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diff --git a/1976-h/1976-h.htm b/1976-h/1976-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..312aaec --- /dev/null +++ b/1976-h/1976-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19491 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Peter Ruff and the Double Four, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's Peter Ruff and the Double Four, 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: Peter Ruff and the Double Four + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: November 7, 2008 [EBook #1976] +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PETER RUFF AND THE DOUBLE FOUR *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PETER RUFF AND THE DOUBLE FOUR + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By E. Phillips Oppenheim + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>BOOK ONE</b> </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> INTRODUCING + MR. PETER RUFF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> A + NEW CAREER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> VINCENT + CAWDOR, COMMISSION AGENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. + </a> THE INDISCRETION OF LETTY SHAW <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> DELILAH FROM STREATHAM + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE + LITTLE LADY FROM SERVIA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. + </a> THE DEMAND OF THE DOUBLE-FOUR <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> Mrs. BOGNOR’S STAR + BOARDER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE + PERFIDY OF MISS BROWN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. + </a> WONDERFUL JOHN DORY <br /><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>BOOK TWO</b> </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER I. </a> RECALLED + BY THE DOUBLE-FOUR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER II. </a> PRINCE + ALBERT’S CARD DEBTS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER III. + </a> THE AMBASSADOR’S WIFE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> + CHAPTER IV. </a> THE MAN PROM THE OLD TESTAMENT <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE FIRST SHOT <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE SEVEN SUPPERS + OF ANDREA KORUST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER VII. </a> MAJOR + KOSUTH’S MISSION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER VIII. + </a> THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE GHOSTS OF + HAVANA HARBOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE + AFFAIR or AN ALIEN SOCIETY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER + XI. </a> THE THIRTEENTH ENCOUNTER <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + BOOK ONE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. INTRODUCING MR. PETER RUFF + </h2> + <p> + There was nothing about the supper party on that particular Sunday evening + in November at Daisy Villa, Green Street, Streatham, which seemed to + indicate in any way that one of the most interesting careers connected + with the world history of crime was to owe its very existence to the + disaster which befell that little gathering. The villa was the residence + and also—to his credit—the unmortgaged property of Mr. David + Barnes, a struggling but fairly prosperous coal merchant of excellent + character, some means, and Methodist proclivities. His habit of sitting + without his coat when carving, although deprecated by his wife and + daughter on account of the genteel aspirations of the latter, was a not + unusual one in the neighbourhood; and coupled with the proximity of a cold + joint of beef, his seat at the head of the table, and a carving knife and + fork grasped in his hands, established clearly the fact of his position in + the household, which a somewhat weak physiognomy might otherwise have led + the casual observer to doubt. Opposite him, at the other end of the table, + sat his wife, Mrs. Barnes, a somewhat voluminous lady with a high colour, + a black satin frock, and many ornaments. On her left the son of the house, + eighteen years old, of moderate stature, somewhat pimply, with the fashion + of the moment reflected in his pink tie with white spots, drawn through a + gold ring, and curving outwards to seek obscurity underneath a dazzling + waistcoat. A white tube-rose in his buttonhole might have been intended as + a sort of compliment to the occasion, or an indication of his intention to + take a walk after supper in the fashionable purlieus of the neighbourhood. + Facing him sat his sister—a fluffy-haired, blue-eyed young lady, + pretty in her way, but chiefly noticeable for a peculiar sort of + self-consciousness blended with self-satisfaction, and possessed only at a + certain period in their lives by young ladies of her age. It was almost + the air of the cat in whose interior reposes the missing canary, except + that in this instance the canary obviously existed in the person of the + young man who sat at her side, introduced formally to the household for + the first time. That young man’s name was—at the moment—Mr. + Spencer Fitzgerald. + </p> + <p> + It seems idle to attempt any description of a person who, in the past, had + secured a certain amount of fame under a varying personality; and who, in + the future, was to become more than ever notorious under a far less + aristocratic pseudonym than that by which he was at present known to the + inhabitants of Daisy Villa. There are photographs of him in New York and + Paris, St. Petersburg and Chicago, Vienna and Cape Town, but there are no + two pictures which present to the casual observer the slightest likeness + to one another. To allude to him by the name under which he had won some + part, at least, of the affections of Miss Maud Barnes, Mr. Spencer + Fitzgerald, as he sat there, a suitor on probation for her hand, was a + young man of modest and genteel appearance. He wore a blue serge suit—a + little underdressed for the occasion, perhaps; but his tie and collar were + neat; his gold-rimmed spectacles—if a little disapproved of by Maud + on account of the air of steadiness which they imparted—suggested + excellent son-in-lawlike qualities to Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. He had the + promise of a fair moustache, but his complexion generally was colourless. + His features, except for a certain regularity, were undistinguished. His + speech was modest and correct. His manner varied with his company. + To-night it had been pronounced, by excellent judges—genteel. + </p> + <p> + The conversation consisted—naturally enough, under the circumstances—of + a course of subtle and judicious pumping, tactfully prompted, for the most + part, by Mrs. Barnes. Such, for instance, as the following: + </p> + <p> + “Talking about Marie Corelli’s new book reminds me, Mr. Fitzgerald—your + occupation is connected with books, is it not?” his prospective + mother-in-law enquired, artlessly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fitzgerald bowed assent. + </p> + <p> + “I am cashier at Howell & Wilson’s in Cheapside,” he said. “We sell a + great many books there—as many, I should think, as any retail + establishment in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” Mrs. Barnes purred. “Very interesting work, I am sure. So nice + and intellectual, too; for, of course, you must be looking inside them + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the place well,” Mr. Adolphus Barnes, Junior, announced + condescendingly,—“pass it every day on my way to lunch.” + </p> + <p> + “So much nicer,” Mrs. Barnes continued, “than any of the ordinary + businesses—grocery or drapery, or anything of that sort.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Maud elevated her eyebrows slightly. Was it likely that she would + have looked with eyes of favour upon a young man engaged in any of these + inferior occupations? + </p> + <p> + “There’s money in books, too,” Mr. Barnes declared with sudden + inspiration. His prospective son-in-law turned towards him deferentially. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir,” he admitted. “There is money in them. There’s money + for those who write, and there’s money for those who sell. My occupation,” + he continued, with a modest little cough, “brings me often into touch with + publishers, travellers and clerks, so I am, as it were, behind the scenes + to some extent. I can assure you,” he continued, looking from Mr. Barnes + to his wife, and finally transfixing Mr. Adolphus—“I can assure you + that the money paid by some firms of publishers to a few well-known + authors—I will mention no names—as advances against royalties, + is something stupendous!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Mr. Barnes murmured, solemnly shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Marie Corelli, I expect, and that Hall Caine,” remarked young Adolphus. + </p> + <p> + “Seems easy enough to write a book, too,” Mrs. Barnes said. “Why, I + declare that some of those we get from the library—we subscribe to a + library, Mr. Fitzgerald—are just as simple and straightforward that + a child might have written them. No plot whatsoever, no murders or + mysteries or anything of that sort—just stories about people like + ourselves. I don’t see how they can pay people for writing stories about + people just like those one meets every day!” + </p> + <p> + “I always say,” Maud intervened, “that Spencer means to write a book some + day. He has quite the literary air, hasn’t he, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed he has!” Mrs. Barnes declared, with an appreciative glance at the + gold-rimmed spectacles. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fitzgerald modestly disclaimed any literary aspirations. + </p> + <p> + “The thing is a gift, after all,” he declared, generously. “I can keep + accounts, and earn a fair salary at it, but if I attempted fiction I + should soon be up a tree.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barnes nodded his approval of such sentiments. + </p> + <p> + “Every one to his trade, I say,” he remarked. “What sort of salaries do + they pay now in the book trade?” he asked guilelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Very fair,” Mr. Fitzgerald admitted candidly,—“very fair indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “When I was your age,” Mr. Barnes said reflectively, “I was getting—let + me see—forty-two shillings a week. Pretty good pay, too, for those + days.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fitzgerald admitted the fact. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he said apologetically, “salaries are a little higher now all + round. Mr. Howell has been very kind to me,—in fact I have had two + raises this year. I am getting four pounds ten now.” + </p> + <p> + “Four pounds ten per week?” Mrs. Barnes exclaimed, laying down her knife + and fork. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” Mr. Fitzgerald answered. “After Christmas, I have some reason + to believe that it may be five pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barnes whistled softly, and looked at the young man with a new + respect. + </p> + <p> + “I told you that—Mr.—that Spencer was doing pretty well, + Mother,” Maud simpered, looking down at her plate. + </p> + <p> + “Any one to support?” her father asked, transferring a pickle from the + fork to his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “No one,” Mr. Fitzgerald answered. “In fact, I may say that I have some + small expectations. I haven’t done badly, either, out of the few + investments I have made from time to time.” + </p> + <p> + “Saved a bit of money, eh?” Mr. Barnes enquired genially. + </p> + <p> + “I have a matter of four hundred pounds put by,” Mr. Fitzgerald admitted + modestly, “besides a few sticks of furniture. I never cared much about + lodging-house things, so I furnished a couple of rooms myself some time + ago.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Barnes rose slowly to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure you won’t have a small piece more of beef?” she + enquired anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Just a morsel?” Mr. Barnes asked, tapping the joint insinuatingly with + his carving knife. + </p> + <p> + “No, I thank you!” Mr. Fitzgerald declared firmly. “I have done + excellently.” + </p> + <p> + “Then if you will put the joint on the sideboard, Adolphus,” Mrs. Barnes + directed, “Maud and I will change the plates. We always let the girl go + out on Sundays, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she explained, turning to their guest. + “It’s very awkward, of course, but they seem to expect it.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite natural, I’m sure,” Mr. Fitzgerald murmured, watching Maud’s light + movements with admiring eyes. “I like to see ladies interested in domestic + work.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s one thing I will say for Maud,” her proud mother declared, + plumping down a dish of jelly upon the table, “she does know what’s what + in keeping house, and even if she hasn’t to scrape and save as I did when + David and I were first married, economy is a great thing when you’re + young. I have always said so, and I stick to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Mother,” Mr. Barnes declared. + </p> + <p> + “If instead of sitting there,” Mrs. Barnes continued in high good humour, + “you were to get a bottle of that port wine out of the cellarette, we + might drink Mr. Fitzgerald’s health, being as it’s his first visit.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barnes rose to his feet with alacrity. “For a woman with sound ideas,” + he declared, “commend me to your mother!” + </p> + <p> + Maud, having finished her duties, resumed her place by the side of the + guest of the evening. Their hands met under the tablecloth for a moment. + To the girl, the pleasure of such a proceeding was natural enough, but + Fitzgerald asked himself for the fiftieth time why on earth he, who, + notwithstanding his present modest exterior, was a young man of some + experience, should from such primitive love-making derive a rapture which + nothing else in life afforded him. He was, at that moment, content with + his future,—a future which he had absolutely and finally decided + upon. He was content with his father-in-law and his mother-in-law, with + Daisy Villa, and the prospect of a Daisy Villa for himself,—content, + even, with Adolphus! But for Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald, these things were not + to be! The awakening was even then at hand. + </p> + <p> + The dining room of Daisy Villa fronted the street, and was removed from it + only a few feet. Consequently, the footsteps of passers-by upon the + flagged pavement were clearly distinguishable. It was just at the moment + when Mrs. Barnes was inserting a few fresh almonds into a somewhat + precarious tipsy cake, and Mr. Barnes was engaged with the decanting of + the port, that two pairs of footsteps, considerably heavier than those of + the ordinary promenader, paused outside and finally stopped. The gate + creaked. Mr. Barnes looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” he exclaimed. “What’s that? Visitors?” + </p> + <p> + They all listened. The front-door bell rang. Adolphus, in response to a + gesture from his mother, rose sulkily to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Job I hate!” he muttered as he left the room. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the family, full of the small curiosity of people of their + class, were intent upon listening for voices outside. The demeanour of Mr. + Spencer Fitzgerald, therefore, escaped their notice. It is doubtful, in + any case, whether their perceptions would have been sufficiently keen to + have enabled them to trace the workings of emotion in the countenance of a + person so magnificently endowed by Providence with the art of subterfuge. + Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald seemed simply to have stiffened in acute and + earnest attention. It was only for a moment that he hesitated. His + unfailing inspiration told him the truth! + </p> + <p> + His course of action was simple,—he rose to his feet and strolled to + the window. + </p> + <p> + “Some people who have lost their way in the fog, perhaps,” he remarked. + “What a night!” + </p> + <p> + He laid his hand upon the sash—simultaneously there was a rush of + cold air into the room, a half-angry, half-frightened exclamation from + Adolphus in the passage, a scream from Miss Maud—and no Mr. Spencer + Fitzgerald! No one had time to be more than blankly astonished. The door + was opened, and a police inspector, in very nice dark braided uniform and + a peaked cap, stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barnes dropped the port, and Mrs. Barnes, emulating her daughter’s + example, screamed. The inspector, as though conscious of the draught, + moved rapidly toward the window. + </p> + <p> + “You had a visitor here, Mr. Barnes,” he said quickly—“a Mr. Spencer + Fitzgerald. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + There was no one who could answer! Mr. Barnes was speechless between the + shock of the spilt port and the appearance of a couple of uniformed + policemen in his dining room. John Dory, the detective, he knew well + enough in his private capacity, but in his uniform, and attended by + policemen, he presented a new and startling appearance! Mrs. Barnes was in + hysterics, and Maud was gazing like a creature turned to stone at the open + window, through which little puffs of fog were already drifting into the + room. Adolphus, with an air of bewilderment, was standing with his mouth + and eyes wider open than they had ever been in his life. And as for the + honoured guest of these admirable inhabitants of Daisy Villa, there was + not the slightest doubt but that Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald had disappeared + through the window! + </p> + <p> + Fitzgerald’s expedition was nearly at an end. Soon he paused, crossed the + road to a block of flats, ascended to the eighth floor by an automatic + lift, and rang the bell at a door which bore simply the number II. A trim + parlourmaid opened it after a few minutes’ delay. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Emerson at home?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Emerson is in,” the maid admitted, with some hesitation, “but I am + not sure that she will see any one to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a message for her,” Fitzgerald said. + </p> + <p> + “Will you give me your name, sir, please?” the maid asked. + </p> + <p> + An inner door was suddenly opened. A slim girl, looking taller than she + really was by reason of the rug upon which she stood, looked out into the + hall—a girl with masses of brown hair loosely coiled on her head, + with pale face and strange eyes. She opened her lips as though to call to + her visitor by name, and as suddenly closed them again. There was not much + expression in her face, but there was enough to show that his visit was + not unwelcome. + </p> + <p> + “You!” she exclaimed. “Come in! Please come in at once!” + </p> + <p> + Fitzgerald obeyed the invitation of the girl whom he had come to visit. + She had retreated a little into the room, but the door was no sooner + closed than she held out her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Peter!” she exclaimed. “Peter, you have come to me at last!” + </p> + <p> + Her lips were a little parted; her eyes were bright with pleasure; her + whole expression was one of absolute delight. Fitzgerald frowned, as + though he found her welcome a little too enthusiastic for his taste. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, “please don’t look at me as though I were a prodigal + sheep. If you do, I shall be sorry that I came.” + </p> + <p> + Her hands fell to her side, the pleasure died out of her face—only + her eyes still questioned him. Fitzgerald carefully laid his hat on a + vacant chair. + </p> + <p> + “Something has happened?” she said. “Tell me that all that madness is over—that + you are yourself again!” + </p> + <p> + “So far as regards my engagement with Messrs. Howell & Wilson,” he + said, despondently, “you are right. As regards—Miss Barnes, there + has been no direct misunderstanding between us, but I am afraid, for the + present, that I must consider that—well, in abeyance.” + </p> + <p> + “That is something!” she exclaimed, drawing a little breath of relief. + “Sit down, Peter. Will you have something to eat? I finished dinner an + hour ago, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” Fitzgerald interrupted, “I supped—extremely well in + Streatham!” + </p> + <p> + “In Streatham!” she repeated. “Why, how did you get there? The fog is + awful.” + </p> + <p> + “Fogs do not trouble me,” Fitzgerald answered. “I walked. I could have + done it as well blindfold. I will take a whisky and soda, if I may.” + </p> + <p> + She led him to an easy-chair. + </p> + <p> + “I will mix it myself,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Without being remarkably good-looking, she was certainly a pleasant and + attractive-looking young woman. Her cheeks were a little pale; her hair—perfectly + natural—was a wonderful deep shade of soft brown. Her eyes were long + and narrow—almost Oriental in shape—and they seemed in some + queer way to match the room; he could have sworn that in the firelight + they flashed green. Her body and limbs, notwithstanding her extreme + slightness, were graceful, perhaps, but with the grace of the tigress. She + wore a green silk dressing jacket, pulled together with a belt of lizard + skin, and her neck was bare. Her skirt was of some thin black material. + She was obviously in deshabille, and yet there was something neat and trim + about the smaller details of her toilette. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, please, Peter,” she begged. “You are keeping me in suspense.” + </p> + <p> + “There isn’t much to tell,” he answered. “It’s over—that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a sharp breath through her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “You are not going to marry that girl—that bourgeois doll in + Streatham?” + </p> + <p> + Fitzgerald sat up in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, seriously, “don’t you call her names. If I’m not + going to marry her, it isn’t my fault. She is the only girl I have ever + wanted, and probably—most probably—she will be the only one I + ever shall want. That’s honest, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + The girl winced. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “it is honest!” + </p> + <p> + “I should have married her,” the young man continued, “and I should have + been happy. I had my eye on a villa—not too near her parents—and + I saw my way to a little increase of salary. I should have taken to + gardening, to walks in the Park, with an occasional theatre, and I should + have thoroughly enjoyed a fortnight every summer at Skegness or + Sutton-on-Sea. We should have saved a little money. I should have gone to + church regularly, and if possible I should have filled some minor public + offices. You may call this bourgeois—it was my idea of happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Was!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Is still,” he declared, sharply, “but I shall never attain to it. + To-night I had to leave Maud—to leave the supper table of Daisy + Villa—through the window!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “The police,” he explained. “That brute Dory was at the bottom of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely,” she murmured, “you told me that you had a bona-fide + situation—” + </p> + <p> + “So I had,” he declared, “and I was a fool not to be content with it. It + was my habit of taking long country walks, and their rotten auditing, + which undid me! You understand that this was all before I met Maud? Since + the day I spoke to her, I turned over a new leaf. I have left the night + work alone, and I repaid every penny of the firm’s money which they could + ever have possibly found out about. There was only that one little affair + of mine down at Sudbury.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what you are going to do?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I have no alternative,” he answered. “The law has kicked me out from the + respectable places. The law shall pay!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with glowing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any plans?” she asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” he answered. “I have considered the subject from a good many + points of view, and I have decided to start in business for myself as a + private detective.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Peter!” she murmured. “Couldn’t you be a little more original?” + </p> + <p> + “That is only what I am going to call myself,” he answered. “I may tell + you that I am going to strike out on somewhat new lines.” + </p> + <p> + “Please explain,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + He recrossed his knees and made himself a little more comfortable. + </p> + <p> + “The weak part of every great robbery, however successful,” he began, “is + the great wastage in value which invariably results. For jewels which cost—say + five thousand pounds, and to procure which the artist has to risk his life + as well as his liberty, he has to consider himself lucky if he clears + eight hundred. For the Hermitage rubies, for instance, where I nearly had + to shoot a man dead, I realized rather less than four hundred pounds. It + doesn’t pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “I am not clear,” he continued, “how far this class of business will + attract me at all, but I do not propose, in any case, to enter into any + transactions on my own account. I shall work for other people, and for + cash down. Your experience of life, Violet, has been fairly large. Have + you not sometimes come into contact with people driven into a situation + from which they would willingly commit any crime to escape if they dared? + It is not with them a question of money at all—it is simply a matter + of ignorance. They do not know how to commit a crime. They have had no + experience, and if they attempt it, they know perfectly well that they are + likely to blunder. A person thoroughly experienced in the ways of + criminals—a person of genius like myself—would have, without a + doubt, an immense clientele, if only he dared put up his signboard. + Literally, I cannot do that. Actually, I mean to do so! I shall be willing + to accept contracts either to help nervous people out of an undesirable + crisis; or, on the other hand, to measure my wits against the wits of + Scotland Yard, and to discover the criminals whom they have failed to + secure. I shall make my own bargains, and I shall be paid in cash. I shall + take on nothing that I am not certain about.” + </p> + <p> + “But your clients?” she asked, curiously. “How will you come into contact + with them?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of business being slack,” he said. “The world is full of + fools.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot live outside the law, Peter,” she objected. “You are clever, I + know, but they are not all fools at Scotland Yard.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget,” he reminded her, “that there will be a perfectly legitimate + side to my profession. The other sort of case I shall only accept if I can + see my way clear to make a success of it. Needless to say, I shall have to + refuse the majority that are offered to me.” + </p> + <p> + She came a little nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “In any case,” she said, with a little sigh, “you have given up that + foolish, bourgeois life of yours?” + </p> + <p> + He looked down into her face, and his eyes were cold. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, “this is no time for misunderstandings. I should like + you to know that apart from one young lady, who possesses my whole + affection—” + </p> + <p> + “All of it?” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “All!” he declared emphatically. “She will doubtless be faithless to me—under + the circumstances, I cannot blame her—but so far as I am concerned, + I have no affection whatever for any one else.” + </p> + <p> + She crept back to her place. + </p> + <p> + “I could be so useful to you,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You could and you shall, if you will be sensible,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how?” she begged. + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Are you acting now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am understudying Molly,” she answered, “and I have a very small part at + the Globe.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “There is no reason to interfere with that,” he said, “in fact, I wish you + to continue your connection with the profession. It brings you into touch + with the class of people among whom I am likely to find clients.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, please,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “On two conditions—or rather one,” he said, “you can, if you like, + become my secretary and partner—and find the money we shall require + to make a start.” + </p> + <p> + “Conditions?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You must understand, once and for all,” he said, “that I will not be made + love to, and that I can treat you only as a working; companion. My name + will be Peter Ruff, and yours Miss Brown. You will have to dress like a + secretary, and behave like one. Sometimes there will be plenty of work for + you, and sometimes there will be none at all. Sometimes you will be bored + to death, and sometimes there will be excitement. I do not wish to make + you vain, but I may add, especially as you are aware of my personal + feelings toward you, that you are the only person in the world to whom I + would make this offer.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed gently. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Peter,” she asked, “when do you mean to start this new + enterprise?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for six months—perhaps a year,” he answered. “I must go to + Paris—perhaps Vienna. I might even have to go to New York. There are + certain associations with which I must come into touch—certain + information I must become possessed of.” + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she said, “I like your scheme, but there is just one thing. Such + men as you should be the brains of great enterprises. Don’t you understand + what I mean? It shouldn’t be you who does the actual thing which brings + you within the power of the law. I am not over-scrupulous, you know. I + hate wrongdoing, but I have never been able to treat as equal criminals + the poor man who steals for a living, and the rich financier who robs + right and left out of sheer greed. I agree with you that crime is not an + absolute thing. The circumstances connected with every action in life + determine its morality or immorality. But, Peter, it isn’t worth while to + go outside the law!” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You are a sensible girl,” he said, “I have always thought that. We’ll + talk over my cases together, if they seem to run a little too close to the + line.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Peter,” she said, “I accept.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. A NEW CAREER + </h2> + <p> + About twelve months after the interrupted festivities at Daisy Villa, that + particular neighbourhood was again the scene of some rejoicing. Standing + before the residence of Mr. Barnes were three carriages, drawn in each + case by a pair of grey horses. The coachmen and their steeds were + similarly adorned with white rosettes. It would have been an insult to the + intelligence of the most youthful of the loungers-by to have informed them + that a wedding was projected. + </p> + <p> + At the neighbouring church all was ready. The clerk stood at the door, the + red drugget was down, the usual little crowd were standing all agog upon + the pavement. There was one unusual feature of the proceedings: Instead of + a solitary policeman, there were at least a dozen who kept clear the + entrance to the church. Their presence greatly puzzled a little old + gentleman who had joined the throng of sightseers. He pushed himself to + the front and touched one of them upon the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Policeman,” he said, “will you tell me why there are so many of you + to keep such a small crowd in order?” + </p> + <p> + “Bridegroom’s a member of the force, sir, for one reason,” the man + answered good-humouredly. + </p> + <p> + “And the other?” the old gentleman persisted. + </p> + <p> + The policeman behaved as though he had not heard—a proceeding which + his natural stolidity rendered easy. The little old gentleman, however, + was not so easily put off. He tapped the man once more upon the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “And the other reason, Mr. Policeman?” he asked insinuatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Not allowed to talk about that, sir,” was the somewhat gruff reply. + </p> + <p> + The little old gentleman moved away, a trifle hurt. He was a very nicely + dressed old gentleman indeed, and everything about him seemed to savour of + prosperity. But he was certainly garrulous. An obviously invited guest was + standing upon the edge of the pavement stroking a pair of lavender kid + gloves. The little old gentleman sidled up to him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, raising his hat. “I am just back from + Australia—haven’t seen a wedding in England for fifty years. Do you + think that they would let me into the church?” + </p> + <p> + The invited guest looked down at his questioner and approved of him. + Furthermore, he seemed exceedingly glad to be interrupted in his somewhat + nervous task of waiting for the wedding party. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” he replied cheerfully. “Come along in with me, and I’ll + find you a seat.” + </p> + <p> + Down the scarlet drugget they went—the big best man with the red + hands and the lavender kid gloves and the opulent-looking old gentleman + with the gold-rimmed spectacles and the handsome walking stick. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, this is very interesting!” the latter remarked. “Is it the + custom, sir, always, may I ask, in this country, to have so many policemen + at a wedding?” + </p> + <p> + The big man looked downward and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Special reason,” he said mysteriously. “Fact is, young lady was engaged + once to a very bad character—a burglar whom the police have been + wanting for years. He had to leave the country, but he has written her + once or twice since in a mysterious sort of way—wanted her to be + true to him, and all that sort of thing. Dory—that’s the bridegroom—has + got a sort of an idea that he may turn up to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “This is very exciting—very!” the little old gentleman remarked. + “Reminds me of our younger days out in Australia.” + </p> + <p> + “You sit down here,” the best man directed, ushering his companion into an + empty pew. “I must get back again outside, or I shall have the bridegroom + arriving.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-day to you, sir, and many thanks!” the little old gentleman said + politely. + </p> + <p> + Soon the bridegroom arrived—a smart young officer, well thought of + at Scotland Yard, well set up, wearing a long tail coat a lilac and white + tie, and shaking in every limb. He walked up the aisle accompanied by the + best man, and the little old gentleman from Australia watched him genially + from behind those gold-rimmed glasses. And, then, scarcely was he at the + altar rails when through the open church door one heard the sounds of + horses’ feet, one heard a rustle, the murmur of voices, caught a glimpse + of a waiting group arranging themselves finally in the porch of the + church. Maud, on the arm of her father, came slowly up the aisle. The + little old gentleman turned his head as though this was something upon + which he feared to look. He saw nothing of Mr. Barnes, in a new coat, with + tuberose and spray of maidenhair in his coat, and exceedingly tight patent + leather boots on his feet; he saw nothing of Mrs. Barnes, clad in a gown + of the lightest magenta, with a bonnet smothered with violets. + </p> + <p> + It was in the vestry that the only untoward incident of that highly + successful wedding took place. The ceremony was over! Bride, bridegroom + and parents trooped in. And when the register was opened, one witness had + already signed! In the clear, precise writing his name stood out upon the + virgin page— + </p> + <p> + Spencer Fitzgerald + </p> + <p> + The bridegroom swore, the bride nearly collapsed. The clerk pressed into + the hands of the latter an envelope. + </p> + <p> + “From the little old gentleman,” he announced, “who was fussing round the + church this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dory tore it open and gave a cry of delight. A diamond cross, worth + all the rest of her presents put together, flashed soft lights from a + background of dull velvet. Her husband had looked over her shoulder, and + with a scowl seized the morocco case and threw it far from him. + </p> + <p> + It was the only disturbing incident of a highly successful function! + </p> + <p> + At precisely the same moment when the wedding guests were seated around + the hospitable board of Daisy Villa, a celebration of a somewhat different + nature was taking place in the more aristocratic neighbourhood of Curzon + Street. Here, however, the little party was a much smaller one, and the + innocent gaiety of the gathering at Daisy Villa was entirely lacking. The + luncheon table around which the four men were seated presented all the + unlovely signs of a meal where self-restraint had been abandoned—where + conviviality has passed the bounds of licence. Edibles were represented + only by a single dish of fruit; the tablecloth, stained with wine and + cigar ash, seemed crowded with every sort of bottle and every sort of + glass. A magnum of champagne, empty, another half full, stood in the + middle of the table; whisky, brandy, liqueurs of various sorts were all + represented; glasses—some full, some empty, some filled with cigar + ash and cigarette stumps—an ugly sight! + </p> + <p> + The guest in chief arose. Short, thick-set, red-faced, with bulbous eyes, + and veins about his temples which just now were unpleasantly prominent, he + seemed, indeed, a very fitting person to have been the recipient of such + hospitality. He stood clutching a little at the tablecloth and swaying + upon his feet. He spoke as a drunken man, but such words as he pronounced + clearly showed him to be possessed of a voice naturally thick and raspy. + It was obvious that he was a person of entirely different class from his + three companions. + </p> + <p> + “G—gentlemen,” he said, “I must be off. I thank you very much for + this—hospitality. Honoured, I’m sure, to have sat down in such—such + company. Good afternoon, all!” + </p> + <p> + He lurched a little toward the door, but his neighbour at the table—who + was also his host—caught hold of his coat tail and pulled him back + into his chair. + </p> + <p> + “No hurry, Masters,” he said. “One more liqueur, eh? It’s a raw + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “N—not another drop, Sir Richard!” the man declared. “Not another + drop to drink. I am very much obliged to you all, but I must be off. Must + be off,” he repeated, making another effort to rise. + </p> + <p> + His host held him by the arm. The man resented it—he showed signs of + anger. + </p> + <p> + “D—n it all! I—I’m not a prisoner, am I?” he exclaimed + angrily. “Tell you I’ve got—appointment—club. Can’t you see + it’s past five o’clock?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, Masters,” the man whom he had addressed as Sir Richard + declared soothingly. “We want just a word with you on business first, + before you go—Colonel Dickinson, Lord Merries and myself.” + </p> + <p> + Masters shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “See you to-morrow,” he declared. “No time to talk business now. Let me + go!” + </p> + <p> + He made another attempt to rise, which his host also prevented. + </p> + <p> + “Masters, don’t be a fool!” the latter said firmly. “You’ve got to hear + what we want to say to you. Sit down and listen.” + </p> + <p> + Masters relapsed sullenly into his chair. His little eyes seemed to creep + closer to one another. So they wanted to talk business! Perhaps it was for + that reason that they had bidden him sit at their table—had + entertained him so well! The very thought cleared his brain. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said shortly. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard lit a cigarette and leaned further back in his chair. He was a + man apparently about fifty years of age—tall, well dressed, with + good features, save for his mouth, which resembled more than anything a + rat trap. He was perfectly bald, and he had the air of a man who was a + careful liver. His eyes were bright, almost beadlike; his fingers long and + a trifle over-manicured. One would have judged him to be what he was—a + man of fashion and a patron of the turf. + </p> + <p> + “Masters,” he said, “we are all old friends here. We want to speak to you + plainly. We three have had a try, as you know—Merries, Dickinson and + myself—to make the coup of our lives. We failed, and we’re up + against it hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Very hard, indeed,” Lord Merries murmured softly. + </p> + <p> + “Deuced hard!” Colonel Dickinson echoed. + </p> + <p> + Masters was sitting tight, breathing a little hard, looking fixedly at his + host. + </p> + <p> + “Take my own case first,” the latter continued. “I am Sir Richard Dyson, + ninth baronet, with estates in Wiltshire and Scotland, and a town house in + Cleveland Place. I belong to the proper clubs for a man in my position, + and, somehow or other—we won’t say how—I have managed to pay + my way. There isn’t an acre of my property that isn’t mortgaged for more + than its value. My town house—well, it doesn’t belong to me at all! + I have twenty-six thousand pounds to pay you on Monday. To save my life, I + could not raise twenty-six thousand farthings! So much for me.” + </p> + <p> + The man Masters ground his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “So much for you!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Take the case next,” Sir Richard continued, “of my friend Merries here. + Merries is an Earl, it is true, but he never had a penny to bless himself + with. He’s tried acting, reporting, marrying—anything to make an + honest living. So far, I am afraid we must consider Lord Merries as + something of a failure, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “A rotten failure, I should say,” that young nobleman declared gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Merries is, to put it briefly, financially unsound,” Sir Richard + declared. + </p> + <p> + “What is the amount of your debt to Mr. Masters, Jim?” + </p> + <p> + “Eleven thousand two hundred pounds,” Lord Merries answered. + </p> + <p> + “And we may take it, I presume, for granted that you have not that sum, + nor anything like it, at your disposal?” Sir Richard asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not a fiver!” Lord Merries declared with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “We come now, Mr. Masters, to our friend Colonel Dickinson,” Sir Richard + continued. “Colonel Dickinson is, perhaps, in a more favourable situation + than any of us. He has a small but regular income, and he has expectations + which it is not possible to mortgage fully. At the same time, it will be + many years before they can—er—fructify. He is, therefore, with + us in this somewhat unpleasant predicament in which we find ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it short,” Masters growled. “I’m sick of so much talk. What’s it all + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It means simply this, Mr. Masters,” Sir Richard said, “we want you to + take six months’ bills for our indebtedness to you.” + </p> + <p> + Masters rose to his feet. His thick lips were drawn a little apart. He had + the appearance of a savage and discontented animal. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s why I’ve been asked here and fed up with wine and stuff, eh?” + he exclaimed thickly. “Well, my answer to you is soon given. NO! I’ll take + bills from no man! My terms are cash on settling day—cash to pay or + cash to receive. I’ll have no other!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard rose also to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Masters, I beg of you to be reasonable,” he said. “You will do + yourself no good by adopting this attitude. Facts are facts. We haven’t + got a thousand pounds between us.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve heard that sort of a tale before,” Masters answered, with a sneer. + “Job Masters is too old a bird to be caught by such chaff. I’ll take my + risks, gentlemen. I’ll take my risks.” + </p> + <p> + He moved toward the door. No one spoke a word. The silence as he crossed + the room seemed a little ominous. He looked over his shoulder. They were + all three standing in their places, looking at him. A vague sense of + uneasiness disturbed his equanimity. + </p> + <p> + “No offence, gents,” he said, “and good afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + Still no reply. He reached the door and turned the handle. The door was + fast. He shook it—gently at first, and then violently. Suddenly he + realized that it was locked. He turned sharply around. + </p> + <p> + “What game’s this?” he exclaimed, fiercely. “Let me out!” + </p> + <p> + They stood in their places without movement. There was something a little + ominous in their silence. Masters was fast becoming a sober man. + </p> + <p> + “Let me out of here,” he exclaimed, “or I’ll break the door down!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard Dyson came slowly towards him. There was something in his + appearance which terrified Masters. He raised his fist to strike the door. + He was a fighting man, but he felt a sudden sense of impotence. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Masters,” Sir Richard said suavely, “the truth is that we cannot + afford to let you go—unless you agree to do what we have asked. You + see we really have not the money or any way of raising it—and the + inconvenience of being posted you have yourself very ably pointed out. + Change your mind, Mr. Masters. Take those bills. We’ll do our best to meet + them.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Masters answered, striking the door + fiercely with his clenched fist. “I’ll have cash—nothing but the + cash!” + </p> + <p> + There was a dull, sickening thud, and the bookmaker went over like a shot + rabbit. His legs twitched for a moment—a little moan that was + scarcely audible broke from his lips. Then he lay quite still. Sir Richard + bent over him with the life preserver still in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done it!” he muttered, hoarsely. “One blow! Thank Heaven, he didn’t + want another! His skull was as soft as pudding! Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + He turned away. The man who lay stretched upon the floor was an ugly + sight. His two companions, cowering over the table, were not much better. + Dyson’s trembling fingers went out for the brandy decanter. Half of what + he poured out was spilled upon the tablecloth. The rest he drank from a + tumbler, neat. + </p> + <p> + “It’s nervous work, this, you fellows,” he said, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “It’s hellish!” Dickinson answered. “Let’s have some air in the room. By + God, it’s close!” + </p> + <p> + He sank back into his chair, white to the lips. Dyson looked at him + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he exclaimed, “I hold you both to our bargain! I was to be + the one he attacked and who struck the blow—in self-defence! + Remember that—it was in self-defence! I’ve done it! I’ve done my + share! I hope to God I’ll forget it some day. Andrew, you know your task. + Be a man, and get to work!” + </p> + <p> + Dickinson rose to his feet unsteadily. “Yes!” he said. “What was it? I + have forgotten, for the moment, but I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “You must get his betting book from his pocket,” Sir Richard directed. + “Then you must help Merries downstairs with him, and into the car. Merries + is—to get rid of him.” + </p> + <p> + Merries shivered. His hand, too, went out for the brandy. + </p> + <p> + “To get rid of him,” he muttered. “It sounds easy!” + </p> + <p> + “It is easy,” Sir Richard declared. “You have only to keep your nerve, and + the thing is done. No one will see him inside the car, in that motoring + coat and glasses. You can drive somewhere out into the country and leave + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him!” Merries repeated, trembling. “Leave him—yes!” + </p> + <p> + Neither of the two men moved. + </p> + <p> + “I must do more than my share, I suppose,” Sir Richard declared + contemptuously. “Come!” + </p> + <p> + They dragged the man’s body on to a chair, wrapped a huge coat around him, + tied a motoring cap under his chin, fixed goggles over his eyes. Sir + Richard strolled into the hall and opened the front door. He stood there + for a moment, looking up and down the street. When he gave the signal they + dragged him out, supported between them, across the pavement, into the + car. Ugh! His attitude was so natural as to be absolutely ghastly. Merries + started the car and sprang into the driver’s seat. There were people in + the Square now, but the figure reclining in the dark, cushioned interior + looked perfectly natural. + </p> + <p> + “So long, Jimmy,” Sir Richard called out. “See you this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Right O!” Merries replied, with a brave effort. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff, summoned by telephone from his sitting room, slipped down the + stairs like a cat—noiseless, swift. The voice which had summoned him + had been the voice of his secretary—a voice almost unrecognisable—a + voice shaken with fear. Fear? No, it had been terror! + </p> + <p> + On the landing below, exactly underneath the room from which he had + descended, there was a door upon which his name was written upon a small + brass plate—Mr. Peter Ruff. He opened and closed it behind him with + a swift movement which he had practised in his idle moments. He found + himself looking in upon a curious scene. + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown, with the radiance of her hair effectually concealed, in plain + black skirt and simple blouse—the ideal secretary—had risen + from the seat in front of her typewriter, and was standing facing the door + through which he had entered, with a small revolver—which he had + given her for a birthday present only the day before—clasped in her + outstretched hand. The object of her solicitude was, it seemed to Peter + Ruff, the most pitiful-looking object upon which he had ever looked. The + hours had dwelt with Merries as the years with some people, and worse. He + had lost his cap; his hair hung over his forehead in wild confusion; his + eyes were red, bloodshot, and absolutely aflame with the terrors through + which he had lived—underneath them the black marks might have been + traced with a charcoal pencil. His cheeks were livid save for one burning + spot. His clothes, too, were in disorder—the starch had gone from + his collar, his tie hung loosely outside his waistcoat. He was cowering + back against the wall. And between him and the girl, stretched upon the + floor, was the body of a man in a huge motor coat, a limp, inert mass + which neither moved nor seemed to have any sign of life. No wonder that + Peter Ruff looked around his office, whose serenity had been so tragically + disturbed, with an air of mild surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” he exclaimed, “something seems to have happened! My dear + Violet, you can put that revolver away. I have secured the door.” + </p> + <p> + Her hand fell to her side. She gave a little shiver of relief. Peter Ruff + nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That is more comfortable,” he declared. “Now, perhaps, you will explain—” + </p> + <p> + “That young man,” she interrupted, “or lunatic—whatever he calls + himself—burst in here a few minutes ago, dragging—that!” She + pointed to the motionless figure upon the floor. “If I had not stopped + him, he would have bolted off without a word of explanation.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff, with his back against the door, shook his head gravely. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lord Merries,” he said, “my office is not a mortuary.” + </p> + <p> + Merries gasped. + </p> + <p> + “You know me, then?” he muttered, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” Ruff answered. “It is my profession to know everybody. Go and + sit down upon that easy-chair, and drink the brandy and soda which Miss + Brown is about to mix for you. That’s right.” + </p> + <p> + Merries staggered across the room and half fell into an easy-chair. He + leaned over the side with his face buried in his hands, unable still to + face the horror which lay upon the floor. A few seconds later, the tumbler + of brandy and soda was in his hands. He drank it like a man who drains + fresh life into his veins. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps now,” Peter Ruff suggested, pointing to the motionless figure, + “you can give me some explanation as to this!” + </p> + <p> + Merries looked away from him all the time he was speaking. His voice was + thick and nervous. + </p> + <p> + “There were three of us lunching together,” he began—“four in all. + There was a dispute, and this man threatened us. Afterwards there was a + fight. It fell to my lot to take him away, and I can’t get rid of him! I + can’t get rid of him!” he repeated, with something that sounded like a + sob. + </p> + <p> + “I still do not see,” Peter Ruff argued, “why you should have brought him + here and deposited him upon my perfectly new carpet.” + </p> + <p> + “You are Peter Ruff,” Merries declared. “‘Crime Investigator and Private + Detective,’ you call yourself. You are used to this sort of thing. You + will know what to do with it. It is part of your business.” + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you,” Peter Ruff answered, “that you are under a delusion as + to the details of my profession. I am Peter Ruff,” he admitted, “and I + call myself a crime investigator—in fact, I am the only one worth + speaking of in the world. But I certainly deny that I am used to having + dead bodies deposited upon my carpet, and that I make a habit of disposing + of them—especially gratis.” + </p> + <p> + Merries tore open his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, his voice shaking hysterically, “I must get rid of it + or go mad. For two hours I have been driving about in a motor car with—it + for a passenger. I drove to a quiet spot and I tried to lift it out—a + policeman rode up! I tried again, a man rushed by on a motor cycle, and + turned to look at me! I tried a few minutes later—the policeman came + back! It was always the same. The night seemed to have eyes. I was watched + everywhere. The—the face began to mock me. I’ll swear that I heard + it chuckle once!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff moved a little further away. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I’ll have anything to do with it,” he declared. “I don’t + like your description at all.” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be all right with you,” Merries declared eagerly. “It’s my nerves, + that’s all. You see, I was there—when the accident happened. See + here,” he added, tearing a pocketbook from his coat, “I have three hundred + and seventy pounds saved up in case I had to bolt. I’ll keep seventy—three + hundred for you—to dispose of it!” + </p> + <p> + Ruff leaned over the motionless body, looked into its face, and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Masters, the bookmaker,” he remarked. “H’m! I did hear that he had a lot + of money coming to him over the Cambridgeshire.” + </p> + <p> + Merries shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “May I go?” he pleaded. “There’s the three hundred on the table. For God’s + sake, let me go!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you’d saved a little more,” he said. “However—” + </p> + <p> + He turned the lock and Merries rushed out of the room. Ruff looked across + the room towards his secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Ring up 1535 Central,” he ordered, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff had descended from his apartments on the top floor of the + building, in a new brown suit with which he was violently displeased, to + meet a caller. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to intrude—Mr. Ruff, I believe it is?” Sir Richard Dyson + said, a little irritably—“but I have not a great deal of time to + spare—” + </p> + <p> + “Most natural!” Peter Ruff declared. “Pray take a chair, Sir Richard. You + want to know, of course, about Lord Merries and poor Masters.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard stared at his questioner, for a moment, without speech. Once + more the fear which he had succeeded in banishing for a while, shone in + his eyes—revealed itself in his white face. + </p> + <p> + “Try the easy-chair, Sir Richard,” Ruff continued, pleasantly. “Leave your + hat and cane on the table there, and make yourself comfortable. I should + like to understand exactly what you have come to me for.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard moved his head toward Miss Brown. + </p> + <p> + “My business with you,” he said, “is more than ordinarily private. I have + the honour of knowing Miss—” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Brown,” Peter interrupted quickly. “In these offices, this young + lady’s name is Miss Violet Brown.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “It is of no importance,” he said, “only, as you may understand, my + business with you scarcely requires the presence of a third party, even + one with the discretion which I am sure Miss—Brown possesses.” + </p> + <p> + “In these matters,” Ruff answered, “my secretary does not exist apart from + myself. Her presence is necessary. She takes down in shorthand notes of + our conversation. I have a shocking memory, and there are always points + which I forget. At the conclusion of our business, whatever it may be, + these notes are destroyed. I could not work without them, however.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard glanced a little doubtfully at the long, slim back of the girl + who sat with her face turned away from him. “Of course,” he began, “if you + make yourself personally responsible for her discretion—” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing to do so,” Ruff interrupted, brusquely. “I guarantee it. Go + on, please.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, of course, where you got your information from,” Sir + Richard began, “but it is perfectly true that I have come here to consult + you upon a matter in which the two people whose names you have mentioned + are concerned. The disappearance of Job Masters is, of course, common + talk; but I cannot tell what has led you to associate with it the + temporary absence of Lord Merries from this country.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me ask you this question,” Ruff said. “How are you affected by the + disappearance of Masters?” + </p> + <p> + “Indirectly, it has caused me a great deal of inconvenience,” Sir Richard + declared. + </p> + <p> + “Facts, please,” murmured Peter. + </p> + <p> + “It has been rumoured,” Sir Richard admitted, “that I owed Masters a large + sum of money which I could not pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “It has also been rumoured,” Sir Richard continued, “that he was seen to + enter my house that day, and that he remained there until late in the + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?” asked Ruff. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” Sir Richard answered. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff yawned for a moment, but covered the indiscretion with his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Respecting this inconvenience,” he said, “which you admit that the + disappearance of Job Masters has caused you, what is its tangible side?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard drew his chair a little nearer to the table where Ruff was + sitting. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “It seems absurd,” he said, “and yet, what I tell you is the truth. I have + been followed about—shadowed, in fact—for several days. Men, + even in my own social circle, seem to hold aloof from me. It is as + though,” he continued slowly, “people were beginning to suspect me of + being connected in some way with the man’s disappearance.” + </p> + <p> + Ruff, who had been making figures with a pencil on the edge of his + blotting paper, suddenly turned round. His eyes flashed with a new light + as they became fixed upon his companion’s. + </p> + <p> + “And are you not?” he asked, calmly. Sir Richard bore himself well. For a + moment he had shrunk back. Then he half rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ruff!” he said. “I must protest—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff used no violent gesture. Only his forefinger tapped the desk in + front of him. His voice was as smooth as velvet. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me as much or as little as you please, Sir Richard,” he said, “but + let that little or that much be the truth! On those terms only I may be + able to help you. You do not go to your physician and expect him to + prescribe to you while you conceal your symptoms, or to your lawyer for + advice and tell him half the truth. I am not asking for your confidence. I + simply tell you that you are wasting your time and mine if you choose to + withhold it.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard was silent. He recognized a new quality in the man—but + the truth was an awful thing to tell! He considered—then told. + </p> + <p> + Ruff briskly asked two questions. “In alluding to your heavy settlement + with Masters, you said just now that you could not have paid him—then.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” Sir Richard admitted. “That is the rotten part of the whole + affair. Four days later a wonderful double came off—one in which we + were all interested, and one which not one of us expected. We’ve drawn a + considerable amount already from one or two bookies, and I believe even + Masters owes us a bit now.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” Ruff said. “I think that I know everything now. My fee is + five hundred guineas.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred guineas,” Ruff repeated. + </p> + <p> + “For a consultation?” Sir Richard asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “More than that,” he said. “You are a brave man in your way, Sir Richard + Dyson, but you are going about now shivering under a load of fear. It sits + like a devil incarnate upon your shoulders. It poisons the air wherever + you go. Write your cheque, Sir Richard, and you can leave that little + black devil in my wastebasket. You are under my protection. Nothing will + happen to you.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard sat like a man mesmerised. The little man with the amiable + expression and the badly fitting suit was leaning back in his chair, his + finger tips pressed together, waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing will happen!” Sir Richard repeated, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. I guarantee you against any inconvenience which might + arise to you from this recent unfortunate affair. Isn’t that all you + want?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s all I want, certainly,” Sir Richard declared, “but I must understand + a little how you propose to secure my immunity.” + </p> + <p> + Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I have my own methods,” he said. “I can help only those who trust me.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard drew a cheque book from his pocket. “I don’t know why I should + believe in you,” he said, as he wrote the cheque. + </p> + <p> + “But you do,” Peter Ruff said, smiling. “Fortunately for you, you do!” + </p> + <p> + It was not so easy to impart a similar confidence into the breast of + Colonel Dickinson, with whom Sir Richard dined that night tete-a-tete. + Dickinson was inclined to think that Sir Richard ad been “had.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve paid a ridiculous fee,” he argued, “and all that you have in + return is the fellow’s promise to see you through. It isn’t like you to + part with money so easily, Richard. Did he hypnotise you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so,” Sir Richard answered. “I wasn’t conscious of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a fellow is he?” Dickinson asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard looked reflectively into his glass. + </p> + <p> + “He’s a vulgar sort of little Johnny,” he said. “Looks as though he were + always dressed in new clothes and couldn’t get used to them.” + </p> + <p> + Three men entered the room. Two remained in the background. John Dory came + forward towards the table. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Richard Dyson,” he said, gravely, “I have come upon an unpleasant + errand.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” Sir Richard said, fingering something hard inside pocket of his + coat. + </p> + <p> + “I have a warrant for your arrest,” Dory continued, “in connection with + the disappearance of Job Masters on Saturday, the 10th of November last. I + will read the terms of the warrant, if you choose. It is my duty to warn + you that anything you may now say can be used in evidence against you. + This gentleman, I believe, is Colonel Dickinson?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my name, sir,” Dickinson answered, with unexpected fortitude. + </p> + <p> + “I regret to say,” the detective continued, “that I have also a warrant + for your arrest in connection with the same matter.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard had hold of the butt end of his revolver then. Like grisly + phantoms, the thoughts chased one another through his brain. Should he + shoot and end it—pass into black nothingness—escape disgrace, + but die like a rat in a corner? His finger was upon the trigger. Then + suddenly his heart gave a great leap. He raised his head as though + listening. Something flashed in his eyes—something that was almost + like hope. There was no mistaking that voice which he had heard in the + hall! He made a great rally. + </p> + <p> + “I can only conclude,” he said, turning to the detective, “that you have + made some absurd blunder. If you really possess the warrants you speak of, + however, Colonel Dickinson and I will accompany you wherever you choose.” + </p> + <p> + Then the door opened and Peter Ruff walked in, followed by Job Masters, + whose head was still bandaged, and who seemed to have lost a little flesh + and a lot of colour. Peter Ruff looked round apologetically. He seemed + surprised not to find Sir Richard Dyson and Colonel Dickinson alone. He + seemed more than ever surprised to recognize Dory. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” he said smoothly, “that our visit is not inopportune. Sir + Richard Dyson, I believe?” he continued, bowing—“my friend, Mr. + Masters here, has consulted me as to the loss of a betting book, and we + ventured to call to ask you, sir, if by any chance on his recent visit to + your house—” + </p> + <p> + “God in Heaven, it’s Masters!” Dyson exclaimed. “It’s Job Masters!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s me, sir,” Masters admitted. “Mr. Ruff thought you might be able to + help me find that book.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard swayed upon his feet. Then the blood rushed once more through + his veins. + </p> + <p> + “Your book’s here in my cabinet, safe enough,” he said. “You left it here + after our luncheon that day. Where on earth have you been to, man?” he + continued. “We want some money from you over Myopia.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll pay all right, sir,” Masters answered. “Fact is, after our luncheon + party I’m afraid I got a bit fuddled. I don’t seem to remember much.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down a little heavily. Peter Ruff hastened to the table and took up + a glass. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me if I give him a little brandy, won’t you, sir?” he + said. “He’s really not quite fit for getting about yet, but he was + worrying about his book.” + </p> + <p> + “Give him all the brandy he can drink,” Sir Richard answered. + </p> + <p> + The detective’s face had been a study. He knew Masters well enough by + sight—there was no doubt about his identity! His teeth came together + with an angry little click. He had made a mistake! It was a thing which + would be remembered against him forever! It was as bad as his failure to + arrest that young man at Daisy Villa. + </p> + <p> + “Your visit, Masters,” Sir Richard said, with a curious smile at the + corners of his lips, “is, in some respects, a little opportune. About that + little matter we were speaking of,” he continued, turning towards the + detective. + </p> + <p> + “We have only to offer you our apologies, Sir Richard,” Dory answered. + </p> + <p> + Then he crossed the room and confronted Peter Ruff. + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand, sir, that your name is Ruff—Peter Ruff?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That is my name, sir,” Peter Ruff admitted, pleasantly “Yours I believe, + is Dory. We are likely to come across one another now and then, I suppose. + Glad to know you.” + </p> + <p> + The detective stood quite still, and there was no geniality in his face. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder—have we ever met before?” he asked, without removing his + eyes from the other’s face. Peter Ruff smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Not professionally, at any rate,” he answered. “I know that Scotland Yard + you don’t think much of us small fry, but we find out things sometimes!” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you contradict all those rumours as to his disappearance?” the + detective asked, pointing to where Job Masters was contentedly sipping his + brandy and water. + </p> + <p> + “I was acting for my client, and in my own interests,” replied Peter. “It + was surely no part of my duty to save you gentlemen at Scotland Yard from + hunting up mare’s nests!” + </p> + <p> + John Dory went out, followed by his men. Sir Richard took Peter Ruff by + the arm, and, leading him to the sideboard, mixed him a drink. + </p> + <p> + “Peter Ruff,” he said, “you’re a clever scoundrel, but you’ve earned your + five hundred guineas. Hang it, you’re welcome to them! Is there anything + else I can do for you?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff raised his glass and set it down again. Once more he eyed with + admiration his client’s well-turned out figure. + </p> + <p> + “You might give me a letter to your tailors, Sir Richard,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard laughed outright—it was some time since he had laughed! + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it, Peter Ruff,” he declared, raising his glass—“and + here’s to you!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. VINCENT CAWDOR, COMMISSION AGENT + </h2> + <p> + For the second time since their new association, Peter Ruff had surprised + that look upon his secretary’s face. This time he wheeled around in his + chair and addressed her. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Violet,” he said, “be frank with me. What is wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown turned to face her employer. Save for a greater demureness of + expression and the extreme simplicity of her attire, she had changed very + little since she had given up her life of comparative luxury to become + Peter Ruff’s secretary. There was a sort of personal elegance which clung + to her, notwithstanding her strenuous attempts to dress for her part, + except for which she looked precisely as a private secretary and typist + should look. She even wore a black bow at the back of her hair. + </p> + <p> + “I have not complained, have I?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do not waste time,” Peter Ruff said, coldly. “Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not enough to do,” she said. “I do not understand why you refuse + so many cases.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I did not bring my talents into this business,” he said, “to watch + flirting wives, to ascertain the haunts of gay husbands, or to detect the + pilferings of servants.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything is better than sitting still,” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “I do not agree with you,” Peter Ruff said. “I like sitting still very + much indeed—one has time to think. Is there anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I really go on?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “I have idea,” she continued, “that you are subordinating your general + interests to your secret enmity—to one man. You are waiting until + you can find another case in which you are pitted against him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” Peter Ruff said, “your intelligence surprises me!” + </p> + <p> + “I came to you,” she continued, looking at him earnestly, “for two + reasons. The personal one I will not touch upon. The other was my love of + excitement. I have tried many things in life, as you know, Peter, but I + have seemed to carry always with me the heritage of weariness. I thought + that my position here would help me to fight against it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen me bring a corpse to life,” Peter Ruff reminded her, a + little aggrieved. + </p> + <p> + She smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It was a month ago,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t do that sort of thing every day,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” she answered; “but you have refused four cases within the + last five days.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff whistled softly to himself for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “Seen anything of our new neighbour in the flat above?” he asked, with + apparent irrelevance. + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown looked across at him with upraised eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “I have been in the lift with him twice,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy his appearance?” Ruff asked, casually. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least!” Violet answered. “I thought him a vulgar, offensive + person!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff chuckled. He seemed immensely delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vincent Cawdor he calls himself, I believe,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” Miss Brown declared. The subject did not appeal to her. + </p> + <p> + “His name is on a small copper plate just over the letter-box,” Ruff said. + “Rather neat idea, by the bye. He calls himself a commission agent, I + believe.” + </p> + <p> + Violet was suddenly interested. She realized, after all, that Mr. Vincent + Cawdor might be a person of some importance. + </p> + <p> + “What is a commission agent?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It might mean anything,” he declared. “Never trust any one who is not a + little more explicit as to his profession. I am afraid that this Mr. + Vincent Cawdor, for instance, is a bad lot.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure he is,” Miss Brown declared. + </p> + <p> + “Looks after a pretty girl, coughs in the lift—all that sort of + thing, eh?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Disgusting!” she exclaimed, with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff sighed, and glanced at the clock. The existence of Mr. Vincent + Cawdor seemed to pass out of his mind. + </p> + <p> + “It is nearly one o’clock,” he said. “Where do you usually lunch, Violet?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon my appetite,” she answered, carelessly. “Most often at an + A B C.” + </p> + <p> + “To-day,” Peter Ruff said, “you will be extravagant—at my expense.” + </p> + <p> + “I had a poor breakfast,” Miss Brown remarked, complacently. + </p> + <p> + “You will leave at once,” Peter Ruff said, “and you will go to the French + Cafe at the Milan. Get a table facing the courtyard, and towards the hotel + side of the room. Keep your eyes open and tell me exactly what you see.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with parted lips. Her eyes were full of eager + questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Mere skirmishing,” Peter Ruff continued, “but I think—yes, I think + that it may lead to something.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom am I to watch?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Any one who looks interesting,” Peter Ruff answered. “For instance, if + this person Vincent Cawdor should be about.” + </p> + <p> + “He would recognize me!” she declared. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “One must hold the candle,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I decline to flirt with him,” she declared. “Nothing would induce me to + be pleasant to such an odious creature.” + </p> + <p> + “He will be too busy to attempt anything of the sort. Of course he may not + be there. It may be the merest fancy on my part. At any rate, you may rely + upon it that he will not make any overtures in a public place like the + Milan. Mr. Vincent Cawdor may be a curious sort of person, but I do not + fancy that he is a fool!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Miss Brown said, “I will go.” + </p> + <p> + “Be back soon after three,” Peter Ruff said. “I am going up to my room to + do my exercises.” + </p> + <p> + “And afterwards?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have my lunch sent in,” he answered. “Don’t hurry back, though. I + shall not expect you till a quarter past three.” + </p> + <p> + It was a few minutes past that time when Miss Brown returned. Peter Ruff + was sitting at his desk, looking as though he had never moved. He was + absorbed by a book of patterns sent in by his new tailor, and he only + glanced up when she entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, earnestly, “come in and sit down. I want to consult + you. There is a new material here—a sort of mouse-coloured cheviot. + I wonder whether it would suit me?” + </p> + <p> + Violet was looking very handsome and a little flushed. She raised her veil + and came over to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Put that stupid book away, Peter,” she said. “I want to tell you about + the Milan.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said. “I had forgotten! Was Mr. Vincent Cawdor there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she answered, still a little breathless. “There was some one else + there, too, in whom you are still more interested.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Vincent Cawdor,” she continued, “came in alone. He looked just as + objectionable as ever, and he stared at me till I nearly threw my wine + glass at him.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not speak to you?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid that he was going to,” Miss Brown said, “but fortunately he + met a friend who came to his table and lunched with him.” + </p> + <p> + “A friend,” Ruff remarked. “Good! What was he like?” + </p> + <p> + “Fair, slight, Teutonic,” Miss Brown answered. “He wore thick spectacles, + and his moustache was positively yellow.” + </p> + <p> + Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Towards the end of luncheon,” she continued, “an American came up to + them.” + </p> + <p> + “An American?” Peter Ruff interrupted. “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown smiled. + </p> + <p> + “He was clean-shaven and he wore neat clothes,” she said. “He talked with + an accent you could have cut with a knife and he had a Baedeker sticking + out of his pocket. After luncheon, they all three went away to the smoking + room.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Anything else?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she declared. “There was something else—something which I + think you will find interesting. At the next table to me there was a man—alone. + Can you guess who he was?” + </p> + <p> + “John Dory,” Ruff said, calmly. + </p> + <p> + The girl was disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “You knew!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Violet,” he said, “I did not send you there on a fool’s errand.” + </p> + <p> + “There is something doing, then?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “There is likely,” he answered, grimly, “to be a great deal doing!” + </p> + <p> + The two men who stood upon the hill, and Peter Ruff, who lay upon his + stomach behind a huge boulder, looked upon a new thing. + </p> + <p> + Far down in the valley from out of a black shed—the only sign of + man’s handiwork for many miles—it came—something grey at + first, moving slowly as though being pushed down a slight incline, then + afloat in the air, gathering speed—something between a torpedo with + wings and a great prehistoric insect. Now and then it described strange + circles, but mostly it came towards them as swift and as true as an arrow + shot from a bow. The two men looked at one another—the shorter, to + whose cheeks the Cumberland winds had brought no trace of colour, gave + vent to a hoarse exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “He’s done it!” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” the other answered. + </p> + <p> + Over their heads the thing wheeled, and seemed to stand still in the air. + The beating of the engine was so faint that Peter Ruff from behind the + boulder, could hear all that was said. A man leaned out from his seat—a + man with wan cheeks but blazing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said. “Take your glasses. There—due north—can you + see a steeple?” + </p> + <p> + The men turned their field glasses in the direction toward which the other + pointed. “Yes!” they answered. “It is sixteen miles, as the crow flies, to + Barnham Church—thirty-two miles there and back. Wait!” + </p> + <p> + He swung round, dived till he seemed about to touch the hillside, then + soared upwards and straight away. Peter Ruff took out his watch. The other + two men gazed with fascinated eyes after the disappearing speck. + </p> + <p> + “If he does it—” the shorter one muttered. + </p> + <p> + “He will do it!” the other answered. + </p> + <p> + He was back again before their eyes were weary of watching. Peter Ruff, + from behind the boulder, closed his watch. Thirty-two miles in less than + half an hour! The youth leaned from his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Is it enough?” he asked, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “It is enough!” the two men answered together. “We will come down.” + </p> + <p> + The youth touched a lever and the machine glided down towards the valley, + falling all the while with the effortless grace a parachute. The shed from + which his machine had issued was midway down a slope, with a short length + of rails which ran, apparently, through it. The machine seemed to hover + for several moments above the building, then descended slowly on to the + rails and disappeared in the shed. The two men were already half-way down + the hill. Peter Ruff rose from behind the boulder, stretched himself with + a sense of immense relief, and lit a pipe. As yet he dared not descend. He + simply changed his hiding place for a spot which enabled him to command a + view of the handful of cottages at the back of the hill. He had plenty to + think about. It was a wonderful thing—this—which he had seen! + </p> + <p> + The youth, meanwhile, was drinking deep of the poisonous cup. He walked + between the two men—his cheeks were flushed, his eyes on fire. + </p> + <p> + “If all the world to-day had seen what we have seen,” the older man was + saying, “there would be no more talk of Wilbur Wrights or Farmans. Those + men are babies, playing with their toys.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine is the ideal principle,” the youth declared. “No one else has + thought of it, no one else has made use of it. Yet all the time I am + afraid—it is so simple.” + </p> + <p> + “Sell quick, then,” the fair-headed man advised. “By to-morrow night I can + promise you fifty thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + The youth stopped. He drew a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + “I shall sell,” he declared. “I need money. I want to live. Fifty thousand + pounds is enough. Eleven weary months I have slept and toiled there in the + shed.” + </p> + <p> + “It is finished,” the older man declared. “To-night you shall come with us + to London. To-morrow night your pockets shall be full of gold. It will be + a change for you.” + </p> + <p> + The youth sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “God knows it will,” he muttered. “I haven’t two shillings in the world, + and I owe for my last petrol.” + </p> + <p> + The two men laughed heartily. The elder took a little bundle of notes from + his pocket and handed them to the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “not for another moment shall you feel as poor as that. + Money will have no value for you in the future. The fifty thousand pounds + will only be a start. After that, you will get royalties. If I had it, I + would give you a quarter of a million now for your plans; I know that I + can get you more.” + </p> + <p> + The youth laughed hysterically. They entered the tiny inn and drank + home-made wine—the best they could get. Then a great car drew up + outside, and the older—the clean-shaven man, who looked like an + American—hurried out, and dragging a hamper from beneath the seat + returned with a gold-foiled bottle in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “a toast! We have one bottle left—one bottle of the + best!” + </p> + <p> + “Champagne!” the youth cried eagerly, holding out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “The only wine for the conquerors,” the other declared, pouring it out + into the thick tumblers. “Drink, all of you, to the Franklin Flying + Machine, to the millions she will earn—to to-morrow night!” + </p> + <p> + The youth drained his glass, watched it replenished, and drained it again. + Then they went out to the car. + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing yet to be done,” he said. “Wait here for me.” + </p> + <p> + They waited whilst he climbed up toward the shed. The two men watched him. + A little group of rustics stood open-mouthed around the great car. Then + there was a little shout. From above their heads came the sound of a great + explosion—red flames were leaping up from that black barn to the + sky. The two men looked at one another. They rushed to the hill and met + the youth descending. + </p> + <p> + “What the—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped them. + </p> + <p> + “I dared not leave it here,” he explained. “It would have been madness. I + am perfectly certain that I have been watched during the last few days. I + can build another in a week. I have the plans in my pocket for every + part.” + </p> + <p> + The older man wiped the perspiration from his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “You are sure—that you have the plans?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The youth struck himself on the chest. + </p> + <p> + “They are here,” he answered, “every one of them!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are right, then,” the other man answered. “It gave me a turn, + though. You are sure that you can make it again in the time you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” the youth answered, impatiently. “Besides, the thing is so + simple. It speaks for itself.” + </p> + <p> + They climbed into the car, and in a few minutes were rushing away + southwards. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow night—to-morrow night it all begins!” the youth + continued. “I must start with ready-made clothes. I’ll get the best I can, + eat the best I can, drink wine, go to the music halls. To-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + His speech ended in a wail—a strange, half-stifled cry which rang + out with a chill, ghostly sound upon the black silence. His face was + covered with a wet towel, a ghastly odor was in his nostrils, his lips + refused to utter any further sound. He lay back among the cushions, + senseless. The car slowed down. + </p> + <p> + “Get the papers, quick!” the elder man muttered, opening the youth’s coat. + “Here they are! Catch hold, Dick! My God! What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + He shook from head to foot. The little fair man looked at him with + contempt. + </p> + <p> + “A sheep bell on the moor,” he said. “Are you sure you have everything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” the other muttered. + </p> + <p> + They both stood up and raised the prostrate form between them. Below them + were the black waters of the lake. + </p> + <p> + “Over with him!” the younger said. “Quick!” + </p> + <p> + Once more his companion shrank away. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” he muttered, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + They both held their breaths. From somewhere along the road behind came a + faint sound like the beating of an engine. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a car!” the elder man exclaimed. “Quick! Over with him!” + </p> + <p> + They lifted the body of the boy, whose lips were white and speechless now, + and threw him into the water. With a great splash he disappeared. They + watched for a moment. Only the ripples flowed away from the place where he + had sunk. They jumped back to their seats. + </p> + <p> + “There’s something close behind,” the older man muttered. “Get on! Fast! + Fast!” + </p> + <p> + The younger man hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “it would be better to wait and see who it is + coming up behind. Our young friend there is safe. The current has him, and + the tarn is bottomless.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s indecision—a moment which was to count for much + in the lives of three men. Then the elder one’s counsels prevailed. They + crept away down the hill, smoothly and noiselessly. Behind them, the faint + throbbing grew less and less distinct. Soon they heard it no more. They + drove into the dawn and through the long day. + </p> + <p> + Side by side on one of the big leather couches in the small smoking room + of the Milan Hotel, Mr. James P. Rounceby and his friend Mr. Richard + Marnstam sat whispering together. It was nearly two o clock, and they were + alone in the room. Some of the lights had been turned out. The roar of + life in the streets without had ceased. It was an uneasy hour for those + whose consciences were not wholly at rest! + </p> + <p> + The two men were in evening dress—Rounceby in dinner coat and black + tie, as befitted his role of travelling American. The glasses in front of + them were only half-filled, and had remained so for the last hour. Their + conversation had been nervous and spasmodic. It was obvious that they were + waiting for some one. + </p> + <p> + Three o’clock struck by the little timepiece on the mantel shelf. A little + exclamation of a profane nature broke from Rounceby’s lips. He leaned + toward his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he muttered, in a rather thick undertone, “how about this fellow + Vincent Cawdor? You haven’t any doubts about him, I suppose? He’s on the + square, all right, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Marnstam wet his lips nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Cawdor’s all right,” he said. “I had it direct from headquarters at + Paris. What are you uneasy about, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Rounceby pointed towards the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see the time?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He said he’d be late,” Marnstam answered. + </p> + <p> + Rounceby put his hand to his forehead and found it moist. + </p> + <p> + “It’s been a silly game, all along,” he muttered. “We’d better have + brought the young ass up here and jostled him!” + </p> + <p> + “Not so easy,” Marnstam answered. “These young fools have a way of turning + obstinate. He’d have chucked us, sure. Anyhow, he’s safer where he is.” + </p> + <p> + They relapsed once more into silence. A storm of rain beat upon the + window. Rounceby glanced up. It was as black out there as were the waters + of that silent tarn! The man shivered as the thought struck him. Marnstam, + who had no nerves, twirled his moustache and watched his companion with + wonder. + </p> + <p> + “You look as though you saw a ghost,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I do!” Rounceby growled. + </p> + <p> + “You had better finish your drink, my dear fellow,” Marnstam advised. + “Afterwards—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stiffened into attention. He laid his hand upon his + companion’s knee. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” he said. “There is some one coming.” + </p> + <p> + They leaned a little forward. The swing doors were opened. A girl’s + musical laugh rang out from the corridor. Tall and elegant, with her black + lace skirt trailing upon the floor, her left hand resting upon the + shoulder of the man into whose ear she was whispering, and whom she led + straight to one of the writing tables, Miss Violet Brown swept into the + room. On her right, and nearest to the two men, was Mr. Vincent Cawdor. + </p> + <p> + “Now you can go and talk to your friends!” she exclaimed, lightly. “I am + going to make Victor listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + Cawdor left his two companions and sank on to the couch by Rounceby’s + side. The young man, with his opera hat still on his head, and the light + overcoat which he had been carrying on the floor by his side, was seated + before the writing table with his back to them. Miss Brown was leaning + over him, with her hand upon the back of his chair. They were out of + hearing of the other three men. