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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dark Star, by Robert W. Chambers
+
+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: The Dark Star
+
+Author: Robert W. Chambers
+
+Illustrator: W. D. Stevens
+
+Release Date: March 29, 2009 [EBook #28440]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DARK STAR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK STAR
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "My darling Rue--my little Rue Carew----"]
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK STAR
+
+By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS
+
+Author of "The Girl Philippa," "Who Goes There,"
+"The Hidden Children," Etc.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+WITH FRONTISPIECE
+
+By W. D. STEVENS
+
+A. L. BURT COMPANY
+
+Publishers--New York
+
+Published by Arrangement with D. Appleton & Company
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1917, by
+
+ROBERT W. CHAMBERS
+
+Copyright, 1916, 1917, by the International Magazine Company
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+TO MY FRIEND
+EDGAR SISSON
+
+
+
+
+ Dans c'metier-la, faut
+ rien chercher a comprendre.
+ RENE BENJAMIN
+
+
+
+
+ ALAK'S SONG
+
+ Where are you going,
+ Naia?
+ Through the still noon--
+ Where are you going?
+
+ To hear the thunder of the sea
+ And the wind blowing!--
+ To find a stormy moon to comfort me
+ Across the dune!
+
+ ----
+
+ Why are you weeping,
+ Naia?
+ Through the still noon--
+ Why are you weeping?
+
+ Because I found no wind, no sea,
+ No white surf leaping,
+ Nor any flying moon to comfort me
+ Upon the dune.
+
+ ----
+
+ What did you see there,
+ Naia?
+ In the still noon--
+ What did you see there?
+
+ Only the parched world drowsed in drought,
+ And a fat bee, there,
+ Prying and probing at a poppy's mouth
+ That drooped a-swoon.
+
+ ----
+
+ What did you hear there,
+ Naia?
+ In the still noon--
+ What did you hear there?
+
+ Only a kestrel's lonely cry
+ From the wood near there--
+ A rustle in the wheat as I passed by--
+ A cricket's rune.
+
+ ----
+
+ Who led you homeward,
+ Naia?
+ Through the still noon--
+ Who led you homeward?
+
+ My soul within me sought the sea,
+ Leading me foam-ward:
+ But the lost moon's ghost returned with me
+ Through the high noon.
+
+ ----
+
+ Where is your soul then,
+ Naia?
+ Lost at high noon--
+ Where is your soul then?
+
+ It wanders East--or West--I think--
+ Or near the Pole, then--
+ Or died--perhaps there on the dune's dry brink
+ Seeking the moon.
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK STAR
+
+"The dying star grew dark; the last light faded from it; went out.
+Prince Erlik laughed.
+
+"And suddenly the old order of things began to pass away more
+swiftly.
+
+"Between earth and outer space--between Creator and created, confusing
+and confounding their identities,--a rushing darkness grew--the
+hurrying wrack of immemorial storms heralding whirlwinds through which
+Truth alone survives.
+
+"Awaiting the inevitable reestablishment of such temporary conventions
+as render the incident of human existence possible, the brooding Demon
+which men call Truth stares steadily at Tengri under the high stars
+which are passing too, and which at last shall pass away and leave the
+Demon watching all alone amid the ruins of eternity."
+
+ The Prophet of the Kiot Bordjiguen
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+Preface. Children of the Star
+
+ CHAPTER PAGE
+
+ I. The Wonder-Box 1
+
+ II. Brookhollow 18
+
+ III. In Embryo 30
+
+ IV. The Trodden Way 38
+
+ V. Ex Machina 47
+
+ VI. The End of Solitude 60
+
+ VII. Obsession 71
+
+ VIII. A Change Impends 80
+
+ IX. Nonresistance 88
+
+ X. Driving Head-on 102
+
+ XI. The Breakers 112
+
+ XII. A Life Line 122
+
+ XIII. Letters from a Little Girl 137
+
+ XIV. A Journey Begins 157
+
+ XV. The Locked House 162
+
+ XVI. Scheherazade 180
+
+ XVII. A White Skirt 193
+
+ XVIII. By Radio 202
+
+ XIX. The Captain of the Volhynia 216
+
+ XX. The Drop of Irish 223
+
+ XXI. Method and Foresight 239
+
+ XXII. Two Thirteen 246
+
+ XXIII. On His Way 253
+
+ XXIV. The Road to Paris 261
+
+ XXV. Cup and Lip 280
+
+ XXVI. Rue Soleil d'Or 290
+
+ XXVII. From Four to Five 305
+
+ XXVIII. Together 312
+
+ XXIX. En Famille 325
+
+ XXX. Jardin Russe 337
+
+ XXXI. The Cafe des Bulgars 347
+
+ XXXII. The Cercle Extranationale 358
+
+ XXXIII. A Rat Hunt 377
+
+ XXXIV. Sunrise 395
+
+ XXXV. The First Day 410
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK STAR
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK STAR
+
+PREFACE
+
+CHILDREN OF THE STAR
+
+
+Not the dark companion of Sirius, brightest of all stars--not our own
+chill and spectral planet rushing toward Vega in the constellation of
+Lyra--presided at the birth of millions born to corroborate a bloody
+horoscope.
+
+But a Dark Star, speeding unseen through space, known to the ancients,
+by them called Erlik, after the Prince of Darkness, ruled at the birth
+of those myriad souls destined to be engulfed in the earthquake of the
+ages, or flung by it out of the ordered pathway of their lives into
+strange byways, stranger highways--into deeps and deserts never
+dreamed of.
+
+Also one of the dozen odd temporary stars on record blazed up on that
+day, flared for a month or two, dwindled to a cinder, and went out.
+
+But the Dark Star Erlik, terribly immortal, sped on through space to
+complete a two-hundred-thousand-year circuit of the heavens, and begin
+anew an immemorial journey by the will of the Most High.
+
+What spectroscope is to horoscope, destiny is to chance. The black
+star Erlik rushed through interstellar darkness unseen; those born
+under its violent augury squalled in their cradles, or, thumb in
+mouth, slumbered the dreamless slumber of the newly born.
+
+One of these, a tiny girl baby, fussed and fidgeted in her mother's
+arms, tortured by prickly heat when the hot winds blew through
+Trebizond.
+
+Overhead vultures circled; a _stein-adler_, cleaving the blue, looked
+down where the surf made a thin white line along the coast, then set
+his lofty course for China.
+
+Thousands of miles to the westward, a little boy of eight gazed out
+across the ruffled waters of the mill pond at Neeland's Mills, and
+wondered whether the ocean might not look that way.
+
+And, wondering, with the salt sea effervescence working in his
+inland-born body, he fitted a cork to his fishing line and flung the
+baited hook far out across the ripples. Then he seated himself on the
+parapet of the stone bridge and waited for monsters of the deep to
+come.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And again, off Seraglio Point, men were rowing in a boat; and a corded
+sack lay in the stern, horridly and limply heavy.
+
+There was also a box lying in the boat, oddly bound and clamped with
+metal which glistened like silver under the Eastern stars when the
+waves of the Bosporus dashed high, and the flying scud rained down on
+box and sack and the red-capped rowers.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+In Petrograd a little girl of twelve was learning to eat other things
+than sour milk and cheese; learning to ride otherwise than like a
+demon on a Cossack saddle; learning deportment, too, and languages,
+and social graces and the fine arts. And, most thoroughly of all, the
+little girl was learning how deathless should be her hatred for the
+Turkish Empire and all its works; and how only less perfect than our
+Lord in Paradise was the Czar on his throne amid that earthly paradise
+known as "All the Russias."
+
+Her little brother was learning these things, too, in the Corps of
+Officers. Also he was already proficient on the balalaika.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And again, in the mountains of a conquered province, the little
+daughter of a gamekeeper to nobility was preparing to emigrate with
+her father to a new home in the Western world, where she would learn
+to perform miracles with rifle and revolver, and where the beauty of
+the hermit thrush's song would startle her into comparing it to the
+beauty of her own untried voice. But to her father, and to her, the
+most beautiful thing in all the world was love of Fatherland.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Over these, and millions of others, brooded the spell of the Dark
+Star. Even the world itself lay under it, vaguely uneasy, sometimes
+startled to momentary seismic panic. Then, ere mundane self-control
+restored terrestrial equilibrium, a few mountains exploded, an island
+or two lay shattered by earthquake, boiling mud and pumice blotted out
+one city; earth-shock and fire another; a tidal wave a third.
+
+But the world settled down and balanced itself once more on the edge
+of the perpetual abyss into which it must fall some day; the invisible
+shadow of the Dark Star swept it at intervals when some far and
+nameless sun blazed out unseen; days dawned; the sun of the solar
+system rose furtively each day and hung around the heavens until that
+dusky huntress, Night, chased him once more beyond the earth's
+horizon.
+
+The shadow of the Dark Star was always there, though none saw it in
+sunshine or in moonlight, or in the silvery lustre of the planets.
+
+A boy, born under it, stood outside the fringe of willow and alder,
+through which moved two English setters followed and controlled by the
+boy's father.
+
+"Mark!" called the father.
+
+Out of the willows like a feathered bomb burst a big grouse, and the
+green foliage that barred its flight seemed to explode as the strong
+bird sheered out into the sunshine.
+
+The boy's gun, slanting upward at thirty degrees, glittered in the sun
+an instant, then the left barrel spoke; and the grouse, as though
+struck by lightning in mid-air, stopped with a jerk, then slanted
+swiftly and struck the ground.
+
+"Dead!" cried the boy, as a setter appeared, leading on straight to
+the heavy mass of feathers lying on the pasture grass.
+
+"Clean work, Jim," said his father, strolling out of the willows. "But
+wasn't it a bit risky, considering the little girl yonder?"
+
+"Father!" exclaimed the boy, very red. "I never even saw her. I'm
+ashamed."
+
+They stood looking across the pasture, where a little girl in a pink
+gingham dress lingered watching them, evidently lured by her curiosity
+from the old house at the crossroads just beyond.
+
+Jim Neeland, still red with mortification, took the big cock-grouse
+from the dog which brought it--a tender-mouthed, beautifully trained
+Belton, who stood with his feathered offering in his jaws, very
+serious, very proud, awaiting praise from the Neelands, father and
+son.
+
+Neeland senior "drew" the bird and distributed the sacrifice
+impartially between both dogs--it being the custom of the country.
+
+Neeland junior broke his gun, replaced the exploded shell, content
+indeed with his one hundred per cent performance.
+
+"Better run over and speak to the little girl, Jim," suggested old
+Dick Neeland, as he motioned the dogs into covert again.
+
+So Jim ran lightly across the stony, clover-set ground to where the
+little girl roamed along the old snake fence, picking berries
+sometimes, sometimes watching the sportsmen out of shy, golden-grey
+eyes.
+
+"Little girl," he said, "I'm afraid the shot from my gun came rattling
+rather close to you that time. You'll have to be careful. I've noticed
+you here before. It won't do; you'll have to keep out of range of
+those bushes, because when we're inside we can't see exactly where
+we're firing."
+
+The child said nothing. She looked up at the boy, smiled shyly, then,
+with much composure, began her retreat, not neglecting any tempting
+blackberry on the way.
+
+The sun hung low over the hazy Gayfield hills; the beeches and oaks of
+Mohawk County burned brown and crimson; silver birches supported their
+delicate canopies of burnt gold; and imperial white pines clothed hill
+and vale in a stately robe of green.
+
+Jim Neeland forgot the child--or remembered her only to exercise
+caution in the Brookhollow covert.
+
+The little girl Ruhannah, who had once fidgeted with prickly heat in
+her mother's arms outside the walls of Trebizond, did not forget this
+easily smiling, tall young fellow--a grown man to her--who had come
+across the pasture lot to warn her.
+
+But it was many a day before they met again, though these two also had
+been born under the invisible shadow of the Dark Star. But the shadow
+of Erlik is always passing like swift lightning across the Phantom
+Planet which has fled the other way since Time was born.
+
+_Allahou Ekber, O Tchinguiz Khagan!_
+
+A native Mongol missionary said to Ruhannah's father:
+
+"As the chronicles of the Eighurs have it, long ago there fell metal
+from the Black Racer of the skies; the first dagger was made of it;
+and the first image of the Prince of Darkness. These pass from Kurd to
+Cossack by theft, by gift, by loss; they pass from nation to nation by
+accident, which is Divine design.
+
+"And where they remain, war is. And lasts until image and dagger are
+carried to another land where war shall be. But where there is war,
+only the predestined suffer--those born under Erlik--children of the
+Dark Star."
+
+"I thought," said the Reverend Wilbour Carew, "that my brother had
+confessed Christ."
+
+"I am but repeating to you what my father believed; and Temujin before
+him," replied the native convert, his remote gaze lost in reflection.
+
+His eyes were quite little and coloured like a lion's; and sometimes,
+in deep reverie, the corners of his upper lip twitched.
+
+This happened when Ruhannah lay fretting in her mother's arms, and the
+hot wind blew on Trebizond.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Under the Dark Star, too, a boy grew up in Minetta Lane, not less
+combative than other ragged boys about him, but he was inclined to
+arrange and superintend fist fights rather than to participate in
+battle, except with his wits.
+
+His name was Eddie Brandes; his first fortune of three dollars was
+amassed at craps; he became a hanger-on in ward politics, at
+race-tracks, stable, club, squared ring, vaudeville, burlesque. Long
+Acre attracted him--but always the gambling end of the operation.
+
+Which predilection, with its years of ups and downs, landed him one
+day in Western Canada with an "Unknown" to match against an Athabasca
+blacksmith, and a training camp as the prospect for the next six
+weeks.
+
+There lived there, gradually dying, one Albrecht Dumont, lately head
+gamekeeper to nobility in the mountains of a Lost Province, and
+wearing the Iron Cross of 1870 on the ruins of a gigantic and bony
+chest, now as hollow as a Gothic ruin.
+
+And if, like a thousand fellow patriots, he had been ordered to the
+Western World to watch and report to his Government the trend and
+tendency of that Western, English-speaking world, only his Government
+and his daughter knew it--a child of the Dark Star now grown to early
+womanhood, with a voice like a hermit thrush and the skill of a
+sorceress with anything that sped a bullet.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Before the Unknown was quite ready to meet the Athabasca blacksmith,
+Albrecht Dumont, dying faster now, signed his last report to the
+Government at Berlin, which his daughter Ilse had written for
+him--something about Canadian canals and stupid Yankees and their
+greed, indifference, cowardice, and sloth.
+
+Dumont's mind wandered:
+
+"After the well-born Herr Gott relieves me at my post," he whispered,
+"do thou pick up my burden and stand guard, little Ilse."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Thy sacred promise?"
+
+"My promise."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The next day Dumont felt better than he had felt for a year.
+
+"Ilse, who is the short and broadly constructed American who comes now
+already every day to see thee and to hear thee sing?"
+
+"His name is Eddie Brandes."
+
+"He is of the fight _gesellschaft_, not?"
+
+"He should gain much money by the fight. A theatre in Chicago may he
+willingly control, in which light opera shall be given."
+
+"Is it for that he hears so willingly thy voice?"
+
+"It is for that.... And love."
+
+"And what of Herr Max Venem, who has asked of me thy little hand in
+marriage?"
+
+The girl was silent.
+
+"Thou dost not love him?"
+
+"No."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Toward sunset, Dumont, lying by the window, opened his eyes of a dying
+_Laemmergeier_:
+
+"My Ilse."
+
+"Father?"
+
+"What has thou to this man said?"
+
+"That I will be engaged to him if thou approve."
+
+"He has gained the fight?"
+
+"Today.... And many thousand dollars. The theatre in Chicago is his
+when he desires. Riches, leisure, opportunity to study for a career
+upon his stage, are mine if I desire."
+
+"Dost thou desire this, little Ilse?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And the man Venem who has followed thee so long?"
+
+"I cannot be what he would have me--a _Hausfrau_--to mend his linen
+for my board and lodging."
+
+"And the Fatherland which placed me here on outpost?"
+
+"I take thy place when God relieves thee."
+
+"_So ist's recht!... Grues Gott_--Ilse----"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Among the German settlers a five-piece brass band had been organised
+the year before.
+
+It marched at the funeral of Albrecht Dumont, lately head gamekeeper
+to nobility in the mountains of a long-lost province.
+
+Three months later Ilse Dumont arrived in Chicago to marry Eddie
+Brandes. One Benjamin Stull was best man. Others present included
+"Captain" Quint, "Doc" Curfoot, "Parson" Smawley, Abe Gordon--friends
+of the bridegroom.
+
+Invited by the bride, among others were Theodor Weishelm, the Hon.
+Charles Wilson, M. P., and Herr Johann Kestner, a wealthy gentleman
+from Leipsic seeking safe and promising investments in Canada and the
+United States.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A year later Ilse Dumont Brandes, assuming the stage name of Minna
+Minti, sang the role of _Bettina_ in "The Mascotte," at the Brandes
+Theatre in Chicago.
+
+A year later, when she created the part of _Kathi_ in "The White
+Horse," Max Venem sent word to her that she would live to see her
+husband lying in the gutter under his heel. Which made the girl
+unhappy in her triumph.
+
+But Venem hunted up Abe Grittlefeld and told him very coolly that he
+meant to ruin Brandes.
+
+And within a month the latest public favourite, Minna Minti, sat in
+her dressing-room, wet-eyed, enraged, with the reports of Venem's
+private detectives locked in the drawer of her dressing table, and the
+curtain waiting.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+So complex was life already becoming to these few among the million
+children of the Dark Star Erlik--to everyone, from the child that
+fretted in its mother's arms under the hot wind near Trebizond, to a
+deposed Sultan, cowering behind the ivory screen in his zenana,
+weeping tears that rolled like oil over his fat jowl to which still
+adhered the powdered sugar of a Turkish sweetmeat.
+
+Allahou Ekber, _Khodja_; God is great. Great also, _Ande_, is Ali, the
+Fourth Caliph, cousin-companion of Mahomet the Prophet. But, _O
+tougtchi_, be thy name Niaz and thy surname Bai, for Prince Erlik
+speeds on his Dark Star, and beneath the end of the argument between
+those two last survivors of a burnt-out world--behold! The sword!
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK STAR
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE WONDER-BOX
+
+
+As long as she could remember she had been permitted to play with the
+contents of the late Herr Conrad Wilner's wonder-box. The programme on
+such occasions varied little; the child was permitted to rummage among
+the treasures in the box until she had satisfied her perennial
+curiosity; conversation with her absent-minded father ensued, which
+ultimately included a personal narrative, dragged out piecemeal from
+the reticent, dreamy invalid. Then always a few pages of the diary
+kept by the late Herr Wilner were read as a bedtime story. And bath
+and bed and dreamland followed. That was the invariable routine, now
+once more in full swing.
+
+Her father lay on his invalid's chair, reading; his rubber-shod
+crutches rested against the wall, within easy reach. By him, beside
+the kerosene lamp, her mother sat, mending her child's stockings and
+underwear.
+
+Outside the circle of lamplight the incandescent eyes of the stove
+glowed steadily through the semi-dusk; and the child, always
+fascinated by anything that aroused her imagination, lifted her gaze
+furtively from time to time to convince herself that it really was the
+big, familiar stove which glared redly back at her, and not a dragon
+into which her creative fancy had so often transformed it.
+
+Reassured, she continued to explore the contents of the wonder-box--a
+toy she preferred to her doll, but not to her beloved set of
+water-colours and crayon pencils.
+
+Some centuries ago Pandora's box let loose a world of troubles; Herr
+Wilner's box apparently contained only pleasure for a little child
+whose pleasures were mostly of her own invention.
+
+It was a curious old box, made of olive wood and bound with bands of
+some lacquered silvery metal to make it strong--rupee silver,
+perhaps--strangely wrought with Arabic characters engraved and in
+shallow relief. It had handles on either side, like a sea-chest; a
+silver-lacquered lock and hasp which retained traces of violent usage;
+and six heavy strap hinges of the same lacquered metal.
+
+Within it the little child knew that a most fascinating collection of
+articles was to be discovered, taken out one by one with greatest
+care, played with discreetly, and, at her mother's command, returned
+to their several places in Herr Wilner's box.
+
+There were, in this box, two rather murderous-looking Kurdish daggers
+in sheaths of fretted silver--never to be unsheathed, it was solemnly
+understood, except by the child's father.
+
+There was a pair of German army revolvers of the pattern of 1900, the
+unexploded cartridges of which had long since been extracted and
+cautiously thrown into the mill pond by the child's mother, much to
+the surprise, no doubt, of the pickerel and sunfish.
+
+There were writing materials of sandalwood, a few sea shells, a dozen
+books in German with many steel plate engravings; also a red Turkish
+fez with a dark blue tassel; two pairs of gold-rimmed spectacles;
+several tobacco pipes of Dresden porcelain, a case full of instruments
+for mechanical drawing, a thick blank book bound in calf and
+containing the diary of the late Herr Wilner down to within a few
+minutes before his death.
+
+Also there was a figure in bronze, encrusted with tarnished gold and
+faded traces of polychrome decoration.
+
+Erlik, the Yellow Devil, as Herr Wilner called it, seemed too heavy to
+be a hollow casting, and yet, when shaken, something within rattled
+faintly, as though when the molten metal was cooling a fissure formed
+inside, into which a few loose fragments of bronze had fallen.
+
+It apparently had not been made to represent any benign Chinese god;
+the aspect of the yellow figure was anything but benevolent. The
+features were terrific; scowls infested its grotesque countenance;
+threatening brows bent inward; angry eyes rolled in apparent fury; its
+double gesture with sword and javelin was violent and almost
+humorously menacing. And Ruhannah adored it.
+
+For a little while the child played her usual game of frightening her
+doll with the Yellow Devil and then rescuing her by the aid of a fairy
+prince which she herself had designed, smeared with water-colours, and
+cut out with scissors from a piece of cardboard.
+
+After a time she turned to the remaining treasures in the wonder-box.
+These consisted of several volumes containing photographs, others full
+of sketches in pencil and water-colour, and a thick roll of glazed
+linen scrolls covered with designs in India ink.
+
+The photographs were of all sorts--landscapes, rivers, ships in dock,
+dry dock, and at sea; lighthouses, forts, horses carrying soldiers
+armed with lances and wearing the red fez; artillery on the march,
+infantry, groups of officers, all wearing the same sort of fez which
+lay there in Herr Wilner's box of olive wood.
+
+There were drawings, too--sketches of cannon, of rifles, of swords;
+drawings of soldiers in various gay uniforms, all carefully coloured
+by hand. There were pictures of ships, from the sterns of which the
+crescent flag floated lazily; sketches of great, ugly-looking objects
+which her father explained were Turkish ironclads. The name "ironclad"
+always sounded menacing and formidable to the child, and the
+forbidding pictures fascinated her.
+
+Then there were scores and scores of scrolls made out of slippery
+white linen, on which had been drawn all sorts of most amazing
+geometrical designs in ink.
+
+"Plans," her father explained vaguely. And, when pressed by reiterated
+questions: "Plans for military works, I believe--forts, docks,
+barracks, fortified cuts and bridges. You are not yet quite old enough
+to understand, Ruhannah."
+
+"Who did draw them, daddy?"
+
+"A German friend of mine, Herr Conrad Wilner."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"I think his master sent him to Turkey to make those pictures."
+
+"For the Sultan?"
+
+"No; for his Emperor."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I don't exactly know, Rue."
+
+At this stage of the conversation her father usually laid aside his
+book and composed himself for the inevitable narrative soon to be
+demanded of him.
+
+Then, although having heard the story many times from her crippled
+father's lips, but never weary of the repetition, the child's eyes
+would grow round and very solemn in preparation for her next and
+inevitable question:
+
+"And did Herr Wilner _die_, daddy?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Tell me!"
+
+"Well, it was when I was a missionary in the Trebizond district, and
+your mother and I went----"
+
+"And _me_, daddy? And _me_, too!"
+
+"Yes; you were a little baby in arms. And we all went to Gallipoli to
+attend the opening of a beautiful new school which was built for
+little Mohammedan converts to Christianity----"
+
+"Did I see those little Christian children, daddy?"
+
+"Yes, you saw them. But you are too young to remember."
+
+"Tell me. Don't stop!"
+
+"Then listen attentively without interrupting, Rue: Your mother and
+you and I went to Gallipoli; and my friend, Herr Wilner, who had been
+staying with us at a town called Tchardak, came along with us to
+attend the opening of the American school.
+
+"And the night we arrived there was trouble. The Turkish people, urged
+on by some bad officials in the Sanjak, came with guns and swords and
+spears and set fire to the mission school.
+
+"They did not offer to harm us. We had already collected our converts
+and our personal baggage. Our caravan was starting. The mob might not
+have done anything worse than burn the school if Herr Wilner had not
+lost his temper and threatened them with a dog whip. Then they killed
+him with stones, there in the walled yard."
+
+At this point in the tragedy, the eagerly awaited and ardently desired
+shivers passed up and down the child's back.
+
+"O--oh! Did they kill him _dead_?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Was he a martyr?"
+
+"In a way he was a martyr to his duty, I suppose. At least I gather so
+from his diary and from what he once told me of his life."
+
+"And then what happened? Tell me, daddy."
+
+"A Greek steamer took us and our baggage to Trebizond."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"And then, a year later, the terrible massacre at our Trebizond
+mission occurred----"
+
+That was what the child was waiting for.
+
+"I know!" she interrupted eagerly. "The wicked Turks and the cruel
+Kurds did come galloping and shouting 'Allah!' And all the poor,
+converted people became martyrs. And God loves martyrs, doesn't He?"
+
+"Yes, dear----"
+
+"And then they did kill all the poor little Christian children!"
+exclaimed the child excitedly. "And they did cut you with swords and
+guns! And then the kind sailors with the American flag took you and
+mamma and me to a ship and saved us by the grace of our Lord Jesus!"
+
+"Yes, dear----"
+
+"Tell me!"
+
+"That is all----"
+
+"No; you walk on two crutches, and you cannot be a missionary any
+more because you are sick all the time! Tell me, daddy!"
+
+"Yes. And that is all, Rue----"
+
+"Oh, no! Please! Tell me!... And then, don't you remember how the
+brave British sailors and our brave American sailors pointed their
+cannon at the _I_-ronclads, and they said, 'Do not shoot or we shall
+shoot you to pieces.' And then the brave American sailors went on
+shore and brought back some poor little wounded converted children,
+and your baggage and the magic box of Herr Wilner!"
+
+"Yes, dear. And now that is enough tonight----"
+
+"Oh, daddy, you must first read in the di-a-ry which Herr Wilner
+made!"
+
+"Bring me the book, Rue."
+
+With an interest forever new, the Carew family prepared to listen to
+the words written by a strange man who had died only a few moments
+after he had made the last entry in the book--before even the ink was
+entirely dry on the pages.
+
+The child, sitting cross-legged on the floor, clasped her little hands
+tightly; her mother laid aside her sewing, folded it, and placed it in
+her lap; her father searched through the pencilled translation which
+he had written in between the lines of German script, found where he
+had left off the time before, then continued the diary of Herr Conrad
+Wilner, deceased:
+
+_March 3._ My original plans have been sent to the Yildiz Palace.
+ My duplicates are to go to Berlin when a messenger from our
+ Embassy arrives. Murad Bey knows this. I am sorry he knows it. But
+ nobody except myself is aware that I have a third set of plans
+ carefully hidden.
+
+_March 4._ All day with Murad's men setting wire entanglements
+ under water; two Turkish destroyers patrolling the entrance to the
+ bay, and cavalry patrols on the heights to warn away the curious.
+
+_March 6._ Forts Alamout and Shah Abbas are being reconstructed
+ from the new plans. Wired areas under water and along the coves
+ and shoals are being plotted. Murad Bey is unusually polite and
+ effusive, conversing with me in German and French. A spidery man
+ and very dangerous.
+
+_March 7._ A strange and tragic affair last night. The heat being
+ severe, I left my tent about midnight and went down to the dock
+ where my little sailboat lay, with the object of cooling myself on
+ the water. There was a hot land breeze; I sailed out into the bay
+ and cruised north along the coves which I have wired. As I rounded
+ a little rocky point I was surprised to see in the moonlight, very
+ near, a steam yacht at anchor, carrying no lights. The longer I
+ looked at her the more certain I became that I was gazing at the
+ Imperial yacht. I had no idea what the yacht might be doing here;
+ I ran my sailboat close under the overhanging rocks and anchored.
+ Then I saw a small boat in the moonlight, pulling from the yacht
+ toward shore, where the crescent cove had already been thoroughly
+ staked and the bottom closely covered with barbed wire as far as
+ the edge of the deep channel which curves in here like a
+ scimitar.
+
+ It must have been that the people in the boat miscalculated the
+ location of the channel, for they were well over the sunken barbed
+ wire when they lifted and threw overboard what they had come there
+ to get rid of--two dark bulks that splashed.
+
+ I watched the boat pull back to the Imperial yacht. A little later
+ the yacht weighed anchor and steamed northward, burning no lights.
+ Only the red reflection tingeing the smoke from her stacks was
+ visible. I watched her until she was lost in the moonlight,
+ thinking all the while of those weighted sacks so often dropped
+ overboard along the Bosporus and off Seraglio Point from that same
+ Imperial yacht.
+
+ When the steamer had disappeared, I got out my sweeps and rowed
+ for the place where the dark objects had been dropped overboard. I
+ knew that they must be resting somewhere on the closely
+ criss-crossed mesh of wires just below the surface of the water;
+ but I probed for an hour before I located anything. Another hour
+ passed in trying to hook into the object with the little
+ three-fluked grapnel which I used as an anchor. I got hold of
+ something finally; a heavy chest of olive wood bound with metal;
+ but I had to rig a tackle before I could hoist it aboard.
+
+ Then I cast out again; and very soon my grapnel hooked into what I
+ expected--a canvas sack, weighted with a round shot. When I got it
+ aboard, I hesitated a long while before opening it. Finally I made
+ a long slit in the canvas with my knife....
+
+ She was very young--not over sixteen, I think, and she was really
+ beautiful, even under her wet, dark hair. She seemed to be a
+ Caucasian girl--maybe a Georgian. She wore a small gold cross
+ which hung from a gold cord around her neck. There was another,
+ and tighter, cord around her neck, too. I cut the silk bowstring
+ and closed and bound her eyes with my handkerchief before I rowed
+ out a little farther and lowered her into the deep channel which
+ cuts eastward here like the scimitar of that true believer, Abdul
+ Hamid.
+
+ Then I hoisted sail and beat up slowly toward my little dock under
+ a moon which had become ghastly under the pallid aura of a
+ gathering storm----
+
+"A poor dead young lady!" interrupted the child, clasping her hands
+more tightly. "Did the Sultan kill her, daddy?"
+
+"It seems so, Ruhannah."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I don't know. He was a very cruel and wicked Sultan."
+
+"I don't see why he killed the beautiful poor dead lady."
+
+"If you will listen and not interrupt, you shall learn why."
+
+"And was the chest that Herr Wilner pulled up the very same chest that
+is here on the floor beside me?" insisted the child.
+
+"The very same. Now listen, Rue, and I shall read a little more in
+Herr Wilner's diary, and then you must have your bath and be put to
+bed----"
+
+"Please read, daddy!"
+
+The Reverend Wilbour Carew turned the page and quietly continued:
+
+_March 20._ In my own quarters at Trebizond again, and rid of
+ Murad for a while.
+
+ A canvas cover and rope handles concealed the character of my
+ olive wood chest. I do not believe anybody suspects it to be
+ anything except one of the various boxes containing my own
+ personal effects. I shall open it tonight with a file and chisel,
+ if possible.
+
+_March 21._ The contents of the chest reveal something of the
+ tragedy. The box is full of letters written in Russian, and full
+ of stones which weigh collectively a hundred pounds at least.
+ There is nothing else in the chest except a broken Ikon and a
+ bronze figure of Erlik, a Yildiz relic, no doubt, of some Kurdish
+ raid into Mongolia, and probably placed beside the dead girl by
+ her murderers in derision. I am translating the letters and
+ arranging them in sequence.
+
+_March 25._ I have translated the letters. The dead girl's name
+ was evidently Tatyana, one of several children of some Cossack
+ chief or petty prince, and on the eve of her marriage to a young
+ officer named Mitya the Kurds raided the town. They carried poor
+ Tatyana off along with her wedding chest--the chest fished up with
+ my grapnel.
+
+ In brief, the chest and the girl found their way into Abdul's
+ seraglio. The letters of the dead girl--which were written and
+ entrusted probably to a faithless slave, but which evidently never
+ left the seraglio--throw some light on the tragedy, for they
+ breathe indignation and contempt of Islam, and call on her
+ affianced, on her parents, and on her people to rescue her and
+ avenge her.
+
+ And after a while, no doubt Abdul tired of reading fierce,
+ unreconciled little Tatyana's stolen letters, and simply ended the
+ matter by having her bowstrung and dumped overboard in a sack,
+ together with her marriage chest, her letters, and the Yellow
+ Devil in bronze as a final insult.
+
+ She seems to have had a sister, Naia, thirteen years old,
+ betrothed to a Prince Mistchenka, a cavalry officer in the Terek
+ Cossacks. Her father had been Hetman of the Don Cossacks before
+ the Emperor Nicholas reserved that title for Imperial use. And
+ _she_ ended in a sack off Gallipoli! That is the story of Tatyana
+ and her wedding chest.
+
+_March 29._ Murad arrived, murderously bland and assiduous in his
+ solicitude for my health and comfort. I am almost positive he
+ knows that I fished up something from Cove No. 37 under the
+ theoretical guns of theoretical Fort Osman, both long plotted out
+ but long delayed.
+
+_April 5._ My duplicate plans for Gallipoli have been stolen. I
+ have a third set still. Colonel Murad Bey is not to be trusted. My
+ position is awkward and is becoming serious. There is no faith to
+ be placed in Abdul Hamid. My credentials, the secret agreement
+ with my Government, are no longer regarded even with toleration in
+ the Yildiz Kiosque. A hundred insignificant incidents prove it
+ every day. And if Abdul dare not break with Germany it is only
+ because he is not yet ready to defy the Young Turk party. The
+ British Embassy is very active and bothers me a great deal.
+
+_April 10._ My secret correspondence with Enver Bey has been
+ discovered, and my letters opened. This is a very bad business. I
+ have notified my Government that the Turkish Government does not
+ want me here; that the plan of a Germanised Turkish army is
+ becoming objectionable to the Porte; that the duplicate plans of
+ our engineers for the Dardanelles and the Gallipoli Peninsula have
+ been stolen.
+
+_April 13._ A secret interview with Enver Bey, who promises that
+ our ideas shall be carried out when his party comes into power.
+ Evidently he does not know that my duplicates have been stolen.
+
+ Troubles threaten in the Vilayet of Trebizond, where is an
+ American Mission. I fear that our emissaries and the emissaries of
+ Enver Bey are deliberately fomenting disorders because Americans
+ are not desired by our Government. Enver denies this; but it is
+ idle to believe anyone in this country.
+
+_April 16._ Another interview with Enver Bey. His scheme is flatly
+ revolutionary, namely, the deposition of Abdul, a secret alliance,
+ offensive and defensive, with us; the Germanisation of the Turkish
+ army and navy; the fortification of the Gallipoli district
+ according to our plans; a steadily increasing pressure on Serbia;
+ a final reckoning with Russia which is definitely to settle the
+ status of Albania and Serbia and leave the Balkan grouping to be
+ settled between Austria, Germany, and Turkey.
+
+ I spoke several times about India and Egypt, but he does not
+ desire to arouse England unless she interferes.
+
+ I spoke also of Abdul Hamid's secret and growing fear of Germany,
+ and his increasing inclination toward England once more.
+
+ No trace of my stolen plans. The originals are in the Yildiz
+ Palace. I have a third set secreted, about which nobody knows.
+
+_April 21._ I have been summoned to the Yildiz Palace. It possibly
+ means my assassination. I have confided my box of data,
+ photographs, and plans, to the Reverend Wilbour Carew, an American
+ missionary in the Trebizond sanjak.
+
+ There are rumours that Abdul has become mentally unhinged through
+ dread of assassination. One of his own aides-de-camp, while being
+ granted an audience in the Yildiz, made a sudden and abrupt
+ movement to find his handkerchief; and Abdul Hamid whipped out a
+ pistol and shot him dead. This is authentic.
+
+_April 30._ Back at Tchardak with my good missionary and his wife.
+ A strange interview with Abdul. There were twenty French clocks in
+ the room, all going and all striking at various intervals. The
+ walls were set with French mirrors.
+
+ Abdul's cordiality was terrifying; the full original set of my
+ Gallipoli plans was brought in. After a while, the Sultan reminded
+ me that the plans were in duplicate, and asked me where were these
+ duplicates. What duplicity! But I said pleasantly that they were
+ to be sent to General Staff Headquarters in Berlin.
+
+ He pretended to understand that this was contrary to the
+ agreement, and insisted that the plans should first be sent to him
+ for comparison. I merely referred him to his agreement with my
+ Government. But all the while we were talking I was absolutely
+ convinced that the stolen duplicates were at that moment in the
+ Yildiz Kiosque. Abdul must have known that I believed it. Yet we
+ both merely smiled our confidence in each other.
+
+ He seemed to be unusually good-natured and gracious, saying that
+ no doubt I was quite right in sending the plans to Berlin. He
+ spoke of Enver Bey cordially, and said he hoped to be reconciled
+ to him and his friends very soon. When Abdul Hamid becomes
+ reconciled to anybody who disagrees with him, the latter is
+ _always_ dead.
+
+ He asked me where I was going. I told him about the plans I was
+ preparing for the Trebizond district. He offered me an escort of
+ Kurdish cavalry, saying that he had been told the district was not
+ very safe. I thanked him and declined his escort of assassins.
+
+ I saw it all very plainly. Like a pirate captain, Abdul orders his
+ crew to dig a secret hole for his treasure, and when the hole is
+ dug and the treasure hidden, he murders the men who hid it for
+ him, so that they shall never betray its location. I am one of
+ those men. That is what he means for me, who have given him his
+ Gallipoli plans. No wonder that in England they call him Abdul the
+ Damned!
+
+_May 3._ In the Bazaar at Tchardak yesterday two men tried to stab
+ me. I got their daggers, but they escaped in the confusion. Murad
+ called to express horror and regret. Yes; regret that I had not
+ been murdered.
+
+_May 5._ I have written to my Government that my usefulness here
+ seems to be ended; that my life is in hourly danger; that I desire
+ to be more thoroughly informed concerning the relations between
+ Berlin and the Yildiz Palace.
+
+_May 6._ I am in disgrace. My Government is furious because my
+ correspondence with Enver Bey has been stolen. The Porte has
+ complained about me to Berlin; Berlin disowns me, disclaims all
+ knowledge of my political activities outside of my engineering
+ work.
+
+ This is what failure to carry out secret instructions invariably
+ brings--desertion by the Government from which such instructions
+ are received. In diplomacy, failure is a crime never forgiven.
+ Abandoned by my Government I am now little better than an outlaw
+ here. Two courses remain open to me--to go back in disgrace and
+ live obscurely for the remainder of my life, or to risk my life by
+ hanging on desperately here with an almost hopeless possibility
+ before me of accomplishing something to serve my Government and
+ rehabilitate myself.
+
+ The matter of the stolen plans is being taken up by our Ambassador
+ at the Sublime Porte. The British Embassy is suspected. What
+ folly! I possess a third set of plans. Our Embassy ought to send
+ to Trebizond for them. I don't know what to do.
+
+_May 12._ A letter I wrote May 10 to the German Embassy has been
+ stolen. I am now greatly worried about the third set of plans. It
+ seems safest to include the box containing them among the baggage
+ of the American missionary, the Reverend Wilbour Carew; and, too,
+ for me to seek shelter with him.
+
+ As I am now afraid that an enemy may impersonate an official of
+ the German Embassy, I have the missionary's promise that he will
+ retain and conceal the contents of my box until I instruct him
+ otherwise. I am practically in hiding at his house, and in actual
+ fear of my life.
+
+_May 15._ The missionary and his wife and baby travel to
+ Gallipoli, where an American school for girls is about to be
+ opened.
+
+ Today, in a cafe, I noticed that the flies, swarming on the edge
+ of my coffee cup, fell into the saucer dead. I did not taste my
+ coffee.
+
+_May 16._ Last night a shot was fired through my door. I have
+ decided to travel to Gallipoli with the missionary.
+
+_May 18._ My groom stole and ate an orange from my breakfast tray.
+ He is dead.
+
+_May 20._ The Reverend Mr. Carew and his wife are most kind and
+ sympathetic. They are good people, simple, kindly, brave,
+ faithful, and fearlessly devoted to God's service in this vile
+ land of treachery and lies.
+
+_May 21._ I have confessed to the Reverend Mr. Carew as I would
+ confess to a priest in holy orders. I have told him all under
+ pledge of secrecy. I told him also that the sanctuary he offers
+ might be violated with evil consequences to him; and that I would
+ travel as far as Gallipoli with him and then leave. But the kind,
+ courageous missionary and his wife insist that I remain under the
+ protection which he says the flag of his country affords me. If I
+ could only get my third set of plans out of the country!
+
+_May 22._ Today my coffee was again poisoned. I don't know what
+ prevented me from tasting it--some vague premonition. A pariah dog
+ ate the bread I soaked in it, and died before he could yelp.
+
+ It looks to me as though my end were inevitable. Today I gave my
+ bronze figure of Erlik, the Yellow Devil, to Mrs. Carew to keep as
+ a dowry for her little daughter, now a baby in arms. If it is
+ hollow, as I feel sure, there are certain to be one or two jewels
+ in it. And the figure itself might bring five hundred marks at an
+ antiquary's.
+
+_May 30._ Arrived at the Gallipoli mission. Three Turkish
+ ironclads lying close inshore. A British cruiser, the _Cobra_, and
+ an American cruiser, the _Oneida_, appeared about sunset and
+ anchored near the ironclads. The bugles on deck were plainly
+ audible. If a German warship appears I shall carry my box on
+ board. My only chance to rehabilitate myself is to get the third
+ set of plans to Berlin.
+
+_June 1._ In the middle of the religious exercises with which the
+ new school is being inaugurated, cries of "Allah" come from a
+ great crowd which has gathered. From my window where I am writing
+ I can see how insolent the attitude of this Mohammedan riffraff is
+ becoming. They spit upon the ground--a pebble is tossed at a
+ convert--a sudden shout of "Allah"--pushing and jostling--a
+ lighted torch blazes! I take my whip of rhinoceros hide and go
+ down into the court to put a stop to this insolence----
+
+Her father slowly closed the book.
+
+"Daddy! Is that where poor Herr Wilner died?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+After a silence his wife said thoughtfully:
+
+"I have always considered it very strange that the German Government
+did not send for Herr Wilner's papers."
+
+"Probably they did, Mary. And very probably Murad Bey told them that
+the papers had been destroyed."
+
+"And you never believed it to be your duty to send the papers to the
+German Government?"
+
+"No. It was an unholy alliance that Germany sought with that monster
+Abdul. And when Enver Pasha seized the reins of government such an
+alliance would have been none the less unholy. You know and so do I
+that if Germany did not actually incite the Armenian massacres she at
+least was cognisant of preparations made to begin them. Germany is
+still hostile to all British or American missions, all Anglo-Saxon
+influence in Turkey.
+
+"No; I did not send Herr Wilner's papers to Berlin; and the events of
+the last fifteen years have demonstrated that I was right in
+withholding them."
+
+His wife nodded, laid aside her work basket, and rose.
+
+"Come, Ruhannah," she said with decision; "put everything back into
+the wonder-box."
+
+And, stooping, she lifted and laid away in it the scowling, menacing
+Yellow Devil.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And so, every month or two, the wonder-box was opened for the child to
+play with, the same story told, extracts from the diary read; but
+these ceremonies, after a while, began to recur at lengthening
+intervals as the years passed and the child grew older.
+
+And finally it was left to her to open the box when she desired, and
+to read for herself the pencilled translation of the diary, which her
+father had made during some of the idle and trying moments of his
+isolated and restricted life. And, when she had been going to school
+for some years, other and more vivid interests replaced her dolls and
+her wonder-box; but not her beloved case of water-colours and crayon
+pencils.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+BROOKHOLLOW
+
+
+The mother, shading the candle with her work-worn hand, looked down at
+the child in silence. The subdued light fell on a freckled cheek where
+dark lashes rested, on a slim neck and thin shoulders framed by a mass
+of short, curly chestnut hair.
+
+Though it was still dark, the mill whistle was blowing for six
+o'clock. Like a goblin horn it sounded ominously through Ruhannah's
+dream. She stirred in her sleep; her mother stole across the room,
+closed the window, and went away carrying the candle with her.
+
+At seven the whistle blew again; the child turned over and unclosed
+her eyes. A brassy light glimmered between leafless apple branches
+outside her window. Through the frosty radiance of sunrise a blue jay
+screamed.
+
+Ruhannah cuddled deeper among the blankets and buried the tip of her
+chilly nose. But the grey eyes remained wide open and, under the faded
+quilt, her little ears were listening intently.
+
+Presently from the floor below came the expected summons:
+
+"Ruhannah!"
+
+"Oh, _please_, mother!"
+
+"It's after seven----"
+
+"I know: I'll be ready in time!"
+
+"It's after seven, Rue!"
+
+"I'm so cold, mother dear!"
+
+"I closed your window. You may bathe and dress down here."
+
+"B-r-r-r! I can see my own breath when I breathe!"
+
+"Come down and dress by the kitchen range," repeated her mother. "I've
+warm water all ready for you."
+
+The brassy light behind the trees was becoming golden; slim bluish
+shadows already stretched from the base of every tree across frozen
+fields dusted with snow.
+
+As usual, the lank black cat came walking into the room, its
+mysterious crystal-green eyes brilliant in the glowing light.
+
+Listening, the child heard her father moving heavily about in the
+adjoining room.
+
+Then, from below again:
+
+"Ruhannah!"
+
+"I'm going to get up, mother!"
+
+"Rue! Obey me!"
+
+"I'm _up_! I'm on my way!" She sprang out amid a tempest of
+bedclothes, hopped gingerly across the chilly carpet, seized her
+garments in one hand, comb and toothbrush in the other, ran into the
+hallway and pattered downstairs.
+
+The cat followed leisurely, twitching a coal-black tail.
+
+"Mother, could I have my breakfast first? I'm so hungry----"
+
+Her mother turned from the range and kissed her as she huddled close
+to it. The sheet of zinc underneath warmed her bare feet delightfully.
+She sighed with satisfaction, looked wistfully at the coffeepot
+simmering, sniffed at the biscuits and sizzling ham.
+
+"Could I have one little taste before I----"
+
+"Come, dear. There's the basin. Bathe quickly, now."
+
+Ruhannah frowned and cast a tragic glance upon the tin washtub on the
+kitchen floor. Presently she stole over, tested the water with her
+finger-tip, found it not unreasonably cold, dropped the night-dress
+from her frail shoulders, and stepped into the tub with a perfunctory
+shiver--a thin, overgrown child of fifteen, with pipestem limbs and
+every rib anatomically apparent.
+
+Her hair, which had been cropped to shoulder length, seemed to turn
+from chestnut to bronze fire, gleaming and crackling under the comb
+which she hastily passed through it before twisting it up.
+
+"Quickly but thoroughly," said her mother. "Hasten, Rue."
+
+Ruhannah seized soap and sponge, gasped, shut her grey eyes tightly,
+and fell to scrubbing with the fury of despair.
+
+"Don't splash, dear----"
+
+"Did you warm my towel, mother?"--blindly stretching out one thin and
+dripping arm.
+
+Her mother wrapped her in a big crash towel from head to foot.
+
+Later, pulling on stockings and shoes by the range, she managed to
+achieve a buttered biscuit at the same time, and was already betraying
+further designs upon another one when her mother sent her to set the
+table in the sitting-room.
+
+Thither sauntered Ruhannah, partly dressed, still dressing.
+
+By the nickel-trimmed stove she completed her toilet, then hastily
+laid the breakfast cloth and arranged the china and plated tableware,
+and filled the water pitcher.
+
+Her father came in on his crutches; she hurried from the table, syrup
+jug in one hand, cruet in the other, and lifted her face to be kissed;
+then she brought hot plates, coffeepot, and platters, and seated
+herself at the table where her father and mother were waiting in
+silence.
+
+When she was seated her father folded his large, pallid, bony hands;
+her mother clasped hers on the edge of the table, bowing her head; and
+Ruhannah imitated them. Between her fingers she could see the cat
+under the table, and she watched it arch its back and gently rub
+against her chair.
+
+"For what we are about to receive, make us grateful, Eternal Father.
+This day we should go hungry except for Thy bounty. Without presuming
+to importune Thee, may we ask Thee to remember all who awake hungry on
+this winter day.... Amen."
+
+Ruhannah instantly became very busy with her breakfast. The cat beside
+her chair purred loudly and rose at intervals on its hind legs to
+twitch her dress; and Ruhannah occasionally bestowed alms and
+conversation upon it.
+
+"Rue," said her mother, "you should try to do better with your algebra
+this week."
+
+"Yes, I do really mean to."
+
+"Have you had any more bad-conduct marks?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+Her father lifted his mild, dreamy eyes of an invalid. Her mother
+asked:
+
+"What for?"
+
+"For wasting my time in study hour," said the girl truthfully.
+
+"Were you drawing?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"Rue! Again! Why do you persist in drawing pictures in your copy
+books when you have an hour's lesson in drawing every week? Besides,
+you may draw pictures at home whenever you wish."
+
+"I don't exactly know why," replied the girl slowly. "It just happens
+before I notice what I am doing.... Of course," she explained, "I do
+recollect that I oughtn't to be drawing in study hour. But that's
+after I've begun, and then it seems a pity not to finish."
+
+Her mother looked across the table at her husband:
+
+"Speak to her seriously, Wilbour."
+
+The Reverend Mr. Carew looked solemnly at his long-legged and rapidly
+growing daughter, whose grey eyes gazed back into her father's sallow
+visage.
+
+"Rue," he said in his colourless voice, "try to get all you can out of
+your school. I haven't sufficient means to educate you in drawing and
+in similar accomplishments. So get all you can out of your school.
+Because, some day, you will have to help yourself, and perhaps help us
+a little."
+
+He bent his head with a detached air and sat gazing mildly at
+vacancy--already, perhaps, forgetting what the conversation was
+about.
+
+"Mother?"
+
+"What, Rue?"
+
+"What am I going to do to earn my living?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Do you mean I must go into the mill like everybody else?"
+
+"There are other things. Girls work at many things in these days."
+
+"What kind of things?"
+
+"They may learn to keep accounts, help in shops----"
+
+"If father could afford it, couldn't I learn to do something more
+interesting? What do girls work at whose fathers can afford to let
+them learn how to work?"
+
+"They may become teachers, learn stenography and typewriting; they
+can, of course, become dressmakers; they can nurse----"
+
+"Mother!"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Could I choose the business of drawing pictures? I know how!"
+
+"Dear, I don't believe it is practical to----"
+
+"Couldn't I draw pictures for books and magazines? Everybody says I
+draw very nicely. You say so, too. Couldn't I earn enough money to
+live on and to take care of you and father?"
+
+Wilbour Carew looked up from his reverie:
+
+"To learn to draw correctly and with taste," he said in his gentle,
+pedantic voice, "requires a special training which we cannot afford to
+give you, Ruhannah."
+
+"Must I wait till I'm twenty-five before I can have my money?" she
+asked for the hundredth time. "I do so need it to educate myself. Why
+did grandma do such a thing, mother?"
+
+"Your grandmother never supposed you would need the money until you
+were a grown woman, dear. Your father and I were young, vigorous, full
+of energy; your father's income was ample for us then."
+
+"Have I got to marry a man before I can get enough money to take
+lessons in drawing with?"
+
+Her mother's drawn smile was not very genuine. When a child asks such
+questions no mother finds it easy to smile.
+
+"If you marry, dear, it is not likely you'll marry in order to take
+lessons in drawing. Twenty-five is not old. If you still desire to
+study art you will be able to do so."
+
+"Twenty-five!" repeated Rue, aghast. "I'll be an old woman."
+
+"Many begin their life's work at an older age----"
+
+"Mother! I'd rather marry somebody and begin to study art. Oh, _don't_
+you think that even now I could support myself by making pictures for
+magazines? Don't you, mother dear?"
+
+"Rue, as your father explained, a special course of instruction is
+necessary before one can become an artist----"
+
+"But I _do_ draw very nicely!" She slipped from her chair, ran to the
+old secretary where the accumulated masterpieces of her brief career
+were treasured, and brought them for her parents' inspection, as she
+had brought them many times before.
+
+Her father looked at them listlessly; he did not understand such
+things. Her mother took them one by one from Ruhannah's eager hands
+and examined these grimy Records of her daughter's childhood.
+
+There were drawings of every description in pencil, in crayon, in
+mussy water-colours, done on scraps of paper of every shape and size.
+The mother knew them all by heart, every single one, but she examined
+each with a devotion and an interest forever new.
+
+There were many pictures of the cat; many of her parents, too--odd,
+shaky, smeared portraits all out of proportion, but usually
+recognisable.
+
+A few landscapes varied the collection--a view or two of the stone
+bridge opposite, a careful drawing of the ruined paper mill. But the
+majority of the subjects were purely imaginary; pictures of demons and
+angels, of damsels and fairy princes--paragons of beauty--with
+castles on adjacent crags and swans adorning convenient ponds.
+
+Her mother rose after a few moments, laid aside the pile of drawings,
+went to the kitchen and returned with her daughter's schoolbooks and
+lunch basket.
+
+"Rue, you'll be late again. Get on your rubbers immediately."
+
+The child's shabby winter coat was already too short in skirt and
+sleeve, and could be lengthened no further. She pulled the blue
+toboggan cap over her head, took a hasty osculatory leave of her
+father, seized books and lunch basket, and followed her mother to the
+door.
+
+Below the house the Brookhollow road ran south across an old stone
+bridge and around a hill to Gayfield, half a mile away.
+
+Rue, drawing on her woollen gloves, looked up at her mother. Her lip
+trembled very slightly. She said:
+
+"I shouldn't know what to do if I couldn't draw pictures.... When I
+draw a princess I mean her for myself.... It is pleasant--to pretend
+to live with swans."
+
+She opened the door, paused on the step; the frosty breath drifted
+from her lips. Then she looked back over her shoulder; her mother
+kissed her, held her tightly for a moment.
+
+"If I'm to be forbidden to draw pictures," repeated the girl, "I don't
+know what will become of me. Because I really live there--in the
+pictures I make."
+
+"We'll talk it over this evening, darling. Don't draw in study hour
+any more, will you?"
+
+"I'll try to remember, mother."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+When the spindle-limbed, boyish figure had sped away beyond sight,
+Mrs. Carew shut the door, drew her wool shawl closer, and returned
+slowly to the sitting-room. Her husband, deep in a padded
+rocking-chair by the window, was already absorbed in the volume which
+lay open on his knees--the life of the Reverend Adoniram Judson--one
+of the world's good men. Ruhannah had named her cat after him.
+
+His wife seated herself. She had dishes to do, two bedrooms,
+preparations for noonday dinner--the usual and unchangeable routine.
+She turned and looked out of the window across brown fields thinly
+powdered with snow. Along a brawling, wintry-dark stream, fringed with
+grey alders, ran the Brookhollow road. Clumps of pines and elms
+bordered it. There was nothing else to see except a distant crow in a
+ten-acre lot, walking solemnly about all by himself.
+
+... Like the vultures that wandered through the compound that dreadful
+day in May ... she thought involuntarily.
+
+But it was a far cry from Trebizond to Brookhollow. And her husband
+had been obliged to give up after the last massacre, when every
+convert had been dragged out and killed in the floating shadow of the
+Stars and Stripes, languidly brilliant overhead.
+
+For the Sublime Porte and the Kurds had had their usual way at last;
+there was nothing left of the Mission; school and converts were gone;
+her wounded husband, her baby, and herself refugees in a foreign
+consulate; and the Turkish Government making apologies with its fat
+tongue in its greasy cheek.
+
+The Koran says: "Woe to those who pray, and in their prayers are
+careless."
+
+The Koran also says: "In the name of God the Compassionate, the
+Merciful: What thinkest thou of him who treateth our religion as a
+lie?"
+
+Mrs. Carew and her crippled husband knew, now, what the Sublime Porte
+thought about it, and what was the opinion of the Kurdish cavalry
+concerning missionaries and converts who treated the Moslem religion
+as a lie.
+
+She looked at her pallid and crippled husband; he was still reading;
+his crutches lay beside him on the floor. She turned her eyes to the
+window. Out there the solitary crow was still walking busily about in
+the frozen pasture. And again she remembered the vultures that hulked
+and waddled amid the debris of the burned Mission.
+
+Only that had been in May; and above the sunny silence in that place
+of death had sounded the unbroken and awful humming of a million
+million flies....
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And so, her husband being now hopelessly broken and useless, they had
+come back with their child, Ruhannah, to their home in Brookhollow.
+
+Here they had lived ever since; here her grey life was passing; here
+her daughter was already emerging into womanhood amid the stark,
+unlovely environments of a country crossroads, arid in summer, iron
+naked in winter, with no horizon except the Gayfield hills, no outlook
+save the Brookhollow road. And that led to the mill.
+
+She had done what she could--was still doing it. But there was nothing
+to save. Her child's destiny seemed to be fixed.
+
+Her husband corresponded with the Board of Missions, wrote now and
+then for the _Christian Pioneer_, and lived on the scanty pension
+allowed to those who, like himself, had become incapacitated in line
+of duty. There was no other income.
+
+There was, however, the six thousand dollars left to Ruhannah by her
+grandmother, slowly accumulating interest in the Mohawk Bank at
+Orangeville, the county seat, and not to be withdrawn, under the terms
+of the will, until the day Ruhannah married or attained, unmarried,
+her twenty-fifth year.
+
+Neither principal nor interest of this legacy was available at
+present. Life in the Carew family at Brookhollow was hard sledding,
+and bid fair to continue so indefinitely.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The life of Ruhannah's father was passed in reading or in gazing
+silently from the window--a tall, sallow, bearded man with the eyes of
+a dreaming martyr and the hands of an invalid--who still saw in the
+winter sky, across brown, snow-powdered fields, the minarets of
+Trebizond.
+
+In reading, in reflection, in dreaming, in spiritual acquiescence,
+life was passing in sombre shadows for this middle-aged man who had
+been hopelessly crushed in Christ's service; and who had never
+regretted that service, never complained, never doubted the wisdom and
+the mercy of his Leader's inscrutable manoeuvres with the soldiers who
+enlist to follow Him. As far as that is concerned, the Reverend
+Wilbour Carew had been born with a believing mind; doubt of divine
+goodness in Deity was impossible for him; doubt of human goodness
+almost as difficult.
+
+Such men have little chance in a brisk, busy, and jaunty world; but
+they prefer it should be that way with them. And of these few
+believers in the goodness of God and man are our fools and gentlemen
+composed.
+
+On that dreadful day, the Kurd who had mangled him so frightfully that
+he recovered only to limp through life on crutches bent over him and
+shouted in his face:
+
+"Now, you Christian dog, before I cut your throat show me how this
+Christ of yours can be a god!"
+
+"Is it necessary," replied the missionary faintly, "to light a candle
+in order to show a man the midday sun?"
+
+Which was possibly what saved his life, and the lives of his wife and
+child. Your Moslem adores and understands such figurative answers. So
+he left the Reverend Mr. Carew lying half dead in the blackened
+doorway and started cheerfully after a frightened convert praying
+under the compound wall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IN EMBRYO
+
+
+A child on the floor, flat on her stomach in the red light of the
+stove, drawing pictures; her mother by the shaded lamp mending
+stockings; her father reading; a faint odour of kerosene from the
+glass lamp in the room, and the rattle of sleet on roof and window;
+this was one of her childhood memories which never faded through all
+the years of Ruhannah's life.
+
+Of her waking hours she preferred that hour after supper when, lying
+prone on the worn carpet, with pencil and paper, just outside the
+lamp's yellow circle of light, her youthful imagination kindled and
+caught fire.
+
+For at that hour the magic of the stove's glowing eyes transformed the
+sitting-room chairs to furtive watchers of herself, made of her
+mother's work-table a sly and spidery thing on legs, crouching in
+ambush; bewitched the ancient cottage piano so that its ivory keys
+menaced her like a row of monstrous teeth.
+
+She adored it all. The tall secretary stared at her with owlish
+significance. Through that neutral veil where lamplight and shadow
+meet upon the wall, the engraved portrait of a famous and godly
+missionary peered down at her out of altered and malicious eyes; the
+claw-footed, haircloth sofa was a stealthy creature offering to entrap
+her with wide, inviting arms; three folded umbrellas leaned over the
+edge of their shadowy stand, looking down at her like scrawny and
+baleful birds, ready to peck at her with crooked handles. And as for
+Adoniram, her lank black cat, the child's restless creative fancy was
+ever transforming him from goblin into warlock, from hydra to
+hippogriff, until the earnestness of pretence sent agreeable shivers
+down her back, and she edged a trifle nearer to her mother.
+
+But when pretence became a bit too real and too grotesque she had
+always a perfect antidote. It was merely necessary to make a quick
+picture of an angel or two, a fairy prince, a swan, and she felt
+herself in their company, and delightfully protected.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+There was a night when the flowing roar of the gale outside filled the
+lamplit silence; when the snow was drifting level with the window
+sills; when Adoniram, unable to prowl abroad, lay curled up tight and
+sound asleep beside her where she sat on the carpet in the stove
+radiance. Wearied of drawing castles and swans, she had been listening
+to her father reading passages aloud from the book on his knees to her
+mother who was sewing by the lamp.
+
+Presently he continued his reading:
+
+"I asked Alaro the angel: 'Which place is this, and which people are
+these?'
+
+"And he answered: 'This place is the star-track; and these are they
+who in the world offered no prayers and chanted no liturgies. Through
+other works they have attained felicity.'"
+
+Her mother nodded, continuing to sew. Ruhannah considered what her
+father had read, then:
+
+"Father?"
+
+"Yes----" He looked down at her absently.
+
+"What were you reading?"
+
+"A quotation from the Sacred Anthology."
+
+"Isn't prayer really necessary?"
+
+Her mother said:
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Then how did those people who offered no prayers go to Heaven?"
+
+Her father said:
+
+"Eternal life is not attained by praise or prayer alone, Ruhannah.
+Those things which alone justify prayer are also necessary."
+
+"What are they?"
+
+"What we really _think_ and what we _do_--both only in Christ's name.
+Without these nothing else counts very much--neither form nor
+convention nor those individual garments called creed and
+denomination, which belief usually wears throughout the world."
+
+Her mother, sewing, glanced gravely down at her daughter:
+
+"Your father is very tolerant of what other people believe--as long as
+they really do believe. Your father thinks that Christ would have
+found friends in Buddha and Mahomet."
+
+"Do such people go to Heaven?" asked Ruhannah, astonished.
+
+"Listen," said her father, reading again:
+
+"'I came to a place and I saw the souls of the liberal, adorned above
+all other souls in splendour. And it seemed to me sublime.
+
+"'I saw the souls of the truthful who walked in lofty splendour. And
+it seemed to me sublime.
+
+"'I saw the souls of teachers and inquirers; I saw the friendly souls
+of interceders and peacemakers; and these walked brilliantly in the
+light. And it seemed to me sublime----'"
+
+He turned to his wife:
+
+"To see and know _is_ sublime. We know, Mary; and Ruhannah is
+intelligent. But in spite of her faith in what she has learned from
+us, like us she must one day travel the common way, seeking for
+herself the reasons and the evidences of immortality."
+
+"Perhaps her faith, Wilbour----"
+
+"Perhaps. But with the intelligent, faith, which is emotional, usually
+follows belief; and belief comes only from reasoning. I think that
+Ruhannah is destined to travel the way of all intelligence when she is
+ready to think for herself."
+
+"I am ready now," said the girl. "I have faith in our Lord Jesus, and
+in my father and mother."
+
+Her father looked at her:
+
+"It is good building material. Some day, God willing, you shall build
+a very lofty temple with it. But the foundation of the temple must
+first be certain. Intelligence ultimately requires reasons for belief.
+You will have to seek them for yourself, Ruhannah. Then, on them build
+your shrine of faith; and nothing shall shake it down."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"And I cannot explain. Only this; as you grow older, all around you in
+the world you will become aware of people, countless millions and
+millions of people, asking themselves--ready with the slightest
+encouragement, or without it, to ask you the question which is the
+most vital of all questions to them. And whatever way it is answered
+always they ask for evidence. You, too, will one day ask for evidence.
+All the world asks for it. But few recognise it as evidence when it is
+offered."
+
+He closed his book and dropped a heavy hand upon it.
+
+"Amid the myriad pursuits and interests and trades and professions of
+the human race, amid their multitudinous aspirations, perplexities,
+doubts, passions, endeavours, deep within every intelligent man
+remains one dominant desire, one persistent question to be answered if
+possible."
+
+"What desire, father?"
+
+"The universal desire for another chance--for immortality. Man's
+never-ending demand for evidence of an immortality which shall
+terminate for him the most tremendous of all uncertainties, which
+shall solve for him the most vital of all questions: What is to become
+of him after physical death? Is he to live again? Is he to see once
+more those whom he loved the best?"
+
+Ruhannah sat thinking in the red stove light, cross-legged, her slim
+ankles clasped in either hand.
+
+"But our souls are immortal," she said at last.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Our Lord Jesus has said it."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then why should anybody not believe it?"
+
+"Try to believe it always. Particularly after your mother and I are no
+longer here, try to believe it.... You are unusually intelligent; and
+if some day your intelligence discovers that it requires evidence for
+belief seek for that evidence. It is obtainable. Try to recognise it
+when you encounter it.... Only, in any event, remember this: never
+alter your early faith, never destroy your childhood's belief until
+evidence to prove the contrary convinces you."
+
+"No.... There is no such evidence, is there, father?"
+
+"I know of none."
+
+"Then," said the girl calmly, "I shall take Christ's evidence that I
+shall live again if I do no evil.... Father?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is there any evidence that Adoniram has no soul?"
+
+"I know of none."
+
+"Is there any that he has a soul?"
+
+"Yes, I think there is."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Not entirely."
+
+"I wonder," mused the girl, looking gravely at the sleeping cat.
+
+It was the first serious doubt that Ruhannah had ever entertained in
+her brief career.
+
+That night she dreamed of the Yellow Devil in Herr Wilner's box, and,
+awaking, remembered her dream. It seemed odd, too, because she had not
+even thought of the Yellow Devil for over a year.
+
+But the menacing Mongol figure seemed bound to intrude into her life
+once more and demand her attention as though resentful of long
+oblivion and neglect; for, a week later, an old missionary from
+Indo-China--a native Chinese--who had lectured at the Baptist Church
+in Gayfield the evening previous, came to pay his respects to the
+Reverend Wilbour Carew. And Rue had taken the Yellow Devil from the
+olive-wood box that day and was busily making a pencil drawing of it.
+
+At sight of the figure the native missionary's narrow almond eyes
+opened extremely wide, and he leaned on the table and regarded the
+bronze demon very intently.
+
+Then he took from his pocket and adjusted to his button nose a pair of
+large, horn spectacles; and he carefully examined the Chinese
+characters engraved on the base of the ancient bronze, following them
+slowly with a yellow and clawlike forefinger.
+
+"Can you read what is written there?" inquired the Reverend Mr.
+Carew.
+
+"Yes, brother. This is what is written: 'I am Erlik, Ruler of Chaos
+and of All that Was. The old order passes when I arrive. I bring
+confusion among the peoples; I hurl down emperors; kingdoms crumble
+where I pass; the world begins to rock and tip, spilling nations into
+outer darkness. When there are no more kingdoms and no more kings; no
+more empires and no emperors; and when only the humble till, the
+blameless sow, the pure reap; and when only the teachers teach in the
+shadow of the Tree, and when the Thinker sits unstirring under the
+high stars, then, from the dark edges of the world I let go my grasp
+and drop into those immeasurable deeps from which I came--I, Erlik,
+Ruler of All that Was.'"
+
+After a silence the Reverend Mr. Carew asked whether the figure was a
+very old one.
+
+"It is before the period called 'Han'--a dynasty during which the
+Mongols were a mighty people. This inscription is Mongol. Erlik was
+the Yellow Devil of the Mongols."
+
+"Not a heathen god, then?"
+
+"No, a heathen devil. Their Prince of Darkness."
+
+Ruhannah, pencil in hand, looked curiously at this heathen Prince of
+Darkness, arrived out of the dark ages to sit to her for his scowling
+portrait.
+
+"I wonder what he thinks of America," she said, partly to herself.
+
+The native missionary smiled, picked up the Yellow Devil, shook the
+figure, listening.
+
+"There is something inside," he said; "perhaps jewels. If you drilled
+a hole in him you could find out."
+
+The Reverend Mr. Carew nodded absently:
+
+"Yes; it might be worth while," he said.
+
+"If there is a jewel," repeated the missionary, "you had better take
+it, then cast away the figure. Erlik brings disaster to the land where
+his image is set up."
+
+The Reverend Mr. Carew smiled at his Chinese and Christian confrere's
+ineradicable vein of superstition.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE TRODDEN WAY
+
+
+There came the indeterminate year when Ruhannah finished school and
+there was no money available to send her elsewhere for further
+embellishment, no farther horizon than the sky over the Gayfield
+hills, no other perspective than the main street of Gayfield with the
+knitting mill at the end of it.
+
+So into Gayfield Mill the girl walked, and found a place immediately
+among the unskilled. And her career appeared to be predetermined now,
+and her destiny a simple one--to work, to share the toil and the
+gaieties of Gayfield with the majority of the other girls she knew; to
+marry, ultimately, some boy, some clerk in one of the Gayfield stores,
+some farmer lad, perhaps, possibly a school teacher or a local lawyer
+or physician, or possibly the head of some department in the mill, or
+maybe a minister--she was sufficiently well bred and educated for any
+one of these.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The winter of her seventeenth year found her still very much a child
+at heart, physically backward, a late adolescent, a little shy,
+inclined to silences, romantic, sensitive to all beauty, and
+passionately expressing herself only when curled up by the stove with
+her pencil and the red light of the coals falling athwart the slim
+hand that guided it.
+
+She went sometimes to village parties, learned very easily to dance,
+had no preferences among the youths of Gayfield, no romances. For
+that matter, while she was liked and even furtively admired, her
+slight shyness, reticence, and a vague, indefinite something about her
+seemed to discourage familiar rustic gallantry. Also, she was as thin
+and awkward as an overgrown lad, not thought to be pretty, known to be
+poor. But for all that more than one young man was vaguely haunted at
+intervals by some memory of her grey eyes and the peculiar sweetness
+of her mouth, forgetting for the moment several freckles on the
+delicate bridge of her nose and several more on her sun-tanned
+cheeks.
+
+She had an agreeable time that winter, enchanted to learn dancing,
+happy at "showers" and parties, at sleigh rides and "chicken suppers,"
+and the various species of village gaiety which ranged from moving
+pictures every Thursday and Saturday nights to church entertainments,
+amateur theatricals at the town hall, and lectures under the auspices
+of the aristocratic D. O. F.--Daughters of the Old Frontier.
+
+But she never saw any boy she preferred to any other, never was
+conscious of being preferred, excepting once--and she was not quite
+certain about that.
+
+It was old Dick Neeland's son, Jim--vaguely understood to have been
+for several years in Paris studying art--and who now turned up in
+Gayfield during Christmas week.
+
+Ruhannah remembered seeing him on several occasions when she was a
+little child. He was usually tramping across country with his sturdy
+father, Dick Neeland of Neeland's Mills--an odd, picturesque pair with
+their setter dogs and burnished guns, and old Dick's face as red as a
+wrinkled winter apple, and his hair snow-white.
+
+There was six years' difference between their ages, Jim Neeland's and
+hers, and she had always considered him a grown and formidable man in
+those days. But that winter, when somebody at the movies pointed him
+out to her, she was surprised to find him no older than the other
+youths she skated with and danced with.
+
+Afterward, at a noisy village party, she saw him dancing with every
+girl in town, and the drop of Irish blood in this handsome, careless
+young fellow established him at once as a fascinating favourite.
+
+Rue became quite tremulous over the prospect of dancing with him.
+Presently her turn came; she rose with a sudden odd loss of
+self-possession as he was presented, stood dumb, shy, unresponsive,
+suffered him to lead her out, became slowly conscious that he danced
+rather badly. But awe of him persisted even when he trod on her
+slender foot.
+
+He brought her an ice afterward, and seated himself beside her.
+
+"I'm a clumsy dancer," he said. "How many times did I spike you?"
+
+She flushed and would have found a pleasant word to reassure him, but
+discovered nothing to say, it being perfectly patent to them both that
+she had retired from the floor with a slight limp.
+
+"I'm a steam roller," he repeated carelessly. "But you dance very
+well, don't you?"
+
+"I have only learned to dance this winter."
+
+"I thought you an expert. Do you live here?"
+
+"Yes.... I mean I live at Brookhollow."
+
+"Funny. I don't remember you. Besides, I don't know your name--people
+mumble so when they introduce a man."
+
+"I'm Ruhannah Carew."
+
+"Carew," he repeated, while a crease came between his eyebrows. "Of
+Brookhollow---- Oh, I know! Your father is the retired missionary--red
+house facing the bridge."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Certainly," he said, taking another look at her; "you're the little
+girl daddy and I used to see across the fields when we were shooting
+woodcock in the willows."
+
+"I remember you," she said.
+
+"I remember _you_!"
+
+She coloured gratefully.
+
+"Because," he added, "dad and I were always afraid you'd wander into
+range and we'd pepper you from the bushes. You've grown a lot, haven't
+you?" He had a nice, direct smile though his speech and manners were a
+trifle breezy, confident, and _sans facon_. But he was at that
+age--which succeeds the age of bumptiousness--with life and career
+before him, attainment, realisation, success, everything the mystery
+of life holds for a young man who has just flung open the gates and
+who takes the magic road to the future with a stride instead of his
+accustomed pace.
