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Updated: May 5, 2025
But he said quietly to the soldier: "I would like to see M. de Cassaud, the Commissaire of Police." Hillyard was led apart; his card was taken from him; he was ushered instantly into an office where an elderly French officer sat in mufti before a table. He shook Hillyard cordially by the hand. "You pass through? I myself hope to visit Barcelona again very soon.
But so many certainties had been disproved, so many possibilities had come to pass during the last two years, that Hillyard was sceptical to his finger-tips. M. de Cassaud was a long time away. Yes, certainly M. de Cassaud was a very long and the door opened, and M. de Cassaud appeared. "He is giving an account of his blankets and his towels. There are two soldiers at the door. He is safe.
But some of them may want a special treatment of which we have the secret." M. de Cassaud was doubtful about the propriety of such a procedure. "After all I found them," Martin urged. "It would be unusual," said M. de Cassaud. "The regulations, you know " Martin Hillyard smiled. "The regulations, for you and me, my friend, are those we make ourselves."
M. de Cassaud would admit nothing so outrageous to his trained and rather formal mind. But he made a list of these letters and of their addresses as though he was undecided. He had not finished when a sergeant entered and saluted. The attendant of the sleeping-car had been taken to the depot. He had been searched and a pistol had been found upon him.
"Look, monsieur," said Hillyard, and he pointed to the little aperture in the coloured glass of the window. "One can see from the corridor what is going on in this room. That is useful. If a traveller complains bah, it is the war!" and Hillyard laughed. M. de Cassaud looked at the window. "Yes, that is ingenious," he said.
"In the water-tank of the lavatory there is a little metal case with letters from Berlin for Barcelona and Madrid. But wait, monsieur!" M. de Cassaud was already at the door. "It is the attendant of the sleeping-car who hides them there.
Come!" said the Commissaire. They crossed the platform to the carriage, whilst Hillyard described the attendant's anxiety that he should bolt his door. "No doubt he gave the same advice to the manufacturer of Perpignan," Hillyard added. It was M. de Cassaud who arranged and mounted the steps in the tiny washing-room.
Jean, wait outside with monsieur's baggage," this to the porter who had pushed in behind Hillyard. M. de Cassaud rose and closed the door. He had looked at Hillyard's face and acted quickly. "It is something more than compliments you want from me, monsieur. Well, what can I do?" "The second sleeping-car, compartments numbers 11 and 12," said Hillyard urgently.
Ah, if he had caught you! Yes, if he had caught you!" Martin was quick to take advantage. "Then let me have those letters! I will keep my French colleagues informed of everything." "Very well," said M. de Cassaud, and he suddenly swept the letters across to Hillyard, who gathered them up hastily and buttoned them away in his pocket before de Cassaud could change his mind.
Hillyard drew a deep breath of excitement as he took out from the drawer the letters he had carried off from M. de Cassaud. He had travelled straight through Barcelona to Valencia with the letters in his pocket, picking up Fairbairn at the Estación de Francia on the way, and now, in the sunlight and in the secrecy of the open sea, they were to appraise the value of their catch.
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