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rounceby, my friend,” Mr. Vincent Cawdor remarked, cheerfully, + “you’re having a late sitting, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “We’ve been waiting for you, you fool!” Rounceby answered. “What on earth + are you thinking about, bringing a crowd like this about with you, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Cawdor smiled, reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you worry,” he said, in a lower tone. “I know my way in and out of + the ropes here better than you can teach me. A big hotel like this is the + safest and the most dangerous place in the world—just how you choose + to make it. You’ve got to bluff ‘em all the time. That’s why I brought the + young lady—particular friend of mine—real nice girl, too!” + </p> + <p> + “And the young man?” Rounceby asked, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + Cawdor grew more serious. + </p> + <p> + “That’s Captain Lowther,” he said softly—“private secretary to + Colonel Dean, who’s the chief of the aeronaut department at Aldershot. He + has a draft in his pocket for twenty thousand pounds. It is yours if he is + satisfied with the plans.” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty thousand pounds!” Marnstam said, thoughtfully. “It is very little—very + little indeed for the risks which we have run!” + </p> + <p> + Cawdor moved his place and sat between the men. He laid a hand upon + Marnstam’s shoulder—another on Rounceby’s knee. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friends,” he said, impressively, “if you could have built a + model, or conducted these negotiations in the usual way, you might have + asked a million. As it is, I think I am the only man in England who could + have dealt with this matter—so satisfactorily.” + </p> + <p> + Rounceby glanced suspiciously at the young man to whom Miss Brown was + still devoting the whole of her attention. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t he come out and talk like a man?” he asked. “What’s the idea of + his sitting over there with his back to us?” + </p> + <p> + “I want him never to see your faces—to deal only with me,” Cawdor + explained. “Remember that he is in an official position. The money he is + going to part with is secret service money.” + </p> + <p> + The two men were beginning to be more reassured. Rounceby slowly produced + a roll of oilskin from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll look at them as he sits there,” he insisted. “There must be no + copying or making notes, mind.” + </p> + <p> + Cawdor smiled in a superior fashion. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he said, “you are dealing with the emissary of a + government—not one of your own sort.” + </p> + <p> + Rounceby glanced at his companion, who nodded. Then he handed over the + plans. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to look sharp,” he said. “It’s not so late but that there may be + people in here yet.” + </p> + <p> + Cawdor crossed the room with the plans, and laid them down before the + writing table. Rounceby rose to his feet and lit a cigar. Marnstam walked + to the further window and back again. They stood side by side. Rounceby’s + whole frame seemed to have stiffened with some new emotion. + </p> + <p> + “There’s something wrong, Jim,” Marnstam whispered softly in his ear. + “You’ve got the old lady in your pocket?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Rounceby answered thickly, “and, by Heavens, I’m going to use it!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t shoot unless it’s the worst,” Marnstam counselled. “I shall go out + of that window, into the tree, and run for the river. But bluff first, Jim—bluff + for your life!” + </p> + <p> + There were swinging doors leading into the room from the hotel side, and a + small door exactly opposite which led to the residential part of the + place. Both of these doors were opened at precisely the same moment. + Through the former stepped two strong looking men in long overcoats, and + with the unmistakable appearance of policemen in plain clothes. Through + the latter came John Dory! He walked straight up to the two men. It spoke + volumes for his courage that, knowing their characters and believing them + to be in desperate straits, he came unarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, “I hold warrants for your arrest. I will not trouble + you with your aliases. You are known to-day, I believe, as James Rounceby + and Richard Marnstam. Will you come quietly?” + </p> + <p> + Marnstam’s expression was one of bland and beautiful surprise. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” he said, edging, however, a little toward the window—“you + must be joking! What is the charge?” + </p> + <p> + “You are charged with the wilful murder of a young man named Victor + Franklin,” answered Dory. “His body was recovered from Longthorp Tarn this + afternoon. You had better say nothing. Also with the theft of certain + papers known to have been in his possession.” + </p> + <p> + Now it is possible that at this precise moment Marnstam would have made + his spring for the window and Rounceby his running fight for liberty. The + hands of both men were upon their revolvers, and John Dory’s life was a + thing of no account. But at this juncture a thing happened. There were in + the room the two policemen guarding the swing doors, and behind them the + pale faces of a couple of night porters looking anxiously in. Vincent + Cawdor and Miss Brown were standing side by side, a little in the + background, and the young man who had been their companion had risen also + to his feet. As though with some intention of intervening, he moved a step + forward, almost in line with Dory. Rounceby saw him, and a new fear + gripped him by the heart. He shrank back, his fingers relaxed their hold + of his weapon, the sweat was hot upon his forehead. Marnstam, though he + seemed for a moment stupefied, realised the miracle which had happened and + struck boldly for his own. + </p> + <p> + “If this is a joke,” he said, “it strikes me as being a particularly bad + one. I should like to know, sir, how you dare to come into this room and + charge me and my friend—Mr. Rounceby—with being concerned in + the murder of a young man who is even now actually standing by your side.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory started back. He looked with something like apprehension at the + youth to whom Marnstam pointed. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Victor Franklin,” that young man declared. “What’s all this + about?” + </p> + <p> + Dory felt the ground give beneath his feet. Nevertheless, he set his teeth + and fought for his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You say that your name is Victor Franklin?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” + </p> + <p> + “You are the inventor of a flying machine?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “You were in Westmoreland with these two men a few days go?” + </p> + <p> + “I was,” the young man admitted. + </p> + <p> + “You left the village of Scawton in a motor car with them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! We quarrelled on the way, and parted.” + </p> + <p> + “You were robbed of nothing?” + </p> + <p> + Victor Franklin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he answered. “I had nothing worth stealing except my + plans, and they are in my pocket now.” + </p> + <p> + There was a few moments’ intense silence. Dory wheeled suddenly round, and + looked to where Mr. Vincent Cawdor had been standing. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mr. Cawdor?” he asked, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman with the grey moustache left a few seconds ago,” one of the + men at the door said. Dory was very pale. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, “I have to offer you my apologies. I have apparently + been deceived by some false information. The charge is withdrawn.” + </p> + <p> + He turned on his heel and left the room. The two policemen followed him. + </p> + <p> + “Keep them under observation,” Dory ordered shortly, “but I am afraid this + fellow Cawdor has sold me.” + </p> + <p> + He found a hansom outside, and sprang into it. + </p> + <p> + “Number 27, Southampton Row,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Rounceby and his partner were alone in the little smoking room. The former + was almost inarticulate. The night porter brought them brandy, and both + men drank. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve got to get to the bottom of this, Marnstam,” Mr. Rounceby muttered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Marnstam was thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember that sound through the darkness,” he said—“the + beating of an engine way back on the road?” + </p> + <p> + “What of it?” Rounceby demanded. + </p> + <p> + “It was a motor bicycle,” Marnstam said quietly. “I thought so at the + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing some one followed us and pulled him out,” Rounceby said, + hoarsely, “why are we treated like this? I tell you we’ve been made fools + of! We’ve been treated like children—not even to be punished! We’ll + have the truth somehow out of that devil Cawdor! Come!” + </p> + <p> + They made their way to the courtyard and found a cab. + </p> + <p> + “Number 27, Southampton Row!” they ordered. + </p> + <p> + They reached their destination some time before Dory, whose horse fell + down in the Strand, and who had to walk. They ascended to the fourth floor + of the building and rang the bell of Vincent Cawdor’s room—no + answer. They plied the knocker—no result. Rounceby peered through + the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + “He hasn’t come home yet,” he remarked. “There is no light anywhere in the + place.” + </p> + <p> + The door of a flat across the passage was quietly opened. Mr. Peter Ruff, + in a neat black smoking suit and slippers, and holding a pipe in his hand, + looked out. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, “but I do not think that Mr. Cawdor is + in. He went out early this evening, and I have not heard him return.” + </p> + <p> + The two men turned away. + </p> + <p> + “We are much obliged to you, sir,” Mr. Marnstam said. + </p> + <p> + “Can I give him any message?” Peter Ruff asked, politely. “We generally + see something of one another in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You can tell him—” Rounceby began. + </p> + <p> + “No message, thanks!” Marnstam interrupted. “We shall probably run across + him ourselves to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory was nearly a quarter of an hour late. After his third useless + summons, Mr. Peter Ruff presented himself again. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “you will not find my neighbour at home. There + have been several people enquiring for him to-night, without any result.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory came slowly across the landing. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Mr. Ruff!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s Mr. Dory!” Peter Ruff declared. “Come in, do, and have a + drink.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory accepted the invitation, and his eyes were busy in that little + sitting room during the few minutes which it took his host to mix that + whisky and soda. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing wrong with our friend opposite, I hope?” Peter Ruff asked, + jerking his head across the landing. + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, Mr. Ruff,” John Dory said. “No doubt in the morning he will + be able to explain everything. I must say that I should like to see him + to-night, though.” + </p> + <p> + “He may turn up yet,” Peter Ruff remarked, cheerfully. “He’s like myself—a + late bird.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear not,” Dory answered, drily. “Nice rooms you have here, sir. Just a + sitting room and bedroom, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff stood up and threw open the door of the inner apartment. + </p> + <p> + “That’s so,” he answered. “Care to have a look round?” + </p> + <p> + The detective did look round, and pretty thoroughly. As soon as he was + sure that there was no one concealed upon the premises, he drank his + whisky and soda and went. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll look in again to see Cawdor,” he remarked—“to-morrow, perhaps, + or the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll let him know if I see him about,” Peter Ruff declared. “Sorry the + lift’s stopped. Three steps to the left and straight on. Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown arrived early the following morning, and was disposed to be + inquisitive. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know,” she said, “exactly what has become of Mr. Vincent + Cawdor.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff took her upstairs. There was a little mound of ashes in the + grate. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I imagined that,” she said. “But why did you send me out to watch + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Violet,” Peter Ruff answered, “there is no man in the world + to-day who is my equal in the art of disguising himself. At the same time, + I wanted to know whether I could deceive you. I wanted to be quite sure + that my study of Mr. Vincent Cawdor was a safe one. I took those rooms in + his name and in his own person. I do not think that it occurred even to + our friend John Dory to connect us in his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she went on. “Now tell me, please, what took you up to + Westmoreland?” + </p> + <p> + “I followed Rounceby and Marnstam,” he answered, “I knew them when I was + abroad, studying crime—I could tell you a good deal about both those + men if it were worth while—and I knew, when they hired a big motor + car and engaged a crook to drive it, that they were worth following. I saw + the trial of the flying machine, and when they started off with young + Franklin, I followed on a motor bicycle. I fished him out of the tarn + where they left him for dead, brought him on to London, and made my own + terms with him.” + </p> + <p> + “What about the body which was found in the Longthorp Tarn?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I had that telegram sent myself,” Peter Ruff answered. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him severely. + </p> + <p> + “You went out of your way to make a fool of John Dory!” she said, frowning + at him. + </p> + <p> + “That I admit,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” she continued, “that that, after all, has been the chief + object of the whole affair. I do not see that we—that is the firm—profit + in the least.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve got a fourth share in the Franklin Flying Machine,” he answered, + “and I’m hanged if I’d sell it for a hundred thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve taken advantage of that young man’s gratitude,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I earned the money,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE INDISCRETION OF LETTY SHAW + </h2> + <p> + Amidst a storm of whispered criticisms, the general opinion was that Letty + Shaw was a silly little fool who ought to have known better. When she had + entered the restaurant a few minutes before midnight, followed by Austen + Abbott, every one looked to see a third person following them. No third + person, however, appeared. Gustav himself conducted them to a small table + laid for two, covered with pink roses, and handed his fair client the menu + of a specially ordered supper. There was no gainsaying the fact that Letty + and her escort proposed supping alone! + </p> + <p> + The Cafe at the Milan was, without doubt, the fashionable rendezvous of + the moment for those ladies connected with the stage who, after their + performance, had not the time or the inclination to make the conventional + toilet demanded by the larger restaurants. Letty Shaw, being one of the + principal ornaments of the musical comedy stage, was well known to every + one in the room. There was scarcely a person there who within the last + fortnight had not found an opportunity of congratulating her upon her + engagement to Captain the Honourable Brian Sotherst. Sotherst was rich, + and one of the most popular young men about town. Letty Shaw, although she + had had one or two harmless flirtations, was well known as a + self-respecting and hard-working young actress who loved her work, and + against whom no one had ever had a word to say. Consequently, the shock + was all the greater when, within a fortnight of her engagement, she was + thus to be seen openly supping alone with the most notorious woman hunter + about town—a man of bad reputation, a man, too, towards whom + Sotherst was known to have a special aversion. Nothing but a break with + Sotherst or a fit of temporary insanity seemed to explain, even + inadequately, the situation. + </p> + <p> + Her best friend—the friend who knew her and believed in her—rose + to her feet and came sailing down the room. She nodded gaily to Abbott, + whom she hated, and whom she had not recognized for years, and laid her + hand upon Letty’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Brian?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Letty shrugged her shoulders—it was not altogether a natural + gesture. + </p> + <p> + “On duty to-night,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Her best friend paused for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Come over and join our party, both of you,” she said. “Dicky Pennell’s + here and Gracie Marsh—just landed. They’d love to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + Letty shook her head slowly. There was a look in her face which even her + best friend did not understand. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid that we can’t do that,” she said. “I am Mr. Abbott’s guest.” + </p> + <p> + “And to-night,” Austen Abbott intervened, looking up at the woman who + stood between them, “I am not disposed to share Miss Shaw with anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Her best friend could do no more than shake her head and go away. The two + were left alone for the rest of the evening. When they departed together, + people who knew felt that a whiff of tragedy had passed through the room. + Nobody understood—or pretended to understand. Even before her + engagement, Letty had never been known to sup alone with a man. That she + should do so now, and with this particular man, was preposterous! + </p> + <p> + “Something will come of it,” her best friend murmured, sadly, as she + watched Austen Abbott help his companion on with her cloak. + </p> + <p> + Something did! + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff rose at his accustomed time the following morning, and attired + himself, if possible, with more than his usual care. He wore the grey suit + which he had carefully put out the night before, but he hesitated long + between the rival appeals of a red tie with white spots and a plain mauve + one. He finally chose the latter, finding that it harmonised more + satisfactorily with his socks, and after a final survey of himself in the + looking-glass, he entered the next room, where his coffee was set out upon + a small round table near the fire, together with his letters and + newspapers. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was, after all, like the rest of us, a creature of habit. He + made an invariable rule of glancing through the newspapers before he paid + any regard at all to his letters or his breakfast. In the absence of + anything of a particularly sensational character, he then opened his + letters in leisurely fashion, and went back afterwards to the newspaper as + he finished his meal. This morning, however, both his breakfast and + letters remained for some time untouched. The first paragraph which caught + his eye as he shook open the Daily Telegraph was sufficiently absorbing. + There it was in great black type: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TERRIBLE TRAGEDY IN THE FLAT OF A WELL-KNOWN ACTRESS! + AUSTEN ABBOTT SHOT DEAD! + ARREST OF CAPTAIN SOTHERST +</pre> + <p> + Beyond the inevitable shock which is always associated with the taking of + life, and the unusual position of the people concerned in it, there was + little in the brief account of the incident to excite the imagination. A + policeman on the pavement outside the flat in which Miss Shaw and her + mother lived fancied that he heard, about two o’clock in the morning, the + report of a revolver shot. As nothing further transpired, and as the sound + was very indistinct, he did not at once enter the building, but kept it, + so far as possible, under observation. About twenty minutes later, a young + gentleman in evening dress came out into the street, and the policeman + noticed at once that he was carrying a small revolver, which he attempted + to conceal. The constable thereupon whistled for his sergeant, and + accompanied by the young gentleman—who made no effort to escape—ascended + to Miss Shaw’s rooms, where the body of Austen Abbott was discovered lying + upon the threshold of the sitting room with a small bullet mark through + the forehead. The inmates of the house were aroused and a doctor sent for. + The deceased man was identified as Austen Abbott—a well-known actor—and + the man under arrest gave his name at once as Captain the Honourable Brian + Sotherst. Peter Ruff sighed as he laid down the paper. The case seemed to + him perfectly clear, and his sympathies were altogether with the young + officer who had taken the law into his own hands. He knew nothing of Miss + Letty Shaw, and, consequently, did her, perhaps, less than justice in his + thoughts. Of Austen Abbott, on the other hand, he knew a great deal—and + nothing of good. It was absurd, after all, that any one should be punished + for killing such a brute! + </p> + <p> + He descended, a few minutes later, to his office, and found Miss Brown + busy arranging a bowl of violets upon his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it horrible?” she cried, as he entered, carrying a bundle of papers + under his arm. “I never have had such a shock!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know any of them, then?” Peter Ruff asked, straightening his tie + in the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” she answered. “Why, I was in the same company as Letty Shaw + for a year. I was at the Milan, too, last night. Letty was there having + supper alone with Austen Abbott. We all said that there’d be trouble, but + of course we never dreamed of this! Isn’t there any chance for him, Peter? + Can’t he get off?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid not,” he answered. “They may be able to bring evidence of a + quarrel and reduce it to manslaughter, but what you’ve just told me about + this supper party makes it all the worse. It will come out in the + evidence, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Sotherst is such a dear,” Miss Brown declared, “and so + good-looking! And as for that brute Austen Abbott, he ought to have been + shot long ago!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff seated himself before his desk and hitched up his trousers at + the knees. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt you are right, Violet,” he said, “but people go about these + things so foolishly. To me it is simply exasperating to reflect how little + use is made of persons such as myself, whose profession in life it is to + arrange these little matters. Take the present case, for example. Captain + Sotherst had only to lay these facts before me, and Austen Abbott was a + ruined man. I could have arranged the affair for him in half-a-dozen + different ways. Whereas now it must be a life for a life—the life of + an honest young English gentleman for that of a creature who should have + been kicked out of the world as vermin!... I have some letters give you, + Violet, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + She swung round in her chair reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help thinking of that poor young fellow,” she said, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Sentiment after office hours, if you please!” said Peter. + </p> + <p> + Then there came a knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + His visitor lifted her veil, and Peter Ruff recognized her immediately. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, Lady Mary?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She saw the recognition in his eyes even before he spoke, and wondered at + it. + </p> + <p> + “You know me?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I know most people,” he answered, drily; “it is part of my profession.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—you are Mr. Peter Ruff,” she said, “the famous specialist + in the detection of crime? You know that Brian Sotherst is my brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I know it! I am sorry—very sorry, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her a chair. She seated herself with a little tightening of the + lips. + </p> + <p> + “I want more than sympathy from you, Mr. Ruff,” she warned him. “I want + your help.” + </p> + <p> + “It is my profession,” he admitted, “but your brother’s case makes + intervention difficult, does it not?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother himself does not deny his guilt, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “He has not denied it,” she answered—“very likely he will not do so + before the magistrate—but neither has he admitted it. Mr. Ruff, you + are such a clever man. Can’t you see the truth?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff looked at her steadily for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Mary,” he said, “I can see what you are going to suggest. You are + going on the assumption that Austen Abbott was shot by Letty Shaw and that + your brother is taking the thing on his shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it!” she declared. “The girl did it herself, beyond a doubt. + Brian would never have shot any one. He might have horsewhipped him, + perhaps—even beaten him to death—but shot him in cold blood—never!” + </p> + <p> + “The provocation—” Ruff began. + </p> + <p> + “There was no provocation,” she interrupted. “He was engaged to the girl, + and of course we hated it, but she was an honest little thing, and devoted + to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless,” Ruff admitted. “But all the same, as you will hear before the + magistrates, or at the inquest, she was having supper alone with Austen + Abbott that night at the Milan.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary’s eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it!” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “It is nevertheless true,” Peter Ruff assured her. “There is no shadow of + doubt about it.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary was staggered. For a few moment she seemed struggling to + rearrange her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” Ruff continued, “the fact that Miss Shaw was willing to sup + with Austen Abbott tete-a-tete renders it more improbable that she should + shoot him in her sitting room, an hour or so later, and then go calmly up + to her mother’s room as though nothing had happened.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary had lost some of her confidence, but she was not daunted. + </p> + <p> + “Even if we have been deceived in the girl,” she said, thoughtfully—“even + if she were disposed to flirt with other men—even then there might + be a stronger motive than ever for her wishing to get rid of Abbott. He + may have become jealous, and threatened her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, of course, possible,” Ruff assented, politely. “Your theory would, + at any rate, account for your brother’s present attitude.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “You believe, then,” she said, “that my brother shot Austen Abbott?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” he admitted frankly. “So does every man or woman of common sense + in London. On the facts as they are stated in the newspapers, with the + addition of which I have told you, no other conclusion is possible.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary rose. + </p> + <p> + “Then I may as well go,” she said tearfully. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Peter Ruff declared. “Listen. This is a matter of business + with me. I say that on the facts as they are known, your brother’s guilt + appears indubitable. I do not say that there may not be other facts in the + background which alter the state of affairs. If you wish me to search for + them, engage me, and I will do my best.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that what I am here for?” the girl exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Peter Ruff said. “My services are at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do your best—more than your best, won’t you?” she begged. + “Remember that he is my brother—my favourite brother!” + </p> + <p> + “I will do what can be done,” Peter Ruff promised. “Please sit down at + that desk and write me two letters of introduction.” + </p> + <p> + She drew off her gloves and prepared to obey him. + </p> + <p> + “To whom?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “To the solicitors who are defending your brother,” he said, “and to Miss + Letty Shaw.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to go and see her?” Lady Mary asked, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Peter Ruff answered. “If your supposition is correct, she + might easily give herself away under a little subtle cross-examination. It + is my business to know how to ask people questions in such a way that if + they do not speak the truth their words give some indication of it. If she + is innocent I shall know that I have to make my effort in another + direction.” + </p> + <p> + “What other direction can there be?” Lady Mary asked dismally. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff said nothing. He was too kind-hearted to kindle false hopes. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a hopeless case, of course,” Miss Brown remarked, after Lady Mary + had departed. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid so,” Peter Ruff answered. “Still I must earn my money. Please + get some one to take you to supper to-night at the Milan, and see if you + can pick up any scandal.” + </p> + <p> + “About Letty?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “About either of them,” he answered. “Particularly I should like to know + if any explanation has cropped up of her supping alone with Austen + Abbott.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see why you can’t take me yourself,” she remarked. “You are on + the side of the law this time, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” he answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “I will call for you + at eleven o’clock to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and closed his desk emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “You are going out?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see Miss Letty Shaw,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + He took a taxicab to the flats, and found a handful of curious people + still gazing up at the third floor. The parlourmaid who answered his + summons was absolutely certain that Miss Shaw would not see him. He + persuaded her, after some difficulty, to take in his letter while he + waited in the hall. When she returned, she showed him into a small sitting + room and pulled down the blinds. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Shaw will see you, sir, for a few minutes,” she announced, in a + subdued tone. “Poor dear young lady,” she continued, “she has been crying + her eyes out all the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder,” Peter Ruff said, sympathetically. “It’s a terrible business, + this!” + </p> + <p> + “One of the nicest young men as ever walked,” the girl declared, firmly. + “As for that brute, he deserved all he’s got, and more!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was left alone for nearly a quarter of an hour. Then the door + was softly opened and Letty Shaw entered. There was no doubt whatever + about her suffering. Ruff, who had seen her only lately at the theatre, + was shocked. Under her eyes were blacker lines than her pencil had ever + traced. Not only was she ghastly pale, but her face seemed wan and + shrunken. She spoke to him the moment she entered, leaning with on hand + upon the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Mary writes that you want to help us,” she said. “How can you? How + is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + Even her voice had gone. She spoke hoarsely, and as though short of + breath. Her eyes searched his face feverishly. It seemed cruelty not to + answer her at once, and Peter Ruff was not a cruel man. Nevertheless, he + remained silent, and it seemed to her that his eyes were like points of + fire upon her face. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” she cried, with breaking voice. “What have you come + for? Why don’t you speak to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” Peter Ruff said, “I should like to help you, and I will do what I + can. But in order that I may do so, it is necessary that you should answer + me two questions—truthfully!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes grew wider. It was the face of a terrified child. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she exclaimed. “What have I to conceal?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff’s expression never changed. There was nothing about him, as he + stood there with his hands behind him, his head thrown a little forward, + in the least inspiring—nothing calculated to terrify the most timid + person. Yet the girl looked at him with the eyes of a frightened bird. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, then,” he continued, smoothly, “that what you say to me is + sacred. You and I are alone without witnesses or eavesdroppers. Was it + Brian Sotherst who shot Abbott—or was it you?” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little cry. Her hands clasped the sides of her head in horror. + </p> + <p> + “I!” she exclaimed, “I! God help me!” + </p> + <p> + He waited. In a moment she looked up. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot believe that,” she said, with a calmness for which he was + scarcely prepared. “It is absurd. I left the room by the inner door as he + took up his hat to step out into the hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Incidentally,” he asked—“this is not my other question, mind—why + did you not let him out yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “We had disagreed,” she answered, curtly. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff bent his head in assent. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he remarked. “You had disagreed. Abbott probably hoped that you + would relent, so he waited for a few minutes. Brian Sotherst, who had + escaped from his engagement in time, he thought, to come and wish you good + night, must have walked in and found him there. By the bye, how would + Captain Sotherst get in?” + </p> + <p> + “He had a key,” the girl answered. “My mother lives here with me, and we + have only one maid. It was more convenient. I gave him one washed in gold + for a birthday present only a few days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” Peter Ruff said. “The revolver, I understand, was your + property?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It was a present from Brian,” she said. “He gave it to me in a joke, and + I had it on the table with some other curiosities.” + </p> + <p> + “The first question,” Peter Ruff said, “is disposed of. May I proceed to + the second?” + </p> + <p> + The girl moistened her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you sup alone with Austen Abbott last night?” + </p> + <p> + She shrank a little away. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I not?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You have been on the stage, my dear Miss Shaw,” Peter Ruff continued, + “for between four and five years. During the whole of that time, it has + been your very wise habit to join supper parties, of course, when the + company was agreeable to you, but to sup alone with no man! Am I not + right?” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know a great deal about me,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Am I not right?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “You break your rule for the first time,” Peter Ruff continued, “in favour + of a man of notoriously bad character, a few weeks after the announcement + of your engagement to an honourable young English gentleman. You know very + well the construction likely to be put upon your behaviour—you, of + all people, would be the most likely to appreciate the risk you ran. Why + did you run it? In other words, I repeat my question. Why did you sup + alone with Austen Abbott last night?” + </p> + <p> + All this time she had been standing. She came a little forward now, and + threw herself into an easy-chair. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t help!” she exclaimed. “All this doesn’t help!” + </p> + <p> + “Nor can I help you, then,” Peter Ruff said, stretching out his hand for + his hat. + </p> + <p> + She waved to him to put it down. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” she said. “It has nothing to do with the case, but + since you ask, you shall know. There is a dear little girl in our company—Fluffy + Dean we all call her—only eighteen years old. We all love her, she + is so sweet, and just like I was when I first went on the stage, only much + nicer. She is very pretty, she has no money, and she is such an + affectionate little dear that although she is as good as gold, we are all + terrified for her sake whenever she makes acquaintances. Several of us who + are most interested made a sort of covenant. We all took it in turns to + look after her, and try to see that she did not meet any one she + shouldn’t. Yet, for all our precautions, Austen Abbott got hold of her and + turned her silly little head. He was a man of experience, and she was only + a child. She wouldn’t listen to us—she wouldn’t hear a word against + him. I took what seemed to me to be the only chance. I went to him myself—I + begged for mercy, I begged him to spare the child. I swore that if—anything + happened to her, I would start a crusade against him, I would pledge my + word that he should be cut by every decent man and woman on the stage! He + listened to what I had to say and at first he only smiled. When I had + finished, he made me an offer. He said that if I would sup with him alone + at the Milan, and permit him to escort me home afterwards, he would spare + the child. One further condition he made—that I was to tell no one + why I did it. It was the man’s brutal vanity! I made the promise, but I + break it now. You have asked me and I have told you. I went through with + the supper, although I hated it. I let him come in for a drink as though + he had been a friend. Then he tried to make love to me. I took the + opportunity of telling him exactly what I thought of him. Then I showed + him the door, and left him. Afterwards—afterwards—Brian came + in! They must have met upon the very threshold!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff took up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she continued, drearily, “that it all has very little to do + with the case. I meant to keep it to myself, because, of course, apart + from anything else, apart from Brian’s meeting him coming out of my rooms, + it supplies an additional cause for anger on Brian’s part.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he answered. “I am much obliged to you, Miss Shaw. Believe me + that you have my sincere sympathy!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff’s farewell words were unheard. Letty had fallen forward in her + chair, her head buried in her hands. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff went to Berkeley Square and found Lady Mary waiting for him. + Sir William Trencham, the great solicitor, was with her. Lady Mary + introduced the two men. All the time she was anxiously watching Ruff’s + face. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ruff has been to see Miss Shaw,” she explained to Sir William. “Mr. + Ruff, tell me quickly,” she continued, with her hand upon his shoulder, + “did she say anything? Did you find anything out?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said. “I found nothing out!” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t think, then,” Lady Mary gasped, “that there is any chance—of + getting her to confess—that she did it herself?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should she have done it herself?” Peter Ruff asked. “She admits that + the man tried to make love to her. She simply left him. She was in her own + home, with her mother and servant within call. There was no struggle in + the room—we know that. There was no necessity for any.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you made any other enquiries?” Lady Mary asked. + </p> + <p> + “The few which I have made,” Peter Ruff answered gravely, “point all in + the same direction. I ascertained at the Milan that your brother called + there late last night, and that he heard Miss Shaw had been supping alone + with Austen Abbott. He followed them home. I have ascertained, too, that + he had a key to Miss Shaw’s flat. He apparently met Austen Abbott upon the + threshold.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary covered her face with her hands. She seemed to read in Ruff’s + words the verdict of the two men—the verdict of common sense. + Nevertheless, he made one more request before leaving. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see Captain Sotherst, if you can get me an order,” he + said to Sir William. + </p> + <p> + “You can go with me to-morrow morning,” the lawyer answered. “The + proceedings this morning, of course, were simply formal. Until after the + inquest it will be easy to arrange an interview.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary looked up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “There is still something in your mind, then?” she asked. “You think that + there is a bare chance?” + </p> + <p> + “There is always the hundredth chance!” Peter Ruff replied. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff and Miss Brown supped at the Milan that night as they had + arranged, but it was not a cheerful evening. Brian Sotherst had been very + popular among Letty Shaw’s little circle of friends, and the general + feeling was one of horror and consternation at this thing which had + befallen him. Austen Abbot, too, was known to all of them, and although a + good many of the men—and even the women—were outspoken enough + to declare at once that it served him right, nevertheless, the shock of + death—death without a second’s warning—had a paralysing effect + even upon those who were his severest critics. Violet Brown spoke to a few + of her friends—introduced Peter Ruff here and there—but + nothing was said which could throw in any way even the glimmerings of a + new light upon the tragedy. It all seemed too hopelessly and fatally + obvious. + </p> + <p> + About twenty minutes before closing time, the habitues of the place were + provided with something in the nature of a sensation. A little party + entered who seemed altogether free from the general air of gloom. Foremost + among them was a very young and exceedingly pretty girl, with light golden + hair waved in front of her forehead, deep blue eyes, and the slight, airy + figure of a child. She was accompanied by another young woman, whose + appearance was a little too obvious to be prepossessing, and three or four + young men—dark, clean-shaven, dressed with the irritating exactness + of their class—young stockbrokers or boys about town. Miss Brown’s + eyes grew very wide open. + </p> + <p> + “What a little beast!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “That pretty girl there,” she answered—“Fluffy Dean her name is. She + is Letty Shaw’s protege, and she wouldn’t have dreamed of allowing her to + come out with a crowd like that. Tonight, of all nights,” she continued, + indignantly, “when Letty is away!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was interested. + </p> + <p> + “So that is Miss Fluffy Dean,” he remarked, looking at her curiously. “She + seems a little excited.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s a horrid little wretch!” Miss Brown declared. “I hope that some one + will tell Letty, and that she will drop her now. A girl who would do such + a thing as that when Letty is in such trouble isn’t worth taking care of! + Just listen to them all!” + </p> + <p> + They were certainly becoming a little boisterous. A magnum of champagne + was being opened. Fluffy Dean’s cheeks were already flushed, and her eyes + glittering. Every one at the table was talking a great deal and drinking + toasts. + </p> + <p> + “This is the end of Fluffy Dean,” Violet Brown said, severely. “I hate to + be uncharitable, but it serves her right.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff paid his bill. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go,” he said. + </p> + <p> + In the taxicab, on their way back to Miss Brown’s rooms, Ruff was + unusually silent, but just before he said good night to her—on the + pavement, in fact, outside her front door—he asked a question. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, “would you like to play detective for an hour or two?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You know I always like to help in anything that’s going,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Letty Shaw was an Australian, wasn’t she?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “She was born there, and lived there till she was nearly eighteen—is + that true?” he asked again. + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” Miss Brown answered. + </p> + <p> + “You know the offices of the P.& O. line of steamers in Pall Mall?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Get a sailing list to Australia—there should be a boat going + Thursday. Present yourself as a prospective passenger. See how many young + women alone there are going out, and ask their names. Incidentally put in + a little spare time watching the office.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with parted lips and wide-open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think—” she began. + </p> + <p> + He shook her hand warmly and stepped back into the taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “Good night!” he said. “No questions, please. I sha’n’t expect you at the + office at the usual time to-morrow, at any rate. Telephone or run around + if you’ve anything to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + The taxicab disappeared round the corner of the street. Miss Brown was + standing still upon the pavement with the latchkey in her hand. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was afternoon before the inquest on the body of Austen Abbott, and + there was gathered together in Letty Shaw’s parlor a curiously assorted + little group of people. There was Miss Shaw herself—or rather what + seemed to be the ghost of herself—and her mother; Lady Mary and Sir + William Trencham; Peter Ruff and Violet Brown—and Mr. John Dory. The + eyes of all of them were fixed upon Peter Ruff, who was the latest + arrival. He stood in the middle of the room, calmly taking off his gloves, + and glancing complacently down at his well-creased trousers. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Mary,” he said, “and Miss Shaw, I know that you are both anxious for + me to explain why I ask you to meet me here this afternoon, and why I also + requested my friend Mr. Dory from Scotland Yard, who has charge of the + case against Captain Sotherst, to be present. I will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dory nodded, a little impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Unless you have something very definite to say,” he remarked, “I think it + would be as well to postpone any general discussion of this matter until + after the inquest. I must warn you that so far as I, personally, am + concerned, I must absolutely decline to allude to the subject at all. It + would be most unprofessional.” + </p> + <p> + “I have something definite to say,” Peter Ruff declared, mildly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary’s eyes flashed with hope—Letty Shaw leaned forward in her + chair with white, drawn face. + </p> + <p> + “Let it be understood,” Peter Ruff said, with a slight note of gravity + creeping into his tone, “that I am here solely as the agent of Lady Mary + Sotherst. I am paid and employed by her. My sole object is on her behalf, + therefore, to discover proof of the innocence of Captain Sotherst. I take + it, however,” he added, turning towards the drooping figure in the + easy-chair, “that Miss Shaw is as anxious to have the truth known.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! Of course!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “In France,” Peter Ruff continued, “there is a somewhat curious custom, + which, despite a certain theatricality, yet has its points. The scene of a + crime is visited, and its events, so far as may be, reconstructed. Let us + suppose for a moment that we are now engaged upon something of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + Letty Shaw shrank back in her chair. Her thin white fingers were gripping + its sides. Her eyes seemed to look upon terrible things. + </p> + <p> + “It is too—awful!” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” Peter Ruff said, firmly, “we seek the truth. Be so good as to + humour me in this. Dory, will you go to the front door, stand upon the mat—so? + You are Captain Sotherst—you have just entered. I am Austen Abbott. + You, Miss Shaw, have just ordered me from the room. You see, I move toward + the door. I open it—so. Miss Shaw,” he added, turning swiftly + towards her, “once more will you assure me that every one who was in the + flat that night, with the exception of your domestic servant, is present + now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Good! Then who,” he asked, suddenly pointing to a door on the left—“who + is in that room?” + </p> + <p> + They had all crowded after him to the threshold—thronging around him + as he stood face to face with John Dory. His finger never wavered—it + was pointing steadily towards that closed door a few feet to the left. + Suddenly Letty Shaw rushed past them with a loud shriek. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not go in!” she cried. “What business is it of his?” + </p> + <p> + She stood with her back to the door, her arms outstretched like a cross. + Her cheeks were livid. Her eyes seemed starting from her head. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff and John Dory laid their hands upon the girl’s wrists. She + clung to her place frantically. She was dragged from it, screaming. Peter + Ruff, as was his right, entered first. Almost immediately he turned round, + and his face was very grave. + </p> + <p> + “Something has happened in here, I am afraid,” he said. “Please come in + quietly.” + </p> + <p> + On the bed lay Fluffy Dean, fully dressed—motionless. One hand hung + down toward the floor—from the lifeless fingers a little phial had + slipped. The room was full of trunks addressed to— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MISS SMITH, + Passenger to Melborne. + S.S. Caroline. +</pre> + <p> + Peter Ruff moved over toward the bed and took up a piece of paper, upon + which were scribbled a few lines in pencil. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that I must read these aloud. You all have a right to + hear them.” + </p> + <p> + No one spoke. He continued: + </p> + <p> + Forgive me, Letty, but I cannot go to Australia. They would only bring me + back. When I remember that awful moment, my brain burns—I feel that + I am going mad! Some day I should do this—better now. Give my love + to the girls. + </p> + <p> + FLUFFY. + </p> + <p> + They sent for a doctor, and John Dory rang up Scotland Yard. Letty Shaw + had fainted, and had been carried to her room. While they waited about in + strange, half-benumbed excitement, Peter Ruff once more spoke to them. + </p> + <p> + “The reconstruction is easy enough now,” he remarked. “The partition + between this sitting room and that little bedroom is only an artificial + one—something almost as flimsy as a screen. You see,” he continued, + tapping with his knuckles, “you can almost put your hand through it. If + you look a little lower down, you will see where an opening has been made. + Fluffy Dean was being taken care of by Miss Shaw—staying with her + here, even. Miss Dean hears her lover’s voice in this room—hears him + pleading with Miss Shaw on he night of the murder. She has been sent home + early from the theatre, and it is just possible that she saw or had been + told that Austen Abbott had fetched Miss Shaw after the performance and + had taken her to supper. She was mad with anger and jealousy. The revolver + was there upon the table, with a silver box of cartridges. She possessed + herself of it and waited in her room. What she heard proved, at least, her + lover’s infidelity. She stood there at her door, waiting. When Austen + Abbott comes out, she shoots, throws the revolver at him, closes her door, + and goes off into a faint. Perhaps she hears footsteps—a key in the + door. At any rate, Captain Sotherst arrives a few minutes later. He finds, + half in the hall, half on the threshold of the sitting room, Austen Abbott + dead, and Miss Shaw’s revolver by the side of him. If he had been a wise + young man, he would have aroused the household. Why he did not do so, we + can perhaps guess. He put two and two together a little too quickly. It is + certain that he believed that the dead man had been shot by his fiancee. + His first thought was to get rid of the revolver. At any rate, he walked + down to the street with it in his hand, and was promptly arrested by the + policeman who had heard the shot. Naturally he refused to plead, because + he believed that Miss Shaw had killed the man, probably in self-defence. + She, at first, believed her lover guilty, and when afterwards Fluffy Dean + confessed, she, with feminine lack of common sense, was trying to get the + girl out of the country before telling the truth. A visit of hers to the + office of the steamship company gave me the clue I required.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary grasped both his hands. + </p> + <p> + “And Scotland Yard,” she exclaimed, with a withering glance at Dory, “have + done their best to hang my brother!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Mary,” he said, “remember that it is the business of Scotland + Yard to find a man guilty. It is mine, when I am employed for that + purpose, to find him innocent. You must not be too hard upon my friend Mr. + Dory. He and I seem to come up against each other a little too often, as + it is.” + </p> + <p> + “A little too often!” John Dory repeated, softly. “But one cannot tell. + Don’t believe, Lady Mary,” he added, “that we ever want to kill an + innocent man.” + </p> + <p> + “It is your profession, though,” she answered, “to find criminals—and + his,” she added, touching Peter Ruff on the shoulder, “to look for the + truth.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff bowed low—the compliment pleased him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. DELILAH FROM STREATHAM + </h2> + <p> + It was a favourite theory with Peter Ruff that the morning papers received + very insufficient consideration from the majority of the British public. A + glance at the headlines and a few of the spiciest paragraphs, a vague look + at the leading article, and the sheets were thrown away to make room for + more interesting literature. It was not so with Peter Ruff. Novels he very + seldom read—he did not, in fact, appreciate the necessity for their + existence. The whole epitome of modern life was, he argued, to be found + among the columns of the daily press. The police news, perhaps, was his + favourite study, but he did not neglect the advertisements. It followed, + therefore, as a matter of course, that the appeal of “M” in the personal + column of the Daily Mail was read by him on the morning of its appearance—read + not once only nor twice—it was a paragraph which had its own + peculiar interest for him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald, if still in England, is requested to communicate + with “M,” at Vagali’s Library, Cook’s Alley, Ledham Street, Soho. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff laid the paper down upon his desk and looked steadily at a box + of India-rubber bands. Almost his fingers, as he parted with the + newspaper, had seemed to be shaking. His eyes were certainly set in an + unusually retrospective stare. Who was this who sought to probe his past, + to renew an acquaintance with a dead personality? “M” could be but one + person! What did she want of him? Was it possible that, after all, a + little flame of sentiment had been kept alight in her bosom, too—that + in the quiet moments her thoughts had turned towards him as his had so + often done to her? Then a sudden idea—an ugly thought—drove + the tenderness from his face. She was no longer Maud Barnes—she was + Mrs. John Dory, and John Dory was his enemy! Could there be treachery + lurking beneath those simple lines? Things had not gone well with John + Dory lately. Somehow or other, his cases seemed to have crumpled into + dust. He was no longer held in the same esteem at headquarters. Yet could + even John Dory stoop to such means as these? + </p> + <p> + He turned in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Brown,” he said, “please take your pencil.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite ready, sir,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He marked the advertisement with a ring and passed it to her. + </p> + <p> + “Reply to that as follows,” he said: + </p> + <p> + DEAR SIR: + </p> + <p> + I notice in the Daily Mail of this morning that you are enquiring through + the “personal” column for the whereabouts of Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald. That + gentleman has been a client of mine, and I have been in occasional + communication with him. If you will inform me of the nature of your + business, I may, perhaps, be able to put you in touch with Mr. Fitzgerald. + You will understand, however, that, under the circumstances, I shall + require proofs of your good faith. + </p> + <p> + Truly yours, + </p> + <p> + PETER RUFF. + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown glanced through the advertisement and closed her notebook with + a little snap. + </p> + <p> + “Did you say—‘Dear Sir’?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” Peter Ruff answered. + </p> + <p> + “And you really mean,” she continued, with obvious disapproval, “that I am + to send this?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not usually waste my time,” Peter Ruff reminded her, mildly, “by + giving you down communications destined for the waste-paper basket.” + </p> + <p> + She turned unwillingly to her machine. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fitzgerald is very much better where he is,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “That depends,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She adjusted a sheet of paper into her typewriter. + </p> + <p> + “Who do you suppose ‘M’ is?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “With your assistance,” Peter Ruff remarked, a little sarcastically—“with + your very kind assistance—I propose to find out!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown sniffed, and banged at the keys of her typewriter. + </p> + <p> + “That coal-dealer’s girl from Streatham!” she murmured to herself.... + </p> + <p> + A few politely worded letters were exchanged. “M” declined to reveal her + identity, but made an appointment to visit Mr. Ruff at his office. The + morning she was expected, he wore an entirely new suit of clothes and was + palpably nervous. Miss Brown, who had arrived a little late, sat with her + back turned upon him, and ignored even his usual morning greeting. The + atmosphere of the office was decidedly chilly! Fortunately, the expected + visitor arrived early. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff rose to receive his former sweetheart with an agitation + perforce concealed, yet to him poignant indeed. For it was indeed Maud who + entered the room and came towards him with carefully studied embarrassment + and half doubtfully extended hand. He did not see the cheap millinery, the + slightly more developed figure, the passing of that insipid prettiness + which had once charmed him into the bloom of an over-early maturity. His + eyes were blinded with that sort of masculine chivalry—the heritage + only of fools and very clever men—which takes no note of such + things. It was Miss Brown who, from her place in a corner of the room, ran + over the cheap attractions of this unwelcome visitor with an expression of + scornful wonder—who understood the tinsel of her jewellery, the + cheap shoddiness of her ready-made gown; who appreciated, with merciless + judgment, her mincing speech, her cheap, flirtatious method. + </p> + <p> + Maud, with a diffidence not altogether assumed, had accepted the chair + which Peter Ruff had placed for her, and sat fidgeting, for a moment, with + the imitation gold purse which she was carrying. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, Mr. Ruff,” she said, looking demurely into her lap, “I ought + not to have come here. I feel terribly guilty. It’s such an uncomfortable + sort of position, too, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry that you find it so,” Peter Ruff said. “If there is anything I + can do—” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” she murmured, half raising her eyes to his and + dropping them again, “but, you see, we are perfect strangers to one + another. You don’t know me at all, do you? And I have only heard of you + through the newspapers. You might think all sorts of things about my + coming here to make enquiries about a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you,” Peter Ruff said, sincerely, “that you need have no + fears—no fears at all. Just speak to me quite frankly. Mr. + Fitzgerald was a friend of yours, was he not?” + </p> + <p> + Maud simpered. + </p> + <p> + “He was more than that,” she answered, looking down. “We were engaged to + be married.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I knew all about it,” he declared. “Fitzgerald used to tell me + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “You were his friend?” she asked, looking him in the face. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” Peter Ruff answered fervently, “his best friend! No one was more + grieved than I about that—little mistake.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “In some ways,” she remarked softly, “you remind me of him.” + </p> + <p> + “You could scarcely say anything,” Peter Ruff murmured “which would give + me more pleasure. I am flattered.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t flattery,” she said, “it’s the truth. You may be a few years + older, and Spencer had a very nice moustache, which you haven’t, but you + are really not unlike. Mr. Ruff, do tell me where he is!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff coughed. + </p> + <p> + “You must remember,” he said, “that Mr. Fitzgerald’s absence was caused by + events of a somewhat unfortunate character.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about it,” she answered, with a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + “You can appreciate the fact, therefore,” Peter Ruff continued, “that as + his friend and well-wisher I can scarcely disclose his whereabouts without + his permission. Will you tell me exactly why you want to meet him again?” + </p> + <p> + She blushed—looked down and up again—betrayed, in fact, all + the signs of confusion which might have been expected from her. + </p> + <p> + “Must I tell you that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You are married, are you not?” Peter Ruff asked, looking down at her + wedding ring. + </p> + <p> + She bit her lip with vexation. What a fool she had been not to take it + off! + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Well, no—that is to say—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” Peter Ruff interrupted. “Please don’t think that I want to + cross-examine you. I only asked these questions because I have a sincere + regard for Fitzgerald. I know how fond he was of you, and I cannot see + what there is to be gained, from his point of view, by reopening old + wounds.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, then,” she remarked, looking at him in such a manner that Miss + Brown had to cover her mouth with her hands to prevent her screaming out—“I + suppose you are one of those who think it a crime for a woman who is + married even to want to see, for a few moments, an old sweetheart?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” Peter Ruff answered, “as a bachelor, I have no + convictions of any sort upon the subject.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I am to understand, then,” Peter Ruff remarked, “that your reason for + wishing to meet Mr. Fitzgerald again is purely a sentimental one?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it is,” she murmured; “I have thought of him so often lately. + He was such a dear!” she declared, with enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “I have never been sufficiently thankful,” she continued, “that he got + away that night. At the time, I was very angry, but often since then I + have wished that I could have passed out with him into the fog and been + lost—but I mustn’t talk like this! Please don’t misunderstand me, + Mr. Ruff. I am happily married—quite happily married!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff sighed. + </p> + <p> + “My friend Fitzgerald,” he remarked, “will be glad to hear that.” + </p> + <p> + Maud fidgeted. It was not quite the effect she had intended to produce! + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she remarked, looking away with a pensive air, “one has + regrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Regrets!” Peter Ruff murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dory is not well off,” she continued, “and I am afraid that I am very + fond of life and going about, and everything is so expensive nowadays. + Then I don’t like his profession. I think it is hateful to be always + trying to catch people and put them in prison—don’t you, Mr. Ruff?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he answered. “Your husband and I work from the opposite poles + of life. He is always seeking to make criminals of the people whom I am + always trying to prove worthy members of society.” + </p> + <p> + “How noble!” Maud exclaimed, clasping her hands and looking up at him. “So + much more remunerative, too, I should think,” she added, after a moment’s + pause. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Peter Ruff admitted. “A private individual will pay more to + escape from the clutches of the law than the law will to secure its + victims. Scotland Yard expects them to come into its arms automatically—regards + them as a perquisite of its existence.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish my husband were in your profession, Mr. Ruff,” Maud said, with a + sidelong glance of her blue eyes which she had always found so effective + upon her various admirers. “I am sure that I should be a great deal fonder + of him.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff leaned forward in his chair. He, too, had expressive eyes at + times. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said—and stopped. But Maud blushed, all the same. + </p> + <p> + She looked down into her lap. + </p> + <p> + “We are forgetting Mr. Fitzgerald,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff glanced up at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long story,” he said. “Are you in a hurry, Mrs. Dory? + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” she assured him, “unless you want to close you office, or + anything. It must be nearly one o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he asked, “if you would do me the honour of lunching with me? + We might go to the Prince’s or the Carlton—whichever you prefer. I + will promise to talk about Mr. Fitzgerald all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I couldn’t!” Maud declared, with a little gasp. “At least—well, + I’m sure I don’t know!” + </p> + <p> + “You have no engagement for luncheon?” Peter Ruff asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she answered; “but, you see, we live so quietly. I have never + been to one of those places. I’d love to go—but if we were seen! + Wouldn’t people talk?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff smiled. Just the same dear, modest little thing! + </p> + <p> + “I can assure you,” he said, “that nothing whatever could be said against + our lunching together. People are not so strict nowadays, you know, and a + married lady has always a great deal of latitude.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him with a dazzling smile. + </p> + <p> + “I’d simply love to go to Prince’s!” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Cat!” Miss Brown murmured, as Peter Ruff and his client left the room + together. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff returned from his luncheon in no very jubilant state of mind. + For some time he sat in his easy-chair, with his legs crossed and his + finger tips pressed close together, looking steadily into space. Contrary + to his usual custom, he did not smoke. Miss Brown watched him from behind + her machine. + </p> + <p> + “Disenchanted?” she asked calmly. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff did not reply for several moments. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he admitted, hesitatingly, “that marriage with John Dory + has—well, not had a beneficial effect. She allowed me, for instance, + to hold her hand in the cab! Maud would never have permitted a stranger to + take such a liberty in the old days.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown smiled curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff felt that he was in the confessional. + </p> + <p> + “She certainly did seem,” he admitted, “to enjoy her champagne a great + deal, and she talked about her dull life at home a little more, perhaps, + than was discreet to one who was presumably a stranger. She was curious, + too, about dining out. Poor little girl, though. Just fancy, John Dory has + never taken her anywhere but to Lyons’ or an A B C, and the pit of a + theatre!” + </p> + <p> + “Which evening is it to be?” Miss Brown asked. + </p> + <p> + “Something was said about Thursday,” Peter Ruff admitted. + </p> + <p> + “And her husband?” Miss Brown enquired. + </p> + <p> + “He happens to be in Glasgow for a few days,” Peter Ruff answered. + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown looked at her employer steadily. She addressed him by his + Christian name, which was a thing she very seldom did in office hours. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she said, “are you going to let that woman make a fool of you?” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said; “say anything you want to—only, if you please, + don’t speak disrespectfully of Maud.” + </p> + <p> + “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you at all,” Miss Brown continued, rising to + her feet, “that this Maud, or whatever you want to call her, may be + playing a low-down game of her husband’s? He hates you, and he has vague + suspicions. Can’t you see that he is probably making use of your + infatuation for his common, middle-class little wife, to try and get you + to give yourself away? Can’t you see it, Peter? You are not going to tell + me that you are so blind as all that!” + </p> + <p> + “I must admit,” he answered with a sigh, “that, although I think you go + altogether too far, some suspicion of the sort has interfered with my + perfect enjoyment of the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown drew a little breath of relief. After all, then, his folly was + not so consummate as it had seemed! + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do about it, then?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff coughed—he seemed in an unusually amenable frame of mind, + and submitted to cross-examination without murmur. + </p> + <p> + “The subject of Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald,” he remarked, “seemed, somehow or + other, to drop into the background during our luncheon. I propose, + therefore, to continue to offer to Mrs. John Dory my most respectful + admiration. If she accepts my friendship, and is satisfied with it, so + much the better. I must admit that it would give me a great deal of + pleasure to be her occasional companion—at such times when her + husband happens to be in Glasgow!” + </p> + <p> + “And supposing,” Miss Brown asked, “that this is not all she wants—supposing, + for instance, that she persists in her desire for information concerning + Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” Peter Ruff admitted, “I’m afraid that I must conclude that her + unchivalrous clod of a husband has indeed stooped to make a fool of her.” + </p> + <p> + “And in that case,” Miss Brown demanded, “what shall you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinking that out,” Peter Ruff said mildly, “when you + spoke....” + </p> + <p> + The friendship of Peter Ruff with the wife of his enemy certainly appeared + to progress in most satisfactory fashion. The dinner and visit to the + theatre duly took place. Mr. Ruff was afterwards permitted to offer a + slight supper and to accompany his fair companion a portion of the way + home in a taxicab. She made several half-hearted attempts to return to the + subject of Spencer Fitzgerald, but her companion had been able on each + occasion to avoid the subject. Whether or not she was the victim of her + husband’s guile, there was no question about the reality of her enjoyment + during the evening. Ruff, when he remembered the flash of her eyes across + the table, the touch of her fingers in the taxi, was almost content to + believe her false to her truant lover. If only she had not been married to + John Dory, he realised, with a little sigh, that he might have taught her + to forget that such a person existed as Spencer Fitzgerald, might have + induced her to become Mrs. Peter Ruff! + </p> + <p> + On their next meeting, however, Peter Ruff was forced to realise that his + secretary’s instinct had not misled her. It was, alas, no personal and + sentimental regrets for her former lover which had brought the fair Maud + to his office. The pleasures of her evening—they dined at Romano’s + and had a box at the Empire—were insufficient this time to keep her + from recurring continually to the subject of her vanished lover. He tried + strategy—jealousy amongst other things. + </p> + <p> + “Supposing,” he said, as they sat quite close to one another in the box + during the interval, “supposing I were to induce our friend to come to + London—I imagine he would be fairly safe now if he kept out of your + husband’s way—what would happen to me?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” she murmured, glancing at him from behind her fan and then dropping + her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly—me!” he continued. “Don’t you think that I should be + doing myself a very ill turn if I brought you two together? I have very + few friends, and I cannot afford to lose one. I am quite sure that you + still care for him.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Not a scrap!” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you put that advertisement in the paper?” Ruff asked, with + smooth but swift directness. + </p> + <p> + She was not quick enough to parry his question. He read the truth in her + disconcerted face. Knowing it now for a certainty, he hastened to her aid. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” he said, looking away. “I should not have asked that + question—it is not my business. I will write to Fitzgerald. I will + tell him that you want to see him, and that I think it would be safe for + him to come to London.” + </p> + <p> + Maud recovered herself quickly. She thanked him with her eyes as well as + her words. + </p> + <p> + “And you needn’t be jealous, really,” she whispered behind her fan. “I + only want to see him once for a few minutes—to ask a question. After + that, I don’t care what becomes of him.” + </p> + <p> + A poor sort of Delilah, really, with her flushed face, her too elaborately + coiffured hair with its ugly ornament, her ready-made evening dress with + its cheap attempts at smartness, her cleaned gloves, indifferent shoes. + But Peter Ruff thought otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that, after I have found him for you, you will still come out + with me again sometimes?” he asked wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” she answered. “Whenever I can without John knowing,” she + added, with an unpleasant little laugh. “If you only knew how I loved the + music and the theatres, and this sort of life! What a good time your wife + would have, Mr. Ruff!” she added archly. + </p> + <p> + It was no joking matter with him. He had to remember that he was, in + effect, her tool, that she was making use of him, willing to betray her + former lover at her husband’s bidding. It was enough to make him, on his + side, burn for revenge! Yet he put the thought away from him with a + shiver. She was still the woman he had loved—she was still sacred to + him! That night he pleaded an engagement, and sent her home in a taxicab + alone. + </p> + <p> + John Dory, waiting patiently at home for his wife’s return, felt a certain + uneasiness when she swept into their little sitting room in all her cheap + splendour, with flushed cheeks—an obvious air of satisfaction with + herself and disdain for her immediate surroundings. John Dory was a + commonplace looking man—the absence of his collar, and his somewhat + shabby carpet slippers, did not improve his appearance. He had neglected + to shave, and he was drinking beer. At headquarters he was not considered + quite the smart young officer which he had once shown signs of becoming. + He looked at his wife with darkening face, and his wife, on her part, + thought of Peter Ruff in his immaculate evening clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he remarked, grumblingly, “you seem to find a good deal of + pleasure in this gadding about!” + </p> + <p> + She threw her soiled fan on the table. + </p> + <p> + “If I do,” she answered, “you are not the one to sit there and reproach me + with it, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s gone far enough, anyway,” John Dory said. “It’s gone further than I + meant it to go. Understand me, Maud—it’s finished! I’ll find your + old sweetheart for myself.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t trouble,” she answered, with a little toss of the head. “I am + not such a fool as you seem to think me. Mr. Ruff has made an appointment + with him.” + </p> + <p> + There was a change in John Dory’s face. The man’s eyes were bright—they + almost glittered. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that your friend Mr. Ruff is going to produce Spencer + Fitzgerald?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “He has promised to,” she answered. “John,” she declared, throwing herself + into an easy-chair, “I feel horrid about it. I wonder what Mr. Ruff will + think when he knows!” + </p> + <p> + “You can feel how you like,” John Dory answered bluntly, “so long as I get + the handcuffs on Spencer Fitzgerald’s wrists!” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered. She looked at her husband with distaste. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk about it!” she begged sharply. “It makes me feel the meanest + creature that ever crawled. I can’t help feeling, too, that Mr. Ruff will + think me a wretch—quite the gentleman he’s been all the time! I + never knew any one half so nice!” + </p> + <p> + John Dory set down his empty glass. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully, “what made him take such + a fancy to you! Rather sudden, wasn’t it, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Maud tossed her head. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see anything so wonderful about that,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Maud,” her husband said, rising to his feet. “You aren’t a + fool—not quite. You’ve spent some time with Peter Ruff. How much—think + carefully—how much does he remind you of Spencer Fitzgerald?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” she answered promptly. “Why, he is years older, and though + Spencer was quite the gentleman, there’s something about Mr. Ruff, and the + way he dresses and knows his way about—well, you can tell he’s been + a gentleman all his life.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory’s face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Think again,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t see any likeness,” she declared. “He did remind me a little of him + just at first, though,” she added, reflectively—“little things he + said, and sort of mannerisms. I’ve sort of lost sight of them the last few + times, though.” + </p> + <p> + “When is this meeting with Fitzgerald to come off?” John Dory asked + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + She did not answer him at once. A low, triumphant smile had parted her + lips. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow night,” she said; “he is to meet me in Mr. Ruff’s office.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time?” John Dory asked. + </p> + <p> + “At eight o’clock,” she answered. “Mr. Ruff is keeping his office open + late on purpose. Spencer thinks that afterwards he is going to take me out + to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure of this?” John Dory asked eagerly. “You are sure that the + man Ruff does not suspect you? You believe he means that you shall meet + Fitzgerald?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it,” she answered. “He is even a little jealous,” she + continued, with an affected laugh. “He told me—well, never mind!” + </p> + <p> + “He told you what?” John Dory asked. + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind,” she said. “I have done what you asked me anyway. If Mr. + Ruff had not found me an agreeable companion he would not have bothered + about getting Spencer to meet me. And now he’s done it,” she added, “I do + believe he’s a little jealous.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory glared, but he said nothing. It seemed to him that his hour of + revenge was close at hand! + </p> + <p> + It was the first occasion upon which words of this sort had passed between + Peter Ruff and his secretary. There was no denying the fact that Miss + Violet Brown was in a passion. It was an hour past the time at which she + usually left the office. For an hour she had pleaded, and Peter Ruff + remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool!” she cried to him at last. “I am a fool, too, that I have + ever wasted my thoughts and time upon you. Why can’t I make you see? In + every other way, heaven knows, you are clever enough! And yet there comes + this vulgar, commonplace, tawdry little woman from heaven knows where, and + makes such a fool of you that you are willing to fling away your career—to + hold your wrists out for John Dory’s handcuffs!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Violet,” Peter Ruff answered deprecatingly, “you really worry me—you + do indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Not half so much as you worry me,” she declared. “Look at the time. It’s + already past seven. At eight o’clock Mrs. Dory—your Maud—is + coming in here hoping to find her old sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, indeed?” Miss Brown answered angrily. “Don’t you know—can’t + you believe—that close on her heels will come her husband—that + Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald, if ever he comes to life in this room, will leave + it between two policemen?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff sighed. + </p> + <p> + “What a pessimist you are, my dear Violet!” he said. + </p> + <p> + She came up to him and laid her hands upon his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she said, “I will tell you something—I must! I am fond of + you, Peter. I always have been. Don’t make me miserable if there is no + need for it. Tell me honestly—do you really believe in this woman?” + </p> + <p> + He removed her hands gently, and raised them to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” he said, “I believe in every one until I find them out. I + look upon suspicion as a vice. But, at the same time,” he added, “there + are always certain precautions which one takes.” + </p> + <p> + “What precautions can you take?” she cried. “Can you sit there and make + yourself invisible? John Dory is not a fool. The moment he is in this room + with the door closed behind him, it is the end.” + </p> + <p> + “We must hope not,” Peter Ruff said cheerfully. “There are other things + which may happen, you know.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away from him a little drearily. + </p> + <p> + “You do not mind if I stay?” she said. “I am not working to-night. + Perhaps, later on, I may be of use!” + </p> + <p> + “As you will,” he answered. “You will excuse me for a little time, won’t + you? I have some preparations to make.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head away from him. He left the room and ascended the + stairs to his own apartments. + </p> + <p> + Eight o’clock was striking from St. Martin’s Church when the door of Peter + Ruff’s office was softly opened and closed again. A man in a slouch hat + and overcoat entered, and after feeling along the wall for a moment, + turned up the electric light. Violet Brown rose from her place with a + little sob. She stretched out her hand to him. + </p> + <p> + “Peter!” she cried. “Peter!” + </p> + <p> + “My name,” the newcomer said calmly, “is Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, listen to me!” she begged. “There is still time, if you hurry. Think + how many clever men before you have been deceived by the woman in whom + they trusted. Please, please go! Hurry upstairs and put those things + away.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” the newcomer said, “I am much obliged to you for your interest, + but I think that you are making a mistake. I have come here to meet—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short. There was a soft knocking at the door. A stifled scream + broke from Violet Brown’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “It is too late!” she cried. “Peter! Peter!” + </p> + <p> + She sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. The door was + opened and Maud came in. When she saw who it was who sat in Peter Ruff’s + place, she gave a little cry. Perhaps after all, she had not believed that + this thing would happen. + </p> + <p> + “Spencer!” she cried, “Spencer! Have you really come back?” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hands. + </p> + <p> + “You are glad to see me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She came slowly forward. The man rose from his place and came towards her + with outstretched hands. Then through the door came John Dory, and one + caught a glimpse of others behind him. + </p> + <p> + “If my wife is not glad to see you, Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald,” he aid, in a + tone from which he vainly tried to keep the note of triumph, “I can assure + you that I am. You slipped away from me cleverly at Daisy Villa, but this + time I think you will not find it so easy.” + </p> + <p> + Maud shrank back, and her husband took her place. But Mr. Spencer + Fitzgerald looked upon them both as one who looks upon figures in a dream. + Miss Brown rose hurriedly from her seat. She came over to him and thrust + her arm through his. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she said, taking his hand in hers, “don’t shoot. It isn’t worth + while. You should have listened to me.” + </p> + <p> + The little man in the gold-rimmed spectacles looked at her, looked at Mr. + John Dory, looked at the woman who was shrinking back now against the + wall. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” he said, “this is the most extraordinary situation in which I + ever found myself!” + </p> + <p> + “We will help you to realise it,” John Dory cried, and the triumph in his + tone had swelled into a deeper note. “I came here to arrest Mr. + Fitzgerald, but I hear this young lady call you ‘Peter.’ Perhaps this may + be the solution—” + </p> + <p> + The little man struck the table with the flat of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “this is getting a bit too thick. First of all—you,” + he said, turning to Miss Brown—“my name is not Peter, and I have no + idea of shooting anybody. As for that lady against the wall, I don’t know + her—never saw her before in my life. As for you,” he added, turning + to John Dory, “you talk about arresting me—what for?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. John Dory smiled. + </p> + <p> + “There is an old warrant,” he said, “which I have in my pocket, but I + fancy that there are a few little things since then which we may have to + enquire into.” + </p> + <p> + “This beats me!” the little man declared. “Who do you think I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald, to start with,” John Dory said. “It seems to me + not impossible that we may find another pseudonym for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You can find as many as you like,” the little man answered testily, “but + my name is James Fitzgerald, and I am an actor employed at the Shaftesbury + Theatre, as I can prove with the utmost ease. I never called myself + Spencer; nor, to my knowledge, was I ever called by such a name. Nor, as I + remarked before, have I ever seen any one of you three people before with + the exception of Miss Brown here, whom I have seen on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory grunted. + </p> + <p> + “It was Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald,” he said, “a clerk in Howell & + Wilson’s bookshop, who leapt out of the window of Daisy Villa two years + ago. It may be Mr. James Fitzgerald now. Gentlemen of your profession have + a knack of changing their names.” + </p> + <p> + “My profession’s as good as yours, anyway!” the little man exclaimed. “We + aren’t all fools in it! My friend Mr. Peter Ruff said to me that there was + a young lady whom I used to know who was anxious to meet me again, and + would I step around here about eight o’clock. Here I am, and all I can say + is, if that’s the young lady, I never saw her before in my life.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s breathless silence. Then the door was softly opened. + Violet Brown went staggering back like a woman who sees a ghost. She bit + her lips till the blood came. It was Peter Ruff who stood looking in upon + them—Peter Ruff, carefully dressed in evening clothes, his silk hat + at exactly the correct angle, his coat and white kid gloves upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” he said, “you don’t seem to be getting on very well! Mr. Dory,” + he added, with a note of surprise in his tone, “this is indeed an + unexpected pleasure!” + </p> + <p> + The man who stood by the desk turned to him. The others were stricken + dumb. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “there’s some mistake. You told me to come here at + eight o’clock to meet a young lady whom I used to know. Well, I never saw + her before in my life,” he added, pointing to Maud. “There’s a man there + who wants to arrest me—Lord knows what for! And here’s Miss Brown, + whom I have seen at the theatre several times but who never condescended + to speak to me before, telling me not to shoot! What’s it all about, Ruff? + Is it a practical joke?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff laid down his coat and hat, and sat upon the table with his + hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible,” he said, “that I have made a mistake? Isn’t your second + name Spencer?” + </p> + <p> + The man shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “My name is James Fitzgerald,” he said. “I haven’t missed a day at the + Shaftesbury Theatre for three years, as you can find out by going round + the corner. I never called myself Spencer, I was never clerk in a + bookshop, and I never saw that lady before in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Maud came out from her place against the wall, and leaned eagerly forward. + John Dory turned his head slowly towards his wife. A sickening fear had + arisen in his heart—gripped him by the throat. Fooled once more, and + by Peter Ruff! + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t Spencer!” Maud said huskily. “Mr. Ruff,” she added, turning to + him, “you know very well that this is not the Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald whom + you promised to bring here to-night—Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald to whom I + was once engaged.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff pointed to the figure of her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, “my invitation did not include your husband.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory took a step forward, and laid his hands upon the shoulders of + the man who called himself Mr. James Fitzgerald. He looked into his face + long and carefully. Then he turned away, and, gripping his wife by the + arm, he passed out of the room. The door slammed behind him. The sound of + heavy footsteps was heard descending to the floor below. + </p> + <p> + Violet Brown crossed the room to where Peter Ruff was still sitting with a + queer look upon his face, and, gripping him by the shoulders, shook him. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you!” she exclaimed. “How dare you! Do you know that I have + nearly cried my eyes out?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff came back from the world into which, for the moment, his + thoughts had taken him. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, “you have known me for some years. You have been my + secretary for some months. If you choose still to take me for a fool, I + cannot help it.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” she exclaimed, pointing to Mr. James Fitzgerald— + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I have been practising on him for some time,” he said, with an air of + self-satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “A thin, mobile face, you see, and plenty of experience in the art of + making up. It is astonishing what one can do if one tries.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. James Fitzgerald picked up his hat and coat. + </p> + <p> + “It was worth more than five quid,” he growled; “when I saw the handcuffs + in that fellow’s hand, I felt a cold shiver go down my spine.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff counted out two banknotes and passed them to his confederate. + </p> + <p> + “You have earned the money,” he said. “Go and spend it. Perhaps, Violet,” + he added, turning towards her, “I have been a little inconsiderate. Come + and have dinner with me, and forget it.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + “You are sure,” she murmured, “that you wouldn’t rather take Maud?