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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10410 ***
+
+  The Powers and Maxine
+
+  _By C.N. and A.M. Williamson_
+
+  Author of
+
+  "The Princess Virginia," "My Friend the Chauffeur,"
+  "The Car of Destiny," "The Princess Passes,"
+  "Lady Betty Across the Water," Etc.
+
+
+  Copyright, 1907, by C.N. and A.M. Williamson.
+
+
+  _With Illustrations
+  By FRANK T. MERRILL_
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER
+
+  I.  LISA'S KNIGHT AND LISA'S SISTER
+
+  II. LISA LISTENS
+
+  III. LISA MAKES MISCHIEF
+
+  IV. IVOR TRAVELS TO PARIS
+
+  V.  IVOR DOES WHAT HE CAN FOR MAXINE
+
+  VI. IVOR HEARS THE STORY
+
+  VII. IVOR IS LATE FOR AN APPOINTMENT
+
+  VIII. MAXINE ACTS ON THE STAGE AND OFF
+
+  IX. MAXINE GIVES BACK THE DIAMONDS
+
+  X.  MAXINE DRIVES WITH THE ENEMY
+
+  XI. MAXINE OPENS THE GATE FOR A MAN
+
+  XII. IVOR GOES INTO THE DARK
+
+  XIII. IVOR FINDS SOMETHING IN THE DARK
+
+  XIV. DIANA TAKES A MIDNIGHT DRIVE
+
+  XV. DIANA HEARS NEWS
+
+  XVI. DIANA UNDERTAKES A STRANGE ERRAND
+
+  XVII. MAXINE MAKES A BARGAIN
+
+  XVIII. MAXINE MEETS DIANA
+
+  XIX. MAXINE PLAYS THE LAST HAND OF THE GAME
+
+
+
+
+LISA DRUMMOND'S PART
+
+
+
+
+
+The Powers and Maxine
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+LISA'S KNIGHT AND LISA'S SISTER
+
+It had come at last, the moment I had been thinking about for days. I
+was going to have him all to myself, the only person in the world I ever
+loved.
+
+He had asked me to sit out two dances, and that made me think he really
+must want to be with me, not just because I'm the "pretty girl's
+sister," but because I'm myself, Lisa Drummond.
+
+Being what I am,--queer, and plain, I can't bear to think that men like
+girls for their beauty; yet I can't help liking men better if they are
+handsome.
+
+I don't know if Ivor Dundas is the handsomest man I ever saw, but he
+seems so to me. I don't know if he is very good, or really very
+wonderful, although he's clever and ambitious enough; but he has a way
+that makes women fond of him; and men admire him, too. He looks straight
+into your eyes when he talks to you, as if he cared more for you than
+anyone else in the world: and if I were an artist, painting a picture of
+a dark young knight starting off for the crusades, I should ask Ivor
+Dundas to stand as my model.
+
+Perhaps his expression wouldn't be exactly right for the pious young
+crusader, for it isn't at all saintly, really: still, I have seen just
+that rapt sort of look on his face. It was generally when he was talking
+to Di: but I wouldn't let myself believe that it meant anything in
+particular. He has the reputation of having made lots of women fall in
+love with him. This was one of the first things I heard when Di and I
+came over from America to visit Lord and Lady Mountstuart. And of course
+there was the story about him and Maxine de Renzie. Everyone was talking
+of it when we first arrived in London.
+
+My heart beat very fast as I guided him into the room which Lady
+Mountstuart has given Di and me for our special den. It is separated by
+another larger room from the ballroom; but both doors were open and we
+could see people dancing.
+
+I told him he might sit by me on the sofa under Di's book shelves,
+because we could talk better there. Usually, I don't like being in front
+of a mirror, because--well, because I'm only the "pretty girl's sister."
+But to-night I didn't mind. My cheeks were red, and my eyes bright.
+Sitting down, you might almost take me for a tall girl, and the way my
+gown was made didn't show that one shoulder is a little higher than the
+other. Di designed the dress.
+
+I thought, if I wasn't pretty, I did look interesting, and original. I
+looked as if I could _think_ of things; and as if I could feel.
+
+And I was feeling. I was wondering why he had been so good to me lately,
+unless he cared. Of course it might be for Di's sake; but I am not so
+queer-looking that no man could ever be fascinated by me.
+
+They say pity is akin to love. Perhaps he had begun by pitying me,
+because Di has everything and I nothing; and then, afterwards, he had
+found out that I was intelligent and sympathetic.
+
+He sat by me and didn't speak at first. Just then Di passed the
+far-away, open door of the ballroom, dancing with Lord Robert West, the
+Duke of Glasgow's brother.
+
+"Thank you so much for the book," I said.
+
+(He had sent me a book that morning--one he'd heard me say I wanted.)
+
+He didn't seem to hear, and then he turned suddenly, with one of his
+nice smiles. I always think he has the nicest smile in the world: and
+certainly he has the nicest voice. His eyes looked very kind, and a
+little sad. I willed him hard to love me.
+
+"It made me happy to get it," I went on.
+
+"It made me happy to send it," he said.
+
+"Does it please you to do things for me?" I asked.
+
+"Why, of course."
+
+"You do like poor little me a tiny bit, then?" I couldn't help
+adding--"Even though I'm different from other girls?"
+
+"Perhaps more for that reason," he said, with his voice as kind as his
+eyes.
+
+"Oh, what shall I do if you go away!" I burst out, partly because I
+really meant it, and partly because I hoped it might lead him on to say
+what I wanted so much to hear. "Suppose you get that consulship at
+Algiers."
+
+"I hope I may," he said quickly. "A consulship isn't a very great
+thing--but--it's a beginning. I want it badly."
+
+"I wish I had some influence with the Foreign Secretary," said I, not
+telling him that the man actually dislikes me, and looks at me as if I
+were a toad. "Of course, he's Lord Mountstuart's cousin, and
+brother-in-law as well, and that makes him seem quite in the family,
+doesn't it? But it isn't as if I were really related to Lady
+Mountstuart. I was never sorry before that Di and I are only
+step-sisters--no, not a bit sorry, though her mother had all the money,
+and brought it to my poor father; but now I wish I were Lady
+Mountstuart's niece, and that I had some of the coaxing, 'girly' ways Di
+can put on when she wants to get something out of people. I'd make the
+Foreign Secretary give you exactly what you wanted, even if it took you
+far, far from me."
+
+With that, he looked at me suddenly, and his face grew slowly red, under
+the brown.
+
+"You are a very kind Imp," he said. "Imp" is the name he invented for
+me. I loved to hear him call me by it.
+
+"Kind!" I echoed. "One isn't kind when one--likes--people."
+
+I saw by his eyes, then, that he knew. But I didn't care. If only I
+could make him say the words I longed to hear--even because he pitied
+me, because he had found out how I loved him, and because he had really
+too much of the dark-young-Crusader-knight in him, to break my heart! I
+made up my mind that I would take him at his word, quickly, if he gave
+me the chance; and I would tell Di that he was dreadfully in love with
+me. That would make her writhe.
+
+I kept my eyes on him, and I let them tell him everything. He saw; there
+was no doubt of that; but he did not say the words I hoped for. A moment
+or two he was silent; and then, gazing away towards the door of the
+ballroom, he spoke very gently, as if I had been a child--though I am
+older than Di by three or four years.
+
+"Thank you, Imp, for letting me see that you are such a staunch little
+friend," said he. "Now that I know you really do take an interest in my
+affairs, I think I may tell you why I want so much to go to
+Algiers--though very likely you've guessed already--you are such an
+'intuitive' girl. And besides, I haven't tried very hard to hide my
+feelings--not as hard as I ought, perhaps, when I realise how little I
+have to offer to your sister. Now you understand all, don't you--even if
+you didn't before? I love her, and if I go to Algiers--"
+
+"Don't say any more," I managed to cut him short. "I can't bear--I mean,
+I understand. I--did guess before."
+
+It was true. I had guessed, but I wouldn't let myself believe. I hoped
+against hope. He was so much kinder to me than any other man ever took
+the trouble to be, in all my wretched, embittered twenty-four years of
+life.
+
+"Di might have told me," I went gasping on, rather than let there be a
+long silence between us just then. I had enough pride not to want him to
+see me cry--though, if it could have made any difference, I would have
+grovelled at his feet and wet them with my tears. "But she never does
+tell me anything about herself."
+
+"She's so unselfish and so fond of you, that probably she likes better
+to talk about you instead," he defended her. And then I felt that I
+could hate him, as much as I've always hated Di, deep down in my heart.
+At that minute I should have liked to kill her, and watch his face when
+he found her lying dead--out of his reach for ever.
+
+"Besides," he hurried on, "I've never asked her yet if she would marry
+me, because--my prospects weren't very brilliant. She knows of course
+that I love her--"
+
+"And if you get the consulship, you'll put the important question?" I
+cut him short, trying to be flippant.
+
+"Yes. But I told you tonight, because I--because you were so kind, I
+felt I should like to have you know."
+
+Kind! Yes, I had been too kind. But if by putting out my foot I could
+have crushed every hope of his for the future--every hope, that is, in
+which my stepsister Diana Forrest had any part--I would have done it,
+just as I trample on ants in the country sometimes, for the pleasure of
+feeling that I--even I--have power of life and death.
+
+I swallowed hard, to keep the sobs back. I'm never very strong or well,
+but now I felt broken, ready to die. I was glad when I heard the music
+stop in the ballroom.
+
+"There!" I said. "The two dances you asked me to sit out with you are
+over. I'm sure you're engaged for the next."
+
+"Yes, Imp, I am."
+
+"To Di?"
+
+"No, I have Number 13 with her."
+
+"Thirteen! Unlucky number."
+
+"Any number is lucky that gives me a chance with her. The next one,
+coming now, is with Mrs. George Allendale."
+
+"Oh, yes, the actor manager's wife. She goes everywhere; and Lord
+Mountstuart likes theatrical celebrities. This house ought to be very
+serious and political, but we have every sort of creature--provided it's
+an amusing, or successful, or good-looking one. By the way, used Maxine
+de Renzie to come here, when she was acting in London at George
+Allendale's theatre? That was before Di and I arrived on the scene, you
+remember."
+
+"I remember. Oh, yes, she came here. It was in this house I met her
+first, off the stage, I believe."
+
+"What a sweet memory! Wasn't Mrs. George awfully jealous of her husband
+when he had such a fascinating beauty for his leading lady?"
+
+"I never heard that she was."
+
+"You needn't look cross with me. I'm not saying anything against your
+gorgeous Maxine."
+
+"Of course not. Nobody could. But you mustn't call Miss de Renzie 'my
+Maxine,' please, Imp."
+
+"I beg your pardon," I said. "You see, I've heard other people call her
+that--in joke. And you dedicated your book about Lhassa, that made you
+such a famous person, to her, didn't you?"
+
+"No. What made you think that?" He was really annoyed now, and I was
+pleased--if anything could please me, in my despair.
+
+"Why, everybody thinks it. It was dedicated to 'M.R.' as if the name
+were a secret, so--"
+
+"'Everybody' is very stupid then. 'M.R.' is an old lady, my god-mother,
+who helped me with money for my expedition to Lhassa, otherwise I
+couldn't have gone. And she isn't of the kind that likes to see her name
+in print. Now, where shall I take you, Imp? Because I must go and look
+for Mrs. Allendale."
+
+"I'll stay where I am, thank you," I said, "and watch you dance--from
+far off. That's my part in life, you know: watching other people dance
+from far off."
+
+When he was gone, I leaned back among the cushions, and I wasn't sure
+that one of my heart attacks would not come on. I felt horribly alone,
+and deserted; and though I hate Di, and always have hated her, ever
+since the tiny child and her mother (a beautiful, rich, young
+Californian widow) came into my father's house in New York, she does
+know how to manage me better than anyone else, when I am in such moods.
+I could have screamed for her, as I sat there helplessly looking through
+the open doors: and then, at last, I saw her, as if my wish had been a
+call which had reached her ears over the music in the ballroom.
+
+She had stopped dancing, and with her partner (Lord Robert, again)
+entered the room which lay between our "den" and the ballroom, Probably
+they would have gone on to the conservatory, which can be reached in
+that way, but I cried her name as loudly as I could, and she heard. Only
+a moment she paused--long enough to send Lord Robert away--and then she
+came straight to me. He must have been furious: but I didn't care for
+that.
+
+I had been wanting her badly, but when I saw her, so bright and
+beautiful, looking as if she were the joy of life made incarnate, I
+should have liked to strike her hard, first on one cheek and then the
+other, deepening the rose to crimson, and leaving an ugly red mark for
+each finger.
+
+"Have you a headache, dear?" she asked, in that velvet voice she keeps
+for me--as if I were a thing only fit for pity and protection.
+
+"It's my heart," said I. "It feels like a clock running down. Oh, I wish
+I could die, and end it all! What's the good of me--to myself or
+anyone?"
+
+"Don't talk like that, my poor one," she said. "Shall I take you
+upstairs to your own room?"
+
+"No, I think I should faint if I had to go upstairs," I answered. "Yet I
+can't stay here. What shall I do?"
+
+"What about Uncle Eric's study?" Di asked. She always calls Lord
+Mountstuart 'Uncle Eric,' though he isn't her uncle. Her mother and his
+wife were sisters, that's all: and then there was the other sister who
+married the British Secretary for Foreign Affairs, a cousin of Lord
+Mountstuart's. That family seemed to have a craze for American girls;
+but Lord Mountstuart makes an exception of me. He's civil, of course,
+because he's an abject slave of Di's, and she refused to come and pay a
+visit in England without me: but I give him the shivers, I know very
+well: and I take an impish joy in making him jump.
+
+"I'm sure he won't be there this evening," Di went on, when I hesitated.
+"He's playing bridge with a lot of dear old boys in the library, or was,
+half an hour ago. Come, let me help you there. It's only a step."
+
+She put her pretty arm round my waist, and leaning on her I walked
+across the room, out into a corridor, through a tiny "bookroom" where
+odd volumes and old magazines are kept, into Lord Mountstuart's study.
+
+It is a nice room, which he uses much as his wife uses her boudoir. The
+library next door is rather a show place, but the study has only Lord
+Mountstuart's favourite books in it. He writes there (he has written a
+novel or two, and thinks himself literary), and some pictures he has
+painted in different parts of the world hang on the walls: for he also
+fancies himself artistic.
+
+In one corner is a particularly comfortable, cushiony lounge where, I
+suppose, the distinguished author lies and thinks out his subjects, or
+dreams them out. And it was to this that Di led me.
+
+She settled me among some fat pillows of old purple and gold brocade,
+and asked if she should ring and get a little brandy.
+
+"No," I said, "I shall feel better in a few minutes. It's so nice and
+cool here."
+
+"You look better already!" exclaimed Di. "Soon, when you've lain and
+rested awhile, you'll be a different girl."
+
+"Ah, how I wish I _could_ be a different girl!" I sighed. "A strong,
+well girl, and tall and beautiful, and admired by everyone,--like
+you--or Maxine de Renzie."
+
+"What makes you think of her?" asked Di, quickly.
+
+"Ivor was just talking to me of her. You know he calls me his 'pal,' and
+tells me things he doesn't tell everybody. He thinks a great deal about
+Maxine, still."
+
+"She'd be a difficult woman to forget, if she's as attractive off the
+stage as she is on."
+
+"What a pity we didn't come in time to meet here when she was playing in
+London with George Allendale. Everybody used to invite her to their
+houses, it seems. Ivor was telling me that he first met her here, and
+that it's such a pleasant memory, whenever he comes to this house. I
+suppose that's one reason he likes to come so much."
+
+"No doubt," said Di sharply.
+
+"He got so fascinated talking of her," I went on. "He almost forgot that
+he had a dance with Mrs. Allendale. Of course Maxine had made a great
+hit, and all that; but she didn't stand quite as high as she does now,
+since she's become the fashion in Paris. Perhaps she had nothing except
+her salary, then, whereas she must have saved up a lot of money by this
+time. I have an idea that Ivor would have proposed to her when she was
+in London if he'd thought her success established."
+
+"Nonsense!" Di broke out, her cheeks very pink. "As if Ivor were the
+kind of man to think of such a thing!"
+
+"He isn't very rich, and he is very ambitious. It would be bad for him
+to marry a poor girl, or a girl who wasn't well connected socially. He
+_has_ to think of such things."
+
+I watched the effect of these words, with my eyes half shut; for of
+course Di has all her mother's money, two hundred thousand English
+pounds; and through the Mountstuarts, and her aunt who is married to the
+Foreign Secretary, she has got to know all the best people in England.
+Besides, the King and Queen have been particularly nice to her since she
+was presented, so she has the run of their special set, as well as the
+political and artistic, and "old-fashioned exclusive" ones.
+
+"Ivor Dundas is a law unto himself," she said, "and he has plenty of
+good connections of his own. He'll have a little money, too, some day,
+from an aunt or a god-mother, I believe. Anyway, he and Miss de Renzie
+had nothing more than a flirtation. Aunt Lilian told me so. She said
+Maxine was rather proud to have Ivor dangling about, because everyone
+likes him, and because his travels and his book were being a lot talked
+about just then. Naturally, he admired her, because she's beautiful, and
+a very great actress--"
+
+"Oh, your Aunt Lilian would make little of the affair," I laughed. "She
+flirts with him herself."
+
+"Why, Lisa, Aunt Lilian's over forty, and he's twenty-nine!"
+
+"Forty isn't the end of the world for a woman, nowadays. She's a beauty
+and a great lady. Ivor always wants the best of everything. She flirts
+with him, and he with her."
+
+Di laughed too, but only to make it seem as if she didn't care. "You'd
+better not say such silly things to Uncle Eric," she said, staring at
+the pattern of the cornice. "Aren't those funny, gargoyley faces up
+there? I never noticed them before. But oh--about Mr. Dundas and Maxine
+de Renzie--I don't think, really, that he troubles himself much about
+her any more, for the other day I--I happened to ask what she was
+playing in Paris now, and he didn't know. He said he hadn't been over to
+see her act, as it was too far away, and he was afraid when he wasn't
+too busy, he was too lazy."
+
+"He _said_ so to you, of course. But when he spends Saturday to Monday
+at Folkestone with the godmother who's going to leave him her money, how
+easy to slip over the Channel to the fair Maxine, without anyone being
+the wiser."
+
+"Why shouldn't he slip, or slide, or steam, or sail in a balloon, if he
+likes?" laughed Di, but not happily. "You're looking much better, Lisa.
+You've quite a colour now. Do you feel strong enough to go upstairs?"
+
+"I would rather rest here for awhile, since you think Lord Mountstuart
+is sure not to come," said I. "These pillows are so comfortable. Then
+perhaps, by and by, I shall feel able to go back to the den, and watch
+the dancing. I should like to keep up, if I can, for I know I shan't
+sleep, and the night will seem so long."
+
+"Very well," said Di, speaking kindly, though I knew she would have
+liked to shake me. "I'm afraid I shall have to run away now, for my
+partner will think me so rude. What about supper?"
+
+"Oh, I don't want any. And I shall have gone upstairs before that," I
+interrupted. "Go now, I don't need you any more."
+
+"Ring, and send for me if you feel badly again."
+
+"Yes--yes."
+
+By this time she was at the door, and there she turned with a remorseful
+look in her eyes, as if she had been unkind and was sorry. "Even if you
+don't send, I shall come back by and by, when I can, to see how you
+are," she said. Then she was gone, and I nestled deeper into the sofa
+cushions, with the feeling that my head was so heavy, it must weigh down
+the pillows like a stone.
+
+"She was afraid of missing Number 13 with Ivor," I said to myself.
+"Well--she's welcome to it now. I don't think she'll enjoy it much--or
+let him. Oh, I hope they'll quarrel. I don't think I'd mind anything, if
+only I was sure they'd never be nearer to each other. I wish Di would
+marry Lord Robert. Perhaps then Ivor would turn to me. Oh, my God, how I
+hate her--and all beautiful girls, who spoil the lives of women like
+me."
+
+A shivering fit shook me from head to feet, as I guessed that the time
+must be coming for Number 13. They were together, perhaps. What if, in
+spite of all, Ivor should tell Di how he loved her, and they should be
+engaged? At that thought, I tried to bring on a heart attack, and die;
+for at least it would chill their happiness if, when Lady Mountstuart's
+ball was over, I should be found lying white and dead, like Elaine on
+her barge. I was holding my breath, with my hand pressed over my heart
+to feel how it was beating, when the door opened suddenly, and I heard a
+voice speaking.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+LISA LISTENS
+
+Someone turned up the light. "I'll leave you together," said Lord
+Mountstuart; and the door was closed.
+
+"What could that mean?" I wondered. I had supposed the two men had come
+in alone, but there must have been a third person. Who could it be? Had
+Lord Mountstuart been arranging a tête-à-tête between Di and Ivor
+Dundas?
+
+The thought was like a hand on my throat, choking my life out. I must
+hear what they had to say to each other.
+
+Without stopping to think more, I rolled over and let myself sink down
+into the narrow space between the low couch and the wall, sharply
+pulling the clinging folds of my chiffon dress after me. Then I lay
+still, my blood pounding in my temples and ears, and in my nostrils a
+faint, musty smell from the Oriental stuff that covered the lounge.
+
+I could see nothing from where I lay, except the side of the couch, the
+wall, and a bit of the ceiling with the gargoyley cornice which Di had
+mentioned when she wanted to seem indifferent to the subject of our
+conversation. But I was listening with all my might for what was to
+come.
+
+"Better lock the door, if you please, Dundas," said a voice, which gave
+me a shock of surprise, though I knew it well.
+
+Instead of Di, it was the Foreign Secretary who spoke.
+
+"We won't run the risk of interruptions," he went on, with that slow,
+clear enunciation of his which most Oxford men have, and keep all their
+lives, especially men of the college that was his--Balliol. "I told
+Mountstuart that I wanted a private chat with you. Beyond that, he knows
+nothing, nor does anyone else except myself. You understand that this
+conversation of ours, whether anything comes of it or not, is entirely
+confidential. I have a proposal to make. You'll agree to it or not, as
+you choose. But if you don't agree, forget it, with everything I may
+have said."
+
+"My services and my memory are both at your disposal," answered Ivor, in
+such a gay, happy voice that something told me he had already talked
+with Diana--and that in spite of me she had not snubbed him. "I am
+honoured--I won't say flattered, for I'm too much in earnest--that you
+should place any confidence in me."
+
+I lay there behind the lounge and sneered at this speech of his. Of
+course, I said to myself, he would be ready to do anything to please the
+Foreign Secretary, since all the big plums his ambition craved were in
+the gift of that man.
+
+"Frankly, I'm in a difficulty, and it has occurred to me that you can
+help me out of it better than anyone else I know," said the smooth,
+trained voice. "It is a little diplomatic errand you will have to
+undertake for me tomorrow, if you want to do me a good turn."
+
+"I will undertake it with great pleasure, and carry it through to the
+best of my ability," replied Ivor.
+
+"I'm sure you can carry it through excellently," said the Foreign
+Secretary, still fencing. "It will be good practice, if you succeed,
+for--any future duties in the career which may be opening to you."
+
+"He's bribing him with that consulship," I thought, beginning to be very
+curious indeed as to what I might be going to hear. My heart wasn't
+beating so thickly now. I could think almost calmly again.
+
+"I thank you for your trust in me," said Ivor.
+
+"A little diplomatic errand," repeated the Foreign Secretary. "In itself
+the thing is not much: that is, on the face of it. And yet, in its
+relation with other interests, it becomes a mission of vast importance,
+incalculable importance. When I have explained, you will see why I apply
+to you. Indeed, I came to my cousin Mountstuart's house expressly
+because I was told you would be at his wife's ball. My regret is, that
+the news which brought me in search of you didn't reach me earlier, for
+if it had I should have come with my wife, and have got at you in time
+to send you off--if you agreed to go--to-night. As it is, the matter
+will have to rest till to-morrow morning. It's too late for you to catch
+the midnight boat across the Channel."
+
+"Across the Channel?" echoed Ivor. "You want me to go to France?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"One could always get across somehow," said Ivor, thoughtfully, "if
+there were a great hurry."
+
+"There is--the greatest. But in this case, the more haste, the less
+speed. That is, if you were to rush off, order a special train, and
+charter a tug or motor boat at Dover, as I suppose you mean, my object
+would probably be defeated. I came to you because those who are watching
+this business wouldn't be likely to guess I had given you a hand in it.
+All that you do, however, must be done quietly, with no fuss, no sign of
+anything unusual going on. It was natural I should come to a ball given
+by my wife's sister, whose husband is my cousin. No one knows of this
+interview of ours: I believe I may make my mind easy on that score, at
+least. And it is equally natural that you should start on business or
+pleasure of your own, for Paris to-morrow morning; also that you should
+meet Mademoiselle de Renzie there."
+
+"Mademoiselle de Renzie!" exclaimed Ivor, off his guard for an instant,
+and showing plainly that he was taken aback.
+
+"Isn't she a friend of yours?" asked the Foreign Secretary rather
+sharply. Though I couldn't see him, I knew exactly how he would be
+looking at Ivor, his keen grey eyes narrowed, his clean-shaven lips
+drawn in, the long, well-shaped hand, of which he is said to be vain,
+toying with the pale Malmaison pink he always wears in his buttonhole.
+
+"Yes, she is a friend of mine," Ivor answered. "But--"
+
+"A 'but' already! Perhaps I'd better tell you that the mission has to do
+with Mademoiselle de Renzie, and, directly, with no one else. She has
+acted as my agent in Paris."
+
+"Indeed! I didn't dream that she dabbled in politics."
+
+"And you should not dream it from any word of mine, Mr. Dundas, if it
+weren't necessary to be entirely open with you, if you are to help me in
+this matter. But before we go any further, I must know whether
+Mademoiselle de Renzie's connection with this business will for any
+reason keep you out of it."
+
+"Not if--you need my help," said Ivor, with an effort. "And I beg you
+won't suppose that my hesitation has anything to do with Miss de Renzie
+herself. I have for her the greatest respect and admiration."
+
+"We all have," returned the Foreign Secretary, "especially those who
+know her best. Among her many virtues, she's one of the few women who
+can keep a secret--her own and others. She is a magnificent actress--on
+the stage and off. And now I have your promise to help me, I must tell
+you it's to help her as well: therefore I owe you the whole truth, or
+you will be handicapped. For several years Mademoiselle de Renzie has
+done good service--secret service, you must understand--for Great
+Britain."
+
+"By Jove! Maxine a political spy!" Ivor broke out impulsively.
+
+"That's rather a hard name, isn't it? There are better ones. And she's
+no traitor to her country, because, as you perhaps know, she's Polish by
+birth. I can assure you we've much for which to thank her cleverness and
+tact--and beauty. For our sakes I'm sorry that she's serving our
+interests professionally for the last time. For her own sake, I ought to
+rejoice, as she's engaged to be married. And if you can save her from
+coming to grief over this very ticklish business, she'll probably live
+happily ever after. Did you know of her engagement?"
+
+"No," replied Ivor. "I saw Miss de Renzie often when she was acting in
+London a year ago; but after she went to Paris--of course, she's very
+busy and has crowds of friends; and I've only crossed once or twice
+since, on hurried visits; so we haven't met, or written to each other."
+
+("Very good reason," I thought bitterly, behind my sofa. "You've been
+busy, too--falling in love with Diana Forrest.")
+
+"It hasn't been announced yet, but I thought as an old friend you might
+have been told. I believe Mademoiselle wants to surprise everybody when
+the right time comes--if the poor girl isn't ruined irretrievably in
+this affair of ours."
+
+"Is there really serious danger of that?" "The most serious. If you
+can't save her, not only will the _Entente Cordiale_ be shaken to its
+foundations (and I say nothing of my own reputation, which is at stake),
+but her future happiness will be broken in the crash, and--she says--she
+will not live to suffer the agony of her loss. She will kill herself if
+disaster comes; and though suicide is usually the last resource of a
+coward, Mademoiselle de Renzie is no coward, and I'm inclined to think I
+should come to the same resolve in her place."
+
+"Tell me what I am to do," said Ivor, evidently moved by the Foreign
+Secretary's strange words, and his intense earnestness.
+
+"You will go to Paris by the first train to-morrow morning, without
+mentioning your intention to anyone; you will drive at once to some
+hotel where you have never stayed and are not known. I will find means
+of informing the lady what hotel you choose. You will there give a
+fictitious name (let us say, George Sandford) and you will take a suite,
+with a private sitting-room. That done, you will say that you are
+expecting a lady to call upon you, and will see no one else. You will
+wait till Mademoiselle de Renzie appears, which will certainly be as
+soon as she can possibly manage; and when you and she are alone
+together, sure that you're not being spied upon, you will put into her
+hands a small packet which I shall give you before we part to-night."
+
+"It sounds simple enough," said Ivor, "if that's all."
+
+"It is all. Yet it may be anything but simple."
+
+"Would you prefer to have me call at her house, and save her coming to a
+hotel? I'd willingly do so if--"
+
+"No. As I told you, should it be known that you and she meet, those who
+are watching her at present ought not to suspect the real motive of the
+meeting. So much the better for us: but we must think of her. After four
+o'clock every afternoon, the young Frenchman she's engaged to is in the
+habit of going to her house, and stopping until it's time for her to go
+to work. He dines with her, but doesn't drive with her to the theatre,
+as that would be rather too public for the present, until their
+engagement's announced. He adores her, but is inconveniently jealous,
+like most Latins. It's practically certain that he's heard your name
+mentioned in connection with hers, when she was in London, and as a
+Frenchman invariably fails to understand that a man can admire a
+beautiful woman without being in love with her, your call at her house
+might give Mademoiselle Maxine a _mauvais quart d'heure_."
+
+"I see. But if she sends him away, and comes to my hotel--"
+
+"She'll probably make some excuse about being obliged to go to the
+theatre early, and thus get rid of him. She's quite clever enough to
+manage that. Then, as your own name won't appear on any hotel list in
+the papers next day, the most jealous heart need have no cause for
+suspicion. At the same time, if certain persons whom Mademoiselle--and
+we, too--have to fear, do find out that she has visited Ivor Dundas, who
+has assumed a false name for the pleasure of a private interview with
+her, interests of even deeper importance than the most desperate love
+affair may still, we'll hope, be guarded by the pretext of your old
+friendship. Now, you understand thoroughly?"
+
+"I think so," replied Ivor, very grave and troubled, I knew by the
+change in his manner, out of which all the gaiety had been slowly
+drained. "I will do my very best."
+
+"If you are sacrificing any important engagements of your own for the
+next two days, you won't suffer for it in the end," remarked the Foreign
+Secretary meaningly.
+
+No doubt Ivor saw the consulship at Algiers dancing before his eyes,
+bound up with an engagement to Di, just as a slice of rich plum cake and
+white bride cake are tied together with bows of satin ribbons sometimes,
+in America. I didn't want him to have the consulship, because getting
+that would perhaps mean getting Di, too.
+
+"Thank you," said Ivor.
+
+"And what hotel shall you choose in Paris?" asked the Foreign Secretary.
+"It should be a good one, I don't need to remind you, where Mademoiselle
+de Renzie could go without danger of compromising herself, in case she
+should be recognised in spite of the veil she's pretty certain to wear.
+Yet it shouldn't be in too central a situation."
+
+"Shall it be the Élysèe Palace?" asked Ivor.
+
+"That will do very well," replied the other, after reflecting for an
+instant. And I could have clapped my hands, in what Ivor would call my
+"impish joy," when it was settled; for the Élysèe Palace is where Lord
+and Lady Mountstuart stop when they visit Paris, and they'd been talking
+of running over next day with Lord Robert West, to look at a wonderful
+new motor car for sale there--one that a Rajah had ordered to be made
+for him, but died before it was finished. Lady Mountstuart always has
+one new fad every six months at least, and her latest is to drive a
+motor car herself. Lord Robert is a great expert--can make a motor, I
+believe, or take it to pieces and put it together again; and he'd been
+insisting for days that she would be able to drive this Rajah car. She'd
+promised, that if not too tired she'd cross to Paris the day after the
+ball, taking the afternoon train, via Boulogne, as she wouldn't be equal
+to an early start. Now, I thought, how splendid it would be if she
+should see Maxine at the hotel with Ivor!
+
+The Foreign Secretary was advising Ivor to wire the Élysèe Palace for
+rooms without any delay, as there must be no hitch about his meeting
+Maxine, once it was arranged for her to go there. "Any misunderstanding
+would be fatal," he went on, as solemnly as if the safety of Maxine's
+head depended upon Ivor's trip. "I only wish I could have got you off
+to-night; and in that case you might have gone to her own house, early
+in the morning. She is in a frightful state of mind, poor girl. But it
+was only to-day that the contents of the packet reached me, and was
+shown to the Prime Minister. Then, it was just before I hurried round
+here to see you that I received a cypher telegram from her, warning me
+that Count Godensky--of whom you've probably heard--an attaché of the
+Russian embassy in Paris, somehow has come to suspect a--er--a game in
+high politics which she and I have been playing; her last, according to
+present intentions, as I told you. I have an idea that this man, who's
+well known in Paris society, proposed to Mademoiselle de Renzie, refused
+to take no for an answer, and bored her until she perhaps was goaded
+into giving him a severe snub. Godensky is a vain man, and wouldn't
+forgive a snub, especially if it had got talked about. He'd be a bad
+enemy: and Mademoiselle seems to think that he is a very bitter and
+determined enemy. Apparently she doesn't know how much he has found out,
+or whether he has actually found out anything at all, or merely guesses,
+and 'bluffs.' But one thing is unfortunately certain, I believe. Every
+boat and every train between London and Paris will be watched more
+closely than usual for the next day or two. Any known or suspected agent
+wouldn't get through unchallenged. But I can see no reason why you
+should not."
+
+"Nor I," answered Ivor, laughing a little. "I think I could make some
+trouble for anyone who tried to stop me."
+
+"Caution above all! Remember you're in training for a diplomatic career,
+what? If you should lose the packet I'm going to give you, I prophesy
+that in twenty-four hours the world would be empty of Maxine de Renzie:
+for the circumstances surrounding her in this transaction are peculiar,
+the most peculiar I've ever been entangled in, perhaps, in rather a
+varied experience; and they intimately concern her fiancé, the Vicomte
+Raoul du Laurier--"
+
+"Raoul du Laurier!" exclaimed Ivor. "So she's engaged to marry him!"
+
+"Yes. Do you know him?"
+
+"I have friends who do. He's in the French Foreign Office, though they
+say he's more at home in the hunting field, or writing plays--"
+
+"Which don't get produced. Quite so. But they will get produced some
+day, for I believe he's an extremely clever fellow in his way--in
+everything except the diplomatic 'trade' which his father would have him
+take up, and got him into, through Heaven knows what influence. No; Du
+Laurier's no fool, and is said to be a fine sportsman, as well as almost
+absurdly good-looking. Mademoiselle Maxine has plenty of excuse for her
+infatuation--for I assure you it's nothing less. She'd jump into the
+fire for this young man, and grill with a Joan of Arc smile on her
+face."
+
+This would have been pleasant hearing for Ivor, if he'd ever been really
+in love with Maxine; but I was obliged to admit to myself that he
+hadn't, for he didn't seem to care in the least. On the contrary, he
+grew a little more cheerful.
+
+"I can see that du Laurier's being in the French Foreign Office might
+make it rather awkward for Miss de Renzie if she--if she's been rather
+too helpful to us," he said.
+
+"Exactly. And thereby hangs a tale--a sensational and even romantic tale
+almost complicated enough for the plot of a novel. When you meet
+Mademoiselle to-morrow afternoon or evening, if she cares to take you
+into her confidence, in reward for your services, in regard to some
+private interests of her own which have got themselves wildly mixed up
+with the gravest political matters, she's at liberty to do so as far as
+I'm concerned, for you are to be trusted, and deserve to be trusted. You
+may say that to her from me, if the occasion arises. I hope with all my
+heart that everything may go smoothly. If not--the _Entente Cordiale_
+may burst like a bomb. I--who have made myself responsible in the
+matter, with the clear understanding that England will deny me if the
+scheme's a failure--shall be shattered by a flying fragment. The
+favourite actress of Paris will be asphyxiated by the poisonous fumes;
+and you, though I hope no worse harm may come to you, will mourn for the
+misfortunes of others. Your responsibility will be such that it will be
+almost as if you carried the destructive bomb itself, until you get the
+packet into the hands of Maxine de Renzie." "Good heavens, I shall be
+glad when she has it!" said Ivor.
+
+"You can't be gladder than she--or I. And here it is," replied the
+Foreign Secretary. "I consider it great luck to have found such a
+messenger, at a house I could enter without being suspected of any
+motive more subtle than a wish to eat a good supper, or to meet some of
+the prettiest women in London."
+
+I would have given a great deal to see what he was giving Ivor to take
+to Maxine, and I was half tempted to lift myself up and peep at the two
+from behind the lounge, but I could tell from their voices that they
+were standing quite near, and it would have been too dangerous. The
+Foreign Secretary, who is rather a nervous man, and fastidious about a
+woman's looks, never could bear me: and I believe he would have thought
+it almost as justifiable as drowning an ugly kitten, to choke me if he
+knew I'd overheard his secrets.
+
+However, Ivor's next words gave me some inkling of what I wished to
+know. "It's importance evidently doesn't consist in bulk," he said
+lightly. "I can easily carry the case in my breast pocket."
+
+"Pray put it there at once, and guard it as you would guard the life and
+honour of a woman," said the Foreign Secretary solemnly. "Now, I, must
+go and look for my wife. It's better that you and I shouldn't be seen
+together. One never knows who may have got in among the guests at a
+crush like this. I will go out at one door, and when you've waited for a
+few minutes, you can go, by way of another."
+
+A moment later there was silence in the room, and I knew that Ivor was
+alone. What if I spoke, and startled him? All that is impish in me
+longed to see how his face would look; but there was too much at stake.
+Not only would I hate to have him scorn me for an eavesdropper, but I
+had already built up a great plan for the use I could make of what I had
+overheard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+LISA MAKES MISCHIEF
+
+When Ivor was safely out of the room, my first thought was to escape
+from behind the lounge, and get upstairs to my own quarters. But just as
+I had sat up, very cramped and wretched, with one foot and one arm
+asleep, Lord Mountstuart came in again, and down I had to duck.
+
+He had brought a friend, who was as mad about old books and first
+editions, as he; a stuffy, elderly thing, who had never seen Lord
+Mountstuart's treasures before. As both were perfectly daft on the
+subject, they must have kept me lying there an hour, while they fussed
+about from one glass-protected book-case to another, murmuring
+admiration of Caxtons, or discussing the value of a Mazarin Bible, with
+their noses in a lot of old volumes which ought to have been eaten up by
+moths long ago. As for me, I should have been delighted to set fire to
+the whole lot.
+
+At last Lord Mountstuart (whom I've nicknamed "Stewey") remembered that
+there was a ball going on, and that he was the host. So he and the other
+duffer pottered away, leaving the coast clear and the door wide open. It
+was just my luck (which is always bad and always has been) that a pair
+of flirting idiots, for whom the conservatory, or our "den," or the
+stairs, wasn't secluded enough, must needs be prying about and spy that
+open door before I had conquered my cramps and got up from behind the
+sofa.
+
+The dim light commended itself to their silliness, and after hesitating
+a minute, the girl--whoever she was--allowed herself to be drawn into a
+room where she had no business to be. Then, to make bad worse, they
+selected the lounge to sit upon, and I had to lie closely wedged against
+the wall, with "pins and needles" pricking all over my cramped body,
+while some man I didn't know proposed and was accepted by some girl I
+shall probably never see.
+
+They continued to sit, making a tremendous fuss about each other, until
+voices were "heard off," as they say in the directions for theatricals,
+whereupon they sprang up and hurried out like "guilty things upon a
+fearful summons."
+
+By that time I was more dead than alive, but I did manage to crawl out
+of my prison, and creep up to my room by a back stairway which the
+servants use. But it was very late now, and people were going, even the
+young ones who love dancing. As soon as I was able, I scuttled out of my
+ball dress and into a dressing gown. Also I undid my hair, which is my
+one beauty, and let it hang over my shoulders, streaming down in front
+on each side, so that nobody would know one shoulder is higher than the
+other. It wasn't that I was particularly anxious to appear well before
+Di (though I have enough vanity not to like the contrast between us to
+seem too great, even when she and I are alone), but because I wanted her
+to think, when she came to my room, that I'd been there a long time.
+
+I was sure she would come and peep in at the door, to steal away if she
+found me asleep, or to enquire how I felt if I were awake.
+
+By and by the handle of the door moved softly, just as I had expected,
+and seeing a light, Di came in. It was late, and she had danced all
+night, but instead of looking tired she was radiant. When she spoke, her
+voice was as gay and happy as Ivor's had been when he first came into
+Lord Mountstuart's study with the Foreign Secretary.
+
+I said that I was much better, and had had a nice rest; that if I hadn't
+wanted to hear how everything had gone at the ball, I should have been
+in bed and asleep long ago.
+
+"Everything went very well," said she. "I think it was a great success."
+
+"Did you dance every dance?" I asked, working up slowly to what I meant
+to say.
+
+"Except a few that I sat out."
+
+"I can guess who sat them out with you," said I. "Ivor Dundas. And one
+was number thirteen, wasn't it?"