+
+He was already a man with a profession, and meant that she should
+become aware of it.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Later in the evening somebody told her what a _personage_ he had
+become, and she became even more deeply thrilled, impressed, and
+tremulously desirous that he should seek her out again, not venturing
+to seek him, not dreaming of encouraging him to notice her by glance
+or attitude--not even knowing, as yet, how to do such things. She
+thought he had already forgotten her existence.
+
+But that this thin, freckled young thing with grey eyes ought to
+learn how much of a man he was remained somewhere in the back of
+Neeland's head; and when he heard his hostess say that somebody would
+have to see Rue Carew home, he offered to do it. And presently went
+over and asked the girl if he might--not too patronisingly.
+
+In the cutter, under fur, with the moonlight electrically brilliant
+and the world buried in white, she ventured to speak of his art,
+timidly, as in the presence of the very great.
+
+"Oh, yes," he said. "I studied in Paris. Wish I were back there. But
+I've got to draw for magazines and illustrated papers; got to make a
+living, you see. I teach at the Art League, too."
+
+"How happy you must be in your career!" she said, devoutly meaning it,
+knowing no better than to say it.
+
+"It's a business," he corrected her, kindly.
+
+"But--yes--but it is art, too."
+
+"Oh, art!" he laughed. It was the fashion that year to shrug when art
+was mentioned--reaction from too much gabble.
+
+"We don't busy ourselves with art; we busy ourselves with business.
+When they use my stuff I feel I'm getting on. You see," he admitted
+with reluctant honesty, "I'm young at it yet--I haven't had very much
+of my stuff in magazines yet."
+
+After a silence, cursed by an instinctive truthfulness which always
+spoiled any little plan to swagger:
+
+"I've had several--well, about a dozen pictures reproduced."
+
+One picture accepted by any magazine would have awed her sufficiently.
+The mere fact that he was an artist had been enough to impress her.
+
+"Do you care for that sort of thing--drawing, painting, I mean?" he
+inquired kindly.
+
+She drew a quick breath, steadied her voice, and said she did.
+
+"Perhaps you may turn out stuff yourself some day."
+
+She scarcely knew how to take the word "stuff." Vaguely she surmised
+it to be professional vernacular.
+
+She admitted shyly that she cared for nothing so much as drawing, that
+she longed for instruction, but that such a dream was hopeless.
+
+At first he did not comprehend that poverty barred the way to her; he
+urged her to cultivate her talent, bestowed advice concerning the Art
+League, boarding houses, studios, ways, means, and ends, until she
+felt obliged to tell him how far beyond her means such magic
+splendours lay.
+
+He remained silent, sorry for her, thinking also that the chances were
+against her having any particular talent, consoling a heart that was
+unusually sympathetic and tender with the conclusion that this girl
+would be happier here in Brookhollow than scratching around the
+purlieus of New York to make both ends meet.
+
+"It's a tough deal," he remarked abruptly. "--I mean this art stuff.
+You work like the dickens and kick your heels in ante-rooms. If they
+take your stuff they send you back to alter it or redraw it. _I_ don't
+know how anybody makes a living at it--in the beginning."
+
+"Don't _you_?"
+
+"I? No." He reddened; but she could not notice it in the moonlight.
+"No," he repeated; "I have an allowance from my father. I'm new at it
+yet."
+
+"Couldn't a man--a girl--support herself by drawing pictures for
+magazines?" she inquired tremulously.
+
+"Oh, well, of course there are some who have arrived--and they manage
+to get on. Some even make wads, you know."
+
+"W-wads?" she repeated, mystified.
+
+"I mean a lot of money. There's that girl on the _Star_, Jean
+Throssel, who makes all kinds of wealth, they say, out of her spidery,
+filmy girls in ringlets and cheesecloth dinner gowns."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes, Jean Throssel, and that Waythorne girl, Belinda Waythorne, you
+know--does all that stuff for _The Looking Glass_--futurist graft, no
+mouths on her people--she makes _hers_, I understand."
+
+It was rather difficult for Rue to follow him amid the vernacular
+mazes.
+
+"Then, of course," he continued, "men like Alexander Fairless and
+Philip Lightwood who imitates him, make fortunes out of their drawing.
+I could name a dozen, perhaps. But the rest--hard sledding, Miss
+Carew!"
+
+"Is it _very_ hard?"
+
+"Well, I don't know what on earth I'd do if dad didn't back me as his
+fancy."
+
+"A father ought to, if he can afford it."
+
+"Oh, I'll pay my way some day. It's in me. I feel it; I know it. I'll
+make plenty of money," he assured her confidently.
+
+"I'm sure you will."
+
+"Thank you," he smiled. "My friends tell me I've got it in me. I have
+one friend in particular--the Princess Mistchenka--who has all kinds
+of confidence in my future. When I'm blue she bolsters me up. She's
+quite wonderful. I owe her a lot for asking me to her Sunday nights
+and for giving me her friendship."
+
+"A--a princess?" whispered the girl, who had drawn pictures of
+thousands but was a little startled to realise that such fabled
+creatures really exist.
+
+"Is she _very_ beautiful?" she added.
+
+"She's tremendously pretty."
+
+"Her--clothes are very beautiful, I suppose," ventured Rue.
+
+"Well--they're very--smart. Everything about her is smart. Her Sunday
+night suppers are wonderful. You meet people who do things--all
+sorts--everybody who is somebody."
+
+He turned to her frankly:
+
+"I think myself very lucky that the Princess Mistchenka should be my
+friend, because, honestly, Miss Carew, I don't see what there is in me
+to interest such a woman."
+
+Rue thought she could see, but remained silent.
+
+"If I had my way," said Neeland, a few moments later, "I'd drop
+illustrating and paint battle scenes. But it wouldn't pay, you see."
+
+"Couldn't you support yourself by painting battles?"
+
+"Not yet," he said honestly. "Of course I have hopes--intentions----"
+he laughed, drew his reins; the silvery chimes clashed and jingled and
+flashed in the moonlight; they had arrived.
+
+At the door he said:
+
+"I hope some day you'll have a chance to take lessons. Thank you for
+dancing with me.... If you ever do come to New York to study, I hope
+you'll let me know."
+
+"Yes," she said, "I will."
+
+He was halfway to his sleigh, looked back, saw her looking back as she
+entered the lighted doorway.
+
+"Good night, Rue," he said impulsively, warmly sorry for her.
+
+"Good night," she said.
+
+The drop of Irish blood in him prompted him to go back to where she
+stood framed in the lighted doorway. And the same drop was no doubt
+responsible for his taking her by the waist and tilting back her head
+in its fur hood and kissing her soft, warm lips.
+
+She looked up at him in a flushed, bewildered sort of way, not
+resisting; but his eyes were so gay and mischievous, and his quick
+smile so engaging that a breathless, uncertain smile began to edge her
+lips; and it remained stamped there, stiffening even after he had
+jumped into his cutter and had driven away, jingling joyously out into
+the dazzling moonshine.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+In bed, the window open, and the covers pulled to her chin, Rue lay
+wakeful, living over again the pleasures of the evening; and Neeland's
+face was always before her open eyes, and his pleasant voice seemed to
+be sounding in her ears. As for the kiss, it did not trouble her.
+Girls she went with were not infrequently so saluted by boys. That,
+being her own first experience, was important only in that degree. And
+she shyly thought the experience agreeable. And, as she recalled,
+revived, and considered all that Neeland had said, it seemed to her
+that this young man led an enchanted life and that such as he were
+indeed companions fit for princesses.
+
+"Princess Mistchenka," she repeated aloud to herself. And somehow it
+sounded vaguely familiar to the girl, as though somewhere, long ago,
+she had heard another voice pronounce the name.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+EX MACHINA
+
+
+After she had become accustomed to the smell of rancid oil and
+dyestuffs and the interminable racket of machinery she did not find
+her work at the knitting mill disagreeable. It was like any work, she
+imagined, an uninteresting task which had to be done.
+
+The majority of the girls and young men of the village worked there in
+various capacities; wages were fair, salaries better, union
+regulations prevailed. There was nothing to complain of.
+
+And nothing to expect except possible increase in wages, holidays, and
+a disquieting chance of getting caught in the machinery, which
+familiarity soon discounted.
+
+As for the social status of the mill workers, the mill _was_ Gayfield;
+and Gayfield was a village where the simpler traditions of the
+Republic still survived; where there existed no invidious distinction
+in vocations; a typical old-time community harbouring the remains of a
+Grand Army Post and too many churches of too many denominations; where
+the chance metropolitan stranger was systematically "done"; where
+distrust of all cities and desire to live in them was equalled only by
+a passion for moving pictures and automobiles; where the school
+trustees used double negatives and traced their ancestry to Colonial
+considerables--who, however, had signed their names in "lower case" or
+with a Maltese cross--the world in miniature, with its due proportion
+of petty graft, petty squabbles, envy, kindness, jealousy, generosity,
+laziness, ambition, stupidity, intelligence, honesty, hypocrisy,
+hatred, affection, badness and goodness, as standardised by the code
+established according to folk-ways on earth--in brief, a perfectly
+human community composed of the usual ingredients, worthy and
+unworthy--that was Gayfield, Mohawk County, New York.
+
+Before spring came--before the first robin appeared, and while icy
+roads still lay icy under sunlit pools of snow-water--a whole winter
+indoors, and a sedentary one, had changed the smoothly tanned and
+slightly freckled cheeks of Rue Carew to a thinner and paler oval.
+Under her transparent skin a tea-rose pink came and went; under her
+grey eyes lay bluish shadows. Also, floating particles of dust, fleecy
+and microscopic motes of cotton and wool filling the air in the room
+where Ruhannah worked, had begun to irritate her throat and bronchial
+tubes; and the girl developed an intermittent cough.
+
+When the first bluebird arrived in Gayfield the cough was no longer
+intermittent; and her mother sent her to the village doctor. So Rue
+Carew was transferred to the box factory adjoining, in which the mill
+made its own paper boxes, where young women sat all day at intelligent
+machines and fed them with squares of pasteboard and strips of gilt
+paper; and the intelligent and grateful machines responded by turning
+out hundreds and hundreds of complete boxes, all neatly gilded,
+pasted, and labelled. And after a little while Ruhannah was able to
+nourish one of these obliging and responsive machines. And by July her
+cough had left her, and two delicate freckles adorned the bridge of
+her nose.
+
+The half-mile walk from and to Brookhollow twice a day was keeping her
+from rapid physical degeneration. Yet, like all northern American
+summers, the weather became fearfully hot in July and August, and the
+half-mile even in early morning and at six in the evening left her
+listless, nervously dreading the great concrete-lined room, the reek
+of glue and oil, the sweaty propinquity of her neighbours, and the
+monotonous appetite of the sprawling machine which she fed all day
+long with pasteboard squares.
+
+She went to her work in early morning, bareheaded, in a limp pink
+dress very much open at the throat, which happened to be the merciful
+mode of the moment--a slender, sweet-lipped thing, beginning to move
+with grace now--and her chestnut hair burned gold-pale by the sun.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+There came that movable holiday in August, when the annual shutdown
+for repairs closed the mill and box factory during forty-eight
+hours--a matter of prescribing oil and new bearings for the overfed
+machines so that their digestions should remain unimpaired and their
+dispositions amiable.
+
+It was a hot August morning, intensely blue and still, with that slow,
+subtle concentration of suspended power in the sky, ominous of thunder
+brooding somewhere beyond the western edges of the world.
+
+Ruhannah aided her mother with the housework, picked peas and a squash
+and a saucer full of yellow pansies in the weedy little garden, and,
+at noon, dined on the trophies of her husbandry, physically and
+aesthetically.
+
+After dinner, dishes washed and room tidied, she sat down on the
+narrow, woodbine-infested verandah with pencil and paper, and
+attempted to draw the stone bridge and the little river where it
+spread in deeps and shallows above the broken dam.
+
+Perspective was unknown to her; of classic composition she was also
+serenely ignorant, so the absence of these in her picture did not
+annoy her. On the contrary, there was something hideously modern and
+recessional in her vigorous endeavour to include in her drawing
+everything her grey eyes chanced to rest on. She even arose and gently
+urged a cow into the already overcrowded composition, and, having
+accomplished its portrait with Cezanne-like fidelity, was beginning to
+look about for Adoniram to include him also, when her mother called to
+her, holding out a pair of old gloves.
+
+"Dear, we are going to save a little money this year. Do you think you
+could catch a few fish for supper?"
+
+The girl nodded, took the gloves, laid aside her pencil and paper,
+picked up the long bamboo pole from the verandah floor, and walked
+slowly out into the garden.
+
+A trowel was sticking in the dry earth near the flower bed, where
+poppies, and pansies, and petunias, and phlox bordered the walk.
+
+Under a lilac the ground seemed moister and more promising for
+vermicular investigation; she drew on her gloves, dug a few holes with
+the trowel, extracted an angleworm, frowned slightly, holding it
+between gloved fingers, regarding its contortions with pity and
+aversion.
+
+To bait a hook was not agreeable to the girl; she managed to do it,
+however, then shouldering her pole she walked across the road and down
+to the left, through rank grasses and patches of milkweed, bergamot,
+and queen's lace, scattering a cloud of brown and silver-spotted
+butterflies.
+
+Alder, elder, and Indian willow barred her way; rank thickets of
+jewelweed hung vivid blossoming drops across her path; woodbine and
+clematis trailed dainty snares to catch her in their fairy nets; a
+rabbit scurried out from behind the ruined paper mill as she came to
+the swift, shallow water below the dam.
+
+Into this she presently plumped her line, and the next instant jerked
+it out again with a wriggling, silvery minnow flashing on the hook.
+
+Carrying her pole with its tiny, glittering victim dangling aloft, Rue
+hastily retraced her steps to the road, crossed the bridge to the
+further end, seated herself on the limestone parapet, and, swinging
+her pole with both hands, cast line and hook and minnow far out into
+the pond. It was a business she did not care for--this extinguishing
+of the life-spark in anything. But, like her mill work, it appeared to
+be a necessary business, and, so regarding it, she went about it.
+
+The pond above the half-ruined dam lay very still; her captive minnow
+swam about with apparently no discomfort, trailing on the surface of
+the pond above him the cork which buoyed the hook.
+
+Rue, her pole clasped in both hands between her knees, gazed with
+preoccupied eyes out across the water. On the sandy shore, a pair of
+speckled tip-ups ran busily about, dipping and bobbing, or spread
+their white, striped wings to sheer the still surface of the pond,
+swing shoreward with bowed wings again, and resume their formal,
+quaint, and busy manners.
+
+From the interstices of the limestone parapet grew a white
+bluebell--the only one Rue had ever seen. As long as she could
+remember it had come up there every year and bloomed, snow-white amid
+a world of its blue comrades in the grass below. She looked for it
+now, saw it in bud--three sturdy stalks sprouting at right angles
+from the wall and curving up parallel to it. Somehow or other she had
+come to associate this white freak of nature with herself--she
+scarcely knew why. It comforted her, oddly, to see it again, still
+surviving, still delicately vigorous, though where among those stone
+slabs it found its nourishment she never could imagine.
+
+The intense blue of the sky had altered since noon; the west became
+gradually duller and the air stiller; and now, over the Gayfield
+hills, a tall cloud thrust up silvery-edged convolutions toward a
+zenith still royally and magnificently blue.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+She had been sitting there watching her swimming cork for over an hour
+when the first light western breeze arrived, spreading a dainty ripple
+across the pond. Her cork danced, drifted; beneath it she caught the
+momentary glimmer of the minnow; then the cork was jerked under; she
+clasped the pole with all her strength, struck upward; and a heavy
+pickerel, all gold and green, sprang furiously from the water and fell
+back with a sharp splash.
+
+Under the sudden strain of the fish she nearly lost her balance,
+scrambled hastily down from the parapet, propping the pole desperately
+against her body, and stood so, unbending, unyielding, her eyes fixed
+on the water where the taut line cut it at forty-five degrees.
+
+At the same time two men in a red runabout speeding westward caught
+sight of the sharp turn by the bridge which the ruins of the paper
+mill had hidden. The man driving the car might have made it even then
+had he not seen Ruhannah in the centre of the bridge. It was instantly
+all off; so were both mud-guards and one wheel. So were driver and
+passenger, floundering on their backs among the rank grass and wild
+flowers. Ruhannah, petrified, still fast to her fish, gazed at the
+catastrophe over her right shoulder.
+
+A broad, short, squarely built man of forty emerged from the weeds,
+went hastily to the car and did something to it. Noise ceased; clouds
+of steam continued to ascend from the crumpled hood.
+
+The other man, even shorter, but slimmer, sauntered out of a bed of
+milkweed whither he had been catapulted. He dusted with his elbow a
+grey felt hat as he stood looking at the wrecked runabout; his
+comrade, still clutching a cigar between his teeth, continued to
+examine the car.
+
+"Hell!" remarked the short, thickset man.
+
+"It's going to rain like it, too," added the other. The thunder boomed
+again beyond Gayfield hills.
+
+"What do you know about this!" growled the thickset man, in utter
+disgust. "Do we hunt for a garage, or what?"
+
+"It's up to you, Eddie. And say! What was the matter with you? Don't
+you know a bridge when you see one?"
+
+"That damn girl----" He turned and looked at Ruhannah, who was
+dragging the big flapping pickerel over the parapet by main strength.
+
+The men scowled at her in silence, then the one addressed as Eddie
+rolled his cigar grimly into the left corner of his jaw.
+
+"Damn little skirt," he observed briefly. "It seems to worry her a lot
+what she's done to us."
+
+"I wonder does she know she wrecked us," suggested the other. He was a
+stunted, wiry little man of thirty-five. His head seemed slightly too
+large; he had a pasty face with the sloe-black eyes, button nose, and
+the widely chiselled mouth of a circus clown.
+
+The eyes of the short, thickset man were narrow and greyish green in a
+round, smoothly shaven face. They narrowed still more as the thunder
+broke louder from the west.
+
+Ruhannah, dragging her fish over the grass, was coming toward them;
+and the man called Eddie stepped forward to bar her progress.
+
+"Say, girlie," he began, the cigar still tightly screwed into his
+cheek, "is there a juice mill anywhere near us, d'y'know?"
+
+"What?" said Rue.
+
+"A garage."
+
+"Yes; there is one at Gayfield."
+
+"How far, girlie?"
+
+Rue flushed, but answered:
+
+"It is half a mile to Gayfield."
+
+The other man, noticing the colour in Ruhannah's face, took off his
+pearl-grey hat. His language was less grammatical than his friend's,
+but his instincts were better.
+
+"Thank you," he said--his companion staring all the while at the girl
+without the slightest expression. "Is there a telephone in any of them
+houses, miss?"--glancing around behind him at the three edifices which
+composed the crossroads called Brookhollow.
+
+"No," said Rue.
+
+It thundered again; the world around had become very dusky and silent
+and the flash veined a rapidly blackening west.
+
+"It's going to rain buckets," said the man called Eddie. "If you live
+around here, can you let us come into your house till it's over,
+gir--er--miss?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'm Mr. Brandes--Ed Brandes of New York----" speaking through
+cigar-clutching teeth. "This is Mr. Ben Stull, of the same.... It's
+raining already. Is that your house?"
+
+"I live _there_," said Rue, nodding across the bridge. "You may go
+in."
+
+She walked ahead, dragging the fish; Stull went to the car, took two
+suitcases from the boot; Brandes threw both overcoats over his arm,
+and followed in the wake of Ruhannah and her fish.
+
+"No Saratoga and no races today, Eddie," remarked Stull. But Brandes'
+narrow, grey-green eyes were following Ruhannah.
+
+"It's a pity," continued Stull, "somebody didn't learn you to drive a
+car before you ask your friends joy-riding."
+
+"Aw--shut up," returned Brandes slowly, between his teeth.
+
+They climbed the flight of steps to the verandah, through a rapidly
+thickening gloom which was ripped wide open at intervals by
+lightning.
+
+So Brandes and his shadow, Bennie Stull, came into the home of
+Ruhannah Carew.
+
+Her mother, who had observed their approach from the window, opened
+the door.
+
+"Mother," said Ruhannah, "here is the fish I caught--and two
+gentlemen."
+
+With which dubious but innocent explanation she continued on toward
+the kitchen, carrying her fish.
+
+Stull offered a brief explanation to account for their plight and
+presence; Brandes, listening and watching the mother out of greenish,
+sleepy eyes, made up his mind concerning her.
+
+While the spare room was being prepared by mother and daughter, he and
+Stull, seated in the sitting-room, their hats upon their knees,
+exchanged solemn commonplaces with the Reverend Mr. Carew.
+
+Brandes, always the gambler, always wary and reticent by nature, did
+all the listening before he came to conclusions that relaxed the
+stiffness of his attitude and the immobility of his large, round
+face.
+
+Then, at ease under circumstances and conditions which he began to
+comprehend and have an amiable contempt for, he became urbane and
+conversational, and a little amused to find navigation so simple, even
+when out of his proper element.
+
+From the book on the invalid's knees, Brandes took his cue; and the
+conversation developed into a monologue on the present condition of
+foreign missions--skilfully inspired by the respectful attention and
+the brief and ingenious questions of Brandes.
+
+"Doubtless," concluded the Reverend Mr. Carew, "you are familiar with
+the life of the Reverend Adoniram Judson, Mr. Brandes."
+
+It turned out to be Brandes' favourite book.
+
+"You will recollect, then, the amazing conditions in India which
+confronted Dr. Judson and his wife."
+
+Brandes recollected perfectly--with a slow glance at Stull.
+
+"All that is changed," said the invalid. "--God be thanked. And
+conditions in Armenia are changing for the better, I hope."
+
+"Let us hope so," returned Brandes solemnly.
+
+"To doubt it is to doubt the goodness of the Almighty," said the
+Reverend Mr. Carew. His dreamy eyes became fixed on the rain-splashed
+window, burned a little with sombre inward light.
+
+"In Trebizond," he began, "in my time----"
+
+His wife came into the room, saying that the spare bedchamber was
+ready and that the gentlemen might wish to wash before supper, which
+would be ready in a little while.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+On their way upstairs they encountered Ruhannah coming down. Stull
+passed with a polite grunt; Brandes ranged himself for the girl to
+pass him.
+
+"Ever so much obliged to you, Miss Carew," he said. "We have put you
+to a great deal of trouble, I am sure."
+
+Rue looked up surprised, shy, not quite understanding how to reconcile
+his polite words and pleasant voice with the voice and manner in which
+he had addressed her on the bridge.
+
+"It is no trouble," she said, flushing slightly. "I hope you will be
+comfortable."
+
+And she continued to descend the stairs a trifle more hastily, not
+quite sure she cared very much to talk to that kind of man.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+In the spare bedroom, whither Stull and Brandes had been conducted,
+the latter was seated on the big and rather shaky maple bed, buttoning
+a fresh shirt and collar, while Stull took his turn at the basin. Rain
+beat heavily on the windows.
+
+"Say, Ben," remarked Brandes, "you want to be careful when we go
+downstairs that the old guy don't spot us for sporting men. He's a
+minister, or something."
+
+Stull lifted his dripping face of a circus clown from the basin.
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"I say we don't want to give the old people a shock. You know what
+they'd think of us."
+
+"What do I care what they think?"
+
+"Can't you be polite?"
+
+"I can be better than that; I can be honest," said Stull, drying his
+sour visage with a flimsy towel.
+
+After Brandes had tied his polka-dotted tie carefully before the
+blurred mirror:
+
+"What do you mean by that?" he asked stolidly.
+
+"Ah--I know what I mean, Eddie. So do you. You're a smooth talker, all
+right. You can listen and look wise, too, when there's anything in it
+for you. Just see the way you got Stein to put up good money for you!
+And all you done was to listen to him and keep your mouth shut."
+
+Brandes rose with an air almost jocular and smote Stull upon the
+back.
+
+"Stein thinks he's the greatest manager on earth. Let him tell you so
+if you want anything out of him," he said, walking to the window.
+
+The volleys of rain splashing on the panes obscured the outlook;
+Brandes flattened his nose against the glass and stood as though lost
+in thought.
+
+Behind him Stull dried his features, rummaged in the suitcase,
+produced a bathrobe and slippers, put them on, and stretched himself
+out on the bed.
+
+"Aren't you coming down to buzz the preacher?" demanded Brandes,
+turning from the drenched window.
+
+"So you can talk phony to the little kid? No."
+
+"Ah, get it out of your head that I mean phony."
+
+"Well, what do you mean?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+Stull gave him a contemptuous glance and turned over on the pillow.
+
+"Are you coming down?"
+
+"No."
+
+So Brandes took another survey of himself in the glass, used his comb
+and brushes again, added a studied twist to his tie, shot his cuffs,
+and walked out of the room with the solid deliberation which
+characterised his carriage at all times.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE END OF SOLITUDE
+
+
+A rain-washed world, smelling sweet as a wet rose, a cloudless sky
+delicately blue, and a swollen stream tumbling and foaming under the
+bridge--of these Mr. Eddie Brandes was agreeably conscious as he
+stepped out on the verandah after breakfast, and, unclasping a large
+gold cigar case, inserted a cigar between his teeth.
+
+He always had the appearance of having just come out of a Broadway
+barber shop with the visible traces of shave, shampoo, massage, and
+manicure patent upon his person.
+
+His short, square figure was clothed in well-cut blue serge; a smart
+straw hat embellished his head, polished russet shoes his remarkably
+small feet. On his small fat fingers several heavy rings were
+conspicuous. And the odour of cologne exhaled from and subtly pervaded
+the ensemble.
+
+Across the road, hub-deep in wet grass and weeds, he could see his
+wrecked runabout, glistening with raindrops.
+
+He stood for a while on the verandah, both hands shoved deep into his
+pockets, his cigar screwed into his cheek. From time to time he
+jingled keys and loose coins in his pockets. Finally he sauntered down
+the steps and across the wet road to inspect the machine at closer
+view.
+
+Contemplating it tranquilly, head on one side and his left eye closed
+to avoid the drifting cigar smoke, he presently became aware of a
+girl in a pink print dress leaning over the grey parapet of the
+bridge. And, picking his way among the puddles, he went toward her.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Carew," he said, taking off his straw hat.
+
+She turned her head over her shoulder; the early sun glistened on his
+shiny, carefully parted hair and lingered in glory on a diamond scarf
+pin.
+
+"Good morning," she said, a little uncertainly, for the memory of
+their first meeting on the bridge had not entirely been forgotten.
+
+"You had breakfast early," he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+He kept his hat off; such little courtesies have their effect; also it
+was good for his hair which, he feared, had become a trifle thinner
+recently.
+
+"It is beautiful weather," said Mr. Brandes, squinting at her through
+his cigar smoke.
+
+"Yes." She looked down into the tumbling water.
+
+"This is a beautiful country, isn't it, Miss Carew?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+With his head a little on one side he inspected her. There was only
+the fine curve of her cheek visible, and a white neck under the
+chestnut hair; and one slim, tanned hand resting on the stone
+parapet.
+
+"Do you like motoring?" he asked.
+
+She looked up:
+
+"Yes.... I have only been out a few times."
+
+"I'll have another car up here in a few days. I'd like to take you
+out."
+
+She was silent.
+
+"Ever go to Saratoga?" he inquired.
+
+"No."
+
+"I'll take you to the races--with your mother. Would you like to go?"
+
+She remained silent so long that he became a trifle uneasy.
+
+"With your mother," he repeated, moving so he could see a little more
+of her face.
+
+"I don't think mother would go," she said.
+
+"Would she let you go?"
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"There's nothing wrong with racing," he said, "if you don't bet money
+on the horses."
+
+But Rue knew nothing about sport, and her ignorance as well as the
+suggested combination of Saratoga, automobile, and horse racing left
+her silent again.
+
+Brandes sat down on the parapet of the bridge and held his straw hat
+on his fat knees.
+
+"Then we'll make it a family party," he said, "your father and mother
+and you, shall we? And we'll just go off for the day."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"Would you like it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Will you go?"
+
+"I--work in the mill."
+
+"Every day?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How about Sunday?"
+
+"We go to church.... I don't know.... Perhaps we might go in the
+afternoon."
+
+"I'll ask your father," he said, watching the delicately flushed face
+with odd, almost sluggish persistency.
+
+His grey-green eyes seemed hypnotised; he appeared unable to turn them
+elsewhere; and she, gradually becoming conscious of his scrutiny,
+kept her own eyes averted.
+
+"What were you looking at in the water?" he asked.
+
+"I was looking for our boat. It isn't there. I'm afraid it has gone
+over the dam."
+
+"I'll help you search for it," he said, "when I come back from the
+village. I'm going to walk over and find somebody who'll cart that
+runabout to the railroad station.... You're not going that way, are
+you?" he added, rising.
+
+"No."
+
+"Then----" he lifted his hat high and put it on with care--"until a
+little later, Miss Carew.... And I want to apologise for speaking so
+familiarly to you yesterday. I'm sorry. It's a way we get into in New
+York. Broadway isn't good for a man's manners.... Will you forgive me,
+Miss Carew?"
+
+Embarrassment kept her silent; she nodded her head, and finally turned
+and looked at him. His smile was agreeable.
+
+She smiled faintly, too, and rose.
+
+"Until later, then," he said. "This is the Gayfield road, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She turned and walked toward the house; and as though he could not
+help himself he walked beside her, his hat in his hand once more.
+
+"I like this place," he said. "I wonder if there is a hotel in
+Gayfield."
+
+"The Gayfield House."
+
+"Is it _very_ bad?" he asked jocosely.
+
+She seemed surprised. It was considered good, she thought.
+
+With a slight, silent nod of dismissal she crossed the road and went
+into the house, leaving him standing beside his wrecked machine once
+more, looking after her out of sluggish eyes.
+
+Presently, from the house, emerged Stull, his pasty face startling in
+its pallor under the cloudless sky, and walked slowly over to
+Brandes.
+
+"Well, Ben," said the latter pleasantly, "I'm going to Gayfield to
+telegraph for another car."
+
+"How soon can they get one up?" inquired Stull, inserting a large
+cigar into his slitted mouth and lighting it.
+
+"Oh, in a couple of days, I guess. I don't know. I don't care much,
+either."
+
+"We can go on to Saratoga by train," suggested Stull complacently.
+
+"We can stay here, too."
+
+"What for?"
+
+Brandes said in his tight-lipped, even voice:
+
+"The fishing's good. I guess I'll try it." He continued to contemplate
+the machine, but Stull's black eyes were turned on him intently.
+
+"How about the races?" he asked. "Do we go or not?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"When?"
+
+"When they send us a car to go in."
+
+"Isn't the train good enough?"
+
+"The fishing here is better."
+
+Stull's pasty visage turned sourer:
+
+"Do you mean we lose a couple of days in this God-forsaken dump
+because you'd rather go to Saratoga in a runabout than in a train?"
+
+"I tell you I'm going to stick around for a while."
+
+"For how long?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. When we get our car we can talk it over and----"
+
+"Ah," ejaculated Stull in disgust, "what the hell's the matter with
+you? Is it that little skirt you was buzzing out here like you never
+seen one before?"
+
+"How did you guess, Ben?" returned Brandes with the almost
+expressionless jocularity that characterised him at times.
+
+"_That_ little red-headed, spindling, freckled, milk-fed
+mill-hand----"
+
+"Funny, ain't it? But there's no telling what will catch the tired
+business man, is there, Ben?"
+
+"Well, what does catch him?" demanded Stull angrily. "What's the
+answer?"
+
+"I guess she's the answer, Ben."
+
+"Ah, leave the kid alone----"
+
+"I'm going to have the car sent up here. I'm going to take her out. Go
+on to Saratoga if you want to. I'll meet you there----"
+
+"When?"
+
+"When I'm ready," replied Brandes evenly. But he smiled.
+
+Stull looked at him, and his white face, soured by dyspepsia, became
+sullen with wrath. At such times, too, his grammar suffered from
+indigestion.
+
+"Say, Eddie," he began, "can't no one learn you nothin' at all? How
+many times would you have been better off if you'd listened to me?
+Every time you throw me you hand yourself one. Now that you got a
+little money again and a little backing, don't do anything like
+_that_----"
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Like chasin' dames! Don't act foolish like you done in Chicago last
+summer! You wouldn't listen to me then, would you? And that Denver
+business, too! Say, look at all the foolish things you done against
+all I could say to save you--like backing that cowboy plug against
+Battling Jensen!--Like taking that big hunk o' beef, Walstein, to San
+Antonio, where Kid O'Rourke put him out in the first! And everybody's
+laughing at you yet! Ah----" he exclaimed angrily, "somebody tell me
+why I don't quit you, you big dill pickle! I wish someone would tell
+me why I stand for you, because I don't know.... And look what you're
+doing now; you got some money of your own and plenty of syndicate
+money to put on the races and a big comish! You got a good theayter in
+town with Morris Stein to back you and everything--and look what
+you're doing!" he ended bitterly.
+
+Brandes tightened his dental grip on his cigar and squinted at him
+good-humouredly.
+
+"Say, Ben," he said, "would you believe it if I told you I'm stuck on
+her?"
+
+"Ah, you'd fall for anything. I never seen a skirt you wouldn't
+chase."
+
+"I don't mean that kind."
+
+"What kind, then?"
+
+"This is on the level, Ben."
+
+"What! Ah, go on! _You_ on the level?"
+
+"All the same, I am."
+
+"You can't be on the level! You don't know how."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You got a wife, and you know damn well you have."
+
+"Yes, and she's getting her divorce."
+
+Stull regarded him with habitual and sullen distrust.
+
+"She hasn't got it yet."
+
+"She'll get it. Don't worry."
+
+"I thought you was for fighting it."
+
+"I was going to fight it; but----" His slow, narrow, greenish eyes
+stole toward the house across the road.
+
+"Just like that," he said, after a slight pause; "that's the way the
+little girl hit me. I'm on the level, Ben. First skirt I ever saw that
+I wanted to find waiting dinner for me when I come home. Get me?"
+
+"I don't know whether I do or not."
+
+"Get this, then; she isn't all over paint; she's got freckles, thank
+God, and she smells sweet as a daisy field. Ah, what the hell----" he
+burst out between his parted teeth "--when every woman in New York
+smells like a chorus girl! Don't I get it all day? The whole city
+stinks like a star's dressing room. And I married one! And I'm
+through. I want to get my breath and I'm getting it."
+
+Stull's white features betrayed merely the morbid suffering of
+indigestion; he said nothing and sucked his cigar.
+
+"I'm through," repeated Brandes. "I want a home and a wife--the kind
+that even a fly cop won't pinch on sight--the kind of little thing
+that's over there in that old shack. Whatever I am, I don't want a
+wife like me--nor kids, either."
+
+Stull remained sullenly unresponsive.
+
+"Call her a hick if you like. All right, I want that kind."
+
+No comment from Stull, who was looking at the wrecked car.
+
+"Understand, Ben?"
+
+"I tell you I don't know whether I do or not!"
+
+"Well, what don't you understand?"
+
+"Nothin'.... Well, then, your falling for a kid like that, first crack
+out o' the box. I'm honest; I don't understand it."
+
+"She hit me that way--so help me God!"
+
+"And you're on the level?"
+
+"Absolutely, Ben."
+
+"What about the old guy and the mother? Take 'em to live with you?"
+
+"If she wants 'em."
+
+Stull stared at him in uneasy astonishment:
+
+"All right, Eddie. Only don't act foolish till Minna passes you up.
+And get out of here or you will. If you're on the level, as you say
+you are, you've got to mark time for a good long while yet----"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You don't have to ask me that, do you?"
+
+"Yes, I do. Why? I want to marry her, I tell you. I mean to. I'm
+taking no chances that some hick will do it while I'm away. I'm going
+to stay right here."
+
+"And when the new car comes?"
+
+"I'll keep her humming between here and Saratoga."
+
+"And then what?"
+
+Brandes' greenish eyes rested on the car and he smoked in silence for
+a while. Then:
+
+"Listen, Ben. I'm a busy man. I got to be back in town and I got to
+have a wedding trip too. You know me, Ben. You know what I mean.
+That's me. When I do a thing I do it. Maybe I make plenty of mistakes.
+Hell! I'd rather make 'em than sit pat and do nothing!"
+
+"You're crazy."
+
+"Don't bet on it, Ben. I know what I want. I'm going to make money.
+Things are going big with me----"
+
+"You tinhorn! You always say that!"
+
+"Watch me. I bet you I make a killing at Saratoga! I bet you I make
+good with Morris Stein! I bet you the first show I put on goes big! I
+bet----"
+
+"Ah, can it!"
+
+"Wait! I bet you I marry that little girl in two weeks and she stands
+for it when I tell her later we'd better get married again!"
+
+"Say! Talk sense!"
+
+"I am."
+
+"What'll they do to you if your wife makes a holler?"
+
+"Who ever heard of her or me in the East?"
+
+"You want to take a chance like that?"
+
+"I'll fix it. I haven't got time to wait for Minna to shake me loose.
+Besides, she's in Seattle. I'll fix it so she doesn't hear until she
+gets her freedom. I'll get a license right here. I guess I'll use your
+name----"
+
+"What!" yelled Stull.
+
+"Shut your face!" retorted Brandes. "What do you think you're going to
+do, squeal?"
+
+"You think I'm going to stand for that?"
+
+"Well, then, I won't use your name. I'll use my own. Why not? I mean
+honest. It's dead level. I'll remarry her. I want her, I tell you. I
+want a wedding trip, too, before I go back----"
+
+"With the first rehearsal called for September fifteenth! What's the
+matter with you? Do you think Stein is going to stand for----"
+
+"_You'll_ be on hand," said Brandes pleasantly. "I'm going to Paris
+for four weeks--two weeks there, two on the ocean----"
+
+"You----"
+
+"Save your voice, Ben. That's settled."
+
+Stull turned upon him a dead white visage distorted with fury:
+
+"I hope she throws you out!" he said breathlessly. "You talk about
+being on the level! Every level's crooked with you. You don't know
+what square means; a square has got more than four corners for you! Go
+on! Stick around. I don't give a damn what you do. Go on and do it.
+But I quit right here."
+
+Both knew that the threat was empty. As a shadow clings to a man's
+heels, as a lost soul haunts its slayer, as damnation stalks the
+damned, so had Stull followed Brandes; and would follow to the end.
+Why? Neither knew. It seemed to be their destiny, surviving
+everything--their bitter quarrels, the injustice and tyranny of
+Brandes, his contempt and ridicule sometimes--enduring through
+adversity, even penury, through good and bad days, through abundance
+and through want, through shame and disgrace, through trickery,
+treachery, and triumph--nothing had ever broken the occult bond which
+linked these two. And neither understood why, but both seemed to be
+vaguely conscious that neither was entirely complete without the
+other.
+
+"Ben," said Brandes affably, "I'm going to walk over to Gayfield. Want
+to come?"
+
+They went off, together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+OBSESSION
+
+
+By the end of the week Brandes had done much to efface any unpleasant
+impression he had made on Ruhannah Carew.
+
+The girl had never before had to do with any mature man. She was
+therefore at a disadvantage in every way, and her total lack of
+experience emphasised the odds.
+
+Nobody had ever before pointedly preferred her, paid her undivided
+attention; no man had ever sought her, conversed with her, deferred to
+her, interested himself in her. It was entirely new to her, this
+attention which Brandes paid her. Nor could she make any comparisons
+between this man and other men, because she knew no other men. He was
+an entirely novel experience to her; he had made himself interesting,
+had proved amusing, considerate, kind, generous, and apparently
+interested in what interested her. And if his unfeigned preference for
+her society disturbed and perplexed her, his assiduous civilities
+toward her father and mother were gradually winning from her far more
+than anything he had done for her.
+
+His white-faced, odd little friend had gone; he himself had taken
+quarters at the Gayfield House, where a car like the wrecked one was
+stabled for his use.
+
+He had already taken her father and mother and herself everywhere
+within motoring distance; he had accompanied them to church; he
+escorted her to the movies; he walked with her in the August evenings
+after supper, rowed her about on the pond, fished from the bridge,
+told her strange stories in the moonlight on the verandah, her father
+and mother interested and attentive.
+
+For the career of Mr. Eddie Brandes was capable of furnishing material
+for interesting stories if carefully edited, and related with
+discretion and circumspection. He had been many things to many
+men--and to several women--he had been a tinhorn gambler in the
+Southwest, a miner in Alaska, a saloon keeper in Wyoming, a fight
+promoter in Arizona. He had travelled profitably on popular ocean
+liners until requested to desist; Auteuil, Neuilly, Vincennes, and
+Longchamps knew him as tout, bookie, and, when fitfully prosperous, as
+a plunger. Epsom knew him once as a welcher; and knew him no more.
+
+He had taken a comic opera company through the wheat-belt--one way; he
+had led a burlesque troupe into Arizona and had traded it there for a
+hotel.
+
+"When Eddie _wants_ to talk," Stull used to say, "that smoke,
+_Othello_, hasn't got nothing on him."
+
+However, Brandes seldom chose to talk. This was one of his rare
+garrulous occasions; and, with careful self-censorship, he was making
+an endless series of wonder-tales out of the episodes and _faits
+divers_ common to the experience of such as he.
+
+So, of moving accidents by flood and field this man had a store, and
+he contrived to make them artistically innocuous and perfectly fit for
+family consumption.
+
+Further, two of his friends motored over from Saratoga to see him,
+were brought to supper at the Carews'; and they gave him a clean bill
+of moral health. They were, respectively, "Doc" Curfoot--suave haunter
+of Peacock Alley and gentleman "capper"--whom Brandes introduced as
+the celebrated specialist, Doctor Elbert Curfoot--and Captain Harman
+Quint, partner in "Quint's" celebrated temple of chance--introduced as
+the distinguished navigating officer which he appeared to be. The
+steering for their common craft, however, was the duty of the eminent
+Doc.
+
+They spent the evening on the verandah with the family; and it was
+quite wonderful what a fine fellow each turned out to be--information
+confidentially imparted to the Reverend Mr. Carew by each of the three
+distinguished gentlemen in turn.
+
+Doc Curfoot, whose business included the ability to talk convincingly
+on any topic, took the Reverend Mr. Carew's measure and chose
+literature; and his suave critique presently became an interesting
+monologue listened to in silence by those around him.
+
+Brandes had said, "Put me in right, Doc," and Doc was accomplishing
+it, partly to oblige Brandes, partly for practice. His agreeable voice
+so nicely pitched, so delightfully persuasive, recapitulating all the
+commonplaces and cant phrases concerning the literature of the day,
+penetrated gratefully the intellectual isolation of these humble
+gentlepeople, and won very easily their innocent esteem. With the
+Reverend Mr. Carew Doc discussed such topics as the influence on
+fiction of the ethical ideal. With Mrs. Carew Captain Quint exchanged
+reminiscences of travel on distant seas. Brandes attempted to maintain
+low-voiced conversation with Rue, who responded in diffident
+monosyllables to his advances.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Brandes walked down to their car with them after they had taken their
+leave.
+
+"What's the idea, Eddie?" inquired Doc Curfoot, pausing before the
+smart little speeder.
+
+"It's straight."
+
+"Oh," said Doc, softly, betraying no surprise--about the only thing he
+never betrayed. "Anything in it for you, Eddie?"
+
+"Yes. A good girl. The kind you read about. Isn't that enough?"
+
+"Minna chucked you?" inquired Captain Quint.
+
+"She'll get her decree in two or three months. Then I'll have a home.
+And everything that you and I are keeps out of that home, Cap. See?"
+
+"Certainly," said Quint. "Quite right, Eddie."
+
+Doc Curfoot climbed in and took the wheel; Quint followed him.
+
+"Say," he said in his pleasant, guarded voice, "watch out that Minna
+don't double-cross you, Eddie."
+
+"How?"
+
+"--Or shoot you up. She's some _schutzen-fest_, you know, when she
+turns loose----"
+
+"Ah, I tell you she _wants_ the divorce. Abe Grittlefeld's crazy about
+her. He'll get Abe Gordon to star her on Broadway; and that's enough
+for her. Besides, she'll marry Maxy Venem when she can afford to keep
+him."
+
+"_You_ never understood Minna Minti."
+
+"Well, who ever understood any German?" demanded Brandes. "She's one
+of those sour-blooded, silent Dutch women that make me ache."
+
+Doc pushed the self-starter; there came a click, a low humming.
+Brandes' face cleared and he held out his square-shaped hand:
+
+"You fellows," he said, "have put me right with the old folks here.
+I'll do the same for you some day. Don't talk about this little girl
+and me, that's all."
+
+"All the same," repeated Doc, "don't take any chances with Minna.
+She's on to you, and she's got a rotten Dutch disposition."
+
+"That's right, Doc. And say, Harman,"--to Quint--"tell Ben he's doing
+fine. Tell him to send me what's mine, because I'll want it very soon
+now. I'm going to take a month off and then I'm going to show Stein
+how a theatre can be run."
+
+"Eddie," said Quint, "it's a good thing to think big, but it's a damn
+poor thing to talk big. Cut out the talk and you'll be a big man some
+day."
+
+The graceful car moved forward into the moonlight; his two friends
+waved an airy adieu; and Brandes went slowly back to the dark verandah
+where sat a young girl, pitifully immature in mind and body--and two
+old people little less innocent for all their experience in the ranks
+of Christ, for all the wounds that scarred them both in the over-sea
+service which had broken them forever.
+
+"A very handsome and distinguished gentleman, your friend Dr.
+Curfoot," said the Reverend Mr. Carew. "I imagine his practice in New
+York is not only fashionable but extensive."
+
+"Both," said Brandes.
+
+"I assume so. He seems to be intimately acquainted with people whose
+names for generations have figured prominently in the social columns
+of the New York press."
+
+"Oh, yes, Curfoot and Quint know them all."
+
+Which was true enough. They had to. One must know people from whom one
+accepts promissory notes to liquidate those little affairs peculiar to
+the temple of chance. And New York's best furnished the neophytes for
+these rites.
+
+"I thought Captain Quint very interesting," ventured Ruhannah. "He
+seems to have sailed over the entire globe."
+
+"Naval men are always delightful," said her mother. And, laying her
+hand on her husband's arm in the dark: "Do you remember, Wilbour, how
+kind the officers from the cruiser _Oneida_ were when the rescue party
+took us aboard?"
+
+"God sent the _Oneida_ to us," said her husband dreamily. "I thought
+it was the end of the world for us--for you and me and baby Rue--that
+dreadful flight from the mission to the sea."
+
+His bony fingers tightened over his wife's toilworn hand. In the long
+grass along the creek fireflies sparkled, and their elfin lanterns,
+waning, glowing, drifted high in the calm August night.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Carew gathered his crutches; the night was a trifle
+damp for him; besides, he desired to read. Brandes, as always, rose to
+aid him. His wife followed.
+
+"Don't stay out long, Rue," she said in the doorway.
+
+"No, mother."
+
+Brandes came back. Departing from his custom, he did not light a
+cigar, but sat in silence, his narrow eyes trying to see Ruhannah in
+the darkness. But she was only a delicate shadow shape to him,
+scarcely detached from the darkness that enveloped her.
+
+He meant to speak to her then. And suddenly found he could not,
+realised, all at once, that he lacked the courage.
+
+This was the more amazing and disturbing to him because he could not
+remember the time or occasion when the knack of fluent speech had ever
+failed him.
+
+He had never foreseen such a situation; it had never occurred to him
+that he would find the slightest difficulty in saying easily and
+gracefully what he had determined to say to this young girl.
+
+Now he sat there silent, disturbed, nervous, and tongue-tied. At first
+he did not quite comprehend what was making him afraid. After a long
+while he understood that it was some sort of fear of her--fear of her
+refusal, fear of losing her, fear that she might have--in some occult
+way--divined what he really was, that she might have heard things
+concerning him, his wife, his career. The idea turned him cold.
+
+And all at once he realised how terribly in earnest he had become; how
+deeply involved; how vital this young girl had become to him.
+
+Never before had he really wanted anything as compared to this desire
+of his for her. He was understanding, too, in a confused way, that
+such a girl and such a home for him as she could make was going not
+only to give him the happiness he expected, but that it also meant
+betterment for himself--straighter living, perhaps straighter
+thinking--the birth of something resembling self-respect, perhaps even
+aspiration--or at least the aspiration toward that respect from others
+which honest living dare demand.
+
+He wanted her; he wanted her now; he wanted to marry her whether or
+not he had the legal right; he wanted to go away for a month with her,
+and then return and work for her, for them both--build up a fortune
+and a good reputation with Stein's backing and Stein's theatre--stand
+well with honest men, stand well with himself, stand always, with
+her, for everything a man should be.
+
+If she loved him she would forgive him and quietly remarry him as soon
+as Minna kicked him loose. He was confident he could make her happy,
+make her love him if once he could find courage to speak--if once he
+could win her. And suddenly the only possible way to go about it
+occurred to him.
+
+His voice was a trifle husky and unsteady from the nervous tension
+when he at last broke the silence:
+
+"Miss Rue," he said, "I have a word to say to your father and mother.
+Would you wait here until I come back?"
+
+"I think I had better go in, too----"
+
+"Please don't."
+
+"Why?" She stopped short, instinctively, but not surmising.
+
+"You will wait, then?" he asked.
+
+"I was going in.... But I'll sit here a little while."
+
+He rose and went in, rather blindly.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Ruhannah, dreaming there deep in her splint armchair, slim feet
+crossed, watched the fireflies sailing over the alders. Sometimes she
+thought of Brandes, pleasantly, sometimes of other matters. Once the
+memory of her drive home through the wintry moonlight with young
+Neeland occurred to her, and the reminiscence was vaguely agreeable.
+
+Listless, a trifle sleepy, dreamily watching the fireflies, the
+ceaseless noise of the creek in her ears, inconsequential thoughts
+flitted through her brain--the vague, aimless, guiltless thoughts of a
+young and unstained mind.
+
+She was nearly asleep when Brandes came back, and she looked up at
+him where he stood beside her porch chair in the darkness.
+
+"Miss Rue," he said, "I have told your father and mother that I am in
+love with you and want to make you my wife."
+
+The girl lay there speechless, astounded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A CHANGE IMPENDS
+
+
+The racing season at Saratoga drew toward its close, and Brandes had
+appeared there only twice in person, both times with a very young
+girl.
+
+"If you got to bring her here to the races, can't you get her some
+clothes?" whispered Stull in his ear. "That get-up of hers is
+something fierce."
+
+Late hours, hot weather, indiscreet nourishment, and the feverish
+anxiety incident to betting other people's money had told on Stull.
+His eyes were like two smears of charcoal on his pasty face; sourly he
+went about the business which Brandes should have attended to, nursing
+resentment--although he was doing better than Brandes had hoped to
+do.
+
+Their joint commission from his winnings began to assume considerable
+proportions; at track and club and hotel people were beginning to turn
+and stare when the little man with the face of a sick circus clown
+appeared, always alone, greeting with pallid indifference his
+acquaintances, ignoring overtures, noticing neither sport, nor
+fashion, nor political importance, nor yet the fair and frail whose
+curiosity and envy he was gradually arousing.
+
+Obsequiousness from club, hotel, and racing officials made no
+impression on him; he went about his business alone, sullen,
+preoccupied, deathly pale, asking no information, requesting no
+favours, conferring with nobody, doing no whispering and enduring
+none.
+
+After a little study of that white, sardonic, impossible face, people
+who would have been glad to make use of him became discouraged. And
+those who first had recognised him in Saratoga found, at the end of
+the racing month, nothing to add to their general identification of
+him as "Ben Stull, partner of Eddie Brandes--Western sports."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Stull, whispering in Brandes' ear again, where he sat beside him in
+the grand stand, added to his earlier comment on Ruhannah's
+appearance:
+
+"Why don't you fix her up, Eddie? It looks like you been robbing a
+country school."
+
+Brandes' slow, greenish eyes marked sleepily the distant dust, where
+Mr. Sanford's Nick Stoner was leading a brilliant field, steadily
+overhauling the favourite, Deborah Glenn.
+
+"When the time comes for me to fix her up," he said between thin lips
+which scarcely moved, "she'll look like Washington Square in May--not
+like Fifth Avenue and Broadway."
+
+Nick Stoner continued to lead. Stull's eyes resembled two holes burnt
+in a sheet; Brandes yawned. They were plunging the limit on the
+Sanford favourite.
+
+As for Ruhannah, she sat with slender gloved hands tightly clasped,
+lips parted, intent, fascinated with the sunlit beauty of the scene.
+
+Brandes looked at her, and his heavy, expressionless features altered
+subtly:
+
+"Some running!" he said.
+
+A breathless nod was her response. All around them repressed
+excitement was breaking out; men stood up and shouted; women rose, and
+the club house seemed suddenly to blossom like a magic garden of
+wind-tossed flowers.
+
+Through the increasing cheering Stull looked on without a sign of
+emotion, although affluence or ruin, in the Sanford colours, sat
+astride the golden roan.
+
+Suddenly Ruhannah stood up, one hand pressed to the ill-fitting blue
+serge over her wildly beating heart. Brandes rose beside her. Not a
+muscle in his features moved.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Gawd!" whispered Stull in his ear, as they were leaving.
+
+"Some killing, Ben!" nodded Brandes in his low, deliberate voice. His
+heavy, round face was deeply flushed; Fortune, the noisy wanton, had
+flung both arms around his neck. But his slow eyes were continually
+turned on the slim young girl whom he was teaching to walk beside him
+without taking his arm.
+
+"Ain't she on to us?" Stull had enquired. And Brandes' reply was
+correct; Ruhannah never dreamed that it made a penny's difference to
+Brandes whether Nick Stoner won or whether it was Deborah Glenn which
+the wild-voiced throng saluted.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+They did not remain in Saratoga for dinner. They took Stull back to
+his hotel on the rumble of the runabout, Brandes remarking that he
+thought he should need a chauffeur before long and suggesting that
+Stull look about Saratoga for a likely one.
+
+Halted in the crush before the United States Hotel, Stull decided to
+descend there. Several men in the passing crowds bowed to Brandes;
+one, Norton Smawley, known to the fraternity as "Parson" Smawley, came
+out to the curb to shake hands. Brandes introduced him to Rue as
+"Parson" Smawley--whether with some sinister future purpose already
+beginning to take shape in his round, heavy head, or whether a
+perverted sense of humour prompted him to give Rue the idea that she
+had been in godly company, it is difficult to determine.
+
+He added that Miss Carew was the daughter of a clergyman and a
+missionary. And the Parson took his cue. At any rate Rue, leaning from
+her seat, listened to the persuasive and finely modulated voice of
+Parson Smawley with pleasure, and found his sleek, graceful presence
+and courtly manners most agreeable. There were no such persons in
+Gayfield.
+
+She hoped, shyly, that if he were in Gayfield he would call on her
+father. Once in a very long while clergymen called on her father, and
+their rare visits remained a pleasure to the lonely invalid for
+months.
+
+The Parson promised to call, very gravely. It would not have
+embarrassed him to do so; it was his business in life to have a
+sufficient knowledge of every man's business to enable him to converse
+convincingly with anybody.
+
+He took polished leave of her; took leave of Brandes with the faintest
+flutter of one eyelid, as though he understood Brandes' game. Which he
+did not; nor did Brandes himself, entirely.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+They had thirty miles to go in the runabout. So they would not remain
+to dinner. Besides, Brandes did not care to make himself conspicuous
+in public just then. Too many people knew more or less about him--the
+sort of people who might possibly be in communication with his wife.
+There was no use slapping chance in the face. Two quiet visits to the
+races with Ruhannah was enough for the present. Even those two visits
+were scarcely discreet. It was time to go.
+
+Stull and Brandes stood consulting together beside the runabout; Rue
+sat in the machine watching the press of carriages and automobiles on
+Broadway, and the thronged sidewalks along which brilliant, animated
+crowds were pouring.
+
+"I'm not coming again, Ben," said Brandes, dropping his voice. "No use
+to hunt the limelight just now. You can't tell what some of these
+people might do. I'll take no chances that some fresh guy might try to
+start something."
+
+"Stir up Minna?" Stull's lips merely formed the question, and his eyes
+watched Ruhannah.
+
+"They couldn't. What would she care? All the same, I play safe, Ben.
+Well, be good. Better send me mine on pay day. I'll need it."
+
+Stull's face grew sourer:
+
+"Can't you wait till she gets her decree?"
+
+"And lose a month off? No."
+
+"It's all coming your way, Eddie. Stay wise and play safe. Don't start
+anything now----"
+
+"It's safe. If I don't take September off I wait a year for
+my--honeymoon. And I won't. See?"
+
+They both looked cautiously at Ruhannah, who sat motionless, absorbed
+in the turmoil of vehicles and people.
+
+Brandes' face slowly reddened; he dropped one hand on Stull's shoulder
+and said, between thin lips that scarcely moved:
+
+"She's all I'm interested in. You don't think much of her, Ben. She
+isn't painted. She isn't dolled up the way you like 'em. But there
+isn't anything else that matters very much to me. All I want in the
+world is sitting in that runabout, looking out of her kid eyes at a
+thousand or two people who ain't worth the pair of run-down shoes
+she's wearing."
+
+But Stull's expression remained sardonic and unconvinced.
+
+So Brandes got into his car and took the wheel; and Stull watched them
+threading a tortuous path through the traffic tangle of Broadway.
+
+They sped past the great hotels, along crowded sidewalks, along the
+park, and out into an endless stretch of highway where hundreds of
+other cars were travelling in the same direction.
+
+"Did you have a good time?" he inquired, shifting his cigar and
+keeping his narrow eyes on the road.
+
+"Yes; it was beautiful--exciting."
+
+"Some horse, Nick Stoner! Some race, eh?"
+
+"I was so excited--with everybody standing up and shouting. And such
+beautiful horses--and such pretty women in their wonderful dresses!
+I--I never knew there were such things."
+
+He swung the car, sent it rushing past a lumbering limousine, slowed a
+little, gripped his cigar between his teeth, and watched the road,
+both hands on the wheel.
+
+Yes, things were coming his way--coming faster and faster all the
+while. He had waited many years for this--for material fortune--for
+that chance which every gambler waits to seize when the psychological
+second ticks out. But he never had expected that the chance was to
+include a very young girl in a country-made dress and hat.
+
+As they sped westward the freshening wind from distant pine woods
+whipped their cheeks; north, blue hills and bluer mountains beyond
+took fairy shape against the sky; and over all spread the tremendous
+heavens where fleets of white clouds sailed the uncharted wastes, and
+other fleets glimmered beyond the edges of the world, hull down, on
+vast horizons.
+
+"I want to make you happy," said Brandes in his low, even voice. It
+was, perhaps, the most honest statement he had ever uttered.
+
+Ruhannah remained silent, her eyes riveted on the far horizon.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+It was a week later, one hot evening, that he telegraphed to Stull in
+Saratoga:
+
+"Find me a chauffeur who will be willing to go abroad. I'll give you
+twenty-four hours to get him here."
+
+The next morning he called up Stull on the telephone from the drug
+store in Gayfield:
+
+"Get my wire, Ben?"
+
+"Yes. But I----"
+
+"Wait. Here's a postscript. I also want Parson Smawley. I want him to
+get a car and come over to the Gayfield House. Tell him I count on
+him. And he's to wear black and a white tie."
+
+"Yes. But about that chauffeur you want----"
+
+"Don't argue. Have him here. Have the Parson, also. Tell him to bring
+a white tie. Understand?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I understand you, Eddie! You don't want anything of me, do
+you! Go out and get that combination? Just like that! What'll I do?
+Step into the street and whistle?"
+
+"It's up to you. Get busy."
+
+"_As_ usual," retorted Stull in an acrid voice. "All the same. I'm
+telling you there ain't a chauffeur you'd have in Saratoga. Who handed
+you that dope?"
+
+"Try. I need the chauffeur part of the combine, anyway. If he won't
+go abroad, I'll leave him in town. Get a wiggle on, Ben. How's
+things?"
+
+"All right. We had War-axe and Lady Johnson. Some killing, eh? That
+stable is winning all along. We've got Adriutha and Queen Esther
+today. The Ocean Belle skate is scratched. Doc and Cap and me is thick
+with the Legislature outfit. We'll trim 'em tonight. How are you
+feeling, Eddie?"
+
+"Never better. I'll call you up in the morning. Ding-dong!"
+
+"Wait! Are you really going abroad?" shouted Stull.
+
+But Brandes had already hung up.
+
+He walked leisurely back to Brookhollow through the sunshine. He had
+never been as happy in all his life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+NONRESISTANCE
+
+
+"Long distance calling you, Mr. Stull. One moment, please.... Here's
+your party," concluded the operator.
+
+Stull, huddled sleepily on his bed, picked up the transmitter from the
+table beside him with a frightful yawn.
+
+"Who is it?" he inquired sourly.
+
+"It's me--Ben!"
+
+"Say, Eddie, have a heart, will you! I need the sleep----"
+
+Brandes' voice was almost jovial:
+
+"Wake up, you poor tout! It's nearly noon----"
+
+"Well, wasn't I singing hymns with Doc and Cap till breakfast time?
+And believe _me_, we trimmed the Senator's bunch! They've got their
+transportation back to Albany, and that's about all----"
+
+"Careful what you say. I'm talking from the Gayfield House. The Parson
+got here all right. He's just left. He'll tell you about things.
+Listen, Ben, the chauffeur you sent me from Saratoga got here last
+evening, too. I went out with him and he drives all right. Did you
+look him up?"
+
+"Now, how could I look him up when you gave me only a day to get him
+for you?"
+
+"Did he have references?"
+
+"Sure, a wad of them. But I couldn't verify them."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"I forget his name. You ought to know it by now."
+
+"How did you get him?"
+
+"Left word at the desk. An hour later he came to my room with a couple
+of bums. I told him about the job. I told him you wanted a chauffeur
+willing to go abroad. He said he was all that and then some. So I sent
+him on. Anything you don't fancy about him?"
+
+"Nothing, I guess. He seems all right. Only I like to know about a
+man----"
+
+"How can I find out if you don't give me time?"
+
+"All right, Ben. I guess he'll do. By the way, I'm starting for town
+in ten minutes."
+
+"What's the idea?"
+
+"Ask the Parson. Have you any other news except that you killed that
+Albany bunch of grafters?"
+
+"No.... _Yes_! But it ain't good news. I was going to call you soon as
+I waked up----"
+
+"What's the trouble?"
+
+"There ain't any trouble--_yet_. But a certain party has showed up
+here--a very smooth young man whose business is hunting trouble. Get
+me?"
+
+After a silence Stull repeated:
+
+"Get me, Eddie?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Listen. A certain slippery party----"
+
+"Who, damn it? Talk out. I'm in a hurry."
+
+"Very well, then. Maxy Venem is here!"
+
+The name of his wife's disbarred attorney sent a chill over Brandes.
+
+"What's he doing in Saratoga?" he demanded.
+
+"I'm trying to find out. He was to the races yesterday. He seen Doc.
+Of course Doc hadn't laid eyes on you for a year. Oh, no, indeed!
+Heard you was somewhere South, down and out. I don't guess Maxy was
+fooled none. What we done here in Saratoga is growing too big to hush
+up----"
+
+"What _we've_ done? Whad'ye mean, _we_? I told you to work by yourself
+quietly, Ben, and keep me out of it."
+
+"That's what I done. Didn't I circulate the news that you and me had
+quit partnership? And even then you wouldn't take my advice. Oh, no.
+You must show up here at the track with a young lady----"
+
+"How long has Maxy Venem been in Saratoga?" snapped Brandes.
+
+"He told Doc he just come, but Cap found out he'd been here a week.
+All I hope is he didn't see you with the Brookhollow party----"
+
+"Do you think he _did_?"
+
+"Listen, Eddie. Max is a smooth guy----"
+
+"Find out what he knows! Do you hear?"
+
+"Who? Me? Me try to make Maxy Venem talk? That snake? If he isn't on
+to you now, that would be enough to put him wise. Act like you had
+sense, Eddie. Call that _other matter_ off and slide for town----"
+
+"I can't, Ben."
+
+"You got to!"
+
+"I _can't_, I tell you."
+
+"You're nutty in the head! Don't you suppose that Max is wise to what
+I've been doing here? And don't you suppose he knows damn well that
+you're back of whatever I do? If you ain't crazy you'll call that
+party off for a while."
+
+Brandes' even voice over the telephone sounded a trifle unnatural,
+almost hoarse:
+
+"I can't call it off. _It's done._"
+
+"What's done?"
+
+"What I told you I was going to do."
+
+"_That!_"
+
+"The Parson married us."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Wait! Parson Smawley married us, in church, assisted by the local
+dominie. I didn't count on the dominie. It was her father's idea. He
+butted in."
+
+"Then is it--is it----?"
+
+"That's what I'm not sure about. You see, the Parson did it, but the
+dominie stuck around. Whether he got a half nelson on me I don't know
+till I ask. Anyway, I expected to clinch things--later--so it doesn't
+really matter, unless Max Venem means bad. Does he, do you think?"
+
+"He _always_ does, Eddie."
+
+"Yes, I know. Well, then, I'll wait for a cable from you. And if I've
+got to take three months off in Paris, why I've got to--that's all."
+
+"Good God! What about Stein? What about the theaytre?"
+
+"_You'll_ handle it for the first three months.... Say, I've got to
+go, now. I think she's waiting----"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"My--wife."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes. The chauffeur took her back to the house in the car to put
+something in her suitcase that she forgot. I'm waiting for her here at
+the Gayfield House. We're on our way to town. Going to motor in. Our
+trunks have gone by rail."
+
+After a silence, Stull's voice sounded again, tense, constrained:
+
+"You better go aboard tonight."
+
+"That's right, too."
+
+"What's your ship?"
+
+"_Lusitania._"
+
+"What'll I tell Stein?"
+
+"Tell him I'll be back in a month. You look out for my end. I'll be
+back in time."
+
+"Will you cable me?"
+
+"Sure. And if you get any later information about Max today, call me
+at the Knickerbocker. We'll dine there and then go aboard."
+
+"I get you.... Say, Eddie, I'm that worried! If this break of yours
+don't kill our luck----"
+
+"Don't you believe it! I'm going to fight for what I got till someone
+hands me the count. She's the first thing I ever wanted. I've got her
+and I guess I can keep her.... And listen: there's nothing like her in
+all God's world!"
+
+"When did you do--it?" demanded Stull, coldly.
+
+"This morning at eleven. I just stepped over here to the garage. I'm
+talking to you from the bar. She's back by this time and waiting, I
+guess. So take care of yourself till I see you."
+
+"Same to you, Eddie. And be leery of Max. He's _bad_. When they disbar
+a man like that he's twice as dangerous as he was. His ex-partner, Abe
+Grittlefeld, is a certain party's attorney of record. Ask yourself
+what you'd be up against if that pair of wolves get started after you!
+You know what Max would do to you if he could. And Minna, too!"
+
+"Don't worry."
+
+"I _am_ worrying! And you ought to. You know what you done to Max.
+Don't think he ever forgets. He'll do you if he can, same as Minna
+will."
+
+Brandes' stolid face lost a little of its sanguine colour, where he
+stood in the telephone box behind the bar of the Gayfield House.
+
+Yes, he knew well enough what he had once done to the disbarred lawyer
+out in Athabasca when he was handling the Unknown and Venem, the
+disbarred, was busy looking out for the Athabasca Blacksmith,
+furnishing the corrupt brains for the firm of Venem and Grittlefeld,
+and paying steady court to the prettiest girl in Athabasca, Ilse
+Dumont.
+
+And Brandes' Unknown had almost killed Max Venem's blacksmith; Brandes
+had taken all Venem's money, and then his girl; more than that, he had
+"made" this girl, in the theatrical sense of the word; and he had
+gambled on her beauty and her voice and had won out with both.
+
+Then, while still banking her salary to reimburse himself for his
+trouble with her, he had tired of her sufficiently to prove unfaithful
+to his marriage vows at every opportunity. And opportunities were
+many. Venem had never forgiven him; Ilse Dumont could not understand
+treachery; and Venem's detectives furnished her with food for thought
+that presently infuriated her.
+
+And now she was employing Max Venem, once senior partner in the firm
+of Venem and Grittlefeld, to guide her with his legal advice. She
+wanted Brandes' ruin, if that could be accomplished; she wanted her
+freedom anyway.
+
+Until he had met Rue Carew he had taken measures to fight the
+statutory charges, hoping to involve Venem and escape alimony. Then he
+met Ruhannah, and became willing to pay for his freedom. And he was
+still swamped in the vile bog of charges and countercharges, not yet
+free from it, not yet on solid ground, when the eternal gambler in him
+suggested to him that he take the chance of marrying this young girl
+before he was legally free to do so.
+
+Why on earth did he want to take such a chance? He had only a few
+months to wait. He had never before really cared for any woman. He
+loved her--as he understood love--as much as he was capable of loving.
+If in all the world there was anything sacred to him, it was his
+sentiment regarding Rue Carew. Yet, he was tempted to take the chance.
+Even she could not escape his ruling passion; at the last analysis,
+even she represented to him a gambler's chance. But in Brandes there
+was another streak. He wanted to take the chance that he could marry
+her before he had a right to, and get away with it. But his nerve
+failed. And, at the last moment, he had hedged, engaging Parson
+Smawley to play the lead instead of an ordained clergyman.
+
+All these things he now thought of as he stood undecided, worried, in
+the telephone booth behind the bar at the Gayfield House. Twice Stull
+had spoken, and had been bidden to wait and to hold the wire.
+
+Finally, shaking off the premonition of coming trouble, Brandes called
+again:
+
+"Ben?"
+
+"Yes, I'm listening."
+
+"I'll stay in Paris if there's trouble."
+
+"And throw Stein down?"
+
+"What else is there to do?"
+
+"Well, you can wait, can't you? You don't seem to be able to do that
+any more, but you better learn."
+
+"All right. What next?"
+
+"Make a quick getaway. _Now!_"
+
+"Yes, I'm going at once. Keep me posted, Ben. Be good!"
+
+He hung up and went out to the wide, tree-shaded street where Ruhannah
+sat in the runabout awaiting him, and the new chauffeur stood by the
+car.
+
+He took off his straw hat, pulled a cap and goggles from his pocket.
+His man placed the straw hat in the boot.
+
+"Get what you wanted, Rue?"
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"Been waiting long?"
+
+"I--don't think so."
+
+"All right," he said cheerily, climbing in beside her. "I'm sorry I
+kept you waiting. Had a business matter to settle. Hungry?"
+
+Rue, very still and colourless, said no, with a mechanical smile. The
+chauffeur climbed to the rumble.
+
+"I'll jam her through," nodded Brandes as the car moved swiftly
+westward. "We'll lunch in Albany on time."
+
+Half a mile, and they passed Neeland's Mills, where old Dick Neeland
+stood in his boat out on the pond and cast a glittering lure for
+pickerel.
+
+She caught a glimpse of him--his sturdy frame, white hair, and ruddy
+visage--and a swift, almost wistful memory of young Jim Neeland passed
+through her mind.
+
+But it was a very confused mind--only the bewildered mind of a very
+young girl--and the memory of the boy flashed into its confusion and
+out again as rapidly as the landscape sped away behind the flying
+car.
+
+Dully she was aware that she was leaving familiar and beloved things,
+but could not seem to realise it--childhood, girlhood, father and
+mother, Brookhollow, the mill, Gayfield, her friends, all were
+vanishing in the flying dust behind her, dwindling, dissolving into an
+infinitely growing distance.
+
+They took the gradual slope of a mile-long hill as swallows take the
+air; houses, barns, woods, orchards, grain fields, flew by on either
+side; other cars approaching passed them like cannon balls; the
+sunlit, undulating world flowed glittering away behind; only the
+stainless blue ahead confronted them immovably--a vast, magnificent
+goal, vague with the mystery of promise.
+
+"On this trip," said Brandes, "we may only have time to see the Loove
+and the palaces and all like that. Next year we'll fix it so we can
+stay in Paris and you can study art."
+
+Ruhannah's lips formed the words, "Thank you."
+
+"Can't you learn to call me Eddie?" he urged.
+
+The girl was silent.
+
+"You're everything in the world to me, Rue."
+
+The same little mechanical smile fixed itself on her lips, and she
+looked straight ahead of her.
+
+"Haven't you begun to love me just a little bit, Rue?"
+
+"I like you. You are very kind to us."
+
+"Don't your affection seem to grow a little stronger now?" he urged.
+
+"You are so kind to us," she repeated gratefully; "I like you for
+it."
+
+The utterly unawakened youth of her had always alternately fascinated
+and troubled him. Gambler that he was, he had once understood that
+patience is a gambler's only stock in trade. But now for the first
+time in his career he found himself without it.
+
+"You said," he insisted, "that you'd love me when we were married."
+
+She turned her child's eyes on him in faint surprise:
+
+"A wife loves her husband always, doesn't she?"
+
+"Do _you_?"
+
+"I suppose I shall.... I haven't been married very long--long enough
+to feel as though I am really married. When I begin to realise it I
+shall understand, of course, that I love you."
+
+It was the calm and immature reply of a little girl playing house. He
+knew it. He looked at her pure, perplexed profile of a child and knew
+that what he had said was futile--understood that it was meaningless
+to her, that it was only confusing a mind already dazed--a mind of
+which too much had been expected, too much demanded.
+
+He leaned over and kissed the cold, almost colourless cheek; her
+little mechanical smile came back. Then they remembered the chauffeur
+behind them and Brandes reddened. He was unaccustomed to a man on the
+rumble.
+
+"Could I talk to mother on the telephone when we get to New York?" she
+asked presently, still painfully flushed.
+
+"Yes, darling, of course."
+
+"I just want to hear her voice," murmured Rue.
+
+"Certainly. We can send her a wireless, too, when we're at sea."
+
+That interested her. She enquired curiously in regard to wireless
+telegraphy and other matters concerning ocean steamers.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+In Albany her first wave of loneliness came over her in the stuffy
+dining-room of the big, pretentious hotel, when she found herself
+seated at a small table alone with this man whom she seemed, somehow
+or other, to have married.
