The Blue Lights

• The book has been corrected for spelling and grammatical errors
• Illustrated book with resized images for the NOOK

CHAPTER II
RICHARD DUVALL arrived in New York at half past one o'clock Thursday morning. Hodgman, Mr. Stapleton's secretary, had wired ahead the news of their coming, and the banker's limousine awaited them at the railway station. Fifteen minutes later they were ascending the steps of Mr. Stapleton's residence on Fifth Avenue.

Duvall had not been to the house before. His previous interviews with the banker had taken place at the latter's office, in Broad Street. He had no time now, however, to observe the luxury of his surroundings. Mr. Hodgman hurried him at once to the library, and in a few moments Mr. Stapleton had joined them.

He greeted Duvall with a nervous handshake, and thanked him for his prompt coming. He was clearly laboring under an intense mental strain.

"Mr. Hodgman has explained my reasons for sending for you, Mr. Duvall?" he inquired, sinking into a great leather-covered chair.

"Yes." Duvall nodded.

"Then you can appreciate my feelings." He sat in silence for several moments, looking gloomily at the floor.

"Perfectly."

"The devils! I wouldn't care if they were to steal my property—money, securities, anything like that. I can fight them—on that basis. But my child! Don't you see why your coming was of the utmost importance to me? I don't dare move against these rascals openly. If I do, they will threaten to retaliate by injuring my boy, and I am powerless. Whatever I do, must be done secretly. No one must know that you are in my employ. No one must know your object in going to Paris. You see that?"

"Most certainly. These fellows cannot hold you responsible for any moves the police authorities of Paris may make; over them you of course have no control. But if you make any efforts on your own account, any independent efforts, to recover your boy, they must by all means be made in secret."

"Exactly. You understand, then, what you are to do?"

"Yes. But first I must ask you, Mr. Stapleton, to give me some account of the affair. Mr. Hodgman has told me only that your son has been kidnapped. No doubt you have learned by this time how the thing was done."

"What I have learned, Mr. Duvall, convinces me of the importance of being on the ground at once. The affair, as cabled to me by my wife, is preposterous—absurd!" He again gazed at the floor in gloomy preoccupation.

"How so?" the detective inquired.

"I will tell you. My boy, who, as you know, is six years old, has been in the habit of driving, each morning, accompanied by his nurse, from my house in the Avenue Kleber, to the Bois de Boulogne. On arriving in the Bois, it has been their habit to leave the automobile in which they came, and spend an hour or more walking and playing on the grass. I have insisted on this, because the boy needs exercise, and he cannot get it driving about in a motor car."

"During this hour what becomes of the car?" asked Duvall.

"Our orders have been, of course, for the chauffeur to wait, within sight and call. I believe he has done so."

"Thank you. Go ahead."