21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series)

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  “I have no news,” the General confessed. “Events in Paris are calm, for a wonder. Both my chief subordinates are there. I ventured myself to take a few days.”

  Mermillon patted his companion on the shoulder.

  “My dear friend,” he declared, “no one deserves it more. No one is a better judge of when Paris may safely be left. Is it my fancy or did I not hear that you had a charming chalet in these parts?”

  “It is an old villa, well enclosed, almost a hiding-place, up on the lighthouse hill,” Perissol replied. “It suits me for my brief vacations. I require a measure of solitude. You and I have both very full official lives, if I may venture to compare my occupation to yours. Sometimes it is necessary to get away from the voices.”

  Mermillon sipped his coffee thoughtfully. He buttered himself a roll with great deliberation.

  “I agree with you, my dear colleague,” he assented. “Sometimes it happens, however, that one finds oneself, as they say in England—‘combining business with pleasure.’”

  Perissol moved no muscle of his face. There was a light of mild inquiry in his eyes.

  “The boat yonder, for instance—” Perissol nodded indifferently.

  “We did hear rumours that she had been in the hands of suspected people,” he admitted. “Exaggerated rumours, I fancy.”

  “Ah, you have interested yourself in her, then?” Mermillon asked, smiling.

  “To some small extent,” Perissol admitted. “We had the opportunity of examining her as she lay in Toulon harbour. We made use of the Naval Secrets Bill and examined her all over. There was nothing. She was ownerless then, or her owner was away, I forget which, so we were able to go about our task without interruption. When I return to Paris I can, if it interests you, send you the papers.”

  The Cabinet Minister shook his head.

  “I have enough business of my own to attend to,” he observed a little ruefully, “without interfering in your department. She belongs to an Englishman now, they tell me.”

  “Englishman or American,” Perissol replied, “I forget which.”

  “A very pig-headed fellow,” Mermillon declared. “Apart from those faint rumours which your investigations seem to have squashed, I would have bought the boat for my lad. I offered the owner quite a decent price, but he would have nothing to say to me. The personal characteristics of these Anglo-Saxons are exactly on a par with their national tendencies. They have always made life very difficult for politicians who take a broader outlook.”

  “I feel that I can never be sufficiently thankful,” Perissol reflected, “for the fact that I understand nothing about international politics. I think that if I were able to look out upon the world to-day with the inner knowledge that a trained politician, such as yourself, must have I should go crazy. It is certain that I should never be able to continue my work.”

  “I appreciate your point of view,” Mermillon meditated, “but there must be times, General, when you are forced to come into touch, and very close touch, too, with internal politics.”

  Perissol shook his head. He had accepted a cigarette after his coffee, and was leaning back in his chair smoking with an air of calm enjoyment.

  “It is my business,” he said, “to keep down crime. That is sufficient.”

  “When I first entered the Chamber,” Mermillon confided, “a young man, full of ambition, and with a very single purpose, I might have agreed with you. To-day-well, there is still the shadow of that ghastly case which no patriotic Frenchman mentions but which we all remember. That and the man’s sudden death afterwards. There was crime there, and there has been an aftermath of crime; but, alas, we all know that there was also politics.”

  “That case was not typical,” Perissol pointed out. “There has never been another like it. All France is hoping that there never will be again.”

  “And with good reason,” Mermillon declared fervently.

  “Believe me. General, you are well off to be at the head of a great service which is’ not directly concerned with politics. There are men whom we meet day by day in Paris, men who are loved and men who are hated, who, at the back of our minds, we know have to bear the burden of almost intolerable secrets. They have to bear that burden for the sake of La Patrie. Believe me, the embers of that flaming bonfire of filth are still alight.”

  “This sounds like drama,” Perissol muttered, “out of place amongst such serenity as this—this strengthening sunshine and the whispering wind.”

  “It is drama.” Mermillon insisted, “drama walking in a guise it has never assumed before, but very terrible drama. I think that there is no one else in the world to whom I would say this, Perissol, but even to-day a blunderer, by a single ill-advised action, if chance gave him the opportunity, might bring about the ruin of the country we both love so much.

  “Yon go beyond me,” Perissol confessed. “I will give you an analogy,” Mermillon suggested, gazing across the bay and watching a figure upon the Bird of Paradise. “There are many explorers and philosophers who will tell you that the class of people who have done more harm in the world than any other have done it through being over zealous to do good. So, in the case to-day of our beloved Mother country, she is in danger only when people, whilst working with the honest belief that their end and aim is for her good, might bring about a great catastrophe. Such people are cursed with narrow vision.”

  “Except,” General Perissol acknowledged, “that I believe I understand something of the dynamics of crime, a great deal concerning its distribution, and have theories of my own as to dealing with it. I am an ignorant man. When you talk about any catastrophe to be brought about by plotters which might threaten the security of France, you talk in a language which I do not understand. If you spoke of war I might follow you. I gather, however, that it is not war you mean.”

