I now saw the plot. They had knowledge that old Blumenfeld was travelling with a quantity of negotiable securities which he intended to hand to his agent at Marseilles on his way to Cannes, and they meant to relieve him of them!
“I shall be fast asleep,” Rayne went on, and turning to Duperré, he said: “Here’s the old fellow’s master-key. It opens everything.”
“By Jove!” whispered Vincent. “That was a clever ruse of yours to contrive the old man to faint and then take an impression of the key upon his chain.”
“It was the only way to get possession of it,” Rayne declared with an evil grin. “But both of you know how to act, so I’ll soon retire.”
And a few moments later I went out leaving both men together. The train roared into a long tunnel and then out again across many high embankments and over bridges. Rain was falling in torrents and lashed the windows as we sped due south on our way to Dijon. At last I knew the cause and motive of the old financier’s fainting fit. The reason of our visit to Bradbourne had been in order to obtain an impression of the old fellow’s little master-key which opened all his luggage, his dispatch-boxes, and even the great safes at the office in Old Broad Street.
I hated the part I was forced to play, yet there certainly was an element of danger in it, and in that I delighted. Therefore I partially undressed, turned in, and read the newspaper, anxiously waiting for the hour of three and wondering in what manner Duperré intended to rob the victim. I hoped that no violence would be used.
The minutes crept on slowly as, time after time, I glanced at my watch. In the compartment next to mine the millionaire was sleeping, all unconscious of the insidious plot. The brown-uniformed conductor was asleep—no doubt he had taken a drink with Duperré. Besides, the corridor at each end of the sleeping-saloon was closed and locked.
At last, at five minutes to three, I very cautiously opened my door and stepped into the empty corridor. The train was again in a tunnel, the noise deafening and the atmosphere stifling. As soon as we were out in the open I noiselessly lowered the window and found that we were passing through a mountainous country, for every moment we passed over some rushing torrent or through some narrow ravine.
It was already three o’clock when my nostrils were greeted with a pungent sickly odor of attar of roses, which seemed to be wafted along the corridor. It emanated, I imagined, from one of the compartments occupied by lady travellers.