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE LITTLE LADY FROM SERVIA + </h2> + <p> + Westward sped the little electric brougham, driven without regard to + police regulations or any rule of the road: silent and swift, wholly + regardless of other vehicles—as though, indeed, its occupants were + assuming to themselves the rights of Royalty. Inside, Peter Ruff, a little + breathless, was leaning forward, tying his white cravat with the aid of + the little polished mirror set in the middle of the dark green cushions. + At his right hand was Lady Mary, watching his proceedings with an air of + agonised impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you—” she begged. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly wait till I have tied this and put my studs in,” Peter Ruff + interrupted. “It is impossible for me to arrive at a ball in this + condition, and I cannot give my whole attention to more than one thing at + a time.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall be there in five minutes!” she exclaimed. “What is the good, + unless you understand, of your coming at all?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff surveyed his tie critically. Fortunately, it pleased him. He + began to press the studs into their places with firm fingers. Around them + surged the traffic of Piccadilly; in front, the gleaming arc of lights + around Hyde Park Corner. They had several narrow escapes. Once the + brougham swayed dangerously as they cut in on the wrong side of an island + lamp-post. A policeman shouted after them, another held up his hand—the + driver of the brougham took no notice. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready,” Peter Ruff said, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “My younger brother—Maurice,” she began, breathlessly—“you’ve + never met him, I know, but you’ve heard me speak of him. He is private + secretary to Sir James Wentley—” + </p> + <p> + “Minister for Foreign Affairs?” Ruff asked, swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Maurice wants to go in for the Diplomatic Service. He is a dear, and + so clever!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it Maurice who is in trouble?” Peter Ruff asked. “Why didn’t he come + himself?” + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to explain,” Lady Mary protested. “This afternoon he had an + important paper to turn into cipher and hand over to the Prime Minister at + the Duchess of Montford’s dance to-night. The Prime Minister will arrive + in a motor car from the country at about two o’clock, and the first thing + he will ask for will be that paper. It has been stolen!” + </p> + <p> + “At what time did your brother finish copying it, and when did he discover + its loss?” Ruff asked, with a slight air of weariness. These preliminary + enquiries always bored him. + </p> + <p> + “He finished it in his own rooms at half-past seven,” Lady Mary answered. + “He discovered its loss at eleven o’clock—directly he had arrived at + the ball.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t he come to me himself?” Peter Ruff asked. “I like to have + these particulars at first hand.” + </p> + <p> + “He is in attendance upon Sir James at the ball,” Lady Mary answered. + “There is trouble in the East, as you know, and Sir James is expecting + dispatches to-night. Maurice is not allowed to leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he told Sir James yet?” + </p> + <p> + “He had not when I left,” Lady Mary answered. “If he is forced to do so, + it will be ruin! Mr. Ruff, you must help us Maurice is such a dear, but a + mistake like this, at the very beginning of his career, would be fatal. + Here we are. That is my brother waiting just inside the hall.” + </p> + <p> + A young man came up to them in the vestibule. He was somewhat pale, but + otherwise perfectly self-possessed. From the shine of his glossy black + hair to the tips of his patent boots he was, in appearance, everything + that a young Englishman of birth and athletic tastes could hope to be. + Peter Ruff liked the look of him. He waited for no introduction, but laid + his hand at once upon the young man’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Between seven-thirty and arriving here,” he said, drawing him on one side—“quick! + Tell me, whom did you see? What opportunities were there of stealing the + paper, and by whom?” + </p> + <p> + “I finished it at five and twenty past seven,” the young man said, “sealed + it in an official envelope, and stood it up on my desk by the side of my + coat and hat and muffler, which my servant had laid there, ready for me to + put on. My bedroom opens out from my sitting room. While I was dressing, + two men called for me—Paul Jermyn and Count von Hern. They walked + through to my bedroom first, and then sat together in the sitting room + until I came out. The door was wide open, and we talked all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “They called accidentally?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “No—by appointment,” the young man replied. “We were all coming on + here to the dance, and we had agreed to dine together first at the Savoy.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that you left the paper on your desk with your coat and hat?” + Peter Ruff asked. “Was it there when you came out?” + </p> + <p> + “Apparently so,” the young man answered. “It seemed to be standing in + exactly the same place as where I had left it. I put it into my breast + pocket, and it was only when I arrived here that I fancied the envelope + seemed lighter. I went off by myself and tore it open. There was nothing + inside but half a newspaper!” + </p> + <p> + “What about the envelope?” Peter Ruff asked. “That must have been the same + sort of one as you had used or you would have noticed it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was,” the Honorable Maurice answered. + </p> + <p> + “It was a sort which you kept in your room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” the young man admitted. + </p> + <p> + “The packet was changed, then, by some one in your room, or some one who + had access to it,” Peter Ruff said. “How about your servant?” + </p> + <p> + “It was his evening off. I let him put out my things and go at seven + o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “You must tell me the nature of the contents of the packet,” Peter Ruff + declared. “Don’t hesitate. You must do it. Remember the alternative.” + </p> + <p> + The young man did hesitate for several moments, but a glance into his + sister’s appealing face decided him. + </p> + <p> + “It was our official reply to a secret communication from Russia + respecting—a certain matter in the Balkans.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Count von Hern?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Inside, dancing.” + </p> + <p> + “I must use a telephone at once,” Peter Ruff said. “Ask one of the + servants here where I can find one.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was conducted to a gloomy waiting room, on the table of which + stood a small telephone instrument. He closed the door, but he was absent + for only a few minutes. When he rejoined Lady Mary and her brother they + were talking together in agitated whispers. The latter turned towards him + at once. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you suspect Count von Hern?” he asked, doubtfully. “He + is a friend of the Danish Minister’s, and every one says that he’s such a + good chap. He doesn’t seem to take the slightest interest in politics—spends + nearly all his time hunting or playing polo.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suspect any one,” Peter Ruff answered. “I only know that Count + von Hern is an Austrian spy, and that he took your paper! Has he been out + of your sight at all since you rejoined him in the sitting room? I mean to + say—had he any opportunity of leaving you during the time you were + dining together, or did he make any calls en route, either on the way to + the Savoy or from the Savoy here?” + </p> + <p> + The young man shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “He has not been out of my sight for a second.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the other man—Jermyn?” Peter Ruff asked. “I never heard of + him.” + </p> + <p> + “An American—cousin of the Duchess. He could not have had the + slightest interest in the affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Please take me into the ballroom,” Peter Ruff said to Lady Mary. “Your + brother had better not come with us. I want to be as near the Count von + Hern as possible.” + </p> + <p> + They passed into the crowded rooms, unnoticed, purposely avoiding the + little space where the Duchess was still receiving the late comers among + her guests. They found progress difficult, and Lady Mary felt her heart + sink as she glanced at the little jewelled watch which hung from her + wrist. Suddenly Peter Ruff came to a standstill. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t look for a moment,” he said, “but tell me as soon as you can—who + is that tall young man, like a Goliath, talking to the little dark woman? + You see whom I mean?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary nodded, and they passed on. In a moment or two she answered him. + </p> + <p> + “How strange that you should ask!” she whispered in his ear. “That is Mr. + Jermyn.” + </p> + <p> + They were on the outskirts now of the ballroom itself. One of Lady Mary’s + partners came up with an open programme and a face full of reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Do please forgive me, Captain Henderson,” Lady Mary begged. “I have hurt + my foot, and I am not dancing any more.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely I was to take you in to supper?” the young officer protested, + good-humouredly. “Don’t tell me that you are going to cut that?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to cut everything to-night with everybody,” Lady Mary said. + “Please forgive me. Come to tea to-morrow and I’ll explain.” + </p> + <p> + The young man bowed, and, with a curious glance at Ruff, accepted his + dismissal. Another partner was simply waved away. + </p> + <p> + “Please turn round and come back,” Peter Ruff said. “I want to see those + two again.” + </p> + <p> + “But we haven’t found Count von Hern yet,” she protested. “Surely that is + more important, is it not? I believe that I saw him dancing just now—there, + with the tall girl in yellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about him, for the moment,” Ruff answered. “Walk down this + corridor with me. Do you mind talking all the time, please? It will sound + more natural, and I want to listen.” + </p> + <p> + The young American and his partner had found a more retired seat now, + about three quarters of the way down the pillared vestibule which bordered + the ballroom. He was bending over his companion with an air of + unmistakable devotion, but it was she who talked. She seemed, indeed, to + have a good deal to say to him. The slim white fingers of one hand played + all the time with a string of magnificent pearls. Her dark, soft eyes—black + as aloes and absolutely un-English—flashed into his. A delightful + smile hovered at the corners of her lips. All the time she was talking and + he was listening. Lady Mary and her partner passed by unnoticed. At the + end of the vestibule they turned and retraced their steps. Peter Ruff was + very quiet—he had caught a few of those rapid words. But the woman’s + foreign accent had troubled him. + </p> + <p> + “If only she would speak in her own language!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary’s hand suddenly tightened upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” she exclaimed. “That is Count von Hern!” + </p> + <p> + A tall, fair young man, very exact in his dress, very stiff in his + carriage, with a not unpleasant face, was standing talking to Jermyn and + his companion. Jermyn, who apparently found the intrusion an annoyance, + was listening to the conversation between the two, with a frown upon his + face and a general attitude of irritation. As Lady Mary and her escort + drew near, the reason for the young American’s annoyance became clearer—his + two companions were talking softly, but with great animation, in a foreign + language, which it was obvious that he did not understand. Peter Ruff’s + elbow pressed against his partner’s arm, and their pace slackened. He + ventured, even, to pause for a moment, looking into the ballroom as though + in search of some one, and he had by no means the appearance of a man + likely to understand Hungarian. Then, to Lady Mary’s surprise, he touched + the Count von Hern on the shoulder and addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “but I fancy that we accidentally + exchanged programmes, a few minutes ago, at the buffet. I have lost mine + and picked up one which does not belong to me. As we were standing side by + side, it is possibly yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe not, sir,” he answered, with that pleasant smile which had gone + such a long way toward winning him the reputation of being “a good fellow” + amongst a fairly large circle of friends. “I believe at any rate,” he + added, glancing at his programme, “that this is my own. You mistake me, + probably, for some one else.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff, without saying a word, was actor enough to suggest that he was + unconvinced. The Count good-humouredly held out his programme. + </p> + <p> + “You shall see for yourself,” he remarked. “That is not yours, is it? + Besides, I have not been to the buffet at all this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff cast a swift glance down the programme which the Count had + handed him. Then he apologised profusely. + </p> + <p> + “I was mistaken,” he admitted. “I am very sorry.” + </p> + <p> + The Count bowed. + </p> + <p> + “It is of no consequence, sir,” he said, and resumed his conversation. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff passed on with Lady Mary. At a safe distance, she glanced at + him enquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “It was his programme I wanted to see,” Peter Ruff explained. “It is as I + thought. He has had four dances with the Countess—” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” Lady Mary asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “The little dark lady with whom he is talking now,” Peter Ruff continued. + “He seems, too, to be going early. He has no dances reserved after the + twelfth. We will go downstairs at once, if you please. I must speak to + your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been able to think of anything?” she asked, anxiously. “Is there + any chance at all, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so,” Peter Ruff answered. “It is most interesting. Don’t be too + sanguine, though. The odds are against us, and the time is very short. Is + the driver of your electric brougham to be trusted?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely,” she assured him. “He is an old servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you lend him to me?” Peter Ruff asked, “and tell him that he is to + obey my instructions absolutely?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she answered. “You are going away, then?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. He was a little sparing of words just then. The + thoughts were chasing one another through his brain. He was listening, + too, for the sweep of a dress behind. + </p> + <p> + “Is there nothing I can do?” Lady Mary begged, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. In the distance he saw the Honourable Maurice + come quickly toward them. With a firm but imperceptible gesture he waved + him away. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let your brother speak to me,” he said. “We can’t tell who is + behind. What time did you say the Prime Minister was expected?” + </p> + <p> + “At two o’clock,” Lady Mary said, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff glanced at his watch. It was already half an hour past + midnight. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said, “I will do what I can. If my theory is wrong, it + will be nothing. If I am right—well, there is a chance, anyhow. In + the meantime—” + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime?” she repeated, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Take your brother back to the ballroom,” Peter Ruff directed. “Make him + dance—dance yourself. Don’t give yourselves away by looking anxious. + When the time is short—say at a quarter to two—he can come + down here and wait for me.” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t come!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Then we shall have lost,” Peter Ruff said, calmly. “If you don’t see me + again to-night, you had better read the newspapers carefully for the next + few days.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to do something dangerous!” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “There is danger in interfering at all in such a matter as this,” he + answered, “but you must remember that it is not only my profession—it + is my hobby. Remember, too,” he added, with a smile, “that I do not often + lose!” + </p> + <p> + For twenty minutes Peter Ruff sat in the remote corner of Lady Mary’s + electric brougham, drawn up at the other side of the Square, and waited. + At last he pressed a button. They glided off. Before them was a large, + closed motor car. They started in discreet chase. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, however, the chase was not a long one. The car which Peter + Ruff had been following was drawn up before a plain, solid-looking house, + unlit and of gloomy appearance. The little lady with the wonderful eyes + was already halfway up the flagged steps. Hastily lifting the flap and + looking behind as they passed, her pursuer saw her open the door with a + latchkey, and disappear. Peter Ruff pulled the check-string and descended. + For several moments he stood and observed the house into which the lady + whom he had been following had disappeared. Then he turned to the driver. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to watch that house,” he said, “never to take your eyes off + it. When I reappear from it, if I do at all, I shall probably be in a + hurry. Directly you see me be on your box ready to start. A good deal may + depend upon our getting away quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir,” the man answered. “How long am I to wait here for you?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff’s lips twisted into a curious little smile. + </p> + <p> + “Until two o’clock,” he answered. “If I am not out by then, you needn’t + bother any more about me. You can return and tell your mistress exactly + what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t I better come and try and get you out, sir?” the man asked. + “Begging your pardon, but her Ladyship told me that there might be queer + doings. I’m a bit useful in a scrap, sir,” he added. “I do a bit of + sparring regularly.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “If there’s any scrap at all,” he said, “you had better be out of it. Do + as I have said.” + </p> + <p> + The motor car had turned round and disappeared now, and in a few moments + Peter Ruff stood before the door of the house into which the little lady + had disappeared. The problem of entrance was already solved for him. The + door had been left unlatched; only a footstool had been placed against it + inside. Peter Ruff, without hesitation, pushed the door softly open and + entered, replaced the footstool in its former position, and stood with his + back to the wall, in the darkest corner of the hall, looking around him—listening + intently. Nearly opposite the door of a room stood ajar. It was apparently + lit up, but there was no sound of any one moving inside. Upstairs, in one + of the rooms on the first floor, he could hear light footsteps—a + woman’s voice humming a song. He listened to the first few bars, and + understanding became easier. Those first few bars were the opening ones of + the Servian national anthem! + </p> + <p> + With an effort, Peter Ruff concentrated his thoughts upon the immediate + present. The little lady was upstairs. The servants had apparently retired + for the night. He crept up to the half-open door and peered in. The room, + as he had hoped to find it, was empty, but Madame’s easy-chair was drawn + up to the fire, and some coffee stood upon the hob. Stealthily Peter Ruff + crept in and glanced around, seeking for a hiding place. A movement + upstairs hastened his decision. He pushed aside the massive curtains which + separated this from a connecting room. He had scarcely done so when light + footsteps were heard descending the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff found his hiding place all that could have been desired. This + secondary room itself was almost in darkness, but he was just able to + appreciate the comforting fact that it possessed a separate exit into the + hall. Through the folds of the curtain he had a complete view of the + further apartment. The little lady had changed her gown of stiff white + satin for one of flimsier material, and, seated in the easy-chair, she was + busy pouring herself out some coffee. She took a cigarette from a silver + box, and lighting it, curled herself up in the chair and composed herself + as though to listen. To her as well as to Peter Ruff, as he crouched in + his hiding place, the moments seemed to pass slowly enough. Yet, as he + realised afterward, it could not have been ten minutes before she sat + upright in a listening attitude. There was some one coming! Peter Ruff, + too, heard a man’s firm footsteps come up the flagged stones. + </p> + <p> + The little lady sprang to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Paul!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Paul Jermyn came slowly to meet her. He seemed a little out of breath. His + tie was all disarranged and his collar unfastened. + </p> + <p> + The little lady, however, noticed none of these things. She looked only + into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got it?” she asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + He thrust his hand into his breast-coat pocket, and held an envelope out + toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” he answered. “I promised!” + </p> + <p> + She gave a little sob, and with the packet in her hand came running + straight toward the spot where Peter Ruff was hiding. + </p> + <p> + He shrank back as far as possible. She stopped just short of the curtain, + opened the drawer of a table which stood there, and slipped the packet in. + Then she came back once more to where Paul Jermyn was standing. + </p> + <p> + “My friend!” she cried, holding out her hands—“my dear, dear friend! + Shall I ever be able to thank you enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if you try,” he answered, smiling, “I think that you could!” + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand upon his arm—a little caressing, foreign gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she said, “how did you manage it?” + </p> + <p> + “We left the dance together,” Jermyn said. “I could see that he wanted to + get rid of me, but I offered to take him in my motor car. I told the man + to choose some back streets, and while we were passing through one of + them, I took Von Hern by the throat. We had a struggle, of course, but I + got the paper.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do with Von Hern?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I left him on his doorstep,” the young American answered. “He wasn’t + really hurt, but he was only half conscious. I don’t think he’ll bother + any one to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “You dear, brave man!” she murmured. “Paul, what am I to say to you?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I’m here to ask,” he declared. “You wouldn’t give me my + answer at the ball. Perhaps you’ll give it me now?” + </p> + <p> + They sprang apart. Ruff felt his nerves stiffen—felt himself + constrained to hold even his breath as he widened a little the crack in + the curtains. This was no stealthy entrance. The door had been flung open. + Von Hern, his dress in wild disorder, pale as a ghost, and with a great + bloodstain upon his cheek, stood confronting them. + </p> + <p> + “When you have done with your love-making,” he called out, “I’ll trouble + you to restore my property!” + </p> + <p> + The electric light gleamed upon a small revolver which flashed out toward + the young American. Paul Jermyn never hesitated for a moment. He seized + the chair by his side and flung it at Von Hern. There was a shot, the + crash of the falling chair, a cry from Jermyn, who never hesitated, + however, in his rush. The two men closed. A second shot went harmlessly to + the ceiling. The little lady stole away—stole softly across the room + toward the table. She opened the drawer. Suddenly the blood in her veins + was frozen into fear. From nowhere, it seemed to her, came a hand which + held her wrists like iron! + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” Peter Ruff whispered from behind the curtain, “I am sorry to + deprive you of it, but this is stolen property.” + </p> + <p> + Her screams rang through the room. Even the two men released one another. + </p> + <p> + “It is gone! It is gone!” she cried. “Some one was hiding in the room! + Quick!” + </p> + <p> + She sprang into the hall. The two men followed her. The front door was + slammed. They heard flying footsteps outside. Von Hern was out first, + clearing the little flight of steps in one bound. Across the road he saw a + flying figure. A level stream of fire poured from his hand—twice, + three times. But Peter Ruff never faltered. Round the corner he tore. The + man had kept his word—the brougham was already moving slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Jump in, sir,” the man cried. “Throw yourself in. Never mind about the + door.” + </p> + <p> + They heard the shouts behind. Peter Ruff did as he was bid, and sat upon + the floor, raising himself gradually to the seat when they had turned + another corner. Then he put his head out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Back to the Duchess of Montford’s!” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + The latest of the guests had ceased to arrive—a few were already + departing. It was an idle time, however, with the servants who loitered in + the vestibules of Montford House, and they looked with curiosity upon this + strange guest who arrived at five minutes to two, limping a little, and + holding his left arm in his right hand. One footman on the threshold + nearly addressed him, but the words were taken out of his mouth when he + saw Lady Mary and her brother—the Honorable Maurice Sotherst—hasten + forward to greet him. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff smiled upon them benignly. + </p> + <p> + “You can take the paper out of my breast-coat pocket,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The young man’s fingers gripped it. Through Lady Mary’s great + thankfulness, however, the sudden fear came shivering. + </p> + <p> + “You are hurt!” she whispered. “There is blood on your sleeve.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a graze,” Peter Ruff answered. “Von Hern wasn’t much good at a + running target. Back to the ballroom, young man,” he added. “Don’t you see + who’s coming?” + </p> + <p> + The Prime Minister came up the tented way into Montford House. He, too, + wondered a little at the man whom he met on his way out, holding his left + arm, and looking more as though he had emerged from a street fight than + from the Duchess of Montford’s ball. Peter Ruff went home smiling. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE DEMAND OF THE DOUBLE-FOUR + </h2> + <p> + It was about this time that Peter Ruff found among his letters one morning + a highly-scented little missive, addressed to him in a handwriting with + which he had once been familiar. He looked at it for several moments + before opening it. Even as the paper cutter slid through the top of the + envelope, he felt that he had already divined the nature of its contents. + </p> + <p> + FRIVOLITY THEATRE + </p> + <p> + March 10th + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR Mr. RUFF: I expect that you will be surprised to hear from me + again, but I do hope that you will not be annoyed. I know that I behaved + very horridly a little time ago, but it was not altogether my fault, and I + have been more sorry for it than I can tell you—in fact, John and I + have never been the same since, and for the present, at any rate, I have + left him and gone on the stage. A lady whom I knew got me a place in the + chorus here, and so far I like it immensely. + </p> + <p> + Won’t you come and meet me after the show to-morrow night, and I will tell + you all about it? I should like so much to see you again. + </p> + <p> + MAUD. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff placed this letter in his breast-coat pocket, and withheld it + from his secretary’s notice. He felt, however, very little pleasure at the + invitation it conveyed. He hesitated for some time, in fact, whether to + accept it or not. Finally, after his modest dinner that evening, he bought + a stall for the Frivolity and watched the piece. The girl he had come to + see was there in the second row of the chorus, but she certainly did not + look her best in the somewhat scant costume required by the part. She + showed no signs whatever of any special ability—neither her dancing + nor her singing seemed to entitle her to any consideration. She carried + herself with a certain amount of self-consciousness, and her eyes seemed + perpetually fixed upon the occupants of the stalls. Peter Ruff laid down + his glasses with something between a sigh and a groan. There was something + to him inexpressibly sad in the sight of his old sweetheart so + transformed, so utterly changed from the prim, somewhat genteel young + person who had accepted his modest advances with such ladylike diffidence. + She seemed, indeed, to have lost those very gifts which had first + attracted him. Nevertheless, he kept his appointment at the stage-door. + </p> + <p> + She was among the first to come out, and she greeted him warmly—almost + noisily. With her new profession, she seemed to have adopted a different + and certainly more flamboyant deportment. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you’d come to-night,” she declared, with an arch look. “I felt + certain I saw you in the stalls. You are going to take me to supper, + aren’t you? Shall we go to the Milan?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff assented without enthusiasm, handed her into a hansom, and took + his place beside her. She wore a very large hat, untidily put on; some of + the paint seemed still to be upon her face; her voice, too, seemed to have + become louder, and her manner more assertive. There were obvious + indications that she no longer considered brandy and soda an unladylike + beverage. Peter Ruff was not pleased with himself or proud of his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll take some wine?” he suggested, after he had ordered, with a few + hints from her, a somewhat extensive supper. + </p> + <p> + “Champagne,” she answered, decidedly. “I’ve got quite used to it, + nowadays,” she went on. “I could laugh to think how strange it tasted when + you first took me out.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” Peter Ruff said, “why you have left your husband?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Because he was dull and because he was cross,” she answered, “and because + the life down at Streatham was simply intolerable. I think it was a little + your fault, too,” she said, making eyes; at him across the table. “You + gave me a taste of what life was like outside Streatham, and I never + forgot it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff did not respond—he led the conversation, indeed, into + other channels. On the whole, the supper was scarcely a success. Maud, who + was growing to consider herself something of a Bohemian, and who certainly + looked for some touch of sentiment on the part of her old admirer, was + annoyed by the quiet deference with which he treated her. She reproached + him with it once, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” she exclaimed, “you don’t seem to want to be so friendly as you + did! You haven’t forgiven me yet, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It is not that,” he said, “but I think that you have scarcely done a wise + thing in leaving your husband. I cannot think that this life on the stage + is good for you.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “I never thought to have you preaching at me!” + </p> + <p> + They finished their supper. Maud accepted a cigarette and did her best to + change her companion’s mood. She only alluded once more to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see how I could have stayed with him, anyhow,” she said. “You + know, he’s been put back—he only gets two pounds fifteen a week now. + He couldn’t expect me to live upon that.” + </p> + <p> + “Put back?” Peter Ruff repeated. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He seemed to have a lot of bad luck this last year,” she said. “All his + cases went wrong, and they don’t think so much of him at Scotland Yard as + they did. I am not sure that he hasn’t begun to drink a little.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear it,” Peter Ruff said, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see why you should be,” she answered, bluntly. “He was no friend + of yours, nor isn’t now. He may not be so dangerous as he was, but if ever + you come across him, you take my tip and be careful. He means to do you a + mischief some day, if he can. I am not sure,” she added, “that he doesn’t + believe that it was partly your fault about my leaving home.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be sorry for him to think that,” Peter Ruff answered. “While we + are upon the subject, can’t you tell me exactly why your husband dislikes + me so?” + </p> + <p> + “For one thing, because you have been up against him in several of his + cases, and have always won.” + </p> + <p> + “And for the other?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, doubtfully, “he seems to connect you in his mind, + somehow, with a boy who was in love with me once—Mr. Spencer + Fitzgerald—you know who I mean.” + </p> + <p> + Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He still has that in his mind, has he?” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’s mad!” she declared. “However, don’t let us talk about him any + more.” + </p> + <p> + The lights were being put out. Peter Ruff paid his bill and they rose + together. + </p> + <p> + “Come down to the fiat for an hour or so,” she begged, taking his arm. “I + have a dear little place with another girl—Carrie Pearce. I’ll sing + to you, if you like. Come down and have one drink, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head firmly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “but you must excuse me. In some ways, I am very + old-fashioned,” he added. “I never sit up late, and I hate music.” + </p> + <p> + “Just drive as far as the door with me, then,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me,” he said, handing her into the hansom. “And, Maud,” + he added—“if I may call you so—take my advice: give it up—go + back to your husband and stick to him—you’ll be better off in the + long run.” + </p> + <p> + She would have answered him scornfully, but there was something impressive + in the crisp, clear words—in his expression, too, as he looked into + her eyes. She threw herself back in a corner of the cab with an affected + little laugh, and turned her head away from him. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff walked back into the cloak-room for his coat and hat, and + sighed softly to himself. It was the end of the one sentimental episode of + his life! + </p> + <p> + It had been the study of Peter Ruff’s life, so far as possible, to + maintain under all circumstances an equable temperament, to refuse to + recognize the meaning of the word “nerves,” and to be guided in all his + actions by that profound common sense which was one of his natural gifts. + Yet there were times when, like any other ordinary person, he suffered + acutely from presentiments. He left his rooms, for instance, at five + o’clock on the afternoon of the day following his supper with Maud, + suffering from a sense of depression for which he found it altogether + impossible to account. It was true that the letter which he had in his + pocket, the appointment which he was on his way to keep, were both of them + probable sources of embarrassment and annoyance, if not of danger. He was + being invited, without the option of refusal, to enter upon some risky + undertaking which would yield him neither fee nor reward. Yet his common + sense told him that it was part of the game. In Paris, he had looked upon + his admittance into the order of the “Double-Four” as one of the + stepping-stones to success in his career. Through them he had gained + knowledge which he could have acquired in no other way. Through them, for + instance, he had acquired the information that Madame la Comtesse de + Pilitz was a Servian patriot and a friend of the Crown Prince; and that + the Count von Hern, posing in England as a sportsman and an idler, was a + highly paid and dangerous Austrian spy. There had been other occasions, + too, upon which they had come to his aid. Now they had made an appeal to + him—an appeal which must be obeyed. His time—perhaps, even, + his safety—must be placed entirely at their disposal. It was only an + ordinary return a thing expected of him—a thing which he dared not + refuse. Yet he knew very well what he could not explain to them—that + the whole success of his life depended so absolutely upon his remaining + free from any suspicion of wrong-doing, that he had received his summons + with something like dismay, and proceeded to obey it with unaccustomed + reluctance. + </p> + <p> + He drove to Cirey’s cafe in Regent Street, where he dismissed the driver + of his hansom and strolled in with the air of an habitue. He selected a + corner table, ordered some refreshment, and asked for a box of dominoes. + The place was fairly well filled. A few women were sitting about; a + sprinkling of Frenchmen were taking their aperitif; here and there a man + of affairs, on his way from the city, had called in for a glass of + vermouth. Peter Ruff looked them over, recognizing the type—recognizing, + even, some of their faces. Apparently, the person whom he was to meet had + not yet arrived. + </p> + <p> + He lit a cigarette and smoked slowly. Presently the door opened and a + woman entered in a long fur coat, a large hat, and a thick veil. She + raised it to glance around, disclosing the unnaturally pale face and dark, + swollen eyes of a certain type of Frenchwoman. She seemed to notice no one + in particular. Her eyes traveled over Peter Ruff without any sign of + interest. Nevertheless, she took a seat somewhere near his and ordered + some vermouth from the waiter, whom she addressed by name. When she had + been served and the waiter had departed, she looked curiously at the + dominoes which stood before her neighbor. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur plays dominoes, perhaps?” she remarked, taking one of them into + her fingers and examining it. “A very interesting game!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff showed her a domino which he had been covering with his hand—it + was a double four. She nodded, and moved from her seat to one immediately + next him. + </p> + <p> + “I had not imagined,” Peter Ruff said, “that it was a lady whom I was to + meet.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is not disappointed, I trust?” she said, smiling. “If I talk + banalities, Monsieur must pardon it. Both the waiters here are spies, and + there are always people who watch. Monsieur is ready to do us a service?” + </p> + <p> + “To the limits of my ability,” Peter Ruff answered. “Madame will remember + that we are not in Paris; that our police system, if not so wonderful as + yours, is still a closer and a more present thing. They have not the + brains at Scotland Yard, but they are persistent—hard to escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I not know it?” the woman said. “It is through them that we send for + you. One of us is in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I know him?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is doubtful,” she answered. “Monsieur’s stay in Paris was so brief. If + Monsieur will recognize his name—it is Jean Lemaitre himself.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff started slightly. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” he said, with some hesitation, “that Lemaitre did not visit + this country.” + </p> + <p> + “He came well disguised,” the woman answered. “It was thought to be safe. + Nevertheless, it was a foolish thing. They have tracked him down from + hotel to apartments, till he lives now in the back room of a wretched + little cafe in Soho. Even from there we cannot get him away—the + whole district is watched by spies. We need help.” + </p> + <p> + “For a genius like Lemaitre,” Peter Ruff said, thoughtfully, “to have even + thought of Soho, was foolish. He should have gone to Hampstead or Balham. + It is easy to fool our police if you know how. On the other hand, they + hang on to the scent like leeches when once they are on the trail. How + many warrants are there out against Jean in this country?” + </p> + <p> + “Better not ask that,” the woman said, grimly. “You remember the raid on a + private house in the Holloway Road, two years ago, when two policemen were + shot and a spy was stabbed? Jean was in that—it is sufficient!” + </p> + <p> + “Are any plans made at all?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “But naturally,” the woman answered. “There is a motor car, even now, of + sixty-horse-power, stands ready at a garage in Putney. If Jean can once + reach it, he can reach the coast. At a certain spot near Southampton there + is a small steamer waiting. After that, everything is easy.” + </p> + <p> + “My task, then,” Peter Ruff said, thoughtfully, “is to take Jean Lemaitre + from this cafe in Soho, as far as Putney, and get him a fair start?” + </p> + <p> + “It is enough,” she answered. “There is a cordon of spies around the + district. Every day they seem to chose in upon us. They search the houses, + one by one. Only last night, the Hotel de Netherlands—a miserable + little place on the other side of the street—was suddenly surrounded + by policemen and every room ransacked. It may be our turn to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “In one hour’s time,” Peter Ruff said, glancing at his watch, “I shall + present myself as a doctor at the cafe. Tell me the address. Tell me what + to say which will insure my admission to Jean Lemaitre!” + </p> + <p> + “The cafe,” she answered, “is called the Hotel de Flandres. You enter the + restaurant and you walk to the desk. There you find always Monsieur + Antoine. You say to him simply—‘The Double-Four!’ He will answer + that he understands, and he will conduct you at once to Lemaitre.” + </p> + <p> + Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime,” he said, “let it be understood in the cafe—if + there is any one who is not in the secret—that one of the waiters is + sick. I shall come to attend him.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “As well that way as any other,” she answered. “Monsieur is very kind. A + bientot!” + </p> + <p> + She shook hands and they parted. Peter Ruff drove back to his rooms, rang + up an adjoining garage for a small covered car such as are usually let out + to medical men, and commenced to pack a small black bag with the outfit + necessary for his purpose. Now that he was actually immersed in his work, + the sense of depression had passed away. The keen stimulus of danger had + quickened his blood. He knew very well that the woman had not exaggerated. + There was no man more wanted by the French or the English police than the + man who had sought his aid, and the district in which he had taken shelter + was, in some respects, the very worst for his purpose. Nevertheless, Peter + Ruff, who believed, at the bottom of his heart, in his star, went on with + his preparations feeling morally certain that Jean Lemaitre would sleep on + the following night in his native land. + </p> + <p> + At precisely the hour agreed upon, a small motor brougham pulled up + outside the door of the Hotel de Flandres and its occupant—whom + ninety-nine men out of a hundred would at once, unhesitatingly, have + declared to be a doctor in moderate practice—pushed open the swing + doors of the restaurant and made his way to the desk. He was of medium + height; he wore a frock-coat—a little frayed; gray trousers which + had not been recently pressed; and thick boots. + </p> + <p> + “I understand that one of your waiters requires my attendance,” he said, + in a tone not unduly raised but still fairly audible. “I am Dr. Gilette.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Gilette,” Antoine repeated, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And number Double-Four,” the doctor murmured. + </p> + <p> + Antoine descended from his desk. + </p> + <p> + “But certainly, Monsieur!” he said. “The poor fellow declares that he + suffers. If he is really ill, he must go. It sounds brutal, but what can + one do? We have so few rooms here, and so much business. Monsieur will + come this way?” + </p> + <p> + Antoine led the way from the cafe into a very smelly region of narrow + passages and steep stairs. + </p> + <p> + “It is to be arranged?” Antoine whispered, as they ascended. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” the doctor answered. “Were there spies in the cafe?” + </p> + <p> + “Two,” Antoine answered. + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded, and said no more. He mounted to the third story. + Antoine led him through a small sitting-room and knocked four times upon + the door of an inner room. It suddenly was opened. A man—unshaven, + terrified, with that nameless fear in his face which one sees reflected in + the expression of some trapped animal—stood there looking out at + them. + </p> + <p> + “‘Double-Four’!” the doctor said, softly. “Go back into the room, please. + Antoine will kindly leave us.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” the man gasped. + </p> + <p> + “‘Double-Four’!” the doctor answered. “Obey me, and be quick for your + life! Strip!” + </p> + <p> + The man obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Barely twenty minutes later, the doctor—still carrying his bag—descended + the stairs. He entered the cafe from a somewhat remote door. Antoine + hurried to meet him, and walked by his side through the place. He asked + many questions, but the doctor contented himself with shaking his head. + Almost in silence he left Antoine, who conducted him even to the door of + his motor. The proprietor of the cafe watched the brougham disappear, and + then returned to his desk, sighing heavily. + </p> + <p> + A man who had been sipping a liqueur dose at hand, laid down his paper. + </p> + <p> + “One of your waiters ill, did I understand?” he asked. Monsieur Antoine + was at once eloquent. It was the ill-fortune which had dogged him for the + last four months! The man had been taken ill there in the restaurant. He + was a Gascon—spoke no English—and had just arrived. It was not + possible for him to be removed at the moment, so he had been carried to an + empty bedroom. Then had come the doctor and forbidden his removal. Now for + a week he had lain there and several of his other voyageurs had departed. + One did not know how these things got about, but they spoke of infection. + The doctor, who had just left—Dr. Gilette of Russell Square, a most + famous physician—had assured him that there was no infection—no + fear of any. But what did it matter—that? People were so hard to + convince. Monsieur would like a cigar? But certainly! There were here some + of the best. + </p> + <p> + Antoine undid the cabinet and opened a box of Havanas. John Dory selected + one and called for another liqueur. + </p> + <p> + “You have trouble often with your waiters, I dare say,” he remarked. “They + tell me that all Frenchmen who break the law in their own country, find + their way, sooner or later, to these parts. You have to take them without + characters, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + Antoine lifted his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “But what could one do?” he exclaimed. “Characters, they were easy enough + to write—but were they worth the paper they were written on? Indeed + no!” + </p> + <p> + “Not only your waiters,” Dory continued, “but those who stay in the hotels + round here have sometimes an evil name.” + </p> + <p> + Antoine shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “For myself,” he said, “I am particular. We have but a few rooms, but we + are careful to whom we let them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you keep a visitors’ book?” + </p> + <p> + “But no, Monsieur!” Antoine protested. “For why the necessity? There are + so few who come to stay for more than the night—just now scarcely + any one at all.” + </p> + <p> + There entered, at that moment, a tall, thin man dressed in dark clothes, + who walked with his hands in his overcoat pockets, as though it were a + habit. He came straight to Dory and handed him a piece of paper. + </p> + <p> + John Dory glanced it through and rose to his feet. A gleam of satisfaction + lit his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Antoine,” he said, “I am sorry to cause you any inconvenience, + but here is my card. I am a detective officer from Scotland Yard, and I + have received information which compels me with your permission, to + examine at once the sleeping apartments in your hotel.” + </p> + <p> + Antoine was fiercely indignant. + </p> + <p> + “But, Monsieur!” he exclaimed. “I do not understand! Examine my rooms? But + it is impossible! Who dares to say that I harbor criminals?” + </p> + <p> + “I have information upon which I can rely,” John Dory answered, firmly. + “This comes from a man who is no friend of mine, but he is well-known. You + can read for yourself what he says.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Antoine, with trembling fingers, took the piece of paper from + John Dory’s hands. It was addressed to— + </p> + <p> + Mr. JOHN DORY, DETECTIVE: + </p> + <p> + If you wish to find Jean Lemaitre, search in the upper rooms of the Hotel + de Flandres. I have certain information that he is to be found there. + </p> + <p> + PETER RUFF. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” Antoine declared, “will I suffer such an indignity!” + </p> + <p> + Dory raised a police whistle to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “You are foolish,” he said. “Already there is a cordon of men about the + place. If you refuse to conduct me upstairs I shall at once place you + under arrest.” + </p> + <p> + Antoine, white with fear, poured himself out a liqueur of brandy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said, “what must be done, then! Come!” + </p> + <p> + He led the way out into that smelly network of passages, up the stairs to + the first floor. Room after room he threw open and begged Dory to examine. + Some of them were garishly furnished with gilt mirrors, cheap lace + curtains tied back with blue ribbons. Others were dark, miserable holes, + into which the fresh air seemed never to have penetrated. On the third + floor they reached the little sitting-room, which bore more traces of + occupation than some of the rooms below. Antoine would have passed on, but + Dory stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “There is a door there,” he said. “We will try that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the sick waiter who lies within,” Antoine protested. “Monsieur can + hear him groan.” + </p> + <p> + There was, indeed, something which sounded like a groan to be heard, but + Dory was obstinate. + </p> + <p> + “If he is so ill,” he demanded, “how is he able to lock the door on the + inside? Monsieur Antoine, that door must be opened.” + </p> + <p> + Antoine knocked at it softly. + </p> + <p> + “Francois,” he said, “there is another doctor here who would see you. Let + us in.” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer, Antoine turned to his companion with a little shrug + of the shoulders, as one who would say—“I have done my best. What + would you have?” + </p> + <p> + Dory put his shoulder to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he shouted through the keyhole, “Mr. Sick Waiter, or whoever you + are, if you do not unlock this door, I am coming in!” + </p> + <p> + “I have no key,” said a faint voice. “I am locked in. Please break open + the door.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is not the Voice of Francois!” Antoine exclaimed, in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll soon see who it is,” Dory answered. + </p> + <p> + He charged at the door fiercely. At the third assault it gave way. They + found themselves in a small back bedroom, and stretched on the floor, very + pale, and apparently only half-conscious, lay Peter Ruff. There was a + strong smell of chloroform about. John Dory threw open the window. His + fingers trembled a little. It was like Fate—this! At the end of + every unsuccessful effort there was this man—Peter Ruff! + </p> + <p> + “What the devil are you doing here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Help me up,” he begged, “and give me a little brandy.” + </p> + <p> + Antoine set him in an easy-chair and rang the bell furiously. + </p> + <p> + “It will come directly!” he exclaimed. “But who are you?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff waited for the brandy. When he had sipped it, he drew a little + breath as though of relief. + </p> + <p> + “I heard,” he said, speaking still with an evident effort, “that Lemaitre + was here. I had secret information. I thought at first that I would let + you know—I sent you a note early this morning. Afterwards, I + discovered that there was a reward, and I determined to track him down + myself. He was in here hiding as a sick waiter. I do not think,” Peter + Ruff added, “that Monsieur Antoine had any idea. I presented myself as + representing a charitable society, and I was shown here to visit him. He + was too clever, though, was Jean Lemaitre—too quick for me.” + </p> + <p> + “You were a fool to come alone!” John Dory said. “Don’t you know the man’s + record? How long ago did he leave?” + </p> + <p> + “About ten minutes,” Peter Ruff answered. “You must have missed him + somewhere as you came up. I crawled to the window and I watched him go. He + left the restaurant by the side entrance, and took a taxicab at the corner + there. It went northward toward New Oxford Street.” + </p> + <p> + Dory turned on his heel—they heard him descending the stairs. Peter + Ruff rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, as he plunged his head into a basin of water, and + came into the middle of the room rubbing it vigorously with a small towel, + “I am afraid that our friend John Dory will get to dislike me soon! He + passed out unnoticed, eh, Antoine?” + </p> + <p> + Antoine’s face wore a look of great relief. + </p> + <p> + “There was not a soul who looked,” he said. “We passed under the nose of + the gentleman from Scotland Yard. He sat there reading his paper; and he + had no idea. I watched Jean step into the motor. Even by now he is well on + his way southwards. Twice he changes from motor to train, and back. They + will never trace him.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff, who was looking amazingly better, sipped a further glass of + liqueur. Together he and Antoine descended to the street. + </p> + <p> + “Mind,” Peter Ruff whispered, “I consider that accounts are squared + between me and ‘Double-Four’ now. Let them know that. This sort of thing + isn’t in my line.” + </p> + <p> + “For an amateur,” Antoine said, bowing low, “Monsieur commands my + heartfelt congratulations!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. Mrs. BOGNOR’S STAR BOARDER + </h2> + <p> + In these days, the duties of Miss Brown as Peter Ruff’s secretary had + become multifarious. Together with the transcribing of a vast number of + notes concerning cases, some of which he undertook and some of which he + refused, she had also to keep his cash book, a note of his investments and + a record of his social engagements. Notwithstanding all these demands upon + her time, however, there were occasions when she found herself, of + necessity, idle. In one of these she broached the subject which had often + been in her mind. They were alone, and not expecting callers. + Consequently, she sat upon the hearthrug and addressed her employer by his + Christian name. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she said softly, “do you remember the night when you came through + the fog and burst into my little flat?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite well,” he answered, “but it is a subject to which I prefer that you + do not allude.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be careful,” she answered. “I only spoke of it for this reason. + Before you left, when we were sitting together, you sketched out the + career which you proposed for yourself. In many respects, I suppose, you + have been highly successful, but I wonder if it has ever occurred to you + that your work has not proceeded upon the lines which you first + indicated?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I think I know what you mean,” he said. “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “That night,” she murmured softly, “you spoke as a hunted man; you spoke + as one at war with Society; you spoke as one who proposes almost a + campaign against it. When you took your rooms here and called yourself + Peter Ruff, it was rather in your mind to aid the criminal than to detect + the crime. Fate seems to have decreed otherwise. Why, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “Things have gone that way,” Peter Ruff remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you why,” she continued. “It is because, at the bottom of + your heart, there lurks a strong and unconquerable desire for + respectability. In your heart you are on the side of the law and + established things. You do not like crime; you do not like criminals. You + do not like the idea of associating with them. You prefer the company of + law-abiding people, even though their ways be narrow. It was part of that + sentiment, Peter, which led you to fall in love with a coal-merchant’s + daughter. I can see that you will end your days in the halo of + respectability.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was a little thoughtful. He scratched his chin and contemplated + the tip of his faultless patent boot. Self-analysis interested him, and he + recognized the truth of the girl’s words. + </p> + <p> + “You know, I am rather like that,” he admitted. “When I see a family + party, I envy them. When I hear of a man who has brothers and sisters and + aunts and cousins, and gives family dinner-parties to family friends, I + envy him. I do not care about the loose ends of life. I do not care about + restaurant life, and ladies who transfer their regards with the same + facility that they change their toilettes. You have very admirable powers + of observation, Violet. You see me, I believe, as I really am.” + </p> + <p> + “That being so,” she remarked, “what are you going to say to Sir Richard + Dyson?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was frank. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul,” he answered, “I don’t know!” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to make up your mind very soon,” she reminded him. “He is + coming here at twelve o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I shall wait until I hear what he has to say,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “His letter gave you a pretty clear hint,” Violet said, “that it was + something outside the law.” + </p> + <p> + “The law has many outposts,” Peter Ruff said. “One can thread one’s way in + and out, if one knows the ropes. I don’t like the man, but he introduced + me to his tailor. I have never had any clothes like those he has made me.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “You are a vain little person,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You are an impertinent young woman!” he answered. “Get back to your work. + Don’t you hear the lift stop?” + </p> + <p> + She rose reluctantly, and resumed her place in front of her desk. + </p> + <p> + “If it’s risky,” she whispered, leaning round towards him, “don’t you take + it on. I’ve heard one or two things about Sir Richard lately.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. He, too, quitted his easy-chair, and took up a bundle + of papers which lay upon his desk. There was a sharp tap at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard Dyson entered. He was dressed quietly, but with the perfect + taste which was obviously an instinct with him, and he wore a big bunch of + violets in his buttonhole. Nevertheless, the spring sunshine seemed to + find out the lines in his face. His eyes were baggy—he had aged even + within the last few months. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Ruff,” he said, shaking hands, “how goes it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very well, Sir Richard,” Peter Ruff answered. “Please take a chair.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard took the easy-chair, and discovering a box of cigarettes upon + the table, helped himself. Then his eyes fell upon Miss Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t do without your secretary?” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” Peter Ruff answered. “As I told you before, I am her + guarantee that what you say to me, or before her, is spoken as though to + the dead.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Just as well,” he remarked, “for I am going to talk about a man who I + wish were dead!” + </p> + <p> + “There are few of us,” Peter Ruff said, “who have not our enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any experience of blackmailers?” Sir Richard asked. + </p> + <p> + “In my profession,” Peter Ruff answered, “I have come across such + persons.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come to see you about one,” Sir Richard proceeded. “Many years + ago, there was a fellow in my regiment who went to the bad—never + mind his name. He passes to-day as Ted Jones—that name will do as + well as another. I am not,” Sir Richard continued, “a good-natured man, + but some devilish impulse prompted me to help that fellow. I gave him + money three or four times. Somehow, I don’t think it’s a very good thing + to give a man money. He doesn’t value it—it comes too easily. He + spends it and wants more.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a good deal of truth in what you say, Sir Richard,” Peter Ruff + admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Our friend, for instance, wanted more,” Sir Richard continued. “He came + to me for it almost as a matter of course. I refused. He came again; I + lost my temper and punched his head. Then his little game began.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He had something to work upon, I suppose?” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly he had,” Sir Richard admitted. “If ever I achieved + sufficient distinction in any branch of life to make it necessary that my + biography should be written, I promise you that you would find it in many + places a little highly colored. In other words, Mr. Ruff, I have not + always adhered to the paths of righteousness.” + </p> + <p> + A faint smile flickered across Peter Ruff’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Richard,” he said, “your candor is admirable.” + </p> + <p> + “There was one time,” Sir Richard continued, “when I was really on my last + legs. It was just before I came into the baronetcy. I had borrowed every + penny I could borrow. I was even hard put to it for a meal. I went to + Paris, and I called myself by another man’s name. I got introduced to a + somewhat exclusive club there. My assumed name was a good one—it was + the name, in fact, of a relative whom I somewhat resembled. I was accepted + without question. I played cards, and I lost somewhere about eighteen + thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “A sum,” Peter Ruff remarked, “which you probably found it inconvenient to + pay.” + </p> + <p> + “There was only one course,” Sir Richard continued, “and I took it. I went + back the next night and gave checks for the amount of my indebtedness—checks + which had no more chance of being met than if I were to draw to-night upon + the Bank of England for a million pounds. I went back, however, with + another resolve. I was considered to have discharged my liabilities, and + we played again. I rose a winner of something like sixty thousand francs. + But I played to win, Mr. Ruff! Do you know what that means?” + </p> + <p> + “You cheated!” Peter Ruff said, in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” Sir Richard admitted. “I cheated! There was a scandal, and I + disappeared. I had the money, and though my checks for the eighteen + thousand francs were met, there was a considerable balance in my pocket + when I escaped out of France. There was enough to take me out to America—big + game shooting in the far West. No one ever associated me with the impostor + who had robbed these young French noblemen—no one, that is to say, + except the person who passes by the name of Teddy Jones.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he get to know?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “The story wouldn’t interest you,” Sir Richard answered. “He was in Paris + at the time—we came across one another twice. He heard the scandal, + and put two and two together. I shipped him off to Australia when I came + into the title. He has come back. Lately, I can tell you, he has pretty + well drained me dry. He has become a regular parasite a cold-blooded + leech. He doesn’t get drunk now. He looks after his health. I believe he + even saves his, money. There’s scarcely a week I don’t hear from him. He + keeps me a pauper. He has brought me at last to that state when I feel + that there must be an ending!” + </p> + <p> + “You have come to seek my help,” Peter Ruff said, slowly. “From what you + say about this man, I presume that he is not to be frightened?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for a single moment,” Sir Richard answered. “The law has no terrors + for him. He is as slippery as an eel. He has his story pat. He even has + his witnesses ready. I can assure you that Mr. Teddy Jones isn’t by any + means an ordinary sort of person.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not to be bluffed,” Peter Ruff said, slowly; “he is not to be + bribed. What remains?” + </p> + <p> + “I have come here,” Sir Richard said, “for your advice, Mr. Ruff.” + </p> + <p> + “The blackmailer,” Peter Ruff said, “is a criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a scoundrel!” Sir Richard assented. + </p> + <p> + “He is not fit to live,” Peter Ruff repeated. + </p> + <p> + “He contaminates the world with every breath he draws!” Sir Richard + assented. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” Peter Ruff said, “you had better give me his address, and the + name he goes under.” + </p> + <p> + “He lives at a boarding-house in Russell Street, Bloomsbury,” Sir Richard + said. “It is Mrs. Bognor’s boarding-house. She calls it, I believe, the + ‘American Home from Home.’ The number is 17.” + </p> + <p> + “A boarding-house,” Peter Ruff repeated, thoughtfully. “Makes it a little + hard to get at him privately, doesn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Fling him a bait and he will come to you,” Sir Richard answered. “He is + an adventurer pure and simple, though perhaps you wouldn’t believe it to + look at him now. He has grown fat on the money he has wrung from me.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better leave the matter in my hands for a few days,” Peter Ruff + said. “I will have a talk with this gentleman and see whether he is really + so unmanageable. If he is, there is, of course, only one way, and for that + way, Sir Richard, you would have to pay a little high.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were to hear to-morrow,” Sir Richard said quietly, “that Teddy Jones + was dead, I would give five thousand pounds to the man who brought me the + information!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It would be worth that,” he said—“quite! I will drop you a line in + the course of the next few days.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard took up his hat, lit another of Peter Ruff’s cigarettes, and + departed. They heard the rattle of the lift as it descended. Then Miss + Brown turned round in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you do it, Peter!” she said solemnly. “The time has gone by for + that sort of thing. The man may be unfit to live, but you don’t need to + risk as much as that for a matter of five thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” he said; “quite right, Violet. At the same time, five + thousand pounds is an excellent sum. We must see what can be done.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff’s method of seeing what could be done was at first the very + obvious one of seeking to discover any incidents in the past of the person + known as Teddy Jones likely to reflect present discredit upon him if + brought to light. From the first, it was quite clear that the career of + this gentleman had been far from immaculate. His researches proved, beyond + a doubt, that the gentleman in question had resorted, during the last ten + or fifteen years, to many and very questionable methods of obtaining a + living. At the same time, there was nothing which Peter Ruff felt that the + man might not brazen out. His present mode of life seemed—on the + surface, at any rate—to be beyond reproach. There was only one + association which was distinctly questionable, and it was in this one + direction, therefore, that Peter Ruff concentrated himself. The case, for + some reason, interested him so much that he took a close and personal + interest in it, and he was rewarded one day by discovering this enemy of + Sir Richard’s sitting, toward five o’clock in the afternoon, in a cafe in + Regent Street, engrossed in conversation with a person whom Peter Ruff + knew to be a very black sheep indeed—a man who had been tried for + murder, and concerning whom there were still many unpleasant rumors. From + behind his paper in a corner of the cafe, Peter Ruff watched these two + men. Teddy Jones—or Major Edward Jones, as it seemed he was now + called—was a person whose appearance no longer suggested the poverty + against which he had been struggling most of his life. He was well dressed + and tolerably well turned out. His face was a little puffy, and he had put + on flesh during these days of his ease. His eyes, too, had a somewhat + furtive expression, although his general deportment was one of + braggadocio. Peter Ruff, quick always in his likes or dislikes, found the + man repulsive from the start. He felt that he would have a genuine + pleasure, apart from the matter of the five thousand pounds, in + accelerating Major Jones’s departure from a world which he certainly did + not adorn. + </p> + <p> + The two men conducted their conversation in a subdued tone, which made it + quite impossible for Peter Ruff, in his somewhat distant corner, to + overhear a single word of it. It was obvious, however, that they were not + on the best of terms. Major Jones’s companion was protesting, and + apparently without success, against some course of action or speech of his + companions. The conversation, on the other hand, never reached a quarrel, + and the two men left the place together apparently on ordinary terms of + friendliness. Peter Ruff at once quitted his seat and crossed the room + toward the spot where they had been sitting. He dived under the table and + picked up a newspaper—it was the only clue left to him as to the + nature of their conversation. More than once, Major Jones who had, soon + after their arrival, sent a waiter for it, had pointed to a certain + paragraph as though to give weight to his statements. Peter Ruff had + noticed the exact position of that paragraph. He smoothed out the paper + and found it at once. It was an account of the murder of a wealthy old + woman, living on the outskirts of a country village not far from London. + Peter Ruff’s face did not change as he called for another vermouth and + read the description, slowly. Yet he was aware that he had possibly + stumbled across the very thing for which he had searched so urgently! The + particulars of the murder he already knew well, as at one time he had felt + inclined to aid the police in their so far fruitless investigations. He + therefore skipped the description of the tragedy, and devoted his + attention to the last paragraph, toward which he fancied that the finger + of Major Jones had been chiefly directed. It was a list of the stolen + property, which consisted of jewelry, gold and notes to a very + considerable amount. With the waiter’s permission, he annexed the paper, + cut out the list of articles with a sharp penknife, and placed it in his + pocketbook before he left the cafe. + </p> + <p> + In the course of some of the smaller cases with which Peter Ruff had been + from time to time connected, he had more than once come into contact with + the authorities at Scotland Yard, and he had several acquaintances there—not + including Mr. John Dory—to whom, at times, he had given valuable + information. For the first time, he now sought some return for his many + courtesies. He drove straight from the cafe to the office of the Chief of + the Criminal Investigation Department. The questions he asked there were + only two, but they were promptly and courteously answered. Peter Ruff left + the building and drove back to his rooms in a somewhat congratulatory + frame of mind. After all, it was chance which was the chief factor in the + solution of so many of these cases! Often he had won less success after + months of untiring effort than he had gained during that few minutes in + the cafe in Regent Street. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff became an inmate of that very select boarding-house carried on + by Mrs. Bognor at number 17 Russell Street, Bloomsbury. He arrived with a + steamer trunk, an elaborate traveling-bag and a dressing-case; took the + best vacant room in the house, and dressed for dinner. Mrs. Bognor looked + upon him as a valuable addition to her clientele, and introduced him + freely to her other guests. Among these was Major Edward Jones. Major + Jones sat at Mrs. Bognor’s right hand, and was evidently the show guest of + the boarding-house. Peter Ruff, without the least desire to attack his + position, sat upon her left and monopolized the conversation. On the third + night it turned, by chance, upon precious stones. Peter Ruff drew a little + chamois leather bag from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that my tastes are peculiar. I have been in the + East, and I have seen very many precious stones in their uncut state. To + my mind, there is nothing to be compared with opals. These are a few I + brought home from India. Perhaps you would like to look at them, Mrs. + Bognor.” + </p> + <p> + They were passed round, amidst a little chorus of admiration. + </p> + <p> + “The large one with the blue fire,” Peter Ruff remarked, “is, I think, + remarkably beautiful. I have never seen a stone quite like it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is wonderful!” murmured the young lady who was sitting at Major + Jones’s right hand. “What a fortunate man you are, Mr. Ruff, to have such + a collection of treasures!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff bowed across the table. Major Jones, who was beginning to feel + that his position as show guest was in danger, thrust his hand into his + waistcoat pocket and produced a lady’s ring, in which was set a single + opal. + </p> + <p> + “Very pretty stones,” he remarked carelessly, “but I can’t say I am very + fond of them. Here’s one that belonged to my sister, and my grandmother + before her. I have it in my pocket because I was thinking of having the + stone reset and making a present of it to a friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff’s popularity waned—he had said nothing about making a + present to any one of even the most insignificant of his opals! And the + one which Major Jones now handed round was certainly a magnificent stone. + Peter Ruff examined it with the rest, and under the pretext of studying + the setting, gazed steadfastly at the inside through his eyeglass. Major + Jones, from the other side of the table, frowned, and held out his hand + for the ring. + </p> + <p> + “A very beautiful stone indeed!” Peter Ruff declared, passing it across + the tablecloth. “Really, I do not think that there is one in my little + collection to be compared with it. Have you many treasures like this, + Major Jones?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a few!” the Major answered carelessly, “family heirlooms, most of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “You will have to give me the ring, Major Jones,” the young lady on his + right remarked archly. “It’s bad luck, you know, to give it to any one who + is not born in October, and my birthday is on the twelfth.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Levey,” Major Jones answered, whispering in her ear, “more + unlikely things have happened than that I should beg your acceptance of + this little trifle.” + </p> + <p> + “Sooner or later,” Peter Ruff said genially, “I should like to have a + little conversation with you, Major. I fancy that we ought to be able to + find plenty of subjects of common interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, I’m sure!” the latter answered, utterly unsuspicious. “Shall + we go into the smoking-room now, or would you rather play a rubber first?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is all the same to you,” Peter Ruff said, “I think we will have a + cigar first. There will be plenty of time for bridge afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “May I offer you a cigar, sir?” Major Jones inquired, passing across a + well-filled case. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, Major,” he said, “that there is scarcely time. You see, I + have a warrant in my pocket for your arrest, and I am afraid that by the + time we got to the station—” + </p> + <p> + Major Jones leaned forward in his chair. He gripped the sides tightly with + both hands. His eyes seemed to be protruding from his head. + </p> + <p> + “For my what?” he exclaimed, in a tone of horror. + </p> + <p> + “For your arrest,” Peter Ruff explained calmly. “Surely you must have been + expecting it! During all these years you must have grown used to expecting + it at every moment!” + </p> + <p> + Major Jones collapsed. He looked at Ruff as one might look at a man who + has taken leave of his senses. Yet underneath it all was the coward’s + fear! + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about, man?” he exclaimed. “What do you mean? Lower + your voice, for heaven’s sake! Consider my position here! Some one might + overhear! If this is a joke, let me tell you that it’s a d——d + foolish one!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish,” he said, “to create a disturbance—my manner of + coming here should have assured you of that. At the same time, business is + business. I hold a warrant for your arrest, and I am forced to execute + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you are a detective, then?” Major Jones demanded. + </p> + <p> + He was a big man, but his voice seemed to have grown very small indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Peter Ruff answered. “I should not come here without + authority.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the charge?” the other man faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Blackmail,” Peter Ruff said slowly. “The information against you is + lodged by Sir Richard Dyson.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Peter Ruff, who was watching his companion closely, that a + wave of relief passed over the face of the man who sat cowering in his + chair. He certainly drew a little gasp—stretched out his hands, as + though to thrust the shadow of some fear from him. His voice, when he + spoke, was stronger. Some faint show of courage was returning to him. + </p> + <p> + “There is some ridiculous mistake,” he declared. “Let us talk this over + like sensible men, Mr. Ruff. If you will wait until I have spoken to Sir + Richard, I can promise you that the warrant shall be withdrawn, and that + you shall not be the loser.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it is too late for anything of that sort,” Peter Ruff said. + “Sir Richard’s patience has been completely exhausted by your repeated + demands.” + </p> + <p> + “He never told me so,” Major Jones whined. “I quite thought that he was + always glad to help an old friend. As a matter of fact, I had not meant to + ask him for anything else. The last few hundreds I had from him was to + have closed the thing up. It was the end.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “it was not the end! It never would have been the end! Sir + Richard sought my advice, and I gave it him without hesitation. Sooner or + later, I told him, he would have to adopt different measures. I convinced + him. I represent those measures!” + </p> + <p> + “But the matter can be arranged,” Major Jones insisted, with a little + shudder, “I am perfectly certain it can be arranged. Mr. Ruff, you are not + an ordinary police officer—I am sure of that. Give me a chance of + having an interview with Sir Richard before anything more is done. I will + satisfy him, I promise you that. Why, if we leave the place together like + this, every one here will get to know about it!” + </p> + <p> + “Be reasonable,” Peter Ruff answered. “Of course everyone will get to know + about it! Blackmailing cases always excite a considerable amount of + interest. Your photograph will probably be in the Daily Mirror tomorrow or + the next day. In the meantime, I must trouble you to pay your respects to + Mrs. Bognor and to come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “To Sir Richard’s house?” Major Jones asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “To the police-stations,” Peter Ruff answered. + </p> + <p> + Major Jones did not rise. He sat for a few moments with his head buried in + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ruff,” he said hoarsely, “listen to me. I have been fortunate lately + in some investments. I am not so poor as I was. I have my check-book in my + pocket, and a larger balance in the bank now than I have ever had before. + If I write you a check for, say, a hundred—no, two!—five!” he + cried, desperately, watching Peter Ruff’s unchanging face—“five + hundred pounds, will you come round with me to Sir Richard’s house in a + hansom at once?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand pounds would not buy your liberty from me, Major Jones,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + The man became abject. + </p> + <p> + “Have pity, then,” he pleaded. “My health is not good—I couldn’t + stand imprisonment. Think of what it means to a man of my age suddenly to + leave everything worth having in life just because he may have imposed a + little on the generosity of a friend! Think how you would feel, and be + merciful!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head slowly. His face was immovable, but there was a + look in his eyes from which the other man shrank. + </p> + <p> + “Major Jones,” he said, “you ask me be merciful. You appeal to my pity. + For such as you I have no pity, nor have I ever shown any mercy. You know + very well, and I know, that when once the hand of the law touches your + shoulder, it will not be only a charge o’ blackmail which the police will + bring against you!” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing else—nothing else!” he cried. “Take half my + fortune, Mr. Ruff. Let me get away. Give me a chance—just a sporting + chance!” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” Peter Ruff said, “what chance that poor old lady in Weston + had? No, I am not saying you murdered her. You never had the pluck. Your + confederate did that, and you handled the booty. What were the initials + inside that ring you showed us to-night, Major Jones?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me go to my bedroom,” he said, in a strange, far-away tone. “You can + come with me and stand outside.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff assented. + </p> + <p> + “To save scandal,” he said, “yes!” + </p> + <p> + Three flights of stairs they climbed. When at last they reached the door, + the trembling man made one last appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ruff,” he said, “have a little mercy. Give me an hour’s start—just + a chance for my life!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff pushed him in the door. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a hard man,” he said, “but I keep my mercy for men!” + </p> + <p> + He took the key from the inside of the door, locked it, and with the key + in his pocket descended to the drawing-room. The young lady who had sat on + Major Jones’s right was singing a ballad. Suddenly she paused in the + middle of her song. The four people who were playing bridge looked up. + Mrs. Bognor screamed. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” she asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “It sounded,” Peter Ruff said, “very much like revolver shot.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Sir Richard remarked, with a queer look in his eyes, as he handed + over a roll of notes to Peter Ruff, “the jury brought it in ‘Suicide’! + What I can’t understand is—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t try,” Peter Ruff interrupted briskly. “It isn’t in the bond that + you should understand.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Richard helped himself to a drink. A great burden had passed from his + shoulders, but he was not feeling at his best that morning. He could + scarcely keep his eyes from Peter Ruff. + </p> + <p> + “Ruff,” he said, “I have known you some time, and I have known you to be a + square man. I have known you to do good-natured actions. I came to you in + desperation but I scarcely expected this!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff emptied his own tumbler and took up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Richard,” he said, “you are like a good many other people. Now that + the thing is done, you shrink from the thought of it. You even wonder how + I could have planned to bring about the death of this man. Listen, Sir + Richard. Pity for the deserving, or for those who have in them one single + quality, one single grain, of good, is a sentiment which deserves respect. + Pity for vermin, who crawl about the world leaving a poisonous trail upon + everything they touch, is a false and unnatural sentiment. For every + hopelessly corrupt man who is induced to quit this life there is a more + deserving one, somewhere or other, for whom the world is a better place.” + </p> + <p> + “So that, after all, you are a philanthropist, Mr. Ruff,” Sir Richard + said, with a forced smile. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “A philosopher,” he answered, buttoning up his notes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE PERFIDY OF MISS BROWN + </h2> + <p> + Peter Ruff came down to his office with a single letter in his hand, + bearing a French postmark. He returned his secretary’s morning greeting a + little absently, and seated himself at his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he asked, “have you ever been to Paris?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him compassionately. + </p> + <p> + “More times than you, I think, Peter,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he exclaimed, “is very possible! Could you get ready to leave by + the two-twenty this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “What, alone?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “No—with me,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She shut down her desk with a bang. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can!” she exclaimed. “What a spree!” + </p> + <p> + Then she caught sight of a certain expression on Peter Ruff’s face, and + she looked at him wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Is anything wrong, Peter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, “I cannot say that anything is wrong. I have had an + invitation to present myself before a certain society in Paris of which + you have some indirect knowledge. What the summons means I cannot say.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you go?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I go,” he answered. “I have no choice. If I waited here twenty-four + hours, I should hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + “They can have nothing against you,” she said. “On the contrary, the only + time they have appealed for your aid, you gave it—very valuable aid + it must have been, too.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot see,” he admitted, “what they can have against me. And yet, + somehow, the wording of my invitation seemed to me a little ominous. + Perhaps,” he added, walking to the window and standing looking out for a + moment, “I have a liver this morning. I am depressed. Violet, what does it + mean when you are depressed?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you wear your gray clothes for traveling?” she asked, a little + irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + “I have not made up my mind,” Peter Ruff answered. “I thought of wearing + my brown, with a brown overcoat. What do you suggest?” + </p> + <p> + “I like you in brown,” she answered, simply. “I should change, if I were + you.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” he said, “that you have a sort of superstition that as I + change my clothes I change my humors.” + </p> + <p> + “Should I be so very far wrong?” she asked. “Don’t think that I am + laughing at you, Peter. The greatest men in the world have had their + foibles.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff frowned. + </p> + <p> + “We shall be away for several days,” he said. “Be sure that you take some + wraps. It will be cold, crossing.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to close the office altogether?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Put up a notice,” he said—“‘Back on Friday.’ Pack up your books and + take them round to the Bank before you leave. The lift man will call you a + taxi-cab.” + </p> + <p> + He watched her preparations with a sort of gloomy calm. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you’d tell me what is the matter with you?” she asked, as she + turned to follow her belongings. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” Peter Ruff said. “I, suppose I am suffering from what you + would call presentiments. Be at Charing-Cross punctually.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you go at all?” she asked. “These people are of no further use to + you. Only the other day, you were saying that you should not accept any + more outside cases.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go,” Peter Ruff answered. “I am not afraid of many things, but I + should be afraid of disobeying this letter.” + </p> + <p> + They had a comfortable journey down, a cool, bright crossing, and found + their places duly reserved for them in the French train. Miss Brown, in + her neat traveling clothes and furs, was conscious of looking her best, + and she did all that was possible to entertain her traveling companion. + But Peter Ruff seemed like a man who labors under some sense of + apprehension. He had faced death more than once during the last few years—faced + it without flinching, and with a certain cool disregard which can only + come from the highest sort of courage. Yet he knew, when he read over + again in the train that brief summons which he was on his way to obey, + that he had passed under the shadow of some new and indefinable fear. He + was perfectly well aware, too, that both on the steamer and on the French + train he was carefully shadowed. This fact, however, did not surprise him. + He even went out of his way to enter into conversation with one of the two + men whose furtive glances into their compartment and whose constant + proximity had first attracted his attention. The man was civil but vague. + Nevertheless, when they took their places in the dining-car, they found + the two men at the next table. Peter Ruff pointed them out to his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “‘Double-Fours’!” he whispered. “Don’t you feel like a criminal?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, and they took no more notice of the men. But as the train + drew near Paris, he felt some return of the depression which had troubled + him during the earlier part of the day. He felt a sense of comfort in his + companion’s presence which was a thing utterly strange to him. On the + other hand, he was conscious of a certain regret that he had brought her + with him into an adventure of which he could not foresee the end. + </p> + <p> + The lights of Paris flashed around them—the train was gradually + slackening speed. Peter Ruff, with a sigh, began to collect their + belongings. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, “I ought not to have brought you.” Something in his + voice puzzled her. There had been every few times, during all the years + she had known him, when she had been able to detect anything approaching + sentiment in his tone—and those few times had been when he had + spoken of another woman. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff looked out into the blackness, through the glittering arc of + lights, and perhaps for once he suffered his fancy to build for him + visions of things that were not of earth. If so, however, it was a moment + which swiftly passed. His reply was in a tone as matter of fact as his + usual speech. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” he said, “I do not exactly see the end of my present expedition—I + do not understand its object.” + </p> + <p> + “You have some apprehension?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “None at all,” he answered. “Why should I? There is an unwritten bargain,” + he added, a little more slowly, “to which I subscribed with our friends + here, and I have certainly kept it. In fact, the balance is on my side. + There is nothing for me to fear.” + </p> + <p> + The train crept into the Gare du Nord, and they passed through the usual + routine of the Customs House. Then, in an omnibus, they rumbled slowly + over the cobblestones, through the region of barely lit streets and untidy + cafes, down the Rue Lafayette, across the famous Square and into the Rue + de Rivoli. + </p> + <p> + “Our movements,” Peter Ruff remarked dryly, “are too well known for us to + attempt to conceal them. We may as well stop at one of the large hotels. + It will be more cheerful for you while I am away.” + </p> + <p> + They engaged rooms at the Continental. Miss Brown, whose apartments were + in the wing of the hotel overlooking the gardens, ascended at once to her + room. Peter Ruff, who had chosen a small suite on the other side, went + into the bar for a whiskey and soda. A man touched him on the elbow. + </p> + <p> + “For Monsieur,” he murmured, and vanished. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff turned and opened the note. It bore a faint perfume, it had a + coronet upon the flap of the envelope, and it was written in a delicate + feminine handwriting. + </p> + <p> + DEAR Mr. RUFF: + </p> + <p> + If you are not too tired with your journey, will you call soon after one + o’clock to meet some old friends? + </p> + <p> + BLANCHE DE MAUPASSIM. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff drank his whiskey and soda, went up to his rooms, and made a + careful toilet. Then he sent a page up for Violet, who came down within a + few minutes. She was dressed with apparent simplicity in a high-necked + gown, a large hat, and a single rope of pearls. In place of the usual gold + purse, she carried a small white satin bag, exquisitely hand-painted. + Everything about her bespoke that elegant restraint so much a feature of + the Parisian woman of fashion herself. Peter Ruff, who had told her to + prepare for supping out, was at first struck by the simplicity of her + attire. Afterwards, he came to appreciate its perfection. + </p> + <p> + They went to the Cafe de Paris, where they were the first arrivals. + People, however, began to stream in before they had finished their meal, + and Peter Ruff, comparing his companion’s appearance with the more + flamboyant charms of these ladies from the Opera and the theatres, began + to understand the numerous glances of admiration which the impressionable + Frenchmen so often turned in their direction. There was between them, + toward the end of the meal, something which amounted almost to + nervousness. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to keep your appointment to-night, Peter?” his companion + asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as I have taken you home,” he said. “I shall probably return + late, so we will breakfast here to-morrow morning, if you like, at + half-past twelve. I will send a note to your room when I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + She looked him in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she said, “supposing that note doesn’t come!” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Violet,” he said, “you and I—or rather I, for you are not + concerned in this—live a life which is a little different from the + lives of most of the people around us. The million pay their taxes, and + they expect police protection in times of danger. For me there is no such + resource. My life has its own splendid compensations. I have weapons with + which to fight any ordinary danger. What I want to explain to you is this—that + if you hear no more of me, you can do nothing. If that note does not come + to you in the morning, you can do nothing. Wait here for three days, and + after that go back to England. You will find a letter on your desk, + telling you there exactly what to do.” + </p> + <p> + “You have something in your mind,” she said, “of which you have not told + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing,” he answered, firmly. “Upon my honor, I know of no + possible cause of offense which our friends could have against me. Their + summons is, I will admit, somewhat extraordinary, but I go to obey it + absolutely without fear. You can sleep well, Violet. We lunch here + to-morrow, without a doubt.” + </p> + <p> + They drove back to the hotel almost in silence. Violet was looking fixedly + out of the window of the taxicab, as though interested in watching the + crowds upon the street. Peter Ruff appeared to be absorbed in his own + thoughts. Yet perhaps they were both of them nearer to one another than + either surmised. Their parting in the hall of the Continental Hotel was + unemotional enough. For a moment Peter Ruff had hesitated while her hand + had lain in his. He had opened his lips as though he had something to say. + Her eyes grew suddenly softer—seemed to seek his as though begging + for those unspoken words. But Peter Ruff did not say them then. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be back all right,” he said. “Good night, Violet! Sleep well!” + </p> + <p> + He turned back towards the waiting taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “Number 16, Rue de St. Quintaine,” he told the man. It was not a long + ride. In less than a quarter of an hour, Peter Ruff presented himself + before a handsome white house in a quiet, aristocratic-looking street. At + his summons, the postern door flew open, and a man-servant in plain livery + stood at the second entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Madame la Marquise?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + The man bowed in silence, and took the visitor’s hat and overcoat. He + passed along a spacious hall and into a delightfully furnished reception + room, where an old lady with gray hair sat in the midst of a little circle + of men. Peter Ruff stood, for a moment, upon the threshold, looking around + him. She held out her hands. + </p> + <p> + “It is Monsieur Peter Ruff, is it not? At last, then, I am gratified. I + have wished for so long to see one who has become so famous.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff took her hands in his and raised them gallantly to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, “this is a pleasure indeed. At my last visit here, you + were in Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “I grow old,” she answered. “I leave Paris but little now. Where one has + lived, one should at least be content to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame speaks a philosophy,” Peter Ruff answered, “which as yet she has + no need to learn.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady turned to a man who stood upon her right: + </p> + <p> + “And this from an Englishman!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + There were others who took Peter Ruff by the hand then. The servants were + handing round coffee in little Sevres cups. On the sideboard was a choice + of liqueurs and bottles of wine. Peter Ruff found himself hospitably + entertained with both small talk and refreshments. But every now and then + his eyes wandered back to where Madame sat in her chair, her hair as white + as snow—beautiful still, in spite of the cruel mouth and the narrow + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “She is wonderful!” he murmured to a man who stood by his side. + </p> + <p> + “She is eighty-six,” was the answer in a whisper, “and she knows + everything.” + </p> + <p> + As the clock struck two, a tall footman entered the room and wheeled + Madame’s chair away. Several of the guests left at the same time. Ruff, + when the door was closed, counted those who remained. As he had imagined + would be the case, he found that there were eight. + </p> + <p> + A tall, gray-bearded man, who from the first had attached himself to Ruff, + and who seemed to act as a sort of master of ceremonies, now approached + him once more and laid his hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Mon ami,” he said, “we will now discuss, if it pleases you, the little + matter concerning which we took the liberty of asking you to favor us with + a visit.” + </p> + <p> + “What, here?” Peter Ruff asked, in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + His friend, who had introduced himself as Monsieur de Founcelles, smiled. + </p> + <p> + “But why not?” he asked. “Ah, but I think I understand!” he added, almost + immediately. “You are English, Monsieur Peter Ruff, and in some respects + you have not moved with the times. Confess, now, that your idea of a + secret society is a collection of strangely attired men who meet in a + cellar, and build subterranean passages in case of surprise. In Paris, I + think, we have gone beyond that sort of thing. We of the ‘Double-Four’ + have no headquarters save the drawing-room of Madame; no hiding-places + whatsoever; no meeting-places save the fashionable cafes or our own + reception rooms. The police follow us—what can they discover?—nothing! + What is there to discover?—nothing! Our lives are lived before the + eyes of all Paris. There is never any suspicion of mystery about any of + our movements. We have our hobbies, and we indulge in them. Monsieur the + Marquis de Sogrange here is a great sportsman. Monsieur le Comte owns many + racehorses. I myself am an authority on pictures, and own a collection + which I have bequeathed to the State. Paris knows us well as men of + fashion and mark—Paris does not guess that we have perfected an + organization so wonderful that the whole criminal world pays toll to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” Peter Ruff said, “this is very interesting!” + </p> + <p> + “We have a trained army at our disposal,” Monsieur de Founcelles + continued, “who numerically, as well as in intelligence, outnumber the + whole force of gendarmes in Paris. No criminal from any other country can + settle down here and hope for success, unless he joins us. An exploit + which is inspired by us cannot fail. Our agents may count on our + protection, and receive it without question.” + </p> + <p> + “I am bewildered,” Peter Ruff said, frankly. “I do not understand how you + gentlemen—whom one knows by name so well as patrons of sport and + society, can spare the time for affairs of such importance.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Founcelles nodded. + </p> + <p> + “We have very valuable aid,” he said. “There is below us—the + ‘Double-Four’—the eight gentlemen now present, an executive council + composed of five of the shrewdest men in France. They take their orders + from us. We plan, and they obey. We have imagination, and special sources + of knowledge. They have the most perfect machinery for carrying out our + schemes that it is possible to imagine. I do not wish to boast, Mr. Ruff, + but if I take a directory of Paris and place after any man’s name, + whatever his standing or estate, a black cross, that man dies before seven + days have passed. You buy your evening paper—a man has committed + suicide! You read of a letter found by his side: an unfortunate love + affair—a tale of jealousy or reckless speculation. Mr. Ruff, the + majority of these explanations are false. They are invented and arranged + for by us. This year alone, five men in Paris, of position, have been + found dead, and accounted, for excellent reasons, suicides. In each one of + these cases, Monsieur Ruff, although not a soul has a suspicion of it, the + removal of these men was arranged for by the’ Double-Four.’” + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” Peter Ruff said, “that it may never be my ill-fortune to incur + the displeasure of so marvelous an association.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, Monsieur Ruff,” the other answered, “the attention of + the association has been directed towards certain incidents of your career + in a most favorable manner. We have spoken of you often lately, Mr. Ruff, + between ourselves. We arrive now at the object for which we begged the + honor of your visit. It is to offer you the Presidency of our Executive + Council.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff had thought of many things, but he had not thought of this! He + gasped, recovered himself, and realized at once the dangers of the + position in which he stood. + </p> + <p> + “The Council of Five!” he said thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Monsieur de Founcelles replied. “The salary—forgive me + for giving such prominence to a matter which you doubtless consider of + secondary importance—is ten thousand pounds a year, with a residence + here and in London—also servants.” + </p> + <p> + “It is princely!” Peter Ruff declared. “I cannot imagine, Monsieur, how + you could have believed me capable of filling such a position.” + </p> + <p> + “There is not much about you, Mr. Ruff, which we do not know,” Monsieur de + Founcelles answered. “There are points about your career which we have + marked with admiration. Your work over here was rapid and comprehensive. + We know all about your checkmating the Count von Hern and the Comtesse de + Pilitz. We have appealed to you for aid once only—your response was + prompt and brilliant. You have all the qualifications we desire. You are + still young, physically you are sound, you speak all languages, and you + are unmarried.” + </p> + <p> + “I am what?” Peter Ruff asked, with a start. + </p> + <p> + “A bachelor,” Monsieur de Founcelles answered. “We who have made crime and + its detection a life-long study, have reduced many matters concerning it + to almost mathematical exactitude. Of one thing we have become absolutely + convinced—it is that the great majority of cases in which the police + triumph are due to the treachery of women. The criminal who steers clear + of the other sex escapes a greater danger than the detectives who dog his + heels. It is for that reason that we choose only unmarried men for our + executive council.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff made a gesture of despair. “And I am to be married in a month!” + he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of dismay. If those other seven men had not once + intervened, it was because the conduct of the affair had been voted into + the hands of Monsieur de Founcelles, and there was little which he had + left unsaid. Nevertheless, they had formed a little circle around the two + men. Every word passing between them had been listened to eagerly. + Gestures and murmured exclamations had been frequent enough. There arose + now a chorus of voices which their leader had some difficulty in + silencing. + </p> + <p> + “It must be arranged!” + </p> + <p> + “But it is impossible—this!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Ruff amuses himself with us!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” Peter Ruff said, “I can assure you that I do nothing of the + sort. The affair was arranged some months ago, and the young lady is even + now in Paris, purchasing her trousseau.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Founcelles, with a wave of the hand, commanded silence. There + was probably a way out. In any case, one must be found. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Ruff,” he said, “putting aside, for one moment, your sense of + honor, which of course forbids you even to consider the possibility of + breaking your word—supposing that the young lady herself should + withdraw—” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know Miss Brown!” Peter Ruff interrupted. “It is a pleasure to + which I hope to attain,” Monsieur de Founcelles declared, smoothly. “Let + us consider once more my proposition. I take it for granted that, apart + from this threatened complication, you find it agreeable?” + </p> + <p> + “I am deeply honored by it,” Peter Ruff declared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that being so,” Monsieur de Founcelles said, more cheerfully, “we + must see whether we cannot help you. Tell me, who is this fortunate young + lady—this Miss Brown?” + </p> + <p> + “She is a young person of good birth and some means,” Peter Ruff declared. + “She is, in a small way, an actress; she has also been my secretary from + the first.” Monsieur de Founcelles nodded his head thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said. “She knows your secrets, then, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + “She does,” Peter Ruff assented. “She knows a great deal!” + </p> + <p> + “A young person to be conciliated by all means,” Monsieur de Founcelles + declared. “Well, we must see. When, Monsieur Ruff, may I have the + opportunity of making the acquaintance of this young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning, or rather this morning, if you will,” Peter Ruff + answered. “We are taking breakfast together at the cafe de Paris. It will + give me great pleasure if you will join us.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” Monsieur de Founcelles declared, “I must beg of you + slightly to alter your plans. I will ask you and Mademoiselle to do me the + honor of breakfasting at the Ritz with the Marquis de Sogrange and myself, + at the same hour. We shall find there more opportunity for a short + discussion.” + </p> + <p> + “I am entirely at your service,” Peter Ruff answered. There were signs now + of a breaking-up of the little party. + </p> + <p> + “We must all regret, dear Monsieur Ruff,” Monsieur de Founcelles said, as + he made his adieux, “this temporary obstruction to the consummation of our + hopes. Let us pray that Mademoiselle will not be unreasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” Peter Ruff murmured. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff drove through the gray dawn to his hotel, in the splendid + automobile of Monsieur de Founcelles, whose homeward route lay in that + direction. It was four o’clock when he accepted his key from a + sleepy-looking clerk, and turned towards the staircase. The hotel was + wrapped in semi-gloom. Sweepers and cleaners were at work. The palms had + been turned out into the courtyard. Dust sheets lay over the furniture. + One person only, save himself and the untidy-looking servants, was astir. + From a distant corner which commanded the entrance, he saw Violet stealing + away to the corridor which led to her part of the hotel. She had sat there + all through the night to see him come in—to be assured of his + safety! Peter Ruff stared after her disappearing figure as one might have + watched a ghost. + </p> + <p> + The luncheon-party was a great success. Peter Ruff was human enough to be + proud of his companion—proud of her smartness, which was indubitable + even here, surrounded as they were by Frenchwomen of the best class; proud + of her accent, of the admiration which she obviously excited in the two + Frenchmen. His earlier enjoyment of the meal was a little clouded from the + fact that he felt himself utterly outshone in the matter of general + appearance. No tailor had ever suggested to him a coat so daring and yet + so perfect as that which adorned the person of the Marquis de Sogrange. + The deep violet of his tie was a shade unknown in Bond Street—inimitable—a + true education in color. They had the bearing, too, these Frenchmen! He + watched Monsieur de Founcelles bending over Violet, and he was suddenly + conscious of a wholly new sensation. He did not recognize—could not + even classify it. He only knew that it was not altogether pleasant, and + that it set the warm blood tingling through his veins. + </p> + <p> + It was not until they were sitting out in the winter garden, taking their + coffee and liqueurs, that the object of their meeting was referred to. + Then Monsieur de Founcelles drew Violet a little away from the others, and + the Marquis, with a meaning smile, took Peter Ruff’s arm and led him on + one side. Monsieur de Founcelles wasted no words at all. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said, “Monsieur Ruff has doubtless told you that last + night I made him the offer of a great position among us.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with twinkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, please,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I offered him a position of great dignity—of great responsibility,” + Monsieur de Founcelles continued. “I cannot explain to you its exact + nature, but it is in connection with the most wonderful organization of + its sort which the world has ever known.” + </p> + <p> + “The ‘Double-Four,’” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Attached to the post is a princely salary and but one condition,” + Monsieur de Founcelles said, watching the girl’s face. “The condition is + that Mr. Ruff remains a bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + Violet nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Peter’s told me all this,” she remarked. “He wants me to give him up.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Founcelles drew a little closer to his companion. There was a + peculiar smile upon his lips. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” he said softly, “forgive me if I point out to you + that with your appearance and gifts a marriage with our excellent friend + is surely not the summit of your ambitions! Here in Paris, I promise you, + here—we can do much better than that for you. You have not, perhaps, + a dot? Good! That is our affair. Give up our friend here, and we deposit + in any bank you like to name the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand + francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred and fifty thousand francs!” Violet repeated, slowly. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Founcelles nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It is enough?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It is not enough,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Founcelles raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “We do not bargain,” he said coldly, “and money is not the chief thing in + the world. It is for you, then, to name a sum.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Founcelles,” she said, “can you tell me the amount of the + national debt of France?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere about nine hundred million francs, I believe,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly my price,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “For giving up Peter Ruff?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + She looked at her employer thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t look worth it, does he?” she said, with a queer little smile. + “I happen to care for him, though—that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Founcelles shrugged his shoulders. He knew men and women, and + for the present he accepted defeat. He sighed heavily. + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate our friend, and I envy him,” he said. “If ever you should + change your mind, Mademoiselle—” + </p> + <p> + “It is our privilege, isn’t it?” she remarked, with a brilliant smile. “If + I do, I shall certainly let you know.” + </p> + <p> + On the way home, Peter Ruff was genial—Miss Brown silent. He had + escaped from a difficult position, and his sense of gratitude toward his + companion was strong. He showed her many little attentions on the voyage + which sometimes escaped him. From Dover, they had a carriage to + themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” Miss Brown said, after he had made her comfortable, “when is it + to be?” + </p> + <p> + “When is what to be?” he asked, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Our marriage,” she answered, looking at him for a moment in most + bewildering fashion and then suddenly dropping her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff returned her gaze in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Violet?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Just what I say,” she answered, composedly. “When are we going to be + married?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff frowned. + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” he said. “We are not going to be married. You know that + quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I don’t!” she declared, smiling at him in a heavenly fashion. “At + your request I have told Monsieur de Founcelles that we were engaged. + Incidentally, I have refused two hundred and fifty thousand francs and, I + believe, an admirer, for your sake. I declared that I was going to marry + you, and I must keep my word.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff began to feel giddy. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Violet,” he said, “you know very well that we arranged all + that between ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Arranged all that?” she repeated, with a little laugh. “Perhaps we did. + You asked me to marry you, and you posed as my fiancee. You kept it up + just as long as you—it suits me to keep it up a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say—do you seriously mean that you expect me to + marry you?” he asked, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she admitted. “I have meant you to for some time, Peter!” + </p> + <p> + She was very alluring, and Peter Ruff hesitated. She held out her hands + and leaned towards him. Her muff fell to the floor. She had raised her + veil, and a faint perfume of violets stole into the carriage. Her lips + were a little parted, her eyes were saying unutterable things. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t want me to sue you, do you, Peter?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff sighed—and yielded. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. WONDERFUL JOHN DORY + </h2> + <p> + The woman who had been Peter Ruff’s first love had fallen upon evil days. + Her prettiness was on the wane—powder and rouge, late hours, and + excesses of many kinds, had played havoc with it, even in these few + months. Her clothes were showy but cheap. Her boots themselves, unclean + and down at heel, told the story. She stood upon the threshold of Peter + Ruff’s office, and looked half defiantly, half doubtfully at Violet, who + was its sole occupant. + </p> + <p> + “Can I do anything for you?” the latter asked, noticing the woman’s + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Mr. Ruff,” the visitor said. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ruff is out at present,” Violet answered. + </p> + <p> + “When will he be in?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you,” Violet said. “Perhaps you had better leave a message. + Or will you call again? Mr. Ruff is very uncertain in his movements.” + </p> + <p> + Maud sank into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll wait,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” Violet remarked, raising her eyebrows, “whether that will + be convenient. There may be other clients in. Mr. Ruff himself may not be + back for several hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you his secretary?” Maud asked, without moving. + </p> + <p> + “I am his secretary and also his wife,” Violet declared. The woman raised + herself a little in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Some people have all the luck,” she muttered. “It’s only a few months ago + that Mr. Ruff was glad enough to take me out. You remember when I used to + come here?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” Violet assented. + </p> + <p> + “I was all right then,” the woman continued, “and now—now I’m down + and out,” she added, with a little sob. “You see what I am like. You look + as though you didn’t care to have me in the office, and I don’t wonder at + it. You look as though you were afraid I’d come to beg, and you are right—I + have come to beg.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure Mr. Ruff will do what he can for you,” Violet said, “although—” + </p> + <p> + “I see you know all about it,” Maud interrupted, with a hard little laugh. + “I came once to wheedle information out of him. I came to try and betray + the only man who ever really cared for me. Mr. Ruff was too clever, and I + am thankful for it. I have been as big a fool as a woman can be, but I am + paying—oh, I am paying for it right enough!” + </p> + <p> + She swayed in her chair, and Violet was only just in time to catch her. + She led the fainting woman to an inner room, made her comfortable upon a + sofa, and sent out for some food and a bottle of wine. Down in the street + below, John Dory, who had tracked his wife to the building, was walking + away with face as black as night. He knew that Maud had lost her position, + that she was in need of money—almost penniless. He had waited to see + to whom she would turn, hoping—poor fool as he called himself—that + she would come back to him. And it was his enemy to whom she had gone! He + had seen her enter the building; he knew that she had not left it. In the + morning they brought him another report—she was still within. It was + the end, this, he told himself! There must be a settlement between him and + Peter Ruff! + </p> + <p> + Mr. John Dory, who had arrived at Clenarvon Court in a four-wheel cab from + the nearest railway station, was ushered by the butler to the door of one + of the rooms on the ground floor, overlooking the Park. A policeman was + there on guard—a policeman by his attitude and salute, although he + was in plain clothes. John Dory nodded, and turned to the butler. + </p> + <p> + “You see, the man knows me,” he said. “Here is my card. I am John Dory + from Scotland Yard. I want to have a few words with the sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + The butler hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Our orders are very strict, sir,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot + allow you to enter the room without a special permit from his lordship. + You see, we have had no advice of your coming.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” he answered. “If every one were to obey his orders as + literally, there would be fewer robberies. However, you see that this man + recognizes me.” + </p> + <p> + The butler turned toward an elderly gentleman in a pink coat and + riding-breeches, who had just descended into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “His lordship is here,” he said. “He will give you permission, without a + doubt. There is a gentleman from Scotland Yard, your lordship,” he + explained, “who wishes to enter the morning-room to speak with the + sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + “Inspector John Dory, at your lordship’s service,” saluting. “I have been + sent down from town to help in this little business.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Clenarvon smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought that, under the circumstances,” he said, “two of + you would have been enough. Still, it is not for me to complain. Pray go + in and speak to the sergeant. You will find him inside. Rather dull work + for him, I’m afraid, and quite unnecessary.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure, your lordship,” Dory answered. “The Clenarvon diamonds + are known all over the world, and I suppose there isn’t a thieves’ den in + Europe that does not know that they will remain here exposed with your + daughter’s other wedding presents.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Clenarvon smiled once more and shrugged his shoulders. He was a man + who had unbounded faith in his fellow-creatures. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he said, “it is the penalty one has to pay for historical + possessions. Go in and talk to the sergeant, by all means, Mr. Dory. I + hope that Graves will succeed in making you comfortable during your stay + here.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory was accordingly admitted into the room which was so jealously + guarded. At first sight, it possessed a somewhat singular appearance. The + windows had every one of them been boarded up, and the electric lights + consequently fully turned on. A long table stood in the middle of the + apartment, serving as support for a long glass showcase, open at the top. + Within this, from end to end, stretched the presents which a large circle + of acquaintances were presenting to one of the most popular young women in + society, on the occasion of her approaching marriage to the Duke of + Rochester. In the middle, the wonderful Clenarvon diamonds, set in the + form of a tiara, flashed strange lights into the somberly lit apartment. + At the end of the table a police sergeant was sitting, with a little pile + of newspapers and illustrated journals before him. He rose to his feet + with alacrity at his superior’s entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Saunders,” John Dory said. “I see you’ve got it pretty snug + in here.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, thank you, sir,” Saunders answered. “Is there anything + stirring?” + </p> + <p> + John Dory looked behind to be sure that the door was closed. Then he + stopped for a moment to gaze at the wonderful diamonds, and finally sat on + the table by his subordinate’s side. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly that, Saunders,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I came down + here because of that list of guests you sent me up.” + </p> + <p> + Saunders smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I think I can guess the name you singled out, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It was Peter Ruff, of course,” Dory said. “What is he doing here in the + house, under his own name, and as a guest?” + </p> + <p> + “I have asked no questions, sir,” Saunders answered. “I underlined the + name in case it might seem worth your while to make inquiries.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing has happened, of course?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” Saunders answered. “You see, with the windows all boarded up, + there is practically only the ordinary door to guard, so we feel fairly + secure.” + </p> + <p> + “No one hanging about?” the detective asked. “Mr. Ruff himself, for + instance, hasn’t been trying to make your acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + “No sign of it, sir,” the man answered. “I saw him pass through the hall + yesterday afternoon, as I went off duty, and he was in riding clothes all + splashed with mud. I think he has been hunting every day.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory muttered something between his lips, and turned on his heel. + </p> + <p> + “How many men have you here, Saunders?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Only two, sir, beside myself,” the man replied. + </p> + <p> + The detective went round the boarded windows, examining the work carefully + until he reached the door. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see if I can have a word with his lordship,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He caught Lord Clenarvon in the act of mounting his horse in the great + courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mr. Dory?” the Earl asked, stooping down. + </p> + <p> + “There is one name, your lordship, among your list of guests, concerning + which I wish to have a word with you,” the detective said—“the name + of Mr. Peter Ruff.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know anything about him,” Lord Clenarvon answered, cheerfully. “You + must see my daughter, Lady Mary. It was she who sent him his invitation. + Seems a decent little fellow, and rides as well as the best. You’ll find + Lady Mary about somewhere, if you’d like to ask her.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Clenarvon hurried off, with a little farewell wave of his crop, and + John Dory returned into the house to make inquiries respecting Lady Mary. + In a very few minutes he was shown into her presence. She smiled at him + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Another detective!” she exclaimed. “I am sure I ought to feel quite safe + now. What can I do for you, Mr. Dory?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had a list of the guests sent to me,” Dory answered, “in which I + notice the name of Mr. Peter Ruff.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have just spoken to his lordship,” the detective continued, “and he + referred me to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to know all about Mr. Ruff?” Lady Mary asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “If your ladyship will pardon my saying so, I think that neither you nor + any one else could tell me that. What I wished to say was that I + understood that we at Scotland Yard were placed in charge of your jewels + until after the wedding. Mr. Peter Ruff is, as you may be aware, a private + detective himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand perfectly,” Lady Mary said. “I can assure you, Mr. Dory, + that Mr. Ruff is here entirely as a personal and very valued friend of my + own. On two occasions he has rendered very signal service to my family—services + which I am quite unable to requite.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, your ladyship, there is nothing more to be said. I conceive + it, however, to be my duty to tell you that in our opinion—the + opinion of Scotland Yard—there are things about the career of Mr. + Peter Ruff which need explanation. He is a person whom we seldom let + altogether out of our sight.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Mary laughed frankly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Dory,” she said, “this is one of the cases, then, in which I + can assure you that I know more than Scotland Yard. There is no person in + the world in whom I have more confidence, and with more reason, than Mr. + Peter Ruff.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I thank your ladyship,” he said. “I trust that your confidence will never + be misplaced. May I ask one more question?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” Lady Mary replied, “so long as you make no insinuations + whatever against my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be very sorry to do so,” John Dory declared. “I simply wish to + know whether Mr. Ruff has any instructions from you with reference to the + care of your jewels?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” Lady Mary replied, decidedly. “Mr. Ruff is here entirely + as my guest. He has been in the room with the rest of us, to look at them, + and it was he, by the bye, who discovered a much more satisfactory way of + boarding the windows. Anything else, Mr. Dory?” + </p> + <p> + “I thank your ladyship, nothing!” the detective answered. “With your + permission, I propose to remain here until after the ceremony.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you like, of course,” Lady Mary said. “I hope you will be + comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory bowed, and returned to confer with his sergeant. Afterwards, + finding the morning still fine, he took his hat and went for a walk in the + park. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, this, in some respects the most remarkable of the + adventures which had ever befallen Mr. Peter Ruff, came to him by + accident. Lady Mary had read the announcement of his marriage in the + paper, had driven at once to his office with a magnificent present, and + insisted upon his coming with his wife to the party which was assembling + at Clenarvon Court in honor of her own approaching wedding. Peter Ruff had + taken few holidays of late years, and for several days had thoroughly + enjoyed himself. The matter of the Clenarvon jewels he considered, + perhaps, with a slight professional interest; but so far as he could see, + the precautions for guarding them were so adequate that the subject did + not remain in his memory. He had, however, a very distinct and + disagreeable shock when, on the night of John Dory’s appearance, he + recognized among a few newly-arrived guests the Marquis de Sogrange. He + took the opportunity, as soon as possible, of withdrawing his wife from a + little circle among whom they had been talking, to a more retired corner + of the room. She saw at once that something had happened to disturb him. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, “don’t look behind now—” + </p> + <p> + “I recognized him at once,” she interrupted. “It is the Marquis de + Sogrange.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It will be best for you,” he said, “not to notice him. Of course, his + presence here may be accidental. He has a perfect right to enter any + society he chooses. At the same time, I am uneasy.”’ + </p> + <p> + She understood in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The Clenarvon diamonds!” she whispered. He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It is just the sort of affair which would appeal to the ‘Double-Four,’” + he said. “They are worth anything up to a quarter of a million, and it is + an enterprise which could scarcely be attempted except by some one in a + peculiar position. Violet, if I were not sure that he had seen me, I + should leave the house this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you understand,” Peter Ruff continued, softly, “that I myself am + still what they call a corresponding member of the ‘Double-Four,’ and they + have a right to appeal to me for help in this country, as I have a right + to appeal to them for help or information in France? We have both made use + of one another, to some extent. No doubt, if the Marquis has any scheme in + his mind, he would look upon me as a valuable ally.” + </p> + <p> + She turned slowly pale. + </p> + <p> + “Peter,” she said, “you wouldn’t dream—you wouldn’t dare to be so + foolish?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head firmly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” he said, “we talked that all out long ago. A few years + since, I felt that I had been treated badly, that I was an alien, and that + the hand of the law was against me. I talked wildly then, perhaps. When I + put up my sign and sat down for clients, I meant to cheat the law, if I + could. Things have changed, Violet. I want nothing of that sort. I have + kept my hands clean and I mean to do so. Why, years ago,” he continued, + “when I was feeling at my wildest, these very jewels were within my grasp + one foggy night, and I never touched them.” + </p> + <p> + “What would happen if you refused to help?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” Peter Ruff answered. “The conditions are a little severe. + But, after all, there are no hard and fast rules. It rests with the + Marquis himself to shrug his shoulders and appreciate my position. Perhaps + he may not even exchange a word with me. Here is Lord Sotherst coming to + talk to you, and Captain Hamilton is waiting for me to tell him an + address. Remember, don’t recognize Sogrange.” + </p> + <p> + Dinner that night was an unusually cheerful meal. Peter Ruff, who was an + excellent raconteur, told many stories. The Marquis de Sogrange was + perhaps the next successful in his efforts to entertain his neighbors. + Violet found him upon her left hand, and although he showed not the + slightest signs of having ever seen her before, they were very soon + excellent friends. After dinner, Sogrange and Peter Ruff drifted together + on their way to the billiard-room. Sogrange, however, continued to talk + courteously of trifles until, having decided to watch the first game, they + found themselves alone on the leather divan surrounding the room. + </p> + <p> + “This is an unexpected pleasure, my friend,” Sogrange said, watching the + ash of his cigar. “Professional?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. “Not in the least,” he answered. “I have had + the good fortune to render Lady Mary and her brother, at different times, + services which they are pleased to value highly. We are here as ordinary + guests—my wife and I.” The Marquis sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that wife of yours, Ruff,” he said. “She is charming, I admit, and + you are a lucky man; but it was a price—a very great price to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “You, perhaps, are ambitious, Marquis,” Peter Ruff answered. “I have not + done so badly. A little contents me.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange looked at him as though he were some strange creature. + </p> + <p> + “I see!” he murmured. “I see! With you, of course, the commercial side + comes uppermost. Mr. Ruff, what do you suppose the income from my estate + amounts to?” Peter Ruff shook his head. He did not even know that the + Marquis was possessed of estates! + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere about seven millions of francs,” Sogrange declared. “There are + few men in Paris more extravagant than I, and I think that we Frenchmen + know what extravagance means. But I cannot spend my income. Do you think + that it is for the sake of gain that I have come across the Channel to add + the Clenarvon diamonds to our coffers?” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff sat very still. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” Sogrange answered. “Didn’t you realize it directly you saw + me? What is there, do you think, in a dull English house-party to attract + a man like myself? Don’t you understand that it is the gambler’s instinct—the + restless desire to be playing pitch-and-toss with fate, with honor, with + life and death, if you will—that brings such as myself into the + ranks of the ‘Double-Four’? It is the weariness which kills, Peter Ruff. + One must needs keep it from one’s bones.” + </p> + <p> + “Marquis,” Peter Ruff answered, “I do not profess to understand you. I am + not weary of life, in fact I love it. I am looking forward to the years + when I have enough money—and it seems as though that time is not far + off—when I can buy a little place in the country, and hunt a little + and shoot a little, and live a simple out-of-door life. You see, Marquis, + we are as far removed as the poles.” + </p> + <p> + “Obviously!” Sogrange answered. + </p> + <p> + “Your confidence,” Peter Ruff continued, “the confidence with which you + have honored me, inspires me to make you one request. I am here, indeed, + as a friend of the family. You will not ask me to help in any designs you + may have against the Clenarvon jewels?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. His lips, when they + parted from his white teeth, resolved themselves into lines which at that + moment seemed to Peter Ruff more menacing than mirthful. Sogrange was, in + many ways, a man of remarkable appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Peter Ruff,” he said, “you are a bourgeois little person! You should + have been the burgomaster in a little German town, or a French mayor with + a chain about your neck. We will see. I make no promises. All that I + insist upon, for the present, is that you do not leave this house-party + without advising me—that is to say, if you are really looking + forward to that pleasant life in the country, where you will hunt a little + and shoot a little, and grow into the likeness of a vegetable. You, with + your charming wife! Peter Ruff, you should be ashamed to talk like that! + Come, I must play bridge with the Countess. I am engaged for a table.” + </p> + <p> + The two men parted. Peter Ruff was uneasy. On his way from the room, Lord + Sotherst insisted upon his joining a pool. + </p> + <p> + “Charming fellow, Sogrange,” the latter remarked, as he chalked his cue. + “He has been a great friend of the governor’s—he and his father + before him. Our families have intermarried once or twice.” + </p> + <p> + “He seems very agreeable,” Peter Ruff answered, devoting himself to the + game. + </p> + <p> + The following night, being the last but one before the wedding itself, a + large dinner-party had been arranged for, and the resources of even so + princely a mansion as Clenarvon Court were strained to their utmost by the + entertainment of something like one hundred guests in the great + banqueting-hall. The meal was about half-way through when those who were + not too entirely engrossed in conversation were startled by hearing a + dull, rumbling sound, like the moving of a number of pieces of heavy + furniture. People looked doubtfully at one another. Peter Ruff and the + Marquis de Sogrange were among the first to spring to their feet. + </p> + <p> + “It’s an explosion somewhere,” the latter cried. “Sounds close at hand, + too.” + </p> + <p> + They made their way out into the hall. Exactly opposite now was the room + in which the wedding presents had been placed, and where for days nothing + had been seen but a closed door and a man on duty outside. The door now + stood wide open, and in place of the single electric light which was left + burning through the evening, the place seemed almost aflame. + </p> + <p> + Ruff, Sogrange and Lord Sotherst were the first three to cross the + threshold. They were met by a rush of cold wind. Opposite to them, two of + the windows, with their boardings, had been blown away. Sergeant Saunders + was still sitting in his usual place at the end of the table, his head + bent upon his folded arms. The man who had been on duty outside was + standing over him, white with horror. Far away in the distance, down the + park, one could faintly hear the throbbing of an engine, and Peter Ruff, + through the chasm, saw the lights of a great motor-car flashing in and out + amongst the trees. The room itself—the whole glittering array of + presents—seemed untouched. Only the great center-piece—the + Clenarvon diamonds—had gone. Even as they stood there, the rest of + the guests crowding into the open door, John Dory tore through, his face + white with excitement. Peter Ruff’s calm voice penetrated the din of + tongues. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Sotherst,” he said, “you have telephones in the keepers’ lodges. + There is a motor-car being driven southwards at full speed. Telephone + down, and have your gates secured. Dory, I should keep every one out of + the room. Some one must telephone for a doctor. I suppose your man has + been hurt.” + </p> + <p> + The guests were wild with curiosity, but Lord Clenarvon, with an insistent + gesture, led the way back to the diningroom. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever has happened,” he said, “the people who are in charge there know + best how to deal with the situation. There is a detective from Scotland + Yard and his subordinates, and a gentleman in whom I also have most + implicit confidence. We will resume our dinner, if you please, ladies and + gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Unwillingly, the people were led away. John Dory was already in his + great-coat, ready to spring into the powerful motor-car which had been + ordered out from the garage. A doctor, who had been among the guests, was + examining the man Saunders, who sat in that still, unnatural position at + the head of the table. + </p> + <p> + “The poor fellow has been shot in the back of the head with some peculiar + implement,” he said. “The bullet is very long—almost like a needle—and + it seems to have penetrated very nearly to the base of the brain.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he dead?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + The doctor shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he answered. “An inch higher up and he must have died at once. I + want some of the men-servants to help me carry him to a bedroom, and + plenty of hot water. Some one else must go for my instrument case.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Sotherst took these things in charge, and John Dory turned to the man + whom they had found standing over him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell us exactly what happened,” he said, briefly. + </p> + <p> + “I was standing outside the door,” the man answered. “I heard no sound + inside—there was nothing to excite suspicion in any way. Suddenly + there was this explosion. It took me, perhaps, thirty or forty seconds to + get the key out of my pocket and unlock the door. When I entered, the side + of the room was blown in like that, the diamonds were gone, Saunders was + leaning forward just in the position he is in now, and there wasn’t + another soul in sight. Then you and the others came.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory rushed from the room; they had brought him word that the car was + waiting. At such a moment, he was ready even to forget his ancient enmity. + He turned towards Peter Ruff, whose calm bearing somehow or other + impressed even the detective with a sense of power. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come along?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Dory, no!” he said. “I am glad you have asked me, but I think + you had better go alone.” + </p> + <p> + A few seconds later, the pursuit was started. Saunders was carried out of + the room, followed by the doctor. There remained only Peter Ruff and the + man who had been on duty outside. Peter Ruff seated himself where Saunders + had been sitting, and seemed to be closely examining the table all round + for some moments. Once he took up something from between the pages of the + book which the Sergeant had apparently been reading, and put it carefully + into his own pocketbook. Then he leaned back in the chair, with his hands + clasped behind his head and his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, as though + thinking intently. + </p> + <p> + “Hastings,” he said to the policeman, who all the time was pursuing a + stream of garrulous, inconsequent remarks, “I wonder whether you’d step + outside and see Mr. Richards, the butler. Ask him if he would be so good + as to spare me a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it, sir,” the man answered, with one more glance through the open + space. “Lord!” he added, “they must have been in through there and out + again like cats!” + </p> + <p> + “It was quick work, certainly,” Peter Ruff answered, genially, “but then, + an enterprise like this would, of course, only be attempted by experts.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was not left alone long. Mr. Richards came hurrying in. + </p> + <p> + “This is a terrible business, sir!” he said. “His lordship has excused me + from superintending the service of the dinner. Anything that I can do for + you I am to give my whole attention to. These were my orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good of you, Richards,” Peter Ruff answered, “very thoughtful of his + lordship. In the first place, then, I think, we will have the rest of this + jewelry packed in cases at once. Not that anything further is likely to + happen,” he continued, “but still, it would be just as well out of the + way. I will remain here and superintend this, if you will send a couple of + careful servants. In the meantime, I want you to do something else for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” the man answered. + </p> + <p> + “I want a plan of the house,” Peter Ruff said, “with the names of the + guests who occupy this wing.” + </p> + <p> + The butler nodded gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I can supply you with it very shortly, sir,” he said. “There is no + difficulty at all about the plan, as I have several in my room; but it + will take me some minutes to pencil in the names.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I will superintend things here until you return,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It is to be hoped, sir,” the man said, as he retreated, “that the + gentleman from Scotland Yard will catch the thieves. After all, they + hadn’t more than ten minutes’ start, and our Daimler is a flyer.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure I hope so,” Peter Ruff answered, heartily. + </p> + <p> + But, alas! no such fortune was in store for Mr. John Dory. At daybreak he + returned in a borrowed trap from a neighboring railway station. + </p> + <p> + “Our tires had been cut,” he said, in reply to a storm of questions. “They + began to go, one after the other, as soon as we had any speed on. We + traced the car to Salisbury, and there isn’t a village within forty miles + that isn’t looking out for it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff, who had just returned from an early morning walk, nodded + sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Shall you be here all day, Mr. Dory?” he asked. “There’s just a word or + two I should like to have with you.” + </p> + <p> + Dory turned away. He had forced himself, in the excitement of the moment, + to speak to his ancient enemy, but in this hour of his humility the man’s + presence was distasteful to him. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” he said, shortly. “It depends on how things may turn + out.” + </p> + <p> + The daily life at Clenarvon Court proceeded exactly as usual. Breakfast + was served early, as there was to be big day’s shoot. The Marquis de + Sogrange and Peter Ruff smoked their cigarettes together afterwards in the + great hall. Then it was that Peter Ruff took the plunge. + </p> + <p> + “Marquis,” he said, “I should like to know exactly how I stand with you—the + ‘Double-Four,’ that is to say—supposing I range myself for an hour + or so on the side of the law?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You amuse yourself, Mr. Ruff,” he remarked genially. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” Peter Ruff answered. “I am serious.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange watched the blue cigarette smoke come down his nose. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” he said, “I am no amateur at this game. When I choose to + play it, I am not afraid of Scotland Yard. I am not afraid,” he concluded, + with a little bow, “even of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever bet, Marquis?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five thousand francs,” Sogrange said, smiling, “that your efforts + to aid Mr. John Dory are unavailing.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff entered the amount in his pocketbook. “It is a bargain,” he + declared. “Our bet, I presume, carries immunity for me?” + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” Sogrange answered, with a little bow. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis beckoned to Lord Sotherst, who was crossing the hall. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he said, “do tell me the name of your hatter in London. + Delions failed me at the last moment, and I have not a hat fit for the + ceremony to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll lend you half-a-dozen, if you can wear them,” Lord Sotherst + answered, smiling. “The governor’s sure to have plenty, too.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange touched his head with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he said. “My head is small, even for a Frenchman’s. Imagine me—otherwise, + I trust, suitably attired—walking to the church to-morrow in a hat + which came to my ears!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Sotherst laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Scotts will do you all right,” he said. “You can telephone.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall send my man up,” Sogrange determined. “He can bring me back a + selection. Tell me, at what hour is the first drive this morning, and are + the places drawn yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Come into the gun-room and we’ll see,” Lord Sotherst answered. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff made his way to the back quarters of the house. In a little + sitting-room he found the man he sought, sitting alone. Peter Ruff closed + the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + “John Dory,” he said, “I have come to have a few words with you.” + </p> + <p> + The detective rose to his feet. He was in no pleasant mood. Though the + telephone wires had been flashing their news every few minutes, it seemed, + indeed, as though the car which they had chased had vanished into space. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to say to me?” he asked gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “I want, if I can,” Peter Ruff said earnestly, “to do you a service.” + </p> + <p> + Dory’s eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that I can do without your services.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be foolish,” Peter Ruff said. “You are harboring a grievance + against me which is purely an imaginary one. Now listen to the facts. You + employ your wife—which after all, Dory, I think, was not quite the + straight thing—to try and track down a young man named Spencer + Fitzgerald, who was formerly, in a small way, a client of mine. I find + your wife an agreeable companion—we become friends. Then I discover + her object, and know that I am being fooled. The end of that little + episode you remember. But tell me why should you bear me ill-will for + defending my friend and myself?” + </p> + <p> + The detective came slowly up to Peter Ruff. He took hold of the lapel of + the other’s coat with his left hand, and his right hand was clenched. But + Peter Ruff did not falter. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” said Dory. “I will tell you what grudge I bear against + you. It was your entertainment of my wife which gave her the taste for + luxury and for gadding about. Mind, I don’t blame you for that altogether, + but there the fact remains. She left me. She went on the stage.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” Peter Ruff said. “You must still hold me blameless. She wrote to + me. I went out with her once. The only advice I gave her was to return to + you. So far as I am concerned, I have treated her with the respect that I + would have shown my own sister.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” Dory cried, fiercely. “A month ago, I saw her come to your + fiat. I watched for hours. She did not leave it—she did not leave it + all that night!” + </p> + <p> + “If you object to her visit,” Peter Ruff said quietly, “it is my wife whom + you must blame.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory relaxed his hand and took a quick step backwards. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife?” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” Peter Ruff answered. “Maud—Mrs. Dory—called to see + me; she was ill—she had lost her situation—she was even, I + believe, faint and hungry. I was not present. My wife talked to her and + was sorry for her. While the two women were there together, your wife + fainted. She was put to bed in our one spare room, and she has been shown + every attention and care. Tell me, how long is it since you were at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for ten days,” Dory answered, bitterly. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because when you go back, you will find your wife there,” Peter Ruff + answered. “She has given up the stage. Her one desire is to settle down + and repay you for the trouble she has caused you. You needn’t believe me + unless you like. Ask my wife. She is here. She will tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Dory was overcome. He went back to his seat by the window, and he buried + his face for a moment in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Ruff,” he said, “I don’t deserve this. I’ve had bad times lately, though. + Everything has gone against me. I think I have been a bit careless, with + the troubles at home and that.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” Peter Ruff insisted. “Now I come to the immediate object of my + visit to you. You have had some bad luck at headquarters. I know of it. I + am going to help you to reinstate yourself brilliantly. With that, let us + shake hands and bury all the soreness that there may be between us.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory stared at his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” answered Peter. “Please do not think that I mean to make any + reflection upon your skill. It is just a chance that I was able to see + what you were not able to see. In an hour’s time, you shall restore the + Clenarvon diamonds to Lord Clenarvon. You shall take the reward which he + has just offered, of a thousand pounds. And I promise you that the manner + in which you shall recover the jewels shall be such that you will be + famous for a long time to come.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a wonderful man!” said Dory, hoarsely. “Do you mean, then, that + the jewels were not with those men in the motor-car?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not!” Peter Ruff answered. “But come along. The story will + develop.” + </p> + <p> + At half-past ten that morning, a motor-car turned out from the garage at + Clenarvon Court, and made its way down the avenue. In it was a single + passenger—the dark-faced Parisian valet of the Marquis de Sogrange. + As the car left the avenue and struck into the main road, it was hailed by + Peter Ruff and John Dory, who were walking together along the lane. + </p> + <p> + “Say, my man,” Peter Ruff said, addressing the chauffeur, “are you going + to the station?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” the man answered. “I am taking down the Marquis de Sogrange’s + servant to catch the eleven o’clock train to town.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mind giving us a lift?” Peter Ruff asked, already opening the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, sir,” the man answered, touching his hat. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff and John Dory stepped into the tonneau of the car. The man + civilly lifted the hatbox from the seat, and made room for his enforced + companions. Nevertheless, it was easy to see that he was not pleased. + </p> + <p> + “There’s plenty of room here for three,” Peter Ruff said, cheerfully, as + they sat on either side of him. “Drive slowly, please, chauffeur. Now, Mr. + Lemprise,” Peter Ruff added, “we will trouble you to change places.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” the man called out, suddenly pale as death. + </p> + <p> + He was held as though in a vice. John Dory’s arm was through his on one + side, and Peter Ruff’s on the other. Apart from that, the muzzle of a + revolver was pressed to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “On second thoughts,” Peter Ruff said, “I think we will keep you like + this. Driver,” he called out, “please return to the Court at once.” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You recognize the gentleman who is with me?” Peter Ruff said. “He is the + detective from Scotland Yard. I have full authority from Lord Clenarvon + over all his servants. Please do as I say.” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated no more. The car was backed and turned, the Frenchman + struggling all the way like a wild cat. Once he tried to kick the hatbox + into the road, but John Dory was too quick for him. So they drove up to + the front door of the Court, to be welcomed with cries of astonishment + from the whole of the shooting party, who were just starting. Foremost + among them was Sogrange. They crowded around the car. Peter Ruff touched + the hatbox with his foot. + </p> + <p> + “If we could trouble your Lordship,” he said, “to open that hatbox, you + will find something that will interest you. Mr. Dory has planned a little + surprise for you, in which I have been permitted to help.” + </p> + <p> + The women, who gathered that something was happening, came hastening out + from the hall. They all crowded round Lord Clenarvon, who was cutting + through the leather strap of the hatbox. Inside the silk hat which reposed + there, were the Clenarvon diamonds. Monsieur le Marquis de Sogrange was + one of the foremost to give vent to an exclamation of delight. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Marquis,” Peter Ruff said, “this should be a lesson to you, I + hope, to have the characters of your servants more rigidly verified. Mr. + Dory tells me that this man came into your employ at the last moment with + a forged recommendation. He is, in effect, a dangerous thief.” + </p> + <p> + “You amaze me!” Sogrange exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “We are all interested in this affair,” Peter Ruff said, “and my friend + John Dory here is, perhaps, too modest properly to explain the matter. If + you care to come with me, we can reconstruct, in a minute, the theft.” + </p> + <p> + John Dory and Peter Ruff first of all handed over their captive, who was + now calm and apparently resigned, to the two policemen who were still on + duty in the Court. Afterwards, Peter Ruff led the way up one flight of + stairs, and turned the handle of the door of an apartment exactly over the + morning-room. It was the bedroom of the Marquis de Sogrange. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dory’s chase in the motor-car,” he said, “was, as you have doubtless + gathered now, merely a blind. It was obvious to his intelligence that the + blowing away of the window was merely a ruse to cover the real method of + the theft. If you will allow me, I will show you how it was done.” + </p> + <p> + The floor was of hardwood, covered with rugs. One of these, near the + fireplace, Peter Ruff brushed aside. The seventh square of hardwood from + the mantelpiece had evidently been tampered with. With very little + difficulty, he removed it. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he explained, “the ceiling of the room below is also of paneled + wood. Having removed this, it is easy to lift the second one, especially + as light screws have been driven in and string threaded about them. There + is now a hole through which you can see into the room below. Has Dory + returned? Ah, here he is!” + </p> + <p> + The detective came hurrying into the room, bearing in his hand a + peculiar-shaped weapon, a handful of little darts like those which had + been found in the wounded man’s head, and an ordinary fishing-rod in a + linen case. + </p> + <p> + “There is the weapon,” Peter Ruff said, “which it was easy enough to fire + from here upon the man who was leaning forward exactly below. Then here, + you will see, is a somewhat peculiar instrument, which shows a great deal + of ingenuity in its details.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the linen case, which was, by the bye, secured by a padlock, and + drew out what was, to all appearance, an ordinary fishing-rod, fitted at + the end with something that looked like an iron hand. Peter Ruff dropped + it through the hole until it reached the table, moved it backwards and + forwards, and turned round with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, “the theft, after all, was very simple. Personally, I + must admit that it took me a great deal by surprise, but my friend Mr. + Dory has been on the right track from the first. I congratulate him most + heartily.” + </p> + <p> + Dory was a little overcome. Lady Mary shook him heartily by the hand, but + as they trooped downstairs she stooped and whispered in Peter Ruff’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how much of this was John Dory,” she said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff said nothing. The detective was already on the telephone, + wiring his report to London. Every one was standing about in little knots, + discussing this wonderful event. Sogrange sought Lord Clenarvon, and + walked with him, arm in arm, down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you, Clenarvon,” he said, “how sorry I am that I should + have been the means of introducing a person like this to the house. I had + the most excellent references from the Prince of Strelitz. No doubt they + were forged. My own man was taken ill just before I left, and I had to + bring some one.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sogrange,” Lord Clenarvon said, “don’t think of it. What we must + be thankful for is that we had so brilliant a detective in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “As John Dory?” Sogrange remarked, with a smile. Lord Clenarvon nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “I don’t see why we should lose a day’s sport because the + diamonds have been recovered. I always felt that they would turn up again + some day or other. You are keen, I know, Sogrange.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” the Marquis answered. “But excuse me for one moment. There is + Mrs. Ruff looking charming there in the corner. I must have just a word + with her.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room and bowed before Violet. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady,” he said, “I have come to congratulate you. You have a + clever husband—a little cleverer, even, than I thought. I have just + had the misfortune to lose to him a bet of twenty-five thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + Violet smiled, a little uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Peter doesn’t gamble as a rule,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange sighed. + </p> + <p> + “This, alas, was no gamble!” he said. “He was betting upon certainties, + but he won. Will you tell him from me, when you see him, that although I + have not the money in my pocket at the moment, I shall pay my debts. Tell + him that we are as careful to do that in France as we are to keep our + word!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed, and passed out with the shooting-party on to the terrace. Peter + Ruff came up, a few minutes later, and his wife gave him the message. + </p> + <p> + “I did that man an injustice,” Peter Ruff said with a sigh of relief. “I + can’t explain now, dear. I’ll tell you all about it later in the day.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing wrong, is there?” she asked him, pleadingly. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” Peter Ruff declared, “everything is right. I have made + friends with Dory, and I have won a thousand pounds. When we leave here, I + am going to look out for that little estate in the country. If you come + out with the lunch, dear, I want you to watch that man Hamilton’s coat. + It’s exactly what I should like to wear myself at my own shooting parties. + See if you can make a sketch of it when he isn’t looking.” + </p> + <p> + Violet laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try,” she promised. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK TWO + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. RECALLED BY THE DOUBLE-FOUR + </h2> + <p> + It is the desire of Madame that you should join our circle here on + Thursday evening next at ten o’clock. + </p> + <p> + The man looked up from the sheet of note-paper which he held in his hand, + and gazed through the open French-windows before which he was standing. It + was a very pleasant and very peaceful prospect. There was his croquet + lawn, smooth-shaven, the hoops neatly arranged, the chalk-mark firm and + distinct upon the boundary. Beyond, the tennis court, the flower gardens, + and, to the left, the walled fruit garden. A little farther away was the + paddock and orchard, and a little farther still, the farm, which for the + last four years had been the joy of his life. His meadows were yellow with + buttercups; a thin line of willows showed where the brook wound its lazy + way through the bottom fields. It was a home, this, in which a man could + well lead a peaceful life, could dream away his days to the music of the + west wind, the gurgling stream, the song of birds, and the low murmuring + of insects. Peter Ruff stood like a man turned to stone, for, even as he + looked, these things passed away from before his eyes, the roar of the + world beat in his ears—the world of intrigue, of crime, the world + where the strong man hewed his way to power, and the weaklings fell like + corn before the sickle. + </p> + <p> + “It is the desire of Madame!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff clenched his fists as he stood there. It was a message from a + world every memory of which had been deliberately crushed, a world, + indeed, in which he had seemed no longer to hold any place. Scarcely yet + of middle age, well-preserved, upright, with neat figure dressed in the + conventional tweeds and gaiters of an English country gentleman, he not + only had loved his life, but he looked the part. He was Peter Ruff, + Esquire, of Aynesford Manor, in the county of Somerset. It could not be + for him, this strange summons. + </p> + <p> + The rustle of a woman’s soft draperies broke in upon his reverie. He + turned around with his usual morning greeting upon his lips. If country + life had agreed with Peter Ruff, it had transformed his wife. Her cheeks + were no longer pale; the extreme slimness of her figure was no longer + apparent. She was just a little more matronly, perhaps, but without doubt + a most beautiful woman. She came smiling across the room—a dream of + white muslin and pink ribbons. + </p> + <p> + “Another forage bill, my dear Peter?” she demanded, passing her arm + through his. “Put it away and admire my new morning gown. It came straight + from Paris, and you will have to pay a great deal of money for it.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled himself together—he had no secrets from his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, and read aloud: + </p> + <p> + RUE DE ST. QUINTAINE. PARIS. + </p> + <p> + DEAR Mr. RUFF, It is a long time since we had the pleasure of a visit from + you. It is the desire of Madame that you should join our circle here on + Thursday evening next at ten o’clock. + </p> + <p> + SOGRANGE. + </p> + <p> + Violet was a little perplexed. She failed, somehow, to recognize the + sinister note underlying those few sentences, “It sounds friendly enough,” + she remarked. “You are not obliged to go, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it sounds all right,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “They won’t expect you to take any notice of it, surely?” she continued. + “When you bought this place, Peter, and left your London offices, you gave + them definitely to understand that you had retired into private life, that + all these things were finished with you.” + </p> + <p> + “There are some things,” Peter Ruff said, slowly, “which are never + finished.” + </p> + <p> + “But you resigned,” she reminded him. “I remember your letter distinctly.” + </p> + <p> + “From the Double-Four,” he answered, “no resignation is recognized save + death. I did what I could and they accepted my explanations, gracefully + and without comment. Now that the time has come, however, when they think + they need my help, you see they do not hesitate to claim it.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not go, Peter? You will not think of going?” she begged. + </p> + <p> + He twisted the letter between his fingers and sat down to his breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I shall not go.” + </p> + <p> + That morning Peter Ruff spent upon his farm, looking over his stock, + examining some new machinery, and talking crops with his bailiff. In the + afternoon he played his customary round of golf. It was the sort of day + which, as a rule, he found completely satisfactory, yet, somehow or other, + a certain sense of weariness crept in upon him toward its close. + </p> + <p> + Two days later he received another letter. This time it was couched in + different terms. On a square card, at the top of which was stamped a small + coronet, he read as follows: + </p> + <p> + Madame de Maupassim at home, Saturday evening, May 2nd, at ten o’clock. + </p> + <p> + In small letters at the bottom left-hand corner were added the words: + </p> + <p> + To meet friends. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff put the card upon the fire and went out for a morning’s rabbit + shooting with his keeper. When he returned luncheon was ready, but Violet + was absent. He rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your mistress, Jane?” he asked the parlor-maid. + </p> + <p> + The girl had no idea. Mrs. Ruff had left for the village several hours + before; since then she had not been seen. Peter Ruff ate his luncheon + alone, and understood. The afternoon wore on, and at night he traveled up + to London. He knew better than to waste time by purposeless inquiries. + Instead he took the nine o’clock train the next morning to Paris. + </p> + <p> + It was a chamber of death into which he was ushered, dismal—yet, of + its sort, unique, marvelous. The room itself might have been the sleeping + apartment of an empress—lofty, with white paneled walls, adorned + simply with gilded lines; with high windows, closely curtained now, so + that neither sound nor the light of day might penetrate into the room. In + the middle of the apartment upon a canopy bedside, which had once adorned + a king’s palace, lay Madame de Maupassim. Her face was already touched + with the finger of death, yet her eyes were undimmed and her lips + unquivering. Her hands, covered with rings, lay out before her upon the + lace coverlid. Supported by many pillows, she was issuing her last + instructions with the cold precision of the man of affairs who makes the + necessary arrangements for a few days, absence from his business. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff, who had not even been allowed sufficient time to change his + traveling clothes, was brought without hesitation to her bedside. She + looked at him in silence for a moment, with a cold glitter in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are four days late, Monsieur Peter Ruff,” she remarked. “Why did you + not obey your first summons? + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he answered, “I thought there must be a misunderstanding. Four + years ago, I gave notice to the council that I had married and retired + into private life. A country farmer is of no further use to the world.” + </p> + <p> + The woman’s thin lip curled. + </p> + <p> + “From death and the Double Four,” she said, “there is no resignation which + counts. You are as much our creature to-day, as I am the creature of the + disease which is carrying me across the threshold of death.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff remained silent. The woman’s words seemed full of dread + significance. Besides, how was it possible to contradict the dying? + </p> + <p> + “It is upon the unwilling of the world,” she continued, speaking slowly, + yet with extraordinary distinctness, “that its greatest honors are often + conferred. The name of my successor has been balloted for, secretly. It is + you, Peter Ruff, who have been chosen.” + </p> + <p> + This time he was silent because he was literally bereft of words. This + woman was dying and fancying strange things! He looked from one to the + other of the stern, pale faces of those who were gathered around her + bedside. Seven of them there were—the same seven. At that moment + their eyes were all focused upon him. Peter Ruff shrank back. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he murmured, “this cannot be.” + </p> + <p> + Her lips twitched as though she would have smiled. “What we have decided,” + she said, “we have decided. Nothing can alter that, not even the will of + Mr. Peter Ruff.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been out of the world for four years,” Peter Ruff protested. “I + have no longer ambitions, no longer any desire—” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” the woman interrupted. “You lie or you do yourself an + injustice. We gave you four years, and looking into your face, I think + that it has been enough. I think that the weariness is there already. In + any case, the charge which I lay upon you in these my last moments, is one + which you can escape by death only.” + </p> + <p> + A low murmur of voices from those others repeated her words. + </p> + <p> + “By death only!” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff opened his lips, but closed them again without speech. A wave + of emotion seemed passing through the room. Something strange was + happening. It was Death itself, which had come among them. + </p> + <p> + A morning journalist wrote of the death of Madame eloquently, and with + feeling. She had been a broad-minded aristocrat, a woman of brilliant + intellect and great friendships, a woman of whose inner life during the + last ten or fifteen years little was known, yet who, in happier times, + might well have played a great part in the history of her country. + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff drove back from the cemetery with the Marquis de Sogrange, and, + for the first time since the death of Madame, serious subjects were spoken + of. + </p> + <p> + “I have waited here patiently,” he declared, “but there are limits. I want + my wife.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange took him by the arm and led him into the library of the house in + the Rue de St. Quintaine. The six men who were already there waiting rose + to their feet. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” the Marquis said, “is it your will that I should be + spokesman?” + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of assent. Then Sogrange turned toward his companion, + and something new seemed to have crept into his manner—a solemn, + almost a threatening note. + </p> + <p> + “Peter Ruff,” he continued, “you have trifled with the one organization in + this world which has never allowed liberties to be taken with it. Men who + have done greater service than you have died, for the disobedience of a + day. You have been treated leniently, according to the will of Madame. + According to her will, and in deference to the position which you must now + take up among us, we will treat you as no other has ever been treated by + us. The Double-Four admits your leadership and claims you for its own.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not prepared to discuss anything of the sort,” Peter Ruff declared, + doggedly, “until my wife is restored to me.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis smiled. + </p> + <p> + “The traditions of your race, Mr. Ruff,” he said, “are easily manifest in + you. Now hear our decision. Your wife shall be restored to you on the day + when you take up this position to which you have become entitled. Sit down + and listen.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff was a rebel at heart, but he felt the grip of iron. + </p> + <p> + “During these four years when you, my friend, have been growing turnips + and shooting your game, events in the great world have marched, new powers + have come into being, a new page of history has been opened. As everything + which has good at the heart evolves toward the good, so we of the + Double-Four have lifted our great enterprise onto a higher plane. The + world of criminals is still at our beck and call, we still claim the right + to draw the line between moral theft and immoral honesty, but to-day the + Double-Four is concerned with greater things. Within the four walls of + this room, within the hearing of these my brothers, whose fidelity is as + sure as the stones of Paris, I tell you a great secret. The government of + our country has craved for our aid and the aid of our organization. It is + no longer the wealth of the world alone, which we may control, but the + actual destinies of nations.” + </p> + <p> + “What I suppose you mean to say is,” Peter Ruff remarked, “that you’ve + been going in for politics?” + </p> + <p> + “You put it crudely, my English bull-dog,” Sogrange answered, “but you are + right. We are occupied now by affairs of international importance. More + than once, during the last few month, ours has been the hand which has + changed the policy of an empire.” + </p> + <p> + “Most interesting,” Peter Ruff declared, “but so far as I, personally, am + concerned—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” interrupted the Marquis. “Not a hundred yards from the French + Embassy, in London, there is waiting for you a house and servants no less + magnificent than the Embassy itself. You will become the ambassador in + London of the Double-Four, titular head of our association, a personage + whose power is second to none in your great city. I do not address words + of caution to you, my friend, because we have satisfied ourselves as to + your character and capacity before we consented that you should occupy + your present position. But I ask you to remember this. The will of Madame + lives even beyond the grave. The spirit which animated her when alive + breathes still in all of us. In London you will wield a great power. Use + it for the common good. And, remember this—the Double-Four has never + failed, the Double-Four never can fail.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you are so confident,” Peter Ruff said. “Of course, if + I have to take this thing on, I shall do my best, but if I might venture + to allude, for a moment, to anything so trifling as my own domestic + affairs, I am very anxious to know about my wife.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You will find Mrs. Ruff awaiting you in London,” he announced. “Your + address is Porchester House, Porchester Square.” + </p> + <p> + “When do I go there?” Peter Ruff asked. + </p> + <p> + “To-night,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “And what do I do when I get there?” he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “For three days,” the Marquis told him, “you will remain indoors, and give + audience to whoever may come to you. At the end of that time, you will + understand a little more of our purpose and our objects—perhaps, + even, of our power.” + </p> + <p> + “I see difficulties,” Peter Ruff remarked. “There will be a good many + people who will remember me when I had offices in Southampton Row. My + name, you see, is uncommon.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange drew a document from the breast pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “When you leave this house to-night,” he proclaimed, “we bid good-by + forever to Mr. Peter Ruff. You will find in this envelope the title deeds + of a small property which is our gift to you. Henceforth you will be known + by the name and title of your estates.” + </p> + <p> + “Title!” Peter Ruff gasped. + </p> + <p> + “You will reappear in London,” Sogrange continued, “as the Baron de + Grost.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It won’t do,” he declared, “people will find me out.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to be found out,” the Marquis went on, a little wearily. + “Your country life has dulled your wits, Baron. The title and the name are + justly yours—they go with the property. For the rest, the history of + your family, and of your career up to the moment when you enter Porchester + House to-night, will be inside this packet. You can peruse it upon the + journey, and remember that we can, at all times, bring a hundred + witnesses, if necessary, to prove that you are who you declare yourself to + be. When you get to Charing-Cross, do not forget that it will be the + carriage and servants of the Baron de Grost which await you.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, thoughtfully, “I suppose I shall get used to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Sogrange answered. “For the moment, we are passing through a + quiet time, necessitated by the mortal illness of Madame. You will be able + to spend the next few weeks in getting used to your new position. You will + have a great many callers, inspired by us, who will see that you make the + right acquaintances and that you join the right clubs. At the same time, + let me warn you always to be ready. There is trouble brewing just now all + over Europe. In one way or another, we may become involved at any moment. + The whole machinery of our society will be explained to you by your + secretary. You will find him already installed at Porchester House. A + glass of wine, Baron, before you leave.” + </p> + <p> + Peter Ruff glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “There are my things to pack,” he began— + </p> + <p> + Sogrange smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Your valet is already on the front seat of the automobile which is + waiting,” he remarked. “You will find him attentive and trustworthy. The + clothes which you brought with you we have taken the liberty of dispensing + with. You will find others in your trunk, and at Porchester House you can + send for any tailor you choose. One toast, Baron. We drink to the + Double-Four—to the great cause!” + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur of voices. Sogrange lifted once more his glass. + </p> + <p> + “May Peter Ruff rest in peace!” he said. “We drink to his ashes. We drink + long life and prosperity to the Baron de Grost!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. PRINCE ALBERT’S CARD DEBTS + </h2> + <p> + It was half past twelve, and every table at the Berkeley Bridge Club was + occupied. On the threshold of the principal room a visitor, who was being + shown around, was asking questions of the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any gambling here?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + The secretary shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that some of them go a little beyond the club points,” he + answered. “You see that table against the wall? They are playing shilling + auction there.” + </p> + <p> + The table near the wall was, perhaps, the most silent. The visitor looked + at it last and most curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the dissipated-looking boy playing there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Prince Albert of Trent,” the secretary answered. + </p> + <p> + “And who is the little man, rather like Napoleon, who sits in the + easy-chair and watches?” + </p> + <p> + “The Baron de Grost.” + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of him,” the visitor declared. + </p> + <p> + “He is a very rich financier who has recently blossomed out in London,” + the secretary said. “One sees him everywhere. He has a good-looking wife, + who is playing in the other room.” + </p> + <p> + “A good-looking wife,” the visitor remarked, thoughtfully. “But, yes! I + thank you very much, Mr. Courtledge for showing me round. I will find my + friends now.” + </p> + <p> + He turned away, leaving Courtledge alone, for a minute or two, on the + threshold of the card room. The secretary’s attention was riveted upon the + table near the wall, and the frown on his face deepened. Just as he was + moving off, the Baron de Grost rose and joined him. + </p> + <p> + “They are playing a little high in here this evening,” the latter remarked + quietly. + </p> + <p> + Courtledge frowned. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had been in the club when they started,” he said, gloomily. “My + task is all the more difficult now.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Grost looked pensively, for a moment, at the cigarette which + he was carrying. + </p> + <p> + “By the bye, Mr. Courtledge,” he asked, with apparent irrelevance, “what + was the name of the tall man with whom you were talking just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Count von Hern. He was brought in by one of the attaches at the German + Embassy.” + </p> + <p> + Baron de Grost passed his arm through the secretary’s and led him a little + way through the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I recognized our friend,” he remarked. “His presence here this + evening is quite interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Why this evening?” + </p> + <p> + Baron de Grost avoided the question. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Courtledge,” he said, “I think that you will allow me to ask you + something without thinking me impertinent. You know that my wife and I + have taken some interest in Prince Albert. It is on his account, is it + not, that you look so gloomy to-night, as though you had an execution in + front of you?” + </p> + <p> + Courtledge nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he announced, “that we have come to the end of our tether + with that young man. It’s a pity, too, for he isn’t a bad sort, and it + will do the club no good if it gets about. But he hasn’t settled up for a + fortnight, and the matter came before the committee this afternoon. He + owes one man over seven hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Grost listened gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to speak to him to-night?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I must. I am instructed by the committee to ask him not to come to the + club again until he has discharged his obligations.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost smoked thoughtfully for a few moments. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I suppose there is no getting out of it. Don’t rub it in + too thick, though. I mean to have a talk with the boy afterwards, and if I + am satisfied with what he says, the money will be all right.” + </p> + <p> + Courtledge raised his eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “You know, of course, that he has a very small income and no + expectations?” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” Baron de Grost answered. “At the same time, it is hard to + forget that he really is a member of the royal house, even though the + kingdom is a small one.” + </p> + <p> + “Not only is the kingdom a small one,” Courtledge remarked, “but there are + something like five lives between him and the succession. However, it’s + very good-natured of you, Baron, to think of lending him a hand. I’ll let + him down as lightly as I can. You know him better than any one; I wonder + if you could make an excuse to send him out of the room? I’d rather no one + saw me talking to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite easy,” said the Baron. “I’ll manage it.” + </p> + <p> + The rubber was just finishing as De Grost re-entered the room. He touched + the young man, who had been the subject of their conversation, upon the + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My wife would like to speak to you for a moment,” he said. “She is in the + other room.” + </p> + <p> + Prince Albert rose to his feet. He was looking very pale, and the ash-tray + in front of him was littered with cigarette ends. + </p> + <p> + “I will go and pay my respects to the Baroness,” he declared. “It will + change my luck, perhaps. Au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + He passed out of the room and all eyes followed him. + </p> + <p> + “Has the Prince been losing again to-night?” the Baron asked. + </p> + <p> + One of the three men at the table shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “He owes me about five hundred pounds,” he said, “and to tell you the + truth, I’d really rather not play any more. I don’t mind high points, but + his doubles are absurd.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not break up the table?” the Baron suggested. “The boy can scarcely + afford such stakes.” + </p> + <p> + He strolled out of the room in time to meet the Prince, who was standing + in the corridor. A glance at his face was sufficient—the secretary + had spoken. He would have hurried off, but the Baron intercepted him. + </p> + <p> + “You are leaving, Prince?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” was the somewhat curt reply. + </p> + <p> + “I will walk a little way with you, if I may,” De Grost continued. “My + wife brought Lady Brownloe, and the brougham only holds two comfortably.” + </p> + <p> + Prince Albert made no reply. He seemed just then scarcely capable of + speech. When they had reached the pavement, however, the Baron took his + arm. + </p> + <p> + “My young friend,” he inquired, “how much does it all amount to?” + </p> + <p> + The Prince turned towards him with darkening face. + </p> + <p> + “You knew, then,” he demanded, “that Mr. Courtledge was going to speak to + me of my debts?” + </p> + <p> + “I was sorry to hear that it had become necessary,” the Baron answered. + “You must not take it too seriously. You know very well that at a club + like the Berkeley, which has such a varied membership, card debts must be + settled on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine will be settled before mid-day to-morrow,” the young man declared, + sullenly. “I am not sure that it may not be to-night.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost was silent for a moment. They had turned into Piccadilly. He + summoned a taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind coming round to my house and talking to me, for a few + minutes?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll come round later on,” he suggested. “I have a call to make first.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost held open the door of the taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “I want a talk with you,” he said, “before you make that call.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak as though you knew where I was going,” the Prince remarked. + </p> + <p> + His companion made no reply, but the door of the taxicab was still open + and his hand had fallen ever so slightly upon the other’s shoulder. The + Prince yielded to the stronger will. He stepped inside. + </p> + <p> + They drove in silence to Porchester Square. The Baron led the way through + into his own private sanctum, and closed the door carefully. Cigars, + cigarettes, whiskey and soda, and liqueurs were upon the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself, Prince,” he begged, “and then, if you don’t mind, I am + going to ask you a somewhat impertinent question.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince drank the greater part of a whiskey and soda and lit a + cigarette. Then he set his tumbler down and frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Baron de Grost,” he said, “you have been very kind to me since I have had + the pleasure of your acquaintance. I hope you will not ask me any question + that I cannot answer.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” his host declared, “the question which I shall ask will + be one which it will be very much to your advantage to answer. I will put + it as plainly as possible. You are going, as you admit yourself, to pay + your card debts to-night or to-morrow morning, and you are certainly not + going to pay them out of your income. Where is the money coming from?” + </p> + <p> + Albert of Trent seemed suddenly to remember that after all he was of royal + descent. He drew himself up and bore himself, for a moment, as a Prince + should. + </p> + <p> + “Baron de Grost,” he said, “you pass the limits of friendship when you ask + such a question. I take the liberty of wishing you good-night.” + </p> + <p> + He moved towards the door. The Baron, however, was in the way—a + strong, motionless figure, and his tone, when he spoke again, was + convincing. + </p> + <p> + “Prince,” he declared, “I speak in your own interests. You have not chosen + to answer my question. Let me answer it for you. The money to pay your + debts, and I know not how much besides, was to come from the Government of + a country with whom none of your name or nationality should willingly have + dealings.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince started violently. The shock caused him to forget his new-found + dignity. + </p> + <p> + “How, in the devil’s name, do you know that?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I know more,” the Baron continued. “I know the consideration which you + were to give for this money.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Prince began plainly to show the terror which had crept into his + heart—the terror and the shame. He looked at his host like a man + dazed with hearing strange things. + </p> + <p> + “It comes to nothing,” he said, in a hard, unnatural tone. “It is a + foolish bargain, indeed. Between me and the throne are four lives. My + promise is not worth the paper it is written upon. I shall never succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “That, Prince, is probably where you are misinformed,” the Baron replied. + “You are just now in disgrace with your family, and you hear from them + only what the newspapers choose to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Has anything been kept back from me?” the Prince asked. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this first,” De Grost insisted. “Am I not right in assuming that + you have signed a solemn undertaking that, in the event of your succeeding + to the throne of your country, you will use the whole of your influence + towards concluding a treaty with a certain Power, one of the provisions of + which is that that Power shall have free access to any one of your ports + in the event of war with England?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. The Prince clutched the back of the chair + against which he was leaning. + </p> + <p> + “Supposing it were true?” he muttered. “It is, after all, an idle + promise.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron shook his head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Prince,” he said, “it is no such idle promise as it seems. The man who is + seeking to trade upon your poverty knew more than he would tell you. You + may have read in the newspapers that your two cousins are confined to the + palace with slight colds. The truth has been kept quiet, but it is none + the less known to a few of us. The so-called cold is really a virulent + attack of diphtheria, and, according to to-night’s reports, neither Prince + Cyril nor Prince Henry are expected to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this true?” the Prince gasped. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” his host declared. “My information can be relied upon.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince sat down suddenly. He was looking whiter than ever, and very + scared. + </p> + <p> + “Even then,” he murmured, “there is John.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been out of touch with your family for some months,” De Grost + reminded his visitor. “One or two of us, however, know what you, probably, + will soon hear. Prince John has taken the vows and solemnly resigned, + before the Archbishop, his heirship. He will be admitted into the Roman + Catholic Church in a week or two, and will go straight to a monastery.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s likely enough,” the Prince gasped. “He always wanted to be a monk.” + </p> + <p> + “You see now,” the Baron continued, “that your friend’s generosity was not + so wonderful a thing. Count von Hern was watching you to-night at the + Bridge Club. He has gone home; he is waiting now to receive you. Apart + from that, the man Nisch, with whom you have played so much, is a + confederate of his, a political tout, not to say a spy.” + </p> + <p> + “The brute!” Prince Albert muttered. “I am obliged to you, Baron, for + having warned me,” he added, rising slowly to his feet. “I shall sign + nothing. There is another way.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “My young friend,” he said, “there is another way, indeed, but not the way + you have in your mind at this moment. I offer you an alternative. I will + give you notes for the full amount you owe to-night, so that you can, if + you will, go back to the club direct from here and pay everything—on + one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Condition!” + </p> + <p> + “You must promise to put your hand to no document which the Count von Hern + may place before you, and pledge your word that you have no further + dealings with him.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should you do this for me?” the Prince exclaimed. “I do not know + that I shall ever be able to pay you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you succeed to the throne, you will pay me,” the Baron de Grost said. + “If you do not succeed, remember that I am a rich man, and that I shall + miss this money no more than the sixpence which you might throw to a + crossing-sweeper.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince was silent. His host unlocked a small cabinet and took from it + a bundle of notes. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the whole amount you owe,” he insisted, “every penny, mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Sixteen hundred pounds,” was the broken reply. + </p> + <p> + De Grost counted a little roll and laid it upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “There are two thousand pounds,” he said. “Listen, Prince. A name such as + you bear carries with it certain obligations. Remember that, and try and + shape your life accordingly. Take my advice—go back to your own + country and find some useful occupation there, even if you only rejoin + your regiment and wear its uniform. The time may come when your country + will require you, for her work comes sooner or later to every man. You are + leading a rotten life over here, a life which might have led to disaster + and dishonor, a life, as you know, which might have ended in your rooms + to-night with a small bullet hole in your forehead. Brave men do not die + like that. Take up the money, please.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Grost sent a cipher dispatch to Paris that night, and + received an answer which pleased him. + </p> + <p> + “It is a small thing,” he read, “but it is well done. Particulars of a + matter of grave importance will reach you to-morrow.” letter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE AMBASSADOR’S WIFE + </h2> + <p> + Alone in his study, with fast-locked door, Peter, Baron de Grost, sat + reading, word by word, with zealous care the despatch from Paris which had + just been delivered into his hands. From the splendid suite of reception + rooms which occupied the whole of the left-hand side of the hall came the + faint sound of music. The street outside was filled with automobiles and + carriages setting down their guests. Madame was receiving to-night a + gathering of very distinguished men and women, and it was only for a few + moments, and on very urgent business indeed, that her husband had dared to + leave her side. + </p> + <p> + The room in which he sat was in darkness except for the single heavily + shaded electric lamp which stood by his elbow. Nevertheless, there was + sufficient illumination to show that Peter had achieved one, at least, of + his ambitions. He was wearing court dress, with immaculate black silk + stockings and diamond buckles upon his shoes. A red ribbon was in his + buttonhole and a French order hung from his neck. His passion for clothes + was certainly amply ministered to by the exigencies of his new position. + Once more he read those last few words of this unexpectedly received + despatch, read them with a frown upon his forehead and the light of + trouble in his eyes. For three months he had done nothing but live the + life of an ordinary man of fashion and wealth. His first task, for which, + to tell the truth, he had been anxiously waiting, was here before him, and + he found it little to his liking. Again, he read slowly to himself the + last paragraph of Sogrange’s. + </p> + <p> + As ever, dear friend, one of the greatest sayings which the men of my race + have ever perpetrated once more justifies itself—“Cherchez la + femme!” Of Monsieur we have no manner of doubt. We have tested him in + every way. And to all appearance Madame should also be above suspicion. + Yet those things of which I have spoken have happened. For two hours this + morning I was closeted with Picon here. Very reluctantly he has placed the + matter in my hands. I pass it on to you. It is your first undertaking, + cher Baron, and I wish you bon fortune. A man of gallantry, as I know you + are, you may regret that it should be a woman, and a beautiful woman, too, + against whom the finger must be pointed. Yet, after all, the fates are + strong and the task is yours. + </p> + <p> + SOGRANGE. + </p> + <p> + The music from the reception rooms grew louder and more insistent. Peter + rose to his feet, and moving to the fireplace, struck a match and + carefully destroyed the letter which he had been reading. Then he + straightened himself, glanced for a moment at the mirror, and left the + room to join his guests. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron jests,” the lady murmured. + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Grost shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, no, Madame!” he answered earnestly. “France has offered us + nothing more delightful in the whole history of our entente than the loan + of yourself and your brilliant husband. Monsieur de Lamborne makes history + among us politically, while Madame—” + </p> + <p> + The Baron sighed, and his companion leaned a little towards him; her dark + eyes were full of sentimental regard. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” she murmured. “Continue. It is my wish.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the good friend of Monsieur de Lamborne,” the Baron said, and in his + tone there seemed to lurk some far-away touch of regret, “yet Madame knows + that her conquests here have been many.” + </p> + <p> + The Ambassador’s wife fanned herself and remained silent for a moment, a + faint smile playing at the corners of her full, curving lips. She was, + indeed, a very beautiful woman—elegant, a Parisienne to the + finger-tips, with pale cheeks, but eyes dark and soft, eyes trained to her + service, whose flash was an inspiration, whose very droop had set beating + the hearts of men less susceptible than the Baron de Grost. Her gown was + magnificent, of amber satin, a color daring, but splendid; the outline of + her figure, as she leaned slightly back in her seat, might indeed have + been traced by the inspired finger of some great sculptor. De Grost, whose + reputation as a man of gallantry was well established, felt the whole + charm of her presence—felt, too, the subtle indications of + preference which she seemed inclined to accord to him. There was nothing + which eyes could say which hers were not saying during those few minutes. + The Baron, indeed, glanced around a little nervously. His wife had still + her moments of unreasonableness; it was just as well that she was engaged + with some of her guests at the farther end of the apartments. + </p> + <p> + “You are trying to turn my head,” his beautiful companion whispered. “You + flatter me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not possible,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Again the fan fluttered for a moment before her face. She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah. Monsieur!” she continued, dropping her voice until it scarcely rose + above a whisper, “there are not many men like you. You speak of my husband + and his political gifts. Yet what, after all, do they amount to? What is + his position, indeed, if one glanced behind the scenes, compared with + yours?” + </p> + <p> + The face of the Baron de Grost became like a mask. It was as though + suddenly he had felt the thrill of danger close at hand, danger even in + that scented atmosphere wherein he sat. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, Madame!” he answered, “it is you, now, who are pleased to jest. + Your husband is a great and powerful ambassador. I, unfortunately, have no + career, no place in life save the place which the possession of a few + millions gives to a successful financier.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed very softly, and again her eyes spoke to him. “Monsieur,” she + murmured, “you and I together could make a great alliance, is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he faltered, doubtfully, “if one dared hope—” + </p> + <p> + Once more the fire of her eyes, this time not only voluptuous. Was the man + stupid, she wondered, or only cautious? + </p> + <p> + “If that alliance were once concluded,” she said, softly, “one might hope + for everything.” + </p> + <p> + “If it rests only with me,” he began, seriously, “oh, Madame!” + </p> + <p> + He seemed overcome. Madame was gracious, but was he really stupid or only + very much in earnest? + </p> + <p> + “To be one of the world’s money kings,” she whispered, “it is wonderful—that. + It is power—supreme, absolute power. There is nothing beyond, there + is nothing greater.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Baron, who was watching her closely, caught another gleam in her + eyes, and he began to understand. He had seen it before among a certain + type of her countrywomen—the greed of money. He looked at her jewels + and he remembered that, for an ambassador, her husband was reputed to be a + poor man. The cloud of misgiving passed away from him; he settled down to + the game. + </p> + <p> + “If money could only buy the desire of one’s heart,” he murmured. “Alas!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes seemed to seek out Monsieur de Lamborne among the moving throngs. + She laughed softly, and her hand brushed his. + </p> + <p> + “Money and one other thing, Monsieur le Baron,” she whispered in his ear, + “can buy the jewels from a crown—can buy, even, the heart of a woman—” + </p> + <p> + A movement of approaching guests caught them up, and parted them for a + time. The Baroness de Grost was at home from ten till one, and her rooms + were crowded. The Baron found himself drawn on one side, a few minutes + later, by Monsieur de Lamborne himself. + </p> + <p> + “I have been looking for you, De Grost,” the latter declared. “Where can + we talk for a moment?” + </p> + <p> + His host took the ambassador by the arm and led him into a retired corner. + Monsieur de Lamborne was a tall, slight man, somewhat cadaverous looking, + with large features, hollow eyes, thin but carefully arranged gray hair, + and a pointed gray beard. He wore a frilled shirt, and an eye-glass + suspended by a broad black ribbon hung down upon his chest. His face, as a + rule, was imperturbable enough, but he had the air, just now, of a man + greatly disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot be overheard here,” De Grost remarked. “It must be an affair of + a few words only, though.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Lamborne wasted no time in preliminaries. “This afternoon,” he + said, “I received from my Government papers of immense importance, which I + am to hand over to your Foreign Minister at eleven o’clock to-morrow + morning.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + De Lamborne’s thin fingers trembled as they played nervously with the + ribbon of his eye-glass. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he continued, dropping his voice a little. “Bernadine has + undertaken to send a copy of their contents to Berlin by to-morrow night’s + mail.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + The ambassador hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “We, too, have spies at work,” he remarked, grimly. “Bernadine wrote and + sent a messenger with the letter to Berlin. The man’s body is drifting + down the Channel, but the letter is in my pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “The letter from Bernadine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply that a verbatim copy of the document in question will be + despatched to Berlin to-morrow evening, without fail.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no secrets between us,” De Grost declared, smoothly. “What is + the special importance of this document?” + </p> + <p> + De Lamborne shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Since you ask,” he said, “I will tell you. You know of the slight + coolness which there has been between our respective Governments. Our + people have felt that the policy of your ministers in expending all their + energies and resources in the building of a great fleet to the utter + neglect of your army is a wholly one-sided arrangement, so far as we are + concerned. In the event of a simultaneous attack by Germany upon France + and England, you would be utterly powerless to render us any measure of + assistance. If Germany should attack England alone, it is the wish of your + Government that we should be pledged to occupy Alsace-Lorraine. You, on + the other hand, could do nothing for us, if Germany’s first move were made + against France.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron was deeply interested, although the matter was no new one to + him. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he directed. “I am waiting for you to tell me the specific + contents of this document.” + </p> + <p> + “The English Government has asked us two questions: first, how many + complete army corps we consider she ought to place at our disposal in this + eventuality; and, secondly, at what point should we expect them to be + concentrated. The despatch which I received to-night contains the reply to + these questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Which Bernadine has promised to forward to Berlin to-morrow night,” the + Baron remarked, softly. + </p> + <p> + De Lamborne nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You perceive,” he said, “the immense importance of the affair. The very + existence of that document is almost a casus belli.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time did the despatch arrive,” the Baron asked, “and what has + been its history since?” + </p> + <p> + “It arrived at six o’clock, and went straight into the inner pocket of my + coat; it has not been out of my possession for a single second. Even while + I talk to you I can feel it.” + </p> + <p> + “And your plans? How are you intending to dispose of it to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “On my return to the Embassy I shall place it in the safe, lock it up, and + remain watching it until morning.” + </p> + <p> + “There doesn’t seem to be much chance for Bernadine,” the Baron remarked, + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “But there must be no chance—no chance at all,” Monsieur de Lamborne + asserted, with a note of passion in his thin voice. “It is incredible, + preposterous, that he should even make the attempt. I want you to come + home with me and share my vigil. You shall be my witness in case anything + happens. We will watch together.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost reflected for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Bernadine makes few mistakes,” he said, thoughtfully. Monsieur de + Lamborne passed his hand across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Do I not know it?” he muttered. “In this instance, though, it seems + impossible for him to succeed. The time is so short and the conditions so + difficult. I may count upon your assistance, Baron?” + </p> + <p> + The Baron drew from his pocket a crumpled piece of paper. + </p> + <p> + “I received a telegram from headquarters this after noon,” he said, “with + instructions to place myself entirely at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “You will return with me, then, to the Embassy?” Monsieur de Lamborne + asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Grost did not at once reply. He was standing in one of his + characteristic attitudes, his hands clasped behind him, his head a little + thrust forward, watching with every appearance of courteous interest the + roomful of guests, stationary just now, listening to the performance of a + famous violinist. It was, perhaps, by accident that his eyes met those of + Madame de Lamborne, but she smiled at him subtly, more, perhaps, with her + wonderful eyes than her lips themselves. She was the centre of a very + brilliant group, a most beautiful woman holding court, as was only right + and proper, among her admirers. The Baron sighed. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I shall not return with you, De Lamborne. I want you to + follow my suggestions, if you will.” + </p> + <p> + “But, assuredly!” + </p> + <p> + “Leave here early and go to your club. Remain there until one, then come + to the Embassy. I shall be there awaiting your arrival.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you will go there alone? I do not understand,” the + ambassador protested. “Why should I go to my club? I do not at all + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, do as I say,” De Grost insisted. “For the present, excuse + me. I must look after my guests.” + </p> + <p> + The music had ceased, there was a movement toward the supper-room. The + Baron offered his arm to Madame de Lamborne, who welcomed him with a + brilliant smile. Her husband, although, for a Frenchman, he was by no + means of a jealous disposition, was conscious of a vague feeling of + uneasiness as he watched them pass out of the room together. A few minutes + later he made his excuses to his wife and with a reluctance for which he + could scarcely account left the house. There was something in the air, he + felt, which he did not understand. He would not have admitted it to + himself, but he more than half divined the truth. The vacant seat in his + wife’s carriage was filled that night by the Baron de Grost. + </p> + <p> + At one o’clock precisely Monsieur de Lamborne returned to his house and + heard with well-simulated interest that Monsieur le Baron de Grost awaited + his arrival in the library. He found De Grost gazing with obvious respect + at the ponderous safe let into the wall. + </p> + <p> + “A very fine affair—this,” he remarked, motioning with his head + toward it. + </p> + <p> + “The best of its kind,” Monsieur de Lamborne admitted. “No burglar yet has + ever succeeded in opening one of its type. Here is the packet,” he added, + drawing the document from his pocket. “You shall see me place it in safety + myself.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron stretched out his hand and examined the sealed envelope for a + moment closely. Then he moved to the writing-table, and, placing it upon + the letter scales, made a note of its exact weight. Finally, he watched it + deposited in the ponderous safe, suggested the word to which the lock was + set, and closed the door. Monsieur de Lamborne heaved a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy this time,” he said, “that our friends at Berlin will be + disappointed. Couch or easy-chair, Baron?” + </p> + <p> + “The couch, if you please,” De Grost replied, “a strong cigar, and a long + whiskey and soda. So! Now, for our vigil.” + </p> + <p> + The hours crawled away. Once De Grost sat up and listened. + </p> + <p> + “Any rats about?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + The ambassador was indignant. + </p> + <p> + “I have never heard one in my life,” he answered. “This is quite a modern + house.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost dropped his match-box and stooped to pick it up. + </p> + <p> + “Any lights on anywhere, except in this room?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” Monsieur de Lamborne answered. “It is past three o’clock, + and every one has gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron rose and softly unbolted the door. The passage outside was in + darkness. He listened intently, for a moment, and returned, yawning. + </p> + <p> + “One fancies things,” he murmured, apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “For example?” De Lamborne demanded. + </p> + <p> + The Baron shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “One mistakes,” he declared. “The nerves become over sensitive.” + </p> + <p> + The dawn broke and the awakening hum of the city grew louder and louder. + De Grost rose and stretched himself. + </p> + <p> + “Your servants are moving about in the house,” he remarked. “I think that + we might consider our vigil at an end.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Lamborne rose with alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he said, “I feel that I have made false pretenses to you. + With the day I have no fear. A thousand pardons for your sleepless night.” + </p> + <p> + “My sleepless night counts for nothing,” the Baron assured him, “but, + before I go, would it not be as well that we glance together inside the + safe?” + </p> + <p> + De Lamborne shook out his keys. + </p> + <p> + “I was about to suggest it,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The ambassador arranged the combination and pressed the lever. Slowly the + great door swung back. The two men peered in. + </p> + <p> + “Untouched!” De Lamborne exclaimed, a little note of triumph in his tone. + </p> + <p> + De Grost said nothing, but held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me,” he interposed. + </p> + <p> + De Lamborne was conscious of a faint sense of uneasiness. His companion + walked across the room and carefully weighed the packet. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” De Lamborne cried. “Why do you do that? What is wrong?” + </p> + <p> + The Baron turned and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he said, “this is not the same packet.” The ambassador stared + at him incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “You are jesting!” he exclaimed. “Miracles do not happen. The thing is + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the impossible, then, which has happened,” De Grost replied, + swiftly. “This packet can scarcely have gained two ounces in the night. + Besides, the seal is fuller. I have an eye for these details.” + </p> + <p> + De Lamborne leaned against the back of the table. His eyes were a little + wild, but he laughed hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “We fight, then, against the creatures of another world,” he declared. “No + human being could have opened that safe last night.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lamborne,” he said, “the room adjoining is your wife’s.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the salon of Madame,” the ambassador admitted. + </p> + <p> + “What are the electrical appliances doing there?” the Baron demanded. + “Don’t look at me like that, De Lamborne. Remember that I was here before + you arrived.” + </p> + <p> + “My wife takes an electric massage every day,” Monsieur de Lamborne + answered, in a hard, unnatural voice. “In what way is Monsieur le Baron + concerned in my wife’s doings?” + </p> + <p> + “I think that there need be no answer to that question,” De Grost said, + quietly. “It is a greater tragedy which we have to face.” + </p> + <p> + Quick as lightning, the Frenchman’s hand shot out. De Grost barely avoided + the blow. + </p> + <p> + “You shall answer to me for this, sir,” De Lamborne cried. “It is the + honor of my wife which you assail.” + </p> + <p> + “I maintain only,” the Baron answered, “that your safe was entered from + that room. A search will prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no search there,” De Lamborne declared, fiercely. “I am the + Ambassador of France, and my power under this roof is absolute. I say that + you shall not cross that threshold.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost’s expression did not change. Only his hands were suddenly + outstretched with a curious gesture—the four fingers were raised, + the thumbs depressed. Monsieur De Lamborne collapsed. + </p> + <p> + “I submit,” he muttered. “It is you who are the master. Search where you + will.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur has arrived?” the woman demanded, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor of the restaurant himself bowed a reply. His client was + evidently well-known to him. He answered her in French—French, with + a very guttural accent. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur has ascended some few minutes ago. Myself, I have not had the + pleasure of wishing him bon aperitif, but Fritz announced his coming.” + </p> + <p> + The woman drew a little sigh of relief. A vague misgiving had troubled her + during the last few hours. She raised her veil as she mounted the narrow + staircase which led to the one private room at the Hotel de Lorraine. She + entered, without tapping, the room at the head of the stairs, pushing open + the ill-varnished door with its white-curtained top. At first she thought + that the little apartment was empty. + </p> + <p> + “Are you there?” she exclaimed, advancing a few steps. + </p> + <p> + The figure of a man glided from behind the worn screen close by her side, + and stood between her and the door. + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” De Grost said, bowing low. + </p> + <p> + Even then she scarcely realized that she was trapped. “You?” she cried. + “You, Baron? But I do not understand. You have followed me here?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, Madame,” he answered. “I have preceded you.” + </p> + <p> + Her colossal vanity triumphed over her natural astuteness. The man had + employed spies to watch her! He had lost his head. It was an awkward + matter, this, but it was to be arranged. She held out her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, “let me beg you now to go away. If you care to, come + and see me this evening. I will explain everything. It is a little family + affair which brings me here.” + </p> + <p> + “A family affair, Madame, with Bernadine, the enemy of France,” De Grost + declared, gravely. + </p> + <p> + She collapsed miserably, her fingers grasping at the air, the cry which + broke from her lips harsh and unnatural. Before he could tell what was + happening, she was on her knees before him. + </p> + <p> + “Spare me,” she begged, trying to seize his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” De Grost answered, “I am not your judge. You will kindly hand + over to me the document which you are carrying.” + </p> + <p> + She took it from the bosom of her dress. De Grost glanced at it, and + placed it in his breast-pocket. + </p> + <p> + “And now?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + De Grost sighed—she was a very beautiful woman. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, “the career of a spy is, as you have doubtless + sometimes realized, a dangerous one.” + </p> + <p> + “It is finished,” she assured him, breathlessly. “Monsieur le Baron, you + will keep my secret? Never again, I swear it, will I sin like this. You, + yourself, shall be the trustee of my honor.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes and arms besought him, but it was surely a changed man—this. + There was none of the suaveness, the delicate responsiveness of her late + host at Porchester House. The man who faced her now possessed the features + of a sphinx. There was not even pity in his face. + </p> + <p> + “You will not tell my husband?” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband already knows, Madame,” was the quiet reply. “Only a few + hours ago I proved to him whence had come the leakage of so many of our + secrets lately.” + </p> + <p> + She swayed upon her feet. + </p> + <p> + “He will never forgive me,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “There are others,” De Grost declared, “who forgive more rarely, even, + than husbands.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden illuminating flash of horror told her the truth. She closed her + eyes and tried to run from the room. + </p> + <p> + “I will not be told,” she screamed. “I will not hear. I do not know who + you are. I will live a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” De Grost said, “the Double-Four wages no war with women, save + with spies only. The spy has no sex. For the sake of your family, permit + me to send you back to your husband’s house.” + </p> + <p> + That night, two receptions and a dinner party were postponed. All London + was sympathizing with Monsieur de Lamborne, and a great many women swore + never again to take a sleeping draught. Madame de Lamborne lay dead behind + the shelter of those drawn blinds, and by her side an empty phial. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE MAN PROM THE OLD TESTAMENT + </h2> + <p> + Bernadine, sometimes called the Count von Hern, was lunching at the Savoy + with the pretty wife of a Cabinet Minister, who was just sufficiently + conscious of the impropriety of her action to render the situation + interesting. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would tell me, Count von Hern,” she said, soon after they had + settled down in their places, “why my husband seems to object to you so + much. I simply dared not tell him that we were going to lunch together, + and as a rule he doesn’t mind what I do in that way.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine smiled slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well,” he remarked, “your husband is a politician and a very cautious + man. I dare say he is like some of those others, who believe that, because + I am a foreigner and live in London, therefore I am a spy.” + </p> + <p> + “You a spy,” she laughed. “What nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Why nonsense?” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. She was certainly a very pretty woman, and her + black gown set off to fullest advantage her deep red hair and fair + complexion. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose because I can’t imagine you anything of the sort,” she + declared. “You see, you hunt and play polo, and do everything which the + ordinary Englishmen do. Then one meets you everywhere. I think, Count von + Hern, that you are much too spoilt, for one thing, to take life + seriously.” + </p> + <p> + “You do me an injustice,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she chattered on, “I don’t really know what spies do. One + reads about them in these silly stories, but I have never felt sure that + as live people they exist at all. Tell me, Count, what could a foreign spy + do in England?” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine twirled his fair moustache and shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my dear lady,” he admitted, “I scarcely know what a spy could do + nowadays. A few years ago, you English people were all so trusting. Your + fortifications, your battleships, not to speak of your country itself, + were wholly at the disposal of the enterprising foreigner who desired to + acquire information. The party who governed Great Britain then seemed to + have some strange idea that these things made for peace. To-day, however, + all that is changed.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know something about it,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that mine is really only the superficial point of view,” he + answered, “but I do know that there is a good deal of information, which + seems absolutely insignificant in itself, for which some foreign countries + are willing to pay. For instance, there was a Cabinet Council yesterday, I + believe, and some one was going to suggest that a secret, but official, + visit be paid to your new harbor works up at Rosyth. An announcement will + probably be made in the papers during the next few days as to whether the + visit is to be undertaken or not. Yet there are countries who are willing + to pay for knowing even such an insignificant item of news as that, a few + hours before the rest of the world.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Maxwell laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I could earn that little sum of money,” she declared gayly, “for my + husband has just made me cancel a dinner-party for next Thursday, because + he has to go up to the stupid place.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine smiled. It was really a very unimportant matter, but he loved to + feel, even in his idle moments, that he was not altogether wasting his + time. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said, “that I am not myself acquainted with one of these + mythical personages that I might return you the value of your marvelous + information. If I dared think, however, that it would be in any way + acceptable, I could offer you the diversion of a restaurant dinner-party + for that night. The Duchess of Castleford has kindly offered to act as + hostess for me and we are all going on to the Gaiety afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Delightful!” Lady Maxwell exclaimed. “I should love to come.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine bowed. + </p> + <p> + “You have, then, dear lady, fulfilled your destiny,” he said. “You have + given secret information to a foreign person of mysterious identity, and + accepted payment.” + </p> + <p> + Now, Bernadine was a man of easy manners and unruffled composure. To the + natural insouciance of his aristocratic bringing up, he had added the + steely reserve of a man moving in the large world, engaged more often than + not in some hazardous enterprise. Yet, for once in his life, and in the + midst of the idlest of conversations, he gave himself away so utterly that + even this woman with whom he was lunching—a very butterfly lady, + indeed could not fail to perceive it. She looked at him in something like + astonishment. Without the slightest warning his face had become set in a + rigid stare, his eyes were filled with the expression of a man who sees + into another world. The healthy color faded from his cheeks, he was white + even to the parted lips, the wine dripped from his raised glass onto the + tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + “Why, whatever is the matter with you?” she demanded. “Is it a ghost that + you see?” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine’s effort was superb, but he was too clever to deny the shock. + </p> + <p> + “A ghost, indeed,” he answered, “the ghost of a man whom every newspaper + in Europe has declared to be dead.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes followed his. The two people who were being ushered to a seat in + their immediate vicinity were certainly of somewhat unusual appearance. + The man was tall, and thin as a lath, and he wore the clothes of the + fashionable world without awkwardness, yet with the air of one who was + wholly unaccustomed to them. His cheek-bones were remarkably high, and + receded so quickly towards his pointed chin that his cheeks were little + more than hollows. His eyes were dry and burning, flashing here and there + as though the man himself were continually oppressed by some furtive fear. + His thick black hair was short cropped, his forehead high and + intellectual. He was a strange figure, indeed, in such a gathering, and + his companion only served to accentuate the anachronisms of his + appearance. She was, above all things, a woman of the moment—fair, + almost florid, a little thick-set, with tightly-laced, yet passable + figure. Her eyes were blue, her hair light-colored. She wore magnificent + furs, and, as she threw aside her boa, she disclosed a mass of jewelry + around her neck and upon her bosom, almost barbaric in its profusion and + setting. + </p> + <p> + “What an extraordinary couple!” Lady Maxwell whispered. + </p> + <p> + Bernadine smiled. + </p> + <p> + “The man looks as though he had stepped out of the Old Testament,” he + murmured. + </p> + <p> + Lady Maxwell’s interest was purely feminine, and was riveted now upon the + jewelry worn by the woman. Bernadine, under the mask of his habitual + indifference, which had easily reassumed, seemed to be looking away out of + the restaurant into the great square of a half-savage city, looking at + that marvelous crowd, numbered by their thousands, even by their hundreds + of thousands, of men and women whose arms flashed out toward the snow-hung + heavens, whose lips were parted in one chorus of rapturous acclamation; + looking beyond them to the tall, emaciated form of the bare-headed priest + in his long robes, his wind-tossed hair and wild eyes, standing alone + before that multitude, in danger of death, or worse, at any moment—their + idol, their hero. And again, as the memories came flooding into his brain, + the scene passed away, and he saw the bare room with its whitewashed walls + and blocked-up windows; he felt the darkness, lit only by those flickering + candles. He saw the white, passion-wrung faces of the men who clustered + together around the rude table, waiting; he heard their murmurs, he saw + the fear born in their eyes. It was the night when their leader did not + come. + </p> + <p> + Bernadine poured himself out a glass of wine and drank it slowly. The + mists were clearing away now. He was in London, at the Savoy Restaurant, + and within a few yards of him sat the man with whose name all Europe once + had rung—the man hailed by some as martyr, and loathed by others as + the most fiendish Judas who ever drew breath. Bernadine was not concerned + with the moral side of this strange encounter. How best to use his + knowledge of this man’s identity was the question which beat upon his + brain. What use could be made of him, what profit for his country and + himself? And then a fear—a sudden, startling fear. Little profit, + perhaps, to be made, but the danger—the danger of this man alive + with such secrets locked in his bosom! The thought itself was terrifying, + and even as he realized it a significant thing happened—he caught + the eye of the Baron de Grost, lunching alone at a small table just inside + the restaurant. + </p> + <p> + “You are not at all amusing,” his guest declared. “It is nearly five + minutes since you have spoken.” + </p> + <p> + “You, too, have been absorbed,” he reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “It is that woman’s jewels,” she admitted. “I never saw anything more + wonderful. The people are not English, of course. I wonder where they come + from.” + </p> + <p> + “One of the Eastern countries, without a doubt,” he replied, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Maxwell sighed. + </p> + <p> + “He is a peculiar-looking man,” she said, “but one could put up with a + good deal for jewels like that. What are you doing this afternoon—picture-galleries + or your club?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither, unfortunately,” Bernadine answered. “I have promised to go with + a friend to look at some polo ponies.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” she remarked, “that we have never been to see those + Japanese prints yet?” + </p> + <p> + “The gallery is closed until Monday,” he assured her, falsely. “If you + will honor me then, I shall be delighted.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders but said nothing. She had an idea that she was + being dismissed, but Bernadine, without the least appearance of hurry, + gave her no opportunity for any further suggestions. He handed her into + the automobile, and returned at once into the restaurant. He touched Baron + de Grost upon the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, the enemy!” he exclaimed, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “At your service in either capacity,” the Baron replied. Bernadine made a + grimace and accepted the chair which De Grost had indicated. + </p> + <p> + “If I may, I will take my coffee with you,” he said. “I am growing old. It + does not amuse me so much to lunch with a pretty woman. One has to + entertain, and one forgets the serious business of lunching. I will take + my coffee and cigarettes in peace.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost gave an order to the waiter and leaned back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he suggested, “tell me exactly what it is that has brought you back + into the restaurant?” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Why not the pleasure of this few minutes’ conversation with you?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + The Baron carefully selected a cigar, and lit it. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “goes well, but there are other things.” + </p> + <p> + “As, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + De Grost leaned back in his chair, and watched the smoke of his cigar curl + upwards. + </p> + <p> + “One talks too much,” he remarked. “Before the cards are upon the table, + it is not wise.” + </p> + <p> + They chatted upon various matters. De Grost himself seemed in no hurry to + depart, nor did his companion show any signs of impatience. It was not + until the two people whose entrance had had such a remarkable effect upon + Bernadine, rose to leave, that the mask was, for a moment, lifted. De + Grost had called for his bill and paid it. The two men strolled out + together. + </p> + <p> + “Baron,” Bernadine said, suavely, linking his arm through the other man’s + as they passed into the foyer, “there are times when candor even among + enemies becomes an admirable quality.” + </p> + <p> + “Those times, I imagine,” De Grost answered, grimly, “are rare. Besides, + who is to tell the real thing from the false?” + </p> + <p> + “You do less than justice to your perceptions, my friend,” Bernadine + declared, smiling. + </p> + <p> + De Grost merely shrugged his shoulders. Bernadine persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he continued, “since you doubt me, let me be the first to give you + a proof that on this occasion, at any rate, I am candor itself. You had a + purpose in lunching at the Savoy to-day. That purpose I have discovered by + accident. We are both interested in those people.” The Baron de Grost + shook his head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” he began— + </p> + <p> + “Let me finish,” Bernadine insisted. “Perhaps when you have heard all that + I have to say, you may change your attitude. We are interested in the same + people, but in different ways. If we both move from opposite directions, + our friend will vanish—he is clever enough at disappearing, as he + has proved before. We do not want the same thing from him, I am convinced + of that. Let us move together and made sure that he does not evade us.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it an alliance which you are proposing?” De Grost asked, with a quiet + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Enemies have united before to-day against a common foe.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost looked across the palm court to where the two people who formed + the subject of their discussion were sitting in a corner, both smoking, + both sipping some red-colored liqueur. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Bernadine,” he said, “I am much too afraid of you to listen any + more. You fancy because this man’s presence here was an entire surprise to + you, and because you find me already on his track, that I know more than + you do and that an alliance with me would be to your advantage. You would + try to persuade me that your object with him would not be my object. + Listen. I am afraid of you—you are too clever for me. I am going to + leave you in sole possession.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost’s tone was final and his bow valedictory. Bernadine watched him + stroll in a leisurely way through the foyer, exchanging greetings here and + there with friends, watched him enter the cloakroom, from which he emerged + with his hat and overcoat, watched him step into his automobile and leave + the restaurant. He turned back with a clouded face, and threw himself into + an easy chair. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes passed uneventfully. People were passing backwards and + forwards all the time, but Bernadine, through his half-closed eyes, did + little save watch the couple in whom he was so deeply interested. At last + the man rose, and, with a word of farewell to his companion, came out from + the lounge, and made his way up the foyer, turning toward the hotel. He + walked with quick, nervous strides, glancing now and then restlessly about + him. In his eyes, to those who understood, there was the furtive gleam of + the hunted man. It was the passing of one who was afraid. + </p> + <p> + The woman, left to herself, began to look around her with some curiosity. + Bernadine, to whom a new idea had occurred, moved his chair nearer to + hers, and was rewarded by a glance which certainly betrayed some interest. + A swift and unerring judge in such matters, he came to the instant + conclusion that she was not unapproachable. He acted immediately and upon + impulse. Rising to his feet, he approached her, and bowed easily but + respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, “it is impossible that I am mistaken. I have had the + pleasure, have I not, of meeting you in St. Petersburg?” + </p> + <p> + Her first reception of his coming was reassuring enough. At his mention of + St. Petersburg, however, she frowned. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think so,” she answered, in French. “You are mistaken. I do not + know St. Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was in Paris,” Bernadine continued, with conviction. “Madame is + Parisian, without a doubt.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think that I remember meeting you, Monsieur,” she replied, + doubtfully, “but perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + She looked up, and her eyes dropped before his. He was certainly a very + personable looking man, and she had spoken to no one for so many months. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, Madame, I could not possibly be mistaken,” Bernadine assured + her, smoothly. “You are staying here for long?” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows!” she declared. “My husband he has, I think, what you call + the wander fever. For myself, I am tired of it. In Rome we settle down, we + stay five days, all seems pleasant, and suddenly my husband’s whim carries + us away without an hour’s notice. The same thing at Monte Carlo, the same + in Paris. Who can tell what will happen here? To tell you the truth, + Monsieur,” she added, a little archly, “I think that if he were to come + back at this moment, we should probably leave England to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband is very jealous?” Bernadine whispered, softly. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Partly jealous, and partly, he has the most terrible distaste for + acquaintances. He will not speak to strangers himself, or suffer me to do + so. It is sometimes—oh! it is sometimes very triste.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame has my sympathy,” Bernadine assured her. “It is an impossible life—this. + No husband should be so exacting.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with her round, blue eyes, a touch of added color in her + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “If one could but cure him!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I would ask your permission to sit down,” Bernadine remarked, “but I fear + to intrude. You are afraid, perhaps, that your husband may return.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It will be better that you do not stay,” she declared. “For a moment or + two he is engaged. He has an appointment in his room with a gentleman, but + one never knows how long he may be.” + </p> + <p> + “You have friends in London, then,” Bernadine remarked, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Of my husband’s affairs,” the woman said, “there is no one so ignorant as + I. Yet since we left our own country, this is the first time I have known + him willingly speak to a soul.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own country,” Bernadine repeated, softly. “That was Russia, of + course. Your husband’s nationality is very apparent.” + </p> + <p> + The woman looked a little annoyed with herself. She remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “May I not hope,” Bernadine begged, “that you will give me the pleasure of + meeting you again?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “He does not leave me,” she replied. “I am not alone for five minutes + during the day.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine scribbled the name by which he was known in that locality, on a + card, and passed it to her. + </p> + <p> + “I have rooms in St. James’s Street, quite close to here,” he said. “If + you could come and have tea with me to-day or to-morrow, it would give me + the utmost pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + She took the card, and crumpled it in her hand. All the time, though, she + shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is very kind,” she answered. “I am afraid—I do not think + that it would be possible. And now, if you please, you must go away. I am + terrified lest my husband should return.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine bent low in a parting salute. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he pleaded, “you will come?” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine was a handsome man, and he knew well enough how to use his soft + and extraordinarily musical voice. He knew very well, as he retired, that + somehow or other she would accept his invitation. Even then, he felt + dissatisfied and ill at ease, as he left the place. He had made a little + progress, but, after all, was it worth while? Supposing that the man with + whom her husband was even at this moment closeted, was the Baron de Grost! + He called a taxicab and drove at once to the Embassy of his country. + </p> + <p> + Even at that moment, De Grost and the Russian—Paul Hagon he called + himself—were standing face to face in the latter’s sitting-room. No + conventional greetings of any sort had been exchanged. De Grost had + scarcely closed the door behind him before Hagon addressed him + breathlessly, almost fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, sir,” he demanded, “and what do you want with me?” + </p> + <p> + “You had my letter?” De Grost inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I had your letter,” the other admitted. “It told me nothing. You speak of + business. What business have I with any here?” + </p> + <p> + “My business is soon told,” De Grost replied, “but in the first place, I + beg that you will not unnecessarily alarm yourself. There is, believe me, + no need for it, no need whatever, although, to prevent misunderstandings, + I may as well tell you at once that I am perfectly well aware who it is + that I am addressing.” + </p> + <p> + Hagon collapsed into a chair. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. + </p> + <p> + “I am not here necessarily as an enemy,” De Grost continued. “You have + very excellent reasons, I make no doubt, for remaining unknown in this + city, or wherever you may be. As yet, let me assure you that your identity + is not even suspected, except by myself and one other. Those few who + believe you alive, believe that you are in America. There is no need for + any one to know that Father—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” the man begged, piteously. “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + De Grost bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me,” the man demanded, “what is your price? I have had money. + There is not much left. Sophia is extravagant and traveling costs a great + deal. But why do I weary you with these things?” he added. “Let me know + what I have to pay for your silence.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a blackmailer,” De Grost answered, sternly. “I am myself a + wealthy man. I ask from you nothing in money—I ask you nothing in + that way at all. A few words of information, and a certain paper, which I + believe you have in your possession, is all that I require.” + </p> + <p> + “Information,” Hagon repeated, shivering. + </p> + <p> + “What I ask,” De Grost declared, “is really a matter of justice. At the + time when you were the idol of all Russia and the leader of the great + revolutionary party, you received funds from abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “I accounted for them,” Hagon muttered. “Up to a certain point I accounted + for everything.” + </p> + <p> + “You received funds from the Government of a European power,” De Grost + continued, “funds to be applied towards developing the revolution. I want + the name of that Power, and proof of what I say.” + </p> + <p> + Hagon remained motionless for a moment. He had seated himself at the + table, his head resting upon his hand and his face turned away from De + Grost. + </p> + <p> + “You are a politician, then?” he asked, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I am a politician,” De Grost admitted. “I represent a great secret power + which has sprung into existence during the last few years. Our aim, at + present, is to bring closer together your country and Great Britain. + Russia hesitates because an actual rapprochement with us is equivalent to + a permanent estrangement with Germany.” + </p> + <p> + Hagon nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he said, in a low tone. “I have finished with politics. I + have nothing to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” De Grost persisted, suavely, “that you will be better advised.” + </p> + <p> + Hagon turned round and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he demanded, “do you believe that I am afraid of death?” + </p> + <p> + De Grost looked at him steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, “you have proved the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “If my identity is discovered,” Hagon continued, “I have the means of + instant death at hand. I do not use it because of my love for the one + person who links me to this world. For her sake I live, and for her sake I + bear always the memory of the shameful past. Publish my name and + whereabouts, if you will. I promise you that I will make the tragedy + complete. But for the rest, I refuse to pay your price. A great power + trusted me, and whatever its motives may have been, its money came very + near indeed to freeing my people. I have nothing more to say to you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Grost was taken aback. He had scarcely contemplated refusal. + </p> + <p> + “You must understand,” he explained, “that this is not a personal matter. + Even if I myself would spare you, those who are more powerful than I will + strike. The society to which I belong does not tolerate failure. I am + empowered even to offer you its protection, if you will give me the + information for which I ask.” + </p> + <p> + Hagon rose to his feet, and, before De Grost could foresee his purpose, + had rung the bell. + </p> + <p> + “My decision is unchanging,” he said. “You can pull down the roof upon my + head, but I carry next my heart an instant and unfailing means of escape.” + </p> + <p> + A waiter stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “You will take this gentleman to the lift,” Hagon directed. + </p> + <p> + There was once more a touch in his manner of that half divine authority + which had thrilled the great multitude of his believers. De Grost was + forced to admit defeat. + </p> + <p> + “Not defeat,” he said to himself, as he followed the man to the lift, + “only a check.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, it was a serious check. He could not, for the moment, see + his way further. Arrived at his house, he followed his usual custom and + made his way at once to his wife’s rooms. Violet was resting upon a sofa, + but laid down her book at his entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he declared, “I have come for your advice.” + </p> + <p> + “He refuses, then?” she asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely. What am I to do? Bernadine is already upon the scent. He saw + him at the Savoy to-day, and recognized him.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Bernadine approached him yet?” Violet inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. He is half afraid to move. I think he realizes, or will very + soon, how serious this man’s existence may be for Germany.” + </p> + <p> + Violet was thoughtful for several moments, then she looked up quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Bernadine will try the woman,” she asserted. “You say that Hagon is + infatuated?” + </p> + <p> + “Blindly,” De Grost replied. “He scarcely lets her out of his sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Your people watch Bernadine?” + </p> + <p> + “Always.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” Violet went on, “you will find that he will attempt an + intrigue with the woman. The rest should be easy for you.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost sighed as he bent over his wife. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, “there is no subtlety like the subtlety of a woman.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine’s instinct had not deceived him, and the following afternoon his + servant, who had already received orders, silently ushered Madame Hagon + into his apartments. She was wrapped in magnificent sables and heavily + veiled. Bernadine saw at once that she was very nervous and wholly + terrified. He welcomed her in as matter-of-fact a manner as possible. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he declared, “this is quite charming of you. You must sit in my + easy-chair here, and my man shall bring us some tea. I drink mine always + after the fashion of your country, with lemon, but I doubt whether we make + it so well. Won’t you unfasten your jacket? I am afraid that my rooms are + rather warm.” + </p> + <p> + Madame had collected herself, but it was quite obvious that she was unused + to adventures of this sort. Her hand, when he took it, trembled, and more + than once she glanced furtively toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have come,” she murmured. “I do not know why. It is not right for + me to come. Yet there are times when I am weary, times when Paul seems + fierce and when I am terrified. Sometimes I even wish that I were back—” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband seems very highly strung,” Bernadine remarked. “He has + doubtless led an exciting life.” + </p> + <p> + “As to that,” she replied, gazing around her now and gradually becoming + more at her ease, “I know but little. He was a student professor at + Moschaume, when I met him. I think that he was at one of the universities + in St. Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine glanced at her covertly. It came to him as an inspiration that + the woman did not know the truth. + </p> + <p> + “You are from Russia, then, after all,” he said, smiling. “I felt sure of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” reluctantly. “Paul is so queer in these things. He will not let me + talk of it. He prefers that we are taken for French people. Indeed, it is + not I who desire to think too much of Russia. It is not a year since my + father was killed in the riots, and two of my brothers were sent to + Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine was deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “They were among the revolutionaries?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “And your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “He, too, was with them in sympathy. Secretly, too, I believe that he + worked among them. Only he had to be careful. You see, his position at the + college made it difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine looked into the woman’s eyes and he knew then that she was + speaking the truth. This man was, indeed, a great master; he had kept her + in ignorance! + </p> + <p> + “Always,” Bernadine said, a few minutes later, as he passed her tea, “I + read with the deepest interest of the people’s movement in Russia. Tell + me, what became eventually of their great leader—the wonderful + Father Paul?” + </p> + <p> + She set down her cup untasted, and her blue eyes flashed with a fire which + turned them almost to the color of steel. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful indeed!” she exclaimed “Wonderful Judas! It was he who wrecked + the cause. It was he who sold the lives and liberty of all of us for + gold.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard a rumor of that,” Bernadine remarked, “but I never believed it.” + </p> + <p> + “It was true,” she declared passionately. + </p> + <p> + “And where is he now?” Bernadine asked. + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” she answered fiercely. “Torn to pieces, we believe, one night in a + house near Moscow. May it be so!” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment, as though engaged in prayer. Bernadine spoke + no more of these things. He talked to her kindly, keeping up always his + role of respectful but hopeful admirer. + </p> + <p> + “You will come again soon?” he begged, when, at last, she insisted upon + going. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “It is so difficult,” she murmured. “If my husband knew—” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine laughed, and touched her fingers caressingly. + </p> + <p> + “Need one tell him?” he whispered. “You see, I trust you. I pray that you + will come-” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine was a man rarely moved towards emotion of any sort. Yet even he + was conscious of a certain sense of excitement, as he stood looking out + upon the Embankment from the windows of Paul Hagon’s sitting-room, a few + days later. Madame was sitting on the sofa, close at hand. It was for her + answer to a certain question that he waited. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said at last, turning slowly towards him, “it must be no. + Indeed, I am sorry, for you have been very charming to me, and without you + I should have been dull. But to come to your rooms and dine alone + to-night, it is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband cannot return before the morning, Bernadine reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “It makes no difference,” she answered. “Paul is sometimes fierce and + rough, but he is generous, and all his life he has worshiped me. He + behaves strangely at times, but I know that he cares—all the time + more, perhaps, than I deserve.” + </p> + <p> + “And there is no one else,” Bernadine asked softly, “who can claim even + the smallest place in your heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” the woman begged, “you must not ask me that. I think that you + had better go away.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine stood quite still for several moments. It was the climax towards + which he had steadfastly guided the course of this mild intrigue. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he declared, “you must not send me away. You shall not.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Then you must not ask impossible things,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Then Bernadine took the plunge. He became suddenly very grave. + </p> + <p> + “Sophia,” he said, “I am keeping a great secret from you and I can do it + no longer. When you speak to me of your husband you drive me mad. If I + believed that you really loved him, I would go away and leave it to chance + whether or not you ever discovered the truth. As it is—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she interposed breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “As it is,” he continued, “I am going to tell you now. Your husband has + deceived you—he is deceiving you every moment.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that there is another woman?” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Worse than that,” he answered. “Your husband stole even your love under + false pretenses. You think that his life is a strange one, that his nerves + have broken down, that he flies from place to place for distraction, for + change of scene. It is not so. He left Rome, he left Nice, he left Paris, + for one and the same reason. He left because he was in peril of his life. + I know little of your history, but I know as much as this. If ever a man + deserved the fate from which he flees, your husband deserves it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mad,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am sane,” he went on. “It is you who are mad, not to have + understood. Your husband goes ever in fear of his life. His real name is + one branded with ignominy throughout the world. The man whom you have + married, to whom you are so scrupulously faithful, is the man who sent + your father to death and your brothers to Siberia.” + </p> + <p> + “Father Paul!” she screamed. + </p> + <p> + “You have lived with him, you are his wife,” Bernadine declared. + </p> + <p> + The color had left her cheeks; her eyes, with their penciled brows, were + fixed in an almost ghastly stare; her breath was coming in uneven gasps. + She looked at him in silent terror. + </p> + <p> + “It is not true,” she cried at last; “it cannot be true.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophia,” he said, “you can prove it for yourself. I know a little of your + husband and his doings. Does he not carry always with him a black box + which he will not allow out of his sight?” + </p> + <p> + “Always,” she assented. “How did you know? By night his hand rests upon + it. By day, if he goes out, it is in my charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch it now,” Bernadine directed, “and I will prove my words.” + </p> + <p> + She did not hesitate for a moment. She disappeared into the inner room; + and came back, only a few moments absent, carrying in her hand a black + leather despatch-box. + </p> + <p> + “You have the key?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, looking at him and trembling, “but I dare not—oh, + I dare not open it!” + </p> + <p> + “Sophia,” he said, “if my words are not true, I will pass out of your life + for always. I challenge you. If you open that box you will know that your + husband is, indeed, the greatest scoundrel in Europe.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a key from a gold chain around her neck. + </p> + <p> + “There are two locks,” she told him. “The other is a combination, but I + know the word. Who’s that?” + </p> + <p> + She started suddenly. There was a loud tapping at the door. Bernadine + threw an antimacassar half over the box, but he was too late. De Grost and + Hagon had crossed the threshold. The woman stood like some dumb creature. + Hagon, transfixed, stood with his eyes riveted upon Bernadine. His face + was distorted with passion, he seemed like a man beside himself with fury. + De Grost came slowly forward into the middle of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Count von Hern,” he said, “I think that you had better leave.” + </p> + <p> + The woman found words. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” she cried, “not yet! Paul, listen to me. This man has told me a + terrible thing.” + </p> + <p> + The breath seemed to come through Hagon’s teeth like a hiss. + </p> + <p> + “He has told you!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” she continued. “It is the truth which you must tell now. + He says that you—you are Father Paul.” + </p> + <p> + Hagon did not hesitate for a second. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a silence—short, but tragical. Hagon seemed suddenly + to have collapsed. He was like a man who has just had a stroke. He stood + muttering to himself. + </p> + <p> + “It is the end—this—the end!” he said, in a low tone. + “Sophia!” + </p> + <p> + She shrank away from him. He drew himself up. Once more the great light + flashed in his face. + </p> + <p> + “It was for your sake,” he said simply, “for your sake, Sophia. I came to + you poor and you would have nothing to say to me. My love for you burned + in my veins like fever. It was for you I did it—for your sake I sold + my honor, the love of my country, the freedom of my brothers. For your + sake I risked an awful death. For your sake I have lived like a hunted + man, with the cry of the wolves always in my ears, and the fear of death + and of eternal torture with me day by day. No other man since the world + was made has done more. Have pity on me!” + </p> + <p> + She was unmoved; her face had lost all expression. No one noticed in that + rapt moment that Bernadine had crept from the room. + </p> + <p> + “It was you,” she cried, “who killed my father, and sent my brothers into + exile.” + </p> + <p> + “God help me!” he moaned. + </p> + <p> + She turned to De Grost. + </p> + <p> + “Take him away with you, please,” she said. “I have finished with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophia!” he pleaded. + </p> + <p> + She leaned across the table and struck him heavily upon the cheek. + </p> + <p> + “If you stay here,” she muttered, “I shall kill you myself....” + </p> + <p> + That night, the body of an unknown foreigner was found in the attic of a + cheap lodging-house in Soho. The discovery itself and the verdict at the + inquest occupied only a few lines in the morning newspapers. Those few + lines were the epitaph of one who was very nearly a Rienzi. The greater + part of his papers De Grost mercifully destroyed, but one in particular he + preserved. Within a week the much delayed treaty was signed at Paris, + London and St. Petersburg. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE FIRST SHOT + </h2> + <p> + De Grost and his wife were dining together at the corner table in a + fashionable but somewhat Bohemian restaurant. Both had been in the humor + for reminiscences, and they had outstayed most of their neighbors. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what people really think of us,” Violet remarked pensively. “I + told Lady Amershal, when she asked us to go there this evening, that we + always dined together alone somewhere once a week, and she absolutely + refused to believe me. ‘With your own husband, my dear?’ She kept on + repeating.” + </p> + <p> + “Her Ladyship’s tastes are more catholic,” the Baron declared dryly. “Yet, + after all, Violet, the real philosophy of married life demands something + of this sort.” + </p> + <p> + Violet smiled and fingered her pearls for a minute. + </p> + <p> + “What the real philosophy of married life may be I do not know,” she said, + “but I am perfectly content with our rendering of it. What a fortunate + thing, Peter, with your intensely practical turn of mind, that nature + endowed you with so much sentiment.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost gazed reflectively at the cigarette which he had just selected + from his case. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he remarked, “there have been times when I have cursed myself for + a fool, but, on the whole, sentiment keeps many fires burning.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him and dropped her voice a little. “Tell me,” she + begged, “do you ever think of the years we spent together in the country? + Do you ever regret?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It is a hard question, that,” he admitted. “There were days there which I + loved, but there were days, too, when the restlessness came, days when I + longed to hear the hum of the city and to hear men speak whose words were + of life and death and the great passions. I am not sure, Violet, whether, + after all, it is well for one who has lived to withdraw absolutely from + the thrill of life.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, Softly but gayly. + </p> + <p> + “I am with you,” she declared, “absolutely. I think that the fairies must + have poured into my blood the joy of living for its own sake. I should be + an ungrateful woman indeed, if I found anything to complain of, nowadays. + Yet there is one thing that troubles me,” she went on, after a moment’s + pause. + </p> + <p> + “And that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The danger,” she said, slowly. “I do not want to lose you, Peter. There + are times when I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost flicked the ash from his cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “The days are passing,” he remarked, “when men point revolvers at one + another, and hire assassins to gain their ends. Now, it is more a battle + of wits. We play chess on the board of Life still, but we play with ivory + pieces instead of steel and poison. Our brains direct and not our + muscles.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “It is only the one man of whom I am afraid. You have outwitted him so + often and he does not forgive.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost smiled. It was an immense compliment—this. + </p> + <p> + “Bernadine,” he murmured, softly, “otherwise, our friend the Count von + Hern.” + </p> + <p> + “Bernadine!” she repeated. “All that you say is true, but when one fails + with modern weapons, one changes the form of attack. Bernadine at heart is + a savage.” + </p> + <p> + “The hate of such a man,” De Grost remarked complacently, “is worth + having. He has had his own way over here for years. He seems to have found + the knack of living in a maze of intrigue and remaining untouchable. There + were a dozen things before I came upon the scene which ought to have + ruined him. Yet there never appeared to be anything to take hold of. Even + the Criminal Department once thought they had a chance. I remember John + Dory telling me in disgust that Bernadine was like one of those marvelous + criminals one only reads about in fiction, who seem, when they pass along + the dangerous places, to walk upon the air, and, leave no trace behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you came,” she said, “he had never known a failure. Do you think + that he is a man likely to forgive?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” De Grost answered grimly. “It is a battle, of course, a battle + all the time. Yet, Violet, between you and me, if Bernadine were to go, + half the savor of life for me would depart with him.” + </p> + <p> + Then there came a curious and wholly unexpected interruption. A man in + dark, plain clothes, still wearing his overcoat, and carrying a bowler + hat, had been standing in the entrance of the restaurant for a moment or + two, looking around the room as though in search of some one. At last he + caught the eye of the Baron de Grost and came quickly toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Charles,” the Baron remarked, raising his eyebrows. “I wonder what he + wants.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden cloud had fallen upon their little feast. Violet watched the + coming of her husband’s servant, and the reading of the note which he + presented to his master, with an anxiety which she could not wholly + conceal. The Baron read the note twice, scrutinizing a certain part of it + closely with the aid of the monocle which he seldom used. Then he folded + it up and placed it in the breast pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + “At what hour did you receive this, Charles?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A messenger brought it in a taxicab about ten minutes ago, sir,” the man + replied. “He said that it was of the utmost importance, and that I had + better try and find you.” + </p> + <p> + “A district messenger?” + </p> + <p> + “A man in ordinary clothes,” Charles answered. “He looked like a porter in + a warehouse, or something of that sort. I forgot to say that you were rung + up on the telephone three times previously by Mr. Greening.” + </p> + <p> + The Baron nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You can go,” he said. “There is no reply.” + </p> + <p> + The man bowed and retired. De Grost called for his bill. + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything serious?” Violet inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly serious,” he answered. “I do not understand what has + happened, but they have sent for me to go—well, where it was agreed + that I should not go except as a matter of urgent necessity.” + </p> + <p> + Violet knew better than to show any signs of disquietude. + </p> + <p> + “It is in London?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” her husband replied. “I shall take a taxicab from here. I am + sorry, dear, to have one of our evenings disturbed in this manner. I have + always done my best to avoid it, but this summons is urgent.” + </p> + <p> + She rose and he wrapped her cloak around her. + </p> + <p> + “You will drive straight home, won’t you?” he begged. “I dare say that I + may be back within an hour myself.” + </p> + <p> + “And if not?” she asked, in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “If not, there is nothing to be done.” + </p> + <p> + Violet bit her lip, but, as he handed her into the small electric brougham + which was waiting, she smiled into his face. + </p> + <p> + “You will come back, and soon, Peter,” she declared, confidently. + “Wherever you go I am sure of that. You see, I have faith in my star which + watches over you.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her fingers and turned away. The commissionaire had already + called him a taxicab. + </p> + <p> + “To London Bridge,” he ordered, after a moment’s hesitation, and drove + off. + </p> + <p> + The traffic citywards had long since finished for the day, and he reached + his destination within ten minutes of leaving the restaurant. Here he paid + the man, and, entering the station, turned to the refreshment room and + ordered a liqueur brandy. While he sipped it, he smoked a cigarette and + carefully reread in a strong light the note which he had received. The + signature especially he pored over for some time. At last, however, he + replaced it in his pocket, paid his bill, and, stepping out once more on + to the platform, entered a telephone booth. A few minutes later he left + the station, and, turning to the right, walked slowly as far as Tooley + Street. He kept on the right-hand side until he arrived at the spot where + the great arches, with their scanty lights, make a gloomy thoroughfare + into Bermondsey. In the shadow of the first of these he paused, and looked + steadfastly across the street. There were few people passing and + practically no traffic. In front of him was a row of warehouses, all save + one of which was wrapped in complete darkness. It was the one where some + lights were still burning which De Grost stood and watched. + </p> + <p> + The lights, such as they were, seemed to illuminate the ground floor only. + From his hidden post he could see the shoulders of a man apparently + bending over a ledger, diligently writing. At the next window a youth, + seated upon a tall stool, was engaged in presumably the same occupation. + There was nothing about the place in the least mysterious or out of the + way. Even the blinds of the offices had been left undrawn. The man and the + boy, who were alone visible, seemed, in a sense, to be working under + protest. Every now and then the former stopped to yawn, and the latter + performed a difficult balancing feat upon his stool. De Grost, having + satisfied his curiosity, came presently from his shelter, almost running + into the arms of a policeman, who looked at him closely. The Baron, who + had an unlighted cigarette in his mouth, stopped to ask for a light, and + his appearance at once set at rest any suspicions the policeman might have + had. + </p> + <p> + “I have a warehouse myself down in these parts,” he remarked, as he struck + the match, “but I don’t allow my people to work as late as that.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed across the way, and the policeman smiled. + </p> + <p> + “They are very often late there, sir,” he said. “It’s a Continental wine + business, and there’s always one or two of them over time.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s bad business, all the same,” De Grost declared pleasantly. “Good + night, policeman!” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, sir!” + </p> + <p> + De Grost crossed the road diagonally, as though about to take the short + cut across London Bridge, but as soon as the policeman was out of sight he + retraced his steps to the building which they had been discussing, and + turning the battered brass handle of the door, walked calmly in. On his + right and left were counting houses framed with glass; in front, the + cavernous and ugly depths of a gloomy warehouse. He knocked upon the + window-pane on the right and passed forward a step or two, as though to + enter the office. The boy, who had been engaged in the left-hand counting + house, came gliding from his place, passed silently behind the visitor and + turned the key of the outer door. What followed seemed to happen as though + by some mysteriously directed force. The figures of men came stealing out + from the hidden places. The clerk who had been working so hard at his desk + calmly divested himself of a false mustache and wig, and, assuming a more + familiar appearance, strolled out into the warehouse. De Grost looked + around him with absolutely unruffled composure. He was the centre of a + little circle of men, respectably dressed, but every one of them + hard-featured, with something in their faces which suggested not the + ordinary toiler, but the fighting animal—the man who lives by his + wits and knows something of danger. On the outskirts of the circle stood + Bernadine. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” De Grost declared, “this is most unexpected. In the matter of + dramatic surprises, my friend Bernadine, you are certainly in a class by + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You will understand, of course,” he said, “that this little entertainment + is entirely for your amusement—well stage-managed, perhaps, but my + supers are not to be taken seriously. Since you are here, Baron, might I + ask you to precede me a few steps to the tasting office? + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” De Grost answered cheerfully. “It is this way, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + He walked with unconcerned footsteps down the warehouse, on either side of + which were great bins and a wilderness of racking, until he came to a + small, glass-enclosed office, built out from the wall. Without hesitation + he entered it, and removing his hat, selected the more comfortable of the + two chairs. Bernadine alone of the others followed him inside, closing the + door behind. De Grost, who appeared exceedingly comfortable, stretched out + his hand and took a small black bottle from a tiny mahogany racking fixed + against the wall by his side. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me, my dear Bernadine,” he said, “but I see my friend + Greening has been tasting a few wines. The ‘XX’ upon the label here + signifies approval. With your permission.” + </p> + <p> + He half filled a glass and pushed the bottle toward Bernadine. + </p> + <p> + “Greening’s taste is unimpeachable,” De Grost declared, setting down his + glass empty. “No use being a director of a city business, you know, unless + one interests oneself personally in it. Greening’s judgment is simply + marvelous. I have never tasted a more beautiful wine. If the boom in + sherry does come,” he continued complacently, “we shall be in an excellent + position to deal with it.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my friend—Peter Ruff, or Baron de Grost, or whatever you may + choose to call yourself,” he said, “I am indeed wise to have come to the + conclusion that you and I are too big to occupy the same little spot on + earth!” + </p> + <p> + De Grost nodded approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “I was beginning to wonder,” he remarked, “whether you would not soon + arrive at that decision.” + </p> + <p> + “Having arrived at it,” Bernadine continued, looking intently at his + companion, “the logical sequence naturally occurs to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, my dear Bernadine,” De Grost asserted. “You say to yourself, + no doubt, ‘One of us two must go!’ Being yourself, you would naturally + conclude that it must be I. To tell you the truth, I have been expecting + some sort of enterprise of this description for a considerable time.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Your expectations,” he said, “seem scarcely to have provided you with a + safe conduct.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost gazed reflectively into his empty glass. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he explained, “I am such a lucky person. Your arrangements + to-night, however, are, I perceive, unusually complete.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you appreciate them,” Bernadine remarked dryly. + </p> + <p> + “I would not for a moment,” De Grost continued, “ask an impertinent or an + unnecessary question, but I must confess that I am rather concerned to + know the fate of my manager—the gentleman whom you yourself with the + aid, I presume, of Mr. Clarkson, so ably represented.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he said, “your manager was a very obstinate person.” + </p> + <p> + “And my clerk?” + </p> + <p> + “Incorruptible, absolutely incorruptible. I congratulate you, De Grost. + Your society is one of the most wonderful upon the face of this earth. I + know little about it, but my admiration is very sincere. Their attention + to details, and the personnel of their staff, is almost perfect. I may + tell you at once that no sum that could be offered, tempted either of + these men.