



Produced by D Alexander, Barbara Kosker and the Online
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  THE DESTROYER

  _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 CAFE 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?"

"It is almost four and a half. At five, the coffee must be ready."

"It shall be!" Madame promised, and hurried from the room, to complete
her toilet in the kitchen.

"Fortunately," M. Brisson muttered to himself, "the fire is laid!"

Then, having held his collar to the light and decided that it was clean
enough, he buttoned it about his neck, attached his shiny ready-made
tie, donned his little white coat, picked up the candle and left the
room. Passing along the corridor to the front of the house, he tapped at
a door.

"Who is there?" called a rough voice.

"Your coffee will be ready in twenty minutes, sir," said Brisson.

"Very well; and thank you," answered the voice, and Brisson descended to
the dining-room, opened the shutters, lighted the lamp, and spread the
cloth.

He was contemplating his handiwork, his head to one side, when heavy
steps sounded on the stair, and a moment later two men entered. They
were both of middle-age, somewhat stocky and heavily-built, their hair
close-cropped, their faces smooth-shaven and deeply tanned. They had,
indeed, that indurated look which only years of exposure to wind and
rain can give, except that their upper lips were some shades lighter
than the remainder of the face, betraying the fact that they had, until
recently, been protected by a moustache. They were dressed in somewhat
shabby tweed walking-suits, and wore heavy well-worn shoes. At this
moment, each carried in his hand a little knapsack.

M. Brisson greeted them bent double, hoped that they had slept well,
foretold a fine day, and assured them that coffee would be ready in a
moment.

"Our bags are in our room, properly labelled," said one of them, finding
his words with apparent difficulty and accenting them most queerly.
"They are to go to Nice, where we will claim them."

"I will attend to it. And you, sirs?" asked Brisson.

"It is our intention to walk."

"By way of the Cornice?"

"Yes."

"You will find it a most beautiful road; even in your own America you
will find nothing more beautiful. And how fortunate that you will have
so fine a day! Where will you rest to-night?"

"At Frejus, probably."

"A beautiful town, well worth a visit. Permit me to recommend you, sirs,
that you stop at the Hotel du Midi. The proprietor is a relative of
mine--a nephew, in fact; he will treat you well."

"Thank you,"