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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Moonlit Way, by Robert W. Chambers,
+Illustrated by A. I. Keller
+
+
+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 Moonlit Way
+
+
+Author: Robert W. Chambers
+
+
+
+Release Date: August 28, 2010  [eBook #33557]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOONLIT WAY***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Katherine Ward, Darleen Dove, Roger Frank, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 33557-h.htm or 33557-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33557/33557-h/33557-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33557/33557-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MOONLIT WAY
+
+A Novel
+
+by
+
+ROBERT W. CHAMBERS
+
+Author of "The Common Law," "The Fighting Chance," Etc.
+
+Illustrated by A. I. Keller
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+D. Appleton and Company   New York  London   1919
+
+
+[Illustration: HIS STRAINED GAZE SOUGHT TO FIX ITSELF ON THIS
+FACE--(PAGE 325)]
+
+
+Copyright, 1919, by Robert W. Chambers
+
+Copyright, 1918, 1919, by the International Magazine Co.
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+TO MY FRIEND FRANK HITCHCOCK
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+          Prologue--Claire-de-Lune                                   1
+       I. A Shadow Dance                                            19
+      II. Sunrise                                                   28
+     III. Sunset                                                    39
+      IV. Dusk                                                      46
+       V. In Dragon Court                                           57
+      VI. Dulcie                                                    78
+     VII. Opportunity Knocks                                        87
+    VIII. Dulcie Answers                                           102
+      IX. Her Day                                                  109
+       X. Her Evening                                              123
+      XI. Her Night                                                131
+     XII. The Last Mail                                            155
+    XIII. A Midnight Tête-à-Tête                                   170
+     XIV. Problems                                                 186
+      XV. Blackmail                                                194
+     XVI. The Watcher                                              205
+    XVII. A Conference                                             216
+   XVIII. The Babbler                                              233
+     XIX. A Chance Encounter                                       249
+      XX. Grogan's                                                 265
+     XXI. The White Blackbird                                      278
+    XXII. Foreland Farms                                           292
+   XXIII. A Lion in the Path                                       312
+    XXIV. A Silent House                                           328
+     XXV. Starlight                                                339
+    XXVI. 'Be-N Eirinn I!                                          349
+   XXVII. The Moonlit Way                                          366
+  XXVIII. Green Jackets                                            385
+    XXIX. Asthore                                                  407
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+  His strained gaze sought to fix itself on this face
+      before him                                          Frontispiece
+  Nihla put her feathered steed through its absurd
+      paces                                                          8
+  "You little miracle!"                                            100
+  He came toward her stealthily                                    382
+
+
+
+
+  Novels By Robert W. Chambers
+
+  The Laughing Girl
+  The Restless Sex
+  Barbarians
+  The Dark Star
+  The Girl Philippa
+  Who Goes There!
+  Athalie
+  The Business of Life
+  The Gay Rebellion
+  The Streets of Ascalon
+  The Common Law
+  The Fighting Chance
+  The Younger Set
+  The Danger Mark
+  The Firing Line
+  Japonette
+  Quick Action
+  The Adventures of A Modest Man
+  Anne's Bridge
+  Between Friends
+  The Better Man
+  Police!!!
+  Some Ladies in Haste
+  The Tree of Heaven
+  The Tracer of Lost Persons
+  The Hidden Children
+  The Moonlit Way
+  Cardigan
+  The Reckoning
+  The Maid-at-Arms
+  Ailsa Paige
+  Special Messenger
+  The Haunts of Men
+  Lorraine
+  Maids of Paradise
+  Ashes of Empire
+  The Red Republic
+  Blue-Bird Weather
+  A Young Man in a Hurry
+  The Green Mouse
+  Iole
+  The Mystery of Choice
+  The Cambric Mask
+  The Maker of Moons
+  The King in Yellow
+  In Search of the Unknown
+  The Conspiritors
+  A King and a Few Dukes
+  In the Quarter
+  Outsiders
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+CLAIRE-DE-LUNE
+
+
+There was a big moon over the Bosphorus; the limpid waters off
+Seraglio Point glimmered; the Golden Horn was like a sheet of beaten
+silver inset with topaz and ruby where lanterns on rusting Turkish
+warships dyed the tarnished argent of the flood. Except for these, and
+the fixed lights on the foreign guard-ships and on a big American
+steam yacht, only a pale and nebulous shoreward glow betrayed the
+monster city.
+
+Over Pera the full moon's lustre fell, silvering palace, villa, sea
+and coast; its rays glimmered on bridge and wharf, bastion, tower
+arsenal, and minarette, transforming those big, sprawling, ramshackle
+blotches of architecture called Constantinople into that shadowy,
+magnificent enchantment of the East, which all believe in, but which
+exists only in a poet's heart and mind.
+
+Night veiled the squalour of Balat, and its filth, its meanness, its
+flimsy sham. Moonlight made of Galata a marvel, ennobling every
+bastard dome, every starved façade, every unlovely and attenuated
+minarette, and invested with added charm each really lovely ruin, each
+tower, palace, mosque, garden wall and balcony, and every crenelated
+battlement, where the bronze bulk of ancient cannon slanted, outlined
+in silver under the Prophet's moon.
+
+Tiny moving lights twinkled on the Galata Bridge; pale points of
+radiance dotted Scutari; but the group of amazing cities called
+Constantinople lay almost blotted out under the moon.
+
+Darker at night than any capital in the world, its huge, solid and
+ancient shapes bulking gigantic in the night, its noble ruins cloaked,
+its cheap filth hidden, its flimsy Coney Island aspect transfigured
+and the stylographic-pen architecture of a hundred minarettes softened
+into slender elegance, Constantinople lay dreaming its immemorial
+dreams under the black shadow of the Prussian eagle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The German Embassy was lighted up like a Pera café; the drawing-rooms
+crowded with a brilliant throng where sashes, orders, epaulettes and
+sabre-tache glittered, and jewels blazed and aigrettes waved under the
+crystal chandeliers, accenting and isolating sombre civilian evening
+dress, which seemed mournful, rusty, and out of the picture, even when
+plastered over with jewelled stars.
+
+Few Turkish officials and officers were present, but the disquieting
+sight of German officers in Turkish uniforms was not uncommon. And the
+Count d'Eblis, Senator of France, noted this phenomenon with lively
+curiosity, and mentioned it to his companion, Ferez Bey.
+
+Ferez Bey, lounging in a corner with Adolf Gerhardt, for whom he had
+procured an invitation, and flanked by the Count d'Eblis, likewise a
+guest aboard the rich German-American banker's yacht, was very much in
+his element as friend and mentor.
+
+For Ferez Bey knew everybody in the Orient--knew when to cringe, when
+to be patronising, when to fawn, when to assert himself, when to be
+servile, when impudent.
+
+He was as impudent to Adolf Gerhardt as he dared be, the banker not
+knowing the subtler shades and differences; he was on an equality with
+the French senator, Monsieur le Comte d'Eblis because he knew that
+d'Eblis dared not resent his familiarity.
+
+Otherwise, in that brilliant company, Ferez Bey was a jackal--and he
+knew it perfectly--but a valuable jackal; and he also knew that.
+
+So when the German Ambassador spoke pleasantly to him, his attitude
+was just sufficiently servile, but not overdone; and when Von-der-Hohe
+Pasha, in the uniform of a Turkish General of Division, graciously
+exchanged a polite word with him during a moment's easy gossip with
+the Count d'Eblis, Ferez Bey writhed moderately under the honour, but
+did not exactly squirm.
+
+To Conrad von Heimholz he ventured to present his German-American
+patron, Adolf Gerhardt, and the thin young military attaché
+condescended in his Prussian way to notice the introduction.
+
+"Saw your yacht in the harbour," he admitted stiffly. "It is
+astonishing how you Americans permit no bounds to your somewhat
+noticeable magnificence."
+
+"She's a good boat, the _Mirage_," rumbled Gerhardt, in his bushy red
+beard, "but there are plenty in America finer than mine."
+
+"Not many, Adolf," insisted Ferez, in his flat, Eurasian voice--"not
+ver' many anyw'ere so fine like your _Mirage_."
+
+"I saw none finer at Kiel," said the attaché, staring at Gerhardt
+through his monocle, with the habitual insolence and disapproval of
+the Prussian junker. "To me it exhibits bad taste"--he turned to the
+Count d'Eblis--"particularly when the _Meteor_ is there."
+
+"Where?" asked the Count.
+
+"At Kiel. I speak of Kiel and the ostentation of certain foreign yacht
+owners at the recent regatta."
+
+Gerhardt, redder than ever, was still German enough to swallow the
+meaningless insolence. He was not getting on very well at the Embassy
+of his fellow countrymen. Americans, properly presented, they endured
+without too open resentment; for German-Americans, even when
+millionaires, their contempt and bad manners were often undisguised.
+
+"I'm going to get out of this," growled Gerhardt, who held a good
+position socially in New York and in the fashionable colony at
+Northbrook. "I've seen enough puffed up Germans and over-embroidered
+Turks to last me. Come on, d'Eblis----"
+
+Ferez detained them both:
+
+"Surely," he protested, "you would not miss Nihla!"
+
+"Nihla?" repeated d'Eblis, who had passed his arm through Gerhardt's.
+"Is that the girl who set St. Petersburg by the ears?"
+
+"Nihla Quellen," rumbled Gerhardt. "I've heard of her. She's a dancer,
+isn't she?"
+
+Ferez, of course, knew all about her, and he drew the two men into the
+embrasure of a long window.
+
+It was not happening just exactly as he and the German Ambassador had
+planned it together; they had intended to let Nihla burst like a
+flaming jewel on the vision of d'Eblis and blind him then and there.
+
+Perhaps, after all, it was better drama to prepare her entrance. And
+who but Ferez was qualified to prepare that entrée, or to speak with
+authority concerning the history of this strange and beautiful young
+girl who had suddenly appeared like a burning star in the East, had
+passed like a meteor through St. Petersburg, leaving several
+susceptible young men--notably the Grand Duke Cyril--mentally unhinged
+and hopelessly dissatisfied with fate.
+
+"It is ver' fonny, d'Eblis--une histoire chic, vous savez! Figurez
+vous----"
+
+"Talk English," growled Gerhardt, eyeing the serene progress of a
+pretty Highness, Austrian, of course, surrounded by gorgeous uniforms
+and empressement.
+
+"Who's that?" he added.
+
+Ferez turned; the gorgeous lady snubbed him, but bowed to d'Eblis.
+
+"The Archduchess Zilka," he said, not a whit abashed. "She is a ver'
+great frien' of mine."
+
+"Can't you present me?" enquired Gerhardt, restlessly; "--or you,
+d'Eblis--can't you ask permission?"
+
+The Count d'Eblis nodded inattentively, then turned his heavy and
+rather vulgar face to Ferez, plainly interested in the "histoire" of
+the girl, Nihla.
+
+"What were you going to say about that dancer?" he demanded.
+
+Ferez pretended to forget, then, apparently recollecting:
+
+"Ah! Apropos of Nihla? It is a ver' piquant storee--the storee of
+Nihla Quellen. Zat is not 'er name. No! Her name is Dunois--Thessalie
+Dunois."
+
+"French," nodded d'Eblis.
+
+"Alsatian," replied Ferez slyly. "Her fathaire was captain--Achille
+Dunois?--you know----?"
+
+"What!" exclaimed d'Eblis. "Do you mean that notorious fellow, the
+Grand Duke Cyril's hunting cheetah?"
+
+"The same, dear frien'. Dunois is dead--his bullet head was crack
+open, doubtless by som' ladee's angree husban'. There are a few
+thousan' roubles--not more--to stan' between some kind gentleman and
+the prettee Nihla. You see?" he added to Gerhardt, who was listening
+without interest, "--Dunois, if he was the Gran' Duke's cheetah, kept
+all such merry gentlemen from his charming daughtaire."
+
+Gerhardt, whose aspirations lay higher, socially, than a dancing girl,
+merely grunted. But d'Eblis, whose aspirations were always below even
+his own level, listened with visibly increasing curiosity. And this
+was according to the programme of Ferez Bey and Excellenz. As the Hun
+has it, "according to plan."
+
+"Well," enquired d'Eblis heavily, "did Cyril get her?"
+
+"All St. Petersburg is still laughing at heem," replied the voluble
+Eurasian. "Cyril indeed launched her. And that was sufficient--yet,
+that first night she storm St. Petersburg. And Cyril's reward? Listen,
+d'Eblis, they say she slapped his sillee face. For me, I don't know.
+That is the storee. And he was ver' angree, Cyril. You know? And, by
+God, it was what Gerhardt calls a 'raw deal.' Yess? Figurez
+vous!--this girl, déjà lancée--and her fathaire the Grand Duke's
+hunting cheetah, and her mothaire, what? Yes, mon ami, a 'andsome
+Géorgianne, caught quite wild, they say, by Prince Haledine! For me, I
+believe it. Why not?... And then the beautiful Géorgianne, she fell to
+Dunois--on a bet?--a service rendered?--gratitude of Cyril?----Who
+knows? Only that Dunois must marry her. And Nihla is their daughtaire.
+Voilà!"
+
+"Then why," demanded d'Eblis, "does she make such a fuss about being
+grateful? I hate ingratitude, Ferez. And how can she last, anyway? To
+dance for the German Ambassador in Constantinople is all very well,
+but unless somebody launches her properly--in Paris--she'll end in a
+Pera café."
+
+Ferez held his peace and listened with all his might.
+
+"I could do that," added d'Eblis.
+
+"Please?" inquired Ferez suavely.
+
+"Launch her in Paris."
+
+The programme of Excellenz and Ferez Bey was certainly proceeding as
+planned.
+
+But Gerhardt was becoming restless and dully irritated as he began to
+realise more and more what caste meant to Prussians and how
+insignificant to these people was a German-American multimillionaire.
+And Ferez realised that he must do something.
+
+There was a Bavarian Baroness there, uglier than the usual run of
+Bavarian baronesses; and to her Ferez nailed Gerhardt, and wriggled
+free himself, making his way amid the gorgeous throngs to the Count
+d'Eblis once more.
+
+"I left Gerhardt planted," he remarked with satisfaction; "by God, she
+is uglee like camels--the Baroness von Schaunitz! Nev' mind. It is
+nobility; it is the same to Adolf Gerhardt."
+
+"A homely woman makes me sick!" remarked d'Eblis. "Eh, mon Dieu!--one
+has merely to look at these ladies to guess their nationality! Only in
+Germany can one gather together such a collection of horrors. The only
+pretty ones are Austrian."
+
+Perhaps even the cynicism of Excellenz had not realised the perfection
+of this setting, but Ferez, the nimble witted, had foreseen it.
+
+Already the glittering crowds in the drawing rooms were drawing aside
+like jewelled curtains; already the stringed orchestra had become mute
+aloft in its gilded gallery.
+
+The gay tumult softened; laughter, voices, the rustle of silks and
+fans, the metallic murmur of drawing-room equipment died away. Through
+the increasing stillness, from the gilded gallery a Thessalonian reed
+began skirling like a thrush in the underbrush.
+
+Suddenly a sand-coloured curtain at the end of the east room twitched
+open, and a great desert ostrich trotted in. And, astride of the big,
+excited, bridled bird, sat a young girl, controlling her restless
+mount with disdainful indifference.
+
+"Nihla!" whispered Ferez, in the large, fat ear of the Count d'Eblis.
+The latter's pallid jowl reddened and his pendulous lips tightened to
+a deep-bitten crease across his face.
+
+To the weird skirling of the Thessalonian pipe the girl, Nihla, put
+her feathered steed through its absurd paces, aping the haute-école.
+
+There is little humour in your Teuton; they were too amazed to laugh;
+too fascinated, possibly by the girl herself, to follow the panicky
+gambols of the reptile-headed bird.
+
+The girl wore absolutely nothing except a Yashmak and a zone of blue
+jewels across her breasts and hips.
+
+Her childish throat, her limbs, her slim, snowy body, her little naked
+feet were lovely beyond words. Her thick dark hair flew loose, now
+framing, now veiling an oval face from which, above the gauzy
+Yashmak's edge, two dark eyes coolly swept her breathless audience.
+
+But under the frail wisp of cobweb, her cheeks glowed pink, and two
+full red lips parted deliciously in the half-checked laughter of
+confident, reckless youth.
+
+[Illustration: NIHLA PUT HER FEATHERED STEED THROUGH ITS ABSURD PACES]
+
+Over hurdle after hurdle she lifted her powerful, half-terrified
+mount; she backed it, pirouetted, made it squat, leap, pace, trot,
+run with wings half spread and neck stretched level.
+
+She rode sideways, then kneeling, standing, then poised on one foot;
+she threw somersaults, faced to the rear, mounted and dismounted at
+full speed. And through the frail, transparent Yashmak her parted red
+lips revealed the glimmer of teeth and her childishly engaging
+laughter rang delightfully.
+
+Then, abruptly, she had enough of her bird; she wheeled, sprang to the
+polished parquet, and sent her feathered steed scampering away through
+the sand-coloured curtains, which switched into place again
+immediately.
+
+Breathless, laughing that frank, youthful, irresistible laugh which
+was to become so celebrated in Europe, Nihla Quellen strolled
+leisurely around the circle of her applauding audience, carelessly
+blowing a kiss or two from her slim finger-tips, evidently quite
+unspoiled by her success and equally delighted to please and to be
+pleased.
+
+Then, in the gilded gallery the strings began; and quite naturally,
+without any trace of preparation or self-consciousness, Nihla
+began to sing, dancing when the fascinating, irresponsible measure
+called for it, singing again as the sequence occurred. And the
+enchantment of it all lay in its accidental and detached allure--as
+though it all were quite spontaneous--the song a passing whim, the
+dance a capricious after-thought, and the whole thing done entirely to
+please herself and give vent to the sheer delight of a young girl, in
+her own overwhelming energy and youthful spirits.
+
+Even the Teuton comprehended that, and the applause grew to a roar
+with that odd undertone of animal menace always to be detected when
+the German herd is gratified and expresses pleasure en masse.
+
+But she wouldn't stay, wouldn't return. Like one of those beautiful
+Persian cats, she had lingered long enough to arouse delight. Then she
+went, deaf to recall, to persuasion, to caress--indifferent to praise,
+to blandishment, to entreaty. Cat and dancer were similar; Nihla, like
+the Persian puss, knew when she had had enough. That was sufficient
+for her: nothing could stop her, nothing lure her to return.
+
+Beads of sweat were glistening upon the heavy features of the Count
+d'Eblis. Von-der-Goltz Pasha, strolling near, did him the honour to
+remember him, but d'Eblis seemed dazed and unresponsive; and the old
+Pasha understood, perhaps, when he caught the beady and expressive
+eyes of Ferez fixed on him in exultation.
+
+"Whose is she?" demanded d'Eblis abruptly. His voice was hoarse and
+evidently out of control, for he spoke too loudly to please Ferez, who
+took him by the arm and led him out to the moonlit terrace.
+
+"Mon pauvere ami," he said soothingly, "she is actually the propertee
+of nobodee at present. Cyril, they say, is following her--quite ready
+for anything--marriage----"
+
+"What!"
+
+Ferez shrugged:
+
+"That is the gosseep. No doubt som' man of wealth, more acceptable to
+her----"
+
+"I wish to meet her!" said d'Eblis.
+
+"Ah! That is, of course, not easee----"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Ferez laughed:
+
+"Ask yo'self the question again! Excellenz and his guests have gone
+quite mad ovaire Nihla----"
+
+"I care nothing for them," retorted d'Eblis thickly; "I wish to know
+her.... I wish to know her!... _Do you understand?_"
+
+After a silence, Ferez turned in the moonlight and looked at the Count
+d'Eblis.
+
+"And your newspapaire--_Le Mot d'Ordre_?"
+
+"Yes.... If you get her for me."
+
+"You sell to me for two million francs the control stock in _Le Mot
+d'Ordre_?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"An' the two million, eh?"
+
+"I shall use my influence with Gerhardt. That is all I can do. If your
+Emperor chooses to decorate him--something--the Red Eagle, third
+class, perhaps----"
+
+"I attend to those," smiled Ferez. "Hit's ver' fonny, d'Eblis, how I
+am thinking about those Red Eagles all time since I know Gerhardt. I
+spik to Von-der-Goltz de votre part, si vous le voulez? Oui?
+Alors----"
+
+"Ask her to supper aboard the yacht."
+
+"God knows----"
+
+The Count d'Eblis said through closed teeth:
+
+"There is the first woman I ever really wanted in all my life!... I am
+standing here now waiting for her--waiting to be presented to her
+now."
+
+"I spik to Von-der-Goltz Pasha," said Ferez; and he slipped through
+the palms and orange trees and vanished.
+
+For half an hour the Count d'Eblis stood there, motionless in the
+moonlight.
+
+She came about that time, on the arm of Ferez Bey, her father's friend
+of many years.
+
+And Ferez left her there in the creamy Turkish moonlight on the
+flowering terrace, alone with the Count d'Eblis.
+
+When Ferez came again, long after midnight, with Excellenz on one arm
+and the proud and happy Adolf Gerhardt on the other, the whole cycle
+of a little drama had been played to a conclusion between those two
+shadowy figures under the flowering almonds on the terrace--between
+this slender, dark-eyed girl and this big, bulky, heavy-visaged man of
+the world.
+
+And the man had been beaten and the girl had laid down every term. And
+the compact was this: that she was to be launched in Paris; she was
+merely to borrow any sum needed, with privilege to acquit the debt
+within the year; that, if she ever came to care for this man
+sufficiently, she was to become only one species of masculine
+property--a legal wife.
+
+And to every condition--and finally even to the last, the man had
+bowed his heavy, burning head.
+
+"D'Eblis!" began Gerhardt, almost stammering in his joy and pride.
+"His highness tells me that I am to have an order--an Imperial
+d-decoration----"
+
+D'Eblis stared at him out of unseeing eyes; Nihla laughed outright,
+alas, too early wise and not even troubling her lovely head to wonder
+why a decoration had been asked for this burly, bushy-bearded man from
+nowhere.
+
+But within his sinuous, twisted soul Ferez writhed exultingly, and
+patted Gerhardt on the arm, and patted d'Eblis, too--dared even to
+squirm visibly closer to Excellenz, like a fawning dog that fears too
+much to venture contact in his wriggling demonstrations.
+
+"You take with you our pretty wonder-child to Paris to be launched, I
+hear," remarked Excellenz, most affably, to d'Eblis. And to Nihla:
+"And upon a yacht fit for an emperor, I understand. Ach! Such a going
+forth is only heard of in the Arabian Nights. Eh bien, ma petite, go
+West, conquer, and reign! It is a prophecy!"
+
+And Nihla threw back her head and laughed her full-throated laughter
+under the Turkish moon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later, Ferez, walking with the Ambassador, replied humbly to the curt
+question:
+
+"Yes, I have become his jackal. But always at the orders of
+Excellenz."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later still, aboard the _Mirage_, Ferez stood alone by the after-rail,
+staring with ratty eyes at the blackness beyond the New Bridge.
+
+"Oh, God, be merciful!" he whispered. He had often said it on the
+eve of crime. Even an Eurasian rat has emotions. And Ferez had
+been in love with Nihla many years, and was selling her now at a
+price--selling her and Adolf Gerhardt and the Count d'Eblis and
+France--all he had to barter--for he had sold his soul too long
+ago to remember even what he got for it.
+
+The silence seemed more intense for the sounds that made it audible.
+From, the unlighted cities on the seven hills came an unbroken howling
+of dogs; transparent waves of the limpid Bosphorus slapped the
+vessel's sides, making a mellow and ceaseless clatter. Far away beyond
+Galata Quay, in the inner reek of unseen Stamboul, the notes of a
+Turkish flute stole out across the darkness, where some Tzigane--some
+unseen wretch in rags--was playing the melancholy song of Mourad. And,
+mournfully responsive to the reedy complaint of a homeless wanderer
+from a nation without a home, the homeless dogs of Islam wailed their
+miserere under the Prophet's moon.
+
+The tragic wolf-song wavered from hill to hill; from the Fields of the
+Dead to the Seven Towers, from Kassim to Tophane, seeming to swell
+into one dreadful, endless plaint:
+
+"My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"
+
+"And me!" muttered Ferez, shivering in the windy vapours from the
+Black Sea, which already dampened his face with their creeping summer
+chill.
+
+"Ferez!"
+
+He turned slowly. Swathed in a white wool bernous, Nihla stood there
+in the foggy moonlight.
+
+"Why?" she enquired, without preliminaries and with the unfeigned
+curiosity of a child.
+
+He did not pretend to misunderstand her in French:
+
+"Thou knowest, Nihla. I have never touched thy heart. I could do
+nothing for thee----"
+
+"Except to sell me," she smiled, interrupting him in English, without
+the slightest trace of accent.
+
+But Ferez preferred the refuge of French:
+
+"Except to launch thee and make possible thy career," he corrected her
+very gently.
+
+"I thought you were in love with me?"
+
+"I have loved thee, Nihla, since thy childhood."
+
+"Is there anything on earth or in paradise, Ferez, that you would not
+sell for a price?"
+
+"I tell thee----"
+
+"Zut! I know thee, Ferez!" she mocked him, slipping easily into
+French. "What was my price? Who pays thee, Colonel Ferez? This big,
+shambling, world-wearied Count, who is, nevertheless, afraid of me?
+Did he pay thee? Or was it this rich American, Gerhardt? Or was it
+Von-der-Goltz? Or Excellenz?"
+
+"Nihla! Thou knowest me----"
+
+Her clear, untroubled laughter checked him:
+
+"I know you, Ferez. That is why I ask. That is why I shall have no
+reply from you. Only my wits can ever answer me any questions."
+
+She stood laughing at him, swathed in her white wool, looming like
+some mocking spectre in the misty moonlight of the after-deck.
+
+"Oh, Ferez," she said in her sweet, malicious voice, "there was a
+curse on Midas, too! You play at high finance; you sell what you never
+had to sell, and you are paid for it. All your life you have been busy
+selling, re-selling, bargaining, betraying, seeking always gain where
+only loss is possible--loss of all that justifies a man in daring to
+stand alive before the God that made him!... And yet--that which you
+call love--that shadowy emotion which you have also sold to-night--I
+think you really feel for me.... Yes, I believe it.... But it, too,
+has its price.... _What_ was that price, Ferez?"
+
+"Believe me, Nihla----"
+
+"Oh, Ferez, you ask too much! No! Let _me_ tell _you_, then. The price
+was paid by that American, who is not one but a German."
+
+"That is absurd!"
+
+"Why the Red Eagle, then? And the friendship of Excellenz? What is
+he then, this Gerhardt, but a millionaire? Why is nobility so
+gracious then? What does Gerhardt give for his Red Eagle?--for the
+politeness of Excellenz?--for the crooked smile of a Bavarian
+Baroness and the lifted lorgnette of Austria? What does he give for
+_me_? Who buys me after all? Enver? Talaat? Hilmi? Who sells me?
+Excellenz? Von-der-Goltz? You? And who pays for me? Gerhardt, who
+takes his profit in Red Eagles and offers me to d'Eblis for
+something in exchange to please Excellenz--and you? And what, at the
+end of the bargaining, does d'Eblis pay for me--pay through Gerhardt
+to you, and through you to Excellenz, and through Excellenz to the
+Kaiser Wilhelm II----"
+
+Ferez, showing his teeth, came close to her and spoke very softly:
+
+"See how white is the moonlight off Seraglio Point, my Nihla!... It is
+no whiter than those loveliest ones who lie fathoms deep below these
+little silver waves.... Each with her bowstring snug about her snowy
+neck.... As fair and young, as warm and fresh and sweet as thou, my
+Nihla."
+
+He smiled at her; and if the smile stiffened an instant on her lips,
+the next instant her light, dauntless laughter mocked him.
+
+"For a price," she said, "you would sell even Life to that old miser,
+Death! Then listen what you have done, little smiling, whining jackal
+of his Excellency! I go to Paris and to my career, certain of my happy
+destiny, sure of myself! For my opportunity I pay if I choose--pay
+_what_ I choose--when and where it suits me to pay!----"
+
+She slipped into French with a little laugh:
+
+"Now go and lick thy fingers of whatever crumbs have stuck there. The
+Count d'Eblis is doubtless licking his. Good appetite, my Ferez! Lick
+away lustily, for God does not temper the jackal's appetite to his
+opportunities!"
+
+Ferez let his level gaze rest on her in silence.
+
+"Well, trafficker in Eagles, dealer in love, vendor of youth, merchant
+of souls, what strikes you silent?"
+
+But he was thinking of something sharper than her tongue and less
+subtle, which one day might strike her silent if she laughed too much
+at Fate.
+
+And, thinking, he showed his teeth again in that noiseless snicker
+which was his smile and laughter too.
+
+The girl regarded him for a moment, then deliberately mimicked his
+smile:
+
+"The dogs of Stamboul laugh that way, too," she said, baring her
+pretty teeth. "What amuses you? Did the silly old Von-der-Goltz Pasha
+promise you, also, a dish of Eagle?--old Von-der-Goltz with his
+spectacles an inch thick and nothing living within what he carries
+about on his two doddering old legs! There's a German!--who died
+twenty years ago and still walks like a damned man--jingling his iron
+crosses and mumbling his gums! Is it a resurrection from 1870 come to
+foretell another war? And why are these Prussian vultures gathering
+here in Stamboul? Can you tell me, Ferez?--these Prussians in Turkish
+uniforms! Is there anything dying or dead here, that these buzzards
+appear from the sky and alight? Why do they crowd and huddle in a
+circle around Constantinople? Is there something dead in Persia? Is
+the Bagdad railroad dying? Is Enver Bey at his last gasp? Is Talaat?
+Or perhaps the savoury odour comes from the Yildiz----"
+
+"Nihla! Is there nothing sacred--nothing thou fearest on earth?"
+
+"Only old age--and thy smile, my Ferez. Neither agrees with me." She
+stretched her arms lazily.
+
+"Allons," she said, stifling a pleasant yawn with one slim hand,"--my
+maid will wake below and miss me; and then the dogs of Stamboul yonder
+will hear a solo such as they never heard before.... Tell me, Ferez,
+do you know when we are to weigh anchor?"
+
+"At sunrise."
+
+"It is the same to me,"--she yawned again--"my maid is aboard and all
+my luggage. And my Ferez, also.... Mon dieu! And what will Cyril have
+to say when he arrives to find me vanished! It is, perhaps, well for
+us that we shall be at sea!"
+
+Her quick laughter pealed; she turned with a careless gesture of
+salute, friendly and contemptuous; and her white bernous faded away in
+the moonlit fog.
+
+And Ferez Bey stood staring after her out of his near-set, beady eyes,
+loving her, desiring her, fearing her, unrepentant that he had sold
+her, wondering whether the day might dawn when he would find it best
+to kill her for the prosperity and peace of mind of the only living
+being in whose service he never tired--himself.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+A SHADOW DANCE
+
+
+Three years later Destiny still wore a rosy face for Nihla Quellen.
+And, for a young American of whom Nihla had never even heard, Destiny
+still remained the laughing jade he had always known, beckoning him
+ever nearer, with the coquettish promise of her curved forefinger, to
+fame and wealth immeasurable.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seated now on a moonlit lawn, before his sketching easel, this
+optimistic young man, whose name was Barres, continued to observe the
+movements of a dim white figure which had emerged from the villa
+opposite, and was now stealing toward him across the dew-drenched
+grass.
+
+When the white figure was quite near it halted, holding up filmy
+skirts and peering intently at him.
+
+"May one look?" she inquired, in that now celebrated voice of hers,
+through which ever seemed to sound a hint of hidden laughter.
+
+"Certainly," he replied, rising from his folding camp stool.
+
+She tiptoed over the wet grass, came up beside him, gazed down at the
+canvas on his easel.
+
+"Can you really see to paint? Is the moon bright enough?" she asked.
+
+"Yes. But one has to be familiar with one's palette."
+
+"Oh. You seem to know yours quite perfectly, monsieur."
+
+"Enough to mix colours properly."
+
+"I didn't realise that painters ever actually painted pictures by
+moonlight."
+
+"It's a sort of hit or miss business, but the notes made are
+interesting," he explained.
+
+"What do you do with these moonlight studies?"
+
+"Use them as notes in the studio when a moonlight picture is to be
+painted."
+
+"Are you then a realist, monsieur?"
+
+"As much of a realist as anybody with imagination can be," he replied,
+smiling at her charming, moonlit face.
+
+"I understand. Realism is merely honesty plus the imagination of the
+individual."
+
+"A delightful _mot_, madam----"
+
+"Mademoiselle," she corrected him demurely. "Are you English?"
+
+"American."
+
+"Oh. Then may I venture to converse with you in English?" She said it
+in exquisite English, entirely without accent.
+
+"You _are_ English!" he exclaimed under his breath.
+
+"No ... I don't know what I am.... Isn't it charming out here? What
+particular view are you painting?"
+
+"The Seine, yonder."
+
+She bent daintily over his sketch, holding up the skirts of her
+ball-gown.
+
+"Your sketch isn't very far advanced, is it?" she inquired seriously.
+
+"Not very," he smiled.
+
+They stood there together in silence for a while, looking out over
+the moonlit river to the misty, tree-covered heights.
+
+Through lighted rows of open windows in the elaborate little villa
+across the lawn came lively music and the distant noise of animated
+voices.
+
+"Do you know," he ventured smilingly, "that your skirts and slippers
+are soaking wet?"
+
+"I don't care. Isn't this June night heavenly?"
+
+She glanced across at the lighted house. "It's so hot and noisy in
+there; one dances only with discomfort. A distaste for it all sent me
+out on the terrace. Then I walked on the lawn. Then I beheld you!...
+Am I interrupting your work, monsieur? I suppose I am." She looked up
+at him naïvely.
+
+He said something polite. An odd sense of having seen her somewhere
+possessed him now. From the distant house came the noisy American
+music of a two-step. With charming grace, still inspecting him out of
+her dark eyes, the girl began to move her pretty feet in rhythm with
+the music.
+
+"Shall we?" she inquired mischievously.... "Unless you are too
+busy----"
+
+The next moment they were dancing together there on the wet lawn,
+under the high lustre of the moon, her fresh young face and fragrant
+figure close to his.
+
+During their second dance she said serenely:
+
+"They'll raise the dickens if I stay here any longer. Do you know the
+Comte d'Eblis?"
+
+"The Senator? The numismatist?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No, I don't know him. I am only a Latin Quarter student."
+
+"Well, he is giving that party. He is giving it for me--in my honour.
+That is his villa. And I"--she laughed--"am going to marry
+him--_perhaps_! Isn't this a delightful escapade of mine?"
+
+"Isn't it rather an indiscreet one?" he asked smilingly.
+
+"Frightfully. But I like it. How did you happen to pitch your easel on
+his lawn?"
+
+"The river and the hills--their composition appealed to me from here.
+It is the best view of the Seine."
+
+"Are you glad you came?"
+
+They both laughed at the mischievous question.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During their third dance she became a little apprehensive and kept
+looking over her shoulder toward the house.
+
+"There's a man expected there," she whispered, "Ferez Bey. He's as
+soft-footed as a cat and he always prowls in my vicinity. At times it
+almost seems to me as though he were slyly watching me--as though he
+were employed to keep an eye on me."
+
+"A Turk?"
+
+"Eurasian.... I wonder what they think of my absence? Alexandre--the
+Comte d'Eblis--won't like it."
+
+"Had you better go?"
+
+"Yes; I ought to, but I won't.... Wait a moment!" She disengaged
+herself from his arms. "Hide your easel and colour-box in the
+shrubbery, in case anybody comes to look for me."
+
+She helped him strap up and fasten the telescope-easel; they placed
+the paraphernalia behind the blossoming screen of syringa. Then,
+coming together, she gave herself to him again, nestling between his
+arms with a little laugh; and they fell into step once more with the
+distant dance-music. Over the grass their united shadows glided,
+swaying, gracefully interlocked--moon-born phantoms which dogged
+their light young feet....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A man came out on the stone terrace under the Chinese lanterns. When
+they saw him they hastily backed into the obscurity of the shrubbery.
+
+"Nihla!" he called, and his heavy voice was vibrant with irritation
+and impatience.
+
+He was a big man. He walked with a bulky, awkward gait--a few paces
+only, out across the terrace.
+
+"Nihla!" he bawled hoarsely.
+
+Then two other men and a woman appeared on the terrace where the
+lanterns were strung. The woman called aloud in the darkness:
+
+"Nihla! Nihla! Where are you, little devil?" Then she and the two men
+with her went indoors, laughing and skylarking, leaving the bulky man
+there alone.
+
+The young fellow in the shrubbery felt the girl's hand tighten on his
+coat sleeve, felt her slender body quiver with stifled laughter. The
+desire to laugh seized him, too; and they clung there together,
+choking back their mirth while the big man who had first appeared
+waddled out across the lawn toward the shrubbery, shouting:
+
+"Nihla! Where are you then?" He came quite close to where they stood,
+then turned, shouted once or twice and presently disappeared across
+the lawn toward a walled garden. Later, several other people came out
+on the terrace, calling, "Nihla, Nihla," and then went indoors,
+laughing boisterously.
+
+The young fellow and the girl beside him were now quite weak and
+trembling with suppressed mirth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They had not dared venture out on the lawn, although dance music had
+begun again.
+
+"Is it your name they called?" he asked, his eyes very intent upon her
+face.
+
+"Yes, Nihla."
+
+"I recognise you now," he said, with a little thrill of wonder.
+
+"I suppose so," she replied with amiable indifference. "Everybody
+knows me."
+
+She did not ask his name; he did not offer to enlighten her. What
+difference, after all, could the name of an American student make to
+the idol of Europe, Nihla Quellen?
+
+"I'm in a mess," she remarked presently. "He will be quite furious
+with me. It is going to be most disagreeable for me to go back into
+that house. He has really an atrocious temper when made ridiculous."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry," he said, sobered by her seriousness.
+
+She laughed:
+
+"Oh, pouf! I really don't care. But perhaps you had better leave me
+now. I've spoiled your moonlight picture, haven't I?"
+
+"But think what you have given me to make amends!" he replied.
+
+She turned and caught his hands in hers with adorable impulsiveness:
+
+"You're a sweet boy--do you know it! We've had a heavenly time,
+haven't we? Do you really think you ought to go--so soon?"
+
+"Don't you think so, Nihla?"
+
+"I don't want you to go. Anyway, there's a train every two hours----"
+
+"I've a canoe down by the landing. I shall paddle back as I came----"
+
+"A canoe!" she exclaimed, enchanted. "Will you take me with you?"
+
+"To Paris?"
+
+"Of course! Will you?"
+
+"In your ball-gown?"
+
+"I'd adore it! Will you?"
+
+"That is an absolutely crazy suggestion," he said.
+
+"I know it. The world is only a big asylum. There's a path to the
+river behind these bushes. Quick--pick up your painting traps----"
+
+"But, Nihla, dear----"
+
+"Oh, please! I'm dying to run away with you!"
+
+"To Paris?" he demanded, still incredulous that the girl really meant
+it.
+
+"Of course! You can get a taxi at the Pont-au-Change and take me home.
+Will you?"
+
+"It would be wonderful, of course----"
+
+"It will be paradise!" she exclaimed, slipping her hand into his.
+"Now, let us run like the dickens!"
+
+In the uncertain moonlight, filtering through the shrubbery, they
+found a hidden path to the river; and they took it together, lightly,
+swiftly, speeding down the slope, all breathless with laughter, along
+the moonlit way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the suburban villa of the Comte d'Eblis a wine-flushed and very
+noisy company danced on, supped at midnight, continued the revel into
+the starlit morning hours. The place was a jungle of confetti.
+
+Their host, restless, mortified, angry, perplexed by turns, was
+becoming obsessed at length with dull premonitions and vaguer alarms.
+
+He waddled out to the lawn several times, still wearing his fancy gilt
+and tissue cap, and called:
+
+"Nihla! Damnation! Answer me, you little fool!"
+
+He went down to the river, where the gaily painted row-boats and punts
+lay, and scanned the silvered flood, tortured by indefinite
+apprehensions. About dawn he started toward the weed-grown, slippery
+river-stairs for the last time, still crowned with his tinsel cap; and
+there in the darkness he found his aged boat-man, fishing for gudgeon
+with a four-cornered net suspended to the end of a bamboo pole.
+
+"Have you see anything of Mademoiselle Nihla?" he demanded, in a
+heavy, unsteady voice, tremulous with indefinable fears.
+
+"Monsieur le Comte, Mademoiselle Quellen went out in a canoe with a
+young gentleman."
+
+"W-what is that you tell me!" faltered the Comte d'Eblis, turning grey
+in the face.
+
+"Last night, about ten o'clock, M'sieu le Comte. I was out in the
+moonlight fishing for eels. She came down to the shore--took a canoe
+yonder by the willows. The young man had a double-bladed paddle. They
+were singing."
+
+"They--they have not returned?"
+
+"No, M'sieu le Comte----"
+
+"Who was the--man?"
+
+"I could not see----"
+
+"Very well." He turned and looked down the dusky river out of
+light-coloured, murderous eyes. Then, always awkward in his gait, he
+retraced his steps to the house. There a servant accosted him on the
+terrace:
+
+"The telephone, if Monsieur le Comte pleases----"
+
+"Who is calling?" he demanded with a flare of fury.
+
+"Paris, if it pleases Monsieur le Comte."
+
+The Count d'Eblis went to his own quarters, seated himself, and picked
+up the receiver:
+
+"Who is it?" he asked thickly.
+
+"Max Freund."
+
+"What has h-happened?" he stammered in sudden terror.
+
+Over the wire came the distant reply, perfectly clear and distinct:
+
+"Ferez Bey was arrested in his own house at dinner last evening, and
+was immediately conducted to the frontier, escorted by Government
+detectives.... Is Nihla with you?"
+
+The Count's teeth were chattering now. He managed to say:
+
+"No, I don't know where she is. She was dancing. Then, all at once,
+she was gone. Of what was Colonel Ferez suspected?"
+
+"I don't know. But perhaps we might guess."
+
+"Are _you_ followed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"By--by whom?"
+
+"By Souchez.... Good-bye, if I don't see you. I join Ferez. And look
+out for Nihla. She'll trick you yet!"
+
+The Count d'Eblis called:
+
+"Wait, for God's sake, Max!"--listened; called again in vain. "The
+one-eyed rabbit!" he panted, breathing hard and irregularly. His large
+hand shook as he replaced the instrument. He sat there as though
+paralysed, for a moment or two. Mechanically he removed his tinsel cap
+and thrust it into the pocket of his evening coat. Suddenly the dull
+hue of anger dyed neck, ears and temple:
+
+"By God!" he gasped. "What is that she-devil trying to do to me? What
+has she _done_!"
+
+After another moment of staring fixedly at nothing, he opened the
+table drawer, picked up a pistol and poked it into his breast pocket.
+
+Then he rose, heavily, and stood looking out of the window at the
+paling east, his pendulous under lip aquiver.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+SUNRISE
+
+
+The first sunbeams had already gilded her bedroom windows, barring the
+drawn curtains with light, when the man arrived. He was still wearing
+his disordered evening dress under a light overcoat; his soiled shirt
+front was still crossed by the red ribbon of watered silk; third class
+orders striped his breast, where also the brand new Turkish sunburst
+glimmered.
+
+A sleepy maid in night attire answered his furious ringing; the man
+pushed her aside with an oath and strode into the semi-darkness of the
+corridor. He was nearly six feet tall, bulky; but his legs were either
+too short or something else was the matter with them, for when he
+walked he waddled, breathing noisily from the ascent of the stairs.
+
+"Is your mistress here?" he demanded, hoarse with his effort.
+
+"Y--yes, monsieur----"
+
+"When did she come in?" And, as the scared and bewildered maid
+hesitated: "Damn you, answer me! When did Mademoiselle Quellen come
+in? I'll wring your neck if you lie to me!"
+
+The maid began to whimper:
+
+"Monsieur le Comte--I do not wish to lie to you.... Mademoiselle Nihla
+came back with the dawn----"
+
+"Alone?"
+
+The maid wrung her hands:
+
+"Does Monsieur le Comte m-mean to harm her?"
+
+"Will you answer me, you snivelling cat!" he panted between his big,
+discoloured teeth. He had fished out a pistol from his breast pocket,
+dragging with it a silk handkerchief, a fancy cap of tissue and gilt,
+and some streamers of confetti which fell to the carpet around his
+feet.
+
+"Now," he breathed in a half-strangled voice, "answer my questions.
+Was she alone when she came in?"
+
+"N-no."
+
+"Who was with her?"
+
+"A--a----"
+
+"A man?"
+
+The maid trembled violently and nodded.
+
+"What man?"
+
+"M-Monsieur le Comte, I have never before beheld him----"
+
+"You lie!"
+
+"I do not lie! I have never before seen him, Monsieur le----"
+
+"Did you learn his name?"
+
+"No----"
+
+"Did you hear what they said?"
+
+"They spoke in English----"
+
+"What!" The man's puffy face went flabby white, and his big, badly
+made frame seemed to sag for a moment. He laid a large fat hand flat
+against the wall, as though to support and steady himself, and gazed
+dully at the terrified maid.
+
+And she, shivering in her night-robe and naked feet, stared back into
+the pallid face, with its coarse, greyish moustache and little short
+side-whiskers which vulgarized it completely--gazed in unfeigned
+terror at the sagging, deadly, lead-coloured eyes.
+
+"Is the man there--in there now--with her?" demanded the Comte d'Eblis
+heavily.
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+"Gone?"
+
+"Oh, Monsieur le Comte, the young man stayed but a moment----"
+
+"Where were they? In her bedroom?"
+
+"In the salon. I--I served a pâté--a glass of wine--and the young
+gentleman was gone the next minute----"
+
+A dull red discoloured the neck and features of the Count.
+
+"That's enough," he said; and waddled past her along the corridor to
+the furthest door; and wrenched it open with one powerful jerk.
+
+In the still, golden gloom of the drawn curtains, now striped with
+sunlight, a young girl suddenly sat up in bed.
+
+"Alexandre!" she exclaimed in angry astonishment.
+
+"You slut!" he said, already enraged again at the mere sight of her.
+"Where did you go last night!"
+
+"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she demanded, confused but flushed
+with anger. "Leave it! Do you hear!--" She caught sight of the pistol
+in his hand and stiffened.
+
+He stepped nearer; her dark, dilated gaze remained fixed on the
+pistol.
+
+"Answer me," he said, the menacing roar rising in his voice. "Where
+did you go last night when you left the house?"
+
+"I--I went out--on the lawn."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I had had enough of your party: I came back to Paris."
+
+"And _then_?"
+
+"I came here, of course."
+
+"Who was with you?"
+
+Then, for the first time, she began to comprehend. She swallowed
+desperately.
+
+"Who was your companion?" he repeated.
+
+"A--man."
+
+"You brought him here?"
+
+"He--came in--for a moment."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"I--never before saw him."
+
+"You picked up a man in the street and brought him here with you?"
+
+"N-not on the street----"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"On the lawn--while your guests were dancing----"
+
+"And you came to Paris with him?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"I don't know----"
+
+"If you don't name him, I'll kill you!" he yelled, losing the last
+vestige of self-control. "What kind of story are you trying to tell
+me, you lying drab! You've got a lover! Confess it!"
+
+"I have not!"
+
+"Liar! So this is how you've laughed at me, mocked me, betrayed me,
+made a fool of me! You!--with your fierce little snappish ways of a
+virgin! You with your dangerous airs of a tiger-cat if a man so much
+as laid a finger on your vicious body! So Mademoiselle-Don't-touch-me
+had a lover all the while. Max Freund warned me to keep an eye on
+you!" He lost control of himself again; his voice became a hoarse
+shout: "Max Freund begged me not to trust you! You filthy little
+beast! Good God! Was I crazy to believe in you--to talk without
+reserve in your presence! What kind of imbecile was I to offer you
+marriage because I was crazy enough to believe that there was no other
+way to possess you! You--a Levantine dancing girl--a common painted
+thing of the public footlights--a creature of brasserie and cabaret!
+And you posed as Mademoiselle Nitouche! A novice! A devotee of
+chastity! And, by God, your devilish ingenuity at last persuaded me
+that you actually were what you said you were. And all Paris knew you
+were fooling me--all Paris was laughing in its dirty sleeve--mocking
+me--spitting on me----"
+
+"All Paris," she said, in an unsteady voice, "gave you credit for
+being my lover. And I endured it. And you knew it was not true. Yet
+you never denied it.... But as for me, I never had a lover. When I
+told you that I told you the truth. And it is true to-day as it was
+yesterday. Nobody believes it of a dancing girl. Now, _you_ no longer
+believe it. Very well, there is no occasion for melodrama. I tried to
+fall in love with you: I couldn't. I did not desire to marry you. You
+insisted. Very well; you can go."
+
+"Not before I learn the name of your lover of last night!" he
+retorted, now almost beside himself with fury, and once more menacing
+her with his pistol. "I'll get that much change out of all the money
+I've lavished on you!" he yelled. "Tell me his name or I'll kill
+you!"
+
+She reached under her pillow, clutched a jewelled watch and purse, and
+hurled them at him. She twisted from her arm a gemmed bracelet, tore
+every flashing ring from her fingers, and flung them in a handful
+straight at his head.
+
+"There's some more change for you!" she panted. "Now, leave my
+bedroom!"
+
+"I'll have that man's name first!"
+
+The girl laughed in his distorted face. He was within an ace of
+shooting her--of firing point-blank into the lovely, flushed features,
+merely to shatter them, destroy, annihilate. He had the desire to do
+it. But her breathless, contemptuous laugh broke that impulse--relaxed
+it, leaving it flaccid. And after an interval something else
+intervened to stay his hand at the trigger--something that crept into
+his mind; something he had begun to suspect that she knew. Suddenly he
+became convinced that she _did_ know it--that she believed that he
+dared not kill her and stand the investigation of a public trial
+before a _juge d'instruction_--that he could not afford to have his
+own personal affairs scrutinised too closely.
+
+He still wanted to kill her--shoot her there where she sat in bed,
+watching him out of scornful young eyes. So intense was his need to
+slay--to disfigure, brutalise this girl who had mocked him, that the
+raging desire hurt him physically. He leaned back, resting against the
+silken wall, momentarily weakened by the violence of passion. But his
+pistol still threatened her.
+
+No; he dared not. There was a better, surer way to utterly destroy
+her,--a way he had long ago prepared,--not expecting any such
+contingency as this, but merely as a matter of self-insurance.
+
+His levelled weapon wavered, dropped, held loosely now. He still
+glared at her out of pallid and blood-shot eyes in silence. After a
+while:
+
+"You hell-cat," he said slowly and distinctly. "Who is your English
+lover? Tell me his name or I'll beat your face to a pulp!"
+
+"I have no English lover."
+
+"Do you think," he went on heavily, disregarding her reply, "that I
+don't know why you chose an Englishman? You thought you could
+blackmail me, didn't you?"
+
+"How?" she demanded wearily.
+
+Again he ignored her reply:
+
+"Is he one of the Embassy?" he demanded. "Is he some emissary of
+Grey's? Does he come from their intelligence department? Or is he only
+a police jackal? Or some lesser rat?"
+
+She shrugged; her night-robe slipped and she drew it over her shoulder
+with a quick movement. And the man saw the deep blush spreading over
+face and throat.
+
+"By God!" he said, "you _are_ an actress! I admit it. But now you are
+going to learn something about real life. You think you've got me,
+don't you?--you and your Englishman? Because I have been fool enough
+to trust you--hide nothing from you--act frankly and openly in your
+presence. You thought you'd get a hold on me, so that if I ever caught
+you at your treacherous game you could defy me and extort from me the
+last penny! You thought all that out--very thriftily and cleverly--you
+and your Englishman between you--didn't you?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Don't you? Then why did you ask me the other day whether it was not
+German money which was paying for the newspaper which I bought?"
+
+"The _Mot d'Ordre_?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I asked you that because Ferez Bey is notoriously in Germany's pay.
+And Ferez Bey financed the affair. You said so. Besides, you and he
+discussed it before me in my own salon."
+
+"And you suspected that I bought the _Mot d'Ordre_ with German money
+for the purpose of carrying out German propaganda in a Paris daily
+paper?"
+
+"I don't know why Ferez Bey gave you the money to buy it."
+
+"He did not give me the money."
+
+"You said so. Who did?"
+
+"_You!_" he fairly yelled.
+
+"W-what!" stammered the girl, confounded.
+
+"Listen to me, you rat!" he said fiercely. "I was not such a fool as
+you believed me to be. I lavished money on you; you made a fortune for
+yourself out of your popularity, too. Do you remember endorsing a
+cheque drawn to your order by Ferez Bey?"
+
+"Yes. You had borrowed every penny I possessed. You said that Ferez
+Bey owed you as much. So I accepted his cheque----"
+
+"That cheque paid for the _Mot d'Ordre_. It is drawn to your order;
+it bears your endorsement; the _Mot d'Ordre_ was purchased in your
+name. And it was Max Freund who insisted that I take that precaution.
+Now, try to blackmail me!--you and your English spy!" he cried
+triumphantly, his voice breaking into a squeak.
+
+Not yet understanding, merely conscious of some vague and monstrous
+danger, the girl sat motionless, regarding him intently out of
+beautiful, intelligent eyes.
+
+He burst into laughter, made falsetto by the hysteria of sheer
+hatred:
+
+"That's where you are now!" he said, leering down at her. "Every paper
+I ever made you sign incriminates you; your cancelled cheque is in the
+same packet; your _dossier_ is damning and complete. You didn't know
+that Ferez Bey was sent across the frontier yesterday, did you? Your
+English spy didn't inform you last night, did he?"
+
+"N-no."
+
+"You lie! You _did_ know it! That was why you stole away last night
+and met your jackal--to sell him something besides yourself, this
+time! You knew they had arrested Ferez! I don't know how you knew it,
+but you did. And you told your lover. And both of you thought you had
+me at last, didn't you?"
+
+"I--what are you trying to say to me--do to me?" she stammered, losing
+colour for the first time.
+
+"Put you where you belong--you dirty spy!" he said with grinning
+ferocity. "If there is to be trouble, I've prepared for it. When they
+try you for espionage, they'll try you as a foreigner--a dancing girl
+in the pay of Germany--as my mistress whom Max Freund and I discover
+in treachery to France, and whom I instantly denounce to the proper
+authorities!"
+
+He shoved his pistol into his breast pocket and put on his marred silk
+hat.
+
+"Which do you think they will believe--you or the Count d'Eblis?" he
+demanded, the nervous leer twitching at his heavy lips. "Which do you
+think they will believe--your denials and counter-accusations against
+me, or Max Freund's corroboration, and the evidence of the packet I
+shall now deliver to the authorities--the packet containing every
+cursed document necessary to convict you!--you filthy little----"
+
+The girl bounded from her bed to the floor, her dark eyes blazing:
+
+"Damn you!" she said. "Get out of my bedroom!"
+
+Taken aback, he retreated a pace or two, and, at the furious menace of
+the little clenched fist, stepped another pace out into the corridor.
+The door crashed in his face; the bolt shot home.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In twenty minutes Nihla Quellen, the celebrated and adored of European
+capitals, crept out of the street door. She wore the dress of a
+Finistère peasant; her hair was grey, her step infirm.
+
+The _commissaire_, two _agents de police_, and a Government detective,
+one Souchez, already on their way to identify and arrest her, never
+even glanced at the shabby, infirm figure which hobbled past them on
+the sidewalk and feebly mounted an omnibus marked Gare du Nord.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a long time Paris was carefully combed for the dancer, Nihla
+Quellen, until more serious affairs occupied the authorities, and
+presently the world at large. For, in a few weeks, war burst like a
+clap of thunder over Europe, leaving the whole world stunned and
+reeling. The dossier of Nihla Quellen, the dancing girl, was tossed
+into secret archives, together with the dossier of one Ferez Bey, an
+Eurasian, now far beyond French jurisdiction, and already very
+industrious in the United States about God knows what, in company with
+one Max Freund.
+
+As for Monsieur the Count d'Eblis, he remained a senator, an owner of
+many third-rate decorations, and of the _Mot d'Ordre_.
+
+And he remained on excellent terms with everybody at the Swedish,
+Greek, and Bulgarian legations, and the Turkish Embassy, too. And
+continued in cipher communication with Max Freund and Ferez Bey in
+America.
+
+Otherwise, he was still president of the Numismatic Society of Spain,
+and he continued to add to his wonderful collection of coins, and to
+keep up his voluminous numismatic correspondence.
+
+He was growing stouter, too, which increased his spinal waddle when he
+walked; and he became very prosperous financially, through fortunate
+"operations," as he explained, with one Bolo Pasha.
+
+He had only one regret to interfere with his sleep and his digestion;
+he was sorry he had not fired his pistol into the youthful face of
+Nihla Quellen. He should have avenged himself, taken his chances, and
+above everything else he should have destroyed her beauty. His
+timidity and caution still caused him deep and bitter chagrin.
+
+For nearly a year he heard absolutely nothing concerning her. Then one
+day a letter arrived from Ferez Bey through Max Freund, both being in
+New York. And when, using his key to the cipher, he extracted the
+message it contained, he had learned, among other things, that Nihla
+Quellen was in New York, employed as a teacher in a school for
+dancing.
+
+The gist of his reply to Ferez Bey was that Nihla Quellen had already
+outlived her usefulness on earth, and that Max Freund should attend to
+the matter at the first favourable opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+SUNSET
+
+
+On the edge of evening she came out of the Palace of Mirrors and
+crossed the wet asphalt, which already reflected primrose lights from
+a clearing western sky.
+
+A few moments before, he had been thinking of her, never dreaming that
+she was in America. But he knew her instantly, there amid the rush and
+clatter of the street, recognised her even in the twilight of the
+passing storm--perhaps not alone from the half-caught glimpse of her
+shadowy, averted face, nor even from that young, lissome figure so
+celebrated in Europe. There is a sixth sense--the sense of nearness to
+what is familiar. When it awakes we call it premonition.
+
+The shock of seeing her, the moment's exciting incredulity, passed
+before he became aware that he was already following her through
+swarming metropolitan throngs released from the toil of a long, wet
+day in early spring.
+
+Through every twilit avenue poured the crowds; through every
+cross-street a rosy glory from the west was streaming; and in its
+magic he saw her immortally transfigured, where the pink light
+suffused the crossings, only to put on again her lovely mortality in
+the shadowy avenue.
+
+At Times Square she turned west, straight into the dazzling fire of
+sunset, and he at her slender heels, not knowing why, not even asking
+it of himself, not thinking, not caring.
+
+A third figure followed them both.
+
+The bronze giants south of them stirred, swung their great hammers
+against the iron bell; strokes of the hour rang out above the din of
+Herald Square, inaudible in the traffic roar another square away,
+lost, drowned out long before the pleasant bell-notes penetrated to
+Forty-second Street, into which they both had turned.
+
+Yet, as though occultly conscious that some hour had struck on earth,
+significant to her, she stopped, turned, and looked back--looked quite
+through him, seeing neither him nor the one-eyed man who followed them
+both--as though her line of vision were the East itself, where, across
+the grey sea's peril, a thousand miles of cannon were sounding the
+hour from the North Sea to the Alps.
+
+He passed her at her very elbow--aware of her nearness, as though
+suddenly close to a young orchard in April. The girl, too, resumed her
+way, unconscious of him, of his youthful face set hard with controlled
+emotion.
+
+The one-eyed man followed them both.
+
+A few steps further and she turned into the entrance to one of those
+sprawling, pretentious restaurants, the sham magnificence of which
+becomes grimy overnight. He halted, swung around, retraced his steps
+and followed her. And at his heels two shapes followed them very
+silently--her shadow and his own--so close together now, against the
+stucco wall that they seemed like Destiny and Fate linked arm in arm.
+
+The one-eyed man halted at the door for a few moments. Then he, too,
+went in, dogged by his sinister shadow.
+
+The red sunset's rays penetrated to the rotunda and were quenched
+there in a flood of artificial light; and there their sun-born
+shadows vanished, and three strange new shadows, twisted and
+grotesque, took their places.
+
+She continued on into the almost empty restaurant, looming dimly
+beyond. He followed; the one-eyed man followed both.
+
+The place into which they stepped was circular, centred by a waterfall
+splashing over concrete rocks. In the ruffled pool goldfish glimmered,
+nearly motionless, and mandarin ducks floated, preening exotic
+plumage.
+
+A wilderness of tables surrounded the pool, set for the expected
+patronage of the coming evening. The girl seated herself at one of
+these.
+
+At the next table he found a place for himself, entirely unnoticed by
+her. The one-eyed man took the table behind them. A waiter presented
+himself to take her order; another waiter came up leisurely to attend
+to him. A third served the one-eyed man. There were only a few inches
+between the three tables. Yet the girl, deeply preoccupied, paid no
+attention to either man, although both kept their eyes on her.
+
+But already, under the younger man's spellbound eyes, an odd and
+unforeseen thing was occurring: he gradually became aware that, almost
+imperceptibly, the girl and the table where she sat, and the sleepy
+waiter who was taking her orders, were slowly moving nearer to him on
+a floor which was moving, too.
+
+He had never before been in that particular restaurant, and it took
+him a moment or two to realise that the floor was one of those trick
+floors, the central part of which slowly revolves.
+
+Her table stood on the revolving part of the floor, his upon fixed
+terrain; and he now beheld her moving toward him, as the circle of
+tables rotated on its axis, which was the waterfall and pool in the
+middle of the restaurant.
+
+A few people began to arrive--theatrical people, who are obliged to
+dine early. Some took seats at tables placed upon the revolving
+section of the floor, others preferred the outer circles, where he sat
+in a fixed position.
+
+Her table was already abreast of his, with only the circular crack in
+the floor between them; he could easily have touched her.
+
+As the distance began to widen between them, the girl, her gloved
+hands clasped in her lap, and studying the table-cloth with unseeing
+gaze, lifted her dark eyes--looked at him without seeing, and once
+more gazed through him at something invisible upon which her thoughts
+remained fixed--something absorbing, vital, perhaps tragic--for her
+face had become as colourless, now, as one of those translucent
+marbles, vaguely warmed by some buried vein of rose beneath the snowy
+surface.
+
+Slowly she was being swept away from him--his gaze following--hers
+lost in concentrated abstraction.
+
+He saw her slipping away, disappearing behind the noisy waterfall.
+Around him the restaurant continued to fill, slowly at first, then
+more rapidly after the orchestra had entered its marble gallery.
+
+The music began with something Russian, plaintive at first, then
+beguiling, then noisy, savage in its brutal precision--something
+sinister--a trampling melody that was turning into thunder with the
+throb of doom all through it. And out of the vicious, Asiatic
+clangour, from behind the dash of too obvious waterfalls, glided the
+girl he had followed, now on her way toward him again, still seated at
+her table, still gazing at nothing out of dark, unseeing eyes.
+
+It seemed to him an hour before her table approached his own again.
+Already she had been served by a waiter--was eating.
+
+He became aware, then, that somebody had also served him. But he could
+not even pretend to eat, so preoccupied was he by her approach.
+
+Scarcely seeming to move at all, the revolving floor was steadily
+drawing her table closer and closer to his. She was not looking at the
+strawberries which she was leisurely eating--did not lift her eyes as
+her table swept smoothly abreast of his.
+
+Scarcely aware that he spoke aloud, he said:
+
+"Nihla--Nihla Quellen!..."
+
+Like a flash the girl wheeled in her chair to face him. She had lost
+all her colour. Her fork had dropped and a blood-red berry rolled over
+the table-cloth toward him.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said, flushing. "I did not mean to startle you----"
+
+The girl did not utter a word, nor did she move; but in her dark eyes
+he seemed to see her every sense concentrated upon him to identify his
+features, made shadowy by the lighted candles behind his head.
+
+By degrees, smoothly, silently, her table swept nearer, nearer,
+bringing with it her chair, her slender person, her dark, intelligent
+eyes, so unsmilingly and steadily intent on him.
+
+He began to stammer:
+
+"--Two years ago--at--the Villa Tresse d'Or--on the Seine.... And we
+promised to see each other--in the morning----"
+
+She said coolly:
+
+"My name is Thessalie Dunois. You mistake me for another."
+
+"No," he said, in a low voice, "I am not mistaken."
+
+Her brown eyes seemed to plunge their clear regard into the depths of
+his very soul--not in recognition, but in watchful, dangerous
+defiance.
+
+He began again, still stammering a trifle:
+
+"--In the morning, we were to--to meet--at eleven--near the fountain
+of Marie de Médicis--unless you do not care to remember----"
+
+At that her gaze altered swiftly, melted into the exquisite relief of
+recognition. Suspended breath, released, parted her blanched lips; her
+little guardian heart, relieved of fear, beat more freely.
+
+"Are you Garry?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I know you now," she murmured. "You are Garret Barres, of the rue
+d'Eryx.... You _are_ Garry!" A smile already haunted her dark young
+eyes; colour was returning to lip and cheek. She drew a deep,
+noiseless breath.
+
+The table where she sat continued to slip past him; the distance
+between them was widening. She had to turn her head a little to face
+him.
+
+"You do remember me then, Nihla?"
+
+The girl inclined her head a trifle. A smile curved her lips--lips now
+vivid but still a little tremulous from the shock of the encounter.
+
+"May I join you at your table?"
+
+She smiled, drew a deeper breath, looked down at the strawberry on the
+cloth, looked over her shoulder at him.
+
+"You owe me an explanation," he insisted, leaning forward to span the
+increasing distance between them.
+
+"Do I?"
+
+"Ask yourself."
+
+After a moment, still studying him, she nodded as though the nod
+answered some silent question of her own:
+
+"Yes, I owe you one."
+
+"Then may I join you?"
+
+"My table is more prudent than I. It is running away from an
+explanation." She fixed her eyes on her tightly clasped hands, as
+though to concentrate thought. He could see only the back of her head,
+white neck and lovely dark hair.
+
+Her table was quite a distance away when she turned, leisurely, and
+looked back at him.
+
+"May I come?" he asked.
+
+She lifted her delicate brows in demure surprise.
+
+"I've been waiting for you," she said, amiably.
+
+The one-eyed man had never taken his eyes off them.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+DUSK
+
+
+She had offered him her hand; he had bent over it, seated himself, and
+they smilingly exchanged the formal banalities of a pleasantly renewed
+acquaintance.
+
+A waiter laid a cover for him. She continued to concern herself,
+leisurely, with her strawberries.
+
+"When did you leave Paris?" she enquired.
+
+"Nearly two years ago."
+
+"Before war was declared?"
+
+"Yes, in June of that year."
+
+She looked up at him very seriously; but they both smiled as she
+said:
+
+"It was a momentous month for you then--the month of June, 1914?"
+
+"Very. A charming young girl broke my heart in 1914; and so I came
+home, a wreck--to recuperate."
+
+At that she laughed outright, glancing at his youthful, sunburnt face
+and lean, vigorous figure.
+
+"When did _you_ come over?" he asked curiously.
+
+"I have been here longer than you have. In fact, I left France the day
+I last saw you."
+
+"The same day?"
+
+"I started that very same day--shortly after sunrise. I crossed the
+Belgian frontier that night, and I sailed for New York the morning
+after. I landed here a week later, and I've been here ever since.
+That, monsieur, is my history."
+
+"You've been here in New York for two years!" he repeated in
+astonishment. "Have you really left the stage then? I supposed you had
+just arrived to fill an engagement here."
+
+"They gave me a try-out this afternoon."
+
+"_You?_ A try-out!" he exclaimed, amazed.
+
+She carelessly transfixed a berry with her fork:
+
+"If I secure an engagement I shall be very glad to fill it ... and my
+stomach, also. If I don't secure one--well--charity or starvation
+confronts me."
+
+He smiled at her with easy incredulity.
+
+"I had not heard that you were here!" he repeated. "I've read nothing
+at all about you in the papers----"
+
+"No ... I am here incognito.... I have taken my sister's name. After
+all, your American public does not know me."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Wait! I don't wish it to know me!"
+
+"But if you----"
+
+The girl's slight gesture checked him, although her smile became
+humorous and friendly:
+
+"Please! We need not discuss my future. Only the past!" She laughed:
+"How it all comes back to me now, as you speak--that crazy evening of
+ours together! What children we were--two years ago!"
+
+Smilingly she clasped her hands together on the table's edge,
+regarding him with that winning directness which was a celebrated part
+of her celebrated personality; and happened to be natural to her.
+
+"Why did I not recognise you immediately?" she demanded of herself,
+frowning in self-reproof. "I _am_ stupid! Also I have, now and then,
+thought about you----" She shrugged her shoulders, and again her face
+faltered subtly:
+
+"Much has happened to distract my memories," she added carelessly,
+impaling a strawberry, "--since you and I took the key to the fields
+and the road to the moon--like the pair of irresponsibles we were that
+night in June."
+
+"Have you really had trouble?"
+
+Her slim figure straightened as at a challenge, then became adorably
+supple again; and she rested her elbows on the table's edge and took
+her cheeks between her hands.
+
+"Trouble?" she repeated, studying his face. "I don't know that word,
+trouble. I don't admit such a word to the honour of my happy
+vocabulary."
+
+They both laughed a little.
+
+She said, still looking at him, and at first speaking as though to
+herself:
+
+"Of course, you are that same, delightful Garry! My youthful American
+accomplice!... Quite unspoiled, still, but very, very irresponsible
+... like all painters--like all students. And the mischief which is in
+me recognised the mischief in you, I suppose.... I _did_ surprise you
+that night, didn't I?... And what a night! What a moon! And how we
+danced there on the wet lawn until my skirts and slippers and
+stockings were drenched with dew!... And how we laughed! Oh, that
+full-hearted, full-throated laughter of ours! How wonderful that we
+have lived to laugh like that! It is something to remember after
+death. Just think of it!--you and I, absolute strangers, dancing every
+dance there in the drenched grass to the music that came through the
+open windows.... And do you remember how we hid in the flowering
+bushes when my sister and the others came out to look for me? How they
+called, 'Nihla! Nihla! Little devil, where are you?' Oh, it was
+funny--funny! And to see _him_ come out on the lawn--do you remember?
+He looked so fat and stupid and anxious and bad-tempered! And you and
+I expiring with stifled laughter! And he, with his sash, his
+decorations and his academic palms! He'd have shot us both, you
+know...."
+
+They were laughing unrestrainedly now at the memory of that impossible
+night a year ago; and the girl seemed suddenly transformed into an
+irresponsible gamine of eighteen. Her eyes grew brighter with mischief
+and laughter--laughter, the greatest magician and doctor emeritus of
+them all! The immortal restorer of youth and beauty.
+
+Bluish shadows had gone from under her lower lashes; her eyes were
+starry as a child's.
+
+"Oh, Garry," she gasped, laying one slim hand across his on the
+table-cloth, "it was one of those encounters--one of those heavenly
+accidents that reconcile one to living.... I think the moon had made
+me a perfect lunatic.... Because you don't yet know what I risked....
+Garry!... It ruined me--ruined me utterly--our night together under
+the June moon!"
+
+"What!" he exclaimed, incredulously.
+
+But she only laughed her gay, undaunted little laugh:
+
+"It was worth it! Such moments are worth anything we pay for them! I
+laughed; I pay. What of it?"
+
+"But if I am partly responsible I wish to know----"
+
+"You shall know nothing about it! As for me, I care nothing about it.
+I'd do it again to-night! That is living--to go forward, laugh, and
+accept what comes--to have heart enough, gaiety enough, brains enough
+to seize the few rare dispensations that the niggardly gods fling
+across this calvary which we call life! _Tenez_, that alone is living;
+the rest is making the endless stations on bleeding knees."
+
+"Yet, if I thought--" he began, perplexed and troubled, "--if I
+thought that through my folly----"
+
+"Folly! _Non pas!_ Wisdom! Oh, my blessed accomplice! And do you
+remember the canoe? Were we indeed quite mad to embark for Paris on
+the moonlit Seine, you and I?--I in evening gown, soaked with dew to
+the knees!--you with your sketching block and easel! _Quelle
+déménagement en famille!_ Oh, Garry, my friend of gayer days, was that
+really folly! No, no, no, it was infinite wisdom; and its memory is
+helping me to live through this very moment!"
+
+She leaned there on her elbows and laughed across the cloth at him.
+The mockery began to dance again and glimmer in her eyes:
+
+"After all I've told you," she added, "you are no wiser, are you?
+You don't know why I never went to the Fountain of Marie de
+Médicis--whether I forgot to go--whether I remembered but decided that
+I had had quite enough of you. You don't know, do you?"
+
+He shook his head, smiling. The girl's face grew gradually serious:
+
+"And you never heard anything more about me?" she demanded.
+
+"No. Your name simply disappeared from the billboards, kiosques, and
+newspapers."
+
+"And you heard no malicious gossip? None about my sister, either?"
+
+"None."
+
+She nodded:
+
+"Europe is a senile creature which forgets overnight. _Tant mieux_....
+You know, I shall sing and dance under my sister's name here. I told
+you that, didn't I?"
+
+"Oh! That would be a great mistake----"
+
+"Listen! Nihla Quellen disappeared--married some fat bourgeois, died,
+perhaps,"--she shrugged,--"anything you wish, my friend. Who cares to
+listen to what is said about a dancing girl in all this din of war?
+Who is interested?"
+
+It was scarcely a question, yet her eyes seemed to make it so.
+
+"Who cares?" she repeated impatiently. "Who remembers?"
+
+"I have remembered you," he said, meeting her intently questioning
+gaze.
+
+"You? Oh, you are not like those others over there. Your country is
+not at war. You still have leisure to remember. But they forget. They
+haven't time to remember anything--anybody--over there. Don't you
+think so?" She turned in her chair unconsciously, and gazed eastward.
+"--They have forgotten me over there--" And her lips tightened,
+contracted, bitten into silence.