+
+As she did not appear inclined to eat, Brandes began to search the
+card for something to tempt her. And, glancing up presently, saw tears
+glimmering in her eyes.
+
+For a moment he remained dumb as though stunned by some sudden and
+terrible accusation--for a moment only. Then, in an unsteady voice:
+
+"Rue, darling. You must not feel lonely and frightened. I'll do
+anything in the world for you. Don't you know it?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I tell you," he said in that even, concentrated voice of his which
+scarcely moved his narrow lips, "I'm just crazy about you. You're my
+own little wife. You're all I care about. If I can't make you happy
+somebody ought to shoot me."
+
+She tried to smile; her full lips trembled; a single tear, brimming,
+fell on the cloth.
+
+"I--don't mean to be silly.... But--Brookhollow seems--ended--forever...."
+
+"It's only forty miles," he said with heavy joviality. "Shall we turn
+around and go back?"
+
+She glanced up at him with an odd expression, as though she hoped he
+meant it; then her little mechanical smile returned, and she dried her
+eyes naively.
+
+"I don't know why I cannot seem to get used to being married," she
+said. "I never thought that getting married would make me
+so--so--lonely."
+
+"Let's talk about art," he suggested. "You're crazy about art and
+you're going to Paris. Isn't that fine."
+
+"Oh, yes----"
+
+"Sure, it's fine. That's where art grows. Artville is Paris' other
+name. It's all there, Rue--the Loove, the palaces, the Latin Quarter,
+the statues, the churches, and all like that."
+
+"What is the Louvre like?" she asked, tremulously, determined to be
+brave.
+
+As he had seen the Louvre only from the outside, his imaginary
+description was cautious, general, and brief.
+
+After a silence, Rue asked whether he thought that their suitcases
+were quite safe.
+
+"Certainly," he smiled. "I checked them."
+
+"And you're sure they are safe?"
+
+"Of course, darling. What worries you?"
+
+And, as she hesitated, he remembered that she had forgotten to put
+something into her suitcase and that the chauffeur had driven her back
+to the house to get it while he himself went into the Gayfield House
+to telephone Stull.
+
+"What was it you went back for, Rue?" he asked.
+
+"One thing I went back for was my money."
+
+"Money? What money?"
+
+"Money my grandmother left me. I was to have it when I married--six
+thousand dollars."
+
+"You mean you have it in your suitcase?" he asked, astonished.
+
+"Yes, half of it."
+
+"A cheque?"
+
+"No, in hundreds."
+
+"Bills?"
+
+"Yes. I gave father three thousand. I kept three thousand."
+
+"In bills," he repeated, laughing. "Is your suitcase locked?"
+
+"Yes. I insisted on having my money in cash. So Mr. Wexall, of the
+Mohawk Bank, sent a messenger with it last evening."
+
+"But," he asked, still immensely amused, "why do you want to travel
+about with three thousand dollars in bills in your suitcase?"
+
+She flushed a little, tried to smile:
+
+"I don't know why. I never before had any money. It is--pleasant to
+know I have it."
+
+"But I'll give you all you want, Rue."
+
+"Thank you.... I have my own, you see."
+
+"Of course. Put it away in some bank. When you want pin money, ask
+me."
+
+She shook her head with a troubled smile.
+
+"I couldn't ask anybody for money," she explained.
+
+"Then you don't have to. We'll fix your allowance."
+
+"Thank you, but I have my money, and I don't need it."
+
+This seemed to amuse him tremendously; and even Rue laughed a little.
+
+"You are going to take your money to Paris?" he asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To buy things?"
+
+"Oh, no. Just to have it with me."
+
+His rather agreeable laughter sounded again.
+
+"So _that_ was what you forgot to put in your suitcase," he said. "No
+wonder you went back for it."
+
+"There was something else very important, too."
+
+"What, darling?"
+
+"My drawings," she explained innocently.
+
+"Your drawings! Do you mean you've got them, too?"
+
+"Yes. I want to take them to Paris and compare them with the pictures
+I shall see there. It ought to teach me a great deal. Don't you think
+so?"
+
+"Are you crazy to study?" he asked, touched to the quick by her utter
+ignorance.
+
+"It's all I dream about. If I could work that way and support myself
+and my father and mother----"
+
+"But, Rue! Wake up! We're married, little girl. You don't have to work
+to support anybody!"
+
+"I--forgot," said the girl vaguely, her confused grey eyes resting on
+his laughing, greenish ones.
+
+Still laughing, he summoned the waiter, paid the reckoning; Ruhannah
+rose as he did; they went slowly out together.
+
+On the sidewalk beside their car stood the new chauffeur, smoking a
+cigarette which he threw away without haste when he caught sight of
+them. However, he touched the peak of his cap civilly, with his
+forefinger.
+
+Brandes, lighting a cigar, let his slow eyes rest on the new man for a
+moment. Then he helped Rue into the tonneau, got in after her, and
+thoughtfully took the wheel, conscious that there was something or
+other about his new chauffeur that he did not find entirely to his
+liking.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+DRIVING HEAD-ON
+
+
+It was mid-afternoon when they began to pass through that series of
+suburbs which the city has flung like a single tentacle northward for
+a hundred miles along the eastern banks of the Hudson.
+
+A smooth road of bluestone with a surface like velvet, rarely broken
+by badly paved or badly worn sections, ran straight south. Past
+mansions standing amid spacious lawns all ablaze with late summer and
+early autumn flowers they sped; past parks, long stretches of walls,
+high fences of wrought iron through which brief glimpses of woodlands
+and splendid gardens caught Rue's eye. And, every now and then,
+slowing down to traverse some village square and emerging from the
+further limits, the great river flashed into view, sometimes glassy
+still under high headlands or along towering parapets of mountains,
+sometimes ruffled and silvery where it widened into bay or inland sea,
+with a glimmer of distant villages on the further shore.
+
+Over the western bank a blinding sun hung in a sky without a cloud--a
+sky of undiluted azure; but farther south, and as the sun declined,
+traces of vapours from the huge but still distant city stained the
+heavens. Gradually the increasing haze changed from palest lavender
+and lemon-gold to violet and rose with smouldering undertones of fire.
+Beneath it the river caught the stains in deeper tones, flowing in
+sombre washes of flame or spreading wide under pastel tints of
+turquoise set with purple.
+
+Now, as the sun hung lower, the smoke of every river boat, every
+locomotive speeding along the shores below, lay almost motionless
+above the water, tinged with the delicate enchantment of declining
+day.
+
+And into this magic veil Rue was passing already through the calm of a
+late August afternoon, through tree-embowered villages and towns, the
+names of which she did not know--swiftly, inexorably passing into the
+iris-grey obscurity where already the silvery points of arc-lights
+stretched away into intricate geometrical designs--faint traceries as
+yet sparkling with subdued lustre under the sunset heavens.
+
+Vast shadowy shapes towered up ahead--outlying public buildings,
+private institutions, industrial plants, bridges of iron and steel,
+the ponderous bowed spans of which crossed wildernesses of railroad
+tracks or craft-crowded waters.
+
+Two enormous arched viaducts of granite stretched away through
+sparkling semi-obscurity--High Bridge and Washington Bridge. Then it
+became an increasing confusion of phantom masses against a fading
+sky--bridges, towers, skyscrapers, viaducts, boulevards, a wilderness
+of streets outlined by the growing brilliancy of electric lamps.
+
+Brandes, deftly steering through the swarming maze of twilight
+avenues, turned east across the island, then swung south along the
+curved parapets and spreading gardens of Riverside Drive.
+
+Perhaps Brandes was tired; he had become uncommunicative, inclined to
+silence. He did point out to her the squat, truncated mass where the
+great General slept; called her attention to the river below, where
+three grey battleships lay. A bugle call from the decks came faintly
+to her ears.
+
+If Rue was tired she did not know it as the car swept her steadily
+deeper amid the city's wonders.
+
+On her left, beyond the trees, the great dwellings and apartments of
+the Drive were already glimmering with light in every window; to the
+right, under the foliage of this endless necklace of parks and
+circles, a summer-clad throng strolled and idled along the river wall;
+and past them moved an unbroken column of automobiles, taxicabs, and
+omnibuses.
+
+At Seventy-second Street they turned to the east across the park, then
+into Fifth Avenue south once more. She saw the name of the celebrated
+avenue on the street corner, turned to glance excitedly at Brandes;
+but his preoccupied face was expressionless, almost forbidding, so she
+turned again in quest of other delightful discoveries. But there was
+nothing to identify for her the houses, churches, hotels, shops, on
+this endless and bewildering avenue of grey stone; as they swung west
+into Forty-second Street, she caught sight of the great marble mass of
+the Library, but had no idea what it was.
+
+Into this dusky canon, aflame with light, they rolled, where street
+lamps, the lamps of vehicles, and electric signs dazzled her
+unaccustomed eyes so that she saw nothing except a fiery vista filled
+with the rush and roar of traffic.
+
+When they stopped, the chauffeur dropped from the rumble and came
+around to where a tall head porter in blue and silver uniform was
+opening the tonneau door.
+
+Brandes said to his chauffeur:
+
+"Here are the checks. Our trunks are at the Grand Central. Get them
+aboard, then come back here for us at ten o'clock."
+
+The chauffeur lifted his hand to his cap, and looked stealthily
+between his fingers at Brandes.
+
+"Ten o'clock," he repeated; "very good, sir."
+
+Rue instinctively sought Brandes' arm as they entered the crowded
+lobby, then remembered, blushed, and withdrew her hand.
+
+Brandes had started toward the desk with the intention of registering
+and securing a room for the few hours before going aboard the steamer;
+but something halted him--some instinct of caution. No, he would not
+register. He sent their luggage to the parcels room, found a maid who
+took Rue away, then went on through into the bar, where he took a
+stiff whisky and soda, a thing he seldom did.
+
+In the toilet he washed and had himself brushed. Then, emerging, he
+took another drink _en passant_, conscious of an odd, dull sense of
+apprehension for which he could not account.
+
+At the desk they told him there was no telephone message for him. He
+sauntered over to the news stand, stared at the display of
+periodicals, but had not sufficient interest to buy even an evening
+paper.
+
+So he idled about the marble-columned lobby, now crowded with a
+typical early-autumn throng in quest of dinner and the various
+nocturnal amusements which the city offers at all times to the
+frequenters of its thousand temples.
+
+Rue came out of the ladies' dressing room, and he went to her and
+guided her into the dining-room on the left, where an orchestra was
+playing. In her blue, provincial travelling gown the slender girl
+looked oddly out of place amid lace and jewels and the delicate tints
+of frail evening gowns, but her cheeks were bright with colour and her
+grey eyes brilliant, and the lights touched her thick chestnut hair
+with a ruddy glory, so that more than one man turned to watch her
+pass, and the idly contemptuous indifference of more than one woman
+ended at her neck and chin.
+
+What Rue ate she never afterward remembered. It was all merely a
+succession of delicious sensations for the palate, for the eye, for
+the ear when the excellent orchestra was playing some gay overture
+from one of the newer musical comedies or comic operas.
+
+Brandes at times seemed to shake off a growing depression and rouse
+himself to talk to her, even jest with her. He smoked cigarettes
+occasionally during dinner, a thing he seldom did, and, when coffee
+was served, he lighted one of his large cigars.
+
+Rue, excited under an almost childishly timid manner, leaned on the
+table with both elbows and linked fingers, listening, watching
+everything with an almost breathless intelligence which strove to
+comprehend.
+
+People left; others arrived; the music continued. Several times people
+passing caught Brandes' eye, and bowed and smiled. He either
+acknowledged such salutes with a slight and almost surly nod, or
+ignored them altogether.
+
+One of his short, heavy arms lay carelessly along the back of his
+chair, where he was sitting sideways looking at the people in the
+lobby--watching with that same odd sensation of foreboding of which he
+had been conscious from the first moment he had entered the city
+line.
+
+What reason for apprehension he had he could not understand. Only an
+hour lay between him and the seclusion of the big liner; a few hours
+and he and this girl beside him would be at sea.
+
+Once he excused himself, went out to the desk, and made an inquiry.
+But there was no telephone or telegraph message for him; and he came
+back chewing his cigar.
+
+Finally his uneasiness drew him to his feet again:
+
+"Rue," he said, "I'm going out to telephone to Mr. Stull. It may take
+some little time. You don't mind waiting, do you?"
+
+"No," she said.
+
+"Don't you want another ice or something?"
+
+She confessed that she did.
+
+So he ordered it and went away.
+
+As she sat leisurely tasting her ice and watching with unflagging
+interest the people around her, she noticed that the dining-room was
+already three-quarters empty. People were leaving for cafe, theatre,
+or dance; few remained.
+
+Of these few, two young men in evening dress now arose and walked
+toward the lobby, one ahead of the other. One went out; the other, in
+the act of going, glanced casually at her as he passed, hesitated,
+halted, then, half smiling, half inquiringly, came toward her.
+
+"Jim Neeland!" she exclaimed impulsively. "--I mean _Mr._ Neeland----"
+a riot of colour flooding her face. But her eager hand remained
+outstretched. He took it, pressed it lightly, ceremoniously, and,
+still standing, continued to smile down at her.
+
+Amid all this strange, infernal glitter; amid a city of six million
+strangers, suddenly to encounter a familiar face--to see
+somebody--anybody--from Gayfield--seemed a miracle too delightful to
+be true.
+
+"You are Rue Carew," he said. "I was not certain for a moment. You
+know we met only once before."
+
+Rue, conscious of the startled intimacy of her first greeting, blushed
+with the memory. But Neeland was a tactful young man; he said easily,
+with his very engaging smile:
+
+"It was nice of you to remember me so frankly and warmly. You have no
+idea how pleasant it was to hear a Gayfield voice greet me as 'Jim.'"
+
+"I--didn't intend to----"
+
+"Please intend it in future, Rue. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And will you ever forget that magnificent winter night when we drove
+to Brookhollow after the party?"
+
+"I have--remembered it."
+
+"So have I.... Are you waiting for somebody? Of course you are," he
+added, laughing. "But may I sit down for a moment?"
+
+"Yes, I wish you would."
+
+So he seated himself, lighted a cigarette, glanced up at her and
+smiled.
+
+"When did you come to New York?" he asked.
+
+"Tonight."
+
+"Well, isn't that a bit of luck to run into you like this! Have you
+come here to study art?"
+
+"No.... Yes, I think, later, I am to study art here."
+
+"At the League?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Better go to the League," he said. "Begin there anyway. Do you know
+where it is?"
+
+"No," she said.
+
+He called a waiter, borrowed pencil and pad, and wrote down the
+address of the Art Students' League. He had begun to fold the paper
+when a second thought seemed to strike him, and he added his own
+address.
+
+"In case I can do anything for you in any way," he explained.
+
+Rue thanked him, opened her reticule, and placed the folded paper
+there beside her purse.
+
+"I do hope I shall see you soon again," he said, looking gaily, almost
+mischievously into her grey eyes. "This certainly resembles fate.
+Don't you think so, Rue--this reunion of ours?"
+
+"Fate?" she repeated.
+
+"Yes. I should even call it romantic. Don't you think our meeting this
+way resembles something very much like romance?"
+
+She felt herself flushing, tried to smile:
+
+"It couldn't resemble anything," she explained with quaint honesty,
+"because I am sailing for Europe tomorrow morning; I am going on board
+in less than an hour. And also--also, I----"
+
+"Also?"--he prompted her, amused, yet oddly touched by her childishly
+literal reply.
+
+"I am--married."
+
+"Good Lord!" he said.
+
+"This morning," she added, tasting her ice.
+
+"And you're sailing for Europe on your honeymoon!" he exclaimed.
+"Well, upon my word! And what is your ship?"
+
+"The _Lusitania_."
+
+"Really! I have a friend who is sailing on her--a most charming woman.
+I sent flowers to her only an hour ago."
+
+"Did you?" asked Rue, interested.
+
+"Yes. She is a widow--the Princess Mistchenka--a delightful and pretty
+woman. I am going to send a note to the steamer tonight saying
+that--that my very _particular_ friend, Ruhannah Carew, is on board,
+and won't she ask you to tea. You'd love her, Rue. She's a regular
+woman."
+
+"But--oh, dear!--a Princess!"
+
+"You won't even notice it," he said reassuringly. "She's a corker;
+she's an artist, too. I couldn't begin to tell you how nice she has
+been to me. By the way, Rue, whom did you marry?"
+
+"Mr. Brandes."
+
+"Brandes? I don't remember--was he from up-state?"
+
+"No; New York--I think----"
+
+As she bent forward to taste her ice again he noticed for the first
+time the childlike loveliness of her throat and profile; looked at her
+with increasing interest, realising that she had grown into a most
+engaging creature since he had seen her.
+
+Looking up, and beyond him toward the door, she said:
+
+"I think your friend is waiting for you. Had you forgotten him?"
+
+"Oh, that's so!" he exclaimed. Then rising and offering his hand: "I
+wish you happiness, Rue. You have my address. When you return, won't
+you let me know where you are? Won't you let me know your husband?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Please do. You see you and I have a common bond in art, another in
+our birthplace. Gayfield folk are your own people and mine. Don't
+forget me, Rue."
+
+"No, I won't."
+
+So he took his leave gracefully and went away through the enthralling,
+glittering unreality of it all leaving a young girl thrilled,
+excited, and deeply impressed with his ease and bearing amid
+awe-inspiring scenes in which she, too, desired most ardently to find
+herself at ease.
+
+Also she thought of his friend, the Princess Mistchenka. And again, as
+before, the name seemed to evoke within her mind a recollection of
+having heard it before, very long ago.
+
+She wondered whether Neeland would remember to write, and if he did
+she wondered whether a real princess would actually condescend to
+invite her to take tea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BREAKERS
+
+
+The east dining-room was almost empty now, though the lobby and the
+cafe beyond still swarmed with people arriving and departing. Brandes,
+chafing at the telephone, had finally succeeded in getting Stull on
+the wire, only to learn that the news from Saratoga was not agreeable;
+that they had lost on every horse. Also, Stull had another disquieting
+item to detail; it seemed that Maxy Venem had been seen that morning
+in the act of departing for New York on the fast express; and with him
+was a woman resembling Brandes' wife.
+
+"Who saw her?" demanded Brandes.
+
+"Doc. He didn't get a good square look at her. You know the hats women
+wear."
+
+"All right. I'm off, Ben. Good-bye."
+
+The haunting uneasiness which had driven him to the telephone
+persisted when he came out of the booth. He cast a slow, almost sleepy
+glance around him, saw no familiar face in the thronged lobby, then he
+looked at his watch.
+
+The car had been ordered for ten; it lacked half an hour of the time;
+he wished he had ordered the car earlier.
+
+For now his uneasiness was verging on that species of superstitious
+inquietude which at times obsesses all gamblers, and which is known as
+a "hunch." He had a hunch that he was "in wrong" somehow or other; an
+overpowering longing to get on board the steamer assailed him--a
+desire to get out of the city, get away quick.
+
+The risk he had taken was beginning to appear to him as an unwarranted
+piece of recklessness; he was amazed with himself for taking such a
+chance--disgusted at his foolish and totally unnecessary course with
+this young girl. All he had had to do was to wait a few months. He
+could have married in safety then. And even now he didn't know whether
+or not the ceremony performed by Parson Smawley had been an illegally
+legal one; whether it made him a bigamist for the next three months or
+only something worse. What on earth had possessed him to take such a
+risk--the terrible hazard of discovery, of losing the only woman he
+had ever really cared for--the only one he probably could ever care
+for? Of course, had he been free he would have married her. When he
+got his freedom he would insist on another ceremony. He could persuade
+her to that on some excuse or other. But in the meanwhile!
+
+He entered the deserted dining-room, came over to where Rue was
+waiting, and sat down, heavily, holding an unlighted cigar between his
+stubby fingers.
+
+"Well, little girl," he said with forced cheerfulness, "was I away
+very long?"
+
+"Not very."
+
+"You didn't miss me?" he inquired, ponderously playful.
+
+His heavy pleasantries usually left her just a little doubtful and
+confused, for he seldom smiled when he delivered himself of them.
+
+He leaned across the cloth and laid a hot, cushiony hand over both of
+hers, where they lay primly clasped on the table edge:
+
+"Don't you ever miss me when I'm away from you, Rue?" he asked.
+
+"I think--it is nice to be with you," she said, hotly embarrassed by
+the publicity of his caress.
+
+"I don't believe you mean it." But he smiled this time. At which the
+little rigid smile stamped itself on her lips; but she timidly
+withdrew her hands from his.
+
+"Rue, I don't believe you love me." This time there was no smile.
+
+She found nothing to answer, being without any experience in
+give-and-take conversation, which left her always uncertain and
+uncomfortable.
+
+For the girl was merely a creature still in the making--a soft,
+pliable thing to be shaped to perfection only by the light touch of
+some steady, patient hand that understood--or to be marred and ruined
+by a heavy hand which wrought at random or in brutal haste.
+
+Brandes watched her for a moment out of sleepy, greenish eyes. Then he
+consulted his watch again, summoned a waiter, gave him the
+parcels-room checks, and bade him have a boy carry their luggage into
+the lobby.
+
+As they rose from the table, a man and a woman entering the lobby
+caught sight of them, halted, then turned and walked back toward the
+street door which they had just entered.
+
+Brandes had not noticed them where he stood by the desk, scratching
+off a telegram to Stull:
+
+"All O. K. Just going aboard. Fix it with Stein."
+
+He rejoined Rue as the boy appeared with their luggage; an under
+porter took the bags and preceded them toward the street.
+
+"There's the car!" said Brandes, with a deep breath of relief. "He
+knows his business, that chauffeur of mine."
+
+Their chauffeur was standing beside the car as they emerged from the
+hotel and started to cross the sidewalk; the porter, following, set
+their luggage on the curbstone; and at the same instant a young and
+pretty woman stepped lightly between Rue and Brandes.
+
+"Good evening, Eddie," she said, and struck him a staggering blow in
+the face with her white-gloved hand.
+
+Brandes lost his balance, stumbled sideways, recovered himself, turned
+swiftly and encountered the full, protruding black eyes of Maxy Venem
+staring close and menacingly into his.
+
+From Brandes' cut lip blood was running down over his chin and collar;
+his face remained absolutely expressionless. The next moment his eyes
+shifted, met Ruhannah's stupefied gaze.
+
+"Go into the hotel," he said calmly. "Quick----"
+
+"Stay where you are!" interrupted Maxy Venem, and caught the
+speechless and bewildered girl by the elbow.
+
+Like lightning Brandes' hand flew to his hip pocket, and at the same
+instant his own chauffeur seized both his heavy, short arms and held
+them rigid, pinned behind his back.
+
+"Frisk him!" he panted; Venem nimbly relieved him of the dull black
+weapon.
+
+"Can the fake gun-play, Eddie," he said, coolly shoving aside the
+porter who attempted to interfere. "You're double-crossed. We got the
+goods on you; come on; who's the girl?"
+
+The woman who had struck Brandes now came up again beside Venem. She
+was young, very pretty, but deathly white except for the patches of
+cosmetic on either cheek. She pointed at Brandes. There was blood on
+her soiled and split glove:
+
+"You dirty dog!" she said unsteadily. "You'll marry this girl before
+I've divorced you, will you? And you think you are going to get away
+with it! You dog! You dirty dog!"
+
+The porter attempted to interfere again, but Venem shoved him out of
+the way. Brandes, still silently struggling to free his imprisoned
+arms, ceased twisting suddenly and swung his heavy head toward Venem.
+His hat had fallen off; his face, deeply flushed with exertion, was
+smeared with blood and sweat.
+
+"What's the idea, you fool!" he said in a low voice. "I'm not married
+to her."
+
+But Ruhannah heard him say it.
+
+"You claim that you haven't married this girl?" demanded Venem loudly,
+motioning toward Rue, who stood swaying, half dead, held fast by the
+gathering crowd which pushed around them from every side.
+
+"Did you marry her or did you fake it?" repeated Venem in a louder
+voice. "It's jail one way; maybe both!"
+
+"He married her in Gayfield at eleven this morning!" said the
+chauffeur. "Parson Smawley turned the trick."
+
+Brandes' narrow eyes glittered; he struggled for a moment, gave it up,
+shot a deadly glance at Maxy Venem, at his wife, at the increasing
+throng crowding closely about him. Then his infuriated eyes met Rue's,
+and the expression of her face apparently crazed him.
+
+Frantic, he hurled himself backward, jerking one arm free, tripped,
+fell heavily with the chauffeur on top, twisting, panting, struggling
+convulsively, while all around him surged the excited crowd, shouting,
+pressing closer, trampling one another in eagerness to see.
+
+Rue, almost swooning with fear, was pushed, jostled, flung aside.
+Stumbling over her own suitcase, she fell to her knees, rose, and,
+scarce conscious of what she was about, caught up her suitcase and
+reeled away into the light-shot darkness.
+
+She had no idea of what she was doing or where she was going; the
+terror of the scene still remained luridly before her eyes; the
+shouting of the crowd was in her ears; an indescribable fear of
+Brandes filled her--a growing horror of this man who had denied that
+he had married her. And the instinct of a frightened and bewildered
+child drove her into blind flight, anywhere to escape this hideous,
+incomprehensible scene behind her.
+
+Hurrying on, alternately confused and dazzled in the patches of
+darkness and flaring light, clutched at and followed by a terrible
+fear, she found herself halted on the curbstone of an avenue through
+which lighted tramcars were passing. A man spoke to her, came closer;
+and she turned desperately and hurried across a street where other
+people were crossing.
+
+From overhead sounded the roaring dissonance of an elevated train; on
+either side of her phantom shapes swarmed--figures which moved
+everywhere around her, now illumined by shop windows, now silhouetted
+against them. And always through the deafening confusion in her brain,
+the dismay, the stupefaction, one dreadful fear dominated--the fear of
+Brandes--the dread and horror of this Judas who had denied her.
+
+She could not drive the scene from her mind--the never-to-be forgotten
+picture where he stood with blood from his cut lip striping his fat
+chin. She heard his voice denying her through swollen lips that
+scarcely moved--denying that he had married her.
+
+And in her ears still sounded the other voice--the terrible words of
+the woman who had struck him--an unsteady, unreal voice accusing him;
+and her brain throbbed with the horrible repetition: "Dirty dog--dirty
+dog--dirty dog----" until, almost out of her mind, she dropped her bag
+and clapped both hands over her ears.
+
+One or two men stared at her. A taxi driver came from beside his car
+and asked her if she was ill. But she caught up her suitcase and
+hurried on without answering.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+She was very tired. She had come to the end of the lighted avenue.
+There was darkness ahead, a wall, trees, and electric lights sparkling
+among the foliage.
+
+Perhaps the sudden glimpse of a wide and star-set sky quieted her,
+calmed her. Freed suddenly from the canon of the city's streets, the
+unreasoning panic of a trapped thing subsided a little.
+
+Her arm ached; she shifted the suitcase to her other hand and looked
+across at the trees and at the high stars above, striving desperately
+for self-command.
+
+Something had to be done. She must find some place where she could sit
+down. Where was she to find it?
+
+For a while she could feel her limbs trembling; but gradually the
+heavy thudding of her pulses quieted; nobody molested her; nobody had
+followed her. That she was quite lost did not matter; she had also
+lost this man who had denied her, somewhere in the depths of the
+confusion behind her. That was all that mattered--escape from him,
+from the terrible woman who had struck him and reviled him.
+
+With an effort she checked her thoughts and struggled for
+self-command. Somewhere in the city there must be a railroad station
+from which a train would take her home.
+
+With the thought came the desperate longing for flight, and a rush of
+tears that almost choked her. Nothing mattered now except her mother's
+arms; the rest was a nightmare, the horror of a dream which still
+threatened, still clutched at her with shadowy and spectral menace.
+
+For a moment or two she stood there on the curb, her eyes closed,
+fighting for self-control, forcing her disorganized brain to duty.
+
+Somebody must help her to find a railroad station and a train. That
+gradually became clear to her. But when she realised that, a young man
+sauntered up beside her and looked at her so intently that her
+calmness gave way and she turned her head sharply to conceal the
+starting tears.
+
+"Hello, girlie," he said. "Got anythin' on tonight?"
+
+With head averted, she stood there, rigid, dumb, her tear-drenched
+eyes fixed on the park; and after one or two jocose observations the
+young man became discouraged and went away. But he had thrust the fear
+of strangers deep into her heart; and now she dared not ask any man
+for information. However, when two young women passed she found
+sufficient courage to accost them, asking the direction of the
+railroad station from which trains departed for Gayfield.
+
+The women, who were young and brightly coloured in plumage, displayed
+a sympathetic interest at once.
+
+"Gayfield?" repeated the blonder of the two. "Gee, dearie, I never
+heard of that place."
+
+"Is it on Long Island?" inquired the other.
+
+"No. It is in Mohawk County."
+
+"That's a new one, too. Mohawk County? Never heard of it; did you,
+Lil?"
+
+"Search me!"
+
+"Is it up-state, dearie?" asked the other. "You better go over to
+Madison Avenue and take a car to the Grand Central----"
+
+"Wait," interrupted her friend; "she better take a taxi----"
+
+"Nix on a taxi you pick up on Sixth Avenue!" And to Rue, curiously
+sympathetic: "Say, you've got friends here, haven't you, little one?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What! You don't know anyone in New York!"
+
+Rue looked at her dumbly; then, of a sudden, she remembered Neeland.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I know one person."
+
+"Where does your friend live?"
+
+In her reticule was the paper on which he had written the address of
+the Art Students' League, and, as an afterthought, his own address.
+
+Rue lifted the blue silk bag, opened it, took out her purse and found
+the paper.
+
+"One Hundred and Six, West Fifty-fifth Street," she read; "Studio No.
+10."
+
+"Why, that isn't far!" said the blonder of the two. "We are going that
+way. We'll take you there."
+
+"I don't know--I don't know him very well----"
+
+"Is it a man?"
+
+"Yes. He comes from my town, Gayfield."
+
+"Oh! I guess that's all right," said the other woman, laughing. "You
+got to be leery of these men, little one. Come on; we'll show you."
+
+It was only four blocks; Ruhannah presently found herself on the steps
+of a house from which dangled a sign, "Studios and Bachelor
+Apartments to Let."
+
+"What's his name?" said the woman addressed as Lil.
+
+"Mr. Neeland."
+
+By the light of the vestibule lantern they inspected the letter boxes,
+found Neeland's name, and pushed the electric button.
+
+After a few seconds the door clicked and opened.
+
+"Now, you're all right!" said Lil, peering into the lighted hallway.
+"It's on the fourth floor and there isn't any elevator that I can see,
+so you keep on going upstairs till your friend meets you."
+
+"Thank you so much for your great kindness----"
+
+"Don't mention it. Good luck, dearie!"
+
+The door clicked behind her, and Rue found herself alone.
+
+The stairs, flanked by a massive balustrade of some dark, polished
+wood, ascended in spirals by a short series of flights and landings.
+Twice she rested, her knees almost giving way, for the climb upward
+seemed interminable. But at last, just above her, she saw a skylight,
+and a great stair-window giving on a court; and, as she toiled up and
+stood clinging, breathless, to the banisters on the top landing, out
+of an open door stepped Neeland's shadowy figure, dark against the
+hall light behind him.
+
+"For heaven's sake!" he said. "What on earth----"
+
+The suitcase fell from her nerveless hand; she swayed a little where
+she stood.
+
+The next moment he had passed his arm around her, and was half
+leading, half carrying her through a short hallway into a big,
+brilliantly lighted studio.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A LIFE LINE
+
+
+She had told him her story from beginning to end, as far as she
+herself comprehended it. She was lying sideways now, in the depths of
+a large armchair, her cheek cushioned on the upholstered wings.
+
+Her hat, with its cheap blue enamel pins sticking in the crown, lay on
+his desk; her hair, partly loosened, shadowed a young face grown
+pinched with weariness; and the reaction from shock was already making
+her grey eyes heavy and edging the under lids with bluish shadows.
+
+She had not come there with the intention of telling him anything. All
+she had wanted was a place in which to rest, a glass of water, and
+somebody to help her find the train to Gayfield. She told him this;
+remained reticent under his questioning; finally turned her haggard
+face to the chairback and refused to answer.
+
+For an hour or more she remained obstinately dumb, motionless except
+for the uncontrollable trembling of her body; he brought her a glass
+of water, sat watching her at intervals; rose once or twice to pace
+the studio, his well-shaped head bent, his hands clasped behind his
+back, always returning to the corner-chair before the desk to sit
+there, eyeing her askance, waiting for some decision.
+
+But it was not the recurrent waves of terror, the ever latent fear of
+Brandes, or even her appalling loneliness that broke her down; it was
+sheer fatigue--nature's merciless third degree--under which mental
+and physical resolution disintegrated--went all to pieces.
+
+And when at length she finally succeeded in reconquering
+self-possession, she had already stammered out answers to his gently
+persuasive questions--had told him enough to start the fuller
+confession to which he listened in utter silence.
+
+And now she had told him everything, as far as she understood the
+situation. She lay sideways, deep in the armchair, tired, yet vaguely
+conscious that she was resting mind and body, and that calm was
+gradually possessing the one, and the nerves of the other were growing
+quiet.
+
+Listlessly her grey eyes wandered around the big studio where shadowy
+and strangely beautiful but incomprehensible things met her gaze, like
+iridescent, indefinite objects seen in dreams.
+
+These radiantly unreal splendours were only Neeland's rejected Academy
+pictures and studies; a few cheap Japanese hangings, cheaper Nippon
+porcelains, and several shaky, broken-down antiques picked up for a
+song here and there. All the trash and truck and dust and junk
+characteristic of the conventional artist's habitation were there.
+
+But to Ruhannah this studio embodied all the wonders and beauties of
+that magic temple to which, from her earliest memory, her very soul
+had aspired--the temple of the unknown God of Art.
+
+Vaguely she endeavoured to realise that she was now inside one of its
+myriad sanctuaries; that here under her very tired and youthful eyes
+stood one of its countless altars; that here, also, near by, sat one
+of those blessed acolytes who aided in the mysteries of its wondrous
+service.
+
+"Ruhannah," he said, "are you calm enough to let me tell you what I
+think about this matter?"
+
+"Yes. I am feeling better."
+
+"Good work! There's no occasion for panic. What you need is a cool
+head and a clear mind."
+
+She said, without stirring from where she lay resting her cheek on the
+chairback:
+
+"My mind has become quite clear again."
+
+"That's fine! Well, then, I think the thing for you to do is----" He
+took out his watch, examined it, replaced it--"Good Lord!" he said.
+"It is three o'clock!"
+
+She watched him but offered no comment. He went to the telephone,
+called the New York Central Station, got General Information, inquired
+concerning trains, hung up, and came back to the desk where he had
+been sitting.
+
+"The first train out leaves at six three," he said. "I think you'd
+better go into my bedroom and lie down. I'm not tired; I'll call you
+in time, and I'll get a taxi and take you to your train. Does that
+suit you, Ruhannah?"
+
+She shook her head slightly.
+
+"Why not?" he asked.
+
+"I've been thinking. I can't go back."
+
+"Can't go back! Why not?"
+
+"I can't."
+
+"You mean you'd feel too deeply humiliated?"
+
+"I wasn't thinking of my own disgrace. I was thinking of mother and
+father." There was no trace of emotion in her voice; she stated the
+fact calmly.
+
+"I can't go back to Brookhollow. It's ended. I couldn't bear to let
+them know what has happened to me."
+
+"What did you think of doing?" he asked uneasily.
+
+"I must think of mother--I must keep my disgrace from touching
+them--spare them the sorrow--humiliation----" Her voice became
+tremulous, but she turned around and sat up in her chair, meeting his
+gaze squarely. "That's as far as I have thought," she said.
+
+Both remained silent for a long while. Then Ruhannah looked up from
+her pale preoccupation:
+
+"I told you I had three thousand dollars. Why can't I educate myself
+in art with that? Why can't I learn how to support myself by art?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Here."
+
+"Yes. But what are you going to say to your parents when you write?
+They suppose you are on your way to Paris."
+
+She nodded, looking at him thoughtfully.
+
+"By the way," he added, "is your trunk on board the _Lusitania_?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That won't do! Have you the check for it?"
+
+"Yes, in my purse."
+
+"We've got to get that trunk off the ship," he said. "There's only one
+sure way. I'd better go down now, to the pier. Where's your steamer
+ticket?"
+
+"I--I have _both_ tickets and both checks in my bag. He--let me have
+the p-pleasure of carrying them----" Again her voice broke childishly,
+but the threatened emotion was strangled and resolutely choked back.
+
+"Give me the tickets and checks," he said. "I'll go down to the dock
+now."
+
+She drew out the papers, sat holding them for a few moments without
+relinquishing them. Then she raised her eyes to his, and a bright
+flush stained her face:
+
+"Why should I not go to Paris by myself?" she demanded.
+
+"You mean now? On this ship?"
+
+"Yes. Why not? I have enough money to go there and study, haven't I?"
+
+"Yes. But----"
+
+"Why not!" she repeated feverishly, her grey eyes sparkling. "I have
+three thousand dollars; I can't go back to Brookhollow and disgrace
+them. What does it matter where I go?"
+
+"It would be all right," he said, "if you'd ever had any
+experience----"
+
+"Experience! What do you call what I've had today!" She exclaimed
+excitedly. "To lose in a single day my mother, my home--to go through
+in this city what I have gone through--what I am going through now--is
+not that enough experience? Isn't it?"
+
+He said:
+
+"You've had a rotten awakening, Rue--a perfectly devilish experience.
+Only--you've never travelled alone----" Suddenly it occurred to him
+that his lively friend, the Princess Mistchenka, was sailing on the
+_Lusitania_; and he remained silent, uncertain, looking with vague
+misgivings at this girl in the armchair opposite--this thin, unformed,
+inexperienced child who had attained neither mental nor physical
+maturity.
+
+"I think," he said at length, "that I told you I had a friend sailing
+on the _Lusitania_ tomorrow."
+
+She remembered and nodded.
+
+"But wait a moment," he added. "How do you know that this--this fellow
+Brandes will not attempt to sail on her, also----" Something checked
+him, for in the girl's golden-grey eyes he saw a flame glimmer;
+something almost terrible came into the child's still gaze; and
+slowly died out like the afterglow of lightning.
+
+And Neeland knew that in her soul something had been born under his
+very eyes--the first emotion of maturity bursting from the
+chrysalis--the flaming consciousness of outrage, and the first, fierce
+assumption of womanhood to resent it.
+
+She had lost her colour now; her grey eyes still remained fixed on
+his, but the golden tinge had left them.
+
+"_I_ don't know why you shouldn't go," he said abruptly.
+
+"I _am_ going."
+
+"All right! And if _he_ has the nerve to go--if he bothers you--appeal
+to the captain."
+
+She nodded absently.
+
+"But I don't believe he'll try to sail. I don't believe he'd dare,
+mixed up as he is in a dirty mess. He's afraid of the law, I tell you.
+That's why he denied marrying you. It meant bigamy to admit it.
+Anyway, I don't think a fake ceremony like that is binding; I mean
+that it isn't even real enough to put him in jail. Which means that
+you're not married, Rue."
+
+"Does it?"
+
+"I think so. Ask a lawyer, anyway. There may be steps to take--I don't
+know. All the same--do you really want to go to France and study art?
+Do you really mean to sail on this ship?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You feel confidence in yourself? You feel sure of yourself?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You've got the backbone to see it through?"
+
+"Yes. It's got to be done."
+
+"All right, if you feel that way." He made no move, however, but sat
+there watching her. After a while he looked at his watch again:
+
+"I'm going to ring up a taxi," he said. "You might as well go on board
+and get some sleep. What time does she sail?"
+
+"At five thirty, I believe."
+
+"Well, we haven't so very long, then. There's my bedroom--if you want
+to fix up."
+
+She rose wearily.
+
+When she emerged from his room with her hat and gloves on, the taxicab
+was audible in the street below.
+
+Together they descended the dark stairway up which she had toiled with
+trembling knees. He carried her suitcase, aided her into the taxi.
+
+"Cunard Line," he said briefly, and entered the cab.
+
+Already in the darkness of early morning the city was awake; workmen
+were abroad; lighted tramcars passed with passengers; great wains,
+trucks, and country wagons moved slowly toward markets and ferries.
+
+He had begun to tell her almost immediately all that he knew about
+Paris, the life there in the students' quarters, methods of living
+economically, what to seek and what to avoid--a homily rather hurried
+and condensed, as they sped toward the pier.
+
+She seemed to be listening; he could not be sure that she understood
+or that her mind was fixed at all on what he was saying. Even while
+speaking, numberless objections to her going occurred to him, but as
+he had no better alternatives to suggest he did not voice them.
+
+In his heart he really believed she ought to go back to Brookhollow.
+It was perfectly evident she would not consent to go there. As for her
+remaining in New York, perhaps the reasons for her going to Paris were
+as good. He was utterly unable to judge; he only knew that she ought
+to have the protection of experience, and that was lacking.
+
+"I'm going to remain on board with you," he said, "until she sails.
+I'm going to try to find my very good friend, the Princess Mistchenka,
+and have you meet her. She has been very kind to me, and I shall ask
+her to keep an eye on you while you are crossing, and to give you a
+lot of good advice."
+
+"A--princess," said Rue in a tired, discouraged voice, "is not very
+likely to pay any attention to me, I think."
+
+"She's one of those Russian or Caucasian princesses. You know they
+don't rank very high. She told me herself. She's great fun--full of
+life and wit and intelligence and wide experience. She knows a lot
+about everything and everybody; she's been everywhere, travelled all
+over the globe."
+
+"I don't think," repeated Rue, "that she would care for me at all."
+
+"Yes, she would. She's young and warm-hearted and human. Besides, she
+is interested in art--knows a lot about it--even paints very well
+herself."
+
+"She must be wonderful."
+
+"No--she's just a regular woman. It was because she was interested in
+art that she came to the League, and I was introduced to her. That is
+how I came to know her. She comes sometimes to my studio."
+
+"Yes, but you are already an artist, and an interesting man----"
+
+"Oh, Rue, I'm just beginning. She's kind, that's all--an energetic,
+intelligent woman, full of interest in life. I _know_ she'll give you
+some splendid advice--tell you how to get settled in Paris--Lord! You
+don't even know French, do you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Not a word?"
+
+"No.... I don't know anything, Mr. Neeland."
+
+He tried to laugh reassuringly:
+
+"I thought it was to be Jim, not Mister," he reminded her.
+
+But she only looked at him out of troubled eyes.
+
+In the glare of the pier's headlights they descended. Passengers were
+entering the vast, damp enclosure; porters, pier officers, ship's
+officers, sailors, passed to and fro as they moved toward the gangway
+where, in the electric glare of lamps, the clifflike side of the
+gigantic liner loomed up.
+
+At sight of the monster ship Rue's heart leaped, quailed, leaped
+again. As she set one slender foot on the gangway such an
+indescribable sensation seized her that she caught at Neeland's arm
+and held to it, almost faint with the violence of her emotion.
+
+A steward took the suitcase, preceded them down abysmal and gorgeous
+stairways, through salons, deep into the dimly magnificent bowels of
+the ocean giant, then through an endless white corridor twinkling with
+lights, to a stateroom, where a stewardess ushered them in.
+
+There was nobody there; nobody had been there.
+
+"He dare not come," whispered Neeland in Ruhannah's ear.
+
+The girl stood in the centre of the stateroom looking silently about
+her.
+
+"Have you any English and French money?" he asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Give me--well, say two hundred dollars, and I'll have the purser
+change it."
+
+She went to her suitcase, where it stood on the lounge; he unstrapped
+it for her; she found the big packet of treasury notes and handed them
+to him.
+
+"Good heavens!" he muttered. "This won't do. I'm going to have the
+purser lock them in the safe and give me a receipt. Then when you meet
+the Princess Mistchenka, tell her what I've done and ask her advice.
+Will you, Rue?"
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+"You'll wait here for me, won't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+So he noted the door number and went away hastily in search of the
+purser, to do what he could in the matter of foreign money for the
+girl. And on the upper companionway he met the Princess Mistchenka
+descending, preceded by porters with her luggage.
+
+"James!" she exclaimed. "Have you come aboard to elope with me?
+Otherwise, what are you doing on the _Lusitania_ at this very ghastly
+hour in the morning?"
+
+She was smiling into his face and her daintily gloved hand retained
+his for a moment; then she passed her arm through his.
+
+"Follow the porter," she said, "and tell me what brings you here, my
+gay young friend. You see I am wearing the orchids you sent me. Do you
+really mean to add yourself to this charming gift?"
+
+He told her the story of Ruhannah Carew as briefly as he could; at her
+stateroom door they paused while he continued the story, the Princess
+Mistchenka looking at him very intently while she listened, and never
+uttering a word.
+
+She was a pretty woman, not tall, rather below middle stature,
+perhaps, beautifully proportioned and perfectly gowned. Hair and eyes
+were dark as velvet; her skin was old ivory and rose; and always her
+lips seemed about to part a little in the faint and provocative smile
+which lay latent in the depths of her brown eyes.
+
+"_Mon Dieu!_" she said, "what a history of woe you are telling me, my
+friend James! What a tale of innocence and of deception and outraged
+trust is this that you relate to me! _Allons! Vite!_ Let us find this
+poor, abandoned infant--this unhappy victim of your sex's well-known
+duplicity!"
+
+"She isn't a victim, you know," he explained.
+
+"I see. Only almost--a--victim. Yes? Where is this child, then?"
+
+"May I bring her to you, Princess?"
+
+"But of course! Bring her. I am not afraid--so far--to look any woman
+in the face at five o'clock in the morning." And the threatened smile
+flashed out in her fresh, pretty face.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+When he came back with Rue Carew, the Princess Mistchenka was
+conferring with her maid and with her stewardess. She turned to look
+at Rue as Neeland came up--continued to scrutinise her intently while
+he was presenting her.
+
+There ensued a brief silence; the Princess glanced at Neeland, then
+her dark eyes returned directly to the young girl before her, and she
+held out her hand, smilingly:
+
+"Miss Carew--I believe I know exactly what your voice is going to be
+like. I think I have heard, in America, such a voice once or twice.
+Speak to me and prove me right."
+
+Rue flushed:
+
+"What am I to say?" she asked naively.
+
+"I knew I was right," exclaimed the Princess Mistchenka gaily. "Come
+into my stateroom and let each one of us discover how agreeable is the
+other. Shall we--my dear child?"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+When Neeland returned from a visit to the purser with a pocket full of
+British and French gold and silver for Ruhannah, he knocked at the
+stateroom door of the Princess Mistchenka.
+
+That lively personage opened it, came out into the corridor holding
+the door partly closed behind her.
+
+"She's almost dead with fatigue and grief. I undressed her myself.
+She's in my bed. She has been crying."
+
+"Poor little thing," said Neeland.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Here's her money," he said, a little awkwardly.
+
+The Princess opened her wrist bag and he dumped in the shining
+torrent.
+
+"Shall I--call good-bye to her?" he asked.
+
+"You may go in, James."
+
+They entered together; and he was startled to see how young she seemed
+there on the pillows--how pitifully immature the childish throat, the
+tear-flushed face lying in its mass of chestnut hair.
+
+"Good-bye, Rue," he said, still awkward, offering his hand.
+
+Slowly she held out one slim hand from the covers.
+
+"Good voyage, good luck," he said. "I wish you would write a line to
+me."
+
+"I will."
+
+"Then----" He smiled; released her hand.
+
+"Thank you for--for all you have done," she said. "I shall not
+forget."
+
+Something choked him slightly; he forced a laugh:
+
+"Come back a famous painter, Rue. Keep your head clear and your heart
+full of courage. And let me know how you're getting on, won't you?"
+
+"Yes.... Good-bye."
+
+So he went out, and at the door exchanged adieux with the smiling
+Princess.
+
+"Do you--like her a little?" he whispered.
+
+"I do, my friend. Also--I like you. I am old enough to say it safely,
+am I not?"
+
+"If you think so," he said, a funny little laugh in his eyes, "you are
+old enough to let me kiss you good-bye."
+
+But she backed away, still smiling:
+
+"On the brow--the hair--yes; if you promise discretion, James."
+
+"What has tottering age like yours to do with discretion, Princess
+Naia?" he retorted impudently. "A kiss on the mouth must of itself be
+discreet when bestowed on youth by such venerable years as are
+yours."
+
+But the Princess, the singularly provocative smile still edging her
+lips, merely looked at him out of dark and slightly humorous eyes,
+gave him her hand, withdrew it with decision, and entered her
+stateroom, closing the door rather sharply behind her.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+When Neeland got back to the studio he took a couple of hours' sleep,
+and, being young, perfectly healthy, and perhaps not unaccustomed to
+the habits of the owl family, felt pretty well when he went out to
+breakfast.
+
+Over his coffee cup he propped up his newspaper against a carafe; and
+the heading on one of the columns immediately attracted his
+attention.
+
+ ROW BETWEEN SPORTING MEN
+
+ EDDIE BRANDES, FIGHT PROMOTER AND
+ THEATRICAL MAN, MIXES IT WITH
+ MAXY VENEM
+
+ A WOMAN SAID TO BE THE CAUSE: AFFRAY DRAWS
+ A BIG CROWD IN FRONT OF THE HOTEL
+ KNICKERBOCKER
+
+ BOTH MEN, BADLY BATTERED, GET AWAY BEFORE THE
+ POLICE ARRIVE
+
+Breakfasting leisurely, he read the partly humorous, partly
+contemptuous account of the sordid affair. Afterward he sent for all
+the morning papers. But in none of them was Ruhannah Carew mentioned
+at all, nobody, apparently, having noticed her in the exciting affair
+between Venem, Brandes, the latter's wife, and the chauffeur.
+
+Nor did the evening papers add anything material to the account,
+except to say that Brandes had been interviewed in his office at the
+Silhouette Theatre and that he stated that he had not engaged in any
+personal encounter with anybody, had not seen Max Venem in months, had
+not been near the Hotel Knickerbocker, and knew nothing about the
+affair in question.
+
+He also permitted a dark hint or two to escape him concerning possible
+suits for defamation of character against irresponsible newspapers.
+
+The accounts in the various evening editions agreed, however, that
+when interviewed, Mr. Brandes was nursing a black eye and a badly
+swollen lip, which, according to him, he had acquired in a playful
+sparring encounter with his business manager, Mr. Benjamin Stull.
+
+And that was all; the big town had neither time nor inclination to
+notice either Brandes or Venem any further; Broadway completed the
+story for its own edification, and, by degrees, arrived at its own
+conclusions. Only nobody could discover who was the young girl
+concerned, or where she came from or what might be her name. And,
+after a few days, Broadway, also, forgot the matter amid the tarnished
+tinsel and raucous noises of its own mean and multifarious
+preoccupations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+LETTERS FROM A LITTLE GIRL
+
+
+Neeland had several letters from Ruhannah Carew that autumn and
+winter. The first one was written a few weeks after her arrival in
+Paris:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Dear Mr. Neeland:
+
+Please forgive me for writing to you, but I am homesick.
+
+I have written every week to mother and have made my letters read as
+though I were still married, because it would almost kill her if she
+knew the truth.
+
+Some day I shall have to tell her, but not yet. Could you tell me how
+you think the news ought to be broken to her and father?
+
+_That man_ was not on the steamer. I was quite ill crossing the ocean.
+But the last two days I went on deck with the Princess Mistchenka and
+her maid, and I enjoyed the sea.
+
+The Princess has been so friendly. I should have died, I think,
+without her, what with my seasickness and homesickness, and brooding
+over my terrible fall. I know it is immoral to say so, but I did not
+want to live any longer, truly I didn't. I even asked to be taken. I
+am sorry now that I prayed that way.
+
+Well, I have passed through the most awful part of my life, I think. I
+feel strange and different, as though I had been very sick, and had
+died, and as though it were another girl sitting here writing to you,
+and not the girl who was in your studio last August.
+
+I had always expected happiness some day. Now I know I shall never
+have it. Girls dream many foolish things about the future. They have
+such dear, silly hopes.
+
+All dreams are ended for me; all that remains in life for me is to
+work very hard so that I can learn to support myself and my parents. I
+should like to make a great deal of money so that when I die I can
+leave it to charity. I desire to be remembered for my good works. But
+of course I shall first have to learn how to take care of myself and
+mother and father before I can aid the poor. I often think of becoming
+a nun and going out to nurse lepers. Only I don't know where there are
+any. Do you?
+
+Paris is very large and a sort of silvery grey colour, full of trees
+with yellowing leaves--but Oh, it is _so_ lonely, Mr. Neeland! I am
+determined not to cry every day, but it is quite difficult not to. And
+then there are so many, many people, and they all talk French! They
+talk very fast, too, even the little children.
+
+This seems such an ungrateful letter to write you, who were so good
+and kind to me in my dreadful hour of trial and disgrace. I am afraid
+you won't understand how full of gratitude I am, to you and to the
+Princess Mistchenka.
+
+I have the prettiest little bedroom in her house. There is a pink
+shade on my night lamp. She insisted that I go home with her, and I
+had to, because I didn't know where else to go, and she wouldn't tell
+me. In fact, I can't go anywhere or find any place because I speak no
+French at all. It's humiliating, isn't it, for even the very little
+children speak French in Paris.
+
+But I have begun to learn; a cheerful old lady comes for an hour every
+day to teach me. Only it is very hard for me, because she speaks no
+English and I am forbidden to utter one word of my own language. And
+so far I understand nothing that she says, which makes me more lonely
+than I ever was in all my life. But sometimes it is so absurd that we
+both laugh.
+
+I am to study drawing and painting at a studio for women. The kind
+Princess has arranged it. I am also to study piano and voice culture.
+This I did not suppose would be possible with the money I have, but
+the Princess Mistchenka, who has asked me to let her take charge of my
+money and my expenses, says that I can easily afford it. She knows, of
+course, what things cost, and what I am able to afford; and I trust
+her willingly because she is so dear and sweet to me, but I am a
+little frightened at the dresses she is having made for me. They
+_can't_ be inexpensive!--Such lovely clothes and shoes and hats--and
+other things about which I never even heard in Brookhollow.
+
+I ought to be happy, Mr. Neeland, but everything is so new and
+strange--even Sunday is not restful; and how different is Notre Dame
+de Paris and Saint Eustache from our church at Gayfield! The high
+arches and jewelled windows and the candles and the dull roar of the
+organ drove from my mind those quiet and solemn thoughts of God which
+always filled my mind so naturally and peacefully in our church at
+home. I couldn't think of Him; I couldn't even try to pray; it was as
+though an ocean were rolling and thundering over me where I lay
+drowned in a most deep place.
+
+Well, I must close, because _dejeuner_ is ready--you see I know _one_
+French word, after all! And one other--"_Bonjour, monsieur!_"--which
+counts _two_, doesn't it?--or three in all.
+
+It has made me feel better to write to you. I hope you will not think
+it a presumption.
+
+And now I shall say thank you for your great kindness to me in your
+studio on that most frightful night of my life. It is one of those
+things that a girl can never, never forget--your aid in my hour of
+need. Through all my shame and distress it was your help that
+sustained me; for I was so stunned by my disgrace that I even forgot
+God himself.
+
+But I _will_ prove that I am thankful to Him, and worthy of your
+goodness to me; I _will_ profit by this dreadful humiliation and
+devote my life to a more worthy and lofty purpose than merely getting
+married just because a man asked me so persistently and I was too
+young and ignorant to continue saying no! Also, I _did_ want to study
+art. How stupid, how immoral I was!
+
+And now nobody would ever want to marry me again after this--and also
+it's against the law, I imagine. But I don't care; I never, never
+desire to marry another man. All I want is to learn how to support
+myself by art; and some day perhaps I shall forget what has happened
+to me and perhaps find a little pleasure in life when I am very old.
+
+With every wish and prayer for your happiness and success in this
+world of sorrow, believe me your grateful friend,
+
+ Rue Carew.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Every naive and laboured line of the stilted letter touched and amused
+and also flattered Neeland; for no young man is entirely insensible to
+a young girl's gratitude. An agreeable warmth suffused him; it pleased
+him to remember that he had been associated in the moral and social
+rehabilitation of Rue Carew.
+
+He meant to write her some kind, encouraging advice; he had every
+intention of answering her letter. But in New York young men are very
+busy; or think they are. For youth days dawn and vanish in the space
+of a fire-fly's lingering flash; and the moments swarm by like a
+flight of distracted golden butterflies; and a young man is ever at
+their heels in breathless chase with as much chance of catching up
+with the elusive moment as a squirrel has of outstripping the wheel in
+which he whirls.
+
+So he neglected to reply--waited a little too long. Because, while her
+childish letter still remained unanswered, came a note from the
+Princess Mistchenka, enclosing a tremulous line from Rue:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+_Mon cher_ James:
+
+Doubtless you have already heard of the sad death of Ruhannah's
+parents--within a few hours of each other--both stricken with
+pneumonia within the same week. The local minister cabled her as Mrs.
+Brandes in my care. Then he wrote to the child; the letter has just
+arrived.
+
+My poor little _protegee_ is prostrated--talks wildly of going back at
+once. But to what purpose now, _mon ami_? Her loved ones will have
+been in their graves for days before Ruhannah could arrive.
+
+No; I shall keep her here. She is young; she shall be kept busy every
+instant of the day. That is the only antidote for grief; youth and
+time its only cure.
+
+Please write to the Baptist minister at Gayfield, James, and find out
+what is to be done; and have it done. Judge Gary, at Orangeville, had
+charge of the Reverend Mr. Carew's affairs. Let him send the necessary
+papers to Ruhannah here. I enclose a paper which she has executed,
+conferring power of attorney. If a guardian is to be appointed, I
+shall take steps to qualify through the good offices of Lejeune
+Brothers, the international lawyers whom I have put into communication
+with Judge Gary through the New York representatives of the firm.
+
+There are bound to be complications, I fear, in regard to this mock
+marriage of hers. I have consulted my attorneys here and they are not
+very certain that the ceremony was not genuine enough to require
+further legal steps to free her entirely. A suit for annulment is
+possible.
+
+Please have the house at Brookhollow locked up and keep the keys in
+your possession for the present. Judge Gary will have the keys sent to
+you.
+
+James, dear, I am very deeply indebted to you for giving to me my
+little friend, Ruhannah Carew. Now, I wish to make her entirely mine
+by law until the inevitable day arrives when some man shall take her
+from me.
+
+Write to her, James; don't be selfish.
+
+ Yours always,
+ Naia.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The line enclosed from Ruhannah touched him deeply:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+I cannot speak of it yet. Please, when you go to Brookhollow, have
+flowers planted. You know where our plot is. Have it made pretty for
+them.
+
+ Rue.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+He wrote at once exactly the sort of letter that an impulsive,
+warm-hearted young man might take time to write to a bereaved friend.
+He was genuinely grieved and sorry for her, but he was glad when his
+letter was finished and mailed, and he could turn his thoughts into
+other and gayer channels.
+
+To this letter she replied, thanking him for what he had written and
+for what he had done to make the plot in the local cemetery "pretty."
+
+She asked him to keep the keys to the house in Brookhollow. Then
+followed a simple report of her quiet and studious daily life in the
+home of the Princess Mistchenka; of her progress in her studies; of
+her hopes that in due time she might become sufficiently educated to
+take care of herself.
+
+It was a slightly dull, laboured, almost emotionless letter. Always
+willing to shirk correspondence, he persuaded himself that the letter
+called for no immediate answer. After all, it was not to be expected
+that a very young girl whom a man had met only twice in his life could
+hold his interest very long, when absent. However, he meant to write
+her again; thought of doing so several times during the next twelve
+months.
+
+It was a year before another letter came from her. And, reading it, he
+was a little surprised to discover how rapidly immaturity can mature
+under the shock of circumstances and exotic conditions which tend
+toward forced growth.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Mon cher ami:
+
+I was silly enough to hope you might write to me. But I suppose you
+have far more interesting and important matters to occupy you.
+
+Still, don't you sometimes remember the girl you drove home with in a
+sleigh one winter night, ages ago? Don't you sometimes think of the
+girl who came creeping upstairs, half dead, to your studio door? And
+don't you sometimes wonder what has become of her?
+
+Why is it that a girl is always more loyal to past memories than a
+man ever is? Don't answer that it is because she has less to occupy
+her than a man has. You have no idea how busy I have been during this
+long year in which you have forgotten me.
+
+Among other things I have been busy growing. I am taller by two inches
+than when last I saw you. Please be impressed by my five feet eight
+inches.
+
+Also, I am happy. The greatest happiness in the world is to have the
+opportunity to learn about that same world.
+
+I am happy because I now have that opportunity. During these many
+months since I wrote to you I have learned a little French; I read
+some, write some, understand pretty well, and speak a little. What a
+pleasure, _mon ami_!
+
+Piano and vocal music, too, occupy me; I love both, and I am told
+encouraging things. But best and most delightful of all I am learning
+to draw and compose and paint from life in the Academie Julian! Think
+of it! It is difficult, it is absorbing, it requires energy,
+persistence, self-denial; but it is fascinating, satisfying,
+glorious.
+
+Also, it is very trying, _mon ami_; and I descend into depths of
+despair and I presently soar up out of those depressing depths into
+intoxicating altitudes of aspiration and self-confidence.
+
+You yourself know how it is, of course. At the criticism today I was
+lifted to the seventh heaven. "_Pas mal_," he said; "_continuez,
+mademoiselle_." Which is wonderful for him. Also my weekly sketch was
+chosen from among all the others, and I was given number one. That
+means my choice of _tabourets_ on Monday morning, _voyez vous_? So do
+you wonder that I came home with Suzanne, walking on air, and that as
+soon as _dejeuner_ was finished I flew in here to write to you about
+it?
+
+Suzanne is our maid--the maid of Princess Naia, of course--who walks
+to and from school with me. I didn't wish her to follow me about at
+first, but the Princess insisted, and I'm resigned to it now.
+
+The Princess Mistchenka is such a darling! I owe her more than I owe
+anybody except mother and father. She simply took me as I was, a
+young, stupid, ignorant, awkward country girl with no experience, no
+_savoir-faire_, no clothes, and even no knowledge of how to wear
+them; and she is trying to make out of me a fairly intelligent and
+presentable human being who will not offend her by _gaucheries_ when
+with her, and who will not disgrace her when in the circle of her
+friends.
+
+Oh, of course I still make a _faux pas_ now and then, _mon ami_; there
+are dreadful pitfalls in the French language into which I have fallen
+more than once. And at times I have almost died of mortification. But
+everybody is so amiable and patient, so polite, so gay about my
+mistakes. I am beginning to love the French. And I am learning so
+much! I had no idea what a capacity I had for learning things. But
+then, with Princess Naia, and with my kind and patient teachers and my
+golden opportunities, even a very stupid girl must learn _something_.
+And I am not really very stupid; I've discovered that. On the
+contrary, I really seem to learn quite rapidly; and all that annoys me
+is that there is so much to learn and the days are not long enough, so
+anxious am I, so ambitious, so determined to get out of this wonderful
+opportunity everything I possibly can extract.
+
+I have lived in these few months more years than my own age adds up! I
+am growing old and wise very fast. Please hasten to write to me before
+I have grown so old that you would not recognize me if you met me.
+
+ Your friend,
+ Ruhannah.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The letter flattered him. He was rather glad he had once kissed the
+girl who could write such a letter.
+
+He happened to be engaged, at that time, in drawing several
+illustrations for a paper called the _Midweek Magazine_. There was a
+heroine, of course, in the story he was illustrating. And, from
+memory, and in spite of the model posing for him, he made the face
+like the face of Ruhannah Carew.
+
+But the days passed, and he did not reply to her letter. Then there
+came still another letter from her:
+
+Why don't you write me just one line? Have you _really_ forgotten me?
+You'd like me if you knew me now, I think. I am really quite grown up.
+And I am _so_ happy!
+
+The Princess is simply adorable. Always we are busy, Princess Naia and
+I; and now, since I have laid aside mourning, we go to concerts; we go
+to plays; we have been six times to the opera, and as many more to the
+Theatre Francais; we have been to the Louvre and the Luxembourg many
+times; to St. Cloud, Versailles, Fontainebleau.
+
+Always, when my studies are over, we do something interesting; and I
+am beginning to know Paris, and to care for it with real affection; to
+feel secure and happy and at home in this dear, glittering,
+silvery-grey city--full of naked trees and bridges and palaces. And,
+sometimes when I feel homesick, and lonely, and when Brookhollow seems
+very, very far away, it troubles me a little to find that I am not
+nearly so homesick as I think I ought to be. But I think it must be
+like seasickness; it is too frightful to last.
+
+The Princess Mistchenka has nursed me through the worst. All I can say
+is that she is very wonderful.
+
+On her day, which is Thursday, her pretty _salon_ is thronged. At
+first I was too shy and embarrassed to be anything but frightened and
+self-conscious and very miserable when I sat beside her on her
+Thursdays. Besides, I was in mourning and did not appear on formal
+occasions.
+
+Now it is different; I take my place beside her; I am not
+self-conscious; I am interested; I find pleasure in knowing people who
+are so courteous, so considerate, so gay and entertaining.
+
+Everybody is agreeable and gay, and I am sorry that I miss so much
+that is witty in what is said; but I am learning French very rapidly.
+
+The men are polite to me! At first I was so _gauche_, so stupid and
+provincial, that I could not bear to have anybody kiss my hand and pay
+me compliments. I've made a lot of other mistakes, too, but I never
+make the same mistake twice.
+
+So many interesting men come to our Thursdays; and some women. I
+prefer the men, I think. There is one old French General who is a
+dear; and there are young officers, too; and yesterday two cabinet
+ministers and several people from the British and Russian embassies.
+And the Turkish Charge, whom I dislike.
+
+The women seem to be agreeable, and they all are most beautifully
+gowned. Some have titles. But all seem to be a little too much made
+up. I don't know any of them except formally. But I feel that I know
+some of the men better--especially the old General and a young
+military attache of the Russian Embassy, whom everybody likes and
+pets, and whom everybody calls Prince Erlik--such a handsome boy! And
+his real name is Alak, and I think he is very much in love with
+Princess Naia.
+
+Now, something very odd has happened which I wish to tell you about.
+My father, as you know, was missionary in the Vilayet of Trebizond
+many years ago. While there he came into possession of a curious sea
+chest belonging to a German named Conrad Wilner, who was killed in a
+riot near Gallipoli.
+
+In this chest were, and still are, two very interesting things--an old
+bronze Chinese figure which I used to play with when I was a child. It
+was called the Yellow Devil; and a native Chinese missionary once read
+for us the inscription on the figure which identified it as a Mongol
+demon called Erlik, the Prince of Darkness.
+
+The other object of interest in the box was the manuscript diary kept
+by this Herr Wilner to within a few moments of his death. This I have
+often heard read aloud by my father, but I forget much of it now, and
+I never understood it all, because I was too young. Now, here is the
+curious thing about it all. The first time you spoke to me of the
+Princess Naia Mistchenka, I had a hazy idea that her name seemed
+familiar to me. And ever since I have known her, now and then I found
+myself trying to recollect where I had heard that name, even before I
+heard it from you.
+
+Suddenly, one evening about a week ago, it came to me that I had heard
+both the names, Naia and Mistchenka, when I was a child. Also the name
+Erlik. The two former names occur in Herr Wilner's diary; the latter
+I heard from the Chinese missionary years ago; and that is why they
+seemed so familiar to me.
+
+It is so long since I have read the diary that I can't remember the
+story in which the names Naia and Mistchenka are concerned. As I
+recollect, it was a tragic story that used to thrill me.
+
+At any rate, I didn't speak of this to Princess Naia; but about a week
+ago there were a few people dining here with us--among others an old
+Turkish Admiral, Murad Pasha, who took me out. And as soon as I heard
+_his_ name I thought of that diary; and I am sure it was mentioned in
+it.
+
+Anyway, he happened to speak of Trebizond; and, naturally, I said that
+my father had been a missionary there many years ago.
+
+As this seemed to interest him, and because he questioned me, I told
+him my father's name and all that I knew in regard to his career as a
+missionary in the Trebizond district. And, somehow--I don't exactly
+recollect how it came about--I spoke of Herr Wilner, and his death at
+Gallipoli, and how his effects came into my father's possession.
+
+And because the old, sleepy-eyed Admiral seemed so interested and
+amused, I told him about Herr Wilner's box and his diary and the plans
+and maps and photographs with which I used to play as a little child.
+
+After dinner, Princess Naia asked me what it was I had been telling
+Murad Pasha to wake him up so completely and to keep him so amused. So
+I merely said that I had been telling the Admiral about my childhood
+in Brookhollow.
+
+Naturally neither she nor I thought about the incident any further.
+Murad did not come again; but a few days later the Turkish Charge
+d'Affaires was present at a very large dinner given by Princess Naia.
+
+And two curious conversations occurred at that dinner:
+
+The Turkish Charge suddenly turned to me and asked me in English
+whether I were not the daughter of the Reverend Wilbour Carew who once
+was in charge of the American Mission near Trebizond. I was so
+surprised at the question; but I answered yes, remembering that Murad
+must have mentioned me to him.
+
+He continued to ask me about my father, and spoke of his efforts to
+establish a girls' school, first at Brusa, then at Tchardak, and
+finally near Gallipoli. I told him I had often heard my father speak
+of these matters with my mother, but that I was too young to remember
+anything about my own life in Turkey.
+
+All the while we were conversing, I noticed that the Princess kept
+looking across the table at us as though some chance word had
+attracted her attention.
+
+After dinner, when the gentlemen had retired to the smoking room, the
+Princess took me aside and made me repeat everything that Ahmed Mirka
+had asked me.
+
+I told her. She said that the Turkish Charge was an old busybody,
+always sniffing about for all sorts of information; that it was safer
+to be reticent and let him do the talking; and that almost every scrap
+of conversation with him was mentally noted and later transcribed for
+the edification of the Turkish Secret Service.
+
+I thought this very humorous; but going into the little _salon_ where
+the piano was and where the music was kept, while I was looking for an
+old song by Messager, from "La Basoche," called "Je suis aime de la
+plus belle--" Ahmed Mirka's handsome attache, Colonel Izzet Bey, came
+up to where I was rummaging in the music cabinet.
+
+He talked nonsense in French and in English for a while, but somehow
+the conversation led again toward my father and the girls' school at
+Gallipoli which had been attacked and burned by a mob during the first
+month after it had been opened, and where the German, Herr Wilner, had
+been killed.
+
+"Monsieur, your reverend father, must surely have told you stories
+about the destruction of the Gallipoli school, mademoiselle," he
+insisted.
+
+"Yes. It happened a year before the mission at Trebizond was destroyed
+by the Turks." I said maliciously.
+
+"So I have heard. What a pity! Our Osmanli--our peasantry are so
+stupid! And it was such a fine school. A German engineer was killed
+there, I believe."
+
+"Yes, my father said so."
+
+"A certain Herr Conrad Wilner, was it not?"
+
+"Yes. How did you hear of him, Colonel Izzet?"
+
+"It was known in Stamboul. He perished by mistake, I believe--at
+Gallipoli."
+
+"Yes; my father said that Herr Wilner was the only man hurt. He went
+out all alone into the mob and began to cut them with his riding whip.
+My father tried to save him, but they killed Herr Wilner with
+stones."
+
+"Exactly." He spread his beautifully jewelled hands deprecatingly and
+seemed greatly grieved.
+
+"And Herr Wilner's--property?" he inquired. "Did you ever hear what
+became of it?"
+
+"Oh, yes," I said. "My father took charge of it."
+
+"Oh! It was supposed at the time that all of Herr Wilner's personal
+property was destroyed when the school and compound burned. Do you
+happen to know just what was saved, mademoiselle?"
+
+Of course I immediately thought of the bronze demon, the box of
+instruments, and the photographs and papers at home with which I used
+to play as a child. I remembered my father had said that these things
+were taken on board the _Oneida_ when he, my mother, and I were
+rescued by marines and sailors from our guard vessel which came
+through the Bosporus to the Black Sea, and which escorted us to the
+_Oneida_. And I was just going to tell this to Izzet Bey when I also
+remembered what the Princess had just told me about giving any
+information to Ahmed Pasha. So I merely opened my eyes very innocently
+and gazed at Colonel Izzet and shook my head as though I did not
+understand his question.
+
+The next instant the Princess came in to see what I was about so long,
+and she looked at Izzet Bey with a funny sort of smile, as though she
+had surprised him in mischief and was not angry, only amused. And when
+Colonel Izzet bowed, I saw how red his face had grown--as red as his
+fez.
+
+The Princess laughed and said in French: "That is the difference
+between professional and amateur--between Nizam and Redif--between
+Ahmed Pasha and our esteemed but very youthful attache--who has much
+yet to learn about that endless war called Peace!"
+
+I didn't know what she meant, but Izzet Bey turned a bright scarlet,
+bowed again, and returned to the smoking room.
+
+And that night, while Suzanne was unhooking me, Princess Naia came
+into my bedroom and asked me some questions, and I told her about the
+box of instruments and the diary, and the slippery linen papers
+covered with drawings and German writing, with which I used to play.
+
+She said never to mention them to anybody, and that I should never
+permit anybody to examine those military papers, because it might be
+harmful to America.
+
+How odd and how thrilling! I am most curious to know what all this
+means. It seems like an exciting story just beginning, and I wonder
+what such a girl as I has to do with secrets which concern the Turkish
+Charge in Paris.
+
+Don't you think it promises to be romantic? Do you suppose it has
+anything to do with spies and diplomacy and kings and thrones, and
+terrible military secrets? One hears a great deal about the embassies
+here being hotbeds of political intrigue. And of course France is
+always thinking of Alsace and Lorraine, and there is an ever-present
+danger of war in Europe.
+
+Mr. Neeland, it thrills me to pretend to myself that I am actually
+living in the plot of a romance full of mystery and diplomacy and
+dangerous possibilities. I _hope_ something will develop, as something
+always does in novels.