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted to hear it,” De Grost replied, “but I must plead guilty to + a little temporary anxiety as to their present whereabouts.” + </p> + <p> + “At this moment,” Bernadine remarked, “they are within a few feet of us, + but, as you are doubtless aware, access to your delightful river is + obtainable from these premises. To be frank with you, my dear Baron, we + are waiting for the tide to rise.” + </p> + <p> + “So thoughtful about these trifles,” De Grost murmured. “But their present + position? They are, I trust, not uncomfortable?” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine stood up and moved to the further end of the office. He beckoned + his companion to his side and, drawing an electric torch from his pocket, + flashed the light into a dark corner behind an immense bin. The forms of a + man and a youth, bound with ropes and gagged, lay stretched upon the + floor. De Grost sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that Mr. Greening, at any rate, is most + uncomfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine turned off the light. + </p> + <p> + “At least, Baron,” he declared, “if such extreme measures should become + necessary, I can promise you one thing—you shall have a quicker + passage into Eternity than they.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Has it really come to that?” he asked. “Will nothing but so crude a + proceeding as my absolute removal satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing else is, I fear, practicable,” Bernadine replied, “unless you + decide to listen to reason. Believe me, my dear friend, I shall miss you + and our small encounters exceedingly, but, unfortunately, you stand in the + way of my career. You are the only man who has persistently balked me. You + have driven me to use against you means which I had grown to look upon as + absolutely extinct in the upper circles of our profession.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost peered through the glass walls of the office. + </p> + <p> + “Eight men, not counting yourself,” he remarked, “and my poor manager and + his faithful clerk lying bound and helpless. It is heavy odds, Bernadine.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no question of odds, I think,” Bernadine answered smoothly. “You + are much too clever a person to refuse to admit that you are entirely in + my power.” + </p> + <p> + “And as regards terms? I really don’t feel in the least anxious to make my + final bow with so little notice,” De Grost said. “To tell you the truth, I + have been finding life quite interesting lately.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine eyed his prisoner keenly. Such absolute composure was in itself + disturbing. He was, for the moment, aware of a slight sensation of + uneasiness, which his common sense, however, speedily disposed of. + </p> + <p> + “There are two ways,” he announced, “of dealing with an opponent. There is + the old-fashioned one—crude, but in a sense eminently satisfactory—which + sends him finally to adorn some other sphere.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like that one,” De Grost interrupted. “Get on with the + alternative.” + </p> + <p> + “The alternative,” Bernadine declared, “is when his capacity for harm can + be destroyed.” + </p> + <p> + “That needs a little explanation,” De Grost murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. For instance, if you were to become absolutely discredited, I + think that you would be effectually out of my way. Your people do not + forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “Then discredit me, by all means,” De Grost begged. “It sounds unpleasant, + but I do not like your callous reference to the river.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine gazed at his ancient opponent for several moments. After all, + what was this but the splendid bravado of a beaten man, who is too clever + not to recognize defeat? + </p> + <p> + “I shall require,” he said, “your code, the keys of your safe, which + contains a great many documents of interest to me, and a free entry into + your house.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost drew a bunch of keys reluctantly from his pocket and laid them + upon the desk. + </p> + <p> + “You will find the code bound in green morocco leather,” he announced, “on + the left-hand side, underneath the duplicate of a proposed Treaty between + Italy and some other Power. Between ourselves, Bernadine, I really expect + that that is what you are after.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine’s eyes glistened. + </p> + <p> + “What about the safe conduct into your house?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + De Grost drew his case from his pocket and wrote few lines on the back of + one of his cards. + </p> + <p> + “This will insure you entrance there,” he said, “and access to my study. + If you see my wife, please reassure her as to my absence.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall certainly do so,” Bernadine agreed, with a faint smile. + </p> + <p> + “If I may be pardoned for alluding to a purely personal matter,” De Grost + continued, “what is to become of me?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be bound and gagged in the same manner as your manager and his + clerk,” Bernadine replied, smoothly. “I regret the necessity, but you see, + I can afford to run no risks. At four o’clock in the morning, you will be + released. It must be part of our agreement that you allow the man who + stays behind the others for the purpose of setting you free, to depart + unmolested. I think I know you better than to imagine you would be guilty + of such gaucherie as an appeal to the police.” + </p> + <p> + “That, unfortunately,” De Grost declared, with a little sigh, “is, as you + well know, out of the question. You are too clever for me, Bernadine. + After all, I shall have to go back to my farm.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine opened the door and called softly to one of his men. In less + than five minutes De Grost was bound hand and foot. Bernadine stepped back + and eyed his adversary with an air of ill-disguised triumph. + </p> + <p> + “I trust, Baron,” he said, “that you will be as comfortable as possible, + under the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + De Grost lay quite still. He was powerless to move or speak. + </p> + <p> + “Immediately,” Bernadine continued, “I have presented myself at your + house, verified your safe conduct, and helped myself to certain papers + which I am exceedingly anxious to obtain,” he went on, “I shall telephone + here to the man whom I leave in charge and you will be set at liberty in + due course. If, for any reason, I meet with treachery and I do not + telephone, you will join Mr. Greening and his young companion in a little—shall + we call it aquatic recreation? I wish you a pleasant hour and success in + the future, Baron—as a farmer.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine withdrew and whispered his orders to his men. Soon the electric + light was turned out and the place was in darkness. The front door was + opened and closed; the group of confederates upon the pavement lit + cigarettes and wished one another good night with the brisk air of tired + employees, released at last from long labors. Then there was silence. + </p> + <p> + It was barely eleven when Bernadine reached the west end of London. His + clothes had become a trifle disarranged and he called for a few minutes at + his rooms in St. James’s Street. Afterwards, he walked to Porchester House + and rang the bell. To the servant who answered it, he handed his master’s + card. + </p> + <p> + “Will you show me the way to the library?” he asked. “I have some papers + to collect for the Baron de Grost.” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. Even with the card in his hand, it seemed a somewhat + unusual proceeding. + </p> + <p> + “Will you step inside, sir?” he begged. “I should like to show this to the + Baroness. The master is exceedingly particular about any one entering his + study.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what you like so long as you do not keep me waiting,” Bernadine + replied. “Your master’s instructions are clear enough.” + </p> + <p> + Violet came down the great staircase a few moments later, still in her + dinner gown, her face a little pale, her eyes luminous. Bernadine smiled + as he accepted her eagerly offered hand. She was evidently anxious. A + thrill of triumph warmed his blood. Once she had been less kind to him + than she seemed now. + </p> + <p> + “My husband gave you this!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “A few minutes ago,” Bernadine answered. “He tried to make his + instructions as clear as possible. We are jointly interested in a small + matter which needs immediate action.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way to the study. + </p> + <p> + “It seems strange,” she remarked, “that you and he should be working + together. I always thought that you were on opposite sides.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a matter of chance,” Bernadine told her. “Your husband is a wise + man, Baroness. He knows when to listen to reason.” + </p> + <p> + She threw open the door of the study, which was in darkness. + </p> + <p> + “‘If you will wait a moment,” she said, closing the door, “I will turn on + the electric light.” + </p> + <p> + She touched the knobs in the wall and the room was suddenly flooded with + illumination. At the further end of the apartment was the great safe. + Close to it, in an easy chair, his evening coat changed for a smoking + jacket, with a neatly tied black tie replacing his crumpled white cravat, + the Baron de Grost sat awaiting his guest. A fierce oath broke from + Bernadine’s lips. He turned toward the door only in time to hear the key + turn. Violet tossed it lightly in the air across to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Bernadine,” the latter remarked, “on the whole, I do not think + that this has been one of your successes. My keys, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine stood for a moment, his face dark with passion. He bit his lip + till the blood came, and the veins at the back of his clenched hands were + swollen and thick. Nevertheless, when he spoke he had recovered in great + measure his self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Your keys are here, Baron de Grost,” he said, placing them upon the + table. “If a bungling amateur may make such a request of a professor, may + I inquire how you escaped from your bonds, passed through the door of a + locked warehouse and reached here before me?” + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Grost smiled as he pushed the cigarettes across to his + visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” he said, “you have only to think for yourself for a moment, my + dear Bernadine, and you will understand. In the first place, the letter + you sent me signed ‘Greening’ was clearly a forgery. There was no one else + anxious to get me into their power, hence I associated it at once with + you. Naturally, I telephoned to the chief of my staff—I, too, am + obliged to employ some of these un-uniformed policemen, my dear Bernadine, + as you may be aware. It may interest you to know, further, that there are + seven entrances to the warehouse in Tooley Street. Through one of these + something like twenty of my men passed and were already concealed in the + place when I entered. At another of the doors a motor-car waited for me. + If I had chosen to lift my finger at any time, your men would have been + overpowered and I might have had the pleasure of dictating terms to you in + my own office. Such a course did not appeal to me. You and I, as you know, + dear Count von Hern, conduct our peculiar business under very delicate + conditions, and the least thing we either of us desire is notoriety. I + managed things, as I thought, for the best. The moment you left the place + my men swarmed in. We kindly, but gently, ejected your guard, released + Greening and my clerk, and I passed you myself in Fleet Street, a little + more comfortable, I think, in my forty-horsepower motor-car than you in + that very disreputable hansom. As to my presence here, I have an entrance + from the street there which makes me independent of my servants. The other + details are too absurdly simple; one need not enlarge upon them.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine turned slowly to Violet. + </p> + <p> + “You knew?” he muttered. “You knew when you brought me here?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” she answered. “We have telephones in every room in the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at your service,” Bernadine declared, calmly. + </p> + <p> + De Grost laughed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he said, “need I say that you are free to come or go, to + take a whiskey and soda with me, or to depart at once, exactly as you feel + inclined? The door was locked only until you restored to me my keys.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room, fitted the key in the lock and turned it. + </p> + <p> + “We do not make war as those others,” he remarked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Bernadine drew himself up. + </p> + <p> + “I will not drink with you,” he said, “I will not smoke with you. But some + day this reckoning shall come.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the door. De Grost laid his finger upon the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Show Count von Hern out,” he directed the astonished servant who appeared + a moment or two later. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE SEVEN SUPPERS OF ANDREA KORUST + </h2> + <p> + Peter, Baron de Grost, was enjoying what he had confidently looked forward + to as an evening’s relaxation, pure and simple. He sat in one of the front + rows of the stalls of the Alhambra, his wife by his side and an excellent + cigar in his mouth. An hour or so ago he had been in telephonic + communication with Paris, had spoken with Sogrange himself, and received + his assurance of a calm in political and criminal affairs amounting almost + to stagnation. It was out of season, and, though his popularity was as + great as ever, neither he nor his wife had any social engagements; hence + this evening at a music hall, which Peter, for his part, was finding + thoroughly amusing. + </p> + <p> + The place was packed—some said owing to the engagement of Andrea + Korust and his brother, others to the presence of Mademoiselle Sophie + Celaire in her wonderful danse des apaches. The violinist that night had a + great reception. Three times he was called before the curtain; three times + he was obliged to reiterate his grateful but immutable resolve never to + yield to the nightly storm which demanded more from a man who has given of + his best. Slim, with the worn face and hollow eyes of a genius, he stood + and bowed his thanks, but when he thought the time had arrived, he + disappeared, and though the house shook for minutes afterwards, nothing + could persuade him to reappear. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards came the turn which, notwithstanding the furore caused by + Andrea Korust’s appearance, was generally considered to be equally + responsible for the packed house—the apache dance of Mademoiselle + Sophie Celaire. Peter sat slightly forward in his chair as the curtain + went up. For a time he seemed utterly absorbed by the performance. Violet + glanced at him once or twice curiously. It began to occur to her that it + was not so much the dance as the dancer in whom her husband was + interested. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen her before—this Mademoiselle Celaire?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Peter, nodding, “I have seen her before.” + </p> + <p> + The dance proceeded. It was like many others of its sort, only a little + more daring, a little more finished. Mademoiselle Celaire, in her + tight-fitting, shabby black frock, with her wild mass of hair, her + flashing eyes, her seductive gestures, was, without doubt, a marvelous + person. Peter, Baron de Grost, watched her every movement with absorbed + attention. When the curtain went down he forgot to clap. His eyes followed + her off the stage. Violet shrugged her shoulders. She was looking very + handsome herself in a black velvet dinner gown, and a hat so exceedingly + Parisian that no one had had the heart to ask her to remove it. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Peter,” she remarked, reprovingly, “a moderate amount of + admiration for that very agile young lady I might, perhaps, be inclined to + tolerate; but, having watched you for the last quarter of an hour, I am + bound to confess that I am becoming jealous.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Mademoiselle Celaire?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of Mademoiselle Sophie Celaire.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned a little towards her. His lips were parted; he was about to make + a statement or a confession. Just then a tall commissionaire leaned over + from behind and touched him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “For Monsieur le Baron de Grost,” he announced, handing Peter a note. + </p> + <p> + Peter glanced towards his wife. + </p> + <p> + “You permit me?” he murmured, breaking the seal. + </p> + <p> + Violet shrugged her shoulders, ever so slightly. Her husband was already + absorbed in the few lines hastily scrawled across the sheet of notepaper + which he held in his hand. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MONSIEUR LE BARON DE GHOST. + Dear Monsieur le Baron, + 4 Come to my dressing-room, without 4 + fail, as soon as you receive this. + SOPHIE CELAIRE. +</pre> + <p> + Violet looked over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “The hussy!” she exclaimed, indignantly. Her husband raised his eyebrows. + With his forefinger he merely tapped the two numerals. + </p> + <p> + “The Double-Four!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + He looked around and nodded. The commissionaire was waiting. Peter took up + his silk hat from under the seat. + </p> + <p> + “If I am detained, dear,” he whispered, “you’ll make the best of it, won’t + you? The car will be here and Frederick will be looking out for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she answered, cheerfully. “I shall be quite all right.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded brightly and Peter took his departure. He passed through a door + on which was painted “Private,” and through a maze of scenery and stage + hands and ballet ladies by a devious route to the region of the + dressing-rooms. His guide conducted him to the door of one of these and + knocked. + </p> + <p> + “Entrez, monsieur,” a shrill feminine voice replied. + </p> + <p> + Peter entered and closed the door behind him. The commissionaire remained + outside. Mademoiselle Celaire turned to greet her visitor. + </p> + <p> + “It is a few words I desire with you as quickly as possible, if you + please, Monsieur le Baron,” she said, advancing towards him. “Listen.” + </p> + <p> + She had brushed out her hair and it hung from her head straight and a + little stiff, almost like the hair of an Indian woman. She had washed her + face, too, free of all cosmetics and her pallor was almost waxen. She wore + a dressing gown of green silk. Her discarded black frock lay upon the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “I am entirely at your service, mademoiselle,” Peter answered, bowing. + “Continue, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “You sup with me to-night—you are my guest.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I am very much honored,” he murmured. “It is an affair of urgency, then? + Mademoiselle will remember that I am not alone here.” + </p> + <p> + She threw out her hands scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “They told me in Paris that you were a genius!” she exclaimed. “Cannot you + feel, then, when a thing is urgent? Do you not know it without being told? + You must meet me with a carriage at the stage door in forty minutes. We + sup in Hamilton Place with Andrea Korust and his brother.” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” Peter asked, surprised. + </p> + <p> + “With the Korust Brothers,” she repeated. “I have just been talking to + Andrea. He calls himself a Hungarian. Bah! They are as much Hungarian, + those young men, as I am!” + </p> + <p> + Peter leaned slightly against the table and looked thoughtfully at his + companion. He was trying to remember whether he had ever heard anything of + these young men. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said, “the prospect of partaking of any meal in your + company is in itself enchanting, but I do not know your friends, the + Korust Brothers. Apart from their wonderful music, I do not recollect ever + having heard of them before in my life. What excuse have I, then, for + accepting their hospitality? Pardon me, too, if I add that you have not as + yet spoken as to the urgency of this affair.” + </p> + <p> + She turned from him impatiently and, throwing herself back into the chair + from which she had risen at his entrance, she began to exchange the thick + woolen stockings which she had been wearing upon the stage for others of + fine silk. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, la, la!” she exclaimed. “You are very slow, Monsieur le Baron. It is, + perhaps, my stage name which has misled you. I am Marie Lapouse. Does that + convey anything to you?” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal,” Peter admitted, quickly. “You stand very high upon the + list of my agents whom I may trust.” + </p> + <p> + “Then stay here no longer,” she begged, “for my maid waits outside and I + need her services. Go back and make your excuses to your wife. In forty + minutes I shall expect you at the stage door.” + </p> + <p> + “An affair of diplomacy, this, or brute force?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows what may happen!” she replied. “To tell you the truth, I do + not know myself. Be prepared for anything, but, for Heaven’s sake, go now! + I can dress no further without my maid, and Andrea Korust may come in at + any moment. I do not wish him to find you here.” + </p> + <p> + Peter made his way thoughtfully back to his seat. He explained the + situation to his wife so far as he could, and sent her home. Then he + waited about until the car returned, smoking a cigarette and trying once + more to remember if he had ever heard anything from Sogrange of Andrea + Korust or his brother. Punctually at the time stated he was outside the + stage door of the music-hall, and a few minutes later Mademoiselle Celaire + appeared, a dazzling vision of fur and smiles and jewelry imperfectly + concealed. A small crowd pressed around to see the famous Frenchwoman. + Peter handed her gravely across the pavement into his waiting car. One or + two of the loungers gave vent to a groan of envy at the sight of the + diamonds which blazed from her neck and bosom. Peter smiled as he gave the + address to his servant and took his place by the side of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “They see only the externals, this mob,” he remarked. “They picture to + themselves, perhaps, a little supper for two. Alas!” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Celaire laughed at him softly. + </p> + <p> + “You need not trouble to assume that most disconsolate of expressions, my + dear Baron,” she assured him. “Your reputation as a man of gallantry is + beyond question; but remember that I know you also for the most devoted + and loyal of husbands. We waste no time in folly, you and I. It is the + business of the Double-Four.” + </p> + <p> + Peter was relieved, but his innate politeness forbade his showing it. + </p> + <p> + “Proceed,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “The Brothers Korust,” she went on, leaning towards him, “have a week’s + engagement at the Alhambra. Their salary is six hundred pounds. They play + very beautifully, of course, but I think that it is as much as they are + worth.” + </p> + <p> + Peter agreed with her fervently. He had no soul for music. + </p> + <p> + “They have taken the furnished house belonging to one of your dukes, in + Hamilton Place, for which we are now bound; taken it, too, at a fabulous + rent,” Mademoiselle Celaire continued. “They, have installed there a chef + and a whole retinue of servants. They are here for seven nights; they have + issued invitations for seven supper parties.” + </p> + <p> + “Hospitable young men they seem to be,” Peter murmured. “I read in one of + the stage papers that Andrea is a Count in his own country, and that they + perform in public only for the love of their music and for the sake of the + excitement and travel.” + </p> + <p> + “A paragraph wholly inspired and utterly false,” Mademoiselle Celaire + declared, firmly, sitting a little forward in the car, and laying her + hand, ablaze with jewels, upon his coat sleeve. “Listen. They call + themselves Hungarians. Bah! I know that they are in touch with a great + European court, both of them, the court of the country to which they + belong. They have plans, plans and schemes connected with their visit + here, which I do not understand. I have done my best with Andrea Korust, + but he is not a man to be trusted. I know that there is something more in + these seven supper parties than idle hospitality. I and others like me, + artistes and musicians, are invited, to give the assembly a properly + Bohemian tone; but there are to be other guests, attracted there, no + doubt, because the papers have spoken of these gatherings.” + </p> + <p> + “You have some idea of what it all means, in your mind?” Peter suggested. + </p> + <p> + “It is too vague to put into words,” she declared, shaking her head. “We + must both watch. Afterwards, we will, if you like, compare notes.” + </p> + <p> + The car drew up before the doors of a handsome house in Hamilton Place. A + footman received Peter and relieved him of his hat and overcoat. A trim + maid performed the same office for Mademoiselle Celaire. They met, a + moment or two later, and were ushered into a large drawing-room in which a + dozen or two of men and women were already assembled, and from which came + a pleasant murmur of voices and laughter. The apartment was hung with pale + green satin; the furniture was mostly Chippendale, upholstered in the same + shade. A magnificent grand piano stood open in a smaller room, just + visible beyond. Only one thing seemed strange to the two newly arrived + guests. The room was entirely lit with shaded candles, giving a certain + mysterious but not unpleasant air of obscurity to the whole suite of + apartments. Through the gloom, the jewels and eyes of the women seemed to + shine with a new brilliance. Slight eccentricities of toilette, for a part + of the gathering was distinctly Bohemian, were softened and subdued. The + whole effect was somewhat weird, but also picturesque. + </p> + <p> + Andrea Korust advanced from a little group to meet his guests. Off the + stage he seemed at first sight frailer and slighter than ever. His dress + coat had been exchanged for a velvet dinner jacket, and his white tie for + a drooping black bow. He had a habit of blinking nearly all the time, as + though his large brown eyes, which he seldom wholly opened, were weaker + than they appeared to be. Nevertheless, when he came to within a few paces + of his newly arrived visitors, they shone with plenty of expression. + Without any change of countenance, however, he held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Andrea,” Mademoiselle Celaire exclaimed, “you permit me that I + present to you my dear friend, well known in Paris—alas! many years + ago—Monsieur le Baron de Grost. Monsieur le Baron was kind enough to + pay his respects to me this evening, and I have induced him to become my + escort here.” + </p> + <p> + “It was my good fortune,” Peter remarked, smiling, “that I saw + Mademoiselle Celaire’s name upon the bills this evening—my good + fortune, since it has procured for me the honor of an acquaintance with a + musician so distinguished.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, Monsieur le Baron,” Korust replied. + </p> + <p> + “You stay here, I regret to hear, a very short time?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” Andrea Korust admitted, “it is so. For myself I would that it were + longer. I find your London so attractive, the people so friendly. They + fall in with my whims so charmingly. I have a hatred, you know, of + solitude. I like to make acquaintances wherever I go, to have delightful + women and interesting men around, to forget that life is not always gay. + If I am too much alone, I am miserable, and when I am miserable I am in a + very bad way indeed. I cannot then make music.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled gravely and sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “And your brother? Does he, too, share your gregarious instincts?” + </p> + <p> + Korust paused for a moment before replying. His eyes were quite wide open + now. If one could judge from his expression, one would certainly have said + that the Baron de Grost’s attempts to ingratiate himself with his host + were distinctly unsuccessful. + </p> + <p> + “My brother has exactly opposite instincts,” he said slowly. “He finds no + pleasure in society. At the sound of a woman’s voice, he hides.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not here, then?” Peter asked, glancing around. + </p> + <p> + Andrea Korust shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It is doubtful whether he joins us this evening at all,” he declared. “My + sister, however, is wholly of my disposition. Monsieur le Baron will + permit that I present him.” + </p> + <p> + Peter bowed low before a very handsome young woman with flashing black + eyes, and a type of features undoubtedly belonging to one of the countries + of eastern Europe. She was picturesquely dressed in a gown of flaming red + silk, made as though in one piece, without trimming or flounces, and she + seemed inclined to bestow upon her new acquaintance all the attention that + he might desire. She took him at once into a corner and seated herself by + his side. It was impossible for Peter not to associate the empressement of + her manner with the few words which Andrea Korust had whispered into her + ear at the moment of their introduction. + </p> + <p> + “So you,” she murmured, “are the wonderful Baron de Grost. I have heard of + you so often.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” Peter repeated, with twinkling eyes. “I have never been + called that before. I feel that I have no claims whatever to distinction, + especially in a gathering like this.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders and glanced carelessly across the room. + </p> + <p> + “They are well enough,” she admitted, “but one wearies of genius on every + side of one. Genius is not the best thing in the world to live with, you + know. It has whims and fancies. For instance, look at these rooms—the + gloom, the obscurity—and I love so much the light.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is the privilege of genius,” he remarked, “to have whims and to + indulge in them.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “To do Andrea justice,” she said, “it is, perhaps, scarcely a whim that he + chooses to receive his guests in semi-darkness. He has weak eyes and he is + much too vain to wear spectacles. Tell me, you know every one here?” + </p> + <p> + “No one,” Peter declared. “Please enlighten me, if you think it necessary. + For myself,” he added, dropping his voice a little, “I feel that the + happiness of my evening is assured, without making any further + acquaintances.” + </p> + <p> + “But you came as the guest of Mademoiselle Celaire,” she reminded him, + doubtfully, with a faint regretful sigh and a provocative gleam in her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Mademoiselle Celaire to-night for the first time for years,” Peter + replied. “I called to see her in her dressing-room and she claimed me for + an escort this evening. I am, alas! a very occasional wanderer in the + pleasant paths of Bohemia.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is really true,” she murmured, “I suppose I must tell you + something about the people, or you will feel that you have wasted your + opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” Peter whispered. + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand and laughed into his face. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she interrupted. “I shall do my duty. Opposite you is Mademoiselle + Trezani, the famous singer at Covent Garden. Do I need to tell you that, I + wonder? Rudolf Maesterling, the dramatist, stands behind her there in the + corner. He is talking to the wonderful Cleo, whom all the world knows. + Monsieur Guyer there, he is manager, I believe, of the Alhambra; and + talking to him is Marborg, the great pianist. One of the ladies talking to + my brother is Esther Braithwaite, whom, of course, you know by sight; she + is leading lady, is she not, at the Hilarity? The other is Miss Ransome; + they tell me that she is your only really great English actress.” + </p> + <p> + Peter nodded appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “It is all most interesting,” he declared. “Now tell me, please, who is + the military person with the stiff figure and sallow complexion, standing + by the door? He seems quite alone.” + </p> + <p> + The girl made a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I ought to be looking after him,” she admitted, rising + reluctantly to her feet. “He is a soldier just back from India—a + General Noseworthy, with all sorts of letters after his name. If + Mademoiselle Celaire is generous, perhaps we may have a few minutes’ + conversation later on,” she added, with a parting smile. + </p> + <p> + “Say, rather, if Mademoiselle Korust is kind,” De Grost replied, bowing. + “It depends upon that only.” + </p> + <p> + He strolled across the room and rejoined Mademoiselle Celaire a few + moments later. They stood apart in a corner. + </p> + <p> + “I should like my supper,” Peter declared. + </p> + <p> + “They wait for one more guest,” Mademoiselle Celaire announced. + </p> + <p> + “One more guest! Do you know who it is?” + </p> + <p> + “No idea,” she answered. “One would imagine that it was some one of + importance. Are you any wiser than when you came, dear master?” she added, + under her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Not a whit,” he replied, promptly. + </p> + <p> + She took out her fan and waved it slowly in front of her face. + </p> + <p> + “Yet you must discover what it all means to-night or not at all,” she + whispered. “The dear Andrea has intimated to me most delicately that + another escort would be more acceptable if I should honor him again.” + </p> + <p> + “That helps,” he murmured. “See, our last guest arrives.” + </p> + <p> + A tall,—spare-looking man was just being announced. They heard his + name as Andrea presented him to a companion— + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Mayson!” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Celaire saw a gleam in her companion’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is coming—the idea?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Very vaguely,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this Colonel Mayson?” + </p> + <p> + “Our only military aeronaut,” Peter replied. + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Aeronaut!” she repeated, doubtfully. “I see nothing in that. Both my own + country and Germany are years ahead of poor England in the air. Is it not + so?” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled and held out his arm. + </p> + <p> + “See,” he said, “supper has been announced. Afterwards, Andrea Korust will + play to us, and I think that Colonel Mayson and his distinguished brother + officer from India will talk. We shall see.” + </p> + <p> + They passed into a room whose existence had suddenly been revealed by the + drawing back of some beautiful brocaded curtains. Supper was a delightful + meal, charmingly served. Peter, putting everything else out of his head + for the moment, thoroughly enjoyed himself, and, remembering his duty as a + guest, contributed in no small degree towards the success of the + entertainment. He sat between Mademoiselle Celaire and his hostess, both + of whom demanded much from him in the way of attention. But he still found + time to tell stories which were listened to by every one, and exchanged + sallies with the gayest. Only Andrea Korust, from his place at the head of + the table, glanced occasionally towards his popular guest with a curious, + half-hidden expression of distaste and suspicion. + </p> + <p> + The more the Baron de Grost shone, the more uneasy he became. The signal + to rise from the meal was given almost abruptly. Mademoiselle Korust hung + on to Peter’s arm. Her own wishes and her brother’s orders seemed + absolutely to coincide. She led him towards a retiring corner of the music + room. On the way, however, Peter overheard the introduction which he had + expected. + </p> + <p> + “General Noseworthy is just returned from India, Colonel Mayson,” Korust + said, in his usual quiet, tired tone. “You will, perhaps, find it + interesting to talk together a little. As for me, I play because all are + polite enough to wish it, but conversation disturbs me not in the least.” + </p> + <p> + Peter passed, smiling, on to the corner pointed out by his companion, + which was the darkest and most secluded in the room. He took her fan and + gloves, lit her cigarette, and leaned back by her side. + </p> + <p> + “How does your brother, a stranger to London, find time to make the + acquaintance of so many interesting people?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He brought many letters,” she replied. “He has friends everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea,” Peter remarked, “that an acquaintance of my own, the + Count von Hern, spoke to me once about him.” + </p> + <p> + She took her cigarette from her lips and turned her head slightly. Peter’s + expression was one of amiable reminiscence. His cheeks were a trifle + flushed, his appearance was entirely reassuring. She laughed at her + brother’s caution. She found her companion delightful. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Count von Hern is a friend of my brother’s,” she admitted, + carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “And of yours?” he whispered, his arm slightly pressed against hers. + </p> + <p> + She laughed at him silently and their eyes met. Decidedly Peter, Baron de + Grost, found it hard to break away from his old weakness! Andrea Korust, + from his place near the piano, breathed a sigh of relief as he watched. A + moment or two later, however, Mademoiselle Korust was obliged to leave her + companion to receive a late but unimportant guest, and almost + simultaneously Colonel Mayson passed by on his way to the farther end of + the apartment. Andrea Korust was bending over the piano to give some + instructions to his accompanist. Peter leaned forward and his face and + tone were strangely altered. + </p> + <p> + “You will find General Noseworthy of the Indian Army a little inquisitive, + Colonel,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + The latter turned sharply round. There was meaning in those few words, + without doubt! There was meaning, too, in the still, cold face which + seemed to repel his question. He passed on thoughtfully. Mademoiselle + Korust, with a gesture of relief, came back and threw herself once more + upon the couch. + </p> + <p> + “We must talk in whispers,” she said, gayly. “Andrea always declares that + he does not mind conversation, but too much noise is, of course, + impossible. Besides, Mademoiselle Celaire will not spare you to me for + long.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a whole language,” he replied, “which was made for whispers. And + as for Mademoiselle Celaire—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Celaire is, I think, more your brother’s friend than mine,” + he murmured. “At least, I will be generous. He has given me a delightful + evening. I resign my claims upon Mademoiselle Celaire.” + </p> + <p> + “It would break your heart,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + His voice sank even below a whisper. Decidedly, Peter, Baron de Grost, did + not improve! + </p> + <p> + He rose to leave precisely at the right time, neither too early nor too + late. He had spent altogether a most amusing evening. There were one or + two little comedies which had diverted him extremely. At the moment of + parting, the beautiful eyes of Mademoiselle Korust had been raised to his + very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “You will come again very soon—to-morrow night?” she had whispered. + “Is it necessary that you bring Mademoiselle Celaire?” + </p> + <p> + “It is altogether unnecessary,” Peter replied. + </p> + <p> + “Let me try and entertain you instead, then!” + </p> + <p> + It was precisely at that instant that Andrea had sent for his sister. + Peter watched their brief conversation with much interest and intense + amusement. She was being told not to invite him there again and she was + rebelling! Without a doubt, he had made a conquest! She returned to him + flushed and with a dangerous glitter in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Baron,” she said, leading him on one side, “I am ashamed and + angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother is annoyed because you have asked me here to-morrow night?” + he asked, quickly. + </p> + <p> + “It is so,” she confessed. “Indeed, I thank you that you have spared me + the task of putting my brother’s discourtesy into words. Andrea takes + violent fancies like that sometimes. I am ashamed, but what can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, mademoiselle,” he admitted, with a sigh. “I obey, of course. Did + your brother mention the source of his aversion to me?” + </p> + <p> + “He is too absurd sometimes,” she declared. “One must treat him like a + great baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, there must be a reason,” Peter persisted, gently. + </p> + <p> + “He has heard some foolish thing from Count von Hern,” she admitted, + reluctantly. “Do not let us think anything more about it. In a few days it + will have passed. And meanwhile—” + </p> + <p> + She paused. He leaned a little towards her. She was looking intently at a + ring upon her finger. + </p> + <p> + “If you would really like to see me,” she whispered, “and if you are sure + that Mademoiselle Celaire would not object, could you not ask me to tea + to-morrow—or the next day?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” Peter insisted, with a becoming show of eagerness. “Shall we + say at the Canton at five?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that rather a public place?” she objected. + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere else you like.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a moment. She seemed to be waiting for some suggestion + from him. None came, however. + </p> + <p> + “The Carlton at five,” she murmured. “I am angry with Andrea. I feel, + even, that I could break his wonderful violin in two!” + </p> + <p> + Peter sighed once more. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to twist von Hern’s neck,” he declared. “Lucky for him that + he’s in St. Petersburg! Let us forget this unpleasant matter, + mademoiselle. The evening has been too delightful for such memories.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Celaire turned to her escort eagerly as soon as they were + alone together in the car. + </p> + <p> + “As an escort, let me tell you, my dear Baron,” she exclaimed, with some + pique, “that you are a miserable failure! For the rest—” + </p> + <p> + “For the rest, I will admit that I am puzzled,” Peter said. “I need to + think. I have the glimmerings of an idea—no more.” + </p> + <p> + “You will act? It is an affair for us—for the Double-Four?” + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt—an affair and a serious one,” Peter assured her. “I + shall act; exactly how I cannot say until after to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” she repeated, inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Korust takes tea with me,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + In a quiet sort of way, the series of supper parties given by Andrea + Korust became the talk of London. The most famous dancer in the world + broke through her unvarying rule and night after night thrilled the + distinguished little gathering. An opera singer, the “star” of the season, + sang, a great genius recited, and Andrea himself gave always of his best. + Apart from this wonderful outpouring of talent, Andrea Korust himself + seemed to possess the peculiar art of bringing into touch with one another + people naturally interested in the same subjects. On the night after the + visit of Peter, Baron de Grost, His Grace the Duke of Rosshire was + present, the man in whose hands lay the destinies of the British Navy; + and, curiously enough, on the same night, a great French writer on naval + subjects was present, whom the Duke had never met, and with whom he was + delighted to talk for some time apart. On another occasion, the Military + Secretary to the French Embassy was able to have a long and instructive + chat with a distinguished English general on the subject of the recent + maneuvers, and the latter received, in the strictest confidence, some very + interesting information concerning the new type of French guns. On the + following evening, the greatest of our Colonial statesmen, a red-hot + Imperialist, was able to chat about the resources of the Empire with an + English politician of similar views whom he chanced never to have + previously met. Altogether, these parties seemed to be the means of + bringing together a series of most interesting people, interesting not + only in themselves, but in their relations to one another. It was + noticeable, however, that from this side of his little gatherings Andrea + Korust remained wholly apart. He frankly admitted that music and cheerful + companionship were the only two things in life he cared for. Politics or + matters of world import seemed to leave him unmoved. If a serious subject + of conversation were started at supper time, he was frankly bored, and + took no particular pains to hide the fact. It is certain that whatever + interesting topics were alluded to in his presence, he remained entirely + outside any understanding of them. Mademoiselle Celaire, who was present + most evenings, although with other escorts, was entirely puzzled. She + could see nothing whatever to account for the warning which she had + received, and which she had passed on, as was her duty, to the Baron de + Grost. She failed, also, to understand the faint but perceptible + enlightenment to which Peter himself had admittedly attained after that + first evening. Take that important conversation, for instance, between the + French military attach, and the English general. Without a doubt it was of + interest, and especially so to the country which she was sure claimed his + allegiance, but it was equally without doubt that Andrea Korust neither + overheard a word of that conversation nor betrayed the slightest curiosity + concerning it. Mademoiselle Celaire was a clever woman and she had never + felt so hopelessly at fault.... + </p> + <p> + The seventh and last of these famous supper parties was in full swing. + Notwithstanding the shaded candles, which left the faces of the guests a + little indistinct, the scene was a brilliant one. Mademoiselle Celaire was + wearing her famous diamonds, which shone through the gloom like pin-pricks + of fire. Garda Desmaines, the wonderful Garda, sat next to her host, her + bosom and hair on fire with jewels, yet with the most wonderful light of + all glowing in her eyes. A famous actor, who had thrown his proverbial + reticence to the winds, kept his immediate neighbors in a state of + semi-hysterical mirth. The clink of wine glasses, the laughter of + beautiful women, the murmur of cultivated voices, rising and swelling + through the faint, mysterious gloom, made a picturesque, a wonderful + scene. Pale as a marble statue, with the covert smile of the gracious + host, Andrea Korust sat at the head of his table, well pleased with his + company, as indeed he had the right to be. By his side was a great + American statesman, who was traveling around the world and yet had refused + all other invitations of this sort. He had come for the pleasure of + meeting the famous Dutch writer and politician, Mr. Van Jool. The two were + already talking intimately. It was at this point that tragedy, or + something like it, intervened. A impatient voice was heard in the hall + outside, a voice which grew louder and louder, more impatient, finally + more passionate. People raised their heads to listen. The American + statesman, who was, perhaps, the only one to realize exactly what was + coming, slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped something cold and + hard. Then the door was flung open. An apologetic and much disturbed + butler made the announcement which had evidently been demanded of him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Von Tassen!” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed—breathless—the silence before the bursting + of the storm. Mr. Von Tassen was the name of the American statesman, and + the man who rose slowly from his place by his host’s side was the exact + double of the man who stood now upon the threshold, gazing in upon the + room. The expression of the two alone was different. The newcomer was + furiously angry, and looked it. The sham Mr. Von Tassen was very much at + his ease. It was he who broke the silence, and his voice was curiously + free from all trace of emotion. He was looking his double over with an air + of professional interest. + </p> + <p> + “On the whole,” he said, calmly, “very good. A little stouter, I perceive, + and the eyebrows a trifle too regular. Of course, when you make faces at + me like that, it is hard to judge of the expression. I can only say that I + did the best I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil are you, masquerading in my name?” the newcomer demanded, + with emphasis. “This man is an impostor!” he added, turning to Andrea + Korust. “What is he doing at your table?” + </p> + <p> + Andrea leaned forward and his face was an evil thing to look upon. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he hissed out. + </p> + <p> + The sham Mr. Von Tassen turned away for a moment and stooped down. The + trick has been done often enough upon the stage, often in less time, but + seldom with more effect. The wonderful wig disappeared, the spectacles, + the lines in the face, the make-up of diabolical cleverness. With his back + to the wall and his fingers playing with something in his pocket, Peter, + Baron de Grost, smiled upon his host. + </p> + <p> + “Since you insist upon knowing—the Baron de Grost, at your service!” + he announced. + </p> + <p> + Andrea Korust was, for the moment, speechless. One of the women shrieked. + The real Mr. Von Tassen looked around him helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “Will some one be good enough to enlighten me as to the meaning of this?” + he begged. “Is it a roast? If so, I only want to catch on. Let me get to + the joke, if there is one. If not, I should like a few words of + explanation from you, sir,” he added, addressing Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Presently,” the latter replied. “In the meantime, let me persuade you + that I am not the only impostor here.” + </p> + <p> + He seized a glass of water and dashed it in the face of Mr. Van Jool. + There was a moment’s scuffle, and no more of Mr. Van Jool. What emerged + was a good deal like the shy Maurice Korust, who accompanied his brother + at the music hall, but whose distaste for these gatherings had been + Andrea’s continual lament. The Baron de Grost stepped back once more + against the wall. His host was certainly looking dangerous. Mademoiselle + Celaire was leaning forward, staring through the gloom with distended + eyes. Around the table every head was turned towards the centre of the + disturbance. It was Peter again who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Let me suggest, Andrea Korust,” he said, “that you send your guests—those + who are not immediately interested in this affair—into the next + room. I will offer Mr. Von Tassen then the explanation to which he is + entitled.” + </p> + <p> + Andrea Korust staggered to his feet. The nerve had failed. He was shaking + all over. He pointed to the music room. + </p> + <p> + “If you would be so good, ladies and gentlemen?” he begged. “We will + follow you immediately.” + </p> + <p> + They went with obvious reluctance. All their eyes seemed focussed upon + Peter. He bore their scrutiny with calm cheerfulness. For a moment he had + feared Korust, but that moment had passed. A servant, obeying his master’s + gesture, pulled back the curtains after the departing crowd. The four men + were alone. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Von Tassen,” Peter said, easily, “you are a man who loves adventures. + To-night you experience a new sort of one. Over in your great country, + such methods are laughed at as the cheap device of sensation mongers. + Nevertheless, they exist. To-night is a proof that they exist.” + </p> + <p> + “Get on to facts, sir,” the American admonished. “You’ve got to explain to + me what you mean by passing yourself off as Thomas Von Tassen, before you + leave this room.” + </p> + <p> + Peter bowed. + </p> + <p> + “With much pleasure, Mr. Von Tassen,” he declared. “For your information, + I might tell you that you are not the only person in whose guise I have + figured. In fact, I have had quite a busy week. I have been—let me + see—I have been Monsieur le Marquis de Beau Kunel on the night when + our shy friend, Maurice Korust, was playing the part of General Henderson. + I have also been His Grace the Duke of Rosshire when my friend Maurice + here was introduced to me as Francois Defayal, known by name to me as one + of the greatest writers on naval matters. A little awkward about the + figure I found His Grace, but otherwise I think that I should have passed + muster wherever he was known. I have also passed as Sir William Laureston, + on the evening when my rival artist here sang the praises of Imperial + England.” + </p> + <p> + Andrea Korust leaned forward with venomous eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that it was you who was here last night in Sir William + Laureston’s place?” he almost shrieked. + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly,” Peter admitted, “but you must remember that, after all, + my performances have been no more difficult than those of your shy but + accomplished brother. Whenever I took to myself a strange personality I + found him there, equally good as to detail, and with his subject always at + his finger tips. We settled that little matter of the canal, didn’t we?” + Peter remarked, cheerfully, laying his hand upon the shoulder of the young + man. + </p> + <p> + They stared at him, those two white-faced brothers, like tiger-cats about + to spring. Mr. Von Tassen was getting impatient. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he protested, “you may be clearing matters up so far as + regards Mr. Andrea Korust and his brother, but I’m as much in the fog as + ever. Where do I come in?” + </p> + <p> + “Your pardon, sir,” Peter replied. “I am getting nearer things now. These + two young men—we will not call them hard names—are suffering + from an excess of patriotic zeal. They didn’t come and sit down on a camp + stool and sketch obsolete forts, as those others of their countrymen do + when they want to pose as the bland and really exceedingly ignorant + foreigner. They went about the matter with some skill. It occurred to them + that it might be interesting to their country to know what Sir William + Laureston thought about the strength of the Imperial Navy, and to what + extent his country was willing to go in maintaining their allegiance to + Great Britain. Then there was the Duke of Rosshire. They thought they’d + like to know his views as to the development of the Navy during the next + ten years. There was that little matter, too, of the French guns. It would + certainly be interesting to them to know what Monsieur le Marquis de Beau + Kunel had to say about them. These people were all invited to sit at the + hospitable board of our host here. I, however, had an inkling on the first + night of what was going on, and I was easily able to persuade those in + authority to let me play their several parts. You, sir,” Peter added, + turning to Mr. Von Tassen, “you, sir, floored me. You were not an + Englishman, and there was no appeal which I could make. I simply had to + risk you. I counted upon your not turning up. Unfortunately, you did. + Fortunately, you are the last guest. This is the seventh supper.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Von Tassen glanced around at the three men and made up his mind. + </p> + <p> + “What do you call yourself?” he asked Peter. + </p> + <p> + “The Baron de Grost,” Peter replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my friend the Baron de Grost,” Von Tassen said, “I think that you + and I had better get out of this. So I was to talk about Germany with Mr. + Van Jool, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already explained your views,” Peter declared, with twinkling + eyes. “Mr. Van Jool was delighted.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Von Tassen shook with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he exclaimed, “this is a great story! If you’re ready, Baron de + Grost, lead the way to where we can get a whiskey and soda and a chat.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Celaire came gliding out to them. + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to be left here,” she whispered, taking Peter’s arm. + </p> + <p> + Peter looked back from the door. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, Mr. Andrea Korust,” he said, “your first supper was a + success. Colonel Mayson was genuine. Our real English military aeronaut + was here, and he has disclosed to you, Maurice Korust, all that he ever + knew. Henceforth, I presume your great country will dispute with us for + the mastery of the air. + </p> + <p> + “Queer country, this!” Mr. Von Tassen remarked, pausing on the step to + light a cigar. “Seems kind of humdrum after New York, but there’s no use + talking. Things do happen over here, anyway!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. MAJOR KOSUTH’S MISSION + </h2> + <p> + His host, very fussy as he always was on the morning of his big shoot, + came bustling towards Peter, Baron de Grost, with a piece of paper in his + hand. The party of men had just descended from a large brake and were + standing about on the edge of the common, examining cartridges, smoking a + last cigarette before the business of the morning, and chatting together + over the prospects of the day’s sport. In the distance, a cloud of dust + indicated the approach of a fast traveling motor-car. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Baron,” Sir William Bounderby said, “I want you to change your + stand to-day. I must have a good man at the far corner as the birds go off + my hand from there, and Addington was missing them shockingly yesterday. + Besides, there is a new man coming on your left and I know nothing of his + shooting—nothing at all!” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere you choose to put me, Sir William,” he assented. “They came + badly for Addington yesterday, and well for me. However, I’ll do my best.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish people wouldn’t bring strangers, especially to the one shoot where + I’m keen about the bag. I told Portal he could bring his brother-in-law, + and he’s bringing this foreign fellow instead. Don’t suppose he can shoot + for nuts! Did you ever hear of him, I wonder? The Count von Hern, he calls + himself.” + </p> + <p> + The motor-car had come to a standstill by this time. From it descended Mr. + Portal himself, a large neighboring land owner, a man of culture and + travel. With him was Bernadine, in a very correct shooting suit and + Tyrolese hat. On the other side of Mr. Portal was a short, thick set man, + with olive complexion, keen black eyes, black mustache and imperial, who + was dressed in city clothes. Sir William’s eyebrows were slightly raised + as he advanced to greet the party. Peter was at once profoundly + interested. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Portal introduced his guests. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive me, I am sure, for bringing a spectator, Bounderby,” he + said. “Major Kosuth, whom I have the honor to present—Major Kosuth, + Sir William Bounderby—is high up in the diplomatic service of a + country with whom we must feel every sympathy—the young Turks. The + Count von Hern, who takes my brother-in-law’s place, is probably known to + you by name.” + </p> + <p> + Sir William welcomed his visitors cordially. + </p> + <p> + “You do not shoot, Major Kosuth?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very seldom,” the Turk answered. “I come to-day with my good friend, + Count von Hern, as a spectator, if you permit.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted,” Sir William replied. “We will find you a safe place near your + friend.” + </p> + <p> + The little party began to move toward the wood. It was just at this moment + that Bernadine felt a touch upon his shoulder, and, turning around, found + Peter by his side. + </p> + <p> + “An unexpected pleasure, my dear Count,” the latter declared, suavely. “I + had no idea that you took interest in such simple sports.” + </p> + <p> + The manners of Count von Hern were universally quoted as being almost too + perfect. It is a regrettable fact, however, that at that moment he swore—softly, + perhaps, but with distinct vehemence. A moment later he was exchanging the + most cordial of greetings with his old friend. + </p> + <p> + “You have the knack, my dear De Grost,” he remarked, “of turning up in the + most surprising places. I certainly did not know that among your many + accomplishments was included a love for field sports.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled quietly. He was a very fine shot, and knew it. + </p> + <p> + “One must amuse oneself these days,” he said. “There is little else to + do.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine bit his lip. + </p> + <p> + “My absence from this country, I fear, has robbed you of an occupation.” + </p> + <p> + “It has certainly deprived life of some of its savor,” Peter admitted, + blandly. “By the bye, will you not present me to your friend? I have the + utmost sympathy with the intrepid political party of which he is a + member.” + </p> + <p> + Von Hern performed the introduction with a reluctance which he wholly + failed to conceal. The Turk, however, had been walking on his other side, + and his hat was already lifted. Peter had purposely raised his voice. + </p> + <p> + “It gives me the greatest pleasure, Major Kosuth,” Peter said, “to welcome + you to this country. In common, I believe, with the majority of my country + people, I have the utmost respect and admiration for the movement which + you represent.” + </p> + <p> + Major Kosuth smiled slowly. His features were heavy and unexpressive. + There was something of gloom, however, in the manner of his response. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, Baron,” he replied, “and I welcome very much this + expression of your interest in my party. I believe that the hearts of your + country people are turned towards us in the same manner. I could wish that + your country’s political sympathies were as easily aroused.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine intervened promptly. + </p> + <p> + “Major Kosuth has been here only one day,” he remarked, lightly. “I tell + him that he is a little too impatient. See, we are approaching the wood. + It is as well here to refrain from conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “We will resume it later,” Peter said, softly. “I have interests in + Turkey, and it would give me great pleasure to have a talk with Major + Kosuth.” + </p> + <p> + “Financial interests?” the latter inquired, with some eagerness. + </p> + <p> + Peter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I will explain after the first drive,” he said, turning away. + </p> + <p> + Peter walked rather quickly until he reached a bend in the wood, and + overtaking his host, paused for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Lend me a loader for half an hour, Sir William,” he begged. “I have to + send my servant to the village with a telegram.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure!” Sir William answered. “There are several to spare. I’ll + send one to your stand. There’s Von Hern going the wrong way!” he + exclaimed, in a tone of annoyance. + </p> + <p> + Peter was just in time to stop the whistle from going to his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Do me another favor, Sir William,” he pleaded. “Give me time to send off + my telegram before the Count sees what I’m doing. He’s such an inquisitive + person,” he went on, noticing his host’s look of blank surprise. “Thank + you ever so much.” + </p> + <p> + Peter hurried on to his place. It was round the corner of the wood and for + the moment out of sight of the rest of the party. He tore a sheet from his + pocket-book and scribbled out a telegram. His man had disappeared and a + substitute taken his place by the time von Hern arrived. The latter was + now all amiability. It was hard to believe, from his smiling salutation, + that he and the man to whom he waved his hand in so airy a fashion had + ever declared war to the death! + </p> + <p> + The shooting began a few minutes later. Major Kosuth, from a campstool a + few yards behind his friend, watched with somewhat languid interest. He + gave one, indeed, the impression that his thoughts were far removed from + this simple country party, the main object of whose existence for the + present seemed to be the slaying of a certain number of inoffensive birds. + He watched the indifferent performance of his friend and the remarkably + fine shooting of his neighbor on the left, with the same lack-luster eye + and want of enthusiasm. The beat was scarcely over before Peter, resigning + his smoking guns, lit a cigarette and strolled across to the next stand. + He plunged at once into a conversation with Kosuth, notwithstanding + Bernadine’s ill-concealed annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “Major Kosuth,” he began, “I sympathize with you. It is a hard task for a + man whose mind is centered upon great events, to sit still and watch a + performance of this sort. Be kind to us all and remember that this + represents to us merely a few hours of relaxation. We, too, have our more + serious moments.” + </p> + <p> + “You read my thoughts well,” Major Kosuth declared. “I do not seek to + excuse them. For half a life-time we Turks have toiled and striven, always + in danger of our lives, to help forward those things which have now come + to pass. I think that our lives have become tinged with somberness and + apprehension. Now that the first step is achieved, we go forward, still + with trepidation. We need friends, Baron de Grost.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot seriously doubt but that you will find them in this country,” + Peter remarked. “There has never been a time when the English nation has + not sympathized with the cause of liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not the hearts of your people,” Major Kosuth said, “which I fear. + It is the antics of your politicians. Sympathy is a great thing, and good + to have, but Turkey to-day needs more. The heart of a nation is big, but + the number of those in whose hands it remains to give practical expression + to its promptings, is few.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine, who had stood as much as he could, seized forcibly upon his + friend. + </p> + <p> + “You must remember our bargain, Kosuth,” he insisted, “no politics to-day. + Until to-morrow evening we rest. Now I want to introduce you to a very old + friend of mine—the Lord-Lieutenant of the county.” + </p> + <p> + No man was better informed in current political affairs, but Peter, + instead of joining the cheerful afternoon tea party at the close of the + day, raked out a file of the Times from the library, and studied it + carefully in his room. There were one or two items of news concerning + which he made pencil notes. He had scarcely finished his task before a + servant brought in a dispatch. He opened it with interest and drew pencil + and paper towards him. It was from Paris, and in the code which he had + learned by heart, no written key of which existed. Carefully he transposed + it on to paper and read it through. It was dated from Paris a few hours + back. + </p> + <p> + Kosuth left for England yesterday. Envoy from new Turkish Government. + Requiring loan one million pounds. Asked for guarantee that it was not for + warlike movement against Bulgaria, declined to give same. Communicated + with English Ambassador and informed Kosuth yesterday that neither + government would sanction loan unless undertaking were given that the same + was not to be applied for war against Bulgaria. Turkey is under covenant + to enter into no financial obligations with any other Power while the + interest of former loans remains in abeyance. Kosuth has made two efforts + to obtain loan privately, from prominent English financier and French + Syndicate. Both have declined to treat on representations from government. + Kosuth was expected return direct to Turkey. If, as you say, he is in + England with Bernadine, we commend the affair to your utmost vigilance. + Germany exceedingly anxious enter into close relations with new government + of Turkey. Fear Kosuth’s association with Bernadine proof of bad faith. + Have had interview with Minister for foreign affairs, who relies upon our + help. French Secret Service at your disposal, if necessary. + </p> + <p> + Peter read the message three times with the greatest care. He was on the + point of destroying it when Violet came into the room. She was wearing a + long tea jacket of sheeny silk. Her beautiful hair was most becomingly + arranged, her figure as light and girlish as ever. She came into the room + humming gayly and swinging a gold purse upon her finger. + </p> + <p> + “Won three rubbers out of four, Peter,” she declared, “and a compliment + from the Duchess. Am I a pupil to be proud of?” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short. Her lips formed themselves into the shape of a whistle. + She knew very well the signs. Her husband’s eyes were kindling, there was + a firm set about his lips, the palm of his hand lay flat upon that sheet + of paper. + </p> + <p> + “It was true?” she murmured. “It was Bernadine who was shooting to-day?” + </p> + <p> + Peter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “He was on the next stand,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then there is something doing, of course,” Violet continued. “My dear + Peter, you may be an enigma to other people. To me you have the most + expressive countenance I ever saw. You have had a cable which you have + just transcribed. If I had been a few minutes later, I think you would + have torn up the result. As it is, I think I have come just in time to + hear all about it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled, grimly but fondly. He uncovered the sheet of paper and + placed it in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “So far,” he said, “there isn’t much to tell you. Von Hern turned up this + morning with a Major Kosuth, who was one of the leaders of the revolution + in Turkey. I wired Paris and this is the reply.” + </p> + <p> + She read the message through thoughtfully and handed it back. Peter lit a + match, and standing over the fireplace calmly destroyed it. + </p> + <p> + “A million pounds is not a great sum of money,” Violet remarked. “Why + could not Kosuth borrow it for his country from a private individual?” + </p> + <p> + “A million pounds is not a large sum to talk about,” Peter replied, “but + it is an exceedingly large sum for any one, even a multi-millionaire, to + handle in cash. And Turkey, I gather, wants it at once. Besides, + considerations which might be a security from a government, are no + security at all as applied to a private individual.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that Kosuth means to go behind the existing treaty and + borrow from Germany?” + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t quite believe that,” he said. “It would mean the straining of + diplomatic relations with both countries. It is out of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “Then where does Bernadine come in?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” Peter answered. + </p> + <p> + Violet laughed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it that you are going to try and find out?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to discover who it is that Bernadine and Kosuth are waiting + to see,” Peter replied. “The worst of it is, I daren’t leave here. I shall + have to trust to the others.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go and dress,” she said. “I’m afraid I’ve a little of your blood in + me, after all. Life seems more stirring when Bernadine is on the scene.” + </p> + <p> + The shooting party broke up two days later and Peter and his wife returned + at once to town. The former found the reports which were awaiting his + arrival disappointing. Bernadine and his guest were not in London, or if + they were they had carefully avoided all the usual haunts. Peter read his + reports over again, smoked a very long cigar alone in his study, and + finally drove down to the city and called upon his stockbroker, who was + also a personal friend. Things were flat in the city, and the latter was + glad enough to welcome an important client. He began talking the usual + market shop until his visitor stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to you, Edwardes, more for information than anything,” Peter + declared, “although it may mean that I shall need to sell a lot of stock. + Can you tell me of any private financier who could raise a loan of a + million pounds in cash within the course of a week?” + </p> + <p> + The stockbroker looked dubious. + </p> + <p> + “In cash,” he repeated. “Money isn’t raised that way, you know. I doubt + whether there are many men in the whole city of London who could put up + such an amount with only a week’s notice.” + </p> + <p> + “But there must be some one,” Peter persisted. “Think! It would probably + be a firm or a man not obtrusively English. I don’t think the Jews would + touch it, and a German citizen would be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Semi-political, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Peter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It is rather that way,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Would your friend Count von Hern be likely to be concerned in it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Peter asked, with immovable face. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, only I saw him coming out of Heseltine-Wrigge’s office the other + day,” the stockbroker remarked, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “And who is Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge?” + </p> + <p> + “A very wealthy American financier,” the stockbroker replied, “not at all + an unlikely person for a loan of the sort you mention.” + </p> + <p> + “American citizen?” Peter inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt. Of German descent, I should say, but nothing much left + of it in his appearance. He settled over here in a huff because New York + society wouldn’t receive his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember all about it,” Peter declared. “She was a chorus girl, wasn’t + she? Nothing particular against her, but the fellow had no tact. Do you + know him, Edwardes?” + </p> + <p> + “Slightly,” the stockbroker answered. + </p> + <p> + “Give me a letter to him,” Peter said. “Give my credit as good a leg as + you can. I shall probably go as a borrower.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Edwardes wrote a few lines and handed them to his client. + </p> + <p> + “Office is nearly opposite,” he remarked. “Wish you luck, whatever your + scheme is.” + </p> + <p> + Peter crossed the street and entered the building which his friend had + pointed out. He ascended in the lift to the third floor, knocked at the + door which bore Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge’s name, and almost ran into the arms + of a charmingly dressed little lady, who was being shown out by a + broad-shouldered, typical American. Peter hastened to apologize. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said, raising his hat. “I was rather in a hurry + and I quite thought I heard some one say ‘Come in.’” + </p> + <p> + The lady replied pleasantly. Her companion, who was carrying his hat in + his hand, paused reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you want to see me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “If you are Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge, I did,” Peter admitted. “I am the Baron + de Grost, and I have a letter of introduction to you from Mr. Edwardes.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge tore open the envelope and glanced through the + contents of the note. Peter, meanwhile, looked at his wife with genuine + but respectfully cloaked admiration. The lady obviously returned his + interest. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if you’re the Baron de Grost,” she exclaimed, “didn’t you marry Vi + Brown? She used to be at the Gaiety with me, years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly did marry Violet Brown,” Peter confessed, “and, if you will + allow me to say so, Mrs. Heseltine-Wrigge, I should have recognized you + anywhere from your photographs.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, isn’t that queer?” the little lady remarked, turning to her husband. + “I should love to see Vi again.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will give me your address,” Peter declared, promptly, “my wife + will be delighted to call upon you.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked up from the note. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to talk business with me, Baron?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “For a few moments only,” Peter answered. “I am afraid I am a great + nuisance, and if you wish it I will come down to the city again.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge replied. “Myra won’t mind waiting + a minute or two. Come through here.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and led the way into a quiet-looking suite of offices, where one + or two clerks were engaged writing at open desks. They all three passed + into an inner room. + </p> + <p> + “Any objections to my wife coming in?” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge asked. + “there’s scarcely any place for her out there.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted,” Peter answered. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Remember we have to meet the Count von Hern at half past one at Prince’s, + Charles,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + Her husband nodded. There was nothing in Peter’s expression to denote that + he had already achieved the first object of his visit! + </p> + <p> + “I shall not detain you,” he said. “Your name has been mentioned to me, + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge, as a financier likely to have a large sum of money + at his disposal. I have a scheme which needs money. Providing the security + is unexceptionable, are you in a position to do a deal?” + </p> + <p> + “How much do you want?” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge asked. + </p> + <p> + “A million to a million and a half,” Peter answered. + </p> + <p> + “Dollars? + </p> + <p> + “Pounds.” + </p> + <p> + It was not Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge’s pose to appear surprised. Nevertheless, + his eyebrows were slightly raised. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what is this scheme?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” Peter replied, “I should like to know whether there’s any + chance of business if I disclose it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not an atom,” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge declared. “I have just committed + myself to the biggest financial transaction of my life and it will clean + me out.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I won’t waste your time,” Peter announced, rising. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down for a moment,” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge invited, biting the end off + a cigar and passing the box toward Peter. “That’s all right. My wife + doesn’t mind. Say, it strikes me as rather a curious thing that you should + come in here and talk about a million and a half, when that’s just the + amount concerned in my other little deal.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled. + </p> + <p> + “As a matter of fact, it isn’t at all queer,” he answered. “I don’t want + the money. I came to see whether you were really interested in the other + affair—the Turkish loan, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge withdrew his cigar from his mouth and looked steadily + at his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Baron,” he declared, “you’ve got a nerve!” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Peter replied. “I’m here as much in your interests as my + own.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you represent, anyway?” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge inquired. + </p> + <p> + “A company you have never heard of,” Peter replied. “Our offices are in + the underground places of the world, and we don’t run to brass plates. I + am here because I am curious about that loan. Turkey hasn’t a shadow of + security to offer you. Everything which she can pledge is pledged, to + guarantee the interest on existing loans to France and England. She is + prevented by treaty from borrowing in Germany. If you make a loan without + security, Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge, I suppose you understand your position. + The loan may be repudiated at any moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Kind of a philanthropist, aren’t you, Baron?” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge + remarked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” Peter assured him. “I know there is some tricky work + going on and I haven’t brains enough to get to the bottom of it. That’s + why I’ve come blundering in to you, and why I suppose you’ll be telling + the whole story to the Count von Hern at luncheon in an hour’s time.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge smoked in silence for a moment or two. + </p> + <p> + “This transaction of mine,” he said at last, “Isn’t one I can talk about. + I guess I’m on to what you want to know, but I simply can’t tell you. The + security is unusual, but it’s good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems so to you, beyond a doubt,” Peter replied. “Still, you have to + do with a remarkably clever young man in the Count von Hern. I don’t want + to ask you any questions you feel I ought not to, but I do wish you’d tell + me one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Go right ahead,” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge invited. “Don’t be shy.” + </p> + <p> + “What day are you concluding this affair?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully and + glanced at his diary. “Well, I’ll risk that,” he decided. “A week to-day I + hand over the coin.” + </p> + <p> + Peter drew a little breath of relief. A week was an immense time! He rose + to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “That ends our business, then, for the present,” he said. “Now I am going + to ask both of you a favor. Perhaps I have no right to, but as a man of + honor, Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge, you can take it from me that I ask it in your + interests as well as my own. Don’t tell the Count von Hern of my visit to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” he declared. “You hear, Myra?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be dumb, Baron,” she promised. “Say, when do you think Vi can come + and see me?” + </p> + <p> + Peter was guilty of snobbery. He considered it quite a justifiable weapon. + </p> + <p> + “She is at Windsor this afternoon,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “What, at the Garden-Party?” Mrs. Heseltine-Wrigge almost shrieked. + </p> + <p> + Peter nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I believe there’s some fete or other to-morrow,” he said, “but we’re + alone this evening. Why won’t you dine with us, say at the Carlton?” + </p> + <p> + “We’d love to,” the lady assented, promptly. + </p> + <p> + “At eight o’clock,” Peter said, taking his leave. + </p> + <p> + The dinner party was a great success. Mrs. Heseltine-Wrigge found herself + among the class of people with whom it was her earnest desire to become + acquainted, and her husband was well satisfied to see her keen longing for + society likely to be gratified. The subject of Peter’s call at the office + in the city was studiously ignored. It was not until the very end of the + evening, indeed, that the host of this very agreeable party was rewarded + by a single hint. It all came about in the most natural manner. They were + speaking of foreign capitals. + </p> + <p> + “I love Paris,” Mrs. Heseltine-Wrigge told her host. “Just adore it. + Charles is often there on business and I always go along.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled. There was just a chance here. + </p> + <p> + “Your husband does not often have to leave London though,” he remarked, + carelessly. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Not often enough,” she declared. “I just love getting about. Last week we + had a perfectly horrible trip, though. We started off for Belfast quite + unexpectedly, and I hated every minute of it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled inwardly, but he said never a word. His companion was already + chattering on about something else. Peter crossed the hall a few minutes + later, to speak to an acquaintance, slipped out to the telephone booth and + spoke to his servant. + </p> + <p> + “A bag and a change,” he ordered, “at Euston Station at twelve o’clock, in + time for the Irish mail. Your mistress will be home as usual.” + </p> + <p> + An hour later the dinner party broke up. Early the next morning, Peter + crossed the Irish Channel. He returned the following day and crossed again + within a few hours. In five days the affair was finished, except for the + denouement. + </p> + <p> + Peter ascended in the lift to Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge’s office the following + Thursday, calm and unruffled as usual, but nevertheless a little exultant. + It was barely half an hour since he had become finally prepared for this + interview. He was looking forward to it now with feelings of undiluted + satisfaction. Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge was in, he was told, and he was at once + admitted to his presence. The financier greeted him with a somewhat + curious smile. + </p> + <p> + “Say, this is very nice of you to look me up again!” he exclaimed. “Still + worrying about that loan, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m not worrying about that any more,” he answered, accepting one of + his host’s cigars. “The fact of it is that if it were not for me, you + would be the one who would have to do the worrying.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge stopped short in the act of lighting his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not quite on,” he remarked. “What’s the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no trouble, fortunately,” Peter replied. “Only a little + disappointment for our friends the Count von Hern and Major Kosuth. I have + brought you some information which I think will put an end to that affair + of the loan.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge sat quite still for a moment. He brows were knitted, + he showed no signs of nervousness. + </p> + <p> + “Go right on,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “The security upon which you were going to advance a million and a half to + the Turkish Government,” Peter continued, “consisted of two Dreadnoughts + and a cruiser, being built to the order of that country by Messrs. + Shepherd & Hargreaves at Belfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge admitted, quietly. “I have been up and + seen the boats. I have seen the shipbuilders, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you happen to mention to the latter,” Peter inquired, “that you were + advancing money upon those vessels?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge replied. “Kosuth wouldn’t hear of + such a thing. If the papers got wind of it, there’d be the devil to pay. + All the same, I have got an assignment from the Turkish Government.” + </p> + <p> + “Not worth the paper it’s written on,” Peter declared, blandly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge rose unsteadily to his feet. He was a strong, silent + man, but there was a queer look about his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you mean?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Briefly, this,” Peter explained. “The first payment, when these ships + were laid down, was made not by Turkey but by an emissary of the German + Government, who arranged the whole affair in Constantinople. The second + payment was due ten months ago, and not a penny has been paid. Notice was + given to the late government twice and absolutely ignored. According to + the charter, therefore, these ships reverted to the shipbuilding companies + who retained possession of the first payment as indemnity against loss. + The Count von Hern’s position was this. He represents the German + Government. You were to find a million and a half of money with the ships + as security. You also have a contract from the Count von Hern to take + those ships off your hands provided the interest on the loan became + overdue, a state of affairs which I can assure you would have happened + within the next twelve months. Practically, therefore, you were made use + of as an independent financier to provide the money with which the Turkish + Government, broadly speaking, have sold the ships to Germany. You see, + according to the charter of the shipbuilding company, these vessels cannot + be sold to any foreign government without the consent of Downing Street. + That is the reason why the affair had to be conducted in such a roundabout + manner.” + </p> + <p> + “All this is beyond me,” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge said, hoarsely. “I don’t + care a d-n who has the ships in the end so long as I get my money!” + </p> + <p> + “But you would not get your money,” Peter pointed out, “because there will + be no ships. I have had the shrewdest lawyers in the world at work upon + the charter, and there is not the slightest doubt that these vessels are, + or rather were, the entire property of Messrs. Shepherd & Hargreaves. + To-day they belong to me. I have bought them and paid two hundred thousand + pounds deposit. I can show you the receipt and all the papers.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge, said only one word, but that word was profane. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, of course, that you have lost the business,” Peter concluded, + “but surely it’s better than losing your money?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge struck the table fiercely with his fist. There was a + gray and unfamiliar look about his face. + </p> + <p> + “D-n it, the money’s gone!” he declared, hoarsely. “They changed the day. + Kosuth had to go back. I paid it twenty-four hours ago.” + </p> + <p> + Peter whistled softly. + </p> + <p> + “If only you had trusted me a little more!” he murmured. “I tried to warn + you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge snatched up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “They don’t leave till the two-twenty,” he shouted. “We’ll catch them at + the Milan. If we don’t, I’m ruined! By God, I’m ruined!” + </p> + <p> + They found Major Kosuth in the hall of the hotel. He was wearing a fur + coat and was otherwise attired for traveling. His luggage was already + being piled upon a cab. Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge wasted no words upon him. + </p> + <p> + “You and I have got to have a talk, right here and now,” he declared. + “Where’s the Count?” + </p> + <p> + Major Kosuth frowned gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you,” he said, shortly. “Our business is concluded + and I am leaving by the two-twenty train.” + </p> + <p> + “You are doing nothing of the sort,” the American answered, standing + before him, grim and threatening. + </p> + <p> + The Turk showed no sign of terror. He gripped his silver-headed cane + firmly. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that there is no one here who will prevent me.” + </p> + <p> + Peter, who saw a fracas imminent, hastily intervened. “If you will permit + me for a moment,” he said, “there is a little explanation I should perhaps + make to Major Kosuth.” + </p> + <p> + The Turk took a step towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “I have no time to listen to explanations from you or any one,” he + replied. “My cab is waiting. I depart. If Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge is not + satisfied with our transaction, I am sorry, but it is too late to alter + anything.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment it seemed as though a struggle between the two men was + inevitable. Already people were glancing at them curiously, for Mr. + Heseltine-Wrigge came of a primitive school, and he had no intention + whatever of letting his man escape. Fortunately, at that moment Count von + Hern came up and Peter at once appealed to him. + </p> + <p> + “Count,” he said, “may I beg for your good offices? My friend, Mr. + Heseltine-Wrigge here, is determined to have a few words with Major Kosuth + before he leaves. Surely this is not an unreasonable request when you + consider the magnitude of the transaction which has taken place between + them! Let me beg of you to persuade Major Kosuth to give us ten minutes. + There is plenty of time for the train, and this is not the place for a + brawl.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not take us long, Kosuth, to hear what our friend has to say,” he + remarked. “We shall be quite quiet in the smoking-room. Let us go in there + and dispose of the affair.” + </p> + <p> + The Turk turned unwillingly in the direction indicated. All four men + passed through the cafe, up some stairs, and into the small smoking-room. + The room was deserted. Peter led the way to the far corner, and standing + with his elbow leaning upon the mantelpiece, addressed them. + </p> + <p> + “The position is this,” he said. “Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge has parted with a + million and a half of his own money, a loan to the Turkish Government, on + security which is not worth a snap of the fingers.