  “Cast your thoughts back to that forbidden period,” Mermillon enjoined sadly. “Think of some of those whose names you have heard whispered in connection with it. It is the corruption of humanity, of educated humanity, the corruption which has found its way into the best and most secret places which I have in my mind. Compared with that the menace of Germany or any foreign power is nothing. The philandering of England, the commercial outcry against us from America, the perpetualally waved sword of Italy will never harm us. If France perishes the deed is her own.”

  “But surely our present position—” Perissol began.

  “Let us have done with the subject,” Mermillon interrupted. “Discussive talk is useless and it will never come within your province, dear General, to strike either the blow that would free France or the blow that would cripple her for ever. You must not take me too seriously. You know the critics of my career do sometimes say this against me, that I have done good work, that I am a sound statesman, and that I have shown myself a real patriot, but that I am also something of a dreamer. Let us leave it at that. I may have that faculty of seeing too far across the horizon into a visionary kingdom. Sometimes too strong a vision bleeds horrible fancies…We are to have a strange neighbour, it seems.”

  He inclined his head seaward towards the opening of the bay. There was a line of dark smoke curling upward from a long grey vessel moving at a considerable speed. Mermillon examined it through his glasses in interested fashion.

  “What on earth can this be?” he exclaimed.

  “Probably an old-fashioned oil tanker on its way to Antibes harbour,” Perissol observed, as he rose to his feet. “I see them sometimes from my windows.”

  Mermillon, his glasses still in his hand, moved to the side of the yacht.

  “But this is unbelievable,” he pointed out. “It is a small gunboat—one of our own, I imagine, to judge by the flag. What on earth can she be doing coming in here?”

  She was travelling now at half-speed—a shallow grey warship of somewhat antiquated type, but still formidable with her sharp bow and the morning sun flashing upon her forward guns. Perissol looked at her steadily.

  “I do not
understand naval movements,” he remarked, “but is it not strange that she should be travelling alone?”

  “I should have thought so,” Mermillon agreed, lowering his glasses. “Certainly she has no business in here.”

  The two men watched her with interest as she made slow progress towards them. An officer upon the bridge held a chart in one hand. Two marines were taking soundings. Her anchor went down finally in the middle of the bay about a hundred yards away from the Bird of Paradise.

  “Incredible,” Mermillon murmured.

  “Incredible, but it has happened,” Perissol observed. “After all, it is not the first time.”

  “It is one of those apparently simple affairs which intrigue one,” the other reflected. “I shall forget for the moment that I am spending my brief vacation incognito. I shall send across a note to the commander and ask for an explanation of his visit.”

  “Why not wait and see if he has not brought some sort of a message for you?” Perissol suggested.

  Mermillon shook his head.

  “I am devoured by a curiosity which is worse than the curiosity of a woman,” he confessed with an easy smile. “I must know, and know at once, what an unescorted French gunboat is doing in Garoupe Bay. You will excuse me while I write a note, General. Perhaps you would like the pinnace to take you ashore?”

  “I think I should like to wait and hear the news,” the latter said. “Ah,” he added, with a change of tone. “My curiosity is already assuaged.”

  “What do you mean?” Mermillon demanded, pausing on his way below.

  Perissol pointed to the landing stage belonging to the great château in the woods opposite.

  “The Marquis de Montelimar who lives opposite,” he confided, “has two sons in the navy. He has also one singularly attractive daughter. Look! I fancy that the mystery is solved.”

  A motor boat had shot out from the basin at the end of which was the landing stage. Her prow was in the air from the moment she started. Almost before Mermillon had time to reply she was half way to the gun-boat.

  “A possible solution, without a doubt,” the latter admitted. “Nevertheless, I shall invite the commander to make me a call. Private excursions in gunboats of the French navy are not exactly orthodox. Every now and then,” he concluded, with a shrug of the shoulders, “even a Cabinet Minister who has the reputation of being an economist has to assert himself.”

  General Perissol did what he seldom did—he hesitated. The situation presented its own special difficulties.

  “In a way, my friend,” he said, “I, too, am greatly intrigued by this arrival. I, too, when I reflect upon the matter, feel that it is within the province of my duty to pay a visit to the commander. Should you consider me in any way intrusive if I ventured to accompany you?”

  Mermlllon’s smile was altogether disarming.

  “My dear General,” he said, “how could you imagine such a thing? Nothing would give me greater pleasure. I shall delay you only a matter of five or ten minutes whilst I clothe myself. The cutter will be ready. We will solve this mystery together. A bientôt.”

  The motor boat which had put off from the beach of the Marquis de Montelimar drew up with a great commotion on the far side of the gunboat. Rather reluctantly an échelle was let down. Louise, in beautifully cut blue flannel pyjamas and seaman’s jersey, ran lightly up the steps. An officer stood at the top, who saluted, but the opening on to the deck was barred.

  “You will pardon me, Madame,” he announced, “but visitors are not allowed without due notice.”

  “I am sure your commander will have a word with me,” Louise insisted. “The matter is urgent.”

  “Your name, Madame?” the officer enquired. “I am the Princess de Fantany, but my name does not matter. I have a private message from the person whom the commander has come to meet here, which must be delivered instantly.”