+
+The strange beauty of the girl left him dumb. He was recalling, now,
+all that he had ever heard concerning her. The gossip of Europe had
+informed him that, though Nihla Quellen was passionately and devotedly
+French in soul and heart, her mother had been one of those unmoral and
+lovely Georgians, and her father an Alsatian, named Dunois--a French
+officer who entered the Russian service ultimately, and became a
+hunting cheetah for the Grand Duke Cyril, until himself hunted into
+another world by that old bag of bones on the pale and shaky nag. His
+daughter took the name of Nihla Quellen and what money was left, and
+made her début in Constantinople.
+
+As the young fellow sat there watching her, all the petty gossip of
+Europe came back to him--anecdotes, panegyrics, eulogies, scandals,
+stage chatter, Quarter "divers," paid réclames--all that he had ever
+read and heard about this notorious young girl, now seated there
+across the table, with her pretty head framed by slender, unjewelled
+fingers. He remembered the gems she had worn that June night, a year
+ago, and their magnificence.
+
+"Well," she said, "life is a pleasantry, a jest, a bon-mot flung over
+his shoulder by some god too drunk with nectar to invent a better
+joke. Life is an Olympian epigram made between immortal yawns. What do
+you think of _my_ epigram, Garry?"
+
+"I think you are just as clever and amusing as I remember you,
+Nihla."
+
+"Amusing to _you_, perhaps. But I don't entertain myself very
+successfully. I don't think poverty is a very funny joke. Do you?"
+
+"Poverty!" he repeated, smiling his unbelief.
+
+She smiled too, displayed her pretty, ringless hands humorously, for
+his inspection, then framed her oval face between them again and made
+a deliberate grimace.
+
+"All gone," she said. "I am, as you say, here on my uppers."
+
+"I can't understand, Nihla----"
+
+"Don't try to. It doesn't concern you. Also, please forget me as Nihla
+Quellen. I told you that I've taken my sister's name, Thessalie
+Dunois."
+
+"But all Europe knows you as Nihla Quellen----"
+
+"Listen!" she interrupted sharply. "I have troubles enough. Don't add
+to them, or I shall be sorry I met you again. I tell you my name is
+Thessa. Please remember it."
+
+"Very well," he said, reddening under the rebuke.
+
+She noted the painful colour in his face, then looked elsewhere,
+indifferently. Her features remained expressionless for a while. After
+a few moments she looked around at him again, and her smile began to
+glimmer:
+
+"It's only this," she said; "the girl you met once in your life--the
+dancing singing-girl they knew over there--is already an episode to be
+forgotten. End her career any way you wish, Garry,--natural death,
+suicide--or she can repent and take the veil, if you like--or perish
+at sea--only end her.... Please?" she added, with the sweet, trailing
+inflection characteristic of her.
+
+He nodded. The girl smiled mischievously.
+
+"Don't nod your head so owlishly and pretend to understand. You don't
+understand. Only two or three people do. And I hope they'll believe me
+dead, even if you are not polite enough to agree with them."
+
+"How can you expect to maintain your incognito?" he insisted. "There
+will be plenty of people in your very first audience----"
+
+"I had a sister, did I not?"
+
+"_Was_ she your sister?--the one who danced with you--the one called
+Thessa?"
+
+"No. But the play-bills said she was. Now, I've told you something
+that nobody knows except two or three unpleasant devils--" She dropped
+her arms on the table and leaned a trifle forward:
+
+"Oh, pouf!" she said. "Don't let's be mysterious and dramatic, you and
+I. I'll tell you: I gave that woman the last of my jewels and she
+promised to disappear and leave her name to me to use. It was my own
+name, anyway, Thessalie Dunois. Now, you know. Be as discreet and nice
+as I once found you. Will you?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"'Of course,'" she repeated, smiling, and with a little twitch of her
+shoulders, as though letting fall a burdensome cloak. "Allons! With a
+free heart, then! I am Thessalie Dunois; I am here; I am poor--don't
+be frightened! I shall not borrow----"
+
+"That's rotten, Thessa!" he said, turning very red.
+
+"Oh, go lightly, please, my friend Garry. I have no claim on you.
+Besides, I know men----"
+
+"You don't appear to!"
+
+"Tiens! Our first quarrel!" she exclaimed, laughingly. "This is indeed
+serious----"
+
+"If you need aid----"
+
+"No, I don't! Please, why do you scowl at me? Do you then wish I
+needed aid? Yours? Allez, Monsieur Garry, if I did I'd venture,
+perhaps, to say so to you. Does that make amends?" she added sweetly.
+
+She clasped her white hands on the cloth and looked at him with that
+engaging, humorous little air which had so easily captivated her
+audiences in Europe--that, and her voice with the hint of recklessness
+ever echoing through its sweetness and youthful gaiety.
+
+"What are you doing in New York?" she asked. "Painting?"
+
+"I have a studio, but----"
+
+"But no clients? Is that it? Pouf! Everybody begins that way. I sang
+in a café at Dijon for five francs and my soup! At Rennes I nearly
+starved. Oh, yes, Garry, in spite of a number of obliging gentlemen
+who, like you, offered--first aid----"
+
+"That is absolutely rotten of you, Thessa. Did I ever----"
+
+"No! For goodness' sake let me jest with you without flying into
+tempers!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Oh, pouf! I shall not quarrel with you! Whatever you and I were going
+to say during the next ten minutes shall remain unsaid!... Now, the
+ten minutes are over; now, we're reconciled and you are in good humour
+again. And now, tell me about yourself, your painting--in other
+words, tell me the things about yourself that would interest a
+friend."
+
+"Are you?"
+
+"Your friend? Yes, I am--if you wish."
+
+"I do wish it."
+
+"Then I am your friend. I once had a wonderful evening with you....
+I'm having a very good time now. You were _nice_ to me, Garry. I
+really was sorry not to see you again."
+
+"At the fountain of Marie de Médicis," he said reproachfully.
+
+"Yes. Flatter yourself, monsieur, because I did _not_ forget our
+rendezvous. I might have forgotten it easily enough--there was
+sufficient excuse, God knows--a girl awakened by the crash of
+ruin--springing out of bed to face the end of the world without a
+moment's warning--yes, the end of all things--death, too! Tenez, it
+was permissible to forget our rendezvous under such circumstances, was
+it not? But--I did _not_ forget. I thought about it in a dumb, calm
+way all the while--even while _he_ stood there denouncing me,
+threatening me, noisy, furious--with the button of the Legion in his
+lapel--and an ugly pistol which he waved in the air--" She laughed:
+
+"Oh, it was not at all gay, I assure you.... And even when I took to
+my heels after he had gone--for it was a matter of life or death, and
+I hadn't a minute to lose--oh, very dramatic, of course, for I ran
+away in disguise and I had a frightful time of it leaving France!
+Well, even then, at top speed and scared to death, I remembered the
+fountain of Marie de Médicis, and you. Don't be too deeply flattered.
+I remembered these items principally because they had caused my
+downfall."
+
+"I? I caused----"
+
+"No. _I_ caused it! It was I who went out on the lawn. It was I who
+came across to see who was painting by moonlight. That began
+it--seeing you there--in moonlight bright enough to read by--bright
+enough to paint by. Oh, Garry--and you were _so_ good-looking! It was
+the moon--and the way you smiled at me. And they all were dancing
+inside, and _he_ was so big and fat and complacent, dancing away in
+there!... And so I fell a prey to folly."
+
+"Was it really our escapade that--that ruined you?"
+
+"Well--it was partly that. Pouf! It is over. And I am here. So are
+you. It's been nice to see you.... Please call our waiter." She
+glanced at her cheap, leather wrist watch.
+
+As they rose and left the dining-room, he asked her if they were not
+to see each other again. A one-eyed man, close behind them, listened
+for her reply.
+
+She continued to walk on slowly beside him without answering, until
+they reached the rotunda.
+
+"Do you wish to see me again?" she enquired abruptly.
+
+"Don't you also wish it?"
+
+"I don't know, Garry.... I've been annoyed in New
+York--bothered--seriously.... I can't explain, but somehow--I don't
+seem to wish to begin a friendship with anybody...."
+
+"Ours began two years ago."
+
+"Did it?"
+
+"Did it not, Thessa?"
+
+"Perhaps.... I don't know. After all--it doesn't matter. I think--I
+think we had better say good-bye--until some happy hazard--like
+to-day's encounter--" She hesitated, looked up at him, laughed:
+
+"Where is your studio?" she asked mischievously.
+
+The one-eyed man at their heels was listening.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+IN DRAGON COURT
+
+
+There was a young moon in the southwest--a slender tracery in the
+April twilight--curved high over his right shoulder as he walked
+northward and homeward through the flare of Broadway.
+
+His thoughts were still occupied with the pleasant excitement of his
+encounter with Thessalie Dunois; his mind and heart still responded to
+the delightful stimulation. Out of an already half-forgotten realm of
+romance, where, often now, he found it increasingly difficult to
+realise that he had lived for five happy years, a young girl had
+suddenly emerged as bodily witness, to corroborate, revive, and
+refresh his fading faith in the reality of what once had been.
+
+Five years in France!--France with its clear sun and lovely moon; its
+silver-grey cities, its lilac haze, its sweet, deep greenness, its
+atmosphere of living light!--France, the dwelling-place of God in all
+His myriad aspects--in all His protean forms! France, the sanctuary of
+Truth and all her ancient and her future liberties; France, blossoming
+domain of Love in Love's million exquisite transfigurations, wherein
+only the eye of faith can recognise the winged god amid his
+camouflage!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wine-strong winds of the Western World, and a pitiless Western sun
+which etches every contour with terrible precision, leaving nothing to
+imagination--no delicate mystery to rest and shelter souls--had swept
+away and partly erased from his mind the actuality of those five past
+years.
+
+Already that past, of which he had been a part, was becoming
+disturbingly unreal to him. Phantoms haunted its ever-paling sunlight;
+its scenes were fading; its voices grew vague and distant; its hushed
+laughter dwindled to a whisper, dying like a sigh.
+
+Then, suddenly, against that misty tapestry of tinted spectres,
+appeared Thessalie Dunois in the flesh!--straight out of the
+phantom-haunted void had stepped this glowing thing of life! Into the
+raw reek and familiar dissonance of Broadway she had vanished. Small
+wonder that he had followed her to keep in touch with the vanishing
+past, as a sleeper, waking against his will, strives still to grasp
+the fragile fabric of a happy dream.
+
+Yet, in spite of Thessalie, in spite of dreams, in spite of his own
+home-coming, and the touch of familiar pavements under his own feet,
+the past, to Barres, was utterly dead, the present strange and unreal,
+the future obscure and all aflame behind a world afire with war.
+
+For two years, now, no human mind in America had been able to adjust
+itself to the new heaven and the new earth which had sprung into lurid
+being at the thunderclap of war.
+
+All things familiar had changed in the twinkling of an eye; all former
+things had passed away, leaving the stunned brain of humanity dulled
+under the shock.
+
+Slowly, by degrees, the world was beginning to realise that the
+civilisation of Christ was being menaced once again by a resurgence
+from that ancient land of legend where the wild Hun denned;--that
+again the endless hordes of barbarians were rushing in on Europe out
+of their Eastern fastnesses--hordes which filled the shrinking skies
+with their clamour, vaunting the might of Baal, cheering their
+antichrist, drenching the knees of their own red gods with the blood
+of little children.
+
+It seemed impossible for Americans to understand that these things
+could be--were really true--that the horrors the papers printed were
+actualities happening to civilised people like themselves and their
+neighbours.
+
+Out of their own mouths the German tribes thundered their own disgrace
+and condemnation, yet America sat dazed, incredulous, motionless.
+Emperor and general, professor and junker, shouted at the top of their
+lungs the new creed, horrible as the Black Mass, reversing every
+precept taught by Christ.
+
+Millions of Teuton mouths cheered fiercely for the new
+religion--Frightfulness; worshipped with frantic yells the new
+trinity--Wotan, Kaiser and Brute Strength.
+
+Stunned, blinded, deafened, the Western World, still half-paralysed,
+stirred stiffly from its inertia. Slowly, mechanically, its arteries
+resumed their functions; the reflex, operating automatically, started
+trade again in its old channels; old habits were timidly resumed;
+minds groped backward, searching for severed threads which connected
+yesterday with to-day--groped, hunted, found nothing, and, perplexed,
+turned slowly toward the smoke-choked future for some reason for it
+all--some outlook.
+
+There was no explanation, no outlook--nothing save dust and flame and
+the din of Teutonic hordes trampling to death the Son of Man.
+
+So America moved about her worn, deep-trodden and familiar ways, her
+mind slowly clearing from the cataclysmic concussion, her power of
+vision gradually returning, adjusting itself, little by little, to
+this new heaven and new earth and this hell entirely new.
+
+The _Lusitania_ went down; the Great Republic merely quivered. Other
+ships followed; only a low murmur of pain came from the Western
+Colossus.
+
+But now, after the second year, through the thickening nightmare the
+Great Republic groaned aloud; and a new note of menace sounded in her
+drugged and dreary voice.
+
+And the thick ears of the Hun twitched and he paused, squatting
+belly-deep in blood, to listen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres walked homeward. Somewhere along in the 40's he turned eastward
+into one of those cross-streets originally built up of brownstone
+dwelling houses, and now in process of transformation into that
+architectural and commercial miscellany which marks the transition
+stage of the metropolis anywhere from Westchester to the sea.
+
+Altered for business purposes, basements displayed signs and
+merchandise of bootmakers, dealers in oriental porcelains, rare
+prints, silverware; parlour windows modified into bay windows, sheeted
+with plate-glass, exposed, perhaps, feminine headgear, or an expensive
+model gown or two, or the sign of a real-estate man, or of an
+upholsterer.
+
+Above the parlour floors lived people of one sort or another;
+furnished and unfurnished rooms and suites prevailed; and the
+brownstone monotony was already indented along the building line by
+brand-new constructions of Indiana limestone, behind the glittering
+plate-glass of which were to be seen reticent displays of artistic
+furniture, modern and antique oil paintings, here and there the
+lace-curtained den of some superior ladies' hair-dresser, where
+beautifying also was accomplished at a price, alas!
+
+Halfway between Sixth Avenue and Fifth, on the north side of the
+street, an enterprising architect had purchased half a dozen squatty,
+three-storied houses, set back from the sidewalk behind grass-plots.
+These had been lavishly stuccoed and transformed into abodes for those
+irregulars in the army of life known as "artists."
+
+In the rear the back fences had been levelled; six corresponding
+houses on the next street had been purchased; a sort of inner court
+established, with a common grass-plot planted with trees and
+embellished by a number of concrete works of art, battered statues,
+sundials, and well-curbs.
+
+Always the army of civilisation trudges along screened, flanked, and
+tagged after by life's irregulars, who cannot or will not conform to
+routine. And these are always roaming around seeking their own
+cantonments, where, for a while, they seem content to dwell at the end
+of one more aimless étape through the world--not in regulation
+barracks, but in regions too unconventional, too inconvenient to
+attract others.
+
+Of this sort was the collection of squatty houses, forming a
+"community," where, in the neighbourhood of other irregulars, Garret
+Barres dwelt; and into the lighted entrance of which he now turned,
+still exhilarated by his meeting with Thessalie Dunois.
+
+The architectural agglomeration was known as Dragon Court--a faïence
+Fu-dog above the electric light over the green entrance door
+furnishing that priceless idea--a Fu-dog now veiled by mesh-wire to
+provide against the indiscretions of sparrows lured thither by
+housekeeping possibilities lurking among the dense screens of Japanese
+ivy covering the façade.
+
+Larry Soane, the irresponsible superintendent, always turned gardener
+with April's advent in Dragon Court, contributions from its denizens
+enabling him to pepper a few flower-beds with hyacinths and tulips,
+and later with geraniums. These former bulbs had now gratefully
+appeared in promising thickets, and Barres saw the dark form of the
+handsome, reckless-looking Irishman fussing over them in the
+lantern-lit dusk, while his little daughter, Dulcie, kneeling on the
+dim grass, caressed the first blue hyacinth blossom with thin,
+childish fingers.
+
+Barres glanced into his letter-box behind the desk, above which a
+drop-light threw more shadows than illumination. Little Dulcie Soane
+was supposed to sit under it and emit information, deliver and receive
+letters, pay charges on packages, and generally supervise things when
+she was not attending school.
+
+There were no letters for the young man. He examined a package, found
+it contained his collars from the laundry, tucked them under his left
+arm, and walked to the door looking out upon the dusky interior
+court.
+
+"Soane," he said, "your garden begins to look very fine." He nodded
+pleasantly to Dulcie, and the child responded to his friendly greeting
+with the tired but dauntless smile of the young who are missing those
+golden years to which all childhood has a claim.
+
+Dulcie's three cats came strolling out of the dusk across the lamplit
+grass--a coal black one with sea-green eyes, known as "The Prophet,"
+and his platonic mate, white as snow, and with magnificent azure-blue
+eyes which, in white cats, usually betokens total deafness. She was
+known as "The Houri" to the irregulars of Dragon Court. The third cat,
+unanimously but misleadingly christened "Strindberg" by the dwellers
+in Dragon Court, has already crooked her tortoise-shell tail and was
+tearing around in eccentric circles or darting halfway up trees in a
+manner characteristic, and, possibly accounting for the name, if not
+for the sex.
+
+"Thim cats of the kid's," observed Soane, "do be scratchin' up the
+plants all night long--bad cess to thim! Barrin' thim three omadhauns
+yonder, I'd show ye a purty bed o' poisies, Misther Barres. But
+Sthrin'berg, God help her, is f'r diggin' through to China."
+
+Dulcie impulsively caressed the Prophet, who turned his solemn,
+incandescent eyes on Barres. The Houri also looked at him, then,
+intoxicated by the soft spring evening, rolled lithely upon the new
+grass and lay there twitching her snowy tail and challenging the stars
+out of eyes that matched their brilliance.
+
+Dulcie got up and walked slowly across the grass to where Barres
+stood:
+
+"May I come to see you this evening?" she asked, diffidently, and with
+a swift, sidelong glance toward her father.
+
+"Ah, then, don't be worritin' him!" grumbled Soane. "Hasn't Misther
+Barres enough to do, what with all thim idees he has slitherin' in his
+head, an' all the books an' learnin' an' picters he has to think
+of--whithout the likes of you at his heels every blessed minute, day
+an' night!----"
+
+"But he always lets me--" she remonstrated.
+
+"G'wan, now, and lave the poor gentleman be! Quit your futtherin' an'
+muttherin'. G'wan in the house, ye little scut, an' see what there is
+f'r ye to do!----"
+
+"What's the matter with you, Soane?" interrupted Barres good-humouredly.
+"Of course she can come up if she wants to. Do you feel like paying me
+a visit, Dulcie, before you go to bed?"
+
+"Yes," she nodded diffidently.
+
+"Well, come ahead then, Sweetness! And whenever you want to come you
+say so. Your father knows well enough I like to have you."
+
+He smiled at Dulcie; the child's shy preference for his society always
+had amused him. Besides, she was always docile and obedient; and she
+was very sensitive, too, never outwearing her welcome in his studio,
+and always leaving without a murmur when, looking up from book or
+drawing he would exclaim cheerfully: "Now, Sweetness! Time's up! Bed
+for yours, little lady!"
+
+It had been a very gradual acquaintance between them--more than two
+years in developing. From his first pleasant nod to her when he first
+came to live in Dragon Court, it had progressed for a few months,
+conservatively on her part, and on his with a detached but kindly
+interest born of easy sympathy for youth and loneliness.
+
+But he had no idea of the passionate response he was stirring in the
+motherless, neglected child--of what hunger he was carelessly
+stimulating, what latent qualities and dormant characteristics he was
+arousing.
+
+Her appearance, one evening, in her night-dress at his studio doorway,
+accompanied by her three cats, began to enlighten him in regard to her
+mental starvation. Tremulous, almost at the point of tears, she had
+asked for a book and permission to remain for a few moments in the
+studio. He had rung for Selinda, ordered fruit, cake, and a glass of
+milk, and had installed Dulcie upon the sofa with a lapful of books.
+That was the beginning.
+
+But Barres still did not entirely understand what particular magnet
+drew the child to his studio. The place was full of beautiful things,
+books, rugs, pictures, fine old furniture, cabinets glimmering with
+porcelains, ivories, jades, Chinese crystals. These all, in minutest
+detail, seemed to fascinate the girl. Yet, after giving her permission
+to enter whenever she desired, often while reading or absorbed in
+other affairs, he became conscious of being watched; and, glancing up,
+would frequently surprise her sitting there very silently, with an
+open book on her knees, and her strange grey eyes intently fixed on
+him.
+
+Then he would always smile and say something friendly; and usually
+forget her the next moment in his absorption of whatever work he had
+under way.
+
+Only one other man inhabiting Dragon Court ever took the trouble to
+notice or speak to the child--James Westmore, the sculptor. And he was
+very friendly in his vigorous, jolly, rather boisterous way, catching
+her up and tossing her about as gaily and irresponsibly as though she
+were a rag doll; and always telling her he was her adopted godfather
+and would have to chastise her if she ever deserved it. Also, he was
+always urging her to hurry and grow up, because he had a wedding
+present for her. And though Dulcie's smile was friendly, and
+Westmore's nonsense pleased the shy child, she merely submitted, never
+made any advance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres's ménage was accomplished by two specimens of mankind, totally
+opposite in sex and colour; Selinda, a blonde, slant-eyed, and very
+trim Finn, doing duty as maid; and Aristocrates W. Johnson, lately
+employed in the capacity of waiter on a dining-car by the New York
+Central Railroad--tall, dignified, graceful, and Ethiopian--who cooked
+as daintily as a débutante trifling with culinary duty, and served at
+table with the languid condescension of a dilettante and wealthy
+amateur of domestic arts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres ascended the two low, easy flights of stairs and unlocked his
+door. Aristocrates, setting the table in the dining-room, approached
+gracefully and relieved his master of hat, coat, and stick.
+
+Half an hour later, a bath and fresh linen keyed up his already
+lively spirits; he whistled while he tied his tie, took a critical
+look at himself, and, dropping both hands into the pockets of his
+dinner jacket, walked out into the big studio, which also was his
+living-room.
+
+There was a piano there; he sat down and rattled off a rollicking air
+from the most recent spring production, beginning to realise that he
+was keyed up for something livelier than a solitary dinner at home.
+
+His hands fell from the keys and he swung around on the piano stool
+and looked into the dining-room rather doubtfully.
+
+"Aristocrates!" he called.
+
+The tall pullman butler sauntered gracefully in.
+
+Barres gave him a telephone number to call. Aristocrates returned
+presently with the information that the lady was not at home.
+
+"All right. Try Amsterdam 6703. Ask for Miss Souval."
+
+But Miss Souval, also, was out.
+
+Barres possessed a red-leather covered note-book; he went to his desk
+and got it; and under his direction Aristocrates called up several
+numbers, reporting adversely in every case.
+
+It was a fine evening; ladies were abroad or preparing to fulfil
+engagements wisely made on such a day as this had been. And the more
+numbers he called up the lonelier the young man began to feel.
+
+Thessalie had not given him either her address or telephone number. It
+would have been charming to have her dine with him. He was now
+thoroughly inclined for company. He glanced at the empty dining-room
+with aversion.
+
+"All right; never mind," he said, dismissing Aristocrates, who receded
+as lithely as though leading a cake-walk.
+
+"The devil," muttered the young fellow. "I'm not going to dine here
+alone. I've had too happy a day of it."
+
+He got up restlessly and began to pace the studio. He knew he could
+get some man, but he didn't want one. However, it began to look like
+that or a solitary dinner.
+
+So after a few more moments' scowling cogitation he went out and down
+the stairs, with the vague idea of inviting some brother painter--any
+one of the regular irregulars who inhabited Dragon Court.
+
+Dulcie sat behind the little desk near the door, head bowed, her thin
+hands clasped over the closed ledger, and in her pallid face the
+expressionless dullness of a child forgotten.
+
+"Hello, Sweetness!" he said cheerfully.
+
+She looked up; a slight colour tinted her cheeks, and she smiled.
+
+"What's the matter, Dulcie?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing? That's a very dreary malady--nothing. You look lonely. Are
+you?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You don't know whether you are lonely or not?" he demanded.
+
+"I suppose I am," she ventured, with a shy smile.
+
+"Where is your father?"
+
+"He went out."
+
+"Any letters for me--or messages?"
+
+"A man--he had one eye--came. He asked who you are."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I think he was German. He had only one eye. He asked your name."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I told him. Then he went away."
+
+Barres shrugged:
+
+"Somebody who wants to sell artists' materials," he concluded. Then he
+looked at the girl: "So you're lonely, are you? Where are your three
+cats? Aren't they company for you?"
+
+"Yes...."
+
+"Well, then," he said gaily, "why not give a party for them? That
+ought to amuse you, Dulcie."
+
+The child still smiled; Barres walked on past her a pace or two,
+halted, turned irresolutely, arrived at some swift decision, and came
+back, suddenly understanding that he need seek no further--that he had
+discovered his guest of the evening at his very elbow.
+
+"Did you and your father have your supper, Dulcie?"
+
+"My father went out to eat at Grogan's."
+
+"How about you?"
+
+"I can find something."
+
+"Why not dine with me?" he suggested.
+
+The child stared, bewildered, then went a little pale.
+
+"Shall we have a dinner party for two--you and I, Dulcie? What do you
+say?"
+
+She said nothing, but her big grey eyes were fixed on him in a passion
+of inquiry.
+
+"A real party," he repeated. "Let the people get their own mail and
+packages until your father returns. Nobody's going to sneak in,
+anyway. Or, if that won't do, I'll call up Grogan's and tell your
+father to come back because you are going to dine in my studio with
+me. Do you know the telephone number? Very well; get Grogan's for me.
+I'll speak to your father."
+
+Dulcie's hand trembled on the receiver as she called up Grogan's;
+Barres bent over the transmitter:
+
+"Soane, Dulcie is going to take dinner in my studio with me. You'll
+have to come back on duty, when you've eaten." He hung up, looked at
+Dulcie and laughed.
+
+"I wanted company as much as you did," he confessed. "Now, go and put
+on your prettiest frock, and we'll be very grand and magnificent. And
+afterward we'll talk and look at books and pretty things--and maybe
+we'll turn on the Victrola and I'll teach you to dance--" He had
+already begun to ascend the stairs:
+
+"In half an hour, Dulcie!" he called back; "--and you may bring the
+Prophet if you like.... Shall I ask Mr. Westmore to join us?"
+
+"I'd rather be all alone with you," she said shyly.
+
+He laughed and ran on up the stairs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In half an hour the electric bell rang very timidly. Aristocrates,
+having been instructed and rehearsed, and, loftily condescending to
+his rôle in a kindly comedy to be played seriously, announced: "Miss
+Soane!" in his most courtly manner.
+
+Barres threw aside the evening paper and came forward, taking both
+hands of the white and slightly frightened child.
+
+"Aristocrates ought to have announced the Prophet, too," he said
+gaily, breaking the ice and swinging Dulcie around to face the open
+door again.
+
+The Prophet entered, perfectly at ease, his eyes of living jade
+shining, his tail urbanely hoisted.
+
+Dulcie ventured to smile; Barres laughed outright; Aristocrates
+surveyed the Prophet with toleration mingled with a certain respect.
+For a black cat is never without occult significance to a gentleman of
+colour.
+
+With Dulcie's hand still in his, Barres led her into the living-room,
+where, presently, Aristocrates brought a silver tray upon which was
+a glass of iced orange juice for Dulcie, and a "Bronnix," as
+Aristocrates called it, for the master.
+
+"To your health and good fortune in life, Dulcie," he said politely.
+
+The child gazed mutely at him over her glass, then, blushing, ventured
+to taste her orange juice.
+
+When she finished, Barres drew her frail arm through his and took her
+out, seating her. Ceremonies began in silence, and the master of the
+place was not quite sure whether the flush on Dulcie's face indicated
+unhappy embarrassment or pleasure.
+
+He need not have worried: the child adored it all. The Prophet came in
+and gravely seated himself on a neighbouring chair, whence he could
+survey the table and seriously inspect each course.
+
+"Dulcie," he said, "how grown-up you look with your bobbed hair put
+up, and your fluffy gown."
+
+She lifted her enchanted eyes to him:
+
+"It is my first communion dress.... I've had to make it longer for a
+graduation dress."
+
+"Oh, that's so; you're graduating this summer!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"Nothing." She sighed unconsciously and sat very still with folded
+hands, while Aristocrates refilled her glass of water.
+
+She no longer felt embarrassed; her gravity matched Aristocrates's;
+she seriously accepted whatever was offered or set before her, but
+Barres noticed that she ate it all, merely leaving on her plate, with
+inculcated and mathematical precision, a small portion as concession
+to good manners.
+
+They had, toward the banquet's end, water ices, bon-bons, French
+pastry, and ice cream. And presently a slight and blissful sigh of
+repletion escaped the child's red lips. The symptoms were satisfactory
+but unmistakable; Dulcie was perfectly feminine; her capacity had
+proven it.
+
+The Prophet's stately self-control in the fragrant vicinity of
+nourishment was now to be rewarded: Barres conducted Dulcie to the
+studio and installed her among cushions upon a huge sofa. Then,
+lighting a cigarette, he dropped down beside her and crossed one knee
+over the other.
+
+"Dulcie," he said in his lazy, humorous way, "it's a funny old world
+any way you view it."
+
+"Do you think it is always funny?" inquired the child, her deep, grey
+eyes on his face.
+
+He smiled:
+
+"Yes, I do; but sometimes the joke in on one's self. And then,
+although it is still a funny world, from the world's point of view,
+you, of course, fail to see the humour of it.... I don't suppose you
+understand."
+
+"I do," nodded the child, with the ghost of a smile.
+
+"Really? Well, I was afraid I'd been talking nonsense, but if you
+understand, it's all right."
+
+They both laughed.
+
+"Do you want to look at some books?" he suggested.
+
+"I'd rather listen to you."
+
+He smiled:
+
+"All right. I'll begin at this corner of the room and tell you about
+the things in it." And for a while he rambled lazily on about old
+French chairs and Spanish chests, and the panels of Mille Fleur
+tapestry which hung behind them; the two lovely pre-Raphael panels in
+their exquisite ancient frames; the old Venetian velvet covering
+triple choir-stalls in the corner; the ivory-toned marble figure on
+its wood and compos pedestal, where tendrils and delicate foliations
+of water gilt had become slightly irridescent, harmonising with the
+patine on the ancient Chinese garniture flanking a mantel clock of
+dullest gold.
+
+About these things, their workmanship, the histories of their times,
+he told her in his easy, unaccented voice, glancing sideways at her
+from time to time to note how she stood it.
+
+But she listened, fascinated, her gaze moving from the object
+discussed to the man who discussed it; her slim limbs curled under
+her, her hands clasped around a silken cushion made from the robe of
+some Chinese princess.
+
+Lounging there beside her, amused, humorously flattered by her
+attention, and perhaps a little touched, he held forth a little
+longer.
+
+"Is it a nice party, so far, Dulcie?" he concluded with a smile.
+
+She flushed, found no words, nodded, and sat with lowered head as
+though pondering.
+
+"What would you rather do if you could do what you want to in the
+world, Dulcie?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Think a minute."
+
+She thought for a while.
+
+"Live with you," she said seriously.
+
+"Oh, Dulcie! That is no sort of ambition for a growing girl!" he
+laughed; and she laughed, too, watching his every expression out of
+grey eyes that were her chiefest beauty.
+
+"You're a little too young to know what you want yet," he concluded,
+still smiling. "By the time that bobbed mop of red hair grows to a
+proper length, you'll know more about yourself."
+
+"Do you like it up?" she enquired naïvely.
+
+"It makes you look older."
+
+"I want it to."
+
+"I suppose so," he nodded, noticing the snowy neck which the new
+coiffure revealed. It was becoming evident to him that Dulcie had her
+own vanities--little pathetic vanities which touched him as he glanced
+at the reconstructed first communion dress and the drooping hyacinth
+pinned at the waist, and the cheap white slippers on a foot as
+slenderly constructed as her long and narrow hands.
+
+"Did your mother die long ago, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In America?"
+
+"In Ireland."
+
+"You look like her, I fancy--" thinking of Soane.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Barres had heard Soane hold forth in his cups on one or two
+occasions--nothing more than the vague garrulousness of a Celt made
+more loquacious by the whiskey of one Grogan--something about his
+having been a gamekeeper in his youth, and that his wife--"God rest
+her!"--might have held up her head with "anny wan o' thim in th' Big
+House."
+
+Recollecting this, he idly wondered what the story might have been--a
+young girl's perverse infatuation for her father's gamekeeper,
+perhaps--a handsome, common, ignorant youth, reckless and irresponsible
+enough to take advantage of her--probably some such story--resembling
+similar histories of chauffeurs, riding-masters, grooms, and
+coachmen at home.
+
+The Prophet came noiselessly into the studio, stopped at sight of his
+little mistress, twitched his tail reflectively, then leaped onto a
+carved table and calmly began his ablutions.
+
+Barres got up and wound up the Victrola. Then he kicked aside a rug or
+two.
+
+"This is to be a real party, you know," he remarked. "You don't dance,
+do you?"
+
+"Yes," she said diffidently, "a little."
+
+"Oh! That's fine!" he exclaimed.
+
+Dulcie got off the sofa, shook out her reconstructed gown. When he
+came over to where she stood, she laid her hand in his almost
+solemnly, so overpowering had become the heavenly sequence of events.
+For the rite of his hospitality had indeed become a rite to her. Never
+before had she stood in awe, enthralled before such an altar as this
+man's hearthstone. Never had she dreamed that he who so wondrously
+served it could look at such an offering as hers--herself.
+
+But the miracle had happened; altar and priest were accepting her; she
+laid her hand, which trembled, in his; gave herself to his guidance
+and to the celestial music, scarcely seeing, scarcely hearing his
+voice.
+
+"You dance delightfully," he was saying; "you're a born dancer,
+Dulcie. I do it fairly well myself, and I ought to know."
+
+He was really very much surprised. He was enjoying it immensely. When
+the Victrola gave up the ghost he wound it again and came back to
+resume. Under his suggestions and tutelage, they tried more intricate
+steps, devious and ambitious, and Dulcie, unterrified by terpsichorean
+complications, surmounted every one with his whispered coaching and
+expert aid.
+
+Now it came to a point where time was not for him. He was too
+interested, enjoying it too genuinely.
+
+Sometimes, when they paused to enable him to resurrect the defunct
+music in the Victrola, they laughed at the Prophet, who sat upon the
+ancient carved table, gravely surveying them. Sometimes they rested
+because he thought she ought to--himself a trifle pumped--only to
+find, to his amazement, that he need not be solicitous concerning
+her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A tall and ancient clock ringing midnight from clear, uncompromising
+bells, brought Barres to himself.
+
+"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "this won't do! Dear child, I'm having a
+wonderful time, but I've got to deliver you to your father!"
+
+He drew her arm through his, laughingly pretending horror and haste;
+she fled lightly along beside him as he whisked her through the hall
+and down the stairs.
+
+A candle burned on the desk. Soane sat there, asleep, and odorous of
+alcohol, his flushed face buried in his arms.
+
+But Soane was what is known as a "sob-souse"; never ugly in his cups,
+merely inclined to weep over the immemorial wrongs of Ireland.
+
+He woke up when Barres touched his shoulder, rubbed his swollen eyes
+and black, curly head, gazed tragically at his daughter:
+
+"G'wan to bed, ye little scut!" he said, getting to his feet with a
+terrific yawn.
+
+Barres took her hand:
+
+"We've had a wonderful party, haven't we, Sweetness?"
+
+"Yes," whispered the child.
+
+The next instant she was gone like a ghost, through the dusky,
+whitewashed corridor where distorted shadows trembled in the
+candlelight.
+
+"Soane," said Barres, "this won't do, you know. They'll sack you if
+you keep on drinking."
+
+The man, not yet forty, a battered, middle-aged by-product of hale and
+reckless vigour, passed his hands over his temples with the dignity
+of a Hibernian Hamlet:
+
+"The harp that wanst through Tara's halls--" he began; but memory
+failed; and two tears--by-products, also, of Grogan's whiskey--sparkled
+in his reproachful eyes.
+
+"I'm merely telling you," remarked Barres. "We all like you, Soane,
+but the landlord won't stand for it."
+
+"May God forgive him," muttered Soane. "Was there ever a landlord but
+he was a tyrant, too?"
+
+Barres blew out the candle; a faint light above the Fu-dog outside,
+over the street door, illuminated the stone hall.
+
+"You ought to keep sober for your little daughter's sake," insisted
+Barres in a low voice. "You love her, don't you?"
+
+"I do that!" said Soane--"God bless her and her poor mother, who could
+hould up her pretty head with anny wan till she tuk up with th' like
+o' me!"
+
+His brogue always increased in his cups; devotion to Ireland and a
+lofty scorn of landlords grew with both.
+
+"You'd better keep away from Grogan's," remarked Barres.
+
+"I had a bite an' a sup at Grogan's. Is there anny harrm in that,
+sorr?"
+
+"Cut out the 'sup,' Larry. Cut out that gang of bums at Grogan's, too.
+There are too many Germans hanging out around Grogan's these days. You
+Sinn Feiners or Clan-na-Gael, or whatever you are, had better manage
+your own affairs, anyway. The old-time Feinans stood on their own
+sturdy legs, not on German beer-skids."
+
+"Wisha then, sorr, d'ye mind th' ould song they sang in thim days:
+
+  "_Then up steps Bonyparty
+  An' takes me by the hand,
+  And how is ould Ireland,
+  And how does she shtand?
+  It's a poor, disthressed country
+  As ever yet was seen,
+  And they're hangin' men and women
+  For the wearing of the green!_
+
+  _Oh, the wearing of the_----"
+
+"That'll do," said Barres drily. "Do you want to wake the house? Don't
+go to Grogan's and talk about Ireland to any Germans. I'll tell you
+why: we'll probably be at war with Germany ourselves within a year,
+and that's a pretty good reason for you Irish to keep clear of all
+Germans. Go to bed!"
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+DULCIE
+
+
+One warm afternoon late in spring, Dulcie Soane, returning from school
+to Dragon Court, found her father behind the desk, as usual, awaiting
+his daughter's advent, to release him from duty.
+
+A tall, bony man with hectic and sunken cheeks and only a single eye
+was standing by the desk, earnestly engaged in whispered conversation
+with her father.
+
+He drew aside instantly as Dulcie came up and laid her school books on
+the desk. Soane, already redolent of Grogan's whiskey, pushed back his
+chair and got to his feet.
+
+"G'wan in f'r a bite an' a sup," he said to his daughter, "while I
+talk to the gintleman."
+
+So Dulcie went slowly into the superintendent's dingy quarters for her
+mid-day meal, which was dinner; and between her and a sloppy
+scrub-woman who cooked for them, she managed to warm up and eat what
+Soane had left for her from his own meal.
+
+When she returned to the desk in the hall, the one-eyed man had gone.
+Soane sat on the chair behind the desk, his face over-red and shiny,
+his heels drumming the devil's tattoo on the tessellated pavement.
+
+"I'll be at Grogan's," he said, as Dulcie seated herself in the
+ancient leather chair behind the desk telephone, and began to sort the
+pile of mail which the postman evidently had just delivered.
+
+"Very well," she murmured absently, turning around and beginning
+to distribute the letters and parcels in the various numbered
+compartments behind her. Soane slid off his chair to his feet and
+straightened up, stretching and yawning.
+
+"Av anny wan tilliphones to Misther Barres," he said, "listen in."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Listen in, I'm tellin' you. And if it's a lady, ask her name first,
+and then listen in. And if she says her name is Quellen or Dunois,
+mind what she says to Misther Barres."
+
+"Why?" enquired Dulcie, astonished.
+
+"Becuz I'm tellin' ye!"
+
+"I shall not do that," said the girl, flushing up.
+
+"Ah, bother! Sure, there's no harm in it, Dulcie! Would I be askin' ye
+to do wrong, asthore? Me who is your own blood and kin? Listen then:
+'Tis a woman what do be botherin' the poor young gentleman, an' I'll
+not have him f'r to be put upon. Listen, m'acushla, and if airy a lady
+tilliphones, or if she comes futtherin' an' muttherin' around here,
+call me at Grogan's and I'll be soon dishposen' av the likes av her."
+
+"Has she ever been here--this lady?" asked the girl, uncertain and
+painfully perplexed.
+
+"Sure has she! Manny's the time I've chased her out," replied Soane
+glibly.
+
+"Oh. What does she look like?"
+
+"God knows--annything ye don't wish f'r to look like yourself! Sure, I
+disremember what make of woman she might be--her name's enough for
+you. Call me up if she comes or rings. She may be a dangerous woman,
+at that," he added, "so speak fair to her and listen in to what she
+says."
+
+Dulcie slowly nodded, looking at him hard.
+
+Soane put on his faded brown hat at an angle, fished a cigar with a
+red and gold band from his fancy but soiled waistcoat, scratched a
+match on the seat of his greasy pants, and sauntered out through the
+big, whitewashed hallway into the street, with a touch of the swagger
+which always characterised him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie, both hands buried in her ruddy hair and both thin elbows on
+the desk, sat poring over her school books.
+
+Graduation day was approaching; there was much for her to absorb, much
+to memorise before then.
+
+As she studied she hummed to herself the air of the quaint song which
+she was to sing at her graduation exercises. That did not interfere
+with her concentration; but as she finished one lesson, cast aside the
+book, and opened another to prepare the next lesson, vaguely happy
+memories of her evening party with Barres came into her mind to
+disturb her thoughts, tempting her to reverie and the delicious
+idleness she knew only when alone and absorbed in thoughts of him.
+
+But she resolutely put him out of her mind and opened her book.
+
+The hall clock ticked loudly through the silence; slanting sun rays
+fell through the street grille, across the tessellated floor where
+flies crawled and buzzed.
+
+The Prophet sat full in a bar of sunlight and gravely followed the
+movements of the flies as though specialising on the study of those
+amazing insects.
+
+Tenants of Dragon Court passed out or entered at intervals, pausing to
+glance at their letter-boxes or requesting their keys.
+
+Westmore came down the eastern staircase, like an avalanche, with a
+cheery:
+
+"Hello, Dulcie! Any letters? All right, old dear! If you see Mr.
+Mandel, tell him I'll be at the club!"
+
+Corot Mandel came in presently, and she gave him Westmore's message.
+
+"Thanks," he said, not even glancing at the thin figure in the shabby
+dress too small for her. And, after peering into his letter-box, he
+went away with the indolent swing of a large and powerful plantigrade,
+gazing fixedly ahead of him out of heavy, oriental eyes, and twisting
+up his jet black, waxed moustache.
+
+A tall, handsome girl called and enquired for Mr. Trenor. Dulcie
+returned her amiable smile, unhooked the receiver, and telephoned up.
+But nobody answered from Esmé Trenor's apartment, and the girl, whose
+name was Damaris Souval, and whose profession varied between the stage
+and desultory sitting for artists, smiled once more on Dulcie and
+sauntered out in her very charming summer gown.
+
+The shabby child looked after her through the sunny hallway, the smile
+still curving her lips--a sensitive, winning smile, untainted by envy.
+Then she resumed her book, serenely clearing her youthful mind of
+vanity and desire for earthly things.
+
+Half an hour later Esmé Trenor sauntered in. His was a sensitive
+nature and fastidious, too. Dinginess, obscurity--everything that was
+shabby, tarnished, humble in life, he consistently ignored. He had
+ignored Dulcie Soane for three years: he ignored her now.
+
+He glanced indifferently into his letter-box as he passed the desk.
+Dulcie said, with the effort it always required for her to speak to
+him:
+
+"Miss Souval called, but left no message."
+
+Trenor's supercilious glance rested on her for the fraction of a
+second, then, with a bored nod, he continued on his way and up the
+stairs. And Dulcie returned to her book.
+
+The desk telephone rang: a Mrs. Helmund desired to speak to Mr.
+Trenor. Dulcie switched her on, rested her chin on her hand, and
+continued her reading.
+
+Some time afterward the telephone rang again.
+
+"Dragon Court," said Dulcie, mechanically.
+
+"I wish to speak to Mr. Barres, please."
+
+"Mr. Barres has not come in from luncheon."
+
+"Are you sure?" said the pretty, feminine voice.
+
+"Quite sure," replied Dulcie. "Wait a minute----"
+
+She called Barres's apartment; Aristocrates answered and confirmed his
+master's absence with courtly effusion.
+
+"No, he is not in," repeated Dulcie. "Who shall I say called him?"
+
+"Say that Miss Dunois called him up. If he comes in, say that Miss
+Thessalie Dunois will come at five to take tea with him. Thank you.
+Good-bye."
+
+Startled to hear the very name against which her father had warned
+her, Dulcie found it difficult to reconcile the sweet voice that came
+to her over the wire with the voice of any such person her father had
+described.
+
+Still a trifle startled, she laid aside the receiver with a disturbed
+glance toward the wrought-iron door at the further end of the hall.
+
+She had no desire at all to call up her father at Grogan's and inform
+him of what had occurred. The mere thought of surreptitious listening
+in, of eavesdropping, of informing, reddened her face. Also, she had
+long since lost confidence in the somewhat battered but jaunty man who
+had always neglected her, although never otherwise unkind, even when
+intoxicated.
+
+No, she would neither listen in nor inform on anybody at the behest of
+a father for whom, alas, she had no respect, merely those shreds of
+conventional feeling which might once have been filial affection, but
+had become merely an habitual solicitude.
+
+No, her character, her nature refused such obedience. If there was
+trouble between the owner of the unusually sweet voice and Mr. Barres,
+it was their affair, not hers, not her father's.
+
+This settled in her mind, she opened another book and turned the pages
+slowly until she came to the lesson to be learned.
+
+It was hard to concentrate; her thoughts were straying, now, to
+Barres.
+
+And, as she leaned there, musing above her dingy school book, through
+the grilled door at the further end of the hall stepped a young girl
+in a light summer gown--a beautiful girl, lithe, graceful, exquisitely
+groomed--who came swiftly up to the desk, a trifle pale and
+breathless:
+
+"Mr. Barres? He lives here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Please announce Miss Dunois."
+
+Dulcie flushed deeply under the shock:
+
+"Mr.--Mr. Barres is still out----"
+
+"Oh. Was it you I talked to over the telephone?" asked Thessalie
+Dunois.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. Barres has not returned?"
+
+"No."
+
+Thessalie bit her lip, hesitated, turned to go. And at the same
+instant Dulcie saw the one-eyed man at the street door, peering
+through the iron grille.
+
+Thessalie saw him, too, stiffened to marble, stood staring straight at
+him.
+
+He turned and went away up the street. But Dulcie, to whom the
+incident signified nothing in particular except the impudence of a
+one-eyed man, was not prepared for the face which Thessalie Dunois
+turned toward her. Not a vestige of colour remained in it, and her
+dark eyes seemed feverish and too large.
+
+"You need not give Mr. Barres any message from me," she said in an
+altered voice, which sounded strained and unsteady. "Please do not
+even say that I came or mention my name.... May I ask it of you?"
+
+Dulcie, very silent in her surprise, made no reply.
+
+"Please may I ask it of you?" whispered Thessalie. "Do you mind not
+telling anybody that I was here?"
+
+"If--you wish it."
+
+"I do. May I trust you?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Thank you--" A bank bill was in her gloved fingers; intuition warned
+her; she took another swift look at Dulcie. The child's face was
+flaming scarlet.
+
+"Forgive me," whispered Thessalie.... "And thank you, dear--" She bent
+over quickly, took Dulcie's hand, pressed it, looking her in the
+eyes.
+
+"It's all right," she whispered. "I am not asking you to do anything
+you shouldn't. Mr. Barres will understand it all when I write to
+him.... Did you see that man at the street door, looking through the
+grating?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know who he is?" whispered Thessalie.
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you never before seen him?"
+
+"Yes. He was here at two o'clock talking to my father."
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"My father's name is Lawrence Soane. He is superintendent of Dragon
+Court."
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Dulcie Soane."
+
+Thessalie still held her hand tightly. Then with a quick but forced
+smile, she pressed it, thanking the girl for her consideration, turned
+and walked swiftly through the hall out into the street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie, dreaming over her closed books in the fading light, vaguely
+uneasy lest her silence might embrace the faintest shadow of
+disloyalty to Barres, looked up quickly at the sound of his familiar
+footsteps on the pavement.
+
+"Hello, little comrade," he called to her on his way to the stairs.
+"Didn't we have a jolly party the other evening? I'm going out to
+another party this evening, but I bet it won't be as jolly as ours!"
+
+The girl smiled happily.
+
+"Any letters, Sweetness?"
+
+"None, Mr. Barres."
+
+"All the better. I have too many letters, too many visitors. It leaves
+me no time to have another party with you. But we shall have another,
+Dulcie--never fear. That is," he added, pretending to doubt her
+receptiveness of his invitation, "if you would care to have another
+with me."
+
+She merely looked at him, smiling deliciously.
+
+"Be a good child and we'll have another!" he called back to her,
+running on up the western staircase.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Around seven o'clock her father came in, steady enough of foot but
+shiny-red in the face and maudlin drunk.
+
+"That woman was here," he whined, "an' ye never called me up! I am
+b-bethrayed be me childer--wurra the day----"
+
+"Please, father! If any one sees you----"
+
+"An' phwy not! Am I ashamed o' the tears I shed? No, I am not. No
+Irishman need take shame along av the tears he sheds for Ireland--God
+bless her where she shtands!--wid the hob-nails av the crool tyrant
+foreninst her bleeding neck an'----"
+
+"Father, please----"
+
+"That woman I warned ye of! She was here! 'Twas the wan-eyed lad who
+seen her----"
+
+Dulcie rose and took him by his arm. He made no resistance; but he
+wept while she conducted him bedward, as the immemorial wrongs of
+Ireland tore his soul.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS
+
+
+The tremendous tragedy in Europe, now nearing the end of the second
+act, had been slowly shaking the drowsy Western World out of its snug
+slumber of complacency. Young America was already sitting up in bed,
+awake, alert, listening. Older America, more difficult to convince,
+rolled solemn and interrogative eyes toward Washington, where the
+wooden gods still sat nodding in a row, smiling vacuously at destiny
+out of carved and painted features. Eyes had they but they saw not,
+ears but they heard not; neither spake they through their mouths.
+
+Yet, they that made them were no longer like unto them, for many an
+anxious idolater no longer trusted in them. For their old God's voice
+was sounding in their ears.
+
+The voice of a great ex-president, too, had been thundering from the
+wilderness; lesser prophets, endowed, however, with intellect and
+vision, had been warning the young West that the second advent of
+Attila was at hand; an officer of the army, inspired of God, had
+preached preparedness from the market places and had established for
+its few disciples an habitation; and a great Admiral had died of a
+broken heart because his lips had been officially sealed--the wisest
+lips that ever told of those who go down to the sea in ships.
+
+Plainer and plainer in American ears sounded the mounting surf of
+that blood-red sea thundering against the frontiers of Democracy;
+clearer and clearer came the discordant clamour of the barbaric
+hordes; louder and more menacing the half-crazed blasphemies of their
+chief, who had given the very name of the Scourge of God to one among
+the degenerate litter he had sired.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Garret Barres had been educated like any American of modern New York
+type. Harvard, then five years abroad, and a return to his native city
+revealed him as an ambitious, receptive, intelligent young man, deeply
+interested in himself and his own affairs, theoretically patriotic, a
+good citizen by intention, an affectionate son and brother, and
+already a pretty good painter of the saner species.
+
+A modest income of his own enabled him to bide his time and decline
+pot-boilers. A comparatively young father and an even more youthful
+mother, both of sporting proclivities, together with a sister of the
+same tastes, were his preferred companions when he had time to go home
+to the family rooftree in northern New York. His lines, indeed, were
+cast in pleasant places. Beside still waters in green pastures, he
+could always restore his city-tarnished soul when he desired to retire
+for a while from the battleground of endeavour.
+
+The city, after all, offered him a world-wide battlefield; for Garret
+Barres was by choice a painter of thoroughbred women, of cosmopolitan
+men--a younger warrior of the brush imbued with the old traditions of
+those great English captains of portraiture, who recorded for us the
+more brilliant human truths of the seventeenth and eighteenth
+centuries.
+
+From their stately canvases aglow, the eyes of the lovely dead look
+out at us; the eyes of ambition, of pride, of fatuous complacency;
+the haunted eyes of sorrow; the clear eyes of faith. Out of the past
+they gaze--those who once lived--deathlessly recorded by Van Dyck,
+Lely, Kneller; by Gainsborough, Reynolds, Hoppner, Lawrence, Raeburn;
+or consigned to a dignified destiny by Stuart, Sully, Inman, and
+Vanderlyn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Barres returned to New York after many years, he found that the
+aspect of the city had not altered very greatly. The usual dirt,
+disorder, and municipal confusion still reigned; subways were being
+dug, but since the memory of man runneth, the streets of the
+metropolis have been dug up, and its market places and byways have
+been an abomination.
+
+The only visible excitement, however, was in the war columns of the
+newspapers, and, sometimes, around bulletin boards where wrangling
+groups were no uncommon sight, citizens and aliens often coming into
+verbal collision--sometimes physical--promptly suppressed by bored
+policemen.
+
+There was a "preparedness" parade; thousands of worthy citizens
+marched in it, nervously aware, now, that the Great Republic's only
+mobile military division was on the Mexican border, where also certain
+Guard regiments were likely to be directed to reinforce the
+regulars--pet regiments from the city, among whose corps of officers
+and enlisted men everybody had some friend or relative.
+
+But these regiments had not yet entrained. There were few soldiers to
+be seen on the streets. Khaki began to be noticeable in New York only
+when the Plattsburg camps opened. After that there was an interim of
+the usual dull, unaccented civilian monotony, mitigated at rare
+intervals by this dun-coloured ebb and flow from Plattsburg.
+
+Like the first vague premonitions of a nightmare the first ominous
+symptoms of depression were slowly possessing hearts already uneasy
+under two years' burden of rumours unprintable, horrors incredible to
+those aloof and pursuing the peaceful tenor of their ways.
+
+A growing restlessness, unbelief, the incapacity to
+understand--selfishness, rapacity, self-righteousness, complacency,
+cowardice, even stupidity itself were being jolted and shocked into
+something resembling a glimmer of comprehension as the hunnish U-boats,
+made ravenous by the taste of blood, steered into western shipping lanes
+like a vast shoal of sharks.
+
+And always thicker and thicker came the damning tales of rape
+and murder, of cowardly savagery, brutal vileness, degenerate
+bestiality--clearer, nearer, distinctly audible, the sigh of a
+ravaged and expiring civilisation trampled to obliteration by the
+slavering, ferocious swine of the north.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fires among shipping, fires amid great stores of cotton and grain
+destined for France or England, explosions of munitions of war ordered
+by nations of the Entente, the clumsy propaganda or impudent sneers of
+German and pro-German newspapers; reports of German meddling in
+Mexico, in South America, in Japan; more sinister news concerning the
+insolent activities of certain embassies--all these were beginning to
+have their logical effect among a fat and prosperous people which
+simply could not bear to be aroused from pleasant dreams of
+brotherhood to face the raw and hellish truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"For fifty years," remarked Barres to his neighbour, Esmé Trenor,
+also a painter of somewhat eccentric portraits, "our national
+characteristic has been a capacity for absorbing bunk and a fixed
+determination to kid ourselves. There really is a war, Trenor, old
+top, and we're going to get into it before very long."
+
+Trenor, a tall, tired, exquisitely groomed young man, who once had
+painted a superficially attractive portrait of a popular débutante,
+and had been overwhelmed with fashionable orders ever since, was the
+adored of women. He dropped one attenuated knee over the other and
+lighted an attenuated cigarette.
+
+"Fancy anybody bothering enough about anything to fight over it!" he
+said languidly.
+
+"We're going to _war_, Trenor," repeated Barres, jamming his brushes
+into a bowl of black soap. "That's my positive conviction."
+
+"Yours is so disturbingly positive a nature," remonstrated the other.
+"Why ever raise a row? Nothing positive is of any real importance--not
+even opinions."
+
+Barres, vigorously cleaning his brushes in turpentine and black soap,
+glanced around at Trenor, and in his quick smile there glimmered a
+hint of good-natured malice. For Esmé Trenor was notoriously anything
+except positive in his painting, always enveloping a lack of technical
+knowledge with a veil of camouflage. Behind this pretty veil hid many
+defects, perhaps even deformities--protected by vague, indefinite
+shadows and the effrontery of an adroit exploiter of the restless
+sex.
+
+But Esmé Trenor was both clever and alert. He had not even missed that
+slight and momentary glimmer of good-humoured malice in the pleasant
+glance of Barres. But, like his more intelligent prototype, Whistler,
+it was impossible to know whether or not discovery ever made any
+particular difference to him. He tucked a lilac-bordered handkerchief
+a little deeper into his cuff, glanced at his jewelled wrist-watch,
+shook the long ash from his cigarette.
+
+"To be positive in anything," he drawled, "is an effort; effort
+entails exertion; exertion is merely a degree of violence; violence
+engenders toxins; toxins dull the intellect. Quod erat, dear friend.
+You see?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I see," nodded Barres, always frankly amused at Trenor and
+his ways.
+
+"Well, then, if you see----" Trenor waved a long, bony, over-manicured
+hand, expelled a ring or two of smoke, meditatively; then, in his
+characteristically languid voice: "To be positive closes the door to
+further observation and pulls down the window shades. Nothing remains
+except to go to bed. Is there anything more uninteresting than to go
+to bed? Is there anything more depressing than to know all about
+something?"
+
+"You do converse like an ass sometimes," remarked Barres.
+
+"Yes--sometimes. Not now, Barres. I don't desire to know all about
+anybody or anything. Fancy my knowing all about art, for example!"
+
+"Yes, fancy!" repeated Barres, laughing.
+
+"Or about anything specific--a woman, for example!" He shrugged
+wearily.
+
+"If you meet a woman and like her, don't you want to know all there is
+to know about her?" inquired Barres.
+
+"I should say not!" returned the other with languid contempt. "I don't
+wish to know anything at all about her."
+
+"Well, we differ about that, old top."
+
+"Religiously. A woman can be only an incidental amusement in one's
+career. You don't go to a musical comedy twice, do you? And any woman
+will reveal herself sufficiently in one evening."
+
+"Nice, kindly domestic instincts you have, Trenor."
+
+"I'm merely fastidious," returned the other, dropping his cigarette
+out of the open window. He rose, yawned, took his hat, stick and
+gloves.
+
+"Bye," he said languidly. "I'm painting Elsena Helmund this morning."
+
+Barres said, with good-humoured envy:
+
+"I've neither commission nor sitter. If I had, you bet I'd not stand
+there yawning at my luck."
+
+"It is you who have the luck, not I," drawled Trenor. "I give a
+portion of my spiritual and material self with every brush stroke,
+while you remain at liberty to flourish and grow fat in idleness. I
+perish as I create; my life exhausts itself to feed my art. What you
+call my good luck is my martyrdom. You see, dear friend, how fortunate
+you are?"
+
+"I see," grinned Barres. "But will your spiritual nature stand such a
+cruel drain? Aren't you afraid your morality may totter?"
+
+"Morality," mused Esmé, going; "that is one of those early Gothic
+terms now obsolete, I believe----"
+
+He sauntered out with his hat and gloves and stick, still murmuring:
+
+"Morality? Gothic--very Gothic--"
+
+Barres, still amused, sorted his wet brushes, dried them carefully one
+by one on a handful of cotton waste, and laid them in a neat row
+across the soapstone top of his palette-table.
+
+"Hang it!" he muttered cheerfully. "I could paint like a streak this
+morning if I had the chance--"
+
+He threw himself back in his chair and sat there smoking for a while,
+his narrowing eyes fixed on a great window which opened above the
+court. Soft spring breezes stirred the curtains; sparrows were noisy
+out there; a strip of cobalt sky smiled at him over the opposite
+chimneys; an April cloud floated across it.
+
+He rose, walked over to the window and glanced down into the court.
+Several more hyacinths were now in blossom. The Prophet dozed
+majestically, curled up on an Italian garden seat. Beside him sprawled
+the snow white Houri, stretched out full length in the sun, her
+wonderful blue eyes following the irrational gambols of the
+tortoise-shell cat, Strindberg, who had gone loco, as usual, and was
+tearing up and down trees, prancing sideways with flattened ears and
+crooked tail, in terror at things invisible, or digging furiously
+toward China amid the hyacinths.
+
+Dulcie Soane came out into the court presently and expostulated with
+Strindberg, who suffered herself to be removed from the hyacinth bed,
+only to make a hysterical charge on her mistress's ankles.
+
+"Stop it, you crazy thing!" insisted Dulcie, administering a gentle
+slap which sent the cat bucketing and corvetting across the lawn,
+where the eccentric course of a dead leaf, blown by the April wind,
+instantly occupied its entire intellectual vacuum.
+
+Barres, leaning on the window-sill, said, without raising his voice:
+
+"Hello, Dulcie! How are you, after our party?"
+
+The child looked up, smiled shyly her response through the pale glory
+of the April sunshine.
+
+"What are you doing to-day?" he inquired, with casual but friendly
+interest.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Isn't there any school?"
+
+"It's Saturday."
+
+"That's so. Well, if you're doing nothing you're just as busy as I
+am," he remarked, smiling down at her where she stood below his
+window.
+
+"Why don't you paint pictures?" ventured the girl diffidently.
+
+"Because I haven't any orders. Isn't that sad?"
+
+"Yes.... But you could paint a picture just to please yourself,
+couldn't you?"
+
+"I haven't anybody to paint from," he explained with amiable
+indifference, lazily watching the effect of alternate shadow and
+sunlight on her upturned face.
+
+"Couldn't you find--somebody?" Her heart had suddenly begun to beat
+very fast.
+
+Barres laughed:
+
+"Would you like to have your portrait painted?"
+
+She could scarcely find voice to reply:
+
+"Will you--let me?"
+
+The slim young figure down there in the April sunshine had now
+arrested his professional attention. With detached interest he
+inspected her for a few moments; then:
+
+"You'd make an interesting study, Dulcie. What do you say?"
+
+"Do--do you mean that you _want_ me?"
+
+"Why--yes! Would you like to pose for me? It's pin-money, anyway.
+Would you like to try it?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Are you quite sure? It's hard work."
+
+"Quite--sure----" she stammered. The little flushed face was lifted
+very earnestly to his now, almost beseechingly. "I am quite sure," she
+repeated breathlessly.
+
+"So you'd really like to pose for me?" he insisted in smiling surprise
+at the girl's visible excitement. Then he added abruptly: "I've half a
+mind to give you a job as my private model!"
+
+Through the rosy confusion of her face her grey eyes were fixed on him
+with a wistful intensity, almost painful. For into her empty heart and
+starved mind had suddenly flashed a dazzling revelation. Opportunity
+was knocking at her door. Her chance had come! Perhaps it had been
+inherited from her mother--God knows!--this deep, deep hunger for
+things beautiful--this passionate longing for light and knowledge.
+
+Mere contact with such a man as Barres had already made endurable a
+solitary servitude which had been subtly destroying her child's
+spirit, and slowly dulling the hunger in her famished mind. And now to
+aid him--to feel that he was using her--was to arise from her rags of
+ignorance and emerge upright into the light which filled that
+wonder-house wherein he dwelt, and on the dark threshold of which her
+lonely little soul had crouched so long in silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She looked up almost blindly at the man who, in careless friendliness,
+had already opened his door to her, had permitted her to read his
+wonder-books, had allowed her to sit unreproved and silent from sheer
+happiness, and gaze unsatiated upon the wondrous things within the
+magic mansion where he dwelt.
+
+And now to serve this man; to aid him, to creep into the light in
+which he stood and strive to learn and see!--the thought already had
+produced a delicate intoxication in the child, and she gazed up at
+Barres from the sunny garden with her naked soul in her eyes. Which
+confused, perplexed, and embarrassed him.
+
+"Come on up," he said briefly. "I'll tell your father over the
+'phone."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She entered without a sound, closed the door which he had left open
+for her, advanced across the thick-meshed rug. She still wore her blue
+gingham apron; her bobbed hair, full of ruddy lights, intensified the
+whiteness of her throat. In her arms she cradled the Prophet, who
+stared solemnly at Barres out of depthless green eyes.
+
+"Upon my word," thought Barres to himself, "I believe I have found a
+model and an uncommon one!"
+
+Dulcie, watching his expression, smiled slightly and stroked the
+Prophet.
+
+"I'll paint you that way! Don't stir," said the young fellow
+pleasantly. "Just stand where you are, Dulcie. You're quite all right
+as you are----" He lifted a half-length canvas, placed it on his heavy
+easel and clamped it.
+
+"I feel exactly like painting," he continued, busy with his brushes
+and colours. "I'm full of it to-day. It's in me. It's got to come
+out.... And you certainly are an interesting subject--with your big
+grey eyes and bobbed red hair--oh, quite interesting constructively,
+too--as well as from the colour point."
+
+He finished setting his palette, gathered up a handful of brushes:
+
+"I won't bother to draw you except with a brush----"
+
+He looked across at her, remained looking, the pleasantly detached
+expression of his features gradually changing to curiosity, to the
+severity of increasing interest, to concentrated and silent
+absorption.
+
+"Dulcie," he presently concluded, "you are so unusually interesting
+and paintable that you make me think very seriously.... And I'm hanged
+if I'm going to waste you by slapping a technically adequate sketch of
+you onto this nice new canvas ... which might give me pleasure while
+I'm doing it ... and might even tickle my vanity for a week ... and
+then be laid away to gather dust ... and be covered over next year and
+used for another sketch.... No.... _No_!... You're worth more than
+that!"
+
+He began to pace the place to and fro, thinking very hard, glancing
+around at her from moment to moment, where she stood, obediently
+immovable on the blue meshed rug, clasping the Prophet to her breast.
+
+"Do you want to become my private model?" he demanded abruptly. "I
+mean seriously. Do you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I mean a real model, from whom I can ask anything?"
+
+"Oh, yes, please," pleaded the girl, trembling a little.
+
+"Do you understand what it means?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Sometimes you'll be required to wear few clothes. Sometimes none. Did
+you know that?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Westmore asked me once."
+
+"You didn't care to?"
+
+"Not for him."
+
+"You don't mind doing it for me?"
+
+"I'll do anything you ask me," she said, trying to smile and shivering
+with excitement.
+
+"All right. It's a bargain. You're my model, Dulcie. When do you
+graduate from school?"
+
+"In June."
+
+"Two months! Well--all right. Until then it will be a half day through
+the week, and all day Saturdays and Sundays, if I require you. You'll
+have a weekly salary----" He smiled and mentioned the figure, and the
+girl blushed vividly. She had, it appeared, expected nothing.
+
+"Why, Dulcie!" he exclaimed, immensely amused. "You didn't intend to
+come here and give me all your time for nothing, did you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But why on earth should you do such a thing for me?"
+
+She found no words to explain why.
+
+"Nonsense," he continued; "you're a business woman now. Your father
+will have to find somebody to cook for him and take the desk when he's
+out at Grogan's. Don't worry; I'll fix it with him.... By the way,
+Dulcie, supposing you sit down."
+
+She found a chair and took the Prophet onto her lap.
+
+"Now, this will be very convenient for me," he went on, inspecting her
+with increasing satisfaction. "If I ever have any orders--any
+sitters--you can have a vacation, of course. Otherwise, I'll always
+have an interesting model at hand--I've got chests full of wonderful
+costumes--genuine ones----" He fell silent, his eyes studying her.
+Already he was planning half a dozen pictures, for he was just
+beginning to perceive how adaptable the girl might be. And there was
+about her that indefinable something which, when a painter discovers
+it, interests him and arouses his intense artistic curiosity.
+
+"You know," he said musingly, "you are something more than pretty,
+Dulcie.... I could put you in eighteenth century clothes and you'd
+look logical. Yes, and in seventeenth century clothes, too.... I could
+do some amusing things with you in oriental garments.... A young
+Herodiade ... Calypso ... Theodora.... She was a child, too, you know.
+There's a portrait with bobbed hair--a young girl by Van Dyck.... You
+know you are quite stimulating to me, Dulcie. You excite a painter's
+imagination. It's rather odd," he added naïvely, "that I never
+discovered you before; and I've known you over two years."
+
+He had seated himself on the sofa while discoursing. Now he got up,
+touched a bell twice. The Finnish maid, Selinda, with her high
+cheek-bones, frosty blue eyes and colourless hair, appeared in cap and
+apron.
+
+"Selinda," he said, "take Miss Dulcie into my room. In a long, leather
+Turkish box on the third shelf of my clothes closet is a silk and gold
+costume and a lot of jade jewelry. Please put her into it."
+
+So Dulcie Soane went away with her cat in her arms, beside the neat
+and frosty-eyed Selinda; and Barres opened a portfolio of engravings,
+where were gathered the lovely aristocrats of Van Dyck and Rubens and
+Gainsborough and his contemporaries--a charmingly mixed company,
+separated by centuries and frontiers, yet all characterised by a
+common _something_--some inexplicable similarity which Barres
+recognised without defining.
+
+"It's rather amusing," he murmured, "but that kid, Dulcie, seems to
+remind me of these people--somehow or other.... One scarcely looks for
+qualities in the child of an Irish janitor.... I wonder who her mother
+was...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When he looked up again Dulcie was standing there on the thick rug. On
+her naked feet were jade bracelets, jade-set rings on her little toes;
+a cascade of jade and gold falling over her breasts to the straight,
+narrow breadth of peacock hue which fell to her ankles. And on her
+childish head, clasping the ruddy bobbed hair, glittered the
+jade-incrusted diadem of a fairy princess of Cathay.
+
+[Illustration: "YOU LITTLE MIRACLE!"]
+
+The Prophet, gathered close to her breast, stared back at Barres with
+eyes that dimmed the splendid jade about him.
+
+"That settles it," he said, the tint of excitement rising in his
+cheeks. "I _have_ discovered a model and a wonder! And right here is
+where I paint my winter Academy--right here and right now!... And I
+call it 'The Prophets.' Climb up on that model stand and squat there
+cross-legged, and stare at me--straight at me--the way your cat
+stares!... There you are. That's right! Don't move. Stay put or I'll
+come over and bow-string you!--you little miracle!"
+
+"Do--you mean me?" faltered Dulcie.
+
+"You bet, Sweetness! Do you know how beautiful you are? Well, never
+mind----" He had begun already to draw with a wet brush, and now he
+relapsed into absorbed silence.
+
+The Prophet watched him steadily. The studio became intensely still.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+DULCIE ANSWERS
+
+
+The studio door bell rang while Barres was at breakfast one morning
+late in June. Aristocrates leisurely answered the door, but shut it
+again immediately and walked out into the kitchenette without any
+explanation.
+
+Selinda removed the breakfast cover and fetched the newspaper. Later,
+Aristocrates, having washed his master's brushes, brought them into
+the studio mincingly, upon a silver service-salver.
+
+"No letters?" inquired Barres, glancing up over the morning paper and
+laying aside his cigarette.
+
+"No letters, suh. No co'espondence in any shape, fo'm or manner,
+suh."
+
+"Anybody to see me?" inquired Barres, always amused at Aristocrates'
+flights of verbiage.
+
+"Nobody, suh, excusin' a persistless 'viduality inquihin' fo' you,
+suh."
+
+"What persistless individuality was that?" asked Barres.
+
+"A ve'y or-nary human objec', suh, pahshially afflicted with one bad
+eye."
+
+"That one-eyed man? He's been here several times, hasn't he? Why does
+he come?"
+
+"Fo' commercial puhposes, suh."
+
+"Oh, a pedlar?"
+
+"He mentions a desiah, suh, to dispose, commercially, of vahious
+impo'ted materials requiahed by ahtists."
+
+"Didn't you show him the sign in the hall, 'No pedlars allowed'?"
+
+"Yaas, suh."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"I would not demean myse'f to repeat what this human objec' said,
+suh."
+
+"And what did you do then?"
+
+"Mistuh Barres, suh, I totally igno'hed that man," replied Aristocrates
+languidly.
+
+"Quite right. But you tell Soane to enforce the rule against pedlars.
+Every day there are two or three of them ringing at the studio, trying
+to sell colours, laces, or fake oriental rugs. It annoys me. Selinda
+can't hear the bell and I have to leave my work and open the door.
+Tell that persistless one-eyed man to keep away. Tell Soane to bounce
+him next time he enters Dragon Court. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yaas, suh. But Soane, suh, he's a might friendly Irish. He's spo'tin'
+'round Grogan's nights, 'longa this here one-eyed 'viduality. Yaas,
+suh. I done seen 'em co-gatherin' on vahious occasionalities."
+
+"Oho!" commented Barres. "It's graft, is it? This one-eyed pedlar
+meets Soane at Grogan's and bribes him with a few drinks to let him
+peddle colours in Dragon Court! That's the Irish of it, Aristocrates.
+I began to suspect something like that. All right. I'll speak to Soane
+myself.... Leave the studio door open; it's warm in here."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The month of May was now turning somewhat sultry as it melted into
+June. Every pivot-pane in the big studio window had been swung wide
+open. The sun had already clothed every courtyard tree with dense and
+tender foliage; hyacinth and tulip were gone and Soane's subscription
+geraniums blazed in their place like beds of coals heaped up on the
+grass plot of Dragon Court.
+
+But blue sky, sunshine of approaching summer, gentle winds and
+freshening rains brought only restlessness to New Yorkers that month
+of May.
+
+Like the first two years of the war, the present year seemed strange,
+unreal; its vernal breezes brought no balm, its blue skies no content.