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+"He told me he was going to have thirteen with you. Oh, you needn't try
+to hide anything from me. He tells most things to his 'Imp.' Was he nice
+when he proposed?"
+
+"He didn't propose."
+
+"I'll give you the sapphire bracelet Lady Mountstuart gave me, if he
+didn't tell you he loved you, and ask if there'd be a chance for him in
+case he got Algiers."
+
+"I wouldn't take your bracelet even if--if--. But you're a little
+witch, Lisa."
+
+"Of course I am!" I exclaimed, smiling, though I had a sickening wrench
+of the heart. "And I suppose you forgot all his faults and failings, and
+said he could have you, Algiers or no Algiers."
+
+"I don't believe he has all those faults and failings you were talking
+about this evening," said Di, with her cheeks very pink. "He may have
+flirted a little at one time. Women have spoiled him a lot. But--but he
+_does_ love me, Lisa."
+
+"And he did love Maxine!" I laughed.
+
+"He didn't. He never loved her. I--you see, you put such horrid thoughts
+into my head that--that I just mentioned her name when he said
+to-night--oh, when he said the usual things, about never having cared
+seriously for anyone until he saw me. Only--it seems treacherous to call
+them '_usual_' because--when you love a man you feel that the things he
+says can never have been said before, in the same way, by any other man
+to any other woman."
+
+"Only perhaps by the same man to another woman," I mocked at her, trying
+to act as if I were teasing in fun.
+
+"Lisa, you _can_ be hateful sometimes!" she cried.
+
+"It's only for your good, if I'm hateful now," I said. "I don't want to
+have you disappointed, when it's too late. I want you to keep your eyes
+open, and see exactly where you're going. It's the truest thing ever
+said that 'love is blind.' You can't deny that you're in love with Ivor
+Dundas."
+
+"I don't deny it," she answered, with a proud air which would, I
+suppose, have made Ivor want to kiss her.
+
+"And you didn't deny it to him?"
+
+"No, I didn't. But thanks to you, I put him upon a kind of probation. I
+wish I hadn't, now. I wish I'd shown that I trusted him entirely. I know
+he deserves to be trusted; and to-morrow I shall tell him--"
+
+"I don't think I should commit myself any further till day after
+to-morrow," said I drily. "Indeed, you couldn't if you wanted to, unless
+you wrote or wired. You won't see him to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, I shall," she contradicted me, opening those big hazel eyes of
+hers, that looked positively black with excitement. "He's going to the
+Duchess of Glasgow's bazaar, because I said I should most likely be
+there: and I will go--"
+
+"But he won't."
+
+"How can you know anything about it?"
+
+"I do know, everything. And I'll tell you what I know, if you'll promise
+me two things."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"That you won't ask me how I found out, and that you'll swear never to
+give me away to anybody."
+
+"Of course I wouldn't 'give you away,' as you call it. But--I'm not sure
+I want you to tell me. I have faith in Ivor. I'd rather not hear stories
+behind his back."
+
+"Oh, very well, then, go to the Duchess's to-morrow," I snapped, "and
+wear your prettiest frock to please Ivor, when just about that time
+he'll be arriving in Paris to keep a very particular engagement with
+Maxine de Renzie."
+
+Di grew suddenly pale, and her eyes looked violet instead of black. "I
+don't believe he's going to Paris!" she exclaimed.
+
+"I know he's going. And I know he's going especially to see Maxine."
+
+"It can't be. He told me to-night he wouldn't cross the street to see
+her. I--I made it a condition--that if he found he cared enough for her
+to want to see her again, he must go, of course: but he must give up all
+thought of me. If I'm to reign, I must reign alone."
+
+"Well, then, on thinking it over, he probably did find that he wanted to
+see her."
+
+"No. For he loved me just as much when we parted, only half an hour
+ago."
+
+"Yet at least two hours ago he'd arranged a meeting with Maxine for
+to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"You're dreaming."
+
+"I was never wider awake: or if I'm dreaming, you can dream the same
+dream if you'll be at Victoria Station to-morrow, or rather this
+morning, when the boat train goes out at 10 o'clock."
+
+"I will be there!" cried Di, changing from red to white. "And you shall
+be with me, to see that you're wrong. I know you will be wrong."
+
+"That's an engagement," said I. "At 10 o'clock, Victoria Station, just
+you and I, and nobody else in the house the wiser. If I'm right, and
+Ivor's there, shall you think it wise to give him up?"
+
+"He might be obliged to go to Paris, suddenly, for some business reason,
+without meaning to call on Maxine de Renzie--in which case he'd probably
+write me. But--at the station, I shall ask him straight out--that is, if
+he's there, as I'm sure he won't be--whether he intends to see
+Mademoiselle de Renzie. If he says no, I'll believe him. If he says
+yes--"
+
+"You'll tell him all is over between you?"
+
+"He'd know that without my telling, after our talk last night."
+
+"And whatever happens, you will say nothing about having heard Maxine's
+name from me?"
+
+"Nothing," Di answered. And I knew she would keep her word.
+
+
+
+
+IVOR DUNDAS' POINT OF VIEW
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+IVOR TRAVELS TO PARIS
+
+It is rather a startling sensation for a man to be caught suddenly by
+the nape of the neck, so to speak, and pitched out of heaven down
+to--the other place.
+
+But that was what happened to me when I arrived at Victoria Station, on
+my way to Paris.
+
+I had taken my ticket and hurried on to the platform without too much
+time to spare (I'd been warned not to risk observation by being too
+early) when I came face to face with the girl whom, at any other time, I
+should have liked best to meet: whom at that particular time I least
+wished to meet: Diana Forrest.
+
+"The Imp"--Lisa Drummond--was with her: but I saw only Di at first--Di,
+looking a little pale and harassed, but beautiful as always. Only last
+night I had told her that Paris had no attractions for me. I had said
+that I didn't care to see Maxine de Renzie: yet here I was on the way to
+see her, and here was Di discovering me in the act of going to see, her.
+
+Of course I could lie; and I suppose some men, even men of honour, would
+think it justifiable as well as wise to lie in such a case, when
+explanations were forbidden. But I couldn't lie to a girl I loved as I
+love Diana Forrest. It would have sickened me with life and with myself
+to do it: and it was with the knowledge in my mind that I could not and
+would not lie, that I had to greet her with a conventional "Good
+morning."
+
+"Are you going out of town?" I asked, with my hat off for her and for
+the Imp, whose strange little weazened face I now saw looking over my
+tall love's shoulders. It had never before struck me that the Imp was
+like a cat; but suddenly the resemblance struck me--something in the
+poor little creature's expression, it must have been, or in her greenish
+grey eyes which seemed at that moment to concentrate all the knowledge
+of old and evil things that has ever come into the world since the days
+of the early Egyptians--when a cat was worshipped.
+
+"No, I'm not going out of town," Di answered. "I came here to meet you,
+in case you should be leaving by this train, and I brought Lisa with
+me."
+
+"Who told you I was leaving?" I asked, hoping for a second or two that
+the Foreign Secretary had confided to her something of his
+secret--guessing ours, perhaps, and that my unexpected, inexplicable
+absence might injure me with her.
+
+"I can't tell you," she answered. "I didn't believe you would go; even
+though I got your letter by the eight o'clock post this morning."
+
+"I'm glad you got that," I said. "I posted it soon after I left you last
+night."
+
+"Why didn't you tell me when we were bidding each other good-bye, that
+you wouldn't be able to see me this afternoon, instead of waiting to
+write?"
+
+"Frankly and honestly," I said (for I had to say it), "just at the
+moment, and only for the moment, I forgot about the Duchess of Glasgow's
+bazaar. That was because, after I decided to drop in at the bazaar,
+something happened which made it impossible for me to go. In my letter I
+begged you to let me see you to-morrow instead; and now I beg it again.
+Do say 'yes.'"
+
+"I'll say yes on one condition--and gladly," she replied, with an odd,
+pale little smile, "that you tell me where you're going this morning. I
+know it must seem horrid in me to ask, but--but--oh, Ivor, it _isn't_
+horrid, really. You wouldn't think it horrid if you could understand."
+
+"I'm going to Paris," I answered, beginning to feel as if I had a cold
+potato where my heart ought to be. "I am obliged to go, on business."
+
+"You didn't say anything about Paris in your letter this morning, when
+you told me you couldn't come to the Duchess's," said Di, looking like a
+beautiful, unhappy child, her eyes big and appealing, her mouth proud.
+"You only mentioned 'an urgent engagement which you'd forgotten.'"
+
+"I thought that would be enough to explain, in a hurry," I told her,
+lamely.
+
+"So it was--so it would have been," she faltered, "if it hadn't been
+for--what we said last night about--Paris. And then--I can't explain to
+you, Ivor, any more than it seems you can to me. But I did hear you
+meant to go there, and--after our talk, I couldn't believe it. I didn't
+come to the station to find you; I came because I was perfectly sure I
+wouldn't find you, and wanted to prove that I hadn't found you.
+Yet--you're here."
+
+"And, though I am here, you will trust me just the same," I said, as
+firmly as I could.
+
+"Of course. I'll trust you, if--"
+
+"If what?"
+
+"If you'll tell me just one little, tiny thing: that you're not going to
+see Maxine de Renzie."
+
+"I may see her," I admitted.
+
+"But--but at least, you're not going on purpose?"
+
+This drove me into a corner. Without being disloyal to the Foreign
+Secretary, I could not deny all personal desire to meet Maxine. Yet to
+what suspicion was I not laying myself open in confessing that I
+deliberately intended to see her, having sworn by all things a man does
+swear by when he wishes to please a girl, that I didn't wish to see
+Maxine, and would not see Maxine?
+
+"You said you'd trust me, Di," I reminded her. "For Heaven's sake don't
+break that promise."
+
+"But--if you're breaking a promise to me?"
+
+"A promise?"
+
+"Worse, then! Because I didn't ask you to promise. I had too much faith
+in you for that. I believed you when you said you didn't care
+for--anyone but me. I've told Lisa. It doesn't matter our speaking like
+this before her. I asked you to wait for my promise for a little while,
+until I could be quite sure you didn't think of Miss de Renzie as--some
+people fancied you did. If you wanted to see her, I said you must go,
+and you laughed at the idea. Yet the very next morning, by the first
+train, you start."
+
+"Only because I am obliged to," I hazarded in spite of the Foreign
+Secretary and his precautions. But I was punished for my lack of them by
+making matters worse instead of better for myself.
+
+"Obliged to!" she echoed. "Then there's something you must settle with
+her, before you can be--free."
+
+The guard was shutting the carriage doors. In another minute I should
+lose the train. And I must not lose the train. For her future and mine,
+as well as Maxine's, I must not.
+
+"Dearest," I said hurriedly, "I am free. There's no question of freedom.
+Yet I shall have to go. I hold you to your word. Trust me."
+
+"Not if you go to her--this day of all days." The words were wrung from
+the poor child's lips, I could see, by sheer anguish, and it was like
+death to me that I should have to cause her this anguish, instead of
+soothing it.
+
+"You shall. You must," I commanded, rather than implored. "Good-bye,
+darling--precious one. I shall think of you every instant, and I shall
+come back to you to-morrow."
+
+"You needn't. You need never come to me again," she said, white lipped.
+And the guard whistled, waving his green flag.
+
+"Don't dare to say such a cruel thing--a thing you don't mean!" I cried,
+catching at the closed door of a first-class compartment. As I did so, a
+little man inside jumped to the window and shouted, "Reserved! Don't you
+see it's reserved?" which explained the fact that the door seemed to be
+fastened.
+
+I stepped back, my eyes falling on the label to which the man pointed,
+and would have tried the handle of the next carriage, had not two men
+rushed at the door as the train began to move, and dexterously opened it
+with a railway key. Their throwing themselves thus in my way would have
+lost me my last chance of catching the moving train, had I not dashed in
+after them. If I could choose, I would be the last man to obtrude myself
+where I was not wanted, but there was no time to choose; and I was
+thankful to get in anywhere, rather than break my word. Besides, my
+heart was too sore at leaving Diana as I had had to leave her, to care
+much for anything else. I had just sense enough to fight my way in,
+though the two men with the key (not the one who had occupied the
+compartment first), now yelled that it was reserved, and would have
+pushed me out if I hadn't been too strong for them. I had a dim
+impression that, instead of joining with the newcomers, the first man,
+who would have kept the place to himself before their entrance, seemed
+willing to aid me against the others. They being once foisted upon him,
+he appeared to wish for my presence too, or else he merely desired to
+prevent me from being dashed onto the platform and perhaps killed, for
+he thrust out a hand and tried to pull me in.
+
+At the same time a guard came along, protesting against the unseemly
+struggle, and the carriage door was slammed shut upon us all four.
+
+When I got my balance, and was able to look out, the train had gone so
+far that Diana and Lisa had been swept away from my sight. It was like a
+bad omen; and the fear was cold upon me that I had lost my love for
+ever.
+
+At that moment I suffered so atrociously that if it had not been too
+late, I fear I should have sacrificed Maxine and the Foreign Secretary
+and even the _Entente Cordiale_ (provided he had not been exaggerating)
+for Di's sake, and love's sake. But there was no going back now, even if
+I would. The train was already travelling almost at full speed, and
+there was nothing to do but resign myself to the inevitable, and hope
+for the best. Someone, it was clear, had tried to work mischief between
+Diana and me, and there were only too many chances that he had
+succeeded. Could it be Bob West, I asked myself, as I half-dazedly
+looked for a place to sit down among the litter of small luggage with
+which the first occupant of the carriage had strewn every seat. I knew
+that Bob was as much in love with Di as a man of his rather
+unintellectual, unimaginative type could be, and he hadn't shown himself
+as friendly lately to me as he once had: still, I didn't think he was
+the sort of fellow to trip up a rival in the race by a trick, even if he
+could possibly have found out that I was going to Paris this morning.
+
+"Won't you sit here, sir?" a voice broke into my thoughts, and I saw
+that the little man had cleared a place for me next his own, which was
+in a corner facing the engine. Thanking him absent-mindedly, I sat down,
+and began to observe my travelling companions for the first time.
+
+So far, their faces had been mere blurs for me: but now it struck me
+that all three were rather peculiar; that is, peculiar when seen in a
+first-class carriage.
+
+The man who had reserved the compartment for himself, and who had
+removed a bundle of golf sticks from the seat to make room for me, did
+not look like a typical golfer, nor did he appear at all the sort of
+person who might be expected to reserve a whole compartment for himself.
+He was small and thin, and weedy, with little blinking, pink-rimmed eyes
+of the kind which ought to have had white lashes instead of the sparse,
+jet black ones that rimmed them. His forehead, though narrow, suggested
+shrewdness, as did the expression of those light coloured eyes of his,
+which were set close to the sharp, slightly up-turned nose. His hair was
+so black that it made his skin seem singularly pallid, though it was
+only sallow; and a mean, rabbit mouth worked nervously over two
+prominent teeth. Though his clothes were good, and new, they had the air
+of having been bought ready made; and in spite of his would-be "smart"
+get up, the man (who might have been anywhere between thirty and
+thirty-eight) looked somewhat like an ex-groom, or bookmaker,
+masquerading as a "swell."
+
+The two intruders who had violated the sanctity of the reserved
+compartment by means of their railway key were both bigger and more
+manly than he who had a right to it. One was dark, and probably Jewish,
+with a heavy beard and moustache, in the midst of which his sensual and
+cruel mouth pouted disagreeably red. The other was puffy and flushed,
+with a brick-coloured complexion deeply pitted by smallpox. They also
+were flashily dressed with "horsey" neckties and conspicuous scarf-pins.
+As I glanced at the pair, they were talking together in a low voice,
+with an open newspaper held up between them; but the man who had helped
+me in against their will sat silent, staring out of the window and
+uneasily fingering his collar. Not one of the trio was, apparently,
+paying the slightest attention to me, now that I was seated;
+nevertheless I thought of the large, long letter-case which I carried in
+an inner breast pocket of my carefully buttoned coat. I would not
+attract attention to the contents of that pocket by touching it, to
+assure myself that it was safe, but I had done so just before meeting
+Di, and I felt certain that nothing could have happened to it since.
+
+I folded my arms across my chest, glanced up to see where the cord of
+communication might be found in case of emergency; and then reflected
+that these men were not likely to be dangerous, since I had followed
+them into the compartment, not they me. This thought was reassuring, as
+they were three to one if they combined against me, and the train was,
+unfortunately, not entirely a corridor train. Therefore, having assured
+myself that I was not among spies bent on having my life or the secret I
+carried, I forgot about my fellow-travellers, and fell into gloomy
+speculations as to my chances with Diana. I had been loving her,
+thinking of little else but her and my hopes of her, for many months
+now; but never had I realised what a miserable, empty world it would be
+for me without Di for my own, as I did now, when I had perhaps lost her.
+
+Not that I would allow myself to think that I could not get her back. I
+would not think it. I would force her to believe in me, to trust me,
+even to repent her suspicions, though appearances were all against me,
+and Heaven knew how much or when I might be permitted to explain. I
+would not be a man if I took her at her word, and let her slip from me,
+no matter how many times that word were repeated; so I told myself over
+and over. Yet a voice inside me seemed to say that nothing could be as
+it had been; that I'd sacrificed my happiness to please a stranger, and
+to save a woman whom I had never really loved.
+
+Di was so beautiful, so sweet, so used to being admired by men; there
+were so many who loved her, so many with a thousand times more to offer
+than I had or would ever have: how could I hope that she would go on
+caring for me, after what had happened to-day? I wondered. She hadn't
+said in actual words last night that she would marry me, whereas this
+morning she had almost said she never would. I should have nobody to
+blame but myself if I came back to London to-morrow to find her engaged
+to Lord Robert West--a man who, as his brother has no children, might
+some day make her a Duchess.
+
+"Sorry to have seemed rude just now, sir," said one of the two
+railway-key men, suddenly reminding me of his unnecessary existence.
+"Hardly knew what I was about when I shoved you away from the door. Me
+and my friend was afraid of missing the train, so we pushed--instinct of
+self-preservation, I suppose," and he chuckled as if he had got off some
+witticism. "Anyhow, I apologise. Nothing intentional, 'pon my word."
+
+"Thanks. No apology is necessary," I replied as indifferently as I felt.
+
+"That's all right, then," finished the Jewish-faced man, who had spoken.
+He turned to his companion, and the two resumed their conversation
+behind the newspaper: but I now became conscious that they occasionally
+glanced over the top at their neighbour or at me, as if their whole
+attention were not taken up with the news of the day.
+
+Any interest they might feel in me, provided it had nothing to do with a
+certain pocket, they were welcome to: but the little man was apparently
+not of the same mind concerning himself. His nervously twitching hand on
+the upholstered seat-arm which separated his place from mine attracted
+my attention, which was then drawn up to his face. He was so sickly
+pale, under a kind of yellowish glaze spread over his complexion, that I
+thought he must be ill, perhaps suffering from train sickness, in
+anxious anticipation of the horrors which might be in store for him on
+the boat. Presently he pulled out a red-bordered handkerchief, and
+unobtrusively wiped his forehead, under his checked travelling cap. When
+he had done this, I saw that his hair was left streaked with damp; and
+there was a faint, purplish stain on the handkerchief, observing which
+with evident dismay he stuffed the big square of coarse cambric hastily
+into his pocket.
+
+"The little beast must dye his hair," I thought contemptuously. "Perhaps
+he's an albino, really. His eyes look like it."
+
+With that, he threw a frightened glance at me, which caused me to turn
+away and spare him the humiliation of knowing that he was observed. But
+immediately after, he made an effort to pull himself together, picking
+up a book he had laid down to wipe his forehead and holding it so close
+to his nose that the printed page must have been a mere blur, unless he
+were very near-sighted. Thus he sat for some time; yet I felt that no
+look thrown by the other two was lost on him. He seemed to know each
+time one of them peered over the newspaper; and when at last the train
+slowed down by the Admiralty Pier all his nervousness returned. His
+small, thin hands, freckled on their backs, hovered over one piece of
+luggage after another, as if he could not decide how to pile the things
+together.
+
+Naturally I had not brought my man with me on this errand, therefore I
+had let my suitcase go into the van, that I might have both hands free,
+and I had nothing to do when the train stopped but jump out and make for
+the boat. Nevertheless I lingered, folding up a newspaper, and tearing
+an article out of a magazine by way of excuse; for it was not my object
+to be caught in a crowd and hustled, perhaps, by some clever wretches
+who might be lying in wait for what I had in my pocket. It seemed
+impossible that anyone could have learned that I was playing messenger
+between the British Secretary for Foreign Affairs and Maxine de Renzie:
+still, the danger and difficulty of the apparently simple mission had
+been so strongly impressed on me that I did not intend to neglect any
+precaution.
+
+I lingered therefore; and the Jewish-looking man with his heavy-faced
+friend lingered also, for some reason of their own. They had no luggage,
+except a small handbag each, but these they opened at the last minute to
+stuff in their newspapers, and apparently to review the other contents.
+Presently, when the first rush for the boat was over, and the porters
+who had come to the door of our compartment had gone away empty-handed,
+I would have got out, had I not caught an imploring glance from the
+little man who had reserved the carriage. Perhaps I imagined it, but his
+pink-rimmed eyes seemed to say, "For heaven's sake, don't leave me alone
+with these others."
+
+"Would you be so very kind, sir," he said to me, "to beckon a porter, as
+you are near the door? I find after all that I shan't be able to carry
+everything myself."
+
+I did as he asked; and there was so much confusion in the carriage when
+the porter came, that in self-defence the two friends got out with their
+bags. I also descended and would have followed in the wake of the crowd,
+if the little man had not called after me. He had lost his ticket, he
+said. Would I be so extremely obliging as to throw an eye about the
+platform to see if it had fallen there?
+
+I did oblige him in this manner, without avail; but by this time he had
+found the missing treasure in the folds of his travelling rug; and
+scrambling out of the carriage, attended by the porter I had secured for
+him, he would have walked by my side towards the boat, had I not dropped
+behind a few steps, thinking--as always--of the contents of that inner
+breast pocket.
+
+He and I were now at the tail-end of the procession hastening boatward,
+or almost at the tail, for there were but four or five other
+passengers--a family party with a fat nurse and crying baby--behind us.
+As I approached the gangway, I saw on deck my late travelling
+companions, the Jewish man and his friend, regarding us with interest.
+Then, just as I was about to step on board, almost on the little man's
+heels, there came a cry apparently from someone ahead: "Look
+out--gangway's falling!"
+
+In an instant all was confusion. The fat nurse behind me screamed, as
+the nervous fellow in front leaped like a cat, intent on saving himself
+no matter what happened to anyone else, and flung me against the woman
+with the baby. Two or three excitable Frenchmen just ahead also
+attempted to turn, thus nearly throwing the little man onto his knees.
+The large bag which he carried hit me across the shins; in his terror he
+almost embraced me as he helped himself up: the nurse, as she stumbled,
+pitched forward onto my shoulder, and if I had not seized the howling
+baby, it would certainly have fallen under our feet.
+
+My bowler was knocked over my eyes, and though an officer of the boat
+cried the reassuring intelligence that it was a false alarm--that the
+gangway was "all right," and never had been anything but all right, I
+could not readjust my hat nor see what was going on until the fat nurse
+had obligingly retrieved her charge, without a word of thanks.
+
+My first thought was for the letter-case in my pocket, for I had a
+horrible idea that the scare might have been got up for the express
+purpose of robbing me of it. But I could feel its outline as plainly as
+ever under my coat, and decided, thankfully, that after all the alarm
+had had nothing to do with me.
+
+I had wired for a private cabin, thinking it would be well to be out of
+the way of my fellow-passengers during the crossing: but the weather had
+been rough for a day or two (it was not yet the middle of April) and
+everything was already engaged; therefore I walked the deck most of the
+time, always conscious of the unusual thickness of my breast pocket. The
+little man paced up and down, too, though his yellow face grew slowly
+green, and he would have been much better off below, lying on his back.
+As for the two others, they also remained on deck, talking together as
+they leaned against the rail; but though I passed them now and again, I
+noticed that the little man invariably avoided them by turning before he
+reached their "pitch."
+
+At the Gare du Nord I regretted that I had not carried my own bag,
+because if I had it would have been examined on the boat, and all bother
+would have been over. But rather than run any risks in the crowd
+thronging the _douane_, I decided to let the suitcase look after itself,
+and send down for it with the key from the hotel later. Again the little
+man was close to my side as I went in search of a cab, for all his
+things had been gone through by the custom house officer in mid-channel,
+so that he too was free to depart without delay. He even seemed to cling
+to me, somewhat wistfully, and I half thought he meant to speak, but he
+did not, save for a "good evening, sir," as I separated myself from him
+at last. He had stuck rather too close, elbow to elbow; but I had no
+fear for the letter-case, as he was on the wrong side to play any
+conjurer's tricks with that. The last I saw of the fellow, he was
+walking toward a cab, and looking uneasily over his shoulder at his two
+late travelling companions, who were getting into another vehicle near
+by.
+
+I went straight to the Élysée Palace Hotel, where I had never stopped
+before--a long drive from the Gare du Nord--and claimed the rooms for
+which "Mr. George Sandford" had wired from London. The suite engaged was
+a charming one, and the private salon almost worthy to receive the
+lovely lady I expected. Nor did she keep me waiting. I had had time only
+to give instructions about sending a man with a key to the station for
+my luggage, to say that a lady would call, to reach my rooms, and to
+draw the curtains over the windows, when a knock came at the salon door.
+I was in the act of turning on the electric light when this happened,
+but to my surprise the room remained in darkness--or rather, in a pink
+dusk lent by the colour of the curtains.
+
+"The lady has arrived, Monsieur," announced the servant. "As Monsieur
+expected her, she has come up without waiting; but I regret that
+something has gone wrong with the electricity, all over the hotel. It
+was but just now discovered, at time for turning on the lights,
+otherwise lamps and plenty of candles would have been provided, though
+no doubt the light will fonctionne properly in a few minutes. If
+Monsieur permits, I will instantly bring him a lamp."
+
+"No, thank you," I said hurriedly, for I did not wish to be interrupted
+in the midst of my important interview with Maxine. "If the light comes
+on, it will he all right: if not, I will put back the curtains; and it
+is not yet quite dark. Show the lady in."
+
+Into the pink twilight of the curtained room came Maxine de Renzie,
+whose tall and noble figure I recognised in its plain, close-fitting
+black dress, though her wide brimmed hat was draped with a thickly
+embroidered veil that completely hid her face, while long, graceful lace
+folds fell over and obscured the bright auburn of her hair.
+
+"One moment," I said. "Let me push the curtains back. The electricity
+has failed."
+
+"No, no," she answered. "Better leave them as they are. The lights may
+come on and we be seen from outside. Why,"--as she drew nearer to me,
+and the servant closed the door, "I thought I recognised that voice! It
+is Ivor Dundas."
+
+"No other," said I. "Didn't the--weren't you warned who would be the man
+to come?"
+
+"No," she replied. "Only the assumed name of the messenger and place of
+meeting were wired. It was safer so, even though the telegram was in a
+cypher which I trust nobody knows--except myself and one other. But I'm
+glad--glad it's you. It was clever of--him, to have sent you. No one
+would dream that--no one would think it strange if they knew--as I hope
+they won't--that you came to Paris to see me. Oh, the relief that you've
+got through safely! Nothing has happened? You have--the paper?"
+
+"Nothing has happened, and I have the paper," I reassured her. "No
+adventures, to speak of, on the way, and no reason to think I've been
+spotted. Anyway, here I am; and here is something which will put an end
+to your anxiety." And I tapped the breast of my coat, meaningly.
+
+"Thank God!" breathed Maxine, with a thrilling note in her voice which
+would have done her great credit on the stage, though I am sure she was
+never further in her life from the thought of acting. "After all I've
+suffered, it seems too good to be true. Give it to me, quick, Ivor, and
+let me go."
+
+"I will," I said. "But you might seem to take just a little more
+interest in me, even if you don't really feel it, you know. You might
+just say, 'How have you been for the last twelve months?'"
+
+"Oh, I do take an interest, and I'm grateful to you--I can't tell you
+how grateful. But I have no time to think either of you or myself now,"
+she said, eagerly. "If you knew everything, you'd understand."
+
+"I know practically nothing," I confessed; "still, I do understand. I
+was only teasing you. Forgive me. I oughtn't to have done it, even for a
+minute. Here is the letter-case which the Foreign--which was given to me
+to bring to you."
+
+"Wait!" she exclaimed, still in the half whisper from which she had
+never departed. "Wait! It will he better to lock the door." But even as
+she spoke, there came a knock, loud and insistent. With a spring, she
+flung herself on me, her hand fumbling for the pocket I had tapped
+suggestively a moment ago. I let her draw out the long case which I had
+been guarding--the case I had not once touched since leaving London,
+except to feel anxiously for its outline through my buttoned coat. At
+least, whatever might be about to happen, she had it in her own hands
+now.
+
+Neither of us spoke nor made a sound during the instant that she clung
+to me, the faint, well-remembered perfume of her hair, her dress, in my
+nostrils. But as she started away, and I knew that she had the
+letter-case, the knock came again. Then, before I could be sure whether
+she wished for time to hide, or whether she would have me cry "come in,"
+without seeming to hesitate, the door opened. For a second or two Maxine
+and I, and a group of figures at the door were mere shadows in the ever
+deepening pink dusk: but I could scarcely have counted ten before the
+long expected light sprang up. I had turned it on in more than one
+place: and a sudden, brilliant illumination showed me a tall Commissary
+of Police, with two little gendarmes looking over his shoulder.
+
+I threw a glance at Maxine, who was still veiled, and was relieved to
+see that she had found some means of putting the letter-case out of
+sight. Having ascertained this, I sharply enquired in French what in the
+devil's name the Commissary of Police meant by walking into an
+Englishman's room without being invited; and not only that, but what
+under heaven he wanted anyway.
+
+He was far more polite than I was.
+
+"Ten thousand pardons, Monsieur," he apologised. "I knocked twice, but
+hearing no answer, entered, thinking that perhaps, after all, the salon
+was unoccupied. Important business must be my excuse. I have to request
+that Monsieur Dundas will first place in my hands the gift he has
+brought from London to Mademoiselle de Renzie."
+
+"I have brought no gift for Mademoiselle de Renzie," I prevaricated
+boldly; but the man's knowledge of my name was ominous. If the Paris
+police had contrived to learn it already, as well as to find out that I
+was the bearer of something for Maxine, it looked as if they knew enough
+to play the game in their own way--whatever that might be.
+
+"Perhaps I should say, the thing which Mademoiselle lent--to a friend in
+England, and Monsieur has now kindly returned," amended the Commissary
+of Police as politely, as patiently, as ever.
+
+"Really, I don't know what you are talking about," I said, shrugging my
+shoulders and looking bewildered--or hoping that I looked bewildered.
+All the while I was wondering, desperately, if this meant ruin for
+Maxine, or if she would still find some way of saving herself. But all I
+could do for her at the moment was to keep calm, and tell as many lies
+as necessary. I hadn't been able to lie to Diana; but I had no
+compunctions about doing it now, if it were to help Maxine. The worst
+was, that I was far from sure it would help her.
+
+"I trust, Monsieur, that you do not wish to prevent the French police
+from doing their duty," said the officer, his tone becoming peremptory
+for the first time. "Should you attempt it, I should unfortunately be
+compelled to order that Monsieur be searched."
+
+"You seem to forget that you're dealing with a British subject," said I.
+
+"Who is offending against the laws of a friendly country," he capped my
+words. "You can complain afterwards, Monsieur. But now--"
+
+"Why don't you empty your pockets, Mr. Dundas," suggested Maxine,
+lightly, yet contemptuously, "and show them that you've nothing in which
+the police can have any interest? I suppose the next thing they propose,
+will be to search me."
+
+"I deeply regret to say that will be the next thing, Mademoiselle,
+unless satisfaction is given to me," returned the Commissary of Police.
+
+Maxine threw back her thick veil; and if this were the first time these
+men had ever seen the celebrated actress off the stage, it seemed to me
+that her beauty must almost have dazzled them, thus suddenly displayed.
+For Maxine is a gloriously handsome woman, and never had she been most
+striking, more wonderful, than at that moment, when her dark eyes
+laughed out of her white face, and her red lips smiled as if neither
+they, nor the great eyes, had any secret to hide.
+
+"Look at me," she said, throwing back her arms in such a way as to bring
+forward her slender body, in the tight black sheath of the dress which
+was of the fashion which, I think, women call "Princess." It fitted her
+as smoothly as the gloves that covered her arms to the elbows.
+
+"Do you think there is much chance for concealment in this dress?" she
+asked. "I haven't a pocket, you see. No self-respecting woman could
+have, in a gown like this. I don't know in the least what sort of 'gift'
+my old friend is supposed to have brought me. Is it large or small? I'll
+take off my gloves and let you see my rings, if you like, Monsieur le
+Commisaire, for I've been taught, as a servant of the public, to be
+civil to my fellow servants, even if they should be unreasonable. No?
+You don't want to see my rings? Let me oblige you by taking off my hat,
+then. I might have put the thing--whatever it is--in my hair."
+
+As she spoke, she drew out her hatpins, still laughing in a half
+scornful, half good-natured way. She was bewitching as she stood
+smiling, with her black hat and veil in her hand, the ruffled waves of
+her dark red hair shadowing her forehead.
+
+Meanwhile, fired by her example, I turned out the contents of my
+pockets: a letter or two; a flat gold cigarette case; a match box; my
+watch, and a handkerchief: also in an outer pocket of my coat, a small
+bit of crumpled paper of which I had no recollection: but as one of the
+gendarmes politely picked it up from the floor, where it had fallen, and
+handed it to me without examining it, mechanically I slipped it back
+into the pocket, and thought no more of it at the time. There were too
+many other things to think of, and I was wondering what on earth Maxine
+could have done with the letter-case. She had had no more than two
+seconds in which to dispose of it, hardly enough, it seemed to me, to
+pass it from one hand to another, yet apparently it was well hidden.
+
+"Now, are you satisfied?" she asked, "Now that we have both shown you we
+have nothing to conceal; or would you like to take me to the police
+station, and have some dreadful female search me more thoroughly still?
+I'll go with you, if you wish. I won't even he indiscreet enough to ask
+questions, since you seem inclined to do what we've no need to do--keep
+your own secrets. All I stipulate is, that if you care to take such
+measures you'll take them at once, for as you may possibly be aware,
+this is the first night of my new play, and I should be sorry to be
+late."
+
+The Commissary of Police looked fixedly at Maxine for a moment, as if he
+would read her soul.
+
+"No, Mademoiselle," he said, "I am convinced that neither you nor
+Monsieur are concealing anything about your persons. I will not trouble
+you further until we have searched the room."
+
+Maxine could not blanch, for already she was as white as she will be
+when she lies in her coffin. But though her expression did not change, I
+saw that the pupils of her eyes dilated. Actress that she is, she could
+control her muscles; but she could not control the beating of the blood
+in her brain. I felt that she was conscious of this betrayal, under the
+gaze of the policeman, and she laughed to distract his attention. My
+heart ached for her. I thought of a meadow-lark manoeuvering to hide the
+place where her nest lies. Poor, beautiful Maxine! In spite of her
+pride, her high courage, the veneer of hardness which her experience of
+the world had given, she was infinitely pathetic in my eyes; and though
+I had never loved her, though I did love another woman, I would have
+given my life gladly at this minute if I could have saved her from the
+catastrophe she dreaded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+IVOR DOES WHAT HE CAN FOR MAXINE
+
+"How long a time do you think I had been in this room, Monsieur," she
+asked, "before you--rather rudely, I must say--broke in upon my
+conversation with my friend?"
+
+"You had been here exactly three minutes," replied the Commissary of
+Police.
+
+"As much as that? I should have thought less. We had to greet each
+other, after having been parted for many months; and still, in the three
+minutes, you believe that we had time to concoct a plot of some sort,
+and to find some safe corner--all the while in semi-darkness--for the
+hiding of a thing important to the police--a bomb, perhaps? You must
+think us very clever."
+
+"I know that you are very clever, Mademoiselle."
+
+"Perhaps I ought to thank you for the compliment," she answered,
+allowing anger to warm her voice at last; "but this is almost beyond a
+joke. A woman comes to the rooms of a friend. Both of them are so placed
+that they prefer her call not to be talked about. For that reason, and
+for the woman's sake, the friend chooses to take a name that isn't
+his--as he has a right to do. Yet, just because that woman happens
+unfortunately to be well-known--her face and name being public
+property--she is followed, she is spied upon, humiliated, and all, no
+doubt, on account of some silly mistake, or malicious false information.
+Ah, it is shameful, Monsieur! I wonder the police of Paris can stoop to
+such stupidity, such meanness."
+
+"When we have found out that it is a mistake, the police of Paris will
+apologise to you, Mademoiselle, through me," said the Commissary; "until
+then, I regret if our duty makes us disagreeable to you." Then, turning
+to his two gendarmes, he directed them to search the room, beginning
+with all possible places in which a paper parcel or large envelope might
+be hidden, within ten metres of the spot where Mademoiselle and Monsieur
+had stood talking together when the police opened the door.
+
+Maxine did not protest again. With her head up, and a look as if the
+three policemen were of no more importance to her than the furniture of
+the room, she walked to the mantelpiece and stood leaning her elbow upon
+it. Weariness, disgusted indifference, were in her attitude; but I
+guessed that she felt herself actually in need of the physical support.
+
+The two gendarmes moved about in noiseless obedience, their faces
+expressionless as masks. They did not glance at Maxine, giving
+themselves entirely to the task at which they had been set. But their
+superior officer did not once take his eyes from the pure profile she
+turned scornfully towards him. I knew why he watched her thus, and
+thought of a foolish, child's game I used to play twenty years ago, at
+little-boy-and-girl parties: the game of "Hide-the-Handkerchief." While
+one searched for the treasure, those who knew where it was stood by,
+saying: "Now you are warm. Now you are hot--boiling hot. Now you are
+cool again. Now you are ice cold." It was as if we were five players at
+this game, and Maxine de Renzie's white, deathly smiling face was
+expected to proclaim against her will: "Now you are warm. Now you are
+hot. Now you are ice cold."
+
+There was a table in the middle of the room, with one or two volumes of
+photographs and brightly-bound guide books of Paris upon it, as well as
+my hat and gloves which I had tossed down as I came in. The gendarmes
+picked up these things, examined them, laid them aside, peered under the
+table; peeped behind the silk cushions on the sofa, opened the doors and
+drawers of a bric-à-brac cabinet and a small writing desk, lifted the
+corners of the rugs on the bare, polished floor; and finally, bowing
+apologies to Maxine for disturbing her, took out the logs from the
+fireplace where the fire was ready for lighting, and pried into the
+vases on the mantel. Also they shook the silk and lace window curtains,
+and moved the pictures on the walls. When all this had been done in
+vain, the pair confessed with shrugs of the shoulders that they were at
+a loss.
+
+During the search, which had been conducted in silence, I had a curious
+sensation, caused by my intense sympathy with Maxine's suffering. I felt
+as if my heart were the pendulum of a clock which had been jarred until
+it was uncertain whether to go on or stop. Once, when the gendarmes were
+peering under the sofa, or behind the sofa cushions, a grey shadow round
+Maxine's eyes made her beautiful face look like a death-mask in the
+white electric light, which did not fail now, or spare her any cruelty
+of revelation. She was smiling contemptuously still--always the same
+smile--but her forehead appeared to have been sprinkled with diamond
+dust.
+
+I saw that dewy sparkle, and wondered, sickeningly, if the enemy saw it
+too. But I had not long to wait before being satisfied on this point.
+The keen-eyed Frenchman gave no further instructions to his baffled
+subordinates, but crossing the room to the sofa stood staring at it
+fixedly. Then, grasping the back with his capable-looking hand, instead
+of beginning at once a quest which his gendarmes had abandoned, he
+searched the face of the tortured woman.
+
+Unflinching in courage, she seemed not to see him. But it was as if she
+had suddenly ceased to breathe. Her bosom no longer rose and fell. The
+only movement was the visible knocking of her heart. I felt that, in
+another moment, if he found what she had hidden, her heart would knock
+no longer, and she would die. For a second I wildly counted the chances
+of overpowering all three men, stunning them into unconsciousness, and
+giving Maxine time to escape with the letter-case. But I knew the
+attempt would be useless. Even if I could succeed, the noise would
+arouse the hotel. People would come. Other policemen would rush in to
+the help of their comrades, and matters would be worse with us than
+before.
+
+The Frenchman, having looked at Maxine, and seen that tell-tale beating
+of her bodice, deliberately laid the silk cushions on the floor. Then,
+pushing his hand down between the seat and the back of the sofa, he
+moved it along the crevice inch by inch.
+
+I watched the hand, which looked cruel to me as that of an executioner.
+I think Maxine watched it, too. Suddenly it stopped. It had found
+something. The other hand sprang to its assistance. Both worked
+together, groping and prying for a few seconds: evidently the something
+hidden had been forced deeply and firmly down. Then, up it came--a dark
+red leather case, which was neither a letter-case nor a jewel-case, but
+might be used for either. My heart almost stopped beating in the intense
+relief I felt. For this was not the thing I had come from London to
+bring Maxine.
+
+I could hardly keep back a cry of joy. But I did keep it back, for
+suspense and anxiety had left me a few grains of sense.
+
+"Voila!" grunted the Commissary of Police. "I said that you were clever,
+Mademoiselle. But it would have been as well for all concerned if you
+had spared us this trouble."