+
+And alas, my imagination, which always has been vivid, needed almost
+nothing to blaze into flame. It is on fire now; I dream of courts and
+armies, and ambassadors, and spies; I construct stories in which I am
+the heroine always--sometimes the interesting and temporary victim of
+wicked plots; sometimes the all-powerful, dauntless, and adroit
+champion of honour and righteousness against treachery and evil!
+
+Did you ever suppose that I still could remain such a very little
+girl? But I fear that I shall never outgrow my imagination. And it
+needs almost nothing to set me dreaming out stories or drawing
+pictures of castles and princes and swans and fairies. And even this
+letter seems a part of some breathlessly interesting plot which I am
+not only creating but actually a living part of and destined to act
+in.
+
+Do you want a part in it? Shall I include you? Rather late to ask your
+permission, for I have already included you. And, somehow, I think the
+Yellow Devil ought to be included, too.
+
+Please write to me, just once. But don't speak of the papers which
+father had, and don't mention Herr Conrad Wilner's box if you write.
+The Princess says your letter might be stolen.
+
+I am very happy. It is rather cold tonight, and presently Suzanne will
+unhook me and I shall put on such a pretty negligee, and then curl up
+in bed, turn on my reading light with the pink shade, and continue to
+read the new novel recommended to me by Princess Naia, called "Le
+Crime de Sylvestre Bonnard." It is a perfectly darling story, and
+Anatole France, who wrote it, must be a darling, too. The Princess
+knows him and promises that he shall dine with us some day. I expect
+to fall in love with him immediately.
+
+Good night, dear Mr. Neeland. I _hope_ you will write to me.
+
+ Your little Gayfield friend grown up,
+ Ruhannah Carew.
+
+This letter he finally did answer, not voluminously, but with all
+cordiality. And, in a few days, forgot about it and about the girl to
+whom it was written. And there was nothing more from her until early
+summer.
+
+Then came the last of her letters--an entirely mature missive, firm in
+writing, decisive, concise, self-possessed, eloquent with an
+indefinite something which betrayed a calmly ordered mind already
+being moulded by discipline _mondaine_:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+My dear Mr. Neeland:
+
+I had your very kind and charming letter in reply to mine written last
+January. My neglect to answer it, during all these months, involves
+me in explanations which, if you like, are perhaps due you. But if you
+require them at all, I had rather surrender them to you personally
+when we meet.
+
+Possibly that encounter, so happily anticipated on my part, may occur
+sooner than you believe likely. I permit myself to hope so. The note
+which I enclose to you from the lady whom I love very dearly should
+explain why I venture to entertain a hope that you and I are to see
+each other again in the near future.
+
+As you were kind enough to inquire about myself and what you describe
+so flatteringly as my "amazing progress in artistic and worldly
+wisdom," I venture to reply to your questions in order:
+
+They seem to be pleased with me at the school. I have a life-drawing
+"on the wall," a composition sketch, and a "_concours_" study in oil.
+That I have not burst to atoms with pride is a miracle inexplicable.
+
+I have been told that my progress at the piano is fair. But I am very
+certain I shall do no more with vocal and instrumental music than to
+play and sing acceptably for such kind and uncritical friends as do
+not demand much of an amateur. Without any unusual gifts, with a
+rather sensitive ear, and with a very slightly cultivated and
+perfectly childish voice--please do not expect anything from me to
+please you.
+
+In French I am already becoming fluent. You see, except for certain
+lessons in it, I have scarcely heard a word of English since I came
+here; the Princess will not use it to me nor permit its use by me. And
+therefore, my ear being a musical one and rather accurate, I find--now
+that I look back upon my abysmal ignorance--a very decided progress.
+
+Also let me admit to you--and I have already done so, I see--that,
+since I have been here, I have had daily lessons in English with a
+cultivated English woman; and in consequence I have been learning to
+enlarge a very meagre vocabulary, and have begun to appreciate
+possibilities in my own language of which I never dreamed.
+
+About my personal appearance--as long as you ask me--I think perhaps
+that, were I less thin, I might be rather pretty. Dress makes such a
+vast difference in a plain girl. Also, intelligent care of one's
+person improves mediocrity. Of course everybody says such gracious
+things to a girl over here that it would not do to accept any pretty
+compliment very literally. But I really believe that you might think
+me rather nice to look at.
+
+As for the future, the truth is that I feel much encouraged. I made
+some drawings in wash and in pen and ink--just ideas of mine. And
+Monsieur Bonvard, who is editor of _The Grey Cat_--a very clever
+weekly--has accepted them and has paid me twenty-five francs each for
+them! I was so astonished that I could not believe it. One has been
+reproduced in last week's paper. I have cut it out and pasted it in my
+scrapbook.
+
+I think, take it all in all, that seeing my first illustrations
+printed has given me greater joy than I shall ever again experience on
+earth.
+
+My daily intercourse with the Princess Mistchenka continues to comfort
+me, inspire me, and fill me with determination so to educate myself
+that when the time comes I shall be ready and able to support myself
+with pen and pencil.
+
+And now I must bring my letter to its end. The prospect of seeing you
+very soon is agreeable beyond words. You have been very kind to me. I
+do not forget it.
+
+ Yours very sincerely,
+ Ruhannah Carew.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The enclosure was a note from the Princess Mistchenka:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Dear Jim:
+
+If in the past it has been my good fortune to add anything to yours,
+may I now invoke in you the memory of our very frank and delightful
+friendship?
+
+When you first returned to America from Paris I found it possible to
+do for you a few favours in the way of making you known to certain
+editors. It was, I assure you, merely because I liked you and believed
+in your work, not because I ever expected to ask from you any favour
+in return.
+
+Now, Fate has thrown an odd combination from her dice-box; and Destiny
+has veiled herself so impenetrably that nobody can read that awful
+visage to guess what thoughts possess her.
+
+You, in America, have heard of the murder of the Austrian Archduke, of
+course. But--have you, in America, any idea what the consequences of
+that murder may lead to?
+
+Enough of that. Now for the favour I ask.
+
+Will you go _at once_ to Brookhollow, go to Ruhannah's house, open it,
+take from it a chest made of olive wood and bound with some metal
+which looks like silver, lock the box, take it to New York, place it
+in a safe deposit vault until you can sail for Paris on the first
+steamer that leaves New York?
+
+Will you do this--get the box I have described and bring it to me
+yourself on the first steamer that sails?
+
+And, Jim, keep your eye on the box. Don't trust anybody near it. Rue
+says that, as she recollects, the box is about the size and shape of a
+suitcase and that it has a canvas and leather cover with a handle
+which buttons over it.
+
+Therefore, you can carry it yourself exactly as though it were your
+suitcase, keep it with you in the train and on shipboard.
+
+Will you do this, Jim? It is much to ask of you. I break in upon your
+work and cause you great inconvenience and trouble and expense.
+But--will you do it for me?
+
+Much depends upon your doing this. I think that possibly the welfare
+of your own country might depend on your doing this for me.
+
+If you find yourself embarrassed financially, cable me just one word,
+"Black," and I shall arrange matters through a New York bank.
+
+If you feel that you do not care to do me this favour, cable the
+single word, "White."
+
+If you have sufficient funds, and are willing to bring the box to me
+yourself, cable the word, "Blue."
+
+In case that you undertake this business for me, be careful of the
+contents of the box. Let nobody see it open. Be certain that the
+contents are absolutely secure. I dare not tell you how vitally
+important to civilisation these papers already are--how much they may
+mean to the world; what powers of evil they might encourage if in any
+way they fall into other hands than the right ones.
+
+Jim, I have seldom taken a very serious tone with you since we have
+known each other. I am very serious now. And if our friendship means
+anything to you, prove it!
+
+ Yours,
+ Naia.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+As he sat there in his studio, perplexed, amazed, annoyed, yet
+curious, trying to think out what he ought to do--what, in fact, must
+be done somehow or other--there came a ring at his door bell. A
+messenger with a cable despatch stood there; Neeland signed, tore open
+the envelope, and read:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Please go at once to Brookhollow and secure an olive-wood box bound
+with silver, containing military maps, plans, photographs, and papers
+written in German, property of Ruhannah Carew. Lose no time, I implore
+you, as an attempt to rob the house and steal the papers is likely.
+Beware of anybody resembling a German. Have written, but beg you not
+to wait for letter.
+
+ Naia.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Twice he reread the cablegram. Then, with a half-bewildered,
+half-disgusted glance around at his studio, his belongings, the
+unfinished work on his easel, he went to the telephone.
+
+It being July he had little difficulty in reserving a good stateroom
+on the Cunarder _Volhynia_, sailing the following day. Then, summoning
+the janitor, he packed a steamer trunk and gave order to have it taken
+aboard that evening.
+
+On his way downtown to his bank he stopped at a telegraph and cable
+office and sent a cable message to the Princess Mistchenka. The text
+consisted of only one word: "Blue."
+
+He departed for Gayfield on the five o'clock afternoon train, carrying
+with him a suitcase and an automatic pistol in his breast pocket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A JOURNEY BEGINS
+
+
+It was a five-hour trip. He dined aboard the train with little desire
+for food, the July evening being oppressive, and a thunder storm
+brewing over the Hudson. It burst in the vicinity of Fishkill with a
+lively display of lightning, deluging the Catskills with rain. And
+when he changed to a train on the Mohawk division the cooler air was
+agreeably noticeable.
+
+He changed trains again at Orangeville, and here the night breeze was
+delightful and the scent of rain-soaked meadows came through the open
+car window.
+
+It was nearly ten o'clock and already, ahead, he caught sight of the
+lights of Neeland's Mills. Always the homecoming was a keen delight to
+him; and now, as he stepped off the train, the old familiar odours
+were in his nostrils--the unique composite perfume of the native place
+which never can be duplicated elsewhere.
+
+All the sweet and aromatic and homely smells of earth and land and
+water came to him with his first deep-drawn breath. The rank growth of
+wild flowers and weeds were part of it--the flat atmosphere of the
+mill pond, always redolent of water weed and lily pads, tinctured it;
+distant fields of buckwheat added heavier perfume.
+
+Neither in the quaint brick feed mill nor in the lumber mill were
+there any lights, but in his own home, almost buried among tall trees
+and vines, the light streamed from the sitting-room windows.
+
+From the dark yard two or three dogs barked at him, then barked again
+in a different key, voicing an excited welcome; and he opened the
+picket gate and went up the path surrounded by demonstrative setters
+and pointers, leaping and wagging about him and making a vast amount
+of noise on the vine-covered verandah as he opened the door, let
+himself into the house, and shut them out.
+
+"Hello, dad!" he said, crossing swiftly to where his father sat by the
+reading lamp.
+
+Their powerful grip lingered. Old Dick Neeland, ruddy, white-haired,
+straight as a pine, stood up in his old slippers and quilted smoking
+coat, his brier pipe poised in his left hand.
+
+"Splendid, Jim. I've been thinking about you this evening." He might
+have added that there were few moments when his son was not in his
+thoughts.
+
+"Are you all right, dad?"
+
+"Absolutely. You are, too, I see."
+
+They seated themselves.
+
+"Hungry, Jim?"
+
+"No; I dined aboard."
+
+"You didn't telegraph me."
+
+"No; I came at short notice."
+
+"Can't you stay?"
+
+"Dad, I have a drawing-room reserved for the midnight tonight, and I
+am sailing on the _Volhynia_ tomorrow at nine in the morning!"
+
+"God bless me! Why, Jim?"
+
+"Dad, I'll tell you all I know about it."
+
+His father sat with brier pipe suspended and keen blue eyes fixed on
+his son, while the son told everything he knew about the reason for
+his flying trip to Paris.
+
+"You see how it is, don't you, dad?" he ended. "The Princess has been
+a good and loyal friend to me. She has used her influence; I have met,
+through her, the people I ought to know, and they have given me work
+to do. I'm in her debt; I'm under real obligation to her. And I've got
+to go, that's all."
+
+Old Dick Neeland's clear eyes of a sportsman continued to study his
+son's face.
+
+"Yes, you've got to go," he said. He smoked for a few moments, then:
+"What the devil does it mean, anyway? Have you any notion, Jim?"
+
+"No, I haven't. There seems to be some military papers in this box
+that is mentioned. Evidently they are of value to somebody. Evidently
+other people have got wind of that fact and desire to obtain them for
+themselves. It almost seems as though something is brewing over
+there--trouble of some sort between Germany and some other nation. But
+I haven't heard of anything."
+
+His father continued to smoke for a while, then:
+
+"There _is_ something brewing over there, Jim."
+
+"I hadn't heard," repeated the young man.
+
+"I haven't either, directly. But in my business some unusual orders
+have come through--from abroad. Both France and Germany have been
+making inquiries through agents in regard to shipments of grain and
+feed and lumber. I've heard of several very heavy rush orders."
+
+"What on earth could cause war?"
+
+"I can't see, Jim. Of course Austria's attitude toward Servia is very
+sullen. But outside of that I can see no trouble threatening.
+
+"And yet, the Gayfield woollen mill has just received an enormous
+order for socks and underwear from the French Government. They're
+running all night now. And another thing struck me: there has been a
+man in this section buying horses for the British Government. Of
+course it's done now and then, but, taking this incident with the
+others which have come to my personal knowledge, it would seem as
+though something were brewing over in Europe."
+
+Jim's perplexed eyes rested on his father; he shook his youthful head
+slightly:
+
+"I can't see why," he said. "But if it's to be France and Germany
+again, why my sympathy is entirely for France."
+
+"Naturally," nodded his father.
+
+Their Irish ancestors had fought for Bonaparte, and for the Bourbons
+before him. And, cursed with cousins, like all Irish, they were aware
+of plenty of Neelands in France who spoke no English.
+
+Jim rose, glanced at his watch:
+
+"Dad, I'll just be running over to Brookhollow to get that box. I
+haven't such a lot of time, if I'm to catch the midnight train at
+Orangeville."
+
+"I should say you hadn't," said his father.
+
+He was disappointed, but he smiled as he exchanged a handclasp with
+his only son.
+
+"You're coming right back from Paris?"
+
+"Next steamer. I've a lot of work on hand, thank goodness! But that
+only puts me under heavier obligations to the Princess Mistchenka."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. Anything but ingratitude, Jim. It's the vilest
+vice of 'em all. They say it's in the Irish blood--ingratitude. They
+must never prove it by a Neeland. Well, my boy--I'm not lonesome, you
+understand; busy men have no time to be lonesome--but run up, will
+you, when you get back?"
+
+"You bet I will."
+
+"I'll show you a brace of promising pups. They stand rabbits, still,
+but they won't when the season is over."
+
+"Blue Bird's pups?"
+
+"Yes. They take after her."
+
+"Fine! I'll be back for the shooting, anyway. Many broods this
+season?"
+
+"A fair number. It was not too wet."
+
+For a moment they lingered, smiling at each other, then Jim gave his
+father's hand a quick shake, picked up his suitcase, turned.
+
+"I'll take the runabout, dad. Someone from the Orangeville garage will
+bring it over in the morning."
+
+He went out, pushed his way among the leaping dogs to the garage,
+threw open the doors, and turned on the electric light.
+
+A slim and trim Snapper runabout stood glistening beside a larger car
+and two automobile trucks. He exchanged his straw hat for a cap;
+placed hat and suitcase in the boot; picked up a flash light from the
+work-table, and put it into his pocket, cranked the Snapper, jumped
+in, ran it to the service entrance, where his father stood ready to
+check the dogs and close the gates after him.
+
+"Good-bye, dad!" he called out gaily.
+
+"Good-bye, my son."
+
+The next instant he was speeding through the starry darkness,
+following the dazzling path blazed out for him by his headlights.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE LOCKED HOUSE
+
+
+From the road, just before he descended to cross the bridge into
+Brookhollow, he caught a gleam of light straight ahead. For a moment
+it did not occur to him that there was anything strange in his seeing
+a light in the old Carew house. Then, suddenly, he realised that a
+light ought not to be burning behind the lowered shades of a house
+which was supposed to be empty and locked.
+
+His instant impulse was to put on his brakes then and there, but the
+next moment he realised that his car must already have been heard and
+seen by whoever had lighted that shaded lamp. The car was already on
+the old stone bridge; the Carew house stood directly behind the
+crossroads ahead; and he swung to the right into the creek road and
+sped along it until he judged that neither his lights nor the sound of
+his motor could be distinguished by the unknown occupant of the Carew
+house.
+
+Then he ran his car out among the tall weeds close to the line of
+scrub willows edging the creek; extinguished his lights, including the
+tail-lamp; left his engine running; stood listening a moment to the
+whispering whirr of his motor; then, taking the flash light from his
+pocket, he climbed over the roadside wall and ran back across the
+pasture toward the house.
+
+As he approached the old house from the rear, no crack of light was
+visible, and he began to think he might have been mistaken--that
+perhaps the dancing glare of his own acetylenes on the windows had
+made it seem as though they were illuminated from within.
+
+Cautiously he prowled along the rear under the kitchen windows, turned
+the corner, and went to the front porch.
+
+He had made no mistake; a glimmer was visible between the edge of the
+lowered shade and the window casing.
+
+Was it some impudent tramp who had preempted this lonely house for a
+night's lodging? Was it, possibly, a neighbour who had taken charge in
+return for a garden to cultivate and a place to sleep in? Yet, how
+could it be the latter when he himself had the keys to the house?
+Moreover, such an arrangement could scarcely have been made by Rue
+Carew without his being told of it.
+
+Then he remembered what the Princess Mistchenka had said in her cable
+message, that somebody might break into the house and steal the
+olive-wood box unless he hastened to Brookhollow and secured it
+immediately.
+
+Was this what was being done now? Had somebody broken in for that
+purpose? And who might it be?
+
+A slight chill, not entirely agreeable, passed over Neeland. A rather
+warm sensation of irritation succeeded it; he mounted the steps,
+crossed the verandah, went to the door and tried the knob very
+cautiously. The door was locked; whoever might be inside either
+possessed a key that fitted or else must have entered by forcing a
+window.
+
+But Neeland had neither time nor inclination to prowl around and
+investigate; he had a duty to fulfil, a train to catch, and a steamer
+to connect with the next morning. Besides, he was getting madder every
+second.
+
+So he fitted his key to the door, careless of what noise he made,
+unlocked and pushed it open, and started to cross the threshold.
+
+Instantly the light in the adjoining room grew dim. At the same moment
+his quick ear caught a sound as though somebody had blown out the
+turned-down flame; and he found himself facing total darkness.
+
+"Who the devil's in there!" he called, flashing his electric pocket
+lamp. "Come out, whoever you are. You've no business in this house,
+and you know it!" And he entered the silent room.
+
+His flash light revealed nothing except dining-room furniture in
+disorder, the doors of a cupboard standing open--one door still gently
+swinging on its hinges.
+
+The invisible hand that had moved it could not be far away. Neeland,
+throwing his light right and left, caught a glimpse of another door
+closing stealthily, ran forward and jerked it open. His lamp
+illuminated an empty passageway; he hurried through it to the door
+that closed the farther end, tore it open, and deluged the
+sitting-room with his blinding light.
+
+Full in the glare, her face as white as the light itself, stood a
+woman. And just in time his eyes caught the glitter of a weapon in her
+stiffly extended hand; and he snapped off his light and ducked as the
+level pistol-flame darted through the darkness.
+
+The next second he had her in his grasp; held her writhing and
+twisting; and, through the confused trample and heavy breathing, he
+noticed a curious crackling noise as though the clothing she wore were
+made of paper.
+
+The struggle in pitch darkness was violent but brief; she managed to
+fire again as he caught her right arm and felt along it until he
+touched the desperately clenched pistol. Then, still clutching her
+closed fingers, he pulled the flash light from his side pocket and
+threw its full radiance straight into her face.
+
+"Let go your pistol," he breathed.
+
+She strove doggedly to retain it, but her slender fingers slowly
+relaxed under his merciless grip; the pistol fell; and he kicked the
+pearl-handled, nickel-plated weapon across the dusty board floor.
+
+They both were panting; her right arm, rigid, still remained in his
+powerful clutch. He released it presently, stepped back, and played
+the light over her from head to foot.
+
+She was deathly white. Under her smart straw hat, which had been
+pushed awry, the contrast between her black hair and eyes and her
+chalky skin was startling.
+
+"What are you doing in this house?" he demanded, still breathing
+heavily from exertion and excitement.
+
+She made an effort:
+
+"Is it your house?" she gasped.
+
+"It isn't yours, is it?" he retorted.
+
+She made no answer.
+
+"Why did you shoot at me?"
+
+She lifted her black eyes and stared at him. Her breast rose and fell
+with her rapid breathing, and she placed both hands over it as though
+to quiet it.
+
+"Come," he said, "I'm in a hurry. I want an explanation from you----"
+
+The words died on his lips as she whipped a knife out of her bosom and
+flew at him. Through the confusion of flash light and darkness they
+reeled, locked together, but he caught her arm again, jerking it so
+violently into the air that he lifted her off her feet.
+
+"That's about all for tonight," he panted, twisting the knife out of
+her helpless hand and flinging it behind him. Without further
+ceremony, he pulled out his handkerchief, caught her firmly, reached
+for her other arm, jerked it behind her back, and tied both wrists.
+Then he dragged a chair up and pushed her on it.
+
+Her hat had fallen off, and her hair sagged to her neck. The frail
+stuff of which her waist was made had been badly torn, too, and hung
+in rags from her right shoulder.
+
+"Who are you?" he demanded.
+
+As she made no reply, he went over and picked up the knife and the
+pistol. The knife was a silver-mounted Kurdish dagger; the engraved
+and inlaid blade appeared to be dull and rusty. He examined it for a
+few moments, glanced inquiringly at her where she sat, pale and mute
+on the chair, with both wrists tied behind her.
+
+"You seem to be a connoisseur of antiques," he said. "Your dagger is
+certainly a collector's gem, and your revolver is equally out of date.
+I recommend an automatic the next time you contemplate doing murder."
+
+Walking up to her he looked curiously into her dark eyes, but he could
+detect no expression in them.
+
+"Why did you come here?" he demanded.
+
+No answer.
+
+"Did you come to get an olive-wood box bound with silver?"
+
+A slight colour tinted the ashy pallor under her eyes.
+
+He turned abruptly and swept the furniture with his searchlight, and
+saw on a table her coat, gloves, wrist bag, and furled umbrella; and
+beside them what appeared to be her suitcase, open. It had a canvas
+and leather cover: he walked over to the table, turned back the cover
+of the suitcase and revealed a polished box of olive wood, heavily
+banded by some metal resembling silver.
+
+Inside the box were books, photographs, a bronze Chinese figure, which
+he recognised as the Yellow Devil, a pair of revolvers, a dagger very
+much like the one he had wrested from her. _But there were no military
+plans there._
+
+He turned to his prisoner:
+
+"Is everything here?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Yes."
+
+He picked up her wrist bag and opened it, but discovered only some
+money, a handkerchief, a spool of thread and packet of needles.
+
+There was a glass lamp on the table. He managed to light it finally;
+turned off his flash light, and examined the contents of the box again
+thoroughly. Then he came back to where she was seated.
+
+"Get up," he said.
+
+She looked at him sullenly without moving.
+
+"I'm in a hurry," he repeated; "get up. I'm going to search you."
+
+At that she bounded to her feet.
+
+"What!" she exclaimed furiously.
+
+But he caught hold of her, held her, untied the handkerchief, freeing
+her wrists.
+
+"Now, pull out those papers you have concealed under your clothing,"
+he said impatiently. And, as she made no motion to comply: "If you
+don't, I'll do it for you!"
+
+"You dare lay your hand on me!" she flamed.
+
+"You treacherous little cat, do you think I'll hesitate?" he retorted.
+"Do you imagine I retain any respect for you or your person? Give me
+those papers!"
+
+"I have no papers!"
+
+"You are lying. Listen to me once for all; I've a train to catch and a
+steamer to catch, and I'm going to do both. And if you don't instantly
+hand out those papers you've concealed I'll have no more compunction
+in taking them by force than I'd have in stripping an ear of corn!
+Make up your mind and make it up quick!"
+
+"You mean you'd strip--_me_!" she stammered, scarlet to her hair.
+
+"That's what I mean, you lying little thief. That's just what I mean.
+Kick and squall as you like, I'll take those papers with me if I have
+to take your clothing too!"
+
+Breathless, infuriated, she looked desperately around her, caught
+sight of the Kurdish dagger, leaped at it; and for the third time
+found herself struggling in his arms.
+
+"Don't!" she gasped. "Let me go! I--I'll give you what you want----"
+
+"Do you mean it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He released the dishevelled girl, who shrank away from him. But the
+devil himself glowed in her black eyes.
+
+"Go out of the room," she said, "if I'm to get the papers for you!"
+
+"I can't trust you," he answered. "I'll turn my back." And he walked
+over to the olive-wood box, where the weapons lay.
+
+Standing there he heard, presently, the rustle of crumpling papers,
+heard a half-smothered sob, waited, listening, alert for further
+treachery on her part.
+
+"Hurry!" he said.
+
+A board creaked.
+
+"Don't move again!" he cried. The floor boards creaked once more; and
+he turned like a flash to find her in her stocking feet, already
+halfway to where he stood. In either hand she held out a bundle of
+papers; and, as they faced each other, she took another step toward
+him.
+
+"Stand where you are," he warned her. "Throw those papers on the
+floor!"
+
+"I----"
+
+"Do you hear!"
+
+Looking him straight in the eyes she opened both hands; the papers
+fell at her feet, and with them dropped the two dagger-like steel pins
+which had held her hat.
+
+"Now, go and put on your shoes," he said contemptuously, picking up
+the papers and running over them. When he had counted them, he came
+back to where she was standing.
+
+"Where are the others?"
+
+"What others?"
+
+"The remainder of the papers! You little devil, they're wrapped around
+your body! Go into that pantry! Go quick! Undress and throw out every
+rag you wear!"
+
+She drew a deep, quivering breath, turned, entered the pantry and
+closed the door. Presently the door opened a little and her clothing
+dropped outside in a heap.
+
+There were papers in her stockings, papers stitched to her stays,
+basted inside her skirts. A roll of drawings traced on linen lay on
+the floor, still retaining the warmth of her body around which they
+had been wrapped.
+
+He pulled the faded embroidered cover from the old piano and knocked
+at the pantry door.
+
+"Put that on," he said, "and come out."
+
+She emerged, swathed from ankle to chin, her flushed face shadowed by
+her fallen mass of dark hair. He turned his flash light on the
+cupboard, but discovered nothing more. Then he picked up her hat,
+clothes, and shoes, laid them on the pantry shelf, and curtly bade her
+go back and dress.
+
+"May I have the lamp and that looking glass?"
+
+"If you like," he said, preoccupied with the papers.
+
+While she was dressing, he repacked the olive-wood box. She emerged
+presently, carrying the lamp, and he took it from her hurriedly, not
+knowing whether she might elect to throw it at his head.
+
+While she was putting on her jacket he stood watching her with
+perplexed and sombre gaze.
+
+"I think," he remarked, "that I'll take you with me and drop you at
+the Orangeville jail on my way to town. Be kind enough to start toward
+the door."
+
+As she evinced no inclination to stir he passed one arm around her and
+lifted her along a few feet; and she turned on him, struggling, her
+face convulsed with fury.
+
+"Keep your insolent hands off me," she said. "Do you hear?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I hear." He nodded again toward the door. "Come," he
+repeated impatiently; "move on!"
+
+She hesitated; he picked up the olive-wood box, extinguished the lamp,
+opened his flash, and motioned with his head, significantly. She
+walked ahead of him, face lowered.
+
+Outside he closed and locked the door of the house.
+
+"This way," he said coldly. "If you refuse, I'll pick you up and
+carry you under my arm. I think by this time you realise I can do it,
+too."
+
+Halfway across the dark pasture she stopped short in her tracks.
+
+"Have I _got_ to carry you?" he demanded sharply.
+
+"Don't have me locked up."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I'm not a--a thief."
+
+"Oh! Excuse me. What are you?"
+
+"You know. Don't humiliate me."
+
+"Answer my question! What are you if you're not a lady crook?"
+
+"I'm employed--as _you_ are! Play the game fairly." She halted in the
+dark pasture, but he motioned her to go forward.
+
+"If you don't keep on walking," he said, "I'll pick you up as I would
+a pet cat and carry you. Now, then, once more, who are you working
+for? By whom are you employed, if you're not a plain thief?"
+
+"The--Turkish Embassy."
+
+"What!"
+
+"You knew it," she said in a low voice, walking through the darkness
+beside him.
+
+"What is your name?" he insisted.
+
+"Dumont."
+
+"What else?"
+
+"Ilse Dumont."
+
+"That's French."
+
+"It's Alsatian German."
+
+"All right. Now, why did you break into that house?"
+
+"To take what you took."
+
+"To steal these papers for the Turkish Embassy?"
+
+"To _take_ them."
+
+"For the Turkish Ambassador!" he repeated incredulously.
+
+"No; for his military attache."
+
+"What are you, a spy?"
+
+"You knew it well enough. You are one, also. But you have treated me
+as though I were a thief. You'll be killed for it, I hope."
+
+"You think I'm a spy?" he asked, astonished.
+
+"What else are you?"
+
+"A spy?" he repeated. "Is _that_ what _you_ are? And you suppose me to
+be one, too? That's funny. That's extremely----" He checked himself,
+looked around at her. "What are you about?" he demanded. "What's that
+in your hand?"
+
+"A cigarette."
+
+They had arrived at the road. He got over the wall with the box; she
+vaulted it lightly.
+
+In the darkness he caught the low, steady throbbing of his engine, and
+presently distinguished the car standing where he had left it.
+
+"Get in," he said briefly.
+
+"I am not a thief! Are you going to lay that charge against me?"
+
+"I don't know. Is it worse than charging you with three separate
+attempts to murder me?"
+
+"Are you going to take me to jail?"
+
+"I'll see. You'll go as far as Orangeville with me, anyhow."
+
+"I don't care to go."
+
+"I don't care whether you want to go or not. Get into the car!"
+
+She climbed to the seat beside the wheel; he tossed in the olive-wood
+box, turned on his lamps, and took the wheel.
+
+"May I have a match for my cigarette?" she asked meekly.
+
+He found one, scratched it; she placed a very thick and long cigarette
+between her lips and he lighted it for her.
+
+Just as he threw in the clutch and the car started, the girl blew a
+shower of sparks from the end of her cigarette, rose in her seat, and
+flung the lighted cigarette high into the air. Instantly it burst into
+a flare of crimson fire, hanging aloft as though it were a fire
+balloon, and lighting up road and creek and bushes and fields with a
+brilliant strontium glare.
+
+Then, far in the night, he heard a motor horn screech three times.
+
+"You young devil!" he said, increasing the speed. "I ought to have
+remembered that every snake has its mate.... If you offer to touch
+me--if you move--if you as much as lift a finger, I'll throw you into
+the creek!"
+
+The car was flying now, reeling over the dirt road like a drunken
+thing. He hung grimly to the wheel, his strained gaze fixed on the
+shaft of light ahead, through which the road streamed like a torrent.
+
+A great wind roared in his ears; his cap was gone. The car hurled
+itself forward through an endless tunnel of darkness lined with
+silver. Presently he began to slow down; the furious wind died away;
+the streaking darkness sped by less swiftly.
+
+"Have you gone mad?" she cried in his ear. "You'll kill us both!"
+
+"Wait," he shouted back; "I'll show you and your friends behind us
+what speed really is."
+
+The car was still slowing down as they passed over a wooden bridge
+where a narrow road, partly washed out, turned to the left and ran
+along a hillside. Into this he steered.
+
+"Who is it chasing us?" he asked curiously, still incredulous that any
+embassy whatever was involved in this amazing affair.
+
+"Friends."
+
+"More Turks?"
+
+She did not reply.
+
+He sat still, listening for a few moments, then hastily started his
+car down the hill.
+
+"Now," he said, "I'll show you what this car of mine really can do!
+Are you afraid?"
+
+She said between her teeth:
+
+"I'd be a fool if I were not. All I pray for is that you'll kill
+yourself, too."
+
+"We'll chance it together, my murderous little friend."
+
+The wind began to roar again as they rushed downward over a hill that
+seemed endless. She clung to her seat and he hung to his wheel like
+grim death; and, for one terrible instant, she almost lost
+consciousness.
+
+Then the terrific pace slackened; the car, running swiftly, was now
+speeding over a macadam road; and Neeland laughed and cried in her
+ear:
+
+"Better light another of your hell's own cigarettes if you want your
+friends to follow us!"
+
+Slowing, he drove with one hand on the wheel.
+
+"Look up there!" he said, pointing high at a dark hillside. "See their
+lights? They're on the worst road in the Gayfield hills. We cut off
+three miles this way."
+
+Still driving with one hand, he looked at his watch, laughed
+contentedly, and turned to her with the sudden and almost friendly
+toleration born of success and a danger shared in common.
+
+"That was rather a reckless bit of driving," he admitted. "Were you
+frightened?"
+
+"Ask yourself how you'd feel with a fool at the wheel."
+
+"We're all fools at times," he retorted, laughing. "You were when you
+shot at me. Suppose I'd been seized with panic. I might have turned
+loose on you, too."
+
+For a while she remained silent, then she looked at him curiously:
+
+"Were you armed?"
+
+"I carry an automatic pistol in my portfolio pocket."
+
+She shrugged.
+
+"You were a fool to come into that house without carrying it in your
+hand."
+
+"Where would you be now if I had done that?"
+
+"Dead, I suppose," she said carelessly.... "What _are_ you going to do
+with me?"
+
+He was in excellent humour with himself; exhilaration and excitement
+still possessed him, keyed him up.
+
+"Fancy," he said, "a foreign embassy being mixed up in a plain case of
+grand larceny!--robbing with attempt to murder! My dear but
+bloodthirsty young lady, I can hardly comprehend it."
+
+She remained silent, looking straight in front of her.
+
+"You know," he said, "I'm rather glad you're not a common thief.
+You've lots of pluck--plenty. You're as clever as a cobra. It isn't
+every poisonous snake that is clever," he added, laughing.
+
+"What do you intend to do with me?" she repeated coolly.
+
+"I don't know. You are certainly an interesting companion. Maybe I'll
+take you to New York with me. You see I'm beginning to like you."
+
+She was silent.
+
+He said:
+
+"I never before met a real spy. I scarcely believed they existed in
+time of peace, except in novels. Really, I never imagined there were
+any spies working for embassies, except in Europe. You are, to me,
+such a rare specimen," he added gaily, "that I rather dread parting
+with you. Won't you come to Paris with me?"
+
+"Does what you say amuse you?"
+
+"What _you_ say does. Yes, I think I'll take you to New York, anyway.
+And as we journey toward that great metropolis together you shall tell
+me all about your delightful profession. You shall be a Scheherazade
+to me! Is it a bargain?"
+
+She said in a pleasant, even voice:
+
+"I might as well tell you now that what you've been stupid enough to
+do tonight is going to cost you your life."
+
+"What!" he exclaimed laughingly. "More murder? Oh, Scheherazade! Shame
+on your naughty, naughty behaviour!"
+
+"Do you expect to reach Paris with those papers?"
+
+"I do, fair houri! I do, Rose of Stamboul!"
+
+"You never will."
+
+"No?"
+
+"No." She sat staring ahead of her for a few moments, then turned on
+him with restrained impatience:
+
+"Listen to me, now! I don't know who you are. If you're employed by
+any government you are a novice----"
+
+"Or an artist!"
+
+"Or a consummate artist," she admitted, looking at him uncertainly.
+
+"I _am_ an artist," he said.
+
+"You have an excellent opinion of yourself."
+
+"No. I'm telling you the truth. My name is Neeland--James Neeland. I
+draw little pictures for a living--nice little pictures for newspapers
+and magazines."
+
+His frankness evidently perplexed her.
+
+"If that is so," she said, "what interests you in the papers you took
+from me?"
+
+"Nothing at all, my dear young lady! _I'm_ not interested in them. But
+friends of mine are."
+
+"Who?"
+
+He merely laughed at her.
+
+"_Are_ you an agent for any government?"
+
+"Not that I know of."
+
+She said very quietly:
+
+"You make a terrible mistake to involve yourself in this affair. If
+you are not paid to do it--if you are not interested from patriotic
+motives--you had better keep aloof."
+
+"But it's too late. I _am_ mixed up in it--whatever it may mean. Why
+not tell me, Scheherazade?"
+
+His humorous badinage seemed only to make her more serious.
+
+"Mr. Neeland," she said quietly, "if you really are what you say you
+are, it is a dangerous and silly thing that you have done tonight."
+
+"Don't say that! Don't consider it so tragically. I'm enjoying it all
+immensely."
+
+"Do you consider it a comedy when a woman tries to kill you?"
+
+"Maybe you are fond of murder, gentle lady."
+
+"Your sense of humour seems a trifle perverted. I am more serious than
+I ever was in my life. And I tell you very solemnly that you'll be
+killed if you try to take those papers to Paris. Listen!"--she laid
+one hand lightly on his arm--"Why should you involve yourself--you, an
+American? This matter is no concern of yours----"
+
+"What matter?"
+
+"The matter concerning those papers. I tell you it does not concern
+you; it is none of your business. Let me be frank with you: the papers
+are of importance to a foreign government--to the German Government.
+And in no way do they threaten your people or your country's welfare.
+Why, then, do you interfere? Why do you use violence toward an agent
+of a foreign and friendly government?"
+
+"Why does a foreign and friendly government employ spies in a friendly
+country?"
+
+"All governments do."
+
+"Is that so?"
+
+"It is. America swarms with British and French agents."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"It's my business to know, Mr. Neeland."
+
+"Then that _is_ your profession! You really are a spy?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you pursue this ennobling profession with an enthusiasm which
+does not stop short of murder!"
+
+"I had no choice."
+
+"Hadn't you? Your business seems to be rather a deadly one, doesn't
+it, Scheherazade?"
+
+"Yes, it might become so.... Mr. Neeland, I have no personal feeling
+of anger for you. You offered me violence; you behaved brutally,
+indecently. But I want you to understand that no petty personal
+feeling incites me. The wrong you have done me is nothing; the injury
+you threaten to do my country is very grave. I ask you to believe that
+I speak the truth. It is in the service of my country that I have
+acted. Nothing matters to me except my country's welfare. Individuals
+are nothing; the Fatherland everything.... Will you give me back my
+papers?"
+
+"No. I shall return them to their owner."
+
+"Is that final?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"I am sorry," she said.
+
+A moment later the lights of Orangeville came into distant view across
+the dark and rolling country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+SCHEHERAZADE
+
+
+At the Orangeville garage Neeland stopped his car, put on his straw
+hat, got out carrying suitcase and box, entered the office, and turned
+over the care of the machine to an employee with orders to drive it
+back to Neeland's Mills the next morning.
+
+Then he leisurely returned to his prisoner who had given him her name
+as Ilse Dumont and who was standing on the sidewalk beside the car.
+
+"Well, Scheherazade," he said, smiling, "teller of marvellous tales, I
+don't quite believe your stories, but they were extremely
+entertaining. So I won't bowstring you or cut off your unusually
+attractive head! No! On the contrary, I thank you for your
+wonder-tales, and for not murdering me. And, furthermore, I bestow
+upon you your liberty. Have you sufficient cash to take you where you
+desire to waft yourself?"
+
+All the time her dark, unsmiling eyes remained fixed on him, calmly
+unresponsive to his badinage.
+
+"I'm sorry I had to be rough with you, Scheherazade," he continued,
+"but when a young lady sews her clothes full of papers which don't
+belong to her, what, I ask you, is a modest young man to do?"
+
+She said nothing.
+
+"It becomes necessary for that modest young man to can his
+modesty--and the young lady's. Is there anything else he could do?" he
+repeated gaily.
+
+"He had better return those papers," she replied in a low voice.
+
+"I'm sorry, Scheherazade, but it isn't done in ultra-crooked circles.
+Are you sure you have enough money to go where destiny and booty call
+you?"
+
+"I have what I require," she answered dryly.
+
+"Then good-bye, Pearl of the Harem! Without rancour, I offer you the
+hand that reluctantly chastened you."
+
+They remained facing each other in silence for a moment; his
+expression was mischievously amused; hers inscrutable. Then, as he
+patiently and good-humouredly continued to offer her his hand, very
+slowly she laid her own in it, still looking him directly in the
+eyes.
+
+"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice.
+
+"For what? For not shooting me?"
+
+"I'm sorry for _you_, Mr. Neeland.... You're only a boy, after all.
+You know nothing. And you refuse to learn.... I'm sorry....
+Good-bye."
+
+"Could I take you anywhere? To the Hotel Orange? I've time. The
+station is across the street."
+
+"No," she said.
+
+She walked leisurely along the poorly lighted street and turned the
+first corner as though at hazard. The next moment her trim and
+graceful figure had disappeared.
+
+With his heart still gay from the night's excitement, and the drop of
+Irish blood in him lively as champagne, he crossed the square briskly,
+entered the stuffy station, bought a ticket, and went out to the
+wooden platform beside the rails.
+
+Placing box and suitcase side by side, he seated himself upon them and
+lighted a cigarette.
+
+Here was an adventure! Whether or not he understood it, here
+certainly was a real, story-book adventure at last. And he began to
+entertain a little more respect for those writers of romance who have
+so persistently attempted to convince an incredulous world that
+adventures are to be had anywhere and at any time for the mere effort
+entailed in seeking them.
+
+In his case, however, he had not sought adventure. It had been thrust
+upon him by cable.
+
+And now the drop of Irish in him gratefully responded. He was much
+obliged to Fate for his evening's entertainment; he modestly ventured
+to hope for favours to come. And, considering the coolly veiled
+threats of this young woman whom he had treated with scant ceremony,
+he had some reason to expect a sequel to the night's adventure.
+
+"She," he thought to himself, "had nothing on Godiva--except a piano
+cover!"
+
+Recollection of the absurd situation incited his reprehensible
+merriment to the point of unrestrained laughter; and he clasped his
+knees and rocked to and fro, where he sat on his suitcase, all alone
+under the stars.
+
+The midnight express was usually from five to forty minutes late at
+Orangeville; but from there east it made up time on the down grade to
+Albany.
+
+And now, as he sat watching, far away along the riverside a star came
+gliding into view around an unseen curve--the headlight of a distant
+locomotive.
+
+A few moments later he was in his drawing-room, seated on the edge of
+the couch, his door locked, the shade over the window looking on the
+corridor drawn down as far as it would go; and the train rushing
+through the starry night on the down grade toward Albany.
+
+He could not screen the corridor window entirely; the shade seemed to
+be too short; but it was late, the corridor dark, all the curtains in
+the car closed tightly over the berths, and his privacy was not likely
+to be disturbed. And when the conductor had taken both tickets and the
+porter had brought him a bottle of mineral water and gone away, he
+settled down with great content.
+
+Neeland was in excellent humour. He had not the slightest inclination
+to sleep. He sat on the side of his bed, smoking, the olive-wood box
+lying open beside him, and its curious contents revealed.
+
+But now, as he carefully examined the papers, photographs, and
+drawings, he began to take the affair a little more seriously. And the
+possibility of further trouble raised his already high spirits and
+caused that little drop of Irish blood to sing agreeably in his
+veins.
+
+Dipping into Herr Wilner's diary added a fillip to the increasing
+fascination that was possessing him.
+
+"Well, I'm damned," he thought, "if it doesn't really look as though
+the plans of these Turkish forts might be important! I'm not very much
+astonished that the Kaiser and the Sultan desire to keep for
+themselves the secrets of these fortifications. They really belong to
+them, too. They were drawn and planned by a German." He shrugged. "A
+rotten alliance!" he muttered, and picked up the bronze Chinese figure
+to examine it.
+
+"So you're the Yellow Devil I've heard about!" he said. "Well, you
+certainly are a pippin!"
+
+Inspecting him with careless curiosity, he turned the bronze over and
+over between his hands, noticing a slight rattling sound that seemed
+to come from within but discovering no reason for it. And, as he
+curiously considered the scowling demon, he hummed an old song of his
+father's under his breath:
+
+ "Wan balmy day in May
+ Th' ould Nick come to the dure;
+ Sez I 'The divil's to pay,
+ An' the debt comes harrd on the poor!'
+ His eyes they shone like fire
+ An' he gave a horrid groan;
+ Sez I to me sister Suke,
+ 'Suke!!!!
+ Tell him I ain't at home!'
+
+ "He stood forninst the dure,
+ His wings were wings of a bat,
+ An' he raised his voice to a roar,
+ An' the tail of him switched like a cat,
+ 'O wirra the day!' sez I,
+ 'Ochone I'll no more roam!'
+ Sez I to me brother Luke,
+ 'Luke!!!!
+ Tell him I ain't at home!'"
+
+As he laid the bronze figure away and closed, locked and strapped the
+olive-wood box, an odd sensation crept over him as though somebody
+were overlooking what he was doing. Of course it could not be true,
+but so sudden and so vivid was the impression that he rose, opened the
+door, and glanced into the private washroom--even poked under the bed
+and the opposite sofa; and of course discovered that only a living
+skeleton could lie concealed in such spaces.
+
+His courage, except moral courage, had never been particularly tested.
+He was naturally quite fearless, even carelessly so, and whether it
+was the courage of ignorance or a constitutional inability to be
+afraid never bothered his mind because he never thought about it.
+
+Now, amused at his unusual fit of caution, he stretched himself out on
+his bed, still dressed, debating in his mind whether he should undress
+and try to sleep, or whether it were really worth while before he
+boarded the steamer.
+
+And, as he lay there, a cigarette between his lips, wakeful, his
+restless gaze wandering, he suddenly caught a glimpse of something
+moving--a human face pressed to the dark glass of the corridor window
+between the partly lowered shade and the cherry-wood sill.
+
+So amazed was he that the face had disappeared before he realised that
+it resembled the face of Ilse Dumont. The next instant he was on his
+feet and opening the door of the drawing-room; but the corridor
+between the curtained berths was empty and dark and still; not a
+curtain fluttered.
+
+He did not care to leave his doorway, either, with the box lying there
+on his bed; he stood with one hand on the knob, listening, peering
+into the dusk, still excited by the surprise of seeing her on the same
+train that he had taken.
+
+However, on reflection, he quite understood that she could have had no
+difficulty in boarding the midnight train for New York without being
+noticed by him; because he was not expecting her to do such a thing
+and he had paid no attention to the group of passengers emerging from
+the waiting room when the express rolled in.
+
+"This is rather funny," he thought. "I wish I could find her. I wish
+she'd be friendly enough to pay me a visit. Scheherazade is certainly
+an entertaining girl. And it's several hours to New York."
+
+He lingered a while longer, but seeing and hearing nothing except
+darkness and assorted snores, he stepped into his stateroom and locked
+the door again.
+
+Sleep was now impossible; the idea of Scheherazade prowling in the
+dark corridor outside amused him intensely, and aroused every atom of
+his curiosity. Did the girl really expect an opportunity to steal the
+box? Or was she keeping a sinister eye on him with a view to summoning
+accomplices from vasty metropolitan deeps as soon as the train
+arrived? Or, having failed at Brookhollow, was she merely going back
+to town to report "progress backward"?
+
+He finished his mineral water, and, still feeling thirsty, rang, on
+the chance that the porter might still be awake and obliging.
+
+Something about the entire affair was beginning to strike him as
+intensely funny, and the idea of foreign spies slinking about
+Brookhollow; the seriousness with which this young girl took herself
+and her mission; her amateur attempts at murder; her solemn mention of
+the Turkish Embassy--all these excited his sense of the humorous. And
+again incredulity crept in; and presently he found himself humming
+Irwin's immortal Kaiser refrain:
+
+ "Hi-lee! Hi-lo!
+ Der vinds dey blow
+ Joost like die wacht am Rhine!
+ Und vot iss mine belongs to me,
+ Und vot iss yours iss mine!"
+
+There came a knock at his door; he rose and opened it, supposing it to
+be the porter; and was seized in the powerful grasp of two men and
+jerked into the dark corridor.
+
+One of them had closed his mouth with a gloved hand, crushing him
+with an iron grip around the neck; the other caught his legs and
+lifted him bodily; and, as they slung him between them, his startled
+eyes caught sight of Ilse Dumont entering his drawing-room.
+
+It was a silent, fierce struggle through the corridor to the front
+platform of the vestibule train; it took both men to hold, overpower,
+and completely master him; but they tried to do this and, at the same
+time, lift the trap that discloses the car steps. And could not manage
+it.
+
+The instant Neeland realised what they were trying to do, he divined
+their shocking intention in regard to himself, and the struggle became
+terrible there in the swaying vestibule. Twice he nearly got at the
+automatic pistol in his breast pocket, but could not quite grasp it.
+They slammed him and thrashed him around between them, apparently
+determined to open the trap, fling him from the train, and let him
+take his chances with the wheels.
+
+Then, of a sudden, came a change in the fortunes of war; they were
+trying to drag him over the chain sagging between the forward mail-car
+and the Pullman, when one of them caught his foot on it and stumbled
+backward, releasing Neeland's right arm. In the same instant he drove
+his fist into the face of his other assailant so hard that the man's
+head jerked backward as though his neck were broken, and he fell flat
+on his back.
+
+Already the train was slowing down for the single stop between Albany
+and New York--Hudson. Neeland got out his pistol and pointed it
+shakily at the man who had fallen backward over the chain.
+
+"Jump!" he panted. "Jump quick!"
+
+The man needed no other warning; he opened the trap, scrambled and
+wriggled down the mail-car steps, and was off the train like a snake
+from a sack.
+
+The other man, bloody and ghastly white, crept under the chain after
+his companion. He was a well-built, good-looking man of forty, with
+blue eyes and a golden beard all over blood. He seemed sick from the
+terrific blow dealt him; but as the train had almost stopped, Neeland
+pushed him off with the flat of his foot.
+
+Drenched in perspiration, dishevelled, bruised, he slammed both traps
+and ran back into the dark corridor, and met Ilse Dumont coming out of
+his stateroom carrying the olive-wood box.
+
+His appearance appeared to stupefy her; he took the box from her
+without resistance, and, pushing her back into the stateroom, locked
+the door.
+
+Then, still savagely excited, and the hot blood of battle still
+seething in his veins, he stood staring wickedly into her dazed eyes,
+the automatic pistol hanging from his right fist.
+
+But after a few moments something in her naive astonishment--her
+amazement to see him alive and standing there before her--appealed to
+him as intensely ludicrous; he dropped on the edge of the bed and
+burst into laughter uncontrolled.
+
+"Scheherazade! Oh, Scheherazade!" he said, weak with laughter, "if you
+could only see your face! If you could only _see_ it, my dear child!
+It's too funny to be true! It's too funny to be a real face! Oh, dear,
+I'll die if I laugh any more. You'll assassinate me with your face!"
+
+She seated herself on the lounge opposite, still gazing blankly at him
+in his uncontrollable mirth.
+
+After a while he put back the automatic into his breast pocket, took
+off coat and waistcoat, without paying the slightest heed to her or to
+convention; opened his own suitcase, selected a fresh shirt, tie, and
+collar, and, taking with him his coat and the olive-wood box, went
+into the little washroom.
+
+He scarcely expected to find her there when he emerged, cooled and
+refreshed; but she was still there, seated as he had left her on the
+lounge.
+
+"I wanted to ask you," she said in a low voice, "did you _kill_
+them?"
+
+"Not at all, Scheherazade," he replied gaily. "The Irish don't kill;
+they beat up their friends; that's all. Fist and blackthorn, my pretty
+lass, but nix for the knife and gun."
+
+"How--did you do it?"
+
+"Well, I got tired having a ham-fisted Dutchman pawing me and closing
+my mouth with his big splay fingers. So I asked him to slide overboard
+and shoved his friend after him."
+
+"Did you shoot them?"
+
+"No, I tell you!" he said disgustedly. "I hadn't a chance in hot
+blood, and I couldn't do it in cold. No, Scheherazade, I didn't shoot.
+I pulled a gun for dramatic effect, that's all."
+
+After a silence she asked him in a low voice what he intended to do
+with her.
+
+"Do? Nothing! Chat affably with you until we reach town, if you don't
+mind. Nothing more violent than that, Scheherazade."
+
+The girl, sitting sideways on the sofa, leaned her head against the
+velvet corner as though very tired. Her small hands lay in her lap
+listlessly, palms up-turned.
+
+"Are you really tired?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, a little."
+
+He took the two pillows from his bed and placed them on the sofa.
+
+"You may lie down if you like, Scheherazade."
+
+"Won't you need them?"
+
+"Sunburst of my soul, if I pillow my head on anything while you are in
+the vicinity, it will be on that olive-wood box!"
+
+For the first time the faintest trace of a smile touched her lips. She
+turned, settled the pillows to her liking, and stretched out her
+supple figure on the sofa with a slight sigh.
+
+"Shall I talk to you, Scheherazade, or let you snuggle into the chaste
+arms of Morpheus?"
+
+"I can't sleep."
+
+"Is it a talk-fest, then?"
+
+"I am listening."
+
+"Then, were the two recent gentlemen who so rudely pounced upon me the
+same gentlemen who so cheerfully chased me in an automobile when you
+made red fire?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I was betting on it. Nice-looking man--the one with the classical map
+and the golden Frick."
+
+She said nothing.
+
+"Scheherazade," he continued with smiling malice, "do you realise that
+you are both ornamental and young? Why so young and murderous, fair
+houri? Why delight in manslaughter in any degree? Why cultivate
+assault and battery? Why swipe the property of others?"
+
+She closed her eyes on the pillow, but, as he remained silent,
+presently opened them again.
+
+"I asked them not to hurt you," she said irrelevantly.
+
+"Who? Oh, your strenuous friends with the footpad technique? Well,
+they obeyed you unwillingly."
+
+"Did they hurt you?"
+
+"Oh, no. But the car-wheels might have."
+
+"The car-wheels?"
+
+"Yes. They were all for dumping me down the steps of the vestibule.
+But I've got a nasty disposition, Scheherazade, and I kicked and bit
+and screamed so lustily that I disgusted them and they simply left the
+train and concluded to cut my acquaintance."
+
+It was evident that his good-humoured mockery perplexed her. Once or
+twice the shadow of a smile passed over her dark eyes, but they
+remained uncertain and watchful.
+
+"You really were astonished to see me alive again, weren't you?" he
+asked.
+
+"I was surprised to see you, of course."
+
+"Alive?"
+
+"I told you that I asked them not to really hurt you."
+
+"Do you suppose I believe _that_, after your pistol practice on me?"
+
+"It is true," she replied, her eyes resting on him.
+
+"You wished to reserve me for more pistol practice?"
+
+"I have no--enmity--for you."
+
+"Oh, Scheherazade!" he protested, laughing.
+
+"You are wrong, Mr. Neeland."
+
+"After all I did to you?"
+
+To his surprise a bright blush spread over her face where it lay
+framed by the pillows; she turned her head abruptly and lay without
+speaking.
+
+He sat thinking for a few minutes, then leaning forward from where he
+sat on the bed's edge:
+
+"After a man's been shot at and further intimidated with a large,
+unpleasantly rusty Kurdish dagger, he is likely to proceed without
+ceremony. All the same, I am sorry I had to humiliate you,
+Scheherazade."
+
+She lay silent, unstirring.
+
+"A girl would never forgive that, I know," he said. "So I shall look
+for a short shrift from you if your opportunity ever comes."
+
+The girl appeared to be asleep. He stood up and looked down at her.
+The colour had faded from the one cheek visible. For a while he
+listened to her quiet breathing, then, the imp of perversity seizing
+him, and intensely diverted by the situation, he bent over her,
+touched her cheek with his lips, put on his hat, took box and
+suitcase, and went out to spend the remaining hour or two in the
+smoking room, leaving her to sleep in peace.
+
+But no sooner had he closed the door on her than the girl sat straight
+up on the sofa, her face surging in colour, and her eyes brilliant
+with starting tears.
+
+When the train arrived at the Grand Central Station, in the grey of a
+July morning, Neeland, finding the stateroom empty, lingered to watch
+for her among the departing passengers.
+
+But he lingered in vain; and presently a taxicab took him and his box
+to the Cunard docks, and deposited him there. And an hour later he was
+in his cabin on board that vast ensemble of machinery and luxury, the
+Cunarder _Volhynia_, outward bound, and headed straight at the
+dazzling disc of the rising sun.
+
+And thought of Scheherazade faded from his mind as a tale that is
+told.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+A WHITE SKIRT
+
+
+It was in mid-ocean that Neeland finally came to the conclusion that
+nobody on board the _Volhynia_ was likely to bother him or his box.
+
+The July weather had been magnificent--blue skies, a gentle wind, and
+a sea scarcely silvered by a comber.
+
+Assorted denizens of the Atlantic took part in the traditional
+vaudeville performance for the benefit of the _Volhynia_ passengers;
+gulls followed the wake to mid-ocean; Mother Carey's chickens skimmed
+the baby billows; dolphins turned watery flip-flaps under the bows;
+and even a distant whale consented to oblige.
+
+Everybody pervaded the decks morning, noon, and evening; the most
+squeamish recovered confidence in twenty-four hours; and every
+constitutional lubber concluded he was a born sailor.
+
+Neeland really was one; no nausea born from the bad adjustment of that
+anatomical auricular gyroscope recently discovered in man ever
+disturbed his abdominal nerves. Short of shipwreck, he enjoyed any
+entertainment the Atlantic offered him.
+
+So he was always on deck, tranquilly happy and with nothing in the
+world to disturb him except his responsibility for the olive-wood
+box.
+
+He dared not leave it in his locked cabin; he dared not entrust it to
+anybody; he lugged it about with him wherever he went. On deck it
+stood beside his steamer chair; it dangled from his hand when he
+promenaded, exciting the amazement and curiosity of others; it
+reposed on the floor under the table and beneath his attentive feet
+when he was at meals.
+
+These elaborate precautions indicated his wholesome respect for the
+persistence of Scheherazade and her friends; he was forever scanning
+his fellow-voyagers at table, in the smoking room, and as they
+strolled to and fro in front of his steamer chair, trying to make up
+his mind concerning them.
+
+But Neeland, a clever observer of externals, was no reader of
+character. The passenger list never seemed to confirm any conclusions
+he arrived at concerning any of the passengers on the _Volhynia_. A
+gentleman he mistook for an overfed broker turned out to be a popular
+clergyman with outdoor proclivities; a slim, poetic-looking youth who
+carried a copy of "Words and Wind" about the deck travelled for the
+Gold Leaf Lard Company.
+
+Taking them all in all, Neeland concluded that they were as harmless a
+collection of _reconcentrados_ as he had ever observed; and he was
+strongly tempted to leave the box in his locked stateroom.
+
+He decided to do so one afternoon after luncheon, and, lugging his
+box, started to return to his stateroom with that intention, instead
+of going on deck, as usual, for a postprandial cigarette.
+
+There was nobody in the main corridor as he passed, but in the short,
+carpeted passage leading to his stateroom he caught a glimpse of a
+white serge skirt vanishing into the stateroom opposite to his, and
+heard the door close and the noise of a key turned quickly.
+
+His steward, being questioned on the first day out, had told him that
+this stateroom was occupied by an invalid gentleman travelling alone,
+who preferred to remain there instead of trusting to his crutches on
+a temperamental deck.
+
+Neeland, passing the closed and curtained door, wondered whether the
+invalid had made a hit, or whether he had a relative aboard who wore a
+white serge skirt, white stockings and shoes, and was further endowed
+with agreeable ankles.
+
+He fitted his key to his door, turned it, withdrew the key to pocket
+it; and immediately became aware that the end of the key was sticky.
+
+He entered the stateroom, however, and bolted the door, then he sat
+down on his sofa and examined his fingers and his door key
+attentively. There was wax sticking to both.
+
+When he had fully digested this fact he wiped and pocketed his key and
+cast a rather vacant look around the little stateroom. And immediately
+his eye was arrested by a white object lying on the carpet between the
+bed and the sofa--a woman's handkerchief, without crest or initials,
+but faintly scented.
+
+After he became tired of alternately examining it and sniffing it, he
+put it in his pocket and began an uneasy tour of his room.
+
+If it had been entered and ransacked, everything had been replaced
+exactly as he had left it, as well as he could remember. Nothing
+excepting this handkerchief and the wax on the key indicated
+intrusion; nothing, apparently, had been disturbed; and yet there was
+the handkerchief; and there was the wax on the end of his door key.
+
+"Here's a fine business!" he muttered to himself; and rang for his
+steward.
+
+The man came--a cockney, dense as his native fog--who maintained that
+nobody could have entered the stateroom without his knowledge or the
+knowledge of the stewardess.
+
+"Do you think _she's_ been in my cabin?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Call her."
+
+The stewardess, an alert, intelligent little woman with a trace of
+West Indian blood in her, denied entering his stateroom. Shown the
+handkerchief and invited to sniff it, she professed utter ignorance
+concerning it, assured him that no lady in her section used that
+perfume, and offered to show it to the stewardesses of other sections
+on the chance of their identifying the perfume or the handkerchief.
+
+"All right," said Neeland; "take it. But bring it back. And here's a
+sovereign. And--one thing more. If anybody pays you to deceive me,
+come to me and I'll outbid them. Is that a bargain?"
+
+"Yes, sir," she said unblushingly.
+
+When she had gone away with the handkerchief, Neeland closed the door
+again and said to the steward:
+
+"Keep an eye on my door. I am positive that somebody has taken a wax
+impression of the keyhole. What I said to that stewardess also holds
+good with you. I'll outbid anybody who bribes you."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+"Sure it's good! It's devilish good. Here's a beautiful and newly
+minted gold sovereign. Isn't it artistic? It's yours, steward."
+
+"Thanky, sir."
+
+"Not at all. And, by the way, what's that invalid gentleman's name?"
+
+"'Awks, sir."
+
+"Hawks?"
+
+"Yes, sir; Mr. 'Erbert 'Awks."
+
+"American?"
+
+"I don't know, sir."
+
+"British?"
+
+"Shall I inquire, sir?" starting to go.
+
+"Not of _him_! Don't be a lunatic, steward! Please try to understand
+that I want nothing said about this matter or about my inquiries."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Very well, then! Find out, if you can, who Mr. Herbert Hawks is. Find
+out all you can concerning him. It's easy money, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir----"
+
+"Wait a moment. Has he any friends or relatives on board?"
+
+"Not that I know, sir."
+
+"Oh, no friends, eh? No ladies who wear white serge skirts and white
+shoes and stockings?"
+
+"No, sir, not as I knows of."
+
+"Oh! Suppose you step across to his door, knock, and ask him if he
+rang. And, if the door is opened, take a quick slant at the room."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+Neeland, his door at the crack, watched the steward cross the corridor
+and knock at the door of Mr. Herbert Hawks.
+
+"Well, what iss it?" came a heavy voice from within.
+
+"Mr. 'Awks, sir, did you ring?"
+
+"No, I did not."
+
+"Oh, beg pardon, sir----"
+
+The steward was starting to return to Neeland, but that young man
+motioned him violently away from his door and closed it. Then,
+listening, his ear against the panel, he presently heard a door in the
+passage creak open a little way, then close again, stealthily.
+
+He possessed his soul in patience, believing that Mr. Hawks or his
+fair friend in the white skirt had merely taken a preliminary survey
+of the passage and perhaps also of his closed door. But the vigil was
+vain; the door did not reopen; no sound came from the stateroom across
+the passageway.
+
+To make certain that the owner of the white shoes and stockings did
+not leave that stateroom without his knowledge, he opened his door
+with many precautions and left it on the crack, stretching a rubber
+band from knob to bolt, so that the wind from the open port in the
+passage should not blow it shut. Then, drawing his curtain, he sat
+down to wait.
+
+He had a book, one of those slobbering American novels which serve up
+falsehood thickly buttered with righteousness and are consumed by the
+morally sterilised.
+
+And, as he smoked he read; and, as he read he listened. One eye always
+remained on duty; one ear was alert; he meant to see who was the owner
+of the white shoes if it took the remainder of the voyage to find
+out.
+
+The book aided him as a commonplace accompaniment aids a
+soloist--alternately boring and exasperating him.
+
+It was an "uplift" book, where the heroine receives whacks with
+patient smiles. Fate boots her from pillar to post and she blesses
+Fate and is much obliged. That most deadly reproach to degenerate
+human nature--the accidental fact of sex--had been so skilfully
+extirpated from those pages that, like chaste amoebae, the characters
+merely multiplied by immaculate subdivision; and millions of lineal
+descendants of the American Dodo were made gleeful for $1.50 net.
+
+It was hard work waiting, harder work reading, but between the two and
+a cigarette now and then Neeland managed to do his sentry go until
+dinner time approached and the corridors resounded with the trample of
+the hungry.
+
+The stewardess reappeared a little later and returned to him his
+handkerchief and the following information:
+
+Mr. Hawks, it appeared, travelled with a trained nurse, whose
+stateroom was on another deck. That nurse was not in her stateroom,
+but a similar handkerchief was, scented with similar perfume.
+
+"You're a wonder," said Neeland, placing some more sovereigns in her
+palm and closing her fingers over them. "What is the nurse's name?"
+
+"Miss White."
+
+"Very suitable name. Has she ever before visited Herr--I mean
+_Mr._--Hawks in his stateroom?"
+
+"Her stewardess says she has been indisposed since we left New York."
+
+"Hasn't been out of her cabin?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I see. Did you inquire what she looked like?"
+
+"Her stewardess couldn't be certain. The stateroom was kept dark and
+the tray containing her meals was left at the bedside. Miss White
+smokes."
+
+"Yes," said Neeland reflectively, "she smokes Red Light cigarettes, I
+believe. Thank you, very much. More sovereigns if you are discreet.
+And say to my steward that I'll dine in my stateroom. Soup, fish,
+meat, any old thing you can think of. Do you understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir."
+
+When she had withdrawn he kneeled down on his sofa and looked out
+through the port at the sunset sea.
+
+There was a possibility that Scheherazade and her friends might be on
+board the _Volhynia_. Who else would be likely to take wax impressions
+of his keyhole and leave a scented scrap of a handkerchief on his
+stateroom floor?
+
+That they had kept themselves not only out of sight but off the
+passenger list merely corroborated suspicion. That's what they'd be
+likely to do.
+
+And now there was no question in his mind of leaving the box in his
+cabin. He'd cling to it like a good woman to alimony. Death alone
+could separate his box from him.
+
+As he knelt there, sniffing the salt perfume of the sea, his ears on
+duty detected the sound of a tray in the corridor.
+
+"Leave it on the camp-table outside my door!" he said over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+He was not hungry; he was thinking too hard.
+
+"Confound it," he thought to himself, "am I to squat here in ambush
+for the rest of the trip?"
+
+The prospect was not agreeable for a man who loved the sea. All day
+and most of the starry night the hurricane deck called to him, and his
+whole anatomy responded. And now to sit hunched up here like a rat in
+the hold was not to his taste. Suppose he should continue to frequent
+the deck, carrying with him his box, of course. He might never
+discover who owned the white serge skirt or who owned the voice which
+pronounced is as "iss."
+
+Meanwhile, it occurred to him that for a quarter of an hour or more
+his dinner outside his door had been growing colder and colder. So he
+slid from the sofa, unstrapped the rubber band, opened the door,
+lifted table and tray into his stateroom with a sharp glance at the
+opposite door, and, readjusting the rubber band, composed himself to
+eat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+BY RADIO
+
+
+Perhaps it was because he did not feel particularly hungry that his
+dinner appeared unappetising; possibly because it had been standing in
+the corridor outside his door for twenty minutes, which did not add to
+its desirability.
+
+The sun had set and the air in the room had grown cold. He felt
+chilly; and, when he uncovered the silver tureen and discovered that
+the soup was still piping hot, he drank some of it to warm himself.
+
+He had swallowed about half a cupful before he discovered that the
+seasoning was not agreeable to his palate. In fact, the flavour of the
+hot broth was so decidedly unpleasant that he pushed aside the cup and
+sat down on the edge of his bunk without any further desire to eat
+anything.
+
+A glass of water from the carafe did not seem to rid him of the
+subtle, disagreeable taste lingering in his mouth--in fact, the water
+itself seemed to be tainted with it.
+
+He sat for a few moments fumbling for his cigarette case, feeling
+curiously uncomfortable, as though the slight motion of the ship were
+affecting his head.
+
+As he sat there looking at the unlighted cigarette in his hand, it
+fell to the carpet at his feet. He started to stoop for it, caught
+himself in time, pulled himself erect with an effort.
+
+Something was wrong with him--very wrong. Every uneven breath he drew
+seemed to fill his lungs with the odour of that strange and volatile
+flavour he had noticed. It was beginning to make him giddy; it seemed
+to affect his vision, too.
+
+Suddenly a terrible comprehension flashed through his confused mind,
+clearing it for a moment.
+
+He tried to stand up and reach the electric bell; his knees seem
+incapable of sustaining him. Sliding to the floor, he attempted to
+crawl toward the olive-wood box; managed to get one arm around it,
+grip the handle. Then, with a last desperate effort, he groped in his
+breast pocket for the automatic pistol, freed it, tried to fire it.
+But the weapon and the unnerved hand that held it fell on the carpet.
+A muscular paralysis set in like the terrible rigidity of death; he
+could still see and hear as in a thickening dream.
+
+A moment later, from the corridor, a slim hand was inserted between
+the door and jamb; the supple fingers became busy with the rubber band
+for a moment, released it. The door opened very slowly.
+
+For a few seconds two dark eyes were visible between door and curtain,
+regarding intently the figure lying prone upon the floor. Then the
+curtain was twitched noiselessly aside; a young woman in the garb of a
+trained nurse stepped swiftly into the stateroom on tip-toe, followed
+by a big, good-looking, blue-eyed man wearing a square golden beard.
+
+The man, who carried with him a pair of crutches, but who did not
+appear to require their aid, hastily set the dinner-tray and
+camp-table outside in the corridor, then closed and bolted the door.
+
+Already the nurse was down on her knees beside the fallen man, trying
+to loosen his grasp on the box. Then her face blanched.
+
+"It's like the rigor of death itself," she whispered fearfully over
+her shoulder. "Could I have given him enough to kill him?"
+
+"He took only half a cup and a swallow of water. No."
+
+"I can't get his hand free----"
+
+"Wait! I try!" He pulled a big, horn-handled clasp-knife from his
+pocket and deliberately opened the eight-inch blade.
+
+"What are you doing?" she whispered, seizing his wrist. "Don't do
+that!"
+
+The man with the golden beard hesitated, then shrugged, pocketed his
+knife, and seized Neeland's rigidly clenched hand.
+
+"You are right. It makes too much muss!" tugging savagely at the
+clenched and unconscious hand. "Sacreminton! What for a death-grip is
+this _Kerls_? If I cut his hand off so iss there blood and gossip
+right away already. No--too much muss. Wait! I try another way----"
+
+Neeland groaned.
+
+"Oh, don't! Don't!" faltered the girl. "You're breaking his
+wrist----"
+
+"Ugh!" grunted her companion; "I try; I can it not accomplish. See
+once if the box opens!"
+
+"It is locked."
+
+"Search this pig-dog for the key!"
+
+She began a hurried search of Neeland's clothing; presently discovered
+her own handkerchief; thrust it into her apron pocket, and continued
+rummaging while the bearded man turned his attention to the automatic
+pistol. This he finally succeeded in disengaging, and he laid it on
+the wash basin.
+
+"Here are his keys," whispered the nurse feverishly, holding them up
+against the dim circle of evening sky framed by the open port. "You
+had better light the stateroom; I can't see. Hurry! I think he is
+beginning to recover."
+
+When the bearded man had switched on the electric light he returned to
+kneel once more beside the inert body on the floor, and began to pull
+and haul and tug at the box and attempt to insert the key in the lock.
+But the stiffened clutch of the drugged man made it impossible either
+to release the box or get at the keyhole.
+
+"_Ach, was! Verfluechtete' schwein-hund----!_" He seized the rigid hand
+and, exerting all the strength of a brutally inflamed fury, fairly
+ripped loose the fingers.
+
+"_Also!_" he panted, seizing the stiffened body from the floor and
+lifting it. "Hold you him by the long and Yankee legs once, _und_ I
+push him out----"
+
+"Out of the port?"
+
+"_Gewiss!_ Otherwise he recovers to raise some hell!"
+
+"It is not necessary. How shall this man know?"
+
+"You left your handkerchief. He iss no fool. He makes a noise. No, it
+iss safer we push him overboard."
+
+"I'll take the papers to Karl, and then I can remain in my
+stateroom----"
+
+"_No!_ Lift his legs, I tell you! You want I hold him in my arms all
+day while you talk, talk, talk! You take his legs right away
+quick----!"
+
+He staggered a few paces forward with his unwieldy burden and, setting
+one knee on the sofa, attempted to force Neeland's head and shoulders
+through the open port. At the same moment a rapid knocking sounded
+outside the stateroom door.
+
+"Quick!" breathed the nurse. "Throw him on his bed!"
+
+The blue-eyed, golden-bearded man hesitated, then as the knocking
+sounded again, imperative, persistent, he staggered to the bed with
+his burden, laid it on the pillows, seized his crutches, rested on
+them, breathing heavily, and listening to the loud and rapid knocking
+outside the door.
+
+"We've got to open," she whispered. "Don't forget that we found him
+unconscious in the corridor!" And she slid the bolt noiselessly,
+opened the stateroom door, and stepped outside the curtain into the
+corridor.
+
+The cockney steward stood there with a messenger.
+
+"Wireless for Mr. Neeland----" he began; but his speech failed and his
+jaw fell at sight of the nurse in her cap and uniform. And when, on
+his crutches, the bearded man emerged from behind the curtain, the
+steward's eyes fairly protruded.
+
+"The young gentleman is ill," explained the nurse coolly. "Mr. Hawks
+heard him fall in the corridor and came out on his crutches to see
+what had happened. I chanced to be passing through the main corridor,
+fortunately. I am doing what I can for the young gentleman."
+
+"Ow," said the steward, staring over her shoulder at the bearded man
+on crutches.