+The early summer sunlight seemed almost uncanny in a world where,
+beyond the sea, millions of men at arms swayed ceaselessly under sun
+and moon alike, interlocked in one gigantic death grip!--a horrible
+and blood-drenched human chain of butchery stretching half around the
+earth.
+
+Into every Western human eye had come strange and subtle shadows which
+did not depart with moments of forgetful mirth, intervals of
+self-absorption, hours filled with familiar interests--the passions,
+hopes, perplexities of those years which were now no more.
+
+Those years of yesterdays! A vast and depthless cleft already divided
+them from to-day. They seemed as remote as dusty centuries--those days
+of an ordered and tranquil world--those days of little obvious faiths
+unshattered--even those days of little wars, of petty local strifes,
+of an almost universal calm and peace and trust in brotherhood and in
+the obligations of civilisation.
+
+Familiar yesterday had vanished, its creeds forgotten. It was already
+decades away, and fading like a legend in the ever-increasing glare of
+the red and present moment.
+
+And the month of May seemed strange, and its soft skies and sun seemed
+out of place in a world full of dying--a world heavy with death--a
+western world aloof from the raging hell beyond the seas, yet already
+tense under the distant threat of three continents in flames--and all
+aquiver before the deathly menace of that horde of blood-crazed demons
+still at large, still unsubdued, still ranging the ruins of the planet
+which they had so insanely set on fire.
+
+Entire nations were still burning beyond the ocean; other nations had
+sunk into cinders. Over the Eastern seas the furnace breath began to
+be felt along the out-thrust coast lines of the Western World. Inland,
+not yet; but every seaward city became now conscious of that first
+faint warning wave of heat from hell. Millions of ears strained to
+catch the first hushed whisper of the tumult. Silent in its suspense
+the Great Republic listened. Only the priesthood of the deaf and
+wooden gods continued voluble. But Israel had already begun to lift up
+its million eyes; and its ancient faith began to glow again; and its
+trust was becoming once more a living thing--the half-forgotten trust
+of Israel in that half-forgotten Lord, who, in the beginning, had been
+their helper and their shield.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Through the open studio door came Dulcie Soane. The Prophet followed
+at her slender heels, gently waving an urbane tail.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After his first smiling greeting--he always rose, advanced, and took
+her hand with that pleasant appearance of formality so adored by
+femininity, youthful or mature--he resumed his seat and continued to
+write his letters.
+
+These finished, he stamped them, rang for Aristocrates, picked up his
+palette and brushes, and pulled out the easel upon which was the
+canvas for the morning.
+
+Dulcie, still in the hands of Selinda, had not yet emerged. The
+Prophet sat upright on the carved table, motionless as a cat of ebony
+with green-jewelled eyes.
+
+"Well, old sport," said Barres, stepping across the rug to caress the
+cat, "you and your pretty mistress begin to look very interesting on
+my canvas."
+
+The Prophet received the blandishments with dignified gratitude. A
+discreet and feathery purring filled the room as Barres stroked the
+jet black, silky fur.
+
+"Fine cat, you are," commented the young man, turning as Dulcie
+entered.
+
+She laid one hand on his extended arm and sprang lightly to the model
+stand. And the next moment she was seated--a slim, gemmed thing
+glimmering with imperial jade from top to toe.
+
+Barres laid the Prophet in her arms, stepped back while Dulcie
+arranged the docile cat, then retreated to his canvas.
+
+"All right, Sweetness?"
+
+"All right," replied the child happily. And the morning séance was
+on.
+
+Barres was usually inclined to ramble along conversationally in his
+pleasant, detached way while at work, particularly if work went well.
+
+"Where were we yesterday, Dulcie? Oh, yes; we were talking about the
+Victorian era and its art; and we decided that it was not the barren
+desert that the ultra-moderns would have us believe. That's what we
+decided, wasn't it?"
+
+"_You_ decided," she said.
+
+"So did you, Dulcie. It was a unanimous decision. Because we both
+concluded that some among the Victorians were full of that sweet,
+clean sanity which alone endures. You recollect how our decision
+started?"
+
+"Yes. It was about my new pleasure in Tennyson, Browning, Morris,
+Arnold, and Swinburne."
+
+"Exactly. Victorian poets, if sometimes a trifle stilted and
+self-conscious, wrote nobly; makers of Victorian prose displayed
+qualities of breadth, imagination and vision and a technical
+cultivation unsurpassed. The musical compositions of that epoch were
+melodious and sometimes truly inspired; never brutal, never vulgar,
+never degenerate. And the Victorian sculptors and painters--at first
+perhaps austerely pedantic--became, as they should be, recorders of
+the times and customs of thought, bringing the end of the reign of a
+great Queen to an admirable renaissance."
+
+Dulcie's grey eyes never left his. And if she did not quite understand
+every word, already the dawning familiarity with his vocabulary and a
+general comprehension of his modes of self-expansion permitted her to
+follow him.
+
+"A great Queen, a great reign, a great people," he rambled on,
+painting away all the while. "And if in that era architecture declined
+toward its lowest level of stupidity, and if taste in furniture and in
+the plastic, decorative, and textile arts was steadily sinking toward
+its lowest ebb, and if Mrs. Grundy trudged the Empire, paramount, dull
+and smugly ferocious, while all snobbery saluted her and the humble
+grovelled before her dusty brogans, yet, Dulcie, it was a great era.
+
+"It was great because its faith had not been radically impaired; it
+was sane because Germany had not yet inoculated the human race with
+its porcine political vulgarities, its bestial degeneracy in art....
+And if, perhaps, the sentimental in British art and literature
+predominated, thank God it had not yet been tainted with the stark
+ugliness, the swinish nakedness, the ferocious leer of things
+Teutonic!"
+
+He continued to paint in silence for a while. Presently the Prophet
+yawned on Dulcie's knees, displaying a pink cavern.
+
+"Better rest," he said, nodding smilingly at Dulcie. She released the
+cat, who stretched, arched his back, yawned again gravely, and stalked
+away over the velvety Eastern carpet.
+
+Dulcie got up lithely and followed him on little jade-encrusted, naked
+feet.
+
+A box of bon-bons lay on the sofa; she picked up Rossetti's poems,
+turned the leaves with jewel-laden fingers, while with the other hand
+she groped for a bon-bon, her grey eyes riveted on the pages before
+her.
+
+During these intervals between poses it was the young man's custom to
+make chalk sketches of the girl, recording swiftly any unstudied
+attitude, any unconscious phase of youthful grace that interested
+him.
+
+Dulcie, in the beginning, diffidently aware of this, had now become
+entirely accustomed to it, and no longer felt any responsibility to
+remain motionless while he was busy with red chalk or charcoal.
+
+When she had rested sufficiently, she laid aside her book, hunted up
+the Prophet, who lazily endured the gentle tyranny, and resumed her
+place on the model stand.
+
+And so they worked away all the morning, until luncheon was served in
+the studio by Aristocrates; and Barres in his blouse, and Dulcie in
+her peacock silk, her jade, and naked feet, gravely or lightly as
+their moods dictated, discussed an omelette and a pot of tea or
+chocolate, and the ways and manners and customs of a world which
+Dulcie now was discovering as a brand new and most enchanting planet.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+HER DAY
+
+
+June was ending in a very warm week. Work in the studio lagged, partly
+because Dulcie, preparing for graduation, could give Barres little
+time; partly because, during June, that young man had been away
+spending the week-ends with his parents and his sister at Foreland
+Farms, their home.
+
+From one of these visits he returned to the city just in time to read
+a frantic little note from Dulcie Soane:
+
+  "DEAR MR. BARRES, please, _please_ come to my graduation. I do
+  want _somebody_ there who knows me. And my father is not well. Is
+  it too much to ask of you? I hadn't the courage to speak to you
+  about it when you were here, but I have ventured to write because
+  it will be so lonely for me to graduate without having anybody
+  there I know.
+
+  "DULCIE SOANE."
+
+It was still early in the morning; he had taken a night train to
+town.
+
+So when he had been freshened by a bath and change of linen, he took
+his hat and went down stairs.
+
+A heavy, pasty-visaged young woman sat at the desk in the entrance
+hall.
+
+"Where is Soane?" he inquired.
+
+"He's sick."
+
+"_Where_ is he?"
+
+"In bed," she replied indifferently. The woman's manner just
+verged on impertinence. He hesitated, then walked across to the
+superintendent's apartments and entered without knocking.
+
+Soane, in his own room, lay sleeping off the consequences of an
+evening at Grogan's. One glance was sufficient for Barres, and he
+walked out.
+
+On Madison Avenue he found a florist, selected a bewildering bouquet,
+and despatched it with a hasty note, by messenger, to Dulcie at her
+school. In the note he wrote:
+
+"I shall be there. Cheer up!"
+
+He also sent more flowers to his studio, with pencilled orders to
+Aristocrates.
+
+In a toy-shop he found an appropriate decoration for the centre of the
+lunch table.
+
+Later, in a jeweller's, he discovered a plain gold locket, shaped like
+a heart and inset with one little diamond. A slender chain by which to
+suspend it was easily chosen; and an extra payment admitted him to the
+emergency department where he looked on while an expert engraved upon
+the locket: "Dulcie Soane from Garret Barres," and the date.
+
+After that he went into the nearest telephone booth and called up
+several people, inviting them to dine with him that evening.
+
+It was nearly ten o'clock now. He took his little gift, stopped a
+taxi, and arrived at the big brick high-school just in time to enter
+with the last straggling parents and family friends.
+
+The hall was big and austerely bare, except for the ribbons and flags
+and palms which decorated it. It was hot, too, though all the great
+blank windows had been swung open wide.
+
+The usual exercises had already begun; there were speeches from
+Authority; prayers by Divinity; choral effects by graduating
+pulchritude.
+
+The class, attired in white, appeared to average much older than
+Dulcie. He could see her now, in her reconstructed communion dress,
+holding the big bouquet which he had sent her, one madonna lily of
+which she had detached and pinned over her breast.
+
+Her features were composed and delicately flushed; her bobbed hair was
+tucked up, revealing the snowy neck.
+
+One girl after another advanced and read or spoke, performing the
+particular parlour trick assigned her in the customary and perfectly
+unremarkable manner characteristic of such affairs.
+
+Rapturous parental demonstrations greeted each effort; piano, violin
+and harp filled in nobly. A slight haze of dust, incident to
+pedalistic applause, invaded the place; there was an odour of flowers
+in the heated atmosphere.
+
+Glancing at a programme which he had found on his seat, Barres read:
+"Song: Dulcie Soane."
+
+Looking up at her where she sat on the stage, among her comrades in white,
+he noticed that her eyes were busy searching the audience--possibly
+for him, he thought, experiencing an oddly pleasant sensation at the
+possibility.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The time at length arrived for Dulcie to do her parlour trick;
+she rose and came forward, clasping the big, fragrant bouquet,
+prettily flushed but self-possessed. The harp began a little minor
+prelude--something Irish and not very modern. Then Dulcie's pure,
+untrained voice stole winningly through the picked harp-strings'
+hesitation:
+
+      "Heart of a colleen,
+  Where do you roam?
+      Heart of a colleen,
+  Far from your home?
+  Laden with love you stole from her breast!
+  Wandering dove, return to your nest!
+
+      Sodgers are sailin'
+  Away to the wars;
+      Ladies are wailin'
+  Their woe to the stars;
+  Why is the heart of you straying so soon--
+  Heart that was part of you, Eileen Aroon?
+
+      Lost to a sodger,
+  Gone is my heart!
+      Lost to a sodger,
+  Now we must part----
+  I and my heart--for it journeys afar
+  Along with the sodgers who sail to the war!
+
+      Tears that near blind me
+  My pride shall dry,----
+      Wisha! don't mind me!
+  Lave a lass cry!
+  Only a sodger can whistle the tune
+  That coaxes the heart out of Eileen Aroon!"
+
+And Dulcie's song ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Almost instantly the audience had divined in the words she sang a
+significance which concerned them--a warning--perhaps a prophecy. The
+69th Regiment of New York infantry was Irish, and nearly every seat in
+the hall held a relative of some young fellow serving in its ranks.
+
+The applause was impulsive, stormy, persistent; the audience was
+demanding the young girl's recall; the noise they made became
+overwhelming, checking the mediating music and baffling the next
+embarrassed graduate, scheduled to read an essay, and who stood there
+mute, her manuscript in her hand.
+
+Finally the principal of the school arose, went over to Dulcie, and
+exchanged a few words with her. Then he came forward, hand lifted in
+appeal for silence.
+
+"The music and words of the little song you have just heard," he said,
+"were written, I have just learned, by the mother of the girl who sang
+them. They were written in Ireland a number of years ago, when Irish
+regiments were sent away for over-seas service. Neither words nor song
+have ever been published. Miss Soane found them among her mother's
+effects.
+
+"I thought the story of the little song might interest you. For,
+somehow, I feel--as I think you all feel--that perhaps the day may
+come--may be near--when the hearts of our women, too, shall be given
+to their soldiers--sons, brothers, fathers--who are 'sailin' away to
+the wars.' But if that time comes--which God avert!--then I know that
+every man here will do his duty.... And every woman.... And I know
+that:
+
+  'Tears that near blind you,
+  Your pride shall dry!----'"
+
+He paused a moment:
+
+"Miss Soane has prepared no song to sing as an encore. In her behalf,
+and in my own, I thank you for your appreciation. Be kind enough to
+permit the exercises to proceed."
+
+And the graduating exercises continued.
+
+Barres waited for Dulcie. She came out among the first of those
+departing, walking all alone in her reconstructed white dress, and
+carrying his bouquet. When she caught sight of him, her face became
+radiant and she made her way toward him through the crowd, seeking his
+outstretched hand with hers, clinging to it in a passion of gratitude
+and emotion that made her voice tremulous:
+
+"My bouquet--it is so wonderful! I love every flower in it! Thank you
+with all my heart. You are so kind to have come--so kind to me--so
+k-kind----"
+
+"It is I who should be grateful, Dulcie, for your charming little
+song," he insisted. "It was fascinating and exquisitely done."
+
+"Did you really like it?" she asked shyly.
+
+"Indeed I did! And I quite fell in love with your voice, too--with
+that trick you seem to possess of conveying a hint of tears through
+some little grace-note now and then.... And there _were_ tears hidden
+in the words; and in the melody, too.... And to think that your mother
+wrote it!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+After a short interval of silence he released her hand.
+
+"I have a taxi for you," he said gaily. "We'll drive home in state."
+
+The girl flushed again with surprise and gratitude:
+
+"Are--are _you_ coming, too?"
+
+"Certainly I'm going to take you home. Don't you belong to me?" he
+demanded laughingly.
+
+"Yes," she said. But her forced little smile made the low-voiced
+answer almost solemn.
+
+"Well, then!" he said cheerfully. "Come along. What's mine I look
+after. We'll have lunch together in the studio, if you are too proud
+to pose for a poor artist this afternoon."
+
+At this her sensitive face cleared and she laughed happily.
+
+"The pride of a high-school graduate!" he commented, as he seated
+himself beside her in the taxicab. "Can anything equal it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Her pride in your--friendship," she ventured.
+
+Which unexpected reply touched and surprised him.
+
+"You dear child!" he said; "I'm proud of your friendship, too. Nothing
+ought to make a man prouder than winning a young girl's confidence."
+
+"You are so kind," she sighed, touching the blossoms in her bouquet
+with slender fingers that trembled a little. For she would have
+offered him a flower from it had she found courage; but it seemed
+presumptuous and she dropped her hand into her lap again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aristocrates opened the door for them: Selinda took her away.
+
+Barres had ordered flowers for the table. In the middle of it a doll
+stood, attired in academic cap and gown, the Stars and Stripes in one
+hand, in the other a green flag bearing a gold harp.
+
+When Dulcie came in she stopped short, enchanted at the sight of the
+decorated table. But when Aristocrates opened the kitchen door and her
+three cats came trotting in, she was overcome.
+
+For each cat wore a red, white and blue cravat on which was pinned a
+silk shamrock; and although Strindberg immediately keeled over on the
+rug and madly attacked her cravat with her hind toes, the general
+effect remained admirable.
+
+Aristocrates seated Dulcie. Upon her plate was the box containing
+chain and locket. And the girl cast a swift, inquiring glance across
+the centre flowers at Barres.
+
+"Yes, it's for you, Dulcie," he said.
+
+She turned quite pale at sight of the little gift. After a silence she
+leaned on the table with both elbows, shading her face with her
+hands.
+
+He let her alone--let the first tense moment in her youthful life ebb
+out of it; nor noticed, apparently, the furtive and swift touch of her
+best handkerchief to her closed eyes.
+
+Aristocrates brought her a little glass of frosted orange juice. After
+an interval, not looking at Barres, she sipped it. Then she took the
+locket and chain from the satin-lined box, read the inscription,
+closed her lids for a second's silent ecstasy, opened them looking at
+him through rapturous tears, and with her eyes still fixed on him
+lifted the chain and fastened it around her slender neck.
+
+The luncheon then proceeded, the Prophet gravely assisting from the
+vantage point of a neighbouring chair, the Houri, more emotional,
+promenading earnestly at the heels of Aristocrates. As for Strindberg,
+she possessed neither manners nor concentration, and she alternately
+squalled her desires for food or frisked all over the studio,
+attempting complicated maneuvres with every curtain-cord and tassel
+within reach.
+
+Dulcie had found her voice again--a low, uncertain, tremulous little
+voice when she tried to thank him for the happiness he had given
+her--a clearer, firmer voice when he dexterously led the conversation
+into channels more familiar and serene.
+
+They talked of the graduating exercises, of her part in them, of her
+classmates, of education in general.
+
+She told him that since she was quite young she had learned to play
+the piano by remaining for an hour every day after school, and
+receiving instruction from a young teacher who needed a little extra
+pin money.
+
+As for singing, she had had no instruction. Her voice had never been
+tried, never been cultivated.
+
+"We'll have it tried some day," he said casually.
+
+But Dulcie shook her head, explaining that it was an expensive process
+and not to be thought of.
+
+"How did you pay for your piano lessons?" he asked.
+
+"I paid twenty-five cents an hour. My mother left a little money for
+me when I was a baby. I spent it all that way."
+
+"Every bit of it?"
+
+"Yes. I had $500. It lasted me seven years--from the time I was ten to
+now."
+
+"_Are_ you seventeen? You don't look it."
+
+"I know I don't. My teachers tell me that my mind is very quick but my
+body is slow. It annoys me to be mistaken for a child of fifteen. And
+I have to dress that way, too, because my dresses still fit me and
+clothes are very expensive."
+
+"Are they?"
+
+Dulcie became confidential and loquacious:
+
+"Oh, very. You don't know about girls' clothes, I suppose. But they
+cost a very great deal. So I've had to wear out dresses I've had ever
+since I was fourteen and fifteen. And so I can't put up my hair
+because it would make my dresses look ridiculous; and that renders the
+situation all the worse--to be obliged to go about with bobbed hair,
+you see? There doesn't seem to be any way out of it," she ended, with
+a despairing little laugh, "and I was seventeen last February!"
+
+"Cheer up! You'll grow old fast enough. And now you're going to have a
+jolly little salary as my model, and you ought to be able to buy
+suitable clothes. Oughtn't you?"
+
+She did not answer, and he repeated the question. And drew from her,
+reluctantly, that her father, so far, had absorbed what money she had
+earned by posing.
+
+A dull red gathered under the young man's cheek-bones, but he said
+carelessly:
+
+"That won't do. I'll talk it over with your father. I'm very sure
+he'll agree with me that you should bank your salary and draw out what
+you need for your personal expenses."
+
+Dulcie sat silent over her fruit and bon-bons. Reaction from the keen
+emotions of the day had, perhaps, begun to have their effect.
+
+They rose and reseated themselves on the sofa, where she sat in the
+corner among gorgeous Chinese cushions, her reconstructed dress now
+limp and shabby, the limp madonna lily hanging from her breast.
+
+It had been for her the happiest day of her life. It had dawned the
+loneliest, but under the magic of this man's kindness the day was
+ending like a day in Paradise.
+
+To Dulcie, however, happiness was less dependent upon receiving than
+upon giving; and like all things feminine, mature and immature, she
+desired to serve where her heart was enlisted--began to experience the
+restless desire to give. What? And as the question silently presented
+itself, she looked up at Barres:
+
+"Could I pose for you?"
+
+"On a day like this! Nonsense, Dulcie. This is your holiday."
+
+"I'd really like to--if you want me----"
+
+"No. Curl up here and take a nap. Slip off your gown so you won't muss
+it and ask Selinda for a kimono. Because you're going to need your
+gown this evening," he added smilingly.
+
+"Why? _Please_ tell me why?"
+
+"No. You've had enough excitement. Tell Selinda to give you a kimono.
+Then you can lie down in my room if you like. Selinda will call you in
+plenty of time. And after that I'll tell you how we're going to bring
+your holiday to a gay conclusion."
+
+She seemed disinclined to stir, curled up there, her eyes brilliant
+with curiosity, her lips a trifle parted in a happy smile. She lay
+that way for a few moments, looking up at him, her fingers caressing
+the locket, then she sat up swiftly.
+
+"Must I take a nap?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+She sprang to her feet, flashed past him, and disappeared in the
+corridor.
+
+"Don't forget to wake me!" she called back.
+
+"I won't forget!"
+
+When he heard her voice again, conversing with Selinda, he opened the
+studio door and went down stairs.
+
+Soane, rather the worse for wear, was at the desk, and, standing
+beside him, was a one-eyed man carrying two pedlar's boxes under his
+arms. They both looked around quickly when Barres appeared. Before he
+reached the desk the one-eyed man turned and walked out hastily into
+the street.
+
+"Soane," said Barres, "I've one or two things to say to you. The first
+is this: if you don't stop drinking and if you don't keep away from
+Grogan's, you'll lose your job here."
+
+"Musha, then, Misther Barres----"
+
+"Wait a moment; I'm not through. I advise you to stop drinking and to
+keep away from Grogan's. That's the first thing. And next, go on and
+graft as much as you like, only warn your pedlar-friends to keep away
+from Studio No. 9. Do you understand?"
+
+"F'r the love o' God----"
+
+"Cut out the injured innocence, Soane. I'm telling you how to avoid
+trouble, that's all."
+
+"Misther Barres, sorr! As God sees me----"
+
+"I can see you, too. I want you to behave, Soane. This is friendly
+advice. That one-eyed pedlar who just beat it has been bothering me.
+Other pedlars come ringing at the studio and interrupt and annoy me.
+You know the rules. If the other tenants care to stand for it, all
+right. But I'm through. Is that plain?"
+
+"It is, sorr," said the unabashed delinquent. The faintest glimmer of
+a grin came into his battered eyes. "Sorra a wan o' thim ever lays a
+hand to No. 9 bell or I'll have his life!"
+
+"One thing more," continued Barres, smiling in spite of himself at the
+Irish of it all. "I am paying Dulcie a salary----"
+
+"Wisha then----"
+
+"Stop! I tell you that she's in my employment on a salary. Don't ever
+touch a penny of it again."
+
+"Sure the child's wages----"
+
+"No, they _don't_ belong to the father. Legally, perhaps, but the law
+doesn't suit me. So if you take the money that she earns, and blow it
+in at Grogan's, I'll have to discharge her because I won't stand for
+what you are doing."
+
+"Would you do that, Mr. Barres?"
+
+"I certainly would."
+
+The Irishman scratched his curly head in frank perplexity.
+
+"Dulcie needs clothes suitable to her age," continued Barres. "She
+needs other things. I'm going to take charge of her savings so don't
+you attempt to tamper with them. You wouldn't do such a thing, anyway,
+Soane, if this miserable drink habit hadn't got a hold on you. If you
+don't quit, it will down you. You'll lose your place here. You know
+that. Try to brace up. This is a rotten deal you're giving yourself
+and your daughter."
+
+Soane wept easily. He wept now. Tearful volubility followed--picturesque,
+lit up with Hibernian flashes, then rambling, and a hint of slyness in
+it which kept one weeping eye on duty watching Barres all the while.
+
+"All right; behave yourself," concluded Barres. "And, Soane, I shall
+have three or four people to dinner and a little dancing afterward. I
+want Dulcie to enjoy her graduating dance."
+
+"Sure, Misther Barres, you're that kind to the child----"
+
+"_Somebody_ ought to be. Do you know that there was nobody she knew to
+see her graduate to-day, excepting myself?"
+
+"Oh, the poor darling! Sure, I was that busy----"
+
+"Busy sleeping off a souse," said Barres drily. "And by the way, who
+is that stolid, German-looking girl who alternates with you here at
+the desk?"
+
+"Miss Kurtz, sorr."
+
+"Oh. She seems stupid. Where did you dig her up?"
+
+"A fri'nd o' mine riccominds her highly, sorr."
+
+"Is that so? Who is he? One of your German pedlar friends at Grogan's?
+Be careful, Soane. You Sinn Feiners are headed for trouble."
+
+He turned and mounted the stairs. Soane looked after him with an
+uneasy expression, partly humorous.
+
+"Ah, then, Mr. Barres," he said, "don't be botherin' afther the likes
+of us poor Irish. Is there anny harrm in a sup o' beer av a Dootchman
+pays?"
+
+Barres looked back at him:
+
+"A one-eyed Dutchman?"
+
+"Ah, g'wan, sorr, wid yer hokin' an' jokin'! Is it graft ye say? An'
+how can ye say it, sorr, knowin' me as ye do, Misther Barres?"
+
+The impudent grin on the Irishman's face was too much for the young
+man. He continued to mount the stairs, laughing.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+HER EVENING
+
+
+As he entered the studio he heard the telephone ringing. Presently
+Selinda marched in:
+
+"A lady, sir, who will not giff her name, desires to spik to Mr.
+Barres."
+
+"I don't talk to anonymous people," he said curtly.
+
+"I shall tell her, sir?"
+
+"Certainly. Did you make Miss Dulcie comfortable?"
+
+"Yess, sir."
+
+"That's right. Now, take that dress of Miss Dulcie's, go out to some
+shop on Fifth Avenue, buy a pretty party gown of similar dimensions,
+and bring it back with you. Take a taxi both ways. Wait--take her
+stockings and slippers, too, and buy her some fine ones. And some
+underwear suitable." He went to a desk, unlocked it, and handed the
+maid a flat packet of bank-notes. "Be sure the things are nice," he
+insisted.
+
+Selinda, starched, immaculate, frosty-eyed, marched out. She returned
+a few moments later, wearing jacket and hat.
+
+"Sir, the lady on the telephone hass called again. The lady would
+inquire of Mr. Barres if perhaps he has recollection of the Fountain
+of Marie de Médicis."
+
+Barres reddened with surprise and pleasure:
+
+"Oh! Yes, indeed, I'll speak to _that_ lady. Hang up the service
+receiver, Selinda." And he stepped to the studio telephone.
+
+"Nihla?" he exclaimed in a low, eager voice.
+
+"C'est moi, Thessa! Have you a letter from me?"
+
+"No, you little wretch! Oh, Thessa, you're certainly a piker! Fancy my
+not hearing one word from you since April!--not a whisper, not a sign
+to tell me that you are alive----"
+
+"Garry, hush! It was not because I did not wish to see you----"
+
+"Yes, it was! You knew bally well that I hadn't your address and that
+you had mine! Is that what you call friendship?"
+
+"You don't understand what you are saying. I wanted to see you. It has
+been impossible----"
+
+"You are not singing and dancing anywhere in New York. I watched the
+papers. I even went to the Palace of Mirrors to enquire if you had
+signed with them there."
+
+"Wait! Be careful, please!----"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Be careful what you say over the telephone. For my sake, Garry. Don't
+use my former name or say anything to identify me with any place or
+profession. I've been in trouble. I'm in trouble still. Had you no
+letter from me this morning?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That is disquieting news. I posted a letter to you last night. You
+should have had it in your morning mail."
+
+"No letter has come from you. I had no letters at all in the morning
+mail, and only one or two important business letters since."
+
+"Then I'm deeply worried. I shall have to see you unless that letter
+is delivered to you by evening."
+
+"Splendid! But you'll have to come to me, Thessa. I've invited a few
+people to dine here and dance afterwards. If you'll dine with us, I'll
+get another man to balance the table. Will you?"
+
+After a moment she said:
+
+"Yes. What time?"
+
+"Eight! This is wonderful of you, Thessa!" he said excitedly. "If
+you're in trouble we'll clear it up between us. I'm so happy that you
+will give me this proof of friendship."
+
+"You dear boy," she said in a troubled voice. "I should be more of a
+friend if I kept away from you."
+
+"Nonsense! You promise, don't you?"
+
+"Yes ... Do you realise that to-night another summer moon is to
+witness our reunion?... I shall come to you once more under a full
+June moon.... And then, perhaps, no more.... Never.... Unless after
+the world ends I come to you through shadowy outer space--a ghost
+drifting--a shred of mist across the moon, seeking you once
+more!----"
+
+"My poor child," he said laughing, "you must be in no end of low
+spirits to talk that way."
+
+"It does sound morbid. But I have plenty of courage, Garry. I shall
+not snivel on the starched bosom of your evening shirt when we meet.
+Donc, à bientôt, monsieur. Soyez tranquille! You shall not be ashamed
+of me among your guests."
+
+"Fancy!" he laughed happily. "Don't worry, Thessa. We'll fix up
+whatever bothers you. Eight o'clock! Don't forget!"
+
+"I am not likely to," she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Until Selinda returned from her foray along Fifth Avenue, Barres
+remained in the studio, lying in his armchair, still possessed by the
+delightful spell, still excited by the prospect of seeing Thessalie
+Dunois again, here, under his own roof.
+
+But when the slant-eyed and spotlessly blond Finn arrived, he came
+back out of his retrospective trance.
+
+"Did you get some pretty things for Miss Soane?" he enquired.
+
+"Yess, sir, be-ootiful." Selinda deposited on the table a sheaf of
+paid bills and the balance of the bank-notes. "Would Mr. Barres be
+kind enough to inspect the clothes for Miss Soane?"
+
+"No, thanks. You say they're all right?"
+
+"Yess, sir. They are heavenly be-ootiful."
+
+"Very well. Tell Aristocrates to lay out my clothes after you have
+dressed Miss Dulcie. There will be two extra people to dinner. Tell
+Aristocrates. Is Miss Dulcie still asleep?"
+
+"Yess, sir."
+
+"All right. Wake her in time to dress her so she can come out here and
+give me a chance----" He glanced at the clock "Better wake her now,
+Selinda. It's time for her to dress and evacuate my quarters. I'll
+take forty winks here until she's ready."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres lay dozing on the sofa when Dulcie came in.
+
+Selinda, enraptured by her own efficiency in grooming and attiring the
+girl, marched behind her, unable to detach herself from her own
+handiwork.
+
+From crown to heel the transfiguration was absolute--from the point of
+her silk slipper to the topmost curl on the head which Selinda had
+dressed to perfection.
+
+For Selinda had been a lady's maid in great houses, and also had a
+mania for grooming herself with the minute and thorough devotion of a
+pedigreed cat. And Dulcie emerged from her hands like some youthful
+sea-nymph out of a bath of foam, snowy-sweet as some fresh and
+slender flower.
+
+With a shy courage born with her own transfiguration, she went to
+Barres, where he lay on the sofa, and bent over him.
+
+She had made no sound; perhaps her nearness awoke him, for he opened
+his eyes.
+
+"Dulcie!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Do I please you?" she whispered.
+
+He sat up abruptly.
+
+"You wonderful child!" he said, frankly astonished. Whereupon he got
+off the sofa, walked all around her inspecting her.
+
+"What a get-up! What a girl!" he murmured. "You lovely little thing,
+you astound me! Selinda, you certainly know a thing or two. Take it
+from me, you do Miss Soane and yourself more credit in your way than I
+do with paint and canvas."
+
+Dulcie blushed vividly; the white skin of Selinda also reddened with
+pleasure at her master's enthusiasm.
+
+"Tell Aristocrates to fix my bath and lay out my clothes," he said.
+"I've guests coming and I've got to hustle!" And to Dulcie: "We're
+going to have a little party in honour of your graduation. That's what
+I have to tell you, dear. Does it please you? Do your pretty clothes
+please you?"
+
+The girl, overwhelmed, could only look at him. Her lips, vivid and
+slightly parted, quivered as her breath came irregularly. But she
+found no words--nothing to say except in the passionate gratitude of
+her grey eyes.
+
+"You dear child," he said gently. Then, after a moment's silence, he
+eased the tension with his quick smile: "Wonder-child, go and seat
+yourself very carefully, and be jolly careful you don't rumple your
+frock, because I want you to astonish one or two people this
+evening."
+
+Dulcie found her voice:
+
+"I--I'm so astonished at myself that I don't seem real. I seem to be
+somebody else--long ago!" She stepped close to him, opened her locket
+for his inspection, holding it out to him as far as the chain
+permitted. It framed a miniature of a red-haired, grey-eyed girl of
+sixteen.
+
+"Your mother, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes. How perfectly it fits into my locket! I carry it always in my
+purse."
+
+"It might easily be yourself, Dulcie," he said in a low voice. "You
+are her living image."
+
+"Yes. That is what astonishes me. To-night, for the first time in my
+life, it occurred to me that I look like this girl picture of my
+mother."
+
+"You never thought so before?"
+
+"Never." She stood looking down at the laughing face in the locket for
+a few moments, then, lifting her eyes to his:
+
+"I've been made over, in a day, to look like this.... You did it!"
+
+"Nonsense! Selinda and her curling iron did it."
+
+They laughed a little.
+
+"No," she said, "you have made me. You began to make me all over three
+months ago--oh, longer ago than that!--you began to remake me the
+first time you ever spoke to me--the first time you opened your door
+to me. That was nearly two years ago. And ever since I have been
+slowly becoming somebody quite new--inside and outside--until
+to-night, you see, I begin to look like my mother." She smiled at him,
+drew a deep breath, closed the locket, dropped it on her breast.
+
+"I mustn't keep you," she said. "I wanted to show the picture--so you
+can understand what you have done for me to make me look like that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Barres returned to the studio, freshened and groomed for the
+evening, he found Dulcie at the piano, playing the little song she had
+sung that morning, and singing the words under her breath. But she
+ceased as he came up, and swung around on the piano-stool to confront
+him with the most radiant smile he had ever seen on a human face.
+
+"What a day this has been!" she said, clasping her hands tightly. "I
+simply cannot make it seem real."
+
+He laughed:
+
+"It isn't ended yet, either. There's a night to every day, you know.
+And your graduation party will begin in a few moments."
+
+"I know. I'm fearfully excited. You'll stay near me, won't you?"
+
+"You bet! Did I tell you who are coming? Well, then, you won't feel
+strange, because I've merely asked two or three men who live in Dragon
+Court--men you see every day--Mr. Trenor, Mr. Mandel, and Mr.
+Westmore."
+
+"Oh," she said, relieved.
+
+"Also," he said, "I have asked Miss Souval--that tall, pretty girl who
+sometimes sits for Mr. Trenor--Damaris Souval. You remember her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Also," he continued, "Mr. Mandel wishes to bring a young married
+woman who has developed a violent desire for the artistic and
+informal, but who belongs in the Social Register." He laughed. "It's
+all right if Corot Mandel wants her. Her name is Mrs. Helmund--Elsena
+Helmund. Mr. Trenor is painting her."
+
+Dulcie's face was serious but calm.
+
+"And then, to even the table," concluded Barres smilingly, "I invited
+a girl I knew long ago in Paris. Her name is Thessalie Dunois; and
+she's very lovely to look upon, Dulcie. I am very sure you will like
+her."
+
+There was a silence; then the electric bell rang in the corridor,
+announcing the arrival of the first guest. As Barres rose, Dulcie laid
+her hand on his arm--a swift, involuntary gesture--as though the girl
+were depending on his protection.
+
+The winning appeal touched him and amused him, too.
+
+"Don't worry, dear," he said. "You'll have the prettiest frock in the
+studio--if you need that knowledge to reassure you----"
+
+The corridor door opened and closed. Somebody went into his bedroom
+with Selinda--that being the only available cloak-room for women.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+HER NIGHT
+
+
+"Thessalie Dunois! This is charming of you!" said Barres, crossing the
+studio swiftly and taking her hand in both of his.
+
+"I'm so glad to see you, Garry--" she looked past him across the
+studio at Dulcie, and her voice died out for a moment. "Who is that
+girl?" she enquired under her breath.
+
+"I'll present you----"
+
+"Wait. _Who_ is she?"
+
+"Dulcie Soane----"
+
+"_Soane?_"
+
+"Yes. I'll tell you about her later----"
+
+"In a moment, Garry." Thessalie looked across the room at the girl for
+a second or two longer, then turned a troubled, preoccupied gaze on
+Barres. "Have you a letter from me? I posted it last night."
+
+"Not yet."
+
+The doorbell rang. He could hear more guests entering the corridor
+beyond. A faint smile--the forced smile of courage--altered
+Thessalie's features now, until it became a fixed and pretty mask.
+
+"Contrive to give me a moment alone with you this evening," she
+whispered. "My need is great, Garry."
+
+"Whenever you say! Now?"
+
+"No. I want to talk to that young girl first."
+
+They walked over to where Dulcie stood by the piano, silent and
+self-possessed.
+
+"Thessa," he said, "this is Miss Soane, who graduated from high school
+to-day, and in whose honour I am giving this little party." And to
+Dulcie he said: "Miss Dunois and I were friends when I lived in
+France. Please tell her about your picture, which you and I are
+doing." He turned as he finished speaking, and went forward to welcome
+Esmé Trenor and Damaris Souval, who happened to arrive together.
+
+"Oh, the cunning little girl over there!" exclaimed the tall and
+lovely Damaris, greeting Barres with cordial, outstretched hands.
+"Where did you find such an engaging little thing?"
+
+"You don't recognise her?" he asked, amused.
+
+"I? No. Should I?"
+
+"She's Dulcie Soane, the girl at the desk down-stairs!" said Barres,
+delighted. "This is her party. She has just graduated from high
+school, and she----"
+
+"Belongs to Barres," interrupted Esmé Trenor in his drawling voice.
+"Unusual, isn't she, Damaris?--logical anatomy, ornamental, vague
+development; nice lines, not obvious--like yours, Damaris," he added
+impudently. Then waving his lank hand with its over-polished nails: "I
+like the indefinite accented with one ripping value. Look at that
+hair!--lac and burnt orange rubbed in, smeared, then wiped off with
+the thumb! You follow the intention, Barres?"
+
+"You talk too much, Esmé," interrupted Damaris tartly. "Who is that
+lovely being talking to the little Soane girl, Garry?"
+
+"A friend of my Paris days--Thessalie Dunois----" Again he checked
+himself to turn and greet Corot Mandel, subtle creator and director of
+exotic spectacles--another tall and rather heavily built man, with a
+mop of black and shiny hair, a monocle, and sanguine features slightly
+oriental.
+
+With Corot Mandel had come Elsena Helmund--an attractive woman of
+thoroughbred origin and formal environment, and apparently fed up with
+both. For she frankly preferred "grades" to "registered stock," and
+she prowled through every art and theatrical purlieu from the Mews to
+Westchester, in eternal and unquiet search for an antidote to the
+sex-ennui which she erroneously believed to be an intellectual
+necessity for self-expression.
+
+"Who is that winning child with red hair?" she enquired, nodding
+informal recognition to the other guests, whom she already knew.
+"Don't tell me," she added, elevating a quizzing glass and staring at
+Dulcie, "that this engaging infant has a history already! It isn't
+possible, with that April smile in her child eyes!"
+
+"You bet she hasn't a history, Elsena," said Barres, frowning;
+"and I'll see that she doesn't begin one as long as she's in my
+neighbourhood."
+
+Corot Mandel, who had been heavily inspecting Dulcie through his
+monocle, now stood twirling it by its frayed and greasy cord:
+
+"I could do something for her--unless she's particularly yours,
+Barres?" he suggested. "I've seldom seen a better type in New York."
+
+"You idiot. Don't you recognise her? She's Dulcie Soane! You could
+have picked her yourself if you'd had any flaire."
+
+"Oh, hell," murmured Mandel, disgusted. "And I thought I possessed
+flaire. Your private property, I suppose?" he added sourly.
+
+"Absolutely. Keep off!"
+
+"Watch me," murmured Corot Mandel, with a wry face, as they moved
+forward to join the others and be presented to the little guest of the
+evening.
+
+Westmore came in at the same moment--a short, blond, vigorous young
+man, who knew everybody except Thessalie, and proceeded to smash the
+ice in characteristic fashion:
+
+"Dulcie! You beautiful child! How are you, duckey?"--catching her by
+both hands,--"a little salute for Nunky? Yes?"--kissing her heartily
+on both cheeks. "I've a gift for you in my overcoat pocket. We'll
+sneak out and get it after dinner!" He gave her hands a hearty
+squeeze, turned to the others: "I ought to have been Miss Soane's
+godfather. So I appointed myself as such. Where are the cocktails,
+Garry?"
+
+Road-to-ruin cocktails were served--frosted orange juice for Dulcie.
+Everybody drank her health. Then Aristocrates gracefully condescended
+to announce dinner. And Barres took out Dulcie, her arm resting light
+as a snowflake on his sleeve.
+
+There were flowers everywhere in the dining-room; table, buffet,
+curtains, lustres were gay with early blossoms, exhaling the haunting
+scent of spring.
+
+"Do you like it, Dulcie?" he whispered.
+
+She merely turned and looked at him, quite unable to speak, and he
+laughed at her brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks, and, dropping his
+right hand, squeezed hers.
+
+"It's your party, Sweetness--all yours! You must have a good time
+every minute!" And he turned, still smiling, to Thessalie Dunois on
+his left:
+
+"It's quite wonderful, Thessa, to have you here--to be actually seated
+beside you at my own table. I shall not let you slip away from me
+again, you enchanting ghost!--and leave me with a dislocated heart."
+
+"Garry, that sounds almost sentimental. We're not, you know."
+
+"How do I know? You never gave me a chance to be sentimental."
+
+She laughed mirthlessly:
+
+"Never gave you a chance? And our brief but headlong career together,
+monsieur? What was it but a continuous cataract of chances?"
+
+"But we were laughing our silly heads off every minute! I had no
+opportunity."
+
+That seemed to amuse her and awaken the ever-latent humour in her.
+
+"Opportunity," she observed demurely, "should be created and taken,
+not shyly awaited with eyes rolled upward and a sucked thumb."
+
+They both laughed outright. Her colour rose; the old humorous
+challenge was in her eyes again; the subtle mask was already slipping
+from her features, revealing them in all their charming recklessness.
+
+"You know my creed," she said; "to go forward--laugh--and accept what
+Destiny sends you--still laughing!" Her smile altered again, became,
+for a moment, strange and vague. "God knows that is what I am doing
+to-night," she murmured, lifting her slim glass, in which the gush of
+sunny bubbles caught the candlelight. "To Destiny--whatever it may be!
+Drink with me, Garry!"
+
+Around them the chatter and vivacity increased, as Damaris ended a
+duel of wit with Westmore and prepared for battle with Corot Mandel.
+Everybody seemed to be irresponsibly loquacious except Dulcie, who sat
+between Barres and Esmé Trenor, a silent, smiling, reserved little
+listener. For Barres was still conversationally involved with
+Thessalie, and Esmé Trenor, languid and detached, being entirely
+ignored by Damaris, whom he had taken out, awaited his own proper
+modicum of worship from his silent little neighbour on his left--which
+tribute he took for granted was his sacred due, and which, hitherto,
+he had invariably received from woman.
+
+But nobody seemed to be inclined to worship; Damaris scarcely deigned
+to notice him, his impudence, perhaps, still rankling. Thessalie,
+laughingly engaged with Barres, remained oblivious to the fashionable
+portrait painter. As for Elsena Helmund, that youthful matron was
+busily pretending to comprehend Corot Mandel's covert orientalisms,
+and secretly wondering whether they were, perhaps, as improper as
+Westmore kept whispering to her they were, urging her to pick up her
+skirts and run.
+
+Esmé Trenor permitted a few weary but slightly disturbed glances to
+rest on Dulcie from time to time, but made no effort to entertain
+her.
+
+And she, on her part, evinced no symptoms of worshipping him. And all
+the while he was thinking to himself:
+
+"Can this be the janitor's daughter? Is she the same rather soiled,
+impersonal child whom I scarcely ever noticed--the thin, immature,
+negligible little drudge with a head full of bobbed red hair?"
+
+His lack of vision, of finer discernment, deeply annoyed him. Her lack
+of inclination to worship him, now that she had the God-sent
+opportunity, irritated him.
+
+"The silly little bounder," he thought, "how can she sit beside me
+without timidly venturing to entertain me?"
+
+He stole another profoundly annoyed glance at Dulcie. The child was
+certainly beautiful--a slim, lovely, sensitive thing of qualities so
+delicate that the painter of pretty women became even more surprised
+and chagrined that it had taken Barres to discover this desirable girl
+in the silent, shabby child of Larry Soane.
+
+Presently he lurched part way toward her in his chair, and looked at
+her with bored but patronising encouragement.
+
+"Talk to me," he said languidly.
+
+Dulcie turned and looked at him out of uninterested grey eyes.
+
+"What?" she said.
+
+"Talk to me," he repeated pettishly.
+
+"Talk to yourself," retorted Dulcie, and turned again to listen to the
+gay nonsense which Damaris and Westmore were exchanging amid peals of
+general laughter.
+
+But Esmé Trenor was thunderstruck. A deep and painful colour stained
+his pallid features. Never before had mortal woman so flouted him. It
+was unthinkable. It really wouldn't do. There must be some explanation
+for this young girl's monstrous attitude toward offered opportunity.
+
+"I say," he insisted, still very red, "are you bashful, by any
+chance?"
+
+Dulcie slowly turned toward him again:
+
+"Sometimes I am bashful; not now."
+
+"Oh. Then wouldn't you like to talk to me?"
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"Fancy! And why not, Dulcie?"
+
+"Because I haven't anything to say to you."
+
+"Dear child, that is the incentive to all conversation--lack of
+anything to say. You should practise the art of saying nothing
+politely."
+
+"_You_ should have practised it enough to say good morning to me
+during these last five years," said Dulcie gravely.
+
+"Oh, I say! You're rather severe, you know! You were just a little
+thing running about underfoot!--I'm sorry you feel angry----"
+
+"I do not. But how can I have anything to talk to you about, Mr.
+Trenor, when you have never even noticed me all these years, although
+often I have handed you your keys and your letters."
+
+"It was quite stupid of me. I'm sorry. But a man, you see, doesn't
+notice children----"
+
+"Some men do."
+
+"You mean Mr. Barres! That _is_ unkind. Why rub it in, Dulcie? I'm
+rather an interesting fellow, after all."
+
+"Are you?" she asked absently.
+
+Her honest indifference to him was perfectly apparent to Esmé Trenor.
+This would never do. She must be subdued, made sane, disciplined!
+
+"Do you know," he drawled, leaning lankly nearer, dropping both arms
+on the cloth, and fixing his heavy-lidded eyes intensely on her,"--do
+you know--do you guess, perhaps, why I never spoke to you in all these
+years?"
+
+"You did not trouble yourself to speak to me, I imagine."
+
+"You are wrong. I was _afraid_!" And he stared at her pallidly.
+
+"Afraid?" she repeated, puzzled.
+
+He leaned nearer, confidential, sad:
+
+"Shall I tell you a precious secret, Dulcie? I am a coward. I am a
+slave of fear. I am afraid of beauty! Isn't that a very strange thing
+to say? Can you understand the subtlety of that indefinable
+psychology? Fear is an emotion. Fear of the beautiful is still a
+subtler emotion. Fear, itself, is beautiful beyond words. Beauty is
+Fear. Fear is Beauty. Do you follow me, Dulcie?"
+
+"No," said the girl, bewildered.
+
+Esmé sighed:
+
+"Some day you will follow me. It is my destiny to be followed,
+pursued, haunted by loveliness impotently seeking to express itself to
+me, while I, fearing it, dare only to express my fear with brush and
+pencil!... _When_ shall I paint you?" he added with sad benevolence.
+
+"What?"
+
+"When shall I try to interpret upon canvas my subtle fear of you?"
+And, as the girl remained mute: "When," he explained languidly, "shall
+I appoint an hour for you to sit to me?"
+
+"I am Mr. Barres's model," she said, flushing.
+
+"I shall have to arrange it with him, then," he nodded, wearily.
+
+"I don't think you can."
+
+"Fancy! Why not?"
+
+"Because I do not wish to sit to anybody except Mr. Barres," she said
+candidly, "and what you paint does not interest me at all."
+
+"Are you familiar with my work?" he asked incredulously.
+
+She shook her head, shrugged, and turned to Barres, who had at last
+relinquished Thessalie to Westmore.
+
+"Well, Sweetness," he said gaily, "do you get on with Esmé Trenor?"
+
+"He talked," she said in a voice perfectly audible to Esmé.
+
+Barres glanced toward Esmé, secretly convulsed, but that young apostle
+of Fear had swung one thin leg over the other and was now presenting
+one shoulder and the back of his head to them both, apparently in
+delightful conversation with Elsena Helmund, who was fed up on him and
+his fears.
+
+"You must always talk to your neighbours at dinner," insisted Barres,
+still immensely amused. "Esmé is a very popular man with fashionable
+women, Dulcie,--a painter in much demand and much adored.... Why do
+you smile?"
+
+Dulcie smiled again, deliciously.
+
+"Anyway," continued Barres, "you must now give the signal for us to
+rise by standing up. I'm so proud of you, Dulcie, darling!" he added
+impulsively; "--and everybody is mad about you!"
+
+"You made me--" she laughed mischievously, "--out of a rag and a bone
+and a hank of hair!"
+
+"You made yourself out of nothing, child! And everybody thinks you
+delightful."
+
+"Do _you_?"
+
+"You dear girl!--of course I do. Does it make such a difference to
+you, Dulcie--my affection for you?"
+
+"Is it--_affection_?"
+
+"It certainly is. Didn't you know it?"
+
+"I didn't--know--what it was."
+
+"Of course it is affection. Who could be with you as I have been and
+not grow tremendously fond of you?"
+
+"Nobody ever did except you. Mr. Westmore was always nice. But--but
+you are so kind--I can't express--I--c-can't----" Her emotion checked
+her.
+
+"Don't try, dear!" he said hastily. "We're going in to have a jolly
+dance now. You and I begin it together. Don't you let any other fellow
+take you away!"
+
+She looked up, laughed blissfully, gazing at him with brilliant eyes a
+little dimmed.
+
+"They'll all be at your heels," he said, beginning to comprehend the
+beauty he had let loose on the world, "--every man-jack of them, mark
+my prophecy! But ours is the first dance, Dulcie. Promise?"
+
+"I do. And I promise you the next--please----"
+
+"Well, I'm host," he said doubtfully, and a trifle taken aback. "We'll
+have some other dances together, anyway. But I couldn't monopolise
+you, Sweetness."
+
+The girl looked at him silently, then her grey, intelligent eyes
+rested directly on Thessalie Dunois.
+
+"Will you dance with her?" she asked gravely.
+
+"Yes, of course. And with the others, too. Tell me, Dulcie, did you
+find Miss Dunois agreeable?"
+
+"I--don't--know."
+
+"Why, you ought to like her. She's very attractive."
+
+"She is quite beautiful," said the girl, watching Thessalie across his
+shoulder.
+
+"Yes, she really is. What did you and she talk about?"
+
+"Father," replied Dulcie, determined to have no further commerce with
+Thessalie Dunois which involved a secrecy excluding Barres. "She asked
+me if he were not my father. Then she asked me a great many stupid
+questions about him. And about Miss Kurtz, who takes the desk when
+father is out. Also, she asked me about the mail and whether the
+postman delivered letters at the desk or in the box outside, and about
+the tenants' mail boxes, and who distributed the letters through them.
+She seemed interested," added the girl indifferently, "but I thought
+it a silly subject for conversation."
+
+Barres, much perplexed, sat gazing at Dulcie in silence for a moment,
+then recollecting his duty, he smiled and whispered:
+
+"Stand up, now, Dulcie. You are running this show."
+
+The girl flushed and rose, and the others stood up. Barres took her to
+the studio door, then returned to the table with the group of men.
+
+"Well," he exclaimed happily, "what do you fellows think of Soane's
+little girl now? Isn't she the sweetest thing you ever heard of?"
+
+"A peach!" said Westmore, in his quick, hearty voice. "What's the
+idea, Garry? Is it to be her career, this posing business? And where
+is it going to land her? In the Winter Garden?"
+
+"Where is it going to land _you_?" added Esmé impudently.
+
+"Why, I don't know, myself," replied Barres, with a troubled smile.
+"The little thing always appealed to me--her loneliness and neglect,
+and--and something about the child--I can't define it----"
+
+"Possibilities?" suggested Mandel viciously. "Take it from me, you're
+some picker, Garry."
+
+"Perhaps. Anyway, I've given her the run of my place for the last two
+years and more. And she has been growing up all the while, and I
+didn't notice it. And suddenly, this spring, I discovered her for the
+first time.... And--well, look at her to-night!"
+
+"She's your private model, isn't she?" persisted Mandel.
+
+"Entirely," replied Barres drily.
+
+"Selfish dog!" remarked Westmore, with his lively, wholesome laugh. "I
+once asked her to sit for me--more out of good nature than anything
+else. And a jolly fine little model she ought to make you, Garry.
+She's beginning to acquire a figure."
+
+"She's quite wonderful that way, too," nodded Barres.
+
+"Undraped?" inquired Esmé.
+
+"A miracle," nodded Barres absently. "Paint is becoming inadequate. I
+shall model her this summer. I tell you I have never seen anything to
+compare to her. Never!"
+
+"What else will you do with her?" drawled Esmé. "You'll go stale on
+her some day, of course. Am I next?"
+
+"_No_!... I don't know what she'll do. It begins to look like a
+responsibility, doesn't it? She's such a fine little girl," explained
+Barres warmly. "I've grown quite fond of her--interested in her. Do
+you know she has an excellent mind? And nice, fastidious instincts?
+She _thinks_ straight. That souse of a father of hers ought to be
+jailed for the way he neglects her."
+
+"Are you thinking of adopting her?" asked Trenor, with the faintest of
+sneers, which escaped Barres.
+
+"Adopt a _girl_? Oh, Lord, no! I can't do anything like that. Yet--I
+hate to think of her future, too ... unless somebody looks out for
+her. But it isn't possible for _me_ to do anything for her except to
+give her a good job with a decent man----"
+
+"Meaning yourself," commented Mandel, acidly.
+
+"Well, I _am_ decent," retorted Barres warmly, amid general laughter.
+"You fellows know what chances she might take with some men," he
+added, laughing at his own warm retort.
+
+Esmé and Corot Mandel nodded piously, each perfectly aware of what
+chance any attractive girl would run with his predatory neighbour.
+
+"To shift the subject of discourse--that girl, Thessalie Dunois,"
+began Westmore, in his energetic way, "is about the cleverest and
+prettiest woman I've seen in New York outside the theatre district."
+
+"I met her in France," said Barres, carelessly. "She really is
+wonderfully clever."
+
+"I shall let her talk to me," drawled Esmé, flicking at his cigarette.
+"It will be a liberal education for her."
+
+Mandel's slow, oriental eyes blinked contempt; he caressed his waxed
+moustache with nicotine-stained fingers:
+
+"I am going to direct an out-of-door spectacle--a sort of play--not
+named yet--up your way, Barres--at Northbrook. It's for the
+Belgians.... If Miss Dunois--unless," he added sardonically, "you have
+her reserved, also----"
+
+"Nonsense! You cast Thessalie Dunois and she'll make your show for
+you, Mandel!" exclaimed Barres. "I know and I'm telling you. Don't
+make any mistake: there's a girl who can make good!"
+
+"Oh. Is she a professional?"
+
+It was on the tip of Barres's tongue to say "Rather!" But he checked
+himself, not knowing Thessalie's wishes concerning details of her
+incognito.
+
+"Talk to her about it," he said, rising.
+
+The others laid aside cigars and followed him into the studio, where
+already the gramophone was going and Aristocrates and Selinda were
+rolling up the rugs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres and Dulcie danced until the music, twice revived, expired in
+husky dissonance, and a new disc was substituted by Westmore.
+
+"By heaven!" he said, "I'll dance this with my godchild or I'll murder
+you, Garry. Back up, there!--you soulless monopolist!" And Dulcie,
+half laughing, half vexed, was swept away in Westmore's vigorous arms,
+with a last, long, appealing look at Barres.
+
+The latter danced in turn with his feminine guests, as in duty
+bound--in pleasure bound, as far as concerned Thessalie.
+
+"And to think, to _think_," he repeated, "that you and I, who once
+trod the moonlit way, June-mad, moon-mad, should be dancing here
+together once more!"
+
+"Alas," she said, "though this is June again, moon and madness are
+lacking. So is the enchanted river and your canoe. And so is that gay
+heart of mine--that funny, careless little heart which was once my
+comrade, sending me into a happy gale of laughter every time it
+counselled me to folly."
+
+"What is the matter, Thessa?"
+
+"Garry, there is so much the matter that I don't know how to tell
+you.... And yet, I have nobody else to tell.... Is that maid of yours
+German?"
+
+"No, Finnish."
+
+"You can't be certain," she murmured. "Your guests are all American,
+are they not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And the little Soane girl? Are her sympathies with Germany?"
+
+"Why, certainly not! What gave you that idea, Thessa?"
+
+The music ran down; Westmore, the indefatigable, still keeping
+possession of Dulcie, went over to wind up the gramophone.
+
+"Isn't there some place where I could be alone with you for a few
+minutes?" whispered Thessalie.
+
+"There's a balcony under the middle window. It overlooks the court."
+
+She nodded and laid her hand on his arm, and they walked to the long
+window, opened it, and stepped out.
+
+Moonlight fell into the courtyard, silvering everything. Down there on
+the grass the Prophet sat, motionless as a black sphynx in the lustre
+of the moon.
+
+Thessalie looked down into the shadowy court, then turned and glanced
+up at the tiled roof just above them, where a chimney rose in
+silhouette against the pale radiance of the sky.
+
+Behind the chimney, flat on their stomachs, lay two men who had been
+watching, through an upper ventilating pane of glass, the scene in
+the brilliantly lighted studio below them.
+
+The men were Soane and his crony, the one-eyed pedlar. But neither
+Thessalie nor Barres could see them up there behind the chimney.
+
+Yet the girl, as though some unquiet instinct warned her, glanced up
+at the eaves above her head once more, and Barres looked up, too.
+
+"What do you see up there?" he inquired.
+
+"Nothing.... There could be nobody up there to listen, could there?"
+
+He laughed:
+
+"Who would want to climb up on the roof to spy on you or me----"
+
+"Don't speak so loud, Garry----"
+
+"What on earth is the trouble?"
+
+"The same trouble that drove me out of France," she said in a low
+voice. "Don't ask me what it was. All I can tell you is this: I am
+followed everywhere I go. I cannot make a living. Whenever I secure an
+engagement and return at the appointed time to fill it, something
+happens."
+
+"What happens?" he asked bluntly.
+
+"They repudiate the agreement," she said in a quiet voice. "They give
+no reasons; they simply tell me that they don't want me. Do you
+remember that evening when I left the Palace of Mirrors?"
+
+"Indeed, I do----"
+
+"That was only one example. I left with an excellent contract, signed.
+The next day, when I returned, the management took my contract out of
+my hands and tore it up."
+
+"What! Why, that's outrageous----"
+
+"Hush! That is only one instance. Everywhere it is the same. I am
+accepted after a try-out; then, without apparent reason, I am told
+not to return."
+
+"You mean there is some conspiracy----" he began incredulously, but
+she interrupted him with a white hand over his, nervously committing
+him to silence:
+
+"Listen, Garry! Men have followed me here from Europe. I am constantly
+watched in New York. I cannot shake off this surveillance for very
+long at a time. Sooner or later I become conscious again of curious
+eyes regarding me; of features that all at once become unpleasantly
+familiar in the throng. After several encounters in street or car or
+restaurant, I recognise these. Often and often instinct alone warns me
+that I am followed; sometimes I am so certain of it that I take pains
+to prove it."
+
+"Do you prove it?"
+
+"Usually."
+
+"Well, what the devil----"
+
+"Hush! I seem to be getting into deeper trouble than that, Garry. I
+have changed my residence so many, many times!--but every time
+people get into my room when I am away and ransack my effects.... And
+now I never enter my room unless the landlady is with me, or the
+janitor--especially after dark."
+
+"Good Lord!----"
+
+"Listen! I am not really frightened. It isn't fear, Garry. That word
+isn't in my creed, you know. But it bewilders me."
+
+"In the name of common sense," he demanded, "what reason has anybody
+to annoy you----"
+
+Her hand tightened on his:
+
+"If I only knew who these people are--whether they are agents of the
+Count d'Eblis or of the--the French Government! But I can't determine.
+They steal letters directed to me; they steal letters which I write
+and mail with my own hands. I wrote to you yesterday, because I--I
+felt I couldn't stand this persecution--any--longer----"
+
+Her voice became unsteady; she waited, gripping his hand, until
+self-control returned. When she was mistress of herself again, she
+forced a smile and her tense hand relaxed.
+
+"You know," she said, "it is most annoying to have my little
+love-letter to you intercepted."
+
+But his features remained very serious:
+
+"When did you mail that letter to me?"
+
+"Yesterday evening."
+
+"From where?"
+
+"From a hotel."
+
+He considered.
+
+"I ought to have had it this morning, Thessa. But the mails, lately,
+have been very irregular. There have been other delays. This is
+probably an example."
+
+"At latest," she said, "you should have my letter this evening."
+
+"Y-yes. But the evening is young yet."
+
+After a moment she drew a light sigh of relief, or perhaps of
+apprehension, he was not quite sure which.
+
+"But about this other matter--men following and annoying you," he
+began.
+
+"Not now, Garry. I can't talk about it now. Wait until we are sure
+about my letter----"
+
+"But, Thessa----"
+
+"Please! If you don't receive it before I leave, I shall come to you
+again and ask your aid and advice----"
+
+"Will you come _here_?"
+
+"Yes. Now take me in.... Because I am not quite certain about your
+maid--and perhaps one other person----"
+
+His expression of astonishment checked her for a moment, then the old
+irresistible laughter rang out sweetly in the moonlight.
+
+"Oh, Garry! It is funny, isn't it!--to be dogged and hunted day and
+night by a pack of shadows? If I only knew who casts them!"
+
+She took his arm gaily, with that little, courageous lifting of the
+head:
+
+"Allons! We shall dance again and defy the devil! And you may send
+your servant down to see whether my letter has arrived--not that maid
+with slanting eyes!--I have no confidence in her--but your marvellous
+major-domo, Garry----"
+
+Her smile was bright and untroubled as she stepped back into the
+studio, leaning on his arm.
+
+"You dear boy," she whispered, with the irresponsible undertone of
+laughter ringing in her voice, "thank you for bothering with my woes.
+I'll be rid of them soon, I hope, and then--perhaps--I'll lead you
+another dance along the moonlit way!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the roof, close to the chimney, the one-eyed man and Soane peered
+down into the studio through the smeared ventilator.
+
+In the studio Dulcie's first party was drawing to an early but jolly
+end.
+
+She had danced a dozen times with Barres, and her heart was full of
+sheerest happiness--the unreasoning bliss which asks no questions, is
+endowed with neither reason nor vision--the matchless delight which
+fills the candid, unquestioning heart of Youth.
+
+Nothing had marred her party for her, not even the importunity of Esmé
+Trenor, which she had calmly disregarded as of no interest to her.
+
+True, for a few moments, while Barres and Thessalie were on the
+balcony outside, Dulcie had become a trifle subdued. But the wistful
+glances she kept casting toward the long window were free from meaner
+taint; neither jealousy nor envy had ever found lodging in the girl's
+mind or heart. There was no room to let them in now.
+
+Also, she was kept busy enough, one man after another claiming her for
+a dance. And she adored it--even with Trenor, who danced extremely
+well when he took the trouble. And he was taking it now with Dulcie;
+taking a different tone with her, too. For if it _were_ true, as some
+said, that Esmé Trenor was three-quarters charlatan, he was no fool.
+And Dulcie began to find him entertaining to the point of a smile or
+two, as her spontaneous tribute to Esmé's efforts.
+
+That languid apostle said afterward to Mandel, where they were
+lounging over the piano:
+
+"Little devil! She's got a mind of her own, and she knows it. I've had
+to make efforts, Corot!--efforts, if you please, to attract her mere
+attention. I'm exhausted!--never before had to make any efforts--never
+in my life!"
+
+Mandel's heavy-lidded eyes of a big bird rested on Dulcie, where she
+was seated. Her gaze was lifted to Barres, who bent over her in
+jesting conversation.
+
+Mandel, watching her, said to Esmé:
+
+"I'm always ready to _train_--that sort of girl; always on the lookout
+for them. One discovers a specimen once or twice in a decade.... Two
+or three in a lifetime: that's all."
+
+"Train them?" repeated Esmé, with an indolent smile. "Break them, you
+mean, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. The breaking, however, is usually mutual. However, that girl
+could go far under my direction."
+
+"Yes, she could go as far as hell."
+
+"I mean artistically," remarked Mandel, undisturbed.
+
+"As what, for example?"
+
+"As anything. After all, I _have_ flaire, even if it failed me this
+time. But _now_ I see. It's there, in her--what I'm always searching
+for."
+
+"What may that be, dear friend?"
+
+"What Westmore calls 'the goods.'"
+
+"And just what are they in her case?" inquired Esmé, persistent as a
+stinging gnat around a pachyderm.
+
+"I don't know--a voice, maybe; maybe the dramatic instinct--genius as
+a dancer--who knows? All that is necessary is to discover it--whatever
+it may be--and then direct it."
+
+"Too late, O philanthropic Pasha!" remarked Esmé with a slight sneer.
+"I'd be very glad to paint her, too, and become good friends with
+her--so would many an honest man, now that she's been discovered--but
+our friend Barres, yonder, isn't likely to encourage either you or me.
+So"--he shrugged, but his languid gaze remained on Dulcie--"so you and
+I had better kiss all hope good-bye and toddle home."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Westmore and Thessalie still danced together; Mrs. Helmund and Damaris
+were trying new steps in new dances, much interested, indulging in
+much merriment. Barres watched them casually, as he conversed with
+Dulcie, who, deep in an armchair, never took her eyes from his smiling
+face.
+
+"Now, Sweetness," he was saying, "it's early yet, I know, but your
+party ought to end, because you are coming to sit for me in the
+morning, and you and I ought to get plenty of sleep. If we don't, I
+shall have an unsteady hand, and you a pair of sleepy eyes. Come on,
+ducky!" He glanced across at the clock:
+
+"It's very early yet, I know," he repeated, "but you and I have had
+rather a long day of it. And it's been a very happy one, hasn't it,
+Dulcie?"
+
+As she smiled, the youthful soul of her itself seemed to be gazing up
+at him out of her enraptured eyes.
+
+"Fine!" he said, with deepest satisfaction. "Now, you'll put your hand
+on my arm and we'll go around and say good-night to everybody, and
+then I'll take you down stairs."
+
+So she rose and placed her hand lightly on his arm, and together
+they made her adieux to everybody, and everybody was cordially
+demonstrative in thanking her for her party.
+
+So he took her down stairs to her apartment, off the hall, noticing
+that neither Soane nor Miss Kurtz was on duty at the desk, as they
+passed, and that a pile of undistributed mail lay on the desk.
+
+"That's rotten," he said curtly. "Will you have to change your
+clothes, sort this mail, and sit here until the last mail is
+delivered?"
+
+"I don't mind," she said.
+
+"But I wanted you to go to sleep. Where is Miss Kurtz?"
+
+"It is her evening off."
+
+"Then your father ought to be here," he said, irritated, looking
+around the big, empty hallway.
+
+But Dulcie only smiled and held out her slim hand:
+
+"I couldn't sleep, anyway. I had really much rather sit here for a
+while and dream it all over again. Good-night.... Thank you--I can't
+say what I feel--but m-my heart is very faithful to you, Mr.
+Barres--will always be--while I am alive ... because you are my first
+friend."
+
+He stooped impulsively and touched her hair with his lips:
+
+"You dear child," he said, "I _am_ your friend."
+
+Halfway up the western staircase he called back:
+
+"Ring me up, Dulcie, when the last mail comes!"
+
+"I will," she nodded, almost blindly.
+
+Out of her lovely, abashed eyes she watched him mount the stairs, her
+cheeks a riot of surging colour. It was some few minutes after he was
+gone that she recollected herself, turned, and, slowly traversing the
+east corridor, entered her bedroom.
+
+Standing there in darkness, vaguely silvered by reflected moonlight,
+she heard through her door ajar the guests of the evening descending
+the western staircase; heard their gay adieux exchanged, distinguished
+Esmé's impudent drawl, Westmore's lively accents, Mandel's voice, the
+easy laughter of Damaris, the smooth, affected tones of Mrs. Helmund.
+
+But Dulcie listened in vain for the voice which had haunted her ears
+since she had left the studio--the lovely voice of Thessalie Dunois.
+
+If this radiant young creature also had departed with the other
+guests, she had gone away in silence.... _Had_ she departed? Or was
+she still lingering upstairs in the studio for a little chat with the
+most wonderful man in the world?... A very, very beautiful girl....
+And the most wonderful man in the world. Why should they not linger
+for a little chat together after the others had departed?
+
+Dulcie sighed lightly, pensively, as one whose happiness lies in the
+happiness of others. To be a witness seemed enough for her.
+
+For a little while longer she remained standing there in the silvery
+dusk, quite motionless, thinking of Barres.
+
+The Prophet lay asleep, curled up on her bed; her alarm clock ticked
+noisily in the darkness, as though to mimic the loud, fast rhythm of
+her heart.
+
+At last, and as in a dream, she groped for a match, lighted the gas
+jet, and began to disrobe. Slowly, dreamily, she put from her slender
+body the magic garments of light--_his_ gift to her.
+
+But under these magic garments, clothing her newborn soul, remained
+the radiant rainbow robe of that new dawn into which this man had led
+her spirit. Did it matter, then, what dingy, outworn clothing covered
+her, outside?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Clad once more in her shabby, familiar clothes, and bedroom slippers,
+Dulcie opened the door of her dim room, and crept out into the
+whitewashed hall, moving as in a trance. And at her heels stalked the
+Prophet, softly, like a lithe shape that glides through dreams.
+
+Awaiting the last mail, seated behind the desk on the worn leather
+chair, she dropped her linked fingers into her lap, and gazed straight
+into an invisible world peopled with enchanting phantoms. And, little
+by little, they began to crowd her vision, throng all about her,
+laughing, rosy wraiths floating, drifting, whirling in an endless
+dance. Everywhere they were invading the big, silent hall, where the
+candle's grotesque shadows wavered across whitewashed wall and
+ceiling. Drowsily, now, she watched them play and sway around her. Her
+head drooped; she opened her eyes.
+
+The Prophet sat there, staring back at her out of depthless orbs of
+jade, in which all the wisdom and mysteries of the centuries seemed
+condensed and concentrated into a pair of living sparks.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+THE LAST MAIL
+
+
+The last mail had not yet arrived at Dragon Court.
+
+Five people awaited it--Dulcie Soane, behind the desk in the entrance
+hall, already wandering drowsily with Barres along the fairy
+borderland of sleep; Thessalie Dunois in Barres' studio, her
+rose-coloured evening cloak over her shoulders, her slippered foot
+tapping the dance-scarred parquet; Barres opposite, deep in his
+favourite armchair, chatting with her; Soane on the roof, half stupid
+with drink, watching them through the ventilator; and, lurking in the
+moonlit court, outside the office window, the dimly sinister figure of
+the one-eyed man. He wore a white handkerchief over his face, with a
+single hole cut in it. Through this hole his solitary optic was now
+fixed upon the back of Dulcie's drowsy head.
+
+As for the Prophet, perched on the desk top, he continued to gaze upon
+shapes invisible to all things mortal save only such as he.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The postman's lively whistle aroused Dulcie. The Prophet, knowing him,
+observed his advent with indifference.
+
+"Hello, girlie," he said;--he was a fresh-faced and flippant young
+man. "Where's Pop?" he added, depositing a loose sheaf of letters on
+the desk before her and sketching in a few jig steps with his feet.
+
+"I don't know," she murmured, patting with one slim hand her pink and
+yawning lips, and watching him unlock the post-box and collect the
+outgoing mail. He lingered a moment to caress the Prophet, who endured
+it without gratitude.
+
+"You better go to bed if you want to grow up to be a big, sassy girl
+some day," he advised Dulcie. "And hurry up about it, too, because I'm
+going to marry you if you behave." And, with a last affable caress for
+the Prophet, the young man went his way, singing to himself, and
+slamming the iron grille smartly behind him.
+
+Dulcie, rising from her chair, sorted the mail, sleepily tucking each
+letter and parcel into its proper pigeon-hole. There was a thick
+letter for Barres. This she held in her left hand, remembering his
+request that she call him up when the last mail arrived.
+
+This she now prepared to do--had already reseated herself, her right
+hand extended toward the telephone, when a shadow fell across the
+desk, and the Prophet turned, snarled, struck, and fled.
+
+At the same instant grimy fingers snatched at the letter which she
+still held in her left hand, twisted it almost free of her desperate
+clutch, tore it clean in two at one violent jerk, leaving her with
+half the letter still gripped in her clenched fist.
+
+She had not uttered a sound during the second's struggle. But
+instantly an ungovernable rage blazed up in her at the outrage, and
+she leaped clean over the desk and sprang at the throat of the
+one-eyed man.
+
+His neck was bony and muscular; she could not compass it with her
+slender hands, but she struck at it furiously, driving a sound out of
+his throat, half roar, half cough.
+
+"Give me my letter!" she breathed. "I'll kill you if you don't!" Her
+furious little hands caught his clenched fist, where the torn letter
+protruded, and she tore at it and beat upon it, her teeth set and her
+grey Irish eyes afire.
