The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [4298]
"It's impossible! He's mad!"
"You dare to accuse Frederic Larsan, Monsieur?" asked the President. "If you are not mad, what are your proofs?"
"Proofs, Monsieur?--Do you want proofs? Well, here is one," cried Rouletabille shrilly. "Let Frederic Larsan be called!"
"Usher, call Frederic Larsan."
The usher hurried to the side door, opened it, and disappeared. The door remained open, while all eyes turned expectantly towards it. The clerk re-appeared and, stepping forward, said:
"Monsieur President, Frederic Larsan is not here. He left at about four o'clock and has not been seen since."
"That is my proof!" cried Rouletabille, triumphantly.
"Explain yourself?" demanded the President.
"My proof is Larsan's flight," said the young reporter. "He will not come back. You will see no more of Frederic Larsan."
"Unless you are playing with the court, Monsieur, why did you not accuse him when he was present? He would then have answered you."
"He could give no other answer than the one he has now given by his flight."
"We cannot believe that Larsan has fled. There was no reason for his doing so. Did he know you'd make this charge?"
"He did. I told him I would."
"Do you mean to say that knowing Larsan was the murderer you gave him the opportunity to escape?"
"Yes, Monsieur President, I did," replied Rouletabille, proudly. "I am not a policeman, I am a journalist; and my business is not to arrest people. My business is in the service of truth, and is not that of an executioner. If you are just, Monsieur, you will see that I am right. You can now understand why I refrained until this hour to divulge the name. I gave Larsan time to catch the 4:17 train for Paris, where he would know where to hide himself, and leave no traces. You will not find Frederic Larsan," declared Rouletabille, fixing his eyes on Monsieur Robert Darzac. "He is too cunning. He is a man who has always escaped you and whom you have long searched for in vain. If he did not succeed in outwitting me, he can yet easily outwit any police. This man who, four years ago, introduced himself to the Surete, and became celebrated as Frederic Larsan, is notorious under another name--a name well known to crime. Frederic Larsan, Monsieur President, is Ballmeyer!"
"Ballmeyer!" cried the President.
"Ballmeyer!" exclaimed Robert Darzac, springing to his feet. "Ballmeyer!--It was true, then!"
"Ah! Monsieur Darzac; you don't think I am mad, now!" cried Rouletabille.
Ballmeyer! Ballmeyer! No other word could be heard in the courtroom. The President adjourned the hearing.
Those of my readers who may not have heard of Ballmeyer will wonder at the excitement the name caused. And yet the doings of this remarkable criminal form the subject-matter of the most dramatic narratives of the newspapers and criminal records of the past twenty years. It had been reported that he was dead, and thus had eluded the police as he had eluded them throughout the whole of his career.
Ballmeyer was the best specimen of the high-class "gentleman swindler." He was adept at sleight of hand tricks, and no bolder or more ruthless crook ever lived. He was received in the best society, and was a member of some of the most exclusive clubs. On many of his depredatory expeditions he had not hesitated to use the knife and the mutton-bone. No difficulty stopped him and no "operation" was too dangerous. He had been caught, but escaped on the very morning of his trial, by throwing pepper into the eyes of the guards who were conducting him to Court. It was known later that, in spite of the keen hunt after him by the most expert of detectives, he had sat that same evening at a first performance in the Theatre Francais, without the slightest disguise.
He left France, later, to "work" America. The police there succeeded in capturing him once, but the extraordinary man escaped the next day. It would need a volume to recount the adventures of this master-criminal.