+
+"There iss no need of calling the ship's doctor," said the man on
+crutches. "This young woman iss a hospital nurse _und_ she iss so
+polite and obliging to volunteer her service for the poor young
+gentleman."
+
+"Yes," she said carelessly, "I can remain here for an hour or two with
+him. He requires only a few simple remedies--I've already given him a
+sedative, and he is sleeping very nicely."
+
+"Yess, yess; it iss not grave. Pooh! It is notting. He slip and knock
+his head. Maybe too much tchampagne. He sleep, and by and by he feel
+better. It iss not advisable to make a fuss. So! We are not longer
+needed, steward. I return to my room."
+
+And, nodding pleasantly, the bearded man hobbled out on his crutches
+and entered his own stateroom across the passage.
+
+"Steward," said the nurse pleasantly, "you may leave the wireless
+telegram with me. When Mr. Neeland wakes I'll read it to him----"
+
+"Give that telegram to _me_!" burst out a ghostly voice from the
+curtained room behind her.
+
+Every atom of colour left her face, and she stood there as though
+stiffened into marble. The steward stared at her. Still staring, he
+passed gingerly in front of her and entered the curtained room.
+
+Neeland was lying on his bed as white as death; but his eyes fluttered
+open in a dazed way:
+
+"Steward," he whispered.
+
+"Yes, sir, Mr. Neeland."
+
+"My--box." His eyes closed.
+
+"Box, sir?"
+
+"Where--is--it?"
+
+"Which box, sir? Is it this one here on the floor?"--lifting the
+olive-wood box in its case. The key was in the lock; the other keys
+hung from it, dangling on a steel ring.
+
+The nurse stepped calmly into the room.
+
+"Steward," she said in her low, pleasant voice, "the sedative I gave
+him has probably confused his mind a little----"
+
+"Put that box--under--my head," interrupted Neeland's voice like a
+groan.
+
+"I tell you," whispered the nurse, "he doesn't know what he is
+saying."
+
+"I got to obey him, ma'am----"
+
+"I forbid you----"
+
+"Steward!" gasped Neeland.
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"My box. I--want it."
+
+"Certainly, sir----"
+
+"Here, beside my--pillow."
+
+"Yes, sir." He laid the box beside the sick man.
+
+"Is it locked, steward?"
+
+"Key sticking in it, sir. Yes, it's locked, sir."
+
+"Open."
+
+The nurse, calm, pale, tight-lipped, stood by the curtain looking at
+the bed over which the steward leaned, opening the box.
+
+"'Ere you are, sir," he said, lifting the cover. "I say, nurse, give
+'im a lift, won't you?"
+
+The nurse coolly stepped to the bedside, stooped, raised the head and
+shoulders of the prostrate man. After a moment his eyes unclosed; he
+looked at the contents of the box with a perceptible effort.
+
+"Lock it, steward. Place it beside me.... Next the wall.... So....
+Place the keys in my pocket.... Thank you.... I had a--pistol."
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"A pistol. Where is it?"
+
+The steward's roving glance fell finally upon the washbasin. He walked
+over, picked up the automatic, and, with an indescribable glance at
+the nurse, laid it across Neeland's up-turned palm.
+
+The young man's fingers fumbled it, closed over the handle; and a
+ghost of a smile touched his ashen face.
+
+"Do you feel better, sir?"
+
+"I'm tired.... Yes, I feel--better."
+
+"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Neeland?"
+
+"Stay outside--my door."
+
+"Do you wish the doctor, sir?"
+
+"No.... No!... Don't call him; do you hear?"
+
+"I won't call him, sir."
+
+"No, don't call him."
+
+"No, sir.... Mr. Neeland, there is a--a trained nurse here. You will
+not want her, will you, sir?"
+
+Again the shadow of a smile crept over Neeland's face.
+
+"Did she come for--her handkerchief?"
+
+There was a silence; the steward looked steadily at the nurse; the
+nurse's dark eyes were fixed on the man lying there before her.
+
+"You shan't be wanting her any more, shall you, sir?" repeated the
+steward, not shifting his gaze.
+
+"Yes; I think I shall want her--for a little while."... Neeland slowly
+opened his eyes, smiled up at the motionless nurse: "How are you,
+Scheherazade?" he said weakly. And, to the steward, with an effort:
+"Miss White and I are--old friends.... However--kindly remain
+outside--my door.... And throw what remains of my dinner--out of--the
+port.... And be ready--at all times--to look after the--gentleman on
+crutches.... I'm--fond of him.... Thank you, steward."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Long after the steward had closed the stateroom door, Ilse Dumont
+stood beside Neeland's bed without stirring. Once or twice he opened
+his eyes and looked at her humorously. After a while he said:
+
+"Please be seated, Scheherazade."
+
+She calmly seated herself on the edge of his couch.
+
+"Horrid soup," he murmured. "You should attend a cooking school, my
+dear."
+
+She regarded him absently, as though other matters absorbed her.
+
+"Yes," he repeated, "as a cook you're a failure, Scheherazade. That
+broth which you seasoned for me has done funny things to my eyes, too.
+But they're recovering. I see much better already. My vision is
+becoming sufficiently clear to observe how pretty you are in your
+nurse's cap and apron."
+
+A slow colour came into her face and he saw her eyebrows bend inward
+as though she were annoyed.
+
+"You _are_ pretty, Scheherazade," he repeated. "You know you are,
+don't you? But you're a poor cook and a rotten shot. You can't be
+perfection, you know. Cheer up!"
+
+She ignored the suggestion, her dark eyes brooding and remote again;
+and he lay watching her with placid interest in which no rancour
+remained. He was feeling decidedly better every minute now. He lifted
+the automatic pistol and shoved it under his pillow, then cautiously
+flexed his fingers, his arms, and finally his knees, with increasing
+pleasure and content.
+
+"Such dreadful soup," he said. "But I'm a lot better, thank you. Was
+it to have been murder this time, too, Scheherazade? Would the entire
+cupful have made a pretty angel of me? Oh, fie! Naughty
+Scheherazade!"
+
+She remained mute.
+
+"Didn't you mean manslaughter with intent to exterminate?" he
+insisted, watching her.
+
+Perhaps she was thinking of her blond and bearded companion, and the
+open port, for she made no reply.
+
+"Why didn't you let him heave me out?" inquired Neeland. "Why did you
+object?"
+
+At that she reddened to the roots of her hair, understanding that what
+she feared had been true--that Neeland, while physically helpless, had
+retained sufficient consciousness to be aware of what was happening to
+him and to understand at least a part of the conversation.
+
+"What was the stuff with which you flavoured that soup,
+Scheherazade?"
+
+He was merely baiting her; he did not expect any reply; but, to his
+surprise, she answered him:
+
+"Threlanium--Speyer's solution is what I used," she said with a sort
+of listless effrontery.
+
+"Don't know it. Don't like it, either. Prefer other condiments."
+
+He lifted himself on one elbow, remained propped so, tore open his
+wireless telegram, and, after a while, contrived to read it:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"James Neeland,
+"S. S. Volhynia.
+
+"Spies aboard. Be careful. If trouble threatens captain has
+instructions British Government to protect you and order arrests on
+your complaint.
+
+ "Naia."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+With a smile that was almost a grin, Neeland handed the telegram to
+Ilse Dumont.
+
+"Scheherazade," he said, "you'll be a good little girl, now, won't
+you? Because it would be a shocking thing for you and your friend
+across the way to land in England wearing funny bangles on your wrists
+and keeping step with each other, wouldn't it?"
+
+She continued to hold the slip of paper and stare at it long after she
+had finished reading it and the words became a series of parallel
+blurs.
+
+"Scheherazade," he said lightly, "what on earth am I going to do with
+you?"
+
+"I suppose you will lodge a charge with the captain against me," she
+replied in even tones.
+
+"Why not? You deserve it, don't you? You and your humorous friend with
+the yellow beard?"
+
+She looked at him with a vague smile.
+
+"What can you prove?" said she.
+
+"Perfectly true, dear child. Nothing. I don't want to prove anything,
+either."
+
+She smiled incredulously.
+
+"It's quite true, Scheherazade. Otherwise, I shouldn't have ordered my
+steward to throw the remains of my dinner out of the corridor
+porthole. No, dear child. I should have had it analysed, had your
+stateroom searched for more of that elusive seasoning you used to
+flavour my dinner; had a further search made for a certain sort of
+handkerchief and perfume. Also, just imagine the delightful evidence
+which a thorough search of your papers might reveal!" He laughed. "No,
+Scheherazade; I did not care to prove you anything resembling a menace
+to society. Because, in the first place, I am absurdly grateful to
+you."
+
+Her face became expressionless under the slow flush mounting.
+
+"I'm not teasing you," he insisted. "What I say is true. I'm grateful
+to you for violently injecting romance into my perfectly commonplace
+existence. You have taken the book of my life and not only extra
+illustrated it with vivid and chromatic pictures, but you have unbound
+it, sewed into its prosaic pages several chapters ripped bodily from a
+penny-dreadful, and you have then rebound the whole thing and pasted
+your own pretty picture on the cover! Come, now! Ought not a man to
+be grateful to any philanthropic girl who so gratuitously obliges
+him?"
+
+Her face burned under his ridicule; her clasped hands in her lap were
+twisted tight as though to maintain her self-control.
+
+"What do you want of me?" she asked between lips that scarcely moved.
+
+He laughed, sat up, stretched out both arms with a sigh of
+satisfaction. The colour came back to his face; he dropped one leg
+over the bed's edge; and she stood erect and stepped aside for him to
+rise.
+
+No dizziness remained; he tried both feet on the floor, straightened
+himself, cast a gaily malicious glance at her, and slowly rose to his
+feet.
+
+"Scheherazade," he said, "_isn't_ it funny? I ask you, did you ever
+hear of a would-be murderess and her escaped victim being on such
+cordial terms? Did you?"
+
+He was going through a few calisthenics, gingerly but with increasing
+abandon, while he spoke.
+
+"I feel fine, thank you. I am enjoying the situation extremely, too.
+It's a delightful paradox, this situation. It's absurd, it's
+enchanting, it's incredible! There is only one more thing that could
+make it perfectly impossible. And I'm going to do it!" And he
+deliberately encircled her waist and kissed her.
+
+She turned white at that, and, as he released her, laughing, took a
+step or two blindly, toward the door; stood there with one hand
+against it as though supporting herself.
+
+After a few moments, and very slowly, she turned and looked at him;
+and that young man was scared for the first time since their encounter
+in the locked house in Brookhollow.
+
+Yet in her face there was no anger, no menace, nothing he had ever
+before seen in any woman's face, nothing that he now comprehended.
+Only, for the moment, it seemed to him that something terrible was
+gazing at him out of this girl's fixed eyes--something that he did not
+recognise as part of her--another being hidden within her, staring out
+through her eyes at him.
+
+"For heaven's sake, Scheherazade----" he faltered.
+
+She opened the door, still watching him over her shoulder, shrank
+through it, and was gone.
+
+He stood for a full five minutes as though stupefied, then walked to
+the door and flung it open. And met a ship's officer face to face,
+already lifting his hand to knock for admittance.
+
+"Mr. Neeland?" he asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Captain West's compliments, and he would be glad to see you in his
+cabin."
+
+"Thank you. My compliments and thanks to Captain West, and I shall
+call on him immediately."
+
+They exchanged bows; the officer turned, hesitated, glanced at the
+steward who stood by the port.
+
+"Did you bring a radio message to Mr. Neeland?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Yes, I received the message," said Neeland.
+
+"The captain requests you to bring the message with you."
+
+"With pleasure," said Neeland.
+
+So the officer went away down the corridor, and Neeland sat down on
+his bed, opened the box, went over carefully every item of its
+contents, relocked it with a grin of satisfaction, and, taking it with
+him, went off to pay a visit to the captain of the _Volhynia_.
+
+The bearded gentleman in the stateroom across the passage had been
+listening intently to the conversation, with his ear flat against his
+keyhole.
+
+And now, without hesitating, he went to a satchel which stood on the
+sofa in his stateroom, opened it, took from it a large bundle of
+papers and a ten-pound iron scale-weight.
+
+Attaching the weight to the papers by means of a heavy strand of
+copper wire, he mounted the sofa and hurled the weighted package into
+the Atlantic Ocean.
+
+"Pig-dogs of British," he muttered in his golden beard, "you may go
+and dive for them when The Day dawns."
+
+Then he filled and lighted a handsome porcelain pipe, and puffed it
+with stolid satisfaction, leaving the pepper-box silver cover open.
+
+"_Der Tag_," he muttered in his golden beard; and his clear eyes swept
+the starlit ocean with the pensive and terrifying scrutiny of a
+waiting eagle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE CAPTAIN OF THE VOLHYNIA
+
+
+The captain of the _Volhynia_ had just come from the bridge and was
+taking a bite of late supper in his cabin when the orderly announced
+Neeland. He rose at once, offering a friendly hand:
+
+"Mr. Neeland, I am very glad to see you. I know you by name and
+reputation already. There were some excellent pictures by you in the
+latest number of the _Midweek Magazine_."
+
+"I'm so glad you liked them, Captain West."
+
+"Yes, I did. There was a breeze in them--a gaiety. And such a fetching
+girl you drew for your heroine!"
+
+"You think so! It's rather interesting. I met a young girl once--she
+comes from up-state where I come from. There was a peculiar and rather
+subtle attraction about her face. So I altered the features of the
+study I was making from my model, and put in hers as I remembered
+them."
+
+"She must be beautiful, Mr. Neeland."
+
+"It hadn't struck me so until I drew her from memory. And there's more
+to the story. I never met her but twice in my life--the second time
+under exceedingly dramatic circumstances. And now I'm crossing the
+Atlantic at a day's notice to oblige her. It's an amusing story, isn't
+it?"
+
+"Mr. Neeland, I think it is going to be what you call a 'continued'
+story."
+
+"No. Oh, no. It ought to be, considering its elements. But it isn't.
+There's no further romance in it, Captain West."
+
+The captain's smile was pleasant but sceptical.
+
+They seated themselves, Neeland declining an invitation to supper, and
+the captain asking his indulgence if he talked while eating.
+
+"Mr. Neeland," he said, "I'm about to talk rather frankly with you. I
+have had several messages by wireless today from British sources,
+concerning you."
+
+Neeland, surprised, said nothing. Captain West finished his bite of
+supper; the steward removed the dishes and went out, closing the door.
+The captain glanced at the box which Neeland had set on the floor by
+his chair.
+
+"May I ask," he said, "why you brought your suitcase with you?"
+
+"It's valuable."
+
+The captain's keen eyes were on his.
+
+"Why are you followed by spies?" he asked.
+
+Neeland reddened.
+
+"Yes," continued the captain of the _Volhynia_, "my Government
+instructs me, by wireless, to offer you any aid and protection you may
+desire. I am informed that you carry papers of military importance to
+a certain foreign nation with which neither England nor France are on
+what might be called cordial terms. I am told it is likely that agents
+of this foreign country have followed you aboard my ship for the
+purpose of robbing you of these papers. Now, Mr. Neeland, what do you
+know about this business?"
+
+"Very little," said Neeland.
+
+"Have you had any trouble?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+The captain smiled:
+
+"Evidently you have wriggled out of it," he said.
+
+"Yes, wriggled is the literal word."
+
+"Then you do not think that you require any protection from me?"
+
+"Perhaps I do. I've been a singularly innocent and lucky ass. It's
+merely chance that my papers have not been stolen, even before I
+started in quest of them."
+
+"Have you been troubled aboard my ship?"
+
+Neeland waved his hand carelessly:
+
+"Nothing to speak of, thank you."
+
+"If you have any charge to make----"
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+The captain regarded him intently:
+
+"Let me tell you something," he said. "Since we sailed, have you
+noticed the bulletins posted containing our wireless news?"
+
+"Yes, I've read them."
+
+"Did they interest you?"
+
+"Yes. You mean that row between Austria and Servia over the Archduke's
+murder?"
+
+"I mean exactly that, Mr. Neeland. And now I am going to tell you
+something else. Tonight I had a radio message which I shall not post
+on the bulletins for various reasons. But I shall tell you under the
+seal of confidence."
+
+"I give you my word of honour," said Neeland quietly.
+
+"I accept it, Mr. Neeland. And this is what has happened: Austria has
+decided on an ultimatum to Servia. And probably will send it."
+
+They remained silent for a moment, then the captain continued:
+
+"Why should we deceive ourselves? This is the most serious thing that
+has happened since the Hohenzollern incident which brought on the
+Franco-Prussian War."
+
+Neeland nodded.
+
+"You see?" insisted the captain. "Suppose the humiliation is too
+severe for Servia to endure? Suppose she refuses the Austrian terms?
+Suppose Austria mobilises against her? What remains for Russia to do
+except to mobilise? And, if Russia does that, what is going to happen
+in Germany? And then, instantly and automatically, what will follow in
+France?" His mouth tightened grimly. "England," he said, "is the ally
+of France. Ask yourself, Mr. Neeland, what are the prospects of this
+deadly combination and deadlier situation."
+
+After a few moments the young man looked up from his brown study:
+
+"I'd like to ask you a question--perhaps not germane to the subject.
+May I?"
+
+"Ask it."
+
+"Then, of what interest are Turkish forts to any of the various allied
+nations--to the Triple Entente or the Triple Alliance?"
+
+"Turkish fortifications?"
+
+"Yes--plans for them."
+
+The captain glanced instinctively at the box beside Neeland's chair,
+but his features remained incurious.
+
+"Turkey is supposed to be the ally of Germany," he said.
+
+"I've heard so. I know that the Turkish army is under German officers.
+But--if war should happen, is it likely that this ramshackle nation
+which was fought to a standstill by the Balkan Alliance only a few
+months ago would be likely to take active sides?"
+
+"Mr. Neeland, it is not only likely, it is absolutely certain."
+
+"You believe Germany would count on her?"
+
+"There is not a doubt of it. Enver Pasha holds the country in his
+right hand; Enver Pasha is the Kaiser's jackal."
+
+"But Turkey is a beaten, discredited nation. She has no modern guns.
+Her fleet is rusting in the Bosporus."
+
+"The Dardanelles bristle with Krupp cannon, Mr. Neeland, manned by
+German gunners. Von der Goltz Pasha has made of a brave people a
+splendid army. As for ships, the ironclads and gunboats off Seraglio
+Point are rusting at anchor, as you say; but there are today enough
+German and Austrian armored ships within running distance of the
+Dardanelles to make for Turkey a powerful defensive squadron. Didn't
+you know any of these facts?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, they _are_ facts.... You see, Mr. Neeland, we English sailors
+of the merchant marine are also part of the naval reserve. And we are
+supposed to know these things."
+
+Neeland was silent.
+
+"Mr. Neeland," he said, "in case of war between the various powers of
+Europe as aligned today, where do you imagine your sympathy would
+lie--and the sympathies of America?"
+
+"Both with France and England," said Neeland bluntly.
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Yes, I do--unless they are the aggressors."
+
+The captain nodded:
+
+"I feel rather that way myself. I feel very sure of the friendliness
+of your country. Because of course we--France and England--never would
+dream of attacking the Central Powers unless first assailed." He
+smiled, nodded toward the box on the floor: "Don't you think, Mr.
+Neeland, that it might be safer to entrust those--that box, I mean--to
+the captain of the Royal Mail steamer, _Volhynia_?"
+
+"Yes, I do," said Neeland quietly.
+
+"And--about these spies. Do you happen to entertain any particular
+suspicions concerning any of the passengers on my ship?" urged the
+captain.
+
+"Indeed, I entertain lively suspicions, and even a few certainties,"
+replied the young fellow, laughing.
+
+"You appear to enjoy the affair?"
+
+"I do. I've never had such a good time. I'm not going to spoil it by
+suggesting that you lock up anybody, either."
+
+"I'm sorry you feel that way," said the captain seriously.
+
+"But I do. They're friends of mine. They've given me the time of my
+life. A dirty trick I'd be serving myself as well as them if I came to
+you and preferred charges against them!"
+
+The captain inspected him curiously for a few moments, then, in a soft
+voice:
+
+"By any chance, Mr. Neeland, have you any Irish blood in your veins?"
+
+"Yes, thank God!" returned the young fellow, unable to control his
+laughter. "And I'll bet there isn't a drop in you, Captain West."
+
+"Not a drop, thank G--I'm sorry!--I ask your pardon, Mr. Neeland!"
+added the captain, very red in the face.
+
+But Neeland laughed so hard that, after a moment, the red died out in
+the captain's face and a faint grin came into it.
+
+So they shook hands and said good night; and Neeland went away,
+leaving his box on the floor of the captain's cabin as certain of its
+inviolability as he was of the Bank of England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE DROP OF IRISH
+
+
+The usual signs of land greeted Neeland when he rose early next
+morning and went out on deck for the first time without his olive-wood
+box--first a few gulls, then puffins, terns, and other sea fowl in
+increasing numbers, weed floating, fishing smacks, trawlers tossing on
+the rougher coast waters.
+
+After breakfast he noticed two British torpedo boat destroyers, one to
+starboard, the other on the port bow, apparently keeping pace with the
+_Volhynia_. They were still there at noon, subjects of speculation
+among the passengers; and at tea-time their number was increased to
+five, the three new destroyers appearing suddenly out of nowhere, dead
+ahead, dashing forward through a lively sea under a swirling vortex of
+gulls.
+
+The curiosity of the passengers, always easily aroused, became more
+thoroughly stirred up by the bulletins posted late that afternoon,
+indicating that the tension between the several European chancelleries
+was becoming acute, and that emperors and kings were exchanging
+personal telegrams.
+
+There was all sorts of talk on deck and at the dinner table, wild
+talk, speculative talk, imaginative discussions, logical and
+illogical. But, boiled down to its basic ingredients, the wildest
+imagination on board the _Volhynia_ admitted war to be an
+impossibility of modern times, and that, ultimately, diplomacy would
+settle what certainly appeared to be the ugliest international
+situation in a hundred years.
+
+At the bottom of his heart Neeland believed this, too; wished for it
+when his higher and more educated spiritual self was flatly
+interrogated; and yet, in the everyday, impulsive ego of James
+Neeland, the drop of Irish had begun to sing and seethe with the
+atavistic instinct for a row.
+
+War? He didn't know what it meant, of course. It made good poetry and
+interesting fiction; it rendered history amusing; made dry facts
+succulent.
+
+Preparations for war in Europe, which had been going on for fifty
+years, were most valuable, too, in contributing the brilliant hues of
+uniforms to an otherwise sombre civilian world, and investing
+commonplace and sober cities with the omnipresent looming mystery of
+fortifications.
+
+To a painter, war seemed to be a dramatic and gorgeous affair; to a
+young man it appealed as all excitement appeals. The sportsman in him
+desired to witness a scrap; his artist's imagination was aroused; the
+gambler in him speculated as to the outcome of such a war. And the
+seething, surging drop of Irish fizzed and purred and coaxed for a
+chance to edge sideways into any fight which God in His mercy might
+provide for a decent gossoon who had never yet had the pleasure of a
+broken head.
+
+"Not," thought Neeland to himself, "that I'll go trailing my coat
+tails. I'll go about my own business, of course--but somebody may hit
+me a crack at that!"
+
+He thought of Ilse Dumont and of the man with the golden beard,
+realising that he had had a wonderful time, after all; sorry in his
+heart that it was all over and that the _Volhynia_ was due to let go
+her mudhooks in the Mersey about three o'clock the next morning.
+
+As he leaned on the deck rail in the soft July darkness, he could see
+the lights of the destroyers to port and starboard, see strings of
+jewel-like signals flash, twinkle, fade, and flash again.
+
+All around him along the deck passengers were promenading, girls in
+evening gowns or in summer white; men in evening dress or reefed in
+blue as nautically as possible; old ladies toddling, swathed in veils,
+old gentlemen in dinner coats and sporting headgear--every weird or
+conventional combination infested the decks of the _Volhynia_.
+
+Now, for the first time during the voyage, Neeland felt free to lounge
+about where he listed, saunter wherever the whim of the moment
+directed his casual steps. The safety of the olive-wood box was no
+longer on his mind, the handle no longer in his physical clutch. He
+was at liberty to stroll as carelessly as any boulevard _flaneur_; and
+he did so, scanning the passing throng for a glimpse of Ilse Dumont or
+of the golden-bearded one, but not seeing either of them.
+
+In fact, he had not laid eyes on them since he had supped not wisely
+but too well on the soup that Scheherazade had flavoured for him.
+
+The stateroom door of the golden-bearded man had remained closed. His
+own little cockney steward, who also looked out for Golden Beard,
+reported that gentleman as requiring five meals a day, with beer in
+proportion, and the porcelain pipe steaming like AEtna all day long.
+
+His little West Indian stewardess also reported the gossip from her
+friend on another corridor, which was, in effect, that Miss White, the
+trained nurse, took all meals in her room and had not been observed
+to leave that somewhat monotonous sanctuary.
+
+How many more of the band there might be Neeland did not know. He
+remembered vaguely, while lying rigid under the grip of the drug, that
+he had heard Ilse Dumont's voice mention somebody called Karl. And he
+had an idea that this Karl might easily be the big, ham-fisted German
+who had tried so earnestly to stifle him and throw him from the
+vestibule of the midnight express.
+
+However, it did not matter now. The box was safe in the captain's
+care; the _Volhynia_ would be lying at anchor off Liverpool before
+daylight; the whole exciting and romantic business was ended.
+
+With an unconscious sigh, not entirely of relief, Neeland opened his
+cigarette case, found it empty, turned and went slowly below with the
+idea of refilling it.
+
+They were dancing somewhere on deck; the music of the ship's orchestra
+came to his ears. He paused a moment on the next deck to lean on the
+rail in the darkness and listen.
+
+Far beneath him, through a sea as black as onyx, swept the reflections
+of the lighted ports; and he could hear the faint hiss of foam from
+the curling flow below.
+
+As he turned to resume his quest for cigarettes, he was startled to
+see directly in front of him the heavy figure of a man--so close to
+him, in fact, that Neeland instinctively threw up his arm, elbow out,
+to avoid contact.
+
+But the man, halting, merely lifted his hat, saying that in the dim
+light he had mistaken Neeland for a friend; and they passed each other
+on the almost deserted deck, saluting formally in the European
+fashion, with lifted hats.
+
+His spirits a trifle subdued, but still tingling with the shock of
+discovering a stranger so close behind him where he had stood leaning
+over the ship's rail, Neeland continued on his way below.
+
+Probably the big man had made a mistake in good faith; but the man
+certainly had approached very silently; was almost at his very elbow
+when discovered. And Neeland remembered the light-shot depths over
+which, at that moment, he had been leaning; and he realised that it
+would have been very easy for a man as big as that to have flung him
+overboard before he had wit to realise what had been done to him.
+
+Neither could he forget the curious gleam in the stranger's eyes when
+a ray from a deck light fell across his shadowy face--unusually small
+eyes set a little too close together to inspire confidence. Nor had
+the man's slight accent escaped him--not a Teutonic accent, he
+thought, but something fuller and softer--something that originated
+east of Scutari, suggesting the Eurasian, perhaps.
+
+But Neeland's soberness was of volatile quality; before he arrived at
+his stateroom he had recovered his gaiety of spirit. He glanced
+ironically at the closed door of Golden Beard as he fitted his key
+into his own door.
+
+"A lively lot," he thought to himself, "what with Scheherazade, Golden
+Beard, and now Ali Baba--by jinx!--he certainly did have an Oriental
+voice!--and he looked the part, too, with a beak for a nose and a
+black moustache a la Enver Pasha!"
+
+Much diverted by his own waxing imagination, he turned on the light
+in his stateroom, filled the cigarette case, turned to go out, and saw
+on the carpet just inside his door a bit of white paper folded
+cocked-hat fashion and addressed to him.
+
+Picking it up and unfolding it, he read:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+May I see you this evening at eleven? My stateroom is 623. If there is
+anybody in the corridor, knock; if not, come in without knocking.
+
+I mean no harm to you. I give my word of honour. Please accept it for
+as much as your personal courage makes it worth to you--its face
+value, or nothing.
+
+Knowing you, I may say without flattery that I expect you. If I am
+disappointed, I still must bear witness to your courage and to a
+generosity not characteristic of your sex.
+
+You have had both power and provocation to make my voyage on this ship
+embarrassing. You have not done so. And self-restraint in a man is a
+very deadly weapon to use on a woman.
+
+I hope you will come. I desire to be generous on my part. Ask yourself
+whether you are able to believe this. You don't know women, Mr.
+Neeland. Your conclusion probably will be a wrong one.
+
+But I think you'll come, all the same. And you will be right in
+coming, whatever you believe.
+
+ Ilse Dumont.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+It was a foregone conclusion that he would go. He knew it before he
+had read half the note. And when he finished it he was certain.
+
+Amused, his curiosity excited, grateful that the adventure had not yet
+entirely ended, he lighted a cigarette and looked impatiently at his
+watch.
+
+It lacked half an hour of the appointed time and his exhilaration was
+steadily increasing.
+
+He stuck the note into the frame of his mirror over the washstand with
+a vague idea that if anything happened to him this would furnish a
+clue to his whereabouts.
+
+Then he thought of the steward, but, although he had no reason to
+believe the girl who had written him, something within him made him
+ashamed to notify the steward as to where he was going. He ought to
+have done it; common prudence born of experience with Ilse Dumont
+suggested it. And yet he could not bring himself to do it; and exactly
+why, he did not understand.
+
+One thing, however, he could do; and he did. He wrote a note to
+Captain West giving the Paris address of the Princess Mistchenka, and
+asked that the olive-wood box be delivered to her in case any accident
+befell him. This note he dropped into the mailbox at the end of the
+main corridor as he went out. A few minutes later he stood in an empty
+passageway outside a door numbered 623. He had a loaded automatic in
+his breast pocket, a cigarette between his fingers, and, on his
+agreeable features, a smile of anticipation--a smile in which
+amusement, incredulity, reckless humour, and a spice of malice were
+blended--the smile born of the drop of Irish sparkling like champagne
+in his singing veins.
+
+And he turned the knob of door No. 623 and went in.
+
+She was reading, curled up on her sofa under the electric bulb, a
+cigarette in one hand, a box of bonbons beside her.
+
+She looked up leisurely as he entered, gave him a friendly nod, and,
+when he held out his hand, placed her own in it. With delighted
+gravity he bent and saluted her finger tips with lips that twitched to
+control a smile.
+
+"Will you be seated, please?" she said gently.
+
+The softness of her agreeable voice struck him as he looked around
+for a seat, then directly at her; and saw that she meant him to find a
+seat on the lounge beside her.
+
+"Now, indeed you are Scheherazade of the Thousand and One Nights," he
+said gaily, "with your cigarette and your bonbons, and cross-legged on
+your divan----"
+
+"Did Scheherazade smoke cigarettes, Mr. Neeland?"
+
+"No," he admitted; "that is an anachronism, I suppose. Tell me, how
+are you, dear lady?"
+
+"Thank you, quite well."
+
+"And--busy?" His lips struggled again to maintain their gravity.
+
+"Yes, I have been busy."
+
+"Cooking something up?--I mean soup, of course," he added.
+
+She forced a smile, but reddened as though it were difficult for her
+to accustom herself to his half jesting sarcasms.
+
+"So you've been busy," he resumed tormentingly, "but not with cooking
+lessons! Perhaps you've been practising with your pretty little
+pistol. You know you really need a bit of small arms practice,
+Scheherazade."
+
+"Because I once missed you?" she inquired serenely.
+
+"Why so you did, didn't you?" he exclaimed, delighted to goad her into
+replying.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I missed you. I needn't have. I am really a dead
+shot, Mr. Neeland."
+
+"Oh, Scheherazade!" he protested.
+
+She shrugged:
+
+"I am not bragging; I could have killed you. I supposed it was
+necessary only to frighten you. It was my mistake and a bad one."
+
+"My dear child," he expostulated, "you meant murder and you know it.
+Do you suppose I believe that you know how to shoot?"
+
+"But I do, Mr. Neeland," she returned with good-humoured indifference.
+"My father was head _jaeger_ to Count Geier von Sturmspitz, and I was
+already a dead shot with a rifle when we emigrated to Canada. And when
+he became an Athabasca trader, and I was only twelve years old, I
+could set a moose-hide shoe-lace swinging and cut it in two with a
+revolver at thirty yards. And I can drive a shingle nail at that
+distance and drive the bullet that drove it, and the next and the
+next, until my revolver is empty. You don't believe me, do you?"
+
+"You know that the beautiful Scheherazade----"
+
+"Was famous for her fantastic stories? Yes, I know that, Mr. Neeland.
+I'm sorry you don't believe I fired only to frighten you."
+
+"I'm sorry I don't," he admitted, laughing, "but I'll practise trying,
+and maybe I shall attain perfect credulity some day. Tell me," he
+added, "what _have_ you been doing to amuse yourself?"
+
+"I've been amusing myself by wondering whether you would come here to
+see me tonight."
+
+"But your note said you were sure I'd come."
+
+"You _have_ come, haven't you?"
+
+"Yes, Scheherazade, I'm here at your bidding, spirit and flesh. But I
+forgot to bring one thing."
+
+"What?"
+
+"The box which--you have promised yourself."
+
+"Yes, the captain has it, I believe," she returned serenely.
+
+"Oh, Lord! Have you even found out _that_? I don't know whether I'm
+much flattered by this surveillance you and your friends maintain
+over me. I suppose you even know what I had for dinner. Do you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Come, I'll call that bluff, dear lady! What did I have?"
+
+When she told him, carelessly, and without humour, mentioning
+accurately every detail of his dinner, he lost his gaiety of
+countenance a little.
+
+"Oh, I say, you know," he protested, "that's going it a trifle too
+strong. Now, why the devil should your people keep tabs on me to that
+extent?"
+
+She looked up directly into his eyes:
+
+"Mr. Neeland, I want to tell you why. I asked you here so that I may
+tell you. The people associated with me are absolutely pledged that
+neither the French nor the British Government shall have access to the
+contents of your box. That is why nothing that you do escapes our
+scrutiny. We are determined to have the papers in that box, and we
+shall have them."
+
+"You have come to that determination too late," he began; but she
+stopped him with a slight gesture of protest:
+
+"Please don't interrupt me, Mr. Neeland."
+
+"I won't; go on, dear lady!"
+
+"Then, I'm trying to tell you all I may. I am trying to tell you
+enough of the truth to make you reflect very seriously.
+
+"This is no ordinary private matter, no vulgar attempt at robbery and
+crime as you think--or pretend to think--for you are very intelligent,
+Mr. Neeland, and you know that the contrary is true.
+
+"This affair concerns the secret police, the embassies, the
+chancelleries, the rulers themselves of nations long since grouped
+into two formidable alliances radically hostile to one another.
+
+"I don't think you have understood--perhaps even yet you do not
+understand why the papers you carry are so important to certain
+governments--why it is impossible that you be permitted to deliver
+them to the Princess Mistchenka----"
+
+"Where did _you_ ever hear of _her_!" he demanded in astonishment.
+
+The girl smiled:
+
+"Dear Mr. Neeland, I know the Princess Mistchenka better, perhaps,
+than you do."
+
+"Do you?"
+
+"Indeed I do. What do you know about her? Nothing at all except that
+she is handsome, attractive, cultivated, amusing, and apparently
+wealthy.
+
+"You know her as a traveller, a patroness of music and the fine
+arts--as a devotee of literature, as a graceful hostess, and an
+amiable friend who gives promising young artists letters of
+introduction to publishers who are in a position to offer them
+employment."
+
+That this girl should know so much about the Princess Mistchenka and
+about his own relations with her amazed Neeland. He did not pretend to
+account for it; he did not try; he sat silent, serious, and surprised,
+looking into the pretty and almost smiling face of a girl who
+apparently had been responsible for three separate attempts to kill
+him--perhaps even a fourth attempt; and who now sat beside him talking
+in a soft and agreeable voice about matters concerning which he had
+never dreamed she had heard.
+
+For a few moments she sat silent, observing in his changing expression
+the effects of what she had said to him. Then, with a smile:
+
+"Ask me whatever questions you desire to ask, Mr. Neeland. I shall do
+my best to answer them."
+
+"Very well," he said bluntly; "how do you happen to know so much about
+me?"
+
+"I know something about the friends of the Princess Mistchenka. I have
+to."
+
+"Did you know who I was there in the house at Brookhollow?"
+
+"No."
+
+"When, then?"
+
+"When you yourself told me your name, I recognised it."
+
+"I surprised you by interrupting you in Brookhollow?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You expected no interruption?"
+
+"None."
+
+"How did you happen to go there? Where did you ever hear of the
+olive-wood box?"
+
+"I had advices by cable from abroad--directions to go to Brookhollow
+and secure the box."
+
+"Then somebody must be watching the Princess Mistchenka."
+
+"Of course," she said simply.
+
+"Why 'of course'?"
+
+"Mr. Neeland, the Princess Mistchenka and her youthful _protegee_,
+Miss Carew----"
+
+"_What!!!_"
+
+The girl smiled wearily:
+
+"Really," she said, "you are such a boy to be mixed in with matters of
+this colour. I think that's the reason you have defeated us--the
+trained fencer dreads a left-handed novice more than any classic
+master of the foils.
+
+"And that is what you have done to us--blundered--if you'll forgive
+me--into momentary victory.
+
+"But such victories are only momentary, Mr. Neeland. Please believe
+it. Please try to understand, too, that this is no battle with masks
+and plastrons and nicely padded buttons. No; it is no comedy, but a
+grave and serious affair that must inevitably end in tragedy--for
+somebody."
+
+"For me?" he asked without smiling.
+
+She turned on him abruptly and laid one hand lightly on his arm with a
+pretty gesture, at once warning, appealing, and protective.
+
+"I asked you to come here," she said, "because--because I want you to
+escape the tragedy."
+
+"You want _me_ to escape?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I--am sorry for you."
+
+He said nothing.
+
+"And--I like you, Mr. Neeland."
+
+The avowal in the soft, prettily modulated voice, lost none of its
+charm and surprise because the voice was a trifle tremulous, and the
+girl's face was tinted with a delicate colour.
+
+"I like to believe what you say, Scheherazade," he said pleasantly.
+"Somehow or other I never did think you hated me personally--except
+once----"
+
+She flushed, and he was silent, remembering her humiliation in the
+Brookhollow house.
+
+"I don't know," she said in a colder tone, "why I should feel at all
+friendly toward you, Mr. Neeland, except that you are personally
+courageous, and you have shown yourself generous under a severe
+temptation to be otherwise.
+
+"As for--any personal humiliation--inflicted upon me----" She looked
+down thoughtfully and pretended to sort out a bonbon to her taste,
+while the hot colour cooled in her cheeks.
+
+"I know," he said, "I've also jeered at you, jested, nagged you,
+taunted you, kiss----" He checked himself and he smiled and
+ostentatiously lighted a cigarette.
+
+"Well," he said, blowing a cloud of aromatic smoke toward the ceiling,
+"I believe that this is as strange a week as any man ever lived. It's
+like a story book--like one of your wonderful stories, Scheherazade.
+It doesn't seem real, now that it is ended----"
+
+"_It is not ended_," she interrupted in a low voice.
+
+He smiled.
+
+"You know," he said, "there's no use trying to frighten such an idiot
+as I am."
+
+She lifted her troubled eyes:
+
+"That is what frightens _me_," she said. "I am afraid you don't know
+enough to be afraid."
+
+He laughed.
+
+"But I want you to be afraid. A really brave man knows what fear is. I
+want _you_ to know."
+
+"What do you wish me to do, Scheherazade?"
+
+"Keep away from that box."
+
+"I can't do that."
+
+"Yes, you can. You can leave it in charge of the captain of this ship
+and let him see that an attempt is made to deliver it to the Princess
+Mistchenka."
+
+She was in deadly earnest; he saw that. And, in spite of himself, a
+slight thrill that was almost a chill passed over him, checked
+instantly by the hot wave of sheer exhilaration at the hint of actual
+danger.
+
+"Oho!" he said gaily. "Then you and your friends are not yet finished
+with me?"
+
+"Yes, if you will consider your mission accomplished."
+
+"And leave the rest to the captain of the _Volhynia_?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Scheherazade," he said, "did you suppose me to be a coward?"
+
+"No. You have done all that you can. A reserve officer of the British
+Navy has the box in his charge. Let him, protected by his Government,
+send it toward its destination."
+
+In her even voice the implied menace was the more sinister for her
+calmness.
+
+He looked at her, perplexed, and shook his head.
+
+"I ask you," she went on, "to keep out of this affair--to disassociate
+yourself from it. I ask it because you have been considerate and
+brave, and because I do not wish you harm."
+
+He turned toward her, leaning a little forward on the lounge:
+
+"No use," he said, smiling. "I'm in it until it ends----"
+
+"Let it end then!" said a soft, thick voice directly behind him. And
+Neeland turned and found the man he had seen on deck standing beside
+him. One of his fat white hands held an automatic pistol, covering
+him; the other was carefully closing the door which he had noiselessly
+opened to admit him.
+
+"Karl!" exclaimed Ilse Dumont.
+
+"It is safaire that you do not stir, either, to interfere," he said,
+squinting for a second at her out of his eyes set too near together.
+
+"Karl!" she cried. "I asked him to come in order to persuade him! I
+gave him my word of honour!"
+
+"Did you do so? Then all the bettaire. I think we shall persuade him.
+Do not venture to move, young man; I shoot veree willingly."
+
+And Neeland, looking at him along the blunt barrel of the automatic
+pistol, was inclined to believe him.
+
+His sensations were not agreeable; he managed to maintain a calm
+exterior; choke back the hot chagrin that reddened his face to the
+temples; and cast a half humorous, half contemptuous glance at Ilse
+Dumont.
+
+"You prove true, don't you?" he said coolly. "--True to your trade of
+story-telling, Scheherazade!"
+
+"I knew--nothing--of this!" she stammered.
+
+But Neeland only laughed disagreeably.
+
+Then the door opened again softly, and Golden Beard came in without
+his crutches.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+METHOD AND FORESIGHT
+
+
+Without a word--with merely a careless glance at Neeland, who remained
+seated under the level threat of Ali Baba's pistol, the big, handsome
+German removed his overcoat. Under it was another coat. He threw this
+off in a brisk, businesslike manner, unbuckled a brace of pistols,
+laid them aside, unwound from his body a long silk rope ladder which
+dropped to the floor at Ilse Dumont's feet.
+
+The girl had turned very pale. She stooped, picked up the silk ladder,
+and, holding it in both hands, looked hard at Golden Beard.
+
+"Johann," she said, "I gave my word of honour to this young man that
+if he came here no harm would happen to him."
+
+"I read the note you have shoved under his door," said Golden Beard.
+"That iss why we are here, Karl and I."
+
+Neeland remembered the wax in the keyhole then. He turned his eyes on
+Ilse Dumont, curiously, less certain of her treachery now.
+
+Meanwhile, Golden Beard continued busily unwinding things from his
+apparently too stout person, and presently disengaged three
+life-belts.
+
+One of these he adjusted to his own person, then, putting on his
+voluminous overcoat, took the pistol from Ali Baba, who, in turn,
+adjusted one of the remaining life-belts to his body.
+
+Neeland, deeply perplexed and uncomfortable, watched these operations
+in silence, trying to divine some reason for them.
+
+"Now, then!" said Golden Beard to the girl; and his voice sounded cold
+and incisive in the silence.
+
+"This is not the way to do it," she said in a low tone. "I gave him my
+word of honour."
+
+"You will be good enough to buckle on that belt," returned Golden
+Beard, staring at her.
+
+Slowly she bent over, picked up the life-belt, and, looping the silk
+rope over her arm, began to put on the belt. Golden Beard, impatient,
+presently came to her assistance; then he unhooked from the wall a
+cloak and threw it over her shoulders.
+
+"Now, Karl!" he said. "Shoot him dead if he stirs!" And he snatched a
+sheet from the bed, tore it into strips, walked over to Neeland, and
+deftly tied him hand and foot and gagged him.
+
+Then Golden Beard and Ali Baba, between them, lifted the young man and
+seated him on the iron bed and tied him fast to it.
+
+"Go out on deck!" said Golden Beard to Ilse Dumont.
+
+"Let me stay----"
+
+"No! You have acted like a fool. Go to the lower deck where is our
+accustomed rendezvous."
+
+"I wish to remain, Johann. I shall not interfere----"
+
+"Go to the lower deck, I tell you, and be ready to tie that rope
+ladder!"
+
+Ali Baba, down on his knees, had pulled out a steamer trunk from under
+the bed, opened it, and was lifting out three big steel cylinders.
+
+These he laid on the bed in a row beside the tied man; and Golden
+Beard, still facing Ilse Dumont, turned his head to look.
+
+The instant his head was turned the girl snatched a pistol from the
+brace of weapons on the washstand and thrust it under her cloak.
+Neither Golden Beard nor Ali Baba noticed the incident; the latter was
+busy connecting the three cylinders with coils of wire; the former,
+deeply interested, followed the operation for a moment or two, then
+walking over to the trunk, he lifted from it a curious little clock
+with two dials and set it on the railed shelf of glass above the
+washstand.
+
+"Karl, haf you ship's time?"
+
+Ali Baba paused to fish out his watch, and the two compared
+timepieces. Then Golden Beard wound the clock, set the hands of one
+dial at the time indicated by their watches; set the hands of the
+other dial at 2:13; and Ali Baba, carrying a reel of copper wire from
+the bed to the washstand, fastened one end of it to the mechanism of
+the clock.
+
+Golden Beard turned sharply on Ilse Dumont:
+
+"I said go on deck! Did you not understand?"
+
+The girl replied steadily:
+
+"I understood that we had abandoned this idea for a better one."
+
+"There iss no better one!"
+
+"There _is_! Of what advantage would it be to blow up the captain's
+cabin and the bridge when it is not certain that the papers will be
+destroyed?"
+
+"Listen once!" returned Golden Beard, wagging his finger in her face:
+
+"Cabin and bridge are directly above us and there remains not a
+splinter large like a pin! I know. I know my bombs! I know----"
+
+The soft voice of Ali Baba interrupted, and his shallow, lightish eyes
+peered around at them:
+
+"Eet ees veree excellent plan, Johann. We do not require these papers;
+eet ees to destroy them we are mooch anxious"--he bent a deathly stare
+on Neeland--"and this yoong gentleman who may again annoy us." He
+nodded confidently to himself and continued to connect the wires.
+"Yes, yes," he murmured absently, "eet ees veree good plan--veree good
+plan to blow him into leetle pieces so beeg as a pin."
+
+"It is a clumsy plan!" said the girl, desperately. "There is no need
+for wanton killing like this, when we can----"
+
+"Killing?" repeated Golden Beard. "That makes nothing. This English
+captain he iss of the naval reserve. _Und_ this young man"--nodding
+coolly toward Neeland--"knows too much already. That iss not wanton
+killing. _Also!_ You talk too much. Do you hear? We are due to drop
+anchor about 2:30. God knows there will be enough rushing to and fro
+at 2:13.
+
+"Go on deck, I say, and fasten that rope ladder! Weishelm's fishing
+smack will be watching; _und_ if we do not swim for it we are caught
+on board! _Und_ that iss the end of it all for us!"
+
+"Johann," she began tremulously, "listen to me----"
+
+"_Nein! Nein!_ What for a _Frauenzimmer_ haff we here!" retorted
+Golden Beard, losing his patience and catching her by the arm. "Go out
+und fix for us our ladder und keep it coiled on the rail und lean ofer
+it like you was looking at those stars once!"
+
+He forced her toward the door; she turned, struggling, to confront
+him:
+
+"Then for God's sake, give this man a chance! Don't leave him tied
+here to be blown to atoms! Give him a chance--anything except this!
+Throw him out of the port, there!" She pointed at the closed port,
+evaded Golden Beard, sprang upon the sofa, unscrewed the glass cover,
+and swung it open.
+
+The port was too small even to admit the passage of her own body; she
+realised it; Golden Beard laughed and turned to examine the result of
+Ali Baba's wiring.
+
+For a second the girl gazed wildly around her, as though seeking some
+help in her terrible dilemma, then she snatched up a bit of the torn
+sheeting, tied it to the screw of the porthole cover, and flung the
+end out where it fluttered in the darkness.
+
+As she sprang to the floor Golden Beard swung round in renewed anger
+at her for still loitering.
+
+"Sacreminton!" he exclaimed. "It is time you do your part! Go to your
+post then! We remain here until five minutes is left us. Then we join
+you."
+
+The girl nodded, turned to the door.
+
+"Wait! You understand the plan?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You understand that you do not go overboard until we arrive, no
+matter what happens?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He stood looking at her for a moment, then with a shrug he went over
+and patted her shoulder.
+
+"That's my brave girl! I also do not desire to kill anybody. But when
+the Fatherland is in danger, then killing signifies nothing--is of no
+consequence--pouf!--no lives are of importance then--not even our
+own!" He laughed in a fashion almost kindly and clapped her lightly
+once more on her shoulder: "Go, my child. The Fatherland is in
+danger!"
+
+She went, not looking back. He closed and locked the door behind her
+and calmly turned to aid Ali Baba who was still fussing with the
+wires. Presently, however, he mounted the bed where Neeland sat tied
+and gagged; pulled from his pockets an auger with its bit, a
+screw-eye, and block and tackle; and, standing on the bed, began to
+bore a hole in the ceiling.
+
+In a few moments he had fastened the screw-eye, rigged his block, made
+a sling for his bombs out of a blanket, and had hoisted the three
+cylinders up flat against the ceiling from whence the connecting wires
+sagged over the foot of the bedstead to the alarm clock on the
+washstand.
+
+To give the clock more room on the glass shelf, Ali Baba removed the
+toilet accessories and set them on the washstand; but he had no room
+for a large jug of water, and, casting about for a place to set it,
+noticed a railed bracket over the head of the bed, and placed it
+there.
+
+Then, apparently satisfied with his labours, he sat down Turk fashion
+on the sofa, lighted a cigarette, selected a bonbon from the box
+beside him, and calmly regaled himself.
+
+Presently Golden Beard tied the cord which held up the sling in which
+the bombs were slung against the ceiling. He fastened it tightly to
+the iron frame of the bed, stepped back to view the effect, then
+leisurely pulled out and filled his porcelain pipe, and seated himself
+on the sofa beside Ali Baba.
+
+Neither spoke; twice Golden Beard drew his watch from his waistcoat
+pocket and compared it carefully with the dial of the alarm clock on
+the washstand shelf. The third time he did this he tapped Ali Baba on
+the shoulder, rose, knocked out his pipe and flung it out of the open
+port.
+
+Together they walked over to Neeland, examined the gag and ligatures
+as impersonally as though the prisoner were not there, nodded their
+satisfaction, turned off the electric light, and, letting themselves
+out, locked the door on the outside.
+
+It lacked five minutes of the time indicated on the alarm dial.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+TWO THIRTEEN
+
+
+To Neeland, the entire affair had seemed as though it were some rather
+obvious screen-picture at which he was looking--some photo-play too
+crudely staged, and in which he himself was no more concerned than any
+casual spectator.
+
+Until now, Neeland had not been scared; Ali Baba and his automatic
+pistol were only part of this unreality; his appearance on the scene
+had been fantastically classical; he entered when his cue was given by
+Scheherazade--this oily, hawk-nosed Eurasian with his pale eyes set
+too closely and his moustache hiding under his nose a la Enver
+Pasha--a faultless make-up, an entry properly timed and prepared. And
+then, always well-timed for dramatic effect, Golden Beard had
+appeared. Everything was _en regle_, every unity nicely preserved.
+Scheherazade had protested; and her protest sounded genuine. Also
+entirely convincing was the binding and gagging of himself at the
+point of an automatic pistol; and, as for the rest of the business, it
+was practically all action and little dialogue--an achievement really
+in these days of dissertation.
+
+All, as he looked on at it over the bandage which closed his mouth,
+had seemed unreal, impersonal, even when his forced attitude had
+caused him inconvenience and finally pain.
+
+But now, with the light extinguished and the closing of the door
+behind Golden Beard and Ali Baba, he experienced a shock which began
+to awaken him to the almost incredible and instant reality of things.
+
+It actually began to look as though these story-book conspirators--these
+hirelings of a foreign government who had not been convincing because
+they were too obvious, too well done--actually intended to expose him to
+serious injury.
+
+In spite of their sinister intentions in regard to him, in spite of
+their attempts to harm him, he had not, so far, been able to take them
+seriously or even to reconcile them and their behaviour with the
+commonplaces of the twentieth century in which he lived.
+
+But now, in the darkness, with the clock on the washstand shelf
+ticking steadily, he began to take the matter very seriously. The gag
+in his mouth hurt him cruelly; the bands of linen that held it in
+began to stifle him so that his breath came in quick gasps through his
+nostrils; sweat started at the roots of his hair; his heart leaped,
+beat madly, stood still, and leaped again; and he threw himself
+against the strips that held him and twisted and writhed with all his
+strength.
+
+Suddenly fear pierced him like a poignard; for a moment panic seized
+him and chaos reigned in his bursting brain. He swayed and strained
+convulsively; he strove to hurl all the inward and inert reserve of
+strength against the bonds that held him.
+
+After what seemed an age of terrible effort he found himself breathing
+fast and heavily as though his lungs would burst through his
+straining, dilating nostrils, seated exactly as he had been without a
+band loosened, and the icy sweat pouring over his twitching face.
+
+He heard himself trying to shout--heard the imprisoned groan shattered
+in his own throat, dying there within him.
+
+Suddenly a key rattled; the door was torn open; the light switched on.
+Golden Beard stood there, his blue eyes glaring furious inquiry. He
+gave one glance around the room, caught sight of the clock, recoiled,
+shut off the light again, and slammed and locked the door.
+
+But in that instant Neeland's starting eyes had seen the clock. The
+fixed hands on one of the dials still pointed to 2:13; the moving
+hands on the other lacked three minutes of that hour.
+
+And, seated there in the pitch darkness, he suddenly realised that he
+had only three minutes more of life on earth.
+
+All panic was gone; his mind was quite clear. He heard every tick of
+the clock and knew what each one meant.
+
+Also he heard a sudden sound across the room, as though outside the
+port something was rustling against the ship's side.
+
+Suddenly there came a click and the room sprang into full light; an
+arm, entering the open port from the darkness outside, let go the
+electric button, was withdrawn, only to reappear immediately clutching
+an automatic pistol. And the next instant the arm and the head of Ilse
+Dumont were thrust through the port into the room.
+
+Her face was pale as death as her eyes fell on the dial of the clock.
+With a gasp she stretched out her arm and fired straight at the clock,
+shattering both dials and knocking the timepiece into the washbasin
+below.
+
+For a moment she struggled to force her other shoulder and her body
+through the port, but it was too narrow. Then she called across to the
+bound figure seated on the bed and staring at her with eyes that
+fairly started from their sockets:
+
+"Mr. Neeland, can't you move? Try! Try to break loose----"
+
+Her voice died away in a whisper as a flash of bluish flame broke out
+close to the ceiling overhead, where the three bombs were slung.
+
+"Oh, God!" she faltered. "The fuses are afire!"
+
+For an instant her brain reeled; she instinctively recoiled as though
+to fling herself out into the darkness. Then, in a second, her
+extended arm grew rigid, slanted upward; the pistol exploded once,
+twice, the third time; the lighted bombs in their sling, released by
+the severed rope, fell to the bed, the fuses sputtering and fizzling.
+
+Instantly the girl fired again at the big jug of water on the bracket
+over the head of the bed; a deluge drenched the bed underneath; two
+fuses were out; one still snapped and glimmered and sent up little
+jets and rings of vapour; but as the water soaked into the match the
+cinder slowly died until the last spark fell from the charred wet end
+and went out on the drenched blanket.
+
+She waited a little longer, then with an indescribable look at the
+helpless man below, she withdrew her head, pushed herself free, hung
+to the invisible rope ladder for a moment, swaying against the open
+port. His eyes were fastened on her where she dangled there against
+the darkness betwixt sky and sea, oscillating with the movement of the
+ship, her pendant figure now gilded by the light from the room, now
+phantom dim as she swung outward.
+
+As the roll of the ship brought her head to the level of the port once
+more, she held up her pistol, shook it, and laughed at him:
+
+"Now do you believe that I can shoot?" she called out. "Answer me some
+time when that mocking tongue of yours is free!"
+
+Then, climbing slowly upward into darkness, the light, falling now
+across her body, now athwart her skirt, gilded at last the heels of
+her shoes; suddenly she was gone; then stars glittered through the
+meshes of the shadowy, twitching ladder which still barred the open
+port. And finally the ladder was pulled upward out of sight.
+
+He waited. After a little while--an interminable interval to him--he
+heard somebody stealthily trying the handle of the door; then came a
+pause, silence, followed by a metallic noise as though the lock were
+being explored or picked.
+
+For a while the scraping, metallic sounds continued steadily, then
+abruptly ceased as though the unseen meddler had been interrupted.
+
+A voice--evidently the voice of the lock-picker--pitched to a cautious
+key, was heard in protest as though objecting to some intentions
+evident in the new arrival. Whispered expostulations continued for a
+while, then the voices became quarrelsome and louder; and somebody
+suddenly rapped on the door.
+
+Then a thick, soft voice that he recognised with a chill, grew angrily
+audible:
+
+"I say to you, steward, that I forbid you to entaire that room. I
+forbid you to disturb thees yoong lady. Do you know who I am?"
+
+"I don't care who you are----"
+
+"I have authority. I shall employ it. You shall lose your berth! Thees
+yoong lady within thees room ees my fiancee! I forbid you to enter
+forcibly----"
+
+"Haven't I knocked? Wot's spilin' you? I am doing my duty. Back away
+from this 'ere door, I tell you!"
+
+"You spik thees-a-way, so impolite----"
+
+"Get out o' my way! Blime d'you think I'll stand 'ere jawin' any
+longer?"
+
+"I am membaire of Parliament----"
+
+And the defiant voice of Jim's own little cockney steward retorted,
+interrupting:
+
+"Ahr, stow it! Don't I tell you as how a lydy telephones me just now
+that my young gentleman is in there? Get away from that door, you
+blighter, or I'll bash your beak in!"
+
+The door trembled under a sudden and terrific kick; the wordy quarrel
+ceased; hurried steps retreated along the corridor; a pass key rattled
+in the lock, and the door was flung wide open:
+
+"Mr. Neeland, sir--oh, my Gawd, wot ever 'ave they gone and done, sir,
+to find you 'ere in such a 'orrid state!"
+
+But the little cockney lost no time; fingers and pen-knife flew;
+Neeland, his arms free, tore the bandage from his mouth and spat out
+the wad of cloth.
+
+"I'll do the rest," he gasped, forcing the words from his bruised and
+distorted lips; "follow that man who was outside talking to you! Find
+him if you can. He had been planning to blow up this ship!"
+
+"_That_ man, sir!"
+
+"Yes! Did you know him?"
+
+"Yes, sir; but I darsn't let on to him I knew him--what with 'earing
+that you was in here----"
+
+"You _did_ know him?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"Mr. Neeland, sir, that there cove is wot he says he is, a member of
+Parliament, and his name is Wilson----"
+
+"You're mad! He's an Eurasian, a spy; his name is Karl Breslau--I
+heard it from the others--and he tried to blow up the captain's cabin
+and the bridge with those three bombs lying there on the bed!"
+
+"My God, sir--what you tell me may be so, but what I say is true, sir;
+that gentleman you heard talking outside the door to me is Charles
+Wilson, member of Parliament, representing Glebe and Wotherness; and I
+knew it w'en I 'anded 'im the 'ot stuff!--'strewth I did, sir--and
+took my chance you'd 'elp me out if I got in too rotten with the
+company!"
+
+Neeland said:
+
+"Certainly you may count on me. You're a brick!" He continued to rub
+and slap and pinch his arms and legs to restore the circulation, and
+finally ventured to rise to his shaky feet. The steward offered an
+arm; together they hobbled to the door, summoned another steward,
+placed him in charge of the room, and went on in quest of Captain
+West, to whom an immediate report was now imperative.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+ON HIS WAY
+
+
+The sun hung well above the river mists and threw long, cherry-red
+beams across the choppy channel where clotted jets of steam and smoke
+from tug and steamer drifted with the fog; and still the captain of
+the _Volhynia_ and young Neeland sat together in low-voiced conference
+in the captain's cabin; and a sailor, armed with cutlass and pistol,
+stood outside the locked and bolted door.
+
+Off the port bow, Liverpool spread as far as the eye could see through
+the shredded fog; to starboard, off Birkenhead, through a haze of
+pearl and lavender, the tall phantom of an old-time battleship loomed.
+She was probably one of Nelson's ships, now only an apparition; but to
+Neeland, as he caught sight of her dimly revealed, still dominating
+the water, the old ship seemed like a menacing ghost, never to be laid
+until the sceptre of sea power fell from an enervated empire and the
+glory of Great Britain departed for all time. And in his Yankee heart
+he hoped devoutly that such disaster to the world might never come
+upon it.
+
+Few passengers were yet astir; the tender had not yet come alongside;
+the monstrous city beyond had not awakened.
+
+But a boat manned by Liverpool police lay off the _Volhynia's_ port;
+Neeland's steamer trunk was already in it; and now the captain
+accompanied him to the ladder, where a sailor took his suitcase and
+the olive-wood box and ran down the landing stairs like a monkey.
+
+"Good luck," said the captain of the _Volhynia_. "And keep it in your
+mind every minute that those two men and that woman probably are at
+this moment aboard some German fishing craft, and headed for France.
+
+"Remember, too, that they are merely units in a vast system; that they
+are certain to communicate with other units; that between you and
+Paris are people who will be notified to watch for you, follow you,
+rob you."
+
+Neeland nodded thoughtfully.
+
+The captain said again:
+
+"Good luck! I wish you were free to turn over that box to us. But if
+you've given your word to deliver it in person, the whole matter
+involves, naturally, a point of honour."
+
+"Yes. I have no discretion in the matter, you see." He laughed.
+"You're thinking, Captain West, that I haven't much discretion
+anyway."
+
+"I don't think you have very much," admitted the captain, smiling and
+shaking the hand which Neeland offered. "Well, this is merely one
+symptom of a very serious business, Mr. Neeland. That an attempt
+should actually have been made to murder you and to blow me to pieces
+in my cabin is a slight indication of what a cataclysmic explosion may
+shatter the peace of the entire world at any moment now.... Good-bye.
+And I warn you very solemnly to take this affair as a deadly serious
+one and not as a lark."
+
+They exchanged a firm clasp; then Neeland descended and entered the
+boat; the Inspector of Police took the tiller; the policemen bent to
+the oars, and the boat shot away through a mist which was turning to a
+golden vapour.
+
+It was within a few boat-lengths of the landing stairs that Neeland,
+turning for a last look into the steaming golden glory behind him, saw
+the most splendid sight of his life. And that sight was the British
+Empire assuming sovereignty.
+
+For there, before his eyes, militant, magnificent, the British fleet
+was taking the sea, gliding out to accept its fealty, moving
+majestically in mass after mass of steel under flowing torrents of
+smoke, with the phantom battle flags whipping aloft in the blinding
+smother of mist and sun and the fawning cut-water hurrying too, as
+though even every littlest wave were mobilised and hastening seaward
+in the service of its mistress, Ruler of all Waters, untroubled by a
+man-made Kiel.
+
+And now there was no more time to be lost; no more stops until he
+arrived in Paris. A taxicab rushed him and his luggage across the
+almost empty city; a train, hours earlier than the regular steamer
+train, carried him to London where, as he drove through the crowded,
+sunlit streets, in a hansom cab, he could see news-venders holding up
+strips of paper on which was printed in great, black letters:
+
+ THE BRITISH FLEET SAILS
+
+ SPY IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
+
+ CHARLES WILSON, M. P., ACCUSED
+
+ MISSING MEMBER SUPPOSED TO BE KARL BRESLAU,
+ INTERNATIONAL SPY
+
+And he noticed knots of people pausing to buy the latest editions of
+the papers offered.
+
+But Neeland had no time to see much more of London than that--glimpses
+of stately grey buildings and green trees; of monuments and palaces
+where soldiers in red tunics stood guard; the crush of traffic in the
+city; trim, efficient police, their helmets strapped to their heads,
+disentangling the streams of vehicles, halting, directing everything
+with calm and undisturbed precision; a squadron of cavalry in
+brilliant uniforms leisurely emerging from some park between iron
+railings under stately trees; then the crowded confusion of a railroad
+station, but not the usual incidents of booking and departure, because
+he was to travel by a fast goods train under telegraphed authority of
+the British Government.
+
+And that is about all that Neeland saw of the mightiest city in the
+world on the eve of the greatest conflict among the human races that
+the earth has ever witnessed, or ever shall, D. V.
+
+The flying goods train that took him to the Channel port whence a
+freight packet was departing, offered him the luxury of a leather
+padded armchair in a sealed and grated mail van.
+
+Nobody disturbed him; nobody questioned him; the train officials were
+civil and incurious, and went calmly about their business with all the
+traditional stolidity of official John Bull.
+
+Neeland had plenty of leisure to think as he sat there in his heavy
+chair which vibrated but did not sway very much; and his mind was
+fully occupied with his reflections, for, so far, he had not had time
+to catalogue, index, and arrange them in proper order, so rapid and so
+startling had been the sequence of events since he had left his studio
+in New York for Paris, via Brookhollow, London, and other points
+east.
+
+One thing in particular continued to perplex and astonish him: the
+identity of a member of Parliament, known as Charles Wilson, suddenly
+revealed as Karl Breslau, an international spy.
+
+The wildest flight of fancy of an irresponsible novelist had never
+created such a character in penny-dreadful fiction. It remained
+incomprehensible, almost incredible to Neeland that such a thing could
+be true.
+
+Also, the young man had plenty of food for reflection, if not for
+luncheon, in trying to imagine exactly how Golden Beard and Ali Baba,
+and that strange, illogical young girl, Ilse Dumont, had escaped from
+the _Volhynia_.
+
+Probably, in the darkness, the fishing boat which they expected had
+signalled in some way or other. No doubt the precious trio had taken
+to the water in their life-jackets and had been picked up even before
+armed sailors on the _Volhynia_ descended to their empty state-rooms
+and took possession of what luggage could be discovered, and of the
+three bombs with their charred wicks still soaking on the sopping
+bed.
+
+And now the affair had finally ended, Neeland believed, in spite of
+Captain West's warnings. For how could three industrious conspirators
+in a fishing smack off the Lizard do him any further damage?
+
+If they had managed to relay information concerning him to their
+friends ashore by some set of preconcerted signals, possibly the
+regular steamer train to and out of London might be watched.
+
+Thinking of this, it presently occurred to Neeland that friends in
+France, also, might be stirred up in time to offer him their marked
+attentions. This, no doubt, was what Captain West meant; and Neeland
+considered the possibility as the flying train whirled him toward the
+Channel.
+
+He asked if he might smoke, and was informed that he might; and he
+lighted a cigarette and stretched out on his chair, a little hungry
+from lack of luncheon, a trifle tired from lack of sleep, but, in
+virtue of his vigorous and youthful years, comfortable, contented, and
+happy.
+
+Never, he admitted, had he had such a good time in all his life,
+despite the fact that chance alone, and not his own skill and
+alertness and perspicacity, had saved his neck.
+
+No, he could not congratulate himself on his cleverness and wisdom;
+sheer accident had saved his skin--and once the complex and
+unaccountable vagary of a feminine mind had saved him from
+annihilation so utter that it slightly sickened him to remember his
+position in Ilse Dumont's stateroom as she lifted her pistol and
+coolly made good her boast as a dead-shot. But he forced himself to
+take it lightly.
+
+"Good Lord!" he thought to himself. "Was ever a man in such a hellish
+position, except in melodrama? And _what_ a movie that would have
+made! And what a shot that girl proved herself to be! Certainly she
+could have killed me there at Brookhollow! She could have riddled me
+before I ducked, even with that nickel-plated affair about which I was
+ass enough to taunt her!"
+
+Lying in his chair, cheek on arm, he continued to ponder on what had
+happened, until the monotonous vibration no longer interfered with his
+inclination for a nap. On the contrary, the slight, rhythmic jolting
+soothed him and gradually induced slumber; and he slept there on the
+rushing train, his feet crossed and resting on the olive-wood box.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A hand on his arm aroused him; the sea wind blowing through the open
+doors of the mail-van dashed in his face like a splash of cool water
+as he sat up and looked around him.
+
+As he descended from the van an officer of the freight packet greeted
+him by name; a sailor piled his luggage on a barrow; and Neeland
+walked through the vista of covered docks to the pier.
+
+There was a lively wind whipping that notoriously bad-mannered streak
+of water known as the English Channel. Possibly, had it been
+christened the French Channel its manners might have been more polite.
+But there was now nothing visible about it to justify its sentimental
+pseudonym of Silver Streak.
+
+It was a dirty colour, ominous of ill-temper beyond the great
+breakwater to the northward; and it fretted and fumed inshore and made
+white and ghastly faces from the open sea.
+
+But Neeland, dining from a tray in a portholed pit consecrated to the
+use of a casual supercargo, rejoiced because he adored the sea, inland
+lubber that he had been born and where the tides of fate had stranded
+him. For, to a New Yorker, the sea seems far away--as far as it seems
+to the Parisian. And only when chance business takes him to the
+Battery does a New Yorker realise the nearness of the ocean to that
+vast volume of ceaseless dissonance called New York.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Neeland ate cold meat and bread and cheese, and washed it down with
+bitters.
+
+He was nearly asleep on his sofa when the packet cast off.
+
+He was sound asleep when, somewhere in the raging darkness of the
+Channel, he was hurled from the sofa against the bunk opposite--into
+which he presently crawled and lay, still half asleep, mechanically
+rubbing a maltreated shin.
+
+Twice more the bad-mannered British Channel was violently rude to him;
+each time he crawled back to stick like a limpet in the depths of his
+bunk.
+
+Except when the Channel was too discourteous, he slept as a sea bird
+sleeps afloat, tossing outside thundering combers which batter basalt
+rocks.
+
+Even in his deep, refreshing sea sleep, the subtle sense of
+exhilaration--of well-being--which contact with the sea always brought
+to him, possessed him. And, deep within him, the drop of Irish seethed
+and purred as a kettle purrs through the watches of the night over a
+banked but steady fire.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE ROAD TO PARIS
+
+
+Over the drenched sea wall gulls whirled and eddied above the spouting
+spray; the grey breakwater was smothered under exploding combers;
+_quai_, docks, white-washed lighthouse, swept with spindrift, appeared
+and disappeared through the stormy obscurity as the tender from the
+Channel packet fought its way shoreward with Neeland's luggage lashed
+in the cabin, and Neeland himself sticking to the deck like a fly to a
+frantic mustang, enchanted with the whole business.
+
+For the sea, at last, was satisfying this young man; he savoured now
+what he had longed for as a little boy, guiding a home-made raft on
+the waters of Neeland's mill pond in the teeth of a summer breeze.
+Before he had ever seen the ocean he wanted all it had to give short
+of shipwreck and early decease. He had experienced it on the Channel
+during the night.
+
+There was only one other passenger aboard--a tall, lean, immaculately
+dressed man with a ghastly pallor, a fox face, and ratty eyes, who
+looked like an American and who had been dreadfully sick. Not caring
+for his appearance, Neeland did not speak to him. Besides, he was
+having too good a time to pay attention to anybody or anything except
+the sea.
+
+A sailor had lent Neeland some oilskins and a sou'-wester; and he
+hated to put them off--hated the calmer waters inside the basin where
+the tender now lay rocking; longed for the gale and the heavy seas
+again, sorry the crossing was ended.
+
+He cast a last glance of regret at the white fury raging beyond the
+breakwater as he disembarked among a crowd of porters, _gendarmes_,
+soldiers, and assorted officials; then, following his porter to the
+customs, he prepared to submit to the unvarying indignities incident
+to luggage examination in France.
+
+He had leisure, while awaiting his turn, to buy a novel, "Les
+Bizarettes," of Maurice Bertrand; time, also, to telegraph to the
+Princess Mistchenka. The fox-faced man, who looked like an American,
+was now speaking French like one to a perplexed official, inquiring
+where the Paris train was to be found. Neeland listened to the fluent
+information on his own account, then returned to the customs bench.
+
+But the unusually minute search among his effects did not trouble him;
+the papers from the olive-wood box were buttoned in his breast pocket;
+and after a while the customs officials let him go to the train which
+stood beside an uncovered concrete platform beyond the _quai_, and
+toward which the fox-faced American had preceded him on legs that
+still wobbled with seasickness.
+
+There were no Pullmans attached to the train, only the usual first,
+second, and third class carriages with compartments; and a new style
+corridor car with central aisle and lettered doors to compartments
+holding four.
+
+Into one of these compartments Neeland stepped, hoping for seclusion,
+but backed out again, the place being full of artillery officers
+playing cards.
+
+In vain he bribed the guard, who offered to do his best; but the human
+contents of a Channel passenger steamer had unwillingly spent the
+night in the quaint French port, and the Paris-bound train was already
+full.
+
+The best Neeland could do was to find a seat in a compartment where he
+interrupted conversation between three men who turned sullen heads to
+look at him, resenting in silence the intrusion. One of them was the
+fox-faced man he had already noticed on the packet, tender, and
+customs dock.
+
+But Neeland, whose sojourn in a raw and mannerless metropolis had not
+blotted out all memory of gentler cosmopolitan conventions, lifted his
+hat and smilingly excused his intrusion in the fluent and agreeable
+French of student days, before he noticed that he had to do with men
+of his own race.
+
+None of the men returned his salute; one of them merely emitted an
+irritated grunt; and Neeland recognised that they all must be his own
+delightful country-men--for even the British are more dignified in
+their stolidity.
+
+A second glance satisfied him that all three were undoubtedly
+Americans; the cut of their straw hats and apparel distinguished them
+as such; the nameless grace of Mart, Haffner and Sharx marked the
+tailoring of the three; only Honest Werner could have manufactured
+such headgear; only New York such footwear.
