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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19341-8.txt b/19341-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2987a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/19341-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11174 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Maker of History, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Maker of History + + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + + + +Release Date: September 20, 2006 [eBook #19341] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY*** + + +E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Patricia A. Benoy, and the +Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(https://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 19341-h.htm or 19341-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/3/4/19341/19341-h/19341-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/3/4/19341/19341-h.zip) + + + + + +A MAKER OF HISTORY + +by + +E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + +Author of +"The Kingdom of the Blind," "The Hillman," +"The Double Traitor," Etc. + +With Frontispiece + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "'Guard this for me,' she whispered." (page 148) +_Frontispiece_] + + +[Illustration] + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York +Published by arrangement with Little, Brown & Company +Copyright, 1905, 1906, +by Little, Brown, and Company. +All rights reserved + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + BOOK I + + I. AN ACCIDENTAL SPY 1 + + II. AT THE CAFÉ MONTMARTRE 11 + + III. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 18 + + IV. THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF 26 + + V. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT 33 + + VI. THE VANISHING LADY 40 + + VII. THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE 48 + + VIII. "DUNCOMBE'S HOLD-UP" 55 + + IX. THE STORY OF A CALL 64 + + X. SPENCER'S SURPRISE 72 + + XI. A WORD OF WARNING 80 + + XII. THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE 87 + + XIII. "HER VOICE" 93 + + XIV. LAUGHTER OF WOMEN 101 + + XV. MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA 107 + + XVI. MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION 115 + + XVII. GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE 121 + + XVIII. "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?" 129 + + XIX. A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER 137 + + XX. MR. FIELDING IN A NEW RÔLE 143 + + XXI. A WOMAN'S CRY 151 + + XXII. LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS 160 + + XXIII. HER FIRST KISS 171 + + XXIV. THE EMPTY ROOM 179 + + + BOOK II + + I. GUY POYNTON AGAIN 185 + + II. AN OLD STORY 192 + + III. A BODY FROM THE SEINE 200 + + IV. THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE 208 + + V. THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS 217 + + VI. THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW 225 + + VII. SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE 234 + + VIII. A POLITICAL INTERLUDE 243 + + IX. ARRESTED! 251 + + X. THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS 259 + + XI. THE MAKING OF HISTORY 267 + + XII. AN OLD FRIEND 276 + + XIII. A NEWSPAPER SENSATION 285 + + XIV. THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY 294 + + XV. A MERRY MEETING 301 + + + + +A MAKER OF HISTORY + + +BOOK I + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN ACCIDENTAL SPY + + +The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was stiff, footsore, and a little +chilly. There was no man-servant arranging his bath and clothes, no +pleasant smell of coffee--none of the small luxuries to which he was +accustomed. On the contrary, he had slept all night upon a bed of +bracken, with no other covering than the stiff pine needles from the +tall black trees, whose rustling music had lulled him to sleep. + +He sat up, and remembered suddenly where he was and how he had come +there. He yawned, and was on the point of struggling to his feet when he +became aware of certain changed conditions in his surroundings. Some +instinct, of simple curiosity perhaps, but of far-reaching effect, led +him to crawl back into his hiding-place and watch. + +Last night, after many hours of painful walking, two things alone had +impressed themselves upon his consciousness: the dark illimitable forest +and the double line of rails, which with the absolute straightness of +exact science had stretched behind and in front till the tree-tops in +the far distance seemed to touch, and the rails themselves to vanish +into the black heart of the close-growing pines. For miles he had +limped along the painfully rough track without seeing the slightest sign +of any break in the woods, or any human being. At last the desire for +sleep had overtaken him. He was a hardy young Englishman, and a night +out of doors in the middle of June under these odorous pines presented +itself merely as a not disagreeable adventure. Five minutes after the +idea had occurred to him he was asleep. + +And now in the gray morning he looked out upon a different scene. +Scarcely a dozen yards from him stood a single travelling-coach of dark +green, drawn by a heavy engine. At intervals of scarcely twenty paces up +and down the line, as far as he could see, soldiers were stationed like +sentries. They were looking sharply about in all directions, and he +could even hear the footsteps of others crashing through the wood. From +the train three or four men in long cloaks had already descended. They +were standing in the track talking together. + +The young man behind the bracken felt himself in somewhat of a dilemma. +There was a delightful smell of fresh coffee from the waiting coach, and +there seemed to be not the slightest reason why he should not emerge +from his hiding-place and claim the hospitality of these people. He was +a quite harmless person, with proper credentials, and an adequate +explanation of his presence there. On the other hand, the spirit of +adventure natural to his years strongly prompted him to remain where he +was and watch. He felt certain that something was going to happen. +Besides, those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for somebody to +shoot! + +Whilst he was hesitating, something did happen. There was a shrill +whistle, a puff of white smoke in the distance, and another train +approached from the opposite direction. + +It drew up within a few feet of the one which was already waiting. +Almost immediately half a dozen men, who were already standing upon the +platform of the car, descended. One of these approached rapidly, and +saluted the central figure of those who had been talking together in the +track. After a few moments' conversation these two, followed by one +other man only who was carrying a writing portfolio, ascended the +platform of the train which had arrived first and disappeared inside. + +The young man who was watching these proceedings yawned. + +"No duel, then!" he muttered to himself. "I've half a mind to go out." +Then he caught sight of a particularly fierce-looking soldier with his +finger already upon the trigger of his gun, and he decided to remain +where he was. + +In about half an hour the two men reappeared on the platform of the car. +Simultaneously the window of the carriage in which they had been sitting +was opened, and the third man was visible, standing before a small table +and arranging some papers. Suddenly he was called from outside. He +thrust his hat upon the papers, and hastened to obey the summons. + +A little gust of breeze from the opening and closing of the door +detached one of the sheets of paper from the restraining weight of the +hat. It fluttered out of the window and lay for a moment upon the side +of the track. No one noticed it, and in a second or two it fluttered +underneath the clump of bracken behind which the young Englishman was +hiding. He thrust out his hand and calmly secured it. + +In less than five minutes the place was deserted. Amidst many hasty +farewells, wholly unintelligible to the watcher, the two groups of men +separated and climbed into their respective trains. As soon as every one +was out of sight the Englishman rose with a little grunt of satisfaction +and stretched himself. + +He glanced first at the sheet of paper, and finding it written in German +thrust it into his pocket. Then he commenced an anxious search for +smoking materials, and eventually produced a pipe, a crumpled packet of +tobacco, and two matches. + +"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, lighting up. "And now for a tramp." + +He plodded steadily along the track for an hour or more. All the time he +was in the heart of the forest. Pheasants and rabbits and squirrels +continually crossed in front of him. Once a train passed, and an excited +guard shouted threats and warnings, to which he replied in fluent but +ineffective English. + +"Johnnies seem to think I'm trespassing!" he remarked to himself in an +aggrieved tone. "I can't help being on their beastly line!" + +Tall, smooth-faced, and fair, he walked with the long step and lightsome +grace of the athletic young Englishman of his day. He was well dressed +in tweed clothes, cut by a good tailor, a little creased by his night +out of doors, but otherwise immaculate. He hummed a popular air to +himself, and held his head high. If only he were not so hungry. + +Then he came to a station. It was little more than a few rows of planks, +with a chalet at one end--but a very welcome sight confronted him. A +little pile of luggage, with his initials, G. P., was on the end of the +platform nearest to him. + +"That conductor was a sensible chap," he exclaimed. "Glad I tipped him. +Hullo!" + +The station-master, in uniform, came hurrying out. The young Englishman +took off his hat, and produced a phrase book from his pocket. He ignored +the stream of words which the station-master, with many gesticulations, +was already pouring out. + +"My luggage," he said firmly, laying one hand upon the pile, and waving +the phrase book. + +The station-master acquiesced heartily. He waxed eloquent again, but the +Englishman was busy with the phrase book. + +"Hungry! Hotel?" he attempted. + +The station-master pointed to where the smoke was curling upwards from a +score or so of houses about half a mile distant. The Englishman was +getting pleased with himself. Outside was a weird-looking carriage, and +on the box seat, fast asleep, was a very fat man in a shiny hat, +ornamented by a bunch of feathers. He pointed to the luggage, then to +the cab, and finally to the village. + +"Luggage, hotel, carriage!" he suggested. + +The station-master beamed all over. With a shout, which must have +reached the village, he awakened the sleeping man. In less than five +minutes the Englishman and his luggage were stored away in the carriage. +His ticket had been examined by the station-master, and smilingly +accepted. There were more bows and salutes, and the carriage drove off. +Mr. Guy Poynton leaned back amongst the mouldy leather upholstery, and +smiled complacently. + +"Easiest thing in the world to get on in a foreign country with a phrase +book and your wits," he remarked to himself. "Jove, I am hungry!" + +He drove into a village of half a dozen houses or so, which reminded him +of the pictured abodes of Noah and his brethren. An astonished +innkeeper, whose morning attire apparently consisted of trousers, shirt, +and spectacles, ushered him into a bare room with a trestle table. Guy +produced his phrase book. + +"Hungry!" he said vociferously. "Want to eat! Coffee!" + +The man appeared to understand, but in case there should have been any +mistake Guy followed him into the kitchen. The driver, who had lost no +time, was already there, with a long glass of beer before him. Guy +produced a mark, laid it on the table, touched himself, the innkeeper, +and the driver, and pointed to the beer. The innkeeper understood, and +the beer was good. + +The driver, who had been of course ludicrously over-paid, settled down +in his corner, and announced his intention of seeing through to the end +this most extraordinary and Heaven-directed occurrence. The innkeeper +and his wife busied themselves with the breakfast, and Guy made remarks +every now and then from his phrase book, which were usually +incomprehensible, except when they concerned a further supply of beer. +With a brave acceptance of the courtesies of the country he had accepted +a cigar from the driver, and was already contemplating the awful moment +when he would have to light it. Just then an interruption came. + +It was something very official, but whether military or of the police +Guy could not tell. It strode into the room with clanking of spurs, and +the driver and innkeeper alike stood up in respect. It saluted Guy. Guy +took off his hat. Then there came words, but Guy was busy with his +phrase book. + +"I cannot a word of German speak!" he announced at last. + +A deadlock ensued. The innkeeper and the driver rushed into the breach. +Conversation became furious. Guy took advantage of the moment to slip +the cigar into his pocket, and to light a cigarette. Finally, the +officer swung himself round, and departed abruptly. + +"Dolmetscher," the driver announced to him triumphantly. + +"Dolmetscher," the innkeeper repeated. + +Guy turned it up in his phrase book, and found that it meant +interpreter. He devoted himself then to stimulating the preparations for +breakfast. + +The meal was ready at last. There were eggs and ham and veal, +dark-colored bread, and coffee, sufficient for about a dozen people. The +driver constituted himself host, and Guy, with a shout of laughter, sat +down where he was, and ate. In the midst of the meal the officer +reappeared, ushering in a small wizened-faced individual of unmistakably +English appearance. Guy turned round in his chair, and the newcomer +touched his forelock. + +"Hullo!" Guy exclaimed. "You're English!" + +"Yes, sir!" the man answered. "Came over to train polo ponies for the +Prince of Haepsburg. Not in any trouble, I hope, sir?" + +"Not I," Guy answered cheerily. "Don't mind my going on with my +breakfast, do you? What's it all about? Who's the gentleman with the +fireman's helmet on, and what's he worrying about?" + +"He is an officer of the police, sir, on special service," the man +answered. "You have been reported for trespassing on the State railway +this morning." + +"Trespassing be blowed!" Guy answered. "I've got my ticket for the +frontier. We were blocked by signal about half a dozen miles off this +place, and I got down to stretch my legs. I understood them to say that +we could not go on for half an hour or so. They never tried to stop my +getting down, and then off they went without any warning, and left me +there." + +"I will translate to the officer, sir," the man said. + +"Right!" Guy declared. "Go ahead." + +There was a brisk colloquy between the two. Then the little man began +again. + +"He says that your train passed here at midnight, and that you did not +arrive until past six." + +"Quite right!" Guy admitted. "I went to sleep. I didn't know how far it +was to the station, and I was dead tired." + +"The officer wishes to know whether many trains passed you in the +night?" + +"Can't say," Guy answered. "I sleep very soundly, and I never opened my +eyes after the first few minutes." + +"The officer wishes to know whether you saw anything unusual upon the +line?" the little man asked. + +"Nothing at all," Guy answered coolly. "Bit inquisitive, isn't he?" + +The little man came closer to the table. + +"He wishes to see your passport, sir," he announced. + +Guy handed it to him, also a letter of credit and several other +documents. + +"He wants to know why you were going to the frontier, sir!" + +"Sort of fancy to say that I'd been in Russia, that's all!" Guy +answered. "You tell him I'm a perfectly harmless individual. Never been +abroad before." + +The officer listened, and took notes in his pocketbook of the passport +and letter of credit. Then he departed with a formal salute, and they +heard his horse's hoofs ring upon the road outside as he galloped away. +The little man came close up to the table. + +"You'll excuse me, sir," he said, "but you seem to have upset the +officials very much by being upon the line last night. There have been +some rumors going about--but perhaps you're best not to know that. May I +give you a word of advice, sir?" + +"Let me give you one," Guy declared. "Try this beer!" + +"I thank you, sir," the man answered. "I will do so with pleasure. But +if you are really an ordinary tourist, sir,--as I have no doubt you +are,--let this man drive you to Streuen, and take the train for the +Austrian frontier. You may save yourself a good deal of unpleasantness." + +"I'll do it!" Guy declared. "Vienna was the next place I was going to, +anyhow. You tell the fellow where to take me, will you?" + +The man spoke rapidly to the driver. + +"I think that you will be followed, sir," he added, turning to Guy, "but +very likely they won't interfere with you. The railway last night for +twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know +why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an +idea that you are either a journalist or a spy." + +"_Civis Britannicus sum!_" the boy answered, with a laugh. + +"It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AT THE CAFÉ MONTMARTRE + + +Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in +evening dress, entered the Café Montmartre, in Paris. He made his way +through the heterogeneous little crowd of men and women who were +drinking at the bar, past the scarlet-coated orchestra, into the inner +room, where the tables were laid for supper. Monsieur Albert, satisfied +with the appearance of his new client, led him at once to a small table, +submitted the wine card, and summoned a waiter. With some difficulty, as +his French was very little better than his German, he ordered supper, +and then lighting a cigarette, leaned back against the wall and looked +around to see if he could discover any English or Americans. + +The room was only moderately full, for the hour was a little early for +this quarter of Paris. Nevertheless, he was quick to appreciate a +certain spirit of Bohemianism which pleased him. Every one talked to his +neighbor. An American from the further end of the room raised his glass +and drank his health. A pretty fair-haired girl leaned over from her +table and smiled at him. + +"Monsieur like talk with me, eh?" + +"English?" he asked. + +"No. De Wien!" + +He shook his head smilingly. + +"We shouldn't get on," he declared. "Can't speak the language." + +She raised her eyebrows with a protesting gesture, but he looked away +and opened an illustrated paper by his side. He turned over the pages +idly enough at first, but suddenly paused. He whistled softly to himself +and stared at the two photographs which filled the sheet. + +"By Jove!" he said softly to himself. + +There was the rustling of skirts close to his table. An unmistakably +English voice addressed him. + +"Is it anything very interesting? Do show me!" + +He looked up. Mademoiselle Flossie, pleased with his appearance, had +paused on her way down the room. + +"Come and sit down, and I'll show it you!" he said, rising. "You're +English, aren't you?" + +Mademoiselle Flossie waved a temporary adieu to her friends and accepted +the invitation. He poured her out a glass of wine. + +"Stay and have supper with me," he begged. "I must be off soon, but I'm +tired of being alone. This is my last night, thank goodness." + +"All right!" she answered gayly. "I must go back to my friends directly +afterwards." + +"Order what you like," he begged. "I can't make these chaps understand +me." + +She laughed, and called the waiter. + +"And now show me what you were looking at in that paper," she insisted. + +He pointed to the two photographs. + +"I saw those two together only a week ago," he said. "Want to hear about +it?" + +She looked startled for a moment, and a little incredulous. + +"Yes, go on!" she said. + +He told her the story. She listened with an interest which surprised +him. Once or twice when he looked up he fancied that the lady from +Vienna was also doing her best to listen. When he had finished their +supper had arrived. + +"I think," she said, as she helped herself to _hors d'oeuvre_, "that +you were very fortunate to get away." + +He laughed carelessly. + +"The joke of it is," he said, "I've been followed all the way here. One +fellow, who pretended he got in at Strasburg, was trying to talk to me +all the time, but I saw him sneak in at Vienna, and I wasn't having any. +I say, do you come here every evening?" + +"Very often," she answered. "I dance at the Comique, and then we +generally go to Maxim's to supper, and up here afterwards. I'll +introduce you to my friends afterwards, if you like, and we'll all sit +together. If you're very good I'll dance to you!" + +"Delighted," he answered, "if they speak English. I'm sick of trying to +make people understand my rotten French." + +She nodded. + +"They speak English all right. I wish that horrid Viennese girl wouldn't +try to listen to every word we say." + +He smiled. + +"She wanted me to sit at her table," he remarked. + +Mademoiselle Flossie looked at him warningly, and dropped her voice. + +"Better be careful!" she whispered. "They say she's a spy!" + +"On my track very likely," he declared with a grin. + +She threw herself back in her seat and laughed. + +"Conceited! Why should any one want to be on your track? Come and see me +dance at the Comique to-morrow night." + +"Can't," he declared. "My sister's coming over from England." + +"Stupid!" + +"Oh, I'll come one night," he declared. "Order some coffee, won't +you--and what liqueurs?" + +"I'll go and fetch my friends," she declared, rising. "We'll all have +coffee together." + +"Who are they?" he asked. + +She pointed to a little group down the room--two men and a woman. The +men were French, one middle-aged and one young, dark, immaculate, and +with the slightly bored air affected by young Frenchmen of fashion; the +woman was strikingly handsome and magnificently dressed. They were quite +the most distinguished-looking people in the room. + +"If you think they'll come," he remarked doubtfully. "Aren't we rather +comfortable as we are?" + +She made her way between the tables. + +"Oh, they'll come," she declared. "They're pals!" + +She floated down the room with a cigarette in her mouth, very graceful +in her airy muslin skirts and large hat. Guy followed her admiringly +with his eyes. The Viennese lady suddenly tore off a corner of her menu +and scribbled something quickly. She passed it over to Guy. + +"Read!" she said imperatively. + +He nodded, and opened it. + +"_Prenez garde!_" he said slowly. Then he looked at her and shook his +head. She was making signs to him to destroy her message, and he at once +did so. + +"Don't understand!" he said. "Sorry!" + +Mademoiselle Flossie was laughing and talking with her friends. +Presently they rose, and came across the room with her. Guy stood up and +bowed. The introductions were informal, but he felt his insular +prejudices a little shattered by the delightful ease with which these +two Frenchmen accepted the situation. Their breeding was as obvious as +their _bonhomie_. The table was speedily rearranged to find places for +them all. + +"Your friends will take coffee with me, Mademoiselle," Guy said. "Do be +hostess, please. My attempts at French will only amuse everybody." + +The elder of the two Frenchmen, whom the waiter addressed as Monsieur le +Baron, and every one else as Louis, held up his hand. + +"With pleasure!" he declared, "later on. Just now it is too early. We +will celebrate _l'entente cordiale_. _Garçon_, a magnum of Pommery, _un +neu frappé_! I know you will forgive the liberty," he said, smiling at +Guy. "This bottle is vowed. Flossie has smiled for the first time for +three evenings." + +She threw a paper fan at him, and sat down again by Guy. + +"Do tell him the story you told me," she whispered in his ear. "Louis, +listen!" + +Guy retold his story. Monsieur le Baron listened intently. So did the +lady who had accompanied him. Guy felt that he told it very well, but +for the second time he omitted all mention of that missing sheet of +paper which had come into his possession. Monsieur le Baron was +obviously much interested. + +"You are quite sure--of the two men?" he asked quietly. + +"Quite!" Guy answered confidently. "One was----" + +Madame--Flossie's friend--dropped a wineglass. Monsieur le Baron raised +his hand. + +"No names," he said. "It is better not. We understand. A most +interesting adventure, Monsieur Poynton, and--to your health!" + +The wine was good, and the fun of the place itself went almost to the +head. Always there were newcomers who passed down the room amidst a +chorus of greetings, always the gayest of music. Then amidst cheers +Flossie and another friend whom she called from a distant table danced a +cake-walk--danced very gracefully, and with a marvellous display of +rainbow skirts. She came back breathless, and threw herself down by +Guy's side. + +"Give me some more wine!" she panted. "How close the place is!" + +The younger Frenchman, who had scarcely spoken, leaned over. + +"An idea!" he exclaimed. "My automobile is outside. I will drive you all +round the city. Monsieur Poynton shall see Paris undressed. Afterwards +we will go to Louis' rooms and make his man cook us a _déjeuner +Anglais_." + +Flossie stood up and laughed. + +"Who'll lend me a coat?" she cried. "I've nothing but a lace mantle." + +"Plenty of Frenchmen in the car," the young Frenchman cried. "Are we +all agreed? Good! _Garçon, l'addition!_" + +"And mine," Guy ordered. + +The women departed for their wraps. Guy and the two Frenchmen filled +their pockets with cigarettes. When the bills came Guy found that his +own was a trifle, and Monsieur Louis waved aside all protest. + +"We are hosts to-night, my young friend," he declared with charming +insistence. "Another time you shall have your turn. You must come round +to the club to-morrow, and we will arrange for some sport. _Allons!_" + +They crowded out together amidst a chorus of farewells. Guy took +Flossie's arm going down the stairs. + +"I say, I'm awfully obliged to you for introducing me to your friends," +he declared. "I'm having a ripping time!" + +She laughed. + +"Oh, they're all right," she declared. "Mind my skirts!" + +"I say, what does '_prenez garde_' mean?" he asked. + +"'Take care.' Why?" + +He laughed again. + +"Nothing!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE + + +"Mademoiselle," the young man said, with an air of somewhat weary +politeness, "I regret to say that there is nothing more to be done!" + +He was grieved and polite because Mademoiselle was beautiful and in +trouble. For the rest he was a little tired of her. Brothers of +twenty-one, who have never been in Paris before, and cannot speak the +language, must occasionally get lost, and the British Embassy is not +exactly a transported Scotland Yard. + +"Then," she declared, with a vigorous little stamp of her shapely foot, +"I don't see what we keep an Ambassador here for at all--or any of you. +It is scandalous!" + +The Hon. Nigel Fergusson dropped his eyeglass and surveyed the young +lady attentively. + +"My dear Miss Poynton," he said, "I will not presume to argue with you. +We are here, I suppose, for some purpose or other. Whether we fulfil it +or not may well be a matter of opinion. But that purpose is certainly +not to look after any young idiot--you must excuse my speaking +plainly--who runs amuck in this most fascinating city. In your case the +Chief has gone out of his way to help you. He has interviewed the chief +of police himself, brought his influence to bear in various quarters, +and I can tell you conscientiously that everything which possibly can +be done is being done at the present moment. If you wish for my advice +it is this: Send for some friend to keep you company here, and try to be +patient. You are in all probability making yourself needlessly +miserable." + +She looked at him a little reproachfully. He noticed, however, with +secret joy that she was drawing on her gloves. + +"Patient! He was to meet me here ten days ago. He arrived at the hotel. +His clothes are all there, and his bill unpaid. He went out the night of +his arrival, and has never returned. Patient! Well, I am much obliged to +you, Mr. Fergusson. I have no doubt that you have done all that your +duty required. Good afternoon!" + +"Good afternoon, Miss Poynton, and don't be too despondent. Remember +that the French police are the cleverest in the world, and they are +working for you." + +She looked up at him scornfully. + +"Police, indeed!" she answered. "Do you know that all they have done so +far is to keep sending for me to go and look at dead bodies down at the +Morgue? I think that I shall send over for an English detective." + +"You might do worse," he answered; "but in any case, Miss Poynton, I do +hope that you will send over for some friend or relation to keep you +company. Paris is scarcely a fit place for you to be alone and in +trouble." + +"Thank you," she said. "I will remember what you have said." + +The young man watched her depart with a curious mixture of relief and +regret. + +"The young fool's been the usual round, I suppose, and he's either too +much ashamed of himself or too besotted to turn up. I wish she wasn't +quite so devilish good-looking," he remarked to himself. "If she goes +about alone she'll get badly scared before she's finished." + +Phyllis Poynton drove straight back to her hotel and went to her room. A +sympathetic chambermaid followed her in. + +"Mademoiselle has news yet of her brother?" she inquired. + +Mademoiselle shook her head. Indeed her face was sufficient answer. + +"None at all, Marie." + +The chambermaid closed the door. + +"It would help Mademoiselle, perhaps, if she knew where the young +gentleman spent the evening before he disappeared?" she inquired +mysteriously. + +"Of course! That is just what I want to find out." + +Marie smiled. + +"There is a young man here in the barber's shop, Mademoiselle," she +announced. "He remembers Monsieur Poynton quite well. He went in there +to be shaved, and he asked some questions. I think if Mademoiselle were +to see him!" + +The girl jumped up at once. + +"Do you know his name?" she asked. + +"Monsieur Alphonse, they call him. He is on duty now." + +Phyllis Poynton descended at once to the ground +floor of the hotel, and pushed open the glass door which led into the +coiffeur's shop. Monsieur Alphonse was waiting upon a customer, and she +was given a chair. In a few minutes he descended the spiral iron +staircase and desired to know Mademoiselle's pleasure. + +"You speak English?" she asked. + +"But certainly, Mademoiselle." + +She gave a little sigh of relief. + +"I wonder," she said, "if you remember waiting upon my brother last +Thursday week. He was tall and fair, and something like me. He had just +arrived in Paris." + +Monsieur Alphonse smiled. He rarely forgot a face, and the young +Englishman's tip had been munificent. + +"Perfectly, Mademoiselle," he answered. "They sent for me because +Monsieur spoke no French." + +"My chambermaid, Marie, told me that you might perhaps know how he +proposed to spend the evening," she continued. "He was quite a stranger +in Paris, and he may have asked for some information." + +Monsieur Alphonse smiled, and extended his hands. + +"It is quite true," he answered. "He asked me where to go, and I say to +the Folies Bergères. Then he said he had heard a good deal of the supper +cafés, and he asked me which was the most amusing. I tell him the Café +Montmartre. He wrote it down." + +"Do you think that he meant to go there?" she asked. + +"But certainly. He promised to come and tell me the next day how he +amused himself." + +"The Café Montmartre. Where is it?" she asked. + +"In the Place de Montmartre. But Mademoiselle pardons--she will +understand that it is a place for men." + +"Are women not admitted?" she asked. + +Alphonse smiled. + +"But--yes. Only Mademoiselle understands that if a lady should go there +she would need to be very well escorted." + +She rose and slipped a coin into his hand. + +"I am very much obliged to you," she said. "By the bye, have any other +people made inquiries of you concerning my brother?" + +"No one at all, Mademoiselle!" the man answered. + +She almost slammed the door behind when she went out. + +"And they say that the French police are the cleverest in the world," +she exclaimed indignantly. + +Monsieur Alphonse watched her through the glass pane. + +"_Ciel!_ But she is pretty!" he murmured to himself. + + * * * * * + +She turned into the writing-room, and taking off her gloves she wrote a +letter. Her pretty fingers were innocent of rings, and her handwriting +was a little shaky. Nevertheless, it is certain that not a man passed +through the room who did not find an excuse to steal a second glance at +her. This is what she wrote:-- + + "MY DEAR ANDREW,--I am in great distress here, and + very unhappy. I should have written to you before, but I know + that you have your own trouble to bear just now, and I hated + to bother you. I arrived here punctually on the date arranged + upon between Guy and myself, and found that he had arrived the + night before, and had engaged a room for me. He was out when I + came. I changed my clothes and sat down to wait for him. He + did not return. I made inquiries and found that he had left + the hotel at eight o'clock the previous evening. To cut the + matter short, ten days have now elapsed and he has not yet + returned. + + "I have been to the Embassy, to the police, and to the Morgue. + Nowhere have I found the slightest trace of him. No one seems + to take the least interest in his disappearance. The police + shrug their shoulders, and look at me as though I ought to + understand--he will return very shortly they are quite sure. + At the Embassy they have begun to look upon me as a nuisance. + The Morgue--Heaven send that I may one day forget the horror + of my hasty visits there. I have come to the conclusion, + Andrew, that I must search for him myself. How, I do not know; + where, I do not know. But I shall not leave Paris until I have + found him. + + "Andrew, what I want is a friend here. A few months ago I + should not have hesitated a moment to ask you to come to me. + To-day that is impossible. Your presence here would only be an + embarrassment to both of us. Do you know of any one who would + come? I have not a single relative whom I can ask to help me. + Would you advise me to write to Scotland Yard for a detective, + or go to one of these agencies? If not, can you think of any + one who would come here and help me, either for your sake as + your friend, or, better still, a detective who can speak + French and whom one can trust? All our lives Guy and I have + congratulated ourselves that we have no relation nearer than + India. I am finding out the other side of it now. + + "I know that you will do what you can for me, Andrew. Write to + me by return. + + + "Yours in great trouble and distress, + + "PHYLLIS POYNTON." + +She sealed and addressed her letter, and saw it despatched. Afterwards +she crossed the courtyard to the restaurant, and did her best to eat +some dinner. When she had finished it was only half-past eight. She rang +for the lift and ascended to the fourth floor. On her way down the +corridor a sudden thought struck her. She took a key from her pocket and +entered the room which her brother had occupied. + +His things were still lying about in some disorder, and neither of his +trunks was locked. She went down on her knees and calmly proceeded to go +through his belongings. It was rather a forlorn hope, but it seemed to +her just possible that there might be in some of his pockets a letter +which would throw light upon his disappearance. She found nothing of the +sort, however. There were picture postcards, a few photographs, and a +good many restaurant bills, but they were all from places in Germany and +Austria. At the bottom of the second trunk, however, she found something +which he had evidently considered it worth while to preserve carefully. +It was a thick sheet of official-looking paper, bearing at the top an +embossed crown, and covered with German writing. It was numbered at the +top "seventeen," and it was evidently an odd sheet of some document. She +folded it carefully up, and took it back with her to her own room. Then, +with the help of a German dictionary, she commenced to study it. At the +end of an hour she had made out a rough translation, which she read +carefully through. When she had finished she was thoroughly perplexed. +She had an uncomfortable sense of having come into touch with something +wholly unexpected and mysterious. + +"What am I to do?" she said to herself softly. + +"What can it mean? Where on earth can Guy--have found this?" + +There was no one to answer her, no one to advise. An overwhelming sense +of her own loneliness brought the tears into her eyes. She sat for some +time with her face buried in her hands. Then she rose up, calmly +destroyed her translation with minute care, and locked away the +mysterious sheet at the bottom of her dressing-bag. The more she thought +of it the less, after all, she felt inclined to connect it with his +disappearance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF + + +Monsieur Albert looked over her shoulder for the man who must surely be +in attendance--but he looked in vain. + +"Mademoiselle wishes a table--for herself alone!" he repeated +doubtfully. + +"If you please," she answered. + +It was obvious that Mademoiselle was of the class which does not +frequent night cafés alone, but after all that was scarcely Monsieur +Albert's concern. She came perhaps from that strange land of the free, +whose daughters had long ago kicked over the barriers of sex with the +same abandon that Mademoiselle Flossie would display the soles of her +feet a few hours later in their national dance. If she had chanced to +raise her veil no earthly persuasions on her part would have secured for +her the freedom of that little room, for Monsieur Albert's appreciation +of likeness was equal to his memory for faces. But it was not until she +was comfortably ensconced at a corner table, from which she had a good +view of the room, that she did so, and Monsieur Albert realized with a +philosophic shrug of the shoulders the error he had committed. + +Phyllis looked about her with some curiosity. It was too early for the +habitués of the place, and most of the tables were empty. The +scarlet-coated band were smoking cigarettes, and had not yet produced +their instruments. The conductor curled his black moustache and stared +hard at the beautiful young English lady, without, however, being able +to attract a single glance in return. One or two men also tried to +convey to her by smiles and glances the fact that her solitude need +continue no longer than she chose. The unattached ladies put their heads +together and discussed her with little peals of laughter. To all of +these things she remained indifferent. She ordered a supper which she +ate mechanically, and wine which she scarcely drank. All the while she +was considering. Now that she was here what could she do? Of whom was +she to make inquiries? She scanned the faces of the newcomers with a +certain grave curiosity which puzzled them. She neither invited nor +repelled notice. She remained entirely at her ease. + +Monsieur Albert, during one of his peregrinations round the room, passed +close to her table. She stopped him. + +"I trust that Mademoiselle is well served!" he remarked with a little +bow. + +"Excellently, I thank you," she answered. + +He would have passed on, but she detained him. + +"You have very many visitors here," she remarked. "Is it the same +always?" + +He smiled. + +"To-night," he declared, "it is nothing. There are many who come here +every evening. They amuse themselves here." + +"You have a good many strangers also?" she asked. + +"But certainly," he declared. "All the time!" + +"I have a brother," she said, "who was here eleven nights ago--let me +see--that would be last Tuesday week. He is tall and fair, about +twenty-one, and they say like me. I wonder if you remember him." + +Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly. + +"That is strange," he declared, "for as a rule I forget no one. Last +Tuesday week I remember perfectly well. It was a quiet evening. La Scala +was here--but of the rest no one. If Mademoiselle's brother was here it +is most strange." + +Her lip quivered for a moment. She was disappointed. + +"I am so sorry," she said. "I hoped that you might have been able to +help me. He left the Grand Hotel on that night with the intention of +coming here--and he never returned. I have been very much worried ever +since." + +She was no great judge of character, but Monsieur Albert's sympathy did +not impress her with its sincerity. + +"If Mademoiselle desires," he said, "I will make inquiries amongst the +waiters. I very much fear, however, that she will obtain no news here." + +He departed, and Phyllis watched him talking to some of the waiters and +the leader of the orchestra. + +Presently he returned. + +"I am very sorry," he announced, "but the brother of Mademoiselle could +not have come here. I have inquired of the garçons, and of Monsieur +Jules there, who forgets no one. They answer all the same." + +"Thank you very much," she answered. "It must have been somewhere else!" + +She was unreasonably disappointed. It had been a very slender chance, +but at least it was something tangible. She had scarcely expected to +have it snapped so soon and so thoroughly. She dropped her veil to hide +the tears which she felt were not far from her eyes, and summoned the +waiter for her bill. There seemed to be no object in staying longer. +Suddenly the unexpected happened. + +A hand, flashing with jewels, was rested for a moment upon her table. +When it was withdrawn a scrap of paper remained there. + +Phyllis looked up in amazement. The girl to whom the hand had belonged +was sitting at the next table, but her head was turned away, and she +seemed to be only concerned in watching the door. She drew the scrap of +paper towards her and cautiously opened it. This is what she read, +written in English, but with a foreign turn to most of the letters:-- + + "Monsieur Albert lied. Your brother was here. Wait till I + speak to you." + +Instinctively she crumpled up this strange little note in her hand. She +struggled hard to maintain her composure. She had at once the idea that +every one in the place was looking at her. Monsieur Albert, indeed, on +his way down the room wondered what had driven the hopeless expression +from her face. + +The waiter brought her bill. She paid it and tipped him with prodigality +which for a woman was almost reckless. Then she ordered coffee, and +after a second's hesitation cigarettes. Why not? Nearly all the women +were smoking, and she desired to pass for the moment as one of them. For +the first time she ventured to gaze at her neighbor. + +It was the young lady from Vienna. She was dressed in a wonderful +demi-toilette of white lace, and she wore a large picture hat adjusted +at exactly the right angle for her profile. From her throat and bosom +there flashed the sparkle of many gems--the finger which held her +cigarette was ablaze with diamonds. She leaned back in her seat smoking +lazily, and she met Phyllis's furtive gaze with almost insolent +coldness. But a moment later, when Monsieur Albert's back was turned, +she leaned forward and addressed her rapidly. + +"A man will come here," she said, "who could tell you, if he was +willing, all that you seek to know. He will come to-night--he comes all +the nights. You will see I hold my handkerchief so in my right hand. +When he comes I shall drop it--so!" + +The girl's swift speech, her half-fearful glances towards the door, +puzzled Phyllis. + +"Can you not come nearer to me and talk?" she asked. + +"No! You must not speak to me again. You must not let any one, +especially the man himself, know what I have told you. No more now. +Watch for the handkerchief!" + +"But what shall I say to him?" + +The girl took no notice of her. She was looking in the opposite +direction. She seemed to have edged away as far as possible from her. +Phyllis drew a long breath. + +She felt her heart beating with excitement. The place suddenly seemed to +her like part of a nightmare. + +And then all was clear again. Fortune was on her side. The secret of +Guy's disappearance was in this room, and a few careless words from the +girl at the next table had told her more than an entire police system +had been able to discover. But why the mystery? What was she to say to +the man when he came? The girl from Vienna was talking to some friends +and toying carelessly with a little morsel of lace which she had drawn +from her bosom. Phyllis watched it with the eyes of a cat. Every now +and then she watched also the door. + +The place was much fuller now. Mademoiselle Flossie had arrived with a +small company of friends from Maxim's. The music was playing all the +time. The popping of corks was almost incessant, the volume of sound had +swelled. The laughter and greeting of friends betrayed more abandon than +earlier in the evening. Old acquaintances had been renewed, and new ones +made. Mademoiselle from Vienna was surrounded by a little circle of +admirers. Still she held in her right hand a crumpled up little ball of +lace. + +Men passing down the room tried to attract the attention of the +beautiful young English demoiselle who looked out upon the little scene +so indifferently as regarded individuals, and yet with such eager +interest as a whole. No one was bold enough, however, to make a second +effort. Necessity at times gives birth to a swift capacity. Fresh from +her simple country life, Phyllis found herself still able with +effortless serenity to confound the most hardened boulevarders who +paused to ogle her. Her eyes and lips expressed with ease the most +convincing and absolute indifference to their approaches. A man may +sometimes brave anger; he rarely has courage to combat indifference. So +Phyllis held her own and waited. + +And at last the handkerchief fell. Phyllis felt her own heart almost +stop beating, as she gazed down the room. A man of medium height, dark, +distinguished, was slowly approaching her, exchanging greetings on every +side. His languid eyes fell upon Phyllis. Those who had watched her +previously saw then a change. The cold indifference had vanished from +her face. She leaned forward as though anxious to attract his +attention. She succeeded easily enough. + +He was almost opposite her table, and her half smile seemed to leave him +but little choice. He touched the back of the chair which fronted hers, +and took off his hat. + +"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked softly. + +"But certainly," she answered. "It is you for whom I have been waiting!" + +"Mademoiselle flatters me!" he murmured, more than a little astonished. + +"Not in the least," she answered. "I have been waiting to ask you what +has become of my brother--Guy Poynton!" + +He drew out the chair and seated himself. His eyes never left her face. + +"Mademoiselle," he murmured, "this is most extraordinary!" + +She noticed then that his hands were trembling. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT + + +"I am asking a great deal of you, George! I know it. But you see how +helpless I am--and read the letter--read it for yourself." + +He passed Phyllis's letter across the small round dining-table. His +guest took it and read it carefully through. + +"How old is the young lady?" he asked. + +"Twenty-three!" + +"And the boy?" + +"Twenty-one." + +"Orphans, I think you said?" + +"Orphans and relationless." + +"Well off?" + +"Moderately." + +Duncombe leaned back in his chair and sipped his port thoughtfully. + +"It is an extraordinary situation!" he remarked. + +"Extraordinary indeed," his friend assented. "But so far as I am +concerned you can see how I am fixed. I am older than either of them, +but I have always been their nearest neighbor and their most intimate +friend. If ever they have needed advice they have come to me for it. If +ever I have needed a day's shooting for myself or a friend I have gone +to them. This Continental tour of theirs we discussed and planned out, +months beforehand. If my misfortune had not come on just when it did I +should have gone with them, and even up to the last we hoped that I +might be able to go to Paris with Phyllis." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Tell me about the boy," he said. + +His host shrugged his shoulders. + +"You know what they're like at that age," he remarked. "He was at +Harrow, but he shied at college, and there was no one to insist upon his +going. The pair of them had only a firm of lawyers for guardians. He's +just a good-looking, clean-minded, high-spirited young fellow, full of +beans, and needing the bit every now and then. But, of course, he's no +different from the run of young fellows of his age, and if an adventure +came his way I suppose he'd see it through." + +"And the girl?" + +Andrew Pelham rose from his seat. + +"I will show you her photograph," he said. + +He passed into an inner room divided from the dining-room by curtains. +In a moment or two he reappeared. + +"Here it is!" he said, and laid a picture upon the table. + +Now Duncombe was a young man who prided himself a little on being +unimpressionable. He took up the picture with a certain tolerant +interest and examined it, at first without any special feeling. Yet in a +moment or two he felt himself grateful for those great disfiguring +glasses from behind which his host was temporarily, at least, blind to +all that passed. A curious disturbance seemed to have passed into his +blood. He felt his eyes brighten, and his breath come a little quicker, +as he unconsciously created in his imagination the living presentment +of the girl whose picture he was still holding. Tall she was, and slim, +with a soft, white throat, and long, graceful neck; eyes rather darker +than her complexion warranted, a little narrow, but bright as stars--a +mouth with the divine lines of humor and understanding. It was only a +picture, but a realization of the living image seemed to be creeping in +upon him. He made the excuse of seeking a better light, and moved across +to a distant lamp. He bent over the picture, but it was not the picture +which he saw. He saw the girl herself, and even with the half-formed +thought he saw her expression change. He saw her eyes lit with sorrow +and appeal--he saw her arms outstretched towards him--he seemed even to +hear her soft cry. He knew then what his answer would be to his friend's +prayer. He thought no more of the excuses which he had been building in +his mind; of all the practical suggestions which he had been prepared to +make. Common-sense died away within him. The matter-of-fact man of +thirty was ready to tread in the footsteps of this great predecessor, +and play the modern knight-errant with the whole-heartedness of Don +Quixote himself. He fancied himself by her side, and his heart leaped +with joy of it. He thought no more of abandoned cricket matches and +neglected house parties. A finger of fire had been laid upon his +somewhat torpid flesh and blood. + +"Well?" Andrew asked. + +Duncombe returned to the table, and laid the picture down with a +reluctance which he could scarcely conceal. + +"Very nice photograph," he remarked. "Taken locally?" + +"I took it myself," Andrew answered. "I used to be rather great at that +sort of thing before--before my eyes went dicky." + +Duncombe resumed his seat. He helped himself to another glass of wine. + +"I presume," he said, "from the fact that you call yourself their +nearest friend, that the young lady is not engaged?" + +"No," Andrew answered slowly. "She is not engaged." + +Something a little different in his voice caught his friend's attention. +Duncombe eyed him keenly. He was conscious of a sense of apprehension. +He leaned over the table. + +"Do you mean, Andrew----?" he asked hoarsely. "Do you mean----?" + +"Yes, I mean that," his friend answered quietly. "Nice sort of old fool, +am I not? I'm twelve years older than she is, I'm only moderately well +off and less than moderately good-looking. But after all I'm only human, +and I've seen her grow up from a fresh, charming child into one of God's +wonderful women. Even a gardener, you know, George, loves the roses he +has planted and watched over. I've taught her a little and helped her a +little, and I've watched her cross the borderland." + +"Does she know?" + +Andrew shook his head doubtfully. + +"I think," he said, "that she was beginning to guess. Three months ago I +should have spoken--but my trouble came. I didn't mean to tell you this, +but perhaps it is as well that you should know. You can understand now +what I am suffering. To think of her there alone almost maddens me." + +Duncombe rose suddenly from his seat. + +"Come out into the garden, Andrew," he said. "I feel stifled here." + +His host rose and took Duncombe's arm. They passed out through the +French window on to the gravel path which circled the cedar-shaded lawn. +A shower had fallen barely an hour since, and the air was full of fresh +delicate fragrance. Birds were singing in the dripping trees, blackbirds +were busy in the grass. The perfume from the wet lilac shrubs was a very +dream of sweetness. Andrew pointed across a park which sloped down to +the garden boundary. + +"Up there, amongst the elm trees, George," he said, "can you see a gleam +of white? That is the Hall, just to the left of the rookery." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "I can see it." + +"Guy and she walked down so often after dinner," he said quietly. "I +have stood here and watched them. Sometimes she came alone. What a long +time ago that seems!" + +Duncombe's grip upon his arm tightened. + +"Andrew," he said, "I can't go!" + +There was a short silence. Andrew stood quite still. All around them was +the soft weeping of dripping shrubs. An odorous whiff from the walled +rose-garden floated down the air. + +"I'm sorry, George! It's a lot to ask you, I know." + +"It isn't that!" + +Andrew turned his head toward his friend. The tone puzzled him. + +"I don't understand." + +"No wonder, old fellow! I don't understand myself." + +There was another short silence. Andrew stood with his almost sightless +eyes turned upon his friend, and Duncombe was looking up through the elm +trees to the Hall. He was trying to fancy her as she must have appeared +to this man who dwelt alone, walking down the meadow in the evening. + +"No," he repeated softly, "I don't understand myself. You've known me +for a long time, Andrew. You wouldn't write me down as altogether a +sentimental ass, would you?" + +"I should not, George. I should never even use the word 'sentimental' in +connection with you." + +Duncombe turned and faced him squarely. He laid his hands upon his +friend's shoulders. + +"Old man," he said, "here's the truth. So far as a man can be said to +have lost his heart without rhyme or reason, I've lost mine to the girl +of that picture." + +Andrew drew a quick breath. + +"Rubbish, George!" he exclaimed. "Why, you never saw her. You don't know +her!" + +"It is quite true," Duncombe answered. "And yet--I have seen her +picture." + +His friend laughed queerly. + +"You, George Duncombe, in love with a picture. Stony-hearted George, we +used to call you. I can't believe it! I can't take you seriously. It's +all rot, you know, isn't it! It must be rot!" + +"It sounds like it," Duncombe answered quietly. "Put it this way, if you +like. I have seen a picture of the woman whom, if ever I meet, I most +surely shall love. What there is that speaks to me from that picture I +do not know. You say that only love can beget love. Then there is that +in the picture which points beyond. You see, I have talked like this in +an attempt to be honest. You have told me that you care for her. +Therefore I have told you these strange things. Now do you wish me to go +to Paris, for if you say yes I shall surely go!" + +Again Andrew laughed, and this time his mirth sounded more natural. + +"Let me see," he said. "We drank Pontet Canet for dinner. You refused +liqueurs, but I think you drank two glasses of port. George, what has +come over you? What has stirred your slow-moving blood to fancies like +these? Bah! We are playing with one another. Listen! For the sake of our +friendship, George, I beg you to grant me this great favor. Go to Paris +to-morrow and help Phyllis!" + +"You mean it?" + +"God knows I do. If ever I took you seriously, George--if ever I feared +to lose the woman I love--well, I should be a coward for my own sake to +rob her of help when she needs it so greatly. Be her friend, George, and +mine. For the rest the fates must provide!" + +"The fates!" Duncombe answered. "Ay, it seems to me that they have been +busy about my head to-night. It is settled, then. I will go!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE VANISHING LADY + + +At precisely half-past nine on the following evening Duncombe alighted +from his _petite voiture_ in the courtyard of the Grand Hotel, and +making his way into the office engaged a room. And then he asked the +question which a hundred times on the way over he had imagined himself +asking. A man to whom nervousness in any shape was almost unknown, he +found himself only able to control his voice and manner with the +greatest difficulty. In a few moments he might see her. + +"You have a young English lady--Miss Poynton--staying here, I believe," +he said. "Can you tell me if she is in now?" + +The clerk looked at him with sudden interest. + +"Miss Poynton is staying here, sir," he said. "I do not believe that she +is in just now. Will you wait one moment?" + +He disappeared rapidly, and was absent for several minutes. When he +returned he came out into the reception hall. + +"The manager would be much obliged if you would step into his office for +a moment, sir," he said confidentially. "Will you come this way?" + +Duncombe followed him into a small room behind the counter. A +gray-haired man rose from his desk and saluted him courteously. + +"Sir George Duncombe, I believe," he said. "Will you kindly take a +seat?" + +Duncombe did as he was asked. All the time he felt that the manager was +scrutinizing him curiously. + +"Your clerk," he said, "told me that you wished to speak to me." + +"Exactly!" the manager answered. "You inquired when you came in for Miss +Poynton. May I ask--are you a friend of hers?" + +"I am here on behalf of her friends," Duncombe answered. "I have letters +to her." + +The manager bowed gravely. + +"I trust," he said, "that you will soon have an opportunity to deliver +them. We are not, of course, responsible in any way for the conduct or +doings of our clients here, but I am bound to say that both the young +people of the name you mention have been the cause of much anxiety to +us." + +"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked quickly. + +"Mr. Guy Poynton," the manager continued, "arrived here about three +weeks ago, and took a room for himself and one for his sister, who was +to arrive on the following day. He went out that same evening, and has +never since returned. Of that fact you are no doubt aware." + +Duncombe nodded impatiently. + +"Yes!" he said. "That is why I am here." + +"His sister arrived on the following day, and was naturally very +distressed. We did all that we could for her. We put her in the way of +communicating with the police and the Embassy here, and we gave her +every assistance that was possible. Four nights ago Mademoiselle went +out late. Since then we have seen nothing of her. Mademoiselle also has +disappeared." + +Duncombe sprang to his feet. He was suddenly pale. + +"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Four nights ago! She went out alone, you +say?" + +"How else? She had no friends here. Once or twice at my suggestion she +had taken one of our guides with her, but she discontinued this as she +fancied that it made her conspicuous. She was all the time going round +to places making inquiries about her brother." + +Duncombe felt himself suddenly precipitated into a new world--a +nightmare of horrors. He was no stranger in the city, and grim +possibilities unfolded themselves before his eyes. Four nights ago! + +"You have sent--to the police?" + +"Naturally. But in Paris--Monsieur must excuse me if I speak plainly--a +disappearance of this sort is never regarded seriously by them. You know +the life here without doubt, Monsieur! Your accent proves that you are +well acquainted with the city. No doubt their conclusions are based upon +direct observation, and in most cases are correct--but it is very +certain that Monsieur the Superintendent regards such disappearances as +these as due to one cause only." + +Duncombe frowned, and something flashed in his eyes which made the +manager very glad that he had not put forward this suggestion on his own +account. + +"With regard to the boy," he said, "this might be likely enough. But +with regard to the young lady it is of course wildly preposterous. I +will go to the police myself," he added, rising. + +"One moment, Sir George," the manager continued. "The disappearance of +the young lady was a source of much trouble to me, and I made all +possible inquiries within the hotel. I found that on the day of her +disappearance Mademoiselle had been told by one of the attendants in +the barber's shop, who had waited upon her brother on the night of his +arrival, that he--Monsieur Guy--had asked for the name of some cafés for +supper, and that he had recommended Café Montmartre. Mademoiselle +appears to have decided to go there herself to make inquiries. We have +no doubt that when she left the hotel on the night of her disappearance +it was to there that she went." + +"You have told the police this?" + +"Yes, I have told them," the manager answered dryly. "Here is their +latest report, if you care to see it." + +Duncombe took the little slip of paper and read it hastily. + + "Disappearance of Mademoiselle Poynton, from England.--We + regret to state no trace has been discovered of the missing + young lady. + + "(Signed) JULES LEGARDE, Superintendent." + +"That was only issued a few hours ago," the manager said. + +"And I thought," Duncombe said bitterly, "that the French police were +the best in the world!" + +The manager said nothing. Duncombe rose from his chair. + +"I shall go myself to the Café Montmartre," he said. The manager bowed. + +"I shall be glad," he said, "to divest myself of any further +responsibility in this matter. It has been a source of much anxiety to +the directors as well as myself." + +Duncombe walked out of the room, and putting on his coat again called +for a _petite voiture_. He gave the man the address in the Rue St. +Honoré and was driven to a block of flats there over some shops. + +"Is Monsieur Spencer in?" he asked the concierge. He was directed to the +first floor. An English man-servant admitted him, and a few moments +later he was shaking hands with a man who was seated before a table +covered with loose sheets of paper. + +"Duncombe, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. +"Why, I thought that you had shaken the dust of the city from your feet +forever, and turned country squire. Sit down! What will you have?" + +"First of all, am I disturbing you?" + +Spencer shook his head. + +"I've no Press work to-night," he answered. "I've a clear hour to give +you at any rate. When did you come?" + +"Two-twenty from Charing Cross," Duncombe answered. "I can't tell you +how thankful I am to find you in, Spencer. I'm over on a very serious +matter, and I want your advice." + +Spencer touched the bell. Cigars and cigarettes, whisky and soda, +appeared as though by magic. + +"Now help yourself and go ahead, old chap," his host declared. "I'm a +good listener." + +He proved himself so, sitting with half-closed eyes and an air of close +attention until he had heard the whole story. He did not once interrupt, +but when Duncombe had finished he asked a question. + +"What did you say was the name of this café where the boy had +disappeared?" + +"Café Montmartre." + +Spencer sat up in his chair. His expression had changed. + +"The devil!" he murmured softly. + +"You know the place?" + +"Very well. It has an extraordinary reputation. I am sorry to say it, +Duncombe, but it is a very bad place for your friend to have disappeared +from." + +"Why?" + +"In the first place it is the resort of a good many of the most +dangerous people in Europe--people who play the game through to the end. +It is a perfect hot-bed of political intrigue, and it is under police +protection." + +"Police protection! A place like that!" Duncombe exclaimed. + +"Not as you and I understand it, perhaps," Spencer explained. "There is +no Scotland Yard extending a protecting arm over the place, and that +sort of thing. But the place is haunted by spies, and there are +intrigues carried on there in which the secret service police often take +a hand. In return it is generally very hard to get to the bottom of any +disappearance or even robbery there through the usual channels. To the +casual visitor, and of course it attracts thousands from its reputation, +it presents no more dangers perhaps than the ordinary night café of its +sort. But I could think of a dozen men in Paris to-day, who, if they +entered it, I honestly believe would never be seen again." + +Spencer was exaggerating, Duncombe murmured to himself. He was a +newspaper correspondent, and he saw these things with the halo of +melodrama around them. And yet--four nights ago. His face was white and +haggard. + +"The boy," he said, "could have been no more than an ordinary visitor. +He had no great sum of money with him, he had no secrets, he did not +even speak the language. Surely he would have been too small fry for the +intriguers of such a place!" + +"One would think so," Spencer answered musingly. "You are sure that he +was only what you say?" + +"He was barely twenty-one," Duncombe answered, "and he had never been +out of England before." + +"What about the girl?" + +"She is two years older. It was her first visit to Paris." Spencer +nodded. + +"The disappearance of the boy is of course the riddle," he remarked. "If +you solve that you arrive also at his sister's whereabouts. Upon my +word, it is a poser. If it had been the boy alone--well, one could +understand. The most beautiful ladies in Paris are at the Montmartre. No +one is admitted who is not what they consider--chic! The great dancers +and actresses are given handsome presents to show themselves there. On a +representative evening it is probably the most brilliant little roomful +in Europe. The boy of course might have lost his head easily enough, and +then been ashamed to face his sister. But when you tell me of her +disappearance, too, you confound me utterly. Is she good-looking?" + +"Very!" + +"She would go there, of course, asking for her brother," Spencer +continued thoughtfully. "An utterly absurd thing to do, but no doubt she +did, and--look here, Duncombe, I tell you what I'll do. I have my own +two news-grabbers at hand, and nothing particular for them to do this +evening. I'll send them up to the Café Montmartre." + +"It's awfully good of you, Spencer. I was going myself," Duncombe said, +a little doubtfully. + +"You idiot!" his friend said cheerfully, yet with a certain emphasis. +"English from your hair to your boots, you'd go in there and attempt to +pump people who have been playing the game all their lives, and who +would give you exactly what information suited their books. They'd know +what you were there for, the moment you opened your mouth. Honestly, +what manner of good do you think that you could do? You'd learn what +they chose to tell you. If there's really anything serious behind all +this, do you suppose it would be the truth?" + +"You're quite right, I suppose," Duncombe admitted, "but it seems +beastly to be doing nothing." + +"Better be doing nothing than doing harm!" Spencer declared. "Look round +the other cafés and the boulevards. And come here at eleven to-morrow +morning. We'll breakfast together at Paillard's." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE + + +Spencer wrote out his luncheon with the extreme care of the man to whom +eating has passed to its proper place amongst the arts, and left to +Duncombe the momentous question of red wine or white. Finally, he leaned +back in his chair, and looked thoughtfully across at his companion. + +"Sir George," he said, "you have placed me in a very painful position." + +Duncombe glanced up from his _hors d'oeuvre_. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I will explain," Spencer continued. "You came to me last night with a +story in which I hope that I showed a reasonable amount of interest, but +in which, as a matter of fact, I was not interested at all. Girls and +boys who come to Paris for the first time in their lives unattended, and +find their way to the Café Montmartre, and such places, generally end up +in the same place. It would have sounded brutal if I had added to your +distress last night by talking like this, so I determined to put you in +the way of finding out for yourself. I sent two of my most successful +news-scouts to that place last night, and I had not the slightest doubt +as to the nature of the information which they would bring back. It +turns out that I was mistaken." + +"What did they discover?" Duncombe asked eagerly. + +"Nothing!" + +Duncombe's face fell, but he looked a little puzzled. + +"Nothing? I don't understand. They must have heard that they had been +there anyhow." + +"They discovered nothing. You do not understand the significance of +this. I do! It means that I was mistaken for one thing. Their +disappearance has more in it than the usual significance. Evil may have +come to them, but not the ordinary sort of evil. Listen! You say that +the police have disappointed you in having discovered nothing. That is +no longer extraordinary to me. The police, or those who stand behind +them, are interested in this case, and in the withholding of information +concerning it." + +"You are talking riddles to me, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "Do you +mean that the police in Paris may become the hired tools of +malefactors?" + +"Not altogether that," Spencer said, waving aside a dish presented +before him by the head waiter himself with a gesture of approval. "Not +necessarily malefactors. But there are other powers to be taken into +consideration, and most unaccountably your two friends are in deeper +water than your story led me to expect. Now, not another question, +please, until you have tried that sauce. Absolute silence, if you +please, for at least three or four minutes." + +Duncombe obeyed with an ill grace. He had little curiosity as to its +flavor, and a very small appetite at all with the conversation in its +present position. He waited for the stipulated time, however, and then +leaned once more across the table. + +"Spencer!" + +"First I must have your judgment upon the sauce. Did you find enough +mussels?" + +"Damn the sauce!" Duncombe answered. "Forgive me, Spencer, but this +affair is, after all, a serious one to me. You say that your two scouts, +as you call them, discovered nothing. Well, they had only one evening at +it. Will they try again in other directions? Can I engage them to work +for me? Money is absolutely no object." + +Spencer shook his head. + +"Duncombe," he said, "you're going to think me a poor sort of friend, +but the truth is best. You must not count upon me any more. I cannot +lift even my little finger to help you. I can only give you advice if +you want it." + +"And that?" + +"Go back to England to-morrow. Chuck it altogether. You are up against +too big a combination. You can do no one any good. You are a great deal +more likely to come to harm yourself." + +Duncombe was quite quiet for several moments. When he spoke again his +manner had a new stiffness. + +"You have surprised me a good deal, I must confess, Spencer. We will +abandon the subject." + +Spencer shrugged his shoulders. + +"I know how you're feeling, old chap," he said. "I can't help it. You +understand my position here. I write a daily letter for the best paying +and most generous newspaper in the world, and it is absolutely necessary +that I keep hand in glove with the people in high places here. My +position absolutely demands it, and my duty to my chief necessitates my +putting all personal feeling on one side in a case like this when a +conflict arises." + +"But where," Duncombe asked, "does the conflict arise?" + +"Here!" Spencer answered. "I received a note this morning from a great +personage in this country to whom I am under more obligation than any +other breathing man, requesting me to refrain from making any further +inquiries or assisting any one else to make them in this matter. I can +assure you that I was thunderstruck, but the note is in my pocket at the +present moment." + +"Does it mention them by name?" + +"The exact words are," Spencer answered, "'respecting the reported +disappearance of the young Englishman, Mr. Guy Poynton, and his sister.' +This will just show you how much you have to hope for from the police, +for the person whose signature is at the foot of that note could command +the implicit obedience of the whole system." + +Duncombe's cheeks were a little flushed. He was British to the backbone, +and his obstinacy was being stirred. + +"The more reason," he said quietly, "so far as I can see, that I should +continue my independent efforts with such help as I can secure. This +girl and boy are fellow country-people, and I haven't any intention of +leaving them in the clutches of any brutal gang of Frenchmen into whose +hands they may have got. I shall go on doing what I can, Spencer." + +The journalist shrugged his shoulders. + +"I can't help sympathizing with you, Duncombe," he said, "but keep +reasonable. You know your Paris well enough to understand that you +haven't a thousand to one chance. Besides, Frenchmen are not brutal. If +the boy got into a scrape, it was probably his own fault." + +"And the girl? What of her? Am I to leave her to the tender mercies of +whatever particular crew of blackguards may have got her into their +power?" + +"You are needlessly melodramatic," Spencer answered. "I will admit, of +course, that her position may be an unfortunate one, but the personage +whom I have the honor to call my friend does not often protect +blackguards. Be reasonable, Duncombe! These young people are not +relatives of yours, are they?" + +"No!" + +"Nor very old friends? The young lady, for instance?" + +Duncombe looked up, and his face was set in grim and dogged lines. He +felt like a man who was nailing his colors to the mast. + +"The young lady," he said, "is, I pray Heaven, my future wife!" + +Spencer was honestly amazed, and a little shocked. + +"Forgive me, Duncombe," he said. "I had no idea--though perhaps I ought +to have guessed." + +They went on with their luncheon in silence for some time, except for a +few general remarks. But after the coffee had been brought and the +cigarettes were alight, Spencer leaned once more across the table. + +"Tell me, Duncombe, what you mean to do." + +"I shall go to the Café Montmartre myself to-night. At such a place +there must be hangers-on and parasites who see something of the game. I +shall try to come into touch with them. I am rich enough to outbid the +others who exact their silence." + +"You must be rich enough to buy their lives then," Spencer answered +gravely, "for if you do succeed in tempting any one to betray the inner +happenings of that place on which the seal of silence has been put, you +will hear of them in the Morgue before a fortnight has passed." + +"They must take their risk," Duncombe said coldly. "I am going to stuff +my pockets with money to-night, and I shall bid high. I shall leave word +at the hotel where I am going. If anything happens to me there--well, I +don't think the Café Montmartre will flourish afterwards." + +"Duncombe," his friend said gravely, "nothing will happen to you at the +Café Montmartre. Nothing ever does happen to any one there. You remember +poor De Laurson?" + +"Quite well. He was stabbed by a girl in the Rue Pigalle." + +"He was stabbed in the Café Montmartre, but his body was found in the +Rue Pigalle. Then there was the Vicomte de Sauvinac." + +"He was found dead in his study--poisoned." + +"He was found there--yes, but the poison was given to him in the Café +Montmartre, and it was there that he died. I am behind the scenes in +some of these matters, but I know enough to hold my tongue, or my London +letter wouldn't be worth a pound a week. I am giving myself away to you +now, Duncombe. I am risking a position which it has taken me twenty +years to secure. I've got to tell you these things, and you must do as I +tell you. Go back to London!" + +Duncombe laughed as he rose to his feet. + +"Not though the Vicomte's fate is to be mine to-night," he answered. +"The worse hell this place is the worse the crew it must shelter. I +should never hold my head up again if I sneaked off home and left the +girl in their hands. I don't see how you can even suggest it." + +"Only because you can't do the least good," Spencer answered. "And +besides, don't run away with a false impression. The place is dangerous +only for certain people. The authorities don't protect murderers or +thieves except under special circumstances. The Vicomte's murderer and +De Laurson's were brought to justice. Only they keep the name of the +place out of it always. Tourists in shoals visit it, and visit safely +every evening. They pay fancy prices for what they have, but I think +they get their money's worth. But for certain classes of people it is +the decoy house of Europe. Foreign spies have babbled away their secrets +there, and the greatest criminals of the world have whispered away their +lives to some fair daughter of Judas at those tables. I, who am behind +the scenes, tell you these things, Duncombe." + +Duncombe smiled. + +"To-morrow," he said, "you may add another victim to your chamber of +horrors!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DUNCOMBE'S "HOLD-UP" + + +The amber wine fell in a little wavering stream from his upraised glass +on to the table-cloth below. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at +his three guests with a fatuous smile. The girl in blue, with the +dazzlingly fair hair and wonderful complexion, steadied his hand and +exchanged a meaning look with the man who sat opposite. Surely the poor +fool was ready for the plucking? But Madame, who sat beside her, frowned +upon them both. She had seen things which had puzzled her. She signed to +them to wait. + +She leaned over and flashed her great black eyes upon him. + +"Monsieur enjoys himself like this every night in Paris?" + +A soft, a very seductive, voice. The woman who envied her success +compared it to the purring of a cat. Men as a rule found no fault with +it, especially those who heard it for the first time. + +Duncombe set down his glass, now almost empty. He looked from the stain +on the table-cloth into the eyes of Madame, and again she thought them +very unlike the eyes of a drunken man. + +"Why not? It's the one city in the world to enjoy one's self in. +Half-past four, and here we are as jolly as anything. Chucked out of +everywhere in London at half-past twelve. 'Time, gentlemen, please!' +And out go the lights. Jove, I wonder what they'd think of this at the +Continental! Let's--let's have another bottle." + +The fair-haired girl--Flossie to her friends, Mademoiselle Mermillon +until you had been introduced--whispered in his ear. He shook his head +vaguely. She had her arm round his neck. He removed it gently. + +"We'll have another here first anyhow," he declared. "Hi, Garçon! Ring +the bell, there's a good chap, Monsieur--dash it, I've forgotten your +name. No, don't move. I'll do it myself." + +He rose and staggered towards the door. + +"The bell isn't that way, Monsieur," Madame exclaimed. "It is to the +right. Louis, quick!" + +Monsieur Louis sprang to his feet. There was a queer grating little +sound, followed by a sharp click. Duncombe had swung round and faced +them. He had turned the key in the door, and was calmly pocketing it. +The hand which held that small shining revolver was certainly not the +hand of a drunken man. + +They all three looked at him in wonder--Madame, Monsieur Louis, and +Mademoiselle Flossie. The dark eyebrows of Madame almost met, and her +eyes were full of the promise of evil things. Monsieur Louis, cowering +back from that steadily pointed revolver, was white with the inherited +cowardice of the degenerate. Flossie, who had drunk more wine than any +of them, was trying to look as though it were a joke. Duncombe, with his +disordered evening clothes, his stained shirt-front and errant tie, was +master of the situation. He came and stood a few feet away from them. +His blundering French accent and slow choice of words had departed. He +spoke to them without hesitation, and his French was almost as good as +their own. + +"I want you to keep your places," he said, "and listen to me for a few +minutes. I can assure you I am neither mad nor drunk. I have a few +questions to ask you, and if your answers are satisfactory you may yet +find my acquaintance as profitable as though I had been the pigeon I +seemed. Keep your seat, Monsieur le Baron!" + +Monsieur Louis, who had half risen, sat down again hastily. They all +watched him from their places around the table. It was Madame whom he +addressed more directly--Madame with the jet black hair and golden +earrings, the pale cheeks and scarlet lips. + +"I invited you into a private room here," he said, "because what I have +said to you three is between ourselves alone. You came, I presume, +because it promised to be profitable. All that I want from you is +information. And for that I am willing to pay." + +Monsieur Louis interposed. He stroked his little black moustache with a +much beringed hand. With the other he gesticulated. + +"Monsieur talks reasonably," he declared, "but why all this mystery? Why +this feigned drunkenness? Why the show of arms? If we can help +Monsieur--it is an affair of pleasure, and if he chooses to make a +present to these ladies in return--why, no doubt they will be charmed. +Me, I presume, he has no intention to insult. Permit me, Monsieur." + +He drew a card from a small gold case, and presented it to Duncombe, who +accepted it with a little bow. + +"If I can aid you in any way," Monsieur Louis continued, "I am entirely +at your service, but I require first of all that in addressing us you +recognize my position as a French nobleman, who amuses himself in this +place as you, Monsieur, also do, and also that you unlock that door." + +Duncombe smiled quietly. + +"Monsieur le Baron," he said, "I think that we are very well as we +are--secure from interruption. I have sent others here on this same +mission, and they did not succeed. Both of these ladies, I believe, have +been approached for the information I desire, and they have thought well +to withhold it. I have set my heart upon success this time, and I wish +to secure at least the opportunity of being heard." + +Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders. + +"There are secrets," he murmured; "affairs of honor----" + +Duncombe interrupted him. + +"Monsieur Louis," he said, "I am not so young as I look, and I have +lived in Paris. I know that this café, for all its outward smartness, +bears perhaps the worst reputation in Europe. I have heard of you three +many times--the 'Trinity from Hell,' they call you sometimes, I think. +You see I know where I am and the risk I run. Even this little room has +its secrets--a murder or two, I believe, and other things--secrets which +I don't suppose there is gold enough in France to buy. Well, I don't +want to buy them. You can go your way so far as I am concerned. There is +only one thing I want to know from you, and for that I offer you--the +ladies, of course, I mean--five thousand francs each." + +"Five thousand francs!" Madame murmured. + +Mademoiselle Flossie said nothing, but her eyes shone. + +"The question, Monsieur?" + +"What has become of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton, the young English +lady?" + +The eyes of Madame seemed to narrow for a moment. Monsieur Louis lit a +cigarette with fingers which shook a little, and the fair face of +Mademoiselle Flossie was suddenly white. Then they all three looked at +one another. + +"Do you know whom Monsieur may mean?" + +"Not I!" + +"An English girl! There are none come here." + +"Mademoiselle Poynton! It is a name unheard of." + +The young Englishman smiled upon them grimly. + +"Madame," he said, "you have in your satchel--don't move, if you +please--a roll of French notes--indeed you must not move--very cleverly +abstracted from my pocket by my charming young companion, Mademoiselle +Flossie here. Now I have at least half a dozen friends in the café below +whom I could summon here by touching that bell, and the identification +of those notes would be a perfectly simple matter. Shall I do it? Or +will you earn another roll by giving me the information I seek?" + +Madame leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear. Monsieur Louis +nodded. + +"Tell him," Mademoiselle Flossie murmured tremulously. "Monsieur will +not break faith with us. He will not let it be known from whence he +gained the knowledge." + +"Agreed!" the young Englishman declared. "Go on." + +Madame held up her hand. + +"I," she said, "will tell Monsieur what we know." + +She rose to her feet and leaned over the table. The blue-black sequins +on her dress glittered and shone in the dull light. Her figure was +superb, her neck and bosom a flawless white. The Englishman, however, +was unmoved. His keen gray eyes were fixed upon her, but the revolver +remained in his right hand. From downstairs they could hear the music of +violins, the rattle of glasses, the hum of voices and laughter. Madame +frowned slightly as she marked the young Englishman's alertness. She was +used to victims, and his imperturbability annoyed her. + +"I trust," she said, "that you will remember, Monsieur, that I am +breaking a pledged word. If Monsieur the Director here knew that I was +telling you of Mademoiselle Poynton there would be much trouble for all +of us." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Go on," he said. + +"Mademoiselle came here first about a month or perhaps six weeks ago," +she said. "From that time on she was a regular visitor. She came alone. +She spoke to no one. She was always a mystery. She was very handsomely +dressed--for an English girl, quite chic! She spent money, and Monsieur +Albert the director kept always a table for her. As time went on we +began to feel the mystery. We asked ourselves for what purpose does she +come here? For what, indeed! + +"One night Monsieur Albert, who was always besieged with questions about +her, took too much wine. I have seen that happen with him but +once--since that time never. He told us about Mademoiselle. She made +some inquiries about her brother, and Monsieur Albert was able to tell +her his whereabouts. After that he scarcely expected to see her again, +but the next night she was here also. + +"Then Monsieur Albert learned more. Mademoiselle was in a small way an +artist, and she had conceived the idea of painting a picture of the +café--an early morning picture of effects, Monsieur understands. There +was to be the morning sunlight streaming across the supper-tables, the +faces of all of us aged and haggard. Monsieur Louis here, without doubt, +a very child of the devil! Oh, a very moral picture, Monsieur. It was to +convert us all. Monsieur Albert declared that he would arrange to have +it here on exhibition, and we should all mend our ways. Monsieur knew +perhaps that the young lady was an artist?" + +The question was flashed suddenly upon him as though the intention was +to take him by surprise. Duncombe, however, remained unmoved. + +"I am here, Madame, to ask, not to answer, questions," he said. "Will +you kindly proceed? I am greatly interested." + +Madame put her hand to her throat for a moment as though to loosen her +necklace. She had not the appearance of being greatly in love with her +questioner. + +"There came a night," she continued, "when Mademoiselle broke through +her rule. A man came in and sat at her table. His name was the Vicomte +D'Aubarde, and he was known to most of us, though to the young lady he +appeared to be a stranger. They talked earnestly for an hour or more. +When she left--he accompanied her!" + +The Englishman had grown paler. Madame saw it and smiled. Her lover +perhaps! It was good to make him suffer. + +"Flossie here," she continued, "was outside, and saw them depart. They +drove off together in the Vicomte's coupé. They were apparently on the +best of terms. Since then we have not seen her again--nor the Vicomte. +Monsieur knows now as much as we know." + +"And how long ago is that?" Duncombe asked quietly. + +"A week to-night," Madame replied. + +Duncombe laid down a roll of notes upon the table. + +"I wish," he said, "to prove to you that I am in earnest. I am therefore +going to pay you the amount I promised, although I am perfectly well +aware that the story of Madame is--false!" + +"Monsieur!" + +"As I remarked," he repeated, "false. Now listen to me. I want to tempt +one of you, I don't care which, to break through this thieves' compact +of yours. I have paid a thousand francs for lies--I will pay ten +thousand francs for truth! Ten thousand francs for the present +whereabouts of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton!" + +Mademoiselle Flossie looked up at him quickly. Then she glanced +furtively at Madame, and the flash of Madame's eyes was like lightning +upon blue steel. Duncombe moved towards the door. + +"I will pay the bill downstairs," he said. "Good night! Think over what +I have said. Ten thousand francs!" + +Monsieur Louis stood up and bowed stiffly. Mademoiselle Flossie +ventured to throw him a kiss. Madame smiled inscrutably. + +The door closed. They heard him go downstairs. Madame picked up his card +and read aloud. + + Sir George Duncombe, + Risley Hall, + Norfolk. + + Grand Hotel, Paris. + +"If one could only," Madame murmured, "tell him the truth, collect the +money--and----" + +"And," Flossie murmured, half fearfully. + +Monsieur le Baron smiled! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE STORY OF A CALL + + +Mademoiselle Mermillon was not warmly welcomed at the Grand Hotel. The +porter believed that Sir George Duncombe was out. He would inquire, if +Mademoiselle would wait, but he did not usher her into the drawing-room, +as would have been his duty in an ordinary case, or even ask her to take +a seat. + +Mademoiselle Mermillon was of the order of young person who resents, but +this afternoon she was far too nervous. During the porter's temporary +absence she started at every footstep, and scrutinized anxiously every +passer-by. Often she looked behind her through the glass doors into the +street. When at last he reappeared alone her disappointment was obvious. + +"Sir George Duncombe is out, Mademoiselle," he announced. "Will you be +pleased to leave a message, or your name?" + +"You do not know how long he will be?" she inquired. + +"Sir George left no word," the man answered. "He has been out since +before _déjeuner_." + +Mademoiselle decided to leave a note. The porter supplied her with +notepaper and envelopes. She sat down at a small round table, and once +more glanced furtively around. Convinced that she was not being watched, +she hastily wrote a few lines, sealed and addressed the envelope, and +handed it to the porter. + +"You will give this to Sir George immediately he returns," she begged. +"It is important." + +"Monsieur shall have it without doubt, Mademoiselle," the man answered. + +She pulled down her veil and left the place hurriedly. When she reached +the boulevard she slackened her pace, and drew a little breath of +relief. + +"Ten thousand francs!" she murmured to herself. "If I took that with me +they would receive me at home. I might start all over again. It is worth +a little risk. Heavens, how nervous I am!" + +She entered a café and drank _à petit verre_. As she set her glass down +a man looked at her over the top of his newspaper. She tried to smile, +but her heart was beating, and she was sick with fear. + +"What a fool I am!" she muttered. "It is a stranger, too. If he were one +of Gustav's lot I should know him." + +She returned his smile, and he came and sat down beside her. They had +another liqueur. Later they left the place together. + + * * * * * + +Duncombe returned to his hotel tired out after a disappointing day spent +in making fruitless inquiries in various parts of Paris. He had learnt +nothing. He seemed as far off the truth as ever. He opened the note +which the porter handed him listlessly enough. Afterwards, however, it +was different. This is what he read:-- + + "I can tell you about the young English lady if you will + promise upon your honor that you will not betray me. I dare + not come here again. I dare not even speak to you while the + others are about. Go to the Café Sylvain to-night and order + dinner in a private room. I will come at half-past + seven.--FLOSSIE." + +Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief. At last then he was to know +something. He was very English, a bad amateur detective, and very weary +of his task. Nothing but his intense interest in the girl herself--an +interest which seemed to have upset the whole tenor of his life--would +have kept him here plodding so relentlessly away at a task which seemed +daily to present more difficulties and complications. Yet so absorbed +had he become that the ordinary duties and pleasures which made up the +routine of his life scarcely ever entered into his mind. There had been +men coming down to shoot, whom in an ordinary way he would not have +dreamed of putting off--a cricket match which had been postponed until +his return, and which he had completely forgotten. Paris had nothing in +the shape of amusement to offer him in place of these things, yet in his +own mind these things were as if they had not been. Every interest and +energy of his life was concentrated upon the one simple object of his +search. + +He gave the man half a crown, and walked to the lift whistling. The +porter shook his head, and Duncombe receded considerably in his +estimation, notwithstanding the tip. He considered Mademoiselle Flossie +a little obvious for a gentleman of Duncombe's class. Duncombe treated +himself to a cocktail and a cigarette as he changed his clothes. It was +positively the first gleam of hope he had had. And then suddenly he +remembered Spencer's warning, and he became grave. + +He was at the Café Sylvain early. He ordered dinner, gave elaborate +instructions about a young lady when she arrived, and with a glass of +absinthe and another cigarette sat down to wait. At a quarter to eight +he began to get restless. He summoned the waiter again, and gave a more +detailed description of Mademoiselle Flossie. The waiter was regretful +but positive. No young lady of any description had arrived expecting to +meet a gentleman in a private room. Duncombe tried him with her name. +But yes, Mademoiselle Mermillon was exceedingly well known there! He +would give orders that she should be shown up immediately she arrived. +It would be soon, without doubt. + +At a quarter-past eight Duncombe dined alone, too disappointed to resent +the waiter's sympathetic attitude. At nine o'clock he returned to the +hotel on the chance that a message might have been sent there. He read +the English newspapers, and wrote letters until midnight. Then he +ordered a carriage and drove to the Café Montmartre. + +He mounted the stairs and passed through the little bar which led into +the supper-room. Monsieur Albert came forward with a low bow. + +"You can find me a table, I suppose?" Duncombe remarked, looking round. +"Where shall I sit?" + +Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly. His hands were outstretched, his +manner sad, but resigned. + +"I am very sorry, Monsieur, but to-night every place is taken. I have +had to turn others away already," he declared. "A thousand regrets." + +Duncombe looked at him astonished. The place was more than half empty. + +"Surely you can find me a small table somewhere," he said. "I was here +last evening, you know. If it is because I am alone I will order supper +for two and a magnum of wine." + +Monsieur Albert was immovable. He remembered Duncombe well, and he was +proud of his patronage, but to-night it was impossible to offer him a +table. Duncombe began to be annoyed. + +"Very well," he said, "I will stay in the bar. You can't turn me out of +there, can you?" + +Monsieur Albert was evasive. He desired Monsieur Duncombe to be amused, +and the people who remained in the bar--well, it was not possible to get +rid of them, but they were not fitting company for him. + +"There is the Café Mazarin," he added confidentially, "a few steps only +from here--a most amusing place. The most wonderful ladies there, too, +very chic, and crowded every night! Monsieur should really try it. The +commissionaire would direct him--a few yards only." + +"Much obliged to you," Duncombe answered, turning on his heel. "I may +look in there presently." + +He seated himself at a small round table and ordered a drink. The people +here were of a slightly different class from those who had the _entrée_ +to the supper-room and were mostly crowded round the bar itself. At a +small desk within a few feet of him a middle-aged woman with a cold, +hard face sat with a book of account before her and a pile of bills. +There was something almost Sphynx-like about her appearance. She never +spoke. Her expression never changed. Once their eyes met. She looked at +him steadfastly, but said nothing. The girl behind the bar also took +note of him. She was very tall and slim, absolutely colorless, and with +coils of fair hair drawn tightly back from her forehead. She was never +without a cigarette, lighting a fresh one always from its predecessor, +talking all the while unceasingly, but without the slightest change of +expression. Once she waved the men and girls who stood talking to her on +one side, and Duncombe fancied that it was because she desired a better +view of him. + +Suddenly he was startled by a voice close at hand. He looked up. The +woman at the desk was speaking to him. + +"Monsieur would be well advised," she said, "if he departed." + +Duncombe looked at her in amazement. She was writing rapidly in her +book, and her eyes were fixed upon her work. If he had not actually +heard her, it would have been hard to believe that she had spoken. + +"But why, Madame?" he asked. "Why should I go? I am in no one's way. I +can pay for what I have." + +She dipped her pen in the ink. + +"I know nothing of Monsieur or his business," she said, still without +even glancing towards him, "but I know that Monsieur Albert does not +wish him to remain." + +"The devil take Monsieur Albert!" Duncombe answered angrily. "I am +waiting to speak to some one who comes here regularly, and I shall stay +until she comes." + +The woman wrote steadily for a moment. Then she blotted the page on +which she had been writing, and raising her head, looked at him. + +"It is no affair of mine," she said, "but Monsieur Albert has sent for +the police. They may say that you have had too much wine, or that you +owe money. In either case you will be removed. The police will not +listen to you. Monsieur Albert has special discretion. It is no affair +of mine," she repeated, "but if I were Monsieur I would go." + +Duncombe rose slowly to his feet, and summoning a waiter paid his bill. +The man produced a second one, dated a few days back, for a large +amount. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "I do not owe you anything." + +"Monsieur was here with a party last Thursday night," he said glibly. +"He promised to pay the next time. I will call the manager." + +Duncombe tore the bill in half and turned away. He bowed to the lady at +the desk. + +"I see that you were right," he said. "I will leave." + +"Monsieur is wise," she answered without looking up. + +He left the café without speaking to any one further. When he reached +the pavement he slipped a five-franc piece into the hand of the tall +commissionaire. + +"You know most of the young ladies who come here, I suppose?" he asked. + +"But certainly!" the man answered with a smile, "Monsieur desires?" + +"I want the address of a young lady named Mermillon--Flossie, I think +they call her," Duncombe said. + +"Thirty-one, Rue Pigalle," the man answered promptly. "But she should be +here within an hour. She never misses." + +Duncombe thanked him, and hailed a carriage. + +"Shall I give Mademoiselle any message?" the man asked confidentially. + +"I am going to call for her," Duncombe answered. "If I do not find her I +will return." + +To drive to the Rue Pigalle was an affair of five minutes only. Duncombe +climbed a couple of flights of narrow stairs, pushed open a swing gate, +and found himself in front of an office, in which an elderly woman sat +reading. + +"Can you tell me where to find Mademoiselle Mermillon?" Duncombe asked. + +"Next floor; first door on the left," the woman answered. "Mademoiselle +is not often in at this hour, though." + +Duncombe thanked her, and climbed another flight of stairs. He had to +strike a match to look for a bell or knocker, and then found neither. He +knocked on the door with his knuckles. There was no reply. He was on the +point of departure, when he noticed that the door was ajar. After a +moment's hesitation he pushed it open. + +He found himself in a narrow passage, with dresses and other articles of +apparel hanging from a row of pegs on the wall. The place was in +complete darkness. He struck another match. At the end of the passage +was an inner door, also ajar. He rapped upon it, and finally pushed it +open. Just then his match went out! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SPENCER'S SURPRISE + + +Duncombe had the nerves and temperament of the young Englishman of his +class, whose life is mostly spent out of doors, and who has been an +athlete all his days. But nevertheless at that moment he was afraid. +Something in the stillness of the room oppressed him. He could see +nothing, hear nothing except the clock ticking upon the mantlepiece. And +yet he was afraid. + +He fumbled desperately in his pocket for his matchbox. When he had found +it he discovered that it was empty. With a sense of positive relief he +backed out of the room and hastily descended the stairs. The old lady +was still in her sitting-room reading the paper. She set it down at his +entrance, and looked at him over the top of her spectacles. + +"Pardon, Madame," he said, removing his hat, "I find the rooms of +Mademoiselle are open, but all is in darkness. I cannot make any one +hear." + +Madame took up her paper. + +"Then Mademoiselle is probably out," she declared. "It is generally so +at this hour. Monsieur can leave his name." + +"But the doors are all open!" Duncombe said. + +"I go presently and close them," Madame answered. "The careless hussy!" + +Duncombe produced a small piece of gold. Madame laid down the paper at +once. She looked at it as though ready to snatch it from his hand. + +"Madame would oblige me very much if she would ascend with me at once," +Duncombe said. "I should like to make quite sure whether the young lady +is there or not." + +Madame was on her feet with remarkable celerity. She accepted the coin +and carefully placed it in a purse drawn from somewhere amongst the +folds of her voluminous skirts. + +"We shall need a candle," Duncombe reminded her. + +She lit a lamp, talking all the while. + +"Monsieur is very generous," she declared. "Mademoiselle Flossie is a +charming young lady. No wonder she has many friends. There was one," she +continued, "who came here with her this afternoon--but he left almost at +once," she added hastily, aware of her indiscretion. "Ah, these stairs! +They grow steeper for one so corpulent. At last!" + +She pushed open the door and went sideways down the narrow passage. +Directly they had entered it they had a view of the room beyond. Madame +cried out, and Duncombe felt all his vague fears spring into a terrified +apprehension of actual evil. + +The curtain before the window had been hastily drawn, but the lamp which +the portress carried was sufficient feebly to illuminate the room. The +table-cloth and a broken vase lay upon the floor. A few feet off was an +overturned chair. Upon the canopied bed lay a prostrate figure, the head +thrown back at an unnatural angle, the eyes open but glazed. Duncombe +dared do no more than cast one single horrified glance at it. Madame set +down the lamp upon the table, and made the room hideous with shrieks. + +"Good God!" she cried. "It is the little one who is dead!" + +Duncombe himself fetched in the gendarmes, and waited whilst they took +voluminous notes of the occurrence. The murder seemed to them and to +Madame to be one of a very common class. The assassin had left no clue +whatever behind him. The poor girl's rings had been torn from her +fingers, her little stock of jewellery ransacked, her purse was empty, +everything of value had been taken. There was not a shred of evidence +against any one. Madame, who had seen the man upon the stairs, could +only say that he was short, and wore a black felt hat. The officer who +took down what they had to say shrugged his shoulders as he replaced the +book in his pocket. The affair would pass most certainly, he feared, +into the long list of undiscoverable crimes. + +Duncombe left his name and address, and enough money for the funeral. +Then he returned to his hotel. This was the end, then, of the clue from +which he had hoped so much. Spencer's warning as to what would surely +happen to those whom he might succeed in bribing came back into his mind +with sickening insistence. In a measure he was responsible for the +girl's death. After all, what chance had he? He was fighting against +powers which, moving always in the darkness, seemed able with the most +ridiculous ease to frustrate his every move. He re-entered the hotel in +a state of complete nervous depression. For the first time he had +forebodings on his own account. What had happened to Mademoiselle +Flossie might happen so easily to himself. + +A man rose quickly from the lounge in the hotel as he entered. Duncombe +greeted him with a little expression of wonder. + +"Spencer!" he exclaimed. "Were you waiting to see me?" + +The journalist nodded. He was not in evening dress, and he too had the +appearance of a man who has received something of a shock. + +"Yes. The café is closed, I suppose. Let us go down into the smoke-room. +I want to talk to you." + +Duncombe led the way. They found two easy-chairs, and despatched a +waiter for whiskies and soda. Then Spencer turned to his friend. + +"Have you met," he asked, "with any success?" + +"None!" Duncombe answered gloomily. + +"I have something to tell you," Spencer continued. "No, it is not good +news," he added hastily. "It is more a personal matter. It is of +something which has happened to myself." + +Duncombe sighed. + +"Go on!" he said. + +"For twenty-two and a half years," Spencer said, "I have lived in Paris +as the correspondent to various English journals. I have made many +friends, and it has been considered amongst all my fellow journalists +that I had the ear of more influential people in politics and society +here than any other writer. To-day I have resigned my position!" + +Duncombe managed to summon up enough interest to be surprised. + +"I had no idea," he said, "that you were contemplating anything of the +sort." + +"I was not!" Spencer answered grimly. "I am as much surprised myself as +all my friends will be." + +Duncombe was puzzled. + +"I am afraid I don't quite understand," he said. "You can't mean that +your people----" + +"No! My people have nothing to do with it," Spencer answered. "I have +had the sack, but not from them. It is Paris which will have no more of +me. I live here, of course, on my faculties for obtaining information, +and my _entrée_ into political and social life. To-day the Minister of +Police has declined to receive me, or at any future time--my cards of +entry into the chamber and half a dozen places have been revoked, my +name has been expunged from the visiting list of the President, and +practically of every other person of importance. All that I may see of +Paris now is from the outside. And there is no appeal!" + +"But what is the reason of it, Spencer? What have you done? How have you +offended all these people?" + +Spencer hesitated. + +"I don't want you to blame yourself in any way, Duncombe," he said. "You +could not possibly have guessed the sort of thing you were up against. +But the fact remains that my offence is in having sent my friends to the +Café Montmartre on your account, and in being suspected of rendering you +further assistance in your search for those two marvellous young English +people!" + +"You are not joking by any chance, are you?" Duncombe asked gravely. + +"The matter," Spencer replied, "does not appear to me to lend itself to +anything of the sort." + +Duncombe buried his head in his hands for several moments. + +"Great Heavens!" he murmured. "Let me think! I can't tell you how sorry +I am, old chap. Can't the thing be explained? As a matter of fact, you +were discretion itself." + +"I don't want it explained," Spencer said, "even if it would do any +good--which it wouldn't! I should have retired in any case in less than +a year, and, as it is, I believe my successor is on his way over +already. Now would you like to know why I have come here at this hour of +the night to tell you this?" + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Go on!" he said. "Afterwards I've something to tell you." + +"I've come," Spencer said, "because I'm free now, if you like, to help +you. I was interested in your story before. I am ten times more +interested in it now. If you still want me I'll do what I can for you." + +"Want you! Spencer, do you mean it?" Duncombe exclaimed. "Want you! Why, +there's no one I'd rather interest in the affair than you." + +"Well, I can promise you my interest is pretty well excited already," +Spencer answered. "I'm with you right along. Now tell me where you've +been this evening, and what's happened." + +Duncombe recounted the evening's events. His new ally listened and +afterwards smoked for a moment or two in silence. + +"It is simply wonderful," he declared. "The whole secret-service system +of Paris is working to cover up the traces of this boy and girl. Their +spies, of course, are everywhere, and their organization perfect. The +first one of their creatures who tries to break away is Mademoiselle +Flossie. The poor little fool lived for only a few hours afterwards. +Your bribe was high, but she ought to have known better." + +"You mean----" + +"Why, of course! The theft of her poor little jewels was only a blind. +It was to deceive the public, for, as a matter of fact, her murderer +would have been perfectly safe if he had strolled into the nearest +police station and made his report. She was killed because she was going +to give you certain information." + +Duncombe shuddered. + +"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed. "Tell me, Spencer, who or what can be at +the back of all this? Guy Poynton was simply a healthy-minded, not +over-intelligent, young Saxon, unambitious, and passionately fond of his +home and his country life. He had no friends over here, no interests, no +ties of any sort. He was abroad for the first time of his life. He +regarded foreign countries and people simply with the tolerant curiosity +of the untravelled Britisher. He appears in Paris for one night and +disappears, and forthwith all the genius of French espionage seems to +have combined to cover up his traces. It is the same with his sister, +only as she came afterwards it was evidently on his account that she +also is drawn into the mystery. What can be the meaning of it, Spencer?" + +"My young friend," Spencer said, "I will be frank with you. I have not +the least idea! I only know that somehow or other you're up against a +big thing. In a week--perhaps a day--I may know more. Meanwhile I want +you to go on your way precisely as though you and I had not discussed +this matter." + +"We may not work together then?" Duncombe asked. + +"Certainly not! You are a marked man everywhere. Every door is closed to +you. I shall nominally stick to my post. You must be content to be the +actual looker-on, though you had better not abandon your inquiries +altogether. I will put you up at the Cercle Anglais. It will serve to +pass the time, and you may gain information at the most unlikely places. +And now good-bye." + +The liftman thrust a pencilled note into Duncombe's hand as he ascended +to his room. + +"From I do not know whom, Monsieur," he announced. "It was left here by +some one! Whom I cannot say." + +Duncombe opened it in his dressing-room. There was only one sentence:-- + + "Monsieur would be well advised to leave Paris to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A WORD OF WARNING + + +"In the most unlikely places!" Duncombe murmured to himself as he bowed +to the Frenchman, whose name his friend had mentioned. "I am very glad +to meet you again, Monsieur le Baron!" he said, aloud. + +They were in the covered garden at the Ritz. Duncombe had accepted the +pressing invitation of an old college friend, whom he had met on the +boulevards to drop in and be introduced to his wife. And the third at +the tea-table was Monsieur Louis, known in society apparently as +Monsieur le Baron de Seurs. + +Lady Hadley, his friend's wife, smiled languidly upon them both. She was +a frail pink and white little woman, with the reputation of a beauty to +sustain, wherein lay her life's work. + +"You two know one another, of course!" she remarked. "Paris is no larger +than London, after all." + +"Sir George and I have met once at least," the Baron said, smiling. "I +am glad that he does me the honor of remembering the occasion." + +Duncombe felt himself no match for his companion with the foils. He let +the conversation drift, and waited for his opportunity. Presently some +more guests arrived, and Duncombe drew his host on one side. + +"Hadley," he said, "how long have you known the Baron?" + +"Met him at Dorset House about two years ago, I think," Hadley answered. +"He was doing a round of country-houses. I'm not sure that he didn't +stay at Sandringham. One of the real old French families, you know, De +Seurs." + +Duncombe nodded. There did not seem to be much that he could say. He +mingled with the other guests, and observed his social duties. But he +watched the Baron, and he took care that they left together. + +"Are you going my way, Baron?" he asked, as they stepped into the Place +Vendôme. + +"I was going to the Cercle Anglais," the Baron answered. "Do you +belong?" + +"I am up for a month's membership, but I am not elected yet," Duncombe +answered. + +"Then you shall come in as my guest," the Baron declared. + +"You are exceedingly kind," Duncombe answered. "I wonder whether I might +presume still further upon your good nature and ask you a question." + +"The asking," the Baron murmured, "involves nothing." + +"You bear, I am told, an honored name, and you are well received in +society. Why do you associate with murderers and thieves in that hell of +a café where I saw you first?" + +The Baron smiled. + +"My friend," he said, "I seek always the life amusing, and I find it +there." + +"I was robbed before your eyes, Baron." + +The Frenchman sighed. + +"I am so sorry," he said, "that I did not see it. That indeed would have +been amusing." + +"You know that the young lady who sat with us is dead?" + +"A most bizarre happening," the Baron assented with a little sigh. "I +cannot imagine how it occurred. The newspaper reports are not +convincing. One would like to reconstruct the story. Poor little +Flossie! She was most amusing, but just a little, a very little, too +fond of flourishing her jewellery. One will miss her, though." + +"Referring for one moment to our meeting at the café. You told me a +story there--you and your friend Madame--of a young English lady--which +the facts seem scarcely to sustain." + +The Baron sighed. + +"My friend," he said, "we did the best we could at a moment's notice. I +rather fancied the story myself. As to facts--what have they to do with +it? You demanded a story, and you got it. I rather flattered myself that +under the circumstances it was not bad." + +"You admit now, then, that it was not the truth!" + +"The truth! My dear Sir George! Supposing that the whereabouts of your +charming young friend had been known to me, do you suppose that I should +have permitted myself to be bullied into disclosing it? Forgive me if I +speak plainly, but if you really wished for information which you +supposed that I had, your method of seeking it put you at once out of +court. A French gentleman does not permit himself to be bullied." + +Duncombe was silent for several moments. There were many things which he +could have said, but where was the use? + +"As a French gentleman, then," he said at last, "will you permit me to +make a personal appeal to you? Miss Phyllis Poynton is a young lady in +whom I am deeply interested. She was last seen at the Café Montmartre, +from which place she disappeared. I am an Englishman of your own +station. Tell me where I can find her, or what has become of her." + +"My dear Sir George," the Baron said, "you might have saved yourself a +great deal of trouble if you had spoken like this to me at the first. +Frankly, then, I have not the least idea. Young English ladies come and +go every evening at the Café Montmartre, and such places. One remembers +only those who happen to have amused one, and not always those. Forgive +me if I speak plainly. A young lady who had visited the Café Montmartre +alone--well, you might look for her anywhere, but most assuredly in that +case if your anxiety was to induce her to return to her friends, you +would be a little too late. Ah! We have arrived. Now, my friend, I must +make you free of the place." + +Duncombe was fuming with anger, but he had discretion enough to remain +silent. + +"Do you play Bridge?" the Baron asked, as they entered the card-room. + +"Occasionally," Duncombe assented. + +"I will go and see if I can find any men," the Baron remarked. "I will +leave my young friend De Bergillac to entertain you. The Vicomte de +Bergillac--Sir George Duncombe." + +Duncombe shook hands with a pale, weary-looking youth, whose whole +appearance was distinguished by marked symptoms of lassitude and +ill-health. They sat in easy-chairs almost opposite to one another, and +Duncombe found the other's scrutiny almost embarrassing. + +"You speak French, perhaps--yes?" the young man asked at length. + +"Yes! I speak French," Duncombe admitted. + +"Then listen to me," the Vicomte said slowly. "I speak as one man of +honor to another. Do not play cards in this club!" + +"Not play cards? Why not?" Duncombe asked, amazed. + +"You can take my advice or leave it," the Vicomte answered calmly. "I +have no explanation to offer you. If you chose to repeat my remark you +would place me in an exceedingly awkward position. You see, I rely upon +you as a man of honor." + +"I am only too much obliged to you for the hint," Duncombe declared. +"But this club--the Cercle Anglais----" + +"The club is all right," the Vicomte admitted calmly. "Unfortunately +there is no place in Paris which would be entirely safe for you. You +have the misfortune, you see, to be in opposition to some of my friends, +who have really unlimited opportunities for making things disagreeable +for you. Now I am beginning to talk, and it is very foolish of me. Why +don't you leave Paris, Sir George?" + +"Why should I?" Duncombe asked, a little sharply. "I break no laws here, +I wrong no one. I am here on my own business, and I only ask to be let +alone." + +The Vicomte regarded him as one might look at a spoilt child whom it was +yet advisable to humor. + +"Ah," he said, "they will not let you alone. You are so obstinate, like +all your country-people, or you would recognize it without my risking +so much by speaking. You will have to leave Paris, and very soon. It is +so easily to be managed. A dispute at cards here--you would certainly be +in the wrong, and an ugly scandal if you were not away in twenty-four +hours. It is one method of a thousand." + +"You know so much," Duncombe said. "I have no doubt that you know the +one thing which I would give years of my life to be satisfied about." + +The boy's dark eyes were fixed steadily upon his. + +"Sir George," he said, "there is nothing which I can possibly say to +you. My warning has been exceeding foolish, but after all if I can +persuade you to leave Paris I shall have done no great harm. As for the +cards--well, I must plead guilty to weakness there. I have not the +slightest objection to taking the life of a man who is making a nuisance +of himself, but his honor I think one should not tamper with. May I +offer you a cigarette? Well, Louis, what luck?" + +The Baron had strolled back into the room, and was sitting on the arm of +a chair. + +"It will be all right directly," the Baron answered. "We have three, and +old D'Arcon has telephoned that he will be here in five minutes." + +Duncombe rose to his feet. + +"It was really very careless of me," he said, "but I completely forgot +that I had an engagement at the hotel at six o'clock. I am afraid that I +shall not be able to stop." + +The Baron glanced quickly at his young friend. There was nothing +whatever to be learnt, though, from his pale, boyish face. His own +countenance had darkened for the moment, but he recovered his composure +immediately. + +"As you will," he answered carelessly. "Perhaps you can drop in later. +Come and dine, will you, at half-past eight?" + +"I am much obliged to you, Baron," Duncombe said, "but I cannot accept +your invitation. I am a lover of plain speaking, so I will not plead a +previous engagement. But the one thing I want from you, the thing which +I have almost a right to demand, you will not give. I do not feel, +therefore, that any more than ordinary intercourse is possible between +us." + +The Baron bowed gravely. + +"My dear Sir George," he said, "I am answered. I wish I could drive out +of your mind that extraordinary hallucination relative to my supposed +knowledge of your young English friend. It is impossible! Very good! I +shall look forward to a time, Sir George, when we may meet on a better +footing." + +Duncombe left the hotel with the recollection of that curiously ironic +smile fresh in his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE + + +For three days Duncombe saw nothing of Spencer. Three long days devoid +of incident, hopelessly dull, aimless, and uninteresting. On the fourth +the only change in the situation was scarcely a reassuring one. He +became aware that he was being watched. + +There was no particular secrecy about it. Even in the hotel itself some +one was always on his heels. The absence of any attempt at concealment +convinced him that it was the authorized police who had thus suddenly +showed their interest in him. The suspicion was soon to be confirmed. +The manager called him on the fourth morning into his private office. + +"Monsieur will pardon me, I trust," he said, "if I take the liberty of +asking him a question." + +"Certainly!" Duncombe answered. "Go ahead!" + +"Monsieur is aware that he has been placed under the surveillance of the +police?" + +"The fact," Duncombe said, "has been borne in upon me during the last +few hours. What of it?" + +The manager coughed. + +"This is a cosmopolitan hotel, Sir George," he said, "and we make no +pretence at ultra-exclusiveness, but we do not care to see the police on +the premises." + +"Neither do I," Duncombe answered. "Can you suggest how we may get rid +of them?" + +"Monsieur does not quite understand," the manager said smoothly. +"Clearly he has done something to bring him under the suspicion of the +law. Under these circumstances it would be more agreeable to the +management of the hotel if Monsieur would depart." + +Duncombe did not wish to depart. The hotel at which Phyllis Poynton's +trunks were still awaiting her return was the hotel at which he wished +to stay. + +"Look here, Monsieur Huber," he said. "I give you my word of honor that +I have broken no law, nor engaged in any criminal action whatever since +I came to Paris. This game of having me watched is simply a piece of +bluff. I have done nothing except make inquiries in different quarters +respecting those two young English people who are still missing. In +doing this I seem to have run up against what is nothing more nor less +than a disgraceful conspiracy. Every hand is against me. Instead of +helping me to discover them, the police seem only anxious to cover up +the tracks of those young people." + +The manager looked down at his desk. + +"We hotel-keepers," he said, "are very much in the hands of the police. +We cannot judge between them and the people whom they treat as suspected +persons. I know very well, Sir George, that you are a person of +respectability and character, but if the police choose to think +otherwise I must adapt my views to theirs. I am sorry, but we must +really ask you to leave." + +Sir George turned on his heel. + +"Very good!" he said. "I will go and take rooms elsewhere." + +He left the hotel, and walked towards the Ritz. At the corner of the +Place Vendôme an automobile was pulled up with a jerk within a few feet +of him. A tired-looking boy leaned over wearily towards him from the +front seat. + +"Sir George," he said, "can you give me five minutes?" + +"With pleasure!" he answered. "I was going into the Ritz. Come and have +something." + +"To Maxim's, if you don't mind," the Vicomte said. "It will take us only +a moment." + +Sir George stepped in. The Vicomte, in whose fingers the wheel seemed +scarcely to rest, so light and apparently careless was his touch, +touched a lever by his side, released the clutch, and swung the great +car round the corner at a speed which made Duncombe grasp the sides. At +a pace which seemed to him most ridiculous, they dashed into the Rue de +Rivoli, and with another sharp turn pulled up before Maxim's. The +Vicomte rose with a yawn as though he had just awoke from a refreshing +dream. His servant slipped off his fur coat, and he descended to the +pavement faultlessly dressed and quite unruffled. The commissionaire +preceded them, hat in hand, to the door. A couple of waiters ushered +them to the table which the Vicomte intimated by a gesture. + +"I myself," he remarked, drawing off his gloves, "take nothing but +absinthe. What may I have the pleasure of ordering for you?" + +Duncombe ordered a whisky and soda. + +"I think," he said, "there is one thing which I ought to tell you at +once. I am being shadowed by the police. The man who has just arrived, +and who seems a little breathless, is, I believe, the person whose duty +it is to dog my footsteps in the daytime." + +"What a pity!" the Vicomte murmured. "I would at least have taken you a +mile or so round the boulevards if I had known. But wait! You are +sure--that it is the police by whom you are being watched?" + +"Quite," Duncombe answered. "The manager of the hotel has spoken to me +about it. He has asked me, in fact, to leave." + +"To leave the hotel?" + +"Yes! I was on my way to the Ritz to secure rooms when I met you." + +The Vicomte sipped his absinthe gravely. + +"I should not take those rooms," he said. "You will in all probability +not occupy them." + +"Why not?" + +"It has been decided," the Vicomte said, "that you are to be driven out +of Paris. In the end you will have to go. I think if I were you I would +not wait. The train de luxe to Calais is more comfortable than a wet +bench in the Morgue or a French prison." + +"Who has decided this?" Duncombe asked. "What Emperor has signed the +decree of my banishment?" + +"There have been worse served Emperors," the Vicomte remarked, "than +the, shall we say person, who bids you go!" + +"What is my offence?" Duncombe asked. + +"I know nothing," the Vicomte answered slowly, pouring himself out some +absinthe. + +"Who are my judges, then? What secret authorities have I incensed? I am +an honest man, engaged in an honest mission. Why should I not be allowed +to execute it?" + +The Vicomte half closed his eyes. Duncombe was a little angry. The +Vicomte regarded him with reproachful wonder. + +"You ask me so many questions," he murmured, "and I tell you that I know +nothing. I have asked you to come here with me because I had just this +to say. I can answer no questions, offer no explanations. I have no +particular liking for you, but I am afflicted with a cursedly sensitive +disposition, and--there are things which I find it hard to watch with +equanimity. There is a train for England at nine o'clock this evening, +Sir George. Take it!" + +Duncombe rose from his seat. + +"I am very much obliged to you," he said. "I believe that you are giving +me what you believe to be good advice. Whether I can follow it or not is +a different matter." + +The Vicomte sighed. + +"You Englishmen," he said, "are so obstinate. It is the anxiety +concerning your friends, I suppose, which keeps you here?" + +"Yes!" + +The Vicomte hesitated. He looked up and down the room, and especially at +the man whom Duncombe had pointed out to him. He had edged nearer and +nearer till he was almost within earshot. The Vicomte's voice, always +low, became a whisper. + +"I can tell you this much, at any rate," he said. "Whatever their +present condition may be, it is more likely to be improved than made +worse by your departure. You are a well-meaning person, Monsieur, but +you do nobody any good here, and you risk--more than I dare tell you." + +The Vicomte turned away to greet a little party of friends who had just +entered. Duncombe strolled back to the hotel, and found Spencer walking +restlessly up and down the hall waiting for him. + +"At last!" he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief. "Come up into my room, +Spencer. We can talk there." + +He rang for the lift, and as they ascended he watched the other +anxiously. Spencer was looking pale and disturbed. His eyes showed signs +of sleeplessness, and he had not the air of a man who has good news to +impart. As soon as they were inside the room he locked the door. + +"Duncombe," he said, "there is a train which leaves Paris for London at +four o'clock. You must catch it--if you are allowed to. Don't look like +that, man. I tell you you've got to do it. If you are in Paris to-night +you will be in prison." + +"For what offence?" Duncombe asked. + +"For the murder of Mademoiselle Flossie. They are training the witnesses +now. The whole thing is as easy as A B C. They can prove you so guilty +that not even your best friend would doubt it. Pack your clothes, man, +or ring for the valet." + +Duncombe hesitated, but he, too, was pale. + +"Are you serious, Spencer?" he asked. + +"I am so serious," Spencer answered, "that unless you obey me I will not +move another finger in this matter. You lose nothing by going. All that +a human being can do I will do! But you lose your life, or, at any rate, +your liberty if you stay." + +Duncombe bowed his head to fate. + +"Very well!" he said. "I will go!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"HER VOICE." + + +"You have heard now," Duncombe said, finally, "the whole history of my +wanderings. I feel like a man who has been beating the air, who has been +at war with unseen and irresistible forces. I never seemed to have a +chance. In plain words, I have failed utterly!" + +The two men were sitting in a room impossible of classification. It +might have been a study, smoking-room, or gun-room. The walls were +adorned with stags' heads and various trophies of the chase. There were +guns and rifles in plenty in a rack by the chimney-piece, a row of +bookcases along the north wall, golf clubs, cricket bats, and foils +everywhere. A pile of logs ready for burning stood in the open grate, +and magnificent rugs were spread about the floor. Nowhere was there the +slightest trace of a woman's presence, for Duncombe had no sisters, and +his was entirely a bachelor household. + +Duncombe himself and Andrew Pelham were seated in great easy-chairs in +front of the open window. It was his first fine evening at home, and he +was drinking in great draughts of the fresh pure air, fragrant with the +perfume of roses and huge clusters of wallflowers. Paris had seemed to +him like a great oven. All the time he had been half stifled, and yet he +knew very well that at a word from Spencer he would have returned there +at an hour's notice. He knew, too, that the home which he had loved all +his days could never be quite the same place to him again. + +Andrew roused himself from rather a prolonged silence. + +"You were a brick to go, George," he said. "It is more than any one else +in the world would have done for me." + +Duncombe laughed a little uneasily. He knocked the ashes from his pipe +and refilled it slowly. + +"Andrew," he said, "I don't want to seem a fraud. I dare say that I +might have gone for you alone--but I didn't." + +His friend smiled faintly. + +"Ah!" he remarked. "I had forgotten your little infatuation. It hasn't +worn off yet, then?" + +"No, nor any signs of it," Duncombe answered bluntly. "It's an odd +position for a matter-of-fact person like myself, isn't it? I tell you, +Andrew, I've really tried to care for some of the girls about here. The +place wants a mistress, and I'm the tenth baronet in the direct line. +One's got to think about these things, you know. I've tried hard, and +I've never even come near it." + +"It will wear off," Andrew said. "It is a very charming little fancy, a +most delightful bit of sentiment, George, but with nothing behind it it +can't last." + +"Perhaps not," Duncombe answered quietly. "All that I know is that it +has shown no signs of wearing off up to now. It was in Paris exactly as +it is here. And I know very well that if I thought it would do her the +least bit of good I would start back to Paris or to the end of the world +to-night." + +"I must readjust my views of you, George," his friend said with mild +satire. "I always looked upon you as fair game for the Norfolk dowagers +with their broods of daughters, but I never contemplated your fixing +your affections upon a little piece of paste-board." + +"Rot! It is the girl herself," Duncombe declared. + +"But you have never seen her." + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He said nothing. What was the use? +Never seen her! Had she not found her way into every beautiful place his +life had knowledge of? + +"If you had," Andrew murmured--"ah, well, the picture is like her. I +remember when she was a child. She was always fascinating, always +delightful to watch." + +Duncombe looked out upon the gardens which he loved, and sighed. + +"If only Spencer would send for me to go back to Paris," he said with a +sigh. + +Andrew turned his head. + +"You can imagine now," he said, "what I have been suffering. The desire +for action sometimes is almost maddening. I think that the man who sits +and waits has the hardest task." + +They were silent for some time, smoking steadily. Then Duncombe reverted +once more to his wanderings. + +"You remember the story they told me at the Café, Andrew," he said. "It +was a lie, of course, but was Miss Poynton anything of an artist?" + +"To the best of my belief," Andrew answered, "she has never touched a +brush or a pencil since she left school." + +Duncombe looked out into the gathering twilight. + +"It is a devil's riddle, this!" he said slowly. "Why did she go to that +place at all?" + +"God only knows!" Andrew murmured. + +Duncombe's teeth were hard set. A paper-knife, which he had caught up +from the table, snapped in his fingers. There was something in his +throat which nearly choked him. + +"Phyllis Poynton," Andrew continued, "was as sweet and pure a woman as +ever breathed. She must have loathed that place. She could only have +gone there to seek for her brother, or----" + +"Or for whom?" + +"For those who knew where he was." + +Duncombe turned his head. + +"Andrew!" + +"Yes, old chap!" + +"Let me look at her photograph again." + +Andrew drew it from his pocket and passed it over. Duncombe studied it +for several moments under the lamplight. + +"You are right, Andrew," he said slowly. "For her the other things would +not be possible. I wonder----" + +His fingers clung to the photograph. He looked across at his friend. +There was a slight flush in his face. He spoke nervously. + +"Andrew," he said, "I'm afraid it sounds a bit brutal, but--this +photograph is no use to you just now, is it, until your eyes get better. +Will you lend it me?" + +"I couldn't," Andrew answered quietly. "I can't see it now of course, +but I like to feel it in my pocket, and it will be the first thing I +shall look at when the doctor lets me take off these beastly +glasses--if ever he does. Until then--well, I like to feel I've got it. +That's all!" + +They both smoked furiously for several moments without looking at one +another. Duncombe spoke first. + +"Andrew!" + +"Well?" + +"If she comes back--shall you ever ask her to marry you?" + +"I don't know, George. I'm poor, and I'm twelve years older than she is. +I don't know." + +There was another silence. Then the conversation drifted back once more +to the one subject which was monopolizing the thought of both of them. + +"I tell you what seems to me to be the most extraordinary part of the +whole business," Duncombe said. "First the brother disappears. Then +without a word to any one the sister also rushes off to Paris, and +vanishes from the face of the earth after a series of extraordinary +proceedings. One supposes naturally that if they have come to harm +anywhere--if there has been a crime--there must have been a motive. What +is it? You say that their banking account has been undisturbed?" + +"It was last week. I should hear if any cheques were presented." + +"And the boy's letter of credit even has never been drawn upon!" + +"No! Not since he left Vienna." + +"Then the motive cannot be robbery. Thank Heaven," Duncombe added, with +a little shudder, "that it was the boy who went first." + +"Don't!" + +A great winged insect came buzzing into the room. Duncombe struck +viciously at it with the palm of his hand. + +"Lord!" he muttered, "what a fool I am! I've never been away from home +before, Andrew, without longing to get back, and here I am, just back +from Paris in August, from turning night into day, from living just the +sort of life I hate, and I'd give anything to be going back there +to-morrow. I'm a haunted man, Andrew. I got up last night simply because +I couldn't sleep, and walked down as far as the paddock. I seemed to see +her face in all the shadowy corners, to see her moving towards me from +amongst the trees. And I'm not an imaginative person, Andrew, and I've +got no nerves. Look!" + +He held out his hand, strong and firm and brown. It was as steady as a +rock. + +"I can't sleep," he continued, "I can't rest. Is there witchcraft in +this thing, Andrew?" + +Andrew Pelham laughed shortly. It was a laugh which had no kinship to +mirth. + +"And I," he said, "have seen her grow up. We were boy and girl together. +I stole apples for her. I have watched her grow from girlhood into +womanhood. I have known flesh and blood, and you a cardboard image. I +too am a strong man, and I am helpless. I lie awake at night and I +think. It is as though the red flames of hell were curling up around me. +George, if she has come to any evil, whether I am blind or whether I can +see, I'll grope my way from country to country till my hand is upon the +throat of the beast who has harmed her." + +The man's voice shook with passion. Duncombe was awed into silence. He +had known Andrew Pelham always as a good-natured, good-hearted giant, +beloved of children and animals, deeply religious, a man whose temper, +if he possessed such a thing, was always strictly under control. Such an +outburst as this was a revelation. Duncombe understood then how slight a +thing his own suffering was. + +"You shall not go alone, Andrew," he said softly. "But for the present +we must wait. If any one can help us, Spencer will." + +A servant came in with the whisky and glasses, and silently arranged +them upon the table. Duncombe rose and attended to his duties as host. + +"Can I get you anything further, sir?" the man asked. + +"Nothing, thanks," Duncombe answered. "Tell the servants to go to bed. +We will lock up. Say when, Andrew!" + +Andrew took his glass mechanically. Out in the lane the silence of the +summer night was suddenly broken by the regular tread of horses' feet +and the rumbling of vehicles. Duncombe Hall was built like many of the +old-fashioned houses in the country, with its back to the road, and the +window at which they were sitting looked out upon it. Duncombe leaned +forward in his chair. + +"Visitors by the last train going up to Runton Place," he remarked. +"Runton has quite a large party for the first. Hullo! They're stopping. +I'd better go out." + +He rose from his chair. The omnibus had stopped in the lane, and they +could hear the voices of the occupants clearly through the soft +darkness. Some one was apparently getting out, and stumbled. A girl's +soft laugh rang out distinctly above the man's exclamation. Duncombe +was already stepping over the window-sill when he felt a clutch like +iron upon his shoulder. He looked round in amazement. Andrew's face was +transformed. He was struggling for words. + +"Her voice!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Am I dreaming, George? It was her +voice!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +LAUGHTER OF WOMEN + + +The door of the omnibus was opened as Duncombe stepped over the low wall +into the road. A tall man in a long light Inverness descended. + +"Hullo, Duncombe!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand; "I was coming in +to see you for a moment." + +"Good man!" Duncombe answered. "Bring your friends, won't you?" + +He held open the gate hospitably, but Lord Runton shook his head. + +"I only wanted a word with you," he said. "We're all starving, and if +you don't mind we'll get on as quickly as we can. About to-morrow. You +shoot with us, of course?" + +"Delighted!" Duncombe answered. + +"Cresswell met me at the station," Lord Runton continued. "I'd drawn out +a plan for the shoot, but it seems that Cresswell--old fool--hasn't got +his harvest in from the two fields by Ketton's Gorse. What I wanted to +ask you was if we might take your turnips up from Mile's bottom to the +north end of the gorse. We can make our circuit then without a break." + +"My dear fellow!" Duncombe protested, "was it worth while asking me such +a thing? Of course you can." + +"That's settled, then," Lord Runton declared, turning back towards the +omnibus. "Let me introduce you to my friends," he added, resting his +hand upon the other's shoulder, "and then we'll be off." + +Duncombe, in whose ears his friend's cry was still ringing, pressed +eagerly forward. + +"This is my neighbor, Sir George Duncombe," Lord Runton said, looking +into the carriage, "who will shoot with us to-morrow. Miss Fielding and +Mr. Fielding, Lady Angrave and the Baron Von Rothe." + +Lady Angrave held out her hand. + +"Sir George and I are almost old friends," she said, with a somewhat +languid smile. "We were both at Castle Holkham last autumn." + +Duncombe murmured something conventional as he bowed over her fingers. +His whole attention was riveted upon the tall, pale girl in the further +corner of the omnibus. Her acknowledgment of his introduction had been +of the slightest, and her features were obscured by a white veil. She +looked away from him at once and continued a whispered conversation with +the white-haired gentleman at her side. Duncombe could think of no +excuse for addressing her. + +"I shall have the pleasure of meeting you all again to-morrow," he said, +closing the door after Lord Runton. "I won't keep you now. I know what +the journey is down from town. Good night, Runton!" + +"Good night, George. Ten o'clock sharp!" + +The carriage rolled off, and Duncombe returned to his own domain. Andrew +was waiting for him impatiently by the gate. + +"Well!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you have seen her. Well?" + +The man was trembling with excitement. There were drops of perspiration +upon his forehead. His voice sounded unnatural. + +"I saw a young lady in the carriage," Duncombe answered, "or rather I +did not see her, for she wore a veil, and she scarcely looked at me. But +she was introduced to me as Miss Fielding, and her father was with her." + +"Fielding! Fielding!" Andrew repeated. "Never mind that. What was she +like! What colored hair had she?" + +"I told you that she kept her veil down," Duncombe repeated. "Her hair +was a sort of deep, red-brown--what I could see of it. But, seriously, +Andrew, what is the use of discussing her? One might as soon expect one +of my housemaids to change into Phyllis Poynton, as to discover her with +a brand-new father, a brand-new name, and a guest at Runton Place." + +Andrew was silent for a moment. He touched his spectacles with a weary +gesture, and covered his eyes with his hand. + +"Yes," he said, "I suppose you are right. I suppose I am a fool. +But--the voice!" + +"The laughter of women," said Duncombe, "is music all the world over. +One cannot differ very much from the other." + +"You are quite wrong, George," Andrew said. "The voices of women vary +like the thumb-marks of criminals. There are no two attuned exactly +alike. It is the receptive organs that are at fault. We, who have lost +one sense, find the others a little keener. The laughter of that +girl--George, will you keep me a few days longer? Somehow I cannot bring +myself to leave until I have heard her voice once more." + +Duncombe laughed heartily. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "I shall bless your uncommonly sensitive ears +if they keep you here with me even for an extra few days. You shall have +your opportunity, too. I always dine at Runton Place after our first +shoot, and I know Runton quite well enough to take you. You shall sit at +the same table. Hullo, what's this light wobbling up the drive?" + +He strolled a yard or so away, and returned. + +"A bicycle," he remarked. "One of the grooms has been down to the +village. I shall have to speak to Burdett in the morning. I will not +have these fellows coming home at all sorts of times in the morning. +Come along in, Andrew. Just a drain, eh? And a cigarette--and then to +bed. Runton's keen on his bag, and they say that German, Von Rothe, is a +fine shot. Can't let them have it all their own way." + +"No fear of that," Andrew answered, stepping through the window. "I'll +have the cigarette, please, but I don't care about any more whisky. The +'Field' mentioned your name only a few weeks ago as one of the finest +shots at rising birds in the country, so I don't think you need fear the +German." + +"I ought to hold my own with the partridges," Duncombe admitted, helping +himself from the siphon, "but come in, come in!" + +A servant entered with a telegram upon a silver salver. + +"A boy has just brought this from Runton, sir," he said. + +Duncombe tore it open. He was expecting a message from his gun-maker, +and he opened it without any particular interest, but as he read, his +whole manner changed. He held the sheet in front of him long enough to +have read it a dozen times. He could not restrain the slight start--a +half exclamation. Then his teeth came together. He remembered the +servant and looked up. + +"There will be no answer to-night, Murray," he said. "Give the boy a +shilling and some supper. If he goes home by the Runton gates, tell him +to be sure and close them, because of the deer." + +"Very good, sir!" + +The man departed. Duncombe laid the telegram upon the table. He felt +that Andrew was waiting impatiently for him to speak. + +"Well?" + +"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said. + +"From Paris?" + +"Yes." + +"He has discovered something?" + +"On the contrary," Duncombe answered, "he is asking me for information, +and very curious information, too." + +"What does he want to know?" + +"The telegram," Duncombe said slowly, "is in French. He asks me to wire +him at once the names of all the guests at Runton Place." + +Andrew struck the table a mighty blow with his clenched fist. + +"I knew it!" he cried. "It was her laugh, her voice. Phyllis Poynton is +there!" + +Duncombe looked at his friend incredulously. + +"My dear Andrew," he said, "be reasonable. The young lady and her father +in that omnibus were introduced to me by Runton himself as Mr. and Miss +Fielding. They are going to his house as his guests. Naturally, +therefore, he knows all about them. Miss Poynton, as you have told me +more than once, is an orphan." + +"Common-sense won't even admit it as a matter of argument," Andrew said. +"I know that quite well. But how do you account for Spencer's telegram?" + +"Remember that he is a newspaper correspondent," Duncombe said. "He has +many interests and many friends with whom he is constantly exchanging +information. It is a coincidence, I admit. But the wildest flight of +imagination could not make any more of it." + +"You must be right," Andrew said quietly. "It all sounds, and is, so +convincing. But I wish that I had not heard that laugh!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA + + +Duncombe leaned his gun up against a gate. A few yards away his host was +talking to the servants who had brought down luncheon. The rest of the +party were only just in sight a field or two off. + +"Have a glass of sherry before lunch, George?" his host asked, strolling +towards him. + +"Nothing to drink, thanks! I'd like a cigarette, if you have one." + +Lord Runton produced his case, and a servant brought them matches. They +both leaned over the gate, and watched the scattered little party slowly +coming towards them. + +"Who is your friend Fielding?" Duncombe asked, a little bluntly. + +"Fellow from New York," Lord Runton answered. "He's been very decent to +my brother out there, and Archibald wrote and asked me to do all we +could for them. The girl is very handsome. You'll see her at dinner +to-night." + +"Here for long?" + +"No, unfortunately," Lord Runton answered. "I had very hard work to get +them to come at all. Cicely has written them three or four times, I +think, but they've always had engagements. They're only staying till +Monday, I think. Very quiet, inoffensive sort of chap, Fielding, but the +girl's a ripper! Hullo! Here they are. I'll introduce you." + +A groom had thrown open the gate of the field across which they were +looking, and Lady Runton from the box seat of a small mail phaeton waved +her whip. She drove straight across the furrows towards them a little +recklessly, the groom running behind. By her side was a girl with coils +of deep brown hair, and a thick black veil worn after the fashion of the +travelling American. + +"Just in time, aren't we?" Lady Runton remarked, as she brought the +horses to a standstill. "Help me down, Jack, and look after Miss +Fielding, Sir George. By the bye, have you two met yet?" + +Duncombe bowed--he was bareheaded--and held out his hands. + +"I saw Miss Fielding for a moment last night," he said, "or rather I +didn't see her. We were introduced, however. What do you think of our +maligned English weather, Miss Fielding?" he asked. + +She raised her veil and looked at him deliberately. He had been prepared +for this meeting, and yet it was with difficulty that he refrained from +a start. The likeness of the photograph (it was even at that moment in +his pocket) was wonderful. She looked a little older, perhaps. There +were shadows in her face of which there were no traces in the picture. +And yet the likeness was wonderful. + +"To-day at least is charming," she said. "But then I am quite used to +your climate, you know. I have lived in Europe almost as much as in +America." + +She certainly had no trace of any accent. She spoke a little more +slowly, perhaps, than most young Englishwomen, but there was nothing +whatever in her words or in her pronunciation of them to suggest a +transatlantic origin. She stood by his side looking about her with an +air of interest, and Duncombe began to wonder whether after all she was +not more beautiful than the photograph which he had treasured so +jealously. He became conscious of a desire to keep her by his side. + +"Is your father shooting, Miss Fielding?" + +She laughed softly. + +"You don't know my father, Sir George," she answered. "He hates +exercise, detests being out of doors, and his idea of Paradise when he +is away from business is to be in a large hotel where every one speaks +English, where there are tapes and special editions and an American +bar." + +Duncombe laughed. + +"Then I am afraid Mr. Fielding will find it rather hard to amuse himself +down here." + +"Well, he's discovered the telephone," she said. "He's spending the +morning ringing up people all over the country. He was talking to his +bankers when we came out. Oh, here come the rest of them. How tired they +look, poor things--especially the Baron! Nature never meant him to tramp +over ploughed fields, I am sure. Baron, I was just saying how warm you +look." + +The Baron took off his cap, gave up his gun to a keeper, and turned a +glowing face towards them. + +"My dear young lady," he declared, "I am warm. I admit it, but it is +good for me. Very good indeed. I tried to make your father walk with +us. He will be sure to suffer some day if he takes no exercise." + +"Oh, father's never ill," the girl answered. "But then he eats nothing, +Sir George, I hope you're going to devote yourself to me at luncheon. +I'm terribly hungry." + +"So we all are," Lady Runton declared. "Come along, every one." + +Luncheon was served in a large open barn, pleasantly fragrant of dried +hay, and with a delightful view of the sea far away in the distance. +Miss Fielding chattered to every one, was amusing and amused. The Baron +gave her as much of his attention as he was ever disposed to bestow upon +any one at meal-times, and Duncombe almost forgot that he had +breakfasted at eight o'clock. + +"Charming young person, that!" said Lady Runton's neighbor to her. "One +of our future Duchesses, I suppose?" + +Lady Runton smiled. + +"Lots of money, Teddy," she answered. "What a pity you haven't a title!" + +The young man--he was in the Foreign Office--sighed, and shook his head. + +"Such things are not for me," he declared sententiously. "My affections +are engaged." + +"That isn't the least reason why you shouldn't marry money," her +ladyship declared, lighting a cigarette. "Go and talk to her!" + +"Can't spoil sport!" he answered, shaking his head. "By Jove! Duncombe +is making the running, though, isn't he?" + +Her ladyship raised her glasses. Duncombe and Miss Fielding had +strolled outside the barn. He was showing her his house--a very +picturesque old place it looked, down in the valley. + +"It's nothing but a farmhouse, of course," he said. "No pretensions to +architecture or anything of that sort, of course, but it's rather a +comfortable old place." + +"I think it is perfectly charming," the girl said. "Do you live there +all alone? You have sisters perhaps?" + +He shook his head. + +"No such luck!" he answered. "Mine is entirely a bachelor establishment. +A great part of the time I am alone. Just now I have a pal staying with +me--awfully decent chap, from Devonshire." + +She was certainly silent for a moment. He fancied too that there was a +change in her face. + +"From Devonshire!" she repeated, with a carelessness which, if it was +not natural, was exceedingly well assumed. "I believe I knew some people +once who came from there. What is your friend's name, Sir George?" + +He turned slowly towards her. + +"Andrew Pelham!" he said quietly. "He comes from a place called +Raynesworth." + +"He is staying here now--with you?" + +"Yes," he answered gravely. + +It was not his fancy this time. Of that he felt sure. Her face for the +moment had been the color of chalk--a little exclamation had been +strangled upon her lips. She shot a quick glance at him. He met it +steadily. + +"You know the name?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"The name--yes," she answered, "but not the person. A very old friend +of mine was called Andrew Pelham, but he was an American, and he has +never been in England. It startled me, though, to hear the exact name +from you." + +She was herself again. Her explanation was carelessly given. It sounded +even convincing, but Duncombe himself was not convinced. He knew that +she wanted him to be. He felt her eyes seeking his, studying his face. +Perhaps she was only anxious that he should not misunderstand. + +"George, are you ready?" his host called out. "We're going to take +Smith's pastures." + +"Quite!" Duncombe answered. "Until this evening, Miss Fielding." + +"You are dining at Runton Place?" she asked quietly. + +"Yes," he answered. "Will you tell me all about your Andrew Pelham?" + +She raised her eyes to his and smiled. + +"Do you think that you would be interested?" she asked. + +"You know that I should," he answered quietly. + +For a time he shot badly. Then he felt that his host's eye was upon him, +and pulled himself together. But he was never at his best. He felt that +the whole world of his sensations had been suddenly disturbed. It was +impossible that there could be any connection between this girl and the +photograph which had first fired him with the impulse to undertake that +most extraordinary and quixotic mission. Yet the fact remained that the +girl herself had had very much the same effect upon him as his first +sight of the photograph. It was a coincidence, of course. Miss Fielding +was charming. There was no reason why he should not indulge to the full +his admiration of her. She had affected him in a most curious manner. +Another man would have declared himself in love with her. It was not +possible that she could be any one but Miss Fielding. That start which +he had fancied that he had noticed, the sudden aging of her face, the +look almost of fear! Absurd! He was losing his nerves. It was not +possible, he told himself steadfastly. And yet---- + +Some of the women were following them in a leisurely sort of way behind. +Miss Fielding was there, walking a little apart. She carried her hat in +her hand. The wind, which was blowing the skirts of her white cloth +dress about her, was making havoc in her glorious hair. She walked with +her head thrown back, with all the effortless grace of youth--a light +heart, an easy conscience. He deliberately left his place and walked +back to meet her. She waved her hand gayly. There was color in her +cheeks now, and her eyes laughed into his. The shadows were gone. He +felt that this was madness, and yet he said what he had come back to +say. + +"I thought that you might be interested to know, Miss Fielding, that you +will meet the gentleman--with the same name as your friend--this +evening. Lord Runton has been good enough to ask him to come up and +dine." + +She nodded gayly. + +"What a crowd of sentimental memories his coming will evoke!" she +declared. "Be nice to me, won't you, and help me dispel them?" + +"Perhaps," he said, smiling with a great relief; "I might prefer to try +to construct a few on my own account." + +"Go and do your duty," she commanded, laughing. + +Duncombe hastened to his place. His eyes were bright. He felt that he +was walking upon air. + +"What a double distilled ass I nearly made of myself!" he muttered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION + + +She came into the room a little late, and her entrance created almost a +sensation. Duncombe only knew that she wore a black gown and looked +divine. Lady Runton murmured "Paquin" with a sigh and frown. + +"These girls might at least leave us black," she murmured to her +neighbor. "What pearls!" + +Duncombe stepped forward to meet her. He could not keep the admiration +from his eyes. Her shoulders and slim graceful neck were as white as +alabaster, her hair was a gorgeous brown kissed into fine gold +glimmering as though with a touch of some hidden fire. She moved with +the delightful freedom of absolute naturalness. He murmured something +which sounded ridiculously commonplace, and she laughed at him. + +"Do you know that you are going to take me in?" she said. "I hope that +you are prepared to be very amusing. Do tell me which is your friend." + +Then Duncombe remembered Andrew, who was standing by his side. He turned +towards him, and the words suddenly died away upon his lips. Andrew's +tall frame was shaking as though with some powerful emotion. He was +standing with his head thrust forward as though listening intently. +Duncombe set his teeth. + +"Will you allow me to present my friend Miss Fielding?" he said. +"Andrew, this is Miss Fielding. Mr. Pelham, Miss Fielding." + +She held out her hand and took his passive fingers. + +"I am so glad to know you, Mr. Pelham," she said pleasantly. "Sir George +gave me quite a shock to-day when he spoke of you. I was once very +nearly engaged to an Andrew Pelham in Baltimore, and I had most +distressing visions of all my old sweethearts turning up to spoil my +good time here." + +Andrew's voice sounded odd and restrained. + +"I have never been in America," he said. + +She laughed. + +"You need not be afraid that I am going to claim you," she declared. +"You are at least a foot taller than my Andrew. You don't even inspire +me with any tender recollections of him. Baron, I do hope that you have +not taken too much exercise." + +"My dear young lady," he answered, bowing, "I never felt better in my +life! Be thankful that it is not your hard fate to be my dinner +companion. I am so hungry I should have no time for conversation." + +"On the contrary," she declared, "I--almost regret it! I much prefer to +do some of the talking myself, but I seldom get a chance. Will you +promise to give me a show to-night, Sir George?" + +"As long as you permit me to say two or three things which are in my +mind," he answered, lowering his voice a little, "you may do all the +rest of the talking." + +"Dear me, I am curious already," she exclaimed. "What are the two or +three things, Sir George? Why! Do you see--nearly every one has gone," +she added suddenly. "Come along!" + +She laid her hand upon his arm and led him away. Soon he was by her side +at the table. Their companions were uninteresting. Andrew was out of +sight. Duncombe forgot everything else in the world except that he was +with her. + +Their conversation was of trifles, yet intimate trifles. The general +talk buzzed all round them. Neither made any effort to arrest it. To +Duncombe she seemed simply the image he had created and worshipped +suddenly come to life. That it was not in fact her picture went for +nothing. There was no infidelity. The girl who had existed in his dreams +was here. It was for her that he had departed from the even tenor of his +ways, for her he had searched in Paris, for her he had braved the +horrors of that unhappy week. Already he felt that she belonged to him, +and in a vague sort of way she, too, seemed to be letting herself drift, +to be giving color to his unconscious assumption by her lowered tone, by +the light in her eyes which answered his, by all those little nameless +trifles which go to the sealing of unwritten compacts. + +Once her manner changed. Her father, who was on the opposite side of the +table a little way off, leaned forward and addressed her. + +"Say, Sybil, where did we stay in Paris? I've forgotten the name of the +place." + +"L'hôtel d'Athènes," she answered, and at once resumed her conversation +with Duncombe. + +But somehow the thread was broken. Duncombe found himself watching the +little gray man opposite, who ate and drank so sparingly, who talked +only when he was spoken to, and yet who seemed to be taking a keen but +covert interest in everything that went on about him. Her father! There +was no likeness, no shadow of a likeness. Yet Duncombe felt almost a +personal interest in him. They would know one another better some day, +he felt. + +"So you've been in Paris lately?" he asked her suddenly. + +She nodded. + +"For a few days." + +"I arrived from there barely a week ago," he remarked. + +"I hate the place!" she answered. "Talk of something else." + +And he obeyed. + +The second interruption came from Andrew. During a momentary lull in the +conversation they heard his firm clear voice talking. + +"My time was up yesterday, but I find so much to interest me down here +that I think I shall stay on for a few more days, if my host remains as +hospitable as ever." + +"So much to interest him," she murmured. "Are not all places the same to +the blind? What does he mean?" + +"He is not really blind!" Duncombe answered, lowering his voice. "He can +see things very dimly. The doctor has told him that if he wears those +glasses for a few more months he may be able to preserve some measure of +eyesight. Poor chap!" + +"He does not attract me--your friend," she said a little coldly. "What +can he find to interest him so much here? Do you see how he keeps his +head turned this way? It is almost as though he wished to listen to what +we were saying." + +"There is a sort of reason for that," Duncombe answered. "Shall I +explain it?" + +"Do!" + +"Pelham lives, as I think I told you, in a small country-house near +Raynesworth," Duncombe began. "The hall in his village was occupied by a +young man--a boy, really--and his sister. Early in the year the boy, who +had never been abroad, thought that he would like to travel a little in +Europe. He wandered about some time in Germany and Austria, and was +coming home by Paris. Suddenly all letters from him ceased. He did not +return. He did not write. He drew no money from his letter of credit. He +simply disappeared." + +The girl was proceeding tranquilly with her dinner. The story so far did +not seem to interest her. + +"His sister, who went over to Paris to meet him, found herself quite +alone there, and we supposed that she devoted herself to searching for +him. And then curiously enough she, too, disappeared. Letters from her +suddenly ceased. No one knew what had become of her." + +She looked at him with a faint smile. + +"Now," she said, "your story is becoming interesting. Do go on. I want +to know where you and Mr. Pelham come in." + +"Pelham, I think," he continued gravely, "was their oldest friend. He +sent for me. We were old college chums, and I went. This trouble with +his eyes had only just come on, and he was practically helpless--much +more helpless than the ordinary blind person, because it was all new to +him. This boy and girl were his old and dear friends. He was longing to +be off to Paris to search for them himself, and yet he knew that so far +as he was concerned it would be simply wasted time. He showed me the +girl's photograph." + +"Well?" + +"I went in his place." + +"And did you find either of them?" + +"No." + +"I wonder," she said, "why you have told me this story?" + +"I am going to tell you why," he answered. "Because when Pelham heard +you laugh last night he was like a madman. He believed that it was the +voice of Phyllis Poynton. And I--I--when I saw you, I also felt that +miracles were at hand. Look here!" + +He drew a photograph from his pocket and showed it to her. She looked at +it long and earnestly. + +"Yes," she admitted, "there is a likeness. It is like what I might have +been years ago. But will you tell me something?" + +"Of course!" + +"Why do you carry the picture of that girl about with you?" + +He leaned towards her, and at that moment Lady Runton rose from her +place. + +"In the winter garden afterwards," he whispered. "You have asked me the +very question that I wanted to answer!