+
+"You alone are to blame for the trouble," answered Maxine. "I never saw
+that thing before in my life."
+
+I was astonished that there was no ring of satisfaction in her voice. It
+sounded hard and defiant, but there was no triumph in it, no joy that,
+so far, she was saved--as if by a miracle. Rather was her tone that of a
+woman at bay, fighting to the last, but without hope. "Nor did I ever
+see it before." I echoed her words.
+
+She glanced at me as if with gratitude. Yet there was no need for
+gratitude. I was not lying for her sake, but speaking the plain truth,
+as I thought that she must know.
+
+For the first time the Commissary of Police condescended to laugh. "I
+suppose you want me to believe that the last occupant of this room
+tucked some valued possession down into a safe hiding place--and then
+forgot all about it. That is likely, is it not? You shall have the
+pleasure, Mademoiselle--and you, Monsieur--of seeing with me what that
+careless person left behind him."
+
+He had laid the thing on the table, and now he tapped it, aggravatingly,
+with his hand. But the strain was over for me. I looked on with
+calmness, and was amazed when at last Maxine flew to him, no longer
+scornful, tragically indifferent in her manner, but imploring--a weak,
+agonized woman.
+
+"For the love of God, spare me, Monsieur," she sobbed. "You don't
+understand. I confess that what you have there, is mine. I have held
+myself high, in my own eyes, and the eyes of the world, because I--an
+actress--never took a lover. But now I am like the others. This is my
+lover. There's the price I put on my love. Now, Monsieur, I ask you on
+my womanhood to hold what is in that leather case sacred."
+
+I felt the blood rush to my face as if she had struck me across it with
+a whip. My first thought, to my shame, was a selfish one. What if this
+became known, this thing that she had said, and Diana should hear? Then
+indeed all hope for me with the girl I loved would be over. My second
+thought was for Maxine herself. But she had sealed my lips. Since she
+had chosen the way, I could only be silent.
+
+"Mademoiselle, it is a grief to me that I must refuse such a prayer,
+from such a woman. But duty before chivalry. I must see the contents of
+that case," said the Commissary of Police.
+
+She caught his hand and rained tears upon it. "No--no!" she implored.
+"If I were rich, I would offer you thousands to spare me. I've been
+extravagant--I haven't saved, but all I have in the world is yours
+if--."
+
+"There can be no such 'if,' Mademoiselle," the man broke in. And
+wrenching his hand free, he opened the case before she could again
+prevent him.
+
+Out fell a cascade of light, a diamond necklace. It flashed to the
+floor, where it lay on one of the sofa cushions, sending up a spray of
+rainbow colours.
+
+_"Sacré bleu!"_ muttered the Frenchman, under his breath, for whatever
+he had expected, he had not expected that. But Maxine spoke not a word.
+Shorn of hope, as, in spite of her prayers and tears, the leather case
+was torn open, she was shorn of strength as well; and the beautiful,
+tall figure crumpling like a flower broken on its stalk, she would have
+fallen if I had not caught her, holding her up against my shoulder. When
+the cataract of diamonds sprang out of the case, however, I felt her
+limp body straighten itself. I felt her pulses leap. I felt her begin to
+_live_. She had drunk a draught of hope and life, and, fortified by it,
+was gathering all her scattered forces together for a new fight, if
+fight she must again.
+
+The Commissary of Police turned the leather case wrong side out. It was
+empty. There had been nothing inside but the necklace: not a card, not a
+scrap of paper.
+
+"Where, then, is the document?" Crestfallen, he put the question half to
+himself, half to Maxine de Renzie.
+
+"What document?" she asked, too wise to betray relief in voice or face.
+Hearing the heavy tone, seeing the shamed face, the hanging head that
+lay against my shoulder, who--knowing a little less than I did of the
+truth--would have dreamed that in her soul she thanked God for a
+miracle? Even I would not have been sure, had I not felt the life
+stealing back into her half-dead body.
+
+"The contents of the case are not what I came here to find," admitted
+the Enemy.
+
+"I do not know what you came to find, but you have made me suffer
+horribly," said Maxine. "You have been very cruel to a woman who has
+done nothing to deserve such humiliation. All pleasure I might have
+taken in my diamonds is gone now. I shall never have a peaceful
+moment--never be able to wear them joyfully. I shall have the thought in
+my mind that people who look at me will be saying: 'Every woman has her
+price. There is the price of Maxine de Renzie.'"
+
+"You need have no such thought, Mademoiselle," the man protested. "We
+shall never speak to anyone except those who will receive our report, of
+what we have heard and seen in this room."
+
+"Won't you search further?" asked Maxine. "Since you seemed to expect
+something else--"
+
+"You would not have had time to conceal more than one thing,
+Mademoiselle," said the policeman, with a smile that was faintly grim.
+"Besides, this case was what you did not wish us to find. You are a
+great actress, but you could not control the dew which sprang out on
+your forehead, or the beating of your heart when I touched the sofa, so
+I knew: I had been watching you for that. There has been an error, and I
+can only apologise."
+
+"I don't blame you, but those who sent you," said Maxine, letting me
+lead her to a chair, into which she sank, limply. "I am thankful you do
+not tell me these diamonds are contraband in some way. I was not sure
+but it would end in that."
+
+"Not at all, Mademoiselle. I wish you joy of them. It is you who will
+adorn the jewels, not they you. Again I apologise for myself and my
+companions. We have but done our duty."
+
+"I have an enemy, who must have contrived this plot against me,"
+exclaimed Maxine, as if on a sudden thought. "It is said that 'Hell hath
+no fury like a woman scorned.' But what of a man who has been
+scorned--by a woman? He knew I wanted all my strength for to-night--the
+night of the new play--and he will be hoping that this has broken me.
+But I will not be broken. If you would atone, Messieurs, for your part
+in this scene, you will go to the theatre this evening and encourage me
+by your applause."
+
+All three bowed. The Commissary of Police, lately so relentless,
+murmured compliments. It was all very French, and after what had passed,
+gave me the sensation that I was in a dream.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+IVOR HEARS THE STORY
+
+They were gone. They had closed the door behind them. I looked at
+Maxine, but she did not speak. With her finger to her lips she got up,
+trembling still; and walking to the door, she opened it suddenly to look
+out. Nobody was there.
+
+"They may have gone into your bedroom to listen at that door," she
+whispered.
+
+I took the hint, and going quickly into the room adjoining, turned on
+the light. Emptiness there: but I left the door open, and the
+electricity switched on. They might change their minds, or be more
+subtle than they wished to seem.
+
+Maxine threw herself on the sofa, gathering up the necklace from the
+cushion where it had fallen, and lifting it in both hands pressed the
+glittering mass against her lips and cheeks.
+
+"Thank God, thank God--and thank you, Ivor, best of friends!" she said
+brokenly, in so low a voice that no ear could have caught her words,
+even if pressed against the keyhole. Then, letting the diamonds drop
+into her lap, she flung back her head and laughed and cried together.
+
+"Oh, Ivor, Ivor!" she panted, between her sobs and hysterical gusts of
+laughter. "The agony of it--the agony--and the joy now! You're
+wonderful. Good, precious Ivor--dear friend--saint."
+
+At this I laughed too, partly to calm her, and patted gently the hands
+with which she had nervously clutched my sleeve.
+
+"Heaven knows I don't deserve one of those epithets," I said, "I'll just
+stick to friend."
+
+"Not deserve them?" she repeated. "Not deserve them, when you've saved
+me--I don't yet understand how--from a horror worse than death--oh, but
+a thousand times worse, for I wanted to die. I meant to die. If they had
+found it, I shouldn't have lived to see to-morrow morning. Tell me--how
+did you work such a miracle? How did you get this necklace, that meant
+so much to me (and to one I love), and how did you hide the--other
+thing?"
+
+"I don't know anything about this necklace," I answered, stupidly, "I
+didn't bring it."
+
+"You--_didn't bring it_?"
+
+"No. At least, that red leather thing isn't the case I carried. When the
+fellow pulled it out from the sofa, I saw it wasn't what I'd had, so I
+thanked our lucky stars, and would have tried to let you know that all
+hope wasn't over, if I'd dared to catch your eye or make a signal."
+
+Maxine was suddenly calm. The tears had dried on her cheeks, and her
+eyes were fever-bright.
+
+"Ivor, you can't know what you are talking about," she said, in a
+changed voice. "That red leather case is what you took out of your
+breast pocket and handed to me when I first came into the room. At the
+sound of the knock, I pushed it down as far as I could between the seat
+and back of the sofa, and then ran off to a distance before the door
+opened. You _did_ bring the necklace, knowingly or not; and as it was
+the cause of all my trouble in the beginning, I needn't tell you of the
+joy I had in seeing it, apart from the heavenly relief of being spared
+discovery of the thing I feared. Now, when you've given me the other
+packet, which you hid so marvellously, I can go away happy."
+
+I stared at her, feeling more than ever like one in a dream.
+
+"I gave you the only thing I brought," I said. "It was in my breast
+pocket, inside my coat. I took it out, and put it in your hands. There
+was no other thing. Look again in the sofa. It must be there still. This
+red case is something else--we can try to account for it later. It all
+came through the lights not working. If it hadn't been dusk you would
+have seen that I gave you a dark green leather letter-case--quite
+different from this, though of about the same length--rather less thick,
+and--"
+
+Frantically she began ransacking the crevice between the seat and back
+of the sofa, but nothing was there. We might have known there could be
+nothing or the Commissary of Police would have been before us. With a
+cry she cut me short at last throwing up her hands in despair. She was
+deathly pale again, and all the light had gone out of her eyes leaving
+them dull as if she had been sick with some long illness.
+
+"What will become of me?" she stammered. "The treaty lost! My God--what
+shall I do? Ivor, you are killing me. Do you know--you are killing me?"
+
+The word "treaty" was new to me in this connection, for the Foreign
+Secretary had not thought it necessary that his messenger should be
+wholly in his secrets--and Maxine's. Yet hearing the word brought no
+great surprise. I knew that I had been cat's-paw in some game of high
+stakes. But it was of Maxine I thought now, and the importance of the
+loss to her, not the national disaster which it might well be also.
+
+"Wait," I said, "don't despair yet. There's some mistake. Perhaps we
+shall be able to see light when we've thrashed this out and talked it
+over. I know I had a green letter-case. It never left my pocket. I
+thought of it and guarded it every moment. Could those diamonds have
+been inside it? Could the Foreign Secretary had given me the necklace,
+_instead_ of what you expected?"
+
+"No, no," she answered with desperate impatience. "He knew that the only
+thing which could save me was the document I'd sent him. I wired that I
+must have it back again immediately, for my own sake--for his--for the
+sake of England. Ivor! Think again. Do you want me to go mad?"
+
+"I will think," I said, trying to speak reassuringly. "Give me a
+moment--a quiet moment--"
+
+"A quiet moment," she repeated, bitterly, "when for me each second is an
+hour! It's late, and this is the night of my new play. Soon, I must be
+at the theatre, for the make-up and dressing of this part for the first
+act are a heavy business. I don't want all Paris to know that Maxine de
+Renzie has been ruined by her enemies. Let us keep the secret while we
+can, for others' sakes, and so gain time for our own, if all is not
+lost--if you believe still that there's any hope. Oh, save me,
+Ivor--somehow. My whole life is in this."
+
+"Let your understudy take your part to-night, while we think, and work,"
+I suggested. "You cannot go to the theatre in this state."
+
+"For an actress there's no such word as 'cannot,'" she said bitterly. "I
+could play a part to the finish, and crawl off the stage to die the next
+instant; yet no one would have guessed that I was dying. I have no
+understudy. What use to have one? What audience would stop in the
+theatre after an announcement that their Maxine's understudy would take
+her place? Every man and woman would walk out and get his money back.
+No; for the sake of the man I love better than my life, or twenty
+lives--the man I've either saved or ruined--I'll play tonight, if I go
+mad or kill myself to-morrow. Don't 'think quietly,' Ivor. Think out
+aloud, and let me follow the workings of your mind. We may help each
+other, so. Let us go over together everything that happened to you from
+the minute you took the letter-case from the Foreign Secretary up to the
+minute I came into this room."
+
+I obeyed, beginning at the very beginning and telling her all, except
+the part that had to do with Diana Forrest. She had no concern in that.
+I told her how I had slept with the green letter-case under my pillow,
+and had waked to feel and look for it once or twice an hour. How when
+morning came I had been late in getting to the train: how I had
+struggled with the two men who tried to keep me out of the reserved
+compartment into which they were intruding. How the man who had a right
+to it, after wishing to prevent my entering, helped me in the end,
+rather than be alone with the pair who had forced themselves upon him.
+How he had stumbled almost into my arms in a panic, during the confusion
+after the false alarm on the boat's gangway. How he had walked beside me
+and seemed on the point of speaking, later, in the Gare du Nord. How I
+had avoided and lost sight of him; but how I had many times covertly
+touched my pocket to be sure that, through all, the letter-case was
+still safe there.
+
+Maxine grew calmer, though not, I think, more hopeful as I talked; and
+at last she folded up the diamonds neatly in the red case, which she
+gave to me. "Put that into the same pocket," she said, "and then pass
+your hand over your coat, as you did often before. Now, does it feel
+exactly as if it were the green letter-case with which you started out?"
+
+"Yes, I think it does," I answered, doubtfully. "I'm afraid I shouldn't
+know the difference. This _may_ be a little thicker than the other,
+but--I can't be sure. And, you see, I never once had a chance to
+unbutton my coat and look at the thing I had in this inner pocket. It
+would have attracted too much attention to risk that; and as a matter of
+fact, I was especially warned not to do it. I could trust only to the
+touch. But even granting that, by a skill almost clever enough for
+sleight of hand--a skill which only the smartest pickpocket in Europe
+could possess--why should a thief who had stolen my letter-case give me
+instead a string of diamonds worth many thousands of pounds? If he
+wanted to put something into my pocket of much the same size and shape
+as the thing he stole, so that I shouldn't suspect my loss, why didn't
+he slip in the red case _empty_, instead of containing the necklace?"
+
+"_This_ necklace, too, of all things in the world!" murmured Maxine,
+lost in the mystery. "It's like a dream. Yet here--by some miracle--it
+is, in our hands. And the treaty is gone."
+
+"The treaty is gone," I repeated, miserably.
+
+It was Maxine herself who had spoken the words which I merely echoed,
+yet it almost killed her to hear them from me. No doubt it gave the
+dreadful fact a kind of inevitability. She flung herself down on the
+sofa with a groan, her face buried in her hands.
+
+"My God, what a punishment!" she stammered. "I've ruined the man I
+risked everything to save. I will go to the theatre, and I will act
+to-night, my friend, but unless you can give me back what is lost, when
+to-morrow morning comes, I shall be out of the world."
+
+"Don't say that," I implored, sick with pity for her and shame at my
+failure. "All hope isn't over yet; it can't be. I'll think this out.
+There must be a solution. There must be a way of laying hold of what
+_seems_ to be gone. If by giving my life I could get it, I assure you I
+wouldn't hesitate for an instant, now: so you see, there's nothing I
+won't do to help you. Only, I wish the path could be made a little
+plainer for me--unless for some reason it's necessary for you to keep me
+in the dark. The word 'treaty' I heard for the first time from you. I
+didn't know what I was bringing you, except that it was a document of
+international importance, and that you'd been helping the British
+Foreign Secretary--perhaps Great Britain as a Power--in some ticklish
+manoeuvre of high politics. He said that, so far as he was concerned,
+you might tell me more if you liked. He left it to you. That was his
+message."
+
+"Then I will tell you more!" Maxine exclaimed. "It will be better to do
+so. I know that it will make it easier for you to help me. The document
+you were bringing me was a treaty--a quite new treaty between Japan,
+Russia and France: not a copy, but the original. England had been warned
+that there was a secret understanding between the three countries,
+unknown to her. There was no time to make a copy. And I stole the real
+treaty from Raoul du Laurier, to whom I am engaged--whom I adore, Ivor,
+as I didn't know it was in me to adore any man. You know his name,
+perhaps--that he's Under Secretary in the Foreign Office, here in Paris.
+Oh, I can read in your eyes what you're thinking of me, now. You can't
+think worse of me than I think of myself. Yet I did the thing for
+Raoul's sake. There's that in my defence--only that."
+
+"I don't understand," I said, trying not to show the horror of Maxine's
+treachery to a man who loved and trusted her, which I could not help
+feeling.
+
+"How could you?--except that I've betrayed him! But I'll tell you
+everything--I'll go back a long way. Then you'll pity me, even if you
+scorn me, too. You'll work for me--to save me, and him. For years I've
+helped the British Government. Oh, I won't spare myself. I've been a
+spy, sometimes against one Power, sometimes against another. When there
+was anything to do against Russia, I was always glad, because my dear
+father was a Pole, and you know how Poles feel towards Russia. Russia
+ruined his life, and stripped it of everything worth having, not only
+money, but--oh, well, that's not in this story of mine! I won't trouble
+you or waste time in the telling. Only, when I was a very young girl, I
+was already the enemy of all that's Russian, with a big debt of revenge
+to pay. And I've been paying it, slowly. Don't think that the money I've
+had for my work--hateful work often--has been used for myself. It's been
+for my father's country--poor, sad country--every shilling of English
+coin. As an actress I've supported myself, and, as an actress, it has
+been easier for me to do the other secret work than it would have been
+for a woman leading a more sheltered life, mingling less with
+distinguished persons of different countries, or unable to be eccentric
+without causing scandal. As for France, she's the friend of Russia, and
+I haven't a drop of French blood in my veins, so, at least, I've never
+been treacherous to my own people. Oh, I have made some great _coups_ in
+the last eight or nine years, Ivor!... for I began before I was sixteen,
+and now I'm twenty-six. Once or twice England has had to thank me for
+giving her news of the most vital importance. You're shocked to hear
+what my inner life has been?"
+
+"If I were shocked, no doubt the feeling would be more than half
+conventional. One hardly knows how conventional one's opinions are until
+one stops to think," said I.
+
+"Once, I gloried in the work," Maxine went on. "But that was before I
+fell in love. You and I have played a little at being in love, but that
+was to pass the time. Both of us were flirting. I'd never met Raoul
+then, and I've never really loved any man except him. It came at first
+sight, for me: and when he told me that he cared, he said it had begun
+when he first saw me on the stage; so you see it is as if we were meant
+for each other. From the moment I gave him my promise, I promised myself
+that the old work should be given up for ever: Raoul's _fiancée_,
+Raoul's wife, should not be the tool of diplomatists. Besides, as he's a
+Frenchman, his wife would owe loyalty to France, which Maxine de Renzie
+never owed. I wanted--oh, how much I wanted--to be only what Raoul
+believed me, just a simple, true-hearted woman, with nothing to hide. It
+made me sick to think that there was one thing I must always conceal
+from him, but I did the best I could. I vowed to myself that I'd break
+with the past, and I wrote a letter to the British Foreign Secretary,
+who has always been a good friend of mine. I said I was engaged, and
+hoped to begin my life all over again in a different way, though he
+might be sure that I'd know how to keep his secrets as well as my own.
+Oh, Ivor, to think that was hardly more than a week ago! I was happy
+then. I feel twenty years older now."
+
+"A week ago. You've been engaged only a week?" I broke in.
+
+"Not many days more. I guessed, I hoped, long ago that Raoul cared, but
+he wouldn't have told me, even the day he did tell, if he hadn't lost
+his head a little. He hadn't meant to speak, it seems, for he's poor,
+and he thought he had no right. But what's a man worth who doesn't lose
+his head when he loves a woman? I adored him for it. We decided not to
+let anyone know until a few weeks before we could marry, as I didn't
+care to have my engagement gossipped about, for months on end. There
+were reasons why--more than one: but the man of all others whom I didn't
+want to know the truth found out, or, rather, suspected what had
+happened, the very day when Raoul and I came to an understanding--Count
+Godensky of the Russian Embassy. He called, and was let in by mistake
+while Raoul was with me, and, just as he must have seen by our faces
+that there was something to suspect, so I saw by his that he did
+suspect. Oh, a hateful person! I've refused him three times. There are
+some men so vain that they can never believe a woman really means to say
+'no' to them. Count Godensky is one of those, and he's dangerous, too.
+I'm afraid of him, since I've cared for Raoul, though I used to be
+afraid of no one, when I'd only myself to think of. Raoul was going away
+that very night. He had an errand to do for a woman who was a dear and
+intimate friend of his dead mother. You must know of the Duchesse de
+Montpellier? Well, it was for her: and Raoul is like her son. She has no
+children of her own."
+
+"I don't know her," I said, "but I've seen her; a charming looking
+woman, about forty-five, with a gloomy-faced husband--a fellow who might
+be rather a Tartar to live with. They were pointed out to me at Monte
+Carlo one year, in the Casino, where the Duchess seemed to be enjoying
+herself hugely, though the Duke had the air of being dragged in against
+his will."
+
+"No doubt he had been--or else he was there to fetch her out. Poor dear,
+she's a dreadful gambler. It's in her blood! I She lost, I don't know
+how much, at Monte Carlo on an 'infallible system' she had. She's afraid
+of her husband, though she loves him immensely; and lately a craze she's
+had for Bridge has cost her so much that she daren't tell the Duke, who
+hates her gambling. She confessed to Raoul, and begged him to help
+her--not with money, for he has none, but by taking a famous and
+wonderful diamond necklace of hers to Amsterdam, selling the stones for
+her there, and having them replaced with paste. It was all to be done
+very secretly, of course, so that the Duke shouldn't know, and Raoul
+hated it, but he couldn't refuse. He had no idea of telling me this
+story, that day when he 'lost his head,' while we were bidding each
+other good-bye before his journey. He didn't mention the name of the
+Duchess, but said only that he had leave, and was going to Holland on
+business. But while he was away a _dreadful_ thing happened--the most
+ghastly misfortune--and as we were engaged to be married, he felt
+obliged when he came back to let me know the worst."
+
+"What was the dreadful thing that happened?" I asked, as she paused,
+pressing her hands against her temples.
+
+"The necklace was stolen from Raoul by a thief, who must have been one
+of the most expert in the world. Can you imagine Raoul's feelings? He
+came to me in despair, asking my advice. What was he to do? He dared not
+appeal to the police, or the Duchess's secret would come out. And he
+couldn't bear to tell her of the loss, not only because it would be such
+a blow to her, as she was depending on the money from the sale of the
+jewels, but because she knew that he was in some difficulties, and
+_might_ be tempted to believe that he'd only pretended the diamonds were
+stolen--while really he'd sold them for his own use."
+
+"As she's fond of him, and trusts him, probably she would have thought
+no such thing," I tried to comfort Maxine. "But certainly, it was a
+rather bad fix."
+
+"Rather bad fix! Oh, you laconic creatures, Englishmen. All you think of
+is to hide your feelings behind icy words. As for me--well, there was
+nothing I wouldn't have done to help him--nothing. My life would have
+been a small thing to give. I would have given my soul. And already a
+thought came flashing into my mind. I begged Raoul to wait, and say
+nothing to the Duchess, who didn't even know yet that he'd come back
+from Amsterdam. The thought in my mind was about the commission from
+your Secretary for Foreign Affairs. As I told you, I'd just sent him
+word in the usual cypher and through the usual channels, that I couldn't
+do what he wanted. He'd offered me eight thousand pounds to undertake
+the service, and four more if I succeeded. I believed I could succeed if
+I tried. And with the few thousands I'd saved up, and selling such
+jewels as I had, I could make up the sum Raoul had been told to ask for
+the necklace. Then he could give it to the Duchess, and she need never
+know that the diamonds had been stolen. All that night I lay awake
+thinking, thinking. Next day, at a time when I knew Raoul would be
+working in his office, I went to see him there, and cheered him up as
+well as I could. I told him that in a few days I hoped to have eighteen
+or twenty thousand pounds in my hands--all for him. To let him have the
+money would make me happier than I'd ever been. At first he said he
+wouldn't take it from me--I knew he would say that! But, at last, after
+I'd cried and begged, and persuaded, he consented; only it was to be a
+loan, and some how, some time, he would pay me back. In that office
+there are several great safes; and when we had grown quite happy and gay
+together, I made Raoul tell me which was the most important of
+all--where the really sacred and valuable things were kept. He laughed
+and pointed out the most interesting one--the one, he said, which held
+all the deepest secrets of French foreign diplomacy. I was sure then
+that the thing I had to get for the British Foreign Secretary must be
+there, though it was such a new thing that it couldn't have been
+anywhere for long. 'There are three keys to that safe,' said Raoul. 'One
+is kept by the President; one is always with the Foreign Secretary; this
+is the third'; and he showed me a strange little key different to any I
+had seen before. 'Oh, do let me have a peep at these wonderful papers,'
+I pleaded with him. Before coming I had planned what to do. Round my
+throat I wore a string of imitation pearls, which I'd put on for a
+special purpose. But they were pretty, and so well made that only an
+expert would know they weren't real. Raoul isn't an expert; so at the
+moment he fitted the key into the lock of the safe to open the door, I
+gave a sly little pull, and broke the thread, making the pearls roll
+everywhere about the floor. He was quite distressed, forgot all about
+the key in the lock, and flew to pick up the pearls as if each one were
+worth at least a thousand francs.
+
+"While he was busy finding the lost beads, I whipped out the key, took
+an impression of it on a piece of wax I had ready, concealed in my
+handkerchief, and slipped it back into the lock while he was still on
+his hands and knees on the floor. Then he opened the safe-door for a
+moment, just to give me the peep I had begged for, but not long enough
+for me to touch anything even if I'd dared to try with him standing
+there. Enough, though, to show me that the documents were neatly
+arranged in labelled pigeon-holes, and to see their general character,
+colour, and shape. That same day a key to fit the lock was being made;
+and when it was ready, I made an excuse to call again on Raoul at the
+office. Not that a very elaborate excuse was needed. The poor fellow,
+trusting me as he trusts himself, or more, was only too glad to have me
+come to him, even in that sacred place. Now, the thing was to get him
+away. But I'd made up my mind what to do. In another office, upstairs,
+was a friend of Raoul's--the one who introduced us to each other, and
+I'd made up a message for him, which I begged Raoul to take, and bring
+his friend to speak to me. He went, and I believed I might count on five
+minutes to myself. No more--but those five minutes would have to be
+enough for success or failure. The instant the door shut behind Raoul, I
+was at the safe. The key fitted. I snatched out a folded document, and
+opened it to make quite, quite certain it was the right one, for a
+mistake would be inexcusable and spoil everything. It was what I
+wanted--the treaty, newly made, between Japan, Russia and France--the
+treaty which your Foreign Secretary thought he had reason to believe was
+a secret one, arranged between the three countries without the knowledge
+of England and to the prejudice of her interests. The one glance I had
+gave me the impression that the document was nothing of the kind, but
+quite innocent, affecting trade only; yet that wasn't my business. I had
+to send it to the Foreign Secretary, who wanted to know its precise
+nature, and whether England was being deceived. In place of the treaty I
+slipped into its pigeon-hole a document I'd brought with me--just like
+the real thing. No one opening the safe on other business would suspect
+the change that had been made. My hope was to get the treaty back before
+it should be missed. You see, I was betraying Raoul, to save him. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"I understand. You must have persuaded yourself that you were justified.
+But, good Heavens, Maxine," I couldn't help breaking out, "it was an
+awful thing to do."
+
+"I know--I know. But I had to have the money--for Raoul. And there was
+no other way to get it. You remember, I'd refused, till the diamonds
+were lost, and would have refused even if Raoul had nothing to do with
+the French Foreign Office. But let me go on telling you what happened. I
+had time enough. I had even a minute or two to spare. And fortunately
+for me, the man I'd sent Raoul to find was out. I looked at my watch,
+pretended to be surprised, and said I must go at once. I couldn't bear
+to waste a second in hurrying the treaty off, so that it might the more
+quickly be on its way back. I hadn't come to visit Raoul in my own
+carriage, but in a cab, which was waiting. As Raoul was taking me to it,
+Count Godensky got out of a motor-brougham, and saw me. If only it had
+been anywhere except in front of the Foreign Office! I told myself there
+was no reason why he should guess that anything was wrong, but I was in
+such a state of nerves that, as he raised his hat, and his eyebrows, I
+fancied that he imagined all sorts of things, and I felt myself grow red
+and pale. What a fool I was--and how weak! But I couldn't help it. I
+didn't wait to go home. I wrote a few lines in the cab, and sent off the
+packet, registered, in time I hoped, to catch the post--but after all,
+it didn't. Coming out from the post office, there was Godensky again, in
+his motor-brougham. _That_ could have been no coincidence. A horrid
+certainty sprang to life in me that he'd followed my cab from the
+Foreign Office, to see where I would go. Why couldn't I have thought of
+that danger? I have always thought of things, and guarded against them;
+yet this time, this time of all others, I seemed fated."
+
+"But if Godensky had known what you were doing, the game would have been
+up for you before this," I said.
+
+"He didn't know, of course. Only--if he wants to be a woman's lover and
+she won't have him, he's her enemy and he's the enemy of the man who
+_is_ her lover. He's too clever and too careful of his own interests to
+speak out prematurely anything he might vaguely suspect, for it would do
+him harm if he proved mistaken. He wouldn't yet, I think, even warn
+those whom it might concern, to search and see if anything in Raoul's
+charge were out of order or missing. But what he would do, what I think
+he has done, is this. Having some idea, as he may have, that my
+relations with certain important persons in England are rather friendly,
+and seeing me come from the Foreign Office to go almost straight to the
+post, it might have occurred to him to try and learn the name of my
+correspondent. He has influence--he could perhaps have found out: but if
+he did, it wouldn't have helped him much, for naturally, my dealings
+with the British Foreign Secretary are always well under cover--hence a
+delay sometimes in his receiving word from me. What I send can never go
+straight to him, as you may guess. Godensky would guess that, too: and
+he would have perhaps informed the police, very cautiously, very
+unofficially and confidentially, that he suspected Maxine de Renzie of
+being a political spy in the pay of England. He would have advised that
+my movements be watched for the next few days: that English agents of
+the French police be warned to watch also, on their side of the Channel.
+He would have argued to himself that if I'd sent any document away, with
+Raoul's connivance or without, I would be wanting it back as soon as
+possible; and he would have mentioned to the police that possibly a
+messenger would bring me something--if my correspondence through the
+post was found to contain nothing compromising. Oh, there have been eyes
+on me, and on every movement of mine, I'm sure. See how efficient,
+though quiet, the methods have been where you're concerned. They--the
+police--knew the name of the man I was to meet here at this hotel; and
+if, as Godensky must have hoped, any document belonging to the French
+Government had been found on you or me, everything would have played
+into his hands. Raoul would have been ruined, his heart broken, and
+I--but there are no words to express what I would have suffered, what I
+may yet have to suffer. Godensky would be praised for his cleverness, as
+well as securing a satisfactory revenge on me for refusing him. The only
+thing which rejoices me now is the thought of his blank disappointment
+when he gets the news from the Commissary of Police."
+
+"You don't believe then," I asked, "that Godensky has had any hand in
+the disappearance of the treaty?"
+
+"I would believe it, if it weren't for the necklace being put in its
+place. Even if Count Godensky could have known of Raoul's mission with
+the diamonds, and got them into his own hands, he wouldn't have let them
+get out again with every chance of their going back to Raoul, and thus
+saving him from his trouble. He'd do nothing to help, but everything to
+hinder. There lies the mystery--in the return of the necklace instead of
+the treaty. You have no knowledge of it, you tell me; yet you come to me
+with it in your pocket--the necklace stolen from Raoul du Laurier, days
+ago, in Amsterdam or on the way there."
+
+"You're certain it's the same?"
+
+"Certain as that you are you, and I am I. And I'm not out of my mind
+yet--though I soon shall be, unless you somehow save me from this
+horror."
+
+"I'm going to try," I said. "Don't give up hope. I wish, though, that
+you hadn't to act to-night."
+
+"So do I. But there's no way out of it. And I must go now to the
+theatre, or I shall be late: my make-up's a heavy one, and takes a long
+time. I can't afford to have any talk about me and my affairs to-night,
+whatever comes afterwards. Raoul will be in a box, and at the end of the
+first act, he'll be at the door of my dressing-room. The agony of seeing
+him, of hearing him praise my acting, and saying dear, trusting, loving
+words that would make me almost too happy, if I hadn't betrayed him,
+ruined his career for ever!"
+
+"Maybe not," I said. "And anyhow, there's the necklace. That's
+something."
+
+"Yes, that's something."
+
+"Will Godensky be in the audience, too?" I asked.
+
+"I'm sure he will. He couldn't keep away. But he may be late. He won't
+come until he's had a long talk with the Commissary of Police, and tried
+to thrash matters out."
+
+"If only your theory's right, then,--if he hasn't dared yet to throw
+suspicion on du Laurier, and if the loss of that letter-case with its
+contents is as much of a mystery to him as it is to us, we have a little
+time before us still: we're comparatively safe for a few hours."
+
+"We're as safe," answered Maxine, with a kind of desperate calmness, "as
+if we were in a house with gunpowder stored underneath, and a train laid
+to fire it. But"--she broke off bitterly, "why do I say '_we_'. To you
+all this can be no more than a regret, a worry."
+
+"You know that's not just!" I reproached her. "I'm in this with you now,
+heart and soul. I spoke no more than the truth when I said I'd give my
+life, if necessary, to redeem my failure. Already I've given something,
+but--"
+
+"What have you given?" she caught me up quickly.
+
+"My hope of happiness with a girl I love as you love du Laurier," I
+answered; then regretted my words and would have taken them back if I
+could, for she had a heavy enough burden to bear already, without
+helping me bear mine.
+
+"I don't understand," she said.
+
+"Don't think of it. You can do nothing; and I don't grudge the
+sacrifice--or anything," I hurried on.
+
+"Yet I will think of it, if I ever have time to think of anything beyond
+this tangle. But now, it must be _au revoir_. Save me, save Raoul, if
+you can, Ivor. What you can do, I don't know. I'm groping in darkness.
+Yet you're my one hope. For pity's sake, come to my house when the
+play's over, to tell me what you've done, if you've been able to do
+anything. Be there at twelve."
+
+"I promise."
+
+"Thank you. I shall live for that moment. Now, give me the diamonds, and
+I'll go. I don't want you to be seen with me outside this room."
+
+I gave her the necklace, and she was at the door before I could open it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+IVOR IS LATE FOR AN APPOINTMENT
+
+I was glad to be alone, for as I had said, I wanted to think quietly.
+
+Maxine had taken the diamonds, but she had slipped the necklace into the
+bosom of her dress, pressing it down through the rather low-cut opening
+at the throat, and had therefore left the leather case. I picked the
+thing up from the table where she had thrown it, and examined it
+carefully for the first time.
+
+It had not been originally intended as a jewel-case, that was clear; and
+as Maxine's voice had rung unmistakably true when she denied all
+previous knowledge of it to the police, I judged that the diamonds had
+not been in it when the Duchess entrusted them to du Laurier. He would
+almost certainly have described to Maxine the box or case which had been
+stolen from him, and if the thing pulled out from the sofa-hiding-place
+had recalled his description, she must have betrayed some emotion under
+the keen eyes of the Commissary of Police.
+
+The case which, it seemed, I had brought to Paris, looked as if it might
+have been made to hold a peculiar kind of cigar, much longer than the
+ordinary sort. Within, on either side, was a partition, and there was a
+silver clasp on which the hallmark was English.
+
+"English silver!" I said to myself, thoughtfully. The three men who had
+travelled in the carriage with me from London to Dover were all English.
+Of the trio, only the nervous little fellow who had reserved the
+compartment for himself had found the smallest possible opportunity to
+steal the treaty from me, and exchange for it this red leather case
+containing a diamond necklace worth twenty thousand pounds. If he
+possessed the skill and quick deftness of a conjurer or a marvellously
+clever professional pickpocket, as well as the incentive of a paid spy,
+he might conceivably have done the trick at the moment of alarm on the
+boat's gangway, not afterwards; for when he had pressed near me in the
+Gare du Nord he had been on the wrong side. But for my life I could not
+guess the motive for such an exchange.
+
+Supposing him a spy, employed to track and rob me of what I carried, why
+should he have made me a present of these rare and precious diamonds?
+Would the bribe for which he used his skill reach anything like the sum
+he could obtain by selling the stones? I was almost sure it would not;
+and therefore, having the diamonds, it would have been far more to his
+advantage to keep them than to stuff them into my pocket, simply to fill
+up the space where the case with the treaty had lain. There would not
+have been time yet for the real diamonds to have been copied in
+Amsterdam, therefore it would be useless to build up a theory that the
+stones given me might be false.
+
+Besides, I reminded myself, if the man were a spy whose business was to
+watch and be near me, why hadn't he waited to see what I would do, where
+I would go, instead of taking a compartment, carefully reserving it, and
+trusting to such an unlikely chance as that I might force myself into it
+with him? Even if the three men had been in some obscure way playing
+into each others' hands, I could not see how their game had been
+arranged to catch me.
+
+Maxine and I had talked for a long time, but not two hours had passed
+yet since I saw the last of the little rat of a man in the
+railway-station. Though I could not understand any reason for his
+tricking me, still I told myself that nobody else could have done it,
+and I decided to go back at once to the Gare du Nord. There I might
+still be able to find some trace of the little man and of my two other
+fellow-travellers. If through a porter or cabman I could learn where
+they had gone, I might have a chance even now of getting back the stolen
+treaty. I had brought with me from London a loaded revolver, warned by
+the Foreign Secretary that to do so would be a wise precaution; and I
+was ready to make use of it if necessary.
+
+I was beginning to be very hungry, but that was a detail of no
+importance, for I had no time to waste in eating. I went to the
+railway-station and looked about until I found a porter whose face I had
+seen when I got out of the train. He had, in fact, appeared under the
+window of my compartment, offering himself as a luggage carrier and had
+been close behind me when my late travelling companion walked by my
+side. Questioned, he appeared not to remember; but his wits being
+sharpened by the gift of a franc, he reflected and recalled not only my
+features but the features of the little man, whom he described with
+sufficient accuracy. What had become of _le petit Monsieur_ he was not
+certain, but fancied he had eventually driven away in a cab accompanied
+by two other gentlemen. He recollected this circumstance, because the
+face of the cabman was one that he knew; and it was now again in the
+station, for the _voiture_ had returned. Would he point out the _cocher_
+to me? He would, and did, receiving a second franc for his pains.
+
+The cab driver proved to be a dull and surly fellow, like many another
+_cocher_ of Paris, but the clink of silver and the sight of it mellowed
+him. I began by saying that I was in search of three friends of mine
+whom I was to have met when the boat train came in, but whom I had
+unfortunately missed. I asked him to describe the men he had driven away
+from the station at that time, and though he did it clumsily, betraying
+an irritating lack of observation when it came to details, still such
+information as I could draw from him sounded encouraging. He remembered
+perfectly well the place at which he had deposited his three passengers,
+and I decided to take the risk of following them.
+
+When I say "risk," I mean the risk that the man I was starting to chase
+might turn out not to be the man I wished to follow. Besides, as they
+had been driven to Neuilly, the distance was so great that, if I went
+there in a cab, and found at last that I had made a mistake, I should
+have wasted a great deal of valuable time on the wrong tack. If the
+driver had remembered the name of the street, and the number of the
+house at which he had paused, I would have hired a motor and flashed out
+to the place in a few minutes; but, despite a suggested bribe, he could
+say no more than that, when he had come to a certain place, one of his
+passengers had called, "Turn down the next street, to the left." He had
+done so, and in front of a house, almost midway along that street, he
+had been bidden to stop. He had not bothered to look at the name of the
+street; but, though he was not very familiar with that neighbourhood,
+various landmarks would guide him to the right place, when he came to
+pass them again.
+
+Having heard all he had to say, I reluctantly made up my mind that I
+could do no better than take the man as my conductor; and accordingly,
+with a horse already tired, I drove to Neuilly. There, the landmarks
+were not deceiving, as I was half afraid they would be; and in a quiet
+street of the suburb, we stopped at last before a fair-sized house with
+lights in many windows. Evidently it was a _pension_.
+
+Of the man-servant who answered my ring, I enquired if three English
+gentlemen had lately arrived. He replied that they had, and were dining.
+Would Monsieur give himself the pain of waiting a few minutes, until
+dinner should be over?
+
+My answer was to slip a five franc piece into the servant's hand, and
+suggest that I should be shown at once into the dining-room, without
+waiting.
+
+My idea was to catch my birds while they fed, and take them by surprise,
+lest they fly away. If I pounced upon them in the midst of a meal, at
+least they could not escape before being recognised by me: and as to
+what should come after recognition, the moment of meeting must decide.
+
+The five franc piece worked like a charm. I was promptly ushered into
+the dining-room, and standing just inside the door, I swept the long
+table with a quick, eager glance. About eighteen or twenty people were
+dining, but, though several were unmistakably English, I saw no one who
+resembled my travelling companions.
+
+Everyone turned and stared. There was no face of which I had not a good
+view. In a low voice I asked the servant which were the new arrivals of
+whom he had spoken. He pointed them out, and added that, though they had
+come only that day from England, they were old patrons, well known in
+the house.