+
+Twice the one-eyed man flung her to her knees on the pavement, but she
+was up again and clinging to him before he could tear free of her.
+
+"My letter!" she gasped. "I shall kill you, I tell you--unless you
+return it!"
+
+His solitary yellow eye began to glare and glitter as he wrenched and
+dragged at her wrists and arms about him.
+
+"Schweinstück!" he panted. "Let los, mioche de malheur! Eh! Los!--or I
+strike! No? Also! Attrape!--sale gallopin!----"
+
+His blow knocked her reeling across the hall. Against the whitewashed
+wall she collapsed to her knees, got up half stunned, the clang of the
+outer grille ringing in her very brain.
+
+With dazed eyes she gazed at the remnants of the torn letter, still
+crushed in her rigid fingers. Bright drops of blood from her mouth
+dripped slowly to the tessellated pavement.
+
+Reeling still from the shock of the blow, she managed to reach the
+outer door, and stood swaying there, striving to pierce with confused
+eyes the lamplit darkness of the street. There was no sign of the
+one-eyed man. Then she turned and made her way back to the desk,
+supporting herself with a hand along the wall.
+
+Waiting a few moments to control her breathing and her shaky limbs,
+she contrived finally to detach the receiver and call Barres. Over the
+wire she could hear the gramophone playing again in the studio.
+
+"Please may I come up?" she whispered.
+
+"Has the last mail come? Is there a letter for me?" he asked.
+
+"Yes ... I'll bring you w-what there is--if you'll let me?"
+
+"Thanks, Sweetness! Come right up!" And she heard him say: "It's
+probably your letter, Thessa. Dulcie is bringing it up."
+
+Her limbs and body were still quivering, and she felt very weak and
+tearful as she climbed the stairway to the corridor above.
+
+The nearer door of his apartment was open. Through it the music of the
+gramophone came gaily; and she went toward it and entered the
+brilliantly illuminated studio.
+
+Soane, who still lay flat on the roof overhead, peeping through the
+ventilator, saw her enter, all dishevelled, grasping in one hand the
+fragments of a letter. And the sight instantly sobered him. He tucked
+his shoes under one arm, got to his stockinged feet, made nimbly for
+the scuttle, and from there, descending by the service stair, ran
+through the courtyard into the empty hall.
+
+"Be gorry," he muttered, "thot dommed Dootchman has done it now!" And
+he pulled on his shoes, crammed his hat over his ears, and started
+east, on a run, for Grogan's.
+
+Grogan's was still the name of the Third Avenue saloon, though Grogan
+had been dead some years, and one Franz Lehr now presided within that
+palace of cherrywood, brass and pretzels.
+
+Into the family entrance fled Soane, down a dim hallway past several
+doors, from behind which sounded voices joining in guttural song; and
+came into a rear room.
+
+The one-eyed man sat there at a small table, piecing together
+fragments of a letter.
+
+"Arrah, then," cried Soane, "phwat th' devil did ye do, Max?"
+
+The man barely glanced at him.
+
+"Vy iss it," he enquired tranquilly, "you don'd vatch Nihla Quellen by
+dot wentilator some more?"
+
+"I axe ye," shouted Soane, "what t'hell ye done to Dulcie!"
+
+"Vat I haff done already yet?" queried the one-eyed man, not looking
+up, and continuing to piece together the torn letter. "Vell, I tell
+you, Soane; dot kid she keep dot letter in her handt, und I haff to
+grab it. Sacré saligaud de malheur! Dot letter she tear herself in
+two. Pas de chance! Your kid she iss mad like tigers! Voici--all zat
+rests me de la sacré-nom-de sacrèminton de lettre----"
+
+"Ah, shut up, y'r Dootch head-cheese!--wid y'r gillipin' gallopin'
+gabble!" cut in Soane wrathfully. "D'ye mind phwat ye done? It's not
+petty larceny, ye omadhoun!--it's highway robbery ye done--bad cess to
+ye!"
+
+The one-eyed man shrugged:
+
+"Pourtant, I must haff dot letter----" he observed, undisturbed by
+Soane's anger; but Soane cut him short again fiercely:
+
+"You an' y'r dommed letter! Phwat do you care if I'm fired f'r this
+night's wurruk? Y'r letter, is it? An' what about highway robbery, me
+bucko! An' me off me post! How'll I be explaining that? Ah, ye sicken
+me entirely, ye Dootch square-head! Now, phwat'll I say to them? Tell
+me that, Max Freund! Phwat'll I tell th' aygent whin he comes runnin'?
+Phwat'll I tell th' po-lice? Arrah, phwat't'hell do you care,
+anyway?" he shouted. "I've a mind f'r to knock the block off ye----"
+
+"You shall say to dot agent you haff gone out to smell," remarked Max
+Freund placidly.
+
+"Smell, is it? Smell what, ye dom----"
+
+"You smell some smoke. You haff fear of fire. You go out to see. Das
+iss so simble, ach! Take shame, you Irish Sinn Fein! You behave like
+rabbits!" He pointed to his arrangement of the torn letter on the
+table: "Here iss sufficient already--regardez! Look once!" He laid one
+long, soiled and bony finger on the fragments: "Read it vat iss
+written!"
+
+"G'wan, now!"
+
+"I tell you, read!"
+
+Soane, still cursing under his breath, bent over the table, reading as
+Freund's soiled finger moved:
+
+"Fein plots," he read. "German agents ... disloyal propa ... explo ...
+bomb fac ... shipping munitions to ... arms for Ireland can be ...
+destruction of interned German li ... disloyal newspapers which ...
+controlled by us in Pari ... Ferez Bey ... bankers are duped.... I
+need your advi ... hounded day and ni ... d'Eblis or Govern ... not
+afraid of death but indignant ... Sinn Fei----"
+
+Soane's scowl had altered, and a deeper red stained his brow and
+neck.
+
+"Well, by God!" he muttered, jerking up a chair from behind him and
+seating himself at the table, but never taking his fascinated eyes off
+the torn bits of written paper.
+
+Presently Freund got up and went out. He returned in a few moments
+with a large sheet of wrapping paper and a pot of mucilage. On this
+paper, with great care, he arranged the pieces of the torn letter,
+neatly gumming each bit and leaving a space between it and the next
+fragment.
+
+"To fill in iss the job of Louis Sendelbeck," remarked Freund, pasting
+away industriously. "Is it not time we learn how much she knows--this
+Nihla Quellen? Iss she sly like mice? I ask it."
+
+Soane scratched his curly head.
+
+"Be gorry," he said, "av that purty girrl is a Frinch spy she don't
+look the parrt, Max."
+
+Freund waved one unclean hand:
+
+"Vas iss it to look like somedings? Nodding! Also, you Sinn Fein Irish
+talk too much. Why iss it in Belfast you march mit drums und music? To
+hold our tongues und vatch vat iss we Germans learn already first!
+Also! Sendelbeck shall haff his letter."
+
+"An' phwat d'ye mean to do with that girrl, Max?"
+
+"Vatch her! Vy you don'd go back by dot wentilator already?"
+
+"Me? Faith, I'm done f'r th' evenin', an' I thank God I wasn't pinched
+on the leads!"
+
+"Vait I catch dot Nihla somevares," muttered Freund, regarding his
+handiwork.
+
+"Ye'll do no dirty thrick to her? Th' Sinn Fein will shtand f'r no
+burkin', mind that!"
+
+"Ach, wass!" grunted Freund; "iss it your business vat iss done to
+somebody by Ferez? If you Irish vant your rifles und machine guns,
+leaf it to us Germans und dond speak nonsense aboud nodding!" He
+leaned over and pushed a greasy electric button: "Now ve drink a glass
+bier. Und after, you go home und vatch dot girl some more."
+
+"Av Misther Barres an' th' yoong lady makes a holler, they'll fire me
+f'r this," snarled Soane.
+
+"Sei ruhig, mon vieux! Nihla Quellen keeps like a mouse quiet! Und she
+keeps dot yoong man quiet! You see! No, no! Not for Nihla to make
+some foolishness und publicity. French agents iss vatching for her
+too--l'affaire du _Mot d'Ordre_. She iss vat you say, 'in Dutch'! Iss
+she, vielleicht, a German spy? In France they believe it. Iss she a
+French spy? Ach! Possibly some day; not yet! And it iss for us Germans
+to know always vat she iss about. Dot iss my affair, not yours,
+Soane."
+
+A heavy jowled man in a soiled apron brought two big mugs of beer and
+retired on felt-slippered feet.
+
+"Hoch!" grunted Freund, burying his nose in his frothing mug.
+
+Soane, wasting no words, drank thirstily. After a long pull he shoved
+aside his sloppy stein, rose, cautiously unlatched the shutter of a
+tiny peep-hole in the wall, and applied one eye to it.
+
+"Bad luck!" he muttered, "there do be wan av thim secret service lads
+drinkin' at the bar! I'll not go home yet, Max."
+
+"Dot big vone?" inquired Freund, mildly interested.
+
+"That's the buck! Him wid th' phony whiskers an' th' Dootch get-up!"
+
+"Vell, vot off it? Can he do somedings?"
+
+"And how should I know phwat that lad can do to th' likes o' me, or
+phwat the divil brings him here at all, at all! Sure, he's been around
+these three nights running----"
+
+Freund laughed his contempt for all things American, including police
+and secret service, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
+
+"Look, once, Soane! Do these Yankees know vat it iss a police, a
+gendarme, a military intelligence? Vat they call secret service, wass
+iss it? I ask it? Schweinerei! Dummheit? Fantoches! Imbeciles! Of the
+Treasury they haff a secret service; of the Justice Department also
+another; and another of the Army, and yet another of the Posts! Vot
+kind of foolish system iss it?--mitout no minister, no chef, no
+centre, no head, no organisation--und everybody interfering in vot
+efferybody iss doing und nobody knowing vot nobody is doing--ach wass!
+Je m'en moque--I make mock myself at dot secret service which iss too
+dam dumm!" He yawned. "Trop bête," he added indistinctly.
+
+Soane, reassured, lowered the shutter, came back to the table, and
+finished his beer with loud gulps.
+
+"Lave us go up to the lodge till he goes out," he suggested. "Maybe
+th' boys have news o' thim rifles."
+
+Freund yawned again, nodded, and rose, and they went out to an
+unlighted and ill-smelling back stairway. It was so narrow that they
+had to ascend in single file.
+
+Half way up they set off a hidden bell, by treading on some concealed
+button under foot; and a man, dressed only in undershirt and trousers,
+appeared at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against a bright light
+burning on the wall behind him.
+
+"Oh, all right," he said, recognising them, and turned on his heel
+carelessly, pocketing a black-jack.
+
+They followed to a closed door, which was made out of iron and painted
+like quartered oak. In the wall on their right a small shutter slid
+back noiselessly, then was closed without a sound; and the iron door
+opened very gently in their faces.
+
+The room they entered was stifling--all windows being closed--in
+spite of a pair of electric fans whirling and droning on shelves. Some
+perspiring Germans were playing skat over in a corner. One or two
+other men lounged about a centre table, reading Irish and German
+newspapers published in New York, Chicago, and Milwaukee. There
+were also on file there copies of the _Evening Mail_, the _Evening
+Post_, a Chicago paper, and a pile of magazines, including numbers
+of _Pearson's_, _The Fatherland_, _The Masses_, and similar
+publications.
+
+Two lithograph portraits hung side by side over the fireplace--Robert
+Emmet and Kaiser Wilhelm II. Otherwise, the art gallery included
+photographs of Von Hindenburg, Von Bissing, and the King of Greece.
+
+A large map, on which the battle-line in Europe had been pricked out
+in red pins, hung on the wall. Also a map of New York City, on a very
+large scale; another map of New York State; and a map of Ireland. A
+dumb-waiter, on duty and astonishingly noiseless, slid into sight,
+carrying half a dozen steins of beer and some cheese sandwiches, just
+as Soane and Freund entered the room, and the silent iron door closed
+behind them of its own accord and without any audible click.
+
+The man who had met them on the stairs, in undershirt and trousers,
+went over to the dumb-waiter, scribbled something on a slate which
+hung inside the shelf, set the beer and sandwiches beside the skat
+players, and returned to seat himself at the table to which Freund and
+Soane had pulled up cane-bottomed chairs.
+
+"Well," he said, in rather a pleasant voice, "did you get that letter,
+Max?"
+
+Freund nodded and leisurely sketched in the episode at Dragon Court.
+
+The man, whose name was Franz Lehr, and who had been born in New York
+of German parents, listened with lively interest to the narrative. But
+he whistled softly when it ended:
+
+"You took a few chances, Max," he remarked. "It's all right, of
+course, because you got away with it, but----" He whistled again,
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Sendelbeck must haff his letter. Yess? Also!"
+
+"Certainly. I guess that was the only way--if she was really going to
+take it up to young Barres. And I guess you're right when you conclude
+that Nihla won't make any noise about it and won't let her friend,
+Barres, either."
+
+"Sure, I'm right," grunted Freund. "We got the goots on her now. You
+bet she's scared. You tell Ferez--yess?"
+
+"Don't worry; he'll hear it all. You got that letter on you?"
+
+Freund nodded.
+
+"Hand it to Hochstein"--he half turned on his rickety chair and
+addressed a squat, bushy-haired man with very black eyebrows and
+large, angry blue eyes--"Louis, Max got that letter you saw Nihla
+writing in the Hotel Astor. Here it is----" taking the pasted
+fragments from Freund and passing them over to Hochstein. "Give it to
+Sendelbeck, along with the blotter you swiped after she left the
+writing room. Dave Sendelbeck ought to fix it up all right for Ferez
+Bey."
+
+Hochstein nodded, shoved the folded brown paper into his pocket, and
+resumed his cards.
+
+"Is thim rifles----" began Soane; but Lehr laid a hand on his
+shoulder:
+
+"Now, listen! They're on the way to Ireland now. I told you that. When
+I hear they're landed I'll let you know. You Sinn Feiners don't
+understand how to wait. If things don't happen the way you want and
+when you want, you all go up in the air!"
+
+"An' how manny hundred years would ye have us wait f'r to free th'
+ould sod!" retorted Soane.
+
+"You'll not free it with your mouth," retorted Lehr. "No, nor by
+drilling with banners and arms in Cork and Belfast, and parading all
+over the place!"
+
+"Is--that--so!"
+
+"You bet it's so! The way to make England sick is to stick her in the
+back, not make faces at her across the Irish Channel. If your friends
+in the Clan-na-Gael, and your poets and professors who call themselves
+Sinn Feiners, will quit their childish circus playing and trust us,
+we'll show you how to make the Lion yowl."
+
+"Ah, bombs an' fires an' shtrikes is all right, too. An' proppygandy
+is fine as far as it goes. But the Clan-na-Gael is all afire f'r to
+start the shindy in Ireland----"
+
+"You start it," interrupted Lehr, "before you're really ready, and
+you'll see where it lands the Clan-na-Gael and the Sinn Fein! I tell
+you to leave it to Berlin!"
+
+"An' I tell ye lave it to the Clan-na-Gael!" retorted Soane,
+excitedly. "Musha----"
+
+"For why you yell?" yawned Freund, displaying a very yellow fang. "Dot
+big secret service slob, he iss in the bar hinunter. Perhaps he hear
+you if like a pig you push forth cries."
+
+Lehr raised his eyebrows; then, carelessly:
+
+"He's only a State agent. Johnny Klein is keeping an eye on him. What
+does that big piece of cheese expect to get by hanging out in my
+bar?"
+
+Freund yawned again, appallingly; Soane said:
+
+"I wonder is that purty Frinch girrl agin us Irish?"
+
+"What does she care about the Irish?" replied Lehr. "Her danger to us
+lies in the fact that she may blab about Ferez to some Frenchman, and
+that he may believe her in spite of all the proof they have in Paris
+against her. Max," he added, turning to Freund, "it's funny that Ferez
+doesn't do something to her."
+
+"I haff no orders."
+
+"Maybe you'll get 'em when Ferez reads that letter. He's certainly
+not going to let that girl go about blabbing and writing letters----"
+
+Soane struck the table with doubled fist:
+
+"Ye'll do no vi'lence to anny wan!" he cut in. "The Sinn Fein will
+shtand for no dirrty wurruk in America! Av you set fires an' blow up
+plants, an' kidnap ladies, an' do murther, g'wan, ye Dootch
+scuts!--it's your business, God help us!--not ours.
+
+"All we axe of ye is machine-goons, an' rifles, an' ships to land
+them; an' av ye don't like it, phway th' divil d'ye come botherin' th'
+likes of us Irish wid y'r proppygandy! Sorra the day," he added, "I
+tuk up wid anny Dootchman at all at all----"
+
+Lehr and Freund exchanged expressionless glances. The former dropped a
+propitiating hand on Soane's shoulder.
+
+"Can it," he said good-humouredly. "We're trying to help you Irish to
+what you want. You want Irish independence, don't you? All right.
+We're going to help you get it----"
+
+A bell rang; Lehr sprang to his feet and hastened out through the iron
+door, drawing his black-jack from his hip pocket as he went.
+
+He returned in a few moments, followed by a very good-looking but
+pallid man in rather careless evening dress, who had the dark eyes of
+a dreamer and the delicate features of a youthful acolyte.
+
+He saluted the company with a peculiarly graceful gesture, which
+recognition even the gross creatures at the skat table returned with
+visible respect.
+
+Soane, always deeply impressed by the presence of Murtagh Skeel,
+offered his chair and drew another one to the table.
+
+Skeel accepted with a gently preoccupied smile, and seated himself
+gracefully. All that is chivalrous, romantic, courteous, and brave in
+an Irishman seemed to be visibly embodied in this pale man.
+
+"I have just come," he said, "from a dinner at Sherry's. A common
+hatred of England brought together the dozen odd men with whom I have
+been in conference. Ferez Bey was there, the military attachés of the
+German, Austrian, and Turkish embassies, one or two bankers, officials
+of certain steamship lines, and a United States senator."
+
+He sipped a glass of plain water which Lehr had brought him, thanked
+him, then turning from Soane to Lehr:
+
+"To get arms and munitions into Ireland in substantial quantities
+requires something besides the U-boats which Germany seems willing to
+offer.
+
+"That was fully discussed to-night. Not that I have any doubt at all
+that Sir Roger will do his part skilfully and fearlessly----"
+
+"He will that!" exclaimed Soane, "God bless him!"
+
+"Amen, Soane," said Murtagh Skeel, with a wistful and involuntary
+upward glance from his dark eyes. Then he laid his hand of an
+aristocrat on Soane's shoulder. "What I came here to tell you is this:
+I want a ship's crew."
+
+"Sorr?"
+
+"I want a crew ready to mutiny at a signal from me and take over their
+own ship on the high seas."
+
+"Their own ship, sorr?"
+
+"Their own ship. That is what has been decided. The ship to be
+selected will be a fast steamer loaded with arms and munitions for the
+British Government. The Sinn Fein and the Clan-na-Gael, between them,
+are to assemble the crew. I shall be one of that crew. Through
+powerful friends, enemies to England, it will be made possible to
+sign such a crew and put it aboard the steamer to be seized.
+
+"Her officers will, of course, be British. And I am afraid there may
+be a gun crew aboard. But that is nothing. We shall take her over when
+the time comes--probably off the Irish coast at night. Now, Soane, and
+you, Lehr, I want you to help recruit a picked crew, all Irish, all
+Sinn Feiners or members of the Clan-na-Gael.
+
+"You know the sort. Absolutely reliable, fearless, and skilled men
+devoted soul and body to the cause for which we all would so
+cheerfully die.... Will you do it?"
+
+There was a silence. Soane moistened his lips reflectively. Lehr,
+intelligent, profoundly interested, kept his keen, pleasant eyes on
+Murtagh Skeel. Only the droning electric fans, the rattle of a
+newspaper, the slap of greasy cards at the skat table, the slobbering
+gulp of some Teuton, guzzling beer, interrupted the sweltering quiet
+of the room.
+
+"Misther Murtagh, sorr," said Soane with a light, careless laugh,
+"I've wan recruit f'r to bring ye."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"Sure, it's meself, sorr--av ye'll sign the likes o' me."
+
+"Thanks; of course," said Skeel, with one of his rare smiles, and
+taking Soane's hand in comradeship.
+
+"I'll go," said Lehr, coolly; "but my name won't do. Call me Grogan,
+if you like, and I'll sign with you, Mr. Skeel."
+
+Skeel pressed the offered hand:
+
+"A splendid beginning," he said. "I wanted you both. Now, see what you
+can do in the Sinn Fein and Clan-na-Gael for a crew which, please God,
+we shall require very soon!"
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+A MIDNIGHT TÊTE-À-TÊTE
+
+
+When Dulcie had entered the studio that evening, her white face
+smeared with blood and a torn letter clutched in her hand, the
+gramophone was playing a lively two-step, and Barres and Thessalie
+Dunois were dancing there in the big, brilliantly lighted studio, all
+by themselves.
+
+Thessalie caught sight of Dulcie over Barres's shoulder, hastily
+slipped out of his arms, and hurried across the polished floor.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked breathlessly, a fearful intuition
+already enlightening her as her startled glance travelled from the
+blood on Dulcie's face to the torn fragments of paper in her rigidly
+doubled fingers.
+
+Barres, coming up at the same moment, slipped a firm arm around
+Dulcie's shoulders.
+
+"Are you badly hurt, dear? What has happened?" he asked very quietly.
+
+She looked up at him, mute, her bruised mouth quivering, and held out
+the remains of the letter. And Thessalie Dunois caught her breath
+sharply as her eyes fell on the bits of paper covered with her own
+handwriting.
+
+"There was a man hiding in the court," said Dulcie. "He wore a white
+cloth over his face and he came up behind me and tried to snatch your
+letter out of my hand; but I held fast and he only tore it in two."
+
+Barres stared at the sheaf of torn paper, lying crumpled up in his
+open hand, then his amazed gaze rested on Thessalie:
+
+"Is this the letter you wrote to me?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes. May I have the remains of my letter?" she asked calmly.
+
+He handed over the bits of paper without a word, and she opened her
+gold-mesh bag and dropped them in.
+
+There was a moment's silence, then Barres said:
+
+"Did he strike you, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes, when he thought he couldn't get away from me."
+
+"You hung on to him?"
+
+"I tried to."
+
+Thessalie stepped closer, impulsively, and framed Dulcie's pallid,
+blood-smeared face in both of her cool, white hands.
+
+"He has cut your lower lip inside," she said. And, to Barres: "Could
+you get something to bathe it?"
+
+Barres went away to his own room. When he returned with a finger-bowl
+full of warm water, some powdered boric acid, cotton, and a soft
+towel, Dulcie was lying deep in an armchair, her lids closed; and
+Thessalie sat beside her on one of the padded arms, smoothing the
+ruddy, curly hair from her forehead.
+
+She opened her eyes when Barres appeared, giving him a clear but
+inscrutable look. Thessalie gently washed the traces of battle from
+her face, then rinsed her lacerated mouth very tenderly.
+
+"It is just a little cut," she said. "Your lip is a trifle swelled."
+
+"It is nothing," murmured Dulcie.
+
+"Do you feel all right?" inquired Barres anxiously.
+
+"I feel sleepy." She sat erect, always with her grey eyes on Barres.
+"I think I will go to bed." She stood up, conscious, now, of her
+shabby clothes and slippers; and there was a painful flush on her face
+as she thanked Thessalie and bade her a confused good-night.
+
+But Thessalie took the girl's hand and retained it.
+
+"Please don't say anything about what happened," she said. "May I ask
+it of you as a very great favour?"
+
+Dulcie turned her eyes on Barres in silent appeal for guidance.
+
+"Do you mind not saying anything about this affair," he asked, "as
+long as Miss Dunois wishes it?"
+
+"Should I not tell my father?"
+
+"Not even to him," replied Thessalie gently. "Because it won't ever
+happen again. I am very certain of that. Will you trust my word?"
+
+Again Dulcie looked at Barres, who nodded.
+
+"I promise never to speak of it," she said in a low, serious voice.
+
+Barres took her down stairs. At the desk she pointed out, at his
+request, the scene of recent action. Little by little he discovered,
+by questioning her, what a dogged battle she had fought there alone in
+the whitewashed corridor.
+
+"Why didn't you call for help?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know.... I didn't think of it. And when he got away I was
+dizzy from the blow."
+
+At her bedroom door he took both her hands in his. The gas-jet was
+still burning in her room. On the bed lay her pretty evening dress.
+
+"I'm so glad," she remarked naïvely, "that I had on my old clothes."
+
+He smiled, drew her to him, and lightly smoothed the thick, bright
+hair from her brow.
+
+"You know," he said, "I am becoming very fond of you, Dulcie. You're
+such a splendid girl in every way.... We'll always remain firm
+friends, won't we?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And in perplexity and trouble I want you to feel that you can always
+come to me. Because--you do like me, don't you, Dulcie?"
+
+For a moment or two she sustained his smiling, questioning gaze, then
+laid her cheek lightly against his hands, which still held both of
+hers imprisoned. And for one exquisite instant of spiritual surrender
+her grey eyes closed. Then she straightened herself up; he released
+her hands; she turned slowly and entered her room, closing the door
+very gently behind her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the studio above, Thessalie, still wearing her rose-coloured cloak,
+sat awaiting him by the window.
+
+He crossed the studio, dropped onto the lounge beside her, and lighted
+a cigarette. Neither spoke for a few moments. Then he said:
+
+"Thessa, don't you think you had better tell me something about this
+ugly business which seems to involve you?"
+
+"I can't, Garry."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I shall not take the risk of dragging you in."
+
+"Who are these people who seem to be hounding you?"
+
+"I can't tell you."
+
+"You trust me, don't you?"
+
+She nodded, her face partly averted:
+
+"It isn't that. And I had meant to tell you something concerning this
+matter--tell you just enough so that I might ask your advice. In fact,
+that is what I wrote you in that letter--being rather scared and
+desperate.... But half my letter to you has been stolen. The people
+who stole it are clever enough to piece it out and fill in what is
+missing----"
+
+She turned impulsively and took his hands between her own. Her face
+had grown quite white.
+
+"How much harm have I done to you, Garry? Have I already involved you
+by writing as much as I did write? I have been wondering.... I
+couldn't bear to bring anything like that into your life----"
+
+"Anything like what?" he asked bluntly. "Why don't you tell me,
+Thessa?"
+
+"No. It's too complicated--too terrible. There are elements in it that
+would shock and disgust you.... And perhaps you would not believe
+me----"
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"The Government of a great European Power does not believe me to be
+honest!" she said very quietly. "Why should you?"
+
+"Because I know you."
+
+She smiled faintly:
+
+"You're such a dear," she murmured. "But you talk like a boy. What do
+you really know about me? We have met just three times in our entire
+lives. Do any of those encounters really enlighten you? If you were a
+business man in a responsible position, could you honestly vouch for
+me?"
+
+"Don't you credit me with common sense?" he insisted warmly.
+
+She laughed:
+
+"No, Garry, dear, not with very much. Even I have more than you, and
+that is saying very little. We are inclined to be irresponsible, you
+and I--inclined to take the world lightly, inclined to laugh, inclined
+to tread the moonlit way! No, Garry, neither you nor I possess very
+much of that worldly caution born of hardened wisdom and sharpened
+wits."
+
+She smiled almost tenderly at him and pressed his hands between her
+own.
+
+"If I had been worldly wise," she said, "I should never have danced my
+way to America through summer moonlight with you. If I had been wiser
+still, I should not now be an exile, my political guilt established,
+myself marked for destruction by a great European Power the instant I
+dare set foot on its soil."
+
+"I supposed your trouble to be political," he nodded.
+
+"Yes, it is." She sighed, looked at him with a weary little smile.
+"But, Garry, I am not guilty of being what that nation believes me to
+be."
+
+"I am very sure of it," he said gravely.
+
+"Yes, you would be. You'd believe in me anyway, even with the terrible
+evidence against me.... I don't suppose you'd think me guilty if I
+tell you that I am not--in spite of what they might say about
+me--might prove, apparently."
+
+She withdrew her hands, clasped them, her gaze lost in retrospection
+for a few moments. Then, coming to herself with a gesture of infinite
+weariness:
+
+"There is no use, Garry. I should never be believed. There are those
+who, base enough to entrap me, now are preparing to destroy me because
+they are cowardly enough to be afraid of me while I am alive. Yes,
+trapped, exiled, utterly discredited as I am to-day, they are still
+afraid of me."
+
+"Who are you, Thessa?" he asked, deeply disturbed.
+
+"I am what you first saw me--a dancer, Garry, and nothing worse."
+
+"It seems strange that a European Government should desire your
+destruction," he said.
+
+"If I really were what this Government believes me to be, it would not
+seem strange to you."
+
+She sat thinking, worrying her under lip with delicate white teeth;
+then:
+
+"Garry, do you believe that your country is going to be drawn into
+this war?"
+
+"I don't know what to think," he said bitterly. "The _Lusitania_ ought
+to have meant war between us and Germany. Every brutal Teutonic
+disregard of decency since then ought to have meant war--every unarmed
+ship sunk by their U-boats, every outrage in America perpetrated by
+their spies and agents ought to have meant war. I don't know how much
+more this Administration will force us to endure--what further
+flagrant insult Germany means to offer. They've answered the
+President's last note by canning Von Tirpitz and promising,
+conditionally, to sink no more unarmed ships without warning. But they
+all are liars, the Huns. So that's the way matters stand, Thessa, and
+I haven't the slightest idea of what is going to happen to my
+humiliated country."
+
+"Why does not your country prepare?" she asked.
+
+"God knows why. Washington doesn't believe in it, I suppose."
+
+"You should build ships," she said. "You should prepare plans for
+calling out your young men."
+
+He nodded indifferently:
+
+"There was a preparedness parade. I marched in it. But it only
+irritated Washington. Now, finally, the latest Mexican insult is
+penetrating official stupidity, and we are mobilising our State
+Guardsmen for service on the border. And that's about all we are
+doing. We are making neither guns nor rifles; we are building no
+ships; the increase in our regular army is of little account; some of
+the most vital of the great national departments are presided over by
+rogues, clowns, and fools--pacifists all!--stupid, dull, grotesque and
+impotent. And you ask me what my country is going to do. And I tell
+you that I don't know. For real Americans, Thessa, these last two
+years have been years of shame. For we should have armed and mobilised
+when the first rifle-shot cracked across the Belgian frontier at
+Longwy; and we should have declared war when the first Hun set his
+filthy hoof on Belgian soil.
+
+"In our hearts we real Americans know it. But we had no leader--nobody
+of faith, conviction, vision, action, to do what was the only thing to
+do. No; we had only talkers to face the supreme crisis of the
+world--only the shallow noise of words was heard in answer to God's
+own summons warning all mankind that hell's deluge was at hand."
+
+The intense bitterness of what he said had made her very grave. She
+listened silently, intent on his every expression. And when he ended
+with a gesture of hopelessness and disgust, she sat gazing at him out
+of her lovely dark eyes, deep in reflection.
+
+"Garry," she said at length, "do you know anything about the European
+systems of intelligence?"
+
+"No--only what I read in novels."
+
+"Do you know that America, to-day, is fairly crawling with German
+spies?"
+
+"I suppose there are some here."
+
+"There are a hundred thousand paid German spies within an hour's
+journey of this city."
+
+He looked up incredulously.
+
+"Let me tell you," she said, "how it is arranged here. The German
+Ambassador is the master spy in America. Under his immediate
+supervision are the so-called diplomatic agents--the personnel of the
+embassy and members of the consular service. These people do not
+class themselves as agents or as spies; they are the directors of
+spies and agents.
+
+"Agents gather information from spies who perform the direct work of
+investigating. Spies usually work alone and report, through local
+agents, to consular or diplomatic agents. And these, in turn, report
+to the Ambassador, who reports to Berlin.
+
+"It is all directed from Berlin. The personal source of all German
+espionage is the Kaiser. He is the supreme master spy."
+
+"Where have you learned these things, Thessa?" he asked in a troubled
+voice.
+
+"I have learned, Garry."
+
+"Are you--a spy?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you been?"
+
+"No, Garry."
+
+"Then how----"
+
+"Don't ask me; just listen. There are men here in your city who are
+here for no good purpose. I do not mean to say that merely because
+they seek also to injure me--destroy me, perhaps,--God knows what they
+wish to do to me!--but I say it because I believe that your country
+will declare war on Germany some day very soon. And that you ought to
+watch these spies who move everywhere among you!
+
+"Germany also believes that war is near. And this is why she strives
+to embroil your country with Japan and Mexico. That is why she
+discredits you with Holland, with Sweden. It is why she instructs her
+spies here to set fires in factories and on ships, blow up powder
+mills and great industrial plants which are manufacturing munitions
+for the Allies of the Triple Entente.
+
+"America may doubt that there is to be war between her and Germany,
+but Germany does not doubt it.
+
+"Let me tell you what else Germany is doing. She is spreading
+insidious propaganda through a million disloyal Germans and pacifist
+Americans, striving to poison the minds of your people against
+England. She secretly buys, owns, controls newspapers which are used
+as vehicles for that propaganda.
+
+"She is debauching the Irish here who are discontented with England's
+rule; she spends vast sums of money in teaching treachery in your
+schools, in arousing suspicion among farmers, in subsidising
+mercantile firms.
+
+"Garry, I tell you that a Hun is always a Hun; a Boche is always a
+Boche, call him what else you will.
+
+"The Germans are the monkeys of the world; they have imitated the
+human race. But, Garry, they are still what they always have been at
+heart, barbarians who have no business in Europe.
+
+"In their hearts--and for all their priests and clergymen and
+cathedrals and churches--they still believe in their old gods which
+they themselves created--fierce, bestial supermen, more cruel, more
+powerful, more treacherous, more beastly than they themselves.
+
+"That is the German. That is the Hun under all his disguises. No white
+man can meet him on his own ground; no white man can understand him,
+appeal to anything in common between himself and the Boche. He is
+brutal and contemptuous to women; he is tyrannical to the weak,
+cringing to the strong, fundamentally bestial, utterly selfish,
+intolerant of any civilisation which is not his conception of
+civilisation--his monkey-like conception of Christ--whom, in his pagan
+soul, he secretly sneers at--not always secretly, now!"
+
+She straightened up with a quick little gesture of contempt. Her face
+was brightly flushed; her eyes brilliant with scorn.
+
+"Garry, has not America heard enough of 'the good German,' the 'kindly
+Teuton,' the harmless, sentimental and 'excellent citizen,' whose
+morally edifying origin as a model emigrant came out of his own sly
+mouth, and who has, by his own propaganda alone, become an accepted
+type of good-natured thrift and erudition in your Republic?
+
+"Let me say to you what a French girl thinks! A hundred years ago you
+were a very small nation, but you were homogeneous and the average of
+culture was far higher in America then than it is at present. For now,
+your people's cultivation and civilisation is diluted by the ignorance
+of millions of foreigners to whom you have given hospitality. And, of
+these, the Germans have done you the most deadly injury, vulgarising
+public taste in art and literature, affronting your clean, sane
+intelligence by the new decadence and perversion in music, in
+painting, in illustration, in fiction.
+
+"Whatever the normal Hun touches he vulgarises; whatever the decadent
+Boche touches he soils and degrades and transforms into a horrible
+abomination. This he has done under your eyes in art, in literature,
+in architecture, in modern German music.
+
+"His filthy touch is even on your domestic life--this Barbarian who
+feeds grossly, whose personal habits are a by-word among civilised and
+cultured people, whose raw ferocity is being now revealed to the world
+day by day in Europe, whose proverbial clumsiness and stupidity have
+long furnished your stage with its oafs and clowns.
+
+"This is the thing that is now also invading you with thousands of
+spies, betraying you with millions of traitors, and which will one
+day turn on you and tear you and trample you like an enraged hog,
+unless you and your people awake to what is passing in the world you
+live in!"
+
+She was on her feet now, flushed, lovely, superb in her deep and
+controlled excitement.
+
+"I'll tell you this much," she said. "It is Germany that wishes my
+destruction. Germany trapped me; Germany would have destroyed me in
+the trap had I not escaped. Now, Germany is afraid of me, knowing what
+I know. And her agents follow me, spy on me, thwart me, prevent me
+from earning my living, until I--I can scarcely endure it--this
+hounding and persecution----" Her voice broke; she waited to control
+it:
+
+"I am not a spy. I never was one. I never betrayed a human soul--no,
+nor any living thing that ever trusted me! These people who hound me
+know that I am not guilty of that for which another Government is
+ready to try me--and condemn me. They fear that I shall prove to this
+other Government my innocence. I can't. But they fear I can. And the
+Hun is afraid of me. Because, if I ever proved my innocence, it would
+involve the arrest and trial and certain execution of men high in rank
+in the capital of this other country. So--the Hun dogs me everywhere I
+go. I do not know why he does not try to kill me. Possibly he lacks
+courage, so far. Possibly he has not had any good opportunity, because
+I am very careful, Garry."
+
+"But this--this is outrageous!" broke out Barres. "You can't stand
+this sort of thing, Thessa! It's a matter for the police----"
+
+"Don't interfere!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Don't interfere! The last thing I want is publicity. The last thing I
+wish for is that your city, state, or national government should
+notice me at all or have any curiosity concerning me or any idea of
+investigating my affairs."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because, although as soon as your country is at war with Germany, my
+danger from Germany ceases, on the other hand another very deadly
+danger begins at once to threaten me."
+
+"What danger?"
+
+"It will come from a country with which your country will be allied.
+And I shall be arrested here as a _German_ spy, and I shall be sent
+back to the country which I am supposed to have betrayed. And there
+nothing in the world could save me."
+
+"You mean--court-martial?"
+
+"A brief one, Garry. And then the end."
+
+"Death?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+After a few moments she moved toward the door. He went with her,
+picking up his hat.
+
+"I can't let you go with me," she said with a faint smile.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You are involved sufficiently already."
+
+"What do I care for----"
+
+"Hush, Garry. Do you wish to displease me?"
+
+"No, but I----"
+
+"Please! Call me a taxicab. I wish to go back alone."
+
+In spite of argument she remained smilingly firm. Finally he rang up a
+taxi for her. When it signalled he walked down stairs, through the dim
+hall and out to the grilled gateway beside her.
+
+"Good-bye," she said, giving her hand. He detained it:
+
+"I can't bear to have you go alone----"
+
+"I'm perfectly safe, mon ami. I've had a delightful time at your
+party--really I have. This affair of the letter does not spoil it. I'm
+accustomed to similar episodes. So now, good-night."
+
+"Am I to see you again soon?"
+
+"Soon? Ah, I can't tell you that, Garry."
+
+"When it is convenient then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And will you telephone me on your safe arrival home to-night?"
+
+She laughed:
+
+"If you wish. You're so sweet to me, Garry. You always have been.
+Don't worry about me. I am not in the least apprehensive. You see I'm
+rather a clever girl, and I know something about the Boche."
+
+"You had your letter stolen."
+
+"Only half of it!" she retorted gaily. "She is a gallant little thing,
+your friend Dulcie. Please give her my love. As for your other
+friends, they were amusing.... Mr. Mandel spoke to me about an
+engagement."
+
+"Why don't you consider it? Corot Mandel is the most important
+producer in New York."
+
+"Is he, really? Well, if I'm not interfered with perhaps I shall go to
+call on Mr. Mandel." She began to laugh mischievously to herself:
+"There was one man there who never gave me a moment's peace until I
+promised to lunch with him at the Ritz."
+
+"Who the devil----"
+
+"Mr. Westmore," she said demurely.
+
+"Oh, Jim Westmore! Well, Thessa, he's a corker. He's really a
+splendid fellow, but look out for him! He's also a philanderer."
+
+"Oh, dear. I thought he was just a sculptor and a rather strenuous
+young man."
+
+"I wasn't knocking him," said Barres, laughing, "but he falls in love
+with every pretty woman he meets. I'm merely warning you."
+
+"Thank you, Garry," she smiled. She gave him her hand again, pulled
+the rose-coloured cloak around her bare shoulders, ran across the
+sidewalk to the taxi, and whispered to the driver.
+
+"You'll telephone me when you get home?" he reminded her, baffled but
+smiling.
+
+She laughed and nodded. The cab wheeled out into the street, backed,
+turned, and sped away eastward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Half an hour later his telephone rang:
+
+"Garry, dear?"
+
+"Is it you, Thessa?"
+
+"Yes. I'm going to bed.... Tell Mr. Westmore that I'm not at all sure
+I shall meet him at the Ritz on Monday."
+
+"He'll go, anyway."
+
+"Will he? What devotion. What faith in woman! What a lively capacity
+for hope eternal! What vanity! Well, then, tell him he may take his
+chances."
+
+"I'll tell him. But I think you might make a date with me, too, you
+little fraud!"
+
+"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll drop in to see you unexpectedly some
+morning. And don't let me catch _you_ philandering in your studio with
+some pretty woman!"
+
+"No fear, Thessa."
+
+"I'm not at all sure. And your little model, Dulcie, is dangerously
+attractive."
+
+"Piffle! She's a kid!"
+
+"Don't be too sure of that, either! And tell Mr. Westmore that I _may_
+keep my engagement. And then again I may not! Good-night, Garry,
+dear!"
+
+"Good-night!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Walking slowly back to extinguish the lights in the studio before
+retiring to his own room for the night, Barres noticed a piece of
+paper on the table under the lamp, evidently a fragment from the torn
+letter.
+
+The words "Ferez Bey" and "Murtagh" caught his eye before he realised
+that it was not his business to decipher the fragment.
+
+So he lighted a match, held the shred of letter paper to the flame,
+and let it burn between his fingers until only a blackened cinder fell
+to the floor.
+
+But the two names were irrevocably impressed on his mind, and he found
+himself wondering who these men might be, as he stood by his bed,
+undressing.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+PROBLEMS
+
+
+The weather was turning hot in New York, and by the middle of the week
+the city sweltered.
+
+Barres, dropping his brushes and laying aside a dozen pictures in all
+stages of incompletion; and being, otherwise, deeply bitten by the
+dangerously enchanting art of Manship--dangerous as inspiration but
+enchanting to gaze upon--was very busy making out of wax a diminutive
+figure of the running Arethusa.
+
+And Dulcie, poor child, what with being poised on the ball of one
+little foot and with the other leg slung up in a padded loop, almost
+perished. Perspiration spangled her body like dew powdering a rose;
+sweat glistened on the features and shoulder-bared arms of the
+impassioned sculptor, even blinding him at times; but he worked on in
+a sort of furious exaltation, reeking of ill-smelling wax. And Dulcie,
+perfectly willing to die at her post, thought she was going to, and
+finally fainted away with an alarming thud.
+
+Which brought Barres to his senses, even before she had recovered
+hers; and he proclaimed a vacation for his overworked Muse and his
+model, too.
+
+"Do you feel better, Sweetness?" he enquired, as she opened her eyes
+when Selinda exchanged a wet compress for an ice-bag.
+
+Dulcie, flat on the lounge, swathed in a crash bathrobe, replied only
+by a slight but reassuring flutter of one hand.
+
+Esmé Trenor sauntered in for a gossip, wearing his celebrated
+lilac-velvet jacket and Louis XV slippers.
+
+"Oh, the devil," he drawled, looking from Dulcie to the Arethusa;
+"she's worth more than your amateurish statuette, Garry."
+
+"You bet she is. And here's where her vacation begins."
+
+Esmé turned to Dulcie, lifting his eyebrows:
+
+"You go away with him?"
+
+The idea had never before entered Barres's head. But he said:
+
+"Certainly; we both need the country for a few weeks."
+
+"You'll go to one of those damned artists' colonies, I suppose,"
+remarked Esmé; "otherwise, washed and unwashed would expel shrill
+cries."
+
+"Probably not in my own home," returned Barres, coolly. "I shall write
+my family about it to-day."
+
+Corot Mandel dropped in, also, that morning--he and Esmé were ever
+prowling uneasily around Dulcie in these days--and he studied the
+Arethusa through a foggy monocle, and he loitered about Dulcie's
+couch.
+
+"You know," he said to Barres, "there's nothing like dancing to
+recuperate from all this metropolitan pandemonium. If you like, I can
+let Dulcie in on that thing I'm putting on at Northbrook."
+
+"That's up to her," said Barres. "It's her vacation, and she can do
+what she likes with it----"
+
+Esmé interposed with characteristic impudence:
+
+"Barres imitates Manship with impunity; I'd like to have a plagiaristic
+try at Sorolla and Zuloaga, if Dulcie says the word. Very agreeable job
+for a girl in hot weather," he added, looking at Dulcie, "--an easy
+swimming pose in some nice cool little Adirondack lake----"
+
+"Seriously," interrupted Mandel, twirling his monocle impatiently by
+its greasy string, "I mean it, Barres." He turned and looked at the
+lithely speeding Arethusa. "If that is Dulcie, I can give her a good
+part in----"
+
+"You hear, Dulcie?" enquired Barres. "These two kind gentlemen have
+what they consider attractive jobs for you. All I can offer you is
+liberty to tumble around the hayfields at Foreland Farms, with my
+sketching easel in the middle distance. Now, choose your job,
+Sweetness."
+
+"The hayfields and----"
+
+Dulcie's voice faded to a whisper; Barres, seated beside her, leaned
+nearer, bending his head to listen.
+
+"And _you_," she murmured again, "--if you want me."
+
+"I always want you," he whispered laughingly, in return.
+
+Esmé regarded the scene with weariness and chagrin.
+
+"Come on," he said languidly to Mandel, "we'll buy her some flowers
+for the evil she does us. She'll need 'em; she'll be finished before
+this amateur sculptor finishes his blooming Arethusa."
+
+Mandel lingered:
+
+"I'm going up to Northbrook in a day or two, Barres. If you
+change--change Dulcie's mind for her, just call me up at the Adolf
+Gerhardt's."
+
+"Dulcie will call you up if she changes my mind."
+
+Dulcie laughed.
+
+When they had gone, Barres said:
+
+"You know I haven't thought about the summer. What was your idea about
+it?"
+
+"My--idea?"
+
+"Yes. You'd want a couple of weeks in the country somewhere, wouldn't
+you?"
+
+"I don't know. I never went away," she replied vaguely.
+
+It occurred to him, now, that for all his pleasant toleration of
+Soane's little daughter during the two years and more of his residence
+in Dragon Court, he had never really interested himself in her
+well-being, never thought to enquire about anything which might really
+concern her. He had taken it for granted that most people have some
+change from the stifling, grinding, endless routine of their
+lives--some respite, some quiet interval for recovery and rest.
+
+And so, returning from his own vacations, it never occurred to him
+that the shy girl whom he permitted within his precincts, when
+convenient, never knew any other break in the grey monotony--never
+left the dusty, soiled, and superheated city from one year's summer to
+another.
+
+Now, for the first time, he realised it.
+
+"We'll go up there," he said. "My family is accustomed to models I
+bring there for my summer work. You'll be very comfortable, and you'll
+feel quite at home. We live very simply at Foreland Farms. Everybody
+will be kind and nobody will bother you, and you can do exactly as you
+please, because we all do that at Foreland Farms. Will you come when
+I'm ready to go up?"
+
+She gave him a sweet, confused glance from her grey eyes.
+
+"Do you think your family would mind?"
+
+"Mind?" He smiled. "We never interfere with one another's affairs.
+It's not like many families, I fancy. We take it for granted that
+nobody in the family could do anything not entirely right. So we take
+that for granted and it's a jolly sensible arrangement."
+
+She turned her face on the pillow presently; the ice-bag slid off;
+she sat up in her bathrobe, stretched her arms, smiled faintly:
+
+"Shall I try again?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, Lord!" he said, "_would_ you? Upon my word, I believe you would!
+No more posing to-day! I'm not a murderer. Lie there until you're
+ready to dress, and then ring for Selinda."
+
+"Don't you want me?"
+
+"Yes, but I want you alive, not dead! Anyway, I've got to talk to
+Westmore this morning, so you may be as lazy as you like--lounge
+about, read----" He went over to her, patted her cheek in the smiling,
+absent-minded way he had with her: "Tell me, ducky, how are you
+feeling, anyway?"
+
+It confused her dreadfully to blush when he touched her, but she
+always did; and she turned her face away now, saying that she was
+quite all right again.
+
+Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he nodded:
+
+"That's fine," he said. "Now, trot along to Selinda, and when you're
+fixed up you can have the run of the place to yourself."
+
+"Could I have my slippers?" She was very shy even about her bare feet
+when she was not actually posing.
+
+He found her slippers for her, laid them beside the lounge, and
+strolled away. Westmore rang a moment later, but when he blew in like
+a noisy breeze Dulcie had disappeared.
+
+"My little model toppled over," said Barres, taking his visitor's
+outstretched hand and wincing under the grip. "I shall cut out work
+while this weather lasts."
+
+Westmore turned toward the Arethusa, laughed at the visible influence
+of Manship.
+
+"All the same, Garry," he said, "there's a lot in your running nymph.
+It's nice; it's knowing."
+
+"That is pleasant to hear from a sculptor."
+
+"Sculptor? Sometimes I feel like a sculpin--prickly heat, you know."
+He laughed heartily at his own witticism, slapped Barres on the
+shoulder, lighted a pipe, and flung himself on the couch recently
+vacated by Dulcie.
+
+"This damned war," he said, "takes the native gaiety out of a
+man--takes the laughter out of life. Over two years of it now, Garry;
+and it's as though the sun is slowly growing dimmer every day."
+
+"I know," nodded Barres.
+
+"Sure you feel it. Everybody does. By God, I have periods of sickness
+when the illustrated London periodicals arrive, and I see those dead
+men pictured there--such fine, clean fellows--our own kind--half of
+them just kids!--well, it hurts me to look at them, and, for the sheer
+pain of it, I'm always inclined to shirk and turn that page quickly.
+But I say to myself, 'Jim, they're dead fighting Christ's own battle,
+and the least you can do is to read their names and ages, and look
+upon their faces.'... And I do it."
+
+"So do I," nodded Barres, sombrely gazing at the carpet.
+
+After a silence, Westmore said:
+
+"Well, the Boche has taken his medicine and canned Tirpitz--the wild
+swine that he is. So I don't suppose we'll get mixed up in it."
+
+"The Hun is a great liar," remarked Barres. "There's no telling."
+
+"Are you going to Plattsburg again this year?" enquired Westmore.
+
+"I don't know. Are you?"
+
+"In the autumn, perhaps.... Garry, it's discouraging. Do you realise
+what a gigantic task we have ahead of us if the Hun ever succeeds in
+kicking us into this war? And what a gigantic mess we've made of two
+years' inactivity?"
+
+Barres, pondering, scowled at his own thoughts.
+
+"And now," continued the other, "the Guard is off to the border, and
+here we are, stripped clean, with the city lousy with Germans and
+every species of Hun deviltry hatching out fires and explosions and
+disloyal propaganda from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the Lakes
+to the Gulf!
+
+"A fine mess!--no troops, nothing to arm them with, no modern
+artillery, no preparations; the Boche growing more insolent, more
+murderous, but slyer; a row on with Mexico, another brewing with
+Japan, all Europe and Great Britain regarding us with contempt--I ask
+you, can you beat it, Garry? Are there any lower depths for us?--any
+sub-cellars of iniquity into which we can tumble, like the basket of
+jelly-fish we seem to be!"
+
+"It's a nightmare," said Barres. "Since Liège and the _Lusitania_,
+it's been a bad dream getting worse. We'll have to wake, you know. If
+we don't, we're of no more substance than the dream itself:--we _are_
+the dream, and we'll end like one."
+
+"I'm going to wait a bit longer," said Westmore restlessly, "and if
+there's nothing doing, it's me for the other side."
+
+"For me, too, Jim."
+
+"Is it a bargain?"
+
+"Certainly.... I'd rather go under my own flag, of course.... We'll
+see how this Boche backdown turns out. I don't think it will last. I
+believe the Huns have been stirring up the Mexicans. It wouldn't
+surprise me if they were at the bottom of the Japanese menace. But
+what angers me is to think that we have received with innocent
+hospitality these hundreds of thousands of Huns in America, and that
+now, all over the land, this vast, acclimated nest of snakes rises
+hissing at us, menacing us with their filthy fangs!"
+
+"Thank God our police is still half Irish," growled Westmore, puffing
+at his pipe. "These dirty swine might try to rush the city if war
+comes while the Guard is away."
+
+"They're doing enough damage as it is," said Barres, "with their
+traitorous press, their pacifists, their agents everywhere inciting
+labour to strike, teaching disorganisation, combining commercially,
+directing blackmail, bomb outrages, incendiaries, and infesting the
+Republic with a plague of spies----"
+
+The studio bell rang sharply. Barres, who stood near the door, opened
+it.
+
+"Thessa!" he exclaimed, astonished and delighted.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+BLACKMAIL
+
+
+She came in swiftly, stirring the sultry stillness of the studio with
+a little breeze from her gown, faintly fragrant.
+
+"Garry, dear!--" She gave him both her hands and looked at him; and he
+saw the pink tint of excitement in her cheeks and her dark eyes
+brilliant.
+
+"Thessa, this is charming of you----"
+
+"No! I came----" She cast a swift glance around her, beheld Westmore,
+gave him one hand as he came forward.
+
+"How do you do?" she said, almost breathlessly, plainly controlling
+some inward excitement.
+
+But Westmore retained her hand and laid the other over it.
+
+"You _said_ you'd come to the Ritz----"
+
+"I'm sorry.... I have been--bothered--with matters--affairs----"
+
+"You are bothered now," he said. "If you have something to say to
+Garry, I'll go about my business.... Only I'm sorry it's not your
+business, too."
+
+He released her hand and reached for the door-knob: her dark eyes were
+resting on him with a strained, intent expression. On impulse she
+thrust out her arm and closed the door, which he had begun to open.
+
+"Please--Mr. Westmore.... I do want to see you. I'm trying to think
+clearly--" She turned and looked at Barres.
+
+"Is it serious?" he said in a low voice.
+
+"I--suppose so.... Garry, I wish to--to come here ... and stay."
+
+"What!"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Is it all right?"
+
+"All right," he replied pleasantly, bewildered and almost inclined to
+laugh.
+
+She said in a low, tense voice.
+
+"I'm really in trouble, Garry. I told you once that the word was not
+in my vocabulary.... I've had to include it."
+
+"I'm so sorry! Tell me all about----"
+
+He checked himself: she turned to Westmore--a deeper flush came into
+her cheeks--then she said gravely:
+
+"I scarcely know Mr. Westmore, but if he is like you, Garry--your
+sort--perhaps he----"
+
+"He'd do anything for you, Thessa, if you'll let him. Have you
+confidence in me?"
+
+"You know I have."
+
+"Then you can have the same confidence in Jim. I suggest it because I
+have a hazy idea what your trouble is. And if you came to ask advice,
+then I think that you'll get double value if you include Jim Westmore
+in your confidence."
+
+She stood silent and with heightened colour for a moment, then her
+expression became humorous, and, partly turning, she put out her
+gloved hand behind her and took hold of Westmore's sleeve. It was at
+once an appeal and an impulsive admission of her confidence in this
+young man whom she had liked from the beginning, and who must be
+trustworthy because he was the friend of Garret Barres.
+
+"I'm scared half to death," she remarked, without a quaver in her
+voice, but her smile had now become forced, and a quick, uneven little
+sigh escaped her as she passed her arms through Barres' and
+Westmore's, and, moving across the carpet between them, suffered
+herself to be installed among the Chinese cushions upon the lounge by
+the open window.
+
+In her distractingly pretty summer hat and gown, and with her white
+gloves and gold-mesh purse in her lap--her fresh, engaging face and
+daintily rounded figure--Thessalie Dunois seemed no more mature, no
+more experienced in worldly wisdom, than the charming young girls one
+passes on Fifth Avenue on a golden morning in early spring.
+
+But Westmore, looking into her dark eyes, divined, perhaps, something
+less inexperienced, less happy in their lovely, haunted depths. And,
+troubled by he knew not what, he waited in silence for her to speak.
+
+Barres said to her:
+
+"You are being annoyed, Thessa, dear. I gather that much from what has
+already happened. Can Jim and I do anything?"
+
+"I don't know.... It's come to a point where I--I'm afraid--to be
+alone."
+
+Her gaze fell; she sat brooding for a few moments, then, with a quick
+intake of breath:
+
+"It humiliates me to come to you. Would you believe that of me, Garry,
+that it has come to a point where I am actually afraid to be alone? I
+thought I had plenty of what the world calls courage."
+
+"You have!"
+
+"I _had_. I don't know what's become of it--what has happened to
+me.... I don't want to tell you more than I have to----"
+
+"Tell us as much as you think necessary," said Barres, watching her.
+
+"Thank you.... Well, then, some years ago I earned the enmity of a
+man. And, through him, a European Government blacklisted me. It was a
+terrible thing. I did not fully appreciate what it meant at the time."
+She turned to Westmore in her pretty, impulsive way: "This European
+Government, of which I speak, believes me to be the agent of another
+foreign government--believes that I betrayed its interests. This man
+whom I offended, to punish me and to cover his own treachery,
+furnished evidence which would have convicted me of treachery and
+espionage."
+
+The excited colour began to dye her cheeks again; she stretched out
+one arm in appeal to Westmore:
+
+"Please believe me! I am no spy. I never was. I was too young, too
+stupid, too innocent in such matters to know what this man was
+about--that he had very cleverly implicated me in this abhorrent
+matter. Do you believe me, Mr. Westmore?"
+
+"Of course I do!" he said with a fervour not, perhaps, necessary. "If
+you'll be kind enough to point out that gentleman----"
+
+"Wait, Jim," interposed Barres, nodding to Thessalie to proceed.
+
+She had been looking at Westmore, apparently much interested in his
+ardour, but she came to herself when Barres interrupted, and sat
+silent again as though searching her mind concerning what further she
+might say. Slowly the forced smile curved her lips again. She said:
+
+"I don't know just what that enraged European Government might have
+done to me had I been arrested, because I ran away ... and came
+here.... But the man whom I offended discovered where I was and never
+for a day even have his agents ceased to watch me, annoy me----"
+
+There was a quick break in her voice; she set her lips in silence
+until the moment's emotion had passed, then, turning to Westmore with
+winning dignity: "I am a dancer and singer--an entertainer of sorts,
+by profession. I----"
+
+"Tell Westmore a little more, Thessa," said Barres.
+
+"If you think it necessary."
+
+"I'll tell him. Miss Dunois was the most celebrated entertainer in
+Europe when this happened. Since she came here the man she has
+mentioned has, somehow, managed to interfere and spoil every business
+arrangement which she has attempted." He looked at Thessa. "I don't
+know whether, if Thessalie had cared to use the name under which she
+was known all over Europe----"
+
+"I didn't dare, Garry. I thought that, if some manager would only give
+me a chance I could make a new name for myself. But wherever I went I
+was dogged, and every arrangement was spoiled.... I had my jewels....
+You remember some of them, Garry. I gave those away--I think I told
+you why. _But_ I had other jewels--unset diamonds given to my mother
+by Prince Haledine. Well, I sold them and invested the money.... And
+my income is all I have--quite a tiny income, Mr. Westmore, but
+enough. Only I could have done very well here, I think, if I had not
+been interfered with."
+
+"Thessa," said Barres, "why not tell us both a little more? We're
+devoted to you."
+
+The girl lifted her dark eyes, and unconsciously they were turned to
+Westmore. And in that young man's vigorous, virile personality perhaps
+she recognised something refreshing, subtlely compelling, for, still
+looking at him, she began to speak quite naturally of things which
+had long been locked within her lonely heart:
+
+"I was scarcely more than a child when General Count Klingenkampf
+killed my father. The Grand Duke Cyril hushed it up.
+
+"I had several thousand roubles. I had--trouble with the Grand
+Duke.... He annoyed me ... as some men annoy a woman.... And when I
+put him in his place he insulted the memory of my mother because she
+was a Georgian.... I slapped his face with a whip.... And then I had
+to run away."
+
+She drew a quick, uneven breath, smiling at Westmore from whose intent
+gaze her own dark eyes never wandered.
+
+"My father had been a French officer before he took service in
+Russia," she said. "I was educated in Alsace and then in England. Then
+my father sent for me and I returned to St. Peters--I mean Petrograd.
+And because I loved dancing my father obtained permission for me to
+study at the Imperial school. Also, I had it in me to sing, and I had
+excellent instruction.
+
+"And because I did such things in my own way, sometimes my father
+permitted me to entertain at the gay gatherings patronised by the
+Grand Duke Cyril."
+
+She smiled in reminiscence, and her gaze became remote for a moment.
+Then, coming back, she lifted her eyes once more to Westmore's:
+
+"I ran away from Cyril and went to Constantinople, where Von-der-Goltz
+Pasha and others whom I had met at the Grand Duke's parties, when
+little more than a child, were stationed. I entertained at the German
+Embassy, and at the Yildiz Palace.... I was successful. And my success
+brought me opportunities--of the wrong kind. Do you understand?"
+
+Westmore nodded.
+
+"So," she continued, with a slight movement of disdain, "I didn't
+quite see how I was to get to Paris all alone and begin a serious
+career. And one evening I entertained at the German Embassy--tell me,
+do you know Constantinople?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, it is nothing except a vast mass of gossip and intrigue. One
+breakfasts on rumours, lunches on secrets, and dines on scandals. And
+my maid told me enough that day to make certain matters quite clear to
+me.
+
+"And so I entertained at the Embassy.... Afterward it was no surprise
+when his Excellency whispered to me that an honest career was assured
+me if I chose, and that I might be honestly launched in Paris without
+paying the price which I would not pay.
+
+"Later I was not surprised, either, when Ferez Bey, a friend of my
+father, and a man I had known since childhood, presented me
+to--to----" She glanced at Barres; he nodded; she concluded to name
+the man: "--the Count d'Eblis, a Senator of France, and owner of the
+newspaper called _Le Mot d'Ordre_."
+
+After a silence she stole another glance at Barres; a smile hovered on
+her lips. He, also, smiled; for he, too, was thinking of that moonlit
+way they travelled together on a night in June so long ago.
+
+Her glance asked:
+
+"Is it necessary to tell Mr. Westmore this?"
+
+He shook his head very slightly.
+
+"Well," she went on, her eyes reverting again to Westmore, "the Count
+d'Eblis, it appeared, had fallen in love with me at first sight.... In
+the beginning he misunderstood me.... When he realised that I would
+endure no nonsense from any man he proved to be sufficiently
+infatuated with me to offer me marriage."
+
+She shrugged:
+
+"At that age one man resembled another to me. Marriage was a
+convention, a desirable business arrangement. The Count was in a
+position to launch me into a career. Careers begin in Paris. And I
+knew enough to realise that a girl has to pay in one way or another
+for such an opportunity. So I said that I would marry him if I came to
+care enough for him. Which merely meant that if he were ordinarily
+polite and considerate and companionable I would ultimately become his
+wife.
+
+"That was the arrangement. And it caused much trouble. Because I was
+a--" she smiled at Barres, "--a success from the first moment. And
+d'Eblis immediately began to be abominably jealous and unreasonable.
+Again and again he broke his promise and tried to interfere with my
+career. He annoyed me constantly by coming to my hotel at inopportune
+moments; he made silly scenes if I ventured to have any friends or if
+I spoke twice to the same man; he distrusted me--he and Ferez Bey, who
+had taken service with him. Together they humiliated me, made my life
+miserable by their distrust.
+
+"I warned d'Eblis that his absurd jealousy and unkindness would not
+advance him in my interest. And for a while he seemed to become
+more reasonable. In fact, he apparently became sane again, and I had
+even consented to our betrothal, when, by accident, I discovered
+that he and Ferez were having me followed everywhere I went. And
+that very night was to have been a gay one--a party in honour of our
+betrothal--the night I discovered what he and Ferez had been doing
+to me.
+
+"I was so hurt, so incensed, that--" She cast an involuntary glance at
+Barres; he made a slight movement of negation, and she concluded her
+sentence calmly: "--I quarrelled with d'Eblis.... There was a very
+dreadful scene. And it transpired that he had sold a preponderating
+interest in _Le Mot d'Ordre_ to Ferez Bey, who was operating the paper
+in German interests through orders directly from Berlin. And d'Eblis
+thought I knew this and that I meant to threaten him, perhaps
+blackmail him, to shield some mythical lover with whom, he declared, I
+had become involved, and who was betraying him to the British
+Ambassador."
+
+She drew a deep, long breath:
+
+"Is it necessary for me to say that there was not a particle of truth
+in his hysterical accusations?--that I was utterly astounded? But my
+amazement became anger and then sheer terror when I learned from his
+own lips that he had cunningly involved me in his transactions with
+Ferez and with Berlin. So cunningly, so cleverly, so seriously had he
+managed to compromise me as a German agent that he had a mass of
+evidence against me sufficient to have had me court-martialled and
+shot had it been in time of war.
+
+"To me the situation seemed hopeless. I never would be believed by the
+French Government. Horror of arrest overwhelmed me. In a panic I took
+my unset jewels and fled to Belgium. And then I came here."
+
+She paused, trembling a little at the memory of it all. Then:
+
+"The agents of d'Eblis and Ferez discovered me and have given me no
+peace. I do not appeal to the police because that would stir up secret
+agents of the French Government. But it has come now to a place
+where--where I don't know what to do.... And so--being afraid at
+last--I am here to--to ask--advice----"
+
+She waited to control her voice, then opened her gold-mesh bag and
+drew from it a letter.
+
+"Three weeks ago I received this," she said. "I ignored it. Two weeks
+ago, as I opened the door of my room to go out, a shot was fired at
+me, and I heard somebody running down stairs.... I was badly scared.
+But I went out and did my shopping, and then I went to the writing
+room of a hotel and wrote to Garry.... Somebody watching me must have
+seen me write it, because an attempt was made to steal the letter. A
+man wearing a handkerchief over his face tried to snatch it out of the
+hands of Dulcie Soane. But he got only half of the letter.
+
+"And when I got home that same evening I found that my room had been
+ransacked.... That was why I did not go to meet you at the Ritz; I was
+too upset. Besides, I was busy moving my quarters.... But it was no
+use. Last night I was awakened by hearing somebody working at the lock
+of my bedroom. And I sat up till morning with a pistol in my hand....
+And--I don't think I had better live entirely alone--until it is
+safer. Do you, Garry?"
+
+"I should think not!" said Westmore, turning red with anger.
+
+"Did you wish us to see that letter?" asked Barres.
+
+She handed it to him. It was typewritten; and he read it aloud,
+leisurely and very distinctly, pausing now and then to give full
+weight to some particularly significant and sinister sentence:
+
+  "MADEMOISELLE:
+
+  "For two years and more it has been repeatedly intimated to you
+  that your presence in America is not desirable to certain people,
+  except under certain conditions, which conditions you refuse to
+  consider.
+
+  "You have impudently ignored these intimations.
+
+  "Now, you are beginning to meddle. Therefore, this warning is sent
+  to you: _Mind your business and cease your meddling!_
+
+  "Moreover, you are invited to leave the United States at your
+  early convenience.
+
+  "France, England, Russia, and Italy are closed to you. Without
+  doubt you understand that. Also, doubtless you have no desire to
+  venture into Germany, Austria, Bulgaria, or Turkey. Scandinavia
+  remains open to you, and practically no other country except
+  Spain, because we do not permit you to go to Mexico or to Central
+  or South America. Do you comprehend? _We_ do not permit it.
+
+  "Therefore, hold your tongue and control your _furor scribendi_
+  while in New York. And make arrangements to take the next Danish
+  steamer for Christiania.
+
+  "This is a friendly warning. For if you are still here in the
+  United States two weeks after you have received this letter, other
+  measures will be taken in your regard which will effectually
+  dispose of your troublesome presence.
+
+  "The necessity which forces us to radical action in this affair is
+  regrettable, but entirely your own fault.
+
+  "You have, from time to time during the last two years, received
+  from us overtures of an amicable nature. You have been approached
+  with discretion and have been offered every necessary guarantee to
+  cover an understanding with us.
+
+  "You have treated our advances with frivolity and contempt. And
+  what have you gained by your defiance?
+
+  "Our patience and good nature has reached its limits. We shall ask
+  nothing further of you; we deliver you our orders hereafter. And
+  our orders are to leave New York immediately.
+
+  "Yet, even now, at the eleventh hour, it may not be too late for
+  us to come to some understanding if you change your attitude
+  entirely and show a proper willingness to negotiate with us in all
+  good faith.
+
+  "But that must be accomplished within the two weeks' grace given
+  you before you depart.
+
+  "You know how to proceed. If you try to play us false you had
+  better not have been born. If you deal honestly with us your
+  troubles are over.
+
+  "This is final.
+
+  "THE WATCHER."
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE WATCHER
+
+
+"The Watcher," repeated Barres, studying the typewritten signature for
+a moment longer. Then he looked at Westmore: "What do you think of
+that, Jim?"
+
+Westmore, naturally short tempered, became very red, got to his feet,
+and began striding about the studio as though some sudden blaze of
+inward anger were driving him into violent motion.
+
+"The thing to do," he said, "is to catch this 'Watcher' fellow and
+beat him up. That's the way to deal with blackmailers--catch 'em and
+beat 'em up--vermin of this sort--this blackmailing fraternity!--I
+haven't anything to do; I'll take the job!"
+
+"We'd better talk it over first," suggested Barres. "There seem to be
+several ways of going about it. One way, of course, is to turn
+detective and follow Thessa around town. And, as you say, spot any man
+who dogs her and beat him up very thoroughly. That's your way, Jim.
+But Thessa, unfortunately, doesn't desire to be featured, and you
+can't go about beating up people in the streets of New York without
+inviting publicity."
+
+Westmore came back and stood near Thessalie, who looked up at him from
+her seat on the Chinese couch with visible interest:
+
+"Mr. Westmore?"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Garry is quite right about the way I feel. I don't want notoriety. I
+can't afford it. It would mean stirring up every French Government
+agent here in New York. And if America should ever declare war on
+Germany and become an ally of France, then your own Secret Service
+here would instantly arrest me and probably send me to France to stand
+trial."
+
+She bent her pretty head, adding in a quiet voice:
+
+"Extradition would bring a very swift end to my career. With the lying
+evidence against me and a Senator of France to corroborate it by
+perjury--ask yourselves, gentlemen, how long it would take a military
+court to send me to the parade in the nearest caserne!"
+
+"Do you mean they'd shoot you?" demanded Westmore, aghast.
+
+"Any court-martial to-day would turn me over to a firing squad!"
+
+"You see," said Barres, turning to Westmore, "this is a much more
+serious matter than a case of ordinary blackmail."
+
+"Why not go to our own Secret Service authorities and lay the entire
+business before them?" asked Westmore excitedly.
+
+But Thessalie shook her head:
+
+"The evidence against me in Paris is overwhelming. My dossier alone,
+as it now stands, would surely condemn me without corroborative
+evidence. Your people here would never believe in me if the French
+Government forwarded to them a copy of my dossier from the secret
+archives in Paris. As for my own Government----" She merely shrugged.
+
+Barres, much troubled, glanced from Thessalie to Westmore.
+
+"It's rather a rotten situation," he said. "There must be, of course,
+some sensible way to tackle it, though I don't quite see it yet. But
+one thing is very plain to me: Thessa ought to remain here with us for
+the present. Don't you think so, Jim?"
+
+"How can I, Garry?" she asked. "You have only one room, and I couldn't
+turn you out----"
+
+"I can arrange that," interposed Westmore, turning eagerly to Barres
+with a significant gesture toward the door at the end of the studio.
+"There's the solution, isn't it?"
+
+"Certainly," agreed Barres; and to Thessalie, in explanation:
+"Westmore's two bedrooms adjoin my studio--beyond that wall. We have
+merely to unlock those folding doors and throw his apartment into
+mine, making one long suite of rooms. Then you may have my room and
+I'll take his spare room."
+
+She still hesitated.
+
+"I am very grateful, Garry, and I admit that I am becoming almost
+afraid to remain entirely alone, but----"
+
+"Send for your effects," he insisted cheerfully. "Aristocrates will
+move my stuff into Westmore's spare room. Then you shall take my
+quarters and be comfortable and well guarded with Aristocrates and
+Selinda on one side of you, and Jim and myself just across the
+studio." He cast a sombre glance at Westmore: "I suppose those rats
+will ultimately trail her to this place."
+
+Westmore turned to Thessalie:
+
+"Where are your effects?" he asked.
+
+She smiled forlornly:
+
+"I gave up my lodgings this morning, packed everything, and came here,
+rather scared." A little flush came over her face and she lifted her
+dark eyes and met Westmore's intent gaze. "You are very kind," she
+said. "My trunks are at the Grand Central Station--if you desire to
+make up my disconcerted mind for me. Do you really want me to come
+here and stay a few days?"
+
+Westmore suppressed himself no longer:
+
+"I won't _let_ you go!" he said. "I'm worried sick about you!" And to
+Barres, who sat slightly amazed at his friend's warmth:
+
+"Do you suppose any of those dirty dogs have traced the trunks?"
+
+Thessalie said:
+
+"I've never yet been able to conceal anything from them."
+
+"Probably, then," said Barres, "they have traced your luggage and are
+watching it."
+
+"Give me your checks, anyway," said Westmore. "I'll go at once and get
+your baggage and bring it here. If they're watching for you it will
+jolt them to see a man on the job."
+
+Barres nodded approval; Thessalie opened her purse and handed Westmore
+the checks.
+
+"You both are so kind," she murmured. "I have not felt so sheltered,
+so secure in many, many months."
+
+Westmore, extremely red again, controlled his emotions--whatever they
+were--with a visible effort:
+
+"Don't worry for one moment," he said. "Garry and I are going to
+settle this outrageous business for you. Now, I'm off to find your
+trunks. And if you could give me a description of any of these fellows
+who follow you about----"
+
+"Please--you are not to beat up anybody!" she reminded him, with a
+troubled smile.
