A pair of agents had become a bodyguard while Clandine and Delka were walking through the depot. They arrived at a platform. There, Delka saw other agents in readiness, with railway guards and plain-clothes men.
Sergeant Rusanne hurried briskly ahead; then stopped beside a row of cars that were standing empty on one side of the platform. When Delka and Clandine arrived, Rusanne opened the door of an empty compartment.
The prefect invited Delka to step aboard. They entered the gloomy interior of the antiquated third-class coach. Rusanne joined them and closed the door. Peering through the windows, none of the three could be observed by those upon the platform. Monsieur Clandine pointed toward the vacant track beyond.
“When the Fleche d’Or arrives,” explained the prefect, “the car containing Boris Danyar will stop at a spot directly opposite us. He is traveling in the fifth Pullman coach, in the ninth seat from the front, on this side of the car.
“The interior of the car will be illuminated. Hence, Monsieur Delka, we shall be able to observe your bearded friend from the moment that he reaches Paris. Since several minutes remain to us, I shall explain exactly how we intend to effect Danyar’s capture.
“His car is the last of the Golden Arrow Pullmans. The blue cars at the rear of the train are detached and taken from this station by a tank locomotive, for transfer to the Gare de Lyons, a usual procedure. Since the train is late in arriving, that removal will be performed immediately. Meanwhile, passengers will be delayed in leaving the Pullmans, on a pretext of customs formality. Those in the forward cars will be allowed first departure.
“Hence, Danyar will be one of the last to leave. He will be drawn to the rear of the Pullman, after the blue cars are gone. That move will protect the other passengers. All this will be done politely, by guards aboard the train. Danyar will suspect nothing until the final moment.”
THE prefect lowered a window of the darkened compartment so that they could hear as well as see. Slow minutes followed; then came the slackening clatter of a railway train. Delka, staring eagerly, saw the French Golden Arrow roll inward on the track beyond the platform. He recognized the huge locomotive, then the curious bogie chassis, loaded with the luggage boxes from the Steamship Canterbury. After that, the brown and cream Pullmans that he had observed in Calais.
The last of the Golden Arrow Pullmans stopped at its designated place. Delka gripped the window ledge and stared with unrestrained eagerness. There, in the very seat that the prefect had mentioned, was the bearded man from the Channel boat, Boris Danyar, slayer of Rene Levaux.
It was not the fact that the bearded man was a murderer that made Delka so eager for his capture. The clue that Danyar held — some trail to Gaspard Zemba, supercrook of Paris — was the reason why the bearded killer must be taken.
Danyar was rising with the other passengers. Railway guards, entering the car, were making a polite announcement. The passengers settled back impatiently. Delka saw Danyar look from the window; but the rogue’s face showed no suspicion. No one was in sight beside that last car in the line of Pullmans.
Yet the car was covered at both ends. There was a guard at each exit, watching the interior of the car. There were police detectives close by the steps at each platform. Peering from the darkness of the hiding place, Delka noted activities at the rear of the last Pullman.
The blue cars were being promptly detached. At the far end, the tank locomotive had already shifted into position, to draw those through sleepers out into the yards.
Passengers were stepping from the front Pullmans, in regular procession. Looking in that direction, Delka saw the platform clearing. Again, he looked for Danyar. He saw the bearded man rising, along with the others. Two guards had entered and were urging the passengers forward toward the front door of the car.
Danyar shifted in with the others, half pushed by one of the guards. He was among the last few of the thronging passengers. For a moment, he was obscured from Delka’s view. One guard walked back to the rear of the car; then the other followed. Delka saw them step off and nod to the detectives.
A chug from the tank engine at the rear of the train. The blue cars started out into the yards. One guard clambered aboard; then another. The sleepers rolled smoothly from view, clearing the rear of the last Pullman. All was set for the trapping. A guard stepped aboard the rear platform of that car, then two detectives. Delka saw them gripping revolvers in their pockets.
MEANWHILE, the moving passengers had again been delayed within the Pullman. Those at the back of the throng had become impatient and had resumed seats. Boris Danyar had hunched into a luxurious armchair and was bent forward upon both elbows, studying the surface of the table in front of him.
The guard, entering from the rear, watched while forward passengers suddenly found exit. Then, quickly, the guard stepped up to Danyar. The guard was speaking, pointing to the rear of the car, inviting the bearded man to leave by that exit. Danyar gave no response. The guard stood puzzled.
Other passengers were out. The field had been cleared perfectly for Danyar’s capture. Delka saw the two detectives dash in from the rear of the car, to jab their revolvers against Danyar’s ribs. Still, the bearded man was motionless.
Delka heard a sharp exclamation from Monsieur Clandine; then, wildly, the prefect hurled open the door of their car.
With Delka at his heels, Clandine bounded across the platform. Together, they dashed into the Pullman. They arrived to find the two detectives shaking Danyar’s shoulders. A shove sent the bearded man backward in his armchair. Lifeless eyes were staring from above the bearded face.
Danyar’s arms sprawled outward. There, projecting from his breast, was the handle of a knife. A detective wrenched the weapon from Danyar’s chest. There was no flow of blood; nothing more than a tiny crimson blob upon the dead man’s shirt front.
The death knife was a stiletto, long and thin-bladed. It had been jabbed straight into Danyar’s heart by some one in the clustered throng of passengers, during that first rise and shuffle toward the door. Unnoticed, Danyar had slumped into the nearest armchair. The huddle of his arms had concealed the assassin’s weapon.
Death had again blocked the trail to Gaspard Zemba. Death, delivered under the very eyes of the police, with no clue left to the identity of the vanished slayer!
CHAPTER IV
A TRAIL IS FOUND
“GASPARD ZEMBA! This is his deed!” The exclamation came from Monsieur Clandine. Wildly, the Paris prefect gave that news to Delka. While the Scotland Yard man stood silent, Clandine spun about and roared orders to Sergeant Rusanne and the detectives.
“Out to the station! Hold every one who has left the train! We shall find Zemba among them!”
The detectives hastened away. Rusanne remained long enough to deliver a reminding statement:
“The order to hold the passengers was given previously, Monsieur le Prefet. It was arranged in case Boris Danyar managed to leave this car.”
“So it was!” nodded Clandine. “Excellent, Rusanne! The mesh that we prepared for Danyar will gain Zemba, instead. Go, Rusanne. See that all officers are obeying orders. I shall join you within a few minutes.”
As Rusanne left, the prefect drew a deep breath. He stared at Danyar’s body; then shrugged his shoulders. At last, he turned to Delka, with a positive statement.
“Gaspard Zemba is a clever rogue,” declared Clandine. “But his career will end, once he is captured by the law. He cannot hide his identity.”