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diff --git a/15094-h/15094-h.htm b/15094-h/15094-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd6af86 --- /dev/null +++ b/15094-h/15094-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14229 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cab of the Sleeping Horse, by John Reed Scott</title> + +<style title="Standard Format" type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cab of the Sleeping Horse, by John Reed Scott</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Cab of the Sleeping Horse</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: John Reed Scott</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: William van Dresser</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 18, 2005 [eBook #15094]<br /> +[Most recently updated: October 14, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAB OF THE SLEEPING HORSE ***</div> + +<h1>The Cab Of The Sleeping Horse</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By John Reed Scott</h2> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF</p> + +<p class="center"><i>The Woman in Question</i>, +<i>The Man In Evening Clothes</i>, +etc.</p> + +<p class="center">Frontispiece By William Van Dresser</p> + +<hr /> + +<div> +<p style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image1.png" alt="She Threw Up Her Hand, And A Nasty Little Automatic Was Covering The Secretary’s Heart. Drawn by William Van Dresser. (Chapter 24.)" /></p> +<p style="text-align: center">She Threw Up Her Hand, And A Nasty Little Automatic Was +Covering The Secretary’s Heart. Drawn by William Van Dresser. (<i>Chapter 24</i>.)</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center">A.L. Burt Company</p> + +<p class="center">Publishers New York</p> + +<p class="center">Published by arrangement with G.P. Putnam’s Sons</p> + +<p class="center">1916</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">I—The Photograph</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">II—The Voice On The Wire</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">III—Visitors</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">IV—Crenshaw</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">V—Another Woman</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">VI—The Grey-Stone House</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">VII—Surprises</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">VIII—The Story</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">IX—Decoyed</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">X—Skirmishing</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">XI—Half A Lie</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">XII—Carpenter</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">XIII—The Marquis</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">XIV—The Slip Of Paper</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">XV—Identified</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">XVI—Another Letter</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">XVII—In The Taxi</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">XVIII—Doubt</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">XIX—Marston</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">XX—Playing The Game</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">XXI—The Key-Word</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">XXII—The Rataplan</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">XXIII—Caught</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">XXIV—The Candle Flame</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>The Cab of The Sleeping Horse</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I—The Photograph</h2> + +<p> +“A beautiful woman is never especially clever,” Rochester remarked. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston blew a smoke ring at the big drop-light on the table and watched it +swirl under the cardinal shade. +</p> + +<p> +“The cleverest woman I know is also the most beautiful,” he replied. “Yes, I +can name her offhand. She has all the finesse of her sex, together with the +reasoning mind; she is surpassingly good to look at, and knows how to use her +looks to obtain her end; as the occasion demands, she can be as cold as steel +or warm as a summer’s night; she—” +</p> + +<p> +“How are her morals?” Rochester interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Morals or the want of them do not, I take it, enter into the question,” +Harleston responded. “Cleverness is quite apart from morals.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have not named the wonderful one,” Clarke reminded him. +</p> + +<p> +“And I won’t now. Rochester’s impertinent question forbids introducing her to +this company. Moreover,” as he drew out his watch, “it is half-after-twelve of +a fine spring night, and, unless we wish to be turned out of the Club, we would +better be going homeward or elsewhere. Who’s for a walk up the avenue?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am—as far as Dupont Circle,” said Clarke. +</p> + +<p> +“All hands?” Harleston inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s too late for exercise,” Rochester declined; “and our way lies athwart +your path.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you make good company, anyway, with your questions and your +athwarts,” Harleston retorted amiably, as Clarke and he moved off. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is your clever woman?” asked Clarke. +</p> + +<p> +“Curious?” Harleston smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally—it’s not in you to give praise undeserved.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sure it is praise, Clarke; it depends on one’s point of view. However, +the lady in question bears several names which she uses as expediency or her +notion suits her. Her maiden name was Madeline Cuthbert. She married a Colonel +Spencer of Ours; he divorced her, after she had eloped with a rich young +lieutenant of his regiment. She didn’t marry the lieutenant; she simply plucked +him clean and he shot himself. I’ve never understood why he didn’t first shoot +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless it shows her cleverness?” Clarke remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless it does,” replied Harleston, neatly spitting a leaf on the pavement +with his stick. “Afterward she had various adventures with various wealthy men, +and always won. Her particularly spectacular adventure was posing, at the +instigation of the Duke of Lotzen, as the wife of the Archduke Armand of +Valeria; and she stirred up a mess of turmoil until the matter was cleared up.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember something of it!” Clarke exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“By that time she had so fascinated her + +employer, the Duke of Lotzen, that he actually married her—morganatically, of +course.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again showing her astonishing cleverness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so—and, cleverer still, she held him until his death five years later. +Which death, despite the authorized report, was not natural: the King of +Valeria killed him in a sword duel in Ferida Palace on the principal street of +Dornlitz. The lady then betook herself to Paris and took up her present life of +extreme respectability—and political usefulness to our friends of +Wilhelm-strasse. In fact, I understand that she has more than made good +professionally, as well as fascinated at least half a dozen Cabinet Ministers +besides. +</p> + +<p> +“Wilhelm-strasse?” Clarke queried. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded. “She is in the German Secret Service.” +</p> + +<p> +“They trust her?” Clarke marvelled. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the most remarkable thing about her,” said Harleston, “so far as I +know, she has never been false to the hand that paid her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which, in her position, is the cleverest thing of all!” Clarke remarked. +</p> + +<p> +They passed the English Legation, a bulging, three-storied, red brick, +dormer-roofed atrocity, + +standing a few feet in from the sidewalk; ugly as original sin, externally as +repellent as the sidewalk and the narrow little drive under the +<i>porte-cochère</i> are dirty. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a pity,” said Clarke, “that the British Legation cannot afford a +man-servant to clean its front.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one is presumed to arrive or leave except in carriages or motor cars,” +Harleston explained. “<i>They</i> can push through the dirt to the entrance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, would you believe it,” Clarke added, “the deep snow of last February lay +on the walks untouched until well into the following day. The blooming +Englishmen just then began to appreciate that it had snowed the previous night. +Are they so slow on the secret-service end?” +</p> + +<p> +“They have quite enough speed on that end,” Harleston responded. “They are on +the job always and ever—also the Germans.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve bumped into them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frequently.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ever encounter the clever lady, with the assortment of husbands?” +</p> + +<p> +“Once or twice. Moreover, having known her as a little girl, and her family +before her, I’ve + +been interested to watch her travelling—her remarkable career. And it has been +a career, Clarke; believe me, it’s been a career. For pure cleverness, and the +appreciation of opportunities with the ability to grasp them, the devil himself +can’t show anything more picturesque. My hat’s off to her!” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to meet her,” Clarke said. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to Paris, sometime when I’m there, and I’ll be delighted to present you +to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t she ever come to America?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not. She says the Continent, and Paris in particular, is good enough +for her.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston left Clarke at Dupont Circle and turned down Massachusetts Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +The broad thoroughfare was deserted, yet at the intersection of Eighteenth +Street he came upon a most singular sight. +</p> + +<p> +A cab was by the curb, its horse lying prostrate on the asphalt, its box vacant +of driver. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston stopped. What had he here! Then he looked about for a policeman. Of +course, none was in sight. Policemen never are in sight on Massachusetts +Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +As a general rule, Harleston was not inquisitive + +as to things that did not concern him—especially at one o’clock in the morning; +but the waiting cab, the deserted box, the recumbent horse in the shafts +excited his curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +The cab, probably, was from the stand in Dupont Circle; and the cabby likely +was asleep inside the cab, with a bit too much rum aboard. Nevertheless, the +matter was worth a step into Eighteenth Street and a few seconds’ time. It +might yield only a drunken driver’s mutterings at being disturbed; it might +yield much of profit. And the longer Harleston looked the more he was impelled +to investigate. Finally curiosity prevailed. +</p> + +<p> +The door of the cab was closed and he looked inside. +</p> + +<p> +The cab was empty. +</p> + +<p> +As he opened the door, the sleeping horse came suddenly to life; with a snort +it struggled to its feet, then looked around apologetically at Harleston, as +though begging to be excused for having been caught in a most reprehensible act +for a cab horse. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right, old boy,” Harleston smiled. “You doubtless are in need of +all the sleep you can get. Now, if you’ll be good enough to stand + +still, we’ll have a look at the interior of your appendix.” +</p> + +<p> +The light from the street lamps penetrated but faintly inside the cab, so +Harleston, being averse to lighting a match save for an instant at the end of +the search, was forced to grope in semi-darkness. +</p> + +<p> +On the cushion of the seat was a light lap spread, part of the equipment of the +cab. The pockets on the doors yielded nothing. He turned up the cushion and +felt under it: nothing. On the floor, however, was a woman’s handkerchief, +filmy and small, and without the least odour clinging to it. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange!” Harleston muttered. “They are always covered with perfume.” +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, while a very expensive handkerchief, it was without initial—which +also was most unusual. +</p> + +<p> +He put the bit of lace into his coat and went on with the search: +</p> + +<p> +Three American Beauty roses, somewhat crushed and broken, were in the far +corner. From certain abrasions in the stems, he concluded that they had been +torn, or loosed, from a woman’s corsage. +</p> + +<p> +He felt again—then he struck a match, leaning + +well inside the cab so as to hide the light as much as possible. +</p> + +<p> +The momentary flare disclosed a square envelope standing on edge and close in +against the seat. Extinguishing the match, he caught it up. +</p> + +<p> +It was of white linen of superior quality, without superscription, and sealed; +the contents were very light—a single sheet of paper, likely. +</p> + +<p> +The handkerchief, the crushed roses, the unaddressed, sealed envelope—the +horse, the empty and deserted cab, standing before a vacant lot, at one o’clock +in the morning! Surely any one of them was enough to stir the imagination; +together they were a tantalizing mystery, calling for solution and beckoning +one on. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston took another look around, saw no one, and calmly pocketed the +envelope. Then, after noting the number of the cab, No. 333, he gathered up the +lines, whipped the ends about the box, and chirped to the horse to proceed. +</p> + +<p> +The horse promptly obeyed; turned west on Massachusetts Avenue, and backed up +to his accustomed stand in Dupont Circle as neatly as though his driver were +directing him. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston watched the proceeding from the + +corner of Eighteenth Street: after which he resumed his way to his apartment in +the Collingwood. +</p> + +<p> +A sleepy elevator boy tried to put him off at the fourth floor, and he had some +trouble in convincing the lad that the sixth was his floor. In fact, +Harleston’s mind being occupied with the recent affair, he would have let +himself be put off at the fourth floor, if he had not happened to notice the +large gilt numbers on the glass panel of the door opposite the elevator. The +bright light shining through this panel caught his eye, and he wondered +indifferently that it should be burning at such an hour. +</p> + +<p> +Subsequently he understood the light in No. 401; but then it was too late. Had +he been delayed ten seconds, or had he gotten off at the fourth floor, he would +have—. However, I anticipate; or rather I speculate on what would have happened +under hypothetical conditions—which is fatuous in the extreme; hypothetical +conditions never are existent facts. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston, having gained his apartment, leisurely removed from his pockets the +handkerchief, the roses, and the envelope, and placed them on + +the library table. With the same leisureliness, he removed his light top-coat +and his hat and hung them in the closet. Returning to the library, he chose a +cigarette, tapped it on the back of his hand, struck a match, and carefully +passed the flame across the tip. After several puffs, taken with conscious +deliberation, he sat down and took up the handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +This was Harleston’s way: to delay deliberately the gratification of his +curiosity, so as to keep it always under control. An important letter—where +haste was not an essential—was unopened for a while; his morning newspaper he +would let lie untouched beside his plate for sufficiently long to check his +natural inclination to glance hastily over the headlines of the first page. In +everything he tried by self-imposed curbs to teach himself poise and patience +and a quiet mind. He had been at it for years. By now he had himself well in +hand; though, being exceedingly impetuous by nature, he occasionally broke +over. +</p> + +<p> +His course in this instance was typical—the more so, indeed, since he had +broken over and lost his poise only that afternoon. He wanted to know what was +inside that blank envelope. He + +was persuaded it contained that which would either solve the mystery of the +cab, or would in itself lead on to a greater mystery. In either event, a most +interesting document lay within his reach—and he took up the handkerchief. +Discipline! The curb must be maintained. +</p> + +<p> +And the handkerchief yielded nothing—not even when inspected under the +drop-light and with the aid of a microscope. Not a mark to indicate who carried +it nor whence it came.—Yet stay; in the closed room he detected what had been +lost in the open: a faint, a very faint, odour as of azurea sachet. It was only +a suggestion; vague and uncertain, and entirely absent at times. And Harleston +shook his head. The very fact that there was nothing about it by which it might +be identified indicated the deliberate purpose to avoid identification. He put +it aside, and, taking up the roses, laid them under the light. +</p> + +<p> +They were the usual American Beauties; only larger and more gorgeous than the +general run—which might be taken as an indication of the wealth of the giver, +or of the male desire to please the female; or of both. Of course, there was +the possibility that the roses were of the woman’s own + +buying; but women rarely waste their own money on American Beauties—and +Harleston knew it. A minute examination convinced him that they had been +crushed while being worn and then trampled on. The stems, some of the green +leaves, and the edges of one of the blooms were scarred as by a heel; the rest +of the blooms were crushed but not scarred. Which indicated violence—first +gentle, then somewhat drastic. +</p> + +<p> +He put the flowers aside and picked up the envelope, looked it over carefully, +then, with a peculiarly thin and very sharp knife, he cut the sealing of the +flap so neatly that it could be resealed and no one suspect it had been opened. +As he turned back the flap, a small unmounted photograph fell out and lay face +upward on the table. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston gave a low whistle of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +It was Madeline Spencer. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II—The Voice On The Wire</h2> + +<p> +“Good morning, madame!” said Harleston, bowing to the photograph. “This is +quite a surprise. You’re taken very recently, and you’re worth looking at for +divers aesthetic reasons—none of which, however, is the reason for your being +in the envelope.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew out the sheet of paper and opened it. On it were typewritten, without +address nor signature, these letters: +</p> + +<p> +DPNFNZQFEFBPOYVOAEELEHHEJYD +</p> + +<p> +BIWFTCCFVDXNQYCECLUGSUGDZYJ +</p> + +<p> +ENRYUIGYBSNRTDUHJWHGYZIPEPA +</p> + +<p> +WPPOIMCHEIPRFBJXFVWWFTZNJPY +</p> + +<p> +UFJDILDCEMBRVZDAYVAWALUMOFN +</p> + +<p> +FCVDPGLPWFUUWVIEPTKVIPUMSFZ +</p> + +<p> +NPSJJRFYASGZSDACSIGYUOFCEXA +</p> + +<p> +AOIDJJFCJPSONPKUUYVCVCTIHDP +</p> + +<p> +XMNOYKENHUSKHYMSFRRPCYWSLLW +</p> + +<p> +SMVPPUNEIFIDJLZRWEHPQGODFUZ +</p> + +<p> +TCEMQIQWNFYJTAALUMHJXILEEHY +</p> + +<p> +ISOVOAZUCUDINBRLUZICUOTTUSV +</p> + +<p> +LPNFFVQFANPVCYJHILTPFISGHCW +</p> + +<p> +HYICPPNFDOUOCLDUWEIVIPJNQBV +</p> + +<p> +ZLMIJRVKDSFRLWEGBKQYWSFFBEI +</p> + +<p> +YORHMYSHTECPUTMPJXFNRNEEUME +</p> + +<p> +ILJBWV. +</p> + +<p> +“Cipher!” commented Harleston, looking at it with half-closed eyes.... “The +Blocked-Out Square, I imagine. No earthly use in trying to dig it out without +the key-word; and the key-word—” he gave a shrug. “I’ll let Carpenter try his +hand on it; it’s too much for me.” +</p> + +<p> +He knew from experience the futility of attempting the solution of a cipher by +any but an expert; and even with an expert it was rarely successful. +</p> + +<p> +As a general rule, the key to a secret cipher is discovered only by accident or +by betrayal. There are hundreds of secret ciphers—any person can devise one—in +everyday use by the various departments of the various governments; but, in the +main, they are amplifications or variations of some half-dozen that have become +generally accepted as susceptible of the quickest and simplest translation with +the key, and the most puzzling without the key. Of these, the Blocked-Out +Square, first used by Blaise de Vigenèrie in 1589, is probably still the most +generally employed, and, because of its very simplicity, the most impossible of +solution. Change the key-word and one has a new cipher. Any word will do; nor +does it matter how often a letter is repeated; neither is + +one held to one word: it may be two or three or any reasonable number. Simply +apply it to the alphabetic Blocked-Out Square and the message is evident; no +books whatever are required. A slip of paper and a pencil are all that are +necessary; any one can write the square; there is not any secret as to it. The +secret is the key-word. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston took a sheet of paper and wrote the square: +</p> + +<p> +ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ +</p> + +<p> +BCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZA +</p> + +<p> +CDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZAB +</p> + +<p> +DEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABC +</p> + +<p> +EFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCD +</p> + +<p> +FGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDE +</p> + +<p> +GHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEF +</p> + +<p> +HIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFG +</p> + +<p> +IJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGH +</p> + +<p> +JKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHI +</p> + +<p> +KLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJ +</p> + +<p> +LMNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJK +</p> + +<p> +MNOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKL +</p> + +<p> +NOPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLM +</p> + +<p> +OPQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMN +</p> + +<p> +PQRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNO +</p> + +<p> +QRSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOP +</p> + +<p> +RSTUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQ +</p> + +<p> +STUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQR +</p> + +<p> +TUVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRS +</p> + +<p> +UVWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRST +</p> + +<p> +VWXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTU +</p> + +<p> +WXYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUV +</p> + +<p> +XYZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVW +</p> + +<p> +YZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWX +</p> + +<p> +ZABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXY +</p> + +<p> +Assume that the message to be transmitted is: “To-morrow sure,” and that the +key-word is: “In the inn.” Write the key-word and under it the message: +</p> + +<p> +INTHEINNINTH +</p> + +<p> +TOMORROWSURE +</p> + +<p> +Then trace <i>downward</i> the I column of the top line of the square, and +<i>horizontally</i> the T column at the side of the square until the two lines +coincide in the letter B: the first letter of the cipher message. The N and the +O yield B; the T and the M yield F; the H and the O yield V, and so on, until +the completed message is: +</p> + +<p> +BBFVVZBJAHKL +</p> + +<p> +The translator of the cipher message simply reverses this proceeding. He knows +the key-word, and he writes it above the cipher message: +</p> + +<p> +INTHEINNINTH +</p> + +<p> +BBFVVZBJAHKL +</p> + +<p> +He traces the I column until B is reached; the <i>first</i> letter in that +line, T, is the first letter of the message—and so on. +</p> + +<p> +Simple! Yes, childishly simple with the key-word; and the key-word can be +carried in one’s + +mind. Without the key-word, translation is impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston put down the paper and leaned back. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether it was a most interesting collection, these four articles on the +table. It was a pity that the cab and the sleeping horse were not among the +exhibits. Number one: a lady’s lace handkerchief. Number two: three American +Beauty roses, somewhat the worse for wear and violent usage. Number three: a +cipher message. Number four: photograph of Madame—or Mademoiselle—de Cuthbert, +de Spencer, de Lotzen. There was a pretty plot behind these exhibits; a pretty +plot, or he missed his guess. It might concern the United States—and it might +not. It would be his duty to find out. Meanwhile, the picture stirred memories +that he had thought long dead. Also it suggested possibilities. It was some +years since they had matched their wits against each other, and the last time +she rather won out—because all the cards were hers, as well as the <i>mise en +scène</i>. And she had left— +</p> + +<p> +His thought trailed off into silence; and the silence lasted so long, and he +sat so still, that the ash fell unnoticed from his cigarette; and presently + +the cigarette burned itself into the tip, and to his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +He tossed it into the tray and laughed quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Rare days—those days of the vanished protocol and its finding! He could almost +wish that they might be again; with a different <i>mise en scène</i>, and a +different ending—and a different client for his. He was becoming almost +sentimental—and he was too old a bird for sentiment, and quite too old at this +game; which had not any sentiment about it that was not pretence and sham. Yet +it was a good game—a mighty entertaining game; where one measured wits with the +best, and took long chances, and played for high stakes; men’s lives and a +nation’s honour. +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the photograph and regarded it thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“And what are to be the stakes now, I wonder,” he mused. “It’s another deal of +the same old cards, but who are players? If America is one, then, my lady, we +shall see who will win this time—if you’re in it; and I take it you are, else +why this picture. Yet to induce you to break your rule and cross the Atlantic, +the moving consideration must be of the utmost weight, or else it’s purely + +a personal matter. H-u-m! Under all the circumstances, I should say the latter +is the more likely. In which event, I may not be concerned further than to +return these—” with a wave of his hand toward the exhibits. +</p> + +<p> +For a while longer he sat in silence, eyes half closed, lips a bit compressed; +a certain sternness, that was always in his countenance, showing plainest when +in reflective thought. At last, he smiled. Then he lit another cigarette, took +up the letter and the photograph, and put them in the small safe standing +behind an ornate screen in the corner—not, however, without another look at the +calmly beautiful face. +</p> + +<p> +The roses he left lie on the table; the steel safe would not preserve them in +<i>statu quo</i>; moreover, he knew, or thought he knew, all that they could +convey. He swung the door shut; then swung it open, and looked again at the +picture—and for sometime—before he put it up and gave the knob a twirl. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure bewitched!” he remarked, going on to his bedroom. “It’s not difficult +for me to understand the Duke of Lotzen. He was simply a man—and men, at the +best, are queer beggars. + +No woman ever understands us—and no more do we understand women. So we’re both +quits on that score, if we’re not quite on some others.” Then he raised his +hands helplessly, “Oh, Lord, the petticoats, the petticoats!” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the telephone rang—noisily as befits two o’clock in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Who the devil wants me at such an hour?” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +The clang was repeated almost instantly and continued until he unhooked the +receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” he said sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that Mr. Harleston?” asked a woman’s voice. A particularly soft and sweet +and smiling voice, it was. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Mr. Harleston,” he replied courteously—the voice had done it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how do you do, Mr. Harleston!” the voice rippled. “I suppose you are +rather astonished at being called up at such an unseemly hour—” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all—I’m quite used to it, mademoiselle,” Harleston assured her. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you’re sarcastic,” the voice replied again; “and, somehow, I don’t like +sarcasm when I’m the cause of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re the cause of it but not the object of it,” he assured her. “I’m quite +sure I’ve never met you, and just as sure that I hope to meet you today.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your hope, Mr. Harleston, is also mine. But why, may I ask, do you call me +mademoiselle? I’m not French.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the pleasantest way to address you until I know your name.” +</p> + +<p> +“You might call me madame!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perish the thought! I refuse to imagine you married.” +</p> + +<p> +“I might be a widow.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or even a divorcée.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you might be a grandmother,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And doing the Maxixe at the Willard, this minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“But you aren’t; and no more are you a widow or a divorcée.” +</p> + +<p> +“All of which is charming of you, Mr. Harleston but it’s not exactly the +business I have in hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Business at two o’clock in the morning!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +He had tried to place the voice, and had failed; he was becoming convinced that +he had not heard it before. +</p> + +<p> +“What else would justify me in disturbing you?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yourself, mademoiselle. Let us continue the pleasant conversation and forget +business until business hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“When are your business hours, Mr. Harleston—and where’s your office?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no office—and my business hours depend on the business in hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the business in hand depends primarily on whether you are interested in +the subject matter of the business, <i>n’est-ce pas</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am profoundly interested, mademoiselle, in any matter that concerns you—as +well as in yourself. Who would not be interested in one so impulsive—and +anything so important—as to call him on the telephone at two in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who on his part is so gracious—and wasn’t asleep,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston slowly winked at the transmitter and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +He thought so. What puzzled him, however, was her idea in prolonging the talk. +Maybe there was not any idea in it, just a feminine notion; yet something in +the very alluring softness of her voice told him otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +“You guessed it,” he replied. “I was not asleep. Also I might guess something +in regard to your business.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, mademoiselle! It’s impertinent to guess about what does not concern +me—yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Delete the word ‘yet,’ Mr. Harleston, and substitute the idea that it +was—pardon me—rather gratuitous in you to meddle in the first place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand,” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes you do!” she trilled. “However, I’ll be specific—it’s time to be +specific, you would say; though I might respond that you’ve known all along +what my business is with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“The name of an individual is a prerequisite to the transaction of business,” +he interposed. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not know me, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hence, your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“When we meet, you’ll know me by my voice.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, mademoiselle, for it’s one in a million; but as yet we are not met, and +you desire to talk business.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m going to talk business!” she laughed. “And I shall not give you my +name—or, if you must, know me as Madame X. Are you satisfied?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are willing to be known as Madame X,” he laughed back, “I haven’t a +word to say. Pray begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Being assured now that you have never before heard my voice, and that you have +it fixed sufficiently in your memory—all of which, Mr. Harleston, wasn’t in the +least necessary, for we shall meet today—we will proceed. Ready?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ready, mademoiselle—I mean Madame X.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you intend to do, sir, in regard to the incident of the deserted cab +with the sleeping horse?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not determined. It depends on developments.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Mr. Harleston, you were not in the least surprised at my question.” +</p> + +<p> +“For a moment, a mere man may have had a clever woman’s intuition,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“And, I suppose, the woman will be expected to aid developments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that her present intention?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all! Her present intention is to avoid developments so far as you are +concerned, and to have matters take their intended course. It’s to that end +that I have ventured to call you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you wish me to do, Madame X?” +</p> + +<p> +“As if you did not know!” she mocked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very dense at times,” he assured her. +</p> + +<p> +“Dense!” she laughed. “Shades of Talleyrand, hear the man! However, as you +desire to be told, I’ll tell you. I wish you to forget that you saw anything +unusual on your way home this morning, and to return the articles you took from +the cab.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the cab?” Harleston inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“No, to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What were the articles?” +</p> + +<p> +“A sealed envelope containing a message in cipher.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you forgotten something?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you may keep the roses, Mr. Harleston, for your reward!” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +She had not missed the handkerchief, or else she thought it of no consequence. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuming, for the moment, that I have the articles in question, how are they +to be gotten to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the messenger, I shall send.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you send yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that to you, sir?” she trilled. +</p> + +<p> +“Simply that I shall not even consider surrendering the articles, assuming that +I have them, to any one but you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will surrender them to <i>me</i>?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t surrender them to any one else.” +</p> + +<p> +“In other words, I have a chance to get them. No one else has a chance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I accept. Make the appointment, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will five o’clock this afternoon be convenient?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly—if it can’t be sooner,” she replied, after a momentary pause. “And +the place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where you will,” he answered. He wanted + +her to fix it so that he could judge of her good faith. +</p> + +<p> +And she understood. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not arranging to have you throttled!” she laughed. “Let us say the +corridor of the Chateau—that is safe enough, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know, Madame X, that Peacock Alley is one of the most dangerous +places in town?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not for you, Mr. Harleston,” she replied. “However—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ll chance it; though it’s a perilous setting with one of your adorable +voice—and the other things that simply must go with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And lest the other things should not go with it,” she added, “I’ll wear three +American Beauties on a black gown so that you may know me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! Peacock Alley at five,” he replied and snapped up the receiver. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III—Visitors</h2> + +<p> +“The affair promises to be quite interesting,” he confided to the paper-knife, +with which he was spearing tiny holes in the blotter of the pad. “Peacock Alley +at five—but there are a few matters that come first.” +</p> + +<p> +He went straight to the safe, unlocked it, took out the photograph, the cipher +message, and the handkerchief, carried these to the table and placed them in a +large envelope, which he sealed and addressed to himself. Then with it, and the +three American Beauties, he passed quickly into the corridor and to an +adjoining apartment. There he rang the bell vigorously and long. +</p> + +<p> +He was still ringing when a dishevelled figure, in blue pajamas and a scowl, +opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil do you—” the disturbed one growled. +</p> + +<p> +“S-h-h!” said Harleston, his finger on his lips. “Keep these for me until +tomorrow, Stuart.” +</p> + +<p> +And crowding the roses and the envelope in the astonished man’s hands, he +hurried away. +</p> + +<p> +The pajamaed one glared at the flowers and the envelope; then he turned and +flung them into a corner of the living-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Hell!” he said in disgust. “Harleston’s either crazy or in love: it’s the same +thing anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +He slammed the door and went back to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston, chuckling, returned to his quarters; retrieved from the floor a leaf +and a petal and tossed them out of the window. Then, being assured by a careful +inspection of the room that there were no further traces of the roses +remaining, he went to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes after his head touched the pillow, he was asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he awoke—listening! +</p> + +<p> +Some one was on the fire-escape. The passage leading to it was just at the end +of his suite; more than that, one could climb over the railing, and, by a +little care, reach the sill of his bedroom window. This sill was wide and +offered an easy footing. If the window were up, one could easily + +step inside; or, even if it were not, the catch could be slipped in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston’s window, however, was up—invitingly up; also the window on the +passage; it was a warm night and any air was grateful. +</p> + +<p> +He lay quite still and waited developments. They came from another quarter: the +corridor on which his apartment opened. Someone was there. +</p> + +<p> +Then the knob of his door turned; he could not distinguish it in the uncertain +light, yet he knew it was turning by a peculiarly faint screech—almost so faint +as to be indistinguishable. One would not notice it except at the dead of +night. +</p> + +<p> +The door hung a moment; then cautiously it swung back a little way, and two men +entered. The moon, though now low, was sufficient to light the place faintly +and to enable them to see and be seen. +</p> + +<p> +For a brief interval they stood motionless. They came to life when Harleston, +reaching up, pushed the electric button. +</p> + +<p> +“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he asked, blinking into their levelled +revolvers. +</p> + +<p> +They were medium-sized men and wore evening clothes; one was about forty-five +and rather inclined + +to stoutness, the other was under forty and rather slender. They were not +masked, and their faces, which were strange to Harleston, were the faces of men +of breeding, accustomed to affairs. +</p> + +<p> +“You startled us, Mr. Harleston,” the elder replied; “and you blinded us +momentarily by the rush of light.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was thoughtless of me,” Harleston returned. He waved his hand toward the +chairs. “Won’t you be seated, messieurs—and pardon my not arising; I’m hardly +in receiving costume. May I ask whom I am entertaining.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir,” the elder smiled. “This is Mr. Sparrow; I am Mr. Marston. We +would not have you put yourself to the inconvenience, not to mention the hazard +from drafts. You’re much more comfortable in bed—and we can transact our +business with you quite as well so; moreover if you will give us your word to +lie quiet and not call or shoot, we shall not offer you the slightest +violence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do anything,” Harleston smiled, “to be relieved of looking down those +unattractive muzzles. Ah! thank you!—The chairs, gentlemen!” with a fine +gesture of welcome. +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t time to sit down, thank you,” said Sparrow. “Time presses and we +must away as quickly as possible. We shall, we sincerely hope, inconvenience +you but a moment, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray take all the time you need,” Harleston responded. “I’ve nothing to do +until nine o’clock—except to sleep; and sleep is a mere incidental to me. I +would much rather chat with visitors, especially those who pay me such a +delightfully early morning call.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what we came for?” Marston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the slightest idea. In fact, I don’t seem to recall ever having met +either of you. However—you’ll find cigars and cigarettes on the table in the +other room. I’ll be greatly obliged, if one of you will pass me a cigarette and +a match.” +</p> + +<p> +Both men laughed; Sparrow produced his case and offered it to Harleston, +together with a match. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, very much,” said Harleston, as he struck the match and carefully +passed the flame across the tip. “Now, sirs, I’m at your service. To what, or +to whom, do I owe the honour of this visit?” +</p> + +<p> +“We have ventured to intrude on you, Mr. Harleston,” said Marston, “in regard +to a little matter that happened on Eighteenth Street near Massachusetts Avenue +shortly before one o’clock this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston looked his surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” he inflected. “How very interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m delighted that you find it so,” was the answer. “It encourages me to go +deeper into that matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“By all means!” said Harleston, pushing the pillow aside and sitting up. “Pray, +proceed. I’m all attention.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’ll go straight to the point. You found certain articles in the cab, +Mr. Harleston—we have come for those articles.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite at a loss to understand,” Harleston replied. “Cab—articles! Have +they to do with your little matter of Eighteenth and Massachusetts Avenue +several hours ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are the crux of the matter,” Marston said shortly. “And you will confer a +great favour upon persons high in authority of a friendly power if you will +return the articles in question.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear sir,” Harleston exclaimed, “I haven’t + +the articles, whatever they may be; and pardon me, even if I had, I should not +deliver them to you; I’ve never, to the best of my recollection, seen either of +you gentlemen before this pleasant occasion.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Mr. Harleston,” remarked Sparrow, “all your actions at the cab of the +sleeping horse were observed and noted, so why protest?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not protesting; I’m simply stating two pertinent facts!” Harleston +laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“We will grant the fact that you’ve never seen us,” said Marston, “but that you +have not got the articles in question, we,” with apologizing gesture, “beg +leave to doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re at full liberty to search my apartment,” Harleston answered. “I’m not +sensitive early in the morning, whatever I may be at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“The letter is easy to conceal,” was the reply, “and the safe yonder is an +<i>impasse</i> without your assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +“The safe is not locked,” Harleston remarked. “I think I neglected to turn the +knob. If you will—” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t disturb yourself, I pray,” was the quick + +reply, the revolver glinting in his hand; “we will gladly relieve you of the +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was only about to say that if you try the door it will open for you,” +Harleston chuckled. “Go through it, sir,” he remarked to the younger, “and +don’t, I beg of you, disturb the papers more than necessary. The key to the +locked drawer is in the lower compartment on the right. Proceed, my elderly +friend, to search the apartment; I’ll not balk you. The thing’s rather +amusing—and entirely absurd. If it were not—if it didn’t strike my funny-bone—I +should probably put up some sort of a fight; as it is, you see I’m entirely +acquiescent. Your tiny automatics didn’t in the least intimidate me. I could +have landed you both as you entered. I’ve got a gun of a much larger calibre +right to my hand. See!” and he lifted the pillow and exposed a 38. “Want to +borrow it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you land us?” Marston asked, as he took the 38. +</p> + +<p> +“It wouldn’t have been kind!” Harleston smiled. “When visitors come at such an +hour, they deserve to be received with every attention and +courtesy—particularly when they + +come on a mistaken impression and a fruitless quest.” +</p> + +<p> +The man looked at Harleston doubtfully. Just how much of this was bluff, he +could not decide. Harleston’s whole conduct was rather unusual—the open door, +the open safe, the unemployed revolver, were not in accordance with the game +they were playing. He should have made a fight, some sort of a fight, and not— +</p> + +<p> +“The letter’s not in the safe,” Sparrow reported. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t think it was,” said the other, “but we had to make search.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very welcome to look elsewhere and anywhere,” Harleston interjected. +“I’ll trust you not to pry into matters other than the letter. By the way, +whose was the letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“His Majesty of Abyssinia!” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Taken by wireless, I presume.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, why so much bother, my friend?” Harleston asked. “If you do not find it, +you can get others by the same quick route.” +</p> + +<p> +“The King of Abyssinia never duplicates a letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“When,” supplemented Harleston, “it has been carelessly lost in a cab.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so. Therefore—” +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat that I have not got the articles,” said Harleston, a bit wearily, +“nor are they in my apartment. You have been misinformed. I find I am getting +drowsy—this thing is not as absorbing as I had thought it would be. With your +permission I’ll drop off to sleep; you’re welcome to continue the search. Make +yourselves perfectly at home, sirs.” He lay back and drew up the sheet. “Just +pull the door shut when you depart, please,” he said, and closed his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a queer chap,” remarked Sparrow, pausing in his search and surveying +Harleston with a puzzled smile. “One would suppose you’re used to receiving +interruptions at such hours for such purposes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I try never to be surprised at anything however <i>outré</i>,” Harleston +explained. “Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men looked at the recumbent figure and then at each other and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“He acts the part,” said the elder. “Have you found anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing! It’s not in the safe nor the writing-table—nor + +anywhere else that is reasonable. I’ve been through everything and there’s +nothing doing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going?” Harleston remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re asleep, Mr. Harleston!” Marston reminded. “The letter is here: we’ve +simply got to find it.” +</p> + +<p> +“A letter is easy to conceal,” the younger replied. “There’s nothing but to +overturn everything in the place—and so on; and that will require a day.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that you replace things, I’ve not the slightest objection,” Harleston +interjected. “Bang away, sirs, bang away! Anything to relieve me from +suspicion.” +</p> + +<p> +“It prevents him from sleeping!” Sparrow laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Also yourselves,” Harleston supplemented. “However, you for it, remembering +that cock-crow comes earlier now than in December, and the people too are up +betimes. You risk interruption, I fear, from my solicitous friends.” +</p> + +<p> +And even as he spoke the corridor door opened and a man stepped in. +</p> + +<p> +From where he lay, Harleston could see him; the others could not. +</p> + +<p> +“’Pon my soul, I’m popular this morning!” Harleston remarked, sitting up. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly the new-comer covered him with his revolver. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say?” Sparrow inquired from the sitting-room, just as the +stranger appeared around the corner. +</p> + +<p> +Like a flash, the latter’s revolver shifted to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Easy there!” said he. +</p> + +<p> +Sparrow sprang up—then he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Easy yourself!” said he. “Marston, let this gentleman see your hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Marston came slowly forward until he stood a little behind but sufficiently in +view to enable the stranger to see that he himself was covered by an automatic. +</p> + +<p> +“For heaven’s sake, Crenshaw,” said Sparrow, “don’t let us get to shooting +here! If you wing me, Marston will wing you, and we’ll only stir up a mess for +ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then hand over the letter,” said Crenshaw +</p> + +<p> +“Do you fancy we would be hunting it if we had it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t fancy—produce the goods!” +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t the goods,” Marston shrugged. “We can’t find it.” +</p> + +<p> +Sparrow shook his head curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the truth,” Harleston interjected. “They haven’t found the goods for the +very good reason that the goods are not here. Plunge in and aid in the search; +I wish you would; it will relieve me of your triple intrusion in one third less +time. I’m becoming very tired of it all; it has lost its novelty. I prefer to +sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want the letter!” Crenshaw exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“I assumed as much from the vigour of your quest,” Harleston shrugged. “The +difficulty is that I haven’t the letter. Neither is it in my apartment. But +you’ll facilitate the search if you’ll depress your respective cannon from the +angle of each other’s anatomy and get to work. As I remarked before, I’m +anxious to compose myself for sleep. You can hold your little dispute later on +the sidewalk, or in jail, or wherever is most convenient.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Harleston,” said Marston, “do you give us your word that the letter is not +in your apartment?” +</p> + +<p> +“You already have it,” Harleston replied wearily. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, we’ll take your word and withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“He has it somewhere!” Crenshaw declared, fingering his revolver. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow,” Marston returned, “we are willing to accept Mr. Harleston’s +averment.” +</p> + +<p> +“He knows where it is—he took it—let him tell where it is hidden.” +</p> + +<p> +“What good will that subserve? We can’t get it tonight, and tomorrow will be +too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“And all because of you two meddlers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three meddlers, Crenshaw!” Marston laughed. “You must not forget your sweet +self. We’ve bungled the affair, I admit. We can’t improve it now by murdering +each other—” +</p> + +<p> +“We can make it very uncomfortable for the fourth meddler,” Crenshaw +threatened, eyeing the figure on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you made me uncomfortable enough by this untimely intrusion?” +Harleston muttered sleepily. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your idea in not offering any opposition?” Crenshaw demanded. “Is it a +plant?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was courtesy at first, and the novelty of the experience; but it’s ceased +to be novel, and courtesy + +is a bit supererogatory. By the way, which of you came up the fire-escape?” +</p> + +<p> +The three shook their heads. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not a burglar,” Crenshaw snapped. +</p> + +<p> +“The burden is on you to prove it, my friend!” Harleston smiled. “However, it’s +no matter. Just drop cards before you leave so that I can return your call. +Once more, good-night!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m off,” said Marston. “Come along, Crenshaw, you can’t do anything more +here, and we’ll all forget and forgive and start fresh in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Start?” cried Crenshaw? “what for—home? I tell you the letter is here—he took +it, didn’t he? He was at the cab.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you also give your word that you didn’t take a letter from the cab?” +Crenshaw demanded, turning upon Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give you nothing since you’ve asked me in that manner,” Harleston replied +sharply; “unless you want this.” His hand came from under the sheet, and +Crenshaw was looking into a levelled 38. Harleston had a pair of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Beat it, my man!” Harleston snapped. “None of you are of much success as +burglars; you’re + +not familiar with the trade. You’re novices, rank novices. Also myself. I’ll +give you until I count five, Crenshaw, to make your adieux. One ... two ... No +need for you two to hurry away—the time limit applies only to Mr. Crenshaw.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite time we were going, Mr. Harleston,” Marston answered. “Good-night, +sir—and pleasant dreams. Come on, Crenshaw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three ... four ...” +</p> + +<p> +Crenshaw made a gesture of final threat. +</p> + +<p> +“Meddler!” he exclaimed. Then he followed the other two. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV—Crenshaw</h2> + +<p> +Harleston lay for a few minutes, brows drawn in thought; then he arose, crossed +to the telephone, and took down the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Miss Williams,” he said. “Has it been a long night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty long, Mr. Harleston,” the girl answered. “There hasn’t been a thing +doing for two hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t three gentlemen just left the building?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one has passed in or out since you came in, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must be mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly are. It’s so lonely down here, Mr. Harleston, you can pick up +chunks of it and carry off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Been asleep?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think!” she laughed. “I’m not minded to lose my job. Suppose some +peevish + +woman wanted a doctor and she couldn’t raise me; do you think I’d last longer +than the morning and the manager’s arrival? Nay! Nay!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an unsympathetic world, isn’t it, Miss Williams?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only when you’re down—otherwise it’s not half bad. Say, maybe here’s one of +your men now; he’s walking down. Shall I stop him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, let him go. When he’s gone, tell me if he’s slender, or stout, or has +a moustache and imperial.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +Through the telephone Harleston could hear someone descend the stairs, cross +the lobby, and the revolving doors swing around. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment, the operator’s voice came with a bit of laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you there, Mr. Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, your man was a woman—and she was accidentally deliberately careful that +I shouldn’t see her face.” +</p> + +<p> +“H-u-m!” said Harleston. “Young or old?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s got ripples enough on her gown to be sixty, and figure enough to be +twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Slender?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; a perfect peach!” +</p> + +<p> +“How’s her walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“As if the ground was all hers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see!” Harleston replied. “What would you, as a woman, make her age—being +indifferent and strictly truthful?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not over twenty-eight—probably less!” she laughed. “And I’ve a notion she’s +some to look at, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean she’s a beauty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call me if she comes back; also if any of the men go out. They are strangers +to the Collingwood so you will know them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +He hung up the receiver and went back to bed. +</p> + +<p> +If no one had come in and no one had left the Collingwood since his return, the +men must have been in the building—unless they had come by another way than the +main entrance; which was the only entrance open after midnight. If the former +was the case, then someone on the outside must have communicated to them as to +him. +</p> + +<p> +With a muttered curse on his stupidity, he returned to the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Williams,” said he, “there has been a queer occurrence in the building +since two A.M., and I should like to know confidentially whether any one has +communicated with an apartment since one thirty.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl knew that Harleston was on intimate terms with the State Department, +and with the police, and she answered at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Save only yours, not a single in or out call has been registered since twelve +fifty-two when apartment No. 401 was connected for a short while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who has No. 401?” +</p> + +<p> +“A Mr. and Mrs. Chartrand. It’s one of the transient apartments; and they have +occupied it only a few days.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t by any chance overhear—” +</p> + +<p> +“The conversation?” she laughed. “Sure, I heard it; anything to put in the time +during the night. It was very brief, however; something about him being here, +and to meet him at ten in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who were talking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Chartrand and a man—at least I took it to be Mrs. Chartrand; it was a +woman’s voice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they mention where they were to meet, or the name of the man?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. The very vagueness of the talk made its impression on me at that time of +night. In the daytime, I would not have even listened.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said Harleston. “Call me up, will you, if there are any +developments as to the men I’ve described—or the conversation. Meanwhile, Miss +Williams, not a word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word, Mr. Harleston—and thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” +</p> + +<p> +“For treating me as a human being. Most persons treat me like an automaton or a +bit of dirt. You’re different; most of the men are not so bad; it’s the women, +Mr. Harleston, the women! Good-night, sir. I’ll call you if anything turns up.” +</p> + +<p> +“All of which shows,” reflected Harleston, as he returned to bed, “that the +telephone people are right in asking you to smile when you say ‘hello.’” +</p> + +<p> +It was a very interesting condition of affairs that confronted him. +</p> + +<p> +The episode of the cab of the sleeping horse was leading on to—what? +</p> + +<p> +Three men in the Collingwood knew of the occurrence, yet no one had come in or +gone out, and no one had telephoned. Moreover, they also knew of Harleston’s +part in the matter. The girl had not lied, he was sure; therefore they must +have gained entrance from the outside; and, possibly, were now hiding in the +Chartrand apartment—if the telephone message to No. 401 had to do with the +occupant of the deserted cab and the lost letter. Yet how to connect things? +And why bother to connect them? +</p> + +<p> +He did not care for the vanished lady of the cab—he had the letter and the +photograph; and because of them he was to have a talk with an interesting young +woman at five o’clock that afternoon. The cipher letter, which was the much +desired quantity, was safely across the hall, waiting to be turned over to +Carpenter, the expert of the State Department, for translation. Meanwhile, what +concerned Harleston was the photograph of Madeline Spencer and her connection +with the case—and to know if the United States was concerned in the affair. +</p> + +<p> +At this point he turned over and calmly went to sleep. Tomorrow was another +day. +</p> + +<p> +He was aroused by a vigorous pounding on the corridor door. It was seven-thirty +o’clock. He yawned and responded to the summons—which grew more insistent with +every pound. +</p> + +<p> +It was Stuart—the envelope and the flowers in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Scarcely heard your gentle tap,” Harleston remarked. “Why don’t you knock like +a man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s your damn bouquet, also your envelope,” said Stuart, “You probably +don’t recall that you left them with me about two this morning. I <i>do</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m mighty much obliged, old man,” Harleston responded. “You did me a great +service by taking them—I’ll tell you about it later.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hump!” grunted Stuart. “I hope you’ll come around to tell me at a more +seasonable hour. So long!” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston closed the door, and was half-way across the living-room when there +came another knock. +</p> + +<p> +Tossing the envelope and the faded roses on a + +nearby table, he stepped back and swung open the door. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly, a revolver was shoved into his face, and Crenshaw sprang into the +hall and closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought as much!” he exclaimed. “I’ll take that envelope, my friend, and be +quick about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What envelope?” Harleston inquired pleasantly, never seeming to notice the +menacing automatic. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, no trifling!” Crenshaw snapped. “The envelope that the man from the +apartment across the corridor just handed you.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston laughed. “You are obsessed with the notion that I have something of +yours, Mr. Crenshaw.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>The letter!</i>” exclaimed Crenshaw. +</p> + +<p> +“That envelope is addressed to me, sir; it’s not the one you seem to want.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose the flowers are also addressed to you,” Crenshaw derided, advancing. +“Get back, sir,—I’ll get the envelope myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear man,” Harleston expostulated, retreating slowly toward the door of the +living-room, + +“I’ll let you see the envelope; I’ve not the slightest objection. Put up your +gun, man; I’m not dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not so long as I’ve got the drop on you!” Crenshaw laughed sneeringly. +“Get back, man, get back; to the far side of the table—the far side, do you +hear—while I examine the envelope yonder beside the roses. The roses are very +familiar, Mr. Harleston. I’ve seen them before.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston, retreating hastily, backed into a chair and fell over it. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, stay there, then!” said Crenshaw, and reached for the letter. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so, Harleston’s slippered foot shot out and drove hard into the +other’s stomach. With a grunt Crenshaw doubled up from pain. The next instant, +Harleston caught his wrist and the struggle was on. +</p> + +<p> +It was not for long, however. Crenshaw was outweighed and outstrengthed; and +Harleston quickly bore him to the floor, where a sharp blow on the fingers sent +the automatic flying. +</p> + +<p> +“If it were not for spoiling the devil’s handiwork, my fine friend, I’d smash +your face,” Harleston remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Smash it!” the other panted. “I’ll promise—to smash yours—at the first +opportunity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which latter smashing won’t be until some years later,” Harleston retorted, as +he turned Crenshaw over. Bearing on him with all his weight, he loosed his own +pajama-cord and tied the man’s hands behind him. Next he kicked off his pajama +trousers, and with them bound Crenshaw’s ankles. Then he dragged him to a chair +and plunked him into it, securing him there by a strap. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s scarcely necessary to gag you,” he remarked pleasantly. “In your case, an +outcry would be embarrassing only to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you intend to do with me?” Crenshaw demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Ultimately, you mean. I have not decided. It may depend on what I find.” +</p> + +<p> +“Find?” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded. “In your pockets.” +</p> + +<p> +“You dog!” Crenshaw burst out, straining at his bonds. “You miserable whelp! +What do you think to find?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not thinking,” Harleston smiled; “it isn’t necessary to speculate when one +has all the stock, you know.” Then his face hardened. +</p> + +<p> +“One who comes into another’s residence in the dead of night, revolver in hand +and violence in his intention, can expect no mercy and should receive none. +You’re an ordinary burglar, Crenshaw and as such the law will view you if I +turn you over to the police. You think I found a letter in an abandoned cab at +18th and Massachusetts Avenue early this morning, and instead of coming like a +respectable man and asking if I have it and proving your property—do you hear, +proving <i>your</i> property—you play the burglar and highwayman. Evidently the +letter isn’t yours, and you haven’t any right or claim to it. I have been +injected into this matter; and having been injected I intend to ascertain what +can be found from your papers. Who you are; what your object; who are concerned +beside yourself; and anything else I can discover. You see, you have the +advantage of me; you know who I am, and, I presume, my business; I know nothing +of you, nor of your business, nor what this all means; though I might guess +some things. It’s to obviate guessing, as far as possible, that I am about to +examine such evidence as you may have with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Crenshaw was so choked with his anger that for a moment he merely +sputtered—then he relapsed into furious silence, his dark eyes glowing with +such hate that Harleston paused and asked a bit curiously: +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you take it so hard? It’s all in the game—and you’ve lost. You’re a +poor sort of sport, Crenshaw. You’d be better at ping-pong or croquet. This +matter of—letters, and cabs, is far beyond your calibre; it’s not in your +class.” +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t reached the end of the matter, my adroit friend,” gritted Crenshaw. +“My turn will come, never fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“A far day, monsieur, a far day!” said Harleston lightly. “Meanwhile, with your +permission, we will have a look at the contents of your pockets. First, your +pocketbook.” +</p> + +<p> +He unbuttoned the other’s coat, put in his hand, and drew out the book. +</p> + +<p> +“Attend, please,” said he, “so you can see that I replace every article.” +</p> + +<p> +Crenshaw’s only answer was a contemptuous shrug. +</p> + +<p> +A goodly wad of yellow backs of large denominations, and some visiting cards, +no two of which + +bore the same name, were the contents of the pocketbook. +</p> + +<p> +“You must have had some difficulty in keeping track of yourself,” Harleston +remarked, as he made a note of the names. +</p> + +<p> +Then he returned the bills and the cards to the book, and put it back in +Crenshaw’s pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s unwise to carry so much money about you,” he remarked; “it induces +spending, as well as provokes attack.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that to you?” replied Crenshaw angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing whatever—it’s merely a word of advice to one who seems to need it. Now +for the other pockets.” +</p> + +<p> +The coat yielded nothing additional; the waist-coat, only a few matches and an +open-faced gold watch, which Harleston inspected rather carefully both inside +and out; the trousers, a couple of handkerchiefs with the initial C in the +corner, some silver, and a small bunch of keys—and in the fob pocket a crumpled +note, with the odour of carnations clinging to it. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston glanced at Crenshaw as he opened the note—and caught a sly look in +his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Something doing, Crenshaw?” he queried. +</p> + +<p> +Another shrug was Crenshaw’s answer—and the sly look grew into a sly smile. +</p> + +<p> +The note, apparently in a woman’s handwriting, was in French, and contained +five words and an initial: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +À l’aube du jour.<br/> +M. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston looked at it long enough to fix in his mind the penmanship and to +mark the little eccentricities of style. Then he folded it and put it in +Crenshaw’s outside pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you!” said he, with an amused smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You forgot to look in the soles of my shoes?” Crenshaw jeered. +</p> + +<p> +“Someone else will do that,” Harleston replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Someone else?” Crenshaw inflected. +</p> + +<p> +“The police always search prisoners, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“My God, you don’t intend to turn me over to the police?” Crenshaw exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” And when Crenshaw did not reply: “Wherein are you different from any +other + +felon taken red-handed—except that you were taken twice in the same night, +indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Think of the scandal that will ensue!” Crenshaw cried. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t affect me!” Harleston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t affect you?” the other retorted. “Maybe it won’t—and maybe it will!” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall try it,” Harleston remarked, and picked up the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +Crenshaw watched him with a snarling sneer on his lips. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston gave the private number of the police superintendent. He himself +answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Major Ranleigh, this is Harleston. I’d like to have a man report to me at the +Collingwood at once.—No; one will be enough, thank you. Have him come right up +to my apartment. Good-bye!—Now if you’ll excuse me for a brief time, Mr. +Crenshaw, I’ll get into some clothes—while you think over the question whether +you will explain or go to prison.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will not dare!” Crenshaw laughed mockingly. “Your State Department won’t +stand for it a moment when they hear of it—which they’ll do at ten o’clock, if +I’m missing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me felicitate you on your forehandedness,” Harleston called from the next +room. “It’s admirably planned, but not effective for your release.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hell!” snorted Crenshaw, and relapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Harleston appeared, dressed for the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not spread your cards on the table, Crenshaw?” he asked. “I did stumble on +the deserted cab this morning, wholly by accident; I was on my way here. I did +find in it a letter and these roses, and I brought them here. I don’t know if +you know what that letter contained—I do. It’s in cipher—and will be turned +over to the State Department for translation. What I want to know is: +first—what is the message of the letter, if you know; second—who was the woman +in the cab, and the facts of the episode; third—what governments, if any, are +concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re amazingly moderate in your demands,” Crenshaw sarcasmed; “so moderate, +indeed, that I would acquiesce at once but for the fact that I’m wholly +ignorant of the contents of the letter. The name of the woman, and the episode +of the cab + +are none of your affair; nor do the names of parties, whether personal or +government, concern you in the least.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. We’ll close up the cards and play the game. The first thing in the +game, as I said a moment ago, Crenshaw, is not to squeal when you are in a hole +and losing.” +</p> + +<p> +A knock came at the door. Harleston crossed and swung it open. +</p> + +<p> +A young man—presumably a business man, quietly-dressed—stood at attention and +saluted. If he saw the bound man in the chair, his eyes never showed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Whiteside,” Harleston remarked. “I’m glad it is you who was sent. Come +in.... You will remain here and guard this man; you will prevent any attempt at +escape or rescue, even though you are obliged to use the utmost force. I’m for +down-town now; and I will communicate with you at the earliest moment. +Meanwhile, the man is in your charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mr. Harleston!” Whiteside answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I want some breakfast!” snapped Crenshaw. +</p> + +<p> +“The officer will order from the cafe whatever you wish,” Harleston replied; +and picking up his + +stick he departed, the letter and the photograph in the sealed envelope in his +inside pocket. +</p> + +<p> +As he went out, he smiled pleasantly at Crenshaw. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V—Another Woman</h2> + +<p> +Harleston walked down Sixteenth Street—the Avenue of the Presidents, if you +have time either to say it or write it. The Secretary of State resided on it, +and, as chance had it, he was descending the front steps as Harleston came +along. +</p> + +<p> +Now the Secretary was duly impressed with all the dignity of his official +position, and he rarely failed to pull it on the ordinary individual—cockey +would be about the proper term. In Harleston, however, he recognized an unusual +personage; one to whom the Department was wont to turn when all others had +failed in its diplomatic problems; who had some wealth and an absolutely secure +social position; who accepted no pecuniary recompense for his service, doing it +all for pure amusement, and because his government requested it. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s too fine a day to ride to the Department,” + +said the Secretary. “It’s much too fine, really, to go anywhere except to the +Rataplan and play golf.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston agreed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you on at four o’clock,” the Secretary suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“If that is not a command,” said Harleston, “I should like first to consult you +about a matter which arose last night, or rather early this morning. I was +bound for your office now. I can, however, give you the main facts as we go +along.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed!” said the Secretary. “I’m all attention.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be of grave importance and it may be of very little—” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it is of first importance, judging from known facts. If Carpenter can +translate the cipher message, it will—” +</p> + +<p> +“The Department has full faith in your diagnosis, Harleston. You’re the +surgeon; you prescribe the treatment and I’ll see that it is followed. Now +drive on with the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“It begins with a letter, a photograph, a handkerchief, + +three American Beauty roses—all in the cab of the sleeping horse—” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless my soul!” exclaimed the Secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“—at one o’clock on Massachusetts Avenue and Eighteenth Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the horse still asleep, Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“The horse awoke, and straightway went to his stand in Dupont Circle!” +Harleston laughed and related the incidents of the night and early morning, +finishing his account in the Secretary’s private office. +</p> + +<p> +“Most amazing!” the latter reflected, eyes half-closed as though seeing a +mental picture of it all. +</p> + +<p> +Then he picked up the photograph and studied it awhile. +</p> + +<p> +“So this is the wonderful Madeline Spencer—who came so near to throwing our +friend, the King of Valeria, out of his Archdukeship, and later from his +throne. I remember the matter most distinctly. I was a friend of the Dalberg +family of the Eastern Shore, and of Armand Dalberg himself.” He paused, and +looked again at the picture. “H-u-m! She is a very beautiful woman, Harleston, +a very beautiful woman! I think I have never seen her + +equal; certainly never her superior. These dark-haired, classic featured ones +for me, Harleston; the pale blonde type does not appeal. The peroxides come of +that class.” Again the photograph did duty. “I could almost wish that she were +the lost lady of the cab of the sleeping horse—so that I might see her in the +flesh. I’ve never seen her, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston smoothed back a smile. The Secretary too was getting sentimental over +the lady, and he had never seen her; though he had known of her rare doings; +and those doings had, it appeared, had their natural effect of enveloping her +in a glamour of fascination because of what she had done. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve seen her?” the Secretary asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve known her since she was Madeline Cuthbert. Since then she’s had a +history. Possibly, taken altogether she’s a pretty bad lot. And she is not only +beautiful; she’s fascinating, simply fascinating; it’s a rare man, a very rare +man, who can be with her ten minutes and not succumb to her manifold +attractions of mind and body.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have succumbed?” the Secretary smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I have—twenty times at least. You’ll join + +the throng, if she has occasion to need you, and gives you half a chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m married!” said the Secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite aware of it!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m immune!” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet you’re wishing to see her in the flesh!” Harleston smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I can safely take the risk!” smoothing his chin complacently. +</p> + +<p> +“Other men have thought the same, I believe, and been burned. However, if the +lady is in Washington I’ll engage that you meet her. Also, I’ll acquaint her of +your boasted immunity from her <i>beaux yeux</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“The latter isn’t within the scope of your duty, sir,” the Secretary smiled. +“Now we’ll have Carpenter.” +</p> + +<p> +He touched a button. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later Carpenter entered; a scholarly-looking man in the fifties; bald +as an egg, with the quiet dignity of bearing which goes with a student, who at +the same time is an expert in his particular line—and knows it. He was the +Fifth Assistant Secretary, had been the Fifth Assistant and Chief of the Cipher +Division for years. His superior + +was not to be found in any capital in Europe. His business with the secret +service of the Department was to pull the strings and obtain results; and he +got results, else he would not have been continued in office. His specialty, +however, was ciphers; and his chief joy was in a case that had a cipher at the +bottom. Ciphers were his recreation, as well as his business. +</p> + +<p> +The Secretary with a gesture turned him over to Harleston—and Harleston handed +him the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make out of it, Mr. Carpenter?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Carpenter took the letter and examined it for a moment, holding it to the +light, and carefully feeling its texture. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a great deal cursorily,” he answered. “It’s a French paper—the sort, I +think, used at the Quay d’Orsay. Have you the envelope accompanying it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here it is!” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“This envelope, however, is not French; it’s English,” Carpenter said +instantly. “See! a saltire within an orle is the private water-mark of Sergeant +& Co. I likely can tell you more after careful examination in my workshop.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about the message itself?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the Vigenèrie cipher, that’s reasonably certain; and, as you are aware, +Mr. Harleston, the Vigenèrie is practically impossible of solution without the +key-word. It is the one cipher that needs no code-book, nor anything else that +can be lost or stolen—the code-word can be carried in one’s mind. We used it in +the De la Porte affair, you will remember. Indeed, just because of its +simplicity it is used more generally by every nation than any other cipher.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that you might be able to work it out,” said Harleston. “You can do +it if any one on earth can.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can do some things, Mr. Harleston,” smiled Carpenter deprecatingly, “but I’m +not omniscient. For instance: What language is the key-word—French, Italian, +Spanish, English? The message is written on French paper, enclosed in an +English envelope.—However, the facts you have may clear up that phase of the +matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here are the facts, as I know them,” said Harleston. + +Carpenter leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and listened. +</p> + +<p> +“The message is, I should confidently say, written in English or French, with +the chances much in favour of the latter,” he said, when Harleston had +concluded. “Everyone concerned is English or American; the men who descended +upon you so peculiarly and foolishly, and who showed their inexperience in +every move, were Americans, I take it, as was also the woman who telephoned +you. Moreover, she is fighting them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then your idea is that the United States is not concerned in the matter?” the +Secretary asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not directly, yet it may be very much concerned in the result. We will know +more about it after Mr. Harleston has had his interview with the lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so!” the Secretary reflected. “We shall trust you, Harleston, to find +out something definite from her. Keep me advised if anything turns up. It seems +peculiar, and it may be only a personal matter and not an <i>affaire +d’état</i>. At all events, you’ve a pleasant interview before you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I have—and maybe I haven’t!” + +Harleston laughed—and he and Carpenter went out, passing the French Ambassador +in the anteroom. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston went straight to Police Headquarters. The Chief was waiting for him. +</p> + +<p> +“I had Thompson, your cab driver, here,” said Ranleigh, “and he tells a +somewhat unusual but apparently straight tale; moreover, he is a very +respectable negro, well known to the guards and the officers on duty around +Dupont Circle, and they regard him as entirely trustworthy. He says that last +evening about nine o’clock, when he was jogging down Connecticut Avenue on his +way home—he owns his rig—he was hailed by a fare in evening dress, top coat, +and hat, who directed him to drive west on Massachusetts Avenue. In the +neighbourhood of Twenty-second Street, the fare signalled to stop and ordered +him to come to the door. There he asked him to hire the horse and cab until +this morning, when they would be returned to him at that point. Thompson +naturally demurred; whereupon the man offered to deposit with him in cash the +value of the horse and cab, to be refunded upon their return in the morning +less fifty dollars for their hire. This was too + +good to let slip and Thompson acquiesced, fixing the value at three hundred and +fifty dollars, which sum the man skinned off a roll of yellow-backs. Then the +fare buttoned his coat around him, jumped on the box, and drove east on +Massachusetts Avenue. This morning the horse and cab were backed up to the curb +at their customary stand in Dupont Circle, where they were found by officer +Murphy shortly after daybreak; before he could report the absence of the +driver, Thompson came up and explained.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can Thompson describe the man?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Merely that he was clean-shaved, medium-sized, somewhat stout, wore evening +clothes, and was, apparently, a gentleman. Thompson thinks however, that he +could readily recognize the man, so we should let him have a look at the fellow +that’s under guard in your apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t he,” Harleston explained. “He’s slender, with a mustache and +imperial. It was Marston, likely. Did any of your officers see cab No. 333 +between nine P.M. and this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“The reports are clean of No. 333, but we are investigating now. It’s not +likely, however. + +Meanwhile, if there is anything else I can do, Mr. Harleston—” +</p> + +<p> +“You can listen to the balance of the episode—beginning at half-past one this +morning, when I found the cab deserted at Eighteenth Street and Massachusetts +Avenue, with the horse lying in the roadway, asleep in the shafts....” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you wish the police to do, Mr. Harleston?” the Superintendent asked at +the end. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, until I’ve seen the Lady of Peacock Alley. Then I’ll likely know +something definite—whether to keep hands off or to get busy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shan’t we even try to locate the two men, in preparation for your getting +busy?” +</p> + +<p> +“H’m!” reflected Harleston. “Do it very quietly then. You see, I don’t know +whom you’re likely to locate, nor whether we want to locate them.” +</p> + +<p> +“The men who visited your apartment are not of the profession, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s their profession that’s bothering me!” Harleston laughed. “Why are three +Americans engaged in what bears every appearance of being a diplomatic matter, +and of which our State Department knows nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a woman in it, I believe; likely two, possibly three!” was the smiling +reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Hump!” said Harleston. “A woman is at the bottom of most things, that’s a +fact; she’s about the only thing for which a man will betray his country. +However, as they’re three men there should be three women—” +</p> + +<p> +“One woman is enough—if she is sufficiently fascinating and plays the men off +against one another. Though you’ve plenty of women in the case, Mr. Harleston, +if you’re looking for the three:—the one whom you’re to meet this afternoon; +the unknown who left the Collingwood so mysteriously; and the one of the +photograph. If the other two are as lovely as she of the photograph they are +some trio. I shouldn’t care for the latter lady to tempt me overlong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wise man!” Harleston remarked, as he arose to go. “I’ll advise you after the +interview. Meanwhile you might have the cabby look at the fellow in durance at +the Collingwood. Possibly he has seen him before; which may give us a lead—if +we find we want a lead.” +</p> + +<p> +The telephone buzzed; Ranleigh answered it—then raised his hand to Harleston to +remain. + +After a moment, he motioned for Harleston to come closer and held the receiver +so that both could hear. +</p> + +<p> +“I can see you at three o’clock,” Ranleigh said. +</p> + +<p> +“Three o’clock will be very nice,” came a feminine voice—soft, with a bit of a +drawl. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” Ranleigh replied. “If you will give me your name—I missed it. Whom +am I to expect at three?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Winton, of the Burlingame apartments. I’ll be punctual—and thank you so +much. Good-bye!” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything familiar about the voice?” Ranleigh asked, pushing back the +instrument. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston shook his head in negation. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it might be your Lady of Peacock Alley, for it’s about the cab +matter. She says that she has something to tell me regarding a mysterious cab +on Eighteenth Street last night sometime about one o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are quite too many women in this affair,” Harleston commented. “However, +the Burlingame is almost directly across the street from where I found the cab, +so her story will be interesting—if it’s not a plant.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it may be even more interesting if it is + +a plant,” Ranleigh added. “If you will come in a bit before three, I’ll put you +where you can see and hear everything that takes place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do it!” said Harleston. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI—The Grey-Stone House</h2> + +<p> +Harleston returned at a quarter to three, and Ranleigh showed him into the +small room at the rear, provided with every facility for seeing what went on +and overhearing and reducing what was said in the Superintendent’s private +office. +</p> + +<p> +Promptly at three, Mrs. Winton was announced by appointment, and was instantly +admitted. +</p> + +<p> +She was about thirty years of age, slender, with dark hair and a face just +missing beauty. She was gowned in black, with a bunch of violets at her waist, +and she wore a large mesh veil, through which her particularly fine dark eyes +sparkled discriminatingly. +</p> + +<p> +The Superintendent arose and bowed graciously. Ranleigh was a gentleman by +birth and by breeding. +</p> + +<p> +“What can I do for you, Mrs. Winton?” he + +asked, placing a chair for her—where her face would be in full view from the +cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +“You can do nothing for me, sir,” she replied, with a charming smile. “I came +to you as head of the Police Department for the purpose of detailing what I saw +in connection with the matter I mentioned to you over the telephone. It may be +of no value to you—I even may do wrong in volunteering my information, but—” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary,” the Superintendent interjected, “you confer a great favour +on this Department by reporting to it any suspicious circumstances. It is for +it to investigate and determine whether they call for action. Pray proceed, my +dear Mrs. Winton.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave him another charming smile and went on. +</p> + +<p> +“I was out last evening, and it was after midnight when I got back to the +Burlingame. My apartment is on the third floor front. Instead of going to bed +at once, I sat down at the open window to enjoy the gentle breeze. I must have +dozed, for I was aroused by a cab coming up Eighteenth and stopping before the +large, grey-stone house opposite—the rest of the houses are + +brick—which was unoccupied until two days ago, when it was rented furnished. I +live just across the street and hence I notice these things—casually of course, +as one does. I watched the cab with languid interest; saw the driver descend +from the box, which seemed a bit peculiar; but when, instead of going to the +door of the cab, he went up the front steps and into the house—the door of +which he opened with a key that he took from his pocket—my curiosity was +aroused. A moment later, a man in evening dress came leisurely out and +sauntered to the carriage. It seemed to me he was interested in looking around +him, and at the houses opposite, rather than at the cab. He remained at the +cab, presumably in talk with those within, for several minutes. Presently the +door clicked and a woman stepped out, followed by a man. The woman disappeared +into the house. The two men drew in so close to the cab that they were hidden +from me; when they reappeared, they were carrying a woman—or her body—between +them. They hurriedly crossed the sidewalk mounted the steps, and the house-door +closed behind them instantly. The noise of the door seemed to arouse the horse, +doubtless he took it + +for the door of the cab, and he started slowly up the street toward +Massachusetts Avenue. After walking a short distance, and in front of a vacant +lot near the corner, he halted—obviously he realized that no one was holding +the lines, and he was waiting for his driver to return. Just then one of the +men put his head out of the doorway, saw that the horse was no longer before +the house, and dodged quickly back. I waited for further developments from the +house. None came, except that in one of the rooms a light was made, but it was +behind closed shades. Pretty soon the horse calmly lay down in the shafts, +stretched out, and apparently went to sleep. Disturbed by the occurrence, and +debating what I ought to do, I sat a while longer; and I must have dozed again, +for when I awoke the house was dark, and a man, a strange man, I think, was +standing beside the cab, and the horse was up. The man was gathering the reins; +he fastened them to the driver’s seat, spoke to the horse, and the horse moved +off and into Massachusetts Avenue toward Dupont Circle. The man watched him for +a moment; then turned and went down Massachusetts Avenue. After waiting a short +while, I went to bed. This + +morning, I decided it was well for you to know of the episode.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have told it wonderfully well, Mrs. Winton,” said the Superintendent, +“wonderfully well, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know how often I rehearsed,” she laughed, “nor how much of the +essentials I may have omitted!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much, I fancy. However, you’ll not object, I suppose, to answering a few +questions as to details.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you to ask anything that suggests itself,” she replied. “I’ve an +appointment at the Chateau at five; just give me time to keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll get through long before five!” the Superintendent smiled, though his +shrewd grey eyes were coldly critical. It was most unlikely that she was the +Lady of Peacock Alley; yet all things are possible where a woman is concerned, +as he knew from experience. “About what time was it when the cab stopped before +the house?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“About one o’clock, as near as I can judge,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the interval between the driver’s going into the house and the man in +evening clothes coming out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Scarcely any interval—not more than a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know how long a minute is?” said Ranleigh, drawing out his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly!” she admitted. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind if I test you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in the least.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then tell me when it is a minute....” +</p> + +<p> +“Now?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Fourteen seconds!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Fourteen seconds!” she exclaimed incredulously “It’s not possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re considerably above the average, Mrs. Winton. However, it depends much +on what you’re doing at the moment. Last night when you were watching, not +estimating, you probably were nearer right as to the interval. When, may I ask, +did the driver reappear?” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t reappear—at least that I saw; he may have come out of the house +while I dozed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Might not the man that you saw last have been he?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly sure it wasn’t. The driver was medium-sized and stout, this man +was tall and slender. I couldn’t have been mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +Ranleigh nodded. Her story was testing up very well on the known points. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mrs. Winton, can you give some description of the woman in the case—her +appearance—how she was dressed—anything to aid us in identifying her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I can’t be of much help,” Mrs. Winton replied. “She was, I think, +clad in a dark street gown. In the uncertain electric light, I could not +distinguish the colour—and the men were so close to her I had little chance to +see. About all I’m sure of is that it was a woman; slender and about the +average height. I did not see her face.” +</p> + +<p> +The Chief nodded again. +</p> + +<p> +“What about the house, Mrs. Winton? Did you see anything unusual before +tonight?” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw no one but the servants—though I didn’t look quite all the time,” she +added with a smile. “I’m not unduly curious, I think, Major Ranleigh, under +the, to me, unusual circumstances; and in + +mitigation of my curiosity, I’ve told no one of the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a woman of rare discretion, Mrs. Winton,” the Superintendent replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear I’m a busy-body,” she returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish then there were more busy-bodies of your sort. Tell me, could you +recognize the men?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not with any assurance.—Neither could I recognize the occupants of the house,” +she added. “The truth is, though you may doubt, that I scarcely notice them; +but one can’t see a to-let-unfurnished sign on a house opposite for six months, +without remarking its sudden disappearance from the landscape.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say that you wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t notice—and comment, +too,” Ranleigh declared. “And the Department is much indebted to you for the +information, and it appreciates the spirit that moves you in the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Winton arose to go—the Superintendent accompanied her into the hall, rang +the bell for the elevator, and bowed her into it. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you wish to know the result?” he + +inquired with a quizzical smile, as he put her in the car. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not unduly curious!” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +When he returned, Harleston was standing in his office lighting a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s infernally close, not to mention hot, in that cabinet of yours,” he +observed; “though one can see and hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ever see her before?” the Superintendent asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t recall it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ever hear the voice?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Good to look at, truthful, sincere.” +</p> + +<p> +“And her story?” +</p> + +<p> +“Simple statement of fact, I take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum!” said Ranleigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Which means?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing at present; may be nothing at any time. I never believe a story till +its truth is established—and then I’m still in a receptive state of mind. +However, it does seem true, and Mrs. Winton herself supports it; which is +enough for the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate, we’ve found the lady of the cab,” Harleston remarked. “Or rather +we’ve located her as of one o’clock, which is shortly before I happened on the +scene.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything in the description that corresponds to the lady of the +photograph?” +</p> + +<p> +“It all corresponds; slight, above medium-height, dark gown—she affects dark +gowns;—but thousands of women are slight, above medium-height, and wear dark +gowns.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least it eliminates the very tall and the stout,” Ranleigh observed. “Let +me ask you, what do you make of Mrs. Winton’s appointment at the Chateau at +five, and her being gowned in black?” +</p> + +<p> +“A mere coincidence, I think. What would be her object in telling this story to +you between three and four o’clock, and meeting me at five to recover the lost +document.” +</p> + +<p> +“Search me! I’m sure only of this: there are too many women in this affair, Mr. +Harleston, too many women! Man is a reasoning being and somewhat consistent; +but women—” a gesture ended the remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Just so!” Harleston laughed. “And now for the Lady of Peacock Alley!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>VII—Surprises</h2> + +<p> +Peacock Alley was in full gorgeousness when Harleston, just at five o’clock, +paused on the landing above the marble stairs inside the F Street entrance and +surveyed the motley throng—busy with looking and being looked at, with charming +and being charmed, with wondering and being wondered at, with aping and being +aped, with patronizing and being patronized, with flattering and being +flattered, with fawning and being fawned upon, with deceiving and being +deceived, with bluffing and being bluffed, with splurging, with pretending, +with every trick and artifice and sham and chicanery that society and politics +know, or can fancy. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston was familiar with it all for too many years even to accord it a +glance of contemptuous indifference—when he had anything else to occupy + +his mind; and just now his mind was on a lady in black with three American +Beauties on the gown. +</p> + +<p> +He went slowly down the steps to the main corridor and joined the buzzing, +kaleidoscopic crowd. +</p> + +<p> +Somewhere on the floor above, an orchestra was playing for the <i>dansant</i>; +and the music came fitfully through the chatter and confusion. He nodded to +some acquaintances, bowed formally to others, shook hands when it could not be +avoided; all the while progressing slowly down the corridor in search of three +red roses on a black gown. +</p> + +<p> +And near the far end he saw, for an instant through a rift in the crowd, the +three roses on a black gown, but not the face above them; the next instant the +rift closed. However, he knew now that she was here and where to find her, and +he made his way through the press toward where she was waiting for him. +</p> + +<p> +Then the crowd suddenly opened—as crowds do—and he saw, on the same side of the +corridor and scarcely ten feet apart, two slender women in black and wearing +red roses; one was Mrs. Winton, the other he had never seen. +</p> + +<p> +It brought him to a sharp pause. Then he + +smiled. Ranleigh was right! There were altogether too many women in this case. +And which one was waiting for him? He knew neither, but there was the chance +that the one he was to meet knew him. +</p> + +<p> +And so he adventured it, walking slowly toward them, and taking care that they +should notice him. +</p> + +<p> +They did. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Winton glanced at him casually and impersonally. +</p> + +<p> +The unknown, whose face was from him, turned sharply when he dropped his stick, +and looked at him unrecognizingly. As her eyes came down they rested on the +other woman. +</p> + +<p> +She gave a subdued exclamation, arose and threaded her way to the opposite side +of the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston, glancing back, saw the move, and swinging over he followed. He would +speak to her—meanwhile, he was looking at her. So far, at least, both were good +to look at; they must be good to look at in this business, it is part of the +stock in trade. +</p> + +<p> +“Good afternoon, Madame X,” he said, bowing before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how do you do, Mr. Harleston,” she smiled, giving him her hand and making +room beside her on the settee. “I’m delighted to see you, just delighted!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is nice to meet again, isn’t it?” he returned. “When did you get to town?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only yesterday! You live in Washington, now, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, off and on. It’s my headquarters for refitting and starting afresh. What +do you say to a turn at the <i>dansant</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ready, I’m sure,” she replied. “Afterward we’ll—” +</p> + +<p> +“Discuss other matters!” he interjected. +</p> + +<p> +She gave him an amused look, and they passed down the corridor and up the +marble steps to the elevator. +</p> + +<p> +They were dancing the <i>Maxixe</i> when they entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind if we don’t do it on the heels?” said she. “I think it’s prettier +the other way.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” said he, and they drifted down the room. +</p> + +<p> +He knew almost everyone on the floor; the women nodded to him, then stared +coldly at his + +companion; the men too stared at her—but not coldly—and when they thought about +it, which was seldom of late, nodded to him, and resumed their staring. +</p> + +<p> +And Harleston did not wonder—indeed, had it been otherwise, it would have +argued a sudden paucity of appreciation on the part of the smart set there +assembled. For this slender young person in black, a small hat on her head, +topping hair of flaming red, an exquisite figure and a charming pair of slender +high-arched feet, was worth anyone’s staring, be it either coldly or with frank +interest. And she did not seem to know it; which in this day of smug and +blatant personal appreciation of one’s good points—feminine points—is something +of a rarity in the sex. It may be, however that Madame X was fully aware of her +beauty, but she was modest about it, or seemed to be; which amounts to the same +thing. +</p> + +<p> +They sat down at a remote table and Harleston ordered two cold drinks—an +apollinaris with a dash of lemon for her, a Jerry Hill for himself. He noticed +that the men were looking and wavering and he deliberately turned his chair +around and gave them his back. He had no objection + +to presenting the Lady of Peacock Alley to his men friends, but just at this +time it was not convenient. The adventure was rather unusual, and the lady +altogether attractive and somewhat fascinating; he chose, for the present at +least, to go it alone. Moreover, they were to meet on a matter of her business +and by her appointment. +</p> + +<p> +He had suggested the <i>dansant</i> that he might study her. And the more he +saw of her, the more he was struck by her unaffected naturalness and apparent +sincerity. Not a word, not even a suggestion while they were dancing, of the +matter of the cab; it was as though she were just an old friend. And her +dancing was a delight—such a delight, indeed, that he was reluctant to have it +end. Somehow, one gets to know quickly one’s partner in the <i>dansant</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“This is perfectly entrancing, Mr. Harleston,” she said presently, “but don’t +you think we would better hunt a retired corner and discuss other matters?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will dine with me when we’ve discussed them,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only six o’clock,” she smiled; “will the discussion take so long?” +</p> + +<p> +“It depends somewhat on when you wish to dine, and somewhat on the character of +the discussion.” +</p> + +<p> +Her smile grew into a quiet, rippling laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along,” she answered. “I’ve found a secluded nook in the big red-room +downstairs. It’s cozy and nice, and I’ve had the maid reserve it for me. +Afterwards,” with a sharp stab of her brown eyes, “I’ll decide whether I’ll +dine with you.” +</p> + +<p> +The place was as she had said, cozy and nice and secluded; and he put her into +it—where the subdued light would fall on her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, sir,” she smiled; “I am not afraid of the light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor would I be if I were you,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why fence?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, indeed?” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“And why, may I ask, did you meet me here this afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Curiosity—later, satisfaction and appreciation.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why do you think I wanted to meet you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven knows!” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose, Mr. Harleston, we resume the conversation just where we left off last +night. Your last remark then was that I had a chance to get the articles, but +no one else had a chance. I’m here now for my chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that chance depends on a number of contingencies,” he replied: “whether I +have the desired articles; whether you have the title to them, or the right of +possession to them; whether they concern private matters or public matters; if +the latter, whether the United States is concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can assume the first,” said she. “I know for a fact that you took the +articles in question from the cab, which you found deserted before a vacant +lot.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know it?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, as I told you over the telephone, you were seen—in fact, I saw you. I +saw you light a match inside the cab, come out with the envelope, look it over +quickly, and put it in your pocket. You’ll admit these facts?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am advised by my counsel that I’m not obliged to answer!” he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“On the ground that it will incriminate you?” + +she asked quickly. “Isn’t that tantamount to admitting the fact?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a matter of argument, it seems to me.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled good naturedly and went on: +</p> + +<p> +“As to your second contingency, Mr. Harleston; the envelope and its contents +were left with me for delivery to another party—which I believe gives me the +right of possession, as you term it. At any rate, it gives me a better title +than yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“If the party who left them with you had a good title,” he amended. “If, +however, he obtained them from—a deserted cab, say—then his title would be no +better than you’ve put in me; not so good, in fact, for according to your tale +I have the envelope.” +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged again. +</p> + +<p> +“Now as to your third contingency,” she went on, “I am not able to say what is +the nature of the document, nor whom nor what nation it concerns.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that you’re ignorant of its contents and its nature?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She met his glance frankly. “I mean that I haven’t any idea of its contents or +its purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +He slowly tapped his cigarette against the swinging brass ash-receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t it be well, my dear Madame X, to lay your cards on the table—all your +cards?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly willing, if you’ll do likewise,” she replied instantly. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” he returned. “Let me see your hand and you shall see mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“This one?” she smiled, holding it up. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned over and took the long, slim fingers in the tips of his own—and she +let him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s mighty pretty,” he said, with assumed gravity. “Am I to have it in place +of the facts—or along with them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither at present,” withdrawing her hand. “Business first, Mr. Harleston—and +cards on the table.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re to play,” he smiled, “and whenever you will.” +</p> + +<p> +Ordinarily he made up his mind very quickly as to another’s sincerity, but she +puzzled him. What was the game? And if there were no game so far as she was +concerned, how did she happen to be in the very midst of it, and trying to +recover—or + +to obtain—the cipher letter and the photograph? It was a queer situation? the +reasonable inferences were against her. Yet— +</p> + +<p> +“I hardly know where to begin,” she was saying. +</p> + +<p> +“Begin at the beginning,” he advised. +</p> + +<p> +He must appear to credit her story that she was concerned only as an innocent +associate. And it was not difficult to do, sitting there beside her in the +subdued light, under the witching tones of her voice, and the alluring +fascination of her face. The face was not perfect; far from it, if by perfect +is meant features accordant with one another and true to type. Her hair was +flaming red; her eyes were brown, dark brown, a certain pensiveness in them +most inaccordant with the hair; her nose was slender, with sensitive nostrils; +her mouth was generous with lips a trifle full; her teeth were exquisitely +white and symmetrical—and she showed them with due modesty, yet with proper +appreciation of their beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether she was a very charming picture; and throwing away his cigarette, he +lighted a cigar and settled back to watch the play of her features and hear the +melody of her voice. He was a trifle impressed with the lady—and he was willing +that + +the tale require time and attention. Furthermore, it was his business to +observe her critically, so that he might decide as to the matter in hand. In +the present instance his business was very much to his liking, but that did not +make it any the less business. +</p> + +<p> +Something of which the lady may have suspected and was prepared to humour. A +man must be humoured at times—particularly when the woman is trying for +something that can only be come at through his favour or acquiescence. +</p> + +<p> +“To begin at the beginning will make it a long story,” she warned. +</p> + +<p> +“Then by all means begin it there,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“You can endure it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very comfortable; we are alone; and the <i>light</i> is admirable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Same here!” she smiled, with a tantalizing glance from the brown eyes. “Can +you start me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I might, but I won’t. The glory shall all be yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad there is to be some glory in this affair; there’s been little enough +so far. However, to begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“No hurry, my dear Madame X.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you want my decision as to dinner?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You can continue the narrative while we dine. Now to begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then vanish Madame X, and enter Mistress Clephane.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a woman and a man entered the room from the corridor by the +middle door, and crossed to a divan in the corner farthest from Mrs. Clephane +and Harleston. The former had her back to them; Harleston was facing their way +and saw them. +</p> + +<p> +The man was middle-aged, bald, and somewhat stout—and Harleston recognized one +of his visitors of the early morning. The woman was sinuous, with raven hair, +dead white complexion, a perfectly lovely face, and a superb figure. Harleston +would have known that walk and that figure anywhere and at any time even if he +had not seen her face. +</p> + +<p> +It was Madeline Spencer. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>VIII—The Story</h2> + +<p> +Harleston quickly swung his chair around so that the broad back hid Mrs. +Clephane and himself. He was quite sure that she had noticed the pair; though +when he glanced at her she was looking thoughtfully at him, as if considering +where to begin her story. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know the two who just came in and are sitting in the far corner,” he +asked; “the slender woman and the bald-headed man?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered; “except that she is an exceedingly fine-looking woman—as +you doubtless have noted.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve noted other things!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“About her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not about her.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, deliciously he thought. +</p> + +<p> +“I best get on with my tale,” she said. “So, once upon a time, which means, to +be accurate, + +about ten days ago, I took a steamer at Cherbourg for New York. On the boat was +a Madame Durrand, whom I had known on the Continent and in London for a number +of years. Neither was aware of the other’s sailing until we met aboard. I think +that it was on the fourth day out she asked me to come to her state-room; there +she told me that she was a secret agent of the French Government and the bearer +of a most important letter from a high official, written however in his private +capacity to their Ambassador in Washington; that she had a presentiment ill +fortune would befall her on the way; that there was no one else on the ship in +whom she trusted; and that she wanted me to accompany her to Washington, and, +if she were to meet with an accident, to deliver the letter to the Ambassador. +I consented, wishing to oblige her, and being bound for Washington. She showed +me where she carried the letter, and gave me the verbal message that went with +it, which was the name of the Minister and that he sent it in his private +capacity and not officially. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not in the secret service of a government, as you doubtless can infer from +my knowledge of matters and use of technical language!” she + +smiled. “And the affair rather fascinated me, I admit, by its unusualness. +Moreover, I knew Madame Durrand intimately—how intimately may be inferred from +the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we landed, had our baggage chalked, and went to the Plaza for the night. +In the morning, we took a taxi to the Pennsylvania Station, were held up by +traffic, and were hurrying down the marble steps to catch our train, when a +man, hurrying also, jostled Madame Durrand. Her heel caught and she plunged +head first down to the landing. Of course men sprang forward to her assistance +and picked her up—with her wrist and ankle broken. She was plucky, however, +wonderfully plucky. She did not faint, as I’m sure I should have done; she just +turned ghastly pale—and said to me, with a bit of smile, motioning for me to +bend over her so that none could hear: +</p> + +<p> +“‘I told you so, Edith. Here is where you come in.’ She slid her hand under her +skirt, drew out the envelope, and slipped it to me. ‘Hurry!’ + +she said. ‘You can yet make the train.’ +</p> + +<p> +“But I was obdurate; I wouldn’t leave her until she was in a hospital and +comfortable. And when she saw I meant it, she smiled—and fainted. + +Well, instead of the ten o’clock train, I caught the twelve, which should have +landed me here at five, but a series of delays, due to accidents ahead; put us +at seven. It was, I thought, too late to deliver my letter that evening, so I +took a taxi here and had dinner. Then I paid a short visit to some friends at +the Shoreham and returned shortly before midnight. I found two notices that I +had been called on the telephone at 10:15 and 11:00, by parties who declined to +give their names or leave a call. This struck me as queer since no one knew of +my being in town except my friends at the Shoreham. A moment after I entered my +room, the telephone rang. I answered. A man’s voice came back. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Who is that?’ said he. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Whom do you want?’ said I. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I wish to speak to Mrs. Clephane.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Very well,’ said I; ‘I’m Mrs. Clephane.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, Mrs. Clephane, we have been trying for you since ten o’clock!’ said he. +‘The Ambassador wishes to see you at once. Can you be ready to come in fifteen +minutes—we’ll send a carriage for you?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘How did you know’—I began, then stopped. ‘Yes, I’ll be ready,’ said I; ‘but +let one of the staff come with the carriage.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, of course!’ he replied. ‘In fifteen minutes, madame?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t fancy going out at midnight, yet I had undertaken the matter and I +would see it through. I had not changed from my travelling suit and it hadn’t a +pocket in it; nor had I one such as Madame Durrand employed, so I was carrying +the letter pinned inside my waist. Now I took it out and put it in my hand-bag, +all the while thinking over the affair and liking it less the more I thought. +It was pretty late at night, and there was something suspicious about the +affair. I went to the desk and hurriedly wrote a note to the friends that I had +just left; then I called a page, and ordered him to take it at once to the +Shoreham. On the envelope I had written the instruction that it was not to be +delivered until morning. +</p> + +<p> +“As I finished, the telephone rang and Mr. and Mrs. Buissard, I think that was +the name, were announced as coming by appointment. I went down at once. Mrs. +Buissard was in evening dress, a pretty, vivacious woman, Mr. Buissard was a +man of thirty, slender, with a little black + +moustache and black hair. Somehow I didn’t like him; and I was glad he had +brought his wife—she was charming. +</p> + +<p> +“They had a cab instead of a car or taxi. We got in and drove up Fourteenth to +H, and out H to Sixteenth. As we swung in Sixteenth, the man leaned forward to +the window on my side. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Look at that!’ he exclaimed excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“As I turned to look, the woman flung her silk wrap over my head and twisted it +tightly about my neck. +</p> + +<p> +“I tried to cry out, but a hand closed over my mouth and only a weak gurgle +responded. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Listen, Mrs. Clephane!’ said the man, ‘We mean you no harm. Give us the +package you have for the French Ambassador, and we will at once return you to +your hotel.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I’m pretty much a coward, yet I managed to hold myself together and not faint, +and to say nothing. I didn’t care a straw for the letter, but I didn’t fancy +being defeated at that stage of the game. I tried to think—but thinking is a +bit difficult under such circumstances. Just as the wrap went over my head, my +hand happened to be on my hand-bag. I quietly opened it, dropped + +the letter close along the seat, and closed the bag. Here was a slight chance +to balk them—at all events, it was the only course occurring to me at the +moment. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Has she fainted?’ asked the man. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I think so,’ said the woman, ‘or she is scared to death.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Here was a suggestion—and I took it. I remained perfectly quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well,’ was his answer, ‘we’re almost there, and it’s a lucky chance. No +trouble at all, Seraphina.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I had felt the cab round several corners; almost immediately after the last it +stopped. I’m a trifle hazy as to what they did; but finally I was passed out of +the cab like a corpse and carried into a house. There the wrap was removed from +my head; I blinked uncertainly, and looked around in a bewildered fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where am I?’ I gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“The woman replied, ‘You’re in absolutely no danger, Mrs. Clephane. We want the +package you have for the French Ambassador; when we have it, we will send you +back to your hotel.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘What is to be done with the cab?’ someone asked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Nothing,’ another replied. ‘The horse will find his way to his stand; he’s +almost there.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘But I haven’t any package!’ I protested. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Come, come!’ the woman answered briskly. ‘You have it about you somewhere; +that was what you were going to the Embassy to deliver?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Who are you?’ I demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It matters not who we are—we want the package.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘The package is not with me,’ I remarked. ‘It’s locked in the hotel safe.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Will you permit yourself to be searched?’ she asked, with an amused smile. I +knew it was a threat. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’m perfectly willing to submit to a search by <i>you</i>,’ I said. ‘The +quicker you set about it, the quicker I’ll be released. I don’t care for these +diplomatic affairs; they may be regular but they seem unnecessarily dangerous. +I was simply a substitute anyway, and I won’t substitute again; though how you +people discovered it I don’t see.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Because you’re new at the game,’ she replied, as we passed into the +drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +“She closed the door—and I soon satisfied her that the package was not +concealed about me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I may go now?’ I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I think so, but I must consult the Chief,’ she replied. ‘I’ll be back in a +minute.’ +</p> + +<p> +“They seemed high-class knaves at least; but it was quite evident that the +diplomatic game and its secret service were distinctly not in my line. I want +no more of them even to oblige a friend in distress. I hate a mess!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very glad for this mess,” Harleston interjected. “Otherwise I should not +have—met you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you are the only compensation for the mess, Mr. Harleston!” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +She said it so earnestly Harleston was almost persuaded that she meant +it—though he replied with a shrug and a sceptical laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“But the woman was long in returning,” Mrs. Clephane resumed; “and after a +while I put out the light, and going to the window raised the shade. The cab +was no longer before the house; it had moved a little distance to the left, and +the horse was lying down in the shafts. As I was debating whether to risk the +jump from the window, a man came down the street and halted at the cab.—That +man was you, Mr. Harleston. The rest of the tale + +you know much better than I—and the material portion you are to tell me, or +rather to give me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you know the man at the cab was I? You didn’t recognize me in the +corridor, this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes I did—but I waited to see if you would follow me, or would go up to +the other woman in black and roses.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never was in doubt!” Harleston laughed. “I told you, on the telephone, that +I could pick you out in a crowd; after a glimpse of you, I could—” he ended +with a gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Still pick me out,” she supplied. “Well, the important thing is that you +<i>did</i> pick me out—and that you’re a gentleman. Also you forget that your +picture has been pretty prominent lately, on account of the Du Portal affair; +and besides you’ve been pointed out to me a number of times during the last few +years as something of a celebrity. So, you see, it was not a great trick to +recognize you under the electric lights, even at one o’clock in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded. It was plausible surely. Moreover, he was prepared to accept +her story; + +thus far it seemed straightforward and extremely credible. +</p> + +<p> +“It was about three when you telephoned to me—where were you then?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“At the Chateau. They were kind enough to release me about three o’clock, and +to send me back in a private car—at least, it wasn’t a taxi. Now, have you any +other questions?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not, for the present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I satisfied you that my tale is true?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am satisfied,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will give me the letter?” she said joyfully. +</p> + +<p> +“And what of the roses?” +</p> + +<p> +“I presented them to you last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“And of this handkerchief?” drawing it from his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +She took the bit of lace, glanced at it, and handed it back. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not mine,” she replied. “Probably it’s the other woman’s.” She held out +her hand, the most symmetrical hand Harleston had ever seen. “My letter, +please, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“I no longer have the letter,” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you—” she exclaimed; “but you can lay your hand on it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can lay my hand on it,” he smiled—“whenever you convince me, or I ascertain, +that the letter does not concern directly or indirectly the diplomatic affairs +of the United States. You forget that was the concluding stipulation, Mrs. +Clephane. Meanwhile the letter will not, you may feel assured, fall into the +possession of the party who attempted to steal it from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does it all mean?” she asked, leaning forward. “Who beside France are the +parties concerned?” +</p> + +<p> +“It means that some nation is ready to take desperate chances to prevent your +letter from reaching the French Ambassador. What actuates it, whether to learn +its contents or to prevent its present delivery, I naturally do not know.” Then +he laughed. “Would it interest you very much to learn, Mrs. Clephane, that I +was visited last night by three men, who tried, at the point of the revolver, +to force the letter from me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You surely don’t mean it!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +And with this exclamation the last doubt in Harleston’s mind of Mrs. Clephane’s +having aught + +to do with the night attack vanished—and having acquitted her in that respect, +there was scarcely any question as to the sincerity and truth of her tale. +</p> + +<p> +As it has been remarked previously, Mrs. Clephane was very good to look at—and +what is more to the point with Harleston, she looked back. +</p> + +<p> +“I had all sorts of adventures, beginning with the cab of the sleeping horse, +three crushed roses, a bit of lace, and a letter,” he laughed; “and the +adventures haven’t yet ended, and they grow more interesting as they progress.” +</p> + +<p> +“They didn’t get the letter?” she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“They got nothing but the trouble of getting nothing,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the letter now, Mr. Harleston—is it safe from them?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a note of concern in her voice, and it puzzled him. What else did she +know—or didn’t she know anything? Was it only his habit in diplomatic affairs +to doubt everything that was not undoubtable. +</p> + +<p> +“The letter,” he replied, “is with the expert of the State Department for +translation.” +</p> + +<p> +“What language is it in?” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Cipher language—and a particularly difficult cipher it is. Can you help us +out, Mrs. Clephane?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, Mr. Harleston; I don’t know anything about ciphers. And I told you +the whole truth when I said that I neither knew what the envelope contained nor +its purpose. What disturbs me is how to explain to the French Ambassador the +loss of the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him the exact truth,” said Harleston. “It would have been better possibly +had you told him this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you would return the letter to me,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I likely should, had I seen you before I turned it over to the State +Department. Now that it has passed out of my hands, it is a matter for the +Secretary to decide.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he will be advised by you!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Advised, yes,—dominated, no. The only chance of the letter being returned to +you, is that it does not affect this government.” +</p> + +<p> +“Diplomacy then is willing to stoop to any crime or to profit by any wrong?” +she mocked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I must admit the accusation. Everything is fair in love and war, +you know—and diplomacy is only a species of war.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I no redress for the outrage upon me, nor for the loss of the letter by +reason of that outrage?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’ll find the wheels of justice very slow-moving—when they have +to do with affairs diplomatic.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the letter, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must remember, Mrs. Clephane, that I found the letter in an abandoned +cab.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now that you know to whom it belongs,” she flashed, “you will not return +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I can’t! Which brings us back to where we started—and to dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not dine with you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let me dine with you!” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fix it any way you wish, only so that we dine together,” he persisted. “I’ve +the cosiest little table reserved for us, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Harleston,” the page was calling. “Mr. Harles—” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston turned, and the boy saw him. +</p> + +<p> +“Telephone, sir,” said he, giving Harleston the call slip. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you excuse me a moment, Mrs. Clephane?” Harleston asked, and hurried +out—conscious all the while that Madeline Spencer and her companion were +watching him. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Police Headquarters, Mr. Harleston,” came the voice over the wire. +“Major Ranleigh wants to know if you will meet him at his office at ten o’clock +tonight. The Major was called out suddenly or he would have telephoned you, +himself!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be on hand,” Harleston replied, hung up the receiver, and hurried back. +</p> + +<p> +As he entered the red-room, he shot a covert glance toward the place where Mrs. +Spencer and her companion had been sitting. +</p> + +<p> +They were gone! +</p> + +<p> +“Yes! Yes!” said he under his breath, and turned toward the corner where he had +left Mrs. Clephane. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clephane was gone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>IX—Decoyed</h2> + +<p> +Harleston faced about and surveyed the entire room. Then not content with +surveying, he deliberately walked through it, and satisfied himself that Mrs. +Clephane was not there—nor Madeline Spencer, nor her bald-headed companion. +</p> + +<p> +He took a turn up and down the corridor, and up and down again. They were not +there. +</p> + +<p> +He even walked through the dining-rooms. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing! +</p> + +<p> +“Hum!” said he, at length—and returned to the red-room, and to his chair. It +was quite possible that Mrs. Clephane would be back in a moment—yet somehow he +doubted. +</p> + +<p> +He waited for a quarter of an hour, and she did not come. He made another tour +of Peacock Alley, the lobby, the dining-rooms, and back to the red-room. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing! +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his watch—it was half-after-seven o’clock. He would wait fifteen +minutes longer. Then, if she had not come, he would go about his +business—which, at present, was to dine. +</p> + +<p> +He sat with his watch in his hand, looking down the room and at those who +entered. +</p> + +<p> +The fifteen minutes passed. He put up his watch and arose; the wait was ended. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the corridor to the dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +“The table in yonder corner, Philippe,” he said, to the bowing head-waiter. +</p> + +<p> +“One, Monsieur Harleston?” the man replied; and himself escorted him over and +placed him, and took his order for dinner. From which facts it can be inferred +that Harleston was something of a personage at the big caravansary. +</p> + +<p> +The clams had just been placed before him, and he was dipping the first one in +the cocktail, when Madeline Spencer and the bald-headed man entered and passed +to a table—reserved for them—at the far side of the room. Harleston knew that +she saw him, though apparently she had not glanced his way. Here was another +move in the game; but what the game, and what the immediate object? +</p> + +<p> +His waiter whisked away the clam cocktail and put down the clear turtle. +</p> + +<p> +As Harleston took up his spoon, a page spoke a word to Philippe, who motioned +him to Harleston’s corner. The next instant the boy was there, a letter on the +extended salver—then he faded away. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston put aside the letter until he had finished his soup; then he picked +it up and turned it over. It was a hotel envelope, and addressed simply: “Mr. +Harleston,” in a woman’s handwriting—full and free, and, unusual to relate, +quite legible. He ran his knife under the flap and drew out the letter. It was +in the same hand that wrote the address. +</p> + +<div class="letter"> + +<p> +“DEAR MR. HARLESTON: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve just seen someone whom I wish to avoid, so won’t you be good enough to +dine with me in my apartment. It’s No. 972, and cosy and quiet—and please come +at once. I’m waiting for you—with an explanation for my disappearance. +</p> + +<p style="text-align: right">“EDITH CLEPHANE.” +</p> + +</div> + +<p> +“Hum!” said Harleston, and drummed thoughtfully on the table. Then he arose, +said a word to + +Philippe as he passed, and went out to the elevator. +</p> + +<p> +He got off at the ninth floor and walked down the corridor to No. 972. It was a +corner and overlooked Pennsylvania Avenue and Fourteenth Street. He tapped +lightly on the door; almost immediately it was opened by a maid—a very pretty +maid, he noticed—who, without waiting for him to speak, addressed him as +Monsieur Harleston and told him that Madame was expecting him. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston handed the maid his hat, stick, and gloves, and crossed the private +hall into the drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +As he passed the doorway, a heavy silk handkerchief was flung around his neck +from behind, and instantly tightened over his larynx; at the same time his arms +were pinioned to his side. He could neither make a sound nor raise a hand. He +was being garroted. At his first struggle the garrote was twisted; it was be +quiet or be strangled. And, queer as it may seem, his first thought was of the +garroters of India and the instant helplessness of their victims. In fact, so +immediate was his helplessness, that it sapped all will to be otherwise than +quiescent. +</p> + +<p> +“Two can play at this game, Mr. Harleston,” said a familiar voice, and Crenshaw +stepped out in front. “I’m in a better humour now, and more my natural self; I +was somewhat peeved in the Collingwood—due to late hours, I think. By the way, +it isn’t an especially pleasant game for the fellow who is it, Mr. Harleston? +I’ll take your answer for granted—or we’ll let my distinguished colleague +answer for you—you know Mr. Sparrow, sir?” as the man with the garrote put his +head over Harleston’s shoulder. “Answer for Mr. Harleston will you, Sparrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is not, Mr. Crenshaw,” said Sparrow. +</p> + +<p> +“I neglected to ask if you’re not surprised to see me, Mr. Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am indeed,” said Sparrow. +</p> + +<p> +“I regret that it was inconvenient for me to remain longer in your apartment, +Mr. Harleston—and so I exchanged places with your detective,” Crenshaw +explained. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite content, Mr. Crenshaw,” Sparrow replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, certainly, and thank you, Mr. Harleston,” Crenshaw smiled. “And now, with +your permission, sir, we shall inspect the contents + +of your pockets, to the end that we may find a certain letter that you wot +of—also ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +After the first warning twist, the garrote had been relaxed just enough to +permit Harleston breath sufficient for life, yet not sufficient for an outcry; +moreover, he knew that at the first murmur of a yell the wrist behind him would +turn and he would be throttled into unconsciousness. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing to do but be quiet and as complaisant as his captors wished, +and await developments. And the irony of such a situation—happening in the most +crowded and most popular hotel in the Capital, with hundreds of guests at hand, +and scores of servants poised to obey one’s slightest nod—struck him with all +the force of its supreme absurdity. It was but another proof of the proposition +that one is never so alone as in the midst of a throng. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled—somewhat chillily, it must be admitted—and whispered, his speaking +voice being shut off by the garrote. +</p> + +<p> +“The quicker you look, the sooner I shall, I hope, be released from this rather +uncomfortable position.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good eye!” said Crenshaw. “You’re a + +reasonable man, Mr. Harleston, it’s a pleasure to do business with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed!” Harleston whispered. “I haven’t the letter with me, as you should +know. Do I look so much like a novice? Furthermore, if I am not mistaken, I +told you that I was going direct to the State Department to deliver the letter +for translation so how could I have it now?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re not debating, we’re searching,” Crenshaw sneered; “though it may occur +to you that a copy is as easy of translation as the original. However, we will +proceed with the inspection—the proof of the caviare is in the roe of the +sturgeon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I pray you open the fish at once,” said Harleston. “I can’t assist you in +my present attitude, so get along, Mr. Crenshaw, if you please. You interrupted +my dinner—I was just at the soup; and you may believe me when I say that I’m a +bit hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“With your permission,” Crenshaw replied, proceeding to go through Harleston’s +pockets, and finding nothing but the usual—which he replaced. +</p> + +<p> +He came last to the breast-pocket of the coat; in it were the wallet and one +letter—the letter that had brought Harleston here. +</p> + +<p> +“It caught you!” Crenshaw smiled. “There’s no bait like a pretty woman!” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston raised his eyebrows and shrugged his answer. +</p> + +<p> +“And a rather neat trap, wasn’t it—we’re very much pleased with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll not be pleased with what it produces,” Harleston smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“It has produced you,” the other mocked; “that’s quite some production, don’t +you think? And now, as this letter has served its purpose, I’ll take the +liberty of destroying it,” tearing it into bits and putting the bits in his +pockets, “lest one of us be liable for forgery. Now for the pocket-book; you +found something in mine, you may remember, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston gave a faint chuckle. They would find nothing in his pocket-book but +some visiting and membership cards, a couple of addresses and a few +yellow-backs and silver certificates. +</p> + +<p> +“The letter doesn’t seem to be there—which I much regret, but these visiting +cards may be useful in our business; with your permission I’ll take them. Thank +you, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +He folded the book and returned it to Harleston’s pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I might have looked in your shoes, or done something disagreeable—I believe I +even promised to smash your face when I got the opportunity—but I’m better +disposed now. I shall return good for evil; instead of tying you up as you did +me, I’ll release you from your bonds if you give me your word to remain quiet +in this room until tomorrow morning at eight, and not to disclose to anyone, +before that hour, what has occurred here.” +</p> + +<p> +“After that?” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall be at liberty to depart and to tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I do not give my word?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Crenshaw pleasantly, “we shall be obliged to bind you and gag you +and leave you to be discovered by the maid—which, we shall carefully provide, +will not be before eight tomorrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You leave small choice,” Harleston observed. +</p> + +<p> +“Just the choice between comfort and discomfort!” Crenshaw laughed. “Which +shall it be, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston had been shifting slowly from one foot to the other, feeling behind +him for the man with + +the garrote. He had him located now and the precise position where he was +standing—one of his own legs was touching Sparrow’s. +</p> + +<p> +At the instant Crenshaw had finished his question, Harleston suddenly kicked +backwards, landing with all the force of his sharp heel full on Sparrow’s shin. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly the garrote loosened; and Harleston, with a wild yell, sprang forward +and swung straight at the point of Crenshaw’s jaw. +</p> + +<p> +Crenshaw dodged it—and the two men grappled and went down, fighting furiously; +Harleston letting out shouts all the while, and even managing to overturn a +table, which fell with a terrific smash of broken glass and bric-à-brac, to +attract attention and lead to an investigation. +</p> + +<p> +He had not much trouble in mastering Crenshaw; but Sparrow, when he was done +spinning around on one foot from the agonizing pain of the kick on the shin, +would be another matter; the two men and the woman could overpower him, unless +assistance came quickly. And to that end he raised all the uproar possible for +the few seconds that Sparrow spun and the woman stared. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Sparrow hobbled to Crenshaw’s aid, + +Harleston landed a short arm blow on the latter’s ear and sprang up, avoided +the former’s rush and made for the hall-way. +</p> + +<p> +At the same moment came a loud pounding on the corridor door. The noise had +been effective. +</p> + +<p> +In a bound, Harleston reached the door; it should, as he knew, open from within +by a turn of the knob. But it was double-locked on the inside and the key was +missing. +</p> + +<p> +He whirled—just in time to see the last of the mixed trio disappear into the +drawing-room, and the door snap shut behind them. +</p> + +<p> +He sped across and flung himself against it—it was locked. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the pounding on the corridor door went on. +</p> + +<p> +“Try another door!” Harleston shouted. +</p> + +<p> +But by reason of the heavy door and the din, some time elapsed before he could +attract the attention of those in the corridor and make himself understood. +Then more time was consumed in getting the floor-maid with the pass-key to the +room adjoining the drawing-room of the suite. +</p> + +<p> +By that time, the manager of the hotel had come up and put himself at the head +of the relief; and he + +was not in the best of temper when he entered and saw the debris of the +bric-à-brac and the table. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the meaning of—” he demanded—then he recognized Harleston and +stopped—“I beg your pardon, Mr. Harleston! I didn’t know that you were here, +sir; this apartment was occupied by—” +</p> + +<p> +“Two men and a woman,” Harleston supplied. “Well, it’s been vacated by them in +deference to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand!” said the manager. +</p> + +<p> +“If you will have the baggage, which, I imagine, is in the bedrooms, examined, +and give me your private ear for a moment, I’ll endeavour to explain as much as +I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, Mr. Harleston,” the man replied; and, directing the others to +examine the baggage, he closed the door of the drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +“First tell me who occupied this suite, when it was taken, and when they came,” +said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment,” said the manager, and picking up the telephone he called the +office. “It was, the office says, occupied by a Mr. and Mrs. + +Davidson of New York City, who took it this afternoon about five o’clock. They +had made no reservation for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now as to their baggage.” +</p> + +<p> +The manager bowed and went out—to return almost instantly, a puzzled expression +on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Two new and cheap suit cases, each containing a couple of bricks and some +waste paper,” he reported. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” nodded Harleston, “I thought as much. Mr. Banks, you will confer a +favour on me, and possibly on the government, if you will be good enough to let +this affair pass unnoticed, at least for the time. I’ll pay for the broken +table and its contents, and a proper charge for the rooms for the few hours +they’ve been occupied. I overturned the table. As for the rest—how I came to be +here, and what became of the occupants, and why the furniture was smashed, and +why I have a slight contusion in my cheek, and anything else occurring to the +management as requiring explanation, just forget it, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good!” said Harleston. “Now wait one moment.” +</p> + +<p> +He went to the telephone and asked for Mrs. Clephane’s apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Her maid answered—with the information that Mrs. Clephane had been out since +five o’clock and had not yet returned. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston thanked her, hung up the receiver, and turned to Banks. +</p> + +<p> +“I have reason to believe that Mrs. Clephane, who is a guest of the hotel, has +disappeared. I was talking to her in the red-room at about 6:30, when I was +called to the telephone. On my return, after a brief absence, she was gone, and +a frequent and thorough search on the first floor did not disclose her. She was +to have dined with me at seven-thirty. She did not keep the engagement. I dined +alone, and had just begun the meal when a letter was handed to me asking that I +dine with her in her apartment, No. 972. I came here at once—and was held up by +two men and a woman, who sought to obtain something that they imagined was in +my possession. It wasn’t, however, and we fought; and I raised sufficient +disturbance to bring you. You see, I have told you something of the affair. The +note was a forgery. This isn’t Mrs. Clephane’s apartment, and her maid has just +told me + +that her mistress has not been in her apartment since five o’clock—which was +the time she met me. I am persuaded that she is a prisoner, and likely in this +hotel—held so to prevent her disclosing a certain matter to a certain high +official. What I want is for you to make every effort to determine whether she +is in this house.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll do it, Mr. Harleston,” the manager acquiesced instantly. “Come down to +the office and we’ll go over the guest diagram, while I have every unoccupied +room looked into. In fact, sir, we’ll do anything short of burglaring our +guests.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be right down,” Harleston said; “after I’ve bathed my face and +straightened up a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +The contusion on his cheek was not particularly noticeable; it might be worse +in the morning; his collar was a trifle crushed and his hair was awry; on the +whole, he had come out of the fight very well. +</p> + +<p> +He took up his stick and gloves, put on his hat so as to shade, as far as +possible, the cheek-bone, and went down to the private office. +</p> + +<p> +There was, of course, the chance that Mrs. Clephane had lured him into the +trap, and had herself written the decoy note; but he did not + +believe her guilty. Even though Crenshaw had adroitly implicated her, he was +not influenced. Indeed, he was convinced of just the reverse:—that she was +honest and sincere and inexperienced, and that she had told him the true story +of the letter and its loss. At least he was acting on that theory, and was +prepared to see it through. Maybe he was a fool to believe those brown eyes and +that soft voice and those charming ways; if so, he preferred to be a fool for a +little while, to, if not, being a fool to her forever. He had, in his time, +encountered many women with beautiful faces and compelling eyes and alluring +voices and charming ways, but with none had they been so blended as in Mrs. +Clephane. +</p> + +<p> +He did not know a thing as to her history—he did not even know whether she was +married, a widow, or a divorcée. Whatever she was, he was willing to accept her +as genuine—until she was proven otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +All of which would indicate that she had made something of an impression on +Harleston—who was neither by nature nor by experience impressible and, in the +diplomatic game, had about as much sentiment as a granite crag. In fact, with + +Harleston every woman who appeared in the diplomatic game lay under instant and +heavy suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clephane was the first exception. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>X—Skirmishing</h2> + +<p> +On the slender chance of finding Mrs. Clephane, Harleston made another tour of +the rooms and corridor on the first floor. +</p> + +<p> +It was without avail—save that he noticed Madeline Spencer and her escort were +still at dinner. They did not see him—and he was very well content. Later he +would want a word with them—particularly with her; and he preferred to meet her +alone. She was a very beautiful woman, and very alluring, and the time was, and +not so long ago, when he would have gone far out of his way to meet her; but +another face—and business—occupied him at present. Moreover, the business had +to do with Mrs. Spencer, and that shortly. Therefore he was content to be +patient. Mrs. Clephane first. +</p> + +<p> +So he went on to the private office and the manager. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve just taken another look over this floor,” he said; “Mrs. Clephane is not +to be seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“We paged her, also,” returned Banks; “and we’ve had every vacant room in the +house examined without result. Here’s the diagram; let us go over it, perhaps +we can get a lead from it. About half of the guests are personally known to the +hotel; they are either permanent guests or have been coming here for a long +time. However, pick out any that you suspect and we’ll try to find a way to get +into their rooms. We are always at the service of the government, particularly +the State Department.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston ran his eyes over the diagram, searching for Madeline Spencer. It was +barely possible that she was registered under one of her own names. He found it +at last—or thought he had: No. 717:—Madame Cuthbert and maid. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know of her?” he asked, indicating No. 717. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing whatever, except that she seems to have plenty of money, and looks the +lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“When did she come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three days ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is No. 717?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two bedrooms, a parlour, and a bath.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to know if she has had callers, and who they are; also, if the +house detective knows anything of her movements?” +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, sir,” said Banks— +</p> + +<p> +“And you might inquire also,” Harleston added, “as to the bald-headed man who +is her companion this evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, sir,” said Banks, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you there are quite too many women in this affair,” Harleston +muttered—and went back to inspecting the chart. +</p> + +<p> +And the more he inspected, the more hopeless grew his task. If Mrs. Clephane +had been lured to one of the rooms, it would be next to impossible to find her. +There were a hundred well-dressed and quiet-mannered guests who seemed beyond +suspicion; and yet it was in the room of one of these unobtrusive guests, who +had never so much as looked at Mrs. Spencer, that Mrs. Clephane was held +prisoner. There was small hope—none, indeed—that a search of Madeline Spencer’s +apartment would yield even a clue. She was not such a bungler; though that she +was the directing spirit in the entire affair he had not the least + +doubt. Her photograph fixed the matter on her; and while he was quite sure she +was not aware of the photograph, yet she was aware of the letter, had made a +desperate effort to prevent its delivery, and now was making a final effort to +prevent Mrs. Clephane from advising the French Ambassador of its loss. +</p> + +<p> +As to him, Mrs. Spencer was not concerned. His possession of the letter, under +such circumstances, effectually closed his mouth; if he happened to know for +whom the letter was intended, his mouth was closed all the tighter. It was a +rule of the diplomatic game never to reveal, even to an ally, what you know; +tomorrow the ally may be the enemy. Harleston might yield the letter to +superior force or to trickery, but he would never babble of it. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened to admit Banks. +</p> + +<p> +“The detective has nothing whatever as to Madame Cuthbert,” he explained. “He +says she is apparently a lady, and nothing has occurred to bring her under his +notice. For the same reason, no list of her callers has been made—though the +desk thinks that they have been comparatively few. The man with whom she + +dined this evening is a Mr. Rufus Martin. He has been with her several times. +He is a guest of the hotel—room No. 410.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you have her apartment and Martin’s looked over without exciting +suspicion?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think we can manage it,” Banks responded. “Indeed, I think we can manage to +have all the rooms inspected; I have already told the detective what we +suspect, and he has put on an employee’s uniform and with a basket of electric +bulbs is now testing the lights in every occupied room. The moment he finds +Mrs. Clephane, or anything that points to her, he will advise us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said Harleston. “Meanwhile, I’ll have another look in Peacock Alley.” +</p> + +<p> +He was aware that he was acting on a pure hunch. He realized that his theory of +Mrs. Clephane’s imprisonment in the house was most inconsistent with the facts. +Why did they release her last night, if they were fearful of her communicating +to the French Ambassador the loss of the letter? And why should they take her +again this evening? It was all unreasonable; yet reason does not prevail +against a hunch—even to a reasoning man, who is also a diplomat. +</p> + +<p> +He sauntered along the gay corridor bowing to those he knew. As he faced about +to return, he saw Madeline Spencer, alone, bearing down upon him. +</p> + +<p> +The moment their eyes met, she signalled a glad smile and advanced with hands +extended. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Guy!” she exclaimed. “What a surprise this is!” +</p> + +<p> +“And what a charming pleasure to me, Madeline,” he added, taking both her hands +and holding them. “I thought you were in Paris; indeed, I thought you would +never leave the City of Boulevards.” +</p> + +<p> +“So did I, yet here I am; yet not for long, I trust, Guy, not for long.” +</p> + +<p> +“America’s misfortune,” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Or fortune!” she laughed. “It’s merely a matter of viewpoint. To those who +have knowledge of the comparatively recent past, Madeline Spencer may be a +<i>persona non</i>. However—” with a shrug of her shapely shoulders and an +indifferent lift of her fine hands. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Harleston; that +is, if you’re not afraid for your reputation. I assume that here you have a +reputation to protect.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite sure that my reputation, whatever it be, won’t suffer by what you +intimate!” he smiled, and handed her into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“You were much surprised to see me, <i>n’est-ce pas</i>?” she asked low, +leaning close. +</p> + +<p> +“Much more than much,” he replied confidentially. +</p> + +<p> +“Honest?” she asked, still low and close. +</p> + +<p> +“Much more than honest,” he answered. “It’s been a long time since we met.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three months!” +</p> + +<p> +“Three months is much more than long—sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave him an amused smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I was thinking of you only last night,” he volunteered. +</p> + +<p> +“What suggested me?” she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it must have been your proximity,” he replied easily and instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wireless,” she laughed, “or community of interests?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—the impression was vivid enough, while it lasted, for you to have +been in the room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I was—in spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure of it,” he replied. “How long have you been in Washington, Madeline?” +</p> + +<p> +“You should have felt my proximity as soon as I arrived,” she responded. +</p> + +<p> +“I felt it nearing when you left Paris—and growing closer as time went on. You +see, I have a remarkable intuition as—to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Charming!” she trilled. “Why not get a <i>penchant</i> for me, as well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I have—and don’t venture to declare myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You!” she mocked +</p> + +<p> +“Meaning that I can’t get a <i>penchant</i>, or that I am not afraid to +declare?” +</p> + +<p> +“Both!” she laughed. “Now quit talking nonsense and tell me about yourself. +What have you been doing, and what are you doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the very profitable and busy occupation of killing time,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, but what else?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“What, for instance, were you doing last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Last night? I dined at the Club, played auction and went home at a seemly +hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Home? Where is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Collingwood.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what adventure befell you on the way—if any?” +</p> + +<p> +“Adventure? I haven’t had an adventure since I left the Continent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly. I wish I had—to vary the monotony.” +</p> + +<p> +She traced a diagram on the rug with the tip of her slipper. +</p> + +<p> +“It depends on what you regard as an adventure,” she smiled. “I should think +the episode of the cab, with what followed at your apartment, was very much in +that line?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, to be sure!” exclaimed Harleston, with an air of complete surprise. +“However did—Great Heavens, Madeline, were <i>you</i> the woman of the roses +and the cab?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know that I wasn’t!” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then how do you know of the cab of the sleeping horse, and what followed?” he +inquired blandly. +</p> + +<p> +“I dreamed it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderful! Simply wonderful!” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded tolerantly. “Why keep up the + +fiction?” she asked. “You know that I am concerned in your adventure—just as I +know of your adventure. I was on the street, or in the house, or was told of +it, whichever you please; it’s all one, since you know. Moreover you have seen +me with one of your early morning callers, as I meant you to do.” She leaned +forward and looked at him with half-closed eyes. “Will you believe me, Guy, +when I say that the United States is not concerned in the matter—and that it +should keep its hands off. You stumbled by accident on the deserted cab. A +subordinate blundered, or you would not have found it ready for your +investigation—and you’ve been unduly and unnecessarily inquisitive. We have +tried to be forbearing and considerate in our efforts to regain it, but—” +</p> + +<p> +“Regain, my dear Madeline, implies, or at least it conveys an idea of, previous +possession. Did Germany—I beg your pardon; did your client in this matter have +such—” +</p> + +<p> +“I used regain advisedly,” she broke in. +</p> + +<p> +“Because of your possession of the lady, or because of your independent +possession of the letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re pleased to be technical,” she shrugged. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all!” he replied. “I’m simply after the facts: whether the letter +belongs to you, or to the mysterious lady of the cab?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who isn’t in the least mysterious to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, you’re delicious, Mr. Harleston; though I confess that <i>you</i> have +<i>me</i> mystified as to your game in pretending what you and I know is +pretence.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re pleased to be enigmatic!” Harleston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no I’m not,” she smiled, flashing her rings and watching the flashes—and +him. “You saw me, and you know that I saw you; and I saw you and know that you +saw me. Now, as I’ve said it in words of one syllable, I trust you will +understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” said he; “but you have side-stepped the point:—To whom does +this lost letter belong: to you or to—” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Clephane?” she adjected. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly: to you, or to Mrs. Clephane?” +</p> + +<p> +“What does that matter to you—since it does not belong to <i>you</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I may be a friend of Mrs. Clephane? Or I + +may regard myself as a trustee for the safe delivery of the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“A volunteer?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you so have it!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +She beat a tattoo with her slender, nervous fingers, looking at him in mild +surprise, and some disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +“Since when does sentiment enter the game?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Sentiment?” he inflected. “I wasn’t aware of its entry.” +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged mockingly. “Beware, old friend and enemy! You’re losing your +cleverness. Mrs. Clephane is very charming and alluring, but remember, Guy, +that a charming woman has no place in the diplomatic game—save to delude the +enemy. She seems to be winning with you—who, I thought, was above all our wiles +and blandishments. Oh, do not smile, sir—I recognize the symptoms; I’ve played +the innocent and the beauty in distress once or twice myself. It’s all in our +game—but I’m shockingly amazed to see it catch so experienced a bird as Guy +Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m greatly obliged, Madeline, for your shocking + +amazement,” Harleston chuckled. “Meanwhile, and returning to the letter; who +has the better title to possession, Mrs. Clephane or yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“As I remarked before, either of us has a better title to the letter than +yourself. Also—I have heard you say it many times, and it is an accepted rule +in the diplomatic game—never meddle in what does not concern you; never help to +pull another’s chestnuts out of the fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear lady, you are perfectly right! I subscribe unreservedly to the rule, +and try to follow it; but you have overlooked another rule—the most vital of +the code.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, pray!” +</p> + +<p> +“The old rule:—Never believe your adversary. Never tell the truth—except when +the truth will deceive more effectively than a lie.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is entirely regular, yet not applicable to the present matter. I’m +<i>not</i> your adversary.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say you’re not—yet how does that avoid the rule?” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you take my word, Guy?” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“I am at a loss whether to take it or not,” he reflected; “being so, I’m in a +state of equipoise until I’m shown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me how I can show you?” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the remotest idea. You know as well as I that if you were to tell me +truthfully why you are here, and what you aim to accomplish, I couldn’t accept +your story; I should have to substantiate it by other means.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that I can’t show you?” she said sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. “No more than I could show you were our positions reversed.” +</p> + +<p> +What her purpose, in all this talk, he failed to see—unless she were seeking to +establish an <i>entente cordiale</i>, or to gain time. The latter was the +likelier—yet time for what? They both were aware that all this discussion was +twaddle—like much that is done in diplomacy; that they were merely skirmishing +to determine something as to each other’s position. +</p> + +<p> +“I had hoped that for once you would forget business and trust me,” she said +softly; “in memory of old times when we worked together, as well as when we +were against each other. We played + +the game then for all that was in it, and neither of us asked nor gave quarter. +But this isn’t business Guy,—” she had gradually bent closer until her hair +brushed his cheek—“that is, it isn’t business that concerns your government. +You may believe this implicitly, old enemy, absolutely implicitly.” +</p> + +<p> +“With whom, then, has it to do?” he inquired placidly. +</p> + +<p> +She sighed just a trifle—and moved closer. +</p> + +<p> +“You will never tell, nor use the information?” she breathed. +</p> + +<p> +“Not unless my government needs it?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Peste!</i>” she exclaimed. “You and your government are—However, I’ll tell +you.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “It has to do with England, Germany, +and France: at least, I so assume. It has to do with Germany or I wouldn’t be +in it, as you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is the business?” he continued. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not informed—further than that it’s a secret agreement between England and +Germany, which France suspects and would give much to block or to be advised +of. As to what the agreement embodies, I am in the dark—though I fancy + +it has to do with some phase of the Balkan question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why would England and Germany conclude an agreement as to the Balkan +question—or any question, indeed—in Washington?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know; I’m quite ready to admit its seeming improbability. Possibly +Germany desired the experience of her new Ambassador, Baron Kurtz, and didn’t +care to order him to Europe. Possibly, too, they chose Washington in order to +avoid the spying eyes of the secret service of the other Powers. At all events, +I’ve told you all that I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why are <i>you</i> here?” he went on. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m here to watch—and to do as I’m directed. I’m on staff duty, so to speak. +I’m not quite in your class, Guy. I’ve never operated quite alone.” She looked +at him thoughtfully. “We two together would make a great pair—oh, a very great +pair!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure of it,” he replied. “Sometime, I hope, we can try it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not try it now?” she said gently. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in the American secret service—and, you said, America is not involved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Join with Germany—and me—for this once.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. “I serve my country for my pleasure. Germany is another +matter. If, sometime, in an affair entirely personal to you, Madeline, I should +be able to assist you, I shall be only too glad for the chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t trust me,” she replied sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“Trust is a word unknown in the diplomatic vocabulary!” he smiled. “Moreover, I +couldn’t do what you want even if I believed and trusted your every word. You +want the letter—the Clephane letter. I haven’t it—as you know. It’s in the +possession of the State Department.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let it remain there!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“It probably will until it’s translated,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s in cipher?” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded. “Do you know what it contains?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately, I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would like to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Above everything!” +</p> + +<p> +“And until then you would not have the French Ambassador advised of the letter, +nor of the adventure of the cab?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely, old friend, precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +“How will you prevent Mrs. Clephane telling it?” +</p> + +<p> +“We must try to provide for that!” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you keep her prisoner, when you had her last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“That was a serious blunder; it won’t happen again.” +</p> + +<p> +“H-u-m,” reflected Harleston; and his glance sought Mrs. Spencer’s and held it. +“Where is Mrs. Clephane now?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +For just an instant her eyes narrowed and grew very dark. Then suddenly she +laughed—lightly, with just a suggestion of mockery in the tones. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Clephane—is yonder!” said she. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston turned quickly. Mrs. Clephane was coming down the corridor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>XI—Half A Lie</h2> + +<p> +“Somewhat unexpected, isn’t it?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“To whom—you, her, or myself?” Mrs. Spencer inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“To you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at <i>all</i>. I’m never surprised at anything!” Then just a trace of +derision came into her face. “Won’t you present me, Mr. Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, I will,” he responded gravely, and arose. +</p> + +<p> +“Another unexpected!” she mocked. “But she <i>is</i> good to look at, Guy, I +must grant you that. Also—” and she laughed lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment,” said he tranquilly, and turned toward Mrs. Clephane—who had +caught sight of him and was undecided what to do. +</p> + +<p> +Now, smiling adorably, she came to meet him. +</p> + +<p> +“The two beauties of the season!” he thought; + +and as he bowed over her hand he whispered: “Not a word of explanation +<i>now</i>; and play ignorance of <i>everything</i>.—Understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand—but I’ll do as you direct,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to present you to Mrs. Spencer—the woman whom, you will recall, I asked +you in the red-room if you recognized. Be careful, she is of the enemy—and +particularly dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone seems to be dangerous except myself,” she replied. “I’m an imbecile, +or a child in arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I’m</i> not dangerous to you,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“That, sir, remains to be proven.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I like your idea of the child in arms—provided it’s my arms,” he +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Her reply was a reproving glance from her brown eyes and a shake of the head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Clephane,” Mrs. Spencer greeted, before +Harleston could say a word. She made place on the divan and drew Mrs. Clephane +down beside her. “You’re Robert Clephane’s widow, are you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Robert Clephane was, I believe, a distant cousin,” Mrs. Clephane responded. +“De Forrest + +Clephane was my husband. Did you know him, Mrs. Spencer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not. <i>Robert</i>—” with the faintest stress on the name—“was the only +Clephane I knew. A nice chap, Mrs. Clephane; though, since you’re not his +widow, I must admit that he was a bit gay—a very considerable bit indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“We heard tales of it,” Mrs. Clephane replied imperturbably. “It is an +ungracious thing, Mrs. Spencer, to scandalize the dead, but do you know +anything of his gayness from your own experience?” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston suppressed a chuckle. Mrs. Clephane would take care of herself, he +imagined. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Spencer’s foot paused in its swinging, and for an instant her eyes +narrowed; then she smiled engagingly, the smile growing quickly into a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Not of my own experience, Mrs. Clephane,” she replied confidentially, “but I +have it from those who do know, that he set a merry pace and travelled the +limit with his fair companions. It was sad, too—he was a most charming fellow. +Rumour also had it that he was none too happy in his marriage, and that +<i>his</i> Mrs. Clephane was something of the same sort. I’ve seen <i>her</i> +several + +times; she was of the type to make men’s hearts flutter.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no particular trick to make men’s hearts flutter,” said Mrs. Clephane +sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +“How about it, Mr. Harleston?” Mrs. Spencer asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No trick whatever,” he agreed, “provided she choose the proper method for the +particular man; and some men are easier than others.” +</p> + +<p> +“For instance?” Mrs. Spencer inflected. +</p> + +<p> +“No instance. I give it to you as a general proposition and without charge; +which is something unusual in these days of tips and gratuities and subsidized +graft and things equally predatory.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Spencer arose. “The mere mention of graft puts me to instant flight,” she +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“And naturally even the suggestion of a crime is equally repugnant to you,” +Mrs. Clephane observed. +</p> + +<p> +“‘As a general proposition,’” Mrs. Spencer quoted. +</p> + +<p> +“And general propositions are best proved by exceptions, <i>n’est-ce pas</i>?” +was the quick yet drawling answer. +</p> + +<p> +The two women’s eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust, Mrs. Clephane, we shall meet again and soon,” Mrs. Spencer replied, +extending her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you so much,” was Mrs. Clephane’s answer. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Spencer turned to Harleston with a perfectly entrancing smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, Guy,” she murmured.—“No, sir, not a foot; I’m going up to my +apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we will convoy you to the elevator. Come, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is only a step,” Mrs. Spencer protested. +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless,” said Mrs. Clephane, “we shall not permit you to brave alone +this Peacock Alley and its heedless crowd.” +</p> + +<p> +And putting her arm intimately through Mrs. Spencer’s she went on: with +Harleston trailing in the rear and chuckling with suppressed glee. It was not +often that Madeline Spencer met her match! +</p> + +<p> +When the car shot upward with Mrs. Spencer, Harleston gave a quiet laugh of +satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Now shall we go in to dinner?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clephane nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“The table in the corner yonder, Philippe,” Harleston said. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Mrs. Spencer?” she inquired, as soon as they were seated. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve never heard of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—nor seen her before tonight. One is not likely to forget her; she’s as +lovely as—” +</p> + +<p> +“Original sin?” Harleston supplied. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clephane smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” said she. “Diana is the one I was about to suggest.” +</p> + +<p> +“She may look the Diana,” he replied, “but she’s very far from a Diana, believe +me, very far indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite ready to believe it, Mr. Harleston.” She lowered her voice. “I have +much to tell you—and,” with a quick look at him, “also something to explain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your explanation is not in the least necessary if it has to do with anything +Mrs. Spencer said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Under the circumstances I think I should be frank with you. Mrs. Spencer said +just enough to make you suspect me; then she dropped it—and half a lie is +always more insidious than the full truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Mrs. Clephane,” he protested, “I assure you it is not necessary—” +</p> + +<p> +“Not necessary, if one is in the diplomatic profession,” she cut in. “Murder +and assassination both of men and of reputation, seem to be a portion of this +horrible business, and perfectly well recognized as a legitimate means to +effect the end desired. I’m not in it—diplomacy, I mean,—and I’m mighty +thankful I’m not. Mrs. Spencer cold as ice, crafty as the devil, beautiful as +sin, and hard as adamant, knowing her Paris and London and its scandals—I +suppose she must know them in her profession—instantly recognized me and placed +me as Robert Clephane’s wife. For I am his wife—or rather his widow. I lied to +her because I didn’t intend that she should have the gratification of seeing +her play win. She sought to distress and disconcert me, and to raise in your +mind a doubt of my motives and my story. It may be legitimate in diplomacy, but +it’s dastardly and inhuman. ‘Rumour also had it that he was none too happy in +his marriage, and that his Mrs. Clephane was something of the same sort—she was +of the type to make men’s hearts flutter.’ You see, I recall her exact words. +And what was I to do—” +</p> + +<p> +“Just what you did do. You handled the matter beautifully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you!” she smiled. “Yet she would win in the end—with almost any other +man than you. She plays for time; a very little time, possibly. I don’t know. +I’m new in this business—and can’t see far before me. Indeed, I can’t see at +all; it’s a maze of horrors. If I get out of this mess alive, I’ll promise +never to get mixed in another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not quit right now, Mrs. Clephane?” Harleston suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t quit under fire—and with my mission unaccomplished. Moreover, this +Spencer gang have ruffled my temper—they have aroused my fighting blood. I +never realized I had fighting blood in me until tonight. Mrs. Spencer’s ugly +insinuation, topping their attempted abduction of the evening, has done it. I’m +angry all through. Don’t I look angry, Mr. Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re quite justified in looking so, dear lady; as well as in being so,” +Harleston replied. “Only you don’t look it now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a sad flatterer, sir!” she smiled. “Believe me, had you seen me in the +room to which they decoyed me with a false message from + +you, you would believe that I can look it—very well look it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that was the way of it!” Harleston exclaimed “Tell me about it, Mrs. +Clephane. I was sure that you were a prisoner somewhere in this hotel; to find +you every room was being inspected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you think I was a prisoner in the midst of all this gaiety?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I was lured by a message purporting to be from you to the ninth floor +and garroted. I escaped. However, that is another story; yours first, my lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“You too!” she marvelled. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. “And now we are sitting together at dinner, looking at the crowd, +and you’re about to tell me your story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks to you for having escaped and rescued me!” Mrs. Clephane exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“The management devised the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“But <i>you</i> prompted it—you are the one I have to thank.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you insist, far be it from me to decline! It’s well worth anything I can do +to—have you look at me as you’re looking now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope I’m looking half that I feel,” she replied instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“A modest man would be more than repaid by half the look,” he returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a modest man?” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust so. At least, I am with some people.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re giving every instance of it with me, though it may be a part of the +game; even the rescue may be a part of the game. You may be playing me against +Mrs. Spencer, and taking advantage of my inexperience to accomplish your +purposes—” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think so!” he said, with a shake of his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t. And maybe that only proves my inexperience and unfitness.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he did not reply. Was <i>she</i> playing <i>him</i>? Was it a ruse +of a clever woman; or was it the evidence of sincerity and innocence? It had +the ring of candour and the appearance of truth. No one could look into those +alluring eyes and that fascinatingly beautiful face and harbour a doubt of her +absolute guilelessness. Yet was it guilelessness? He had never met +guilelessness in the diplomatic game, save as a mask for treachery + +and deceit. And yet this seemed the real thing. He wanted to believe it. In +fact, he did believe it; it was simply the habit of his experience warning him +to beware—and because it was a woman it warned him all the more.... Yet he cast +experience aside—and also the fact that she was a woman—and accepted her story +as truth. Maybe he would regret it; maybe she was playing him; maybe she was +laughing behind her mask; maybe he was all kinds of a fool—nevertheless, he +would trust her. It was— +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you have decided that I’m not a diplomat—and that you will trust me,” +she broke in. “I’m just an ordinary woman, Mr. Harleston, just a very ordinary +woman.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out his hand. She took it instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“A very extraordinary woman, you mean, dear lady,” he said gravely. “In some +ways the most extraordinary that I have ever known.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not in the line of diplomacy, I hope,” she shrugged. +</p> + +<p> +“Not the feminine line, I assure you; Madeline Spencer is typical of it, and +the top of her class—which means she is wonderfully clever, inscrutable as +fate, and without scruple or conscience. No, + +thank God, you do not belong in the class of feminine diplomats!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Mr. Harleston!” she said gently, permitting him, for an instant, to +look deep into her brown eyes. “Now, since you trust me, I want to refer +briefly to Mrs. Spencer’s insinuation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Robert Clephane was all that she said—and more. Middle-aged when he married +me, before a year was passed I had found that I was only another experience for +him; and that after a short time he had resumed his ways of—gaiety. Not caring +to be pitied, nor to be so soon a deserted wife, nor yet to admit my loss of +attraction for him, I dashed into the gay life of Paris with reckless fervour. +I know I was indiscreet. I know I fractured conventionality and was dreadfully +compromised—but I never violated the Seventh Commandment. Robert Clephane and I +were not separated—except by a locked door. +</p> + +<p> +“Then one day some two years back, dreadfully mangled, they brought him home. +An aeroplane had fallen with him—with the usual result. That moment saw the end +of my gay life. I passed it up as completely as though it had never been. + +The reason for it was gone. After a very short period of mourning, I took up +the quietness of a respectable widow, who wished only to forget that she ever +was married.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can understand exactly,” said Harleston. “You shall never hear a word from +me to remind you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never heard anything to remind me of the past until this alluring +beauty’s insinuations of a moment ago. That is why it hit me so hard, Mr. +Harleston. And why did she do it? Is she jealous of you, or of me, or what?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not jealous of me!” he laughed. “I know her history; it’s something of a +history, too.... Sometime I’ll tell you all about it; it’s an interesting tale. +Is it possible you’ve never heard in Paris of Madeline Spencer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor of the Duchess of Lotzen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Great Heavens!” she cried. “Is she the Duchess of Lotzen?” +</p> + +<p> +“The same,” Harleston nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“H-u-m! I can understand now a little of her—No wonder I felt my helplessness +before her polished poise!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should such an accomplished—diplomat want to injure me with you?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“She was not seeking to injure you in the sense that you imply,” he returned. +“Her purpose was to put you in the same class as herself, so that I should +trust you no more than I do her; to make you appear an emissary of France, in +its secret service, playing the game of ignorance and inexperience for its +present purpose. For you, as a personality she does not care a fig. To her you +are but one of the pieces, to be moved or threatened as her purpose dictates. +In the diplomatic game, my lady, we know only one side—all other sides are the +enemy; and nothing, not even a woman’s reputation, is permitted to stand for an +instant in the way of attaining our end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore a good woman—or one who would forget the past—has no earthly +business to become involved in the game,” Mrs. Clephane returned. “I shall get +out of it the instant this matter of the letter is completed—and stay out +thereafter. Even friendship won’t lure me to it. Never again, Mr. Harleston, +never again for mine!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would let it end right now,” he urged. +</p> + +<p> +“That wouldn’t be the part of a good sport, nor would it be just to Madame +Durrand. She trusts me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then inform the French Ambassador of all the facts and circumstances and +retire from the game,” he advised. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I inform him over the telephone?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You would never get the Ambassador on the telephone, unless you were known to +some one of the staff who could vouch for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know anyone on the staff, but Mrs. Durrand has likely communicated +with the Embassy.” +</p> + +<p> +“If she has, she had given them a minute description of you, yet that can not +be used to identify you over the telephone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hesitate to go to the Embassy without the letter,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you hesitate?” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I—don’t want to admit defeat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which of itself will serve to substantiate your story. One skilled in the game +would have lost + +no time in informing the Embassy of the loss of the letter. He would have +realized that, next to the letter itself, the news of its seizure was the best +thing he could deliver—also, it was his <i>duty</i> to advise the Embassy at +the quickest possible moment. You see, dear lady, personal pride and pique play +no part in this game. They are not even considered; it’s the execution of the +mission that’s the one important thing; all else is made to bend to that single +end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I should go to the French Embassy tonight with my story?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You should have gone this morning—the instant you were returned to the hotel! +Now, unless Madame Durrand had written about you, it’s a pretty good gamble +that the Spencer crowd has forestalled you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forestalled me! What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Spencer admitted to me that your release was someone’s blunder. The +normal thing was to hold you prisoner and so prevent you from communicating +with the Ambassador until they had obtained the letter or defeated its purpose. +That was not done; but Spencer, you may assume, has attempted to rectify their +blunder—possibly + +by impersonating you, and giving the Marquis d’Hausonville some tale that will +fall in with her plans and gain time for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impersonating me!” Mrs. Clephane exclaimed incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. She knows all the material circumstance—witness the telephone call that +inveigled you into the drive up the Avenue, <i>et cetera</i>—and she’ll take +the chance that you are not known to the Marquis nor any of the staff, or even +the chance that Madame Durrand has not yet informed them. Indeed she may have +taken precautions against her informing them. A few bribes to the hospital +attendants, carefully distributed, would be sufficient. It’s not everyone who +could, or would venture to, pull off the coup, but with Spencer the very daring +of a thing adds to its pleasure and its zest.” +</p> + +<p> +“You amaze me!” Mrs. Clephane replied. “I thought also that diplomacy was the +gentlest-mannered profession in the world—and the most dignified.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is—on the surface. Fine residences, splendid establishments, brilliant +uniforms, much bowing and many genuflections, plenty of parade and + +glitter—everything for show. Under the surface: a supreme contempt for any code +of honour, and a ruthlessness of purpose simply appalling—yet, withal, dignity, +strained at times, but dignity none-the-less.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it isn’t even a respectable calling!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s eminently respectable to intimidate and to lie for one’s country—and to +stoop to any means to attain an end.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you enjoy it!” she marvelled. +</p> + +<p> +“I do. It’s fascinating—and I leave the disagreeable portion to others, when it +has to do with those not of the profession.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when it has to do with those of the profession?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it’s all in the game, and everything goes to win—because we all know what +to expect and what to guard against. No one believes or trusts the enemy; and, +as I said, everyone is the enemy but those who are arrayed with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“So instead of being the finest profession in the world—and the most +aristocratic,” Mrs. Clephane reflected, “a diplomat is, in truth, simply a +false-pretence artist of an especially refined and dangerous + +type, who deals with the affairs of nations instead of the affairs of an +individual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty much,” he admitted. “Diplomacy is all bluff, bluster, buncombe, and +bullying; the degrees of refinement of the aforesaid bluff, <i>et cetera</i>, +depending on the occasions, and the particular parties involved in the +particular business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again I’m well content to be simply an ordinary woman, whose chief delight and +occupation is clothes and the wearing of clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a success at your occupation,” Harleston replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Some there are who would not agree with you,” she replied. “However, we are +straying from the question before us, which is: what shall I do about informing +the Marquis d’Hausonville? Will you go with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“My going with you would only complicate matters for you. The Marquis would +instantly want to know what such a move on my part meant. I’m known to be in +the secret service of the United States, you must remember. Furthermore your +tale will accuse me of the taking of the letter—and you see the merry mess +which follows. I cannot return the letter—it’s in possession + +of the State Department. I’m far transgressing my duty by disclosing anything +as to the letter. Indeed, I’m liable to be disciplined most drastically, even +imprisoned, should it chance that the United States was involved.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve told me nothing more than you’ve already told the Spencer crowd,” she +objected. +</p> + +<p> +“The difference is that the Spencer crowd are trying to obtain something to +which they haven’t the least right—and I’m playing the game against them. You +see my peculiar position, Mrs. Clephane. I’ve told you what I shouldn’t, +because—well, because I’m sure that you will not use it to my disadvantage.” +</p> + +<p> +She traced the figures on her gown with the tips of her fingers, and for awhile +was silent— +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all so involved,” she reflected; “such wheels within wheels, I am +completely mystified. I’m lost in the maze. I don’t know whom to believe nor +whom to trust—except,” and suddenly she smiled at him confidently, “that I +trust you.” +</p> + +<p> +He held her eyes with his own as he leaned forward across the table and +answered very quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“I shall try, dear lady, to be worthy.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” she laughed, “may I tell you what happened to me when you were +called to the telephone?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may talk to me forever,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“And what as to the French Ambassador?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Bother the Marquis—he may wait until morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, then, is beyond the forever?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow may take care of itself!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be sacrilegious, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be anything you wish,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Then be a good listener while I tell my tale. It was this wise, Mr. Harleston. +Immediately after you were called away, indeed you were scarcely out of the +room, a page brought a verbal message from the telephone operator that my maid +had been found unconscious in the corridor of the eighth floor, and carried +into 821. I hurried to the elevator. As I entered the door of 821, I was seized +from behind and a handkerchief bound over my mouth and eyes. I then was tied in +a chair, and a man’s voice said that no further harm would come to me if I +remained quiet until morning. I did not see the faces of my assailants; + +there were two at least, possibly three, and one I think was a woman. My +feelings and thoughts until the electrician released me may be imagined. It +seemed days and days—and was somewhat uncomfortable while it lasted. When +released I hurried down to look for you—or to write you a note of explanation +if I couldn’t find you. I’m sort of becoming accustomed to being abducted and +kindred innocent amusements. I suppose the only reason they didn’t kill me is +that they can’t kill me more than once; and to kill me now would be too early +in the game.” +</p> + +<p> +“Killing is rarely done in diplomacy,” observed Harleston, “except in large +numbers; when it ceases to be diplomacy and becomes war. In fact, only bunglers +resort to killing; and if the killing be known it ends one’s career in the +service. To have to kill to gain an end is conclusive evidence of incompetency. +I mean, of course, among reputable nations. There are some thugs among the +lesser Powers, just as there are thugs among the <i>’oi polloi</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Mrs. Spencer is an accomplished—diplomat,” Mrs. Clephane remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“She is at the top of the profession,—and + +as a directing force she is without a superior.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very generous, Mr. Harleston!” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe in giving the devil his dues. Indeed, in handling some affairs, she +is in a class by herself. Her beauty and finesse and alluringness make her +simply irresistible. It’s a cold and stony heart that she can’t get inside of +and use.” +</p> + +<p> +“A man’s heart, you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. A man is in control of such affairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Mrs. Spencer’s presence here indicates that this letter matter is of the +first importance to Germany.” +</p> + +<p> +“It indicates that her business is of the first importance to Germany; the +letter may simply be incidental to that business, in that its delivery to the +French Ambassador will embarrass or complicate that business. The latter is +likely the fact.” +</p> + +<p> +“It grows more involved every minute,” Mrs. Clephane sighed. “It’s useless to +try to make me comprehend. I want to hear what happened to you; such simple +concrete doings are more adapted to my unsophisticated mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I returned to the telephone, you were gone,” he said; “I waited awhile, +then cruised through the rooms, then went back to our place and waited again. +Finally I went in to dinner, leaving word to be notified the moment you +returned. I was at my soup when a note was brought to me saying that you had +just seen someone whom you wished to avoid, and asking me to dine with you in +your apartment—and that you would explain your disappearance. I went up at once +to No. 972; and there encountered pretty much similar treatment to yours,”—and +he detailed the episode, down to the time she reappeared in the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +She had heard him through without an interruption; at the end she said simply: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve absolutely no business in this affair, Mr. Harleston. When such things +can happen in this hotel, in the very centre of the National Capital and among +the throngs of diners and guests, it behooves an ordinary woman to seek safety +in a hospital or a prison. It seems that the greater the prominence of the +place, the greater the danger and the less liability to arrest.” +</p> + +<p> +“In diplomacy!” he acquiesced. +</p> + +<p> +“Then again, I say, Heaven save me from meddling in diplomacy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen, my lady! Moreover,” he added, as they arose and passed into the +corridor, “I want you as you are.” +</p> + +<p> +Once again their eyes met—she coloured and looked away. +</p> + +<p> +“Play the game, Mr. Harleston,” she reminded, “play the game! And thank you for +a delicious dinner and a charming evening—and don’t forget you’ve an +appointment at ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had forgotten!” he laughed, drawing out his watch. +</p> + +<p> +It was ten minutes of the hour. +</p> + +<p> +“Take me to the F Street elevator and then hurry on,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“And you will do nothing—and go nowhere until tomorrow?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll promise to remain here until—” +</p> + +<p> +“I come for you in the morning?” he broke in. +</p> + +<p> +“If I’m not abducted in the interval, I’ll wait,” and stepped into the car. +“Good-night, Mr. Harleston!” she smiled—and the car shot upward. +</p> + +<p> +“Hum!” muttered Harleston as he turned for his + +coat and hat. “I may be a fool, but I’ll risk it—and I think I’m <i>not</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +It was but a step to Headquarters and he walked. +</p> + +<p> +“The Superintendent,” he said to the sergeant on duty in the outer office. +</p> + +<p> +“The Chief has gone home, Mr. Harleston,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, two hours ago; he’ll not be back tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Get him on the telephone,” Harleston directed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, Mr. Harleston.... Here he is, sir—you can use the ’phone in the +private office.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! Is that you, Ranleigh? Yes, I recognized the voice. Did you telephone +me at the Chateau about six-thirty?... You didn’t?... You were on your way home +at that hour.... Yes, exactly; it was a plant.... Do you know Crenshaw escaped +from my apartment.... Yes, I saw him in the Chateau this evening.... What?... +Yes, better look up Whiteside at once.... Yes, in the Collingwood.... Very +good; I’ll meet you there.... All right, I’ll tell the sergeant.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>XII—Carpenter</h2> + +<p> +Harleston took a taxi to the Collingwood, arriving just as Ranleigh came up, +and the two men went in together. +</p> + +<p> +Whiteside was there; gagged and bound to the same chair that had held Crenshaw. +</p> + +<p> +The rooms were in confusion. Everything had been gone through; clothes were +scattered over the floor, papers were strewn about, drawers stood open. +</p> + +<p> +They released Whiteside, and presently he was able to talk. +</p> + +<p> +“When did it happen?” Ranleigh asked. +</p> + +<p> +“About five o’clock this afternoon, sir,” Whiteside replied, in a most +apologetic tone. He knew there was no sympathy and no excuse for the detective +who let his prisoner escape. “The bell rang. I went to the door—and was shot +senseless by a chemical revolver. When I came to, I had exchanged places with +the prisoner, and + +he and another man were just departing. ‘My compliments to Mr. Harleston when +he returns,’ + +said Crenshaw, as he went out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Describe the other man!” said Ranleigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Medium sized, slender, dark hair and eyes, good features, looked like a +gentleman, wore a blue sack-suit, black silk tie, and stiff straw hat.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Sparrow,” Harleston remarked. “Did they take anything with them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing whatever that I saw, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re excused until morning,” said the Chief curtly. +</p> + +<p> +The detective saluted and went out. +</p> + +<p> +“I am exceedingly sorry I overlooked Whiteside when I escaped from Crenshaw’s +garrote in the Chateau,” Harleston remarked. “The simple fact is, I clean +forgot him until I was talking with you on the telephone.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just as well, Mr. Harleston,” Ranleigh replied. “It served him right. He +will be fortunate if his want of precaution doesn’t cost him his job.