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a lie!” Major Kosuth exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Baron, you are woefully misinformed,” the Count declared. + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I am not misinformed. My friend here has parted with the + money on the security of two battleships and a cruiser, now building in + Shepherd & Hargreaves’ yard at Belfast. The two battleships and + cruiser in question belong to me. I have paid two hundred thousand pounds + on account of them, and hold the shipbuilder’s receipt.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mad!” Bernadine cried, contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head and continued. + </p> + <p> + “The battleships were laid down for the Turkish Government, and the money + with which to start them was supplied by the Secret Service of Germany. + The second installment was due ten months ago and has not been paid. The + time of grace provided for has expired. The shipbuilders, in accordance + with their charter, were consequently at liberty to dispose of the vessels + as they thought fit. On the statement of the whole of the facts to the + head of the firm, he has parted with these ships to me. I need not say + that I have a purchaser within a mile from here. It is a fancy of mine, + Count von Hern, that those ships will sail better under the British flag.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s tense silence. The face of the Turk was black with + anger. Bernadine was trembling with rage. + </p> + <p> + “This is a tissue of lies!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Peter shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “The facts are easy enough for you to prove,” he said, “and I have here,” + he added, producing a roll of papers, “copies of the various documents for + your inspection. Your scheme, of course, was simple enough. It fell + through for this one reason only. A final notice, pressing for the second + installment and stating the days of grace, was forwarded to Constantinople + about the time of the recent political troubles. The late government + ignored it. In fairness to Major Kosuth, we will believe that the present + government was ignorant of it. But the fact remains that Messrs. Shepherd + & Hargreaves became at liberty to sell those vessels, and that I have + bought them. You will have to give up that money, Major Kosuth.” + </p> + <p> + “By God, he shall!” the American muttered. + </p> + <p> + Bernadine leaned a little towards his enemy. + </p> + <p> + “You must give us a minute or two,” he insisted. “We shall not go away, I + promise you. Within five minutes you shall hear our decision.” + </p> + <p> + Peter sat down at the writing-table and commenced a letter. Mr. + Heseltine-Wrigge mounted guard over the door and stood there, a grim + figure of impatience. Before the five minutes was up, Bernadine crossed + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you, Baron,” he said, dryly. “You are either an + exceedingly lucky person or you are more of a genius than I believe. + Kosuth is even now returning his letters of credit to your friend. You are + quite right. The loan cannot stand.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sure,” Peter answered, “that you would see the matter correctly.” + </p> + <p> + “You and I,” Bernadine continued, “know very well that I don’t care a fig + about Turkey, new or old. The ships I will admit that I intended to have + for my own country. As it is, I wish you joy of them. Before they are + completed, we may be fighting in the air.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled, and, side by side with Bernadine, strolled across to + Heseltine-Wrigge, who was buttoning up a pocket-book with trembling + fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Personally,” Peter said, “I believe that the days of wars are over.” + </p> + <p> + “That may or may not be,” Bernadine answered. “One thing is very certain. + Even if the nations remain at peace, there are enmities which strike only + deeper as the years pass. I am going to take a drink now with my + disappointed friend Kosuth. If I raise my glass ‘To the Day!’ you will + understand.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled. + </p> + <p> + “My friend Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge and I are for the same destination,” he + replied, pushing open the swing door which led to the bar. “I return your + good wishes, Count. I, too, drink ‘To the Day!’” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine and Kosuth left, a few minutes afterwards. Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge, + who was feeling himself again, watched them depart with ill-concealed + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you had those fellows on toast, Baron,” he declared, admiringly. “I + couldn’t follow the whole affair, but I can see that you’re in for big + things sometimes. Remember this. If money counts at any time, I’m with + you.” + </p> + <p> + Peter clasped his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Money always counts,” he said, “and friends!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN + </h2> + <p> + Peter, Baron de Grost, glanced at the card which his butler had brought in + to him, carelessly at first, afterwards with that curious rigidity of + attention which usually denotes the setting free of a flood of memories. + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman would like to see you, sir,” the man announced. + </p> + <p> + “You can show him in at once,” Peter replied. The servant withdrew. Peter, + during those few minutes of waiting, stood with his back to the room and + his face to the window, looking out across the square, in reality seeing + nothing, completely immersed in this strange flood of memories. John Dory—Sir + John Dory now—his quondam enemy, and he, had met but seldom during + these years of their prosperity. The figure of this man, who had once + loomed so largely in his life, had gradually shrunk away into the + background. Their avoidance of each other arose, perhaps, from a sort of + instinct which was certainly no matter of ill-will. Still, the fact + remained that they had scarcely exchanged a word for years, and Peter + turned to receive his unexpected guest with a curiosity which he did not + trouble wholly to conceal. + </p> + <p> + Sir John Dory—Chief Commissioner now of Scotland Yard, a person of + weight and importance—had changed a great deal during the last few + years. His hair had become gray, his walk more dignified. There was the + briskness, however, of his best days in his carriage and in the flash of + his brown eyes. He held out his hand to his ancient foe with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Baron,” he said, “I hope you are going to say that you are glad + to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless,” Peter replied, with a good-humored grimace, “your visit is + official, I am more than glad—I am charmed. Sit down. I was just + going to take my morning cigar. You will join me? Good! Now I am ready for + the worst that can happen.” + </p> + <p> + The two men seated themselves. John Dory pulled at his cigar + appreciatively, sniffed its flavor for a moment, and then leaned forward + in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “My visit, Baron,” he announced, “is semi-official. I am here to ask you a + favor.” + </p> + <p> + “An official favor?” Peter demanded quickly. + </p> + <p> + His visitor hesitated as though he found the question hard to answer. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth,” he declared, “this call of mine is wholly an + inspiration. It does not in any way concern you personally, or your + position in this country. What that may be I do not know, except that I am + sure it is above any suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” Peter murmured. “How diplomatic you have become, my dear + friend!” + </p> + <p> + John Dory smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I am fencing about too much,” he said. “I know, of course, that + you are a member of a very powerful and wealthy French Society, whose + object and aims, so far as I know, are entirely harmless.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted to be assured that you recognize that fact,” Peter + admitted. + </p> + <p> + “I might add,” John Dory continued, “that this harmlessness—is of + recent date.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, you do seem to know a good deal,” Peter confessed. + </p> + <p> + “I find myself still fencing,” Dory declared. “A matter of habit, I + suppose. I didn’t mean to when I came. I made up my mind to tell you + simply that Guillot was in London, and to ask you if you could help me to + get rid of him.” + </p> + <p> + Peter looked thoughtfully into his companion’s face, but he did not speak. + He understood at such moments the value of silence. + </p> + <p> + “We speak together,” Dory continued softly, “as men who understand one + another. Guillot is the one criminal in Europe whom we all fear; not I + alone, mind you—it is the same in Berlin, in Petersburg, in Vienna. + He has never been caught. It is my honest belief that he never will be + caught. At the same time, wherever he arrives the thunder-clouds gather. + He leaves behind him always a trail of evil deeds.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well put,” Peter murmured. “Quite picturesque.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you help me to get rid of him?” Dory inquired. “I have my hands full + just now, as you can imagine, what with the political crisis and these + constant mass meetings. I want Guillot out of the country. If you can + manage this for me, I shall be your eternal debtor.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you imagine,” Peter asked, “that I can help you in this matter?” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. John Dory knocked the ash from his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Times have changed,” he said. “The harmlessness of your great Society, my + dear Baron, is at present admitted. But there were days—” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” Peter interrupted. “As shrewd as ever, I perceive. Do you know + anything of the object of his coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything of his plans?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You know where he is staying?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Dory answered. “He has taken a second-floor flat in Crayshaw + Mansions, Shaftesbury Avenue. As usual, he is above all petty artifices. + He has taken it under the name of Monsieur Guillot.” + </p> + <p> + “I really don’t know whether there is anything I can do,” Peter decided, + “but I will look into the matter for you, with pleasure. Perhaps I may be + able to bring a little influence to bear—indirectly, of course. If + so, it is at your service. Lady Dory is well, I trust?” + </p> + <p> + “In the best of health,” Sir John replied, accepting the hint and rising + to his feet. “I shall hear from you soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” Peter answered. “I must certainly call upon Monsieur + Guillot.” + </p> + <p> + Peter certainly wasted no time in paying his promised visit. That same + afternoon he rang the bell at the flat in Crayshaw Mansions. A typical + French butler showed him into the room where the great man sat. Monsieur + Guillot, slight, elegant, pre-eminently a dandy, was lounging upon a sofa, + being manicured by a young lady. He threw down his Petit Journal and rose + to his feet, however, at his visitor’s entrance. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Baron,” he exclaimed, “but this is charming of you! + Mademoiselle,” he added, turning to the manicurist, “you will do me the + favor of retiring for a short time. Permit me.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the door and showed her out. Then he came back to Peter. + </p> + <p> + “A visit of courtesy, Monsieur le Baron?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” Peter replied. + </p> + <p> + “It is beyond all measure charming of you,” Guillot declared, “but let me + ask you a little question. Is it peace or war?” + </p> + <p> + “It is what you choose to make it,” Peter answered. + </p> + <p> + The man threw out his hands. There was the shadow of a frown upon his pale + forehead. It was a matter for protest, this. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you come?” he demanded. “What have we in common? The Society has + expelled me. Very well, I go my own way. Why not? I am free of your + control to-day. You have no more right to interfere with my schemes than I + with yours.” + </p> + <p> + “We have the ancient right of power,” Peter said, grimly. “You were once a + prominent member of our organization, the spoilt protege of Madame, a + splendid maker, if you will, of criminal history. Those days have passed. + We offered you a pension which you have refused. It is now our turn to + speak. We require you to leave this city in twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + The face was livid with anger. He was of the fair type of Frenchman, with + deep-set eyes, and a straight, cruel mouth only partly concealed by his + golden mustache. Just now, notwithstanding the veneer of his too perfect + clothes and civilized air, the beast had leaped out. His face was like the + face of a snarling animal. + </p> + <p> + “I refuse!” he cried. “It is I who refuse! I am here on my own affairs. + What they may be is no business of yours or of any one else’s. That is my + answer to you, Baron de Grost, whether you come to me for yourself or on + behalf of the Society to which I no longer belong. That is my answer—that + and the door,” he added, pressing the bell. “If you will, we fight. If you + are wise, forget this visit as quickly as you can.” + </p> + <p> + Peter took up his hat. The man-servant was already in the room. + </p> + <p> + “We shall probably meet again before your return, Monsieur Guillot,” he + remarked. + </p> + <p> + Guillot had recovered himself. His smile was wicked, but his bow + perfection. + </p> + <p> + “To the fortunate hour, Monsieur le Baron!” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Peter drove hack to Berkeley Square, and without a moment’s hesitation + pressed the levers which set to work the whole underground machinery of + the great power which he controlled. Thenceforward, Monsieur Guillot was + surrounded with a vague army of silent watchers. They passed in and out of + his fiat, their motor cars were as fast as his in the streets, their fancy + in restaurants identical with his. Guillot moved through it all like a man + wholly unconscious of espionage, showing nothing of the murderous anger + which burned in his blood. The reports came to Peter every hour, although + there was, indeed, nothing worth chronicling. Monsieur Guillot’s visit to + London would seem, indeed, to be a visit of gallantry. He spent most of + his time with Mademoiselle Louise, the famous dancer. He was prominent at + the Empire, to watch her nightly performance, they were a noticeable + couple supping together at the Milan afterwards. Monsieur Guillot was + indeed a man of gallantry, but he had the reputation of using these + affairs to cloak his real purposes. Those who watched him, watched only + the more closely. Monsieur Guillot, who stood it very well at first, + unfortunately lost his temper. He drove in the great motor car which he + had brought with him from Paris, to Berkeley Square, and confronted Peter. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he exclaimed, though indeed the glitter in his eyes knew + nothing of friendship, “it is intolerable, this! Do you think that I do + not see through these dummy waiters, these obsequious shopmen, these + ladies who drop their eyes when I pass, these commissionaires, these + would-be acquaintances? I tell you that they irritate me, this + incompetent, futile crowd. You pit them against me! Bah! You should know + better. When I choose to disappear, I shall disappear, and no one will + follow me. When I strike, I shall strike, and no one will discover what my + will may be. You are out of date, dear Baron, with your third-rate army of + stupid spies. You succeed in one thing only—you succeed in making me + angry.” + </p> + <p> + “It is at least an achievement, that,” Peter declared. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” Monsieur Guillot admitted, fiercely. “Yet mark now the result. + I defy you, you and all of them. Look at your clock. It is five minutes to + seven. It goes well, that clock, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the correct time,” Peter said. + </p> + <p> + “Then by midnight,” Guillot continued, shaking his fist in the other’s + face, “I shall have done that thing which brought me to England and I + shall have disappeared. I shall have done it in spite of your watchers, in + spite of your spies, in spite, even, of you, Monsieur le Baron de Grost. + There is my challenge. Voila. Take it up if you will. At midnight you + shall hear me laugh. I have the honor to wish you good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Peter opened the door with his own hands. + </p> + <p> + “This is excellent,” he declared. “You are now, indeed, the Monsieur + Guillot of old. Almost you persuade me to take up your challenge.” + </p> + <p> + Guillot laughed derisively. + </p> + <p> + “As you please!” he exclaimed. “By midnight tonight!” + </p> + <p> + The challenge of Monsieur Guillot was issued precisely at four minutes + before seven. On his departure, Peter spent the next half-hour studying + certain notes and sending various telephone messages. Afterwards, he + changed his clothes at the usual time and sat down to a tete-a-tete dinner + with his wife. Three times during the course of the meal he was summoned + to the telephone, and from each call he returned more perplexed. Finally, + when the servants had left the room, he took his chair around to his + wife’s side. + </p> + <p> + “Violet,” he said, “you were asking me just now about the telephone. You + were quite right. These were not ordinary messages which I have been + receiving. I am engaged in a little matter which, I must confess, + perplexes me. I want your advice, perhaps your help.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite ready,” she answered, smiling. “It is a long time since you + gave me anything to do.” + </p> + <p> + “You have heard of Guillot?” + </p> + <p> + She reflected for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the wonderful Frenchman,” she asked, “the head of the criminal + department of the Double-Four?” + </p> + <p> + “The man who was at its head when it existed. The criminal department, as + you know, has all been done away with. The Double-Four has now no more + concern with those who break the law, save in those few instances where + great issues demand it.” + </p> + <p> + “But Monsieur Guillot still exists?” + </p> + <p> + “He not only exists,” answered Peter, “but he is here in London, a rebel + and a defiant one. Do you know who came to see me the other morning?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Sir John Dory,” Peter continued. “He came here with a request. He begged + for my help. Guillot is here, committed to some enterprise which no one + can wholly fathom. Dory has enough to do with other things, as you can + imagine, just now. Besides, I think he recognizes that Monsieur Guillot is + rather a hard nut for the ordinary English detective to crack.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” she demanded, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I join forces with Dory,” Peter admitted. “Sogrange agrees with me. + Guillot was associated with the Double-Four too long for us to have him + make scandalous history either here or in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not only seen him, but declared war against him.” + </p> + <p> + “And he?” + </p> + <p> + “Guillot is defiant,” Peter replied. “He has been here only this evening. + He mocks at me. He swears that he will bring off this enterprise, whatever + it may be, before midnight to-night, and he has defied me to stop him.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will,” she murmured, softly. + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled. The conviction in his wife’s tone was a subtle compliment + which he did not fail to appreciate. + </p> + <p> + “I have hopes,” he confessed, “and yet, let me tell you this, Violet. I + have never been more puzzled. Ask yourself, now. What enterprise is there + worthy of a man like Guillot, in which he could engage himself here in + London between now and midnight? Any ordinary theft is beneath him. The + purloining of the crown jewels, perhaps, he might consider, but I don’t + think that anything less in the way of robbery would bring him here. He + has his code and he is as vain as a peacock. Yet money is at the root of + everything he does.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he spend his time here?” Violet asked. + </p> + <p> + “He has a handsome flat in Shaftesbury Avenue,” Peter answered, “where he + lives, to all appearance, the life of an idle man of fashion. The whole of + his spare time is spent with Mademoiselle Louise, the danseuse at the + Empire. You see, it is half-past eight now. I have eleven men altogether + at work, and according to my last report he was dining with her in the + grill-room at the Milan. They have just ordered their coffee ten minutes + ago, and the car is waiting outside to take Mademoiselle to the Empire. + Guillot’s box is engaged there, as usual. If he proposes to occupy it, he + is leaving himself a very narrow margin of time to carry out any + enterprise worth speaking of.” + </p> + <p> + Violet was thoughtful for several moments. Then she crossed the room, took + up a copy of an illustrated paper, and brought it across to Peter. He + smiled as he glanced at the picture to which she pointed, and the few + lines underneath. + </p> + <p> + “It has struck you, too, then!” he exclaimed. “Good! You have answered me + exactly as I hoped. Somehow, I scarcely trusted myself. I have both cars + waiting outside. We may need them. You won’t mind coming to the Empire + with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Mind!” she laughed. “I only hope I may be in at the finish.” + </p> + <p> + “If the finish,” Peter remarked, “is of the nature which I anticipate, I + shall take particularly good care that you are not.” + </p> + <p> + The curtain was rising upon the first act of the ballet as they entered + the most popular music-hall in London and were shown to the box which + Peter had engaged. The house was full—crowded, in fact, almost to + excess. They had scarcely taken their seats when a roar of applause + announced the coming of Mademoiselle Louise. She stood for a moment to + receive her nightly ovation, a slim, beautiful creature, looking out upon + the great house with that faint, bewitching smile at the corners of her + lips, which every photographer in Europe had striven to reproduce. Then + she moved away to the music, an exquisite figure, the personification of + all that was alluring in her sex. Violet leaned forward to watch her + movements as she plunged into the first dance. Peter was occupied looking + around the house. Monsieur Guillot was there, sitting insolently forward + in his box, sleek and immaculate. He even waved his hand and bowed as he + met Peter’s eye. Somehow or other, his confidence had its effect. Peter + began to feel vaguely troubled. After all, his plans were built upon a + surmise. It was so easy for him to be wrong. No man would show his hand so + openly, unless he were sure of the game. Then his face cleared a little. + In the box adjoining Guillot’s, the figure of a solitary man was just + visible, a man who had leaned over to applaud Louise, but who was now + sitting back in the shadows. Peter recognized him at once, notwithstanding + the obscurity. This was so much to the good, at any rate. He took up his + hat. + </p> + <p> + “For a quarter of an hour you will excuse me, Violet,” he said. “Watch + Guillot. If he leaves his place, knock at the door of your own box, and + one of my men, who is outside, will come to you at once. He will know + where to find me.” + </p> + <p> + Peter hurried away, pausing for a moment in the promenade, to scribble a + line or two at the back of one of his own cards. Presently he knocked at + the door of the box adjoining Guillot’s and was instantly admitted. Violet + continued her watch. She remained alone until the curtain fell upon the + first act of the ballet. A few minutes later, Peter returned. She knew at + once that things were going well. He sank into a chair by her side. + </p> + <p> + “I have messages every five minutes,” he whispered in her ear, “and I am + venturing upon a bold stroke. There is still something about the affair, + though, which I cannot understand. You are absolutely sure that Guillot + has not moved?” + </p> + <p> + Violet pointed with her program across the house. “There he sits,” she + remarked. “He left his chair as the curtain went down, but he could + scarcely have gone out of the box, for he was back within ten seconds.” + </p> + <p> + Peter looked steadily across at the opposite box. Guillot was sitting a + little further back now, as though he no longer courted observation. + Something about his attitude puzzled the man who watched him. With a + sudden quick movement he caught up the glasses which stood by his wife’s + side. The curtain was going up for the second act, and Guillot had turned + his head. Peter held the glasses only for a moment to his eyes, and then + glanced down at the stage. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he muttered. “The man’s a genius! Violet, the small motor is + coming for you.” + </p> + <p> + He was out of the box in a single step. Violet looked after him, looked + down upon the stage and across at Guillot’s box. It was hard to + understand. + </p> + <p> + The curtain had scarcely rung up upon the second act of the ballet when a + young lady who met from all the loungers, and even from the doorkeeper + himself, the most respectful attention, issued from the stage-door at the + Empire and stepped into the large motor car which was waiting, drawn up + against the curb. The door was opened from inside and closed at once. She + held out her hands, as yet ungloved, to the man who sat back in the + corner. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” she murmured. “And I thought, indeed, that you had forsaken + me.” + </p> + <p> + He took her hands and held them tightly, but he answered only in a + whisper. He wore a sombre black cloak and a broad-brimmed black hat. A + muffler concealed the lower part of his face. She put her finger upon the + electric light, but he stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “I must not be recognized,” he said thickly. “Forgive me, Louise, if I + seem strange at first, but there is more in it than I can tell you. No one + must know that I am in London to-night. When we reach this place to which + you are taking me, and we are really alone, then we can talk. I have so + much to say.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him doubtfully. It was indeed a moment of indecision with + her. Then she began to laugh softly. + </p> + <p> + “Dear one, but you have changed!” she exclaimed, compassionately. “After + all, why not? I must not forget that things have gone so hardly with you. + It seems odd, indeed, to see you sitting there, muffled up like an old + man, afraid to show yourself. You know how foolish you are? With your + black cape and that queer hat, you are so different from all the others. + If you seek to remain unrecognized, why do you not dress as all the men + do? Any one who was suspicious would recognize you from your clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” he muttered. “I did not think of it.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned towards him. + </p> + <p> + “You will not even kiss me?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She made a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “But you are cold!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand,” he answered. “They are watching me—even + to-night they are watching me. Oh, if you only knew, Louise, how I have + longed for this hour that is to come!” + </p> + <p> + Her vanity was assuaged. She patted his hand but came no nearer. + </p> + <p> + “You are a foolish man,” she said, “very foolish.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not for you to say that,” he replied. “If I have been foolish, were + not you often the cause of my folly?” Again she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, la, la! It is always the same! It is always you men who accuse! For + that presently I shall reprove you. But now—as for now, behold, we + have arrived!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a crowded thoroughfare,” the man remarked, nervously, looking up + and down Shaftesbury Avenue. + </p> + <p> + “Stupid!” she cried, stepping out. “I do not recognize you to-night, + little one. Even your voice is different. Follow me quickly across the + pavement and up the stairs. There is only one flight. The flat I have + borrowed is on the second floor. I do not care very much that people + should recognize me either, under the circumstances. There is nothing they + love so much,” she added, with a toss of the head, “as finding an excuse + to have my picture in the paper.” + </p> + <p> + He followed her down the dim hall and up the broad, flat stairs, keeping + always some distance behind. On the first landing she drew a key from her + pocket and opened a door. It was the door of Monsieur Guillot’s + sitting-room. A round table in the middle was laid for supper. One light + alone, and that heavily shaded, was burning. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, la, la!” she exclaimed. “How I hate this darkness! Wait till I can + turn on the lights, dear friend, and then you must embrace me. It is from + outside, I believe. No, do not follow. I can find the switch for myself. + Remain where you are. I return instantly.” + </p> + <p> + She left him alone in the room, closing the door softly. In the passage + she reeled for a moment and caught at her side. She was very pale. + Guillot, coming swiftly up the steps, frowned as he saw her. + </p> + <p> + “He is there?” he demanded, harshly. + </p> + <p> + “He is there,” Louise replied, “but, indeed, I am angry with myself. See, + I am faint. It is a terrible thing, this, which I have done. He did me no + harm, that young man, except that he was stupid and heavy, and that I + never loved him. Who could love him, indeed! But, Guillot—” + </p> + <p> + He passed on, scarcely heeding her words, but she clung to his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Dear one,” she begged, “promise that you will not really hurt him. + Promise me that, or I will shriek out and call the people from the streets + here. You would not make an assassin of me? Promise!” + </p> + <p> + Guillot turned suddenly towards her and there were strange things in his + face. He pointed down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Go back, Louise,” he ordered, “back to your rooms, for your own sake. + Remember that you have left the theatre too ill to finish your + performance. You have had plenty of time already to get home. Quick! Leave + me to deal with this young man. I tell you to go.” + </p> + <p> + She retreated down the stairs, dumb, her knees shaking with fear. Guillot + entered the room, closing the door behind him. Even as he bowed to that + dark figure standing in the corner, his left hand shot forward the bolt. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he said— + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this?” the visitor interrupted, haughtily. “I am + expecting Mademoiselle Louise. I did not understand that strangers had the + right of entry into this room.” + </p> + <p> + Guillot bowed low. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he said once more, “it is a matter for my eternal regret that + I am forced to intrude even for a moment upon an assignation so romantic. + But there is a little matter which must first be settled. I have some + friends here who have a thing to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + He walked softly, with catlike tread, along by the wall to where the thick + curtains shut out the inner apartment. He caught at the thick velvet, + dragged it back, and the two rooms were suddenly flooded with light. In + the recently discovered one, two stalwart-looking men in plain clothes, + but of very unmistakable appearance, were standing waiting. Guillot + staggered back. They were strangers to him. He was like a man who looks + upon a nightmare. His eyes protruded. The words which he tried to utter, + failed him. Then, with a swift, nervous presentiment, he turned quickly + around towards the man who had been standing in the shadows. Here, too, + the unexpected had happened. It was Peter, Baron de Grost, who threw his + muffler and broad-brimmed hat upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes to eleven, I believe, Monsieur Guillot,” Peter declared. “I + win by an hour and five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Guillot said nothing for several seconds. After all, though, he had great + gifts. He recovered alike his power of speech and his composure. + </p> + <p> + “These gentlemen,” he said, pointing with his left hand towards the inner + room—“I do not understand their presence in my apartments.” + </p> + <p> + Peter shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “They represent, I am afraid, the obvious end of things,” he explained. + “You have given me a run for my money, I confess. A Monsieur Guillot who + is remarkably like you, still occupies your box at the Empire, and + Mademoiselle Jeanne Lemere, the accomplished understudy of the lady who + has just left us, is sufficiently like the incomparable Louise to escape, + perhaps, detection for the first few minutes. But you gave the game away a + little, my dear Guillot, when you allowed your quarry to come and gaze + even from the shadows of his box at the woman he adored.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is—he?” Guillot faltered. + </p> + <p> + “He is on his way back to his country home,” Peter replied. “I think that + he will be cured of his infatuation for Mademoiselle. The assassins whom + you planted in that room are by this time in Bow Street. The price which + others beside you knew, my dear Guillot, was placed upon that unfortunate + young head, will not pass this time into your pocket. For the rest—” + </p> + <p> + “The rest is of no consequence,” Guillot interrupted, bowing. “I admit + that I am vanquished. As for those gentlemen there,” he added, waving his + hand towards the two men who had taken a step forward, “I have a little + oath which is sacred to me concerning them. I take the liberty, therefore, + to admit myself defeated, Monsieur le Baron, and to take my leave.” + </p> + <p> + No one was quick enough to interfere. They had only a glimpse of him as he + stood there with the revolver pressed to his temple, an impression of a + sharp report, of Guillot staggering back as the revolver slipped from his + fingers on to the floor. Even his death cry was stifled. They carried him + away without any fuss, and Peter was just in time, after all, to see the + finish of the second act of the ballet. The sham Monsieur Guillot still + smirked at the sham Louise, but the box by his side was empty. + </p> + <p> + “It is over?” Violet asked, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “It is over,” Peter answered. + </p> + <p> + It was, after all, an unrecorded tragedy. In an obscure corner of the + morning papers one learned the next day that a Frenchman, who had + apparently come to the end of his means, had committed suicide in a + furnished flat of Shaftesbury Avenue. Two foreigners were deported without + having been brought up for trial, for being suspected persons. A little + languid interest was aroused at the inquest when one of the witnesses + deposed to the deceased’s having been a famous French criminal. Nothing + further transpired, however, and the readers of the halfpenny press for + once were deprived of their sensation. For the rest, Peter received, with + much satisfaction, a remarkably handsome signet ring, bearing some famous + arms, and a telegram from Sogrange: “Well done, Baron! May the successful + termination of your enterprise nerve you for the greater undertaking which + is close at hand. I leave for London by the night train. Sogrange.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE GHOSTS OF HAVANA HARBOR + </h2> + <p> + “We may now,” Sogrange remarked, buttoning up his ulster, and stretching + himself out to the full extent of his steamer chair, “consider ourselves + at sea. I trust, my friend, that you are feeling quite comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Peter, lying at his ease upon a neighboring chair, with a pillow behind + his head, a huge fur coat around his body, and a rug over his feet, had + all the appearance of being very comfortable indeed. His reply, however, + was a little short—almost peevish. + </p> + <p> + “I am comfortable enough for the present, thank you. Heaven knows how long + it will last!” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange waved his arms towards the great uneasy plain of blue sea, the + showers of foam leaping into the sunlight, away beyond the disappearing + coast of France. + </p> + <p> + “Last!” he repeated. “For eight days, I hope. Consider, my dear Baron! + What could be more refreshing, more stimulating to our jaded nerves than + this? Think of the December fogs you have left behind, the cold, driving + rain, the puddles in the street, the gray skies—London, in short, at + her ugliest and worst.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all very well,” Peter protested, “but I have left several other + things behind, too.” + </p> + <p> + “As, for instance?” Sogrange inquired, genially. + </p> + <p> + “My wife,” Peter informed him. “Violet objects very much to these abrupt + separations. This week, too, I was shooting at Saxthorpe, and I had also + several other engagements of a pleasant nature. Besides, I have reached + that age when I find it disconcerting to be called out of bed in the + middle of the night to answer a long distance telephone call, and told to + embark on a White Star liner leaving Liverpool early the next morning. It + may be your idea of a pleasure trip. It isn’t mine.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange was amused. His smile, however, was hidden. Only the tip of his + cigarette was visible. + </p> + <p> + “Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing much, except that I am always seasick,” Peter replied + deliberately. “I can feel it coming on now. I wish that fellow would keep + away with his beastly mutton broth. The whole ship seems to smell of it.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange laughed, softly but without disguise. + </p> + <p> + “Who said anything about a pleasure trip?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Peter turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “You did. You told me when you came on at Cherbourg that you had to go to + New York to look after some property there, that things were very quiet in + London, and that you hated traveling alone. Therefore, you sent for me at + a few hours’ notice.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that what I told you?” Sogrange murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Wasn’t it true?” Peter asked, suddenly alert. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word of it,” Sogrange admitted. “It is quite amazing that you + should have believed it for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I was a fool,” Peter confessed. “You see, I was tired and a little cross. + Besides, somehow or other, I never associated a trip to America with—” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange interrupted him quietly, but ruthlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Lift up the label attached to the chair next to yours. Read it out to + me.” + </p> + <p> + Peter took it into his hand and turned it over. A quick exclamation + escaped him. + </p> + <p> + “Great Heavens! The Count von Hern—Bernadine!” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” Sogrange assented. “Nice clear writing, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Peter sat bolt upright in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that Bernadine is on board?” Sogrange shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “By the exercise, my dear Baron,” he said, “of a superlative amount of + ingenuity, I was able to prevent that misfortune. Now lean over and read + the label on the next chair.” + </p> + <p> + Peter obeyed. His manner had acquired a new briskness. “La Duchesse della + Nermino,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Everything just as it should be,” he declared. “Change those labels, my + friend, as quickly as you can.” + </p> + <p> + Peter’s fingers were nimble and the thing was done in a few seconds. + </p> + <p> + “So I am to sit next the Spanish lady,” he remarked, feeling for his tie. + </p> + <p> + “Not only that, but you are to make friends with her,” Sogrange replied. + “You are to be your captivating self, Baron. The Duchesse is to forget her + weakness for hot rooms. She is to develop a taste for sea air and your + society.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she,” Peter asked, anxiously, “old or young?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange showed a disposition to fence with the question. “Not old,” he + answered; “certainly not old. Fifteen years ago she was considered to be + one of the most beautiful women in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “The ladies of Spain,” Peter remarked, with a sigh, “are inclined to + mature early.” + </p> + <p> + “In some cases,” Sogrange assured him, “there are no women in the world + who preserve their good looks longer. You shall judge, my friend. Madame + comes! How about that sea-sickness now?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone,” Peter declared, briskly. “Absolutely a fancy of mine. Never felt + better in my life.” + </p> + <p> + An imposing little procession approached along the deck. There was the + deck steward leading the way; a very smart French maid carrying a + wonderful collection of wraps, cushions and books; a black-browed, pallid + man-servant, holding a hot water bottle in his hand, and leading a tiny + Pekinese spaniel, wrapped in a sealskin coat; and finally Madame la + Duchesse. It was so obviously a procession intended to impress, that + neither Peter nor Sogrange thought it worth while to conceal their + interest. + </p> + <p> + The Duchesse, save that she was tall and wrapped in magnificent furs, + presented a somewhat mysterious appearance. Her features were entirely + obscured by an unusually thick veil of black lace, and the voluminous + nature of her outer garments only permitted a suspicion as to her figure, + which was, at that time, at once the despair and the triumph of her + corsetiere. With both hands she was holding her fur-lined skirts from + contact with the deck, disclosing at the same time remarkably shapely feet + encased in trim patent shoes with plain silver buckles, and a little more + black silk stocking than seemed absolutely necessary. The deck steward, + after a half-puzzled scrutiny of the labels, let down the chair next to + the two men. The Duchesse contemplated her prospective neighbors with some + curiosity, mingled with a certain amount of hesitation. It was at that + moment that Sogrange, shaking away his rug, rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Madame la Duchesse permits me to remind her of my existence?” he said, + bowing low. “It is some years since we met, but I had the honor of a dance + at the Palace in Madrid.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand at once, yet somehow Peter felt sure that she was + thankful for her veil. Her voice was pleasant, and her air the air of a + great lady. She spoke French with the soft, sibilant intonation of the + Spaniard. + </p> + <p> + “I remember the occasion perfectly, Marquis,” she admitted. “Your sister + and I once shared a villa in Mentone.” + </p> + <p> + “I am flattered by your recollection, Duchesse,” Sogrange murmured. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great surprise to meet with you here, though,” she continued. “I + did not see you at Cherbourg or on the train.” + </p> + <p> + “I motored from Paris,” Sogrange explained, “and arrived, contrary to my + custom, I must confess, somewhat early. Will you permit that I introduce + an acquaintance, whom I have been fortunate enough to find on board—Monsieur + le Baron de Grost—Madame la Duchesse della Nermino.” + </p> + <p> + Peter was graciously received and the conversation dealt, for a few + moments, with the usual banalities of the voyage. Then followed the + business of settling the Duchesse in her place. When she was really + installed, and surrounded with all the paraphernalia of a great and + fanciful lady, including a handful of long cigarettes, she raised for the + first time her veil. Peter, who was at the moment engaged in conversation + with her, was a little shocked by the result. Her features were worn, her + face dead-white, with many signs of the ravages wrought by the constant + use of cosmetics. Only her eyes had retained something of their former + splendor. These latter were almost violet in color, deep-set, with dark + rims, and were sufficient almost in themselves to make one forget for a + moment the less prepossessing details of her appearance. A small library + of books was by her side, but after a while she no longer pretended any + interest in them. She was a born conversationalist, a creature of her + country entirely and absolutely feminine, to whom the subtle and + flattering deference of the other sex was the breath of life itself. Peter + burned his homage upon her altar with a craft which amounted to genius. In + less than half an hour, Madame la Duchesse was looking many years younger. + The vague look of apprehension had passed from her face. Their voices had + sunk to a confidential undertone, punctuated often by the music of her + laughter. Sogrange, with a murmured word of apology, had slipped away long + ago. Decidedly, for an Englishman, Peter was something of a marvel! + </p> + <p> + Madame la Duchesse moved her head towards the empty chair. + </p> + <p> + “He is a great friend of yours—the Marquis de Sogrange?” she asked, + with a certain inflection in her tone which Peter was not slow to notice. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed no!” he answered. “A few years ago I was frequently in Paris. I + made his acquaintance then, but we have met very seldom since.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not traveling together, then?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means. I recognized him only as he boarded the steamer at + Cherbourg.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not a popular man in our world,” she remarked. “One speaks of him + as a schemer.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything left to scheme for in France?” Peter asked, carelessly. + “He is, perhaps, a monarchist?” + </p> + <p> + “His ancestry alone would compel a devoted allegiance to royalism,” the + Duchesse declared, “but I do not think that he is interested in any of + these futile plots to reinstate the House of Orleans. I, Monsieur le + Baron, am Spanish.” + </p> + <p> + “I have scarcely lived so far out of the world as to have heard nothing of + the Duchesse della Nermino,” Peter replied with empressement. “The last + time I saw you, Duchesse, you were in the suite of the Infanta.” + </p> + <p> + “Like all Englishmen, I see you possess a memory,” she said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Duchesse,” Peter answered, lowering his voice, “without the memories + which one is fortunate enough to collect as one passes along, life would + be a dreary place. The most beautiful things in the world cannot remain + always with us. It is well, then, that the shadow of them can be recalled + to us in the shape of dreams.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes rewarded him for his gallantry. Peter felt that he was doing very + well indeed. He indulged himself in a brief silence. Presently she + returned to the subject of Sogrange. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she remarked, “that of all the men in the world I expected + least to see the Marquis de Sogrange on board a steamer bound for New + York. What can a man of his type find to amuse him in the New World?” + </p> + <p> + “One wonders, indeed,” Peter assented. “As a matter of fact, I did read in + a newspaper a few days ago that he was going to Mexico in connection with + some excavations there. He spoke to me of it just now. They seem to have + discovered a ruined temple of the Incas, or something of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchesse breathed what sounded very much like a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten,” she admitted, “that New York itself need not + necessarily be his destination.” + </p> + <p> + “For my own part,” Peter continued, “it is quite amazing, the interest + which the evening papers always take in the movements of one connected + ever so slightly with their world. I think that a dozen newspapers have + told their readers the exact amount of money I am going to lend or borrow + in New York, the stocks I am going to bull or bear, the mines I am going + to purchase. My presence on an American steamer is accounted for by the + journalists a dozen times over. Yours, Duchesse, if one might say so + without appearing over curious, seems the most inexplicable. What + attraction can America possibly have for you?” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him covertly from under her sleepy eyelids. Peter’s face + was like the face of a child. + </p> + <p> + “You do not, perhaps, know,” she said, “that I was born in Cuba. I lived + there, in fact, for many years. I still have estates in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” he answered. “Are you interested, then, in this reported salvage + of the Maine?” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. Peter, who had not been looking at her when he + had asked his question, turned his head, surprised at her lack of + response. His heart gave a little jump. The Duchesse had all the + appearance of a woman on the point of fainting. One hand was holding a + scent bottle to her nose; the other, thin and white, ablaze with emeralds + and diamonds, was gripping the side of her chair. Her expression was one + of blank terror. Peter felt a shiver chill his own blood at the things he + saw in her face. He himself was confused, apologetic, yet absolutely + without understanding. His thoughts reverted at first to his own + commonplace malady. + </p> + <p> + “You are ill, Duchesse!” he exclaimed. “You will allow me to call the deck + steward? Or perhaps you would prefer your own maid? I have some brandy in + this flask.” + </p> + <p> + He had thrown off his rug, but her imperious gesture kept him seated. She + was looking at him with an intentness which was almost tragical. + </p> + <p> + “What made you ask me that question?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + His innocence was entirely apparent. Not even Peter could have dissembled + so naturally. + </p> + <p> + “That question?” he repeated, vaguely. “You mean about the Maine? It was + the idlest chance, Duchesse, I assure you. I saw something about it in the + paper yesterday and it seemed interesting. But if I had had the slightest + idea that the subject was distasteful to you, I would not have dreamed of + mentioning it. Even now—I do not understand—” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him. All the time he had been speaking she had shown signs + of recovery. She was smiling now, faintly and with obvious effort, but + still smiling. + </p> + <p> + “It is altogether my own fault, Baron,” she admitted, graciously. “Please + forgive my little fit of emotion. The subject is a very sore one among my + countrypeople, and your sudden mention of it upset me. It was very + foolish.” + </p> + <p> + “Duchesse, I was a clumsy idiot!” Peter declared, penitently. “I deserve + that you should be unkind to me for the rest of the voyage.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not afford that,” she answered, forcing another smile. “I am + relying too much upon you for companionship. Ah! could I trouble you?” she + added. “For the moment I need my maid. She passes there.” + </p> + <p> + Peter sprang up and called the young woman, who was slowly pacing the + deck. He himself did not at once return to his place. He went instead in + search of Sogrange, and found him in his stateroom. Sogrange was lying + upon a couch, in a silk smoking suit, with a French novel in his hand and + an air of contentment which was almost fatuous. He laid down the volume at + Peter’s entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Baron,” he murmured, “why this haste! No one is ever in a hurry upon + a steamer. Remember that we can’t possibly get anywhere in less than eight + days, and there is no task in the world, nowadays, which cannot be + accomplished in that time. To hurry is a needless waste of tissue, and, to + a person of my nervous temperament, exceedingly unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + Peter sat down on the edge of the bunk. + </p> + <p> + “I presume you have quite finished?” he said. “If so, listen to me. I am + moving in the dark. Is it my fault that I blunder? By the merest accident + I have already committed a hideous faux pas. You ought to have warned me.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I have spoken to the Duchesse of the Maine disaster.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of Sogrange gleamed for a moment, but he lay perfectly still. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. “A good many people are talking about it. It is one + of the strangest things I have ever heard of, that after all these years + they should be trying to salve the wreck.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems worse than strange,” Peter declared. “What can be the use of + trying to stir up bitter feelings between two nations who have fought + their battles and buried the hatchet? I call it an act of insanity.” + </p> + <p> + A bugle rang. Sogrange yawned and sat up. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind touching the bell for my servant, Baron,” he asked. + “Dinner will be served in half an hour. Afterwards, we will talk, you and + I.” + </p> + <p> + Peter turned away, not wholly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “The sooner, the better,” he grumbled, “or I shall be putting my foot into + it again.”... + </p> + <p> + After dinner, the two men walked on deck together. The night was dark but + fine, with a strong wind blowing from the northwest. The deck steward + called their attention to a long line of lights, stealing up from the + horizon on their starboard side. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the Lusitania, sir. She’ll be up to us in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + They leaned over the rail. Soon the blue fires began to play about their + mast head. Sogrange watched them thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “If one could only read those messages,” he remarked, with a sigh, “it + might help us.” + </p> + <p> + Peter knocked the ash from his cigar and was silent for a time. He was + beginning to understand the situation. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he said at last, “I have been doing you an injustice. I have + come to the conclusion that you are not keeping me in ignorance of the + vital facts connected with our visit to America, willfully. At the present + moment you know just a little more, but a very little more than I do.” + </p> + <p> + “What perception!” Sogrange murmured. “My dear Baron, sometimes you amaze + me. You are absolutely right. I have some pieces and I am convinced that + they would form a puzzle the solution of which would be interesting to us, + but how or where they fit in, I frankly don’t know. You have the facts so + far.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” Peter replied. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard of Sirdeller?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the Sirdeller?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. I mean the man whose very movements sway the money markets of + the world, the man who could, if he chose, ruin any nation, make war + impossible; who could if he had ten more years of life and was allowed to + live, draw to himself and his own following the entire wealth of the + universe.” + </p> + <p> + “Very eloquent,” Peter remarked. “We’ll take the rest for granted.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” Sogrange continued, “you have probably also heard of Don Pedro, + Prince of Marsine, one time Pretender to the Throne of Spain?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a striking figure in European politics,” Peter assented, quickly. + “He is suspected of radical proclivities, and is still, it is rumored, an + active plotter against the existing monarchy.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Sogrange said. “Now listen carefully. Four months ago, + Sirdeller was living at the Golden Villa, near Nice. He was visited more + than once by Marsine, introduced by the Count von Hern. The result of + those visits was a long series of cablegrams to certain great engineering + firms in America. Almost immediately, the salvage of the Maine was + started. It is a matter of common report that the entire cost of these + works is being undertaken by Sirdeller.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” Peter murmured, “you are really beginning to interest me.” + </p> + <p> + “This week,” Sogrange went on, “it is expected that the result of the + salvage works will be made known. That is to say, it is highly possible + that the question of whether the Maine was blown up from outside or + inside, will be settled once and for all. This week, mind, Baron. Now see + what happens. Sirdeller returns to America. The Count von Hern and Prince + Marsine come to America. The Duchesse della Nermino comes to America. The + Duchesse, Sirdeller and Marsine are upon this steamer. The Count von Hern + travels by the Lusitania only because it was reported that Sirdeller at + the last minute changed his mind and was traveling by that boat. Mix these + things up in your brain—the conjurer’s hat, let us call it,” + Sogrange concluded, laying his hand upon Peter’s arm, “Sirdeller, the + Duchesse, Von Hern, Marsine, the raising of the Maine—mix them up + and what sort of an omelette appears?” + </p> + <p> + Peter whistled softly. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder,” he said, “that you couldn’t make the pieces of the puzzle + fit. Tell me more about the Duchesse?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange considered for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The principal thing about her which links her with the present + situation,” he explained, “is that she was living in Cuba at the time of + the Maine disaster, married to a rich Cuban.” + </p> + <p> + The affair was suddenly illuminated by the searchlight of romance. Peter, + for the first time, saw not the light, but the possibility of it. + </p> + <p> + “Marsine has been living in Germany, has he not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is a personal friend of the Kaiser,” Sogrange replied. + </p> + <p> + They both looked up and listened to the crackling of the electricity above + their heads. + </p> + <p> + “I expect Bernadine is a little annoyed,” Peter remarked. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t pleasant to be out of the party,” Sogrange agreed. “Nearly + everybody, however, believed at the last moment that Sirdeller had + transferred his passage to the Lusitania.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s going to cost him an awful lot in marconigrams,” Peter said. “By the + bye, wouldn’t it have been better for us to have traveled separately, and + incognito?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange shrugged his shoulders slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Von Hern has at least one man on board,” he replied. “I do not think that + we could possibly have escaped observation. Besides, I rather imagine that + any move we are able to make in this matter must come before we reach Fire + Island.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any theory at all?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not the ghost of a one,” Sogrange admitted. “One more fact, though, I + forgot to mention. You may find it important. The Duchesse comes entirely + against Von Hern’s wishes. They have been on intimate terms for years, but + for some reason or other he was exceedingly anxious that she should not + take this voyage. She, on the other hand, seemed to have some equally + strong reason for coming. The most useful piece of advice I could give you + would be to cultivate her acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “The Duchesse—” + </p> + <p> + Peter never finished his sentence. His companion drew him suddenly back + into the shadow of a lifeboat. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” + </p> + <p> + A door had opened from lower down the deck, and a curious little + procession was coming towards them. A man, burly and broad-shouldered, who + had the air of a professional bully, walked by himself ahead. Two others + of similar build walked a few steps behind. And between them a thin, + insignificant figure, wrapped in an immense fur coat and using a strong + walking stick, came slowly along the deck. It was like a procession of + prison warders guarding a murderer, or perhaps a nerve-racked royal + personage moving the end of his days in the midst of enemies. With halting + steps the little old man came shambling along. He looked neither to the + left nor to the right. His eyes were fixed and yet unseeing, his features + were pale and bony. There was no gleam of life, not even in the stone-cold + eyes. Like some machine-made man of a new and physically degenerate age, + he took his exercise under the eye of his doctor, a strange and + miserable-looking object. + </p> + <p> + “There goes Sirdeller,” Sogrange whispered. “Look at him—the man + whose might is greater than any emperor’s. There is no haven in the + universe to which he does not hold the key. Look at him—master of + the world!” + </p> + <p> + Peter shivered. There was something depressing in the sight of that + mournful procession. + </p> + <p> + “He neither smokes nor drinks,” Sogrange continued. “Women, as a sex, do + not exist for him. His religion is a doubting Calvinism. He has a doctor + and a clergyman always by his side to inject life and hope if they can. + Look at him well, my friend. He represents a great moral lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks!” Peter replied. “I am going to take the taste of him out of my + mouth with a whiskey and soda. Afterwards, I’m for the Duchesse.” + </p> + <p> + But the Duchesse, apparently, was not for Peter. He found her in the + music-room with several of the little Marconi missives spread out before + her, and she cut him dead. Peter, however, was a brave man, and skilled at + the game of bluff. So he stopped by her side and without any preamble + addressed her. + </p> + <p> + “Duchesse,” he said, “you are a woman of perceptions. Which do you + believe, then, in your heart to be the more trustworthy—the Count + von Hern or I?” + </p> + <p> + She simply stared at him. He continued promptly. + </p> + <p> + “You have received your warning, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “From whom?” + </p> + <p> + “From the Count von Hern. Why believe what he says? He may be a friend of + yours—he may be a dear friend—but in your heart you know that + he is both unscrupulous and selfish. Why accept his word and distrust me? + I, at least, am honest.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Honest?” she repeated. “Whose word have I for that save your own? And + what concern is it of mine if you possess every one of the bourgeois + qualities in the world? You are presuming, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend Sogrange will tell you that I am to be trusted,” Peter + persisted. + </p> + <p> + “I see no reason why I should trouble myself about your personal + characteristics,” she replied, coldly. “They do not interest me.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, Duchesse,” Peter continued, fencing wildly, “you have + never in your life been more in need of any one’s services than you are of + mine.” + </p> + <p> + The conflict was uneven. The Duchesse was a nervous, highly strung woman. + The calm assurance of Peter’s manner oppressed her with a sense of his + mastery. She sank back upon the couch from which she had arisen. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would tell me what you mean,” she said. “You have no right to + talk to me in this fashion. What have you to do with my affairs?” + </p> + <p> + “I have as much to do with them as the Count von Hem,” Peter insisted, + boldly. + </p> + <p> + “I have known the Count von Hern,” she answered, “for very many years. You + have been a shipboard acquaintance of mine for a few hours.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have known the Count von Hern for many years,” Peter asserted, + “you have found out by this time that he is an absolutely untrustworthy + person.” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing he is,” she said, “will you tell me what concern it is of + yours? Do you suppose for one moment that I am likely to discuss my + private affairs with a perfect stranger?” + </p> + <p> + “You have no private affairs,” Peter declared, sternly. “They are the + affairs of a nation.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him with a little shiver. + </p> + <p> + From that moment he felt that he was gaining ground. She looked around the + room. It was still filled, but in their corner they were almost + unobserved. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you know?” she asked in a low tone which shook with passion. + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled enigmatically. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps more, even, than you, Duchesse,” he replied. “I should like to be + your friend. You need one—you know that.” + </p> + <p> + She rose abruptly to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “For to-night it is enough,” she declared, wrapping her fur cloak around + her. “You may talk to me to-morrow, Baron. I must think. If you desire + really to be my friend, there is, perhaps, one service which I may require + of you. But to-night, no!” + </p> + <p> + Peter stood aside and allowed her to step past him. He was perfectly + content with the progress he had made. Her farewell salute was by no means + ungracious. As soon as she was out of sight, he returned to the couch + where she had been sitting. She had taken away the marconigrams, but she + had left upon the floor several copies of the New York Herald. He took + them up and read them carefully through. The last one he found + particularly interesting, so much so that he folded it up, placed it in + his coat pocket, and went off to look for Sogrange, whom he found at last + in the saloon, watching a noisy game of “Up Jenkins!” Peter sank upon the + cushioned seat by his side. + </p> + <p> + “You were right,” he remarked. “Bernadine has been busy.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I trust,” he said, “that the Duchesse is not proving faithless?” + </p> + <p> + “So far,” Peter replied, “I have kept my end up. Tomorrow will be the + test. Bernadine had filled her with caution. She thinks that I know + everything—whatever everything may be. Unless I can discover a + little more than I do now, to-morrow is going to be an exceedingly awkward + day for me.” + </p> + <p> + “There is every prospect of your acquiring a great deal of valuable + information before then,” Sogrange declared. “Sit tight, my friend. + Something is going to happen.” + </p> + <p> + On the threshold of the saloon, ushered in by one of the stewards, a tall, + powerful-looking man, with a square, well-trimmed black beard, was + standing looking around as though in search of some one. The steward + pointed out, with an unmistakable movement of his head, Peter and + Sogrange. The man approached and took the next table. + </p> + <p> + “Steward,” he directed, “bring me a glass of Vermouth and some dominoes.” + </p> + <p> + Peter’s eyes were suddenly bright. Sogrange touched his foot under the + table and whispered a word of warning. The dominoes were brought. The + newcomer arranged them as though for a game. Then he calmly withdrew the + double-four and laid it before Sogrange. + </p> + <p> + “It has been my misfortune, Marquis,” he said, “never to have made your + acquaintance, although our mutual friends are many, and I think I may say + that I have the right to claim a certain amount of consideration from you + and your associates. You know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Prince,” Sogrange replied. “I am charmed. Permit me to present + my friend, the Baron de Grost.” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer bowed and glanced a little nervously around. + </p> + <p> + “You will permit me,” he begged. “I travel incognito. I have lived so long + in England that I have permitted myself the name of an Englishman. I am + traveling under the name of Mr. James Fanshawe.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fanshawe, by all means,” Sogrange agreed. “In the meantime—” + </p> + <p> + “I claim my rights as a corresponding member of the Double-Four,” the + newcomer declared. “My friend the Count von Hern finds menace to certain + plans of ours in your presence upon this steamer. Unknown to him, I come + to you openly. I claim your aid, not your enmity.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us understand one another clearly,” Sogrange said. “You claim our aid + in what?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fanshawe glanced around the saloon and lowered his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I claim your aid towards the overthrowing of the usurping House of + Brangaza and the restoration to power in Spain of my own line.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange was silent for several moments. Peter was leaning forward in his + place, deeply interested. Decidedly, this American trip seemed destined to + lead towards events! + </p> + <p> + “Our active aid towards such an end,” Sogrange said at last, “is + impossible. The Society of the Double-Four does not interfere in the + domestic policy of other nations for the sake of individual members.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me ask you why I find you upon this steamer?” Mr. Fanshawe + demanded, in a tone of suppressed excitement. “Is it for the sea voyage + that you and your friend the Baron de Grost cross the Atlantic this + particular week, on the same steamer as myself, as Mr. Sirdeller, and—and + the Duchesse? One does not believe in such coincidences! One is driven to + conclude that it is your intention to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “The affair almost demands our interference,” Sogrange replied, smoothly. + “With every due respect to you, Prince, there are great interests involved + in this move of yours.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince was a big man, but for all his large features and bearded face + his expression was the expression of a peevish and passionate child. He + controlled himself with an effort. + </p> + <p> + “Marquis,” he said, “this is necessary—I say that it is necessary + that we conclude an alliance.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange nodded approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “It is well spoken,” he said, “but remember—the Baron de Grost + represents England and the English interests of our Society.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince of Marsine’s face was not pleasant to look upon. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me if you are an Englishman by birth, Baron,” he said, turning + towards him, “but a more interfering nation in other people’s affairs than + England has never existed in the pages of history. She must have a finger + in every pie. Bah!” + </p> + <p> + Peter leaned over from his place. + </p> + <p> + “What about Germany—Mr. Fanshawe?” he asked, with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + The Prince tugged at his beard. He was a little nonplussed. + </p> + <p> + “The Count von Hern,” he confessed, “has been a good friend to me. The + rulers of his country have always been hospitable and favorably inclined + towards my family. The whole affair is of his design. I myself could + scarcely have moved in it alone. One must reward one’s helpers. There is + no reason, however,” he added, with a meaning glance at Peter, “why other + helpers should not be admitted.” + </p> + <p> + “The reward which you offer to the Count von Hern,” Peter remarked, “is of + itself absolutely inimical to the interests of my country.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” the Prince demanded, tapping the table before him. “It is true + that within a year I am pledged to reward the Count von Hern in certain + fashion. It is not possible that you know the terms of our compact, but + from your words it is possible that you have guessed. Very well. Accept + this from me. Remain neutral now, allow this matter to proceed to its + natural conclusion, let your government address representations to me when + the time comes, adopting a bold front, and I promise that I will obey + them. It will not be my fault that I am compelled to disappoint the Count + von Hern. My seaboard would be at the mercy of your fleet. Superior force + must be obeyed.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a matter, this,” Sogrange said, “for discussion between my friend + and me. I think that you will find that we are neither of us unreasonable. + In short, Prince, I see no insuperable reason why we should not come to + terms.” + </p> + <p> + “You encourage me,” the Prince declared, in a gratified tone. “Do not + believe, Marquis, that I am actuated in this matter wholly by motives of + personal ambition. No, it is not so. A great desire has burned always in + my heart, but it is not that alone which moves me. I assure you that of my + certain knowledge Spain is honeycombed—is rotten with treason. A + revolution is a certainty. How much better that that revolution should be + conducted in a dignified manner; that I, with my reputation for democracy + which I have carefully kept before the eyes of my people, should be + elected President of the new Spanish Republic, even if it is the gold of + the American which places me there. In a year or two, what may happen who + can say? This craving for a republic is but a passing dream. Spain, at + heart, is monarchial. She will be led back to the light. It is but a short + step from the president’s chair to the throne.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange and his companion sat quite still. They avoided looking at each + other. + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing more,” the Prince continued, dropping his voice, as + if, even at that distance, he feared the man of whom he spoke. “I shall + not inform the Count von Hern of our conversation. It is not necessary, + and, between ourselves, the Count is jealous. He sends me message after + message that I remain in my stateroom, that I seek no interview with + Sirdeller, that I watch only. He is too much of the spy—the Count + von Hern. He does not understand that code of honor, relying upon which I + open my heart to you.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done your cause no harm,” Sogrange assured him, with subtle + sarcasm. “We come now to the Duchesse.” + </p> + <p> + The Prince leaned towards him. It was just at this moment that a steward + entered with a marconigram, which he presented to the Prince. The latter + tore it open, glanced it through, and gave vent to a little exclamation. + The fingers which held the missive trembled. His eyes blazed with + excitement. He was absolutely unable to control his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “My two friends,” he cried, in a tone broken with emotion, “it is you + first who shall hear the news! This message has just arrived. Sirdeller + will have received its duplicate. The final report of the works in Havana + Harbor will await us on our arrival in New York, but the substance of it + is this. The Maine was sunk by a torpedo, discharged at close quarters + underneath her magazine. Gentlemen, the House of Brangaza is ruined!” + </p> + <p> + There was a breathless silence. + </p> + <p> + “Your information is genuine?” Sogrange asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” the Prince replied. “I have been expecting this + message. I shall cable to Von Hern. We are still in communication. He may + not have heard.” + </p> + <p> + “We were about to speak of the Duchesse,” Peter reminded him. + </p> + <p> + The Prince shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Another time,” he declared. “Another time.” + </p> + <p> + He hurried away. It was already half past ten and the saloon was almost + empty. The steward came up to them. + </p> + <p> + “The saloon is being closed for the night, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on deck,” Peter suggested. + </p> + <p> + They found their way up on to the windward side of the promenade, which + was absolutely deserted. Far away in front of them now were the + disappearing lights of the Lusitania. The wind roared by as the great + steamer rose and fell on the black stretch of waters. Peter stood very + near to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Sogrange,” he said, “the affair is clear now save for one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Sirdeller’s motives?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Peter answered. “An hour ago, I came across the explanation + of these. The one thing I will tell you afterwards. Now listen. Sirdeller + came abroad last year for twelve months’ travel. He took a great house in + San Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you hear this?” Sogrange asked. + </p> + <p> + “I read the story in the New York Herald,” Peter continued. “It is grossly + exaggerated, of course, but this is the substance of it. Sirdeller and his + suite were stopped upon the Spanish frontier and treated in an abominable + fashion by the customs officers. He was forced to pay a very large sum, + unjustly I should think. He paid under protest, appealed to the + authorities, with no result. At San Sebastian he was robbed right and + left, his privacy intruded upon. In short, he took a violent dislike and + hatred to the country and every one concerned in it. He moved with his + entire suite to Nice, to the Golden Villa. There he expressed himself + freely concerning Spain and her Government. Count von Hern heard of it and + presented Marsine. The plot was, without doubt, Bernadine’s. Can’t you + imagine how he would put it? ‘A revolution,’ he would tell Sirdeller, ‘is + imminent in Spain. Here is the new President of the Republic. Money is no + more to you than water. You are a patriotic American. Have you forgotten + that a warship of your country with six hundred of her devoted citizens + was sent to the bottom by the treachery of one of this effete race? The + war was an inefficient revenge. The country still flourishes. It is for + you to avenge America. With money Marsine can establish a republic in + Spain within twenty-four hours.’ Sirdeller hesitates. He would point out + that it had never been proved that the destruction of the Maine was really + due to Spanish treachery. It is the idea of a business man which followed. + He, at his own expense, would raise the Maine. If it were true that the + explosion occurred from outside, he would find the money. You see, the + message has arrived. After all these years the sea has given up its + secret. Marsine will return to Spain with an unlimited credit behind him. + The House of Brangaza will crumble up like a pack of cards.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange looked out into the darkness. Perhaps he saw in that great black + gulf the pictures of these happenings which his companion had prophesied. + Perhaps, for a moment, he saw the panorama of a city in flames, the + passing of a great country under the thrall of these new ideas. At any + rate, he turned abruptly away from the side of the vessel, and taking + Peter’s arm, walked slowly down the deck. + </p> + <p> + “You have solved the puzzle, Baron,” he said, gravely. “Now tell me the + one thing. Your story seems to dovetail everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “The one thing,” Peter said, “is connected with the Duchesse. It was she, + of her own will, who decided to come to America. I believe that, but for + her coming, Bernadine and the Prince would have waited in their own + country. Money can flash from America to England over the wires. It does + not need to be fetched. They have still one fear. It is connected with the + Duchesse. Let me think.” + </p> + <p> + They walked up and down the deck. The lights were extinguished one by one, + except in the smoking-room. A strange breed of sailors from the lower deck + came up with mops and buckets. The wind changed its quarter and the great + ship began to roll. Peter stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I find this motion most unpleasant,” he said. “I am going to bed. + To-night I cannot think. To-morrow, I promise you, we will solve this. + Hush!” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand and drew his companion back into the shadow of a + lifeboat. A tall figure was approaching them along the deck. As he passed + the little ray of light thrown out from the smoking-room, the man’s + features were clearly visible. It was the Prince. He was walking like one + absorbed in thought. His eyes were set like a sleep-walker’s. With one + hand he gesticulated. The fingers of the other were twitching all the + time. His head was lifted to the skies. There was something in his face + which redeemed it from its disfiguring petulance. + </p> + <p> + “It is the man who dreams of power,” Peter whispered. “It is one of his + best moments, this. He forgets the vulgar means by which he intends to + rise. He thinks only of himself, the dictator, king, perhaps emperor. He + is of the breed of egoists.” + </p> + <p> + Again and again the Prince passed, manifestly unconscious even of his + whereabouts. Peter and Sogrange crept away unseen to their staterooms. + </p> + <p> + In many respects the room resembled a miniature court of justice. The + principal sitting-room of the royal suite, which was the chief glory of + the Adriatic, had been stripped of every superfluous article of furniture + or embellishment. Curtains had been removed, all evidences of luxury + disposed of. Temporarily the apartment had been transformed into a bare, + cheerless place. Seated on a high chair, with his back to the wall, was + Sirdeller. At his right hand was a small table, on which stood a glass of + milk, a phial, a stethoscope. Behind his doctor. At his left hand a + smooth-faced, silent young man—his secretary. Before him stood the + Duchesse, Peter and Sogrange. Guarding the door was one of the watchmen, + who, from his great physique, might well have been a policeman out of + livery. Sirdeller himself, in the clear light which streamed through the + large window, seemed more aged and shrunken than ever. His eyes were deep + set. No tinge of color was visible in his cheeks. His chin protruded, his + shaggy gray eyebrows gave him an unkempt appearance. He wore a black + velvet gown, a strangely cut black morning coat and trousers, felt + slippers, and his hands were clasped upon a stout ash walking-stick. He + eyed the newcomers keenly but without expression. + </p> + <p> + “The lady may sit,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He spoke almost in an undertone, as though anxious to avoid the fatigue of + words. The guardian of the door placed a chair, into which the Duchesse + subsided. Sirdeller held his right hand towards his doctor, who felt his + pulse. All the time Sirdeller watched him, his lips a little parted, a + world of hungry excitement in his eyes. The doctor closed his watch with a + snap and whispered something in Sirdeller’s ear, apparently reassuring. + </p> + <p> + “I will hear this story,” Sirdeller announced. “In two minutes every one + must leave. If it takes longer, it must remain unfinished.” + </p> + <p> + Peter spoke up briskly. + </p> + <p> + “The story is this,” he began. “You have promised to assist the Prince of + Marsine to transform Spain into a republic, providing the salvage + operations on the Maine prove that that ship was destroyed from outside. + The salvage operations have been conducted at your expense and finished. + It has been proved that the Maine was destroyed by a mine or torpedo from + the outside. Therefore, on the assumption that it was the treacherous deed + of a Spaniard or Cuban imagining himself to be a patriot, you are prepared + to carry out your undertaking and supply the Prince of Marsine with means + to overthrow the Kingdom of Spain.” + </p> + <p> + Peter paused. The figure on the chair remained motionless. No flicker of + intelligence or interest disturbed the calm of his features. It was a + silence almost unnatural. “I have brought the Duchesse here,” Peter + continued, “to tell you the truth as to the Maine disaster.” + </p> + <p> + Not even then was there the slightest alteration in those ashen gray + features. The Duchesse looked up. She had the air of one only too eager to + speak and finish. + </p> + <p> + “In those days,” she said, “I was the wife of a rich Cuban gentleman, + whose name I withhold. The American officers on board the Maine used to + visit at our house. My husband was jealous; perhaps he had cause.” + </p> + <p> + The Duchesse paused. Even though the light of tragedy and romance side by + side seemed suddenly to creep into the room, Sirdeller listened as one + come back from a dead world. + </p> + <p> + “One night,” the Duchesse went on, “my husband’s suspicions were changed + into knowledge. He came home unexpectedly. The American—the officer—I + loved him—he was there on the balcony with me. My husband said + nothing. The officer returned to the ship. That night my husband came into + my room. He bent over my bed. ‘It is not you,’ he whispered, ‘whom I shall + destroy, for the pain of death is short. Anguish of mind may live. + To-night six hundred ghosts may hang about your pillow!’” + </p> + <p> + Her voice broke. There was something grim and unnatural in that curious + stillness. Even the secretary was at last breathing a little faster. The + watchman at the door was leaning forward. Sirdeller simply moved his hand + to the doctor, who held up his finger while he felt the pulse. The beat of + his watch seemed to sound through the unnatural silence. In a minute he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “The lady may proceed,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “My husband,” the Duchesse continued, “was an officer in charge of the + Mines and Ordnance Department. He went out that night in a small boat, + after a visit to the strong house. No soul has ever seen or heard of him + since, or his boat. It is only I who know!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice died away. Sirdeller stretched out his hand and very + deliberately drank a tablespoonful or two of his milk. + </p> + <p> + “I believe the lady’s story,” he declared. “The Marsine affair is + finished. Let no one be admitted to have speech with me again upon this + subject.” + </p> + <p> + He had half turned towards his secretary. The young man bowed. The doctor + pointed towards the door. The Duchesse, Peter and Sogrange filed slowly + out. In the bright sunlight the Duchesse burst into a peal of hysterical + laughter. Even Peter felt, for a moment, unnerved. Suddenly he, too, + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that you and I had better get out of the way, + Sogrange, when the Count von Hern meets us at New York!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE AFFAIR or AN ALIEN SOCIETY + </h2> + <p> + Sogrange and Peter, Baron de Grost, standing upon the threshold of their + hotel, gazed out upon New York and liked the look of it. They had landed + from the steamer a few hours before, had already enjoyed the luxury of a + bath, a visit to an American barber’s, and a genuine cocktail. + </p> + <p> + “I see no reason,” Sogrange declared, “why we should not take a week’s + holiday.” + </p> + <p> + Peter, glancing up into the blue sky and down into the faces of the + well-dressed and beautiful women who were streaming up Fifth Avenue, was + wholly of the same mind. + </p> + <p> + “If we return by this afternoon’s steamer,” he remarked, “we shall have + Bernadine for a fellow passenger. Bernadine is annoyed with us just now. I + must confess that I should feel more at my ease with a few thousand miles + of the Atlantic between us.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it be so,” Sogrange assented. “We will explore this marvelous city. + Never,” he added, taking his companion’s arm, “did I expect to see such + women save in my own, the mistress of all cities. So chic, my dear Baron, + and such a carriage! We will lunch at one of the fashionable restaurants + and drive in the Park afterwards. First of all, however, we must take a + stroll along this wonderful Fifth Avenue.” + </p> + <p> + The two men spent a morning after their own hearts. They lunched + astonishingly well at Sherry’s and drove afterwards in Central Park. When + they returned to the hotel, Sogrange was in excellent spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I feel, my friend,” he announced, “that we are going to have a very + pleasant and, in some respects, a unique week. To meet friends and + acquaintances, everywhere, as one must do in every capital in Europe, is, + of course, pleasant, but there is a monotony about it from which one is + glad sometimes to escape. We lunch here and we promenade in the places + frequented by those of a similar station to our own, and behold! we know + no one. We are lookers on. Perhaps for a long time it might gall. For a + brief period there is a restfulness about it which pleases me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have liked,” Peter murmured, “an introduction to the lady in the + blue hat.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a gregarious animal,” Sogrange declared. “You do not understand + the pleasures of a little comparative isolation with an intellectual + companion such as myself... What the devil is the meaning of this!” + </p> + <p> + They had reached their sitting-room and upon a small round table stood a + great collection of cards and notes. Sogrange took them up helplessly, one + after the other, reading the names aloud and letting them fall through his + fingers. Some were known to him, some were not. He began to open the + notes. In effect they were all the same—what evening would the + Marquis de Sogrange and his distinguished friend care to dine, lunch, + yacht, golf, shoot, go to the opera, join a theatre party? Of what clubs + would they care to become members? What kind of hospitality would be most + acceptable? + </p> + <p> + Sogrange sank into a chair. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he exclaimed, “they all have to be answered—that + collection there! The visits have to be returned. It is magnificent, this + hospitality, but what can one do?” + </p> + <p> + Peter looked at the pile of correspondence upon which Sogrange’s inroad, + indeed, seemed to have had but little effect. + </p> + <p> + “One could engage a secretary, of course,” he suggested, doubtfully. “But + the visits! Our week’s holiday is gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Sogrange replied. “I have an idea.” + </p> + <p> + The telephone bell rang. Peter took up the receiver and listened for a + moment. He turned to Sogrange, still holding it in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You will be pleased, also, to hear,” he announced, “that there are half a + dozen reporters downstairs waiting to interview [Transcriber’s note: word + missing].” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange received the information with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Have them sent up at once,” he directed, “every one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “What, all at the same time?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “All at the same time it must be,” Sogrange answered. “Give them to + understand that it is an affair of five minutes only.” + </p> + <p> + They came trooping in. Sogrange welcomed them cordially. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, the Baron de Grost,” he explained, indicating Peter. “I am the + Marquis de Sogrange. Let us know what we can do to serve you.” + </p> + <p> + One of the men stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “Very glad to meet you, Marquis, and you, Baron,” he said. “I won’t bother + you with any introductions, but I and the company here represent the Press + of New York. We should like some information for our papers as to the + object of your visit here and the probable length of your stay.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange extended his hands. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend,” he exclaimed, “the object of our visit was, I thought, + already well known. We are on our way to Mexico. We leave to-night. My + friend the Baron is, as you know, a financier. I, too, have a little money + to invest. We are going out to meet some business acquaintances with a + view to inspecting some mining properties. That is absolutely all I can + tell you. You can understand, of course, that fuller information would be + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that’s quite natural, Marquis,” the spokesman of the reporters + replied. “We don’t like the idea of your hustling out of New York like + this, though?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “It is unavoidable,” he declared. “We are relying upon you, gentlemen, to + publish the fact, because you will see,” he added, pointing to the table, + “that we have been the recipients of a great many civilities, which it is + impossible for us to acknowledge properly. If it will give you any + pleasure to see us upon our return, you will be very welcome. In the + meantime, you will understand our haste.” + </p> + <p> + There were a few more civilities and the representatives of the Press took + their departure. Peter looked at his companion doubtfully, as Sogrange + returned from showing them out. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose this means that we have to catch to-day’s steamer, after all?” + he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” Sogrange answered. “I have a plan. We will leave for + the Southern depot, wherever it may be. Afterwards, you shall use that + wonderful skill of yours, of which I have heard so much, to effect some + slight change in our appearance. We will then go to another hotel, in + another quarter of New York, and take our week’s holiday incognito. What + do you think of that for an idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” Peter replied. “It isn’t so easy to dodge the newspapers and + the Press in this country. Besides, although I could manage myself very + well, you would be an exceedingly awkward subject. Your tall and elegant + figure, your aquiline nose, the shapeliness of your hands and feet, give + you a distinction which I should find it hard to conceal.