With John Paul Jones

Upon reaching Paris the three immediately sought out lodgings and removed the grime of the road. Then the commander and Ethan went to call upon Dr. Franklin and present their dispatches.

The rooms of the famous philosopher, sage and statesman were modestly furnished, but were crowded by a most brilliantly attired company. No representative of a foreign government at the Court of France had ever created such a marked impression as this American commissioner. The imaginative French saw in him one of the sages of ancient Greece reincarnated. His advanced age, his natural dignity, his virtues, his undoubted wisdom made him a man of mark. The courtiers of King Louis admired and respected him, and it was seldom, indeed, that a group of influential persons and young soldiers were not to be found in his rooms.

He received Captain Jones and Ethan with great heartiness, for he was ever eager for news.

“My dear sir,” said he, holding the officer’s hand tight clasped within his own, “I am most happy to meet you. Your exploits upon the sea have long been known to us here in France, and if every American ship had a commander like you, we’d have the enemy suing for peace within a twelve-month.”

John Paul Jones flushed with pleasure. It is noted of him that he ever loved to be praised, and praise from such a man as Franklin was praise, indeed.

The sage had not at the beginning of the war with England, given much thought to the sea as a place to meet the foe in the struggle for liberty; being a landsman this was, perhaps, natural. But upon his voyage to France in the Reprisal, Captain Lambert Wickes, his eyes had been opened to the possibilities of what might be done upon deep water. This was the first American war vessel to cross the Atlantic, and two rich prizes were captured under the philosopher’s eyes. When these were sold at a French port and the proceeds added to his slender means his admiration knew no bounds. He saw at once how the enemy might be so weakened by a few swift cruisers in the German ocean as to cripple them permanently; and the dispatching of the Lexington and the other brave little vessels which carried the war under the very shadow of the English cliffs was made according to his suggestion.

It had somehow become noised abroad that the daring and successful American sailor Paul Jones was to call upon Mr. Franklin that morning, and the throng present were most anxious to see and lionize him. They knew too, that he must bring tidings as to the progress of the war.

Count de Vergennes, minister of foreign affairs, was present, and his interest was most marked; upon being introduced to Captain Jones he at once plunged into the subject of the American conflict.

“You and your countrymen have done excellently upon the sea,” admitted the count, “but upon the land you have not been so successful.”

“General Washington is still in the field. He will never surrender.”

“That may be true. But he is retreating, retreating—ever retreating. This does not win battles. The British are apparently triumphant upon every hand. Your army has been driven from Canada; you have evacuated Long Island; New York is in the hands of your country’s foes; and it is rumored that the American soldier is throwing down his arms and taking advantage of the pardon which General Howe offered all who would return.”

As he stood at a window some little distance from the group about the commander of the Ranger and the French minister, Ethan noted the eager interest of all. He also saw that Dr. Franklin had opened the letters which had been handed him but still held the secret packet with its seals unbroken; he smiled over the letters as one smiles who is highly pleased.

As the minister continued in the same strain for some time, it dawned upon Ethan that the news of Gates’ victory had not yet reached him, and with a thrill he realized that there was a surprise in store for those present. At length Dr. Franklin lifted his venerable head and said, with a quiet smile:

“But, my dear count, you have not yet heard of the affair of Burgoyne.”

The minister of foreign affairs laughed.

“You must not think us so far behind the times, monsieur,” he said. “Burgoyne compelled the Americans to retreat from Ticonderoga some time ago. And he followed this up by severely defeating them at a place called Hubbardton. This news reached us promptly and through a channel which we never question.”

“My news,” and Franklin fluttered his letters triumphantly, “is very much later than yours, it would seem. Burgoyne undoubtedly accomplished what you claim. But it is the result of his subsequent operations of which I speak.”

“You have news, monsieur?” The face of the Count de Vergennes shone with satisfaction; this gentleman was ever a friend to America, and was always hungry for news of American success.

“Burgoyne’s troubles began with his advance upon Fort Edward. A thousand German mercenaries were killed and captured to begin with. Then he crossed the Hudson in force to turn the American position at Bemis Heights; but Arnold met him with desperate courage and held him back.”

A murmur of admiration went up from the Frenchmen present.

“A brilliant officer, this General Arnold,” commented the count.

“Burgoyne’s communications with Lake Champlain were then cut by a dashing enterprise of my countrymen; forced by the hunger of his men, the British general risked another battle,” proceeded Dr. Franklin, “and met with a crushing defeat.”

Another murmur went up; eyes sparkled with pleasure; hands applauded softly.

“But,” argued the Count de Vergennes, “the tables might be turned once more. Burgoyne may still conquer.”

Franklin smiled serenely.

“That is impossible,” said he.

“An hour ago I would have said as much for Arnold’s chances of victory,” said the count.

“I said that Burgoyne’s chance of ultimate victory was impossible, because after his defeat he retreated upon Saratoga. Finding himself surrounded he surrendered his entire force to General Gates.”

A cry of delight went up; the Americans were congratulated heartily.

“It was such news as this that we have been waiting for,” whispered the minister of foreign affairs to the aged commissioner. “From now on things will take a turn; success will await your negotiations now, where only delay and disappointment met you in the past.”

When all had gone save Captain Jones and Ethan Carlyle, Dr. Franklin said:

“You will pardon me, I’m sure. These letters spoke of a document of much importance as being in this packet.”

He broke the great red seals and tore off the covering; then, as they watched him, they saw his face take on a bewildered look.

“What is it?” cried Captain Jones.

“Strange,” said Dr. Franklin. “The entire page is blank save only for one word. Look.”

He held out the sheet, and they found staring them in the face, scrawled in huge, sprawling letters, the name:

“Siki.”

“Robbed!” exclaimed John Paul Jones.

“He got the packet after all,” cried Ethan, with a great leap at his heart.

“Explain your meaning,” said Dr. Franklin, still bewildered. “I do not understand.”

In as few words as possible the entire story of the attempt made to steal the papers was told him. He listened intently, and shook his head gloomily at the end.

“He was a cunning rascal, indeed, that Lascar,” said he. “He took the packet and substituted another resembling it in order to delay the alarm long enough to permit him to get safe away.”

“But,” cried Paul Jones, “how could he know anything about the appearance of the packet?”

“You forget our young friend’s statement that the Lascar saw it lying upon the table between him and Mr. Hancock. For a fellow as keen as he it only required a glance and he carried away a picture of it in his mind.”

“The attack at the inn is more than I can understand,” said Ethan. “If they already had the dispatch why should they set upon us after demanding it? The matter has a queer look.”

“Most queer,” agreed the sage, wrinkling his brows. “And, to me, there seems to be only one explanation: The Lascar stole the dispatch and kept the fact hidden from his employer and comrades. He had come to understand that it was a very valuable thing and made up his mind that the profit to come from it was to be all his own.”

“Bravo,” cried John Paul Jones. “That must be it—and that fact holds out a promise.”

“Of what nature?”

“We may recover the dispatch! The Lascar will be forced to sound every step of his way toward the disposal of the paper. He may know that it is valuable but he will not know to whom.”

“A good thought,” said Mr. Franklin. “As long as it does not reach the British ministers, who alone would understand it, the paper can do no harm.”

“It shall not reach them,” cried Ethan. “I’ll hunt this man, Siki, all over Europe but what I’ll have the dispatch from him!”

And Captain Jones reached forward and clasped him by the hand.