers you money, remember I will double it. But, Rolland, if you lie to _me_ I will have you killed as the Bretons kill pigs; you understand how that is done?"

He said that he understood, and followed us, fawning and whining his cowardly promises of fidelity until we ordered the wretch back to the post which he had already twice betrayed, and would certainly betray again if the opportunity offered.

Walking fast over the springy heath, I told Speed briefly what I had done--that the treasure-train would not now leave Lorient, that as soon as the _Fer-de-Lance_ came in sight of the semaph.o.r.e Buckhurst's game must come to an end.

Far ahead of us we saw the flutter of a light dress on the moor; Sylvia Elven, the spy, was going home; and from the distance, across the yellow-flowered gorse, her gay song floated back to us:

"Those who die for a maid Are paid; Those who die for a creed G.o.d-speed; Those who die for their own dear land Shall stand forever on G.o.d's right hand!--"

"A spy!" muttered Speed.

"I think," said I, "that she had better leave Paradise at once. Oh, the little fool, to risk all for a caprice--for a word to the poor fellow she ruined! Vanity does it every time, Speed."

"I don't understand what you mean," he said.