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE + + +There was something strange about Andrew's manner as he moved up to +Duncombe's side. The latter, who was in curiously high spirits, talked +incessantly for several minutes. Then he came to a dead stop. He was +aware that his friend was not listening. + +"What is the matter with you, old chap?" he asked abruptly. "You are +positively glum." + +Andrew Pelham shook his head. + +"Nothing much!" he said. + +"Rubbish! What is it?" + +Andrew dropped his voice almost to a whisper. The words came hoarsely. +He seemed scarcely master of himself. + +"The girl's voice tortures me," he declared. "It doesn't seem possible +that there can be two so much alike. And then Spencer's telegram. What +does it mean?" + +"Be reasonable, old fellow!" Duncombe answered. "You knew Phyllis +Poynton well. Do you believe that she would be content to masquerade +under a false name, invent a father, be received here--Heaven knows +how--and meet you, an old friend, as a stranger? The thing's absurd, +isn't it?" + +"Granted. But what about Spencer's telegram?" + +"It is an enigma, of course. We can only wait for his solution. I have +wired him the information he asked for. In the meantime----" + +"Well, in the meantime?" + +"There is nothing to be gained by framing absurd hypotheses. I don't +mind telling you, Andrew, that I find Miss Fielding the most delightful +girl I ever met in my life." + +"Tell me exactly, George, how she compares with the photograph you have +of Phyllis Poynton." + +Duncombe sipped his wine slowly. + +"She is very like it," he said, "and yet there are differences. She is +certainly a little thinner and taller. The features are similar, but the +hair is quite differently arranged. I should say that Miss Fielding is +two or three years older than Phyllis Poynton, and she has the air of +having travelled and been about more." + +"A few months of events," Andrew murmured, "might account for all those +differences." + +Duncombe laughed as he followed his host's lead and rose. + +"Get that maggot out of your brain, Andrew," he exclaimed, "as quickly +as possible. Will you take my arm? Mind the corner." + +They found the drawing-room almost deserted. Runton raised his eyeglass +and looked around. + +"I bet those women have collared the billiard table," he remarked. "Come +along, you fellows." + +They re-crossed the hall and entered the billiard-room. Lady Runton was +playing with the Lord Lieutenant's wife, the Countess of Appleton. The +others were all sitting about, either on the lounge or in the winter +garden beyond. Miss Fielding was standing on the threshold, and +Duncombe advanced eagerly towards her. On the way, however, he was +buttonholed by an acquaintance, and the master of the hounds had +something to say to him afterwards about one of his covers. When he was +free, Miss Fielding had disappeared. He made his way into the winter +garden, only to find her sitting in a secluded corner with the Baron. +She looked up at his entrance, but made no sign. Duncombe reluctantly +re-entered the billiard-room, and was captured by his host for a rubber +of bridge. + +The rubber was a long one. Duncombe played badly and lost his money. +Declining to cut in again, he returned to the winter garden. Miss +Fielding and the Baron were still together, only they had now pushed +their chairs a little further back, and were apparently engaged in a +very confidential conversation. Duncombe turned on his heel and +re-entered the billiard-room. + +It was not until the party broke up that he found a chance of speaking +to her. He was sensible at once of a change in her manner. She would +have passed him with a little nod, but he barred her way. + +"You have treated me shockingly," he declared, with a smile which was a +little forced. "You promised to let me show you the winter garden." + +"Did I?" she answered. "I am so sorry. I must have forgotten all about +it. The Baron has been entertaining me delightfully. Good night!" + +He half stood aside. + +"I haven't by any chance offended you, have I?" he asked in a low tone. + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"Certainly not!" she answered. "Excuse me, won't you? I want to speak +to Lady Runton before she goes upstairs." + +Duncombe stood on one side and let her pass with a stiff bow. As he +raised his eyes he saw that Mr. Fielding was standing within a few feet +of him, smoking a cigarette. He might almost have overheard their +conversation. + +"Good night, Mr. Fielding," he said, holding out his hand. "Are you +staying down here for long?" + +"For two days, I believe," Mr. Fielding answered. "My daughter makes our +plans." + +He spoke very slowly, but without any accent. Nothing in his appearance, +except perhaps the fact that he wore a black evening tie, accorded with +the popular ideas of the travelling American. + +"If you have an hour to spare," Duncombe said, "it would give me a great +deal of pleasure if you and your daughter would walk down and have a +look over my place. Part of the hall is Elizabethan, and I have some +relics which might interest Miss Fielding." + +Mr. Fielding removed the cigarette from his mouth. + +"I thank you very much, sir," he said. "We are Lord Runton's guests, and +our stay is so short that we could scarcely make any arrangements to +visit elsewhere. Glad to have had the pleasure of meeting you all the +same." + +Duncombe sought out his host. + +"Runton, old chap," he said, "do me a favor. Bring that fellow Fielding +and his daughter round to my place before they go." + +Lord Runton laughed heartily. + +"Is it a case?" he exclaimed. "And you, our show bachelor, too! Never +mind my chaff, old chap. She's a ripping good-looking girl, and money +enough to buy the country." + +"I don't mind your chaff," Duncombe answered, "but will you bring her?" + +Lord Runton looked thoughtful. + +"How the dickens can I? We are all shooting at the Duke's to-morrow, and +I believe they're off on Saturday. You're not in earnest by any chance, +are you, George?" + +"Damnably!" he answered. + +Lord Runton whistled softly. + +"Fielding doesn't shoot," he remarked, "but they're going with us to +Beaumanor. Shall I drop him a hint? He might stay a day longer--just to +make a few inquiries about you on the spot, you know." + +"Get him to stay a day longer, if you can," Duncombe answered, "but +don't give me away. The old chap's none too cordial as it is." + +"I must talk to him," Runton said. "Your Baronetcy is a thundering sight +better than any of these mushroom peerages. He probably doesn't +understand that sort of thing. But what about the girl? Old Von Rothe +has been making the running pretty strong, you know." + +"We all have to take our chance in that sort of thing," Duncombe said +quietly. "I am not afraid of Von Rothe!" + +"I'll do what I can for you," Runton promised. "Good night!" + +Andrew, who had left an hour or so earlier, was sitting in the library +smoking a pipe when his host returned. + +"Not gone to bed yet, then?" Duncombe remarked. "Let me make you a +whisky and soda, old chap. You look a bit tired." + +"Very good of you--I think I will," Andrew answered. "And, George, are +you sure that I should not be putting you out at all if I were to +stay--say another couple of days with you?" + +Duncombe wheeled round and faced his friend. His reply was not +immediate. + +"Andrew," he said, "you know very well that I haven't a pal in the world +I'd sooner have here than you for just as long as you choose to stay, +but--forgive me if I ask you one question. Is it because you want to +watch Miss Fielding that you have changed your mind?" + +"That has a good deal to do with it, George," Andrew said quietly. "If I +left without meeting that young lady again I should be miserable. I want +to hear her speak when she does not know that any one is listening." + +Duncombe crossed the room and laid his hand upon the other's shoulder. + +"Andrew, old fellow," he said, "I can't have it. I can't allow even my +best friend to spy upon Miss Fielding. You see--I've come a bit of a +cropper. Quick work, I suppose, you'd say. But I'm there all the same." + +"Who wants to spy upon Miss Fielding?" Andrew exclaimed hoarsely. "She +can be the daughter of a multi-millionaire or a penniless adventurer for +all I care. All I want is to be sure that she isn't Phyllis Poynton." + +"You are not yet convinced?" + +"No." + +There was a moment's silence. Duncombe walked to the window and +returned. + +"Andrew," he said, "doesn't what I told you just now make a +difference?" + +Andrew groaned. + +"Of course it would," he answered, "but--I'm fool enough to feel the +same about Phyllis Poynton." + +Duncombe, in the full glow of sensations which seemed to him to give a +larger and more wonderful outlook on life, felt his sympathies suddenly +awakened. Andrew Pelham, his old chum, sitting there with his huge, +disfiguring glasses and bowed head, was surely the type of all that was +pathetic. He forgot all his small irritation at the other's obstinacy. +He remembered only their long years of comradeship and the tragedy which +loomed over the life of his chosen friend. Once more his arm rested upon +his shoulder. + +"I'm a selfish brute, Andrew!" he said. "Stay as long as you please, and +get this idea out of your brain. I'm trying to get Miss Fielding and her +father down here, and if I can manage it anyhow I'll leave you two +alone, and you shall talk as long as you like. Come, we'll have a drink +together now and a pipe afterwards." + +He walked across to the sideboard, where the glasses and decanters were +arranged. Then for the first time he saw upon the tray awaiting him a +telegram. He gave a little exclamation as he tore it open. + +Andrew looked up. + +"What is it, George?" he asked. "A telegram?" + +Duncombe stood with his eyes glued upon the oblong strip of paper. A +curious pallor had crept into his face from underneath the healthy tan +of his complexion. Andrew, sightless though he was, seemed to feel the +presence in the room of some exciting influence. He rose to his feet and +moved softly across to the sideboard. + +"Is it a telegram, George?" he whispered hoarsely. "Read it to me. Is it +from Spencer?" + +Duncombe collected himself with an effort. + +"It's nothing," he answered with a little laugh, in which all the +elements of mirth were lacking, "nothing at all! A note from Heggs, my +head-keeper--about some poachers. Confound the fellow!" + +Andrew's hand was suddenly upon the sideboard, travelling furtively +across its shining surface. Duncombe watched it with a curious sense of +fascination. He felt altogether powerless to interfere. He was simply +wondering how long it would be before those long, powerful fingers +seized upon what they sought. He might even then have swept aside the +envelope, but he felt no inclination to do so. The fingers were moving +slowly but surely. Finally, with a little grab, they seized upon it. +Then there was another moment of suspense. + +Slowly the hand was withdrawn. Without a second's warning Duncombe felt +himself held in the grip of a giant. Andrew had him by the throat. + +"You have lied to me, George!" he cried. "There was a telegram!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?" + + +It seemed to Duncombe that time stood still. Andrew's face, wholly +disfigured by the hideous dark spectacles, unrecognizable, threatening, +was within a few inches of his own. He felt the other's hot breath upon +his cheek. For a moment there stole through his numbed senses the fear +of more terrible things. And then the grip which held him relaxed. +Andrew stood away gasping. The crisis was over. + +"You lied to me, George. Why?" + +Duncombe did not answer. He could not. It was as though his body had +been emptied of all breath. + +"You meant to keep the contents of that telegram a secret from me. Why? +Was I right after all? Read me that telegram, George. Read it me +truthfully." + +"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said. "He is coming here." + +"Here? Is he giving up the search? Has he failed, then?" + +"He does not say," Duncombe answered. "He says simply that he is coming +here. He has wired for a motor to meet him at Lynn. He may be here +to-night." + +A discordant laugh broke from Pelham's lips. + +"What about your Miss Fielding, now?" he exclaimed. "Why do you suppose +that he is leaving Paris, and coming here? I was right. I knew that I +was right." + +Duncombe stood up. His expanse of shirt-front was crumpled and battered. +His white tie was hanging down in ribbons. + +"Listen, Andrew!" he exclaimed. "I am speaking of the girl by whose side +I sat to-night at dinner, who calls herself Miss Fielding, who has--in +plain words--denied that she knows anything of Phyllis Poynton. I want +you to understand this. Whatever she may choose to call herself that +shall be her name. I will not have her questioned or bullied or watched. +If Spencer comes here to do either I have finished with him. I elect +myself her protector. I will stand between her and all suspicion of evil +things." + +"She has found a champion indeed!" Pelham exclaimed fiercely. "With Miss +Fielding I have nothing to do. Yet you had better understand this. If +she be Phyllis Poynton she belongs to me, and not to you. She was mine +before you heard her name. I have watched her grow up from a child, I +taught her to ride and to shoot and to swim. I have watched her +listening to the wind, bending over the flowers in her garden. I have +walked with her over the moor when the twilight fell and the mists rose. +We have seen the kindling of the stars, and we have seen the moon grow +pale and the eastern sky ablaze. I have taught her where to look for the +beautiful things of life. She has belonged to me in all ways, save one. +I am a poor, helpless creature now, George, but, by the gods, I will let +no one rob me of my one holy compensation. She is the girl I love; the +better part of myself." + +"Phyllis Poynton may be all these things to you," Duncombe answered. "I +do not know her. I do not recognize her. Find her, if you can; make of +her what you will. All that I ask of you is that you divest your mind of +these senseless suspicions. Seek Phyllis Poynton where you will, but +leave alone the woman whom I love. I will not have her troubled or +annoyed by needless importunities. She says she is Miss Fielding. Then +she is Miss Fielding. It is enough for me. It must be enough for you!" + +"And what about Spencer?" Pelham asked grimly. + +"Spencer in this matter is my servant," Duncombe answered. "If his +search for Phyllis Poynton entails his annoying Miss Fielding, then he +is dismissed. I will have no more to do with the business." + +"I have heard of this man Spencer," Andrew answered. "If you think that +he is the sort of creature whom you can order about like that, I fancy +that you are mistaken. You may try to call him off, if you like, but you +won't succeed. He is searching for Phyllis Poynton, and he is coming +here. I believe that he will find her." + +The windows were wide open, and both men suddenly turned round. There +was no mistaking the sound which came to them from the road outside--the +regular throb and beat of a perfectly balanced engine. Then they heard a +man's voice, cool and precise. + +"Here you are, then, and a sovereign for yourself. A capital little car +this. Good night!" + +The little iron gate opened and closed. A tall man in a loose +travelling-coat, and carrying a small bag, entered. He saw Duncombe +standing at the open window, and waved his hand. As he approached his +boyish face lit up into a smile. + +"What luck to find you up!" he exclaimed. "You got my telegram?" + +"An hour ago," Duncombe answered. "This is my friend, Mr. Andrew Pelham. +What will you have?" + +"Whisky and soda, and a biscuit, please," was the prompt reply. "Haven't +upset you, I hope, coming down from the clouds in this fashion?" + +"Not in the least," Duncombe answered. "You've made us very curious, +though." + +"Dear me!" Spencer exclaimed, "what a pity! I came here to ask +questions, not to answer them. You've set me a regular poser, Duncombe. +By Jove! that's good whisky." + +"Help yourself," Duncombe answered. "We won't bother you to-night. I'll +show you a room as soon as you've had a cigarette. Fair crossing?" + +"No idea," Spencer answered. "I slept all the way. Jolly place you've +got here, Duncombe. Nice country, too." + +"There is just one question," Pelham began. + +"Sha'n't answer it--to-night," Spencer interrupted firmly. "I'm dead +sleepy, and I couldn't guarantee to tell the truth. And when to-morrow +comes--I'll be frank with you--I've very little to say. Pardon me, but +where does Mr. Pelham come in in this matter?" + +"Pelham," Duncombe said slowly, "was a neighbor of Miss Poynton's, in +Devonshire. It was through him that I first went to Paris to search for +her." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Glad to meet him, then," he remarked. "There are a few questions I +shall be glad to ask him in the morning." + +"There is one," Pelham said, "which you must answer now." + +Spencer raised his eyebrows. He was standing with his back to them now, +helping himself to sandwiches from a dish upon the sideboard. + +"By Jove, your cook does understand these things," he remarked, with his +mouth full. "No idea I was so hungry. What was that, Mr. Pelham? A +question which must be answered now?" + +"Yes. You telegraphed to Duncombe to know the names of Lord Runton's +guests, and now you have come here yourself. Why?" + +Spencer helped himself to another sandwich. + +"I came here," he said, "because I didn't seem to be getting on in +Paris. It struck me that the clue to Miss Poynton's disappearance might +after all be on this side of the Channel." + +Pelham guided himself by the table to the sideboard. He stood close to +Spencer. + +"Mr. Spencer," he said, "I am almost blind, and I cannot see your face, +but I want you to tell me the truth. I expect it from you." + +"My dear fellow," Spencer answered. "I'm awfully sorry for you, of +course, but I really don't see why I should answer your questions at +all, truthfully or untruthfully. I have been making a few inquiries for +my friend Duncombe. At present I regret to say that I have been +unsuccessful. In their present crude state I should prefer keeping my +discoveries, such as they are, to myself." + +Pelham struck the sideboard with his clenched fist so that all the +glasses rattled upon the tray. His face was dark with passion. + +"I will not be ignored in this matter," he declared. "Phyllis Poynton +and her brother are nothing to Duncombe. He acted only for me. He cannot +deny it. Ask him for yourself." + +"I do not need to ask him," Spencer answered. "I am perfectly well aware +of the circumstances of the case. All the same, I go about my business +my own way. I am not ready to answer questions from you or anybody +else." + +"You shall tell me this at least," Pelham declared. "You shall tell me +why you telegraphed here for the names of Lord Runton's house party." + +"Simplest thing in the world," Spencer answered, relinquishing his +attack upon the sandwiches, and lighting a cigarette. "I did it to +oblige a friend who writes society notes for the 'New York Herald.'" + +Duncombe gave vent to a little exclamation of triumph. Pelham for the +moment was speechless. + +"Awfully sorry if I misled you in any way," Spencer continued. "I never +imagined your connecting my request with the disappearance of Phyllis +Poynton. Why should I?" + +"The fact is," Duncombe interposed, "there is a girl staying at Runton +Place whose voice Pelham declares is exactly like Phyllis Poynton's, and +whose general appearance, I will admit, is somewhat similar to the +photograph I showed you. It is a coincidence, of course, but beyond that +it is absurd to go. This young lady is a Miss Fielding. She is there +with her father, and they are invited guests, with all the proper +credentials." + +Spencer nodded. + +"I suppose it is because I am not a lady's man," he said carelessly, +"but I must admit that all girls' voices sound pretty much alike to me." + +"I wish to Heaven that I could see your face!" Pelham exclaimed, "I +should know then whether you were telling me the truth." + +"The weak point about my temporary profession is," Spencer remarked +thoughtfully, "that it enables even strangers to insult one with +impunity." + +"If I have misjudged you," Pelham said with some dignity, "I am sorry. I +am to understand, then, that you have no news whatever to give us about +the disappearance of Phyllis Poynton and her brother?" + +"Not a scrap!" Spencer answered. + +"I will wish you both good night, then," Pelham said. "No, don't +trouble, George. I can find my way quite well by myself." + +He disappeared, and Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief. + +"Excitable person, your friend!" Spencer remarked. + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Very! I am frightened to death that he will make an ass of himself +before Miss Fielding. If he hears her speak he loses his head." + +"Nice girl?" Spencer asked. + +"Yes--very!" + +"What sort of a fellow's the father?" + +"Very quiet. I've scarcely spoken to him. They're Americans. Friends of +Lord Runton's brother, out in New York. Ever heard of them?" + +"Yes. A few times." + +"You seem interested." + +"I am--very." + +Duncombe turned suddenly white. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +Spencer held his cigarette between his fingers and looked at it +thoughtfully. + +"Mr. Fielding, of New York," he said, "sailed for America from Havre +last Saturday. His daughter has gone to Russia with a party of friends." + +Duncombe sprang from his seat. His cigarette slipped from his fingers +and fell unheeded upon the carpet. + +"Then who--who are these people?" he exclaimed. + +Spencer shrugged his shoulders. + +"I thought it worth while," he said, "to come over and find out." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER + + +A few minutes before ten the following morning a mounted messenger from +Runton Place brought the following note for Duncombe:-- + + "RUNTON PLACE, _Friday Morning_. + + "MY DEAR DUNCOMBE,--Fielding has cried off the shoot + to-day. Says he has a motor coming over for him to try from + Norwich, and his dutiful daughter remains with him. Thought I + would let you know in case you cared to come and look them up. + Best I could do for you. + + "Ever yours sincerely, + + "RUNTON." + +Duncombe had breakfasted alone. Pelham had asked for something to be +sent up for him, and Spencer, after a cup of coffee in his room, had +gone out. Duncombe did not hesitate for a moment. He started at once for +Runton Place. + +A marvellous change had taken place in the weather since the previous +day. The calm splendor of the early autumn seemed to have vanished. A +strong north wind was blowing, and the sky was everywhere gray and +threatening. The fields of uncut corn were bent, like the waves of the +sea, and the yellow leaves came down from the trees in showers. Piled up +masses of black clouds were driven across the sky. Scanty drops of rain +kept falling, an earnest of what was to come as soon as the wind should +fail. Duncombe had almost to fight his way along until, through a +private gate, he entered Runton Park. The house lay down in the valley +about a mile away. To reach it one had to cross a ridge of hills covered +with furze bushes and tumbled fragments of ancient rock. + +Half-way up the first ascent he paused. A figure had struggled into +sight from the opposite side--the figure of a girl. Her skirts and cloak +were being blown wildly about her. She wore a flat Tam-o'-Shanter hat, +from under the confines of which her hair was defying the restraint of +hatpins and elastic. She stood there swaying a little from the violence +of the wind, slim and elegant, notwithstanding a certain intensity of +gaze and bearing. Duncombe felt his heart give a quick jump as he +recognized her. Then he started up the hill as fast as he could go. + +She stood perfectly still, watching him clamber up to her side. Her face +showed no sign of pleasure or annoyance at his coming. He felt at once +that it was not he alone who had realized the coming of the tragedy. + +No words of conventional greeting passed between them as he clambered +breathless to her side. The wind had brought no color into her cheeks. +There were rims under her eyes. She had the appearance of one who had +come into touch with fearsome things. + +"What do you want with me?" she asked. "Why are you here?" + +"To be with you," he answered. "You know why." + +She laughed mirthlessly. + +"Better go back," she exclaimed. "I am no fit companion for any one +to-day. I came out to be alone." + +A gust of wind came tearing up the hillside. They both struggled for +breath. + +"I came," he said, "to find you. I was going to the house. Something has +happened which you ought to know." + +She looked back towards the long white front of the house, and there was +terror in her eyes. + +"Something is happening there," she muttered, "and I am afraid." + +He took her gloveless hand. It was as cold as ice. She did not resist +his touch, but her fingers lay passively in his. + +"Let me be your friend," he pleaded. "Never mind what has happened, or +what is going to happen. You are in trouble. Let me share it with you." + +"You cannot," she answered. "You, nor any one else in the world. Let me +go! You don't understand!" + +"I understand more than you think!" he answered. + +She turned her startled eyes upon him. + +"What do you mean?" she cried. + +"I mean that the man whom we employed to trace the whereabouts of +Phyllis Poynton and her brother arrived from Paris last night," he +answered. "He wanted a list of Lord Runton's house party. Can you guess +why?" + +"Go on!" + +"Mr. Fielding, of New York, left Havre on Saturday----" + +"Stop!" + +Her voice was a staccato note of agony. Between the fingers which were +pressed to her face he could see the slow, painful flushing of her +cheeks. + +"Why did you come to tell me this?" she asked in a low tone. + +"You know," he answered. + +"Did you guess last night that we were impostors?" she asked. + +"Certainly not," he answered. "Andrew was tortured with doubts about +you. He believed that you were Phyllis Poynton!" + +"I am!" she whispered. "I was afraid of him all the evening. He must +have known." + +It seemed to Duncombe that the rocks and gorse bushes were spinning +round and the ground was swaying under his feet. The wind, which had +kept them both half breathless, seemed full of mocking voices. She was +an impostor. These were her own words. She was in danger of detection, +perhaps of other things. At that very moment Spencer might have gained +an entrance into Runton Place. He felt uncertain of himself, and all the +time her eyes watched him jealously. + +"Why did you come here?" she cried. "Why do you look at me like that? It +is no concern of yours who I am. Why do you interfere?" + +"Everything that concerns you concerns me," he answered. "I don't care +who you are, or who you say you are. I don't even ask you for any sort +of explanation. I came to warn you about Spencer. For the rest, here am +I your friend whatever happens. You are terrified! Don't go back to the +house. Give me the right to take care of you. I'll do it!" + +Then for the first time a really human expression lit up her face. The +sick fear passed away. Her features were suddenly softer. The light in +her eyes was a beautiful thing. + +"You are kind," she murmured, "kinder than I ever dreamed any one could +be who--knew. Will you be kinder still?" + +"Try me!" he begged. + +"Then go away. Forget who I am. Forget who I am not. Shut yourself up in +your study for twenty-four hours, and come out without any memories at +all. Oh, do this for me--do this!" she begged, with a sudden break in +her voice. + +She leaned a little towards him. A long wisp of her hair blew in his +face. A moment of madness came to him with the gust of wind which blew +her almost into his arms. For one exquisite moment he held her. The +violets at her bosom were crushed against his coat. Then she tore +herself away. + +"You are mad," she cried. "It is my fault. Oh, let me go!" + +"Never," he answered, passionately clasping at her hand. "Call yourself +by what name you will, I love you. If you are in trouble, let me help. +Let me go back to the house with you, and we will face it together, +whatever it may be. Come!" + +She wrung her hands. The joy had all gone from her face. + +"Oh, what have I done?" she moaned. "Don't you understand that I am an +impostor? The man down there is not my father. I--oh, let me go!" + +She wrenched herself free. She stood away from him, her skirt gathered +up into her hand, prepared for flight. + +"If you would really do me a kindness," she cried, "get Mr. Spencer to +stop his search for me. Tell him to forget that such a person ever +existed. And you, too! You must do the same. What I have done, I have +done of my own free will. I am my own mistress. I will not be interfered +with. Listen!" + +She turned a white, intent face towards the house. Duncombe could hear +nothing for the roaring of the wind, but the girl's face was once more +convulsed with terror. + +"What was that?" she cried. + +"I heard nothing," he answered. "What can one hear? The wind is strong +to drown even our voices." + +"And those?" she cried again, pointing with outstretched finger to two +rapidly moving black specks coming towards them along the winding road +which led from the highway to Runton Place. + +Duncombe watched them for a moment. + +"They are the Runton shooting brakes," he declared. + +"I expect Lord Runton and the rest of them are coming back." + +"Coming back!" she repeated, with a little gasp. + +"But they were going to shoot all day and dine there. They are not +expected home till past midnight." + +"I expect the shoot is off," Duncombe remarked. "One couldn't possibly +hit anything a day like this. I wonder they ever started." + +Her face was white enough before, but it was deathly now. Her lips +parted, but only a little moan came from them. He heard the rush of her +skirts, and saw her spring forward. He was left alone upon the hilltop. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MR. FIELDING IN A NEW RÔLE + + +Runton was apparently enjoying the relaxation of having got rid of +practically the whole of its guests for the day. The women servants were +going about their duties faithfully enough, but with a marked absence of +any superfluous energy. Mr. Harrison, the butler, was enjoying a quiet +pipe in his room and a leisurely perusal of the morning paper. Mrs. +Ellis, the much-respected housekeeper, was also in her room comfortably +ensconced in an easy-chair, and studying a new volume of collected menus +which a friend had sent her from Paris. The servants were not exactly +neglecting their work, but every one was appreciating a certain sense of +peace which the emptying of the house from a crowd of more or less +exacting guests had brought about. + +In one room only things were different, and neither Mrs. Ellis nor Mr. +Harrison, nor any of the household, knew anything about that. It was the +principal guest-chamber on the first floor--a large and handsomely +furnished apartment. Barely an hour ago it had been left in spotless +order by a couple of painstaking servants. Just now it had another +aspect. + +In the middle of the room a man lay stretched upon the floor, face +downwards. The blood was slowly trickling from a wound in the side of +the head down on to the carpet. With nearly every breath he drew he +groaned. Overturned chairs and tables showed that he had taken part in +no ordinary struggle. The condition of the other man also testified +this. + +The other man was Mr. Fielding. He was down on his knees upon the floor, +rapidly going through the contents of a dark mahogany box, which was +apparently full of papers. Scattered over the carpet by his side were +various strange-looking tools, by means of which he had forced the lock. +Mr. Fielding was not at all his usual self. His face was absolutely +colorless, and every few moments his hand went up to his shoulder-blade +and a shiver went through his whole frame. There was a faint odor of +gunpowder in the room, and somewhere near the feet of the prostrate man +lay a small shining revolver. Nevertheless, Mr. Fielding persevered in +his task. + +Suddenly there came an interruption. Footsteps outside in the corridor +had paused. There was a sharp tapping at the door. The prostrate man +groaned louder than ever, and half turned over, proving that he was not +wholly unconscious. Mr. Fielding closed the box and staggered to his +feet. + +He stood for a moment staring wildly at the door. Who could it be? He +had asked, as a special favor, that he might not be disturbed, and Mr. +Fielding knew how to ask favors of servants. Interruption now meant +disaster, absolute and unqualified--the end, perhaps, of a career in +which he had achieved some success. Big drops of perspiration stood out +upon his forehead, drawn there by the pain and this new fear. Slowly, +and on tiptoe, he drew near the door. + +"Who is that?" he asked with wonderful calmness. + +"It is I! Let me in," came the swift answer, and Mr. Fielding drew a +little breath of relief. Nevertheless he was angry. He opened the door +and drew the girl in. + +"You fool!" he exclaimed. "I sent you out of the way on purpose. Why +have you come back?" + +She opened her lips, but no words came. The man on the floor groaned +again. She swayed upon her feet. It was all so horrible. + +"Speak, can't you!" he muttered between his teeth. "Things have gone +badly here. I'm wounded, and I'm afraid--I've hurt that chap--pretty +badly." + +"I was in the park," she faltered, "and saw them. They are all coming +back." + +"Coming back?" + +"They are almost here. Sir George Duncombe told me that they could not +shoot because of the wind." + +"The car?" + +"Downstairs--waiting." + +He had forgotten his hurt. He caught up his hat and a coat, and pushed +her out of the room. He locked the door, and thrust the key into his +pocket. As they walked down the corridor he lit a cigarette. + +A footman met them in the hall. + +"A gentleman has called to see you, sir--a Mr. Spencer," he announced. +"I have shown him into the library." + +Mr. Fielding appeared to hesitate for a moment. + +"It is the man who wants to sell us the car," he exclaimed, turning +towards the girl, "but I haven't even seen it yet. Better tell him to +wait for a quarter of an hour," he added, turning towards the footman. +"I'll just drive down to the lodge gates and back. Come along, Sybil." + +She followed him to the front door. A man was seated at the wheel of the +motor car, and turned his head quickly as they approached. Mr. Fielding +nodded pleasantly, though his face was white with excruciating pain. + +"Kept you waiting, I'm afraid," he said. "Can you drive at all in a wind +like this?" + +"Jump in, sir, and see," the man answered. "Is the young lady coming?" + +Mr. Fielding nodded, and stepped into the front seat. The girl was +already in the tonneau. The man slipped in his clutch, and they glided +round the broad, circular sweep in front of the entrance. Just as they +started the wagonette drew up. + +"We sha'n't be more than a few minutes," Mr. Fielding cried out, waving +his hand. "Sorry you've lost your day's sport." + +"Hold on a minute, and I'll come with you," Runton called out. "That car +looks like going." + +But Mr. Fielding did not hear. + + * * * * * + +Duncombe, who had returned from the park by the fields, was crossing the +road to enter his own gates, when a black speck far away on the top of +the hill attracted his attention. He stood still gazing at it, and was +instantly aware that it was approaching him at an almost incredible +speed. It gathered shape swiftly, and he watched it with a fascination +which kept him rooted to the spot. Above the wind he could hear the +throbbing of its engines. He saw it round a slight curve in the road, +with two wheels in the air, and a skid which seemed for a moment as +though it must mean destruction. Mud and small stones flew up around it. +The driver was crouching forward over the wheel, tense and motionless. +Duncombe moved to the side of the road to let it pass, with a little +exclamation of anger. + +Then it came more clearly into sight, and he forgot his anger in his +amazement. The seat next the driver was occupied by a man leaning far +back, whose face was like the face of the dead. Behind was a solitary +passenger. She was leaning over, as though trying to speak to her +companion. Her hair streamed wild in the wind, and on her face was a +look of blank and fearful terror. Duncombe half moved forward. She saw +him, and touched the driver's arm. His hand seemed to fly to the side of +the car, and his right foot was jammed down. With grinding of brakes and +the screaming of locked wheels, the car was brought to a standstill +within a few feet of him. He sprang eagerly forward. She was already +upon her feet in the road. + +"Sir George," she said, "your warning, as you see, was barely in time. +We are adventurer and adventuress--detected. I suppose you are a +magistrate. Don't you think that you ought to detain us?" + +"What can I do to help you?" he asked simply. + +She looked at him eagerly. There were mud spots all up her gown, even +upon her face. Her hair was wildly disordered. She carried her hat in +her hand. + +"You mean it?" she cried. + +"You know that I do!" + +She turned and looked up the road along which they had come. There was +no soul in sight. She looked even up at the long line of windows which +frowned down upon them from the back of the Hall. They, too, were +empty. She thrust a long envelope suddenly into his hand. + +"Guard this for me," she whispered. "Don't let any one know that you +have it. Don't speak of it to any one. Keep it until I can send for it." + +He thrust it into his inner pocket and buttoned his coat. + +"It is quite safe," he said simply. + +Her eyes flashed her gratitude upon him. For the first time he saw +something in her face--heard it in her tone, which made his heart beat. +After all she was human. + +"You are very good to me," she murmured. "Believe me, I am not quite as +bad as I seem. Good-bye." + +He turned with her towards the car, and she gave a low cry. He too +started. The car was a mile away, tearing up a hill, and almost out of +sight. In the lane behind they could hear the sound of galloping horses. +He caught her by the wrist, dragged her through the gate, and behind a +great shrub on the lawn. + +"Stay there!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Don't move. I will come back." + +Half a dozen horsemen were coming along the lane at steeplechase pace. +Lord Runton, on his wonderful black horse, which no man before had ever +seen him gallop save across the softest of country, pulled up outside +the gate. + +"Seen a motor go by, Duncombe?" he called out. + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Rather!" he answered. "Fielding and Miss Fielding in it. Going like +Hell!" + +Runton waved his companions on, and leaned down to Duncombe. + +"Beastly unpleasant thing happened, Duncombe," he said. "Fielding and +his daughter have bolted. Fielding seems to have half killed a messenger +who came down from London to see Von Rothe, and stolen some papers. Fact +of the matter is he's not Fielding at all--and as for the girl! Lord +knows who she is. Sorry for you, Duncombe. Hope you weren't very hard +hit!" + +He gathered up his reins. + +"We've sent telegrams everywhere," he said, "but the beast has cut the +telephone, and Von Rothe blasphemes if we talk about the police. It's a +queer business." + +He rode off. Duncombe returned where the girl was standing. She was +clutching at the branches of the shrub as though prostrate with fear, +but at his return she straightened herself. How much had she heard he +wondered. + +"Don't move!" he said. + +She nodded. + +"Can any one see me?" she asked. + +"Not from the road." + +"From the house?" + +"They could," he admitted, "but it is the servants' dinner hour. Don't +you notice how quiet the house is?" + +"Yes." + +She was very white. She seemed to find some difficulty in speaking. +There was fear in her eyes. + +"It would not be safe for you to leave here at present," he said. "I am +going to take you into a little room leading out of my study. No one +ever goes in it. You will be safe there for a time." + +"If I could sit down--for a little while." + +He took her arm, and led her unresistingly towards the house. The +library window was closed, but he opened it easily, and helped her +through. At the further end of the room was an inner door, which he +threw open. + +"This is a room which no one except myself ever enters," he said. "I +used to do a little painting here sometimes. Sit down, please, in that +easy-chair. I am going to get you a glass of wine." + +They heard the library door suddenly opened. A voice, shaking with +passion, called out his name. + +"Duncombe, are you here? Duncombe!" + +There was a dead silence. They could hear him moving about the room. + +"Hiding, are you? Brute! Come out, or I'll--by heavens, I'll shoot you +if you don't tell me the truth. I heard her voice in the lane. I'll +swear to it." + +Duncombe glanced quickly towards his companion. She lay back in the +chair in a dead faint. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A WOMAN'S CRY + + +The three men were sitting at a small round dining-table, from which +everything except the dessert had been removed. Duncombe filled his own +glass and passed around a decanter of port. Pelham and Spencer both +helped themselves almost mechanically. A cloud of restraint had hung +over the little party. Duncombe raised his glass and half emptied its +contents. Then he set it down and leaned back in his chair. + +"Well," he said, "I am ready for the inquisition. Go on, Andrew." + +Pelham fingered his own glass nervously. He seemed to find his task no +easy one. + +"George," he said, "we are old friends. I want you to remember it. I +want you also to remember that I am in a hideous state of worry and +nerves"--he passed his hand over his forehead just above his eyes as +though they were hurting him. "I am not behaving to you as a guest +should to his host. I admit it freely. I have lost my temper more than +once during the last twenty-four hours. I am sorry! Forgive me if you +can, George!" + +"Willingly, Andrew," Duncombe answered. "I shall think no more about +it." + +"At the same time," Pelham continued, "there is another point to be +considered. Have you been quite fair to me, George? Remember that +Phyllis Poynton is the one person whose existence reconciles me to life. +You had never even heard her name before I sent for you. You went +abroad, like the good fellow you are, to find her for me. You assure me +that you have discovered--nothing. Let me put you upon your honor, +George. Is this absolutely true?" + +"I have discovered nothing about Phyllis Poynton," Duncombe declared +quietly. + +"About Miss Fielding then?" + +"Phyllis Poynton and Miss Fielding are two very different persons," +Duncombe declared. + +"That may be so," Pelham said, "although I find it hard to believe that +God ever gave to two women voices so exactly similar. Yet if you are +assured that this is so, why not be altogether frank with me?" + +"What have you to complain of?" Duncombe asked. + +"Something has happened at Runton Place, in which Mr. Fielding and his +daughter are concerned," Pelham continued. "I have heard all manner of +strange rumors. This afternoon I distinctly heard the girl's voice in +the lane outside. She was crying out as though in fear. A few minutes +later I heard you speaking to some one in the library. Yet when I +entered the room you would not answer me." + +"Supposing I grant everything that you say, Andrew," Duncombe answered. +"Supposing I admit that strange things have happened with regard to Mr. +Fielding and his daughter which have resulted in their leaving Runton +Place--even that she was there in the lane this afternoon--how does all +this concern you?" + +"Because," Pelham declared, striking the table with his fist, "I am not +satisfied that the girl who has been staying at Runton Place, and +calling herself Miss Fielding, is not in reality Phyllis Poynton." + +Duncombe lit a cigarette, and passed the box round. + +"Do you know what they are saying to-night of Mr. Fielding and his +daughter?" he asked quietly. + +"No!" + +"That the one is a robber, and the other an adventuress," Duncombe +answered. "This much is certainly true. They have both left Runton Place +at a moment's notice, and without taking leave of their host and +hostess. Remember, I never knew Phyllis Poynton. You did! Ask yourself +whether she is the sort of young person to obtain hospitality under +false pretences, and then abuse it--to associate herself in a fraud with +a self-confessed robber." + +"The idea," Pelham said quietly, "is absurd." + +"While we are on the subject," Spencer remarked, drawing the cigarettes +towards him, "may I ask you a few questions, Mr. Pelham? For instance, +had Miss Poynton any relations in France?" + +"Not to my knowledge," Pelham answered. "I have known both her and her +brother for a great many years, and I never heard either of them mention +any." + +"Why did she go to Paris, then?" + +"To meet her brother." + +"And why did he go abroad?" + +"It was a whim, I think. Just a desire to see a few foreign countries +before he settled down to live the life of a country gentleman." + +"You believe that he had no other reason?" + +"I think I may go so far as to say that I am sure of it," Pelham +answered. + +"One more question," Spencer added, intervening. + +But the question remained unasked. The butler had opened the dining-room +door and was announcing Lord Runton. + +Duncombe rose to his feet in surprise. For the moment a sudden fear drew +the color from his cheeks. + +He looked apprehensively towards his unexpected visitor. Lord Runton, +however, showed no signs of any great discomposure. He was wearing his +ordinary dinner clothes, and in reply to Duncombe's first question +assured him that he had dined. + +"I will try a glass of your port, if I may, George," he declared. +"Thanks!" + +The butler had wheeled a chair up to the table for him, and left the +room. Lord Runton filled his glass and sent the decanter round. Then he +turned towards Spencer, to whom he had just been introduced. + +"Mr. Spencer," he said, "my visit to-night is mainly to you. I dare say +you are aware that a somewhat unpleasant thing has happened at my house. +My people tell me that you called there this morning and inquired for +Mr. Fielding." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Quite true," he answered. "I called, but did not see him. He appears to +have left somewhat hurriedly while I was waiting." + +"You did not even catch a glimpse of him?" + +"No!" + +"You know Mr. Fielding by sight, I presume?" + +"I have seen him in Paris once or twice," Spencer answered. + +"You will not think me impertinent for asking you these questions, I am +sure," Lord Runton continued apologetically, "but could you describe Mr. +Fielding to me?" + +"Certainly," Spencer answered. "He was tall and thin, wears glasses, was +clean-shaven, bald, and limped a little." + +Lord Runton nodded. + +"Thank you," he said. "I presume that your visit this morning was one of +courtesy. You are acquainted with Mr. Fielding?" + +"I have not that pleasure," Spencer answered. "I am afraid I must +confess that my visit was purely one of curiosity." + +"Curiosity!" Lord Runton repeated. + +"Exactly. Do you mind passing those excellent cigarettes of yours, +Duncombe?" + +Lord Runton hesitated for a moment. He was conscious of a certain +restraint in Spencer's answers. Suddenly he turned towards him. + +"Mr. Spencer," he said, "may I ask if you are Mr. Jarvis Spencer, of the +'Daily Messenger'--the Mr. Spencer who was mentioned in connection with +the investigations into the Lawson estates?" + +Spencer nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "I am that person." + +"Then," Lord Runton continued, "I want to tell you exactly what has +happened to-day in my house, and to ask your advice. May I?" + +"If our host has no objection," Spencer answered, glancing towards +Pelham. + +"None whatever," Duncombe answered, also glancing towards Pelham. + +There was a moment's silence. Pelham raised his head. + +"If Lord Runton desires it, I will withdraw," he said slowly. "At the +same time I must confess that I, too, am interested in this matter. If +Lord Runton has no objection to my presence I should like to remain. My +discretion goes without saying." + +Duncombe moved uneasily in his chair. His eyes sought Spencer's for +guidance, but found his head averted. Lord Runton raised his eyebrows +slightly at what he considered a somewhat vulgar curiosity, but his +reply was prompt. + +"You are a friend of Duncombe's, Mr. Pelham," he said, "and that is +enough. I have to ask not only you, but all three of you, to consider +what I am going to tell you as absolutely confidential." + +They all signified their assent. Lord Runton continued:-- + +"Mr. and Miss Fielding came to me with letters from my brother, and with +many convincing proofs of their identity. We none of us had the +slightest suspicion concerning them. Their behavior was exactly what it +should have been. Nothing about them excited remark in any way, except +the unusual number of telegrams and telephone messages which Mr. +Fielding was always receiving. That, however, was quite in accord with +our ideas of an American business man, and didn't seem to us in the +least remarkable." + +"The telegrams were delivered through a neighboring office?" Spencer +asked quietly. + +"Yes," Lord Runton answered, "but they were all in code. I happen to +know that because the postmaster brought the first one up himself, and +explained that he was afraid that he must have made some mistake as the +message was incomprehensible. Fielding only laughed, and gave the man a +sovereign. The message was absolutely correct, he declared. He told me +afterwards that whenever he was speculating he always coded his +messages, and it seemed perfectly reasonable." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Just so!" he murmured. + +"This morning," Lord Runton continued, "Mr. Fielding rather upset our +plans. We were all to have spent the day at the Duke's, and dined there. +There was a big shoot for the men, as you know. At breakfast-time, +however, Mr. Fielding announced that he had a man coming over with a +motor car from Norwich for them to try, and begged to be excused. So we +had to go without them. + +"Von Rothe was staying with me, as you know, and just before we started +he had a telegram that a messenger from the Embassy was on his way down. +He hesitated for some time as to whether he ought not to stay at home so +as to be here when he arrived, but we persuaded him to come with us, and +promised to send him back after luncheon. When we got to Chestow, +however, the wind had become a gale, and it was impossible to shoot +decently. Von Rothe was a little uneasy all the time, I could see, so he +and I and a few of the others returned here, and the rest went up to +Chestow. Just as we arrived Fielding passed us in a great motor car with +his daughter behind. When we got to the house Von Rothe inquired for the +messenger. He was told that he was in Mr. Fielding's sitting-room, but +when we got there we found the door locked, and through the key-hole we +could hear a man groaning. We broke the door in and found Von Rothe's +messenger half unconscious, and a rifled despatch box upon the floor. He +has given us no coherent account of what has happened yet, but it is +quite certain that he was attacked and robbed by Mr. Fielding." + +"What was stolen?" Spencer asked. "Money?" + +"No, a letter," Lord Runton answered. "Von Rothe says very little, but I +never saw a man so broken up. He has left for London to-night." + +"The matter is in the hands of the police, of course?" Spencer asked. + +Lord Runton shook his head. + +"Von Rothe took me into his room and locked the door a few minutes after +we had discovered what had happened. He implored me to keep the whole +affair from the Press and from publicity in any form. His whole career +was at stake, he said, and very much more than his career. All that we +could do was to follow Mr. Fielding and drag him back by force if we +could. Even then he had little hope of recovering the letter. We did our +best, but, of course, we had no chance. Mr. Fielding and his daughter +simply drove off. Von Rothe is dealing with the affair in his own way." + +"It is a most extraordinary story," Spencer said quietly. + +Lord Runton turned towards him. + +"I have treated you with confidence, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Will you +tell me now why you called at my house to see Mr. Fielding to-day?" + +Spencer hesitated, but only for a moment. + +"Certainly," he said. "I came because I knew that Mr. Fielding was +half-way to America, and his daughter in Russia. Some friends of mine +were curious to know who your guests could be." + +Pelham raised his head. + +"You lied to me then!" he exclaimed. + +"I had as much right to lie to you," Spencer answered calmly, "as you +had to ask me questions. I had----" + +He stopped short in the middle of his sentence. The faces of the three +men were a study in varying expressions. From some other part of the +house there came to them the sound of a woman's sudden cry of +terror--the cry of a woman who had awakened suddenly to look into the +face of death. Duncombe's uplifted glass fell with a crash upon the +table. The red wine trickled across the table-cloth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS + + +Duncombe was out of the room in a very few seconds. The others hesitated +for a moment whether to follow him or not. Spencer was the first to rise +to his feet and moved towards the door. Lord Runton and Pelham followed +a moment or two later. Outside in the hall the house was perfectly +silent. + +Duncombe reached the library door just in time to find himself +confronted by half a dozen of the men and women servants coming from the +back of the house. With his hand upon the door-knob he waved them back. + +"Be so good, Mrs. Harrison," he said to the housekeeper, "as to keep +better order in the servants' hall. We could hear some girls calling or +laughing in the dining-room." + +"Indeed, sir," Mrs. Harrison answered with some dignity, "the noise, +whatever it was, did not come from the servants' quarters. We fancied +that it came from your library." + +"Quite impossible," Duncombe answered coolly. "If I require any one I +will ring." + +He passed through the door and locked it on the inside. In half a dozen +hasty strides he was across the room and inside the smaller apartment +where he had left the girl. With a little gasp of relief he realized +that she was there still. She was pale, and a spot of color was blazing +in her cheeks. Her hair and dress were a little disordered. With +trembling fingers she was fastening a little brooch into her blouse as +he entered. A rush of night air struck him from a wide-open window. + +"What has happened?" he called out. + +"I have been terrified," she answered. "I am sorry I called out. I could +not help it. A man came here--through the window. He talked so fast that +I could scarcely hear what he said, but he wanted that paper. I tried to +make him understand that I had not got it, but he did not believe +me--and he was rude." + +Duncombe shut down the window, swearing softly to himself. + +"I cannot stay with you," he said, "just now. The whole house is alarmed +at your cry. Listen!" + +There was a loud knocking at the library door. Duncombe turned hastily +away. + +"I must let them in," he said. "I will come back to you." + +She pointed to the window. + +"He is coming back," she said, "at twelve o'clock." + +"Do you wish me to give up the paper?" he asked. + +"No." + +"Very well. I will be with you when he comes--before then. I must get +rid of these men first." + +He closed the door softly, and drew the curtain which concealed it. Then +he opened the library window, and a moment afterwards the door. + +"Come in, you fellows," he said. "I scarcely know what I was doing when +I locked the door. I fancy one of the housemaids has been seeing ghosts +in the garden. I saw something white in amongst the shrubs, but I could +find nothing. Come on out with me." + +Spencer followed with a perfectly grave face. Lord Runton looked +puzzled. Pelham did not attempt to leave the library. Spencer drew his +host a little on one side. + +"What a rotten liar you are, George!" he said. "I don't think that even +Runton was taken in." + +"I suppose it sounded a little thin," Duncombe answered coolly. "Put it +this way, then, so far as you are concerned. The shriek occurred in my +house. I've no explanation to offer to anybody." + +"I like the sound of that better, Duncombe," he remarked. "Hullo! What's +the matter with Runton?" + +Lord Runton was calling to them. + +"You've had a visitor who was in a hurry, old chap!" he remarked. "Send +for a lantern." + +Duncombe concealed his annoyance. + +"I don't want to alarm the whole household," he said. "I've a little +electric torch in my study. I'll fetch that." + +He brought it out. The progress of a man from the road to the small +window, towards which Duncombe glanced every now and then +apprehensively, was marked by much destruction. The intruder had +effected his exit either in great haste or in a singularly unfortunate +manner. He had apparently missed the gate, which at this point was only +a small hand one, and in clambering over the fence he had broken the +topmost strand of wire. He had blundered into a bed of wallflowers, +which were all crushed and downtrodden, and snapped off a rose tree in +the middle. Below the window were distinct traces of footmarks. Lord +Runton, who held the torch, was becoming excited. + +"Duncombe," he said, "there is something which I have not told you yet. +I have had numerous reports in about the car, and was able to trace it +as far as Lynn, but they all agreed in saying that it contained only two +persons--the driver and the man who called himself Fielding. What became +of the girl?" + +"I have no idea," Duncombe answered steadily. + +"Of course not," Lord Runton continued, "but don't you think it possible +that--without your knowledge, of course--she may be hidden somewhere +about here? That cry was not like the cry of a housemaid. Let us have +the whole place searched." + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. + +"As you will," he answered. "I am certain, however, that it will be +useless. There is no place here where any one could hide." + +"Your servants may know something," Runton suggested. + +"I have already questioned them," Duncombe answered. + +"Come along, Mr. Spencer," Lord Runton exclaimed, "let us search the +grounds." + +Spencer shook his head. + +"Waste of time, Lord Runton," he answered. "If you really want to +discover the whereabouts of this missing young lady, and she should by +any chance be close at hand, I should recommend you to induce Sir George +to let you search the room to which those footsteps lead." + +"The library," Duncombe interrupted quickly. "Search it by all means, if +you like. I have done so myself already." + +Spencer was facing the house. + +"The library!" he remarked reflectively. "Ah!" + +He stooped down to light a cigarette. Suddenly he felt Duncombe's hot +breath upon his cheek. In the momentary glow of the match he caught a +silhouette of a pale, angry face, whose eyes were flashing upon him. + +"This isn't your affair, Spencer. Shut up!" + +Spencer blew out the match deliberately. They both followed Lord Runton +to the library. Pelham was standing in the middle of the room. He had +the appearance of a man listening intently. + +"George," he asked sharply, "what is on the north side of this room?" + +"The wall!" Duncombe answered. + +"And beyond?" + +"A passage and the billiard-room." + +Pelham seemed dissatisfied. + +"I fancied," he muttered--"but I suppose it must have been fancy. Do the +women servants use that passage?" + +"Of course! Upon my word," Duncombe added, with a nervous little laugh, +"you all seem to be trying to make my house into a Maskelyne and Cooke's +home of mystery. Let us go into the dining-room and have a whisky and +soda." + +"Not for me, thanks," Lord Runton declared. "I must go back. The real +object of my coming here, Duncombe, was to see if the Mr. Spencer who +called at Runton Place to-day was really Mr. Jarvis Spencer, and if so +to ask him whether he would help me." + +"To what extent, Lord Runton?" Spencer asked quietly. + +"To the extent of recovering, or attempting to recover, the papers which +were stolen from the Baron Von Rothe," Lord Runton said. "The Baron was +a guest in my house, and I feel the occurrence very much. He will not +let me even mention the matter to the police, but I feel sure that he +could not object to Mr. Spencer's taking the matter in hand." + +"I think you will find," Spencer said, "that Von Rothe has already +placed the matter in the hands of his own people. The German secret +service is pretty active over here, you know. I have come in contact +with it once or twice." + +"Nevertheless, for my own satisfaction," Lord Runton continued, "I +should like the matter inquired into by you, Mr. Spencer." + +"I am not quite sure whether I am free to help you or not," Spencer said +slowly. "May I come and see you to-morrow morning?" + +"If you prefer it," Lord Runton said doubtfully. "Come as early as +possible. Good night, Duncombe! I should like to know who your nocturnal +visitor was." + +"If he comes again," Duncombe said, "I may be able to tell you." + +He walked to his desk, and taking out a revolver, slipped it into his +pocket. Then he rang the bell for Lord Runton's carriage. It seemed to +Duncombe that there was a shade of coolness in his visitor's manner as +he took his leave. He drew Spencer a little on one side. + +"I want you to promise to come and see me in any case to-morrow +morning," he said. "There is something which I should prefer saying to +you in my own house to saying here." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Very well," he said, "I will come. I can promise that much at least." + +Lord Runton departed. Pelham went off to bed. Spencer and his host were +left alone in the library. + +"Billiards, or a whisky and soda in the smoke-room?" the latter asked. +"I know that you are not a late bird." + +"Neither, thanks. Just a word with you here," Spencer answered. + +Duncombe paused on his way to the door. Spencer was standing in a +reflective attitude, with his hands behind his back, gently balancing +himself upon his toes. + +"I am very much disposed," he said, "to accept Lord Runton's offer. Have +you any objection?" + +"Of course I have," Duncombe answered. "You are working for me." + +"Was working for you," Spencer corrected gently. "That is all over, +isn't it?" + +"What do you mean?" Duncombe exclaimed. + +Spencer stood squarely upon his feet. He looked a little tired. + +"My engagement from you was to find Miss Phyllis Poynton," he said +softly. "You and I are perfectly well aware that the young lady in +question is--well, a few yards behind that curtain," he said, motioning +with his head towards it. "My task is accomplished, and I consider +myself a free man." + +Duncombe was silent for a moment. He walked restlessly to the window and +back again. + +"How did you find out that she was here?" he asked. + +Spencer looked a little disgusted. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "any one with the brains of a mouse must have +discovered that. Why, Lord Runton, without any of the intimations which +I have received, is a little suspicious. That is merely a matter of A B +C. There were difficulties, I admit, and I am sorry to say that I have +never solved them. I cannot tell you at this moment how it comes about +that a young lady, brought up in the country here, and from all I can +learn an ordinary, unambitious, virtuous sort of young person, should +disappear from England in search of a missing brother, and return in a +few months the companion of one of the most dangerous and brilliant +members of the French secret service. This sort of thing is clean beyond +me, I admit. I will be frank with you, Duncombe. I have met with +difficulties in this case which I have never met with before--peculiar +difficulties." + +"Go on!" Duncombe exclaimed eagerly. + +"I have many sources of information in Paris," Spencer continued slowly. +"I have acquaintances amongst waiters, cabmen, café-proprietors, +detectives, and many such people. I have always found them most useful. +I went amongst them, making careful inquiries about Phyllis Poynton and +her brother. They were like men struck dumb. Their mouths were closed +like rat-traps. The mention of either the boy or the girl seemed to +change them as though like magic from pleasant, talkative men and women, +very eager to make the best of their little bit of information, into +surly idiots, incapable of understanding or answering the slightest +question. It was the most extraordinary experience I have ever come +across." + +Duncombe was breathlessly interested. + +"What do you gather from it?" he asked eagerly. + +"I can only surmise," Spencer said slowly, "I can only surmise the +existence of some power, some force or combination of forces behind all +this, of the nature of which I am entirely ignorant. I am bound to admit +that there is a certain amount of fascination to me in the contemplation +of any such thing. The murder of that poor girl, for instance, who was +proposing to give you information, interests me exceedingly." + +Duncombe shuddered at the recollection. The whole scene was before him +once more, the whole series of events which had made his stay in Paris +so eventful. He laid his hand upon Spencer's arm. + +"Spencer," he said, "you speak as though your task were accomplished. It +isn't. Phyllis Poynton may indeed be where you say, but if so it is +Phyllis Poynton with the halter about her neck, with the fear of +terrible things in her heart. It is not you nor I who is the jailer of +her captivity. It is some power which has yet to be discovered. Our task +is not finished yet. To-night I will try to question her about this +network of intrigue into which she seems to have been drawn. If she will +see you, you too shall ask her about it. Don't think of deserting us +yet." + +"My dear Duncombe," Spencer said, "I may as well confess at once that +the sole interest I felt in Lord Runton's offer was that it is closely +connected with the matter we have been discussing." + +"You shall have my entire confidence, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "The +man who called himself Fielding was badly wounded, and he passed here +almost unconscious. He entrusted the paper or letter, or whatever it +was, he stole from Von Rothe's messenger, to his so-called daughter, and +she in her turn passed it on to me. It is at this moment in my +possession." + +Spencer looked very serious. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "I congratulate you upon your pluck, but not +upon your discretion. You are interfering in what may turn out to be a +very great matter--a matter in which a few lives are like the pawns +which are swept from the chess-board. Does any one know this?" + +"She and I only! You heard her shriek?" + +"Yes." + +"A man threw up her window and climbed in. He demanded the packet. He +searched the room. When he left her he declared that he should return at +twelve to-night, and if she did not hand it to him then he threatened +her." + +Spencer smiled, and rubbed his hands softly together. + +"Really," he murmured, "this is most interesting. I am with you, +Duncombe. With you altogether! There is only one more question." + +"Well?" + +"You did not know Phyllis Poynton. You took up this search for her out +of your friendship for Pelham. You are a rich man, young, strong, with +every capacity for enjoyment. What induces you to risk your life in an +adventure of this sort? You see, I don't mince words." + +Then Duncombe became grave. His face fell into firm, hard lines. Yet as +he spoke there was something boyish about his expression. + +"It is a fair question," he answered. "You won't understand me. I don't +understand myself. I've a brilliant galaxy of fools behind me. They've +made the pages of history interesting. They've been the butt always of +wiser men such as you, Spencer. The girl in that room may be Phyllis +Poynton or the worst adventuress who ever lied her way through the mazes +of intrigue, but I love her! She's in my life--a part of it. If I lose +her--well, you know what life is like when the flame has gone and only +the embers burn." + +Spencer nodded very softly. + +"That is sufficient!" he said. "You speak of things that I myself do not +understand. But that is nothing. I know that they exist. But----" + +"Well?" + +"But what about Pelham?" + +"Pelham has no prior claim," he answered. "As soon as she is safe he +shall know the whole truth. I would tell him at this moment but that I +am a little afraid of him. He would never understand, as we can, the +intricacy of the situation. And now--to the prosaic." + +He rang the bell. + +"Groves," he told the butler, "I am hungry. Bring me in anything you can +rake up for supper on a tray, and a pint of champagne." + +Spencer raised his eyebrows and smiled. Duncombe nodded. + +"For her, of course," he said. "I am going to take it in, and I want you +to stay here. It is past eleven o'clock already." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +HER FIRST KISS + + +"I was never," she declared, "quite so pleased to see any one in all my +life. I was wondering whether it would occur to you that I was +starving." + +He set the tray down for her, placed a chair in front of the table, and +busied himself opening the wine. All the time he was looking at her. + +"Whatever have you been doing to yourself?" he asked at length. + +She laughed softly. + +"Oh, I had to amuse myself somehow," she answered. "I've done my hair a +new way, rearranged all my ornaments, and really I don't think a man has +a right to such a delightful manicure set. I felt terribly nervous in +the lavatory, though. I could hear some one in the billiard-room all the +time." + +"That's all right!" he declared. "I've locked the door there, and have +the key in my pocket. No one can get in from that side." + +"Please talk, and don't watch me," she begged. "I'm ashamed to be so +hungry." + +He smiled and helped her to some more chicken. If he talked he was +scarcely conscious of what he said. All the time his eyes kept straying +towards her. She had taken off her jacket and was dressed simply enough +in a blouse of some soft white material and a dark skirt. Everything, +from the ornaments at her neck, the dull metal waistband, and the trim +shoes, seemed to him to be carefully chosen, and the best of their sort. +She wore no rings, and her fingers had the rosy pinkness of health. If +she had seemed graceful to him before in the drawing-room of Runton +Place, and surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the +country, she seemed more than ever so now, seated in the somewhat worn +chair of his little studio. The color, too, seemed to have come back to +her cheeks. She seemed to have regained in some measure her girlishness. +Her eyes were ever ready to laugh into his. She chattered away as though +the world after all contained nothing more serious for her than for any +other girl. Duncombe hated to strike another note, yet he knew that +sooner or later it must be done. + +"You are quite sure that you will not have anything else?" he asked. + +"Absolutely, thanks! I have never enjoyed anything so much in my life." + +He glanced at his watch. It was half-past eleven. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I am going to be a nuisance to you, but +one's friends often are that. I want to be your friend. I want to prove +myself such. I am not an inquisitive person, by any means, but fate has +declared that I should be your inquisitor. There are some questions +which I am bound to ask you." + +Her face grew suddenly grave. + +"There is so little," she murmured, "which I can tell you." + +"We shall see," he answered. "In the first place, Lord Runton has been +here. He is one of my oldest friends, and a very good fellow. He came to +tell me that Von Rothe had been robbed in his house of some valuable +papers. He came partly to ask my advice. All the time I was sitting +opposite to him, with those papers in my pocket." + +She looked at him strangely. + +"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you gave them up to him." + +"I did not," he answered. "You know very well that I did not." + +"It was your duty," she said in a low tone. + +"Perhaps so. On the other hand," he continued, "you trusted me. The +papers are safe." + +"Does he know that you have them?" she asked. + +"He knows nothing!" + +She looked at him steadfastly--not with any appearance of doubting his +word, and yet as though she were revolving something in her mind +concerning him. + +"I am thinking," she said, "how much better it would have been for both +of us if we had never met." + +"The fates thought otherwise," he answered. "I searched Paris for you, +only to find you at my gates. The fates meant you to be my friend. We +must be careful not to disappoint them." + +She shook her head a little wistfully. + +"You have been very good to me," she said, "but you don't +understand----" + +"Precisely!" he interrupted. "I don't understand. I want to. To begin +with--what in this world induced you to throw in your lot even for an +hour with the man who called himself Fielding?" + +"I can answer no questions concerning myself," she said sadly. + +He smiled. + +"Come," he said, "it isn't so serious as all that, is it? Sooner or +later your friends are sure to find you, and they will not be content +with such a statement as that. You were summoned one day to Paris by or +on behalf of your brother, who had unaccountably disappeared there. You +immediately appear to have followed suit. You had no friends in +Paris--neither, I think, had he. I believe I am correct in saying that +you had neither of you ever been there before. If your brother has +fallen into bad hands, and if those same people are trying to work upon +your fears by leading you into this sort of thing--well, I have friends +who are powerful enough to bring you safely out of any den of thieves in +the world. You are in an impossible situation, my dear young lady. +Nature never meant you for an adventuress. There is no necessity for you +to become one. Why do you look at me like that?" + +There was terror in her face. He had hoped to reassure her, to give her +courage. On the contrary every word he spoke only seemed to increase her +distress. + +"Oh, I am afraid!" she murmured. "I wish I had taken my chance. I ought +not to have burdened you for a moment with my affairs. I have given you +the right to ask me questions which I cannot answer." + +He was perplexed. + +"If you have given promises to these people----" he began. + +"Oh, there is no question of promises," she interrupted. "I am here of +my own free will. I refuse to answer any questions. I pray only if you +would be generous that you ask me none, that you keep me until +to-morrow, and let me go, not only from this place, but out of your +life. Then indeed I will be grateful to you." + +He took her hand in his. She yielded it without any attempt at +resistance, but it lay in his palm a cold, dead thing. + +"I am only concerned for your good," he said gently. "It is your +happiness only that I am anxious for. You were not born or trained for a +life of lies and crime. I want to save you from it before it is too +late." + +"What I do," she said slowly, "I do of my own free will." + +"Not quite, I think," he answered, "but let that pass. Listen! If you +will not talk to me about these things, will you talk to my friend, +Jarvis Spencer? He is a gentleman, and a journalist by profession, but +he is also one of the cleverest amateur detectives in England." + +She held up her hands with a little gesture of horror. Her eyes were +alight with fear. + +"No!" she cried. "No! A thousand times, no! Don't let him come near me, +please. Oh, I wish I could make you understand," she continued +helplessly. "You yourself in Paris only a few weeks ago were in terrible +danger. A girl who only gave, or meant to give, you information about my +brother and me was murdered. You, too, would have been killed if you had +found anything out." + +He would have answered her lightly, but the memory of Mademoiselle +Flossie lying dead upon the bed in that gloomy little room suddenly rose +up before him, and the words died away upon his lips. He was silent for +a moment, and glanced again at his watch. It wanted only five minutes +to twelve. He came and leaned over her chair. + +"Phyllis," he said, "what am I to do about you? I cannot let you go out +of my life like this. No, you must listen to me for a moment. When +Pelham sent for me after you had disappeared he showed me your picture. +I am not exactly the sort of man of whom knight-errants are made. I have +never gone a mile out of my way to meet any woman in my life. My life +here has seemed of all things the best to me. I am a dull, unambitious +sort of fellow, you know, since I settled down here, and I expected to +go on for the rest of my days pretty much in the same way. And yet when +Pelham showed me your picture it was different. I made him give a copy +to me. I told him--liar that I was--that I could not carry the memory of +your face in my mind, when it was already engraven in my heart. And I +went off to Paris, Phyllis, like the veriest Don Quixote, and I came +back very sad indeed when I could not find you. Then you came to Runton +Place, and the trouble began. I did not care who you were, Phyllis +Poynton, Sybil Fielding, or any one else. I let the others dispute. You +were--yourself, and I love you, dear. Now do you understand why I cannot +let you go away like this?" + +He had both her hands in his now, but her face was turned away. Then +without any warning, there came a soft rapping at the door which led +into the library. + +Duncombe reached it in a couple of strides. He opened it cautiously, and +found Spencer standing there. + +"I thought it best to let you know," he said, "that a carriage has +stopped in the lane. If I can be of any assistance I shall be here--and +ready." + +Duncombe nodded and closed the door. The girl was sitting upright in her +chair, with the old look of fear in her eyes. + +"Who was that?" she asked quickly. + +"Spencer," he answered. "He discovered your presence here, but he is +perfectly discreet. He knocked to tell me that a carriage has stopped in +the lane outside." + +She was white with fear, but he only laughed, and stooping down would +have taken her hands once more. But at that moment an unexpected sound +intervened. The deep silence of the house was broken by the ringing of +the front door bell. + +Duncombe started back. The girl half rose to her feet. + +"The front door!" he exclaimed. "The servants will have gone to bed. I +must answer it myself." + +She clung to him with a sudden abandon. She was white to the lips. + +"I am afraid," she moaned. "Don't leave me alone." + +He glanced towards the window. + +"By Jove, it may be a trap!" he exclaimed. "Let them ring. I'll stay +here with you." + +They stood hand in hand listening. His head was turned towards the door, +but the gentle pressure of her fingers drew him round. Her face was +upturned to his. Something of the fear had gone. There was an eager, +almost desperate, light in her softened eyes, and a tinge of color in +her cheeks. He caught her into his arms, and their lips met. She +disengaged herself almost immediately. + +"I don't care," she said with a little laugh. "That is the first kiss I +have ever given to a man, and very likely it will be the last. You +won't be able to say that I have gone away without paying my bill. Now +go and open the front door, Sir George." + +He hesitated for a moment. + +"Say only the word, Phyllis, and no one in the world shall ever take you +away." + +She did not even answer him. He left her with a little sigh. + +"Spencer," he said, "if you hear the slightest noise in that room go in +and shout for me." + +Spencer nodded. The front door bell rang again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE EMPTY ROOM + + +Duncombe unfastened the chain and bolts of the ponderous front door, and +looked out into the darkness. A carriage and pair of horses were drawn +up outside. A man and a woman, both dressed in long travelling-coats, +were standing upon the door-step. + +"This is Duncombe Hall, I believe?" the man said. "Is Sir George +Duncombe at home?" + +"I am Sir George Duncombe," he answered. "Will you come inside?" + +They crossed the threshold at once. The man was tall and dark, and his +voice and bearing were unmistakable. The woman was fair, _petite_, and +apparently very sleepy. She wore magnificent furs, and she had the air +of being in a very bad temper. + +"We really are heartily ashamed of ourselves for disturbing you at such +an hour, Sir George," the man said, "but you will pardon us when you +understand the position. I am the Marquis de St. Ethol, and this is my +wife. I have a letter to you from my friend the Duke of Chestow, with +whom we have been staying." + +Duncombe concealed his astonishment as well as he was able. He bowed to +the lady, and led them towards the library. Spencer, who had heard them +coming, had hastily concealed his revolver, and was lounging in an +easy-chair reading the evening paper. + +"I am afraid that my servants are all in bed," Duncombe said, "and I can +offer you only a bachelor's hospitality. This is my friend, Mr. +Spencer--the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. Wheel that easy-chair +up, Spencer, will you?" + +Spencer's brow had betrayed not the slightest sign of surprise, but +Duncombe fancied that the Marquis had glanced at him keenly. He was +holding a note in his hand, which he offered to Duncombe. + +"My errand is so unusual, and the hour so extraordinary," he said, "that +I thought it would be better for Chestow to write you a line or two. +Will you please read it?" + +Duncombe tore open the envelope. + + "CHESTOW, _Wednesday Evening_. + + "MY DEAR DUNCOMBE,--My friend De St. Ethol tells me + that he is obliged, at great personal inconvenience, to + execute a commission for a friend which involves a somewhat + unceremonious call upon you to-night. He desires me, + therefore, to send you these few lines. The Marquis de St. + Ethol and his wife are amongst my oldest friends. It gives me + great pleasure to vouch for them both in every way. + + "Yours sincerely, + + "CHESTOW." + +"The letter, I am afraid," the Marquis said, smiling, "does little to +satisfy your curiosity. Permit me to explain my errand in a few words." + +"Certainly," Duncombe interrupted. "But won't you take something? I am +glad to see that Spencer is looking after your wife." + +The Marquise had raised her veil, and was leaning back in a chair, with +a sandwich poised in the fingers of one hand and a glass of Burgundy in +the other. She was looking a little less bored, and was chatting gayly +to Spencer, whose French was equal to her own. + +"I thank you very much," the Marquis said. "I will not take anything to +drink, but if you have cigarettes--ah, thanks!" + +He lit one, and sat on the arm of an easy-chair. + +"The facts are these," he said. "I have a great friend in Paris who, +knowing that I was at Chestow, and returning to France to-morrow, has, I +must say, taken some advantage of my good nature. I am asked to call +here and escort home to her friends a young lady, who, I understand, is +for the moment a guest under your roof. My friend, I must say, +telegraphs in a most mysterious manner, but he is evidently very anxious +that we should accede to his request. Our appearance here at this time +of night I admit is most unjustifiable, but what were we to do? It is +absolutely necessary for my wife to catch the two-twenty from Charing +Cross to-morrow. I hope that my friend will some day appreciate my +devotion. To come round by your house I have had to borrow a carriage +from my friend Chestow. We shall have to drive to Norwich, and catch a +train from there to London in the small hours of the morning. I presume +the young lady is here?" + +"The young lady is here!" Duncombe answered. "May I inquire the name of +the friend to whom you are asked to take her?" + +The Marquis yawned slightly. He, too, seemed weary. + +"My dear Sir George," he said, "I trust that you will appreciate my +position in this matter. I do not even know the young lady's name. My +eccentric friend in his telegram, which occupied four forms, most +specially insisted that I should ask or answer no questions concerning +her." + +"You are not aware, then, of the circumstances which led to her coming +here?" Duncombe asked. + +"I am utterly ignorant of them," the Marquis answered. "I am constrained +to remain so." + +"You no doubt have some message for her," Duncombe said. "Her position +here is a little peculiar. She may desire some sort of information as to +her destination." + +The Marquis knocked the ash off his cigarette. + +"If you will produce the young lady," he said, "I think that you will +find her prepared to come with us without asking any questions." + +Duncombe threw open the door which led into the inner room. The girl +stepped forward as far as the threshold and looked out upon them. + +"The Marquis and the Marquise de St. Ethol," Duncombe said to her. "They +have brought me a letter from the Duke of Chestow, and they have come to +take you back to France." + +The girl looked fixedly for a moment at the Marquise. If any word or +sign passed between them it escaped Duncombe. Phyllis was content, +however, to ask no questions. + +"I am quite ready," she said calmly. + +The Marquise rose. + +"Your luggage can be sent on," she remarked. + +Duncombe approached Phyllis, and stood by her side. + +"These people," he said, "will not tell me where they are taking you to. +Are you content to go?" + +"I must go," she answered simply. + +"You wish me to give you----" + +"If you please," she interrupted. + +He turned towards the door. + +"I have something belonging to Miss--to my guest," he said, "in my own +room. If you will excuse me for a moment I will fetch it." + +He returned with the sealed envelope which she had given him, and which +he placed in her hands. He carried also a fur coat and an armful of +wraps. + +"You must take these," he declared. "It is cold travelling." + +"But how can I return them to you?" she protested. "No, not the coat, +please. I will take a rug if you like." + +"You will take both," he said firmly. "There need be no trouble about +returning them. I shall be in Paris myself shortly, and no doubt we +shall come across one another." + +Her eyes flashed something at him. What it was he could not rightly +tell. It seemed to him that he saw pleasure there, and fear, but more of +the latter. The Marquis intervened. + +"I trust," he said, "that in that case you will give us the pleasure of +seeing something of you. We live in the Avenue de St. Cloud." + +"You are very kind," Duncombe said. "I shall not fail to come and see +you." + +Spencer threw open the door, and they passed out. Phyllis kept by +Duncombe's side. He felt her hand steal into his. + +"I want you to keep this envelope for me," she whispered. "It contains +nothing which could bring you into trouble, or which concerns any one +else. It is just something which I should like to feel was in safe +keeping." + +He thrust it into his pocket. + +"I will take care of it," he promised. "And--you won't forget me? We +shall meet again--sooner perhaps than you expect." + +She shook her head. + +"I hope to Heaven that we shall not! At least, not yet," she murmured +fervently. + +From the carriage window she put out her hand. + +"You have been very kind to me," she said. "Good-bye!" + +"An impossible word," he answered, with well-affected gayety. "A +pleasant journey to you." + +Then the carriage rolled away, and Spencer and he were left alone. +Duncombe secured the front door, and they walked slowly back to the +library. + +"You know Paris well," Duncombe said. "Have you ever heard of these +people?" + +Spencer smiled. + +"My dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "De St. Ethol is one of the first nobles +in France. I have seen him at the races many times." + +"Not the sort of people to lend themselves to anything shady?" + +"The last in the world," Spencer answered. "She was the Comtesse de +Laugnan, and between them they are connected with half a dozen Royal +houses. This business is getting exceedingly interesting, Duncombe!" + +But Duncombe was thinking of the empty room. + + + + +BOOK II + + + + +CHAPTER I + +GUY POYNTON AGAIN + + +"I Suppose," the boy said thoughtfully, "I must seem to you beastly +ungrateful. You've been a perfect brick to me ever since that night. But +I can't help being a bit homesick. You see, it was really the first time +I'd ever been away from home for long, and though my little place isn't +a patch on this, of course, still, I was born there, and I'm jolly fond +of it." + +His companion nodded, and his dark eyes rested for a moment upon the +other's face. Guy Poynton was idly watching the reapers at work in the +golden valley below, and he did not catch his friend's expression. + +"You are very young, _mon cher ami_," he said. "As one grows older one +demands change. Change always of scene and occupation. Now I, too, am +most hideously bored here, although it is my home. For me to live is +only possible in Paris--Paris, the beautiful." + +Guy looked away from the fields. He resented a little his friend's air +of superiority. + +"There's only a year's difference in our ages!" he remarked. + +Henri de Bergillac smiled--this time more expressively than ever, and +held out his hands. + +"I speak of experience, not years," he said. "You have lived for twenty +years in a very delightful spot no doubt, but away from everything which +makes life endurable, possible even, for the child of the cities. I have +lived for twenty-one years mostly in Paris. Ah, the difference!" + +Guy shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back in his chair. + +"Well," he said briefly, "tastes differ. I've seen quite all I want to +of Paris for the rest of my life. Give me a fine June morning in the +country, and a tramp round the farm, or an early morning start in +September walking down the partridges, or a gray day in November with a +good gee underneath, plenty of grass ahead, and hounds talking. Good +God, I wish I were back in England." + +Henri smiled and caressed his upper lip, where symptoms of a moustache +were beginning to appear. + +"My dear Guy," he said, "you speak crudely because you do not +understand. You know of Paris only its grosser side. How can one learn +more when he cannot even speak its language? You know the Paris of the +tourist. The real magic of my beautiful city has never entered into your +heart. Your little dabble in its vices and frivolities must not count to +you as anything final. The joy of Paris to one who understands is the +exquisite refinement, the unsurpassed culture, of its abysmal +wickedness." + +"The devil!" Guy exclaimed. "Have you found out all that for yourself?" + +Henri was slightly annoyed. He was always annoyed when he was not taken +seriously. + +"I have had the advantage," he said, "of many friendships with men +whose names you would scarcely know, but who directed the intellectual +tendencies of the younger generation of Parisians. People call us +decadents--I suppose, because we prefer intellectual progression to +physical activity. I am afraid, dear friend, that you would never be one +of us." + +"I am quite sure of it," Guy answered. + +"You will not even drink absinthe," Henri continued, helping himself +from a little carafe which stood between them, "absolutely the most +artistic of all drinks. You prefer a thing you call a pipe to my +choicest cigarettes, and you have upon your cheeks a color of which a +ploughboy should be ashamed." + +Guy laughed good-humoredly. + +"Well, I can't help being sunburnt!" he declared. Henri sighed +delicately. + +"Ah, it is not only that," he said. "I wish so much that I could make +you understand. You positively cultivate good health, take cold baths +and walks and exercises to preserve it." + +"Why the dickens shouldn't I?" + +Henri half closed his eyes. He was a dutiful nephew, but he felt that +another month with this clodhopper of an English boy would mean the +snapping of his finely strung nerves. + +"My friend," he began gently, "we in Paris of the set to whom I belong +do not consider good health to be a state which makes for intellectual +progression. Good health means the triumph of the physical side of man +over the nervous. The healthy animal sleeps and eats too much. He does +not know the stimulus of pain. His normal condition is unaspiring--not +to say bovine. The first essential, therefore, of life, according to +our tenets, is to get rid of superfluous health." + +Guy did not trust himself to speak this time. He only stared at his +companion, who seemed pleased to have evoked his interest. + +"Directly the body is weakened," Henri continued, "the brain begins to +act. With the indisposition for physical effort comes activity of the +imagination. Cigarettes, drugs, our friend here," he continued, patting +the carafe, "late nights, _la belle passion_--all these--all these----" + +He broke off in the middle of his sentence. Simultaneously he abandoned +his carefully chosen attitude of studied languor. He was leaning forward +in his chair watching a carriage which had just come into sight along +the straight wide road which led from the outside world to the chateau. + +"The devil!" he exclaimed. "My respected uncle! Jacques!" + +A man-servant stepped out upon the terrace. + +"Monsieur!" + +"Remove the absinthe, Jacques. Monsieur le Duc arrives!" + +Guy, who also had been watching the carriage, gave utterance to a little +exclamation. He pointed to two figures on horseback who rode behind the +carriage. + +"The gendarmes!" he exclaimed. "They have come for me at last!" + +His face was no longer ruddy. The pallor of fear had crept to his +cheeks. A note of despair rang in his voice. + +His companion only laughed. + +"Gendarmes, perhaps," he answered, "but not for you, my young friend. +Have I not told you that you are in sanctuary here? A guest of the Duc +de Bergillac evades all suspicion. Ah, I understand well those +gendarmes. Let their presence cause you no anxiety, _cher monsieur_. +They are a guard of honor for my reverend uncle and the personage who +rides with him." + +Guy resumed his chair, and sat with his head buried in his hands in an +attitude of depression. His companion leaned over the stone balustrade +of the terrace and waved his hand to the occupants of the carriage +below. They pulled up at the bottom of the steps and commenced slowly to +ascend. In obedience to an imperious gesture from his uncle, Henri +advanced to meet them. He greeted his uncle with graceful affection. +Before the other man, although his appearance was homely and his dress +almost untidy, he bowed very low indeed, and accepted his proffered hand +as a mark of favor. + +The Duc de Bergillac was tall, sallow, with black moustache and +imperial. He possessed all the personal essentials of the aristocrat, +and he had the air of one accustomed to command. + +"Henri," he said, "your young friend is with you?" + +"But certainly," his nephew answered with a sigh. "Am I not always +obedient? He has scarcely been out of my sight since we arrived." + +"Very good! You saw us arrive just now. Did you mention the name of +Monsieur Grisson?" the Duke asked. + +"But certainly not!" Henri answered. + +The Duke nodded. + +"You have discretion," he said. "Monsieur Grisson is here incognito. He +wishes to hear your young friend's story from his own lips." + +The Duke's companion nodded silently. He had the air of a silent man. He +was short, inclined to be stout, and his dress and bearing were almost +bourgeois. His features were large and not particularly intelligent, his +cheeks were puffy, and his gray beard ill-humored. He had the double +neck of the Frenchman of the lower class who has not denied himself the +joys of the cuisine, and his appearance would have been hopelessly +commonplace but for the deep-set brilliant black eyes which lit up his +whole face and gave it an aspect of power. + +"After _déjeuner_, you understand," he said. "It is well that your young +friend should not understand that I came here for no other reason. I +will see first your manuscripts, Monsieur le Duc." + +The Duke waved his hand courteously to Guy as the two men passed along +on their way to the library. Henri resumed his seat with a little shrug +of the shoulders. + +"My respected uncle will bring such strange people here to see his +manuscripts and collection of missals," he remarked. "For myself it is a +hobby which wearies me. And you, _mon cher_ Guy?" + +"I know nothing about them," he answered. "But the gendarmes, Henri? Why +did they ride with your uncle's carriage?" + +Henri smiled reassuringly. + +"The old gentleman," he said, "has something to do with the Government, +and they were in attendance upon him. You can realize, my friend," he +added, "that you are indeed in a republican country. Such people must +have the _entrée_ to our houses, even to our table. I presume that you +will have the pleasure of taking luncheon with him even." + +A man-servant came out upon the terrace. + +"Monsieur le Duc desires me to say that luncheon is served," he +announced. + +Henri passed his arm through his friend's. + +"Come," he said, "let us go and see if we can amuse ourselves with my +uncle's venerable friend. I do not suppose that he speaks English, but I +will interpret for you." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AN OLD STORY + + +Guy moved uneasily upon his chair. The color mounted almost to his +forehead. It was a humiliation this, upon which he had not counted. +Monsieur Grisson was sitting within a few feet of him. A serviette was +tucked carefully underneath his collar, and his face was a little +flushed with the exercise of eating. His eyes, however, were undimmed, +and his manners, although a little brusque, had certainly not merited +the epithet of bourgeois. + +"It isn't much of a story," Guy began, making a desperate effort. "It +was my first visit to Paris, and I lost my head a bit. I drank too much +wine and quarrelled with a fellow who certainly insulted me. They all +told me that I must fight him, so----" + +"Stop, Monsieur Poynton!" + +Guy raised his head in surprise. The exclamation had come from the Duc +de Bergillac. Monsieur Grisson was looking towards him as though for an +explanation. + +"My dear young friend," the Duke remarked with a smile, "it is my +stupidity which is to blame. I had forgotten the little matter to which +you are alluding, and--between ourselves--it is one which is very much +better not related to Monsieur Grisson. I was alluding to your other +adventure--up in the Pozen forest." + +Guy for a moment was too astonished for words. Then he recovered himself +with a little laugh and raised his head. There was nothing terrible in +the other affair. + +"I will tell Monsieur Grisson about that with pleasure," he said, "if it +is likely to interest him. I was in the North of Germany on a +walking-tour, and I had rather a stupid fancy to go as far as the +Russian frontier, and then return by Vienna to Paris. I was quite alone, +and had no one's plans but my own to consult, so I started off from +Steritz, I think the place was called. Well, we were within about forty +miles of a place called Renzan when our train was stopped and shunted. +We were told that some specials were to go by. I should think we must +have waited there for an hour or more. Anyhow I got sick of it, and +passed through the cars on to the rear platform, and down on to the +line. I spoke to the guard, and I understood him to say that we should +not be starting for at least half an hour. I strolled along the line a +little way and stopped to light a pipe. Suddenly I heard a whistle, and +when I turned round the rear light of the train was moving away. I +shouted and ran as hard as I could, but it was no use. In less than two +minutes the train was out of my sight, and I was left alone." + +The Duke pushed a small atlas across the table. + +"I wonder," he said, "if you could put your finger on about the spot +where you were? Here, you see, is the railway line." + +Guy studied it for a few moments carefully, and looked at the scale. +Then he pointed to a certain spot. + +"As near as I could say," he declared, "about there." + +The Duke and Monsieur Grisson exchanged quick glances. Guy was beginning +to feel a little mystified. + +"Proceed, if you please," the Duke said courteously. "I am sure that +Monsieur Grisson finds your story most interesting. Permit me." + +Guy sipped the _fin champagne_ from the glass which the Duke had +carefully filled, and took a cigarette from the box at his elbow. + +"I found myself," he continued, "in the middle of a dense pine forest, +with just sufficient clearing for two lines of rails and no more. There +seemed to be nothing for me to do but to walk ahead in the direction +which the train had taken. I lit a pipe and started out all right, but I +very soon got tired. The sleepers were a long way apart, and the track +between frightfully rough. I walked for hours without seeing the +slightest sign of a station or a break in the woods, and finally I sat +down dead beat. My feet were all blisters, and I felt that I couldn't +walk another yard. Fortunately it was a warm night, and I made up my +mind to crawl under the bracken just inside the wood and go to sleep. I +found a comfortable place, and I'd just gone off when a noise close at +hand woke me. I sat up and looked around. + +"Within a few feet of me an engine and a single carriage had pulled up. +At intervals along the line as far as I could see soldiers were +stationed like sentries. I could see that they were looking sharply up +and down, and even a little way into the wood. From the train three or +four men in long cloaks had already descended. They were standing in the +track talking together." + +For the first time Monsieur Grisson interrupted. He took his cigar from +his mouth and leaned over towards the young Englishman. + +"You were lost yourself. You did not accost them? Ask them the way +anywhere?" + +"It seems odd, I suppose, that I didn't," Guy answered, "but do you know +there was an air of secrecy about the whole thing which rather +frightened me. And those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for +somebody to shoot. Anyhow, while I was hesitating what to do, there was +a whistle and another train came from the opposite direction. Then, of +course, I waited to see what was going to happen." + +"And you saw?" the Duke began. + +"I saw another single carriage arrive, more men in long cloaks and more +soldiers. There was a brief but hearty greeting between two men, who +seemed to be the principals in this little pantomime. Then they both got +into the train which had arrived first, and I could see them sitting at +a table talking, and a third man, who seemed to be a sort of secretary, +was writing all the time. In about half an hour they both stepped back +on to the line, and every one commenced shaking hands and saying +good-bye. Then the whole thing seemed to melt away. The trains went on, +the soldiers climbed into a truck attached to one of them, and +everything was just as quiet as before." + +"And afterwards?" + +"I waited until it was clear daylight, and then I resumed my walk along +the line. I found the next station about five miles off, and I was +thankful to see that the guard of the train which had left me behind had +had the sense to put my luggage out there. I went to the hotel and had +some breakfast, and afterwards I chucked my idea of going so far as the +frontier, and left for Vienna. A week later I was in Paris." + +The Duke nodded. + +"I have asked you this question before," he said "but Monsieur Grisson +is anxious to hear it from your own lips. To how many people did you +tell this little adventure of yours before you reached Paris?" + +"To not a soul!" Guy answered. "I was very dull in Vienna. I found no +one who could speak English and my few words of German did me no good at +all. I came on to Paris within a week." + +The Duke nodded. + +"And in Paris for the first time!" he remarked. "You mentioned the +affair?" + +"Yes! I took up an illustrated paper at a café on the night of my +arrival whilst waiting for supper, and saw pictures of two men there who +reminded me very much of the two whom I had seen on the railway near +Pozen. I think I made some remark out loud which attracted the attention +of a woman who was sitting at the next table, and later on I told her +the whole story." + +"And since then?" + +"Since then I have told it to no one." + +"Was there any one in the café you have spoken of who seemed to take any +particular interest in you?" + +Guy considered for a moment. + +"There was a young lady from Vienna," he said, "who seemed to want to +talk to me." + +The two men exchanged glances. + +"Madame has justified herself," the Duke murmured. + +"She was trying to listen to what I was saying to the English +girl--Mademoiselle Flossie, she called herself, and when she went away +with her friends she threw me a note with two words on it--'_prenez +garde!_' I know it struck me as being rather queer, because----" + +He hesitated. The Duke nodded. + +"Go on!" he said. + +"Well, I may as well tell you everything," Guy continued, "even if it +does sound rather like rot. All the time I was in Vienna and on the +journey to Paris I fancied that I was being followed. I kept on seeing +the same people, and a man who got in at Strasburg--I had seen him +before at the hotel in Vienna--tried all he could to pal up to me. I +hate Germans though, and I didn't like the look of the fellow, so I +wouldn't have anything to say to him, though I feel sure he tipped the +conductor to put him in my compartment. I gave him the slip at the +railway station at Paris, but I'm almost sure I saw him that night at +the Café Montmartre." + +"Your story," Monsieur Grisson said quietly, "becomes more and more +interesting. Monsieur le Duc here has hinted at some slight indiscretion +of yours on the night of your arrival in Paris. I have some influence +with the Government here, and I think I can promise you some very +substantial help in return for the information you have given us. But I +want you to turn your thoughts back to the night you spent by the +railroad. Can you remember anything further about it, however trifling, +which you have not told us?" + +Guy leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. + +"By Jove," he declared, "there is something which I forgot altogether. +Just before that little party in the railway saloon broke up the chap in +the car who had been writing left his seat, and a loose page of paper +fluttered through the window." + +The two men leaned across the table almost simultaneously. + +"What became of it?" the Duke asked sharply. + +"I picked it up and put it in my pocket," Guy answered. + +"Did you read it?" the Duke asked. + +"I couldn't! It was in German!" + +"Where is it now?" Monsieur Grisson demanded. + +Guy reflected. The faces of the two men amazed him. It was as though +great things depended upon his answer. + +"It is with my pocketbook and my letter of credit. I remember that I +kept it as a curiosity." + +"A curiosity!" the Duke exclaimed. "You have it here?" + +Guy shook his head. + +"It is in my portmanteau!" he answered. + +The faces of the two men betrayed their disappointment. They conversed +for a few moments in rapid French. Then the Duke turned to Guy. + +"You do not object to our sending a trusted person to look through your +portmanteau!" he asked. "Monsieur Grisson and I are very curious about +that sheet of paper." + +"Certainly not," Guy answered. "But may I not have my luggage here?" + +The Duke shook his head. + +"Not yet," he said. "It would not be wise. We must give Monsieur +Grisson time to arrange your little affair." + +"I don't want to seem a nuisance," Guy continued, "but about my sister?" + +"She has been assured of your safety," the Duke declared. "For the rest +we will talk later in the day. Monsieur Grisson and I are going to the +telephone. You will find Henri on the terrace." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A BODY FROM THE SEINE + + +"At the sport, my young friend," Henri murmured, from the depths of his +basket chair, "I yield you without question supremacy. Your rude games, +trials mostly of brute strength, do not interest me. Your horsemanship I +must confess that I envy, and I fear that you are a better shot. But two +things remain to me." + +"Only two?" Guy murmured. "What unexampled modesty!" + +"I can drive a racing automobile at eighty miles an hour, and with the +foils I can play with you." + +"I give you the first," Guy answered, "but I'm beginning to fancy myself +a bit with the sticks. Let's have a bout!" + +"My dear Guy," Henri exclaimed, "forgive me, but what a crude +suggestion! The first breeze of the day is just coming up from the lake. +Close your eyes as I do. Can't you catch the perfume of the roses and +the late lilac? Exquisite. In half an hour you will see a new green in +the woods there as the sun drops. This is silent joy. You would exchange +it for vulgar movement." + +"I don't see anything vulgar about fencing," Guy replied. "It's all +right here, of course, but I'm getting stiff, and I haven't the appetite +of a kitten. I should like a good hour's bout, a swim afterwards in the +baths, and a rub down. Come on, Henri! It'll make us as fit as +possible." + +Henri shivered a little. + +"My young friend," he murmured, "you move me to despair. How can an +alliance between nations with such contrary ideals be possible? You +would desert a beautiful scene like this to gain by vulgar exercise an +appetite that you may eat. Can't you realize the crudeness of it? Yet I +must remember that you are my guest," he added, striking the bell by his +side. "Antoine shall prepare my linen clothes, and I will give you a +lesson. Antoine," he added, half turning to the man-servant who stood by +his elbow, "my black linen fencing-clothes and shoes in the +dressing-room, and have the floor in the fencing-gallery sprinkled with +sand." + +The man bowed, and Henri slowly rose from his chair. + +"Don't bother about it, you know, if you mind very much," Guy said. +"Would you rather have a game of billiards, or a swim in the lake?" + +Henri thrust his arm through his friend's. + +"By no means," he answered. "If we are to do anything at all we will do +the thing in which I excel. It feeds my vanity, which is good for me, +for by disposition I am over-modest." + +But they were not destined to fence that night, for on their way across +the hall the Duke's own servant intercepted them. + +"Monsieur le Duc," he announced, "desires to speak with Monsieur in the +library." + +Henri let go his friend's arm. + +"I return to the terrace, _mon ami_," he said. "You can fetch me when +my respected uncle has finished with you." + +Monsieur le Duc and Monsieur Grisson were still together. Immediately +the door was closed the former turned to Guy. + +"Your luggage has been thoroughly searched," he announced, "by a trusty +agent. The letter of credit is still there, but the paper of which you +spoke is missing." + +Guy looked a little incredulous. + +"I know it was there the evening I left the hotel," he answered. "It was +fastened to my letter of credit by an elastic band. The man you sent +must have missed it." + +The Duke shook his head. + +"That," he said, "is impossible. The paper has been abstracted." + +"But who could have known about it?" Guy protested. + +"Monsieur Poynton," the Duke said, "we think it well--Monsieur Grisson +and I--to take you a little further into our confidence. Has it occurred +to you, I wonder, to appreciate the significance of what you saw on the +railway in the forest of Pozen?" + +"I'm afraid--not altogether," Guy answered. + +"We assumed as much," the Duke said. "What you did see was this. You saw +a meeting between the German Emperor and the Czar of Russia. It was +marvellously well arranged, and except those interested you were +probably the only witness. According to the newspapers they were never +less than four hundred miles apart, but on the day in question the +Emperor was reported to be confined to his room by a slight chill, and +the Czar to be resting after a fatiguing journey. You understand that +this meeting was meant to be kept a profound secret?" + +Guy nodded. + +"But why?" he asked. "Was there any special reason why they should not +meet?" + +"My young friend," the Duke answered gravely, "this meeting of which you +were the only witness might, but for your chance presence there, have +altered the destiny of Europe. Try how you will you cannot appreciate +its far-reaching possibilities. I will endeavor to give you the bare +outlines of the affair. Even you, I suppose, have observed or heard of +the growing friendship between my country and yours, which has +culminated in what is called the _entente cordiale_." + +"Yes, I know as much as that," Guy admitted. + +"This movement," the Duke said, "has been looked upon with growing +distaste and disfavor in Russia. Russia is the traditional and +inevitable enemy of your country. Russia had, I may go so far as to say, +made up her mind for war with England very soon after her first reverses +at the hands of Japan. I am telling you now what is a matter of common +knowledge amongst diplomatists when I tell you that it was the attitude +of my country--of France--which alone has stayed her hand." + +"This is very interesting," Guy said, "even to me, who have never taken +any interest in politics, but----" + +"Wait! Russia, as I say, found us indisposed to back her in any quarrel +with England. She turned then, of course, to Germany. We became aware, +through our secret service, that something was on foot between the two +countries. With our utmost vigilance we were unable to obtain any +particulars. It is you, Monsieur Poynton, who have brought us the first +information of a definite character." + +Guy looked his amazement, but he said nothing. + +"To you," the Duke continued, "a secret meeting between these two +monarchs may not seem at all an astonishing thing. To us it is of the +gravest political importance. Some sort of an understanding was arrived +at between them. What was it? That sheet of paper which was once in your +possession might very possibly contain the clue. Now you can appreciate +its importance to us." + +"What an ass I was not to take more care of it!" Guy muttered. + +"There are other things to be considered," the Duke continued. "For the +last month every dockyard in Germany has been working night and day, and +we have authentic information as to a huge mobilization scheme which is +already on foot. We might have wondered against whom these preparations +were intended but for you. As it is, the English Government has been +fully apprised of everything. Your magnificent fleet, under the pretext +of seeing the Baltic Squadron safely on its way, has been gradually +concentrated. From despatches to the German Ambassador which we have +managed to intercept in England, we know that it is intended to raise a +_casus belli_ during the presence of the squadron in British waters. +Quite unexpectedly, as it was hoped, Germany was to range herself on +Russia's side and strike against England. We, Russia's nominal ally, +have had no intimation of this whatever. We are apparently left to +ourselves--ignored. Our friendship with your country has destroyed +Russia's friendship for us. She relies no doubt on our neutrality, and +she makes terms, doubtless absurdly favorable ones, with our ancient +enemy. In the eyes of the world France is to be made to appear +ridiculous. The German Empire is to be ruled from London, and the +Emperor Wilhelm's known ambition is to be realized." + +"It sounds," Guy admitted, "like a nightmare. I know you foreigners all +think we English are a lot too cock-sure, but we have our own ideas, you +know, about any attempt at invasion." + +"I am afraid," the Duke said, "that when it comes to throwing a million +men at different points of your coasts protected by a superb navy you +might find yourselves unpleasantly surprised. But let that pass. Have I +said enough to make you understand the importance of what you saw in the +forest of Pozen? Good! Now I want you to understand this. In the +interests of your country and mine it is most important that the fact of +our knowledge of this meeting should be kept a profound secret." + +"Yes," Guy said, "I understand that." + +"Your presence there," the Duke continued, "created a certain amount of +suspicion. You were watched to Paris by German spies, and if they had +had the least idea of how much you had seen your life would not have +been worth five minutes' purchase. As it is they are uneasy over your +disappearance. There are at least a dozen men and women in Paris and +England to-day who are searching for you! You are moderately safe here, +but not altogether. I want to put them finally off the scent. I might, +of course, put you into such confinement that detection would be +impossible. I do not want to do that. You have rendered your own country +and mine an immense service. I prefer to treat you as a gentleman and a +man of honor, and to take you, as I hope you will see that I have done, +into our entire confidence." + +"Monsieur le Duc," Guy answered, "I can assure you that I appreciate all +that you have said. I am willing to do exactly as you say." + +"To-morrow morning's papers," the Duke said slowly, "will contain an +account of the finding of your body in the Seine." + +"My what!" Guy exclaimed. + +"Your body! We are going to stab and drown you. Perhaps I should say we +are going to discover you stabbed and drowned." + +Guy half rose from his seat. + +"I say----" he began. + +"I need not explain, of course," the Duke continued, "that you will +suffer by proxy. The whole affair has been carefully arranged by the +commissioners of police. + +"An account of your doings since you arrived in Paris will be given, +which I fear may not flatter you, but you must remember that it is +necessary to put our German friends completely off the scent, and in a +month's time or so you will reappear, and everything will be +contradicted." + +"But my sister?" Guy exclaimed. + +"Concerning your sister," the Duke continued, "we have further +explanations, perhaps I should say apologies, to offer you at some +future time. For the present--this only. She is now in Paris. She is to +some extent in our confidence, and you shall see her within the next few +days." + +"And what are you going to do with me really?" Guy asked. + +"You will remain here. Half the servants of the household have been +dismissed, and every one who is not absolutely trustworthy has been got +rid of. We are in close consultation with your English Cabinet, and the +moment the time arrives for us to disclose our knowledge of these +secrets you will be free to go where you please." + +"Absolutely free?" Guy asked anxiously. + +"Certainly!" the Duke answered. "The other little affair is cancelled by +your present services. In fact, as regards that, you need not give +yourself another moment's anxiety." + +A small telephone which stood upon the table rang sharply. The Duke +exchanged a few sentences and replaced the receiver. He turned to Guy. + +"It is an affair of the tides," he said. "Your body was washed up this +afternoon, six hours before time. It will be in the evening papers. Ah!" + +The telephone rang again. This time it was Monsieur Grisson who was +required. He listened for a moment or two with inscrutable countenance. +Then he glanced at the clock. + +"The Russian Ambassador," he said, replacing the receiver, "desires an +immediate interview with me on a matter of the utmost importance--and +the Russian Fleet has left the Baltic!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE + + +Duncombe was passed from the concierge to a footman, and from a footman +to a quietly dressed groom of the chambers, who brought him at last to +Madame la Marquise. She gave him the tips of her fingers and a somewhat +inquiring gaze. + +"Sir George Duncombe, is it not?" she remarked. "I am not receiving this +afternoon, but your message was so urgent. Forgive me, but it was not by +any chance my husband whom you wished to see?" + +"Your husband would have done as well, Madame," Duncombe answered +bluntly, "but I learned that he was not at home. My visit is really to +Miss Poynton. I should be exceedingly obliged if you would allow me the +privilege of a few minutes' conversation with her." + +The forehead of the Marquise was wrinkled with surprise. She stood +amidst all the wonders of her magnificent drawing-room like a dainty +Dresden doll--petite, cold, dressed to perfection. Her manner and her +tone were alike frigid. + +"But, Monsieur," she said, "that is wholly impossible. Mademoiselle is +too thoroughly upset by the terrible news in the paper this morning. It +is unheard of. Monsieur may call again if he is a friend of Mademoiselle +Poynton's--say, in a fortnight." + +"Marquise," he said, "it is necessary that I see Mademoiselle at once. I +am the bearer of good news." + +The Marquise looked at him steadily. + +"Of good news, Monsieur?" + +"Certainly!" + +"But how can that be?" + +"If Madame will give me the opportunity," he said, "I should only be too +glad to explain--to Mademoiselle Poynton." + +"If, indeed, it should be good news," the Marquise said slowly, "it were +better broken gradually to Mademoiselle. I will take her a message." + +"Permit me to see her, Marquise," he begged. "My errand is indeed +important." + +She shook her head. + +"It is not," she said, "according to the _convenances_. Mademoiselle is +under my protection. I have not the honor of knowing you, Monsieur." + +Duncombe raised his eyebrows. + +"But you remember calling at my house in Norfolk, and bringing Miss +Poynton away," he said. + +She stared at him calmly. + +"The matter," she said, "has escaped my memory. I do not love your +country, Monsieur, and my rare visits there do not linger in my mind." + +"Your husband," he reminded her, "asked me to visit you here." + +"My husband's friends," she replied, "are not mine." + +The calm insolence of her manner towards him took him aback. He had +scarcely expected such a reception. + +"I can only apologize, Madame," he said with a bow, "for intruding. I +will await your husband's return in the hall." + +He bowed low, and turned to leave the room. He had almost reached the +door before she stopped him. + +"Wait!" + +He turned round. Her voice was different. + +"Come and sit down here," she said, pointing to a sofa by her side. + +He obeyed her, thoroughly amazed. She leaned back amongst the cushions +and looked at him thoughtfully. + +"How is it that you--an Englishman--speak French so well?" she asked. + +"I lived in Paris for some years," he answered. + +"Indeed! And yet you returned to--Norfolk, is it?" + +He bowed. + +"It is true, Madame!" he admitted. + +"How droll!" she murmured. "Miss Poynton--she is an old friend of +yours?" + +"I am very anxious to see her, Madame!" + +"Why?" + +He hesitated. After all, his was no secret mission. + +"I have reason to believe," he said, "that a mistake has been made in +the identity of the body found in the Seine and supposed to be her +brother's." + +She gave a little start. It seemed to him that from that moment she +regarded him with more interest. + +"But that, Monsieur," she said, "is not possible." + +"Why not?" + +She did not answer him for a moment. Instead she rang a bell. + +A servant appeared almost immediately. + +"Request Monsieur le Marquis to step this way immediately he returns," +she ordered. + +The man bowed and withdrew. The Marquise turned again to Duncombe. + +"It is quite impossible!" she repeated. "Do you know who it was that +identified--the young man?" + +Duncombe shook his head. + +"I know nothing," he said. "I saw the notice in the paper, and I have +been to the Morgue with a friend." + +"Were you allowed to see it?" + +"No! For some reason or other we were not. But we managed to bribe one +of the attendants, and we got the police description." + +"This," Madame said, "is interesting. Well?" + +"There was one point in particular in the description," Duncombe said, +"and a very important one, which proved to us both that the dead man was +not Guy Poynton." + +"It is no secret, I presume?" she said. "Tell me what it was." + +Duncombe hesitated. He saw no reason for concealing the facts. + +"The height of the body," he said, "was given as five feet nine. Guy +Poynton was over six feet." + +The Marquise nodded her head slowly. + +"And now," she said, "shall I tell you who it is who identified the body +at the Morgue--apart from the papers which were found in his pocket, and +which certainly belonged to Mr. Poynton?" + +"I should be interested to know," he admitted. + +"It was Miss Poynton herself. It is that which has upset her so. She +recognized him at once." + +"Are you sure of this, Madame?" Duncombe asked. + +"I myself," the Marquise answered, "accompanied her there. It was +terrible." + +Duncombe looked very grave. + +"I am indeed sorry to hear this," he said. "There can be no possibility +of any mistake, then?" + +"None whatever!" the Marquise declared. + +"You will permit me to see her?" Duncombe begged. "If I am not a very +old friend--I am at least an intimate one." + +The Marquise shook her head. + +"She is not in a fit state to see any one," she declared. "The visit to +the Morgue has upset her almost as much as the affair itself. You must +have patience, Monsieur. In a fortnight or three weeks at the earliest +she may be disposed to see friends. Certainly not at present." + +"I may send her a message?" Duncombe asked. + +The Marquise nodded. + +"Yes. You may write it, if you like." + +"And I may wait for an answer?" + +"Yes." + +Duncombe scribbled a few lines on the back of a visiting-card. The +Marquise took it from him and rose. + +"I will return," she said. "You shall be entirely satisfied." + +She left him alone for nearly ten minutes. She had scarcely left the +room when another visitor entered. The Vicomte de Bergillac, in a dark +brown suit and an apple-green tie, bowed to Duncombe, and carefully +selected the most comfortable chair in his vicinity. + +"So you took my advice, Monsieur," he remarked, helping himself to a +cushion from another chair, and placing it behind his head. + +"I admit it," Duncombe answered. "On the whole I believe that it was +very good advice." + +"Would you," the Vicomte murmured, "like another dose?" + +"I trust," Duncombe said, "that there is no necessity." + +The Vicomte reflected. + +"Why are you here?" he asked. + +"To see Miss Poynton." + +"And again why?" + +Duncombe smiled. The boy's manner was so devoid of impertinence that he +found it impossible to resent his questions. + +"Well," he said, "I came hoping to bring Miss Poynton some good news. I +had information which led me seriously to doubt whether the body which +has been found in the Seine is really her brother's." + +The Vicomte sat up as though he had been shot. + +"My friend," he said slowly, "I take some interest in you, but, upon my +word, I begin to believe that you will end your days in the Morgue +yourself. As you value your life, don't tell any one else what you have +told me. I trust that I am the first." + +"I have told the Marquise," Duncombe answered, "and she has gone to find +out whether Miss Poynton will see me." + +The Vicomte's patent boot tapped the floor slowly. + +"You have told the Marquise," he repeated thoughtfully. "Stop! I must +think!" + +There was a short silence. Then the Vicomte looked up. + +"Very well," he said. "Now listen! Have you any confidence in me?" + +"Undoubtedly," Duncombe answered. "The advice you gave me before was, I +know, good. It was confirmed a few hours following, and, as you know, I +followed it." + +"Then listen," the Vicomte said. "_L'affaire Poynton_ is in excellent +hands. The young lady will come to no harm. You are here, I know, +because you are her friend. You can help her if you will." + +"How?" Duncombe asked. + +"By leaving Paris to-day." + +"Your advice," Duncombe said grimly, "seems to lack variety." + +The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders. + +"The other affair," he said; "is still open. If I stepped to the +telephone here you would be arrested within the hour." + +"Can't you leave the riddles out and talk so that an ordinary man can +understand you for a few minutes?" Duncombe begged. + +"It is exactly what remains impossible," the Vicomte answered smoothly. +"But you know the old saying, you have doubtless something similar in +your own country, 'It is from our friends we suffer most.' Your +presence here, your--forgive me--somewhat clumsy attempts to solve this +_affaire Poynton_, are likely to be a cause of embarrassment to the +young lady herself and to others. Apart from that, it will certainly +cost you your life." + +"Without some shadow of an explanation," Duncombe said calmly, "I remain +where I am in case I can be of assistance to Miss Poynton." + +The young man shrugged his shoulders, and sauntering to a mirror +rearranged his tie. Madame la Marquise entered. + +"You, Henri!" she exclaimed. + +He bowed low with exaggerated grace, and kissed the tips of her fingers. + +"I!" he answered. "And--for this time with a perfectly legitimate reason +for my coming. A commission from my uncle." + +"_L'affaire Poynton?_" + +"Exactly, dear cousin." + +"But why," she asked, "did they not show you into my room?" + +"I learnt that my friend Sir George Duncombe was here, and I desired to +see him," he rejoined. + +She shrugged her dainty shoulders. + +"You will wait!" she directed. Then she turned to Duncombe, and handed +him a sealed envelope. + +"If you please," she said, "will you read that--now." + +He tore it open, and read the few hasty lines. Then he looked up, and +met the Marquise's expectant gaze. + +"Madame," he said slowly, "does this come from Miss Poynton of her own +free will?" + +She laughed insolently. + +"Monsieur," she said, "my guests are subject to no coercion in this +house." + +He bowed, and turned towards the door. + +"Your answer, Monsieur?" she called out. + +"There is no answer," he replied. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS + + +THE Marquise made a wry face at his departing figure, which changed +swiftly into a smile as she turned to the young Vicomte. + +"Ah, these Englishmen!" she exclaimed. "These dull, good, obstinate, +stupid pigs of Englishmen! If they would lose their tempers once--get +angry, anything. Do they make love as coldly, I wonder?" + +"Dear cousin," he answered, "I do not know. But if you will permit me I +will show you----" + +"Henri!" + +He sighed. + +"You are so adorable, Angèle," he murmured. + +"And you," she answered, "are so indiscreet. It is not your day, and I +am expecting Gustav at any moment, I have left word that he is to be +shown up here. There, my hand for one moment, not so roughly, sir. And +now tell me why you came." + +"On a diplomatic errand, my dear cousin. I must see Miss Poynton." + +She touched a bell. + +"I will send for her," she said. "I shall not let you see her alone. She +is much too good-looking, and you are far too impressionable!" + +He looked at her reproachfully. + +"Angèle," he said, "you speak so of a young English miss--to me, Henri +de Bergillac--to me who have known--who knows----" + +She interrupted him laughing. The exaggerated devotion of his manner +seemed to amuse her. + +"My dear Henri!" she said. "I do not believe that even a young English +miss is safe from you. But attend! She comes." + +Phyllis entered the room and came towards them. She was dressed in +black, and she was still pale, but her eyes and mouth were wholly +without affinity to the class of young person whom Henri had expected to +see. He rose and bowed, and Phyllis regarded him with frank interest. + +"Phyllis," the Marquise said, "this is the Vicomte de Bergillac, and he +brings you messages from some one or other. Your affairs are quite too +complicated for my little head. Sit down and let him talk to you." + +"If Monsieur le Vicomte has brought me messages from the right person," +Phyllis said with a smile, "he will be very welcome. Seriously, +Monsieur, I seem to have fallen amongst friends here whose only +unkindness is an apparent desire to turn my life into a maze. I hope +that you are going to lead me out." + +"I can conceive, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered with his hand upon +his heart, "no more delightful undertaking." + +"Then I am quite sure," she answered, laughing softly, "that we are both +going to be very happy. Please go on!" + +"Mademoiselle speaks delightful French," he murmured, a little +surprised. + +"And, Monsieur, I can see," she answered, "is an apt flatterer. +Afterwards as much as you please. But now--well, I want to hear about +Guy." + +"Mademoiselle has commanded," he said with a little gesture. "To proceed +then. Monsieur Guy is well, and is my constant companion. He is with +friends who wish him well, and this morning, Mademoiselle, the President +himself has given written orders to the police to proceed no further in +the unfortunate little affair of which Mademoiselle has knowledge." + +Phyllis had lost all her pallor. She smiled delightfully upon him. +Madame la Marquise rose with a little impatient movement, and walked to +the further end of the room. + +"How nice of you to come and tell me this," she exclaimed, "and what a +relief! I am sure I think he is very fortunate to have made such good +friends." + +"Mademoiselle," he declared with emphasis, "one at least of those +friends is more than repaid." + +She laughed back into his eyes, frankly amused by his gallantry. + +"And now," she said, "we come to the beginning of the riddles. Why is it +necessary for him to be supposed drowned, if he is no longer in danger +from the police?" + +"Ah, Mademoiselle," he said, "I must speak to you now of strange things. +But, first, I must implore you to promise me this, and remember it +always. Every word that I am going to say to you now must remain for the +present a profound secret. That is agreed?" + +"Certainly!" she answered. + +"Your brother," he continued, "in his travels on the Continent stumbled +by chance upon a State secret of international importance. He had +himself no idea of it, but a chance word which he let fall, on the first +evening I met him, gave the clue to myself and some friends. In his +enforced retirement we--that is, my uncle and others--learned from him +the whole story of his adventure. It has placed the Government of this +country under great obligations. This, together with your service to us, +has secured his pardon." + +"This is wonderful!" she murmured. + +"It is not all," he continued. "The spies of the country where he learnt +this secret have followed him to Paris. They are to-day searching for +him everywhere. If they knew that he realized the importance of what he +had seen, and had communicated it to the proper persons here, our +advantage in knowing it would be largely lost. So far they have not +traced him. Now, I think that you have the key to what must have puzzled +you so much." + +"This is wonderful!" she murmured. "Let me think for a moment." + +"You are naturally anxious," the Vicomte continued, "to see your +brother. Before very long, Mademoiselle, I trust that it may be my +pleasure to bring you together. But when I tell you that you are watched +continually in the hope that, through you, your brother's hiding-place +may be found, you will understand the wisdom which for the present keeps +you apart." + +"I suppose so," she answered dubiously. "But now that his death is +reported?" + +"Exactly, Mademoiselle. The affair has been arranged so that the search +for your brother will be abandoned and the espionage on you removed. If +the story of his doings in Paris, and the tragic sequel to them, be +believed by those whom we wish to believe it, then they will also assume +that his secret has died with him, and that their schemes move on +towards success. You understand?" + +"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte, I understand," she answered slowly. "What, +then, do you wish me to do?" + +"Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered, fixing his dark eyes impressively +upon her, "for you there remains the hardest of all tasks--inaction. +Believe me that when I came here, it was not my intention to put the +truth of the matter so plainly before you. Neither was it the will of +those whose orders I carry out. But I, Mademoiselle, before all things, +I believe in inspiration. I find in Mademoiselle"--he bowed once +more--"qualities which alter the situation. I--a judge of faces as I +venture to believe myself--have looked into yours, and many things have +happened." + +She laughed delightfully. Her eyes were lit with humor. + +"Ah, Monsieur!" she protested. + +"With you, Mademoiselle," he continued, "reposes now a secret of great +importance to your country and mine. I ask for no pledge of discretion, +but I rely upon it. And, especially, Mademoiselle, may I warn you +against your friends?" + +"I understand," she answered. "You wish me to share this confidence with +no one." + +"With no one," the Vicomte repeated impressively. "Not even, +Mademoiselle, if I may venture to mention a name, with your very +persistent admirer, Sir George Duncombe, whom I saw here a few moments +since." + +She sighed, and the Vicomte's face became one of pale anxiety. + +"I have not been permitted to see him," she answered. "He was here a few +minutes ago." + +"It is wiser so, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte said. "I wonder," he added, +"whether Mademoiselle will pardon the impertinence of a purely personal +question?" + +"I will try," she answered demurely. + +"This Englishman--Sir George Duncombe--are you perhaps--how you say, +betrothed to him?" + +A certain bluntness in the question, and the real or affected anxiety of +the young man's tone brought the color streaming into her cheeks. + +"Monsieur," she exclaimed, "you really must not----" + +"Ah, but, Mademoiselle," he interrupted, "so much depends upon your +answer." + +"Absurd!" she murmured. "I really do not see why I should answer such a +question at all." + +"You will be merciful?" he begged, lowering his tone. + +"I will," she answered. "I hope you will appreciate my confidence. I am +not engaged to Sir George Duncombe." + +His sigh of relief was marvellous. She found it harder than ever to keep +the laughter from her eyes. + +"Mademoiselle," he declared, "it makes me happy to have you say this." + +"Really, Vicomte!" she protested. + +"The situation, too," he said, "becomes less complex. We can very easily +deal with him now. He shall annoy you no more!" + +"But he doesn't annoy me," she answered calmly. "On the contrary I +should like to see him very much, if I were permitted." + +"Mademoiselle will understand well the indiscretion," he said earnestly. + +She sighed a little wearily. + +"I am afraid," she said, "that I find it a little hard to understand +anything clearly, but you see that I trust you. I will not see him." + +"Mademoiselle is very wise," he answered. "Indeed, it is better not. +There remains now a question which I have come to ask." + +"Well?" + +"Mademoiselle did not by chance whilst waiting for her brother think of +examining his luggage?" + +She nodded. + +"I did look through it," she admitted. + +"There was a paper there, which is missing now--a sheet of paper with +writing on it--in German. It is not possible that Mademoiselle took +possession of it?" he demanded eagerly. + +She nodded. + +"That is just what I did do," she said. "I could read a few words, and I +could not understand how it came to be in his bag. It seemed to be part +of an official agreement between two countries." + +"You have it now?" he cried eagerly. "You have it in your possession?" + +She shook her head + +"I gave it to some one to take care of," she said, "when I was over in +England. I got frightened when we were nearly caught at Runton, and I +did not want it to be found upon me." + +"To whom?" he cried. + +"To Sir George Duncombe!" + +The Vicomte was silent for a moment. + +"You believe," he asked, "that Sir George Duncombe would guard it +carefully?" + +"I am sure he would," she answered. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "this is very important. Your brother's luggage +has been searched, and we came to the conclusion that the paper had been +taken by those who had followed him here, and may possibly have been +aware that he had it. If we can get possession of it, it will be very +much to the advantage of your country and mine. I scarcely dare say +more. Will you give me a letter to Sir George instructing him to deliver +it up to me?" + +She leaned a little forward and looked steadily into his eyes. + +"Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I do not know you very well, and it is +very hard indeed for me to tell who are my friends here. Can I trust +you?" + +"Mademoiselle," he answered, "I will not say 'like your brother,' for it +is a relationship I have no wish to bear. Let me say like the person to +whom your welfare is dearer even than his own." + +Phyllis felt her lips curve into a smile. Despite his youth and manner, +which seemed to her a little affected, there was nevertheless undoubted +earnestness in the admiration which he took no pains to conceal. + +"Very well, Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I will give you the +letter." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW + + +They came face to face in the hall of the Grand Hotel. Duncombe had just +returned from his call upon the Marquise. Andrew was leaning upon the +arm of a dark, smooth-shaven man, and had apparently just descended from +the lift. At the sound of Duncombe's little exclamation they both +stopped short. Andrew turned his heavily spectacled eyes in Duncombe's +direction, but it was obvious that he saw nothing. + +"You here, Andrew!" + +"Yes! Why not?" + +The tone was curt, almost discourteous. Duncombe understood at once. + +"Let us sit down somewhere, and talk for a few minutes," he said. "I did +not expect you. You should have let me know that you were coming." + +Andrew laughed a little bitterly. + +"I scarcely see why," he said. "To tell you the truth, I see no +advantage to either of us in any intercourse." + +Duncombe took him by the arm and led him towards the smoking-room. + +"Andrew," he said, "perhaps I have behaved badly--at least from your +point of view, but remember that I warned you. Let us sit down here. Who +is your friend?" + +"Never mind," Andrew answered. "You can say what you have to before him. +He is in my confidence." + +Duncombe glanced around. The man had taken the chair next to them, and +was evidently prepared to listen to all that was said. His clothes and +bearing, and quiet, unobtrusive manners, all seemed to suggest +truthfully enough his possible identity--an English detective from an +advertised office. Duncombe smiled as he realized the almost pitiful +inadequacy of such methods. + +"Come, Andrew," he said, turning to his friend, "you have a small +grievance against me, and you think you have a great one." + +"A small grievance!" Andrew murmured softly. "Thank you, Duncombe." + +"Go on, then. State it!" Duncombe declared. "Let me hear what is in your +mind." + +Andrew raised his brows slowly. Twice he seemed to speak, but at the +last moment remained silent. He was obviously struggling to control +himself. + +"There is this in my mind against you, Duncombe," he said finally. "I +sent for you as a friend. You accepted a charge from me--as my friend. +And you betrayed me." + +Duncombe shook his head. + +"Listen, Andrew," he said. "I want to remind you again of what I said +just now. I warned you! No, don't interrupt. It may have sounded like +nonsense to you. I meant every word I said. I honestly tried to make you +understand. I came here; I risked many things. I failed! I returned to +England. Up till then you had nothing to complain of. Then, Heaven knows +why, but the very girl whom I had gone to Paris to seek came to Runton +in the guise at least of an adventuress." + +Andrew lifted his head quickly. + +"You admit it at last, then?" he cried. + +"Yes, I admit it now," Duncombe agreed. + +"You lied to me there--to me who had no eyes, who trusted you. What was +that but betrayal, rank, inexcusable betrayal!" + +"Listen, Andrew," Duncombe said. "She told me that she was not Phyllis +Poynton. It was enough for me. I disregarded my convictions. Her word +was my law. She said that she was not Phyllis Poynton, and to me she +never was Phyllis Poynton. She was afraid of you, and I helped her to +avoid you. I admit it! It is the extent of my failing in our friendship, +and you were warned." + +"And now?" + +"I am here now," Duncombe said a little sadly, "because I love her, and +because I cannot keep away. But she will not see me, and I am no nearer +solving the mystery than ever. On the contrary, I know that I am in +danger here. It is possible that I may be driven to leave Paris +to-night." + +"You know where she is now?" + +"Yes." + +Andrew leaned suddenly over, and his grip was on Duncombe's shoulder +like a vise. + +"Then, by God, you shall tell me!" he said fiercely. "Don't you know, +man, that Guy has been found in the Seine, robbed and drugged, and +murdered without a doubt? Do you want me to wait whilst something of the +same sort happens to her? You shall tell me where she is, Duncombe. I +say that you shall tell me!" + +Duncombe hesitated. + +"You can do no more than I have done," he said. + +"Then at least I will do as much," Andrew answered. "I am her oldest +friend, and I have claims upon her which you never could have. Now that +she is in this terrible trouble my place is by her side. I----" + +"One moment, Andrew," Duncombe interrupted. "Are you sure that it was +Guy Poynton who was found in the Seine? The height was given as five +feet nine, and Guy Poynton was over six feet." + +"You should read the papers," Andrew answered shortly. "He was +identified by his sister." + +"The papers said so," Duncombe answered hesitatingly; "but----" + +"Look here," Andrew interrupted, "I have had enough of this playing with +facts. You have grown too complex about this business altogether, +Duncombe. Give me Phyllis Poynton's address." + +"You shall have it," Duncombe answered, taking a leaf from his +pocketbook and writing. "I don't think that it will be any good to you. +I think that it is more likely to lead you into trouble. Miss Poynton is +with the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. They are of the first +nobility in France. Their position as people of honor and circumstance +appears undoubted. But nevertheless, if you are allowed to see her I +shall be surprised." + +The hall-porter approached them, hat in hand. + +"A lady to see Monsieur," he announced to Andrew. + +Andrew rose and took his companion's arm. He scarcely glanced again +towards Duncombe, who followed them out of the room. And there in the +hall awaiting them was the young lady from Vienna, quietly dressed in +black, but unmistakable with her pretty hair and perfumes. Duncombe +watched them shake hands and move away before he could recover +sufficiently from his first fit of surprise to intervene. Then a +realization of what had happened rushed in upon him. They, too, then, +had been to the Café Montmartre, with their obvious Anglicisms, their +clumsy inquiries--to make of themselves without doubt the jest of that +little nest of intriguers, and afterwards their tool. Duncombe thought +of the fruits of his own inquiries there, and shivered. He hurried after +the little party, who were apparently on their way to the café. + +"Andrew," he said, grasping him by the arm, "I must speak with you +alone--at once." + +"I see no object in any further discussion between us," Andrew said +calmly. + +"Don't be a fool!" Duncombe answered. "That woman you are with is a spy. +If you have anything to do with her you are injuring Phyllis Poynton. +She is not here to give you information. She is at work for her own +ends." + +"You are becoming more communicative, my friend," Andrew said, with +something which was almost a sneer. "You did not talk so freely a few +minutes back. It seems as though we were on the eve of a discovery." + +"You are on the brink of making an idiot of yourself," Duncombe answered +quickly. "You were mad to bring that blundering English detective over +here. What the French police cannot or do not choose to discover, do you +suppose that they would allow an Englishman to find out--a stranger to +Paris, and with an accent like that? If I cannot keep you from folly by +any other means I must break my word to others. Come back into the +smoking-room with me, and I will tell you why you are mad to have +anything to do with that woman." + +"Thank you," Andrew answered, "I think not. I have confidence in Mr. +Lloyd, my friend here, and I have none in you." + +"Andrew!" + +"I speak as I feel!" + +"Leave me out of the question. It is Phyllis Poynton you will harm. I +see that your friend is listening, and Mademoiselle is impatient. Make +your excuses for ten minutes, Andrew. You will never regret it." + +The detective, who had evidently overheard everything, stepped back to +them. + +"You will excuse my interfering, sir," he said, "but if this case is to +remain in my hands at all it is necessary for me to hear all that Sir +George Duncombe has to say. The young lady will wait for a moment. This +case is difficult enough as it is, what with the jealousy of the French +police, who naturally don't want us to find out what they can't. If Sir +George Duncombe has any information to give now," the man added with +emphasis, "which he withheld a few minutes ago, I think that I ought to +hear it from his own lips." + +"I agree entirely with what Mr. Lloyd has said," Andrew declared. + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He looked around him cautiously, but +they were in a corner of the entresol, and no one was within hearing +distance. + +"Very well," he said. "To save you from danger, and Miss Poynton from +further trouble, I am going to break a confidence which has been reposed +in me, and to give you the benefit of my own surmises. In the first +place, Mr. Lloyd is mistaken in supposing that the French police have +been in the least puzzled by this double disappearance. On the contrary, +they are perfectly well aware of all the facts of the case, and could +have produced Miss Poynton or her brother at any moment. They are +working not for us, but against us!" + +"Indeed!" Mr. Lloyd said in a tone of disbelief. "And their object?" + +"Here is as much of the truth as I dare tell you," Duncombe said. "Guy +Poynton whilst on the Continent became the chance possessor of an +important State secret. He was followed to France by spies from that +country--we will call it Germany--and the young lady who awaits you so +impatiently is, if not one of them, at least one of their friends. At +the Café Montmartre he gave his secret away to people who are in some +measure allied with the secret service police of France. He was +kidnapped by them, and induced to remain hidden by a trick. Meanwhile +diplomacy makes use of his information, and foreign spies look for him +in vain. His sister, when she came to search for him, was simply an +inconvenience which these people had not contemplated. She was worked +upon by fears concerning her brother's safety to go into hiding. Both +have been well cared for, and the report of Guy's death is, I firmly +believe, nothing but an attempt to lull the anxieties of the spies who +are searching for him. This young woman here may be able to tell you +into whose hands he has fallen, but you may take my word for it that +she is in greater need of information than you are, and that she is an +exceedingly dangerous person for you to discuss the Poyntons with. There +are the crude facts. I have only known them a few hours myself, and +there is a good deal which I cannot explain. But this I honestly and +firmly believe. Neither you nor I nor Mr. Lloyd here can do the +slightest good by interfering in this matter. For myself, I am leaving +for England to-night." + +Duncombe, like most honest men, expected to be believed. If he had +entertained the slightest doubt about it he would not have dared to open +his mouth. The silence that followed he could understand. No doubt they +were as amazed as he had been. But it was a different thing when he saw +the expression on Andrew's face as he turned to his companion. + +"What do you think of this, Lloyd?" he asked. + +"I am afraid, sir," the man answered, "that some of the clever ones have +been imposing upon Sir George. It generally turns out so when amateurs +tackle a job like this." + +Duncombe looked at him in astonishment. + +"Do you mean to say that you don't believe me?" he exclaimed. + +"I wouldn't put it like that, sir," the man answered with a deprecating +smile. "I think you have been misled by those who did not wish you to +discover the truth." + +Duncombe turned sharply on his heel. + +"And you, Andrew?" + +"I wish to do you justice," Andrew answered coldly, "and I am willing to +believe that you have faith yourself in the extraordinary story you +have just told us. But frankly I think that you have been too +credulous." + +Duncombe lost his temper. He turned on his heel, and walked back into +the hotel. + +"You can go to the devil your own way!" he declared. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE + + +Spencer tried to rise from the sofa, but the effort was too much for +him. Pale and thin, with black lines under his eyes, and bloodless lips, +he seemed scarcely more than the wreck of his former self. + +His visitor laid his stick and hat upon the table. Then he bowed once +more to Spencer, and stood looking at him, leaning slightly against the +table. + +"I am permitted," he asked gently, "to introduce myself?" + +"Quite unnecessary!" Spencer answered. + +The Baron shrugged his shoulders. + +"You know me?" he asked. + +The shadow of a smile flitted across Spencer's face. + +"By many names, Monsieur Louis," he answered. + +His visitor smiled. Debonair in dress and deportment, there seemed +nothing to inspire alarm in the air of gentle concern with which he +regarded the man whom he had come to visit. Yet Spencer cursed the +languor which had kept him from recovering the revolver which an hour or +more before had slipped from underneath his cushion. + +"It saves trouble," Monsieur Louis said. "I come to you. Monsieur +Spencer, as a friend." + +"You alarm me," Spencer murmured. + +Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders. + +"You are pleased to be witty," he answered. "But indeed I am no such +terrible person. It is permitted that I smoke?" + +"Certainly," Spencer answered. "If you care for wine or liqueurs pray +ring for my servant. I can assure you that it is not by my own will that +you find me so indifferent a host." + +"I thank you," Monsieur Louis answered. "I think that we will not ring +the bell. It would be a pity to disturb an interview to which I have +looked forward with so much pleasure." + +"_L'affaire Poynton?_" Spencer suggested. + +"Precisely!" + +"You have perhaps come to complete the little affair in which so far you +have succeeded so admirably?" + +"Pray do not suggest such a thing," Monsieur Louis answered +deprecatingly. "For one thing I should not personally run the risk. And +for another have I not already assured you that I come as a friend?" + +"It was then," Spencer answered, "that I began to be frightened." + +Monsieur Louis smiled. He drew a gold cigarette case from his pocket, +and calmly lit a cigarette. + +"Since you permit, _mon ami_," he said. "Good! I speak better when I +smoke. You are not so ill, I see, but that you retain that charming +sense of humor your readers have learnt so well how to appreciate." + +"The dose was scarcely strong enough," Spencer answered. "Or perhaps by +good fortune I stumbled upon the proper antidote." + +"I see that you like plain speaking," Monsieur Louis continued with a +gentle smile. "Permit me to assure you then that the dose was quite as +strong as we wished. Extremes are sometimes necessary, but we avoid +them whenever possible." + +"I wonder where it happened," Spencer said reflectively. "I have been on +my guard all the time. I have watched my wine and coffee at the cafés, +and I have eaten only in the restaurants that I know." + +Monsieur Louis did not seem to think the matter important. + +"It was bound to happen," he said. "If you had been like your +friends--the English baronet and the last two, who are even more +amusing--perhaps it would not have been necessary. But you +understand--you were beginning to discover things." + +"Yes," Spencer admitted. "I was beginning to get interested." + +"Exactly! We were forced to act. I can assure you, Monsieur Spencer, +that it was with reluctance. The others of whom I have spoken--Sir +George Duncombe, Monsieur Pelham, and his toy detective--forgive me that +I smile--walk all the time in the palm of our hand. But they remain +unharmed. If by any chance they should blunder into the knowledge of +things which might cause us annoyance, why, then--there would be more +invalids in Paris. Indeed, Monsieur, we do not seek to abuse our power. +My errand to you to-day is one of mercy." + +"You make me ashamed," Spencer said, with a sarcasm which he took no +pains to conceal, "of my unworthy suspicions. To proceed." + +"You have sent for Sir George Duncombe to come and see you!" + +Spencer was silent for a moment. His own servant unfaithful? It was not +possible. + +"Well?" + +"Even you," the Baron continued, "have not yet solved the mystery of +_l'affaire Poynton_. But you know more than Sir George. Let me recommend +that you do not share your knowledge with him." + +"Why not?" + +"If you do Sir George will at once share your indisposition." + +"I begin to understand," Spencer said. + +"How otherwise? Send Sir George home. You see the delicacy of our +position. It is not so much that we fear Sir George Duncombe's +interference, but he again is followed and watched over by our enemies, +who would easily possess themselves of any information which he might +gain." + +Spencer nodded. + +"It is good reasoning," he admitted. + +"Listen," Monsieur Louis continued. "I speak now on behalf of my +friends. You know whom I mean. You have solved the mystery of our +existence. We are omnipotent. The police and the secret service police +and the Government itself are with us. We have license throughout the +city. We may do what others may not. For us there is no crime. I kill +you now perhaps. The police arrive. I am before the Commissioner. I give +him the sign--it is _l'affaire Poynton_. I go free! It is a certain +thing." + +"Granted!" Spencer said. "Proceed with your killing, or your argument." + +"With the latter, if you please," Monsieur Louis answered. "I do not +choose to kill. _L'affaire Poynton_, then. Harm is not meant to either +of these young people. That I assure you upon my honor. In three weeks, +or say a month, we have finished. They may return to their homes if they +will. We have no further interest in them. For those three weeks you +must remain as you are--you, and if you have influence over him, Sir +George Duncombe. The other two fools we have no care for. If they +blundered into knowledge--well, they must pay. They are not our concern, +yours and mine. For you, I bring you an offer, Monsieur Spencer." + +"_Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes!_" Spencer murmured. + +Monsieur Louis smiled. + +"My gift," he answered, "will not terrify you. You are a journalist. I +offer to make the fortune of your paper. You shall be the first to +announce an affair of the greatest international importance since the +war between Russia and Japan was declared. No, I will go further than +that. It is the greatest event since Waterloo." + +"_L'affaire Poynton_ strikes so deep?" Spencer remarked. + +"So deep," the Baron answered. "It is the fools who grope their way into +great places. So did the boy Poynton. You, my friend, shall be the one +brilliant exception. You shall make yourself the king of journalists, +and you shall be quoted down the century as having achieved the greatest +journalistic feat of modern days." + +Spencer turned his drawn, haggard face towards his visitor. A slight +flush of color stained his cheek. + +"You fascinate me," he said slowly. "I admit it. You have found the weak +spot in my armor. Proceed! For whom do you speak?" + +Monsieur Louis abandoned his somewhat lounging attitude. He stood by +Spencer's side, and, leaning down, whispered in his ear. Spencer's eyes +grew bright. + +"Monsieur Louis," he said, "you play at a great game." + +The Baron shrugged his shoulders. + +"Me!" he answered. "I am but a pawn. I do what I am told." + +"To return for a moment to _l'affaire Poynton_," Spencer said. "I am in +the humor to trust you. Have I then your assurance that the boy and girl +do not suffer?" + +"Upon my own honor and the honor of the company to whom I belong," he +answered with some show of dignity. "It is a pledge which I have never +yet broken." + +"I am a bribed man," Spencer answered. + +Monsieur Louis threw away his second cigarette. He cast a look almost of +admiration upon the man who still lay stretched upon the couch. + +"You are the only Englishman I ever met, Monsieur Spencer," he said, +"who was not pig-headed. You have the tenacity of your countrymen, but +you have the genius to pick out the right thread from the tangle, to +know truth when you meet it, even in unlikely places. I doff my hat to +you, Monsieur Spencer. If you permit I will send my own physician to +you. You will be yourself in a week." + +"You know the antidote?" Spencer remarked grimly. + +"Naturally! Accidents will happen. You wish that I should send him?" + +"Without doubt," Spencer answered. "I am weary of this couch." + +"You shall leave it in a week," Monsieur promised, as he left the room. + +Spencer closed his eyes. Already he felt coming on the daily headache, +which, with the terrible weakness, was a part of his symptoms. But there +was no rest for him yet. Monsieur Louis had scarcely been gone five +minutes when Duncombe arrived. + +Duncombe had had no word of his friend's illness. He stood over his +couch in shocked surprise. + +"My dear fellow," he exclaimed. "I had no idea that you were ill. This +is why I have not heard from you, then." + +Spencer smiled as he held out his hand, and Duncombe, who seemed to +catch some meaning in the upraised eyebrows of his friend, was shocked. + +"You mean?" he exclaimed. + +Spencer nodded. + +"_L'affaire Poynton_" he said gently. "A very subtle dose of poison +indeed, my friend. I shall not die, but I have had my little lesson. +Here the individual has little chance. We fight against forces that are +too many for us. I told you so at the start." + +"Yet I," Duncombe answered, "have not suffered." + +"My friend," Spencer answered, "it is because I am the more dangerous." + +"You have discovered something?" Duncombe exclaimed. + +"I came near discovering a great deal," Spencer answered. "Perhaps it +would have been better for my system if I had discovered a little less. +As it is I have finished with _l'affaire Poynton_ for the present. You +see how very nearly _l'affaire Poynton_ finished me." + +"It is not like you," Duncombe said thoughtfully, "to give anything up." + +"We come face to face sometimes with unique experiences, which destroy +precedent," Spencer answered. "This is one of them." + +"And what," Duncombe asked, "do you advise me to do?" + +"Always the same advice," Spencer answered. "Leave Paris to-day. Go +straight back to Norfolk, read the newspapers, and await events." + +"Well, I think that I shall do so," Duncombe answered slowly. "I have +found out where Miss Poynton is, but she will not see me. I have made an +enemy of my dearest friend, and I have, at any rate, interrupted your +career and endangered your life. Yes, I will go back home." + +"You may yet save your friend some--inconvenience," Spencer suggested. +"Try to persuade him to go back with you." + +"He will not listen to me," Duncombe answered. "He has brought an +English detective with him, and he is as obstinate as a mule. For myself +I leave at nine o'clock." + +"You are well advised, exceedingly well advised," Spencer said. "Mind I +do not take the responsibility of sending you away without serious +reasons. I honestly believe that Miss Poynton is safe, whatever may have +happened to her brother, and I believe that you will serve her best by +your temporary absence." + +Duncombe stood for a moment wrapped in thought. The last few months had +aged him strangely. The strenuous days and nights of anxious thought had +left their mark in deep lines upon his face. He looked out of the +window of Spencer's room, and his eyes saw little of the busy street +below. He was alone once more with this strange, terrified girl upon the +hillside, with the wind in their faces, and making wild havoc in her +hair. He was with her in different moods in the little room behind his +library, when the natural joy of her young life had for the moment +reasserted itself. He was with her at their parting. He saw half the +fearful regret with which she had left his care and accepted the +intervention of the Marquise. Stirring times these had been for a man of +his quiet temperament, whom matters of sentiment and romance had passed +lightly by, and whose passions had never before been touched by the +finger of fire. And now he was going back to an empty life--a life at +least empty of joy, save the hope of seeing her again. For good or for +evil, the great thing had found its way into his life. His days of calm +animal enjoyment were over. Sorrow or joy was to be his. He had passed +into the shadows of the complex life. + +He remembered where he was at last, and turned to Spencer. + +"About yourself, Spencer," he said. "Have you seen a doctor?" + +"Yes. I am not seriously ill," his friend answered. "The worst is over +now. And, Duncombe, it's hard for you to go, I know--but look here, I +believe that you will be back in a month, and taking Miss Poynton to +lunch _chez_ Ritz. I never felt so sure of it as I do to-day." + +Duncombe remembered the answer to his note, and found it hard to share +his friend's cheerfulness. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A POLITICAL INTERLUDE + + +Duncombe laid down his cue and strolled towards the sideboard, where his +guest was already mixing himself a whisky and soda. + +"By the by, Runton," he said, "have you seen anything of our friend Von +Rothe since that little affair at your place?" + +Lord Runton shook his head. + +"Not once," he answered. "He behaved very decently about it on the +whole; treated it quite lightly--but he wouldn't let me go near the +police. It was a long way the most unpleasant thing that ever happened +in my house." + +"Never any further light upon it, I suppose?" Duncombe asked. + +Lord Runton shook his head. + +"None. Of course we could have traced them both without a doubt if we +had put it in the hands of the police, but Von Rothe wouldn't hear of +it. He tried to treat it lightly, but I know that he was very much +worried." + +"Do you yourself believe," Duncombe asked, "that it was a political +affair or an ordinary robbery?" + +"I think that it was the former," Lord Runton answered. "Those people +were not common adventurers. By the by, George, have you got over your +little weakness yet?" he added with a smile. + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. + +"Nearly made a fool of myself, didn't I?" he remarked, with a levity +which did not sound altogether natural. + +"She was an uncommonly fascinating young woman," Lord Runton said, "but +she didn't seem to me very old at the game. She was clever enough to +fool Von Rothe, though. He admits that he told her that he was expecting +a special messenger from Berlin." + +Duncombe seemed to have had enough of the subject. He got up and filled +his pipe. + +"Is Jack coming down this week?" he asked. + +"No! He wired this morning that he can't get away. Sefton isn't coming, +either. Between ourselves, George, something seems to be going on at the +Foreign Office which I don't understand." + +"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked. "There has been no hint at any sort +of trouble in the papers." + +"That's just what I don't understand," Lord Runton continued. "It is +certain that there is an extraordinary amount of activity at Portsmouth +and Woolwich, but even the little halfpenny sensational papers make no +more than a passing allusion to it. Then look at the movements of our +fleet. The whole of the Mediterranean Fleet is at Gibraltar, and the +Channel Squadron is moving up the North Sea as though to join the Home +Division. All these movements are quite unusual." + +"What do you make of them then?" Duncombe asked. + +"I scarcely know," Lord Runton answered. "But I can tell you this. There +have been three Cabinet Councils this week, and there is a curious air +of apprehension in official circles in town, as though something were +about to happen. The service clubs are almost deserted, and I know for a +fact that all leave in the navy has been suspended. What I don't +understand is the silence everywhere. It looks to me as though there +were really going to be trouble. The Baltic Fleet sailed this morning, +you know." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"But," he said, "even if they were ill disposed to us, as no doubt +Russia is just now, what could they do? One squadron of our fleet could +send them to the bottom." + +"No doubt," Lord Runton answered. "But supposing they found an ally?" + +"France will never go to war with us for Russia's benefit," Duncombe +declared. + +"Granted," Lord Runton answered, "but have you watched Germany's +attitude lately?" + +"I can't say that I have," Duncombe admitted, "but I should never look +upon Germany as a war-seeking nation." + +"No, I dare say not," Lord Runton answered. "Nor would a great many +other people. Every one is willing to admit that she would like our +Colonies, but no one will believe that she has the courage to strike a +blow for them. I will tell you what I believe, Duncombe. I believe that +no Great Power has ever before been in so dangerous a position as we are +in to-day." + +Duncombe sat up in his chair. The weariness passed from his face, and he +was distinctly interested. Lord Runton, without being an ardent +politician, was a man of common-sense, and was closely connected with +more than one member of the Cabinet. + +"Are you serious, Runton?" he asked. + +"Absolutely! Remember, I was in Berlin for two years, and I had many +opportunities of gaining an insight into affairs there. What I can see +coming now I have expected for years. There are two great factors which +make for war. One is the character of the Emperor himself, and the other +the inevitable rot, which must creep like a disease into a great army +kept always upon a war footing, through a decade or more of inactivity. +The Emperor is shrewd enough to see this. Nothing can possibly exist at +its best which is not used for the purpose to which it owes its +existence. That is why we have this flood of literature just now telling +us of the gross abuses and general rottenness of the German army. +Another five years of idleness, and Germany's position as the first +military nation will have passed away. Like every other great power, it +is rusting for want of use. The Emperor knows this." + +Duncombe for many reasons was fascinated by his friend's quiet words. +Apart from their obvious plausibility, they brought with them many +startling suggestions. Had chance, he wondered, really made Phyllis +Poynton and her brother pawns in the great game? He felt himself stirred +to a rare emotion by the flood of possibilities which swept in suddenly +upon him. Lord Runton noted with surprise the signs of growing +excitement in his listener. + +"Go on, Runton. Anything else?" + +Lord Runton helped himself to a cigarette, and leaned across to light +it. + +"Of course," he continued, "I know that there are a great many people +who firmly believe that for commercial reasons Germany would never seek +a quarrel with us. I will agree with them so far as to say that I do not +believe that a war with England would be popular amongst the bourgeois +of Germany. On the other hand, they would be quite powerless to prevent +it. The Emperor and his ministers have the affair in their own hands. A +slight break in our diplomatic relations, some trifle seized hold of by +the Press and magnified at once into an insult, and the war torch is +kindled. To-day war does not come about by the slowly growing desire of +nations. The threads of fate are in the hands of a few diplomatists at +Berlin and London--a turn of the wrist, and there is tension which a +breath can turn either way. You ask me why the Emperor should choose +England for attack. There are many reasons: first, because England alone +could repay him for the struggle; secondly, because he is intensely and +miserably jealous of our own King, who has avoided all his own +hot-headed errors, and has yet played a great and individual part in the +world's affairs; thirdly, because England is most easily attacked. I +could give you other reasons if you wanted them." + +"Quite enough," Duncombe answered. "What do you suppose would be the +_casus belli_?" + +"The progress of the Russian fleet through English waters," Lord Runton +answered promptly. "Russia's interest in such a misunderstanding would +be, of course, immense. She has only to fire on an English ship, by +mistake of course, and the whole fat would be in the fire. England +probably would insist upon the squadron being detained, Germany would +protest against any such action. We might very well be at war with +Russia and Germany within ten days. Russia would immediately either make +terms with Japan, or abandon any active operations in Manchuria and move +upon India. Germany would come for us." + +"Is this all purely imagination?" Duncombe asked, "or have you anything +to go on?" + +"So far as I am concerned," Lord Runton said slowly, "I, of course, know +nothing. But I have a strong idea that the Government have at least a +suspicion of some secret understanding between Russia and Germany. Their +preparations seem almost to suggest it. Of course we outsiders can only +guess, after all, at what is going on, but it seems to me that there is +a chance to-day for our Government to achieve a diplomatic _coup_." + +"In what direction?" + +"An alliance with France. Mind, I am afraid that there are +insurmountable obstacles, but if it were possible it would be checkmate +to our friend the Emperor, and he would have nothing left but to climb +down. The trouble is that in the absence of any definite proof of an +understanding between Russia and Germany, France could not break away +from her alliance with the former. Our present arrangement would ensure, +I believe, a benevolent neutrality, but an alliance, if only it could be +compassed, would be the greatest diplomatic triumph of our days. Hullo! +Visitors at this hour. Wasn't that your front-door bell, Duncombe?" + +"It sounded like it," Duncombe answered. "Perhaps it is your man." + +"Like his cheek, if it is!" Lord Runton answered, rising to his feet and +strolling towards the sideboard. "I told him I would telephone round to +the stables when I was ready. I suppose it is rather late, though I +sha'n't apologize for keeping you up." + +"I hope you won't," Duncombe answered. "I have never been more +interested in my life--for many reasons. Don't bother about your man. +Groves will see to him. Help yourself to another whisky and soda, and +come and sit down." + +There was a knock at the door, and the butler appeared. + +"There are three gentlemen outside, sir, who wish to see you," he +announced to Duncombe. "They will not give their names, but they say +that their business is important, or they would not have troubled you so +late." + +Duncombe glanced at the clock. It was past midnight. + +"Three gentlemen," he repeated, "at this time of night. But where on +earth have they come from, Groves?" + +"They did not say, sir," the man answered. "One of them I should judge +to be a foreigner. They have a motor car outside." + +Lord Runton held out his hand. + +"Well, it's time I was off, anyhow," he remarked. "Come over and have +lunch to-morrow. Don't bother about me. I'll stroll round to the stables +and start from there. Good night." + +Duncombe hesitated. He was on the point of asking his friend to stay, +but before he could make up his mind Runton had lit a cigarette and +strolled away. + +"You can show the gentlemen in here, Groves," Duncombe said. + +"Very good, sir." + +The man disappeared. Duncombe, after a moment's hesitation, crossed the +room, and opening an oak cupboard, slipped a small revolver into his +pocket. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ARRESTED! + + +One of his three visitors Duncombe recognized immediately. It was +Monsieur Louis. Of the other two one was a Frenchman, a somewhat +sombre-looking person, in a black beard and gold-rimmed eyeglasses, the +other as unmistakably an Englishman of the lower middle class. His broad +shoulders and somewhat stiff bearing seemed to suggest some sort of +drill. Looking them over, Duncombe found himself instinctively wondering +whether the personal strength of these two, which was obvious, might +become a factor in the coming interview. + +The Baron naturally was spokesman. He bowed very gravely to Duncombe, +and did not offer his hand. + +"I must apologize, Sir George," he said, "for disturbing you at such an +inopportune hour. Our business, however, made it necessary for us to +reach you with as little delay as possible." + +"Perhaps you will be good enough to explain," Duncombe answered, "what +that business is." + +The Baron raised his hands with a little protesting gesture. + +"I regret to tell you, Sir George," he announced, "that it is of a most +unpleasant nature. I could wish that its execution had fallen into other +hands. My companions are Monsieur Ridalle, of the French detective +service, and our other friend here, whom I do not know, is a constable +from the Norwich Police Court. My own connections with the police +service of my country you have already, without doubt, surmised." + +"Go on," Duncombe said. + +"I regret to say," Monsieur Louis continued, "that my friends here are +in charge of a warrant for your arrest. You will find them possessed of +all the legal documents, French and English. We shall have to ask you to +come to Norwich with us to-night." + +"Arrest!" Duncombe repeated. "On what charge?" + +"An extremely serious one," the Baron answered gravely. "The charge of +murder!" + +Duncombe stared at him in amazement. + +"Murder!" he repeated. "What rubbish!" + +"The murder of Mademoiselle de Mermillon in her lodging on the night of +the seventh of June last," the Baron said gravely. "Please do not make +any remarks before these men. The evidence against you is already +sufficiently strong." + +Duncombe laughed derisively. + +"What sort of a puppet show is this?" he exclaimed. "You know as well as +any man living how that poor girl came to her end. This is a cover for +something else, of course. What do you want of me? Let's get at it +without wasting time." + +"What we want of you is, I am afraid, only too simple," the Baron +answered, shrugging his shoulders. "We must ask you to accompany us at +once to Norwich Castle. You will have to appear before the magistrates +in the morning, when they will sign the extradition warrant. Our friend +here, Monsieur Ridalle, will then take charge of you. Perhaps you would +like to look through the documents. You will find them all in perfect +order." + +Duncombe mechanically glanced through the French and English papers +which were spread out before him. They had certainly a most +uncomfortable appearance of being genuine. He began to feel a little +bewildered. + +"You mean to say that you have come here to arrest me on this charge? +That you want me to go away with you to-night?" he asked. + +"It is not a matter of wanting you to come," the Baron answered coldly. +"It is a matter of necessity." + +Duncombe moved towards the fireplace. + +"Will you allow me the privilege of a few moments' conversation with you +in private?" he said to the Baron. "Your companions will perhaps excuse +you for a moment." + +The Baron followed without remark. They stood facing one another upon +the hearthrug. Duncombe leaned one elbow upon the mantlepiece, and +turned towards his companion. + +"Look here," he said, "those papers seem genuine enough, and if you +insist upon it I will go with you to Norwich. I shall take care not to +let you out of my sight, and if when we get there I find that this is +any part of one of your confounded conspiracies you will find that the +penalties for this sort of thing in England are pretty severe. However, +no doubt you are well aware of that. The question is this. What do you +really want from me?" + +Monsieur Louis, who had lit a cigarette, withdrew it from his mouth and +examined the lighted end for a moment in silence. + +"The documents," he said, "are genuine. You are arraigned in perfectly +legal fashion. Upon the affidavits there the magistrates must grant the +extradition warrant without hesitation. We have nothing to fear in that +direction." + +"The police," Duncombe remarked, "are perfectly aware of my innocence." + +Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. + +"The evidence," he said, "is remarkably convincing." + +"Police-concocted evidence," Duncombe remarked, "would necessarily be +so. I admit that you hold a strong card against me. I don't believe, +however, that you have gone to all this trouble without some ulterior +motive. What is it? What can I offer you in exchange for these +documents?" + +Monsieur Louis smiled. + +"You are a man of common-sense, Sir George," he said. "I will speak to +you without reserve. It is possible that you might be able to offer the +Government department of my country to which I am attached an inducement +to interest themselves in your behalf. Mind, I am not sure. But if my +information is correct there is certainly a possibility." + +"The Government department of your country to which you are attached," +Duncombe repeated thoughtfully. "Let me understand you. You mean the +secret service police?" + +Monsieur Louis glanced a little nervously over his shoulder. + +"Never mind what I mean, Sir George," he said quickly. "There are things +which we do not speak of openly. This much is sufficient. I represent a +power which can influence and direct even the criminal courts of justice +of France." + +"What bribe have I to offer you?" Duncombe asked. "Information? You know +more than I do. I am afraid you have been misled." + +"I think not," Monsieur Louis said quickly. "I will tell you what we +want. A paper was left in your charge by Miss Phyllis Poynton at the +time she was visiting at Runton Place." + +"What of it?" Duncombe asked. + +The Frenchman's face was suddenly tense with excitement. He recovered +himself almost at once, but his voice shook, and a new earnestness found +its way into his manner. + +"Miss Poynton and her brother are with us," he said. "It is we who have +been their benefactors. You know a good deal of their peculiar +circumstances. A sudden need has arisen for the production of that paper +within twenty-four hours. Give it to me now, and I will run the greatest +risk I have ever run in my career. I will tear those warrants through." + +"Have you any authority from Miss Poynton?" Duncombe asked. + +"There was no time to procure it," Monsieur Louis explained. "Events +march rapidly to-day. To be effective that paper must be in Paris +to-morrow. The necessity for its production arose only a few hours ago." + +"You ask me, then," Duncombe said slowly, "to hand over to you a paper +which was placed in my charge by Miss Poynton?" + +"In effect--yes!" + +"I cannot do it!" + +Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders. + +"I do not insist," he remarked. "I may be permitted to remind you, +however, that I have offered a great price." + +"Perhaps!" Duncombe answered quietly. + +Monsieur Louis turned to his assistants. + +"Sir George Duncombe will accompany us," he said. "I can give you ten +minutes, Sir George," he added, "in case you care to change your +clothes." + +"And supposing I refuse to come?" Duncombe asked. + +Monsieur Louis smiled. + +"You would scarcely be so foolish," he remarked. "In that case I should +send the policeman here to the nearest station with the warrants and a +demand for help. Our documents are in perfect order, and our case +complete. You would scarcely be so foolish, I think, as to set yourself +in direct opposition to the law!" + +Duncombe was silent for several moments. Then he rang the bell. Monsieur +Louis looked at him inquiringly, but before he could frame a question +the butler was in the room. + +"Pack my things for a week, Groves," Duncombe ordered. "I am going away +to-night." + +The man bowed and withdrew. Monsieur Louis merely shrugged his +shoulders. + +"A week!" he remarked. "You will be fortunate if you ever see your home +again. Come, Sir George, be reasonable! I give you my word of honor that +it is altogether to the interest of Miss Poynton that those papers be +immediately produced. If she were here herself she would place them in +my hands without a moment's hesitation." + +"Possibly!" Duncombe answered. "Suppositions, however, do not interest +me. I undertook the charge of what she gave me, and I shall fulfil my +trust." + +Monsieur Louis turned to the policeman. + +"Officer," he said, "this is Sir George Duncombe. Do your duty." + +The man stepped forward and laid his hand upon Sir George's shoulder. + +"Very sorry, sir," he said. "I am forced to arrest you on this warrant +for the murder of Florence Mermillon on the night of the seventh of +June. You will be brought before the magistrates at Norwich to-morrow." + +Duncombe waved his hand towards the sideboard. + +"If you gentlemen," he remarked, "would care for a little refreshment +before you start?" + +"It is against the rules, sir, thank you," the man answered. "I should +be glad to get away as soon as possible." + +Duncombe filled both his pockets with cigars and cigarettes. Then he +turned towards the door. + +"I am quite ready," he said. + +They followed him out. There was a few minutes' delay waiting for +Duncombe's bag. + +"Your address, Sir George?" Groves inquired, as he brought it down. + +"A little doubtful," Duncombe answered. "I will wire." + +"In front, please, Sir George," Monsieur Louis insisted. + +So they drove off, Duncombe in the front seat, the other three behind. +The car gathered speed rapidly. In less than an hour they were half-way +to Norwich. Then suddenly the driver took a sharp corner and turned down +a long desolate lane. + +"You're off the main road," Duncombe explained. "You should have kept +straight on for Norwich." + +The man took no notice. He even increased his speed. Duncombe was in the +act of turning round when he felt the sudden swish of a wet cloth upon +his face. He tried to break away, but he was held from behind as in a +vise. Then his head fell back, and he remembered no more. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS + + +At three o'clock in the morning Groves, in a discarded dressing-gown of +his master's, opened the front door and peered cautiously out into the +darkness. Monsieur Louis, who was standing upon the door-step, pushed +past him into the hall. + +"Your master has sent me back to fetch some papers," he announced, +displaying a bunch of keys. "I am sorry to disturb you like this, but +the matter is important. Please bring me a cup of coffee into the +library in half an hour." + +Groves, who was sorely perplexed, stood with his back to the door which +Monsieur Louis had approached. + +"Really, sir," he answered, "I scarcely know what to say. I am afraid +that I cannot allow you to interfere with any of my master's property in +his absence." + +Monsieur Louis held out the keys. + +"Quite right!" he said. "It is an awkward situation, of course. Your +master did not tell you the reason of his sudden departure, I suppose?" + +"Not a word, sir." + +"There can be no harm in telling you this much, at any rate," Monsieur +Louis continued smoothly. "Your master, through no fault of his own, got +mixed up in a very unpleasant affair in Paris, and he will have to +appear in the courts there. I am his friend, and wish to do all that I +can to help him. We have been talking the matter over, and I have +strongly advised him to produce some papers which I think will help him +materially. The police officer in whose charge he is would not allow him +to return, so he handed me his keys and asked me to fetch them. I can +assure you that I am your master's friend, and wish to do all that I can +to help him. If he had not trusted me he would not have given me his +keys, which no doubt you recognize." + +Groves reluctantly stood on one side. + +"I suppose I must let you in, sir," he said, "but I wish that the master +had sent me a line." + +"We had neither pencil nor paper," Monsieur Louis said, "and the affair +was urgent. I must be back in Norwich by eight o'clock." + +"I will prepare the coffee, sir," Groves said, turning away. "If you +require more light the switches are behind the door." + +"Very good," Monsieur Louis said. "You need not have the slightest +anxiety. I am here on your master's behalf." + +Groves hesitated, and looked for a moment curiously around the room. He +seemed as though he had something else to say, but checked himself at +the last moment and withdrew. Monsieur Louis drew a little breath of +relief. + +He did not immediately proceed to work. He threw off his overcoat and +lit a cigarette. His fingers were steady enough, but he was conscious of +an unwonted sense of excitement. He was face to face with destiny. He +had played before for great stakes, but never such as these. A single +false step, an evil turn in the wheel of fortune, spelt death--and he +was afraid to die. He moved to the sideboard. Everything there was as +they had left it. He poured out some brandy and drank it off. + +With fresh courage he moved to the safe, which stood in the corner of +the room. It must be there, if anywhere, that this precious document +lay. He tried his keys one by one. At last he found the right one. The +great door swung slowly open. + +He was spared all anxiety. There, on the top of a pile of legal-looking +documents, leases, title-deeds, and the like, was a long envelope, and +across it in Duncombe's sprawling writing these few words:-- + + "Entrusted to me by Miss Poynton.--Sept. 4th." + +He grasped it in his fingers and tore open the envelope. As he read the +single page of closely written writing his eyes seemed almost to +protrude. He gave a little gasp. No wonder there were those who reckoned +this single page of manuscript worth a great fortune. Every sentence, +every word told its own story. It was a page of the world's history. + +Then a strange thing happened. Some part of him rebelled against the +instinct which prompted him carefully to fold and place in his +breast-pocket this wonderful find of his. His nerves seemed suddenly +frozen in his body. There was a curious numb sensation at the back of +his neck which forbade him to turn round. His hands shook, his teeth +chattered. The sweat of death was upon his forehead and despair in his +heart. He had heard nothing, seen nothing; yet he knew that he was no +longer alone. + +When at last he turned round he turned his whole body. The muscles of +his neck were numbed still his knees shook, and his face was ghastly. +Monsieur Louis of the Café Montmartre, brave of tongue and gallant of +bearing, had suddenly collapsed. Monsieur Louis, the drug-sodden +degenerate of a family whose nobles had made gay the scaffolds of the +Place de la République, cowered in his place. + +It was the worst upon which he looked with chattering teeth, but without +surprise. The door of the inner room was open, and upon the threshold +stood Toquet, small, dark, and saturnine--Toquet, with something which +glittered in his hand, so that Monsieur Louis, already the prey of a +diseased and ghastly imagination, felt the pain of the bullet in his +heart. On an easy-chair by the fireside Henri de Bergillac was lounging, +with a queer smile upon his lips. + +"My friend," he said quietly, though the scorn which underlay his words +seemed to bite the air, "you have solved for us a double problem: first, +how to account for the absence of our host; and secondly, how to open +that very formidable-looking safe. You will be so good as to place upon +the table that document which you hold in your hands." + +For a single second Monsieur Louis hesitated. Some lingering vestige of +a courage, purely hereditary, showed him in one lightning-like flash how +at least he might carry with him to a swift grave some vestige of his +ruined self-respect. A traitor to his old friends, he might keep faith +with the new. He had time to destroy. Even the agonies of death might +last long enough to complete the task. But the impulse was only +momentary. He shuddered afresh at the thought that he might have yielded +to it. He threw it upon the table. + +The Vicomte rose to his feet, glanced through the closely written page +with something of the same excitement which had inspired its recent +possessor, and carefully buttoned it up in his breast-pocket. Then he +turned once more to the man who stood before them broken and trembling. + +"Louis," he said, "you are the first traitor whom our society has +hatched. I look upon you with curiosity as a thing I once called my +friend. What imbecility prompted you to this?" + +Monsieur Louis found nerve to shrug his shoulders. + +"A million francs!" he answered. + +"Heavens, but what folly!" the Vicomte murmured. "Did we not all know +that a German was in Paris who offered a million, or two million francs +for the missing page of that treaty? Do you think that he was not +watched day and night? Bah! I have no patience to talk of this. What +have you done with our host?" + +"Arrested him for--Flossie! He is in a ditch half-way to Norwich." + +"Hurt?" + +"No! Chloroformed." + +"How did you get here?" + +"In an automobile from Lynn!" + +"Good! It waits for you?" + +"Yes." + +"We will take it. My good friend here, Toquet, is familiar with the +neighborhood. As Mr. Fielding, the American millionaire, you learned the +excellence of these roads for quick travelling, did you not, _mon ami_? +So!" + +"You leave me here?" Monsieur Louis faltered. + +"Ay, to rot if you will!" the Vicomte answered with sudden harshness. + +"I will atone," Monsieur Louis faltered. "It was a single false step." + +De Bergillac looked down upon him with unspeakable contempt. + +"Atone! Listen, Louis! In this country you are safe. Crawl away into +some hiding-place and make what you will of the rest of your days, but I +will promise you this. If ever you set your feet upon one inch of France +you shall meet with your deserts. There are many things which those who +play the great game must pardon, but there is one crime for which no +atonement is possible, and you have committed it. You are a traitor!" + +De Bergillac turned away. The effeminacy of his manner seemed to have +disappeared under the strain of his extreme anger. It was his race, +after all, which had asserted itself. And then the door was thrown +suddenly open and a wild-looking figure confronted them. + +It was Duncombe, muddy from head to foot, pale and with a slight wound +upon the temple, from which the blood had trickled down his face. He saw +the open safe, and Monsieur Louis a pitiful figure, and he did not +hesitate. He scarcely glanced at the others. He strode forward and +seized the Baron by the collar. + +"Give me back what you have stolen, you blackguard!" he exclaimed. + +Monsieur Louis was breathless. It was the young Vicomte who interposed. + +"Our friend," he remarked suavely, "has not been successful in his +little effort. The document he came to purloin is in my pocket, and +here, Sir George, is my warrant for retaining possession of it." + +He held out a note which Duncombe took and read with a little sigh of +relief. + +"Good!" he exclaimed. "You have the document?" + +De Bergillac tapped his breast-pocket. + +"It is here," he said. + +Duncombe turned to Monsieur Louis. + +"My arrest, then," he remarked, "was part of the game?" + +"Exactly!" De Bergillac answered. "This little document entrusted to +your care by the young English lady was worth one million francs to the +man who suborned our friend here. It was worth while--this little +enterprise. The pity of it is that it has failed. Sir George, I go to +Paris to-night. I offer you a safe conduct if you care to accompany me. +_L'affaire Poynton_ does not exist any more." + +"Can you give me ten minutes to change my clothes?" Duncombe asked +eagerly. + +"No more," De Bergillac answered. "I will get rid of our friend here." + +There was a knock at the door. Groves entered with coffee. At the sight +of his master he nearly dropped the tray. + +"It's all right," Duncombe said, smiling. "We had a little spill, and +I've lost my bag. Pack me some more things quickly." + +"Very good, sir," Groves answered, and withdrew precipitately. + +De Bergillac laid his hand upon Duncombe's arm. + +"There is only one thing, my friend," he said. "I trust that it is Mr. +Guy Poynton who is your friend, and not his beautiful sister? Eh? I am +answered! The misfortune! Never mind! I will drink my coffee to _les +beaux yeux des autres_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE MAKING OF HISTORY + + +Three men were the sole occupants of the great room whose windows looked +out upon the Louvre. + +The table around which they were seated was strewn with papers and maps. +The door of the room was locked, and a sentry stood outside in the +passage. The three men were busy making history. + +The man who occupied the seat at the head of the table was the Monsieur +Grisson to whom Guy Poynton, at the instigation of the Duc de Bergillac, +had told his story. It was he who was spokesman. + +"The situation," he said, "is one which bristles with difficulties. We +will assume for a moment the truth of what we have certainly reasonable +ground to believe. Russia has shown every sign of disappointment with us +for our general attitude during the war. Our understanding with England +has provoked a vigorous though unofficial protest from her +representatives here. Since then our relations have become to a certain +extent strained. Germany, ever on the look-out for complications which +might lead to her own advantage, steps in. Her attitude towards Russia +is changed to one of open and profound sympathy. Russia, in her +desperate straits, rises like a starving fish to a fat fly. Here it is +that our secret service steps in." + +"Our secret service--and her allies," one of the other men murmured. + +"Exactly! We pass now to the consideration of facts which need one thing +only to justify our course of action. Evidence is brought to us that a +secret meeting took place between the Czar of Russia and the Emperor of +Germany. From all the information which we have collected that meeting +was possible. I personally believe that it took place. A treaty is said +to have been drawn up between them, having for its object the +embroilment of England with Russia, and an alliance of Germany with +Russia so far as regards her quarrel with England. We know that Germany +is secretly mobilizing men and ships. We know that the ambition of the +Emperor is to possess himself of the Colonies of Great Britain, if not +actually to hold his court in London. We know that his jealousy of King +Edward amounts to a disease. We know that he is a man of daring and +violent temper, with an indomitable will and an unflinching belief in +his own infallibility and the infallibility of his army and navy. We +know that he has at least a dozen schemes for a sudden attack upon +England, and mighty though the navy of Great Britain is, it is not in +our opinion strong enough to protect her shore from the combined Baltic +and German fleets and also protect her Colonies. England, through our +friendship, has been warned. She proposes with most flattering alacrity +the only possible counter-stroke--an alliance with ourselves. We must +decide within twelve hours. The treaty lies upon my desk there. Upon us +must rest the most momentous decision which any Frenchman within our +recollection has been called upon to make. What have you to say, +gentlemen?" + +There was a short silence. Then the man who sat at Monsieur Grisson's +right hand spoke. + +"The issues before us," he said slowly, "are appalling. Every +Frenchman's blood must boil at the thought of Germany greedily helping +herself to the mighty wealth and power of Great Britain--becoming by +this single master-stroke the strongest nation on earth, able to dictate +even to us, and to send her word unchallenged throughout the world. It +is a hideous picture! It must mean the abandonment forever of the hope +of every true Frenchman. Every minute will become a menace to us. +Wilhelm, the arrogant, with British gold and British ships at his back, +will never forget to flaunt himself before us to our eternal +humiliation." + +"You are taking it for granted," his neighbor remarked, "that Germany +will be successful." + +"The odds are in her favor," was the quiet reply. "The navy of Great +Britain is immense, but her sea front, so to speak, is enormous. She is +open to be the prey of a sudden swift attack, and the moment has never +been more favorable." + +"Let all these things be granted," the third man said. "Even then, are +we free to enter into this alliance with England? Our treaty with Russia +remains. We have no proof that she has broken faith with us. If this +secret treaty between Russia and Germany really exists, it is, of +course, another matter. But does it? We have nothing but the word of an +English boy. The rest is all assumption. The whole affair might be a +nightmare. We might sign this treaty with England, and find afterwards +that we had been the victim of a trick. We should be perjured before the +face of all Europe, and our great financial interest in Russia would at +once be placed in a perilous position." + +A telephone upon the table rang softly. Monsieur Grisson held the +receiver to his ear and listened. Then he rose to his feet. + +"Count von Munchen desires a word with me," he announced. "He pledges +himself not to keep me more than five minutes. I had better receive him. +Excuse me, gentlemen." + +The two men were left alone. The elder and stouter of the two busied +himself with an inch rule and an atlas. He seemed to be making +calculations as to the distance between Cherbourg and a certain spot in +the North Sea. + +"What is the chief's own mind?" his companion asked. "Does any one +know?" + +The other shook his head. + +"Who can say? Our ties of friendship with England are too recent to make +this a matter of sentiment. I believe that without proof he fears to +accept this statement. And yet above all things he fears Germany. There +was some talk of a missing page of the actual treaty between Russia and +Germany. If this could be found I believe that he would sign the draft +treaty." + +"I myself," the other said, "do not believe that England would be so +easily overpowered." + +"It is the suddenness and treachery of the attack which counts so +greatly in its favor," his companion said. "It might be all over in two +days before she could assemble a fifth part of her forces. If our +information is correct Germany has men enough mobilized to run huge +risks. Besides, you know how Lafarge's report ran, and what he said. The +German army is beginning to suffer from a sort of dry rot, as must all +institutions which fulfil a different purpose than that for which they +exist. The Emperor knows it. If war does not come Germany will have to +face severe military troubles." + +"I myself am for the alliance!" + +"And I," the other replied, "if proof of this Germano-Russian +understanding could be produced." + +Monsieur Grisson returned. He carefully closed and locked the door +behind him. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "the German Ambassador has just left me. His +mission in every way confirms our secret information. He has been +instructed to inquire as to our attitude in the event of any British +interference with the Baltic Fleet while in home waters." + +The two men looked up expectantly. Monsieur Grisson continued:-- + +"I replied that it was a contingency which we scarcely thought it worth +while to consider. I expressed my firm belief that England would observe +all the conventions, written and understood, of international law." + +"And he?" + +"He was not satisfied, of course. He declared that he had certain +information that England was making definite plans with a view to ensure +the delay of the fleet. He went on to say that Germany was determined +not to tolerate any such thing, and he concludes that we, as Russia's +ally, would at any rate remain neutral should Germany think it her duty +to interfere." + +"And your reply?" + +"I answered that in the event of untoward happenings France would act as +her honor dictated--remaining always mindful of the obligations of her +alliance. He was quite satisfied." + +"He had no suspicion of this?" the young man asked, touching the treaty +with his forefinger. + +"None. It is believed in Germany that the young Englishman was really +found drowned in the Seine after a short career of dissipation. Our +friends served us well here. Now, gentlemen, the English Ambassador will +be here in twenty minutes. What am I to say to him? Do we sign this +draft agreement or do we not?" + +There was a silence which lasted nearly a minute. Then the younger of +the two men spoke. + +"Sir," he said respectfully, "without some proof of Russia's falsity I +cannot see how in honor we can depart from our treaty obligations with +her to the extent of signing an agreement with her putative enemy. +England must fight her own battle, and God help her!" + +"And you?" Monsieur Grisson asked, turning to the third man. + +"I agree," was the regretful answer. "If this treacherous scheme is +carried out I believe that France will be face to face with the greatest +crisis she has known in history. Even then I dare not suggest that we +court dishonor by breaking an alliance with a friend in distress." + +"You are right, gentlemen," Monsieur Grisson said with a sigh. "We must +tell Lord Fothergill that our relations with his country must remain +unfettered. I----" + +Again the telephone bell rang. Monsieur Grisson listened, and replied +with a sudden return to his old briskness of manner. + +"It is young De Bergillac," he announced. "He has been in England in +search of that missing page of the treaty. I have told them to show him +in." + +The Vicomte entered, paler than ever from recent travel, and deeply +humiliated from the fact that there was a smut upon his collar which he +had had no time to remove. He presented a paper to Monsieur Grisson and +bowed. The President spread it out upon the table, and the faces of the +three men as they read became a study. Monsieur Grisson rang the bell. + +"Monsieur le Duc de Bergillac and a young English gentleman," he told +the attendant, "are in my private retiring-room. Desire their presence." + +The servant withdrew. The three men looked at one another. + +"If this is genuine!" the younger murmured. + +"It is the Russian official paper," his _vis-à-vis_ declared, holding it +up to the light. + +Then the Duc de Bergillac and Guy Poynton were ushered in. Monsieur +Grisson rose to his feet. + +"Monsieur Poynton," he said, "we have all three heard your story as to +what you witnessed in the forest of Pozen. It is part of your allegation +that a page of writing from the private car which you were watching was +blown to your feet, and that you picked it up and brought it to Paris +with you. Look at this sheet of paper carefully. Tell me if it is the +one." + +Guy glanced at it for a moment, and handed it back. + +"It is certainly the one," he answered. "If you look at the back you +will see my initials there and the date." + +Monsieur Grisson turned it over quickly. The two other men looked over +his shoulder, and one of them gave a little exclamation. The initials +and date were there. + +Then Monsieur Grisson turned once more to Guy. He was not a tall man, +but he had dignity, and his presence was impressive. He spoke very +slowly. + +"Monsieur Guy Poynton," he said, "it is not often that so great an +issue--that the very destinies of two great countries must rest upon the +simple and uncorroborated story of one man. Yet that is the position in +which we stand to-day. Do not think that you are being treated with +distrust. I speak to you not on behalf of myself, but for the millions +of human beings whose welfare is my care, and for those other millions +of your own countrymen, whose interests must be yours. I ask you +solemnly--is this story of yours word for word a true one?" + +Guy looked him in the face resolutely, and answered without hesitation. + +"On my honor as an Englishman," he declared, "it is true!" + +Monsieur Grisson held out his hand. + +"Thank you!" he said. + +The three men were again alone. The man who controlled the destinies of +France dipped his pen in the ink. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "do you agree with me that I shall sign this +draft?" + +"We do!" they both answered. + +The President signed his name. Then he turned the handle of the +telephone. + +"You may show Lord Fothergill in!" he ordered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AN OLD FRIEND + + +It was perhaps as well for Andrew Pelham that he could not see Phyllis' +look as she entered the room. An English gentleman, she had been told, +was waiting to see her, and she had thought of no one but Duncombe. It +was true that she had sent him away, but only an hour ago the Marquise +had told her that her emancipation was close at hand. He too might have +had a hint! The little smile, however, died away from her lips as she +saw who was waiting for her with such manifest impatience. + +"You, Andrew!" she exclaimed in amazement. "Why, however did you find me +out?" + +He took both her hands in his. The look upon his face was transfiguring. + +"At last! At last!" he exclaimed. "Never mind how I found you! Tell me, +what does it all mean? Are you here of your own free will?" + +"Absolutely!" she answered. + +"It was you at Runton?" + +"Yes." + +"Under a false name--with a man who committed robbery!" + +She shrugged her shoulders a little wearily. + +"My dear Andrew!" she said, "I will admit that I have been doing all +manner of incomprehensible things. I couldn't explain everything. It +would take too long. What I did, I did for Guy's sake, and of my own +free will. It will be all over in a day or two now, and we shall be +coming back to Raynesworth. Then I will tell you tales of our adventures +which will make your hair stand on end." + +"It isn't true about Guy, then?" he exclaimed. + +She hesitated for a moment. + +"Andrew," she said, "I cannot tell you anything. It must sound rather +horrid of me, but I cannot help it. I want you to go away. In a day or +two I will write." + +He looked at her in pained bewilderment. + +"But, Phyllis," he protested, "I am one of your oldest friends! You ask +me to go away and leave you here with strangers, without a word of +explanation. Why, I have been weeks searching for you." + +"Andrew," she said, "I know it. I don't want to be unkind. I don't want +you to think that I have forgotten that you are, as you say, one of my +oldest friends. But there are times when one's friends are a source of +danger rather than pleasure. Frankly, this is one of them." + +His face darkened. He looked slowly around the magnificent room. He saw +little, but what he could distinguish was impressive. + +"Your riddles," he said gravely, "are hard to read. You want me to go +away and leave you here." + +"You must," she said firmly. + +"Did you treat Duncombe like this?" he asked in a blind fit of jealousy. + +"You have not the right to ask me such a question," she answered +coldly. + +"Not the right! Not the right!" he repeated. "Who else has, then? +Haven't I watched you grow from a beautiful, capricious child into the +woman you are? Haven't I taught you, played with you, done your bidding +blindly ever since you came into your kingdom? Haven't I felt the pain +and the joy of you in my heart? Who else has a better right, then? +Duncombe, who came here, a stranger to you--or is it one of your new +friends?" + +She came close to him, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. + +"Don't be foolish, Andrew!" she said softly. + +His whole expression changed. The bitterness left his tone. + +"Ah, Phyllis!" he said. "That is more like yourself." + +"And I want you," she said, "to be like your old self. You have always +been my best friend, Andrew. I hope you will always be that." + +He tried to look into her face. It seemed to him that there was a little +unnecessary emphasis in her words. + +"I am not a child now, you know," she continued. "I am quite old enough +to take care of myself. You must believe that, Andrew. You must go away, +and not worry about me. You will do this, please, because I ask you!" + +"If I must," he said reluctantly. "I will go away, but not to worry +about you--that is impossible. You seem to be surrounded by all the +mediæval terrors which confronted the emancipation of princesses in our +fairy books. Only a short time ago Duncombe implored me to follow his +example, and leave you and Paris alone. The detective whom I brought +with me has been shadowed ever since we left Paris. Last night he left +me for a few hours, and this morning comes a note from the hospital. He +is lying there with the back of his head beaten in--garotters, of +course, the police say, looking for plunder. How can you ask me to be +easy in my mind about you?" + +She smiled reassuringly. + +"No harm will come to me here, I can promise you," she said. "It is you +who run the most risk if you only knew it. Sir George Duncombe gave you +the best advice when he tried to get you to return to England." + +"I cannot leave Lloyd now until he has recovered," Andrew answered. +"Tell me, Phyllis, has Duncombe found you out? Has he been here?" + +"Yes," she answered. "I sent him away--as I am sending you." + +"Has he ever told you," Andrew asked, "why he was willing in the first +instance to come to Paris in search of you?" + +"No," she answered. "Wasn't it because he was your friend?" + +He shook his head. + +"It is his affair, not mine," he said with a sigh. "Ask him some day." + +"You won't tell me, Andrew?" + +"No! I will go now! You know where to send for me if you should need +help. I can find my way down, thank you. I have a guide from the hotel +outside." + +The Marquise swept into the room as he passed out, an impression of +ermine and laces and perfume. + +"Another of your English lovers, _ma belle_?" she asked. + +"Scarcely that," Phyllis answered. "He is a very old friend, and he was +rather hard to get rid of." + +"I think," the Marquise said, "you would get rid of all very willingly +for the sake of one, eh?" + +The Marquise stared insolently into the girl's face. Phyllis only +laughed. + +"One is usually considered the ideal number--in our country," she +remarked demurely. + +"But the one?" the Marquise continued. "He would not be one of these +cold, heavy countrymen of yours, no? You have learnt better perhaps over +here?" + +It was a cross-examination, but Phyllis could not imagine its drift. + +"I have not had very much opportunity over here, have I, to amend my +ideals?" she asked. "I think the only two Frenchmen I have met are the +Marquis and that languid young man with the green tie, the Vicomte de +Bergillac, wasn't it?" + +The Marquise watched her charge closely. + +"Well," she said, "he is _comme il faut_, is he not? You find him more +elegant, more chic than your Englishmen, eh?" + +Phyllis shook her head regretfully. + +"To me," she admitted, "he seemed like an exceedingly precocious spoilt +child!" + +"He is twenty-three," the Marquise declared. + +Phyllis laughed softly. + +"Well," she said, "I do not think that I shall amend my ideals for the +sake of the Vicomte de Bergillac!" + +The Marquise looked at her doubtfully. + +"Tell me, child," she said, "you mean, then, that of the two--your +English Sir George Duncombe and Henri--you would prefer Sir George?" + +Phyllis looked at her with twinkling eyes. + +"You would really like to know?" she asked. + +"Yes!" + +"Sir George Duncombe--infinitely!" + +The Marquise seemed to have recovered her good spirits. + +"Come, little one," she said, "you lose color in the house. I will take +you for a drive!" + + * * * * * + +Andrew, conscious that he was being followed, sat down outside a café on +his way homewards, and bade his guide leave him for a little time. +Instantly there was the soft rustle of feminine skirts by his side, and +a woman seated herself on the next chair. + +"Monsieur has not been up to the Café Montmartre lately!" + +Pelham turned his head. It was the young lady from Vienna. + +"No!" he answered. "I have not been there since I had the pleasure of +seeing Mademoiselle!" + +"Monsieur has discovered all that he wanted to know?" + +He nodded a little wearily. + +"Yes, I think so!" + +She drew her chair quite close to his. The sable of her turban hat +almost brushed his cheek, and the perfume of the violets at her bosom +was strong in his nostrils. + +"Monsieur has seen the young lady?" + +"I have seen her," he answered. + +"Monsieur is indebted to me," she said softly, "for some information. +Let me ask him one question. Is it true, this story in the newspapers, +of the finding of this young man's body? Is Monsieur Guy Poynton really +dead?" + +"I know no more than we all read in the newspapers," he answered. + +"His sister spoke of him as dead?" she asked. + +"I cannot discuss this matter with you, Mademoiselle," he answered. + +"Monsieur is ungrateful," she declared with a little grimace. "It is +only that which I desire to know. He was such a _beau garçon_, that +young Englishman. You will tell me that?" she whispered. + +He shook his head. + +"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he said. "I am going to take a carriage +to my hotel!" + +"It is on the way to leave me at my rooms, if you will be so kind," she +suggested, laying her hand upon his arm. + +"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he answered, turning away. "Good +afternoon." + +Mademoiselle also took a carriage, and drove to a large house at the top +of the Champs Élysées. She was at once admitted, and passed with the air +of one familiar with the place into a small room at the back of the +house, where a man was sitting at a table writing. He looked up as she +entered. + +"Well?" + +She threw herself into a chair. + +"I have been following the Englishman, Pelham, all day," she said in +German. "He has seen Miss Poynton. I have talked with him since at a +café, but he would tell me nothing. He has evidently been warned." + +The man grumbled as he resumed his writing. + +"That fact alone should be enough for us," he remarked. "If there is +anything to conceal we can guess what it is. These amateurs who are in +league with the secret service are the devil! I would as soon resign. +What with them and the regular secret service, Paris is an impossible +city for us. Where we would watch we are watched ourselves. The streets +and cafés bristle with spies! I do not wonder that you find success so +difficult, Mademoiselle!" + +"I haven't done so badly!" she protested. + +"No, for you have not been set easy tasks. Can you tell me, though, +where that young Englishman disappeared to when he left the Café +Montmartre before your very eyes? Can you tell me whether the secret +service got hold of his story, how much the French Government believed +of it, whether they have communicated with the English Government, and +how much they know? Beyond these things, it is not your province to see, +or mine, Mademoiselle, and it is not for us to guess at or inquire into +the meaning of things. Tell me, is it worth while to have this man +Pelham put out of the way for a time?" + +She shook her head. + +"I do not think so," she answered. "He is quite stupid. The other, Sir +George Duncombe, he was different. If he had stayed in Paris he would +have been worth watching." + +A bell rang. The man rose. + +"The chief!" he said. "Be at the café to-night." + +Mademoiselle went away thoughtfully. + +"It is over this affair," she said to herself. "Carl knows everything!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A NEWSPAPER SENSATION + + +Spencer, whose recovery during the last few days had been as rapid as +the first development of his indisposition, had just changed for dinner, +and was lighting a _cigarette d'appertit_ when, without waiting to be +announced, the Vicomte de Bergillac entered the room. Spencer, with +lightning-like intuition, knew that his time was come. + +"Off with your coat, man, and get your code books out. I am going to +give you the most sensational story which has ever appeared in your +paper!" he exclaimed. "Only, remember this! It must appear to-morrow +morning. I am arranging for the French papers to have it. Yours shall be +the only English journal. Glance through these sheets. They contain the +story of _l'affaire Poynton_!" + +Spencer was master of the gist of the thing in a very few moments. His +eyes were bright with excitement. + +"Who guarantees this?" he asked quickly. + +"My uncle has signed it," Henri de Bergillac answered, "and at the +bottom of the page there you will see a still more distinguished +signature. You understand _l'affaire Poynton_ now? It is very simple. +That English boy actually witnessed a meeting between the Czar and the +Emperor, and turns up in Paris with a loose sheet of a treaty between +the two, relative to an attack upon England. Our people got hold of him +at the Café Montmartre, and we have hidden him away ever since. Our +friends, the Germans, who seem to have had some suspicions about him, +have filled the city with spies, but from the first we have kept them +off the scent. We had a little difficulty in convincing our friends your +country-people, but we managed to borrow a few papers from the German +Ambassador whilst he was staying at a country-house in England, which +were sufficient." + +Spencer was already writing. His coat lay on the floor where he had +thrown it. + +"Don't go for a moment, De Bergillac," he said. "I want to ask you a few +things. I can talk and code at the same time. What about Miss Poynton?" + +"Well, we had to take care of her too," De Bergillac said. "Of course +all her inquiries over here would have led to nothing, but they knew her +at the English Embassy, so we walked her off from the Café Montmartre +one night and took her to a friend of mine, the Marquise de St. Ethol. +We told her a little of the truth, and a little, I'm afraid, which was +an exaggeration. Anyhow, we kept her quiet, and we got her to go to +England for us with Toquet. They had a very narrow shave down at Runton, +by the by." + +"After this," Spencer said with a smile, "the secret service people +proper will have to look to their laurels. It is a triumph for the +amateurs." + +The Vicomte twirled his tiny black moustache. + +"Yes," he said, "we have justified ourselves. It has cost us something, +though!" + +"You mean?" + +"Louis!" + +Spencer stopped writing. + +"It was an affair of a million francs," the Vicomte said. "I hope he has +got the money." + +Spencer resumed his work. + +"The Baron a traitor!" he exclaimed. "Where is he?" + +"In England! We are not vindictive. If the Germans paid him a million +francs they got nothing for it. He has been watched from the first. We +knew of it the moment he came to terms with them. He only knows bare +facts. Nothing beyond. He is going to Brazil, I think. We shall not +interfere." + +"Tell me why," Spencer said, "you were so down on all of us who joined +in the search for the Poyntons." + +"We could not afford to run any risks of your discovering a clue," De +Bergillac answered, "because you in your turn were closely watched by +German spies, hoping to discover them through you. That is why we had to +strike hard at all of you who interfered. I was sorry for little +Flossie--but she knew the risk she ran. We had to stop you, induce +Duncombe to leave Paris, and knock on the head a fool of an English +detective for fear he might discover something. Monsieur Pelham was +getting into danger, but, of course, it is all over now. To-morrow we +are bringing Guy into Paris." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Where is Duncombe?" he asked. + +"Back in Paris," De Bergillac answered. "Arrived here with me to-day. He +is much in love with the beautiful sister. Alas! It was to him that she +entrusted the missing page of that treaty which she found in her +brother's luggage. Some day I must tell you of my adventures in England +last night, when I went over to get it and found Louis a little ahead of +me." + +"Some day," Spencer murmured, writing for dear life, with the +perspiration streaming down his forehead. "My dear Vicomte, do you mind +ringing the bell? I want my servant. I must telegraph my paper to warn +them of this. They must clear two columns of type for me." + +The Vicomte did as he was asked. Then he turned towards the door. + +"I will leave you," he said. "The dust of England is still in my throat. +Absinthe, a bath and dinner! _Au revoir, mon ami!_ Confess that I have +kept the promise which Louis made you. It is what you call a _coup_ +this, eh?" + +Out on the boulevards the papers were selling like wildfire. The Vicomte +bought one, and sitting down outside a café ordered absinthe. The great +headlines attracted him at once. He sipped his absinthe and smiled to +himself. + +"The play commences!" he murmured. "I must return to Monsieur Spencer." + +Spencer was still working like a madman. + +"I must interrupt you for a moment," De Bergillac said. "I have brought +you an evening paper. The Baltic Fleet has sunk half a dozen English +fishing-boats and the whole country is in a frenzy. It is the +beginning." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Leave the paper, there's a good fellow," he said. "I will look it +through presently. If there is time--if there is only time this will be +the greatest night of my life. No other paper has a hint, you say?" + +"Not one!" + +"If I could put back the clock a single hour," Spencer muttered. "Never +mind! Williams, more sheets!" + +De Bergillac took his leave. He had telephoned for his motor, which was +waiting outside. He gave the order to drive to his rooms. On the way he +passed the great pile of buildings in the Louvre. In a room at the +extreme end of the pile a light was burning. De Bergillac looked at it +curiously. A small brougham, which he recognized, stood outside. + +"If one could see inside," he muttered. "It should be interesting!" + + * * * * * + +In a sense it was interesting. Monsieur Grisson sat there in front of +his open table. His secretary's place by his side was vacant. Opposite +sat a tall man with gray hair and dark moustache. He was dressed for the +evening, and his breast glittered with stars and orders. + +"It is exceedingly kind of you, Monsieur," he said, "to grant me this +interview at so short notice. I was most anxious to apprise you of news, +which as yet I believe has not found its way into your papers. You have +read accounts of a Russian attack upon an English fishing-fleet, but you +have not yet been informed of the presence--the undoubted presence--of +Japanese torpedo-boats concealed amongst them." + +Monsieur Grisson raised his eyebrows. + +"Indeed no!" he answered. "We have not even heard a rumor of anything of +the sort." + +"Nevertheless, their presence was indubitable," the Prince declared. "In +those circumstances, Monsieur, you can doubtless understand that our +reply to any protests on the part of England will be of an unpacific +nature. We should not for a moment allow ourselves to be dictated to by +the allies of our enemy." + +"Naturally!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "On the other hand, you surely +do not wish to embroil yourself in a quarrel with England at the present +moment?" + +"We wish to quarrel with no one," the Prince answered haughtily. "At the +same time, we are not afraid of England. We recognize the fact that if +war should come it is an independent affair, and does not come under the +obligations of our alliance. We ask, therefore, for your neutrality +alone." + +Monsieur Grisson bowed. + +"But, Prince," he said gravely, "you speak lightly enough of the +possibilities of war, but surely you must know that the English fleet in +the Channel and at Gibraltar altogether outmatches the Baltic Fleet?" + +"A Russian," the Prince answered grandly, "is not afraid of great odds!" + +Monsieur Grisson bowed. + +"For the sake of humanity," he said, "I trust most sincerely that the +affair may be peaceably arranged. If the contrary should turn out to be +the case, I can only say that in a quarrel which concerns Russia and +England alone, France would remain benevolently neutral. As you have +remarked, the obligations of our treaty do not apply to such a case." + +The Prince played nervously with the star at his chest. Both men were +well aware that up to now they had been merely playing with words. + +"There is another contingency," the Russian remarked, "which, now we are +upon the subject, it would perhaps be as well to allude to. The +relations between Germany and England, as you know, just now are very +sorely strained. If Germany should take advantage of the present +situation to make a demonstration against England, that, of course, +would not, from your point of view, affect the situation?" + +Monsieur Grisson looked like a man who sees before him amazing things. + +"My dear Prince," he said, "do not let us misunderstand one another. You +cannot by any possibility be suggesting that Germany might associate +herself with you in your resistance to possible English demands?" + +The Russian leaned back in his chair. + +"Germany is on the spot," he remarked, "and knows the fact of the case. +She has proofs of the presence of Japanese torpedo-boats amongst the +English fishing-fleet. Her natural love of fair play might possibly lead +her to espouse our cause in this particular instance. This, of course, +would make for peace. If Germany commands, England will obey. She could +not do otherwise." + +"You have introduced, my dear Prince," Monsieur Grisson said, "an +altogether new phase of this question, and one which merits the most +grave consideration. Am I to understand that there is any arrangement +between Germany and yourself with respect to this question?" + +"Scarcely anything so definite as an arrangement," the Prince answered. +"Merely an understanding!" + +Monsieur Grisson had the air of a man who had just received grave +tidings of his dearest friend. + +"Is this, Monsieur le Prince," he said, "entirely in accord with our own +treaty obligations?" + +"We do not consider it to be in contravention to them," the Prince +answered. + +The gravity of Monsieur Grisson's manner grew even more pronounced. + +"My dear Prince," he said, "you are doubtless aware that during the last +few weeks there have been some very strange rumors about as to a meeting +between your master and the Emperor of Germany, and an agreement which +was forthwith signed between them. I need not remark that all such +rumors were entirely discredited here. Such a meeting kept secret from +us would of course be very seriously considered here." + +The Prince smiled. He remained admirably self-possessed, though the very +veins in his forehead were swollen with anger. + +"A canard of the sort has reached my ears," he remarked. "Some English +boy, I believe, imagined or dreamed that he saw some such meeting. We +scarcely need, I think, to discuss this seriously." + +"Personally I agree with you," Monsieur Grisson said smoothly. "My +ministry, however, seem to have been a little impressed by the boy's +story. An autograph letter from the Czar, denying it, would perhaps make +our negotiations more easy." + +"It shall be forthcoming," the Prince remarked, rising. "By the by, I +hear reports of great activity from Cherbourg. More manoeuvres, eh?" + +Monsieur Grisson shrugged his shoulders. + +"Our new naval chief," he remarked, "is a marvel of industry. You know +the English proverb about the new broom, eh?" + +The Prince bowed. + +"During the next few hours," he remarked, "many things may happen. You +will be always accessible?" + +"I shall not leave my post, Prince!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "You +will find me here at any time!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY + + +On the following morning the inhabitants of London, Paris, Berlin, and +St. Petersburg for a sum varying from a halfpenny to a penny were +treated to sensationalism as thrilling as any six-shilling shocker hot +from the press and assured of its half-million circulation. One English +and one French newspaper outdid their competitors by publishing side by +side with their account of the exploits of the Russian fleet a +marvellous but circumstantial story of a meeting and alliance between +the rulers of Germany and Russia. The eyes of the whole world were +turned towards Kiel, and more wonderful rumors still flashed backwards +and forwards along the wires throughout Europe. A great mobilization can +be kept secret up to a certain point, but when men and ships are +collected and ready the truth must out. + +At an unusually early hour Monsieur Grisson, supported now by two +members of his ministry, received a visit from the Russian and German +Ambassadors, Prince Korndoff and Count von Munchen. The usual +compliments were quickly exchanged. + +"I have asked my friend Count von Munchen to accompany me," Prince +Korndoff explained, "because we are here to speak with you on a matter +concerning which our interests are identical. You have read the demands +which England has dared to lay before my master with reference to the +encounter in the North Sea." + +Monsieur Grisson bowed. + +"I have studied them with great interest," he admitted. + +"I do not need tell you then that they are scouted with indignation by +my master and his advisers," the Prince answered. "Neither shall we +permit for a single moment the detention of our fleet upon its mission." + +"That means, then, war with England," Monsieur Grisson remarked quietly. + +"Unless they instantly withdraw their insolent demands--undoubtedly," +the Prince answered. + +Monsieur Grisson turned to the German. + +"And you, Count," he asked, "how does this concern you?" + +"We also," the Count answered, "consider the demands of England +unwarrantable. We believe that there were undoubtedly Japanese torpedo +boats concealed amongst the English fishing fleet, and we consider that +the action of the Admiral in command of the Russian fleet was fully +justified." + +"You are prepared, then, to give Russia your moral support?" the +President asked. + +"We are prepared to do more," the Count answered boldly. "If England +persists in her demands we are prepared to demonstrate against her." + +Monsieur Grisson assumed a very grave expression. + +"I too," he said, "have lost no time in endeavoring to solve the mystery +of this North Sea incident. I have been in communication with the +English Ambassador, and I have collected all the evidence possible. +There is absolutely no proof obtainable of the presence of any Japanese +craft amongst the English fishing fleet. I submit, therefore, that this +is a case for arbitration. I consider that up to the present our friends +on the other side of the Channel have displayed commendable moderation +in a time of great excitement, and I am happy to say that I have the +authority of Lord Fothergill himself for saying that they will consent +to submitting the affair to a commission of arbitration." + +The President's words were received with chilling silence. It was the +Prince, who, after a short silence, replied. + +"Arbitration," he said coldly, "does not commend itself to us. We have +been insulted. Our country and our gallant fleet have been held up to +ridicule throughout the whole English Press. We are tired of being +dictated to and bullied by a weaker Power--the openly declared ally of +our enemy. England has long been seeking for a _casus belli_ with us. At +last she has found it." + +Monsieur Grisson whispered for a moment to one of his colleagues. Then +he turned once more to the Prince. + +"Let us understand one another, Monsieur le Prince!" he said, "and you, +Count von Munchen! You have come to announce to me your intention to +jointly make war upon England. St. Petersburg is to refuse her demands, +England will naturally strike at the Baltic Fleet, and Germany will send +her fleet to the rescue, and at the same time land troops somewhere in +the North of England. Russia, I presume, will withdraw her troops from +Manchuria and strike at India!" + +"No, no!" Count von Munchen protested. "I can assure you, Monsieur, it +is not our intention to land a single German soldier in England. We are +interested only to see fair play to Russia. We require that the Baltic +Fleet shall be allowed to go on its way without molestation." + +The President faced the last speaker. His gray bushy eyebrows met in a +frown. + +"Then what, Count," he asked, "is the meaning of the mobilization of two +hundred thousand men at Kiel? What is the meaning of your State +railroads running west being closed last night to all public traffic? +Why have you cabled huge orders for Government supplies? Why were you +running trains all last night to the coast? Do you suppose that our +secret service slumbers--that we are a nation of babies?" + +The Count made an effort to retain his composure. + +"Monsieur le Président," he said, "the reports which have reached you +have been much exaggerated. It is necessary for us to back up our +protests to England by a show of force!" + +Monsieur Grisson smiled. + +"Enough of this, gentlemen!" he said. "We will now talk to one another +as men who have weighty affairs to deal with simply and directly. The +story of the meeting between your two rulers which you, Prince Korndoff, +have alluded to as a fairy tale, was a perfectly true one. I have known +of that meeting some time, and I have certain proof of what transpired +at it. The North Sea incident was no chance affair. It was a +deliberately and skilfully arranged _casus belli_, although your +admiral, Prince Korndoff, had to go one hundred miles out of his way to +find the Dogger Bank fishing-fleet. You spoke to me last night of +Cherbourg, Prince. I think that after all your secret service is +scarcely so successful as mine, for I can assure you that you will find +there all that is to be found to-day at Kiel." + +The Prince was amazed. + +"But, Monsieur le Président," he exclaimed, "you cannot mean--you, our +ally----" + +The President extended a forefinger. + +"It was no part of our alliance," he said sternly, "that you should make +a secret treaty with another Power and keep hidden from us no less a +scheme than the invasion of England. My Cabinet have dealt with this +matter on its own merits. I have the honor to tell you, gentlemen, that +I have concluded an alliance with England to come into effect in the +case of your carrying out your present intention. For every army corps +you succeed in landing in England I too shall land one, only, I think, +with less difficulty, and for every German ship which clears for action +in the North Sea two French ones will be prepared to meet her." + +"I think, Monsieur le Président," he said stiffly, "that this discussion +had better be postponed until after I have had an opportunity of +communicating with my Imperial master. I must confess, sir, that your +attitude is a complete surprise to me." + +"As you will, sir," the President answered. "I am perhaps more a man of +affairs than a diplomatist, and I have spoken to you with less reserve +than is altogether customary. But I shall never believe that diplomacy +which chooses the dark and tortuous ways of intrigue and +misrepresentation is best calculated to uphold and strengthen the +destinies of a great nation. I wish you good morning, gentlemen!" + + * * * * * + +For forty-eight hours the war fever raged, and the pendulum swung +backwards and forwards. The cables between Berlin and St. Petersburg +were never idle. There was a rumor, amongst those behind the scenes, of +an enormous bribe offered to France in return for her neutrality alone. +Its instantaneous and scornful refusal practically brought the crisis to +an end. The German hosts melted away, and the Baltic Fleet passed on. +St. Petersburg accepted the British demands, and a commission of +arbitration was appointed. Henri de Bergillac read out the news from the +morning paper, and yawned. + +"_C'est fini--l'affaire Poynton!_" he remarked. "You can get ready as +soon as you like, Guy. I am going to take you into Paris to your +sister!" + +Guy looked up eagerly. + +"My pardon?" he asked. + +The Vicomte made a wry face. + +"Heavens!" he exclaimed, "I forgot that there were still explanations to +make. Fill your abominable pipe, _mon ami_, and think that to-morrow or +the next day you may be in your beloved England. Think how well we have +guarded you here when a dozen men were loose in Paris who would have +killed you on sight. Remember that in the underground history of England +you will be known always as the man who saved his country. I shouldn't +wonder in the least if you weren't decorated when you get home. Think of +all these things--hard!" + +"All right!" Guy answered. "Go ahead!" + +"You never killed any one. The duel was a fake. You were--not exactly +sober. That was entirely our fault, and we had to invent some plan to +induce you to come into hiding peacefully. _Voilà tout!_ It is +forgiven?" + +Guy laughed a great laugh of relief. + +"Rather!" he exclaimed. "What an ass I must have seemed, asking that old +Johnny for a pardon." + +The Vicomte smiled. + +"The old Johnny, Guy, was the President of France. He wanted to know +afterwards what the devil you meant." + +Guy rose to his feet. + +"If you tell me anything else," he said, "I shall want to punch your +head." + +The Vicomte laughed. + +"Come," he said, "I will return you to your adorable sister!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A MERRY MEETING + + +Monsieur Albert was not often surprised, and still less often did he +show it. The party, however, who trooped cheerily into his little +restaurant at something after midnight on this particular morning, +succeeded in placing him at a disadvantage. + +First there was the Vicomte de Bergillac, one of his most important and +influential patrons for many reasons, whose presence alone was more than +sufficient guarantee for whoever might follow. Then there was the +Marquise de St. Ethol, one of the _haute noblesse_, to welcome whom was +a surpassing honor. + +And then Monsieur Guy Poynton, the young English gentleman, whose single +appearance here a few weeks back had started all the undercurrents of +political intrigue, and who for the justification of French journalism +should at that moment have been slowly dying at the Morgue. + +And with him the beautiful young English lady who had come in search of +him, and who, as she had left the place in the small hours of the +morning with Monsieur Louis, should certainly not now have reappeared as +charming and as brilliant as ever, her eyes soft with happiness, and her +laugh making music more wonderful than the violins of his little +orchestra. + +And following her the broad-shouldered young Englishman, Sir George +Duncombe, who had once entertained a very dangerous little party in his +private room upstairs, and against whom the dictum had gone forth. + +And following him the Englishman with the heavy glasses, whom _l'affaire +Poynton_ had also brought before to his café, and with whom Mademoiselle +from Austria had talked long and earnestly. + +And lastly Monsieur Spencer, the English journalist, also with a black +cross after his name, but seemingly altogether unconscious of it. + +Monsieur Albert was not altogether at his best. Such a mixture of sheep +and goats confused him. It was the Vicomte who, together with the head +waiter, arranged a redistribution of tables so that the whole party +could sit together. It was the Vicomte who constituted himself host. He +summoned Monsieur Albert to him. + +"Albert," he said, with a little wave of the hand, "these ladies and +gentlemen are my friends. To quote the words of my charming young +companion here, Monsieur Guy Poynton, whom you may possibly +remember"--Monsieur Albert bowed--"we are on the bust! I do not know the +precise significance of the phrase any more than I suppose you do, but +it means amongst other things a desire for the best you have to eat and +to drink. Bring Pomeroy '92, Albert, and send word to your chef that we +desire to eat without being hungry!" + +Monsieur Albert hurried away, glad of the opportunity to escape. Guy +leaned back in his chair and looked around with interest. + +"Same old place," he remarked, "and by Jove, there's the young lady from +Austria." + +The young lady from Austria paid her bill and departed somewhat hastily. +The Vicomte smiled. + +"I think we shall frighten a few of them away to-night!" he remarked. +"The wine! Good! We shall need magnums to drown our regrets, if indeed +our English friends desert us to-morrow. Monsieur Guy Poynton, +unconscious maker of history and savior of your country, I congratulate +you upon your whole skin, and I drink your health." + +Guy drank, and, laughing, refilled his glass. + +"And to you, the best of amateur conspirators and most charming of +hosts," he said. "Come soon to England and bring your automobile, and we +will conspire against you with a policeman and a stopwatch." + +The Vicomte sighed and glanced towards Phyllis. + +"In happier circumstances!" he murmured, and then catching the +Marquise's eye, he was silent. + +The band played English music, and the chef sent them up a wonderful +omelette. Mademoiselle Ermine, from the Folies Bergères, danced in the +small space between the tables, and the Vicomte, buying a cluster of +pink roses from the flower-girl, sent them across to her with a diamond +pin in the ribbon. The Marquise rebuked him half seriously, but he only +laughed. + +"To-night," he said, "is the end of a great adventure. We amateurs have +justified our existence. To-night I give away all that I choose. Ah, +Angèle!" he murmured, in her dainty little ear, "if I had but a heart to +give!" + +She flashed a quick smile into his face, but her forehead was wrinkled. + +"You have lost it to the young English miss. She is beautiful, but so +cold!" + +"Do you think so?" he whispered. "Look!" + +Phyllis was seated next Duncombe, and he too was whispering something in +her ear. The look with which she answered him, told all that there was +to know. The Marquise, who had intercepted it, shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is not worth while, my friend, that you break your heart," she +murmured, "for that one can see is an affair arranged." + +He nodded. + +"After all," he said, "the true Frenchman loves only in his own +country." + +"Or in any other where he may chance to be," she answered drily. "Never +mind, Henri! I shall not let you wander very far. Your supper-party has +been delightful--but you see the time!" + +They trooped down the narrow stairs laughing and talking. Duncombe and +Phyllis came last, and their hands met for an instant behind the burly +commissionaire. + +"Until to-morrow!" + +"Until to-morrow," she echoed softly, as he handed her into the electric +_coupé_. + +Andrew and he drove down the hill together. Duncombe was a little ill at +ease. + +"There is one thing, Andrew," he said, "which I should like to say to +you. I want you to remember the night in your garden, when you asked me +to come to Paris for you." + +"Yes?" + +"I warned you, didn't I? I knew that it would come, and it has!" + +Andrew smiled in gentle scorn. + +"My dear Duncombe," he said, "why do you think it necessary to tell me a +thing so glaringly apparent? I have nothing to blame you for. It was a +foolish dream of mine, which I shall easily outlive. For, George, this +has been a great day for me. I believe that my time for dreams has gone +by." + +Duncombe turned towards him with interest. + +"What do you mean, Andrew?" + +"I have been to see Foudroye, the great oculist. He has examined my eyes +carefully, and he assures me positively that my eyesight is completely +sound. In two months' time I shall see as well as any one!" + +Duncombe's voice shook with emotion. He grasped his friend's hand. + +"That is good--magnificent, Andrew!" he declared. + +Their carriage rattled over the cobbled stones as they crossed the +Square. The white mysterious dawn was breaking over Paris. Andrew threw +his head back with a laugh. + +"Back into the world, George, where dreams are only the cobwebs of time, +and a man's work grows beneath his hands like a living statue to the +immortals. I feel my hands upon it, and the great winds blowing. Thank +God!" + + +THE END + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's note + +The following typographical error was corrected in the text: + + Phillis Poynton changed to Phyllis Poynton + + + + * * * * * + + + +POPULAR COPYRIGHT NOVELS + +_AT MODERATE PRICES_ + +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction + + * * * * * + +ABNER DANIEL. By Will N. Harben. + +ADVENTURES OF GERARD. By A. Conan Doyle. + +ADVENTURES OF A MODEST MAN. By Robert W. Chambers. + +ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES. By A. Conan Doyle. + +ADVENTURES OF JIMMIE DALE, THE. By Frank L. Packard. + +AFTER HOUSE, THE. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + +ALISA PAIGE. By Robert W. Chambers. + +ALTON OF SOMASCO. By Harold Bindloss. + +A MAN'S MAN. By Ian Hay. + +AMATEUR GENTLEMAN, THE. By Jeffery Farnol. + +ANDREW THE GLAD. By Maria Thompson Daviess. + +ANN BOYD. By Will N. Harben. + +ANNA THE ADVENTURESS. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +ANOTHER MAN'S SHOES. 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By Rex Beach. + +PARROTT & CO. By Harold MacGrath. + +PARTNERS OF THE TIDE. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +PASSIONATE FRIENDS, THE. By H. G. Wells. + +PATROL OF THE SUN DANCE TRAIL, THE. By Ralph Connor. + +PAUL ANTHONY, CHRISTIAN. By Hiram W. Hayes. + +PERCH OF THE DEVIL. By Gertrude Atherton. + +PETER RUFF. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +PEOPLE'S MAN, A. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +PHILLIP STEELE. By James Oliver Curwood. + +PIDGIN ISLAND. By Harold MacGrath. + +PLACE OF HONEYMOON, THE. By Harold MacGrath. + +PLUNDERER, THE. By Roy Norton. + +POLE BAKER. By Will N. Harben. + +POOL OF FLAME, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +PORT OF ADVENTURE, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +POSTMASTER, THE. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +POWER AND THE GLORY, THE. By Grace McGowan Cooke. + +PRAIRIE WIFE, THE. By Arthur Stringer. + +PRICE OF LOVE, THE. By Arnold Bennett. + +PRICE OF THE PRAIRIE, THE. By Margaret Hill McCarter. + +PRINCE OF SINNERS. By A. E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +PRINCES PASSES, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +PRINCESS VIRGINIA, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +PROMISE, THE. By J. B. Hendryx. + +PURPLE PARASOL, THE. By Geo. B. McCutcheon. + + +RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE, THE. By B. M. Bower. + +RANCHING FOR SYLVIA. By Harold Bindloss. + +REAL MAN, THE. By Francis Lynde. + +REASON WHY, THE. By Elinor Glyn. + +RED CROSS GIRL, THE. By Richard Harding Davis. + +RED MIST, THE. By Randall Parrish. + +REDEMPTION OF KENNETH GALT, THE. By Will N. Harben. + +RED LANE, THE. By Holman Day. + +RED MOUSE, THE. By Wm. Hamilton Osborne. + +RED PEPPER BURNS. By Grace S. Richmond. + +REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY, THE. By Anne Warner. + +RETURN OF TARZAN, THE. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + +RIDDLE OF NIGHT, THE. By Thomas W. Hanshew. + +RIM OF THE DESERT, THE. By Ada Woodruff Anderson. + +RISE OF ROSCOE PAINE, THE. By J. C. Lincoln. + +ROAD TO PROVIDENCE, THE. By Maria Thompson Daviess. + +ROBINETTA. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +ROCKS OF VALPRÉ, THE. By Ethel M. Dell. + +ROGUE BY COMPULSION, A. By Victor Bridges. + +ROSE IN THE RING, THE. By George Barr McCutcheon. + +ROSE OF THE WORLD. By Agnes and Egerton Castle. + +ROSE OF OLD HARPETH, THE. By Maria Thompson Daviess. + +ROUND THE CORNER IN GAY STREET. By Grace S. Richmond. + +ROUTLEDGE RIDES ALONE. By Will L. Comfort. + + +ST. ELMO. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans. + +SALAMANDER, THE. By Owen Johnson. + +SCIENTIFIC SPRAGUE. By Francis Lynde. + +SECOND VIOLIN, THE. By Grace S. Richmond. + +SECRET OF THE REEF, THE. By Harold Bindloss. + +SECRET HISTORY. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + +SELF-RAISED. (Ill.) By Mrs. Southworth. + +SEPTIMUS. By William J. Locke. + +SET IN SILVER. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +SEVEN DARLINGS, THE. By Gouverneur Morris. + +SHEA OF THE IRISH BRIGADE. By Randall Parrish. + +SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS, THE. By Harold Bell Wright. + +SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum. + +SIGN AT SIX, THE. By Stewart Edw. White. + +SILVER HORDE, THE. By Rex Beach. + +SIMON THE JESTER. By William J. Locke. + +SIREN OF THE SNOWS, A. By Stanley Shaw. + +SIR RICHARD CALMADY. By Lucas Malet. + +SIXTY-FIRST SECOND, THE. By Owen Johnson. + +SLIM PRINCESS, THE. By George Ade. + + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's notes + +The following typographical errors were corrected in the text above: + + 1. A. N. Williamson changed to A. M. Williamson + 2. Caroline Wells changed to Carolyn Wells + 3. Marjorie Benton Cook changed to Marjorie Benton Cooke + +The list of books presented at the bottom of this text ended +at "The Slim Princess" in the original scans that were used, +probably due to missing pages. Other copies that were obtained +did not include this list of books at all. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY*** + + +******* This file should be named 19341-8.txt or 19341-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/3/4/19341 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Phillips Oppenheim</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + +body { margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + +p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + +p.letter { text-align: right;} /* letter alignment */ + +a[name] { position:absolute;} + +a { text-decoration: none;} + +img { border: none;} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; + clear: both; + } /* all headings centered */ + +hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + +table { width: 80%; + padding: 1em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + } + +.chapter { text-align: right;} + +.book { text-align: center; + font-size: 110%; + font-weight: bold; + } + +.tocpnum { text-align: right;} + +.ohdash { letter-spacing: -0.25em; + } /* double em dash font correction */ + +ins.correction { border-bottom-style: dashed; + border-bottom-color: blue; + border-bottom-width: 1px; + } /* transcriber corrections */ + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: .7em; + text-align: right; + color: gray; + background-color: white; + } /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + +.center { text-align: center;} + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption { font-weight: bold;} + +.figcenter { margin: auto; text-align: center;} + +p.i8 { margin-left: 8em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; } + pre {font-size: 75%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Maker of History, by E. Phillips Oppenheim</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: A Maker of History</p> +<p>Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim</p> +<p>Release Date: September 20, 2006 [eBook #19341]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Patricia A. Benoy,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net/)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;"> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img src="images/cover300.jpg" width="252" height="300" alt="Book cover" title="Book cover" /></a> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 585px;"> +<img src="images/fpbig.png" width="585" height="686" alt=""'Guard this for me,' she whispered." (page 148)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'Guard this for me,' she whispered." (page 148)</span> +<p class="letter">[<i>Frontispiece</i></p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h1>A MAKER OF +HISTORY</h1> + +<h2>By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM</h2> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4> + +<h5>"The Kingdom of the Blind," "The Hillman,"<br /> +"The Double Traitor," Etc.</h5> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/de150.png" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative element" title="" /> +</div> + +<h4>With Frontispiece</h4> + +<h3>A. L. BURT COMPANY</h3> + +<h4>Publishers + New York</h4> + +<h5>Published by arrangement with <span class="smcap"> +Little, Brown & Company</span> +</h5> + + + +<h5><i>Copyright, 1905, 1906</i>, +<br /><span class="smcap">By Little, Brown, and Company</span>.</h5> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<table summary="Table of Contents"> + +<tr> + <th colspan ="3" class="book" >BOOK I</th> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter smcap">Chapter</td> + <td> </td> + <td class="tocpnum smcap">Page</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#A_MAKER_OF_HISTORY">I.</a></td> + <td class="smcap">An Accidental Spy</td> + <td class="tocpnum">1</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">At the Café Montmartre</td> + <td class="tocpnum">11</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Mysterious Disappearance</td> + <td class="tocpnum">18</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Falling of the Handkerchief</td> + <td class="tocpnum">26</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Love at First Sight</td> + <td class="tocpnum">33</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Vanishing Lady</td> + <td class="tocpnum">40</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Decoy-House of Europe</td> + <td class="tocpnum">48</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">"Duncombe's Hold-up"</td> + <td class="tocpnum">55</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Story of a Call</td> + <td class="tocpnum">64</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Spencer's Surprise</td> + <td class="tocpnum">72</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Word of Warning</td> + <td class="tocpnum">80</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Shadowing of Duncombe</td> + <td class="tocpnum">87</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">"Her Voice"</td> + <td class="tocpnum">93</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Laughter of Women</td> + <td class="tocpnum">101</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Miss Fielding from America</td> + <td class="tocpnum">107</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Miss Fielding asks a Question</td> + <td class="tocpnum">115</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">George Duncombe's Lie</td> + <td class="tocpnum">121</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">"Who Are These People?"</td> + <td class="tocpnum">129</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Hillside Encounter</td> + <td class="tocpnum">137</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Mr. Fielding in a New Rôle</td> + <td class="tocpnum">143</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Woman's Cry</td> + <td class="tocpnum">151</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Lord Runton is Suspicious</td> + <td class="tocpnum">160</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Her First Kiss</td> + <td class="tocpnum">171</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Empty Room</td> + <td class="tocpnum">179</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <th colspan="3" class="book">BOOK II</th> +</tr> + + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#BOOK_II">I. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Guy Poynton again</td> + <td class="tocpnum">185</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIa">II. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">An Old Story</td> + <td class="tocpnum">192</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIa">III. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Body from the Seine</td> + <td class="tocpnum">200</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVa">IV. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Insolence of Madame la Marquise</td> + <td class="tocpnum">208</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_Va">V. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Interviewing of Phyllis</td> + <td class="tocpnum">217</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIa">VI. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Blundering of Andrew</td> + <td class="tocpnum">225</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIa">VII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Spencer gets his Chance</td> + <td class="tocpnum">234</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIa">VIII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Political Interlude</td> + <td class="tocpnum">243</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXa">IX. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">Arrested!</td> + <td class="tocpnum">251</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_Xa">X. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Checkmating of Monsieur Louis</td> + <td class="tocpnum">259</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIa">XI. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Making of History</td> + <td class="tocpnum">267</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIIa">XII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">An Old Friend</td> + <td class="tocpnum">276</td></tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIIIa">XIII. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Newspaper Sensation</td> + <td class="tocpnum">285</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIVa">XIV. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">The Man who saved his Country</td> + <td class="tocpnum">294</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVa">XV. </a></td> + <td class="smcap">A Merry Meeting</td> + <td class="tocpnum">301</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h1><a name="A_MAKER_OF_HISTORY" id="A_MAKER_OF_HISTORY"></a> +A MAKER OF HISTORY</h1> + + + + + +<h2>BOOK I</h2> + + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>AN ACCIDENTAL SPY</h4> + + +<p>The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was stiff, footsore, and a little +chilly. There was no man-servant arranging his bath and clothes, no +pleasant smell of coffee—none of the small luxuries to which he was +accustomed. On the contrary, he had slept all night upon a bed of +bracken, with no other covering than the stiff pine needles from the +tall black trees, whose rustling music had lulled him to sleep.</p> + +<p>He sat up, and remembered suddenly where he was and how he had come +there. He yawned, and was on the point of struggling to his feet when he +became aware of certain changed conditions in his surroundings. Some +instinct, of simple curiosity perhaps, but of far-reaching effect, led +him to crawl back into his hiding-place and watch.</p> + +<p>Last night, after many hours of painful walking, two things alone had +impressed themselves upon his consciousness: the dark illimitable forest +and the double line of rails, which with the absolute straightness of +exact science had stretched behind and in front till the tree-tops in +the far distance seemed to touch, and the rails themselves to vanish +into the black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> heart of the close-growing pines. For miles he had +limped along the painfully rough track without seeing the slightest sign +of any break in the woods, or any human being. At last the desire for +sleep had overtaken him. He was a hardy young Englishman, and a night +out of doors in the middle of June under these odorous pines presented +itself merely as a not disagreeable adventure. Five minutes after the +idea had occurred to him he was asleep.</p> + +<p>And now in the gray morning he looked out upon a different scene. +Scarcely a dozen yards from him stood a single travelling-coach of dark +green, drawn by a heavy engine. At intervals of scarcely twenty paces up +and down the line, as far as he could see, soldiers were stationed like +sentries. They were looking sharply about in all directions, and he +could even hear the footsteps of others crashing through the wood. From +the train three or four men in long cloaks had already descended. They +were standing in the track talking together.</p> + +<p>The young man behind the bracken felt himself in somewhat of a dilemma. +There was a delightful smell of fresh coffee from the waiting coach, and +there seemed to be not the slightest reason why he should not emerge +from his hiding-place and claim the hospitality of these people. He was +a quite harmless person, with proper credentials, and an adequate +explanation of his presence there. On the other hand, the spirit of +adventure natural to his years strongly prompted him to remain where he +was and watch. He felt certain that something was going to happen. +Besides, those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for somebody to +shoot!</p> + +<p>Whilst he was hesitating, something did happen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> There was a shrill +whistle, a puff of white smoke in the distance, and another train +approached from the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>It drew up within a few feet of the one which was already waiting. +Almost immediately half a dozen men, who were already standing upon the +platform of the car, descended. One of these approached rapidly, and +saluted the central figure of those who had been talking together in the +track. After a few moments' conversation these two, followed by one +other man only who was carrying a writing portfolio, ascended the +platform of the train which had arrived first and disappeared inside.</p> + +<p>The young man who was watching these proceedings yawned.</p> + +<p>"No duel, then!" he muttered to himself. "I've half a mind to go out." +Then he caught sight of a particularly fierce-looking soldier with his +finger already upon the trigger of his gun, and he decided to remain +where he was.</p> + +<p>In about half an hour the two men reappeared on the platform of the car. +Simultaneously the window of the carriage in which they had been sitting +was opened, and the third man was visible, standing before a small table +and arranging some papers. Suddenly he was called from outside. He +thrust his hat upon the papers, and hastened to obey the summons.</p> + +<p>A little gust of breeze from the opening and closing of the door +detached one of the sheets of paper from the restraining weight of the +hat. It fluttered out of the window and lay for a moment upon the side +of the track. No one noticed it, and in a second or two it fluttered +underneath the clump of bracken behind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> which the young Englishman was +hiding. He thrust out his hand and calmly secured it.</p> + +<p>In less than five minutes the place was deserted. Amidst many hasty +farewells, wholly unintelligible to the watcher, the two groups of men +separated and climbed into their respective trains. As soon as every one +was out of sight the Englishman rose with a little grunt of satisfaction +and stretched himself.</p> + +<p>He glanced first at the sheet of paper, and finding it written in German +thrust it into his pocket. Then he commenced an anxious search for +smoking materials, and eventually produced a pipe, a crumpled packet of +tobacco, and two matches.</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, lighting up. "And now for a tramp."</p> + +<p>He plodded steadily along the track for an hour or more. All the time he +was in the heart of the forest. Pheasants and rabbits and squirrels +continually crossed in front of him. Once a train passed, and an excited +guard shouted threats and warnings, to which he replied in fluent but +ineffective English.</p> + +<p>"Johnnies seem to think I'm trespassing!" he remarked to himself in an +aggrieved tone. "I can't help being on their beastly line!"</p> + +<p>Tall, smooth-faced, and fair, he walked with the long step and lightsome +grace of the athletic young Englishman of his day. He was well dressed +in tweed clothes, cut by a good tailor, a little creased by his night +out of doors, but otherwise immaculate. He hummed a popular air to +himself, and held his head high. If only he were not so hungry.</p> + +<p>Then he came to a station. It was little more than a few rows of planks, +with a chalet at one end—but a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> very welcome sight confronted him. A +little pile of luggage, with his initials, G. P., was on the end of the +platform nearest to him.</p> + +<p>"That conductor was a sensible chap," he exclaimed. "Glad I tipped him. +Hullo!"</p> + +<p>The station-master, in uniform, came hurrying out. The young Englishman +took off his hat, and produced a phrase book from his pocket. He ignored +the stream of words which the station-master, with many gesticulations, +was already pouring out.</p> + +<p>"My luggage," he said firmly, laying one hand upon the pile, and waving +the phrase book.</p> + +<p>The station-master acquiesced heartily. He waxed eloquent again, but the +Englishman was busy with the phrase book.</p> + +<p>"Hungry! Hotel?" he attempted.</p> + +<p>The station-master pointed to where the smoke was curling upwards from a +score or so of houses about half a mile distant. The Englishman was +getting pleased with himself. Outside was a weird-looking carriage, and +on the box seat, fast asleep, was a very fat man in a shiny hat, +ornamented by a bunch of feathers. He pointed to the luggage, then to +the cab, and finally to the village.</p> + +<p>"Luggage, hotel, carriage!" he suggested.</p> + +<p>The station-master beamed all over. With a shout, which must have +reached the village, he awakened the sleeping man. In less than five +minutes the Englishman and his luggage were stored away in the carriage. +His ticket had been examined by the station-master, and smilingly +accepted. There were more bows and salutes, and the carriage drove off. +Mr. Guy Poynton leaned back amongst the mouldy leather upholstery, and +smiled complacently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Easiest thing in the world to get on in a foreign country with a phrase +book and your wits," he remarked to himself. "Jove, I am hungry!"</p> + +<p>He drove into a village of half a dozen houses or so, which reminded him +of the pictured abodes of Noah and his brethren. An astonished +innkeeper, whose morning attire apparently consisted of trousers, shirt, +and spectacles, ushered him into a bare room with a trestle table. Guy +produced his phrase book.</p> + +<p>"Hungry!" he said vociferously. "Want to eat! Coffee!"</p> + +<p>The man appeared to understand, but in case there should have been any +mistake Guy followed him into the kitchen. The driver, who had lost no +time, was already there, with a long glass of beer before him. Guy +produced a mark, laid it on the table, touched himself, the innkeeper, +and the driver, and pointed to the beer. The innkeeper understood, and +the beer was good.</p> + +<p>The driver, who had been of course ludicrously over-paid, settled down +in his corner, and announced his intention of seeing through to the end +this most extraordinary and Heaven-directed occurrence. The innkeeper +and his wife busied themselves with the breakfast, and Guy made remarks +every now and then from his phrase book, which were usually +incomprehensible, except when they concerned a further supply of beer. +With a brave acceptance of the courtesies of the country he had accepted +a cigar from the driver, and was already contemplating the awful moment +when he would have to light it. Just then an interruption came.</p> + +<p>It was something very official, but whether military<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> or of the police +Guy could not tell. It strode into the room with clanking of spurs, and +the driver and innkeeper alike stood up in respect. It saluted Guy. Guy +took off his hat. Then there came words, but Guy was busy with his +phrase book.</p> + +<p>"I cannot a word of German speak!" he announced at last.</p> + +<p>A deadlock ensued. The innkeeper and the driver rushed into the breach. +Conversation became furious. Guy took advantage of the moment to slip +the cigar into his pocket, and to light a cigarette. Finally, the +officer swung himself round, and departed abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Dolmetscher," the driver announced to him triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Dolmetscher," the innkeeper repeated.</p> + +<p>Guy turned it up in his phrase book, and found that it meant +interpreter. He devoted himself then to stimulating the preparations for +breakfast.</p> + +<p>The meal was ready at last. There were eggs and ham and veal, +dark-colored bread, and coffee, sufficient for about a dozen people. The +driver constituted himself host, and Guy, with a shout of laughter, sat +down where he was, and ate. In the midst of the meal the officer +reappeared, ushering in a small wizened-faced individual of unmistakably +English appearance. Guy turned round in his chair, and the newcomer +touched his forelock.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" Guy exclaimed. "You're English!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" the man answered. "Came over to train polo ponies for the +Prince of Haepsburg. Not in any trouble, I hope, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Not I," Guy answered cheerily. "Don't mind my going on with my +breakfast, do you? What's it all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> about? Who's the gentleman with the +fireman's helmet on, and what's he worrying about?"</p> + +<p>"He is an officer of the police, sir, on special service," the man +answered. "You have been reported for trespassing on the State railway +this morning."</p> + +<p>"Trespassing be blowed!" Guy answered. "I've got my ticket for the +frontier. We were blocked by signal about half a dozen miles off this +place, and I got down to stretch my legs. I understood them to say that +we could not go on for half an hour or so. They never tried to stop my +getting down, and then off they went without any warning, and left me +there."</p> + +<p>"I will translate to the officer, sir," the man said.</p> + +<p>"Right!" Guy declared. "Go ahead."</p> + +<p>There was a brisk colloquy between the two. Then the little man began +again.</p> + +<p>"He says that your train passed here at midnight, and that you did not +arrive until past six."</p> + +<p>"Quite right!" Guy admitted. "I went to sleep. I didn't know how far it +was to the station, and I was dead tired."</p> + +<p>"The officer wishes to know whether many trains passed you in the +night?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say," Guy answered. "I sleep very soundly, and I never opened my +eyes after the first few minutes."</p> + +<p>"The officer wishes to know whether you saw anything unusual upon the +line?" the little man asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all," Guy answered coolly. "Bit inquisitive, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>The little man came closer to the table.</p> + +<p>"He wishes to see your passport, sir," he announced.</p> + +<p>Guy handed it to him, also a letter of credit and several other +documents.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He wants to know why you were going to the frontier, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Sort of fancy to say that I'd been in Russia, that's all!" Guy +answered. "You tell him I'm a perfectly harmless individual. Never been +abroad before."</p> + +<p>The officer listened, and took notes in his pocketbook of the passport +and letter of credit. Then he departed with a formal salute, and they +heard his horse's hoofs ring upon the road outside as he galloped away. +The little man came close up to the table.</p> + +<p>"You'll excuse me, sir," he said, "but you seem to have upset the +officials very much by being upon the line last night. There have been +some rumors going about—but perhaps you're best not to know that. May I +give you a word of advice, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Let me give you one," Guy declared. "Try this beer!"</p> + +<p>"I thank you, sir," the man answered. "I will do so with pleasure. But +if you are really an ordinary tourist, sir,—as I have no doubt you +are,—let this man drive you to Streuen, and take the train for the +Austrian frontier. You may save yourself a good deal of unpleasantness."</p> + +<p>"I'll do it!" Guy declared. "Vienna was the next place I was going to, +anyhow. You tell the fellow where to take me, will you?"</p> + +<p>The man spoke rapidly to the driver.</p> + +<p>"I think that you will be followed, sir," he added, turning to Guy, "but +very likely they won't interfere with you. The railway last night for +twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know +why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> here, but they have an +idea that you are either a journalist or a spy."</p> + +<p>"<i>Civis Britannicus sum!</i>" the boy answered, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>AT THE CAFÉ MONTMARTRE</h4> + + +<p>Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in +evening dress, entered the Café Montmartre, in Paris. He made his way +through the heterogeneous little crowd of men and women who were +drinking at the bar, past the scarlet-coated orchestra, into the inner +room, where the tables were laid for supper. Monsieur Albert, satisfied +with the appearance of his new client, led him at once to a small table, +submitted the wine card, and summoned a waiter. With some difficulty, as +his French was very little better than his German, he ordered supper, +and then lighting a cigarette, leaned back against the wall and looked +around to see if he could discover any English or Americans.</p> + +<p>The room was only moderately full, for the hour was a little early for +this quarter of Paris. Nevertheless, he was quick to appreciate a +certain spirit of Bohemianism which pleased him. Every one talked to his +neighbor. An American from the further end of the room raised his glass +and drank his health. A pretty fair-haired girl leaned over from her +table and smiled at him.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur like talk with me, eh?"</p> + +<p>"English?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No. De Wien!"</p> + +<p>He shook his head smilingly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We shouldn't get on," he declared. "Can't speak the language."</p> + +<p>She raised her eyebrows with a protesting gesture, but he looked away +and opened an illustrated paper by his side. He turned over the pages +idly enough at first, but suddenly paused. He whistled softly to himself +and stared at the two photographs which filled the sheet.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he said softly to himself.</p> + +<p>There was the rustling of skirts close to his table. An unmistakably +English voice addressed him.</p> + +<p>"Is it anything very interesting? Do show me!"</p> + +<p>He looked up. Mademoiselle Flossie, pleased with his appearance, had +paused on her way down the room.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit down, and I'll show it you!" he said, rising. "You're +English, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Flossie waved a temporary adieu to her friends and accepted +the invitation. He poured her out a glass of wine.</p> + +<p>"Stay and have supper with me," he begged. "I must be off soon, but I'm +tired of being alone. This is my last night, thank goodness."</p> + +<p>"All right!" she answered gayly. "I must go back to my friends directly +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Order what you like," he begged. "I can't make these chaps understand +me."</p> + +<p>She laughed, and called the waiter.</p> + +<p>"And now show me what you were looking at in that paper," she insisted.</p> + +<p>He pointed to the two photographs.</p> + +<p>"I saw those two together only a week ago," he said. "Want to hear about +it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>She looked startled for a moment, and a little incredulous.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go on!" she said.</p> + +<p>He told her the story. She listened with an interest which surprised +him. Once or twice when he looked up he fancied that the lady from +Vienna was also doing her best to listen. When he had finished their +supper had arrived.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said, as she helped herself to <i>hors d'œuvre</i>, "that +you were very fortunate to get away."</p> + +<p>He laughed carelessly.</p> + +<p>"The joke of it is," he said, "I've been followed all the way here. One +fellow, who pretended he got in at Strasburg, was trying to talk to me +all the time, but I saw him sneak in at Vienna, and I wasn't having any. +I say, do you come here every evening?"</p> + +<p>"Very often," she answered. "I dance at the Comique, and then we +generally go to Maxim's to supper, and up here afterwards. I'll +introduce you to my friends afterwards, if you like, and we'll all sit +together. If you're very good I'll dance to you!"</p> + +<p>"Delighted," he answered, "if they speak English. I'm sick of trying to +make people understand my rotten French."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"They speak English all right. I wish that horrid Viennese girl wouldn't +try to listen to every word we say."</p> + +<p>He smiled.</p> + +<p>"She wanted me to sit at her table," he remarked.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Flossie looked at him warningly, and dropped her voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Better be careful!" she whispered. "They say she's a spy!"</p> + +<p>"On my track very likely," he declared with a grin.</p> + +<p>She threw herself back in her seat and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Conceited! Why should any one want to be on your track? Come and see me +dance at the Comique to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"Can't," he declared. "My sister's coming over from England."</p> + +<p>"Stupid!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll come one night," he declared. "Order some coffee, won't +you—and what liqueurs?"</p> + +<p>"I'll go and fetch my friends," she declared, rising. "We'll all have +coffee together."</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She pointed to a little group down the room—two men and a woman. The +men were French, one middle-aged and one young, dark, immaculate, and +with the slightly bored air affected by young Frenchmen of fashion; the +woman was strikingly handsome and magnificently dressed. They were quite +the most distinguished-looking people in the room.</p> + +<p>"If you think they'll come," he remarked doubtfully. "Aren't we rather +comfortable as we are?"</p> + +<p>She made her way between the tables.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they'll come," she declared. "They're pals!"</p> + +<p>She floated down the room with a cigarette in her mouth, very graceful +in her airy muslin skirts and large hat. Guy followed her admiringly +with his eyes. The Viennese lady suddenly tore off a corner of her menu +and scribbled something quickly. She passed it over to Guy.</p> + +<p>"Read!" she said imperatively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>He nodded, and opened it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Prenez garde!</i>" he said slowly. Then he looked at her and shook his +head. She was making signs to him to destroy her message, and he at once +did so.</p> + +<p>"Don't understand!" he said. "Sorry!"</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Flossie was laughing and talking with her friends. +Presently they rose, and came across the room with her. Guy stood up and +bowed. The introductions were informal, but he felt his insular +prejudices a little shattered by the delightful ease with which these +two Frenchmen accepted the situation. Their breeding was as obvious as +their <i>bonhomie</i>. The table was speedily rearranged to find places for +them all.</p> + +<p>"Your friends will take coffee with me, Mademoiselle," Guy said. "Do be +hostess, please. My attempts at French will only amuse everybody."</p> + +<p>The elder of the two Frenchmen, whom the waiter addressed as Monsieur le +Baron, and every one else as Louis, held up his hand.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure!" he declared, "later on. Just now it is too early. We +will celebrate <i>l'entente cordiale</i>. <i>Garçon</i>, a magnum of Pommery, <i>un +neu frappé</i>! I know you will forgive the liberty," he said, smiling at +Guy. "This bottle is vowed. Flossie has smiled for the first time for +three evenings."</p> + +<p>She threw a paper fan at him, and sat down again by Guy.</p> + +<p>"Do tell him the story you told me," she whispered in his ear. "Louis, +listen!"</p> + +<p>Guy retold his story. Monsieur le Baron listened intently. So did the +lady who had accompanied him. Guy felt that he told it very well, but +for the second time he omitted all mention of that missing sheet of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +paper which had come into his possession. Monsieur le Baron was +obviously much interested.</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure—of the two men?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Quite!" Guy answered confidently. "One was<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>Madame—Flossie's friend—dropped a wineglass. Monsieur le Baron raised +his hand.</p> + +<p>"No names," he said. "It is better not. We understand. A most +interesting adventure, Monsieur Poynton, and—to your health!"</p> + +<p>The wine was good, and the fun of the place itself went almost to the +head. Always there were newcomers who passed down the room amidst a +chorus of greetings, always the gayest of music. Then amidst cheers +Flossie and another friend whom she called from a distant table danced a +cake-walk—danced very gracefully, and with a marvellous display of +rainbow skirts. She came back breathless, and threw herself down by +Guy's side.</p> + +<p>"Give me some more wine!" she panted. "How close the place is!"</p> + +<p>The younger Frenchman, who had scarcely spoken, leaned over.</p> + +<p>"An idea!" he exclaimed. "My automobile is outside. I will drive you all +round the city. Monsieur Poynton shall see Paris undressed. Afterwards +we will go to Louis' rooms and make his man cook us a <i>déjeuner +Anglais</i>."</p> + +<p>Flossie stood up and laughed.</p> + +<p>"Who'll lend me a coat?" she cried. "I've nothing but a lace mantle."</p> + +<p>"Plenty of Frenchmen in the car," the young Frenchman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> cried. "Are we +all agreed? Good! <i>Garçon, l'addition!</i>"</p> + +<p>"And mine," Guy ordered.</p> + +<p>The women departed for their wraps. Guy and the two Frenchmen filled +their pockets with cigarettes. When the bills came Guy found that his +own was a trifle, and Monsieur Louis waved aside all protest.</p> + +<p>"We are hosts to-night, my young friend," he declared with charming +insistence. "Another time you shall have your turn. You must come round +to the club to-morrow, and we will arrange for some sport. <i>Allons!</i>"</p> + +<p>They crowded out together amidst a chorus of farewells. Guy took +Flossie's arm going down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"I say, I'm awfully obliged to you for introducing me to your friends," +he declared. "I'm having a ripping time!"</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're all right," she declared. "Mind my skirts!"</p> + +<p>"I say, what does '<i>prenez garde</i>' mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"'Take care.' Why?"</p> + +<p>He laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Nothing!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE</h4> + + +<p>"Mademoiselle," the young man said, with an air of somewhat weary +politeness, "I regret to say that there is nothing more to be done!"</p> + +<p>He was grieved and polite because Mademoiselle was beautiful and in +trouble. For the rest he was a little tired of her. Brothers of +twenty-one, who have never been in Paris before, and cannot speak the +language, must occasionally get lost, and the British Embassy is not +exactly a transported Scotland Yard.</p> + +<p>"Then," she declared, with a vigorous little stamp of her shapely foot, +"I don't see what we keep an Ambassador here for at all—or any of you. +It is scandalous!"</p> + +<p>The Hon. Nigel Fergusson dropped his eyeglass and surveyed the young +lady attentively.</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Poynton," he said, "I will not presume to argue with you. +We are here, I suppose, for some purpose or other. Whether we fulfil it +or not may well be a matter of opinion. But that purpose is certainly +not to look after any young idiot—you must excuse my speaking +plainly—who runs amuck in this most fascinating city. In your case the +Chief has gone out of his way to help you. He has interviewed the chief +of police himself, brought his influence to bear in various quarters, +and I can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> tell you conscientiously that everything which possibly can +be done is being done at the present moment. If you wish for my advice +it is this: Send for some friend to keep you company here, and try to be +patient. You are in all probability making yourself needlessly +miserable."</p> + +<p>She looked at him a little reproachfully. He noticed, however, with +secret joy that she was drawing on her gloves.</p> + +<p>"Patient! He was to meet me here ten days ago. He arrived at the hotel. +His clothes are all there, and his bill unpaid. He went out the night of +his arrival, and has never returned. Patient! Well, I am much obliged to +you, Mr. Fergusson. I have no doubt that you have done all that your +duty required. Good afternoon!"</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Miss Poynton, and don't be too despondent. Remember +that the French police are the cleverest in the world, and they are +working for you."</p> + +<p>She looked up at him scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Police, indeed!" she answered. "Do you know that all they have done so +far is to keep sending for me to go and look at dead bodies down at the +Morgue? I think that I shall send over for an English detective."</p> + +<p>"You might do worse," he answered; "but in any case, Miss Poynton, I do +hope that you will send over for some friend or relation to keep you +company. Paris is scarcely a fit place for you to be alone and in +trouble."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said. "I will remember what you have said."</p> + +<p>The young man watched her depart with a curious mixture of relief and +regret.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The young fool's been the usual round, I suppose, and he's either too +much ashamed of himself or too besotted to turn up. I wish she wasn't +quite so devilish good-looking," he remarked to himself. "If she goes +about alone she'll get badly scared before she's finished."</p> + +<p>Phyllis Poynton drove straight back to her hotel and went to her room. A +sympathetic chambermaid followed her in.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle has news yet of her brother?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle shook her head. Indeed her face was sufficient answer.</p> + +<p>"None at all, Marie."</p> + +<p>The chambermaid closed the door.</p> + +<p>"It would help Mademoiselle, perhaps, if she knew where the young +gentleman spent the evening before he disappeared?" she inquired +mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Of course! That is just what I want to find out."</p> + +<p>Marie smiled.</p> + +<p>"There is a young man here in the barber's shop, Mademoiselle," she +announced. "He remembers Monsieur Poynton quite well. He went in there +to be shaved, and he asked some questions. I think if Mademoiselle were +to see him!"</p> + +<p>The girl jumped up at once.</p> + +<p>"Do you know his name?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Alphonse, they call him. He is on duty now."</p> + +<p><ins class="correction" style="text-decoration: none" + title="Transcriber's Note: The original text reads 'Phillis'.">Phyllis</ins> +Poynton descended at once to the ground floor of the hotel, and +pushed open the glass door which led into the coiffeur's shop. Monsieur +Alphonse was waiting upon a customer, and she was given a chair. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> a +few minutes he descended the spiral iron staircase and desired to know +Mademoiselle's pleasure.</p> + +<p>"You speak English?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"But certainly, Mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>She gave a little sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said, "if you remember waiting upon my brother last +Thursday week. He was tall and fair, and something like me. He had just +arrived in Paris."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Alphonse smiled. He rarely forgot a face, and the young +Englishman's tip had been munificent.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, Mademoiselle," he answered. "They sent for me because +Monsieur spoke no French."</p> + +<p>"My chambermaid, Marie, told me that you might perhaps know how he +proposed to spend the evening," she continued. "He was quite a stranger +in Paris, and he may have asked for some information."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Alphonse smiled, and extended his hands.</p> + +<p>"It is quite true," he answered. "He asked me where to go, and I say to +the Folies Bergères. Then he said he had heard a good deal of the supper +cafés, and he asked me which was the most amusing. I tell him the Café +Montmartre. He wrote it down."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that he meant to go there?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"But certainly. He promised to come and tell me the next day how he +amused himself."</p> + +<p>"The Café Montmartre. Where is it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"In the Place de Montmartre. But Mademoiselle pardons—she will +understand that it is a place for men."</p> + +<p>"Are women not admitted?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Alphonse smiled.</p> + +<p>"But—yes. Only Mademoiselle understands that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> if a lady should go there +she would need to be very well escorted."</p> + +<p>She rose and slipped a coin into his hand.</p> + +<p>"I am very much obliged to you," she said. "By the bye, have any other +people made inquiries of you concerning my brother?"</p> + +<p>"No one at all, Mademoiselle!" the man answered.</p> + +<p>She almost slammed the door behind when she went out.</p> + +<p>"And they say that the French police are the cleverest in the world," +she exclaimed indignantly.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Alphonse watched her through the glass pane.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ciel!</i> But she is pretty!" he murmured to himself.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>She turned into the writing-room, and taking off her gloves she wrote a +letter. Her pretty fingers were innocent of rings, and her handwriting +was a little shaky. Nevertheless, it is certain that not a man passed +through the room who did not find an excuse to steal a second glance at +her. This is what she wrote:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Andrew</span>,—I am in great distress here, and +very unhappy. I should have written to you before, but I know +that you have your own trouble to bear just now, and I hated +to bother you. I arrived here punctually on the date arranged +upon between Guy and myself, and found that he had arrived the +night before, and had engaged a room for me. He was out when I +came. I changed my clothes and sat down to wait for him. He +did not return. I made inquiries and found that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> he had left +the hotel at eight o'clock the previous evening. To cut the +matter short, ten days have now elapsed and he has not yet +returned.</p> + +<p>"I have been to the Embassy, to the police, and to the Morgue. +Nowhere have I found the slightest trace of him. No one seems +to take the least interest in his disappearance. The police +shrug their shoulders, and look at me as though I ought to +understand—he will return very shortly they are quite sure. +At the Embassy they have begun to look upon me as a nuisance. +The Morgue—Heaven send that I may one day forget the horror +of my hasty visits there. I have come to the conclusion, +Andrew, that I must search for him myself. How, I do not know; +where, I do not know. But I shall not leave Paris until I have +found him.</p> + +<p>"Andrew, what I want is a friend here. A few months ago I +should not have hesitated a moment to ask you to come to me. +To-day that is impossible. Your presence here would only be an +embarrassment to both of us. Do you know of any one who would +come? I have not a single relative whom I can ask to help me. +Would you advise me to write to Scotland Yard for a detective, +or go to one of these agencies? If not, can you think of any +one who would come here and help me, either for your sake as +your friend, or, better still, a detective who can speak +French and whom one can trust? All our lives Guy and I have +congratulated ourselves that we have no relation nearer than +India. I am finding out the other side of it now.</p> + +<p>"I know that you will do what you can for me, Andrew. Write to +me by return.</p> + + +<p>"Yours in great trouble and distress,</p> + +<p class="letter">"<span class="smcap">Phyllis Poynton</span>."</p></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>She sealed and addressed her letter, and saw it despatched. Afterwards +she crossed the courtyard to the restaurant, and did her best to eat +some dinner. When she had finished it was only half-past eight. She rang +for the lift and ascended to the fourth floor. On her way down the +corridor a sudden thought struck her. She took a key from her pocket and +entered the room which her brother had occupied.</p> + +<p>His things were still lying about in some disorder, and neither of his +trunks was locked. She went down on her knees and calmly proceeded to go +through his belongings. It was rather a forlorn hope, but it seemed to +her just possible that there might be in some of his pockets a letter +which would throw light upon his disappearance. She found nothing of the +sort, however. There were picture postcards, a few photographs, and a +good many restaurant bills, but they were all from places in Germany and +Austria. At the bottom of the second trunk, however, she found something +which he had evidently considered it worth while to preserve carefully. +It was a thick sheet of official-looking paper, bearing at the top an +embossed crown, and covered with German writing. It was numbered at the +top "seventeen," and it was evidently an odd sheet of some document. She +folded it carefully up, and took it back with her to her own room. Then, +with the help of a German dictionary, she commenced to study it. At the +end of an hour she had made out a rough translation, which she read +carefully through. When she had finished she was thoroughly perplexed. +She had an uncomfortable sense of having come into touch with something +wholly unexpected and mysterious.</p> + +<p>"What am I to do?" she said to herself softly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What can it mean? Where on earth can Guy—have found this?"</p> + +<p>There was no one to answer her, no one to advise. An overwhelming sense +of her own loneliness brought the tears into her eyes. She sat for some +time with her face buried in her hands. Then she rose up, calmly +destroyed her translation with minute care, and locked away the +mysterious sheet at the bottom of her dressing-bag. The more she thought +of it the less, after all, she felt inclined to connect it with his +disappearance.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF</h4> + + +<p>Monsieur Albert looked over her shoulder for the man who must surely be +in attendance—but he looked in vain.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle wishes a table—for herself alone!" he repeated +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"If you please," she answered.</p> + +<p>It was obvious that Mademoiselle was of the class which does not +frequent night cafés alone, but after all that was scarcely Monsieur +Albert's concern. She came perhaps from that strange land of the free, +whose daughters had long ago kicked over the barriers of sex with the +same abandon that Mademoiselle Flossie would display the soles of her +feet a few hours later in their national dance. If she had chanced to +raise her veil no earthly persuasions on her part would have secured for +her the freedom of that little room, for Monsieur Albert's appreciation +of likeness was equal to his memory for faces. But it was not until she +was comfortably ensconced at a corner table, from which she had a good +view of the room, that she did so, and Monsieur Albert realized with a +philosophic shrug of the shoulders the error he had committed.</p> + +<p>Phyllis looked about her with some curiosity. It was too early for the +habitués of the place, and most of the tables were empty. The +scarlet-coated band were smoking cigarettes, and had not yet produced +their instru<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>ments. The conductor curled his black moustache and stared +hard at the beautiful young English lady, without, however, being able +to attract a single glance in return. One or two men also tried to +convey to her by smiles and glances the fact that her solitude need +continue no longer than she chose. The unattached ladies put their heads +together and discussed her with little peals of laughter. To all of +these things she remained indifferent. She ordered a supper which she +ate mechanically, and wine which she scarcely drank. All the while she +was considering. Now that she was here what could she do? Of whom was +she to make inquiries? She scanned the faces of the newcomers with a +certain grave curiosity which puzzled them. She neither invited nor +repelled notice. She remained entirely at her ease.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Albert, during one of his peregrinations round the room, passed +close to her table. She stopped him.</p> + +<p>"I trust that Mademoiselle is well served!" he remarked with a little +bow.</p> + +<p>"Excellently, I thank you," she answered.</p> + +<p>He would have passed on, but she detained him.</p> + +<p>"You have very many visitors here," she remarked. "Is it the same +always?"</p> + +<p>He smiled.</p> + +<p>"To-night," he declared, "it is nothing. There are many who come here +every evening. They amuse themselves here."</p> + +<p>"You have a good many strangers also?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"But certainly," he declared. "All the time!"</p> + +<p>"I have a brother," she said, "who was here eleven nights ago—let me +see—that would be last Tuesday<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> week. He is tall and fair, about +twenty-one, and they say like me. I wonder if you remember him."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>"That is strange," he declared, "for as a rule I forget no one. Last +Tuesday week I remember perfectly well. It was a quiet evening. La Scala +was here—but of the rest no one. If Mademoiselle's brother was here it +is most strange."</p> + +<p>Her lip quivered for a moment. She was disappointed.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," she said. "I hoped that you might have been able to +help me. He left the Grand Hotel on that night with the intention of +coming here—and he never returned. I have been very much worried ever +since."</p> + +<p>She was no great judge of character, but Monsieur Albert's sympathy did +not impress her with its sincerity.</p> + +<p>"If Mademoiselle desires," he said, "I will make inquiries amongst the +waiters. I very much fear, however, that she will obtain no news here."</p> + +<p>He departed, and Phyllis watched him talking to some of the waiters and +the leader of the orchestra.</p> + +<p>Presently he returned.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," he announced, "but the brother of Mademoiselle could +not have come here. I have inquired of the garçons, and of Monsieur +Jules there, who forgets no one. They answer all the same."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," she answered. "It must have been somewhere else!"</p> + +<p>She was unreasonably disappointed. It had been a very slender chance, +but at least it was something tangible. She had scarcely expected to +have it snapped so soon and so thoroughly. She dropped her veil to hide +the tears which she felt were not far from her eyes, and summoned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> the +waiter for her bill. There seemed to be no object in staying longer. +Suddenly the unexpected happened.</p> + +<p>A hand, flashing with jewels, was rested for a moment upon her table. +When it was withdrawn a scrap of paper remained there.</p> + +<p>Phyllis looked up in amazement. The girl to whom the hand had belonged +was sitting at the next table, but her head was turned away, and she +seemed to be only concerned in watching the door. She drew the scrap of +paper towards her and cautiously opened it. This is what she read, +written in English, but with a foreign turn to most of the letters:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Monsieur Albert lied. Your brother was here. Wait till I +speak to you."</p></div> + +<p>Instinctively she crumpled up this strange little note in her hand. She +struggled hard to maintain her composure. She had at once the idea that +every one in the place was looking at her. Monsieur Albert, indeed, on +his way down the room wondered what had driven the hopeless expression +from her face.</p> + +<p>The waiter brought her bill. She paid it and tipped him with prodigality +which for a woman was almost reckless. Then she ordered coffee, and +after a second's hesitation cigarettes. Why not? Nearly all the women +were smoking, and she desired to pass for the moment as one of them. For +the first time she ventured to gaze at her neighbor.</p> + +<p>It was the young lady from Vienna. She was dressed in a wonderful +demi-toilette of white lace, and she wore a large picture hat adjusted +at exactly the right angle for her profile. From her throat and bosom +there flashed the sparkle of many gems—the finger which held her +cigarette was ablaze with diamonds. She leaned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> back in her seat smoking +lazily, and she met Phyllis's furtive gaze with almost insolent +coldness. But a moment later, when Monsieur Albert's back was turned, +she leaned forward and addressed her rapidly.</p> + +<p>"A man will come here," she said, "who could tell you, if he was +willing, all that you seek to know. He will come to-night—he comes all +the nights. You will see I hold my handkerchief so in my right hand. +When he comes I shall drop it—so!"</p> + +<p>The girl's swift speech, her half-fearful glances towards the door, +puzzled Phyllis.</p> + +<p>"Can you not come nearer to me and talk?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No! You must not speak to me again. You must not let any one, +especially the man himself, know what I have told you. No more now. +Watch for the handkerchief!"</p> + +<p>"But what shall I say to him?"</p> + +<p>The girl took no notice of her. She was looking in the opposite +direction. She seemed to have edged away as far as possible from her. +Phyllis drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>She felt her heart beating with excitement. The place suddenly seemed to +her like part of a nightmare.</p> + +<p>And then all was clear again. Fortune was on her side. The secret of +Guy's disappearance was in this room, and a few careless words from the +girl at the next table had told her more than an entire police system +had been able to discover. But why the mystery? What was she to say to +the man when he came? The girl from Vienna was talking to some friends +and toying carelessly with a little morsel of lace which she had drawn +from her bosom. Phyllis watched it with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> eyes of a cat. Every now +and then she watched also the door.</p> + +<p>The place was much fuller now. Mademoiselle Flossie had arrived with a +small company of friends from Maxim's. The music was playing all the +time. The popping of corks was almost incessant, the volume of sound had +swelled. The laughter and greeting of friends betrayed more abandon than +earlier in the evening. Old acquaintances had been renewed, and new ones +made. Mademoiselle from Vienna was surrounded by a little circle of +admirers. Still she held in her right hand a crumpled up little ball of +lace.</p> + +<p>Men passing down the room tried to attract the attention of the +beautiful young English demoiselle who looked out upon the little scene +so indifferently as regarded individuals, and yet with such eager +interest as a whole. No one was bold enough, however, to make a second +effort. Necessity at times gives birth to a swift capacity. Fresh from +her simple country life, Phyllis found herself still able with +effortless serenity to confound the most hardened boulevarders who +paused to ogle her. Her eyes and lips expressed with ease the most +convincing and absolute indifference to their approaches. A man may +sometimes brave anger; he rarely has courage to combat indifference. So +Phyllis held her own and waited.</p> + +<p>And at last the handkerchief fell. Phyllis felt her own heart almost +stop beating, as she gazed down the room. A man of medium height, dark, +distinguished, was slowly approaching her, exchanging greetings on every +side. His languid eyes fell upon Phyllis. Those who had watched her +previously saw then a change. The cold indifference had vanished from +her face. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> leaned forward as though anxious to attract his +attention. She succeeded easily enough.</p> + +<p>He was almost opposite her table, and her half smile seemed to leave him +but little choice. He touched the back of the chair which fronted hers, +and took off his hat.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked softly.</p> + +<p>"But certainly," she answered. "It is you for whom I have been waiting!"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle flatters me!" he murmured, more than a little astonished.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," she answered. "I have been waiting to ask you what +has become of my brother—Guy Poynton!"</p> + +<p>He drew out the chair and seated himself. His eyes never left her face.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he murmured, "this is most extraordinary!"</p> + +<p>She noticed then that his hands were trembling.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT</h4> + + +<p>"I am asking a great deal of you, George! I know it. But you see how +helpless I am—and read the letter—read it for yourself."</p> + +<p>He passed Phyllis's letter across the small round dining-table. His +guest took it and read it carefully through.</p> + +<p>"How old is the young lady?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-three!"</p> + +<p>"And the boy?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-one."</p> + +<p>"Orphans, I think you said?"</p> + +<p>"Orphans and relationless."</p> + +<p>"Well off?"</p> + +<p>"Moderately."</p> + +<p>Duncombe leaned back in his chair and sipped his port thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"It is an extraordinary situation!" he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary indeed," his friend assented. "But so far as I am +concerned you can see how I am fixed. I am older than either of them, +but I have always been their nearest neighbor and their most intimate +friend. If ever they have needed advice they have come to me for it. If +ever I have needed a day's shooting for myself or a friend I have gone +to them. This Continental tour of theirs we discussed and planned out, +months beforehand. If my misfortune had not come on just when it did I +should have gone with them, and even up to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> last we hoped that I +might be able to go to Paris with Phyllis."</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about the boy," he said.</p> + +<p>His host shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You know what they're like at that age," he remarked. "He was at +Harrow, but he shied at college, and there was no one to insist upon his +going. The pair of them had only a firm of lawyers for guardians. He's +just a good-looking, clean-minded, high-spirited young fellow, full of +beans, and needing the bit every now and then. But, of course, he's no +different from the run of young fellows of his age, and if an adventure +came his way I suppose he'd see it through."</p> + +<p>"And the girl?"</p> + +<p>Andrew Pelham rose from his seat.</p> + +<p>"I will show you her photograph," he said.</p> + +<p>He passed into an inner room divided from the dining-room by curtains. +In a moment or two he reappeared.</p> + +<p>"Here it is!" he said, and laid a picture upon the table.</p> + +<p>Now Duncombe was a young man who prided himself a little on being +unimpressionable. He took up the picture with a certain tolerant +interest and examined it, at first without any special feeling. Yet in a +moment or two he felt himself grateful for those great disfiguring +glasses from behind which his host was temporarily, at least, blind to +all that passed. A curious disturbance seemed to have passed into his +blood. He felt his eyes brighten, and his breath come a little quicker, +as he unconsciously created in his imagination the living<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> presentment +of the girl whose picture he was still holding. Tall she was, and slim, +with a soft, white throat, and long, graceful neck; eyes rather darker +than her complexion warranted, a little narrow, but bright as stars—a +mouth with the divine lines of humor and understanding. It was only a +picture, but a realization of the living image seemed to be creeping in +upon him. He made the excuse of seeking a better light, and moved across +to a distant lamp. He bent over the picture, but it was not the picture +which he saw. He saw the girl herself, and even with the half-formed +thought he saw her expression change. He saw her eyes lit with sorrow +and appeal—he saw her arms outstretched towards him—he seemed even to +hear her soft cry. He knew then what his answer would be to his friend's +prayer. He thought no more of the excuses which he had been building in +his mind; of all the practical suggestions which he had been prepared to +make. Common-sense died away within him. The matter-of-fact man of +thirty was ready to tread in the footsteps of this great predecessor, +and play the modern knight-errant with the whole-heartedness of Don +Quixote himself. He fancied himself by her side, and his heart leaped +with joy of it. He thought no more of abandoned cricket matches and +neglected house parties. A finger of fire had been laid upon his +somewhat torpid flesh and blood.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Andrew asked.</p> + +<p>Duncombe returned to the table, and laid the picture down with a +reluctance which he could scarcely conceal.</p> + +<p>"Very nice photograph," he remarked. "Taken locally?"</p> + +<p>"I took it myself," Andrew answered. "I used to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> be rather great at that +sort of thing before—before my eyes went dicky."</p> + +<p>Duncombe resumed his seat. He helped himself to another glass of wine.</p> + +<p>"I presume," he said, "from the fact that you call yourself their +nearest friend, that the young lady is not engaged?"</p> + +<p>"No," Andrew answered slowly. "She is not engaged."</p> + +<p>Something a little different in his voice caught his friend's attention. +Duncombe eyed him keenly. He was conscious of a sense of apprehension. +He leaned over the table.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean, Andrew<span class="ohdash">—</span>—?" he asked hoarsely. "Do you mean<span class="ohdash">—</span>—?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I mean that," his friend answered quietly. "Nice sort of old fool, +am I not? I'm twelve years older than she is, I'm only moderately well +off and less than moderately good-looking. But after all I'm only human, +and I've seen her grow up from a fresh, charming child into one of God's +wonderful women. Even a gardener, you know, George, loves the roses he +has planted and watched over. I've taught her a little and helped her a +little, and I've watched her cross the borderland."</p> + +<p>"Does she know?"</p> + +<p>Andrew shook his head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that she was beginning to guess. Three months ago I +should have spoken—but my trouble came. I didn't mean to tell you this, +but perhaps it is as well that you should know. You can understand now +what I am suffering. To think of her there alone almost maddens me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe rose suddenly from his seat.</p> + +<p>"Come out into the garden, Andrew," he said. "I feel stifled here."</p> + +<p>His host rose and took Duncombe's arm. They passed out through the +French window on to the gravel path which circled the cedar-shaded lawn. +A shower had fallen barely an hour since, and the air was full of fresh +delicate fragrance. Birds were singing in the dripping trees, blackbirds +were busy in the grass. The perfume from the wet lilac shrubs was a very +dream of sweetness. Andrew pointed across a park which sloped down to +the garden boundary.</p> + +<p>"Up there, amongst the elm trees, George," he said, "can you see a gleam +of white? That is the Hall, just to the left of the rookery."</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I can see it."</p> + +<p>"Guy and she walked down so often after dinner," he said quietly. "I +have stood here and watched them. Sometimes she came alone. What a long +time ago that seems!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe's grip upon his arm tightened.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," he said, "I can't go!"</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. Andrew stood quite still. All around them was +the soft weeping of dripping shrubs. An odorous whiff from the walled +rose-garden floated down the air.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, George! It's a lot to ask you, I know."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that!"</p> + +<p>Andrew turned his head toward his friend. The tone puzzled him.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"No wonder, old fellow! I don't understand myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was another short silence. Andrew stood with his almost sightless +eyes turned upon his friend, and Duncombe was looking up through the elm +trees to the Hall. He was trying to fancy her as she must have appeared +to this man who dwelt alone, walking down the meadow in the evening.</p> + +<p>"No," he repeated softly, "I don't understand myself. You've known me +for a long time, Andrew. You wouldn't write me down as altogether a +sentimental ass, would you?"</p> + +<p>"I should not, George. I should never even use the word 'sentimental' in +connection with you."</p> + +<p>Duncombe turned and faced him squarely. He laid his hands upon his +friend's shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Old man," he said, "here's the truth. So far as a man can be said to +have lost his heart without rhyme or reason, I've lost mine to the girl +of that picture."</p> + +<p>Andrew drew a quick breath.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish, George!" he exclaimed. "Why, you never saw her. You don't know +her!"</p> + +<p>"It is quite true," Duncombe answered. "And yet—I have seen her +picture."</p> + +<p>His friend laughed queerly.</p> + +<p>"You, George Duncombe, in love with a picture. Stony-hearted George, we +used to call you. I can't believe it! I can't take you seriously. It's +all rot, you know, isn't it! It must be rot!"</p> + +<p>"It sounds like it," Duncombe answered quietly. "Put it this way, if you +like. I have seen a picture of the woman whom, if ever I meet, I most +surely shall love. What there is that speaks to me from that picture I +do not know. You say that only love can beget<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> love. Then there is that +in the picture which points beyond. You see, I have talked like this in +an attempt to be honest. You have told me that you care for her. +Therefore I have told you these strange things. Now do you wish me to go +to Paris, for if you say yes I shall surely go!"</p> + +<p>Again Andrew laughed, and this time his mirth sounded more natural.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," he said. "We drank Pontet Canet for dinner. You refused +liqueurs, but I think you drank two glasses of port. George, what has +come over you? What has stirred your slow-moving blood to fancies like +these? Bah! We are playing with one another. Listen! For the sake of our +friendship, George, I beg you to grant me this great favor. Go to Paris +to-morrow and help Phyllis!"</p> + +<p>"You mean it?"</p> + +<p>"God knows I do. If ever I took you seriously, George—if ever I feared +to lose the woman I love—well, I should be a coward for my own sake to +rob her of help when she needs it so greatly. Be her friend, George, and +mine. For the rest the fates must provide!"</p> + +<p>"The fates!" Duncombe answered. "Ay, it seems to me that they have been +busy about my head to-night. It is settled, then. I will go!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>THE VANISHING LADY</h4> + + +<p>At precisely half-past nine on the following evening Duncombe alighted +from his <i>petite voiture</i> in the courtyard of the Grand Hotel, and +making his way into the office engaged a room. And then he asked the +question which a hundred times on the way over he had imagined himself +asking. A man to whom nervousness in any shape was almost unknown, he +found himself only able to control his voice and manner with the +greatest difficulty. In a few moments he might see her.</p> + +<p>"You have a young English lady—Miss Poynton—staying here, I believe," +he said. "Can you tell me if she is in now?"</p> + +<p>The clerk looked at him with sudden interest.</p> + +<p>"Miss Poynton is staying here, sir," he said. "I do not believe that she +is in just now. Will you wait one moment?"</p> + +<p>He disappeared rapidly, and was absent for several minutes. When he +returned he came out into the reception hall.</p> + +<p>"The manager would be much obliged if you would step into his office for +a moment, sir," he said confidentially. "Will you come this way?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe followed him into a small room behind the counter. A +gray-haired man rose from his desk and saluted him courteously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sir George Duncombe, I believe," he said. "Will you kindly take a +seat?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe did as he was asked. All the time he felt that the manager was +scrutinizing him curiously.</p> + +<p>"Your clerk," he said, "told me that you wished to speak to me."</p> + +<p>"Exactly!" the manager answered. "You inquired when you came in for Miss +Poynton. May I ask—are you a friend of hers?"</p> + +<p>"I am here on behalf of her friends," Duncombe answered. "I have letters +to her."</p> + +<p>The manager bowed gravely.</p> + +<p>"I trust," he said, "that you will soon have an opportunity to deliver +them. We are not, of course, responsible in any way for the conduct or +doings of our clients here, but I am bound to say that both the young +people of the name you mention have been the cause of much anxiety to +us."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Guy Poynton," the manager continued, "arrived here about three +weeks ago, and took a room for himself and one for his sister, who was +to arrive on the following day. He went out that same evening, and has +never since returned. Of that fact you are no doubt aware."</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said. "That is why I am here."</p> + +<p>"His sister arrived on the following day, and was naturally very +distressed. We did all that we could for her. We put her in the way of +communicating with the police and the Embassy here, and we gave her +every assistance that was possible. Four nights ago Mademoiselle went +out late. Since then we have seen nothing of her. Mademoiselle also has +disappeared."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe sprang to his feet. He was suddenly pale.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Four nights ago! She went out alone, you +say?"</p> + +<p>"How else? She had no friends here. Once or twice at my suggestion she +had taken one of our guides with her, but she discontinued this as she +fancied that it made her conspicuous. She was all the time going round +to places making inquiries about her brother."</p> + +<p>Duncombe felt himself suddenly precipitated into a new world—a +nightmare of horrors. He was no stranger in the city, and grim +possibilities unfolded themselves before his eyes. Four nights ago!</p> + +<p>"You have sent—to the police?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally. But in Paris—Monsieur must excuse me if I speak plainly—a +disappearance of this sort is never regarded seriously by them. You know +the life here without doubt, Monsieur! Your accent proves that you are +well acquainted with the city. No doubt their conclusions are based upon +direct observation, and in most cases are correct—but it is very +certain that Monsieur the Superintendent regards such disappearances as +these as due to one cause only."</p> + +<p>Duncombe frowned, and something flashed in his eyes which made the +manager very glad that he had not put forward this suggestion on his own +account.</p> + +<p>"With regard to the boy," he said, "this might be likely enough. But +with regard to the young lady it is of course wildly preposterous. I +will go to the police myself," he added, rising.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Sir George," the manager continued. "The disappearance of +the young lady was a source of much trouble to me, and I made all +possible inquiries within the hotel. I found that on the day of her +dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>appearance Mademoiselle had been told by one of the attendants in +the barber's shop, who had waited upon her brother on the night of his +arrival, that he—Monsieur Guy—had asked for the name of some cafés for +supper, and that he had recommended Café Montmartre. Mademoiselle +appears to have decided to go there herself to make inquiries. We have +no doubt that when she left the hotel on the night of her disappearance +it was to there that she went."</p> + +<p>"You have told the police this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have told them," the manager answered dryly. "Here is their +latest report, if you care to see it."</p> + +<p>Duncombe took the little slip of paper and read it hastily.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Disappearance of Mademoiselle Poynton, from England.—We +regret to state no trace has been discovered of the missing +young lady.</p> + +<p class="letter">"(Signed) <span class="smcap">Jules Legarde</span>, Superintendent."</p></div> + +<p>"That was only issued a few hours ago," the manager said.</p> + +<p>"And I thought," Duncombe said bitterly, "that the French police were +the best in the world!"</p> + +<p>The manager said nothing. Duncombe rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>"I shall go myself to the Café Montmartre," he said. The manager bowed.</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad," he said, "to divest myself of any further +responsibility in this matter. It has been a source of much anxiety to +the directors as well as myself."</p> + +<p>Duncombe walked out of the room, and putting on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> his coat again called +for a <i>petite voiture</i>. He gave the man the address in the Rue St. +Honoré and was driven to a block of flats there over some shops.</p> + +<p>"Is Monsieur Spencer in?" he asked the concierge. He was directed to the +first floor. An English man-servant admitted him, and a few moments +later he was shaking hands with a man who was seated before a table +covered with loose sheets of paper.</p> + +<p>"Duncombe, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. +"Why, I thought that you had shaken the dust of the city from your feet +forever, and turned country squire. Sit down! What will you have?"</p> + +<p>"First of all, am I disturbing you?"</p> + +<p>Spencer shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I've no Press work to-night," he answered. "I've a clear hour to give +you at any rate. When did you come?"</p> + +<p>"Two-twenty from Charing Cross," Duncombe answered. "I can't tell you +how thankful I am to find you in, Spencer. I'm over on a very serious +matter, and I want your advice."</p> + +<p>Spencer touched the bell. Cigars and cigarettes, whisky and soda, +appeared as though by magic.</p> + +<p>"Now help yourself and go ahead, old chap," his host declared. "I'm a +good listener."</p> + +<p>He proved himself so, sitting with half-closed eyes and an air of close +attention until he had heard the whole story. He did not once interrupt, +but when Duncombe had finished he asked a question.</p> + +<p>"What did you say was the name of this café where the boy had +disappeared?"</p> + +<p>"Café Montmartre."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>Spencer sat up in his chair. His expression had changed.</p> + +<p>"The devil!" he murmured softly.</p> + +<p>"You know the place?"</p> + +<p>"Very well. It has an extraordinary reputation. I am sorry to say it, +Duncombe, but it is a very bad place for your friend to have disappeared +from."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place it is the resort of a good many of the most +dangerous people in Europe—people who play the game through to the end. +It is a perfect hot-bed of political intrigue, and it is under police +protection."</p> + +<p>"Police protection! A place like that!" Duncombe exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Not as you and I understand it, perhaps," Spencer explained. "There is +no Scotland Yard extending a protecting arm over the place, and that +sort of thing. But the place is haunted by spies, and there are +intrigues carried on there in which the secret service police often take +a hand. In return it is generally very hard to get to the bottom of any +disappearance or even robbery there through the usual channels. To the +casual visitor, and of course it attracts thousands from its reputation, +it presents no more dangers perhaps than the ordinary night café of its +sort. But I could think of a dozen men in Paris to-day, who, if they +entered it, I honestly believe would never be seen again."</p> + +<p>Spencer was exaggerating, Duncombe murmured to himself. He was a +newspaper correspondent, and he saw these things with the halo of +melodrama around them. And yet—four nights ago. His face was white and +haggard.</p> + +<p>"The boy," he said, "could have been no more than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> an ordinary visitor. +He had no great sum of money with him, he had no secrets, he did not +even speak the language. Surely he would have been too small fry for the +intriguers of such a place!"</p> + +<p>"One would think so," Spencer answered musingly. "You are sure that he +was only what you say?"</p> + +<p>"He was barely twenty-one," Duncombe answered, "and he had never been +out of England before."</p> + +<p>"What about the girl?"</p> + +<p>"She is two years older. It was her first visit to Paris." Spencer +nodded.</p> + +<p>"The disappearance of the boy is of course the riddle," he remarked. "If +you solve that you arrive also at his sister's whereabouts. Upon my +word, it is a poser. If it had been the boy alone—well, one could +understand. The most beautiful ladies in Paris are at the Montmartre. No +one is admitted who is not what they consider—chic! The great dancers +and actresses are given handsome presents to show themselves there. On a +representative evening it is probably the most brilliant little roomful +in Europe. The boy of course might have lost his head easily enough, and +then been ashamed to face his sister. But when you tell me of her +disappearance, too, you confound me utterly. Is she good-looking?"</p> + +<p>"Very!"</p> + +<p>"She would go there, of course, asking for her brother," Spencer +continued thoughtfully. "An utterly absurd thing to do, but no doubt she +did, and—look here, Duncombe, I tell you what I'll do. I have my own +two news-grabbers at hand, and nothing particular for them to do this +evening. I'll send them up to the Café Montmartre."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's awfully good of you, Spencer. I was going myself," Duncombe said, +a little doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"You idiot!" his friend said cheerfully, yet with a certain emphasis. +"English from your hair to your boots, you'd go in there and attempt to +pump people who have been playing the game all their lives, and who +would give you exactly what information suited their books. They'd know +what you were there for, the moment you opened your mouth. Honestly, +what manner of good do you think that you could do? You'd learn what +they chose to tell you. If there's really anything serious behind all +this, do you suppose it would be the truth?"</p> + +<p>"You're quite right, I suppose," Duncombe admitted, "but it seems +beastly to be doing nothing."</p> + +<p>"Better be doing nothing than doing harm!" Spencer declared. "Look round +the other cafés and the boulevards. And come here at eleven to-morrow +morning. We'll breakfast together at Paillard's."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE</h4> + + +<p>Spencer wrote out his luncheon with the extreme care of the man to whom +eating has passed to its proper place amongst the arts, and left to +Duncombe the momentous question of red wine or white. Finally, he leaned +back in his chair, and looked thoughtfully across at his companion.</p> + +<p>"Sir George," he said, "you have placed me in a very painful position."</p> + +<p>Duncombe glanced up from his <i>hors d'œuvre</i>.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I will explain," Spencer continued. "You came to me last night with a +story in which I hope that I showed a reasonable amount of interest, but +in which, as a matter of fact, I was not interested at all. Girls and +boys who come to Paris for the first time in their lives unattended, and +find their way to the Café Montmartre, and such places, generally end up +in the same place. It would have sounded brutal if I had added to your +distress last night by talking like this, so I determined to put you in +the way of finding out for yourself. I sent two of my most successful +news-scouts to that place last night, and I had not the slightest doubt +as to the nature of the information which they would bring back. It +turns out that I was mistaken."</p> + +<p>"What did they discover?" Duncombe asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe's face fell, but he looked a little puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Nothing? I don't understand. They must have heard that they had been +there anyhow."</p> + +<p>"They discovered nothing. You do not understand the significance of +this. I do! It means that I was mistaken for one thing. Their +disappearance has more in it than the usual significance. Evil may have +come to them, but not the ordinary sort of evil. Listen! You say that +the police have disappointed you in having discovered nothing. That is +no longer extraordinary to me. The police, or those who stand behind +them, are interested in this case, and in the withholding of information +concerning it."</p> + +<p>"You are talking riddles to me, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "Do you +mean that the police in Paris may become the hired tools of +malefactors?"