+
+"I'll remember. I promise you not to."
+
+Barres said:
+
+"I think one of them is a tall, bony, one-eyed man, who has been
+hanging around here pretending to peddle artists' materials."
+
+Thessalie made a quick gesture of assent and of caution:
+
+"Yes! His name is Max Freund. I have found it impossible to conceal my
+whereabouts from him. This man, with only one eye, appears to be a
+friend of the superintendent, Soane. I am not certain that Soane
+himself is employed by this gang of blackmailers, but I believe that
+his one-eyed friend may pay him for any scraps of information
+concerning me."
+
+"Then we had better keep an eye on Soane," growled Westmore. "He's no
+good; he'll take graft from anybody."
+
+"Where is his daughter, Dulcie?" asked Thessalie. "Is she not your
+model, Garry?"
+
+"Yes. She's in my room now, lying down. This morning it was pretty hot
+in here, and Dulcie fainted on the model stand."
+
+"The poor child!" exclaimed Thessalie impulsively. "Could I go in and
+see her?"
+
+"Why, yes, if you like," he replied, surprised at her warm-hearted
+interest. He added, as Thessalie rose: "She is really all right again.
+But go in if you like. And you might tell Dulcie she can have her
+lunch in there if she wants it; but if she's going to dress she ought
+to be about it, because it's getting on toward the luncheon hour."
+
+So Thessalie went swiftly away down the corridor to knock at the door
+of the bedroom, and Barres walked out with Westmore as far as the
+stairs.
+
+"Jim," he said very soberly, "this whole business looks ugly to me.
+Thessa seems to be seriously entangled in the meshes of some
+blackmailing spider who is sewing her up tight."
+
+"It's probably a tighter web than we realise," growled Westmore. "It
+looks to me as though Miss Dunois has been caught in the main net of
+German intrigue. And that the big spider in Berlin did the spinning."
+
+"That's certainly what it looks like," admitted the other in a grave
+voice. "I don't believe that this is merely a local matter--an affair
+of petty, personal vengeance: I believe that the Hun is actually
+afraid of her--afraid of the evidence she might be able to furnish
+against certain traitors in Paris."
+
+Westmore nodded gloomily:
+
+"I'm pretty sure of it, too. They've tried, apparently, to win her
+over. They've tried, also, to drive her out of this country. Now, they
+mean to force her out, or perhaps kill her! Good God! Garry, did you
+ever hear of such filthy impudence as this entire German propaganda in
+America?"
+
+"Go and get her trunks," said Barres, deeply worried. "By the time you
+fetch 'em back here, lunch will be ready. Afterward, we'd all better
+get together and talk over this unpleasant situation."
+
+Westmore glanced at his watch, turned and went swinging away in his
+quick, energetic stride. Barres walked slowly back to the studio.
+
+There was nobody there. Thessalie had not yet returned from her visit
+to Dulcie Soane.
+
+The Prophet, however, came in presently, his tail politely hoisted. An
+agreeable aroma from the kitchen had doubtless allured him; he made an
+amicable remark to Barres, suffered himself to be caressed, then
+sprang to the carved table--his favourite vantage point for
+observation--and gazed solemnly toward the dining-room.
+
+For half an hour or more, Barres fussed and pottered about in the
+rather aimless manner of all artists, shifting canvases and stacking
+them against the wall, twirling his wax Arethusa around to inspect her
+from every possible and impossible angle, using clouds of fixitive on
+such charcoal studies as required it, scraping away meditatively at a
+too long neglected palette.
+
+He was already frankly concerned about Thessalie, and the more he
+considered her situation the keener grew his apprehension.
+
+Yet he, like all his fellow Americans, had not yet actually persuaded
+himself to believe in spies.
+
+Of course he read about them and their machinations in the daily
+papers; the spy scare was already well developed in New York; yet, to
+him and to the great majority of his fellow countrymen, people who
+made a profession of such a dramatic business seemed unreal--abstract
+types, not concrete examples of the human race--and he could not
+believe in them--could neither visualise such people nor realise that
+they existed outside melodrama or the covers of a best-seller.
+
+There is an incredulity which knows yet refuses to believe in its own
+knowledge. It is very American and it represented the paradoxical
+state of mind of this deeply worried young man, as he stood there in
+the studio, scraping away mechanically at his crusted palette.
+
+Then, as he turned to lay it aside, through the open studio door he
+saw a strange, bespectacled man looking in at him intently.
+
+An unpleasant shock passed through him, and his instinct started him
+toward the open door to close it.
+
+"Excuse," said he of the thick spectacles; and Barres stopped short:
+
+"Well, what is it?" he asked sharply.
+
+The man, who was well dressed and powerfully built, squinted through
+his spectacles out of little, inflamed and pig-like eyes.
+
+"Miss Dunois iss here?" he enquired politely. "I haff a message----"
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Excuse, please. My name iss not personally known to Miss Dunois----"
+
+"Then what is your business with Miss Dunois?"
+
+"Excuse, please. It iss of a delicacy--of a nature quite private, iff
+you please."
+
+Barres inspected him in hostile silence for a moment, then came to a
+swift conclusion.
+
+"Very well. Step inside," he said briefly.
+
+"I thank you, I will wait here----"
+
+"Step inside!" snapped Barres.
+
+Startled into silence, the man only blinked at him. Under the other's
+searching, suspicious gaze, the small, pig-like eyes were now shifting
+uneasily; then, as Barres took an abrupt step forward, the man shrank
+away and stammered out something about a letter which he was to
+deliver to Miss Dunois in private.
+
+"You say you have a letter for Miss Dunois?" demanded Barres, now
+determined to get hold of him.
+
+"I am instructed to giff it myself to her in private, all alone----"
+
+"Give it to _me_!"
+
+"I am instruc----"
+
+"Give it to me, I tell you!--and come inside here! Do you hear what
+I'm saying to you?"
+
+The spectacled man lost most of his colour as Barres started toward
+him.
+
+"Excuse!" he faltered, backing off down the corridor. "I giff you the
+letter!" And he hastily thrust his hand into the side pocket of his
+coat. But it was a pistol he poked under the other's nose--a shiny,
+lumpy weapon, clutched most unsteadily.
+
+"Hands up and turn me once around your back!" whispered the man
+hoarsely. "Quick!--or I shoot you!"--as the other, astounded, merely
+gazed at him. The man had already begun to back away again, but as
+Barres moved he stopped and cursed him:
+
+"Put them up your hands!" snarled the spectacled man, with a final
+oath. "Keep your distance or I kill you!"
+
+Barres heard himself saying, in a voice not much like his own:
+
+"You can't do this to me and get away with it! It's nonsense! This
+sort of thing doesn't go in New York!"
+
+Suddenly his mind grew coldly, terrible clear:
+
+"No, you _can't_ get away with it!" he concluded aloud, in the calm,
+natural voice of conviction. "Your stunt is scaring women! You try to
+keep clear of men--you dirty, blackmailing German crook! I've got your
+number! You're the 'Watcher'!--you murderous rat! You're afraid to
+shoot!"
+
+It was plain that the spectacled man had not discounted anything of
+this sort--plain now, to Barres, that if, indeed, murder actually had
+been meant, it was not his own murder that had been planned with that
+big, blunt, silver-plated pistol, now wavering wildly before his
+eyes.
+
+"I blow your face off!" whispered the stranger, beginning to back away
+again, and ghastly pale.
+
+"Keep out of thiss! I am not looking for you. Get you back; step once
+again inside that door away!----"
+
+But Barres had already jumped for him, had almost caught him, was
+reaching for him--when the man hurled the pistol straight at his face.
+The terrific impact of the heavy weapon striking him between the eyes
+dazed him; he stumbled sideways, colliding with the wall, and he
+reeled around there a second.
+
+But that second's leeway was enough for the bespectacled stranger. He
+turned and ran like a deer. And when Barres reached the staircase the
+whitewashed hall below was still echoing with the slam of the street
+grille.
+
+Nevertheless, he hurried down, but found the desk-chair empty and
+Soane nowhere visible, and continued on to the outer door, more or
+less confused by the terrific blow on the head.
+
+Of course the bespectacled man had disappeared amid the noonday
+foot-farers now crowding both sidewalks east and west, on their way to
+lunch.
+
+Barres walked slowly back to the desk, still dazed, but now thoroughly
+enraged and painfully conscious of a heavy swelling where the blow had
+fallen on his forehead.
+
+In the superintendent's quarters he found Soane, evidently just
+awakened after a sodden night at Grogan's, trying to dress.
+
+Barres said:
+
+"There is nobody at the desk. Either you or Miss Kurtz should be on
+duty. That is the rule. Now, I'm going to tell you something: If I
+ever again find that desk without anybody behind it, I shall go to the
+owners of this building and tell them what sort of superintendent you
+are! And maybe I'll tell the police, also!"
+
+"Arrah, then, Misther Barres----"
+
+"That's all!" said Barres, turning on his heel. "Anything more from
+you and you'll find yourself in trouble!"
+
+And he went up stairs.
+
+The lumpy pistol still lay there in the corridor; he picked it up and
+took it into the studio. The weapon was fully loaded. It seemed to be
+of some foreign make--German or Austrian, he judged by the marking
+which had been almost erased, deliberately obliterated, it appeared to
+him.
+
+He placed it in his desk, seated himself, explored his bruises
+gingerly with cautious finger-tips, concluded that the bridge of his
+nose was not broken, then threw himself back in his armchair for some
+grim and concentrated thinking.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+A CONFERENCE
+
+
+The elegantly modulated accents of Aristocrates, announcing the
+imminence of luncheon, aroused Barres from disconcerted but wrathful
+reflections.
+
+As he sat up and tenderly caressed his battered head, Thessalie and
+Dulcie came slowly into the studio together, their arms interlaced.
+
+Both exclaimed at the sight of the young man's swollen face, but he
+checked their sympathetic enquiries drily:
+
+"Bumped into something. It's nothing. How are you, Dulcie? All right
+again?"
+
+She nodded, evidently much concerned about his disfigured forehead; so
+to terminate sympathetic advice he went away to bathe his bruises in
+witch hazel, and presently returned smelling strongly of that
+time-honoured panacea, and with a saturated handkerchief adorning his
+brow.
+
+At the same time, there came a considerable thumping and bumping from
+the corridor; the bell rang, and Westmore appeared with the
+trunks--five of them. These a pair of brawny expressmen rolled into
+the studio and carried thence to the storeroom which separated the
+bedroom and bath from the kitchen.
+
+"Any trouble?" enquired Barres of Westmore, when the expressmen had
+gone.
+
+"None at all. Nobody looked at me twice. What's happened to your
+noddle?"
+
+"Bumped it. Lunch is ready."
+
+Thessalie came over to him:
+
+"I have included Dulcie among my confidants," she said in a low
+voice.
+
+"You mean you've told her----"
+
+"Everything. And I am glad I did."
+
+Barres was silent; Thessalie passed her arm around Dulcie's waist; the
+two men walked behind together.
+
+The table was a mass of flowers, over which netted sunlight played.
+Three cats assisted--the Prophet, always dignified, blinked pleasantly
+from a window ledge; the blond Houri, beside him, purred loudly. Only
+Strindberg was impossible, chasing her own tail under the patient feet
+of Aristocrates, or rolling over and over beneath the table in a
+mindless assault upon her own hind toes.
+
+Seated there in the quiet peace and security of the pleasant room,
+amid familiar things, with Aristocrates moving noiselessly about,
+sunlight lacing wall and ceiling, and the air aromatic with the scent
+of brilliant flowers, Barres tried in vain to realise that murder
+could throw its shadow over such a place--that its terrible menace
+could have touched his threshold, even for an instant.
+
+No, it was impossible. The fellow could not have intended murder. He
+was merely a blackmailer, suddenly detected and instantly frightened,
+pulling a gun in a panic, and even then failing in the courage to
+shoot.
+
+It enraged Barres to even think about it, but he could not bring
+himself to attach any darker significance to the incident than just
+that--a blackmailer, ready to display a gun, but not to use it, had
+come to bully a woman; had found himself unexpectedly trapped, and had
+behaved according to his kind.
+
+Barres had meant to catch him. But he admitted to himself that he had
+gone about it very unskilfully. This added disgust to his smouldering
+wrath, but he realised that he ought to tell the story.
+
+And after the rather subdued luncheon was ended, and everybody had
+gone out to the studio, he did tell it, deliberately including Dulcie
+in his audience, because he felt that she also ought to know.
+
+"And this is the present state of affairs," he concluded, lighting a
+cigarette and flinging one knee across the other, "----that my friend,
+Thessalie Dunois, who came here to escape the outrageous annoyance of
+a gang of blackmailers, is followed immediately and menaced with
+further insult on my very threshold.
+
+"This thing must stop. It's going to be stopped. And I suggest that we
+discuss the matter now and decide how it ought to be handled."
+
+After a silence, Westmore said:
+
+"You had your nerve, Garry. I'm wondering what I might have done under
+the muzzle of that pistol."
+
+Dulcie's grey eyes had never left Barres. He encountered her gaze now;
+smiled at its anxious intensity.
+
+"I made a botch of it, Sweetness, didn't I?" he said lightly. And, to
+Westmore: "The moment I suspected him he was aware of it. Then, when I
+tried to figure out how to get him into the studio, it was too late. I
+made a mess of it, that's all. And it's too bad, Thessa, that I
+haven't more sense."
+
+She gently shook her head:
+
+"You haven't any sense, Garry. That man might easily have killed you,
+in spite of your coolness and courage----"
+
+"No. He was just a rat----"
+
+"In a corner! You couldn't tell what he'd do----"
+
+"Yes, I could. He _didn't_ shoot. Moreover, he legged it, which was
+exactly what I was certain he meant to do. Don't worry about me,
+Thessa; if I didn't have brains enough to catch him, at least I was
+clever enough to know it was safe to try." He laughed. "There's
+nothing of the hero about me; don't think it!"
+
+"I think that Dulcie and I know what to call your behaviour," she said
+quietly, taking the silent girl's hand in hers and resting it in her
+lap.
+
+"Sure; it was bull-headed pluck," growled Westmore. "The drop is the
+drop, Garry, and you're no mind-reader."
+
+But Barres persisted in taking it humorously:
+
+"I read that gentleman's mind correctly, and his character, too."
+Then, to Thessalie: "You say you don't recognise him from my
+description?"
+
+She shook her head thoughtfully.
+
+"Garry," said Westmore impatiently, "if we're going to discuss various
+ways of putting an end to this business, what way do you suggest?"
+
+Barres lighted another cigarette:
+
+"I've been thinking. And I haven't a notion how to go about it, unless
+we turn over the matter to the police. But Thessa doesn't wish
+publicity," he added, "so whatever is to be done we must do by
+ourselves."
+
+Thessalie leaned forward from her seat on the lounge by Dulcie:
+
+"I don't ask that of you," she remonstrated earnestly. "I only wanted
+to stay here for a little while----"
+
+"You shall do that too," said Westmore, "but this matter seems to
+involve something more than annoyance and danger to you. Those
+miserable rascals are Germans and they are carrying on their impudent
+intrigues, regardless of American laws and probably to the country's
+detriment. How do we know what they are about? What else may they be
+up to? It seems to me that somebody had better investigate their
+activities--this one-eyed man, Freund--this handy gunman in
+spectacles--and whoever it was who took a shot at you the other
+day----"
+
+"Certainly," said Barres, "and you and I are going to investigate. But
+how?"
+
+"What about Grogan's?"
+
+"It's a German joint now," nodded Barres. "One of us might drop in
+there and look it over. Thessa, how do you think we ought to go about
+this affair?"
+
+Thessalie, who sat on the sofa with Dulcie's hand clasped in both
+of hers--a new intimacy which still surprised and pleasantly
+perplexed Barres--said that she could not see that there was
+anything in particular for them to do, but that she herself intended
+to cease living alone for a while and refrain from going about town
+unaccompanied.
+
+Then it suddenly occurred to Barres that if he and Dulcie went to
+Foreland Farms, Thessalie should be invited also; otherwise, she'd be
+alone again, except for the servants, and possibly Westmore. And he
+said so.
+
+"This won't do," he insisted. "We four ought to remain in touch with
+one another for the present. If Dulcie and I go to Foreland Farms, you
+must come, too, Thessa; and you, Jim, ought to be there, too."
+
+Nobody demurred; Barres, elated at the prospect, gave Thessalie a
+brief sketch of his family and their home.
+
+"There's room for a regiment in the house," he added, "and you will
+feel welcome and entirely at home. I'll write my people to-night, if
+it's settled. Is it, Thessa?"
+
+"I'd adore it, Garry. I haven't been in the country since I left
+France."
+
+"And you, Jim?"
+
+"You bet. I always have a wonderful time at Foreland."
+
+"Now, this is splendid!" exclaimed Barres, delighted. "If you
+disappear, Thessa, those German rats may become discouraged and give
+up hounding you. Anyway, you'll have a quiet six weeks and a complete
+rest; and by that time Jim and I ought to devise some method of
+handling these vermin."
+
+"Nobody," said Thessalie, smiling, "has asked Dulcie's opinion as to
+how this matter ought to be handled."
+
+Barres turned to meet Dulcie's shy gaze.
+
+"Tell us what to do, Sweetness!" he said gaily. "It was stupid of me
+not to ask for your views."
+
+For a few moments the girl remained silent, then, the lovely tint
+deepening in her cheeks, she suggested diffidently that the people who
+were annoying Thessalie had been hired to do it by others more easy to
+handle, if discovered.
+
+There was a moment's silence, then Barres struck his palm with doubled
+fist:
+
+"_That_," he said with emphasis, "is the right way to approach this
+business! Hired thugs can be handled in only two ways--beat 'em up or
+call in the police. And we can do neither.
+
+"But the men higher up--the men who inspire and hire these rats--they
+can be dealt with in other ways. You're right, Dulcie! You've started
+us on the only proper path!"
+
+Considerably excited, now, as vague ideas crowded in upon him, he sat
+smiting his knees, his brows knit in concentrated thought, aware that
+they were on the right track, but that the track was but a blind trail
+so far.
+
+Dulcie ventured to interrupt his frowning cogitation:
+
+"People of position and influence who hire men to do unworthy things
+are cowards at heart. To discover them is to end the whole matter, I
+think."
+
+"You're absolutely right, Sweetness! Wait! I begin to see--to see
+things--see something--interesting----"
+
+He looked up at Thessalie:
+
+"D'Eblis, Ferez Bey, Von-der-Goltz Pasha, Excellenz, Berlin--all these
+were mixed up with this German-American banker, Adolf Gerhardt, were
+they not?"
+
+"It was Gerhardt's money, I am sure, that bought the _Mot d'Ordre_
+from d'Eblis for Ferez--that is, for Berlin," she said.
+
+"Do you mean," asked Westmore, "the New York banker, Adolf Gerhardt,
+of Gerhardt, Klein & Schwartzmeyer, who has that big show place at
+Northbrook?"
+
+Barres smiled at him significantly:
+
+"What do you know about that, Jim! If we go to Foreland we're certain
+to be asked to the Gerhardt's! They're part of the Northbrook set;
+they're received everywhere. They entertain the personnel of the
+German and Austrian Embassies. Probably their place, Hohenlinden, is a
+hotbed of German intrigue and propaganda! Thessa, how about you? Would
+you care to risk recognition in Gerhardt's drawing-room, and see what
+information you could pick up?"
+
+Thessalie's cheeks grew bright pink, and her dark eyes were full of
+dancing light:
+
+"Garry, I'd adore it! I told you I had never been a spy. And that is
+absolutely true. But if you think I am sufficiently intelligent to do
+anything to help my country, I'll try. And I don't care how I do it,"
+she added, with her sweet, reckless little laugh, and squeezed
+Dulcie's hand tightly between her fingers.
+
+"Do you suppose Gerhardt would remember you?" asked Westmore.
+
+"I don't think so. I don't believe anybody would recollect me. If
+anybody there ever saw Nihla Quellen, it wouldn't worry me, because
+Nihla Quellen is merely a memory if anything, and only Ferez and
+d'Eblis know I am alive and here----"
+
+"And their hired agents," added Westmore.
+
+"Yes. But such people would not be guests of Adolf Gerhardt at
+Northbrook."
+
+"Ferez Bey might be his guest."
+
+"What of it!" she laughed. "I was never afraid of Ferez--never! He is
+a jackal always. A threatening gesture and he flees! No, I do not
+fear Ferez Bey, but I think he is horribly afraid of me.... I
+think, perhaps, he has orders to do me very serious harm--and dares
+not. No, Ferez Bey comes sniffing around after the fight is over. He
+does no fighting, not Ferez! He slinks outside the smoke. When it
+clears away and night comes he ventures forth to feed furtively on
+what is left. That is Ferez--my Ferez on whom I would not use a
+dog-whip--no!--merely a slight gesture--and he is gone like a swift
+shadow in the dark!"
+
+Fascinated by the transformation in her, the other three sat gazing at
+Thessalie in silence. Her colour was high, her dark eyes sparkled, her
+lips glowed. And the superb young figure so celebrated in Europe, so
+straight and virile, seemed instinct with the reckless gaity and
+courage which rang out in her full-throated laughter as she ended with
+a gesture and a snap of her white fingers.
+
+"For my country--for France, whose generous mind has been poisoned
+against me--I would do anything--anything!" she said. "If you think,
+Garry, that I have wit enough to balk d'Eblis, check Ferez, confuse
+the plotters in Berlin--well, then!--I shall try. If you say it is
+right, then I shall become what I never have been--a spy!"
+
+She sat for a moment smiling in her flushed excitement. Nobody spoke.
+Then her expression altered, subtlely, and her dark eyes grew
+pensive.
+
+"Perhaps," she said wistfully, "if I could serve my country in some
+little way, France might believe me loyal.... I have sometimes wished
+I might have a chance to prove it. There is nothing I would not risk
+if only France would come to believe in me.... But there seemed to be
+no chance for me. It is death for me to go there now, with that
+dossier in the secret archives and a Senator of France to swear my
+life away----"
+
+"If you like," said Westmore, very red again, "I'll go into the
+business, too, and help you nail some of these Hun plotters. I've
+nothing better to do; I'd be delighted to help you land a Hun or
+two."
+
+"I'm with you both, heart and soul!" said Barres. "The whole country
+is rotten with Boche intrigue. Who knows what we may uncover at
+Northbrook?"
+
+Dulcie rose and came over to where Barres sat, and he reached up
+without turning around, and gave her hand a friendly little squeeze.
+
+She bent over beside him:
+
+"Could I help?" she asked in a low voice.
+
+"You bet, Sweetness! Did you think you were being left out?" And he
+drew her closer and passed one arm absently around her as he began
+speaking again to Westmore:
+
+"It seems to me that we ought to stumble on something at Northbrook
+worth following up, if we go about it circumspectly, Jim--with all
+that Austrian and German Embassy gang coming and going during the
+summer, and this picturesque fellow, Murtagh Skeel, being lionised
+by----"
+
+Dulcie's sudden start checked him and he looked up at her.
+
+"Murtagh Skeel, the Irish poet and patriot," he repeated, "who wants
+to lead a Clan-na-Gael raid into Canada or head a death-battalion to
+free Ireland. You've read about him in the papers, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes ... I want to talk to you alone----" She blushed and dropped a
+confused little curtsey to Thessalie: "Would you please pardon my
+rudeness----"
+
+"You darling!" said Thessalie, blowing her a swift, gay kiss. "Go and
+talk to your best friend in peace!"
+
+Barres rose and walked away slowly beside Dulcie. They stood still
+when out of earshot. She said:
+
+"I have a few of my mother's letters.... She knew a young man whose
+name was Murtagh Skeel.... He was her dear friend. But only in secret.
+Because I think her father and mother disliked him.... It would seem
+so from her letters and his.... And she was--in love with him.... And
+he with mother.... Then--I don't know.... But she came to America with
+father. That is all I know. Do you believe he can be the same man?"
+
+"Murtagh Skeel," repeated Barres. "It's an unusual name. Possibly he
+is the same man whom your mother knew. I should say he might have been
+about your mother's age, Dulcie. He is a romantic figure now--one of
+those dreamy, graceful, impractical patriots--an enthusiast with one
+idea and that an impossible one!--the freedom of Ireland wrenched by
+force from the traditional tyrant, England."
+
+He thought a moment, then:
+
+"Whatever the fault, and wherever lies the blame for Ireland's unrest
+to-day, this is no time to start rebellion. Who strikes at England now
+strikes at all Freedom in the world. Who conspires against England
+to-day conspires with barbarism against civilisation.
+
+"My outspoken sympathy of yesterday must remain unspoken to-day. And
+if it be insisted on, then it will surely change and become hostility.
+No, Dulcie; the line of cleavage is clean: it is Light against
+Darkness, Right against Might, Truth against Falsehood, and Christ
+against Baal!
+
+"This man, Murtagh Skeel, is a dreamer, a monomaniac, and a dangerous
+fanatic, for all his winning and cultivated personality and the
+personal purity of his character.... It is an odd coincidence if he
+was once your mother's friend--and her suitor, too."
+
+Dulcie stood before him, her head a trifle lowered, listening to what
+he said. When he ended, she looked up at him, then across the studio
+where Westmore had taken her place on the sofa beside Thessalie. They
+both seemed to be absorbed in a conversation which interested them
+immensely.
+
+Dulcie hesitated, then ventured to take possession of Barres' arm:
+
+"Could you and I sit down over here by ourselves?" she asked.
+
+He smiled, always amused by her increasing confidence and affection,
+and always a little touched by it, so plainly she revealed herself, so
+quaintly--sometimes very quietly and shyly, sometimes with an ardent
+impulse too swift for self-conscious second thoughts which might have
+checked her.
+
+So they seated themselves in the carved compartments of an ancient
+choir-stall and she rested one elbow on the partition between them
+and set her rounded chin in her palm.
+
+"You pretty thing," he said lightly.
+
+At that she blushed and smiled in the confused way she had when
+teased. And at such times she never looked at him--never even
+pretended to sustain his laughing gaze or brave out her own
+embarrassment.
+
+"I won't torment you, Sweetness," he said. "Only you ought not to let
+me, you know. It's a temptation to make you blush; you do it so
+prettily."
+
+"Please----" she said, still smiling but vividly disconcerted again.
+
+"There, dear! I won't. I'm a brute and a bully. But honestly, you
+ought not to let me."
+
+"I don't know how to stop you," she admitted, laughing. "I could kill
+myself for being so silly. Why is it, do you suppose, that I blu----"
+
+She checked herself, scarlet now, and sat motionless with her head
+bent over her clenched palm, and her lip bitten till it quivered.
+Perhaps a flash of sudden insight had answered her own question before
+she had even finished asking it. And the answer had left her silent,
+rigid, as though not daring to move. But her bitten lip trembled, and
+her breath, which had stopped, came swiftly now, desperately
+controlled. But there seemed to be no control for her violent little
+heart, which was racing away and setting every pulse a faster pace.
+
+Barres, more uneasy than amused, now, and having before this very
+unwillingly suspected Dulcie of an exaggerated sentiment concerning
+him, inspected her furtively and sideways.
+
+"I won't tease you any more," he repeated. "I'm sorry. But you
+understand, Sweetness; it's just a friendly tease--just because we're
+such good friends."
+
+"Yes," she nodded breathlessly. "Don't notice me, please. I don't seem
+to know how to behave myself when I'm with you----"
+
+"What nonsense, Dulcie! You're a wonderful comrade. We have bully
+times when we're together. Don't we?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then, for the love of Mike! What's a little teasing between
+friends? Buck up, Sweetness, and don't ever let me upset you again."
+
+"No." She turned and looked at him, laughed. But there was a wonderful
+beauty in her grey eyes and he noticed it.
+
+"You little kiddie," he said, "your eyes are all starry like a baby's!
+You are not growing up as fast as you think you are!"
+
+She laughed again deliciously:
+
+"How wise you are," she said.
+
+"Aha! So you're joshing me, now!"
+
+"But aren't you very, very wise?" she asked demurely.
+
+"You bet I am. And I'm going to prove it."
+
+"How, please?"
+
+"Listen, irreverent youngster! If you are going to Foreland Farms with
+me, you will require various species of clothes and accessories."
+
+At that she was frankly dismayed:
+
+"But I can't afford----"
+
+"Piffle! I advance you sufficient salary. Thessalie had better advise
+you in your shopping----" He hesitated, then: "You and Thessa seem to
+have become excellent friends rather suddenly."
+
+"She was so sweet to me," explained Dulcie. "I hadn't cared for her
+very much--that evening of the party--but to-day she came into your
+room, where I was lying on the bed, and she stood looking at me for a
+moment and then she said, 'Oh, you darling!' and dropped on her knees
+and drew me into her arms.... Wasn't that a curious thing to happen?
+I--I was too surprised to speak for a minute; then the loveliest
+shiver came over me and I--I cuddled up close to her--because I had
+never remembered being in mother's arms--and it seemed wonderful--I
+had wanted it so--dreamed sometimes--and awoke and cried myself to
+sleep again.... She was so sweet to me.... We talked.... She told me,
+finally, about the reason of her visit to you. Then she told me about
+herself.... So I became her friend very quickly. And I am sure that I
+am going to love her dearly.... And when I love"--she looked steadily
+away from him--"I would die to serve--my friend."
+
+The girl's quiet ardour, her simplicity and candour, attracted and
+interested him. Always he had seemed to be aware, in her, of hidden
+forces--of something fresh and charmingly impetuous held in leash--of
+controlled impulses, restless, uneasy, bitted, curbed, and reined in.
+
+Pride, perhaps, a natural reticence in the opposite sex--perhaps the
+habit of control in a girl whose childhood had had no outlet--some of
+these, he concluded, accounted for her subdued air, her restraint from
+demonstration. Save for the impulsive little hand on his arm at times,
+the slightest quiver of lip and voice, there was no sign of the
+high-strung, fresh young force that he vaguely divined within her.
+
+"Dulcie," he said, "how much do you know about the romance of your
+mother?"
+
+She lifted her grey eyes to his:
+
+"What romance?"
+
+"Why, her marriage."
+
+"Was that a romance?"
+
+"I gather, from your father, that your mother was very much above him
+in station."
+
+"Yes. He was a gamekeeper for my grandfather."
+
+"What was your mother's name?"
+
+"Eileen."
+
+"I mean her family name."
+
+"Fane."
+
+He was silent. She remained thoughtful, her chin resting between two
+fingers.
+
+"Once," she murmured, as though speaking to herself, "when my father
+was intoxicated, he said that Fane is my name, not Soane.... Do you
+know what he meant?"
+
+"No.... His name is Soane, isn't it?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Well, what do you suppose he meant, if he meant anything?"
+
+"I don't quite know."
+
+"He _is_ your father, isn't he?"
+
+She shook her head slowly:
+
+"Sometimes, when he is intoxicated, he says that he isn't. And once he
+added that my name is not Soane but Fane."
+
+"Did you question him?"
+
+"No. He only cries when he is that way.... Or talks about Ireland's
+wrongs."
+
+"Ask him some time."
+
+"I have asked him when he was sober. But he denied ever saying it."
+
+"Then ask him when he's the other way. I--well, to be frank, Dulcie,
+you haven't the slightest resemblance to your father--not the
+slightest--not in any mental or physical particular."
+
+"He says I'm like mother."
+
+"And her name was Eileen Fane," murmured Barres. "She must have been
+beautiful, Dulcie."
+
+"She was----" A bright blush stained her face, but this time she
+looked steadily at Barres and neither of them smiled.
+
+"She was in love with Murtagh Skeel," said Dulcie. "I wonder why she
+did not marry him."
+
+"You say her family objected."
+
+"Yes, but what of that, if she loved him?"
+
+"But even in those days he may have been a troublemaker and
+revolutionist----"
+
+"Does that matter if a girl is in love?"
+
+In Dulcie's voice there was again that breathless tone through which
+something rang faintly--something curbed back, held in restraint.
+
+"I suppose," he said, smiling, "that if one is in love nothing else
+matters."
+
+"Nothing matters," she said, half to herself. And he looked askance at
+her, and looked again with increasing curiosity.
+
+Westmore called across the room:
+
+"Thessalie and I are going shopping! Any objections?"
+
+A sudden and totally unexpected dart seemed to penetrate the heart
+region of Garret Barres. It was jealousy and it hurt.
+
+"No objection at all," he said, wondering how the devil Westmore had
+become so familiar with her name in such a very brief encounter.
+
+Thessalie rose and came over:
+
+"Dulcie, will you come with us?" she asked gaily.
+
+"That's a first rate idea," said Barres, cheering up. "Dulcie, tell
+her what things you have and she'll tell you what you need for
+Foreland Farms."
+
+"Indeed I will," cried Thessalie. "We'll make her perfectly adorable
+in a most economical manner. Shall we, dear?"
+
+And she held out her hand to Dulcie, and, smiling, turned her head and
+looked across the room at Westmore.
+
+Which troubled Barres and left him rather silent there in the studio
+after they had gone away. For he had rather fancied himself as the
+romance in Thessalie's life, and, at times, was inclined to
+sentimentalise a little about her.
+
+And now he permitted himself to wonder how much there really might be
+to that agreeable sentiment he entertained for, perhaps, the prettiest
+girl he had ever met in his life, and, possibly, the most delightful.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+THE BABBLER
+
+
+The double apartment in Dragon Court, swept by such vagrant July
+breezes as wandered into the heated city, had become lively with
+preparations for departure.
+
+Barres fussed about, collecting sketching paraphernalia, choosing
+brushes, colours, canvases, field kits, and costumes from his
+accumulated store, and boxing them for transportation to Foreland
+Farms, with the languid assistance of Aristocrates.
+
+Westmore had only to ship a modelling stand, a handful of sculptors'
+tools, and a ton or two of Plasteline, an evil-smelling composite
+clay, very useful to work with.
+
+But the storm centre of preparation revolved around Dulcie. And
+Thessalie, enchanted with her new rôle as adviser, bargainer, and
+purchaser, and always attaching either Westmore or Barres to her
+skirts when she and Dulcie sallied forth, was selecting and
+accumulating a charming and useful little impedimenta. For the young
+girl had never before owned a single pretty thing, except those first
+unpremeditated gifts of Barres', and her happiness in these
+expeditions was alloyed with trepidation at Thessalie's extravagance,
+and deep misgivings concerning her ultimate ability to repay out of
+the salary allowed her as a private model.
+
+Intoxicated by ownership, she watched Thessalie and Selinda laying
+away in her brand-new trunk the lovely things which had been
+selected. And one day, thrilled but bewildered, she went into the
+studio, where Barres sat opening his mail, and confessed her fear that
+only lifelong devotion in his service could ever liquidate her
+overwhelming financial obligations to him.
+
+He had begun to laugh when she opened the subject:
+
+"Thessa is managing it," he said. "It looks like a lot of expense, but
+it isn't. Don't worry about it, Sweetness."
+
+"I _do_ worry----"
+
+"Now, what a ridiculous thing to do!" he interrupted. "It's merely
+advanced salary--your own money. I told you to blow it; I'm
+responsible. And I shall arrange it so you won't notice that you are
+repaying the loan. All I want you to do is to have a good time about
+it."
+
+"I am having a good time--when it doesn't scare me to spend so much
+for----"
+
+"Can't you trust Thessa and me?"
+
+The girl dropped to her knees beside his chair in a swift passion of
+gratitude:
+
+"Oh, I trust you--I do----" But she could not utter another word, and
+only pressed her face against his arm in the tense silence of emotions
+which were too powerful to express, too deep and keen to comprehend or
+to endure.
+
+And she sprang to her feet, flushed, confused, turning from him as he
+retained one hand and drew her back:
+
+"Dear child," he said, in his pleasant voice, "this is really a
+very little thing I do for you, compared to the help you have
+given me by hard, unremitting, uncomplaining physical labour and
+endurance. There is no harder work than holding a pose for painter
+or sculptor--nothing more cruelly fatiguing. Add to that your
+cheerfulness, your willingness, your quiet, loyal, unobtrusive
+companionship--and the freshness and inspiration and interest ever
+new which you always awake in me--tell me, Sweetness, are you really
+in my debt, or am I in yours?"
+
+"I am in yours. You made me."
+
+"You always say that. It's foolish. You made yourself, Dulcie. You are
+making yourself all the while. Why, good heavens!--if you hadn't had
+it in you, somehow, to ignore your surroundings--take the school
+opportunities offered you--close your eyes and ears to the sights and
+sounds and habits of what was supposed to be your home----"
+
+He checked himself, thinking of Soane, and his brogue, and his
+ignorance and his habits.
+
+"How the devil you escaped it all I can't understand," he muttered to
+himself. "Even when I first knew you, there was nothing resembling
+your--your father about you--even if you were almost in rags!"
+
+"I had been with the Sisters until I went to high school," she
+murmured. "It makes a difference in a child's mind what is said and
+thought by those around her."
+
+"Of course. But, Dulcie, it is usually the unfortunate rule that the
+lower subtly contaminates the higher, even in casual association--that
+the weaker gradually undermines the stronger until it sinks to lesser
+levels. It has not been so with you. Your clear mind remained
+untarnished, your aspiration uncontaminated. Somewhere within you had
+been born the quality of recognition; and when your eyes opened on
+better things you recognised them and did not forget after they
+disappeared----"
+
+Again he ceased speaking, aware, suddenly, that for the first time he
+was making the effort to analyse this girl for his own information.
+Heretofore, he had accepted her, sometimes curious, sometimes amused,
+puzzled, doubtful, even uneasy as her mind revealed itself by degrees
+and her character glimmered through in little fitful gleams from that
+still hidden thing, herself.
+
+He began to speak again, before he knew he was speaking--indeed, as
+though within him somewhere another man were using his lips and voice
+as vehicles:
+
+"You know, Dulcie, it's not going to end--our companionship. Your real
+life is all ahead of you; it's already beginning--the life which is
+properly yours to shape and direct and make the most of.
+
+"I don't know what kind of life yours is going to be; I know, merely,
+that your career doesn't lie down stairs in the superintendent's
+lodgings. And this life of ours here in the studio is only temporary,
+only a phase of your development toward clearer aims, higher
+aspiration, nobler effort.
+
+"Tranquillity, self-respect, intelligent responsibility, the
+happiness of personal independence are the prizes: the path on which
+you have started leads to the only pleasure man has ever really
+known--labour."
+
+He looked down at her hand lying within his own, stroked the slender
+fingers thoughtfully, noticing the whiteness and fineness of them, now
+that they had rested for three months from their patient martyrdom in
+Soane's service.
+
+"I'll talk to my mother and sister about it," he concluded. "All you
+need is a start in whatever you're going to do in life. And you bet
+you're going to get it, Sweetness!"
+
+He patted her hand, laughed, and released it. She couldn't speak just
+then--she tried to as she stood there, head averted and grey eyes
+brilliant with tears--but she could not utter a sound.
+
+Perhaps aware that her overcharged heart was meddling with her voice,
+he merely smiled as he watched her moving slowly back to Thessalie's
+room, where the magic trunk was being packed. Then he turned to his
+letters again. One was from his mother:
+
+  "Garry darling, anybody you bring to Foreland is always welcome,
+  as you know. Your family never inquires of its members concerning
+  any guests they may see fit to invite. Bring Miss Dunois and
+  Dulcie Soane, your little model, if you like. There's a world of
+  room here; nobody ever interferes with anybody else. You and your
+  guests have two thousand acres to roam about in, ride over, fish
+  over, paint over. There's plenty for everybody to do, alone or in
+  company.
+
+  "Your father is well. He looks little older than you. He's fishing
+  most of the time, or busy reforesting that sandy region beyond the
+  Foreland hills.
+
+  "Your sister and I ride as usual and continue to improve the
+  breeds of the various domestic creatures in which we are
+  interested and you are not.
+
+  "The pheasants are doing well this year, and we're beginning to
+  turn them out with their foster-mothers.
+
+  "Your father wishes me to tell you and Jim Westmore that the trout
+  fishing is still fairly good, although it was better, of course,
+  in May and June.
+
+  "The usual parties and social amenities continue in Northbrook.
+  Everybody included in that colony seems to have arrived, also the
+  usual influx of guests, and there is much entertaining, tennis,
+  golf, dances--the invariable card always offered there.
+
+  "Claire and I go enough to keep from being too completely
+  forgotten. Your father seldom bothers himself.
+
+  "Also, the war in Europe has made us, at Foreland, disinclined to
+  frivolity. Others, too, of the older society in Northbrook are
+  more subdued than usual, devote themselves to quieter pursuits.
+  And those among us who have sons of military age are prone to
+  take life soberly in these strange, oppressive days when even
+  under sunny skies in this land aloof from war, all are conscious
+  of the tension, the vague foreboding, the brooding stillness that
+  sometimes heralds storms.
+
+  "But all north-country folk do not feel this way. The Gerhardts,
+  for example, are very gay with a house full of guests and
+  overflowing week-ends. The German Embassy, as always, is well
+  represented at Hohenlinden. Your father won't go there at all now.
+  As for Claire and myself, we await political ruptures before we
+  indulge in social ones. And it doesn't look like war, now that Von
+  Tirpitz has been sent to Coventry.
+
+  "This, Garry darling, is my budget of news. Bring your guests
+  whenever you please. You wouldn't bring anybody you oughtn't to;
+  your family is liberal, informal, pleasantly indifferent, and
+  always delightfully busy with its individual manias and fads; so
+  come as soon as you please--sooner, please--because, strange as it
+  may seem, your mother would like to see you."
+
+The letter was what he had expected. But, as always, it made him very
+grateful.
+
+"Wonderful mother I have," he murmured, opening another letter from
+his father:
+
+  "DEAR GARRET:
+
+  "Why the devil don't you come up? You've missed the cream of the
+  fishing. There's nothing doing in the streams now, but at sunrise
+  and toward evening they're breaking nicely in the lake.
+
+  "I've put in sixty thousand three-year transplants this year on
+  that sandy stretch. They are white, Scotch and Austrian. Your
+  children will enjoy them.
+
+  "The dogs are doing well. There's one youngster, the litter-tyrant
+  of Goldenrod's brood, who ought to make a field winner. But
+  there's no telling. You and I'll have 'em out on native woodcock.
+
+  "There are some grouse, but we ought to let them alone for the
+  next few years. As for the pheasants, they're everywhere now, in
+  the brake, silver-grass, and weeds, peeping, scurrying,
+  creeping--cunning little beggars and growing wild as quail.
+
+  "The horses are all right. The crops promise well. Labour is
+  devilish scarce, and unsatisfactory when induced to accept
+  preposterous wages. What we need are coolies, if these lazy,
+  native slackers continue to handicap the farmers who have to
+  employ them. The American 'hired man'! He makes me sick. With few
+  exceptions, he is incredibly stupid, ignorant, unwilling, lazy.
+
+  "He's sometimes a crook, too; he takes pay for what he doesn't do;
+  he steals your time; he cares absolutely nothing about your
+  interests or convenience; he will leave you stranded in harvest
+  time, without any notice at all; decent treatment he does not
+  appreciate; he'll go without a warning even, leaving your horses
+  unfed, your cattle unwatered, your crops rotting!
+
+  "He's a degenerate relic of those real men who broke up the
+  primæval wilderness. He is the reason for high prices, the cause
+  of agricultural and industrial distress, the inert, sodden,
+  fermenting, indigestible mass in the belly of the body-politic!
+
+  "The American hired man! If the country doesn't spew him up, he'll
+  kill it!
+
+  "Perhaps you've heard me before on this subject, Garret. I'm
+  likely to air my views, you know.
+
+  "Well, my son, I look forward to your arrival. I am glad that
+  Westmore is coming with you. As for your other guests, they are
+  welcome, of course.
+
+  "Your father,
+
+  "REGINALD BARRES."
+
+He laughed; this letter so perfectly revealed his father.
+
+"Dad and his trout and his birds and his pines and his eternally
+accursed hired help," he said to himself, "Dad and his monocle and his
+immaculate attire--the finest man who ever fussed!" And he laughed
+tenderly to himself as he broke the seal of his sister's brief note:
+
+  "Garry dear, I've been so busy schooling horses and dancing that
+  I've had no time for letter writing. So glad you're coming at
+  last. Bring along any good novels you see. My best to Jim. Your
+  guests can be well mounted, if they ride. Father is wild because
+  there are more foxes than usual, but he's promised not to treat
+  them as vermin, and the Northbrook pack is to hunt our territory
+  this season, after all. Poor Dad! He is a brick, isn't he?"
+
+  "Affectionately,
+
+  "LEE."
+
+Barres pocketed his sheaf of letters and began to stroll about the
+studio, whistling the air of some recent musical atrocity.
+
+Westmore, in his own room, composing verses--a secret vice unsuspected
+by Barres--bade him "Shut up!"--the whistling no doubt ruining his
+metre.
+
+But Barres, with politest intentions, forgot himself so many times
+that the other man locked up his "Lines to Thessalie when she was
+sewing on a button for me," and came into the studio.
+
+"Where is she?" he inquired naïvely.
+
+"Where's who?" demanded Barres, still sensitive over the increasing
+intimacy of this headlong young man and Thessalie Dunois.
+
+"Thessa."
+
+"In there fussing with Dulcie's togs. Go ahead in, if you care to."
+
+"Is your stuff packed up?"
+
+Barres nodded:
+
+"Is yours?"
+
+"Most of it. How many trunks is Thessa taking?"
+
+"How do I know?" said Barres, with a trace of irritation. "She's at
+liberty to take as many as she likes."
+
+Westmore didn't notice the irritation; his mind was entirely occupied
+by Thessalie--an intellectual condition which had recently become
+rather painfully apparent to Barres, and, doubtless, equally if not
+painfully apparent to Thessalie herself.
+
+Probably Dulcie noticed it, too, but gave no sign, except when the
+serious grey eyes stole toward Barres at times, as though vaguely
+apprehensive that he might not be entirely in sympathy with Westmore's
+enchanted state of mind.
+
+As for Thessalie, though Westmore's naïve and increasing devotion
+could scarcely escape her notice, it was utterly impossible to tell
+how it affected her--whether, indeed, it made any impression at all.
+
+For there seemed to be no difference in her attitude toward these two
+men; it was plain enough that she liked them both--that she believed
+in them implicitly, was happy with them, tranquil now in her new
+security, and deeply penetrated with gratitude for their kindness to
+her in her hour of need.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Come on in," coaxed Westmore, linking his arm in Barres', and
+counting on the latter to give him countenance.
+
+The arm of Barres remained rigid and unresponsive, but his legs were
+reluctantly obliging and carried him along with Westmore to what had
+been his own room before Thessalie had installed herself there.
+
+And there she was on her knees, amid a riot of lingerie and feminine
+effects, while Dulcie lovingly smoothed out and folded object after
+object which Selinda placed between layers of pale blue tissue paper
+in the trunks.
+
+"How are things going, Thessa?" inquired Westmore, in the hearty,
+cheerful voice of the intruder who hopes to be made welcome. But her
+attitude was discouraging.
+
+"You know you are only in the way," she said. "Drive him out,
+Dulcie!"
+
+Dulcie laughed and looked at them both with shyly friendly eyes:
+
+"Is my trousseau not beautiful?" she asked. "If you'll step outside
+I'll put on a hat and gown for you----"
+
+"Oh, Dulcie!" protested Thessalie, "I want you to dawn upon them, and
+a dress rehearsal would spoil it all!"
+
+Westmore tiptoed around amid lovely, frail mounds of fabrics, until
+ordered to an empty chair and forbidden further motion. It was all the
+same to him, so long as his fascinated gaze could rest on Thessalie.
+
+Which further annoyed Barres, and he backed out and walked to the
+studio, considerably disturbed in his mind.
+
+"That man," he thought, "is making an ass of himself, hanging around
+Thessa like a half-witted child. She can't help noticing it, but she
+doesn't seem to do anything about it. I don't know why she doesn't
+squelch him--unless she likes it----" But the idea was so unpleasant
+to Barres that he instantly abandoned that train of thought and
+prepared for himself a comfortable nest on the lounge, a pipe, and an
+uncut volume of flimsy summer fiction.
+
+In the middle of these somewhat sullen preparations, there came a ring
+at his studio door. Only the superintendent or strangers rang that
+bell as a rule, and Barres went to his desk, slipped his loaded pistol
+into his coat pocket, then walked to the door and opened it.
+
+Soane stood there, his face a shiny-red from drink, his legs steady
+enough. As usual when drunk, he was inclined to be garrulous.
+
+"What's the matter?" inquired Barres in a low voice.
+
+"Wisha, Misther Barres, sorr, av ye're not too busy f'r to----"
+
+"S-h-h! Don't bellow at the top of your voice. Wait a moment!"
+
+He picked up his hat and came out into the corridor, closing the
+studio door behind him so that Dulcie, if she appeared on the scene,
+should not be humiliated before the others.
+
+Soane began again, but the other cut him short:
+
+"Don't start talking here," he said. "Come down to your own quarters
+if you're going to yell your head off!" And he led the way,
+impatiently, down the stairs, past the desk where Miss Kurtz sat
+stolid and mottled-faced as a lump of uncooked sausage, and into
+Soane's quarters.
+
+"Now, you listen to me first!" he said when Soane had entered and he
+had closed the door behind them. "You keep out of my apartment and out
+of Dulcie's way, too, when you're drunk! You're not going to last very
+long on this job; I can see that plainly----"
+
+"Faith, sorr, you're right! I'm fired out entirely this blessed
+minute!"
+
+"You've been discharged?"
+
+"I have that, sorr!"
+
+"What for? Drunkenness?"
+
+"Th' divil do I know phwat for! Wisha, then, Misther Barres, is there
+anny harrm av a man----"
+
+"Yes, there is! I told you Grogan's would do the trick for you. Now
+you're discharged without a reference, I suppose."
+
+Soane smiled airily:
+
+"Misther Barres, dear, don't lave that worrit ye! I want no riference
+from anny landlord. Sure, landlords is tyrants, too! An' phwat the
+divil should I be wantin'----"
+
+"What are you going to do then?"
+
+Soane hooked both thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and swaggered
+about the room:
+
+"God bless yer kind heart, sorr, I've a-plenty to do and more for good
+measure!" He came up to confront Barres, and laid a mysterious finger
+alongside his over-red nose and began to brag:
+
+"There's thim in high places as looks afther the likes o' me, sorr.
+There's thim that thrusts me, thim that depinds on me----"
+
+"Have you another job?"
+
+Soane's scorn was superb:
+
+"A job is ut? Misther Barres, dear, I was injuced f'r to accept a
+_position_ of grave importance!"
+
+"Here in town?"
+
+"Somewhere around tin thousand miles away or thereabouts," remarked
+Soane airily.
+
+"Do you mean to take Dulcie with you?"
+
+"Musha, then, Misther Barres, 'tis why I come to ye above f'r to ax ye
+will ye look afther Dulcie av I go away on me thravels?"
+
+"Yes, I will!... Where are you going? What is all this stuff you're
+talking, anyway----"
+
+"Shtuff? God be good to you, it's no shtuff I talk, Misther Barres!
+Sure, can't a decent man thravel f'r to see the wurruld as God made it
+an' no harrm in----"
+
+"Be careful what company you travel in," said Barres, looking at him
+intently. "You have been travelling around New York in very suspicious
+company, Soane. I know more about it than you think I do. And it
+wouldn't surprise me if you have a run-in with the police some day."
+
+"The po-lice, sorr! Arrah, then, me fut in me hand an' me tongue in me
+cheek to the likes o' thim! An' lave them go hoppin' afther me av
+they like. The po-lice is ut! Open y'r two ears, asthore, an' listen
+here!--there'll be nary po-lice, no nor constabulary, nor excise, nor
+landlords the day that Ireland flies her flag on Dublin Castle! Sure,
+that will be the grand sight, with all the rats a-runnin', an' all the
+hurryin' and scurryin' an' the futther and mutther----"
+
+"_What_ are you gabbling about, Soane? What's all this boasting
+about?"
+
+"Gabble is ut? Is it boastin' I am? Sorra the day! An' there do be
+grand gintlemen and gay ladies to-day that shall look for a roof an' a
+sup o' tay this day three weeks, when th' fut o' the tyrant is lifted
+from the neck of Ireland an' the landlords is runnin' for their
+lives----"
+
+"I thought so!" exclaimed Barres, disgusted.
+
+"An' phwat was ye thinkin', sorr?"
+
+"That your German friends at Grogan's are stirring up trouble among
+the Irish. What's all this nonsense, anyway? Are they trying to
+persuade you to follow the old Fenian tactics and raid Canada? Or is
+it an armed expedition to the Irish coast? You'd better be careful;
+they'll only lock you up here, but it's a hanging matter over there!"
+
+"Is it so?" grinned Soane.
+
+"It surely is."
+
+"Well, then, be aisy, Misther Barres, dear. Av there's hangin' to be
+done this time, 'twill not be thim as wears the green that hangs!"
+
+Barres slowly shook his head:
+
+"This is German work. You're sticking your neck into the noose."
+
+"Lave the noose for the Clan-na-Gael to pull, sorr, an' 'twill
+shqueeze no Irish neck!"
+
+"You're a fool, Soane! These Germans are exploiting such men as you.
+Where's your common sense? Can't you see you're playing a German game?
+What do they care what becomes of you or of Ireland? All they want is
+for you to annoy England at any cost. And the cost is death! Do you
+dream for an instant that you and your friends stand a ghost of a
+chance if you are crazy enough to invade Canada? Do you suppose it
+possible to land an expedition on the Irish coast?"
+
+Soane deliberately winked at him. Then he burst into laughter and
+stood rocking there on heel and toe while his mirth lasted.
+
+But the inevitable Celtic reaction presently sobered him and switched
+him into a sombre recapitulation of Erin's wrongs. And this tragic
+inventory brought the inevitable tears in time. And Woe awoke in him
+the memory of the personal and pathetic.
+
+The world had dealt him a wretched hand. He had sat in a crooked game
+from the beginning. The cards had been stacked; the dice were cogged.
+And now he meant to make the world disgorge--pay up the living that it
+owed him.
+
+Barres attempted to stem the flow of volubility, but it instantly
+became a torrent.
+
+Nobody knew the sorrows of Ireland or of the Irish. Tyranny had marked
+them for its own. As for himself--once a broth of a boy--he had been
+torn from the sacred precincts of his native shanty and consigned to a
+loveless, unhappy marriage.
+
+Then Barres listened without interrupting. But the woes of Soane
+became vague at that point. Veiled references to being "thrampled on,"
+to "th' big house," to "thim that was high an' shtiff-necked,"
+abounded in an unconnected way. There was something about being a
+servant at the fireside of his own wife--a footstool on the hearth of
+his own home--other incomprehensible plaints and mutterings, many
+scalding tears, a blub or two, and a sort of whining silence.
+
+Then Barres said:
+
+"Who is Dulcie, Soane?"
+
+The man, seated now on his bed, lifted a congested and stupid visage
+as though he had not comprehended.
+
+"Is Dulcie your daughter?" demanded Barres.
+
+Soane's blue eyes wandered wildly in an agony of recollection:
+
+"Did I say she was _not_, sorr?" he faltered. "Av I told ye that, may
+the saints forgive me----"
+
+"Is it true?"
+
+"Ah, what was I afther sayin', Misther----"
+
+"Never mind what you said or left unsaid! I want to ask you another
+question. Who was Eileen Fane?"
+
+Soane bounded to his feet, his blue eyes ablaze:
+
+"Holy Mother o' God! What have I said!"
+
+"Was Eileen Fane your wife?"
+
+"Did I say her blessed name!" shouted Soane. "Sorra the sup I tuk that
+loosed the tongue o' me this cursed day! 'Twas the dommed whishkey
+inside o' me that told ye that--not me--not Larry Soane! Wurra the day
+I said it! An' listen, now, f'r the love o' God! Take pride to
+yourself, sorr, for all the goodness ye done to Dulcie.
+
+"An' av I go, and I come no more to vex her, I thank God 'tis in a
+gintleman's hands the child do be----" He choked; his marred hands
+dropped by his side, and he stared dumbly at Barres for a moment.
+Then:
+
+"Av I come no more, will ye guard her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Will ye do fair by her, Misther Barres?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Call God to hear ye say ut!"
+
+"So--help me--God."
+
+Soane dropped on to the bed and took his battered face and curly head
+between his hands.
+
+"I'll say no more," he said thickly. "Nor you nor she shall know no
+more. An' av ye have guessed it out, kape it locked in. I'll say no
+more.... I was good to her--in me own way. But ye cud see--anny wan
+with half a cock-eye cud see.... I was--honest--with her mother....
+She made the bargain.... I tuk me pay an' held me tongue.... 'Tis
+whishkey talks, not me.... I tuk me pay an' I kept to the bargain....
+Wan year.... Then--she was dead of it--like a flower, sorr--like the
+rose ye pull an' lave lyin' in the sun.... Like that, sorr--in a
+year.... An' I done me best be Dulcie.... I done me best. An' held to
+the bargain.... An' done me best be Dulcie--little Dulcie--the wee
+baby that had come at last--_her_ baby--Dulcie Fane!..."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+A CHANCE ENCOUNTER
+
+
+A single shaded lamp illuminated the studio, making the shapes of
+things vague where outline and colour were lost in the golden dusk.
+Dulcie, alone at the piano, accompanied her own voice with soft,
+scarcely heard harmonies, as she hummed, one after another, old
+melodies she had learned from the Sisters so long ago--"The Harp,"
+"Shandon Bells," "The Exile," "Shannon Water"--songs of that sort and
+period:
+
+    "_The Bells of Shandon,
+    Then sound so grand on
+  The pleasant waters of the River Lee._"
+
+Thessalie sat by the open window and Westmore squatted at her feet on
+the sill of the little balcony, doing, as usual, all the talking while
+she lay deep in her armchair waving her fan, listening, responding
+with a low-voiced laugh or word now and again.
+
+Dulcie sang:
+
+    "_On the banks of the Shannon
+  When Mary was nigh._"
+
+From that she changed to a haunting, poignant little song; and Barres
+looked up from his desk under the lamp. Then he sealed and stamped the
+three letters which he had written to his Foreland kinfolk, and,
+holding them in one hand, took his hat from the table with the other,
+as though preparing to rise. Dulcie half turned her head, her hands
+still idling over the shadowy keys:
+
+"Are you going out?"
+
+"Just to the corner."
+
+"Why don't you mail your letters down stairs?"
+
+"I'll step around to the branch post office; they'll go quicker....
+What was that air you were playing just now?"
+
+"It is called 'Mea Culpa.'"
+
+"Play it again."
+
+She turned to the keys, recommenced the Celtic air, and sang in a
+clear, childish voice:
+
+  "Wake, little maid!
+  Red dawns the morn,
+  The last stars fade,
+  The day is born;
+  Now the first lark wings high in air,
+  And sings the Virgin's praises there!
+
+  "I am afraid
+  To see the morn;
+  I lie dismayed
+  Beside the thorn.
+  Gazing at God with frightened eyes,
+  Where larks are singing in the skies.
+
+      II
+
+  "Why, mourn, dear maid,
+  Alone, forlorn,
+  White and afraid
+  Beside the thorn,
+  With weeping eyes and sobbing breath
+  And fair sweet face as pale as death?
+
+  "For love repayed
+  By Mary's scorn,
+  I weep, betrayed
+  By one unborn!
+  Where can a poor lass hide her head
+  Till day be done and she be dead!"
+
+The voice and playing lingered among the golden shadows, hushed to a
+whisper, ceased.
+
+"Is it very old, that sad little song?" he asked at last.
+
+"My mother wrote it.... There is the _Mea Culpa_, still, which ends
+it. Shall I sing it?"
+
+"Go on," he nodded.
+
+So she sang the _Mea Culpa_:
+
+      III
+
+    "Winds in the whinns
+     Shall kene for me--
+  (_For Love is Love though men be men!_)
+     Till all my sins
+     Forgiven be--
+  (_Maxima culpa, Lord. Amen._)
+     And Mary's grace my fault shall purge,
+     While skylarks plead my cause above,
+     And breezy rivers sing my dirge,
+     Because I loved and died of Love.
+  (_I love, and die of Love!_)
+               Amen."
+
+When the soft cadence of the last notes was stilled, Dulcie turned
+once more toward him in the uncertain light.
+
+"It's very lovely," he said, "and dreadfully triste. The air alone is
+enough to break your heart."
+
+"My mother, when she wrote it, was unhappy, I imagine----" She swung
+slowly around to face the keys again.
+
+"Do you know why she was so unhappy?"
+
+"She fell in love," said the girl over her shoulder. "And it saddened
+her life, I think."
+
+He sat motionless for a while. Dulcie did not turn again. Presently he
+rose and walked slowly out and down stairs, carrying his letters with
+him.
+
+The stolid, mottled-faced German girl was on duty at the desk, and she
+favoured him with a sour look, as usual.
+
+"There was a gen'l'man to see you," she mumbled.
+
+"When?"
+
+"Just now. I didn't know you was in."
+
+"Well, why didn't you ring up the apartment and find out?" he
+demanded.
+
+She gave him a sullen look:
+
+"Here's his card," she said, shoving it across the desk.
+
+Barres picked up the card. "Georges Renoux, Architect," he read.
+"Hotel Astor" was pencilled in the corner.
+
+Barres knit his brows, trying to evoke in his memory a physiognomy to
+fit a name which seemed hazily familiar.
+
+"Did the gentleman leave any message?" he asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, please don't make another mistake of this kind," he said.
+
+She stared at him like a sulky sow, her little eyes red with malice.
+
+"Where is Soane?" he inquired.
+
+"Out."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"I didn't ask him," she replied, with a slight sneer.
+
+"I wish to see him," continued Barres patiently. "Could you tell me
+whether he was likely to go to Grogans?"
+
+"What's Grogan's?"
+
+"Grogan's Café on Third Avenue--where Soane hangs out," he managed to
+explain calmly. "You know where it is. You have called him up there."
+
+"I don't know nothin' about it," she grunted, resuming the greasy
+novel she had been reading.
+
+But when Barres, now thoroughly incensed, turned to leave, her small,
+pig-like eyes peeped slyly after him. And after he had disappeared
+through the corridor into the street she hastily unhooked the
+transmitter and called Grogan's.
+
+"This is Martha.... Martha Kurtz. Yes, I want Frank Lehr.... Is that
+you, Frank?... The artist, Barres, who was pumping Soane the other
+night, is after him again. I told you how I listened at the door, and
+how I heard that Irish souse blabbing and bragging.... What?...
+Sure!... Barres was at the desk just now inquiring if Soane had gone
+to Grogan's.... You bet!... Barres is leery since _K17_ hit him with a
+gun. Sure; he's stickin' his nose into everything.... Look out for
+him, if he comes around Grogan's askin' for Soane.... And say; there
+was a French guy here callin' on Barres. I knew he was in, but I said
+he was out. I was just goin' to call you when Barres came down....
+Yes, I got his name.... Wait, I copied it out.... Here it is, 'Georges
+Renoux, Architect.' And he wrote 'Hotel Astor' in the corner.
+
+"Yes, he said tell Barres to call him up. Naw, I didn't give him the
+message.... You don't say! Is that right? He's one o' them nosey
+Frenchman? _A captain_?... Gee!... What's his lay?... In New York?
+Well, you better watch out then.... Sure, I'll ring you if he comes
+back!... No, there ain't no news.... Yes, I was to the Astor grille
+last night, and I talked to _K17_.... There was a guy higher up there.
+I don't know who. He looked like he was a dark complected Jew....
+_Ferez Bey_?... Gee!... You expect Skeel? To-night? Doin' _what_? You
+think this man Renoux is watchin' the Clan-na-Gael? Well, you better
+tell Soane to shut his mouth then.
+
+"Yes, that Dunois girl is here still. It's a pity _K17_ lost his
+nerve.... Well, you better look out for her and for Barres, too.
+They're as thick as last year honey!
+
+"All right, I'll let you know anything. Bye-bye."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres, walking leisurely up the street, kept watching for Soane
+somewhere along the block; but could see nobody in the darkness,
+resembling him.
+
+Outdoors the July night was cooler; young girls, hatless, in summer
+frocks, gathered on stoops or strolled through the lamplit dark.
+Somewhere a piano sounded, not unpleasantly.
+
+In the branch post office he mailed his letters, turned to go out, and
+caught sight of Soane passing along the sidewalk just outside.
+
+And with him was the one-eyed man, Max Freund--the man who, perhaps,
+had robbed Dulcie of half the letter.
+
+His first emotion was sheer anger, and it started him toward the door,
+bent on swift but unconsidered vengeance.
+
+But before this impulse culminated in his collaring the one-eyed man,
+sufficient common sense came to the rescue. A row meant publicity, and
+an inquiry by authority would certainly involve the writer of the
+partly stolen letter--Thessalie Dunois.
+
+Cool and collected now, but mad all through, Barres continued to
+follow Soane and Freund, dropping back several yards to keep out of
+sight, and trying to make up his mind what he ought to do.
+
+The cross street was fairly well lighted; there seemed to be plenty of
+evening strollers abroad, so that he was not particularly conspicuous
+on the long block between Sixth and Fifth Avenues.
+
+The precious pair, arriving at Fifth Avenue, halted, blocked by the
+normal rush of automobiles, unchecked now by a traffic policeman.
+
+So Barres halted, too, and drew back alongside a shop window.
+
+And, as he stopped and stepped aside, he saw a man pause on the
+sidewalk across the street and move back cautiously into the shadow of
+a façade opposite.
+
+There was nothing significant in the occurrence; Barres merely
+happened to notice it; then he turned his eyes toward Soane and
+Freund, who now were crossing Fifth Avenue. And he went after them,
+with no definite idea in his head.
+
+Soane and Freund walked on eastward; a tramcar on Madison Avenue
+stopped them once more; and, as Barres also halted behind them and
+stepped aside into the shadows, there, just across the street, he saw
+the same man again halt, retire, and stand motionless in a recess
+between two shop windows.
+
+Barres tried to keep one eye on him and the other on Soane and Freund.
+The two latter were crossing Madison Avenue; and as soon as they had
+crossed, still headed east, the man on the other side of the street
+came out of his shadowy recess and started eastward, too.
+
+Then Barres also started, but now he was watching the man across the
+street as well as keeping Soane and Freund in view--watching the
+former solitary individual with increasing curiosity.
+
+Was that man keeping an eye on him? Was he following Soane and Freund?
+Was he, in fact, following anybody, and had the lively imagination of
+Barres begun to make something out of nothing?
+
+At Park Avenue Freund and Soane paused, not apparently because of any
+vehicular congestion impeding their progress, but they seemed to be
+engaged in vehement conversation, Soane's excitable tones reaching
+Barres, where he had halted again beside the tradesmen's gate of a
+handsome private house.
+
+And once more, across the street the solitary figure also halted and
+stood unstirring under a porte-cochère.
+
+Barres, straining his eyes, strove to make out details of his features
+and dress. And presently he concluded that, though the man did turn
+and glance in his direction occasionally, his attention was
+principally fixed on Soane and Freund.
+
+His movements, too, seemed to corroborate this idea, because as soon
+as they started across Park Avenue the man on the opposite side of the
+street was in instant motion. And Barres, now intensely curious,
+walked eastward once more, following all three.
+
+At Lexington Avenue Soane sheered off and, despite the clutch of
+Freund, went into a saloon. Freund finally followed.
+
+As usual, across the street the solitary figure had stopped. Barres,
+also immobile, kept him in view. Evidently he, too, was awaiting the
+reappearance of Soane and Freund.
+
+Suddenly Barres made up his mind to have a good look at him. He walked
+to the corner, walked over to the south side of the street, turned
+west, and slowly sauntered past the man, looking him deliberately in
+the face.
+
+As for the stranger, far from shrinking or avoiding the scrutiny, he
+on his part betrayed a very lively interest in the physiognomy of
+Barres; and as that young man approached he found himself scanned by a
+brilliant and alert pair of eyes, as keen as a fox-terrier's.
+
+In frank but subtly hostile curiosity their glances met and crossed.
+Then, in an instant, a rather odd smile glimmered in the stranger's
+eyes, twitched at his pleasant mouth, just shaded by a tiny
+moustache:
+
+"If you please, sir," he said in a low, amused voice, "you will
+not--as they say in New York--butt in."
+
+Barres, astonished, stood quite still. The young man continued to
+regard him with a very intelligent and slightly ironical expression:
+
+"I do not know, of course," he said, "whether you are of the city
+police, the State service, the Post Office, the Department of Justice,
+the Federal Secret Service"--he shrugged expressive shoulders--"but
+this I do know very well, that through lack of proper coordination in
+the branches of all your departments of City, State, and Federal
+surety, there is much bungling, much working at cross purposes, much
+interference, and many blunders.
+
+"Therefore, I beg of you not to do anything further in the matter
+which very evidently occupies you." And he bowed and glanced across at
+the saloon into which Soane and Freund had disappeared.
+
+Barres was thinking hard. He drew out his cigarette case, lighted a
+cigarette, came to his conclusions:
+
+"You are watching Freund and Soane?" he asked bluntly.
+
+"And you, sir? Are you observing the stars?" inquired the young man,
+evidently amused at something or other unperceived by Barres.
+
+The latter said, frankly and pleasantly:
+
+"I _am_ following those two men. It is evident that you are, also. So
+may I ask, have you any idea where they are going?"
+
+"I can guess, perhaps."
+
+"To Grogan's?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Suppose," said Barres quietly, "I put myself under your orders and go
+along with you."
+
+The strange young man was much diverted:
+
+"In your kind suggestion there appears to be concealed a germ of
+common sense," he said. "In which particular service are you employed,
+sir?"
+
+"And you?" inquired Barres, smilingly.
+
+"I imagine you may have guessed," said the young man, evidently
+greatly amused at something or other.
+
+Sheer intuition prompted Barres, and he took a chance.
+
+"Yes, I have ventured to guess that you are an Intelligence Officer in
+the French service, and secretly on duty in the United States."
+
+The young man winced but forced a very bland smile.
+
+"My compliments, whether your guess is born of certainty or not. And
+you, sir? May I inquire your status?"
+
+"I'm merely a civilian with a season's Plattsburg training as my only
+professional experience. I'm afraid you won't believe this, but it's
+quite true. I'm not in either Municipal, State, or Federal service.
+But I don't believe I can stand this Hun business much longer without
+enlisting with the Canadians."
+
+"Oh. May I ask, then, why you follow that pair yonder?"
+
+"I'll tell you why. I am a painter. I live at Dragon Court. Soane, an
+Irishman, is superintendent of the building. I have reason to believe
+that German propagandists have been teaching him disloyalty under
+promise of aiding Ireland to secure political independence.
+
+"Coming out of the branch post office this evening, where I had taken
+some letters, I saw Soane and that fellow, Freund. I really couldn't
+tell you exactly what my object was in following them, except that I
+itched to beat up the German and refrained because of the inevitable
+notoriety that must follow.
+
+"Perhaps I had a vague idea of following them to Grogan's, where I
+knew they were bound, just to look over the place and see for myself
+what that German rendezvous is like.
+
+"Anyway, what kept me on their trail was noticing _you_; and your
+behaviour aroused my curiosity. That is the entire truth concerning
+myself and this affair. And if you believe me, and if you think I can
+be of any service to you, take me along with you. If not, then I shall
+certainly not interfere with whatever you are engaged in."
+
+For a few moments the young Intelligence Officer looked intently at
+Barres, the same amused, inexplicable smile on his face. Then:
+
+"Your name," he said, with malicious gaiety, "is Garret Barres."
+
+At that Barres completely lost countenance, but the other man began to
+laugh:
+
+"Certainly you are Garry Barres, a painter, a celebrated Beaux Arts
+man of----"
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Barres, "_you_ are Renoux! You are little
+Georges Renoux, of the atelier Ledoux!--on the architect's side!--you
+are that man who left his card for me this evening! I've seen you
+often! You were a little devil of a nouveau!--but you were always the
+centre of every bit of mischief in the rue Bonaparte! You put the
+whole Quarter en charette! I saw you do it."
+
+"I saw _you_," laughed Renoux, "on one notorious occasion, teaching
+jiu-jitsu to a policeman! Don't talk to me about my escapades!"
+
+Cordially, firmly, in grinning silence, they shook hands. And for a
+moment the intervening years seemed to melt away; the golden past
+became the present; and Renoux even thrilled a little at the
+condescension of Barres in shaking hands with him--the _nouveau_
+honoured by the _ancien_!--the reverence never entirely forgotten.
+
+"What are you, anyway, Renoux?" asked Barres, still astonished at the
+encounter, but immensely interested.
+
+"My friend, you have already guessed. I am Captain: Military
+Intelligence Department. You know? There are no longer architects or
+butchers or bakers in France, only soldiers. And of those soldiers I
+am a very humble one."
+
+"On secret duty here," nodded Barres.
+
+"I need not ask an old Beaux Arts comrade to be discreet and loyal."
+
+"My dear fellow, France is next in my heart after my own country. Tell
+me, you are following that Irishman, Soane, and his boche friend, Max
+Freund, are you not?"
+
+"It happens to be as you say," admitted Renoux, smilingly. "A job for
+a 'flic,' is it not?"
+
+"Shall I tell you what I know about those two men?--what I suspect?"
+
+"I should be very glad----" But at that moment Soane came out of the
+saloon across the way, and Freund followed.
+
+"May I come with you?" whispered Barres.
+
+"If you care to. Yes, come," nodded Renoux, keeping his clear,
+intelligent eyes on the two across the street, who now stood under a
+lamp-post, engaged in some sort of drunken altercation.
+
+Renoux, watching them all the while, continued in a low voice:
+
+"Remember, Barres, if we chance to meet again here in America, I am
+merely Georges Renoux, an architect and a fellow Beaux Arts man."
+
+"Certainly.... Look! They're starting on, those two!"
