I opened it in astonishment to find the gray-headed old millionaire in his pajamas.
“I’ve been robbed!” he gasped. “I can’t wake the conductor. He’s been drugged, I believe! What number is Mr. Rayne’s compartment?”
“Number four,” I answered. “But what has been taken?” I asked.
“Bonds that I was taking to my agent in Marseilles—over sixty thousand pounds’ worth! My kitbag has been opened and the dispatch-box has been opened also while I’ve been asleep. The thief has evidently had the conductor’s key or he couldn’t have got into my compartment! The bonds must be still in the possession of one of the passengers,” he added. “Our last stop was at Mâcon and I was awake then.”
Together we woke up Rayne, who at once busied himself in great alarm.
“Possibly the bonds have been thrown from the train to an accomplice,” he suggested, exchanging glances with me.
“No. I’m sure they are still here—in the car. When next we stop I will prevent anyone leaving, and have all the passengers searched. The one thing that puzzles me is how the thief got to work without waking me, as I always place a little electric alarm on my bag when travelling with securities—and secondly, how did he manage to open both the bag and the dispatch-box it contained?”
“Well,” said Rayne. “Don’t let us raise any alarm, but just wait till we get to Lyons. Then we’ll see that nobody alights before we call the police.” Then, turning to me, he said: “You’ll keep one door, Hargreave, and I’ll keep the other, while Mr. Blumenfeld gives information.”
Thus we waited. But I was sorely puzzled as to the whereabouts of the stolen bonds. If Duperré had taken them, how had he got rid of them? That he had done so was quite plain by Rayne’s open attitude.
Presently, in the dawn, we ran slowly into Lyons, whereupon, with Rayne, I mounted guard, allowing no one to leave. Two men wanted to descend to obtain some café au lait, as is customary, and were surprised when prevented.