</p> + +<p>"Not altogether that," Spencer said, waving aside a dish presented +before him by the head waiter himself with a gesture of approval. "Not +necessarily malefactors. But there are other powers to be taken into +consideration, and most unaccountably your two friends are in deeper +water than your story led me to expect. Now, not another question, +please, until you have tried that sauce. Absolute silence, if you +please, for at least three or four minutes."</p> + +<p>Duncombe obeyed with an ill grace. He had little curiosity as to its +flavor, and a very small appetite at all with the conversation in its +present position. He waited for the stipulated time, however, and then +leaned once more across the table.</p> + +<p>"Spencer!"</p> + +<p>"First I must have your judgment upon the sauce. Did you find enough +mussels?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Damn the sauce!" Duncombe answered. "Forgive me, Spencer, but this +affair is, after all, a serious one to me. You say that your two scouts, +as you call them, discovered nothing. Well, they had only one evening at +it. Will they try again in other directions? Can I engage them to work +for me? Money is absolutely no object."</p> + +<p>Spencer shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Duncombe," he said, "you're going to think me a poor sort of friend, +but the truth is best. You must not count upon me any more. I cannot +lift even my little finger to help you. I can only give you advice if +you want it."</p> + +<p>"And that?"</p> + +<p>"Go back to England to-morrow. Chuck it altogether. You are up against +too big a combination. You can do no one any good. You are a great deal +more likely to come to harm yourself."</p> + +<p>Duncombe was quite quiet for several moments. When he spoke again his +manner had a new stiffness.</p> + +<p>"You have surprised me a good deal, I must confess, Spencer. We will +abandon the subject."</p> + +<p>Spencer shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I know how you're feeling, old chap," he said. "I can't help it. You +understand my position here. I write a daily letter for the best paying +and most generous newspaper in the world, and it is absolutely necessary +that I keep hand in glove with the people in high places here. My +position absolutely demands it, and my duty to my chief necessitates my +putting all personal feeling on one side in a case like this when a +conflict arises."</p> + +<p>"But where," Duncombe asked, "does the conflict arise?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here!" Spencer answered. "I received a note this morning from a great +personage in this country to whom I am under more obligation than any +other breathing man, requesting me to refrain from making any further +inquiries or assisting any one else to make them in this matter. I can +assure you that I was thunderstruck, but the note is in my pocket at the +present moment."</p> + +<p>"Does it mention them by name?"</p> + +<p>"The exact words are," Spencer answered, "'respecting the reported +disappearance of the young Englishman, Mr. Guy Poynton, and his sister.' +This will just show you how much you have to hope for from the police, +for the person whose signature is at the foot of that note could command +the implicit obedience of the whole system."</p> + +<p>Duncombe's cheeks were a little flushed. He was British to the backbone, +and his obstinacy was being stirred.</p> + +<p>"The more reason," he said quietly, "so far as I can see, that I should +continue my independent efforts with such help as I can secure. This +girl and boy are fellow country-people, and I haven't any intention of +leaving them in the clutches of any brutal gang of Frenchmen into whose +hands they may have got. I shall go on doing what I can, Spencer."</p> + +<p>The journalist shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I can't help sympathizing with you, Duncombe," he said, "but keep +reasonable. You know your Paris well enough to understand that you +haven't a thousand to one chance. Besides, Frenchmen are not brutal. If +the boy got into a scrape, it was probably his own fault."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And the girl? What of her? Am I to leave her to the tender mercies of +whatever particular crew of blackguards may have got her into their +power?"</p> + +<p>"You are needlessly melodramatic," Spencer answered. "I will admit, of +course, that her position may be an unfortunate one, but the personage +whom I have the honor to call my friend does not often protect +blackguards. Be reasonable, Duncombe! These young people are not +relatives of yours, are they?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Nor very old friends? The young lady, for instance?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe looked up, and his face was set in grim and dogged lines. He +felt like a man who was nailing his colors to the mast.</p> + +<p>"The young lady," he said, "is, I pray Heaven, my future wife!"</p> + +<p>Spencer was honestly amazed, and a little shocked.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Duncombe," he said. "I had no idea—though perhaps I ought +to have guessed."</p> + +<p>They went on with their luncheon in silence for some time, except for a +few general remarks. But after the coffee had been brought and the +cigarettes were alight, Spencer leaned once more across the table.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Duncombe, what you mean to do."</p> + +<p>"I shall go to the Café Montmartre myself to-night. At such a place +there must be hangers-on and parasites who see something of the game. I +shall try to come into touch with them. I am rich enough to outbid the +others who exact their silence."</p> + +<p>"You must be rich enough to buy their lives then," Spencer answered +gravely, "for if you do succeed in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> tempting any one to betray the inner +happenings of that place on which the seal of silence has been put, you +will hear of them in the Morgue before a fortnight has passed."</p> + +<p>"They must take their risk," Duncombe said coldly. "I am going to stuff +my pockets with money to-night, and I shall bid high. I shall leave word +at the hotel where I am going. If anything happens to me there—well, I +don't think the Café Montmartre will flourish afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Duncombe," his friend said gravely, "nothing will happen to you at the +Café Montmartre. Nothing ever does happen to any one there. You remember +poor De Laurson?"</p> + +<p>"Quite well. He was stabbed by a girl in the Rue Pigalle."</p> + +<p>"He was stabbed in the Café Montmartre, but his body was found in the +Rue Pigalle. Then there was the Vicomte de Sauvinac."</p> + +<p>"He was found dead in his study—poisoned."</p> + +<p>"He was found there—yes, but the poison was given to him in the Café +Montmartre, and it was there that he died. I am behind the scenes in +some of these matters, but I know enough to hold my tongue, or my London +letter wouldn't be worth a pound a week. I am giving myself away to you +now, Duncombe. I am risking a position which it has taken me twenty +years to secure. I've got to tell you these things, and you must do as I +tell you. Go back to London!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe laughed as he rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Not though the Vicomte's fate is to be mine to-night," he answered. +"The worse hell this place is the worse the crew it must shelter. I +should never hold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> my head up again if I sneaked off home and left the +girl in their hands. I don't see how you can even suggest it."</p> + +<p>"Only because you can't do the least good," Spencer answered. "And +besides, don't run away with a false impression. The place is dangerous +only for certain people. The authorities don't protect murderers or +thieves except under special circumstances. The Vicomte's murderer and +De Laurson's were brought to justice. Only they keep the name of the +place out of it always. Tourists in shoals visit it, and visit safely +every evening. They pay fancy prices for what they have, but I think +they get their money's worth. But for certain classes of people it is +the decoy house of Europe. Foreign spies have babbled away their secrets +there, and the greatest criminals of the world have whispered away their +lives to some fair daughter of Judas at those tables. I, who am behind +the scenes, tell you these things, Duncombe."</p> + +<p>Duncombe smiled.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," he said, "you may add another victim to your chamber of +horrors!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>DUNCOMBE'S "HOLD-UP"</h4> + + +<p>The amber wine fell in a little wavering stream from his upraised glass +on to the table-cloth below. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at +his three guests with a fatuous smile. The girl in blue, with the +dazzlingly fair hair and wonderful complexion, steadied his hand and +exchanged a meaning look with the man who sat opposite. Surely the poor +fool was ready for the plucking? But Madame, who sat beside her, frowned +upon them both. She had seen things which had puzzled her. She signed to +them to wait.</p> + +<p>She leaned over and flashed her great black eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur enjoys himself like this every night in Paris?"</p> + +<p>A soft, a very seductive, voice. The woman who envied her success +compared it to the purring of a cat. Men as a rule found no fault with +it, especially those who heard it for the first time.</p> + +<p>Duncombe set down his glass, now almost empty. He looked from the stain +on the table-cloth into the eyes of Madame, and again she thought them +very unlike the eyes of a drunken man.</p> + +<p>"Why not? It's the one city in the world to enjoy one's self in. +Half-past four, and here we are as jolly as anything. Chucked out of +everywhere in London at half-past twelve. 'Time, gentlemen, please!'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +And out go the lights. Jove, I wonder what they'd think of this at the +Continental! Let's—let's have another bottle."</p> + +<p>The fair-haired girl—Flossie to her friends, Mademoiselle Mermillon +until you had been introduced—whispered in his ear. He shook his head +vaguely. She had her arm round his neck. He removed it gently.</p> + +<p>"We'll have another here first anyhow," he declared. "Hi, Garçon! Ring +the bell, there's a good chap, Monsieur—dash it, I've forgotten your +name. No, don't move. I'll do it myself."</p> + +<p>He rose and staggered towards the door.</p> + +<p>"The bell isn't that way, Monsieur," Madame exclaimed. "It is to the +right. Louis, quick!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis sprang to his feet. There was a queer grating little +sound, followed by a sharp click. Duncombe had swung round and faced +them. He had turned the key in the door, and was calmly pocketing it. +The hand which held that small shining revolver was certainly not the +hand of a drunken man.</p> + +<p>They all three looked at him in wonder—Madame, Monsieur Louis, and +Mademoiselle Flossie. The dark eyebrows of Madame almost met, and her +eyes were full of the promise of evil things. Monsieur Louis, cowering +back from that steadily pointed revolver, was white with the inherited +cowardice of the degenerate. Flossie, who had drunk more wine than any +of them, was trying to look as though it were a joke. Duncombe, with his +disordered evening clothes, his stained shirt-front and errant tie, was +master of the situation. He came and stood a few feet away from them. +His blundering French accent and slow choice of words had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> departed. He +spoke to them without hesitation, and his French was almost as good as +their own.</p> + +<p>"I want you to keep your places," he said, "and listen to me for a few +minutes. I can assure you I am neither mad nor drunk. I have a few +questions to ask you, and if your answers are satisfactory you may yet +find my acquaintance as profitable as though I had been the pigeon I +seemed. Keep your seat, Monsieur le Baron!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis, who had half risen, sat down again hastily. They all +watched him from their places around the table. It was Madame whom he +addressed more directly—Madame with the jet black hair and golden +earrings, the pale cheeks and scarlet lips.</p> + +<p>"I invited you into a private room here," he said, "because what I have +said to you three is between ourselves alone. You came, I presume, +because it promised to be profitable. All that I want from you is +information. And for that I am willing to pay."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis interposed. He stroked his little black moustache with a +much beringed hand. With the other he gesticulated.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur talks reasonably," he declared, "but why all this mystery? Why +this feigned drunkenness? Why the show of arms? If we can help +Monsieur—it is an affair of pleasure, and if he chooses to make a +present to these ladies in return—why, no doubt they will be charmed. +Me, I presume, he has no intention to insult. Permit me, Monsieur."</p> + +<p>He drew a card from a small gold case, and presented it to Duncombe, who +accepted it with a little bow.</p> + +<p>"If I can aid you in any way," Monsieur Louis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> continued, "I am entirely +at your service, but I require first of all that in addressing us you +recognize my position as a French nobleman, who amuses himself in this +place as you, Monsieur, also do, and also that you unlock that door."</p> + +<p>Duncombe smiled quietly.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Baron," he said, "I think that we are very well as we +are—secure from interruption. I have sent others here on this same +mission, and they did not succeed. Both of these ladies, I believe, have +been approached for the information I desire, and they have thought well +to withhold it. I have set my heart upon success this time, and I wish +to secure at least the opportunity of being heard."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"There are secrets," he murmured; "affairs of honor<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>Duncombe interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Louis," he said, "I am not so young as I look, and I have +lived in Paris. I know that this café, for all its outward smartness, +bears perhaps the worst reputation in Europe. I have heard of you three +many times—the 'Trinity from Hell,' they call you sometimes, I think. +You see I know where I am and the risk I run. Even this little room has +its secrets—a murder or two, I believe, and other things—secrets which +I don't suppose there is gold enough in France to buy. Well, I don't +want to buy them. You can go your way so far as I am concerned. There is +only one thing I want to know from you, and for that I offer you—the +ladies, of course, I mean—five thousand francs each."</p> + +<p>"Five thousand francs!" Madame murmured.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Flossie said nothing, but her eyes shone.</p> + +<p>"The question, Monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"What has become of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton, the young English +lady?"</p> + +<p>The eyes of Madame seemed to narrow for a moment. Monsieur Louis lit a +cigarette with fingers which shook a little, and the fair face of +Mademoiselle Flossie was suddenly white. Then they all three looked at +one another.</p> + +<p>"Do you know whom Monsieur may mean?"</p> + +<p>"Not I!"</p> + +<p>"An English girl! There are none come here."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle Poynton! It is a name unheard of."</p> + +<p>The young Englishman smiled upon them grimly.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "you have in your satchel—don't move, if you +please—a roll of French notes—indeed you must not move—very cleverly +abstracted from my pocket by my charming young companion, Mademoiselle +Flossie here. Now I have at least half a dozen friends in the café below +whom I could summon here by touching that bell, and the identification +of those notes would be a perfectly simple matter. Shall I do it? Or +will you earn another roll by giving me the information I seek?"</p> + +<p>Madame leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear. Monsieur Louis +nodded.</p> + +<p>"Tell him," Mademoiselle Flossie murmured tremulously. "Monsieur will +not break faith with us. He will not let it be known from whence he +gained the knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Agreed!" the young Englishman declared. "Go on."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Madame held up her hand.</p> + +<p>"I," she said, "will tell Monsieur what we know."</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet and leaned over the table. The blue-black sequins +on her dress glittered and shone in the dull light. Her figure was +superb, her neck and bosom a flawless white. The Englishman, however, +was unmoved. His keen gray eyes were fixed upon her, but the revolver +remained in his right hand. From downstairs they could hear the music of +violins, the rattle of glasses, the hum of voices and laughter. Madame +frowned slightly as she marked the young Englishman's alertness. She was +used to victims, and his imperturbability annoyed her.</p> + +<p>"I trust," she said, "that you will remember, Monsieur, that I am +breaking a pledged word. If Monsieur the Director here knew that I was +telling you of Mademoiselle Poynton there would be much trouble for all +of us."</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle came here first about a month or perhaps six weeks ago," +she said. "From that time on she was a regular visitor. She came alone. +She spoke to no one. She was always a mystery. She was very handsomely +dressed—for an English girl, quite chic! She spent money, and Monsieur +Albert the director kept always a table for her. As time went on we +began to feel the mystery. We asked ourselves for what purpose does she +come here? For what, indeed!</p> + +<p>"One night Monsieur Albert, who was always besieged with questions about +her, took too much wine. I have seen that happen with him but +once—since that time never. He told us about Mademoiselle. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> made +some inquiries about her brother, and Monsieur Albert was able to tell +her his whereabouts. After that he scarcely expected to see her again, +but the next night she was here also.</p> + +<p>"Then Monsieur Albert learned more. Mademoiselle was in a small way an +artist, and she had conceived the idea of painting a picture of the +café—an early morning picture of effects, Monsieur understands. There +was to be the morning sunlight streaming across the supper-tables, the +faces of all of us aged and haggard. Monsieur Louis here, without doubt, +a very child of the devil! Oh, a very moral picture, Monsieur. It was to +convert us all. Monsieur Albert declared that he would arrange to have +it here on exhibition, and we should all mend our ways. Monsieur knew +perhaps that the young lady was an artist?"</p> + +<p>The question was flashed suddenly upon him as though the intention was +to take him by surprise. Duncombe, however, remained unmoved.</p> + +<p>"I am here, Madame, to ask, not to answer, questions," he said. "Will +you kindly proceed? I am greatly interested."</p> + +<p>Madame put her hand to her throat for a moment as though to loosen her +necklace. She had not the appearance of being greatly in love with her +questioner.</p> + +<p>"There came a night," she continued, "when Mademoiselle broke through +her rule. A man came in and sat at her table. His name was the Vicomte +D'Aubarde, and he was known to most of us, though to the young lady he +appeared to be a stranger. They talked earnestly for an hour or more. +When she left—he accompanied her!"</p> + +<p>The Englishman had grown paler. Madame saw it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> and smiled. Her lover +perhaps! It was good to make him suffer.</p> + +<p>"Flossie here," she continued, "was outside, and saw them depart. They +drove off together in the Vicomte's coupé. They were apparently on the +best of terms. Since then we have not seen her again—nor the Vicomte. +Monsieur knows now as much as we know."</p> + +<p>"And how long ago is that?" Duncombe asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"A week to-night," Madame replied.</p> + +<p>Duncombe laid down a roll of notes upon the table.</p> + +<p>"I wish," he said, "to prove to you that I am in earnest. I am therefore +going to pay you the amount I promised, although I am perfectly well +aware that the story of Madame is—false!"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur!"</p> + +<p>"As I remarked," he repeated, "false. Now listen to me. I want to tempt +one of you, I don't care which, to break through this thieves' compact +of yours. I have paid a thousand francs for lies—I will pay ten +thousand francs for truth! Ten thousand francs for the present +whereabouts of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton!"</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Flossie looked up at him quickly. Then she glanced +furtively at Madame, and the flash of Madame's eyes was like lightning +upon blue steel. Duncombe moved towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I will pay the bill downstairs," he said. "Good night! Think over what +I have said. Ten thousand francs!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis stood up and bowed stiffly. Made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>moiselle Flossie +ventured to throw him a kiss. Madame smiled inscrutably.</p> + +<p>The door closed. They heard him go downstairs. Madame picked up his card +and read aloud.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Sir George Duncombe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Risley Hall,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">Norfolk.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Grand Hotel, Paris.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"If one could only," Madame murmured, "tell him the truth, collect the +money—and<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"And," Flossie murmured, half fearfully.</p> + +<p>Monsieur le Baron smiled!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>THE STORY OF A CALL</h4> + + +<p>Mademoiselle Mermillon was not warmly welcomed at the Grand Hotel. The +porter believed that Sir George Duncombe was out. He would inquire, if +Mademoiselle would wait, but he did not usher her into the drawing-room, +as would have been his duty in an ordinary case, or even ask her to take +a seat.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Mermillon was of the order of young person who resents, but +this afternoon she was far too nervous. During the porter's temporary +absence she started at every footstep, and scrutinized anxiously every +passer-by. Often she looked behind her through the glass doors into the +street. When at last he reappeared alone her disappointment was obvious.</p> + +<p>"Sir George Duncombe is out, Mademoiselle," he announced. "Will you be +pleased to leave a message, or your name?"</p> + +<p>"You do not know how long he will be?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Sir George left no word," the man answered. "He has been out since +before <i>déjeuner</i>."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle decided to leave a note. The porter supplied her with +notepaper and envelopes. She sat down at a small round table, and once +more glanced furtively around. Convinced that she was not being watched, +she hastily wrote a few lines, sealed and addressed the envelope, and +handed it to the porter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You will give this to Sir George immediately he returns," she begged. +"It is important."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur shall have it without doubt, Mademoiselle," the man answered.</p> + +<p>She pulled down her veil and left the place hurriedly. When she reached +the boulevard she slackened her pace, and drew a little breath of +relief.</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand francs!" she murmured to herself. "If I took that with me +they would receive me at home. I might start all over again. It is worth +a little risk. Heavens, how nervous I am!"</p> + +<p>She entered a café and drank <i>à petit verre</i>. As she set her glass down +a man looked at her over the top of his newspaper. She tried to smile, +but her heart was beating, and she was sick with fear.</p> + +<p>"What a fool I am!" she muttered. "It is a stranger, too. If he were one +of Gustav's lot I should know him."</p> + +<p>She returned his smile, and he came and sat down beside her. They had +another liqueur. Later they left the place together.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Duncombe returned to his hotel tired out after a disappointing day spent +in making fruitless inquiries in various parts of Paris. He had learnt +nothing. He seemed as far off the truth as ever. He opened the note +which the porter handed him listlessly enough. Afterwards, however, it +was different. This is what he read:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I can tell you about the young English lady if you will +promise upon your honor that you will not betray me. I dare +not come here again. I dare not even speak<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> to you while the +others are about. Go to the Café Sylvain to-night and order +dinner in a private room. I will come at half-past +seven.—<span class="smcap">Flossie</span>."</p></div> + +<p>Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief. At last then he was to know +something. He was very English, a bad amateur detective, and very weary +of his task. Nothing but his intense interest in the girl herself—an +interest which seemed to have upset the whole tenor of his life—would +have kept him here plodding so relentlessly away at a task which seemed +daily to present more difficulties and complications. Yet so absorbed +had he become that the ordinary duties and pleasures which made up the +routine of his life scarcely ever entered into his mind. There had been +men coming down to shoot, whom in an ordinary way he would not have +dreamed of putting off—a cricket match which had been postponed until +his return, and which he had completely forgotten. Paris had nothing in +the shape of amusement to offer him in place of these things, yet in his +own mind these things were as if they had not been. Every interest and +energy of his life was concentrated upon the one simple object of his +search.</p> + +<p>He gave the man half a crown, and walked to the lift whistling. The +porter shook his head, and Duncombe receded considerably in his +estimation, notwithstanding the tip. He considered Mademoiselle Flossie +a little obvious for a gentleman of Duncombe's class. Duncombe treated +himself to a cocktail and a cigarette as he changed his clothes. It was +positively the first gleam of hope he had had. And then suddenly he +remembered Spencer's warning, and he became grave.</p> + +<p>He was at the Café Sylvain early. He ordered dinner,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> gave elaborate +instructions about a young lady when she arrived, and with a glass of +absinthe and another cigarette sat down to wait. At a quarter to eight +he began to get restless. He summoned the waiter again, and gave a more +detailed description of Mademoiselle Flossie. The waiter was regretful +but positive. No young lady of any description had arrived expecting to +meet a gentleman in a private room. Duncombe tried him with her name. +But yes, Mademoiselle Mermillon was exceedingly well known there! He +would give orders that she should be shown up immediately she arrived. +It would be soon, without doubt.</p> + +<p>At a quarter-past eight Duncombe dined alone, too disappointed to resent +the waiter's sympathetic attitude. At nine o'clock he returned to the +hotel on the chance that a message might have been sent there. He read +the English newspapers, and wrote letters until midnight. Then he +ordered a carriage and drove to the Café Montmartre.</p> + +<p>He mounted the stairs and passed through the little bar which led into +the supper-room. Monsieur Albert came forward with a low bow.</p> + +<p>"You can find me a table, I suppose?" Duncombe remarked, looking round. +"Where shall I sit?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly. His hands were outstretched, his +manner sad, but resigned.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry, Monsieur, but to-night every place is taken. I have +had to turn others away already," he declared. "A thousand regrets."</p> + +<p>Duncombe looked at him astonished. The place was more than half empty.</p> + +<p>"Surely you can find me a small table somewhere," he said. "I was here +last evening, you know. If it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> because I am alone I will order supper +for two and a magnum of wine."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Albert was immovable. He remembered Duncombe well, and he was +proud of his patronage, but to-night it was impossible to offer him a +table. Duncombe began to be annoyed.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, "I will stay in the bar. You can't turn me out of +there, can you?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Albert was evasive. He desired Monsieur Duncombe to be amused, +and the people who remained in the bar—well, it was not possible to get +rid of them, but they were not fitting company for him.</p> + +<p>"There is the Café Mazarin," he added confidentially, "a few steps only +from here—a most amusing place. The most wonderful ladies there, too, +very chic, and crowded every night! Monsieur should really try it. The +commissionaire would direct him—a few yards only."</p> + +<p>"Much obliged to you," Duncombe answered, turning on his heel. "I may +look in there presently."</p> + +<p>He seated himself at a small round table and ordered a drink. The people +here were of a slightly different class from those who had the <i>entrée</i> +to the supper-room and were mostly crowded round the bar itself. At a +small desk within a few feet of him a middle-aged woman with a cold, +hard face sat with a book of account before her and a pile of bills. +There was something almost Sphynx-like about her appearance. She never +spoke. Her expression never changed. Once their eyes met. She looked at +him steadfastly, but said nothing. The girl behind the bar also took +note of him. She was very tall and slim, absolutely colorless, and with +coils of fair hair drawn tightly back from her fore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>head. She was never +without a cigarette, lighting a fresh one always from its predecessor, +talking all the while unceasingly, but without the slightest change of +expression. Once she waved the men and girls who stood talking to her on +one side, and Duncombe fancied that it was because she desired a better +view of him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he was startled by a voice close at hand. He looked up. The +woman at the desk was speaking to him.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur would be well advised," she said, "if he departed."</p> + +<p>Duncombe looked at her in amazement. She was writing rapidly in her +book, and her eyes were fixed upon her work. If he had not actually +heard her, it would have been hard to believe that she had spoken.</p> + +<p>"But why, Madame?" he asked. "Why should I go? I am in no one's way. I +can pay for what I have."</p> + +<p>She dipped her pen in the ink.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of Monsieur or his business," she said, still without +even glancing towards him, "but I know that Monsieur Albert does not +wish him to remain."</p> + +<p>"The devil take Monsieur Albert!" Duncombe answered angrily. "I am +waiting to speak to some one who comes here regularly, and I shall stay +until she comes."</p> + +<p>The woman wrote steadily for a moment. Then she blotted the page on +which she had been writing, and raising her head, looked at him.</p> + +<p>"It is no affair of mine," she said, "but Monsieur Albert has sent for +the police. They may say that you have had too much wine, or that you +owe money. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> either case you will be removed. The police will not +listen to you. Monsieur Albert has special discretion. It is no affair +of mine," she repeated, "but if I were Monsieur I would go."</p> + +<p>Duncombe rose slowly to his feet, and summoning a waiter paid his bill. +The man produced a second one, dated a few days back, for a large +amount.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "I do not owe you anything."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur was here with a party last Thursday night," he said glibly. +"He promised to pay the next time. I will call the manager."</p> + +<p>Duncombe tore the bill in half and turned away. He bowed to the lady at +the desk.</p> + +<p>"I see that you were right," he said. "I will leave."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is wise," she answered without looking up.</p> + +<p>He left the café without speaking to any one further. When he reached +the pavement he slipped a five-franc piece into the hand of the tall +commissionaire.</p> + +<p>"You know most of the young ladies who come here, I suppose?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"But certainly!" the man answered with a smile, "Monsieur desires?"</p> + +<p>"I want the address of a young lady named Mermillon—Flossie, I think +they call her," Duncombe said.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-one, Rue Pigalle," the man answered promptly. "But she should be +here within an hour. She never misses."</p> + +<p>Duncombe thanked him, and hailed a carriage.</p> + +<p>"Shall I give Mademoiselle any message?" the man asked confidentially.</p> + +<p>"I am going to call for her," Duncombe answered. "If I do not find her I +will return."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>To drive to the Rue Pigalle was an affair of five minutes only. Duncombe +climbed a couple of flights of narrow stairs, pushed open a swing gate, +and found himself in front of an office, in which an elderly woman sat +reading.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me where to find Mademoiselle Mermillon?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"Next floor; first door on the left," the woman answered. "Mademoiselle +is not often in at this hour, though."</p> + +<p>Duncombe thanked her, and climbed another flight of stairs. He had to +strike a match to look for a bell or knocker, and then found neither. He +knocked on the door with his knuckles. There was no reply. He was on the +point of departure, when he noticed that the door was ajar. After a +moment's hesitation he pushed it open.</p> + +<p>He found himself in a narrow passage, with dresses and other articles of +apparel hanging from a row of pegs on the wall. The place was in +complete darkness. He struck another match. At the end of the passage +was an inner door, also ajar. He rapped upon it, and finally pushed it +open. Just then his match went out!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>SPENCER'S SURPRISE</h4> + + +<p>Duncombe had the nerves and temperament of the young Englishman of his +class, whose life is mostly spent out of doors, and who has been an +athlete all his days. But nevertheless at that moment he was afraid. +Something in the stillness of the room oppressed him. He could see +nothing, hear nothing except the clock ticking upon the mantlepiece. And +yet he was afraid.</p> + +<p>He fumbled desperately in his pocket for his matchbox. When he had found +it he discovered that it was empty. With a sense of positive relief he +backed out of the room and hastily descended the stairs. The old lady +was still in her sitting-room reading the paper. She set it down at his +entrance, and looked at him over the top of her spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, Madame," he said, removing his hat, "I find the rooms of +Mademoiselle are open, but all is in darkness. I cannot make any one +hear."</p> + +<p>Madame took up her paper.</p> + +<p>"Then Mademoiselle is probably out," she declared. "It is generally so +at this hour. Monsieur can leave his name."</p> + +<p>"But the doors are all open!" Duncombe said.</p> + +<p>"I go presently and close them," Madame answered. "The careless hussy!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe produced a small piece of gold. Madame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> laid down the paper at +once. She looked at it as though ready to snatch it from his hand.</p> + +<p>"Madame would oblige me very much if she would ascend with me at once," +Duncombe said. "I should like to make quite sure whether the young lady +is there or not."</p> + +<p>Madame was on her feet with remarkable celerity. She accepted the coin +and carefully placed it in a purse drawn from somewhere amongst the +folds of her voluminous skirts.</p> + +<p>"We shall need a candle," Duncombe reminded her.</p> + +<p>She lit a lamp, talking all the while.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is very generous," she declared. "Mademoiselle Flossie is a +charming young lady. No wonder she has many friends. There was one," she +continued, "who came here with her this afternoon—but he left almost at +once," she added hastily, aware of her indiscretion. "Ah, these stairs! +They grow steeper for one so corpulent. At last!"</p> + +<p>She pushed open the door and went sideways down the narrow passage. +Directly they had entered it they had a view of the room beyond. Madame +cried out, and Duncombe felt all his vague fears spring into a terrified +apprehension of actual evil.</p> + +<p>The curtain before the window had been hastily drawn, but the lamp which +the portress carried was sufficient feebly to illuminate the room. The +table-cloth and a broken vase lay upon the floor. A few feet off was an +overturned chair. Upon the canopied bed lay a prostrate figure, the head +thrown back at an unnatural angle, the eyes open but glazed. Duncombe +dared do no more than cast one single horrified glance at it. Madame set +down the lamp upon the table, and made the room hideous with shrieks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good God!" she cried. "It is the little one who is dead!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe himself fetched in the gendarmes, and waited whilst they took +voluminous notes of the occurrence. The murder seemed to them and to +Madame to be one of a very common class. The assassin had left no clue +whatever behind him. The poor girl's rings had been torn from her +fingers, her little stock of jewellery ransacked, her purse was empty, +everything of value had been taken. There was not a shred of evidence +against any one. Madame, who had seen the man upon the stairs, could +only say that he was short, and wore a black felt hat. The officer who +took down what they had to say shrugged his shoulders as he replaced the +book in his pocket. The affair would pass most certainly, he feared, +into the long list of undiscoverable crimes.</p> + +<p>Duncombe left his name and address, and enough money for the funeral. +Then he returned to his hotel. This was the end, then, of the clue from +which he had hoped so much. Spencer's warning as to what would surely +happen to those whom he might succeed in bribing came back into his mind +with sickening insistence. In a measure he was responsible for the +girl's death. After all, what chance had he? He was fighting against +powers which, moving always in the darkness, seemed able with the most +ridiculous ease to frustrate his every move. He re-entered the hotel in +a state of complete nervous depression. For the first time he had +forebodings on his own account. What had happened to Mademoiselle +Flossie might happen so easily to himself.</p> + +<p>A man rose quickly from the lounge in the hotel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> as he entered. Duncombe +greeted him with a little expression of wonder.</p> + +<p>"Spencer!" he exclaimed. "Were you waiting to see me?"</p> + +<p>The journalist nodded. He was not in evening dress, and he too had the +appearance of a man who has received something of a shock.</p> + +<p>"Yes. The café is closed, I suppose. Let us go down into the smoke-room. +I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>Duncombe led the way. They found two easy-chairs, and despatched a +waiter for whiskies and soda. Then Spencer turned to his friend.</p> + +<p>"Have you met," he asked, "with any success?"</p> + +<p>"None!" Duncombe answered gloomily.</p> + +<p>"I have something to tell you," Spencer continued. "No, it is not good +news," he added hastily. "It is more a personal matter. It is of +something which has happened to myself."</p> + +<p>Duncombe sighed.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he said.</p> + +<p>"For twenty-two and a half years," Spencer said, "I have lived in Paris +as the correspondent to various English journals. I have made many +friends, and it has been considered amongst all my fellow journalists +that I had the ear of more influential people in politics and society +here than any other writer. To-day I have resigned my position!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe managed to summon up enough interest to be surprised.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea," he said, "that you were contemplating anything of the +sort."</p> + +<p>"I was not!" Spencer answered grimly. "I am as much surprised myself as +all my friends will be."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe was puzzled.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I don't quite understand," he said. "You can't mean that +your people<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"No! My people have nothing to do with it," Spencer answered. "I have +had the sack, but not from them. It is Paris which will have no more of +me. I live here, of course, on my faculties for obtaining information, +and my <i>entrée</i> into political and social life. To-day the Minister of +Police has declined to receive me, or at any future time—my cards of +entry into the chamber and half a dozen places have been revoked, my +name has been expunged from the visiting list of the President, and +practically of every other person of importance. All that I may see of +Paris now is from the outside. And there is no appeal!"</p> + +<p>"But what is the reason of it, Spencer? What have you done? How have you +offended all these people?"</p> + +<p>Spencer hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to blame yourself in any way, Duncombe," he said. "You +could not possibly have guessed the sort of thing you were up against. +But the fact remains that my offence is in having sent my friends to the +Café Montmartre on your account, and in being suspected of rendering you +further assistance in your search for those two marvellous young English +people!"</p> + +<p>"You are not joking by any chance, are you?" Duncombe asked gravely.</p> + +<p>"The matter," Spencer replied, "does not appear to me to lend itself to +anything of the sort."</p> + +<p>Duncombe buried his head in his hands for several moments.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Great Heavens!" he murmured. "Let me think! I can't tell you how sorry +I am, old chap. Can't the thing be explained? As a matter of fact, you +were discretion itself."</p> + +<p>"I don't want it explained," Spencer said, "even if it would do any +good—which it wouldn't! I should have retired in any case in less than +a year, and, as it is, I believe my successor is on his way over +already. Now would you like to know why I have come here at this hour of +the night to tell you this?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he said. "Afterwards I've something to tell you."</p> + +<p>"I've come," Spencer said, "because I'm free now, if you like, to help +you. I was interested in your story before. I am ten times more +interested in it now. If you still want me I'll do what I can for you."</p> + +<p>"Want you! Spencer, do you mean it?" Duncombe exclaimed. "Want you! Why, +there's no one I'd rather interest in the affair than you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can promise you my interest is pretty well excited already," +Spencer answered. "I'm with you right along. Now tell me where you've +been this evening, and what's happened."</p> + +<p>Duncombe recounted the evening's events. His new ally listened and +afterwards smoked for a moment or two in silence.</p> + +<p>"It is simply wonderful," he declared. "The whole secret-service system +of Paris is working to cover up the traces of this boy and girl. Their +spies, of course, are everywhere, and their organization perfect. The +first one of their creatures who tries to break away is Mademoiselle +Flossie. The poor little fool lived for only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> a few hours afterwards. +Your bribe was high, but she ought to have known better."</p> + +<p>"You mean<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course! The theft of her poor little jewels was only a blind. +It was to deceive the public, for, as a matter of fact, her murderer +would have been perfectly safe if he had strolled into the nearest +police station and made his report. She was killed because she was going +to give you certain information."</p> + +<p>Duncombe shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed. "Tell me, Spencer, who or what can be at +the back of all this? Guy Poynton was simply a healthy-minded, not +over-intelligent, young Saxon, unambitious, and passionately fond of his +home and his country life. He had no friends over here, no interests, no +ties of any sort. He was abroad for the first time of his life. He +regarded foreign countries and people simply with the tolerant curiosity +of the untravelled Britisher. He appears in Paris for one night and +disappears, and forthwith all the genius of French espionage seems to +have combined to cover up his traces. It is the same with his sister, +only as she came afterwards it was evidently on his account that she +also is drawn into the mystery. What can be the meaning of it, Spencer?"</p> + +<p>"My young friend," Spencer said, "I will be frank with you. I have not +the least idea! I only know that somehow or other you're up against a +big thing. In a week—perhaps a day—I may know more. Meanwhile I want +you to go on your way precisely as though you and I had not discussed +this matter."</p> + +<p>"We may not work together then?" Duncombe asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly not! You are a marked man everywhere. Every door is closed to +you. I shall nominally stick to my post. You must be content to be the +actual looker-on, though you had better not abandon your inquiries +altogether. I will put you up at the Cercle Anglais. It will serve to +pass the time, and you may gain information at the most unlikely places. +And now good-bye."</p> + +<p>The liftman thrust a pencilled note into Duncombe's hand as he ascended +to his room.</p> + +<p>"From I do not know whom, Monsieur," he announced. "It was left here by +some one! Whom I cannot say."</p> + +<p>Duncombe opened it in his dressing-room. There was only one sentence:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Monsieur would be well advised to leave Paris to-night."</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4>A WORD OF WARNING</h4> + + +<p>"In the most unlikely places!" Duncombe murmured to himself as he bowed +to the Frenchman, whose name his friend had mentioned. "I am very glad +to meet you again, Monsieur le Baron!" he said, aloud.</p> + +<p>They were in the covered garden at the Ritz. Duncombe had accepted the +pressing invitation of an old college friend, whom he had met on the +boulevards to drop in and be introduced to his wife. And the third at +the tea-table was Monsieur Louis, known in society apparently as +Monsieur le Baron de Seurs.</p> + +<p>Lady Hadley, his friend's wife, smiled languidly upon them both. She was +a frail pink and white little woman, with the reputation of a beauty to +sustain, wherein lay her life's work.</p> + +<p>"You two know one another, of course!" she remarked. "Paris is no larger +than London, after all."</p> + +<p>"Sir George and I have met once at least," the Baron said, smiling. "I +am glad that he does me the honor of remembering the occasion."</p> + +<p>Duncombe felt himself no match for his companion with the foils. He let +the conversation drift, and waited for his opportunity. Presently some +more guests arrived, and Duncombe drew his host on one side.</p> + +<p>"Hadley," he said, "how long have you known the Baron?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Met him at Dorset House about two years ago, I think," Hadley answered. +"He was doing a round of country-houses. I'm not sure that he didn't +stay at Sandringham. One of the real old French families, you know, De +Seurs."</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded. There did not seem to be much that he could say. He +mingled with the other guests, and observed his social duties. But he +watched the Baron, and he took care that they left together.</p> + +<p>"Are you going my way, Baron?" he asked, as they stepped into the Place +Vendôme.</p> + +<p>"I was going to the Cercle Anglais," the Baron answered. "Do you +belong?"</p> + +<p>"I am up for a month's membership, but I am not elected yet," Duncombe +answered.</p> + +<p>"Then you shall come in as my guest," the Baron declared.</p> + +<p>"You are exceedingly kind," Duncombe answered. "I wonder whether I might +presume still further upon your good nature and ask you a question."</p> + +<p>"The asking," the Baron murmured, "involves nothing."</p> + +<p>"You bear, I am told, an honored name, and you are well received in +society. Why do you associate with murderers and thieves in that hell of +a café where I saw you first?"</p> + +<p>The Baron smiled.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said, "I seek always the life amusing, and I find it +there."</p> + +<p>"I was robbed before your eyes, Baron."</p> + +<p>The Frenchman sighed.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," he said, "that I did not see it. That indeed would have +been amusing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You know that the young lady who sat with us is dead?"</p> + +<p>"A most bizarre happening," the Baron assented with a little sigh. "I +cannot imagine how it occurred. The newspaper reports are not +convincing. One would like to reconstruct the story. Poor little +Flossie! She was most amusing, but just a little, a very little, too +fond of flourishing her jewellery. One will miss her, though."</p> + +<p>"Referring for one moment to our meeting at the café. You told me a +story there—you and your friend Madame—of a young English lady—which +the facts seem scarcely to sustain."</p> + +<p>The Baron sighed.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said, "we did the best we could at a moment's notice. I +rather fancied the story myself. As to facts—what have they to do with +it? You demanded a story, and you got it. I rather flattered myself that +under the circumstances it was not bad."</p> + +<p>"You admit now, then, that it was not the truth!"</p> + +<p>"The truth! My dear Sir George! Supposing that the whereabouts of your +charming young friend had been known to me, do you suppose that I should +have permitted myself to be bullied into disclosing it? Forgive me if I +speak plainly, but if you really wished for information which you +supposed that I had, your method of seeking it put you at once out of +court. A French gentleman does not permit himself to be bullied."</p> + +<p>Duncombe was silent for several moments. There were many things which he +could have said, but where was the use?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As a French gentleman, then," he said at last, "will you permit me to +make a personal appeal to you? Miss Phyllis Poynton is a young lady in +whom I am deeply interested. She was last seen at the Café Montmartre, +from which place she disappeared. I am an Englishman of your own +station. Tell me where I can find her, or what has become of her."</p> + +<p>"My dear Sir George," the Baron said, "you might have saved yourself a +great deal of trouble if you had spoken like this to me at the first. +Frankly, then, I have not the least idea. Young English ladies come and +go every evening at the Café Montmartre, and such places. One remembers +only those who happen to have amused one, and not always those. Forgive +me if I speak plainly. A young lady who had visited the Café Montmartre +alone—well, you might look for her anywhere, but most assuredly in that +case if your anxiety was to induce her to return to her friends, you +would be a little too late. Ah! We have arrived. Now, my friend, I must +make you free of the place."</p> + +<p>Duncombe was fuming with anger, but he had discretion enough to remain +silent.</p> + +<p>"Do you play Bridge?" the Baron asked, as they entered the card-room.</p> + +<p>"Occasionally," Duncombe assented.</p> + +<p>"I will go and see if I can find any men," the Baron remarked. "I will +leave my young friend De Bergillac to entertain you. The Vicomte de +Bergillac—Sir George Duncombe."</p> + +<p>Duncombe shook hands with a pale, weary-looking youth, whose whole +appearance was distinguished by marked symptoms of lassitude and +ill-health. They sat in easy-chairs almost opposite to one another,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> and +Duncombe found the other's scrutiny almost embarrassing.</p> + +<p>"You speak French, perhaps—yes?" the young man asked at length.</p> + +<p>"Yes! I speak French," Duncombe admitted.</p> + +<p>"Then listen to me," the Vicomte said slowly. "I speak as one man of +honor to another. Do not play cards in this club!"</p> + +<p>"Not play cards? Why not?" Duncombe asked, amazed.</p> + +<p>"You can take my advice or leave it," the Vicomte answered calmly. "I +have no explanation to offer you. If you chose to repeat my remark you +would place me in an exceedingly awkward position. You see, I rely upon +you as a man of honor."</p> + +<p>"I am only too much obliged to you for the hint," Duncombe declared. +"But this club—the Cercle Anglais<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"The club is all right," the Vicomte admitted calmly. "Unfortunately +there is no place in Paris which would be entirely safe for you. You +have the misfortune, you see, to be in opposition to some of my friends, +who have really unlimited opportunities for making things disagreeable +for you. Now I am beginning to talk, and it is very foolish of me. Why +don't you leave Paris, Sir George?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" Duncombe asked, a little sharply. "I break no laws here, +I wrong no one. I am here on my own business, and I only ask to be let +alone."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte regarded him as one might look at a spoilt child whom it was +yet advisable to humor.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "they will not let you alone. You are so obstinate, like +all your country-people, or you would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> recognize it without my risking +so much by speaking. You will have to leave Paris, and very soon. It is +so easily to be managed. A dispute at cards here—you would certainly be +in the wrong, and an ugly scandal if you were not away in twenty-four +hours. It is one method of a thousand."</p> + +<p>"You know so much," Duncombe said. "I have no doubt that you know the +one thing which I would give years of my life to be satisfied about."</p> + +<p>The boy's dark eyes were fixed steadily upon his.</p> + +<p>"Sir George," he said, "there is nothing which I can possibly say to +you. My warning has been exceeding foolish, but after all if I can +persuade you to leave Paris I shall have done no great harm. As for the +cards—well, I must plead guilty to weakness there. I have not the +slightest objection to taking the life of a man who is making a nuisance +of himself, but his honor I think one should not tamper with. May I +offer you a cigarette? Well, Louis, what luck?"</p> + +<p>The Baron had strolled back into the room, and was sitting on the arm of +a chair.</p> + +<p>"It will be all right directly," the Baron answered. "We have three, and +old D'Arcon has telephoned that he will be here in five minutes."</p> + +<p>Duncombe rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"It was really very careless of me," he said, "but I completely forgot +that I had an engagement at the hotel at six o'clock. I am afraid that I +shall not be able to stop."</p> + +<p>The Baron glanced quickly at his young friend. There was nothing +whatever to be learnt, though, from his pale, boyish face. His own +countenance had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> darkened for the moment, but he recovered his composure +immediately.</p> + +<p>"As you will," he answered carelessly. "Perhaps you can drop in later. +Come and dine, will you, at half-past eight?"</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged to you, Baron," Duncombe said, "but I cannot accept +your invitation. I am a lover of plain speaking, so I will not plead a +previous engagement. But the one thing I want from you, the thing which +I have almost a right to demand, you will not give. I do not feel, +therefore, that any more than ordinary intercourse is possible between +us."</p> + +<p>The Baron bowed gravely.</p> + +<p>"My dear Sir George," he said, "I am answered. I wish I could drive out +of your mind that extraordinary hallucination relative to my supposed +knowledge of your young English friend. It is impossible! Very good! I +shall look forward to a time, Sir George, when we may meet on a better +footing."</p> + +<p>Duncombe left the hotel with the recollection of that curiously ironic +smile fresh in his mind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4>THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE</h4> + + +<p>For three days Duncombe saw nothing of Spencer. Three long days devoid +of incident, hopelessly dull, aimless, and uninteresting. On the fourth +the only change in the situation was scarcely a reassuring one. He +became aware that he was being watched.</p> + +<p>There was no particular secrecy about it. Even in the hotel itself some +one was always on his heels. The absence of any attempt at concealment +convinced him that it was the authorized police who had thus suddenly +showed their interest in him. The suspicion was soon to be confirmed. +The manager called him on the fourth morning into his private office.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur will pardon me, I trust," he said, "if I take the liberty of +asking him a question."</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" Duncombe answered. "Go ahead!"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is aware that he has been placed under the surveillance of the +police?"</p> + +<p>"The fact," Duncombe said, "has been borne in upon me during the last +few hours. What of it?"</p> + +<p>The manager coughed.</p> + +<p>"This is a cosmopolitan hotel, Sir George," he said, "and we make no +pretence at ultra-exclusiveness, but we do not care to see the police on +the premises."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," Duncombe answered. "Can you suggest how we may get rid +of them?"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur does not quite understand," the manager<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> said smoothly. +"Clearly he has done something to bring him under the suspicion of the +law. Under these circumstances it would be more agreeable to the +management of the hotel if Monsieur would depart."</p> + +<p>Duncombe did not wish to depart. The hotel at which Phyllis Poynton's +trunks were still awaiting her return was the hotel at which he wished +to stay.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Monsieur Huber," he said. "I give you my word of honor that +I have broken no law, nor engaged in any criminal action whatever since +I came to Paris. This game of having me watched is simply a piece of +bluff. I have done nothing except make inquiries in different quarters +respecting those two young English people who are still missing. In +doing this I seem to have run up against what is nothing more nor less +than a disgraceful conspiracy. Every hand is against me. Instead of +helping me to discover them, the police seem only anxious to cover up +the tracks of those young people."</p> + +<p>The manager looked down at his desk.</p> + +<p>"We hotel-keepers," he said, "are very much in the hands of the police. +We cannot judge between them and the people whom they treat as suspected +persons. I know very well, Sir George, that you are a person of +respectability and character, but if the police choose to think +otherwise I must adapt my views to theirs. I am sorry, but we must +really ask you to leave."</p> + +<p>Sir George turned on his heel.</p> + +<p>"Very good!" he said. "I will go and take rooms elsewhere."</p> + +<p>He left the hotel, and walked towards the Ritz. At the corner of the +Place Vendôme an automobile was pulled up with a jerk within a few feet +of him. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> tired-looking boy leaned over wearily towards him from the +front seat.</p> + +<p>"Sir George," he said, "can you give me five minutes?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure!" he answered. "I was going into the Ritz. Come and have +something."</p> + +<p>"To Maxim's, if you don't mind," the Vicomte said. "It will take us only +a moment."</p> + +<p>Sir George stepped in. The Vicomte, in whose fingers the wheel seemed +scarcely to rest, so light and apparently careless was his touch, +touched a lever by his side, released the clutch, and swung the great +car round the corner at a speed which made Duncombe grasp the sides. At +a pace which seemed to him most ridiculous, they dashed into the Rue de +Rivoli, and with another sharp turn pulled up before Maxim's. The +Vicomte rose with a yawn as though he had just awoke from a refreshing +dream. His servant slipped off his fur coat, and he descended to the +pavement faultlessly dressed and quite unruffled. The commissionaire +preceded them, hat in hand, to the door. A couple of waiters ushered +them to the table which the Vicomte intimated by a gesture.</p> + +<p>"I myself," he remarked, drawing off his gloves, "take nothing but +absinthe. What may I have the pleasure of ordering for you?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe ordered a whisky and soda.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "there is one thing which I ought to tell you at +once. I am being shadowed by the police. The man who has just arrived, +and who seems a little breathless, is, I believe, the person whose duty +it is to dog my footsteps in the daytime."</p> + +<p>"What a pity!" the Vicomte murmured. "I would at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> least have taken you a +mile or so round the boulevards if I had known. But wait! You are +sure—that it is the police by whom you are being watched?"</p> + +<p>"Quite," Duncombe answered. "The manager of the hotel has spoken to me +about it. He has asked me, in fact, to leave."</p> + +<p>"To leave the hotel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! I was on my way to the Ritz to secure rooms when I met you."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte sipped his absinthe gravely.</p> + +<p>"I should not take those rooms," he said. "You will in all probability +not occupy them."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"It has been decided," the Vicomte said, "that you are to be driven out +of Paris. In the end you will have to go. I think if I were you I would +not wait. The train de luxe to Calais is more comfortable than a wet +bench in the Morgue or a French prison."</p> + +<p>"Who has decided this?" Duncombe asked. "What Emperor has signed the +decree of my banishment?"</p> + +<p>"There have been worse served Emperors," the Vicomte remarked, "than +the, shall we say person, who bids you go!"</p> + +<p>"What is my offence?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing," the Vicomte answered slowly, pouring himself out some +absinthe.</p> + +<p>"Who are my judges, then? What secret authorities have I incensed? I am +an honest man, engaged in an honest mission. Why should I not be allowed +to execute it?"</p> + +<p>The Vicomte half closed his eyes. Duncombe was a little angry. The +Vicomte regarded him with reproachful wonder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You ask me so many questions," he murmured, "and I tell you that I know +nothing. I have asked you to come here with me because I had just this +to say. I can answer no questions, offer no explanations. I have no +particular liking for you, but I am afflicted with a cursedly sensitive +disposition, and—there are things which I find it hard to watch with +equanimity. There is a train for England at nine o'clock this evening, +Sir George. Take it!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe rose from his seat.</p> + +<p>"I am very much obliged to you," he said. "I believe that you are giving +me what you believe to be good advice. Whether I can follow it or not is +a different matter."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte sighed.</p> + +<p>"You Englishmen," he said, "are so obstinate. It is the anxiety +concerning your friends, I suppose, which keeps you here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>The Vicomte hesitated. He looked up and down the room, and especially at +the man whom Duncombe had pointed out to him. He had edged nearer and +nearer till he was almost within earshot. The Vicomte's voice, always +low, became a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you this much, at any rate," he said. "Whatever their +present condition may be, it is more likely to be improved than made +worse by your departure. You are a well-meaning person, Monsieur, but +you do nobody any good here, and you risk—more than I dare tell you."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte turned away to greet a little party of friends who had just +entered. Duncombe strolled back to the hotel, and found Spencer walking +restlessly up and down the hall waiting for him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"At last!" he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief. "Come up into my room, +Spencer. We can talk there."</p> + +<p>He rang for the lift, and as they ascended he watched the other +anxiously. Spencer was looking pale and disturbed. His eyes showed signs +of sleeplessness, and he had not the air of a man who has good news to +impart. As soon as they were inside the room he locked the door.</p> + +<p>"Duncombe," he said, "there is a train which leaves Paris for London at +four o'clock. You must catch it—if you are allowed to. Don't look like +that, man. I tell you you've got to do it. If you are in Paris to-night +you will be in prison."</p> + +<p>"For what offence?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"For the murder of Mademoiselle Flossie. They are training the witnesses +now. The whole thing is as easy as A B C. They can prove you so guilty +that not even your best friend would doubt it. Pack your clothes, man, +or ring for the valet."</p> + +<p>Duncombe hesitated, but he, too, was pale.</p> + +<p>"Are you serious, Spencer?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am so serious," Spencer answered, "that unless you obey me I will not +move another finger in this matter. You lose nothing by going. All that +a human being can do I will do! But you lose your life, or, at any rate, +your liberty if you stay."</p> + +<p>Duncombe bowed his head to fate.</p> + +<p>"Very well!" he said. "I will go!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h4>"HER VOICE."</h4> + + +<p>"You have heard now," Duncombe said, finally, "the whole history of my +wanderings. I feel like a man who has been beating the air, who has been +at war with unseen and irresistible forces. I never seemed to have a +chance. In plain words, I have failed utterly!"</p> + +<p>The two men were sitting in a room impossible of classification. It +might have been a study, smoking-room, or gun-room. The walls were +adorned with stags' heads and various trophies of the chase. There were +guns and rifles in plenty in a rack by the chimney-piece, a row of +bookcases along the north wall, golf clubs, cricket bats, and foils +everywhere. A pile of logs ready for burning stood in the open grate, +and magnificent rugs were spread about the floor. Nowhere was there the +slightest trace of a woman's presence, for Duncombe had no sisters, and +his was entirely a bachelor household.</p> + +<p>Duncombe himself and Andrew Pelham were seated in great easy-chairs in +front of the open window. It was his first fine evening at home, and he +was drinking in great draughts of the fresh pure air, fragrant with the +perfume of roses and huge clusters of wallflowers. Paris had seemed to +him like a great oven. All the time he had been half stifled, and yet he +knew very well that at a word from Spencer he would have re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>turned there +at an hour's notice. He knew, too, that the home which he had loved all +his days could never be quite the same place to him again.</p> + +<p>Andrew roused himself from rather a prolonged silence.</p> + +<p>"You were a brick to go, George," he said. "It is more than any one else +in the world would have done for me."</p> + +<p>Duncombe laughed a little uneasily. He knocked the ashes from his pipe +and refilled it slowly.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," he said, "I don't want to seem a fraud. I dare say that I +might have gone for you alone—but I didn't."</p> + +<p>His friend smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he remarked. "I had forgotten your little infatuation. It hasn't +worn off yet, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, nor any signs of it," Duncombe answered bluntly. "It's an odd +position for a matter-of-fact person like myself, isn't it? I tell you, +Andrew, I've really tried to care for some of the girls about here. The +place wants a mistress, and I'm the tenth baronet in the direct line. +One's got to think about these things, you know. I've tried hard, and +I've never even come near it."</p> + +<p>"It will wear off," Andrew said. "It is a very charming little fancy, a +most delightful bit of sentiment, George, but with nothing behind it it +can't last."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," Duncombe answered quietly. "All that I know is that it +has shown no signs of wearing off up to now. It was in Paris exactly as +it is here. And I know very well that if I thought it would do her the +least bit of good I would start back to Paris or to the end of the world +to-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must readjust my views of you, George," his friend said with mild +satire. "I always looked upon you as fair game for the Norfolk dowagers +with their broods of daughters, but I never contemplated your fixing +your affections upon a little piece of paste-board."</p> + +<p>"Rot! It is the girl herself," Duncombe declared.</p> + +<p>"But you have never seen her."</p> + +<p>Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He said nothing. What was the use? +Never seen her! Had she not found her way into every beautiful place his +life had knowledge of?</p> + +<p>"If you had," Andrew murmured—"ah, well, the picture is like her. I +remember when she was a child. She was always fascinating, always +delightful to watch."</p> + +<p>Duncombe looked out upon the gardens which he loved, and sighed.</p> + +<p>"If only Spencer would send for me to go back to Paris," he said with a +sigh.</p> + +<p>Andrew turned his head.</p> + +<p>"You can imagine now," he said, "what I have been suffering. The desire +for action sometimes is almost maddening. I think that the man who sits +and waits has the hardest task."</p> + +<p>They were silent for some time, smoking steadily. Then Duncombe reverted +once more to his wanderings.</p> + +<p>"You remember the story they told me at the Café, Andrew," he said. "It +was a lie, of course, but was Miss Poynton anything of an artist?"</p> + +<p>"To the best of my belief," Andrew answered, "she has never touched a +brush or a pencil since she left school."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe looked out into the gathering twilight.</p> + +<p>"It is a devil's riddle, this!" he said slowly. "Why did she go to that +place at all?"</p> + +<p>"God only knows!" Andrew murmured.</p> + +<p>Duncombe's teeth were hard set. A paper-knife, which he had caught up +from the table, snapped in his fingers. There was something in his +throat which nearly choked him.</p> + +<p>"Phyllis Poynton," Andrew continued, "was as sweet and pure a woman as +ever breathed. She must have loathed that place. She could only have +gone there to seek for her brother, or<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Or for whom?"</p> + +<p>"For those who knew where he was."</p> + +<p>Duncombe turned his head.</p> + +<p>"Andrew!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, old chap!"</p> + +<p>"Let me look at her photograph again."</p> + +<p>Andrew drew it from his pocket and passed it over. Duncombe studied it +for several moments under the lamplight.</p> + +<p>"You are right, Andrew," he said slowly. "For her the other things would +not be possible. I wonder<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>His fingers clung to the photograph. He looked across at his friend. +There was a slight flush in his face. He spoke nervously.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," he said, "I'm afraid it sounds a bit brutal, but—this +photograph is no use to you just now, is it, until your eyes get better. +Will you lend it me?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't," Andrew answered quietly. "I can't see it now of course, +but I like to feel it in my pocket, and it will be the first thing I +shall look at when the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> doctor lets me take off these beastly +glasses—if ever he does. Until then—well, I like to feel I've got it. +That's all!"</p> + +<p>They both smoked furiously for several moments without looking at one +another. Duncombe spoke first.</p> + +<p>"Andrew!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"If she comes back—shall you ever ask her to marry you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, George. I'm poor, and I'm twelve years older than she is. +I don't know."</p> + +<p>There was another silence. Then the conversation drifted back once more +to the one subject which was monopolizing the thought of both of them.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what seems to me to be the most extraordinary part of the +whole business," Duncombe said. "First the brother disappears. Then +without a word to any one the sister also rushes off to Paris, and +vanishes from the face of the earth after a series of extraordinary +proceedings. One supposes naturally that if they have come to harm +anywhere—if there has been a crime—there must have been a motive. What +is it? You say that their banking account has been undisturbed?"</p> + +<p>"It was last week. I should hear if any cheques were presented."</p> + +<p>"And the boy's letter of credit even has never been drawn upon!"</p> + +<p>"No! Not since he left Vienna."</p> + +<p>"Then the motive cannot be robbery. Thank Heaven," Duncombe added, with +a little shudder, "that it was the boy who went first."</p> + +<p>"Don't!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>A great winged insect came buzzing into the room. Duncombe struck +viciously at it with the palm of his hand.</p> + +<p>"Lord!" he muttered, "what a fool I am! I've never been away from home +before, Andrew, without longing to get back, and here I am, just back +from Paris in August, from turning night into day, from living just the +sort of life I hate, and I'd give anything to be going back there +to-morrow. I'm a haunted man, Andrew. I got up last night simply because +I couldn't sleep, and walked down as far as the paddock. I seemed to see +her face in all the shadowy corners, to see her moving towards me from +amongst the trees. And I'm not an imaginative person, Andrew, and I've +got no nerves. Look!"</p> + +<p>He held out his hand, strong and firm and brown. It was as steady as a +rock.</p> + +<p>"I can't sleep," he continued, "I can't rest. Is there witchcraft in +this thing, Andrew?"</p> + +<p>Andrew Pelham laughed shortly. It was a laugh which had no kinship to +mirth.</p> + +<p>"And I," he said, "have seen her grow up. We were boy and girl together. +I stole apples for her. I have watched her grow from girlhood into +womanhood. I have known flesh and blood, and you a cardboard image. I +too am a strong man, and I am helpless. I lie awake at night and I +think. It is as though the red flames of hell were curling up around me. +George, if she has come to any evil, whether I am blind or whether I can +see, I'll grope my way from country to country till my hand is upon the +throat of the beast who has harmed her."</p> + +<p>The man's voice shook with passion. Duncombe was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> awed into silence. He +had known Andrew Pelham always as a good-natured, good-hearted giant, +beloved of children and animals, deeply religious, a man whose temper, +if he possessed such a thing, was always strictly under control. Such an +outburst as this was a revelation. Duncombe understood then how slight a +thing his own suffering was.</p> + +<p>"You shall not go alone, Andrew," he said softly. "But for the present +we must wait. If any one can help us, Spencer will."</p> + +<p>A servant came in with the whisky and glasses, and silently arranged +them upon the table. Duncombe rose and attended to his duties as host.</p> + +<p>"Can I get you anything further, sir?" the man asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, thanks," Duncombe answered. "Tell the servants to go to bed. +We will lock up. Say when, Andrew!"</p> + +<p>Andrew took his glass mechanically. Out in the lane the silence of the +summer night was suddenly broken by the regular tread of horses' feet +and the rumbling of vehicles. Duncombe Hall was built like many of the +old-fashioned houses in the country, with its back to the road, and the +window at which they were sitting looked out upon it. Duncombe leaned +forward in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Visitors by the last train going up to Runton Place," he remarked. +"Runton has quite a large party for the first. Hullo! They're stopping. +I'd better go out."</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair. The omnibus had stopped in the lane, and they +could hear the voices of the occupants clearly through the soft +darkness. Some one was apparently getting out, and stumbled. A girl's +soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> laugh rang out distinctly above the man's exclamation. Duncombe +was already stepping over the window-sill when he felt a clutch like +iron upon his shoulder. He looked round in amazement. Andrew's face was +transformed. He was struggling for words.</p> + +<p>"Her voice!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Am I dreaming, George? It was her +voice!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<h4>LAUGHTER OF WOMEN</h4> + + +<p>The door of the omnibus was opened as Duncombe stepped over the low wall +into the road. A tall man in a long light Inverness descended.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Duncombe!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand; "I was coming in +to see you for a moment."</p> + +<p>"Good man!" Duncombe answered. "Bring your friends, won't you?"</p> + +<p>He held open the gate hospitably, but Lord Runton shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I only wanted a word with you," he said. "We're all starving, and if +you don't mind we'll get on as quickly as we can. About to-morrow. You +shoot with us, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Delighted!" Duncombe answered.</p> + +<p>"Cresswell met me at the station," Lord Runton continued. "I'd drawn out +a plan for the shoot, but it seems that Cresswell—old fool—hasn't got +his harvest in from the two fields by Ketton's Gorse. What I wanted to +ask you was if we might take your turnips up from Mile's bottom to the +north end of the gorse. We can make our circuit then without a break."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow!" Duncombe protested, "was it worth while asking me such +a thing? Of course you can."</p> + +<p>"That's settled, then," Lord Runton declared, turning back towards the +omnibus. "Let me introduce you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> my friends," he added, resting his +hand upon the other's shoulder, "and then we'll be off."</p> + +<p>Duncombe, in whose ears his friend's cry was still ringing, pressed +eagerly forward.</p> + +<p>"This is my neighbor, Sir George Duncombe," Lord Runton said, looking +into the carriage, "who will shoot with us to-morrow. Miss Fielding and +Mr. Fielding, Lady Angrave and the Baron Von Rothe."</p> + +<p>Lady Angrave held out her hand.</p> + +<p>"Sir George and I are almost old friends," she said, with a somewhat +languid smile. "We were both at Castle Holkham last autumn."</p> + +<p>Duncombe murmured something conventional as he bowed over her fingers. +His whole attention was riveted upon the tall, pale girl in the further +corner of the omnibus. Her acknowledgment of his introduction had been +of the slightest, and her features were obscured by a white veil. She +looked away from him at once and continued a whispered conversation with +the white-haired gentleman at her side. Duncombe could think of no +excuse for addressing her.</p> + +<p>"I shall have the pleasure of meeting you all again to-morrow," he said, +closing the door after Lord Runton. "I won't keep you now. I know what +the journey is down from town. Good night, Runton!"</p> + +<p>"Good night, George. Ten o'clock sharp!"</p> + +<p>The carriage rolled off, and Duncombe returned to his own domain. Andrew +was waiting for him impatiently by the gate.</p> + +<p>"Well!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you have seen her. Well?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>The man was trembling with excitement. There were drops of perspiration +upon his forehead. His voice sounded unnatural.</p> + +<p>"I saw a young lady in the carriage," Duncombe answered, "or rather I +did not see her, for she wore a veil, and she scarcely looked at me. But +she was introduced to me as Miss Fielding, and her father was with her."</p> + +<p>"Fielding! Fielding!" Andrew repeated. "Never mind that. What was she +like! What colored hair had she?"</p> + +<p>"I told you that she kept her veil down," Duncombe repeated. "Her hair +was a sort of deep, red-brown—what I could see of it. But, seriously, +Andrew, what is the use of discussing her? One might as soon expect one +of my housemaids to change into Phyllis Poynton, as to discover her with +a brand-new father, a brand-new name, and a guest at Runton Place."</p> + +<p>Andrew was silent for a moment. He touched his spectacles with a weary +gesture, and covered his eyes with his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I suppose you are right. I suppose I am a fool. +But—the voice!"</p> + +<p>"The laughter of women," said Duncombe, "is music all the world over. +One cannot differ very much from the other."</p> + +<p>"You are quite wrong, George," Andrew said. "The voices of women vary +like the thumb-marks of criminals. There are no two attuned exactly +alike. It is the receptive organs that are at fault. We, who have lost +one sense, find the others a little keener. The laughter of that +girl—George, will you keep me a few days longer? Somehow I cannot bring +myself to leave until I have heard her voice once more."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," he said, "I shall bless your uncommonly sensitive ears +if they keep you here with me even for an extra few days. You shall have +your opportunity, too. I always dine at Runton Place after our first +shoot, and I know Runton quite well enough to take you. You shall sit at +the same table. Hullo, what's this light wobbling up the drive?"</p> + +<p>He strolled a yard or so away, and returned.</p> + +<p>"A bicycle," he remarked. "One of the grooms has been down to the +village. I shall have to speak to Burdett in the morning. I will not +have these fellows coming home at all sorts of times in the morning. +Come along in, Andrew. Just a drain, eh? And a cigarette—and then to +bed. Runton's keen on his bag, and they say that German, Von Rothe, is a +fine shot. Can't let them have it all their own way."</p> + +<p>"No fear of that," Andrew answered, stepping through the window. "I'll +have the cigarette, please, but I don't care about any more whisky. The +'Field' mentioned your name only a few weeks ago as one of the finest +shots at rising birds in the country, so I don't think you need fear the +German."</p> + +<p>"I ought to hold my own with the partridges," Duncombe admitted, helping +himself from the siphon, "but come in, come in!"</p> + +<p>A servant entered with a telegram upon a silver salver.</p> + +<p>"A boy has just brought this from Runton, sir," he said.</p> + +<p>Duncombe tore it open. He was expecting a message from his gun-maker, +and he opened it without any particular interest, but as he read, his +whole manner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> changed. He held the sheet in front of him long enough to +have read it a dozen times. He could not restrain the slight start—a +half exclamation. Then his teeth came together. He remembered the +servant and looked up.</p> + +<p>"There will be no answer to-night, Murray," he said. "Give the boy a +shilling and some supper. If he goes home by the Runton gates, tell him +to be sure and close them, because of the deer."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir!"</p> + +<p>The man departed. Duncombe laid the telegram upon the table. He felt +that Andrew was waiting impatiently for him to speak.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said.</p> + +<p>"From Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He has discovered something?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," Duncombe answered, "he is asking me for information, +and very curious information, too."</p> + +<p>"What does he want to know?"</p> + +<p>"The telegram," Duncombe said slowly, "is in French. He asks me to wire +him at once the names of all the guests at Runton Place."</p> + +<p>Andrew struck the table a mighty blow with his clenched fist.</p> + +<p>"I knew it!" he cried. "It was her laugh, her voice. Phyllis Poynton is +there!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe looked at his friend incredulously.</p> + +<p>"My dear Andrew," he said, "be reasonable. The young lady and her father +in that omnibus were introduced to me by Runton himself as Mr. and Miss +Fielding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> They are going to his house as his guests. Naturally, +therefore, he knows all about them. Miss Poynton, as you have told me +more than once, is an orphan."</p> + +<p>"Common-sense won't even admit it as a matter of argument," Andrew said. +"I know that quite well. But how do you account for Spencer's telegram?"</p> + +<p>"Remember that he is a newspaper correspondent," Duncombe said. "He has +many interests and many friends with whom he is constantly exchanging +information. It is a coincidence, I admit. But the wildest flight of +imagination could not make any more of it."</p> + +<p>"You must be right," Andrew said quietly. "It all sounds, and is, so +convincing. But I wish that I had not heard that laugh!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<h4>MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA</h4> + + +<p>Duncombe leaned his gun up against a gate. A few yards away his host was +talking to the servants who had brought down luncheon. The rest of the +party were only just in sight a field or two off.</p> + +<p>"Have a glass of sherry before lunch, George?" his host asked, strolling +towards him.</p> + +<p>"Nothing to drink, thanks! I'd like a cigarette, if you have one."</p> + +<p>Lord Runton produced his case, and a servant brought them matches. They +both leaned over the gate, and watched the scattered little party slowly +coming towards them.</p> + +<p>"Who is your friend Fielding?" Duncombe asked, a little bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Fellow from New York," Lord Runton answered. "He's been very decent to +my brother out there, and Archibald wrote and asked me to do all we +could for them. The girl is very handsome. You'll see her at dinner +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Here for long?"</p> + +<p>"No, unfortunately," Lord Runton answered. "I had very hard work to get +them to come at all. Cicely has written them three or four times, I +think, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> they've always had engagements. They're only staying till +Monday, I think. Very quiet, inoffensive sort of chap, Fielding, but the +girl's a ripper! Hullo! Here they are. I'll introduce you."</p> + +<p>A groom had thrown open the gate of the field across which they were +looking, and Lady Runton from the box seat of a small mail phaeton waved +her whip. She drove straight across the furrows towards them a little +recklessly, the groom running behind. By her side was a girl with coils +of deep brown hair, and a thick black veil worn after the fashion of the +travelling American.</p> + +<p>"Just in time, aren't we?" Lady Runton remarked, as she brought the +horses to a standstill. "Help me down, Jack, and look after Miss +Fielding, Sir George. By the bye, have you two met yet?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe bowed—he was bareheaded—and held out his hands.</p> + +<p>"I saw Miss Fielding for a moment last night," he said, "or rather I +didn't see her. We were introduced, however. What do you think of our +maligned English weather, Miss Fielding?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She raised her veil and looked at him deliberately. He had been prepared +for this meeting, and yet it was with difficulty that he refrained from +a start. The likeness of the photograph (it was even at that moment in +his pocket) was wonderful. She looked a little older, perhaps. There +were shadows in her face of which there were no traces in the picture. +And yet the likeness was wonderful.</p> + +<p>"To-day at least is charming," she said. "But then I am quite used to +your climate, you know. I have lived in Europe almost as much as in +America."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>She certainly had no trace of any accent. She spoke a little more +slowly, perhaps, than most young Englishwomen, but there was nothing +whatever in her words or in her pronunciation of them to suggest a +transatlantic origin. She stood by his side looking about her with an +air of interest, and Duncombe began to wonder whether after all she was +not more beautiful than the photograph which he had treasured so +jealously. He became conscious of a desire to keep her by his side.</p> + +<p>"Is your father shooting, Miss Fielding?"</p> + +<p>She laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"You don't know my father, Sir George," she answered. "He hates +exercise, detests being out of doors, and his idea of Paradise when he +is away from business is to be in a large hotel where every one speaks +English, where there are tapes and special editions and an American +bar."</p> + +<p>Duncombe laughed.</p> + +<p>"Then I am afraid Mr. Fielding will find it rather hard to amuse himself +down here."</p> + +<p>"Well, he's discovered the telephone," she said. "He's spending the +morning ringing up people all over the country. He was talking to his +bankers when we came out. Oh, here come the rest of them. How tired they +look, poor things—especially the Baron! Nature never meant him to tramp +over ploughed fields, I am sure. Baron, I was just saying how warm you +look."</p> + +<p>The Baron took off his cap, gave up his gun to a keeper, and turned a +glowing face towards them.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," he declared, "I am warm. I admit it, but it is +good for me. Very good indeed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> I tried to make your father walk with +us. He will be sure to suffer some day if he takes no exercise."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father's never ill," the girl answered. "But then he eats nothing, +Sir George, I hope you're going to devote yourself to me at luncheon. +I'm terribly hungry."</p> + +<p>"So we all are," Lady Runton declared. "Come along, every one."</p> + +<p>Luncheon was served in a large open barn, pleasantly fragrant of dried +hay, and with a delightful view of the sea far away in the distance. +Miss Fielding chattered to every one, was amusing and amused. The Baron +gave her as much of his attention as he was ever disposed to bestow upon +any one at meal-times, and Duncombe almost forgot that he had +breakfasted at eight o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Charming young person, that!" said Lady Runton's neighbor to her. "One +of our future Duchesses, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Lady Runton smiled.</p> + +<p>"Lots of money, Teddy," she answered. "What a pity you haven't a title!"</p> + +<p>The young man—he was in the Foreign Office—sighed, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Such things are not for me," he declared sententiously. "My affections +are engaged."</p> + +<p>"That isn't the least reason why you shouldn't marry money," her +ladyship declared, lighting a cigarette. "Go and talk to her!"</p> + +<p>"Can't spoil sport!" he answered, shaking his head. "By Jove! Duncombe +is making the running, though, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Her ladyship raised her glasses. Duncombe and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> Miss Fielding had +strolled outside the barn. He was showing her his house—a very +picturesque old place it looked, down in the valley.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing but a farmhouse, of course," he said. "No pretensions to +architecture or anything of that sort, of course, but it's rather a +comfortable old place."</p> + +<p>"I think it is perfectly charming," the girl said. "Do you live there +all alone? You have sisters perhaps?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No such luck!" he answered. "Mine is entirely a bachelor establishment. +A great part of the time I am alone. Just now I have a pal staying with +me—awfully decent chap, from Devonshire."</p> + +<p>She was certainly silent for a moment. He fancied too that there was a +change in her face.</p> + +<p>"From Devonshire!" she repeated, with a carelessness which, if it was +not natural, was exceedingly well assumed. "I believe I knew some people +once who came from there. What is your friend's name, Sir George?"</p> + +<p>He turned slowly towards her.</p> + +<p>"Andrew Pelham!" he said quietly. "He comes from a place called +Raynesworth."</p> + +<p>"He is staying here now—with you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered gravely.</p> + +<p>It was not his fancy this time. Of that he felt sure. Her face for the +moment had been the color of chalk—a little exclamation had been +strangled upon her lips. She shot a quick glance at him. He met it +steadily.</p> + +<p>"You know the name?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"The name—yes," she answered, "but not the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> person. A very old friend +of mine was called Andrew Pelham, but he was an American, and he has +never been in England. It startled me, though, to hear the exact name +from you."</p> + +<p>She was herself again. Her explanation was carelessly given. It sounded +even convincing, but Duncombe himself was not convinced. He knew that +she wanted him to be. He felt her eyes seeking his, studying his face. +Perhaps she was only anxious that he should not misunderstand.</p> + +<p>"George, are you ready?" his host called out. "We're going to take +Smith's pastures."</p> + +<p>"Quite!" Duncombe answered. "Until this evening, Miss Fielding."</p> + +<p>"You are dining at Runton Place?" she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "Will you tell me all about your Andrew Pelham?"</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes to his and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Do you think that you would be interested?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You know that I should," he answered quietly.</p> + +<p>For a time he shot badly. Then he felt that his host's eye was upon him, +and pulled himself together. But he was never at his best. He felt that +the whole world of his sensations had been suddenly disturbed. It was +impossible that there could be any connection between this girl and the +photograph which had first fired him with the impulse to undertake that +most extraordinary and quixotic mission. Yet the fact remained that the +girl herself had had very much the same effect upon him as his first +sight of the photograph. It was a coincidence, of course. Miss Fielding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +was charming. There was no reason why he should not indulge to the full +his admiration of her. She had affected him in a most curious manner. +Another man would have declared himself in love with her. It was not +possible that she could be any one but Miss Fielding. That start which +he had fancied that he had noticed, the sudden aging of her face, the +look almost of fear! Absurd! He was losing his nerves. It was not +possible, he told himself steadfastly. And yet<span class="ohdash">—</span>—</p> + +<p>Some of the women were following them in a leisurely sort of way behind. +Miss Fielding was there, walking a little apart. She carried her hat in +her hand. The wind, which was blowing the skirts of her white cloth +dress about her, was making havoc in her glorious hair. She walked with +her head thrown back, with all the effortless grace of youth—a light +heart, an easy conscience. He deliberately left his place and walked +back to meet her. She waved her hand gayly. There was color in her +cheeks now, and her eyes laughed into his. The shadows were gone. He +felt that this was madness, and yet he said what he had come back to +say.</p> + +<p>"I thought that you might be interested to know, Miss Fielding, that you +will meet the gentleman—with the same name as your friend—this +evening. Lord Runton has been good enough to ask him to come up and +dine."</p> + +<p>She nodded gayly.</p> + +<p>"What a crowd of sentimental memories his coming will evoke!" she +declared. "Be nice to me, won't you, and help me dispel them?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said, smiling with a great relief; "I might prefer to try +to construct a few on my own account."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go and do your duty," she commanded, laughing.</p> + +<p>Duncombe hastened to his place. His eyes were bright. He felt that he +was walking upon air.</p> + +<p>"What a double distilled ass I nearly made of myself!" he muttered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h3> + +<h4>MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION</h4> + + +<p>She came into the room a little late, and her entrance created almost a +sensation. Duncombe only knew that she wore a black gown and looked +divine. Lady Runton murmured "Paquin" with a sigh and frown.</p> + +<p>"These girls might at least leave us black," she murmured to her +neighbor. "What pearls!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe stepped forward to meet her. He could not keep the admiration +from his eyes. Her shoulders and slim graceful neck were as white as +alabaster, her hair was a gorgeous brown kissed into fine gold +glimmering as though with a touch of some hidden fire. She moved with +the delightful freedom of absolute naturalness. He murmured something +which sounded ridiculously commonplace, and she laughed at him.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you are going to take me in?" she said. "I hope that +you are prepared to be very amusing. Do tell me which is your friend."</p> + +<p>Then Duncombe remembered Andrew, who was standing by his side. He turned +towards him, and the words suddenly died away upon his lips. Andrew's +tall frame was shaking as though with some powerful emotion. He was +standing with his head thrust forward as though listening intently. +Duncombe set his teeth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will you allow me to present my friend Miss Fielding?" he said. +"Andrew, this is Miss Fielding. Mr. Pelham, Miss Fielding."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand and took his passive fingers.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to know you, Mr. Pelham," she said pleasantly. "Sir George +gave me quite a shock to-day when he spoke of you. I was once very +nearly engaged to an Andrew Pelham in Baltimore, and I had most +distressing visions of all my old sweethearts turning up to spoil my +good time here."</p> + +<p>Andrew's voice sounded odd and restrained.</p> + +<p>"I have never been in America," he said.</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid that I am going to claim you," she declared. +"You are at least a foot taller than my Andrew. You don't even inspire +me with any tender recollections of him. Baron, I do hope that you have +not taken too much exercise."</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," he answered, bowing, "I never felt better in my +life! Be thankful that it is not your hard fate to be my dinner +companion. I am so hungry I should have no time for conversation."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," she declared, "I—almost regret it! I much prefer to +do some of the talking myself, but I seldom get a chance. Will you +promise to give me a show to-night, Sir George?"</p> + +<p>"As long as you permit me to say two or three things which are in my +mind," he answered, lowering his voice a little, "you may do all the +rest of the talking."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, I am curious already," she exclaimed. "What are the two or +three things, Sir George? Why! Do you see—nearly every one has gone," +she added suddenly. "Come along!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>She laid her hand upon his arm and led him away. Soon he was by her side +at the table. Their companions were uninteresting. Andrew was out of +sight. Duncombe forgot everything else in the world except that he was +with her.</p> + +<p>Their conversation was of trifles, yet intimate trifles. The general +talk buzzed all round them. Neither made any effort to arrest it. To +Duncombe she seemed simply the image he had created and worshipped +suddenly come to life. That it was not in fact her picture went for +nothing. There was no infidelity. The girl who had existed in his dreams +was here. It was for her that he had departed from the even tenor of his +ways, for her he had searched in Paris, for her he had braved the +horrors of that unhappy week. Already he felt that she belonged to him, +and in a vague sort of way she, too, seemed to be letting herself drift, +to be giving color to his unconscious assumption by her lowered tone, by +the light in her eyes which answered his, by all those little nameless +trifles which go to the sealing of unwritten compacts.</p> + +<p>Once her manner changed. Her father, who was on the opposite side of the +table a little way off, leaned forward and addressed her.</p> + +<p>"Say, Sybil, where did we stay in Paris? I've forgotten the name of the +place."</p> + +<p>"L'hôtel d'Athènes," she answered, and at once resumed her conversation +with Duncombe.</p> + +<p>But somehow the thread was broken. Duncombe found himself watching the +little gray man opposite, who ate and drank so sparingly, who talked +only when he was spoken to, and yet who seemed to be taking a keen but +covert interest in everything that went on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> about him. Her father! There +was no likeness, no shadow of a likeness. Yet Duncombe felt almost a +personal interest in him. They would know one another better some day, +he felt.</p> + +<p>"So you've been in Paris lately?" he asked her suddenly.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"For a few days."</p> + +<p>"I arrived from there barely a week ago," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"I hate the place!" she answered. "Talk of something else."</p> + +<p>And he obeyed.</p> + +<p>The second interruption came from Andrew. During a momentary lull in the +conversation they heard his firm clear voice talking.</p> + +<p>"My time was up yesterday, but I find so much to interest me down here +that I think I shall stay on for a few more days, if my host remains as +hospitable as ever."</p> + +<p>"So much to interest him," she murmured. "Are not all places the same to +the blind? What does he mean?"</p> + +<p>"He is not really blind!" Duncombe answered, lowering his voice. "He can +see things very dimly. The doctor has told him that if he wears those +glasses for a few more months he may be able to preserve some measure of +eyesight. Poor chap!"</p> + +<p>"He does not attract me—your friend," she said a little coldly. "What +can he find to interest him so much here? Do you see how he keeps his +head turned this way? It is almost as though he wished to listen to what +we were saying."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is a sort of reason for that," Duncombe answered. "Shall I +explain it?"</p> + +<p>"Do!"</p> + +<p>"Pelham lives, as I think I told you, in a small country-house near +Raynesworth," Duncombe began. "The hall in his village was occupied by a +young man—a boy, really—and his sister. Early in the year the boy, who +had never been abroad, thought that he would like to travel a little in +Europe. He wandered about some time in Germany and Austria, and was +coming home by Paris. Suddenly all letters from him ceased. He did not +return. He did not write. He drew no money from his letter of credit. He +simply disappeared."</p> + +<p>The girl was proceeding tranquilly with her dinner. The story so far did +not seem to interest her.</p> + +<p>"His sister, who went over to Paris to meet him, found herself quite +alone there, and we supposed that she devoted herself to searching for +him. And then curiously enough she, too, disappeared. Letters from her +suddenly ceased. No one knew what had become of her."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"Now," she said, "your story is becoming interesting. Do go on. I want +to know where you and Mr. Pelham come in."</p> + +<p>"Pelham, I think," he continued gravely, "was their oldest friend. He +sent for me. We were old college chums, and I went. This trouble with +his eyes had only just come on, and he was practically helpless—much +more helpless than the ordinary blind person, because it was all new to +him. This boy and girl were his old and dear friends. He was longing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +be off to Paris to search for them himself, and yet he knew that so far +as he was concerned it would be simply wasted time. He showed me the +girl's photograph."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I went in his place."</p> + +<p>"And did you find either of them?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said, "why you have told me this story?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to tell you why," he answered. "Because when Pelham heard +you laugh last night he was like a madman. He believed that it was the +voice of Phyllis Poynton. And I—I—when I saw you, I also felt that +miracles were at hand. Look here!"</p> + +<p>He drew a photograph from his pocket and showed it to her. She looked at +it long and earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she admitted, "there is a likeness. It is like what I might have +been years ago. But will you tell me something?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you carry the picture of that girl about with you?"</p> + +<p>He leaned towards her, and at that moment Lady Runton rose from her +place.</p> + +<p>"In the winter garden afterwards," he whispered. "You have asked me the +very question that I wanted to answer!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h3> + +<h4>GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE</h4> + + +<p>There was something strange about Andrew's manner as he moved up to +Duncombe's side. The latter, who was in curiously high spirits, talked +incessantly for several minutes. Then he came to a dead stop. He was +aware that his friend was not listening.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, old chap?" he asked abruptly. "You are +positively glum."</p> + +<p>Andrew Pelham shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Nothing much!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish! What is it?"</p> + +<p>Andrew dropped his voice almost to a whisper. The words came hoarsely. +He seemed scarcely master of himself.</p> + +<p>"The girl's voice tortures me," he declared. "It doesn't seem possible +that there can be two so much alike. And then Spencer's telegram. What +does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"Be reasonable, old fellow!" Duncombe answered. "You knew Phyllis +Poynton well. Do you believe that she would be content to masquerade +under a false name, invent a father, be received here—Heaven knows +how—and meet you, an old friend, as a stranger? The thing's absurd, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Granted. But what about Spencer's telegram?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is an enigma, of course. We can only wait for his solution. I have +wired him the information he asked for. In the meantime<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Well, in the meantime?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to be gained by framing absurd hypotheses. I don't +mind telling you, Andrew, that I find Miss Fielding the most delightful +girl I ever met in my life."</p> + +<p>"Tell me exactly, George, how she compares with the photograph you have +of Phyllis Poynton."</p> + +<p>Duncombe sipped his wine slowly.</p> + +<p>"She is very like it," he said, "and yet there are differences. She is +certainly a little thinner and taller. The features are similar, but the +hair is quite differently arranged. I should say that Miss Fielding is +two or three years older than Phyllis Poynton, and she has the air of +having travelled and been about more."</p> + +<p>"A few months of events," Andrew murmured, "might account for all those +differences."</p> + +<p>Duncombe laughed as he followed his host's lead and rose.</p> + +<p>"Get that maggot out of your brain, Andrew," he exclaimed, "as quickly +as possible. Will you take my arm? Mind the corner."</p> + +<p>They found the drawing-room almost deserted. Runton raised his eyeglass +and looked around.</p> + +<p>"I bet those women have collared the billiard table," he remarked. "Come +along, you fellows."</p> + +<p>They re-crossed the hall and entered the billiard-room. Lady Runton was +playing with the Lord Lieutenant's wife, the Countess of Appleton. The +others were all sitting about, either on the lounge or in the winter +garden beyond. Miss Fielding was standing on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> the threshold, and +Duncombe advanced eagerly towards her. On the way, however, he was +buttonholed by an acquaintance, and the master of the hounds had +something to say to him afterwards about one of his covers. When he was +free, Miss Fielding had disappeared. He made his way into the winter +garden, only to find her sitting in a secluded corner with the Baron. +She looked up at his entrance, but made no sign. Duncombe reluctantly +re-entered the billiard-room, and was captured by his host for a rubber +of bridge.</p> + +<p>The rubber was a long one. Duncombe played badly and lost his money. +Declining to cut in again, he returned to the winter garden. Miss +Fielding and the Baron were still together, only they had now pushed +their chairs a little further back, and were apparently engaged in a +very confidential conversation. Duncombe turned on his heel and +re-entered the billiard-room.</p> + +<p>It was not until the party broke up that he found a chance of speaking +to her. He was sensible at once of a change in her manner. She would +have passed him with a little nod, but he barred her way.</p> + +<p>"You have treated me shockingly," he declared, with a smile which was a +little forced. "You promised to let me show you the winter garden."</p> + +<p>"Did I?" she answered. "I am so sorry. I must have forgotten all about +it. The Baron has been entertaining me delightfully. Good night!"</p> + +<p>He half stood aside.</p> + +<p>"I haven't by any chance offended you, have I?" he asked in a low tone.</p> + +<p>She raised her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" she answered. "Excuse me, won't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> you? I want to speak +to Lady Runton before she goes upstairs."</p> + +<p>Duncombe stood on one side and let her pass with a stiff bow. As he +raised his eyes he saw that Mr. Fielding was standing within a few feet +of him, smoking a cigarette. He might almost have overheard their +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Mr. Fielding," he said, holding out his hand. "Are you +staying down here for long?"</p> + +<p>"For two days, I believe," Mr. Fielding answered. "My daughter makes our +plans."</p> + +<p>He spoke very slowly, but without any accent. Nothing in his appearance, +except perhaps the fact that he wore a black evening tie, accorded with +the popular ideas of the travelling American.</p> + +<p>"If you have an hour to spare," Duncombe said, "it would give me a great +deal of pleasure if you and your daughter would walk down and have a +look over my place. Part of the hall is Elizabethan, and I have some +relics which might interest Miss Fielding."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fielding removed the cigarette from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I thank you very much, sir," he said. "We are Lord Runton's guests, and +our stay is so short that we could scarcely make any arrangements to +visit elsewhere. Glad to have had the pleasure of meeting you all the +same."</p> + +<p>Duncombe sought out his host.</p> + +<p>"Runton, old chap," he said, "do me a favor. Bring that fellow Fielding +and his daughter round to my place before they go."</p> + +<p>Lord Runton laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"Is it a case?" he exclaimed. "And you, our show bachelor, too! Never +mind my chaff, old chap. She's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> a ripping good-looking girl, and money +enough to buy the country."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind your chaff," Duncombe answered, "but will you bring her?"</p> + +<p>Lord Runton looked thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"How the dickens can I? We are all shooting at the Duke's to-morrow, and +I believe they're off on Saturday. You're not in earnest by any chance, +are you, George?"</p> + +<p>"Damnably!" he answered.</p> + +<p>Lord Runton whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"Fielding doesn't shoot," he remarked, "but they're going with us to +Beaumanor. Shall I drop him a hint? He might stay a day longer—just to +make a few inquiries about you on the spot, you know."</p> + +<p>"Get him to stay a day longer, if you can," Duncombe answered, "but +don't give me away. The old chap's none too cordial as it is."</p> + +<p>"I must talk to him," Runton said. "Your Baronetcy is a thundering sight +better than any of these mushroom peerages. He probably doesn't +understand that sort of thing. But what about the girl? Old Von Rothe +has been making the running pretty strong, you know."</p> + +<p>"We all have to take our chance in that sort of thing," Duncombe said +quietly. "I am not afraid of Von Rothe!"</p> + +<p>"I'll do what I can for you," Runton promised. "Good night!"</p> + +<p>Andrew, who had left an hour or so earlier, was sitting in the library +smoking a pipe when his host returned.</p> + +<p>"Not gone to bed yet, then?" Duncombe remarked. "Let me make you a +whisky and soda, old chap. You look a bit tired."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very good of you—I think I will," Andrew answered. "And, George, are +you sure that I should not be putting you out at all if I were to +stay—say another couple of days with you?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe wheeled round and faced his friend. His reply was not +immediate.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," he said, "you know very well that I haven't a pal in the world +I'd sooner have here than you for just as long as you choose to stay, +but—forgive me if I ask you one question. Is it because you want to +watch Miss Fielding that you have changed your mind?"</p> + +<p>"That has a good deal to do with it, George," Andrew said quietly. "If I +left without meeting that young lady again I should be miserable. I want +to hear her speak when she does not know that any one is listening."</p> + +<p>Duncombe crossed the room and laid his hand upon the other's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Andrew, old fellow," he said, "I can't have it. I can't allow even my +best friend to spy upon Miss Fielding. You see—I've come a bit of a +cropper. Quick work, I suppose, you'd say. But I'm there all the same."</p> + +<p>"Who wants to spy upon Miss Fielding?" Andrew exclaimed hoarsely. "She +can be the daughter of a multi-millionaire or a penniless adventurer for +all I care. All I want is to be sure that she isn't Phyllis Poynton."</p> + +<p>"You are not yet convinced?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Duncombe walked to the window and +returned.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," he said, "doesn't what I told you just now make a +difference?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Andrew groaned.</p> + +<p>"Of course it would," he answered, "but—I'm fool enough to feel the +same about Phyllis Poynton."</p> + +<p>Duncombe, in the full glow of sensations which seemed to him to give a +larger and more wonderful outlook on life, felt his sympathies suddenly +awakened. Andrew Pelham, his old chum, sitting there with his huge, +disfiguring glasses and bowed head, was surely the type of all that was +pathetic. He forgot all his small irritation at the other's obstinacy. +He remembered only their long years of comradeship and the tragedy which +loomed over the life of his chosen friend. Once more his arm rested upon +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I'm a selfish brute, Andrew!" he said. "Stay as long as you please, and +get this idea out of your brain. I'm trying to get Miss Fielding and her +father down here, and if I can manage it anyhow I'll leave you two +alone, and you shall talk as long as you like. Come, we'll have a drink +together now and a pipe afterwards."</p> + +<p>He walked across to the sideboard, where the glasses and decanters were +arranged. Then for the first time he saw upon the tray awaiting him a +telegram. He gave a little exclamation as he tore it open.</p> + +<p>Andrew looked up.</p> + +<p>"What is it, George?" he asked. "A telegram?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe stood with his eyes glued upon the oblong strip of paper. A +curious pallor had crept into his face from underneath the healthy tan +of his complexion. Andrew, sightless though he was, seemed to feel the +presence in the room of some exciting influence. He rose to his feet and +moved softly across to the sideboard.</p> + +<p>"Is it a telegram, George?" he whispered hoarsely. "Read it to me. Is it +from Spencer?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe collected himself with an effort.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing," he answered with a little laugh, in which all the +elements of mirth were lacking, "nothing at all! A note from Heggs, my +head-keeper—about some poachers. Confound the fellow!"</p> + +<p>Andrew's hand was suddenly upon the sideboard, travelling furtively +across its shining surface. Duncombe watched it with a curious sense of +fascination. He felt altogether powerless to interfere. He was simply +wondering how long it would be before those long, powerful fingers +seized upon what they sought. He might even then have swept aside the +envelope, but he felt no inclination to do so. The fingers were moving +slowly but surely. Finally, with a little grab, they seized upon it. +Then there was another moment of suspense.</p> + +<p>Slowly the hand was withdrawn. Without a second's warning Duncombe felt +himself held in the grip of a giant. Andrew had him by the throat.</p> + +<p>"You have lied to me, George!" he cried. "There was a telegram!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> + +<h4>"WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?"</h4> + + +<p>It seemed to Duncombe that time stood still. Andrew's face, wholly +disfigured by the hideous dark spectacles, unrecognizable, threatening, +was within a few inches of his own. He felt the other's hot breath upon +his cheek. For a moment there stole through his numbed senses the fear +of more terrible things. And then the grip which held him relaxed. +Andrew stood away gasping. The crisis was over.</p> + +<p>"You lied to me, George. Why?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe did not answer. He could not. It was as though his body had +been emptied of all breath.</p> + +<p>"You meant to keep the contents of that telegram a secret from me. Why? +Was I right after all? Read me that telegram, George. Read it me +truthfully."</p> + +<p>"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said. "He is coming here."</p> + +<p>"Here? Is he giving up the search? Has he failed, then?"</p> + +<p>"He does not say," Duncombe answered. "He says simply that he is coming +here. He has wired for a motor to meet him at Lynn. He may be here +to-night."</p> + +<p>A discordant laugh broke from Pelham's lips.</p> + +<p>"What about your Miss Fielding, now?" he exclaimed. "Why do you suppose +that he is leaving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> Paris, and coming here? I was right. I knew that I +was right."</p> + +<p>Duncombe stood up. His expanse of shirt-front was crumpled and battered. +His white tie was hanging down in ribbons.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Andrew!" he exclaimed. "I am speaking of the girl by whose side +I sat to-night at dinner, who calls herself Miss Fielding, who has—in +plain words—denied that she knows anything of Phyllis Poynton. I want +you to understand this. Whatever she may choose to call herself that +shall be her name. I will not have her questioned or bullied or watched. +If Spencer comes here to do either I have finished with him. I elect +myself her protector. I will stand between her and all suspicion of evil +things."</p> + +<p>"She has found a champion indeed!" Pelham exclaimed fiercely. "With Miss +Fielding I have nothing to do. Yet you had better understand this. If +she be Phyllis Poynton she belongs to me, and not to you. She was mine +before you heard her name. I have watched her grow up from a child, I +taught her to ride and to shoot and to swim. I have watched her +listening to the wind, bending over the flowers in her garden. I have +walked with her over the moor when the twilight fell and the mists rose. +We have seen the kindling of the stars, and we have seen the moon grow +pale and the eastern sky ablaze. I have taught her where to look for the +beautiful things of life. She has belonged to me in all ways, save one. +I am a poor, helpless creature now, George, but, by the gods, I will let +no one rob me of my one holy compensation. She is the girl I love; the +better part of myself."</p> + +<p>"Phyllis Poynton may be all these things to you,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> Duncombe answered. "I +do not know her. I do not recognize her. Find her, if you can; make of +her what you will. All that I ask of you is that you divest your mind of +these senseless suspicions. Seek Phyllis Poynton where you will, but +leave alone the woman whom I love. I will not have her troubled or +annoyed by needless importunities. She says she is Miss Fielding. Then +she is Miss Fielding. It is enough for me. It must be enough for you!"</p> + +<p>"And what about Spencer?" Pelham asked grimly.</p> + +<p>"Spencer in this matter is my servant," Duncombe answered. "If his +search for Phyllis Poynton entails his annoying Miss Fielding, then he +is dismissed. I will have no more to do with the business."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of this man Spencer," Andrew answered. "If you think that +he is the sort of creature whom you can order about like that, I fancy +that you are mistaken. You may try to call him off, if you like, but you +won't succeed. He is searching for Phyllis Poynton, and he is coming +here. I believe that he will find her."</p> + +<p>The windows were wide open, and both men suddenly turned round. There +was no mistaking the sound which came to them from the road outside—the +regular throb and beat of a perfectly balanced engine. Then they heard a +man's voice, cool and precise.</p> + +<p>"Here you are, then, and a sovereign for yourself. A capital little car +this. Good night!"</p> + +<p>The little iron gate opened and closed. A tall man in a loose +travelling-coat, and carrying a small bag, entered. He saw Duncombe +standing at the open window, and waved his hand. As he approached his +boyish face lit up into a smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What luck to find you up!" he exclaimed. "You got my telegram?"</p> + +<p>"An hour ago," Duncombe answered. "This is my friend, Mr. Andrew Pelham. +What will you have?"</p> + +<p>"Whisky and soda, and a biscuit, please," was the prompt reply. "Haven't +upset you, I hope, coming down from the clouds in this fashion?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," Duncombe answered. "You've made us very curious, +though."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" Spencer exclaimed, "what a pity! I came here to ask +questions, not to answer them. You've set me a regular poser, Duncombe. +By Jove! that's good whisky."</p> + +<p>"Help yourself," Duncombe answered. "We won't bother you to-night. I'll +show you a room as soon as you've had a cigarette. Fair crossing?"</p> + +<p>"No idea," Spencer answered. "I slept all the way. Jolly place you've +got here, Duncombe. Nice country, too."</p> + +<p>"There is just one question," Pelham began.</p> + +<p>"Sha'n't answer it—to-night," Spencer interrupted firmly. "I'm dead +sleepy, and I couldn't guarantee to tell the truth. And when to-morrow +comes—I'll be frank with you—I've very little to say. Pardon me, but +where does Mr. Pelham come in in this matter?"</p> + +<p>"Pelham," Duncombe said slowly, "was a neighbor of Miss Poynton's, in +Devonshire. It was through him that I first went to Paris to search for +her."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Glad to meet him, then," he remarked. "There are a few questions I +shall be glad to ask him in the morning."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is one," Pelham said, "which you must answer now."</p> + +<p>Spencer raised his eyebrows. He was standing with his back to them now, +helping himself to sandwiches from a dish upon the sideboard.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, your cook does understand these things," he remarked, with his +mouth full. "No idea I was so hungry. What was that, Mr. Pelham? A +question which must be answered now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You telegraphed to Duncombe to know the names of Lord Runton's +guests, and now you have come here yourself. Why?"</p> + +<p>Spencer helped himself to another sandwich.</p> + +<p>"I came here," he said, "because I didn't seem to be getting on in +Paris. It struck me that the clue to Miss Poynton's disappearance might +after all be on this side of the Channel."</p> + +<p>Pelham guided himself by the table to the sideboard. He stood close to +Spencer.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Spencer," he said, "I am almost blind, and I cannot see your face, +but I want you to tell me the truth. I expect it from you."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," Spencer answered. "I'm awfully sorry for you, of +course, but I really don't see why I should answer your questions at +all, truthfully or untruthfully. I have been making a few inquiries for +my friend Duncombe. At present I regret to say that I have been +unsuccessful. In their present crude state I should prefer keeping my +discoveries, such as they are, to myself."</p> + +<p>Pelham struck the sideboard with his clenched fist so that all the +glasses rattled upon the tray. His face was dark with passion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will not be ignored in this matter," he declared. "Phyllis Poynton +and her brother are nothing to Duncombe. He acted only for me. He cannot +deny it. Ask him for yourself."</p> + +<p>"I do not need to ask him," Spencer answered. "I am perfectly well aware +of the circumstances of the case. All the same, I go about my business +my own way. I am not ready to answer questions from you or anybody +else."</p> + +<p>"You shall tell me this at least," Pelham declared. "You shall tell me +why you telegraphed here for the names of Lord Runton's house party."</p> + +<p>"Simplest thing in the world," Spencer answered, relinquishing his +attack upon the sandwiches, and lighting a cigarette. "I did it to +oblige a friend who writes society notes for the 'New York Herald.'"</p> + +<p>Duncombe gave vent to a little exclamation of triumph. Pelham for the +moment was speechless.</p> + +<p>"Awfully sorry if I misled you in any way," Spencer continued. "I never +imagined your connecting my request with the disappearance of Phyllis +Poynton. Why should I?"</p> + +<p>"The fact is," Duncombe interposed, "there is a girl staying at Runton +Place whose voice Pelham declares is exactly like Phyllis Poynton's, and +whose general appearance, I will admit, is somewhat similar to the +photograph I showed you. It is a coincidence, of course, but beyond that +it is absurd to go. This young lady is a Miss Fielding. She is there +with her father, and they are invited guests, with all the proper +credentials."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is because I am not a lady's man," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> said carelessly, +"but I must admit that all girls' voices sound pretty much alike to me."</p> + +<p>"I wish to Heaven that I could see your face!" Pelham exclaimed, "I +should know then whether you were telling me the truth."</p> + +<p>"The weak point about my temporary profession is," Spencer remarked +thoughtfully, "that it enables even strangers to insult one with +impunity."</p> + +<p>"If I have misjudged you," Pelham said with some dignity, "I am sorry. I +am to understand, then, that you have no news whatever to give us about +the disappearance of Phyllis Poynton and her brother?"</p> + +<p>"Not a scrap!" Spencer answered.</p> + +<p>"I will wish you both good night, then," Pelham said. "No, don't +trouble, George. I can find my way quite well by myself."</p> + +<p>He disappeared, and Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Excitable person, your friend!" Spencer remarked.</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"Very! I am frightened to death that he will make an ass of himself +before Miss Fielding. If he hears her speak he loses his head."</p> + +<p>"Nice girl?" Spencer asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes—very!"</p> + +<p>"What sort of a fellow's the father?"</p> + +<p>"Very quiet. I've scarcely spoken to him. They're Americans. Friends of +Lord Runton's brother, out in New York. Ever heard of them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. A few times."</p> + +<p>"You seem interested."</p> + +<p>"I am—very."</p> + +<p>Duncombe turned suddenly white.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Spencer held his cigarette between his fingers and looked at it +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fielding, of New York," he said, "sailed for America from Havre +last Saturday. His daughter has gone to Russia with a party of friends."</p> + +<p>Duncombe sprang from his seat. His cigarette slipped from his fingers +and fell unheeded upon the carpet.</p> + +<p>"Then who—who are these people?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Spencer shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I thought it worth while," he said, "to come over and find out."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h3> + +<h4>A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER</h4> + + +<p>A few minutes before ten the following morning a mounted messenger from +Runton Place brought the following note for Duncombe:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="letter">"<span class="smcap">Runton Place</span>, <i>Friday Morning</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Duncombe</span>,—Fielding has cried off the shoot +to-day. Says he has a motor coming over for him to try from +Norwich, and his dutiful daughter remains with him. Thought I +would let you know in case you cared to come and look them up. +Best I could do for you.</p> + +<p class="letter">"Ever yours sincerely, </p> + +<p class="letter">"<span class="smcap">Runton</span>."</p></div> + +<p>Duncombe had breakfasted alone. Pelham had asked for something to be +sent up for him, and Spencer, after a cup of coffee in his room, had +gone out. Duncombe did not hesitate for a moment. He started at once for +Runton Place.</p> + +<p>A marvellous change had taken place in the weather since the previous +day. The calm splendor of the early autumn seemed to have vanished. A +strong north wind was blowing, and the sky was everywhere gray and +threatening. The fields of uncut corn were bent, like the waves of the +sea, and the yellow leaves came down from the trees in showers. Piled up +masses of black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> clouds were driven across the sky. Scanty drops of rain +kept falling, an earnest of what was to come as soon as the wind should +fail. Duncombe had almost to fight his way along until, through a +private gate, he entered Runton Park. The house lay down in the valley +about a mile away. To reach it one had to cross a ridge of hills covered +with furze bushes and tumbled fragments of ancient rock.</p> + +<p>Half-way up the first ascent he paused. A figure had struggled into +sight from the opposite side—the figure of a girl. Her skirts and cloak +were being blown wildly about her. She wore a flat Tam-o'-Shanter hat, +from under the confines of which her hair was defying the restraint of +hatpins and elastic. She stood there swaying a little from the violence +of the wind, slim and elegant, notwithstanding a certain intensity of +gaze and bearing. Duncombe felt his heart give a quick jump as he +recognized her. Then he started up the hill as fast as he could go.</p> + +<p>She stood perfectly still, watching him clamber up to her side. Her face +showed no sign of pleasure or annoyance at his coming. He felt at once +that it was not he alone who had realized the coming of the tragedy.</p> + +<p>No words of conventional greeting passed between them as he clambered +breathless to her side. The wind had brought no color into her cheeks. +There were rims under her eyes. She had the appearance of one who had +come into touch with fearsome things.</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me?" she asked. "Why are you here?"</p> + +<p>"To be with you," he answered. "You know why."</p> + +<p>She laughed mirthlessly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Better go back," she exclaimed. "I am no fit companion for any one +to-day. I came out to be alone."</p> + +<p>A gust of wind came tearing up the hillside. They both struggled for +breath.</p> + +<p>"I came," he said, "to find you. I was going to the house. Something has +happened which you ought to know."</p> + +<p>She looked back towards the long white front of the house, and there was +terror in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Something is happening there," she muttered, "and I am afraid."</p> + +<p>He took her gloveless hand. It was as cold as ice. She did not resist +his touch, but her fingers lay passively in his.</p> + +<p>"Let me be your friend," he pleaded. "Never mind what has happened, or +what is going to happen. You are in trouble. Let me share it with you."</p> + +<p>"You cannot," she answered. "You, nor any one else in the world. Let me +go! You don't understand!"</p> + +<p>"I understand more than you think!" he answered.</p> + +<p>She turned her startled eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"I mean that the man whom we employed to trace the whereabouts of +Phyllis Poynton and her brother arrived from Paris last night," he +answered. "He wanted a list of Lord Runton's house party. Can you guess +why?"</p> + +<p>"Go on!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fielding, of New York, left Havre on Saturday<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Stop!"</p> + +<p>Her voice was a staccato note of agony. Between the fingers which were +pressed to her face he could see the slow, painful flushing of her +cheeks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why did you come to tell me this?" she asked in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"You know," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Did you guess last night that we were impostors?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," he answered. "Andrew was tortured with doubts about +you. He believed that you were Phyllis Poynton!"</p> + +<p>"I am!" she whispered. "I was afraid of him all the evening. He must +have known."</p> + +<p>It seemed to Duncombe that the rocks and gorse bushes were spinning +round and the ground was swaying under his feet. The wind, which had +kept them both half breathless, seemed full of mocking voices. She was +an impostor. These were her own words. She was in danger of detection, +perhaps of other things. At that very moment Spencer might have gained +an entrance into Runton Place. He felt uncertain of himself, and all the +time her eyes watched him jealously.</p> + +<p>"Why did you come here?" she cried. "Why do you look at me like that? It +is no concern of yours who I am. Why do you interfere?"</p> + +<p>"Everything that concerns you concerns me," he answered. "I don't care +who you are, or who you say you are. I don't even ask you for any sort +of explanation. I came to warn you about Spencer. For the rest, here am +I your friend whatever happens. You are terrified! Don't go back to the +house. Give me the right to take care of you. I'll do it!"</p> + +<p>Then for the first time a really human expression lit up her face. The +sick fear passed away. Her features were suddenly softer. The light in +her eyes was a beautiful thing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are kind," she murmured, "kinder than I ever dreamed any one could +be who—knew. Will you be kinder still?"</p> + +<p>"Try me!" he begged.</p> + +<p>"Then go away. Forget who I am. Forget who I am not. Shut yourself up in +your study for twenty-four hours, and come out without any memories at +all. Oh, do this for me—do this!" she begged, with a sudden break in +her voice.</p> + +<p>She leaned a little towards him. A long wisp of her hair blew in his +face. A moment of madness came to him with the gust of wind which blew +her almost into his arms. For one exquisite moment he held her. The +violets at her bosom were crushed against his coat. Then she tore +herself away.</p> + +<p>"You are mad," she cried. "It is my fault. Oh, let me go!"</p> + +<p>"Never," he answered, passionately clasping at her hand. "Call yourself +by what name you will, I love you. If you are in trouble, let me help. +Let me go back to the house with you, and we will face it together, +whatever it may be. Come!"</p> + +<p>She wrung her hands. The joy had all gone from her face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what have I done?" she moaned. "Don't you understand that I am an +impostor? The man down there is not my father. I—oh, let me go!"</p> + +<p>She wrenched herself free. She stood away from him, her skirt gathered +up into her hand, prepared for flight.</p> + +<p>"If you would really do me a kindness," she cried, "get Mr. Spencer to +stop his search for me. Tell him to forget that such a person ever +existed. And you, too!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> You must do the same. What I have done, I have +done of my own free will. I am my own mistress. I will not be interfered +with. Listen!"</p> + +<p>She turned a white, intent face towards the house. Duncombe could hear +nothing for the roaring of the wind, but the girl's face was once more +convulsed with terror.</p> + +<p>"What was that?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"I heard nothing," he answered. "What can one hear? The wind is strong +to drown even our voices."</p> + +<p>"And those?" she cried again, pointing with outstretched finger to two +rapidly moving black specks coming towards them along the winding road +which led from the highway to Runton Place.</p> + +<p>Duncombe watched them for a moment.</p> + +<p>"They are the Runton shooting brakes," he declared.</p> + +<p>"I expect Lord Runton and the rest of them are coming back."</p> + +<p>"Coming back!" she repeated, with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"But they were going to shoot all day and dine there. They are not +expected home till past midnight."</p> + +<p>"I expect the shoot is off," Duncombe remarked. "One couldn't possibly +hit anything a day like this. I wonder they ever started."</p> + +<p>Her face was white enough before, but it was deathly now. Her lips +parted, but only a little moan came from them. He heard the rush of her +skirts, and saw her spring forward. He was left alone upon the hilltop.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h3> + +<h4>MR. FIELDING IN A NEW RÔLE</h4> + + +<p>Runton was apparently enjoying the relaxation of having got rid of +practically the whole of its guests for the day. The women servants were +going about their duties faithfully enough, but with a marked absence of +any superfluous energy. Mr. Harrison, the butler, was enjoying a quiet +pipe in his room and a leisurely perusal of the morning paper. Mrs. +Ellis, the much-respected housekeeper, was also in her room comfortably +ensconced in an easy-chair, and studying a new volume of collected menus +which a friend had sent her from Paris. The servants were not exactly +neglecting their work, but every one was appreciating a certain sense of +peace which the emptying of the house from a crowd of more or less +exacting guests had brought about.</p> + +<p>In one room only things were different, and neither Mrs. Ellis nor Mr. +Harrison, nor any of the household, knew anything about that. It was the +principal guest-chamber on the first floor—a large and handsomely +furnished apartment. Barely an hour ago it had been left in spotless +order by a couple of painstaking servants. Just now it had another +aspect.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the room a man lay stretched upon the floor, face +downwards. The blood was slowly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> trickling from a wound in the side of +the head down on to the carpet. With nearly every breath he drew he +groaned. Overturned chairs and tables showed that he had taken part in +no ordinary struggle. The condition of the other man also testified +this.</p> + +<p>The other man was Mr. Fielding. He was down on his knees upon the floor, +rapidly going through the contents of a dark mahogany box, which was +apparently full of papers. Scattered over the carpet by his side were +various strange-looking tools, by means of which he had forced the lock. +Mr. Fielding was not at all his usual self. His face was absolutely +colorless, and every few moments his hand went up to his shoulder-blade +and a shiver went through his whole frame. There was a faint odor of +gunpowder in the room, and somewhere near the feet of the prostrate man +lay a small shining revolver. Nevertheless, Mr. Fielding persevered in +his task.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there came an interruption. Footsteps outside in the corridor +had paused. There was a sharp tapping at the door. The prostrate man +groaned louder than ever, and half turned over, proving that he was not +wholly unconscious. Mr. Fielding closed the box and staggered to his +feet.</p> + +<p>He stood for a moment staring wildly at the door. Who could it be? He +had asked, as a special favor, that he might not be disturbed, and Mr. +Fielding knew how to ask favors of servants. Interruption now meant +disaster, absolute and unqualified—the end, perhaps, of a career in +which he had achieved some success. Big drops of perspiration stood out +upon his forehead, drawn there by the pain and this new fear. Slowly, +and on tiptoe, he drew near the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who is that?" he asked with wonderful calmness.</p> + +<p>"It is I! Let me in," came the swift answer, and Mr. Fielding drew a +little breath of relief. Nevertheless he was angry. He opened the door +and drew the girl in.</p> + +<p>"You fool!" he exclaimed. "I sent you out of the way on purpose. Why +have you come back?"</p> + +<p>She opened her lips, but no words came. The man on the floor groaned +again. She swayed upon her feet. It was all so horrible.</p> + +<p>"Speak, can't you!" he muttered between his teeth. "Things have gone +badly here. I'm wounded, and I'm afraid—I've hurt that chap—pretty +badly."</p> + +<p>"I was in the park," she faltered, "and saw them. They are all coming +back."</p> + +<p>"Coming back?"</p> + +<p>"They are almost here. Sir George Duncombe told me that they could not +shoot because of the wind."</p> + +<p>"The car?"</p> + +<p>"Downstairs—waiting."</p> + +<p>He had forgotten his hurt. He caught up his hat and a coat, and pushed +her out of the room. He locked the door, and thrust the key into his +pocket. As they walked down the corridor he lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>A footman met them in the hall.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman has called to see you, sir—a Mr. Spencer," he announced. +"I have shown him into the library."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fielding appeared to hesitate for a moment.</p> + +<p>"It is the man who wants to sell us the car," he exclaimed, turning +towards the girl, "but I haven't even seen it yet. Better tell him to +wait for a quarter of an hour," he added, turning towards the footman. +"I'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> just drive down to the lodge gates and back. Come along, Sybil."</p> + +<p>She followed him to the front door. A man was seated at the wheel of the +motor car, and turned his head quickly as they approached. Mr. Fielding +nodded pleasantly, though his face was white with excruciating pain.</p> + +<p>"Kept you waiting, I'm afraid," he said. "Can you drive at all in a wind +like this?"</p> + +<p>"Jump in, sir, and see," the man answered. "Is the young lady coming?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fielding nodded, and stepped into the front seat. The girl was +already in the tonneau. The man slipped in his clutch, and they glided +round the broad, circular sweep in front of the entrance. Just as they +started the wagonette drew up.</p> + +<p>"We sha'n't be more than a few minutes," Mr. Fielding cried out, waving +his hand. "Sorry you've lost your day's sport."</p> + +<p>"Hold on a minute, and I'll come with you," Runton called out. "That car +looks like going."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Fielding did not hear.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Duncombe, who had returned from the park by the fields, was crossing the +road to enter his own gates, when a black speck far away on the top of +the hill attracted his attention. He stood still gazing at it, and was +instantly aware that it was approaching him at an almost incredible +speed. It gathered shape swiftly, and he watched it with a fascination +which kept him rooted to the spot. Above the wind he could hear the +throbbing of its engines. He saw it round a slight curve in the road, +with two wheels in the air, and a skid which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> seemed for a moment as +though it must mean destruction. Mud and small stones flew up around it. +The driver was crouching forward over the wheel, tense and motionless. +Duncombe moved to the side of the road to let it pass, with a little +exclamation of anger.</p> + +<p>Then it came more clearly into sight, and he forgot his anger in his +amazement. The seat next the driver was occupied by a man leaning far +back, whose face was like the face of the dead. Behind was a solitary +passenger. She was leaning over, as though trying to speak to her +companion. Her hair streamed wild in the wind, and on her face was a +look of blank and fearful terror. Duncombe half moved forward. She saw +him, and touched the driver's arm. His hand seemed to fly to the side of +the car, and his right foot was jammed down. With grinding of brakes and +the screaming of locked wheels, the car was brought to a standstill +within a few feet of him. He sprang eagerly forward. She was already +upon her feet in the road.</p> + +<p>"Sir George," she said, "your warning, as you see, was barely in time. +We are adventurer and adventuress—detected. I suppose you are a +magistrate. Don't you think that you ought to detain us?"</p> + +<p>"What can I do to help you?" he asked simply.</p> + +<p>She looked at him eagerly. There were mud spots all up her gown, even +upon her face. Her hair was wildly disordered. She carried her hat in +her hand.</p> + +<p>"You mean it?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"You know that I do!"</p> + +<p>She turned and looked up the road along which they had come. There was +no soul in sight. She looked even up at the long line of windows which +frowned down upon them from the back of the Hall. They,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> too, were +empty. She thrust a long envelope suddenly into his hand.</p> + +<p>"Guard this for me," she whispered. "Don't let any one know that you +have it. Don't speak of it to any one. Keep it until I can send for it."</p> + +<p>He thrust it into his inner pocket and buttoned his coat.</p> + +<p>"It is quite safe," he said simply.</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed her gratitude upon him. For the first time he saw +something in her face—heard it in her tone, which made his heart beat. +After all she was human.</p> + +<p>"You are very good to me," she murmured. "Believe me, I am not quite as +bad as I seem. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He turned with her towards the car, and she gave a low cry. He too +started. The car was a mile away, tearing up a hill, and almost out of +sight. In the lane behind they could hear the sound of galloping horses. +He caught her by the wrist, dragged her through the gate, and behind a +great shrub on the lawn.</p> + +<p>"Stay there!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Don't move. I will come back."</p> + +<p>Half a dozen horsemen were coming along the lane at steeplechase pace. +Lord Runton, on his wonderful black horse, which no man before had ever +seen him gallop save across the softest of country, pulled up outside +the gate.</p> + +<p>"Seen a motor go by, Duncombe?" he called out.</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"Rather!" he answered. "Fielding and Miss Fielding in it. Going like +Hell!"</p> + +<p>Runton waved his companions on, and leaned down to Duncombe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Beastly unpleasant thing happened, Duncombe," he said. "Fielding and +his daughter have bolted. Fielding seems to have half killed a messenger +who came down from London to see Von Rothe, and stolen some papers. Fact +of the matter is he's not Fielding at all—and as for the girl! Lord +knows who she is. Sorry for you, Duncombe. Hope you weren't very hard +hit!"</p> + +<p>He gathered up his reins.</p> + +<p>"We've sent telegrams everywhere," he said, "but the beast has cut the +telephone, and Von Rothe blasphemes if we talk about the police. It's a +queer business."</p> + +<p>He rode off. Duncombe returned where the girl was standing. She was +clutching at the branches of the shrub as though prostrate with fear, +but at his return she straightened herself. How much had she heard he +wondered.</p> + +<p>"Don't move!" he said.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Can any one see me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Not from the road."</p> + +<p>"From the house?"</p> + +<p>"They could," he admitted, "but it is the servants' dinner hour. Don't +you notice how quiet the house is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She was very white. She seemed to find some difficulty in speaking. +There was fear in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It would not be safe for you to leave here at present," he said. "I am +going to take you into a little room leading out of my study. No one +ever goes in it. You will be safe there for a time."</p> + +<p>"If I could sit down—for a little while."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>He took her arm, and led her unresistingly towards the house. The +library window was closed, but he opened it easily, and helped her +through. At the further end of the room was an inner door, which he +threw open.</p> + +<p>"This is a room which no one except myself ever enters," he said. "I +used to do a little painting here sometimes. Sit down, please, in that +easy-chair. I am going to get you a glass of wine."</p> + +<p>They heard the library door suddenly opened. A voice, shaking with +passion, called out his name.</p> + +<p>"Duncombe, are you here? Duncombe!"</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence. They could hear him moving about the room.</p> + +<p>"Hiding, are you? Brute! Come out, or I'll—by heavens, I'll shoot you +if you don't tell me the truth. I heard her voice in the lane. I'll +swear to it."</p> + +<p>Duncombe glanced quickly towards his companion. She lay back in the +chair in a dead faint.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h3> + +<h4>A WOMAN'S CRY</h4> + + +<p>The three men were sitting at a small round dining-table, from which +everything except the dessert had been removed. Duncombe filled his own +glass and passed around a decanter of port. Pelham and Spencer both +helped themselves almost mechanically. A cloud of restraint had hung +over the little party. Duncombe raised his glass and half emptied its +contents. Then he set it down and leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I am ready for the inquisition. Go on, Andrew."</p> + +<p>Pelham fingered his own glass nervously. He seemed to find his task no +easy one.</p> + +<p>"George," he said, "we are old friends. I want you to remember it. I +want you also to remember that I am in a hideous state of worry and +nerves"—he passed his hand over his forehead just above his eyes as +though they were hurting him. "I am not behaving to you as a guest +should to his host. I admit it freely. I have lost my temper more than +once during the last twenty-four hours. I am sorry! Forgive me if you +can, George!"</p> + +<p>"Willingly, Andrew," Duncombe answered. "I shall think no more about +it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"At the same time," Pelham continued, "there is another point to be +considered. Have you been quite fair to me, George? Remember that +Phyllis Poynton is the one person whose existence reconciles me to life. +You had never even heard her name before I sent for you. You went +abroad, like the good fellow you are, to find her for me. You assure me +that you have discovered—nothing. Let me put you upon your honor, +George. Is this absolutely true?"</p> + +<p>"I have discovered nothing about Phyllis Poynton," Duncombe declared +quietly.</p> + +<p>"About Miss Fielding then?"</p> + +<p>"Phyllis Poynton and Miss Fielding are two very different persons," +Duncombe declared.</p> + +<p>"That may be so," Pelham said, "although I find it hard to believe that +God ever gave to two women voices so exactly similar. Yet if you are +assured that this is so, why not be altogether frank with me?"</p> + +<p>"What have you to complain of?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"Something has happened at Runton Place, in which Mr. Fielding and his +daughter are concerned," Pelham continued. "I have heard all manner of +strange rumors. This afternoon I distinctly heard the girl's voice in +the lane outside. She was crying out as though in fear. A few minutes +later I heard you speaking to some one in the library. Yet when I +entered the room you would not answer me."</p> + +<p>"Supposing I grant everything that you say, Andrew," Duncombe answered. +"Supposing I admit that strange things have happened with regard to Mr. +Fielding and his daughter which have resulted in their leaving Runton +Place—even that she was there in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> the lane this afternoon—how does all +this concern you?"</p> + +<p>"Because," Pelham declared, striking the table with his fist, "I am not +satisfied that the girl who has been staying at Runton Place, and +calling herself Miss Fielding, is not in reality Phyllis Poynton."</p> + +<p>Duncombe lit a cigarette, and passed the box round.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what they are saying to-night of Mr. Fielding and his +daughter?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"That the one is a robber, and the other an adventuress," Duncombe +answered. "This much is certainly true. They have both left Runton Place +at a moment's notice, and without taking leave of their host and +hostess. Remember, I never knew Phyllis Poynton. You did! Ask yourself +whether she is the sort of young person to obtain hospitality under +false pretences, and then abuse it—to associate herself in a fraud with +a self-confessed robber."</p> + +<p>"The idea," Pelham said quietly, "is absurd."</p> + +<p>"While we are on the subject," Spencer remarked, drawing the cigarettes +towards him, "may I ask you a few questions, Mr. Pelham? For instance, +had Miss Poynton any relations in France?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge," Pelham answered. "I have known both her and her +brother for a great many years, and I never heard either of them mention +any."</p> + +<p>"Why did she go to Paris, then?"</p> + +<p>"To meet her brother."</p> + +<p>"And why did he go abroad?"</p> + +<p>"It was a whim, I think. Just a desire to see a few foreign countries +before he settled down to live the life of a country gentleman."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You believe that he had no other reason?"</p> + +<p>"I think I may go so far as to say that I am sure of it," Pelham +answered.</p> + +<p>"One more question," Spencer added, intervening.</p> + +<p>But the question remained unasked. The butler had opened the dining-room +door and was announcing Lord Runton.</p> + +<p>Duncombe rose to his feet in surprise. For the moment a sudden fear drew +the color from his cheeks.</p> + +<p>He looked apprehensively towards his unexpected visitor. Lord Runton, +however, showed no signs of any great discomposure. He was wearing his +ordinary dinner clothes, and in reply to Duncombe's first question +assured him that he had dined.</p> + +<p>"I will try a glass of your port, if I may, George," he declared. +"Thanks!"</p> + +<p>The butler had wheeled a chair up to the table for him, and left the +room. Lord Runton filled his glass and sent the decanter round. Then he +turned towards Spencer, to whom he had just been introduced.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Spencer," he said, "my visit to-night is mainly to you. I dare say +you are aware that a somewhat unpleasant thing has happened at my house. +My people tell me that you called there this morning and inquired for +Mr. Fielding."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Quite true," he answered. "I called, but did not see him. He appears to +have left somewhat hurriedly while I was waiting."</p> + +<p>"You did not even catch a glimpse of him?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"You know Mr. Fielding by sight, I presume?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have seen him in Paris once or twice," Spencer answered.</p> + +<p>"You will not think me impertinent for asking you these questions, I am +sure," Lord Runton continued apologetically, "but could you describe Mr. +Fielding to me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Spencer answered. "He was tall and thin, wears glasses, was +clean-shaven, bald, and limped a little."</p> + +<p>Lord Runton nodded.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said. "I presume that your visit this morning was one of +courtesy. You are acquainted with Mr. Fielding?"</p> + +<p>"I have not that pleasure," Spencer answered. "I am afraid I must +confess that my visit was purely one of curiosity."</p> + +<p>"Curiosity!" Lord Runton repeated.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Do you mind passing those excellent cigarettes of yours, +Duncombe?"</p> + +<p>Lord Runton hesitated for a moment. He was conscious of a certain +restraint in Spencer's answers. Suddenly he turned towards him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Spencer," he said, "may I ask if you are Mr. Jarvis Spencer, of the +'Daily Messenger'—the Mr. Spencer who was mentioned in connection with +the investigations into the Lawson estates?"</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I am that person."</p> + +<p>"Then," Lord Runton continued, "I want to tell you exactly what has +happened to-day in my house, and to ask your advice. May I?"</p> + +<p>"If our host has no objection," Spencer answered, glancing towards +Pelham.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"None whatever," Duncombe answered, also glancing towards Pelham.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Pelham raised his head.</p> + +<p>"If Lord Runton desires it, I will withdraw," he said slowly. "At the +same time I must confess that I, too, am interested in this matter. If +Lord Runton has no objection to my presence I should like to remain. My +discretion goes without saying."</p> + +<p>Duncombe moved uneasily in his chair. His eyes sought Spencer's for +guidance, but found his head averted. Lord Runton raised his eyebrows +slightly at what he considered a somewhat vulgar curiosity, but his +reply was prompt.</p> + +<p>"You are a friend of Duncombe's, Mr. Pelham," he said, "and that is +enough. I have to ask not only you, but all three of you, to consider +what I am going to tell you as absolutely confidential."</p> + +<p>They all signified their assent. Lord Runton continued:—</p> + +<p>"Mr. and Miss Fielding came to me with letters from my brother, and with +many convincing proofs of their identity. We none of us had the +slightest suspicion concerning them. Their behavior was exactly what it +should have been. Nothing about them excited remark in any way, except +the unusual number of telegrams and telephone messages which Mr. +Fielding was always receiving. That, however, was quite in accord with +our ideas of an American business man, and didn't seem to us in the +least remarkable."</p> + +<p>"The telegrams were delivered through a neighboring office?" Spencer +asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Lord Runton answered, "but they were all in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> code. I happen to +know that because the postmaster brought the first one up himself, and +explained that he was afraid that he must have made some mistake as the +message was incomprehensible. Fielding only laughed, and gave the man a +sovereign. The message was absolutely correct, he declared. He told me +afterwards that whenever he was speculating he always coded his +messages, and it seemed perfectly reasonable."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Just so!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>"This morning," Lord Runton continued, "Mr. Fielding rather upset our +plans. We were all to have spent the day at the Duke's, and dined there. +There was a big shoot for the men, as you know. At breakfast-time, +however, Mr. Fielding announced that he had a man coming over with a +motor car from Norwich for them to try, and begged to be excused. So we +had to go without them.</p> + +<p>"Von Rothe was staying with me, as you know, and just before we started +he had a telegram that a messenger from the Embassy was on his way down. +He hesitated for some time as to whether he ought not to stay at home so +as to be here when he arrived, but we persuaded him to come with us, and +promised to send him back after luncheon. When we got to Chestow, +however, the wind had become a gale, and it was impossible to shoot +decently. Von Rothe was a little uneasy all the time, I could see, so he +and I and a few of the others returned here, and the rest went up to +Chestow. Just as we arrived Fielding passed us in a great motor car with +his daughter behind. When we got to the house Von Rothe inquired for the +messenger. He was told that he was in Mr. Fielding's sitting-room, but +when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> we got there we found the door locked, and through the key-hole we +could hear a man groaning. We broke the door in and found Von Rothe's +messenger half unconscious, and a rifled despatch box upon the floor. He +has given us no coherent account of what has happened yet, but it is +quite certain that he was attacked and robbed by Mr. Fielding."</p> + +<p>"What was stolen?" Spencer asked. "Money?"</p> + +<p>"No, a letter," Lord Runton answered. "Von Rothe says very little, but I +never saw a man so broken up. He has left for London to-night."</p> + +<p>"The matter is in the hands of the police, of course?" Spencer asked.</p> + +<p>Lord Runton shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Von Rothe took me into his room and locked the door a few minutes after +we had discovered what had happened. He implored me to keep the whole +affair from the Press and from publicity in any form. His whole career +was at stake, he said, and very much more than his career. All that we +could do was to follow Mr. Fielding and drag him back by force if we +could. Even then he had little hope of recovering the letter. We did our +best, but, of course, we had no chance. Mr. Fielding and his daughter +simply drove off. Von Rothe is dealing with the affair in his own way."</p> + +<p>"It is a most extraordinary story," Spencer said quietly.</p> + +<p>Lord Runton turned towards him.</p> + +<p>"I have treated you with confidence, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Will you +tell me now why you called at my house to see Mr. Fielding to-day?"</p> + +<p>Spencer hesitated, but only for a moment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly," he said. "I came because I knew that Mr. Fielding was +half-way to America, and his daughter in Russia. Some friends of mine +were curious to know who your guests could be."</p> + +<p>Pelham raised his head.</p> + +<p>"You lied to me then!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I had as much right to lie to you," Spencer answered calmly, "as you +had to ask me questions. I had<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>He stopped short in the middle of his sentence. The faces of the three +men were a study in varying expressions. From some other part of the +house there came to them the sound of a woman's sudden cry of +terror—the cry of a woman who had awakened suddenly to look into the +face of death. Duncombe's uplifted glass fell with a crash upon the +table. The red wine trickled across the table-cloth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h3> + +<h4>LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS</h4> + + +<p>Duncombe was out of the room in a very few seconds. The others hesitated +for a moment whether to follow him or not. Spencer was the first to rise +to his feet and moved towards the door. Lord Runton and Pelham followed +a moment or two later. Outside in the hall the house was perfectly +silent.