+
+And Neeland looked at them once more and understood that Broadway
+itself sat there in front of him, pasty, close-shaven, furtive,
+sullen-eyed, the _New York Paris Herald_ in its seal-ringed fingers;
+its fancy waistcoat pockets bulging with cigars.
+
+"Sports," he thought to himself; and decided to maintain incognito and
+pass as a Frenchman, if necessary, to escape conversation with the
+three tired-eyed ones.
+
+So he hung up his hat, opened his novel, and settled back to endure
+the trip through the rain, now beginning to fall from a low-sagging
+cloud of watery grey.
+
+After a few minutes the train moved. Later the guard passed and
+accomplished his duties. Neeland inquired politely of him in French
+whether there was any political news, and the guard replied politely
+that he knew of none. But he looked very serious when he said it.
+
+Half an hour from the coast the rain dwindled to a rainbow and ceased;
+and presently a hot sun was gilding wet green fields and hedges and
+glistening roofs which steamed vapour from every wet tile.
+
+Without asking anybody's opinion, one of the men opposite raised the
+window. But Neeland did not object; the rain-washed air was
+deliciously fragrant; and he leaned his elbow on his chair arm and
+looked out across the loveliest land in Europe.
+
+"Say, friend," said an East Side voice at his elbow, "does smoking
+go?"
+
+He glanced back over his shoulder at the speaker--a little, pallid,
+sour-faced man with the features of a sick circus clown and eyes like
+two holes burnt in a lump of dough.
+
+"_Pardon, monsieur?_" he said politely.
+
+"Can't you even pick a Frenchman, Ben?" sneered one of the men
+opposite--a square, smoothly shaven man with slow, heavy-lidded eyes
+of a greenish tinge.
+
+The fox-faced man said:
+
+"He had me fooled, too, Eddie. If Ben Stull didn't get his number it
+don't surprise me none, becuz he was on the damn boat I crossed in,
+and I certainly picked him for New York."
+
+"Aw," said the pasty-faced little man referred to as Ben Stull, "Eddie
+knows it all. He never makes no breaks, of course. You make 'em, Doc,
+but he doesn't. That's why me and him and you is travelling here--this
+minute--because the great Eddie Brandes never makes no breaks----"
+
+"Go on and smoke and shut up," said Brandes, with a slow, sidewise
+glance at Neeland, whose eyes remained fastened on the pages of "Les
+Bizarettes," but whose ears were now very wide open.
+
+"Smoke," repeated Stull, "when this here Frenchman may make a
+holler?"
+
+"Wait till I ask him," said the man addressed as Doc, with dignity.
+And to Neeland:
+
+"_Pardong, musseer, permitty vous moi de fumy ung cigar?_"
+
+"_Mais comment, donc, monsieur! Je vous en prie----_"
+
+"He says politely," translated Doc, "that we can smoke and be damned
+to us."
+
+They lighted three obese cigars; Neeland, his eyes on his page,
+listened attentively and stole a glance at the man they called
+Brandes.
+
+So this was the scoundrel who had attempted to deceive the young girl
+who had come to him that night in his studio, bewildered with what she
+believed to be her hopeless disgrace!
+
+This was the man--this short, square, round-faced individual with his
+minutely shaven face and slow greenish eyes, and his hair combed back
+and still reeking with perfumed tonic--this shiny, scented, and
+overgroomed sport with rings on his fat, blunt fingers and the silk
+laces on his tan oxfords as fastidiously tied as though a valet had
+done it!
+
+Ben Stull began to speak; and presently Neeland discovered that the
+fox-faced man's name was Doc Curfoot; that he had just arrived from
+London on receipt of a telegram from them; and that they themselves
+had landed the night before from a transatlantic liner to await him
+here.
+
+Doc Curfoot checked the conversation, which was becoming general now,
+saying that they'd better be very sure that the man opposite
+understood no English before they became careless.
+
+"_Musseer_," he added suavely to Neeland, who looked up with a polite
+smile, "_parly voo Anglay_?"
+
+"_Je parle Francais, monsieur._"
+
+"I get him," said Stull, sourly. "I knew it anyway. He's got the sissy
+manners of a Frenchy, even if he don't look the part. No white man
+tips his lid to nobody except a swell skirt."
+
+"I seen two dudes do it to each other on Fifth Avenue," remarked
+Curfoot, and spat from the window.
+
+Brandes, imperturbable, rolled his cigar into the corner of his mouth
+and screwed his greenish eyes to narrow slits.
+
+"You got our wire, Doc?"
+
+"Why am I here if I didn't!"
+
+"Sure. Have an easy passage?"
+
+Doc Curfoot's foxy visage still wore traces of the greenish pallor; he
+looked pityingly at Brandes--_self_-pityingly:
+
+"Say, Eddie, that was the worst I ever seen. A freight boat, too. God!
+I was that sick I hoped she'd turn turtle! And nab it from me; if you
+hadn't wired me S O S, I'd have waited over for the steamer train and
+the regular boat!"
+
+"Well, it's S O S all right, Doc. I got a cable from Quint this
+morning saying our place in Paris is ready, and we're to be there and
+open up tonight----"
+
+"_What_ place?" demanded Curfoot.
+
+"Sure, I forgot. You don't know anything yet, do you?"
+
+"Eddie," interrupted Stull, "let me do the talking _this_ time, if
+_you_ please."
+
+And, to Curfoot:
+
+"Listen, Doc. We was up against it. You heard. Every little thing has
+went wrong since Eddie done what he done--every damn thing! Look
+what's happened since Maxy Venem got sore and he and Minna started out
+to get him! Morris Stein takes away the Silhouette Theatre from us and
+we can't get no time for 'Lilith' on Broadway. We go on the road and
+bust. All our Saratoga winnings goes, also what we got invested with
+Parson Smawley when the bulls pulled Quint's----!"
+
+"Ah, f'r the lov' o' Mike!" began Brandes. "Can that stuff!"
+
+"All right, Eddie. I'm tellin' Doc, that's all. I ain't aiming to be
+no crape-hanger; I only want you both to listen to me _this_ time. If
+_you'd_ listened to me before, we'd have been in Saratoga today in our
+own machines. But no; you done what you done--God! Did anyone ever
+hear of such a thing!--taking chances with that little rube from
+Brookhollow--that freckled-faced mill-hand--that yap-skirt! And Minna
+and Max having you watched all the time! You big boob! No--don't
+interrupt! Listen to _me_! Where are you now? You had good money; you
+had a theaytre, you had backing! Quint was doing elegant; Doc and
+Parson and you and me had it all our way and comin' faster every day.
+Wait, I tell you! This ain't a autopsy. This is business. I'm tellin'
+you two guys all this becuz I want you to realise that what Eddie done
+was against my advice. Come on, now; wasn't it?"
+
+"It sure was," admitted Curfoot, removing his cigar from his lean,
+pointed visage of a greyhound, and squinting thoughtfully at the smoke
+eddying in the draught from the open window.
+
+"Am I right, Eddie?" demanded Stull, fixing his black, smeary eyes on
+Brandes.
+
+"Well, go on," returned the latter between thin lips that scarcely
+moved.
+
+"All right, then. Here's the situation, Doc. We're broke. If Quint
+hadn't staked us to this here new game we're playin', where'd we be, I
+ask you?
+
+"We got no income now. Quint's is shut up; Maxy Venem and Minna Minti
+fixed us at Saratoga so we can't go back there for a while. They won't
+let us touch a card on the liners. Every pug is leery of us since
+Eddie flimflammed that Battling Smoke; and I told you he'd holler,
+too! Didn't I?" turning on Brandes, who merely let his slow eyes rest
+on him without replying.
+
+"Go on, Ben," said Curfoot.
+
+"I'm going on. We guys gotta do something----"
+
+"We ought to have fixed Max Venem," said Curfoot coolly.
+
+There was a silence; all three men glanced stealthily at Neeland, who
+quietly turned the page of his book as though absorbed in his story.
+
+"That squealer, Max," continued Curfoot with placid ferocity blazing
+in his eyes, "ought to have been put away. Quint and Parson wanted us
+to have it done. Was it any stunt to get that dirty little shyster in
+some roadhouse last May?"
+
+Brandes said:
+
+"I'm not mixing with any gunmen after the Rosenthal business."
+
+"Becuz a lot of squealers done a amateur job like that, does it say
+that a honest job can't be pulled?" demanded Curfoot. "Did Quint and
+me ask you to go to Dopey or Clabber or Pete the Wop, or any of them
+cheap gangsters?"
+
+"Ah, can the gun-stuff," said Brandes. "I'm not for it. It's punk."
+
+"What's punk?"
+
+"Gun-play."
+
+"Didn't you pull a pop on Maxy Venem the night him and Hyman Adams and
+Minna beat you up in front of the Knickerbocker?"
+
+"Eddie was stalling," interrupted Stull, as Brandes' face turned a
+dull beef-red. "You talk like a bad actor, Doc. There's other ways of
+getting Max in wrong. Guns ain't what they was once. Gun-play is old
+stuff. But listen, now. Quint has staked us and we gotta make good.
+And this is a big thing, though it looks like it was out of our
+line."
+
+"Go on; what's the idea?" inquired Curfoot, interested.
+
+Brandes, the dull red still staining his heavy face, watched the
+flying landscape from the open window.
+
+Stull leaned forward; Curfoot bent his lean, narrow head nearer;
+Neeland, staring fixedly at his open book, pricked up his ears.
+
+"Now," said Stull in a low voice, "I'll tell you guys all Eddie and I
+know about this here business of Captain Quint's. It's like this,
+Doc: Some big feller comes to Quint after they close him up--he won't
+tell who--and puts up this here proposition: Quint is to open a
+elegant place in Paris on the Q. T. In fact, it's ready now. There'll
+be all the backing Quint needs. He's to send over three men he can
+trust--three men who can shoot at a pinch! He picks us three and
+stakes us. Get me?"
+
+Doc nodded.
+
+Brandes said in his narrow-eyed, sleepy way:
+
+"There was a time when they called us gunmen--Ben and me. But, so help
+me God, Doc, we never did any work like that ourselves. We never fired
+a shot to croak any living guy. Did we, Ben?"
+
+"All right," said Stull impatiently. And, to Curfoot: "Eddie and I
+know what we're to do. If it's on the cards that we shoot--well, then,
+we'll shoot. The place is to be small, select, private, and first
+class. Doc, you act as capper. You deal, too. Eddie sets 'em up. I
+deal or spin. All right. We three guys attend to anything American
+that blows our way. Get that?"
+
+Curfoot nodded.
+
+"Then for the foreigners, there's to be a guy called Karl Breslau."
+
+Neeland managed to repress a start, but the blood tingled in his
+cheeks, and he turned his head a trifle as though seeking better light
+on the open pages in his hands.
+
+"This here man Breslau," continued Stull, "speaks all kinds of
+languages. He is to have two friends with him, a fellow named Kestner
+and one called Weishelm. They trim the foreigners, they do; and----"
+
+"Well, I don't see nothing new about this----" began Curfoot; but
+Stull interrupted:
+
+"Wait, can't you! This ain't the usual. We run a place for Quint. The
+place is like Quint's. We trim guys same as he does--or did. _But
+there's more to it._"
+
+He let his eyes rest on Neeland, obliquely, for a full minute. The
+others watched him, too. Presently the young man cut another page of
+his book with his pen-knife and turned it with eager impatience, as
+though the story absorbed him.
+
+"Don't worry about Frenchy," murmured Brandes with a shrug. "Go ahead,
+Ben."
+
+Stull laid one hand on Curfoot's shoulder, drawing that gentleman a
+trifle nearer and sinking his voice:
+
+"Here's the new stuff, Doc," he said. "And it's brand new to us, too.
+There's big money into it. Quint swore we'd get ours. And as we was on
+our uppers we went in. It's like this: We lay for Americans from the
+Embassy or from any of the Consulates. They are our special game. It
+ain't so much that we trim them; we also get next to them; we make 'em
+talk right out in church. Any political dope they have we try to get.
+We get it any way we can. If they'll accelerate we accelerate 'em; if
+not, we dope 'em and take their papers. The main idee is to get a holt
+on 'em!
+
+"That's what Quint wants; that's what he's payin' for and gettin' paid
+for--inside information from the Embassy and Consulates----"
+
+"What does Quint want of that?" demanded Curfoot, astonished.
+
+"How do I know? Blackmail? Graft? I can't call the dope. But listen
+here! Don't forget that it ain't Quint who wants it. It's the big
+feller behind him who's backin' him. It's some swell guy higher up
+who's payin' Quint. And Quint, he pays us. So where's the squeal
+coming?"
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"Where's the holler?" insisted Stull.
+
+"I ain't hollerin', am I? Only this here is new stuff to me----"
+
+"Listen, Doc. I don't know what it is, but all these here European
+kings is settin' watchin' one another like toms in a back alley. I
+think that some foreign political high-upper wants dope on what our
+people are finding out over here. Like this, he says to himself: 'I
+hear this Kink is building ten sooper ferry boats. If that's right, I
+oughta know. And I hear that the Queen of Marmora has ordered a
+million new nifty fifty-shot bean-shooters for the boy scouts! That is
+indeed serious news!' So he goes to his broker, who goes to a big
+feller, who goes to Quint, who goes to us. Flag me?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"That's all. There's nothing to it, Doc. Says Quint to us: 'Trim a few
+guys for me and get their letters,' says Quint; 'and there's somethin'
+in it for me and you!' And _that's_ the new stuff, Doc."
+
+"You mean we're spies?"
+
+"Spies? I don't know. We're on a salary. We get a big bonus for every
+letter we find on the carpet----" He winked at Curfoot and relighted
+his cigar.
+
+"Say," said the latter, "it's like a creeping joint. It's a panel
+game, Ben----"
+
+"It's politics like they play 'em in Albany, only it's ambassadors and
+kinks we trim, not corporations."
+
+"_We_ can't do it! What the hell do we know about kinks and
+attaches?"
+
+"No; Weishelm, Breslau and Kestner do that. We lay for the attaches or
+spin or deal or act handy at the bar and buffet with homesick
+Americans. No; the fine work--the high-up stuff, is done by Breslau
+and Weishelm. And I guess there's some fancy skirts somewhere in the
+game. But they're silent partners; and anyway Weishelm manages that
+part."
+
+Curfoot, one lank knee over the other, swung his foot thoughtfully to
+and fro, his ratty eyes lost in dreamy revery. Brandes tossed his
+half-consumed cigar out of the open window and set fire to another.
+Stull waited for Curfoot to make up his mind. After several minutes
+the latter looked up from his cunning abstraction:
+
+"Well, Ben, put it any way you like, but we're just plain political
+spies. And what the hell do they hand us over here if we're pinched?"
+
+"I don't know. What of it?"
+
+"Nothing. If there's good money in it, I'll take a chance."
+
+"There is. Quint backs us. When we get 'em coming----"
+
+"Ah," said Doc with a wry face, "that's all right for the cards or the
+wheel. But this pocket picking----"
+
+"Say; that ain't what I mean. It's like this: Young Fitznoodle of the
+Embassy staff gets soused and starts out lookin' for a quiet game. We
+furnish the game. We don't go through his pockets; we just pick up
+whatever falls out and take shorthand copies. Then back go the letters
+into Fitznoodle's pocket----"
+
+"Yes. Who reads 'em first?"
+
+"Breslau. Or some skirt, maybe."
+
+"What's Breslau?"
+
+"Search _me_. He's a Dutchman or a Rooshian or some sort of Dodo. What
+do you care?"
+
+"I don't. All right, Ben. You've got to show me; that's all."
+
+"Show you what?"
+
+"Spot cash!"
+
+"You're in when you handle it?"
+
+"If you show me real money--yes."
+
+"You're on. I'll cash a cheque of Quint's for you at Monroe's soon as
+we hit the asphalt! And when you finish counting out your gold nickels
+put 'em in your pants and play the game! Is that right?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They exchanged a wary handshake; then, one after another, they leaned
+back in their seats with the air of honest men who had done their
+day's work.
+
+Curfoot blinked at Brandes, at his excessively groomed person, at his
+rings.
+
+"You _look_ prosperous, Eddie."
+
+"It's his business to," remarked Stull.
+
+Brandes yawned:
+
+"It would be a raw deal if there's a war over here," he said
+listlessly.
+
+"Ah," said Curfoot, "there won't be none."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"The Jews and bankers won't let these kinks mix it."
+
+"That's right, too," nodded Brandes.
+
+But Stull said nothing and his sour, pasty visage turned sourer. It
+was the one possibility that disturbed him--the only fly in the
+amber--the only mote that troubled his clairvoyance. Also, he was the
+only man among the three who didn't think a thing was certain to
+happen merely because he wanted it to happen.
+
+There was another matter, too, which troubled him. Brandes was
+unreliable. And who but little Stull should know how unreliable?
+
+For Brandes had always been that. And now Stull knew him to be more
+than that--knew him to be treacherous.
+
+Whatever in Brandes had been decent, or had, blindly perhaps, aspired
+toward decency, was now in abeyance. Something within him had gone to
+smash since Minna Minti had struck him that night in the frightened
+presence of Rue Carew.
+
+And from that night, when he had lost the only woman who had ever
+stirred in him the faintest aspiration to better things, the man had
+gradually changed. Whatever in his nature had been unreliable became
+treacherous; his stolidity became sullenness. A slow ferocity burned
+within him; embers of a rage which no brooding ever quenched slumbered
+red in his brain until his endless meditation became a monomania. And
+his monomania was the ruin of this woman who had taken from him in the
+very moment of consummation all that he had ever really loved in the
+world--a thin, awkward, freckled, red-haired country girl, in whom,
+for the first and only time in all his life, he saw the vague and
+phantom promise of that trinity which he had never known--a wife, a
+child, and a home.
+
+He sat there by the car window glaring out of his dull green eyes at
+the pleasant countryside, his thin lips tightening and relaxing on his
+cigar.
+
+Curfoot, still pondering over the "new stuff" offered him, brooded
+silently in his corner, watching the others out of his tiny, bright
+eyes.
+
+"Do anything in London?" inquired Stull.
+
+"No."
+
+"Who was you working for?"
+
+"A jock and a swell skirt. But Scotland Yard got next and chased the
+main guy over the water."
+
+"What was your lay?"
+
+"Same thing. I dealt for the jock and the skirt trimmed the squabs."
+
+"Anybody holler?"
+
+"Aw--the kind we squeezed was too high up to holler. Them young lords
+take their medicine like they wanted it. They ain't like the home
+bunch that is named after swell hotels."
+
+After a silence he looked up at Brandes:
+
+"What ever become of Minna Minti?" he asked.
+
+Brandes' heavy features remained stolid.
+
+"She got her divorce, didn't she?" insisted Curfoot.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Alimony?"
+
+"No. She didn't ask any."
+
+"How about Venem?"
+
+Brandes remained silent, but Stull said:
+
+"I guess she chucked him. She wouldn't stand for that snake. I got to
+hand it to her; she ain't that kind."
+
+"What kind is she?"
+
+"I tell you I got to hand it to her. I can't complain of her. She
+acted white all right until Venem stirred her up. Eddie's got himself
+to blame; he got in wrong and Venem had him followed and showed him up
+to Minna."
+
+"You got tired of her, didn't you?" said Curfoot to Brandes. But Stull
+answered for him again:
+
+"Like any man, Eddie needed a vacation now and then. But no skirt
+understands."
+
+Brandes said slowly:
+
+"I'll live to fix Minna yet."
+
+"What fixed you," snapped Stull, "was that there Brookhollow
+stuff----"
+
+"Can it!" retorted Brandes, turning a deep red.
+
+"Aw--don't hand me the true-love stuff, Eddie! If you'd meant it with
+that little haymaker you'd have respected her----"
+
+Brandes' large face became crimson with rage:
+
+"You say another word about her and I'll push your block off--you
+little dough-faced kike!"
+
+Stull shrugged and presently whispered to Curfoot:
+
+"That's the play he always makes. I've waited two years, but he won't
+ring down on the love stuff. I guess he was hit hard that trip. It
+took a little red-headed, freckled country girl to stop him. But it
+was comin' to Eddie Brandes, and it certainly looks like it was there
+to stay a while."
+
+"He's still stuck on her?"
+
+"I guess she's still the fly paper," nodded Stull.
+
+Suddenly Brandes turned on Stull such a look of concentrated hatred
+that the little gambler's pallid features stiffened with surprise:
+
+"Ben," said Brandes in a low voice, which was too indistinct for
+Neeland to catch, "I'll tell you something now that you don't know. I
+saw Quint alone; I talked with him. Do you know who is handling the
+big stuff in this deal?"
+
+"Who?" asked Stull, amazed.
+
+"The Turkish Embassy in Paris. And do you know who plays the fine
+Italian hand for that bunch of Turks?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Minna!"
+
+"You're crazy!"
+
+Brandes took no notice, but went on with a sort of hushed ferocity
+that silenced both Stull and Curfoot:
+
+"That's why I went in. To get Minna. And I'll get her if it costs
+every cent I've got or ever hope to get. That's why I'm in this deal;
+that's why I came; that's why I'm here telling you this. I'm in it to
+get Minna, not for the money, not for anything in all God's world
+except to get the woman who has done what Minna did to me."
+
+Neeland listened in vain to the murmuring voice; he could not catch a
+word.
+
+Stull whispered:
+
+"Aw, f'r God's sake, Eddie, that ain't the game. Do you want to
+double-cross Quint?"
+
+"I _have_ double-crossed him."
+
+"What! Do you mean to sell him out?"
+
+"I _have_ sold him out."
+
+"Jesus! Who to?"
+
+"To the British Secret Service. And there's to be one hundred thousand
+dollars in it, Doc, for you and me to divide. And fifty thousand more
+when we put the French bulls on to Minna and Breslau. Now, how does
+one hundred and fifty thousand dollars against five thousand apiece
+strike you two poor, cheap guys?"
+
+But the magnitude of Brandes' treachery and the splendour of the deal
+left the two gamblers stunned.
+
+Only by their expressions could Neeland judge that they were
+discussing matters of vital importance to themselves and probably to
+him. He listened; he could not hear what they were whispering. And
+only at intervals he dared glance over his book in their direction.
+
+"Well," said Brandes under his breath, "go on. Spit it out. What's the
+squeal?"
+
+"My God!" whispered Stull. "Quint will kill you."
+
+Brandes laughed unpleasantly:
+
+"Not me, Ben. I've got that geezer where I want him on a dirty deal he
+pulled off with the police."
+
+Curfoot turned his pointed muzzle toward the window and sneered at the
+sunny landscape.
+
+A few minutes later, far across the rolling plain set with villas and
+farms, and green with hedgerows, gardens, bouquets of trees and
+cultivated fields, he caught sight of a fairy structure outlined
+against the sky. Turning to Brandes:
+
+"There's the Eiffel Tower," remarked Curfoot. "Where are we stopping,
+Eddie?"
+
+"Caffy des Bulgars."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"It's where we go to work--Roo Vilna."
+
+Stull's smile was ghastly, but Curfoot winked at Brandes.
+
+Neeland listened, his eyes following the printed pages of his book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+CUP AND LIP
+
+
+Through the crowded Paris terminal Neeland pushed his way, carrying
+the olive-wood box in his hand and keeping an eye on his porter, who
+preceded him carrying the remainder of his luggage and repeating:
+
+"_Place, s'il vous plait, m'sieu', dames!_"
+
+To Neeland it was like a homecoming after many years' exile; the
+subtle but perfectly specific odour of Paris assailed his nostrils
+once again; the rapid, emphatic, lively language of France sounded
+once more delightfully in his eager ears; vivacity and intelligence
+sparkled in every eye that met his own. It was a throng of rapid
+movement, of animated speech, of gesticulation. And, as it was in the
+beginning when he first arrived there as a student, he fell in love
+with it at first sight and contact.
+
+All around him moved porters, passengers, railroad officials; the red
+_kepis_ of soldiers dotted the crowd; a priest or two in shovel hat
+and buckled shoes, a Sister of Charity from the Rue de Bac lent graver
+accents to the throng; and everywhere were the pretty bourgeois women
+of the capital gathered to welcome relatives or friends, or themselves
+starting on some brief summer voyage so dear to those who seldom find
+it in their hearts to leave Paris for longer than a fortnight at a
+time.
+
+As he pressed onward he witnessed characteristic reunions between
+voyagers and friends who awaited them--animated, cordial, gay scenes
+complicated by many embraces on both cheeks.
+
+And, of a sudden, he noticed the prettiest girl he had ever seen in
+his life. She was in white, with a black straw hat, and her face and
+figure were lovely beyond words. Evidently she was awaiting friends;
+there was a charming expectancy on her fresh young face, a slight
+forward inclination of her body, as though expectancy and happy
+impatience alone controlled her.
+
+Her beauty almost took his breath away.
+
+"Lord!" he thought to himself. "If such a girl as that ever stood
+waiting for me----"
+
+At the same moment her golden-grey eyes, sweeping the passing crowd,
+met his; a sharp thrill of amazement passed through him as she held
+out both gloved hands with a soft exclamation of recognition:
+
+"Jim! Jim Neeland!"
+
+"Rue Carew!" He could scarcely credit his eyesight, where he stood,
+hat in hand, holding both her little hands in one of his.
+
+No, there was no use in trying to disguise his astonishment. He looked
+into the face of this tall young girl, searched it for familiar
+features, recognised a lovely paraphrase of the freckled face and thin
+figure he remembered, and remained dumb before this radiant
+reincarnation of that other unhappy, shabby, and meagre child he had
+known two years ago.
+
+Ruhannah, laughing and flushed, withdrew her hands.
+
+"Have I changed? You haven't. And I always thought you the most
+wonderful and ornamental young man on this planet. I knew you at once,
+Jim Neeland. Would you have passed without recognising me?"
+
+"Perhaps I wouldn't have passed after seeing you----"
+
+"Jim Neeland! What a remark!" She laughed. "Anyway, it's nice to
+believe myself attractive enough to be noticed. And I'm _so_ glad to
+see you. Naia is here, somewhere, watching for you"--turning her
+pretty, eager head to search for the Princess Mistchenka. "Oh, there
+she is! She doesn't see us----"
+
+They made their way between the passing ranks of passengers and
+porters; the Princess caught sight of them, came hastily toward them.
+
+"Jim! It's nice to see you. Thank you for coming! So _you_, found him,
+Rue? How are you, Jim? And where is the olive-wood box?"
+
+"I'm well, and there's that devilish box!" he replied, laughing and
+lifting it in his hand to exhibit it. "Naia, the next time you want
+it, send an escort of artillery and two battleships!"
+
+"Did you have trouble?"
+
+"Trouble? I had the time of my life. No moving picture can ever again
+excite me; no best seller. I've been both since I had your cable to
+get this box and bring it to you."
+
+He laughed as he spoke, but the Princess continued to regard him very
+seriously, and Rue Carew's smile came and waned like sunlight in a
+wood, for she was not quite sure whether he had really encountered any
+dangers on this mission which he had fulfilled so well.
+
+"Our car is waiting outside," said the Princess. "Where is your
+porter, Jim?"
+
+Neeland glanced about him, discovered the porter, made a sign for him
+to follow, and they moved together toward the entrance to the huge
+terminal.
+
+"I haven't decided where to stop yet," began Neeland, but the Princess
+checked him with a pretty gesture:
+
+"You stop with us, Jim."
+
+"Thank you so much, but----"
+
+"Please. Must I beg of you?"
+
+"Do you really wish it?"
+
+"Certainly," she replied absently, glancing about her. She added: "I
+don't see my car. I don't see my footman. I told him to wait here.
+Rue, do you see him anywhere?"
+
+"No, I don't," said the girl.
+
+"How annoying!" said the Princess. "He's a new man. My own footman was
+set upon and almost killed by Apaches a week ago. So I had to find a
+substitute. How stupid of him! Where on earth can he be waiting?"
+
+They traversed the court of the terminal. Many automobiles were parked
+there or just leaving; liveried footmen stood awaiting masters and
+mistresses; but nowhere was the car of the Princess Mistchenka in
+sight.
+
+They stood there, Neeland's porter behind with his suitcase and
+luggage, not knowing whether to wait longer or summon a taxicab.
+
+"I don't understand," repeated the Princess impatiently. "I explained
+very carefully what I desired. That new groom is stupid. Caron, my
+chauffeur, would never have made a mistake unless that idiot groom
+misunderstood his instructions."
+
+"Let me go and make some inquiries," said Neeland. "Do you mind
+waiting here? I'll not be long----"
+
+He went off, carrying the olive-wood box, which his grasp never
+quitted now; and presently the Princess and Ruhannah saw him disappear
+among the ranks of automobiles and cabs.
+
+"I don't like it, Rue," repeated the Princess in a low voice. "I
+neither understand nor relish this situation."
+
+"Have you any idea----"
+
+"Hush, child! I don't know. That new groom, Verdier, was recommended
+by the Russian Embassy. I don't know what to think of this."
+
+"It _can't_ be anything--queer, can it, dear?" asked Rue.
+
+"Anything _can_ have happened. Nothing is likely to have occurred,
+however--unless--unless those Apaches were----"
+
+"Naia!"
+
+"It's possible, I suppose. They may have attacked Picard as part of a
+conspiracy. The Russian Embassy may have been deceived in Verdier. All
+this may be part of a plan. But--I scarcely believe it.... All the
+same, I dislike to take a taxicab----"
+
+She caught sight of Neeland returning; both women moved forward to
+meet him.
+
+"I've solved the mystery," he said. "Naia, your car was run into
+outside the station a few minutes after you left it. And I'm sorry to
+say that your chauffeur was badly enough hurt to require an
+ambulance."
+
+"Where on earth did you learn that?"
+
+"The official at the taxicab control told me. I went to him because
+that is where one is likely to receive information."
+
+"Caron hurt!" murmured the Princess. "What a shame! Where did they
+take him, Jim?"
+
+"To the Charite."
+
+"I'll go this afternoon. But where is that imbecile groom of mine?"
+
+"It appears that he and a policeman went to a garage on the repair
+truck that took your car."
+
+"Was he arrested?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"What a _contretemps_!" exclaimed the Princess Mistchenka. "We shall
+have to take a taxicab after all!"
+
+"I've ordered one from the control. There it comes now," said Neeland,
+as a brand new taxicab, which looked like a private car, drew up at
+the curb, and a smiling and very spick and span chauffeur saluted.
+
+Neeland's porter hoisted trunk and suitcase on top; the Princess
+stepped into the limousine, followed by Rue and Neeland; the chauffeur
+took the order, started his car, wheeled out into the square, circled
+the traffic policeman, and whizzed away into the depths of the most
+beautiful city in the world.
+
+Neeland, seated with his back to the driver, laid the olive-wood box
+on his knees, unlocked it, drew from his breast pocket the papers he
+carried; locked them in the box once more, and looked up laughingly at
+the Princess and Ruhannah as he placed it at his feet.
+
+"There you are!" he said. "Thank heaven my task and your affair have
+been accomplished. All the papers are there--and," to Ruhannah, "that
+pretty gentleman you call the Yellow Devil is inside, along with some
+assorted firearms, drawing instruments, and photographs. The whole
+business is here, intact--and so am I--if that irrelevant detail
+should interest you."
+
+Rue smiled her answer; the Princess scrutinised him keenly:
+
+"Did you have trouble, Jim?"
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+"Serious trouble?"
+
+"I tell you it was like a movie in five reels. Never before did I
+believe such things happened outside a Yonkers studio. But they do,
+Naia. And I've learned that the world is full of more excitingly
+melodramatic possibilities than any novel or scenario ever
+contained."
+
+"You're not serious, of course," began Rue Carew, watching the varying
+expressions on his animated features; but the Princess Mistchenka
+said, unsmiling:
+
+"A film melodrama is a crude and tawdry thing compared to the real
+drama so many of us play in every moment of our lives."
+
+Neeland said to Rue, lightly:
+
+"That is true as far as I have been concerned with that amazing box.
+It's full of the very devil--of that Yellow Devil! When I pick it up
+now I seem to feel a premonitory tingling all over me--not entirely
+disagreeable," he added to the Princess, "but the sort of half-scared
+exhilaration a man feels who takes a chance and is quite sure he'll
+not have another chance if he loses. Do you understand what I mean?"
+
+"Yes," said the Princess unsmilingly, her clear, pleasant eyes fixed
+on him.
+
+In her tranquil, indefinite expression there was something which made
+him wonder how many such chances this pretty woman had taken in her
+life of intellectual pleasure and bodily ease.
+
+And now he remembered that Ilse Dumont apparently knew about
+her--about Ruhannah, too. And Ilse Dumont was the agent of a foreign
+government.
+
+Was the Princess Mistchenka, patron and amateur of the arts, another
+such agent? If not, why had he taken this journey for her with this
+box of papers?
+
+The passage of the Boulevard was slow; at every square traffic was
+halted; all Paris crowded the streets in the early afternoon sunshine,
+and the taxicab in which they sat made little speed until the Place de
+la Concorde opened out and the great Arc--a tiny phantom of lavender
+and pearl--spanned the vanishing point of a fairy perspective between
+parallel and endless ramparts of tender green.
+
+"There was a lot of war talk on the _Volhynia_," said Neeland, "but I
+haven't heard any since I landed, nor have I seen a paper. I suppose
+the Chancelleries have come to some agreement."
+
+"No," said the Princess.
+
+"You don't expect trouble, do you? I mean a general European
+free-for-all fight?"
+
+"I don't know, Jim."
+
+"Haven't you," he asked blandly, "any means of acquiring inside
+information?"
+
+She did not even pretend to evade the good-humoured malice of his
+smile and question:
+
+"Yes; I have sources of private information. I have learned nothing,
+so far."
+
+He looked at Rue, but the smile had faded from her face and she
+returned his questioning gaze gravely.
+
+"There is great anxiety in Europe," she said in a low voice, "and the
+tension is increasing. When we arrive home we shall have a chance to
+converse more freely." She made the slightest gesture with her head
+toward the chauffeur--a silent reminder and a caution.
+
+The Princess nodded slightly:
+
+"One never knows," she remarked. "We shall have much to say to one
+another when we are safely home."
+
+But Neeland could not take it very seriously here in the sunshine,
+with two pretty women facing him--here speeding up the Champs Elysees
+between the endless green of chestnut trees and the exquisite
+silvery-grey facades of the wealthy--with motors flashing by on every
+side and the cool, leafy alleys thronged with children and
+nurse-maids, and Monsieur Guignol squeaking and drumming in his
+red-curtained box!
+
+How could a young man believe in a sequel to the almost incredible
+melodrama in which he had figured, with such a sane and delightful
+setting, here in the familiar company of two charming women he had
+known?
+
+Besides, all Paris and her police were at his elbow; the olive-wood
+box stood between his knees; a smartly respectable taxi and its driver
+drove them with the quiet _eclat_ and precision of a private
+_employe_; the Arc de Triomphe already rose splendidly above them, and
+everything that had once been familiar and reassuring and delightful
+lay under his grateful eyes on every side.
+
+And now the taxicab turned into the rue Soleil d'Or--a new street to
+Neeland, opened since his student days, and only one square long, with
+a fountain in the middle and young chestnut trees already thickly
+crowned with foliage lining both sides of the street.
+
+But although the rue Soleil d'Or was a new street to him, Paris
+construction is also a rapid affair. The street was faced by charming
+private houses built of grey Caen stone; the fountain with its golden
+sun-dial, with the seated figure--a life-size replica of Manship's
+original in the Metropolitan Museum--serenely and beautifully holding
+its place between the Renaissance facades and rows of slender trees.
+
+Summer had not yet burned foliage or flowers; the freshness of spring
+itself seemed still to reign there.
+
+Three blue-bloused street-sweepers with hose and broom were washing
+the asphalt as their cab slowed down, sounding its horn to warn them
+out of the way. And, the spouting hose still in their hands, the
+street-cleaners stepped out of the gutter before the pretty private
+hotel of Madame la Princesse.
+
+Already a butler was opening the _grille_; already the chauffeur had
+swung Neeland's steamer trunk and suitcase to the sidewalk; already
+the Princess and Rue were advancing to the house, while Neeland
+fumbled in his pocket for the fare.
+
+The butler, bowing, relieved him of the olive-wood box. At the same
+instant the blue-bloused man with the hose turned the powerful stream
+of water directly into the butler's face, knocking him flat on the
+sidewalk; and his two comrades tripped up Neeland, passed a red sash
+over his head, and hurled him aside, blinded, half strangled,
+staggering at random, tearing furiously at the wide band of woollen
+cloth which seemed to suffocate him.
+
+Already the chauffeur had tossed the olive-wood box into the cab; the
+three blue-bloused men sprang in after it; the chauffeur slipped into
+his seat, threw in the clutch, and, driving with one hand, turned a
+pistol on the half drowned butler, who had reeled to his feet and was
+lurching forward to seize the steering wheel.
+
+The taxicab, gathering speed, was already turning the corner of the
+rue de la Lune when Neeland managed to free throat and eyes from the
+swathe of woollen.
+
+The butler, checked by the levelled pistol, stood dripping, still
+almost blinded by the force of the water from the hose; but he had
+plenty of pluck, and he followed Neeland on a run to the corner of the
+street.
+
+The street was absolutely empty, except for the sparrows, and the big,
+fat, slate-coloured pigeons that strutted and coo-cooed under the
+shadow of the chestnut trees.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+RUE SOLEIL D'OR
+
+
+Marotte, the butler, in dry clothes, had served luncheon--a silent,
+respectable, self-respecting man, calm in his fury at the incredible
+outrage perpetrated upon his person.
+
+And now luncheon was over; the Princess at the telephone in her
+boudoir; Rue in the music-room with Neeland, still excited, anxious,
+confused.
+
+Astonishment, mortification, anger, had left Neeland silent; and the
+convention known as luncheon had not appealed to him.
+
+But very little was said during that formality; and in the silence the
+serious nature of the episode which so suddenly had deprived the
+Princess of the olive-wood box and the papers it contained impressed
+Neeland more and more deeply.
+
+The utter unexpectedness of the outrage--the helpless figure he had
+cut--infuriated him. And the more he reflected the madder he grew when
+he realised that all he had gone through meant nothing now--that every
+effort had been sterile, every hour wasted, every step he had taken
+from Brookhollow to Paris--to the very doorstep where his duty
+ended--had been taken in vain.
+
+It seemed to him in his anger and humiliation that never had any man
+been so derided, so heartlessly mocked by the gods.
+
+And now, as he sat there behind lowered blinds in the cool half-light
+of the music-room, he could feel the hot blood of resentment and
+chagrin in his cheeks.
+
+"Nobody could have foreseen it," repeated Rue Carew in a pretty,
+bewildered voice. "And if the Princess Naia had no suspicions, how
+could I harbour any--or how could you?"
+
+"I've been sufficiently tricked--or I thought I had been--to be on my
+guard. But it seems not. I ought never to have been caught in such a
+disgusting trap--such a simple, silly, idiotic cage! But--good Lord!
+How on earth was a man to suspect anything so--so naturally planned
+and executed--so simply done. It was an infernal masterpiece, Rue.
+But--that is no consolation to a man who has been made to appear like
+a monkey!"
+
+The Princess, entering, overheard; and she seated herself and looked
+tranquilly at Neeland as he resumed his place on the sofa.
+
+"You were not to blame, Jim," she said. "It was my fault. I had
+warning enough at the railroad terminal when an accident to my car was
+reported to me by the control through you." She added, calmly: "There
+was no accident."
+
+"No accident?" exclaimed Neeland, astonished.
+
+"None at all. My new footman, who followed us to the waiting salon for
+incoming trains, returned to my chauffeur, Caron, saying that he was
+to go back to the garage and await orders. I have just called the
+garage and I had Caron on the wire. There was no accident; he has not
+been injured; and--the new footman has disappeared!"
+
+"It was a clear case of treachery?" exclaimed Neeland.
+
+"Absolutely a plot. The pretended official at the terminal control
+was an accomplice of my footman, of the taxicab driver, of the
+pretended street-cleaners--and of whom else I can, perhaps, imagine."
+
+"Did you call the terminal control?"
+
+"I did. The official in charge and the starter had seen no such
+accident; had given no such information. Some masquerader in uniform
+must have intercepted you, Jim."
+
+"I found him coming toward me on the sidewalk not far from the
+kiosque. He was in uniform; I never dreamed he was not the genuine
+thing."
+
+"There is no blame attached to you----"
+
+"Naia, it actually sickens me to discover how little sense I possess.
+I've been through enough to drive both suspicion and caution into this
+wooden head of mine----"
+
+"What have you been through, Jim?" asked the Princess calmly.
+
+"I'll tell you. I didn't play a brilliant role, I'm sorry to admit.
+Not common sense but sheer luck pulled me through as far as your own
+doorstep. And there," he added disgustedly, "the gods no doubt grew
+tired of such an idiot, and they handed me what was coming to me."
+
+He was so thoroughly and so boyishly ashamed and angry with himself
+that a faint smile flitted over the Princess Naia's lips.
+
+"Proceed, James," she said.
+
+"All right. Only first may I ask--who is Ilse Dumont?"
+
+For a moment the Princess sat silent, expressionless, intent on the
+man whose clear, inquiring eyes still questioned her.
+
+The Princess finally answered with a question:
+
+"Did _she_ cause you any trouble, Jim?"
+
+"Every bit I had was due to her. Also--and here's a paradox--I
+shouldn't be here now if Ilse Dumont had not played square with me.
+Who is she?"
+
+The Princess Naia did not reply immediately. Instead, she dropped one
+silken knee over the other, lighted a cigarette, and sat for a few
+moments gazing into space. Then:
+
+"Ilse Dumont," she said, "is a talented and exceedingly pretty young
+woman who was born in Alsace of one German and one thoroughly
+Germanised parent.
+
+"She played two seasons in Chicago in light opera under another name.
+She had much talent, an acceptable voice and she became a local
+favourite."
+
+The Princess looked at her cigarette; continued speaking as though
+addressing it:
+
+"She sang at the Opera Comique here in Paris the year before last and
+last year. Her roles were minor ones. Early this spring she abruptly
+broke her contract with the management and went to New York."
+
+Neeland said bluntly:
+
+"Ilse Dumont is an agent in the service of the Turkish Government."
+
+The Princess nodded.
+
+"Did you know it, Naia?"
+
+"I began to suspect it recently."
+
+"May I ask how?"
+
+The Princess glanced at Rue and smiled:
+
+"Ruhannah's friend, Colonel Izzet Bey, was very devoted to Minna
+Minti----"
+
+"To _whom_!" exclaimed Neeland, astounded.
+
+"To Ilse Dumont. Minna Minti is her stage name," said the Princess.
+
+Neeland turned and looked at Rue, who, conscious of his excitement,
+flushed brightly, yet never suspecting what he was about to say.
+
+The Princess said quietly:
+
+"Yes, tell her, Jim. It is better she should know. Until now it has
+not been necessary to mention the matter, or I should have done so."
+
+Rue, surprised, still prettily flushed with expectancy, looked with
+new curiosity from one to the other.
+
+Neeland said:
+
+"Ilse Dumont, known on the stage as Minna Minti, is the divorced wife
+of Eddie Brandes."
+
+At the mention of a name so long hidden away, buried in her memory,
+and almost forgotten, the girl quivered and straightened up, as though
+an electric shock had passed through her body.
+
+Then a burning colour flooded her face as at the swift stroke of a
+lash, and her grey eyes glimmered with the starting tears.
+
+"You'll have to know it, darling," said the Princess in a low voice.
+"There is no reason why you should not; it no longer can touch you.
+Don't you know that?"
+
+"Y-yes----" Ruhannah's slowly drooping head was lifted again; held
+high; and the wet brilliancy slowly dried in her steady eyes.
+
+"Before I tell you," continued Neeland, "what happened to me through
+Ilse Dumont, I must tell you what occurred in the train on my way to
+Paris.... May I have a cigarette, Princess Naia?"
+
+"At your elbow in that silver box."
+
+Rue Carew lighted it for him with a smile, but her hand still
+trembled.
+
+"First," he said, "tell me what particular significance those papers
+in the olive-wood box have. Then I can tell you more intelligently
+what happened to me since I went to Brookhollow to find them."
+
+"They are the German plans for the fortification of the mainland
+commanding the Dardanelles, and for the forts dominating the Gallipoli
+peninsula."
+
+"Yes, I know that. But of what interest to England or France or
+Russia----"
+
+"If there is to be war, can't you understand the importance to us of
+those plans?" asked the Princess in a low, quiet voice.
+
+"To--'us'?" he repeated.
+
+"Yes, to _us_. I am Russian, am I not?"
+
+"Yes. I now understand how very Russian you are, Princess. But what
+has Turkey----"
+
+"What _is_ Turkey?"
+
+"An empire----"
+
+"No. A German province."
+
+"I did not know----"
+
+"That is what the Ottoman Empire is today," continued the Princess
+Mistchenka, "a Turkish province fortified by Berlin, governed from
+Berlin through a Germanised Turk, Enver Pasha; the army organised,
+drilled, equipped, officered, and paid by the Kaiser Wilhelm; every
+internal resource and revenue and development and projected
+development mortgaged to Germany and under German control; and the
+Sultan a nobody!"
+
+"I did not know it," repeated Neeland.
+
+"It is the truth, _mon ami_. It is inevitable that Turkey fights if
+Germany goes to war. England, France, Russia know it. Ask yourself,
+then, how enormous to us the value of those plans--tentative, sketchy,
+perhaps, yet the inception and foundation of those German-made and
+German-armed fortifications which today line the Dardanelles and the
+adjacent waters within the sphere of Ottoman influence!"
+
+"So _that_ is why you wanted them," he said with an unhappy glance at
+Rue. "What idiotic impulse prompted me to put them back in the box I
+can't imagine. You saw me do it, there in the taxicab."
+
+Ruhannah said:
+
+"The chauffeur saw you, too. He was looking at you in his steering
+mirror; I saw his face. But it never entered my mind that anything
+except idle curiosity possessed him."
+
+"Perhaps," said the Princess to Neeland, "what you did with the papers
+saved your life. Had that chauffeur not seen you place them in the
+box, he might have shot and robbed you as you left the cab, merely on
+the chance of your having them on your person."
+
+There was a silence; then Neeland said:
+
+"This is a fine business! As far as I can see murder seems to be the
+essence of the contract."
+
+"It is often incidental to it," said the Princess Mistchenka serenely.
+"But you and Ruhannah will soon be out of this affair."
+
+"I?" said the girl, surprised.
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Why, dear?"
+
+"I think there is going to be war. And if there is, France will be
+concerned. And that means that you and Ruhannah, too, will have to
+leave France."
+
+"But you?" asked the girl, anxiously.
+
+"I expect to remain. How long can you stay here, Jim?"
+
+Neeland cast an involuntary glance at Rue as he replied:
+
+"I intended to take the next steamer. Why? Can I be of any service to
+you, Princess Naia?"
+
+The Princess Mistchenka let her dark eyes rest on him for a second,
+then on Rue Carew.
+
+"I was thinking," she said, "that you might take Ruhannah back with
+you if war is declared."
+
+"Back to America!" exclaimed the girl. "But where am I to go in
+America? What am I to do there? I--I didn't think I was quite ready to
+earn my own living"--looking anxiously at the Princess Naia--"do you
+think so, dear?"
+
+The Princess said:
+
+"I wanted you to remain. And you must not worry, darling. Some day I
+shall want you back---- But if there is to be war in Europe you cannot
+remain here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"In the first place, only useful people would be wanted in Paris----"
+
+"But, Naia, darling! Couldn't I be useful to you?" The girl jumped up
+from the sofa and came and knelt down by the Princess Mistchenka,
+looking up into her face.
+
+The Princess laid aside her cigarette and put both hands on Rue's
+shoulders, looking her gravely, tenderly in the eyes.
+
+"Dear," she said, "I want James Neeland to hear this, too. For it is
+partly a confession.
+
+"When I first saw you, Rue, I was merely sorry for you, and willing to
+oblige Jim Neeland by keeping an eye on you until you were settled
+somewhere here in Paris.
+
+"Before we landed I liked you. And, because I saw wonderful
+possibilities in the little country girl who shared my stateroom, I
+deliberately made up my mind to develop you, make use of your
+excellent mind, your quick intelligence, your amazing capacity for
+absorbing everything that is best, and your very unusual attractions
+for my own purposes. I meant--to train you--educate you--to aid me."
+
+There was a silence; the girl looked up at her, flushed, intent,
+perplexed; the Princess Mistchenka, her hands on the girl's shoulders,
+looked back at her out of grave and beautiful dark eyes.
+
+"That is the truth," said the Princess. "My intention was to develop
+you along the lines which I follow as a--profession; teach you to
+extract desirable information through your wit, intelligence, and
+beauty--using your youth as a mask. But I--I can't do it----" She
+shook her head slightly. "Because I've lost my heart to you.... And
+the business I follow is a--a rotten game."
+
+Again silence fell among those three; Rue, kneeling at the elder
+woman's feet, looked up into her face in silence; Neeland, his elbows
+resting on his knees, leaned slightly forward from the sofa, watching
+them.
+
+"I'll help you, if you wish," said Rue Carew.
+
+"Thank you, dear. No."
+
+"Let me. I owe you everything since I have been here----"
+
+"No, dear. What I said to you--and to James--is true. It's a
+merciless, stealthy, treacherous business; it's dangerous to a woman,
+body and soul. It is one long lifetime of experience with treachery,
+with greed, with baser passions, with all that is ignoble in mankind.
+
+"There is no reason for you to enter such a circle; no excuse for it;
+no duty urges you; no patriotism incites you to such self-sacrifice;
+no memory of wrong done to your nearest and dearest inspires you to
+dedicate your life to aiding--if only a little, in the downfall and
+destruction of the nation and the people who encompassed it!"
+
+The Princess Mistchenka's dark eyes began to gleam, and her beautiful
+face lost its colour; and she took Rue's little hands in both of hers
+and held them tightly against her breast.
+
+"Had I not lost my heart to you, perhaps I should not have hesitated
+to develop and make use of you.
+
+"You are fitted for the role I might wish you to play. Men are
+fascinated by you; your intelligence charms; your youth and innocence,
+worn as a mask, might make you invaluable to the Chancellerie which is
+interested in the information I provide for it.
+
+"But, Rue, I have come to understand that I cannot do this thing. No.
+Go back to your painting and your clever drawing and your music; any
+one of these is certain to give you a living in time. And in that
+direction alone your happiness lies."
+
+She leaned forward and kissed the girl's hair where it was fine and
+blond, close to the snowy forehead.
+
+"If war comes," she said, "you and James will have to go home, like
+two good children when the curfew rings."
+
+She laughed, pushed Rue away, lighted another cigarette, and, casting
+a glance partly ironical, partly provocative, at the good-looking
+young man on the sofa, said:
+
+"As for you, James, I don't worry about you. Impudence will always
+carry you through where diplomacy fails you. Now, tell me all about
+these three unpleasant sporting characters who occupied the train with
+you."
+
+Neeland laughed.
+
+"It seems that a well-known gambler in New York, called Captain Quint,
+is backing them; and somebody higher up is backing Quint----"
+
+"Probably the Turkish Embassy at Washington," interposed the Princess,
+coolly. "I'm sorry, Jim; pray go on."
+
+"The Turkish Embassy?" he repeated, surprised that she should guess.
+
+"Yes; and the German Embassy is backing that. There you are, Jim. That
+is the sequence as far as your friend, Captain Quint. Now, who comes
+next in the scale?"
+
+"This man--Brandes--and the little chalk-faced creature, Stull; and
+the other one, with the fox face--Doc Curfoot."
+
+"I see. And then?"
+
+"Then, as I gathered, there are several gentlemen wearing Teutonic
+names--who are to go into partnership with them--one named Kestner,
+one called Theodore Weishelm, and an exceedingly oily Eurasian
+gentleman with whom I became acquainted on the _Volhynia_--one Karl
+Breslau----"
+
+"Breslau!" exclaimed the Princess. "_Now_ I understand."
+
+"Who is he, Princess?"
+
+"He is the most notorious international spy in the world--a protean
+individual with aliases, professions, and experiences sufficient for
+an entire jail full of criminals. His father was a German Jew; his
+mother a Circassian girl; he was educated in Germany, France, Italy,
+and England. He has been a member of the socialist group in the
+Reichstag under one name, a member of the British Parliament under
+another; he did dirty work for Abdul Hamid; dirtier for Enver Bey.
+
+"He is here, there, everywhere; he turns up in Brazil one day, and is
+next in evidence in Moscow. What he is so eternally about God only
+knows: what Chancellery he serves, which he betrays, is a question
+that occupies many uneasy minds this very hour, I fancy.
+
+"But of this I, personally, am now satisfied; Karl Breslau is
+responsible for the robbery of your papers today, and the entire
+affair was accomplished under his direction!"
+
+"And yet I know," said Neeland, "that after he and Kestner tried to
+blow up the captain's cabin and the bridge aboard the _Volhynia_
+yesterday morning at a little after two o'clock, he and Kestner must
+have jumped overboard in the Mersey River off Liverpool."
+
+"Without doubt a boat was watching your ship."
+
+"Yes; Weishelm had a fishing smack to pick them up. Ilse Dumont must
+have gone with them, too."
+
+"All they had to do was to touch at some dock, go ashore, and
+telegraph to their men here," said the Princess.
+
+"That, evidently, is what they did," admitted Neeland ruefully.
+
+"Certainly. And by _this_ time they may be here, too. They could do
+it. I haven't any doubt that Breslau, Kestner, and Ilse Dumont are
+here in Paris at this moment."
+
+"Then I'll wager I know where they are!"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In the Hotel des Bulgars, rue Vilna. That's where they are to operate
+a gaming house. That is where they expect to pluck and fleece the
+callow and the aged who may have anything of political importance
+about them worth stealing. That is their plan. Agents, officials,
+employees of all consulates, legations, and embassies are what they're
+really after. I heard them discussing it there in the train today."
+
+The Princess had fallen very silent, musing, watching Neeland's
+animated face as he detailed his knowledge of what had occurred.
+
+"Why not notify the police?" he added. "There might be a chance to
+recover the box and the papers."
+
+The Princess shook her pretty head.
+
+"We have to be very careful how we use the police, James. It seems
+simple, but it is not. I can't explain the reasons, but we usually pit
+spy against spy, and keep very clear of the police. Otherwise," she
+added, smiling, "there would be the deuce to pay among the embassies
+and legations." She added: "It's a most depressing situation; I don't
+exactly know what to do.... I have letters to write, anyway----"
+
+She rose, turned to Rue and took both her hands:
+
+"No; you must go back to New York and to your painting and music if
+there is to be war in Europe. But you have had a taste of what goes on
+in certain circles here; you have seen what a chain of consequences
+ensue from a chance remark of a young girl at a dinner table."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It's amusing, isn't it? A careless and innocent word to that old
+busybody, Ahmed Mirka Pasha, at my table--that began it. Then another
+word to Izzet Bey. And I had scarcely time to realise what had
+happened--barely time to telegraph James in New York--before their
+entire underground machinery was set in motion to seize those wretched
+papers in Brookhollow!"
+
+Neeland said:
+
+"You don't know even yet, Princess, how amazingly fast that machinery
+worked."
+
+"Tell me now, James. I have time enough to write my warning since it
+is already too late." And she seated herself on the sofa and drew
+Ruhannah down beside her.
+
+"Listen, dear," she said with pretty mockery, "here is a most worthy
+young man who is simply dying to let us know how picturesque a man can
+be when he tries to."
+
+Neeland laughed:
+
+"The only trouble with me," he retorted, "is that I've a rather
+hopeless habit of telling the truth. Otherwise there'd be some chance
+for me as a hero in what I'm going to tell you."
+
+And he began with his first encounter with Ilse Dumont in Rue Carew's
+house at Brookhollow. After he had been speaking for less than a
+minute, Rue Carew's hands tightened in the clasp of the Princess Naia,
+who glanced at the girl and noticed that she had lost her colour.
+
+And Neeland continued his partly playful, partly serious narrative of
+"moving accidents by flood and field," aware of the girl's deep,
+breathless interest, moved by it, and, conscious of it, the more
+inclined to avoid the picturesque and heroic, and almost ashamed to
+talk of himself at all under the serious beauty of the girl's clear
+eyes.
+
+But he could scarcely tell his tale and avoid mentioning himself; he
+was the centre of it all, the focus of the darts of Fate, and there
+was no getting away from what happened to himself.
+
+So he made the melodrama a comedy, and the moments of deadly peril he
+treated lightly. And one thing he avoided altogether, and that was
+how he had kissed Ilse Dumont.
+
+When he finished his account of his dreadful situation in the
+stateroom of Ilse Dumont, and how at the last second her unerring
+shots had shattered the bomb clock, cut the guy-rope, and smashed the
+water-jug which deluged the burning fuses, he added with a very
+genuine laugh:
+
+"If only some photographer had taken a few hundred feet of film for me
+I could retire on an income in a year and never do another stroke of
+honest work!"
+
+The Princess smiled, mechanically, but Rue Carew dropped her white
+face on the Princess Naia's shoulder as though suddenly fatigued.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+FROM FOUR TO FIVE
+
+
+The Princess Mistchenka and Rue Carew had retired to their respective
+rooms for that hour between four and five in the afternoon, which the
+average woman devotes to cat-naps or to that aimless feminine fussing
+which must ever remain a mystery to man.
+
+The afternoon had turned very warm; Neeland, in his room, lay on the
+lounge in his undershirt and trousers, having arrived so far toward
+bathing and changing his attire.
+
+No breeze stirred the lattice blinds hanging over both open windows;
+the semi-dusk of the room was pierced here and there by slender shafts
+of sunlight which lay almost white across the carpet and striped the
+opposite wall; the rue Soleil d'Or was very silent in the July
+afternoon.
+
+And Neeland lay there thinking about all that had happened to him and
+trying to bring it home to himself and make it seem plausible and
+real; and could not.
+
+For even now the last ten days of his life seemed like a story he had
+read concerning someone else. Nor did it seem to him that he
+personally had known all those people concerned in this wild,
+exaggerated, grotesque story. They, too, took their places on the
+printed page, appearing, lingering, disappearing, reappearing, as
+chapter succeeded chapter in a romance too obvious, too palpably
+sensational to win the confidence and credulity of a young man of
+today.
+
+Fed to repletion on noisy contemporary fiction, his finer perception
+blunted by the daily and raucous yell of the New York press, his
+imagination too long over-strained by Broadway drama and now flaccid
+and incapable of further response to its leering or shrieking appeal,
+the din of twentieth-century art fell on nerveless ears and on a brain
+benumbed and sceptical.
+
+And so when everything that he had found grotesque, illogical,
+laboured, obvious, and clamorously redundant in literature and the
+drama began to happen and continued to happen in real life to him--and
+went on happening and involving himself and others all around him in
+the pleasant July sunshine of 1914, this young man, made
+intellectually _blase_, found himself without sufficient capacity to
+comprehend it.
+
+There was another matter with which his mind was struggling as he lay
+there, his head cradled on one elbow, watching the thin blue spirals
+from his cigarette mount straight to the ceiling, and that was the
+metamorphosis of Rue Carew.
+
+Where was the thin girl he remembered--with her untidy chestnut hair
+and freckles, and a rather sweet mouth--dressed in garments the only
+mission of which was to cover a flat chest and frail body and limbs
+whose too rapid growth had outstripped maturity?
+
+To search for her he went back to the beginning, where a little girl
+in a pink print dress, bare-legged and hatless, loitered along an
+ancient rail fence and looked up shyly at him as he warned her to keep
+out of range of the fusillade from the bushes across the pasture.
+
+He thought of her again at the noisy party in Gayfield on that white
+night in winter; visualised the tall, shy, overgrown girl who danced
+with him and made no complaint when her slim foot was trodden on. And
+again he remembered the sleigh and the sleighbells clashing and
+tinkling under the moon; the light from her doorway, and how she stood
+looking back at him; and how, on the mischievous impulse of the
+moment, he had gone back and kissed her----
+
+At the memory an odd sensation came over him, scaring him a little.
+How on earth had he ever had the temerity to do such a thing to her!
+
+And, as he thought of this exquisite, slender, clear-eyed young girl
+who had greeted him at the Paris terminal--this charming embodiment of
+all that is fresh and sweet and fearless--in her perfect hat and gown
+of _mondaine_ youth and fashion, the memory of his temerity appalled
+him.
+
+Imagine his taking an unencouraged liberty now!
+
+Nor could he dare imagine encouragement from the Rue Carew so
+amazingly revealed to him.
+
+Out of what, in heaven's name, had this lovely girl developed? Out of
+a shy, ragged, bare-legged child, haunting the wild blackberry tangles
+in Brookhollow?
+
+Out of the frail, charmingly awkward, pathetic, freckled mill-hand in
+her home-made party clothes, the rather sweet expression of whose
+mouth once led him to impudent indiscretion?
+
+Out of what had she been evolved--this young girl whom he had left
+just now standing beside her boudoir door with the Princess Naia's arm
+around her waist? Out of the frightened, white-lipped, shabby girl who
+had come dragging her trembling limbs and her suitcase up the dark
+stairway outside his studio? Out of the young thing with sagging hair,
+crouched in an armchair beside his desk, where her cheap hat lay with
+two cheap hatpins sticking in the crown? Out of the fragile figure
+buried in the bedclothes of a stateroom berth, holding out to him a
+thin, bare arm in voiceless adieu?
+
+And Neeland lay there thinking, his head on his elbow, the other arm
+extended--from the fingers of which the burnt-out cigarette presently
+fell to the floor.
+
+He thought to himself:
+
+"She is absolutely beautiful; there's no denying that. It's not her
+clothes or the way she does her hair, or her voice, or the way she
+moves, or how she looks at a man; it's the whole business. And the
+whole bally business is a miracle, that's all. Good Lord! And to think
+I ever had the nerve--the _nerve_!"
+
+He swung himself to a sitting posture, sat gazing into space for a few
+moments, then continued to undress by pulling off one shoe, lighting a
+cigarette, and regarding his other foot fixedly.
+
+That is the manner in which the vast majority of young men do their
+deepest thinking.
+
+However, before five o'clock he had scrubbed himself and arrayed his
+well constructed person in fresh linen and outer clothing; and now he
+sauntered out through the hallway and down the stairs to the rear
+drawing-room, where a tea-table had been brought in and tea
+paraphernalia arranged. Although the lamp under the kettle had been
+lighted, nobody was in the room except a West Highland terrier curled
+up on a lounge, who, without lifting his snow-white head, regarded
+Neeland out of the wisest and most penetrating eyes the young man had
+ever encountered.
+
+Here was a personality! Here was a dog not to be approached lightly or
+with flippant familiarity. No! That small, long, short-legged body
+with its thatch of wiry white hair was fairly instinct with dignity,
+wisdom, and uncompromising self-respect.
+
+"That dog," thought Neeland, venturing to seat himself on a chair
+opposite, "is a Presbyterian if ever there was one. And I, for one,
+haven't the courage to address him until he deigns to speak to me."
+
+He looked respectfully at the dog, glanced at the kettle which had
+begun to sizzle a little, then looked out of the long windows into the
+little walled garden where a few slender fruit trees grew along the
+walls in the rear of well-kept flower beds, now gay with phlox,
+larkspur, poppies, and heliotrope, and edged with the biggest and
+bluest pansies he had ever beheld.
+
+On the wall a Peacock butterfly spread its brown velvet and gorgeously
+eyed wings to the sun's warmth; a blackbird with brilliant yellow bill
+stood astride a peach twig and poured out a bubbling and incessant
+melody full of fluted grace notes. And on the grass oval a kitten
+frisked with the ghosts of last month's dandelions, racing after the
+drifting fluff and occasionally keeling over to attack its own tail,
+after the enchanting manner of all kittens.
+
+A step behind him and Neeland turned. It was Marotte, the butler, who
+presented a thick, sealed envelope to him on his salver, bent to turn
+down the flame under the singing silver kettle, and withdrew without a
+sound.
+
+Neeland glanced at the letter in perplexity, opened the envelope and
+the twice-folded sheets of letter paper inside, and read this odd
+communication:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Have I been fair to you? Did I keep my word? Surely you must now, in
+your heart, acquit me of treachery--of any premeditated violence
+toward you.
+
+I never dreamed that those men would come to my stateroom. That plan
+_had_ been discussed, but was abandoned because it appeared impossible
+to get hold of you.
+
+And also--may I admit it without being misunderstood?--I absolutely
+refused to permit any attempt involving your death.
+
+When the trap shut on you, there in my stateroom, it shut also on me.
+I was totally unprepared; I was averse to murder; and also I had given
+you my word of honour.
+
+Judge, then, of my shame and desperation--my anger at being entrapped
+in a false position involving the loss in your eyes of my personal
+honour!
+
+It was unbearable: and I did what I could to make it clear to you that
+I had not betrayed you. But my comrades do not yet know that I had any
+part in it; do not yet understand why the ship was not blown to
+splinters. They are satisfied that I made a mistake in the rendezvous.
+And, so far, no suspicion attaches to me; they believe the mechanism
+of the clock failed them. And perhaps it is well for me that they
+believe this.
+
+It is, no doubt, a matter of indifference to you how the others and I
+reached safety. I have no delusions concerning any personal and kindly
+feeling on your part toward me. But one thing you can not--dare
+not--believe, and that is that I proved treacherous to you and false
+to my own ideas of honour.
+
+And now let me say one more thing to you--let me say it out of
+a--friendship--for which you care nothing--could not care anything.
+And that is this: your task is accomplished. You could not possibly
+have succeeded. There is no chance for recovery of those papers. Your
+mission is definitely ended.
+
+Now, I beg of you to return to America. Keep clear of entanglement in
+these events which are beginning to happen in such rapid succession in
+Europe. They do not concern you; you have nothing to do with them, no
+interest in them. Your entry into affairs which can not concern you
+would be insulting effrontery and foolish bravado.
+
+I beg you to heed this warning. I know you to be personally
+courageous; I suppose that fear of consequences would not deter you
+from intrusion into any affair, however dangerous; but I dare hope
+that perhaps in your heart there may have been born a little spark of
+friendliness--a faint warmth of recognition for a woman who took some
+slight chance with death to prove to you that her word of honour is
+not lightly given or lightly broken.
+
+So, if you please, our ways part here with this letter sent to you by
+hand.
+
+I shall not forget the rash but generous boy I knew who called me
+
+ Scheherazade.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+TOGETHER
+
+
+He sat there, holding the letter and looking absently over it at the
+little dog who had gone to sleep again. There was no sound in the room
+save the faint whisper of the tea-kettle. The sunny garden outside was
+very still, too; the blackbird appeared to doze on his peach twig; the
+kitten had settled down with eyes half closed and tail tucked under
+flank.
+
+The young man sat there with his letter in his hand and eyes lost in
+retrospection for a while.
+
+In his hand lay evidence that the gang which had followed him, and
+through which he no longer doubted that he had been robbed, was now in
+Paris.
+
+And yet he could not give this information to the Princess Naia. Here
+was a letter which he could not show. Something within him forbade it,
+some instinct which he did not trouble to analyse.
+
+And this instinct sent the letter into his breast pocket as a light
+sound came to his ears; and the next instant Rue Carew entered the
+further drawing-room.
+
+The little West Highland terrier looked up, wagged that section of him
+which did duty as a tail, and watched her as Neeland rose to seat her
+at the tea-table.
+
+"Sandy," she said to the little dog, "if you care to say 'Down with
+the Sultan,' I shall bestow one lump of sugar upon you."
+
+"Yap-yap!" said the little dog.
+
+"Give it to him, please----" Rue handed the sugar to Neeland, who
+delivered it gravely.
+
+"That's because I want Sandy to like you," she added.
+
+Neeland regarded the little dog and addressed him politely:
+
+"I shouldn't dare call you Sandy on such brief acquaintance," he said;
+"but may I salute you as Alexander? Thank you, Alexander."
+
+He patted the dog, whose tail made a slight, sketchy motion of
+approval.
+
+"Now," said Rue Carew, "you are friends, and we shall all be very
+happy together, I'm sure.... Princess Naia said we were not to wait.
+Tell me how to fix your tea."
+
+He explained. About to begin on a buttered _croissant_, he desisted
+abruptly and rose to receive the Princess, who entered with the light,
+springy step characteristic of her, gowned in one of those Parisian
+afternoon creations which never are seen outside that capital, and
+never will be.
+
+"Far too charming to be real," commented Neeland. "You are a pretty
+fairy story, Princess Naia, and your gown is a miracle tale which
+never was true."
+
+He had not dared any such flippancy with Rue Carew, and the girl, who
+knew she was exquisitely gowned, felt an odd little pang in her heart
+as this young man's praise of the Princess Mistchenka fell so easily
+and gaily from his lips. He might have noticed her gown, as it had
+been chosen with many doubts, much hesitation, and anxious
+consideration, for him.
+
+She flushed a little at the momentary trace of envy:
+
+"You _are_ too lovely for words," she said, rising. But the Princess
+gently forced her to resume her seat.
+
+"If this young man has any discrimination," she said, "he won't
+hesitate with the golden apple, Ruhannah."
+
+Rue laughed and flushed:
+
+"He hasn't noticed my gown, and I wore it for him to notice," she
+said. "But he was too deeply interested in Sandy and in tea and
+_croissants_----"
+
+"I _did_ notice it!" said Neeland. And, to that young man's surprise
+and annoyance, his face grew hot with embarrassment. What on earth
+possessed him to blush like a plow-boy! He suddenly felt like one,
+too, and turned sharply to the little dog, perplexed, irritated with
+himself and his behaviour.
+
+Behind him the Princess was saying:
+
+"The car is here. I shan't stop for tea, dear. In case anything
+happens, I am at the Embassy."
+
+"The Russian Embassy," repeated Rue.
+
+"Yes. I may be a little late. We are to dine here _en famille_ at
+eight. You will entertain James----
+
+"James!" she repeated, addressing him. "Do you think Ruhannah
+sufficiently interesting to entertain you while I am absent?"
+
+But all his aplomb, his lack of self-consciousness, seemed to be gone;
+and Neeland made some reply which seemed to him both obvious and dull.
+And hated himself because he found himself so unaccountably abashed,
+realising that he was afraid of the opinions that this young girl
+might entertain concerning him.
+
+"I'm going," said the Princess. "_Au revoir_, dear; good-bye,
+James----"
+
+She looked at him keenly when he turned to face her, smiled, still
+considering him as though she had unexpectedly discovered a new
+feature in his expressive face.
+
+Whatever it was she discovered seemed to make her smile a trifle more
+mechanical; she turned slowly to Rue Carew, hesitated, then, nodding
+a gay adieu, turned and left the room with Neeland at her elbow.
+
+"I'll tuck you in," he began; but she said:
+
+"Thanks; Marotte will do that." And left him at the door.
+
+When the car had driven away down the rue Soleil d'Or, Neeland
+returned to the little drawing-room where Rue was indulging Sandy with
+small bits of sugar.
+
+He took up cup and buttered _croissant_, and for a little while
+nothing was said, except to Sandy who, upon invitation, repeated his
+opinion of the Sultan and snapped in the offered emolument with
+unsatiated satisfaction.
+
+To Rue Carew as well as to Neeland there seemed to be a slight
+constraint between them--something not entirely new to her since they
+had met again after two years.
+
+In the two years of her absence she had been very faithful to the
+memory of his kindness; constant in the friendship which she had given
+him unasked--given him first, she sometimes thought, when she was a
+little child in a ragged pink frock, and he was a wonderful young man
+who had taken the trouble to cross the pasture and warn her out of
+range of the guns.
+
+He had always held his unique place in her memory and in her innocent
+affections; she had written to him again and again, in spite of his
+evident lack of interest in the girl to whom he had been kind. Rare,
+brief letters from him were read and reread, and laid away with her
+best-loved treasures. And when the prospect of actually seeing him
+again presented itself, she had been so frankly excited and happy that
+the Princess Mistchenka could find in the girl's unfeigned delight
+nothing except a young girl's touching and slightly amusing
+hero-worship.
+
+But with her first exclamation when she caught sight of him at the
+terminal, something about her preconceived ideas of him, and her
+memory of him, was suddenly and subtly altered, even while his name
+fell from her excited lips.
+
+Because she had suddenly realised that he was even more wonderful than
+she had expected or remembered, and that she did not know him at
+all--that she had no knowledge of this tall, handsome, well-built
+young fellow with his sunburnt features and his air of smiling
+aloofness and of graceful assurance, almost fascinating and a trifle
+disturbing.
+
+Which had made the girl rather grave and timid, uncertain of the
+estimation in which he might hold her; no longer so sure of any
+encouragement from him in her perfectly obvious attitude of a friend
+of former days.
+
+And so, shyly admiring, uncertain, inclined to warm response at any
+advance from this wonderful young man, the girl had been trying to
+adjust herself to this new incarnation of a certain James Neeland who
+had won her gratitude and who had awed her, too, from the time when,
+as a little girl, she had first beheld him.
+
+She lifted her golden-grey eyes to him; a little unexpected sensation
+not wholly unpleasant checked her speech for a moment.
+
+This was odd, even unaccountable. Such awkwardness, such disquieting
+and provincial timidity wouldn't do.
+
+"Would you mind telling me a little about Brookhollow?" she ventured.
+
+Certainly he would tell her. He laid aside his plate and tea cup and
+told her of his visits there when he had walked over from Neeland's
+Mills in the pleasant summer weather.
+
+Nothing had changed, he assured her; mill-dam and pond and bridge, and
+the rushing creek below were exactly as she knew them; her house stood
+there at the crossroads, silent and closed in the sunshine, and under
+the high moon; pickerel and sunfish still haunted the shallow pond;
+partridges still frequented the alders and willows across her pasture;
+fireflies sailed through the summer night; and the crows congregated
+in the evening woods and talked over the events of the day.
+
+"And my cat? You wrote that you would take care of Adoniram."
+
+"Adoniram is an aged patriarch and occupies the place of honour in my
+father's house," he said.
+
+"He is well?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He prefers his food cut finely, that is all."