+
+"Come," whispered Renoux.
+
+Soane, unsteady of leg and talkative, was now making for Third Avenue
+beside Freund, who had taken him by the arm, in hopes, apparently, of
+steadying them both.
+
+As Renoux and Barres followed, the latter cautiously requested any
+instructions which Renoux might think fit to give.
+
+Renoux said in his cool, agreeable voice:
+
+"You know it's rather unusual for an officer to bother personally with
+this sort of thing. But my people--even the renegade Germans in our
+service--have been unable to obtain necessary information for us in
+regard to Grogan's.
+
+"It happened this afternoon that certain information was brought to me
+which suggested that I myself take a look at Grogan's. And that is
+what I was going to do when I saw you on the street, carefully
+stalking two well-known suspects."
+
+They both laughed cautiously.
+
+Grogan's was now in sight on the corner, its cherrywood magnificence
+and its bilious imitation of stained glass aglow with electricity. And
+into its "Family Entrance" swaggered Soane, followed by the lank
+figure of Max Freund.
+
+Renoux and Barres had halted fifty yards away. Neither spoke. And
+presently came to them a short, dark, powerfully built man, who
+strolled up casually, puffing a large, rank cigar.
+
+Renoux named him to Barres:
+
+"Emile Souchez, one of my men." He added: "Anybody gone in yet?"
+
+"Otto Klein, of Gerhardt, Klein & Schwartzmeyer went in an hour ago,"
+replied Souchez.
+
+"Oho," nodded Renoux softly. "That signifies something really
+interesting. Who else went in?"
+
+"Small fry--Dave Sendelbeck, Louis Hochstein, Terry Madigan, Dolan,
+McBride, Clancy--all Clan-na-Gael men."
+
+"Skeel?"
+
+"No. He's still at the Astor. Franz Lehr came out about half an hour
+ago and took a taxi west. Jacques Alost is following in another."
+
+Renoux thought a moment:
+
+"Lehr has probably gone to see Skeel at the Hotel Astor," he
+concluded. "We're going to have our chance, I think."
+
+Then, turning to Barres:
+
+"We've decided to take a sport-chance to-night. We have most reliable
+information that this man Lehr, who now owns Grogan's, will carry here
+upon his person papers of importance to my Government--and to yours,
+too, Barres.
+
+"The man from whom he shall procure these papers is an Irish gentleman
+named Murtagh Skeel, just arrived from Buffalo and stopping overnight
+at the Hotel Astor.
+
+"Lehr, we were informed, was to go personally and get those papers....
+Do you really wish to help us?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Very well. I expect we shall have what you call a mix-up. You will
+please, therefore, walk into Grogan's--not by the family entrance, but
+by the swinging doors on Lexington Avenue. Kindly refresh yourself
+there with some Munich beer; also eat a sandwich at my expense, if you
+care to. Then you will give yourself the pains to inquire the way to
+the wash-room. And there you will possess your soul in amiable
+patience until you shall hear me speak your name in a very quiet,
+polite tone."
+
+Barres, recognising the familiar mock seriousness of student days in
+Paris, began to smile. Renoux frowned and continued his instructions:
+
+"When you hear me politely pronounce your name, mon vieux, then you
+shall precipitate yourself valiantly to the aid of Monsieur Souchez
+and myself--and perhaps Monsieur Alost--and help us to hold, gag and
+search the somewhat violent German animal whom we corner inside the
+family entrance of Herr Grogan!"
+
+Barres had difficulty in restraining his laughter. Renoux was very
+serious, with the delightful mock gravity of a witty and perfectly
+fearless Frenchman.
+
+"Lehr?" inquired Barres, still laughing.
+
+"That is the animal under discussion. There will be a taxicab awaiting
+us----" He turned to Souchez: "Dis, donc, Emile, faut employer ton
+coup du Pêre François pour nous assurer de cet animal là."
+
+"B'en sure," nodded Souchez, fishing furtively in the side pocket of
+his coat and displaying the corner of a red silk handkerchief. He
+stuffed it into his pocket again; Renoux smiled carelessly at Barres.
+
+"Mon vieux," he said, "I hope it will be like a good fight in the
+Quarter--what with all those Irish in there. You desire to get your
+head broken?"
+
+"You bet I do, Renoux!"
+
+"Bien! So now, if you are quite ready?" he suggested. "Merci,
+monsieur, et à bientôt!" He bowed profoundly.
+
+Barres, still laughing, walked to Lexington Avenue, crossed northward,
+and entered the swinging doors of Grogan's, perfectly enchanted to
+have his finger in the pie at last, and aching for an old-fashioned
+Latin Quarter row, the pleasures of which he had not known for several
+too respectable years.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+GROGAN'S
+
+
+The material attraction of Grogan's was principally German beer; the
+æsthetic appeal of the place was also characteristically Teutonic and
+consisted of peculiarly offensive decorations, including much red
+cherry, much imitation stained glass, many sprawling brass fixtures,
+and many electric lights. Only former inmates of the Fatherland could
+have conceived and executed the embellishments of Grogan's.
+
+There was a palatial bar, behind which fat, white-jacketed Teutons
+served slopping steins of beer upon a perforated brass surface. There
+was a centre table, piled with those barbarous messes known to the
+undiscriminating Hun as "delicatessen"--raw fish, sour fish, smoked
+fish, flabby portions of defunct pig in various guises--all naturally
+nauseating to the white man's olfactories and palate, and all equally
+relished by the beer-swilling boche.
+
+A bartender with Pekinese and apoplectic eyes and the scorbutic facial
+symptoms of a Strassburg liver, took the order from Barres and set
+before him a frosty glass of Pilsner, incidentally drenching the bar
+at the same time with swipes, which he thriftily scraped through the
+perforated brass strainer into a slop-bucket underneath.
+
+Being a stranger there, Barres was furtively scrutinised at first, but
+there seemed to be nothing particularly suspicious about a young man
+who stopped in for a glass of Pilsner on a July night, and nobody
+paid him any further attention.
+
+Besides, two United States Secret Service men had just gone out,
+followed, as usual, by one Johnny Klein; and the Germans at the tables
+at the bar, and behind the bar were still sneeringly commenting on the
+episode--now a familiar one and of nightly occurrence.
+
+So only very casual attention was paid to Barres and his Pilsner and
+his rye-bread and sardine sandwich, which he took over to a vacant
+table to desiccate and discuss at his leisure.
+
+People came and went; conversation in Hunnish gutturals became
+general; soiled evening newspapers were read, raw fish seized in fat
+red fingers and suckingly masticated; also, skat and pinochle were
+resumed with unwiped hands, and there was loud slapping of cards on
+polished table tops, and many porcine noises.
+
+Barres finished his Pilsner, side-stepped the sandwich, rose, asked a
+bartender for the wash-room, and leisurely followed the direction
+given.
+
+There was nobody in there. He had, for company, a mouse, a soiled
+towel on a roller, and the remains of some unattractive soap. He
+lighted a cigarette, surveyed himself in the looking glass, cast a
+friendly glance at the mouse, and stood waiting, flexing his biceps
+muscles with a smile of anticipated pleasure in renewing the use of
+them after such a very long period wasted in the peaceful pursuit of
+art.
+
+For he was still a boy at heart. All creative minds retain something
+of those care-free, irresponsible years as long as the creative talent
+lasts. As it fails, worldly caution creeps in like a thief in the
+night, to steal the spontaneous pleasures of the past and leave in
+their places only the old galoshes of prudence and the finger-prints
+of dull routine.
+
+Barres stood by the open door of the wash-room, listening. The
+corridor which passed it led on into another corridor running at right
+angles. This was the Family Entrance.
+
+Now, as he waited there, he heard the street door open, and instantly
+the deadened shock of a rush and struggle.
+
+As he started toward the Family Entrance, straining his ears for the
+expected summons, a man in flight turned the corner into his corridor
+so abruptly that he had him by the throat even before he recognised in
+him the man with the thick eye-glasses who had hit him between the
+eyes with a pistol--the "Watcher" of Dragon Court!
+
+With a swift sigh of gratitude to Chance, Barres folded the fleeing
+Watcher to his bosom and began the business he had to transact with
+him--an account too long overdue.
+
+The Watcher fought like a wildcat, but in silence--fought madly, using
+both fists, feet, baring his teeth, too, with frantic attempts to use
+them. But Barres gave him no opportunity to kick, bite, or to pull out
+any weapon; he battered the Watcher right and left, swinging on him
+like lightning, and his blows drummed on him like the tattoo of fists
+on a punching bag until one stinging crack sent the Watcher's head
+snapping back with a jerk, and a terrific jolt knocked him as clean
+and as flat as a dead carp.
+
+There were papers in his coat, also a knuckle-duster, a big
+clasp-knife, and an automatic pistol. And Barres took them all,
+stuffed them into his own pockets, and, dragging his still dormant but
+twitching victim by the collar, as a cat proudly lugs a heavy rat, he
+started for the Family Entrance, where Donnybrook had now broken
+loose.
+
+But the silence of the terrific struggle in that narrow entry, the
+absence of all yelling, was significant. No Irish whoops, no Teutonic
+din of combat shattered the stillness of that dim corridor--only the
+deadened sounds of blows and shuffling of frantic feet. It was very
+evident that nobody involved desired to be interrupted by the police,
+or call attention to the location of the battle field.
+
+Renoux, Souchez, and a third companion were in intimate and desperate
+conflict with half a dozen other men--dim, furious figures fighting
+there under the flickering gas jet from which the dirty globe had been
+knocked into fragments.
+
+Into this dusty maelstrom of waving arms and legs went Barres--first
+dropping his now inert prey--and began to hit out enthusiastically
+right and left, at the nearest hostile countenance visible.
+
+His was a flank attack and totally unexpected by the attackees; and
+the diversion gave Renoux time to seize a muscular, struggling
+opponent, hold him squirming while Souchez passed his handkerchief
+over his throat and the third man turned his pockets inside out.
+
+Then Renoux called breathlessly to Barres:
+
+"All right, mon vieux! Face to the rear front! March!"
+
+For a moment they stiffened to face a battering rush from the stairs.
+Suddenly a pistol spoke, and an Irish voice burst out:
+
+"Whist, ye domm fool! G'wan wid yer fishtin' an' can th' goon-play!"
+
+There came a splintering crash as the rickety banisters gave way and
+several Teutonic and Hibernian warriors fell in a furious heap,
+blocking the entry with an unpremeditated obstacle.
+
+Instantly Souchez, Barres and the other man backed out into the
+street, followed nimbly by Renoux and his plunder.
+
+Already a typical Third Avenue crowd was gathering, though the ominous
+glimmer of a policeman's buttons had not yet caught the lamplight from
+the street corner.
+
+Then the door of Grogan's burst open and an embattled Irishman
+appeared. But at first glance the hopelessness of the situation
+presented itself to him; a taxi loaded with French and American
+franc-tireurs was already honking triumphantly away westward; an
+excited and rapidly increasing throng pressed around the Family
+Entrance; also, the distant glitter of a policeman's shield and
+buttons now extinguished all hope of pursuit.
+
+Soane glared at the crowd out of enraged and blood-shot eyes:
+
+"G'wan home, ye bunch of bums!" he said thickly, and slammed the door
+to the Family Entrance of Grogan's notorious café.
+
+At 42d Street and Madison Avenue the taxi stopped and Souchez and
+Alost got out and went rapidly across the street toward the Grand
+Central depot. Then the taxi proceeded west, north again, then once
+more west.
+
+Renoux, busy with a bleeding nose, remarked carelessly that Souchez
+and Alost were taking a train and were in a hurry, and that he himself
+was going back to the Astor.
+
+"You do not mind coming with me, Barres?" he added. "In my rooms we
+can have a bite and a glass together, and then we can brush up. That
+was a nice little fight, was it not, mon ami?"
+
+"Fine," said Barres with satisfaction.
+
+"Quite like the old and happy days," mused Renoux, surveying wilted
+collar and rumpled tie of his comrade. "You came off well; you have
+merely a bruised cheek." His eyes began to sparkle and he laughed: "Do
+you remember that May evening when your very quarrelsome atelier
+barricaded the Café de la Source and forbade us to enter--and my
+atelier marched down the Boul' Mich' with its Kazoo band playing our
+atelier march, determined to take your café by assault? Oh, my! What a
+delightful fight that was!"
+
+"Your crazy comrades stuffed me into the fountain among the goldfish.
+I thought I'd drown," said Barres, laughing.
+
+"I know, but your atelier gained a great victory that night, and you
+came over to Müller's with your Kazoo band playing the Fireman's
+March, and you carried away our palms and bay-trees in their green
+tubs, and you threw them over the Pont-au-Change into the Seine!----"
+
+They were laughing like a pair of schoolboys now, quite convulsed and
+holding to each other.
+
+"Do you remember," gasped Barres, "that girl who danced the Carmagnole
+on the Quay?"
+
+"Yvonne Tête-de-Linotte!"
+
+"And the British giant from Julien's, who threw everybody out of the
+Café Montparnasse and invited the Quarter in to a free banquet?"
+
+"McNeil!"
+
+"What ever became of that pretty girl, Doucette de Valmy?"
+
+"Oh, it was she who cheered on your atelier to the assault on
+Müllers!----"
+
+Laughter stifled them.
+
+"What crazy creatures we all were," said Renoux, staunching the last
+crimson drops oozing from his nose. Then, more soberly: "We French
+have a grimmer affair over there than the joyous rows of the Latin
+Quarter. I'm sorry now that we didn't throw every waiter in Müller's
+after the bay-trees. There would have been so many fewer spies to
+betray France."
+
+The taxi stopped at the 44th Street entrance to the Astor. They
+descended, Renoux leading, walked through the corridor to Peacock
+Alley, turned to the right through the bar, then to the left into the
+lobby, and thence to the elevator.
+
+In Renoux's rooms they turned on the electric light, locked the door,
+closed the transom, then spread their plunder out on a table.
+
+To Renoux's disgust his own loot consisted of sealed envelopes full of
+clippings from German newspapers published in Chicago, Milwaukee, and
+New York.
+
+"That animal, Lehr," he said with a wry face, "has certainly played us
+a filthy turn. These clippings amount to nothing----" His eyes fell on
+the packet of papers which Barres was now opening, and he leaned over
+his shoulder to look.
+
+"Thank God!" he said, "here they are! Where on earth did you find
+these papers, Barres? They're the documents we were after! They ought
+to have been in Lehr's pockets!"
+
+"He must have passed them to the fellow who bumped into me near the
+wash-room," said Barres, enchanted at his luck. "What a fortunate
+chance that you sent me around there!"
+
+Renoux, delighted, stood under the electric light unfolding document
+after document, and nodding his handsome, mischievous head with
+satisfaction.
+
+"What luck, Barres! What did you do to the fellow?"
+
+"Thumped him to sleep and turned out his pockets. Are these really
+what you want?"
+
+"I should say so! This is precisely what we are looking for!"
+
+"Do you mind if I read them, too?"
+
+"No, I don't. Why should I? You're my loyal comrade and you understand
+discretion.... _What_ do you think of _this_!" displaying a
+typewritten document marked "Copy," enclosing a sheaf of maps.
+
+It contained plans of all the East River and Harlem bridges, a tracing
+showing the course of the new aqueduct and the Ashokan Dam, drawings
+of the Navy Yard, a map of Iona Island, and a plan of the Welland
+Canal.
+
+The document was brief:
+
+  "Included in report by _K17_ to Diplomatic Agent controlling
+  Section 7-4-11-B. Recommended that detail plan of DuPont works be
+  made without delay.
+
+  "SKEEL."
+
+Followed several sheets in cipher, evidently some intricate variation
+of those which are always ultimately solved by experts.
+
+But the documents that were now unfolded by Captain Renoux proved
+readable and intensely interesting.
+
+These were the papers which Renoux read and which Barres read over his
+shoulder:
+
+  "(Copy)
+
+  Berlin Military Telegraph Office Telegram
+
+  Berlin. Political Division of the General Staff
+  Nr. Pol. 6431.
+
+  (SECRET)
+
+  8, Moltkestrasse,
+    Berlin, NW, 40.
+      March 20, 1916.
+
+  "FEREZ BEY, N. Y.
+
+  "Referring to your correspondence and conversations with Colonel
+  Skeel, I most urgently request that the necessary funds be raised
+  through the New York banker, Adolf Gerhardt; also that Bernstorff
+  be immediately informed through Boy-Ed, so that plans of Head
+  General Staff of Army on campaign may not be delayed.
+
+  "Begin instantly enlist and train men, secure and arm power-boat
+  assemble equipment and explosives, Welland Canal Exp'd'n. War
+  Office No. 159-16, Secret U. K.:--T, 3, P."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "Foreign Office, Berlin,
+
+  "Dec. 28, 1914.
+
+  "DEAR SIR ROGER:--I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of your
+  letter of the 23d inst., in which you submitted to his Imperial
+  Majesty's Government a proposal for the formation of an Irish
+  brigade which would be pledged to fight only for the cause of
+  Irish nationalism, and which is to be composed of any Irish
+  prisoners of war willing to join such a regiment.
+
+  "In reply I have the honour to inform you that his Imperial
+  Majesty's Government agrees to your proposal and also to the
+  conditions under which it might be possible to train an Irish
+  brigade. These conditions are set out in the declaration enclosed
+  in your letter of the 13th inst., and are given at foot. I have
+  the honour to be, dear Roger, your obedient servant,
+
+  "(Signed) ZIMMERMAN,
+
+  "Under Secretary of State for the Foreign Office.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "TO HIS HONOUR, SIR ROGER CASEMENT,
+    "Eden Hotel, Kurfürstendamm, Berlin."
+
+  "(SECRET)
+
+  "COLONEL MURTAGH SKEEL,
+    "Flying Division, Irish Expeditionary Corps,
+      "New York.
+
+  "For your information I enclose Zimmerman's letter to Sir Roger,
+  and also the text of Articles 6 and 7, being part of our first
+  agreement with Sir Roger Casement.
+
+  "You will note particularly the Article numbered 7.
+
+  "This paragraph, unfortunately, still postpones your suggested
+  attempt to seize on the high seas a British or neutral steamer
+  loaded with arms and munitions, and make a landing from her on the
+  Irish Coast.
+
+  "But, in the meantime, is it not possible for you to seize one of
+  the large ore steamers on the Great Lakes, transfer to her
+  sufficient explosives, take her into the Welland Canal and blow up
+  the locks?
+
+  "No more valuable service could be performed by Irishmen; no
+  deadlier blow delivered at England.
+
+  "I am, my dear Skeel, your sincere friend and comrade,
+
+  "(Signed) VON PAPEN.
+
+  "P. S.--Herewith appended are Articles 6 and 7 included in the
+  Casement convention:
+
+  "(SECRET)
+
+  "Text of Articles 6 and 7 of the convention concluded between Sir
+  Roger Casement and the German Government:
+
+  "6. The German Imperial Government undertakes 'under certain
+  circumstances' to lend the Irish Brigade adequate military
+  support, and to send it to Ireland abundantly supplied with arms
+  and ammunition, in order that once there it may equip any Irish
+  who would like to join it in making an attempt to re-establish
+  Ireland's national liberty by force of arms.
+
+  "The 'special circumstances' stipulated above are as follows:
+
+  "In case of a German naval victory which would make it possible to
+  reach the Irish coast, the German Imperial Government pledges
+  itself to despatch the Irish Brigade and a German expeditionary
+  corps commanded by German officers, in German troopships, to
+  attempt a landing on the Irish coast.
+
+  "7. It will be impossible to contemplate a landing in Ireland
+  unless the German Navy can gain such a victory as to make it
+  really likely that an attempt to reach Ireland by sea would
+  succeed. Should the German Navy not win such a victory, then a use
+  will be found for the Irish Brigade in Germany or elsewhere. But
+  in no case will it be used except in such ways as Sir Roger
+  Casement shall approve, as being completely in accordance with
+  Article 2.
+
+  "In this case the Irish Brigade might be sent to Egypt to lend
+  assistance in expelling the English and re-establishing Egyptian
+  independence.
+
+  "Even if the Irish Brigade should not succeed in fighting for the
+  liberation of Ireland from the English yoke, nevertheless a blow
+  dealt at the British intruders in Egypt and intended to help the
+  Egyptians to recover their freedom would be a blow struck for a
+  cause closely related to that of Ireland."
+
+Another paper read as follows:
+
+  "Halbmondlager,
+    "Aug. 20th, 1915.
+
+  "(SECRET)"
+
+  "To MURTAGH SKEEL, COLONEL,
+    "Irish Exp. Force,
+      "N. Y.
+
+  "REPORT
+
+  "On June 7, fifty Irishmen, with one German subaltern, were handed
+  over to this camp, to be temporarily accommodated here. On June 16
+  five more Irishmen arrived, one of whom, having a broken leg, was
+  sent to the camp hospital. There are, therefore, fifty-four
+  Irishmen now here, one Sergeant Major, one Deputy Sergeant Major,
+  three Sergeants, three Corporals, three Lance Corporals, and
+  forty-three privates.
+
+  "They were accommodated as well as could be among the Indian
+  battalion, an arrangement which gives rise to much trouble, which
+  is inevitable, considering the tasks imposed upon Half Moon Camp.
+
+  "The Irish form an Irish brigade, which was constituted after
+  negotiations between the Foreign Office and Sir Roger Casement,
+  the champion of Irish independence.
+
+  "Enclosed is the Foreign Office communication of Dec. 28, 1914,
+  confirming the conditions on which the Irish brigade was to be
+  formed.
+
+  "The members of the Irish brigade are no longer German prisoners
+  of war, but receive an Irish uniform; and, according to orders,
+  instructions are to be issued to treat the Irish as comrades in
+  arms.
+
+  "The Irish are under the command of a German officer, First Lieut.
+  Boehm, the representative of the Grand General Staff (Political
+  Division) which is in direct communication with the subaltern in
+  charge of the Irish. This subaltern has been receiving money
+  direct, which he expends in the interests of the Irish; 250 marks
+  were given him through the Commandant's office, Zossen, and 250
+  marks by First Lieut. Boehm.
+
+  "Promotions, also, are made known by being directly communicated
+  to the subaltern in question. As will appear from the enclosed
+  copy, dated July 20, these promotions were as follows: (1)
+  Sergeant Major, (2) Deputy Sergeant Major, and (3) Sergeants.
+
+  "The uniforms arrived between the end of July and the beginning of
+  August. Their coming was announced in a letter dated July 20 (copy
+  enclosed), and their distribution was ordered. The box of uniforms
+  was addressed to Zossen, whence it was brought here. The uniforms
+  consist of a jacket, trousers, and cap in Irish style, and are of
+  huntsman's green cloth. Altogether, uniforms arrived for fifty
+  men, and they have since been given out. Three non-commissioned
+  officers brought their uniforms with them from Limburg on July 16.
+  Two photographs of the Irish are annexed.
+
+  "A few Irish are in correspondence with Sir Roger Casement, who,
+  in a letter from Munich, dated Aug. 16, says that he hears that
+  the Irish are shortly to be transferred from here to another
+  place. In a letter dated July 17 he complains of his want of
+  success, only fifty men having sent in their names as wishing to
+  join the brigade.
+
+  "Six weeks ago Sir Roger Casement was here with First Lieutenant
+  Boehm. Since then, however, neither of these gentlemen has
+  personally visited the Irish.
+
+  "Since the 18th of June the commandant's office has allowed every
+  penniless Irishman two marks a week--a sum which is now being paid
+  out to fifty-three men.
+
+  "On Aug. 6 the subaltern in charge of the Irish brigade was given
+  a German soldier to help him.
+
+  "In this camp every possible endeavour is made to help to attain
+  the important objects in view, but owing to the Irish being
+  accommodated with coloured races within the precincts of a closed
+  camp, it is inevitable that serious dissensions and acts of
+  violence should take place. Moreover, a German subaltern is not
+  suited for dealing independently with Irishmen.
+
+  "(Sgd.) HAUPTMANN, d. R. a. D.,
+
+  "(Retired Captain on the Reserve List)."
+
+The last paper read as follows:
+
+  "(COPY)
+
+  "(Wireless via Mexico)
+
+  "Berlin (no date).
+
+  "FEREZ,
+    "N. Y.
+
+  "Necessary close Nihla Quellen case immediately. Evidently useless
+  expect her take service with us. Hold you responsible. Advise you
+  take secret measures to end menace to our interests in Paris.
+  D'Eblis urges instant action. Bolo under suspicion. Ex-minister
+  also suspected. Only drastic and final action on your part can end
+  danger. You know what to do. Do it."
+
+  The telegram was signed with a string of letters and numerals.
+
+Renoux glanced curiously at Barres, who had turned very red and was
+beginning to re-read the wireless.
+
+When he finished, Renoux folded all the documents and placed them in
+the breast pocket of his coat.
+
+"Mon ami, Barres," he said pleasantly, "you and I have much yet to say
+to each other."
+
+"In the meanwhile, let us wash the stains of combat from our persons.
+What is the number of your collar?"
+
+"Fifteen and a half."
+
+"I can fit you out. The bathroom is this way, old top!"
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+THE WHITE BLACKBIRD
+
+
+Refreshed by icy baths and clean linen, and now further fortified
+against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune by a supper of
+cold fowl and Moselle, Captain Renoux and Garret Barres sat in the
+apartment of the former gentleman, gaily exchanging Latin Quarter
+reminiscences through the floating haze of their cigars.
+
+But the conversation soon switched back toward the far more serious
+business which alone accounted for their being there together after
+many years. For, as the French officer had remarked, a good deal
+remained to be said between them. And Barres knew what he meant, and
+was deeply concerned at the prospect.
+
+But Renoux approached the matter with careless good humour and by a
+leisurely, circuitous route, which polite pussy-footing was obviously
+to prepare Barres for impending trouble.
+
+He began by referring to his mission in America, admitting very
+frankly that he was a modest link in the system of military and
+political intelligence maintained by all European countries in the
+domains of their neighbours.
+
+"I might as well say so," he remarked, "because it's known to the
+representatives of enemy governments here as well as to your own
+Government, that some of us are here; and anybody can imagine why.
+
+"And, in the course of my--studies," he said deliberately, while his
+clear eyes twinkled, "it has come to my knowledge, and to the
+knowledge of the French Ambassador, that there is, in New York, a
+young woman who already has proven herself a dangerous enemy to my
+country."
+
+"That is interesting, if true," said Barres, reddening to the temples.
+"But it is even more interesting if it is not true.... And it isn't!"
+
+"You think not?"
+
+"I don't think anything about it, Renoux; I _know_."
+
+"I am afraid you have been misled, Barres. And it is natural enough."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because," said Renoux serenely, "she is very beautiful, very clever,
+very young, very appealing.... Tell me, my friend, where did you meet
+her?"
+
+Barres looked him in the eyes:
+
+"Where did you learn that I had ever met her?"
+
+"Through the ordinary channels which, if you will pardon me, I am not
+at liberty to discuss."
+
+"All right. It is sufficient that you know I have met her. Now, where
+did I meet her?"
+
+"I don't know," said Renoux candidly.
+
+"How long have I known her then?"
+
+"Possibly a few weeks. Our information is that your acquaintance with
+her is not of long duration."
+
+"Wrong, my friend: I met her in France several years ago; I know her
+intimately."
+
+"Yes, the intimacy has been reported," said Renoux, blandly. "But it
+doesn't take long, sometimes."
+
+Barres reddened again and shook his head:
+
+"You and your agents are all wrong, Renoux. So is your Government. Do
+you know what it's doing--what you and your agents are doing? You're
+playing a German game for Berlin!"
+
+This time Renoux flushed and there was a slight quiver to his lips and
+nostrils; but he said very pleasantly:
+
+"That would be rather mortifying, mon ami, if it were true."
+
+"It is true. Berlin, the traitor in Paris, the conspirator in America,
+the German, Austrian, and Turkish diplomatic agents here ask nothing
+better than that you manage, somehow, to eliminate the person in
+question."
+
+"Why?" demanded Renoux.
+
+"Because more than one of your public men in Paris will face charges
+of conspiracy and treason if the person in question ever has a fair
+hearing and a chance to prove her innocence of the terrible
+accusations that have been made against her."
+
+"Naturally," said Renoux, "those accused bring counter charges. It is
+always the history of such cases, mon ami."
+
+"Your mind is already made up, then?"
+
+"My mind is a real mind, Barres. Reason is what it seeks--the logical
+evidence that leads to truth. If there is anything I don't know, then
+I wish to know it, and will spare no pains, permit no prejudice to
+warp my judgment."
+
+"All right. Now, let's have the thing out between us, Renoux. We are
+not fencing in the dark; we understand each other and are honest
+enough to say so. Now, go on."
+
+Renoux nodded and said very quietly and pleasantly:
+
+"The reference in one of these papers to the celebrated Nihla Quellen
+reminds me of the first time I ever saw her. I was quite bowled over,
+Barres, as you may easily imagine. She sang one of those Asiatic
+songs--and then the dance!--a miracle!--a delight--apparently entirely
+unprepared, unpremeditated even--you know how she did it?--exquisite
+perfection--something charmingly impulsive and spontaneous--a caprice
+of the moment! Ah--there is a wonderful artiste, Nihla Quellen!"
+
+Barres nodded, his level gaze fixed on the French officer.
+
+"As for the document," continued Renoux, "it does not entirely explain
+itself to me. You see, this Eurasian, Ferez Bey, was a very intimate
+friend of Nihla Quellen."
+
+"You are quite mistaken," interposed Barres. But the other merely
+smiled with a slight gesture of deference to his friend's opinion, and
+went on.
+
+"This Ferez is one of those persistent, annoying flies which buzz
+around chancelleries and stir up diplomats to pernicious activities.
+You know there isn't much use in swatting, as you say, the fly. No.
+Better find the manure heap which hatched him and burn that!"
+
+He smiled and shrugged, relighted his cigar, and continued:
+
+"So, mon ami, I am here in your charming and hospitable city to direct
+the necessary sanitary measures, sub rosa, of course. You have been
+more than kind. My Government and I have you to thank for this batch
+of papers----" He tapped his breast pocket and made salutes which
+Frenchmen alone know how to make.
+
+"Renoux," said Barres bluntly, "you have learned somehow that Nihla
+Quellen is under my protection. You conclude I am her lover."
+
+The officer's face altered gravely, but he said nothing.
+
+Barres leaned forward in his chair and laid a hand on his comrade's
+shoulder:
+
+"Renoux, do you trust me, personally?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Very well. Then I shall trust you. Because there is nothing you can
+tell me about Nihla Quellen that I do not already know--nothing
+concerning her _dossier_ in your secret archives, nothing in regard to
+the evidence against her and the testimony of the Count d'Eblis. And
+that clears the ground between you and me."
+
+If Renoux was surprised he scarcely showed it.
+
+Barres said:
+
+"As long as you know that she is under my protection, I want you to
+come to my place and talk to her. I don't ask you to accept my
+judgment in regard to her; I merely wish you to listen to what she has
+to say, and then come to your own conclusions. Will you do this?"
+
+For a few moments Renoux sat quite still, his clear, intelligent eyes
+fixed on the smoking tip of his cigar. Without raising them he said
+slowly:
+
+"As we understand it, Nihla Quellen has been a spy from the very
+beginning. Our information is clear, concise, logical. We know her
+history. She was the mistress of Prince Cyril, then of Ferez, then of
+d'Eblis--perhaps of the American banker, Gerhardt, also. She came
+directly from the German Embassy at Constantinople to Paris, on
+Gerhardt's yacht, the _Mirage_, and under his protection and the
+protection of Comte Alexandre d'Eblis.
+
+"Ferez was of the party. And that companionship of conspirators never
+was dissolved as long as Nihla Quellen remained in Europe."
+
+"That Nihla Quellen has ever been the mistress of any man is
+singularly untrue," said Barres coolly. "Your Government has to do
+with a chaste woman; and it doesn't even know that much!"
+
+Renoux regarded him curiously:
+
+"You have seen her dance?" he enquired gravely.
+
+"Often. And, Renoux, you are too much a man of the world to be
+surprised at the unexpected. There _are_ white blackbirds."
+
+"Yes, there are."
+
+"Nihla Quellen is one."
+
+"My friend, I desire to believe it if it would be agreeable to you."
+
+"I know, Renoux; I believe in your good-will. Also, I believe in your
+honesty and intelligence. And so I do not ask you to accept my word
+for what I tell you. Only remember that I am absolutely certain
+concerning my belief in Nihla Quellen.... I have no doubt that you
+think I am in love with her.... I can't answer you. All Europe was in
+love with her. Perhaps I am.... I don't know, Renoux. But this I do
+know; she is clean and sweet and honest from the crown of her head to
+the sole of her foot. In her heart there has never dwelt treachery.
+Talk to her to-night. You're like the best of your compatriots, clear
+minded, logical, intelligent, and full of that legitimate imagination
+without which intellect is a machine. You know the world; you know
+men; you don't know women and you know you don't. Therefore, you are
+equipped to learn the truth--to divine it--from Nihla Quellen. Will
+you come over to my place now?"
+
+"Yes," said Renoux pleasantly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The orchestra was playing as they passed through the hotel; supper
+rooms, corridors, café and lobby were crowded with post-theatre
+throngs in search of food and drink and dance music; and although few
+theatres were open in July, Long Acre blazed under its myriad lights
+and the sidewalks were packed with the audiences filtering out of the
+various summer shows and into all-night cabarets.
+
+They looked across at the distant war bulletins displayed on Times
+Square, around which the usual gesticulating crowd had gathered, but
+kept on across Long Acre, and west toward Sixth Avenue.
+
+Midway in the block, Renoux touched his comrade silently on the arm,
+and halted.
+
+"A few minutes, mon ami, if you don't mind--time for you to smoke a
+cigarette while waiting."
+
+They had stopped before a brownstone house which had been converted
+into a basement dwelling, and which was now recessed between two
+modern shops constructed as far as the building line.
+
+All the shades and curtains in the house were drawn and the place
+appeared to be quite dark, but a ring at the bell brought a big,
+powerfully built porter, who admitted them to a brightly lighted
+reception room. Then the porter replaced the chains on the door of
+bronze.
+
+"Just a little while, if you will be amiable enough to have patience,"
+said Renoux.
+
+He went away toward the rear of the house and Barres seated himself.
+And in a few moments the burly porter reappeared with a tray
+containing a box of cigarettes and a tall glass of Moselle.
+
+"Monsieur Renoux will not be long," he said, bringing a sheaf of
+French illustrated periodicals to the little table at Barres' elbow;
+and he retired with a bow and resumed his chair in the corridor by the
+bronze door.
+
+Through closed doors, somewhere from the rear of the silent house
+came the distant click of a typewriter. At moments, too, looking over
+the war pictures in the periodicals, Barres imagined that he heard a
+confused murmur as of many voices.
+
+Later it became evident that there were a number of people somewhere
+in the house, because, now and then, the porter unlatched the door and
+drew the chains to let out some swiftly walking man.
+
+Once two men came out together. One carried a satchel; the other
+halted in the hallway to slip a clip into an automatic pistol before
+dropping it into the side pocket of his coat.
+
+And after a while Renoux appeared, bland, debonaire, evidently much
+pleased with whatever he had been doing.
+
+Two other men appeared in the corridor behind him; he said something
+to them in a low voice; Barres imagined he heard the words,
+"Washington" and "Jusserand."
+
+Then the two men went out, walking at a smart pace, and Renoux
+sauntered into the tiny reception room.
+
+"You don't know," he said, "what a very important service you have
+rendered us by catching that fellow to-night and stripping him of his
+papers."
+
+Barres rose and they walked out together.
+
+"This city," added Renoux, "is fairly verminous with disloyal Huns.
+The streets are crawling with them; every German resort, saloon, beer
+garden, keller, café, club, society--every German drug store,
+delicatessen shop, music store, tobacconist, is lousy with the
+treacherous swine.
+
+"There are two great hotels where the boche gathers and plots; two
+great banking firms are centres of German propaganda; three great
+department stores, dozens of downtown commercial agencies; various
+buildings and piers belonging to certain transatlantic steamship
+lines, the offices of certain newspapers and periodicals.... Tell me,
+Barres, did you know that the banker, Gerhardt, owns the building in
+which you live?"
+
+"Dragon Court!"
+
+"You didn't know it, evidently. Yes, he owns it."
+
+"Is he really involved in pro-German intrigue?" asked Barres.
+
+"That is our information."
+
+"I ask," continued Barres thoughtfully, "because his summer home is at
+Northbrook, not far from my own home. And to me there is something
+peculiarly contemptible about disloyalty in the wealthy who owe every
+penny to the country they betray."
+
+"His place is called Hohenlinden," remarked Renoux.
+
+"Yes. Are you having it watched?"
+
+Renoux smiled. Perhaps he was thinking about other places, also--the
+German Embassy, for example, where, inside the Embassy itself, not
+only France but also the United States Government was represented by a
+secret agent among the personnel.
+
+"We try to learn what goes on among the boches," he said carelessly.
+"They try the same game. But, Barres, they are singularly stupid at
+such things--not adroit, merely clumsy and brutal. The Hun cannot
+camouflage his native ferocity. He reveals himself.
+
+"And in that respect it is fortunate for civilisation that it is
+dealing with barbarians. Their cunning is of the swinish sort. Their
+stench ultimately discovers them. You are discovering it for
+yourselves; you detected Dernberg; you already sniff Von Papen,
+Boy-ed, Bernstorff. All over the world the nauseous effluvia from the
+vast Teutonic hog-pen is being detected and recognised. And
+civilisation is taking sanitary measures to abate the nuisance.... And
+your country, too, will one day send out a sanitary brigade to help
+clean up the world, just as you now supply our details with the
+necessary chlorides and antiseptics."
+
+Barres laughed:
+
+"You are very picturesque," he said. "And I'll tell you one thing, if
+we don't join the sanitary corps now operating, I shall go out with a
+bottle of chloride myself."
+
+They entered Dragon Court a few moments later. Nobody was at the desk,
+it being late.
+
+"To-morrow," said Barres, as they ascended the stairs, "my friends,
+Miss Soane, Miss Dunois, and Mr. Westmore are to be our guests
+at Foreland Farms. You didn't know that, did you?" he added
+sarcastically.
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Renoux, much amused. "Miss Dunois, as you call her,
+sent her trunks away this evening."
+
+Barres, surprised and annoyed, halted on the landing:
+
+"Your people didn't interfere, I hope."
+
+"No. There was nothing in them of interest to us," said Renoux
+naïvely. "I sent a report when I sent on to Washington the papers
+which you secured for us."
+
+Barres paused before his studio door, key in hand. They could hear the
+gramophone going inside. He said:
+
+"I don't have to ask you to be fair, Renoux, because the man who is
+unfair to others swindles himself, and you are too decent, too
+intelligent to do that. I am going to present you to Thessalie Dunois,
+which happens to be her real name, and I am going to tell her in your
+presence who you are. Then I shall leave you alone with her."
+
+He fitted his latchkey and opened the door.
+
+Westmore was trying fancy dancing with Dulcie on one side, and
+Thessalie on the other--the latter evidently directing operations.
+
+"Garry!" exclaimed Thessalie.
+
+"You're a fine one! Where have you been?" began Westmore. Then he
+caught sight of Renoux and became silent.
+
+Barres led his comrade forward and presented him:
+
+"A fellow student of the Beaux Arts," he explained, "and we've had a
+very jolly evening together. And, Thessa, there is something in
+particular that I should like to have you explain to Monsieur Renoux,
+if you don't mind...." He turned and looked at Dulcie: "If you will
+pardon us a moment, Sweetness."
+
+She nodded and smiled and took Westmore's arm again, and continued the
+dance alone with him while Barres, drawing Thessalie's arm through
+his, and passing his other arm through Renoux's, walked leisurely
+through his studio, through the now open folding doors, past his
+bedroom and Westmore's, and into the latter's studio beyond.
+
+"Thessa, dear," he said very quietly, "I feel very certain that
+the worst of your troubles are about to end----" He felt her
+start slightly. "And," he continued, "I have brought my comrade,
+Renoux, here to-night so that you and he can clear up a terrible
+misunderstanding.
+
+"And Monsieur Renoux, once a student of architecture at the Beaux
+Arts, is now Captain Renoux of the Intelligence Department in the
+French Army----"
+
+Thessalie lost her colour and a tremor passed through the arm which
+lay within his.
+
+But he said calmly:
+
+"It is the only way as well as the best way, Thessa. I know you are
+absolutely innocent. I am confident that Captain Renoux is going to
+believe it, too. If he does not, you are no worse off. Because it has
+already become known to the French Government that you are here.
+Renoux knew it."
+
+They had halted; Barres led Thessalie to a seat. Renoux, straight,
+deferential, correct, awaited her pleasure.
+
+She looked up at him; his keen, intelligent eyes met hers.
+
+"If you please, Captain Renoux, will you do me the honour to be
+seated?" she said in a low voice.
+
+Barres went to her, bent over her hand, touched it with his lips.
+
+"Just tell him the truth, Thessa, dear," he said.
+
+"Everything?" she smiled faintly, "including our first meeting?"
+
+Barres flushed, then laughed:
+
+"Yes, tell him about that, too. It was too charming for him not to
+appreciate."
+
+And with a half mischievous, half amused nod to Renoux he went back to
+find the dancers, whom he could hear laughing far away in his own
+studio.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was nearly one o'clock when Dulcie, who had been sleeping with
+Thessalie, whispered to Barres that she was ready to retire.
+
+"Indeed, you had better," he said, releasing her as the dance music
+ran down and ceased. "If you don't get some sleep you won't feel like
+travelling to-morrow."
+
+"Will you explain to Thessa?"
+
+"Of course. Good-night, dear."
+
+She gave him her hand in silence, turned and offered it to Westmore,
+then went away toward her room.
+
+Westmore, who had been fidgeting a lot since Thessalie had retired for
+a tête-à-tête with a perfectly unknown and alarmingly good-looking
+young man whom he never before had laid eyes on, finally turned short
+in his restless pacing of the studio.
+
+"What the deuce can be keeping Thessa?" he demanded. "And who the
+devil is that black-eyed young sprig of France you brought home with
+you?"
+
+"Sit down and I'll tell you," said Barres crisply, instinctively
+resenting his friend's uncalled for solicitude in Thessalie's behalf.
+
+So Westmore seated himself and Barres told him all about the evening's
+adventures. And he was still lingering unctuously over the details of
+the battle at Grogan's, the recital of which, Westmore demanding, he
+had begun again, when at the farther end of the studio Thessalie
+appeared, coming toward them.
+
+Renoux was beside her, very deferential and graceful in his
+attendance, and with that niceness of attitude which confesses respect
+in every movement.
+
+Thessalie came forward; Barres advanced to meet her with the unspoken
+question in his eyes, and she gave him both her hands with a tremulous
+little smile of happiness.
+
+"Is it all right?" he whispered.
+
+"I think so."
+
+Barres turned and grasped Renoux by one hand.
+
+The latter said:
+
+"There is not the slightest doubt in my mind, mon ami. You were
+perfectly right. A frightful injustice has been done in this matter.
+Of that I am absolutely convinced."
+
+"You will do what you can to set things right?"
+
+"Of course," said Renoux simply.
+
+There was a moment's silence, then Renoux smiled:
+
+"You know," he said lightly, "we French have a horror of any more
+mistakes like the Dreyfus case. We are terribly sensitive. Be assured
+that my Government will take up this affair instantly upon receiving
+my report."
+
+He turned to Barres:
+
+"Would you, perhaps, offer me a day's hospitality at your home in the
+country, if I should request it by telegram sometime this week or
+next?"
+
+"You bet," replied Barres cordially.
+
+Then Renoux made his adieux, as only such a Frenchman can make them,
+saying exactly the right thing to each, in exactly the right manner.
+
+When he was gone, Barres took Thessalie's hands and pressed them:
+
+"Pretty merle-blanc, your little friend Dulcie is already asleep. Tell
+us to-morrow how you convinced him that you are what you are--the
+dearest, sweetest girl in the world!"
+
+She laughed demurely, then glanced apprehensively, sideways, at
+Westmore.
+
+And the mute but infuriated expression on that young man's countenance
+seemed to cause her the loss of all self-possession, for she cast one
+more look at him and fled with a hasty "good-night!"
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+FORELAND FARMS
+
+
+Toward three o'clock on the following afternoon the sun opened up like
+a searchlight through the veil of rain, dissolving it to a golden haze
+which gradually grew thinner and thinner, revealing glimpses of
+rolling country against a horizon of low mountains.
+
+About the same time the covered station wagon turned in between the
+white gates of Foreland Farms, proceeded at a smart trot up the drive,
+and stopped under a dripping porte-cochère, where a smiling servant
+stood waiting to lift out the luggage.
+
+A trim looking man of forty odd, in soft shirt and fawn coloured
+knickers, and wearing a monocle in his right eye and a flower in his
+buttonhole, came out on the porch as Barres and his guests descended.
+
+"Well, Garry," he said, "I'm glad you're home at last! But you're
+rather late for the fishing." And to Westmore:
+
+"How are you, Jim? Jolly to have you back! But I regret to inform you
+that the fishing is very poor just now."
+
+His son, who stood an inch or two taller than his debonaire parent,
+passed one arm around his shoulders and patted them affectionately
+while the easy presentations were concluded.
+
+At the same moment two women, beautifully mounted and very wet,
+galloped up to the porch and welcomed Garry's guests from their
+saddles in the pleasant, informal, incurious manner characteristic of
+Foreland Farm folk--a manner which seemed too amiably certain of
+itself to feel responsibility for anybody or anything else.
+
+Easy, unconcerned, slender and clean-built women these--Mrs. Reginald
+Barres, Garry's mother, and her daughter, Lee. And in their smart,
+rain-wet riding clothes they might easily have been sisters, with a
+few years' difference between them, so agreeably had Time behaved
+toward Mrs. Barres, so closely her fair-haired, fair-skinned daughter
+resembled her.
+
+They swung carelessly out of their saddles and set spurred foot to
+turf, and, with Garret and his guests, sauntered into the big living
+hall, where a maid waited with wine and biscuits and the housekeeper
+lingered to conduct Thessalie and Dulcie to their rooms.
+
+Dulcie Soane, in her pretty travelling gown, walked beside Mrs.
+Reginald Barres into the first great house she had ever entered.
+Composed, but shyly enchanted, an odd but delightful sensation
+possessed her that she was where she belonged--that such environment,
+such people should always have been familiar to her--were logical and
+familiar to her now.
+
+Mrs. Barres was saying:
+
+"And if you like parties, there is always gaiety at Northbrook. But
+you don't have to go anywhere or do anything you don't wish to."
+
+Dulcie said, diffidently, that she liked everything, and Mrs. Barres
+laughed.
+
+"Then you'll be very popular," she said, tossing her riding crop onto
+the table and stripping off her wet gloves.
+
+Barres senior was already in serious confab with Westmore concerning
+piscatorial conditions, the natural low water of midsummer, the
+capricious conduct of the trout in the streams and in the upper and
+lower lakes.
+
+"They won't look at anything until sunset," he explained, "and then
+they don't mean business. You'll see, Jim. I'm sorry; you should have
+come in June."
+
+Lee, Garret's boyishly slim sister, had already begun to exchange
+opinions about horses with Thessalie, for both had been familiar with
+the saddle since childhood, though the latter's Cossack horsemanship
+and mastery of the haute école, incident to her recent and irregular
+profession, might have astonished Lee Barres.
+
+Mrs. Barres was saying to Dulcie:
+
+"We don't try to entertain one another here, but everybody seems to
+have a perfectly good time. The main thing is that we all feel quite
+free at Foreland. You'll lose yourself indoors at first. The family
+for a hundred years has been adding these absurd two-story wings, so
+that the house wanders at random over the landscape, and you may have
+to inquire your way about in the beginning."
+
+She smiled again at Dulcie and took her hand in both of hers:
+
+"I'm sure you will like the Farms," she said, linking her other arm
+through her son's. "I'm rather wet, Garry," she added, "but I think
+Lee and I had better dry out in the saddle." And to Dulcie again: "Tea
+at five, if anybody wishes it. Would you like to see your room?"
+
+Thessalie, conversing with Lee, turned smilingly to be included in the
+suggestion; and the maid came forward to conduct her and Dulcie
+through the intricacies of the big, casual, sprawling house, where
+rooms and corridors and halls rambled unexpectedly and irrelevantly
+in every direction, and one vista seemed to terminate in another.
+
+When they had disappeared, the Barres family turned to inspect its son
+and heir with habitual and humorous insouciance, commenting frankly
+upon his personal appearance and concluding that his health still
+remained all that could be desired by the most solicitous of parents
+and sisters.
+
+"There are rods already rigged up in the work-room," remarked his
+father, "if you and your guests care to try a dry-fly this evening. As
+for me, you'll find me somewhere around the upper lake, if you care to
+look for me----"
+
+He fished out of his pocket a bewildering tangle of fine mist-leaders,
+and, leisurely disentangling them, strolled toward the porch, still
+talking:
+
+"There's only one fly they deign to notice, now--a dust-coloured midge
+tied in reverse with no hackle, no tinsel, a May-fly tail, and barred
+canary wing----" He nodded wisely over his shoulder at his son and
+Westmore, as though sharing with them a delightful secret of
+world-wide importance, and continued on toward the porch, serenely
+interested in his tangled leaders.
+
+Garret glanced at his mother and sister; they both laughed. He said:
+
+"Dad is one of those rarest of modern beings, a genuine angler of the
+old school. After all the myriad trout and salmon he has caught in a
+career devoted to fishing, the next fish he catches gives him just as
+fine a thrill as did the very first one he ever hooked! It's quite
+wonderful, isn't it, mother?"
+
+"It's probably what keeps him so youthful," remarked Westmore. "The
+thing to do is to have something to do. That's the elixir of youth.
+Look at your mother, Garry. She's had a busy handful bringing you
+up!"
+
+Garret looked at his slender, attractive mother and laughed again:
+
+"Is that what keeps you so young and pretty, mother?--looking after
+me?"
+
+"Alas, Garry, I'm over forty, and I look it!"
+
+"Do you?--you sweet little thing!" he interrupted, picking her up
+suddenly from the floor and marching proudly around the room with her.
+"Gaze upon my mother, Jim! Isn't she cunning? Isn't she the smartest
+little thing in America? Behave yourself, mother! Your grateful son is
+showing you off to the appreciative young gentleman from New
+York----"
+
+"You're ridiculous! Jim! Make him put me down!"
+
+But her tall son swung her to his shoulder and placed her high on the
+mantel shelf over the huge fireplace; where she sat beside the clock,
+charming, resentful, but helpless, her spurred boots dangling down.
+
+"Come on, Lee!" cried her brother, "I'm going to put you up beside
+her. That mantel needs ornamental bric-a-brac and objets d'art----"
+
+Lee turned to escape, but her brother cornered and caught her, and
+swung her high, seating her beside his indignant mother.
+
+"Just as though we were two Angora kittens," remarked Lee, sidling
+along the stone shelf toward her mother. Then she glanced out through
+the open front door. "Lift us down, quick, Garry. You'd better! The
+horses are in the flower beds and there'll be no more bouquets for the
+table in another minute!"
+
+So he lifted them off the mantel and they hastily departed, each
+administering correction with her riding crop as she dodged past him
+and escaped.
+
+"If your guests want horses you know where to find them!" called back
+his sister from the porch. And presently she and his mother, securely
+mounted, went cantering away across country, where grass and fern and
+leaf and blossom were glistening in the rising breeze, weighted down
+with diamond drops of rain.
+
+Westmore walked leisurely toward his quarters, to freshen up and don
+knickers. Garret followed him into the west wing, whistling
+contentedly under his breath, inspecting each remembered object with
+great content as he passed, nodding smilingly to the servants he
+encountered, lingering on the landing to acknowledge the civilities of
+the ancient family cat, who recognised him with effusion but coyly
+fled the advances of Westmore, ignoring all former and repeated
+introductions.
+
+Their rooms adjoined and they conversed through the doorway while
+engaged in ablutions.
+
+Presently, from behind his sheer sash-curtains, Westmore caught sight
+of Thessalie on the west terrace below. She wore a shell-pink frock
+and a most distractingly pretty hat; and he hurried his dressing as
+much as he could without awaking Garret's suspicions.
+
+A few minutes later, radiant in white flannels, he appeared on the
+terrace, breathing rather fast but wreathed in persuasive smiles.
+
+"I know this place; I'll take you for a walk where you won't get your
+shoes wet. Shall I?" he suggested, with all his guile and cunning
+quite plain to Thessalie, and his purpose perfectly transparent to her
+smiling eyes.
+
+But she consented prettily, and went with him without demurring,
+picking her way over the stepping-stone walk with downcast gaze and
+the trace of a smile on her lips--a smile as delicately indefinable as
+the fancy which moved her to accept this young man's headlong
+advances--which had recognized them and accepted them from the first.
+But why, she did not even yet understand.
+
+"Agreeable weather, isn't it?" said Westmore, fatuously revealing his
+present paucity of ideas apart from those which concerned the wooing
+of her. And he was an intelligent young man at that, and a sculptor of
+attainment, too. But now, in his infatuated head, there remained room
+only for one thought, the thought of this girl who walked so demurely
+and daintily beside him over the flat, grass-set stepping stones
+toward the three white pines on the little hill.
+
+For it had been something or other at first sight with Westmore--love,
+perhaps--anyway that is what he called the mental chaos which now
+disorganised him. And it was certain that something happened to him
+the first time he laid eyes on Thessalie Dunois. He knew it, and she
+could not avoid seeing it, so entirely naïve his behaviour, so utterly
+guileless his manoeuvres, so direct, unfeigned and childish his
+methods of approach.
+
+At moments she felt nervous and annoyed by his behaviour; at other
+times apprehensive and helpless, as though she were responsible for
+something that did not know how to take care of itself--something
+immature, irrational, and entirely at her mercy. And it may have been
+the feminine response to this increasing sense of obligation--the
+confused instinct to guide, admonish and protect--that began being the
+matter with her.
+
+Anyway, from the beginning the man had a certain fascination for her,
+unwillingly divined on her part, yet specifically agreeable even to
+the point of exhilaration. Also, somehow or other, the girl realised
+he had a brain.
+
+And yet he was a pitiably hopeless case; for even now he was saying
+such things as:
+
+"Are you quite sure that your feet are dry? I should never forgive
+myself, Thessa, if you took cold.... Are you tired?... How wonderful
+it is to be here alone with you, and strive to interpret the mystery
+of your mind and heart! Sit here under the pines. I'll spread my coat
+for you.... Nature is wonderful, isn't it, Thessa?"
+
+And when she gravely consented to seat herself he dropped recklessly
+onto the wet pine needles at her feet, and spoke with imbecile delight
+again of nature--of how wonderful were its protean manifestations, and
+how its beauties were not meant to be enjoyed alone but in mystic
+communion with another who understood.
+
+It was curious, too, but this stuff seemed to appeal to her, some
+commonplace chord within her evidently responding. She sighed and
+looked at the mountains. They really were miracles of colour--masses
+of purest cobalt, now, along the horizon.
+
+But perhaps the trite things they uttered did not really matter;
+probably it made no difference to them what they said. And even if he
+had murmured: "There are milestones along the road to Dover," she
+might have responded: "There was an old woman who lived in a shoe";
+and neither of them would have heard anything at all except the rapid,
+confused, and voiceless conversation of two youthful human hearts
+beating out endless questions and answers that never moved their
+smiling lips. There was the mystery, if any--the constant wireless
+current under the haphazard flow of words.
+
+There was no wind in the pines; meadow and pasture, woodland and swale
+stretched away at their feet to the distant, dark-blue hills. And all
+around them hung the rain-washed fragrance of midsummer under a still,
+cloudless sky.
+
+"It seems impossible that there can be war anywhere in the world," she
+said.
+
+"You know," he began, "it's getting on my nerves the way those swine
+from the Rhine are turning this decent green world into a bloody
+wallow! Unless we do something about it pretty soon, I think I'll go
+over."
+
+She looked up:
+
+"Where?"
+
+"To France."
+
+She remained silent for a while, merely lifting her dark eyes to him
+at intervals; then she grew preoccupied with other thoughts that left
+her brows bent slightly inward and her mouth very grave.
+
+He gazed reflectively out over the fields and woods:
+
+"Yes, I can't stand it much longer," he mused aloud.
+
+"What would you do there?" she inquired.
+
+"Anything. I could drive a car. But if they'll take me in some
+Canadian unit--or one of the Foreign Legions--it would suit me.... You
+know a man can't go on just living in the world while this beastly
+business continues--can't go on eating and sleeping and shaving and
+dressing as though half of civilisation were not rolling in agony and
+blood, stabbed through and through----"
+
+His voice caught--he checked himself and slowly passed his hand over
+his smoothly shaven face.
+
+"Those splendid poilus," he said; "where they stand we Americans ought
+to be standing, too.... God knows why we hesitate.... I can't tell you
+what we think.... Some of us--don't agree--with the Administration."
+
+His jaws snapped on the word; he stared out through the sunshine at
+the swallows, now skimming the uncut hay fields in their gusty evening
+flight.
+
+"Are you really going?" she asked, at length.
+
+"Yes. I'll wait a little while longer to see what my country is going
+to do. If it doesn't stir during the next month or two, I shall go. I
+think Garry will go, too."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Of course," he remarked, "we'd prefer our own flag, Garry and I. But
+if it is to remain furled----" He shrugged, picked a spear of grass,
+and sat brooding and breaking it into tiny pieces.
+
+"The only thing that troubles me," he went on presently, keeping his
+gaze riveted on his busy fingers, "the only thing that worries me is
+you!"
+
+"Me?" she exclaimed softly. And an inexplicable little thrill shot
+through her.
+
+"You," he repeated. "You worry me to death."
+
+She considered him a moment, her lips parted as though she were about
+to say something, but it remained unsaid, and a slight colour came
+into her cheeks.
+
+"What am I to do about you?" he went on, apparently addressing the
+blade of grass he was staring at. "I can't leave you as matters
+stand."
+
+She said:
+
+"Please, you are not responsible for me, are you?" And tried to laugh,
+but scarcely smiled.
+
+"I want to be," he muttered. "I desire to be entirely----"
+
+"Thank you. You have been more than kind. And very soon I hope I shall
+be on happy terms with my own Government again. Then your solicitude
+should cease."
+
+"If your Government listens to reason----"
+
+"Then I also could go to France!" she interrupted. "Merely to think of
+it excites me beyond words!"
+
+He looked up quickly:
+
+"You wish to go back?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How can you ask that! If you had been a disgraced exile as I have
+been, as I still am--and falsely accused of shameful things--annoyed,
+hounded, blackmailed, offered bribes, constantly importuned to become
+what I am not--a traitor to my own people--would you not be wildly
+happy to be proven innocent? Would you not be madly impatient to
+return and prove your devotion to your own land?"
+
+"I understand," he said in a low voice.
+
+"Of course you understand. Do you imagine that I, a French girl, would
+have remained here in shameful security if I could have gone back to
+France and helped? I would have done anything--anything, I tell
+you--scrubbed the floors of hospitals, worked my fingers to the
+bone----"
+
+"I'll wait till you go," he said.... "They'll clear your record very
+soon, I expect. I'll wait. And we'll go together. Shall we, Thessa?"
+
+But she had not seemed to hear him; her dark eyes grew remote, her
+gaze swept the sapphire distance. It was his hand laid lightly over
+hers that aroused her, and she withdrew her fingers with a frown of
+remonstrance.
+
+"Won't you let me speak?" he said. "Won't you let me tell you what my
+heart tells me?"
+
+She shook her head slowly:
+
+"I don't desire to hear yet--I don't know where my own heart--or even
+my mind is--or what I think about--anything. Please be reasonable."
+She stole a look at him to see how he was taking it, and there was
+concern enough in her glance to give him a certain amount of hope had
+he noticed it.
+
+"You like me, Thessa, don't you?" he urged.
+
+"Have I not admitted it? Do you know that you are becoming a serious
+responsibility to me? You worry me, too! You are like a boy with all
+your emotions reflected on your features and every thought perfectly
+unconcealed and every impulse followed by unconsidered behaviour.
+
+"Be reasonable. I have asked it a hundred times of you in vain. I
+shall ask it, probably, innumerable times before you comply with my
+request. Don't show so plainly that you imagine yourself in love. It
+embarrasses me, it annoys Garry, and I don't know what his family will
+think----"
+
+"But if I _am_ in love, why not----"
+
+"Does one advertise all one's most intimate and secret and--and sacred
+emotions?" she interrupted in sudden and breathless annoyance. "It is
+not the way that successful courtship is conducted, I warn you! It is
+not delicate, it is not considerate, it is not sensible.... And I _do_
+want you to--to be always--sensible and considerate. I _want_ to like
+you."
+
+He looked at her in a sort of dazed way:
+
+"I'll try to please you," he said. "But it seems to confuse
+me--being so suddenly bowled over--a thing like that rather knocks
+a man out--so unexpected, you know!--and there isn't much use
+pretending," he went on excitedly. "I can't see anybody else in
+the world except you! I can't think of anybody else! I'm madly in
+love--blindly, desperately----"
+
+"Oh, please, _please_!" she remonstrated. "I'm not a girl to be taken
+by storm! I've seen too much--lived too much! I'm not a Tzigane to be
+galloped alongside of and swung to a man's saddle-bow! Also, I shall
+tell you one thing more. Happiness and laughter are necessities to
+me! And they seem to be becoming extinct in you."
+
+"Hang it!" he demanded tragically, "how can I laugh when I'm in
+love!"
+
+At that a sudden, irresponsible little peal of laughter parted her
+lips.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she said, "you _are_ funny! Is it a matter of prayer and
+fasting, then, this gloomy sentiment which you say you entertain for
+me? I don't know whether to be flattered or vexed--you are _so_
+funny!" And her laughter rang out again, clear and uncontrolled.
+
+The girl was quite irresistible in her care-free gaiety; her lovely
+face and delicious laughter no man could utterly withstand, and
+presently a faint grin became visible on his features.
+
+"Now," she cried gaily, "you are becoming human and not a Grecian mask
+or a gargoyle! Remain so, mon ami, if you expect me to wish you good
+luck in your love--your various affairs----" She blushed as she
+checked herself. But he said very quickly:
+
+"Will you wish me luck, Thessa, in my various love affairs?"
+
+"How many have you on hand?"
+
+"Exactly one. Do you wish me a sporting chance? Do you, Thessa?"
+
+"Why--yes----"
+
+"Will you wish me good luck in my courtship of you?"
+
+The quick colour again swept her cheeks at that, but she laughed
+defiantly:
+
+"Yes," she said, "I wish you luck in that, also. Only remember
+this--whether you win or lose you must laugh. _That_ is good
+sportsmanship. Do you promise? Very well! Then I wish you the best of
+luck in your--various--courtships! And may the girl you win at least
+know how to laugh!"
+
+"She certainly does," he said so naïvely that they both gave way to
+laughter again, finding each other delightfully absurd.
+
+"It's the key to my heart, laughter--in case you are looking for the
+key," she said daringly. "The world is a grim scaffold, mon ami; mount
+it gaily and go to the far gods laughing. Tell me, is there a better
+way to go?"
+
+"No; it's the right way, Thessa. I shan't be a gloom any more. Come
+on; let's walk! What if you do get your bally shoes wet! I'm through
+mooning and fussing and worrying over you, young lady! You're as
+sturdy and vigorous as I am. After all, it's a comrade a man wants in
+the world--not a white mouse in cotton batting! Come! Are you going
+for a brisk walk across country? Or are you a white mouse?"
+
+She stood up in her dainty shoes and frail gown and cast a glance of
+hurt reproach at him.
+
+"Don't be brutal," she said. "I'm not dressed to climb trees and
+fences with you."
+
+"You won't come?"
+
+Their eyes met in silent conflict for a few moments. Then she said:
+"Please don't make me.... It's such a darling gown, Jim."
+
+A wave of deep happiness enveloped him and he laughed: "All right," he
+said, "I won't ask you to spoil your frock!" And he spread his coat on
+the pine needles for her once more.
+
+She considered the situation for a few moments before she sat down.
+But she did seat herself.
+
+"Now," he said, "we are going to discuss a situation. This is the
+situation: I am deeply in love. And you're quite right, it's no
+funeral; it's a joyous thing to be in love. It's a delight, a gaiety,
+a happy enchantment. Isn't it?"
+
+She cast a rather shy and apprehensive glance at him, but nodded
+slightly.
+
+"Very well," he said, "I'm in love, and I'm happy and proud to be in
+love. What I wish then, naturally, is marriage, a home, children----"
+
+"Please, Jim!"
+
+"But I can't have 'em! Why? Because I'm going to France. And the girl
+I wish to marry is going also. And while I bang away at the boche she
+makes herself useful in canteens, rest-houses, hospitals, orphanages,
+everywhere, in fact, where she is needed."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And after it's all over--all over--and ended----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Then--then if she finds out that she loves me----"
+
+"Yes, Jim--if she finds that out.... And thank you for--asking me--so
+sweetly."... She turned sharply and looked out over a valley suddenly
+blurred.
+
+For it had been otherwise with her in years gone by, and men had
+spoken then quite as plainly but differently. Only d'Eblis, burnt out,
+done for, and obsessed, had wearily and unwillingly advanced that
+far.... And Ferez, too; but that was unthinkable of a creature in whom
+virtue and vice were of the same virus.
+
+Looking blindly out over the valley she said:
+
+"If my Government deals justly with me, then I shall go to France with
+you as your comrade. If I ever find that I love you I will be your
+wife.... Until then----" She stretched out her hand, not looking
+around at him; and they exchanged a quick, firm clasp.
+
+And so matters progressed between, these two--rather ominously for
+Barres, in case he entertained any really serious sentiments in regard
+to Thessalie. And, recently, he had been vaguely conscious that he
+entertained something or other concerning the girl which caused him to
+look with slight amazement and unsympathetic eyes upon the all too
+obvious behaviour of his comrade Westmore.
+
+At present he was standing in the summer house which terminated the
+blossoming tunnel of the rose arbour, watching water falling into a
+stone basin from the fishy mouth of a wall fountain, and wondering
+where Thessalie and Westmore had gone.
+
+Dulcie, in a thin white frock and leghorn hat, roaming entranced and
+at hazard over lawn and through shrubbery and garden, encountered him
+there, still squinting abstractedly at the water spout.
+
+It was the first time the girl had seen him since their arrival at
+Foreland Farms. And now, as she paused under the canopy of fragrant
+rain-drenched roses and looked at this man who had made all this
+possible for her, she suddenly felt the change within herself, fitting
+her for it all--a subtle metamorphosis completing itself within
+her--the final accomplishment of a transmutation, deep, radical,
+permanent.
+
+For her, the stark, starved visage which Life had worn had relaxed; in
+the grim, forbidding wall which had closed her horizon, a door opened,
+showing a corner of a world where she knew, somehow, she belonged.
+
+And in her heart, too, a door seemed to open, and her youthful soul
+stepped out of it, naked, fearless, quite certain of itself and, for
+the first time during their brief and earthly partnership, quite
+certain of the body wherein it dwelt.
+
+He was thinking of Thessalie when Dulcie came up and stood beside
+him, looking down into the water where a few goldfish swam.
+
+"Well, Sweetness," he said, brightening, "you look very wonderful in
+white, with that big hat on your very enchanting red hair."
+
+"I feel both wonderful and enchanted," she said, lifting her eyes. "I
+shall live in the country some day."
+
+"Really?" he said smiling.
+
+"Yes, when I earn enough money. Do you remember the crazy way
+Strindberg rolls around? Well, I feel like doing it on that lawn."
+
+"Go ahead and do it," he urged. But she only laughed and chased the
+goldfish around the basin with gentle fingers.
+
+"Dulcie," he said, "you're unfolding, you're blossoming, you're
+developing feminine snap and go and pep and je-ne-sais-quoi."
+
+"You're teasing. But I believe I'm very feminine--and mature--though
+you don't think so."
+
+"Well, I don't think you're exactly at an age called well-preserved,"
+he said, laughing. He took her hands and drew her up to confront him.
+"You're not too old to have me as a playmate, Sweetness, are you?"
+
+She seemed to be doubtful.
+
+"What! Nonsense! And you're not too old to be bullied and coaxed and
+petted----"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"And you're not too old to pose for me----"
+
+She grew pink and looked down at the submerged goldfish. And, keeping
+her eyes there:
+
+"I wanted to ask you," she said, "how much longer you think you would
+require me--that way."
+
+There was a silence. Then she looked at him out of her frank grey
+eyes.
+
+"You know I'll do what you wish," she said. "And I know it is quite
+all right...." She smiled at him. "I belong to you: you made me....
+And you know all about me. So you ought to use me as you wish."
+
+"You don't want to pose?" he said.
+
+"Yes, except----"
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Are you annoyed?"
+
+"No, Sweetness. It's all right."
+
+"You are annoyed--disappointed! And I won't have it. I--I couldn't
+stand it--to have you displeased----"
+
+He said pleasantly:
+
+"I'm not displeased, Dulcie. And there's no use discussing it. If you
+have the slightest feeling that way, when we go back to town I'll do
+things like the Arethusa from somebody else----"
+
+"Please don't!" she exclaimed in such naïve alarm that he began to
+laugh and she blushed vividly.
+
+"Oh, you are feminine, all right!" he said. "If it isn't to be you it
+isn't to be anybody."
+
+"I didn't mean that.... _Yes_, I did!"
+
+"Oh, Dulcie! Shame! _You_ jealous!--even to the verge of sacrificing
+your own feelings----"
+
+"I don't know what it is, but I'd rather you used me for your
+Arethusa. You know," she added wistfully, "that we began it
+together."
+
+"Right, Sweetness. And we'll finish it together or not at all. Are you
+satisfied?"
+
+She smiled, sighed, nodded. He released her lovely, childlike hands
+and she walked to the doorway of the summer house and looked out over
+the wall-bed, where tall thickets of hollyhock and blue larkspur
+stretched away in perspective toward a grove of trees and a little
+pond beyond.
+
+His painter's eye, already busy with the beauty of her face and
+figure against the riot of flowers, and almost mechanically
+transposing both into terms of colour and value, went blind suddenly
+as she turned and looked at him.
+
+And for the first time--perhaps with truer vision--he became aware of
+what else this young girl was besides a satisfying combination of tint
+and contour--this lithe young thing palpitating with life--this
+slender, gently breathing girl with her grey eyes meeting his so
+candidly--this warm young human being who belonged more truly in the
+living scheme of things than she did on painted canvas or in marble.
+
+From this unexpected angle, and suddenly, he found himself viewing her
+for the first time--not as a plaything, not as a petted model, not as
+an object appealing to his charity, not as an experiment in
+altruism--nor sentimentally either, nor as a wistful child without a
+childhood.
+
+Perhaps, to him, she had once been all of these. He looked at her with
+other eyes now, beginning, possibly, to realise something of the
+terrific responsibility he was so lightly assuming.
+
+He got up from his bench and went over to her; and the girl turned a
+trifle pale with excitement and delight.
+
+"Why did you come to me?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Did you know I was trying to make you get up and come to me?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Yes! Isn't it curious? I looked at you and kept thinking, 'I want you
+to get up and come to me! I want you to _come_! I _want_ you!' And
+suddenly you got up and came!"
+
+He looked at her out of curious, unsmiling eyes:
+
+"It's your turn, after all, Dulcie."
+
+"How is it my turn?"
+
+"I drew you--in the beginning," he said slowly.
+
+There was a silence. Then, abruptly, her heart began to beat very
+rapidly, scaring her dumb with its riotous behaviour. When at length
+her consternation subsided and her irregular breathing became
+composed, she said, quite calmly:
+
+"You and all that you are and believe in and care for very naturally
+attracted me--drew me one evening to your open door.... It will always
+be the same--you, and what of life and knowledge you represent--will
+never fail to draw me."
+
+"But--though I am just beginning to divine it--you also drew _me_,
+Dulcie."
+
+"How could that be?"
+
+"You did. You do still. I am just waking up to that fact. And that
+starts me wondering what I'd do without you."
+
+"You don't have to do without me," she said, instinctively laying her
+hand over her heart; it was beating so hard and, she feared, so loud.
+"You can always have me when you wish. You know that."
+
+"For a while, yes. But some day, when----"
+
+"Always!"
+
+He laughed without knowing why.
+
+"You'll marry some day, Sweetness," he insisted.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Oh, yes you will----"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+But she only looked away and shook her head. And the silent motion of
+dissent gave him an odd sense of relief.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+A LION IN THE PATH
+
+
+With the decline of day came enough of a chill to spin a delicate
+cobweb of mist across the country and cover forests and hills with a
+bluish bloom.
+
+The sunset had become a splashy crimson affair, perhaps a bit too
+theatrical. In the red blaze Thessalie and Westmore came wandering
+down from the three pines on the hill, and found Barres on the lawn
+scowling at the celestial conflagration in the west, and Dulcie seated
+near on the fountain rim, silent, distrait, watching the scarlet
+ripples spreading from the plashing central jet.
+
+"You can't paint a thing like that, Garry," remarked Westmore. Barres
+looked around:
+
+"I don't want to. Where have you been, Thessa?"
+
+"Under those pines over there. We supposed you'd see us and come up."
+
+Barres glanced at her with an inscrutable expression; Dulcie's grey
+eyes rested on Barres. Thessalie walked over to the reddened pool.
+
+"It's like a prophecy of blood, that water," she said. "And over there
+the world is in flames."
+
+"The Western World," added Westmore, "I hope it's an omen that we
+shall soon catch fire. How long are you going to wait, Garry?"
+
+Barres started to answer, but checked himself, and glanced across at
+Dulcie without knowing exactly why.
+
+"I don't know," he said irresolutely. "I'm fed up now.... But----" he
+continued to look vaguely at Dulcie, as though something of his
+uncertainty remotely concerned her.