+
+As I lingered, deeply disappointed, the elderly proprietor of the
+_pension_, who superintended the comfort of his guests, trotted fussily
+up to enquire the stranger's business in his dining-room. I explained
+that I had hoped to find friends, and was so polite that I contrived to
+get permission for my cabman to have a peep through the crack of the
+door. When he had identified his three passengers, all hope was over. I
+had followed the wrong men.
+
+There was nothing to do but go back to the Gare du Nord, and question
+more porters and cabmen. Nobody could give me any information worth
+having, it seemed; yet the little man must have left the station in a
+vehicle of some sort, as he had a great deal of small luggage. Since I
+could learn nothing of him or his movements, however, and dared not,
+because of Maxine and the British Foreign Secretary, apply to the police
+for help, I determined to lose no more time before consulting a private
+detective, a man whose actions I could control, and to whom I need tell
+only as much of the truth as I chose, without fear of having the rest
+dragged out of me.
+
+At my own hotel I enquired of the manager where I could find a good
+private detective, got an address, and motored to it, the speed bracing
+my nerves. Fortunately, (as I thought then) Monsieur Anatole Girard was
+at home and able to receive me. I was shown into the plain but very neat
+little sitting-room of a flat on the fifth floor of a big new apartment
+house, and was impressed at first glance by the clever face of the dark,
+thin Frenchman who politely bade me welcome. It was cunning, as well as
+clever, no doubt: but then, I told myself, it was the business of a
+person in Monsieur Girard's profession to be cunning.
+
+I introduced myself as Mr. Sanford, the name I had been told to give at
+the Élysée Palace Hotel. This seemed best, as it was in the hotel that I
+had been recommended to Monsieur Girard, and complications might arise
+if George Sandford suddenly turned into Ivor Dundas. Besides, as there
+were a good many things which I did not want brought to light, Sandford
+seemed the man to fit the situation. Later, he could easily disappear
+and leave no trace.
+
+I said that I had been robbed of a thing which was of immense value to
+me, but as it was the gift of a lady whose name must not on any account
+appear in the case, I did not wish to consult the police. All I asked of
+Monsieur Girard's well-known ability was the discovery of the supposed
+thief, whom I thereupon described. I added the fact that we had
+travelled together, mentioned the incident at the gangway, and explained
+that I had not suspected my loss until I arrived at the Élysée Palace
+Hotel.
+
+Girard listened quietly, evidently realising that I talked to him from
+behind a screen of reserve, yet not seeking to force me to put aside
+that screen. He asked several intelligent questions, very much to the
+point, and I answered them--as seemed best. When he touched on points
+which I considered too delicate to be handled by a stranger, even a
+detective in my employ, I frankly replied that they had nothing to do
+with the case in hand. Shrugging his shoulders almost imperceptibly, yet
+expressively, he took my refusals without comment; and merely bowed when
+I said that, if the scoundrel could be unearthed within twenty-four
+hours, I would pay a hundred pounds: if within twelve, a hundred and
+fifty: if within six, two hundred. I added that there was not a second
+to waste, as the fellow might slip out of Paris at any minute; but
+whatever happened, Monsieur Girard was to keep the matter quiet.
+
+The detective promised to do his best, (which was said to be very good),
+held out hopes of success, and assured me of his discretion. On the
+whole, I was pleased with him. He looked like a man who thoroughly knew
+his business; and had it not been for the solemn warning of the Foreign
+Secretary, and the risk for Maxine, I would gladly have put more
+efficient weapons in Girard's hands, by telling him everything.
+
+By the time that the detective had been primed with such facts and
+details as I could give, it was past ten o'clock. I could see my way to
+do nothing more for the moment, and as I was half famished, I whizzed
+back in my hired automobile to the Élysée Palace Hotel. There I had food
+served in my own sitting-room, lest George Sandford should chance
+inconveniently upon some acquaintance of Ivor Dundas, in the restaurant.
+I did not hurry over the meal, for all I wanted now was to arrive at
+Maxine de Renzie's house at twelve o'clock, and tell her my news--or
+lack of news. She would be there waiting for me, I was sure, no matter
+how prompt I might be, for though in ordinary circumstances, after the
+first performance of a new play, either Maxine would have gone out to
+supper, or invited guests to sup with her, she would have accepted no
+invitation, given none, for to-night. She would hurry out of the
+theatre, probably without waiting to remove her stage make-up, and she
+would go home unaccompanied, except by her maid.
+
+Maxine lives in a charming little old-fashioned house, set back in its
+own garden, a great "find" in a good quarter of Paris; and her house
+could he reached in ten minutes' drive from my hotel. I would not go as
+far as the gate, but would dismiss my cab at the corner of the quiet
+street, as it would not he wise to advertise the fact that Mademoiselle
+de Renzie was receiving a visit from a young man at midnight. Fifteen
+minutes would give me plenty of time for all this: therefore, at about a
+quarter to twelve I started to go downstairs, and in the entrance hall
+almost ran against the last person on earth I expected to see--Diana
+Forrest.
+
+She was not alone, of course; but for a second or two I saw no one else.
+There was none other except her precious and beautiful face in the
+world; and for a wild instant I asked myself if she had come here to see
+me, to take back all her cruel words of misunderstanding, and to take me
+hack also. But it was only for an instant--a very mad instant.
+
+Then I realised that she couldn't have known I was to be at the Élysée
+Palace Hotel, and that even if she had, she would not have dreamed of
+coming to me. As common sense swept my brain clear, I saw near the
+precious and beautiful face other faces: Lady Mountstuart's, Lord
+Mountstuart's, Lisa Drummond's, and Bob West's.
+
+They were all in evening dress, the ladies in charming wraps which
+appeared to consist mostly of lace and chiffon, and evidently they had
+just come into the hotel from some place of amusement. The beautiful
+face, which had been pale, grew rosy at sight of me, though whether with
+amazement or anger, or both, I couldn't tell. Lisa smiled, looking more
+impish even than usual; but it was plain that the others, Lord
+Mountstuart among them, were surprised to see me here.
+
+"Goodness, is it you or your ghost?" exclaimed Lady Mountstuart, in the
+soft accents of California, which have never changed in spite of the
+long years of her married life in England.
+
+If it had been my ghost it would have vanished immediately, to save Di
+from embarrassment, and also to prevent any delay in getting to
+Maxine's. But, unfortunately, a flesh and blood young man must stop for
+conventional politeness before he can disappear, no matter what presses.
+
+I said "How do you do?" to everyone, adding that I was as surprised to
+see them as they could be to see me. I even grinned civilly at Lord
+Robert West, though finding him here with Di, looking particularly
+pleased with himself, made me want to knock him down.
+
+"Oh, it was a plan, as far as Mounty and Lord Robert and I are
+concerned," explained Lady Mountstuart. "Of course, Lord Robert ought to
+have been at the Duchess's bazaar this afternoon, but then he won't show
+up at such things, even to please his sister, and Di and Lisa were to
+have represented me there. To-day and to-morrow are the only days all
+three of us could possibly steal to get away and look at a most
+wonderful motor car; made for a Rajah who died before it was ready. Lord
+Robert certainly knows more about automobiles than any other human being
+does, and he thought this was just what I would want. Di had the most
+horrid headache this morning, poor child, and wasn't fit for the fatigue
+of a big crush, so, as she's a splendid sailor, I persuaded her to come
+with us--and Lisa, too, of course. We caught the afternoon train to
+Boulogne, and had such a glorious crossing that we actually all had the
+courage to dress and dine at Madrid--wasn't it plucky of us? But we're
+collapsing now, and have come back early, as we must inspect the car the
+first thing to-morrow morning and do a heap of shopping afterwards."
+
+"If you're collapsing, I mustn't keep you standing here a moment," I
+said, anxious for more than one reason to get away. Di wasn't looking at
+me. Half turned from me, purposely I didn't doubt, she had begun a
+conversation with Bob West, who beamed with joy over her kindness to him
+and her apparent indifference to me.
+
+"'Collapsing' is an exaggeration perhaps," laughed Lady Mountstuart.
+"But, instead of keeping us standing here, come up to our sitting-room
+and have a little talk--and whisky and soda."
+
+"Yes, do come, Dundas," her husband added.
+
+"Thank you both," I stammered, trying not to look embarrassed. "But--I
+know you're all tired, and--."
+
+"And perhaps you have some nice engagement," piped Lisa.
+
+"It's too late for respectable British young men to have engagements in
+naughty Paris," said Lady Mountstuart, laughing again (she looks very
+handsome when she laughs, and knows it). "Isn't that true, Mr. Dundas?"
+
+"It depends upon the engagement," I managed to reply calmly. But then,
+as Di suddenly turned and looked straight at me with marked coldness,
+the blood sprang up to my face. I began to stammer again like a young
+ass of a schoolboy. "I'm afraid that I--er--the fact is, I _am_ engaged.
+A matter of business. I wish I could get out of it, but I can't,
+and--er--I shall have to run off, or I will be late.
+Good-bye,--good-bye." Then I mumbled something about hoping to see them
+again before they left Paris, and escaped, knowing that I had made a
+horrid mess of my excuses. Di was laughing at something West said, as I
+turned away, and though perhaps his remark and her laugh had nothing to
+do with me, my ears burned, and there was a cold lump of iron, or
+something that felt like it, where my heart ought to have been.
+
+Now was Lord Robert's time to propose--now, when she believed me
+faithless and unworthy--if he but knew it. And I was afraid that he
+would know it.
+
+I got out into the open air, feeling half-dazed as one of the under
+porters called me a cab. I gave the name of a street in the direction,
+but at some distance from Maxine's, lest ears should hear which ought
+not to hear: and it was only when we were well away from the hotel that
+I amended my first instructions. Even then, I mentioned the street
+leading into the one where I was due, not the street itself.
+
+"_Depêchez vous_" I added, for I had delayed eight or ten minutes longer
+than I ought, and this had upset the exactness of my calculations. The
+man obeyed; nevertheless, instead of reaching the top of Maxine's street
+at two or three minutes before twelve, as I had intended, it was nearly
+ten minutes past when I got out of my cab at the corner: and when I came
+to the gate of the house a clock somewhere was striking the quarter hour
+after midnight.
+
+
+
+
+MAXINE DE RENZIE'S PART
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+MAXINE ACTS ON THE STAGE AND OFF
+
+How I got through the play on that awful night, I don't know.
+
+When I went onto the stage to take up my cue, soon after the beginning
+of the first act, my brain was a blank. I could not remember a single
+line that I had to say. I couldn't even see through the dazzling mist
+which floated before my eyes, to recognise Raoul in the box where I knew
+he would be sitting unless--something had happened. But presently I was
+conscious of one pair of hands clapping more than all the rest. Yes,
+Raoul was there. I felt his love reaching out to me and warming my
+chilled heart like a ray of sunshine that finds its way through shadows.
+I must not fail. For his sake, I must not fail. I never had failed, and
+I would not now--above all, not now.
+
+It was the thought of Raoul that gave me back my courage; and though I
+couldn't have said one word of my part before I came on the stage to
+answer that first cue, by the time the applause had died down enough to
+let me speak, each line seemed to spring into my mind as it was needed.
+Then I got out of myself and into the part, as I always do, but had
+feared not to do to-night. The audience was mine, to play with as I
+liked, to make laugh, to make cry, and clap its hands or shout
+"Brava-brava!"
+
+Yet for once I feared it, feared that great crowd of people out there,
+as a lion tamer must at some time or other fear one of his lions. "What
+if they know all I've done?" The question flashed across my brain. "What
+if a voice in the auditorium should suddenly shout that Maxine de Renzie
+had betrayed France for money, English money?" How these hands which
+applauded would tingle to seize me by the throat and choke my life out.
+
+Still, with these thoughts murmuring in my head like a kind of dreadful
+undertone, I went on. An actress can always go on--till she breaks. I
+think that she can't be bent, as other women can: and I envy the women
+who haven't had to learn the lesson of hardening themselves. It seems to
+me that they must suffer less.
+
+At last came the end of the first act. But there were five curtain
+calls. Five times I had to go back and smile, and bow, and look
+delighted with the ovation I was having. Then, when the time came that I
+could escape, I met on the way to my dressing-room men carrying big
+harps and crowns, baskets and bunches of flowers which had been sent up
+to me on the stage. I pushed past, hardly glancing at them, for I knew
+that Raoul would be waiting.
+
+There he was, radiant with his unselfish pride in me--my big, handsome
+lover, looking more like the Apollo Belvedere come alive and dressed in
+modern clothes than like an ordinary diplomatic young man from the
+Foreign Office. But then, of course, he is really quite out of place in
+diplomacy. Since he can't exist on a marble pedestal or some Old
+Master's canvas, he ought at least to be a poet or an artist--and so he
+is at heart; not one, but both; and a dreamer of beautiful dreams, as
+beautiful and noble as his own clear-cut face, which might be cold if it
+were not for the eyes, and lips.
+
+There were people about, and we spoke like mere acquaintances until I'd
+led Raoul into the little boudoir which adjoins my dressing-room.
+Then--well, we spoke no longer like mere acquaintances. That is enough
+to say. And we had five minutes together, before I was obliged to send
+him away, and go to dress for the second act.
+
+The touch of Raoul's hands, and those lips of his that are not cold,
+gave me strength to go through all that was yet to come. There's
+something almost magical in the touch--just a little, little touch--of
+the one we love best. For a moment we can forget everything else, even
+if it were death itself waiting just round the corner. I've flirted with
+more than one man, sometimes because I liked him and it amused me,--as
+with Ivor Dundas,--sometimes because I had to win him for politic
+reasons. But I never knew that blessed feeling until I met Raoul du
+Laurier. It was a heavenly rest now to lay my head for a minute on his
+shoulder, just shutting my eyes, without speaking a word.
+
+I thought--for I was worn out, body and soul, with the strain of keeping
+up and hiding my secret--that when I was dead the best paradise would be
+to lean so on Raoul's shoulder, never moving, for the first two or three
+hundred years of eternity. But as the peaceful fancy cooled my brain,
+back darted remembrance, like a poisonous snake. I reminded myself how
+little I deserved such a paradise, and how my lover's dear arms would
+put me away, in a kind of unbelieving horror, if he knew what I had
+done, and how I had betrayed his trust in me.
+
+For ten years I'd been a political spy--yes. But I owed a grudge to
+Russia, which I'd promised my father to pay: and France is Russia's
+ally. Besides, it seems less vile to betray a country than to deceive a
+man you adore, who adores you in return. We women are true as truth
+itself to those we love. For them we would sacrifice the greatest cause.
+Always I had known this, and I had thought that I could prove myself
+truer than the truest, if I ever loved. Yet now I had betrayed my lover
+and sold his country; and, realising what I had done, as I hardly had
+realised it till this moment, I suffered torture in his arms.
+
+Even if, by something like a miracle, we were saved from ruin, nothing
+on earth could wash the stain from my heart, which Raoul believed so
+good, so pure.
+
+What can be more terrible for a woman than the secret knowledge that to
+hold a man's respect she must always keep one dark spot covered from his
+eyes? Such a woman needs no future punishment. She has all she deserves
+in this world. My punishment had begun, and it would always go on
+through my life with Raoul, I knew, even if no great disaster came. Into
+the heart of my happiness would come the thought of that hidden spot;
+how often, oh, how often, would I feel that thought stir like a black
+bat!
+
+I could no longer rest with my eyes shut, at peace after the storm. I
+shuddered and sobbed, though my lids were dry, and Raoul tried to soothe
+me, thinking it was but my excitement in playing for the first time a
+heavy and exacting part. He little guessed how heavy and exacting it
+really was!
+
+"Darling," he said, "you were wonderful. And how proud I was of you--how
+proud I am. I thought it would be impossible to worship you more than I
+did. But I love you a thousand times more than ever to-night."
+
+It was true, I knew. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.
+Since his dreadful misfortune in losing the diamonds, since I had
+comforted him for their loss, and insisted on giving him all I had to
+help him out of his trouble, he had seen in me the angel of his
+salvation. To-night his heart was almost breaking with love for me, who
+so ill deserved it. Now, I had news for him, which would make him long
+to shout for joy. If I chose, I could tell him that the jewels were
+safe. He would love me still more passionately in his happiness, which I
+had given, than in his grief; and I would take all his love as if it
+were my right, hiding the secret of my treachery as long as I could. But
+how long would that be? How could I be sure that the theft of the treaty
+had not already been discovered, and that the avalanche of ruin was not
+on its way to blot us for ever out of life and love?
+
+The fear made me nestle nearer to him, and cling tightly, because I said
+to myself that perhaps I might never be in his arms again: that this
+might be the last time that his eyes--those eyes that are not
+cold--might look at me with love in them, as now.
+
+"Suppose all these people out there had hated and hissed me, instead of
+applauding?" I asked. "Would you still be proud of me, still care for
+me?"
+
+"I'd love you better, if there could be a 'better,'" he answered,
+holding me very close.
+
+"You know, dearest one, most beautiful one, that I'm a jealous brute. I
+can't bear you to belong to others--even to the public that appreciates
+you almost as much as you deserve to be appreciated. Of course I'm proud
+that they adore you, but I'd like to take you away from them and adore
+you all by myself. Why, if the whole world turned against you, there'd
+be a kind of joy in that for me. I'd be so glad of the chance to face it
+for you, to shield you from it always."
+
+"Then, what _is_ there would make you love me less?" I went on, dwelling
+on the subject with a dreadful fascination, as one looks over the brink
+of a precipice.
+
+"Nothing on God's earth--while you kept true to me."
+
+"And if I weren't true--if I deceived you?"
+
+"Why, I'd kill you--and myself after. But it makes me see red--a blazing
+scarlet--even to think of such a thing. Why should you speak of it--when
+it's beyond possibility, thank Heaven! I know you love me, or you
+wouldn't make such noble sacrifices to save me from ruin."
+
+I shivered: and I shall not be colder when they lay me in my coffin. I
+wished that I had not looked over that precipice, down into blackness.
+Why dwell on horrors, when I might have five minutes of happiness--perhaps
+the last I should ever know? I remembered the piece of good news I had
+for Raoul. I would have told him then, but he went on, saying to me so
+many things sweet and blessed to hear, that I could not bear to cut him
+short, lest never after this should he speak words of love to me.
+Then--long before it ought, so it seemed--the clock in mydressing-room
+struck, and I knew that I hadn't another instant to spare. On some first
+nights I might have been willing to risk keeping the curtain down
+(though I am rather conscientious in such ways), but to-night I wanted,
+more than anything else, to have the play over, and to get home by
+midnight or before, so that my suspense might be ended, and I might know
+the worst--or best.
+
+"I must go. You must leave me, dear," I said. "But I've some good news
+for you when there's time to explain, and a great surprise. I can't give
+you a minute until the last, for you know I've almost to open the third
+and fourth acts. But when the curtain goes down on my death scene, come
+behind again. I shan't take any calls--after dying, it's too inartistic,
+isn't it? And I never do. I'll see you for just a few more minutes here,
+in this room, before I dress to go home."
+
+"For a few minutes!" Raoul caught me up. "But afterwards? You promised
+me long ago that I should have supper with you at your house--just you
+and I alone together--on the first night of the new play."
+
+My heart gave a jump as he reminded me of this promise. Never before had
+I forgotten an engagement with Raoul. But this time I had forgotten.
+There had been so many miserable things to think of, that they had
+crowded the one pleasant thing out of my tortured brain. I drew away
+from him involuntarily with a start of surprise.
+
+"You'd forgotten!" exclaimed Raoul, disappointed and hurt.
+
+"Only for the instant," I said, "because I'm hardly myself. I'm tired
+and excited, unstrung, as I always am on first nights. But--"
+
+"Would you rather not be bothered with me?" he asked wistfully, as I
+paused to think what I should do.
+
+His eyes looked as if the light had suddenly gone out of them, and I
+couldn't bear that. It might too soon be struck out for ever, and by me.
+
+"Don't say 'bothered'!" I reproached him. "That's a cruel word. The
+question is--I'm worn out. I don't think I shall be able to eat supper.
+My maid will want to put me to bed, the minute I get home. Poor old
+Marianne! She's such a tyrant, when she fancies it's for my good. It,
+generally ends in my obeying her--seldom in her obeying me. But we'll
+see how I feel when the last act's over. We'll talk of it when you come
+here--after my death." I tried to laugh, as I made that wretched jest,
+but I was sorry when I made it, and my laugh didn't ring true. There was
+a shadow on Raoul's face--that dear, sensitive face of his which shows
+too much feeling for a man in this work-a-day, strenuous world--but I
+had little time to comfort him.
+
+"It will be like coming to life again, to see you," I said. "And now,
+good-bye! no, not good-bye, but _au revoir_."
+
+I sent him away, and flew into my dressing-room next door, where
+Marianne was growing very nervous, and aimlessly shifting my make-up
+things on the dressing table, or fussing with some part of my dress for
+the next act.
+
+"There's a letter for you, Mademoiselle," said she. "The stage-door
+keeper just brought it round. But you haven't time to read it now."
+
+A wave of faintness swept over me. Supposing Ivor had had bad news, and
+thought it best to warn me without delay?
+
+"I must read the letter," I insisted. "Give it to me at once."
+
+Occasionally Marianne (who has been with me for many years, and is old
+enough to be my mother) argues a matter on which we disagree: but
+something in my voice, I suppose, made her obey me with extraordinary
+promptness. Then came a shock--and not of relief. I recognised on the
+envelope the handwriting of Count Godensky.
+
+I know that I am not a coward. Yet it was only by the strongest effort
+of will that I forced myself to open that letter. I was afraid--afraid
+of a hundred things. But most of all, I was afraid of learning that the
+treaty was in his hands. It would be like him to tell me he had it, and
+try to drive some dreadful bargain.
+
+Nerving myself, as I suppose a condemned criminal must nerve himself to
+go to the guillotine or the gallows, I opened the letter. For as long as
+I might have counted "one, two," slowly, the paper looked black before
+my eyes, as if ink were spilt over it, blotting out the words: but the
+dark smudge cleared away, and showed me--nothing, except that, if Alexis
+Godensky held a trump card, I was not to have a sight of it until later,
+when he chose.
+
+    "MY DEAR MAXINE," [he began his letter, though he had never been
+    given the right to call me Maxine, and never had dared so to
+    call me before] "I must see you, and talk to you this evening,
+    alone. This for your own sake and that of another, even more
+    than mine, though you know very well what it is to me to be with
+    you. Perhaps you may be able to guess that this is important. I
+    am so sure that you _will_ guess, and that you will not only be
+    willing but anxious to see me to-night, if you never were
+    before, that I shall venture to be waiting for you at the stage
+    door when you come out.
+
+    "Yours, in whatever way you will,
+
+    "ALEXIS."
+
+If anything could have given me pleasure at that moment, it would have
+been to tear the letter in little pieces, with the writer looking on.
+Then to throw those pieces in his hateful face, and say, "That's your
+answer."
+
+But he was not looking on, and even if he had been I could not have done
+what I wished. He knew that I would have to consent to see him, that he
+need have no fear I would profit by my knowledge of his intentions, to
+order him sent away from the stage door. I would have to see him. But
+how could I manage it after refusing--as I must refuse--to let Raoul go
+home with me? Raoul was coming to me after my death scene on the stage.
+At the very least, he would expect to put me into my carriage when I
+left the theatre, even if he went no further. Yet there would be
+Godensky, waiting, and Raoul would see him. What could I do to escape
+from such an _impasse_?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+MAXINE GIVES BACK THE DIAMONDS
+
+I tried to answer the question, to decide something; but my brain felt
+dead. "I can't think now. I must trust to luck--trust to luck," I said
+to myself, desperately, as Marianne dressed me. "By and by I'll think it
+all out."
+
+But after that my part gave me no more time to think. I was not Maxine
+de Renzie, but Princess Hélène of Hungaria, whose tragic fate was even
+more sure and swift than miserable Maxine's. When Princess Hélène had
+died in her lover's arms, however (died as Maxine had not deserved to
+die), and I was able to pick up the tangled threads of my own life,
+where I'd laid them down, the questions were still crying out for
+answer, and must somehow be decided at once.
+
+First, there was Raoul to be put off and got out of the way--Raoul, my
+best beloved, whose help and protection I needed so much, yet must
+forego, and hurt him instead.
+
+The stage-door keeper had orders to let him "come behind," and so he was
+already waiting at the door of my little boudoir by the time Hélène had
+died, the curtain had gone down, and Maxine de Renzie had been able to
+leave the stage.
+
+As we went together into the room, he caught both my hands, crushing
+them tightly in his, and kissing them over and over again. But his face
+was pale and sad, and a new fear sprang up in my heart, like a sudden
+live flame among red ashes.
+
+"What is it, Raoul?--why do you look like that?" I asked; while inside
+my head another question sounded like a shriek. "What if some word had
+come to him in the theatre--about the treaty?"
+
+Then I could have cried as a child cries, with the snapping of the
+tension, when he answered: "It was only that terrible last scene,
+darling. I've seen you die in other parts. But it never affected me like
+this. Perhaps it's because you didn't belong to me in those days. Or is
+it that you were more realistic in your acting to-night than ever
+before? Anyway, it was awful--so horribly real. It was all I could do to
+sit still and not jump out of the box to save you. Prince Cyril was a
+poor chap not to thwart the villain. I should have killed him in the
+third act, and then Hélène might have been happily married, instead of
+dying."
+
+"I believe you would have killed him," I said.
+
+"I know I should. It's a mistake not to be jealous. I admit that I'm
+jealous. But such jealousy is a compliment to a woman, my dearest, not
+an insult."
+
+"How you feel things!" I exclaimed. "Even a play on the stage--"
+
+"If the woman I love is the heroine."
+
+"Will you ever be blasé, like the rest of the men I know?" I laughed,
+though I could have sobbed.
+
+"Never, I think. It isn't in me. Do you despise me for my enthusiasm?"
+
+"I only love you the more," I said, wondering every instant, in a kind
+of horrid undertone, how I was to get him away.
+
+"I admit I wasn't made for diplomacy," he went on. "I wish, I had money
+enough to get out of it and take you off the stage, away into some
+beautiful, peaceful world, where we need think of nothing but our love
+for each other, and the good we might do others because of our love, and
+to keep our world beautiful. Would you go with me?"
+
+"Ah, if I could!" I sighed. "If I could go with you to-morrow, away into
+that beautiful, peaceful world. But-who knows? Meanwhile--"
+
+"Meanwhile, you don't mean to send me away from you?" he pleaded, in a
+coaxing way he has, which is part of his charm, and makes him seem like
+a boy. "You don't know what it is, after that scene of your death on the
+stage, where I couldn't get to you--where another man was your lover--to
+touch you again, alive and warm, your own adorable, vivid self. You
+_will_ let me go home with you, in your carriage, anyhow as far as the
+house, and kiss you good-night there, even if you're so tired you must
+drive me out then?"
+
+I would have given all my success of that night, and more, to say "yes."
+But instead I had to stumble into excuses. I had to argue that we
+mustn't be seen leaving the theatre together--yet, until everyone knew
+that we were engaged. As for letting him come to me at home, if he
+dreamt how my head ached, he wouldn't ask it. I almost broke down as I
+said this; and poor Raoul was so sorry for me that he immediately
+offered to leave me at once.
+
+"It's a great sacrifice, though, to give up what I've been looking
+forward to for days," he said, "and to let you go from me to-night of
+all nights."
+
+"Why to-night of all nights?", I asked quickly, my coward conscience
+frightening me again.
+
+"Only because I love you more than ever, and--it's a stupid feeling, of
+course, I suppose all the fault of that last scene in the play--yet I
+feel as if--But no, I don't want to say it."
+
+"You must say it," I cried.
+
+"Well, if only to hear you contradict me, then. I feel as if I were in
+danger of losing you. It's just a feeling--a weight on my heart. Nothing
+more. Rather womanish, isn't it?"
+
+"Not womanish, but foolish," I said. "Shake off the feeling, as one
+wakes up from a nightmare. Think of to-morrow. Meeting then will be all
+the sweeter." As I spoke, it was as if a voice echoed mine, saying
+different words mockingly. "If there be any meeting--to-morrow, or
+ever."
+
+I shut my ears to the voice, and went on quickly:
+
+"Before we say good-bye, I've something to show you--something you'll
+like very much. Wait here till I get it from the next room."
+
+Marianne was tidying my dressing-room for the night, bustling here and
+there, a dear old, comfortable, dependable thing. She was delighted with
+my success, which she knew all about, of course; but she was not in the
+least excited, because she had loyally expected me to succeed, and would
+have thought the sky must be about to fall if I had failed. She was as
+placid as she was on other, less important nights, far more placid than
+she would have been if she had known that she was guarding not only my
+jewellery, but a famous diamond necklace, worth at least five hundred
+thousand francs.
+
+There it was, under the lowest tray of my jewel box. I had felt
+perfectly safe in leaving it there, for I knew that nothing on
+earth--short of a bomb explosion--could tempt the good creature out of
+my dressing-room in my absence, and that even if a bomb did explode, she
+would try to be blown up with my jewel box clutched in her hands.
+
+Saying nothing to Marianne, who was brushing a little stage dust off my
+third act dress, with my back to her I took out tray after tray from the
+box (which always came with us to the theatre and went away again in my
+carriage) until the electric light over the dressing table set the
+diamonds on fire.
+
+Really, I said to myself, they were wonderful stones. I had no idea how
+magnificent they were. Not that there were a great many of them. The
+necklace was composed of a single row of diamonds, with six flat tassels
+depending from it. But the smallest stones at the back, where the clasp
+came, were as large as my little finger nail, and the largest were
+almost the size of a filbert. All were of perfect colour and fire,
+extraordinarily deep and faultlessly shaped, as well as flawless.
+Besides, the necklace had a history which would have made it interesting
+even if it hadn't been intrinsically of half its value.
+
+With the first thrill of pleasure I had felt since I knew that the
+treaty had disappeared I lifted the beautiful diamonds from the box, and
+slipped them into a small embroidered bag of pink and silver brocade
+which lay on the table. It was a foolish but pretty little bag, which a
+friend had made and sent to me at the theatre a few nights ago, and was
+intended to carry a purse and handkerchief. But I had never used it yet.
+Now it seemed a convenient receptacle for the necklace, and I suddenly
+planned out my way of giving it to Raoul.
+
+At first, earlier in the evening, I had meant to put the diamonds in his
+hands and say, "See what I have for you!" But now I had changed my mind,
+because he must be induced to go away as quickly as possible--quite,
+quite away from the theatre, so that there would be no danger of his
+seeing Count Godensky at the stage door. I was not sorry that Raoul was
+jealous, because, as he said, his jealousy was a compliment to me; and
+it is possible only for a cold man never to be jealous of a woman in my
+profession, who lives in the eyes of the world. But I did not want him
+to be jealous of the Russian; and he would be horribly jealous, if he
+thought that he had the least cause.
+
+If I showed him the diamonds now, he would want to stop and talk. He
+would ask me questions which I would rather not answer until I'd seen
+Ivor Dundas again, and knew better what to say--whether truth or
+fiction. Still, I wished Raoul to have the necklace to-night, because it
+would mean all the difference to him between constant, gnawing anxiety,
+and the joy of deliverance. Let him have a happy night, even though I
+was sending him away, even though I did not know what to-morrow might
+bring, either for him or for me.
+
+I tied the gold cords of the bag in two hard knots, and went out with it
+to Raoul in the next room.
+
+"This holds something precious," I said, smiling at him, and making a
+mystery. "You'll value the something, I know--partly for itself, partly
+because I--because I've been at a lot of trouble to get it for you. When
+you see it, you'll be more resigned not to see me--just for tonight. But
+you're to write me a letter, please, and describe accurately every one
+of your sensations on opening the bag. Also, you may say in your letter
+a few kind things about me, if you like. And I want it to come to me
+when I first wake up to-morrow morning. So go now, dearest, and have the
+sensations, and write about them. I shall be thinking of you every
+minute, asleep or awake."
+
+"Why mayn't I look now?" asked Raoul, taking the soft mass of pink and
+silver from me, in the nice, clumsy way a big man has of handling a
+woman's things.
+
+"Because--just _because_. But perhaps you'll guess why, by and by," I
+said. Then I held up my face to be kissed, and he bundled the small bag
+away in an inside pocket of his coat, as carelessly as if it held
+nothing but a handkerchief and a pair of gloves.
+
+"Be careful!" I couldn't help exclaiming. But I don't think he heard,
+for he had me in his arms and was kissing me as if he knew the fear in
+my heart--the fear that it might be for the last time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+MAXINE DRIVES WITH THE ENEMY
+
+When Raoul was gone I made Marianne hurry me out of the cloth-of-gold
+and filmy tissue in which the unfortunate Princess Hélène had died, and
+into the black gown in which the almost equally unfortunate Maxine had
+come to the theatre. I did not even stop to take off my make-up, for
+though the play was an unusually short one, and all the actors and
+actresses had followed my example of prompt readiness for all four acts,
+it lacked twenty minutes of twelve when I was dressed. I had to see
+Count Godensky, get rid of him somehow, and still be in time to keep my
+appointment with Ivor Dundas, for which I knew he would strain every
+nerve not to be late.
+
+My electric carriage would be at the stage door, and my plan was to
+speak to Godensky, if he were waiting, if possible learn in a moment or
+two whether he had really found out the truth, and then act accordingly.
+But if I could avoid it, I meant, in any case, to put off a long
+conversation until later.
+
+I had drawn my veil down before walking out of the theatre, yet Godensky
+knew me at once, and came forward. Evidently he had been watching the
+door.
+
+"Good-evening," he said. "A hundred congratulations."
+
+He put out his hand, and I had to give him mine, for my chauffeur and
+the stage-door keeper (to say nothing of Marianne, who followed me
+closely), and several stage-carpenters, with other employés of the
+theatre, were within seeing and hearing distance. I wanted no gossip,
+though that was exactly what might best please Count Godensky.
+
+"I got your note," I answered, in Russian, though he had spoken in
+French. "What is it you want to see me about?"
+
+"Something that can't be told in a moment," he said. "Something of great
+importance."
+
+"I'm very tired," I sighed. "Can't it wait until to-morrow?"
+
+I tried to "draw" him, and to a certain extent, I succeeded.
+
+"You wouldn't ask that question, if you guessed what--I know," he
+replied.
+
+Was it a bluff, or did he know--not merely suspect--something?
+
+"I don't understand you," I said quietly, though my lips were dry.
+
+"Shall I mention the word--_document?_" he hinted. "Really, I'm sure you
+won't regret it if you let me drive home with you, Mademoiselle."
+
+"I can't do that," I answered. "And I can't take you into my carriage
+here. But I'll stop for you, and wait at the corner Rue Eugène
+Beauharnais. Then you can go with me until I think it best for you to
+get out."
+
+"Very well," he agreed. "But send your maid home in a cab; I can not
+talk before her."
+
+"Yes, you can. She knows no language except French--and a little
+English. She always drives home with me."
+
+This was true. But if I had been talking to Raoul, I would perhaps have
+given the dear old woman her first experience of being sent off by
+herself. In that case, she would not have minded, for she likes Raoul,
+admires him as a "dream of a young man," and already suspected what I
+hadn't yet told her--that we were engaged. But with Count Godensky
+forced upon me as a companion, I would not for any consideration have
+parted with Marianne.
+
+Three or four minutes after starting I was giving instructions to my
+chauffeur where to stop, and almost immediately afterwards Godensky
+appeared. He got in and took the place at my left, Marianne, silent, but
+doubtless astonished, facing us on the little front seat.
+
+"Now," I exclaimed. "Please begin quickly."
+
+"Don't force me to be too abrupt," he said. "I would spare you if I
+could. You speak as if you grudged me every moment with you. Yet I am
+here because I love you."
+
+"Oh, please, Monsieur!" I broke in. "You know I've told you that is
+useless."
+
+"But everything is changed since then. Perhaps now, even your mind will
+be changed. That happens with women sometimes. I want to warn you of a
+great danger that threatens you, Maxine. Perhaps, late as it is, I could
+save you from it if you'd let me."
+
+"Save me from what?" I asked temporising. "You're very mysterious, Count
+Godensky. And I'm Mademoiselle de Renzie except to my very intimate
+friends."
+
+"I am your friend, always. Maybe you will even permit me to speak of
+myself as your 'intimate friend' when I have done what I hope to do for
+you in--in the matter of a certain document which has disappeared."
+
+I was quivering all over. But I had not lost hope yet; I think that some
+women, feeling as I did, would have fainted. But it would have been
+better for me to die and be out of my troubles for ever, than to let
+myself faint and show Godensky that he had struck home.
+
+"Be quiet. Be cool. Be brave now, if never again," I said to myself. And
+my voice sounded perfectly natural as I exclaimed: "Oh, the 'document'
+again. The one you spoke about when we first met to-night. You rouse my
+curiosity. But I don't in the least know what you mean."
+
+"The loss of it is known," he said.
+
+"Ah, it's a lost document?"
+
+"As you will be lost, Maxine, if you don't come to me for the help I'm
+only too glad to give--on conditions. Let me tell you what they are."
+
+"Wouldn't it be more to the point if you told me what the document is,
+and how it concerns me?" I parried him, determined to bring him to bay.
+
+"Aren't _you_ evading the point far more than I? The document--which you
+and I can both see as plainly before our eyes at this instant as though
+it were in--let us say your hands, or--du Laurier's, if he were
+here--that document is far too important even to name within hearing of
+other ears."
+
+"Marianne's? But I told you she can't understand a word of Russian."
+
+"One can't be sure. We can never tell, in these days, who may not be--a
+spy."
+
+There was a stab for me! But I would not give him the satisfaction of
+showing that it hurt. He wanted to confuse me, to put me off my guard;
+but he should not.
+
+"They say one judges others by one's self," I laughed. "Count Godensky,
+if you throw out such lurid hints about my poor, fat Marianne, I shall
+begin to wonder if it's not _you_ who are the spy!"
+
+"Since you trust your woman so implicitly, then," he went on, "I'll tell
+you what you want to know. The document I speak of is the one you took
+out of the Foreign Office the other day, when you called on
+your--friend, Monsieur le Vicomte du Laurier."
+
+"Dear me!" I exclaimed. "You say you want to be my friend, yet you seem
+to think I am a kleptomaniac. I can't imagine what I should want with
+any dry old document out of the Foreign Office, can you?"
+
+"Yes, I can imagine," said Godensky drily.
+
+"Pray tell me then. Also what document it was. For, joking apart, this
+is rather a serious accusation."
+
+"If I make any accusation, it's less against you than du Laurier."
+
+"Oh, you make an accusation against him. Why do you make it to me?"
+
+"As a warning."
+
+"Or because you don't dare make it to anyone else."
+
+"Dare! I haven't accused him thus far, because to do so would brand your
+name with his."
+
+"Ah!" I said. "You are very considerate."
+
+"I don't pretend to be considerate--except of myself. I've waited, and
+held my hand until now, because I wanted to see you before doing a thing
+which would mean certain ruin for du Laurier. I love you as much as I
+ever did; even more, because, in common with most men, I value what I
+find hard to get. To-night I ask you again to marry me. Give me a
+different answer from that you gave me before, and I'll be silent about
+what I know."
+
+"What you know of the document you mentioned?" I asked, my heart
+drumming an echo of its beating in my ears.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But--I thought you said that its loss was already discovered?" (Oh, I
+was keeping myself well under control, though a mistake now would surely
+cost me more than I dared count!)
+
+For half a second he was taken aback, at a loss what answer to make.
+Half a second--no more; yet that hardly perceptible hesitation told me
+what I had been playing with him to find out.
+
+"Discovered by me," he explained. "That is, by me and one person over
+whom I have such an influence that he will use his knowledge, or--forget
+it, according to my advice."
+
+"There is no such person," I said to myself. But I didn't say it aloud.
+Quickly I named over in my mind such men in the French Foreign Office as
+were in a position to discover the disappearance of any document under
+Raoul du Laurier's charge. There were several who might have done so,
+some above Raoul in authority, some below; but I was certain that not
+one of them was an intimate friend of Count Godensky's. If he had
+suspected anything the day he met me coming out of the Foreign Office he
+might, of course, have hinted his suspicions to one of those men (though
+all along I'd believed him too shrewd to risk the consequences, the
+ridicule and humiliation of a mistake): but if he had spoken, it would
+be beyond his power to prevent matters from taking their own course,
+independent of my decisions and his actions.
+
+I believed now that what I had hoped was true. He was "bluffing." He
+wanted me to flounder into some admission, and to make him a promise in
+order to save the man I loved. I was only a woman, he'd argued, no
+doubt--an emotional woman, already wrought up to a high pitch of nervous
+excitement. Perhaps he had expected to have easy work with me. And I
+don't think that my silence after his last words discouraged him. He
+imagined me writhing at the alternative of giving up Raoul or seeing him
+ruined, and he believed that he knew me well enough to be sure what I
+would do in the end.
+
+"Well?" he said at last, quite gently.
+
+My eyes had been bent on my lap, but I glanced suddenly up at him, and
+saw his face in the light of the street lamps as we passed. Count
+Godensky is not more Mephistophelian in type than any other dark, thin
+man with a hook nose, keen eyes, heavy browed; a prominent chin and a
+sharply waxed, military moustache trained to point upward slightly at
+the ends. But to my fancy he looked absolutely devilish at that moment.
+Still, I was less afraid of him than I had been since the day I stole
+the treaty.
+
+"Well," I said slowly, "I think it's time that you left me now."
+
+"That's your answer? You can't mean it."