  The officer saluted and made a brief report to his commander. The latter made his appearance almost at once. His manner was not exactly hospitable.

  “We know who you are, of course, Princess,” he admitted, “but, as my lieutenant has told you, we are not prepared to receive visitors.”

  “Naturally,” she replied, “but listen. You have come here with orders from your Admiral at Toulon, but at the instigation of the Chef de la Surete of France. I am in General Perissol’s confidence, as he will tell you when you meet. There is also here in the bay another Cabinet Minister—the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. You have instructions, I believe, to reveal to no one except to General Perissol the reason for your coming.”

  “My mission entails a certain amount of secrecy,” the commander acknowledged, a little bewildered. One thing, however, is certain—I am here to do the bidding of the Chef de la Surete Nationale.”

  “Then please accept these instructions, which will be confirmed personally by him in the course of the morning,” she begged. “You are here to take soundings of the place and to present a report to the Admiralty. It is quite a usual thing, I believe, for ships of your class to pay visits of this description.”

  The pinnace was lying by tile side of the “Aigle Noir” and already Mermillon had appeared in the act of descending the gangway. Louise’s expression and tone at once became vital.

  “You will please understand that this is a serious matter,” she continued. “I do not ask you to take my word. You admit that you are here to do the bidding of General Perissol—the most important man in France—and to keep silent as to your business from anyone else. I simply ask you to remember that. The General has special need of your services, but without secrecy they would be useless.”

  “Did the General send you here to me, Princess?” the commander inquired.

  “He did not, because he has not had time,” she answered. “The trouble is that you have arrived twenty-four hours before you were expected. I happen to know something of the position. I saw your arrival and I hastened here to remind you. You must answer questions and obey orders only from Monsieur le General and no one else must know that you are here at his bidding.”

  “This is entirely in accordance with my instructions, Princess,” the commander acquiesced after a moment’s reflection. “I will accept your hint. I will confer with no one else until I have spoken privately with the General. At the same time, most regretfully, I can only repeat that I must not allow you on board without permission from General Perissol.”

  She laughed at him lightly.

  “I have not the least desire to come,” she assured him. “I have accomplished all that I wish. Later on, however, you will probably receive a visit from my great friends here at the château. The Marquis de Montelimar has two sons in the navy.”

  “François is on one of our destroyers at Toulon,” the commander remarked, unbending at last. “We shall hope to have the pleasure of entertaining you on board then, Princess.”

  The sound of the approaching launch terrified her. She ran down the stops back into the boat and shot away at a great speed. She pretended not to notice the arriving visitors. The commander remained in his place to receive his guests. It was the General who first mounted the steps. Mermillon was watching with a slight frown upon his face the retreating launch, headed now for the open sea with a long line of white foam behind it.

  The commander leaned over the rail as the two men mounted.

  “May I inquire as to the reason for your visit, gentlemen?” he asked.

  “Certainly, Commander,” Mermillon replied. “I will tell you our names which may do instead. Mine is Edouard Mermillon, and I have the honour to be, as you probably know, a minister in the French Cabinet. The gentleman behind me is, however, a really famous person. He is General Perissol, occupying the new post of Chef de la Surete of the whole of the French police. He has also a portfolio.”

  The commander stood on one side. The other officers saluted. The way was made clear.

  “I am proud to receive you, gentlemen,” the former said. “Please step on board.
We have nothing very luxurious in the way of accommodation here,” he added, as he ushered them down the deck. “Such as we have, however, is at your disposition. This is my cabin.”

  Cigarettes and cigars were produced. Mermillon courteously waved them on one side.

  “At this hour of the morning we are full of apologies for our visit. I happened to be on the deck of my boat with General Perissol here, and saw you come in, commander. I must confess to having been greatly intrigued.”

  “In what manner, sir?”

  “Why, I find it difficult to understand what affairs a naval unit could possibly have, unattached to any force, in a small bay like this.”

  There was a moment’s silence. In Mermillon’s lazy voice there had been no trace of anything beyond a mild curiosity. Perissol was standing—a little in the background—a grim and silent figure. It was an unfortunate position in which he had been placed. If things went ill, he was preparing himself. Nevertheless, the commander’s reply was an immense relief to him.

  “Well, sir,” the latter confided, “our navy regulations book, as you know, forbids us to answer any question from strangers, but a Cabinet Minister has, of course, special rights. I have been sent here by the admiral at Toulon to take some soundings around the opening of this bay at various states of the tide.”

  “I must admit,” Mermillon acknowledged frankly, “that I never dreamt of such a thing. I thought of every reason for your presence here, but that. By-the-by, you have been so courteous that I shall venture upon one more question—was it my fancy, or did you not receive a lady visitor a few minutes ago?”

  “I did not receive her, sir,” was the prompt denial. “It would have been utterly contrary to regulations.”

  “Did she go so far as to explain the reason of her coming?” Mermillon persisted gently.

  “I gathered,” the other explained, “that she was staying at the château, the owner of which—the Marquis de Montelimar—has two sons in the navy, both in our fleet. She wished to offer me the hospitality of her friends, but I had to tell her we could not accept until our work here was finished.”