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” Harleston objected. “Whiteside has been punished. I intercede for +him. Let him continue in his job, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, sir,” Ranleigh acquiesced. “But he’ll be informed that he owes his +retention entirely to you.” +</p> + +<p> +When Ranleigh departed, after hearing a detailed account of the evening’s +doings at the hotel, Harleston sat for a little while thinking; finally he drew +over a pad and made a list of things that required explanation, or seemed to +require explanation, at the present stage of the matter: +</p> + +<p> +“(1) The translation of the cipher letter. This should explain Madeline +Spencer’s connection with the affair. +</p> + +<p> +“(2) Did the following persons, incidents, or circumstances have any bearing on +the affair. +</p> + +<p> +“(a) The lone and handsome woman, who left the Collingwood at three that +morning. +</p> + +<p> +“(b) The note ‘à l’aube du jour’ (signed) ‘M,’ found in Crenshaw’s pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“(c) The telephone call of the Chartrand apartment at 12:52 A.M., by a man who +said that he was ‘here’ and to meet him at 10 A.M. +</p> + +<p> +“(d) The persons in the Chartrand apartment the previous night. +</p> + +<p> +“(e) After 1 P.M. no one entered the Collingwood + +by the usual way, and no one telephoned; how, therefore, did anyone in the +Collingwood know of the incident of the cab, and of my connection with it. +</p> + +<p> +“(f) Who is Mrs. Winton of the Burlingame apartments? +</p> + +<p> +“(g) Why was she in Peacock Alley, wearing black and red roses, at five o’clock +this afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston read over the list, folded it, and put it in his pocket-book; then he +went to bed. There was plenty for him to seek, in regard to the affair of the +cab of the sleeping horse, but nothing more for the Spencer gang to inspect in +his apartment. Crenshaw had made a thorough job of his investigation. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning he took out the list and went over it again. They all were +dependent on the translation of the letter; if it did not show that the United +States was concerned in the matter, the rest became merely of academic +interest—and Harleston had little inclination and no time for things academic. +The difficulty was, that until the key to the cipher was found nothing was +academic which appeared to have any bearing on the affair. +</p> + +<p> +So he sent for the manager of the Collingwood, and asked as to the Chartrands. +The manager’s information, which was definite if not extensive, was to the +effect that the Chartrands were people of means from Denver, with excellent +social position there, and with connections in Washington. They had been +tenants of the Collingwood less than a week, having sublet the Dryand +apartment. It was a large apartment. Mr. Chartrand was possibly forty-five, his +wife thirty-eight or forty and exceedingly good-looking. There was, of course, +no record kept of their visitors, nor did the house know who they were +entertaining the previous evening. He was entirely sure, however, that the +Chartrands were above suspicion. Mrs. Chartrand was a blonde, petite and +slender; Chartrand was tall and rather stout, with red hair, and a scar across +his forehead. As for the tall, slender woman who left the Collingwood at three +in the morning, he did not recognize her from the description; he would, +however, investigate at once. +</p> + +<p> +That it might be Madeline Spencer, now that her presence in Washington was +declared, Harleston thought possible. “Slender, twenty-eight, walks + +as though the ground were hers,” the telephone operator had said. He would get +the photograph from Carpenter and let Miss Williams see it. If she recognized +it as Spencer, much would be explained. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped a moment at the Club, then went on to the State Department. As he +turned the corner near the Secretary’s private elevator, the Secretary himself +was on the point of embarking and he waited. +</p> + +<p> +“You want to see me?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Just a moment, Mr. Secretary, since you’re here,” Harleston responded. “I came +particularly to see Carpenter. There has been a plenty doing in that matter, +but nothing worthy of report to you—except one thing. Madeline Spencer is in +town.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil she is!” exclaimed the Secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“And as beautiful, as fascinating, as sinuous, and as young as ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“She must be a vision.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is—and an extraordinarily dangerous vision.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only to you impressible chaps!” the Secretary confided. “She is not dangerous +to me, be she + +ever so beautiful, and fascinating, and sinuous, and young. When will you +present me?” +</p> + +<p> +“When do you suggest?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, at four?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I can get the lady, certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Later she’ll get me, you think!” the Secretary laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“If she is so minded she’ll get you, I have not the least doubt,” Harleston +shrugged. +</p> + +<p> +“Then here is where you have your doubt resolved into moonshine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; it won’t be the first time I’ve had the pleasure of seeing +moonshine. I’ll try to make the appointment for tomorrow at four.” +</p> + +<p> +“Self-opinionated old mountebank,” Harleston thought, as he went down the +corridor to Carpenter’s office. “I shall enjoy watching Spencer make all kinds +of an ass of him. ‘You impressible chaps!—not dangerous to me!’ Oh, Lord, the +patronizing bumptiousness of the man!... Have you anything for me, Carpenter?” +he asked, as he entered the latter’s office. +</p> + +<p> +The Fifth Assistant was sitting with his feet on his desk, a cigar in his +mouth, his gaze fixed on vacancy. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn your old cipher, Harleston!” he remarked, coming out of his abstraction. +“It’s bothered me more than anything I’ve tackled for years. I can’t make head +nor tail of it. Its very simplicity—or seeming simplicity—is what’s +tantalizing. It’s in French. Of so much I feel sure, though I’ve little more +than intuition to back it. As you know, this Vigenèrie, or Blocked-Out Square, +cipher is particularly difficult. I’ve tried every word and phrase that’s ever +been used or discovered. We have a complete record of them. None fit this case. +Can you give me anything additional that will be suggestive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s what I’ve brought,” Harleston replied—and related, so far as they +seemed pertinent, the incidents of the previous afternoon and evening. +</p> + +<p> +“A French message in an English envelope, inclosing an unmounted photograph of +Madeline Spencer, a well-known German Secret Agent in Paris,” Carpenter +remarked slowly; “and the letter is borne by Madame Durrand to the French +Ambassador. You see, my intuition was right? the letter is in French; and as it +is of French authorship the key-word is French. That narrows very materially +our search. Find the key-word to + +the Vigenèrie cipher of the French Diplomatic Service and we shall have the +translation.” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t that word?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got quantities of keys to French ciphers, and numerous ones to the +Blocked-Out Square, but they won’t translate this letter.” He took up a small +book and opened it at a mark. “Here are samples of the latter: +<i>ecclesiastiques, coeur de roche, a deau eaux, fourreau, chateau d’eau</i>, +and so on. But, alas, none of them fits; the French Government has a new key. +Indeed, she changes it every month or oftener; sometimes she changes it just +for a single letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we must apply ourselves to obtaining the French key-word,” Harleston +remarked. “Can you—do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe we can pilfer it and maybe we can’t. At least we can make a brisk +attempt. I will give orders at once. In the meantime, if you’ll keep me advised +of what happens, we may be able to piece your and my information together and +make a word.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do it!” Harleston replied and started toward the door. Half-way across +the room he suddenly whirled around. “Lord, Carpenter. + +what an imbecile I am!” he exclaimed. “I fancy I’ve had the key-word all the +while and never realized it.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are too many petticoats in this case,” Carpenter shrugged. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind the petticoats!” Harleston laughed. “Get out the letter and try +this phrase on it: <i>à l’aube du jour</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Without a word of comment, Carpenter set down the cipher message, letter by +letter, and wrote over it <i>à l’aube du jour</i>. Then he took up a printed +Blocked-Out Square and with incredible swiftness began to write the +translation. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get this ‘at the break of day,’ Harleston?” he asked as he +wrote. +</p> + +<p> +“Found it in Crenshaw’s pocket-book when he returned to hold me up,” Harleston +replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Only this isolated phrase?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—and signed with the single initial ‘M.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Hump!” Carpenter commented. “Mrs. Spencer’s name, I believe you said, is +Madeline. I tell you there are too many women in this affair.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he threw down the pen. “What’s the use in going on with it. If you can +supply a key + +to this key we may arrive. Such an array of unpronounceables may be Russian, it +assuredly isn’t French or English. Look at it!” and he handed the translation +to Harleston, who read: +</p> + +<p> +AGELUMTONZUCLPMUHRHUNBARGPUH +</p> + +<p> +PJICLWYIAOIWFPHLUOZFRXUFJWH +</p> + +<p> +WASNVDPS +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” said Harleston. “I pass. Did you ever see so many consonants. I +reckon my key-word isn’t the key.” +</p> + +<p> +“Try being held up again,” Carpenter advised; “you may succeed the second time. +If Madeline Spencer is the holdee, no telling what you’d find.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d find nothing,” Harleston rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d be holding a particularly lovely and attractive bit of skirts!” +Carpenter smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to hold that at present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even—Mrs. Clephane?” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston raised his eyebrows slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you know about Mrs. Clephane?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That she’s even lovelier and more attractive than Mrs. Spencer.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve seen her—you know her?” +</p> + +<p> +“You told me,” replied Carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you!—I never referred to Mrs. Clephane’s appearance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly: your careful reticence told me more than if you had used tons of +words. I’m a reader of secret ciphers; you don’t imagine a mere individual +presents much of a problem. I tell you there are too many petticoats mixed up +in this affair of the cab of the sleeping horse,” Carpenter repeated. “Be +careful, Harleston. Women are a menace—they spoil about everything they touch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marriage in particular?” Harleston inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly!” +</p> + +<p> +“A bachelor’s wisdom!” Harleston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you a bachelor?” Carpenter shrugged. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I never—” +</p> + +<p> +“—found the woman; or have been adroit enough to avoid her wiles,” Carpenter +cut in. “And whichever it is, you’ve shown your wisdom. Don’t spoil it now, +Harleston, don’t spoil it now. Millionaires and day-labourers are the only +classes that have any business to marry; the rest of us chaps either can’t +afford the luxury, or are + +not quite poor enough to be forced to marry in order to get a servant.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would be popular with the suffragettes,” Harleston remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Worldly wisdom of any sort is never popular with those against whom it warns.” +</p> + +<p> +“An aphorism!” Harleston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Aphorism be damned; it’s just plain horse sense. Don’t do it, old man, don’t +do it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t do what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t fall in love with Mrs. Clephane.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” Harleston exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord all you want, you’re on the verge and preparing to leap in—and you +know it. Let some other man be the life-saver, Harleston. You’re much too fine +a chap to waste yourself in foolishness.” +</p> + +<p> +“And all this,” Harleston expostulated with mock solemnity, “because I +neglected to include a description of Mrs. Clephane.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neglected with deliberation. And with you that is more significant than if you +had detailed most minutely her manifold attractions. Look here, Harleston, do +you want this translation for yourself or for Mrs. Clephane?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want the translation because the Secretary of State wants it,” Harleston +replied quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t become chilly,” Carpenter returned good-naturedly. “If you permit, +I’ll tell you something about a Mrs. Clephane—queer name Clephane, and rather +unusual—whom I used to see in Paris,” glancing languidly at Harleston, “several +years ago. Want to hear it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure!” said Harleston. “Drive on and keep driving. You won’t drive over me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t a great deal,” Carpenter went on, slowly tearing the consonant +collection into bits, “and perchance it wasn’t your Mrs. Clephane; but her +name, and her beauty and charm, and Paris, and some other inferences I drew, +led me to suspect that—” He completed the sentence by a wave of his hand. “She +was Robert Clephane’s wife—yes, I see in your face that she is your Mrs. +Clephane—and he led her a merry life, though if rumour lied not she kept up +with the pace he set. I saw her frequently and she was as—well you have not +overdrawn the ‘reticence picture.’ Shall I continue?” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston smiled and nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless you already know the tale,” Carpenter remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I know only what Mrs. Clephane has told me,” Harleston replied. +</p> + +<p> +The Fifth Assistant Secretary picked up a ruler and sighted carefully along the +edge. +</p> + +<p> +“I seem to be in wrong, old man,” he said. “Please forget that I ever said it +or anything—you understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow, don’t be an ass!” Harleston laughed. “I’m not sensitive about +the lady; I never saw her until last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite long enough for a man disposed to make a fool of himself—if the lady is +a beauty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m disposed to hear more from you, if you care to tell me,” Harleston +replied. “However, jesting aside, Carpenter, what do you know? Mrs. Clephane is +something of a puzzle to me, but I have concluded to accept her story; yet I’m +always open to conviction, and if I’m wrong now’s the time to enlighten me—the +State comes first, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you viewing Mrs. Clephane simply as a circumstance in the affair of the +cipher letter?” Carpenter asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly!” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll give you what I heard. It’s not much, and it may be false; it’s for +you to judge, in the light of all that you know concerning her, whether or not +it affects her credibility. Mrs. Clephane went with a notoriously fast set in +Paris, and her reputation was somewhat cloudy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know of that,” returned Harleston, “also that Clephane was a roué, and +generally an exceedingly rotten lot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely—and her conduct as to him may be quite justifiable; yet nevertheless +it weakens her credibility; puts her story as to the letter under suspicion. +And there is one thing more: Clephane, you know, was killed in an aeroplane +smash. Did Mrs. Clephane tell you anything as to it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Merely referred to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at a dinner the night before, he effervesced that his wife had +repeatedly tried to poison him, and had told him only that evening that she +hoped the flight of the morrow would be his last, and that he would fall so far +it would be useless to dig for his remains. At the aviation field the following +day he appeared queer, and his friends urged him not to try the flight; but he +waved them aside, with the remark that maybe Mrs. + +Clephane had drugged him and at last would win out. His fall came a trifle +later. Suspicion followed, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know all this?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“From a man who was one of his intimates, and has reformed; and from having +myself been in the aviation field the day of the tragedy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You heard Clephane’s remark?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hum!” said Harleston slowly. “A man of Clephane’s habits will accuse anyone of +anything at certain times. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t blame Mrs. Clephane, +nor any other woman, for chucking such a husband out of the boat. It’s contrary +to the Acts of Assembly in such cases made and provided, but it’s natural +justice and amply justifiable.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t credit it?” Carpenter asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t. Moreover, didn’t she change instantly her course of life and +disappear from the gay world?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe that is so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And hasn’t she remained disappeared?” +</p> + +<p> +Carpenter nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’m inclined to give her the benefit of the + +doubt. I’ll trust her, until I’ve seen something to warrant distrust—bearing in +mind, however, what you have just told me, and the possibility of my being +mistaken. I reckon I can veer quickly enough if—” +</p> + +<p> +The telephone rang. Carpenter picked up the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mr. Harleston is here,” he replied, passing the receiver across. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Harleston. “Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Clephane.... Very nice, +indeed.... Be delighted!... In ten minutes, I’ll be there. Good-bye.” He pushed +back the instrument. “Mrs. Clephane has telephoned that she must see me at +once. Meanwhile—the key-word, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Carpenter drummed on the table, and frowned at the door that had closed behind +Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“The man’s bewitched,” he muttered. “However I threw a slight scare into him, +and maybe it will make him pause; he is not quite devoid of sense. Bah! All +women are vampires.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>XIII—The Marquis</h2> + +<p> +“Mrs. Clephane will be right down, Mr. Harleston,” said the telephone operator. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later the elevator flashed into sight, and Mrs. Clephane stepped out +and came forward with the languorously lithe step, perfectly in keeping with +her slender figure. She wore a dark blue street suit, and under her small hat +her glorious hair flamed like an incandescent aureole. She greeted Harleston +with an intimate little nod and smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re good to come!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“To myself, I think I’m more than good,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, sir!” she smiled. “No more compliments between us, if we’re to be +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re to be <i>friends</i>,” he returned. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ergo</i>,” she replied. “Sit down just a minute, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll sit down for a month, if you’re—” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ergo! Ergo!</i>” she reminded him. +</p> + +<p> +“I had not gotten used to the unusual restriction” he exclaimed. “You’re the +first woman ever I met or heard of who dislikes compliments.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t dislike compliments, Mr. Harleston; but compliments, it seems, are +given in diplomacy for a purpose; and as I don’t understand anything of +diplomacy we would better cut them out—until we have finished with diplomacy. +Then you may offer as many as you like, and I’ll believe them or not as I’m +minded.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have it as you wish!” he smiled, looking into the brown eyes with frank +admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“Compliments may be conveyed by looks as well as by words,” she reproved. +</p> + +<p> +“But of the feeling that prompts the look you can be in no doubt. Moreover, a +look is silent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense,” said she. “Besides, I want to ask you a favour. You see, I’m +prepared to go out—and I want you to go with me. Will you do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will have to be mightily against my conscience to make me refuse +<i>you</i>,” Harleston replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you recognize a conscience,” she remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I refer to my diplomatic conscience.” +</p> + +<p> +“And a diplomatic conscience is a minus quantity,” she observed. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it you would of me, dear lady?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I would that you should go with me to the French Ambassador, and help me to +explain the—now don’t say you won’t, Mr. Harleston—” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Mrs. Clephane, it is—” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“It is <i>not</i> impossible!” she declared. “Why won’t you do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“For your sake as well as for my own,” he explained. “America and France are +not working together in this matter, and for me to accompany you would result +simply in your being obliged to explain <i>me</i> as well as the letter, +besides leading to endless complications and countless suspicions. Didn’t I +expound this last evening?” +</p> + +<p> +“You did—also much more; but I’ve thought over it almost the whole night, and I +simply must get this miserable letter off my mind. Perhaps Mrs. Spencer has +forestalled me with the Ambassador and has given him such a tale as will insure + +my being shown the door; nevertheless I’ll risk it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you get in communication with your friend Madame Durrand,” Harleston +suggested “and have her, if she hasn’t done so already, identify you to the +Marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall, if the Marquis is sceptical. I’ll admit that I’m pitiably foolish, +but I don’t want Mrs. Durrand to know how I’ve bungled her matter until the +bungle is corrected.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can quite understand,” said Harleston gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know you are right,” she murmured, “yet I’m afraid to go alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take some other friend with you; some well-known man who can vouch for your +identity.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know no one in Washington except the friends at the Shoreham, and they are +not residents here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you acquainted with any prominent woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“No! I’ve lived in Europe for years—and while I have met over there women from +Washington it’s been only casually. They won’t recollect me, any more than I +would them, for purposes of vouchment or identification.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will. It is the right thing to do. Yesterday I was thinking that you had the +letter and could return it to me. I waited. Today I can appreciate your reason +for withholding it—likewise the necessity for me to go to the Ambassador with +my story. And I shall tell him the <i>whole</i> story; he may believe it or not +as he is inclined. I’m only a volunteer in this affair, and I’ve decided that +for me the course of discretion and frank honesty is much wiser than silently +fighting back. Furthermore, it does not estop me from fighting the Spencer +gang.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have made a wise decision,” Harleston commented. “Tell the Ambassador, and +be quit of the affair—and don’t fight the Spencer gang, Mrs. Clephane; it is +not worth while.” +</p> + +<p> +She arose, and he went with her down the corridor and up the steps to the +entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“Every action is suspected and distrusted in diplomacy,” he said, “therefore I +may not accompany you. Someone would be sure to see us and report to the +Embassy that I had brought you—the natural effect of which would be to make the +Marquis disbelieve your tale. For you see, + +until we have translated the letter, we cannot assume that America is not +concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will not think ill of me for disclosing your part in the affair?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite the contrary,” he smiled. “Moreover, it is the course for you to pursue; +to hold back a single thing as to me will result only in distrust. Indeed, +implicating me will help substantiate your story.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very good and very thoughtful,” she murmured—and once more suffered him +to look deep into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very willing for you to think me both,” he replied. “Now I’m going to +call a taxi at the Fourteenth Street exit, and follow yours up Sixteenth Street +until I see you at the French Embassy. Tell your chauffeur to drive down to +Twelfth Street, up to H and then out to Sixteenth. My taxi will be loitering on +Sixteenth and will pick up yours as it passes and follow it to the Embassy. +Once there you’re out of danger of the Spencer gang. And let me impress you +with this fact: tell the story to someone of the staff. If you fail to get to +the Ambassador, get a Secretary or an Attaché.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try to find someone who will listen!” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“And I rather fancy you will be successful,” he smiled. “It would be a most +unusual sort of man who won’t both listen and look.” +</p> + +<p> +“Careful, Mr. Harleston!” she reminded. +</p> + +<p> +He put her in the taxi; bowed and turned back into the hotel—wondering why he +had ever fancied Madeline Spencer. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clephane gave her orders to the chauffeur, ending with the injunction to +drive slowly. +</p> + +<p> +As they swung into Sixteenth Street, a taxi standing before St. John’s +Episcopal Church followed them; and Mrs. Clephane recognized Harleston as its +occupant. +</p> + +<p> +At the French Embassy she descended and rang the bell, and was instantly +admitted by a liveried footman. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to see his Excellency the Ambassador!” she said, speaking in French. +</p> + +<p> +The flunky took her card and bowed her into a small reception room. +</p> + +<p> +After a moment or so a dapper young man entered, her card in his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Messes Cleephane?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Mrs. Clephane,” she replied in French. “I wish to see his Excellency the +Ambassador on a most important matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have an appointment with his Excellency?” he asked, this time in French. +</p> + +<p> +“You are—” she inflected. +</p> + +<p> +“His secretary, madame,” the young man bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not an appointment,” she replied, “but I come from Madame Durrand +who was the bearer of a cipher letter from the Foreign Minister. Madame Durrand +was injured as she was about to take train in New York, and gave me the letter +to deliver.” +</p> + +<p> +The secretary looked at her blandly and smiled faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“You have the letter with you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Again, no,” she replied. “It is to explain its loss, and to warn the +Ambassador that I am here.” +</p> + +<p> +“His Excellency is exceedingly busy—will you not relate the circumstances to +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“My instructions from Madame Durrand are most specific that I am to deal only +with his Excellency,” Mrs. Clephane explained—with such a dazzling smile that +the secretary’s eyes fairly + +popped. “Won’t you please tell him I’m here, and that I have a luncheon +engagement at one o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +The secretary hesitated. Again the smile smote him full in the face—and he +hesitated no longer. +</p> + +<p> +“Come with me, Madame Clephane,” he replied “His Excellency is occupied at +present, but I’ll deliver your message.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more the smile—as opening the door for her he bowed her into an inner +office, and carefully placed a chair for her. +</p> + +<p> +“A moment, madame,” he whispered, disappearing through an adjoining doorway. +</p> + +<p> +Whereat Mrs. Clephane sighed with amused complacency, and waited. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the door opened and the secretary appeared. “His Excellency will +receive you, Madame Clephane,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you—oh, so much!” she whispered as she passed him—and the look that +went with the words cleared all her scores—and almost finished him. +</p> + +<p> +So much for a smile—when a beautiful woman smiles, and smiles in just the right +way, and especially when the man smiled on is a Frenchman. +</p> + +<p> +The Ambassador was standing by a large, + +flat-topped desk in the centre of the room, his back was to the light, which +was generously given in all its effulgence to his visitors. He was a small man +and slight of build, intensely nervous, with well-cut features, gray hair—what +there was of it—and a tiny black moustache curled up at the ends but not waxed. +</p> + +<p> +He came briskly forward and extended his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Madame Clephane,” he said in French, leading her to a chair, “how can +I serve you?” +</p> + +<p> +“By listening to my story, your Excellency, and believing it,” Mrs. Clephane +answered,—“and at the end not being too severe on me for my misfortune and +ignorance.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will not be difficult,” he bowed, with a frank look of admiration. “You +come from Madame Durrand, I believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—you know Madame Durrand?” +</p> + +<p> +The Marquis nodded. “I have met her several times.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad!” said she. “It may help me to prove my case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame is her own proof,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +For which answer he drew such a smile from + +Edith Clephane that in comparison the secretary’s smile was simply as nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency overwhelms me,” she replied. “I’m positively trembling with +apprehension lest I fail to—” she dropped into English—“make good.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed lightly. “You will make good!” he replied, also in English, “Pray +proceed.” +</p> + +<p> +And Mrs. Clephane told him the whole story, from the time she met Madame +Durrand on the steamer to the present moment—omitting only the immaterial +personal portions occurring between Harleston and herself, and the fact that +his taxi had escorted hers until she was at the Embassy. +</p> + +<p> +Her narrative was punctuated throughout by the Marquis’s constant exclamations +of wonder or interest; but further than exclaiming, in the nervous French way, +he made no interruption. +</p> + +<p> +And on the whole, she told her story well; at first she was a little nervous, +which made her somewhat at a loss for words; yet that soon passed, and her tale +flowed along with delightful ease. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you have been a wonderfully gracious listener, your Excellency,” she +ended, “ask whatever + +questions you wish in regard to the matter; I shall be only too glad to answer +if I am able.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame’s narrative has been most detailed and most satisfactory,” the Marquis +answered. “But let me ask you to explain, if you can, why Madame Durrand has +not made a written report of this matter to the Embassy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no idea—unless she is ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Broken bones do not usually prevent one from writing, or dictating, a letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>is</i> peculiar!” Mrs. Clephane admitted. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the name of the hospital?” the Marquis asked. +</p> + +<p> +“In the hurry and excitement I quite forgot to ask the name,” she replied. “The +station officials selected it. I was thinking of her—Madame Durrand, I +mean—more than the name of the hospital. I don’t even know the street; though +it’s somewhere in the locality of the station. It is dreadfully stupid of me, +your Excellency, not to know—but I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can remedy that very readily,” he said, and pressed a button. His secretary +responded. “Telephone our Consul-General in New York to ascertain immediately +from the railroad officials + +the hospital to which Madame Durrand, who broke her ankle and wrist in the +Pennsylvania Station, at ten o’clock on Monday, was taken.” +</p> + +<p> +The secretary saluted and withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +“Might not our friends the enemy have bribed someone to suppress Madame +Durrand’s letter or wire?” Mrs. Clephane asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Very possibly. It is entirely likely that they wouldn’t be apt to stop with +the accident.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think they were responsible for Madame Durrand’s fall?” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you forgotten the man who jostled Madame Durrand?” the Marquis reminded. +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure! How stupid not to think of it. You see, your Excellency, I am not +accustomed to the ways of diplomacy and to assuming every one’s a rogue until +he proves otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have a poor opinion of diplomats!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Not of diplomats, only of their professional ways. And as they all have the +same ways, it’s fair, I suppose, among one another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you tell Monsieur Harleston your opinion of our vocation?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I did—somewhat more emphatically.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what, if you care to tell, did he say?” +</p> + +<p> +“He quite agreed with me; he even went further.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wise man, Harleston!” the Marquis chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“Implying that he was not sincere?” +</p> + +<p> +The Marquis threw up his hands. “Perish the thought! I imply that he is a man +of rare discrimination and admirable taste.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now won’t you please tell me, your Excellency, if you credit, no, if you +<i>believe</i>, my story—and don’t be a diplomat for the telling.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Madame Clephane, I do believe your tale—it bears the impress of truth +in what you’ve not done, as well as in what you’ve done. Had you ever been in +the service you would recognize my meaning. That the abductors did not triumph +was due first to their carelessness, and second to chance, in the person of +Monsieur Harleston. He plays the game; and is violating no rule of diplomacy by +his course in the affair. Indeed he would be recreant to his country’s service +were he to do otherwise. And France would infinitely prefer the United States +to have the letter rather than Germany. It’s unfortunate, but it’s not as +unfortunate as it might be.” +</p> + +<p> +“You make me feel much, oh, so much better!” Mrs. Clephane replied. “I feared +lest my blunder could never be forgiven nor forgotten; and that Madame Durrand +would be held responsible and would never again be trusted.” +</p> + +<p> +The Ambassador smiled and shook his head. “I think you need not worry,” he +replied. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m perfectly sure, your Excellency, that if the United States is neither +directly or indirectly concerned in the matter of the letter, and if you were +to submit a translation of the letter to prove it, Mr. Harleston will deliver +to you the original.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did Monsieur Harleston tell you so?” the Marquis smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“No, oh, no! I only thought that—” +</p> + +<p> +“—in this one instance diplomats would trust each other?” he interjected. +“Alas, no! Monsieur Harleston would only assume the translation to be false and +given for the sole purpose of deception. I should assume exactly the same, were +our positions reversed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t you prove your translation by giving him the key to the cipher?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear madame,” the Marquis smiled, “such a thing would be unprecedented—and +would mean + +my instant dismissal from the service, and trial for treason.” +</p> + +<p> +She made a gesture of defeat. “Well, you can at least have the letter repeated +by cable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Also we can cable the government to dispatch another letter,” the Ambassador +soothed. “There are plenty of ways out of the difficulty, so don’t give +yourself any concern—and the United States is welcome to the letter. It will be +a far day, I assure you, ere its cipher bureau translates it.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced at the clock. Mrs. Clephane arose. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry for the mess I have made,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t give it a thought,” he assured her. “If you can help us, you will be +where?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will be at the Chateau until this matter is straightened out—and subject to +your instant call.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good—you are more than kind; France appreciates it.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand, escorted her with gracious courtesy to the door, and bowed +her out. +</p> + +<p> +Then he stepped to his desk and rang twice. +</p> + +<p> +The First Secretary entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear her entire story?” the Marquis asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I did, sir,” the First Secretary replied. +</p> + +<p> +“You believe it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then set Pasquier to work to ascertain what this Madame Spencer is about. Let +him report as quickly as he has anything definite. I’ll cable Paris at once as +to the letter.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>XIV—The Slip Of Paper</h2> + +<p> +Madeline Spencer, leaning languidly against the mahogany table in the corner of +the drawing-room, drummed softly with her finger tips as she listened. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the use of it all?” Marston was asking. “We can’t get the letter. +Harleston evidently told the truth; he has turned it over to the State +Department, so why not be content that it’s there, and let well enough alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been letting well enough alone by occupying them with the notion that the +letter is the thing most desired,” Mrs. Spencer returned. “Muddying the water, +as it were, so as to obscure the main issue and get away with the trick. Direct +your attention here, if you please, gentlemen! Meanwhile we escape from the +other end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Clephane was at the French Embassy this afternoon,” he observed. +</p> + +<p> +“At last she had a glimmering of sense!” Mrs. Spencer laughed. “Why she didn’t +beat it there direct from the train I can’t imagine. Such ignorance is a large +asset for those of us who know. I had thought of impersonating her and amusing +myself with d’Hausonville, but I concluded it wasn’t worth while. It +<i>riles</i> me, however, that the affair was so atrociously bungled by +Crenshaw and the others. What possessed them to release Mrs. Clephane once they +had her?—and what in Heaven’s name made them overlook the letter in the cab?” +</p> + +<p> +“Search me!” Marston replied. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no occasion to search you, Marston,” she smiled, “I shouldn’t find +very much except—placidity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Placidity has its advantages,” he smiled back. +</p> + +<p> +“It has; that’s why I asked the Chief for you. You were not as happy in your +choice of assistants, Marston. They are a stupid lot. You may send them back to +New York. We’ll handle this matter ourselves, with Mrs. Chartrand’s involuntary +assistance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, madame!” said Marston. “The trouble, you see, came with that chap +Harleston’s + +butting into the affair. Who would have foreseen that he would happen along +just at that particular moment and scoop the letter without turning a hair. It +was rotten luck sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was all easy enough if the blundering fools had only exercised an atom of +sense,” Mrs. Spencer retorted. “Mrs. Clephane couldn’t deceive a normal +two-year-old child; she is as transparent as plate glass.” +</p> + +<p> +“She was clever enough to get rid of the letter in the cab, and to give them +the plausible story that it was locked in the hotel safe. And the hotel safe +was the reasonable place for her to leave the letter until she had seen the +Ambassador, and someone from the Embassy could return with her and get the +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granted—if Mrs. Clephane were a wise woman and in the service. She isn’t wise +and she isn’t in the service; and both these facts are so apparent that he who +runs may read. She played the Buissards for fools and won. If they had +exercised the intelligence of an infant, they’d have known that she had the +letter with her when she left the hotel. You got a glimmer of light when you +thought of the cab—and Mrs. Clephane told + +you that Mr. Harleston had stopped and looked at the sleeping horse and then +started him toward Dupont Circle. You came to me to report—and I, knowing +Harleston, solved the remainder of the mystery. But with Harleston’s entry the +affair assumed quite a different aspect; and it is no reflection on you, +Marston, that your expedition to his apartment didn’t succeed; though somewhat +later Crenshaw did act as a semi-reasonable man, and secured the letter—only to +foozle again like an imbecile. The play in the hotel last night, as schemed by +us, should have gone through and eliminated Clephane and Harleston for a time; +but Harleston upset things by his quick action and sense of danger—moreover, he +guessed as to Clephane, for the management got wise and made a search, and the +dear lady found Harleston and me in Peacock Alley—and she pre-empted him.” +</p> + +<p> +Marston blinked and said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you say something?” she asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“What is there to say that you don’t already know,” he replied placidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Very little, Marston, about the subject in + +hand,” she replied curtly. “And now let us see how matters stand to date. +First—the French Ambassador knows that a cipher letter to him from his Foreign +Minister has been intercepted and is in the hands of the American State +Department. Second—as it is in letter cipher, there isn’t much likelihood of it +being translated. Third—the matter covered by the letter must be something that +they are reluctant to send by cable; for you know, Marston, that the United +States, in common with European nations, requires all telegraph and cable +companies to forward immediately to the State Department a copy of every cipher +message addressed to a foreign official. Maybe they are not able to translate +it, but of that the sending nation cannot be sure and it makes it very careful, +particularly when the local government is affected. Fourth—France will have to +choose between consuming a week in getting another letter from Paris to +Washington, or she will have to chance the cable with the risk of America +learning her message.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think France will do?” Marston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“If the letter concerned my mission, she will + +risk the cable,” Mrs. Spencer replied. “She would far rather disclose the +affair to the United States, than to let Germany succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“May she not be content now to warn the United States?” suggested Marston. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite possible. All depends whether the letter concerns my mission. We +have been informed by the Wilhelm-strasse that it probably does, and directed +to prevent its delivery to the French Ambassador. We’ve succeeded in +preventing, but bungled it over to the United States—the one country that we +shouldn’t have aroused. What in the devil’s name ails your assistants, +Marston—particularly Crenshaw?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be quite candid,” Marston replied, “he had a grouch; he thought that +Sparrow and I flub-dubbed the matter of the cab, and deliberately tried to lose +him when we went to the Collingwood. And when he did come, he drew his gun on +us until he understood.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“He thought that it was a scheme of Sparrow to injure him in your eyes. It +seems that he and Sparrow are jealous of your beautiful eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you talking about?” she demanded. + +“What have I, or my beautiful eyes, to do with Crenshaw and Sparrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“What usually happens to the men who are associated with you in any enterprise: +they get daffy over you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because they get daffy over me is no excuse for stupid execution of the +business in hand,” she shrugged. “<i>You</i> never have been guilty of +stupidity, Marston.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I’ve managed never to be a fool about you—however much I have been +tempted to become one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have been, Marston?” she inflected. +</p> + +<p> +“Have been—and <i>am</i>,” he bowed. “I’m not different from the rest—only—” +</p> + +<p> +She curled herself on a divan, and languidly stretched her slender rounded arms +behind the raven hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Only what, Marston?” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Only I know when the game is beyond me.” +</p> + +<p> +“So, to you, I’m a game?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of an impossible sort,” he replied. “I admire at a distance—and keep my head.” +</p> + +<p> +“And your heart, too, <i>mon ami</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“My heart is the servant of my head. When it + +ceases so to be, I shall ask to be detached from the Paris station.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you satisfied with your present assignment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Much more than satisfied; very much more than satisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +She held out her hand to him, and smiled ravishingly. +</p> + +<p> +“We understand each other now, Marston,” she said simply; which tied Marston +only the tighter to her—as she well knew. And Marston knew it, too. Also he +knew that he had not the shade of a chance with her—and that she knew that he +knew it. It was Madeline Spencer’s experience with men that such as she tried +for she usually got. There were exceptions, but them she could count on the +fingers of one hand. Harleston—though for a time he was on the verge of +submission—was an exception. And for that she was ready to rend him at the +fitting opportunity; the more so because her own feelings had been aroused. As +they were once before with Armand Dalberg—who had calmly put her in her place, +and tumbled her schemes about her ears. +</p> + +<p> +All her life there would be a weak spot in her + +heart for Dalberg; and, such is the peculiarly inconsistent nature of the +female, a hatred that fed itself on his scorn of her. +</p> + +<p> +She had dared much with Dalberg—and often; and always she had lost. The Duke of +Lotzen was only a means to an end: money and exquisite ease. Left with ample +wealth on his decease, she, for her excitement and to be in affairs, had mixed +in diplomacy, and had quickly become an expert in tortuous moves of the +tortuous game. +</p> + +<p> +Then one day she encountered Harleston, and bested him. With a rare good nature +for a diplomat, he had taken his defeat with a smile, at the same time +observing her manifold attractions with a careful eye and an indulgent mind for +the past. Which caused her to look at him again, and to think of him +frequently; and at last to want him for her own—after a little while. And he +had appeared not averse to the wanting—after a little while. Now, just as he +was about to succumb, he was suddenly whisked away by another woman—that woman +simply a later edition of herself: the same figure, the same poise, the same +methods, the same allurements; but younger in years, fresher, and, she admitted +it to herself, less + +acquainted with the ways of men. And now she had lost him; and never would she +be able to get him back. Another woman had filched him from her—filched him +forever from her, she knew. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore she hated Mrs. Clephane with a glowing hate. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen the—<i>man</i>?” Marston asked, when her attention came back to +him. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. “I’ve had a communication from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet. He will duly apprise me. Meanwhile we, or rather I, am to remain +quiet and wait expectantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“He thinks you are alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. He would be off like a colt if he thought that I had a corps of +assistants.” +</p> + +<p> +“The longer the delay the more chance France has to repeat the letter by +cable,” Marston remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly—but I shan’t be fool enough to tell him so, or anything as to the +letter. He would end negotiations instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +“When are you to see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“This afternoon at three.” +</p> + +<p> +“At Chartrands?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, in Union Station.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a long way to go,” Marston observed. +</p> + +<p> +“So I intimated, but without avail.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he afraid?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, only inexperienced in deception and over cautious. Moreover, it is a +serious business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Particularly since Harleston is on the trail?” Marston added. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Spencer nodded again. “We’ll pray that he does not uncover the matter +until we are up and away.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we pray, it should be effective!” Marston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“It likely will be—one way or the other,” she returned drily. “However, if we +are careful, a prayer more or less won’t effect much damage. It’s really up to +the—man in the case. If he can get away with it, we can manage the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if he can’t?