+
+"I don't suppose he will live very long."
+
+"He's pretty old," admitted Neeland.
+
+She sighed and looked out of the window at the kitten in the garden.
+And, after an interval of silence:
+
+"Our plot in the cemetery--is it--pretty?"
+
+"It is beautiful," he said, "under the great trees. It is well cared
+for. I had them plant the shrubs and flowers you mentioned in the list
+you sent me."
+
+"Thank you." She lifted her eyes again to him. "I wonder if you
+realise how--how splendid you have always been to me."
+
+Surprised, he reddened, and said awkwardly that he had done nothing.
+Where was the easy, gay and debonaire assurance of this fluent young
+man? He was finding nothing to say to Rue Carew, or saying what he
+said as crudely and uncouthly as any haymaker in Gayfield.
+
+He looked up, exasperated, and met her eyes squarely. And Rue Carew
+blushed.
+
+They both looked elsewhere at once, but in the girl's breast a new
+pulse beat; a new instinct stirred, blindly importuning her for
+recognition; a new confusion threatened the ordered serenity of her
+mind, vaguely menacing it with unaccustomed questions.
+
+Then the instinct of self-command returned; she found composure with
+an effort.
+
+"You haven't asked me," she said, "about my work. Would you like to
+know?"
+
+He said he would; and she told him--chary of self-praise, yet eager
+that he should know that her masters had spoken well of her.
+
+"And you know," she said, "every week, now, I contribute a drawing to
+the illustrated paper I wrote to you about. I sent one off yesterday.
+But," and she laughed shyly, "my nostrils are no longer filled with
+pride, because I am not contented with myself any more. I wish to
+do--oh, so much better work!"
+
+"Of course. Contentment in creative work means that we have nothing
+more to create."
+
+She nodded and smiled:
+
+"The youngest born is the most tenderly cherished--until a new one
+comes. It is that way with me; I am all love and devotion and
+tenderness and self-sacrifice while fussing over my youngest. Then a
+still younger comes, and I become like a heartless cat and drive away
+all progeny except the newly born."
+
+She sighed and smiled and looked up at him:
+
+"It can't be helped, I suppose--that is, if one's going to have more
+progeny."
+
+"It's our penalty for producing. Only the newest counts. And those to
+come are to be miracles. But they never are."
+
+She nodded seriously.
+
+"When there is a better light I should like to show you some of my
+studies," she ventured. "No, not now. I am too vain to risk anything
+except the kindest of morning lights. Because I do hope for your
+approval----"
+
+"I know they're good," he said. And, half laughingly: "I'm beginning
+to find out that you're a rather wonderful and formidable and
+overpowering girl, Ruhannah."
+
+"You don't think so!" she exclaimed, enchanted. "_Do_ you? Oh, dear!
+Then I feel that I ought to show you my pictures and set you right
+immediately----" She sprang to her feet. "I'll get them; I'll be only
+a moment----"
+
+She was gone before he discovered anything to say, leaving him to walk
+up and down the deserted room and think about her as clearly as his
+somewhat dislocated thoughts permitted, until she returned with both
+arms full of portfolios, boards, and panels.
+
+"Now," she said with a breathless smile, "you may mortify my pride and
+rebuke my vanity. I deserve it; I need it; but Oh!--don't be too
+severe----"
+
+"Are you serious?" he asked, looking up in astonishment from the first
+astonishing drawing in colour which he held between his hands.
+
+"Serious? Of course----" She met his eyes anxiously, then her own
+became incredulous and the swift colour dyed her face.
+
+"Do you _like_ my work?" she asked in a fainter voice.
+
+"_Like_ it!" He continued to stare at the bewildering grace and colour
+of the work, turned to another and lifted it to the light:
+
+"What's this?" he demanded.
+
+"A monotype."
+
+"_You_ did it?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+He seemed unable to take his eyes from it--from the exquisite figures
+there in the sun on the bank of the brimming river under an
+iris-tinted April sky.
+
+"What do you call it, Rue?"
+
+"Baroque."
+
+He continued to scrutinise it in silence, then drew another carton
+prepared for oil from the sheaf on the sofa.
+
+Over autumn woods, in a windy sky, high-flying crows were buffeted and
+blown about. From the stark trees a few phantom leaves clung,
+fluttering; and the whole scene was possessed by sinuous, whirling
+forms--mere glimpses of supple, exquisite shapes tossing, curling,
+flowing through the naked woodland. A delicate finger caught at a dead
+leaf here; there frail arms clutched at a bending, wind-tossed bough;
+grey sky and ghostly forest were obsessed, bewitched by the winnowing,
+driving torrent of airy, half seen spirits.
+
+"The Winds," he said mechanically.
+
+He looked at another--a sketch of the Princess Naia. And somehow it
+made him think of vast skies and endless plains and the tumult of
+surging men and rattling lances.
+
+"A Cossack," he said, half to himself. "I never before realised it."
+And he laid it aside and turned to the next.
+
+"I haven't brought any life studies or school drawings," she said. "I
+thought I'd just show you the--the results of them and of--of whatever
+is in me."
+
+"I'm just beginning to understand what is in you," he said.
+
+"Tell me--what is it?" she asked, almost timidly.
+
+"Tell _you_?" He rose, stood by the window looking out, then turned to
+her:
+
+"What can _I_ tell you?" he added with a short laugh. "What have I to
+say to a girl who can do--_these_--after two years abroad?"
+
+Sheer happiness kept her silent. She had not dared hope for such
+approval. Even now she dared not permit herself to accept it.
+
+"I have so much to say," she ventured, "and such an appalling amount
+of work before I can learn to say it----"
+
+"Your work is--stunning!" he said bluntly.
+
+"You don't think so!" she exclaimed incredulously.
+
+"Indeed I do! Look at what you have done in two years. Yes, grant all
+your aptitude and talents, just look what you've _accomplished_ and
+where you _are_! Look at you yourself, too--what a stunning,
+bewildering sort of girl you've developed into!"
+
+"Jim Neeland!"
+
+"Certainly, Jim Neeland, of Neeland's Mills, who has had years more
+study than you have, more years of advantage, and who now is an
+illustrator without anything in particular to distinguish him from the
+several thousand other American illustrators----"
+
+"Jim! Your work is charming!"
+
+"How do _you_ know?"
+
+"Because I have everything you ever did! I sent for the magazines and
+cut them out; and they are in my scrapbook----"
+
+She hesitated, breathless, smiling back at him out of her beautiful
+golden-grey eyes as though challenging him to doubt her loyalty or her
+belief in him.
+
+It was rather curious, too, for the girl was unusually intelligent and
+discriminating; and Neeland's work was very, very commonplace.
+
+His face had become rather sober, but the smile still lurked on his
+lips.
+
+"Rue," he said, "you are wonderfully kind. But I'm afraid I know about
+my work. I can draw pretty well, according to school standards; and I
+approach pretty nearly the same standards in painting. Probably that
+is why I became an instructor at the Art League. But, so far, I
+haven't done anything better than what is called 'acceptable.'"
+
+"I don't agree with you," she said warmly.
+
+"It's very kind of you not to." He laughed and walked to the window
+again, and stood there looking out across the sunny garden. "Of
+course," he added over his shoulder, "I expect to get along all right.
+Mediocrity has the best of chances, you know."
+
+"You are _not_ mediocre!"
+
+"No, I don't think I am. But my work is. And, do you know," he
+continued thoughtfully, "that is very often the case with a man who is
+better equipped to act than to tell with pen or pencil how others act.
+I'm beginning to be afraid that I'm that sort, because I'm afraid that
+I get more enjoyment out of doing things than in explaining with
+pencil and paint how they are done."
+
+But Rue Carew, seated on the arm of her chair, slowly shook her head:
+
+"I don't think that those are the only alternatives; do you?"
+
+"What other is there?"
+
+She said, a little shyly:
+
+"I think it is all right to _do_ things if you like; make exact
+pictures of how things are done if you choose; but it seems to me that
+if one really has anything to say, one should show in one's pictures
+how things _might_ be or _ought_ to be. Don't you?"
+
+He seemed surprised and interested in her logic, and she took courage
+to speak again in her pretty, deprecating way:
+
+"If the function of painting and literature is to reflect reality, a
+mirror would do as well, wouldn't it? But to reflect what might be or
+what ought to be requires something more, doesn't it?"
+
+"Imagination. Yes."
+
+"A mind, anyway.... That is what I have thought; but I'm not at all
+sure I am right."
+
+"I don't know. The mind ought to be a mirror reflecting only the
+essentials of reality."
+
+"And _that_ requires imagination, doesn't it?" she asked. "You see you
+have put it much better than I have."
+
+"Have I?" he returned, smiling. "After a while you'll persuade me that
+I possess your imagination, Rue. But I don't."
+
+"You do, Jim----"
+
+"I'm sorry; I don't. You construct, I copy; you create, I ring changes
+on what already is; you dissect, I skate over the surface of
+things--Oh, Lord! I don't know what's lacking in me!" he added with
+gay pretence of despair which possibly was less feigned than real.
+"But I know this, Rue Carew! I'd rather experience something
+interesting than make a picture of it. And I suppose that confession
+is fatal."
+
+"Why, Jim?"
+
+"Because with me the pleasures of reality are substituted for the
+pleasures of imagination. Not that I don't like to draw and paint. But
+my ambition in painting is and always has been bounded by the visible.
+And, although that does not prevent me from appreciation--from
+understanding and admiring your work, for example--it sets an
+impregnable limit to any such aspiration on my part----"
+
+His mobile and youthful features had become very grave; he stood a
+moment with lowered head as though what he was thinking of depressed
+him; then the quick smile came into his face and cleared it, and he
+said gaily:
+
+"I'm an artistic _Dobbin_; a reliable, respectable sort of Fido on
+whom editors can depend; that's all. Don't feel sorry for me," he
+added, laughing; "my work will be very much in demand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+EN FAMILLE
+
+
+The Princess Mistchenka came leisurely and gracefully downstairs a
+little before eight that evening, much pleased with her hair,
+complexion, and gown.
+
+She found Neeland alone in the music-room, standing in the attitude of
+the conventional Englishman with his back to the fireless grate and
+his hands clasped loosely behind him, waiting to be led out and fed.
+
+The direct glance of undisguised admiration with which he greeted the
+Princess Naia confirmed the impression she herself had received from
+her mirror, and brought an additional dash of colour into her delicate
+brunette face.
+
+"Is there any doubt that you are quite the prettiest _objet d'art_ in
+Paris?" he enquired anxiously, taking her hand; and her dark eyes were
+very friendly as he saluted her finger-tips with the reverent and
+slightly exaggerated appreciation of a connoisseur in sculpture.
+
+"You hopeless Irishman," she laughed. "It's fortunate for women that
+you're never serious, even with yourself."
+
+"Princess Naia," he remonstrated, "can nothing short of kissing you
+convince you of my sincerity and----"
+
+"Impudence?" she interrupted smilingly. "Oh, yes, I'm convinced,
+James, that, lacking other material, you'd make love to a hitching
+post."
+
+His hurt expression and protesting gesture appealed to the universe
+against misinterpretation, but the Princess Mistchenka laughed again
+unfeelingly, and seated herself at the piano.
+
+"Some day," she said, striking a lively chord or two, "I hope you'll
+catch it, young man. You're altogether too free and easy with your
+feminine friends.... What do you think of Rue Carew?"
+
+"An astounding and enchanting transformation. I haven't yet recovered
+my breath."
+
+"When you do, you'll talk nonsense to the child, I suppose."
+
+"Princess! Have I ever----"
+
+"You talk little else, dear friend, when God sends a pretty fool to
+listen!" She looked up at him from the keyboard over which her hands
+were nervously wandering. "I ought to know," she said; "_I_ also have
+listened." She laughed carelessly, but her glance lingered for an
+instant on his face, and her mirth did not sound quite spontaneous to
+either of them.
+
+Two years ago there had been an April evening after the opera, when,
+in taking leave of her in her little _salon_, her hand had perhaps
+retained his a fraction of a second longer than she quite intended;
+and he had, inadvertently, kissed her.
+
+He had thought of it as a charming and agreeable incident; what the
+Princess Naia Mistchenka thought of it she never volunteered. But she
+so managed that he never again was presented with a similar
+opportunity.
+
+Perhaps they both were thinking of this rather ancient episode now,
+for his face was touched with a mischievously reminiscent smile, and
+she had lowered her head a trifle over the keyboard where her slim,
+ivory-tinted hands still idly searched after elusive harmonies in the
+subdued light of the single lamp.
+
+"There's a man dining with us," she remarked, "who has the same
+irresponsible and casual views on life and manners which you
+entertain. No doubt you'll get along very well together."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"A Captain Sengoun, one of our attaches. It's likely you'll find a
+congenial soul in this same Cossack whom we all call Alak." She added
+maliciously: "His only logic is the impulse of the moment, and he is
+known as Prince Erlik among his familiars. Erlik was the Devil, you
+know----"
+
+He was announced at that moment, and came marching in--a dark,
+handsome, wiry young man with winning black eyes and a little black
+moustache just shadowing his short upper lip--and a head shaped to
+contain the devil himself--the most reckless looking head, Neeland
+thought, that he ever had beheld in all his life.
+
+But the young fellow's frank smile was utterly irresistible, and his
+straight manner of facing one, and of looking directly into the eyes
+of the person he addressed in his almost too perfect English, won any
+listener immediately.
+
+He bowed formally over Princess Naia's hand, turned squarely on
+Neeland when he was named to the American, and exchanged a firm clasp
+with him. Then, to the Princess:
+
+"I am late? No? Fancy, Princess--that great booby, Izzet Bey, must
+stop me at the club, and I exceedingly pressed to dress and entirely
+out of humour with all Turks. '_Eh bien, mon vieux!_' said he in his
+mincing manner of a nervous pelican, 'they're warming up the Balkan
+boilers with Austrian pine. But I hear they're full of snow.' And I
+said to him: 'Snow boils very nicely if the fire is sufficiently
+persistent!' And I think Izzet Bey will find it so!"--with a quick
+laugh of explanation to Neeland: "He meant Russian snow, you see; and
+that boils beautifully if they keep on stoking the boiler with
+Austrian fuel."
+
+The Princess shrugged:
+
+"What schoolboy repartee! Why did you answer him at all, Alak?"
+
+"Well," explained the attache, "as I was due here at eight I hadn't
+time to take him by the nose, had I?"
+
+Rue Carew entered and went to the Princess to make amends:
+
+"I'm so sorry to be late!"--turned to smile at Neeland, then offered
+her hand to the Russian. "How do you do, Prince Erlik?" she said with
+the careless and gay cordiality of old acquaintance. "I heard you say
+something about Colonel Izzet Bey's nose as I came in."
+
+Captain Sengoun bowed over her slender white hand:
+
+"The Mohammedan nose of Izzet Bey is an admirable bit of Oriental
+architecture, Miss Carew. Why should it surprise you to hear me extol
+its bizarre beauty?"
+
+"Anyway," said the girl, "I'm contented that you left devilry for
+revelry." And, Marotte announcing dinner, she took the arm of Captain
+Sengoun as the Princess took Neeland's.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Like all Russians and some Cossacks, Prince Alak ate and drank as
+though it were the most delightful experience in life; and he did it
+with a whole-souled heartiness and satisfaction that was flattering to
+any hostess and almost fascinating to anybody observing him.
+
+His teeth were even and very white; his appetite splendid: when he
+did his goblet the honour of noticing it at all, it was to drain it;
+when he resumed knife and fork he used them as gaily, as gracefully,
+and as thoroughly as he used his sabre on various occasions.
+
+He had taken an instant liking to Neeland, who seemed entirely
+inclined to return it; and he talked a great deal to the American but
+with a nice division of attention for the two ladies on either side.
+
+"You know, Alak," said the Princess, "you need not torture yourself by
+trying to converse with discretion; because Mr. Neeland knows about
+many matters which concern us all."
+
+"Ah! That is delightful! And indeed I was already quite assured of Mr.
+Neeland's intelligent sympathy in the present state of European
+affairs."
+
+"He's done a little more than express sympathy," remarked the
+Princess; and she gave a humorous outline of Neeland's part in the
+affair of the olive-wood box.
+
+"Fancy!" exclaimed Captain Sengoun. "That impudent _canaille_! Yes; I
+heard at the Embassy what happened to that accursed box this morning.
+Of course it is a misfortune, but as for me, personally, I don't
+care----"
+
+"It doesn't happen to concern you personally, Prince Erlik," said
+Princess Naia dryly.
+
+"No," he admitted, unabashed by the snub, "it does not touch me.
+Cavalry cannot operate on the Gallipoli Peninsula. Therefore, God be
+thanked, I shall be elsewhere when the snow boils."
+
+Rue tuned to Neeland:
+
+"His one idea of diplomacy and war is a thousand Kuban Cossacks at
+full speed."
+
+"And that is an excellent idea, is it not, Kazatchka?" he said,
+smiling impudently at the Princess, who only laughed at the
+familiarity.
+
+"I hope," added Captain Sengoun, "that I may live to gallop through a
+few miles of diplomacy at full speed before they consign me to the
+Opolchina." Turning to Neeland, "The reserve--the old man's home, you
+know. God forbid!" And he drained his goblet and looked defiantly at
+Rue Carew.
+
+"A Cossack is a Cossack," said the Princess, "be he Terek or Kuban,
+Don or Astrachan, and they all know as much about diplomacy as Prince
+Erlik--or Izzet Bey's nose.... James, you are unusually silent, dear
+friend. Are you regretting those papers?"
+
+"It's a pity," he said. But he had not been thinking of the lost
+papers; Rue Carew's beauty preoccupied him. The girl was in black,
+which made her skin dazzling, and reddened the chestnut colour of her
+hair.
+
+Her superb young figure revealed an unsuspected loveliness where the
+snowy symmetry of neck and shoulders and arms was delicately accented
+by the filmy black of her gown.
+
+He had never seen such a beautiful girl; she seemed more wonderful,
+more strange, more aloof than ever. And this was what preoccupied and
+entirely engaged his mind, and troubled it, so that his smile had a
+tendency to become indefinite and his conversation mechanical at
+times.
+
+Captain Sengoun drained one more of numerous goblets; gazed
+sentimentally at the Princess, then with equal sentiment at Rue
+Carew.
+
+"As for me," he said, with a carelessly happy gesture toward the
+infinite, "plans are plans, and if they're stolen, _tant pis_! But
+there are always Tartars in Tartary and Turks in Turkey. And, while
+there are, there's hope for a poor devil of a Cossack who wants to
+say a prayer in St. Sophia before he's gathered to his ancestors."
+
+"Have any measures been taken at your Embassy to trace the plans?"
+asked Neeland of the Princess.
+
+"Of course," she said simply.
+
+"Plans," remarked Sengoun, "are not worth the _tcherkeske_ of an
+honest Caucasian! A Khirgize pony knows more than any diplomat; and my
+_magaika_ is better than both!"
+
+"All the same," said Rue Carew, "with those stolen plans in your
+Embassy, Prince Erlik, you might even gallop a _sotnia_ of your
+Cossacks to the top of Achi-Baba."
+
+"By heaven! I'd like to try!" he exclaimed, his black eyes ablaze.
+
+"There are _dongas_," observed the Princess dryly.
+
+"I know it. There are _dongas_ every twenty yards; and Turkish gorse
+that would stop a charging bull! My answer is, mount! trot! gallop!
+and hurrah for Achi-Baba!"
+
+"Very picturesque, Alak. But wouldn't it be nicer to be able to come
+back again and tell us all about it?"
+
+"As for that," he said with his full-throated, engaging laugh, "no
+need to worry, Princess, for the newspapers would tell the story. What
+is this Gallipoli country, anyway, that makes our Chancellery wag its
+respected head and frown and whisper in corners and take little notes
+on its newly laundered cuffs?
+
+"I know the European and Asiatic shores with their forts--Kilid Bahr,
+Chimilik, Kum Kale, Dardanos. I know what those Germans have been
+about with their barbed wire and mobile mortar batteries. What do we
+want of their plans, then----"
+
+"Nothing, Prince Erlik!" said Rue, laughing. "It suffices that you be
+appointed adviser in general to his majesty the Czar."
+
+Sengoun laughed with all his might.
+
+"And an excellent thing that would be, Miss Carew. What we need in
+Russia," he added with a bow to the Princess, "are, first of all, more
+Kazatchkee, then myself to execute any commands with which my
+incomparable Princess might deign to honour me."
+
+"Then I command you to go and smoke cigarettes in the music-room and
+play some of your Cossack songs on the piano for Mr. Neeland until
+Miss Carew and I rejoin you," said the Princess, rising.
+
+At the door there was a moment of ceremony; then Sengoun, passing his
+arm through Neeland's with boyish confidence that his quickly given
+friendship was welcome, sauntered off to the music-room where
+presently he was playing the piano and singing some of the entrancing
+songs of his own people in a voice that, cultivated, might have made a
+fortune for him:
+
+ "We are but horsemen,
+ And God is great.
+ We hunt on hill and fen
+ The fierce Kerait,
+ Naiman and Eighur,
+ Tartar and Khiounnou,
+ Leopard and Tiger
+ Flee at our view-halloo;
+ We are but horsemen
+ Cleansing the hill and fen
+ Where wild men hide--
+ Wild beasts abide,
+ Mongol and Baiaghod,
+ Turkoman, Taidjigod,
+ Each in his den.
+ The skies are blue,
+ The plains are wide,
+ Over the fens the horsemen ride!"
+
+Still echoing the wild air, and playing with both hands in spite of
+the lighted cigarette between his fingers, he glanced over his
+shoulder at Neeland:
+
+"A very old, old song," he explained, "made in the days of the great
+invasion when all the world was fighting anybody who would fight back.
+I made it into English. It's quite nice, I think."
+
+His naive pleasure in his own translation amused Neeland immensely,
+and he said that he considered it a fine piece of verse.
+
+"Yes," said Sengoun, "but you ought to hear a love song I made out of
+odd fragments I picked up here and there. I call it '_Samarcand_'; or
+rather '_Samarcand Mahfouzeh_,' which means, 'Samarcand the Well
+Guarded':
+
+ "'Outside my guarded door
+ Whose voice repeats my name?'
+ 'The voice thou hast heard before
+ Under the white moon's flame!
+ And thy name is my song; and my song is ever the same!'
+
+ "'How many warriors, dead,
+ Have sung the song you sing?
+ Some by an arrow were sped;
+ Some by a dagger's sting.'
+ 'Like a bird in the night is my song--a bird on the wing!'
+
+ "'Ahmed and Yucouf bled!
+ A dead king blocks my door!'
+ 'If thy halls and walls be red,
+ Shall Samarcand ask more?
+ Or my song shall cleanse thy house or my heart's blood
+ foul thy floor!'
+
+ "'Now hast thou conquered me!
+ Humbly thy captive, I.
+ My soul escapes to thee;
+ My body here must lie;
+ Ride!--with thy song, and my soul in thy arms; and let me die.'"
+
+Sengoun, still playing, flung over his shoulder:
+
+"A Tartar song from the Turcoman. I borrowed it and put new clothes on
+it. Nice, isn't it?"
+
+"Enchanting!" replied Neeland, laughing in spite of himself.
+
+Rue Carew, with her snowy shoulders and red-gold hair, came drifting
+in, consigning them to their seats with a gesture, and giving them to
+understand that she had come to hear the singing.
+
+So Sengoun continued his sketchy, haphazard recital, waving his
+cigarette now and then for emphasis, and conversing frequently over
+his shoulder while Rue Carew leaned on the piano and gravely watched
+his nimble fingers alternately punish and caress the keyboard.
+
+After a little while the Princess Mistchenka came in saying that she
+had letters to write. They conversed, however, for nearly an hour
+before she rose, and Captain Sengoun gracefully accepted his _conge_.
+
+"I'll walk with you, if you like," suggested Neeland.
+
+"With pleasure, my dear fellow! The night is beautiful, and I am just
+beginning to wake up."
+
+"Ask Marotte to give you a key, then," suggested the Princess, going.
+At the foot of the stairs, however, she paused to exchange a few words
+with Captain Sengoun in a low voice; and Neeland, returning with his
+latchkey, went over to where Rue stood by the lamplit table absently
+looking over an evening paper.
+
+As he came up beside her, the girl lifted her beautiful, golden-grey
+eyes.
+
+"Are you going out?"
+
+"Yes, I thought I'd walk a bit with Captain Sengoun."
+
+"It's rather a long distance to the Russian Embassy. Besides----" She
+hesitated, and he waited. She glanced absently over the paper for a
+moment, then, not raising her eyes: "I'm--I--the theft of that box
+today--perhaps my nerves have suffered a little--but do you think it
+quite prudent for you to go out alone at night?"
+
+"Why, I am going out with Captain Sengoun!" he said, surprised at her
+troubled face.
+
+"But you will have to return alone."
+
+He laughed, but they both had flushed a little.
+
+Had it been any other woman in the world, he had not hesitated gaily
+to challenge the shy and charming solicitude expressed in his
+behalf--make of it his capital, his argument to force that pretty duel
+to which one day, all youth is destined.
+
+He found himself now without a word to say, nor daring to entertain
+any assumption concerning the words she had uttered.
+
+Dumb, awkward, afraid, he became conscious that something in this
+young girl had silenced within him any inclination to gay effrontery,
+any talent for casual gallantry. Her lifted eyes, with their clear,
+half shy regard, had killed all fluency of tongue in him--slain
+utterly that light good-humour with which he had encountered women
+heretofore.
+
+He said:
+
+"I hadn't thought myself in any danger whatever. Is there any reason
+for me to expect further trouble?"
+
+Rue raised her troubled eyes:
+
+"Has it occurred to you that _they_ might think you capable of
+redrawing parts of the stolen plans from memory?"
+
+"It had never occurred to me," he admitted, surprised. "But I believe
+I could remember a little about one or two of the more general maps."
+
+"The Princess means to ask you, tomorrow, to draw for her what you can
+remember. And that made me think about you now--whether the _others_
+might not suspect you capable of remembering enough to do them
+harm.... And so--do you think it prudent to go out tonight?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, quite sincerely, "it is all right. You see I know
+Paris very well."
+
+She did not look convinced, but Sengoun came up and she bade them both
+good night and went away with the Princess Mistchenka.
+
+As, arm in arm, the two young men sauntered around the corner of the
+rue Soleil d'Or, two men who had been sitting on a marble bench beside
+the sun-dial fountain rose and strolled after them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+JARDIN RUSSE
+
+
+At midnight the two young men had not yet parted. For, as Sengoun
+explained, the hour for parting was already past, and it was too late
+to consider it now. And Neeland thought so, too, what with the
+laughter and the music, and the soft night breezes to counsel folly,
+and the city's haunting brilliancy stretching away in bewitching
+perspectives still unexplored.
+
+From every fairy lamp the lustrous capital signalled to youth her
+invitation, her challenge, and her menace. Like some jewelled
+sorceress--some dreaming Circe by the river bank, pondering new
+spells--so Paris lay in all her mystery and beauty under the July
+stars.
+
+Sengoun, his arm through Neeland's, had become affectionately
+confidential. He explained that he really was a nocturnal creature;
+that now he had completely waked up; that his habits were due to a
+passion for astronomy, and that the stars he had discovered at odd
+hours of the early morning were more amazing than any celestial bodies
+ever before identified.
+
+But Neeland, whose head and heart were already occupied, declined to
+study any constellations; and they drifted through the bluish lustre
+of white arc-lights and the clustered yellow glare of incandescent
+lamps toward a splash of iridescent glory among the chestnut trees,
+where music sounded and tables stood amid flowers and grass and little
+slender fountains which balanced silver globes upon their jets.
+
+The waiters were in Russian peasant dress; the orchestra was Russian
+gipsy; the bill of fare was Russian; and there was only champagne to
+be had.
+
+Balalaika orchestra and spectators were singing some evidently
+familiar song--one of those rushing, clattering, clashing choruses of
+the Steppes; and Sengoun sang too, with all his might, when he and
+Neeland were seated, which was thirsty work.
+
+Two fascinating Russian gipsy girls were dancing--slim, tawny, supple
+creatures in their scarlet and their jingling bangles. After a
+deafening storm of applause, their flashing smiles swept the audience,
+and, linking arms, they sauntered off between the tables under the
+trees.
+
+"I wish to dance," remarked Sengoun. "My legs will kick over something
+if I don't."
+
+They were playing an American dance--a sort of skating step; people
+rose; couple after couple took the floor; and Sengoun looked around
+for a partner. He discovered no eligible partner likely to favour him
+without a quarrel with her escort; and he was debating with Neeland
+whether a row would be worth while, when the gipsy girls sauntered
+by.
+
+"Oh," he said gaily, "a pretty Tzigane can save my life if she will!"
+
+And the girls laughed and Sengoun led one of them out at a reckless
+pace.
+
+The other smiled and looked at Neeland, and, seating herself, leaned
+on the table watching the whirl on the floor.
+
+"Don't you dance?" she asked, with a sidelong glance out of her
+splendid black eyes.
+
+"Yes; but I'm likely to do most of my dancing on your pretty feet."
+
+"_Merci!_ In that case I prefer a cigarette."
+
+She selected one from his case, lighted it, folded her arms on the
+table, and continued to gaze at the dancers.
+
+"I'm tired tonight," she remarked.
+
+"You dance beautifully."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+Sengoun, flushed and satisfied, came back with his gipsy partner when
+the music ceased.
+
+"Now I hope we may have some more singing!" he exclaimed, as they
+seated themselves and a waiter filled their great, bubble-shaped
+glasses.
+
+And he did sing at the top of his delightful voice when the balalaikas
+swept out into a ringing and familiar song, and the two gipsy girls
+sang, too--laughed and sang, holding the frosty goblets high in the
+sparkling light.
+
+It was evident to Neeland that the song was a favourite one with
+Russians. Sengoun was quite overcome; they all touched goblets.
+
+"Brava, my little Tziganes!" he said with happy emotion. "My little
+compatriots! My little tawny panthers of the Caucasus! What do you
+call yourselves in this bandbox of a country where two steps backward
+take you across any frontier?"
+
+His dancing partner laughed till her sequins jingled from throat to
+ankle:
+
+"They call us Fifi and Nini," she replied. "Ask yourself why!"
+
+"For example," added the other girl, "we rise from this table and
+thank you. There is nothing further. _C'est fini--c'est
+Fifi--Nini--comprenez-vous, Prince Erlik?_"
+
+"Hi! What?" exclaimed Sengoun. "I'm known, it appears, even to that
+devilish name of mine!"
+
+Everybody laughed.
+
+"After all," he said, more soberly, "it's a gipsy's trade to know
+everybody and everything. _Tiens!_" He slapped a goldpiece on the
+table. "A kiss apiece against a louis that you don't know my comrade's
+name and nation!"
+
+The girl called Nini laughed:
+
+"We're quite willing to kiss you, Prince Erlik, but a _louis d'or_ is
+not a copper penny. And your comrade is American and his name is
+Tchames."
+
+"James!" exclaimed Sengoun.
+
+"I said so--Tchames."
+
+"What else?"
+
+"Nilan."
+
+"Neeland?"
+
+"I said so."
+
+Sengoun placed the goldpiece in Nini's hand and looked at Neeland with
+an uncomfortable laugh.
+
+"I ought to know a gipsy, but they always astonish me, these Tziganes.
+Tell us some more, Nini----" He beckoned a waiter and pointed
+indignantly at the empty goblets.
+
+The girls, resting their elbows on the tables, framed their faces with
+slim and dusky hands, and gazed at Sengoun out of humorous,
+half-veiled eyes.
+
+"What do you wish to know, Prince Erlik?" they asked mockingly.
+
+"Well, for example, is my country really mobilising?"
+
+"Since the twenty-fifth."
+
+"_Tiens!_ And old Papa Kaiser and the Clown Prince Footit--what do
+they say to that?"
+
+"It must be stopped."
+
+"What! _Sang dieu!_ We must stop mobilising against the Austrians?
+But we are not going to stop, you know, while Francis Joseph continues
+to pull faces at poor old Servian Peter!"
+
+Neeland said:
+
+"The evening paper has it that Austria is more reasonable and that the
+Servian affair can be arranged. There will be no war," he added
+confidently.
+
+"There will be war," remarked Nini with a shrug of her bare, brown
+shoulders over which her hair and her gilded sequins fell in a bright
+mass.
+
+"Why?" asked Neeland, smiling.
+
+"Why? Because, for one thing, you have brought war into Europe!"
+
+"Come, now! No mystery!" said Sengoun gaily. "Explain how my comrade
+has brought war into Europe, you little fraud!"
+
+Nini looked at Neeland:
+
+"What else except papers was in the box you lost?" she asked coolly.
+
+Neeland, very red and uncomfortable, gazed back at the girl without
+replying; and she laughed at him, showing her white teeth.
+
+"You brought the Yellow Devil into Europe, M'sieu Nilan! Erlik, the
+Yellow Demon. When he travels there is unrest. Where he rests there is
+war!"
+
+"You're very clever," retorted Neeland, quite out of countenance.
+
+"Yes, we are," said Fifi, with her quick smile. "And who but M'sieu
+Nilan should admit it?"
+
+"Very clever," repeated Neeland, still amazed and profoundly uneasy.
+"But this Yellow Devil you say I brought into Europe must have been
+resting in America, then. And, if so, why is there no war there?"
+
+"There would have been--with Mexico. You brought the Yellow Demon
+here, but just in time!"
+
+"All right. Grant that, then. But--perhaps he was a long time resting
+in America. What about that, pretty gipsy?"
+
+The girl shrugged again:
+
+"Is your memory so poor, M'sieu Nilan? What has your country done but
+fight since Erlik rested among your people? You fought in Samoa; in
+Hawaii; your warships went to Chile, to Brazil, to San Domingo; the
+blood of your soldiers and sailors was shed in Hayti, in Cuba, in the
+Philippines, in China----"
+
+"Good Lord!" exclaimed Neeland. "That girl is dead right!"
+
+Sengoun threw back his handsome head and laughed without restraint;
+and the gipsies laughed, too, their beautiful eyes and teeth flashing
+under their black cascades of unbound hair.
+
+"Show me your palms," said Nini, and drew Sengoun's and Neeland's
+hands across the table, holding them in both of hers.
+
+"See," she added, nudging Fifi with her shoulder, "both of them born
+under the Dark Star! It is war they shall live to see--war!"
+
+"Under the Dark Star, Erlik," repeated the other girl, looking closely
+into the two palms, "and there is war there!"
+
+"And death?" inquired Sengoun gaily. "I don't care, if I can lead a
+_sotnia_ up Achi-Baba and twist the gullet of the Padisha before I say
+Fifi--Nini!"
+
+The gipsies searched his palm with intent and brilliant gaze.
+
+"_Zut!_" said Fifi. "_Je ne vois rien que d'l'amour et la guerre aux
+dames!_"
+
+"_T'en fais pas!_" laughed Sengoun. "I ask no further favour of
+Fortune; I'll manage my regiment myself. And, listen to me, Fifi," he
+added with a frightful frown, "if the war you predict doesn't arrive,
+I'll come back and beat you as though you were married to a Turk!"
+
+While they still explored his palm, whispering together at intervals,
+Sengoun caught the chorus of the air which the orchestra was playing,
+and sang it lustily and with intense pleasure to himself.
+
+Neeland, unquiet to discover how much these casual strangers knew
+about his own and intimate affairs, had become silent and almost
+glum.
+
+But the slight gloom which invaded him came from resentment toward
+those people who had followed him from Brookhollow to Paris, and who,
+in the very moment of victory, had snatched that satisfaction from
+him.
+
+He thought of Kestner and of Breslau--of Scheherazade, and the
+terrible episode in her stateroom.
+
+Except that he had seized the box in the Brookhollow house, there was
+nothing in his subsequent conduct on which he could plume himself. He
+could not congratulate himself on his wisdom; sheer luck had carried
+him through as far as the rue Soleil d'Or--mere chance, and that
+capricious fortune which sometimes convoys the stupid, fatuous, and
+astigmatic.
+
+Then he thought of Rue Carew. And, in his bosom, an intense desire to
+distinguish himself began to burn.
+
+If there were any way on earth to trace that accursed box----
+
+He turned abruptly and looked at the two gipsies, who had relinquished
+Sangoun's hand and who were still conversing together in low tones
+while Sangoun beat time on the jingling table top and sang joyously
+at the top of his baritone voice:
+
+ "Eh, zoum--zoum--zoum!
+ Boum--boum--boum!
+ Here's to the Artillery
+ Gaily riding by!
+ Fetch me a distillery,
+ Let me drink it dry--
+ Fill me full of sillery!
+ Here's to the artillery!
+ Zoum--zoum--zoum!
+ Boum--boum--boum!"
+
+"Fifi!"
+
+"_M'sieu?_"
+
+"You're so clever! Where is that Yellow Devil now?"
+
+"Pouf!" giggled Fifi. "On its way to Berlin, _pardie_!"
+
+"That's easy to say. Tell me something else more expensive."
+
+Nini said, surprised:
+
+"What we know is free to Prince Erlik's friend. Did you think we sell
+to Russians?"
+
+"I don't know anything about you or where you get your information,"
+said Neeland. "I suppose you're in the Secret Service of the Russian
+Government."
+
+"_Mon ami_, Nilan," said Fifi, smiling, "we should feel lonely
+_outside_ the Secret Service. Few in Europe are outside--few in the
+world, fewer in the half-world. As for us Tziganes, who belong to
+neither, the business of everybody becomes our secret to sell for a
+silver piece--but _not_ to Russians in the moment of peril!... Nor to
+their comrades.... What do you desire to know, _comrade_?"
+
+"Anything," he said simply, "that might help me to regain what I have
+lost."
+
+"And what do you suppose!" exclaimed Fifi, opening her magnificent
+black eyes very wide. "Did you imagine that nobody was paying any
+attention to what happened in the rue Soleil d'Or this noon?"
+
+Nini laughed.
+
+"The word flew as fast as the robber's taxicab. How many thousand
+secret friends to the Triple Entente do you suppose knew of it half an
+hour after it happened? From the Trocadero to Montparnasse, from the
+Point du Jour to Charenton, from the Bois to the Bievre, the word
+flew. Every taxicab, omnibus, _sapin_, every _bateau-mouche_, every
+train that left any terminal was watched.
+
+"Five embassies and legations were instantly under redoubled
+surveillance; hundreds of cafes, bars, restaurants, _hotels_; all the
+theatres, gardens, cabarets, _brasseries_.
+
+"Your pigs of Apaches are not neglected, _va_! But, to my idea, they
+got out of Paris before we watchers knew of the affair at all--in an
+automobile, perhaps--perhaps by rail. God knows," said the girl,
+looking absently at the dancing which had begun again. "But if we ever
+lay our eyes on Minna Minti, we wear toys in our garters which will
+certainly persuade her to take a little stroll with us."
+
+After a silence, Neeland said:
+
+"Is Minna Minti then so well known?"
+
+"Not at the Opera Comique," replied Fifi with a shrug, "but _since_
+then."
+
+"An _artiste_, that woman!" added Nini. "Why deny it? It appears that
+she has twisted more than one red button out of a broadcloth coat."
+
+"She'll get the Seraglio medal for this day's work," said Fifi.
+
+"Or the _croix-de-fer_," added Nini. "Ah, _zut_! She annoys me."
+
+"Did you ever hear of a place called the Cafe des Bulgars?" asked
+Neeland, carelessly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What sort of place is it?"
+
+"Like any other."
+
+"Quite respectable?"
+
+"Perfectly," said Nini, smiling. "One drinks good beer there."
+
+"Munich beer," added Fifi.
+
+"Then it is watched?" asked Neeland.
+
+"All German cafes are watched. Otherwise, it is not suspected."
+
+Sengoun, who had been listening, shook his head. "There's nothing to
+interest us at the Cafe des Bulgars," he said. Then he summoned a
+waiter and pointed tragically at the empty goblets.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE CAFE DES BULGARS
+
+
+Their adieux to Fifi and Nini were elaborate and complicated by bursts
+of laughter. The Tziganes recommended Captain Sengoun to go home and
+seek further adventures on his pillow; and had it not been for the gay
+babble of the fountain and the persistent perfume of flowers, he might
+have followed their advice.
+
+It was after the two young men had left the Jardin Russe that Captain
+Sengoun positively but affectionately refused to relinquish possession
+of Neeland's arm.
+
+"Dear friend," he explained, "I am just waking up and I do not wish to
+go to bed for days and days."
+
+"But I do," returned Neeland, laughing. "Where do you want to go now,
+Prince Erlik?"
+
+The champagne was singing loudly in the Cossack's handsome head; the
+distant brilliancy beyond the Place de la Concorde riveted his roving
+eyes.
+
+"Over there," he said joyously. "Listen, old fellow, I'll teach you
+the skating step as we cross the Place! Then, in the first _Bal_, you
+shall try it on the fairest form since Helen fell and Troy burned--or
+Troy fell and Helen burned--it's all the same, old fellow--what you
+call fifty-fifty, eh?"
+
+Neeland tried to free his arm--to excuse himself; two policemen
+laughed; but Sengoun, linking his arm more firmly in Neeland's,
+crossed the Place in a series of Dutch rolls and outer edges, in which
+Neeland was compelled to join. The Russian was as light and graceful
+on his feet as one of the dancers of his own country; Neeland's
+knowledge of skating aided his own less agile steps. There was
+sympathetic applause from passing taxis and _fiacres_; and they might,
+apparently, have had any number of fair partners for the asking, along
+the way, except for Sengoun's headlong dive toward the brightest of
+the boulevard lights beyond.
+
+In the rue Royal, however, Sengoun desisted with sudden access of
+dignity, remarking that such gambols were not worthy of the best
+traditions of his Embassy; and he attempted to bribe the drivers of a
+couple of hansom cabs to permit him and his comrade to take the reins
+and race to the Arc de Triomphe.
+
+Failing in this, he became profusely autobiographical, informing
+Neeland of his birth, education, aims, aspirations.
+
+"When I was twelve," he said, "I had known already the happiness of
+the battle-shock against Kurd, Mongol, and Tartar. At eighteen my
+ambition was to slap the faces of three human monsters. I told
+everybody that I was making arrangements to do this, and I started for
+Brusa after my first monster--Fehim Effendi--but the Vali telegraphed
+to the Grand Vizier, and the Grand Vizier ran to Abdul the Damned, and
+Abdul yelled for Sir Nicholas O'Connor; and they caught me in the Pera
+Palace and handed me over to my Embassy."
+
+Neeland shouted with laughter:
+
+"Who were the other monsters?" he asked.
+
+"The other two whose countenances I desired to slap? Oh, one was Abdul
+Houda, the Sultan's star-reader, who chattered about my Dark Star
+horoscope in the Yildiz. And the other was the Sultan."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Abdul Hamid."
+
+"What? You wished to slap _his_ face?"
+
+"Certainly. But Kutchuk Said and Kiamil Pasha requested me not
+to--accompanied by gendarmes."
+
+"You'd have lost your life," remarked Neeland.
+
+"Yes. But then war would surely have come, and today my Emperor would
+have held the Dardanelles where the Turkish flag is now flying over
+German guns and German gunners."
+
+He shook his head:
+
+"Great mistake on my part," he muttered. "Should have pulled Abdul's
+lop ears. Now, everything in Turkey is 'Yasak' except what Germans do
+and say; and God knows we are farther than ever from St. Sophia....
+I'm very thirsty with thinking so much, old fellow. Did you ever drink
+German champagne?"
+
+"I believe not----"
+
+"Come on, then. You shall drink several gallons and never feel it.
+It's the only thing German I could ever swallow."
+
+"Prince Erlik, you have had considerable refreshment already."
+
+"_Copain, t'en fais pas!_"
+
+The spectacle of two young fellows in evening dress, in a friendly
+tug-of-war under the lamp-posts of the Boulevard, amused the passing
+populace; and Sengoun, noticing this, was inclined to mount a
+boulevard bench and address the wayfarers, but Neeland pulled him down
+and persuaded him into a quieter street, the rue Vilna.
+
+"There's a German place, now!" exclaimed Sengoun, delighted.
+
+And Neeland, turning to look, perceived the illuminated sign of the
+Cafe des Bulgars.
+
+German champagne had now become Sengoun's fixed idea; nothing could
+dissuade him from it, nothing persuade him into a homeward bound taxi.
+So Neeland, with a rather hazy idea that he ought not to do it,
+entered the cafe with Senguon; and they seated themselves on a leather
+wall-lounge before one of the numerous marble-topped tables.
+
+"Listen," he said in a low voice to his companion, "this is a German
+cafe, and we must be careful what we say. I'm not any too prudent and
+I may forget this; but don't _you_!"
+
+"Quite right, old fellow!" replied Sengoun, giving him an owlish look.
+"I must never forget I'm a diplomat among these _sales Boches_----"
+
+"Be careful, Sengoun! That expression is not diplomatic."
+
+"Careful is the word, _mon vieux_," returned the other loudly and
+cheerfully. "I'll bet you a dollar, three kopeks, and two sous that I
+go over there and kiss the cashier----"
+
+"No! Be a real diplomat, Sengoun!"
+
+"I'm sorry you feel that way, Neeland, because she's unusually pretty.
+And we might establish a triple entente until you find some Argive
+Helen to quadruple it. Aha! Here is our German champagne! Positively
+the only thing German a Russian can----"
+
+"Listen! This won't do. People are looking at us----"
+
+"Right, old fellow--always right! You know, Neeland, this friendship
+of ours is the most precious, most delightful, and most inspiring
+experience of my life. Here's a full goblet to our friendship! Hurrah!
+As for Enver Pasha, may Erlik seize him!"
+
+After they had honoured the toast, Sengoun looked about him
+pleasantly, receptive, ready for any eventuality. And observing no
+symptoms of any eventuality whatever, he suggested creating one.
+
+"Dear comrade," he said, "I think I shall arise and make an incendiary
+address----"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Very well, if you feel that way about it. But there is another way to
+render the evening agreeable. You see that sideboard?" he continued,
+pointing to a huge carved buffet piled to the ceiling with porcelain
+and crystal. "What will you wager that I can not push it over with one
+hand?"
+
+But Neeland declined the wager with an impatient gesture, and kept his
+eyes riveted on a man who had just entered the cafe. He could see only
+the stranger's well-groomed back, but when, a moment later, the man
+turned to seat himself, Neeland was not surprised to find himself
+looking at Doc Curfoot.
+
+"Sengoun," he said under his breath, "that _type_ who just came in is
+an American gambler named Doc Curfoot; and he is here with other
+gamblers for the purpose of obtaining political information for some
+government other than my own."
+
+Sengoun regarded the new arrival with amiable curiosity:
+
+"That worm? Oh, well, every city in Europe swarms with such maggots,
+you know. It would be quite funny if he tries any blandishments on us,
+wouldn't it?"
+
+"He may. He's a capper. He's looking at us now. I believe he remembers
+having seen me in the train."
+
+"As for an hour or two at chemin-de-fer, baccarat, or roulette,"
+remarked Sengoun, "I am not averse to a----"
+
+"Watch him! The waiter who is taking his order may know who you
+are--may be telling that gambler.... I believe he _did_! Now, let us
+see what happens...."
+
+Sengoun, delighted at the prospect of an eventuality, blandly emptied
+his goblet and smiled generally upon everybody.
+
+"I hope he will make our acquaintance and ask us to play," he said.
+"I'm very lucky at chemin-de-fer. And if I lose I shall conclude that
+there is trickery. Which would make it very lively for everybody," he
+added with a boyish smile. But his dark eyes began to glitter and he
+showed his beautiful, even teeth when he laughed.
+
+"Ha!" he said. "A little what you call a mix-up might not come amiss!
+That gives one an appetite; that permits one to perspire; that does
+good to everybody and makes one sleep soundly! Shall we, as you say in
+America, start something?"
+
+Neeland, thinking of Ali-Baba and Golden Beard and of their undoubted
+instigation by telegraph of the morning's robbery, wondered whether
+the rendezvous of the robbers might not possibly be here in the Cafe
+des Bulgars.
+
+The gang of Americans in the train had named Kestner, Breslau, and
+Weishelm--the one man of the gang whom he had never seen--as
+prospective partners in this enterprise.
+
+Here, somewhere in this building, were their gambling headquarters.
+Was there any possible chance that the stolen box and its contents
+might have been brought here for temporary safety?
+
+Might it not now be hidden somewhere in this very building by men too
+cunning to risk leaving the city when every train and every road would
+be watched within an hour of the time that the robbery was
+committed?
+
+Leaning back carelessly on the lounge and keeping his eyes on the
+people in the cafe, Neeland imparted these ideas to Sengoun in a low
+voice--told him everything he knew in regard to the affair, and asked
+his opinion.
+
+"My opinion," said Sengoun, who was enchanted at any prospect of
+trouble, "is that this house is 'suspect' and is worth searching. Of
+course the Prefect could be notified, arrangements made, and a search
+by the secret police managed. But, Neeland, my friend, think of what
+pleasure _we_ should be deprived!"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Why not search the place ourselves?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well, of course, we could be picturesque, go to my Embassy, and fill
+our pockets with automatic pistols, and come back here and--well, make
+them stand around and see how high they could reach with both hands."
+
+Neeland laughed.
+
+"That would be a funny jest, wouldn't it?" said Sengoun.
+
+"Very funny. But----" He nudged Sengoun and directed his attention
+toward the terrace outside, where waiters were already removing the
+little iron tables and the chairs, and the few lingering guests were
+coming inside the cafe.
+
+"I see," muttered Sengoun; "it is already Sunday morning, and they're
+closing. It's too late to go to the Embassy. They'd not let us in here
+when we returned."
+
+Neeland summoned a waiter with a nod:
+
+"When do you close up inside here?"
+
+"Tomorrow being Sunday, the terrace closes now, monsieur; but the cafe
+remains open all night," explained the waiter with a noticeable German
+accent.
+
+"Thank you." And, to Sengoun: "I'd certainly like to go upstairs. I'd
+like to see what it looks like up there--take a glance around."
+
+"Very well, let us go up----"
+
+"We ought to have some excuse----"
+
+"We'll think of several on the way," rising with alacrity, but Neeland
+pulled him back.
+
+"Wait a moment! It would only mean a fight----"
+
+"All fights," explained Sengoun seriously, "are agreeable--some more
+so. So if you are ready, dear comrade----"
+
+"But a row will do us no good----"
+
+"Pardon, dear friend, I have been in serious need of one for an hour
+or two----"
+
+"I don't mean that sort of 'good,'" explained Neeland, laughing. "I
+mean that I wish to look about up there--explore----"
+
+"Quite right, old fellow--always right! But--here's an idea! I could
+stand at the head of the stairs and throw them down as they mounted,
+while you had leisure to look around for your stolen box----"
+
+"My dear Prince Erlik, we've nothing to shoot with, and it's likely
+they have. There's only one way to get upstairs with any chance of
+learning anything useful. And that is to start a row between
+ourselves." And, raising his voice as though irritated, he called for
+the reckoning, adding in a tone perfectly audible to anybody in the
+vicinity that he knew where roulette was played, and that he was going
+whether or not his friend accompanied him.
+
+Sengoun, delighted, recognised his cue and protested in loud, nasal
+tones that the house to which his comrade referred was suspected of
+unfair play; and a noisy dispute began, listened to attentively by the
+pretty but brightly painted cashier, the waiters, the _gerant_, and
+every guest in the neighbourhood.
+
+"As for me," cried Sengoun, feigning to lose his temper, "I have no
+intention of being tricked. I was not born yesterday--not I! If there
+is to be found an honest wheel in Paris that would suit me. Otherwise,
+I go home to bed!"
+
+"It _is_ an honest wheel, I tell you----"
+
+"It is not! I know that place!"
+
+"Be reasonable----"
+
+"Reasonable!" repeated Sengoun appealingly to the people around them.
+"Permit me to ask these unusually intelligent gentlemen whether it is
+reasonable to play roulette in a place where the wheel is notoriously
+controlled and the management a dishonest one! Could a gentleman be
+expected to frequent or even to countenance places of evil repute?
+_Messieurs_, I await your verdict!" And he folded his arms
+dramatically.
+
+Somebody said, from a neighbouring table:
+
+"_Vous avez parfaitement raison, monsieur!_"
+
+"I thank you," cried Sengoun, with an admirably dramatic bow.
+"Therefore, I shall now go home to bed!"
+
+Neeland, maintaining his gravity with difficulty, followed Sengoun
+toward the door, still pretending to plead with him; and the _gerant_,
+a tall, blond, rosy and unmistakable German, stepped forward to unlock
+the door.
+
+As he laid his hand on the bolt he said in a whisper:
+
+"If the gentlemen desire the privilege of an exclusive club where
+everything is unquestionably conducted----"
+
+"Where?" demanded Neeland, abruptly.
+
+"On the third floor, _monsieur_."
+
+"Here?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. If the gentlemen will honour me with their names, and
+will be seated for one little moment, I shall see what can be
+accomplished."
+
+"Very well," said Sengoun, with a short, incredulous laugh. "I'm
+Prince Erlik, of the Mongol Embassy, and my comrade is Mr. Neeland,
+Consul General of the United States of America in the Grand Duchy of
+Gerolstein!"
+
+The _gerant_ smiled. After he had gone away toward the further room in
+the cafe, Neeland remarked to Sengoun that doubtless their real names
+were perfectly well known, and Sengoun disdainfully shrugged his
+indifference:
+
+"What can one expect in this dirty rat-nest of Europe? Abdul the
+Damned employed one hundred thousand spies in Constantinople alone!
+And William the Sudden admired him. Why, Neeland, _mon ami_, I never
+take a step in the streets without being absolutely certain that I am
+watched and followed. What do I care! Except that towns make me sick.
+But the only cure is a Khirgiz horse and a thousand lances. God send
+them. I'm sick of cities."
+
+A few moments later the _gerant_ returned and, in a low voice,
+requested them to accompany him.
+
+They passed leisurely through the cafe, between tables where lowered
+eyes seemed to deny any curiosity; but guests and waiters looked after
+them after they had passed, and here and there people whispered
+together--particularly two men who had followed them from the
+sun-dial fountain in the rue Soleil d'Or to the Jardin Russe, across
+the Place de la Concorde, and into the Cafe des Bulgars in the rue
+Vilna.
+
+On the stairs Neeland heard Sengoun still muttering to himself:
+
+"Certainly I am sick of cities and narrow strips of sky. What I need
+is a thousand lances at a gallop, and a little Kirghiz horse between
+my knees."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+THE CERCLE EXTRANATIONALE
+
+
+The suite of rooms into which they were ushered appeared to be
+furnished in irreproachable taste. Except for the _salon_ at the
+further end of the suite, where play was in progress, the charming
+apartment might have been a private one; and the homelike simplicity
+of the room, where books, flowers, and even a big, grey cat confirmed
+the first agreeable impression, accented the lurking smile on
+Sengoun's lips.
+
+Doc Curfoot, in evening dress, came forward to receive them, in
+company with another man, young, nice-looking, very straight, and with
+the high, square shoulders of a Prussian.
+
+"_Bong soire, mussoors_," said Curfoot genially. "_J'ai l'honnoor de
+vous faire connaitre mong ami, Mussoor Weishelm._"
+
+They exchanged very serious bows with "Mussoor" Weishelm, and Curfoot
+retired.
+
+In excellent French Weishelm inquired whether they desired supper; and
+learning that they did not, bowed smilingly and bade them welcome:
+
+"You are at home, gentlemen; the house is yours. If it pleases you to
+sup, we offer you our hospitality; if you care to play, the _salon_ is
+at your disposal, or, if you prefer, a private room. Yonder is the
+buffet; there are electric bells at your elbow. You are at home," he
+repeated, clicked his heels together, bowed, and took his leave.
+
+Sengoun dropped into a comfortable chair and sent a waiter for caviar,
+toast, and German champagne.
+
+Neeland lighted a cigarette, seated himself, and looked about him
+curiously.
+
+Over in a corner on a sofa a rather pretty woman, a cigarette between
+her jewelled fingers, was reading an evening newspaper. Two others in
+the adjoining room, young and attractive, their feet on the fireplace
+fender, conversed together over a sandwich, a glass of the widely
+advertised Dubonnet, and another of the equally advertised Bon Lait
+Maggi--as serenely and as comfortably as though they were by their own
+firesides.
+
+"Perhaps they are," remarked Sengoun, plastering an oblong of hot
+toast with caviar. "Birds of this kind nest easily anywhere."
+
+Neeland continued to gaze toward the _salon_ where play was in
+progress. There did not seem to be many people there. At a small table
+he recognised Brandes and Stull playing what appeared to be bridge
+whist with two men whom he had never before seen. There were no women
+playing.
+
+As he watched the round, expressionless face of Brandes, who was
+puffing a long cigar screwed tightly into the corner of his
+thin-lipped mouth, it occurred to him somewhat tardily what Rue Carew
+had said concerning personal danger to himself if any of these people
+believed him capable of reconstructing from memory any of the stolen
+plans.
+
+He had not thought about that specific contingency; instinct alone had
+troubled him a little when he first entered the Cafe des Bulgars.
+
+However, his unquiet eyes could discover nothing of either Kestner or
+Breslau; and, somehow, he did not even think of encountering Ilse
+Dumont in such a place. As for Brandes and Stull, they did not
+recognise him at all.
+
+So, entirely reassured once more by the absence of Ali-Baba and Golden
+Beard, and of Scheherazade whom he had no fear of meeting, Neeland ate
+his caviar with a relish and examined his surroundings.
+
+Of course it was perfectly possible that the stolen papers had been
+brought here. There were three other floors in the building, too, and
+he wondered what they were used for.
+
+Sengoun's appetite for conflict waned as he ate and drank; and a
+violent desire to gamble replaced it.
+
+"You poke about a bit," he said to Neeland. "Talk to that girl over
+there and see what you can learn. As for me, I mean to start a little
+flirtation with Mademoiselle Fortuna. Does that suit you?"
+
+If Sengoun wished to play it was none of Neeland's business.
+
+"Do you think it an honest game?" he asked, doubtfully.
+
+"With negligible stakes all first-class gamblers are honest."
+
+"If I were you, Sengoun, I wouldn't drink anything more."
+
+"Excellent advice, old fellow!" emptying his goblet with satisfaction.
+And, rising to his firm and graceful height, he strolled away toward
+the _salon_ where play progressed amid the most decorous and edifying
+of atmospheres.
+
+Neeland watched him disappear, then he glanced curiously at the girl
+on the sofa who was still preoccupied with her newspaper.
+
+So he rose, sauntered about the room examining the few pictures and
+bronzes, modern but excellent. The carpet under foot was thick and
+soft, but, as he strolled past the girl who seemed to be so intently
+reading, she looked up over her paper and returned his civil
+recognition of her presence with a slight smile.
+
+As he appeared inclined to linger, she said with pleasant
+self-possession:
+
+"These newspaper rumours, monsieur, are becoming too persistent to
+amuse us much longer. War talk is becoming _vieux jeu_."
+
+"Why read them?" inquired Neeland with a smile.
+
+"Why?" She made a slight gesture. "One reads what is printed, I
+suppose."
+
+"Written and printed by people who know no more about the matter in
+question than you and I, mademoiselle," he remarked, still smiling.
+
+"That is perfectly true. Why is it worth while for anyone to search
+for truth in these days when everyone is paid to conceal it?"
+
+"Oh," he said, "not everyone."
+
+"No; some lie naturally and without pay," she admitted indifferently.
+
+"But there are still others. For example, mademoiselle, yourself."
+
+"I?" She laughed, not troubling to refute the suggestion of her
+possible truthfulness.
+
+He said:
+
+"This--club--is furnished in excellent taste."
+
+"Yes; it is quite new."
+
+"Has it a name?"
+
+"I believe it is called the Cercle Extranationale. Would monsieur also
+like to know the name of the club cat?"
+
+They both laughed easily, but he could make nothing of her.
+
+"Thank you," he said; "and I fear I have interrupted your
+reading----"
+
+"I have read enough lies; I am quite ready to tell you a few. Shall
+I?"
+
+"You are most amiable. I have been wondering what the other floors in
+this building are used for."
+
+"Private apartments," she replied smiling, looking him straight in the
+eyes. "Now you don't know whether I've told you the truth or not; do
+you?"
+
+"Of course I know."
+
+"Which, then?"
+
+"The truth."
+
+She laughed and indicated a chair; and he seated himself.
+
+"Who is the dark, nice-looking gentleman accompanying you?" she
+enquired.
+
+"How could you see him at all through your newspaper?"
+
+"I poked a hole, of course."
+
+"To look at him or at me?"
+
+"Your mirror ought to reassure you. However, as an afterthought, who
+is he?"
+
+"Prince Erlik, of Mongolia," replied Neeland solemnly.
+
+"I supposed so. We of the infernal aristocracy belong together. I am
+the Contessa Diabletta d'Enfer."
+
+He inclined gravely:
+
+"I'm afraid I don't belong here," he said. "I'm only a Yankee."
+
+"Hell is full of them," she said, smiling. "All Yankees belong where
+Prince Erlik and I are at home.... Do you play?"
+
+"No. Do you?"
+
+"It depends on chance."
+
+"It would give me much pleasure----"
+
+"Thank you, not tonight." And in the same, level, pleasant voice:
+"Don't look immediately, but from where you sit you can see in the
+mirror opposite two women seated in the next room."
+
+After a moment he nodded.
+
+"Are they watching us?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. Neeland?"
+
+He reddened with surprise.
+
+"Get Captain Sengoun and leave," she said, still smiling. "Do it
+carelessly, convincingly. Neither of you needs courage; both of you
+lack common sense. Get up, take leave of me nicely but regretfully, as
+though I had denied you a rendezvous. You will be killed if you remain
+here."
+
+For a moment Neeland hesitated, but curiosity won:
+
+"Who is likely to try anything of that sort?" he asked. And a tingling
+sensation, not wholly unpleasant, passed over him.
+
+"Almost anyone here, if you are recognised," she said, as gaily as
+though she were imparting delightful information.
+
+"But _you_ recognise us. And I'm certainly not dead yet."
+
+"Which ought to tell you more about me than I am likely to tell
+anybody. Now, when I smile at you and shake my head, make your adieux
+to me, find Captain Sengoun, and take your departure. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"Are you really serious?"
+
+"It is you who should be serious. Now, I give you your signal,
+Monsieur Neeland----"
+
+But the smile stiffened on her pretty face, and at the same moment he
+was aware that somebody had entered the room and was standing directly
+behind him.
+
+He turned on his chair and looked up into the face of Ilse Dumont.
+
+There was a second's hesitation, then he was on his feet, greeting her
+cordially, apparently entirely at ease and with nothing on his mind
+except the agreeable surprise of the encounter.
+
+"I had your note," he said. "It was charming of you to write, but very
+neglectful of you not to include your address. Tell me, how have you
+been since I last saw you?"
+
+Ilse Dumont's red lips seemed to be dry, for she moistened them
+without speaking. In her eyes he saw peril--knowledge of something
+terrible--some instant menace.
+
+Then her eyes, charged with lightning, slowly turned from him to the
+girl on the sofa who had not moved. But in her eyes, too, a little
+flame began to flicker and play, and the fixed smile relaxed into an
+expression of cool self-possession.
+
+Neeland's pleasant, careless voice broke the occult tension:
+
+"This is a pretty club," he said; "everything here is in such
+excellent taste. You might have told me about it," he added to Ilse
+with smiling reproach; "but you never even mentioned it, and I
+discovered it quite by accident."
+
+Ilse Dumont seemed to find her voice with an effort:
+
+"May I have a word with you, Mr. Neeland?" she asked.
+
+"Always," he assured her promptly. "I am always more than happy to
+listen to you----"
+
+"Please follow me!"
+
+He turned to the girl on the sofa and made his adieux with
+conventional ceremony and a reckless smile which said:
+
+"You were quite right, mademoiselle; I'm in trouble already."
+
+Then he followed Ilse Dumont into the adjoining room, which was lined
+with filled bookcases and where the lounges and deep chairs were
+covered with leather.
+
+Halting by the library table, Ilse Dumont turned to him--turned on him
+a look such as he never before had encountered in any living woman's
+eyes--a dead gaze, dreadful, glazed, as impersonal as the fixed regard
+of a corpse.
+
+She said:
+
+"I came.... They sent for me.... I did not believe they had the right
+man.... I could not believe it, Neeland."
+
+A trifle shaken, he said in tones which sounded steady enough:
+
+"What frightens you so, Scheherazade?"
+
+"Why did you come? Are you absolutely mad?"
+
+"Mad? No, I don't think so," he replied with a forced smile. "What
+threatens me here, Scheherazade?"--regarding her pallid face
+attentively.
+
+"Death.... You must have known it when you came."
+
+"Death? No, I didn't know it."
+
+"Did you suppose that if they could get hold of you they'd let you
+go?--A man who might carry in his memory the plans for which they
+tried to kill you? I wrote to you--I wrote to you to go back to
+America! And--_this_ is what you have done instead!"
+
+"Well," he said in a pleasant but rather serious voice, "if you
+really believe there is danger for me if I remain here, perhaps I'd
+better go."
+
+"You _can't_ go!"
+
+"You think I'll be stopped?"
+
+"Yes. Who is your crazy companion? I heard that he is Alak
+Sengoun--the headlong fool--they call Prince Erlik. Is it true?"
+
+"Where did you hear all these things?" he demanded. "Where were you
+when you heard them?"
+
+"At the Turkish Embassy. Word came that they had caught you. I did not
+believe it; others present doubted it.... But as the rumour concerned
+_you_, I took no chances; I came instantly. I--I had rather be dead
+than see you here----" Her voice became unsteady, but she controlled
+it at once:
+
+"Neeland! Neeland! Why did you come? Why have you undone all I tried
+to do for you----?"
+
+He looked intently at Ilse Dumont, then his gaze swept the handsome
+suite of rooms. No one seemed to notice him; in perspective, men moved
+leisurely about the further _salon_, where play was going on; and
+there seemed to be no one else in sight. And, as he stood there, free,
+in full pride and vigour of youth and strength, he became incredulous
+that anything could threaten him which he could not take care of.
+
+A smile grew in his eyes, confident, humorous, a little hint of
+tenderness in it:
+
+"Scheherazade," he said, "you are a dear. You pulled me out of a
+dreadful mess on the _Volhynia_. I offer you gratitude, respect, and
+the very warm regard for you which I really cherish in my heart."
+
+He took her hands, kissed them, looked up half laughing, half in
+earnest.
+
+"If you're worried," he said, "I'll find Captain Sengoun and we'll
+depart----"
+
+She retained his hands in a convulsive clasp:
+
+"Oh, Neeland! Neeland! There are men below who will never let you
+pass! And Breslau and Kestner are coming here later. And that devil,
+Damat Mahmud Bey!"
+
+"Golden Beard and Ali Baba and the whole Arabian Nights!" exclaimed
+Neeland. "Who is Damat Mahmud Bey, Scheherazade dear?"
+
+"The shadow of Abdul Hamid."
+
+"Yes, dear child, but Abdul the Damned is shut up tight in a
+fortress!"
+
+"His shadow dogs the spurred heels of Enver Pasha," she said, striving
+to maintain her composure. "Oh, Neeland!--A hundred thousand Armenians
+are yet to die in that accursed shadow! And do you think Mahmud Damat
+will hesitate in regard to _you_!"
+
+"Nonsense! Does a murderous Moslem go about Paris killing people he
+doesn't happen to fancy? Those things aren't done----"
+
+"Have you and Sengoun any weapons at all?" she interrupted
+desperately, "Anything!--A sword cane----?"
+
+"No. What the devil does all this business mean?" he broke out
+impatiently. "What's all this menace of lawlessness--this impudent
+threat of interference----"
+
+"It is _war_!"
+
+"War?" he repeated, not quite understanding her.
+
+She caught him by the arm:
+
+"War!" she whispered; "War! Do you understand? They don't care what
+they do now! They mean to kill you here in this place. They'll be out
+of France before anybody finds you."
+
+"Has war actually been declared?" he asked, astounded.
+
+"Tomorrow! It is known in certain circles!" She dropped his arm and
+clasped her hands and stood there twisting them, white, desperate,
+looking about her like a hunted thing.
+
+"Why did you do this?" she repeated in an agonised voice. "What can I
+do? I'm no traitor!... But I'd give you a pistol if I had one----" She
+checked herself as the girl who had been reading an evening newspaper
+on a sofa, and to whom Neeland had been talking when Ilse Dumont
+entered, came sauntering into the room.
+
+The eyes of both women met; both turned a trifle paler. Then Ilse
+Dumont walked slowly up to the other:
+
+"I overheard your warning," she said with a deadly stare.
+
+"Really?"
+
+Ilse stretched out her bare arm, palm upward, and closed the fingers
+tightly:
+
+"I hold your life in my hand. I have only to speak. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You are lying. You _do_ understand. You take double wages; but it is
+not France you betray! Nor Russia!"
+
+"Are you insane?"
+
+"Almost. _Where do you carry them?_"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Answer quickly. _Where?_ I tell you, I'll expose you in another
+moment if you don't answer me! Speak quickly!"
+
+The other woman had turned a ghastly white; for a second or two she
+remained dumb, then, dry-lipped:
+
+"Above--the knee," she stammered; but there was scarcely a sound from
+the blanched lips that formed the words.
+
+"Pistols?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Loaded? Both of them?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Clips?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Unstrap them!"
+
+The woman turned, bent almost double, twisting her supple body
+entirely around; but Ilse Dumont was at her side like a flash and
+caught her wrist as she withdrew her hand from the hem of her fluffy
+skirt.
+
+"Now--_take_ your life!" said Ilse Dumont between her teeth. "There's
+the door! Go out!"--following her with blazing eyes--"Stop! Stand
+where you are until I come!"
+
+Then she came quickly to where Neeland stood, astonished; and thrust
+two automatic pistols into his hands.
+
+"Get Sengoun," she whispered. "Don't go _down_-stairs, for God's sake.
+Get to the roof, if you can. Try--oh, try, try, Neeland, my friend!"
+Her voice trembled; she looked into his eyes--gave him, in that swift
+regard, all that a woman withholds until the right man asks.
+
+Her lips quivered; she turned sharply on her heel, went to the outer
+hallway, where the other woman stood motionless.
+
+"What am I to do with _you_?" demanded Ilse Dumont. "Do you think you
+are going out of here to summon the police? Mount those stairs!"
+
+The woman dropped her hand on the banisters, heavily, set foot on the
+first stair, then slowly mounted as though her little feet in their
+dainty evening slippers were weighted with ball and chain.
+
+Ilse Dumont followed her, opened a door in the passage, motioned her
+to enter. It was a bedroom that the electric light revealed. The woman
+entered and stood by the bed as though stupefied.
+
+"I'll keep my word to you," said Ilse Dumont. "When it becomes too
+late for you to do us any mischief, I'll return and let you go."
+
+And she stepped back across the threshold and locked the door on the
+outside.
+
+As she did so, Neeland and Sengoun came swiftly up the stairs, and she
+beckoned them to follow, gathered the skirts of her evening gown into
+one hand, and ran up the stairs ahead of them to the fifth floor.
+
+In the dim light Neeland saw that the top floor was merely a vast
+attic full of debris from the cafe on the ground floor--iron tables
+which required mending or repainting, iron chairs, great jars of
+artificial stone with dead baytrees standing in them, parts of rusty
+stoves and kitchen ranges, broken cutlery in boxes, cracked table
+china and heavier kitchen crockery in tubs which once had held
+flowers.
+
+The only windows gave on a court. Through their dirty panes already
+the grey light of that early Sunday morning glimmered, revealing the
+contents of the shadowy place, and the position of an iron ladder
+hooked to two rings under the scuttle overhead.
+
+Ilse Dumont laid her finger on her lips, conjuring silence, then,
+clutching her silken skirts, she started up the iron ladder, reached
+the top, and, exerting all her strength, lifted the hinged scuttle
+leading to the leads outside.
+
+Instantly somebody challenged her in a guttural voice. She stood there
+a few moments in whispered conversation, then, from outside, somebody
+lowered the scuttle cover; the girl locked it, descended the iron
+ladder backwards, and came swiftly across to where Neeland and Sengoun
+were standing, pistols lifted.
+
+"They're guarding the roof," she whispered, "--two men. It is
+hopeless, that way."
+
+"The proper way," said Sengoun calmly, "is for us to shoot our way out
+of this!"
+
+The girl turned on him in a passion:
+
+"Do you suppose I care what happens to _you_?" she said. "If there
+were no one else to consider you might do as you pleased, for all it
+concerns me!"
+
+Sengoun reddened:
+
+"Be silent, you treacherous little cat!" he retorted. "Do you imagine
+your riffraff are going to hold _me_ here when I'm ready to depart!
+_Me!_ A free Cossack! Bah!"
+
+"Don't talk that way, Sengoun," said Neeland sharply. "We owe these
+pistols to her."
+
+"Oh," muttered Sengoun, shooting a menacing glance at her. "I didn't
+understand that." Then his scowl softened and a sudden laugh cleared
+his face.
+
+"I'm sorry, mademoiselle," he said. "You're quite welcome to your low
+opinion of me. But if anyone should ask me, I'd say that I don't
+understand what is happening to us. And after a while I'll become
+angry and go downstairs for information."
+
+"They know nothing about you in the _salle de jeu_," she said, "but on
+the floor below they're waiting to kill you."
+
+Neeland, astonished, asked her whether the American gamblers in the
+_salon_ where Sengoun had been playing were ignorant of what was going
+on in the house.
+
+"What Americans?" she demanded, incredulously. "Do you mean
+Weishelm?"
+
+"Didn't you know there were Americans employed in the _salle de jeu_?"
+asked Neeland, surprised.
+
+"No. I have not been in this house for a year until I came tonight.
+This place is maintained by the Turkish Government--" She flashed a
+glance at Sengoun--"_you're_ welcome to the information now," she
+added contemptuously. And then, to Neeland: "There was, I believe,
+some talk in New York about adding one or two Americans to the
+personnel, but I opposed it."