+
+"I'm ready to go over when you are," remarked Westmore, placidly
+smiling at Thessalie, who immediately presented her pretty profile to
+him and settled down on the fountain rim beside Dulcie.
+
+"Darling," she said, "it's about time to dress. Are you going to wear
+that enchanting white affair we discovered at Mandel's?"
+
+Barres senior came sauntering out of the woods and through the wall
+gate, switching a limber rod reflectively. He obligingly opened his
+creel and displayed half a dozen long, slim trout.
+
+"They all took that midge fly I described to you this afternoon," he
+said, with the virtuous satisfaction of all prophets.
+
+Everybody inspected the crimson-flecked fish while Barres senior stood
+twirling his monocle.
+
+"Are we dining at home?" inquired his son.
+
+"I believe so. There is a guest of honour, if I recollect--some fellow
+they're lionising--I don't remember.... And one or two others--the
+Gerhardts, I believe."
+
+"Then we'd better dress, I think," said Thessalie, encircling Dulcie's
+waist.
+
+"Sorry," said Barres senior, "hoped to take you young ladies out on
+the second lake and let you try for a big fish this evening."
+
+He walked across the lawn beside them, switching his rod as
+complacently as a pleased cat twitches its tail.
+
+"We'll try it to-morrow evening," he continued reassuringly, as though
+all their most passionate hopes had been bound up in the suggested
+sport; "it's rather annoying--I can't remember who's dining with
+us--some celebrated Irishman--poet of sorts--literary chap--guest of
+the Gerhardts--neighbours, you know. It's a nuisance to bother with
+dinner when the trout rise only after sunset."
+
+"Don't you ever dine willingly, Mr. Barres, while the trout are
+rising?" inquired Thessalie, laughing.
+
+"Never willingly," he replied in a perfectly sincere voice. "I prefer
+to remain near the water and have a bit of supper when I return." He
+smiled at Thessalie indulgently. "No doubt it amuses you, but I wager
+that you and little Miss Soane here will feel exactly as I do after
+you've caught your first big trout."
+
+They entered the house together, followed by Garry and Westmore.
+
+A dim, ruddy glow still lingered in the quiet rooms; every window
+glass was still lighted by the sun's smouldering ashes sinking in the
+west; no lamps had yet been lighted on the ground floor.
+
+"It's the magic hour on the water," Barres senior confided to Dulcie,
+"and here I am, doomed to a stiff shirt and table talk. In other
+words, nailed!" And he gave her a mysterious, melancholy, but
+significant look as though she alone were really fitted to understand
+the distressing dilemmas of an angler.
+
+"Would it be too late to fish after dinner?" ventured Dulcie. "I'd
+love to go with you----"
+
+"Would you, really!" he exclaimed, warmly grateful. "That is the
+spirit I admire in a girl! It's human, it's discriminating! And yet,
+do you know, nobody except myself in this household seems to care very
+much about angling? And, actually, I don't believe there is another
+soul in this entire house who would care to miss dinner for the sake
+of landing the finest trout in the second lake!--unless you would?"
+
+"I really would!" said Dulcie, smiling. "Please try me, Mr. Barres."
+
+"Indeed, I shall! I'll give you one of my pet rods, too! I'll----"
+
+The rich, metallic murmur of a temple gong broke out in the dim quiet
+of the house. It was the dressing bell.
+
+"We'll talk it over at dinner--if they'll let me sit by you,"
+whispered Barres senior. And with the smile and the cautionary gesture
+of the true conspirator, he went away in the demi-light.
+
+Thessalie came from the bay window, where she had been with Westmore
+and Garry, and she and Dulcie walked away toward the staircase hall,
+leisurely followed by the two men who, however, turned again into the
+western wing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was the first to reappear and descend the stairs of the north
+wing--a willowy white shape in the early dusk, slim as a young spirit
+in the lamplit silence.
+
+Nobody else had come down; a maid was turning up a lamp here and
+there; the plebeian family cat came out of the shadows from somewhere
+and made advances as though divining that this quiet stranger was a
+friend to cats.
+
+So Dulcie stooped to pet her, then wandered on through the place and
+finally into the music room, where she seated herself at the piano and
+touched the keys softly in the semi-dusk.
+
+Among the songs--words and music--which her mother had left in
+manuscript, was one which she had learned recently,--"Blue Eyes"--and
+she played the air now, seated there all alone in the subdued lamp
+light.
+
+Presently people began to appear from above--Mrs. Barres, who motioned
+her not to rise, and who seated herself near, watching the girl's
+slender fingers moving on the keys; then Lee, who came and stood
+beside her, followed in a few moments by Thessalie and the two younger
+men.
+
+"What is that lovely little air you are playing?" inquired Mrs.
+Barres.
+
+"It is called 'Blue Eyes,'" said Dulcie, absently.
+
+"I have never before heard it."
+
+The girl looked up:
+
+"No, my mother wrote it."
+
+After a silence:
+
+"It is really exquisite," said Mrs. Barres. "Are there words to it?"
+
+Some people had come into the entrance hall beyond; there was the low
+whirring of an automobile outside.
+
+"Yes, my mother made some verses for it," replied Dulcie.
+
+"Will you sing them for me after dinner?"
+
+"Yes, I shall be happy to."
+
+Mrs. Barres turned to welcome her new guests, now entering the music
+room convoyed by Barres senior, who was arrayed in the dreaded "stiff
+shirt" and already indulging in "table talk."
+
+"They took," he was explaining, "a midge-fly with no hackle--Claire,
+here are the Gerhardts and Mr. Skeel!" And while his wife welcomed
+them and introductions were effected, he continued explaining the
+construction of the midge to anybody who listened.
+
+At the first mention of Murtagh Skeel's name, the glances of Westmore,
+Garry and Thessalie crossed like lightning, then their attention
+became riveted on this tall, graceful, romantic looking man of early
+middle age, who was being lionised at Northbrook.
+
+The next moment Garry stepped back beside Dulcie Soane, who had turned
+white as a flower and was gazing at Skeel as though she had seen a
+ghost.
+
+"Do you suppose he can be the same man your mother knew?" he
+whispered, dropping his arm and taking her trembling hand in a firm
+clasp.
+
+"I don't know.... I seem to feel so.... I can't explain to you how it
+pierced my heart--the sound of his name.... Oh, Garry!--suppose it is
+true--that he is the man my mother knew--and cared for!"
+
+Before he could speak, cocktails were served, and Adolf Gerhardt, a
+large, bearded, pompous man, engaged him in explosive conversation:
+
+"Yes, this fellow Corot Mandel is producing a new spectacle-play on my
+lawn to-morrow evening. Your family and your guests are invited, of
+course. And for the dance, also----" He included Dulcie in a pompous
+bow, finished his cocktail with another flourish:
+
+"You will find my friend Skeel very attractive," he went on. "You know
+who he is?--_the_ Murtagh Skeel who writes those Irish poems of the
+West Coast--and is not, I believe, very well received in England just
+now--a matter of nationalism--patriotism, eh? Why should it surprise
+your Britisher, eh?--if a gentleman like Murtagh Skeel displays no
+sympathy for England?--if a gentleman like my friend, Sir Roger
+Casement, prefers to live in Germany?"
+
+Garry, under his own roof, said pleasantly:
+
+"It wouldn't do for us to discuss those things, I fear, Mr. Gerhardt.
+And your Irish lion seems to be very gentle and charming. He must be
+fascinating to women."
+
+Gerhardt threw up his hands:
+
+"Oh, Lord! They would like to eat him! Or be eaten by him! You know?
+It is that way always between the handsome poet and the sex. Which
+eats which is of no consequence, so long as they merge. Eh?" And his
+thunderous laughter set the empty glasses faintly ringing on the
+butler's silver tray.
+
+Garry spoke to Mrs. Gerhardt, a large, pallid, slabby German who might
+have been somebody's kitchen maid, but had been born a _von_.
+
+Later, as dinner was announced, he contrived to speak to Thessalie
+aside:
+
+"Gerhardt," he whispered, "doesn't recognise you, of course."
+
+"No; I'm not at all apprehensive."
+
+"Yet, it was on his yacht----"
+
+"He never even looked twice at me. You know what he thought me to be?
+Very well, he had only social ambitions then. I think that's all he
+has now. You see what he got with his Red Eagle," nodding calmly
+toward Mrs. Gerhardt, who now was being convoyed out by the monocled
+martyr in the "stiff shirt."
+
+The others passed out informally; Lee had slipped her arm around
+Dulcie. As Garry and Thessalie turned to follow, he said in a low
+voice:
+
+"You feel quite secure, then, Thessa?"
+
+She halted, put her lips close to his ear, unnoticed by those ahead:
+
+"Perfectly. The Gerhardts are what you call fatheads--easily used by
+anybody, dangerous to no one, governed by greed alone, without a
+knowledge of any honour except the German sort. But that Irish dreamer
+over there, _he_ is dangerous! That type always is. He menaces the
+success of any enterprise to which his quixotic mind turns, because it
+instantly becomes a fixed idea with him--an obsession, a monomania!"
+
+She took his arm and walked on beside him.
+
+"I know that fascinating, hot-headed, lovable type of mystic
+visionary," she said, "handsome, romantic, illogical, governed
+entirely by emotion, not fickle yet never to be depended on; not
+faithless, but absolutely irresponsible and utterly ignorant of
+fear!... My father was that sort. _Not_ the hunting cheetah Cyril and
+Ferez pretended. And it was in _defence_ of a woman that my father
+died.... Thank God!"
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"Captain Renoux--the other night."
+
+"I'm so glad, Thessa!"
+
+She held her flushed head high and smiled at him.
+
+"You see," she said, "after all it is in my blood to be decent."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Gerhardts, racially vulgar and socially blunt--for the inherent
+vulgarity of the Teutonic peoples is an axiom among the civilised--made
+themselves characteristically conspicuous at the flower-laden table;
+but it was on Murtagh Skeel that all eyes became ultimately focused to
+the limit of good-breeding. He was the lode-star--he was the magnet,
+the vanishing point for all curiosity, all surmises, all interest.
+
+Perfect breeding, perfect unconsciousness of self, were his minted
+marks to guarantee the fineness of his metal. He was natural without
+effort, winning in voice, in manner, in grace of mind and body, this
+fascinating Irishman of letters--a charming listener, a persuasive
+speaker, modest, light hearted, delightfully deferential.
+
+Seated on the right of Mrs. Barres, his smiling hostess very quickly
+understood the situation and made it pleasantly plain to everybody
+that her guest of honour was not to be privately monopolised.
+
+So almost immediately all currents of conversation flowed from all
+sides toward this dark-eyed, handsome man, and in return the
+silver-tongued tide of many currents--the Irish Sea at its sparkling
+flood--flowed prettily and spread out from its perennial source
+within him, and washed and rippled gently over every separate dinner
+plate, so that nobody seemed neglected, and there was jetsam and
+beach-combing for all.
+
+And it was inevitable, presently, that Murtagh Skeel's conversation
+should become autobiographical in some degree, and his careless,
+candid, persuasive phrases turn into little gemlike memories. For he
+came ultimately, of course, to speak of Irish nationalism and what it
+meant; of the Celt as he had been and must remain--utterly unchanged,
+as long as the last Celt remained alive on earth.
+
+The subject, naturally, invaded the fairy lore, wild legend and lovely
+mysticism of the West Coast; and centred about his own exquisite work
+of interpreting it.
+
+He spoke of it very modestly, as his source of inspiration, as the
+inception of his own creative work in that field. But always, through
+whatever he said, rang low and clear his passionate patriotism and the
+only motive which incited him to creative effort--his longing for
+national autonomy and the re-gathering of a scattered people in
+preparation for its massed journey toward its Destiny.
+
+His voice was musical, his words unconscious poetry. Without effort,
+without pains, alas!--without logic--he held every ear enthralled
+there in the soft candlelight and subdued glimmer of crystal and of
+silver.
+
+His was the magic of shadow and half-lights, of vague nuances and lost
+outlines, and the valued degrees of impinging shade. No sharp
+contours, no stark, uncompromising shapes, no brutality of raw
+daylight, and--alas!--no threat of uncompromising logic invaded his
+realm of dreamy demi-lights and faded fantasies.
+
+He reigned there, amid an enchanted twilight of his own creation, the
+embodiment of Irish romance, tender, gay, sweet-minded, persuasive,
+gallant--and tragic, when, at some unexpected moment, the frail veil
+of melancholy made his dark eyes less brilliant.
+
+All yielded to his charm--even the stuffed Teutons, gorging gravy; all
+felt his sway over mind and heart, nor cared to analyse it, there in
+the soft light of candles and the scent of old-fashioned flowers.
+
+There arose some question concerning Sir Roger Casement.
+
+Murtagh Skeel spoke of him with the pure enthusiasm of passionate
+belief in a master by a humble disciple. And the Teutons grunted
+assent.
+
+The subject of the war had been politely avoided, yet, somehow, it
+came out that Murtagh Skeel had served in Britain's army overseas, as
+an enlisted man in some Irish regiment--a romantic impulse of the
+moment, involving a young man's crazy plan to foment rebellion in
+India. Which little gem of a memoire presently made the fact of his
+exile self-explanatory. Yet, he contrived that the ugly revelation
+should end in laughter--an outbreak of spontaneous mirth through which
+his glittering wit passed like lightning, cauterising the running sore
+of treason....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Coffee served, the diners drifted whither it suited them, together or
+singly.
+
+Like an errant spirit, Dulcie moved about at hazard amid the softened
+lights, engaged here, approached there, pausing, wandering on, nowhere
+in particular, yet ever listlessly in motion.
+
+Encountering her near the porch, Barres senior had paused to
+whisper that there was no hope for any fishing that evening; and she
+had lingered to smile after him, as, unreconciled, he took his
+stiff-shirted way toward the pallid, bejewelled, unanimated mass of
+Mrs. Gerhardt, settled in the widest armchair and absorbing cordial.
+
+A moment later the girl encountered Garry. He remained with her for a
+while, evidently desiring to be near her without finding anything in
+particular to say. And when he, in turn, moved elsewhere, obeying some
+hazy mandate of hospitality, he became conscious of a reluctance to
+leave her.
+
+"Do you know, Sweetness," he said, lingering, "that you wear a
+delicate beauty to-night lovelier than I have ever seen in you? You
+are not only a wonderful girl, Dulcie; you are growing into an
+adorable woman."
+
+The girl looked back at him, blushing vividly in her sheer
+surprise--watched him saunter away out of her silent sphere of
+influence before she found any word to utter--if, indeed, she had been
+seeking any, so deeply, so painfully sweet had sunk his words into
+every fibre of her untried, defenceless youth.
+
+Now, as her cheeks cooled, and she came to herself and moved again,
+there seemed to grow around her a magic and faintly fragrant radiance
+through which she passed--whither, she paid no heed, so exquisitely
+her breast was thrilling under the hurrying pulses of her little
+heart.... And presently found herself on the piano bench, quite
+motionless, her gaze remote, her fingers resting on the keys.... And,
+after a long while, she heard an old air stealing through the
+silence, and her own voice,--_à demi-voix_--repeating her mother's
+words:
+
+      I
+
+  "Were they as wise as they are blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  They'd teach me not to trust in you!--
+  If they were wise as they are blue.
+
+  But they're as blithe as they are blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  They bid my heart rejoice in you,
+  Because they're blithe as well as blue.
+
+  Believe and love! my gay heart cries;
+  Believe him not! my mind replies;
+    What shall I do
+  When heart affirms and sense denies
+  All I reveal within my eyes
+    To you?
+
+      II
+
+  "If they were black instead of blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  Perhaps they'd prove unkind to you!
+  If they were black instead of blue.
+
+  But God designed them blithe and blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  Designed them to be kind to you,
+  And made them tender, gay and true.
+
+  Believe me, love, no maid is wise
+  When from the windows of her eyes,
+    Her heart looks through!
+  Alas! My heart, to its surprise,
+  Has learned to look; and now it sighs
+    For you!"
+
+She became conscious of somebody near, as she ended. She turned and
+saw Murtagh Skeel at her elbow--saw his agitated, ashen face--looked
+beyond him and discovered other people gathered in the tinted light
+beyond, listening; then she lifted her clear, still gaze again to the
+white-faced man beside her, and saw his shaken soul staring at her
+through the dark windows of _his_ eyes.
+
+"Where did you learn it?" he asked with a futile effort at that
+control so difficult for any Celt to grasp where the heart is
+involved.
+
+"The song I sang? 'Blue Eyes'?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes--that."
+
+"I have the manuscript of the composer."
+
+"Could you tell me where you got it--and--and who wrote those words
+you sang?"
+
+"The manuscript came to me from my mother.... She wrote it.... I think
+you knew her."
+
+His strong, handsome hand dropped on the piano's edge, gripped it; and
+under his pale skin the quick blood surged to his temples.
+
+"What was your--your mother's name, Miss Soane?"
+
+"She was Eileen Fane."
+
+The throbbing seconds passed and still they looked into each other's
+eyes in silence. And at last:
+
+"So you did know my mother," she said under her breath; and the hushed
+finality of her words set his strong hand trembling.
+
+"Eileen's little daughter," he repeated. "Eileen Fane's child.... And
+grown to womanhood.... Yes, I knew your mother--many years ago....
+When I enlisted and went abroad.... Was it Sir Terence Soane who
+married your mother?"
+
+She shook her head. He stared at her, striving to concentrate, to
+think. "There were other Soanes," he muttered, "the Ellet Water
+folk--no?----But there were many Soanes among the landed gentry in
+the East and North.... I cannot seem to recollect--the sudden
+shock--hearing a song unexpectedly----"
+
+His white forehead had grown damp under the curly hair now clinging to
+it. He passed his handkerchief over his brow in a confused way, then
+leaned heavily on the piano with both hands grasping it. For the ghost
+of his youth was interfering, disputing his control over his own mind,
+filling his ear with forgotten words, taking possession of his memory
+and tormenting it with the distant echoes of a voice long dead.
+
+Through the increasing chaos in his brain his strained gaze sought to
+fix itself on this living, breathing face before him--the child of
+Eileen Fane.
+
+He made the effort:
+
+"There were the Soanes of Colross----" But he got no farther that way,
+for the twin spectres of his youth and _hers_ were busy with his
+senses now; and he leaned more heavily on the piano, enduring with
+lowered head the ghostly whirlwind rushing up out of that obscurity
+and darkness where once, under summer skies, he had sowed a zephyr.
+
+The girl had become rather white, too. One slim hand still rested on
+the ivory keys, the other lay inert in her lap. And after a while she
+raised her grey eyes to this man standing beside her:
+
+"Did you ever hear of my mother's marriage?"
+
+He looked at her in a dull way:
+
+"No."
+
+"You heard--nothing?"
+
+"I heard that your mother had left Fane Court."
+
+"What was Fane Court?"
+
+Murtagh Skeel stared at her in silence.
+
+"I don't know," she said, trembling a little. "I know nothing about
+my mother. She died when I was a few months old."
+
+"Do you mean that you don't know who your mother was? You don't know
+who she married?" he asked, astounded.
+
+"No."
+
+"Good God!" he said, gazing at her. His tense features were working
+now; the battle for self-control was visible to her, and she sat there
+dumbly, looking on at the mute conflict which suddenly sent the tears
+flashing into his dark eyes and left his sensitive mouth twitching.
+
+"I shall not ask you anything now," he said unsteadily; "I shall have
+to see you somewhere else--where there are no people--to interrupt....
+But I shall tell you all I know about--your mother.... I was in
+trouble--in India. Somehow or other I heard indirectly that your
+mother had left Fane Court. Later it was understood that she had
+eloped.... Nobody could tell me the man's name.... My people in
+Ireland did not know.... And I was not on good terms with your
+grandfather. So there was no hope of information from Fane Court.... I
+wrote, indeed, begging, beseeching for news of your mother. Sir
+Barry--your grandfather--returned my letters unopened.... And that is
+all I have ever heard concerning Eileen Fane--your mother--with whom
+I--fell in love--nearly twenty years ago."
+
+Dulcie, marble pale, nodded.
+
+"I knew you cared for my mother," she said.
+
+"How did you learn it?"
+
+"Some letters of hers written to you. Letters from you to her. I have
+nothing else of hers except some verses and little songs--like the one
+you recognised."
+
+"Child, she wrote it as I sat beside her!----" His voice choked,
+broke, and his lips quivered as he fought for self-control again....
+"I was not welcome at Fane Court.... Sir Barry would not tolerate
+me.... Your mother was more kind.... She was very young. And so was I,
+Dulcie.... There were political troubles. I was always involved. God
+knows which was the stronger passion--it must have been love of
+country--the other seeming hopeless--with the folk at Fane Court my
+bitter enemies--only excepting your mother.... So I went away.... And
+which of the Soanes your mother eloped with I have never learned....
+Now, tell me--for you surely know that much."
+
+She said:
+
+"There is a man called Soane who tells me sometimes that he was once a
+gamekeeper at what he calls 'the big house.' I have always supposed
+him to be my father until within the last year. But recently, when he
+has been drinking heavily, he sometimes tells me that my name is not
+Soane but Fane.... Did you ever know of such a man?"
+
+"No. There were gamekeepers about.... No. I cannot recall--and it is
+impossible! A gamekeeper! And your _mother_! The man is mad! What in
+God's name does all this mean!----"
+
+He began to tremble, and his white forehead under the clustering curls
+grew damp and pinched again.
+
+"If you are Eileen's daughter----" But his face went dead white and he
+got no further.
+
+People were approaching from behind them, too; voices grew distinct in
+conversation; somebody turned up another lamp.
+
+"Do sing that little song again--the one you sang for Mr. Skeel," said
+Lee Barres, coming up to the piano on her brother's arm. "Mrs.
+Gerhardt has been waiting very patiently for an opportunity to ask
+you."
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+A SILENT HOUSE
+
+
+The guests from Hohenlinden had departed from Foreland Farms; the
+family had retired. Outside, under a sparkling galaxy of summer stars,
+tall trees stood unstirring; indoors nothing stirred except the family
+cat, darkly prowling on velvet-shod feet in eternal search of those
+viewless things which are manifest only to the feline race--sorcerers
+all, whether quadruped or human.
+
+In various bedrooms upstairs lights went out, one after another, until
+only two windows remained illuminated, one in the west wing, one in
+the north.
+
+For Dulcie, in her negligée and night robe, still sat by the open
+window, chin resting on palm, her haunted gaze remotely lost somewhere
+beyond the July stars.
+
+And, in his room, Garry had arrived only as far as removing coat and
+waistcoat in the process of disrobing for the night. For his mind was
+still deeply preoccupied with Dulcie Soane and with the strange
+expression of her face at the piano--and with the profoundly altered
+visage of Murtagh Skeel.
+
+And he was asking himself what could have happened between those two
+in such a few minutes there at the piano in the music-room. For it was
+evident to him that Skeel was labouring under poorly controlled
+emotion, was dazed by it, and was recovering self-possession only by a
+mighty effort.
+
+And when Skeel had finally taken his leave and had gone away with the
+Gerhardts, he suddenly stopped on the porch, returned to the
+music-room, and, bending down, had kissed Dulcie's hand with a grace
+and reverence which made the salute more of a serious ceremony than
+the impulsive homage of a romantic poet's whim.
+
+Considered by itself, the abrupt return and quaintly perfect salute
+might have been taken as a spontaneous effervescence of that
+delightful Celtic gallantry so easily stirred to ebullition by youth
+and beauty. And for that it was accepted by the others after Murtagh
+Skeel was gone; and everybody ventured to chaff Dulcie a little about
+her conquest--merely the gentle humour of gentlefolk--a harmless word
+or two, a smile in sympathy.
+
+Garry alone saw in the girl's smile no genuine response to the light
+badinage, and he knew that her serenity was troubled, her careless
+composure forced.
+
+Later, he contrived to say good-night to her alone, and gave her a
+chance to speak; but she only murmured her adieux and went slowly away
+up the stairs with Thessalie, not looking back.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, sitting there in his dressing-gown, briar pipe alight, he frowned
+and pondered over the matter in the light of what he already knew of
+Dulcie, of the dead mother who bore her, of the grotesquely impossible
+Soane, of this man, Murtagh Skeel.
+
+What had he and Dulcie found in common to converse about so earnestly
+and so long there in the music-room? What had they talked about to
+drive the colour from Dulcie's cheeks and alter Skeel's countenance so
+that he had looked more like his own wraith than his living self?
+
+That Dulcie's mother had known this man, had once, evidently, been in
+love with him more or less, doubtless was revealed in their
+conversation at the piano. Had Skeel enlightened Dulcie any further?
+And on what subject? Soane? Her mother? Her origin--in case the child
+had admitted ignorance of it? Was Dulcie, now, in possession of new
+facts concerning herself? Were they agreeable facts? Were they
+depressing? Had she learned anything definite in regard to her birth?
+Her parentage? Did she know, now, who was her real father? Was the
+obvious absurdity of Soane finally exploded? Had she learned what the
+drunken Soane meant by asserting that her name was not Soane but
+Fane?
+
+His pipe burned out and he laid it aside, but did not rise to resume
+his preparation for bed.
+
+Then, somewhere from the unlighted depths of the house came the sound
+of the telephone bell--at that hour of night always a slightly ominous
+sound.
+
+He got up and went down stairs, not troubling to switch on any light,
+for the lustre of the starry night outside silvered every window and
+made it possible for him to see his way.
+
+At the clamouring telephone, finally, he unhooked the receiver:
+
+"Hello?" he said. "Yes! Yes! Oh, is that _you_, Renoux? Where on earth
+are you?... At Northbrook?... Where?... At the Summit House? Well, why
+didn't you come here to us?... Oh!... No, it isn't very late. We
+retire early at Foreland.... Oh, yes, I'm dressed.... Certainly....
+Yes, come over.... Yes!... _Yes_!... I'll wait for you in the
+library.... In an hour?... You bet. No, I'm not sleepy.... Sure
+thing!... Come on!"
+
+He hung up the receiver, turned, and made his way through the dusk
+toward the library which was opposite the music-room across the big
+entrance hall.
+
+Before he turned on any light he paused to look out at the splendour
+of the stars. The night had grown warmer; there was no haze, now, only
+an argentine clarity in which shadowy trees stood mysterious and
+motionless and the dim lawn stretched away to the distant avenue and
+wall, lost against their looming border foliage.
+
+Once he thought he heard a slight sound somewhere in the house behind
+him, but presently remembered that the family cat held sway among the
+mice at such an hour.
+
+A little later he turned from the window to light a lamp, and found
+himself facing a slim, white figure in the starry dusk.
+
+"Dulcie!" he exclaimed under his breath.
+
+"I want to talk to you."
+
+"Why on earth are you wandering about at this hour?" he asked. "You
+made me jump, I can tell you."
+
+"I was awake--not in bed yet. I heard the telephone. Then I went out
+into the west corridor and saw you going down stairs.... Is it all
+right for me to sit here in my night dress with you?"
+
+He smiled:
+
+"Well, considering----"
+
+"Of course!" she said hastily, "only I didn't know whether outside
+your studio----"
+
+"Oh, Dulcie, you're becoming self-conscious! Stop it, Sweetness. Don't
+spoil things. Here--tuck yourself into this big armchair!--curl up!
+There you are. And here I am----" dropping into another wide, deep
+chair. "Lord! but you're a pretty thing, Dulcie, with your hair down
+and all glimmering with starlight! We'll try painting you that way
+some day--I wouldn't know how to go about it offhand, either. Maybe a
+screened arc-lamp in a dark partition, and a peep-hole--I don't
+know----"
+
+He lay back in his chair, studying her, and she watched him in silence
+for a while. Presently she sighed, stirred, placed her feet on the
+floor as though preparing to rise. And he came out of his impersonal
+abstraction:
+
+"What is it you want to say, Sweetness?"
+
+"Another time," she murmured. "I don't----"
+
+"You dear child, you came to me needing the intimacy of our
+comradeship--perhaps its sympathy. My mind was wandering--you are so
+lovely in the starlight. But you ought to know where my heart is."
+
+"Is it open--a little?"
+
+"Knock and see, Sweetness."
+
+"Well, then, I came to ask you--Mr. Skeel is coming to-morrow--to see
+me--alone. Could it be contrived--without offending?"
+
+"I suppose it could.... Yes, of course.... Only it will be conspicuous.
+You see, Mr. Skeel is much sought after in certain circles--beginning to
+be pursued and----"
+
+"He asked me."
+
+"Dear, it's quite all right----"
+
+"Let me tell you, please.... He _did_ know my mother."
+
+"I supposed so."
+
+"Yes. He was the man. I want you to know what he told me.... I always
+wish you to know everything that is in my--mind--always, for ever."
+
+She leaned forward in her chair, her pretty, bare feet extended. One
+silken sleeve of her negligée had fallen to the shoulder, revealing
+the perfect symmetry of her arm. But he put from his mind the ever
+latent artistic delight in her, closed his painter's eye to her
+protean possibilities, and resolutely concentrated his mental forces
+upon what she was now saying:
+
+"He turns out to be the same man my mother wrote to--and who wrote to
+her.... They were in love, then. He didn't say why he went away,
+except that my mother's family disliked him.... She lived at a house
+called Fane Court.... He spoke of my mother's father as Sir Barry
+Fane...."
+
+"That doesn't surprise me, Sweetness."
+
+"Did _you_ know?"
+
+"Nothing definite." He looked at the lovely, slender-limbed girl there
+in the starry dusk. "I knew nothing definite," he repeated, "but there
+was no mistaking the metal from which you had been made--or the mould,
+either. And as for Soane----" he smiled.
+
+She said:
+
+"If my name is really Fane, there can be only one conclusion; some
+kinsman of that name must have married my mother."
+
+He said:
+
+"Of course," very gravely.
+
+"Then who was he? My mother never mentioned him in her letters. What
+became of him? He must have been my father. Is he living?"
+
+"Did you ask Mr. Skeel?"
+
+"Yes. He seemed too deeply affected to answer me. He must have loved
+my mother very dearly to show such emotion before me."
+
+"What did you ask him, Dulcie?"
+
+"After we left the piano?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I asked him that. I had only a few more moments alone with him before
+he left. I asked him about my mother--to tell me how she looked--so I
+could think of her more clearly. He has a picture of her on ivory. He
+is to bring it to me and tell me more about her. That is why I must
+see him to-morrow--so I may ask him again about my father."
+
+"Yes, dear...." He sat very silent for a while, then rose, came over,
+and seated himself on the padded arm of Dulcie's chair, and took both
+her hands into his:
+
+"Listen, Sweetness. You are what you are to me--my dear comrade, my
+faithful partner sharing our pretty partnership in art; and, more than
+these, Dulcie, you are my friend.... Never doubt that. Never forget
+it. Nothing can alter it--nothing you learn about your origin can
+exalt that friendship.... Nothing lessen it. Do you understand?
+_Nothing_ can _lessen_ it, save only if you prove untrue to what you
+are--your real self."
+
+She had rested her cheek against his arm while he was speaking. It lay
+there now, pressed closer.
+
+"As for Murtagh Skeel," he said, "he is a charming, cultivated,
+fascinating man. But if he attempts to carry out his agitator's
+schemes and his revolutionary propaganda in this country, he is headed
+for most serious trouble."
+
+"Why does he?"
+
+"Don't ask me why men of his education and character do such things.
+They do; that's all I know. Sir Roger Casement is another man not
+unlike Skeel. There are many, hot-hearted, generous, brave,
+irrational. There is no use blaming them--no justice in it, either.
+The history of British rule in Ireland is a matter of record.
+
+"But, Dulcie, he who strikes at England to-day strikes at civilisation,
+at liberty, at God! This is no time to settle old grievances. And to
+attempt to do it by violence, by propaganda--to attempt a reckoning of
+ancient wrongs in any way, to-day, is a crime--the crime of treachery
+against Christ's teachings--of treason against Lord Christ Himself!"
+
+After a long interval:
+
+"You are going to this war quite soon. Mr. Westmore said so."
+
+"I am going--with my country or without it."
+
+"When?"
+
+"When I finally lose patience and self-respect.... I don't know
+exactly when, but it will be pretty soon."
+
+"Could I go with you?"
+
+"Do you wish to?"
+
+She pressed her cheek against his arm in silence.
+
+He said:
+
+"That has troubled me a lot, Dulcie. Of course you could stay here; I
+can arrange--I had come to a conclusion in regard to financial
+matters----"
+
+"I can't," she whispered.
+
+"Can't what?"
+
+"Stay here--take anything from you--accept without service in
+return."
+
+"What would you do?"
+
+"I wouldn't care--if you--leave me here alone."
+
+"But, Dulcie----"
+
+"I know. You said it this evening. There will come a time when you
+would not find it convenient to have me--around----"
+
+"Dear, it's only because a man and a woman in this world cannot
+continue anything of enduring intimacy without business as an excuse.
+And even then, the pleasant informality existing now could not be
+continued with anything except very serious disadvantage to you."
+
+"You will grow tired of painting me," she said under her breath.
+
+"No. But your life is all before you, Dulcie. Girls usually marry
+sooner or later."
+
+"Men do too."
+
+"That's not what I meant----"
+
+"You will marry," she whispered.
+
+Again, at her words, the same odd uneasiness began to possess him as
+though something obscure, unformulated as yet, must some day be
+cleared up by him and decided.
+
+"Don't leave me--yet," she said.
+
+"I couldn't take you with me to France."
+
+"Let me enlist for service. Could you be patient for a few months so
+that I might learn something--anything!--I don't care what, if only I
+can go with you? Don't they require women to scrub and do unpleasant
+things--humble, unclean, necessary things?"
+
+"You couldn't--with your slender youth and delicate beauty----"
+
+"Oh," she whispered, "you don't know what I could do to be near you!
+That is all I want--all I want in the world!--just to be somewhere not
+too far away. I couldn't stand it, now, if you left me.... I couldn't
+live----"
+
+"Dulcie!"
+
+But, suddenly, it was a hot-faced, passionate, sobbing child who was
+clinging desperately to his arm and staunching her tears against
+it--saying nothing more, merely clinging close with quivering lips.
+
+"Listen," he said impulsively. "I'll give you time. If there's
+anything you can learn that will admit you to France, come back to
+town with me and learn it.... Because I don't want to leave you,
+either.... There ought to be some way--some way----" He checked
+himself abruptly, stared at the bowed head under its torrent of
+splendid hair--at the desperate white little hands holding so fast to
+his sleeve, at the slender body gathered there in the deep chair, and
+all aquiver now.
+
+"We'll go--together," he said unsteadily.... "I'll do what I can; I
+promise.... You must go upstairs to bed, now.... Dulcie!... dear
+girl...."
+
+She released his arm, tried to get up from her chair obediently,
+blinded by tears and groping in the starlight.
+
+"Let me guide you----" His voice was strained, his touch feverish and
+unsteady, and the convulsive closing of her fingers over his seemed to
+burn to his very bones.
+
+At the stairs she tried to speak, thanking him, asking pardon for her
+tears, her loss of self-command, penitent, afraid that she had lowered
+herself, strained his friendship--troubled him----
+
+"No. I--_want_ you," he said in an odd, indistinct, hesitating voice....
+"Things must be cleared up--matters concerning us--affairs----" he
+muttered.
+
+She closed her eyes a moment and rested both hands on the banisters as
+though fatigued, then she looked down at him where he stood watching
+her:
+
+"If you had rather go without me--if it is better for you--less
+troublesome----"
+
+"I've told you," he said in a dull voice, "I want you. You must fit
+yourself to go."
+
+"You are so kind to me--so wonderful----"
+
+He merely stared at her; she turned almost wearily to resume her
+ascent.
+
+"Dulcie!"
+
+She had reached the landing above. She bent over, looking down at him
+in the dusk.
+
+"Did you understand?"
+
+"I--yes, I think so."
+
+"That I _want_ you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is true. I want you always. I'm just beginning to understand that
+myself. Please don't ever forget what I say to you now, Dulcie; I want
+you. I shall always want you. Always! As long as I live."
+
+She leaned heavily on the newel-post above, looking down.
+
+He could not see that her eyes were closed, that her lips moved in
+voiceless answer. She was only a vague white shape there in the dusk
+above him--a mystery which seemed to have been suddenly born out of
+some poignant confusion of his own mind.
+
+He saw her turn, fade into the darkness. And he stood there, not
+moving, aware of the chaos within him, of shapeless questions being
+evolved out of this profound disturbance--of an inner consciousness
+groping with these questions--questions involving other questions and
+menacing him with the necessity of decision.
+
+After a while, too, he became conscious of his own voice sounding
+there in the darkness:
+
+"I am very near to love.... I have been close to it.... It would be
+very easy to fall in love to-night.... But I am wondering--about
+to-morrow.... And afterward.... But I have been very near--very near
+to love, to-night...."
+
+The front doorbell rang through the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+STARLIGHT
+
+
+When Barres opened the front door he saw Renoux standing there in the
+shadow of the porch, silhouetted against the starlight. They exchanged
+a silent grip; Renoux stepped inside; Barres closed the front door.
+
+"Shall I light up?" he asked in a low voice.
+
+"No. There are complications. I've been followed, I think. Take me
+somewhere near a window which commands the driveway out there. I'd
+like to keep my eye on it while we are talking."
+
+"Come on," said Barres, under his breath. He guided Renoux through the
+shadowy entrance hall to the library, moved two padded armchairs to
+the window facing the main drive, motioned Renoux to seat himself.
+
+"When did you arrive?" he asked in a cautious voice.
+
+"This morning."
+
+"What! You got here before we did!"
+
+"Yes. I followed Souchez and Alost. Do you know who _they_ were
+following?"
+
+"No."
+
+"One of your guests at dinner this evening."
+
+"Skeel!"
+
+Renoux nodded:
+
+"Yes. You saw them start for the train. Skeel was on the train. But
+the conference at your studio delayed me. So I came up by automobile
+last night."
+
+"And you've been here all day?"
+
+Renoux nodded, but his keen eyes were fixed on the drive, shining
+silver-grey in the starlight. And his gaze continually reverted to it
+while he continued speaking:
+
+"My friend, things are happening. Let me first tell you what is the
+situation. Over this entire hemisphere German spies are busy, German
+intrigue and propaganda are being accelerated, treason is spreading
+from a thousand foci of infection.
+
+"In South America matters are very serious. A revolution is being
+planned by the half million Germans in Brazil; the neutrality of
+Argentine is being most grossly violated and Count Luxburg, the boche
+Ambassador, is already tampering with Chile and other Southern
+Republics.
+
+"Of course, the Mexican trouble is due to German intrigue which is
+trying desperately to involve that Republic and yours and also drag in
+Japan.
+
+"In Honolulu the German cruiser which your Government has interned is
+sending out wireless information while her band plays to drown the
+crackle of the instrument.
+
+"And from the Golden Gate to the Delaware capes, and from the Soo to
+the Gulf, the spies of Germany swarm in your great Republic, planning
+your destruction in anticipation of the war which will surely come."
+
+Barres reddened in the darkness and his heart beat more rapidly:
+
+"You think it really will come?"
+
+"War with Germany? My friend, I am certain of it. Your Government
+may not be certain. It is, if you permit a foreigner to say
+so--an--unusual Administration.... In this way, for example: it is
+cognisant of almost everything treasonable that is happening; it
+maintains agents in close contact with every mischief-hatching
+German diplomat in this hemisphere; it even has agents in the German
+Embassies--agents unsuspected, who daily rub elbows with German
+Ambassadors themselves!
+
+"It knows what Luxburg is doing; it is informed every day concerning
+Bernstorff's dirty activities; the details of the Mexican and Japanese
+affairs are familiar to Mr. Lansing; all that happens aboard the
+_Geier_, the interned German liners--all that occurs in German
+consulates, commercial offices, business houses, clubs, cafés,
+saloons, is no secret to your Government.
+
+"Yet, nothing has been done, nothing is being done except to continue
+to collect data of the most monstrous and stupendous conspiracy that
+ever threatened a free nation! I repeat that nothing is being done; no
+preparation is being made to face the hurricane which has been looming
+for two years and more, growing ever blacker over your horizon. All
+the world can see the lightning playing behind those storm clouds.
+
+"And, my God!--not an umbrella! Not an order for overshoes and
+raincoats!... I am not, perhaps, in error when I suggest that the
+Administration is an--unusual one."
+
+Barres nodded slowly.
+
+Renoux said:
+
+"I am sorry. The reckoning will be heavy."
+
+"I know."
+
+"Yes, you know. Your great politician, Mr. Roosevelt, knows; your
+great Admiral, Mahan, knew; your great General, Wood, knows. Also,
+perhaps some million or more sane, clear thinking American citizens
+know." He made a hopeless gesture. "It is a pity, Barres, my
+friend.... Well--it is, of course, the affair of your people to
+decide.... We French can only wait.... But we have never doubted your
+ultimate decision.... Lafayette did not live in vain. Yorktown was not
+merely a battle. Your Washington lighted a torch for your people and
+for ours to hold aloft eternally. Even the rain of blood drenching our
+Revolution could not extinguish it. It still burned at Gravelotte, at
+Metz, at Sedan. It burned above the smoke and dust of the Commune. It
+burned at the Marne. It still burns, mon ami."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Alors----" He sat silent for a few moments, his gaze intent on the
+starry obscurity outdoors. Then, slow and pleasantly:
+
+"The particular mess, the cooking of which interests my Government,
+the English Government, and yours, is now on the point of boiling
+over. It's this Irish stew I speak of. Poor devils--they must be
+crazy, every one of them, to do what they are already beginning to
+do.... You remember the papers which you secured?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, what we did last night at Grogan's has prematurely dumped the
+fat into the fire. They know they've been robbed; they know that their
+plans are in our hands. Do you suppose that stops them? No! On the
+contrary, they are at this very moment attempting, as you say in New
+York, to beat us to it."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"This way: the signal for an Irish attempt on Canada is to be the
+destruction of the Welland Canal. You remember the German suggestion
+that an ore steamer be seized? They're going to try it. And if that
+fails, they're to take their power boat into the canal anyway and blow
+up a lock, even if they blow up themselves with it. Did you ever hear
+of such madness? Mon dieu, if only we had those men under your flag
+on our western front!"
+
+"Do you know who these men are?" asked Barres.
+
+"Your dinner guest--Murtagh Skeel--leads this company of Death."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Now! To-morrow! That's why I'm here! That's why your Secret Service
+men are arriving. I tell you the mess is on the point of boiling over.
+The crew is already on its way to take over the launch. They're
+travelling west singly, by separate trains and routes."
+
+"Do you know who they are--these madmen?"
+
+"Here is the list--don't strike a light! I can recall their names, I
+think--some of them anyway----"
+
+"Are any of them Germans?"
+
+"Not one. Your German doesn't blow himself up with anything but beer.
+Not he! No; he lights a fuse and legs it! I don't say he's a coward.
+But self-immolation for abstract principle isn't in him. There have
+been instances resembling it at sea--probably not genuine--not like
+that poor sergeant of ours in 1870, who went into the citadel at Laon
+and shoved a torch into the bin of loose powder under the magazine....
+Because the city had surrendered. And Paris was not many miles
+away.... So he blew himself up with citadel, magazine, all the
+Prussians in the neighbourhood, and most of the town.... Well--these
+Irish are planning something of that sort on the Welland Canal....
+Murtagh Skeel leads them. The others I remember are Madigan, Cassidy,
+Dolan, McBride--and that fellow Soane!----"
+
+"Is _he_ one of them?"
+
+"He surely is. He went west on the same train that brought Skeel here.
+And now I'll tell you what has been done and why I'm here.
+
+"We haven't located the power-boat on the lake. But the Canadians are
+watching for it and your agents are following these Irishmen. When the
+crew assembles they are to be arrested and their power-boat and
+explosives seized.
+
+"I and my men have no official standing here, of course--would not be
+tolerated in any co-operation, _officially_. But we have a certain
+understanding with certain authorities."
+
+Barres nodded.
+
+"You see? Very well. Then, with delicacy and discretion, we keep in
+touch with Mr. Skeel.... And with other people.... You see?... He is
+abed in the large house of Mr. Gerhardt over yonder at Northbrook....
+Under surveillance.... He moves? We move--very discreetly. You see?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Very well, then. But I am obliged to tell you, also, that the hunting
+is not done entirely by our side. No! In turn, I and my men, and also
+your agents, are being hunted by German agents.... It is that which
+annoys and hampers us, because these German agents continually dog us
+and give the alarm to these Irishmen. You see?"
+
+"Who are the German agents? Do you know?"
+
+"Very well indeed. Bernstorff is the head; Von Papen and Boy-ed come
+next. Under them serve certain so-called 'Diplomatic Agents of Class
+No. 1'--Adolf Gerhardt is one of them; his partners, Otto Klein and
+Joseph Schwartzmeyer are two others.
+
+"They, in turn, have under them diplomatic agents of the second
+class--men such as Ferez Bey, Franz Lehr, called _K17_. You see? Then,
+lower still in the scale, come the spies who actually investigate
+under orders; men like Dave Sendelbeck, Johnny Klein, Louis
+Hochstein, Max Freund. And, then, lowest of all in rank are the rank
+and file--the secret 'shock-troops' who carry out desperate
+enterprises under some leader. Among the Germans these are the men who
+sneak about setting fires, lighting the fuses of bombs, scuttling
+ships, defacing Government placards, poisoning Red Cross bandages to
+be sent to the Allies--that sort. But among them are no battalions of
+Death. _Non pas!_ And, for that, you see, they use these Irish. You
+understand now?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"Well, then! I trust you absolutely, Barres. And so I came over to ask
+you--and your clever friends, Mademoiselle Dunois, Miss Soane, Mr.
+Westmore, to keep their eyes on this man Skeel to-morrow afternoon and
+also to-morrow evening. Because they will be guests at the Gerhardts'.
+Is it not so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, your Government's agents will be there. They will also be in
+the neighbourhood, watching roads and railway stations. I have one man
+in service with the Gerhardts--their head chauffeur. If anything
+happens--if Skeel tries to slip away--if you miss him--I would be very
+grateful if you and your friends notify the head chauffeur, Menard."
+
+"We'll try to do it."
+
+"That's all I want. Just get word to Menard that Skeel seems to be
+missing. That will be sufficient. Will you say this to your friends?"
+
+"Yes, I will, Renoux. I'll be glad to. I'll be particularly happy to
+offer to Miss Dunois this proof of your confidence in her integrity."
+
+Renoux looked very grave.
+
+"For me," he said, "Miss Dunois is what she pretends to be. I
+have so informed my Government at home and its representatives at
+Washington."
+
+"Have you heard anything yet?"
+
+"Yes, a telegram in cipher from Washington late this afternoon."
+
+"Favourable to her?"
+
+"Yes. Our Ambassador is taking up immediately the clues Miss Dunois
+furnished me last night. Also, he has cabled at length to my home
+Government. At this hour, no doubt, d'Eblis, Bolo, probably an
+ex-minister or two, are being watched. And in this country your
+Government is now in possession of facts which must suggest a very
+close surveillance of the activities of Ferez Bey."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+Renoux shook his head:
+
+"He _was_ in New York. But he gave us the slip. An eel!" he added,
+rising. "Oh, we shall pick up his slimy traces again in time. But it
+is mortifying.... Well, thank you, mon ami. I must go." And he started
+toward the hall.
+
+"Have you a car anywhere?" asked Barres.
+
+"Yes, up the road a bit." He glanced through the sidelight of the
+front door, carelessly. "A couple of men out yonder dodging about.
+Have you noticed them, Barres?"
+
+"No! Where?"
+
+"They're out there in the shadow of your wall. I imagined that I'd be
+followed." He smiled and opened the front door.
+
+"Wait!" whispered Barres. "You are not going out there alone, are
+you?"
+
+"Certainly. There's no danger."
+
+"Well, I don't like it, Renoux. I'll walk as far as your car----"
+
+"Don't trouble! I have no personal apprehension----"
+
+"All the same," muttered the other, continuing on down the front steps
+beside his comrade.
+
+Renoux shrugged good-humouredly his disapproval of such precaution,
+but made no further protest. Nobody was visible anywhere on the
+grounds. The big iron gates were still locked, but the wicket was
+open. Through this they stepped out onto the macadam.
+
+A little farther along stood a touring car with two men in it.
+
+"You see?" began Renoux--when his words were cut by the crack of a
+pistol, and the red tail-light of the car crashed into splinters and
+went dark.
+
+"Well, by God!" remarked Renoux calmly, looking at the woods across
+the road and leisurely producing an automatic pistol.
+
+Then, from deeper in the thicket, two bright flames stabbed the
+darkness and the crash of the shots re-echoed among the trees.
+
+Both men in the touring car instantly turned loose their pistols;
+Renoux said, in a voice at once perplexed and amused:
+
+"Go home, Barres. I don't want people to know you are out here....
+I'll see you again soon."
+
+"Isn't there anything----"
+
+"Nothing. Please--you would oblige me by keeping clear of this if you
+really desire to help me."
+
+There were no more shots. Renoux stepped leisurely into the tonneau.
+
+"Well, what the devil do you gentlemen make of this?" Barres heard him
+say in his cool, humorous voice. "It really looks as though the boches
+were getting nervous."
+
+The car started. Barres could see Renoux and another man sitting with
+pistols levelled as the car glided along the fringe of woods. But
+there were no more shots on either side, and, after the car had
+disappeared, Barres turned and retraced his way.
+
+Then, as he entered his own gate by the side wicket, and turned to
+lock it with his own key, an electric torch flashed in his face,
+blinding him.
+
+"Let him have it!" muttered somebody behind the dazzling light.
+
+"That's not one of them!" said another voice distinctly. "Look out
+what you're doing! Douse your glim!"
+
+Instantly the fierce glare faded to a cinder. Barres heard running
+feet on the macadam, the crash of shrubbery opposite. But he could see
+nobody; and presently the footsteps in the woods were no longer
+audible.
+
+There seemed to be nothing for him to do in the matter. He lingered by
+the wicket for a while, peering into the night, listening. He saw
+nothing; heard nothing more that night.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+'BE-N EIRINN I!
+
+
+Barres senior rose with the sun. Also with determination, which took
+the form of a note slipped under his wife's door as he was leaving the
+house:
+
+  "DARLING:
+
+  "I lost last night's fishing and I'm hanged if I lose it to-night!
+  So don't ask me to fritter away a perfectly good evening at the
+  Gerhardt's party, because the sun is up; I'm off to the woods; and
+  I shall remain there until the last trout breaks.
+
+  "Tell the little Soane girl that I left a rod for her in the
+  work-room, if she cares to join me at the second lake. Garry can
+  bring her over and leave her if he doesn't wish to fish. Don't
+  send a man over with a lot of food and shawls. I've a creel full
+  of provisions, and I am sufficiently clad, and I hate to be
+  disturbed and I am never grateful to people who try to be good to
+  me. However, I love you very dearly.
+
+  "Your husband,
+
+  "REGINALD BARRES."
+
+At half past seven trays were sent to Mrs. Barres and to Lee; and at
+eight-thirty they were in the saddle and their horses fetlock deep in
+morning dew.
+
+Dulcie, sipping her chocolate in bed, marked their departure with
+sleepy eyes. For the emotions of the night before had told on her, and
+when a maid came to remove the tray she settled down among her
+pillows again, blinking unresponsively at the invitation of the sun,
+which cast over her a fairy net of gold.
+
+Thessalie, in negligée, came in later and sat down on the edge of her
+bed.
+
+"You sleepy little thing," she said, "the men have breakfasted and are
+waiting for us on the tennis court."
+
+"I don't know how to play," said Dulcie. "I don't know how to do
+anything."
+
+"You soon will, if you get up, you sweet little lazy-bones!"
+
+"Do you think I'll ever learn to play tennis and golf and to ride?"
+inquired Dulcie. "You know how to do everything so well, Thessa."
+
+"Dear child, it's all locked up in you--the ability to do everything--be
+anything! The only difference between us is that I had the chance to
+try."
+
+"But I can't even stand on my head," said Dulcie wistfully.
+
+"Did you ever try?"
+
+"N-no."
+
+"It's easy. Do you want to see me do it?"
+
+"Oh, please, Thessa!"
+
+So Thessalie, calmly smiling, rose, cast herself lightly upon her
+hands, straightened her lithe figure leisurely, until, amid a cataract
+of tumbling silk and chiffon, her rose silk slippers pointed toward
+the ceiling. Then, always with graceful deliberation, she brought her
+feet to the floor, forming an arc with her body; held it a moment, and
+slowly rose upright, her flushed face half-buried in her loosened
+hair.
+
+Dulcie, in raptures, climbed out of bed and insisted on immediate
+instruction. Down on the tennis court, Garry and Westmore heard their
+peals of laughter and came across the lawn under the window to
+remonstrate.
+
+"Aren't you ever going to get dressed!" called up Westmore. "If you're
+going to play doubles with us you'd better get busy, because it's
+going to be a hot day!"
+
+So Thessalie went away to dress and Dulcie tiptoed into her bath,
+which the maid had already drawn.
+
+But it was an hour before they appeared on the lawn, cool and fresh in
+their white skirts and shoes, and found Westmore and Barres, red and
+drenched, hammering each other across the net in their second furious
+set.
+
+So Dulcie took her first lesson under Garry's auspices; and she took
+to it naturally, her instinct being sound, but her technique as
+charmingly awkward as a young bird's in its first essay at flying.
+
+To see her all in white, with sleeves tucked up, throat bare, and the
+sun brilliant on her ruddy, rippling hair, produced a curious
+impression on Barres. As far as the East is from the West, so far was
+this Dulcie of the tennis court separated from the wistful, shabby
+child behind the desk at Dragon Court.
+
+Could they possibly be the same--this lithe, fresh, laughing girl,
+with white feet flashing and snowy skirts awhirl?--and the pale,
+grey-eyed slip of a thing that had come one day to his threshold with
+a faltering request for admittance to that wonderland wherein dwelt
+only such as he?
+
+Now, those grey eyes had turned violet, tinged with the beauty of the
+open sky; the loosened hair had become a net entangling the very
+sunlight; and the frail body, now but one smooth, soft symmetry,
+seemed fairly lustrous with the shining soul it masked within it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She came over to the net, breathless, laughing, to shake hands with
+her victorious opponents.
+
+"I'm so sorry, Garry," she said, turning penitently to him, "but I
+need such a lot of help in the world before I'm worth anything to
+anybody."
+
+"You're all right as you are. You always have been all right," he said
+in a low voice. "You never were worth less than you are worth now;
+you'll never be worth more than you are worth to me at this moment."
+
+They were walking slowly across the lawn toward the northern veranda.
+She halted a moment on the grass and cast a questioning glance at
+him:
+
+"Doesn't it please you to have me learn things?"
+
+"You always please me."
+
+"I'm so glad.... I try.... But don't you think you'd like me better if
+I were not so ignorant?"
+
+He looked at her absently, shook his head:
+
+"No ... I couldn't like you better.... I couldn't care more--for any
+girl--than I care for you.... Did you suspect that, Dulcie?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, it's true."
+
+They moved slowly forward across the grass--he distrait, his handsome
+head lowered, swinging his tennis-bat as he walked; she very still and
+lithe and slender, moving beside him with lowered eyes fixed on their
+mingled shadows on the grass.
+
+"When are you to see Mr. Skeel?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"This afternoon.... He asked if he might hope to find me alone.... I
+didn't know exactly what to say. So I told him about the rose
+arbour.... He said he would pay his respects to your mother and sister
+and then ask their permission to see me there alone."
+
+They came to the veranda; Dulcie seated herself on the steps and he
+remained standing on the grass in front of her.
+
+"Remember," he said quietly, "that I can never care less for you than
+I do at this moment.... Don't forget what I say, Dulcie."
+
+She looked up at him, happy, wondering, even perhaps a little
+apprehensive in her uncertainty as to his meaning.
+
+He did not seem to care to enlighten her further. His mood changed,
+too, even as she looked at him, and she saw the troubled gravity fade
+and the old gaiety glimmering in his eyes:
+
+"I've a mind to put you on a horse, Sweetness, and see what happens,"
+he remarked.
+
+"Oh, Garry! I don't want to tumble off before _you_!"
+
+"Before whom had you rather land on that red head of yours?" he
+inquired. "I'd be more sympathetic than many."
+
+"I'd rather have Thessa watch me break my neck. Do you mind? It's
+horrid to be so sensitive, I suppose. But, Garry, I couldn't bear to
+have you see me so shamefully awkward and demoralised."
+
+"Fancy your being awkward! Well, all right----"
+
+He looked across the lawn, where Thessalie and Westmore sat together,
+just outside the tennis court, under a brilliant lawn umbrella.
+
+Oddly enough, the spectacle caused him no subtle pang, although their
+heads were pretty close together and their mutual absorption in
+whatever they were saying appeared evident enough.
+
+"Let 'em chatter," he said after an instant's hesitation. "Thessa or
+my sister can ride with you this afternoon when it's cooler. I suppose
+you'll take to the saddle as though born there."
+
+"Oh, I hope so!"
+
+"Sure thing. All Irish girls--of your quality--take to it."
+
+"My--quality?"
+
+"Yours.... It's merely happened so," he added irrelevantly, "--but the
+contrary couldn't have mattered ... as long as you are _you_! Nothing
+else matters one way or another. You _are_ you: that answers all
+questions, fulfils all requirements----"
+
+"I _don't_ quite understand what you say, Garry!"
+
+"Don't you, Sweetness? Don't you understand why you've always been
+exactly what you appear like at this moment?"
+
+She looked at him with her lovely, uncertain smile:
+
+"I've always been myself, I suppose. You are teasing me dreadfully!"
+
+He laughed in a nervous, excited way, not like himself:
+
+"You bet you have always been yourself, Sweetness!--in spite of
+everything you've always been _yourself_. I am very slow in
+discovering it. But I think I realise it now."
+
+"Please," she remonstrated, "you are laughing at me and I don't know
+why. I think you've been talking nonsense and expecting me to pretend
+to understand.... If you don't stop laughing at me I shall retire to
+my room and--and----"
+
+"What, Sweetness?" he demanded, still laughing.
+
+"Change to a cooler gown," she said, humorously vexed at her own
+inability to threaten or punish him for his gaiety at her expense.
+
+"All right; I'll change too, and we'll meet in the music-room!"
+
+She considered him askance:
+
+"Will you be more respectful to me, Garry?"
+
+"Respectful? I don't know."
+
+"Very well, then, I'm not coming back."
+
+But when he entered the music-room half an hour later, Dulcie was
+seated demurely before the piano, and when he came and stood behind
+her she dropped her head straight back and looked up at him.
+
+"I had a wonderful icy bath," she said, "and I'm ready for anything.
+Are you?"
+
+"Almost," he said, looking down at her.
+
+She straightened up, gazed silently at the piano for a few moments;
+sounded a few chords. Then her fingers wandered uncertainly, as though
+groping for something that eluded them--something that they delicately
+sought to interpret. But apparently she did not discover it; and her
+search among the keys ended in a soft chord like a sigh. Only her lips
+could have spoken more plainly.
+
+At that moment Westmore and Thessalie came in breezily and remained to
+gossip a few minutes before bathing and changing.
+
+"Play something jolly!" said Westmore. "One of those gay Irish things,
+you know, like 'The Honourable Michael Dunn,' or 'Finnigan's Wake,'
+or----"
+
+"I don't know any," said Dulcie, smiling. "There's a song called
+'Asthore.' My mother wrote it----"
+
+"Can you sing it?"
+
+The girl ran her fingers over the keys musingly:
+
+"I'll remember it presently. I know one or two old songs like
+'Irishmen All.' Do you know that song?"
+
+And she sang it in her gay, unembarrassed way:
+
+  "Warm is our love for the island that bore us,
+  Ready are we as our fathers before us,
+    Genial and gallant men,
+    Fearless and valiant men,
+  Faithful to Erin we answer her call.
+    Ulster men, Munster men,
+    Connaught men, Leinster men,
+  Irishmen all we answer her call!"
+
+"Fine!" cried Westmore. "Try it again, Dulcie!"
+
+"Maybe you'll like this better," she said:
+
+    "Our Irish girls are beautiful,
+  As all the world will own;
+    An Irish smile in Irish eyes
+  Would melt a heart of stone;
+    But all their smiles and all their wiles
+  Will quickly turn to sneers
+    If you fail to fight for Erin
+  In the Irish Volunteers!"
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Westmore, beating time and picking up the chorus of
+the "Irish Volunteers," which Dulcie played to a thunderous finish
+amid frantic applause.
+
+She sang for them "The West's Awake!", "The Risin' of the Moon,"
+"Clare's Dragoons," and "Paddy Get Up!" And after Westmore had
+exercised his lungs sufficiently in every chorus, he and Thessalie
+went off to their respective quarters, leaving Barres leaning on the
+piano beside Dulcie.
+
+"Your people are a splendid lot--given half a chance," he said.
+
+"My people?"
+
+"Certainly. After all, Sweetness, you're Irish, you know."
+
+"Oh."
+
+"Aren't you?"
+
+"I don't know what I am," she murmured half to herself.
+
+"Whoever you are it's the same to me, Dulcie." ... He took a few
+short, nervous turns across the room; walked slowly back to her: "Has
+it come back to you yet--that song of your mother's you were trying to
+remember?"
+
+Even while he was speaking the song came back to her memory--her
+mother's song called "Asthore"--startling her with its poignant
+significance to herself.
+
+"Do you recollect it?" he asked again.
+
+"Y-yes ... I can't sing it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I don't wish to sing 'Asthore'----" She bent her head and gazed at
+the keyboard, the painful colour dyeing her neck and cheeks.
+
+When at length she looked up at him out of lovely, distressed eyes,
+something in his face--something--some new expression which she dared
+not interpret--set her heart flying. And, scarcely knowing what she
+was saying in her swift and exquisite confusion:
+
+"The words of my mother's song would mean nothing to you, Garry," she
+faltered. "You could not understand them----"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"B-because you could not be in sympathy with them."
+
+"How do you know? Try!"
+
+"I can't----"
+
+"Please, dear!"
+
+The smile edging her lips glimmered in her eyes now--a reckless little
+glint of humour, almost defiant.
+
+"Do you insist that I sing 'Asthore'?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He seemed conscious of a latent excitement in her to which something
+within himself was already responsive.
+
+"It's about a lover," she said, "--one of the old-fashioned, head-long,
+hot-headed sort--Irish, of course!--you'd not understand--such
+things----" Her tongue and colour were running random riot; her words
+outstripped her thoughts and tripped up her tongue, scaring her a
+little. She drummed on the keys a rollicking trill or two, hesitated,
+stole a swift, uncertain glance at him.
+
+A delicate intoxication enveloped her, stimulating, frightening her a
+little, yet hurrying her into speech again:
+
+"I'll sing it for you, Garry asthore! And if I were a lad I'd be
+singing my own gay credo!--if I were the lad--and you but a lass,
+asthore!"
+
+Then, though her gray eyes winced and her flying colour betrayed her
+trepidation, she looked straight at him, laughingly, and her clear,
+childish voice continued the little prelude to "Asthore":
+
+      I
+
+  "I long for her, who e'er she be--
+  The lass that Fate decrees for me;
+  Or dark or white and fair to see,
+  My heart is hers _'be n-Eirinn i_!
+
+  I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be,
+  I could not love her more!
+  _'Be n-Eirin i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!_[1]
+
+      II
+
+  "I know her tresses unconfined,
+  In wanton ringlets woo the wind--
+  Or rags or silk her bosom bind
+  It's one to me; my eyes are blind!
+
+  I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be,
+  Or poor, or rich galore!
+  _'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!_
+
+      III
+
+  "At noon, some day, I'll climb a hill,
+  And find her there and kiss my fill;
+  And if she won't, I think she will,
+  For every Jack must have his Jill!
+
+  I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be,
+  The lass that I adore!
+  _'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!_"
+
+  [1] The refrain, pronounced _Bay-nayring-ee_, is common to a number of
+      Irish love-songs written during the last century. It should be
+      translated: "Whoever she be."
+
+      In writing this song, it is evident that Eileen Fane was
+      inspired by Blind William of Tipperary; and that she was
+      beholden to Carroll O'Daly for her "Eileen, my Treasure,"
+      although not to Robin Adair of County Wicklow.
+
+      AUTHOR.
+
+Dulcie's voice and her flushed smile, too, faded, died out. She looked
+down at the keyboard, where her white hands rested idly; she bent
+lower--a little lower; laid her arms on the music-rest, her face on
+her crossed arms. And, slowly, the tears fell without a tremor,
+without a sound.
+
+He had leaned over her shoulders; his bowed head was close to hers--so
+close that he became aware of the hot, tearful fragrance of her
+breath; but there was not a sound from her, not a stir.
+
+"What is it, Sweetness?" he whispered.
+
+"I--don't know.... I didn't m-mean to--cry.... And I don't know why I
+should.... I'm very h-happy----" She withdrew one arm and stretched it
+out, blindly, seeking him; and he took her hand and held it close to
+his lips.
+
+"Why are you so distressed, Dulcie?"
+
+"I'm not. I'm happy.... You know I am.... My heart was very full; that
+is all.... I don't seem to know how to express myself sometimes....
+Perhaps it's because I don't quite dare.... So something gives way....
+And this happens--tears. Don't mind them, please.... If I could reach
+my handkerchief----" She drew the tiny square of sheer stuff from her
+bosom and rested her closed eyes on it.
+
+"It's silly, isn't it, Garry?... W-when a girl is so heavenly
+contented.... Is anybody coming?"
+
+"Westmore and Thessa!"
+
+She whisked her tears away and sat up swiftly. But Thessa merely
+called to them that she and Westmore were off for a walk, and passed
+on through the hall and out through the porch.
+
+"Garry," she murmured, looking away from him.
+
+"Yes, dear?"
+
+"May I go to my room and fix my hair? Because Mr. Skeel will be here.
+Do you mind if I leave you?"
+
+He laughed:
+
+"Of course not, you charming child!" Then, as he looked down at her
+hand, which he still retained, his expression altered; he inclosed the
+slender fingers, bent slowly and touched the fragrant palm with his
+lips.
+
+They were both on their feet the next second; she passing him with a
+pale, breathless little smile, and swiftly crossing the hall; he dumb,
+confused by the sudden tumult within him, standing there with one hand
+holding to the piano as though for support, and looking after the
+slim, receding figure till it disappeared beyond the library door.
+
+His mother and sister returned from their morning ride, lingered to
+chat with him, then went away to dress for luncheon. Murtagh Skeel had
+not yet arrived.
+
+Westmore and Thessalie returned from their walk in the woods by the
+second lake, reporting a distant view of Barres senior, fishing madly
+from a canoe.
+
+Dulcie came down and joined them in the library. Later Mrs. Barres and
+Lee appeared, and luncheon was announced.
+
+Murtagh Skeel had not come to Foreland Farms, and there was no word
+from him.
+
+Mrs. Barres spoke of his absence during luncheon, for Garry had told
+her he was coming to talk to Dulcie about her mother, whom he had
+known very well in Ireland.
+
+Luncheon ended, and the cool north veranda became the popular
+rendezvous for the afternoon, and later for tea. People from
+Northbrook drove, rode, or motored up for a cheering cup, and a word
+or two of gossip. But Skeel did not come.
+
+By half-past five the north veranda was thronged with a gaily
+chattering and very numerous throng from neighbouring estates. The
+lively gossip was of war, of the coming elections, of German
+activities, of the Gerhardts' promised moonlight spectacle and dance,
+of Murtagh Skeel and the romantic interest he had aroused among
+Northbrook folk.
+
+So many people were arriving or leaving and such a delightful and
+general informality reigned that Dulcie, momentarily disengaged from a
+vapid but persistent dialogue with a chuckle-headed but persistent
+youth, ventured to slip into the house, and through it to the garden
+in the faint hope that perhaps Murtagh Skeel might have avoided the
+tea-crush and had gone directly there.
+
+But the rose arbour was empty; only the bubble of the little wall
+fountain and a robin's evening melody broke the scented stillness of
+the late afternoon.
+
+Her mind was full of Murtagh Skeel, her heart of Garry Barres, as she
+stood there in that blossoming solitude, listening to the robin and
+the fountain, while her eyes wandered across flower-bed, pool, and
+clipped greensward, and beyond the garden wall to the hill where three
+pines stood silver-green against the sky.
+
+Little by little the thought of Murtagh Skeel faded from her mind;
+fuller and fuller grew her heart with confused emotions new to
+her--emotions too perplexing, too deep, too powerful, perhaps, for her
+to understand--or to know how to resist or to endure. For the first
+vague sweetness of her thoughts had grown keen to the verge of
+pain--an exquisite spiritual tension which hurt her, bewildered her
+with the deep emotions it stirred.
+
+To love, had been a phrase to her; a lover, a name. For beyond
+that childish, passionate adoration which Barres had evoked in
+her, and which to her meant friendship, nothing more subtly mature,
+more vital, had threatened her unawakened adolescence with any
+clearer comprehension of him or any deeper apprehension of herself.
+
+And even now it was not knowledge that pierced her, lighting little
+confusing flashes in her mind and heart. For her heart was still a
+child's heart; and her mind, stimulated and rapidly developing under
+the warm and magic kindness of this man who had become her only
+friend, had not thought of him in any other way.... Until to-day.
+
+What had happened in her mind, in her heart, she had not
+analysed--probably was afraid to, there at the piano in the
+music-room. And later, in her bedroom, when she had summoned up
+innocent courage sufficient for self-analysis, she didn't know how to
+question herself--did not realise exactly what had happened to her,
+and never even thought of including him in the enchanted cataclysm
+which had befallen her mind and heart and soul.
+
+Thessalie and Westmore appeared on the lawn by the pool. Behind the
+woods the sky was tinted with pale orange.
+
+It may have been the psychic quality of the Celt in Dulcie--a pale
+glimmer of clairvoyance--some momentary and vague premonition
+wirelessed through the evening stillness which set her sensitive body
+vibrating; for she turned abruptly and gazed northward across the
+woods and hills--remained motionless, her grey eyes fixed on the far
+horizon, all silvery with the hidden glimmer of unlighted stars.
+
+Then she slowly said aloud to herself:
+
+"He will not come. He will never come again--this man who loved my
+mother."
+
+Barres approached across the grass, looking for her. She went forward
+through the arbour to meet him.
+
+"Hasn't he come?" he asked.
+
+"He is not coming, Garry."
+
+"Why? Have you heard anything?"
+
+She shook her head:
+
+"No. But he isn't coming."
+
+"Probably he'll explain this evening at the Gerhardts'."
+
+"I shall never see him again," she said absently.
+
+He turned and gave her a searching look. Her gaze was remote, her face
+a little pale.
+
+They walked back to the house together in silence.
+
+A servant met them in the hall with a note on a tray. It was for
+Barres; Dulcie passed on with a pale little smile of dismissal; Barres
+opened the note:
+
+  "The pot has boiled over, mon ami. Something has scared Skeel. He
+  gave us the slip very cleverly, leaving Gerhardt's house before
+  sunrise and motoring north at crazy speed. Where he will strike
+  the railway I have no means of knowing. Your Government's people
+  are trying to cover Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. On the Canada side
+  the authorities have been notified and are alert I hope.
+
+  "Gerhardt's country house is a nest of mischief hatchers. One in
+  particular is under surveillance and will be arrested. His name is
+  Tauscher.
+
+  "Because, mon ami, it has just been discovered that there are
+  _two_ plots to blow up the Welland Canal! One is Skeel's. The
+  other is Tauscher's. It is a purely German plot. They don't intend
+  to blow themselves up these Huns. Oh no! They expect to get away.
+
+  "Evidently Bernstorff puts no faith in Skeel's mad plan. So, in
+  case it doesn't pan out, here is Tauscher with another plan, made
+  in Germany, and very, very thorough. Isn't it characteristic? Here
+  is the report I received this morning:
+
+  "'Captain Franz von Papen, Military Attaché on the ambassadorial
+  staff of Count von Bernstorff, and Captain Hans Tauscher, who,
+  besides being the Krupp agent in America, is also, by appointment
+  of the German War Office, von Papen's chief military assistant in
+  the United States, have plotted the destruction of the Welland
+  Canal in Canada.
+
+  "'Captain Hans Tauscher will be arrested and indicted for
+  violation of Section 13 of the United States Criminal Code, for
+  setting on foot a military enterprise against Canada during the
+  neutrality of the United States.
+
+  "'Tauscher is a German reserve officer and is subject to the
+  orders of Captain Franz von Papen, Military Attaché of Count von
+  Bernstorff. His indictment will be brought about by reason of an
+  attempt to blow up parts of the Welland Canal, the waterway
+  connecting Lakes Erie and Ontario. A small party of Germans, under
+  command of one von der Goltz, have started from New York for the
+  purpose of committing this act of sabotage, and, incidentally, of
+  assassination of all men, women and children who might be involved
+  in the explosion at the point to be selected by the plotters.
+
+  "'Tauscher bought and furnished to this crowd of assassins the
+  dynamite which was to be used for the purpose. The fact that
+  Tauscher had bought the dynamite has become known to the United
+  States authorities and he will be called upon to make an
+  explanation.
+
+  "'Captain Tauscher is said to be an agreeable companion, but
+  he had the ordinary predilection of a German officer for
+  assassinating women and children.'
+
+  "Now, then, mon ami, this is the report. I expect that United
+  States Secret Service men will arrest Tauscher to-night. Perhaps
+  Gerhardt, also, will be arrested.
+
+  "At any rate, at the dance to-night you need not look for Skeel.
+  But may I suggest that you and Mr. Westmore keep your eyes on
+  Mademoiselle Dunois. Because, at the railway station to-day, the
+  German agents, Franz Lehr and Max Freund, were recognised by my
+  men, disguised as liveried chauffeurs, but in whose service we
+  have not yet been able to discover.