</p> + +<p>Duncombe reached the library door just in time to find himself +confronted by half a dozen of the men and women servants coming from the +back of the house. With his hand upon the door-knob he waved them back.</p> + +<p>"Be so good, Mrs. Harrison," he said to the housekeeper, "as to keep +better order in the servants' hall. We could hear some girls calling or +laughing in the dining-room."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir," Mrs. Harrison answered with some dignity, "the noise, +whatever it was, did not come from the servants' quarters. We fancied +that it came from your library."</p> + +<p>"Quite impossible," Duncombe answered coolly. "If I require any one I +will ring."</p> + +<p>He passed through the door and locked it on the inside. In half a dozen +hasty strides he was across the room and inside the smaller apartment +where he had left the girl. With a little gasp of relief he realized +that she was there still. She was pale, and a spot of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> color was blazing +in her cheeks. Her hair and dress were a little disordered. With +trembling fingers she was fastening a little brooch into her blouse as +he entered. A rush of night air struck him from a wide-open window.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" he called out.</p> + +<p>"I have been terrified," she answered. "I am sorry I called out. I could +not help it. A man came here—through the window. He talked so fast that +I could scarcely hear what he said, but he wanted that paper. I tried to +make him understand that I had not got it, but he did not believe +me—and he was rude."</p> + +<p>Duncombe shut down the window, swearing softly to himself.</p> + +<p>"I cannot stay with you," he said, "just now. The whole house is alarmed +at your cry. Listen!"</p> + +<p>There was a loud knocking at the library door. Duncombe turned hastily +away.</p> + +<p>"I must let them in," he said. "I will come back to you."</p> + +<p>She pointed to the window.</p> + +<p>"He is coming back," she said, "at twelve o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Do you wish me to give up the paper?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I will be with you when he comes—before then. I must get +rid of these men first."</p> + +<p>He closed the door softly, and drew the curtain which concealed it. Then +he opened the library window, and a moment afterwards the door.</p> + +<p>"Come in, you fellows," he said. "I scarcely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> know what I was doing when +I locked the door. I fancy one of the housemaids has been seeing ghosts +in the garden. I saw something white in amongst the shrubs, but I could +find nothing. Come on out with me."</p> + +<p>Spencer followed with a perfectly grave face. Lord Runton looked +puzzled. Pelham did not attempt to leave the library. Spencer drew his +host a little on one side.</p> + +<p>"What a rotten liar you are, George!" he said. "I don't think that even +Runton was taken in."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it sounded a little thin," Duncombe answered coolly. "Put it +this way, then, so far as you are concerned. The shriek occurred in my +house. I've no explanation to offer to anybody."</p> + +<p>"I like the sound of that better, Duncombe," he remarked. "Hullo! What's +the matter with Runton?"</p> + +<p>Lord Runton was calling to them.</p> + +<p>"You've had a visitor who was in a hurry, old chap!" he remarked. "Send +for a lantern."</p> + +<p>Duncombe concealed his annoyance.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to alarm the whole household," he said. "I've a little +electric torch in my study. I'll fetch that."</p> + +<p>He brought it out. The progress of a man from the road to the small +window, towards which Duncombe glanced every now and then +apprehensively, was marked by much destruction. The intruder had +effected his exit either in great haste or in a singularly unfortunate +manner. He had apparently missed the gate, which at this point was only +a small hand one, and in clambering over the fence he had broken the +topmost strand of wire. He had blundered into a bed of wallflowers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +which were all crushed and downtrodden, and snapped off a rose tree in +the middle. Below the window were distinct traces of footmarks. Lord +Runton, who held the torch, was becoming excited.</p> + +<p>"Duncombe," he said, "there is something which I have not told you yet. +I have had numerous reports in about the car, and was able to trace it +as far as Lynn, but they all agreed in saying that it contained only two +persons—the driver and the man who called himself Fielding. What became +of the girl?"</p> + +<p>"I have no idea," Duncombe answered steadily.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," Lord Runton continued, "but don't you think it possible +that—without your knowledge, of course—she may be hidden somewhere +about here? That cry was not like the cry of a housemaid. Let us have +the whole place searched."</p> + +<p>Duncombe shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"As you will," he answered. "I am certain, however, that it will be +useless. There is no place here where any one could hide."</p> + +<p>"Your servants may know something," Runton suggested.</p> + +<p>"I have already questioned them," Duncombe answered.</p> + +<p>"Come along, Mr. Spencer," Lord Runton exclaimed, "let us search the +grounds."</p> + +<p>Spencer shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Waste of time, Lord Runton," he answered. "If you really want to +discover the whereabouts of this missing young lady, and she should by +any chance be close at hand, I should recommend you to induce Sir George +to let you search the room to which those footsteps lead."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The library," Duncombe interrupted quickly. "Search it by all means, if +you like. I have done so myself already."</p> + +<p>Spencer was facing the house.</p> + +<p>"The library!" he remarked reflectively. "Ah!"</p> + +<p>He stooped down to light a cigarette. Suddenly he felt Duncombe's hot +breath upon his cheek. In the momentary glow of the match he caught a +silhouette of a pale, angry face, whose eyes were flashing upon him.</p> + +<p>"This isn't your affair, Spencer. Shut up!"</p> + +<p>Spencer blew out the match deliberately. They both followed Lord Runton +to the library. Pelham was standing in the middle of the room. He had +the appearance of a man listening intently.</p> + +<p>"George," he asked sharply, "what is on the north side of this room?"</p> + +<p>"The wall!" Duncombe answered.</p> + +<p>"And beyond?"</p> + +<p>"A passage and the billiard-room."</p> + +<p>Pelham seemed dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>"I fancied," he muttered—"but I suppose it must have been fancy. Do the +women servants use that passage?"</p> + +<p>"Of course! Upon my word," Duncombe added, with a nervous little laugh, +"you all seem to be trying to make my house into a Maskelyne and Cooke's +home of mystery. Let us go into the dining-room and have a whisky and +soda."</p> + +<p>"Not for me, thanks," Lord Runton declared. "I must go back. The real +object of my coming here, Duncombe, was to see if the Mr. Spencer who +called at Runton Place to-day was really Mr. Jarvis Spencer, and if so +to ask him whether he would help me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To what extent, Lord Runton?" Spencer asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"To the extent of recovering, or attempting to recover, the papers which +were stolen from the Baron Von Rothe," Lord Runton said. "The Baron was +a guest in my house, and I feel the occurrence very much. He will not +let me even mention the matter to the police, but I feel sure that he +could not object to Mr. Spencer's taking the matter in hand."</p> + +<p>"I think you will find," Spencer said, "that Von Rothe has already +placed the matter in the hands of his own people. The German secret +service is pretty active over here, you know. I have come in contact +with it once or twice."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, for my own satisfaction," Lord Runton continued, "I +should like the matter inquired into by you, Mr. Spencer."</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sure whether I am free to help you or not," Spencer said +slowly. "May I come and see you to-morrow morning?"</p> + +<p>"If you prefer it," Lord Runton said doubtfully. "Come as early as +possible. Good night, Duncombe! I should like to know who your nocturnal +visitor was."</p> + +<p>"If he comes again," Duncombe said, "I may be able to tell you."</p> + +<p>He walked to his desk, and taking out a revolver, slipped it into his +pocket. Then he rang the bell for Lord Runton's carriage. It seemed to +Duncombe that there was a shade of coolness in his visitor's manner as +he took his leave. He drew Spencer a little on one side.</p> + +<p>"I want you to promise to come and see me in any case to-morrow +morning," he said. "There is something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> which I should prefer saying to +you in my own house to saying here."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, "I will come. I can promise that much at least."</p> + +<p>Lord Runton departed. Pelham went off to bed. Spencer and his host were +left alone in the library.</p> + +<p>"Billiards, or a whisky and soda in the smoke-room?" the latter asked. +"I know that you are not a late bird."</p> + +<p>"Neither, thanks. Just a word with you here," Spencer answered.</p> + +<p>Duncombe paused on his way to the door. Spencer was standing in a +reflective attitude, with his hands behind his back, gently balancing +himself upon his toes.</p> + +<p>"I am very much disposed," he said, "to accept Lord Runton's offer. Have +you any objection?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I have," Duncombe answered. "You are working for me."</p> + +<p>"Was working for you," Spencer corrected gently. "That is all over, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Duncombe exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Spencer stood squarely upon his feet. He looked a little tired.</p> + +<p>"My engagement from you was to find Miss Phyllis Poynton," he said +softly. "You and I are perfectly well aware that the young lady in +question is—well, a few yards behind that curtain," he said, motioning +with his head towards it. "My task is accomplished, and I consider +myself a free man."</p> + +<p>Duncombe was silent for a moment. He walked restlessly to the window and +back again.</p> + +<p>"How did you find out that she was here?" he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>Spencer looked a little disgusted.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," he said, "any one with the brains of a mouse must have +discovered that. Why, Lord Runton, without any of the intimations which +I have received, is a little suspicious. That is merely a matter of A B +C. There were difficulties, I admit, and I am sorry to say that I have +never solved them. I cannot tell you at this moment how it comes about +that a young lady, brought up in the country here, and from all I can +learn an ordinary, unambitious, virtuous sort of young person, should +disappear from England in search of a missing brother, and return in a +few months the companion of one of the most dangerous and brilliant +members of the French secret service. This sort of thing is clean beyond +me, I admit. I will be frank with you, Duncombe. I have met with +difficulties in this case which I have never met with before—peculiar +difficulties."</p> + +<p>"Go on!" Duncombe exclaimed eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I have many sources of information in Paris," Spencer continued slowly. +"I have acquaintances amongst waiters, cabmen, café-proprietors, +detectives, and many such people. I have always found them most useful. +I went amongst them, making careful inquiries about Phyllis Poynton and +her brother. They were like men struck dumb. Their mouths were closed +like rat-traps. The mention of either the boy or the girl seemed to +change them as though like magic from pleasant, talkative men and women, +very eager to make the best of their little bit of information, into +surly idiots, incapable of understanding or answering the slightest +question. It was the most extraordinary experience I have ever come +across."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe was breathlessly interested.</p> + +<p>"What do you gather from it?" he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I can only surmise," Spencer said slowly, "I can only surmise the +existence of some power, some force or combination of forces behind all +this, of the nature of which I am entirely ignorant. I am bound to admit +that there is a certain amount of fascination to me in the contemplation +of any such thing. The murder of that poor girl, for instance, who was +proposing to give you information, interests me exceedingly."</p> + +<p>Duncombe shuddered at the recollection. The whole scene was before him +once more, the whole series of events which had made his stay in Paris +so eventful. He laid his hand upon Spencer's arm.</p> + +<p>"Spencer," he said, "you speak as though your task were accomplished. It +isn't. Phyllis Poynton may indeed be where you say, but if so it is +Phyllis Poynton with the halter about her neck, with the fear of +terrible things in her heart. It is not you nor I who is the jailer of +her captivity. It is some power which has yet to be discovered. Our task +is not finished yet. To-night I will try to question her about this +network of intrigue into which she seems to have been drawn. If she will +see you, you too shall ask her about it. Don't think of deserting us +yet."</p> + +<p>"My dear Duncombe," Spencer said, "I may as well confess at once that +the sole interest I felt in Lord Runton's offer was that it is closely +connected with the matter we have been discussing."</p> + +<p>"You shall have my entire confidence, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "The +man who called himself Fielding was badly wounded, and he passed here +almost unconscious. He entrusted the paper or let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>ter, or whatever it +was, he stole from Von Rothe's messenger, to his so-called daughter, and +she in her turn passed it on to me. It is at this moment in my +possession."</p> + +<p>Spencer looked very serious.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," he said, "I congratulate you upon your pluck, but not +upon your discretion. You are interfering in what may turn out to be a +very great matter—a matter in which a few lives are like the pawns +which are swept from the chess-board. Does any one know this?"</p> + +<p>"She and I only! You heard her shriek?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"A man threw up her window and climbed in. He demanded the packet. He +searched the room. When he left her he declared that he should return at +twelve to-night, and if she did not hand it to him then he threatened +her."</p> + +<p>Spencer smiled, and rubbed his hands softly together.</p> + +<p>"Really," he murmured, "this is most interesting. I am with you, +Duncombe. With you altogether! There is only one more question."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"You did not know Phyllis Poynton. You took up this search for her out +of your friendship for Pelham. You are a rich man, young, strong, with +every capacity for enjoyment. What induces you to risk your life in an +adventure of this sort? You see, I don't mince words."</p> + +<p>Then Duncombe became grave. His face fell into firm, hard lines. Yet as +he spoke there was something boyish about his expression.</p> + +<p>"It is a fair question," he answered. "You won't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> understand me. I don't +understand myself. I've a brilliant galaxy of fools behind me. They've +made the pages of history interesting. They've been the butt always of +wiser men such as you, Spencer. The girl in that room may be Phyllis +Poynton or the worst adventuress who ever lied her way through the mazes +of intrigue, but I love her! She's in my life—a part of it. If I lose +her—well, you know what life is like when the flame has gone and only +the embers burn."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded very softly.</p> + +<p>"That is sufficient!" he said. "You speak of things that I myself do not +understand. But that is nothing. I know that they exist. But<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"But what about Pelham?"</p> + +<p>"Pelham has no prior claim," he answered. "As soon as she is safe he +shall know the whole truth. I would tell him at this moment but that I +am a little afraid of him. He would never understand, as we can, the +intricacy of the situation. And now—to the prosaic."</p> + +<p>He rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Groves," he told the butler, "I am hungry. Bring me in anything you can +rake up for supper on a tray, and a pint of champagne."</p> + +<p>Spencer raised his eyebrows and smiled. Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"For her, of course," he said. "I am going to take it in, and I want you +to stay here. It is past eleven o'clock already."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h3> + +<h4>HER FIRST KISS</h4> + + +<p>"I was never," she declared, "quite so pleased to see any one in all my +life. I was wondering whether it would occur to you that I was +starving."</p> + +<p>He set the tray down for her, placed a chair in front of the table, and +busied himself opening the wine. All the time he was looking at her.</p> + +<p>"Whatever have you been doing to yourself?" he asked at length.</p> + +<p>She laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had to amuse myself somehow," she answered. "I've done my hair a +new way, rearranged all my ornaments, and really I don't think a man has +a right to such a delightful manicure set. I felt terribly nervous in +the lavatory, though. I could hear some one in the billiard-room all the +time."</p> + +<p>"That's all right!" he declared. "I've locked the door there, and have +the key in my pocket. No one can get in from that side."</p> + +<p>"Please talk, and don't watch me," she begged. "I'm ashamed to be so +hungry."</p> + +<p>He smiled and helped her to some more chicken. If he talked he was +scarcely conscious of what he said. All the time his eyes kept straying +towards her. She had taken off her jacket and was dressed simply enough +in a blouse of some soft white material and a dark skirt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> Everything, +from the ornaments at her neck, the dull metal waistband, and the trim +shoes, seemed to him to be carefully chosen, and the best of their sort. +She wore no rings, and her fingers had the rosy pinkness of health. If +she had seemed graceful to him before in the drawing-room of Runton +Place, and surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the +country, she seemed more than ever so now, seated in the somewhat worn +chair of his little studio. The color, too, seemed to have come back to +her cheeks. She seemed to have regained in some measure her girlishness. +Her eyes were ever ready to laugh into his. She chattered away as though +the world after all contained nothing more serious for her than for any +other girl. Duncombe hated to strike another note, yet he knew that +sooner or later it must be done.</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure that you will not have anything else?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely, thanks! I have never enjoyed anything so much in my life."</p> + +<p>He glanced at his watch. It was half-past eleven.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he said, "that I am going to be a nuisance to you, but +one's friends often are that. I want to be your friend. I want to prove +myself such. I am not an inquisitive person, by any means, but fate has +declared that I should be your inquisitor. There are some questions +which I am bound to ask you."</p> + +<p>Her face grew suddenly grave.</p> + +<p>"There is so little," she murmured, "which I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"We shall see," he answered. "In the first place, Lord Runton has been +here. He is one of my oldest friends, and a very good fellow. He came to +tell me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> that Von Rothe had been robbed in his house of some valuable +papers. He came partly to ask my advice. All the time I was sitting +opposite to him, with those papers in my pocket."</p> + +<p>She looked at him strangely.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you gave them up to him."</p> + +<p>"I did not," he answered. "You know very well that I did not."</p> + +<p>"It was your duty," she said in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. On the other hand," he continued, "you trusted me. The +papers are safe."</p> + +<p>"Does he know that you have them?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He knows nothing!"</p> + +<p>She looked at him steadfastly—not with any appearance of doubting his +word, and yet as though she were revolving something in her mind +concerning him.</p> + +<p>"I am thinking," she said, "how much better it would have been for both +of us if we had never met."</p> + +<p>"The fates thought otherwise," he answered. "I searched Paris for you, +only to find you at my gates. The fates meant you to be my friend. We +must be careful not to disappoint them."</p> + +<p>She shook her head a little wistfully.</p> + +<p>"You have been very good to me," she said, "but you don't +understand<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Precisely!" he interrupted. "I don't understand. I want to. To begin +with—what in this world induced you to throw in your lot even for an +hour with the man who called himself Fielding?"</p> + +<p>"I can answer no questions concerning myself," she said sadly.</p> + +<p>He smiled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "it isn't so serious as all that, is it? Sooner or +later your friends are sure to find you, and they will not be content +with such a statement as that. You were summoned one day to Paris by or +on behalf of your brother, who had unaccountably disappeared there. You +immediately appear to have followed suit. You had no friends in +Paris—neither, I think, had he. I believe I am correct in saying that +you had neither of you ever been there before. If your brother has +fallen into bad hands, and if those same people are trying to work upon +your fears by leading you into this sort of thing—well, I have friends +who are powerful enough to bring you safely out of any den of thieves in +the world. You are in an impossible situation, my dear young lady. +Nature never meant you for an adventuress. There is no necessity for you +to become one. Why do you look at me like that?"</p> + +<p>There was terror in her face. He had hoped to reassure her, to give her +courage. On the contrary every word he spoke only seemed to increase her +distress.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am afraid!" she murmured. "I wish I had taken my chance. I ought +not to have burdened you for a moment with my affairs. I have given you +the right to ask me questions which I cannot answer."</p> + +<p>He was perplexed.</p> + +<p>"If you have given promises to these people<span class="ohdash">—</span>—" he began.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is no question of promises," she interrupted. "I am here of +my own free will. I refuse to answer any questions. I pray only if you +would be generous that you ask me none, that you keep me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> until +to-morrow, and let me go, not only from this place, but out of your +life. Then indeed I will be grateful to you."</p> + +<p>He took her hand in his. She yielded it without any attempt at +resistance, but it lay in his palm a cold, dead thing.</p> + +<p>"I am only concerned for your good," he said gently. "It is your +happiness only that I am anxious for. You were not born or trained for a +life of lies and crime. I want to save you from it before it is too +late."</p> + +<p>"What I do," she said slowly, "I do of my own free will."</p> + +<p>"Not quite, I think," he answered, "but let that pass. Listen! If you +will not talk to me about these things, will you talk to my friend, +Jarvis Spencer? He is a gentleman, and a journalist by profession, but +he is also one of the cleverest amateur detectives in England."</p> + +<p>She held up her hands with a little gesture of horror. Her eyes were +alight with fear.</p> + +<p>"No!" she cried. "No! A thousand times, no! Don't let him come near me, +please. Oh, I wish I could make you understand," she continued +helplessly. "You yourself in Paris only a few weeks ago were in terrible +danger. A girl who only gave, or meant to give, you information about my +brother and me was murdered. You, too, would have been killed if you had +found anything out."</p> + +<p>He would have answered her lightly, but the memory of Mademoiselle +Flossie lying dead upon the bed in that gloomy little room suddenly rose +up before him, and the words died away upon his lips. He was silent for +a moment, and glanced again at his watch. It wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> only five minutes +to twelve. He came and leaned over her chair.</p> + +<p>"Phyllis," he said, "what am I to do about you? I cannot let you go out +of my life like this. No, you must listen to me for a moment. When +Pelham sent for me after you had disappeared he showed me your picture. +I am not exactly the sort of man of whom knight-errants are made. I have +never gone a mile out of my way to meet any woman in my life. My life +here has seemed of all things the best to me. I am a dull, unambitious +sort of fellow, you know, since I settled down here, and I expected to +go on for the rest of my days pretty much in the same way. And yet when +Pelham showed me your picture it was different. I made him give a copy +to me. I told him—liar that I was—that I could not carry the memory of +your face in my mind, when it was already engraven in my heart. And I +went off to Paris, Phyllis, like the veriest Don Quixote, and I came +back very sad indeed when I could not find you. Then you came to Runton +Place, and the trouble began. I did not care who you were, Phyllis +Poynton, Sybil Fielding, or any one else. I let the others dispute. You +were—yourself, and I love you, dear. Now do you understand why I cannot +let you go away like this?"</p> + +<p>He had both her hands in his now, but her face was turned away. Then +without any warning, there came a soft rapping at the door which led +into the library.</p> + +<p>Duncombe reached it in a couple of strides. He opened it cautiously, and +found Spencer standing there.</p> + +<p>"I thought it best to let you know," he said, "that a carriage has +stopped in the lane. If I can be of any assistance I shall be here—and +ready."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded and closed the door. The girl was sitting upright in her +chair, with the old look of fear in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Who was that?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Spencer," he answered. "He discovered your presence here, but he is +perfectly discreet. He knocked to tell me that a carriage has stopped in +the lane outside."</p> + +<p>She was white with fear, but he only laughed, and stooping down would +have taken her hands once more. But at that moment an unexpected sound +intervened. The deep silence of the house was broken by the ringing of +the front door bell.</p> + +<p>Duncombe started back. The girl half rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>"The front door!" he exclaimed. "The servants will have gone to bed. I +must answer it myself."</p> + +<p>She clung to him with a sudden abandon. She was white to the lips.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," she moaned. "Don't leave me alone."</p> + +<p>He glanced towards the window.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, it may be a trap!" he exclaimed. "Let them ring. I'll stay +here with you."</p> + +<p>They stood hand in hand listening. His head was turned towards the door, +but the gentle pressure of her fingers drew him round. Her face was +upturned to his. Something of the fear had gone. There was an eager, +almost desperate, light in her softened eyes, and a tinge of color in +her cheeks. He caught her into his arms, and their lips met. She +disengaged herself almost immediately.</p> + +<p>"I don't care," she said with a little laugh. "That is the first kiss I +have ever given to a man, and very likely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> it will be the last. You +won't be able to say that I have gone away without paying my bill. Now +go and open the front door, Sir George."</p> + +<p>He hesitated for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Say only the word, Phyllis, and no one in the world shall ever take you +away."</p> + +<p>She did not even answer him. He left her with a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Spencer," he said, "if you hear the slightest noise in that room go in +and shout for me."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded. The front door bell rang again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h3> + +<h4>THE EMPTY ROOM</h4> + + +<p>Duncombe unfastened the chain and bolts of the ponderous front door, and +looked out into the darkness. A carriage and pair of horses were drawn +up outside. A man and a woman, both dressed in long travelling-coats, +were standing upon the door-step.</p> + +<p>"This is Duncombe Hall, I believe?" the man said. "Is Sir George +Duncombe at home?"</p> + +<p>"I am Sir George Duncombe," he answered. "Will you come inside?"</p> + +<p>They crossed the threshold at once. The man was tall and dark, and his +voice and bearing were unmistakable. The woman was fair, <i>petite</i>, and +apparently very sleepy. She wore magnificent furs, and she had the air +of being in a very bad temper.</p> + +<p>"We really are heartily ashamed of ourselves for disturbing you at such +an hour, Sir George," the man said, "but you will pardon us when you +understand the position. I am the Marquis de St. Ethol, and this is my +wife. I have a letter to you from my friend the Duke of Chestow, with +whom we have been staying."</p> + +<p>Duncombe concealed his astonishment as well as he was able. He bowed to +the lady, and led them towards the library. Spencer, who had heard them +coming, had hastily concealed his revolver, and was lounging in an +easy-chair reading the evening paper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am afraid that my servants are all in bed," Duncombe said, "and I can +offer you only a bachelor's hospitality. This is my friend, Mr. +Spencer—the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. Wheel that easy-chair +up, Spencer, will you?"</p> + +<p>Spencer's brow had betrayed not the slightest sign of surprise, but +Duncombe fancied that the Marquis had glanced at him keenly. He was +holding a note in his hand, which he offered to Duncombe.</p> + +<p>"My errand is so unusual, and the hour so extraordinary," he said, "that +I thought it would be better for Chestow to write you a line or two. +Will you please read it?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe tore open the envelope.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="letter">"<span class="smcap">Chestow</span>, <i>Wednesday Evening</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Duncombe</span>,—My friend De St. Ethol tells me +that he is obliged, at great personal inconvenience, to +execute a commission for a friend which involves a somewhat +unceremonious call upon you to-night. He desires me, +therefore, to send you these few lines. The Marquis de St. +Ethol and his wife are amongst my oldest friends. It gives me +great pleasure to vouch for them both in every way.</p> + +<p class="letter">"Yours sincerely, </p> + +<p class="letter">"<span class="smcap">Chestow</span>."</p></div> + +<p>"The letter, I am afraid," the Marquis said, smiling, "does little to +satisfy your curiosity. Permit me to explain my errand in a few words."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Duncombe interrupted. "But won't you take something? I am +glad to see that Spencer is looking after your wife."</p> + +<p>The Marquise had raised her veil, and was leaning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> back in a chair, with +a sandwich poised in the fingers of one hand and a glass of Burgundy in +the other. She was looking a little less bored, and was chatting gayly +to Spencer, whose French was equal to her own.</p> + +<p>"I thank you very much," the Marquis said. "I will not take anything to +drink, but if you have cigarettes—ah, thanks!"</p> + +<p>He lit one, and sat on the arm of an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"The facts are these," he said. "I have a great friend in Paris who, +knowing that I was at Chestow, and returning to France to-morrow, has, I +must say, taken some advantage of my good nature. I am asked to call +here and escort home to her friends a young lady, who, I understand, is +for the moment a guest under your roof. My friend, I must say, +telegraphs in a most mysterious manner, but he is evidently very anxious +that we should accede to his request. Our appearance here at this time +of night I admit is most unjustifiable, but what were we to do? It is +absolutely necessary for my wife to catch the two-twenty from Charing +Cross to-morrow. I hope that my friend will some day appreciate my +devotion. To come round by your house I have had to borrow a carriage +from my friend Chestow. We shall have to drive to Norwich, and catch a +train from there to London in the small hours of the morning. I presume +the young lady is here?"</p> + +<p>"The young lady is here!" Duncombe answered. "May I inquire the name of +the friend to whom you are asked to take her?"</p> + +<p>The Marquis yawned slightly. He, too, seemed weary.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear Sir George," he said, "I trust that you will appreciate my +position in this matter. I do not even know the young lady's name. My +eccentric friend in his telegram, which occupied four forms, most +specially insisted that I should ask or answer no questions concerning +her."</p> + +<p>"You are not aware, then, of the circumstances which led to her coming +here?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"I am utterly ignorant of them," the Marquis answered. "I am constrained +to remain so."</p> + +<p>"You no doubt have some message for her," Duncombe said. "Her position +here is a little peculiar. She may desire some sort of information as to +her destination."</p> + +<p>The Marquis knocked the ash off his cigarette.</p> + +<p>"If you will produce the young lady," he said, "I think that you will +find her prepared to come with us without asking any questions."</p> + +<p>Duncombe threw open the door which led into the inner room. The girl +stepped forward as far as the threshold and looked out upon them.</p> + +<p>"The Marquis and the Marquise de St. Ethol," Duncombe said to her. "They +have brought me a letter from the Duke of Chestow, and they have come to +take you back to France."</p> + +<p>The girl looked fixedly for a moment at the Marquise. If any word or +sign passed between them it escaped Duncombe. Phyllis was content, +however, to ask no questions.</p> + +<p>"I am quite ready," she said calmly.</p> + +<p>The Marquise rose.</p> + +<p>"Your luggage can be sent on," she remarked.</p> + +<p>Duncombe approached Phyllis, and stood by her side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"These people," he said, "will not tell me where they are taking you to. +Are you content to go?"</p> + +<p>"I must go," she answered simply.</p> + +<p>"You wish me to give you<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"If you please," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>He turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I have something belonging to Miss—to my guest," he said, "in my own +room. If you will excuse me for a moment I will fetch it."</p> + +<p>He returned with the sealed envelope which she had given him, and which +he placed in her hands. He carried also a fur coat and an armful of +wraps.</p> + +<p>"You must take these," he declared. "It is cold travelling."</p> + +<p>"But how can I return them to you?" she protested. "No, not the coat, +please. I will take a rug if you like."</p> + +<p>"You will take both," he said firmly. "There need be no trouble about +returning them. I shall be in Paris myself shortly, and no doubt we +shall come across one another."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed something at him. What it was he could not rightly +tell. It seemed to him that he saw pleasure there, and fear, but more of +the latter. The Marquis intervened.</p> + +<p>"I trust," he said, "that in that case you will give us the pleasure of +seeing something of you. We live in the Avenue de St. Cloud."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," Duncombe said. "I shall not fail to come and see +you."</p> + +<p>Spencer threw open the door, and they passed out. Phyllis kept by +Duncombe's side. He felt her hand steal into his.</p> + +<p>"I want you to keep this envelope for me," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> whispered. "It contains +nothing which could bring you into trouble, or which concerns any one +else. It is just something which I should like to feel was in safe +keeping."</p> + +<p>He thrust it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"I will take care of it," he promised. "And—you won't forget me? We +shall meet again—sooner perhaps than you expect."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I hope to Heaven that we shall not! At least, not yet," she murmured +fervently.</p> + +<p>From the carriage window she put out her hand.</p> + +<p>"You have been very kind to me," she said. "Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>"An impossible word," he answered, with well-affected gayety. "A +pleasant journey to you."</p> + +<p>Then the carriage rolled away, and Spencer and he were left alone. +Duncombe secured the front door, and they walked slowly back to the +library.</p> + +<p>"You know Paris well," Duncombe said. "Have you ever heard of these +people?"</p> + +<p>Spencer smiled.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "De St. Ethol is one of the first nobles +in France. I have seen him at the races many times."</p> + +<p>"Not the sort of people to lend themselves to anything shady?"</p> + +<p>"The last in the world," Spencer answered. "She was the Comtesse de +Laugnan, and between them they are connected with half a dozen Royal +houses. This business is getting exceedingly interesting, Duncombe!"</p> + +<p>But Duncombe was thinking of the empty room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a>BOOK II</h2> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_Ia" id="CHAPTER_Ia"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h4>GUY POYNTON AGAIN</h4> + + +<p>"I Suppose," the boy said thoughtfully, "I must seem to you beastly +ungrateful. You've been a perfect brick to me ever since that night. But +I can't help being a bit homesick. You see, it was really the first time +I'd ever been away from home for long, and though my little place isn't +a patch on this, of course, still, I was born there, and I'm jolly fond +of it."</p> + +<p>His companion nodded, and his dark eyes rested for a moment upon the +other's face. Guy Poynton was idly watching the reapers at work in the +golden valley below, and he did not catch his friend's expression.</p> + +<p>"You are very young, <i>mon cher ami</i>," he said. "As one grows older one +demands change. Change always of scene and occupation. Now I, too, am +most hideously bored here, although it is my home. For me to live is +only possible in Paris—Paris, the beautiful."</p> + +<p>Guy looked away from the fields. He resented a little his friend's air +of superiority.</p> + +<p>"There's only a year's difference in our ages!" he remarked.</p> + +<p>Henri de Bergillac smiled—this time more expressively than ever, and +held out his hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I speak of experience, not years," he said. "You have lived for twenty +years in a very delightful spot no doubt, but away from everything which +makes life endurable, possible even, for the child of the cities. I have +lived for twenty-one years mostly in Paris. Ah, the difference!"</p> + +<p>Guy shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said briefly, "tastes differ. I've seen quite all I want to +of Paris for the rest of my life. Give me a fine June morning in the +country, and a tramp round the farm, or an early morning start in +September walking down the partridges, or a gray day in November with a +good gee underneath, plenty of grass ahead, and hounds talking. Good +God, I wish I were back in England."</p> + +<p>Henri smiled and caressed his upper lip, where symptoms of a moustache +were beginning to appear.</p> + +<p>"My dear Guy," he said, "you speak crudely because you do not +understand. You know of Paris only its grosser side. How can one learn +more when he cannot even speak its language? You know the Paris of the +tourist. The real magic of my beautiful city has never entered into your +heart. Your little dabble in its vices and frivolities must not count to +you as anything final. The joy of Paris to one who understands is the +exquisite refinement, the unsurpassed culture, of its abysmal +wickedness."</p> + +<p>"The devil!" Guy exclaimed. "Have you found out all that for yourself?"</p> + +<p>Henri was slightly annoyed. He was always annoyed when he was not taken +seriously.</p> + +<p>"I have had the advantage," he said, "of many friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>ships with men +whose names you would scarcely know, but who directed the intellectual +tendencies of the younger generation of Parisians. People call us +decadents—I suppose, because we prefer intellectual progression to +physical activity. I am afraid, dear friend, that you would never be one +of us."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure of it," Guy answered.</p> + +<p>"You will not even drink absinthe," Henri continued, helping himself +from a little carafe which stood between them, "absolutely the most +artistic of all drinks. You prefer a thing you call a pipe to my +choicest cigarettes, and you have upon your cheeks a color of which a +ploughboy should be ashamed."</p> + +<p>Guy laughed good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't help being sunburnt!" he declared. Henri sighed +delicately.</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is not only that," he said. "I wish so much that I could make +you understand. You positively cultivate good health, take cold baths +and walks and exercises to preserve it."</p> + +<p>"Why the dickens shouldn't I?"</p> + +<p>Henri half closed his eyes. He was a dutiful nephew, but he felt that +another month with this clodhopper of an English boy would mean the +snapping of his finely strung nerves.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he began gently, "we in Paris of the set to whom I belong +do not consider good health to be a state which makes for intellectual +progression. Good health means the triumph of the physical side of man +over the nervous. The healthy animal sleeps and eats too much. He does +not know the stimulus of pain. His normal condition is unaspiring—not +to say bovine. The first essential, therefore, of life,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> according to +our tenets, is to get rid of superfluous health."</p> + +<p>Guy did not trust himself to speak this time. He only stared at his +companion, who seemed pleased to have evoked his interest.</p> + +<p>"Directly the body is weakened," Henri continued, "the brain begins to +act. With the indisposition for physical effort comes activity of the +imagination. Cigarettes, drugs, our friend here," he continued, patting +the carafe, "late nights, <i>la belle passion</i>—all these—all these<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>He broke off in the middle of his sentence. Simultaneously he abandoned +his carefully chosen attitude of studied languor. He was leaning forward +in his chair watching a carriage which had just come into sight along +the straight wide road which led from the outside world to the chateau.</p> + +<p>"The devil!" he exclaimed. "My respected uncle! Jacques!"</p> + +<p>A man-servant stepped out upon the terrace.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur!"</p> + +<p>"Remove the absinthe, Jacques. Monsieur le Duc arrives!"</p> + +<p>Guy, who also had been watching the carriage, gave utterance to a little +exclamation. He pointed to two figures on horseback who rode behind the +carriage.</p> + +<p>"The gendarmes!" he exclaimed. "They have come for me at last!"</p> + +<p>His face was no longer ruddy. The pallor of fear had crept to his +cheeks. A note of despair rang in his voice.</p> + +<p>His companion only laughed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gendarmes, perhaps," he answered, "but not for you, my young friend. +Have I not told you that you are in sanctuary here? A guest of the Duc +de Bergillac evades all suspicion. Ah, I understand well those +gendarmes. Let their presence cause you no anxiety, <i>cher monsieur</i>. +They are a guard of honor for my reverend uncle and the personage who +rides with him."</p> + +<p>Guy resumed his chair, and sat with his head buried in his hands in an +attitude of depression. His companion leaned over the stone balustrade +of the terrace and waved his hand to the occupants of the carriage +below. They pulled up at the bottom of the steps and commenced slowly to +ascend. In obedience to an imperious gesture from his uncle, Henri +advanced to meet them. He greeted his uncle with graceful affection. +Before the other man, although his appearance was homely and his dress +almost untidy, he bowed very low indeed, and accepted his proffered hand +as a mark of favor.</p> + +<p>The Duc de Bergillac was tall, sallow, with black moustache and +imperial. He possessed all the personal essentials of the aristocrat, +and he had the air of one accustomed to command.</p> + +<p>"Henri," he said, "your young friend is with you?"</p> + +<p>"But certainly," his nephew answered with a sigh. "Am I not always +obedient? He has scarcely been out of my sight since we arrived."</p> + +<p>"Very good! You saw us arrive just now. Did you mention the name of +Monsieur Grisson?" the Duke asked.</p> + +<p>"But certainly not!" Henri answered.</p> + +<p>The Duke nodded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have discretion," he said. "Monsieur Grisson is here incognito. He +wishes to hear your young friend's story from his own lips."</p> + +<p>The Duke's companion nodded silently. He had the air of a silent man. He +was short, inclined to be stout, and his dress and bearing were almost +bourgeois. His features were large and not particularly intelligent, his +cheeks were puffy, and his gray beard ill-humored. He had the double +neck of the Frenchman of the lower class who has not denied himself the +joys of the cuisine, and his appearance would have been hopelessly +commonplace but for the deep-set brilliant black eyes which lit up his +whole face and gave it an aspect of power.</p> + +<p>"After <i>déjeuner</i>, you understand," he said. "It is well that your young +friend should not understand that I came here for no other reason. I +will see first your manuscripts, Monsieur le Duc."</p> + +<p>The Duke waved his hand courteously to Guy as the two men passed along +on their way to the library. Henri resumed his seat with a little shrug +of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"My respected uncle will bring such strange people here to see his +manuscripts and collection of missals," he remarked. "For myself it is a +hobby which wearies me. And you, <i>mon cher</i> Guy?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about them," he answered. "But the gendarmes, Henri? Why +did they ride with your uncle's carriage?"</p> + +<p>Henri smiled reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"The old gentleman," he said, "has something to do with the Government, +and they were in attendance upon him. You can realize, my friend," he +added, "that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> you are indeed in a republican country. Such people must +have the <i>entrée</i> to our houses, even to our table. I presume that you +will have the pleasure of taking luncheon with him even."</p> + +<p>A man-servant came out upon the terrace.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Duc desires me to say that luncheon is served," he +announced.</p> + +<p>Henri passed his arm through his friend's.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "let us go and see if we can amuse ourselves with my +uncle's venerable friend. I do not suppose that he speaks English, but I +will interpret for you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IIa" id="CHAPTER_IIa"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h4>AN OLD STORY</h4> + + +<p>Guy moved uneasily upon his chair. The color mounted almost to his +forehead. It was a humiliation this, upon which he had not counted. +Monsieur Grisson was sitting within a few feet of him. A serviette was +tucked carefully underneath his collar, and his face was a little +flushed with the exercise of eating. His eyes, however, were undimmed, +and his manners, although a little brusque, had certainly not merited +the epithet of bourgeois.</p> + +<p>"It isn't much of a story," Guy began, making a desperate effort. "It +was my first visit to Paris, and I lost my head a bit. I drank too much +wine and quarrelled with a fellow who certainly insulted me. They all +told me that I must fight him, so<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Stop, Monsieur Poynton!"</p> + +<p>Guy raised his head in surprise. The exclamation had come from the Duc +de Bergillac. Monsieur Grisson was looking towards him as though for an +explanation.</p> + +<p>"My dear young friend," the Duke remarked with a smile, "it is my +stupidity which is to blame. I had forgotten the little matter to which +you are alluding, and—between ourselves—it is one which is very much +better not related to Monsieur Grisson. I was alluding to your other +adventure—up in the Pozen forest."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>Guy for a moment was too astonished for words. Then he recovered himself +with a little laugh and raised his head. There was nothing terrible in +the other affair.</p> + +<p>"I will tell Monsieur Grisson about that with pleasure," he said, "if it +is likely to interest him. I was in the North of Germany on a +walking-tour, and I had rather a stupid fancy to go as far as the +Russian frontier, and then return by Vienna to Paris. I was quite alone, +and had no one's plans but my own to consult, so I started off from +Steritz, I think the place was called. Well, we were within about forty +miles of a place called Renzan when our train was stopped and shunted. +We were told that some specials were to go by. I should think we must +have waited there for an hour or more. Anyhow I got sick of it, and +passed through the cars on to the rear platform, and down on to the +line. I spoke to the guard, and I understood him to say that we should +not be starting for at least half an hour. I strolled along the line a +little way and stopped to light a pipe. Suddenly I heard a whistle, and +when I turned round the rear light of the train was moving away. I +shouted and ran as hard as I could, but it was no use. In less than two +minutes the train was out of my sight, and I was left alone."</p> + +<p>The Duke pushed a small atlas across the table.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, "if you could put your finger on about the spot +where you were? Here, you see, is the railway line."</p> + +<p>Guy studied it for a few moments carefully, and looked at the scale. +Then he pointed to a certain spot.</p> + +<p>"As near as I could say," he declared, "about there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Duke and Monsieur Grisson exchanged quick glances. Guy was beginning +to feel a little mystified.</p> + +<p>"Proceed, if you please," the Duke said courteously. "I am sure that +Monsieur Grisson finds your story most interesting. Permit me."</p> + +<p>Guy sipped the <i>fin champagne</i> from the glass which the Duke had +carefully filled, and took a cigarette from the box at his elbow.</p> + +<p>"I found myself," he continued, "in the middle of a dense pine forest, +with just sufficient clearing for two lines of rails and no more. There +seemed to be nothing for me to do but to walk ahead in the direction +which the train had taken. I lit a pipe and started out all right, but I +very soon got tired. The sleepers were a long way apart, and the track +between frightfully rough. I walked for hours without seeing the +slightest sign of a station or a break in the woods, and finally I sat +down dead beat. My feet were all blisters, and I felt that I couldn't +walk another yard. Fortunately it was a warm night, and I made up my +mind to crawl under the bracken just inside the wood and go to sleep. I +found a comfortable place, and I'd just gone off when a noise close at +hand woke me. I sat up and looked around.</p> + +<p>"Within a few feet of me an engine and a single carriage had pulled up. +At intervals along the line as far as I could see soldiers were +stationed like sentries. I could see that they were looking sharply up +and down, and even a little way into the wood. From the train three or +four men in long cloaks had already descended. They were standing in the +track talking together."</p> + +<p>For the first time Monsieur Grisson interrupted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> He took his cigar from +his mouth and leaned over towards the young Englishman.</p> + +<p>"You were lost yourself. You did not accost them? Ask them the way +anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"It seems odd, I suppose, that I didn't," Guy answered, "but do you know +there was an air of secrecy about the whole thing which rather +frightened me. And those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for +somebody to shoot. Anyhow, while I was hesitating what to do, there was +a whistle and another train came from the opposite direction. Then, of +course, I waited to see what was going to happen."</p> + +<p>"And you saw?" the Duke began.</p> + +<p>"I saw another single carriage arrive, more men in long cloaks and more +soldiers. There was a brief but hearty greeting between two men, who +seemed to be the principals in this little pantomime. Then they both got +into the train which had arrived first, and I could see them sitting at +a table talking, and a third man, who seemed to be a sort of secretary, +was writing all the time. In about half an hour they both stepped back +on to the line, and every one commenced shaking hands and saying +good-bye. Then the whole thing seemed to melt away. The trains went on, +the soldiers climbed into a truck attached to one of them, and +everything was just as quiet as before."</p> + +<p>"And afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"I waited until it was clear daylight, and then I resumed my walk along +the line. I found the next station about five miles off, and I was +thankful to see that the guard of the train which had left me behind had +had the sense to put my luggage out there. I went to the hotel and had +some breakfast, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> afterwards I chucked my idea of going so far as the +frontier, and left for Vienna. A week later I was in Paris."</p> + +<p>The Duke nodded.</p> + +<p>"I have asked you this question before," he said "but Monsieur Grisson +is anxious to hear it from your own lips. To how many people did you +tell this little adventure of yours before you reached Paris?"</p> + +<p>"To not a soul!" Guy answered. "I was very dull in Vienna. I found no +one who could speak English and my few words of German did me no good at +all. I came on to Paris within a week."</p> + +<p>The Duke nodded.</p> + +<p>"And in Paris for the first time!" he remarked. "You mentioned the +affair?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! I took up an illustrated paper at a café on the night of my +arrival whilst waiting for supper, and saw pictures of two men there who +reminded me very much of the two whom I had seen on the railway near +Pozen. I think I made some remark out loud which attracted the attention +of a woman who was sitting at the next table, and later on I told her +the whole story."</p> + +<p>"And since then?"</p> + +<p>"Since then I have told it to no one."</p> + +<p>"Was there any one in the café you have spoken of who seemed to take any +particular interest in you?"</p> + +<p>Guy considered for a moment.</p> + +<p>"There was a young lady from Vienna," he said, "who seemed to want to +talk to me."</p> + +<p>The two men exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>"Madame has justified herself," the Duke murmured.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She was trying to listen to what I was saying to the English +girl—Mademoiselle Flossie, she called herself, and when she went away +with her friends she threw me a note with two words on it—'<i>prenez +garde</i>!' I know it struck me as being rather queer, because<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>He hesitated. The Duke nodded.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I may as well tell you everything," Guy continued, "even if it +does sound rather like rot. All the time I was in Vienna and on the +journey to Paris I fancied that I was being followed. I kept on seeing +the same people, and a man who got in at Strasburg—I had seen him +before at the hotel in Vienna—tried all he could to pal up to me. I +hate Germans though, and I didn't like the look of the fellow, so I +wouldn't have anything to say to him, though I feel sure he tipped the +conductor to put him in my compartment. I gave him the slip at the +railway station at Paris, but I'm almost sure I saw him that night at +the Café Montmartre."</p> + +<p>"Your story," Monsieur Grisson said quietly, "becomes more and more +interesting. Monsieur le Duc here has hinted at some slight indiscretion +of yours on the night of your arrival in Paris. I have some influence +with the Government here, and I think I can promise you some very +substantial help in return for the information you have given us. But I +want you to turn your thoughts back to the night you spent by the +railroad. Can you remember anything further about it, however trifling, +which you have not told us?"</p> + +<p>Guy leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By Jove," he declared, "there is something which I forgot altogether. +Just before that little party in the railway saloon broke up the chap in +the car who had been writing left his seat, and a loose page of paper +fluttered through the window."</p> + +<p>The two men leaned across the table almost simultaneously.</p> + +<p>"What became of it?" the Duke asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"I picked it up and put it in my pocket," Guy answered.</p> + +<p>"Did you read it?" the Duke asked.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't! It was in German!"</p> + +<p>"Where is it now?" Monsieur Grisson demanded.</p> + +<p>Guy reflected. The faces of the two men amazed him. It was as though +great things depended upon his answer.</p> + +<p>"It is with my pocketbook and my letter of credit. I remember that I +kept it as a curiosity."</p> + +<p>"A curiosity!" the Duke exclaimed. "You have it here?"</p> + +<p>Guy shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is in my portmanteau!" he answered.</p> + +<p>The faces of the two men betrayed their disappointment. They conversed +for a few moments in rapid French. Then the Duke turned to Guy.</p> + +<p>"You do not object to our sending a trusted person to look through your +portmanteau!" he asked. "Monsieur Grisson and I are very curious about +that sheet of paper."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Guy answered. "But may I not have my luggage here?"</p> + +<p>The Duke shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," he said. "It would not be wise. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> must give Monsieur +Grisson time to arrange your little affair."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to seem a nuisance," Guy continued, "but about my sister?"</p> + +<p>"She has been assured of your safety," the Duke declared. "For the rest +we will talk later in the day. Monsieur Grisson and I are going to the +telephone. You will find Henri on the terrace."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IIIa" id="CHAPTER_IIIa"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h4>A BODY FROM THE SEINE</h4> + + +<p>"At the sport, my young friend," Henri murmured, from the depths of his +basket chair, "I yield you without question supremacy. Your rude games, +trials mostly of brute strength, do not interest me. Your horsemanship I +must confess that I envy, and I fear that you are a better shot. But two +things remain to me."</p> + +<p>"Only two?" Guy murmured. "What unexampled modesty!"</p> + +<p>"I can drive a racing automobile at eighty miles an hour, and with the +foils I can play with you."</p> + +<p>"I give you the first," Guy answered, "but I'm beginning to fancy myself +a bit with the sticks. Let's have a bout!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Guy," Henri exclaimed, "forgive me, but what a crude +suggestion! The first breeze of the day is just coming up from the lake. +Close your eyes as I do. Can't you catch the perfume of the roses and +the late lilac? Exquisite. In half an hour you will see a new green in +the woods there as the sun drops. This is silent joy. You would exchange +it for vulgar movement."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything vulgar about fencing," Guy replied. "It's all +right here, of course, but I'm getting stiff, and I haven't the appetite +of a kitten. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> should like a good hour's bout, a swim afterwards in the +baths, and a rub down. Come on, Henri! It'll make us as fit as +possible."</p> + +<p>Henri shivered a little.</p> + +<p>"My young friend," he murmured, "you move me to despair. How can an +alliance between nations with such contrary ideals be possible? You +would desert a beautiful scene like this to gain by vulgar exercise an +appetite that you may eat. Can't you realize the crudeness of it? Yet I +must remember that you are my guest," he added, striking the bell by his +side. "Antoine shall prepare my linen clothes, and I will give you a +lesson. Antoine," he added, half turning to the man-servant who stood by +his elbow, "my black linen fencing-clothes and shoes in the +dressing-room, and have the floor in the fencing-gallery sprinkled with +sand."</p> + +<p>The man bowed, and Henri slowly rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Don't bother about it, you know, if you mind very much," Guy said. +"Would you rather have a game of billiards, or a swim in the lake?"</p> + +<p>Henri thrust his arm through his friend's.</p> + +<p>"By no means," he answered. "If we are to do anything at all we will do +the thing in which I excel. It feeds my vanity, which is good for me, +for by disposition I am over-modest."</p> + +<p>But they were not destined to fence that night, for on their way across +the hall the Duke's own servant intercepted them.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Duc," he announced, "desires to speak with Monsieur in the +library."</p> + +<p>Henri let go his friend's arm.</p> + +<p>"I return to the terrace, <i>mon ami</i>," he said. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> can fetch me when +my respected uncle has finished with you."</p> + +<p>Monsieur le Duc and Monsieur Grisson were still together. Immediately +the door was closed the former turned to Guy.</p> + +<p>"Your luggage has been thoroughly searched," he announced, "by a trusty +agent. The letter of credit is still there, but the paper of which you +spoke is missing."</p> + +<p>Guy looked a little incredulous.</p> + +<p>"I know it was there the evening I left the hotel," he answered. "It was +fastened to my letter of credit by an elastic band. The man you sent +must have missed it."</p> + +<p>The Duke shook his head.</p> + +<p>"That," he said, "is impossible. The paper has been abstracted."</p> + +<p>"But who could have known about it?" Guy protested.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Poynton," the Duke said, "we think it well—Monsieur Grisson +and I—to take you a little further into our confidence. Has it occurred +to you, I wonder, to appreciate the significance of what you saw on the +railway in the forest of Pozen?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid—not altogether," Guy answered.</p> + +<p>"We assumed as much," the Duke said. "What you did see was this. You saw +a meeting between the German Emperor and the Czar of Russia. It was +marvellously well arranged, and except those interested you were +probably the only witness. According to the newspapers they were never +less than four hundred miles apart, but on the day in question the +Emperor was reported to be confined to his room by a slight chill,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> and +the Czar to be resting after a fatiguing journey. You understand that +this meeting was meant to be kept a profound secret?"</p> + +<p>Guy nodded.</p> + +<p>"But why?" he asked. "Was there any special reason why they should not +meet?"</p> + +<p>"My young friend," the Duke answered gravely, "this meeting of which you +were the only witness might, but for your chance presence there, have +altered the destiny of Europe. Try how you will you cannot appreciate +its far-reaching possibilities. I will endeavor to give you the bare +outlines of the affair. Even you, I suppose, have observed or heard of +the growing friendship between my country and yours, which has +culminated in what is called the <i>entente cordiale</i>."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know as much as that," Guy admitted.</p> + +<p>"This movement," the Duke said, "has been looked upon with growing +distaste and disfavor in Russia. Russia is the traditional and +inevitable enemy of your country. Russia had, I may go so far as to say, +made up her mind for war with England very soon after her first reverses +at the hands of Japan. I am telling you now what is a matter of common +knowledge amongst diplomatists when I tell you that it was the attitude +of my country—of France—which alone has stayed her hand."</p> + +<p>"This is very interesting," Guy said, "even to me, who have never taken +any interest in politics, but<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Wait! Russia, as I say, found us indisposed to back her in any quarrel +with England. She turned then, of course, to Germany. We became aware, +through our secret service, that something was on foot between the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> two +countries. With our utmost vigilance we were unable to obtain any +particulars. It is you, Monsieur Poynton, who have brought us the first +information of a definite character."</p> + +<p>Guy looked his amazement, but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"To you," the Duke continued, "a secret meeting between these two +monarchs may not seem at all an astonishing thing. To us it is of the +gravest political importance. Some sort of an understanding was arrived +at between them. What was it? That sheet of paper which was once in your +possession might very possibly contain the clue. Now you can appreciate +its importance to us."</p> + +<p>"What an ass I was not to take more care of it!" Guy muttered.</p> + +<p>"There are other things to be considered," the Duke continued. "For the +last month every dockyard in Germany has been working night and day, and +we have authentic information as to a huge mobilization scheme which is +already on foot. We might have wondered against whom these preparations +were intended but for you. As it is, the English Government has been +fully apprised of everything. Your magnificent fleet, under the pretext +of seeing the Baltic Squadron safely on its way, has been gradually +concentrated. From despatches to the German Ambassador which we have +managed to intercept in England, we know that it is intended to raise a +<i>casus belli</i> during the presence of the squadron in British waters. +Quite unexpectedly, as it was hoped, Germany was to range herself on +Russia's side and strike against England. We, Russia's nominal ally, +have had no intimation of this whatever. We are apparently left to +ourselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>—ignored. Our friendship with your country has destroyed +Russia's friendship for us. She relies no doubt on our neutrality, and +she makes terms, doubtless absurdly favorable ones, with our ancient +enemy. In the eyes of the world France is to be made to appear +ridiculous. The German Empire is to be ruled from London, and the +Emperor Wilhelm's known ambition is to be realized."</p> + +<p>"It sounds," Guy admitted, "like a nightmare. I know you foreigners all +think we English are a lot too cock-sure, but we have our own ideas, you +know, about any attempt at invasion."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," the Duke said, "that when it comes to throwing a million +men at different points of your coasts protected by a superb navy you +might find yourselves unpleasantly surprised. But let that pass. Have I +said enough to make you understand the importance of what you saw in the +forest of Pozen? Good! Now I want you to understand this. In the +interests of your country and mine it is most important that the fact of +our knowledge of this meeting should be kept a profound secret."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Guy said, "I understand that."</p> + +<p>"Your presence there," the Duke continued, "created a certain amount of +suspicion. You were watched to Paris by German spies, and if they had +had the least idea of how much you had seen your life would not have +been worth five minutes' purchase. As it is they are uneasy over your +disappearance. There are at least a dozen men and women in Paris and +England to-day who are searching for you! You are moderately safe here, +but not altogether. I want to put them finally off the scent. I might, +of course, put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> you into such confinement that detection would be +impossible. I do not want to do that. You have rendered your own country +and mine an immense service. I prefer to treat you as a gentleman and a +man of honor, and to take you, as I hope you will see that I have done, +into our entire confidence."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Duc," Guy answered, "I can assure you that I appreciate all +that you have said. I am willing to do exactly as you say."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning's papers," the Duke said slowly, "will contain an +account of the finding of your body in the Seine."</p> + +<p>"My what!" Guy exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Your body! We are going to stab and drown you. Perhaps I should say we +are going to discover you stabbed and drowned."</p> + +<p>Guy half rose from his seat.</p> + +<p>"I say<span class="ohdash">—</span>—" he began.</p> + +<p>"I need not explain, of course," the Duke continued, "that you will +suffer by proxy. The whole affair has been carefully arranged by the +commissioners of police.</p> + +<p>"An account of your doings since you arrived in Paris will be given, +which I fear may not flatter you, but you must remember that it is +necessary to put our German friends completely off the scent, and in a +month's time or so you will reappear, and everything will be +contradicted."</p> + +<p>"But my sister?" Guy exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Concerning your sister," the Duke continued, "we have further +explanations, perhaps I should say apologies, to offer you at some +future time. For the present—this only. She is now in Paris. She is to +some extent in our confidence, and you shall see her within the next few +days."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do with me really?" Guy asked.</p> + +<p>"You will remain here. Half the servants of the household have been +dismissed, and every one who is not absolutely trustworthy has been got +rid of. We are in close consultation with your English Cabinet, and the +moment the time arrives for us to disclose our knowledge of these +secrets you will be free to go where you please."</p> + +<p>"Absolutely free?" Guy asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" the Duke answered. "The other little affair is cancelled by +your present services. In fact, as regards that, you need not give +yourself another moment's anxiety."</p> + +<p>A small telephone which stood upon the table rang sharply. The Duke +exchanged a few sentences and replaced the receiver. He turned to Guy.</p> + +<p>"It is an affair of the tides," he said. "Your body was washed up this +afternoon, six hours before time. It will be in the evening papers. Ah!"</p> + +<p>The telephone rang again. This time it was Monsieur Grisson who was +required. He listened for a moment or two with inscrutable countenance. +Then he glanced at the clock.</p> + +<p>"The Russian Ambassador," he said, replacing the receiver, "desires an +immediate interview with me on a matter of the utmost importance—and +the Russian Fleet has left the Baltic!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IVa" id="CHAPTER_IVa"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h4>THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE</h4> + + +<p>Duncombe was passed from the concierge to a footman, and from a footman +to a quietly dressed groom of the chambers, who brought him at last to +Madame la Marquise. She gave him the tips of her fingers and a somewhat +inquiring gaze.</p> + +<p>"Sir George Duncombe, is it not?" she remarked. "I am not receiving this +afternoon, but your message was so urgent. Forgive me, but it was not by +any chance my husband whom you wished to see?"</p> + +<p>"Your husband would have done as well, Madame," Duncombe answered +bluntly, "but I learned that he was not at home. My visit is really to +Miss Poynton. I should be exceedingly obliged if you would allow me the +privilege of a few minutes' conversation with her."</p> + +<p>The forehead of the Marquise was wrinkled with surprise. She stood +amidst all the wonders of her magnificent drawing-room like a dainty +Dresden doll—petite, cold, dressed to perfection. Her manner and her +tone were alike frigid.</p> + +<p>"But, Monsieur," she said, "that is wholly impossible. Mademoiselle is +too thoroughly upset by the terrible news in the paper this morning. It +is unheard of. Monsieur may call again if he is a friend of Mademoiselle +Poynton's—say, in a fortnight."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Marquise," he said, "it is necessary that I see Mademoiselle at once. I +am the bearer of good news."</p> + +<p>The Marquise looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>"Of good news, Monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!"</p> + +<p>"But how can that be?"</p> + +<p>"If Madame will give me the opportunity," he said, "I should only be too +glad to explain—to Mademoiselle Poynton."</p> + +<p>"If, indeed, it should be good news," the Marquise said slowly, "it were +better broken gradually to Mademoiselle. I will take her a message."</p> + +<p>"Permit me to see her, Marquise," he begged. "My errand is indeed +important."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"It is not," she said, "according to the <i>convenances</i>. Mademoiselle is +under my protection. I have not the honor of knowing you, Monsieur."</p> + +<p>Duncombe raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"But you remember calling at my house in Norfolk, and bringing Miss +Poynton away," he said.</p> + +<p>She stared at him calmly.</p> + +<p>"The matter," she said, "has escaped my memory. I do not love your +country, Monsieur, and my rare visits there do not linger in my mind."</p> + +<p>"Your husband," he reminded her, "asked me to visit you here."</p> + +<p>"My husband's friends," she replied, "are not mine."</p> + +<p>The calm insolence of her manner towards him took him aback. He had +scarcely expected such a reception.</p> + +<p>"I can only apologize, Madame," he said with a bow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> "for intruding. I +will await your husband's return in the hall."</p> + +<p>He bowed low, and turned to leave the room. He had almost reached the +door before she stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Wait!"</p> + +<p>He turned round. Her voice was different.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit down here," she said, pointing to a sofa by her side.</p> + +<p>He obeyed her, thoroughly amazed. She leaned back amongst the cushions +and looked at him thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"How is it that you—an Englishman—speak French so well?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I lived in Paris for some years," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! And yet you returned to—Norfolk, is it?"</p> + +<p>He bowed.</p> + +<p>"It is true, Madame!" he admitted.</p> + +<p>"How droll!" she murmured. "Miss Poynton—she is an old friend of +yours?"</p> + +<p>"I am very anxious to see her, Madame!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated. After all, his was no secret mission.</p> + +<p>"I have reason to believe," he said, "that a mistake has been made in +the identity of the body found in the Seine and supposed to be her +brother's."</p> + +<p>She gave a little start. It seemed to him that from that moment she +regarded him with more interest.</p> + +<p>"But that, Monsieur," she said, "is not possible."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer him for a moment. Instead she rang a bell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>A servant appeared almost immediately.</p> + +<p>"Request Monsieur le Marquis to step this way immediately he returns," +she ordered.</p> + +<p>The man bowed and withdrew. The Marquise turned again to Duncombe.</p> + +<p>"It is quite impossible!" she repeated. "Do you know who it was that +identified—the young man?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing," he said. "I saw the notice in the paper, and I have +been to the Morgue with a friend."</p> + +<p>"Were you allowed to see it?"</p> + +<p>"No! For some reason or other we were not. But we managed to bribe one +of the attendants, and we got the police description."</p> + +<p>"This," Madame said, "is interesting. Well?"</p> + +<p>"There was one point in particular in the description," Duncombe said, +"and a very important one, which proved to us both that the dead man was +not Guy Poynton."</p> + +<p>"It is no secret, I presume?" she said. "Tell me what it was."</p> + +<p>Duncombe hesitated. He saw no reason for concealing the facts.</p> + +<p>"The height of the body," he said, "was given as five feet nine. Guy +Poynton was over six feet."</p> + +<p>The Marquise nodded her head slowly.</p> + +<p>"And now," she said, "shall I tell you who it is who identified the body +at the Morgue—apart from the papers which were found in his pocket, and +which certainly belonged to Mr. Poynton?"</p> + +<p>"I should be interested to know," he admitted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was Miss Poynton herself. It is that which has upset her so. She +recognized him at once."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of this, Madame?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"I myself," the Marquise answered, "accompanied her there. It was +terrible."</p> + +<p>Duncombe looked very grave.</p> + +<p>"I am indeed sorry to hear this," he said. "There can be no possibility +of any mistake, then?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever!" the Marquise declared.</p> + +<p>"You will permit me to see her?" Duncombe begged. "If I am not a very +old friend—I am at least an intimate one."</p> + +<p>The Marquise shook her head.</p> + +<p>"She is not in a fit state to see any one," she declared. "The visit to +the Morgue has upset her almost as much as the affair itself. You must +have patience, Monsieur. In a fortnight or three weeks at the earliest +she may be disposed to see friends. Certainly not at present."</p> + +<p>"I may send her a message?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>The Marquise nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You may write it, if you like."</p> + +<p>"And I may wait for an answer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Duncombe scribbled a few lines on the back of a visiting-card. The +Marquise took it from him and rose.</p> + +<p>"I will return," she said. "You shall be entirely satisfied."</p> + +<p>She left him alone for nearly ten minutes. She had scarcely left the +room when another visitor entered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> The Vicomte de Bergillac, in a dark +brown suit and an apple-green tie, bowed to Duncombe, and carefully +selected the most comfortable chair in his vicinity.</p> + +<p>"So you took my advice, Monsieur," he remarked, helping himself to a +cushion from another chair, and placing it behind his head.</p> + +<p>"I admit it," Duncombe answered. "On the whole I believe that it was +very good advice."</p> + +<p>"Would you," the Vicomte murmured, "like another dose?"</p> + +<p>"I trust," Duncombe said, "that there is no necessity."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte reflected.</p> + +<p>"Why are you here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"To see Miss Poynton."</p> + +<p>"And again why?"</p> + +<p>Duncombe smiled. The boy's manner was so devoid of impertinence that he +found it impossible to resent his questions.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I came hoping to bring Miss Poynton some good news. I +had information which led me seriously to doubt whether the body which +has been found in the Seine is really her brother's."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte sat up as though he had been shot.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said slowly, "I take some interest in you, but, upon my +word, I begin to believe that you will end your days in the Morgue +yourself. As you value your life, don't tell any one else what you have +told me. I trust that I am the first."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have told the Marquise," Duncombe answered, "and she has gone to find +out whether Miss Poynton will see me."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte's patent boot tapped the floor slowly.</p> + +<p>"You have told the Marquise," he repeated thoughtfully. "Stop! I must +think!"</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. Then the Vicomte looked up.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said. "Now listen! Have you any confidence in me?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," Duncombe answered. "The advice you gave me before was, I +know, good. It was confirmed a few hours following, and, as you know, I +followed it."</p> + +<p>"Then listen," the Vicomte said. "<i>L'affaire Poynton</i> is in excellent +hands. The young lady will come to no harm. You are here, I know, +because you are her friend. You can help her if you will."</p> + +<p>"How?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"By leaving Paris to-day."</p> + +<p>"Your advice," Duncombe said grimly, "seems to lack variety."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The other affair," he said; "is still open. If I stepped to the +telephone here you would be arrested within the hour."</p> + +<p>"Can't you leave the riddles out and talk so that an ordinary man can +understand you for a few minutes?" Duncombe begged.</p> + +<p>"It is exactly what remains impossible," the Vicomte answered smoothly. +"But you know the old saying, you have doubtless something similar in +your own country, 'It is from our friends we suffer most.' Your +pres<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>ence here, your—forgive me—somewhat clumsy attempts to solve this +<i>affaire Poynton</i>, are likely to be a cause of embarrassment to the +young lady herself and to others. Apart from that, it will certainly +cost you your life."</p> + +<p>"Without some shadow of an explanation," Duncombe said calmly, "I remain +where I am in case I can be of assistance to Miss Poynton."</p> + +<p>The young man shrugged his shoulders, and sauntering to a mirror +rearranged his tie. Madame la Marquise entered.</p> + +<p>"You, Henri!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>He bowed low with exaggerated grace, and kissed the tips of her fingers.</p> + +<p>"I!" he answered. "And—for this time with a perfectly legitimate reason +for my coming. A commission from my uncle."</p> + +<p>"<i>L'affaire Poynton?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Exactly, dear cousin."</p> + +<p>"But why," she asked, "did they not show you into my room?"</p> + +<p>"I learnt that my friend Sir George Duncombe was here, and I desired to +see him," he rejoined.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her dainty shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You will wait!" she directed. Then she turned to Duncombe, and handed +him a sealed envelope.</p> + +<p>"If you please," she said, "will you read that—now."</p> + +<p>He tore it open, and read the few hasty lines. Then he looked up, and +met the Marquise's expectant gaze.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said slowly, "does this come from Miss Poynton of her own +free will?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> + +<p>She laughed insolently.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she said, "my guests are subject to no coercion in this +house."</p> + +<p>He bowed, and turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Your answer, Monsieur?" she called out.</p> + +<p>"There is no answer," he replied.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_Va" id="CHAPTER_Va"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h4>THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS</h4> + + +<p>THE Marquise made a wry face at his departing figure, which changed +swiftly into a smile as she turned to the young Vicomte.</p> + +<p>"Ah, these Englishmen!" she exclaimed. "These dull, good, obstinate, +stupid pigs of Englishmen! If they would lose their tempers once—get +angry, anything. Do they make love as coldly, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Dear cousin," he answered, "I do not know. But if you will permit me I +will show you<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Henri!"</p> + +<p>He sighed.</p> + +<p>"You are so adorable, Angèle," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"And you," she answered, "are so indiscreet. It is not your day, and I +am expecting Gustav at any moment, I have left word that he is to be +shown up here. There, my hand for one moment, not so roughly, sir. And +now tell me why you came."</p> + +<p>"On a diplomatic errand, my dear cousin. I must see Miss Poynton."</p> + +<p>She touched a bell.</p> + +<p>"I will send for her," she said. "I shall not let you see her alone. She +is much too good-looking, and you are far too impressionable!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Angèle," he said, "you speak so of a young Eng<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>lish miss—to me, Henri +de Bergillac—to me who have known—who knows<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>She interrupted him laughing. The exaggerated devotion of his manner +seemed to amuse her.</p> + +<p>"My dear Henri!" she said. "I do not believe that even a young English +miss is safe from you. But attend! She comes."</p> + +<p>Phyllis entered the room and came towards them. She was dressed in +black, and she was still pale, but her eyes and mouth were wholly +without affinity to the class of young person whom Henri had expected to +see. He rose and bowed, and Phyllis regarded him with frank interest.</p> + +<p>"Phyllis," the Marquise said, "this is the Vicomte de Bergillac, and he +brings you messages from some one or other. Your affairs are quite too +complicated for my little head. Sit down and let him talk to you."</p> + +<p>"If Monsieur le Vicomte has brought me messages from the right person," +Phyllis said with a smile, "he will be very welcome. Seriously, +Monsieur, I seem to have fallen amongst friends here whose only +unkindness is an apparent desire to turn my life into a maze. I hope +that you are going to lead me out."</p> + +<p>"I can conceive, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered with his hand upon +his heart, "no more delightful undertaking."</p> + +<p>"Then I am quite sure," she answered, laughing softly, "that we are both +going to be very happy. Please go on!"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle speaks delightful French," he murmured, a little +surprised.</p> + +<p>"And, Monsieur, I can see," she answered, "is an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> apt flatterer. +Afterwards as much as you please. But now—well, I want to hear about +Guy."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle has commanded," he said with a little gesture. "To proceed +then. Monsieur Guy is well, and is my constant companion. He is with +friends who wish him well, and this morning, Mademoiselle, the President +himself has given written orders to the police to proceed no further in +the unfortunate little affair of which Mademoiselle has knowledge."</p> + +<p>Phyllis had lost all her pallor. She smiled delightfully upon him. +Madame la Marquise rose with a little impatient movement, and walked to +the further end of the room.</p> + +<p>"How nice of you to come and tell me this," she exclaimed, "and what a +relief! I am sure I think he is very fortunate to have made such good +friends."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he declared with emphasis, "one at least of those +friends is more than repaid."</p> + +<p>She laughed back into his eyes, frankly amused by his gallantry.</p> + +<p>"And now," she said, "we come to the beginning of the riddles. Why is it +necessary for him to be supposed drowned, if he is no longer in danger +from the police?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mademoiselle," he said, "I must speak to you now of strange things. +But, first, I must implore you to promise me this, and remember it +always. Every word that I am going to say to you now must remain for the +present a profound secret. That is agreed?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" she answered.</p> + +<p>"Your brother," he continued, "in his travels on the Continent stumbled +by chance upon a State secret<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> of international importance. He had +himself no idea of it, but a chance word which he let fall, on the first +evening I met him, gave the clue to myself and some friends. In his +enforced retirement we—that is, my uncle and others—learned from him +the whole story of his adventure. It has placed the Government of this +country under great obligations. This, together with your service to us, +has secured his pardon."</p> + +<p>"This is wonderful!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"It is not all," he continued. "The spies of the country where he learnt +this secret have followed him to Paris. They are to-day searching for +him everywhere. If they knew that he realized the importance of what he +had seen, and had communicated it to the proper persons here, our +advantage in knowing it would be largely lost. So far they have not +traced him. Now, I think that you have the key to what must have puzzled +you so much."</p> + +<p>"This is wonderful!" she murmured. "Let me think for a moment."</p> + +<p>"You are naturally anxious," the Vicomte continued, "to see your +brother. Before very long, Mademoiselle, I trust that it may be my +pleasure to bring you together. But when I tell you that you are watched +continually in the hope that, through you, your brother's hiding-place +may be found, you will understand the wisdom which for the present keeps +you apart."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," she answered dubiously. "But now that his death is +reported?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly, Mademoiselle. The affair has been arranged so that the search +for your brother will be abandoned and the espionage on you removed. If +the story of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> doings in Paris, and the tragic sequel to them, be +believed by those whom we wish to believe it, then they will also assume +that his secret has died with him, and that their schemes move on +towards success. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte, I understand," she answered slowly. "What, +then, do you wish me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered, fixing his dark eyes impressively +upon her, "for you there remains the hardest of all tasks—inaction. +Believe me that when I came here, it was not my intention to put the +truth of the matter so plainly before you. Neither was it the will of +those whose orders I carry out. But I, Mademoiselle, before all things, +I believe in inspiration. I find in Mademoiselle"—he bowed once +more—"qualities which alter the situation. I—a judge of faces as I +venture to believe myself—have looked into yours, and many things have +happened."</p> + +<p>She laughed delightfully. Her eyes were lit with humor.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Monsieur!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"With you, Mademoiselle," he continued, "reposes now a secret of great +importance to your country and mine. I ask for no pledge of discretion, +but I rely upon it. And, especially, Mademoiselle, may I warn you +against your friends?"</p> + +<p>"I understand," she answered. "You wish me to share this confidence with +no one."</p> + +<p>"With no one," the Vicomte repeated impressively. "Not even, +Mademoiselle, if I may venture to mention a name, with your very +persistent admirer, Sir George Duncombe, whom I saw here a few moments +since."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + +<p>She sighed, and the Vicomte's face became one of pale anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I have not been permitted to see him," she answered. "He was here a few +minutes ago."</p> + +<p>"It is wiser so, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte said. "I wonder," he added, +"whether Mademoiselle will pardon the impertinence of a purely personal +question?"</p> + +<p>"I will try," she answered demurely.</p> + +<p>"This Englishman—Sir George Duncombe—are you perhaps—how you say, +betrothed to him?"</p> + +<p>A certain bluntness in the question, and the real or affected anxiety of +the young man's tone brought the color streaming into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she exclaimed, "you really must not<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but, Mademoiselle," he interrupted, "so much depends upon your +answer."</p> + +<p>"Absurd!" she murmured. "I really do not see why I should answer such a +question at all."</p> + +<p>"You will be merciful?" he begged, lowering his tone.</p> + +<p>"I will," she answered. "I hope you will appreciate my confidence. I am +not engaged to Sir George Duncombe."</p> + +<p>His sigh of relief was marvellous. She found it harder than ever to keep +the laughter from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he declared, "it makes me happy to have you say this."</p> + +<p>"Really, Vicomte!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"The situation, too," he said, "becomes less complex. We can very easily +deal with him now. He shall annoy you no more!"</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't annoy me," she answered calmly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> "On the contrary I +should like to see him very much, if I were permitted."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle will understand well the indiscretion," he said earnestly.</p> + +<p>She sighed a little wearily.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," she said, "that I find it a little hard to understand +anything clearly, but you see that I trust you. I will not see him."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle is very wise," he answered. "Indeed, it is better not. +There remains now a question which I have come to ask."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle did not by chance whilst waiting for her brother think of +examining his luggage?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"I did look through it," she admitted.</p> + +<p>"There was a paper there, which is missing now—a sheet of paper with +writing on it—in German. It is not possible that Mademoiselle took +possession of it?" he demanded eagerly.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"That is just what I did do," she said. "I could read a few words, and I +could not understand how it came to be in his bag. It seemed to be part +of an official agreement between two countries."</p> + +<p>"You have it now?" he cried eagerly. "You have it in your possession?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head</p> + +<p>"I gave it to some one to take care of," she said, "when I was over in +England. I got frightened when we were nearly caught at Runton, and I +did not want it to be found upon me."</p> + +<p>"To whom?" he cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To Sir George Duncombe!"</p> + +<p>The Vicomte was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"You believe," he asked, "that Sir George Duncombe would guard it +carefully?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure he would," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he said, "this is very important. Your brother's luggage +has been searched, and we came to the conclusion that the paper had been +taken by those who had followed him here, and may possibly have been +aware that he had it. If we can get possession of it, it will be very +much to the advantage of your country and mine. I scarcely dare say +more. Will you give me a letter to Sir George instructing him to deliver +it up to me?"</p> + +<p>She leaned a little forward and looked steadily into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I do not know you very well, and it is +very hard indeed for me to tell who are my friends here. Can I trust +you?"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle," he answered, "I will not say 'like your brother,' for it +is a relationship I have no wish to bear. Let me say like the person to +whom your welfare is dearer even than his own."</p> + +<p>Phyllis felt her lips curve into a smile. Despite his youth and manner, +which seemed to her a little affected, there was nevertheless undoubted +earnestness in the admiration which he took no pains to conceal.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I will give you the +letter."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIa" id="CHAPTER_VIa"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h4>THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW</h4> + + +<p>They came face to face in the hall of the Grand Hotel. Duncombe had just +returned from his call upon the Marquise. Andrew was leaning upon the +arm of a dark, smooth-shaven man, and had apparently just descended from +the lift. At the sound of Duncombe's little exclamation they both +stopped short. Andrew turned his heavily spectacled eyes in Duncombe's +direction, but it was obvious that he saw nothing.</p> + +<p>"You here, Andrew!"</p> + +<p>"Yes! Why not?"</p> + +<p>The tone was curt, almost discourteous. Duncombe understood at once.</p> + +<p>"Let us sit down somewhere, and talk for a few minutes," he said. "I did +not expect you. You should have let me know that you were coming."</p> + +<p>Andrew laughed a little bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely see why," he said. "To tell you the truth, I see no +advantage to either of us in any intercourse."</p> + +<p>Duncombe took him by the arm and led him towards the smoking-room.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," he said, "perhaps I have behaved badly—at least from your +point of view, but remember that I warned you. Let us sit down here. Who +is your friend?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never mind," Andrew answered. "You can say what you have to before him. +He is in my confidence."</p> + +<p>Duncombe glanced around. The man had taken the chair next to them, and +was evidently prepared to listen to all that was said. His clothes and +bearing, and quiet, unobtrusive manners, all seemed to suggest +truthfully enough his possible identity—an English detective from an +advertised office. Duncombe smiled as he realized the almost pitiful +inadequacy of such methods.</p> + +<p>"Come, Andrew," he said, turning to his friend, "you have a small +grievance against me, and you think you have a great one."</p> + +<p>"A small grievance!" Andrew murmured softly. "Thank you, Duncombe."</p> + +<p>"Go on, then. State it!" Duncombe declared. "Let me hear what is in your +mind."</p> + +<p>Andrew raised his brows slowly. Twice he seemed to speak, but at the +last moment remained silent. He was obviously struggling to control +himself.</p> + +<p>"There is this in my mind against you, Duncombe," he said finally. "I +sent for you as a friend. You accepted a charge from me—as my friend. +And you betrayed me."</p> + +<p>Duncombe shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Andrew," he said. "I want to remind you again of what I said +just now. I warned you! No, don't interrupt. It may have sounded like +nonsense to you. I meant every word I said. I honestly tried to make you +understand. I came here; I risked many things. I failed! I returned to +England. Up till then you had nothing to complain of. Then, Heaven knows +why, but the very girl whom I had gone to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> Paris to seek came to Runton +in the guise at least of an adventuress."</p> + +<p>Andrew lifted his head quickly.</p> + +<p>"You admit it at last, then?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I admit it now," Duncombe agreed.</p> + +<p>"You lied to me there—to me who had no eyes, who trusted you. What was +that but betrayal, rank, inexcusable betrayal!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Andrew," Duncombe said. "She told me that she was not Phyllis +Poynton. It was enough for me. I disregarded my convictions. Her word +was my law. She said that she was not Phyllis Poynton, and to me she +never was Phyllis Poynton. She was afraid of you, and I helped her to +avoid you. I admit it! It is the extent of my failing in our friendship, +and you were warned."</p> + +<p>"And now?"</p> + +<p>"I am here now," Duncombe said a little sadly, "because I love her, and +because I cannot keep away. But she will not see me, and I am no nearer +solving the mystery than ever. On the contrary, I know that I am in +danger here. It is possible that I may be driven to leave Paris +to-night."</p> + +<p>"You know where she is now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Andrew leaned suddenly over, and his grip was on Duncombe's shoulder +like a vise.</p> + +<p>"Then, by God, you shall tell me!" he said fiercely. "Don't you know, +man, that Guy has been found in the Seine, robbed and drugged, and +murdered without a doubt? Do you want me to wait whilst something of the +same sort happens to her? You shall tell me where she is, Duncombe. I +say that you shall tell me!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe hesitated.</p> + +<p>"You can do no more than I have done," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then at least I will do as much," Andrew answered. "I am her oldest +friend, and I have claims upon her which you never could have. Now that +she is in this terrible trouble my place is by her side. I<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"One moment, Andrew," Duncombe interrupted. "Are you sure that it was +Guy Poynton who was found in the Seine? The height was given as five +feet nine, and Guy Poynton was over six feet."</p> + +<p>"You should read the papers," Andrew answered shortly. "He was +identified by his sister."</p> + +<p>"The papers said so," Duncombe answered hesitatingly; "but<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>"Look here," Andrew interrupted, "I have had enough of this playing with +facts. You have grown too complex about this business altogether, +Duncombe. Give me Phyllis Poynton's address."</p> + +<p>"You shall have it," Duncombe answered, taking a leaf from his +pocketbook and writing. "I don't think that it will be any good to you. +I think that it is more likely to lead you into trouble. Miss Poynton is +with the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. They are of the first +nobility in France. Their position as people of honor and circumstance +appears undoubted. But nevertheless, if you are allowed to see her I +shall be surprised."</p> + +<p>The hall-porter approached them, hat in hand.</p> + +<p>"A lady to see Monsieur," he announced to Andrew.</p> + +<p>Andrew rose and took his companion's arm. He scarcely glanced again +towards Duncombe, who followed them out of the room. And there in the +hall awaiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> them was the young lady from Vienna, quietly dressed in +black, but unmistakable with her pretty hair and perfumes. Duncombe +watched them shake hands and move away before he could recover +sufficiently from his first fit of surprise to intervene. Then a +realization of what had happened rushed in upon him. They, too, then, +had been to the Café Montmartre, with their obvious Anglicisms, their +clumsy inquiries—to make of themselves without doubt the jest of that +little nest of intriguers, and afterwards their tool. Duncombe thought +of the fruits of his own inquiries there, and shivered. He hurried after +the little party, who were apparently on their way to the café.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," he said, grasping him by the arm, "I must speak with you +alone—at once."</p> + +<p>"I see no object in any further discussion between us," Andrew said +calmly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool!" Duncombe answered. "That woman you are with is a spy. +If you have anything to do with her you are injuring Phyllis Poynton. +She is not here to give you information. She is at work for her own +ends."</p> + +<p>"You are becoming more communicative, my friend," Andrew said, with +something which was almost a sneer. "You did not talk so freely a few +minutes back. It seems as though we were on the eve of a discovery."</p> + +<p>"You are on the brink of making an idiot of yourself," Duncombe answered +quickly. "You were mad to bring that blundering English detective over +here. What the French police cannot or do not choose to discover, do you +suppose that they would allow an Englishman to find out—a stranger to +Paris, and with an accent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> like that? If I cannot keep you from folly by +any other means I must break my word to others. Come back into the +smoking-room with me, and I will tell you why you are mad to have +anything to do with that woman."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Andrew answered, "I think not. I have confidence in Mr. +Lloyd, my friend here, and I have none in you."</p> + +<p>"Andrew!"</p> + +<p>"I speak as I feel!"</p> + +<p>"Leave me out of the question. It is Phyllis Poynton you will harm. I +see that your friend is listening, and Mademoiselle is impatient. Make +your excuses for ten minutes, Andrew. You will never regret it."</p> + +<p>The detective, who had evidently overheard everything, stepped back to +them.</p> + +<p>"You will excuse my interfering, sir," he said, "but if this case is to +remain in my hands at all it is necessary for me to hear all that Sir +George Duncombe has to say. The young lady will wait for a moment. This +case is difficult enough as it is, what with the jealousy of the French +police, who naturally don't want us to find out what they can't. If Sir +George Duncombe has any information to give now," the man added with +emphasis, "which he withheld a few minutes ago, I think that I ought to +hear it from his own lips."</p> + +<p>"I agree entirely with what Mr. Lloyd has said," Andrew declared.</p> + +<p>Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He looked around him cautiously, but +they were in a corner of the entresol, and no one was within hearing +distance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very well," he said. "To save you from danger, and Miss Poynton from +further trouble, I am going to break a confidence which has been reposed +in me, and to give you the benefit of my own surmises. In the first +place, Mr. Lloyd is mistaken in supposing that the French police have +been in the least puzzled by this double disappearance. On the contrary, +they are perfectly well aware of all the facts of the case, and could +have produced Miss Poynton or her brother at any moment. They are +working not for us, but against us!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" Mr. Lloyd said in a tone of disbelief. "And their object?"</p> + +<p>"Here is as much of the truth as I dare tell you," Duncombe said. "Guy +Poynton whilst on the Continent became the chance possessor of an +important State secret. He was followed to France by spies from that +country—we will call it Germany—and the young lady who awaits you so +impatiently is, if not one of them, at least one of their friends. At +the Café Montmartre he gave his secret away to people who are in some +measure allied with the secret service police of France. He was +kidnapped by them, and induced to remain hidden by a trick. Meanwhile +diplomacy makes use of his information, and foreign spies look for him +in vain. His sister, when she came to search for him, was simply an +inconvenience which these people had not contemplated. She was worked +upon by fears concerning her brother's safety to go into hiding. Both +have been well cared for, and the report of Guy's death is, I firmly +believe, nothing but an attempt to lull the anxieties of the spies who +are searching for him. This young woman here may be able to tell you +into whose hands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> he has fallen, but you may take my word for it that +she is in greater need of information than you are, and that she is an +exceedingly dangerous person for you to discuss the Poyntons with. There +are the crude facts. I have only known them a few hours myself, and +there is a good deal which I cannot explain. But this I honestly and +firmly believe. Neither you nor I nor Mr. Lloyd here can do the +slightest good by interfering in this matter. For myself, I am leaving +for England to-night."</p> + +<p>Duncombe, like most honest men, expected to be believed. If he had +entertained the slightest doubt about it he would not have dared to open +his mouth. The silence that followed he could understand. No doubt they +were as amazed as he had been. But it was a different thing when he saw +the expression on Andrew's face as he turned to his companion.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of this, Lloyd?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, sir," the man answered, "that some of the clever ones have +been imposing upon Sir George. It generally turns out so when amateurs +tackle a job like this."</p> + +<p>Duncombe looked at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you don't believe me?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't put it like that, sir," the man answered with a deprecating +smile. "I think you have been misled by those who did not wish you to +discover the truth."</p> + +<p>Duncombe turned sharply on his heel.</p> + +<p>"And you, Andrew?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to do you justice," Andrew answered coldly, "and I am willing to +believe that you have faith your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>self in the extraordinary story you +have just told us. But frankly I think that you have been too +credulous."</p> + +<p>Duncombe lost his temper. He turned on his heel, and walked back into +the hotel.</p> + +<p>"You can go to the devil your own way!" he declared.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIIa" id="CHAPTER_VIIa"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h4>SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE</h4> + + +<p>Spencer tried to rise from the sofa, but the effort was too much for +him. Pale and thin, with black lines under his eyes, and bloodless lips, +he seemed scarcely more than the wreck of his former self.</p> + +<p>His visitor laid his stick and hat upon the table. Then he bowed once +more to Spencer, and stood looking at him, leaning slightly against the +table.</p> + +<p>"I am permitted," he asked gently, "to introduce myself?"</p> + +<p>"Quite unnecessary!" Spencer answered.</p> + +<p>The Baron shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You know me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The shadow of a smile flitted across Spencer's face.</p> + +<p>"By many names, Monsieur Louis," he answered.</p> + +<p>His visitor smiled. Debonair in dress and deportment, there seemed +nothing to inspire alarm in the air of gentle concern with which he +regarded the man whom he had come to visit. Yet Spencer cursed the +languor which had kept him from recovering the revolver which an hour or +more before had slipped from underneath his cushion.</p> + +<p>"It saves trouble," Monsieur Louis said. "I come to you. Monsieur +Spencer, as a friend."</p> + +<p>"You alarm me," Spencer murmured.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are pleased to be witty," he answered. "But indeed I am no such +terrible person. It is permitted that I smoke?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Spencer answered. "If you care for wine or liqueurs pray +ring for my servant. I can assure you that it is not by my own will that +you find me so indifferent a host."</p> + +<p>"I thank you," Monsieur Louis answered. "I think that we will not ring +the bell. It would be a pity to disturb an interview to which I have +looked forward with so much pleasure."</p> + +<p>"<i>L'affaire Poynton?</i>" Spencer suggested.</p> + +<p>"Precisely!"</p> + +<p>"You have perhaps come to complete the little affair in which so far you +have succeeded so admirably?"</p> + +<p>"Pray do not suggest such a thing," Monsieur Louis answered +deprecatingly. "For one thing I should not personally run the risk. And +for another have I not already assured you that I come as a friend?"</p> + +<p>"It was then," Spencer answered, "that I began to be frightened."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis smiled. He drew a gold cigarette case from his pocket, +and calmly lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Since you permit, <i>mon ami</i>," he said. "Good! I speak better when I +smoke. You are not so ill, I see, but that you retain that charming +sense of humor your readers have learnt so well how to appreciate."</p> + +<p>"The dose was scarcely strong enough," Spencer answered. "Or perhaps by +good fortune I stumbled upon the proper antidote."</p> + +<p>"I see that you like plain speaking," Monsieur Louis continued with a +gentle smile. "Permit me to assure you then that the dose was quite as +strong as we wished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> Extremes are sometimes necessary, but we avoid +them whenever possible."</p> + +<p>"I wonder where it happened," Spencer said reflectively. "I have been on +my guard all the time. I have watched my wine and coffee at the cafés, +and I have eaten only in the restaurants that I know."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis did not seem to think the matter important.</p> + +<p>"It was bound to happen," he said. "If you had been like your +friends—the English baronet and the last two, who are even more +amusing—perhaps it would not have been necessary. But you +understand—you were beginning to discover things."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Spencer admitted. "I was beginning to get interested."</p> + +<p>"Exactly! We were forced to act. I can assure you, Monsieur Spencer, +that it was with reluctance. The others of whom I have spoken—Sir +George Duncombe, Monsieur Pelham, and his toy detective—forgive me that +I smile—walk all the time in the palm of our hand. But they remain +unharmed. If by any chance they should blunder into the knowledge of +things which might cause us annoyance, why, then—there would be more +invalids in Paris. Indeed, Monsieur, we do not seek to abuse our power. +My errand to you to-day is one of mercy."</p> + +<p>"You make me ashamed," Spencer said, with a sarcasm which he took no +pains to conceal, "of my unworthy suspicions. To proceed."</p> + +<p>"You have sent for Sir George Duncombe to come and see you!"</p> + +<p>Spencer was silent for a moment. His own servant unfaithful? It was not +possible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Even you," the Baron continued, "have not yet solved the mystery of +<i>l'affaire Poynton</i>. But you know more than Sir George. Let me recommend +that you do not share your knowledge with him."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"If you do Sir George will at once share your indisposition."</p> + +<p>"I begin to understand," Spencer said.</p> + +<p>"How otherwise? Send Sir George home. You see the delicacy of our +position. It is not so much that we fear Sir George Duncombe's +interference, but he again is followed and watched over by our enemies, +who would easily possess themselves of any information which he might +gain."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"It is good reasoning," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"Listen," Monsieur Louis continued. "I speak now on behalf of my +friends. You know whom I mean. You have solved the mystery of our +existence. We are omnipotent. The police and the secret service police +and the Government itself are with us. We have license throughout the +city. We may do what others may not. For us there is no crime. I kill +you now perhaps. The police arrive. I am before the Commissioner. I give +him the sign—it is <i>l'affaire Poynton</i>. I go free! It is a certain +thing."</p> + +<p>"Granted!" Spencer said. "Proceed with your killing, or your argument."</p> + +<p>"With the latter, if you please," Monsieur Louis answered. "I do not +choose to kill. <i>L'affaire Poynton</i>, then. Harm is not meant to either +of these young people. That I assure you upon my honor. In three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> weeks, +or say a month, we have finished. They may return to their homes if they +will. We have no further interest in them. For those three weeks you +must remain as you are—you, and if you have influence over him, Sir +George Duncombe. The other two fools we have no care for. If they +blundered into knowledge—well, they must pay. They are not our concern, +yours and mine. For you, I bring you an offer, Monsieur Spencer."</p> + +<p>"<i>Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes!</i>" Spencer murmured.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis smiled.</p> + +<p>"My gift," he answered, "will not terrify you. You are a journalist. I +offer to make the fortune of your paper. You shall be the first to +announce an affair of the greatest international importance since the +war between Russia and Japan was declared. No, I will go further than +that. It is the greatest event since Waterloo."</p> + +<p>"<i>L'affaire Poynton</i> strikes so deep?" Spencer remarked.</p> + +<p>"So deep," the Baron answered. "It is the fools who grope their way into +great places. So did the boy Poynton. You, my friend, shall be the one +brilliant exception. You shall make yourself the king of journalists, +and you shall be quoted down the century as having achieved the greatest +journalistic feat of modern days."</p> + +<p>Spencer turned his drawn, haggard face towards his visitor. A slight +flush of color stained his cheek.</p> + +<p>"You fascinate me," he said slowly. "I admit it. You have found the weak +spot in my armor. Proceed! For whom do you speak?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis abandoned his somewhat lounging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> attitude. He stood by +Spencer's side, and, leaning down, whispered in his ear. Spencer's eyes +grew bright.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Louis," he said, "you play at a great game."</p> + +<p>The Baron shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Me!" he answered. "I am but a pawn. I do what I am told."</p> + +<p>"To return for a moment to <i>l'affaire Poynton</i>," Spencer said. "I am in +the humor to trust you. Have I then your assurance that the boy and girl +do not suffer?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my own honor and the honor of the company to whom I belong," he +answered with some show of dignity. "It is a pledge which I have never +yet broken."</p> + +<p>"I am a bribed man," Spencer answered.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis threw away his second cigarette. He cast a look almost of +admiration upon the man who still lay stretched upon the couch.</p> + +<p>"You are the only Englishman I ever met, Monsieur Spencer," he said, +"who was not pig-headed. You have the tenacity of your countrymen, but +you have the genius to pick out the right thread from the tangle, to +know truth when you meet it, even in unlikely places. I doff my hat to +you, Monsieur Spencer. If you permit I will send my own physician to +you. You will be yourself in a week."</p> + +<p>"You know the antidote?" Spencer remarked grimly.</p> + +<p>"Naturally! Accidents will happen. You wish that I should send him?"</p> + +<p>"Without doubt," Spencer answered. "I am weary of this couch."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You shall leave it in a week," Monsieur promised, as he left the room.</p> + +<p>Spencer closed his eyes. Already he felt coming on the daily headache, +which, with the terrible weakness, was a part of his symptoms. But there +was no rest for him yet. Monsieur Louis had scarcely been gone five +minutes when Duncombe arrived.</p> + +<p>Duncombe had had no word of his friend's illness. He stood over his +couch in shocked surprise.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," he exclaimed. "I had no idea that you were ill. This +is why I have not heard from you, then."</p> + +<p>Spencer smiled as he held out his hand, and Duncombe, who seemed to +catch some meaning in the upraised eyebrows of his friend, was shocked.</p> + +<p>"You mean?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"<i>L'affaire Poynton</i>" he said gently. "A very subtle dose of poison +indeed, my friend. I shall not die, but I have had my little lesson. +Here the individual has little chance. We fight against forces that are +too many for us. I told you so at the start."</p> + +<p>"Yet I," Duncombe answered, "have not suffered."</p> + +<p>"My friend," Spencer answered, "it is because I am the more dangerous."</p> + +<p>"You have discovered something?" Duncombe exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I came near discovering a great deal," Spencer answered. "Perhaps it +would have been better for my system if I had discovered a little less. +As it is I have finished with <i>l'affaire Poynton</i> for the present. You +see how very nearly <i>l'affaire Poynton</i> finished me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is not like you," Duncombe said thoughtfully, "to give anything up."</p> + +<p>"We come face to face sometimes with unique experiences, which destroy +precedent," Spencer answered. "This is one of them."</p> + +<p>"And what," Duncombe asked, "do you advise me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Always the same advice," Spencer answered. "Leave Paris to-day. Go +straight back to Norfolk, read the newspapers, and await events."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think that I shall do so," Duncombe answered slowly. "I have +found out where Miss Poynton is, but she will not see me. I have made an +enemy of my dearest friend, and I have, at any rate, interrupted your +career and endangered your life. Yes, I will go back home."</p> + +<p>"You may yet save your friend some—inconvenience," Spencer suggested. +"Try to persuade him to go back with you."</p> + +<p>"He will not listen to me," Duncombe answered. "He has brought an +English detective with him, and he is as obstinate as a mule. For myself +I leave at nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>"You are well advised, exceedingly well advised," Spencer said. "Mind I +do not take the responsibility of sending you away without serious +reasons. I honestly believe that Miss Poynton is safe, whatever may have +happened to her brother, and I believe that you will serve her best by +your temporary absence."</p> + +<p>Duncombe stood for a moment wrapped in thought. The last few months had +aged him strangely. The strenuous days and nights of anxious thought had +left their mark in deep lines upon his face. He looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> out of the +window of Spencer's room, and his eyes saw little of the busy street +below. He was alone once more with this strange, terrified girl upon the +hillside, with the wind in their faces, and making wild havoc in her +hair. He was with her in different moods in the little room behind his +library, when the natural joy of her young life had for the moment +reasserted itself. He was with her at their parting. He saw half the +fearful regret with which she had left his care and accepted the +intervention of the Marquise. Stirring times these had been for a man of +his quiet temperament, whom matters of sentiment and romance had passed +lightly by, and whose passions had never before been touched by the +finger of fire. And now he was going back to an empty life—a life at +least empty of joy, save the hope of seeing her again. For good or for +evil, the great thing had found its way into his life. His days of calm +animal enjoyment were over. Sorrow or joy was to be his. He had passed +into the shadows of the complex life.</p> + +<p>He remembered where he was at last, and turned to Spencer.</p> + +<p>"About yourself, Spencer," he said. "Have you seen a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am not seriously ill," his friend answered. "The worst is over +now. And, Duncombe, it's hard for you to go, I know—but look here, I +believe that you will be back in a month, and taking Miss Poynton to +lunch <i>chez</i> Ritz. I never felt so sure of it as I do to-day."</p> + +<p>Duncombe remembered the answer to his note, and found it hard to share +his friend's cheerfulness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIa" id="CHAPTER_VIIIa"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h4>A POLITICAL INTERLUDE</h4> + + +<p>Duncombe laid down his cue and strolled towards the sideboard, where his +guest was already mixing himself a whisky and soda.</p> + +<p>"By the by, Runton," he said, "have you seen anything of our friend Von +Rothe since that little affair at your place?"</p> + +<p>Lord Runton shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Not once," he answered. "He behaved very decently about it on the +whole; treated it quite lightly—but he wouldn't let me go near the +police. It was a long way the most unpleasant thing that ever happened +in my house."</p> + +<p>"Never any further light upon it, I suppose?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>Lord Runton shook his head.</p> + +<p>"None. Of course we could have traced them both without a doubt if we +had put it in the hands of the police, but Von Rothe wouldn't hear of +it. He tried to treat it lightly, but I know that he was very much +worried."</p> + +<p>"Do you yourself believe," Duncombe asked, "that it was a political +affair or an ordinary robbery?"</p> + +<p>"I think that it was the former," Lord Runton answered. "Those people +were not common adventurers. By the by, George, have you got over your +little weakness yet?" he added with a smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>Duncombe shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Nearly made a fool of myself, didn't I?" he remarked, with a levity +which did not sound altogether natural.</p> + +<p>"She was an uncommonly fascinating young woman," Lord Runton said, "but +she didn't seem to me very old at the game. She was clever enough to +fool Von Rothe, though. He admits that he told her that he was expecting +a special messenger from Berlin."</p> + +<p>Duncombe seemed to have had enough of the subject. He got up and filled +his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Is Jack coming down this week?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No! He wired this morning that he can't get away. Sefton isn't coming, +either. Between ourselves, George, something seems to be going on at the +Foreign Office which I don't understand."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked. "There has been no hint at any sort +of trouble in the papers."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I don't understand," Lord Runton continued. "It is +certain that there is an extraordinary amount of activity at Portsmouth +and Woolwich, but even the little halfpenny sensational papers make no +more than a passing allusion to it. Then look at the movements of our +fleet. The whole of the Mediterranean Fleet is at Gibraltar, and the +Channel Squadron is moving up the North Sea as though to join the Home +Division. All these movements are quite unusual."</p> + +<p>"What do you make of them then?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely know," Lord Runton answered. "But I can tell you this. There +have been three Cabinet Councils this week, and there is a curious air +of apprehension in official circles in town, as though something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> were +about to happen. The service clubs are almost deserted, and I know for a +fact that all leave in the navy has been suspended. What I don't +understand is the silence everywhere. It looks to me as though there +were really going to be trouble. The Baltic Fleet sailed this morning, +you know."</p> + +<p>Duncombe nodded.</p> + +<p>"But," he said, "even if they were ill disposed to us, as no doubt +Russia is just now, what could they do? One squadron of our fleet could +send them to the bottom."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," Lord Runton answered. "But supposing they found an ally?"</p> + +<p>"France will never go to war with us for Russia's benefit," Duncombe +declared.</p> + +<p>"Granted," Lord Runton answered, "but have you watched Germany's +attitude lately?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say that I have," Duncombe admitted, "but I should never look +upon Germany as a war-seeking nation."</p> + +<p>"No, I dare say not," Lord Runton answered. "Nor would a great many +other people. Every one is willing to admit that she would like our +Colonies, but no one will believe that she has the courage to strike a +blow for them. I will tell you what I believe, Duncombe. I believe that +no Great Power has ever before been in so dangerous a position as we are +in to-day."</p> + +<p>Duncombe sat up in his chair. The weariness passed from his face, and he +was distinctly interested. Lord Runton, without being an ardent +politician, was a man of common-sense, and was closely connected with +more than one member of the Cabinet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you serious, Runton?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely! Remember, I was in Berlin for two years, and I had many +opportunities of gaining an insight into affairs there. What I can see +coming now I have expected for years. There are two great factors which +make for war. One is the character of the Emperor himself, and the other +the inevitable rot, which must creep like a disease into a great army +kept always upon a war footing, through a decade or more of inactivity. +The Emperor is shrewd enough to see this. Nothing can possibly exist at +its best which is not used for the purpose to which it owes its +existence. That is why we have this flood of literature just now telling +us of the gross abuses and general rottenness of the German army. +Another five years of idleness, and Germany's position as the first +military nation will have passed away. Like every other great power, it +is rusting for want of use. The Emperor knows this."</p> + +<p>Duncombe for many reasons was fascinated by his friend's quiet words. +Apart from their obvious plausibility, they brought with them many +startling suggestions. Had chance, he wondered, really made Phyllis +Poynton and her brother pawns in the great game? He felt himself stirred +to a rare emotion by the flood of possibilities which swept in suddenly +upon him. Lord Runton noted with surprise the signs of growing +excitement in his listener.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Runton. Anything else?"</p> + +<p>Lord Runton helped himself to a cigarette, and leaned across to light +it.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he continued, "I know that there are a great many people +who firmly believe that for com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>mercial reasons Germany would never seek +a quarrel with us. I will agree with them so far as to say that I do not +believe that a war with England would be popular amongst the bourgeois +of Germany. On the other hand, they would be quite powerless to prevent +it. The Emperor and his ministers have the affair in their own hands. A +slight break in our diplomatic relations, some trifle seized hold of by +the Press and magnified at once into an insult, and the war torch is +kindled. To-day war does not come about by the slowly growing desire of +nations. The threads of fate are in the hands of a few diplomatists at +Berlin and London—a turn of the wrist, and there is tension which a +breath can turn either way. You ask me why the Emperor should choose +England for attack. There are many reasons: first, because England alone +could repay him for the struggle; secondly, because he is intensely and +miserably jealous of our own King, who has avoided all his own +hot-headed errors, and has yet played a great and individual part in the +world's affairs; thirdly, because England is most easily attacked. I +could give you other reasons if you wanted them."</p> + +<p>"Quite enough," Duncombe answered. "What do you suppose would be the +<i>casus belli</i>?"</p> + +<p>"The progress of the Russian fleet through English waters," Lord Runton +answered promptly. "Russia's interest in such a misunderstanding would +be, of course, immense. She has only to fire on an English ship, by +mistake of course, and the whole fat would be in the fire. England +probably would insist upon the squadron being detained, Germany would +protest against any such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> action. We might very well be at war with +Russia and Germany within ten days. Russia would immediately either make +terms with Japan, or abandon any active operations in Manchuria and move +upon India. Germany would come for us."</p> + +<p>"Is this all purely imagination?" Duncombe asked, "or have you anything +to go on?"</p> + +<p>"So far as I am concerned," Lord Runton said slowly, "I, of course, know +nothing. But I have a strong idea that the Government have at least a +suspicion of some secret understanding between Russia and Germany. Their +preparations seem almost to suggest it. Of course we outsiders can only +guess, after all, at what is going on, but it seems to me that there is +a chance to-day for our Government to achieve a diplomatic <i>coup</i>."</p> + +<p>"In what direction?"</p> + +<p>"An alliance with France. Mind, I am afraid that there are +insurmountable obstacles, but if it were possible it would be checkmate +to our friend the Emperor, and he would have nothing left but to climb +down. The trouble is that in the absence of any definite proof of an +understanding between Russia and Germany, France could not break away +from her alliance with the former. Our present arrangement would ensure, +I believe, a benevolent neutrality, but an alliance, if only it could be +compassed, would be the greatest diplomatic triumph of our days. Hullo! +Visitors at this hour. Wasn't that your front-door bell, Duncombe?"</p> + +<p>"It sounded like it," Duncombe answered. "Perhaps it is your man."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Like his cheek, if it is!" Lord Runton answered, rising to his feet and +strolling towards the sideboard. "I told him I would telephone round to +the stables when I was ready. I suppose it is rather late, though I +sha'n't apologize for keeping you up."</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't," Duncombe answered. "I have never been more +interested in my life—for many reasons. Don't bother about your man. +Groves will see to him. Help yourself to another whisky and soda, and +come and sit down."</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door, and the butler appeared.</p> + +<p>"There are three gentlemen outside, sir, who wish to see you," he +announced to Duncombe. "They will not give their names, but they say +that their business is important, or they would not have troubled you so +late."</p> + +<p>Duncombe glanced at the clock. It was past midnight.</p> + +<p>"Three gentlemen," he repeated, "at this time of night. But where on +earth have they come from, Groves?"</p> + +<p>"They did not say, sir," the man answered. "One of them I should judge +to be a foreigner. They have a motor car outside."</p> + +<p>Lord Runton held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's time I was off, anyhow," he remarked. "Come over and have +lunch to-morrow. Don't bother about me. I'll stroll round to the stables +and start from there. Good night."</p> + +<p>Duncombe hesitated. He was on the point of asking his friend to stay, +but before he could make up his mind Runton had lit a cigarette and +strolled away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You can show the gentlemen in here, Groves," Duncombe said.</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir."</p> + +<p>The man disappeared. Duncombe, after a moment's hesitation, crossed the +room, and opening an oak cupboard, slipped a small revolver into his +pocket.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IXa" id="CHAPTER_IXa"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h4>ARRESTED!</h4> + + +<p>One of his three visitors Duncombe recognized immediately. It was +Monsieur Louis. Of the other two one was a Frenchman, a somewhat +sombre-looking person, in a black beard and gold-rimmed eyeglasses, the +other as unmistakably an Englishman of the lower middle class. His broad +shoulders and somewhat stiff bearing seemed to suggest some sort of +drill. Looking them over, Duncombe found himself instinctively wondering +whether the personal strength of these two, which was obvious, might +become a factor in the coming interview.</p> + +<p>The Baron naturally was spokesman. He bowed very gravely to Duncombe, +and did not offer his hand.</p> + +<p>"I must apologize, Sir George," he said, "for disturbing you at such an +inopportune hour. Our business, however, made it necessary for us to +reach you with as little delay as possible."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will be good enough to explain," Duncombe answered, "what +that business is."</p> + +<p>The Baron raised his hands with a little protesting gesture.</p> + +<p>"I regret to tell you, Sir George," he announced, "that it is of a most +unpleasant nature. I could wish that its execution had fallen into other +hands. My companions are Monsieur Ridalle, of the French detective +service, and our other friend here, whom I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> do not know, is a constable +from the Norwich Police Court. My own connections with the police +service of my country you have already, without doubt, surmised."</p> + +<p>"Go on," Duncombe said.</p> + +<p>"I regret to say," Monsieur Louis continued, "that my friends here are +in charge of a warrant for your arrest. You will find them possessed of +all the legal documents, French and English. We shall have to ask you to +come to Norwich with us to-night."</p> + +<p>"Arrest!" Duncombe repeated. "On what charge?"</p> + +<p>"An extremely serious one," the Baron answered gravely. "The charge of +murder!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe stared at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Murder!" he repeated. "What rubbish!"</p> + +<p>"The murder of Mademoiselle de Mermillon in her lodging on the night of +the seventh of June last," the Baron said gravely. "Please do not make +any remarks before these men. The evidence against you is already +sufficiently strong."</p> + +<p>Duncombe laughed derisively.</p> + +<p>"What sort of a puppet show is this?" he exclaimed. "You know as well as +any man living how that poor girl came to her end. This is a cover for +something else, of course. What do you want of me? Let's get at it +without wasting time."</p> + +<p>"What we want of you is, I am afraid, only too simple," the Baron +answered, shrugging his shoulders. "We must ask you to accompany us at +once to Norwich Castle. You will have to appear before the magistrates +in the morning, when they will sign the extradition warrant. Our friend +here, Monsieur Ridalle, will then take charge of you. Perhaps you would +like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> to look through the documents. You will find them all in perfect +order."</p> + +<p>Duncombe mechanically glanced through the French and English papers +which were spread out before him. They had certainly a most +uncomfortable appearance of being genuine. He began to feel a little +bewildered.</p> + +<p>"You mean to say that you have come here to arrest me on this charge? +That you want me to go away with you to-night?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It is not a matter of wanting you to come," the Baron answered coldly. +"It is a matter of necessity."</p> + +<p>Duncombe moved towards the fireplace.</p> + +<p>"Will you allow me the privilege of a few moments' conversation with you +in private?" he said to the Baron. "Your companions will perhaps excuse +you for a moment."</p> + +<p>The Baron followed without remark. They stood facing one another upon +the hearthrug. Duncombe leaned one elbow upon the mantlepiece, and +turned towards his companion.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "those papers seem genuine enough, and if you +insist upon it I will go with you to Norwich. I shall take care not to +let you out of my sight, and if when we get there I find that this is +any part of one of your confounded conspiracies you will find that the +penalties for this sort of thing in England are pretty severe. However, +no doubt you are well aware of that. The question is this. What do you +really want from me?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis, who had lit a cigarette, withdrew it from his mouth and +examined the lighted end for a moment in silence.</p> + +<p>"The documents," he said, "are genuine. You are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> arraigned in perfectly +legal fashion. Upon the affidavits there the magistrates must grant the +extradition warrant without hesitation. We have nothing to fear in that +direction."</p> + +<p>"The police," Duncombe remarked, "are perfectly aware of my innocence."</p> + +<p>Monsieur shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The evidence," he said, "is remarkably convincing."</p> + +<p>"Police-concocted evidence," Duncombe remarked, "would necessarily be +so. I admit that you hold a strong card against me. I don't believe, +however, that you have gone to all this trouble without some ulterior +motive. What is it? What can I offer you in exchange for these +documents?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis smiled.</p> + +<p>"You are a man of common-sense, Sir George," he said. "I will speak to +you without reserve. It is possible that you might be able to offer the +Government department of my country to which I am attached an inducement +to interest themselves in your behalf. Mind, I am not sure. But if my +information is correct there is certainly a possibility."</p> + +<p>"The Government department of your country to which you are attached," +Duncombe repeated thoughtfully. "Let me understand you. You mean the +secret service police?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis glanced a little nervously over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Never mind what I mean, Sir George," he said quickly. "There are things +which we do not speak of openly. This much is sufficient. I represent a +power which can influence and direct even the criminal courts of justice +of France."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What bribe have I to offer you?" Duncombe asked. "Information? You know +more than I do. I am afraid you have been misled."</p> + +<p>"I think not," Monsieur Louis said quickly. "I will tell you what we +want. A paper was left in your charge by Miss Phyllis Poynton at the +time she was visiting at Runton Place."</p> + +<p>"What of it?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>The Frenchman's face was suddenly tense with excitement. He recovered +himself almost at once, but his voice shook, and a new earnestness found +its way into his manner.</p> + +<p>"Miss Poynton and her brother are with us," he said. "It is we who have +been their benefactors. You know a good deal of their peculiar +circumstances. A sudden need has arisen for the production of that paper +within twenty-four hours. Give it to me now, and I will run the greatest +risk I have ever run in my career. I will tear those warrants through."</p> + +<p>"Have you any authority from Miss Poynton?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>"There was no time to procure it," Monsieur Louis explained. "Events +march rapidly to-day. To be effective that paper must be in Paris +to-morrow. The necessity for its production arose only a few hours ago."</p> + +<p>"You ask me, then," Duncombe said slowly, "to hand over to you a paper +which was placed in my charge by Miss Poynton?"</p> + +<p>"In effect—yes!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot do it!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I do not insist," he remarked. "I may be permitted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> to remind you, +however, that I have offered a great price."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps!" Duncombe answered quietly.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis turned to his assistants.</p> + +<p>"Sir George Duncombe will accompany us," he said. "I can give you ten +minutes, Sir George," he added, "in case you care to change your +clothes."</p> + +<p>"And supposing I refuse to come?" Duncombe asked.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis smiled.</p> + +<p>"You would scarcely be so foolish," he remarked. "In that case I should +send the policeman here to the nearest station with the warrants and a +demand for help. Our documents are in perfect order, and our case +complete. You would scarcely be so foolish, I think, as to set yourself +in direct opposition to the law!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe was silent for several moments. Then he rang the bell. Monsieur +Louis looked at him inquiringly, but before he could frame a question +the butler was in the room.</p> + +<p>"Pack my things for a week, Groves," Duncombe ordered. "I am going away +to-night."</p> + +<p>The man bowed and withdrew. Monsieur Louis merely shrugged his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"A week!" he remarked. "You will be fortunate if you ever see your home +again. Come, Sir George, be reasonable! I give you my word of honor that +it is altogether to the interest of Miss Poynton that those papers be +immediately produced. If she were here herself she would place them in +my hands without a moment's hesitation."</p> + +<p>"Possibly!" Duncombe answered. "Suppositions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> however, do not interest +me. I undertook the charge of what she gave me, and I shall fulfil my +trust."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis turned to the policeman.</p> + +<p>"Officer," he said, "this is Sir George Duncombe. Do your duty."</p> + +<p>The man stepped forward and laid his hand upon Sir George's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Very sorry, sir," he said. "I am forced to arrest you on this warrant +for the murder of Florence Mermillon on the night of the seventh of +June. You will be brought before the magistrates at Norwich to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Duncombe waved his hand towards the sideboard.</p> + +<p>"If you gentlemen," he remarked, "would care for a little refreshment +before you start?"</p> + +<p>"It is against the rules, sir, thank you," the man answered. "I should +be glad to get away as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>Duncombe filled both his pockets with cigars and cigarettes. Then he +turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I am quite ready," he said.</p> + +<p>They followed him out. There was a few minutes' delay waiting for +Duncombe's bag.</p> + +<p>"Your address, Sir George?" Groves inquired, as he brought it down.</p> + +<p>"A little doubtful," Duncombe answered. "I will wire."</p> + +<p>"In front, please, Sir George," Monsieur Louis insisted.</p> + +<p>So they drove off, Duncombe in the front seat, the other three behind. +The car gathered speed rapidly. In less than an hour they were half-way +to Norwich. Then suddenly the driver took a sharp corner and turned down +a long desolate lane.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're off the main road," Duncombe explained. "You should have kept +straight on for Norwich."</p> + +<p>The man took no notice. He even increased his speed. Duncombe was in the +act of turning round when he felt the sudden swish of a wet cloth upon +his face. He tried to break away, but he was held from behind as in a +vise. Then his head fell back, and he remembered no more.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_Xa" id="CHAPTER_Xa"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h4>THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS</h4> + + +<p>At three o'clock in the morning Groves, in a discarded dressing-gown of +his master's, opened the front door and peered cautiously out into the +darkness. Monsieur Louis, who was standing upon the door-step, pushed +past him into the hall.</p> + +<p>"Your master has sent me back to fetch some papers," he announced, +displaying a bunch of keys. "I am sorry to disturb you like this, but +the matter is important. Please bring me a cup of coffee into the +library in half an hour."</p> + +<p>Groves, who was sorely perplexed, stood with his back to the door which +Monsieur Louis had approached.</p> + +<p>"Really, sir," he answered, "I scarcely know what to say. I am afraid +that I cannot allow you to interfere with any of my master's property in +his absence."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis held out the keys.</p> + +<p>"Quite right!" he said. "It is an awkward situation, of course. Your +master did not tell you the reason of his sudden departure, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word, sir."</p> + +<p>"There can be no harm in telling you this much, at any rate," Monsieur +Louis continued smoothly. "Your master, through no fault of his own, got +mixed up in a very unpleasant affair in Paris, and he will have to +appear in the courts there. I am his friend, and wish to do all that I +can to help him. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> have been talking the matter over, and I have +strongly advised him to produce some papers which I think will help him +materially. The police officer in whose charge he is would not allow him +to return, so he handed me his keys and asked me to fetch them. I can +assure you that I am your master's friend, and wish to do all that I can +to help him. If he had not trusted me he would not have given me his +keys, which no doubt you recognize."</p> + +<p>Groves reluctantly stood on one side.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must let you in, sir," he said, "but I wish that the master +had sent me a line."</p> + +<p>"We had neither pencil nor paper," Monsieur Louis said, "and the affair +was urgent. I must be back in Norwich by eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"I will prepare the coffee, sir," Groves said, turning away. "If you +require more light the switches are behind the door."</p> + +<p>"Very good," Monsieur Louis said. "You need not have the slightest +anxiety. I am here on your master's behalf."</p> + +<p>Groves hesitated, and looked for a moment curiously around the room. He +seemed as though he had something else to say, but checked himself at +the last moment and withdrew. Monsieur Louis drew a little breath of +relief.</p> + +<p>He did not immediately proceed to work. He threw off his overcoat and +lit a cigarette. His fingers were steady enough, but he was conscious of +an unwonted sense of excitement. He was face to face with destiny. He +had played before for great stakes, but never such as these. A single +false step, an evil turn in the wheel of fortune, spelt death—and he +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> afraid to die. He moved to the sideboard. Everything there was as +they had left it. He poured out some brandy and drank it off.</p> + +<p>With fresh courage he moved to the safe, which stood in the corner of +the room. It must be there, if anywhere, that this precious document +lay. He tried his keys one by one. At last he found the right one. The +great door swung slowly open.</p> + +<p>He was spared all anxiety. There, on the top of a pile of legal-looking +documents, leases, title-deeds, and the like, was a long envelope, and +across it in Duncombe's sprawling writing these few words:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Entrusted to me by Miss Poynton.—Sept. 4th."</p></div> + +<p>He grasped it in his fingers and tore open the envelope. As he read the +single page of closely written writing his eyes seemed almost to +protrude. He gave a little gasp. No wonder there were those who reckoned +this single page of manuscript worth a great fortune. Every sentence, +every word told its own story. It was a page of the world's history.</p> + +<p>Then a strange thing happened. Some part of him rebelled against the +instinct which prompted him carefully to fold and place in his +breast-pocket this wonderful find of his. His nerves seemed suddenly +frozen in his body. There was a curious numb sensation at the back of +his neck which forbade him to turn round. His hands shook, his teeth +chattered. The sweat of death was upon his forehead and despair in his +heart. He had heard nothing, seen nothing; yet he knew that he was no +longer alone.</p> + +<p>When at last he turned round he turned his whole body. The muscles of +his neck were numbed still his knees shook, and his face was ghastly. +Monsieur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> Louis of the Café Montmartre, brave of tongue and gallant of +bearing, had suddenly collapsed. Monsieur Louis, the drug-sodden +degenerate of a family whose nobles had made gay the scaffolds of the +Place de la République, cowered in his place.</p> + +<p>It was the worst upon which he looked with chattering teeth, but without +surprise. The door of the inner room was open, and upon the threshold +stood Toquet, small, dark, and saturnine—Toquet, with something which +glittered in his hand, so that Monsieur Louis, already the prey of a +diseased and ghastly imagination, felt the pain of the bullet in his +heart. On an easy-chair by the fireside Henri de Bergillac was lounging, +with a queer smile upon his lips.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said quietly, though the scorn which underlay his words +seemed to bite the air, "you have solved for us a double problem: first, +how to account for the absence of our host; and secondly, how to open +that very formidable-looking safe. You will be so good as to place upon +the table that document which you hold in your hands."</p> + +<p>For a single second Monsieur Louis hesitated. Some lingering vestige of +a courage, purely hereditary, showed him in one lightning-like flash how +at least he might carry with him to a swift grave some vestige of his +ruined self-respect. A traitor to his old friends, he might keep faith +with the new. He had time to destroy. Even the agonies of death might +last long enough to complete the task. But the impulse was only +momentary. He shuddered afresh at the thought that he might have yielded +to it. He threw it upon the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Vicomte rose to his feet, glanced through the closely written page +with something of the same excitement which had inspired its recent +possessor, and carefully buttoned it up in his breast-pocket. Then he +turned once more to the man who stood before them broken and trembling.</p> + +<p>"Louis," he said, "you are the first traitor whom our society has +hatched. I look upon you with curiosity as a thing I once called my +friend. What imbecility prompted you to this?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis found nerve to shrug his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"A million francs!" he answered.</p> + +<p>"Heavens, but what folly!" the Vicomte murmured. "Did we not all know +that a German was in Paris who offered a million, or two million francs +for the missing page of that treaty? Do you think that he was not +watched day and night? Bah! I have no patience to talk of this. What +have you done with our host?"</p> + +<p>"Arrested him for—Flossie! He is in a ditch half-way to Norwich."</p> + +<p>"Hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No! Chloroformed."</p> + +<p>"How did you get here?"</p> + +<p>"In an automobile from Lynn!"</p> + +<p>"Good! It waits for you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"We will take it. My good friend here, Toquet, is familiar with the +neighborhood. As Mr. Fielding, the American millionaire, you learned the +excellence of these roads for quick travelling, did you not, <i>mon ami</i>? +So!"</p> + +<p>"You leave me here?" Monsieur Louis faltered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ay, to rot if you will!" the Vicomte answered with sudden harshness.</p> + +<p>"I will atone," Monsieur Louis faltered. "It was a single false step."</p> + +<p>De Bergillac looked down upon him with unspeakable contempt.</p> + +<p>"Atone! Listen, Louis! In this country you are safe. Crawl away into +some hiding-place and make what you will of the rest of your days, but I +will promise you this. If ever you set your feet upon one inch of France +you shall meet with your deserts. There are many things which those who +play the great game must pardon, but there is one crime for which no +atonement is possible, and you have committed it. You are a traitor!"</p> + +<p>De Bergillac turned away. The effeminacy of his manner seemed to have +disappeared under the strain of his extreme anger. It was his race, +after all, which had asserted itself. And then the door was thrown +suddenly open and a wild-looking figure confronted them.</p> + +<p>It was Duncombe, muddy from head to foot, pale and with a slight wound +upon the temple, from which the blood had trickled down his face. He saw +the open safe, and Monsieur Louis a pitiful figure, and he did not +hesitate. He scarcely glanced at the others. He strode forward and +seized the Baron by the collar.</p> + +<p>"Give me back what you have stolen, you blackguard!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Louis was breathless. It was the young Vicomte who interposed.</p> + +<p>"Our friend," he remarked suavely, "has not been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> successful in his +little effort. The document he came to purloin is in my pocket, and +here, Sir George, is my warrant for retaining possession of it."</p> + +<p>He held out a note which Duncombe took and read with a little sigh of +relief.</p> + +<p>"Good!" he exclaimed. "You have the document?"</p> + +<p>De Bergillac tapped his breast-pocket.</p> + +<p>"It is here," he said.</p> + +<p>Duncombe turned to Monsieur Louis.</p> + +<p>"My arrest, then," he remarked, "was part of the game?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly!" De Bergillac answered. "This little document entrusted to +your care by the young English lady was worth one million francs to the +man who suborned our friend here. It was worth while—this little +enterprise. The pity of it is that it has failed. Sir George, I go to +Paris to-night. I offer you a safe conduct if you care to accompany me. +<i>L'affaire Poynton</i> does not exist any more."</p> + +<p>"Can you give me ten minutes to change my clothes?" Duncombe asked +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No more," De Bergillac answered. "I will get rid of our friend here."</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door. Groves entered with coffee. At the sight +of his master he nearly dropped the tray.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," Duncombe said, smiling. "We had a little spill, and +I've lost my bag. Pack me some more things quickly."</p> + +<p>"Very good, sir," Groves answered, and withdrew precipitately.</p> + +<p>De Bergillac laid his hand upon Duncombe's arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is only one thing, my friend," he said. "I trust that it is Mr. +Guy Poynton who is your friend, and not his beautiful sister? Eh? I am +answered! The misfortune! Never mind! I will drink my coffee to <i>les +beaux yeux des autres</i>!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIa" id="CHAPTER_XIa"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h4>THE MAKING OF HISTORY</h4> + + +<p>Three men were the sole occupants of the great room whose windows looked +out upon the Louvre.</p> + +<p>The table around which they were seated was strewn with papers and maps. +The door of the room was locked, and a sentry stood outside in the +passage. The three men were busy making history.</p> + +<p>The man who occupied the seat at the head of the table was the Monsieur +Grisson to whom Guy Poynton, at the instigation of the Duc de Bergillac, +had told his story. It was he who was spokesman.</p> + +<p>"The situation," he said, "is one which bristles with difficulties. We +will assume for a moment the truth of what we have certainly reasonable +ground to believe. Russia has shown every sign of disappointment with us +for our general attitude during the war. Our understanding with England +has provoked a vigorous though unofficial protest from her +representatives here. Since then our relations have become to a certain +extent strained. Germany, ever on the look-out for complications which +might lead to her own advantage, steps in. Her attitude towards Russia +is changed to one of open and profound sympathy. Russia, in her +desperate straits, rises like a starving fish to a fat fly. Here it is +that our secret service steps in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Our secret service—and her allies," one of the other men murmured.</p> + +<p>"Exactly! We pass now to the consideration of facts which need one thing +only to justify our course of action. Evidence is brought to us that a +secret meeting took place between the Czar of Russia and the Emperor of +Germany. From all the information which we have collected that meeting +was possible. I personally believe that it took place. A treaty is said +to have been drawn up between them, having for its object the +embroilment of England with Russia, and an alliance of Germany with +Russia so far as regards her quarrel with England. We know that Germany +is secretly mobilizing men and ships. We know that the ambition of the +Emperor is to possess himself of the Colonies of Great Britain, if not +actually to hold his court in London. We know that his jealousy of King +Edward amounts to a disease. We know that he is a man of daring and +violent temper, with an indomitable will and an unflinching belief in +his own infallibility and the infallibility of his army and navy. We +know that he has at least a dozen schemes for a sudden attack upon +England, and mighty though the navy of Great Britain is, it is not in +our opinion strong enough to protect her shore from the combined Baltic +and German fleets and also protect her Colonies. England, through our +friendship, has been warned. She proposes with most flattering alacrity +the only possible counter-stroke—an alliance with ourselves. We must +decide within twelve hours. The treaty lies upon my desk there. Upon us +must rest the most momentous decision which any Frenchman within our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +recollection has been called upon to make. What have you to say, +gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. Then the man who sat at Monsieur Grisson's +right hand spoke.</p> + +<p>"The issues before us," he said slowly, "are appalling. Every +Frenchman's blood must boil at the thought of Germany greedily helping +herself to the mighty wealth and power of Great Britain—becoming by +this single master-stroke the strongest nation on earth, able to dictate +even to us, and to send her word unchallenged throughout the world. It +is a hideous picture! It must mean the abandonment forever of the hope +of every true Frenchman. Every minute will become a menace to us. +Wilhelm, the arrogant, with British gold and British ships at his back, +will never forget to flaunt himself before us to our eternal +humiliation."</p> + +<p>"You are taking it for granted," his neighbor remarked, "that Germany +will be successful."</p> + +<p>"The odds are in her favor," was the quiet reply. "The navy of Great +Britain is immense, but her sea front, so to speak, is enormous. She is +open to be the prey of a sudden swift attack, and the moment has never +been more favorable."</p> + +<p>"Let all these things be granted," the third man said. "Even then, are +we free to enter into this alliance with England? Our treaty with Russia +remains. We have no proof that she has broken faith with us. If this +secret treaty between Russia and Germany really exists, it is, of +course, another matter. But does it? We have nothing but the word of an +English boy. The rest is all assumption. The whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> affair might be a +nightmare. We might sign this treaty with England, and find afterwards +that we had been the victim of a trick. We should be perjured before the +face of all Europe, and our great financial interest in Russia would at +once be placed in a perilous position."</p> + +<p>A telephone upon the table rang softly. Monsieur Grisson held the +receiver to his ear and listened. Then he rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Count von Munchen desires a word with me," he announced. "He pledges +himself not to keep me more than five minutes. I had better receive him. +Excuse me, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>The two men were left alone. The elder and stouter of the two busied +himself with an inch rule and an atlas. He seemed to be making +calculations as to the distance between Cherbourg and a certain spot in +the North Sea.</p> + +<p>"What is the chief's own mind?" his companion asked. "Does any one +know?"