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You are a remarkably observant fellow, Baron. I quite appreciate your + difficulty. Still, with a club foot, eh, and spectacles instead of my + eyeglass—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no doubt, something could be managed,” Peter interrupted. “You’re + really in earnest about this, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely,” Sogrange declared. “Come here!” + </p> + <p> + He drew Peter to the window. They were on the twelfth story, and to a + European there was something magnificent in that tangled mass of buildings + threaded by the elevated railway, with its screaming trains, the clearness + of the atmosphere, and in the white streets below, like polished belts + through which the swarms of people streamed like insects. + </p> + <p> + “Imagine it all lit up!” Sogrange exclaimed. “The sky-signs all ablaze, + the flashing of fire from those cable wires, the lights glittering from + those tall buildings! This is a wonderful place, Baron. We must see it. + Ring for the bill. Order one of those magnificent omnibuses. Press the + button, too, for the personage whom they call the valet. Perhaps, with a + little gentle persuasion, he could be induced to pack our clothes.” + </p> + <p> + With his finger upon the hell, Peter hesitated. He, too, loved adventures, + but the gloom of a presentiment had momentarily depressed him. + </p> + <p> + “We are marked men, remember, Sogrange,” he said. “An escapade of this + sort means a certain amount of risk, even in New York.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Bernadine caught the midday steamer! We have no enemies here that I know + of.” + </p> + <p> + Peter pressed the button. An hour or so later, the Marquis de Sogrange and + Peter, Baron de Grost, took their leave of New York. + </p> + <p> + They chose a hotel on Broadway, within a stone’s throw of Rector’s. Peter, + with whitened hair, gold-rimmed spectacles, a slouch hat and a fur coat, + passed easily enough for an English maker of electrical instruments; while + Sogrange, shabbier, and in ready-made American clothes, was transformed + into a Canadian having some connection with the theatrical business. They + plunged into the heart of New York life, and found the whole thing like a + tonic. The intense vitality of the people, the pandemonium of Broadway at + midnight, with its flaming illuminations, its eager crowd, its inimitable + restlessness, fascinated them both. Sogrange, indeed, remembering the + decadent languor of the crowds of pleasure seekers thronging his own + boulevards, was never weary of watching these men and women. They passed + from the streets to the restaurants, from the restaurants to the theatre, + out into the streets again, back to the restaurants, and once more into + the streets. Sogrange was like a glutton. The mention of bed was hateful + to him. For three days they existed without a moment’s boredom. + </p> + <p> + On the fourth evening, Peter found Sogrange deep in conversation with the + head porter. In a few minutes he led Peter away to one of the bars where + they usually took their cocktail. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he announced, “to-night I have a treat for you. So far we + have looked on at the external night life of New York. Wonderful and + thrilling it has been, too. But there is the underneath, also. Why not? + There is a vast polyglot population here, full of energy said life. A + criminal class exists as a matter of course. To-night we make our bow to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “And by what means?” Peter inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Our friend the hall-porter,” Sogrange continued, “has given me the card + of an ex-detective who will be our escort. He calls for us to-night, or + rather to-morrow morning, at one o’clock. Then behold! the wand is waved, + the land of adventures opens before us.” + </p> + <p> + Peter grunted. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to damp your enthusiasm, my Canadian friend,” he said, “but + the sort of adventures you may meet with to-night are scarcely likely to + fire your romantic nature. I know a little about what they call this + underneath world in New York. It will probably resolve itself into a visit + to Chinatown, where we shall find the usual dummies taking opium and quite + prepared to talk about it for the usual tip. After that we shall visit a + few low dancing halls, be shown the scene of several murders, and the + thing is done.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a cynic,” Sogrange declared. “You would throw cold water upon any + enterprise. Anyway, our detective is coming. We must make use of him, for + I have engaged to pay him twenty-five dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll go where you like,” Peter assented, “so long as we dine on a roof + garden. This beastly fur coat keeps me in a state of chronic + perspiration.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” Sogrange said, consolingly, “it’s most effective. A roof + garden, by all means.” + </p> + <p> + “And recollect,” Peter insisted, “I bar Chinatown. We’ve both of us seen + the real thing, and there’s nothing real about what they show you here.” + </p> + <p> + “Chinatown is erased from our program,” Sogrange agreed. “We go now to + dine. Remind me, Baron, that I inquire for those strange dishes of which + one hears Terrapin, Canvas-backed Duck, Green Corn, Strawberry Shortcake.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “How like a Frenchman,” he exclaimed, “to take no account of seasons! + Never mind, Marquis, you shall give your order and I will sketch the + waiter’s face. By the bye, if you’re in earnest about this expedition + to-night, put your revolver into your pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “But we ‘re going with an ex-detective,” Sogrange replied. + </p> + <p> + “One never knows,” Peter said, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + They dined close to the stone palisading of one of New York’s most famous + roof gardens. Sogrange ordered an immense dinner but spent most of his + time gazing downwards. They were higher up than at the hotel and they + could see across the tangled maze of lights even to the river, across + which the great ferry-boats were speeding all the while—huge + creatures of streaming fire and whistling sirens. The air where they sat + was pure and crisp. There was no fog, no smoke, to cloud the almost + crystalline clearness of the night. + </p> + <p> + “Baron,” Sogrange declared, “if I had lived in this city I should have + been a different man. No wonder the people are all conquering.” + </p> + <p> + “Too much electricity in the air for me,” Peter answered. “I like a little + repose. I can’t think where these people find it.” + </p> + <p> + “One hopes,” Sogrange murmured, “that before they progress any further in + utilitarianism, they will find some artist, one of themselves, to express + all this.” + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime,” Peter interrupted, “the waiter would like to know what + we are going to drink. I’ve eaten such a confounded jumble of things of + your ordering that I should like some champagne.” + </p> + <p> + “Who shall say that I am not generous!” Sogrange replied, taking up the + wine carte. “Champagne it shall be. We need something to nerve us for our + adventures.” + </p> + <p> + Peter leaned across the table. + </p> + <p> + “Sogrange,” he whispered, “for the last twenty-four hours I have had some + doubts as to the success of our little enterprise. It has occurred to me + more than once that we are being shadowed.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange frowned. + </p> + <p> + “I sometimes wonder,” he remarked, “how a man of your suspicious nature + ever acquired the reputation you undoubtedly enjoy.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is because of my suspicious nature,” Peter said. “There is a + man staying in our hotel whom we are beginning to see quite a great deal + of. He was talking to the head porter a few minutes before you this + afternoon. He supped at the same restaurant last night. He is dining now + three places behind you to the right, with a young lady who has been + making flagrant attempts at flirtation with me, notwithstanding my gray + hairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Your reputation, my dear Peter,” Sogrange murmured— + </p> + <p> + “As a decoy,” Peter interrupted, “the young lady’s methods are too + vigorous. She pretends to be terribly afraid of her companion, but it is + entirely obvious that she is acting on his instructions. Of course, this + may be a ruse of the reporters. On the other hand, I think it would be + wise to abandon our little expedition to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “So far as I am concerned,” he said, “I am committed to it.” + </p> + <p> + “In which case,” Peter replied, “I am certainly committed to being your + companion. The only question is whether one shall fall to the decoy and + suffer oneself to be led in the direction her companion desires, or + whether we shall go blundering into trouble on our own account with your + friend the ex-detective.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange glanced over his shoulder, leaned back in his chair for a moment, + as though to look at the stars, and finally lit a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “There is a lack of subtlety about that young person, Baron,” he declared, + “which stifles one’s suspicions. I suspect her to be merely one more + victim to your undoubted charms. In the interests of Madame your wife, I + shall take you away. The decoy shall weave her spells in vain.” + </p> + <p> + They paid their bill and departed a few minutes later. The man and the + girl were also in the act of leaving. The former seemed to be having some + dispute about the bill. The girl, standing with her back to him, scribbled + a line upon a piece of paper, and, as Peter went by, pushed it into his + hand with a little warning gesture. In the lift he opened it. The few + penciled words contained nothing but an address: Number 15, 100th Street, + East. + </p> + <p> + “Lucky man!” Sogrange sighed. + </p> + <p> + Peter made no remark, but he was thoughtful for the next hour or so. + </p> + <p> + The ex-detective proved to be an individual of fairly obvious appearance, + whose complexion and thirst indicated a very possible reason for his life + of leisure. He heard with surprise that his patrons were not inclined to + visit Chinatown, but he showed a laudable desire to fall in with their + schemes, provided always that they included a reasonable number of visits + to places where refreshment could be obtained. From first to last, the + expedition was a disappointment. They visited various smoke-hung dancing + halls, decorated for the most part with oleographs and cracked mirrors, in + which sickly-Looking young men of unwholesome aspect were dancing with + their feminine counterparts. The attitude of their guide was alone + amusing. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you want to be careful in here!” he would declare, in an awed tone, + on entering one of these tawdry palaces. “Guess this is one of the + toughest spots in New York City. You stick close to me and I’ll make + things all right.” + </p> + <p> + His method of making things all right was the same in every case. He would + form a circle of disreputable-looking youths, for whose drinks Sogrange + was called upon to pay. The attitude of these young men was more dejected + than positively vicious. They showed not the slightest signs of any desire + to make themselves unpleasant. Only once, when Sogrange incautiously + displayed a gold watch, did the eyes of one or two of their number + glisten. The ex-detective changed his place and whispered hoarsely in his + patron’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Say, don’t you flash anything of that sort about here! That young cove + right opposite to you is one of the best known sneak-thieves in the city. + You’re asking for trouble that way.” + </p> + <p> + “If he or any other of them want my watch,” Sogrange answered calmly, “let + them come and fetch it. However,” he added, buttoning up his coat, “no + doubt you are right. Is there anywhere else to take us?” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “There ain’t much that you haven’t seen,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange laughed softly as he rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “A sell, my dear friend,” he said to Peter. “This terrible city keeps its + real criminal class somewhere else rather than in the show places.” + </p> + <p> + A man who had been standing in the doorway, looking in for several + moments, strolled up to them. Peter recognized him at once and touched + Sogrange on the arm. The newcomer accosted them pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you’ll excuse my butting in,” he began, “but I can see you’re kind + of disappointed. These suckers”—indicating the ex-detective—“talk + a lot about what they’re going to show you, and when they get you round it + all amounts to nothing. This is the sort of thing they bring you to, as + representing the wickedness of New York! That’s so, Rastall, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + The ex-detective looked a little sheepish. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there ain’t much more to be seen,” he admitted. “Perhaps you’ll take + the job on if you think there is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’d show the gentlemen something of a sight more interesting that + this,” the newcomer continued. “They don’t want to sit down and drink with + the scum of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” Sogrange suggested, “this gentleman has something in his mind + which he thinks would appeal to us. We have a motor car outside and we are + out for adventures.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of adventures?” the newcomer asked, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange shrugged his shoulders lightly. + </p> + <p> + “We are lookers-on merely,” he explained. “My friend and I have traveled a + good deal. We have seen something of criminal life in Paris and London, + Vienna and Budapest. I shall not break any confidence if I tell you that + my friend is a writer, and material such as this is useful.” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he exclaimed, “in a way, it’s fortunate for you that I happened + along! You come right with me and I’ll show you something that very few + other people in this city know of. Guess you’d better pay this fellow + off,” he added, indicating the ex-detective. “He’s no more use to you.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange and Peter exchanged questioning glances. + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of you, sir,” Peter decided, “but for my part I have had + enough for one evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you like, of course,” the other remarked, with studied unconcern. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of place would it be?” Sogrange asked. + </p> + <p> + The newcomer drew them on one side, although, as a matter of fact, every + one else had already melted away. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever heard of the Secret Societies of New York?” he inquired. + “Well, I guess you haven’t, any way—not to know anything about them. + Well, then, listen. There’s a Society meets within a few steps of here, + which has more to do with regulating the criminal classes of the city than + any police establishment. There’ll be a man there within an hour or so, + who, to my knowledge, has committed seven murders. The police can’t get + him. They never will. He’s under our protection.” + </p> + <p> + “May we visit such a place as you describe without danger?” Peter asked, + calmly. + </p> + <p> + “No!” the man answered. “There’s danger in going anywhere, it seems to me, + if it’s worth while. So long as you keep a still tongue in your head and + don’t look about you too much, there’s nothing will happen to you. If you + get gassing a lot, you might tumble in for almost anything. Don’t come + unless you like. It’s a chance for your friend, as he’s a writer, but + you’d best keep out of it if you’re in any way nervous.” + </p> + <p> + “You said it was quite close?” Sogrange inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Within a yard or two,” the man replied. “It’s right this way.” + </p> + <p> + They left the hall with their new escort. When they looked for their motor + car, they found it had gone. + </p> + <p> + “It don’t do to keep them things waiting about round here,” their new + friend remarked, carelessly. “I guess I’ll send you back to your hotel all + right. Step this way.” + </p> + <p> + “By the bye, what street is this we are in?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “100th Street,” the man answered. + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a little superstitious about that number,” he declared. “Is that an + elevated railway there? I think we’ve had enough, Sogrange.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange hesitated. They were standing now in front of a tall gloomy + house, unkempt, with broken gate—a large but miserable-looking + abode. The passers-by in the street were few. The whole character of the + surroundings was squalid. The man pushed open the broken gate. + </p> + <p> + “You cross the street right there to the elevated,” he directed. “If you + ain’t coming, I’ll bid you good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Once more they hesitated. Peter, perhaps, saw more than his companion. He + saw the dark shapes lurking under the railway arch. He knew instinctively + that they were in some sort of danger. And yet the love of adventure was + on fire in his blood. His belief in himself was immense. He whispered to + Sogrange. + </p> + <p> + “I do not trust our guide,” he said. “If you care to risk it, I am with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind the broken pavement,” the man called out. “This ain’t exactly an + abode of luxury.” + </p> + <p> + They climbed some broken steps. Their guide opened a door with a Yale key. + The door swung to, after them, and they found themselves in darkness. + There had been no light in the windows; there was no light, apparently, in + the house. Their companion produced an electric torch from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You had best follow me,” he advised. “Our quarters face out the other + way. We keep this end looking a little deserted.” + </p> + <p> + They passed through a swing door and everything was at once changed. A + multitude of lamps hung from the ceiling, the floor was carpeted, the + walls clean. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t go in for electric light,” their guide explained, “as we try not + to give the place away. We manage to keep it fairly comfortable, though.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed open the door and entered a somewhat gorgeously furnished salon. + There were signs here of feminine occupation, an open piano, and the smell + of cigarettes. Once more Peter hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Your friends seem to be in hiding,” he remarked. “Personally, I am losing + my curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + “Guess you won’t have to wait very long,” the man replied, with meaning. + </p> + <p> + The room was suddenly invaded on all sides. Four doors, which were quite + hidden by the pattern of the wall, had opened almost simultaneously, and + at least a dozen men had entered. This time both Sogrange and Peter knew + that they were face to face with the real thing. These were men who came + silently in, no cigarette-stunted youths. Two of them were in evening + dress; three or four had the appearance of prize fighters. In their + countenances was one expression common to all—an air of quiet and + conscious strength. + </p> + <p> + A fair-headed man, in dinner jacket and black tie, became at once their + spokesman. He was possessed of a very slight American accent, and he + beamed at them through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, “I am glad to meet you both.” + </p> + <p> + “Very kind of you, I’m sure,” Sogrange answered. “Our friend here,” he + added, indicating their guide, “found us trying to gain a little insight + into the more interesting part of New York life. He was kind enough to + express a wish to introduce us to you.” + </p> + <p> + The man smiled. He looked very much like some studious clerk, except that + his voice seemed to ring with some latent power. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said, “that your friend’s interest in you was not + entirely unselfish. For three days he has carried in his pocket an order + instructing him to produce you here.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” Peter whispered, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “You interest me,” Sogrange replied. “May I know whom I have the honor of + addressing?” + </p> + <p> + “You can call me Burr,” the man announced, “Philip Burr. Your names it is + not our wish to know.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I do not quite understand,” Sogrange said. + </p> + <p> + “It was scarcely to be expected that you should,” Mr. Philip Burr + admitted. “All I can tell you is that, in cases like yours, I really + prefer not to know with whom I have to deal.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak as though you had business with us,” Peter remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Without doubt, I have,” the other replied, grimly. “It is my business to + see that you do not leave these premises alive.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange drew up a chair against which he had been leaning, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” he said, “that would be most inconvenient.” Peter, too, shook + his head, sitting upon the end of a sofa and folding his arms. Something + told him that the moment for fighting was not yet. + </p> + <p> + “Inconvenient or not,” Mr. Philip Burr continued, “I have orders to carry + out which I can assure you have never yet been disobeyed since the + formation of our Society. From what I can see of you, you appear to be + very amiable gentlemen, and if it would interest you to choose the method—say, + of your release—why, I can assure you we’ll do all we can to meet + your views.” + </p> + <p> + “I am beginning,” Sogrange remarked, “to feel quite at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, we’ve been through this sort of thing before,” Peter added, + blandly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Philip Burr took a cigar from his case and lit it. At a motion of his + hand, one of the company passed the box to his two guests. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not counting upon a visit from the police, or anything of that + sort, I hope?” Mr. Philip Burr asked. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” he replied. “I may say that much of the earlier portion + of my life was spent in frustrating the well-meant but impossible schemes + of that body of men.” + </p> + <p> + “If only we had a little more time,” Mr. Burr declared, “it seems to me I + should like to make the acquaintance of you two gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “The matter is entirely in your own hands,” Peter reminded him. “We are in + no hurry.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Burr smiled genially. + </p> + <p> + “You make me think better of humanity,” he confessed. “A month ago we had + a man here—got him along somehow or another—and I had to tell + him that he was up against it like you two are. My! the fuss he made! Kind + of saddened me to think a man should be such a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Some people like that,” Sogrange remarked. “By the bye, Mr. Burr, you’ll + pardon my curiosity. Whom have we to thank for our introduction here + to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know as there’s any particular harm in telling you,” Mr. Burr + replied— + </p> + <p> + “Nor any particular good,” a man who was standing by his side interrupted. + “Say, Phil, you drag these things out too much. Are there any questions + you’ve got to ask ‘em, or any property to collect?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort,” Mr. Burr admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Then let the gang get to work,” the other declared. + </p> + <p> + The two men were suddenly conscious that they were being surrounded. + Peter’s hand stole on to the butt of his revolver. Sogrange rose slowly to + his feet. His hands were thrust out in front of him with the thumbs turned + down. The four fingers of each hand flashed for a minute through the air. + Mr. Philip Burr lost all his self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Say, where the devil did you learn that trick?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange laughed scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Trick!” he exclaimed. “Philip Burr, you are unworthy of your position. I + am the Marquis de Sogrange, and my friend here is the Baron de Grost.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Philip Burr had no words. His cigar had dropped on to the carpet. He + was simply staring. + </p> + <p> + “If you need proof,” Sogrange continued, “further than any I have given + you, I have in my pocket, at the present moment, a letter, signed by you + yourself, pleading for formal reinstatement. This is how you would qualify + for it! You make use of your power to run a common decoy house, to do away + with men for money. What fool gave you our names, pray?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Philip Burr was only the wreck of a man. He could not even control his + voice. + </p> + <p> + “It was some German or Belgian nobleman,” he faltered. “He brought us + excellent letters, and he made a large contribution. It was the Count von + Hern.” + </p> + <p> + The anger of Sogrange seemed suddenly to fade away. He threw himself into + a chair by the side of his companion. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Baron,” he exclaimed, “Bernadine has scored, indeed! Your friend + has a sense of humor which overwhelms me. Imagine it. He has delivered the + two heads of our great Society into the hands of one of its cast-off + branches! Bernadine is a genius, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Philip Burr began slowly to recover himself. He waved his hand. Nine + out of the twelve men left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Marquis,” he said, “for ten years there has been no one whom I have + desired to meet so much as you. I came to Europe but you declined to + receive me. I know very well we can’t keep our end up like you over there, + because we haven’t politics and that sort of things to play with, but + we’ve done our best. We’ve encouraged only criminology of the highest + order. We’ve tried all we can to keep the profession select. The + jail-bird, pure and simple, we have cast out. The men who have suffered at + our hands have been men who have met with their deserts.” + </p> + <p> + “What about us?” Peter demanded. “It seems to me that you had most + unpleasant plans for our future.” + </p> + <p> + Philip Burr held up his hands. + </p> + <p> + “As I live,” he declared, “this is the first time that any money + consideration has induced me to break away from our principles. That Count + von Hern, he had powerful friends who were our friends, and he gave me the + word, straight, that you two had an appointment down below which was + considerably overdue. I don’t know, even now, why I consented. I guess it + isn’t much use apologizing.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I am not inclined to bear malice, but you must + understand this from me, Philip Burr. As a Society, I dissolve you. I + deprive you of your title and of your signs. Call yourself what you will, + but never again mention the name of the ‘Double-Four.’ With us in Europe, + another era has dawned. We are on the side of law and order. We protect + only criminals of a certain class, in whose operations we have faith. + There is no future for such a society in this country. Therefore, as I + say, I dissolve it. Now, if you are ready, perhaps you will be so good as + to provide us with the means of reaching our hotel.” + </p> + <p> + Philip Burr led them into a back street, where his own handsome automobile + was placed at their service. + </p> + <p> + “This kind of breaks me all up,” he declared, as he gave the instructions + to the chauffeur. “If there were two men on the face of this earth whom + I’d have been proud to meet in a friendly sort of way, it’s you two.” + </p> + <p> + “We bear no malice, Mr. Burr,” Sogrange assured him. “You can, if you will + do us the honor, lunch with us to-morrow at one o’clock at Rector’s. My + friend here is quite interested in the Count von Hern, and he would + probably like to hear exactly how this affair was arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be there, sure,” Philip Burr promised, with a farewell wave of the + hand. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange and Peter drove back towards their hotel in silence. It was only + when they emerged into the civilized part of the city that Sogrange began + to laugh softly. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he murmured, “you bluffed fairly well, but you were afraid. + Oh, how I smiled to see your fingers close round the butt of that + revolver!” + </p> + <p> + “What about you?” Peter asked, gruffly. “You don’t suppose you took me in, + do you?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I had two reasons for coming to New York,” he said. “One we accomplished + upon the steamer. The other was—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “To reply personally to this letter of Mr. Philip Burr,” Sogrange replied, + “which letter, by the bye, was dated from 15, 100th Street, New York. An + ordinary visit there would have been useless to me. Something of this sort + was necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you knew!” Peter gasped. “Notwithstanding all your bravado, you + knew!” + </p> + <p> + “I had a very fair idea,” Sogrange admitted. “Don’t be annoyed with me, my + friend. You have had a little experience. It is all useful. It isn’t the + first time you’ve looked death in the face. Adventures come to some men + unasked. You, I think, were born with the habit of them.” + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled. They had reached the hotel courtyard and he raised himself + stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a little fable about the pitcher that went once too often to the + well,” he remarked. “I have had my share of luck—more than my share. + The end must come sometime, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this superstition?” Sogrange asked. + </p> + <p> + “Superstition, pure and simple,” Peter confessed, taking his key from the + office. “It doesn’t alter anything. I am fatalist enough to shrug my + shoulders and move on. But I tell you, Sogrange,” he added, after a + moment’s pause, “I wouldn’t admit it to any one else in the world, but I + am afraid of Bernadine. I have had the best of it so often. It can’t last. + In all we’ve had twelve encounters. The next will be the thirteenth.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange shrugged his shoulders slightly as he rang for the lift. + </p> + <p> + “I’d propose you for the Thirteen Club, only there’s some uncomfortable + clause about yearly suicides which might not suit you,” he remarked. + “Good-night, and don’t dream of Bernadine and your thirteenth encounter.” + </p> + <p> + “I only hope,” Peter murmured, “that I may be in a position to dream after + it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE THIRTEENTH ENCOUNTER + </h2> + <p> + The Marquis de Sogrange arrived in Berkeley Square with the gray dawn of + an October morning, showing in his appearance and dress few enough signs + of his night journey. Yet he had traveled without stopping from Paris, by + fast motor car and the mail boat. + </p> + <p> + “They telephoned me from Charing Cross,” Peter said, “that you could not + possibly arrive until midday. The clerk assured me that no train had yet + reached Calais.” + </p> + <p> + “They had reason in what they told you,” Sogrange remarked, as he leaned + back in a chair and sipped the coffee which had been waiting for him in + the Baron de Grost’s study. “The train itself never got more than a mile + away from the Gare du Nord. The engine-driver was shot through the head + and the metals were torn from the way. Paris is within a year now of a + second and more terrible revolution.” + </p> + <p> + “You really believe this?” Peter asked, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “It is a certainty,” Sogrange replied. “Not I alone but many others can + see this clearly. Everywhere the Socialists have wormed themselves into + places of trust. They are to be met with in every rank of life, under + every form of disguise. The post-office strike has already shown us what + deplorable disasters even a skirmish can bring about. To-day the railway + strike has paralyzed France. To-day our country lies absolutely at the + mercy of any invader. As it happens, none is, for the moment, prepared. + Who can tell how it may be next time?” + </p> + <p> + “This is had news,” Peter declared. “If this is really the position of + affairs, the matter is much more serious than the newspapers would have us + believe.” + </p> + <p> + “The newspapers,” Sogrange muttered, “ignore what lies behind. Some of + them, I think, are paid to do it. As for the rest, our Press had always an + ostrich-like tendency. The Frenchman of the cafe does not buy his journal + to be made sad.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe, then,” Peter asked, “that these strikes have some definite + tendency?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange set down his cup and smiled bitterly. In the early sunlight, + still a little cold and unloving, Peter could see that there was a change + in the man. He was no longer the debonair aristocrat of the race-courses + and the boulevards. The shadows under his eyes were deeper, his cheeks + more sunken. He had lost something of the sprightliness of his bearing. + His attitude, indeed, was almost dejected. He was like a man who sees into + the future and finds there strange and gruesome things. + </p> + <p> + “I do more than believe that,” he declared. “I know it. It has fallen to + my lot to make a very definite discovery concerning them. Listen, my + friend. For more than six months the government has been trying to + discover the source of this stream of vile socialistic literature which + has contaminated the French working classes. The pamphlets have been + distributed with devilish ingenuity among all national operatives, the + army and the navy. The government has failed. The Double-Four has + succeeded.” + </p> + <p> + “You have really discovered their source?” Peter exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” Sogrange assented. “The government appealed to us first + some months ago when I was in America. For a time we had no success. Then + a clue, and the rest was easy. The navy, the army, the post-office + employees, the telegraph and telephone operators and the railway men, have + been the chief recipients of this incessant stream of foul literature. + To-day one cannot tell how much mischief has been actually done. The + strikes which have already occurred are only the mutterings of the coming + storm. But mark you, wherever those pamphlets have gone, trouble has + followed. What men may do the government is doing, but all the time the + poison is at work, the seed has been sown. Two millions of money have been + spent to corrupt that very class which should be the backbone of France. + Through the fingers of one man has come this shower of gold, one man alone + has stood at the head of the great organization which has disseminated + this loathsome disease. Behind him—well, we know.” + </p> + <p> + “The man?” + </p> + <p> + “It is fitting that you should ask that question,” Sogrange replied. “The + name of that man is Bernadine, Count von Hern.” + </p> + <p> + Peter remained speechless. There was something almost terrible in the slow + preciseness with which Sogrange had uttered the name of his enemy, + something unspeakably threatening in the cold glitter of his angry eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Up to the present,” Sogrange continued, “I have watched—sympathetically, + of course, but with a certain amount of amusement—the duel between + you and Bernadine. It has been against your country and your country’s + welfare that most of his efforts have been directed, which perhaps + accounts for the equanimity with which I have been contented to remain a + looker-on. It is apparent, my dear Baron, that in most of your encounters + the honors have remained with you. Yet, as it has chanced, never once has + Bernadine been struck a real and crushing blow. The time has come when + this and more must happen. It is no longer a matter of polite exchanges. + It is a duel a outrance.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” Peter began— + </p> + <p> + “I mean that Bernadine must die,” Sogrange declared. + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. Outside, the early morning street noises were + increasing in volume as the great army of workers, streaming towards the + heart of the city from a hundred suburbs, passed on to their tasks. A + streak of sunshine had found its way into the room, lay across the carpet + and touched Sogrange’s still, waxen features. Peter glanced half fearfully + at his friend and visitor. He himself was no coward, no shrinker from the + great issues. He, too, had dealt in life and death. Yet there was + something in the deliberate preciseness of Sogrange’s words, as he sat + there only a few feet away, unspeakably thrilling. It was like a death + sentence pronounced in all solemnity upon some shivering criminal. There + was something inevitable and tragical about the whole affair. A + pronouncement had been made from which there was no appeal—Bernadine + was to die! + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t this a little exceeding the usual exercise of our powers?” Peter + asked, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “No such occasion as this has ever yet arisen,” Sogrange reminded him. + “Bernadine has fled to this country with barely an hour to spare. His + offense is extraditable by a law of the last century which has never been + repealed. He is guilty of treason against the Republic of France. Yet they + do not want him back, they do not want a trial. I have papers upon my + person which, if I took them into an English court, would procure for me a + warrant for Bernadine’s arrest. It is not this we desire. Bernadine must + die. No fate could be too terrible for a man who has striven to corrupt + the soul of a nation. It is not war, this. It is not honest conspiracy. Is + it war, I ask you, to seek to poison the drinking water of an enemy, to + send stalking into their midst some loathsome disease? Such things belong + to the ages of barbarity. Bernadine has striven to revive them and + Bernadine shall die.” + </p> + <p> + “It is justice,” Peter admitted. + </p> + <p> + “The question remains,” Sogrange continued, “by whose hand—yours or + mine?” + </p> + <p> + Peter started uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Is that necessary?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that it is,” Sogrange replied. “We had a brief meeting of the + executive council last night, and it was decided, for certain reasons, to + entrust this task into no other hands. You will smile when I tell you that + these accursed pamphlets have found their way into the possession of many + of the rank and file of our own order. There is a marked disinclination on + the part of those who have been our slaves, to accept orders from any one. + Espionage we can still command—the best, perhaps, in Europe—because + here we use a different class of material. But of those underneath, we + are, for the moment, doubtful. Paris is all in a ferment. Under its + outward seemliness a million throats are ready to take up the brazen cry + of revolution. One trusts nobody. One fears all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “You or I!” Peter repeated, slowly. “It will not be sufficient, then, that + we find Bernadine and deliver him over to your country’s laws?” + </p> + <p> + “It will not be sufficient,” Sogrange answered, sternly. “From those he + may escape. For him there must be no escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Sogrange,” Peter said, speaking in a low tone, “I have never yet killed a + human being.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” Sogrange admitted. “Nor have I yet set my heel upon its head and + stamped the life from a rat upon the pavement. But one lives and one moves + on. Bernadine is the enemy of your country and mine. He makes war after + the fashion of vermin. No ordinary cut-throat would succeed against him. + It must be you or I.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall we decide?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “The spin of a coin,” Sogrange replied. “It is best that way. It is best, + too, done quickly.” + </p> + <p> + Peter produced a sovereign from his pocket and balanced it on the palm of + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Let it be understood,” Sogrange continued, “that this is a dual + undertaking. We toss only for the final honor—for the last stroke. + If the choice falls upon me, I shall count upon you to help me to the end. + If it falls upon you, I shall be at your right hand even when you strike + the blow.” + </p> + <p> + “It is agreed,” Peter said. “See, it is for you to call.” + </p> + <p> + He threw the coin high into the air. + </p> + <p> + “I call heads,” Sogrange decided. + </p> + <p> + It fell upon the table. Peter covered it with his hand and then slowly + withdrew the fingers. A little shiver ran through his veins. The harmless + head that looked up at him was like the figure of death. It was for him to + strike the blow! + </p> + <p> + “Where is Bernadine now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Get me a morning paper and I will tell you,” Sogrange declared, rising. + “He was in the train which was stopped outside the Gare du Nord, on his + way to England. What became of the passengers I have not heard. I knew + what was likely to happen, and I left an hour before in a 100 H. P. + Charron.” + </p> + <p> + Peter rang the bell and ordered the servant who answered it to procure the + Daily Telegraph. As soon as it arrived, he spread it open upon the table + and Sogrange looked over his shoulder. These are the headings which they + saw in large black characters: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + RENEWED RIOTS IN PARIS + + THE GARE DU NORD IN FLAMES + + TERRIBLE ACCIDENT TO THE CALAIS-DOUVRES EXPRESS + + MANY DEATHS +</pre> + <p> + Peter’s forefinger traveled down the page swiftly. It paused at the + following paragraph: + </p> + <p> + The 8.55 train from the Gare du Nord, carrying many passengers for London, + after being detained within a mile of Paris for over an hour owing to the + murder of the engine-driver, made an attempt last night to proceed, with + terrible results. Near Chantilly, whilst travelling at over fifty miles an + hour, the switches were tampered with and the express dashed into a goods + train laden with minerals. Very few particulars are yet to hand, but the + express was completely wrecked and many lives have been lost. + </p> + <p> + Among the dead are the following: + </p> + <p> + One by one Peter read out the names. Then he stopped short. A little + exclamation broke from Sogrange’s lips. The thirteenth name upon that list + of dead was that of Bernadine, Count von Hern. + </p> + <p> + “Bernadine!” Peter faltered. “Bernadine is dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Killed by the strikers!” Sogrange echoed! “It is a just thing, this.” + </p> + <p> + The two men looked down at the paper and then up at one another. A strange + silence seemed to have found its way into the room. The shadow of death + lay between them. Peter touched his forehead and found it wet. + </p> + <p> + “It is a just thing, indeed,” he repeated, “but justice and death are + alike terrible.”... + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon of the same day, a motor car, splashed with mud, + drew up before the door of the house in Berkeley Square. Sogrange, who was + standing talking to Peter before the library window, suddenly broke off in + the middle of a sentence. He stepped back into the room and gripped his + friend’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Baroness!” he exclaimed, quickly. “What does she want here?” + </p> + <p> + “The Baroness who? Peter demanded. + </p> + <p> + “The Baroness von Ratten. You must have heard of her—she is the + friend of Bernadine.” + </p> + <p> + The two men had been out to lunch at the Ritz with Violet and had walked + across the Park home. Sogrange had been drawing on his gloves in the act + of starting out for a call at the Embassy. + </p> + <p> + “Does your wife know this woman?” he asked. Peter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then she has come to see you,” Sogrange continued. “What does it mean, I + wonder?” + </p> + <p> + Peter shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “We shall know in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door and his servant entered, bearing a card. + </p> + <p> + “This lady would like to see you, sir, on important business,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You can show her in here,” Peter directed. + </p> + <p> + There was a very short delay. The two men had no time to exchange a word. + They heard the rustling of a woman’s gown, and immediately afterwards the + perfume of violets seemed to fill the room. + </p> + <p> + “The Baroness von Ratten!” the butler announced. + </p> + <p> + The door was closed behind her. The servant had disappeared. Peter + advanced to meet his guest. She was a little above medium height, very + slim, with extraordinarily fair hair, colorless face, and strange eyes. + She was not strictly beautiful and yet there was no man upon whom her + presence was without its effect. Her voice was like her movements, slow + and with a grace of its own. + </p> + <p> + “You do not mind that I have come to see you?” she asked, raising her eyes + to Peter’s. “I believe before I go that you will think terrible things of + me, but you must not begin before I have told you my errand. It has been a + great struggle with me before I made up my mind to come here.” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you sit down, Baroness?” Peter invited. + </p> + <p> + She saw Sogrange and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “You are not alone,” she said, softly. “I wish to speak with you alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to present to you the Marquis de Sogrange,” Peter begged. “He + is my oldest friend, Baroness. I think that whatever you might have to say + to me you might very well say before him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is—of a private nature,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis and I have no secrets,” Peter declared, “either political or + private.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down and motioned Peter to take a place by her side upon the sofa. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive me if I am a little incoherent,” she implored. “To-day I + have had a shock. You, too, have read the news? You must know that the + Count von Hern is dead—killed in the railway accident last night?” + </p> + <p> + “We read it in the Daily Telegraph,” Peter replied. + </p> + <p> + “It is in all the papers,” she continued. “You know that he was a very + dear friend of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard so,” Peter admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Yet there was one subject,” she insisted, earnestly, “upon which we never + agreed. He hated England. I have always loved it. England was kind to me + when my own country drove me out. I have always felt grateful. It has been + a sorrow to me that in so many of his schemes, in so much of his work, + Bernadine should consider his own country at the expense of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange drew a little nearer. It began to be interesting, this. + </p> + <p> + “I heard the news early this morning by telegram,” she went on. “For a + long time I was prostrated. Then early this afternoon I began to think—one + must always think. Bernadine was a dear friend, but things between us + lately have been different, a little strained. Was it his fault or mine—who + can say? Does one tire with the years, I wonder? I wonder!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were lifted to his and Peter was conscious of the fact that she + wished him to know that they were beautiful. She looked slowly away again. + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon, as I sat alone,” she proceeded, “I remembered that in my + keeping were many boxes of papers and many letters which have recently + arrived, all belonging to Bernadine. I reflected that there were certainly + some who were in his confidence, and that very soon they would come from + his country and take them all away. And then I remembered what I owed to + England, and how opposed I always was to Bernadine’s schemes, and I + thought that the best thing I could do to show my gratitude would be to + place his papers all in the hands of some Englishman, so that they might + do no more harm to the country which has been kind to me. So I came to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Again her eyes were lifted to his and Peter was very sure indeed that they + were wonderfully beautiful. He began to realize the fascination of this + woman, of whom he had heard so much. Her very absence of coloring was a + charm. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you have brought me these papers?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “I could not do that. There were too many of them—they + are too heavy, and there are piles of pamphlets—revolutionary + pamphlets, I am afraid—all in French, which I do not understand. No, + I could not bring them to you. But I ordered my motor car and I drove up + here to tell you that if you like to come down to the house in the country + where I have been living, to which Bernadine was to have come to-night—yes, + and bring your friend, too, if you will—you shall look through them + before any one else can arrive.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” Peter murmured. “Tell me where it is that you live.” + </p> + <p> + “It is beyond Hitchin,” she told him, “up the Great North Road. I tell you + at once, it is a horrible house in a horrible lonely spot. Within a day or + two I shall leave it myself forever. I hate it—it gets on my nerves. + I dream of all the terrible things which perhaps have taken place there. + Who can tell? It was Bernadine’s long before I came to England.” + </p> + <p> + “When are we to come?” Peter asked. + </p> + <p> + “You must come back with me now, at once,” the Baroness insisted. “I + cannot tell how soon some one in his confidence may arrive.” + </p> + <p> + “I will order my car,” Peter declared. + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind coming in mine?” she begged. “It is of no consequence, if you + object, but every servant in Bernadine’s house is a German and a spy. + There are no women except my own maid. Your car is likely enough known to + them and there might be trouble. If you will come with me now, you and + your friend, if you like, I will send you to the station to-night in time + to catch the train home. I feel that I must have this thing off my mind. + You will come? Yes?” + </p> + <p> + Peter rang the bell and ordered his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” he answered. “May we not offer you some tea first?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “To-day I cannot think of eating or drinking,” she replied. “Bernadine and + I were no longer what we had been, but the shock of his death seems none + the less terrible. I feel like a traitor to him for coming here, yet I + believe that I am doing what is right,” she added, softly. + </p> + <p> + “If you will excuse me for one moment,” Peter said, “while I take leave of + my wife, I will rejoin you presently.” + </p> + <p> + Peter was absent for only a few minutes. Sogrange and the Baroness + exchanged the merest commonplaces. As they all passed down the hall, + Sogrange lingered behind. + </p> + <p> + “If you will take the Baroness out to the car,” he suggested, “I will + telephone to the Embassy and tell them not to expect me.” + </p> + <p> + Peter offered his arm to his companion. She seemed, indeed, to need + support. Her fingers clutched at his coat-sleeve as they passed on to the + pavement. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad to be no longer quite alone,” she whispered. “Almost I wish + that your friend were not coming. I know that Bernadine and you were + enemies, but then you were enemies not personally, but politically. After + all, it is you who stand for the things which have become so dear to me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true that Bernadine and I were bitter antagonists,” Peter admitted, + gravely. “Death, however, ends all that. I wish him no further harm.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. + </p> + <p> + “As for me,” she said, “I am growing used to being friendless. I was + friendless before Bernadine came, and latterly we have been nothing to one + another. Now, I suppose, I shall know what it is to be an outcast once + more. Did you ever hear my history, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Never, Baroness,” he replied. “I understood, I believe, that your + marriage—” + </p> + <p> + “My husband divorced me,” she confessed, simply. “He was quite within his + rights. He was impossible. I was very young and very sentimental. They say + that Englishwomen are cold,” she added. “Perhaps that is so. People think + that I look cold. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange suddenly opened the door of the car in which they were already + seated. She leaned back and half closed her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is rather a long ride,” she said, “and I am worn out. I hope you will + not mind, but for myself I cannot talk when motoring. Smoke, if it pleases + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Might one inquire as to our exact destination?” Sogrange asked. + </p> + <p> + “We go beyond Hitchin, up the Great North Road,” she told him again. “The + house is called the High House. It stands in the middle of a heath and I + think it is the loneliest and most miserable place that was ever built. I + hate it and I am frightened in it. For some reason or other, it suited + Bernadine, but that is all over now.” + </p> + <p> + The little party of three relapsed into silence. The car, driven carefully + enough through the busy streets, gradually increased its pace as they drew + clear of the suburbs. Peter leaned back in his place, thinking. Bernadine + was dead! Nothing else would have convinced him so utterly of the fact as + that simple sentence in the Daily Telegraph, which had been followed up by + a confirmation and a brief obituary notice in all the evening papers. + Curiously enough, the fact seemed to have drawn a certain spice out of + even this adventure; to point, indeed, to a certain monotony in the + future. Their present enterprise, important though it might turn out to + be, was nothing to be proud of. A woman, greedy for gold, was selling her + lover’s secrets before the breath was out of his body. Peter turned in his + cushioned seat to look at her. Without doubt, she was beautiful to one who + understood, beautiful in a strange, colorless, feline fashion, the beauty + of soft limbs, soft movements, a caressing voice, with always the promise + beyond of more than the actual words. Her eyes now were closed, her face + was a little weary. Did she really rest, Peter wondered? He watched the + rising and falling of her bosom, the quivering now and then of her + eyelids. She had indeed the appearance of a woman who had suffered. + </p> + <p> + The car rushed on into the darkness. Behind them lay that restless + phantasmagoria of lights streaming to the sky. In front, blank space. + Peter, through half-closed eyes, watched the woman by his side. From the + moment of her entrance into his library, he had summed her up in his mind + with a single word. She was, beyond a doubt, an adventuress. No woman + could have proposed the things which she had proposed, who was not of that + ilk. Yet for that reason it behooved them to have a care in their dealings + with her. At her instigation they had set out upon this adventure, which + might well turn out according to any fashion that she chose. Yet without + Bernadine what could she do? She was not the woman to carry on the work + which he had left behind, for the love of him. Her words had been frank, + her action shameful but natural. Bernadine was dead and she had realized + quickly enough the best market for his secrets. In a few days’ time his + friends would have come and she would have received nothing. He told + himself that he was foolish to doubt her. There was not a flaw in the + sequence of events, no possible reason for the suspicions which yet + lingered at the back of his brain. Intrigue, it was certain, was to her as + the breath of her body. He was perfectly willing to believe that the death + of Bernadine would have affected her little more than the sweeping aside + of a fly. His very common sense bade him accept her story. + </p> + <p> + By degrees he became drowsy. Suddenly he was startled into a very + wide-awake state. Through half-closed eyes he had seen Sogrange draw a + sheet of paper from his pocket, a gold pencil from his chain, and commence + to write. In the middle of a sentence, his eyes were abruptly lifted. He + was looking at the Baroness. Peter, too, turned his head; he, also, looked + at the Baroness. Without a doubt, she had been watching both of them. + Sogrange’s pencil continued its task, only he traced no more characters. + Instead, he seemed to be sketching a face, which presently he tore + carefully up into small pieces and destroyed. He did not even glance + towards Peter, but Peter understood very well what had happened. He had + been about to send him a message, but had found the Baroness watching. + Peter was fully awake now. His faint sense of suspicion had deepened into + a positive foreboding. He had a reckless desire to stop the car, to + descend upon the road and let the secrets of Bernadine go where they + would. Then his natural love of adventure blazed up once more. His moment + of weakness had passed. The thrill was in his blood, his nerves were + tightened. He was ready for what might come, seemingly still half asleep, + yet, indeed, with every sense of intuition and observation keenly alert. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange leaned over from his place. + </p> + <p> + “It is a lonely country, this, into which we are coming, madame,” he + remarked. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, it is not so lonely here as you will think it when we arrive at + our destination,” she replied. “There are houses here, but they are hidden + by the trees. There are no houses near us.” + </p> + <p> + She rubbed the pane with her hand. + </p> + <p> + “We are, I believe, very nearly there,” she said. “This is the nearest + village. Afterwards, we just climb a hill and about half a mile along the + top of it is the High House.” + </p> + <p> + “And the name of the village,” Sogrange inquired. + </p> + <p> + “St Mary’s,” she told him, “In the summer people call it beautiful around + here. To me it is the most melancholy spot I ever saw. There is so much + rain, and one hears the drip, drip in the trees all the day long. Alone I + could not bear it. To-morrow or the next day I shall pack up my belongings + and come to London. I am, unfortunately,” she added, with a little sigh, + “very, very poor, but it is my hope that you may find the papers, of which + I have spoken to you, valuable.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange smiled faintly. Peter and he could scarcely forbear to exchange a + single glance. The woman’s candor was almost brutal. She read their + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “We ascend the hill,” she continued. “We draw now very near to the end of + our journey. There is still one thing I would say to you. Do not think too + badly of me for what I am about to do. To Bernadine, while he lived, I was + faithful. Many a time I could have told you of his plans and demanded a + great sum of money, and you would have given it me willingly, but my lips + were sealed because, in a way, I loved him. While he lived I gave him what + I owed. To-day he is dead, and, whatever I do, it cannot concern him any + more. To-day I am a free woman and I take the side I choose.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear madame,” he replied, “what you have proposed to us is, after all, + quite natural and very gracious. If one has a fear at all about the + matter, it is as to the importance of these documents you speak of. + Bernadine, I know, has dealt in great affairs; but he was a diplomat by + instinct, experienced and calculating. One does not keep incriminating + papers.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned a little forward. The car had swung round a corner now and was + making its way up an avenue as dark as pitch. + </p> + <p> + “The wisest of us, Monsieur le Marquis,” she whispered, “reckon sometimes + without that one element of sudden death. What should you say, I wonder, + to a list of agents in France pledged to circulate in certain places + literature of an infamous sort? What should you say, monsieur, to a copy + of a secret report of your late maneuvers, franked with the name of one of + your own staff officers? What should you say,” she went on, “to a list of + Socialist deputies with amounts against their name, amounts paid in hard + cash? Are these of no importance to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” Sogrange answered, simply, “for such information, if it were + genuine, it would be hard to mention a price which we should not be + prepared to pay.” + </p> + <p> + The car came to a sudden standstill. The first impression of the two men + was that the Baroness had exaggerated the loneliness and desolation of the + place. There was nothing mysterious or forbidding about the plain, + brownstone house before which they had stopped. The windows were streaming + with light; the hall door, already thrown open, disclosed a very + comfortable hall, brilliantly illuminated. A man-servant assisted his + mistress to alight, another ushered them in. In the background were other + servants. The Baroness glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “About dinner, Carl?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It waits for madame,” the man answered. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Take care of these gentlemen till I descend,” she ordered. “You will not + mind?” she added, turning pleadingly to Sogrange. “To-day I have eaten + nothing. I am faint with hunger. Afterwards, it will be a matter but of + half an hour. You can be in London again by ten o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will, madame,” Sogrange replied. “We are greatly indebted to you + for your hospitality. But for costume, you understand that we are as we + are?” + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly understood,” she assured him. “For myself, I rejoin you + in ten minutes. A loose gown, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange and Peter were shown into a modern bathroom by a servant who was + so anxious to wait upon them that they had difficulty in sending him away. + As soon as he was gone and the door closed behind him, Peter put his foot + against it and turned the key. + </p> + <p> + “You were going to write something to me in the car?” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange nodded. + </p> + <p> + “There was a moment,” he admitted, “when I had a suspicion. It has passed. + This woman is no Roman. She sells the secrets of Bernadine as she would + sell herself. Nevertheless, it is well always to be prepared. There were + probably others beside Bernadine who had the entree here.” + </p> + <p> + “The only suspicious circumstance which I have noticed,” Peter remarked, + “is the number of men-servants. I have seen five already.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only fair to remember,” Sogrange reminded him, “that the Baroness + herself told us that there were no other save men-servants here and that + they were all spies. Without a master, I cannot see that they are + dangerous. One needs, however, to watch all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “If you see anything suspicious,” Peter said, “tap the table with your + forefinger. Personally, I will admit that I have had my doubts of the + Baroness, but on the whole I have come to the conclusion that they were + groundless. She is not the sort of woman to take up a vendetta, especially + an unprofitable one.” + </p> + <p> + “She is an exceedingly dangerous person for an impressionable man like + myself,” Sogrange remarked, arranging his tie. + </p> + <p> + The butler fetched them in a very few moments and showed them into a + pleasantly-furnished library, where he mixed cocktails for them from a + collection of bottles upon the sideboard. He was quite friendly and + inclined to be loquacious, although he spoke with a slight foreign accent. + The house belonged to an English gentleman from whom the honored Count had + taken it, furnished. They were two miles from a station and a mile from + the village. It was a lonely part, but there were always people coming or + going. With one’s work one scarcely noticed it. He was gratified that the + gentlemen found his cocktails so excellent. Perhaps he might be permitted + the high honor of mixing them another? It was a day, this, of deep sadness + and gloom. One needed to drink something, indeed, to forget the terrible + thing which had happened. The Count had been a good master, a little + impatient sometimes, but kind-hearted. The news had been a shock to them + all. + </p> + <p> + Then, before they had expected her, the Baroness reappeared. She wore a + wonderful gray gown which seemed to be made in a single piece, a gown + which fitted her tightly, and yet gave her the curious appearance of a + woman walking without the burden of clothes. Sogrange, Parisian to the + finger-tips, watched her with admiring approval. She laid her fingers upon + his arm, although it was towards Peter that her eyes traveled. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take me in, Marquis?” she begged. “It is the only formality we + will allow ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + They entered a long, low dining-room, paneled with oak, and with the + family portraits of the owner of the house still left upon the wall. + Dinner was served upon a round table and was laid for four. There was a + profusion of silver, very beautiful glass, and a wonderful cluster of + orchids. The Marquis, as he handed his hostess to her chair, glanced + towards the vacant place. + </p> + <p> + “It is for my companion, an Austrian lady,” she explained. “To-night, + however, I think that she will not come. She was a distant connection of + Bernadine’s and she is much upset. We leave her place and see. You will + sit on my other side, Baron.” + </p> + <p> + The fingers which touched Peter’s arm brushed his hand, and were withdrawn + as though with reluctance. She sank into her chair with a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + “It is charming of you two, this,” she declared, softly. “You help me + through this night of solitude and sadness. What I should do if I were + alone, I cannot tell. You must drink with me a toast, if you will. Will + you make it to our better acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + No soup had been offered and champagne was served with the hors d’oeuvre. + Peter raised his glass and looked into the eyes of the woman who was + leaning so closely towards him that her soft breath fell upon his cheek. + She whispered something in his ear. For a moment, perhaps, he was carried + away, but for a moment only. Then Sogrange’s voice and the beat of his + forefinger upon the table stiffened him into sudden alertness. They heard + a motor car draw up outside. + </p> + <p> + “Who can it be?” the Baroness exclaimed, setting her glass down abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “It is, perhaps, our fourth guest who arrives,” Sogrange remarked. + </p> + <p> + They all three listened, Peter and Sogrange with their glasses still + suspended in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Our fourth guest?” the Baroness repeated. “Madame von Estenier is + upstairs, lying down. I cannot tell who this may be.” + </p> + <p> + Her lips were parted. The lines of her forehead had suddenly appeared. Her + eyes were turned toward the door, hard and bright. Then the glass which + she had nervously picked up again and was holding between her fingers, + fell on to the tablecloth with a little crash, and the yellow wine ran + bubbling on to her plate. Her scream echoed to the roof and rang through + the room. It was Bernadine who stood there in the doorway, Bernadine in a + long traveling ulster and the air of one newly arrived from a journey. + They all three looked at him, but there was not one who spoke. The + Baroness, after her one wild cry, was dumb. + </p> + <p> + “I am indeed fortunate,” Bernadine said. “You have as yet, I see, scarcely + commenced. You probably expected me. I am charmed to find so agreeable a + party awaiting my arrival.” + </p> + <p> + He divested himself of his ulster and threw it across the arm of the + butler, who stood behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he continued; “for a man who has just been killed in a railway accident, + I find myself with an appetite. A glass of wine, Carl. I do not know what + that toast was, the drinking of which my coming interrupted, but let us + all drink it together. Aimee, my love to you, dear. Let me congratulate + you upon the fortitude and courage with which you ignored those lying + reports of my death. I had fears that I might find you alone in a darkened + room, with tear-stained eyes and sal volatile by your side. This is + infinitely better. Gentlemen, you are welcome.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange lifted his glass and bowed courteously. Peter followed suit. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” Sogrange murmured, “the Press nowadays becomes more unreliable + every day. It is apparent, my dear Von Hern, that this account of your + death was, to say the least of it, exaggerated.” + </p> + <p> + Peter said nothing. His eyes were fixed upon the Baroness. She sat in her + chair quite motionless, but her face had become like the face of some + graven image. She looked at Bernadine, but her eyes said nothing. Every + glint of expression seemed to have left her features. Since that one wild + shriek she had remained voiceless. Encompassed by danger though he knew + they now must be, Peter found himself possessed by one thought only. Was + this a trap into which they had fallen, or was the woman, too, deceived? + </p> + <p> + “You bring later news from Paris than I myself,” Sogrange proceeded, + helping himself to one of the dishes which a footman was passing round. + “How did you reach the coast? The evening papers stated distinctly that + since the accident no attempt had been made to run trains.” + </p> + <p> + “By motor car from Chantilly,” Bernadine replied. “I had the misfortune to + lose my servant, who was wearing my coat, and who, I gather from the + newspaper reports, was mistaken for me. I myself was unhurt. I hired a + motor car and drove to Boulogne—not the best of journeys, let me + tell you, for we broke down three times. There was no steamer there, but I + hired a fishing boat, which brought me across the Channel in something + under eight hours. From the coast I motored direct here. I was so + anxious,” he added, raising his eyes, “to see how my dear friend—my + dear Aimee—was bearing the terrible news.” + </p> + <p> + She fluttered for a moment like a bird in a trap. Peter drew a little sigh + of relief. His self-respect was reinstated. He had decided that she was + innocent. Upon them, at least, would not fall the ignominy of having been + led into the simplest of traps by this white-faced Delilah. The butler had + brought her another glass, which she raised to her lips. She drained its + contents, but the ghastliness of her appearance remained unchanged. Peter, + watching her, knew the signs. She was sick with terror. + </p> + <p> + “The conditions throughout France are indeed awful,” Sogrange remarked. + “They say, too, that this railway strike is only the beginning of worse + things.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Your country, dear Marquis,” he said, “is on its last legs. No one knows + better than I that it is, at the present moment, honeycombed with sedition + and anarchical impulses. The people are rotten. For years the whole tone + of France has been decadent. Its fall must even now be close at hand.” + </p> + <p> + “You take a gloomy view of my country’s future,” Sogrange declared. + </p> + <p> + “Why should one refuse to face facts?” Bernadine replied. “One does not + often talk so frankly, but we three are met together this evening under + somewhat peculiar circumstances. The days of the glory of France are past. + England has laid out her neck for the yoke of the conqueror. Both are + doomed to fall. Both are ripe for the great humiliation. You two gentlemen + whom I have the honor to receive as my guests,” he concluded, filling his + glass and bowing towards them, “in your present unfortunate predicament + represent precisely the position of your two countries.” + </p> + <p> + “Ave Caesar!” Peter muttered grimly, raising his glass to his lips. + </p> + <p> + Bernadine accepted the challenge. + </p> + <p> + “It is not I, alas! who may call myself Caesar,” he replied, “although it + is certainly you who are about to die.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange turned to the man who stood behind his chair. + </p> + <p> + “If I might trouble you for a little dry toast?” he inquired. “A modern + but very uncomfortable ailment,” he added, with a sigh. “One’s digestion + must march with the years, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Your toast you shall have, with pleasure, Marquis,” he said, “but as for + your indigestion, do not let that trouble you any longer. I think that I + can promise you immunity from that annoying complaint for the rest of your + life.” + </p> + <p> + “You are doing your best,” Peter declared, leaning back in his chair, “to + take away my appetite.” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine looked searchingly from one to the other of his two guests. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he admitted, “you are brave men. I do not know why I should ever + have doubted it. Your pose is excellent. I have no wish, however, to see + you buoyed up by a baseless optimism. A somewhat remarkable chance has + delivered you into my hands. You are my prisoners. You, Peter, Baron de + Grost, I have hated all my days. You have stood between me and the + achievement of some of my most dearly-cherished tasks. Always I have said + to myself that the day of reckoning must come. It has arrived. As for you, + Marquis de Sogrange, if my personal feelings towards you are less violent, + you still represent the things absolutely inimical to me and my interests. + The departure of you two men was the one thing necessary for the + successful completion of certain tasks which I have in hand at the present + moment.” + </p> + <p> + Peter pushed away his plate. + </p> + <p> + “You have succeeded in destroying my appetite, Count,” he declared. “Now + that you have gone so far in expounding your amiable resolutions towards + us, perhaps you will go a little further and explain exactly how, in this + eminently respectable house, situated, I understand, in an eminently + respectable neighborhood, with a police station within a mile, and a dozen + or so witnesses as to our present whereabouts, you intend to expedite our + removal?” + </p> + <p> + Bernadine pointed toward the woman who sat facing him. + </p> + <p> + “Ask the Baroness how these things are arranged.” + </p> + <p> + They turned towards her. She fell back in her chair with a little gasp. + She had fainted. Bernadine shrugged his shoulders. The butler and one of + the footmen, who during the whole of the conversation had stolidly + proceeded with their duties, in obedience to a gesture from their master + took her up in their arms and carried her from the room. + </p> + <p> + “The fear has come to her, too,” Bernadine murmured, softly. “It may come + to you, my brave friends, before morning.” + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” Peter answered, his hand stealing around to his hip + pocket, “but in the meantime, what is to prevent—” + </p> + <p> + The hip pocket was empty. Peter’s sentence ended abruptly. Bernadine + mocked him. + </p> + <p> + “To prevent your shooting me in cold blood, I suppose,” he remarked. + “Nothing except that my servants are too clever. No one save myself is + allowed to remain under this roof with arms in their possession. Your + pocket was probably picked before you had been in the place five minutes. + No, my dear Baron, let me assure you that escape will not be so easy! You + were always just a little inclined to be led away by the fair sex. The + best men in the world, you know, have shared that failing, and the + Baroness, alone and unprotected, had her attractions, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Then something happened to Peter which had happened to him barely a dozen + times in his life. He lost his temper and lost it rather badly. Without an + instant’s hesitation, he caught up the decanter which stood by his side + and flung it in his host’s face. Bernadine only partly avoided it by + thrusting out his arms. The neck caught his forehead and the blood came + streaming over his tie and collar. Peter had followed the decanter with a + sudden spring. His fingers were upon Bernadine’s throat and he thrust his + head back. Sogrange sprang to the door to lock it, but he was too late. + The room seemed full of men-servants. Peter was dragged away, still + struggling fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Tie them up!” Bernadine gasped, swaying in his chair. “Tie them up, do + you hear? Carl, give me brandy.” + </p> + <p> + He swallowed half a wineglassful of the raw spirit. His eyes were red with + fury. + </p> + <p> + “Take them to the gun room,” he ordered, “three of you to each of them, + mind. I’ll shoot the man who lets either escape.” + </p> + <p> + But Peter and Sogrange were both of them too wise to expend any more of + their strength in a useless struggle. They suffered themselves to be + conducted without resistance across the white stone hall, down a long + passage, and into a room at the end, the window and fireplace of which + were both blocked up. The floor was of red flags and the walls + whitewashed. The only furniture was a couple of kitchen chairs and a long + table. The door was of stout oak and fitted with a double lock. The sole + outlet, so far as they could see, was a small round hole at the top of the + roof. The door was locked behind them. They were alone. + </p> + <p> + “The odd trick to Bernadine!” Peter exclaimed hoarsely, wiping a spot of + blood from his forehead. “My dear Marquis, I scarcely know how to + apologize. It is not often that I lose my temper so completely.” + </p> + <p> + “The matter seems to be of very little consequence,” Sogrange answered. + “This was probably our intended destination in any case. Seems to be + rather an unfortunate expedition of ours, I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “One cannot reckon upon men coming back from the dead,” Peter declared. + “It isn’t often that you find every morning and every evening paper + mistaken. As for the woman, I believe in her. She honestly meant to sell + us those papers of Bernadine’s. I believe that she, too, will have to face + a day of reckoning.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange strolled around the room, subjecting it everywhere to a close + scrutiny. The result was hopeless. There was no method of escape save + through the door. + </p> + <p> + “There is certainly something strange about this apartment,” Peter + remarked. “It is, to say the least of it, unusual to have windows in the + roof and a door of such proportions. All the same, I think that those + threats of Bernadine’s were a little strained. One cannot get rid of one’s + enemies, nowadays, in the old-fashioned, melodramatic way. Bernadine must + know quite well that you and I are not the sort of men to walk into a trap + of any one’s setting, just as I am quite sure that he is not the man to + risk even a scandal by breaking the law openly.” + </p> + <p> + “You interest me,” Sogrange said. “I begin to suspect that you, too, have + made some plans.” + </p> + <p> + “But naturally,” Peter replied. “Once before Bernadine set a trap for me + and he nearly had a chance of sending me for a swim in the Thames. Since + then one takes precautions as a matter of course. We were followed down + here, and by this time I should imagine that the alarm is given. If all + was well, I was to have telephoned an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You are really,” Sogrange declared, “quite an agreeable companion, my + dear Baron. You think of everything.” + </p> + <p> + The door was suddenly opened. Bernadine stood upon the threshold and + behind him several of the servants. + </p> + <p> + “You will oblige me by stepping back into the study, my friends,” he + ordered. + </p> + <p> + “With great pleasure,” Sogrange answered, with alacrity. “We have no fancy + for this room, I can assure you.” + </p> + <p> + Once more they crossed the stone hall and entered the room into which they + had first been shown. On the threshold, Peter stopped short and listened. + It seemed to him that from somewhere upstairs he could hear the sound of a + woman’s sobs. He turned to Bernadine. + </p> + <p> + “The Baroness is not unwell, I trust?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The Baroness is as well as she is likely to be for some time,” Bernadine + replied, grimly. + </p> + <p> + They were all in the study now. Upon a table stood a telephone instrument. + Bernadine drew a small revolver from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Baron de Grost,” he said, “I find that you are not quite such a fool as I + thought you. Some one is ringing up for you on the telephone. You will + reply that you are well and safe and that you will be home as soon as your + business here is finished. Your wife is at the other end. If you breathe a + single word to her of your approaching end, she shall hear through the + telephone the sound of the revolver shot that sends you to Hell.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” Peter protested, “I find this most unpleasant. If you will + excuse me, I don’t think I’ll answer the call at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You will answer it as I have directed,” Bernadine insisted. “Only + remember this—if you speak a single ill-advised word, the end will + be as I have said.” + </p> + <p> + Peter picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + It was Violet whose voice he heard. He listened for a moment to her + anxious flood of questions. + </p> + <p> + “There is not the slightest cause to be alarmed, dear,” he said. “Yes, I + am down at the High House, near St. Mary’s. Bernadine is here. It seems + that those reports of his death were absolutely unfounded.... Danger? + Unprotected? Why, my dear Violet, you know how careful I always am. Simply + because Bernadine used once to live here, and because the Baroness was his + friend, I spoke to Sir John Dory over the telephone before we left, and an + escort of half-a-dozen police followed us. They are about the place now, I + have no doubt, but their presence is quite unnecessary. I shall be home + before long, dear.... Yes, perhaps it would be as well to send the car + down. Any one will direct him to the house—the High House, St. + Mary’s, remember. Good-by!” + </p> + <p> + Peter replaced the receiver and turned slowly round. Bernadine was + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You did well to reassure your wife, even though it was a pack of lies you + told her,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Peter shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Bernadine,” he said, “up till now I have tried to take you + seriously. You are really passing the limit. I must positively ask you to + reflect a little. Do men who live the life that you and I live, trust any + one? Am I—is the Marquis de Sogrange here—after a lifetime of + experience, likely to leave the safety of our homes in company with a lady + of whom we knew nothing except that she was your companion, without + precautions? I do you the justice to believe you a person of commonsense. + I know that we are as safe in this house as we should be in our own. War + cannot be made in this fashion in an over-policed country like England.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not be too sure,” Bernadine replied. “There are secrets about this + house which have not yet been disclosed to you. There are means, my dear + Baron, of transporting you into a world where you are likely to do much + less harm than here, means ready at hand, and which would leave no more + trace behind than those crumbling ashes can tell of the coal mine from + which they came.” + </p> + <p> + Peter preserved his attitude of bland incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, drawing a whistle from his pocket, “it is just possible + that you are in earnest. I will bet you, then, if you like, a hundred + pounds, that if I blow this whistle you will either have to open your door + within five minutes or find your house invaded by the police.” + </p> + <p> + No one spoke for several moments. The veins were standing out upon + Bernadine’s forehead. + </p> + <p> + “We have had enough of this folly,” he cried. “If you refuse to realize + your position, so much the worse for you. Blow your whistle, if you will. + I am content.” + </p> + <p> + Peter waited for no second bidding. He raised the whistle to his lips and + blew it, loudly and persistently. Again there was silence. Bernadine + mocked him. + </p> + <p> + “Try once more, dear Baron,” he advised. “Your friends are perhaps a + little hard of hearing. Try once more, and when you have finished, you and + I and the Marquis de Sogrange will find our way once more to the gun room + and conclude that trifling matter of business which brought you here.” + </p> + <p> + Again Peter blew his whistle and again the silence was broken only by + Bernadine’s laugh. Suddenly, however, that laugh was checked. Every one + had turned toward the door, listening. A bell was ringing throughout the + house. + </p> + <p> + “It is the front door!” one of the servants exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + No one moved. As though to put the matter beyond doubt, there was a steady + knocking to be heard from the same direction. + </p> + <p> + “It is a telegram or some late caller,” Bernadine declared, hoarsely. + “Answer it, Carl. If any one would speak with the Baroness, she is + indisposed and unable to receive. If any one desires me, I am here.” + </p> + <p> + The man left the room. They heard him withdraw the chain from the door. + Bernadine wiped the sweat from his forehead as he listened. He still + gripped the revolver in his hand. Peter had changed his position a little + and was standing now behind a high-backed chair. They heard the door creak + open, a voice outside, and presently the tramp of heavy footsteps. Peter + nodded understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “It is exactly as I told you,” he said. “You were wise not to bet, my + friend.” + </p> + <p> + Again the tramp of feet in the hall. There was something unmistakable + about the sound, something final and terrifying. Bernadine saw his triumph + slipping away. Once more this man who had defied him so persistently, was + to taste the sweets of victory. With a roar of fury he sprang across the + room. He fired his revolver twice before Sogrange, with a terrible blow, + knocked his arm upwards and sent the weapon spinning to the ceiling. Peter + struck his assailant in the mouth, but the blow seemed scarcely to check + him. They rolled on the floor together, their arms around one another’s + necks. It was an affair, that, but of a moment. Peter, as lithe as a cat, + was on his feet again almost at once, with a torn collar and an ugly mark + on his face. There were strangers in the room now and the servants had + mostly slipped away during the confusion. It was Sir John Dory himself who + locked the door. Bernadine struggled slowly to his feet. He was face to + face with half a dozen police constables in plain clothes. + </p> + <p> + “You have a charge against this man, Baron?” the police commissioner + asked. + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “The quarrel between us,” he replied, “is not for the police courts, + although I will confess, Sir John, that your intervention was opportune.” + </p> + <p> + “I, on the other hand,” Sogrange put in, “demand the arrest of the Count + von Hern and the seizure of all papers in this house. I am the bearer of + an autograph letter from the President of France in connection with this + matter. The Count von Hern has committed extraditable offenses against my + country. I am prepared to swear an information to that effect.” + </p> + <p> + The police commissioner turned to Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend’s name?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis de Sogrange,” Peter told him. + </p> + <p> + “He is a person of authority?” + </p> + <p> + “To my certain knowledge,” Peter replied, “he has the implicit confidence + of the French Government.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John Dory made a sign. In another moment Bernadine would have been + arrested. It seemed, indeed, as though nothing could save him now from + this crowning humiliation. He himself, white and furious, was at a loss + how to deal with an unexpected situation. Suddenly a thing happened + stranger than any one of them there had ever dreamed of, so strange that + even men such as Peter, Sogrange and Dory, whose nerves were of iron, + faced one another, doubting and amazed. The floor beneath them rocked and + billowed like the waves of a canvas sea. The windows were filled with + flashes of red light, a great fissure parted the wall, the pictures and + book-cases came crashing down beneath a shower of masonry. It was the + affair of a second. Above them shone the stars and around them a noise + like thunder. Bernadine, who alone understood, was the first to recover + himself. He stood in the midst of them, his hands above his head, laughing + as he looked around at the strange storm, laughing like a madman. + </p> + <p> + “The wonderful Carl,” he cried. “Oh, matchless servant. Arrest me now, if + you will, you dogs of the police. Rout out my secrets, dear Baron de + Grost. Tuck them under your arm and hurry to Downing Street. This is the + hospitality of the High House, my friends. It loves you so well that only + your ashes shall leave it.” + </p> + <p> + His mouth was open for another sentence when he was struck. A whole pillar + of marble from one of the rooms above came crashing through and buried him + underneath a falling shower of masonry. Peter escaped by a few inches. + Those who were left unhurt sprang through the yawning wall out into the + garden. Sir John, Sogrange and Peter, three of the men—one limping + badly, came to a standstill in the middle of the lawn. Before them, the + house was crumbling like a pack of cards, and louder even than the thunder + of the falling structure was the roar of the red flames. + </p> + <p> + “The Baroness!” Peter cried, and took one leap forward. + </p> + <p> + “I am here,” she sobbed, running to them from out of the shadows. “I have + lost everything—my jewels, my clothes, all except what I have on. + They gave me but a moment’s warning.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one else in the house?” Peter demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No one but you who were in that room,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Your companion!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “There was no companion,” she faltered. “I thought it sounded better to + speak of her. I had her place laid at table, but she never even existed.” + </p> + <p> + Peter tore off his coat. + </p> + <p> + “There are the others in the room!” he exclaimed. “We must go back.” + </p> + <p> + Sogrange caught him by the shoulder and pointed to a shadowy group some + distance away. + </p> + <p> + “We are all out but Bernadine,” he said. “For him were is no hope. Quick!” + </p> + <p> + They sprang back only just in time. The outside wall of the house fell + with a terrible crash. The room which they had quitted was blotted now out + of existence. From right and left, in all directions along the country + road, came the flashing of lights and little knots of hurrying people. + </p> + <p> + “It is the end!” Peter muttered. “Yesterday I should have regretted the + passing of a brave enemy. To-day I hail with joy the death of a brute.” + </p> + <p> + The Baroness, who had been sitting upon a garden seat, sobbing, came + softly up to them. She laid her fingers upon Peter’s arm imploringly. + </p> + <p> + “You will not leave me friendless?” she begged. “The papers I promised you + are destroyed, but many of his secrets are here.” + </p> + <p> + She tapped her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” Peter answered, “I have no wish to know them. Years ago I swore + that the passing of Bernadine should mark my own retirement from the world + in which we both lived. I shall keep my word. To-night Bernadine is dead. + To-night, Sogrange, my work is finished.” The Baroness began to sob again. + </p> + <p> + “And I thought that you were a man,” she moaned, “so gallant, so honorable—” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” Sogrange intervened, “I shall commend you to the pension list of + the Double-Four.” + </p> + <p> + She dried her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is not money only I want,” she whispered, her eyes following Peter. + </p> + <p> + Sogrange shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You have never seen the Baroness de Grost?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + “But no!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Sogrange murmured.... “Our escort, madame, is at your service—as + far as London.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Peter Ruff and the Double Four, by +E. 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