+
+"I do mean it, just as much as I meant to refuse you the three other
+times that you did me the same honour. You asked me to hear what you had
+to say to-night, and I have heard it; so there's no reason why I
+shouldn't press the electric bell for my chauffeur to stop, and--"
+
+"Do you know that you're pronouncing du Laurier's doom, to say nothing
+of your own?"
+
+"No. I don't know it."
+
+"Then I haven't made myself clear enough."
+
+"That's true. You haven't made yourself clear enough."
+
+"In what detail have I failed? Because--".
+
+"In the detail of the document. I've told you I know nothing about it.
+You've told me you know everything. Yet--"
+
+"So I do."
+
+"Prove that by saying what it is--to satisfy my curiosity."
+
+"I've explained why I can't do that--here."
+
+"Then why should you stay here longer, since that is the point, to my
+mind. You understood before you came into my carriage that I had no
+intention of letting you go all the way home with me."
+
+Count Godensky suddenly laughed. And the laugh frightened me--frightened
+me horribly, just as I had begun to have confidence in myself, and feel
+that I had got the best of the game.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+MAXINE OPENS THE GATE FOR A MAN
+
+"You are afraid that du Laurier may find out," he said. "But he knows
+already."
+
+"Knows what?"
+
+"That I expected to have the privilege of going to your house with you."
+
+All that I had gained seemed worthless. Those quiet, sneering words of
+his almost crushed me. On the load I had struggled to bear without
+falling they laid one feather too much.
+
+My voice broke. "You--devil!" I cried at him. "You dared to tell Raoul
+that?"
+
+Opposite, on her narrow little seat, Marianne stirred uneasily. Till now
+our tones had been quiet, and she could not understand one word we said.
+She is the soul of discretion and a triumph of good training in her walk
+of life; but she loves me more than she loves any other creature on
+earth, and now she could see and hear that the man had driven me to the
+brink of hysterics. She would have liked to tear his face with her
+nails, or choke him, I think. If I had given her the word, I believe she
+would have tried with all her strength--which is not small--and a very
+good will, to kill him. I was dimly conscious of what her restlessness
+meant, and vaguely comforted too, by the thought of her supreme loyalty.
+But I forgot Marianne when Godensky answered my question.
+
+"Yes, I told him. It was the truth. And I've always understood that you
+made a great point of never doing anything which you considered in the
+least risqué. So why should I suppose you would rather du Laurier didn't
+know? You might already have mentioned it to him."
+
+"He wouldn't believe you!" I exclaimed, desperately. And my only hope
+was that I might be right.
+
+"As a matter of fact, he didn't seem to at first, so I at once
+understood that you hadn't spoken of our appointment. But it was too
+late to atone for my carelessness, and I did the next best thing:
+justified my veracity. I suggested that, if he didn't take my word for
+it, he might stand where he could see us speaking together at the stage
+door, and--"
+
+"Ah, I am glad of that!" I cut in. "Then he saw that we didn't drive
+away together."
+
+"You jump at conclusions, just like less clever women. I hardly thought
+you'd receive me into your carriage at the theatre, so I took the
+precaution of warning du Laurier that he needn't expect to see that. You
+would suggest a place for me to meet you, I said. When I knew it, I
+would inform him if he chose to wait about somewhere for a few minutes."
+
+"Raoul du Laurier would scorn to spy upon me!" I broke out.
+
+"How hard you are on spies. And how little knowledge of human nature you
+have, after all, if you don't understand that a man suddenly out of his
+head with jealousy will do things of which he'd be incapable when he was
+sane."
+
+The argument silenced me. I knew--I had known for a long time--that
+jealousy could rouse a demon in Raoul. And only to-night he had reminded
+me that he was a "jealous brute." I remembered what answer he had made
+when I asked him what he would do if I deceived him. He said that he
+would kill me, and kill himself after. As he spoke, the blood had
+streamed up to his forehead, and streamed back again, leaving him pale.
+A flash like steel had shot out of his eyes--the dear eyes that are not
+cold. It was true, as this cruel wretch reminded me, Raoul would do
+things under the torture of jealousy that he would cut off his hand
+sooner than do when his own, sweet, poet-nature was in ascendancy.
+
+"As a proof of what I say," Godensky went on, "du Laurier did wait, did
+hear from me the place where you were to stop and pick me up. And if it
+wouldn't be the worst of form to bet, I'd bet that he found some way of
+getting there in time to see that I had told the truth."
+
+"You coward!" I stammered.
+
+"On the contrary, a brave man. I've heard that du Laurier is a fine
+shot, and that very few men in Paris can touch him with the foils. So
+you see--"
+
+"You want to frighten me!" I exclaimed.
+
+"You misjudge me in every way."
+
+My only answer was to tell Marianne to press the button which gives the
+signal for my chauffeur to stop. Instantly the electric carriage slowed
+down, then came to a standstill. My man opened the door and Count
+Godensky submitted to my will. Nevertheless, he was far from being in a
+submissive mood, as I did not need to be reminded by the tone of his
+voice when he said "au revoir."
+
+Nothing could have been more polite than the words or his way of
+speaking them, as he stood in the street with his hat in his hand. But
+to me they meant a threat, and as a threat they were intended.
+
+My talk with Godensky at the stage door, my pause to pick him up, and my
+second pause to set him down, had all taken time, of which I had had
+little enough at the starting, if I were to meet Ivor Dundas when he
+arrived. It was two or three minutes after midnight, or so my watch
+said, when we drew up before the gate of my high-walled garden in the
+quiet Rue d'Hollande.
+
+A little while ago I had been ready to seize upon almost any expedient
+for keeping Raoul away from my house to-night, but now, after what I had
+just heard from Godensky, I prayed to see him waiting for me.
+
+Nobody (except Ivor, concerning whom I'd given orders) would be let in
+so late at night, during my absence, not even Raoul himself; so if he
+had come to reproach me, or break with me, he would have to stand
+outside the locked gate till I appeared. I looked for him longingly, but
+he was not there. There was, to be sure, a motor brougham in the street,
+for a wonder (usually the Rue d'Hollande is as empty as a desert, after
+eleven o'clock), but a girl's face peered out at me from the window--an
+impish, curiously abnormal little face it was--extinguishing the spark
+of hope that sprang to life as I caught sight of the carriage.
+
+It was standing before the closed gate of a house almost opposite mine,
+and the girl seemed somewhat interested in me; but I was not at all
+interested in her, and I hate being stared at as if I were something in
+a museum.
+
+The gate is always kept locked at night, when I'm at the theatre; but
+Marianne has the key, and we let ourselves in when we come, for only old
+Henri sits up, and he is growing a little deaf. A moment, and we were
+inside, the chauffeur spinning away to the garage.
+
+Usually I am newly delighted every night with my quaint old house and
+its small, but pretty garden, to which it seems delightful to come home
+after hours of hard work at the theatre. But to-night, though a cheerful
+light shone out from between the drawn curtains of the salon, the place
+looked inexpressibly dreary, even forbidding, to me. I felt that I hated
+the house, though I had chosen it after a long search for peacefulness
+and privacy. How gloomy, how dead, was the street beyond the high wall,
+with all its windows closed like the eyes of corpses. There was a moist,
+depressing smell of earth after long-continued rains, in the garden. No
+wonder the place had been to let at a bargain, for a long term! There
+had been a murder in it once, and it had stood empty for twelve or
+thirteen of the fifteen years since the almost forgotten tragedy. I had
+been the tenant for two years now--before I became a "star," with a
+theatre of my own in Paris. I had had no fear of the ghost said to haunt
+the house. Indeed, I remembered thinking, and saying, that the story
+only made the place more interesting. But now I said to myself that I
+wished I had never spoken so lightly. Perhaps the ghost had brought me
+bad luck. I felt as if the murder must have happened on just such a
+still, brooding, damp night as this. Maybe it was the anniversary, if I
+only knew.
+
+I went indoors, Marianne following. Henri, very thin, very precise,
+withered like a winter apple, had fallen into a doze in the hall, where
+he had sat, hoping to hear the stopping of my carriage. He rose up,
+bowing and blinking, just as he had done often before, and would often
+again--if life were to go on for me in the old way. He regretted not
+having heard Mademoiselle. Would Mademoiselle take supper?
+
+No, Mademoiselle would not take supper. She wanted nothing, and Henri
+might go to bed.
+
+"I thank Mademoiselle. When I have closed the house."
+
+"But I don't want the house closed," I said. "I shall sit up for awhile.
+It's hot--close and stuffy. I may like to have the windows open."
+
+"The visitor Mademoiselle expected did not arrive. Perhaps--"
+
+"If he comes, Marianne or I will let him in. But he may not come, now it
+is so late."
+
+When Henri had gone, I told Marianne that she might go, too. I did not
+want her to wait. If the person I had expected should call, it was a
+very old friend; in fact, Mr. Ivor Dundas, whom Marianne must remember
+in London. He was to call--if he did call--only on a matter of business,
+which would take but a few minutes to get through, and possibly he would
+not even come into the house. If the gate-bell rang, I would answer it
+myself, and speak with Mr. Dundas, perhaps in the garden. Then I would
+let him out and come straight upstairs. Marianne might go to bed if she
+wished.
+
+"I do not wish, unless Mademoiselle particularly desires me to do so,"
+said she. "I do not rest well when I have not been allowed to undress
+Mademoiselle."
+
+"Sit up, then, in your own room, and wait there for me till I ring for
+you," I replied. "I shan't be late, whether Mr. Dundas comes or doesn't
+come."
+
+"Supposing the gate-bell should ring, and Mademoiselle should go, yet it
+should not be the Monsieur she expects, but another person whom she
+would not care to admit?"
+
+I knew of what she was thinking, and of whom.
+
+"There's no fear of that. No fear of any kind," I answered.
+
+She took off my cloak, and went upstairs reluctantly, carrying my jewel
+box.
+
+I walked into the drawing-room, which was lighted and looked very bright
+and charming, with its many flowers and framed photographs, and the
+delightful Louis Quinze furniture, which I had so enjoyed picking up
+here and there at antique shops or at private sales.
+
+I flung myself on the sofa, but I could not rest. In a moment I was up
+again, moving about, looking at the clock, comparing it with my watch,
+wondering what could have happened to make Ivor fail in keeping his
+promise to be prompt on the hour of twelve.
+
+Of course, a hundred harmless things might have kept him, but I thought
+only of the worst, and was working myself up to a frenzy when at last I
+heard the gate-bell. I had been in the house no more than twelve or
+fourteen minutes, but it seemed an hour, and I gave a sob of relief as I
+rushed out, down the garden path, to let my visitor in.
+
+Fumbling a little at the lock, always a little difficult if one were in
+a hurry, I asked myself what if, as Marianne had suggested, it were not
+Ivor Dundas, but someone else--Raoul, perhaps--or the man who had been
+in her mind: Godensky.
+
+But it was Ivor.
+
+"What news?" I questioned him, my voice sounding queer and far away in
+my own ears.
+
+"I don't know whether you'll call it news or not, though plenty of
+things have happened. I'm awfully sorry to be late--"
+
+I wouldn't let him finish, standing there, but took him by the arm and
+drew him into the garden, pushing the gate shut behind him as I did so.
+Yet I forgot to lock it, and naturally it did not occur to Ivor that it
+ought to be fastened.
+
+Once inside, in the garden, I was going to make him begin again, as I
+had told Marianne I would. But suddenly I bethought myself that he might
+have been followed; that there might be watchers behind that high wall,
+watchers who would try to be listeners too, and whose ears would be very
+different from old Henri's. "Come into the house," I said, in a low
+voice, "before you begin to tell anything." Then, when we were inside, I
+could not even wait for him to go on of his own accord and in his own
+way.
+
+"The treaty?" I asked. "Have you got hold of it?"
+
+"Unfortunately, no."
+
+"But you've heard of it? Oh, _say_ you've heard something!"
+
+"If I haven't, it isn't because I've sat down and waited for news to
+come. I went back to the Gare du Nord after you left me, to try and get
+on the track of the men who travelled with me in the train to Dover. But
+I was sent off on the wrong scent, and wasted a lot of time, worse
+luck--I'll tell you about it later, if you care to hear details. Then,
+when that game was up, I did what I wish I'd done at first, found out
+and consulted a private detective, said to be one of the best in
+Paris--"
+
+"You told your story--_my_ story--to a detective?" I gasped.
+
+"No. Certainly not. I said I'd lost something of value, given me by a
+lady whose name I couldn't bring into the affair. I was George Sandford,
+too, not Mr. Dundas. I described my travelling companions, telling all
+that happened on the way, and offered big pay if he could find them
+quickly--especially the little fellow. He held out hopes of spotting
+them to-night, so don't be desperate, my poor girl. The detective chap
+seemed really to think he'd not have much difficulty in tracking down
+our man; and even if he's parted with the treaty, we can find out what
+he's done with it, no doubt. Girard says--"
+
+"Girard!" I caught Ivor up. "Is your detective's name Anatole Girard,
+and does he live in Rue du Capucin Blanc?"
+
+"Yes. Do you know him?"
+
+"I know too much of him," I answered bitterly.
+
+"Isn't he clever, after all?"
+
+"Far too clever. I'd rather you had gone to any other detective in
+Paris--or to none."
+
+"Why, what's wrong with him?" Ivor began to be distressed.
+
+"Only that he's a personal friend of my worst enemy--the man I spoke of
+to you this evening--Count Godensky. I've heard so from Godensky
+himself, who mentioned the acquaintance once when Girard had just
+succeeded in a case everybody was talking about."
+
+"By Jove, what a beastly coincidence!" exclaimed Ivor, horribly
+disappointed at having done exactly the wrong thing, when he had tried
+so hard to do the right one. "Yet how could I have dreamed of it?"
+
+"You couldn't," I admitted, hopelessly. "Nothing is your fault. All
+that's happened would have happened just the same, no matter what
+messenger the Foreign Secretary had sent to me. It's fate. And it's my
+punishment."
+
+"Still, even if Godensky and Girard are friends," Ivor tried to console
+me, "it isn't likely that the Count has talked to the detective about
+you and the affair of the treaty."
+
+"He may have gone to him for help in finding out things he couldn't find
+out himself."
+
+"Hardly, I should say, until there'd been time for him to fear failure.
+No, the chances are that Girard will have no inner knowledge of the
+matter I've put into his hands; and if he's a man of honour, he's bound
+to do the best he can for me, as his employer. Have you seen du
+Laurier?"
+
+"Yes. At the theatre. Nothing bad had happened to him yet; but that
+brute Godensky has made dreadful mischief between us. If only I'd known
+that you would be so late, I might have explained everything to him."
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Ivor, so humbly and so sadly that I pitied him
+(but not half as much as I pitied myself, even though I hadn't forgotten
+that hint he had let drop about a great sacrifice--a girl he loved, whom
+he had thrown over, somehow, to come to me). "I made every effort to be
+in time. It seems a piece with the rest of my horrible luck to-day that
+I was prevented. I hope, at least, that du Laurier knows about the
+necklace?"
+
+"He does, by this," I answered. "Yet I'm afraid he won't be in a mood to
+take much comfort from it--thanks to that wretch. You know Raoul hasn't
+a practical bone in his body. He will think I've deceived him, and
+nothing else will matter. I must--" But I broke off, and laid my hand on
+Ivor's arm. "What's that?" I whispered. "Did you hear anything then?"
+
+Ivor shook his head. And we both listened.
+
+"It's a step outside, on the gravel path," said I, my heart beginning to
+knock against my side. "I forgot to lock the gate. Somebody has come
+into the garden. What if it should be Raoul--what if he has seen our
+shadows on the curtain?"
+
+Mechanically we moved apart, Ivor making a gesture to reassure me, on
+account of the position of the lights. He was right. Our shadows
+couldn't have fallen on the curtain.
+
+As we stood listening, there came a knock at the front door. It was
+Raoul's knock. I was sure of that.
+
+If only Ivor had arrived a quarter of an hour earlier, at the time
+appointed, I should have hurried him away before this, so that I might
+write to Raoul; but now I could not think what to do for the best--what
+to do, that things might not be made far worse instead of better between
+Raoul and me. I had suffered so much that my power of quick decision, on
+which I'd so often prided myself vaingloriously, seemed gone.
+
+"It is Raoul," I said. "What shall I do?"
+
+"Let him in, of course, and introduce me. Don't act as if you were
+afraid. Say that I came to see you on important business concerning a
+friend of yours in England, and had to call after the theatre because
+I'm leaving Paris by the first train in the morning."
+
+"No use."
+
+"Why not? When a man loves a woman, he trusts her."
+
+"No man of Latin blood, I think. And Raoul's already angry. He has the
+right to be--or would have, if Godensky had been telling him the truth.
+And I refused to let him come here. I said I was going straight to bed,
+I was so tired. He's knocking again. Hide yourself, and I'll let him in.
+Oh, _why_ do you stand there, looking at me like that? Go into that
+room," and I pointed, then pushed him towards the door. "You can get
+through the window and out of the garden--softly--while Raoul and I are
+talking."
+
+"If you insist," said Ivor. "But you're wrong. The best thing--"
+
+"Go--go, I tell you. Don't argue. I know best," I cut him short, in a
+sharp whisper, pushing him again.
+
+This time he made no more objections, but went into the adjoining room,
+my boudoir. The key was in the door; I turned it in the lock, snatched
+it out, and dropped it into a bowl of flowers on a table close by. That
+done, I flew out of the drawing-room into the little entrance hall, and
+opened the front door. There stood Raoul, his face dead white, and very
+stern in the light of the hall lamp. I had never seen him like that
+before.
+
+"I know why you're here," I began quickly, before he could speak. "Count
+Godensky told me what he said to you. I--hoped you would come."
+
+"Is this why you wished to know what I would do if you deceived me?" he
+asked, with the bitterest reproach in eyes and voice.
+
+"No. For I hadn't deceived you," I answered. "I haven't deceived you
+now. If you loved me, you'd believe me, Raoul."
+
+I put out my hand and took his. He gave mine no pressure, but he let me
+draw him into the house.
+
+"For God's sake, give me back my faith in you, if you can," he said.
+"It's death to lose it. I came here wanting to die."
+
+"After you'd killed me, as you said?"
+
+"Perhaps. I couldn't keep away. I had to come. If you have any
+explanation, for the love of Heaven, tell me what it is."
+
+"You know me, and you know Godensky--yet you need an explanation of
+anything evil said of me by him?" In this way I hoped to disarm Raoul;
+but he had been half-mad, I think, and was scarcely sane now, such a
+power had jealousy over his better self.
+
+"Don't play with me!" he exclaimed. "I can't bear it. You sent me away.
+Yet you had an appointment with Godensky. You took him into your
+carriage; and now--"
+
+"Marianne was in the carriage. If I could have had you with me, I should
+have packed her off by herself, alone, that I--might be alone with you.
+Oh, Raoul, it isn't _possible_ you believe that I could lie to you for
+Godensky's sake--a man like that! If I'd cared for him, why shouldn't I
+have accepted him instead of you? Could I have changed so quickly, do
+you think?"
+
+"I don't think; I'm not able to think. I can only feel," he answered.
+
+"Then--feel sure that I love you--no man but you--now and always."
+
+"Oh, Maxine!" he stammered. "Am I a fool, or wise, to let myself believe
+you?"
+
+"You are wise," I answered, as firmly as if I deserved the full faith I
+was claiming from him as my right. "If you wouldn't believe, without my
+insisting, without my explaining and defending myself, I'd tell you
+nothing. But you _do_ believe, just because you love me--I see it in
+your face, and thank God for it. So I'll tell you this. Count Godensky
+hates me, because I couldn't and wouldn't love him, and he hates you
+because he thinks I love you. He--" I paused for a second. A wild
+thought had flashed like the light of a beacon in my brain. If I could
+say something now which, when the blow fell--if it did fall--might come
+back to Raoul's mind and convince him instantly that it was Godensky,
+not I, who had stolen the treaty and broken him! If I could make him
+believe the whole thing a monstrous plot of Godensky's to revenge
+himself on a woman who'd refused him, by cleverly implicating her in her
+lover's ruin, by throwing guilt upon her while she was, in reality,
+innocent! If I could suggest that to Raoul now, while his ears were
+open, I might hold his love against the world, no matter what happened
+afterward.
+
+It was a mad idea and a wicked one, perhaps; but I was at my wits' end
+and desperate. Though not guilty of this one crime which I would shift
+upon his shoulders if I could, as a means of escaping from the trap he'd
+helped to set, Godensky was capable of it, and guilty of others, I was
+sure, which had never been brought home to him. I believed that he, too,
+was a spy, just as I was; and far worse, because if he were one he
+betrayed his own country, while I never had done that, never would.
+
+All these thoughts rushed through my head in a second; and I think that
+Raoul could hardly have noticed the pause before I began to speak again.
+
+"He--Godensky--would do anything to part you and me," I said. "There's
+no plot too sly and vile for him to conceive and carry out against
+me--and you. No lie too base for him to tell you--or others--about me.
+He sent me a letter at the theatre--soon after you'd left me the first
+time. In it, he said that I must give him a few minutes after the play,
+unless I wanted some dreadful harm to come to _you_--something
+concerning your career. That frightened me, though I might have guessed
+it was only a trick. Indeed, I did guess, but I couldn't be sure, so I
+saw him. I didn't want you to know--I tell you that frankly, Raoul.
+Because I'd told you not to come home with me, I hoped you wouldn't find
+out that I meant to let Count Godensky drive part of the way back with
+me and Marianne. I ran the risk, and--the very thing happened which I
+ought to have known would happen. As for what he had to tell me, it was
+nothing; only vague hints of trouble from which he, as one of an inner
+circle, might save you, if I--would be grateful enough."
+
+"The scoundrel!" broke out Raoul, convinced now, his eyes blazing.
+"I'll--"
+
+He stopped suddenly. But I knew what had been on his lips to say. He
+meant to send a challenge to Count Godensky. I must prevent him from
+doing that.
+
+"No, Raoul," I said, as if he had finished his sentence, "you musn't
+fight. For my sake, you mustn't. Don't you see, it's just what he'd like
+best? It would be a way of doing me the most dreadful injury. Think of
+the scandal. Oh, you _will_ think of it, when you're cooler. For you, I
+would not fear much, for I know what a swordsman you are, and what a
+shot--far superior to Godensky, and with right on your side. But I would
+fear for myself. Promise you won't bring this trouble upon me."
+
+"I promise," he answered. "Oh, my darling, what wouldn't I promise you,
+to atone for my brutal injustice to an angel? How thankful I am that I
+came to you to-night! I meant not to come. I was afraid of myself, and
+what I might do. But at last I couldn't hold out against the something
+that seemed forcing me here in spite of all resistance. Do you forgive
+me?"
+
+"As a reward for your promise," I said, smiling at him through tears
+that would come because I was worn out, and because I knew that it was I
+who needed his forgiveness, not he mine. "Now are you happy again?" I
+asked.
+
+"Yes, I'm happy," he said. "Though on the way to this house I didn't
+dream that it would be possible for me to know happiness any more in
+this world. And even at your gate--" He stopped suddenly, and his face
+changed. I waited an instant, but seeing that he didn't mean to go on, I
+could not resist questioning him. I had to know what had happened at my
+gate.
+
+"Even at the gate--what?" I asked.
+
+"Nothing. I'm sorry I spoke. I want to show you how completely I trust
+you now, by not speaking of that."
+
+But this reticence of his only made me more anxious to hear what he had
+been going to say. I was afraid that I could guess. But I must have it
+from his lips, and be able to explain away the mystery which, when it
+recurred to him in the future, might make him doubt me, even though in
+this moment of exaltation he did not doubt.
+
+"Yes, speak of it," I said. "All the more because it is nothing. For it
+_can_ be nothing."
+
+"I want to punish myself for asking an explanation about Godensky, by
+not allowing you to explain this other thing," insisted poor, loyal,
+repentant Raoul. "Then--at the time--it made all the rest seem worse, a
+thousand times worse. But I saw through black spectacles. Now I see
+through rose-coloured ones."
+
+"I'd rather you saw through your own dear eyes, without any spectacles.
+You must tell me what you're thinking of, dear. For my own sake, if not
+yours."
+
+"Well--if you will know. But, remember, darling, I'm going to put it out
+of my mind. I'll ask you no questions, I'll only--tell you the thing
+itself. As I said, I didn't come here directly after seeing Godensky get
+into your carriage. I wandered about like a madman--and I thought of the
+Seine."
+
+"Oh--you must indeed have been mad!"
+
+"I was. But that something saved me--the something that drove me to find
+you. I walked here, by roundabout ways, but always coming nearer and
+nearer, as if being drawn into a whirlpool. At last, I was in this
+street, on the side opposite your house. I hadn't made up my mind yet,
+that I would try to see you. I didn't know what I would do. I stood
+still, and tried to think. It was very black, in the angle between two
+garden walls where the big plane tree sprouts up, you know. Nobody who
+didn't expect to find a man would have noticed me in the darkness. I
+hadn't been there for two minutes when a man turned the corner, walking
+very fast. As he passed the street lamp just before reaching the garden
+wall, I saw him plainly--not his face, but his figure, and he was young
+and well dressed, in travelling clothes. I thought he looked like an
+Englishman. He went straight to your gate and rang. A moment later
+someone, I couldn't see who, opened the gate and let him in.
+Involuntarily I took a step forward, with the idea of following--of
+pushing my way in to see who he was and who had opened the gate. But I
+wasn't quite mad enough to act like a cad. The gate shut. Oh, Maxine,
+there were evil and cruel thoughts in my mind, I confess it to you--but
+how they made me suffer! I stood as if I were turned to stone, and I
+only wished that I might be, for a stone knows no pain. Just then a
+motor cab going slowly along the street stopped in front of your gate.
+There were two women in it. I could see them by the light of the street
+lamp, though not as plainly as I'd seen the man, and they appeared to be
+arguing very excitedly about something. Whatever it was, it must have
+been in some way concerned with you, or your affairs, because they were
+tremendously interested in the house. They both looked out, and one
+pointed several times. Even if I'd intended to go in, I wouldn't have
+gone while they were there. But the very fact that they _were_ there
+roused me out of the kind of lethargy of misery I'd fallen into. I
+wondered who they were, and if they meant you harm or good. When they
+had driven away I made up my mind that I would see you if I could. I
+tried the gate, and found it unlocked. I walked in, and--there were
+lights in these windows. I knew you couldn't have gone to bed yet,
+though you'd said you were so tired. There was death in my heart then,
+for you and for me, Maxine, for--the gate hadn't opened again, and--"
+
+"I know what you thought!" I broke in, my heart beating so now that my
+voice shook a little, though I struggled to seem calm. "You said to
+yourself, 'It was Maxine who let the man in. He is with her now. I shall
+find them together.'"
+
+"Yes," Raoul admitted. "But I didn't try the handle of the door, as I
+had of the gate. I rang. I couldn't bring myself to take you unawares."
+
+"Do you think still that I let a man in, and hid him when I heard you
+ring?" I asked. (For an instant I was inclined to tell the story Ivor
+had advised me to tell; but I saw how excited Raoul was; I saw how, in
+painting the picture for me, he lived through the scene again, and, in
+spite of himself, suffered almost as keenly as he had suffered in the
+experience. I saw how his suspicions of me came crawling into his heart,
+though he strove to lash them back. I dared not bring Ivor out from the
+other room, if he were still there. He was too handsome, too young, too
+attractive in every way. If Raoul had been jealous of Count Godensky,
+whom he knew I had refused, what would he feel towards Ivor Dundas, a
+stranger whose name I had never mentioned, though he was received at my
+house after midnight? I was thankful I hadn't taken Ivor's advice and
+introduced the two men at first, for in his then mood Raoul would have
+listened to no explanations. He and I would never have arrived at the
+understanding we had reached now. And not having been frank at first, I
+must be secret to the end.)
+
+The very asking of such a bold question--"Do you think I let a man in,
+and hid him?" helped my cause with Raoul.
+
+"No," he said, "I can't think it. I won't, and don't think it. And you
+need tell me nothing. I love you. And so help me God, I won't distrust
+you again!"
+
+Just as it entered my mind to risk everything on the chance that Ivor
+had by this time found his way out, I heard, or fancied I heard, a faint
+sound in the next room. He was there still.
+
+Instead of throwing open the door, as it had occurred to me to do,
+saying, "Let us look for the man, and make sure no one else let him in,"
+I laughed out abruptly, as if on a sudden thought, but really to cover
+the sound if it should come again.
+
+"Oh, Raoul!" I exclaimed, in the midst of the laughter with which I
+surprised him. "You're taking this too seriously. A thousand times I
+thank you for trusting me in spite of appearances, but--after all,
+_were_ they so much against me? You seem to think I am the only young
+woman in this house. Marianne, poor dear, is old enough, it's true. But
+I have a _femme de chambre_ and a _cuisinière_, both under twenty-five,
+both pretty, and both engaged to be married." (This was true. Ah, what a
+comfort to speak the truth to him!) "Doesn't it occur to you that, at
+this very moment, a couple of lovers may be sitting hand in hand on the
+seat under the old yew arbour? Can't you imagine how they started and
+tried to hold their breath lest you should hear, as you opened the gate
+and came up the path?"
+
+"Forgive me!" murmured Raoul, in the depths of remorse again.
+
+"Shall we go and look, or shall we leave them in peace?"
+
+"Leave them in peace, by all means."
+
+"The man will be slipping away soon, no doubt. Both Thérèse and Annette
+are good little girls."
+
+"Don't let's bother about them. You will be sending me away soon, too,
+and I shall deserve it. Brute that I am. You were so tired, and I--"
+
+"Oh, I'm better now," I said. "Of course I must send you away by and by,
+but not quite yet. First, I want to ask if you weren't glad when you saw
+the jewels?"
+
+"Jewels?" echoed Raoul. "What jewels?"
+
+"You don't mean to say you haven't yet opened the little bag I gave you
+at the theatre?" I exclaimed.
+
+Raoul looked half ashamed. "Dearest, don't think me ungrateful," he
+said, "but before I had a chance to open it I met Godensky, and he told
+me--that lie. It lit a fire in my brain. I forgot all about the bag, and
+haven't thought of it again till this minute."
+
+At last I laughed with sincerity. "Oh, Raoul, Raoul, you're not fit for
+this work-a-day world! Well, I'm glad, after all, that I shall be with
+you, when you see what that little insignificant bag which you've
+forgotten all this tune has in it. Take it out of your pocket, and let's
+open it together."
+
+For the moment I was almost happy; and that Raoul would be happy, I
+knew.
+
+His hand went to the inner pocket of his coat, into which I had seen him
+put the brocade bag. But it did not come out again. It groped; and his
+face flushed. "Good heavens, Maxine," he said, "I hope you weren't in
+earnest when you told me that bag held something very valuable to us
+both, for I've lost it. You know, I've been almost mad. I had my
+handkerchief in that pocket. I must have pulled it out, and--"
+
+My knees seemed to give way under me. I half fell onto a sofa.
+
+"Raoul," I said, in a queer stifled voice, "the bag had in it the
+Duchess de Montpellier's diamonds."
+
+
+
+
+IVOR DUNDAS' PART
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+IVOR GOES INTO THE DARK
+
+
+Never had I been caught in a situation which I liked less than finding
+myself, long after midnight, locked by Maxine de Renzie into her
+boudoir, while within hearing she did her best to convince her lover
+that no stranger had come on her account to the house.
+
+I had never before visited her in Paris, though she had described her
+little place there to me when we knew each other in London; and in
+groping about trying to find another door or a window in the dark room,
+I ran constant risks of making my presence known by stumbling against
+the furniture or knocking down some ornament.
+
+I dared not strike a match because of the sharp, rasping noise it would
+make, and I had to be as cautious as if I were treading with bare feet
+on glass, although I knew that Maxine was praying for me to be out of
+the house, and I was as far from wishing to linger as she was to have me
+stay. Only by a miracle did I save myself once or twice from upsetting a
+chair or a tall vase of flowers, on my way to a second door which was
+locked on the other side. At last, however, I discovered a window, and
+congratulated myself that my trouble and Maxine's danger was nearly
+over. The room being on the ground floor, though rather high above the
+level of the garden, I thought that I could easily let myself down. But
+when I had slipped behind the heavy curtains (they were drawn, and felt
+smooth, like satin) it was only to come upon a new difficulty.
+
+The window, which opened in the middle like most French windows, was
+tightly closed, with the catch securely fastened; and as I began slowly
+and with infinite caution to turn the handle, I felt that the window was
+going to stick. Perhaps the wood had been freshly painted: perhaps it
+had swelled; in any case I knew that when the two sashes consented to
+part they would make a loud protest.
+
+After the first warning squeak I stopped. In the next room Maxine raised
+her voice--to cover the sound, I was sure. Then it had been worse even
+than I fancied! I dared not begin again. I would grope about once more,
+and see if I could hit upon some other way out, which possibly I had
+missed.
+
+No, there was nothing. No other window, except a small one which
+apparently communicated with a pantry, and even if that had not seemed
+too small for me to climb through, it was fastened on the pantry side.
+
+What to do I did not know. It would be a calamity for Maxine if du
+Laurier should hear a sound, and insist on having the door opened, after
+she had given him the impression (if she had not said it in so many
+words) that there was no stranger in the house.
+
+Probably she hoped that by this time I was gone; but how could I go? I
+felt like a rat in a trap: and if I had been a nervous woman I should
+have imagined myself stifling in the small, hot room with its closed
+doors and windows. As it was, I was uncomfortable enough. My forehead
+grew damp, as in the first moments of a Turkish bath, and absent
+mindedly I felt in pocket after pocket for my handkerchief. It was not
+to be found. I must have lost it at the hotel, or the detective's, or in
+the automobile I had hired. In an outside pocket of my coat, however, I
+chanced upon something for the existence of which I couldn't account. It
+was a very small something: only a bit of paper, but a very neatly
+folded bit of paper, and I remembered how it had fallen from my pocket
+onto the floor, and a gendarme had picked it up.
+
+At ordinary times I should most likely not have given it a second
+thought; but to-night nothing unexpected could be dismissed as
+insignificant until it had been thoroughly examined. I put the paper
+back, and as I did so I heard Maxine give an exclamation, apparently of
+distress. I could not distinguish all she said, but I thought that I
+caught the word "diamonds." For a moment or two she and du Laurier
+talked together so excitedly that I might have made another attack on
+the window without great risk; and I was meditating the attempt when
+suddenly the voices ceased. A door opened and shut. There was dead
+silence, except for a footfall overhead, which sounded heavier than
+Maxine's. Perhaps it was her maid's.
+
+For a few seconds more I stood still, awaiting developments, but there
+was no sound in the next room, and I decided to take my chance before it
+should be too late.
+
+I jerked at the window, which yielded with a loud squeak that would
+certainly have given away the secret of my presence if there had been
+ears to hear. But all was still in the drawing-room adjoining, and I
+dropped down on to a flower bed some few feet below. Then I skirted
+round to the front of the house, walking stealthily on the soft grass,
+and would have made a noiseless dash for the gate had I not seen a
+stream of light flowing out through the open front door across the lawn.
+I checked myself just in time to draw back without being seen by a woman
+and a tall man moving slowly down the path. They were Maxine and, no
+doubt, du Laurier. They spoke not a word, but walked with their heads
+bent, as if deeply absorbed in searching for something on the ground.
+Down to the gate they went, opened it and passed out, only half closing
+it behind them, so that I knew they meant presently to come back again.
+
+I should have been thankful to escape, but the chance of meeting them
+was too imminent. Accordingly I waited, and it was well I did, for as
+they reappeared in three or four minutes they could not have gone far
+enough to be out of sight from the gate.
+
+"There's witchcraft in it," Maxine said, as she and her lover passed
+within a few yards of me, where I hid behind a little arbour.
+
+Du Laurier's answer was lost to me, but his voice sounded despondent.
+Evidently they had mislaid something of importance and had small hope of
+finding it again. I could not help being curious, as well as sorry for
+Maxine that a further misfortune should have befallen her at such a
+time. But the one and only way in which I could help her at the moment
+was to get away as soon as possible.
+
+They had left the gate unlocked, and I drew in a long breath of relief
+when I was on the other side. I hurried out of the street, lest du
+Laurier should, by any chance, follow on quickly: and my first thought
+was to go immediately back to my hotel, where Girard might by now have
+arrived with news. I was just ready to hail a cab crawling by at a
+distance, when I remembered the bit of paper I'd found and put back into
+my pocket. It occurred to me to have a look at it, by the light of a
+street lamp near by; and the instant I had straightened out the small,
+crumpled wad I guessed that here was a link in the mystery.
+
+The paper was a leaf torn from a note-book and closely covered on both
+sides with small, uneven writing done with a sharp black pencil. The
+handwriting was that of an uneducated person, and was strange to me. I
+could not make out the words by the light of the tall lamp, so I lit a
+wax match from my match-box, and protecting the flame in the hollow of
+my hand, began studying the strange message.
+
+The three first words sent my heart up with a bound. "On board the
+'Queen.'" I had crossed the Channel in the "Queen," and this beginning
+alone was enough to make me hope that the bit of paper might do more
+than any detective to unravel the mystery.
+
+    "I'm taking big risks because I've got to," I read on. "It's my
+    only chance. And if you find this, I bet I can trust you. You're
+    a gentleman, and you saved my life and a lot more besides by
+    getting into that railway-carriage when the other chaps did. The
+    minute I seen them I thot I was done for, but you stopped there
+    game. I'm a jewler's assistant, carrying property worth
+    thousands, for my employers. From the first I knew 'twas bound
+    to be a ticklish job. On this bote I'm safe, for the villions
+    who would have murdered and robbed me in the train if it hadn't
+    been for you being there, won't have a chance, but when I get to
+    Paris it will be the worst, and no hope for the jewls, followed
+    as I am, if I hadn't already thot of a plan to save them through
+    you, an honest gentleman far above temptashun. I know who you
+    are, for I've seen your photo in the papers. So, what I did was
+    this: to try a ventriloquist trick which has offen bin of use in
+    my carere, just as folks were on the boat's gangway. Thro'
+    making that disturbance, and a little skill I have got by doing
+    amatoor conjuring to amuse my wife and famly, I was able to slip
+    the case of my employer's jewls into your breast pocket without
+    your knowing. And I had to take away what you had in, not that I
+    wanted to rob one who had done good by me, but because if I'd
+    left it the double thickness would have surprised you and you
+    would probably have pulled out my case to see what it was. Then
+    my fat would have bin in the fire, with certin persons looking
+    on, and you in danger as well as me which wouldn't be fare. I've
+    got your case in my pocket as I write, but I won't open it
+    because it may have your sweetart's letters in. You can get your
+    property again by bringing me my master's, which is fare
+    exchange. I can't call on you, for I don't know where your going
+    and daren't hang round to see on account of the danger I run,
+    and needing to meet a pal of mine who will help me. I must get
+    to him at once, if I am spared to do so, for which reason I
+    wrote out this explanashun. The best I can do is to slip it in
+    your pocket which I shall try when in the railway stashun at
+    Paris. You see how I trust you as a gentleman to bring me the
+    jewls. Come as soon as you can, and get your own case instead,
+    calling at 218 Rue Fille Sauvage, Avenue Morot, back room, top
+    floor, left of passage. Expressing my gratitood in advance,
+
+    "I am,
+
+    "Yours trustfully,
+
+    "J.M. Jeweler's Messenger.
+
+    "P.S.--For heaven's sake don't fale, and ask the concerge for
+    name of Gestre."
+
+If it had not been for my rage at not having read this illuminating
+little document earlier, I should have felt like shouting with joy. As
+it was, my delight was tempered with enough of regret to make it easier
+to restrain myself.
+
+But for the fear that du Laurier might be still with Maxine, I should
+have rushed back to her house for a moment, just long enough to give her
+the good news. But in the circumstances I dared not do it, lest she
+should curse instead of bless me: and besides, as there was still a
+chance of disappointment, it might be better in any case not to raise
+her hopes until there was no danger of dashing them again. The best
+thing was to get the treaty back, without a second of delay. As for the
+detective, who was perhaps waiting for me at the hotel, he would have to
+wait longer, or even go away disgusted--nothing made much difference
+now. Maybe, when once I had the treaty in my hands, I might send a
+messenger with a few cautious words to Maxine. No matter how late the
+hour, she was certain not to be asleep.
+
+The cab I had seen crawling through the street had disappeared long ago,
+and no other was in sight, so I walked quickly on, hoping to find one
+presently. It was now so late, however, that in this quiet part of Paris
+no carriages of any sort were plying for hire. Finally I made up my mind
+that I should have to go all the way on foot; but I knew the direction
+of the Avenue Morot, though I'd never heard of Rue de la Fille Sauvage,
+and as it was not more than two miles to walk, I could reach the house I
+wanted to find in half an hour.
+
+A few minutes more or less ought not to matter much, since "J. M." was
+sure to be awaiting me with impatience; therefore the thing which
+bothered me most was the effect likely to be produced on the man when I
+could not hand him over the diamonds in exchange for the treaty.
+
+Of course I didn't believe that "J.M." was a jeweller's messenger,
+though possibly I might have been less incredulous if Maxine had not
+told me the true history of the diamonds, and what had happened in
+Holland. As it was, I had very little doubt that the rat of a man I had
+chanced to protect in the railway carriage was no other than the
+extraordinarily expert thief who had relieved du Laurier of the
+Duchess's necklace.