+
+"They're here," said Neeland drily.
+
+"Do you know who they are?"
+
+"Yes. There's a man called Doc Curfoot----"
+
+"_Who!!_"
+
+And suddenly, for the first time, Neeland remembered that she had been
+the wife of one of the men below.
+
+"Brandes and Stull are the others," he said mechanically.
+
+The girl stared at him as though she did not comprehend, and she
+passed one hand slowly across her forehead and eyes.
+
+"Eddie Brandes? _Here?_ And Stull? Curfoot? _Here in this house!_"
+
+"In the _salon_ below."
+
+"They _can't_ be!" she protested in an odd, colourless voice. "They
+were bought soul and body by the British Secret Service!"
+
+All three stood staring at one another; the girl flushed, clenched her
+hand, then let it fall by her side as though utterly overcome.
+
+"All this espionage!" cried Sengoun, furiously. "--It makes me sick, I
+tell you! Where everybody betrays everybody is no place for a free
+Cossack!----"
+
+The terrible expression on the girl's face checked him; she said,
+slowly:
+
+"It is we others who have been betrayed, it seems. It is _we_ who are
+trapped here. They've got us all--every one of us. Oh, my God!--every
+one of us--at last!"
+
+She lifted her haggard face and stared at the increasing light which
+was turning the window panes a sickly yellow.
+
+"With sunrise comes war," she said in a stunned voice, as though to
+convince herself. "We are caught here in this house. And Kestner and
+Weishelm and Breslau and I----" she trembled, framing her burning face
+in slim hands that were like ice. "Do you understand that Brandes and
+Curfoot, bought by England, have contracted to deliver us to a French
+court martial?"
+
+The men looked at her in silence.
+
+"Kestner and Breslau knew they had been bought. One of our own people
+witnessed that treachery. But we never dreamed that these traitors
+would venture into this house tonight. We should have come here
+ourselves instead of going to the Turkish Embassy. That was Mahmud
+Damat's meddling! His messenger insisted. God! What a mistake! What a
+deathly mistake for all of us!"
+
+She leaned for a moment against one of the iron pillars which
+supported the attic roof, and covered her face with her hands.
+
+After a moment, Neeland said:
+
+"I don't understand why you can't leave this house if you are in
+danger. You say that there are men downstairs who are waiting to kill
+us--waiting only for Kestner and Breslau and Mahmud Damat to arrive."
+
+She said faintly:
+
+"I did not before understand Mahmud's delay. Now, I understand. He has
+been warned. Breslau and Kestner will not come. Otherwise, you now
+would be barricaded behind that breastwork of rubbish, fighting for
+your lives."
+
+"But you say there are men on the stairs below who are ready to kill
+us if we try to leave the house."
+
+"They, too, are trapped without knowing it. War will come with
+sunrise. This house has been under surveillance since yesterday
+afternoon. They have not closed in on us yet, because they are leaving
+the trap open in hopes of catching us all. They are waiting for
+Breslau and Kestner and Mahmud Damat.... But they'll never come,
+now.... They are out of the city by this time.... I know them. They
+are running for their lives at this hour.... And we--we lesser
+ones--caught here--trapped--reserved for a French court martial and a
+firing squad in a barrack square!"
+
+She shuddered and pressed her hands over her temples.
+
+Neeland said:
+
+"I am going to stand by you. Captain Sengoun will do the same."
+
+She shook her head:
+
+"No use," she said with a shiver. "I am too well known. They have my
+_dossier_ almost complete. My _proces_ will be a brief one."
+
+"Can't you get away by the roof? There are two of your men up
+there."
+
+"They themselves are caught, and do not even know it. They too will
+face a squad of execution before the sun rises tomorrow. And they
+never dream of it up there----"
+
+She made a hopeless gesture:
+
+"What is the use! When I came here from the Turkish Embassy, hearing
+that you were here but believing the information false, I discovered
+you conversing with a Russian spy--overheard her warn you to leave
+this house.
+
+"And there, all the while, unknown to me, in the _salle de jeu_ were
+Curfoot and that unspeakable scoundrel Brandes! Why, the place was
+swarming with enemies--and I never dreamed it!... Yet--I might have
+feared some such thing--I might have feared that the man, Brandes, who
+had betrayed me once, would do it again if he ever had the chance....
+And he's done it."
+
+There was a long silence. Ilse stood staring at the melancholy greyish
+light on the window panes.
+
+She said as though to herself:
+
+"I shall never see another daybreak."... After a moment she turned and
+began to pace the attic, a strange, terrible figure of haggard youth
+in the shadowy light. "How horribly still it is at daybreak!" she
+breathed, halting before Neeland. "How deathly quiet----"
+
+The dry crack of a pistol cut her short. Then, instantly, in the dim
+depths of the house, shot followed shot in bewildering succession,
+faster, faster, filling the place with a distracting tumult.
+
+Neeland jerked up his pistol as a nearer volley rattled out on the
+landing directly underneath.
+
+Sengoun, exasperated, shouted:
+
+"Well, what the devil is all this!" and ran toward the head of the
+stairs, his pistol lifted for action.
+
+Then, in the garret doorway, Weishelm appeared, his handsome face
+streaming blood. He staggered, turned mechanically toward the stairs
+again with wavering revolver; but a shot drove him blindly backward
+and another hurled him full length across the floor, where he lay with
+both arms spread out, and the last tremors, running from his feet to
+his twitching face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+A RAT HUNT
+
+
+The interior of the entire house was now in an uproar; shots came fast
+from every landing; the semi-dusk of stair-well and corridor was
+lighted by incessant pistol flashes and the whole building echoed the
+deafening racket.
+
+"What do you make of it?" shouted Sengoun furiously, standing like a
+baited and perplexed bull. "Who's fighting who in this fool of a
+place? By Erlik! I'd like to know whom I'm to fire at!"
+
+Ilse Dumont, creeping along the wall, looked fearfully down at
+Weishelm who no longer moved where he lay on the dusty floor, with
+eyes and mouth open and his distorted face already half covered by a
+wet and crawling scarlet mask.
+
+"Brandes and Stull are betraying us," she whispered. "They are killing
+my comrades--on the stairs down there----"
+
+"If that is true," called out Neeland in a low, cautious voice, "you'd
+better wait a moment, Sengoun!"
+
+But Sengoun's rage for combat had already filled him to overflowing,
+and the last rag of patience left him.
+
+"I don't care who is fighting!" he bellowed. "It's all one to me! Now
+is the time to shoot our way out of this. Come on, Neeland! Hurrah for
+the Terek Cossacks! Another town taken! Hurrah!"
+
+Neeland caught Ilse by the wrist:
+
+"You'd better get free of this house while you can!" he said, dragging
+her with him after Sengoun, who had already reached the head of the
+stairs and was starting down, peering about for a target.
+
+Suddenly, on the landing below, Golden Beard and Ali Baba appeared,
+caught sight of Sengoun and Neeland above, and opened fire on them
+instantly, driving them back from the head of the staircase flat
+against the corridor wall. But Golden Beard, seeming to realise now
+that the garret landing was held and the way to the roof cut off,
+began to retreat from the foot of the garret stairs with Ali Baba
+following, their restless, upward-pointed pistols searching for the
+slightest movement in the semi-obscurity of the hallway above.
+
+Sengoun, fuming and fretting, had begun to creep toward the head of
+the stairs again, when there came a rattling hail of shots from below,
+a rush, the trample of feet, the crash of furniture and startling slam
+of a door.
+
+Downstairs straight toward the uproar ran Sengoun with Neeland beside
+him. The halls were swimming in acrid fumes; the floors trembled and
+shook under the shock as a struggling, fighting knot of men went
+tumbling down the stairway below, reached the landing and burst into
+the rooms of the Cercle Extranationale.
+
+Leaning over the banisters, Neeland saw Golden Beard turn on Doc
+Curfoot, raging, magnificent as a Viking, his blue eyes ablaze. He
+hurled his empty pistol at the American; seized chairs, bronzes,
+andirons, the clock from the mantel, and sent a storm of heavy
+missiles through the doorway among the knot of men who were pressing
+him and who had already seized Ali Baba.
+
+Then, from the banisters above, Neeland and Sengoun saw Brandes,
+moving stealthily, swiftly, edge his way to a further door.
+
+Steadying the elbow of his pistol hand in the hollow cup of his left
+palm, his weapon level, swerving as his quarry moved, he presently
+fired at Golden Beard and got him through the back. And then he shot
+him again deliberately, through the body, as the giant turned, made a
+menacing gesture toward him; took an uncertain step in his direction;
+another step, wavering, blindly grotesque; then stood swaying there
+under the glare of the partly shattered chandelier from which hung
+long shreds of crystal prisms.
+
+And Brandes, aiming once more with methodical and merciless precision,
+and taking what time he required to make a bull's-eye on this great,
+reeling, golden-crowned bull, fired the third shot at his magnificent
+head.
+
+The bronze Barye lion dropped from Golden Beard's nerveless fist; the
+towering figure, stiffening, fell over rather slowly and lay across
+the velvet carpet as rigid as a great tree.
+
+Brandes went into the room, leaned over the dying man and fired into
+his body until his pistol was empty. Then he replaced the exhausted
+clip leisurely, leering down at his victim.
+
+There was a horrid sound from the stairs, where Curfoot and another
+man were killing a waiter. Strange, sinister faces appeared everywhere
+from the smoke-filled club rooms; Stull came out into the hallway
+below and shouted up through the stair-well:
+
+"Say, Eddie! For Christ's sake come down here! There's a mob outside
+on the street and they're tearing the iron shutters off the cafe!"
+
+Curfoot immediately started downstairs; Brandes, pistol in hand, came
+slowly out of the club rooms, still leering, his slitted, greenish
+eyes almost phosphorescent in the semi-obscurity.
+
+Suddenly he caught sight of Ilse Dumont standing close behind Sengoun
+and Neeland on the landing above.
+
+"By God!" he shouted to Curfoot. "Here she is, Doc! Tell your men!
+Tell them she's up here on the next floor!"
+
+Sengoun immediately fired at Brandes, who did not return the shot but
+went plunging downstairs into the smoky obscurity below.
+
+"Come on!" roared Sengoun to Neeland, starting forward with levelled
+weapon. "They've all gone crazy and it's time we were getting out of
+this!"
+
+"Quick!" whispered Neeland to Ilse Dumont. "Follow me downstairs! It's
+the only chance for you now!"
+
+But the passageway was blocked by a struggling, cursing, panting
+crowd, and they were obliged to retreat into the club rooms.
+
+In the _salle de jeu_, Ali Baba, held fast by three men dressed as
+waiters, suddenly tripped up two of them, turned, and leaped for the
+doorway. The two men who had been tripped scrambled to their feet and
+tore after him. When they reached the hallway the Eurasian was gone;
+but all of a sudden there came the crash of a splintered door from the
+landing above; and the dim corridor rang with the frightful screaming
+of a woman.
+
+"It's--that--that--Russian girl!" stammered Ilse Dumont; "--The girl I
+locked in! Oh, my God!--my God! Karl Breslau is killing her!"
+
+Neeland sprang into the hall and leaped up the stairs; but the three
+men disguised as waiters had arrived before him.
+
+And there, across the threshold of the bedroom, backed up flat against
+the shattered door, Ali Baba was already fighting for his life; and
+the frightened Russian girl crept out from the bedroom behind him and
+ran to Neeland for protection.
+
+Twice Neeland aimed at Ali Baba, but could not bring himself to fire
+at the bleeding, rabid object which snarled and slavered and bit and
+kicked, regardless of the blows raining on him. At last one of his
+assailants broke the half demented creature's arm with a chair; and
+the bloody, battered thing squeaked like a crippled rat and darted
+away amid the storm of blows descending, limping and floundering up
+the attic stairs, his broken arm flapping with every gasping bound.
+
+After him staggered his sweating and exhausted assailants, reeling
+past Neeland and Ilse Dumont and the terrified Russian girl who
+crouched behind them. But, halfway up the stairs all three halted and
+stood clinging to the banisters as though listening to something on
+the floor above them.
+
+Neeland heard it, too: from the roof came a ripping, splintering
+sound, as though people on the slates were prying up the bolted
+scuttle. The three men on the stairs hesitated a moment longer; then
+turned to flee, too late; a hail of pistol shots swept the attic
+stairs; all three men came pitching and tumbling down to the landing.
+
+Two of them lay still; one rose immediately and limped on again down
+the hallway, calling over the banisters to those below:
+
+"The Germans on the leads 'ave busted into the garret! Breslau is up
+'ere! Send along those American gunmen, or somebody what can shoot!"
+
+He was a grey-haired Englishman, smooth shaven and grim; and, as he
+stood there at the head of the further stairs, breathing heavily,
+awaiting aid from below, he said to Neeland coolly enough:
+
+"You'd better go below, sir. We 'ad our orders to take this Breslau
+rat alive, but we can't do it now, and there's like to be a 'orrid
+mess 'ere directly."
+
+"Can we get through below?"
+
+"_You_ can," said the man significantly, "but they'll be detaining one
+o' them ladies at the door."
+
+"Do you mean me?" said Ilse Dumont.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I do----"
+
+She sprang toward the attic stairway, but the British agent whipped
+out a pistol and covered her.
+
+"No," he said grimly. "You're wanted below. Go down!"
+
+She came slowly back to where Neeland was standing.
+
+"You'll have to take your chance below," he said under his breath.
+"I'll stand by you to the end."
+
+She smiled and continued on toward the stairs where the English agent
+stood. Neeland and the Russian girl followed her.
+
+The agent said:
+
+"There's 'ell to pay below, sir."
+
+The depths of the house rang with the infernal din of blows falling on
+iron shutters. A deeper, more sinister roar rose from the mob outside.
+There was a struggle going on inside the building, too; Neeland could
+hear the trampling and surging of men on every floor--voices calling
+from room to room, shouts of anger, the terrible outcry of a man in
+agony.
+
+"Wot a rat's nest, then, there was in this here blessed 'ouse, sir!"
+said the British agent, coolly. "If we get Breslau and the others on
+the roof we've bagged 'em all."
+
+The Russian girl was trembling so violently that Neeland took her by
+the arm. But Ilse Dumont, giving her a glance of contempt, moved
+calmly past the British agent to the head of the stairway.
+
+"Come," she said to Neeland.
+
+The agent, leaning over the banisters, shouted to a man on the next
+floor:
+
+"Look sharp below there! I'm sendin' Miss Dumont down with Mr.
+Neeland, the American! Take her in charge, Bill!"
+
+"Send her along!" bawled the man, framing his face with both hands.
+"Keep Breslau on the roof a bit and we'll 'ave the beggar in a few
+moments!"
+
+Somebody else shouted up from the tumult below:
+
+"It's war, 'Arry! 'Ave you 'eard? It's war this morning! Them 'Uns 'as
+declared war! And the perlice is a-killin' of the Apaches all over
+Paris!"
+
+Ilse Dumont looked curiously at the agent, calmly at Neeland, then,
+dropping one hand on the banisters, she went lightly down the stairs
+toward the uproar below, followed by Neeland and the Russian girl
+clinging to his arm with both desperate little hands.
+
+The British agent hung far over the banisters until he saw his
+colleague join them on the floor below; then, reassured, and on guard
+again, he leaned back against the corridor wall, his pistol resting on
+his thigh, and fixed his cold grey eyes on the attic stairs once
+more.
+
+The secret agent who now joined Neeland and Ilse Dumont on the fourth
+floor had evidently been constructing a barricade across the hallway
+as a precaution in case of a rush from the Germans on the roof.
+
+Chairs and mattresses, piled shoulder high, obstructed the passageway,
+blocking the stairs; and the secret agent--a very young man with red
+hair and in the garb of a waiter--clambered over it, revolver in one
+hand, a pair of handcuffs in the other. He lost his balance on top of
+the shaky heap; strove desperately to recover it, scrambled like a cat
+in a tub, stumbled, rolled over on a mattress.
+
+And there Neeland pinned him, closing his mouth with one hand and his
+throat with the other, while Ilse Dumont tore weapon and handcuffs
+from his grasp, snapped the latter over his wrists, snatched the case
+from a bedroom pillow lying among the mattresses, and, with Neeland's
+aid, swathed the struggling man's head in it.
+
+"Into that clothes-press!" whispered Ilse, pointing along the hallway
+where a door swung open.
+
+"Help me lift him!" motioned Neeland.
+
+Together they got him clear of the shaky barricade and, lugging him
+between them, deposited him on the floor of the clothes-press and
+locked the door.
+
+So silent had they been that, listening, they heard no movement from
+the watcher on the floor above, who stood guard at the attic stairs.
+And it was evident he had heard nothing to make him suspicious.
+
+The Russian girl, dreadfully pale, leaned against the wall as though
+her limbs scarcely supported her. Neeland passed his arm under hers,
+nodded to Ilse Dumont, and started cautiously down the carpeted
+stairs, his automatic pistol in one hand, and the revolver taken from
+the imprisoned secret agent clutched tightly in the other.
+
+Down the stairs they crept, straight toward the frightful tumult still
+raging below--down past the wrecked club rooms; past a dead man
+sprawling on the landing across the blood-soaked carpet--down into the
+depths of the dusky building toward the lighted cafe floor whence came
+the uproar of excited men, while, from the street outside, rose the
+frantic yelling of the mob mingled with the crash of glass and the
+clanging dissonance of iron grilles and shutters which were being
+battered into fragments.
+
+"It's my chance, now!" whispered Ilse Dumont, slipping past him like a
+shadow.
+
+For a moment he saw her silhouetted against the yellow electric glare
+on the stairs below, then, half carrying the almost helpless Russian
+girl, he stumbled down the last flight of stairs and pushed his way
+through a hurrying group of men who seemed to be searching for
+something, for they were tearing open cupboards and buffets, dragging
+out table drawers and tumbling linen, crockery, and glassware all over
+the black and white marble floor.
+
+The whole place was ankle deep in shattered glass and broken bottles,
+and the place reeked with smoke and the odour of wine and spirits.
+
+Neeland forced his way forward into the cafe, looked around for
+Sengoun, and saw him almost immediately.
+
+The young Russian, flushed, infuriated, his collar gone and his coat
+in tatters, was struggling with some men who held both his arms but
+did not offer to strike him.
+
+Behind him, crowded back into a corner near the cashier's
+steel-grilled desk, stood Ilse Dumont, calm, disdainful, confronted by
+Brandes, whose swollen, greenish eyes, injected with blood, glared
+redly at her. Stull had hold of him and was trying to drag him away:
+
+"For God's sake, Eddie, shut your mouth," he pleaded in English. "You
+can't do _that_ to her, whatever she done to you!"
+
+But Brandes, disengaging himself with a jerk, pushed his way past
+Sengoun to where Ilse stood.
+
+"I've got the goods on _you_!" he said in a ferocious voice that
+neither Stull nor Curfoot recognised. "You know what you did to me,
+don't you! You took my wife from me! Yes, my _wife_! She _was_ my
+wife! She _is_ my wife!--For all you did, you lying, treacherous
+slut!--For all you've done to break me, double-cross me, ruin me,
+drive me out of every place I went! And now I've got you! I've sold
+you out! Get that? And you know what they'll do to you, don't you?
+Well, you'll see when----"
+
+Curfoot and Stull threw themselves against him, but Brandes, his round
+face pasty with fury, struggled back again to confront Ilse Dumont.
+
+"Ruined me!" he repeated. "Took away from me the only thing God ever
+gave me for my own! Took my wife!"
+
+"You dog!" said Ilse Dumont very slowly. "You dirty dog!"
+
+A frightful spasm crossed Brandes' features, and Stull snatched at the
+pistol he had whipped out. There was a struggle; Brandes wrenched the
+weapon free; but Neeland tore his way past Curfoot and struck Brandes
+in the face with the butt of his heavy revolver.
+
+Instantly the group parted right and left; Sengoun suddenly twisted
+out of the clutches of the men who held him, sprang upon Curfoot, and
+jerked the pistol from his fist. At the same moment the entire front
+of the cafe gave way and the mob crashed inward with a roar amid the
+deafening din of shattered metal and the clash of splintering glass.
+
+Through the dust and falling shower of debris, Brandes fired at Ilse
+Dumont, reeled about in the whirl of the inrushing throng engulfing
+him, still firing blindly at the woman who had been his wife.
+
+Neeland put a bullet into his pistol arm, and it fell. But Brandes
+stretched it out again with a supreme effort, pointing at Ilse Dumont
+with jewelled and bloody fingers:
+
+"That woman is a German spy! A spy!" he screamed. "You damn French
+mutts, do you understand what I say! Oh, my God! Will someone who
+speaks French tell them! Will somebody tell them she's a spy! _La
+femme! Cette femme!_" he shrieked. "_Elle est espion! Esp----!_" He
+fired again, with his left hand. Then Sengoun shot him through the
+head; and at the same moment somebody stabbed Curfoot in the neck; and
+the lank American gambler turned and cried out to Stull in a voice
+half strangled with pain and fury:
+
+"Look out, Ben. There are apaches in this mob! That one in the striped
+jersey knifed me----"
+
+"_Tiens, v'la pour toi, sale mec de malheur!_" muttered a voice at his
+elbow, and a blow from a slung-shot crushed the base of his skull.
+
+As Curfoot crumpled up, Stull caught him; but the tall gambler's dead
+weight bore Stull to his knees among the fierce apaches.
+
+And there, fighting in silence to the end, his chalky face of a sick
+clown meeting undaunted the overwhelming odds against him, Stull was
+set upon by the apaches and stabbed and stabbed until his clothing was
+a heap of ribbons and the watch and packet of French bank-notes which
+the assassins tore from his body were dripping with his blood.
+
+Sengoun and Neeland, their evening clothes in tatters, hatless,
+dishevelled, began shooting their way out of the hell of murder and
+destruction raging around them.
+
+Behind them crept Ilse Dumont and the Russian girl: dust and smoke
+obscured the place where the mob raged from floor to floor in a frenzy
+of destruction, tearing out fixtures, telephones, window-sashes,
+smashing tables, bar fixtures, mirrors, ripping the curtains from the
+windows and the very carpets from the floor in their overwhelming rage
+against this German cafe.
+
+That apaches had entered with them the mob cared nothing; the red lust
+of destruction blinded them to everything except their terrible
+necessity for the annihilation of this place.
+
+If they saw murder done, and robbery--if they heard shots in the
+tumult and saw pistol flashes through the dust and grey light of
+daybreak, they never turned from their raging work.
+
+Out of the frightful turmoil stormed Neeland and Sengoun, their
+pistols spitting flame, the two women clinging to their ragged
+sleeves. Twice the apaches barred their way with bared knives,
+crouching for a rush; but Sengoun fired into them and Neeland's
+bullets dropped the ruffian in the striped jersey where he stood over
+Stull's twitching body; and the sinister creatures leaped back from
+the levelled weapons, turned, and ran.
+
+Through the gaping doorway sprang Sengoun, his empty pistol menacing
+the crowd that choked the shadowy street; Neeland flung away his
+pistol and turned his revolver on those in the cafe behind him, as
+Ilse Dumont and the Russian girl crept through and out into the
+street.
+
+The crowd was cheering and shouting:
+
+"Down with the Germans! To the Brasserie Schwarz!"
+
+An immense wave of people surged suddenly across the rue Vilna, headed
+toward the German cafes on the Boulevard; and then, for the first
+time, Neeland caught sight of policemen standing in little groups,
+coolly watching the destruction of the Cafe des Bulgars.
+
+Either they were too few to cope with the mob, or they were
+indifferent as to what was being done to a German cafe, but one thing
+was plain; the police had not the faintest idea that murder had been
+rampant in the place. For, when suddenly a dead body was thrown from
+the door out on the sidewalk, their police whistles shrilled through
+the street, and they started for the mob, resolutely, pushing,
+striking with white-gloved fists, shouting for right of way.
+
+Other police came running, showing that they had been perfectly aware
+that German cafes were being attacked and wrecked. A mounted inspector
+forced his horse along the swarming sidewalk, crying:
+
+"_Allons! Circulez! C'est defendu de s'attrouper dans la rue! Mais
+fichez-moi le camp, nom de Dieu! Les Allemands ne sont pas encore dans
+la place!_"
+
+Along the street and on the Boulevard mobs were forming and already
+storming three other German cafes; a squadron of Republican Guard
+cavalry arrived at a trot, their helmets glittering in the increasing
+daylight, driving before them a mob which had begun to attack a cafe
+on the corner.
+
+A captain, superbly mounted, rode ahead of the advancing line of
+horses, warning the throng back into the rue Vilna, up which the mob
+now recoiled, sullenly protesting.
+
+Neeland and Sengoun and the two women were forced back with the crowd
+as a double rank of steel-helmeted horsemen advanced, sweeping
+everybody into the rue Vilna.
+
+Up the street, through the vague morning light, they retired between
+ranks of closed and silent houses, past narrow, evil-looking streets
+and stony alleys still dark with the shadows of the night.
+
+Into one of these Neeland started with Ilse Dumont, but Sengoun drew
+him back with a sharp exclamation of warning. At the same time the
+crowd all around them became aware of what was going on in the maze of
+dusky lanes and alleys past which they were being driven by the
+cavalry; and the people broke and scattered like rabbits, darting
+through the cavalry, dodging, scuttling under the very legs of the
+horses.
+
+The troop, thrown into disorder, tried to check the panic-stricken
+flight; a brigadier, spurring forward to learn the cause of the
+hysterical stampede, drew bridle sharply, then whipped his pistol out
+of the saddle-holster, and galloped into an _impasse_.
+
+The troop captain, pushing his horse, caught sight of Sengoun and
+Neeland in the remains of their evening dress; and he glanced
+curiously at them, and at the two young women clad in the rags of
+evening gowns.
+
+"_Nom de Dieu!_" he cried. "What are such people as you doing here? Go
+back! This is no quarter for honest folk!"
+
+"What are those police doing in the alleys?" demanded Sengoun; but the
+captain cantered his horse up the street, pistol lifted; and they saw
+him fire from his saddle at a man who darted out of an alley and who
+started to run across the street.
+
+The captain missed every shot, but a trooper, whose horse had come up
+on the sidewalk beside Neeland, fired twice more after the running
+man, and dropped him at the second shot.
+
+"A good business, too," he said calmly, winking at Neeland. "You
+_bourgeois_ ought to be glad that we're ordered to clean up Paris for
+you. And now is the time to do it," he added, reloading his weapon.
+
+Sengoun said in a low voice to Neeland:
+
+"They're ridding the city of apaches. It's plain enough that they have
+orders to kill them where they find them! Look!" he added, pointing to
+the dead wall across the street; "It's here at last, and Paris is
+cleaning house and getting ready for it! This is war, Neeland--war at
+last!"
+
+Neeland looked across the street where, under a gas lamp on a rusty
+iron bracket, was pasted the order for general mobilisation. And on
+the sidewalk at the base of the wall lay a man, face downward, his
+dusty shoes crossed under the wide flaring trousers, the greasy
+_casquet_ still crowding out his lop ears; his hand clenched beside a
+stiletto which lay on the stone flagging beside him.
+
+"An apache," said Sengoun coolly. "That's right, too. It's the way we
+do in Russia when we clean house for war----"
+
+His face reddened and lighted joyously.
+
+"Thank God for my thousand lances!" he said, lifting his eyes to the
+yellowing sky between the houses in the narrow street. "Thank God!
+Thank God!"
+
+Now, across the intersections of streets and alleys beyond where they
+stood, policemen and Garde cavalry were shooting into doorways,
+basements, and up the sombre, dusky lanes, the dry crack of their
+service revolvers re-echoing noisily through the street.
+
+Toward the Boulevard below, a line of police and of cavalrymen
+blocked the rue Vilna; and, beyond them, the last of the mob was being
+driven from the Cafe des Bulgars, where the first ambulances were
+arriving and the police, guarding the ruins, were already looking out
+of windows on the upper floors.
+
+A cavalryman came clattering down the rue Vilna, gesticulating and
+calling out to Sengoun and Neeland to take their ladies and depart.
+
+"Get us a taxicab--there's a good fellow!" cried Sengoun in high
+spirits; and the cavalryman, looking at their dishevelled attire,
+laughed and nodded as he rode ahead of them down the rue Vilna.
+
+There were several taxicabs on the Boulevard, their drivers staring up
+at the wrecked cafe. As Neeland spoke to the driver of one of the
+cabs, Ilse Dumont stepped back beside the silent girl whom she had
+locked in the bedroom.
+
+"I gave _you_ a chance," she said under her breath. "What may I expect
+from you? Answer me quickly!--What am I to expect?"
+
+The girl seemed dazed:
+
+"N-nothing," she stammered. "The--the horror of that place--the
+killing--has sickened me. I--I want to go home----"
+
+"You do not intend to denounce me?"
+
+"No--Oh, God! No!"
+
+"Is that the truth? If you are lying to me it means my death."
+
+The girl gazed at her in horror; tears sprang to her eyes:
+
+"I couldn't--I couldn't!" she stammered in a choking voice. "I've
+never before seen death--never seen how it came--how men die!
+This--this killing is horrible, revolting!" She had laid one trembling
+little hand on Ilse Dumont's bare shoulder. "I don't want to have you
+killed; the idea of death makes me ill! I'm going home--that is all I
+ask for--to go home----"
+
+She dropped her pretty head and began to sob hysterically, standing
+there under the growing daylight of the Boulevard, in her tattered
+evening gown.
+
+Suddenly Ilse Dumont threw both arms around her and kissed the
+feverish, tear-wet face:
+
+"You weren't meant for this!" she whispered. "You do it for money. Go
+home. Do anything else for wages--anything except this!--_Anything_, I
+tell you----"
+
+Neeland's hand touched her arm:
+
+"I have a cab. Are you going home with her?"
+
+"I dare not," she said.
+
+"Then will you take this Russian girl to her home, Sengoun?" he asked.
+And added in a low voice: "She is one of your own people, you know."
+
+"All right," said Sengoun blissfully. "I'd take the devil home if you
+asked me! Besides, I can talk to her about my regiment on the way.
+That will be wonderful, Neeland! That will be quite wonderful! I can
+talk to her in Russian about my regiment all the way home!"
+
+He laughed and looked at his friend, at Ilse Dumont, at the drooping
+figure he was to take under his escort. He glanced down at his own
+ragged attire where he stood hatless, collarless, one sleeve of his
+evening coat ripped open to the shoulder.
+
+"Isn't it wonderful!" he cried, bursting out into uncontrollable
+laughter. "Neeland, my dear comrade, this has been the most
+delightfully wonderful night of my entire life! But the great miracle
+is still to come! Hurrah for a thousand lances! Hurrah! Town taken by
+Prince Erlik! Hurrah!"
+
+And he seized the young girl whom he was to escort to her
+home--wherever that hazy locality might be--and carried her in his
+arms to the taxicab, amid encouraging shouts of laughter from the line
+of cavalrymen who had been watching the proceedings from the corner of
+the rue Vilna.
+
+That shout of Gallic appreciation inflamed Sengoun: he reached for his
+hat, to lift and wave it, but found no hat on his head. So he waved
+his tattered sleeve instead:
+
+"Hurrah for France!" he shouted. "Hurrah for Russia! I'm Sengoun, of
+the Terek!--And I am to have a thousand lances with which to explain
+to the Germans my opinion of them and of their Emperor!"
+
+The troopers cheered him from their stirrups, in spite of their
+officers, who pretended to check their men.
+
+"_Vive la France! Vive la Russie!_" they roared. "Forward the Terek
+Cossacks!"
+
+Sengoun turned to Ilse Dumont:
+
+"Madame," he said, "in gratitude and admiration!"--and he gracefully
+saluted her hand. Then, to his comrade: "Neeland!"--seizing both the
+American's hands. "Such a night and such a comrade I shall never
+forget! I adore our night together; I love you as a brother. I shall
+see you before I go?"
+
+"Surely, Sengoun, my dear comrade!"
+
+"_Alors--au revoir!_" He sprang into the taxicab. "To the Russian
+Embassy!" he called out; and turned to the half fainting girl on the
+seat beside him.
+
+"Where do you live, my dear?" he asked very gently, taking her icy
+hand in his.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+SUNRISE
+
+
+When the taxicab carrying Captain Sengoun and the unknown Russian girl
+had finally disappeared far away down the Boulevard in the thin grey
+haze of early morning, Neeland looked around him; and it was a scene
+unfamiliar, unreal, that met his anxious eyes.
+
+The sun had not yet gilded the chimney tops; east and west, as far as
+he could see, the Boulevard stretched away under its double line of
+trees between ranks of closed and silent houses, lying still and
+mysterious in the misty, bluish-grey light.
+
+Except for police and municipal guards, and two ambulances moving
+slowly away from the ruined cafe, across the street, the vast
+Boulevard was deserted; no taxicabs remained; no omnibuses moved; no
+early workmen passed, no slow-moving farm wagons and milk wains from
+the suburbs; no _chiffoniers_ with scrap-filled sacks on their curved
+backs, and steel-hooked staves, furtively sorting and picking among
+the night's debris on sidewalk and in gutter.
+
+Here and there in front of half a dozen wrecked cafes little knots of
+policemen stood on the glass-littered sidewalk, in low-voiced
+consultation; far down the Boulevard, helmets gleamed dully through
+the haze where municipal cavalry were quietly riding off the mobs and
+gradually pushing them back toward the Montmartre and Villette
+quarters, whence they had arrived.
+
+Mounted Municipals still sat their beautiful horses in double line
+across the corner of the rue Vilna and parallel streets, closing that
+entire quarter where, to judge from a few fitful and far-away pistol
+shots, the methodical apache hunt was still in progress.
+
+And it was a strange and sinister phase of Paris that Neeland now
+gazed upon through the misty stillness of early morning. For there was
+something terrible in the sudden quiet, where the swift and shadowy
+fury of earliest dawn had passed: and the wrecked buildings sagged
+like corpses, stark and disembowelled, spilling out their dead
+intestines indecently under the whitening sky.
+
+Save for the echoes of distant shots, no louder than the breaking of a
+splinter--save for the deadened stamp and stir of horses, a low-voiced
+order, the fainter clash of spurs and scabbards--an intense stillness
+brooded now over the city, ominously prophetic of what fateful
+awakening the coming sunrise threatened for the sleeping capital.
+
+Neeland turned and looked at Ilse Dumont. She stood motionless on the
+sidewalk, in the clear, colourless light, staring fixedly across the
+street at the debris of the gaping, shattered Cafe des Bulgars. Her
+evening gown hung in filmy tinted shreds; her thick, dark hair in
+lustrous disorder shadowed her white shoulders; a streak of dry blood
+striped one delicate bare arm.
+
+To see her standing there on the sidewalk in the full, unshadowed
+morning light, silent, dishevelled, scarcely clothed, seemed to him
+part of the ghastly unreality of this sombre and menacing vision, from
+which he ought to rouse himself.
+
+She turned her head slowly; her haggard eyes met his without
+expression; and he found his tongue with the effort of a man who
+strives for utterance through a threatening dream:
+
+"We can't stay here," he said. The sound of his own voice steadied and
+cleared his senses. He glanced down at his own attire, blood-stained,
+and ragged; felt for the loose end of his collar, rebuttoned it, and
+knotted the draggled white tie with the unconscious indifference of
+habit.
+
+"What a nightmare!" he muttered to himself. "The world has been turned
+upside down over night." He looked up at her: "We can't stay here," he
+repeated. "Where do you live?"
+
+She did not appear to hear him. She had already started to move toward
+the rue Vilna, where the troopers barring that street still sat their
+restive horses. They were watching her and her dishevelled companion
+with the sophisticated amusement of men who, by clean daylight,
+encounter fagged-out revellers of a riotous night.
+
+Neeland spoke to her again, then followed her and took her arm.
+
+"Where are you going?" he repeated, uneasily.
+
+"I shall give myself up," she replied in a dull voice.
+
+"To whom?"
+
+"To the Municipals over there."
+
+"Give yourself up!" he repeated. "Why?"
+
+She passed a slender hand over her eyes as though unutterably weary:
+
+"Neeland," she said, "I am lost already.... And I am very tired."
+
+"What do you mean?" he demanded, drawing her back under a
+_porte-cochere_. "You live somewhere, don't you? If it's safe for you
+to go back to your lodgings, I'll take you there. Is it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, I'll take you somewhere else. I'll find somewhere to take
+you----"
+
+She shook her head:
+
+"It is useless, Neeland. There is no chance of my leaving the city
+now--no chance left--no hope. It is simpler for me to end the matter
+this way----"
+
+"Can't you go to the Turkish Embassy!"
+
+She looked up at him in a surprised, hopeless way:
+
+"Do you suppose that any Embassy ever receives a spy in trouble? Do
+you really imagine that any government ever admits employing secret
+agents, or stirs a finger to aid them when they are in need?"
+
+"I told you I'd stand by you," he reminded her bluntly.
+
+"You have been--kind--Neeland."
+
+"And you have been very loyal to me, Scheherazade. I shall not abandon
+you."
+
+"How can you help me? I can't get out of this city. Wherever I go,
+now, it will be only a matter of a few hours before I am arrested."
+
+"The American Embassy. There is a _man_ there," he reminded her.
+
+She shrugged her naked shoulders:
+
+"I cannot get within sight of the Trocadero before the secret police
+arrest me. Where shall I go? I have no passport, no papers, not even
+false ones. If I go to the lodgings where I expected to find shelter
+it means my arrest, court martial, and execution in a _caserne_ within
+twenty-four hours. And it would involve others who trust me--condemn
+them instantly to a firing squad--if I am found by the police in
+their company!... No, Neeland. There's no hope for me. Too many know
+me in Paris. I took a risk in coming here when war was almost certain.
+I took my chances, and lost. It's too late to whimper now."
+
+As he stared at her something suddenly brightened above them; and he
+looked up and saw the first sunbeam painting a chimney top with palest
+gold.
+
+"Come," he said, "we've got to get out of this! We've got to go
+somewhere--find a taxicab and get under shelter----"
+
+She yielded to the pressure of his arm and moved forward beside him.
+He halted for a moment on the curb, looking up and down the empty
+streets for a cab of any sort, then, with the instinct of a man for
+whom the Latin Quarter had once been a refuge and a home, he started
+across the Boulevard, his arm clasping hers.
+
+All the housetops were glittering with the sun as they passed the
+ranks of the Municipal cavalry.
+
+A young officer looked down mischievously as they traversed the
+Boulevard--the only moving objects in that vast and still
+perspective.
+
+"_Mon Dieu!_" he murmured. "A night like that is something to remember
+in the winter of old age!"
+
+Neeland heard him. The gay, bantering, irresponsible Gallic wit awoke
+him to himself; the rising sun, tipping the city's spires with fire,
+seemed to relight a little, long-forgotten flame within him. His
+sombre features cleared; he said confidently to the girl beside him:
+
+"Don't worry; we'll get you out of it somehow or other. It's been a
+rather frightful dream, Scheherazade, nothing worse----"
+
+Her arm suddenly tightened against his and he turned to look at the
+shattered Cafe des Bulgars which they were passing, where two
+policemen stood looking at a cat which was picking its way over the
+mass of debris, mewing dismally.
+
+One of the policemen, noticing them, smiled sympathetically at their
+battered appearance.
+
+"Would you like to have a cat for your lively _menage_?" he said,
+pointing to the melancholy animal which Neeland recognised as the
+dignified property of the Cercle Extranationale.
+
+The other policeman, more suspicious, eyed Ilse Dumont closely as she
+knelt impulsively and picked up the homeless cat.
+
+"Where are you going in such a state?" he asked, moving over the heaps
+of splintered glass toward her.
+
+"Back to the Latin Quarter," said Neeland, so cheerfully that
+suspicion vanished and a faint grin replaced the official frown.
+
+"_Allons, mes enfants_," he muttered. "_Faut pas s'attrouper dans la
+rue_. Also you both are a scandal. _Allons! Filez! Houp!_ The sun is
+up already!"
+
+They went out across the rue Royale toward the Place de la Concorde,
+which spread away before them in deserted immensity and beauty.
+
+There were no taxicabs in sight. Ilse, carrying the cat in her arms,
+moved beside Neeland through the deathly stillness of the city, as
+though she were walking in a dream. Everywhere in the pale blue sky
+above them steeple and dome glittered with the sun; there were no
+sounds from _quai_ or river; no breeze stirred the trees; nothing
+moved on esplanade or bridge; the pale blue August sky grew bluer; the
+gilded tip of the obelisk glittered like a living flame.
+
+Neeland turned and looked up the Champs Elysees.
+
+Far away on the surface of the immense avenue a tiny dark speck was
+speeding--increasing in size, coming nearer.
+
+"A taxi," he said with a quick breath of relief. "We'll be all right
+now."
+
+Nearer and nearer came the speeding vehicle, rushing toward them
+between the motionless green ranks of trees. Neeland walked forward
+across the square to signal it, waited, watching its approach with a
+slight uneasiness.
+
+Now it sped between the rearing stone horses, and now, swerving, swung
+to the left toward the rue Royale. And to his disgust and
+disappointment he saw it was a private automobile.
+
+"The devil!" he muttered, turning on his heel.
+
+At the same moment, as though the chauffeur had suddenly caught an
+order from within the limousine, the car swung directly toward him
+once more.
+
+As he rejoined Ilse, who stood clasping the homeless cat to her
+breast, listlessly regarding the approaching automobile, the car swept
+in a swift circle around the fountain where they stood, stopped short
+beside them; and a woman flung open the door and sprang out to the
+pavement.
+
+And Ilse Dumont, standing there in the rags of her frail gown,
+cuddling to her breast the purring cat, looked up to meet her doom in
+the steady gaze of the Princess Naia Mistchenka.
+
+Every atom of colour left her face, and her ashy lips parted.
+Otherwise, she made no sign of fear, no movement.
+
+There was a second's absolute silence; then the dark eyes of the
+Princess turned on Neeland.
+
+"Good heavens, James!" she said. "What has happened to you?"
+
+"Nothing," he said gaily, "thanks to Miss Dumont----"
+
+"To _whom_?" interrupted the Princess sharply.
+
+"To Miss Dumont. We got into a silly place where it began to look as
+though we'd get our heads knocked off, Sengoun and I. I'm really quite
+serious, Princess. If it hadn't been for Miss Dumont--" he shrugged;
+"--and that is twice she has saved my idiotic head for me," he added
+cheerfully.
+
+The Princess Naia's dark eyes reverted to Ilse Dumont, and the pallid
+girl met them steadily enough. There was no supplication in her own
+eyes, no shrinking, only the hopeless tranquillity that looks Destiny
+in the face--the gaze riveted unflinchingly upon the descending blow.
+
+"What are _you_ doing in Paris at such a time as this?" said the
+Princess.
+
+The girl's white lips parted stiffly:
+
+"Do you need to ask?"
+
+For a full minute the Princess bent a menacing gaze on her in silence;
+then:
+
+"What do you expect from _me_?" she demanded in a low voice. And,
+stepping nearer: "What have you to expect from anyone in France on
+such a day as this?"
+
+Ilse Dumont did not answer. After a moment she dropped her head and
+fumbled with the rags of her bodice, as though trying to cover the
+delicately rounded shoulders. A shaft of sunlight, reflected from the
+obelisk to the fountain, played in golden ripples across her hair.
+
+Neeland looked at the Princess Naia:
+
+"What you do is none of my business," he said pleasantly, "but--" he
+smiled at her and stepped back beside Ilse Dumont, and passed his arm
+through hers: "I'm a grateful beast," he added lightly, "and if I've
+nine lives to lose, perhaps Miss Dumont will save seven more of them
+before I'm entirely done for."
+
+The girl gently disengaged his arm.
+
+"You'll only get yourself into serious trouble," she murmured, "and
+you can't help me, dear Neeland."
+
+The Princess Naia, flushed and exasperated, bit her lip.
+
+"James," she said, "you are behaving absurdly. That woman has nothing
+to fear from me now, and she ought to know it!" And, as Ilse lifted
+her head and stared at her: "Yes, you ought to know it!" she repeated.
+"Your work is ended. It ended today at sunrise. And so did mine. War
+is here. There is nothing further for you to do; nothing for me. The
+end of everything is beginning. What would your death or mine signify
+now, when the dawn of such a day as this is the death warrant for
+millions? What do we count for now, Mademoiselle Minna Minti?"
+
+"Do you not mean to give me up, madame?"
+
+"Give you up? No. I mean to get you out of Paris if I can. Give me
+your cat, mademoiselle. Please help her, James----"
+
+"You--offer me your limousine?" stammered Ilse.
+
+"Give that cat to me. Of course I do! Do you suppose I mean to leave
+you in rags with your cat on the pavement here?" And, to Neeland:
+"Where is Alak?"
+
+"Gone home as fit as a fiddle. Am I to receive the hospitality of your
+limousine also, dear lady? Look at the state I'm in to travel with two
+ladies!"
+
+The Princess Naia's dark eyes glimmered; she tucked the cat
+comfortably against her shoulder and motioned Ilse into the car.
+
+"I'm afraid I'll have to take you, James. What on earth has happened
+to you?" she added, as he put her into the car, nodded to the
+chauffeur, and, springing in beside her, slammed the door.
+
+"I'll tell you in two words," he explained gaily. "Prince Erlik and I
+started for a stroll and landed, ultimately, in the Cafe des Bulgars.
+And presently a number of gentlemen began to shoot up the place, and
+Miss Dumont stood by us like a brick."
+
+The Princess Mistchenka lifted the cat from her lap and placed it in
+the arms of Ilse Dumont.
+
+"That ought to win our gratitude, I'm sure," she said politely to the
+girl. "We Russians never forget such pleasant obligations. There is a
+Cossack jingle:
+
+ "To those who befriend our friends
+ Our duty never ends."
+
+Ilse Dumont bent low over the purring cat in her lap; the Princess
+watched her askance from moment to moment, and Neeland furtively noted
+the contrast between these women--one in rags and haggard disorder;
+the other so trim, pretty, and fresh in her morning walking suit.
+
+"James," she said abruptly, "we've had a most horrid night, Ruhannah
+and I. The child waited up for you, it seems--I thought she'd gone to
+bed--and she came to my room about two in the morning--the little
+goose--as though men didn't stay out all night!"
+
+"I'm terribly sorry," he said contritely.
+
+"You ought to be.... And Ruhannah was so disturbed that I put on
+something and got out of bed. And after a while"--the Princess glanced
+sardonically at Ilse Dumont--"I telephoned to various sources of
+information and was informed concerning the rather lively episodes of
+your nocturnal career with Sengoun. And when I learned that you and he
+had been seen to enter the Cafe des Bulgars, I became sufficiently
+alarmed to notify several people who might be interested in the
+matter."
+
+"One of those people," said Neeland, smiling, "was escorted to her
+home by Captain Sengoun, I think."
+
+The Princess glanced out of the window where the early morning sun
+glimmered on the trees as the car flew swiftly through the Champs
+Elysees.
+
+"I heard that there were some men killed there last night," she said
+without turning.
+
+"Several, I believe," admitted Neeland.
+
+"Were _you_ there, then?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, uncomfortably.
+
+"Did you know anybody who was killed, James?"
+
+"Yes, by sight."
+
+She turned to him:
+
+"Who?"
+
+"There was a man named Kestner; another named Weishelm. Three American
+gamblers were killed also."
+
+"And Karl Breslau?" inquired the Princess coolly.
+
+There was a moment's silence.
+
+"No. I think he got away across the roofs of the houses," replied
+Neeland.
+
+Ilse Dumont, bent over the cat in her lap, stared absently into its
+green eyes where it lay playfully patting the rags that hung from her
+torn bodice.
+
+Perhaps she was thinking of the dead man where he lay in the crowded
+cafe--the dead man who had confronted her with bloodshot eyes and
+lifted pistol--whose voice, thick with rage, had denounced her--whose
+stammering, untaught tongue stumbled over the foreign words with which
+he meant to send her to her death--this dead man who once had been
+_her_ man--long ago--very, very long ago when there was no bitterness
+in life, no pain, no treachery--when life was young in the Western
+World, and Fate gaily beckoned her, wearing a smiling mask and crowned
+with flowers.
+
+"I hope," remarked the Princess Mistchenka, "that it is sufficiently
+early in the morning for you to escape observation, James."
+
+"I'm a scandal; I know it," he admitted, as the car swung into the rue
+Soleil d'Or.
+
+The Princess turned to the drooping girl beside her and laid a gloved
+hand lightly on her shoulder.
+
+"My dear," she said gently, "there is only one chance for you, and if
+we let it pass it will not come again--under military law."
+
+Ilse lifted her head, held it high, even tilted back a little.
+
+The Princess said:
+
+"Twenty-four hours will be given for all Germans to leave France.
+But--you took your nationality from the man you married. You are
+American."
+
+The girl flushed painfully:
+
+"I do not care to take shelter under his name," she said.
+
+"It is the only way. And you must get to the coast in my car. There is
+no time to lose. Every vehicle, private and public, will be seized for
+military uses this morning. Every train will be crowded; every foot of
+room occupied on the Channel boats. There is only one thing for you to
+do--travel with me to Havre as my American maid."
+
+"Madame--would you do that--for me?"
+
+"Why, I've got to," said the Princess Mistchenka with a shrug. "I am
+not a barbarian to leave you to a firing squad, I hope."
+
+The car had stopped; the chauffeur descended and came around to open
+the door.
+
+"Caron," said the Princess, "no servants are stirring yet. Take my
+key, find a cloak and bring it out--and a coat for Monsieur
+Neeland--the one that Captain Sengoun left the other evening. Have you
+plenty of gasoline?"
+
+"Plenty, madame."
+
+"Good. We leave for Havre in five minutes. Bring the cloak and coat
+quickly."
+
+The chauffeur hastened to the door, unlocked it, disappeared, then
+came out carrying a voluminous wrap and a man's opera cloak. The
+Princess threw the one over Ilse Dumont; Neeland enveloped himself in
+the other.
+
+"Now," murmured the Princess Naia, "it will look more like a late
+automobile party than an ambulance after a free fight--if any early
+servants are watching us."
+
+She descended from the car; Ilse Dumont followed, still clasping the
+cat under her cloak; and Neeland followed her.
+
+"Be very quiet," whispered the Princess. "There is no necessity for
+servants to observe what we do----"
+
+A small and tremulous voice from the head of the stairs interrupted
+her:
+
+"Naia! Is it you?"
+
+"Hush, Ruhannah! Yes, darling, it is I. Everything is all right and
+you may go back to bed----"
+
+"Naia! Where is Mr. Neeland?" continued the voice, fearfully.
+
+"He is here, Rue! He is all right. Go back to your room, dear. I have
+a reason for asking you."
+
+Listening, she heard a door close above; then she touched Ilse on the
+shoulder and motioned her to follow up the stairs. Halfway up the
+Princess halted, bent swiftly over the banisters:
+
+"James!" she called softly.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Go into the pantry and find a fruit basket and fill it with whatever
+food you can find. Hurry, please."
+
+He discovered the pantry presently, and a basket of fruit there.
+Poking about he contrived to disinter from various tins and ice-boxes
+some cold chicken and biscuits and a bottle of claret. These he
+wrapped hastily in a napkin which he found there, placed them in the
+basket of fruit, and came out into the hall just as Ilse Dumont, in
+the collar and cuffs and travelling coat of a servant, descended,
+carrying a satchel and a suitcase.
+
+"Good business!" he whispered, delighted. "You're all right now,
+Scheherazade! And for heaven's sake, keep out of France hereafter. Do
+you promise?"
+
+He had taken the satchel and bag from her and handed both, and the
+fruit basket, to Caron, who stood outside the door.
+
+In the shadowy hall those two confronted each other now, probably for
+the last time. He took both her hands in his.
+
+"Good-bye, Scheherazade dear," he said, with a new seriousness in his
+voice which made the tone of it almost tender.
+
+"G-good-bye----" The girl's voice choked; she bent her head and rested
+her face on the hands he held clasped in his.
+
+He felt her hot tears falling, felt the slender fingers within his
+own tighten convulsively; felt her lips against his hand--an instant
+only; then she turned and slipped through the open door.
+
+A moment later the Princess Naia appeared on the stairs, descending
+lightly and swiftly, her motor coat over her arm.
+
+"Jim," she said in a low voice, "it's the wretched girl's only chance.
+They know about her; they're looking for her now. But I am trusted by
+my Ambassador; I shall have what papers I ask for; I shall get her
+through to an American steamer."
+
+"Princess Naia, you are splendid!"
+
+"You don't think so, Jim; you never did.... Be nice to Rue. The child
+has been dreadfully frightened about you.... And," added the Princess
+Mistchenka with a gaily forced smile, resting her hand on Neeland's
+shoulder for an instant, "don't ever kiss Rue Carew unless you mean it
+with every atom of your heart and soul.... I know the child.... And I
+know you. Be generous to her, James. All women need it, I think, from
+such men as you--such men as you," she added laughingly, "who know not
+what they do."
+
+If there was a subtle constraint in her pretty laughter, if her gay
+gesture lacked spontaneity, he did not perceive it. His face had
+flushed a trifle under her sudden badinage.
+
+"Good-bye," he said. "You _are_ splendid, and I _do_ think so. I know
+you'll win through."
+
+"I shall. I always do--except with you," she added audaciously. And
+"Look for me tomorrow!" she called back to him through the open door;
+and slammed it behind her, leaving him standing there alone in the
+dark and curtained house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE FIRST DAY
+
+
+Neeland had undressed, bathed his somewhat battered body, and had then
+thrown himself on the bed, fully intending to rise in a few moments
+and await breakfast.
+
+But it was a very weary young man who stretched himself out for ten
+minutes' repose. And, when again he unclosed his eyes, the austere
+clock on the mantel informed him that it was five--not five in the
+morning either.
+
+He had slept through the first day of general mobilisation.
+
+Across the lowered latticed blinds late afternoon sunshine struck red.
+The crests of the chestnut trees in the rue Soleil d'Or had turned
+rosy; and a delicate mauve sky, so characteristic of Paris in early
+autumn, already stretched above the city like a frail tent of silk
+from which fragile cobweb clouds hung, tinted with saffron and palest
+rose.
+
+Hoisting the latteen shades, he looked out through lace curtains into
+the most silent city he had ever beheld. Not that the streets and
+avenues were deserted: they swarmed with hurrying, silent people and
+with taxicabs.
+
+Never had he seen so many taxicabs; they streamed by everywhere,
+rushing at high speed. They passed through the rue Soleil d'Or; the
+rue de la Lune fairly whizzed with them; the splendid avenue was
+merely a vista of flying taxis; and in every one of them there was a
+soldier.
+
+Otherwise, except for cyclists, there seemed to be very few soldiers
+in Paris--an odd fact immediately noticeable.
+
+Also there were no omnibuses to be seen, no private automobiles, no
+electric vehicles of any sort except great grey army trucks trundling
+by with a sapper at the wheel.
+
+And, except for the whiz and rush of the motors and the melancholy
+siren blasts from their horns, an immense silence reigned in the
+streets.
+
+There was no laughter to be heard, no loud calling, no gay and
+animated badinage. People who met and stopped conversed in undertones;
+gestures were sober and rare.
+
+And everywhere, in the intense stillness, Red Cross flags hung
+motionless in the late afternoon sunshine; everywhere were posted
+notices warning the Republic of general mobilisation--on dead walls,
+on tree-boxes, on kiosques, on bulletin boards, on the facades of
+public and ecclesiastical buildings.
+
+Another ordinance which Neeland could read from where he stood at the
+window warned all citizens from the streets after eight o'clock in the
+evening; and on the closed iron shutters of every shop in sight of his
+window were pasted white strips of paper bearing, in black letters,
+the same explanation:
+
+"_Ferme a cause de la mobilisation._"
+
+Nowhere could he see the word "war" printed or otherwise displayed.
+The conspiracy of silence concerning it seemed the more ominous.
+
+Nor, listening, could he hear the sinister voices of men and boys
+calling extra editions of the papers. There seemed to be no need for
+the raising of hoarse and threatening voices in the soundless capital.
+Men and youths of all ages traversed the avenues and streets with
+sheafs of fresh, damp newspapers over their ragged arms, but it was
+the populace who crowded after and importuned them, not they the
+people; and no sooner did a paper-seller appear than he was stripped
+of his wares and was counting his coppers under the trees before
+hurrying away for a fresh supply.
+
+Neeland dressed himself in sections, always returning to the window to
+look out; and in this manner he achieved his toilet.
+
+Marotte, the old butler, was on the floor below, carrying a tea tray
+into the wide, sunny sitting-room as Neeland descended.
+
+"I overslept," explained the young American, "and I'm nearly starved.
+Is Mademoiselle Carew having tea?"
+
+"Mademoiselle requested tea for two, sir, in case you should awake,"
+said the old man solemnly.
+
+Neeland watched him fussing about with cloth and table and silver.
+
+"Have you any news?" he asked after a moment.
+
+"Very little, Monsieur Neeland. The police have ordered all Germans
+into detention camps--men, women, and children. It is said that there
+are to be twelve great camps for these unfortunates who are to
+assemble in the Lycee Condorcet for immediate transportation."
+
+Neeland thought of Ilse Dumont. Presently he asked whether any message
+had been received from the Princess Mistchenka.
+
+"Madame the Princess telephoned from Havre at four o'clock this
+afternoon. Mademoiselle Carew has the message."
+
+Neeland, reassured, nodded:
+
+"No other news, Marotte?"
+
+"The military have taken our automobiles from the garage, and have
+requisitioned the car which Madame la Princess is now using, ordering
+us to place it at their disposal as soon as it returns from Havre.
+Also, Monsieur le Capitaine Sengoun has telephoned from the Russian
+Embassy, but Mademoiselle Carew would not permit Monsieur to be
+awakened."
+
+"What did Captain Sengoun say?"
+
+"Mademoiselle Carew received the message."
+
+"And did anyone else call me up?" asked Neeland, smiling.
+
+"_Il y avait une fe--une espece de dame_," replied the old man
+doubtfully, "--who named herself Fifi la Tzigane. I permitted myself
+to observe to her," added the butler with dignity, "that she had the
+liberty of writing to you what she thought necessary to communicate."
+
+He had arranged the tea-table. Now he retired, but returned almost
+immediately to decorate the table with Cloth of Gold roses.
+
+Fussing and pottering about until the mass of lovely blossoms suited
+him, he finally presented himself to Neeland for further orders, and,
+learning that there were none, started to retire with a
+self-respecting dignity that was not at all impaired by the tears
+which kept welling up in his aged eyes, and which he always winked
+away with a _demi-tour_ and a discreet cough correctly stifled by his
+dry and wrinkled hand.
+
+As he passed out the door Neeland said:
+
+"Are you in trouble, Marotte?"
+
+The old man straightened up, and a fierce pride blazed for a moment
+from his faded eyes:
+
+"Not trouble, monsieur; but--when one has three sons departing for the
+front--_dame!_--that makes one reflect a little----"
+
+He bowed with the unconscious dignity of a wider liberty, a subtler
+equality which, for a moment, left such as he indifferent to
+circumstances of station.
+
+Neeland stepped forward extending his hand:
+
+"_Bonne chance!_ God be with France--and with us all who love our
+liberty. Luck to your three sons!"
+
+"I thank monsieur----" He steadied his voice, bowed in the faultless
+garments which were his badge of service, and went his way through the
+silence in the house.
+
+Neeland had walked to the long windows giving on the pretty balcony
+with its delicate, wrought-iron rails and its brilliant masses of
+geraniums.
+
+Outside, along the Avenue, in absolute silence, a regiment of
+cuirassiers was passing, the level sun blazing like sheets of crimson
+fire across their helmets and breastplates. And now, listening, the
+far clatter of their horses came to his ears in an immense, unbroken,
+rattling resonance.
+
+Their gold-fringed standard passed, and the sunlight on the naked
+sabres ran from point to hilt like liquid blood. Sons of the
+Cuirassiers of Morsbronn, grandsons of the Cuirassiers of
+Waterloo--what was their magnificent fate to be?--For splendid it
+could not fail to be, whether tragic or fortunate.
+
+The American's heart began to hammer in his breast and throb in his
+throat, closing it with a sudden spasm that seemed to confuse his
+vision for a moment and turn the distant passing regiment to a
+glittering stream of steel and flame.
+
+Then it had passed; the darkly speeding torrent of motor cars alone
+possessed the Avenue; and Neeland turned away into the room again.
+
+And there, before him, stood Rue Carew.
+
+A confused sense of unreasoning, immeasurable happiness rushed over
+him, and, in that sudden, astounding instant of self-revelation,
+self-amazement left him dumb.
+
+She had given him both her slim white hands, and he held to them as
+though to find his bearings. Both were a trifle irrelevant and
+fragmentary.
+
+"Do you c-care for tea, Jim?... What a night! What a fright you gave
+us.... There are _croissants_, too, and caviar.... I would not permit
+anybody to awaken you; and I was dying to see you----"
+
+"I am so sorry you were anxious about me. And I'm tremendously
+hungry.... You see, Sengoun and I did not mean to remain out all
+night.... I'll help you with that tea; shall I?..."
+
+He still retained her hands in his; she smiled and flushed in a
+breathless sort of way, and looked sometimes at the tea-kettle as
+though she never before had seen such an object; and looked up at him
+as though she had never until that moment beheld any man like him.
+
+"The Princess Naia has left us quite alone," she said, "so I must give
+you some tea." She was nervous and smiling and a little frightened and
+confused with the sense of their contact.
+
+"So--I shall give you your tea, now," she repeated.
+
+She did not mention her manual inability to perform her promise, but
+presently it occurred to him to release her hands, and she slid
+gracefully into her chair and took hold of the silver kettle with
+fingers that trembled.
+
+He ate everything offered him, and then took the initiative. And he
+talked--Oh, heaven! How he talked! Everything that had happened to him
+and to Sengoun from the moment they left the rue Soleil d'Or the night
+before, this garrulous young man detailed with a relish for humorous
+circumstance and a disregard for anything approaching the tragic,
+which left her with an impression that it had all been a tremendous
+lark--indiscreet, certainly, and probably reprehensible--but a lark,
+for all that.
+
+Fireworks, shooting, noise, and architectural destruction he admitted,
+but casualties he skimmed over, and of death he never said a word. Why
+should he? The dead were dead. None concerned this young girl
+now--and, save one, no death that any man had died there in the
+shambles of the Cafe des Bulgars could ever mean anything to Rue
+Carew.
+
+Some day, perhaps, he might tell her that Brandes was dead--not where
+or how he had died--but merely the dry detail. And she might docket
+it, if she cared to, and lay it away among the old, scarcely
+remembered, painful things that had been lived, and now were to be
+forgotten forever.
+
+The silence of intensest interest, shy or excited questions, and the
+grey eyes never leaving his--this was her tribute.
+
+Grey eyes tinged with golden lights, now clear with suspense, now
+brilliant at a crisis, now gentle, wondering, troubled, as he spoke of
+Ilse Dumont and the Russian girl, now charmingly vague as her mind
+outstripped his tongue and she divined something of the sturdy part he
+had played--golden-grey eyes that grew exquisite with her pride in
+him, tender with solicitude for him in dangers already passed
+away--this was her tribute
+
+Engaging grey eyes of a girl with the splendour and mystery of
+womanhood possessing her--attracting him, too, fascinating him,
+threatening, conquering, possessing him--this, the Greek gift of Rue
+Carew, her tribute.
+
+And he took all, forgetting that the Greeks bore gifts; or, perhaps,
+remembering, rejoicing, happy in his servitude, he took into his heart
+and soul the tribute this young girl offered, a grateful, thankful
+captive.
+
+The terrible cataclysm impending, menacing the world, they seemed
+powerless, yet, to grasp and comprehend and understand.
+
+Outside, the street rippled and roared with the interminable clatter
+of passing cavalry: the girl looked into the eyes of the boy across
+the tea-table, and her young eyes, half fearful yet enchanted, scarce
+dared divine what his eyes were telling her while his hurrying tongue
+chattered irrelevancies.
+
+Three empires, two kingdoms, and a great republic resounded with the
+hellish din of arming twenty million men. Her soft lips were touched
+with the smile of youth that learns for the first time it is beloved;
+her eyes of a child, exquisite, brooding, rested with a little more
+courage now on his--were learning, little by little, to sustain his
+gaze, endure the ardour that no careless, laughing speech of his could
+hide or dim or quench.
+
+In the twilight of the streets there was silence, save for the rush of
+motors and the recurrent trample of armed men. But the heart of Rue
+Carew was afire with song--and every delicate vein in her ran singing
+to her heart.
+
+There was war in the Eastern world; and palace and chancellery were
+ablaze. But they spoke of the West--of humble places and lowly homes;
+of still woodlands where mosses edged the brooks; of peaceful
+villages they both had known, where long, tree-shaded streets slept in
+the dappled shadow under the sun of noon.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Marotte came, silent, self-respecting, very grey and tranquil in his
+hour of trial.
+
+There were two letters for Neeland, left by hand. And, when the old
+man had gone away bearing his silver tray among his heavier burdens:
+
+"Read them," nodded Rue Carew.
+
+He read them both aloud to her: the first amused them a little--not
+without troubling them a little, too:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Monsieur Neeland:
+
+It is the Tzigane, Fifi, who permits herself the honour of addressing
+you.
+
+Breslau escaped. With him went the plans, it seems. You behaved
+admirably in the Cafe des Bulgars. A Russian comrade has you and
+Prince Erlik to remember in her prayers.
+
+You have done well, monsieur. Now, your task is ended. Go back to the
+Western World and leave us to end this battle between ourselves.
+
+It is written and confirmed by the stars that what the Eastern World
+has sown it shall now reap all alone.
+
+We Tziganes know. You should not mock at our knowledge. For there is a
+dark star, Erlik, named from the Prince of Hell. And last night it was
+in conjunction with the red star, Mars. None saw it; none has ever
+beheld the dark star, Erlik.
+
+But we Tziganes know. We have known for five thousand years that Erlik
+hung aloft, followed by ten black moons. Ask your astronomers. But we
+Tziganes knew this before there ever were astronomers!
+
+Therefore, go home to your own land, monsieur. The Prince of Hell is
+in the heavens. The Yellow Devil shall see the Golden Horn again.
+Empires shall totter and fall. Little American, stand from under.
+
+Adieu! We Tziganes wish you well--Fifi and Nini of the Jardin Russe.
+
+"Adieu, _beau jeune homme_! And--_to her whom you shall take with
+you_--homage, good wishes, good augury, and adieux!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"'To her whom you shall take with you,'" he repeated, looking at Rue
+Carew.
+
+The girl blushed furiously and bent her head, and her slender fingers
+grew desperately busy with her handkerchief.
+
+Neeland, as nervous as she, fumbled with the seal of the remaining
+letter, managed finally to break it, glanced at the writing, then
+laughed and read:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+My dear Comrade Neeland:
+
+I get my thousand lances! Congratulate me! Were you much battered by
+that _canaille_ last night? I laugh until I nearly burst when I think
+of that absurd _bousculade_!
+
+That girl I took with me is all right. I'm going to Petrograd! I'm
+going on the first opportunity by way of Switzerland.
+
+What happiness, Neeland! No more towns for me, except those I take. No
+more politics, no more diplomacy! I shall have a thousand lances to do
+my talking for me. Hurrah!
+
+Neeland, I love you as a brother. Come to the East with me. You shall
+make a splendid trooper! Not, of course, a Terek Cossack. A Cossack is
+God's work. A Terek Cossack is born, not made.
+
+But, good heavens! There is other most excellent cavalry in the world,
+I hope! Come with me to Russia. Say that you will come, my dear
+comrade Neeland, and I promise you we shall amuse ourselves when the
+world's dance begins----
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Oh!" breathed the girl, exasperated. "Sengoun is a fool!"
+
+Neeland looked up quickly from his letter; then his face altered, and
+he rose; but Rue Carew was already on her feet; and she had lost most
+of her colour--and her presence of mind, too, it seemed, for Neeland's
+arms were half around her, and her hands were against his shoulders.
+
+Neither of them spoke; and he was already amazed and rather scared at
+his own incredible daring--already terribly afraid of this slender,
+fragrant creature who stood rigid and silent within the circle of his
+arm, her head lowered, her little, resisting hands pressed
+convulsively against his breast.
+
+And after a long time the pressure against his breast slowly relaxed;
+her restless fingers moved nervously against his shoulders, picked at
+the lapels of his coat, clung there as he drew her head against his
+breast.
+
+The absurd beating of his heart choked him as he stammered her name;
+he dropped his head beside her hot and half hidden cheek. And, after a
+long, long time, her face stirred on his breast, turned a very little
+toward him, and her young lips melted against his.
+
+So they stood through the throbbing silence in the slowly darkening
+room, while the street outside echoed with the interminable trample of
+passing cavalry, and the dim capital lay like a phantom city under the
+ghostly lances of the searchlights as though probing all Heaven to the
+very feet of God in search of reasons for the hellish crime now
+launched against the guiltless Motherland.
+
+And high among the planets sped the dark star, Erlik, unseen by men,
+rushing through viewless interstellar space, hurled out of nothing by
+the Prince of Hell into the nothing toward which all Hell is speeding,
+too; and whither it shall one day fade and disappear and pass away
+forever.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"My darling----"
+
+"Oh, Jim--I have loved you all my life," she whispered. And her young
+arms crept up and clung around his neck.
+
+"My darling Rue--my little Rue Carew----"
+
+Outside the window an officer also spoke through the unbroken clatter
+of passing horsemen which filled the whole house with a hollow roar.
+But she heard her lover's voice alone as in a hushed and magic world;
+and in her girl's enchanted ears his words were the only sounds that
+stirred a heavenly quiet that reigned between the earth and stars.
+
+
+
+
+Popular Copyright Novels
+
+AT MODERATE PRICES
+
+Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of
+A. L. Burt Company's Popular Copyright Fiction
+
+Abner Daniel. By Will N. Harben.
+Adventures of Gerard. By A. Conan Doyle.
+Adventures of a Modest Man. By Robert W. Chambers.
+Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle.
+Adventures of Jimmie Dale, The. By Frank L. Packard.
+After House, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart.
+Alisa Paige. By Robert W. Chambers.
+Alton of Somasco. By Harold Bindloss.
+A Man's Man. By Ian Hay.
+Amateur Gentleman, The. By Jeffery Farnol.
+Andrew The Glad. By Maria Thompson Daviess.
+Ann Boyd. By Will N. Harben.
+Anna the Adventuress. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+Another Man's Shoes. By Victor Bridges.
+Ariadne of Allan Water. By Sidney McCall.
+Armchair at the Inn, The. By F. Hopkinson Smith.
+Around Old Chester. By Margaret Deland.
+Athalie. By Robert W. Chambers.
+At the Mercy of Tiberius. By Augusta Evans Wilson.
+Auction Block, The. By Rex Beach.
+Aunt Jane. By Jeanette Lee.
+Aunt Jane of Kentucky. By Eliza C. Hall.
+Awakening of Helena Richie. By Margaret Deland.
+
+Bambi. By Marjorie Benton Cooke.
+Bandbox, The. By Louis Joseph Vance.
+Barbara of the Snows. By Harry Irving Green.
+Bar 20. By Clarence E. Mulford.
+Bar 20 Days. By Clarence E. Mulford.
+Barrier, The. By Rex Beach.
+Beasts of Tarzan, The. By Edgar Rice Burroughs.
+Beechy. By Bettina Von Hutten.
+Bella Donna. By Robert Hichens.
+Beloved Vagabond, The. By Wm. J. Locke.
+Beltane the Smith. By Jeffery Farnol.
+Ben Blair. By Will Lillibridge.
+Betrayal, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+Better Man, The. By Cyrus Townsend Brady.
+Beulah. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.
+Beyond the Frontier. By Randall Parrish.
+Black Is White. By George Barr McCutcheon.
+
+
+
+
+Popular Copyright Novels
+
+AT MODERATE PRICES
+
+Ask Your Dealer for a Complete List of
+A. L. Burt Company's Popular Copyright Fiction
+
+Blind Man's Eyes, The. By Wm. MacHarg & Edwin Balmer.
+Bob Hampton of Placer. By Randall Parrish.
+Bob, Son of Battle. By Alfred Ollivant.
+Britton of the Seventh. By Cyrus Townsend Brady.
+Broad Highway, The. By Jeffery Farnol.
+Bronze Bell, The. By Louis Joseph Vance.
+Bronze Eagle, The. By Baroness Orczy.
+Buck Peters, Ranchman. By Clarence E. Mulford.
+Business of Life, The. By Robert W. Chambers.
+By Right of Purchase. By Harold Bindloss.
+
+Cabbages and Kings. By O. Henry.
+Calling of Dan Matthews, The. By Harold Bell Wright.
+Cape Cod Stories. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+Cap'n Dan's Daughter. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+Cap'n Eri. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+Cap'n Warren's Wards. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+Cardigan. By Robert W. Chambers.
+Carpet From Bagdad, The. By Harold MacGrath.
+Cease Firing. By Mary Johnson.
+Chain of Evidence, A. By Carolyn Wells.
+Chief Legatee, The. By Anna Katharine Green.
+Cleek of Scotland Yard. By T. W. Hanshew.
+Clipped Wings. By Rupert Hughes.
+Coast of Adventure, The. By Harold Bindloss.
+Colonial Free Lance, A. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss.
+Coming of Cassidy, The. By Clarence E. Mulford.
+Coming of the Law, The. By Chas. A. Seltzer.
+Conquest of Canaan, The. By Booth Tarkington.
+Conspirators, The. By Robt. W. Chambers.
+Counsel for the Defense. By Leroy Scott.
+Court of Inquiry, A. By Grace S. Richmond.
+Crime Doctor, The. By E. W. Hornung.
+Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure. By Rex Beach.
+Cross Currents. By Eleanor H. Porter.
+Cry in the Wilderness, A. By Mary E. Waller.
+Cynthia of the Minute. By Louis Jos. Vance.
+
+Dark Hollow, The. By Anna Katharine Green.
+Dave's Daughter. By Patience Bevier Cole.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dark Star, by Robert W. Chambers
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