</p> + +<p>The other shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Who can say? Our ties of friendship with England are too recent to make +this a matter of sentiment. I believe that without proof he fears to +accept this statement. And yet above all things he fears Germany. There +was some talk of a missing page of the actual treaty between Russia and +Germany. If this could be found I believe that he would sign the draft +treaty."</p> + +<p>"I myself," the other said, "do not believe that England would be so +easily overpowered."</p> + +<p>"It is the suddenness and treachery of the attack which counts so +greatly in its favor," his companion said. "It might be all over in two +days before she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> could assemble a fifth part of her forces. If our +information is correct Germany has men enough mobilized to run huge +risks. Besides, you know how Lafarge's report ran, and what he said. The +German army is beginning to suffer from a sort of dry rot, as must all +institutions which fulfil a different purpose than that for which they +exist. The Emperor knows it. If war does not come Germany will have to +face severe military troubles."</p> + +<p>"I myself am for the alliance!"</p> + +<p>"And I," the other replied, "if proof of this Germano-Russian +understanding could be produced."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson returned. He carefully closed and locked the door +behind him.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "the German Ambassador has just left me. His +mission in every way confirms our secret information. He has been +instructed to inquire as to our attitude in the event of any British +interference with the Baltic Fleet while in home waters."</p> + +<p>The two men looked up expectantly. Monsieur Grisson continued:—</p> + +<p>"I replied that it was a contingency which we scarcely thought it worth +while to consider. I expressed my firm belief that England would observe +all the conventions, written and understood, of international law."</p> + +<p>"And he?"</p> + +<p>"He was not satisfied, of course. He declared that he had certain +information that England was making definite plans with a view to ensure +the delay of the fleet. He went on to say that Germany was determined +not to tolerate any such thing, and he concludes that we, as Russia's +ally, would at any rate remain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> neutral should Germany think it her duty +to interfere."</p> + +<p>"And your reply?"</p> + +<p>"I answered that in the event of untoward happenings France would act as +her honor dictated—remaining always mindful of the obligations of her +alliance. He was quite satisfied."</p> + +<p>"He had no suspicion of this?" the young man asked, touching the treaty +with his forefinger.</p> + +<p>"None. It is believed in Germany that the young Englishman was really +found drowned in the Seine after a short career of dissipation. Our +friends served us well here. Now, gentlemen, the English Ambassador will +be here in twenty minutes. What am I to say to him? Do we sign this +draft agreement or do we not?"</p> + +<p>There was a silence which lasted nearly a minute. Then the younger of +the two men spoke.</p> + +<p>"Sir," he said respectfully, "without some proof of Russia's falsity I +cannot see how in honor we can depart from our treaty obligations with +her to the extent of signing an agreement with her putative enemy. +England must fight her own battle, and God help her!"</p> + +<p>"And you?" Monsieur Grisson asked, turning to the third man.</p> + +<p>"I agree," was the regretful answer. "If this treacherous scheme is +carried out I believe that France will be face to face with the greatest +crisis she has known in history. Even then I dare not suggest that we +court dishonor by breaking an alliance with a friend in distress."</p> + +<p>"You are right, gentlemen," Monsieur Grisson said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> with a sigh. "We must +tell Lord Fothergill that our relations with his country must remain +unfettered. I<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>Again the telephone bell rang. Monsieur Grisson listened, and replied +with a sudden return to his old briskness of manner.</p> + +<p>"It is young De Bergillac," he announced. "He has been in England in +search of that missing page of the treaty. I have told them to show him +in."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte entered, paler than ever from recent travel, and deeply +humiliated from the fact that there was a smut upon his collar which he +had had no time to remove. He presented a paper to Monsieur Grisson and +bowed. The President spread it out upon the table, and the faces of the +three men as they read became a study. Monsieur Grisson rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Duc de Bergillac and a young English gentleman," he told +the attendant, "are in my private retiring-room. Desire their presence."</p> + +<p>The servant withdrew. The three men looked at one another.</p> + +<p>"If this is genuine!" the younger murmured.</p> + +<p>"It is the Russian official paper," his <i>vis-à-vis</i> declared, holding it +up to the light.</p> + +<p>Then the Duc de Bergillac and Guy Poynton were ushered in. Monsieur +Grisson rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Poynton," he said, "we have all three heard your story as to +what you witnessed in the forest of Pozen. It is part of your allegation +that a page of writing from the private car which you were watching was +blown to your feet, and that you picked it up and brought it to Paris +with you. Look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> at this sheet of paper carefully. Tell me if it is the +one."</p> + +<p>Guy glanced at it for a moment, and handed it back.</p> + +<p>"It is certainly the one," he answered. "If you look at the back you +will see my initials there and the date."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson turned it over quickly. The two other men looked over +his shoulder, and one of them gave a little exclamation. The initials +and date were there.</p> + +<p>Then Monsieur Grisson turned once more to Guy. He was not a tall man, +but he had dignity, and his presence was impressive. He spoke very +slowly.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Guy Poynton," he said, "it is not often that so great an +issue—that the very destinies of two great countries must rest upon the +simple and uncorroborated story of one man. Yet that is the position in +which we stand to-day. Do not think that you are being treated with +distrust. I speak to you not on behalf of myself, but for the millions +of human beings whose welfare is my care, and for those other millions +of your own countrymen, whose interests must be yours. I ask you +solemnly—is this story of yours word for word a true one?"</p> + +<p>Guy looked him in the face resolutely, and answered without hesitation.</p> + +<p>"On my honor as an Englishman," he declared, "it is true!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" he said.</p> + +<p>The three men were again alone. The man who controlled the destinies of +France dipped his pen in the ink.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "do you agree with me that I shall sign this +draft?"</p> + +<p>"We do!" they both answered.</p> + +<p>The President signed his name. Then he turned the handle of the +telephone.</p> + +<p>"You may show Lord Fothergill in!" he ordered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIIa" id="CHAPTER_XIIa"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h4>AN OLD FRIEND</h4> + + +<p>It was perhaps as well for Andrew Pelham that he could not see Phyllis' +look as she entered the room. An English gentleman, she had been told, +was waiting to see her, and she had thought of no one but Duncombe. It +was true that she had sent him away, but only an hour ago the Marquise +had told her that her emancipation was close at hand. He too might have +had a hint! The little smile, however, died away from her lips as she +saw who was waiting for her with such manifest impatience.</p> + +<p>"You, Andrew!" she exclaimed in amazement. "Why, however did you find me +out?"</p> + +<p>He took both her hands in his. The look upon his face was transfiguring.</p> + +<p>"At last! At last!" he exclaimed. "Never mind how I found you! Tell me, +what does it all mean? Are you here of your own free will?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely!" she answered.</p> + +<p>"It was you at Runton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Under a false name—with a man who committed robbery!"</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders a little wearily.</p> + +<p>"My dear Andrew!" she said, "I will admit that I have been doing all +manner of incomprehensible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> things. I couldn't explain everything. It +would take too long. What I did, I did for Guy's sake, and of my own +free will. It will be all over in a day or two now, and we shall be +coming back to Raynesworth. Then I will tell you tales of our adventures +which will make your hair stand on end."</p> + +<p>"It isn't true about Guy, then?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Andrew," she said, "I cannot tell you anything. It must sound rather +horrid of me, but I cannot help it. I want you to go away. In a day or +two I will write."</p> + +<p>He looked at her in pained bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"But, Phyllis," he protested, "I am one of your oldest friends! You ask +me to go away and leave you here with strangers, without a word of +explanation. Why, I have been weeks searching for you."</p> + +<p>"Andrew," she said, "I know it. I don't want to be unkind. I don't want +you to think that I have forgotten that you are, as you say, one of my +oldest friends. But there are times when one's friends are a source of +danger rather than pleasure. Frankly, this is one of them."</p> + +<p>His face darkened. He looked slowly around the magnificent room. He saw +little, but what he could distinguish was impressive.</p> + +<p>"Your riddles," he said gravely, "are hard to read. You want me to go +away and leave you here."</p> + +<p>"You must," she said firmly.</p> + +<p>"Did you treat Duncombe like this?" he asked in a blind fit of jealousy.</p> + +<p>"You have not the right to ask me such a question," she answered +coldly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not the right! Not the right!" he repeated. "Who else has, then? +Haven't I watched you grow from a beautiful, capricious child into the +woman you are? Haven't I taught you, played with you, done your bidding +blindly ever since you came into your kingdom? Haven't I felt the pain +and the joy of you in my heart? Who else has a better right, then? +Duncombe, who came here, a stranger to you—or is it one of your new +friends?"</p> + +<p>She came close to him, and laid her hand upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't be foolish, Andrew!" she said softly.</p> + +<p>His whole expression changed. The bitterness left his tone.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Phyllis!" he said. "That is more like yourself."</p> + +<p>"And I want you," she said, "to be like your old self. You have always +been my best friend, Andrew. I hope you will always be that."</p> + +<p>He tried to look into her face. It seemed to him that there was a little +unnecessary emphasis in her words.</p> + +<p>"I am not a child now, you know," she continued. "I am quite old enough +to take care of myself. You must believe that, Andrew. You must go away, +and not worry about me. You will do this, please, because I ask you!"</p> + +<p>"If I must," he said reluctantly. "I will go away, but not to worry +about you—that is impossible. You seem to be surrounded by all the +mediæval terrors which confronted the emancipation of princesses in our +fairy books. Only a short time ago Duncombe implored me to follow his +example, and leave you and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> Paris alone. The detective whom I brought +with me has been shadowed ever since we left Paris. Last night he left +me for a few hours, and this morning comes a note from the hospital. He +is lying there with the back of his head beaten in—garotters, of +course, the police say, looking for plunder. How can you ask me to be +easy in my mind about you?"</p> + +<p>She smiled reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"No harm will come to me here, I can promise you," she said. "It is you +who run the most risk if you only knew it. Sir George Duncombe gave you +the best advice when he tried to get you to return to England."</p> + +<p>"I cannot leave Lloyd now until he has recovered," Andrew answered. +"Tell me, Phyllis, has Duncombe found you out? Has he been here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered. "I sent him away—as I am sending you."</p> + +<p>"Has he ever told you," Andrew asked, "why he was willing in the first +instance to come to Paris in search of you?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered. "Wasn't it because he was your friend?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is his affair, not mine," he said with a sigh. "Ask him some day."</p> + +<p>"You won't tell me, Andrew?"</p> + +<p>"No! I will go now! You know where to send for me if you should need +help. I can find my way down, thank you. I have a guide from the hotel +outside."</p> + +<p>The Marquise swept into the room as he passed out, an impression of +ermine and laces and perfume.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Another of your English lovers, <i>ma belle</i>?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Scarcely that," Phyllis answered. "He is a very old friend, and he was +rather hard to get rid of."</p> + +<p>"I think," the Marquise said, "you would get rid of all very willingly +for the sake of one, eh?"</p> + +<p>The Marquise stared insolently into the girl's face. Phyllis only +laughed.</p> + +<p>"One is usually considered the ideal number—in our country," she +remarked demurely.</p> + +<p>"But the one?" the Marquise continued. "He would not be one of these +cold, heavy countrymen of yours, no? You have learnt better perhaps over +here?"</p> + +<p>It was a cross-examination, but Phyllis could not imagine its drift.</p> + +<p>"I have not had very much opportunity over here, have I, to amend my +ideals?" she asked. "I think the only two Frenchmen I have met are the +Marquis and that languid young man with the green tie, the Vicomte de +Bergillac, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>The Marquise watched her charge closely.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "he is <i>comme il faut</i>, is he not? You find him more +elegant, more chic than your Englishmen, eh?"</p> + +<p>Phyllis shook her head regretfully.</p> + +<p>"To me," she admitted, "he seemed like an exceedingly precocious spoilt +child!"</p> + +<p>"He is twenty-three," the Marquise declared.</p> + +<p>Phyllis laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I do not think that I shall amend my ideals for the +sake of the Vicomte de Bergillac!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Marquise looked at her doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, child," she said, "you mean, then, that of the two—your +English Sir George Duncombe and Henri—you would prefer Sir George?"</p> + +<p>Phyllis looked at her with twinkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"You would really like to know?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Sir George Duncombe—infinitely!"</p> + +<p>The Marquise seemed to have recovered her good spirits.</p> + +<p>"Come, little one," she said, "you lose color in the house. I will take +you for a drive!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Andrew, conscious that he was being followed, sat down outside a café on +his way homewards, and bade his guide leave him for a little time. +Instantly there was the soft rustle of feminine skirts by his side, and +a woman seated herself on the next chair.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur has not been up to the Café Montmartre lately!"</p> + +<p>Pelham turned his head. It was the young lady from Vienna.</p> + +<p>"No!" he answered. "I have not been there since I had the pleasure of +seeing Mademoiselle!"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur has discovered all that he wanted to know?"</p> + +<p>He nodded a little wearily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so!"</p> + +<p>She drew her chair quite close to his. The sable of her turban hat +almost brushed his cheek, and the perfume of the violets at her bosom +was strong in his nostrils.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur has seen the young lady?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have seen her," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is indebted to me," she said softly, "for some information. +Let me ask him one question. Is it true, this story in the newspapers, +of the finding of this young man's body? Is Monsieur Guy Poynton really +dead?"</p> + +<p>"I know no more than we all read in the newspapers," he answered.</p> + +<p>"His sister spoke of him as dead?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot discuss this matter with you, Mademoiselle," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is ungrateful," she declared with a little grimace. "It is +only that which I desire to know. He was such a <i>beau garçon</i>, that +young Englishman. You will tell me that?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he said. "I am going to take a carriage +to my hotel!"</p> + +<p>"It is on the way to leave me at my rooms, if you will be so kind," she +suggested, laying her hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he answered, turning away. "Good +afternoon."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle also took a carriage, and drove to a large house at the top +of the Champs Élysées. She was at once admitted, and passed with the air +of one familiar with the place into a small room at the back of the +house, where a man was sitting at a table writing. He looked up as she +entered.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>She threw herself into a chair.</p> + +<p>"I have been following the Englishman, Pelham,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> all day," she said in +German. "He has seen Miss Poynton. I have talked with him since at a +café, but he would tell me nothing. He has evidently been warned."</p> + +<p>The man grumbled as he resumed his writing.</p> + +<p>"That fact alone should be enough for us," he remarked. "If there is +anything to conceal we can guess what it is. These amateurs who are in +league with the secret service are the devil! I would as soon resign. +What with them and the regular secret service, Paris is an impossible +city for us. Where we would watch we are watched ourselves. The streets +and cafés bristle with spies! I do not wonder that you find success so +difficult, Mademoiselle!"</p> + +<p>"I haven't done so badly!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"No, for you have not been set easy tasks. Can you tell me, though, +where that young Englishman disappeared to when he left the Café +Montmartre before your very eyes? Can you tell me whether the secret +service got hold of his story, how much the French Government believed +of it, whether they have communicated with the English Government, and +how much they know? Beyond these things, it is not your province to see, +or mine, Mademoiselle, and it is not for us to guess at or inquire into +the meaning of things. Tell me, is it worth while to have this man +Pelham put out of the way for a time?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I do not think so," she answered. "He is quite stupid. The other, Sir +George Duncombe, he was different. If he had stayed in Paris he would +have been worth watching."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> + +<p>A bell rang. The man rose.</p> + +<p>"The chief!" he said. "Be at the café to-night."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle went away thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"It is over this affair," she said to herself. "Carl knows everything!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIIIa" id="CHAPTER_XIIIa"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h4>A NEWSPAPER SENSATION</h4> + + +<p>Spencer, whose recovery during the last few days had been as rapid as +the first development of his indisposition, had just changed for dinner, +and was lighting a <i>cigarette d'appertit</i> when, without waiting to be +announced, the Vicomte de Bergillac entered the room. Spencer, with +lightning-like intuition, knew that his time was come.</p> + +<p>"Off with your coat, man, and get your code books out. I am going to +give you the most sensational story which has ever appeared in your +paper!" he exclaimed. "Only, remember this! It must appear to-morrow +morning. I am arranging for the French papers to have it. Yours shall be +the only English journal. Glance through these sheets. They contain the +story of <i>l'affaire Poynton</i>!"</p> + +<p>Spencer was master of the gist of the thing in a very few moments. His +eyes were bright with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Who guarantees this?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"My uncle has signed it," Henri de Bergillac answered, "and at the +bottom of the page there you will see a still more distinguished +signature. You understand <i>l'affaire Poynton</i> now? It is very simple. +That English boy actually witnessed a meeting between the Czar and the +Emperor, and turns up in Paris with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> loose sheet of a treaty between +the two, relative to an attack upon England. Our people got hold of him +at the Café Montmartre, and we have hidden him away ever since. Our +friends, the Germans, who seem to have had some suspicions about him, +have filled the city with spies, but from the first we have kept them +off the scent. We had a little difficulty in convincing our friends your +country-people, but we managed to borrow a few papers from the German +Ambassador whilst he was staying at a country-house in England, which +were sufficient."</p> + +<p>Spencer was already writing. His coat lay on the floor where he had +thrown it.</p> + +<p>"Don't go for a moment, De Bergillac," he said. "I want to ask you a few +things. I can talk and code at the same time. What about Miss Poynton?"</p> + +<p>"Well, we had to take care of her too," De Bergillac said. "Of course +all her inquiries over here would have led to nothing, but they knew her +at the English Embassy, so we walked her off from the Café Montmartre +one night and took her to a friend of mine, the Marquise de St. Ethol. +We told her a little of the truth, and a little, I'm afraid, which was +an exaggeration. Anyhow, we kept her quiet, and we got her to go to +England for us with Toquet. They had a very narrow shave down at Runton, +by the by."</p> + +<p>"After this," Spencer said with a smile, "the secret service people +proper will have to look to their laurels. It is a triumph for the +amateurs."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte twirled his tiny black moustache.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "we have justified ourselves. It has cost us something, +though!"</p> + +<p>"You mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Louis!"</p> + +<p>Spencer stopped writing.</p> + +<p>"It was an affair of a million francs," the Vicomte said. "I hope he has +got the money."</p> + +<p>Spencer resumed his work.</p> + +<p>"The Baron a traitor!" he exclaimed. "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"In England! We are not vindictive. If the Germans paid him a million +francs they got nothing for it. He has been watched from the first. We +knew of it the moment he came to terms with them. He only knows bare +facts. Nothing beyond. He is going to Brazil, I think. We shall not +interfere."</p> + +<p>"Tell me why," Spencer said, "you were so down on all of us who joined +in the search for the Poyntons."</p> + +<p>"We could not afford to run any risks of your discovering a clue," De +Bergillac answered, "because you in your turn were closely watched by +German spies, hoping to discover them through you. That is why we had to +strike hard at all of you who interfered. I was sorry for little +Flossie—but she knew the risk she ran. We had to stop you, induce +Duncombe to leave Paris, and knock on the head a fool of an English +detective for fear he might discover something. Monsieur Pelham was +getting into danger, but, of course, it is all over now. To-morrow we +are bringing Guy into Paris."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Where is Duncombe?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Back in Paris," De Bergillac answered. "Arrived here with me to-day. He +is much in love with the beautiful sister. Alas! It was to him that she +entrusted the missing page of that treaty which she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> found in her +brother's luggage. Some day I must tell you of my adventures in England +last night, when I went over to get it and found Louis a little ahead of +me."</p> + +<p>"Some day," Spencer murmured, writing for dear life, with the +perspiration streaming down his forehead. "My dear Vicomte, do you mind +ringing the bell? I want my servant. I must telegraph my paper to warn +them of this. They must clear two columns of type for me."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte did as he was asked. Then he turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I will leave you," he said. "The dust of England is still in my throat. +Absinthe, a bath and dinner! <i>Au revoir, mon ami!</i> Confess that I have +kept the promise which Louis made you. It is what you call a <i>coup</i> +this, eh?"</p> + +<p>Out on the boulevards the papers were selling like wildfire. The Vicomte +bought one, and sitting down outside a café ordered absinthe. The great +headlines attracted him at once. He sipped his absinthe and smiled to +himself.</p> + +<p>"The play commences!" he murmured. "I must return to Monsieur Spencer."</p> + +<p>Spencer was still working like a madman.</p> + +<p>"I must interrupt you for a moment," De Bergillac said. "I have brought +you an evening paper. The Baltic Fleet has sunk half a dozen English +fishing-boats and the whole country is in a frenzy. It is the +beginning."</p> + +<p>Spencer nodded.</p> + +<p>"Leave the paper, there's a good fellow," he said. "I will look it +through presently. If there is time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>—if there is only time this will be +the greatest night of my life. No other paper has a hint, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Not one!"</p> + +<p>"If I could put back the clock a single hour," Spencer muttered. "Never +mind! Williams, more sheets!"</p> + +<p>De Bergillac took his leave. He had telephoned for his motor, which was +waiting outside. He gave the order to drive to his rooms. On the way he +passed the great pile of buildings in the Louvre. In a room at the +extreme end of the pile a light was burning. De Bergillac looked at it +curiously. A small brougham, which he recognized, stood outside.</p> + +<p>"If one could see inside," he muttered. "It should be interesting!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In a sense it was interesting. Monsieur Grisson sat there in front of +his open table. His secretary's place by his side was vacant. Opposite +sat a tall man with gray hair and dark moustache. He was dressed for the +evening, and his breast glittered with stars and orders.</p> + +<p>"It is exceedingly kind of you, Monsieur," he said, "to grant me this +interview at so short notice. I was most anxious to apprise you of news, +which as yet I believe has not found its way into your papers. You have +read accounts of a Russian attack upon an English fishing-fleet, but you +have not yet been informed of the presence—the undoubted presence—of +Japanese torpedo-boats concealed amongst them."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Indeed no!" he answered. "We have not even heard a rumor of anything of +the sort."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, their presence was indubitable," the Prince declared. "In +those circumstances, Monsieur, you can doubtless understand that our +reply to any protests on the part of England will be of an unpacific +nature. We should not for a moment allow ourselves to be dictated to by +the allies of our enemy."</p> + +<p>"Naturally!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "On the other hand, you surely +do not wish to embroil yourself in a quarrel with England at the present +moment?"</p> + +<p>"We wish to quarrel with no one," the Prince answered haughtily. "At the +same time, we are not afraid of England. We recognize the fact that if +war should come it is an independent affair, and does not come under the +obligations of our alliance. We ask, therefore, for your neutrality +alone."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson bowed.</p> + +<p>"But, Prince," he said gravely, "you speak lightly enough of the +possibilities of war, but surely you must know that the English fleet in +the Channel and at Gibraltar altogether outmatches the Baltic Fleet?"</p> + +<p>"A Russian," the Prince answered grandly, "is not afraid of great odds!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson bowed.</p> + +<p>"For the sake of humanity," he said, "I trust most sincerely that the +affair may be peaceably arranged. If the contrary should turn out to be +the case, I can only say that in a quarrel which concerns Russia and +England alone, France would remain benevolently neutral. As you have +remarked, the obligations of our treaty do not apply to such a case."</p> + +<p>The Prince played nervously with the star at his chest. Both men were +well aware that up to now they had been merely playing with words.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is another contingency," the Russian remarked, "which, now we are +upon the subject, it would perhaps be as well to allude to. The +relations between Germany and England, as you know, just now are very +sorely strained. If Germany should take advantage of the present +situation to make a demonstration against England, that, of course, +would not, from your point of view, affect the situation?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson looked like a man who sees before him amazing things.</p> + +<p>"My dear Prince," he said, "do not let us misunderstand one another. You +cannot by any possibility be suggesting that Germany might associate +herself with you in your resistance to possible English demands?"</p> + +<p>The Russian leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Germany is on the spot," he remarked, "and knows the fact of the case. +She has proofs of the presence of Japanese torpedo-boats amongst the +English fishing-fleet. Her natural love of fair play might possibly lead +her to espouse our cause in this particular instance. This, of course, +would make for peace. If Germany commands, England will obey. She could +not do otherwise."</p> + +<p>"You have introduced, my dear Prince," Monsieur Grisson said, "an +altogether new phase of this question, and one which merits the most +grave consideration. Am I to understand that there is any arrangement +between Germany and yourself with respect to this question?"</p> + +<p>"Scarcely anything so definite as an arrangement," the Prince answered. +"Merely an understanding!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson had the air of a man who had just received grave +tidings of his dearest friend.</p> + +<p>"Is this, Monsieur le Prince," he said, "entirely in accord with our own +treaty obligations?"</p> + +<p>"We do not consider it to be in contravention to them," the Prince +answered.</p> + +<p>The gravity of Monsieur Grisson's manner grew even more pronounced.</p> + +<p>"My dear Prince," he said, "you are doubtless aware that during the last +few weeks there have been some very strange rumors about as to a meeting +between your master and the Emperor of Germany, and an agreement which +was forthwith signed between them. I need not remark that all such +rumors were entirely discredited here. Such a meeting kept secret from +us would of course be very seriously considered here."</p> + +<p>The Prince smiled. He remained admirably self-possessed, though the very +veins in his forehead were swollen with anger.</p> + +<p>"A canard of the sort has reached my ears," he remarked. "Some English +boy, I believe, imagined or dreamed that he saw some such meeting. We +scarcely need, I think, to discuss this seriously."</p> + +<p>"Personally I agree with you," Monsieur Grisson said smoothly. "My +ministry, however, seem to have been a little impressed by the boy's +story. An autograph letter from the Czar, denying it, would perhaps make +our negotiations more easy."</p> + +<p>"It shall be forthcoming," the Prince remarked, rising. "By the by, I +hear reports of great activity from Cherbourg. More manœuvres, eh?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson shrugged his shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Our new naval chief," he remarked, "is a marvel of industry. You know +the English proverb about the new broom, eh?"</p> + +<p>The Prince bowed.</p> + +<p>"During the next few hours," he remarked, "many things may happen. You +will be always accessible?"</p> + +<p>"I shall not leave my post, Prince!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "You +will find me here at any time!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIVa" id="CHAPTER_XIVa"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<h4>THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY</h4> + + +<p>On the following morning the inhabitants of London, Paris, Berlin, and +St. Petersburg for a sum varying from a halfpenny to a penny were +treated to sensationalism as thrilling as any six-shilling shocker hot +from the press and assured of its half-million circulation. One English +and one French newspaper outdid their competitors by publishing side by +side with their account of the exploits of the Russian fleet a +marvellous but circumstantial story of a meeting and alliance between +the rulers of Germany and Russia. The eyes of the whole world were +turned towards Kiel, and more wonderful rumors still flashed backwards +and forwards along the wires throughout Europe. A great mobilization can +be kept secret up to a certain point, but when men and ships are +collected and ready the truth must out.</p> + +<p>At an unusually early hour Monsieur Grisson, supported now by two +members of his ministry, received a visit from the Russian and German +Ambassadors, Prince Korndoff and Count von Munchen. The usual +compliments were quickly exchanged.</p> + +<p>"I have asked my friend Count von Munchen to accompany me," Prince +Korndoff explained, "because we are here to speak with you on a matter +concerning which our interests are identical. You have read the demands +which England has dared to lay before my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> master with reference to the +encounter in the North Sea."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson bowed.</p> + +<p>"I have studied them with great interest," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"I do not need tell you then that they are scouted with indignation by +my master and his advisers," the Prince answered. "Neither shall we +permit for a single moment the detention of our fleet upon its mission."</p> + +<p>"That means, then, war with England," Monsieur Grisson remarked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Unless they instantly withdraw their insolent demands—undoubtedly," +the Prince answered.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson turned to the German.</p> + +<p>"And you, Count," he asked, "how does this concern you?"</p> + +<p>"We also," the Count answered, "consider the demands of England +unwarrantable. We believe that there were undoubtedly Japanese torpedo +boats concealed amongst the English fishing fleet, and we consider that +the action of the Admiral in command of the Russian fleet was fully +justified."</p> + +<p>"You are prepared, then, to give Russia your moral support?" the +President asked.</p> + +<p>"We are prepared to do more," the Count answered boldly. "If England +persists in her demands we are prepared to demonstrate against her."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson assumed a very grave expression.</p> + +<p>"I too," he said, "have lost no time in endeavoring to solve the mystery +of this North Sea incident. I have been in communication with the +English Ambassador, and I have collected all the evidence possible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +There is absolutely no proof obtainable of the presence of any Japanese +craft amongst the English fishing fleet. I submit, therefore, that this +is a case for arbitration. I consider that up to the present our friends +on the other side of the Channel have displayed commendable moderation +in a time of great excitement, and I am happy to say that I have the +authority of Lord Fothergill himself for saying that they will consent +to submitting the affair to a commission of arbitration."</p> + +<p>The President's words were received with chilling silence. It was the +Prince, who, after a short silence, replied.</p> + +<p>"Arbitration," he said coldly, "does not commend itself to us. We have +been insulted. Our country and our gallant fleet have been held up to +ridicule throughout the whole English Press. We are tired of being +dictated to and bullied by a weaker Power—the openly declared ally of +our enemy. England has long been seeking for a <i>casus belli</i> with us. At +last she has found it."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson whispered for a moment to one of his colleagues. Then +he turned once more to the Prince.</p> + +<p>"Let us understand one another, Monsieur le Prince!" he said, "and you, +Count von Munchen! You have come to announce to me your intention to +jointly make war upon England. St. Petersburg is to refuse her demands, +England will naturally strike at the Baltic Fleet, and Germany will send +her fleet to the rescue, and at the same time land troops somewhere in +the North of England. Russia, I presume, will withdraw her troops from +Manchuria and strike at India!"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" Count von Munchen protested. "I can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> assure you, Monsieur, it +is not our intention to land a single German soldier in England. We are +interested only to see fair play to Russia. We require that the Baltic +Fleet shall be allowed to go on its way without molestation."</p> + +<p>The President faced the last speaker. His gray bushy eyebrows met in a +frown.</p> + +<p>"Then what, Count," he asked, "is the meaning of the mobilization of two +hundred thousand men at Kiel? What is the meaning of your State +railroads running west being closed last night to all public traffic? +Why have you cabled huge orders for Government supplies? Why were you +running trains all last night to the coast? Do you suppose that our +secret service slumbers—that we are a nation of babies?"</p> + +<p>The Count made an effort to retain his composure.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Président," he said, "the reports which have reached you +have been much exaggerated. It is necessary for us to back up our +protests to England by a show of force!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Grisson smiled.</p> + +<p>"Enough of this, gentlemen!" he said. "We will now talk to one another +as men who have weighty affairs to deal with simply and directly. The +story of the meeting between your two rulers which you, Prince Korndoff, +have alluded to as a fairy tale, was a perfectly true one. I have known +of that meeting some time, and I have certain proof of what transpired +at it. The North Sea incident was no chance affair. It was a +deliberately and skilfully arranged <i>casus belli</i>, although your +admiral, Prince Korndoff, had to go one hundred miles out of his way to +find the Dogger Bank fishing-fleet. You spoke to me last night of +Cherbourg,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> Prince. I think that after all your secret service is +scarcely so successful as mine, for I can assure you that you will find +there all that is to be found to-day at Kiel."</p> + +<p>The Prince was amazed.</p> + +<p>"But, Monsieur le Président," he exclaimed, "you cannot mean—you, our +ally<span class="ohdash">—</span>—"</p> + +<p>The President extended a forefinger.</p> + +<p>"It was no part of our alliance," he said sternly, "that you should make +a secret treaty with another Power and keep hidden from us no less a +scheme than the invasion of England. My Cabinet have dealt with this +matter on its own merits. I have the honor to tell you, gentlemen, that +I have concluded an alliance with England to come into effect in the +case of your carrying out your present intention. For every army corps +you succeed in landing in England I too shall land one, only, I think, +with less difficulty, and for every German ship which clears for action +in the North Sea two French ones will be prepared to meet her."</p> + +<p>"I think, Monsieur le Président," he said stiffly, "that this discussion +had better be postponed until after I have had an opportunity of +communicating with my Imperial master. I must confess, sir, that your +attitude is a complete surprise to me."</p> + +<p>"As you will, sir," the President answered. "I am perhaps more a man of +affairs than a diplomatist, and I have spoken to you with less reserve +than is altogether customary. But I shall never believe that diplomacy +which chooses the dark and tortuous ways of intrigue and +misrepresentation is best calculated to uphold and strengthen the +destinies of a great nation. I wish you good morning, gentlemen!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p><hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>For forty-eight hours the war fever raged, and the pendulum swung +backwards and forwards. The cables between Berlin and St. Petersburg +were never idle. There was a rumor, amongst those behind the scenes, of +an enormous bribe offered to France in return for her neutrality alone. +Its instantaneous and scornful refusal practically brought the crisis to +an end. The German hosts melted away, and the Baltic Fleet passed on. +St. Petersburg accepted the British demands, and a commission of +arbitration was appointed. Henri de Bergillac read out the news from the +morning paper, and yawned.</p> + +<p>"<i>C'est fini—l'affaire Poynton!</i>" he remarked. "You can get ready as +soon as you like, Guy. I am going to take you into Paris to your +sister!"</p> + +<p>Guy looked up eagerly.</p> + +<p>"My pardon?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The Vicomte made a wry face.</p> + +<p>"Heavens!" he exclaimed, "I forgot that there were still explanations to +make. Fill your abominable pipe, <i>mon ami</i>, and think that to-morrow or +the next day you may be in your beloved England. Think how well we have +guarded you here when a dozen men were loose in Paris who would have +killed you on sight. Remember that in the underground history of England +you will be known always as the man who saved his country. I shouldn't +wonder in the least if you weren't decorated when you get home. Think of +all these things—hard!"</p> + +<p>"All right!" Guy answered. "Go ahead!"</p> + +<p>"You never killed any one. The duel was a fake. You were—not exactly +sober. That was entirely our fault, and we had to invent some plan to +induce you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> to come into hiding peacefully. <i>Voilà tout!</i> It is +forgiven?"</p> + +<p>Guy laughed a great laugh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Rather!" he exclaimed. "What an ass I must have seemed, asking that old +Johnny for a pardon."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte smiled.</p> + +<p>"The old Johnny, Guy, was the President of France. He wanted to know +afterwards what the devil you meant."</p> + +<p>Guy rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"If you tell me anything else," he said, "I shall want to punch your +head."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte laughed.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "I will return you to your adorable sister!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVa" id="CHAPTER_XVa"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<h4>A MERRY MEETING</h4> + + +<p>Monsieur Albert was not often surprised, and still less often did he +show it. The party, however, who trooped cheerily into his little +restaurant at something after midnight on this particular morning, +succeeded in placing him at a disadvantage.</p> + +<p>First there was the Vicomte de Bergillac, one of his most important and +influential patrons for many reasons, whose presence alone was more than +sufficient guarantee for whoever might follow. Then there was the +Marquise de St. Ethol, one of the <i>haute noblesse</i>, to welcome whom was +a surpassing honor.</p> + +<p>And then Monsieur Guy Poynton, the young English gentleman, whose single +appearance here a few weeks back had started all the undercurrents of +political intrigue, and who for the justification of French journalism +should at that moment have been slowly dying at the Morgue.</p> + +<p>And with him the beautiful young English lady who had come in search of +him, and who, as she had left the place in the small hours of the +morning with Monsieur Louis, should certainly not now have reappeared as +charming and as brilliant as ever, her eyes soft with happiness, and her +laugh making music more wonderful than the violins of his little +orchestra.</p> + +<p>And following her the broad-shouldered young Englishman, Sir George +Duncombe, who had once enter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>tained a very dangerous little party in his +private room upstairs, and against whom the dictum had gone forth.</p> + +<p>And following him the Englishman with the heavy glasses, whom <i>l'affaire +Poynton</i> had also brought before to his café, and with whom Mademoiselle +from Austria had talked long and earnestly.</p> + +<p>And lastly Monsieur Spencer, the English journalist, also with a black +cross after his name, but seemingly altogether unconscious of it.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Albert was not altogether at his best. Such a mixture of sheep +and goats confused him. It was the Vicomte who, together with the head +waiter, arranged a redistribution of tables so that the whole party +could sit together. It was the Vicomte who constituted himself host. He +summoned Monsieur Albert to him.</p> + +<p>"Albert," he said, with a little wave of the hand, "these ladies and +gentlemen are my friends. To quote the words of my charming young +companion here, Monsieur Guy Poynton, whom you may possibly +remember"—Monsieur Albert bowed—"we are on the bust! I do not know the +precise significance of the phrase any more than I suppose you do, but +it means amongst other things a desire for the best you have to eat and +to drink. Bring Pomeroy '92, Albert, and send word to your chef that we +desire to eat without being hungry!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Albert hurried away, glad of the opportunity to escape. Guy +leaned back in his chair and looked around with interest.</p> + +<p>"Same old place," he remarked, "and by Jove, there's the young lady from +Austria."</p> + +<p>The young lady from Austria paid her bill and departed somewhat hastily. +The Vicomte smiled.</p> + +<p>"I think we shall frighten a few of them away to-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>night!" he remarked. +"The wine! Good! We shall need magnums to drown our regrets, if indeed +our English friends desert us to-morrow. Monsieur Guy Poynton, +unconscious maker of history and savior of your country, I congratulate +you upon your whole skin, and I drink your health."</p> + +<p>Guy drank, and, laughing, refilled his glass.</p> + +<p>"And to you, the best of amateur conspirators and most charming of +hosts," he said. "Come soon to England and bring your automobile, and we +will conspire against you with a policeman and a stopwatch."</p> + +<p>The Vicomte sighed and glanced towards Phyllis.</p> + +<p>"In happier circumstances!" he murmured, and then catching the +Marquise's eye, he was silent.</p> + +<p>The band played English music, and the chef sent them up a wonderful +omelette. Mademoiselle Ermine, from the Folies Bergères, danced in the +small space between the tables, and the Vicomte, buying a cluster of +pink roses from the flower-girl, sent them across to her with a diamond +pin in the ribbon. The Marquise rebuked him half seriously, but he only +laughed.</p> + +<p>"To-night," he said, "is the end of a great adventure. We amateurs have +justified our existence. To-night I give away all that I choose. Ah, +Angèle!" he murmured, in her dainty little ear, "if I had but a heart to +give!"</p> + +<p>She flashed a quick smile into his face, but her forehead was wrinkled.</p> + +<p>"You have lost it to the young English miss. She is beautiful, but so +cold!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" he whispered. "Look!"</p> + +<p>Phyllis was seated next Duncombe, and he too was whispering something in +her ear. The look with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> which she answered him, told all that there was +to know. The Marquise, who had intercepted it, shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It is not worth while, my friend, that you break your heart," she +murmured, "for that one can see is an affair arranged."</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"After all," he said, "the true Frenchman loves only in his own +country."</p> + +<p>"Or in any other where he may chance to be," she answered drily. "Never +mind, Henri! I shall not let you wander very far. Your supper-party has +been delightful—but you see the time!"</p> + +<p>They trooped down the narrow stairs laughing and talking. Duncombe and +Phyllis came last, and their hands met for an instant behind the burly +commissionaire.</p> + +<p>"Until to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Until to-morrow," she echoed softly, as he handed her into the electric +<i>coupé</i>.</p> + +<p>Andrew and he drove down the hill together. Duncombe was a little ill at +ease.</p> + +<p>"There is one thing, Andrew," he said, "which I should like to say to +you. I want you to remember the night in your garden, when you asked me +to come to Paris for you."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I warned you, didn't I? I knew that it would come, and it has!"</p> + +<p>Andrew smiled in gentle scorn.</p> + +<p>"My dear Duncombe," he said, "why do you think it necessary to tell me a +thing so glaringly apparent? I have nothing to blame you for. It was a +foolish dream<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> of mine, which I shall easily outlive. For, George, this +has been a great day for me. I believe that my time for dreams has gone +by."</p> + +<p>Duncombe turned towards him with interest.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Andrew?"</p> + +<p>"I have been to see Foudroye, the great oculist. He has examined my eyes +carefully, and he assures me positively that my eyesight is completely +sound. In two months' time I shall see as well as any one!"</p> + +<p>Duncombe's voice shook with emotion. He grasped his friend's hand.</p> + +<p>"That is good—magnificent, Andrew!" he declared.</p> + +<p>Their carriage rattled over the cobbled stones as they crossed the +Square. The white mysterious dawn was breaking over Paris. Andrew threw +his head back with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Back into the world, George, where dreams are only the cobwebs of time, +and a man's work grows beneath his hands like a living statue to the +immortals. I feel my hands upon it, and the great winds blowing. Thank +God!"</p> + + +<h3>THE END</h3> +<p> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> +<h3>Transcriber's note</h3> + +<p>The following typographical error was corrected in the text:</p> + +<p> Phillis Poynton→Phyllis Poynton</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h3><b>Popular Copyright Novels</b></h3> + +<h4><i>AT MODERATE PRICES</i></h4> + +<h5>Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction</h5> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><b>Abner Daniel.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Adventures of Gerard.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> + +<p><b>Adventures of a Modest Man.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> + +<p><b>Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> + +<p><b>After House, The.</b> By Mary Roberts Rinehart.</p> + +<p><b>Alisa Paige.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>Alton of Somasco.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> + +<p><b>A Man's Man.</b> By Ian Hay.</p> + +<p><b>Amateur Gentleman, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> + +<p><b>Andrew The Glad.</b> By Maria Thompson Daviess.</p> + +<p><b>Ann Boyd.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Anna the Adventuress.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Another Man's Shoes.</b> By Victor Bridges.</p> + +<p><b>Ariadne of Allan Water.</b> By Sidney McCall.</p> + +<p><b>Armchair at the Inn, The.</b> By F. Hopkinson Smith.</p> + +<p><b>Around Old Chester.</b> By Margaret Deland.</p> + +<p><b>Athalie.</b> By Robert W. 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Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Better Man, The.</b> By Cyrus Townsend Brady.</p> + +<p><b>Beulah.</b> (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.</p> + +<p><b>Beyond the Frontier.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Black Is White.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> + + +<p><b>Blind Man's Eyes, The.</b> By Wm. MacHarg & Edwin Balmer.</p> + +<p><b>Bob Hampton of Placer.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Bob, Son of Battle.</b> By Alfred Ollivant.</p> + +<p><b>Britton of the Seventh.</b> By Cyrus Townsend Brady.</p> + +<p><b>Broad Highway, The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> + +<p><b>Bronze Bell, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + +<p><b>Bronze Eagle, The.</b> By Baroness Orczy.</p> + +<p><b>Buck Peters, Ranchman.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> + +<p><b>Business of Life, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>By Right of Purchase.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Cabbages and Kings.</b> By O. Henry.</p> + +<p><b>Calling of Dan Matthews, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> + +<p><b>Cape Cod Stories.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Cap'n Dan's Daughter.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Cap'n Eri.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Cap'n Warren's Wards.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Cardigan.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>Carpet From Bagdad, The.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> + +<p><b>Cease Firing.</b> By Mary Johnson.</p> + +<p><b>Chain of Evidence, A.</b> By Carolyn Wells.</p> + +<p><b>Chief Legatee, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> + +<p><b>Cleek of Scotland Yard.</b> By T. W. Hanshew.</p> + +<p><b>Clipped Wings.</b> By Rupert Hughes.</p> + +<p><b>Coast of Adventure, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> + +<p><b>Colonial Free Lance, A.</b> By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss.</p> + +<p><b>Coming of Cassidy, The.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> + +<p><b>Coming of the Law, The.</b> By Chas. A. Seltzer.</p> + +<p><b>Conquest of Canaan, The.</b> By Booth Tarkington.</p> + +<p><b>Conspirators, The.</b> By Robt. W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>Counsel for the Defense.</b> By Leroy Scott.</p> + +<p><b>Court of Inquiry, A.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>Crime Doctor, The.</b> By E. W. Hornung</p> + +<p><b>Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>Cross Currents.</b> By Eleanor H. Porter.</p> + +<p><b>Cry in the Wilderness, A.</b> By Mary E. Waller.</p> + +<p><b>Cynthia of the Minute.</b> By Louis Jos. Vance.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Dark Hollow, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> + +<p><b>Dave's Daughter.</b> By Patience Bevier Cole.</p> + +<p><b>Day of Days, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + +<p><b>Day of the Dog, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> + +<p><b>Depot Master, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Desired Woman, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Destroying Angel, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + +<p><b>Dixie Hart.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Double Traitor, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Drusilla With a Million.</b> By Elizabeth Cooper.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Eagle of the Empire, The.</b> By Cyrus Townsend Brady.</p> + +<p><b>El Dorado.</b> By Baroness Orczy.</p> + +<p><b>Elusive Isabel.</b> By Jacques Futrelle.</p> + +<p><b>Empty Pockets.</b> By Rupert Hughes.</p> + +<p><b>Enchanted Hat, The.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> + +<p><b>Eye of Dread, The.</b> By Payne Erskine.</p> + +<p><b>Eyes of the World, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Felix O'Day.</b> By F. Hopkinson Smith.</p> + +<p><b>50-40 or Fight.</b> By Emerson Hough.</p> + +<p><b>Fighting Chance, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers</p> + +<p><b>Financier, The.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.</p> + +<p><b>Flamsted Quarries.</b> By Mary E. Waller.</p> + +<p><b>Flying Mercury, The.</b> By Eleanor M. Ingram.</p> + +<p><b>For a Maiden Brave.</b> By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss.</p> + +<p><b>Four Million, The.</b> By O. Henry.</p> + +<p><b>Four Pool's Mystery, The.</b> By Jean Webster.</p> + +<p><b>Fruitful Vine, The.</b> By Robert Hichens.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford.</b> By George Randolph Chester.</p> + +<p><b>Gilbert Neal.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Girl From His Town, The.</b> By Marie Van Vorst.</p> + +<p><b>Girl of the Blue Ridge, A.</b> By Payne Erskine.</p> + +<p><b>Girl Who Lived in the Woods, The.</b> By Marjorie Benton +<ins class="correction" style="text-decoration: none" + title="Transcriber's Note: The original text reads 'Cook'.">Cooke.</ins></p> + +<p><b>Girl Who Won, The.</b> By Beth Ellis.</p> + +<p><b>Glory of Clementina, The.</b> By Wm. J. Locke.</p> + +<p><b>Glory of the Conquered, The.</b> By Susan Glaspell.</p> + +<p><b>God's Country and the Woman.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.</p> + +<p><b>God's Good Man.</b> By Marie Corelli.</p> + +<p><b>Going Some.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>Gold Bag, The.</b> By Carolyn Wells.</p> + +<p><b>Golden Slipper, The.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> + +<p><b>Golden Web, The.</b> By Anthony Partridge.</p> + +<p><b>Gordon Craig.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Greater Love Hath No Man.</b> By Frank L. Packard.</p> + +<p><b>Greyfriars Bobby.</b> By Eleanor Atkinson.</p> + +<p><b>Guests of Hercules, The.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Halcyone.</b> By Elinor Glyn.</p> + +<p><b>Happy Island (Sequel to Uncle William).</b> By Jeannette Lee.</p> + +<p><b>Havoc.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Heart of Philura, The.</b> By Florence Kingsley.</p> + +<p><b>Heart of the Desert, The.</b> By Honoré Willsie.</p> + +<p><b>Heart of the Hills, The.</b> By John Fox, Jr.</p> + +<p><b>Heart of the Sunset.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>Heart of Thunder Mountain, The.</b> By Elfrid A. Bingham.</p> + +<p><b>Heather-Moon, The.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Her Weight in Gold.</b> By Geo. B. McCutcheon.</p> + +<p><b>Hidden Children, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>Hoosier Volunteer, The.</b> By Kate and Virgil D. Boyles.</p> + +<p><b>Hopalong Cassidy.</b> By Clarence E. Mulford.</p> + +<p><b>How Leslie Loved.</b> By Anne Warner.</p> + +<p><b>Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker.</b> By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D.</p> + +<p><b>Husbands of Edith, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>I Conquered.</b> By Harold Titus.</p> + +<p><b>Illustrious Prince, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Idols.</b> By William J. Locke.</p> + +<p><b>Indifference of Juliet, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>Inez.</b> (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.</p> + +<p><b>Infelice.</b> By Augusta Evans Wilson.</p> + +<p><b>In Her Own Right.</b> By John Reed Scott.</p> + +<p><b>Initials Only.</b> By Anna Katharine Green.</p> + +<p><b>In Another Girl's Shoes.</b> By Berta Ruck.</p> + +<p><b>Inner Law, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Innocent.</b> By Marie Corelli.</p> + +<p><b>Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The.</b> By Sax Rohmer.</p> + +<p><b>In the Brooding Wild.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> + +<p><b>Intrigues, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> + +<p><b>Iron Trail, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>Iron Woman, The.</b> By Margaret Deland.</p> + +<p><b>Ishmael.</b> (Ill.) By Mrs. Southworth.</p> + +<p><b>Island of Regeneration, The.</b> By Cyrus Townsend Brady.</p> + +<p><b>Island of Surprise, The.</b> By Cyrus Townsend Brady.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Japonette.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>Jean of the Lazy A.</b> By B. M. Bower.</p> + +<p><b>Jeanne of the Marshes.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Jennie Gerhardt.</b> By Theodore Dreiser.</p> + +<p><b>Joyful Heatherby.</b> By Payne Erskine.</p> + +<p><b>Jude the Obscure.</b> By Thomas Hardy.</p> + +<p><b>Judgment House, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Keeper of the Door, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> + +<p><b>Keith of the Border.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Kent Knowles: Quahaug.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>King Spruce.</b> By Holman Day.</p> + +<p><b>Kingdom of Earth, The.</b> By Anthony Partridge.</p> + +<p><b>Knave of Diamonds, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Lady and the Pirate, The.</b> By Emerson Hough.</p> + +<p><b>Lady Merton, Colonist.</b> By Mrs. Humphrey Ward.</p> + + +<p><b>Landloper, The.</b> By Holman Day.</p> + +<p><b>Land of Long Ago, The.</b> By Eliza Calvert Hall.</p> + +<p><b>Last Try, The.</b> By John Reed Scott.</p> + +<p><b>Last Shot, The.</b> By Frederick N. Palmer.</p> + +<p><b>Last Trail, The.</b> By Zane Grey.</p> + +<p><b>Laughing Cavalier, The.</b> By Baroness Orczy.</p> + +<p><b>Law Breakers, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> + +<p><b>Lighted Way, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Lighting Conductor Discovers America, The.</b> By C. N. & A. +<ins class="correction" style="text-decoration: none" + title="Transcriber's Note: The original text reads 'N'.">M.</ins> +Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Lin McLean.</b> By Owen Wister.</p> + +<p><b>Little Brown Jug at Kildare, The.</b> By Meredith Nicholson.</p> + +<p><b>Lone Wolf, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + +<p><b>Long Roll, The.</b> By Mary Johnson.</p> + +<p><b>Lonesome Land.</b> By B. M. Bower.</p> + +<p><b>Lord Loveland Discovers America.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Lost Ambassador.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Lost Prince, The.</b> By Frances Hodgson Burnett.</p> + +<p><b>Lost Road, The.</b> By Richard Harding Davis.</p> + +<p><b>Love Under Fire.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Macaria.</b> (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.</p> + +<p><b>Maids of Paradise, The.</b> By Robert W. Chambers.</p> + +<p><b>Maid of the Forest, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Maid of the Whispering Hills, The.</b> By Vingie E. Roe.</p> + +<p><b>Making of Bobby Burnit, The.</b> By Randolph Chester.</p> + +<p><b>Making Money.</b> By Owen Johnson.</p> + +<p><b>Mam' Linda.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Man Outside, The.</b> By Wyndham Martyn.</p> + +<p><b>Man Trail, The.</b> By Henry Oyen.</p> + +<p><b>Marriage.</b> By H. G. Wells.</p> + +<p><b>Marriage of Theodora, The.</b> By Mollie Elliott Seawell.</p> + +<p><b>Mary Moreland.</b> By Marie Van Vorst.</p> + +<p><b>Master Mummer, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Max.</b> By Katherine Cecil Thurston.</p> + +<p><b>Maxwell Mystery, The.</b> By +<ins class="correction" style="text-decoration: none" + title="Transcriber's Note: The original text reads 'Caroline'.">Carolyn</ins> Wells.</p> + +<p><b>Mediator, The.</b> By Roy Norton.</p> + +<p><b>Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> + +<p><b>Mischief Maker, The.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Miss Gibbie Gault.</b> By Kate Langley Bosher.</p> + +<p><b>Miss Philura's Wedding Gown.</b> By Florence Morse Kingsley.</p> + +<p><b>Molly McDonald.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Money Master, The.</b> By Gilbert Parker.</p> + +<p><b>Money Moon. The.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> + +<p><b>Motor Maid, The.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Moth, The.</b> By William Dana Orcutt.</p> + +<p><b>Mountain Girl, The.</b> By Payne Erskine.</p> + +<p><b>Mr. Bingle.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> + +<p><b>Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Mr. Pratt.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Mr. Pratt's Patients.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Mrs. Balfame.</b> By Gertrude Atherton.</p> + +<p><b>Mrs. Red Pepper.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>My Demon Motor Boat.</b> By George Fitch.</p> + +<p><b>My Friend the Chauffeur.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>My Lady Caprice.</b> By Jeffery Farnol.</p> + +<p><b>My Lady of Doubt.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>My Lady of the North.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>My Lady of the South.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Ne'er-Do-Well, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>Net, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>New Clarion.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Night Riders, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> + +<p><b>Night Watches.</b> By W. W. Jacobs.</p> + +<p><b>Nobody.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Once Upon a Time.</b> By Richard Harding Davis.</p> + +<p><b>One Braver Thing.</b> By Richard Dehan.</p> + +<p><b>One Way Trail, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> + +<p><b>Otherwise Phyllis.</b> By Meredith Nicholson.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Pardners.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>Parrott & Co.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> + +<p><b>Partners of the Tide.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Passionate Friends, The.</b> By H. G. Wells.</p> + +<p><b>Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail, The.</b> By Ralph Connor.</p> + +<p><b>Paul Anthony, Christian.</b> By Hiram W. Hayes.</p> + +<p><b>Perch of the Devil.</b> By Gertrude Atherton.</p> + +<p><b>Peter Ruff.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>People's Man, A.</b> By E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Phillip Steele.</b> By James Oliver Curwood.</p> + +<p><b>Pidgin Island.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> + +<p><b>Place of Honeymoon, The.</b> By Harold MacGrath.</p> + +<p><b>Plunderer, The.</b> By Roy Norton.</p> + +<p><b>Pole Baker.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Pool of Flame, The.</b> By Louis Joseph Vance.</p> + +<p><b>Port of Adventure, The.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Postmaster, The.</b> By Joseph C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Power and the Glory, The.</b> By Grace McGowan Cooke.</p> + +<p><b>Prairie Wife, The.</b> By Arthur Stringer.</p> + +<p><b>Price of Love, The.</b> By Arnold Bennett.</p> + +<p><b>Price of the Prairie, The.</b> By Margaret Hill McCarter.</p> + +<p><b>Prince of Sinners.</b> By A. E. Phillips Oppenheim.</p> + +<p><b>Princes Passes, The.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Princess Virginia, The.</b> By C. N. and A. +<ins class="correction" style="text-decoration: none" + title="Transcriber's Note: The original text reads 'N'.">M.</ins> Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Promise, The.</b> By J. B. Hendryx.</p> + +<p><b>Purple Parasol, The.</b> By Geo. B. McCutcheon.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>Ranch at the Wolverine, The.</b> By B. M. Bower.</p> + +<p><b>Ranching for Sylvia.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> + +<p><b>Real Man, The.</b> By Francis Lynde.</p> + +<p><b>Reason Why, The.</b> By Elinor Glyn.</p> + +<p><b>Red Cross Girl, The.</b> By Richard Harding Davis.</p> + +<p><b>Red Mist, The.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Redemption of Kenneth Galt, The.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> + +<p><b>Red Lane, The.</b> By Holman Day.</p> + +<p><b>Red Mouse, The.</b> By Wm. Hamilton Osborne.</p> + +<p><b>Red Pepper Burns.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The.</b> By Anne Warner.</p> + +<p><b>Return of Tarzan, The.</b> By Edgar Rice Burroughs.</p> + +<p><b>Riddle of Night, The.</b> By Thomas W. Hanshew.</p> + +<p><b>Rim of the Desert, The.</b> By Ada Woodruff Anderson.</p> + +<p><b>Rise of Roscoe Paine, The.</b> By J. C. Lincoln.</p> + +<p><b>Road to Providence, The.</b> By Maria Thompson Daviess.</p> + +<p><b>Robinetta.</b> By Kate Douglas Wiggin.</p> + +<p><b>Rocks of Valpré, The.</b> By Ethel M. Dell.</p> + +<p><b>Rogue by Compulsion, A.</b> By Victor Bridges.</p> + +<p><b>Rose in the Ring, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> + +<p><b>Rose of the World.</b> By Agnes and Egerton Castle.</p> + +<p><b>Rose of Old Harpeth, The.</b> By Maria Thompson Daviess.</p> + +<p><b>Round the Corner in Gay Street.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>Routledge Rides Alone.</b> By Will L. Comfort.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><b>St. Elmo.</b> (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.</p> + +<p><b>Salamander, The.</b> By Owen Johnson.</p> + +<p><b>Scientific Sprague.</b> By Francis Lynde.</p> + +<p><b>Second Violin, The.</b> By Grace S. Richmond.</p> + +<p><b>Secret of the Reef, The.</b> By Harold Bindloss.</p> + +<p><b>Secret History.</b> By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Self-Raised.</b> (Ill.) By Mrs. Southworth.</p> + +<p><b>Septimus.</b> By William J. Locke.</p> + +<p><b>Set in Silver.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> + +<p><b>Seven Darlings, The.</b> By Gouverneur Morris.</p> + +<p><b>Shea of the Irish Brigade.</b> By Randall Parrish.</p> + +<p><b>Shepherd of the Hills, The.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> + +<p><b>Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The.</b> By Ridgwell Cullum.</p> + +<p><b>Sign at Six, The.</b> By Stewart Edw. White.</p> + +<p><b>Silver Horde, The.</b> By Rex Beach.</p> + +<p><b>Simon the Jester.</b> By William J. Locke.</p> + +<p><b>Siren of the Snows, A.</b> By Stanley Shaw.</p> + +<p><b>Sir Richard Calmady.</b> By Lucas Malet.</p> + +<p><b>Sixty-First Second, The.</b> By Owen Johnson.</p> + +<p><b>Slim Princess, The.</b> By George Ade.</p> +<p> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<h3>Transcriber's notes</h3> + +<p>The following typographical errors were corrected in the text above:</p> + +<ol> +<li>A. N. Williamson→A. M. Williamson</li> +<li>Caroline Well→Carolyn Wells</li> +<li>Marjorie Benton Cook→Marjorie Benton Cooke</li> +</ol> +<p> +The list of books presented at the bottom of this text ended +at "The Slim Princess" in the original scans that were used, +probably due to missing pages. Other copies that were obtained +did not include this list of books at all. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 19341-h.txt or 19341-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/3/4/19341">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/4/19341</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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Phillips Oppenheim + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Maker of History + + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + + + +Release Date: September 20, 2006 [eBook #19341] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY*** + + +E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Patricia A. Benoy, and the +Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team +(https://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 19341-h.htm or 19341-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/3/4/19341/19341-h/19341-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/3/4/19341/19341-h.zip) + + + + + +A MAKER OF HISTORY + +by + +E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + +Author of +"The Kingdom of the Blind," "The Hillman," +"The Double Traitor," Etc. + +With Frontispiece + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "'Guard this for me,' she whispered." (page 148) +_Frontispiece_] + + +[Illustration] + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York +Published by arrangement with Little, Brown & Company +Copyright, 1905, 1906, +by Little, Brown, and Company. +All rights reserved + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + BOOK I + + I. AN ACCIDENTAL SPY 1 + + II. AT THE CAFE MONTMARTRE 11 + + III. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 18 + + IV. THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF 26 + + V. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT 33 + + VI. THE VANISHING LADY 40 + + VII. THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE 48 + + VIII. "DUNCOMBE'S HOLD-UP" 55 + + IX. THE STORY OF A CALL 64 + + X. SPENCER'S SURPRISE 72 + + XI. A WORD OF WARNING 80 + + XII. THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE 87 + + XIII. "HER VOICE" 93 + + XIV. LAUGHTER OF WOMEN 101 + + XV. MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA 107 + + XVI. MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION 115 + + XVII. GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE 121 + + XVIII. "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?" 129 + + XIX. A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER 137 + + XX. MR. FIELDING IN A NEW ROLE 143 + + XXI. A WOMAN'S CRY 151 + + XXII. LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS 160 + + XXIII. HER FIRST KISS 171 + + XXIV. THE EMPTY ROOM 179 + + + BOOK II + + I. GUY POYNTON AGAIN 185 + + II. AN OLD STORY 192 + + III. A BODY FROM THE SEINE 200 + + IV. THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE 208 + + V. THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS 217 + + VI. THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW 225 + + VII. SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE 234 + + VIII. A POLITICAL INTERLUDE 243 + + IX. ARRESTED! 251 + + X. THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS 259 + + XI. THE MAKING OF HISTORY 267 + + XII. AN OLD FRIEND 276 + + XIII. A NEWSPAPER SENSATION 285 + + XIV. THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY 294 + + XV. A MERRY MEETING 301 + + + + +A MAKER OF HISTORY + + +BOOK I + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN ACCIDENTAL SPY + + +The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was stiff, footsore, and a little +chilly. There was no man-servant arranging his bath and clothes, no +pleasant smell of coffee--none of the small luxuries to which he was +accustomed. On the contrary, he had slept all night upon a bed of +bracken, with no other covering than the stiff pine needles from the +tall black trees, whose rustling music had lulled him to sleep. + +He sat up, and remembered suddenly where he was and how he had come +there. He yawned, and was on the point of struggling to his feet when he +became aware of certain changed conditions in his surroundings. Some +instinct, of simple curiosity perhaps, but of far-reaching effect, led +him to crawl back into his hiding-place and watch. + +Last night, after many hours of painful walking, two things alone had +impressed themselves upon his consciousness: the dark illimitable forest +and the double line of rails, which with the absolute straightness of +exact science had stretched behind and in front till the tree-tops in +the far distance seemed to touch, and the rails themselves to vanish +into the black heart of the close-growing pines. For miles he had +limped along the painfully rough track without seeing the slightest sign +of any break in the woods, or any human being. At last the desire for +sleep had overtaken him. He was a hardy young Englishman, and a night +out of doors in the middle of June under these odorous pines presented +itself merely as a not disagreeable adventure. Five minutes after the +idea had occurred to him he was asleep. + +And now in the gray morning he looked out upon a different scene. +Scarcely a dozen yards from him stood a single travelling-coach of dark +green, drawn by a heavy engine. At intervals of scarcely twenty paces up +and down the line, as far as he could see, soldiers were stationed like +sentries. They were looking sharply about in all directions, and he +could even hear the footsteps of others crashing through the wood. From +the train three or four men in long cloaks had already descended. They +were standing in the track talking together. + +The young man behind the bracken felt himself in somewhat of a dilemma. +There was a delightful smell of fresh coffee from the waiting coach, and +there seemed to be not the slightest reason why he should not emerge +from his hiding-place and claim the hospitality of these people. He was +a quite harmless person, with proper credentials, and an adequate +explanation of his presence there. On the other hand, the spirit of +adventure natural to his years strongly prompted him to remain where he +was and watch. He felt certain that something was going to happen. +Besides, those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for somebody to +shoot! + +Whilst he was hesitating, something did happen. There was a shrill +whistle, a puff of white smoke in the distance, and another train +approached from the opposite direction. + +It drew up within a few feet of the one which was already waiting. +Almost immediately half a dozen men, who were already standing upon the +platform of the car, descended. One of these approached rapidly, and +saluted the central figure of those who had been talking together in the +track. After a few moments' conversation these two, followed by one +other man only who was carrying a writing portfolio, ascended the +platform of the train which had arrived first and disappeared inside. + +The young man who was watching these proceedings yawned. + +"No duel, then!" he muttered to himself. "I've half a mind to go out." +Then he caught sight of a particularly fierce-looking soldier with his +finger already upon the trigger of his gun, and he decided to remain +where he was. + +In about half an hour the two men reappeared on the platform of the car. +Simultaneously the window of the carriage in which they had been sitting +was opened, and the third man was visible, standing before a small table +and arranging some papers. Suddenly he was called from outside. He +thrust his hat upon the papers, and hastened to obey the summons. + +A little gust of breeze from the opening and closing of the door +detached one of the sheets of paper from the restraining weight of the +hat. It fluttered out of the window and lay for a moment upon the side +of the track. No one noticed it, and in a second or two it fluttered +underneath the clump of bracken behind which the young Englishman was +hiding. He thrust out his hand and calmly secured it. + +In less than five minutes the place was deserted. Amidst many hasty +farewells, wholly unintelligible to the watcher, the two groups of men +separated and climbed into their respective trains. As soon as every one +was out of sight the Englishman rose with a little grunt of satisfaction +and stretched himself. + +He glanced first at the sheet of paper, and finding it written in German +thrust it into his pocket. Then he commenced an anxious search for +smoking materials, and eventually produced a pipe, a crumpled packet of +tobacco, and two matches. + +"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, lighting up. "And now for a tramp." + +He plodded steadily along the track for an hour or more. All the time he +was in the heart of the forest. Pheasants and rabbits and squirrels +continually crossed in front of him. Once a train passed, and an excited +guard shouted threats and warnings, to which he replied in fluent but +ineffective English. + +"Johnnies seem to think I'm trespassing!" he remarked to himself in an +aggrieved tone. "I can't help being on their beastly line!" + +Tall, smooth-faced, and fair, he walked with the long step and lightsome +grace of the athletic young Englishman of his day. He was well dressed +in tweed clothes, cut by a good tailor, a little creased by his night +out of doors, but otherwise immaculate. He hummed a popular air to +himself, and held his head high. If only he were not so hungry. + +Then he came to a station. It was little more than a few rows of planks, +with a chalet at one end--but a very welcome sight confronted him. A +little pile of luggage, with his initials, G. P., was on the end of the +platform nearest to him. + +"That conductor was a sensible chap," he exclaimed. "Glad I tipped him. +Hullo!" + +The station-master, in uniform, came hurrying out. The young Englishman +took off his hat, and produced a phrase book from his pocket. He ignored +the stream of words which the station-master, with many gesticulations, +was already pouring out. + +"My luggage," he said firmly, laying one hand upon the pile, and waving +the phrase book. + +The station-master acquiesced heartily. He waxed eloquent again, but the +Englishman was busy with the phrase book. + +"Hungry! Hotel?" he attempted. + +The station-master pointed to where the smoke was curling upwards from a +score or so of houses about half a mile distant. The Englishman was +getting pleased with himself. Outside was a weird-looking carriage, and +on the box seat, fast asleep, was a very fat man in a shiny hat, +ornamented by a bunch of feathers. He pointed to the luggage, then to +the cab, and finally to the village. + +"Luggage, hotel, carriage!" he suggested. + +The station-master beamed all over. With a shout, which must have +reached the village, he awakened the sleeping man. In less than five +minutes the Englishman and his luggage were stored away in the carriage. +His ticket had been examined by the station-master, and smilingly +accepted. There were more bows and salutes, and the carriage drove off. +Mr. Guy Poynton leaned back amongst the mouldy leather upholstery, and +smiled complacently. + +"Easiest thing in the world to get on in a foreign country with a phrase +book and your wits," he remarked to himself. "Jove, I am hungry!" + +He drove into a village of half a dozen houses or so, which reminded him +of the pictured abodes of Noah and his brethren. An astonished +innkeeper, whose morning attire apparently consisted of trousers, shirt, +and spectacles, ushered him into a bare room with a trestle table. Guy +produced his phrase book. + +"Hungry!" he said vociferously. "Want to eat! Coffee!" + +The man appeared to understand, but in case there should have been any +mistake Guy followed him into the kitchen. The driver, who had lost no +time, was already there, with a long glass of beer before him. Guy +produced a mark, laid it on the table, touched himself, the innkeeper, +and the driver, and pointed to the beer. The innkeeper understood, and +the beer was good. + +The driver, who had been of course ludicrously over-paid, settled down +in his corner, and announced his intention of seeing through to the end +this most extraordinary and Heaven-directed occurrence. The innkeeper +and his wife busied themselves with the breakfast, and Guy made remarks +every now and then from his phrase book, which were usually +incomprehensible, except when they concerned a further supply of beer. +With a brave acceptance of the courtesies of the country he had accepted +a cigar from the driver, and was already contemplating the awful moment +when he would have to light it. Just then an interruption came. + +It was something very official, but whether military or of the police +Guy could not tell. It strode into the room with clanking of spurs, and +the driver and innkeeper alike stood up in respect. It saluted Guy. Guy +took off his hat. Then there came words, but Guy was busy with his +phrase book. + +"I cannot a word of German speak!" he announced at last. + +A deadlock ensued. The innkeeper and the driver rushed into the breach. +Conversation became furious. Guy took advantage of the moment to slip +the cigar into his pocket, and to light a cigarette. Finally, the +officer swung himself round, and departed abruptly. + +"Dolmetscher," the driver announced to him triumphantly. + +"Dolmetscher," the innkeeper repeated. + +Guy turned it up in his phrase book, and found that it meant +interpreter. He devoted himself then to stimulating the preparations for +breakfast. + +The meal was ready at last. There were eggs and ham and veal, +dark-colored bread, and coffee, sufficient for about a dozen people. The +driver constituted himself host, and Guy, with a shout of laughter, sat +down where he was, and ate. In the midst of the meal the officer +reappeared, ushering in a small wizened-faced individual of unmistakably +English appearance. Guy turned round in his chair, and the newcomer +touched his forelock. + +"Hullo!" Guy exclaimed. "You're English!" + +"Yes, sir!" the man answered. "Came over to train polo ponies for the +Prince of Haepsburg. Not in any trouble, I hope, sir?" + +"Not I," Guy answered cheerily. "Don't mind my going on with my +breakfast, do you? What's it all about? Who's the gentleman with the +fireman's helmet on, and what's he worrying about?" + +"He is an officer of the police, sir, on special service," the man +answered. "You have been reported for trespassing on the State railway +this morning." + +"Trespassing be blowed!" Guy answered. "I've got my ticket for the +frontier. We were blocked by signal about half a dozen miles off this +place, and I got down to stretch my legs. I understood them to say that +we could not go on for half an hour or so. They never tried to stop my +getting down, and then off they went without any warning, and left me +there." + +"I will translate to the officer, sir," the man said. + +"Right!" Guy declared. "Go ahead." + +There was a brisk colloquy between the two. Then the little man began +again. + +"He says that your train passed here at midnight, and that you did not +arrive until past six." + +"Quite right!" Guy admitted. "I went to sleep. I didn't know how far it +was to the station, and I was dead tired." + +"The officer wishes to know whether many trains passed you in the +night?" + +"Can't say," Guy answered. "I sleep very soundly, and I never opened my +eyes after the first few minutes." + +"The officer wishes to know whether you saw anything unusual upon the +line?" the little man asked. + +"Nothing at all," Guy answered coolly. "Bit inquisitive, isn't he?" + +The little man came closer to the table. + +"He wishes to see your passport, sir," he announced. + +Guy handed it to him, also a letter of credit and several other +documents. + +"He wants to know why you were going to the frontier, sir!" + +"Sort of fancy to say that I'd been in Russia, that's all!" Guy +answered. "You tell him I'm a perfectly harmless individual. Never been +abroad before." + +The officer listened, and took notes in his pocketbook of the passport +and letter of credit. Then he departed with a formal salute, and they +heard his horse's hoofs ring upon the road outside as he galloped away. +The little man came close up to the table. + +"You'll excuse me, sir," he said, "but you seem to have upset the +officials very much by being upon the line last night. There have been +some rumors going about--but perhaps you're best not to know that. May I +give you a word of advice, sir?" + +"Let me give you one," Guy declared. "Try this beer!" + +"I thank you, sir," the man answered. "I will do so with pleasure. But +if you are really an ordinary tourist, sir,--as I have no doubt you +are,--let this man drive you to Streuen, and take the train for the +Austrian frontier. You may save yourself a good deal of unpleasantness." + +"I'll do it!" Guy declared. "Vienna was the next place I was going to, +anyhow. You tell the fellow where to take me, will you?" + +The man spoke rapidly to the driver. + +"I think that you will be followed, sir," he added, turning to Guy, "but +very likely they won't interfere with you. The railway last night for +twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know +why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an +idea that you are either a journalist or a spy." + +"_Civis Britannicus sum!_" the boy answered, with a laugh. + +"It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AT THE CAFE MONTMARTRE + + +Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in +evening dress, entered the Cafe Montmartre, in Paris. He made his way +through the heterogeneous little crowd of men and women who were +drinking at the bar, past the scarlet-coated orchestra, into the inner +room, where the tables were laid for supper. Monsieur Albert, satisfied +with the appearance of his new client, led him at once to a small table, +submitted the wine card, and summoned a waiter. With some difficulty, as +his French was very little better than his German, he ordered supper, +and then lighting a cigarette, leaned back against the wall and looked +around to see if he could discover any English or Americans. + +The room was only moderately full, for the hour was a little early for +this quarter of Paris. Nevertheless, he was quick to appreciate a +certain spirit of Bohemianism which pleased him. Every one talked to his +neighbor. An American from the further end of the room raised his glass +and drank his health. A pretty fair-haired girl leaned over from her +table and smiled at him. + +"Monsieur like talk with me, eh?" + +"English?" he asked. + +"No. De Wien!" + +He shook his head smilingly. + +"We shouldn't get on," he declared. "Can't speak the language." + +She raised her eyebrows with a protesting gesture, but he looked away +and opened an illustrated paper by his side. He turned over the pages +idly enough at first, but suddenly paused. He whistled softly to himself +and stared at the two photographs which filled the sheet. + +"By Jove!" he said softly to himself. + +There was the rustling of skirts close to his table. An unmistakably +English voice addressed him. + +"Is it anything very interesting? Do show me!" + +He looked up. Mademoiselle Flossie, pleased with his appearance, had +paused on her way down the room. + +"Come and sit down, and I'll show it you!" he said, rising. "You're +English, aren't you?" + +Mademoiselle Flossie waved a temporary adieu to her friends and accepted +the invitation. He poured her out a glass of wine. + +"Stay and have supper with me," he begged. "I must be off soon, but I'm +tired of being alone. This is my last night, thank goodness." + +"All right!" she answered gayly. "I must go back to my friends directly +afterwards." + +"Order what you like," he begged. "I can't make these chaps understand +me." + +She laughed, and called the waiter. + +"And now show me what you were looking at in that paper," she insisted. + +He pointed to the two photographs. + +"I saw those two together only a week ago," he said. "Want to hear about +it?" + +She looked startled for a moment, and a little incredulous. + +"Yes, go on!" she said. + +He told her the story. She listened with an interest which surprised +him. Once or twice when he looked up he fancied that the lady from +Vienna was also doing her best to listen. When he had finished their +supper had arrived. + +"I think," she said, as she helped herself to _hors d'oeuvre_, "that +you were very fortunate to get away." + +He laughed carelessly. + +"The joke of it is," he said, "I've been followed all the way here. One +fellow, who pretended he got in at Strasburg, was trying to talk to me +all the time, but I saw him sneak in at Vienna, and I wasn't having any. +I say, do you come here every evening?" + +"Very often," she answered. "I dance at the Comique, and then we +generally go to Maxim's to supper, and up here afterwards. I'll +introduce you to my friends afterwards, if you like, and we'll all sit +together. If you're very good I'll dance to you!" + +"Delighted," he answered, "if they speak English. I'm sick of trying to +make people understand my rotten French." + +She nodded. + +"They speak English all right. I wish that horrid Viennese girl wouldn't +try to listen to every word we say." + +He smiled. + +"She wanted me to sit at her table," he remarked. + +Mademoiselle Flossie looked at him warningly, and dropped her voice. + +"Better be careful!" she whispered. "They say she's a spy!" + +"On my track very likely," he declared with a grin. + +She threw herself back in her seat and laughed. + +"Conceited! Why should any one want to be on your track? Come and see me +dance at the Comique to-morrow night." + +"Can't," he declared. "My sister's coming over from England." + +"Stupid!" + +"Oh, I'll come one night," he declared. "Order some coffee, won't +you--and what liqueurs?" + +"I'll go and fetch my friends," she declared, rising. "We'll all have +coffee together." + +"Who are they?" he asked. + +She pointed to a little group down the room--two men and a woman. The +men were French, one middle-aged and one young, dark, immaculate, and +with the slightly bored air affected by young Frenchmen of fashion; the +woman was strikingly handsome and magnificently dressed. They were quite +the most distinguished-looking people in the room. + +"If you think they'll come," he remarked doubtfully. "Aren't we rather +comfortable as we are?" + +She made her way between the tables. + +"Oh, they'll come," she declared. "They're pals!" + +She floated down the room with a cigarette in her mouth, very graceful +in her airy muslin skirts and large hat. Guy followed her admiringly +with his eyes. The Viennese lady suddenly tore off a corner of her menu +and scribbled something quickly. She passed it over to Guy. + +"Read!" she said imperatively. + +He nodded, and opened it. + +"_Prenez garde!_" he said slowly. Then he looked at her and shook his +head. She was making signs to him to destroy her message, and he at once +did so. + +"Don't understand!" he said. "Sorry!" + +Mademoiselle Flossie was laughing and talking with her friends. +Presently they rose, and came across the room with her. Guy stood up and +bowed. The introductions were informal, but he felt his insular +prejudices a little shattered by the delightful ease with which these +two Frenchmen accepted the situation. Their breeding was as obvious as +their _bonhomie_. The table was speedily rearranged to find places for +them all. + +"Your friends will take coffee with me, Mademoiselle," Guy said. "Do be +hostess, please. My attempts at French will only amuse everybody." + +The elder of the two Frenchmen, whom the waiter addressed as Monsieur le +Baron, and every one else as Louis, held up his hand. + +"With pleasure!" he declared, "later on. Just now it is too early. We +will celebrate _l'entente cordiale_. _Garcon_, a magnum of Pommery, _un +neu frappe_! I know you will forgive the liberty," he said, smiling at +Guy. "This bottle is vowed. Flossie has smiled for the first time for +three evenings." + +She threw a paper fan at him, and sat down again by Guy. + +"Do tell him the story you told me," she whispered in his ear. "Louis, +listen!" + +Guy retold his story. Monsieur le Baron listened intently. So did the +lady who had accompanied him. Guy felt that he told it very well, but +for the second time he omitted all mention of that missing sheet of +paper which had come into his possession. Monsieur le Baron was +obviously much interested. + +"You are quite sure--of the two men?" he asked quietly. + +"Quite!" Guy answered confidently. "One was----" + +Madame--Flossie's friend--dropped a wineglass. Monsieur le Baron raised +his hand. + +"No names," he said. "It is better not. We understand. A most +interesting adventure, Monsieur Poynton, and--to your health!" + +The wine was good, and the fun of the place itself went almost to the +head. Always there were newcomers who passed down the room amidst a +chorus of greetings, always the gayest of music. Then amidst cheers +Flossie and another friend whom she called from a distant table danced a +cake-walk--danced very gracefully, and with a marvellous display of +rainbow skirts. She came back breathless, and threw herself down by +Guy's side. + +"Give me some more wine!" she panted. "How close the place is!" + +The younger Frenchman, who had scarcely spoken, leaned over. + +"An idea!" he exclaimed. "My automobile is outside. I will drive you all +round the city. Monsieur Poynton shall see Paris undressed. Afterwards +we will go to Louis' rooms and make his man cook us a _dejeuner +Anglais_." + +Flossie stood up and laughed. + +"Who'll lend me a coat?" she cried. "I've nothing but a lace mantle." + +"Plenty of Frenchmen in the car," the young Frenchman cried. "Are we +all agreed? Good! _Garcon, l'addition!_" + +"And mine," Guy ordered. + +The women departed for their wraps. Guy and the two Frenchmen filled +their pockets with cigarettes. When the bills came Guy found that his +own was a trifle, and Monsieur Louis waved aside all protest. + +"We are hosts to-night, my young friend," he declared with charming +insistence. "Another time you shall have your turn. You must come round +to the club to-morrow, and we will arrange for some sport. _Allons!_" + +They crowded out together amidst a chorus of farewells. Guy took +Flossie's arm going down the stairs. + +"I say, I'm awfully obliged to you for introducing me to your friends," +he declared. "I'm having a ripping time!" + +She laughed. + +"Oh, they're all right," she declared. "Mind my skirts!" + +"I say, what does '_prenez garde_' mean?" he asked. + +"'Take care.' Why?" + +He laughed again. + +"Nothing!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE + + +"Mademoiselle," the young man said, with an air of somewhat weary +politeness, "I regret to say that there is nothing more to be done!" + +He was grieved and polite because Mademoiselle was beautiful and in +trouble. For the rest he was a little tired of her. Brothers of +twenty-one, who have never been in Paris before, and cannot speak the +language, must occasionally get lost, and the British Embassy is not +exactly a transported Scotland Yard. + +"Then," she declared, with a vigorous little stamp of her shapely foot, +"I don't see what we keep an Ambassador here for at all--or any of you. +It is scandalous!" + +The Hon. Nigel Fergusson dropped his eyeglass and surveyed the young +lady attentively. + +"My dear Miss Poynton," he said, "I will not presume to argue with you. +We are here, I suppose, for some purpose or other. Whether we fulfil it +or not may well be a matter of opinion. But that purpose is certainly +not to look after any young idiot--you must excuse my speaking +plainly--who runs amuck in this most fascinating city. In your case the +Chief has gone out of his way to help you. He has interviewed the chief +of police himself, brought his influence to bear in various quarters, +and I can tell you conscientiously that everything which possibly can +be done is being done at the present moment. If you wish for my advice +it is this: Send for some friend to keep you company here, and try to be +patient. You are in all probability making yourself needlessly +miserable." + +She looked at him a little reproachfully. He noticed, however, with +secret joy that she was drawing on her gloves. + +"Patient! He was to meet me here ten days ago. He arrived at the hotel. +His clothes are all there, and his bill unpaid. He went out the night of +his arrival, and has never returned. Patient! Well, I am much obliged to +you, Mr. Fergusson. I have no doubt that you have done all that your +duty required. Good afternoon!" + +"Good afternoon, Miss Poynton, and don't be too despondent. Remember +that the French police are the cleverest in the world, and they are +working for you." + +She looked up at him scornfully. + +"Police, indeed!" she answered. "Do you know that all they have done so +far is to keep sending for me to go and look at dead bodies down at the +Morgue? I think that I shall send over for an English detective." + +"You might do worse," he answered; "but in any case, Miss Poynton, I do +hope that you will send over for some friend or relation to keep you +company. Paris is scarcely a fit place for you to be alone and in +trouble." + +"Thank you," she said. "I will remember what you have said." + +The young man watched her depart with a curious mixture of relief and +regret. + +"The young fool's been the usual round, I suppose, and he's either too +much ashamed of himself or too besotted to turn up. I wish she wasn't +quite so devilish good-looking," he remarked to himself. "If she goes +about alone she'll get badly scared before she's finished." + +Phyllis Poynton drove straight back to her hotel and went to her room. A +sympathetic chambermaid followed her in. + +"Mademoiselle has news yet of her brother?" she inquired. + +Mademoiselle shook her head. Indeed her face was sufficient answer. + +"None at all, Marie." + +The chambermaid closed the door. + +"It would help Mademoiselle, perhaps, if she knew where the young +gentleman spent the evening before he disappeared?" she inquired +mysteriously. + +"Of course! That is just what I want to find out." + +Marie smiled. + +"There is a young man here in the barber's shop, Mademoiselle," she +announced. "He remembers Monsieur Poynton quite well. He went in there +to be shaved, and he asked some questions. I think if Mademoiselle were +to see him!" + +The girl jumped up at once. + +"Do you know his name?" she asked. + +"Monsieur Alphonse, they call him. He is on duty now." + +Phyllis Poynton descended at once to the ground +floor of the hotel, and pushed open the glass door which led into the +coiffeur's shop. Monsieur Alphonse was waiting upon a customer, and she +was given a chair. In a few minutes he descended the spiral iron +staircase and desired to know Mademoiselle's pleasure. + +"You speak English?" she asked. + +"But certainly, Mademoiselle." + +She gave a little sigh of relief. + +"I wonder," she said, "if you remember waiting upon my brother last +Thursday week. He was tall and fair, and something like me. He had just +arrived in Paris." + +Monsieur Alphonse smiled. He rarely forgot a face, and the young +Englishman's tip had been munificent. + +"Perfectly, Mademoiselle," he answered. "They sent for me because +Monsieur spoke no French." + +"My chambermaid, Marie, told me that you might perhaps know how he +proposed to spend the evening," she continued. "He was quite a stranger +in Paris, and he may have asked for some information." + +Monsieur Alphonse smiled, and extended his hands. + +"It is quite true," he answered. "He asked me where to go, and I say to +the Folies Bergeres. Then he said he had heard a good deal of the supper +cafes, and he asked me which was the most amusing. I tell him the Cafe +Montmartre. He wrote it down." + +"Do you think that he meant to go there?" she asked. + +"But certainly. He promised to come and tell me the next day how he +amused himself." + +"The Cafe Montmartre. Where is it?" she asked. + +"In the Place de Montmartre. But Mademoiselle pardons--she will +understand that it is a place for men." + +"Are women not admitted?" she asked. + +Alphonse smiled. + +"But--yes. Only Mademoiselle understands that if a lady should go there +she would need to be very well escorted." + +She rose and slipped a coin into his hand. + +"I am very much obliged to you," she said. "By the bye, have any other +people made inquiries of you concerning my brother?" + +"No one at all, Mademoiselle!" the man answered. + +She almost slammed the door behind when she went out. + +"And they say that the French police are the cleverest in the world," +she exclaimed indignantly. + +Monsieur Alphonse watched her through the glass pane. + +"_Ciel!_ But she is pretty!" he murmured to himself. + + * * * * * + +She turned into the writing-room, and taking off her gloves she wrote a +letter. Her pretty fingers were innocent of rings, and her handwriting +was a little shaky. Nevertheless, it is certain that not a man passed +through the room who did not find an excuse to steal a second glance at +her. This is what she wrote:-- + + "MY DEAR ANDREW,--I am in great distress here, and + very unhappy. I should have written to you before, but I know + that you have your own trouble to bear just now, and I hated + to bother you. I arrived here punctually on the date arranged + upon between Guy and myself, and found that he had arrived the + night before, and had engaged a room for me. He was out when I + came. I changed my clothes and sat down to wait for him. He + did not return. I made inquiries and found that he had left + the hotel at eight o'clock the previous evening. To cut the + matter short, ten days have now elapsed and he has not yet + returned. + + "I have been to the Embassy, to the police, and to the Morgue. + Nowhere have I found the slightest trace of him. No one seems + to take the least interest in his disappearance. The police + shrug their shoulders, and look at me as though I ought to + understand--he will return very shortly they are quite sure. + At the Embassy they have begun to look upon me as a nuisance. + The Morgue--Heaven send that I may one day forget the horror + of my hasty visits there. I have come to the conclusion, + Andrew, that I must search for him myself. How, I do not know; + where, I do not know. But I shall not leave Paris until I have + found him. + + "Andrew, what I want is a friend here. A few months ago I + should not have hesitated a moment to ask you to come to me. + To-day that is impossible. Your presence here would only be an + embarrassment to both of us. Do you know of any one who would + come? I have not a single relative whom I can ask to help me. + Would you advise me to write to Scotland Yard for a detective, + or go to one of these agencies? If not, can you think of any + one who would come here and help me, either for your sake as + your friend, or, better still, a detective who can speak + French and whom one can trust? All our lives Guy and I have + congratulated ourselves that we have no relation nearer than + India. I am finding out the other side of it now. + + "I know that you will do what you can for me, Andrew. Write to + me by return. + + + "Yours in great trouble and distress, + + "PHYLLIS POYNTON." + +She sealed and addressed her letter, and saw it despatched. Afterwards +she crossed the courtyard to the restaurant, and did her best to eat +some dinner. When she had finished it was only half-past eight. She rang +for the lift and ascended to the fourth floor. On her way down the +corridor a sudden thought struck her. She took a key from her pocket and +entered the room which her brother had occupied. + +His things were still lying about in some disorder, and neither of his +trunks was locked. She went down on her knees and calmly proceeded to go +through his belongings. It was rather a forlorn hope, but it seemed to +her just possible that there might be in some of his pockets a letter +which would throw light upon his disappearance. She found nothing of the +sort, however. There were picture postcards, a few photographs, and a +good many restaurant bills, but they were all from places in Germany and +Austria. At the bottom of the second trunk, however, she found something +which he had evidently considered it worth while to preserve carefully. +It was a thick sheet of official-looking paper, bearing at the top an +embossed crown, and covered with German writing. It was numbered at the +top "seventeen," and it was evidently an odd sheet of some document. She +folded it carefully up, and took it back with her to her own room. Then, +with the help of a German dictionary, she commenced to study it. At the +end of an hour she had made out a rough translation, which she read +carefully through. When she had finished she was thoroughly perplexed. +She had an uncomfortable sense of having come into touch with something +wholly unexpected and mysterious. + +"What am I to do?" she said to herself softly. + +"What can it mean? Where on earth can Guy--have found this?" + +There was no one to answer her, no one to advise. An overwhelming sense +of her own loneliness brought the tears into her eyes. She sat for some +time with her face buried in her hands. Then she rose up, calmly +destroyed her translation with minute care, and locked away the +mysterious sheet at the bottom of her dressing-bag. The more she thought +of it the less, after all, she felt inclined to connect it with his +disappearance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF + + +Monsieur Albert looked over her shoulder for the man who must surely be +in attendance--but he looked in vain. + +"Mademoiselle wishes a table--for herself alone!" he repeated +doubtfully. + +"If you please," she answered. + +It was obvious that Mademoiselle was of the class which does not +frequent night cafes alone, but after all that was scarcely Monsieur +Albert's concern. She came perhaps from that strange land of the free, +whose daughters had long ago kicked over the barriers of sex with the +same abandon that Mademoiselle Flossie would display the soles of her +feet a few hours later in their national dance. If she had chanced to +raise her veil no earthly persuasions on her part would have secured for +her the freedom of that little room, for Monsieur Albert's appreciation +of likeness was equal to his memory for faces. But it was not until she +was comfortably ensconced at a corner table, from which she had a good +view of the room, that she did so, and Monsieur Albert realized with a +philosophic shrug of the shoulders the error he had committed. + +Phyllis looked about her with some curiosity. It was too early for the +habitues of the place, and most of the tables were empty. The +scarlet-coated band were smoking cigarettes, and had not yet produced +their instruments. The conductor curled his black moustache and stared +hard at the beautiful young English lady, without, however, being able +to attract a single glance in return. One or two men also tried to +convey to her by smiles and glances the fact that her solitude need +continue no longer than she chose. The unattached ladies put their heads +together and discussed her with little peals of laughter. To all of +these things she remained indifferent. She ordered a supper which she +ate mechanically, and wine which she scarcely drank. All the while she +was considering. Now that she was here what could she do? Of whom was +she to make inquiries? She scanned the faces of the newcomers with a +certain grave curiosity which puzzled them. She neither invited nor +repelled notice. She remained entirely at her ease. + +Monsieur Albert, during one of his peregrinations round the room, passed +close to her table. She stopped him. + +"I trust that Mademoiselle is well served!" he remarked with a little +bow. + +"Excellently, I thank you," she answered. + +He would have passed on, but she detained him. + +"You have very many visitors here," she remarked. "Is it the same +always?" + +He smiled. + +"To-night," he declared, "it is nothing. There are many who come here +every evening. They amuse themselves here." + +"You have a good many strangers also?" she asked. + +"But certainly," he declared. "All the time!" + +"I have a brother," she said, "who was here eleven nights ago--let me +see--that would be last Tuesday week. He is tall and fair, about +twenty-one, and they say like me. I wonder if you remember him." + +Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly. + +"That is strange," he declared, "for as a rule I forget no one. Last +Tuesday week I remember perfectly well. It was a quiet evening. La Scala +was here--but of the rest no one. If Mademoiselle's brother was here it +is most strange." + +Her lip quivered for a moment. She was disappointed. + +"I am so sorry," she said. "I hoped that you might have been able to +help me. He left the Grand Hotel on that night with the intention of +coming here--and he never returned. I have been very much worried ever +since." + +She was no great judge of character, but Monsieur Albert's sympathy did +not impress her with its sincerity. + +"If Mademoiselle desires," he said, "I will make inquiries amongst the +waiters. I very much fear, however, that she will obtain no news here." + +He departed, and Phyllis watched him talking to some of the waiters and +the leader of the orchestra. + +Presently he returned. + +"I am very sorry," he announced, "but the brother of Mademoiselle could +not have come here. I have inquired of the garcons, and of Monsieur +Jules there, who forgets no one. They answer all the same." + +"Thank you very much," she answered. "It must have been somewhere else!" + +She was unreasonably disappointed. It had been a very slender chance, +but at least it was something tangible. She had scarcely expected to +have it snapped so soon and so thoroughly. She dropped her veil to hide +the tears which she felt were not far from her eyes, and summoned the +waiter for her bill. There seemed to be no object in staying longer. +Suddenly the unexpected happened. + +A hand, flashing with jewels, was rested for a moment upon her table. +When it was withdrawn a scrap of paper remained there. + +Phyllis looked up in amazement. The girl to whom the hand had belonged +was sitting at the next table, but her head was turned away, and she +seemed to be only concerned in watching the door. She drew the scrap of +paper towards her and cautiously opened it. This is what she read, +written in English, but with a foreign turn to most of the letters:-- + + "Monsieur Albert lied. Your brother was here. Wait till I + speak to you." + +Instinctively she crumpled up this strange little note in her hand. She +struggled hard to maintain her composure. She had at once the idea that +every one in the place was looking at her. Monsieur Albert, indeed, on +his way down the room wondered what had driven the hopeless expression +from her face. + +The waiter brought her bill. She paid it and tipped him with prodigality +which for a woman was almost reckless. Then she ordered coffee, and +after a second's hesitation cigarettes. Why not? Nearly all the women +were smoking, and she desired to pass for the moment as one of them. For +the first time she ventured to gaze at her neighbor. + +It was the young lady from Vienna. She was dressed in a wonderful +demi-toilette of white lace, and she wore a large picture hat adjusted +at exactly the right angle for her profile. From her throat and bosom +there flashed the sparkle of many gems--the finger which held her +cigarette was ablaze with diamonds. She leaned back in her seat smoking +lazily, and she met Phyllis's furtive gaze with almost insolent +coldness. But a moment later, when Monsieur Albert's back was turned, +she leaned forward and addressed her rapidly. + +"A man will come here," she said, "who could tell you, if he was +willing, all that you seek to know. He will come to-night--he comes all +the nights. You will see I hold my handkerchief so in my right hand. +When he comes I shall drop it--so!" + +The girl's swift speech, her half-fearful glances towards the door, +puzzled Phyllis. + +"Can you not come nearer to me and talk?" she asked. + +"No! You must not speak to me again. You must not let any one, +especially the man himself, know what I have told you. No more now. +Watch for the handkerchief!" + +"But what shall I say to him?" + +The girl took no notice of her. She was looking in the opposite +direction. She seemed to have edged away as far as possible from her. +Phyllis drew a long breath. + +She felt her heart beating with excitement. The place suddenly seemed to +her like part of a nightmare. + +And then all was clear again. Fortune was on her side. The secret of +Guy's disappearance was in this room, and a few careless words from the +girl at the next table had told her more than an entire police system +had been able to discover. But why the mystery? What was she to say to +the man when he came? The girl from Vienna was talking to some friends +and toying carelessly with a little morsel of lace which she had drawn +from her bosom. Phyllis watched it with the eyes of a cat. Every now +and then she watched also the door. + +The place was much fuller now. Mademoiselle Flossie had arrived with a +small company of friends from Maxim's. The music was playing all the +time. The popping of corks was almost incessant, the volume of sound had +swelled. The laughter and greeting of friends betrayed more abandon than +earlier in the evening. Old acquaintances had been renewed, and new ones +made. Mademoiselle from Vienna was surrounded by a little circle of +admirers. Still she held in her right hand a crumpled up little ball of +lace. + +Men passing down the room tried to attract the attention of the +beautiful young English demoiselle who looked out upon the little scene +so indifferently as regarded individuals, and yet with such eager +interest as a whole. No one was bold enough, however, to make a second +effort. Necessity at times gives birth to a swift capacity. Fresh from +her simple country life, Phyllis found herself still able with +effortless serenity to confound the most hardened boulevarders who +paused to ogle her. Her eyes and lips expressed with ease the most +convincing and absolute indifference to their approaches. A man may +sometimes brave anger; he rarely has courage to combat indifference. So +Phyllis held her own and waited. + +And at last the handkerchief fell. Phyllis felt her own heart almost +stop beating, as she gazed down the room. A man of medium height, dark, +distinguished, was slowly approaching her, exchanging greetings on every +side. His languid eyes fell upon Phyllis. Those who had watched her +previously saw then a change. The cold indifference had vanished from +her face. She leaned forward as though anxious to attract his +attention. She succeeded easily enough. + +He was almost opposite her table, and her half smile seemed to leave him +but little choice. He touched the back of the chair which fronted hers, +and took off his hat. + +"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked softly. + +"But certainly," she answered. "It is you for whom I have been waiting!" + +"Mademoiselle flatters me!" he murmured, more than a little astonished. + +"Not in the least," she answered. "I have been waiting to ask you what +has become of my brother--Guy Poynton!" + +He drew out the chair and seated himself. His eyes never left her face. + +"Mademoiselle," he murmured, "this is most extraordinary!" + +She noticed then that his hands were trembling. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT + + +"I am asking a great deal of you, George! I know it. But you see how +helpless I am--and read the letter--read it for yourself." + +He passed Phyllis's letter across the small round dining-table. His +guest took it and read it carefully through. + +"How old is the young lady?" he asked. + +"Twenty-three!" + +"And the boy?" + +"Twenty-one." + +"Orphans, I think you said?" + +"Orphans and relationless." + +"Well off?" + +"Moderately." + +Duncombe leaned back in his chair and sipped his port thoughtfully. + +"It is an extraordinary situation!" he remarked. + +"Extraordinary indeed," his friend assented. "But so far as I am +concerned you can see how I am fixed. I am older than either of them, +but I have always been their nearest neighbor and their most intimate +friend. If ever they have needed advice they have come to me for it. If +ever I have needed a day's shooting for myself or a friend I have gone +to them. This Continental tour of theirs we discussed and planned out, +months beforehand. If my misfortune had not come on just when it did I +should have gone with them, and even up to the last we hoped that I +might be able to go to Paris with Phyllis." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Tell me about the boy," he said. + +His host shrugged his shoulders. + +"You know what they're like at that age," he remarked. "He was at +Harrow, but he shied at college, and there was no one to insist upon his +going. The pair of them had only a firm of lawyers for guardians. He's +just a good-looking, clean-minded, high-spirited young fellow, full of +beans, and needing the bit every now and then. But, of course, he's no +different from the run of young fellows of his age, and if an adventure +came his way I suppose he'd see it through." + +"And the girl?" + +Andrew Pelham rose from his seat. + +"I will show you her photograph," he said. + +He passed into an inner room divided from the dining-room by curtains. +In a moment or two he reappeared. + +"Here it is!" he said, and laid a picture upon the table. + +Now Duncombe was a young man who prided himself a little on being +unimpressionable. He took up the picture with a certain tolerant +interest and examined it, at first without any special feeling. Yet in a +moment or two he felt himself grateful for those great disfiguring +glasses from behind which his host was temporarily, at least, blind to +all that passed. A curious disturbance seemed to have passed into his +blood. He felt his eyes brighten, and his breath come a little quicker, +as he unconsciously created in his imagination the living presentment +of the girl whose picture he was still holding. Tall she was, and slim, +with a soft, white throat, and long, graceful neck; eyes rather darker +than her complexion warranted, a little narrow, but bright as stars--a +mouth with the divine lines of humor and understanding. It was only a +picture, but a realization of the living image seemed to be creeping in +upon him. He made the excuse of seeking a better light, and moved across +to a distant lamp. He bent over the picture, but it was not the picture +which he saw. He saw the girl herself, and even with the half-formed +thought he saw her expression change. He saw her eyes lit with sorrow +and appeal--he saw her arms outstretched towards him--he seemed even to +hear her soft cry. He knew then what his answer would be to his friend's +prayer. He thought no more of the excuses which he had been building in +his mind; of all the practical suggestions which he had been prepared to +make. Common-sense died away within him. The matter-of-fact man of +thirty was ready to tread in the footsteps of this great predecessor, +and play the modern knight-errant with the whole-heartedness of Don +Quixote himself. He fancied himself by her side, and his heart leaped +with joy of it. He thought no more of abandoned cricket matches and +neglected house parties. A finger of fire had been laid upon his +somewhat torpid flesh and blood. + +"Well?" Andrew asked. + +Duncombe returned to the table, and laid the picture down with a +reluctance which he could scarcely conceal. + +"Very nice photograph," he remarked. "Taken locally?" + +"I took it myself," Andrew answered. "I used to be rather great at that +sort of thing before--before my eyes went dicky." + +Duncombe resumed his seat. He helped himself to another glass of wine. + +"I presume," he said, "from the fact that you call yourself their +nearest friend, that the young lady is not engaged?" + +"No," Andrew answered slowly. "She is not engaged." + +Something a little different in his voice caught his friend's attention. +Duncombe eyed him keenly. He was conscious of a sense of apprehension. +He leaned over the table. + +"Do you mean, Andrew----?" he asked hoarsely. "Do you mean----?" + +"Yes, I mean that," his friend answered quietly. "Nice sort of old fool, +am I not? I'm twelve years older than she is, I'm only moderately well +off and less than moderately good-looking. But after all I'm only human, +and I've seen her grow up from a fresh, charming child into one of God's +wonderful women. Even a gardener, you know, George, loves the roses he +has planted and watched over. I've taught her a little and helped her a +little, and I've watched her cross the borderland." + +"Does she know?" + +Andrew shook his head doubtfully. + +"I think," he said, "that she was beginning to guess. Three months ago I +should have spoken--but my trouble came. I didn't mean to tell you this, +but perhaps it is as well that you should know. You can understand now +what I am suffering. To think of her there alone almost maddens me." + +Duncombe rose suddenly from his seat. + +"Come out into the garden, Andrew," he said. "I feel stifled here." + +His host rose and took Duncombe's arm. They passed out through the +French window on to the gravel path which circled the cedar-shaded lawn. +A shower had fallen barely an hour since, and the air was full of fresh +delicate fragrance. Birds were singing in the dripping trees, blackbirds +were busy in the grass. The perfume from the wet lilac shrubs was a very +dream of sweetness. Andrew pointed across a park which sloped down to +the garden boundary. + +"Up there, amongst the elm trees, George," he said, "can you see a gleam +of white? That is the Hall, just to the left of the rookery." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "I can see it." + +"Guy and she walked down so often after dinner," he said quietly. "I +have stood here and watched them. Sometimes she came alone. What a long +time ago that seems!" + +Duncombe's grip upon his arm tightened. + +"Andrew," he said, "I can't go!" + +There was a short silence. Andrew stood quite still. All around them was +the soft weeping of dripping shrubs. An odorous whiff from the walled +rose-garden floated down the air. + +"I'm sorry, George! It's a lot to ask you, I know." + +"It isn't that!" + +Andrew turned his head toward his friend. The tone puzzled him. + +"I don't understand." + +"No wonder, old fellow! I don't understand myself." + +There was another short silence. Andrew stood with his almost sightless +eyes turned upon his friend, and Duncombe was looking up through the elm +trees to the Hall. He was trying to fancy her as she must have appeared +to this man who dwelt alone, walking down the meadow in the evening. + +"No," he repeated softly, "I don't understand myself. You've known me +for a long time, Andrew. You wouldn't write me down as altogether a +sentimental ass, would you?" + +"I should not, George. I should never even use the word 'sentimental' in +connection with you." + +Duncombe turned and faced him squarely. He laid his hands upon his +friend's shoulders. + +"Old man," he said, "here's the truth. So far as a man can be said to +have lost his heart without rhyme or reason, I've lost mine to the girl +of that picture." + +Andrew drew a quick breath. + +"Rubbish, George!" he exclaimed. "Why, you never saw her. You don't know +her!" + +"It is quite true," Duncombe answered. "And yet--I have seen her +picture." + +His friend laughed queerly. + +"You, George Duncombe, in love with a picture. Stony-hearted George, we +used to call you. I can't believe it! I can't take you seriously. It's +all rot, you know, isn't it! It must be rot!" + +"It sounds like it," Duncombe answered quietly. "Put it this way, if you +like. I have seen a picture of the woman whom, if ever I meet, I most +surely shall love. What there is that speaks to me from that picture I +do not know. You say that only love can beget love. Then there is that +in the picture which points beyond. You see, I have talked like this in +an attempt to be honest. You have told me that you care for her. +Therefore I have told you these strange things. Now do you wish me to go +to Paris, for if you say yes I shall surely go!" + +Again Andrew laughed, and this time his mirth sounded more natural. + +"Let me see," he said. "We drank Pontet Canet for dinner. You refused +liqueurs, but I think you drank two glasses of port. George, what has +come over you? What has stirred your slow-moving blood to fancies like +these? Bah! We are playing with one another. Listen! For the sake of our +friendship, George, I beg you to grant me this great favor. Go to Paris +to-morrow and help Phyllis!" + +"You mean it?" + +"God knows I do. If ever I took you seriously, George--if ever I feared +to lose the woman I love--well, I should be a coward for my own sake to +rob her of help when she needs it so greatly. Be her friend, George, and +mine. For the rest the fates must provide!" + +"The fates!" Duncombe answered. "Ay, it seems to me that they have been +busy about my head to-night. It is settled, then. I will go!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE VANISHING LADY + + +At precisely half-past nine on the following evening Duncombe alighted +from his _petite voiture_ in the courtyard of the Grand Hotel, and +making his way into the office engaged a room. And then he asked the +question which a hundred times on the way over he had imagined himself +asking. A man to whom nervousness in any shape was almost unknown, he +found himself only able to control his voice and manner with the +greatest difficulty. In a few moments he might see her. + +"You have a young English lady--Miss Poynton--staying here, I believe," +he said. "Can you tell me if she is in now?" + +The clerk looked at him with sudden interest. + +"Miss Poynton is staying here, sir," he said. "I do not believe that she +is in just now. Will you wait one moment?" + +He disappeared rapidly, and was absent for several minutes. When he +returned he came out into the reception hall. + +"The manager would be much obliged if you would step into his office for +a moment, sir," he said confidentially. "Will you come this way?" + +Duncombe followed him into a small room behind the counter. A +gray-haired man rose from his desk and saluted him courteously. + +"Sir George Duncombe, I believe," he said. "Will you kindly take a +seat?" + +Duncombe did as he was asked. All the time he felt that the manager was +scrutinizing him curiously. + +"Your clerk," he said, "told me that you wished to speak to me." + +"Exactly!" the manager answered. "You inquired when you came in for Miss +Poynton. May I ask--are you a friend of hers?" + +"I am here on behalf of her friends," Duncombe answered. "I have letters +to her." + +The manager bowed gravely. + +"I trust," he said, "that you will soon have an opportunity to deliver +them. We are not, of course, responsible in any way for the conduct or +doings of our clients here, but I am bound to say that both the young +people of the name you mention have been the cause of much anxiety to +us." + +"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked quickly. + +"Mr. Guy Poynton," the manager continued, "arrived here about three +weeks ago, and took a room for himself and one for his sister, who was +to arrive on the following day. He went out that same evening, and has +never since returned. Of that fact you are no doubt aware." + +Duncombe nodded impatiently. + +"Yes!" he said. "That is why I am here." + +"His sister arrived on the following day, and was naturally very +distressed. We did all that we could for her. We put her in the way of +communicating with the police and the Embassy here, and we gave her +every assistance that was possible. Four nights ago Mademoiselle went +out late. Since then we have seen nothing of her. Mademoiselle also has +disappeared." + +Duncombe sprang to his feet. He was suddenly pale. + +"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Four nights ago! She went out alone, you +say?" + +"How else? She had no friends here. Once or twice at my suggestion she +had taken one of our guides with her, but she discontinued this as she +fancied that it made her conspicuous. She was all the time going round +to places making inquiries about her brother." + +Duncombe felt himself suddenly precipitated into a new world--a +nightmare of horrors. He was no stranger in the city, and grim +possibilities unfolded themselves before his eyes. Four nights ago! + +"You have sent--to the police?" + +"Naturally. But in Paris--Monsieur must excuse me if I speak plainly--a +disappearance of this sort is never regarded seriously by them. You know +the life here without doubt, Monsieur! Your accent proves that you are +well acquainted with the city. No doubt their conclusions are based upon +direct observation, and in most cases are correct--but it is very +certain that Monsieur the Superintendent regards such disappearances as +these as due to one cause only." + +Duncombe frowned, and something flashed in his eyes which made the +manager very glad that he had not put forward this suggestion on his own +account. + +"With regard to the boy," he said, "this might be likely enough. But +with regard to the young lady it is of course wildly preposterous. I +will go to the police myself," he added, rising. + +"One moment, Sir George," the manager continued. "The disappearance of +the young lady was a source of much trouble to me, and I made all +possible inquiries within the hotel. I found that on the day of her +disappearance Mademoiselle had been told by one of the attendants in +the barber's shop, who had waited upon her brother on the night of his +arrival, that he--Monsieur Guy--had asked for the name of some cafes for +supper, and that he had recommended Cafe Montmartre. Mademoiselle +appears to have decided to go there herself to make inquiries. We have +no doubt that when she left the hotel on the night of her disappearance +it was to there that she went." + +"You have told the police this?" + +"Yes, I have told them," the manager answered dryly. "Here is their +latest report, if you care to see it." + +Duncombe took the little slip of paper and read it hastily. + + "Disappearance of Mademoiselle Poynton, from England.--We + regret to state no trace has been discovered of the missing + young lady. + + "(Signed) JULES LEGARDE, Superintendent." + +"That was only issued a few hours ago," the manager said. + +"And I thought," Duncombe said bitterly, "that the French police were +the best in the world!" + +The manager said nothing. Duncombe rose from his chair. + +"I shall go myself to the Cafe Montmartre," he said. The manager bowed. + +"I shall be glad," he said, "to divest myself of any further +responsibility in this matter. It has been a source of much anxiety to +the directors as well as myself." + +Duncombe walked out of the room, and putting on his coat again called +for a _petite voiture_. He gave the man the address in the Rue St. +Honore and was driven to a block of flats there over some shops. + +"Is Monsieur Spencer in?" he asked the concierge. He was directed to the +first floor. An English man-servant admitted him, and a few moments +later he was shaking hands with a man who was seated before a table +covered with loose sheets of paper. + +"Duncombe, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. +"Why, I thought that you had shaken the dust of the city from your feet +forever, and turned country squire. Sit down! What will you have?" + +"First of all, am I disturbing you?" + +Spencer shook his head. + +"I've no Press work to-night," he answered. "I've a clear hour to give +you at any rate. When did you come?" + +"Two-twenty from Charing Cross," Duncombe answered. "I can't tell you +how thankful I am to find you in, Spencer. I'm over on a very serious +matter, and I want your advice." + +Spencer touched the bell. Cigars and cigarettes, whisky and soda, +appeared as though by magic. + +"Now help yourself and go ahead, old chap," his host declared. "I'm a +good listener." + +He proved himself so, sitting with half-closed eyes and an air of close +attention until he had heard the whole story. He did not once interrupt, +but when Duncombe had finished he asked a question. + +"What did you say was the name of this cafe where the boy had +disappeared?" + +"Cafe Montmartre." + +Spencer sat up in his chair. His expression had changed. + +"The devil!" he murmured softly. + +"You know the place?" + +"Very well. It has an extraordinary reputation. I am sorry to say it, +Duncombe, but it is a very bad place for your friend to have disappeared +from." + +"Why?" + +"In the first place it is the resort of a good many of the most +dangerous people in Europe--people who play the game through to the end. +It is a perfect hot-bed of political intrigue, and it is under police +protection." + +"Police protection! A place like that!" Duncombe exclaimed. + +"Not as you and I understand it, perhaps," Spencer explained. "There is +no Scotland Yard extending a protecting arm over the place, and that +sort of thing. But the place is haunted by spies, and there are +intrigues carried on there in which the secret service police often take +a hand. In return it is generally very hard to get to the bottom of any +disappearance or even robbery there through the usual channels. To the +casual visitor, and of course it attracts thousands from its reputation, +it presents no more dangers perhaps than the ordinary night cafe of its +sort. But I could think of a dozen men in Paris to-day, who, if they +entered it, I honestly believe would never be seen again." + +Spencer was exaggerating, Duncombe murmured to himself. He was a +newspaper correspondent, and he saw these things with the halo of +melodrama around them. And yet--four nights ago. His face was white and +haggard. + +"The boy," he said, "could have been no more than an ordinary visitor. +He had no great sum of money with him, he had no secrets, he did not +even speak the language. Surely he would have been too small fry for the +intriguers of such a place!" + +"One would think so," Spencer answered musingly. "You are sure that he +was only what you say?" + +"He was barely twenty-one," Duncombe answered, "and he had never been +out of England before." + +"What about the girl?" + +"She is two years older. It was her first visit to Paris." Spencer +nodded. + +"The disappearance of the boy is of course the riddle," he remarked. "If +you solve that you arrive also at his sister's whereabouts. Upon my +word, it is a poser. If it had been the boy alone--well, one could +understand. The most beautiful ladies in Paris are at the Montmartre. No +one is admitted who is not what they consider--chic! The great dancers +and actresses are given handsome presents to show themselves there. On a +representative evening it is probably the most brilliant little roomful +in Europe. The boy of course might have lost his head easily enough, and +then been ashamed to face his sister. But when you tell me of her +disappearance, too, you confound me utterly. Is she good-looking?" + +"Very!" + +"She would go there, of course, asking for her brother," Spencer +continued thoughtfully. "An utterly absurd thing to do, but no doubt she +did, and--look here, Duncombe, I tell you what I'll do. I have my own +two news-grabbers at hand, and nothing particular for them to do this +evening. I'll send them up to the Cafe Montmartre." + +"It's awfully good of you, Spencer. I was going myself," Duncombe said, +a little doubtfully. + +"You idiot!" his friend said cheerfully, yet with a certain emphasis. +"English from your hair to your boots, you'd go in there and attempt to +pump people who have been playing the game all their lives, and who +would give you exactly what information suited their books. They'd know +what you were there for, the moment you opened your mouth. Honestly, +what manner of good do you think that you could do? You'd learn what +they chose to tell you. If there's really anything serious behind all +this, do you suppose it would be the truth?" + +"You're quite right, I suppose," Duncombe admitted, "but it seems +beastly to be doing nothing." + +"Better be doing nothing than doing harm!" Spencer declared. "Look round +the other cafes and the boulevards. And come here at eleven to-morrow +morning. We'll breakfast together at Paillard's." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE + + +Spencer wrote out his luncheon with the extreme care of the man to whom +eating has passed to its proper place amongst the arts, and left to +Duncombe the momentous question of red wine or white. Finally, he leaned +back in his chair, and looked thoughtfully across at his companion. + +"Sir George," he said, "you have placed me in a very painful position." + +Duncombe glanced up from his _hors d'oeuvre_. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I will explain," Spencer continued. "You came to me last night with a +story in which I hope that I showed a reasonable amount of interest, but +in which, as a matter of fact, I was not interested at all. Girls and +boys who come to Paris for the first time in their lives unattended, and +find their way to the Cafe Montmartre, and such places, generally end up +in the same place. It would have sounded brutal if I had added to your +distress last night by talking like this, so I determined to put you in +the way of finding out for yourself. I sent two of my most successful +news-scouts to that place last night, and I had not the slightest doubt +as to the nature of the information which they would bring back. It +turns out that I was mistaken." + +"What did they discover?" Duncombe asked eagerly. + +"Nothing!" + +Duncombe's face fell, but he looked a little puzzled. + +"Nothing? I don't understand. They must have heard that they had been +there anyhow." + +"They discovered nothing. You do not understand the significance of +this. I do! It means that I was mistaken for one thing. Their +disappearance has more in it than the usual significance. Evil may have +come to them, but not the ordinary sort of evil. Listen! You say that +the police have disappointed you in having discovered nothing. That is +no longer extraordinary to me. The police, or those who stand behind +them, are interested in this case, and in the withholding of information +concerning it." + +"You are talking riddles to me, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "Do you +mean that the police in Paris may become the hired tools of +malefactors?" + +"Not altogether that," Spencer said, waving aside a dish presented +before him by the head waiter himself with a gesture of approval. "Not +necessarily malefactors. But there are other powers to be taken into +consideration, and most unaccountably your two friends are in deeper +water than your story led me to expect. Now, not another question, +please, until you have tried that sauce. Absolute silence, if you +please, for at least three or four minutes." + +Duncombe obeyed with an ill grace. He had little curiosity as to its +flavor, and a very small appetite at all with the conversation in its +present position. He waited for the stipulated time, however, and then +leaned once more across the table. + +"Spencer!" + +"First I must have your judgment upon the sauce. Did you find enough +mussels?" + +"Damn the sauce!" Duncombe answered. "Forgive me, Spencer, but this +affair is, after all, a serious one to me. You say that your two scouts, +as you call them, discovered nothing. Well, they had only one evening at +it. Will they try again in other directions? Can I engage them to work +for me? Money is absolutely no object." + +Spencer shook his head. + +"Duncombe," he said, "you're going to think me a poor sort of friend, +but the truth is best. You must not count upon me any more. I cannot +lift even my little finger to help you. I can only give you advice if +you want it." + +"And that?" + +"Go back to England to-morrow. Chuck it altogether. You are up against +too big a combination. You can do no one any good. You are a great deal +more likely to come to harm yourself." + +Duncombe was quite quiet for several moments. When he spoke again his +manner had a new stiffness. + +"You have surprised me a good deal, I must confess, Spencer. We will +abandon the subject." + +Spencer shrugged his shoulders. + +"I know how you're feeling, old chap," he said. "I can't help it. You +understand my position here. I write a daily letter for the best paying +and most generous newspaper in the world, and it is absolutely necessary +that I keep hand in glove with the people in high places here. My +position absolutely demands it, and my duty to my chief necessitates my +putting all personal feeling on one side in a case like this when a +conflict arises." + +"But where," Duncombe asked, "does the conflict arise?" + +"Here!" Spencer answered. "I received a note this morning from a great +personage in this country to whom I am under more obligation than any +other breathing man, requesting me to refrain from making any further +inquiries or assisting any one else to make them in this matter. I can +assure you that I was thunderstruck, but the note is in my pocket at the +present moment." + +"Does it mention them by name?" + +"The exact words are," Spencer answered, "'respecting the reported +disappearance of the young Englishman, Mr. Guy Poynton, and his sister.' +This will just show you how much you have to hope for from the police, +for the person whose signature is at the foot of that note could command +the implicit obedience of the whole system." + +Duncombe's cheeks were a little flushed. He was British to the backbone, +and his obstinacy was being stirred. + +"The more reason," he said quietly, "so far as I can see, that I should +continue my independent efforts with such help as I can secure. This +girl and boy are fellow country-people, and I haven't any intention of +leaving them in the clutches of any brutal gang of Frenchmen into whose +hands they may have got. I shall go on doing what I can, Spencer." + +The journalist shrugged his shoulders. + +"I can't help sympathizing with you, Duncombe," he said, "but keep +reasonable. You know your Paris well enough to understand that you +haven't a thousand to one chance. Besides, Frenchmen are not brutal. If +the boy got into a scrape, it was probably his own fault." + +"And the girl? What of her? Am I to leave her to the tender mercies of +whatever particular crew of blackguards may have got her into their +power?" + +"You are needlessly melodramatic," Spencer answered. "I will admit, of +course, that her position may be an unfortunate one, but the personage +whom I have the honor to call my friend does not often protect +blackguards. Be reasonable, Duncombe! These young people are not +relatives of yours, are they?" + +"No!" + +"Nor very old friends? The young lady, for instance?" + +Duncombe looked up, and his face was set in grim and dogged lines. He +felt like a man who was nailing his colors to the mast. + +"The young lady," he said, "is, I pray Heaven, my future wife!" + +Spencer was honestly amazed, and a little shocked. + +"Forgive me, Duncombe," he said. "I had no idea--though perhaps I ought +to have guessed." + +They went on with their luncheon in silence for some time, except for a +few general remarks. But after the coffee had been brought and the +cigarettes were alight, Spencer leaned once more across the table. + +"Tell me, Duncombe, what you mean to do." + +"I shall go to the Cafe Montmartre myself to-night. At such a place +there must be hangers-on and parasites who see something of the game. I +shall try to come into touch with them. I am rich enough to outbid the +others who exact their silence." + +"You must be rich enough to buy their lives then," Spencer answered +gravely, "for if you do succeed in tempting any one to betray the inner +happenings of that place on which the seal of silence has been put, you +will hear of them in the Morgue before a fortnight has passed." + +"They must take their risk," Duncombe said coldly. "I am going to stuff +my pockets with money to-night, and I shall bid high. I shall leave word +at the hotel where I am going. If anything happens to me there--well, I +don't think the Cafe Montmartre will flourish afterwards." + +"Duncombe," his friend said gravely, "nothing will happen to you at the +Cafe Montmartre. Nothing ever does happen to any one there. You remember +poor De Laurson?" + +"Quite well. He was stabbed by a girl in the Rue Pigalle." + +"He was stabbed in the Cafe Montmartre, but his body was found in the +Rue Pigalle. Then there was the Vicomte de Sauvinac." + +"He was found dead in his study--poisoned." + +"He was found there--yes, but the poison was given to him in the Cafe +Montmartre, and it was there that he died. I am behind the scenes in +some of these matters, but I know enough to hold my tongue, or my London +letter wouldn't be worth a pound a week. I am giving myself away to you +now, Duncombe. I am risking a position which it has taken me twenty +years to secure. I've got to tell you these things, and you must do as I +tell you. Go back to London!" + +Duncombe laughed as he rose to his feet. + +"Not though the Vicomte's fate is to be mine to-night," he answered. +"The worse hell this place is the worse the crew it must shelter. I +should never hold my head up again if I sneaked off home and left the +girl in their hands. I don't see how you can even suggest it." + +"Only because you can't do the least good," Spencer answered. "And +besides, don't run away with a false impression. The place is dangerous +only for certain people. The authorities don't protect murderers or +thieves except under special circumstances. The Vicomte's murderer and +De Laurson's were brought to justice. Only they keep the name of the +place out of it always. Tourists in shoals visit it, and visit safely +every evening. They pay fancy prices for what they have, but I think +they get their money's worth. But for certain classes of people it is +the decoy house of Europe. Foreign spies have babbled away their secrets +there, and the greatest criminals of the world have whispered away their +lives to some fair daughter of Judas at those tables. I, who am behind +the scenes, tell you these things, Duncombe." + +Duncombe smiled. + +"To-morrow," he said, "you may add another victim to your chamber of +horrors!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DUNCOMBE'S "HOLD-UP" + + +The amber wine fell in a little wavering stream from his upraised glass +on to the table-cloth below. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at +his three guests with a fatuous smile. The girl in blue, with the +dazzlingly fair hair and wonderful complexion, steadied his hand and +exchanged a meaning look with the man who sat opposite. Surely the poor +fool was ready for the plucking? But Madame, who sat beside her, frowned +upon them both. She had seen things which had puzzled her. She signed to +them to wait. + +She leaned over and flashed her great black eyes upon him. + +"Monsieur enjoys himself like this every night in Paris?" + +A soft, a very seductive, voice. The woman who envied her success +compared it to the purring of a cat. Men as a rule found no fault with +it, especially those who heard it for the first time. + +Duncombe set down his glass, now almost empty. He looked from the stain +on the table-cloth into the eyes of Madame, and again she thought them +very unlike the eyes of a drunken man. + +"Why not? It's the one city in the world to enjoy one's self in. +Half-past four, and here we are as jolly as anything. Chucked out of +everywhere in London at half-past twelve. 'Time, gentlemen, please!' +And out go the lights. Jove, I wonder what they'd think of this at the +Continental! Let's--let's have another bottle." + +The fair-haired girl--Flossie to her friends, Mademoiselle Mermillon +until you had been introduced--whispered in his ear. He shook his head +vaguely. She had her arm round his neck. He removed it gently. + +"We'll have another here first anyhow," he declared. "Hi, Garcon! Ring +the bell, there's a good chap, Monsieur--dash it, I've forgotten your +name. No, don't move. I'll do it myself." + +He rose and staggered towards the door. + +"The bell isn't that way, Monsieur," Madame exclaimed. "It is to the +right. Louis, quick!" + +Monsieur Louis sprang to his feet. There was a queer grating little +sound, followed by a sharp click. Duncombe had swung round and faced +them. He had turned the key in the door, and was calmly pocketing it. +The hand which held that small shining revolver was certainly not the +hand of a drunken man. + +They all three looked at him in wonder--Madame, Monsieur Louis, and +Mademoiselle Flossie. The dark eyebrows of Madame almost met, and her +eyes were full of the promise of evil things. Monsieur Louis, cowering +back from that steadily pointed revolver, was white with the inherited +cowardice of the degenerate. Flossie, who had drunk more wine than any +of them, was trying to look as though it were a joke. Duncombe, with his +disordered evening clothes, his stained shirt-front and errant tie, was +master of the situation. He came and stood a few feet away from them. +His blundering French accent and slow choice of words had departed. He +spoke to them without hesitation, and his French was almost as good as +their own. + +"I want you to keep your places," he said, "and listen to me for a few +minutes. I can assure you I am neither mad nor drunk. I have a few +questions to ask you, and if your answers are satisfactory you may yet +find my acquaintance as profitable as though I had been the pigeon I +seemed. Keep your seat, Monsieur le Baron!" + +Monsieur Louis, who had half risen, sat down again hastily. They all +watched him from their places around the table. It was Madame whom he +addressed more directly--Madame with the jet black hair and golden +earrings, the pale cheeks and scarlet lips. + +"I invited you into a private room here," he said, "because what I have +said to you three is between ourselves alone. You came, I presume, +because it promised to be profitable. All that I want from you is +information. And for that I am willing to pay." + +Monsieur Louis interposed. He stroked his little black moustache with a +much beringed hand. With the other he gesticulated. + +"Monsieur talks reasonably," he declared, "but why all this mystery? Why +this feigned drunkenness? Why the show of arms? If we can help +Monsieur--it is an affair of pleasure, and if he chooses to make a +present to these ladies in return--why, no doubt they will be charmed. +Me, I presume, he has no intention to insult. Permit me, Monsieur." + +He drew a card from a small gold case, and presented it to Duncombe, who +accepted it with a little bow. + +"If I can aid you in any way," Monsieur Louis continued, "I am entirely +at your service, but I require first of all that in addressing us you +recognize my position as a French nobleman, who amuses himself in this +place as you, Monsieur, also do, and also that you unlock that door." + +Duncombe smiled quietly. + +"Monsieur le Baron," he said, "I think that we are very well as we +are--secure from interruption. I have sent others here on this same +mission, and they did not succeed. Both of these ladies, I believe, have +been approached for the information I desire, and they have thought well +to withhold it. I have set my heart upon success this time, and I wish +to secure at least the opportunity of being heard." + +Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders. + +"There are secrets," he murmured; "affairs of honor----" + +Duncombe interrupted him. + +"Monsieur Louis," he said, "I am not so young as I look, and I have +lived in Paris. I know that this cafe, for all its outward smartness, +bears perhaps the worst reputation in Europe. I have heard of you three +many times--the 'Trinity from Hell,' they call you sometimes, I think. +You see I know where I am and the risk I run. Even this little room has +its secrets--a murder or two, I believe, and other things--secrets which +I don't suppose there is gold enough in France to buy. Well, I don't +want to buy them. You can go your way so far as I am concerned. There is +only one thing I want to know from you, and for that I offer you--the +ladies, of course, I mean--five thousand francs each." + +"Five thousand francs!" Madame murmured. + +Mademoiselle Flossie said nothing, but her eyes shone. + +"The question, Monsieur?" + +"What has become of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton, the young English +lady?" + +The eyes of Madame seemed to narrow for a moment. Monsieur Louis lit a +cigarette with fingers which shook a little, and the fair face of +Mademoiselle Flossie was suddenly white. Then they all three looked at +one another. + +"Do you know whom Monsieur may mean?" + +"Not I!" + +"An English girl! There are none come here." + +"Mademoiselle Poynton! It is a name unheard of." + +The young Englishman smiled upon them grimly. + +"Madame," he said, "you have in your satchel--don't move, if you +please--a roll of French notes--indeed you must not move--very cleverly +abstracted from my pocket by my charming young companion, Mademoiselle +Flossie here. Now I have at least half a dozen friends in the cafe below +whom I could summon here by touching that bell, and the identification +of those notes would be a perfectly simple matter. Shall I do it? Or +will you earn another roll by giving me the information I seek?" + +Madame leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear. Monsieur Louis +nodded. + +"Tell him," Mademoiselle Flossie murmured tremulously. "Monsieur will +not break faith with us. He will not let it be known from whence he +gained the knowledge." + +"Agreed!" the young Englishman declared. "Go on." + +Madame held up her hand. + +"I," she said, "will tell Monsieur what we know." + +She rose to her feet and leaned over the table. The blue-black sequins +on her dress glittered and shone in the dull light. Her figure was +superb, her neck and bosom a flawless white. The Englishman, however, +was unmoved. His keen gray eyes were fixed upon her, but the revolver +remained in his right hand. From downstairs they could hear the music of +violins, the rattle of glasses, the hum of voices and laughter. Madame +frowned slightly as she marked the young Englishman's alertness. She was +used to victims, and his imperturbability annoyed her. + +"I trust," she said, "that you will remember, Monsieur, that I am +breaking a pledged word. If Monsieur the Director here knew that I was +telling you of Mademoiselle Poynton there would be much trouble for all +of us." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Go on," he said. + +"Mademoiselle came here first about a month or perhaps six weeks ago," +she said. "From that time on she was a regular visitor. She came alone. +She spoke to no one. She was always a mystery. She was very handsomely +dressed--for an English girl, quite chic! She spent money, and Monsieur +Albert the director kept always a table for her. As time went on we +began to feel the mystery. We asked ourselves for what purpose does she +come here? For what, indeed! + +"One night Monsieur Albert, who was always besieged with questions about +her, took too much wine. I have seen that happen with him but +once--since that time never. He told us about Mademoiselle. She made +some inquiries about her brother, and Monsieur Albert was able to tell +her his whereabouts. After that he scarcely expected to see her again, +but the next night she was here also. + +"Then Monsieur Albert learned more. Mademoiselle was in a small way an +artist, and she had conceived the idea of painting a picture of the +cafe--an early morning picture of effects, Monsieur understands. There +was to be the morning sunlight streaming across the supper-tables, the +faces of all of us aged and haggard. Monsieur Louis here, without doubt, +a very child of the devil! Oh, a very moral picture, Monsieur. It was to +convert us all. Monsieur Albert declared that he would arrange to have +it here on exhibition, and we should all mend our ways. Monsieur knew +perhaps that the young lady was an artist?" + +The question was flashed suddenly upon him as though the intention was +to take him by surprise. Duncombe, however, remained unmoved. + +"I am here, Madame, to ask, not to answer, questions," he said. "Will +you kindly proceed? I am greatly interested." + +Madame put her hand to her throat for a moment as though to loosen her +necklace. She had not the appearance of being greatly in love with her +questioner. + +"There came a night," she continued, "when Mademoiselle broke through +her rule. A man came in and sat at her table. His name was the Vicomte +D'Aubarde, and he was known to most of us, though to the young lady he +appeared to be a stranger. They talked earnestly for an hour or more. +When she left--he accompanied her!" + +The Englishman had grown paler. Madame saw it and smiled. Her lover +perhaps! It was good to make him suffer. + +"Flossie here," she continued, "was outside, and saw them depart. They +drove off together in the Vicomte's coupe. They were apparently on the +best of terms. Since then we have not seen her again--nor the Vicomte. +Monsieur knows now as much as we know." + +"And how long ago is that?" Duncombe asked quietly. + +"A week to-night," Madame replied. + +Duncombe laid down a roll of notes upon the table. + +"I wish," he said, "to prove to you that I am in earnest. I am therefore +going to pay you the amount I promised, although I am perfectly well +aware that the story of Madame is--false!" + +"Monsieur!" + +"As I remarked," he repeated, "false. Now listen to me. I want to tempt +one of you, I don't care which, to break through this thieves' compact +of yours. I have paid a thousand francs for lies--I will pay ten +thousand francs for truth! Ten thousand francs for the present +whereabouts of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton!" + +Mademoiselle Flossie looked up at him quickly. Then she glanced +furtively at Madame, and the flash of Madame's eyes was like lightning +upon blue steel. Duncombe moved towards the door. + +"I will pay the bill downstairs," he said. "Good night! Think over what +I have said. Ten thousand francs!" + +Monsieur Louis stood up and bowed stiffly. Mademoiselle Flossie +ventured to throw him a kiss. Madame smiled inscrutably. + +The door closed. They heard him go downstairs. Madame picked up his card +and read aloud. + + Sir George Duncombe, + Risley Hall, + Norfolk. + + Grand Hotel, Paris. + +"If one could only," Madame murmured, "tell him the truth, collect the +money--and----" + +"And," Flossie murmured, half fearfully. + +Monsieur le Baron smiled! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE STORY OF A CALL + + +Mademoiselle Mermillon was not warmly welcomed at the Grand Hotel. The +porter believed that Sir George Duncombe was out. He would inquire, if +Mademoiselle would wait, but he did not usher her into the drawing-room, +as would have been his duty in an ordinary case, or even ask her to take +a seat. + +Mademoiselle Mermillon was of the order of young person who resents, but +this afternoon she was far too nervous. During the porter's temporary +absence she started at every footstep, and scrutinized anxiously every +passer-by. Often she looked behind her through the glass doors into the +street. When at last he reappeared alone her disappointment was obvious. + +"Sir George Duncombe is out, Mademoiselle," he announced. "Will you be +pleased to leave a message, or your name?" + +"You do not know how long he will be?" she inquired. + +"Sir George left no word," the man answered. "He has been out since +before _dejeuner_." + +Mademoiselle decided to leave a note. The porter supplied her with +notepaper and envelopes. She sat down at a small round table, and once +more glanced furtively around. Convinced that she was not being watched, +she hastily wrote a few lines, sealed and addressed the envelope, and +handed it to the porter. + +"You will give this to Sir George immediately he returns," she begged. +"It is important." + +"Monsieur shall have it without doubt, Mademoiselle," the man answered. + +She pulled down her veil and left the place hurriedly. When she reached +the boulevard she slackened her pace, and drew a little breath of +relief. + +"Ten thousand francs!" she murmured to herself. "If I took that with me +they would receive me at home. I might start all over again. It is worth +a little risk. Heavens, how nervous I am!" + +She entered a cafe and drank _a petit verre_. As she set her glass down +a man looked at her over the top of his newspaper. She tried to smile, +but her heart was beating, and she was sick with fear. + +"What a fool I am!" she muttered. "It is a stranger, too. If he were one +of Gustav's lot I should know him." + +She returned his smile, and he came and sat down beside her. They had +another liqueur. Later they left the place together. + + * * * * * + +Duncombe returned to his hotel tired out after a disappointing day spent +in making fruitless inquiries in various parts of Paris. He had learnt +nothing. He seemed as far off the truth as ever. He opened the note +which the porter handed him listlessly enough. Afterwards, however, it +was different. This is what he read:-- + + "I can tell you about the young English lady if you will + promise upon your honor that you will not betray me. I dare + not come here again. I dare not even speak to you while the + others are about. Go to the Cafe Sylvain to-night and order + dinner in a private room. I will come at half-past + seven.