+
+Following out a theory which I worked up as I walked, I thought it
+probable that the fellow had been helped by confederates whom he had
+contrived to dodge, evading them and sneaking off to London in the hope
+of cheating them out of their share of the spoil. Followed by them,
+dreading their vengeance, I fancied him flitting from one hiding-place
+to another, not daring to separate himself from the jewels; at last
+determining to escape, disguised, from England, where the scent had
+become too hot; reserving a first-class carriage in the train to Dover,
+and travelling with a golfer's kit; struck with panic at the last moment
+on seeing the very men he fled to avoid, close on his heels, and opening
+the door of his reserved carriage with a railway key.
+
+All this was merely deduction, for so far as I had seen, "J.M.'s"
+travelling companions hadn't even accosted him. Still, the theory
+accounted for much that had been puzzling, and made it plausible that a
+man should be desperate enough to trust his treasure to a stranger
+(known only through "photos in the newspapers") rather than risk losing
+it to those he had betrayed.
+
+I resolved to use all my powers of diplomacy to extract from "J.M." the
+case containing the treaty before he learned that he was not to receive
+the diamonds in its place; and I had no more than vaguely mapped out a
+plan of proceeding before I arrived in the Avenue Morot. Thence I soon
+found my way into the Rue de la Fille Sauvage, a mean street, to which
+the queer name seemed not inappropriate. The house I had to visit was an
+ugly big box of a building, with rooms advertised to let, as I could see
+by the light of a street lamp across the way, which gleamed bleakly on
+the lines of shut windows behind narrow iron balconies.
+
+The large double doors, from which the paint had peeled in patches, were
+closed, but I rang the bell for the concierge; and after a delay of
+several minutes I heard a slight click which meant that the doors had
+opened for me. I passed into a dim lobby, to be challenged by a sleepy
+voice behind a half open window. The owner of the voice kept himself
+invisible and was no doubt in the bunk which he called his bed. Only a
+stern sense of duty as concierge woke him up enough to demand,
+mechanically, who it was that the strange monsieur desired to visit at
+this late hour?
+
+I replied according to instructions. I wished to see Monsieur Gestre.
+
+"Monsieur Gestre is away," murmured the voice behind the little window.
+
+I thought quickly. Gestre was probably the "pal" whom "J.M." had been in
+such a hurry to find. "Very well," said I, "I'll see his friend, the
+Englishman who arrived this evening. I have an appointment with him."
+
+"Ah, I understand. I remember. Is it not that Monsieur has been here
+already? He now returns, as he mentioned that he might do?"
+
+Again my thoughts made haste to arrange themselves. The "monsieur" who
+had called had probably also arrived late, after the concierge had gone
+to bed in his dim box, and become too drowsy to notice such details as
+the difference between voices, especially if they were those of
+foreigners. Perhaps if I explained that I was not the person who had
+said he would come again, but another, the man behind the window would
+consider me a complication, and refuse to let me pass at such an hour
+without a fuss. And of all things, a fuss was what I least wanted--for
+Maxine's sake, and because of the treaty. I decided to seize upon the
+advantage that was offered me.
+
+"Quite right," I said shortly. "I know the way." And so began to mount
+the stairs. Flight after flight I went up, meeting no one; and on the
+fifth floor I found that I had reached the top of the house. There were
+no more stairs to go up.
+
+On each of the floors below there had been a dim light--a jet of gas
+turned low. But the fifth floor was in darkness. Someone had put out the
+light, either in carelessness or for some special reason.
+
+There were several doors on each side of the passage, but I could not be
+sure that I had reached the right one until I'd lighted a match. When I
+was sure, I knocked, but no answer came.
+
+"He can't be out," I said to myself, cheerfully. "He's got tired of
+waiting and dropped asleep, that's all."
+
+I knocked again. Silence. And then for a third time, loudly, keeping on
+until I was sure that, if there were anyone in the room, no matter how
+sound asleep, I must have waked him.
+
+After all, he had gone out, but perhaps only for a short time. Surely,
+he would soon come back, lest he should miss the keeper of the diamonds.
+
+I had very little hope that, even on the chance of my arriving while he
+was away, he would have left the door open. Nevertheless I tried the
+handle, and to my surprise it yielded.
+
+"That must be because the lock's broken and only a bolt remains," I
+thought. "So he had to take the risk. All the better. This looks as if
+he'd be back any minute. He wouldn't like giving the enemy a chance to
+find his lair and step into it before him." It was dark in the room, and
+I struck another wax match just inside the threshold. But I had hardly
+time to get an impression of bareness and meanness of furnishing before
+a draught of air from an open window blew out the struggling flame and
+at the same instant banged the door shut behind me.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+IVOR FINDS SOMETHING IN THE DARK
+
+There was a strong smell of paraffin oil in the room; and from somewhere
+at the far end came a faint tap, tapping sound, which might be the light
+knocking of a window-blind or the rap of a signalling finger.
+
+If I could steer my way to the window and pull back the drawn curtains I
+might be able to let in light enough to find matches on mantelpiece or
+table. Then, what good luck if I should discover the case containing the
+treaty and go off with it before "J.M." came back! It was not his, and
+he was a thief: therefore, I should be doing him no wrong and Maxine de
+Renzie much good by taking it, if he had left it behind, not too well
+hidden when he went out.
+
+Guided in the darkness by a slight breeze which still came through the
+window, though the door was now shut, I shuffled across the uncarpeted
+floor, groping with hands held out before me as I moved.
+
+In a moment I brushed against a table, then struck my shin on something
+which proved to be the leg of a chair lying over-turned on the floor. I
+pushed it out of the way, but had gone on no more than three or four
+steps when I caught my foot in a rug which had got twisted in a heap
+round the fallen chair. I disentangled myself from its coils, only to
+slip and almost lose my balance by stepping into some spilled liquid
+which lay thick and greasy on the bare boards.
+
+The warm hopefulness which I had brought into this dark, silent room was
+chilled and dying now.
+
+"I'm afraid there's been a struggle here," I thought. And if there had
+been a struggle--what of the treaty?
+
+There seemed to be a good deal of the spilled liquid, for as I felt my
+way along, more anxious than ever for light, the floor was still wet and
+slippery; and then, in the midst of the puddle, I stumbled over a thing
+that was heavy and soft to the touch of my foot.
+
+A queer tingling, like the sting of a thousand tiny electric needles
+prickled through my veins, for even before I stooped and laid my hand on
+that barrier which was so heavy and yet so soft as it stopped my path, I
+knew what it would prove to be.
+
+It was as if I could see through the dark, to what it hid. But though
+there was no surprise left, there was a shock of horror as my fingers
+touched an arm, a throat, an upturned face. And my fingers were wet, as
+I knew my boots must be. And I knew, too, with what they were wet.
+
+I'm ashamed to say that, after the first shock of the discovery, my
+impulse was to get away, and out of the whole business, in which, for
+reasons which concerned others even more than myself, it would be
+unpleasant to be involved, just at this time especially. I could go
+downstairs now, past the sleeping concierge, and with luck no one need
+ever know that I had been in this dark room of death.
+
+But as quickly as the impulse came, it went. I must stop here and search
+for the treaty, no matter what happened, until I had found it or made
+sure it was not to be found; I must not think of escape. If there were
+matches in the room, well and good; if not, I must go elsewhere for
+them, and come back. It was a grim task, but it had to be done.
+
+Somehow, I got to the mantelpiece; and there luckily, among a litter of
+pipes and bottles and miscellaneous rubbish, I did lay my hand on a
+broken cup containing a few matches. I struck one, which showed me on
+the mantel an end of a candle standing up in a bed of its own grease. I
+lighted it, and not until the flame was burning brightly did I look
+round.
+
+There was but a faint illumination, yet it was enough to give me the
+secret of the room. I might have seen all at a glance as I came in,
+before the light of my last match was blown out by the wind, had not the
+door as I opened it formed a screen between me and the dead man on the
+floor.
+
+He lay in the midst of the wildest confusion. In falling, he had dragged
+with him the cover of a table, and a glass lamp which was smashed in
+pieces, the spilled oil mingling with the stream of his blood. A chair
+had been overturned, and a broken plate and tumbler with the tray that
+had held them were half hidden in the folds of a disordered rug.
+
+But this was not all. The struggle for life did not account for the
+condition of other parts of the room. Papers were scattered over the
+floor: the drawers of an old escritoire had been jerked out of place and
+their contents strewn far and near. The doors of a wardrobe were open,
+and a few shabby coats and pairs of trousers thrown about, with the
+pockets wrong side out or torn in rags. A chest of drawers had been
+ransacked, and a narrow, hospital bed stripped of sheets and blankets,
+the stuffing of the mattress pulled into small pieces. The room looked
+as if a whirlwind had swept through it, and as I forced myself to go
+near the body I saw that it had not been left in peace by the murderer.
+The blood-stained coat was open, the pockets of the garments turned out,
+like those in the wardrobe, and all the clothing disarranged, evidently
+by hands which searched for something with frenzied haste and merciless
+determination.
+
+The cunning forethought of the wretched man had availed him nothing. I
+could imagine how joyously he had arrived at this house, believing that
+he had outwitted the enemy. I pictured his disappointment on not finding
+the friend who could have helped and supported him. I saw how he had
+planned to defend himself in case of siege, by locking and bolting the
+door (both lock and bolt were broken); I fancied him driven by hunger to
+search his friend's quarters for food, and fearfully beginning a supper
+in the midst of which he had probably been interrupted. Almost, I could
+feel the horror with which he must have trembled when steps came along
+the corridor, when the door was tried and finally broken in by force
+without any cry of his being heard. I guessed how he had rushed to the
+window, opened it, only to stare down at the depths below and return
+desperately, to stand at bay; to protest to the avengers that he had not
+the jewels; that he had been deceived; that he was innocent of any
+intention to defraud them; that he would explain all, make anything
+right if only they would give him time.
+
+But they had not given him time. They had punished him for robbing them
+of the diamonds by robbing him of his life. They had made him pay with
+the extreme penalty for his treachery; and yet in the flickering
+candle-light the stricken face, blood-spattered though it was, seemed to
+leer slyly, as if in the knowledge that they had been cheated in the
+end.
+
+The confusion of the room promised badly for my hopes, nevertheless
+there was a chance that the murderers, intent only on finding the
+diamonds or some letters relating to their disposal, might, if they
+found the treaty, have hastily flung it aside, as a thing of no value.
+
+Though the corridors of the house were lit by gas, this room had none,
+and the lamp being broken, I had to depend upon the bit of candle which
+might fail while I still had need of it. I separated it carefully from
+its bed of grease on the mantel, and as I did so the wavering light
+touched my hand and shirt cuff. Both were stained red, and I turned
+slightly sick at the sight. There was blood on my brown boots, too, and
+the grey tweed clothes which I had not had time to change since arriving
+in Paris.
+
+I told myself that I must do my best to wash away these tell-tale stains
+before leaving the room; but first I would look for the treaty.
+
+I began my search by stirring up the mass of scattered papers on the
+floor, and in spite of the horror which gripped me by the throat, I
+cried "hurrah!" when, half hidden by the twisted rug, I saw the missing
+letter-case. It was lying spread open, back uppermost, and there came an
+instant of despair when I pounced on it only to find it empty. But there
+was the treaty on the floor underneath; and lucky it was that the
+searchers had thrown it out, for there were gouts of blood on the
+letter-case, while the treaty was clean and unspotted.
+
+With a sense of unutterable relief which almost made up for everything
+endured and still to be endured, I slipped the document back into the
+pocket from which it had been stolen.
+
+At that moment a board creaked in the corridor, and then came a step
+outside the door.
+
+My blood rushed up to my head. But it was not of myself I thought; it
+was of the treaty. If I were to be caught here, alone with the dead man,
+my hands and clothing stained with his blood, I should be arrested. The
+treaty must not be found on me. Yet I must hide it, save it. I made a
+dash for the window, and once outside, standing on the narrow balcony, I
+threw the candle-end into the room, aiming for the fire-place. Faint
+starlight, sifting through heavy clouds, showed me a row of small
+flower-pots standing in a wooden box. Hastily I wrapped the treaty in a
+towel which hung over the iron railing, lifted out two of the
+flower-pots (in which the plants were dead and dry), laid the flat
+parcel I had made in the bottom of the box, and replaced the pots to
+cover and conceal it. Then I walked back into the room again. A hand,
+fumbling at the handle of the door, pushed it open with a faint creaking
+of the hinges. Then the light of a dark lantern flashed.
+
+
+
+
+DIANA FORREST'S PART
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+DIANA TAKES A MIDNIGHT DRIVE
+
+Some people apparently understand how to be unhappy gracefully, as if it
+were a kind of fine art. I don't. It seems too bad to be true that I
+should be unhappy, and as if I must wake up to find that it was only a
+bad dream.
+
+I suppose I've been spoiled a good deal all my life. Everybody has been
+kind to me, and tried to do things for my pleasure, just as I have for
+them; and I have taken things for granted--except, of course, with Lisa.
+But Lisa is different--different from everyone else in the world. I have
+never expected anything from her, as I have from others. All I've wanted
+was to make her as happy as such a poor, little, piteous creature could
+be, and to teach myself never to mind anything that she might say or do.
+
+But Ivor--to be disappointed in him, to be made miserable by him! I
+didn't know it was possible to suffer as I suffered that day he went off
+and left me standing in the railway-station. I didn't dream then of
+going to Paris. If anybody had told me I would go, I should have said,
+"No, no, I will not." And yet I did. I allowed myself to be persuaded. I
+tried to make myself think that it was to please Aunt Lilian; but down
+underneath I knew all the time it wasn't that, really. It was because I
+couldn't bear to do the things I'm accustomed to doing every day. I felt
+as if I should cry, or scream, or do something ridiculous and awful
+unless there were a change of some sort--any change, but if possible
+some novelty and excitement, with people talking to me every minute.
+
+Perhaps, too, there was an attraction for me in the thought that I would
+be in Paris while Ivor was there. I kept reminding myself on the boat
+and the train that nothing good could happen; that Ivor and I could
+never be as we had been before; that it was all over between us for ever
+and ever, and through his fault. But, there at the bottom was the
+thought that I _might_ have done him an injustice, because he had begged
+me to trust him, and I wouldn't. Just suppose--something in myself kept
+on saying--that we should by mere chance meet in Paris, and he should be
+able to prove that he hadn't come for Maxine de Renzie's sake! It would
+be too glorious. I should begin to live again--for already I'd found out
+that life without loving and trusting Ivor wasn't life at all.
+
+He couldn't think I had followed him, even if he did see me in Paris,
+because I would be with my Aunt and Uncle, and Lord Robert West; and I
+made up my mind to be very nice to Lord Bob, much nicer than I ever had
+been, if Ivor happened to run across us anywhere.
+
+Then that very thing did happen, in the strangest and most unexpected
+way, but instead of being happier for seeing him, I was ten times more
+unhappy than before--for now the misery had no gleam of hope shining
+through its blackness.
+
+That was what I told myself at first. But after we had met in the hall
+of the hotel, and Ivor had seemed confused, and wouldn't give up his
+mysterious engagement, or say what it was, though Lisa chaffed him and
+he _must_ have known what I thought, I suddenly forgot the slight he had
+put upon me. Instead of being angry with him, I was _afraid_ for him, I
+couldn't have explained why, unless it was the look on his face when he
+turned away from me.
+
+No man would look like that who was going of his own free will to a
+woman with whom he was in love, that same queer something whispered in
+my ear. Instead of feeling sick and sorry for myself and desperately
+angry with him, it was Ivor I felt sorry for.
+
+I pretended not to care whether he stayed or went, and talked to Lord
+Robert West as if I'd forgotten that there was such a person as Ivor
+Dundas. I even turned my back on him before he was gone. Still I seemed
+to see the tragic look in his eyes, and the dogged set of his jaw. It
+was just as if he were going away from me to his death; and his face was
+like that of the man in Millais' picture of the Huguenot Lovers. I
+wondered if that girl had been broken-hearted because he wouldn't let
+her tie round his arm the white scarf that might have saved him.
+
+It is strange how one's mood can change in a moment--but perhaps it is
+like that only with women. A minute before I'd been trying to despise
+Ivor, and to argue, just as if I'd been a match-making mamma, to myself
+that it would be a very good thing if I could make up my mind to marry
+Lord Bob; that it would be rather nice being a Duchess some day; and
+that besides, perhaps Ivor would be sorry when he heard that I was
+engaged to somebody else.
+
+But then, as I said, quite suddenly it was as if a sharp knife had been
+stuck into my heart and turned round and round. I would have given
+anything to run after Ivor to tell him that I loved him dreadfully and
+would trust him in spite of all.
+
+"You look as pale as if you were going to faint," said Lisa, in her
+little high-keyed voice, which, though she doesn't speak loudly, always
+reaches to the farthest corners of the biggest rooms.
+
+I did think it was unkind of her to call everyone's attention to me just
+then, for even strangers heard, and turned to throw a glance at me as
+they passed.
+
+"It must be the light," I said, "for I don't feel in the least faint."
+That was a fib, because when you are as miserable as I was at that
+minute your heart feels cold and heavy, as though it could hardly go on
+beating. But I felt that if ever a fib were excusable, that one was.
+"I'm a little tired, though," I went on. "None of us got to bed till
+after three last night; and this day, though very nice of course, has
+been rather long. I think, if you don't mind, Aunt Lil, I'll go straight
+to my room when we get upstairs."
+
+We all went up together in the lift, but I said good-night to the others
+at the door of the pretty drawing-room at the end of Uncle Eric's suite.
+
+"Shan't I come with you?" asked Lisa, but I said "no." It was something
+new for her to offer to help me, for she isn't very strong, and has
+always been the one to be petted and watched over by me, though she's a
+few years older than I am.
+
+Aunt Lilian had brought her maid, without whom she can't get on even for
+a single night, but Lisa and I had left ours at home, and Aunt Lil had
+offered to let Morton help us as much as we liked. I hadn't been shut up
+in my room for two minutes, therefore, when Morton knocked to ask if she
+could do anything. But I thanked her, and sent her away.
+
+I had not yet begun to undress, but was standing in the window, looking
+along the Champs Élysées, brilliant still with electric lights, and full
+of carriages and motor-cars bringing people home from theatres and
+dinner-parties, or taking them to restaurants for supper.
+
+Down there somewhere was Ivor, going farther away from me every moment,
+though last night at about this time he had been telling me how he loved
+me, how I was the One Girl in the world for him, and always, always
+would be. Here was I, remembering in spite of myself every word he had
+said, hearing again the sound of his voice and seeing the look in his
+eyes as he said it. There was he, going to the woman for whose sake he
+had been willing to break with me.
+
+But was he going to her? I asked myself. If not, when they had chaffed
+him he might easily have mentioned what his engagement really was,
+knowing, as he must have known, exactly how he made me suffer.
+
+Still--why had he looked so miserable, if he didn't care what I thought,
+and was really ready to throw me over at a call from her? The whole
+thing began to appear more complicated, more mysterious than I had felt
+it to be at first, when I was smarting with my disappointment in Ivor,
+and tingling all over with the humiliation he seemed to have put upon
+me.
+
+"Oh, to know, to _know_, what he's doing at this minute!" I whispered,
+half aloud, because it was comforting in my loneliness to hear the sound
+of my own voice. "To _know_ whether I'm doing him the most awful
+injustice--or not!"
+
+Just then, at the door between my room and Lisa's, next to mine, came a
+tapping, and instantly after the handle was tried. But I had turned the
+key, thinking that perhaps this very thing might happen--that Lisa might
+wish to come, and not wait till I'd given her permission. She does that
+sort of thing sometimes, for she is rather curious and impish (Ivor
+calls her "Imp"), and if she thinks people don't want her that is the
+very time when she most wants them.
+
+"Oh, Di, do let me in!" she exclaimed.
+
+For a second or two I didn't answer. Never in my life had I liked poor
+Lisa less than I'd liked her for the last four and twenty hours, though
+I'd told myself over and over again that she meant well, that she was
+acting for my good, and that some day I would be grateful instead of
+longing to slap her, as I couldn't help doing now. But always before,
+when she has irritated me until I've nearly forgotten my promise to her
+father (my step-father) always to be gentle with her in thought and
+deed, I have felt such pangs of remorse that I've tried to atone, even
+when there wasn't really anything to atone for, except in my mind. I was
+afraid that, if I refused to let her come in, she would go to bed angry
+with me. And when Lisa is angry she generally has a heart attack and is
+ill next day. "Di, are you there?" she called again.
+
+Without answering, I went to the door and unlocked it. She came in with
+a rush. "I feel perfectly wild, as if I must do something desperate,"
+she said.
+
+So did I, but I didn't mean to let her know that.
+
+"I'm going out," she went on. "If I don't, I shall have a fit."
+
+"Out!" I repeated. "You can't. It's midnight."
+
+"Can't? There's no such word for me as 'can't,' when I want to do
+anything, and you ought to know that," said she. "It's only being ill
+that ever stops me, and I'm not ill to-night. I feel as if electricity
+were flowing all through me, making my nerves jump, and I believe you
+feel exactly the same way. Your eyes are as big as half-crowns, and as
+black as ink."
+
+"I _am_ a little nervous," I confessed. And I couldn't help thinking it
+odd that Lisa and I should both be feeling that electrical sensation at
+the same time. "Perhaps it's in the air. Maybe there's going to be a
+thunder-storm. There are clouds over the stars, and a wind coming up."
+
+"Maybe it's partly that, maybe not," said she. "But there's one thing
+I'm sure of. _Something's going to happen._"
+
+"Do you feel that, too?" I broke out before I'd stopped to think. Then I
+wished I hadn't. But it was too late to wish. Lisa caught me up quickly.
+
+"Ah, I _knew_ you did!" she cried, looking as eerie and almost as
+haggard as a witch. "Something _is_ going to happen. Come. Go with me
+and be in it, whatever it is."
+
+"No," I said. "And you mustn't go either." But she was weird. She seemed
+to lure me, like a strange little siren, with all a siren's witchery,
+though without her beauty. My voice sounded undecided, and I knew it.
+
+"Of course I'm not asking you to wander with me in the night, hand in
+hand through the streets of Paris, like the Two Orphans," said Lisa.
+"I'm going to have a closed carriage--a motor-brougham, one belonging to
+the hotel, so it's quite safe. It's ordered already, and I shall first
+drive and drive until my nerves stop jerking and my head throbbing. If
+you won't drive with me I shall drive alone. But there'll be no harm in
+it, either way. I didn't know you were so conventional as to think there
+could be. Where's your brave, independent American spirit?"
+
+"I'm not conventional," I said.
+
+"Yes, you are. Living in England has spoiled you. You're afraid of
+things you never used to be afraid of."
+
+"I'm not afraid of things, and I'm not a bit changed," I said. "You only
+want to 'dare' me."
+
+"I want you to go with me. It would be so much nicer than going alone,"
+she begged. "Supposing I got ill in a hired cab? I might, you know; but
+I _can't_ stay indoors, whatever happens. If we were together it would
+be an adventure worth remembering."
+
+"Very well," I said, "I'll go with you, not for the adventure, but
+rather than have you make a fuss because I try to keep you in, and
+rather than you should go alone."
+
+"Good girl!" exclaimed Lisa, quite pleasant and purring, now that she
+had got her way; though if I'd refused she would probably have cried.
+She is terrifying when she cries. Great, deep sobs seem almost to tear
+her frail little body to pieces. She goes deadly white, and sometimes
+ends up by a fit of trembling as if she were in an ague.
+
+"Have you really ordered a motor cab?" I asked.
+
+"Yes," said she. "I rang for a waiter, and sent him down to tell the big
+porter at the front door to get me one. Then I gave him five francs, and
+said I did not want anybody to know, because I must visit a poor, sick
+friend who had written to say she was in great trouble, but wished to
+tell no one except me that she'd come to Paris."
+
+"I shouldn't have thought such an elaborate story necessary to a
+waiter," I remarked, tossing up my chin a little, for I don't like
+Lisa's subterranean ways. But this time she didn't even try to defend
+herself.
+
+"Let's get ready at once," she said. "I'm going to put on my long
+travelling cloak, to cover up this dress, and wear my black toque, with
+a veil. I suppose you'll do the same? Then we can slip out, and down the
+'service' stairs. The carriage is to wait for us at the side entrance."
+
+I looked at her, trying to read her secretive little face. "Lisa, are
+you planning to go somewhere in particular, do something you want to
+'spring' on me when it's too late for me to get out of it?"
+
+"How horrid of you to be so suspicious of me! You _do_ hurt my feelings!
+I haven't had an inspiration yet, so I can't make a plan. But it will
+come; I know it will. I shall _feel_ where we ought to go, to be in the
+midst of an adventure--oh, without being mixed up in it, so don't look
+horrified! I told you that something was going to happen, and that I
+wanted to be in it. Well, I mean to be, when the inspiration comes."
+
+We put on our dark hats and long travelling cloaks. I pinned on Lisa's
+veil, and my own. Then she peeped to see if anyone were about; but there
+was nobody in the corridor. We hurried out, and as Lisa already knew
+where to find the 'service' stairs, we were soon on the way down. At the
+side entrance of the hotel the motor-cab was waiting, and when we were
+both seated inside, Lisa spoke in French to the driver, who waited for
+orders.
+
+"I think you might take us to the Rue d'Hollande. Drive fast, please.
+After that, I'll tell you where to go next."
+
+"Is this your 'inspiration'?" I asked.
+
+"I'm not sure yet. Why?" and her voice was rather sharp.
+
+"For no particular reason. I'm a little curious, that's all."
+
+We drove on for some minutes in silence. I was sure now that Lisa had
+been playing with me, that all along she had had some special
+destination in her mind, and that she had her own reasons for wanting to
+bring me to it. But what use to ask more questions? She did not mean me
+to find out until she was ready for me to know.
+
+She had told the man to go quickly, and he obeyed. He rushed us round
+corners and through street after street which I had never seen
+before--quiet streets, where there were no cabs, and no gay people
+coming home from theatres and dinners. At last we turned into a
+particularly dull little street, and stopped.
+
+"Is this the Rue d'Hollande?" Lisa enquired of the driver, jumping
+quickly up and putting her head out of the window.
+
+"_Mais oui, Mademoiselle_," I heard the man answer.
+
+"Then stop where you are, please, until I give you new orders."
+
+"I should have thought this was the sort of street where nothing could
+possibly happen," said I.
+
+"Wait a little, and maybe you'll find out you're mistaken. If nothing
+does, and we aren't amused, we can go on somewhere else."
+
+She had not finished speaking when a handsome electric carriage spun
+almost noiselessly round the corner. It slowed down before a gate set in
+a high wall, almost covered with creepers, and though the street was
+dimly lighted and we had stopped at a little distance, I could see that
+the house behind the wall, though not large, was very quaint and pretty,
+an unusual sort of house for Paris, it seemed to me.
+
+Scarcely had the electric carriage come to a halt when the chauffeur, in
+neat, dark livery, jumped down to open the door; and quickly a tall,
+slim woman sprang out, followed by another, elderly and stout, who
+looked like a lady's maid.
+
+I could not see the face of either, but the light of the lamp on our
+side of the way shone on the hair of the slim young woman in black, who
+got down first. It was gorgeous hair, the colour of burnished copper. I
+had heard a man say once that only two women in the world had hair of
+that exact shade: Jane Hading and Maxine de Renzie.
+
+My heart gave a great bound, and I guessed in an instant why Lisa had
+brought me here, though how she could have learned where to find the
+house, I didn't know.
+
+"Oh, Lisa!" I reproached her. "How _could_ you?"
+
+"It really _was_ an inspiration. I'm sure of that now," she said
+quietly, though I could tell by her tone that she was trying to hide
+excitement. "You never saw that woman before, except once on the stage,
+yet you know who she is. You jumped as if she had fired a shot at you."
+
+"I know by the hair," I answered. "I might have foreseen this would be
+the kind of thing you would think of--it's like you."
+
+"You ought to be grateful to me for thinking of it," said Lisa. "It's
+entirely for your sake; and it's quite true, it was an inspiration to
+come here. This afternoon in the train I read an interview in 'Femina'
+with Maxine de Renzie, about the new play she's produced to-night. There
+was a picture of her, and a description of her house in the Rue
+d'Hollande."
+
+"Now you have satisfied your curiosity. You've seen her back, and her
+maid's back, and the garden wall," I said, more sharply than I often
+speak to Lisa. "I shall tell the driver to take us to the hotel at once.
+I know why you want to wait here, but you shan't--I won't. I'm going
+away as quickly as I can."
+
+She caught my dress as I would have leaned out to speak to the driver.
+Her manner had suddenly changed, and she was all softness and sweetness,
+and persuasiveness.
+
+"Di, dearest girl, _don't_ be cross with me; please don't
+misunderstand," she implored. "I love you, you know, even if you
+sometimes think I don't; I want you to be happy--oh, wait a moment, and
+listen. I've been so miserable all day, knowing you were miserable; and
+I've felt horribly guilty for fear, after all, I'd said too much. Of
+course if you'd guessed where I meant to come, you wouldn't have stirred
+out of the hotel, and it was better for you to see for yourself. Unless
+Ivor Dundas came here with a motor-cab, as we did, he could hardly have
+arrived yet, so if he does come, we shall know. If he _doesn't_ come, we
+shall know, too. Think how happy you'll feel if he _doesn't!_ I'll
+apologise to you then, frankly and freely; and I suppose you would not
+mind apologising to him, if necessary?"
+
+"He may be in the house now," I said, more to myself than to Lisa.
+
+"If he is, he'll come out and meet her when he hears the gate open.
+There, it's open now. The maid's unlocked it. No, there's nobody in the
+garden."
+
+"I can't stop here and watch for him, like a spy," I said.
+
+"Not like a spy, but like a girl who thinks she may have done a man an
+injustice. It's for _his_ sake I ask you to stay. And if you won't, I
+must stay alone. If you insist on going away, I'll get out and stand in
+the street, either until Ivor Dundas has come, or until I'm sure he
+isn't coming. But how much better to wait and see for yourself."
+
+"You know I can't go off and leave you standing here," I answered. "And
+I can't leave you sitting in the carriage, and walk through the streets
+alone. I might meet--" I would not finish my sentence, but Lisa must
+nave guessed the name on my lips.
+
+"The only thing to do, then, is for us to stop where we are, together,"
+said Lisa, "for stop I must and shall, in justice to myself, to Ivor
+Dundas and to you. You couldn't force me away, even if you wanted to use
+force."
+
+"Which you know is out of the question," I said, desperately. "But why
+has your conscience begun to reproach you for trying to put me against
+Ivor? You seemed to have no scruples whatever, last night and this
+morning."
+
+"I've been thinking hard since then. I want my warning to you either to
+be justified, or else I want to apologise humbly. For if Ivor doesn't
+come to this house to-night, in spite of his embarrassment when he spoke
+about an engagement, I shall believe that he doesn't care a rap about
+Maxine de Renzie."
+
+I said no more, but leaned back against the cushions, my heart beating
+as if it were in my throat, and my brain throbbing in time with it. I
+could not think, or argue with myself what was really right and wise to
+do. I could only give myself up, and drift with circumstances.
+
+"A man has just come round the far corner," whispered Lisa. "Is it Ivor?
+I can't make out. He doesn't look our way."
+
+"Thank Heaven we're too far off for him to see our faces! I would rather
+die than have Ivor know we're here," I broke out.
+
+"I don't think it is Ivor," Lisa went on. "He's hidden himself in the
+shadow, as if he were watching. It's _that_ house he's interested in.
+Who can he be, if not Ivor? A detective, perhaps."
+
+"Why should a detective watch Mademoiselle de Renzie's house?" I asked,
+in spite of myself.
+
+Lisa seemed a little confused, as if she had said something she
+regretted.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure," she answered hastily. "Why, indeed? It was
+just a thought. The man seems so anxious not to be seen. Oh--keep back,
+Di, don't look out for an instant, till he's passed. Ivor is coming now.
+He's walking in a great hurry. There! he can't see you. He's far enough
+away for you to peep, and see for yourself. He's at Maxine de Renzie's
+gate."
+
+It was all over, then, and no more hope. His eyes when they gave me that
+tragic look had lied, even as his lips had lied last night, when he told
+me there was no other woman in his world but me.
+
+"I won't look," I stammered, almost choking.
+
+"Someone, I can't see who, is letting him in. The gate's shut behind
+him."
+
+"Let us go now," I begged.
+
+"No, no, not yet!" cried Lisa. "I must know what happens next. We are in
+the midst of it, indeed."
+
+I hardly cared what she did, now. Ivor had come to see Maxine de Renzie,
+and nothing else mattered very much. I had no strength to insist that we
+should go.
+
+"I wonder what the man in the shadow would do if he saw us?" Lisa said.
+Then she leaned out, on the side away from the hiding man, and softly
+told our chauffeur to go very slowly along the street. This he did, but
+the man did not move.
+
+"Stop before that house behind the wall with the creepers," directed
+Lisa, but I would not allow that.
+
+"No, he shall not stop there!" I exclaimed. "Lisa, I forbid it. You've
+had your way in everything so far. I won't let you have it in this."
+
+"Very well, we'll turn the corner into the next street, to please you,"
+said Lisa; and she gave orders to the chauffeur again. "Now stop," she
+cried, when we had gone half way down the street, out of sight and
+hearing of anyone in the Rue d'Hollande. Then, in another instant,
+before I had any idea what she meant to do, she was out of the cab,
+running like a child in the direction whence we had come. I looked after
+her, hesitating whether or not to follow (for I could not bear to risk
+meeting Ivor), and saw that she paused at the corner. She was peeping
+into the Rue d'Hollande, to find out what was happening there.
+
+"She will come back in a moment or two," I said to myself wearily, and
+sat waiting. For a little while she stood with her long dress gathered
+up under her cloak: then she darted round the corner and vanished. If
+she had not appeared again almost at once, I should have had to tell the
+driver to follow, though I hated the thought of going again into the
+street where Maxine de Renzie lived. But she did come, and in her hand
+was a pretty little brocade bag embroidered with gold or silver that
+sparkled even in the faint light.
+
+"I saw this lying in the street, and ran to pick it up," she exclaimed.
+
+"You might better have left it," I said stiffly. "Perhaps Mademoiselle
+de Renzie dropped it."
+
+"No, I don't think so. It wasn't in front of her house."
+
+"It may belong to that man who was watching, then."
+
+"It doesn't look much like a thing that a man would carry about with
+him, does it?"
+
+"No," I admitted, indifferently. "Now we will go home."
+
+"Don't you want to wait and see how long Ivor Dundas stops?"
+
+"Indeed I don't!" I cried. "I don't want to know any more about him."
+And for the moment I almost believed that what I said was true.
+
+"Very well," said Lisa, "perhaps we do know enough to prove to us both
+that I haven't anything to reproach myself with. And the less you think
+about him after this, the better."
+
+"I shan't think about him at all," I said. But I knew that was a boast I
+should never be able to keep, try as I might. I felt now that I could
+understand how people must feel when they are very old and weary of
+life. I don't believe that I shall feel older and more tired if I live
+to be eighty than I felt then. It was a slight comfort to know that we
+were on our way back to the hotel, and that soon I should be in my room
+alone, with the door shut and locked between Lisa and me; but it was
+only very slight. I couldn't imagine ever being really pleased about
+anything again.
+
+"You will marry Lord Robert now, I suppose," chirped Lisa, "and show
+Ivor Dundas that he hasn't spoiled your life."
+
+As she asked this question she was tugging away at a knot in the ribbons
+that tied the bag she had found.
+
+"Perhaps I shall," I answered. "I might do worse."
+
+"I should think you might!" exclaimed Lisa. "Oh, do accept him soon. I
+don't want Ivor Dundas to say to himself that you're broken-hearted for
+him. Lord Bob is sure to propose to you to-morrow--even if he hasn't
+already: and if he has, he'll do it again. I saw it in his eye all
+to-day. He was dying to speak at any minute, if only he'd got a chance
+with you alone. You _will_ say 'yes' when he does, won't you, and have
+the engagement announced at once?"
+
+"I'll see how I feel at the time, if it comes," I answered, trying to
+speak gaily, but making a failure of it.
+
+At last Lisa had got the brocade bag open, and was looking in. She
+seemed surprised by what she saw, and very much interested. She put in
+her hand, and touched the thing, whatever it was; but she did not tell
+me what was there. Probably she wanted to excite my curiosity, and make
+me ask. But I didn't care enough to humour her. If the bag had been
+stuffed full of the most gorgeous jewels in the world, at that moment I
+shouldn't have been interested in the least. I saw Lisa give a little
+sidelong peep up at me, to see if I were watching; but when she found me
+looking entirely indifferent, she tied up the bag again and stowed it
+away in one of the deep pockets of her travelling cloak.
+
+I was afraid that, when we'd arrived at the hotel and gone up to our
+rooms Lisa might want to stop with me, and be vexed when I turned her
+out, as I felt I must do. But she seemed to have lost interest in me and
+my affairs, now that all doubt was settled. She didn't even wish to talk
+over what had happened; but when I bade her good-night, simply said,
+"good-night" in return, and let me shut the door between the rooms.
+
+"I suppose," I thought, "that the best thing I shall have to hope for
+after this, until I grow quite old, is to sleep, and be happy in my
+dreams." But though I tried hard to put away thoughts of all kinds, and
+fall asleep, I couldn't. My eyes would not stay closed for more than a
+minute at a time; and always I found myself staring at the window, hour
+after hour, hoping for the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+DIANA HEARS NEWS
+
+It seemed as if the night would never end. If I had been vain, and
+deserved to be punished for my vanity, then I was well punished now; I
+felt so ashamed and humiliated.
+
+It must have been long after one when I went to bed, yet I was thankful
+when dawn came, and gave me an excuse to get up. After I had had a cold
+bath, however, I felt better, and a cup of steaming hot coffee
+afterwards did me good. I was all dressed when Morton, Aunt Lilian's
+maid, knocked at my door to ask if I were up, and if she could help me
+do my hair. "Her Ladyship" sent me her love, and hoped I had rested
+nicely. She would be pleased to hear that I was looking well.
+
+Looking well! I was glad to know that, though it surprised me. I stared
+at myself in the glass, and wondered that so many hours of misery had
+made so little impression on my face. I was rather paler than usual,
+perhaps, but my cheeks were faintly pink, and my lips red. I suppose
+while one is young one can suffer a good deal and one's face tell no
+secret.
+
+We were to make a very early start to examine the wonderful motor-car
+which Lord Robert West had advised Aunt Lil to buy. Afterwards she and
+Lisa and I had planned to do a little shopping, because it would seem a
+waste of time to be in Paris and bring nothing away from the shops. But
+when I tapped at Lisa's door (dreading, yet wishing, to have our first
+greeting over), it appeared that she had a bad headache and did not want
+to go with us to see the Rajah's automobile. While I was with her Aunt
+Lil came in, looking very bright and handsome.
+
+She was "so sorry" for Lisa, and not at all sorry for me (how little she
+guessed!); and before taking me away with her, promised to come back
+after it was settled about the car, to see whether Lisa were well enough
+by that time for the shopping expedition.
+
+The automobile really was a "magnificent animal," as Aunt Lil said, and
+it took her just two minutes, after examining it from bonnet to
+tool-boxes, to make up her mind that she could not be happy without it.
+It was sixty horsepower, and of a world-renowned make; but that was a
+detail. _Any_ car could be powerful and well made; every car should be,
+or you would not pay for it; but she had never seen one before with such
+heavenly little arrangements for luggage and lunch; while as for the
+gold toilet things, in a pale grey suède case, they were beyond words,
+and she must have them--the motor also, of course, since it went with
+them.
+
+So that was decided; and she and I drove back to the hotel, while the
+two men went to the Automobile Club, of which Lord Bob was an honorary
+member.
+
+If possible, all formalities were to be got through with the Rajah's
+agent and the car paid for. At two o'clock, when we were to meet the men
+at the Ritz for luncheon, they were to let us know whether everything
+had been successfully arranged: and, if so, Aunt Lil wanted the party to
+motor to Calais in her new automobile, instead of going by train. Lord
+Bob would drive, but he meant to hire a chauffeur recommended by the
+Club, so that he would not have to stop behind and see to getting the
+car across the Channel in a cargo boat.
+
+Aunt Lil was very much excited over this idea, as she always is over
+anything new, and if I was rather quiet and uninterested, she was too
+much occupied to notice.
+
+Lisa was looking worse when we went back to her at the hotel, but Aunt
+Lil didn't notice that either. She is always nice to Lisa, but she
+doesn't like her, and it is only when you really care for people that
+you observe changes in them when you are busy thinking of your own
+affairs.
+
+I advised Lisa to rest in her own room, instead of shopping, as she
+would have the long motor run later in the day, and a night journey; but
+she was dressed and seemed to want to go out. She had things to do, she
+said, and though she didn't buy anything when she was with us, while we
+were at a milliner's in the Rue de la Paix choosing hats for Aunt Lil,
+she disappeared on some errand of her own, and only came back just as we
+were ready to leave the shop. Whatever it was that she had been doing,
+it had interested her and waked her out of herself, for her eyes looked
+brighter and she had spots of colour on her cheeks.
+
+Aunt Lil found so much to do, and was sure we could easily carry so many
+things in the motor-car, that it was a rush to meet Uncle Eric and Lord
+Bob at the Ritz, by two o'clock. But we did manage it, or nearly. We
+were not more than ten minutes late, which was wonderful for Aunt Lil:
+and the short time that we'd kept them waiting wasn't enough to account
+for the solemnity of the two men's faces as they came forward to meet
+us.
