The Destroyer A Tale of International Intrigue   By: Burton Egbert Stevenson (1872-1962)

A TALE OF INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE

[Illustration]

BY

BURTON E. STEVENSON

Author of "The Holladay Case," "The Marathon Mystery," "The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet," etc.

NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1921

COPYRIGHT, 1913

BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY

THE DESTROYER

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I THE TWENTY FIFTH OF SEPTEMBER 1

II FRANCE IN MOURNING 14

III TWO GREAT MEN MEET 31

IV THE ALLIES AT WORK 47

V AT THE CAFÉ DES VOYAGEURS 60

VI THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS 77

VII THE HUT IN THE GROVE 88

VIII THE SECOND INSTALLATION 108

IX CHECKMATE 124

X THE LAND OF FREEDOM 137

XI SHIPMATES 147

XII UNDER RUSSIAN RULE 158

XIII IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE 170

XIV THE MESSAGE 182

XV A WORD OF WARNING 196

XVI A CHARGE TO KEEP 208

XVII THE FIRST CONFERENCE 221

XVIII THE SUBSTITUTE SENTRY 239

XIX THE SECOND CONFERENCE 256

XX THE PRINCE SEEKS DIVERSION 269

XXI ON THE EDUCATION OF PRINCES 283

XXII THE EVENTS OF MONDAY 296

XXIII THE LANDING 310

XXIV PACHMANN SCORES 321

XXV THE TRAP 334

XXVI THE TURN OF THE SCREW 346

XXVII THE VOICE AT THE DOOR 357

XXVIII CROCHARD, THE INVINCIBLE! 370

XXIX THE ESCAPE 382

XXX COUNCIL OF WAR 397

XXXI THE ALLIANCE ENDS 407

XXXII STRASBOURG 420

THE DESTROYER

CHAPTER I

THE TWENTY FIFTH OF SEPTEMBER

Monsieur Aristide Brisson, the fat little proprietor of the Hotel du Nord a modest house facing the Place Puget at Toulon turned uneasily in his sleep, as though fretted by a disturbing dream; then he awoke with a start and rubbed his eyes. A glance at the dark windows showed that the dawn was yet far distant, and he was about to turn over and go thankfully to sleep again when a sudden remembrance leaped into his brain. In an instant, he had bounded from the bed, struck a match, and, after a look at his watch, lighted a candle. Then he returned to the bed, and, without compunction, grasped the plump arm of Madame Brisson, who was sleeping peacefully, and shook her roughly.

"Wake, Gabrielle, wake!" he cried in French, of course.

Madame Brisson, who was also little and fat with a white skin that was her pride, opened her eyes, stared an instant, and then sat up in bed.

"Heavens, Brisson!" she cried, her hand to her throat. "What is it? What has happened? Have you illness?"

"No, no!" said her husband, who was struggling with his trousers. "But rise, quickly!"

Madame Brisson glanced at the dark windows.

"I do not understand," she said.

"Ah, Gabrielle," said her husband reproachfully, "I should never have believed you could have forgotten! It is to day, at sunrise, that our guests depart!"

"Heavens!" cried Madame Brisson again, and she, too, bounded from the bed and began to don her clothes with trembling fingers. "That I should have forgotten! Forgive me, Aristide! What hour is it?"