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there will be nothing on us, unless the Clephane letter is translated and +implicates me by name—or Paris resorts to cable. If it were not for France’s +meddling, it would be ridiculously + +simple so far as we are concerned; everything would be up to the man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you do not know who the man is, nor what he is about to betray?” Marston +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not—nor am I in the least inquisitive, despite the fact that I’m a woman. +I haven’t even so much as tried to guess. I was ordered here under express +instructions; which are to meet someone who will communicate with me by letter +in which a certain phrase will occur. Thereafter I am to be guided by him and +the circumstances until I receive from him a certain package, when I am +instantly to depart the country and hurry straight to Berlin. Whether I am to +receive a copy of a secret treaty between our friends or our enemies, a +diplomatic secret of high importance, a report on the fortifications or forces +of another nation, or what it is, I haven’t the slightest idea. It’s all in the +game—and the game fascinates me; its dangers and its uncertainty. Some other +nation wants what Germany is about to get; some other nation seeks to prevent +its betrayal; some other nation seeks to block us; someone else would even +murder us to gain a point—and our own employer would not raise a + +hand to seek retribution, or even to acknowledge that we had died in her cause. +They laud the soldier who dies for his flag, but he who dies in the secret +service of a government is never heard of. He disappears; for the peace or the +reputation of nations his name is not upon the public rolls of the good and +faithful servants. It’s risky, Marston; it’s thankless; it’s without glory and +without fame; nevertheless it’s a fascinating game; the stakes are +incalculable, the remuneration is the best.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re quite right as to those high up in the service,” Marston remarked, “the +remuneration, I mean, but not as to us poor devils who are only the pawns. We +not only have no glory nor honour, but considering the danger and what we do we +are mightily ill paid, my lady, mightily ill paid. The fascination and danger +of the game, as you say, is what holds us. At any rate, it’s what holds me—and +the pleasure of working sometimes with you, and what that means.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we always win when together because we are in accord,” she smiled, holding +out her hand to him. “Team work, my good friend, team work!” +</p> + +<p> +He took the hand, and bending over raised it to his lips with an air of fine +courtesy and absolute devotion. +</p> + +<p> +“And we shall win this time, Marston,” she went on, “we shall sail for Europe +before the week is ended—I’m sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be satisfied if we never sail—or sail always,” he returned, and slowly +released her fingers and stepped back. +</p> + +<p> +She paid him with a ravishing smile; and Madeline Spencer, when she wished, +could smile a man into fire—and out again. It was too soon for the “out again” +with Marston. He was very useful—he was not restless, nor demanding, nor +sensitive, nor impatient of others, nor jealous. He was like a faithful dog, +who adores and adores, and pleads only to be allowed to adore. Moreover, he was +a capable man and trustworthy; dependable and far above his class. Therefore +she took care that his chains should be silken, yet at the same time that he be +not permitted to graze too far afield. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” Marston was saying, after a little thought, “if Carpenter, the +Chief of the Secret Bureau of their State Department, might be purchasable—if +we made him a good stiff bid?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she answered. “It isn’t likely, however; he is too old and +tried an official to be venal. Furthermore we haven’t any money at hand, and my +instructions are to act independently of the German Embassy, and under no +circumstances whatever to communicate with it. In such business as we are +engaged, the Embassy never knows us nor of our plans. They don’t dare to know; +and they will calmly deny us if we appeal to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“The money might be arranged,” Marston suggested. “You could cable to Berlin +for it—and have it cabled back.” +</p> + +<p> +“It might be done,” said she thoughtfully. “You mean to try Carpenter for a +copy of the cipher letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t do any particular harm, as I see it; it can’t make us any worse off +and it may give us the letter. It’s worth the trial, it seems to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if Carpenter has not succeeded in finding the key-word, how will the +letter help? Do you expect to bribe the French Embassy also?” +</p> + +<p> +“It may not be necessary,” he replied. “I know a number of keys of French +ciphers; one of them may fit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said she quietly; “you are empowered to have a try at Carpenter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good—I’ll start after it at once. Any further orders, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“None till evening,” again holding out her hand—and again smiling him into +kissing it adoringly. +</p> + +<p> +“A useful man, Marston!” she reflected when the door closed behind him. “And +one who never presumes. A smile pays him for anything, and keeps him devoted to +me. Yes, a very useful and satisfactory man. His idea of corrupting Carpenter +may be rather futile; and he may get into a snarl by trying it, but,” with a +shrug of her shapely shoulders, “that is his affair and won’t involve me. And +if he should prove successful, the new French key-word which the Count, the +dear Count, gave me just before I left Paris, may turn the trick.” +</p> + +<p> +The Count de M—— was confidential secretary to the Foreign Minister, and he had +slipped her the bit of paper containing the key-word at a ball, two evenings +before she sailed on her present mission. He was not aware that she was +sailing, nor was she; the order came so suddenly that she and her + +maid had barely time to fling a few things in a couple of steamer trunks and +catch the last train. She had fascinated the Count; for a year he had been one +of her most devoted, but most discreet, admirers. He also was exceedingly +serviceable. Hence she took pains to hold him. +</p> + +<p> +Languidly she reached for her little gold mesh bag—the one thing that never +left her—and from a secret pocket took several slips of paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, where is it!” she exclaimed, looking again with greater care.... “The +devil! I’ve lost it!” +</p> + +<p> +However, after a moment of thought, she recalled the key-word, and the rule +that he whispered to her—also the squeeze he gave her hand, and the kiss with +the eyes. The Count had fine eyes—he could look much, very much.... She smiled +in retrospection.... Yet how did she drop that bit of paper—and where?... Or +did she drop it?... All the rest were there. It was very peculiar.... She had +referred to the De Neviers slip on last Saturday—and she distinctly remembered +that the Count’s was there at that time. Consequently she must have dropped it +on Sunday when she was studying the Rosny matter, + +and then she was in this room—and Marston and Crenshaw and Sparrow were in the +next room.—H-u-m.... Well, the Count wrote in a woman’s hand; and the finder +cannot make anything out of the words: +</p> + +<p> +<i>À l’aube du jour</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>XV—Identified</h2> + +<p> +So it happened, that on the same day and practically at the same hour Carpenter +gave instructions looking to the pilfering of the French private diplomatic +cipher, Marston began to lay plans to test Carpenter’s venality, and Madeline +Spencer betook herself to Union Station to meet the man-in-the-case, whose face +she had never seen, and whose name she did not know. +</p> + +<p> +She went a roundabout way, walking down F Street and stopping to make some +trifling purchases in two or three shops. She could not detect that she was +being followed, but she went into a large department store, and spent +considerable time in matching some half-dozen shades of ribbon. On the way out +she stepped into a telephone booth, and directed the dispatcher at the Chateau +to send a taxi to Brentano’s for Mrs. Williams. By the time she had leisurely +crossed the street the taxi + +was there; getting in, she gave the order to drive to Union Station by way of +Sixteenth Street and Massachusetts Avenue. As she passed the Chateau, she saw +Mrs. Clephane and Harleston coming out; a bit farther on they shot by in a +spanking car. +</p> + +<p> +She drew back to avoid recognition; but they were too much occupied with each +other, she observed, even to notice the occupant of the humble but high-priced +taxi. At Scott Circle their car swung westward and disappeared down +Massachusetts Avenue; she turned eastward, toward tomorrow’s rising sun, Union +Station, and the rendezvous—with hate in her heart for the woman who had +displaced her, and a firm resolve to square accounts at the first opportunity. +Mrs. Clephane might be innocent, likely was innocent of any intention to come +between Harleston and her, but that did not relieve Mrs. Clephane from +punishment, nor herself from the chagrin of defeat and the sorrow of blasted +hopes. The balance was against her; and, be it man or woman, she always tried +to balance up promptly and a little more—when the balancing did not interfere +with the business on which she was employed. + +Madeline Spencer, for one of her sort, was exceptional in this: she always kept +faith with the hand that paid her. +</p> + +<p> +At Union Station she dismissed the taxi and walked briskly to the huge +waiting-room. There she dropped the briskness, and went leisurely down its long +length to the drug stand, where she bought a few stamps and then passed out +through the middle aisle to the train shed, inquiring on the way of an +attendant the time of the next express from Baltimore. To his answer she didn’t +attend, nevertheless she thanked him graciously, and seeing the passengers were +beginning to crowd through the gates from an incoming train she turned toward +them, as if she were expecting someone. Which was true—only it was not by +train. +</p> + +<p> +It had been five minutes past the hour, by the big clock in the station, when +she crossed the waiting-room; by the time the crowd had passed the gates, and +there was no excuse for remaining, another five had gone. The appointment was +for three exactly. She had not been concerned to keep it to the minute, but the +man should have been; as a woman, it was her prerogative to be careless as to +such matters; moreover she had + +found it an advantage, as a rule, to be a trifle late, except with her +superiors or those to whom either by position or expediency it was well to +defer. With such she was always on time—and a trifle more. +</p> + +<p> +As she turned away, a tall, fine-looking, well set-up, dark-haired, clean-cut, +young chap, who had just rounded the news-stand, grabbed off his hat and +greeted her with the glad smile of an old acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how do you do, Mrs. Cuthbert!” he exclaimed. “This is an unexpected +pleasure, and <i>most opportune</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight stress on the last two words:—the words of recognition. +</p> + +<p> +“Delightful, Mr. <i>Davidson</i>!” she returned—which continued the +recognition—taking his extended hand and holding it. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t I see you to your car, or carriage, or whatever you’re using?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You may call a taxi,” she replied; “and you may also come with me, if you’ve +nothing else to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m too sorry. There has been a—mixup, and it is <i>impossible</i> now, Mrs. +Cuthbert. <i>I have an + +important appointment at the Capitol.</i>” Which completed the recognition. +</p> + +<p> +“When can you come to see me?” she asked. “I’m at the Chateau.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope tomorrow, if I’m not suddenly tied up. You will be disengaged?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve absolutely nothing on hand for tomorrow,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Fine!” he returned. “I think I can manage to come about one and take you out +for luncheon.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will be charming!” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Where would you like to go—to the Rataplan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wherever you suggest,” she replied. “I’ll leave it to you where we shall go +and what we shall have.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re always considerate and kind,” he averred. “If nothing untoward occurs, +it will be a fine chance to talk over old times, to explain everything, and to +arrange for the future.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will be charming!” +</p> + +<p> +“And unless I am disappointed in a <i>certain matter</i>, I shall have a +surprise for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall welcome the surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +“We both shall welcome it, I think!” he laughed. “It seems a long time since +I’ve seen you, Madeline,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems a long time to me, too, Billy. We must do better now, old friend. +Come to Paris and we’ll make such a celebration of it that the Boulevards will +run with—gaiety.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall come. Meanwhile—tomorrow.” He raised his stick to the taxi dispatcher. +“I’m sorry to leave you,” he confided to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me take you as far as the Capitol,” she urged. +</p> + +<p> +“Not today. Wait until I come to Paris—then you may take me where you will and +how.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like you, Billy!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ve something more to tell you,” he whispered, as he put her in and +closed the door. “The Chateau!” he said to the driver then stepping back, he +doffed his hat and waved his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I like you, Mr. Davidson,” she smiled, as the taxi sped away, “but I’ll +like you better when the present business is completed and I’m in Paris—without +you.” +</p> + +<p> +He was a handsome chap enough, and he would have considerable money when the +present business + +was completed, yet, somehow he did not appeal, even to her mercenary side. +Moreover she no longer dealt in his sort. Time was when he would have served +admirably, but she was done with plucking for plucking’s sake. She plucked +still, but neither so ruthlessly nor so omnivorously as of yore. She did not +need; nor was she so gregarious in her tastes. She could pick and choose, and +wait—and have some joy of <i>Him</i> and take her time; be content not to pluck +him clean, and so retain his friendship even after he had been displaced. With +her now it was the man in high office or of high estate at whom she aimed—and +her aim was usually true. Neither with one of her tastes and tendencies was +monogamy apt to be attractive nor practiced—though at times it subserved her +expediency. At present, it was the Count de M——, an English Cabinet Minister, +and a Russian Grand Duke;—but <i>discreetly</i>, oh, so discreetly that none +ever dreamed of the others, and the public never dreamed of them. To all +outward appearances, she dwelt in the odor of eminent respectability and sedate +gaiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive slowly through Rock Creek Park until I tell you to return,” she ordered +the man when + +they had passed beyond the station; then withdrew into a corner of the taxi, +and busied herself with her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +It was almost two hours later that she gave him the Collingwood as a +destination. +</p> + +<p> +At the Collingwood she dismissed the taxi, and without sending up her name +passed directly up to Mrs. Chartrand’s apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Williams, who was on duty at the telephone desk, saw her—and whistled +softly. The instant the elevator door clanged shut, she rang Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“If you can come down a moment, Mr. Harleston,” she said softly, “I have some +interesting information for you; it may not be well to—you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be down at once,” Harleston replied. +</p> + +<p> +When he appeared, it was with his hat and stick, as though he were going out. +</p> + +<p> +“If anyone calls, Miss Williams,” he remarked, pausing by her desk, “I’ll be +back in about half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Mr. Harleston,” she replied. Then she lowered her voice. “Your +slender lady of the ripples, of the other night, has just come in. She’s young, +and a perfect peach for looks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is she?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. She didn’t have herself announced; she went straight on up. +Ben!” motioning to the elevator boy, “where did the slender woman, you just +took up, get off?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the fou’th flo’, Miss Williams,” said Ben. “She went into fo’ one.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re sure of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yas, Miss,” the negro grinned, “I waited to see.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Williams nodded a dismissal. +</p> + +<p> +“Four one is Chartrands’ apartment,” she remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this the lady of the ripples?” Harleston asked, handing her the photograph +of Madeline Spencer. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure thing!” she exclaimed. “That’s she, all right. How in the world did you +ever—pardon me, Mr. Harleston, I shouldn’t have said that.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not meddling, Miss Williams. But it’s a long story—too long to detail +now. Some day soon I’ll confide in you, for you’ve helped me very much in this +matter and deserve to know. In fact, you’ve helped me more than you can +imagine. Meanwhile mum’s the word, remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mum, it is, Mr. Harleston,” she replied, “For once a telephone girl won’t +leak, even to her best friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you,” Harleston returned. “Keep your eyes open, also your +<i>ears</i>, and report to me anything of interest as to our affair.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Williams answered with a knowing nod and an intimate little smile, then +swung around to answer a call. Harleston returned to his rooms. The happenings +of the recent evening were quite intelligible to him now: +</p> + +<p> +When the episode of the cab of the sleeping horse occurred, Mrs. Spencer was in +the Chartrand apartment. Marston, in some way, had learned of Harleston’s +participation in the cab matter, and with Sparrow had followed him to the +Collingwood, entering by the fire-escape—with the results already seen. The +noise on the fire-escape was undoubtedly made by them, and the long interval +that elapsed before they entered his apartment was consumed in reporting to +her, or in locating his number. +</p> + +<p> +One thing, however, was not clear: how they had learned so promptly of +Harleston’s part in the affair, and that it was he who had taken the letter + +from the cab. Either someone had seen him at the cab and had babbled to the +Marston crowd, or else Mrs. Winton or Mrs. Clephane had not been quite frank in +her story. He instantly relieved Mrs. Clephane of culpability; Mrs. Winton did +not count with him. Moreover, it was no longer of any moment—since Spencer’s +people knew and had acted on their knowledge, and were still acting on it—and +were still without the letter. The important thing to Harleston was that it had +served to disclose what promised to be a most serious matter to this country, +and which, but for the trifling incident of the cab, would likely have gone +through successfully—and America been irretrievably injured. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline Spencer had assured him that the United States was not concerned; that +the matter had to do only with a phase of the Balkan question. But such +assurances were worthless and given only to deceive, and, further, were so +understood by both of them. Maybe her story was true—only the future would +prove it. Meanwhile you trust at your peril, <i>caveat emptor</i>, your eyes +are your market, or words to similar effect. Of course he could cause her to be +apprehended by the police, yet such + +a course was unthinkable; it would violate every rule of the game; it would +complicate relations with Germany, and afford her adequate ground for reprisals +on our secret agents. A certain code of honour obtained with nations, as well +as with criminals. +</p> + +<p> +As he opened the door, the telephone rang. He took up the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Mr. Harleston?” came a soft voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Madame X!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Still Madame X?” she inflected. +</p> + +<p> +“Only to one person.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to her no longer,” she returned. “What are you doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thinking about coming down to dine with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just what I was about to ask of you. Come at seven—to my apartment. I have +something important to discuss.” +</p> + +<p> +“So have I,” he replied. “I’ll be along in an hour, or sooner if you want me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you, Mr. Harleston,” she laughed, “but I can wait an hour, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which may mean much or little,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Just so.—You may try your diplomatic methods on solving the problem.” +</p> + +<p> +“My methods or my mind?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Your mental methods,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I pass!” he exclaimed. “You may explain at dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile, I recommend you to your diplomatic mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Until dinner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly—and forever after, Mr. Harleston, be an ordinary man with me, +please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you fancy that a <i>seeing</i> man can be just an ordinary man when +<i>you</i> are with him?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not required to fancy you what you’re not,” she returned. +</p> + +<p> +“In other words, I’m not a seeing man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not especially, sir.—And there’s another problem, for your diplomacy. <i>À +bientôt</i>, Monsieur Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +He telephoned to the Club for a taxi to be at the door at a quarter to seven; +then dressed leisurely and descended. +</p> + +<p> +“Any developments?” he inquired of Miss Williams. +</p> + +<p> +“None,” she replied. “Ripples hasn’t come down yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said he. “Tell me in the morning—you’re on duty then?” +</p> + +<p> +She answered by a nod, the flash was calling her, and he passed on toward the +door—just as the elevator shot down and Madeline Spencer stepped out. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Mr. Harleston?” said she, with a broad smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Mrs. Spencer! I’m glad to see you,” he returned. “If you’re bound for +the Chateau or downtown, won’t you let me take you in my car? It’s at the +door.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you think you dare to risk your reputation, I’ll be glad to accept,” she +replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a risk?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That is for you to judge,” as he put her in. +</p> + +<p> +“The Chateau?” he inquired;—and when she nodded he leaned forward and gave the +order. +</p> + +<p> +“I was surprised to see you—” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“Why pretend you were surprised to see me?” she laughed. “You were not; nor am +I to see you. We are too old foes to pretend as to the non-essentials—when + +each knows them. The cards are on the table, Guy, play them open.” +</p> + +<p> +“How many cards are on the table?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“All of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it’s double dummy—with a blind deck on the side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose side?” she flashed back. +</p> + +<p> +“Yours!” he returned pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“What am I concealing?” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. If I did—it would be easier for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The one thing I haven’t told you, I can’t tell you: the precise character of +the business that brings me here. I’ve told you all I know—and broken my oath +to do it. I can’t well do more, Guy.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you can’t well do more,” Harleston conceded. “And I can’t well do less +under all the—admitted circumstances; inferentially and directly admitted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you—butt in?” she asked. “Why didn’t you let the cab, and the letter, +and well enough alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was so mysterious; and so full of possibilities,” + +he smiled. “And when I did it, I didn’t know that you were interested.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it would have made you all the more prying if you had known,” she +retorted. +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly! I’ve never yet heard that personal feelings entered into the +diplomatic secret service—and no more have you, my lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Personal feelings!” she smiled, and shrugged his answer aside. “When did you +first know that I was concerned in this affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“When I saw you in the Chateau,” he replied—there was no obligation on him to +mention the photograph. +</p> + +<p> +“Which was?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The evening I met you in Peacock Alley. How long then had you been here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two days!” +</p> + +<p> +“And not a word to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Personal feelings do not enter into the diplomatic secret service,’” she +quoted mockingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely,” he agreed, “We understand each other and the game.” +</p> + +<p> +It served his purpose not to notice the mock in her tones. He very well +understood what it imported and what prompted it. For the first + +time the tigress had disclosed her claws. Hitherto it was always the soft +caress and the soothing purr—and when she wished, her caress could be very soft +and her purr very soothing. He had assumed that there were claws, but she had +hidden them from him; and what is ever hidden one after a time forgets. And she +had some justification for her resentment. He admitted to himself that his +attitude and manner had been such as might cause her to believe that she was +more to him than an opponent in a game, that he was about to forgive her past, +and to ask her to warrant only for the future. And he had a notion that she was +prepared to warrant and to keep the warrant—even as she had done with the Duke +of Lotzen. Now it was ended. He knew it. +</p> + +<p> +And she knew it, too. One sight of Mrs. Clephane with him and she realized that +he was lost to her: Mrs. Clephane had all her outward grace and beauty, but not +her past. Her woman’s intuition had told her in the red-room of the Chateau; +she knew absolutely when she saw his greeting to Mrs. Clephane in the corridor +after her escape. She must go back to her Count de M——, her Cabinet Minister, +and her Russian Grand + +Duke. The only two men she had ever cared for would have none of her, despite +her beauty and her fascination. Dalberg ever had scorned her; Harleston had +looked with favour, wavered, was about to yield, when another—outwardly her +<i>alter ego</i>, save only in the colour of her hair—appeared and filched him +from her. And whether Dalberg’s scorn or Harleston’s defection was the more +humiliating, she did not know. Together they made a mocking and a desolation of +her love and her life. And as she came to hate with a fierce hatred the +Princess whom Dalberg loved, so with an even more bitter hatred she hated Mrs. +Clephane who had won Harleston from her. For while with Dalberg she never had +the slightest chance, and knew it perfectly, with Harleston there was the +bitterness of blasted hopes as well as of defeat. +</p> + +<p> +And Harleston, sitting there beside her, the perfume of her hair and garments +heavy about him, read much that was in her thoughts; and some remorse smote +him—a little of remorse, that is—and he would have said something in mitigation +of her judgment. But a look at her—and the excuse was put aside and the subject +ended before it was + +even begun. She was not one to accept excuses or to be proffered them, it were +best to let the matter rest. Meanwhile, Mrs. Clephane must be warned of the +danger confronting her. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced again at her—and met her subtle smile. +</p> + +<p> +“This Mrs. Clephane,” she remarked with quiet derision, “wherein is she +different from the rest of us?” +</p> + +<p> +“By ‘us’ you mean whom?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The women you have known.” +</p> + +<p> +“And seen?” +</p> + +<p> +“And seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re exceedingly catholic!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re exceedingly exclusive—and precipitate; and you haven’t answered my +question. Wherein is Mrs. Clephane different from the rest of us?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the risk of being personal,” he replied, “I should say that she is very +like you in face and figure and manner. If her hair were black, the resemblance +would be positively striking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, since we’re on the personal equation, the difference is where?” +</p> + +<p> +He threw up his hands and laughed to avoid the + +obvious answer, an answer which she knew, and knew he wished to avoid. +</p> + +<p> +“The difference is where?” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall let you judge if there is a difference, and if there is, what it is,” +he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to know <i>your</i> mind, Mr. Harleston—I already know my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good girl!” he applauded. +</p> + +<p> +“Please put me aside and consider Mrs. Clephane,” she insisted. “Is she +cleverer than—well, than I am?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are the cleverest woman that I have ever known.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is she more intellectual?” +</p> + +<p> +“Preserve me from the intellectual woman!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Is she more travelled?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is she superficially more cultured?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has she a better disposition?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one could have a better disposition than you have ever shown to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is she more fascinating in manner?” +</p> + +<p> +“She couldn’t be!” +</p> + +<p> +“She <i>is</i> younger?” tentatively. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“But very little—two or three years, maybe?” she added. +</p> + +<p> +Again Harleston did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Is her conversation more entertaining?” she resumed. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Or more edifying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me again!” he exclaimed. “Edifying is in the same class as +intellectual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then all Mrs. Clephane has on me is a few years?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Other things don’t count with you, I assume—when they’re of the past, and both +have been a trifle tinctured.” +</p> + +<p> +She said it with affected carelessness and a ravishing smile; but Harleston was +aware that underneath there was bitterness of spirit, and cold hate of the +other woman. She had touched the pinch of the matter. Both knew it, and both +knew the answer. Yet she was hoping against hope; and he was loath to hurt her +needlessly, because Mrs. Clephane would be sure to catch the recoil, + +and because he himself was very fond of her—despite all and Mrs. Clephane. He +had seen his mistake in time, if it was a mistake, but that did not blind him +to Madeline Spencer’s fascinating manner and beautiful person, and to the fact +that she cared for him. However, neither might he let pass the charge she had +just made against Mrs. Clephane. Yet he tried to be kind to the woman beside +him, while defending the woman who was absent, and, as is often the case under +such circumstances he played for time—the hotel was but a block away—and made a +mess of it, so far as the woman beside him was concerned. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are a trifle tinctured—and with what?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled languidly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is scarcely worthy of you, Guy,” she remarked. “You are aiming +at—windmills; at least, I think you are not suddenly gone stupid. However, you +do not need to answer. Mrs. Clephane, you think, is not tinctured, and you know +that I have been—several shades deep. In other words, she surpasses me in your +estimation in the petty matter of morals. So be it; you’re no fool, and a +pretty woman cannot blind you to the facts + +for long. Then we shall see which you prefer. The woman who is honest about the +tincture, or the woman who is not. Now let us drop the matter, and attend +strictly to business until such time as the present business is ended,—and Mrs. +Clephane appears as she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it!” Harleston replied heartily, “We understand each other, Madeline.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we understand each other,” she said laconically, as the car drew in to +the curb. +</p> + +<p> +“So well, indeed,” he continued, as he gave her his hand to the sidewalk, “that +I have to arrange for you to meet the Secretary of State at four o’clock +tomorrow afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” said she, looking at him narrowly. +</p> + +<p> +“In his office. You would like to meet him, Madeline?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what your play is,” she laughed, “but I’ll meet him—and take my +chances. From all I can learn, the gentleman isn’t much but bumptiousness and +wind. To either you or me, Guy, he should be easy.” +</p> + +<p> +“The play,” Harleston explained, “is that the Secretary has heard of you and +wishes to see the remarkable woman who—almost upset a throne.” +</p> + +<p> +“His wish shall be gratified,” she shrugged. “Will you come for me, or am I to +go to him—a rendezvous <i>à deux</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll escort you to him—afterward it will depend on you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good!” she replied—“but all the same I wonder what’s the game.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Secretary’s wish and curiosity is the only game,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Far be it from me to balk either—when something may result of advantage to +your—” +</p> + +<p> +“—beautiful and fascinating self,” he interjected. +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyebrows and laughed scornfully, as the lift bore her upwards. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>XVI—Another Letter</h2> + +<p> +Harleston sauntered through Peacock Alley; not finding Mrs. Clephane, he had +himself announced and went up to her apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Outwardly he was impassive; inwardly there was the liveliest sensation of +eagerness and anticipation. He could not recall a time when he had so much joy +in living, and in the expectation of the woman. And when he felt Mrs. +Clephane’s small hand in his, and heard her bid him welcome, and looked into +her eyes, he was well content to be alive—and with her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve quite a lot to tell you,” she smiled. “I’m so glad you could dine with +me—it will give us much more time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Time is not of the essence of this contract,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“What contract?” she asked, with a fetching little frown of perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +“The contract of the present—and the future.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you mean our friendship—and that you won’t doubt me ever again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely—and then some,” he confided. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the ‘some’, Mr. Harleston?” frowning again in perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever may happen,” he said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean it—and more—when I may.” +</p> + +<p> +“The ‘more’ and the ‘may’ are in the future,” she remarked. “Meanwhile, what +have you to report?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very considerable,” said he. “Mrs. Spencer was in the Collingwood, this +afternoon—in the Chartrands’ apartment. And the telephone girl recognized her +as the woman who left the building on the night of the—cab.” +</p> + +<p> +“That explains a lot to you!” Mrs. Clephane exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“The explanation isn’t necessary, except to complete the chain of events,” he +replied. “We know the later and essential facts as to the letter. There is just +one earlier circumstance that isn’t clear to me; and while, as I say, it’s +immaterial + +yet I’m curious. How did the Spencer gang know that I had taken the letter from +the cab?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” Mrs. Clephane cried. “I fancy I can explain. You know I saw you at the +cab. Well, when they released me, I concluded I’d give them something to think +about, and I remarked that Mr. Harleston, of the United States Diplomatic +Service, had stopped at the cab, looked inside, and then started the horse out +Massachusetts Avenue. I thought I had told you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t tell me, but it’s very plain now. Madeline Spencer inferred the +rest and instructed them how to act. And they came very close to turning the +trick.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean to getting the letter?” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. “I had gone to bed, when something told me to take precautions; I +carried the letter across the corridor and gave it to a friend to keep for me +until morning. A short time after, the three men called.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Heavens!” she breathed. “What if they had gotten the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unless they knew the key-word, they wouldn’t have been any better off than are +we—I mean than is the United States.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m France, am I?” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“For only this once—and not for long, I trust,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Amen!” she exclaimed, “Also for ever more. I’ll be so relieved to be out of it +and back to my normal ways that I gladly promise never to try it again. I’m +committed to seeing this affair through and to aiding the French Embassy in +whatever way I can, both because I must keep faith with Madame Durrand, and +because my inexperience and credulity lost it the letter. That done, and I’m +for—you, Mr. Harleston!” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m for you always—no matter whom you’re for, nor what you may do or have +done,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +For just an instant she gave him her eyes; then the colour flamed up and she +turned hastily away. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, sir,” she commanded—most adorably he thought; “I had almost +forgotten that I have something to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been telling me a great deal,” he confided. +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged her answer over her shoulder, and peremptorily motioned him to a +chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Durrand has been located,” she began. + +“The Embassy telephoned me that she is in Passavant Hospital, getting along +splendidly; and that she duly wired them of her accident and of my having the +letter, with an identifying description of me. The wire was never received.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was blocked by a <i>present</i>,” he remarked. “The wire never left the +hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +“So the Marquis d’Hausonville said. He also assured me that the letter was of +no immediate importance, and that steps were being taken to have it repeated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which may be true,” Harleston smiled, “but it is entirely safe to assume that +he is acting precisely as though the letter was of the most immediate +importance. You may be sure that the moment you left him he dispatched a cable +to Paris reciting the facts, so that the Foreign Office could judge whether to +cable the letter or to dispatch it by messenger. And he has the reply hours +ago.”—(“Also,” he might have added, “our State Department—only it may not be +able to translate it.”) “I should say, Mrs. Clephane, that your duty is done +now, unless the Marquis calls on you for assistance. You have performed your +part—” +</p> + +<p> +“Very poorly,” she interjected. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, you have performed it exceptionally well. You, a novice at +this business, prevented the letter from falling into Spencer’s hands, and so +you blocked that part of their game. No, no, Mrs. Clephane, I regard you as +more than acquitted of blame.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re always nice, Mr. Harleston!” she responded. +</p> + +<p> +“Nice expresses very inadequately what I wish to be to you,” he said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Again the flush came—and her glance wavered, and fled away. +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile,” he went on, “I am quite content to know that you think me nice to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +She sprang up and moved out of distance, saying as she did so, with a ravishing +smile: +</p> + +<p> +“Nice is comprehended in other pleasant—adjectives.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is?” said he, advancing slowly toward her. +</p> + +<p> +“But you, Mr. Harleston, are forbidden to guess how pleasant, or the particular +adjective, until you’re permitted.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ll permit me to guess some day—and soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe so—and maybe not!” she laughed. + +“It will depend on the both of us—and the business in hand. Diplomats, you are +well aware, are given to very disingenuous ways and methods.” +</p> + +<p> +“In diplomacy,” he appended. “A diplomat, as a rule, is merely a man of a +little wider experience and more mature judgment—the American diplomat alone +excepted, save in the secret service. Therefore he knows his mind, and what he +wants; and he usually can be depended upon to keep after it until he gets it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to want it after he gets it?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be cynical,” he cautioned. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not. The world looks good to me, and I try to look good to the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have succeeded!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve about-faced,” she went on. “Now I presume everybody trustworthy until +it’s proven otherwise. Time was, and not so long ago, when I was more than +cynical; and I found it didn’t pay in a woman. A man may be cynical and get +away with it; a woman only injures her complexion, and makes trouble for +herself. Me for the happy spirit, and side-stepping the bumps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good girl!” Harleston applauded—thinking of her unhappy spirit, and the hard +bumps she must + +have endured during the time that the late deceased Clephane was whirling to an +aeroplane finish. “You’re a wonder, Mrs. Clephane,” he ended. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you afraid you’ll make me vain?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t be done,” he averred. “You simply can’t be spoiled; you’re much too +sensible.” +</p> + +<p> +“La! la!” she trilled. “What a paragon of—” +</p> + +<p> +—“everything,” he adjected. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything that I must be, if you so wish it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so!” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you afraid of a paragon, Mr. Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“Generally, yes; specifically, no.” +</p> + +<p> +“La! la!” she trilled again. “You’re becoming mystic; which means mysterious, +which means diplomatic, which means deception—which warns us to get back to the +simple life and have dinner. Want dinner, Mr. Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“With you, yes; also breakfast and luncheon daily.” +</p> + +<p> +“You couldn’t do that unless you were my husband,” she replied tantalizingly +and adorably. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly aware of it,” he responded, leaning + +forward over the back of the chair that separated them. +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not ready to take a husband, monsieur,” she protested lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly aware of that also. When you are ready, madame, I am ready too. +Until then I’m your good friend—and dinner companion.” +</p> + +<p> +He had spoken jestingly—yet the jest was mainly pretence; the real passion was +there and ready the instant he let it control. As for Mrs. Clephane, Harleston +did not know. Nor did she herself know—more than that she was quite content to +be with him, and let him do for her, assured that he would not misunderstand, +nor misinterpret, nor presume. So, across the chair’s back, she held out her +hand to him; and he took it, pressed it lightly, but answered never a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you shall hear the special matter I’ve got bottled up,” said she. “Whom do +you think was here late this afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Emperor of Spain!” he guessed. +</p> + +<p> +“A diplomatic answer!” she mocked. “There is no Emperor of Spain; yet it’s not +absolutely wide of the diplomatic truth, for it was Mrs. Buissard—she of the +cab, you’ll remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“So!” Harleston exclaimed. “What’s the move now; I fancy she was not paying a +social visit.” +</p> + +<p> +“You fancy correctly,” Mrs. Clephane replied. “She came to the apartment +unannounced; and when I, chancing to be passing the door when she knocked, +opened it, and saw who was without, I almost cried out with surprise. I didn’t +cry out, however. On the contrary, remembering diplomatic ways, I most +cordially invited her in. To do her justice, Mrs. Buissard, beyond expressing +hope that I had experienced no ill effect from the occurrence of the other +night, wasted no time in coming to business.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Mrs. Clephane,’ she said, sitting on the corner of the table just where you +are sitting now, ‘I have a proposition to make to you—may I make it?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I could see no reason to forbid, so I acquiesced. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And if you cannot accept straightway, will you promise to forget that it was +made?’ she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Again I acquiesced. I admit, I was curious. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We assume,’ said she, ‘that between France and Germany you are indifferent.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Paris and Berlin have each their good points,’ I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Quite so,’ she acquiesced; ‘just now, however, we ask you to favour Berlin +and for a consideration.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I don’t want a consideration,’ I smiled; ‘tell me what’s the favour you +seek?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘We ask you,’ she replied instantly, ‘to take a letter to the French +Ambassador and tell him that it is the letter Madame Durrand gave you in New +York, and that it has just been returned to you by the American State +Department.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Have you the letter with you?’ I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I have,’ she replied, producing it from her bag. ‘It may not exactly resemble +the original.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It doesn’t,’ said I. +</p> + +<p> +“‘But the French Ambassador won’t know it,’ she smiled. ‘Further, so as to make +the matter entirely regular with you, you will receive an appointment in the +German Secret Service and five thousand dollars in advance.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Is it usual to—change sides so suddenly?’ I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You’re not changing sides,’ she explained. ‘You’ve never had a side, in the +diplomatic sense. It is entirely regular in diplomacy for you to take + +such a course as is proposed; there is nothing unusual about it. And, my dear +Mrs. Clephane, a position in the German Foreign Secret Service is a rare plum, +I can assure you, even though you may not care to be—active in it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally, I understood. Mrs. Spencer thinking me the same type as herself, +without conscience, character, or morals, had evolved this plan either to test +me or to ensnare me. To test me, because she is jealous of you; or to ensnare +me because she wants to win out diplomatically—or both, it may be. I am a poor +hand at pretence; but I played the game, as you would say, to the best of my +ability. So I seemed to fall in with her scheme; France was nothing to me; I +had been given no option in the matter of accepting the letter and attempting +its delivery; I had done all and more than could be expected of a disinterested +person; I had lost the letter but through no fault of mine. I was acquitted of +further responsibility; was at liberty to choose. And Mrs. Buissard agreed with +me in everything. In the end, I accepted the spurious letter for delivery to +the French Ambassador.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” Harleston applauded. “You’re learning + +the method of diplomacy very rapidly; fire with fire, ruse with ruse, deceit +with deceit—anything for the object in hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“It went against me to do it,” she admitted, “but I’ll pay them in their own +coin—or something to that effect. Of course, I’ve no intention of delivering +the letter to the French Embassy. I’ll deliver it to you instead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Delightful!” Harleston exclaimed. “You’re a bully diplomat. However, I’m not +so sure that Spencer ever imagined her letter would reach the Marquis. She’s +playing for something else, though what is by no means clear. Let us have a +look at the letter; maybe it will help.” +</p> + +<p> +She stood beside him as he cut the envelope and he took out the single sheet of +paper—on which was an assortment of letters, set down separately and without +relation to words. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it,” said she, “a scrambled alphabet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Looks like it!” he smiled. “As a matter of fact, however, it’s in the +Blocked-Out Square cipher—like the original lett—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then they could read the original?” she cut in. +</p> + +<p> +“Not unless they have its particular key-word—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; I remember now,” said she. “Go on!” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no ‘go on,’” he explained. “Nor would it help matters if there were. +This letter is spurious; there is nothing to find from it, even if we could +translate it. It’s intended as a plant; either for us or for the Marquis; but I +fancy, for us—so with your permission we will waste no time on it further than +to keep alert for its purpose. When were you to receive the five thousand +dollars?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know!” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“And the appointment to the German Secret Service?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; she didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I was too much occupied with +meeting her on her own ground and playing the game. I was crazy to get the +letter so I could show it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which doubtless was what she too wanted; I can’t see through her scheme—unless +it is to muddy the water while the main play is being pulled off. And our men +haven’t discovered a single material thing, though they have had Spencer and +all the rest of the gang under shadow since the morning after the cab affair.” +</p> + +<p> +The telephone buzzed. Mrs. Clephane answered it. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mr. Harleston is here,” she said, passing the receiver to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello!” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you make it convenient to drop around here sometime this evening?” Major +Ranleigh inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Will ten o’clock do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be there,” said Harleston. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>XVII—In The Taxi</h2> + +<p> +At ten o’clock Harleston walked into Ranleigh’s office. +</p> + +<p> +“I just wish to ask,” said the Major, “if you want us to pick up the man who +met Mrs. Spencer this afternoon. It’s against your orders, I know, but this +chap can be arrested without resulting complications, I think. He’s an +American.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is he?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Snodgrass, an ex-Captain in the Army; a man of seeming independent means, who +lives at the Boulogne.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m acquainted with him,” returned Harleston. “I can’t think that he’s +crooked. I reckon Spencer’s figure and face attracted him—or probably he has +known her in Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only giving you the facts: he’s the first man, other than those of her +entourage, that she has met since we’ve had her under surveillance. + +It was at Union Station, this afternoon. She went there alone, after loitering +for an hour through the shops of F Street. In the train-shed she chanced, +seemingly by the veriest accident, upon Snodgrass. He almost bumped into her as +they rounded the news-stand. From their gaiety they are old acquaintances; and +after a word he turned and accompanied her to the cab-stand and put her in a +taxi. As far as the shadow saw, there was no letter or papers passed—only +conversation. And what he managed to overhear of it was seemingly quite +innocent of value to us. He called her Madeline and she called him Billy, which +isn’t his name, and invited him to Paris; so they must be pretty well +acquainted. They are to meet at one o’clock tomorrow. That’s the first matter +to report. The second is that Marston is spying around the French Embassy. He +has walked up Sixteenth Street frequently since four o’clock, and never once +glanced at the big marble mansion when he thought anyone was looking. His eyes +were busy enough other times. Also he visited, after dark, Paublo’s +Eating-House in the Division, and had a talk with Jimmy-the-Snake—a +professional burglar of the best class. We are watching The Snake, + +of course. Something will be done at the French Embassy tonight, I imagine. +Finally, at nine o’clock, Marston went to Carpenter’s residence and was +admitted. He came out fifteen minutes later, and returned to the Chateau. I +assume that Carpenter will tell you of this errand.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall be done as to Snodgrass—also as to Mrs. Spencer and one o’clock +tomorrow?” Ranleigh asked. “Do you wish me to prevent the meeting?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Harleston, after a little consideration; “simply keep them in view +and follow them. I can’t imagine Snodgrass being concerned in this affair. It’s +the lady he’s after, not her mission. It’s likely he doesn’t even know she’s in +the Secret Service. However, keep an eye on them; I may be mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +The telephone buzzed. Ranleigh answered, then passed the instrument across to +Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Harleston?... This is Carpenter. I’ve just had a most amazing +proposition made to me. It will keep until morning, but drop around at the +Department about nine-thirty and I’ll unburden myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it Marston?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly; however did you guess it?” +</p> + +<p> +“However did you guess I was with Ranleigh?” Harleston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t guess; I called Mrs. Clephane, told her I wanted you—and presto! +There’s small trick about that, old fox—except in knowing your quarry. So +long—and don’t!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t mind, Carpenter, I’ll stop on my way home. I’m just beginning to +be interested.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come along!” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Carpenter—to explain a Marston proposition,” Harleston remarked, pushing back +the instrument. +</p> + +<p> +“They are muddying the water all around,” Ranleigh commented. “So I imagine +they are about to make a get-away with the goods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Try to, Ranleigh, try to,” Harleston amended. “They won’t make a get-away so +long as we have Madame Spencer in our midst. Keep your eye on the dark-haired +loveliness; with her in the landscape the goods are still here. Now for +Carpenter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me to suggest a taxi!” Ranleigh + +observed. “It’s just as well that you shouldn’t wander about alone on the +well-lighted streets of the National Capital—” +</p> + +<p> +“You think I might be suspended by the Interstate Commerce Commission, or +enjoined by the Federal Trades Commission, or be violating the Clayton +Anti-Trust Act?” +</p> + +<p> +“You might be any and all of them, God knows—as well as contrary to some +paternal act of a non-thinking, theoretical, and subservient Congress. However, +I’m pinning my faith to you and hoping for the best; Jimmy-the-Snake is +cruising whether and whence and wherefore.” +</p> + +<p> +“Also besides and among!” Harleston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Seriously, I mean it about The Snake,” Ranleigh repeated; “and you’d better +have this with you also,” taking a small automatic from a drawer of his desk +and handing it across. “You may have need of it; if you do, it will be very +convenient.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston, descending from the taxi, found Carpenter waiting for him on the +front piazza. +</p> + +<p> +“Your friend Marston is a very pleasant chap,” he remarked; “also he has a most +astonishing nerve. He actually tried to bribe me for a copy of the Clephane +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you meet it?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I was at a loss how to meet it—whether to be indignant and order him out, or +to be acquiescently non-committal. I chose the latter course; and after a few +preliminary feelers he came out with his offer: five thousand dollars for +liberty to make a copy of the original letter. I thought a moment, then came +back at him with the counter proposition: if he would secure the key-word from +the French Embassy, I would obtain the letter; then together we would make the +translation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Delightful!” Harleston applauded. “What did he say to that?” +</p> + +<p> +“What could he do but accept? It was fair, and he had premised his offer by a +solemn assurance that the United States was not involved!” +</p> + +<p> +“Delightful!” said Harleston again. “I reckon you’ve seen the last of Marston.” +</p> + +<p> +“He said he would have the key-word by tomorrow night or sooner,” Carpenter +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you parted like fellow conspirators,” Harleston laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; suspicious of each other and ready for anything. We were strictly +professional. Diplomatic manners and distrustful hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think that Marston will try for the key-word?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do! He probably has it, or rather Spencer has it. Also I think he will +submit it for a test with the letter. He knows his attempt to bribe me failed, +and that the only way he can have access to the letter is to come with the +key-word. And you need not fear that I shall let him copy the letter until +after I’ve tested the key-word and found it correct.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the letter?” Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Locked in the burglar-proof safe in my office.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows the combination?” +</p> + +<p> +“Spendel, my confidential clerk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Trustworthy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would as soon suspect myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good! Now, another thing: do you know Fred Snodgrass, an ex-Captain of +the Army, who lives at the Boulogne?” +</p> + +<p> +“Casually,” said Carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ever suspect him of being in the German pay?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. However, he is an intimate friend of Von Swinkle, the Second Secretary—if +that’s any indication.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather the reverse, I should say. However, + +he met Madeline Spencer yesterday in Union Station. The meeting was apparently +accidental, and so far as his shadow could see or hear was entirely innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I distrust the apparently accidental and the entirely innocent—in diplomacy,” +Carpenter remarked. “We should keep an eye on Snodgrass.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile what are <i>you</i> doing as to the French key-word—trying for it?” +Harleston asked, going toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +Carpenter nodded. “I’ve got my lines out. I hope to land it in a few days. If +Marston has it, or gets it earlier, so much the better for us.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston had walked a block before he recollected that he was obligated to +Ranleigh to go in a taxi. The one in which he had come from Headquarters he had +dismissed, not knowing how long he would be at Carpenter’s, and he had +neglected to telephone for another. He would not go back to Carpenter’s; and, +anyway, it was nonsense always to be guarding himself from the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +He had not a thing they wanted, nor did he know aught that would be of use to +them; and his directorship of the affair was not of great importance; + +another, if he knew the facts, could take his place and see the matter through. +That was the important point, however. Time was exceedingly material; and if +the Spencer gang caused him to disappear for a few days, they would have a free +hand until Ranleigh or Carpenter awoke to the situation. It was not exactly +just to the cause for him to take unnecessary chances. A drug store was but a +short distance up the street, on the other side; he would telephone from it for +a taxi. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later, with the honk of a horn, a yellow taxi rounded the corner and +bore his way. +</p> + +<p> +He raised his stick to the driver, in event of him being free—and stepped out +from the sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +The man shook his head in negation and the machine flashed by—leaving Harleston +staring after it with a somewhat surprised and very much puzzled frown. +</p> + +<p> +Madeline Spencer was in the taxi—alone. Furthermore, she had not seen him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>XVIII—Doubt</h2> + +<p> +At N, the next cross-street, the taxi turned west. Instantly Harleston made for +the corner. When he got there, the machine was swinging north into Connecticut +Avenue. He ran down N Street at the top of his speed. When he reached the +avenue the car was not in sight, nor was there any one on the street as far as +Dupont Circle; and as thoroughfares radiate from the Circle as the spokes of a +wheel from the hub, the taxi could have gone in practically any direction. +</p> + +<p> +So he gave over running—running after a taxi-cab was not in his line—and +resumed his walk northward. At Dupont Circle he found a lone cab with a drowsy +negro on the box; who came quickly to life, however, at his approach. +</p> + +<p> +“Cab, seh, cab?” he solicited. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way did the yellow taxi go that just came up Connecticut Avenue?” +Harleston asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Out Massachu’ts abenu’, seh, yass seh.—Cab, seh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Drive out Massachusetts Avenue,” Harleston directed, getting in. “If you see a +taxi, get close to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do hit, seh, yass seh!” said the negro, as he climbed on the box and +jerked the lines. +</p> + +<p> +But though they went out the avenue to beyond Sheridan Circle, and back again, +and along the streets north of P and west of Twentieth, no taxi was seen—nor +any trace of Madeline Spencer. They drove over the route for more than an +hour—and never raised a yellow taxi nor a skirt. Finally Harleston abandoned +the search and headed the cab for the Collingwood. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Williams was on duty when he entered, and she signalled him to the desk. +</p> + +<p> +“The Chateau has been trying to get you for the last half-hour,” said she. +“Shall I call them?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you please,” he replied, “I’ll wait here.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently she nodded to Harleston; he stepped into the booth and closed the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Mr. Harleston,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“I recognize your voice, Guy, dear,” came + +Madeline Spencer’s soft tones. “I’d know it <i>anywhere</i>, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“The same to you, my lady,” Harleston returned. “Was that what you were calling +me for?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” she laughed. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m back at the Chateau. +I thought you might be interested, you know; you sprinted so rapidly up N +Street, and spent so much time driving around in a cab searching for me, that I +assume it will be a very great relief to you to know that I am returned. It was +such a satisfaction, Guy, to feel that you were so solicitous for my safety, +and I appreciate it, my dear, I appreciate it. Meanwhile, you might wish to get +busy as to my <i>alter ego</i>. I saw her going up Sixteenth Street, as I was +returning—a little after eleven o’clock. Maybe <i>she</i> needs assistance, +Guy; you never can tell. See you tomorrow, old enemy. Good-bye for tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say—are you there, Madeline?” Harleston ejaculated; then asked again. When +no one answered he hung up the receiver and came from the booth. Spencer, that +time, had put one over him; two, maybe, for he <i>was</i> concerned about Mrs. + +Clephane. Spencer had gone without her shadow, been free to transact her +business, and returned—and all the time she knew of passing him and his pursuit +of her, and was enjoying his discomfiture. To add a trifle more uneasiness, she +had thrown in the matter of Mrs. Clephane. Probably it was false; yet he could +not be sure and it troubled him. All of which, he was aware, Mrs. Spencer +intended—and took a devilish joy in doing. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston made a couple of turns up and down the room; then he sat down and +drummed a bit on the table; finally he reached for the telephone. It was very +late, but he would call her—she would understand. +</p> + +<p> +He got the Chateau and, giving his name, asked whether Mrs. Clephane was on the +first floor of the hotel. In a few minutes the answer came: she was not; should +they give him her apartment? He said yes. Presently a sleepy voice answered. He +recognized it as Marie—the maid—and had some difficulty in convincing her of +his identity. He did it at last only by speaking French to her—which, as he had +hitherto addressed her only in French, was not extraordinary. +</p> + +<p> +And, being convinced, she answered promptly + +enough that Mrs. Clephane was not in—she had gone down-stairs about two hours +ago telling her not to wait up. She had no idea where Mrs. Clephane went; she +had said nothing about leaving the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask her to call me at the Collingwood the moment she comes in,” said +Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +Then he got Ranleigh and told him of the Spencer episode and of Mrs. Clephane’s +disappearance. +</p> + +<p> +“You would better put Mrs. Clephane under lock and key—or else stay with her +and keep her from rash adventures,” Ranleigh commented. +</p> + +<p> +“I quite agree with you,” said Harleston. “Meanwhile I might inquire where was +Mrs. Spencer’s shadow while she was taxiing up the avenue?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fancy he was on his job, though you may not have seen him,” Ranleigh +replied. “His report in the morning will tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would sooner have a report as to Mrs. Clephane’s whereabouts,” Harleston +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t see what good she would be to them now?” said Ranleigh. “She hasn’t a +thing they want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Granted; yet where is she? moreover, she promised me to do nothing unusual and +to beware of traps.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has the feminine right to reconsider,” Ranleigh reminded him. “However, +I’ll instruct the bureau to get busy and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait until morning,” Harleston interjected. “If Mrs. Clephane hasn’t appeared +by nine o’clock, I’ll telephone you.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston leaned back in his chair frowning. Washington was not a large city, +yet under certain circumstances she could be lost in it—and stay lost, with all +the efforts of the police quite unavailing to find her. It seemed improbable +that she had been abducted; as Ranleigh had said, they had nothing to gain from +her. She could neither advance their plans nor hinder them; she was purely a +negative quantity. Spencer might be striking at him through Mrs. Clephane, +intending to hold her surety for his neutrality, or to feed her own revenge, or +maybe both. Yet, somehow, he could not hold to the notion; it was too petty for +their game. Moreover, Spencer knew that it would be ineffective, and she was +not one to waste time in methods, petty or inefficient. Of course, it + +might be that she had merely twitted him about the episode, as a jealous woman +would do. +</p> + +<p> +And yet what could have taken Mrs. Clephane from the hotel at such an hour, and +without apprising her maid; and why was she driving up Sixteenth Street? Or was +Spencer’s talk just a lie; intended to throw a scare into him and give him a +bad quarter of an hour—until he would venture to call up Mrs. Clephane’s +apartment? And if he did not venture, the bad quarter would last the balance of +the night. At all events and whatever her idea Madeline Spencer had succeeded +in disturbing him to an unusual degree—and all because of Mrs. Clephane. +</p> + +<p> +At last he sprang up, threw on a light top-coat, grabbed a hat, and made for +the door. He would go down to the Chateau and investigate. Anything was +preferable to this miserable waiting. +</p> + +<p> +The corridor door was swinging shut behind him, when his telephone buzzed. He +flung back the door and reached the receiver in a bound. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot to say, Guy,” came Madeline Spencer’s purring voice, “that I’ll tell +you in the morning, + +if you care to pay me a visit, how my <i>alter ego</i> came to be on Sixteenth +Street at so unusual an hour. It’s rather interesting as to details. By the +way, you must be sitting beside the receiver expecting a call; you answered +with such amazing promptness!” and she laughed softly. “Shall I expect you at +eleven, or will you be content to wait until we go to the Department at four?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had just finished talking with Mrs. Clephane when you called,” Harleston +replied imperturbably, then laughed mockingly. “I’ll be at the Chateau for you +at half-after-three; you can give me the details then. I shall be delighted, +Madeline, to compare your details with hers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder!” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you wonder?” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Whether you are—well, no matter; we’ll take it up this afternoon. <i>Tout à +l’heure, Monsieur Harleston</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +He was turning once more toward the door, when the telephone rang again. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that Mr. Harleston?” said Mrs. Clephane’s lovely voice—and Harleston’s grin +almost flowed into the transmitter. +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed!” he responded—then severely: + +“Where have you been, my lady? You have given me a most horrible fright.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cry your pardon, my lord; I’ll not transgress again,” she laughed. “And if +you don’t scold me I’ll tell you something—something I’m sure will be worth +even a diplomat’s hearing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything you would tell would be well worth any diplomat’s hearing,” said he; +“only I shall always prefer to be the diplomat on duty when you are doing the +telling!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s deliciously nice, Mr. Harleston; I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you now?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“At the Chateau—in my apartment. Anything more?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing; except to pray you to be prudent and not do it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll promise—until I see you.” She lowered her voice—“Are you there, Mr. +Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m here—since I can’t be with you there,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly not! I’m not exactly in receiving attire. Meanwhile the morning—and +Madame Brunette’s doings. Good-night, <i>Mon camarade</i>.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>XIX—Marston</h2> + +<p> +At nine o’clock the next morning, Marston tapped gently on the door of Madeline +Spencer’s apartment, and was immediately admitted by the demure maid; who +greeted him with a smile, which he repaid with a kiss—several of them, +indeed—and an affectionate and pressing arm to her shapely and slender waist. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose monsieur wants to see my mistress,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Now that I’ve seen you, yes, little one,” Marston returned, with another kiss. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen me, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not half long enough, my love; but business before pleasure. There’s another +now, so run along and do your devoir.” +</p> + +<p> +She fetched him a tiny slap across his cheek, for which she was caught and made +to suffer again; then she wriggled loose, and, with a flirty backward + +kick at him, disappeared through the inner doorway. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment she returned, dropped him a bit of curtsy, and informed him that +her mistress would receive him. +</p> + +<p> +He rewarded her with another caress, which she accepted with assumed +shyness—and a wicked little pinch. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll pay you later for the pinch!” he tossed back, softly. +</p> + +<p> +She answered with an affected shrug and a wink. +</p> + +<p> +“Elise <i>is</i> remarkably pretty!” Madeline Spencer remarked when he entered +the boudoir. She was sitting up in bed, eating her rolls and coffee—a +bewildering negligee of cerise and cream heightening the effect of her +dead-white colouring and raven-black hair. +</p> + +<p> +Marston drew in his breath sharply, then sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>you</i> are ravishingly beautiful, my lady,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“You like this robe?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I—like you; what you may wear is incidental. It merely increases the effect of +your wonderful personality.” +</p> + +<p> +“My good Marston!” she smiled. “What a + +faithful friend you are; always seeing my few good points and being blind to my +many bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“And being always,” he added, bowing low, “your most humble and loving +servant.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it—and I am very, very grateful.” She put aside the tray and languidly +stretched her lithe length under the sheet. “What have you to report, Marston?” +she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I have to report, madame,” said Marston, with strict formality of a +subordinate to his chief, “that I have procured the French code-book.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good work!” she exclaimed, sitting up sharply. “However did you manage it?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the assistance of one Jimmy-the-Snake. He visited the French Embassy last +night, and persuaded the safe to yield up the code. It would have been better, +I admit, to copy the code and then replace it, but it wasn’t possible. He had +just sufficient time to grab the book and make a get-away. Someone was coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve accomplished enough even though we don’t obtain the letter” she +approved. “I shall recommend you for promotion, Marston.” +</p> + +<p> +She took the thin book and glanced through it until she came to the key-words +of the Blocked-Out + +Square—the last key-word was the one the Count de M—— had given her. After all, +the Count was not so bad; and he was handsome; thus far dependable; and he was, +seemingly at least, in love with her. She might do worse.... Yet he was not +Harleston; there never was but one equal to Harleston, and that one was lost to +her. She shut her lips tightly and a far-away look came into her eyes. And now +Harleston, too, was lost to her; and—she lifted her hands resignedly, and +laughed a mirthless laugh. As she came back to reality, she met Marston’s +curiously courteous glance with a bit of a shrug. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon my momentary abstraction,” she said softly; “I was pursuing a train of +thought—” +</p> + +<p> +“And you didn’t overtake it,” he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I can never overtake it. I haven’t the requisite speed. Did you ever miss your +two greatest opportunities, Marston?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve missed my greatest,” Marston replied instantly. “Oh—it was out of my +class, so I never started.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may have been a mistake, my friend,” she observed; “one never can tell +until he’s tried it—and failed. I mightn’t have missed had I gone + +on another schedule. However, the past is to profit by, and to forget if we +can’t remember it pleasantly. So let us return to the business in hand, +Marston; it’s a rattling business and a fascinating, and at it you and I are +not to be altogether despised,” throwing him a bewitching smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t!” he exclaimed. “I’m not stone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me, my friend!” putting out her hand to him. +</p> + +<p> +Marston simply bowed, “I think it wiser to refrain,” he said gently, and bowed +again. “By all means let us to the business in hand.” +</p> + +<p> +He understood her nature better than she thought. The sympathy in her was, for +the moment, real enough, but it was only for the moment; the love of admiration +was the controlling note—what she sought and what she played for. She felt the +sympathy while it lasted, but it was the effect as to herself, the selfish +effect, that inspired the sensation. When a beautiful woman stoops to sympathy, +it is rare indeed that she does not thereby arouse admiration for herself. +Madeline Spencer may have been cold and shrewd and selfish and calculating, yet +with it all she was + +warm-hearted; but the warm heart never got away with the cool head—unless it +was with that head’s permission and for its benefit. She played men—and men +played her—but the man that had won was not yet to be found. Two only of those +whom she tried had failed to succumb to her fascinating alluringness—and these +two she had loved, and still did both love and hate. +</p> + +<p> +“Returning then to the code-book and the letter,” said she. “How about the +latter; have you found Carpenter susceptible to persuasion?” +</p> + +<p> +“To persuasion, no; to exchange, yes. Our agreement is that if I provide the +key-word, he will provide the letter in question. At ten o’clock this morning +the trick is to be turned.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if the translation concerns the United States, he simply would turn the +key upon you and hold you prisoner until the matter is cleared up.” +</p> + +<p> +“One must take some risks,” Marston observed. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Which of these do you fancy is the key-word?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall try them in turn, beginning with the last: <i>à l’aube du jour</i>. +I’ve a hunch that we’ll end there.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that you’ll go into temporary confinement?” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“My hunch stops with the key-word!” he smiled back. +</p> + +<p> +“Your hunch as to the key-word is partially correct,” she replied slowly, “but +it does not, however, reach quite to the last conclusion. I may not explain +now, Marston. Do you go to the meeting, with the code-book as your only +exhibit. It should be indisputable proof of your good faith, and our honest +belief that the letter does not concern the United States. Moreover, you run no +danger of imprisonment, for you’ll not effect a translation. But you must +obtain a copy of the letter; it’s but a fair exchange for the French code, you +know; and you’re permitted—nay you’re authorized, in the interest of the +service—to allow Carpenter to copy the book if he will give you the letter to +copy. Furthermore, you may proceed leisurely in the process; there is no +particular haste; while they are occupied with the letter matter, there is apt +to be less activity along other lines. Only get a <i>copy of the letter</i>; I +have the key-word.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have the key-word!” Marston exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. “I’m quite sure of it; and the code-book confirms me. It is up to +you to procure the letter; I’ll do the rest, if any rest is necessary. We may +be headed for Europe by evening, Marston; in which event, the cipher letter is +of no consequence to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be glad to get back to Paris?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall, indeed—won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite content anywhere, so long as I am working with you,” he answered. It +was much as a faithful dog would wag his tail and snuggle up for a pat of the +hand. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled straight into his eyes—a frank, appreciative smile, as though an +intimate camaraderie existed between them, and would never be violated by +either. She would have been in danger had she smiled that way at some men; they +would not have remained quiescent. And a little more aggression by Marston +might have been more conducive for success—less of the faithful dog and more of +the independent subordinate and the equal human. As it was, he was only a +plaything. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my friend, if you’re done you may go,” she said briskly. “I must dress, +and you’re rather <i>de trop</i> at such a time, however much you may be + +welcome at another. And, Marston, don’t miss the copy of the letter; I’ll +expect you with it at seven; we’ll make the translation together, either here +or on the train to New York. You’re to accompany me, you know. I’ve an +appointment at one, and another at four, but I’ll be here at seven. If I’m +detained, wait.” +</p> + +<p> +When Marston had gone she turned over and composed herself for sleep—it was two +hours until she had need to array herself for luncheon and Snodgrass.... Yes, +Snodgrass was a very good-looking chap; her drive with him last night had been +very satisfactory; he had the requisite wealth, so it might be just as well to +let him become fascinated. It would be at least a momentary diversion; +something to occupy her for the loss of Harleston. She closed her eyes—and +shivered ever so little. Damn Mrs. Clephane! But for her she would not have +lost him. +</p> + +<p> +She flung off the cover and sprang up. There was a chance left and she would +try it. If it failed, she would not lose more than she had already lost. If it +won, she won Harleston! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>XX—Playing The Game</h2> + +<p> +She threw a kimono around her and hastened to the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +“Get me,” she said to the hotel central, “Mr. Harleston at the Collingwood, the +Cosmopolitan Club, or the State Department.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll call you,” said the operator—and Madeline Spencer leaned back in her +chair and waited. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the call came. +</p> + +<p> +“I have Mr. Harleston for you,” said the operator and switched on the trunk. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you, Guy?—this is Madeline Spencer,” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m at the Collingwood, Madeline. Anything I can do for you?” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Be here in an hour; I must see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Important?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll be there at ten-thirty.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re always good!” said she softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not always,” he laughed, “but I will be this time.” +</p> + +<p> +She dressed in feverish haste, yet with great care and attention to effects. +Her gown was a lustreless black silk, trimmed with gold and made as plain as +her modiste would—and the styles permitted. Her hair was piled high, with an +elongated twist; her dead-white complexion was unmarred by powder or rouge, and +beneath the transparent skin the blood pulsed softly pink. +</p> + +<p> +Her toilet finished, and passed upon in the mirror, she sent her maid on a +shopping expedition which would occupy her until noon, and even hurried her +off. She wanted no one about, not even Elise, when she made her last play at +Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +Elise gone five minutes before the hour, she compelled herself to outward +tranquillity—while she strove for inward calm. And succeeding wonderfully +well—so well, indeed, that none would ever have suspected the agitation +seething under the cold placidity. Its only evidence was in the gentle swing of +her narrow foot, and the nervous play of her slender fingers. And even these + +indications disappeared at the knock on the corridor door; and she went almost +blithely and flung it back—to Harleston bowing on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +“Punctual as usual!” she greeted. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I came to one who is always punctual,” he replied, taking her hand, +nor dropping it until they were well inside the reception room. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, old enemy,” said she, sinking into a chair and pointing to +another—which she had been careful to place just within reach. “You’ve nothing +much to do for a short while, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve nothing much to do any time except to keep an eye on you!” he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I so difficult?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You keep me fairly occupied at all times—and sometimes rather more.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least I endeavour not to offend your eye!” she smiled, her head on her +hand, her eyes on him. +</p> + +<p> +“The only difficulty is that you are too alluring,” he returned. “One is prone +to forget that his business is not to admire but to observe dispassionately and +to block your plans. You’re much too beautiful, Madeline; you usually make + +monkeys of all of us, and while we’re held fascinated by your loveliness you +scoop the prize. It’s not fair, my lady; you play with—loaded dice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flatterer!” she said, melting into another pose. +</p> + +<p> +“Flatterer!” he exclaimed. “If you could but see yourself now, you would +confess the truth of the indictment. You’re the loveliest thing, and you grow +lovelier every day and younger. Positively, Madeline, you’re a—” he paused for +words and raised his hands helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a what?” she murmured, leaning a bit toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the word; there isn’t one adequate to the—subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“You actually mean that?” she asked, gliding into another posture, even more +alluring. +</p> + +<p> +“You know I mean it,” he declared. “Haven’t we agreed to be honest with each +other?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been honest!” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Meaning that I’ve not been?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you?” she inflected, “I wonder, Guy.” +</p> + +<p> +She might just as well have asked direct his feeling for Mrs. Clephane—and he +understood perfectly the question. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded, slowly but none-the-less definitely. +</p> + +<p> +She took a cigarette and lighted it with careful attention, then blew the smoke +sharply against the incandescent coal. +</p> + +<p> +“Guy,” said she, “I’m about to speak plainly; please don’t misunderstand; I’m +simply a woman, now—a weak woman, perhaps; it will be for you to judge me at +the end.” She smiled faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a weak woman, Madeline,” he replied. “Your worst enemy would not venture +to call you that.” +</p> + +<p> +He wondered what more was coming, and at what directed. Her tone and attitude +and deprecation of self were new to him. He had never seen her so; always she +was the embodification of calm, self-reliance, poise, never flustered, never +disturbed. A weak woman! It was so absurd as to be ridiculous, and she was +aware of it. So what was the play with so bald a notice to beware? +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Guy,” said she. “You think it’s a play, but it isn’t. It’s the simple +truth I’m about to tell you, and as truth I pray you take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take it as you wish it taken,” he responded, more than ever mystified. +</p> + +<p> +She carefully laid her cigarette on the receiver, then arose and leaned against +the table, her hands + +behind her. He arose also, but she declined the courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your seat,” she said, “and don’t be alarmed, I’m not preparing to have +you daggered or garroted. Entirely the reverse, Guy. I’ve decided to offer +terms: to capitulate; to throw the whole thing over; to betray my mission and +get out of the service forever. No, don’t smile incredulously, I mean it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” thought Harleston. “What is coming and where do we go?” What he +said, however, was: +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t you be incredulous if our positions were reversed? Madeline Spencer, +the very Queen of the Service, betray her trust? Impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Guy,” said she. “I’ve never yet been false to the hand that paid +me—and sometimes <i>I’ve</i> paid dearly for keeping faith. Now for the first +time,—and the last time, too, for if successful the service will know me no +longer—I am ready and willing deliberately to make a failure of my mission, if +you will take that failure as conclusive evidence of my good faith.” She bent a +bit forward and threw into her words and + +tones and attitude every grace that she possessed. “Will you do it, Guy?” +</p> + +<p> +“When you ask that way,” said Harleston, “who of mankind would refuse you +anything on earth.” +</p> + +<p> +She was alluring, wonderfully alluring. Time was, and that lately, when he +would have succumbed. But that time was no longer; beside the raven-hair and +dead-white cheek was now another face, with peach-blow cheek and the ruddy +tresses—and the peach-blow cheek and ruddy tresses prevailed. And so he had +responded, sincere enough, in tribute to her loveliness and in memory of what +had been. +</p> + +<p> +And Madeline Spencer detected the absent note; but she ignored it. She would go +through with it—make her bid: +</p> + +<p> +“Almost you say that as though you meant it!” she smiled, and forced his hand. +Now he must either deny or affirm. +</p> + +<p> +“I do mean it,” he replied. It was all in the game, and he was obligated to be +truthful only to Mrs. Clephane. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him contemplatively, trying to read behind his words. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Madeline?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder!” she said speculatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t I answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you can answer—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then ask me,” he invited, seeking to get something that would afford him an +inkling of her aim. Assuredly she had him guessing. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she looked him straight in the eyes; then suddenly her glance +wavered, a faint flush crept from neck to cheek, and she smiled almost +bashfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Guy,” said she, “I ask you to forget our profession if you can, and take what +I am about to say as free from guile or expediency—and of supreme importance to +me. I’m just a simple woman now, with a woman’s desires and affection and +hopes. I’ve come to the parting of the ways: on one side lie power, excitement, +loneliness; on the other, contentment, peace, companionship. I’ll choose the +latter, if you’re willing. You have but to say the word and I’ll give up +everything, confess what I’m here for, what I’ve done, and what is arranged for +in the future.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon what condition, Madeline?” he smiled, + +more puzzled than ever. He was almost ready to believe she meant it. +</p> + +<p> +She caught her breath, hesitated, blushed furiously—and answered softly: +</p> + +<p> +“Upon the condition that you marry me.” +</p> + +<p> +For the instant Harleston was too amazed for words; and, despite all his +training in dissimulation, his surprise was evidenced in his face. Small wonder +he had been unable to make out the play—it was not a play; she meant it. She +was ready to throw her mission overboard to attain her personal end. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you marry me, old enemy?” she whispered, putting out her hand to him and +smiting him with a ravishing smile—a smile such as she had had for but one +other man. It had been utterly lost on that other, but it had almost won with +Harleston; and it might have won now with him but for another’s smile, she of +the ruddy tresses and peach-blow cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Madeline,” said he slowly, holding her hand with intimate pressure, “I +cannot permit you to betray yourself for me. You are—” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite old enough in the ways of the world,” she interjected, “to know my own +mind. I love + +you, Guy, and unless I’ve mistaken your attitude, you love me. When our minds +meet in such a matter, why should anything be permitted to intervene?” Her hand +still lay in his; her eyes held his; her personality fairly enveloped them. +With lips a little parted, she bent toward him. “It’s a bit unusual, dear, for +the woman to propose, to the man, but we are an unusual two, and the business +of life has shaken us free from the conventions of the drawing-room and frothy +society. With us there need be no cant nor pretence nor false modesty, because +there is not the slightest possibility of misunderstanding.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet, Madeline, we may not defy the right and permit you to sacrifice +yourself,” he opposed. “There is a standard which neither cant nor pretence nor +false modesty can affect—the standard of honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Honour!” she inflected. “What is honour, such honour, when a woman loves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing—and therefore must the love abide; honour can’t abide once it is +lost.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid it’s not so much my honour as your love,” +she said. “A week ago, and I would have had a different answer—in + +fact, I would have been the one to answer and <i>you</i> the one to ask. You +know it quite as well as I; for when you left me that afternoon in Paris, +expecting to return in the evening, you were ready to speak and I was ready +with the answer. Then fate, in the person of an unsympathetic Foreign Office +intervened, and sent you on the instant to St. Petersburg. We never met again +until in this hotel. I have not changed, but you have. I fear your answer does +not ring quite true; it isn’t like you. Why is it, Guy?” +</p> + +<p> +Never a reference to Mrs. Clephane; never an intimation—and yet Mrs. Clephane +might as well have been in the room, so living was her presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Madeline,” said he, lingeringly freeing her hand, “I hardly know what to say +nor how to say it. I’m embarrassed, frightfully embarrassed; yet you have been +frank with me so I must be frank with you—even though it hurts. I’m distressed +to have been such a bungler, such a miserable bungler, such a blind fool, +indeed. The false impression must be due to me; assuredly, without the most +justifiable cause you would not have drawn the erroneous inference. And a man +who is responsible for that inference with a woman of + +your experience and ability, Madeline, must be more or less a fool, even though +his intentions have been absolutely correct.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which leads where, Guy?” she mocked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nowhere,” he replied, “I’m trying to say something, and can’t say it. But you +know what it is, Madeline. I’m sorry, supremely sorry. Let us forget this +little talk, and go on as though it hadn’t occurred—playing our parts in the +present game and besting the other by every means in our power. I can’t accept +your offer, because I cannot pay the consideration. It still must be <i>à +outrance</i> with us, Madeline; no quarter given and no quarter asked.” +</p> + +<p> +For a space she looked at him with cold repellence, eyes black as night. Then +her eyes narrowed and she laughed, a mirthlessly sarcastic laugh, so low that +Harleston barely heard it. +</p> + +<p> +“Is red hair then prettier than black, Mr. Harleston?” she asked mockingly; “or +is Mrs. Clephane’s character whiter than mine?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not worthy of you, Madeline,” Harleston reproved. “You’re a good +sport; hitherto you’ve taken the count, as well as given it, without the +flutter of an eyelash—and over far more + +serious matters than your humble servant, who hasn’t anything to give him +value.” +</p> + +<p> +Again the sarcastic laugh. She knew he was playing the game, two games indeed, +the diplomatic and his own. He had never forgot himself nor regarded her for +one little instant. +</p> + +<p> +“As a lecturer on morals, Mr. Harleston, you are a wonder,” she mocked; “you +have almost succeeded—nay quite, shall I say—in convincing yourself. And when +you—a man—do that, what is to be expected of a woman—who is alone in the world? +So I must accept your argument, and your conclusions, and be content with my +duty—and”—with a sudden ravishing smile—“if I best you, Guy, you will have only +yourself to blame. I won’t send Mrs. Clephane a present, nor will I wish you +joy of her, nor her of you; but <i>you</i> won’t look for it, and <i>she</i> +would think it somewhat presumptuous in me to assume to know you. These +red-headed women are the very devil, Guy, after they’ve got you landed—also +before, but in a different way.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your game, Madeline?” he smiled. It had pleased her suddenly to veer +around and resume + +the play; and far be it from him to balk her. “I’ll admit you have me +guessing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you believed me, Guy. My game was you—and I’ve lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” he replied. “I was inclined to think so at first; your fine acting +and man’s conceit, I reckon. But my conceit has been punctured, and you’ve +slipped a bit in your acting; therefore, to descend to the extremely +common-place, the jig is up.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the next lead is yours!” she laughed back. +</p> + +<p> +“That is precisely why I asked you the game—so I could make an intelligible +lead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ask Mrs. Clephane!” she suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do it,” said he—and bowed himself out. +</p> + +<p> +“Do it? Of course, you’ll do it,” Madeline Spencer gritted, as the door closed +behind him. “I’ve no chance, it seems, against a red-haired woman. The other +one also had red hair.” She seized a vase from the table at her hand, and +hurled it across the room. It crushed in fragments against the wall. “Damn Mrs. +Clephane!” she said softly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>XXI—The Key-Word</h2> + +<p> +Promptly at ten o’clock Marston walked into Carpenter’s office and sent in his +card. +</p> + +<p> +It found Carpenter pacing up and down, and frowning at a paper spread open on +his desk. At the messenger’s apologetically discreet cough, he glanced around +and took the extended card. +</p> + +<p> +“Show him in!” he snapped, and swept the paper from the desk and into a +drawer.... “Good-morning, sir!” as Marston bowed on the threshold; then, +without any preliminaries: “What success?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have the French code-book,” Marston replied. +</p> + +<p> +“With you?” +</p> + +<p> +Marston drew out the slender book. “It embraces all their codes, I believe,” he +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“H-u-m!” said Carpenter thoughtfully, retrieving + +the paper he had just swept into the drawer. “How are we to work it, Mr. +Marston?” +</p> + +<p> +“As allies,” Marston replied. “I’m perfectly willing to let you have the book +and everything in it, if you will let me have a copy of the letter. I’m +confident that the key-word is here; I’m equally confident that the letter does +not involve, either directly or indirectly, the United States. I understand +that the letter is in the cipher of the Blocked-Out Square; in this book there +are two pages and more of key-words to this Square, the last dozen or so of +which are added in writing. If the letter is in that cipher, we should have no +particular difficulty in finding the key-word. I would suggest, however, that +we first try the last word on the list—maybe we won’t have to go any farther.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Carpenter, briskly. +</p> + +<p> +The advantage was all with him. If Marston thought the letter was only a line +and that he could remember the letters used, he was in for a shock. No man +living could remember twenty spilled alphabets; and if he attempted to make a +copy it could easily be prevented. The Fifth Secretary spread the paper on the +table. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a copy of the cipher letter in question—we had it made large for +convenience,” he explained. “The original is in the safe; you’ll wish to +compare it with the copy, so we’ll have it here.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave the necessary order; when the letter was brought he passed it to +Marston. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll read the copy, if you’ll hold the original,” he said; and proceeded to +call off the letters with amazing rapidity. “Correct, isn’t it?” as he ended. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” said Marston returning the original to Carpenter. He wanted in every way +to disarm suspicion; moreover, a copy could be made more readily from a large +typewritten edition than from the small, written original. “Now for the +code-book and the last key-word—<i>à l’aube du jour</i>, I think it is ... yes, +<i>à l’aube du jour</i>, it is,” and he handed the book across. “Shall we try +it first, Mr. Carpenter?” +</p> + +<p> +“By all means,” said Carpenter. “Shall I set it down, or will you?” +</p> + +<p> +One would never have imagined from his expression or his intonation that he had +already tried <i>à l’aube du jour</i> for the key-word and failed; + +nor that why he had failed he now knew. The book was right as to the word, and +the slip that Harleston had taken from Crenshaw’s pocket-book confirmed it. +<i>À l’aube du jour</i> was not the key-word but the key-word was constructed +from it by some arbitrary rule; and that rule was susceptible of solution. +After he was free of this fellow Marston, he would solve the problem quickly +enough. It was as sure as tomorrow. The prescience was come. +</p> + +<p> +“About twenty letters should be enough for experiment?” he suggested, taking up +a test card. +</p> + +<p> +When he had written the key-word and the letters under it, he, scarcely without +reference to the Blocked-Out Square, wrote the translation. Marston did the +same, very much slower. +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t fit!” Marston announced. “You can’t make anything out of +AGELUMTONZN, and so forth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t!” Carpenter smiled—and waited. Would Marston suggest the transposed or +elided word? +</p> + +<p> +“I’m disappointed,” Marston confessed, “I thought sure we had it. Let’s try the +next key-word in the book.” +</p> + +<p> +They tried it, and the next, and all the rest. None of them translated the +letter. +</p> + +<p> +It took more than an hour; at the end, as a full measure of good faith and +because it was of no further use to him—he having preserved a copy—Marston +insisted that Carpenter retain the original of the French code-book and have a +copy made, after which the book could be returned to him at the Chateau. During +this hour and more his hand was in and out in his side coat-pocket. When he +left the room there went with him, in that pocket, a copy of the original +letter—roughly made by the sense of touch alone, yet none the less a copy and +sufficiently distinct to be decipherable. For years Marston had practised +writing in the dark and under all sorts of handicaps. In his pocket, a number +of small slips of paper and a pencil were concealed. He would write a line, +then take his hand from his pocket; after a time he would shift the page of +paper, write another line, and then another, and so on until the copy was made. +And all the while he was so frankly communicative, with apparently not the +slightest intent to obtaining a copy—even tearing up the paper on which were +the various trial translations—that + +he completely deceived Carpenter. When he left, the latter went with him to the +elevator and bowed him down. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite understand their game,” Carpenter chuckled, as he turned away, +“but it’s no matter. I took all the tricks this morning and still have a few +trumps left. I thought he certainly would try for a copy of the letter, but he +didn’t even attempt it. He may have committed it to memory, but I’ll chance +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Returning to his office he gave the code-book another careful inspection and +confirmed his impression as to its being authentic. Then he laid it aside, and +took up the letter and <i>à l’aube du jour</i>! +</p> + +<p> +First he tried it in reverse position: <i>ruoj ud ebua’l à</i>. The translation +was gibberish. Then he wrote the first and last letters, the second and next to +last, the third and the third from last, and so on. The result, too, was +gibberish. Next he dropped the first word, ‘à’ and tried the rest—still +gibberish. He dropped also the ‘l’—still gibberish. Then, in turn, the ‘a’ of +the third word the ‘d’ of the fourth, the ‘j’ of the last word—all gibberish. +Next he wrote the key-word entire but + +transposed the ‘a’ from the first letter to the last— still gibberish. He began +with the <i>aube</i>—still gibberish. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn!” said he. +</p> + +<p> +He was persuaded that the key-word was in the sentence before him; the +code-book, Crenshaw’s slip of paper, and his own hunch were convincing, yet the +combination was slow in coming. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Du jour à l’aube</i> was the next arrangement. He wrote it under the printed +words and began to apply the Square. +</p> + +<p> +The D and the A yielded A; the U and the B yielded V; the J and the C yielded +E; the O and the D yielded R; the U and the E yielded T; the R and the F +yielded I. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Averti!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Carpenter gave a soft whistle of satisfaction. French, it was—his hunch had not +deceived him. The key-word was found! +</p> + +<p> +Swiftly he worked out the rest of the cipher, setting down the letters of the +translation without regard to words. “<i>Averti</i>” was evident because it was +the first word. At the end, he had this result: +</p> + +<p> +AVERTIQUELALLEMAGNEAENGAG +</p> + +<p> +EUNOFFICIERADECELERLAFORM +</p> + +<p> +ULESECRETEDESETATSUNISEMP +</p> + +<p> +LOYEEACOLLODONNIERLAFULMI +</p> + +<p> +COTONPOURLAPOUDRESANSFUME +</p> + +<p> +EALARTILLERIEDEGROSCALIBR +</p> + +<p> +EETQUEMADELINESPENCEREMIS +</p> + +<p> +SAIREDELALLEMAGNEAPARISPH +</p> + +<p> +OTOGRAPHIECIINCLUSEAETECH +</p> + +<p> +ARGEEDELARECEVOIRNESEPEUT +</p> + +<p> +DECOUVRIRLENOMDUTRAITRESP +</p> + +<p> +ENCERESTPARTIEPOURNEWYORK +</p> + +<p> +SURLALUSITANIAQUIDOITARRI +</p> + +<p> +VERLEQUATORZEATOUTEFORCEI +</p> + +<p> +NTERCEPTEZLAFORMULEOUEMPE +</p> + +<p> +CHEZAMOINSQUELALLEMAGNENE +</p> + +<p> +LOBTIENNESPENCERSIMPORTAN +</p> + +<p> +TEALAFRANCE +</p> + +<p> +There was not the least doubt as to it being in French—the last three words, as +well as the first, proved it; also that he had the correct key-word. It only +remained now to separate the result into words. And this puzzle presented no +difficulties to Carpenter; he quickly marshalled it into form: +</p> + +<div class="letter"> + +<p> +“<i>Averti que l’Allemagne a engagé un officier à déceler la formule sécrète +des États-Unis employée à collodonnier la fulmi-coton pour la poudre sans +fumeée à l’artillerie de gros calibre; et que Madeline Spencer, émissaire de +l’Allemagne à Paris,—photographiè ci, incluse—a été de chargée la recevoir. Ne +se peut découvrir le nom du traître. Spencer est partie pour New York sur la +Lusitania qui doit arriver le quatorze. À toute force interceptez la formule; +ou empêchez à moins que l’Allemagne ne l’obtienne. Spencer pas importante à la +France.</i>” +</p> + +</div> + +<p> +And under it he wrote the English translation: “Informed Germany has induced an +officer to betray United States secret formula for colloding process of +treating gun-cotton for smokeless powder for high power guns, and that Madeline +Spencer, a German Secret agent in Paris, photograph enclosed herein, is +delegated to receive same. Cannot ascertain name of traitor. Spencer sailed +Lusitania, due New York, fourteenth. Take any means to intercept formula; or at +least to prevent Germany obtaining it. Spencer not essential to France.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Spencer not essential to France!</i> Surely this woman had great power, +either of knowledge or of friends; she resided in Paris, yet France was +reluctant to lift hand against her so long as she was on + +French soil. Well, he would turn the matter over to Harleston; let him decide +whether it was to be thumbs up or thumbs down for her Alluringness. +Furthermore, the meeting with Snodgrass now assumed much significance. +Snodgrass was an ex-army officer. Harleston must be warned at once. +</p> + +<p> +He tried for him at the Collingwood, the Cosmopolitan, the Rataplan, and +finally at the Chateau. He got him there. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you come here at once?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not well,” said Harleston, “I’ve an appointment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forget it!” Carpenter exclaimed. “I’ve found the key-word and made the +translation. It’s serious—Very well, come right in; I’ll be waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston scribbled a note to Mrs. Clephane and sent it up by a page; he would +be back in half an hour; would she meet him in the Alley. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>XXII—The Rataplan</h2> + +<p> +A moment before Harleston’s return, Madeline Spencer, stepping out of the F +Street elevator, was met by Snodgrass who had been walking up and down the +lobby. They took a taxi and sped away; followed closely by another taxi, which +their driver was most careful not to distance. A second later Harleston entered +the corridor. As he was about to greet Mrs. Clephane, a man approached him and +said: +</p> + +<p> +“They have started, sir; Burke’s just behind in a taxi—and both drivers are +wise. They’re bound for the Rataplan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Follow them and wait just outside,” Harleston ordered—and turned to Mrs. +Clephane. “I must go to the Rataplan at once,” said he. “Let us lunch there. +The end of the affair of the cab of the sleeping horse is in sight; I thought +you might like to see it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see it!” Mrs. Clephane exclaimed. “Have you found the key-word?” +</p> + +<p> +“Carpenter found it—I’ll tell you about it on the way out. Come along, little +lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why do you suspect Captain Snodgrass?” she inquired, when Harleston had +finished his account. “He would not have access to the formula, would he?” +</p> + +<p> +“The man that has access to such secrets never is the man who actually +delivers,” he explained; “he has a confederate. Snodgrass is the confederate, +we think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this secret colloding process of gun-cotton so tremendously valuable?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a secret for which any nation would give millions of dollars. It’s +admittedly the most powerful explosive ever discovered, as well as the easiest +handled. Temperature, weather, ordinary shock have absolutely no effect on it; +in fire it simply chars and doesn’t explode. Yet when it is exploded by the +proper method, lyddite, dynamite, and all the other ites, are as a gentle +zephyr in comparison. Now tell me about last night; where were you?” +</p> + +<p> +“After you left,” she explained, “I wrote some letters, and then went into the +corridor to drop them in the chute beside the elevator shaft; as I approached, +the car came down with Mrs. Spencer in it. Something impelled me to follow her; +and running back I grabbed a cloak, and dashed for the elevator, catching it on +the fly. She wasn’t in the main corridor; on a chance, I hurried to the F +Street entrance; I got there just as she stepped into a taxi and shot away. +Instantly I called another taxi and told the driver to follow the car that had +just departed. He did for a little way; but in a sudden halt of traffic at +Vermont Avenue and H Street, where, you may remember, the street is torn up, we +lost the other taxi; and though we drove around the north-west section for more +than an hour on the chance that we’d come up with it—my driver knew the other +driver—we never did come up with it. But as we rolled up to the Chateau, Mrs. +Spencer was alighting from a limousine with a tall, fine-looking, fair-haired +chap who had the walk of a military man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Snodgrass,” Harleston observed. +</p> + +<p> +“She saw me; and, with a maliciously charming + +smile, nodded and went on. In the corridor I came on some friends and we talked +awhile. Then I went up to my apartment, got your message, and telephoned to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t do it again,” he cautioned. “It was very dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +They turned in at the Rataplan and drew up at the carriage entrance. Harleston +helped Mrs. Clephane from the taxi and they passed into the Club-House. +</p> + +<p> +He inquired of the doorman whether Mr. Carpenter was in, and another servant, +who overheard the question, added that Mr. Carpenter was in the dining-room. +Harleston and Mrs. Clephane went directly in and to a table next to +Carpenter’s. Three tables away were Madeline Spencer and Snodgrass. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded to Mrs. Spencer and to Snodgrass, then spoke to Carpenter and +invited him over. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know if you will remember me, Mrs. Clephane,” said Carpenter, coming +across. “I met you several years ago in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed, Mr. Carpenter, I remember you!” Mrs. Clephane replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything?” Harleston asked, without moving his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing. I was here when they arrived,” Carpenter replied in the same +manner—and went back to his table. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is the woman with Harleston?” Snodgrass asked Mrs. Spencer. “I’ve never +seen her.” +</p> + +<p> +“A Mrs. Clephane,” Madeline Spencer replied. “She’s very good-looking, isn’t +she?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m perfectly satisfied with the lady immediately in my fore,” he smiled. “I +don’t run to blondes—” +</p> + +<p> +“When you’re with a brunette!” she smiled back. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t run to anyone when I’m with you,” he replied with quiet earnestness, +leaning toward her across the table. +</p> + +<p> +She shot him a knowing glance. Last night she had held him to strict propriety. +Today in the taxi she had deliberately set herself to fascinate him, and had +succeeded well. She had been demurely tantalizing—holding him at a distance, +letting him come a little nearer, bringing him up sharply; all the tricks of +the trade executed with a perfection of technic and a mastery of effect. + +Snodgrass, with all his experience, was but a novice in her hands; she always +struck directly at the affections—got them: and then the rest was easy. She +never lost her head, nor allowed her own affections to become involved; save +only twice—and both those times she had failed. Snodgrass, she had learned +through inquiries, had quite sufficient money to make him worth her while; +moreover, he was such a big, good-natured, dependable chap—and a gentleman. If +he had not been a gentleman he would not have attracted Madeline Spencer for an +instant. She dealt only in gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +She had not told Snodgrass of the Clephane letter, nor anything as to Harleston +except to refer casually to him as the confidential emissary in delicate +matters of the State Department. She had found that Snodgrass was not the +actual man in the case; that he was simply a friendly confederate, or rather, +to use his own words, “a friend of Davidson.” She had expected that the package +or letter would be delivered to her in the taxi; but Snodgrass had told her as +soon as they were started that Davidson would forward it to him at the Rataplan +by mail, not later than the + +two o’clock delivery. He would get it as they were leaving and transfer it to +her, accepting the consideration as specified by Davidson, and receipting for +it. He said flatly that he did not want to know the contents of the letter; he +was doing this favour for Davidson. He understood that it was to be entirely +<i>sub rosa</i> and that nothing must ever transpire as to it. Therefore he was +prepared to forget the entire episode the moment it was over; the epochal +meetings with her he would not forget, nor would he permit her to forget him if +constant devotion and assiduous attention were of avail. To which she had made +a most demurely fitting answer, and the conversation thereafter grew +exceedingly confidential. Oh, they were getting on very well indeed when the +Rataplan was reached. And they were still progressing very well—in a discreetly +informal way. +</p> + +<p> +The entrance of Mrs. Clephane and Harleston was unexpected to Mrs. Spencer; +Carpenter was a stranger to her and she had thought nothing of him; but when he +spoke to Harleston, and seemed to know Mrs. Clephane, she put him on the list +of the enemy. She kept him there when Snodgrass told her his name and position +in the Diplomatic + +Service and that it was reputed there was no cipher too difficult for him to +solve. +</p> + +<p> +“We would better be very circumspect,” she said low. “I think that these two +men are here to watch us; they know that I’m in the Secret Service, of Germany, +and they’re naturally suspicious of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carpenter was here when we came in,” Snodgrass remarked. “He was sitting in +the lobby. However, if you prefer, I’ll let my mail go until evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can decide when we’re through luncheon,” she replied. “Haste is of vital +importance, my instructions say. I had hoped to get away on the midnight train +for New York, and to sail tomorrow for England.” +</p> + +<p> +“I had hoped to do the same!” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“More than really! May I?” leaning forward. +</p> + +<p> +“If you care to, Captain Snodgrass. It will be very pleasant to have you on +board.” +</p> + +<p> +“And afterward?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may not care for the afterward,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll risk it!” he exclaimed. “We’ll sail tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the letter?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll get it for you—or have it along!” +</p> + +<p> +“What about the consideration?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hang the consideration. I’ll pay it myself, if need be.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, my friend!” she laughed. “I’m not worth so much, nor anything near it. +And even though I were, I’d not permit the wasteful extravagance.” +</p> + +<p> +She might have added that she had no objection whatever to his wasteful +extravagance, in fact, she would rather encourage it, if she were its object. +Only that must come later—after the present business was finished, and they had +sailed from New York. How long the extravagance would continue was dependent on +the depth of his purse and his disposition. +</p> + +<p> +“Wasteful extravagance does not apply where you are concerned,” he replied. +“However, we’ll let Germany pay the consideration, and I’ll have that much more +to spend on you.” +</p> + +<p> +She rewarded him with one of her alluringly ravishing smiles and a touch of her +slender foot. + +She had him—and she knew she had him. She would be Madeline Spencer once +again—always having a victim, and always ready for a fresh one. Since she had +failed with Harleston, what mattered it how many the victims, or what the price +they paid. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>XXIII—Caught</h2> + +<p> +“Mrs. Spencer and her friend have reached some sort of an understanding,” Mrs. +Clephane remarked. “She just smiled at him significantly and pressed his foot.” +</p> + +<p> +“I noticed the smile but not the foot business,” Harleston chuckled. “It’s +something quite personal to them, I take it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly; but what’s the effect on the matter in hand? Does not this +<i>personal</i> understanding signify that the delivery of the formula has been +arranged, maybe even effected.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded. With Madeline Spencer it was, he knew, business first and +personal matters afterward. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we shall see the end of the affair of your cipher letter and its +ramifications before the afternoon is over,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“What about the French Embassy?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The Marquis has been advised that we have the translation. He will keep his +hands off, you may believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think either that Captain Snodgrass has the document in his possession, or +that he has given it to Mrs. Spencer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or that it will come into his possession before they leave the Rataplan, and +be transferred to her here or in the taxi on their way back to town,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“What if he transferred it to her on their way here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she still has it—once she gets it in her possession she won’t part with +it, even in her sleep, until she places it in the hands of the official who +sent her to America.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Mr. Carpenter was here to watch until you came?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—and afterward; you see one of us might be called away. From the time she +and Snodgrass met at the Chateau this morning, they have not been out of +espionage and close espionage. So long as they are in a taxi, or at the +Rataplan, there is no danger of the document getting away if either of them has +it; but until we are certain that + +they have it, we won’t detain them; we want the document to aid us in running +down the traitor. I’m not at all sure that Snodgrass is aware of the character +of the document. He probably stipulated not to know; he will be content with a +division of the money—and with a chance to spend some of it on Spencer; which +spending she is quite ready to facilitate, as witness the pleasant +understanding they seem to have arrived at during luncheon.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do, Mr. Harleston?” Mrs. Clephane asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you will enjoy it better if you’re not wise, little lady!” he smiled. +“Moreover, it depends on circumstances just how it’s to be gone about—except +that it ends in the office of the Secretary of State.—Hush!” +</p> + +<p> +“The Secretary of State!” she exclaimed low. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve an appointment to take Mrs. Spencer to meet his Excellency at four +o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what are you going to do with me, Mr. Harleston?” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean at four o’clock, or permanently?” +</p> + +<p> +“At four o’clock, sir,” with a charming lilt of the head. +</p> + +<p> +“Take you along.” +</p> + +<p> +“With <i>that woman</i>? Thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you say you had an appointment to take Mrs. Spencer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did!” +</p> + +<p> +“You intend to keep the appointment?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do!” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, sir, you don’t imagine for a moment that I would go anywhere with Mrs. +Spencer!” +</p> + +<p> +“No more than you imagine that I would ask it of you!” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me your meaning is somewhat obscure,” she retorted. “However, +whether you don’t mean it, or do mean it, I’ll trust myself to you because it’s +you, Mr. Harleston.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permanently, my lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not, sir. I refer only to this afternoon; I want to be in at the end +of the game.” +</p> + +<p> +“For me,” said Harleston slowly, “it’s been a very fortunate game.” +</p> + +<p> +“Games are uncertain and sometimes costly,” she shrugged. +</p> + +<p> +“When played with Spencer, they are both and then some,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Carpenter pushed back his chair and arose, nodded pleasantly to +Mrs. Clephane and Harleston as he passed, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +“Will Mr. Carpenter be at the finish?” Mrs. Clephane asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Probably; but he’ll be in the lobby when we go through.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are going!” she whispered. “And they’re coming this way.” +</p> + +<p> +As Mrs. Spencer and Snodgrass went by, the former with an intimate little look +at Harleston, said confidentially: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be ready at half-past three, Guy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good!” Harleston answered promptly—when she was past, he looked at Mrs. +Clephane. +</p> + +<p> +“The cat!” she muttered; then smiled quizzically. “Such a pleasant air of +proprietorship,” she observed. +</p> + +<p> +“Too pleasant,” he returned. “I’ve something to tell you as to it and her, when +the present matter is ended.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will it keep?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. “I can tell it better then—and have more time for the telling.” +</p> + +<p> +The headwaiter approached casually, as though surveying the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“He went to the private mail boxes; she’s waiting in the lobby,” the man +replied. “He received a small letter, which he opened; it enclosed only another +envelope, which he put in his pocket without opening. He returned to the lobby +and they left the Club-House.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston nodded. “It’s time for us to be moving,” said he to Mrs. Clephane. +“Will you trust me?” he asked as they passed into the lobby, at the far end of +which Carpenter was sitting absorbed in his cigar. +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely!” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“And will you go with Carpenter; he understands? I’ll be with you shortly. I +must act quickly now.” +</p> + +<p> +Carpenter arose as they neared. +</p> + +<p> +“Just started,” said he, and bowed to Mrs. Clephane. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Clephane understands,” Harleston explained “I confide her to your care. +<i>À bientôt.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +He hurried out. A taxi, waiting with power + +on, sped up; he sprang aboard and it raced away. +</p> + +<p> +As it neared the Connecticut Avenue bridge, the taxi slowed down a trifle and +the driver half-faced around. +</p> + +<p> +“The other car is just ahead, sir,” he reported. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said Harleston. “Does the driver know we’re behind him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve signalled, sir, and he’s answered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maintain the distance,” Harleston directed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes sir,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +Keeping about a hundred yards apart—the two cars sped down the hill and around +Dupont Circle to Massachusetts Avenue, thence by it and Sixteenth Street to H. +The one in the lead continued on toward Fourteenth. Harleston’s shot down +Fifteenth, flashed over the tracks at Pennsylvania Avenue, swung into F Street, +and drew in at the Chateau just as the other came around the Fourteenth Street +corner, and rolled slowly up to the curb. +</p> + +<p> +As Snodgrass was assisting Madeline Spencer to alight—and taking his time about +it—Harleston glanced at his watch, sprang from his car, and hastened over. +</p> + +<p> +“This is fortunate, Mrs. Spencer!” he exclaimed. “Just after you left the +Rataplan the Secretary of State telephoned that he was summoned to the White +House at four, and I should bring you an hour earlier. On the chance of +overtaking you, I beat it after you. Now if Captain Snodgrass will permit you, +we have just time to get over to the Department.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you excuse me, Captain Snodgrass?” she asked, with her compelling smile. +</p> + +<p> +“A Secretary of State may not be denied,” Snodgrass replied. “In this instance +in particular I would I were his Excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come and dine with me at eight,” giving him her hand.... “Now, Mr. Harleston, +I am ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do with Mrs. Clephane?” she asked, when they were started. +</p> + +<p> +“I left her at the Rataplan,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no—with Carpenter, who chanced to be handy.” +</p> + +<p> +“The bald-headed chap, who spoke to you in the dining-room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Carpenter is the chief of the Cipher Division, I believe you said.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t recall that I said it, Madeline, but your information is correct.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’ll ask the Secretary for the letter,” she remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask him anything you’ve a mind to!” Harleston laughed. “You’ve a very winning +pair of black eyes et cetera, my lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never seen the Secretary!” she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Small matter. He’ll see you, all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll make an impression, you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t, it will be the first failure of the sort you’ve ever +registered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Except with you,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “You’ve had me going many times.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Guy—but not now,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I’m strong!” he laughed, bluntly declining the overture. +</p> + +<p> +“Hence you are willing that I try my smiles on the Secretary,” she retorted. +</p> + +<p> +“We are fellow diplomats,” he countered. “You did me a good turn in the Du +Plesis affair; I’m trying now to show my appreciation. Moreover, + +it will give Snodgrass an opportunity to reflect on your beauty and fascinating +ways—and to look forward to eight o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is pleasant to have something agreeable to look forward to,” she replied, +ironically suggestive. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it?” he approved. “I don’t know anything more pleasant—unless it is the +finishing stroke of an <i>affaire Diplomatique.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you anticipate the finishing stroke to the present affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“In due time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Due time?” she inflected. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever is necessary in the premises,” he explained. +</p> + +<p> +“It hasn’t then gotten beyond the premises?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it hasn’t gotten beyond the premises,” he replied—with an inward chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +There was no occasion to explain that, by the latter premises, he meant +herself. His whole scheme was dependent on her having the traitorous letter in +her possession. He was quite sure Snodgrass had received it by mail at the +Rataplan; and why had he put the unopened envelope in his pocket unless to give +it to her on their way to the Chateau. And as he (Harleston) + +had caught her as she alighted from the taxi, and had hurried her off to the +State Department, she must still have it. Of course, there was the possibility +that Snodgrass had not yet delivered it; so Snodgrass was being looked after by +others. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you give me a line on his Excellency, Guy?” she asked. “Is he easy, or +difficult, or neither?” +</p> + +<p> +“I may not betray the weak points of my chief!” Harleston smiled. “Moreover, +here we are,” as the taxi came to a stop on the Seventeenth Street side of an +atrociously ugly, and miserably inadequate building that partially houses three +Departments of the great American Government. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I to be left alone with the great one?” she asked, as they went up the +steps from the sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you wish me to do?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait until I signal!” +</p> + +<p> +“And if his Excellency signals first?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be for me to influence that signal,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +They took the private elevator to the next floor. The old negro messenger was +waiting at the door of the reception room and he bowed to the floor—a + +portion of the bow was for Harleston, but by far the larger portion was for +Madeline Spencer. +</p> + +<p> +“De Sec’eta’y, seh, am waiting for you all at onct, Mars Ha’lison,” he said; +and ushering them across the big room to the Secretary’s private office he +swung back the heavy door and bowed them into the Presence. +</p> + +<p> +As she passed the threshold, Mrs. Spencer caught her breath sharply, and +straightened her shoulders just a trifle. She saw where she stood, and what was +coming. Very well—she would defeat them yet. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>XXIV—The Candle Flame</h2> + +<p> +The Secretary was standing by the window; with him were Mrs. Clephane and +Carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Mrs. Spencer!” he said, without waiting for the formal +presentation. +</p> + +<p> +She dropped him—Continental fashion—a bit of curtsy and offered him her slender +fingers; which, as well as the rest of her hand, he took and held. Its +shapeliness together with her beauty of face and figure were instantly swept up +by his appraising glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency is very gracious!” she murmured bestowing on him a look that +fairly dizzied him. +</p> + +<p> +Small wonder, he thought, that she was reputed the most fascinating and +loveliest secret agent in Europe—and the most dangerous to the other party +involved; it would be a rare man, indeed, who could withstand such charms, to +say nothing of the alluring and appealing ways that must go + +with them. If he only might try them—just to test his own fine power of +resistance and adamantine will! He shot a quick glance of suppressed irritation +at Harleston—and Madeline Spencer saw it and smiled, turning the smile toward +Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“I know what you are about to do,” the smile said. “Now do it if you can. You +were afraid to trust me alone with this man; you knew how easy he would be for +me. Proceed with your game, Mr. Harleston—and play it out.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the Secretary, still holding her hand, was saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Let me present the Fifth Assistant Secretary of State, Mr. Carpenter;—” and +Carpenter received a smile only a little less dazzling than that bestowed on +his chief—“I believe you have met Mrs. Clephane,” he ended, and only then did +he release her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have met Mrs. Clephane,” she replied indifferently, and without so much +as a glance her way. +</p> + +<p> +It was to be a battle, so why delay it? +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency,” said she, “when this appointment was made, some days ago, I +thought that + +it was merely to enable an insignificant woman to say that she had met a great +dignitary and famous man. I think so no longer. It has assumed an international +significance. I am here not as plain Madeline Spencer but as Madeline Spencer +of the German Secret Service. It seems that a certain letter intended for the +French Ambassador has gone astray, and has come into your possession; therefore +I am to be asked to explain the matter, though I’ve never seen the letter nor +know the cipher in which, I am told by Mr. Harleston, it is written. So what is +it you would of me, your Excellency?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Madame Spencer,” said the Secretary, “what you say as to the original +reason for this little meeting, arranged by our mutual friend, Mr. Harleston, +is absolutely correct—except that it was a mere man who was desirous of being +presented to a beautiful and a famous woman. It seems, however, that certain +circumstances have suddenly arisen that made it imperative for the meeting to +be advanced half an hour—” +</p> + +<p> +“What are those circumstances, may I ask?” she cut in. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have to request Mr. Harleston to answer. + +To be quite candid, Madame Spencer, I can only infer them; Mr. Harleston +arranged them.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned to Harleston with a mocking smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I am listening, monsieur,” she inflected. “What is it you, or rather America, +would of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“The letter you have in your possession,” said Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“The letter!” she marvelled. “Why, Mr. Harleston, you know quite well that I +never had the Clephane letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very true; we have the Clephane letter, as you style it; and we have also a +<i>translation</i>. What we want from you is the letter that Captain Snodgrass +took from his mail box at the Rataplan this afternoon, and gave to you in the +taxi on the way to the Chateau.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Absurd, sir!” she replied. “Surely you are not serious!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me be entirely specific,” he returned “I’ll put all my cards on the table +and play them open.” +</p> + +<p> +“Double dummy, by all means!” she laughed, perching her lithe length on the arm +of a chair, + +one slender foot swinging slowly back and forth. “Your play, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need to go back farther than this morning,” he observed. “We knew +that you were to meet Captain Snodgrass and lunch with him at one o’clock at +the Rataplan. Your man Marston, when he visited Mr. Carpenter this morning, +managed inadvertently to furnish the key-word of the Clephane letter. Do you +see whither your meeting with Snodgrass, an ex-officer of the Army, in view of +the translation of the letter leads, Madeline? Marston, I might remark, was +quickly apprehended; if he made a copy of the letter, he had no opportunity to +use it. Well, you went to the Rataplan with Snodgrass—every movement you two +made, from the time you joined Snodgrass at the Chateau until I myself put you +in my cab when you returned to the hotel, was observed by numerous and +competent shadows. We were convinced that you were to receive the formula—” +</p> + +<p> +“What formula, Guy?” +</p> + +<p> +“The formula mentioned in the Clephane letter,” he explained; “which formula +you received from Snodgrass during the ride back from + +the Rataplan to the Chateau. He received it there by post, and got it from his +box as you were leaving. He even was foolish enough to open the original +envelope, and to put the one enclosed, unopened in his pocket. You immediately +took a taxi for the Chateau. My taxi was close behind yours; and I caught you +as you were alighting and hurried you off to—” +</p> + +<p> +“This pleasant appointment!” she laughed. “I suppose, Guy, you want the +envelope and contents—which you assume Captain Snodgrass transferred to me in +the taxi; <i>n’est-ce pas?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly, Madeline.” +</p> + +<p> +“And it’s three strong men and one woman against poor me,” she shrugged—“unless +Mrs. Clephane is merely a disinterested spectator.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am always interested in what Mr. Harleston does,” Edith replied sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +“Particularly when he is doing another woman,” was the retort. +</p> + +<p> +“It depends somewhat on the woman done,” said Edith. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you here?” Mrs. Spencer laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“To see the end of the affair of the cab-of-the-sleeping-horse.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Spencer shrugged and turned to Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you expect to end it, Guy?” she asked. “Because if you do, and this +formulaic letter, that you think I have, will end it, I am sorry indeed to +disappoint you. I haven’t that letter, nor do I know anything as to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that event you have the consideration which you were to pay for the +letter,” Harleston returned. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Guy, where would I carry this consideration?” she laughed, with a +sweeping motion to her narrow lingerie gown that could not so much as conceal a +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t imagine that you are carrying gold or even Bank of England notes. +You’re not so crude. The consideration is, most likely, a note to the German +Ambassador, on the presentation of which the money will be paid in good +American gold. And I’m so sure of the facts that it is either the formula or +the consideration. The latter we shall not appropriate; the former we shall +keep.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I have neither?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Then we get neither—though that is a consummation most unlikely.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how are you to determine?” +</p> + +<p> +“By your gracious surrender of it!” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed softly. “But if I am not able to be gracious?” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust that we shall not be obliged to go so far.” And when she would have +answered he cut her short, courteously but with finality. “You’ve lost, +Madeline; now be a good loser. You’ve won from me, and made me pay stakes and +then some—and I’ve paid and smiled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly! You’ve paid; I can’t pay, because one loses before one pays, and I +haven’t anything to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will prove it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said she. “Do you wish me to submit to a search?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wish it, but you have left no alternative.” +</p> + +<p> +“Burr!” went the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +The Secretary answered. “Here is Mr. Harleston,” he said and pushed the +instrument over. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Ranleigh,” came the voice. “We’ve searched the man, also the cab, and +found nothing beyond some innocent personal correspondence. + +We’ve retained the correspondence and let the man go.” +</p> + +<p> +“That, I suppose,” Mrs. Spencer remarked as Harleston hung up the receiver, +“was to say that Mr. Snodgrass and the cab have been thoroughly searched and +nothing suspicious found.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your intuition is marvellous,” Harleston answered. “Major Ranleigh’s report +was that exactly. Consequently, Madeline, the letter must be with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about the consideration that Captain Snodgrass received from me in return +for the formulaic letter?” she asked. “He doesn’t seem to have had it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe you managed both to get the letter from him and to keep the +consideration. It would not be the first time I have known you to accomplish +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only once—against you, Guy!” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Which was a lie; but scored for her—and, for the moment, silenced him. +</p> + +<p> +She shot a glance at the Secretary. He was beating a tattoo on the pad before +him and looking calmly at her—as impersonal as though she were a door-jamb; and +she understood; however much he + +might be inclined to aid her, this was not the time for him even to appear +interested. On another occasion, <i>à deux</i>, he would display sufficient +ardour and admiration. At present it must be the impassive face and the +judicial manner. The business of the great Government he had the honour to +represent was at issue! +</p> + +<p> +There being no help from that high and mighty quarter, she turned to Harleston. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” with a shrug of resignation, “I’ve lost and must pay. Here,” opening +the mesh-bag that she carried, “is the—” +</p> + +<p> +She threw up her hand, and a nasty little automatic was covering the +Secretary’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +He gave a shout—and sat perfectly still. Mrs. Clephane, with an exclamation of +fear, laid her hand on Harleston’s arm. Carpenter was impassive. Harleston +suppressed a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell them if I can shoot straight, Guy,” Mrs. Spencer said pleasantly; “and +meanwhile do you all keep your exact distance and position. Speak your piece, +Mr. Harleston—tell his Excellency if I can shoot.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite ready to assume it without the testimony of Mr. Harleston, or +ocular demonstration + +in this immediate direction,” the Secretary remarked with a weak grin. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him, if I can shoot, Guy,” she ordered. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never seen her better,” Harleston admitted “though I’m not at all fearful +for your Excellency. Mrs. Spencer won’t shoot; she’s only bluffing. If you’ll +say the word, I’ll engage to disarm her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile what happens to his Excellency?” Madeline Spencer mocked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing whatever—except a few nervous moments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Try it, Mr. Secretary, and find out!” she laughed across the levelled +revolver. +</p> + +<p> +“Train your gun on Mr. Harleston and test him,” the Secretary suggested, +attempting to be facetious and failing. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Spencer might be, probably was, bluffing but he did not propose to be the +one to call it; the result was quite too uncertain. He had never looked into +the muzzle of a revolver, and he found the experience distinctly unpleasant—she +held the barrel so steady and pointed straight at his heart. Diplomatic secrets +were wanted of course, but they were not to be purchased by the life of the + +Secretary of State, nor even by an uncertain chance at it. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Harleston’s life isn’t sufficiently valuable to the nation,” she replied, +“I prefer to shoot you, if necessary—though I trust it won’t be necessary. +What’s a mere scrap of paper, without value save as a means to detect its +author, compared to the life of the greatest American diplomat? Moreover, the +letter would yield you nothing as to its meaning nor its author. The meaning +you already know, since you have found the key-word to the cipher; so only the +author remains; and as it is typewritten you will have small, very small, +prospect from it.” She had read the Secretary aright—and now she asked: “Am I +not correct, your Excellency?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you are,” the Secretary replied, “We all are obligated and quite ready +to give our lives for our country, if the sacrifice will benefit it in the very +least; yet I can’t see the obligation in this instance, can you Harleston?” +</p> + +<p> +“None in the least, sir, provided your life were at issue,” Harleston answered. +“For my part, I think it isn’t even seriously threatened. If Mrs. Spencer will +shift her aim to me, I’ll take a chance.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clephane gave a suppressed exclamation and an involuntary motion of +protest—and Mrs. Spencer saw her. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Clephane seems to be concerned lest I accept!” she jeered. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Clephane blushed ravishingly, and Harleston caught her in the act; +whereupon she blushed still more, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +“Play acting!” mocked Madeline Spencer—then, shrugging the matter aside, she +turned to the Secretary. “Since we two are of one mind in the affair before us, +your Excellency,” she observed, “I fancy I may take it as settled. Nevertheless +you will pardon me if I don’t depress my aim until we have attended to a little +matter; it will occupy us but a moment,” making a step nearer the desk and away +from the others, yet still holding them in her eye. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it you wish, madame?” the Secretary inquired a trifle huskily; his +throat was becoming somewhat parched by the anxiety of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you have on your desk a small blue candle; employed, I assume, for +melting wax for your private seal,” she went on. “May I trouble your Excellency +to light the aforesaid candle?” +</p> + +<p> +The Secretary promptly struck a match, and managed with a most unsteady hand to +touch it to the wick. +</p> + +<p> +As the flame flared up, she drew a narrow envelope from her bag and tossed it +on the desk before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said she, “will you be kind enough to look at the enclosure.” +</p> + +<p> +The Secretary took up the envelope and drew out the sheet. It was a single +sheet of the thinnest texture used for foreign correspondence. He looked first +at one side, then at the other. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you see, sir?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The sheet is blank,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Try the envelope,” she recommended. +</p> + +<p> +He turned it over. “It also is blank,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Sympathetic ink!” Carpenter laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Just what we are about to see, wise one!” she mocked. “Now, your Excellency, +will you place the envelope in the candle’s flame?” +</p> + +<p> +The Secretary took the envelope by the tip of one corner and held it in the +blaze until it was burned to his fingers—no writing was disclosed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now the letter, please?” she directed. And when Carpenter would have +protested, she cut him + +short with a peremptory gesture. “Don’t interrupt, sir!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +And Carpenter laughed softly and did nothing more—being, with Harleston, in +enjoyment of their chief’s discomfiture. +</p> + +<p> +“The letter—see—your Excellency,” she repeated with a bewildering smile. +</p> + +<p> +And as the flame crept down the thin sheet, just ahead of it, apparent to them +all, crept also the writing, brought out by the heat. In a moment it was over; +the last bit of the corner burning in a brass tray where the Secretary had +dropped it. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mr. Harleston,” said Madeline Spencer, lowering her revolver as the final +flicker of the flame expired, “I am ready to submit to a search.” +</p> + +<p> +Harleston glanced inquiringly at the Secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“The lady is with you,” the Secretary remarked with a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, sir,” said Harleston. “Ranleigh has a skilled woman in the +waiting-room, she will officiate in the matter. We’re not likely to find +anything, but it’s to provide against the chance.”—And turning to Madeline +Spencer: “Whatever the outcome, madame, you will leave Washington + +tonight and sail from New York on the morrow; and I should advise you to remain +abroad so long as you are in the Diplomatic Service.” +</p> + +<p> +And she—knowing very well that the search was necessary, and aware that while +there was nothing incriminating upon her yet from that moment, until the ship +that carried her passed out to sea, she would be under close +espionage—answered, pleasantly as though accepting a courtesy tendered, and +with a winning smile: +</p> + +<p> +“I had arranged to sail tomorrow, Mr. Harleston so it will be just as intended. +Meanwhile, I’m at the service of your female assistant. She will find nothing, +I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the pleasure of conducting you to her,” Harleston replied, and swung +open the door. +</p> + +<p> +“If Mrs. Clephane will trust you with me,” she inflected, flouting the other +with a meaning look; which look flitted across the room to the Secretary and +changed to one of interrogation as it met his eyes—calm eyes and steady, and +with never a trace of the interest that she knew was behind them, yet dared not +show—yet awhile. +</p> + +<p> +And Mrs. Clephane answered her look by a shrug; and Harleston answered that to +the Secretary + +by a soft chuckle. As the door closed behind them, he remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“At a more propitious time.” +</p> + +<p> +To which she responded: +</p> + +<p> +“Which time may never come.” Then she held out her hand. “Good-bye, Guy,” she +smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Madeline,” said he; “and good luck another time—with other +opponents.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we’ll call this—” +</p> + +<p> +“A stale-mate! I didn’t win everything, yet what I lost was of no moment—” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so?” she asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“To my client, the United States,” he added. “So far as I am concerned, +Madeline, we still are friends.” +</p> + +<p> +He put out his hand again; she hesitated just an instant; then, with one of her +rare, frank smiles, she laid her own hand in it. +</p> + +<p> +“Guy,” she whispered, “she wasn’t as bad as she was painted; in fact, she +wasn’t bad at all—and I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Secretary of State is a peculiar man?” Mrs. Clephane observed, as she and +Harleston came down the steps into the Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +Harleston leaned over. “I’ll confide to you that he is an egotistical and +insufferable old ass,” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet he thinks he is a perfect fascinator with the ladies!” she laughed. +“Even now he is contemplating what a conquest he made of Mrs. Spencer. It was +great fun to watch her playing him; and then how suddenly he pulled himself up +and assumed a judicial manner—which deceived no one. Certainly it didn’t +deceive her, for the flying look she gave him, as she went out, was the +cleverest thing she did. It told him everything he wanted to know, and simply +gorged his vanity. She may be, doubtless is, a bad, bad lot; yet nevertheless I +can’t help liking her—and for finesse and skill she is a wonder.” Then she +looked at him demurely. “You’re fond of her, Mr. Harleston, are you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m fond of her,” he replied slowly; “but not as fond as I once was, and not +so long ago, I’ll tell you more about it before we go in to dinner this +evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t aware that we were to dine together In fact, I was thinking of doing +something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you <i>will</i> dine with me now, won’t you?” he asked meaningly. +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes hesitated, and fell, and a bewitching flush stole into her cheek; she +understood that he asked of her something more than a mere dinner. And, after a +pause, she answered softly, yet not so softly but that he heard: +</p> + +<p> +“If you wish it, Monsieur Harleston.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAB OF THE SLEEPING HORSE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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