+
+"Something's gone wrong about the car!" exclaimed Aunt Lil.
+
+"No, the car's all right," said Lord Bob. "I've got you a chauffeur too,
+and--"
+
+"Then what has happened? You both look like thunder-clouds, or wet
+blankets, or something disagreeable. It surely can't be because you're
+hungry that you're cross about a few minutes."
+
+"Have you seen a newspaper to-day?" asked Uncle Eric.
+
+"A newspaper? I should think not, indeed; we've had too many important
+things to do to waste time on trifles. Why, has the Government gone
+out?"
+
+"Ivor Dundas has got into a mess here," Uncle Eric answered, looking
+very much worried--so much worried that I thought he must care even more
+about Ivor than I had fancied.
+
+"Of course it's the most awful rot," said Lord Bob, "but he's accused of
+murder."
+
+"It's in the evening papers: not a word had got into the morning ones,"
+Uncle Eric went on. "We've only just seen the news since we came here to
+wait for you; otherwise I should have tried to do something for him. As
+it is, of course I must, as a friend of his, stop in Paris and do what I
+can to help him through. But that needn't keep the rest of you from
+going on to-day as you planned."
+
+"What an awful thing!" exclaimed Aunt Lil. "I will stay too, if the
+girls don't mind. Poor fellow! It may be some comfort to him to feel
+that he has friends on the spot, standing by him. I've got thousands of
+engagements--we all have--but I shall telegraph to everybody. What about
+you, Lord Bob?"
+
+"I'll stand by, with you, Lady Mountstuart," said he, his nice though
+not very clever face more anxious-looking than I had ever seen it, his
+blue, wide-apart eyes watching me rather wistfully. "Dundas and I have
+never been intimate, but he's a fine chap, and I've always admired him.
+He's sure to come out of this all right."
+
+Poor Lord Robert! I hadn't much thought to give him then; but dimly I
+felt that his anxiety was concerned with me even more than with Ivor, of
+whom he spoke so kindly, though he had often shown signs of jealousy in
+past days.
+
+I felt stunned, and almost dazed. If anyone had spoken to me, I think I
+should have been dumb, unable to answer; but nobody did speak, or seem
+to think it strange that I had nothing to say.
+
+"I suppose you won't try to do anything until after lunch, will you,
+Mountstuart?" Lord Robert went on to ask.
+
+"No, we must eat, and talk things over," said Uncle Eric.
+
+We went into the restaurant, I moving as if I were in a dream. Ivor
+accused of murder! What had he done? What could have happened?
+
+But I was soon to know. As soon as we were seated at a table, where the
+lovely, fresh flowers seemed a mockery, Aunt Lil began asking questions.
+
+For some reason, Uncle Eric apparently did not like answering. It was
+almost as if he had had some kind of previous knowledge of the affair,
+of which he didn't wish to speak. But, I suppose, it could not have been
+that.
+
+It was Lord Robert who told us nearly everything; and always I was
+conscious that he was watching me, wondering if this were a cruel blow
+for me, asking himself if he were speaking in a tactful way of one who
+had been his rival.
+
+"There was that engagement of Dundas' last night, which he was just
+going to keep when we saw him," said Lord Bob, carefully, but clumsily.
+"I'm afraid there must have been something fishy about that--I mean,
+some trap must have been laid to catch him. And, it seems, he wasn't
+supposed to be in Paris--though I don't see what that can have to do
+with the plot, if there is one. He was stopping in the hotel under
+another name. No doubt he had some good reason, though. There's nothing
+sly about Dundas. If ever there was a plucky chap, he's one. Anyhow,
+apparently, he wanted to get hold of a man in Paris he couldn't find,
+for he called last evening on a detective named Girard, a rather
+well-known fellow in his line, I believe. It almost looks as if Dundas
+had made an enemy of him, for he's been giving evidence pretty freely to
+the police--lost no time about it, anyhow. Girard says he was following
+up the scent, tracking down the person he'd been hired by Dundas to hunt
+for, and had at last come to the house where he was lodging, when there
+he found Dundas himself, ransacking the room, covered with blood, and
+the chap who was wanted, lying dead on the floor, his body hardly cold."
+
+"What time was all that?" enquired Lisa sharply. It was the first
+question she had asked.
+
+"Between midnight and one o'clock, I think the papers said," answered
+Lord Bob.
+
+"Well, of course it's all nonsense," exclaimed Aunt Lil impatiently.
+"French people are so sensational, and they jump at conclusions so. The
+idea of their daring to accuse a man like Ivor Dundas of murder! They
+ought to know better. They'll soon be eating humble-pie, and begging
+England's pardon for wrongful treatment of a British subject, won't
+they, Eric?"
+
+"I'm afraid there's no question of jumping at conclusions on the part of
+the authorities, or of eating humble-pie," Uncle Eric said. "The
+evidence--entirely circumstantial so far, luckily--is dead against Ivor.
+And as for his being a British subject, there's nothing in that. If an
+Englishman chooses to commit a murder in France, he's left to the French
+law to deal with, as if he were a Frenchman."
+
+"But Ivor hasn't committed murder!" cried Aunt Lilian, horrified.
+
+"Of course not. But he's got to prove that he hasn't. And in that he's
+worse off than if this thing happened in England. English law supposes a
+man innocent until he's been proved guilty. French law, on the contrary,
+presumes that he's guilty until he's proved innocent. In face of the
+evidence against Ivor, the authorities couldn't have done otherwise than
+they have done."
+
+For the first time in my life I felt angry with Aunt Lilian's husband. I
+do hate that cold, stern "sense of justice" on which men pride
+themselves so much, whether it's an affair of a friend or an enemy!
+
+"Surely Mr. Dundas must have been able to prove an--an--don't you call
+it an alibi?" asked Lisa.
+
+"He didn't try to," replied Lord Bob. "He's simply refused, up to the
+present, to tell what he was doing between twelve o'clock and the time
+he was found, except to say that he walked for a good while before going
+to the house where Girard afterwards found him. Of course he denies
+killing the man: says the fellow had stolen something from him, on the
+boat crossing from Dover to Calais yesterday, and that after applying to
+the detective, he got a note from the thief, offering to give the thing
+back if he would call and name a reward. Says he found the room already
+ransacked and the fellow dead, when he arrived at the address given him;
+that he was searching for his property when Girard appeared on the
+scene."
+
+"Couldn't he have shown the note sent by the thief?" asked Aunt Lil.
+
+"He did show a note. But it does him more harm than good. And he
+wouldn't tell what the thing was the thief had taken from him, except
+that it was valuable. It does look as if he were determined to make the
+case as black as possible against himself; but then, as I said before,
+no doubt he has good reasons."
+
+"He has no good luck, anyhow!" sighed Aunt Lil, who always liked Ivor.
+
+"Rather not--so far. Why, one of the worst bits of evidence against him
+is that the concierge of this house in the Rue de la Fille Sauvage
+swears that though Dundas hadn't been in the place much above half an
+hour when the detective arrived, he was there then _for the second
+time_, that he admitted it when he came. The first visit he made,
+according to the concierge, was about an hour before the second: the
+concierge was already in bed in his little box, but not asleep, when a
+man rang and an English-sounding voice asked for Monsieur Gestre. On
+hearing that Gestre was away, the visitor said he would see the
+gentleman who was stopping in Gestre's room. By and by the Englishman
+went out, and on being challenged, said he might come back again later.
+After a while the concierge was waked up once more by a caller for
+Gestre, who announced that he'd been before; and now he vows that it was
+the same man both times, though Dundas denies having called twice. If he
+could prove that he'd been in the house no more than half an hour, it
+might be all right, for two doctors agree that the murdered man had been
+dead more than an hour when they were called in. But he can't or won't
+prove it--that's his luck again!--and nobody can be found who saw him in
+any of the streets through which he mentions passing. The last moment
+that he can be accounted for is when a cabman, who'd taken him up at the
+hotel just after he left us, set him down in the Rue de Courbvoie, not
+so very far from the Élysée Palace. Then it was only between five and
+ten minutes past twelve, so he could easily have gone on to the Rue de
+la Fille Sauvage afterwards and killed his man at the time when the
+doctors say the fellow must have died. It's a bad scrape. But of course
+Dundas will get out of it somehow or other, in the end."
+
+"Do _you_ think he will, Eric?" asked Aunt Lil.
+
+"I hope so with all my heart," he answered. But his face showed that he
+was deeply troubled, and my heart sank down--down.
+
+As I realised more and more the danger in which Ivor stood, my
+resentment against him began to seem curiously trivial. Nothing had
+happened to make me feel that I had done him an injustice in thinking he
+cared more for Maxine de Renzie than for me--indeed, on the contrary,
+everything went to prove his supreme loyalty to her whose name he had
+refused to speak, even for the sake of clearing himself. Still, now that
+the world was against him, my soul rushed to stand by his side, to
+defend him, to give him love and trust in spite of all.
+
+Down deep in my heart I forgave him, even though he had been cruel, and
+I yearned over him with an exceeding tenderness. More than anything on
+earth, I wanted to help him; and I meant to try. Indeed, as the talk
+went on while that terrible meal progressed, I thought I saw a way to do
+it, if Lisa and I should act together.
+
+I was so anxious to have a talk with her that I could hardly wait to get
+back to our own hotel, from the Ritz. Fortunately, nobody wanted to sit
+long at lunch, so it wasn't yet three when I called her into my room.
+The men had gone to make different arrangements about starting, for we
+were not to leave Paris until they had had time to do something for
+Ivor. Uncle Eric went to see the British Ambassador, and Aunt Lilian had
+said that she would be busy for at least an hour, writing letters and
+telegrams to cancel engagements we had had in London. For awhile Lisa
+and I were almost sure not to be interrupted; but I spoke out abruptly
+what was in my mind, not wishing to lose a minute.
+
+"I think the only thing for us to do," I said, "is to tell what we know,
+and save Ivor in spite of himself."
+
+"How can anything you know save him?" she asked, with a queer, faint
+emphasis which I didn't understand.
+
+"Don't you see," I cried, "that if we come forward and say we saw him in
+the Rue d'Hollande at a quarter past twelve--going into a house
+there--he couldn't have murdered the man in that other house, far away.
+It all hangs on the time."
+
+"But you didn't see him go in," Lisa contradicted me.
+
+I stared at her. "_You_ did. Isn't it the same thing?"
+
+"No, not unless I choose to say so."
+
+"And--but you will choose. You want to save him, of course."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because he's innocent. Because he's your friend."
+
+"No man is the friend of any woman, if he's in love with another."
+
+"Oh, Lisa, does sophistry of that sort matter? Does anything matter
+except saving him?"
+
+"I don't consider," she said, in a slow, aggravating way, "that Ivor
+Dundas has behaved very well to--to our family. But I want you to
+understand this, Di. If he is to be got out of this danger--no doubt
+it's real danger--in any such way as you propose, it's for _me_ to do
+it, not you. He'll have to owe his gratitude to me. And there's
+something else I can do for him, perhaps--I, and only I. A thing of
+value was stolen from him, it seems, a thing he was anxious to get back
+at any price--even the price of looking for it on a dead man's body.
+Well, I think I know what that thing was--I think I have it."
+
+"What do you mean?" I asked, astonished at her and at her manner--and
+her words.
+
+"I'm not going to tell you what I mean. Only I'm sure of what I'm
+saying--at least, that the thing _is_ valuable, worth risking a great
+deal for. I learned that from experts this morning, while you and your
+aunt were thinking about hats."
+
+For an instant I was completely bewildered. Then, suddenly, a strange
+idea sprang into my mind:
+
+"That brocade bag you picked up in the Rue d'Hollande last night!"
+
+It was the first time I had thought of it from that moment to
+this--there had been so many other things which seemed more important.
+
+Lisa looked annoyed. I think she had counted on my not remembering, or
+not connecting her hints with the thing she had found in the street, and
+that she had wanted to tantalise me.
+
+"I won't say whether I mean the brocade bag or not, and whether, if I
+do, that I believe Ivor dropped it, or whether there was another man
+mixed up in the case--perhaps the real murderer. If I _do_ decide to
+tell what I know and what I suspect, it won't be to you--unless for a
+very particular reason--and it won't be yet awhile."
+
+I'm afraid that I almost hated her for a moment, she seemed so cold, so
+calculating and sly. I couldn't bear to think that she was my
+step-sister, and I was glad that, at least, not a drop of the same blood
+ran in our veins.
+
+"If you choose to keep silent for some purpose of your own," I broke
+out, "you can't prevent me from telling the whole story, as _I_ know
+it--how I went out with you, and all that."
+
+"I can't prevent you from doing it, but I can advise you not to--for
+Ivor's sake," she answered.
+
+"For his sake?"
+
+"Yes, and for your own, too, if you care for his opinion of you at all.
+For his sake, because _neither_ of us knows when he came out of Maxine
+de Renzie's house. You _would_ go away, though I wanted to stay and
+watch. He may not have been there more than five minutes for all we can
+tell to the contrary, in which case he would still have had time to go
+straight off to the Rue de la Fille Sauvage and kill that man, in
+accordance with the doctors' statements about the death. For _your_
+sake, because if he knows that you tracked him to Maxine de Renzie's
+house, he won't respect you very much; and because he would probably be
+furious with you, unable to forgive you as long as he lived, for
+injuring the reputation of the woman he's risked so much to save. He'd
+believe you did it out of spiteful jealousy against her."
+
+I grew cold all over, and trembled so that I could hardly speak.
+
+"Ivor would know that I'm incapable of such baseness."
+
+"I'm not sure he'd hold you above it. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman
+scorned'--and he _has_ scorned you--for an actress."
+
+It was as if she had struck me in the face: and I could feel the blood
+rush up to my cheeks. They burned so hotly that the tears were forced to
+my eyes.
+
+"You see I'm right, don't you?" Lisa asked.
+
+"You may be right in thinking I could do him no good in that way--and
+that he wouldn't wish it, even if I could. But not about the rest," I
+said. "We won't talk of it any more. I can't stand it. Please go back to
+your room now, Lisa, I want to be alone."
+
+"Very well," she snapped, "_you_ called me in. I didn't ask to come."
+
+Then she went out, with not another word or look, and slammed the door.
+I could imagine myself compelling her to give up the brocade bag, or
+offering her some great bribe of money, thousands of pounds, if
+necessary. Lisa is a strange little creature. She will do a good deal
+for money.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+DIANA UNDERTAKES A STRANGE ERRAND
+
+If I had not been tingling with anger against Lisa, who had seemed to
+enjoy saying needlessly cruel things to me, perhaps I would have been
+utterly discouraged when she pricked the bubble of my hope. She had made
+me realise that the plan I had was useless, perhaps worse than useless;
+but in my desperate mood I caught at another. I would try to see Ivor,
+and find out some other way of helping him. At all events he should know
+that I was for him, not against him, in this time of trouble.
+
+Perhaps this new idea was a mad one, I told myself. Perhaps I should not
+be allowed to see him, even in the presence of others. But while there
+was a "perhaps" I wouldn't give up. Without waiting for a cooler or more
+cowardly mood to set in, I almost ran out of my room, and downstairs,
+for I hadn't taken off my hat and coat since coming in.
+
+I had no knowledge of French law, or police etiquette, or anything of
+that sort. But I knew the French as a gallant nation; and I thought that
+if a girl should go to the right place begging for a short conversation
+with an accused man, as his friend, an interview--probably with a
+witness--might possibly be granted. The authorities might think that we
+were engaged, for all I cared. I did not care about anything now, except
+seeing Ivor, and helping him if I could.
+
+I hardly knew what I meant to do at the beginning, by way of getting the
+chance I wanted, until I had asked to have a motor-cab called for me.
+Then, I suddenly thought of the British Ambassador, a great friend of
+Uncle Eric's and Aunt Lilian's. Uncle Eric had already been to him, but
+I fancied not with a view of trying to see Ivor. That idea had
+apparently not been in his mind at all. Anyway, the Ambassador would
+already understand that the family took a deep interest in the fate of
+Ivor Dundas, and would not be wholly astonished at receiving a call from
+me. Besides, hearing of some rather venturesome escapades of mine when I
+first arrived in London, he had once, while visiting Uncle Eric, laughed
+a good deal and said that in future he would be "surprised at nothing an
+American girl might do."
+
+I told the driver to go to the British Embassy as fast as he could.
+There, I sent in my name, and the Ambassador received me at once. I
+didn't explain much, but came to the point immediately, and said that I
+wanted--oh, but wanted and needed very much indeed--to see Ivor Dundas.
+Could he, would he help me to do that?
+
+"Ought I to help you?" he asked. "Would Mountstuart and Lady Mountstuart
+approve?"
+
+"Yes," I said firmly. "They would approve. You see, it is necessary."
+
+"Then, if it's necessary--and I believe you when you say that it is," he
+answered, "I'll do what I can."
+
+What he could do and did do, was to write a personal letter to the Chief
+of Police in Paris, asking as a favour that his friend, Miss Forrest, a
+young lady related through marriage to the British Foreign Secretary,
+should be allowed five minutes' conversation with the Englishman accused
+of murder, Mr. Ivor Dundas.
+
+I took the letter to the Chief of Police myself, to save time, and
+because I was so restless and excited that I must be doing something
+every instant--something which I felt might bring me nearer to Ivor.
+
+From the Chief of Police, who proved to be a most courteous person, I
+received an order to give to the governor of the gaol or prison where
+they had put Ivor. This, he explained, would procure me the interview I
+wanted, but unfortunately, I must not hope to see my friend alone. A
+warder who understood English would have to be present.
+
+So far I had gone into the wild venture without once thinking what it
+would be to find myself suddenly face to face with Ivor in such terrible
+circumstances, or what he would think of me for coming in such a way now
+that we were no longer anything to each other--not even friends. But a
+kind of ague-terror crept over me while I sat waiting in an ugly little
+bare, stuffy reception room. My head was going round and round, my heart
+was pounding so that I could not make up my mind what to say to Ivor
+when he came.
+
+Then, suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps outside the door; and
+when it opened, there stood Ivor, between two Frenchmen in blue
+uniforms. One of them walked into the room with him--I suppose he must
+have been a warder--but he stopped near the door, and in a second I had
+forgotten all about him. He simply ceased to exist for me, when my eyes
+and Ivor's had met.
+
+I sprang up from my chair and began to talk as quickly as I could,
+stammering and confused, hardly knowing what I said, but anxious to make
+him understand in the beginning that I had not come to take back my
+words of yesterday.
+
+"We're all so dreadfully sorry, Mr. Dundas," I said. "I don't know if
+Uncle Eric has been here yet--but he is doing all he can, and Aunt
+Lilian is dreadfully upset. We're staying on in Paris on account of--on
+account of this. So you see you've got friends near you. And I--we're
+such old friends, I couldn't help trying as hard as I could for a sight
+of you to--to cheer you up, and--and to help you, if that's possible."
+
+I spoke very fast, not daring to look at him after the first, but
+pretending to smooth out some wrinkles in one of my long gloves. My eyes
+were full of tears, and I was afraid they'd go splashing down my cheeks,
+if I even winked my lashes. I loved him more than ever now, and felt
+capable of forgiving him anything, if only I had the chance to forgive,
+and if only, _only_ he really loved me and not that other.
+
+"Thank you, a hundred times--more than I can express," he said, with a
+faint quiver in his voice--his beautiful voice, which was the first
+thing that charmed me after knowing him. "It _does_ cheer me to see you.
+It gives me strength and courage. You wouldn't have come if you
+didn't--trust me, and believe me innocent."
+
+"Why, of course, I--we--believe you innocent of any crime," I faltered.
+
+"And of any lack of faith?"
+
+"Oh, as for that, how can--but don't let's speak of that. What can it
+matter now?"
+
+"It matters more than anything else in the world. If only you could say
+that you will have faith!"
+
+"I'll try to say it then, if it can give you any comfort."
+
+"Not unless you mean it."
+
+"Then--I'll try to mean it. Will that satisfy you?"
+
+"It's better than nothing. And I thank you again. As for the rest,
+you're not to be anxious. Everything will come right for me sooner or
+later, though I may have to suffer some annoyances first."
+
+"Annoyances?" I echoed. "If there were nothing worse!"
+
+"There won't be. I shall be well defended. It will all be shown up as a
+huge mistake--another warning against trusting to circumstantial
+evidence."
+
+"Is there nothing we can do then? Or--that we would urge _others_ to
+do?" I asked, hoping he would understand that I meant _one_
+other--Maxine de Renzie.
+
+I guessed by his look that he did understand. It was a look of gloom;
+but suddenly a light flashed in his eyes.
+
+"There is one thing _you_ could do for me--you and no one else," he
+said. "But I have no right to ask it."
+
+"Tell me what it is," I implored.
+
+"I would not, if it didn't mean more than my life to me." He hesitated,
+and then, while I wondered what was to come, he bent forward and spoke a
+few hurried words in Spanish. He knew that to me Spanish was almost as
+familiar as English. He had heard me talk of the Spanish customs still
+existing in the part of California where I was born. He had heard me
+sing Spanish songs. We had sung them together--one or two I had taught
+him. But I had not taught him the language. He learned that, and three
+or four others at least, as a boy, when first he thought of taking up a
+diplomatic career.
+
+They were so few words, and so quickly spoken, that I--remembering the
+warder--almost hoped they might pass unnoticed. But the man in uniform
+came nearer to us at once, looking angry and suspicious.
+
+"That is forbidden," he said to Ivor. Then, turning sharply to me. "What
+language was that?"
+
+"Spanish," I answered. "He only bade me good-bye. We have been--very
+dear friends, and there was a misunderstanding, but--it's over now. It
+was natural he shouldn't want you to hear his last words to me."
+
+"Nevertheless, it is forbidden," repeated the warder obstinately, "and
+though the five minutes you were granted together are not over yet, the
+prisoner must go with me now. He has forfeited the rest of his time, and
+must be reported."
+
+With this, he ordered Ivor to leave the room, in a tone which sounded to
+me so brutal that I should have liked him to be shot, and the whole
+French police force exterminated. To hear a little underbred policeman
+dare to speak like that to my big, brave, handsome Englishman, and to
+know that it would be childish and undignified of Ivor to resist--oh, I
+could have killed the creature with my own hands--I think!
+
+As for Ivor, he said not another word, except "good-bye," smiling half
+sadly, half with a twinkle of grim humour. Then he went out, with his
+head high: and just at the door he threw me back one look. It said as
+plainly as if he had spoken: "Remember, I know you won't fail me."
+
+I did indeed remember, and I prayed that I should have pluck and courage
+not to fail. But it was a very hard thing that he had asked me to do,
+and he had said well in saying that he would not ask it of me if it did
+not mean more than his life.
+
+The words he had whispered so hastily and unexpectedly in Spanish, were
+these: "Go to the room of the murder alone, and on the window balcony
+find in a box under flower-pots a folded document. Take this to Maxine.
+Every moment counts."
+
+So it seemed that it was always of her he thought--of Maxine de Renzie!
+And I, of all people in the world, was to help him, with her.
+
+As I thought of this task he'd set me, and of all it meant, it appeared
+more and more incredible that he should have had the heart to ask such a
+thing of me. But--it "meant more than his life." And I would do the
+thing, if it could be done, because of my pride.
+
+As I drove away from the prison a kind of fury grew in me and possessed
+me. I felt as if I had fire instead of blood in my veins. If I had known
+that death, or worse than death, waited for me in the ghastly house to
+which Ivor had sent me, I would still have gone there.
+
+My first thought was to go instantly, and get it over--with success or
+failure. But calmer thoughts prevailed.
+
+I hadn't looked at the papers yet. My only knowledge of last night's
+dreadful happenings had come from Uncle Eric and Lord Robert West. I had
+said to myself that I didn't wish to read the newspaper accounts of the
+murder, and of Ivor's supposed part in it. I remembered now, however,
+that I did not even know in what part of Paris the house of the murder
+was. I recalled only the name of the street, because it was a curiously
+grim one--like the tragedy that had been acted in it.
+
+I couldn't tell the chaffeur to drive me to the street and house. That
+would be a stupid thing to do. I must search the papers, and find out
+from them something about the neighbourhood, for there would surely be
+plenty of details of that sort. And I must do this without first going
+back to the hotel, as it might be very difficult to get away again, once
+I was there. Now, nobody knew where I was, and I was free to do as I
+pleased, no matter what the consequences might be afterwards.
+
+Passing a Duval restaurant, I suddenly ordered my motor-cab to stop.
+Having paid, and sent it away, I went upstairs and asked for a cup of
+chocolate at one of the little, deadly respectable-looking marble
+tables. Also I asked to see an evening paper.
+
+It was a shock to find Ivor's photograph, horribly reproduced, gazing at
+me from the front page. The photograph was an old one, which had been a
+good deal shown in shop windows, much to Ivor's disgust, at about the
+time when he returned from his great expedition and published his really
+wonderful book. I had seen it before I met him, and as it must have been
+on sale in Paris as well as London, it had been easy enough for the
+newspaper people to get it. Then there came the story of the murder,
+built up dramatically. Hating it, sickened by it, I yet read it all. I
+knew where to go to find the house, and I knew that the murder had been
+committed in a back room on the top floor. Also I saw the picture of the
+window with the balcony. Ivor was supposed--according to Girard, the
+detective--to have tried in vain to escape by way of this high balcony,
+on hearing sounds outside the door while busy in searching the dead
+man's room. Girard said that he had seen him first, by the light of a
+bull's-eye lantern, which he--Girard--carried, standing at bay in the
+open window. There was a photograph of this window, taken from outside.
+There was the balcony: and there was the balcony of another window with
+another balcony just like it, on the adjoining house. I looked at the
+picture, and judged that there would not be more than two feet of
+distance between the railings of those two balconies.
+
+"That would be my way to get there--if I can get there at all," I said
+to myself. But there was hardly any "if" left in my mind now. I meant to
+get there.
+
+By this time it was after five o'clock. I left the Duval restaurant, and
+again took a cab. The first thing I did was to send a _petit bleu_ to
+Aunt Lilian, saying that she wasn't to worry about me. I'd been hipped
+and nervous, and had gone out to see a friend who was--I'd just found
+out--staying in Paris. Perhaps I should stop with the friend to dinner;
+but at latest I should be back by nine or ten o'clock. That would save a
+bother at the hotel (for Aunt Lilian knew I had heaps of American
+friends who came every year to Paris), yet no one would know where to
+search for me, even if they were inclined.
+
+Next, I drove to a street near the Rue de la Fille Sauvage, and
+dismissed my cab. I asked for no directions, but after one or two
+mistakes, found the street I wanted. Instead of going to the house of
+the murder, I passed on to the next house on the left--the house of the
+balcony almost adjoining the dead man's.
+
+I rang the bell for the concierge, and asked him if there were any rooms
+to let in the house. I knew already that there were, for I could see the
+advertisement of "_Chambres à louer_" staring me in the face: but I
+spoke French as badly as I could, making three mistakes to every
+sentence, and begged the man to talk slowly in answering me.
+
+There were several rooms to be had, it appeared, but it would have been
+too good to be true that the one I wanted should be empty. After we had
+jabbered awhile, I made the concierge understand that I was a young
+American journalist, employed by a New York paper. I wanted to "write
+up" the murder of last night, according to my own ideas, and as of
+course the police wouldn't let me go into the room where it happened,
+the next best thing would be to take the room close to it, in the house
+adjoining. I wanted to be there only long enough to "get the emotion,
+the sensation," I explained, so as to make my article really dramatic.
+Would the people who occupied that room let it to me for a few hours?
+Long before bedtime they could have it back again, if I got on well with
+my writing.
+
+The concierge, to whom I gave ten francs as a kind of retaining fee, was
+almost sure the occupants of the room (an old man and his wife) would
+willingly agree to such a proposal, if I paid them well enough for their
+trouble in turning out.
+
+Would three louis be enough? I asked. The concierge--whose eyes
+brightened--thought that it would. I knew by his look that he would take
+a large commission for managing the affair, as he quickly offered to do;
+but that didn't matter to me.
+
+He confirmed my idea that it would have been hopeless to try and get
+into the room of the murder itself, even if I could have borne it,
+saying that the door, and window too, had been sealed by the police, who
+were also guarding the house from curiosity seekers; but he added that I
+could see the shut window from the balcony of the room I was going to
+hire.
+
+I waited for him, and played with his very unattractive baby while he
+went upstairs to make enquiries. He was gone for some time, explaining
+to the people; but at last, when my patience was almost too far
+strained, he came back to say that Monsieur and Madame Nissot had
+consented to go out of their room for the evening. They were dining at
+the moment, however, and Mademoiselle must be pleased to wait a few
+moments until they finished the meal and gathered up a few things which
+they could carry to a neighbour's: books, and work for their hours of
+absence, the concierge politely suggested. But that was to save my
+feelings, no doubt, for I was sure the husband and wife meant to make a
+parcel of any valuables which could possibly be carried off by an
+unscrupulous American journalist. Also, they stipulated that payment
+must be made in advance. To this I agreed willingly. And then--I waited,
+waited. It was tedious, but after all, the tediousness didn't matter
+much when I came to think of it. It would be impossible to do the thing
+I had made up my mind to do, till after dark.
+
+
+
+
+MAXINE DE RENZIE'S PART
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+MAXINE MAKES A BARGAIN
+
+We looked everywhere, in all possible places, for the diamond necklace,
+Raoul and I; and to him, poor fellow, its second loss seemed
+overwhelming. He did not see in glaring scarlet letters always before
+his eyes these two words: "The treaty," as I did--for my punishment. He
+was in happy ignorance still of that other loss which I--I, to whom his
+honour should have been sacred--had inflicted upon him. He was satisfied
+with my story; that through a person employed by me--a person whose name
+could not yet be mentioned, even to him--the necklace had been snatched
+from the thief who had stolen it. He blamed himself mercilessly for
+thinking so little of the brocade bag which I had given him at parting,
+for letting all remembrance of my words concerning it be put out of his
+mind by his "wicked jealousy," as he repentantly called it. For me, he
+had nothing but praise and gratitude for what I had done for him. He
+begged me to forgive him, and his remorse for such a small thing,
+comparatively--wrung my heart.
+
+We searched the garden and the whole street, then came back to search
+the little drawing-room for the second time, in vain. It did seem that
+there was witchcraft in it, as I said to Raoul; but at last I persuaded
+him to go away, and follow his own track wherever he had been since I
+gave him the bag with the diamonds. It was just possible, as it was so
+late, and his way had led him through quiet streets, that even after all
+this time the little brocade bag might be lying where he had left it--or
+that some honest policeman on his beat might have picked it up. Besides,
+there was the cab in which he had come part of the distance to my house.
+The bag might have fallen on the floor while he drove: and there were
+many honest cabmen in Paris, I reminded him, trying to be as cheerful as
+I could.
+
+So he left me. And I was deadly tired; but I had no thought of sleep--no
+wish for it. When I had unlocked the door of my boudoir and found Ivor
+Dundas gone, as I had hoped he would be, the next hope born in my heart
+was that he might by and by come back, or send--with news. Hour after
+hour of deadly suspense passed on, and he did not come or make any sign.
+At five o'clock Marianne, who had flitted about all night like a
+restless ghost, made me drink a cup of hot chocolate, and actually put
+me to bed. My last words to her were: "What is the use? I can't sleep.
+It will be worse to lie and toss in a fever, than sit up."
+
+Yet I did sleep, and heavily. She will always deny it, I know, but I'm
+sure she must have slyly slipped a sleeping-powder into the chocolate. I
+was far too much occupied with my own thoughts, as I drank to please
+her, to think whether or no there was anything at all peculiar in the
+taste.
+
+Be that as it may, I slept; and when I waked suddenly, starting out of a
+hateful dream (yet scarcely worse than realities), to my horror it was
+nearly noon.
+
+I was wild with fear lest the servants, in their stupid but well-meant
+wish not to disturb me, might have sent important visitors away.
+However, when Marianne came flying in, in answer to my long peal of the
+electric bell, she said that no one had been. There were letters and one
+telegram, and all the morning papers, as usual after the first night of
+a new play.
+
+My heart gave a spring at the news that there was a telegram, for I
+thought it might be from Ivor, saying he was on the track of the treaty,
+even if he hadn't yet got hold of it. But the message was from Raoul;
+and he had not found the brocade bag. He did not put this in so many
+words, but said, "I have not found what was lost, or learned anything of
+it."
+
+From Ivor there was not a line, and I thought this cruel. He might have
+wired, or written me a note, even if there were nothing definite to say.
+He might, unless--something had happened to him. There was that to think
+of; and I did think of it, with dread, and a growing presentiment that I
+had not suffered yet all I was to suffer. I determined to send a servant
+to the Élysée Palace Hotel to enquire for him, and despatched Henri
+immediately. Meanwhile, as there was nothing to do, after pretending to
+eat breakfast under the watchful eyes of Marianne, I pretended also to
+read the newspaper notices of the play. But each sentence went out of my
+head before I had begun the next. I knew in the end only that, according
+to all the critics, Maxine de Renzie had "surpassed herself," had been
+"astonishingly great," had done "what no woman could do unless she threw
+her whole soul into her part." How little they knew where Maxine de
+Renzie's soul had been last night! And--only God knew where it might be
+this night. Out of her body, perhaps--the one way of escape from Raoul's
+hatred, if he had come to know the truth.
+
+Of course the enquiry at the hotel was not for Ivor Dundas, but for the
+name he had adopted there; yet when my servant came back to me he had
+nothing to tell which was consoling--rather the other way. The gentleman
+had gone out about midnight (I knew that already), and hadn't returned
+since. Henri had been to the Bureau to ask, and it had struck him, he
+admitted to me on being catechised, that his questions had been answered
+with a certain reserve, as if more were known of the absent gentleman's
+movements than it was considered wise to tell.
+
+My servant had not been long away, though it seemed long to me, and he
+had delayed only to buy all the evening papers, which he "thought that
+Mademoiselle would like to see, as they were sure to be filled with
+praise of her great acting." It was on my tongue to scold him for
+stopping even one moment, when he had been told to hurry, but he looked
+so pleased at his own cleverness that I hadn't the heart to dash his
+happiness. I would, however, have pushed the papers aside without so
+much as glancing at them, if it hadn't suddenly occurred to me that, if
+any accident had befallen Ivor, news of it might possibly have got into
+print by this time.
+
+When I read what had happened--how he was accused of murder, and while
+declaring his innocence had been silent as to all those events which
+might have proved it, my heart went out to him in a wave of gratitude.
+Here was a man! A man loyal and brave and chivalrous as all men ought to
+be, but few are! He had sacrificed himself to the death, no doubt, to
+keep my name out of the mud into which my business had thrown him, and
+to save me from appearing in Raoul's eyes the liar that I was. Had Ivor
+told that he was with me, after I had prevaricated (if I had not
+actually lied) to Raoul about the midnight visitor to my house, what
+would Raoul think of me?
+
+Ivor was trying to save me, if he could; and he had been trying to save
+me when he went to the room of that dead man, though how and when he had
+decided to go I knew not. If it were not for me, he would be free and
+happy to-day.
+
+My conscience cried out that the one thing to do was to go at once to
+the Chief of Police and say: "Monsieur, this English gentleman they have
+arrested cannot have committed a murder in the Rue de la Fille Sauvage,
+between twelve and one last night, for he came to my house, far away in
+the Rue d'Hollande, at a quarter past twelve, and didn't leave it till
+after one o'clock."
+
+I even sprang up from my chair in the very room where I had hidden Ivor,
+to ring for Marianne and tell her to bring me a hat and coat, to bid her
+order my electric brougham immediately. But--I sat down again, sick and
+despairing, deliberately crushing the generous impulse. I couldn't obey
+it. I dared not. By and by, perhaps. If Ivor should be in real pressing
+danger, then certainly. But not now.
+
+At four o'clock Raoul came, and was with me for an hour. Each of us
+tried to cheer the other. I did all I could to make him hope that even
+yet he would have news of the brocade bag and its contents. He, thinking
+me ill and tired out, did all he could to persuade me that he was not
+miserable with anxiety. At least, he was no longer jealous of Godensky
+or of any man, and was humbly repentant for his suspicions of me the
+night before. When Raoul is repentant, and wishes to atone for something
+that he has done, he is enchanting. There was never a man like him.
+
+At five I sent him away, with the excuse that I must rest, as I hadn't
+slept much the night before; but really it was because I feared lest I
+should disgrace myself before him by breaking down, and giving him a
+fright--or perhaps even by being mad enough to confess the thing I had
+done. I felt that I was no longer mistress of myself--that I might be
+capable of any folly.
+
+I could not eat, but I drank a little beef-tea before starting for the
+theatre, where I went earlier than usual. It would be something to be
+busy; and in my part I might even forget for a moment, now and then.
+
+Marianne and I were in my dressing-room before seven. I insisted on
+dressing at once, and took as long as I could in the process of making
+up; still, when I was ready there was more than half an hour to spare
+before the first act. There were letters for me--the kind that always
+come to the theatre--but I couldn't read them, after I had occupied
+myself with tearing open the envelopes. I knew what they would be: vows
+of adoration from strangers; poems by budding poets; petitions for
+advice from girls and young men who wanted to go on the stage; requests
+from artists who wanted to paint my picture. There were always such
+things every night, especially after the opening of a new play.
+
+I was still aimlessly breaking fantastic seals, and staring unseeingly
+at crests and coronets, when there came a knock at the door. Marianne
+opened it, to speak for a moment with the stage door keeper.
+
+"Mademoiselle," she whispered, coming to me, "Monsieur le Comte Godensky
+wishes to see you. Shall I say you are not receiving?"
+
+I thought for a moment. Better see him, perhaps. I might learn
+something. If not--if he had only come to torture me uselessly to please
+himself, I would soon find out, and could send him away.
+
+I went into my little reception-room adjoining, and received him there.
+He advanced, smiling, as one advances to a friend of whose welcome one
+is sure.
+
+"Well?" I asked, abruptly, when the door was shut and we were alone. He
+held out his hand, but I put mine behind me, and drew back a step when
+he had come too close.
+
+"Well--I have news for you, that no one else could bring, so I thought
+you would be glad to see--even me," he answered, smiling still.
+
+"What news? But bad, of course--or you wouldn't bring it."
+
+"You are very cruel. Of course, you've seen the evening papers? You know
+that your English friend is in prison?"
+
+"The same English friend whom _you_ would have liked to see arrested
+early last evening on a ridiculous, baseless charge," I flung at him.
+"You look surprised. But you are _not_ surprised, Count
+Godensky--except, perhaps, that I should guess who had me spied upon at
+the Élysée Palace Hotel. A disappointment, that affair, wasn't it? But
+you haven't told me your news."
+
+"It is this: That Mr. Ivor Dundas, of England, has been on the rack
+to-day."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"He has been in the hands of the Juge d'Instruction. It is much the
+same, isn't it, if one has secrets to keep? Would you like to know, if
+some magical bird could tell you, what questions were put to Mr. Dundas,
+and what answers he made?"
+
+Strange, that this very thought had been torturing me before Godensky
+came! I had been thinking of the Juge d'Instruction, and his terrible
+cross-examination which only a man of steel or iron can answer without
+trembling. I had thought that questions had been asked and answers given
+which might mean everything to me, if I could only have heard them.
+Could it be that I was to hear, now? But I reminded myself that this was
+impossible. No one could know except the Juge d'Instruction and Ivor
+Dundas himself. "Only two men were present at that scene, and they will
+never tell what went on," I said aloud.
+
+"Three men were present," Godensky answered. "Besides the two of whom
+you think, there was another: a lawyer who speaks English. It is
+permitted nowadays that a foreigner, if he demands it, can be
+accompanied by his legal adviser when he goes before the Juge
+d'Instruction. Otherwise, his lack of knowledge of the language might
+handicap him, and cause misunderstandings which would prejudice his
+case."
+
+He paused a moment, but I did not reply. I knew that Ivor Dundas spoke
+French as well as I; but I was not going to tell this Russian that fact.
+
+"The adviser your friend has chosen," Godensky went on, "happens to be a
+protégé of mine. I made him--gave him his first case, his first success;
+and have employed him more than once since. Odd, what a penchant Mr.
+Dundas seems to have for men in whom I, too, have confidence! Last
+night, it was Girard. To-day, it is Lenormand."
+
+This was a blow, and a heavy one; but I wouldn't let Godensky see that I
+winced under it.
+
+"You keep yourself singularly well-informed of the movements of your
+various protégés," I said--"as well as those of your enemies. But if the
+information in the one case is no more trustworthy than in the
+other--why, you're not faithfully served. I've good reason to know that
+you've made several mistakes lately, and you're likely to make more."
+
+"Thanks for the warning. But I hope you don't call yourself my 'enemy'?"
+
+"I don't know of a more appropriate name--after the baseness that you
+haven't even tried to hide, in your dealings with me."
+
+"I thought all was fair in love and war."
+
+"Do you make war on women?"
+
+"No--I make love to them."
+
+"To many, I dare say. But here is one who won't listen."
+
+"At least you will listen while I go on with the news I came to tell?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I confess to being curious. No doubt what you say will be
+interesting--even if not accurate."