--FLOSSIE." + +Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief. At last then he was to know +something. He was very English, a bad amateur detective, and very weary +of his task. Nothing but his intense interest in the girl herself--an +interest which seemed to have upset the whole tenor of his life--would +have kept him here plodding so relentlessly away at a task which seemed +daily to present more difficulties and complications. Yet so absorbed +had he become that the ordinary duties and pleasures which made up the +routine of his life scarcely ever entered into his mind. There had been +men coming down to shoot, whom in an ordinary way he would not have +dreamed of putting off--a cricket match which had been postponed until +his return, and which he had completely forgotten. Paris had nothing in +the shape of amusement to offer him in place of these things, yet in his +own mind these things were as if they had not been. Every interest and +energy of his life was concentrated upon the one simple object of his +search. + +He gave the man half a crown, and walked to the lift whistling. The +porter shook his head, and Duncombe receded considerably in his +estimation, notwithstanding the tip. He considered Mademoiselle Flossie +a little obvious for a gentleman of Duncombe's class. Duncombe treated +himself to a cocktail and a cigarette as he changed his clothes. It was +positively the first gleam of hope he had had. And then suddenly he +remembered Spencer's warning, and he became grave. + +He was at the Cafe Sylvain early. He ordered dinner, gave elaborate +instructions about a young lady when she arrived, and with a glass of +absinthe and another cigarette sat down to wait. At a quarter to eight +he began to get restless. He summoned the waiter again, and gave a more +detailed description of Mademoiselle Flossie. The waiter was regretful +but positive. No young lady of any description had arrived expecting to +meet a gentleman in a private room. Duncombe tried him with her name. +But yes, Mademoiselle Mermillon was exceedingly well known there! He +would give orders that she should be shown up immediately she arrived. +It would be soon, without doubt. + +At a quarter-past eight Duncombe dined alone, too disappointed to resent +the waiter's sympathetic attitude. At nine o'clock he returned to the +hotel on the chance that a message might have been sent there. He read +the English newspapers, and wrote letters until midnight. Then he +ordered a carriage and drove to the Cafe Montmartre. + +He mounted the stairs and passed through the little bar which led into +the supper-room. Monsieur Albert came forward with a low bow. + +"You can find me a table, I suppose?" Duncombe remarked, looking round. +"Where shall I sit?" + +Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly. His hands were outstretched, his +manner sad, but resigned. + +"I am very sorry, Monsieur, but to-night every place is taken. I have +had to turn others away already," he declared. "A thousand regrets." + +Duncombe looked at him astonished. The place was more than half empty. + +"Surely you can find me a small table somewhere," he said. "I was here +last evening, you know. If it is because I am alone I will order supper +for two and a magnum of wine." + +Monsieur Albert was immovable. He remembered Duncombe well, and he was +proud of his patronage, but to-night it was impossible to offer him a +table. Duncombe began to be annoyed. + +"Very well," he said, "I will stay in the bar. You can't turn me out of +there, can you?" + +Monsieur Albert was evasive. He desired Monsieur Duncombe to be amused, +and the people who remained in the bar--well, it was not possible to get +rid of them, but they were not fitting company for him. + +"There is the Cafe Mazarin," he added confidentially, "a few steps only +from here--a most amusing place. The most wonderful ladies there, too, +very chic, and crowded every night! Monsieur should really try it. The +commissionaire would direct him--a few yards only." + +"Much obliged to you," Duncombe answered, turning on his heel. "I may +look in there presently." + +He seated himself at a small round table and ordered a drink. The people +here were of a slightly different class from those who had the _entree_ +to the supper-room and were mostly crowded round the bar itself. At a +small desk within a few feet of him a middle-aged woman with a cold, +hard face sat with a book of account before her and a pile of bills. +There was something almost Sphynx-like about her appearance. She never +spoke. Her expression never changed. Once their eyes met. She looked at +him steadfastly, but said nothing. The girl behind the bar also took +note of him. She was very tall and slim, absolutely colorless, and with +coils of fair hair drawn tightly back from her forehead. She was never +without a cigarette, lighting a fresh one always from its predecessor, +talking all the while unceasingly, but without the slightest change of +expression. Once she waved the men and girls who stood talking to her on +one side, and Duncombe fancied that it was because she desired a better +view of him. + +Suddenly he was startled by a voice close at hand. He looked up. The +woman at the desk was speaking to him. + +"Monsieur would be well advised," she said, "if he departed." + +Duncombe looked at her in amazement. She was writing rapidly in her +book, and her eyes were fixed upon her work. If he had not actually +heard her, it would have been hard to believe that she had spoken. + +"But why, Madame?" he asked. "Why should I go? I am in no one's way. I +can pay for what I have." + +She dipped her pen in the ink. + +"I know nothing of Monsieur or his business," she said, still without +even glancing towards him, "but I know that Monsieur Albert does not +wish him to remain." + +"The devil take Monsieur Albert!" Duncombe answered angrily. "I am +waiting to speak to some one who comes here regularly, and I shall stay +until she comes." + +The woman wrote steadily for a moment. Then she blotted the page on +which she had been writing, and raising her head, looked at him. + +"It is no affair of mine," she said, "but Monsieur Albert has sent for +the police. They may say that you have had too much wine, or that you +owe money. In either case you will be removed. The police will not +listen to you. Monsieur Albert has special discretion. It is no affair +of mine," she repeated, "but if I were Monsieur I would go." + +Duncombe rose slowly to his feet, and summoning a waiter paid his bill. +The man produced a second one, dated a few days back, for a large +amount. + +"What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "I do not owe you anything." + +"Monsieur was here with a party last Thursday night," he said glibly. +"He promised to pay the next time. I will call the manager." + +Duncombe tore the bill in half and turned away. He bowed to the lady at +the desk. + +"I see that you were right," he said. "I will leave." + +"Monsieur is wise," she answered without looking up. + +He left the cafe without speaking to any one further. When he reached +the pavement he slipped a five-franc piece into the hand of the tall +commissionaire. + +"You know most of the young ladies who come here, I suppose?" he asked. + +"But certainly!" the man answered with a smile, "Monsieur desires?" + +"I want the address of a young lady named Mermillon--Flossie, I think +they call her," Duncombe said. + +"Thirty-one, Rue Pigalle," the man answered promptly. "But she should be +here within an hour. She never misses." + +Duncombe thanked him, and hailed a carriage. + +"Shall I give Mademoiselle any message?" the man asked confidentially. + +"I am going to call for her," Duncombe answered. "If I do not find her I +will return." + +To drive to the Rue Pigalle was an affair of five minutes only. Duncombe +climbed a couple of flights of narrow stairs, pushed open a swing gate, +and found himself in front of an office, in which an elderly woman sat +reading. + +"Can you tell me where to find Mademoiselle Mermillon?" Duncombe asked. + +"Next floor; first door on the left," the woman answered. "Mademoiselle +is not often in at this hour, though." + +Duncombe thanked her, and climbed another flight of stairs. He had to +strike a match to look for a bell or knocker, and then found neither. He +knocked on the door with his knuckles. There was no reply. He was on the +point of departure, when he noticed that the door was ajar. After a +moment's hesitation he pushed it open. + +He found himself in a narrow passage, with dresses and other articles of +apparel hanging from a row of pegs on the wall. The place was in +complete darkness. He struck another match. At the end of the passage +was an inner door, also ajar. He rapped upon it, and finally pushed it +open. Just then his match went out! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SPENCER'S SURPRISE + + +Duncombe had the nerves and temperament of the young Englishman of his +class, whose life is mostly spent out of doors, and who has been an +athlete all his days. But nevertheless at that moment he was afraid. +Something in the stillness of the room oppressed him. He could see +nothing, hear nothing except the clock ticking upon the mantlepiece. And +yet he was afraid. + +He fumbled desperately in his pocket for his matchbox. When he had found +it he discovered that it was empty. With a sense of positive relief he +backed out of the room and hastily descended the stairs. The old lady +was still in her sitting-room reading the paper. She set it down at his +entrance, and looked at him over the top of her spectacles. + +"Pardon, Madame," he said, removing his hat, "I find the rooms of +Mademoiselle are open, but all is in darkness. I cannot make any one +hear." + +Madame took up her paper. + +"Then Mademoiselle is probably out," she declared. "It is generally so +at this hour. Monsieur can leave his name." + +"But the doors are all open!" Duncombe said. + +"I go presently and close them," Madame answered. "The careless hussy!" + +Duncombe produced a small piece of gold. Madame laid down the paper at +once. She looked at it as though ready to snatch it from his hand. + +"Madame would oblige me very much if she would ascend with me at once," +Duncombe said. "I should like to make quite sure whether the young lady +is there or not." + +Madame was on her feet with remarkable celerity. She accepted the coin +and carefully placed it in a purse drawn from somewhere amongst the +folds of her voluminous skirts. + +"We shall need a candle," Duncombe reminded her. + +She lit a lamp, talking all the while. + +"Monsieur is very generous," she declared. "Mademoiselle Flossie is a +charming young lady. No wonder she has many friends. There was one," she +continued, "who came here with her this afternoon--but he left almost at +once," she added hastily, aware of her indiscretion. "Ah, these stairs! +They grow steeper for one so corpulent. At last!" + +She pushed open the door and went sideways down the narrow passage. +Directly they had entered it they had a view of the room beyond. Madame +cried out, and Duncombe felt all his vague fears spring into a terrified +apprehension of actual evil. + +The curtain before the window had been hastily drawn, but the lamp which +the portress carried was sufficient feebly to illuminate the room. The +table-cloth and a broken vase lay upon the floor. A few feet off was an +overturned chair. Upon the canopied bed lay a prostrate figure, the head +thrown back at an unnatural angle, the eyes open but glazed. Duncombe +dared do no more than cast one single horrified glance at it. Madame set +down the lamp upon the table, and made the room hideous with shrieks. + +"Good God!" she cried. "It is the little one who is dead!" + +Duncombe himself fetched in the gendarmes, and waited whilst they took +voluminous notes of the occurrence. The murder seemed to them and to +Madame to be one of a very common class. The assassin had left no clue +whatever behind him. The poor girl's rings had been torn from her +fingers, her little stock of jewellery ransacked, her purse was empty, +everything of value had been taken. There was not a shred of evidence +against any one. Madame, who had seen the man upon the stairs, could +only say that he was short, and wore a black felt hat. The officer who +took down what they had to say shrugged his shoulders as he replaced the +book in his pocket. The affair would pass most certainly, he feared, +into the long list of undiscoverable crimes. + +Duncombe left his name and address, and enough money for the funeral. +Then he returned to his hotel. This was the end, then, of the clue from +which he had hoped so much. Spencer's warning as to what would surely +happen to those whom he might succeed in bribing came back into his mind +with sickening insistence. In a measure he was responsible for the +girl's death. After all, what chance had he? He was fighting against +powers which, moving always in the darkness, seemed able with the most +ridiculous ease to frustrate his every move. He re-entered the hotel in +a state of complete nervous depression. For the first time he had +forebodings on his own account. What had happened to Mademoiselle +Flossie might happen so easily to himself. + +A man rose quickly from the lounge in the hotel as he entered. Duncombe +greeted him with a little expression of wonder. + +"Spencer!" he exclaimed. "Were you waiting to see me?" + +The journalist nodded. He was not in evening dress, and he too had the +appearance of a man who has received something of a shock. + +"Yes. The cafe is closed, I suppose. Let us go down into the smoke-room. +I want to talk to you." + +Duncombe led the way. They found two easy-chairs, and despatched a +waiter for whiskies and soda. Then Spencer turned to his friend. + +"Have you met," he asked, "with any success?" + +"None!" Duncombe answered gloomily. + +"I have something to tell you," Spencer continued. "No, it is not good +news," he added hastily. "It is more a personal matter. It is of +something which has happened to myself." + +Duncombe sighed. + +"Go on!" he said. + +"For twenty-two and a half years," Spencer said, "I have lived in Paris +as the correspondent to various English journals. I have made many +friends, and it has been considered amongst all my fellow journalists +that I had the ear of more influential people in politics and society +here than any other writer. To-day I have resigned my position!" + +Duncombe managed to summon up enough interest to be surprised. + +"I had no idea," he said, "that you were contemplating anything of the +sort." + +"I was not!" Spencer answered grimly. "I am as much surprised myself as +all my friends will be." + +Duncombe was puzzled. + +"I am afraid I don't quite understand," he said. "You can't mean that +your people----" + +"No! My people have nothing to do with it," Spencer answered. "I have +had the sack, but not from them. It is Paris which will have no more of +me. I live here, of course, on my faculties for obtaining information, +and my _entree_ into political and social life. To-day the Minister of +Police has declined to receive me, or at any future time--my cards of +entry into the chamber and half a dozen places have been revoked, my +name has been expunged from the visiting list of the President, and +practically of every other person of importance. All that I may see of +Paris now is from the outside. And there is no appeal!" + +"But what is the reason of it, Spencer? What have you done? How have you +offended all these people?" + +Spencer hesitated. + +"I don't want you to blame yourself in any way, Duncombe," he said. "You +could not possibly have guessed the sort of thing you were up against. +But the fact remains that my offence is in having sent my friends to the +Cafe Montmartre on your account, and in being suspected of rendering you +further assistance in your search for those two marvellous young English +people!" + +"You are not joking by any chance, are you?" Duncombe asked gravely. + +"The matter," Spencer replied, "does not appear to me to lend itself to +anything of the sort." + +Duncombe buried his head in his hands for several moments. + +"Great Heavens!" he murmured. "Let me think! I can't tell you how sorry +I am, old chap. Can't the thing be explained? As a matter of fact, you +were discretion itself." + +"I don't want it explained," Spencer said, "even if it would do any +good--which it wouldn't! I should have retired in any case in less than +a year, and, as it is, I believe my successor is on his way over +already. Now would you like to know why I have come here at this hour of +the night to tell you this?" + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Go on!" he said. "Afterwards I've something to tell you." + +"I've come," Spencer said, "because I'm free now, if you like, to help +you. I was interested in your story before. I am ten times more +interested in it now. If you still want me I'll do what I can for you." + +"Want you! Spencer, do you mean it?" Duncombe exclaimed. "Want you! Why, +there's no one I'd rather interest in the affair than you." + +"Well, I can promise you my interest is pretty well excited already," +Spencer answered. "I'm with you right along. Now tell me where you've +been this evening, and what's happened." + +Duncombe recounted the evening's events. His new ally listened and +afterwards smoked for a moment or two in silence. + +"It is simply wonderful," he declared. "The whole secret-service system +of Paris is working to cover up the traces of this boy and girl. Their +spies, of course, are everywhere, and their organization perfect. The +first one of their creatures who tries to break away is Mademoiselle +Flossie. The poor little fool lived for only a few hours afterwards. +Your bribe was high, but she ought to have known better." + +"You mean----" + +"Why, of course! The theft of her poor little jewels was only a blind. +It was to deceive the public, for, as a matter of fact, her murderer +would have been perfectly safe if he had strolled into the nearest +police station and made his report. She was killed because she was going +to give you certain information." + +Duncombe shuddered. + +"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed. "Tell me, Spencer, who or what can be at +the back of all this? Guy Poynton was simply a healthy-minded, not +over-intelligent, young Saxon, unambitious, and passionately fond of his +home and his country life. He had no friends over here, no interests, no +ties of any sort. He was abroad for the first time of his life. He +regarded foreign countries and people simply with the tolerant curiosity +of the untravelled Britisher. He appears in Paris for one night and +disappears, and forthwith all the genius of French espionage seems to +have combined to cover up his traces. It is the same with his sister, +only as she came afterwards it was evidently on his account that she +also is drawn into the mystery. What can be the meaning of it, Spencer?" + +"My young friend," Spencer said, "I will be frank with you. I have not +the least idea! I only know that somehow or other you're up against a +big thing. In a week--perhaps a day--I may know more. Meanwhile I want +you to go on your way precisely as though you and I had not discussed +this matter." + +"We may not work together then?" Duncombe asked. + +"Certainly not! You are a marked man everywhere. Every door is closed to +you. I shall nominally stick to my post. You must be content to be the +actual looker-on, though you had better not abandon your inquiries +altogether. I will put you up at the Cercle Anglais. It will serve to +pass the time, and you may gain information at the most unlikely places. +And now good-bye." + +The liftman thrust a pencilled note into Duncombe's hand as he ascended +to his room. + +"From I do not know whom, Monsieur," he announced. "It was left here by +some one! Whom I cannot say." + +Duncombe opened it in his dressing-room. There was only one sentence:-- + + "Monsieur would be well advised to leave Paris to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A WORD OF WARNING + + +"In the most unlikely places!" Duncombe murmured to himself as he bowed +to the Frenchman, whose name his friend had mentioned. "I am very glad +to meet you again, Monsieur le Baron!" he said, aloud. + +They were in the covered garden at the Ritz. Duncombe had accepted the +pressing invitation of an old college friend, whom he had met on the +boulevards to drop in and be introduced to his wife. And the third at +the tea-table was Monsieur Louis, known in society apparently as +Monsieur le Baron de Seurs. + +Lady Hadley, his friend's wife, smiled languidly upon them both. She was +a frail pink and white little woman, with the reputation of a beauty to +sustain, wherein lay her life's work. + +"You two know one another, of course!" she remarked. "Paris is no larger +than London, after all." + +"Sir George and I have met once at least," the Baron said, smiling. "I +am glad that he does me the honor of remembering the occasion." + +Duncombe felt himself no match for his companion with the foils. He let +the conversation drift, and waited for his opportunity. Presently some +more guests arrived, and Duncombe drew his host on one side. + +"Hadley," he said, "how long have you known the Baron?" + +"Met him at Dorset House about two years ago, I think," Hadley answered. +"He was doing a round of country-houses. I'm not sure that he didn't +stay at Sandringham. One of the real old French families, you know, De +Seurs." + +Duncombe nodded. There did not seem to be much that he could say. He +mingled with the other guests, and observed his social duties. But he +watched the Baron, and he took care that they left together. + +"Are you going my way, Baron?" he asked, as they stepped into the Place +Vendome. + +"I was going to the Cercle Anglais," the Baron answered. "Do you +belong?" + +"I am up for a month's membership, but I am not elected yet," Duncombe +answered. + +"Then you shall come in as my guest," the Baron declared. + +"You are exceedingly kind," Duncombe answered. "I wonder whether I might +presume still further upon your good nature and ask you a question." + +"The asking," the Baron murmured, "involves nothing." + +"You bear, I am told, an honored name, and you are well received in +society. Why do you associate with murderers and thieves in that hell of +a cafe where I saw you first?" + +The Baron smiled. + +"My friend," he said, "I seek always the life amusing, and I find it +there." + +"I was robbed before your eyes, Baron." + +The Frenchman sighed. + +"I am so sorry," he said, "that I did not see it. That indeed would have +been amusing." + +"You know that the young lady who sat with us is dead?" + +"A most bizarre happening," the Baron assented with a little sigh. "I +cannot imagine how it occurred. The newspaper reports are not +convincing. One would like to reconstruct the story. Poor little +Flossie! She was most amusing, but just a little, a very little, too +fond of flourishing her jewellery. One will miss her, though." + +"Referring for one moment to our meeting at the cafe. You told me a +story there--you and your friend Madame--of a young English lady--which +the facts seem scarcely to sustain." + +The Baron sighed. + +"My friend," he said, "we did the best we could at a moment's notice. I +rather fancied the story myself. As to facts--what have they to do with +it? You demanded a story, and you got it. I rather flattered myself that +under the circumstances it was not bad." + +"You admit now, then, that it was not the truth!" + +"The truth! My dear Sir George! Supposing that the whereabouts of your +charming young friend had been known to me, do you suppose that I should +have permitted myself to be bullied into disclosing it? Forgive me if I +speak plainly, but if you really wished for information which you +supposed that I had, your method of seeking it put you at once out of +court. A French gentleman does not permit himself to be bullied." + +Duncombe was silent for several moments. There were many things which he +could have said, but where was the use? + +"As a French gentleman, then," he said at last, "will you permit me to +make a personal appeal to you? Miss Phyllis Poynton is a young lady in +whom I am deeply interested. She was last seen at the Cafe Montmartre, +from which place she disappeared. I am an Englishman of your own +station. Tell me where I can find her, or what has become of her." + +"My dear Sir George," the Baron said, "you might have saved yourself a +great deal of trouble if you had spoken like this to me at the first. +Frankly, then, I have not the least idea. Young English ladies come and +go every evening at the Cafe Montmartre, and such places. One remembers +only those who happen to have amused one, and not always those. Forgive +me if I speak plainly. A young lady who had visited the Cafe Montmartre +alone--well, you might look for her anywhere, but most assuredly in that +case if your anxiety was to induce her to return to her friends, you +would be a little too late. Ah! We have arrived. Now, my friend, I must +make you free of the place." + +Duncombe was fuming with anger, but he had discretion enough to remain +silent. + +"Do you play Bridge?" the Baron asked, as they entered the card-room. + +"Occasionally," Duncombe assented. + +"I will go and see if I can find any men," the Baron remarked. "I will +leave my young friend De Bergillac to entertain you. The Vicomte de +Bergillac--Sir George Duncombe." + +Duncombe shook hands with a pale, weary-looking youth, whose whole +appearance was distinguished by marked symptoms of lassitude and +ill-health. They sat in easy-chairs almost opposite to one another, and +Duncombe found the other's scrutiny almost embarrassing. + +"You speak French, perhaps--yes?" the young man asked at length. + +"Yes! I speak French," Duncombe admitted. + +"Then listen to me," the Vicomte said slowly. "I speak as one man of +honor to another. Do not play cards in this club!" + +"Not play cards? Why not?" Duncombe asked, amazed. + +"You can take my advice or leave it," the Vicomte answered calmly. "I +have no explanation to offer you. If you chose to repeat my remark you +would place me in an exceedingly awkward position. You see, I rely upon +you as a man of honor." + +"I am only too much obliged to you for the hint," Duncombe declared. +"But this club--the Cercle Anglais----" + +"The club is all right," the Vicomte admitted calmly. "Unfortunately +there is no place in Paris which would be entirely safe for you. You +have the misfortune, you see, to be in opposition to some of my friends, +who have really unlimited opportunities for making things disagreeable +for you. Now I am beginning to talk, and it is very foolish of me. Why +don't you leave Paris, Sir George?" + +"Why should I?" Duncombe asked, a little sharply. "I break no laws here, +I wrong no one. I am here on my own business, and I only ask to be let +alone." + +The Vicomte regarded him as one might look at a spoilt child whom it was +yet advisable to humor. + +"Ah," he said, "they will not let you alone. You are so obstinate, like +all your country-people, or you would recognize it without my risking +so much by speaking. You will have to leave Paris, and very soon. It is +so easily to be managed. A dispute at cards here--you would certainly be +in the wrong, and an ugly scandal if you were not away in twenty-four +hours. It is one method of a thousand." + +"You know so much," Duncombe said. "I have no doubt that you know the +one thing which I would give years of my life to be satisfied about." + +The boy's dark eyes were fixed steadily upon his. + +"Sir George," he said, "there is nothing which I can possibly say to +you. My warning has been exceeding foolish, but after all if I can +persuade you to leave Paris I shall have done no great harm. As for the +cards--well, I must plead guilty to weakness there. I have not the +slightest objection to taking the life of a man who is making a nuisance +of himself, but his honor I think one should not tamper with. May I +offer you a cigarette? Well, Louis, what luck?" + +The Baron had strolled back into the room, and was sitting on the arm of +a chair. + +"It will be all right directly," the Baron answered. "We have three, and +old D'Arcon has telephoned that he will be here in five minutes." + +Duncombe rose to his feet. + +"It was really very careless of me," he said, "but I completely forgot +that I had an engagement at the hotel at six o'clock. I am afraid that I +shall not be able to stop." + +The Baron glanced quickly at his young friend. There was nothing +whatever to be learnt, though, from his pale, boyish face. His own +countenance had darkened for the moment, but he recovered his composure +immediately. + +"As you will," he answered carelessly. "Perhaps you can drop in later. +Come and dine, will you, at half-past eight?" + +"I am much obliged to you, Baron," Duncombe said, "but I cannot accept +your invitation. I am a lover of plain speaking, so I will not plead a +previous engagement. But the one thing I want from you, the thing which +I have almost a right to demand, you will not give. I do not feel, +therefore, that any more than ordinary intercourse is possible between +us." + +The Baron bowed gravely. + +"My dear Sir George," he said, "I am answered. I wish I could drive out +of your mind that extraordinary hallucination relative to my supposed +knowledge of your young English friend. It is impossible! Very good! I +shall look forward to a time, Sir George, when we may meet on a better +footing." + +Duncombe left the hotel with the recollection of that curiously ironic +smile fresh in his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE + + +For three days Duncombe saw nothing of Spencer. Three long days devoid +of incident, hopelessly dull, aimless, and uninteresting. On the fourth +the only change in the situation was scarcely a reassuring one. He +became aware that he was being watched. + +There was no particular secrecy about it. Even in the hotel itself some +one was always on his heels. The absence of any attempt at concealment +convinced him that it was the authorized police who had thus suddenly +showed their interest in him. The suspicion was soon to be confirmed. +The manager called him on the fourth morning into his private office. + +"Monsieur will pardon me, I trust," he said, "if I take the liberty of +asking him a question." + +"Certainly!" Duncombe answered. "Go ahead!" + +"Monsieur is aware that he has been placed under the surveillance of the +police?" + +"The fact," Duncombe said, "has been borne in upon me during the last +few hours. What of it?" + +The manager coughed. + +"This is a cosmopolitan hotel, Sir George," he said, "and we make no +pretence at ultra-exclusiveness, but we do not care to see the police on +the premises." + +"Neither do I," Duncombe answered. "Can you suggest how we may get rid +of them?" + +"Monsieur does not quite understand," the manager said smoothly. +"Clearly he has done something to bring him under the suspicion of the +law. Under these circumstances it would be more agreeable to the +management of the hotel if Monsieur would depart." + +Duncombe did not wish to depart. The hotel at which Phyllis Poynton's +trunks were still awaiting her return was the hotel at which he wished +to stay. + +"Look here, Monsieur Huber," he said. "I give you my word of honor that +I have broken no law, nor engaged in any criminal action whatever since +I came to Paris. This game of having me watched is simply a piece of +bluff. I have done nothing except make inquiries in different quarters +respecting those two young English people who are still missing. In +doing this I seem to have run up against what is nothing more nor less +than a disgraceful conspiracy. Every hand is against me. Instead of +helping me to discover them, the police seem only anxious to cover up +the tracks of those young people." + +The manager looked down at his desk. + +"We hotel-keepers," he said, "are very much in the hands of the police. +We cannot judge between them and the people whom they treat as suspected +persons. I know very well, Sir George, that you are a person of +respectability and character, but if the police choose to think +otherwise I must adapt my views to theirs. I am sorry, but we must +really ask you to leave." + +Sir George turned on his heel. + +"Very good!" he said. "I will go and take rooms elsewhere." + +He left the hotel, and walked towards the Ritz. At the corner of the +Place Vendome an automobile was pulled up with a jerk within a few feet +of him. A tired-looking boy leaned over wearily towards him from the +front seat. + +"Sir George," he said, "can you give me five minutes?" + +"With pleasure!" he answered. "I was going into the Ritz. Come and have +something." + +"To Maxim's, if you don't mind," the Vicomte said. "It will take us only +a moment." + +Sir George stepped in. The Vicomte, in whose fingers the wheel seemed +scarcely to rest, so light and apparently careless was his touch, +touched a lever by his side, released the clutch, and swung the great +car round the corner at a speed which made Duncombe grasp the sides. At +a pace which seemed to him most ridiculous, they dashed into the Rue de +Rivoli, and with another sharp turn pulled up before Maxim's. The +Vicomte rose with a yawn as though he had just awoke from a refreshing +dream. His servant slipped off his fur coat, and he descended to the +pavement faultlessly dressed and quite unruffled. The commissionaire +preceded them, hat in hand, to the door. A couple of waiters ushered +them to the table which the Vicomte intimated by a gesture. + +"I myself," he remarked, drawing off his gloves, "take nothing but +absinthe. What may I have the pleasure of ordering for you?" + +Duncombe ordered a whisky and soda. + +"I think," he said, "there is one thing which I ought to tell you at +once. I am being shadowed by the police. The man who has just arrived, +and who seems a little breathless, is, I believe, the person whose duty +it is to dog my footsteps in the daytime." + +"What a pity!" the Vicomte murmured. "I would at least have taken you a +mile or so round the boulevards if I had known. But wait! You are +sure--that it is the police by whom you are being watched?" + +"Quite," Duncombe answered. "The manager of the hotel has spoken to me +about it. He has asked me, in fact, to leave." + +"To leave the hotel?" + +"Yes! I was on my way to the Ritz to secure rooms when I met you." + +The Vicomte sipped his absinthe gravely. + +"I should not take those rooms," he said. "You will in all probability +not occupy them." + +"Why not?" + +"It has been decided," the Vicomte said, "that you are to be driven out +of Paris. In the end you will have to go. I think if I were you I would +not wait. The train de luxe to Calais is more comfortable than a wet +bench in the Morgue or a French prison." + +"Who has decided this?" Duncombe asked. "What Emperor has signed the +decree of my banishment?" + +"There have been worse served Emperors," the Vicomte remarked, "than +the, shall we say person, who bids you go!" + +"What is my offence?" Duncombe asked. + +"I know nothing," the Vicomte answered slowly, pouring himself out some +absinthe. + +"Who are my judges, then? What secret authorities have I incensed? I am +an honest man, engaged in an honest mission. Why should I not be allowed +to execute it?" + +The Vicomte half closed his eyes. Duncombe was a little angry. The +Vicomte regarded him with reproachful wonder. + +"You ask me so many questions," he murmured, "and I tell you that I know +nothing. I have asked you to come here with me because I had just this +to say. I can answer no questions, offer no explanations. I have no +particular liking for you, but I am afflicted with a cursedly sensitive +disposition, and--there are things which I find it hard to watch with +equanimity. There is a train for England at nine o'clock this evening, +Sir George. Take it!" + +Duncombe rose from his seat. + +"I am very much obliged to you," he said. "I believe that you are giving +me what you believe to be good advice. Whether I can follow it or not is +a different matter." + +The Vicomte sighed. + +"You Englishmen," he said, "are so obstinate. It is the anxiety +concerning your friends, I suppose, which keeps you here?" + +"Yes!" + +The Vicomte hesitated. He looked up and down the room, and especially at +the man whom Duncombe had pointed out to him. He had edged nearer and +nearer till he was almost within earshot. The Vicomte's voice, always +low, became a whisper. + +"I can tell you this much, at any rate," he said. "Whatever their +present condition may be, it is more likely to be improved than made +worse by your departure. You are a well-meaning person, Monsieur, but +you do nobody any good here, and you risk--more than I dare tell you." + +The Vicomte turned away to greet a little party of friends who had just +entered. Duncombe strolled back to the hotel, and found Spencer walking +restlessly up and down the hall waiting for him. + +"At last!" he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief. "Come up into my room, +Spencer. We can talk there." + +He rang for the lift, and as they ascended he watched the other +anxiously. Spencer was looking pale and disturbed. His eyes showed signs +of sleeplessness, and he had not the air of a man who has good news to +impart. As soon as they were inside the room he locked the door. + +"Duncombe," he said, "there is a train which leaves Paris for London at +four o'clock. You must catch it--if you are allowed to. Don't look like +that, man. I tell you you've got to do it. If you are in Paris to-night +you will be in prison." + +"For what offence?" Duncombe asked. + +"For the murder of Mademoiselle Flossie. They are training the witnesses +now. The whole thing is as easy as A B C. They can prove you so guilty +that not even your best friend would doubt it. Pack your clothes, man, +or ring for the valet." + +Duncombe hesitated, but he, too, was pale. + +"Are you serious, Spencer?" he asked. + +"I am so serious," Spencer answered, "that unless you obey me I will not +move another finger in this matter. You lose nothing by going. All that +a human being can do I will do! But you lose your life, or, at any rate, +your liberty if you stay." + +Duncombe bowed his head to fate. + +"Very well!" he said. "I will go!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +"HER VOICE." + + +"You have heard now," Duncombe said, finally, "the whole history of my +wanderings. I feel like a man who has been beating the air, who has been +at war with unseen and irresistible forces. I never seemed to have a +chance. In plain words, I have failed utterly!" + +The two men were sitting in a room impossible of classification. It +might have been a study, smoking-room, or gun-room. The walls were +adorned with stags' heads and various trophies of the chase. There were +guns and rifles in plenty in a rack by the chimney-piece, a row of +bookcases along the north wall, golf clubs, cricket bats, and foils +everywhere. A pile of logs ready for burning stood in the open grate, +and magnificent rugs were spread about the floor. Nowhere was there the +slightest trace of a woman's presence, for Duncombe had no sisters, and +his was entirely a bachelor household. + +Duncombe himself and Andrew Pelham were seated in great easy-chairs in +front of the open window. It was his first fine evening at home, and he +was drinking in great draughts of the fresh pure air, fragrant with the +perfume of roses and huge clusters of wallflowers. Paris had seemed to +him like a great oven. All the time he had been half stifled, and yet he +knew very well that at a word from Spencer he would have returned there +at an hour's notice. He knew, too, that the home which he had loved all +his days could never be quite the same place to him again. + +Andrew roused himself from rather a prolonged silence. + +"You were a brick to go, George," he said. "It is more than any one else +in the world would have done for me." + +Duncombe laughed a little uneasily. He knocked the ashes from his pipe +and refilled it slowly. + +"Andrew," he said, "I don't want to seem a fraud. I dare say that I +might have gone for you alone--but I didn't." + +His friend smiled faintly. + +"Ah!" he remarked. "I had forgotten your little infatuation. It hasn't +worn off yet, then?" + +"No, nor any signs of it," Duncombe answered bluntly. "It's an odd +position for a matter-of-fact person like myself, isn't it? I tell you, +Andrew, I've really tried to care for some of the girls about here. The +place wants a mistress, and I'm the tenth baronet in the direct line. +One's got to think about these things, you know. I've tried hard, and +I've never even come near it." + +"It will wear off," Andrew said. "It is a very charming little fancy, a +most delightful bit of sentiment, George, but with nothing behind it it +can't last." + +"Perhaps not," Duncombe answered quietly. "All that I know is that it +has shown no signs of wearing off up to now. It was in Paris exactly as +it is here. And I know very well that if I thought it would do her the +least bit of good I would start back to Paris or to the end of the world +to-night." + +"I must readjust my views of you, George," his friend said with mild +satire. "I always looked upon you as fair game for the Norfolk dowagers +with their broods of daughters, but I never contemplated your fixing +your affections upon a little piece of paste-board." + +"Rot! It is the girl herself," Duncombe declared. + +"But you have never seen her." + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He said nothing. What was the use? +Never seen her! Had she not found her way into every beautiful place his +life had knowledge of? + +"If you had," Andrew murmured--"ah, well, the picture is like her. I +remember when she was a child. She was always fascinating, always +delightful to watch." + +Duncombe looked out upon the gardens which he loved, and sighed. + +"If only Spencer would send for me to go back to Paris," he said with a +sigh. + +Andrew turned his head. + +"You can imagine now," he said, "what I have been suffering. The desire +for action sometimes is almost maddening. I think that the man who sits +and waits has the hardest task." + +They were silent for some time, smoking steadily. Then Duncombe reverted +once more to his wanderings. + +"You remember the story they told me at the Cafe, Andrew," he said. "It +was a lie, of course, but was Miss Poynton anything of an artist?" + +"To the best of my belief," Andrew answered, "she has never touched a +brush or a pencil since she left school." + +Duncombe looked out into the gathering twilight. + +"It is a devil's riddle, this!" he said slowly. "Why did she go to that +place at all?" + +"God only knows!" Andrew murmured. + +Duncombe's teeth were hard set. A paper-knife, which he had caught up +from the table, snapped in his fingers. There was something in his +throat which nearly choked him. + +"Phyllis Poynton," Andrew continued, "was as sweet and pure a woman as +ever breathed. She must have loathed that place. She could only have +gone there to seek for her brother, or----" + +"Or for whom?" + +"For those who knew where he was." + +Duncombe turned his head. + +"Andrew!" + +"Yes, old chap!" + +"Let me look at her photograph again." + +Andrew drew it from his pocket and passed it over. Duncombe studied it +for several moments under the lamplight. + +"You are right, Andrew," he said slowly. "For her the other things would +not be possible. I wonder----" + +His fingers clung to the photograph. He looked across at his friend. +There was a slight flush in his face. He spoke nervously. + +"Andrew," he said, "I'm afraid it sounds a bit brutal, but--this +photograph is no use to you just now, is it, until your eyes get better. +Will you lend it me?" + +"I couldn't," Andrew answered quietly. "I can't see it now of course, +but I like to feel it in my pocket, and it will be the first thing I +shall look at when the doctor lets me take off these beastly +glasses--if ever he does. Until then--well, I like to feel I've got it. +That's all!" + +They both smoked furiously for several moments without looking at one +another. Duncombe spoke first. + +"Andrew!" + +"Well?" + +"If she comes back--shall you ever ask her to marry you?" + +"I don't know, George. I'm poor, and I'm twelve years older than she is. +I don't know." + +There was another silence. Then the conversation drifted back once more +to the one subject which was monopolizing the thought of both of them. + +"I tell you what seems to me to be the most extraordinary part of the +whole business," Duncombe said. "First the brother disappears. Then +without a word to any one the sister also rushes off to Paris, and +vanishes from the face of the earth after a series of extraordinary +proceedings. One supposes naturally that if they have come to harm +anywhere--if there has been a crime--there must have been a motive. What +is it? You say that their banking account has been undisturbed?" + +"It was last week. I should hear if any cheques were presented." + +"And the boy's letter of credit even has never been drawn upon!" + +"No! Not since he left Vienna." + +"Then the motive cannot be robbery. Thank Heaven," Duncombe added, with +a little shudder, "that it was the boy who went first." + +"Don't!" + +A great winged insect came buzzing into the room. Duncombe struck +viciously at it with the palm of his hand. + +"Lord!" he muttered, "what a fool I am! I've never been away from home +before, Andrew, without longing to get back, and here I am, just back +from Paris in August, from turning night into day, from living just the +sort of life I hate, and I'd give anything to be going back there +to-morrow. I'm a haunted man, Andrew. I got up last night simply because +I couldn't sleep, and walked down as far as the paddock. I seemed to see +her face in all the shadowy corners, to see her moving towards me from +amongst the trees. And I'm not an imaginative person, Andrew, and I've +got no nerves. Look!" + +He held out his hand, strong and firm and brown. It was as steady as a +rock. + +"I can't sleep," he continued, "I can't rest. Is there witchcraft in +this thing, Andrew?" + +Andrew Pelham laughed shortly. It was a laugh which had no kinship to +mirth. + +"And I," he said, "have seen her grow up. We were boy and girl together. +I stole apples for her. I have watched her grow from girlhood into +womanhood. I have known flesh and blood, and you a cardboard image. I +too am a strong man, and I am helpless. I lie awake at night and I +think. It is as though the red flames of hell were curling up around me. +George, if she has come to any evil, whether I am blind or whether I can +see, I'll grope my way from country to country till my hand is upon the +throat of the beast who has harmed her." + +The man's voice shook with passion. Duncombe was awed into silence. He +had known Andrew Pelham always as a good-natured, good-hearted giant, +beloved of children and animals, deeply religious, a man whose temper, +if he possessed such a thing, was always strictly under control. Such an +outburst as this was a revelation. Duncombe understood then how slight a +thing his own suffering was. + +"You shall not go alone, Andrew," he said softly. "But for the present +we must wait. If any one can help us, Spencer will." + +A servant came in with the whisky and glasses, and silently arranged +them upon the table. Duncombe rose and attended to his duties as host. + +"Can I get you anything further, sir?" the man asked. + +"Nothing, thanks," Duncombe answered. "Tell the servants to go to bed. +We will lock up. Say when, Andrew!" + +Andrew took his glass mechanically. Out in the lane the silence of the +summer night was suddenly broken by the regular tread of horses' feet +and the rumbling of vehicles. Duncombe Hall was built like many of the +old-fashioned houses in the country, with its back to the road, and the +window at which they were sitting looked out upon it. Duncombe leaned +forward in his chair. + +"Visitors by the last train going up to Runton Place," he remarked. +"Runton has quite a large party for the first. Hullo! They're stopping. +I'd better go out." + +He rose from his chair. The omnibus had stopped in the lane, and they +could hear the voices of the occupants clearly through the soft +darkness. Some one was apparently getting out, and stumbled. A girl's +soft laugh rang out distinctly above the man's exclamation. Duncombe +was already stepping over the window-sill when he felt a clutch like +iron upon his shoulder. He looked round in amazement. Andrew's face was +transformed. He was struggling for words. + +"Her voice!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Am I dreaming, George? It was her +voice!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +LAUGHTER OF WOMEN + + +The door of the omnibus was opened as Duncombe stepped over the low wall +into the road. A tall man in a long light Inverness descended. + +"Hullo, Duncombe!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand; "I was coming in +to see you for a moment." + +"Good man!" Duncombe answered. "Bring your friends, won't you?" + +He held open the gate hospitably, but Lord Runton shook his head. + +"I only wanted a word with you," he said. "We're all starving, and if +you don't mind we'll get on as quickly as we can. About to-morrow. You +shoot with us, of course?" + +"Delighted!" Duncombe answered. + +"Cresswell met me at the station," Lord Runton continued. "I'd drawn out +a plan for the shoot, but it seems that Cresswell--old fool--hasn't got +his harvest in from the two fields by Ketton's Gorse. What I wanted to +ask you was if we might take your turnips up from Mile's bottom to the +north end of the gorse. We can make our circuit then without a break." + +"My dear fellow!" Duncombe protested, "was it worth while asking me such +a thing? Of course you can." + +"That's settled, then," Lord Runton declared, turning back towards the +omnibus. "Let me introduce you to my friends," he added, resting his +hand upon the other's shoulder, "and then we'll be off." + +Duncombe, in whose ears his friend's cry was still ringing, pressed +eagerly forward. + +"This is my neighbor, Sir George Duncombe," Lord Runton said, looking +into the carriage, "who will shoot with us to-morrow. Miss Fielding and +Mr. Fielding, Lady Angrave and the Baron Von Rothe." + +Lady Angrave held out her hand. + +"Sir George and I are almost old friends," she said, with a somewhat +languid smile. "We were both at Castle Holkham last autumn." + +Duncombe murmured something conventional as he bowed over her fingers. +His whole attention was riveted upon the tall, pale girl in the further +corner of the omnibus. Her acknowledgment of his introduction had been +of the slightest, and her features were obscured by a white veil. She +looked away from him at once and continued a whispered conversation with +the white-haired gentleman at her side. Duncombe could think of no +excuse for addressing her. + +"I shall have the pleasure of meeting you all again to-morrow," he said, +closing the door after Lord Runton. "I won't keep you now. I know what +the journey is down from town. Good night, Runton!" + +"Good night, George. Ten o'clock sharp!" + +The carriage rolled off, and Duncombe returned to his own domain. Andrew +was waiting for him impatiently by the gate. + +"Well!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you have seen her. Well?" + +The man was trembling with excitement. There were drops of perspiration +upon his forehead. His voice sounded unnatural. + +"I saw a young lady in the carriage," Duncombe answered, "or rather I +did not see her, for she wore a veil, and she scarcely looked at me. But +she was introduced to me as Miss Fielding, and her father was with her." + +"Fielding! Fielding!" Andrew repeated. "Never mind that. What was she +like! What colored hair had she?" + +"I told you that she kept her veil down," Duncombe repeated. "Her hair +was a sort of deep, red-brown--what I could see of it. But, seriously, +Andrew, what is the use of discussing her? One might as soon expect one +of my housemaids to change into Phyllis Poynton, as to discover her with +a brand-new father, a brand-new name, and a guest at Runton Place." + +Andrew was silent for a moment. He touched his spectacles with a weary +gesture, and covered his eyes with his hand. + +"Yes," he said, "I suppose you are right. I suppose I am a fool. +But--the voice!" + +"The laughter of women," said Duncombe, "is music all the world over. +One cannot differ very much from the other." + +"You are quite wrong, George," Andrew said. "The voices of women vary +like the thumb-marks of criminals. There are no two attuned exactly +alike. It is the receptive organs that are at fault. We, who have lost +one sense, find the others a little keener. The laughter of that +girl--George, will you keep me a few days longer? Somehow I cannot bring +myself to leave until I have heard her voice once more." + +Duncombe laughed heartily. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "I shall bless your uncommonly sensitive ears +if they keep you here with me even for an extra few days. You shall have +your opportunity, too. I always dine at Runton Place after our first +shoot, and I know Runton quite well enough to take you. You shall sit at +the same table. Hullo, what's this light wobbling up the drive?" + +He strolled a yard or so away, and returned. + +"A bicycle," he remarked. "One of the grooms has been down to the +village. I shall have to speak to Burdett in the morning. I will not +have these fellows coming home at all sorts of times in the morning. +Come along in, Andrew. Just a drain, eh? And a cigarette--and then to +bed. Runton's keen on his bag, and they say that German, Von Rothe, is a +fine shot. Can't let them have it all their own way." + +"No fear of that," Andrew answered, stepping through the window. "I'll +have the cigarette, please, but I don't care about any more whisky. The +'Field' mentioned your name only a few weeks ago as one of the finest +shots at rising birds in the country, so I don't think you need fear the +German." + +"I ought to hold my own with the partridges," Duncombe admitted, helping +himself from the siphon, "but come in, come in!" + +A servant entered with a telegram upon a silver salver. + +"A boy has just brought this from Runton, sir," he said. + +Duncombe tore it open. He was expecting a message from his gun-maker, +and he opened it without any particular interest, but as he read, his +whole manner changed. He held the sheet in front of him long enough to +have read it a dozen times. He could not restrain the slight start--a +half exclamation. Then his teeth came together. He remembered the +servant and looked up. + +"There will be no answer to-night, Murray," he said. "Give the boy a +shilling and some supper. If he goes home by the Runton gates, tell him +to be sure and close them, because of the deer." + +"Very good, sir!" + +The man departed. Duncombe laid the telegram upon the table. He felt +that Andrew was waiting impatiently for him to speak. + +"Well?" + +"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said. + +"From Paris?" + +"Yes." + +"He has discovered something?" + +"On the contrary," Duncombe answered, "he is asking me for information, +and very curious information, too." + +"What does he want to know?" + +"The telegram," Duncombe said slowly, "is in French. He asks me to wire +him at once the names of all the guests at Runton Place." + +Andrew struck the table a mighty blow with his clenched fist. + +"I knew it!" he cried. "It was her laugh, her voice. Phyllis Poynton is +there!" + +Duncombe looked at his friend incredulously. + +"My dear Andrew," he said, "be reasonable. The young lady and her father +in that omnibus were introduced to me by Runton himself as Mr. and Miss +Fielding. They are going to his house as his guests. Naturally, +therefore, he knows all about them. Miss Poynton, as you have told me +more than once, is an orphan." + +"Common-sense won't even admit it as a matter of argument," Andrew said. +"I know that quite well. But how do you account for Spencer's telegram?" + +"Remember that he is a newspaper correspondent," Duncombe said. "He has +many interests and many friends with whom he is constantly exchanging +information. It is a coincidence, I admit. But the wildest flight of +imagination could not make any more of it." + +"You must be right," Andrew said quietly. "It all sounds, and is, so +convincing. But I wish that I had not heard that laugh!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA + + +Duncombe leaned his gun up against a gate. A few yards away his host was +talking to the servants who had brought down luncheon. The rest of the +party were only just in sight a field or two off. + +"Have a glass of sherry before lunch, George?" his host asked, strolling +towards him. + +"Nothing to drink, thanks! I'd like a cigarette, if you have one." + +Lord Runton produced his case, and a servant brought them matches. They +both leaned over the gate, and watched the scattered little party slowly +coming towards them. + +"Who is your friend Fielding?" Duncombe asked, a little bluntly. + +"Fellow from New York," Lord Runton answered. "He's been very decent to +my brother out there, and Archibald wrote and asked me to do all we +could for them. The girl is very handsome. You'll see her at dinner +to-night." + +"Here for long?" + +"No, unfortunately," Lord Runton answered. "I had very hard work to get +them to come at all. Cicely has written them three or four times, I +think, but they've always had engagements. They're only staying till +Monday, I think. Very quiet, inoffensive sort of chap, Fielding, but the +girl's a ripper! Hullo! Here they are. I'll introduce you." + +A groom had thrown open the gate of the field across which they were +looking, and Lady Runton from the box seat of a small mail phaeton waved +her whip. She drove straight across the furrows towards them a little +recklessly, the groom running behind. By her side was a girl with coils +of deep brown hair, and a thick black veil worn after the fashion of the +travelling American. + +"Just in time, aren't we?" Lady Runton remarked, as she brought the +horses to a standstill. "Help me down, Jack, and look after Miss +Fielding, Sir George. By the bye, have you two met yet?" + +Duncombe bowed--he was bareheaded--and held out his hands. + +"I saw Miss Fielding for a moment last night," he said, "or rather I +didn't see her. We were introduced, however. What do you think of our +maligned English weather, Miss Fielding?" he asked. + +She raised her veil and looked at him deliberately. He had been prepared +for this meeting, and yet it was with difficulty that he refrained from +a start. The likeness of the photograph (it was even at that moment in +his pocket) was wonderful. She looked a little older, perhaps. There +were shadows in her face of which there were no traces in the picture. +And yet the likeness was wonderful. + +"To-day at least is charming," she said. "But then I am quite used to +your climate, you know. I have lived in Europe almost as much as in +America." + +She certainly had no trace of any accent. She spoke a little more +slowly, perhaps, than most young Englishwomen, but there was nothing +whatever in her words or in her pronunciation of them to suggest a +transatlantic origin. She stood by his side looking about her with an +air of interest, and Duncombe began to wonder whether after all she was +not more beautiful than the photograph which he had treasured so +jealously. He became conscious of a desire to keep her by his side. + +"Is your father shooting, Miss Fielding?" + +She laughed softly. + +"You don't know my father, Sir George," she answered. "He hates +exercise, detests being out of doors, and his idea of Paradise when he +is away from business is to be in a large hotel where every one speaks +English, where there are tapes and special editions and an American +bar." + +Duncombe laughed. + +"Then I am afraid Mr. Fielding will find it rather hard to amuse himself +down here." + +"Well, he's discovered the telephone," she said. "He's spending the +morning ringing up people all over the country. He was talking to his +bankers when we came out. Oh, here come the rest of them. How tired they +look, poor things--especially the Baron! Nature never meant him to tramp +over ploughed fields, I am sure. Baron, I was just saying how warm you +look." + +The Baron took off his cap, gave up his gun to a keeper, and turned a +glowing face towards them. + +"My dear young lady," he declared, "I am warm. I admit it, but it is +good for me. Very good indeed. I tried to make your father walk with +us. He will be sure to suffer some day if he takes no exercise." + +"Oh, father's never ill," the girl answered. "But then he eats nothing, +Sir George, I hope you're going to devote yourself to me at luncheon. +I'm terribly hungry." + +"So we all are," Lady Runton declared. "Come along, every one." + +Luncheon was served in a large open barn, pleasantly fragrant of dried +hay, and with a delightful view of the sea far away in the distance. +Miss Fielding chattered to every one, was amusing and amused. The Baron +gave her as much of his attention as he was ever disposed to bestow upon +any one at meal-times, and Duncombe almost forgot that he had +breakfasted at eight o'clock. + +"Charming young person, that!" said Lady Runton's neighbor to her. "One +of our future Duchesses, I suppose?" + +Lady Runton smiled. + +"Lots of money, Teddy," she answered. "What a pity you haven't a title!" + +The young man--he was in the Foreign Office--sighed, and shook his head. + +"Such things are not for me," he declared sententiously. "My affections +are engaged." + +"That isn't the least reason why you shouldn't marry money," her +ladyship declared, lighting a cigarette. "Go and talk to her!" + +"Can't spoil sport!" he answered, shaking his head. "By Jove! Duncombe +is making the running, though, isn't he?" + +Her ladyship raised her glasses. Duncombe and Miss Fielding had +strolled outside the barn. He was showing her his house--a very +picturesque old place it looked, down in the valley. + +"It's nothing but a farmhouse, of course," he said. "No pretensions to +architecture or anything of that sort, of course, but it's rather a +comfortable old place." + +"I think it is perfectly charming," the girl said. "Do you live there +all alone? You have sisters perhaps?" + +He shook his head. + +"No such luck!" he answered. "Mine is entirely a bachelor establishment. +A great part of the time I am alone. Just now I have a pal staying with +me--awfully decent chap, from Devonshire." + +She was certainly silent for a moment. He fancied too that there was a +change in her face. + +"From Devonshire!" she repeated, with a carelessness which, if it was +not natural, was exceedingly well assumed. "I believe I knew some people +once who came from there. What is your friend's name, Sir George?" + +He turned slowly towards her. + +"Andrew Pelham!" he said quietly. "He comes from a place called +Raynesworth." + +"He is staying here now--with you?" + +"Yes," he answered gravely. + +It was not his fancy this time. Of that he felt sure. Her face for the +moment had been the color of chalk--a little exclamation had been +strangled upon her lips. She shot a quick glance at him. He met it +steadily. + +"You know the name?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"The name--yes," she answered, "but not the person. A very old friend +of mine was called Andrew Pelham, but he was an American, and he has +never been in England. It startled me, though, to hear the exact name +from you." + +She was herself again. Her explanation was carelessly given. It sounded +even convincing, but Duncombe himself was not convinced. He knew that +she wanted him to be. He felt her eyes seeking his, studying his face. +Perhaps she was only anxious that he should not misunderstand. + +"George, are you ready?" his host called out. "We're going to take +Smith's pastures." + +"Quite!" Duncombe answered. "Until this evening, Miss Fielding." + +"You are dining at Runton Place?" she asked quietly. + +"Yes," he answered. "Will you tell me all about your Andrew Pelham?" + +She raised her eyes to his and smiled. + +"Do you think that you would be interested?" she asked. + +"You know that I should," he answered quietly. + +For a time he shot badly. Then he felt that his host's eye was upon him, +and pulled himself together. But he was never at his best. He felt that +the whole world of his sensations had been suddenly disturbed. It was +impossible that there could be any connection between this girl and the +photograph which had first fired him with the impulse to undertake that +most extraordinary and quixotic mission. Yet the fact remained that the +girl herself had had very much the same effect upon him as his first +sight of the photograph. It was a coincidence, of course. Miss Fielding +was charming. There was no reason why he should not indulge to the full +his admiration of her. She had affected him in a most curious manner. +Another man would have declared himself in love with her. It was not +possible that she could be any one but Miss Fielding. That start which +he had fancied that he had noticed, the sudden aging of her face, the +look almost of fear! Absurd! He was losing his nerves. It was not +possible, he told himself steadfastly. And yet---- + +Some of the women were following them in a leisurely sort of way behind. +Miss Fielding was there, walking a little apart. She carried her hat in +her hand. The wind, which was blowing the skirts of her white cloth +dress about her, was making havoc in her glorious hair. She walked with +her head thrown back, with all the effortless grace of youth--a light +heart, an easy conscience. He deliberately left his place and walked +back to meet her. She waved her hand gayly. There was color in her +cheeks now, and her eyes laughed into his. The shadows were gone. He +felt that this was madness, and yet he said what he had come back to +say. + +"I thought that you might be interested to know, Miss Fielding, that you +will meet the gentleman--with the same name as your friend--this +evening. Lord Runton has been good enough to ask him to come up and +dine." + +She nodded gayly. + +"What a crowd of sentimental memories his coming will evoke!" she +declared. "Be nice to me, won't you, and help me dispel them?" + +"Perhaps," he said, smiling with a great relief; "I might prefer to try +to construct a few on my own account." + +"Go and do your duty," she commanded, laughing. + +Duncombe hastened to his place. His eyes were bright. He felt that he +was walking upon air. + +"What a double distilled ass I nearly made of myself!" he muttered. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION + + +She came into the room a little late, and her entrance created almost a +sensation. Duncombe only knew that she wore a black gown and looked +divine. Lady Runton murmured "Paquin" with a sigh and frown. + +"These girls might at least leave us black," she murmured to her +neighbor. "What pearls!" + +Duncombe stepped forward to meet her. He could not keep the admiration +from his eyes. Her shoulders and slim graceful neck were as white as +alabaster, her hair was a gorgeous brown kissed into fine gold +glimmering as though with a touch of some hidden fire. She moved with +the delightful freedom of absolute naturalness. He murmured something +which sounded ridiculously commonplace, and she laughed at him. + +"Do you know that you are going to take me in?" she said. "I hope that +you are prepared to be very amusing. Do tell me which is your friend." + +Then Duncombe remembered Andrew, who was standing by his side. He turned +towards him, and the words suddenly died away upon his lips. Andrew's +tall frame was shaking as though with some powerful emotion. He was +standing with his head thrust forward as though listening intently. +Duncombe set his teeth. + +"Will you allow me to present my friend Miss Fielding?" he said. +"Andrew, this is Miss Fielding. Mr. Pelham, Miss Fielding." + +She held out her hand and took his passive fingers. + +"I am so glad to know you, Mr. Pelham," she said pleasantly. "Sir George +gave me quite a shock to-day when he spoke of you. I was once very +nearly engaged to an Andrew Pelham in Baltimore, and I had most +distressing visions of all my old sweethearts turning up to spoil my +good time here." + +Andrew's voice sounded odd and restrained. + +"I have never been in America," he said. + +She laughed. + +"You need not be afraid that I am going to claim you," she declared. +"You are at least a foot taller than my Andrew. You don't even inspire +me with any tender recollections of him. Baron, I do hope that you have +not taken too much exercise." + +"My dear young lady," he answered, bowing, "I never felt better in my +life! Be thankful that it is not your hard fate to be my dinner +companion. I am so hungry I should have no time for conversation." + +"On the contrary," she declared, "I--almost regret it! I much prefer to +do some of the talking myself, but I seldom get a chance. Will you +promise to give me a show to-night, Sir George?" + +"As long as you permit me to say two or three things which are in my +mind," he answered, lowering his voice a little, "you may do all the +rest of the talking." + +"Dear me, I am curious already," she exclaimed. "What are the two or +three things, Sir George? Why! Do you see--nearly every one has gone," +she added suddenly. "Come along!" + +She laid her hand upon his arm and led him away. Soon he was by her side +at the table. Their companions were uninteresting. Andrew was out of +sight. Duncombe forgot everything else in the world except that he was +with her. + +Their conversation was of trifles, yet intimate trifles. The general +talk buzzed all round them. Neither made any effort to arrest it. To +Duncombe she seemed simply the image he had created and worshipped +suddenly come to life. That it was not in fact her picture went for +nothing. There was no infidelity. The girl who had existed in his dreams +was here. It was for her that he had departed from the even tenor of his +ways, for her he had searched in Paris, for her he had braved the +horrors of that unhappy week. Already he felt that she belonged to him, +and in a vague sort of way she, too, seemed to be letting herself drift, +to be giving color to his unconscious assumption by her lowered tone, by +the light in her eyes which answered his, by all those little nameless +trifles which go to the sealing of unwritten compacts. + +Once her manner changed. Her father, who was on the opposite side of the +table a little way off, leaned forward and addressed her. + +"Say, Sybil, where did we stay in Paris? I've forgotten the name of the +place." + +"L'hotel d'Athenes," she answered, and at once resumed her conversation +with Duncombe. + +But somehow the thread was broken. Duncombe found himself watching the +little gray man opposite, who ate and drank so sparingly, who talked +only when he was spoken to, and yet who seemed to be taking a keen but +covert interest in everything that went on about him. Her father! There +was no likeness, no shadow of a likeness. Yet Duncombe felt almost a +personal interest in him. They would know one another better some day, +he felt. + +"So you've been in Paris lately?" he asked her suddenly. + +She nodded. + +"For a few days." + +"I arrived from there barely a week ago," he remarked. + +"I hate the place!" she answered. "Talk of something else." + +And he obeyed. + +The second interruption came from Andrew. During a momentary lull in the +conversation they heard his firm clear voice talking. + +"My time was up yesterday, but I find so much to interest me down here +that I think I shall stay on for a few more days, if my host remains as +hospitable as ever." + +"So much to interest him," she murmured. "Are not all places the same to +the blind? What does he mean?" + +"He is not really blind!" Duncombe answered, lowering his voice. "He can +see things very dimly. The doctor has told him that if he wears those +glasses for a few more months he may be able to preserve some measure of +eyesight. Poor chap!" + +"He does not attract me--your friend," she said a little coldly. "What +can he find to interest him so much here? Do you see how he keeps his +head turned this way? It is almost as though he wished to listen to what +we were saying." + +"There is a sort of reason for that," Duncombe answered. "Shall I +explain it?" + +"Do!" + +"Pelham lives, as I think I told you, in a small country-house near +Raynesworth," Duncombe began. "The hall in his village was occupied by a +young man--a boy, really--and his sister. Early in the year the boy, who +had never been abroad, thought that he would like to travel a little in +Europe. He wandered about some time in Germany and Austria, and was +coming home by Paris. Suddenly all letters from him ceased. He did not +return. He did not write. He drew no money from his letter of credit. He +simply disappeared." + +The girl was proceeding tranquilly with her dinner. The story so far did +not seem to interest her. + +"His sister, who went over to Paris to meet him, found herself quite +alone there, and we supposed that she devoted herself to searching for +him. And then curiously enough she, too, disappeared. Letters from her +suddenly ceased. No one knew what had become of her." + +She looked at him with a faint smile. + +"Now," she said, "your story is becoming interesting. Do go on. I want +to know where you and Mr. Pelham come in." + +"Pelham, I think," he continued gravely, "was their oldest friend. He +sent for me. We were old college chums, and I went. This trouble with +his eyes had only just come on, and he was practically helpless--much +more helpless than the ordinary blind person, because it was all new to +him. This boy and girl were his old and dear friends. He was longing to +be off to Paris to search for them himself, and yet he knew that so far +as he was concerned it would be simply wasted time. He showed me the +girl's photograph." + +"Well?" + +"I went in his place." + +"And did you find either of them?" + +"No." + +"I wonder," she said, "why you have told me this story?" + +"I am going to tell you why," he answered. "Because when Pelham heard +you laugh last night he was like a madman. He believed that it was the +voice of Phyllis Poynton. And I--I--when I saw you, I also felt that +miracles were at hand. Look here!" + +He drew a photograph from his pocket and showed it to her. She looked at +it long and earnestly. + +"Yes," she admitted, "there is a likeness. It is like what I might have +been years ago. But will you tell me something?" + +"Of course!" + +"Why do you carry the picture of that girl about with you?" + +He leaned towards her, and at that moment Lady Runton rose from her +place. + +"In the winter garden afterwards," he whispered. "You have asked me the +very question that I wanted to answer!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE + + +There was something strange about Andrew's manner as he moved up to +Duncombe's side. The latter, who was in curiously high spirits, talked +incessantly for several minutes. Then he came to a dead stop. He was +aware that his friend was not listening. + +"What is the matter with you, old chap?" he asked abruptly. "You are +positively glum." + +Andrew Pelham shook his head. + +"Nothing much!" he said. + +"Rubbish! What is it?" + +Andrew dropped his voice almost to a whisper. The words came hoarsely. +He seemed scarcely master of himself. + +"The girl's voice tortures me," he declared. "It doesn't seem possible +that there can be two so much alike. And then Spencer's telegram. What +does it mean?" + +"Be reasonable, old fellow!" Duncombe answered. "You knew Phyllis +Poynton well. Do you believe that she would be content to masquerade +under a false name, invent a father, be received here--Heaven knows +how--and meet you, an old friend, as a stranger? The thing's absurd, +isn't it?" + +"Granted. But what about Spencer's telegram?" + +"It is an enigma, of course. We can only wait for his solution. I have +wired him the information he asked for. In the meantime----" + +"Well, in the meantime?" + +"There is nothing to be gained by framing absurd hypotheses. I don't +mind telling you, Andrew, that I find Miss Fielding the most delightful +girl I ever met in my life." + +"Tell me exactly, George, how she compares with the photograph you have +of Phyllis Poynton." + +Duncombe sipped his wine slowly. + +"She is very like it," he said, "and yet there are differences. She is +certainly a little thinner and taller. The features are similar, but the +hair is quite differently arranged. I should say that Miss Fielding is +two or three years older than Phyllis Poynton, and she has the air of +having travelled and been about more." + +"A few months of events," Andrew murmured, "might account for all those +differences." + +Duncombe laughed as he followed his host's lead and rose. + +"Get that maggot out of your brain, Andrew," he exclaimed, "as quickly +as possible. Will you take my arm? Mind the corner." + +They found the drawing-room almost deserted. Runton raised his eyeglass +and looked around. + +"I bet those women have collared the billiard table," he remarked. "Come +along, you fellows." + +They re-crossed the hall and entered the billiard-room. Lady Runton was +playing with the Lord Lieutenant's wife, the Countess of Appleton. The +others were all sitting about, either on the lounge or in the winter +garden beyond. Miss Fielding was standing on the threshold, and +Duncombe advanced eagerly towards her. On the way, however, he was +buttonholed by an acquaintance, and the master of the hounds had +something to say to him afterwards about one of his covers. When he was +free, Miss Fielding had disappeared. He made his way into the winter +garden, only to find her sitting in a secluded corner with the Baron. +She looked up at his entrance, but made no sign. Duncombe reluctantly +re-entered the billiard-room, and was captured by his host for a rubber +of bridge. + +The rubber was a long one. Duncombe played badly and lost his money. +Declining to cut in again, he returned to the winter garden. Miss +Fielding and the Baron were still together, only they had now pushed +their chairs a little further back, and were apparently engaged in a +very confidential conversation. Duncombe turned on his heel and +re-entered the billiard-room. + +It was not until the party broke up that he found a chance of speaking +to her. He was sensible at once of a change in her manner. She would +have passed him with a little nod, but he barred her way. + +"You have treated me shockingly," he declared, with a smile which was a +little forced. "You promised to let me show you the winter garden." + +"Did I?" she answered. "I am so sorry. I must have forgotten all about +it. The Baron has been entertaining me delightfully. Good night!" + +He half stood aside. + +"I haven't by any chance offended you, have I?" he asked in a low tone. + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"Certainly not!" she answered. "Excuse me, won't you? I want to speak +to Lady Runton before she goes upstairs." + +Duncombe stood on one side and let her pass with a stiff bow. As he +raised his eyes he saw that Mr. Fielding was standing within a few feet +of him, smoking a cigarette. He might almost have overheard their +conversation. + +"Good night, Mr. Fielding," he said, holding out his hand. "Are you +staying down here for long?" + +"For two days, I believe," Mr. Fielding answered. "My daughter makes our +plans." + +He spoke very slowly, but without any accent. Nothing in his appearance, +except perhaps the fact that he wore a black evening tie, accorded with +the popular ideas of the travelling American. + +"If you have an hour to spare," Duncombe said, "it would give me a great +deal of pleasure if you and your daughter would walk down and have a +look over my place. Part of the hall is Elizabethan, and I have some +relics which might interest Miss Fielding." + +Mr. Fielding removed the cigarette from his mouth. + +"I thank you very much, sir," he said. "We are Lord Runton's guests, and +our stay is so short that we could scarcely make any arrangements to +visit elsewhere. Glad to have had the pleasure of meeting you all the +same." + +Duncombe sought out his host. + +"Runton, old chap," he said, "do me a favor. Bring that fellow Fielding +and his daughter round to my place before they go." + +Lord Runton laughed heartily. + +"Is it a case?" he exclaimed. "And you, our show bachelor, too! Never +mind my chaff, old chap. She's a ripping good-looking girl, and money +enough to buy the country." + +"I don't mind your chaff," Duncombe answered, "but will you bring her?" + +Lord Runton looked thoughtful. + +"How the dickens can I? We are all shooting at the Duke's to-morrow, and +I believe they're off on Saturday. You're not in earnest by any chance, +are you, George?" + +"Damnably!" he answered. + +Lord Runton whistled softly. + +"Fielding doesn't shoot," he remarked, "but they're going with us to +Beaumanor. Shall I drop him a hint? He might stay a day longer--just to +make a few inquiries about you on the spot, you know." + +"Get him to stay a day longer, if you can," Duncombe answered, "but +don't give me away. The old chap's none too cordial as it is." + +"I must talk to him," Runton said. "Your Baronetcy is a thundering sight +better than any of these mushroom peerages. He probably doesn't +understand that sort of thing. But what about the girl? Old Von Rothe +has been making the running pretty strong, you know." + +"We all have to take our chance in that sort of thing," Duncombe said +quietly. "I am not afraid of Von Rothe!" + +"I'll do what I can for you," Runton promised. "Good night!" + +Andrew, who had left an hour or so earlier, was sitting in the library +smoking a pipe when his host returned. + +"Not gone to bed yet, then?" Duncombe remarked. "Let me make you a +whisky and soda, old chap. You look a bit tired." + +"Very good of you--I think I will," Andrew answered. "And, George, are +you sure that I should not be putting you out at all if I were to +stay--say another couple of days with you?" + +Duncombe wheeled round and faced his friend. His reply was not +immediate. + +"Andrew," he said, "you know very well that I haven't a pal in the world +I'd sooner have here than you for just as long as you choose to stay, +but--forgive me if I ask you one question. Is it because you want to +watch Miss Fielding that you have changed your mind?" + +"That has a good deal to do with it, George," Andrew said quietly. "If I +left without meeting that young lady again I should be miserable. I want +to hear her speak when she does not know that any one is listening." + +Duncombe crossed the room and laid his hand upon the other's shoulder. + +"Andrew, old fellow," he said, "I can't have it. I can't allow even my +best friend to spy upon Miss Fielding. You see--I've come a bit of a +cropper. Quick work, I suppose, you'd say. But I'm there all the same." + +"Who wants to spy upon Miss Fielding?" Andrew exclaimed hoarsely. "She +can be the daughter of a multi-millionaire or a penniless adventurer for +all I care. All I want is to be sure that she isn't Phyllis Poynton." + +"You are not yet convinced?" + +"No." + +There was a moment's silence. Duncombe walked to the window and +returned. + +"Andrew," he said, "doesn't what I told you just now make a +difference?" + +Andrew groaned. + +"Of course it would," he answered, "but--I'm fool enough to feel the +same about Phyllis Poynton." + +Duncombe, in the full glow of sensations which seemed to him to give a +larger and more wonderful outlook on life, felt his sympathies suddenly +awakened. Andrew Pelham, his old chum, sitting there with his huge, +disfiguring glasses and bowed head, was surely the type of all that was +pathetic. He forgot all his small irritation at the other's obstinacy. +He remembered only their long years of comradeship and the tragedy which +loomed over the life of his chosen friend. Once more his arm rested upon +his shoulder. + +"I'm a selfish brute, Andrew!" he said. "Stay as long as you please, and +get this idea out of your brain. I'm trying to get Miss Fielding and her +father down here, and if I can manage it anyhow I'll leave you two +alone, and you shall talk as long as you like. Come, we'll have a drink +together now and a pipe afterwards." + +He walked across to the sideboard, where the glasses and decanters were +arranged. Then for the first time he saw upon the tray awaiting him a +telegram. He gave a little exclamation as he tore it open. + +Andrew looked up. + +"What is it, George?" he asked. "A telegram?" + +Duncombe stood with his eyes glued upon the oblong strip of paper. A +curious pallor had crept into his face from underneath the healthy tan +of his complexion. Andrew, sightless though he was, seemed to feel the +presence in the room of some exciting influence. He rose to his feet and +moved softly across to the sideboard. + +"Is it a telegram, George?" he whispered hoarsely. "Read it to me. Is it +from Spencer?" + +Duncombe collected himself with an effort. + +"It's nothing," he answered with a little laugh, in which all the +elements of mirth were lacking, "nothing at all! A note from Heggs, my +head-keeper--about some poachers. Confound the fellow!" + +Andrew's hand was suddenly upon the sideboard, travelling furtively +across its shining surface. Duncombe watched it with a curious sense of +fascination. He felt altogether powerless to interfere. He was simply +wondering how long it would be before those long, powerful fingers +seized upon what they sought. He might even then have swept aside the +envelope, but he felt no inclination to do so. The fingers were moving +slowly but surely. Finally, with a little grab, they seized upon it. +Then there was another moment of suspense. + +Slowly the hand was withdrawn. Without a second's warning Duncombe felt +himself held in the grip of a giant. Andrew had him by the throat. + +"You have lied to me, George!" he cried. "There was a telegram!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +"WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?" + + +It seemed to Duncombe that time stood still. Andrew's face, wholly +disfigured by the hideous dark spectacles, unrecognizable, threatening, +was within a few inches of his own. He felt the other's hot breath upon +his cheek. For a moment there stole through his numbed senses the fear +of more terrible things. And then the grip which held him relaxed. +Andrew stood away gasping. The crisis was over. + +"You lied to me, George. Why?" + +Duncombe did not answer. He could not. It was as though his body had +been emptied of all breath. + +"You meant to keep the contents of that telegram a secret from me. Why? +Was I right after all? Read me that telegram, George. Read it me +truthfully." + +"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said. "He is coming here." + +"Here? Is he giving up the search? Has he failed, then?" + +"He does not say," Duncombe answered. "He says simply that he is coming +here. He has wired for a motor to meet him at Lynn. He may be here +to-night." + +A discordant laugh broke from Pelham's lips. + +"What about your Miss Fielding, now?" he exclaimed. "Why do you suppose +that he is leaving Paris, and coming here? I was right. I knew that I +was right." + +Duncombe stood up. His expanse of shirt-front was crumpled and battered. +His white tie was hanging down in ribbons. + +"Listen, Andrew!" he exclaimed. "I am speaking of the girl by whose side +I sat to-night at dinner, who calls herself Miss Fielding, who has--in +plain words--denied that she knows anything of Phyllis Poynton. I want +you to understand this. Whatever she may choose to call herself that +shall be her name. I will not have her questioned or bullied or watched. +If Spencer comes here to do either I have finished with him. I elect +myself her protector. I will stand between her and all suspicion of evil +things." + +"She has found a champion indeed!" Pelham exclaimed fiercely. "With Miss +Fielding I have nothing to do. Yet you had better understand this. If +she be Phyllis Poynton she belongs to me, and not to you. She was mine +before you heard her name. I have watched her grow up from a child, I +taught her to ride and to shoot and to swim. I have watched her +listening to the wind, bending over the flowers in her garden. I have +walked with her over the moor when the twilight fell and the mists rose. +We have seen the kindling of the stars, and we have seen the moon grow +pale and the eastern sky ablaze. I have taught her where to look for the +beautiful things of life. She has belonged to me in all ways, save one. +I am a poor, helpless creature now, George, but, by the gods, I will let +no one rob me of my one holy compensation. She is the girl I love; the +better part of myself." + +"Phyllis Poynton may be all these things to you," Duncombe answered. "I +do not know her. I do not recognize her. Find her, if you can; make of +her what you will. All that I ask of you is that you divest your mind of +these senseless suspicions. Seek Phyllis Poynton where you will, but +leave alone the woman whom I love. I will not have her troubled or +annoyed by needless importunities. She says she is Miss Fielding. Then +she is Miss Fielding. It is enough for me. It must be enough for you!" + +"And what about Spencer?" Pelham asked grimly. + +"Spencer in this matter is my servant," Duncombe answered. "If his +search for Phyllis Poynton entails his annoying Miss Fielding, then he +is dismissed. I will have no more to do with the business." + +"I have heard of this man Spencer," Andrew answered. "If you think that +he is the sort of creature whom you can order about like that, I fancy +that you are mistaken. You may try to call him off, if you like, but you +won't succeed. He is searching for Phyllis Poynton, and he is coming +here. I believe that he will find her." + +The windows were wide open, and both men suddenly turned round. There +was no mistaking the sound which came to them from the road outside--the +regular throb and beat of a perfectly balanced engine. Then they heard a +man's voice, cool and precise. + +"Here you are, then, and a sovereign for yourself. A capital little car +this. Good night!" + +The little iron gate opened and closed. A tall man in a loose +travelling-coat, and carrying a small bag, entered. He saw Duncombe +standing at the open window, and waved his hand. As he approached his +boyish face lit up into a smile. + +"What luck to find you up!" he exclaimed. "You got my telegram?" + +"An hour ago," Duncombe answered. "This is my friend, Mr. Andrew Pelham. +What will you have?" + +"Whisky and soda, and a biscuit, please," was the prompt reply. "Haven't +upset you, I hope, coming down from the clouds in this fashion?" + +"Not in the least," Duncombe answered. "You've made us very curious, +though." + +"Dear me!" Spencer exclaimed, "what a pity! I came here to ask +questions, not to answer them. You've set me a regular poser, Duncombe. +By Jove! that's good whisky." + +"Help yourself," Duncombe answered. "We won't bother you to-night. I'll +show you a room as soon as you've had a cigarette. Fair crossing?" + +"No idea," Spencer answered. "I slept all the way. Jolly place you've +got here, Duncombe. Nice country, too." + +"There is just one question," Pelham began. + +"Sha'n't answer it--to-night," Spencer interrupted firmly. "I'm dead +sleepy, and I couldn't guarantee to tell the truth. And when to-morrow +comes--I'll be frank with you--I've very little to say. Pardon me, but +where does Mr. Pelham come in in this matter?" + +"Pelham," Duncombe said slowly, "was a neighbor of Miss Poynton's, in +Devonshire. It was through him that I first went to Paris to search for +her." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Glad to meet him, then," he remarked. "There are a few questions I +shall be glad to ask him in the morning." + +"There is one," Pelham said, "which you must answer now." + +Spencer raised his eyebrows. He was standing with his back to them now, +helping himself to sandwiches from a dish upon the sideboard. + +"By Jove, your cook does understand these things," he remarked, with his +mouth full. "No idea I was so hungry. What was that, Mr. Pelham? A +question which must be answered now?" + +"Yes. You telegraphed to Duncombe to know the names of Lord Runton's +guests, and now you have come here yourself. Why?" + +Spencer helped himself to another sandwich. + +"I came here," he said, "because I didn't seem to be getting on in +Paris. It struck me that the clue to Miss Poynton's disappearance might +after all be on this side of the Channel." + +Pelham guided himself by the table to the sideboard. He stood close to +Spencer. + +"Mr. Spencer," he said, "I am almost blind, and I cannot see your face, +but I want you to tell me the truth. I expect it from you." + +"My dear fellow," Spencer answered. "I'm awfully sorry for you, of +course, but I really don't see why I should answer your questions at +all, truthfully or untruthfully. I have been making a few inquiries for +my friend Duncombe. At present I regret to say that I have been +unsuccessful. In their present crude state I should prefer keeping my +discoveries, such as they are, to myself." + +Pelham struck the sideboard with his clenched fist so that all the +glasses rattled upon the tray. His face was dark with passion. + +"I will not be ignored in this matter," he declared. "Phyllis Poynton +and her brother are nothing to Duncombe. He acted only for me. He cannot +deny it. Ask him for yourself." + +"I do not need to ask him," Spencer answered. "I am perfectly well aware +of the circumstances of the case. All the same, I go about my business +my own way. I am not ready to answer questions from you or anybody +else." + +"You shall tell me this at least," Pelham declared. "You shall tell me +why you telegraphed here for the names of Lord Runton's house party." + +"Simplest thing in the world," Spencer answered, relinquishing his +attack upon the sandwiches, and lighting a cigarette. "I did it to +oblige a friend who writes society notes for the 'New York Herald.'" + +Duncombe gave vent to a little exclamation of triumph. Pelham for the +moment was speechless. + +"Awfully sorry if I misled you in any way," Spencer continued. "I never +imagined your connecting my request with the disappearance of Phyllis +Poynton. Why should I?" + +"The fact is," Duncombe interposed, "there is a girl staying at Runton +Place whose voice Pelham declares is exactly like Phyllis Poynton's, and +whose general appearance, I will admit, is somewhat similar to the +photograph I showed you. It is a coincidence, of course, but beyond that +it is absurd to go. This young lady is a Miss Fielding. She is there +with her father, and they are invited guests, with all the proper +credentials." + +Spencer nodded. + +"I suppose it is because I am not a lady's man," he said carelessly, +"but I must admit that all girls' voices sound pretty much alike to me." + +"I wish to Heaven that I could see your face!" Pelham exclaimed, "I +should know then whether you were telling me the truth." + +"The weak point about my temporary profession is," Spencer remarked +thoughtfully, "that it enables even strangers to insult one with +impunity." + +"If I have misjudged you," Pelham said with some dignity, "I am sorry. I +am to understand, then, that you have no news whatever to give us about +the disappearance of Phyllis Poynton and her brother?" + +"Not a scrap!" Spencer answered. + +"I will wish you both good night, then," Pelham said. "No, don't +trouble, George. I can find my way quite well by myself." + +He disappeared, and Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief. + +"Excitable person, your friend!" Spencer remarked. + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Very! I am frightened to death that he will make an ass of himself +before Miss Fielding. If he hears her speak he loses his head." + +"Nice girl?" Spencer asked. + +"Yes--very!" + +"What sort of a fellow's the father?" + +"Very quiet. I've scarcely spoken to him. They're Americans. Friends of +Lord Runton's brother, out in New York. Ever heard of them?" + +"Yes. A few times." + +"You seem interested." + +"I am--very." + +Duncombe turned suddenly white. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +Spencer held his cigarette between his fingers and looked at it +thoughtfully. + +"Mr. Fielding, of New York," he said, "sailed for America from Havre +last Saturday. His daughter has gone to Russia with a party of friends." + +Duncombe sprang from his seat. His cigarette slipped from his fingers +and fell unheeded upon the carpet. + +"Then who--who are these people?" he exclaimed. + +Spencer shrugged his shoulders. + +"I thought it worth while," he said, "to come over and find out." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER + + +A few minutes before ten the following morning a mounted messenger from +Runton Place brought the following note for Duncombe:-- + + "RUNTON PLACE, _Friday Morning_. + + "MY DEAR DUNCOMBE,--Fielding has cried off the shoot + to-day. Says he has a motor coming over for him to try from + Norwich, and his dutiful daughter remains with him. Thought I + would let you know in case you cared to come and look them up. + Best I could do for you. + + "Ever yours sincerely, + + "RUNTON." + +Duncombe had breakfasted alone. Pelham had asked for something to be +sent up for him, and Spencer, after a cup of coffee in his room, had +gone out. Duncombe did not hesitate for a moment. He started at once for +Runton Place. + +A marvellous change had taken place in the weather since the previous +day. The calm splendor of the early autumn seemed to have vanished. A +strong north wind was blowing, and the sky was everywhere gray and +threatening. The fields of uncut corn were bent, like the waves of the +sea, and the yellow leaves came down from the trees in showers. Piled up +masses of black clouds were driven across the sky. Scanty drops of rain +kept falling, an earnest of what was to come as soon as the wind should +fail. Duncombe had almost to fight his way along until, through a +private gate, he entered Runton Park. The house lay down in the valley +about a mile away. To reach it one had to cross a ridge of hills covered +with furze bushes and tumbled fragments of ancient rock. + +Half-way up the first ascent he paused. A figure had struggled into +sight from the opposite side--the figure of a girl. Her skirts and cloak +were being blown wildly about her. She wore a flat Tam-o'-Shanter hat, +from under the confines of which her hair was defying the restraint of +hatpins and elastic. She stood there swaying a little from the violence +of the wind, slim and elegant, notwithstanding a certain intensity of +gaze and bearing. Duncombe felt his heart give a quick jump as he +recognized her. Then he started up the hill as fast as he could go. + +She stood perfectly still, watching him clamber up to her side. Her face +showed no sign of pleasure or annoyance at his coming. He felt at once +that it was not he alone who had realized the coming of the tragedy. + +No words of conventional greeting passed between them as he clambered +breathless to her side. The wind had brought no color into her cheeks. +There were rims under her eyes. She had the appearance of one who had +come into touch with fearsome things. + +"What do you want with me?" she asked. "Why are you here?" + +"To be with you," he answered. "You know why." + +She laughed mirthlessly. + +"Better go back," she exclaimed. "I am no fit companion for any one +to-day. I came out to be alone." + +A gust of wind came tearing up the hillside. They both struggled for +breath. + +"I came," he said, "to find you. I was going to the house. Something has +happened which you ought to know." + +She looked back towards the long white front of the house, and there was +terror in her eyes. + +"Something is happening there," she muttered, "and I am afraid." + +He took her gloveless hand. It was as cold as ice. She did not resist +his touch, but her fingers lay passively in his. + +"Let me be your friend," he pleaded. "Never mind what has happened, or +what is going to happen. You are in trouble. Let me share it with you." + +"You cannot," she answered. "You, nor any one else in the world. Let me +go! You don't understand!" + +"I understand more than you think!" he answered. + +She turned her startled eyes upon him. + +"What do you mean?" she cried. + +"I mean that the man whom we employed to trace the whereabouts of +Phyllis Poynton and her brother arrived from Paris last night," he +answered. "He wanted a list of Lord Runton's house party. Can you guess +why?" + +"Go on!" + +"Mr. Fielding, of New York, left Havre on Saturday----" + +"Stop!" + +Her voice was a staccato note of agony. Between the fingers which were +pressed to her face he could see the slow, painful flushing of her +cheeks. + +"Why did you come to tell me this?" she asked in a low tone. + +"You know," he answered. + +"Did you guess last night that we were impostors?" she asked. + +"Certainly not," he answered. "Andrew was tortured with doubts about +you. He believed that you were Phyllis Poynton!" + +"I am!" she whispered. "I was afraid of him all the evening. He must +have known." + +It seemed to Duncombe that the rocks and gorse bushes were spinning +round and the ground was swaying under his feet. The wind, which had +kept them both half breathless, seemed full of mocking voices. She was +an impostor. These were her own words. She was in danger of detection, +perhaps of other things. At that very moment Spencer might have gained +an entrance into Runton Place. He felt uncertain of himself, and all the +time her eyes watched him jealously. + +"Why did you come here?" she cried. "Why do you look at me like that? It +is no concern of yours who I am. Why do you interfere?" + +"Everything that concerns you concerns me," he answered. "I don't care +who you are, or who you say you are. I don't even ask you for any sort +of explanation. I came to warn you about Spencer. For the rest, here am +I your friend whatever happens. You are terrified! Don't go back to the +house. Give me the right to take care of you. I'll do it!" + +Then for the first time a really human expression lit up her face. The +sick fear passed away. Her features were suddenly softer. The light in +her eyes was a beautiful thing. + +"You are kind," she murmured, "kinder than I ever dreamed any one could +be who--knew. Will you be kinder still?" + +"Try me!" he begged. + +"Then go away. Forget who I am. Forget who I am not. Shut yourself up in +your study for twenty-four hours, and come out without any memories at +all. Oh, do this for me--do this!" she begged, with a sudden break in +her voice. + +She leaned a little towards him. A long wisp of her hair blew in his +face. A moment of madness came to him with the gust of wind which blew +her almost into his arms. For one exquisite moment he held her. The +violets at her bosom were crushed against his coat. Then she tore +herself away. + +"You are mad," she cried. "It is my fault. Oh, let me go!" + +"Never," he answered, passionately clasping at her hand. "Call yourself +by what name you will, I love you. If you are in trouble, let me help. +Let me go back to the house with you, and we will face it together, +whatever it may be. Come!" + +She wrung her hands. The joy had all gone from her face. + +"Oh, what have I done?" she moaned. "Don't you understand that I am an +impostor? The man down there is not my father. I--oh, let me go!" + +She wrenched herself free. She stood away from him, her skirt gathered +up into her hand, prepared for flight. + +"If you would really do me a kindness," she cried, "get Mr. Spencer to +stop his search for me. Tell him to forget that such a person ever +existed. And you, too! You must do the same. What I have done, I have +done of my own free will. I am my own mistress. I will not be interfered +with. Listen!" + +She turned a white, intent face towards the house. Duncombe could hear +nothing for the roaring of the wind, but the girl's face was once more +convulsed with terror. + +"What was that?" she cried. + +"I heard nothing," he answered. "What can one hear? The wind is strong +to drown even our voices." + +"And those?" she cried again, pointing with outstretched finger to two +rapidly moving black specks coming towards them along the winding road +which led from the highway to Runton Place. + +Duncombe watched them for a moment. + +"They are the Runton shooting brakes," he declared. + +"I expect Lord Runton and the rest of them are coming back." + +"Coming back!" she repeated, with a little gasp. + +"But they were going to shoot all day and dine there. They are not +expected home till past midnight." + +"I expect the shoot is off," Duncombe remarked. "One couldn't possibly +hit anything a day like this. I wonder they ever started." + +Her face was white enough before, but it was deathly now. Her lips +parted, but only a little moan came from them. He heard the rush of her +skirts, and saw her spring forward. He was left alone upon the hilltop. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MR. FIELDING IN A NEW ROLE + + +Runton was apparently enjoying the relaxation of having got rid of +practically the whole of its guests for the day. The women servants were +going about their duties faithfully enough, but with a marked absence of +any superfluous energy. Mr. Harrison, the butler, was enjoying a quiet +pipe in his room and a leisurely perusal of the morning paper. Mrs. +Ellis, the much-respected housekeeper, was also in her room comfortably +ensconced in an easy-chair, and studying a new volume of collected menus +which a friend had sent her from Paris. The servants were not exactly +neglecting their work, but every one was appreciating a certain sense of +peace which the emptying of the house from a crowd of more or less +exacting guests had brought about. + +In one room only things were different, and neither Mrs. Ellis nor Mr. +Harrison, nor any of the household, knew anything about that. It was the +principal guest-chamber on the first floor--a large and handsomely +furnished apartment. Barely an hour ago it had been left in spotless +order by a couple of painstaking servants. Just now it had another +aspect. + +In the middle of the room a man lay stretched upon the floor, face +downwards. The blood was slowly trickling from a wound in the side of +the head down on to the carpet. With nearly every breath he drew he +groaned. Overturned chairs and tables showed that he had taken part in +no ordinary struggle. The condition of the other man also testified +this. + +The other man was Mr. Fielding. He was down on his knees upon the floor, +rapidly going through the contents of a dark mahogany box, which was +apparently full of papers. Scattered over the carpet by his side were +various strange-looking tools, by means of which he had forced the lock. +Mr. Fielding was not at all his usual self. His face was absolutely +colorless, and every few moments his hand went up to his shoulder-blade +and a shiver went through his whole frame. There was a faint odor of +gunpowder in the room, and somewhere near the feet of the prostrate man +lay a small shining revolver. Nevertheless, Mr. Fielding persevered in +his task. + +Suddenly there came an interruption. Footsteps outside in the corridor +had paused. There was a sharp tapping at the door. The prostrate man +groaned louder than ever, and half turned over, proving that he was not +wholly unconscious. Mr. Fielding closed the box and staggered to his +feet. + +He stood for a moment staring wildly at the door. Who could it be? He +had asked, as a special favor, that he might not be disturbed, and Mr. +Fielding knew how to ask favors of servants. Interruption now meant +disaster, absolute and unqualified--the end, perhaps, of a career in +which he had achieved some success. Big drops of perspiration stood out +upon his forehead, drawn there by the pain and this new fear. Slowly, +and on tiptoe, he drew near the door. + +"Who is that?" he asked with wonderful calmness. + +"It is I! Let me in," came the swift answer, and Mr. Fielding drew a +little breath of relief. Nevertheless he was angry. He opened the door +and drew the girl in. + +"You fool!" he exclaimed. "I sent you out of the way on purpose. Why +have you come back?" + +She opened her lips, but no words came. The man on the floor groaned +again. She swayed upon her feet. It was all so horrible. + +"Speak, can't you!" he muttered between his teeth. "Things have gone +badly here. I'm wounded, and I'm afraid--I've hurt that chap--pretty +badly." + +"I was in the park," she faltered, "and saw them. They are all coming +back." + +"Coming back?" + +"They are almost here. Sir George Duncombe told me that they could not +shoot because of the wind." + +"The car?" + +"Downstairs--waiting." + +He had forgotten his hurt. He caught up his hat and a coat, and pushed +her out of the room. He locked the door, and thrust the key into his +pocket. As they walked down the corridor he lit a cigarette. + +A footman met them in the hall. + +"A gentleman has called to see you, sir--a Mr. Spencer," he announced. +"I have shown him into the library." + +Mr. Fielding appeared to hesitate for a moment. + +"It is the man who wants to sell us the car," he exclaimed, turning +towards the girl, "but I haven't even seen it yet. Better tell him to +wait for a quarter of an hour," he added, turning towards the footman. +"I'll just drive down to the lodge gates and back. Come along, Sybil." + +She followed him to the front door. A man was seated at the wheel of the +motor car, and turned his head quickly as they approached. Mr. Fielding +nodded pleasantly, though his face was white with excruciating pain. + +"Kept you waiting, I'm afraid," he said. "Can you drive at all in a wind +like this?" + +"Jump in, sir, and see," the man answered. "Is the young lady coming?" + +Mr. Fielding nodded, and stepped into the front seat. The girl was +already in the tonneau. The man slipped in his clutch, and they glided +round the broad, circular sweep in front of the entrance. Just as they +started the wagonette drew up. + +"We sha'n't be more than a few minutes," Mr. Fielding cried out, waving +his hand. "Sorry you've lost your day's sport." + +"Hold on a minute, and I'll come with you," Runton called out. "That car +looks like going." + +But Mr. Fielding did not hear. + + * * * * * + +Duncombe, who had returned from the park by the fields, was crossing the +road to enter his own gates, when a black speck far away on the top of +the hill attracted his attention. He stood still gazing at it, and was +instantly aware that it was approaching him at an almost incredible +speed. It gathered shape swiftly, and he watched it with a fascination +which kept him rooted to the spot. Above the wind he could hear the +throbbing of its engines. He saw it round a slight curve in the road, +with two wheels in the air, and a skid which seemed for a moment as +though it must mean destruction. Mud and small stones flew up around it. +The driver was crouching forward over the wheel, tense and motionless. +Duncombe moved to the side of the road to let it pass, with a little +exclamation of anger. + +Then it came more clearly into sight, and he forgot his anger in his +amazement. The seat next the driver was occupied by a man leaning far +back, whose face was like the face of the dead. Behind was a solitary +passenger. She was leaning over, as though trying to speak to her +companion. Her hair streamed wild in the wind, and on her face was a +look of blank and fearful terror. Duncombe half moved forward. She saw +him, and touched the driver's arm. His hand seemed to fly to the side of +the car, and his right foot was jammed down. With grinding of brakes and +the screaming of locked wheels, the car was brought to a standstill +within a few feet of him. He sprang eagerly forward. She was already +upon her feet in the road. + +"Sir George," she said, "your warning, as you see, was barely in time. +We are adventurer and adventuress--detected. I suppose you are a +magistrate. Don't you think that you ought to detain us?" + +"What can I do to help you?" he asked simply. + +She looked at him eagerly. There were mud spots all up her gown, even +upon her face. Her hair was wildly disordered. She carried her hat in +her hand. + +"You mean it?" she cried. + +"You know that I do!" + +She turned and looked up the road along which they had come. There was +no soul in sight. She looked even up at the long line of windows which +frowned down upon them from the back of the Hall. They, too, were +empty. She thrust a long envelope suddenly into his hand. + +"Guard this for me," she whispered. "Don't let any one know that you +have it. Don't speak of it to any one. Keep it until I can send for it." + +He thrust it into his inner pocket and buttoned his coat. + +"It is quite safe," he said simply. + +Her eyes flashed her gratitude upon him. For the first time he saw +something in her face--heard it in her tone, which made his heart beat. +After all she was human. + +"You are very good to me," she murmured. "Believe me, I am not quite as +bad as I seem. Good-bye." + +He turned with her towards the car, and she gave a low cry. He too +started. The car was a mile away, tearing up a hill, and almost out of +sight. In the lane behind they could hear the sound of galloping horses. +He caught her by the wrist, dragged her through the gate, and behind a +great shrub on the lawn. + +"Stay there!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Don't move. I will come back." + +Half a dozen horsemen were coming along the lane at steeplechase pace. +Lord Runton, on his wonderful black horse, which no man before had ever +seen him gallop save across the softest of country, pulled up outside +the gate. + +"Seen a motor go by, Duncombe?" he called out. + +Duncombe nodded. + +"Rather!" he answered. "Fielding and Miss Fielding in it. Going like +Hell!" + +Runton waved his companions on, and leaned down to Duncombe. + +"Beastly unpleasant thing happened, Duncombe," he said. "Fielding and +his daughter have bolted. Fielding seems to have half killed a messenger +who came down from London to see Von Rothe, and stolen some papers. Fact +of the matter is he's not Fielding at all--and as for the girl! Lord +knows who she is. Sorry for you, Duncombe. Hope you weren't very hard +hit!" + +He gathered up his reins. + +"We've sent telegrams everywhere," he said, "but the beast has cut the +telephone, and Von Rothe blasphemes if we talk about the police. It's a +queer business." + +He rode off. Duncombe returned where the girl was standing. She was +clutching at the branches of the shrub as though prostrate with fear, +but at his return she straightened herself. How much had she heard he +wondered. + +"Don't move!" he said. + +She nodded. + +"Can any one see me?" she asked. + +"Not from the road." + +"From the house?" + +"They could," he admitted, "but it is the servants' dinner hour. Don't +you notice how quiet the house is?" + +"Yes." + +She was very white. She seemed to find some difficulty in speaking. +There was fear in her eyes. + +"It would not be safe for you to leave here at present," he said. "I am +going to take you into a little room leading out of my study. No one +ever goes in it. You will be safe there for a time." + +"If I could sit down--for a little while." + +He took her arm, and led her unresistingly towards the house. The +library window was closed, but he opened it easily, and helped her +through. At the further end of the room was an inner door, which he +threw open. + +"This is a room which no one except myself ever enters," he said. "I +used to do a little painting here sometimes. Sit down, please, in that +easy-chair. I am going to get you a glass of wine." + +They heard the library door suddenly opened. A voice, shaking with +passion, called out his name. + +"Duncombe, are you here? Duncombe!" + +There was a dead silence. They could hear him moving about the room. + +"Hiding, are you? Brute! Come out, or I'll--by heavens, I'll shoot you +if you don't tell me the truth. I heard her voice in the lane. I'll +swear to it." + +Duncombe glanced quickly towards his companion. She lay back in the +chair in a dead faint. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A WOMAN'S CRY + + +The three men were sitting at a small round dining-table, from which +everything except the dessert had been removed. Duncombe filled his own +glass and passed around a decanter of port. Pelham and Spencer both +helped themselves almost mechanically. A cloud of restraint had hung +over the little party. Duncombe raised his glass and half emptied its +contents. Then he set it down and leaned back in his chair. + +"Well," he said, "I am ready for the inquisition. Go on, Andrew." + +Pelham fingered his own glass nervously. He seemed to find his task no +easy one. + +"George," he said, "we are old friends. I want you to remember it. I +want you also to remember that I am in a hideous state of worry and +nerves"--he passed his hand over his forehead just above his eyes as +though they were hurting him. "I am not behaving to you as a guest +should to his host. I admit it freely. I have lost my temper more than +once during the last twenty-four hours. I am sorry! Forgive me if you +can, George!" + +"Willingly, Andrew," Duncombe answered. "I shall think no more about +it." + +"At the same time," Pelham continued, "there is another point to be +considered. Have you been quite fair to me, George? Remember that +Phyllis Poynton is the one person whose existence reconciles me to life. +You had never even heard her name before I sent for you. You went +abroad, like the good fellow you are, to find her for me. You assure me +that you have discovered--nothing. Let me put you upon your honor, +George. Is this absolutely true?" + +"I have discovered nothing about Phyllis Poynton," Duncombe declared +quietly. + +"About Miss Fielding then?" + +"Phyllis Poynton and Miss Fielding are two very different persons," +Duncombe declared. + +"That may be so," Pelham said, "although I find it hard to believe that +God ever gave to two women voices so exactly similar. Yet if you are +assured that this is so, why not be altogether frank with me?" + +"What have you to complain of?" Duncombe asked. + +"Something has happened at Runton Place, in which Mr. Fielding and his +daughter are concerned," Pelham continued. "I have heard all manner of +strange rumors. This afternoon I distinctly heard the girl's voice in +the lane outside. She was crying out as though in fear. A few minutes +later I heard you speaking to some one in the library. Yet when I +entered the room you would not answer me." + +"Supposing I grant everything that you say, Andrew," Duncombe answered. +"Supposing I admit that strange things have happened with regard to Mr. +Fielding and his daughter which have resulted in their leaving Runton +Place--even that she was there in the lane this afternoon--how does all +this concern you?" + +"Because," Pelham declared, striking the table with his fist, "I am not +satisfied that the girl who has been staying at Runton Place, and +calling herself Miss Fielding, is not in reality Phyllis Poynton." + +Duncombe lit a cigarette, and passed the box round. + +"Do you know what they are saying to-night of Mr. Fielding and his +daughter?" he asked quietly. + +"No!" + +"That the one is a robber, and the other an adventuress," Duncombe +answered. "This much is certainly true. They have both left Runton Place +at a moment's notice, and without taking leave of their host and +hostess. Remember, I never knew Phyllis Poynton. You did! Ask yourself +whether she is the sort of young person to obtain hospitality under +false pretences, and then abuse it--to associate herself in a fraud with +a self-confessed robber." + +"The idea," Pelham said quietly, "is absurd." + +"While we are on the subject," Spencer remarked, drawing the cigarettes +towards him, "may I ask you a few questions, Mr. Pelham? For instance, +had Miss Poynton any relations in France?" + +"Not to my knowledge," Pelham answered. "I have known both her and her +brother for a great many years, and I never heard either of them mention +any." + +"Why did she go to Paris, then?" + +"To meet her brother." + +"And why did he go abroad?" + +"It was a whim, I think. Just a desire to see a few foreign countries +before he settled down to live the life of a country gentleman." + +"You believe that he had no other reason?" + +"I think I may go so far as to say that I am sure of it," Pelham +answered. + +"One more question," Spencer added, intervening. + +But the question remained unasked. The butler had opened the dining-room +door and was announcing Lord Runton. + +Duncombe rose to his feet in surprise. For the moment a sudden fear drew +the color from his cheeks. + +He looked apprehensively towards his unexpected visitor. Lord Runton, +however, showed no signs of any great discomposure. He was wearing his +ordinary dinner clothes, and in reply to Duncombe's first question +assured him that he had dined. + +"I will try a glass of your port, if I may, George," he declared. +"Thanks!" + +The butler had wheeled a chair up to the table for him, and left the +room. Lord Runton filled his glass and sent the decanter round. Then he +turned towards Spencer, to whom he had just been introduced. + +"Mr. Spencer," he said, "my visit to-night is mainly to you. I dare say +you are aware that a somewhat unpleasant thing has happened at my house. +My people tell me that you called there this morning and inquired for +Mr. Fielding." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Quite true," he answered. "I called, but did not see him. He appears to +have left somewhat hurriedly while I was waiting." + +"You did not even catch a glimpse of him?" + +"No!" + +"You know Mr. Fielding by sight, I presume?" + +"I have seen him in Paris once or twice," Spencer answered. + +"You will not think me impertinent for asking you these questions, I am +sure," Lord Runton continued apologetically, "but could you describe Mr. +Fielding to me?" + +"Certainly," Spencer answered. "He was tall and thin, wears glasses, was +clean-shaven, bald, and limped a little." + +Lord Runton nodded. + +"Thank you," he said. "I presume that your visit this morning was one of +courtesy. You are acquainted with Mr. Fielding?" + +"I have not that pleasure," Spencer answered. "I am afraid I must +confess that my visit was purely one of curiosity." + +"Curiosity!" Lord Runton repeated. + +"Exactly. Do you mind passing those excellent cigarettes of yours, +Duncombe?" + +Lord Runton hesitated for a moment. He was conscious of a certain +restraint in Spencer's answers. Suddenly he turned towards him. + +"Mr. Spencer," he said, "may I ask if you are Mr. Jarvis Spencer, of the +'Daily Messenger'--the Mr. Spencer who was mentioned in connection with +the investigations into the Lawson estates?" + +Spencer nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "I am that person." + +"Then," Lord Runton continued, "I want to tell you exactly what has +happened to-day in my house, and to ask your advice. May I?" + +"If our host has no objection," Spencer answered, glancing towards +Pelham. + +"None whatever," Duncombe answered, also glancing towards Pelham. + +There was a moment's silence. Pelham raised his head. + +"If Lord Runton desires it, I will withdraw," he said slowly. "At the +same time I must confess that I, too, am interested in this matter. If +Lord Runton has no objection to my presence I should like to remain. My +discretion goes without saying." + +Duncombe moved uneasily in his chair. His eyes sought Spencer's for +guidance, but found his head averted. Lord Runton raised his eyebrows +slightly at what he considered a somewhat vulgar curiosity, but his +reply was prompt. + +"You are a friend of Duncombe's, Mr. Pelham," he said, "and that is +enough. I have to ask not only you, but all three of you, to consider +what I am going to tell you as absolutely confidential." + +They all signified their assent. Lord Runton continued:-- + +"Mr. and Miss Fielding came to me with letters from my brother, and with +many convincing proofs of their identity. We none of us had the +slightest suspicion concerning them. Their behavior was exactly what it +should have been. Nothing about them excited remark in any way, except +the unusual number of telegrams and telephone messages which Mr. +Fielding was always receiving. That, however, was quite in accord with +our ideas of an American business man, and didn't seem to us in the +least remarkable." + +"The telegrams were delivered through a neighboring office?" Spencer +asked quietly. + +"Yes," Lord Runton answered, "but they were all in code. I happen to +know that because the postmaster brought the first one up himself, and +explained that he was afraid that he must have made some mistake as the +message was incomprehensible. Fielding only laughed, and gave the man a +sovereign. The message was absolutely correct, he declared. He told me +afterwards that whenever he was speculating he always coded his +messages, and it seemed perfectly reasonable." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Just so!" he murmured. + +"This morning," Lord Runton continued, "Mr. Fielding rather upset our +plans. We were all to have spent the day at the Duke's, and dined there. +There was a big shoot for the men, as you know. At breakfast-time, +however, Mr. Fielding announced that he had a man coming over with a +motor car from Norwich for them to try, and begged to be excused. So we +had to go without them. + +"Von Rothe was staying with me, as you know, and just before we started +he had a telegram that a messenger from the Embassy was on his way down. +He hesitated for some time as to whether he ought not to stay at home so +as to be here when he arrived, but we persuaded him to come with us, and +promised to send him back after luncheon. When we got to Chestow, +however, the wind had become a gale, and it was impossible to shoot +decently. Von Rothe was a little uneasy all the time, I could see, so he +and I and a few of the others returned here, and the rest went up to +Chestow. Just as we arrived Fielding passed us in a great motor car with +his daughter behind. When we got to the house Von Rothe inquired for the +messenger. He was told that he was in Mr. Fielding's sitting-room, but +when we got there we found the door locked, and through the key-hole we +could hear a man groaning. We broke the door in and found Von Rothe's +messenger half unconscious, and a rifled despatch box upon the floor. He +has given us no coherent account of what has happened yet, but it is +quite certain that he was attacked and robbed by Mr. Fielding." + +"What was stolen?" Spencer asked. "Money?" + +"No, a letter," Lord Runton answered. "Von Rothe says very little, but I +never saw a man so broken up. He has left for London to-night." + +"The matter is in the hands of the police, of course?" Spencer asked. + +Lord Runton shook his head. + +"Von Rothe took me into his room and locked the door a few minutes after +we had discovered what had happened. He implored me to keep the whole +affair from the Press and from publicity in any form. His whole career +was at stake, he said, and very much more than his career. All that we +could do was to follow Mr. Fielding and drag him back by force if we +could. Even then he had little hope of recovering the letter. We did our +best, but, of course, we had no chance. Mr. Fielding and his daughter +simply drove off. Von Rothe is dealing with the affair in his own way." + +"It is a most extraordinary story," Spencer said quietly. + +Lord Runton turned towards him. + +"I have treated you with confidence, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Will you +tell me now why you called at my house to see Mr. Fielding to-day?" + +Spencer hesitated, but only for a moment. + +"Certainly," he said. "I came because I knew that Mr. Fielding was +half-way to America, and his daughter in Russia. Some friends of mine +were curious to know who your guests could be." + +Pelham raised his head. + +"You lied to me then!" he exclaimed. + +"I had as much right to lie to you," Spencer answered calmly, "as you +had to ask me questions. I had----" + +He stopped short in the middle of his sentence. The faces of the three +men were a study in varying expressions. From some other part of the +house there came to them the sound of a woman's sudden cry of +terror--the cry of a woman who had awakened suddenly to look into the +face of death. Duncombe's uplifted glass fell with a crash upon the +table. The red wine trickled across the table-cloth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS + + +Duncombe was out of the room in a very few seconds. The others hesitated +for a moment whether to follow him or not. Spencer was the first to rise +to his feet and moved towards the door. Lord Runton and Pelham followed +a moment or two later. Outside in the hall the house was perfectly +silent. + +Duncombe reached the library door just in time to find himself +confronted by half a dozen of the men and women servants coming from the +back of the house. With his hand upon the door-knob he waved them back. + +"Be so good, Mrs. Harrison," he said to the housekeeper, "as to keep +better order in the servants' hall. We could hear some girls calling or +laughing in the dining-room." + +"Indeed, sir," Mrs. Harrison answered with some dignity, "the noise, +whatever it was, did not come from the servants' quarters. We fancied +that it came from your library." + +"Quite impossible," Duncombe answered coolly. "If I require any one I +will ring." + +He passed through the door and locked it on the inside. In half a dozen +hasty strides he was across the room and inside the smaller apartment +where he had left the girl. With a little gasp of relief he realized +that she was there still. She was pale, and a spot of color was blazing +in her cheeks. Her hair and dress were a little disordered. With +trembling fingers she was fastening a little brooch into her blouse as +he entered. A rush of night air struck him from a wide-open window. + +"What has happened?" he called out. + +"I have been terrified," she answered. "I am sorry I called out. I could +not help it. A man came here--through the window. He talked so fast that +I could scarcely hear what he said, but he wanted that paper. I tried to +make him understand that I had not got it, but he did not believe +me--and he was rude." + +Duncombe shut down the window, swearing softly to himself. + +"I cannot stay with you," he said, "just now. The whole house is alarmed +at your cry. Listen!" + +There was a loud knocking at the library door. Duncombe turned hastily +away. + +"I must let them in," he said. "I will come back to you." + +She pointed to the window. + +"He is coming back," she said, "at twelve o'clock." + +"Do you wish me to give up the paper?" he asked. + +"No." + +"Very well. I will be with you when he comes--before then. I must get +rid of these men first." + +He closed the door softly, and drew the curtain which concealed it. Then +he opened the library window, and a moment afterwards the door. + +"Come in, you fellows," he said. "I scarcely know what I was doing when +I locked the door. I fancy one of the housemaids has been seeing ghosts +in the garden. I saw something white in amongst the shrubs, but I could +find nothing. Come on out with me." + +Spencer followed with a perfectly grave face. Lord Runton looked +puzzled. Pelham did not attempt to leave the library. Spencer drew his +host a little on one side. + +"What a rotten liar you are, George!" he said. "I don't think that even +Runton was taken in." + +"I suppose it sounded a little thin," Duncombe answered coolly. "Put it +this way, then, so far as you are concerned. The shriek occurred in my +house. I've no explanation to offer to anybody." + +"I like the sound of that better, Duncombe," he remarked. "Hullo! What's +the matter with Runton?" + +Lord Runton was calling to them. + +"You've had a visitor who was in a hurry, old chap!" he remarked. "Send +for a lantern." + +Duncombe concealed his annoyance. + +"I don't want to alarm the whole household," he said. "I've a little +electric torch in my study. I'll fetch that." + +He brought it out. The progress of a man from the road to the small +window, towards which Duncombe glanced every now and then +apprehensively, was marked by much destruction. The intruder had +effected his exit either in great haste or in a singularly unfortunate +manner. He had apparently missed the gate, which at this point was only +a small hand one, and in clambering over the fence he had broken the +topmost strand of wire. He had blundered into a bed of wallflowers, +which were all crushed and downtrodden, and snapped off a rose tree in +the middle. Below the window were distinct traces of footmarks. Lord +Runton, who held the torch, was becoming excited. + +"Duncombe," he said, "there is something which I have not told you yet. +I have had numerous reports in about the car, and was able to trace it +as far as Lynn, but they all agreed in saying that it contained only two +persons--the driver and the man who called himself Fielding. What became +of the girl?" + +"I have no idea," Duncombe answered steadily. + +"Of course not," Lord Runton continued, "but don't you think it possible +that--without your knowledge, of course--she may be hidden somewhere +about here? That cry was not like the cry of a housemaid. Let us have +the whole place searched." + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. + +"As you will," he answered. "I am certain, however, that it will be +useless. There is no place here where any one could hide." + +"Your servants may know something," Runton suggested. + +"I have already questioned them," Duncombe answered. + +"Come along, Mr. Spencer," Lord Runton exclaimed, "let us search the +grounds." + +Spencer shook his head. + +"Waste of time, Lord Runton," he answered. "If you really want to +discover the whereabouts of this missing young lady, and she should by +any chance be close at hand, I should recommend you to induce Sir George +to let you search the room to which those footsteps lead." + +"The library," Duncombe interrupted quickly. "Search it by all means, if +you like. I have done so myself already." + +Spencer was facing the house. + +"The library!" he remarked reflectively. "Ah!" + +He stooped down to light a cigarette. Suddenly he felt Duncombe's hot +breath upon his cheek. In the momentary glow of the match he caught a +silhouette of a pale, angry face, whose eyes were flashing upon him. + +"This isn't your affair, Spencer. Shut up!" + +Spencer blew out the match deliberately. They both followed Lord Runton +to the library. Pelham was standing in the middle of the room. He had +the appearance of a man listening intently. + +"George," he asked sharply, "what is on the north side of this room?" + +"The wall!" Duncombe answered. + +"And beyond?" + +"A passage and the billiard-room." + +Pelham seemed dissatisfied. + +"I fancied," he muttered--"but I suppose it must have been fancy. Do the +women servants use that passage?" + +"Of course! Upon my word," Duncombe added, with a nervous little laugh, +"you all seem to be trying to make my house into a Maskelyne and Cooke's +home of mystery. Let us go into the dining-room and have a whisky and +soda." + +"Not for me, thanks," Lord Runton declared. "I must go back. The real +object of my coming here, Duncombe, was to see if the Mr. Spencer who +called at Runton Place to-day was really Mr. Jarvis Spencer, and if so +to ask him whether he would help me." + +"To what extent, Lord Runton?" Spencer asked quietly. + +"To the extent of recovering, or attempting to recover, the papers which +were stolen from the Baron Von Rothe," Lord Runton said. "The Baron was +a guest in my house, and I feel the occurrence very much. He will not +let me even mention the matter to the police, but I feel sure that he +could not object to Mr. Spencer's taking the matter in hand." + +"I think you will find," Spencer said, "that Von Rothe has already +placed the matter in the hands of his own people. The German secret +service is pretty active over here, you know. I have come in contact +with it once or twice." + +"Nevertheless, for my own satisfaction," Lord Runton continued, "I +should like the matter inquired into by you, Mr. Spencer." + +"I am not quite sure whether I am free to help you or not," Spencer said +slowly. "May I come and see you to-morrow morning?" + +"If you prefer it," Lord Runton said doubtfully. "Come as early as +possible. Good night, Duncombe! I should like to know who your nocturnal +visitor was." + +"If he comes again," Duncombe said, "I may be able to tell you." + +He walked to his desk, and taking out a revolver, slipped it into his +pocket. Then he rang the bell for Lord Runton's carriage. It seemed to +Duncombe that there was a shade of coolness in his visitor's manner as +he took his leave. He drew Spencer a little on one side. + +"I want you to promise to come and see me in any case to-morrow +morning," he said. "There is something which I should prefer saying to +you in my own house to saying here." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Very well," he said, "I will come. I can promise that much at least." + +Lord Runton departed. Pelham went off to bed. Spencer and his host were +left alone in the library. + +"Billiards, or a whisky and soda in the smoke-room?" the latter asked. +"I know that you are not a late bird." + +"Neither, thanks. Just a word with you here," Spencer answered. + +Duncombe paused on his way to the door. Spencer was standing in a +reflective attitude, with his hands behind his back, gently balancing +himself upon his toes. + +"I am very much disposed," he said, "to accept Lord Runton's offer. Have +you any objection?" + +"Of course I have," Duncombe answered. "You are working for me." + +"Was working for you," Spencer corrected gently. "That is all over, +isn't it?" + +"What do you mean?" Duncombe exclaimed. + +Spencer stood squarely upon his feet. He looked a little tired. + +"My engagement from you was to find Miss Phyllis Poynton," he said +softly. "You and I are perfectly well aware that the young lady in +question is--well, a few yards behind that curtain," he said, motioning +with his head towards it. "My task is accomplished, and I consider +myself a free man." + +Duncombe was silent for a moment. He walked restlessly to the window and +back again. + +"How did you find out that she was here?" he asked. + +Spencer looked a little disgusted. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "any one with the brains of a mouse must have +discovered that. Why, Lord Runton, without any of the intimations which +I have received, is a little suspicious. That is merely a matter of A B +C. There were difficulties, I admit, and I am sorry to say that I have +never solved them. I cannot tell you at this moment how it comes about +that a young lady, brought up in the country here, and from all I can +learn an ordinary, unambitious, virtuous sort of young person, should +disappear from England in search of a missing brother, and return in a +few months the companion of one of the most dangerous and brilliant +members of the French secret service. This sort of thing is clean beyond +me, I admit. I will be frank with you, Duncombe. I have met with +difficulties in this case which I have never met with before--peculiar +difficulties." + +"Go on!" Duncombe exclaimed eagerly. + +"I have many sources of information in Paris," Spencer continued slowly. +"I have acquaintances amongst waiters, cabmen, cafe-proprietors, +detectives, and many such people. I have always found them most useful. +I went amongst them, making careful inquiries about Phyllis Poynton and +her brother. They were like men struck dumb. Their mouths were closed +like rat-traps. The mention of either the boy or the girl seemed to +change them as though like magic from pleasant, talkative men and women, +very eager to make the best of their little bit of information, into +surly idiots, incapable of understanding or answering the slightest +question. It was the most extraordinary experience I have ever come +across." + +Duncombe was breathlessly interested. + +"What do you gather from it?" he asked eagerly. + +"I can only surmise," Spencer said slowly, "I can only surmise the +existence of some power, some force or combination of forces behind all +this, of the nature of which I am entirely ignorant. I am bound to admit +that there is a certain amount of fascination to me in the contemplation +of any such thing. The murder of that poor girl, for instance, who was +proposing to give you information, interests me exceedingly." + +Duncombe shuddered at the recollection. The whole scene was before him +once more, the whole series of events which had made his stay in Paris +so eventful. He laid his hand upon Spencer's arm. + +"Spencer," he said, "you speak as though your task were accomplished. It +isn't. Phyllis Poynton may indeed be where you say, but if so it is +Phyllis Poynton with the halter about her neck, with the fear of +terrible things in her heart. It is not you nor I who is the jailer of +her captivity. It is some power which has yet to be discovered. Our task +is not finished yet. To-night I will try to question her about this +network of intrigue into which she seems to have been drawn. If she will +see you, you too shall ask her about it. Don't think of deserting us +yet." + +"My dear Duncombe," Spencer said, "I may as well confess at once that +the sole interest I felt in Lord Runton's offer was that it is closely +connected with the matter we have been discussing." + +"You shall have my entire confidence, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "The +man who called himself Fielding was badly wounded, and he passed here +almost unconscious. He entrusted the paper or letter, or whatever it +was, he stole from Von Rothe's messenger, to his so-called daughter, and +she in her turn passed it on to me. It is at this moment in my +possession." + +Spencer looked very serious. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "I congratulate you upon your pluck, but not +upon your discretion. You are interfering in what may turn out to be a +very great matter--a matter in which a few lives are like the pawns +which are swept from the chess-board. Does any one know this?" + +"She and I only! You heard her shriek?" + +"Yes." + +"A man threw up her window and climbed in. He demanded the packet. He +searched the room. When he left her he declared that he should return at +twelve to-night, and if she did not hand it to him then he threatened +her." + +Spencer smiled, and rubbed his hands softly together. + +"Really," he murmured, "this is most interesting. I am with you, +Duncombe. With you altogether! There is only one more question." + +"Well?" + +"You did not know Phyllis Poynton. You took up this search for her out +of your friendship for Pelham. You are a rich man, young, strong, with +every capacity for enjoyment. What induces you to risk your life in an +adventure of this sort? You see, I don't mince words." + +Then Duncombe became grave. His face fell into firm, hard lines. Yet as +he spoke there was something boyish about his expression. + +"It is a fair question," he answered. "You won't understand me. I don't +understand myself. I've a brilliant galaxy of fools behind me. They've +made the pages of history interesting. They've been the butt always of +wiser men such as you, Spencer. The girl in that room may be Phyllis +Poynton or the worst adventuress who ever lied her way through the mazes +of intrigue, but I love her! She's in my life--a part of it. If I lose +her--well, you know what life is like when the flame has gone and only +the embers burn." + +Spencer nodded very softly. + +"That is sufficient!" he said. "You speak of things that I myself do not +understand. But that is nothing. I know that they exist. But----" + +"Well?" + +"But what about Pelham?" + +"Pelham has no prior claim," he answered. "As soon as she is safe he +shall know the whole truth. I would tell him at this moment but that I +am a little afraid of him. He would never understand, as we can, the +intricacy of the situation. And now--to the prosaic." + +He rang the bell. + +"Groves," he told the butler, "I am hungry. Bring me in anything you can +rake up for supper on a tray, and a pint of champagne." + +Spencer raised his eyebrows and smiled. Duncombe nodded. + +"For her, of course," he said. "I am going to take it in, and I want you +to stay here. It is past eleven o'clock already." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +HER FIRST KISS + + +"I was never," she declared, "quite so pleased to see any one in all my +life. I was wondering whether it would occur to you that I was +starving." + +He set the tray down for her, placed a chair in front of the table, and +busied himself opening the wine. All the time he was looking at her. + +"Whatever have you been doing to yourself?" he asked at length. + +She laughed softly. + +"Oh, I had to amuse myself somehow," she answered. "I've done my hair a +new way, rearranged all my ornaments, and really I don't think a man has +a right to such a delightful manicure set. I felt terribly nervous in +the lavatory, though. I could hear some one in the billiard-room all the +time." + +"That's all right!" he declared. "I've locked the door there, and have +the key in my pocket. No one can get in from that side." + +"Please talk, and don't watch me," she begged. "I'm ashamed to be so +hungry." + +He smiled and helped her to some more chicken. If he talked he was +scarcely conscious of what he said. All the time his eyes kept straying +towards her. She had taken off her jacket and was dressed simply enough +in a blouse of some soft white material and a dark skirt. Everything, +from the ornaments at her neck, the dull metal waistband, and the trim +shoes, seemed to him to be carefully chosen, and the best of their sort. +She wore no rings, and her fingers had the rosy pinkness of health. If +she had seemed graceful to him before in the drawing-room of Runton +Place, and surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the +country, she seemed more than ever so now, seated in the somewhat worn +chair of his little studio. The color, too, seemed to have come back to +her cheeks. She seemed to have regained in some measure her girlishness. +Her eyes were ever ready to laugh into his. She chattered away as though +the world after all contained nothing more serious for her than for any +other girl. Duncombe hated to strike another note, yet he knew that +sooner or later it must be done. + +"You are quite sure that you will not have anything else?" he asked. + +"Absolutely, thanks! I have never enjoyed anything so much in my life." + +He glanced at his watch. It was half-past eleven. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I am going to be a nuisance to you, but +one's friends often are that. I want to be your friend. I want to prove +myself such. I am not an inquisitive person, by any means, but fate has +declared that I should be your inquisitor. There are some questions +which I am bound to ask you." + +Her face grew suddenly grave. + +"There is so little," she murmured, "which I can tell you." + +"We shall see," he answered. "In the first place, Lord Runton has been +here. He is one of my oldest friends, and a very good fellow. He came to +tell me that Von Rothe had been robbed in his house of some valuable +papers. He came partly to ask my advice. All the time I was sitting +opposite to him, with those papers in my pocket." + +She looked at him strangely. + +"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you gave them up to him." + +"I did not," he answered. "You know very well that I did not." + +"It was your duty," she said in a low tone. + +"Perhaps so. On the other hand," he continued, "you trusted me. The +papers are safe." + +"Does he know that you have them?" she asked. + +"He knows nothing!" + +She looked at him steadfastly--not with any appearance of doubting his +word, and yet as though she were revolving something in her mind +concerning him. + +"I am thinking," she said, "how much better it would have been for both +of us if we had never met." + +"The fates thought otherwise," he answered. "I searched Paris for you, +only to find you at my gates. The fates meant you to be my friend. We +must be careful not to disappoint them." + +She shook her head a little wistfully. + +"You have been very good to me," she said, "but you don't +understand----" + +"Precisely!" he interrupted. "I don't understand. I want to. To begin +with--what in this world induced you to throw in your lot even for an +hour with the man who called himself Fielding?" + +"I can answer no questions concerning myself," she said sadly. + +He smiled. + +"Come," he said, "it isn't so serious as all that, is it? Sooner or +later your friends are sure to find you, and they will not be content +with such a statement as that. You were summoned one day to Paris by or +on behalf of your brother, who had unaccountably disappeared there. You +immediately appear to have followed suit. You had no friends in +Paris--neither, I think, had he. I believe I am correct in saying that +you had neither of you ever been there before. If your brother has +fallen into bad hands, and if those same people are trying to work upon +your fears by leading you into this sort of thing--well, I have friends +who are powerful enough to bring you safely out of any den of thieves in +the world. You are in an impossible situation, my dear young lady. +Nature never meant you for an adventuress. There is no necessity for you +to become one. Why do you look at me like that?" + +There was terror in her face. He had hoped to reassure her, to give her +courage. On the contrary every word he spoke only seemed to increase her +distress. + +"Oh, I am afraid!" she murmured. "I wish I had taken my chance. I ought +not to have burdened you for a moment with my affairs. I have given you +the right to ask me questions which I cannot answer." + +He was perplexed. + +"If you have given promises to these people----" he began. + +"Oh, there is no question of promises," she interrupted. "I am here of +my own free will. I refuse to answer any questions. I pray only if you +would be generous that you ask me none, that you keep me until +to-morrow, and let me go, not only from this place, but out of your +life. Then indeed I will be grateful to you." + +He took her hand in his. She yielded it without any attempt at +resistance, but it lay in his palm a cold, dead thing. + +"I am only concerned for your good," he said gently. "It is your +happiness only that I am anxious for. You were not born or trained for a +life of lies and crime. I want to save you from it before it is too +late." + +"What I do," she said slowly, "I do of my own free will." + +"Not quite, I think," he answered, "but let that pass. Listen! If you +will not talk to me about these things, will you talk to my friend, +Jarvis Spencer? He is a gentleman, and a journalist by profession, but +he is also one of the cleverest amateur detectives in England." + +She held up her hands with a little gesture of horror. Her eyes were +alight with fear. + +"No!" she cried. "No! A thousand times, no! Don't let him come near me, +please. Oh, I wish I could make you understand," she continued +helplessly. "You yourself in Paris only a few weeks ago were in terrible +danger. A girl who only gave, or meant to give, you information about my +brother and me was murdered. You, too, would have been killed if you had +found anything out." + +He would have answered her lightly, but the memory of Mademoiselle +Flossie lying dead upon the bed in that gloomy little room suddenly rose +up before him, and the words died away upon his lips. He was silent for +a moment, and glanced again at his watch. It wanted only five minutes +to twelve. He came and leaned over her chair. + +"Phyllis," he said, "what am I to do about you? I cannot let you go out +of my life like this. No, you must listen to me for a moment. When +Pelham sent for me after you had disappeared he showed me your picture. +I am not exactly the sort of man of whom knight-errants are made. I have +never gone a mile out of my way to meet any woman in my life. My life +here has seemed of all things the best to me. I am a dull, unambitious +sort of fellow, you know, since I settled down here, and I expected to +go on for the rest of my days pretty much in the same way. And yet when +Pelham showed me your picture it was different. I made him give a copy +to me. I told him--liar that I was--that I could not carry the memory of +your face in my mind, when it was already engraven in my heart. And I +went off to Paris, Phyllis, like the veriest Don Quixote, and I came +back very sad indeed when I could not find you. Then you came to Runton +Place, and the trouble began. I did not care who you were, Phyllis +Poynton, Sybil Fielding, or any one else. I let the others dispute. You +were--yourself, and I love you, dear. Now do you understand why I cannot +let you go away like this?" + +He had both her hands in his now, but her face was turned away. Then +without any warning, there came a soft rapping at the door which led +into the library. + +Duncombe reached it in a couple of strides. He opened it cautiously, and +found Spencer standing there. + +"I thought it best to let you know," he said, "that a carriage has +stopped in the lane. If I can be of any assistance I shall be here--and +ready." + +Duncombe nodded and closed the door. The girl was sitting upright in her +chair, with the old look of fear in her eyes. + +"Who was that?" she asked quickly. + +"Spencer," he answered. "He discovered your presence here, but he is +perfectly discreet. He knocked to tell me that a carriage has stopped in +the lane outside." + +She was white with fear, but he only laughed, and stooping down would +have taken her hands once more. But at that moment an unexpected sound +intervened. The deep silence of the house was broken by the ringing of +the front door bell. + +Duncombe started back. The girl half rose to her feet. + +"The front door!" he exclaimed. "The servants will have gone to bed. I +must answer it myself." + +She clung to him with a sudden abandon. She was white to the lips. + +"I am afraid," she moaned. "Don't leave me alone." + +He glanced towards the window. + +"By Jove, it may be a trap!" he exclaimed. "Let them ring. I'll stay +here with you." + +They stood hand in hand listening. His head was turned towards the door, +but the gentle pressure of her fingers drew him round. Her face was +upturned to his. Something of the fear had gone. There was an eager, +almost desperate, light in her softened eyes, and a tinge of color in +her cheeks. He caught her into his arms, and their lips met. She +disengaged herself almost immediately. + +"I don't care," she said with a little laugh. "That is the first kiss I +have ever given to a man, and very likely it will be the last. You +won't be able to say that I have gone away without paying my bill. Now +go and open the front door, Sir George." + +He hesitated for a moment. + +"Say only the word, Phyllis, and no one in the world shall ever take you +away." + +She did not even answer him. He left her with a little sigh. + +"Spencer," he said, "if you hear the slightest noise in that room go in +and shout for me." + +Spencer nodded. The front door bell rang again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE EMPTY ROOM + + +Duncombe unfastened the chain and bolts of the ponderous front door, and +looked out into the darkness. A carriage and pair of horses were drawn +up outside. A man and a woman, both dressed in long travelling-coats, +were standing upon the door-step. + +"This is Duncombe Hall, I believe?" the man said. "Is Sir George +Duncombe at home?" + +"I am Sir George Duncombe," he answered. "Will you come inside?" + +They crossed the threshold at once. The man was tall and dark, and his +voice and bearing were unmistakable. The woman was fair, _petite_, and +apparently very sleepy. She wore magnificent furs, and she had the air +of being in a very bad temper. + +"We really are heartily ashamed of ourselves for disturbing you at such +an hour, Sir George," the man said, "but you will pardon us when you +understand the position. I am the Marquis de St. Ethol, and this is my +wife. I have a letter to you from my friend the Duke of Chestow, with +whom we have been staying." + +Duncombe concealed his astonishment as well as he was able. He bowed to +the lady, and led them towards the library. Spencer, who had heard them +coming, had hastily concealed his revolver, and was lounging in an +easy-chair reading the evening paper. + +"I am afraid that my servants are all in bed," Duncombe said, "and I can +offer you only a bachelor's hospitality. This is my friend, Mr. +Spencer--the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. Wheel that easy-chair +up, Spencer, will you?" + +Spencer's brow had betrayed not the slightest sign of surprise, but +Duncombe fancied that the Marquis had glanced at him keenly. He was +holding a note in his hand, which he offered to Duncombe. + +"My errand is so unusual, and the hour so extraordinary," he said, "that +I thought it would be better for Chestow to write you a line or two. +Will you please read it?" + +Duncombe tore open the envelope. + + "CHESTOW, _Wednesday Evening_. + + "MY DEAR DUNCOMBE,--My friend De St. Ethol tells me + that he is obliged, at great personal inconvenience, to + execute a commission for a friend which involves a somewhat + unceremonious call upon you to-night. He desires me, + therefore, to send you these few lines. The Marquis de St. + Ethol and his wife are amongst my oldest friends. It gives me + great pleasure to vouch for them both in every way. + + "Yours sincerely, + + "CHESTOW." + +"The letter, I am afraid," the Marquis said, smiling, "does little to +satisfy your curiosity. Permit me to explain my errand in a few words." + +"Certainly," Duncombe interrupted. "But won't you take something? I am +glad to see that Spencer is looking after your wife." + +The Marquise had raised her veil, and was leaning back in a chair, with +a sandwich poised in the fingers of one hand and a glass of Burgundy in +the other. She was looking a little less bored, and was chatting gayly +to Spencer, whose French was equal to her own. + +"I thank you very much," the Marquis said. "I will not take anything to +drink, but if you have cigarettes--ah, thanks!" + +He lit one, and sat on the arm of an easy-chair. + +"The facts are these," he said. "I have a great friend in Paris who, +knowing that I was at Chestow, and returning to France to-morrow, has, I +must say, taken some advantage of my good nature. I am asked to call +here and escort home to her friends a young lady, who, I understand, is +for the moment a guest under your roof. My friend, I must say, +telegraphs in a most mysterious manner, but he is evidently very anxious +that we should accede to his request. Our appearance here at this time +of night I admit is most unjustifiable, but what were we to do? It is +absolutely necessary for my wife to catch the two-twenty from Charing +Cross to-morrow. I hope that my friend will some day appreciate my +devotion. To come round by your house I have had to borrow a carriage +from my friend Chestow. We shall have to drive to Norwich, and catch a +train from there to London in the small hours of the morning. I presume +the young lady is here?" + +"The young lady is here!" Duncombe answered. "May I inquire the name of +the friend to whom you are asked to take her?" + +The Marquis yawned slightly. He, too, seemed weary. + +"My dear Sir George," he said, "I trust that you will appreciate my +position in this matter. I do not even know the young lady's name. My +eccentric friend in his telegram, which occupied four forms, most +specially insisted that I should ask or answer no questions concerning +her." + +"You are not aware, then, of the circumstances which led to her coming +here?" Duncombe asked. + +"I am utterly ignorant of them," the Marquis answered. "I am constrained +to remain so." + +"You no doubt have some message for her," Duncombe said. "Her position +here is a little peculiar. She may desire some sort of information as to +her destination." + +The Marquis knocked the ash off his cigarette. + +"If you will produce the young lady," he said, "I think that you will +find her prepared to come with us without asking any questions." + +Duncombe threw open the door which led into the inner room. The girl +stepped forward as far as the threshold and looked out upon them. + +"The Marquis and the Marquise de St. Ethol," Duncombe said to her. "They +have brought me a letter from the Duke of Chestow, and they have come to +take you back to France." + +The girl looked fixedly for a moment at the Marquise. If any word or +sign passed between them it escaped Duncombe. Phyllis was content, +however, to ask no questions. + +"I am quite ready," she said calmly. + +The Marquise rose. + +"Your luggage can be sent on," she remarked. + +Duncombe approached Phyllis, and stood by her side. + +"These people," he said, "will not tell me where they are taking you to. +Are you content to go?" + +"I must go," she answered simply. + +"You wish me to give you----" + +"If you please," she interrupted. + +He turned towards the door. + +"I have something belonging to Miss--to my guest," he said, "in my own +room. If you will excuse me for a moment I will fetch it." + +He returned with the sealed envelope which she had given him, and which +he placed in her hands. He carried also a fur coat and an armful of +wraps. + +"You must take these," he declared. "It is cold travelling." + +"But how can I return them to you?" she protested. "No, not the coat, +please. I will take a rug if you like." + +"You will take both," he said firmly. "There need be no trouble about +returning them. I shall be in Paris myself shortly, and no doubt we +shall come across one another." + +Her eyes flashed something at him. What it was he could not rightly +tell. It seemed to him that he saw pleasure there, and fear, but more of +the latter. The Marquis intervened. + +"I trust," he said, "that in that case you will give us the pleasure of +seeing something of you. We live in the Avenue de St. Cloud." + +"You are very kind," Duncombe said. "I shall not fail to come and see +you." + +Spencer threw open the door, and they passed out. Phyllis kept by +Duncombe's side. He felt her hand steal into his. + +"I want you to keep this envelope for me," she whispered. "It contains +nothing which could bring you into trouble, or which concerns any one +else. It is just something which I should like to feel was in safe +keeping." + +He thrust it into his pocket. + +"I will take care of it," he promised. "And--you won't forget me? We +shall meet again--sooner perhaps than you expect." + +She shook her head. + +"I hope to Heaven that we shall not! At least, not yet," she murmured +fervently. + +From the carriage window she put out her hand. + +"You have been very kind to me," she said. "Good-bye!" + +"An impossible word," he answered, with well-affected gayety. "A +pleasant journey to you." + +Then the carriage rolled away, and Spencer and he were left alone. +Duncombe secured the front door, and they walked slowly back to the +library. + +"You know Paris well," Duncombe said. "Have you ever heard of these +people?" + +Spencer smiled. + +"My dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "De St. Ethol is one of the first nobles +in France. I have seen him at the races many times." + +"Not the sort of people to lend themselves to anything shady?" + +"The last in the world," Spencer answered. "She was the Comtesse de +Laugnan, and between them they are connected with half a dozen Royal +houses. This business is getting exceedingly interesting, Duncombe!" + +But Duncombe was thinking of the empty room. + + + + +BOOK II + + + + +CHAPTER I + +GUY POYNTON AGAIN + + +"I Suppose," the boy said thoughtfully, "I must seem to you beastly +ungrateful. You've been a perfect brick to me ever since that night. But +I can't help being a bit homesick. You see, it was really the first time +I'd ever been away from home for long, and though my little place isn't +a patch on this, of course, still, I was born there, and I'm jolly fond +of it." + +His companion nodded, and his dark eyes rested for a moment upon the +other's face. Guy Poynton was idly watching the reapers at work in the +golden valley below, and he did not catch his friend's expression. + +"You are very young, _mon cher ami_," he said. "As one grows older one +demands change. Change always of scene and occupation. Now I, too, am +most hideously bored here, although it is my home. For me to live is +only possible in Paris--Paris, the beautiful." + +Guy looked away from the fields. He resented a little his friend's air +of superiority. + +"There's only a year's difference in our ages!" he remarked. + +Henri de Bergillac smiled--this time more expressively than ever, and +held out his hands. + +"I speak of experience, not years," he said. "You have lived for twenty +years in a very delightful spot no doubt, but away from everything which +makes life endurable, possible even, for the child of the cities. I have +lived for twenty-one years mostly in Paris. Ah, the difference!" + +Guy shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back in his chair. + +"Well," he said briefly, "tastes differ. I've seen quite all I want to +of Paris for the rest of my life. Give me a fine June morning in the +country, and a tramp round the farm, or an early morning start in +September walking down the partridges, or a gray day in November with a +good gee underneath, plenty of grass ahead, and hounds talking. Good +God, I wish I were back in England." + +Henri smiled and caressed his upper lip, where symptoms of a moustache +were beginning to appear. + +"My dear Guy," he said, "you speak crudely because you do not +understand. You know of Paris only its grosser side. How can one learn +more when he cannot even speak its language? You know the Paris of the +tourist. The real magic of my beautiful city has never entered into your +heart. Your little dabble in its vices and frivolities must not count to +you as anything final. The joy of Paris to one who understands is the +exquisite refinement, the unsurpassed culture, of its abysmal +wickedness." + +"The devil!" Guy exclaimed. "Have you found out all that for yourself?" + +Henri was slightly annoyed. He was always annoyed when he was not taken +seriously. + +"I have had the advantage," he said, "of many friendships with men +whose names you would scarcely know, but who directed the intellectual +tendencies of the younger generation of Parisians. People call us +decadents--I suppose, because we prefer intellectual progression to +physical activity. I am afraid, dear friend, that you would never be one +of us." + +"I am quite sure of it," Guy answered. + +"You will not even drink absinthe," Henri continued, helping himself +from a little carafe which stood between them, "absolutely the most +artistic of all drinks. You prefer a thing you call a pipe to my +choicest cigarettes, and you have upon your cheeks a color of which a +ploughboy should be ashamed." + +Guy laughed good-humoredly. + +"Well, I can't help being sunburnt!" he declared. Henri sighed +delicately. + +"Ah, it is not only that," he said. "I wish so much that I could make +you understand. You positively cultivate good health, take cold baths +and walks and exercises to preserve it." + +"Why the dickens shouldn't I?" + +Henri half closed his eyes. He was a dutiful nephew, but he felt that +another month with this clodhopper of an English boy would mean the +snapping of his finely strung nerves. + +"My friend," he began gently, "we in Paris of the set to whom I belong +do not consider good health to be a state which makes for intellectual +progression. Good health means the triumph of the physical side of man +over the nervous. The healthy animal sleeps and eats too much. He does +not know the stimulus of pain. His normal condition is unaspiring--not +to say bovine. The first essential, therefore, of life, according to +our tenets, is to get rid of superfluous health." + +Guy did not trust himself to speak this time. He only stared at his +companion, who seemed pleased to have evoked his interest. + +"Directly the body is weakened," Henri continued, "the brain begins to +act. With the indisposition for physical effort comes activity of the +imagination. Cigarettes, drugs, our friend here," he continued, patting +the carafe, "late nights, _la belle passion_--all these--all these----" + +He broke off in the middle of his sentence. Simultaneously he abandoned +his carefully chosen attitude of studied languor. He was leaning forward +in his chair watching a carriage which had just come into sight along +the straight wide road which led from the outside world to the chateau. + +"The devil!" he exclaimed. "My respected uncle! Jacques!" + +A man-servant stepped out upon the terrace. + +"Monsieur!" + +"Remove the absinthe, Jacques. Monsieur le Duc arrives!" + +Guy, who also had been watching the carriage, gave utterance to a little +exclamation. He pointed to two figures on horseback who rode behind the +carriage. + +"The gendarmes!" he exclaimed. "They have come for me at last!" + +His face was no longer ruddy. The pallor of fear had crept to his +cheeks. A note of despair rang in his voice. + +His companion only laughed. + +"Gendarmes, perhaps," he answered, "but not for you, my young friend. +Have I not told you that you are in sanctuary here? A guest of the Duc +de Bergillac evades all suspicion. Ah, I understand well those +gendarmes. Let their presence cause you no anxiety, _cher monsieur_. +They are a guard of honor for my reverend uncle and the personage who +rides with him." + +Guy resumed his chair, and sat with his head buried in his hands in an +attitude of depression. His companion leaned over the stone balustrade +of the terrace and waved his hand to the occupants of the carriage +below. They pulled up at the bottom of the steps and commenced slowly to +ascend. In obedience to an imperious gesture from his uncle, Henri +advanced to meet them. He greeted his uncle with graceful affection. +Before the other man, although his appearance was homely and his dress +almost untidy, he bowed very low indeed, and accepted his proffered hand +as a mark of favor. + +The Duc de Bergillac was tall, sallow, with black moustache and +imperial. He possessed all the personal essentials of the aristocrat, +and he had the air of one accustomed to command. + +"Henri," he said, "your young friend is with you?" + +"But certainly," his nephew answered with a sigh. "Am I not always +obedient? He has scarcely been out of my sight since we arrived." + +"Very good! You saw us arrive just now. Did you mention the name of +Monsieur Grisson?" the Duke asked. + +"But certainly not!" Henri answered. + +The Duke nodded. + +"You have discretion," he said. "Monsieur Grisson is here incognito. He +wishes to hear your young friend's story from his own lips." + +The Duke's companion nodded silently. He had the air of a silent man. He +was short, inclined to be stout, and his dress and bearing were almost +bourgeois. His features were large and not particularly intelligent, his +cheeks were puffy, and his gray beard ill-humored. He had the double +neck of the Frenchman of the lower class who has not denied himself the +joys of the cuisine, and his appearance would have been hopelessly +commonplace but for the deep-set brilliant black eyes which lit up his +whole face and gave it an aspect of power. + +"After _dejeuner_, you understand," he said. "It is well that your young +friend should not understand that I came here for no other reason. I +will see first your manuscripts, Monsieur le Duc." + +The Duke waved his hand courteously to Guy as the two men passed along +on their way to the library. Henri resumed his seat with a little shrug +of the shoulders. + +"My respected uncle will bring such strange people here to see his +manuscripts and collection of missals," he remarked. "For myself it is a +hobby which wearies me. And you, _mon cher_ Guy?" + +"I know nothing about them," he answered. "But the gendarmes, Henri? Why +did they ride with your uncle's carriage?" + +Henri smiled reassuringly. + +"The old gentleman," he said, "has something to do with the Government, +and they were in attendance upon him. You can realize, my friend," he +added, "that you are indeed in a republican country. Such people must +have the _entree_ to our houses, even to our table. I presume that you +will have the pleasure of taking luncheon with him even." + +A man-servant came out upon the terrace. + +"Monsieur le Duc desires me to say that luncheon is served," he +announced. + +Henri passed his arm through his friend's. + +"Come," he said, "let us go and see if we can amuse ourselves with my +uncle's venerable friend. I do not suppose that he speaks English, but I +will interpret for you." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AN OLD STORY + + +Guy moved uneasily upon his chair. The color mounted almost to his +forehead. It was a humiliation this, upon which he had not counted. +Monsieur Grisson was sitting within a few feet of him. A serviette was +tucked carefully underneath his collar, and his face was a little +flushed with the exercise of eating. His eyes, however, were undimmed, +and his manners, although a little brusque, had certainly not merited +the epithet of bourgeois. + +"It isn't much of a story," Guy began, making a desperate effort. "It +was my first visit to Paris, and I lost my head a bit. I drank too much +wine and quarrelled with a fellow who certainly insulted me. They all +told me that I must fight him, so----" + +"Stop, Monsieur Poynton!" + +Guy raised his head in surprise. The exclamation had come from the Duc +de Bergillac. Monsieur Grisson was looking towards him as though for an +explanation. + +"My dear young friend," the Duke remarked with a smile, "it is my +stupidity which is to blame. I had forgotten the little matter to which +you are alluding, and--between ourselves--it is one which is very much +better not related to Monsieur Grisson. I was alluding to your other +adventure--up in the Pozen forest." + +Guy for a moment was too astonished for words. Then he recovered himself +with a little laugh and raised his head. There was nothing terrible in +the other affair. + +"I will tell Monsieur Grisson about that with pleasure," he said, "if it +is likely to interest him. I was in the North of Germany on a +walking-tour, and I had rather a stupid fancy to go as far as the +Russian frontier, and then return by Vienna to Paris. I was quite alone, +and had no one's plans but my own to consult, so I started off from +Steritz, I think the place was called. Well, we were within about forty +miles of a place called Renzan when our train was stopped and shunted. +We were told that some specials were to go by. I should think we must +have waited there for an hour or more. Anyhow I got sick of it, and +passed through the cars on to the rear platform, and down on to the +line. I spoke to the guard, and I understood him to say that we should +not be starting for at least half an hour. I strolled along the line a +little way and stopped to light a pipe. Suddenly I heard a whistle, and +when I turned round the rear light of the train was moving away. I +shouted and ran as hard as I could, but it was no use. In less than two +minutes the train was out of my sight, and I was left alone." + +The Duke pushed a small atlas across the table. + +"I wonder," he said, "if you could put your finger on about the spot +where you were? Here, you see, is the railway line." + +Guy studied it for a few moments carefully, and looked at the scale. +Then he pointed to a certain spot. + +"As near as I could say," he declared, "about there." + +The Duke and Monsieur Grisson exchanged quick glances. Guy was beginning +to feel a little mystified. + +"Proceed, if you please," the Duke said courteously. "I am sure that +Monsieur Grisson finds your story most interesting. Permit me." + +Guy sipped the _fin champagne_ from the glass which the Duke had +carefully filled, and took a cigarette from the box at his elbow. + +"I found myself," he continued, "in the middle of a dense pine forest, +with just sufficient clearing for two lines of rails and no more. There +seemed to be nothing for me to do but to walk ahead in the direction +which the train had taken. I lit a pipe and started out all right, but I +very soon got tired. The sleepers were a long way apart, and the track +between frightfully rough. I walked for hours without seeing the +slightest sign of a station or a break in the woods, and finally I sat +down dead beat. My feet were all blisters, and I felt that I couldn't +walk another yard. Fortunately it was a warm night, and I made up my +mind to crawl under the bracken just inside the wood and go to sleep. I +found a comfortable place, and I'd just gone off when a noise close at +hand woke me. I sat up and looked around. + +"Within a few feet of me an engine and a single carriage had pulled up. +At intervals along the line as far as I could see soldiers were +stationed like sentries. I could see that they were looking sharply up +and down, and even a little way into the wood. From the train three or +four men in long cloaks had already descended. They were standing in the +track talking together." + +For the first time Monsieur Grisson interrupted. He took his cigar from +his mouth and leaned over towards the young Englishman. + +"You were lost yourself. You did not accost them? Ask them the way +anywhere?" + +"It seems odd, I suppose, that I didn't," Guy answered, "but do you know +there was an air of secrecy about the whole thing which rather +frightened me. And those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for +somebody to shoot. Anyhow, while I was hesitating what to do, there was +a whistle and another train came from the opposite direction. Then, of +course, I waited to see what was going to happen." + +"And you saw?" the Duke began. + +"I saw another single carriage arrive, more men in long cloaks and more +soldiers. There was a brief but hearty greeting between two men, who +seemed to be the principals in this little pantomime. Then they both got +into the train which had arrived first, and I could see them sitting at +a table talking, and a third man, who seemed to be a sort of secretary, +was writing all the time. In about half an hour they both stepped back +on to the line, and every one commenced shaking hands and saying +good-bye. Then the whole thing seemed to melt away. The trains went on, +the soldiers climbed into a truck attached to one of them, and +everything was just as quiet as before." + +"And afterwards?" + +"I waited until it was clear daylight, and then I resumed my walk along +the line. I found the next station about five miles off, and I was +thankful to see that the guard of the train which had left me behind had +had the sense to put my luggage out there. I went to the hotel and had +some breakfast, and afterwards I chucked my idea of going so far as the +frontier, and left for Vienna. A week later I was in Paris." + +The Duke nodded. + +"I have asked you this question before," he said "but Monsieur Grisson +is anxious to hear it from your own lips. To how many people did you +tell this little adventure of yours before you reached Paris?" + +"To not a soul!" Guy answered. "I was very dull in Vienna. I found no +one who could speak English and my few words of German did me no good at +all. I came on to Paris within a week." + +The Duke nodded. + +"And in Paris for the first time!" he remarked. "You mentioned the +affair?" + +"Yes! I took up an illustrated paper at a cafe on the night of my +arrival whilst waiting for supper, and saw pictures of two men there who +reminded me very much of the two whom I had seen on the railway near +Pozen. I think I made some remark out loud which attracted the attention +of a woman who was sitting at the next table, and later on I told her +the whole story." + +"And since then?" + +"Since then I have told it to no one." + +"Was there any one in the cafe you have spoken of who seemed to take any +particular interest in you?" + +Guy considered for a moment. + +"There was a young lady from Vienna," he said, "who seemed to want to +talk to me." + +The two men exchanged glances. + +"Madame has justified herself," the Duke murmured. + +"She was trying to listen to what I was saying to the English +girl--Mademoiselle Flossie, she called herself, and when she went away +with her friends she threw me a note with two words on it--'_prenez +garde!_' I know it struck me as being rather queer, because----" + +He hesitated. The Duke nodded. + +"Go on!" he said. + +"Well, I may as well tell you everything," Guy continued, "even if it +does sound rather like rot. All the time I was in Vienna and on the +journey to Paris I fancied that I was being followed. I kept on seeing +the same people, and a man who got in at Strasburg--I had seen him +before at the hotel in Vienna--tried all he could to pal up to me. I +hate Germans though, and I didn't like the look of the fellow, so I +wouldn't have anything to say to him, though I feel sure he tipped the +conductor to put him in my compartment. I gave him the slip at the +railway station at Paris, but I'm almost sure I saw him that night at +the Cafe Montmartre." + +"Your story," Monsieur Grisson said quietly, "becomes more and more +interesting. Monsieur le Duc here has hinted at some slight indiscretion +of yours on the night of your arrival in Paris. I have some influence +with the Government here, and I think I can promise you some very +substantial help in return for the information you have given us. But I +want you to turn your thoughts back to the night you spent by the +railroad. Can you remember anything further about it, however trifling, +which you have not told us?" + +Guy leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. + +"By Jove," he declared, "there is something which I forgot altogether. +Just before that little party in the railway saloon broke up the chap in +the car who had been writing left his seat, and a loose page of paper +fluttered through the window." + +The two men leaned across the table almost simultaneously. + +"What became of it?" the Duke asked sharply. + +"I picked it up and put it in my pocket," Guy answered. + +"Did you read it?" the Duke asked. + +"I couldn't! It was in German!" + +"Where is it now?" Monsieur Grisson demanded. + +Guy reflected. The faces of the two men amazed him. It was as though +great things depended upon his answer. + +"It is with my pocketbook and my letter of credit. I remember that I +kept it as a curiosity." + +"A curiosity!" the Duke exclaimed. "You have it here?" + +Guy shook his head. + +"It is in my portmanteau!" he answered. + +The faces of the two men betrayed their disappointment. They conversed +for a few moments in rapid French. Then the Duke turned to Guy. + +"You do not object to our sending a trusted person to look through your +portmanteau!" he asked. "Monsieur Grisson and I are very curious about +that sheet of paper." + +"Certainly not," Guy answered. "But may I not have my luggage here?" + +The Duke shook his head. + +"Not yet," he said. "It would not be wise. We must give Monsieur +Grisson time to arrange your little affair." + +"I don't want to seem a nuisance," Guy continued, "but about my sister?" + +"She has been assured of your safety," the Duke declared. "For the rest +we will talk later in the day. Monsieur Grisson and I are going to the +telephone. You will find Henri on the terrace." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A BODY FROM THE SEINE + + +"At the sport, my young friend," Henri murmured, from the depths of his +basket chair, "I yield you without question supremacy. Your rude games, +trials mostly of brute strength, do not interest me. Your horsemanship I +must confess that I envy, and I fear that you are a better shot. But two +things remain to me." + +"Only two?" Guy murmured. "What unexampled modesty!" + +"I can drive a racing automobile at eighty miles an hour, and with the +foils I can play with you." + +"I give you the first," Guy answered, "but I'm beginning to fancy myself +a bit with the sticks. Let's have a bout!" + +"My dear Guy," Henri exclaimed, "forgive me, but what a crude +suggestion! The first breeze of the day is just coming up from the lake. +Close your eyes as I do. Can't you catch the perfume of the roses and +the late lilac? Exquisite. In half an hour you will see a new green in +the woods there as the sun drops. This is silent joy. You would exchange +it for vulgar movement." + +"I don't see anything vulgar about fencing," Guy replied. "It's all +right here, of course, but I'm getting stiff, and I haven't the appetite +of a kitten. I should like a good hour's bout, a swim afterwards in the +baths, and a rub down. Come on, Henri! It'll make us as fit as +possible." + +Henri shivered a little. + +"My young friend," he murmured, "you move me to despair. How can an +alliance between nations with such contrary ideals be possible? You +would desert a beautiful scene like this to gain by vulgar exercise an +appetite that you may eat. Can't you realize the crudeness of it? Yet I +must remember that you are my guest," he added, striking the bell by his +side. "Antoine shall prepare my linen clothes, and I will give you a +lesson. Antoine," he added, half turning to the man-servant who stood by +his elbow, "my black linen fencing-clothes and shoes in the +dressing-room, and have the floor in the fencing-gallery sprinkled with +sand." + +The man bowed, and Henri slowly rose from his chair. + +"Don't bother about it, you know, if you mind very much," Guy said. +"Would you rather have a game of billiards, or a swim in the lake?" + +Henri thrust his arm through his friend's. + +"By no means," he answered. "If we are to do anything at all we will do +the thing in which I excel. It feeds my vanity, which is good for me, +for by disposition I am over-modest." + +But they were not destined to fence that night, for on their way across +the hall the Duke's own servant intercepted them. + +"Monsieur le Duc," he announced, "desires to speak with Monsieur in the +library." + +Henri let go his friend's arm. + +"I return to the terrace, _mon ami_," he said. "You can fetch me when +my respected uncle has finished with you." + +Monsieur le Duc and Monsieur Grisson were still together. Immediately +the door was closed the former turned to Guy. + +"Your luggage has been thoroughly searched," he announced, "by a trusty +agent. The letter of credit is still there, but the paper of which you +spoke is missing." + +Guy looked a little incredulous. + +"I know it was there the evening I left the hotel," he answered. "It was +fastened to my letter of credit by an elastic band. The man you sent +must have missed it." + +The Duke shook his head. + +"That," he said, "is impossible. The paper has been abstracted." + +"But who could have known about it?" Guy protested. + +"Monsieur Poynton," the Duke said, "we think it well--Monsieur Grisson +and I--to take you a little further into our confidence. Has it occurred +to you, I wonder, to appreciate the significance of what you saw on the +railway in the forest of Pozen?" + +"I'm afraid--not altogether," Guy answered. + +"We assumed as much," the Duke said. "What you did see was this. You saw +a meeting between the German Emperor and the Czar of Russia. It was +marvellously well arranged, and except those interested you were +probably the only witness. According to the newspapers they were never +less than four hundred miles apart, but on the day in question the +Emperor was reported to be confined to his room by a slight chill, and +the Czar to be resting after a fatiguing journey. You understand that +this meeting was meant to be kept a profound secret?" + +Guy nodded. + +"But why?" he asked. "Was there any special reason why they should not +meet?" + +"My young friend," the Duke answered gravely, "this meeting of which you +were the only witness might, but for your chance presence there, have +altered the destiny of Europe. Try how you will you cannot appreciate +its far-reaching possibilities. I will endeavor to give you the bare +outlines of the affair. Even you, I suppose, have observed or heard of +the growing friendship between my country and yours, which has +culminated in what is called the _entente cordiale_." + +"Yes, I know as much as that," Guy admitted. + +"This movement," the Duke said, "has been looked upon with growing +distaste and disfavor in Russia. Russia is the traditional and +inevitable enemy of your country. Russia had, I may go so far as to say, +made up her mind for war with England very soon after her first reverses +at the hands of Japan. I am telling you now what is a matter of common +knowledge amongst diplomatists when I tell you that it was the attitude +of my country--of France--which alone has stayed her hand." + +"This is very interesting," Guy said, "even to me, who have never taken +any interest in politics, but----" + +"Wait! Russia, as I say, found us indisposed to back her in any quarrel +with England. She turned then, of course, to Germany. We became aware, +through our secret service, that something was on foot between the two +countries. With our utmost vigilance we were unable to obtain any +particulars. It is you, Monsieur Poynton, who have brought us the first +information of a definite character." + +Guy looked his amazement, but he said nothing. + +"To you," the Duke continued, "a secret meeting between these two +monarchs may not seem at all an astonishing thing. To us it is of the +gravest political importance. Some sort of an understanding was arrived +at between them. What was it? That sheet of paper which was once in your +possession might very possibly contain the clue. Now you can appreciate +its importance to us." + +"What an ass I was not to take more care of it!" Guy muttered. + +"There are other things to be considered," the Duke continued. "For the +last month every dockyard in Germany has been working night and day, and +we have authentic information as to a huge mobilization scheme which is +already on foot. We might have wondered against whom these preparations +were intended but for you. As it is, the English Government has been +fully apprised of everything. Your magnificent fleet, under the pretext +of seeing the Baltic Squadron safely on its way, has been gradually +concentrated. From despatches to the German Ambassador which we have +managed to intercept in England, we know that it is intended to raise a +_casus belli_ during the presence of the squadron in British waters. +Quite unexpectedly, as it was hoped, Germany was to range herself on +Russia's side and strike against England. We, Russia's nominal ally, +have had no intimation of this whatever. We are apparently left to +ourselves--ignored. Our friendship with your country has destroyed +Russia's friendship for us. She relies no doubt on our neutrality, and +she makes terms, doubtless absurdly favorable ones, with our ancient +enemy. In the eyes of the world France is to be made to appear +ridiculous. The German Empire is to be ruled from London, and the +Emperor Wilhelm's known ambition is to be realized." + +"It sounds," Guy admitted, "like a nightmare. I know you foreigners all +think we English are a lot too cock-sure, but we have our own ideas, you +know, about any attempt at invasion." + +"I am afraid," the Duke said, "that when it comes to throwing a million +men at different points of your coasts protected by a superb navy you +might find yourselves unpleasantly surprised. But let that pass. Have I +said enough to make you understand the importance of what you saw in the +forest of Pozen? Good! Now I want you to understand this. In the +interests of your country and mine it is most important that the fact of +our knowledge of this meeting should be kept a profound secret." + +"Yes," Guy said, "I understand that." + +"Your presence there," the Duke continued, "created a certain amount of +suspicion. You were watched to Paris by German spies, and if they had +had the least idea of how much you had seen your life would not have +been worth five minutes' purchase. As it is they are uneasy over your +disappearance. There are at least a dozen men and women in Paris and +England to-day who are searching for you! You are moderately safe here, +but not altogether. I want to put them finally off the scent. I might, +of course, put you into such confinement that detection would be +impossible. I do not want to do that. You have rendered your own country +and mine an immense service. I prefer to treat you as a gentleman and a +man of honor, and to take you, as I hope you will see that I have done, +into our entire confidence." + +"Monsieur le Duc," Guy answered, "I can assure you that I appreciate all +that you have said. I am willing to do exactly as you say." + +"To-morrow morning's papers," the Duke said slowly, "will contain an +account of the finding of your body in the Seine." + +"My what!" Guy exclaimed. + +"Your body! We are going to stab and drown you. Perhaps I should say we +are going to discover you stabbed and drowned." + +Guy half rose from his seat. + +"I say----" he began. + +"I need not explain, of course," the Duke continued, "that you will +suffer by proxy. The whole affair has been carefully arranged by the +commissioners of police. + +"An account of your doings since you arrived in Paris will be given, +which I fear may not flatter you, but you must remember that it is +necessary to put our German friends completely off the scent, and in a +month's time or so you will reappear, and everything will be +contradicted." + +"But my sister?" Guy exclaimed. + +"Concerning your sister," the Duke continued, "we have further +explanations, perhaps I should say apologies, to offer you at some +future time. For the present--this only. She is now in Paris. She is to +some extent in our confidence, and you shall see her within the next few +days." + +"And what are you going to do with me really?" Guy asked. + +"You will remain here. Half the servants of the household have been +dismissed, and every one who is not absolutely trustworthy has been got +rid of. We are in close consultation with your English Cabinet, and the +moment the time arrives for us to disclose our knowledge of these +secrets you will be free to go where you please." + +"Absolutely free?" Guy asked anxiously. + +"Certainly!" the Duke answered. "The other little affair is cancelled by +your present services. In fact, as regards that, you need not give +yourself another moment's anxiety." + +A small telephone which stood upon the table rang sharply. The Duke +exchanged a few sentences and replaced the receiver. He turned to Guy. + +"It is an affair of the tides," he said. "Your body was washed up this +afternoon, six hours before time. It will be in the evening papers. Ah!" + +The telephone rang again. This time it was Monsieur Grisson who was +required. He listened for a moment or two with inscrutable countenance. +Then he glanced at the clock. + +"The Russian Ambassador," he said, replacing the receiver, "desires an +immediate interview with me on a matter of the utmost importance--and +the Russian Fleet has left the Baltic!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE + + +Duncombe was passed from the concierge to a footman, and from a footman +to a quietly dressed groom of the chambers, who brought him at last to +Madame la Marquise. She gave him the tips of her fingers and a somewhat +inquiring gaze. + +"Sir George Duncombe, is it not?" she remarked. "I am not receiving this +afternoon, but your message was so urgent. Forgive me, but it was not by +any chance my husband whom you wished to see?" + +"Your husband would have done as well, Madame," Duncombe answered +bluntly, "but I learned that he was not at home. My visit is really to +Miss Poynton. I should be exceedingly obliged if you would allow me the +privilege of a few minutes' conversation with her." + +The forehead of the Marquise was wrinkled with surprise. She stood +amidst all the wonders of her magnificent drawing-room like a dainty +Dresden doll--petite, cold, dressed to perfection. Her manner and her +tone were alike frigid. + +"But, Monsieur," she said, "that is wholly impossible. Mademoiselle is +too thoroughly upset by the terrible news in the paper this morning. It +is unheard of. Monsieur may call again if he is a friend of Mademoiselle +Poynton's--say, in a fortnight." + +"Marquise," he said, "it is necessary that I see Mademoiselle at once. I +am the bearer of good news." + +The Marquise looked at him steadily. + +"Of good news, Monsieur?" + +"Certainly!" + +"But how can that be?" + +"If Madame will give me the opportunity," he said, "I should only be too +glad to explain--to Mademoiselle Poynton." + +"If, indeed, it should be good news," the Marquise said slowly, "it were +better broken gradually to Mademoiselle. I will take her a message." + +"Permit me to see her, Marquise," he begged. "My errand is indeed +important." + +She shook her head. + +"It is not," she said, "according to the _convenances_. Mademoiselle is +under my protection. I have not the honor of knowing you, Monsieur." + +Duncombe raised his eyebrows. + +"But you remember calling at my house in Norfolk, and bringing Miss +Poynton away," he said. + +She stared at him calmly. + +"The matter," she said, "has escaped my memory. I do not love your +country, Monsieur, and my rare visits there do not linger in my mind." + +"Your husband," he reminded her, "asked me to visit you here." + +"My husband's friends," she replied, "are not mine." + +The calm insolence of her manner towards him took him aback. He had +scarcely expected such a reception. + +"I can only apologize, Madame," he said with a bow, "for intruding. I +will await your husband's return in the hall." + +He bowed low, and turned to leave the room. He had almost reached the +door before she stopped him. + +"Wait!" + +He turned round. Her voice was different. + +"Come and sit down here," she said, pointing to a sofa by her side. + +He obeyed her, thoroughly amazed. She leaned back amongst the cushions +and looked at him thoughtfully. + +"How is it that you--an Englishman--speak French so well?" she asked. + +"I lived in Paris for some years," he answered. + +"Indeed! And yet you returned to--Norfolk, is it?" + +He bowed. + +"It is true, Madame!" he admitted. + +"How droll!" she murmured. "Miss Poynton--she is an old friend of +yours?" + +"I am very anxious to see her, Madame!" + +"Why?" + +He hesitated. After all, his was no secret mission. + +"I have reason to believe," he said, "that a mistake has been made in +the identity of the body found in the Seine and supposed to be her +brother's." + +She gave a little start. It seemed to him that from that moment she +regarded him with more interest. + +"But that, Monsieur," she said, "is not possible." + +"Why not?" + +She did not answer him for a moment. Instead she rang a bell. + +A servant appeared almost immediately. + +"Request Monsieur le Marquis to step this way immediately he returns," +she ordered. + +The man bowed and withdrew. The Marquise turned again to Duncombe. + +"It is quite impossible!" she repeated. "Do you know who it was that +identified--the young man?" + +Duncombe shook his head. + +"I know nothing," he said. "I saw the notice in the paper, and I have +been to the Morgue with a friend." + +"Were you allowed to see it?" + +"No! For some reason or other we were not. But we managed to bribe one +of the attendants, and we got the police description." + +"This," Madame said, "is interesting. Well?" + +"There was one point in particular in the description," Duncombe said, +"and a very important one, which proved to us both that the dead man was +not Guy Poynton." + +"It is no secret, I presume?" she said. "Tell me what it was." + +Duncombe hesitated. He saw no reason for concealing the facts. + +"The height of the body," he said, "was given as five feet nine. Guy +Poynton was over six feet." + +The Marquise nodded her head slowly. + +"And now," she said, "shall I tell you who it is who identified the body +at the Morgue--apart from the papers which were found in his pocket, and +which certainly belonged to Mr. Poynton?" + +"I should be interested to know," he admitted. + +"It was Miss Poynton herself. It is that which has upset her so. She +recognized him at once." + +"Are you sure of this, Madame?" Duncombe asked. + +"I myself," the Marquise answered, "accompanied her there. It was +terrible." + +Duncombe looked very grave. + +"I am indeed sorry to hear this," he said. "There can be no possibility +of any mistake, then?" + +"None whatever!" the Marquise declared. + +"You will permit me to see her?" Duncombe begged. "If I am not a very +old friend--I am at least an intimate one." + +The Marquise shook her head. + +"She is not in a fit state to see any one," she declared. "The visit to +the Morgue has upset her almost as much as the affair itself. You must +have patience, Monsieur. In a fortnight or three weeks at the earliest +she may be disposed to see friends. Certainly not at present." + +"I may send her a message?" Duncombe asked. + +The Marquise nodded. + +"Yes. You may write it, if you like." + +"And I may wait for an answer?" + +"Yes." + +Duncombe scribbled a few lines on the back of a visiting-card. The +Marquise took it from him and rose. + +"I will return," she said. "You shall be entirely satisfied." + +She left him alone for nearly ten minutes. She had scarcely left the +room when another visitor entered. The Vicomte de Bergillac, in a dark +brown suit and an apple-green tie, bowed to Duncombe, and carefully +selected the most comfortable chair in his vicinity. + +"So you took my advice, Monsieur," he remarked, helping himself to a +cushion from another chair, and placing it behind his head. + +"I admit it," Duncombe answered. "On the whole I believe that it was +very good advice." + +"Would you," the Vicomte murmured, "like another dose?" + +"I trust," Duncombe said, "that there is no necessity." + +The Vicomte reflected. + +"Why are you here?" he asked. + +"To see Miss Poynton." + +"And again why?" + +Duncombe smiled. The boy's manner was so devoid of impertinence that he +found it impossible to resent his questions. + +"Well," he said, "I came hoping to bring Miss Poynton some good news. I +had information which led me seriously to doubt whether the body which +has been found in the Seine is really her brother's." + +The Vicomte sat up as though he had been shot. + +"My friend," he said slowly, "I take some interest in you, but, upon my +word, I begin to believe that you will end your days in the Morgue +yourself. As you value your life, don't tell any one else what you have +told me. I trust that I am the first." + +"I have told the Marquise," Duncombe answered, "and she has gone to find +out whether Miss Poynton will see me." + +The Vicomte's patent boot tapped the floor slowly. + +"You have told the Marquise," he repeated thoughtfully. "Stop! I must +think!" + +There was a short silence. Then the Vicomte looked up. + +"Very well," he said. "Now listen! Have you any confidence in me?" + +"Undoubtedly," Duncombe answered. "The advice you gave me before was, I +know, good. It was confirmed a few hours following, and, as you know, I +followed it." + +"Then listen," the Vicomte said. "_L'affaire Poynton_ is in excellent +hands. The young lady will come to no harm. You are here, I know, +because you are her friend. You can help her if you will." + +"How?" Duncombe asked. + +"By leaving Paris to-day." + +"Your advice," Duncombe said grimly, "seems to lack variety." + +The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders. + +"The other affair," he said; "is still open. If I stepped to the +telephone here you would be arrested within the hour." + +"Can't you leave the riddles out and talk so that an ordinary man can +understand you for a few minutes?" Duncombe begged. + +"It is exactly what remains impossible," the Vicomte answered smoothly. +"But you know the old saying, you have doubtless something similar in +your own country, 'It is from our friends we suffer most.' Your +presence here, your--forgive me--somewhat clumsy attempts to solve this +_affaire Poynton_, are likely to be a cause of embarrassment to the +young lady herself and to others. Apart from that, it will certainly +cost you your life." + +"Without some shadow of an explanation," Duncombe said calmly, "I remain +where I am in case I can be of assistance to Miss Poynton." + +The young man shrugged his shoulders, and sauntering to a mirror +rearranged his tie. Madame la Marquise entered. + +"You, Henri!" she exclaimed. + +He bowed low with exaggerated grace, and kissed the tips of her fingers. + +"I!" he answered. "And--for this time with a perfectly legitimate reason +for my coming. A commission from my uncle." + +"_L'affaire Poynton?_" + +"Exactly, dear cousin." + +"But why," she asked, "did they not show you into my room?" + +"I learnt that my friend Sir George Duncombe was here, and I desired to +see him," he rejoined. + +She shrugged her dainty shoulders. + +"You will wait!" she directed. Then she turned to Duncombe, and handed +him a sealed envelope. + +"If you please," she said, "will you read that--now." + +He tore it open, and read the few hasty lines. Then he looked up, and +met the Marquise's expectant gaze. + +"Madame," he said slowly, "does this come from Miss Poynton of her own +free will?" + +She laughed insolently. + +"Monsieur," she said, "my guests are subject to no coercion in this +house." + +He bowed, and turned towards the door. + +"Your answer, Monsieur?" she called out. + +"There is no answer," he replied. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS + + +THE Marquise made a wry face at his departing figure, which changed +swiftly into a smile as she turned to the young Vicomte. + +"Ah, these Englishmen!" she exclaimed. "These dull, good, obstinate, +stupid pigs of Englishmen! If they would lose their tempers once--get +angry, anything. Do they make love as coldly, I wonder?" + +"Dear cousin," he answered, "I do not know. But if you will permit me I +will show you----" + +"Henri!" + +He sighed. + +"You are so adorable, Angele," he murmured. + +"And you," she answered, "are so indiscreet. It is not your day, and I +am expecting Gustav at any moment, I have left word that he is to be +shown up here. There, my hand for one moment, not so roughly, sir. And +now tell me why you came." + +"On a diplomatic errand, my dear cousin. I must see Miss Poynton." + +She touched a bell. + +"I will send for her," she said. "I shall not let you see her alone. She +is much too good-looking, and you are far too impressionable!" + +He looked at her reproachfully. + +"Angele," he said, "you speak so of a young English miss--to me, Henri +de Bergillac--to me who have known--who knows----" + +She interrupted him laughing. The exaggerated devotion of his manner +seemed to amuse her. + +"My dear Henri!" she said. "I do not believe that even a young English +miss is safe from you. But attend! She comes." + +Phyllis entered the room and came towards them. She was dressed in +black, and she was still pale, but her eyes and mouth were wholly +without affinity to the class of young person whom Henri had expected to +see. He rose and bowed, and Phyllis regarded him with frank interest. + +"Phyllis," the Marquise said, "this is the Vicomte de Bergillac, and he +brings you messages from some one or other. Your affairs are quite too +complicated for my little head. Sit down and let him talk to you." + +"If Monsieur le Vicomte has brought me messages from the right person," +Phyllis said with a smile, "he will be very welcome. Seriously, +Monsieur, I seem to have fallen amongst friends here whose only +unkindness is an apparent desire to turn my life into a maze. I hope +that you are going to lead me out." + +"I can conceive, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered with his hand upon +his heart, "no more delightful undertaking." + +"Then I am quite sure," she answered, laughing softly, "that we are both +going to be very happy. Please go on!" + +"Mademoiselle speaks delightful French," he murmured, a little +surprised. + +"And, Monsieur, I can see," she answered, "is an apt flatterer. +Afterwards as much as you please. But now--well, I want to hear about +Guy." + +"Mademoiselle has commanded," he said with a little gesture. "To proceed +then. Monsieur Guy is well, and is my constant companion. He is with +friends who wish him well, and this morning, Mademoiselle, the President +himself has given written orders to the police to proceed no further in +the unfortunate little affair of which Mademoiselle has knowledge." + +Phyllis had lost all her pallor. She smiled delightfully upon him. +Madame la Marquise rose with a little impatient movement, and walked to +the further end of the room. + +"How nice of you to come and tell me this," she exclaimed, "and what a +relief! I am sure I think he is very fortunate to have made such good +friends." + +"Mademoiselle," he declared with emphasis, "one at least of those +friends is more than repaid." + +She laughed back into his eyes, frankly amused by his gallantry. + +"And now," she said, "we come to the beginning of the riddles. Why is it +necessary for him to be supposed drowned, if he is no longer in danger +from the police?" + +"Ah, Mademoiselle," he said, "I must speak to you now of strange things. +But, first, I must implore you to promise me this, and remember it +always. Every word that I am going to say to you now must remain for the +present a profound secret. That is agreed?" + +"Certainly!" she answered. + +"Your brother," he continued, "in his travels on the Continent stumbled +by chance upon a State secret of international importance. He had +himself no idea of it, but a chance word which he let fall, on the first +evening I met him, gave the clue to myself and some friends. In his +enforced retirement we--that is, my uncle and others--learned from him +the whole story of his adventure. It has placed the Government of this +country under great obligations. This, together with your service to us, +has secured his pardon." + +"This is wonderful!" she murmured. + +"It is not all," he continued. "The spies of the country where he learnt +this secret have followed him to Paris. They are to-day searching for +him everywhere. If they knew that he realized the importance of what he +had seen, and had communicated it to the proper persons here, our +advantage in knowing it would be largely lost. So far they have not +traced him. Now, I think that you have the key to what must have puzzled +you so much." + +"This is wonderful!" she murmured. "Let me think for a moment." + +"You are naturally anxious," the Vicomte continued, "to see your +brother. Before very long, Mademoiselle, I trust that it may be my +pleasure to bring you together. But when I tell you that you are watched +continually in the hope that, through you, your brother's hiding-place +may be found, you will understand the wisdom which for the present keeps +you apart." + +"I suppose so," she answered dubiously. "But now that his death is +reported?" + +"Exactly, Mademoiselle. The affair has been arranged so that the search +for your brother will be abandoned and the espionage on you removed. If +the story of his doings in Paris, and the tragic sequel to them, be +believed by those whom we wish to believe it, then they will also assume +that his secret has died with him, and that their schemes move on +towards success. You understand?" + +"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte, I understand," she answered slowly. "What, +then, do you wish me to do?" + +"Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered, fixing his dark eyes impressively +upon her, "for you there remains the hardest of all tasks--inaction. +Believe me that when I came here, it was not my intention to put the +truth of the matter so plainly before you. Neither was it the will of +those whose orders I carry out. But I, Mademoiselle, before all things, +I believe in inspiration. I find in Mademoiselle"--he bowed once +more--"qualities which alter the situation. I--a judge of faces as I +venture to believe myself--have looked into yours, and many things have +happened." + +She laughed delightfully. Her eyes were lit with humor. + +"Ah, Monsieur!" she protested. + +"With you, Mademoiselle," he continued, "reposes now a secret of great +importance to your country and mine. I ask for no pledge of discretion, +but I rely upon it. And, especially, Mademoiselle, may I warn you +against your friends?" + +"I understand," she answered. "You wish me to share this confidence with +no one." + +"With no one," the Vicomte repeated impressively. "Not even, +Mademoiselle, if I may venture to mention a name, with your very +persistent admirer, Sir George Duncombe, whom I saw here a few moments +since." + +She sighed, and the Vicomte's face became one of pale anxiety. + +"I have not been permitted to see him," she answered. "He was here a few +minutes ago." + +"It is wiser so, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte said. "I wonder," he added, +"whether Mademoiselle will pardon the impertinence of a purely personal +question?" + +"I will try," she answered demurely. + +"This Englishman--Sir George Duncombe--are you perhaps--how you say, +betrothed to him?" + +A certain bluntness in the question, and the real or affected anxiety of +the young man's tone brought the color streaming into her cheeks. + +"Monsieur," she exclaimed, "you really must not----" + +"Ah, but, Mademoiselle," he interrupted, "so much depends upon your +answer." + +"Absurd!" she murmured. "I really do not see why I should answer such a +question at all." + +"You will be merciful?" he begged, lowering his tone. + +"I will," she answered. "I hope you will appreciate my confidence. I am +not engaged to Sir George Duncombe." + +His sigh of relief was marvellous. She found it harder than ever to keep +the laughter from her eyes. + +"Mademoiselle," he declared, "it makes me happy to have you say this." + +"Really, Vicomte!" she protested. + +"The situation, too," he said, "becomes less complex. We can very easily +deal with him now. He shall annoy you no more!" + +"But he doesn't annoy me," she answered calmly. "On the contrary I +should like to see him very much, if I were permitted." + +"Mademoiselle will understand well the indiscretion," he said earnestly. + +She sighed a little wearily. + +"I am afraid," she said, "that I find it a little hard to understand +anything clearly, but you see that I trust you. I will not see him." + +"Mademoiselle is very wise," he answered. "Indeed, it is better not. +There remains now a question which I have come to ask." + +"Well?" + +"Mademoiselle did not by chance whilst waiting for her brother think of +examining his luggage?" + +She nodded. + +"I did look through it," she admitted. + +"There was a paper there, which is missing now--a sheet of paper with +writing on it--in German. It is not possible that Mademoiselle took +possession of it?" he demanded eagerly. + +She nodded. + +"That is just what I did do," she said. "I could read a few words, and I +could not understand how it came to be in his bag. It seemed to be part +of an official agreement between two countries." + +"You have it now?" he cried eagerly. "You have it in your possession?" + +She shook her head + +"I gave it to some one to take care of," she said, "when I was over in +England. I got frightened when we were nearly caught at Runton, and I +did not want it to be found upon me." + +"To whom?" he cried. + +"To Sir George Duncombe!" + +The Vicomte was silent for a moment. + +"You believe," he asked, "that Sir George Duncombe would guard it +carefully?" + +"I am sure he would," she answered. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "this is very important. Your brother's luggage +has been searched, and we came to the conclusion that the paper had been +taken by those who had followed him here, and may possibly have been +aware that he had it. If we can get possession of it, it will be very +much to the advantage of your country and mine. I scarcely dare say +more. Will you give me a letter to Sir George instructing him to deliver +it up to me?" + +She leaned a little forward and looked steadily into his eyes. + +"Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I do not know you very well, and it is +very hard indeed for me to tell who are my friends here. Can I trust +you?" + +"Mademoiselle," he answered, "I will not say 'like your brother,' for it +is a relationship I have no wish to bear. Let me say like the person to +whom your welfare is dearer even than his own." + +Phyllis felt her lips curve into a smile. Despite his youth and manner, +which seemed to her a little affected, there was nevertheless undoubted +earnestness in the admiration which he took no pains to conceal. + +"Very well, Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I will give you the +letter." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW + + +They came face to face in the hall of the Grand Hotel. Duncombe had just +returned from his call upon the Marquise. Andrew was leaning upon the +arm of a dark, smooth-shaven man, and had apparently just descended from +the lift. At the sound of Duncombe's little exclamation they both +stopped short. Andrew turned his heavily spectacled eyes in Duncombe's +direction, but it was obvious that he saw nothing. + +"You here, Andrew!" + +"Yes! Why not?" + +The tone was curt, almost discourteous. Duncombe understood at once. + +"Let us sit down somewhere, and talk for a few minutes," he said. "I did +not expect you. You should have let me know that you were coming." + +Andrew laughed a little bitterly. + +"I scarcely see why," he said. "To tell you the truth, I see no +advantage to either of us in any intercourse." + +Duncombe took him by the arm and led him towards the smoking-room. + +"Andrew," he said, "perhaps I have behaved badly--at least from your +point of view, but remember that I warned you. Let us sit down here. Who +is your friend?" + +"Never mind," Andrew answered. "You can say what you have to before him. +He is in my confidence." + +Duncombe glanced around. The man had taken the chair next to them, and +was evidently prepared to listen to all that was said. His clothes and +bearing, and quiet, unobtrusive manners, all seemed to suggest +truthfully enough his possible identity--an English detective from an +advertised office. Duncombe smiled as he realized the almost pitiful +inadequacy of such methods. + +"Come, Andrew," he said, turning to his friend, "you have a small +grievance against me, and you think you have a great one." + +"A small grievance!" Andrew murmured softly. "Thank you, Duncombe." + +"Go on, then. State it!" Duncombe declared. "Let me hear what is in your +mind." + +Andrew raised his brows slowly. Twice he seemed to speak, but at the +last moment remained silent. He was obviously struggling to control +himself. + +"There is this in my mind against you, Duncombe," he said finally. "I +sent for you as a friend. You accepted a charge from me--as my friend. +And you betrayed me." + +Duncombe shook his head. + +"Listen, Andrew," he said. "I want to remind you again of what I said +just now. I warned you! No, don't interrupt. It may have sounded like +nonsense to you. I meant every word I said. I honestly tried to make you +understand. I came here; I risked many things. I failed! I returned to +England. Up till then you had nothing to complain of. Then, Heaven knows +why, but the very girl whom I had gone to Paris to seek came to Runton +in the guise at least of an adventuress." + +Andrew lifted his head quickly. + +"You admit it at last, then?" he cried. + +"Yes, I admit it now," Duncombe agreed. + +"You lied to me there--to me who had no eyes, who trusted you. What was +that but betrayal, rank, inexcusable betrayal!" + +"Listen, Andrew," Duncombe said. "She told me that she was not Phyllis +Poynton. It was enough for me. I disregarded my convictions. Her word +was my law. She said that she was not Phyllis Poynton, and to me she +never was Phyllis Poynton. She was afraid of you, and I helped her to +avoid you. I admit it! It is the extent of my failing in our friendship, +and you were warned." + +"And now?" + +"I am here now," Duncombe said a little sadly, "because I love her, and +because I cannot keep away. But she will not see me, and I am no nearer +solving the mystery than ever. On the contrary, I know that I am in +danger here. It is possible that I may be driven to leave Paris +to-night." + +"You know where she is now?" + +"Yes." + +Andrew leaned suddenly over, and his grip was on Duncombe's shoulder +like a vise. + +"Then, by God, you shall tell me!" he said fiercely. "Don't you know, +man, that Guy has been found in the Seine, robbed and drugged, and +murdered without a doubt? Do you want me to wait whilst something of the +same sort happens to her? You shall tell me where she is, Duncombe. I +say that you shall tell me!" + +Duncombe hesitated. + +"You can do no more than I have done," he said. + +"Then at least I will do as much," Andrew answered. "I am her oldest +friend, and I have claims upon her which you never could have. Now that +she is in this terrible trouble my place is by her side. I----" + +"One moment, Andrew," Duncombe interrupted. "Are you sure that it was +Guy Poynton who was found in the Seine? The height was given as five +feet nine, and Guy Poynton was over six feet." + +"You should read the papers," Andrew answered shortly. "He was +identified by his sister." + +"The papers said so," Duncombe answered hesitatingly; "but----" + +"Look here," Andrew interrupted, "I have had enough of this playing with +facts. You have grown too complex about this business altogether, +Duncombe. Give me Phyllis Poynton's address." + +"You shall have it," Duncombe answered, taking a leaf from his +pocketbook and writing. "I don't think that it will be any good to you. +I think that it is more likely to lead you into trouble. Miss Poynton is +with the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. They are of the first +nobility in France. Their position as people of honor and circumstance +appears undoubted. But nevertheless, if you are allowed to see her I +shall be surprised." + +The hall-porter approached them, hat in hand. + +"A lady to see Monsieur," he announced to Andrew. + +Andrew rose and took his companion's arm. He scarcely glanced again +towards Duncombe, who followed them out of the room. And there in the +hall awaiting them was the young lady from Vienna, quietly dressed in +black, but unmistakable with her pretty hair and perfumes. Duncombe +watched them shake hands and move away before he could recover +sufficiently from his first fit of surprise to intervene. Then a +realization of what had happened rushed in upon him. They, too, then, +had been to the Cafe Montmartre, with their obvious Anglicisms, their +clumsy inquiries--to make of themselves without doubt the jest of that +little nest of intriguers, and afterwards their tool. Duncombe thought +of the fruits of his own inquiries there, and shivered. He hurried after +the little party, who were apparently on their way to the cafe. + +"Andrew," he said, grasping him by the arm, "I must speak with you +alone--at once." + +"I see no object in any further discussion between us," Andrew said +calmly. + +"Don't be a fool!" Duncombe answered. "That woman you are with is a spy. +If you have anything to do with her you are injuring Phyllis Poynton. +She is not here to give you information. She is at work for her own +ends." + +"You are becoming more communicative, my friend," Andrew said, with +something which was almost a sneer. "You did not talk so freely a few +minutes back. It seems as though we were on the eve of a discovery." + +"You are on the brink of making an idiot of yourself," Duncombe answered +quickly. "You were mad to bring that blundering English detective over +here. What the French police cannot or do not choose to discover, do you +suppose that they would allow an Englishman to find out--a stranger to +Paris, and with an accent like that? If I cannot keep you from folly by +any other means I must break my word to others. Come back into the +smoking-room with me, and I will tell you why you are mad to have +anything to do with that woman." + +"Thank you," Andrew answered, "I think not. I have confidence in Mr. +Lloyd, my friend here, and I have none in you." + +"Andrew!" + +"I speak as I feel!" + +"Leave me out of the question. It is Phyllis Poynton you will harm. I +see that your friend is listening, and Mademoiselle is impatient. Make +your excuses for ten minutes, Andrew. You will never regret it." + +The detective, who had evidently overheard everything, stepped back to +them. + +"You will excuse my interfering, sir," he said, "but if this case is to +remain in my hands at all it is necessary for me to hear all that Sir +George Duncombe has to say. The young lady will wait for a moment. This +case is difficult enough as it is, what with the jealousy of the French +police, who naturally don't want us to find out what they can't. If Sir +George Duncombe has any information to give now," the man added with +emphasis, "which he withheld a few minutes ago, I think that I ought to +hear it from his own lips." + +"I agree entirely with what Mr. Lloyd has said," Andrew declared. + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He looked around him cautiously, but +they were in a corner of the entresol, and no one was within hearing +distance. + +"Very well," he said. "To save you from danger, and Miss Poynton from +further trouble, I am going to break a confidence which has been reposed +in me, and to give you the benefit of my own surmises. In the first +place, Mr. Lloyd is mistaken in supposing that the French police have +been in the least puzzled by this double disappearance. On the contrary, +they are perfectly well aware of all the facts of the case, and could +have produced Miss Poynton or her brother at any moment. They are +working not for us, but against us!" + +"Indeed!" Mr. Lloyd said in a tone of disbelief. "And their object?" + +"Here is as much of the truth as I dare tell you," Duncombe said. "Guy +Poynton whilst on the Continent became the chance possessor of an +important State secret. He was followed to France by spies from that +country--we will call it Germany--and the young lady who awaits you so +impatiently is, if not one of them, at least one of their friends. At +the Cafe Montmartre he gave his secret away to people who are in some +measure allied with the secret service police of France. He was +kidnapped by them, and induced to remain hidden by a trick. Meanwhile +diplomacy makes use of his information, and foreign spies look for him +in vain. His sister, when she came to search for him, was simply an +inconvenience which these people had not contemplated. She was worked +upon by fears concerning her brother's safety to go into hiding. Both +have been well cared for, and the report of Guy's death is, I firmly +believe, nothing but an attempt to lull the anxieties of the spies who +are searching for him. This young woman here may be able to tell you +into whose hands he has fallen, but you may take my word for it that +she is in greater need of information than you are, and that she is an +exceedingly dangerous person for you to discuss the Poyntons with. There +are the crude facts. I have only known them a few hours myself, and +there is a good deal which I cannot explain. But this I honestly and +firmly believe. Neither you nor I nor Mr. Lloyd here can do the +slightest good by interfering in this matter. For myself, I am leaving +for England to-night." + +Duncombe, like most honest men, expected to be believed. If he had +entertained the slightest doubt about it he would not have dared to open +his mouth. The silence that followed he could understand. No doubt they +were as amazed as he had been. But it was a different thing when he saw +the expression on Andrew's face as he turned to his companion. + +"What do you think of this, Lloyd?" he asked. + +"I am afraid, sir," the man answered, "that some of the clever ones have +been imposing upon Sir George. It generally turns out so when amateurs +tackle a job like this." + +Duncombe looked at him in astonishment. + +"Do you mean to say that you don't believe me?" he exclaimed. + +"I wouldn't put it like that, sir," the man answered with a deprecating +smile. "I think you have been misled by those who did not wish you to +discover the truth." + +Duncombe turned sharply on his heel. + +"And you, Andrew?" + +"I wish to do you justice," Andrew answered coldly, "and I am willing to +believe that you have faith yourself in the extraordinary story you +have just told us. But frankly I think that you have been too +credulous." + +Duncombe lost his temper. He turned on his heel, and walked back into +the hotel. + +"You can go to the devil your own way!" he declared. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE + + +Spencer tried to rise from the sofa, but the effort was too much for +him. Pale and thin, with black lines under his eyes, and bloodless lips, +he seemed scarcely more than the wreck of his former self. + +His visitor laid his stick and hat upon the table. Then he bowed once +more to Spencer, and stood looking at him, leaning slightly against the +table. + +"I am permitted," he asked gently, "to introduce myself?" + +"Quite unnecessary!" Spencer answered. + +The Baron shrugged his shoulders. + +"You know me?" he asked. + +The shadow of a smile flitted across Spencer's face. + +"By many names, Monsieur Louis," he answered. + +His visitor smiled. Debonair in dress and deportment, there seemed +nothing to inspire alarm in the air of gentle concern with which he +regarded the man whom he had come to visit. Yet Spencer cursed the +languor which had kept him from recovering the revolver which an hour or +more before had slipped from underneath his cushion. + +"It saves trouble," Monsieur Louis said. "I come to you. Monsieur +Spencer, as a friend." + +"You alarm me," Spencer murmured. + +Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders. + +"You are pleased to be witty," he answered. "But indeed I am no such +terrible person. It is permitted that I smoke?" + +"Certainly," Spencer answered. "If you care for wine or liqueurs pray +ring for my servant. I can assure you that it is not by my own will that +you find me so indifferent a host." + +"I thank you," Monsieur Louis answered. "I think that we will not ring +the bell. It would be a pity to disturb an interview to which I have +looked forward with so much pleasure." + +"_L'affaire Poynton?_" Spencer suggested. + +"Precisely!" + +"You have perhaps come to complete the little affair in which so far you +have succeeded so admirably?" + +"Pray do not suggest such a thing," Monsieur Louis answered +deprecatingly. "For one thing I should not personally run the risk. And +for another have I not already assured you that I come as a friend?" + +"It was then," Spencer answered, "that I began to be frightened." + +Monsieur Louis smiled. He drew a gold cigarette case from his pocket, +and calmly lit a cigarette. + +"Since you permit, _mon ami_," he said. "Good! I speak better when I +smoke. You are not so ill, I see, but that you retain that charming +sense of humor your readers have learnt so well how to appreciate." + +"The dose was scarcely strong enough," Spencer answered. "Or perhaps by +good fortune I stumbled upon the proper antidote." + +"I see that you like plain speaking," Monsieur Louis continued with a +gentle smile. "Permit me to assure you then that the dose was quite as +strong as we wished. Extremes are sometimes necessary, but we avoid +them whenever possible." + +"I wonder where it happened," Spencer said reflectively. "I have been on +my guard all the time. I have watched my wine and coffee at the cafes, +and I have eaten only in the restaurants that I know." + +Monsieur Louis did not seem to think the matter important. + +"It was bound to happen," he said. "If you had been like your +friends--the English baronet and the last two, who are even more +amusing--perhaps it would not have been necessary. But you +understand--you were beginning to discover things." + +"Yes," Spencer admitted. "I was beginning to get interested." + +"Exactly! We were forced to act. I can assure you, Monsieur Spencer, +that it was with reluctance. The others of whom I have spoken--Sir +George Duncombe, Monsieur Pelham, and his toy detective--forgive me that +I smile--walk all the time in the palm of our hand. But they remain +unharmed. If by any chance they should blunder into the knowledge of +things which might cause us annoyance, why, then--there would be more +invalids in Paris. Indeed, Monsieur, we do not seek to abuse our power. +My errand to you to-day is one of mercy." + +"You make me ashamed," Spencer said, with a sarcasm which he took no +pains to conceal, "of my unworthy suspicions. To proceed." + +"You have sent for Sir George Duncombe to come and see you!" + +Spencer was silent for a moment. His own servant unfaithful? It was not +possible. + +"Well?" + +"Even you," the Baron continued, "have not yet solved the mystery of +_l'affaire Poynton_. But you know more than Sir George. Let me recommend +that you do not share your knowledge with him." + +"Why not?" + +"If you do Sir George will at once share your indisposition." + +"I begin to understand," Spencer said. + +"How otherwise? Send Sir George home. You see the delicacy of our +position. It is not so much that we fear Sir George Duncombe's +interference, but he again is followed and watched over by our enemies, +who would easily possess themselves of any information which he might +gain." + +Spencer nodded. + +"It is good reasoning," he admitted. + +"Listen," Monsieur Louis continued. "I speak now on behalf of my +friends. You know whom I mean. You have solved the mystery of our +existence. We are omnipotent. The police and the secret service police +and the Government itself are with us. We have license throughout the +city. We may do what others may not. For us there is no crime. I kill +you now perhaps. The police arrive. I am before the Commissioner. I give +him the sign--it is _l'affaire Poynton_. I go free! It is a certain +thing." + +"Granted!" Spencer said. "Proceed with your killing, or your argument." + +"With the latter, if you please," Monsieur Louis answered. "I do not +choose to kill. _L'affaire Poynton_, then. Harm is not meant to either +of these young people. That I assure you upon my honor. In three weeks, +or say a month, we have finished. They may return to their homes if they +will. We have no further interest in them. For those three weeks you +must remain as you are--you, and if you have influence over him, Sir +George Duncombe. The other two fools we have no care for. If they +blundered into knowledge--well, they must pay. They are not our concern, +yours and mine. For you, I bring you an offer, Monsieur Spencer." + +"_Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes!_" Spencer murmured. + +Monsieur Louis smiled. + +"My gift," he answered, "will not terrify you. You are a journalist. I +offer to make the fortune of your paper. You shall be the first to +announce an affair of the greatest international importance since the +war between Russia and Japan was declared. No, I will go further than +that. It is the greatest event since Waterloo." + +"_L'affaire Poynton_ strikes so deep?" Spencer remarked. + +"So deep," the Baron answered. "It is the fools who grope their way into +great places. So did the boy Poynton. You, my friend, shall be the one +brilliant exception. You shall make yourself the king of journalists, +and you shall be quoted down the century as having achieved the greatest +journalistic feat of modern days." + +Spencer turned his drawn, haggard face towards his visitor. A slight +flush of color stained his cheek. + +"You fascinate me," he said slowly. "I admit it. You have found the weak +spot in my armor. Proceed! For whom do you speak?" + +Monsieur Louis abandoned his somewhat lounging attitude. He stood by +Spencer's side, and, leaning down, whispered in his ear. Spencer's eyes +grew bright. + +"Monsieur Louis," he said, "you play at a great game." + +The Baron shrugged his shoulders. + +"Me!" he answered. "I am but a pawn. I do what I am told." + +"To return for a moment to _l'affaire Poynton_," Spencer said. "I am in +the humor to trust you. Have I then your assurance that the boy and girl +do not suffer?" + +"Upon my own honor and the honor of the company to whom I belong," he +answered with some show of dignity. "It is a pledge which I have never +yet broken." + +"I am a bribed man," Spencer answered. + +Monsieur Louis threw away his second cigarette. He cast a look almost of +admiration upon the man who still lay stretched upon the couch. + +"You are the only Englishman I ever met, Monsieur Spencer," he said, +"who was not pig-headed. You have the tenacity of your countrymen, but +you have the genius to pick out the right thread from the tangle, to +know truth when you meet it, even in unlikely places. I doff my hat to +you, Monsieur Spencer. If you permit I will send my own physician to +you. You will be yourself in a week." + +"You know the antidote?" Spencer remarked grimly. + +"Naturally! Accidents will happen. You wish that I should send him?" + +"Without doubt," Spencer answered. "I am weary of this couch." + +"You shall leave it in a week," Monsieur promised, as he left the room. + +Spencer closed his eyes. Already he felt coming on the daily headache, +which, with the terrible weakness, was a part of his symptoms. But there +was no rest for him yet. Monsieur Louis had scarcely been gone five +minutes when Duncombe arrived. + +Duncombe had had no word of his friend's illness. He stood over his +couch in shocked surprise. + +"My dear fellow," he exclaimed. "I had no idea that you were ill. This +is why I have not heard from you, then." + +Spencer smiled as he held out his hand, and Duncombe, who seemed to +catch some meaning in the upraised eyebrows of his friend, was shocked. + +"You mean?" he exclaimed. + +Spencer nodded. + +"_L'affaire Poynton_" he said gently. "A very subtle dose of poison +indeed, my friend. I shall not die, but I have had my little lesson. +Here the individual has little chance. We fight against forces that are +too many for us. I told you so at the start." + +"Yet I," Duncombe answered, "have not suffered." + +"My friend," Spencer answered, "it is because I am the more dangerous." + +"You have discovered something?" Duncombe exclaimed. + +"I came near discovering a great deal," Spencer answered. "Perhaps it +would have been better for my system if I had discovered a little less. +As it is I have finished with _l'affaire Poynton_ for the present. You +see how very nearly _l'affaire Poynton_ finished me." + +"It is not like you," Duncombe said thoughtfully, "to give anything up." + +"We come face to face sometimes with unique experiences, which destroy +precedent," Spencer answered. "This is one of them." + +"And what," Duncombe asked, "do you advise me to do?" + +"Always the same advice," Spencer answered. "Leave Paris to-day. Go +straight back to Norfolk, read the newspapers, and await events." + +"Well, I think that I shall do so," Duncombe answered slowly. "I have +found out where Miss Poynton is, but she will not see me. I have made an +enemy of my dearest friend, and I have, at any rate, interrupted your +career and endangered your life. Yes, I will go back home." + +"You may yet save your friend some--inconvenience," Spencer suggested. +"Try to persuade him to go back with you." + +"He will not listen to me," Duncombe answered. "He has brought an +English detective with him, and he is as obstinate as a mule. For myself +I leave at nine o'clock." + +"You are well advised, exceedingly well advised," Spencer said. "Mind I +do not take the responsibility of sending you away without serious +reasons. I honestly believe that Miss Poynton is safe, whatever may have +happened to her brother, and I believe that you will serve her best by +your temporary absence." + +Duncombe stood for a moment wrapped in thought. The last few months had +aged him strangely. The strenuous days and nights of anxious thought had +left their mark in deep lines upon his face. He looked out of the +window of Spencer's room, and his eyes saw little of the busy street +below. He was alone once more with this strange, terrified girl upon the +hillside, with the wind in their faces, and making wild havoc in her +hair. He was with her in different moods in the little room behind his +library, when the natural joy of her young life had for the moment +reasserted itself. He was with her at their parting. He saw half the +fearful regret with which she had left his care and accepted the +intervention of the Marquise. Stirring times these had been for a man of +his quiet temperament, whom matters of sentiment and romance had passed +lightly by, and whose passions had never before been touched by the +finger of fire. And now he was going back to an empty life--a life at +least empty of joy, save the hope of seeing her again. For good or for +evil, the great thing had found its way into his life. His days of calm +animal enjoyment were over. Sorrow or joy was to be his. He had passed +into the shadows of the complex life. + +He remembered where he was at last, and turned to Spencer. + +"About yourself, Spencer," he said. "Have you seen a doctor?" + +"Yes. I am not seriously ill," his friend answered. "The worst is over +now. And, Duncombe, it's hard for you to go, I know--but look here, I +believe that you will be back in a month, and taking Miss Poynton to +lunch _chez_ Ritz. I never felt so sure of it as I do to-day." + +Duncombe remembered the answer to his note, and found it hard to share +his friend's cheerfulness. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A POLITICAL INTERLUDE + + +Duncombe laid down his cue and strolled towards the sideboard, where his +guest was already mixing himself a whisky and soda. + +"By the by, Runton," he said, "have you seen anything of our friend Von +Rothe since that little affair at your place?" + +Lord Runton shook his head. + +"Not once," he answered. "He behaved very decently about it on the +whole; treated it quite lightly--but he wouldn't let me go near the +police. It was a long way the most unpleasant thing that ever happened +in my house." + +"Never any further light upon it, I suppose?" Duncombe asked. + +Lord Runton shook his head. + +"None. Of course we could have traced them both without a doubt if we +had put it in the hands of the police, but Von Rothe wouldn't hear of +it. He tried to treat it lightly, but I know that he was very much +worried." + +"Do you yourself believe," Duncombe asked, "that it was a political +affair or an ordinary robbery?" + +"I think that it was the former," Lord Runton answered. "Those people +were not common adventurers. By the by, George, have you got over your +little weakness yet?" he added with a smile. + +Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. + +"Nearly made a fool of myself, didn't I?" he remarked, with a levity +which did not sound altogether natural. + +"She was an uncommonly fascinating young woman," Lord Runton said, "but +she didn't seem to me very old at the game. She was clever enough to +fool Von Rothe, though. He admits that he told her that he was expecting +a special messenger from Berlin." + +Duncombe seemed to have had enough of the subject. He got up and filled +his pipe. + +"Is Jack coming down this week?" he asked. + +"No! He wired this morning that he can't get away. Sefton isn't coming, +either. Between ourselves, George, something seems to be going on at the +Foreign Office which I don't understand." + +"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked. "There has been no hint at any sort +of trouble in the papers." + +"That's just what I don't understand," Lord Runton continued. "It is +certain that there is an extraordinary amount of activity at Portsmouth +and Woolwich, but even the little halfpenny sensational papers make no +more than a passing allusion to it. Then look at the movements of our +fleet. The whole of the Mediterranean Fleet is at Gibraltar, and the +Channel Squadron is moving up the North Sea as though to join the Home +Division. All these movements are quite unusual." + +"What do you make of them then?" Duncombe asked. + +"I scarcely know," Lord Runton answered. "But I can tell you this. There +have been three Cabinet Councils this week, and there is a curious air +of apprehension in official circles in town, as though something were +about to happen. The service clubs are almost deserted, and I know for a +fact that all leave in the navy has been suspended. What I don't +understand is the silence everywhere. It looks to me as though there +were really going to be trouble. The Baltic Fleet sailed this morning, +you know." + +Duncombe nodded. + +"But," he said, "even if they were ill disposed to us, as no doubt +Russia is just now, what could they do? One squadron of our fleet could +send them to the bottom." + +"No doubt," Lord Runton answered. "But supposing they found an ally?" + +"France will never go to war with us for Russia's benefit," Duncombe +declared. + +"Granted," Lord Runton answered, "but have you watched Germany's +attitude lately?" + +"I can't say that I have," Duncombe admitted, "but I should never look +upon Germany as a war-seeking nation." + +"No, I dare say not," Lord Runton answered. "Nor would a great many +other people. Every one is willing to admit that she would like our +Colonies, but no one will believe that she has the courage to strike a +blow for them. I will tell you what I believe, Duncombe. I believe that +no Great Power has ever before been in so dangerous a position as we are +in to-day." + +Duncombe sat up in his chair. The weariness passed from his face, and he +was distinctly interested. Lord Runton, without being an ardent +politician, was a man of common-sense, and was closely connected with +more than one member of the Cabinet. + +"Are you serious, Runton?" he asked. + +"Absolutely! Remember, I was in Berlin for two years, and I had many +opportunities of gaining an insight into affairs there. What I can see +coming now I have expected for years. There are two great factors which +make for war. One is the character of the Emperor himself, and the other +the inevitable rot, which must creep like a disease into a great army +kept always upon a war footing, through a decade or more of inactivity. +The Emperor is shrewd enough to see this. Nothing can possibly exist at +its best which is not used for the purpose to which it owes its +existence. That is why we have this flood of literature just now telling +us of the gross abuses and general rottenness of the German army. +Another five years of idleness, and Germany's position as the first +military nation will have passed away. Like every other great power, it +is rusting for want of use. The Emperor knows this." + +Duncombe for many reasons was fascinated by his friend's quiet words. +Apart from their obvious plausibility, they brought with them many +startling suggestions. Had chance, he wondered, really made Phyllis +Poynton and her brother pawns in the great game? He felt himself stirred +to a rare emotion by the flood of possibilities which swept in suddenly +upon him. Lord Runton noted with surprise the signs of growing +excitement in his listener. + +"Go on, Runton. Anything else?" + +Lord Runton helped himself to a cigarette, and leaned across to light +it. + +"Of course," he continued, "I know that there are a great many people +who firmly believe that for commercial reasons Germany would never seek +a quarrel with us. I will agree with them so far as to say that I do not +believe that a war with England would be popular amongst the bourgeois +of Germany. On the other hand, they would be quite powerless to prevent +it. The Emperor and his ministers have the affair in their own hands. A +slight break in our diplomatic relations, some trifle seized hold of by +the Press and magnified at once into an insult, and the war torch is +kindled. To-day war does not come about by the slowly growing desire of +nations. The threads of fate are in the hands of a few diplomatists at +Berlin and London--a turn of the wrist, and there is tension which a +breath can turn either way. You ask me why the Emperor should choose +England for attack. There are many reasons: first, because England alone +could repay him for the struggle; secondly, because he is intensely and +miserably jealous of our own King, who has avoided all his own +hot-headed errors, and has yet played a great and individual part in the +world's affairs; thirdly, because England is most easily attacked. I +could give you other reasons if you wanted them." + +"Quite enough," Duncombe answered. "What do you suppose would be the +_casus belli_?" + +"The progress of the Russian fleet through English waters," Lord Runton +answered promptly. "Russia's interest in such a misunderstanding would +be, of course, immense. She has only to fire on an English ship, by +mistake of course, and the whole fat would be in the fire. England +probably would insist upon the squadron being detained, Germany would +protest against any such action. We might very well be at war with +Russia and Germany within ten days. Russia would immediately either make +terms with Japan, or abandon any active operations in Manchuria and move +upon India. Germany would come for us." + +"Is this all purely imagination?" Duncombe asked, "or have you anything +to go on?" + +"So far as I am concerned," Lord Runton said slowly, "I, of course, know +nothing. But I have a strong idea that the Government have at least a +suspicion of some secret understanding between Russia and Germany. Their +preparations seem almost to suggest it. Of course we outsiders can only +guess, after all, at what is going on, but it seems to me that there is +a chance to-day for our Government to achieve a diplomatic _coup_." + +"In what direction?" + +"An alliance with France. Mind, I am afraid that there are +insurmountable obstacles, but if it were possible it would be checkmate +to our friend the Emperor, and he would have nothing left but to climb +down. The trouble is that in the absence of any definite proof of an +understanding between Russia and Germany, France could not break away +from her alliance with the former. Our present arrangement would ensure, +I believe, a benevolent neutrality, but an alliance, if only it could be +compassed, would be the greatest diplomatic triumph of our days. Hullo! +Visitors at this hour. Wasn't that your front-door bell, Duncombe?" + +"It sounded like it," Duncombe answered. "Perhaps it is your man." + +"Like his cheek, if it is!" Lord Runton answered, rising to his feet and +strolling towards the sideboard. "I told him I would telephone round to +the stables when I was ready. I suppose it is rather late, though I +sha'n't apologize for keeping you up." + +"I hope you won't," Duncombe answered. "I have never been more +interested in my life--for many reasons. Don't bother about your man. +Groves will see to him. Help yourself to another whisky and soda, and +come and sit down." + +There was a knock at the door, and the butler appeared. + +"There are three gentlemen outside, sir, who wish to see you," he +announced to Duncombe. "They will not give their names, but they say +that their business is important, or they would not have troubled you so +late." + +Duncombe glanced at the clock. It was past midnight. + +"Three gentlemen," he repeated, "at this time of night. But where on +earth have they come from, Groves?" + +"They did not say, sir," the man answered. "One of them I should judge +to be a foreigner. They have a motor car outside." + +Lord Runton held out his hand. + +"Well, it's time I was off, anyhow," he remarked. "Come over and have +lunch to-morrow. Don't bother about me. I'll stroll round to the stables +and start from there. Good night." + +Duncombe hesitated. He was on the point of asking his friend to stay, +but before he could make up his mind Runton had lit a cigarette and +strolled away. + +"You can show the gentlemen in here, Groves," Duncombe said. + +"Very good, sir." + +The man disappeared. Duncombe, after a moment's hesitation, crossed the +room, and opening an oak cupboard, slipped a small revolver into his +pocket. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ARRESTED! + + +One of his three visitors Duncombe recognized immediately. It was +Monsieur Louis. Of the other two one was a Frenchman, a somewhat +sombre-looking person, in a black beard and gold-rimmed eyeglasses, the +other as unmistakably an Englishman of the lower middle class. His broad +shoulders and somewhat stiff bearing seemed to suggest some sort of +drill. Looking them over, Duncombe found himself instinctively wondering +whether the personal strength of these two, which was obvious, might +become a factor in the coming interview. + +The Baron naturally was spokesman. He bowed very gravely to Duncombe, +and did not offer his hand. + +"I must apologize, Sir George," he said, "for disturbing you at such an +inopportune hour. Our business, however, made it necessary for us to +reach you with as little delay as possible." + +"Perhaps you will be good enough to explain," Duncombe answered, "what +that business is." + +The Baron raised his hands with a little protesting gesture. + +"I regret to tell you, Sir George," he announced, "that it is of a most +unpleasant nature. I could wish that its execution had fallen into other +hands. My companions are Monsieur Ridalle, of the French detective +service, and our other friend here, whom I do not know, is a constable +from the Norwich Police Court. My own connections with the police +service of my country you have already, without doubt, surmised." + +"Go on," Duncombe said. + +"I regret to say," Monsieur Louis continued, "that my friends here are +in charge of a warrant for your arrest. You will find them possessed of +all the legal documents, French and English. We shall have to ask you to +come to Norwich with us to-night." + +"Arrest!" Duncombe repeated. "On what charge?" + +"An extremely serious one," the Baron answered gravely. "The charge of +murder!" + +Duncombe stared at him in amazement. + +"Murder!" he repeated. "What rubbish!" + +"The murder of Mademoiselle de Mermillon in her lodging on the night of +the seventh of June last," the Baron said gravely. "Please do not make +any remarks before these men. The evidence against you is already +sufficiently strong." + +Duncombe laughed derisively. + +"What sort of a puppet show is this?" he exclaimed. "You know as well as +any man living how that poor girl came to her end. This is a cover for +something else, of course. What do you want of me? Let's get at it +without wasting time." + +"What we want of you is, I am afraid, only too simple," the Baron +answered, shrugging his shoulders. "We must ask you to accompany us at +once to Norwich Castle. You will have to appear before the magistrates +in the morning, when they will sign the extradition warrant. Our friend +here, Monsieur Ridalle, will then take charge of you. Perhaps you would +like to look through the documents. You will find them all in perfect +order." + +Duncombe mechanically glanced through the French and English papers +which were spread out before him. They had certainly a most +uncomfortable appearance of being genuine. He began to feel a little +bewildered. + +"You mean to say that you have come here to arrest me on this charge? +That you want me to go away with you to-night?" he asked. + +"It is not a matter of wanting you to come," the Baron answered coldly. +"It is a matter of necessity." + +Duncombe moved towards the fireplace. + +"Will you allow me the privilege of a few moments' conversation with you +in private?" he said to the Baron. "Your companions will perhaps excuse +you for a moment." + +The Baron followed without remark. They stood facing one another upon +the hearthrug. Duncombe leaned one elbow upon the mantlepiece, and +turned towards his companion. + +"Look here," he said, "those papers seem genuine enough, and if you +insist upon it I will go with you to Norwich. I shall take care not to +let you out of my sight, and if when we get there I find that this is +any part of one of your confounded conspiracies you will find that the +penalties for this sort of thing in England are pretty severe. However, +no doubt you are well aware of that. The question is this. What do you +really want from me?" + +Monsieur Louis, who had lit a cigarette, withdrew it from his mouth and +examined the lighted end for a moment in silence. + +"The documents," he said, "are genuine. You are arraigned in perfectly +legal fashion. Upon the affidavits there the magistrates must grant the +extradition warrant without hesitation. We have nothing to fear in that +direction." + +"The police," Duncombe remarked, "are perfectly aware of my innocence." + +Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. + +"The evidence," he said, "is remarkably convincing." + +"Police-concocted evidence," Duncombe remarked, "would necessarily be +so. I admit that you hold a strong card against me. I don't believe, +however, that you have gone to all this trouble without some ulterior +motive. What is it? What can I offer you in exchange for these +documents?" + +Monsieur Louis smiled. + +"You are a man of common-sense, Sir George," he said. "I will speak to +you without reserve. It is possible that you might be able to offer the +Government department of my country to which I am attached an inducement +to interest themselves in your behalf. Mind, I am not sure. But if my +information is correct there is certainly a possibility." + +"The Government department of your country to which you are attached," +Duncombe repeated thoughtfully. "Let me understand you. You mean the +secret service police?" + +Monsieur Louis glanced a little nervously over his shoulder. + +"Never mind what I mean, Sir George," he said quickly. "There are things +which we do not speak of openly. This much is sufficient. I represent a +power which can influence and direct even the criminal courts of justice +of France." + +"What bribe have I to offer you?" Duncombe asked. "Information? You know +more than I do. I am afraid you have been misled." + +"I think not," Monsieur Louis said quickly. "I will tell you what we +want. A paper was left in your charge by Miss Phyllis Poynton at the +time she was visiting at Runton Place." + +"What of it?" Duncombe asked. + +The Frenchman's face was suddenly tense with excitement. He recovered +himself almost at once, but his voice shook, and a new earnestness found +its way into his manner. + +"Miss Poynton and her brother are with us," he said. "It is we who have +been their benefactors. You know a good deal of their peculiar +circumstances. A sudden need has arisen for the production of that paper +within twenty-four hours. Give it to me now, and I will run the greatest +risk I have ever run in my career. I will tear those warrants through." + +"Have you any authority from Miss Poynton?" Duncombe asked. + +"There was no time to procure it," Monsieur Louis explained. "Events +march rapidly to-day. To be effective that paper must be in Paris +to-morrow. The necessity for its production arose only a few hours ago." + +"You ask me, then," Duncombe said slowly, "to hand over to you a paper +which was placed in my charge by Miss Poynton?" + +"In effect--yes!" + +"I cannot do it!" + +Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders. + +"I do not insist," he remarked. "I may be permitted to remind you, +however, that I have offered a great price." + +"Perhaps!" Duncombe answered quietly. + +Monsieur Louis turned to his assistants. + +"Sir George Duncombe will accompany us," he said. "I can give you ten +minutes, Sir George," he added, "in case you care to change your +clothes." + +"And supposing I refuse to come?" Duncombe asked. + +Monsieur Louis smiled. + +"You would scarcely be so foolish," he remarked. "In that case I should +send the policeman here to the nearest station with the warrants and a +demand for help. Our documents are in perfect order, and our case +complete. You would scarcely be so foolish, I think, as to set yourself +in direct opposition to the law!" + +Duncombe was silent for several moments. Then he rang the bell. Monsieur +Louis looked at him inquiringly, but before he could frame a question +the butler was in the room. + +"Pack my things for a week, Groves," Duncombe ordered. "I am going away +to-night." + +The man bowed and withdrew. Monsieur Louis merely shrugged his +shoulders. + +"A week!" he remarked. "You will be fortunate if you ever see your home +again. Come, Sir George, be reasonable! I give you my word of honor that +it is altogether to the interest of Miss Poynton that those papers be +immediately produced. If she were here herself she would place them in +my hands without a moment's hesitation." + +"Possibly!" Duncombe answered. "Suppositions, however, do not interest +me. I undertook the charge of what she gave me, and I shall fulfil my +trust." + +Monsieur Louis turned to the policeman. + +"Officer," he said, "this is Sir George Duncombe. Do your duty." + +The man stepped forward and laid his hand upon Sir George's shoulder. + +"Very sorry, sir," he said. "I am forced to arrest you on this warrant +for the murder of Florence Mermillon on the night of the seventh of +June. You will be brought before the magistrates at Norwich to-morrow." + +Duncombe waved his hand towards the sideboard. + +"If you gentlemen," he remarked, "would care for a little refreshment +before you start?" + +"It is against the rules, sir, thank you," the man answered. "I should +be glad to get away as soon as possible." + +Duncombe filled both his pockets with cigars and cigarettes. Then he +turned towards the door. + +"I am quite ready," he said. + +They followed him out. There was a few minutes' delay waiting for +Duncombe's bag. + +"Your address, Sir George?" Groves inquired, as he brought it down. + +"A little doubtful," Duncombe answered. "I will wire." + +"In front, please, Sir George," Monsieur Louis insisted. + +So they drove off, Duncombe in the front seat, the other three behind. +The car gathered speed rapidly. In less than an hour they were half-way +to Norwich. Then suddenly the driver took a sharp corner and turned down +a long desolate lane. + +"You're off the main road," Duncombe explained. "You should have kept +straight on for Norwich." + +The man took no notice. He even increased his speed. Duncombe was in the +act of turning round when he felt the sudden swish of a wet cloth upon +his face. He tried to break away, but he was held from behind as in a +vise. Then his head fell back, and he remembered no more. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS + + +At three o'clock in the morning Groves, in a discarded dressing-gown of +his master's, opened the front door and peered cautiously out into the +darkness. Monsieur Louis, who was standing upon the door-step, pushed +past him into the hall. + +"Your master has sent me back to fetch some papers," he announced, +displaying a bunch of keys. "I am sorry to disturb you like this, but +the matter is important. Please bring me a cup of coffee into the +library in half an hour." + +Groves, who was sorely perplexed, stood with his back to the door which +Monsieur Louis had approached. + +"Really, sir," he answered, "I scarcely know what to say. I am afraid +that I cannot allow you to interfere with any of my master's property in +his absence." + +Monsieur Louis held out the keys. + +"Quite right!" he said. "It is an awkward situation, of course. Your +master did not tell you the reason of his sudden departure, I suppose?" + +"Not a word, sir." + +"There can be no harm in telling you this much, at any rate," Monsieur +Louis continued smoothly. "Your master, through no fault of his own, got +mixed up in a very unpleasant affair in Paris, and he will have to +appear in the courts there. I am his friend, and wish to do all that I +can to help him. We have been talking the matter over, and I have +strongly advised him to produce some papers which I think will help him +materially. The police officer in whose charge he is would not allow him +to return, so he handed me his keys and asked me to fetch them. I can +assure you that I am your master's friend, and wish to do all that I can +to help him. If he had not trusted me he would not have given me his +keys, which no doubt you recognize." + +Groves reluctantly stood on one side. + +"I suppose I must let you in, sir," he said, "but I wish that the master +had sent me a line." + +"We had neither pencil nor paper," Monsieur Louis said, "and the affair +was urgent. I must be back in Norwich by eight o'clock." + +"I will prepare the coffee, sir," Groves said, turning away. "If you +require more light the switches are behind the door." + +"Very good," Monsieur Louis said. "You need not have the slightest +anxiety. I am here on your master's behalf." + +Groves hesitated, and looked for a moment curiously around the room. He +seemed as though he had something else to say, but checked himself at +the last moment and withdrew. Monsieur Louis drew a little breath of +relief. + +He did not immediately proceed to work. He threw off his overcoat and +lit a cigarette. His fingers were steady enough, but he was conscious of +an unwonted sense of excitement. He was face to face with destiny. He +had played before for great stakes, but never such as these. A single +false step, an evil turn in the wheel of fortune, spelt death--and he +was afraid to die. He moved to the sideboard. Everything there was as +they had left it. He poured out some brandy and drank it off. + +With fresh courage he moved to the safe, which stood in the corner of +the room. It must be there, if anywhere, that this precious document +lay. He tried his keys one by one. At last he found the right one. The +great door swung slowly open. + +He was spared all anxiety. There, on the top of a pile of legal-looking +documents, leases, title-deeds, and the like, was a long envelope, and +across it in Duncombe's sprawling writing these few words:-- + + "Entrusted to me by Miss Poynton.--Sept. 4th." + +He grasped it in his fingers and tore open the envelope. As he read the +single page of closely written writing his eyes seemed almost to +protrude. He gave a little gasp. No wonder there were those who reckoned +this single page of manuscript worth a great fortune. Every sentence, +every word told its own story. It was a page of the world's history. + +Then a strange thing happened. Some part of him rebelled against the +instinct which prompted him carefully to fold and place in his +breast-pocket this wonderful find of his. His nerves seemed suddenly +frozen in his body. There was a curious numb sensation at the back of +his neck which forbade him to turn round. His hands shook, his teeth +chattered. The sweat of death was upon his forehead and despair in his +heart. He had heard nothing, seen nothing; yet he knew that he was no +longer alone. + +When at last he turned round he turned his whole body. The muscles of +his neck were numbed still his knees shook, and his face was ghastly. +Monsieur Louis of the Cafe Montmartre, brave of tongue and gallant of +bearing, had suddenly collapsed. Monsieur Louis, the drug-sodden +degenerate of a family whose nobles had made gay the scaffolds of the +Place de la Republique, cowered in his place. + +It was the worst upon which he looked with chattering teeth, but without +surprise. The door of the inner room was open, and upon the threshold +stood Toquet, small, dark, and saturnine--Toquet, with something which +glittered in his hand, so that Monsieur Louis, already the prey of a +diseased and ghastly imagination, felt the pain of the bullet in his +heart. On an easy-chair by the fireside Henri de Bergillac was lounging, +with a queer smile upon his lips. + +"My friend," he said quietly, though the scorn which underlay his words +seemed to bite the air, "you have solved for us a double problem: first, +how to account for the absence of our host; and secondly, how to open +that very formidable-looking safe. You will be so good as to place upon +the table that document which you hold in your hands." + +For a single second Monsieur Louis hesitated. Some lingering vestige of +a courage, purely hereditary, showed him in one lightning-like flash how +at least he might carry with him to a swift grave some vestige of his +ruined self-respect. A traitor to his old friends, he might keep faith +with the new. He had time to destroy. Even the agonies of death might +last long enough to complete the task. But the impulse was only +momentary. He shuddered afresh at the thought that he might have yielded +to it. He threw it upon the table. + +The Vicomte rose to his feet, glanced through the closely written page +with something of the same excitement which had inspired its recent +possessor, and carefully buttoned it up in his breast-pocket. Then he +turned once more to the man who stood before them broken and trembling. + +"Louis," he said, "you are the first traitor whom our society has +hatched. I look upon you with curiosity as a thing I once called my +friend. What imbecility prompted you to this?" + +Monsieur Louis found nerve to shrug his shoulders. + +"A million francs!" he answered. + +"Heavens, but what folly!" the Vicomte murmured. "Did we not all know +that a German was in Paris who offered a million, or two million francs +for the missing page of that treaty? Do you think that he was not +watched day and night? Bah! I have no patience to talk of this. What +have you done with our host?" + +"Arrested him for--Flossie! He is in a ditch half-way to Norwich." + +"Hurt?" + +"No! Chloroformed." + +"How did you get here?" + +"In an automobile from Lynn!" + +"Good! It waits for you?" + +"Yes." + +"We will take it. My good friend here, Toquet, is familiar with the +neighborhood. As Mr. Fielding, the American millionaire, you learned the +excellence of these roads for quick travelling, did you not, _mon ami_? +So!" + +"You leave me here?" Monsieur Louis faltered. + +"Ay, to rot if you will!" the Vicomte answered with sudden harshness. + +"I will atone," Monsieur Louis faltered. "It was a single false step." + +De Bergillac looked down upon him with unspeakable contempt. + +"Atone! Listen, Louis! In this country you are safe. Crawl away into +some hiding-place and make what you will of the rest of your days, but I +will promise you this. If ever you set your feet upon one inch of France +you shall meet with your deserts. There are many things which those who +play the great game must pardon, but there is one crime for which no +atonement is possible, and you have committed it. You are a traitor!" + +De Bergillac turned away. The effeminacy of his manner seemed to have +disappeared under the strain of his extreme anger. It was his race, +after all, which had asserted itself. And then the door was thrown +suddenly open and a wild-looking figure confronted them. + +It was Duncombe, muddy from head to foot, pale and with a slight wound +upon the temple, from which the blood had trickled down his face. He saw +the open safe, and Monsieur Louis a pitiful figure, and he did not +hesitate. He scarcely glanced at the others. He strode forward and +seized the Baron by the collar. + +"Give me back what you have stolen, you blackguard!" he exclaimed. + +Monsieur Louis was breathless. It was the young Vicomte who interposed. + +"Our friend," he remarked suavely, "has not been successful in his +little effort. The document he came to purloin is in my pocket, and +here, Sir George, is my warrant for retaining possession of it." + +He held out a note which Duncombe took and read with a little sigh of +relief. + +"Good!" he exclaimed. "You have the document?" + +De Bergillac tapped his breast-pocket. + +"It is here," he said. + +Duncombe turned to Monsieur Louis. + +"My arrest, then," he remarked, "was part of the game?" + +"Exactly!" De Bergillac answered. "This little document entrusted to +your care by the young English lady was worth one million francs to the +man who suborned our friend here. It was worth while--this little +enterprise. The pity of it is that it has failed. Sir George, I go to +Paris to-night. I offer you a safe conduct if you care to accompany me. +_L'affaire Poynton_ does not exist any more." + +"Can you give me ten minutes to change my clothes?" Duncombe asked +eagerly. + +"No more," De Bergillac answered. "I will get rid of our friend here." + +There was a knock at the door. Groves entered with coffee. At the sight +of his master he nearly dropped the tray. + +"It's all right," Duncombe said, smiling. "We had a little spill, and +I've lost my bag. Pack me some more things quickly." + +"Very good, sir," Groves answered, and withdrew precipitately. + +De Bergillac laid his hand upon Duncombe's arm. + +"There is only one thing, my friend," he said. "I trust that it is Mr. +Guy Poynton who is your friend, and not his beautiful sister? Eh? I am +answered! The misfortune! Never mind! I will drink my coffee to _les +beaux yeux des autres_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE MAKING OF HISTORY + + +Three men were the sole occupants of the great room whose windows looked +out upon the Louvre. + +The table around which they were seated was strewn with papers and maps. +The door of the room was locked, and a sentry stood outside in the +passage. The three men were busy making history. + +The man who occupied the seat at the head of the table was the Monsieur +Grisson to whom Guy Poynton, at the instigation of the Duc de Bergillac, +had told his story. It was he who was spokesman. + +"The situation," he said, "is one which bristles with difficulties. We +will assume for a moment the truth of what we have certainly reasonable +ground to believe. Russia has shown every sign of disappointment with us +for our general attitude during the war. Our understanding with England +has provoked a vigorous though unofficial protest from her +representatives here. Since then our relations have become to a certain +extent strained. Germany, ever on the look-out for complications which +might lead to her own advantage, steps in. Her attitude towards Russia +is changed to one of open and profound sympathy. Russia, in her +desperate straits, rises like a starving fish to a fat fly. Here it is +that our secret service steps in." + +"Our secret service--and her allies," one of the other men murmured. + +"Exactly! We pass now to the consideration of facts which need one thing +only to justify our course of action. Evidence is brought to us that a +secret meeting took place between the Czar of Russia and the Emperor of +Germany. From all the information which we have collected that meeting +was possible. I personally believe that it took place. A treaty is said +to have been drawn up between them, having for its object the +embroilment of England with Russia, and an alliance of Germany with +Russia so far as regards her quarrel with England. We know that Germany +is secretly mobilizing men and ships. We know that the ambition of the +Emperor is to possess himself of the Colonies of Great Britain, if not +actually to hold his court in London. We know that his jealousy of King +Edward amounts to a disease. We know that he is a man of daring and +violent temper, with an indomitable will and an unflinching belief in +his own infallibility and the infallibility of his army and navy. We +know that he has at least a dozen schemes for a sudden attack upon +England, and mighty though the navy of Great Britain is, it is not in +our opinion strong enough to protect her shore from the combined Baltic +and German fleets and also protect her Colonies. England, through our +friendship, has been warned. She proposes with most flattering alacrity +the only possible counter-stroke--an alliance with ourselves. We must +decide within twelve hours. The treaty lies upon my desk there. Upon us +must rest the most momentous decision which any Frenchman within our +recollection has been called upon to make. What have you to say, +gentlemen?" + +There was a short silence. Then the man who sat at Monsieur Grisson's +right hand spoke. + +"The issues before us," he said slowly, "are appalling. Every +Frenchman's blood must boil at the thought of Germany greedily helping +herself to the mighty wealth and power of Great Britain--becoming by +this single master-stroke the strongest nation on earth, able to dictate +even to us, and to send her word unchallenged throughout the world. It +is a hideous picture! It must mean the abandonment forever of the hope +of every true Frenchman. Every minute will become a menace to us. +Wilhelm, the arrogant, with British gold and British ships at his back, +will never forget to flaunt himself before us to our eternal +humiliation." + +"You are taking it for granted," his neighbor remarked, "that Germany +will be successful." + +"The odds are in her favor," was the quiet reply. "The navy of Great +Britain is immense, but her sea front, so to speak, is enormous. She is +open to be the prey of a sudden swift attack, and the moment has never +been more favorable." + +"Let all these things be granted," the third man said. "Even then, are +we free to enter into this alliance with England? Our treaty with Russia +remains. We have no proof that she has broken faith with us. If this +secret treaty between Russia and Germany really exists, it is, of +course, another matter. But does it? We have nothing but the word of an +English boy. The rest is all assumption. The whole affair might be a +nightmare. We might sign this treaty with England, and find afterwards +that we had been the victim of a trick. We should be perjured before the +face of all Europe, and our great financial interest in Russia would at +once be placed in a perilous position." + +A telephone upon the table rang softly. Monsieur Grisson held the +receiver to his ear and listened. Then he rose to his feet. + +"Count von Munchen desires a word with me," he announced. "He pledges +himself not to keep me more than five minutes. I had better receive him. +Excuse me, gentlemen." + +The two men were left alone. The elder and stouter of the two busied +himself with an inch rule and an atlas. He seemed to be making +calculations as to the distance between Cherbourg and a certain spot in +the North Sea. + +"What is the chief's own mind?" his companion asked. "Does any one +know?" + +The other shook his head. + +"Who can say? Our ties of friendship with England are too recent to make +this a matter of sentiment. I believe that without proof he fears to +accept this statement. And yet above all things he fears Germany. There +was some talk of a missing page of the actual treaty between Russia and +Germany. If this could be found I believe that he would sign the draft +treaty." + +"I myself," the other said, "do not believe that England would be so +easily overpowered." + +"It is the suddenness and treachery of the attack which counts so +greatly in its favor," his companion said. "It might be all over in two +days before she could assemble a fifth part of her forces. If our +information is correct Germany has men enough mobilized to run huge +risks. Besides, you know how Lafarge's report ran, and what he said. The +German army is beginning to suffer from a sort of dry rot, as must all +institutions which fulfil a different purpose than that for which they +exist. The Emperor knows it. If war does not come Germany will have to +face severe military troubles." + +"I myself am for the alliance!" + +"And I," the other replied, "if proof of this Germano-Russian +understanding could be produced." + +Monsieur Grisson returned. He carefully closed and locked the door +behind him. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "the German Ambassador has just left me. His +mission in every way confirms our secret information. He has been +instructed to inquire as to our attitude in the event of any British +interference with the Baltic Fleet while in home waters." + +The two men looked up expectantly. Monsieur Grisson continued:-- + +"I replied that it was a contingency which we scarcely thought it worth +while to consider. I expressed my firm belief that England would observe +all the conventions, written and understood, of international law." + +"And he?" + +"He was not satisfied, of course. He declared that he had certain +information that England was making definite plans with a view to ensure +the delay of the fleet. He went on to say that Germany was determined +not to tolerate any such thing, and he concludes that we, as Russia's +ally, would at any rate remain neutral should Germany think it her duty +to interfere." + +"And your reply?" + +"I answered that in the event of untoward happenings France would act as +her honor dictated--remaining always mindful of the obligations of her +alliance. He was quite satisfied." + +"He had no suspicion of this?" the young man asked, touching the treaty +with his forefinger. + +"None. It is believed in Germany that the young Englishman was really +found drowned in the Seine after a short career of dissipation. Our +friends served us well here. Now, gentlemen, the English Ambassador will +be here in twenty minutes. What am I to say to him? Do we sign this +draft agreement or do we not?" + +There was a silence which lasted nearly a minute. Then the younger of +the two men spoke. + +"Sir," he said respectfully, "without some proof of Russia's falsity I +cannot see how in honor we can depart from our treaty obligations with +her to the extent of signing an agreement with her putative enemy. +England must fight her own battle, and God help her!" + +"And you?" Monsieur Grisson asked, turning to the third man. + +"I agree," was the regretful answer. "If this treacherous scheme is +carried out I believe that France will be face to face with the greatest +crisis she has known in history. Even then I dare not suggest that we +court dishonor by breaking an alliance with a friend in distress." + +"You are right, gentlemen," Monsieur Grisson said with a sigh. "We must +tell Lord Fothergill that our relations with his country must remain +unfettered. I----" + +Again the telephone bell rang. Monsieur Grisson listened, and replied +with a sudden return to his old briskness of manner. + +"It is young De Bergillac," he announced. "He has been in England in +search of that missing page of the treaty. I have told them to show him +in." + +The Vicomte entered, paler than ever from recent travel, and deeply +humiliated from the fact that there was a smut upon his collar which he +had had no time to remove. He presented a paper to Monsieur Grisson and +bowed. The President spread it out upon the table, and the faces of the +three men as they read became a study. Monsieur Grisson rang the bell. + +"Monsieur le Duc de Bergillac and a young English gentleman," he told +the attendant, "are in my private retiring-room. Desire their presence." + +The servant withdrew. The three men looked at one another. + +"If this is genuine!" the younger murmured. + +"It is the Russian official paper," his _vis-a-vis_ declared, holding it +up to the light. + +Then the Duc de Bergillac and Guy Poynton were ushered in. Monsieur +Grisson rose to his feet. + +"Monsieur Poynton," he said, "we have all three heard your story as to +what you witnessed in the forest of Pozen. It is part of your allegation +that a page of writing from the private car which you were watching was +blown to your feet, and that you picked it up and brought it to Paris +with you. Look at this sheet of paper carefully. Tell me if it is the +one." + +Guy glanced at it for a moment, and handed it back. + +"It is certainly the one," he answered. "If you look at the back you +will see my initials there and the date." + +Monsieur Grisson turned it over quickly. The two other men looked over +his shoulder, and one of them gave a little exclamation. The initials +and date were there. + +Then Monsieur Grisson turned once more to Guy. He was not a tall man, +but he had dignity, and his presence was impressive. He spoke very +slowly. + +"Monsieur Guy Poynton," he said, "it is not often that so great an +issue--that the very destinies of two great countries must rest upon the +simple and uncorroborated story of one man. Yet that is the position in +which we stand to-day. Do not think that you are being treated with +distrust. I speak to you not on behalf of myself, but for the millions +of human beings whose welfare is my care, and for those other millions +of your own countrymen, whose interests must be yours. I ask you +solemnly--is this story of yours word for word a true one?" + +Guy looked him in the face resolutely, and answered without hesitation. + +"On my honor as an Englishman," he declared, "it is true!" + +Monsieur Grisson held out his hand. + +"Thank you!" he said. + +The three men were again alone. The man who controlled the destinies of +France dipped his pen in the ink. + +"Gentlemen," he said, "do you agree with me that I shall sign this +draft?" + +"We do!" they both answered. + +The President signed his name. Then he turned the handle of the +telephone. + +"You may show Lord Fothergill in!" he ordered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AN OLD FRIEND + + +It was perhaps as well for Andrew Pelham that he could not see Phyllis' +look as she entered the room. An English gentleman, she had been told, +was waiting to see her, and she had thought of no one but Duncombe. It +was true that she had sent him away, but only an hour ago the Marquise +had told her that her emancipation was close at hand. He too might have +had a hint! The little smile, however, died away from her lips as she +saw who was waiting for her with such manifest impatience. + +"You, Andrew!" she exclaimed in amazement. "Why, however did you find me +out?" + +He took both her hands in his. The look upon his face was transfiguring. + +"At last! At last!" he exclaimed. "Never mind how I found you! Tell me, +what does it all mean? Are you here of your own free will?" + +"Absolutely!" she answered. + +"It was you at Runton?" + +"Yes." + +"Under a false name--with a man who committed robbery!" + +She shrugged her shoulders a little wearily. + +"My dear Andrew!" she said, "I will admit that I have been doing all +manner of incomprehensible things. I couldn't explain everything. It +would take too long. What I did, I did for Guy's sake, and of my own +free will. It will be all over in a day or two now, and we shall be +coming back to Raynesworth. Then I will tell you tales of our adventures +which will make your hair stand on end." + +"It isn't true about Guy, then?" he exclaimed. + +She hesitated for a moment. + +"Andrew," she said, "I cannot tell you anything. It must sound rather +horrid of me, but I cannot help it. I want you to go away. In a day or +two I will write." + +He looked at her in pained bewilderment. + +"But, Phyllis," he protested, "I am one of your oldest friends! You ask +me to go away and leave you here with strangers, without a word of +explanation. Why, I have been weeks searching for you." + +"Andrew," she said, "I know it. I don't want to be unkind. I don't want +you to think that I have forgotten that you are, as you say, one of my +oldest friends. But there are times when one's friends are a source of +danger rather than pleasure. Frankly, this is one of them." + +His face darkened. He looked slowly around the magnificent room. He saw +little, but what he could distinguish was impressive. + +"Your riddles," he said gravely, "are hard to read. You want me to go +away and leave you here." + +"You must," she said firmly. + +"Did you treat Duncombe like this?" he asked in a blind fit of jealousy. + +"You have not the right to ask me such a question," she answered +coldly. + +"Not the right! Not the right!" he repeated. "Who else has, then? +Haven't I watched you grow from a beautiful, capricious child into the +woman you are? Haven't I taught you, played with you, done your bidding +blindly ever since you came into your kingdom? Haven't I felt the pain +and the joy of you in my heart? Who else has a better right, then? +Duncombe, who came here, a stranger to you--or is it one of your new +friends?" + +She came close to him, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. + +"Don't be foolish, Andrew!" she said softly. + +His whole expression changed. The bitterness left his tone. + +"Ah, Phyllis!" he said. "That is more like yourself." + +"And I want you," she said, "to be like your old self. You have always +been my best friend, Andrew. I hope you will always be that." + +He tried to look into her face. It seemed to him that there was a little +unnecessary emphasis in her words. + +"I am not a child now, you know," she continued. "I am quite old enough +to take care of myself. You must believe that, Andrew. You must go away, +and not worry about me. You will do this, please, because I ask you!" + +"If I must," he said reluctantly. "I will go away, but not to worry +about you--that is impossible. You seem to be surrounded by all the +mediaeval terrors which confronted the emancipation of princesses in our +fairy books. Only a short time ago Duncombe implored me to follow his +example, and leave you and Paris alone. The detective whom I brought +with me has been shadowed ever since we left Paris. Last night he left +me for a few hours, and this morning comes a note from the hospital. He +is lying there with the back of his head beaten in--garotters, of +course, the police say, looking for plunder. How can you ask me to be +easy in my mind about you?" + +She smiled reassuringly. + +"No harm will come to me here, I can promise you," she said. "It is you +who run the most risk if you only knew it. Sir George Duncombe gave you +the best advice when he tried to get you to return to England." + +"I cannot leave Lloyd now until he has recovered," Andrew answered. +"Tell me, Phyllis, has Duncombe found you out? Has he been here?" + +"Yes," she answered. "I sent him away--as I am sending you." + +"Has he ever told you," Andrew asked, "why he was willing in the first +instance to come to Paris in search of you?" + +"No," she answered. "Wasn't it because he was your friend?" + +He shook his head. + +"It is his affair, not mine," he said with a sigh. "Ask him some day." + +"You won't tell me, Andrew?" + +"No! I will go now! You know where to send for me if you should need +help. I can find my way down, thank you. I have a guide from the hotel +outside." + +The Marquise swept into the room as he passed out, an impression of +ermine and laces and perfume. + +"Another of your English lovers, _ma belle_?" she asked. + +"Scarcely that," Phyllis answered. "He is a very old friend, and he was +rather hard to get rid of." + +"I think," the Marquise said, "you would get rid of all very willingly +for the sake of one, eh?" + +The Marquise stared insolently into the girl's face. Phyllis only +laughed. + +"One is usually considered the ideal number--in our country," she +remarked demurely. + +"But the one?" the Marquise continued. "He would not be one of these +cold, heavy countrymen of yours, no? You have learnt better perhaps over +here?" + +It was a cross-examination, but Phyllis could not imagine its drift. + +"I have not had very much opportunity over here, have I, to amend my +ideals?" she asked. "I think the only two Frenchmen I have met are the +Marquis and that languid young man with the green tie, the Vicomte de +Bergillac, wasn't it?" + +The Marquise watched her charge closely. + +"Well," she said, "he is _comme il faut_, is he not? You find him more +elegant, more chic than your Englishmen, eh?" + +Phyllis shook her head regretfully. + +"To me," she admitted, "he seemed like an exceedingly precocious spoilt +child!" + +"He is twenty-three," the Marquise declared. + +Phyllis laughed softly. + +"Well," she said, "I do not think that I shall amend my ideals for the +sake of the Vicomte de Bergillac!" + +The Marquise looked at her doubtfully. + +"Tell me, child," she said, "you mean, then, that of the two--your +English Sir George Duncombe and Henri--you would prefer Sir George?" + +Phyllis looked at her with twinkling eyes. + +"You would really like to know?" she asked. + +"Yes!" + +"Sir George Duncombe--infinitely!" + +The Marquise seemed to have recovered her good spirits. + +"Come, little one," she said, "you lose color in the house. I will take +you for a drive!" + + * * * * * + +Andrew, conscious that he was being followed, sat down outside a cafe on +his way homewards, and bade his guide leave him for a little time. +Instantly there was the soft rustle of feminine skirts by his side, and +a woman seated herself on the next chair. + +"Monsieur has not been up to the Cafe Montmartre lately!" + +Pelham turned his head. It was the young lady from Vienna. + +"No!" he answered. "I have not been there since I had the pleasure of +seeing Mademoiselle!" + +"Monsieur has discovered all that he wanted to know?" + +He nodded a little wearily. + +"Yes, I think so!" + +She drew her chair quite close to his. The sable of her turban hat +almost brushed his cheek, and the perfume of the violets at her bosom +was strong in his nostrils. + +"Monsieur has seen the young lady?" + +"I have seen her," he answered. + +"Monsieur is indebted to me," she said softly, "for some information. +Let me ask him one question. Is it true, this story in the newspapers, +of the finding of this young man's body? Is Monsieur Guy Poynton really +dead?" + +"I know no more than we all read in the newspapers," he answered. + +"His sister spoke of him as dead?" she asked. + +"I cannot discuss this matter with you, Mademoiselle," he answered. + +"Monsieur is ungrateful," she declared with a little grimace. "It is +only that which I desire to know. He was such a _beau garcon_, that +young Englishman. You will tell me that?" she whispered. + +He shook his head. + +"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he said. "I am going to take a carriage +to my hotel!" + +"It is on the way to leave me at my rooms, if you will be so kind," she +suggested, laying her hand upon his arm. + +"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he answered, turning away. "Good +afternoon." + +Mademoiselle also took a carriage, and drove to a large house at the top +of the Champs Elysees. She was at once admitted, and passed with the air +of one familiar with the place into a small room at the back of the +house, where a man was sitting at a table writing. He looked up as she +entered. + +"Well?" + +She threw herself into a chair. + +"I have been following the Englishman, Pelham, all day," she said in +German. "He has seen Miss Poynton. I have talked with him since at a +cafe, but he would tell me nothing. He has evidently been warned." + +The man grumbled as he resumed his writing. + +"That fact alone should be enough for us," he remarked. "If there is +anything to conceal we can guess what it is. These amateurs who are in +league with the secret service are the devil! I would as soon resign. +What with them and the regular secret service, Paris is an impossible +city for us. Where we would watch we are watched ourselves. The streets +and cafes bristle with spies! I do not wonder that you find success so +difficult, Mademoiselle!" + +"I haven't done so badly!" she protested. + +"No, for you have not been set easy tasks. Can you tell me, though, +where that young Englishman disappeared to when he left the Cafe +Montmartre before your very eyes? Can you tell me whether the secret +service got hold of his story, how much the French Government believed +of it, whether they have communicated with the English Government, and +how much they know? Beyond these things, it is not your province to see, +or mine, Mademoiselle, and it is not for us to guess at or inquire into +the meaning of things. Tell me, is it worth while to have this man +Pelham put out of the way for a time?" + +She shook her head. + +"I do not think so," she answered. "He is quite stupid. The other, Sir +George Duncombe, he was different. If he had stayed in Paris he would +have been worth watching." + +A bell rang. The man rose. + +"The chief!" he said. "Be at the cafe to-night." + +Mademoiselle went away thoughtfully. + +"It is over this affair," she said to herself. "Carl knows everything!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A NEWSPAPER SENSATION + + +Spencer, whose recovery during the last few days had been as rapid as +the first development of his indisposition, had just changed for dinner, +and was lighting a _cigarette d'appertit_ when, without waiting to be +announced, the Vicomte de Bergillac entered the room. Spencer, with +lightning-like intuition, knew that his time was come. + +"Off with your coat, man, and get your code books out. I am going to +give you the most sensational story which has ever appeared in your +paper!" he exclaimed. "Only, remember this! It must appear to-morrow +morning. I am arranging for the French papers to have it. Yours shall be +the only English journal. Glance through these sheets. They contain the +story of _l'affaire Poynton_!" + +Spencer was master of the gist of the thing in a very few moments. His +eyes were bright with excitement. + +"Who guarantees this?" he asked quickly. + +"My uncle has signed it," Henri de Bergillac answered, "and at the +bottom of the page there you will see a still more distinguished +signature. You understand _l'affaire Poynton_ now? It is very simple. +That English boy actually witnessed a meeting between the Czar and the +Emperor, and turns up in Paris with a loose sheet of a treaty between +the two, relative to an attack upon England. Our people got hold of him +at the Cafe Montmartre, and we have hidden him away ever since. Our +friends, the Germans, who seem to have had some suspicions about him, +have filled the city with spies, but from the first we have kept them +off the scent. We had a little difficulty in convincing our friends your +country-people, but we managed to borrow a few papers from the German +Ambassador whilst he was staying at a country-house in England, which +were sufficient." + +Spencer was already writing. His coat lay on the floor where he had +thrown it. + +"Don't go for a moment, De Bergillac," he said. "I want to ask you a few +things. I can talk and code at the same time. What about Miss Poynton?" + +"Well, we had to take care of her too," De Bergillac said. "Of course +all her inquiries over here would have led to nothing, but they knew her +at the English Embassy, so we walked her off from the Cafe Montmartre +one night and took her to a friend of mine, the Marquise de St. Ethol. +We told her a little of the truth, and a little, I'm afraid, which was +an exaggeration. Anyhow, we kept her quiet, and we got her to go to +England for us with Toquet. They had a very narrow shave down at Runton, +by the by." + +"After this," Spencer said with a smile, "the secret service people +proper will have to look to their laurels. It is a triumph for the +amateurs." + +The Vicomte twirled his tiny black moustache. + +"Yes," he said, "we have justified ourselves. It has cost us something, +though!" + +"You mean?" + +"Louis!" + +Spencer stopped writing. + +"It was an affair of a million francs," the Vicomte said. "I hope he has +got the money." + +Spencer resumed his work. + +"The Baron a traitor!" he exclaimed. "Where is he?" + +"In England! We are not vindictive. If the Germans paid him a million +francs they got nothing for it. He has been watched from the first. We +knew of it the moment he came to terms with them. He only knows bare +facts. Nothing beyond. He is going to Brazil, I think. We shall not +interfere." + +"Tell me why," Spencer said, "you were so down on all of us who joined +in the search for the Poyntons." + +"We could not afford to run any risks of your discovering a clue," De +Bergillac answered, "because you in your turn were closely watched by +German spies, hoping to discover them through you. That is why we had to +strike hard at all of you who interfered. I was sorry for little +Flossie--but she knew the risk she ran. We had to stop you, induce +Duncombe to leave Paris, and knock on the head a fool of an English +detective for fear he might discover something. Monsieur Pelham was +getting into danger, but, of course, it is all over now. To-morrow we +are bringing Guy into Paris." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Where is Duncombe?" he asked. + +"Back in Paris," De Bergillac answered. "Arrived here with me to-day. He +is much in love with the beautiful sister. Alas! It was to him that she +entrusted the missing page of that treaty which she found in her +brother's luggage. Some day I must tell you of my adventures in England +last night, when I went over to get it and found Louis a little ahead of +me." + +"Some day," Spencer murmured, writing for dear life, with the +perspiration streaming down his forehead. "My dear Vicomte, do you mind +ringing the bell? I want my servant. I must telegraph my paper to warn +them of this. They must clear two columns of type for me." + +The Vicomte did as he was asked. Then he turned towards the door. + +"I will leave you," he said. "The dust of England is still in my throat. +Absinthe, a bath and dinner! _Au revoir, mon ami!_ Confess that I have +kept the promise which Louis made you. It is what you call a _coup_ +this, eh?" + +Out on the boulevards the papers were selling like wildfire. The Vicomte +bought one, and sitting down outside a cafe ordered absinthe. The great +headlines attracted him at once. He sipped his absinthe and smiled to +himself. + +"The play commences!" he murmured. "I must return to Monsieur Spencer." + +Spencer was still working like a madman. + +"I must interrupt you for a moment," De Bergillac said. "I have brought +you an evening paper. The Baltic Fleet has sunk half a dozen English +fishing-boats and the whole country is in a frenzy. It is the +beginning." + +Spencer nodded. + +"Leave the paper, there's a good fellow," he said. "I will look it +through presently. If there is time--if there is only time this will be +the greatest night of my life. No other paper has a hint, you say?" + +"Not one!" + +"If I could put back the clock a single hour," Spencer muttered. "Never +mind! Williams, more sheets!" + +De Bergillac took his leave. He had telephoned for his motor, which was +waiting outside. He gave the order to drive to his rooms. On the way he +passed the great pile of buildings in the Louvre. In a room at the +extreme end of the pile a light was burning. De Bergillac looked at it +curiously. A small brougham, which he recognized, stood outside. + +"If one could see inside," he muttered. "It should be interesting!" + + * * * * * + +In a sense it was interesting. Monsieur Grisson sat there in front of +his open table. His secretary's place by his side was vacant. Opposite +sat a tall man with gray hair and dark moustache. He was dressed for the +evening, and his breast glittered with stars and orders. + +"It is exceedingly kind of you, Monsieur," he said, "to grant me this +interview at so short notice. I was most anxious to apprise you of news, +which as yet I believe has not found its way into your papers. You have +read accounts of a Russian attack upon an English fishing-fleet, but you +have not yet been informed of the presence--the undoubted presence--of +Japanese torpedo-boats concealed amongst them." + +Monsieur Grisson raised his eyebrows. + +"Indeed no!" he answered. "We have not even heard a rumor of anything of +the sort." + +"Nevertheless, their presence was indubitable," the Prince declared. "In +those circumstances, Monsieur, you can doubtless understand that our +reply to any protests on the part of England will be of an unpacific +nature. We should not for a moment allow ourselves to be dictated to by +the allies of our enemy." + +"Naturally!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "On the other hand, you surely +do not wish to embroil yourself in a quarrel with England at the present +moment?" + +"We wish to quarrel with no one," the Prince answered haughtily. "At the +same time, we are not afraid of England. We recognize the fact that if +war should come it is an independent affair, and does not come under the +obligations of our alliance. We ask, therefore, for your neutrality +alone." + +Monsieur Grisson bowed. + +"But, Prince," he said gravely, "you speak lightly enough of the +possibilities of war, but surely you must know that the English fleet in +the Channel and at Gibraltar altogether outmatches the Baltic Fleet?" + +"A Russian," the Prince answered grandly, "is not afraid of great odds!" + +Monsieur Grisson bowed. + +"For the sake of humanity," he said, "I trust most sincerely that the +affair may be peaceably arranged. If the contrary should turn out to be +the case, I can only say that in a quarrel which concerns Russia and +England alone, France would remain benevolently neutral. As you have +remarked, the obligations of our treaty do not apply to such a case." + +The Prince played nervously with the star at his chest. Both men were +well aware that up to now they had been merely playing with words. + +"There is another contingency," the Russian remarked, "which, now we are +upon the subject, it would perhaps be as well to allude to. The +relations between Germany and England, as you know, just now are very +sorely strained. If Germany should take advantage of the present +situation to make a demonstration against England, that, of course, +would not, from your point of view, affect the situation?" + +Monsieur Grisson looked like a man who sees before him amazing things. + +"My dear Prince," he said, "do not let us misunderstand one another. You +cannot by any possibility be suggesting that Germany might associate +herself with you in your resistance to possible English demands?" + +The Russian leaned back in his chair. + +"Germany is on the spot," he remarked, "and knows the fact of the case. +She has proofs of the presence of Japanese torpedo-boats amongst the +English fishing-fleet. Her natural love of fair play might possibly lead +her to espouse our cause in this particular instance. This, of course, +would make for peace. If Germany commands, England will obey. She could +not do otherwise." + +"You have introduced, my dear Prince," Monsieur Grisson said, "an +altogether new phase of this question, and one which merits the most +grave consideration. Am I to understand that there is any arrangement +between Germany and yourself with respect to this question?" + +"Scarcely anything so definite as an arrangement," the Prince answered. +"Merely an understanding!" + +Monsieur Grisson had the air of a man who had just received grave +tidings of his dearest friend. + +"Is this, Monsieur le Prince," he said, "entirely in accord with our own +treaty obligations?" + +"We do not consider it to be in contravention to them," the Prince +answered. + +The gravity of Monsieur Grisson's manner grew even more pronounced. + +"My dear Prince," he said, "you are doubtless aware that during the last +few weeks there have been some very strange rumors about as to a meeting +between your master and the Emperor of Germany, and an agreement which +was forthwith signed between them. I need not remark that all such +rumors were entirely discredited here. Such a meeting kept secret from +us would of course be very seriously considered here." + +The Prince smiled. He remained admirably self-possessed, though the very +veins in his forehead were swollen with anger. + +"A canard of the sort has reached my ears," he remarked. "Some English +boy, I believe, imagined or dreamed that he saw some such meeting. We +scarcely need, I think, to discuss this seriously." + +"Personally I agree with you," Monsieur Grisson said smoothly. "My +ministry, however, seem to have been a little impressed by the boy's +story. An autograph letter from the Czar, denying it, would perhaps make +our negotiations more easy." + +"It shall be forthcoming," the Prince remarked, rising. "By the by, I +hear reports of great activity from Cherbourg. More manoeuvres, eh?" + +Monsieur Grisson shrugged his shoulders. + +"Our new naval chief," he remarked, "is a marvel of industry. You know +the English proverb about the new broom, eh?" + +The Prince bowed. + +"During the next few hours," he remarked, "many things may happen. You +will be always accessible?" + +"I shall not leave my post, Prince!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "You +will find me here at any time!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY + + +On the following morning the inhabitants of London, Paris, Berlin, and +St. Petersburg for a sum varying from a halfpenny to a penny were +treated to sensationalism as thrilling as any six-shilling shocker hot +from the press and assured of its half-million circulation. One English +and one French newspaper outdid their competitors by publishing side by +side with their account of the exploits of the Russian fleet a +marvellous but circumstantial story of a meeting and alliance between +the rulers of Germany and Russia. The eyes of the whole world were +turned towards Kiel, and more wonderful rumors still flashed backwards +and forwards along the wires throughout Europe. A great mobilization can +be kept secret up to a certain point, but when men and ships are +collected and ready the truth must out. + +At an unusually early hour Monsieur Grisson, supported now by two +members of his ministry, received a visit from the Russian and German +Ambassadors, Prince Korndoff and Count von Munchen. The usual +compliments were quickly exchanged. + +"I have asked my friend Count von Munchen to accompany me," Prince +Korndoff explained, "because we are here to speak with you on a matter +concerning which our interests are identical. You have read the demands +which England has dared to lay before my master with reference to the +encounter in the North Sea." + +Monsieur Grisson bowed. + +"I have studied them with great interest," he admitted. + +"I do not need tell you then that they are scouted with indignation by +my master and his advisers," the Prince answered. "Neither shall we +permit for a single moment the detention of our fleet upon its mission." + +"That means, then, war with England," Monsieur Grisson remarked quietly. + +"Unless they instantly withdraw their insolent demands--undoubtedly," +the Prince answered. + +Monsieur Grisson turned to the German. + +"And you, Count," he asked, "how does this concern you?" + +"We also," the Count answered, "consider the demands of England +unwarrantable. We believe that there were undoubtedly Japanese torpedo +boats concealed amongst the English fishing fleet, and we consider that +the action of the Admiral in command of the Russian fleet was fully +justified." + +"You are prepared, then, to give Russia your moral support?" the +President asked. + +"We are prepared to do more," the Count answered boldly. "If England +persists in her demands we are prepared to demonstrate against her." + +Monsieur Grisson assumed a very grave expression. + +"I too," he said, "have lost no time in endeavoring to solve the mystery +of this North Sea incident. I have been in communication with the +English Ambassador, and I have collected all the evidence possible. +There is absolutely no proof obtainable of the presence of any Japanese +craft amongst the English fishing fleet. I submit, therefore, that this +is a case for arbitration. I consider that up to the present our friends +on the other side of the Channel have displayed commendable moderation +in a time of great excitement, and I am happy to say that I have the +authority of Lord Fothergill himself for saying that they will consent +to submitting the affair to a commission of arbitration." + +The President's words were received with chilling silence. It was the +Prince, who, after a short silence, replied. + +"Arbitration," he said coldly, "does not commend itself to us. We have +been insulted. Our country and our gallant fleet have been held up to +ridicule throughout the whole English Press. We are tired of being +dictated to and bullied by a weaker Power--the openly declared ally of +our enemy. England has long been seeking for a _casus belli_ with us. At +last she has found it." + +Monsieur Grisson whispered for a moment to one of his colleagues. Then +he turned once more to the Prince. + +"Let us understand one another, Monsieur le Prince!" he said, "and you, +Count von Munchen! You have come to announce to me your intention to +jointly make war upon England. St. Petersburg is to refuse her demands, +England will naturally strike at the Baltic Fleet, and Germany will send +her fleet to the rescue, and at the same time land troops somewhere in +the North of England. Russia, I presume, will withdraw her troops from +Manchuria and strike at India!" + +"No, no!" Count von Munchen protested. "I can assure you, Monsieur, it +is not our intention to land a single German soldier in England. We are +interested only to see fair play to Russia. We require that the Baltic +Fleet shall be allowed to go on its way without molestation." + +The President faced the last speaker. His gray bushy eyebrows met in a +frown. + +"Then what, Count," he asked, "is the meaning of the mobilization of two +hundred thousand men at Kiel? What is the meaning of your State +railroads running west being closed last night to all public traffic? +Why have you cabled huge orders for Government supplies? Why were you +running trains all last night to the coast? Do you suppose that our +secret service slumbers--that we are a nation of babies?" + +The Count made an effort to retain his composure. + +"Monsieur le President," he said, "the reports which have reached you +have been much exaggerated. It is necessary for us to back up our +protests to England by a show of force!" + +Monsieur Grisson smiled. + +"Enough of this, gentlemen!" he said. "We will now talk to one another +as men who have weighty affairs to deal with simply and directly. The +story of the meeting between your two rulers which you, Prince Korndoff, +have alluded to as a fairy tale, was a perfectly true one. I have known +of that meeting some time, and I have certain proof of what transpired +at it. The North Sea incident was no chance affair. It was a +deliberately and skilfully arranged _casus belli_, although your +admiral, Prince Korndoff, had to go one hundred miles out of his way to +find the Dogger Bank fishing-fleet. You spoke to me last night of +Cherbourg, Prince. I think that after all your secret service is +scarcely so successful as mine, for I can assure you that you will find +there all that is to be found to-day at Kiel." + +The Prince was amazed. + +"But, Monsieur le President," he exclaimed, "you cannot mean--you, our +ally----" + +The President extended a forefinger. + +"It was no part of our alliance," he said sternly, "that you should make +a secret treaty with another Power and keep hidden from us no less a +scheme than the invasion of England. My Cabinet have dealt with this +matter on its own merits. I have the honor to tell you, gentlemen, that +I have concluded an alliance with England to come into effect in the +case of your carrying out your present intention. For every army corps +you succeed in landing in England I too shall land one, only, I think, +with less difficulty, and for every German ship which clears for action +in the North Sea two French ones will be prepared to meet her." + +"I think, Monsieur le President," he said stiffly, "that this discussion +had better be postponed until after I have had an opportunity of +communicating with my Imperial master. I must confess, sir, that your +attitude is a complete surprise to me." + +"As you will, sir," the President answered. "I am perhaps more a man of +affairs than a diplomatist, and I have spoken to you with less reserve +than is altogether customary. But I shall never believe that diplomacy +which chooses the dark and tortuous ways of intrigue and +misrepresentation is best calculated to uphold and strengthen the +destinies of a great nation. I wish you good morning, gentlemen!" + + * * * * * + +For forty-eight hours the war fever raged, and the pendulum swung +backwards and forwards. The cables between Berlin and St. Petersburg +were never idle. There was a rumor, amongst those behind the scenes, of +an enormous bribe offered to France in return for her neutrality alone. +Its instantaneous and scornful refusal practically brought the crisis to +an end. The German hosts melted away, and the Baltic Fleet passed on. +St. Petersburg accepted the British demands, and a commission of +arbitration was appointed. Henri de Bergillac read out the news from the +morning paper, and yawned. + +"_C'est fini--l'affaire Poynton!_" he remarked. "You can get ready as +soon as you like, Guy. I am going to take you into Paris to your +sister!" + +Guy looked up eagerly. + +"My pardon?" he asked. + +The Vicomte made a wry face. + +"Heavens!" he exclaimed, "I forgot that there were still explanations to +make. Fill your abominable pipe, _mon ami_, and think that to-morrow or +the next day you may be in your beloved England. Think how well we have +guarded you here when a dozen men were loose in Paris who would have +killed you on sight. Remember that in the underground history of England +you will be known always as the man who saved his country. I shouldn't +wonder in the least if you weren't decorated when you get home. Think of +all these things--hard!" + +"All right!" Guy answered. "Go ahead!" + +"You never killed any one. The duel was a fake. You were--not exactly +sober. That was entirely our fault, and we had to invent some plan to +induce you to come into hiding peacefully. _Voila tout!_ It is +forgiven?" + +Guy laughed a great laugh of relief. + +"Rather!" he exclaimed. "What an ass I must have seemed, asking that old +Johnny for a pardon." + +The Vicomte smiled. + +"The old Johnny, Guy, was the President of France. He wanted to know +afterwards what the devil you meant." + +Guy rose to his feet. + +"If you tell me anything else," he said, "I shall want to punch your +head." + +The Vicomte laughed. + +"Come," he said, "I will return you to your adorable sister!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A MERRY MEETING + + +Monsieur Albert was not often surprised, and still less often did he +show it. The party, however, who trooped cheerily into his little +restaurant at something after midnight on this particular morning, +succeeded in placing him at a disadvantage. + +First there was the Vicomte de Bergillac, one of his most important and +influential patrons for many reasons, whose presence alone was more than +sufficient guarantee for whoever might follow. Then there was the +Marquise de St. Ethol, one of the _haute noblesse_, to welcome whom was +a surpassing honor. + +And then Monsieur Guy Poynton, the young English gentleman, whose single +appearance here a few weeks back had started all the undercurrents of +political intrigue, and who for the justification of French journalism +should at that moment have been slowly dying at the Morgue. + +And with him the beautiful young English lady who had come in search of +him, and who, as she had left the place in the small hours of the +morning with Monsieur Louis, should certainly not now have reappeared as +charming and as brilliant as ever, her eyes soft with happiness, and her +laugh making music more wonderful than the violins of his little +orchestra. + +And following her the broad-shouldered young Englishman, Sir George +Duncombe, who had once entertained a very dangerous little party in his +private room upstairs, and against whom the dictum had gone forth. + +And following him the Englishman with the heavy glasses, whom _l'affaire +Poynton_ had also brought before to his cafe, and with whom Mademoiselle +from Austria had talked long and earnestly. + +And lastly Monsieur Spencer, the English journalist, also with a black +cross after his name, but seemingly altogether unconscious of it. + +Monsieur Albert was not altogether at his best. Such a mixture of sheep +and goats confused him. It was the Vicomte who, together with the head +waiter, arranged a redistribution of tables so that the whole party +could sit together. It was the Vicomte who constituted himself host. He +summoned Monsieur Albert to him. + +"Albert," he said, with a little wave of the hand, "these ladies and +gentlemen are my friends. To quote the words of my charming young +companion here, Monsieur Guy Poynton, whom you may possibly +remember"--Monsieur Albert bowed--"we are on the bust! I do not know the +precise significance of the phrase any more than I suppose you do, but +it means amongst other things a desire for the best you have to eat and +to drink. Bring Pomeroy '92, Albert, and send word to your chef that we +desire to eat without being hungry!" + +Monsieur Albert hurried away, glad of the opportunity to escape. Guy +leaned back in his chair and looked around with interest. + +"Same old place," he remarked, "and by Jove, there's the young lady from +Austria." + +The young lady from Austria paid her bill and departed somewhat hastily. +The Vicomte smiled. + +"I think we shall frighten a few of them away to-night!" he remarked. +"The wine! Good! We shall need magnums to drown our regrets, if indeed +our English friends desert us to-morrow. Monsieur Guy Poynton, +unconscious maker of history and savior of your country, I congratulate +you upon your whole skin, and I drink your health." + +Guy drank, and, laughing, refilled his glass. + +"And to you, the best of amateur conspirators and most charming of +hosts," he said. "Come soon to England and bring your automobile, and we +will conspire against you with a policeman and a stopwatch." + +The Vicomte sighed and glanced towards Phyllis. + +"In happier circumstances!" he murmured, and then catching the +Marquise's eye, he was silent. + +The band played English music, and the chef sent them up a wonderful +omelette. Mademoiselle Ermine, from the Folies Bergeres, danced in the +small space between the tables, and the Vicomte, buying a cluster of +pink roses from the flower-girl, sent them across to her with a diamond +pin in the ribbon. The Marquise rebuked him half seriously, but he only +laughed. + +"To-night," he said, "is the end of a great adventure. We amateurs have +justified our existence. To-night I give away all that I choose. Ah, +Angele!" he murmured, in her dainty little ear, "if I had but a heart to +give!" + +She flashed a quick smile into his face, but her forehead was wrinkled. + +"You have lost it to the young English miss. She is beautiful, but so +cold!" + +"Do you think so?" he whispered. "Look!" + +Phyllis was seated next Duncombe, and he too was whispering something in +her ear. The look with which she answered him, told all that there was +to know. The Marquise, who had intercepted it, shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is not worth while, my friend, that you break your heart," she +murmured, "for that one can see is an affair arranged." + +He nodded. + +"After all," he said, "the true Frenchman loves only in his own +country." + +"Or in any other where he may chance to be," she answered drily. "Never +mind, Henri! I shall not let you wander very far. Your supper-party has +been delightful--but you see the time!" + +They trooped down the narrow stairs laughing and talking. Duncombe and +Phyllis came last, and their hands met for an instant behind the burly +commissionaire. + +"Until to-morrow!" + +"Until to-morrow," she echoed softly, as he handed her into the electric +_coupe_. + +Andrew and he drove down the hill together. Duncombe was a little ill at +ease. + +"There is one thing, Andrew," he said, "which I should like to say to +you. I want you to remember the night in your garden, when you asked me +to come to Paris for you." + +"Yes?" + +"I warned you, didn't I? I knew that it would come, and it has!" + +Andrew smiled in gentle scorn. + +"My dear Duncombe," he said, "why do you think it necessary to tell me a +thing so glaringly apparent? I have nothing to blame you for. It was a +foolish dream of mine, which I shall easily outlive. For, George, this +has been a great day for me. I believe that my time for dreams has gone +by." + +Duncombe turned towards him with interest. + +"What do you mean, Andrew?" + +"I have been to see Foudroye, the great oculist. He has examined my eyes +carefully, and he assures me positively that my eyesight is completely +sound. In two months' time I shall see as well as any one!" + +Duncombe's voice shook with emotion. He grasped his friend's hand. + +"That is good--magnificent, Andrew!" he declared. + +Their carriage rattled over the cobbled stones as they crossed the +Square. The white mysterious dawn was breaking over Paris. Andrew threw +his head back with a laugh. + +"Back into the world, George, where dreams are only the cobwebs of time, +and a man's work grows beneath his hands like a living statue to the +immortals. I feel my hands upon it, and the great winds blowing. Thank +God!" + + +THE END + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's note + +The following typographical error was corrected in the text: + + Phillis Poynton changed to Phyllis Poynton + + + + * * * * * + + + +POPULAR COPYRIGHT NOVELS + +_AT MODERATE PRICES_ + +Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction + + * * * * * + +ABNER DANIEL. By Will N. Harben. + +ADVENTURES OF GERARD. By A. Conan Doyle. + +ADVENTURES OF A MODEST MAN. By Robert W. Chambers. + +ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES. By A. Conan Doyle. + +ADVENTURES OF JIMMIE DALE, THE. By Frank L. Packard. + +AFTER HOUSE, THE. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. + +ALISA PAIGE. By Robert W. Chambers. + +ALTON OF SOMASCO. By Harold Bindloss. + +A MAN'S MAN. By Ian Hay. + +AMATEUR GENTLEMAN, THE. By Jeffery Farnol. + +ANDREW THE GLAD. By Maria Thompson Daviess. + +ANN BOYD. By Will N. Harben. + +ANNA THE ADVENTURESS. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +ANOTHER MAN'S SHOES. By Victor Bridges. + +ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER. By Sidney McCall. + +ARMCHAIR AT THE INN, THE. By F. Hopkinson Smith. + +AROUND OLD CHESTER. By Margaret Deland. + +ATHALIE. By Robert W. Chambers. + +AT THE MERCY OF TIBERIUS. By Augusta Evans Wilson. + +AUCTION BLOCK, THE. By Rex Beach. + +AUNT JANE. By Jeanette Lee. + +AUNT JANE OF KENTUCKY. By Eliza C. Hall. + +AWAKENING OF HELENA RICHIE. By Margaret Deland. + + +BAMBI. By Marjorie Benton Cooke. + +BANDBOX, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +BARBARA OF THE SNOWS. By Harry Irving Green. + +BAR 20. By Clarence E. Mulford. + +BAR 20 DAYS. By Clarence E. Mulford. + +BARRIER, THE. By Rex Beach. + +BEASTS OF TARZAN, THE. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + +BEECHY. By Bettina Von Hutten. + +BELLA DONNA. By Robert Hichens. + +BELOVED VAGABOND, THE. By Wm. J. Locke. + +BELTANE THE SMITH. By Jeffery Farnol. + +BEN BLAIR. By Will Lillibridge. + +BETRAYAL, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +BETTER MAN, THE. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. + +BEULAH. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans. + +BEYOND THE FRONTIER. By Randall Parrish. + +BLACK IS WHITE. By George Barr McCutcheon. + +BLIND MAN'S EYES, THE. By Wm. MacHarg & Edwin Balmer. + +BOB HAMPTON OF PLACER. By Randall Parrish. + +BOB, SON OF BATTLE. By Alfred Ollivant. + +BRITTON OF THE SEVENTH. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. + +BROAD HIGHWAY, THE. By Jeffery Farnol. + +BRONZE BELL, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +BRONZE EAGLE, THE. By Baroness Orczy. + +BUCK PETERS, RANCHMAN. By Clarence E. Mulford. + +BUSINESS OF LIFE, THE. By Robert W. Chambers. + +BY RIGHT OF PURCHASE. By Harold Bindloss. + + +CABBAGES AND KINGS. By O. Henry. + +CALLING OF DAN MATTHEWS, THE. By Harold Bell Wright. + +CAPE COD STORIES. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +CAP'N DAN'S DAUGHTER. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +CAP'N ERI. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +CAP'N WARREN'S WARDS. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +CARDIGAN. By Robert W. Chambers. + +CARPET FROM BAGDAD, THE. By Harold MacGrath. + +CEASE FIRING. By Mary Johnson. + +CHAIN OF EVIDENCE, A. By Carolyn Wells. + +CHIEF LEGATEE, THE. By Anna Katharine Green. + +CLEEK OF SCOTLAND YARD. By T. W. Hanshew. + +CLIPPED WINGS. By Rupert Hughes. + +COAST OF ADVENTURE, THE. By Harold Bindloss. + +COLONIAL FREE LANCE, A. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. + +COMING OF CASSIDY, THE. By Clarence E. Mulford. + +COMING OF THE LAW, THE. By Chas. A. Seltzer. + +CONQUEST OF CANAAN, THE. By Booth Tarkington. + +CONSPIRATORS, THE. By Robt. W. Chambers. + +COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE. By Leroy Scott. + +COURT OF INQUIRY, A. By Grace S. Richmond. + +CRIME DOCTOR, THE. By E. W. Hornung + +CRIMSON GARDENIA, THE, AND OTHER TALES OF ADVENTURE. By Rex Beach. + +CROSS CURRENTS. By Eleanor H. Porter. + +CRY IN THE WILDERNESS, A. By Mary E. Waller. + +CYNTHIA OF THE MINUTE. By Louis Jos. Vance. + + +DARK HOLLOW, THE. By Anna Katharine Green. + +DAVE'S DAUGHTER. By Patience Bevier Cole. + +DAY OF DAYS, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +DAY OF THE DOG, THE. By George Barr McCutcheon. + +DEPOT MASTER, THE. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +DESIRED WOMAN, THE. By Will N. Harben. + +DESTROYING ANGEL, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +DIXIE HART. By Will N. Harben. + +DOUBLE TRAITOR, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +DRUSILLA WITH A MILLION. By Elizabeth Cooper. + + +EAGLE OF THE EMPIRE, THE. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. + +EL DORADO. By Baroness Orczy. + +ELUSIVE ISABEL. By Jacques Futrelle. + +EMPTY POCKETS. By Rupert Hughes. + +ENCHANTED HAT, THE. By Harold MacGrath. + +EYE OF DREAD, THE. By Payne Erskine. + +EYES OF THE WORLD, THE. By Harold Bell Wright. + + +FELIX O'DAY. By F. Hopkinson Smith. + +50-40 OR FIGHT. By Emerson Hough. + +FIGHTING CHANCE, THE. By Robert W. Chambers + +FINANCIER, THE. By Theodore Dreiser. + +FLAMSTED QUARRIES. By Mary E. Waller. + +FLYING MERCURY, THE. By Eleanor M. Ingram. + +FOR A MAIDEN BRAVE. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. + +FOUR MILLION, THE. By O. Henry. + +FOUR POOL'S MYSTERY, THE. By Jean Webster. + +FRUITFUL VINE, THE. By Robert Hichens. + + +GET-RICH-QUICK WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. + +GILBERT NEAL. By Will N. Harben. + +GIRL FROM HIS TOWN, THE. By Marie Van Vorst. + +GIRL OF THE BLUE RIDGE, A. By Payne Erskine. + +GIRL WHO LIVED IN THE WOODS, THE. By Marjorie Benton Cooke. + +GIRL WHO WON, THE. By Beth Ellis. + +GLORY OF CLEMENTINA, THE. By Wm. J. Locke. + +GLORY OF THE CONQUERED, THE. By Susan Glaspell. + +GOD'S COUNTRY AND THE WOMAN. By James Oliver Curwood. + +GOD'S GOOD MAN. By Marie Corelli. + +GOING SOME. By Rex Beach. + +GOLD BAG, THE. By Carolyn Wells. + +GOLDEN SLIPPER, THE. By Anna Katharine Green. + +GOLDEN WEB, THE. By Anthony Partridge. + +GORDON CRAIG. By Randall Parrish. + +GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN. By Frank L. Packard. + +GREYFRIARS BOBBY. By Eleanor Atkinson. + +GUESTS OF HERCULES, THE. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + + +HALCYONE. By Elinor Glyn. + +HAPPY ISLAND (SEQUEL TO UNCLE WILLIAM). By Jeannette Lee. + +HAVOC. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +HEART OF PHILURA, THE. By Florence Kingsley. + +HEART OF THE DESERT, THE. By Honore Willsie. + +HEART OF THE HILLS, THE. By John Fox, Jr. + +HEART OF THE SUNSET. By Rex Beach. + +HEART OF THUNDER MOUNTAIN, THE. By Elfrid A. Bingham. + +HEATHER-MOON, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +HER WEIGHT IN GOLD. By Geo. B. McCutcheon. + +HIDDEN CHILDREN, THE. By Robert W. Chambers. + +HOOSIER VOLUNTEER, THE. By Kate and Virgil D. Boyles. + +HOPALONG CASSIDY. By Clarence E. Mulford. + +HOW LESLIE LOVED. By Anne Warner. + +HUGH WYNNE, FREE QUAKER. By S. Weir Mitchell, M.D. + +HUSBANDS OF EDITH, THE. By George Barr McCutcheon. + + +I CONQUERED. By Harold Titus. + +ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +IDOLS. By William J. Locke. + +INDIFFERENCE OF JULIET, THE. By Grace S. Richmond. + +INEZ. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans. + +INFELICE. By Augusta Evans Wilson. + +IN HER OWN RIGHT. By John Reed Scott. + +INITIALS ONLY. By Anna Katharine Green. + +IN ANOTHER GIRL'S SHOES. By Berta Ruck. + +INNER LAW, THE. By Will N. Harben. + +INNOCENT. By Marie Corelli. + +INSIDIOUS DR. FU-MANCHU, THE. By Sax Rohmer. + +IN THE BROODING WILD. By Ridgwell Cullum. + +INTRIGUES, THE. By Harold Bindloss. + +IRON TRAIL, THE. By Rex Beach. + +IRON WOMAN, THE. By Margaret Deland. + +ISHMAEL. (Ill.) By Mrs. Southworth. + +ISLAND OF REGENERATION, THE. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. + +ISLAND OF SURPRISE, THE. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. + + +JAPONETTE. By Robert W. Chambers. + +JEAN OF THE LAZY A. By B. M. Bower. + +JEANNE OF THE MARSHES. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +JENNIE GERHARDT. By Theodore Dreiser. + +JOYFUL HEATHERBY. By Payne Erskine. + +JUDE THE OBSCURE. By Thomas Hardy. + +JUDGMENT HOUSE, THE. By Gilbert Parker. + + +KEEPER OF THE DOOR, THE. By Ethel M. Dell. + +KEITH OF THE BORDER. By Randall Parrish. + +KENT KNOWLES: QUAHAUG. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +KING SPRUCE. By Holman Day. + +KINGDOM OF EARTH, THE. By Anthony Partridge. + +KNAVE OF DIAMONDS, THE. By Ethel M. Dell. + + +LADY AND THE PIRATE, THE. By Emerson Hough. + +LADY MERTON, COLONIST. By Mrs. Humphrey Ward. + +LANDLOPER, THE. By Holman Day. + +LAND OF LONG AGO, THE. By Eliza Calvert Hall. + +LAST TRY, THE. By John Reed Scott. + +LAST SHOT, THE. By Frederick N. Palmer. + +LAST TRAIL, THE. By Zane Grey. + +LAUGHING CAVALIER, THE. By Baroness Orczy. + +LAW BREAKERS, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum. + +LIGHTED WAY, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +LIGHTING CONDUCTOR DISCOVERS AMERICA, THE. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + +LIN MCLEAN. By Owen Wister. + +LITTLE BROWN JUG AT KILDARE, THE. By Meredith Nicholson. + +LONE WOLF, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +LONG ROLL, THE. By Mary Johnson. + +LONESOME LAND. By B. M. Bower. + +LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +LOST AMBASSADOR. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +LOST PRINCE, THE. By Frances Hodgson Burnett. + +LOST ROAD, THE. By Richard Harding Davis. + +LOVE UNDER FIRE. By Randall Parrish. + +MACARIA. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans. + +MAIDS OF PARADISE, THE. By Robert W. Chambers. + +MAID OF THE FOREST, THE. By Randall Parrish. + +MAID OF THE WHISPERING HILLS, THE. By Vingie E. Roe. + +MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT, THE. By Randolph Chester. + +MAKING MONEY. By Owen Johnson. + +MAM' LINDA. By Will N. Harben. + +MAN OUTSIDE, THE. By Wyndham Martyn. + +MAN TRAIL, THE. By Henry Oyen. + +MARRIAGE. By H. G. Wells. + +MARRIAGE OF THEODORA, THE. By Mollie Elliott Seawell. + +MARY MORELAND. By Marie Van Vorst. + +MASTER MUMMER, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +MAX. By Katherine Cecil Thurston. + +MAXWELL MYSTERY, THE. By Carolyn Wells. + +MEDIATOR, THE. By Roy Norton. + +MEMOIRS OF SHERLOCK HOLMES. By A. Conan Doyle. + +MISCHIEF MAKER, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +MISS GIBBIE GAULT. By Kate Langley Bosher. + +MISS PHILURA'S WEDDING GOWN. By Florence Morse Kingsley. + +MOLLY MCDONALD. By Randall Parrish. + +MONEY MASTER, THE. By Gilbert Parker. + +MONEY MOON. THE. By Jeffery Farnol. + +MOTOR MAID, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +MOTH, THE. By William Dana Orcutt. + +MOUNTAIN GIRL, THE. By Payne Erskine. + +MR. BINGLE. By George Barr McCutcheon. + +MR. GREX OF MONTE CARLO. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +MR. PRATT. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +MR. PRATT'S PATIENTS. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +MRS. BALFAME. By Gertrude Atherton. + +MRS. RED PEPPER. By Grace S. Richmond. + +MY DEMON MOTOR BOAT. By George Fitch. + +MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +MY LADY CAPRICE. By Jeffery Farnol. + +MY LADY OF DOUBT. By Randall Parrish. + +MY LADY OF THE NORTH. By Randall Parrish. + +MY LADY OF THE SOUTH. By Randall Parrish. + + +NE'ER-DO-WELL, THE. By Rex Beach. + +NET, THE. By Rex Beach. + +NEW CLARION. By Will N. Harben. + +NIGHT RIDERS, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum. + +NIGHT WATCHES. By W. W. Jacobs. + +NOBODY. By Louis Joseph Vance. + + +ONCE UPON A TIME. By Richard Harding Davis. + +ONE BRAVER THING. By Richard Dehan. + +ONE WAY TRAIL, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum. + +OTHERWISE PHYLLIS. By Meredith Nicholson. + + +PARDNERS. By Rex Beach. + +PARROTT & CO. By Harold MacGrath. + +PARTNERS OF THE TIDE. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +PASSIONATE FRIENDS, THE. By H. G. Wells. + +PATROL OF THE SUN DANCE TRAIL, THE. By Ralph Connor. + +PAUL ANTHONY, CHRISTIAN. By Hiram W. Hayes. + +PERCH OF THE DEVIL. By Gertrude Atherton. + +PETER RUFF. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +PEOPLE'S MAN, A. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +PHILLIP STEELE. By James Oliver Curwood. + +PIDGIN ISLAND. By Harold MacGrath. + +PLACE OF HONEYMOON, THE. By Harold MacGrath. + +PLUNDERER, THE. By Roy Norton. + +POLE BAKER. By Will N. Harben. + +POOL OF FLAME, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance. + +PORT OF ADVENTURE, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +POSTMASTER, THE. By Joseph C. Lincoln. + +POWER AND THE GLORY, THE. By Grace McGowan Cooke. + +PRAIRIE WIFE, THE. By Arthur Stringer. + +PRICE OF LOVE, THE. By Arnold Bennett. + +PRICE OF THE PRAIRIE, THE. By Margaret Hill McCarter. + +PRINCE OF SINNERS. By A. E. Phillips Oppenheim. + +PRINCES PASSES, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +PRINCESS VIRGINIA, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +PROMISE, THE. By J. B. Hendryx. + +PURPLE PARASOL, THE. By Geo. B. McCutcheon. + + +RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE, THE. By B. M. Bower. + +RANCHING FOR SYLVIA. By Harold Bindloss. + +REAL MAN, THE. By Francis Lynde. + +REASON WHY, THE. By Elinor Glyn. + +RED CROSS GIRL, THE. By Richard Harding Davis. + +RED MIST, THE. By Randall Parrish. + +REDEMPTION OF KENNETH GALT, THE. By Will N. Harben. + +RED LANE, THE. By Holman Day. + +RED MOUSE, THE. By Wm. Hamilton Osborne. + +RED PEPPER BURNS. By Grace S. Richmond. + +REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY, THE. By Anne Warner. + +RETURN OF TARZAN, THE. By Edgar Rice Burroughs. + +RIDDLE OF NIGHT, THE. By Thomas W. Hanshew. + +RIM OF THE DESERT, THE. By Ada Woodruff Anderson. + +RISE OF ROSCOE PAINE, THE. By J. C. Lincoln. + +ROAD TO PROVIDENCE, THE. By Maria Thompson Daviess. + +ROBINETTA. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +ROCKS OF VALPRE, THE. By Ethel M. Dell. + +ROGUE BY COMPULSION, A. By Victor Bridges. + +ROSE IN THE RING, THE. By George Barr McCutcheon. + +ROSE OF THE WORLD. By Agnes and Egerton Castle. + +ROSE OF OLD HARPETH, THE. By Maria Thompson Daviess. + +ROUND THE CORNER IN GAY STREET. By Grace S. Richmond. + +ROUTLEDGE RIDES ALONE. By Will L. Comfort. + + +ST. ELMO. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans. + +SALAMANDER, THE. By Owen Johnson. + +SCIENTIFIC SPRAGUE. By Francis Lynde. + +SECOND VIOLIN, THE. By Grace S. Richmond. + +SECRET OF THE REEF, THE. By Harold Bindloss. + +SECRET HISTORY. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. + +SELF-RAISED. (Ill.) By Mrs. Southworth. + +SEPTIMUS. By William J. Locke. + +SET IN SILVER. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. + +SEVEN DARLINGS, THE. By Gouverneur Morris. + +SHEA OF THE IRISH BRIGADE. By Randall Parrish. + +SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS, THE. By Harold Bell Wright. + +SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum. + +SIGN AT SIX, THE. By Stewart Edw. White. + +SILVER HORDE, THE. By Rex Beach. + +SIMON THE JESTER. By William J. Locke. + +SIREN OF THE SNOWS, A. By Stanley Shaw. + +SIR RICHARD CALMADY. By Lucas Malet. + +SIXTY-FIRST SECOND, THE. By Owen Johnson. + +SLIM PRINCESS, THE. By George Ade. + + + + * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's notes + +The following typographical errors were corrected in the text above: + + 1. A. N. Williamson changed to A. M. Williamson + 2. Caroline Wells changed to Carolyn Wells + 3. Marjorie Benton Cook changed to Marjorie Benton Cooke + +The list of books presented at the bottom of this text ended +at "The Slim Princess" in the original scans that were used, +probably due to missing pages. Other copies that were obtained +did not include this list of books at all. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY*** + + +******* This file should be named 19341.txt or 19341.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/3/4/19341 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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