+
+"I can promise that it shall be both. I called on Lenormand as soon as I
+learned what had happened--that he'd been mixed up in this case--and
+expressed myself as extremely concerned for the fate of his client,
+friends of whom were intimate friends of mine. So you see, there was no
+question of treachery on Lenormand's part. He trusts me--as you do not.
+Indeed, I even offered my help for Dundas, if I could give it
+consistently with my position. Naturally, he told me nothing which could
+be used against Dundas, so far as he knew, even if I wished to go
+against him--which my coming here ought to prove to you that I do not."
+
+"I read the proof rather differently," I said. "But go on. I'm sure you
+are anxious to tell me certain things. Please come to the point."
+
+"In a few words, then, the point is this: One of the most important
+questions put by the Juge d'Instruction, after hearing from Mr. Dundas
+the explanation of a document found on him by the police--ah, that wakes
+you up, Mademoiselle! You are surprised that a document was found on the
+prisoner?"
+
+I was half fainting with fear lest Ivor had regained the treaty, only to
+lose it again in this dreadful way; but I controlled myself.
+
+"I rather hope it was not a letter from me," I said. "You know so much,
+that you probably know I admitted to the police at the Élysée Palace a
+strong friendship for Mr. Dundas. We knew each other well in London. But
+London ways are different from the ways of Paris. It isn't agreeable to
+be gossipped about, however unjustly, even if one is--only an actress."
+
+"You turn things cleverly, as always. Yes, you are afraid there might
+have been--a letter. Yet the public adores you. It would pardon you any
+indiscretion, especially a romantic one--any indiscretion _except
+treachery_. There might, however, be a few persons less indulgent. Du
+Laurier, for instance."
+
+I shivered. "We were speaking of the scene with the Juge d'Instruction,"
+I reminded him. "You have wandered from the point again."
+
+"There are so many points--all sharp as swords for those they may
+pierce. Well, the important question was in relation to a letter--yes.
+But the letter was not from you, Mademoiselle. It was written in
+English, and it made an appointment at the very address where the crime
+was committed. It was, as nearly as I could make out, a request from a
+person calling himself a jeweller's assistant, for the receiver of the
+letter to call and return a case containing jewels. This case had been
+committed to Mr. Dundas' care, it appeared, while travelling from London
+to Paris, and without his knowledge, another packet being taken away to
+make room for this. Mr. Dundas replied to the Juge d'Instruction that
+his own packet, stolen from him on the journey, contained nothing but
+papers _entirely personal,_ concerning himself alone.
+
+"'What was in the case which the man afterwards murdered slipped into
+your pocket?' asked the Juge d'Instruction--Lenormand tells me.
+
+"'A necklace,' answered Mr. Dundas.
+
+"'A necklace of diamonds?'
+
+"'Possibly diamonds, possibly paste, I wasn't much interested in it.'
+
+"'Ah, was this not the necklace which you--staying at the Élysée Palace
+under another name--gave to Mademoiselle Maxine de Renzie last evening?'
+was the next question thrown suddenly at Mr. Dundas' head. Now, you see,
+Mademoiselle, that my story is not dull."
+
+"Am I to hear the rest--according to your protégé?" I asked, twisting my
+handkerchief, as I should have liked to twist Godensky's neck, till he
+had no more breath or wickedness left in him.
+
+"Mr. Dundas tried his best to convince the Juge d'Instruction, a most
+clever and experienced man, that if he had, as an old friend, brought
+you a present of diamonds, it was something entirely different, and
+therefore far removed from this case.
+
+"'Are you not Mademoiselle de Renzie's lover?' was the next enquiry. 'I
+admire her, as do thousands of others, who also respect her as I do,'
+your friend returned very prettily. At last, dearest lady, you begin to
+see what there is in this string of questions and answers to bring me
+straight to you?"
+
+"No, Count Godensky, I do not," I answered steadily. But a sudden
+illuminating ray did show me, even as I spoke, what _might_ be in his
+scheming mind.
+
+"Then I must be clear, and, above all, frank. Du Laurier loves you. You
+love him. You mean, I think, to marry him. But deeply in love as he is,
+he is a very proud fellow. He will have all or nothing, if I judge him
+well; and he would not take for his wife a woman who accepts diamonds
+from another man, saying as she takes them that he is her lover."
+
+"He wouldn't believe it of me!" I cried.
+
+"There is a way of convincing him. Oh, _I_ shall not tell him! But he
+shall see in writing all that passed between the Juge d'Instruction and
+Mr. Dundas, unless--"
+
+"Unless?--but I know what you mean to threaten. You repeat yourself."
+
+"Not quite, for I have new arguments, and stronger ones. I want you,
+Maxine. I mean to have you--or I will crush you, and now you know I can.
+Choose."
+
+I sprang up, and looked at him. Perhaps there was murder in my eyes, as
+for a moment there was in my heart, for he exclaimed:
+
+"Tigeress! You would kill me if you could. But that doesn't make me love
+you less. Would du Laurier have you if he knew what you are--as he will
+know soon unless you let me save you? Yet I--I would love you if you
+were a murderess as well as a--spy."
+
+"It is you who are a spy!" I faltered, now all but broken.
+
+"If I am, I haven't spied in vain. Not only can I ruin you with du
+Laurier, and before the world, but I can ruin him utterly and in all
+ways."
+
+"No--no," I gasped. "You cannot. You're boasting. You can do nothing."
+
+"Nothing to-night, perhaps. I'm not speaking of to-night. I am giving
+you time. But to-morrow--or the day after. It's much the same to me. At
+first, when I began to suspect that something had been taken from its
+place, I had no proof. I had to get that, and I did get it--nearly all I
+wanted. This affair of Dundas might have been planned for my advantage.
+It is perfect. All its complications are just so many links in a chain
+for me. Girard--the man Dundas chose to employ--was the very man I'd
+sent to England; on what errand, do you think? To watch your friend the
+British Foreign Secretary. He followed Dundas to Paris on the bare
+suspicion that there'd been, communication between the two, and he was
+preparing a report for me when--Dundas called on him."
+
+"What connection can Ivor Dundas' coming to Paris have with Raoul du
+Laurier?" I dared to ask.
+
+"You know best as to that."
+
+"They have never met. Both are men of honour, and--"
+
+"Men of honour are tricked by women sometimes, and then they have to
+suffer for being fools, as if they had been villains. Think what such a
+man--a man of honour, as you say--would feel when he found out the
+woman!"
+
+"A woman can be calumniated as well as a man," I said. "You are so
+unscrupulous you would stoop to anything, I know that. Raoul du Laurier
+has done nothing; I--I have done nothing of which to be ashamed. Yet you
+can lie about us, ruin him perhaps by a plot, as if he were guilty,
+and--and do terrible harm to me."
+
+"I can--without the trouble of lying. And I will, unless you'll give up
+du Laurier and make up your mind to marry me. I always meant to have
+you. You are the one woman worthy of me."
+
+"You are the man most unworthy of any woman. But, give me till to-morrow
+evening--at this time--to decide. Will you promise me that?"
+
+"No, I know what you would do. You would kill yourself. It is what is in
+your mind now. I won't risk losing you. I have waited long enough
+already. Give me a ring of yours, and a written word from you to du
+Laurier, saying that you find you have made a mistake; and not only will
+I do nothing to injure him, but will guard against the discovery of--you
+know what. Besides, as a matter of course, I'll bring all my influence
+to bear in keeping your name out of this or any other scandal. I can do
+much, everything indeed, for I admit that it was through me the
+Commissary of Police trapped you with Dundas. I will say that I
+blundered. I know what to do to save you, and I will do it--for my
+future wife."
+
+"No power on earth could induce me to break with Raoul du Laurier in the
+way you wish," I said. "If--if I am to give him up, I must tell him with
+my own lips, and bid him good-bye. I will do this to-morrow, if you will
+hold your hand until then."
+
+We looked at each other for a long moment in silence. Godensky was
+trying to read my mind, and to make up his accordingly.
+
+"You swear by everything you hold sacred to break with him to-morrow?"
+
+"By the memory of my father and mother, martyred by bureaucrats like
+you, I pledge my word that--that--if I can't break with Raoul, to let
+you know the first thing in the morning, and dare you to do--what you
+will."
+
+"You will not 'dare' me, I think. And because I think so, I will wait--a
+little longer."
+
+"Until this time to-morrow?"
+
+"No. For if you cheated me, it would be too late to act for another
+twelve hours. But I will give you till to-morrow noon. You agree to
+that?"
+
+"I agree." My lips formed the words. I hardly spoke them; but he
+understood, and with a flash in his eyes took a step towards me as if to
+snatch my hand. I drew away. He followed, but at this instant Marianne
+appeared at the door.
+
+"There is a young lady to see Mademoiselle," she announced, her
+good-natured, open face showing all her dislike of Count Godensky. "A
+young lady who sends this note, begging that Mademoiselle will read it
+at once, and consent to see her."
+
+Thankful that the tête-à-tête had been interrupted, I held out my hand
+for the letter. Marianne gave it to me. I glanced at the name written
+below the lines which only half filled the first page of theatre paper,
+and found it strange to me. But, even if I had not been ready to snatch
+at the chance of ridding myself immediately of Godensky, the few words
+above the unfamiliar name would have made me say as I did say, "Bring
+the young lady in at once."
+
+    "I come to you from Mr. Dundas, on business which he told me was
+    of the greatest and most pressing importance.
+
+    "DIANA FORREST."
+
+That was the whole contents of the note; but a dozen sheets closely
+filled with arguments could not have moved me more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+MAXINE MEETS DIANA
+
+Godensky was obliged to take his leave, which he did abruptly, but to
+all appearance with a good grace; and when he was gone Marianne ushered
+in a girl--a tall, beautiful girl in a grey tailor dress built by an
+artist.
+
+For such time as it might have taken us to count twelve, we looked at
+each other; and as we looked, a little clock on the mantel softly chimed
+the quarter hour. In fifteen minutes I should be due upon the stage.
+
+The girl was very lovely. Yes, lovely was the right word for her--lovely
+and lovable. She was like a fresh rose, with the morning dew of youth on
+its petals--a rose that had budded and was beginning to bloom in a fair
+garden, far out of reach of ugly weeds. I envied her, for I felt how
+different her sweet, girl's life had been from my stormy if sometimes
+brilliant career.
+
+"Mr. Dundas sent you to me?" I asked. "When did you see him? Surely
+not--since--"
+
+"This afternoon," she answered quietly, in a pretty, un-English sounding
+voice, with a soft little drawl of the South in it. "I went to see him.
+They gave us five minutes. A warder was there; but speaking quickly in
+Spanish, just a few words, he--Mr. Dundas--managed to tell me a thing he
+wished me to do. He said it meant more than his life, so I did it; for
+we have been friends, and just now he's helpless. The warder was angry,
+and stopped our conversation at once, though the five minutes weren't
+ended. But I understood. Mr. Dundas said there wasn't a moment to lose."
+
+"Yet that was in the afternoon, and you only come to me at this hour!" I
+exclaimed.
+
+"I had something else to do first," she said, in the same quiet voice.
+She was looking down now, not at me, and her eyelashes were so long that
+they made a shadow on her cheeks. But the blood streamed over her face.
+
+"Even before I saw--Mr. Dundas," she went on, "I had the idea of calling
+on you--about a different matter. I think it would be more honest of me,
+if before I go on I tell you that--quite by accident, so far as I was
+concerned--I was with someone who saw Mr. Dundas go to your house last
+night, a little after twelve. I didn't dream of spying on--either of
+you. It just happened, it wouldn't interest you to know how. Yet--I beg
+of you to tell me one thing. Was he with you for long--so long that he
+couldn't have got to the other place in time to commit the murder?"
+
+"He was in my house until after one," I said boldly. "But you, if you
+are his friend, ought to know him well enough to be certain without such
+an assurance from me, that he is no murderer."
+
+"Oh, I am certain," she protested. "I asked the question, not for that
+reason, but to know if you could really prove his innocence, if you
+choose. Now, I find you can. When I read the papers this afternoon, at
+first I wanted to rush off to the police and tell them where he had been
+while the murder was being committed. But I didn't know how long he had
+stopped in your house, and, besides--"
+
+"You would have dared to do that!" I broke in, the blood, angry blood,
+stinging my cheeks more hotly than it stung hers.
+
+"It wasn't a question of daring," she answered. "I thought of him more
+than of you; but I thought of you, too. I knew that if I were in your
+place, no matter how much harm I might do to myself, I would confess
+that he had been in my house."
+
+"There are reasons why I can't tell that he was there," I said, trying
+to awe her by speaking coldly and proudly. "His visit was entirely on
+business. But Mr. Dundas understands why I must keep silence, and he
+approves. You know he has remained silent himself."
+
+"For your sake, because he is a gentleman--brave and chivalrous. Would
+you take advantage of that?"
+
+"You take advantage of me," I flung back at the girl, looking her up and
+down. "You pretend that you came from Mr. Dundas with a pressing message
+for me. Do you want me to believe _this_ his message? I think too well
+of him."
+
+"I don't want you to believe that," she answered. "I haven't come to the
+message yet. I have earned a right to speak to you first, on my own
+account."
+
+"In twelve minutes I must be on the stage," I said.
+
+"The stage!" she echoed. "You can go on acting just the same, though he
+is in prison--for you!"
+
+"I must go on acting. If I didn't, I should do him more harm than good."
+
+"I won't keep you beyond your time. But I beg that you _will_ do him
+good. If you care for him at all, you must want to save him."
+
+"If I care for him?" I repeated, in surprise. "You think--oh, but I
+understand now. You are the girl he spoke of."
+
+She blushed deeply, and then grew pale.
+
+"I did not think he would speak of me," she said. "I wish he hadn't.
+But, if you know everything, the little there is to know, you must see
+that you have nothing to fear from any rivalry of mine, Mademoiselle de
+Renzie."
+
+"Why," I exclaimed, "you speak as if you thought Ivor Dundas my lover."
+
+"I don't know what you are to each other," she faltered, all her
+coolness deserting her. "That isn't my affair--"
+
+"But I say it is. You shall not make such a mistake. Mr. Dundas cares
+nothing for me, except as a friend. He never did, though we flirted a
+little a year ago, to amuse ourselves. Now, I am engaged to marry a man
+whom I worship. I would gladly die for him. Ivor Dundas knows that, and
+is glad. But the other man is jealous. He wouldn't understand--he would
+want to kill me and himself and Ivor Dundas, if he knew that Ivor was in
+my house last night. He was there too, and I lied to him about Ivor. How
+could I expect him to believe the real truth now? He is a man. But _you_
+will believe, because you are a woman, like myself, and I think the
+woman Ivor Dundas loves."
+
+Her beautiful eyes brightened. "He told you--that?"
+
+"He told me he loved a girl, and was afraid that he would lose her
+because of the business which brought him to me. You seem to have been
+as unreasonable with him, as Ra--as the man I love could be with me.
+Poor Ivor! Last night was not the first time that he sacrificed himself
+for chivalry and honour. Yet you blame me! Look to yourself, Miss
+Forrest."
+
+"I--I don't blame you," she stammered, a sob in her voice. "Only I beg
+you to save him, from gratitude, if not from love."
+
+"It's true I owe him a debt of gratitude, deeper than you know," I
+answered. "He is worth trusting--worth saving, at the expense of almost
+any sacrifice. But I can't sacrifice the man I love for him."
+
+She looked thoughtful. "You say the man you were engaged to was at your
+house while Ivor was there?"
+
+"Yes. He came then. I hid Ivor, and I lied."
+
+"He suspected that someone was with you? He stood watching, outside your
+gate?"
+
+"He confessed that, when I'd made him repent his jealousy. Why do you
+ask? You saw him?"
+
+"I think so. Tell me, Mademoiselle de Renzie, did he lose anything of
+value near your house?"
+
+"Great heavens, yes!" I cried. "What do you know of that?"
+
+"I know--something. Enough, maybe, to help you to find the thing for
+him--if you will promise to help Ivor."
+
+"Oh, shame," I cried violently, sick of bargains and promises. "You are
+trying to bribe me!"
+
+"Yes, but I am not ashamed," the girl answered, holding her head high.
+"I have not the thing which was lost; but I can get it for you--this
+very night or to-morrow morning, if you will do what I ask."
+
+"I tell you I cannot," I said. "Not even to get back that thing whose
+loss was the beginning of all my misery. Ivor would not wish me to ruin
+myself and--another. Mr. Dundas must be saved without me. Please go. If
+we talked of this together all night, it could make no difference. And
+I'm in great trouble, great trouble of my own."
+
+"Has your trouble anything to do with a document?" Miss Forrest slowly
+asked.
+
+I started, and stared at her, breathless.
+
+"It has!" she answered for me. "Your face tells me so."
+
+"Has Ivor's message--to do with that?" I almost gasped.
+
+"Perhaps. But he had no good news of it to give you. If you want
+news--if you want the document, it must be through me."
+
+"Anything, anything on earth you like to ask for the document, if you
+can get it for me, I will do," I pleaded, all my pride and anger gone.
+
+"I ask you to tell the police that Ivor Dundas was in your house from a
+little after midnight until after one. Will you do that?"
+
+"I must," I said, "if you have the document to sell, and are determined
+to sell it at no other price. But if I do what you ask, it will spoil my
+life, for it will kill my lover's love, when he knows I have lied to
+him. Still, it will save him from--" I stopped, and bit my lip. "Will
+you give me the diamonds, too?" I asked, humbly enough now.
+
+"The diamonds?" She looked bewildered.
+
+"The diamonds in the brocade bag. Oh, surely they _are_ still in the
+bag?"
+
+"Yes, they are--they will be in the bag," the girl answered, her
+charming mouth suddenly resolute, though her eyes were troubled. "You
+shall have the diamonds, and the document, too, for that one promise."
+
+"How is it possible that you can give me the document?" I asked, half
+suspicious, for that it should come to me after all I had endured
+because of it seemed too good to be true; that it should come through
+this girl seemed incredible.
+
+"Ivor sent me to find it, and I found it," she said simply. "That was
+why I couldn't come to you before. I had to get the document. I didn't
+quite know how I was to do it at first, because I had no one to help or
+advise me; and Ivor said it was under some flower-pots in a box on the
+balcony of the room where the man was murdered. I was sure I wouldn't be
+allowed to get into the room itself, so it seemed difficult. But I
+thought it all out, and hired a room for the evening in a house next
+door, pretending I was a New York journalist. I had to wait until after
+dark, and then I climbed across from one balcony to the other. It wasn't
+as easy to do as it looked from the photograph I saw, because it was so
+high up, and the balconies were quite far apart, after all. But I
+couldn't fail Ivor; and I got across. The rest was nothing--except the
+climbing back. I don't know how the document came in the box, though I
+suppose Ivor put it there to hide it from the police. It was wrapped up
+in a towel; and it's quite clean."
+
+"I think," I said slowly, when she had finished her story, "that you
+have a right to set a high price on that document. You are a brave
+girl."
+
+"It's not much to be brave for a man you love, is it? And now I'm going
+to give the thing to you, because I trust you, Mademoiselle de Renzie. I
+know you'll pay. And I hope, oh, I _feel_, it won't hurt you as you
+think it will."
+
+Then, as if it had been some ordinary paper, she whipped from a long
+pocket of a coat she wore, the treaty. She put it into my hand. I felt
+it, I clasped it. I could have kissed it. The very touch of it made me
+tremble.
+
+"Do you know what this is, Miss Forrest?" I asked.
+
+"No," she said. "It was yours, or Ivor's. Of course I didn't look."
+
+And then there came the rap, rap, of the call-boy at the door. The
+fifteen minutes were over. But I had the treaty. And I had to pay its
+price.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+MAXINE PLAYS THE LAST HAND OF THE GAME
+
+When the play was over, I let Raoul drive home with me to supper. If
+Godensky knew, as he may have known--since he seemed to know all my
+movements--perhaps he thought that I was seeing Raoul for the last time,
+and sending him away from me for ever. But, though the game was not in
+my hands yet, the treaty was; and I had made up my mind to defy
+Godensky.
+
+I had almost promised that, if he held his hand, I would give Raoul up;
+and never have I broken my word. But if I wrote a letter to Godensky in
+the morning, saying I had changed my mind, that he could do his worst
+against Raoul du Laurier and against me, for nothing should part us two
+except death? Then he would have fair warning that I did not intend to
+do the thing to which he had nearly forced me; and I would fight him,
+when he tried to take revenge. But meanwhile, before he got that letter,
+I would--I must--find some way of putting the treaty back in its place
+at the Foreign Office.
+
+It was too soon to dare to be happy, yet; for it was on the cards that,
+even when I had saved Raoul from the consequences of my political
+treachery, Godensky might still be able to ruin me with him. Yet, the
+relief I felt after the all but hopeless anguish in which I had been
+drowning for the last few days gave to my spirit a wild exhilaration
+that night. I encouraged Raoul with hints that I had news of the
+necklace, and said that, if he would let me come to him in his office as
+soon as it was open in the morning, I might be able to surprise him
+pleasantly. Of course, he answered that it would give him the greatest
+joy to see me there, or anywhere; and we parted with an appointment for
+nine o'clock next day.
+
+When he had gone, I wrote a note--a very short note--to Count Godensky.
+I wanted to have it ready; but I did not mean to send it till the treaty
+was in the safe whence I had taken it. Then, the letter should go at
+once, by messenger; and it would still be very early in the day, I
+hoped.
+
+Usually, I have my cup of chocolate in bed at nine; but on the morning
+which followed I was dressed and ready to go out at half past eight. I
+think that I had not slept at all, but that didn't matter. I felt strong
+and fresh, and my heart was full of courage. I was leaving nothing to
+chance. I had a plan, and knew how I meant to play the last hand in the
+game. It might go against me. But I held a high trump. Again, as before,
+Raoul received me alone.
+
+"Dearest," he exclaimed, "I know your news must be good, for you look so
+bright and beautiful. Tell me--tell me!"
+
+I laughed, teasingly, though Heaven knew I was in no mood for teasing.
+
+"You're too impatient," I said. "To punish you for asking about the
+wretched diamonds before you enquired how I slept, and whether I dreamed
+of you, I shall make you pay a penalty."
+
+"Any penalty you will," he answered, laughing too, and entering into the
+joke--for he was happy and hopeful now, seeing that I could joke.
+
+"Let me sit down and write at your desk, on a bit of your paper," I
+said.
+
+He gave me pen and ink. I scribbled off a few words, and folded the note
+into an envelope.
+
+"Now, this is very precious," I went on. "It tells you all you want to
+know. But--I'm going to post it."
+
+"No, no!" he protested. "I can't wait for the post."
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't trust my treasure to the post office, not even if it
+were insured. Open that wonderful safe you gave me a peep into the other
+day, and I'll put this valuable document in among the others, not more
+valuable to the country than this ought to be to you. I'll hide it
+there, and you must shut up the safe without looking for it, till I've
+gone. Then, you must count ten, and after that--you may search.
+Remember, you said you'd submit to any penalty, so no excuses, no
+complaints."
+
+Raoul laughed. "You shall have your way, fantastic though it be, for you
+are a sorceress, and have bewitched me."
+
+He unlocked the door of the safe and stood waiting for me to gratify my
+whim. But I gaily motioned him behind me. "If you stand there you can
+see where I put it, and that won't! be fair play. Turn your back."
+
+He obeyed. "You see how I trust you!" he said. "There lie my country's
+secrets."
+
+"They're safe from me," I said pertly. (And so indeed they were--now.)
+"They're too uninteresting to amuse me in the least."
+
+As I spoke I found and abstracted the dummy treaty and slipped the real
+one into its place. Then I laid the envelope with the note I had written
+where he could not help finding it at first or second glance.
+
+"Now you can close the safe," I said.
+
+He shut the door, and I almost breathed aloud the words that burst from
+my heart, "Thank Heaven!"
+
+"I must leave you," I told him. And I was kind for a moment, capricious
+no longer, because, though the treaty had been restored, I was going to
+open the cage of Godensky's vengeance, and--I was afraid of him.
+
+"I may come to you as soon as I'm free?" Raoul asked.
+
+"Yes. Come and tell me what you think of the news, and--what you think
+of me," I said. And while I spoke, smiling, I prayed within that he
+might continue to think of me all things good--far better than I
+deserved, yet not better than I would try to deserve in the future, if I
+were permitted to spend that future with him.
+
+The next thing I did was to send my letter to Count Godensky. This was a
+flinging down of the glove, and I knew it well. But I was ready to fight
+now.
+
+Then, I had to keep my promise to Miss Forrest. But I had thought of a
+way in which, I hoped, that promise--fulfilled as I meant to fulfil
+it--might help rather than injure me. I had not lain awake all night for
+nothing.
+
+I went to the office of the Chief of Police, who is a gentleman and a
+patron of the theatre--when he can spare time from his work. I had met
+him, and had reason to know that he admired my acting.
+
+His first words were of congratulation upon my success in the new play;
+and he was as cordial, as complimentary, as if he had never heard of
+that scene at the Élysée Palace Hotel, about which of course he knew
+everything--so far as his subordinate could report.
+
+"Are you surprised to see me, Monsieur?" I asked.
+
+"A great delight is always more or less of a surprise in this work-a-day
+world," he gallantly replied.
+
+"But you can guess what has brought me?"
+
+"Would that I could think it was only to give me a box at the theatre
+this evening."
+
+"It is partly that," I laughed. "Partly for the pleasure of seeing you,
+of course. And partly--you know already, since you know everything, that
+I am a friend of Mr. Dundas, the young Englishman accused of a murder
+which he could not possibly have committed."
+
+"Could not possibly have committed? Is that merely your opinion as a
+loyal friend, or have you come to make a communication to me?"
+
+"For that--and to offer you the stage-box for to-night."
+
+"A thousand thanks for the box. As for the communication--"
+
+"It's this. Mr. Dundas was in my house at the time when, according to
+the doctors' statements, the murder must have been committed. Oh, it's a
+hard thing for me to come and tell you this!" I went on hastily. "Not
+that I'm ashamed to have received a call from him at that hour, as it
+was necessary to see him then, or not at all. He meant to leave Paris
+early in the morning. But--because I'm engaged to be married to--perhaps
+you know that, though, among other things?"
+
+"I've heard--a rumour. I didn't know that it amounted to an engagement.
+Monsieur du Laurier is to be a thousand times congratulated."
+
+"I love him dearly," I said simply. And, not because I am an actress,
+but because I am a a woman and had suffered all that I could bear, tears
+rose to my eyes. "I am true to him, and always have been. But--he is
+horribly jealous. I can't explain Mr. Dundas' night visit in a way to
+satisfy him. If Raoul finds out that an Englishman--well-known, but of
+whom I never spoke--was at my house after midnight, he will believe I
+have deceived him. Oh, Monsieur, if you would help me to keep this
+secret I am telling you so frankly!"
+
+"Keep the secret, yet use it to free the Englishman?" asked the Chief of
+Police gravely.
+
+"Yes, I ask no less of you; I beg, I implore you. It would kill me to
+break with Raoul du Laurier."
+
+"Dear Mademoiselle," said the good and gallant man, "trust me to do the
+best I can for you." (I could see that my tears had moved him.) "A grief
+to you would be a blow to Paris. Yet--well, as you have been frank, I
+owe it to you to be equally so on my side. I should before this have
+sent--quite privately and in a friendly way, to question you about this
+Mr. Dundas, who passed under another name at the hotel where you called
+upon him; but I received a request from a very high quarter to wait
+before communicating with you. Now, as you have come to me, I suppose I
+may speak."
+
+"Ask me any questions you choose," I said, "and I'll answer them."
+
+"Then, to begin with, since you are engaged to Monsieur du Laurier, how
+do you explain the statement you made at the hotel, concerning Mr.
+Dundas?"
+
+"That is one of the many things I have come here on purpose to tell
+you," I answered him; "for I am going to give you my whole confidence. I
+throw myself upon your mercy."
+
+"You do me a great honour. Will you speak without my prompting?"
+
+"Yes. I would prefer it. In England, a year ago, I had a little
+flirtation with Mr. Dundas--no more, though we liked and admired each
+other. We exchanged a few silly letters, and I forgot all about them
+until I fell in love with Raoul and promised to marry him--only a short
+time ago. Then I couldn't bear to think that I had written these foolish
+letters, and that, perhaps, Mr. Dundas might have kept them. I wrote and
+asked if he had. He answered that he had every one, and valued them
+immensely, but if I wished, he would either burn all, or bring them to
+me, whichever I chose. I chose to have him bring them, and I told him
+that I'd meet him at the Élysée Palace Hotel on a certain evening, to
+receive the letters from him."
+
+"He came, as I said, under another name. Why was that, Mademoiselle,
+since there was nothing for him to be ashamed of?"
+
+"He also is in love, and just engaged to be married to an American girl
+who lives with relations in London, in a very high position. He didn't
+want the girl to know he was coming to Paris, because, it seems, there
+had been a little talk about him and me, which she had heard. And she
+didn't like it."
+
+"I see. This gentleman started for Paris, I have learned, the first
+thing in the morning, the day after a ball at a house where he met the
+British Secretary for Foreign Affairs."
+
+"Perhaps. For I have enquired and found out that the girl--a Miss
+Forrest, is distantly connected with the British Foreign Secretary. She
+lives with her aunt, Lady Mountstuart, whose sister is married to that
+gentleman. And the Foreign Secretary is a cousin of Lord Mountstuart."
+
+"Ah, Miss Forrest!"
+
+"You know of her already?"
+
+"I have heard her name."
+
+(I guessed how: for she could not have seen Ivor Dundas in prison except
+through the Chief of Police; but I said nothing of that.)
+
+"You say you know how we met at the hotel, Mr. Dundas and I," I went on.
+"But I'll explain to you now the inner meaning of it all, which even you
+can't have found out. Mr. Dundas was to have brought me my letters--half
+a dozen. He gave me a leather case, which he took from an inner breast
+pocket, saying the letters were in it. But the room was dark. Something
+had gone wrong with the electricity, and I hadn't let him push back the
+curtains, for fear I might be seen from outside, if the lights should
+suddenly come on. He didn't see the case, as he handed it to me, nor
+could I. Just at that instant there was a knock at the door; and quick
+as thought I pushed the leather case down between the seat and back of
+the sofa."
+
+"But what reason had you to suppose that any danger of discovery
+threatened you because of a knock at the door?"
+
+"I'll tell you. There is a man--I won't mention his name, but you know
+it very well, and maybe it is in your mind now--who wants me to marry
+him. He has wanted it for some time--I think because he admires women
+who are before the public and applauded by the world; also, perhaps,
+because I have refused him, and he is one who wants most what he finds
+hardest to get. He is not a scrupulous person, but he has some power and
+a good deal of influence, because he is very highly connected, and when
+people have 'axes to grind' he helps to grind them. He has suspected for
+some time that I cared for M. du Laurier, and for that he has hated
+Raoul. I have fancied--that he hired detectives to spy upon me; and my
+instinct as well as common sense told me that he would let no chance
+slip to separate me from the man I love. He would work mischief between
+us--or he would try to ruin Raoul, or crush me--anything to keep us
+apart. When I saw the Commissary of Police I was hardly surprised, and
+though I didn't know what pretext had brought him, I said to myself
+'That is the work of--'"
+
+"Perhaps better not mention the name, Mademoiselle."
+
+"I didn't mean to. I leave that to your--imagination. 'This is the work
+of the man whose love is more cruel than hate,' I thought. While I
+wondered what possible use the police could make of my letters, I was
+shaking with terror lest they should come upon them and they should
+somehow fall into--a certain man's hands. Then, at last, they did find
+the case, just as I'd begun to hope it was safe. I begged the Commissary
+of Police not to open it. In vain. When he did, what was my relief to
+see the diamond necklace you must have heard of!--my relief and my
+surprise. And now I'm going to confide in you the secret of another,
+speaking to you as my friend, and a man of honour.
+
+"Those jewels had been stolen only a few days ago from Monsieur du
+Laurier, and he was in despair at their loss, for they belonged to a
+dear friend of his--an inveterate gambler, but an adorable woman. She
+dared not tell her husband of money that she'd lost, but begged Raoul to
+sell the diamonds for her in Amsterdam and have them replaced by paste.
+On his way there the necklace was stolen by an expert thief, who must
+somehow have learned what was going on through the pawnbroker with whom
+the jewels had been in pledge--for a few thousand francs only. You can
+imagine my astonishment at seeing the necklace returned in such a
+miraculous way. I thought that Ivor Dundas must have got it back,
+meaning to give it to me as a surprise--and the letters afterwards. And
+it was only to keep the letters out of the affair altogether at any
+price--evidences in black and white of my silly flirtation--and also to
+avoid any association of Raoul's name with the necklace, that I told the
+Commissary of Police the leather case had in it a present from my lover.
+I spoke impulsively, in sheer desperation; and the instant the words
+were out I would have cut off my hand to take back the stupid falsehood.
+But what good to deny what I had just said? The men wouldn't have
+believed me.
+
+"When the police had gone, I asked Mr. Dundas for my letters. But he
+thought he had given them to me--and he knew no more of the diamonds in
+their red case than I did--far less, indeed.
+
+"I was distracted to find that my letters had disappeared, though I was
+thankful for Raoul's sake, to have the necklace. Mr. Dundas believed
+that his own leather case with the letters must have been stolen from
+his pocket in the train, though he couldn't imagine why the diamonds had
+been given to him instead. But he suspected a travelling companion of
+his, who had acted queerly; and he determined to try and find the man.
+He was to bring me news after the theatre at my house, about midnight.
+
+"He came fifteen minutes later, having been detained at his hotel.
+Friends of his had unexpectedly arrived. He had just time to tell me
+this, and that after going out on a false scent he had employed a
+detective named Girard, when Monsieur du Laurier arrived unexpectedly.
+It seems, he'd been made frantically jealous by some misrepresentations
+of--the man whose name we haven't mentioned. I begged Mr. Dundas to hide
+in my boudoir, which he disliked doing, but finally did, to please me. I
+hoped that he would escape by the window, but it stuck, and to my horror
+I heard him there, in the dark, moving about. I covered the sounds as
+well as I could, and pacified Raoul, who thought he had seen someone
+come in. I hinted that it must have been the fiancé of a pretty
+housemaid I have. It was not till after one that Ivor Dundas finally got
+away; this I swear to you. What happened to him after leaving my house
+you know better than I do, for I haven't seen him since, as you are well
+aware."
+
+"He says he found a letter from the thief in his pocket, and went to the
+address named; that he couldn't get a cab and walked. But you have read
+the papers,"
+
+"Yes, and I know how loyal he has been to me. Why, he wouldn't even tell
+about the diamonds, much less my letters!"
+
+"As for these letters, you are still anxious about them, Mademoiselle?"
+
+"My hope is that Mr. Dundas found and had time to destroy them, rather
+than risk further delay."
+
+"You would like to know their fate?"
+
+"I would indeed."
+
+"Well, I applaud the Englishman's chivalry. Vive l'Entente Cordiale!"
+
+"You are a man to understand such chivalry, Monsieur. Now that I've
+humbled myself, can't you give me hope that he'll soon be released, and
+yet that--that I shan't be made to suffer for my confession to you? It's
+clear to you, isn't it, that the murder must have been done long before
+he could have reached the house in the Rue de la Fille Sauvage from the
+Rue d'Hollande?"
+
+"Yes, that is clear. And needless to say, I believe your statement,
+Mademoiselle. You are brave and good to have come forward as you have,
+without being called upon. There are still some formalities to be gone
+through before Mr. Dundas can be released; but English influence is at
+work in high quarters, and after what you have told me, I think he will
+not much longer be under restraint. Besides, I may as well inform you,
+dear lady, that not ten minutes before you arrived this morning I
+received satisfactory news of the arrest of two Englishmen at Frankfort,
+who seem to have been concerned in this business in the Rue de la Fille
+Sauvage. They certainly travelled with the murdered man; and a friend of
+his called Gestre, just back from Marseilles, has sworn that these
+persons were formerly partners of Janson, the deceased. If Janson stole
+the necklace from Monsieur du Laurier, with this pair as accomplices,
+and then tried to cheat them, a motive for the crime is evident. And we
+are getting at Janson's record, which seems to be a bad one--a notorious
+one throughout Europe, if he proves to be the man we think. I hope,
+really, that in a very few days Mr. Dundas may be able to thank you in
+person for what you've done for him, and--to tell you what has become of
+those letters."
+
+"What good will their destruction do me, though, if you are not
+merciful?"
+
+"I intend to be, for I can combine mercy with justice. Dear
+Mademoiselle, Monsieur du Laurier need never know the circumstances you
+have told to me, or that the Englishman's alibi has been proved by you.
+The arrest of these two men in Frankfort will, I feel sure, help the
+police to keep your secret as you would keep it yourself. Now, will that
+assurance make it easier for you to put your whole soul into your part
+to-night?"
+
+"If you will accept that box," I said, letting him kiss my hand, and
+feeling inclined to kiss his.
+
+Then I drove home, with my heart singing, for I felt almost sure that I
+had trumped Godensky's last trick now.
+
+When I reached home Miss Forrest was there. She had brought the diamonds
+in the brocade bag. Oddly enough, the ribbons which fastened it were
+torn out, as if there had been a struggle for the possession of the bag.
+But Miss Forrest did not explain this, or even allude to it at all.
+
+I thanked her for coming and for bringing the jewels. "I have kept my
+promise," I said. "The man you love will be free in a few days. Will you
+let me say that I think you are a very noble pair, and I hope you will
+be happy together."
+
+"I shall try to make up to him for--my hateful suspicions
+and--everything," she said, like a repentant child. "I love him so
+much!"
+
+"And he you. You almost broke his heart by throwing him over; I saw
+that. But how gloriously you will mend it again!"
+
+"Oh, I hope so!" she cried. "And you--have I really spoiled your life by
+forcing you to make that promise? I pray that I haven't."
+
+"I thought you had, but I was mistaken," I answered. "The thing you have
+made me do has proved a blessing. I may have--altered some of the facts
+a little, but none of those that concern Mr. Dundas. And a woman has to
+use such weapons as she has, against cruel enemies."
+
+"I hope you'll defeat yours," said Miss Forrest.
+
+"I begin to believe I shall," said I. And we shook hands. She is the
+only girl I ever saw who seemed to me worthy of Ivor Dundas.
+
+Early in the afternoon Raoul came, and the first thing I did was to give
+him the diamonds.
+
+"You are my good angel!" he exclaimed. "Thank Heaven, I won't have to
+take your money now."
+
+"All that's mine is yours," I said.
+
+"It is _you_ I want for mine," he answered. "When am I to have you?
+Don't keep me waiting long, my darling. I'm nothing without you."
+
+"I don't want to keep you waiting," I told him. And indeed I longed to
+be his wife--his, in spite of Godensky; his, till death us should part.
+
+He took me in his arms, and then, when I had promised to marry him as
+soon as a marriage could be arranged, our talk drifted back to the
+morning, and the note I had written, telling him that a pretty American
+girl had found the diamonds.
+
+"She's engaged to marry Ivor Dundas, an old friend of mine--the poor
+fellow so stupidly accused of murder," I explained. "But of course he is
+innocent. Of course he'll be discharged without a blot upon his name.
+They're tremendously in love with each other, almost as much as you and
+I!"
+
+"You didn't tell me about the love affair in your note," said Raoul.
+"You spoke only of the girl, and the coincidence of her driving past
+your house, after I went in."
+
+"There wasn't time for more in that famous communication!" I laughed.
+
+Raoul echoed me. "It came rather too near being famous, by the way," he
+said. "Just after I had found it in the safe--where you would put it,
+you witch!--a man came in with an order from the President to copy a
+clause in a new treaty which is kept there."
+
+"What treaty?" I asked, with a leap of the heart.
+
+"Oh, one between France, Japan and Russia. But that isn't the point."
+(Ah, _was_ it not, if he had known?) The thing is, it would have been
+rather awkward, wouldn't it? if I hadn't got your note out of the safe
+before the man came in, as he never took his eyes off me, or out of the
+open safe, for a second."
+
+"Thank God I wasn't too late!" I stammered, before I could keep back the
+rushing words. "You mean, thank God he wasn't sooner, don't you,
+darling?" amended Raoul.
+
+"Yes, of course. How stupid I am!" I murmured.
+
+All along, then, Godensky had meant to get my promise and deceive me,
+for I had not even sent my note of defiance when this trick was played.
+Had the treaty been missing, and Raoul disgraced, Godensky would no
+doubt have vowed to me--if I'd lived to hear his vows--that he had had
+no hand in the discovery. Fear of the terrible man who had so nearly
+beaten me in the game made me quiver even now. "You see," I went on, "I
+can think of nothing but you, and my love for you. You'll never be
+jealous and make me miserable again, will you, no matter what Count
+Godensky or any other wretched creature may say of me to you?"
+
+"I've listened to Godensky for the last time," said Raoul. "The dog! He
+shall never come near me again."
+
+"I hardly think he will try," I said. "I'm glad we're going to be
+married soon. Do you know, I'm half inclined to do as you've asked me
+sometimes, and promised you wouldn't ask again--leave the stage. I want
+to rest, and just be happy, like other women. I want love--and
+peace--and you."
+
+"You shall have all, and for always," answered Raoul. "If only I
+deserved you!"
+
+"If only I deserved you!" I echoed.
+
+Raoul would not let me say that. But he did not know. And I trust that
+he never may; or not until a time, if such a time could come, that he
+would forgive me all things, because we are one in a perfect love.
+
+THE END
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10410 ***