+
+  "Therefore, it might be well for you and Mr. Westmore to remain
+  near Mademoiselle Dunois during the evening.
+
+  "Au revoir! I shall see you at the dance.
+
+  "RENOUX."
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+THE MOONLIT WAY
+
+
+Barres whistled and sang alternately as he tied his evening tie before
+his looking glass.
+
+      "_And I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be
+    I could not love her more!_"
+
+he chanted gaily, examining the effect and buttoning his white
+waistcoat.
+
+Westmore, loitering near and waiting for him, referred again,
+indignantly, to Renoux's report concerning the presence of Freund and
+Lehr at the Northbrook railway station.
+
+"If I catch them hanging around Thessa," he said, "I'll certainly beat
+them up, Garry.
+
+"Deal with anything of that sort directly; that's always the best way.
+No use arguing with a Hun. When he misbehaves, beat him up. It's the
+only thing he understands."
+
+"Well, it's all right for us to do it now, as long as the French
+Government knows where Thessa is," remarked Barres, drawing a white
+clove-carnation through his buttonhole. "But what do you think of that
+dirty swine, Tauscher, planning wholesale murder like that? Isn't it
+the fine flower of Prussianism? There's the real and porcine boche for
+you, sombre, savage, stupidly ferocious, swinishly persistent, but
+never quite cunning enough, never sufficiently subtle in planning his
+filthy and murderous holocausts."
+
+Westmore nodded:
+
+"Quite right. The _Lusitania_ and Belgium cost the Hun the respect of
+civilisation, and are driving the civilised world into a common
+understanding. We'll go in before long; don't worry."
+
+They descended the stairs together just as dinner was announced.
+
+Mrs. Barres said laughingly to her son:
+
+"Your father is still fishing, I suppose, so in spite of his
+admonition to me by letter this morning, I sent over one of the men
+with some thermos bottles and a very nice supper. He grumbles, but he
+always likes it."
+
+"I wonder what Mr. Barres will think of me," ventured Dulcie. "He left
+such a pretty little rod for me. Thessa and I have been examining it.
+I'd like to go, only--" she added with a wistful smile, "I have never
+been to a real party."
+
+"Of course you're going to the Gerhardts'," insisted Lee, laughing.
+"Dad is absurd about his fishing. I don't believe any girl ever lived
+who'd prefer fishing on that foggy lake at night to dancing at such a
+party as you are going to to-night."
+
+"Aren't you going?" asked Thessalie, but Lee shook her head, still
+smiling.
+
+"We have two young setters down with distemper, and mother and I
+always sit up with our dogs under such circumstances."
+
+Personal devotion of this sort was new to Thessalie. Mrs. Barres and
+Lee told her all about the dreaded contagion and how very dreadful an
+epidemic might be in a kennel of such finely bred dogs as was the
+well-known Foreland Kennels.
+
+Dog talk absorbed everybody during dinner. Mrs. Barres and Lee were
+intensely interested in Thessalie's description of the Grand Duke
+Cyril's Russian wolfhounds, with which she had coursed and hunted as a
+child.
+
+Once she spoke, also, of those strange, pathetic, melancholy
+Ishmaelites, pitiable outcasts of their race--the pariah dogs of
+Constantinople. For, somehow, while dressing that evening, the distant
+complaint of a tethered beagle had made her think of Stamboul. And she
+remembered that night so long ago on the moonlit deck of the _Mirage_,
+where she had stood with Ferez Bey while, from the unseen, monstrous
+city close at hand, arose the endless wailing of homeless dogs.
+
+How strange it was, too, to think that the owner of the _Mirage_
+should this night be her host here in the Western World, yet remain
+unconscious that he had ever before entertained her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before coffee had been served in the entrance hall, the kennel master
+sent in word that one of the pups, a promising Blue Belton, had turned
+very sick indeed, and would Mrs. Barres come to the kennels as soon as
+convenient.
+
+It was enough for Mrs. Barres and for Lee; they both excused
+themselves without further ceremony and went away together to the
+kennels, apparently quite oblivious of their delicate dinner gowns and
+slippers.
+
+"I've seen my mother ruin many a gown on such errands," remarked
+Garry, smiling. "No use offering yourself as substitute; my mother
+would as soon abandon her own sick baby to strangers as turn over an
+ailing pup to anybody except Lee and herself."
+
+"I think that is very splendid," murmured Dulcie, relinquishing her
+coffee cup to Garry and suffering a maid to invest her with a scarf
+and light silk wrap.
+
+"My mother _is_ splendid," said Garry in a low voice. "You will see
+her prove it some day, I hope."
+
+The girl turned her lovely head, curiously, not understanding. Garry
+laughed, but his voice was not quite steady when he said:
+
+"But it all depends on you, Dulcie, how splendid my mother may prove
+herself."
+
+"On _me_!"
+
+"On your--kindness."
+
+"My--_kindness_!"
+
+Thessalie came up in her pretty carnation-rose cloak, esquired by the
+enraptured Westmore, expressing admiration for the clothing adorning
+the very obvious object of his devotion:
+
+"All girls can't wear a thing like that cloak," he was explaining
+proudly; "now it would look like the devil on you, Dulcie, with your
+coppery hair and----"
+
+"What exquisite tact!" shrugged Thessalie, already a trifle restive
+under his constant attendance and unremitting admiration. "Can't you,
+out of your richly redundant vocabulary, find something civil to say
+to Dulcie?"
+
+But Dulcie, still preoccupied with what Barres had said, merely gave
+her an absent-minded smile and walked slowly out beside her to the
+porch, where the headlights of a touring car threw two broad beams of
+gold across the lawn.
+
+It was a swift, short run through the valley northward among the
+hills, and very soon the yellow lights of Northbrook summer homes
+dotted the darkness ahead, and cars were speeding in from every
+direction--from Ilderness, Wythem, East and South Gorloch--carrying
+guests for the Gerhardts' moonlight spectacle and dance.
+
+Apropos of the promised spectacle, Barres observed to Dulcie that
+there happened to be no moon, and consequently no moonlight, but the
+girl, now delightfully excited by glimpses of Hohenlinden festooned
+with electricity, gaily reproached him for being literal.
+
+"If one is happy," she said, "a word is enough to satisfy one's
+imagination. If they call it a moonlight spectacle, I shall certainly
+see moonlight whether it's there or not!"
+
+"They may call it heaven, too, if they like," he said, "and I'll
+believe it--if you are there."
+
+At that she blushed furiously:
+
+"Oh, Garry! You don't mean it, and it's silly to say it!"
+
+"I mean it all right," he muttered, as the car swung in through the
+great ornamental gates of Hohenlinden. "The trouble is that I mean so
+much--and _you_ mean so much to me--that I don't know how to express
+it."
+
+The girl, her face charmingly aglow, looked straight in front of her
+out of enchanted eyes, but her heart's soft violence in her breast
+left her breathless and mute; and when the car stopped she scarcely
+dared rest her hand on the arm which Barres presented to guide her in
+her descent to earth.
+
+It may have been partly the magnificence of Hohenlinden that so
+thrillingly overwhelmed her as she seated herself with Garry on the
+marble terrace of an amphitheatre among brilliant throngs already
+gathered to witness the eagerly discussed spectacle.
+
+And it really was a bewilderingly beautiful scene, there under the
+summer stars, where a thousand rosy lanterns hung tinting the still
+waters of the little stream that wound through the clipped greensward
+which was the stage.
+
+The foliage of a young woodland walled in this vernal scene; the
+auditorium was a semi-circle of amber marble--rows of low benches,
+tier on tier, rising to a level with the lawn above.
+
+The lantern light glowed on pretty shoulders and bare arms, on laces
+and silks and splendid jewels, and stained the sombre black of the men
+with vague warm hues of rose.
+
+Westmore, leaning over to address Barres, said with an amused air:
+
+"You know, Garry, it's Corot Mandel who is putting on this thing for
+the Gerhardts."
+
+"Certainly I know it," nodded Barres. "Didn't he try to get Thessa for
+it?"
+
+Thessalie, whose colour was high and whose dark eyes, roaming, had
+grown very brilliant, suddenly held out her hand to one of two men
+who, traversing the inclined aisle beside her, halted to salute her.
+
+"Your name was on our lips," she said gaily. "How do you do, Mr.
+Mandel! How do you do, Mr. Trenor! Are you going to amaze us with a
+miracle in this enchanting place?"
+
+The two men paid their respects to her, and, with unfeigned
+astonishment and admiration, to Dulcie, whom they recognised only when
+Thessalie named her with delighted malice.
+
+"Oh, I say, Miss Soane," began Mandel, leaning on the back of the
+marble seat, "you and Miss Dunois might have helped me a lot if I'd
+known you were to be in this neighbourhood."
+
+Esmé Trenor bent over Barres, dropping his voice:
+
+"We had to use a couple of Broadway hacks--you'll recognise 'em
+through their paint--you understand?--the two that New York screams
+for. It's too bad. Corot wanted something unfamiliarly beautiful and
+young and fresh. But these Northbrook amateurs are incredibly
+amateurish."
+
+Thessalie was chattering away with Corot Mandel and Westmore; Esmé
+Trenor gazed upon Dulcie in wonder not unmixed with chagrin:
+
+"You've never forgiven me, Dulcie, have you?"
+
+"For what?" she inquired indifferently.
+
+"For not discovering you when I should have."
+
+She smiled, but the polite effort and her detachment of all interest
+in him were painfully visible to Esmé.
+
+"I'm sorry you still remember me so unkindly," he murmured.
+
+"But I never do remember you at all," she explained so candidly that
+Barres was obliged to avert his amused face, and Esmé Trenor reddened
+to the roots of his elaborate hair. Mandel, with a wry grin, linked
+his arm in Trenor's and drew him away toward the flight of steps which
+was the stage entrance to the dressing rooms below.
+
+"Good-bye!" he said, waving his hat. "Hope you'll like my moonlight
+frolic!"
+
+"Where's your bally moon!" demanded Westmore.
+
+As he spoke, an unseen orchestra began to play "_Au Claire de la
+Lune_," and, behind the woods, silhouetting every trunk and branch and
+twig, the glittering edge of a huge, silvery moon appeared.
+
+Slowly it rose, flashing a broad path of light across the lawn,
+reflected in the still little river. And when it was in the position
+properly arranged for it, some local Joshua--probably Corot
+Mandel--arrested its further motion, and it hung there, flooding the
+stage with a witching lustre.
+
+All at once the stage swarmed with supple, glimmering shapes: Oberon
+and Titania came flitting down through the trees; Puck, scintillating
+like a dragon-fly, dropped on the sward, seemingly out of nowhere.
+
+It was a wonderfully beautiful ballet, with an unseen chorus singing
+from within the woods like a thousand seraphim.
+
+As for the play itself, which began with the calm and silvered
+river suddenly swarming alive with water-nymphs, it had to do,
+spasmodically, with the love of the fairy crown-prince for the very
+attractive water-nymph, Ythali. This nimble lady, otherwise, was
+fiercely wooed by the King of the Mud-turtles, a most horrid and
+sprawling shape, but a clever foil--with his army of river-rats,
+minks and crabs--to the nymphs and wood fairies.
+
+Also, the music was refreshingly charming, the singing excellent, and
+the story interesting enough to keep the audience amused until the
+end.
+
+There was, of course, much moonlight dancing, much frolicking in the
+water, few clothes on the Broadway principals, fewer on the chorus,
+and apparently no scruples about discarding even these.
+
+But the whole spectacle was so unreal, so spectral, that its shadowy
+beauty robbed it of offence.
+
+That sort of thing had made Corot Mandel famous. He calculated to the
+width of a moonbeam just how far he could go. And he never went a
+hair's breadth farther.
+
+Thessalie looked on with flushed cheeks and parted lips, absorbed in
+it all with the savant eyes of a professional. She also had once
+coolly decided how far her beauty and talent and adolescent effrontery
+could carry her gay disdain of man. And she had flouted him with
+indifferent eyes and dainty nose uplifted--mocked him and his
+conventions, with a few roubles in her dressing-room--slapped the
+collective face of his sex with her insolent loveliness, and careless
+smile.
+
+Perhaps, as she sat there watching the fairy scene, she remembered her
+ostrich and the German Embassy, and the aged Von-der-Goltz Pasha, all
+over jewels and gold, peeping at her through thick spectacles under
+his red fez.
+
+Perhaps she thought of Ferez, too, and maybe it was thought of him
+that caused her smooth young shoulders the slightest of shivers, as
+though a harsh breeze had chilled her skin.
+
+As for Dulcie, she was in the seventh heaven, thrilled with the dreamy
+beauty of it all and the exquisite phantoms floating on the greensward
+under her enraptured eyes.
+
+No other thought possessed her save sheer delight in this revelation
+of pure enchantment.
+
+So intent, so still she became, leaning a little forward in her place,
+that Barres found her far more interesting and wonderful to watch than
+Mandel's cunningly contrived illusions in the artificial moonlight
+below.
+
+And now Titania's trumpets sounded from the woods, warning all of the
+impending dawn. Suddenly the magic fairy moon vanished like the flame
+of a blown-out candle; a faint, rosy light grew through the trees,
+revealing an empty stage and a river on which floated a single swan.
+
+Then, from somewhere, a distant cock-crow rang through the dawn. The
+play was ended.
+
+Two splendid orchestras were alternating on the vast marble terraces
+of Hohenlinden, where hundreds of dancers moved under the white
+radiance of a huge silvery moon overhead--another contrivance of
+Mandel's--for the splendid sphere aglow with white fire had somehow
+been suspended above the linden trees so that no poles and no wires
+were visible against the starry sky.
+
+And in its milky flood of light the dancers moved amid a wilderness of
+flowers or thronged the supper-rooms within, where Teutonic
+architectural and decorative magnificence reigned in one vast,
+incredible, indigestible gastronomic apotheosis of German kultur.
+
+Barres, for the moment, dancing with Thessalie, pressed her fingers
+with mischievous tenderness and whispered:
+
+"The moonlit way once more with you, Thessa! Do you remember our first
+dance?"
+
+"Can I ever thank God enough for that night's folly!" she said, with
+such sudden emotion that his smile altered as he looked into her dark
+eyes.
+
+"Yet that dance by moonlight exiled you," he said.
+
+"Do you realise what it saved me from, too? And what it has given
+me?"
+
+He wondered whether she included Westmore in the gift. The music
+ceased at that moment, and, though the other orchestra began, they
+strolled along the flowering balustrade of the terrace together until
+they encountered Dulcie and Westmore.
+
+"Have you spoken to your hostess?" inquired Westmore. "She's over
+yonder on a dais, enthroned like Germania or a Metropolitan Opera
+Valkyrie. Dulcie and I have paid our homage."
+
+So Barres and Thessalie went away to comply with the required
+formality; and, when they returned from the rite, they found Esmé
+Trenor and Corot Mandel cornering Dulcie under a flowering orange tree
+while Westmore, beside her, chatted with a most engaging woman who
+proved, later, to be a practising physician.
+
+Esmé was saying languidly, that anybody could fly into a temper and
+kick his neighbours, but that indifference to physical violence was a
+condition of mind attained only by the spiritual intellect of the
+psychic adept.
+
+"Passivism," he added with a wave of his lank fingers, "is the first
+plane to be attained on the journey toward Nirvana. Therefore, I am a
+pacifist and this silly war does not interest me in the slightest."
+
+The very engaging woman, who had been chatting with Westmore, looked
+around at Esmé Trenor, evidently much amused.
+
+"I imagined that you were a pacifist," she said. "I fancy, Mr. Mandel,
+also, is one."
+
+"Indeed, I am, madam!" said Corot Mandel. "I've plenty to do in life
+without strutting around and bawling for blood at the top of my
+lungs!"
+
+"Thank heaven," added Esmé, "the President has kept us out of war.
+This business of butchering others never appealed to me--except for
+the slightly unpleasant sensations which I experience when I read the
+details."
+
+"Oh. Then unpleasant sensations so appeal to you?" inquired Westmore,
+very red.
+
+"Well, they _are_ sensations, you know," drawled Esmé. "And, for a man
+who experiences few sensations of any sort, even unpleasant ones are
+pleasurable."
+
+Mandel yawned and said:
+
+"The war is an outrageous bore. All wars are stupid to a man of
+temperament. Therefore, I'm a pacifist. And I had rather live under
+Prussian domination than rush about the country with a gun and sixty
+pounds of luggage on my back!"
+
+He looked heavily at Dulcie, who had slipped out of the corner on the
+terrace, where he and Esmé had penned her.
+
+"There are other things to do more interesting than jabbing bayonets
+into Germans," he remarked. "Did you say you hadn't any dance to spare
+us, Miss Soane? Nor you either, Miss Dunois? Oh, well." He cast a
+disgusted glance at Barres, squinted at Westmore through his greasy
+monocle in hostile silence; then, taking Esmé's arm, made them all a
+too profound obeisance and sauntered away along the terrace.
+
+"What a pair of beasts!" said Westmore. "They make me actually ill!"
+
+Barres shrugged and turned to the very engaging lady beside him:
+
+"What do you think of that breed of human, doctor?" he inquired.
+
+She smiled at Barres and said:
+
+"Several of my own patients who are suffering from the same form of
+psycho-neurotic trouble are also peace-at-any-price pacifists. They do
+not come to me to be cured of their pacifism. On the contrary, they
+cherish it most tenderly. In examining them for other troubles I
+happened upon what appeared to me a very close relation between the
+peculiar attitude of the peace-at-any-price pacifist and a certain
+type of unconscious pervert."
+
+"That passivism is perversion does not surprise me," remarked Barres.
+
+"Well," she said, "the pacifist is not conscious of his real
+desires and therefore cannot be termed a true pervert. But the
+very term, passivism, is usually significant and goes very deep
+psychologically. In analysing my patients I struck against a buried
+impulse in them to suffer tyrannous treatment from an omnipotent
+master. The impulse was so strong that it amounted to a craving and
+tried to absorb all the psychic material within its reach. They did
+not recognise the original impulse, because that had long ago been
+crushed down by the exactions of civilised life. Nevertheless,
+they were tortured and teased, made unsettled and wretched by a
+something which continually baffled them. Deep under the upper crust
+of their personalities was concealed a seething desire to be
+completely, inevitably, relentlessly, unreservedly overwhelmed by a
+subjugation from which there was no escape."
+
+She turned to Westmore:
+
+"It's purely pathological, the condition of those two self-confessed
+pacifists. The pacifist loves suffering. The ordinary normal person
+avoids suffering when possible. He endures it only when something
+necessary or desirable cannot be gained in any other way. He may
+undergo agony at the mere thought of it. His bravery consists in
+facing danger and pain in spite of fear. But the extreme passivist,
+who is really an unconscious pervert, loves to dream of martyrdom and
+suffering. It must be a suffering, however, which is forced upon him,
+and it must be a personal matter, not impersonal and general, as in
+war. And he loves to contemplate a condition of complete captivity--of
+irresponsible passivity, in which all resistance is in vain."
+
+"Do you know, they disgust me, those two!" said Westmore angrily. "I
+never could endure anything abnormal. And now that I know Esmé is--and
+that big lout, Mandel--I'll keep away from them. Do you blame me,
+doctor?"
+
+"Well," she said, much amused and turning to go, "they're very
+interesting to physicians, you know--these non-resisting, pacifistic
+perverts. But outside a sanatorium I shouldn't expect them to be very
+popular." And she laughed and joined a big, good-looking man who had
+come to seek her, and who wore, in his buttonhole, the button of the
+French Legion of Honour.
+
+Thessalie had strolled forward along the terrace by herself,
+interested in the pretty spectacle and the play of light on jewels and
+gowns.
+
+Westmore, busy in expressing to Barres his opinion of Esmé and Mandel,
+did not at the moment miss Thessalie, who continued to saunter on
+along the balustrade of the terrace, under the blossoming row of
+orange trees.
+
+Just below her was another terrace and an oval pool set with tiny jets
+which seemed to spray the basin with liquid silver. Silvery fish, too,
+were swimming in it near the surface, sometimes flinging themselves
+clear out of water as though intoxicated by the unwonted lustre which
+flooded their crystal pool.
+
+To see them nearer, Thessalie ran lightly down the steps and walked
+toward the shimmering basin. And at the same time the head and
+shoulders of a man in evening dress, his bosom crossed by a sash of
+watered red silk, appeared climbing nimbly from a still lower level.
+
+She watched him step swiftly upon the terrace and cross it diagonally,
+walking in her direction toward the stone stairs which she had just
+descended. Then, paying him no further attention, she looked down into
+the water.
+
+He came along very near to where she stood, gazing into the
+pool--peered at her curiously--was already passing at her very
+elbow--when something made her lift her head and look around at him.
+
+The mock moonlight struck full across his features; and the shock of
+seeing him drove every vestige of colour from her own face.
+
+The man halted, staring at her in unfeigned amazement. Suddenly he
+snarled at her, baring his teeth in her shrinking face.
+
+"_Kismet dir!_" he whispered, "it ees _you_!... Nihla Quellen!
+_Now_ I begin onderstan'!... Yas, I now onderstan' who arrange it
+that they haf arrest my good frien', Tauscher! It ees _you_, then!
+Von Igel he has tol' me, look out once eef she escape--thees yoong
+leopardess----"
+
+"Ferez!" Thessalie's young figure stiffened and the colour flamed in
+her cheeks.
+
+"You leopardess!" he repeated, every tooth a-grin again with rage,
+"you misbegotten slut of a hunting cheetah! So thees is 'ow you
+strike!... Ver' well. Yas, I see 'ow it ees you strike at----"
+
+"Ferez!" she cried. "Listen to _me_!"
+
+"I 'ear you! Allez!"
+
+"Ferez Bey! I am not afraid of you!"
+
+"Ees it so?"
+
+"Yes, it is so. I _never_ have been afraid of you! Not even there on
+the deck of the _Mirage_, that night when you tapped the hilt of your
+Kurdish knife and spoke of Seraglio Point! Nor when your scared spy
+shot at me in the corridor of the Tenth Street house; nor afterward at
+Dragon Court! Nor now! Do you understand, Eurasian jackal! Nor _now_!
+Anybody can see what _Heruli_ whelped you! What are you doing in
+America? Kassim Pasha is your den, where your _rayah_ loll and scratch
+in the sun! It is their _Keyeff_! And yours!"
+
+She took a quick step toward him, her eyes flashing, her white hand
+clenched:
+
+"_Allah Kerim_--do you say? _El Hamdu Lillah!_ Do you take yourself
+for the _muezzin_ of all jackals, then, howling blasphemies from some
+_minaret_ in the hills? Do you understand what they'd do to you in
+the _Hirka-i-Sherif Jamesi_? Because you are _nothing_; do you
+hear?--nothing but an Eurasian assassin! And Moslem and Christian
+alike know where _you_ belong among the lost pariahs of Stamboul!"
+
+The girl was utterly transfigured. Whatever of the Orient was in her,
+now blazed white hot.
+
+"What have I done to you, Ferez? What have I ever done to you that
+you, even from my childhood, come always stepping noiselessly at my
+skirt's edge?--always padding behind me at my heels, silent, sinister,
+whimpering with bared teeth for the courage to bite which God denies
+you!"
+
+The man stood almost motionless, moistening his dry lips with his
+tongue, but his eyes moved continually, stealing uneasy glances around
+him and upward, where, on the main terrace above them, the heads of
+the throng passed and repassed.
+
+"Nihla," he said, "for all thees scorn and abuse of me, you know, in
+the false heart of you, why it ees so if I have seek you."
+
+"You dealer in lies! You would have sold me to d'Eblis! You thought
+you _had_ sold me! You were paid for it, too!"
+
+"An' still!" He looked at her furtively.
+
+"What do you mean? You conspired with d'Eblis to ruin me, soul and
+body! You involved me in your treacherous propaganda in Paris. Through
+you I am an exile. If I go back to my own country, I shall go to a
+shameful death. You have blackened my honour in my country's eyes. But
+that was not enough. No! You thought me sufficiently broken, degraded,
+terrified to listen to any proposition from you. You sent your agents
+to me with offers of money if I would betray my country. Finding I
+would not, you whined and threatened. Then, like the Eurasian dog you
+are, you tried to bargain. You were eager to offer me anything if I
+would keep quiet and not interfere----"
+
+"Nihla!"
+
+"What?" she said, contemptuously.
+
+"In spite of thees--of all you say--I have love you!"
+
+"Liar!" she retorted wrathfully. "Do you dare say that to me, whom you
+have already tried to murder?"
+
+"I say it. Yas. Eef it has not been so then you were dead long time."
+
+"You--you are trying to tell me that you spared me!" she demanded
+scornfully.
+
+"It ees so. Alexandre--d'Eblis, you know?--long time since he would
+have safety for us all--thees way. Non! Je ne pourrais pas vouz tuer,
+moi! It ees not in my heart, Nihla.... Because I have love you long
+time--ver' long time."
+
+"Because you have _feared_ me long time, ver' long time!" she mocked
+him. "That is why, Ferez--because you are afraid; because you are only
+a jackal. And jackals never kill. No!"
+
+"You say thees-a to me, Nihla?"
+
+"Yes, I say it. You're a coward! And I'll tell you something more. I
+am going to make a complete statement to the French Government. I
+shall relate everything I know about d'Eblis, Bolo Effendi, a certain
+bureaucrat, an Italian politician, a Swiss banker, old Von-der-Goltz
+Pasha, Heimholz, Von-der-Hohe Pasha, and you, my Ferez--and you,
+also!
+
+[Illustration: HE CAME TOWARD HER STEALTHILY]
+
+"Do you know what France will do to d'Eblis and his scoundrel friends?
+Do you guess what these duped Americans will do to Bolo Effendi? And
+to you? And to Von Papen and Boy-ed and Von Igel--yes, and to
+Bernstorff and his whole murderous herd of Germans? And can you
+imagine what my own doubly duped Government will surely, surely do,
+some day, to you, Ferez?"
+
+She laughed, but her dark eyes fairly glittered:
+
+"_My_ martyrdom is ending, God be thanked! And then I shall be free to
+serve where my heart is ... in Alsace!... Alsace!--forever French!"
+
+In the white light she saw the sweat break out on the man's
+forehead--saw him grope for his handkerchief--and draw out a knife
+instead--never taking his eyes off her.
+
+She turned to run; but he had already blocked the way to the stone
+steps; and now he came creeping toward her, white as a cadaver,
+distracted from sheer terror, and rubbing the knife flat against his
+thigh.
+
+"So you shall do thees--a filth to me--eh, Nihla?" he whispered with
+blanched lips. "It ees on me, your frien', you spring to keel me, eh,
+my leopardess? Ver' well. But firs' I teach you somethings you don'
+know!--thees-a way, my Nihla!"
+
+He came toward her stealthily, moving more swiftly as she put the
+stone basin of the pool between them and cast an agonised glance up at
+the distant terrace.
+
+"Jim!" she cried frantically. "Jim! Help me, Jim!"
+
+The gay din of the music above drowned her cry; she fled as Ferez
+darted toward her, but again he doubled and sprang back to bar the
+stone steps, and she halted, white and breathless, yet poised for
+instant flight.
+
+Again and again she called out desperately for aid; the noise of the
+orchestra smothered her cry. And if, indeed, anybody from the terrace
+above chanced to glance down, it is likely that they supposed these
+two were skylarking merrymakers at some irresponsible game of
+catch-who-can.
+
+Suddenly Thessalie remembered the lower level, where the automobiles
+were parked, and from which Ferez had first appeared. She could escape
+that way. There were the steps, not very far behind her. The next
+instant she turned and ran like a deer.
+
+And after her sped Ferez, his broad, thin-bladed knife pressed flat
+against the crimson sash across his breast, his dead-white visage
+distorted with that blind, convulsive fear which makes murderers out
+of cowards.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+GREEN JACKETS
+
+
+Thoroughly worried by this time over the sudden disappearance of
+Thessalie Dunois, and unable to discover her anywhere on the terrace
+or in the house, Westmore, Barres and Dulcie Soane had followed the
+winding main drive as far as the level, where their car was waiting
+among scores of other cars.
+
+But Thessalie was not there; the chauffeur had not seen her.
+
+"Where in the world could she have gone?" faltered Dulcie. "She was
+standing up there on the terrace with us, a moment ago; then, the very
+next second, she had vanished utterly."
+
+Westmore, grim and pallid, walked back along the drive; Dulcie
+followed with Barres. As they overtook Westmore, he cast one more
+glance back at the ranks of waiting cars, then stared up at the
+terraced hill above them, over which the artificial moon hung above
+the lindens, glowing with pallid, lambent fires.
+
+There was a vague whitish object on one of the grassy slopes--something
+in motion up there--something that was running erratically but
+swiftly--as though in pursuit--or _pursued_!
+
+"My God! What's that, Garry!" he burst out. "That thing up there on
+the hillside!"
+
+He sprang for the steps, Barres after him, taking the ascent at
+incredible speed, up, up, then out along a shrub-set grassy slope.
+
+"Thessa!" shouted Westmore. "Thessa!"
+
+But the girl was flat on her back on the grass now, fighting sturdily
+for life--twisting, striking, baffling the whining, panting thing that
+knelt on her, holding her and trying to drive a knife deep into the
+lithe young body which always slipped and writhed out of his trembling
+clutch.
+
+Again and again he tore himself free from her grasp; again and again
+his armed hand sought to strike, but she always managed to seize and
+drag it aside with the terrible strength of one dying. And at last,
+with a last crazed, superhuman effort, she wrested the knife from his
+unnerved fist, tore it out of his spent fingers.
+
+It fell somewhere near her on the grass; he strove to reach it and
+pick it up, but already her dauntless resistance began to exhaust him,
+and he groped for the knife in vain, trying to pin her down with one
+hand while, with desperate little fists, she rained blows on his
+bloodless face that dazed him.
+
+But there was still another way--a much better way, in fact. And, as
+the idea came to him, he ripped the red-silk sash from his breast and,
+in spite of her struggles, managed to pass it around her bare neck.
+
+"Now!" he panted. "I keep my word at last. C'est fini, ma petite
+Nihla."
+
+"Jim! Help me!" she gasped, as Ferez pulled savagely at the silk
+noose, tightened it with all his strength, knotted it. And in that
+same second he heard Westmore crashing through the shrubbery, close to
+him.
+
+Instantly he rose to his knees on the grass; bounded to his feet,
+leaped over the low shrubs, and was off down the slope--gone like a
+swift hawk's shadow on the hillside. Barres was after him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The soul of Thessalie Dunois was very near to its escape, now,
+brightening, glistening within its unconscious chrysalis, stretching
+its glorious limbs and wings; preparing to arise from its spectral
+tenement and soar aloft to its myriad sisters, where they swarmed
+glittering in the zenith.
+
+Had it not been for the knife lying beside her on the grass--the blade
+very bright in the starlight--truly the youthful soul of Thessalie had
+been sped.
+
+At the edge of the Gerhardts' pine woods, Barres, at fault, baffled,
+furious, out of breath and glaring around him in the dark, sullenly
+gave up the hopeless chase, turned in his tracks, and came back.
+Thessalie, lying in Dulcie's arms, unclosed her eyes and looked up at
+him.
+
+"Are you all right?" he asked, kneeling and bending over her.
+
+"Yes ... Jim came."
+
+Westmore's voice was shaky.
+
+"We worked her arms--Dulcie and I--started respiration. She was nearly
+gone. That beast strangled her----"
+
+"I lost him in those woods below. Who was he?"
+
+"Ferez Bey!"
+
+Thessalie sighed, closed her eyes.
+
+"She's about all in," whispered Westmore. And, to Dulcie: "Let me take
+her. I'll carry her to the car."
+
+At that Thessalie opened her eyes again and the old, faintly humorous
+smile glimmered out at him as he stooped and lifted her from the
+grass.
+
+"Can I really trust myself to your arms, Jim?" she murmured.
+
+"You'd better get used to 'em," he retorted. "You'll never get away
+from them again--I can tell you that right now!"
+
+"Oh.... In that case, I hope they'll be--comfortable--your arms."
+
+"Do you think they will be, Thessa?"
+
+"Perhaps." She gazed into his eyes very seriously from where she lay
+cradled in his powerful arms.
+
+"I'm tired, Jim.... So sore and bruised.... When he was choking me I
+tried to think of you--believing it was the end--my last conscious
+thought----"
+
+"My darling!----"
+
+"I'm so tired," she breathed, "so lonely.... I shall be--contented--in
+your arms.... Always----" She turned her head and rested her cheek
+against his breast with a deep sigh.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He held her in his arms in the car all the way to Foreland Farms.
+Dulcie, however, had possessed herself of Thessalie's left hand, and
+when she stroked it and pressed it to her lips the girl's tightening
+fingers responded, and she always smiled.
+
+"I'm just tired and sore," she explained languidly. "Ferez battered me
+about so dreadfully!... It was so mortifying. I despised him all the
+time. It made me furious to be handled by such a contemptible and
+cowardly creature."
+
+"It's a matter for the police, now," remarked Barres gloomily.
+
+"Oh, Garry!" she exclaimed. "What a very horrid ending to the moonlit
+way we took together so long ago!--the lovely silvery path of
+Pierrot!"
+
+"The story of Pierrot is a tragedy, Thessa! We have been luckier on
+our moonlit way."
+
+"Than Pierrot and Pierrette?"
+
+"Yes. Death always saunters along the path of the moon, watching for
+those who take it.... You are very fortunate, Pierrette."
+
+"Yes," she murmured, "I am fortunate.... Am I not, Jim?" she added,
+looking up wistfully into his shadowy face above her.
+
+"I don't know about that," he said, "but there'll be no more moonlight
+business for you unless I'm with you. And under those circumstances,"
+he added, "I'll knock the block off Old Man Death if he tries to flirt
+with you!"
+
+"How brutal! Garry, do you hear his language to me?"
+
+"I hear," said Barres, laughing. "Your young man is a very matter of
+fact young man, Thessa, and I fancy he means what he says."
+
+She looked up at Westmore; her lips barely moved:
+
+"Do you--dear?"
+
+"You bet I do," he whispered. "I'll pull this planet to pieces looking
+for you if you ever again steal away to a rendezvous with Old Man
+Death."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the car arrived at Foreland Farms, Thessalie felt able to proceed
+to her room upon her own legs, and with Dulcie's arm around her.
+
+Westmore bade her good-night, kissing her hand--awkwardly--not being
+convincing in any rôle requiring attitudes.
+
+He wanted to take her into his arms, but seemed to know enough not to
+do it. Probably she divined his irresolute state of mind, for she
+extended her hand in a pretty manner quite unmistakable. And the
+romantic education of James H. Westmore began.
+
+Barres lingered at the door after Westmore departed, obeying a
+whispered aside from Dulcie. She came out in a few moments, carefully
+closing the bedroom door, and stood so, one hand behind her still
+resting on the knob.
+
+"Thessa is crying. It's only the natural relaxation from that horrible
+tension. I shall sleep with her to-night."
+
+"Is there anything----"
+
+"Oh, no. She will be all right.... Garry, are they--are they--in
+_love_?"
+
+"It rather looks that way, doesn't it?" he said, smiling.
+
+She gazed at him questioningly, almost fearfully.
+
+"Do _you_ believe that Thessa is in love with Mr. Westmore?" she
+whispered.
+
+"Yes, I do. Don't you?"
+
+"I didn't know.... I thought so. But----"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"I didn't--didn't know--what you would think of it.... I was afraid it
+might--might make you--unhappy."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Don't you _care_ if Thessa loves somebody else?" she asked
+breathlessly.
+
+"Did you think I did, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I don't."
+
+There was a strained silence; then the girl smiled at him in a
+confused manner, drew a swift, sudden breath, and, as he stepped
+forward to detain her, turned sharply away, pressing her forearm
+across her eyes.
+
+"Dulcie! Did you understand me?" he said in a low, unsteady voice.
+
+She was already trying to open the door, but he dropped his right hand
+over her fingers where they were fumbling with the knob, and felt them
+trembling. At the same moment, the sound of Thessalie's smothered and
+convulsive sobbing came to him; and Dulcie's nervous hand slipped from
+his.
+
+"Dulcie!" he pleaded. "Will you come back to me if I wait?"
+
+She had stopped; her back was still toward him, but she nodded
+slightly, then moved on toward the bed, where Thessalie lay all
+huddled up, her face buried in the tumbled pillows.
+
+Barres noiselessly closed the door.
+
+He had already started along the corridor toward his own room, when
+the low sound of voices in the staircase hall just below arrested his
+attention--his sister's voice and Westmore's. And he retraced his
+steps and went down to where they stood together by the library door.
+
+Lee wore a nurse's dress and apron, such as a kennel-mistress affects,
+and her strong, capable hands were full of bottles labelled "Grover's
+Specific"--the same being dog medicine of various sorts.
+
+"Mother is over at the kennels, Garry," she said. "She and I are going
+to sit up with those desperately sick pups. If we can pull them
+through to-night they'll probably get well, eventually, unless
+paralysis sets in. I was just telling Jim that a very attractive young
+Frenchman was here only a few minutes before you arrived. His name is
+Renoux. And he left this letter for you--fish it out of my apron
+pocket, there's a dear----"
+
+Her brother drew out the letter; his sister said:
+
+"Mr. Renoux went away in a car with two other men. He asked me to say
+to you that there was no time to lose--whatever he meant by that! Now,
+I must hurry away!" She turned and sped through the hall and out
+through the swinging screen door on the north porch. Garry had
+already opened the note from Renoux, glanced over it; then he read it
+aloud to Westmore:
+
+  "MY DEAR COMRADE:
+
+  "The fat's in the fire! Your agents took Tauscher in charge
+  to-day. Max Freund and Franz Lehr have just been arrested by your
+  excellent Postal authorities. Warrants are out for Sendelbeck,
+  Johann Klein, and Louis Hochstein. I think the latter are making
+  for Mexico, but your Secret Service people are close on their
+  heels.
+
+  "Recall for von Papen and Boy-ed is certain to be demanded by your
+  Government. Mine will look after Bolo Effendi and d'Eblis and
+  their international gang of spies and crooks. Ferez Bey, however,
+  still eludes us. He is somewhere in this vicinity, but of course,
+  even when we locate him again, we can't touch him. All we can do
+  is to point him out to your Government agents, who will then keep
+  him in sight.
+
+  "So far so good. But now I am forced to ask a very great favour of
+  you, and, if I may, of your friend, Mr. Westmore. It is this:
+  Skeel, contrary to what was expected of him, did not go to the
+  place which is being watched. Nor have any of his men appeared at
+  that rendezvous where there lies the very swift and well-armed
+  launch, _Togue Rouge_, which we had every reason to suppose was to
+  be their craft in this outrageous affair.
+
+  "As a matter of fact, this launch is Tauscher's. But it, and the
+  pretended rendezvous, are what you call a plant. Skeel never
+  intended to assemble his men there; never intended to use that
+  particular launch. Tauscher merely planted it. Your men and the
+  Canadian agents, unfortunately, are covering that vicinity and are
+  still watching for Skeel, who has a very different plan in his
+  crazy head.
+
+  "Now, this is Skeel's plan, and this is the situation, learned by
+  me from papers discovered on Tauscher:
+
+  "The explosives bought and sent there by Tauscher himself are on a
+  big, fast power-boat which is lying at anchor in a little cove
+  called Saibling Bay. The boat flies the Quebec Yacht Club ensign,
+  and a private pennant to which it has no right.
+
+  "Two of Skeel's gang are already aboard--a man named Con McDermott
+  and another, Kelly Walsh. Skeel joins the others at a hamlet near
+  the Lake shore, known as Three Ponds. The tavern is a notorious
+  and disreputable old brick hotel--what you call a speak-easy. That
+  is their rendezvous.
+
+  "Well, then, I have wired to your people, to Canada, to
+  Washington. But Three Ponds is not a very long drive from here, if
+  one ignores speed limits. Yes? Could you help us maintain a close
+  surveillance over that damned tavern to-night? Is it too much to
+  ask?
+
+  "And if you and Mr. Westmore are graciously inclined to aid us,
+  would you be so kind as to come armed? Because, mon ami, unless
+  your Government people arrive in time, I shall certainly try to
+  keep Skeel and his gang from boarding that boat.
+
+  "Au revoir, donc! I am off with Jacques Alost and Emile Souchez
+  for that charming summer resort, the Three Ponds Tavern, where,
+  from the neighbouring roadside woods, I shall hope to flag your
+  automobile by sunrise and welcome you and your amiable friend, Mr.
+  Westmore, as our brothers in arms.
+
+  "RENOUX, your comrade and, friend."
+
+There was a silence. Then Westmore looked at his watch.
+
+"We ought to hustle," he remarked. "I'll get on some knickers and
+stick a couple of guns in my pocket. You'd better telephone to the
+garage."
+
+As they hastened up the stairs together, Barres said: "Have I time for
+a word with Dulcie?"
+
+"That's up to you. I'm not going to say anything to Thessa. I wouldn't
+care to miss this affair. If we arrived too late and they had already
+dynamited the Welland Canal, we'd never forgive ourselves."
+
+Barres ran for his room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were dressed, armed and driving out of the Foreland Farms gates
+inside of ten minutes. Barres had the wheel; Westmore sat beside him
+shoving new clips into two automatics and dividing the remaining boxes
+of ammunition.
+
+"The crazy devils," he said to Barres, raising his voice to make
+himself heard. "Blow up the Canal, will they! What's the matter with
+these Irishmen! The rest are not like 'em. Look at the Flanders
+fighting, Garry! Look at the magnificent record of the Irish
+regiments! Why don't our Irish play the game?"
+
+"It's their blind hatred of England," shouted Barres, in his ear.
+"They're monomaniacs. They can't see anything else--can't see what
+they're doing to civilisation--cutting the very throat of Liberty
+every time they jab at England. What's the use? You can't talk to
+them. They're lunatics. But when they start things over here they've
+got to be put into straitjackets."
+
+"They _are_ lunatics," repeated Westmore. "If they weren't, they
+wouldn't risk the wholesale murder of women and children. That is a
+purely German peculiarity; it's what the normal boche delights in. But
+the Irish are white men. And it's only when they're crazy they'd try a
+thing like this."
+
+After a long silence:
+
+"How fast, Garry?"
+
+"Around fifty."
+
+"How far is it?"
+
+"About twenty-five miles further."
+
+The car rushed on through the night under the brilliant July stars and
+over a perfect road. In the hollows, where spring brooks ran under
+stone bridges, a slight, chilling mist hung, but otherwise the night
+was clear and warm.
+
+Woods, fields, farms, streamed by in the darkness; the car tore on in
+the wake of its glaring, golden headlights, where clouds of little
+winged creatures of the night whirled and eddied like flecks of
+tinsel.
+
+Rarely they encountered other cars, for the hour was late, and there
+were no lights in the farm houses which they passed along the road.
+
+They spoke seldom now, their terrific speed and the roaring wind
+discouraging conversation. But the night air, which they whipped into
+a steadily flowing gale, was still soft and fragrant and warm; and
+with every mile their exhilaration increased.
+
+Now the eastern horizon, which had already paled to a leaden tone, was
+becoming pallid; and few stars were visible except directly overhead.
+
+Barres slowed down to twenty miles. Long double barriers of dense and
+misty woodland flanked the road on either hand, with few cultivated
+fields between and very rarely a ramshackle barn.
+
+Acres of alder swamp spread away on either hand, set with swale and
+pool and tussock. And across the flat desolation the east was all a
+saffron glow now, and the fish-crows were flying in twos and threes
+above the bog holes.
+
+"There's a man in the road ahead," said Westmore.
+
+"I see him."
+
+The man threw up one arm in signal, then made a sweeping gesture
+indicating that they should turn to the left. The man was Renoux.
+
+"A cart-track and a pair of bars," said Westmore. "Their car has been
+in there, too. You can see the tire marks."
+
+Renoux sprang onto the running board without a word.
+
+Barres steered his car very gingerly in through the bars and along the
+edge of the woods where, presently, the swampy cart-track turned to
+the right among the trees.
+
+"All right!" said Renoux briskly, dropping to the ground. He shook
+hands with the two new arrivals, passed one arm under each of theirs,
+and led them forward along a wet, ferny road toward a hardwood ridge.
+
+Here Souchez and Alost, who lay full length on the dead leaves, got
+up, to welcome the reinforcements, and to point out the disreputable
+old brick building which stood close to the further edge of the woods,
+rear end toward them, and fronting on a rutty crossroad beyond.
+
+"Are we in time?" inquired Barres in a low voice.
+
+"Plenty," said Renoux with a shrug. "They've been making a night of it
+in there. They're at it yet. Listen!"
+
+Even at that distance the sound of revelry was audible--shouts,
+laughter, cheering, boisterous singing.
+
+"Skeel is there," remarked Renoux, "and I fancy he's an anxious man.
+They ought to have been out of that house before dawn to escape
+observation, but I imagine Skeel has an unruly gang to deal with in
+those reckless Irishmen."
+
+Barres and Westmore peered out through the fringe of trees across the
+somewhat desolate landscape beyond.
+
+There were no houses to be seen. Here and there on the bogs were
+stakes of swale-hay and a gaunt tree or two.
+
+"That brick hotel," said Renoux, "is one of those places outside town
+limits, where law is defied and license straddles the line. It's run
+by McDermott, one of the two men aboard the power-boat."
+
+"Where is their boat?" inquired Westmore.
+
+Renoux turned and pointed to the southwest.
+
+"Over there in a cove--about a mile south of us. If they leave the
+tavern we can get to the boat first and block their road."
+
+"We'll be between two fires then," observed Barres, "from the boat's
+deck and from Skeel's gang."
+
+Renoux nodded coolly:
+
+"Two on the boat and five in the hotel make seven. We are five."
+
+"Then we can hold them," said Westmore.
+
+"That's all I want," rejoined Renoux briskly. "I just want to check
+them and hold them until your Government can send its agents here. I
+know I have no business to do this--probably I'll get into trouble.
+But I can't sit still and twirl my thumbs while people blow up a canal
+belonging to an ally of France, can I?"
+
+"Hark!" motioned Barres. "They're singing! Poor devils. They're like
+Cree Indians singing their death song."
+
+"I suppose," said Westmore sombrely, "that deep in each man's heart
+there remains a glimmer of hope that he, at least, may come out of
+it."
+
+Renoux shrugged:
+
+"Perhaps. But they are brave, these Irish--brave enough without a
+skinful of whiskey. And with it they are entirely reckless. No sane
+man can foretell what they will attempt." He turned to include Alost
+and Souchez: "I think there can be only one plan of action for us,
+gentlemen. We should string out here along the edges of the woods.
+When they leave the tavern we should run for the landing and get into
+the shack that stands there--a rickety sort of boat-house on piles,"
+he explained to Westmore and Barres. "There is the path through the
+woods." He pointed to the left, where a trodden way bisected the
+wood-road. "It runs straight to the landing," he added.
+
+Alost, at a sign from him, started off westward through the woods.
+Souchez followed. Renoux leaned back against a big walnut tree and
+signified that he would remain there.
+
+So Barres and Westmore moved forward to the right, very cautiously,
+circling the rear of the old brick hotel where a line of ruined
+horse-sheds and a rickety barn screened them from view of the hotel's
+south windows.
+
+So close to the tavern did they pass that they could hear the noisy
+singing very distinctly and see through the open windows the movement
+of shadowy figures under the paling light of a ceiling lamp.
+
+Westmore ventured nearer in hopes of getting a better view from the
+horse-sheds; and Barres crept after him through the rank growth of
+swale and weeds.
+
+"Look at them!" whispered Westmore. "They're in a sort of uniform,
+aren't they?"
+
+"They've got on green jackets and stable-caps! Do you see that stack
+of rifles in the corner of the tap-room?"
+
+"There's Skeel!" muttered Westmore, "the man in the long cloak sitting
+by the fireplace with his face buried in his hands!"
+
+"He looks utterly done in," whispered Barres. "Probably he can't
+manage that gang and he begins to realise it. Hark! You can hear every
+word of that thing they're singing."
+
+Every word, indeed, was a yell or a shout, and distinct enough at
+that. They were roaring out "Green Jackets":
+
+  "_Oh, Irish maids love none but those
+  Who wear the jackets green!_"
+
+--all lolling and carousing around a slopping wet table--all save
+Murtagh Skeel, who, seated near the empty fireplace with his white
+face buried between his fingers, never stirred from his attitude of
+stony immobility.
+
+"There's Soane!" whispered Barres, "that man who just got up!"
+
+It was Soane, his cap cocked aslant on his curly head, his green
+jacket unbuttoned, a tumbler aloft in his unsteady clutch.
+
+"Whurroo!" he yelled. "_Gu ma slan a chi mi!--fear a' Bhata!_" And he
+laid a reckless hand on Skeel's cloaked shoulder. But the latter never
+stirred; and Soane, winking at the company, flourished his tumbler
+aloft and broke into "The Risin' o' the Moon":
+
+  "Oh, then tell me, Shawn O'Ferrall,
+  Phwere the gatherin' is to be!
+    In th' ould shpot be the river;--
+  Sure it's known to you an' me!"
+
+And the others began to shout the words:
+
+  "_Death to every foe and traitor!
+  Forward! Strike the marchin' tune,
+    And hurrah, me lads, for freedom!
+  'Tis the risin' of the moon!_
+
+  "At the risin' of the moon,
+    At the risin' of the moon,
+  And a thousand blades are flashin'
+  At the risin' of the moon!"
+
+"Here's to Murtagh Skeel!" roared Soane, "_An gille dubh ciardubh!_
+Whurroo!"
+
+Skeel lifted his haggard visage, slowly looked around, got up from his
+stool.
+
+"In God's name," he said hoarsely, "if you're not utterly shameless,
+take your rifles and follow me. Look at the sun! Have you lads gone
+stark mad? What will McDermott think? What will Kelly Walsh say? It's
+too late to weigh anchor now; but it isn't too late to go aboard and
+sober up, and wait for dark.
+
+"If you've a rag of patriotism left you'll quit your drinking and come
+with me!"
+
+"Ah, sure, then, Captain dear," cried Soane, "is there anny harrm in a
+bite an' a sup f'r dyin' lads befoor they go whizzin' up to glory?"
+
+"I tell you we should be aboard! _Now!_"
+
+Another said:
+
+"Aw, the cap's right. To hell with the booze. Come on, youse!" And he
+began to button his green jacket. Another got up on unsteady legs:
+
+"Sure," he said, "there do be time f'r to up anchor an' shquare away
+for Point Dalhousie. Phwat's interferin', I dunno."
+
+"A Canadian cruiser," said Skeel with dry bitterness. "Get aboard,
+anyway. We'll have to wait for dark."
+
+There was a reluctant shuffle of feet, a careless adjusting of green
+jackets and caps, a reaching for rifles.
+
+"Come on," whispered Barres, "we've got to get to the landing before
+they do."
+
+They turned and moved off swiftly among the trees. Renoux saw them
+coming, understood, turned and hurried southward to warn Alost and
+Souchez. Barres and Westmore caught glimpses of them ahead, striding
+along the trodden path under the trees, and ran to overtake them.
+
+"They're going aboard," said Barres to Renoux. "But they will
+probably wait till dark before starting."
+
+"They will unless they're stark mad," said Renoux, hurrying out to the
+southern borders of the wood. But no sooner had he arrived on the edge
+of the open swale country than he uttered an exclamation of rage and
+disgust, and threw up his hands helplessly.
+
+It was perfectly plain to the others what was happening--and what now
+could not be prevented.
+
+There lay the big, swift power boat, still at anchor; there stood the
+ramshackle wharf and boat-house. But already a boat had put off from
+the larger craft and was being rowed parallel with the shore toward
+the mouth of a marshy creek.
+
+Two men were rowing; a third steered.
+
+But what had suddenly upset Renoux was the sight of a line of green
+jackets threading the marsh to the north, led by Skeel, who was
+already exchanging handkerchief signals with the men in the boat.
+
+Renoux glanced at his prey escaping by an avenue of which he had no
+previous knowledge. It was death to go out into the open with pistols
+and face the fire of half a dozen rifles. No man there had any
+delusions concerning that.
+
+Souchez had field-glasses slung around his neck. Renoux took them,
+gazed at the receding boat, set his teeth hard.
+
+"Ferez!" he growled.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Westmore, turning a violent red.
+
+"The man steering is Ferez Bey." Renoux handed the binoculars to
+Westmore with a shrug.
+
+Barres, bending double, had gone out into the swale. A thicket of
+cat-tails screened him and he advanced very carefully, keeping his
+eyes on the green-jacketed men whose heads, shoulders and rifles were
+visible above the swampy growth beyond.
+
+Suddenly Renoux, who was watching him in bitter silence, saw him turn
+and beckon violently.
+
+"Quick!" he said in a low, eager voice. "He may have found a ditch to
+shelter us!"
+
+Renoux was correct in his surmise: Barres stood with drawn pistol,
+awaiting them in a muddy ditch which ran through the reeds diagonally
+across the marsh. It was shin-deep in water.
+
+"We could make a pretty good stand in a ditch like this, couldn't we?"
+he demanded excitedly.
+
+"You bet we can!" replied Renoux, jumping down beside him, followed by
+Westmore, Alost and Souchez in turn.
+
+Barres, leading, ran down the ditch as fast as he could, spattering
+himself and the others with mud and water at every step.
+
+"Here!" panted Renoux, clambering nimbly out of the ditch and peering
+ahead through the reeds. Then he suddenly stood upright:
+
+"Halt!" he shouted. "It's all up with you, Skeel! Keep away from that
+boat, or I order my men to fire!"
+
+There was a dead silence for a moment; then Skeel's voice:
+
+"Better not bother us, my good man. We know our business and you'd
+better learn yours."
+
+"Skeel," retorted Renoux, "my business is other people's business,
+sometimes. It's yours just now. I warn you to keep away from that
+boat!" He turned and hailed the boat in the next breath: "Boat ahoy!
+Keep off or we open fire!"
+
+The metallic bang of a rifle cut him short and his straw hat was
+jerked from his head. Then came Skeel's voice, calmly dangerous:
+
+"I know you, Renoux! You have no standing here. Keep away or I'll kill
+you!"
+
+"What lawful standing have you--leading an armed expedition from the
+United States into Canada!" retorted Renoux, red with anger and
+looking about for his hat.
+
+"If you don't get back I shall surely kill you!" replied Skeel. "I
+count three, Renoux:--one--two--three." Bang! went another rifle, and
+Renoux shrugged and dropped reluctantly back into the ditch.
+
+"They're crazy," he said. "Barres, fire across that boat out yonder."
+
+Westmore also fired, aiming carefully at Ferez. It was too far; they
+both knew it. But the ricochetting bullets seemed to sting the rowers
+to frantic exertion, and Ferez, at the rudder, ducked and squatted
+flat, the tip of his hat alone showing over the gunwale.
+
+"We can't stop them," said Renoux desperately. "They're certain to
+reach that boat."
+
+Now, suddenly, Skeel's six rifles cracked viciously and the bullets
+came screaming over the ditch.
+
+Renoux fairly gnashed his teeth:
+
+"If a bluff won't stop them, then I'm through," he said bitterly. "I
+haven't any authority. I haven't the audacity to fire on them--to so
+insult your Government. And yet, by God!--there's the canal to
+remember!"
+
+Another volley from the Green Jackets, and again the whizzing scream
+of bullets through the cat-tails above their heads.
+
+"Look!" cried Barres. "They're embarking already! There isn't a chance
+of holding them."
+
+It was true. Pell-mell through the shallow water and into the boat
+leaped the Green Jackets, holding their rifles high in the early
+sunshine; Skeel sprang in last of all; the oars flashed.
+
+Pistols hanging helplessly, Renoux and his men stood there foolishly
+on the edge of their ditch and watched the boat pull back to the big
+power-craft.
+
+Nobody said anything. The Green Jackets climbed aboard with a derisive
+cheer. So near was the power-boat that Skeel, Ferez, and Soane were
+easily distinguishable there in the brilliant sunshine, on deck.
+
+"Anyway," burst out Renoux, "they'll not dare lie there at anchor and
+wait for dark, now."
+
+Even as he spoke the anchor came up.
+
+Very deliberately the small boat was hoisted to the davits; the big
+craft began to move, swinging her nose north by west, the spray
+breaking under the bows. She was already under way, already headed for
+the open sea.
+
+And then, without any warning whatever, out of the northeast, almost
+sheering the jutting point which had concealed her, rushed a Canadian
+patrol boat, her forward deck a geyser of spouting foam.
+
+A red lance of flame leaped from her forward gun; the sharp crack
+shattered the summer stillness; the shell went skittering away over
+the water, across the bows of the power-boat; a string of signals
+broke from the cruiser's mast.
+
+Then an amazing thing happened; the power-boat's after deck suddenly
+swarmed with Green Jackets; there came a flash and a report, and a
+shell burst over the Canadian patrol cruiser, cutting her halliards to
+ribbons.
+
+"Well--by--God!" gasped Renoux. Barres and Westmore stood petrified;
+but the three Frenchmen, with one accord, and standing up very
+straight, uncovered in the presence of these men who were about to
+die.
+
+Suddenly the power-boat broke out a flag at her masthead--a bright
+green flag bearing a golden harp.
+
+Again the small gun flashed from her after-deck; another gun spoke
+with a splitting report from the starboard bow; both the shells
+exploded close to the patrol cruiser, showering her superstructure
+with steel fragments.
+
+And, as the concussions subsided, and the landward echoes of the shots
+died away, far and clear from the power-boat's decks, across the
+water, came the defiant chorus:
+
+    "I saw the Shannon's purple tide
+    Roll by the Irish town,
+  As I stood in the breach by Donal's side
+  When England's flag went down!--"
+
+They were singing "Green Jackets," these doomed men. Barres could hear
+them cheering, too, for a moment only--then every gun aboard the
+flimsy little craft spat flame at the big Canadian, and the bursting
+shells splashed the water all around her with their pigmy fragments.
+
+Now, from the cruiser, a single gun bellowed. Instantly a red glare
+wrapped the launch; there was a heavy report, a fountain of rushing
+smoke and debris.
+
+Against the infernal flare of light Skeel's tall figure showed in
+silhouette, standing there with hat lifted as though cheering. Again,
+from the cruiser, a gun crashed. Where the burning launch had been a
+horrible flare shot up; and the shocking detonation rocked land and
+sky. On the water a vast black cloud rested, almost motionless; and
+all around rained charred things that had been wood and steel and
+clothing, perhaps--perhaps fragments of living creatures.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So passed into eternity Murtagh Skeel and his Green Jackets, hurled
+skyward in the twinkling of an eye on the roaring blast of their own
+magazine. What was left of their green flag attained an altitude
+unparalleled that sunny morning. But their souls soared higher into
+that blinding light which makes all things clear at last, solves all
+questions, all perplexities--which consoles all griefs and quiets at
+last the bitter mirth of those who have laughed at Death for
+conscience's sake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Very slowly the dull cloud lifted from the sunlit water. Dead fish
+floated there; others, half-stunned, lay awash with fins quivering, or
+strove to turn over, shining silver white in the morning sun.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+ASTHORE
+
+
+The sun hung low over Northbrook hills as Barres turned his touring
+car in between the high, white service gates of Foreland Farms, swung
+around the oval and backed into the garage.
+
+Barres senior, very trim in tweeds, the web-straps of a creel and a
+fly-book wallet crossing his breast, glanced up from his absorbing
+occupation of preparing evening casts on a twelve-foot, tapered
+mist-leader.
+
+"Hello," he said absently, glancing from his son to Westmore through
+his monocle, "where have you been keeping yourselves all day?"
+
+"I'll tell you all about it later, dad," said Garry, emerging from the
+garage with Westmore. "Where is mother?"
+
+"In the kennels, I believe.... What do you think of this cast, Jim?--a
+whirling dun for a dropper, a hare's ear for a----" He checked
+himself; glanced doubtfully at the two young men.
+
+"You're somewhat muddy," he remarked; and continued to explore his
+fly-book for new combinations.
+
+Westmore, very weary, started for the house; Garry walked across to
+the kennel gate, let himself in among a dozen segregated and very
+demonstrative English setters, walked along the tree-bordered alley
+behind the garage, and, shutting out the affectionate but quarantined
+dogs, entered the kennels.
+
+His mother, in smock and apron, and wearing rubber gloves, was seated
+on the edge of a straw-littered bunk, a bottle in one hand, a
+medicine-dropper in the other. Her four-footed patient, swathed in
+blankets, lay on the straw beside her.
+
+"Well, dear," she said, looking up at her son, "where have you been
+all night, and most of to-day?"
+
+"I'll tell you about it later, mother. There's something else I want
+to ask you----" He fell silent, watching her measure out fourteen
+drops of Grover's Specific for distemper.
+
+"I'm listening, Garry," she said, bending over the sick pup and gently
+forcing open his feverish jaws. Then she dropped her medicine far back
+on his tongue; the pup gulped, sneezed, looked at her out of dull eyes
+and feebly wagged his tail.
+
+"I'm going to pull him through, Garry," she said. "The other pups are
+doing well, too. But your sister and I were up with them all night. I
+only hope and pray that the distemper doesn't spread."
+
+She looked up at her son:
+
+"Well, dear, what is it you have to ask me?"
+
+"Mother, do you like Dulcie Soane?"
+
+"I scarcely know her yet.... She's very sweet--very young----"
+
+"Do you like her?"
+
+"Why--yes----" She looked intently at her tall, unsmiling son. "But I
+don't even know who she is, Garry."
+
+Her son bent down beside her and put one arm around her shoulder. She
+sat quite motionless with the bottle of Grover's Specific in one
+rubber-gloved hand, the medicine dropper poised in the other.
+
+He said:
+
+"Dulcie's name is Fane, not Soane. Her grandfather was Sir Barry
+Fane, of Fane Court--an Irishman. His daughter, Eileen, was Dulcie's
+mother.... Her father--is dead--I believe."
+
+"But--this explains nothing, Garry."
+
+"Is it not explanation enough, mother?"
+
+"Is it enough for you, my son?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Her head slowly drooped. She sat gazing in silence at the straw-littered
+floor.
+
+He looked earnestly, anxiously at his mother's face. Her brooding
+expression remained tranquil but inscrutable.
+
+He said, watching her intently:
+
+"I wasn't sure about myself until last night. I don't know about
+Dulcie, whether she can care for me--in this new way.... We were
+friends. But I am in love with her now.... Deeply."
+
+It was one of the moments in his career which remain fixed forever in
+a young man's memory.
+
+In a mother's memory, too. Whatever she says and does then, he never
+forgets. She, too, remembers always.
+
+He stood leaning over her in the dim light of the kennel, one arm
+around her shoulders, waiting. And presently she lifted her head,
+looked him quietly in the eyes, bent forward very gently, and kissed
+him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was not in the house, nor was Thessalie.
+
+Barres and Westmore exchanged conversation between their open doors
+while bathing and dressing.
+
+"You know, Garry," admitted the latter, "I feel all shaken up, yet,
+over that ghastly business."
+
+"So do I.... If they hadn't died so gamely.... But Skeel was a
+_man_!"
+
+"You bet he was, crazy or sane!... What a pity!... And that poor
+devil, Soane! Did you hear them cheering there, at the last? And what
+superb nerve--breaking out that green flag!"
+
+"And think of their opening on that big patrol boat! They hadn't a
+chance."
+
+"They had no chance anyway," said Westmore. "It meant execution if
+they surrendered--at least, they probably thought so. But how do you
+suppose that cowardly strangler, Ferez, felt when he realised that
+Skeel was going to fight?"
+
+"He certainly got what was coming to him, didn't he?" said Barres
+grimly. "You'll tell Thessa, won't you?"
+
+"As soon as I can find her," nodded Westmore, giving his fresh bow-tie
+a most killing twist.
+
+He was ready before Barres was, and he lost no time in starting out to
+find Thessalie.
+
+Barres, following him later, discovered him on the library lounge with
+Thessalie's fair cheek resting against his.
+
+"I'm s-sorry!" he stammered, backing out, and very conscious of
+Westmore's unconcealed annoyance. But Thessalie called to him in a
+perfectly calm voice, and he ventured to come back.
+
+"Are you going to tell Dulcie about this horrible affair?" she asked.
+
+"Not immediately.... Are you feeling all right, Thessa?"
+
+"Yes. I had a horrid night. Isn't it odd how a girl can so completely
+lose her nerve after a thing is all over?"
+
+"That's the best time to lose it," said Westmore. And to Barres:
+"She's bruised from head to foot and her neck hurts yet----"
+
+"It is nothing," murmured Thessalie, looking smilingly at her lover.
+Then they both glanced at Barres.
+
+There was a silence. Side by side on the library lounge they continued
+to gaze expectantly at Barres. And when he got it into his head that
+this polite expectancy might express their desire for his early
+departure, he backed out again, embarrassed and slightly irritated.
+
+Thessalie called to him very sweetly:
+
+"If you are looking for Dulcie, I left her a few minutes ago over by
+the wall-fountain in the rose arbour."
+
+"Thanks," he said, and turned back through the hall, traversing it to
+the north veranda.
+
+There was no sign of Dulcie in the garden or on the lawn. He walked
+slowly across the clipped grass, beyond the pool, and, turning to the
+right past a sun-dial, stepped into the long rose-arbour. At the
+further end of the blossoming tunnel he saw her seated on the low wall
+in the rear of the tea-house. Her head was turned toward the woods
+beyond.
+
+When he was near her she heard him and looked around, was on the point
+of rising, but something in his expression held her motionless.
+
+"Where have you been, Garry?"
+
+He ignored the question, seated himself beside her on the wall, and
+drew both her hands into his. He saw the swift colour stain her face,
+the lovely, disconcerted eyes lower.
+
+"Last night," he said, "did you come back as you promised?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you found me gone."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"What could you have thought of me, Dulcie?"
+
+"I--my thoughts were--not very clear."
+
+"Are they clearer?"
+
+Her head remained lowered but she raised her grey eyes to his. Her
+face had become very still and white.
+
+"Dulcie," he said under his breath, "I am in love with you.... What
+will you do about it?"
+
+And, after a little while:
+
+"W-what shall I do, Garry?" she whispered.
+
+"Love me. Can you?"
+
+She remained silent.
+
+"Will you?--Dulcie Fane!"
+
+Her lips stirred, but no sound came.
+
+"You are so wonderful," he said. "I am just realising that I began to
+fall in love with you a long time ago."
+
+The declining sun sent a red shaft across the fields, painting every
+tree-trunk, gilding bramble and brake. A single ray touched the girl's
+white neck and turned her copper-tinted hair to burning gold.
+
+"Do you love me? Can you love me, that way, Dulcie?"
+
+She rose abruptly, and he rose too, retaining her hands; but as she
+turned her head from him he saw her mouth quiver.
+
+"Dearest--dearest!" But she interrupted him:
+
+"I want to tell you--that I don't understand why I should be called by
+my mother's maiden name.... I w-want you to know that I _don't_
+understand it ... if that would make a difference--in your c-caring
+for me.... And I wish you to know that--that I love and worship her
+memory--and that I am happy and proud--and _proud_--to bear her
+name."
+
+"My darling----"
+
+"Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Dulcie."
+
+"And do you still want me?"
+
+"You adorable child----"
+
+"_Do_ you?"
+
+"Of course I do----" He caught her in his arms, held her close, lifted
+her flushed face. "Now, tell me whether you can love _me_! Tell me
+everything that's hidden in your mind and heart!"
+
+"Oh, Garry," she faltered, "I do belong to you. I belong to you
+anyway, because you made me. And I've always been in love with
+you--always!--always from the very beginning of the world, _Asthore_!
+And now--if you want me--this way--Garry _mo veel asthore_----" Her
+hands crept from his breast to his shoulders; stole up around his
+neck. "Asthore," she murmured; and their lips met in their first kiss.
+Then she gravely turned her head and laid her cheek against his; and
+he heard her murmuring to herself:
+
+"_Drahareen o machree, mo veel asthore!_ This man--this man who takes
+my heart--and gives me his...."
+
+"What are you murmuring there all to yourself?" he whispered, laughing
+and drawing her closer. But she only clung to him passionately and her
+closed lids kept back the starting tears.
+
+"What is it, dear?" he asked.
+
+"H-happiness," she whispered, "and pride, perhaps.... And my love for
+you, Asthore!"
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOONLIT WAY***
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+
+    .caption          {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;}
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+    p.center          {text-align: center !important;}
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+</head>
+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Moonlit Way, by Robert W. Chambers,
+Illustrated by A. I. Keller</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: The Moonlit Way</p>
+<p>Author: Robert W. Chambers</p>
+<p>Release Date: August 28, 2010  [eBook #33557]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOONLIT WAY***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Katherine Ward, Darleen Dove, Roger Frank,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<h1><i>The</i><br />
+MOONLIT WAY</h1>
+<p class='larger'><i>A Novel</i></p>
+<p class='larger padtop'>BY<br />
+ROBERT W. CHAMBERS</p>
+<p class='smaller'>AUTHOR OF<br />
+&#8220;THE COMMON LAW,&#8221; &#8220;THE FIGHTING CHANCE,&#8221; ETC.</p>
+<p class='smaller'>ILLUSTRATED BY<br />
+A. I. KELLER</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class='padtop'>D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br />
+NEW YORK&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;LONDON<br />
+<span class='center'>1919</span></p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<div class='figtag'>
+<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a>
+</div>
+<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' id='coverpage' width='389' height='500' />
+<br />
+<p class='caption'>
+HIS STRAINED GAZE SOUGHT TO FIX ITSELF ON THIS FACE&mdash;(<a href='#page_325'>PAGE 325</a>)<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<p class='padtop'><span class='smcap'>Copyright, 1919, by</span><br />
+ROBERT W. CHAMBERS</p>
+<p><span class='smcap'>Copyright, 1918, 1919, by the</span><br />
+INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE CO.</p>
+<p class='smaller padtop'><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<p><span class='smcaplc'>TO</span><br />
+MY FRIEND<br />
+<span class='larger'>FRANK HITCHCOCK</span></p>
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'>
+<a name='CONTENTS' id='CONTENTS'></a>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td />
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Prologue&mdash;Claire-de-Lune</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#PROLOGUE_CLAIREDELUNE'>1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Shadow Dance</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_A_SHADOW_DANCE'>19</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Sunrise</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_SUNRISE'>28</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Sunset</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_SUNSET'>39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Dusk</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_DUSK'>46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>In Dragon Court</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_IN_DRAGON_COURT'>57</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Dulcie</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_DULCIE'>78</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Opportunity Knocks</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_OPPORTUNITY_KNOCKS'>87</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Dulcie Answers</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_DULCIE_ANSWERS'>102</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Her Day</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_HER_DAY'>109</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Her Evening</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_HER_EVENING'>123</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Her Night</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_HER_NIGHT'>131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Last Mail</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_THE_LAST_MAIL'>155</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Midnight Tête-à-Tête</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_A_MIDNIGHT_TTETTE'>170</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Problems</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_PROBLEMS'>186</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Blackmail</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_BLACKMAIL'>194</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Watcher</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_THE_WATCHER'>205</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Conference</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_A_CONFERENCE'>216</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Babbler</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_THE_BABBLER'>233</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Chance Encounter</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_A_CHANCE_ENCOUNTER'>249</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Grogan&#8217;s</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_GROGANS'>265</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The White Blackbird</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_THE_WHITE_BLACKBIRD'>278</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Foreland Farms</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_FORELAND_FARMS'>292</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Lion in the Path</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_A_LION_IN_THE_PATH'>312</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Silent House</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_A_SILENT_HOUSE'>328</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Starlight</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_STARLIGHT'>339</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>&#8217;Be-N Eirinn I!</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_BEN_EIRINN_I'>349</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Moonlit Way</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_THE_MOONLIT_WAY'>366</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Green Jackets</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_GREEN_JACKETS'>385</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Asthore</span></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX_ASTHORE'>407</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'>
+<a name='LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS' id='LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS'></a>
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+</div>
+<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<col style='width:75%;' />
+<col style='width:25%;' />
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>His strained gaze sought to fix itself on this face before him</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>Nihla put her feathered steed through its absurd paces</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>8</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>&#8220;You little miracle!&#8221;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>100</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'>He came toward her stealthily</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>382</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='center padtop adbox'>
+<p><span class="larger center">Novels By Robert W. Chambers</span></p>
+<p class='lalign'>The Laughing Girl<br />
+The Restless Sex<br />
+Barbarians<br />
+The Dark Star<br />
+The Girl Philippa<br />
+Who Goes There!<br />
+Athalie<br />
+The Business of Life<br />
+The Gay Rebellion<br />
+The Streets of Ascalon<br />
+The Common Law<br />
+The Fighting Chance<br />
+The Younger Set<br />
+The Danger Mark<br />
+The Firing Line<br />
+Japonette<br />
+Quick Action<br />
+The Adventures of A Modest Man<br />
+Anne&#8217;s Bridge<br />
+Between Friends<br />
+The Better Man<br />
+Police!!!<br />
+Some Ladies in Haste<br />
+The Tree of Heaven<br />
+The Tracer of Lost Persons<br />
+The Hidden Children<br />
+The Moonlit Way<br />
+Cardigan<br />
+The Reckoning<br />
+The Maid-at-Arms<br />
+Ailsa Paige<br />
+Special Messenger<br />
+The Haunts of Men<br />
+Lorraine<br />
+Maids of Paradise<br />
+Ashes of Empire<br />
+The Red Republic<br />
+Blue-Bird Weather<br />
+A Young Man in a Hurry<br />
+The Green Mouse<br />
+Iole<br />
+The Mystery of Choice<br />
+The Cambric Mask<br />
+The Maker of Moons<br />
+The King in Yellow<br />
+In Search of the Unknown<br />
+The Conspiritors<br />
+A King and a Few Dukes<br />
+In the Quarter<br />
+Outsiders</p>
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span>
+<a name='PROLOGUE_CLAIREDELUNE' id='PROLOGUE_CLAIREDELUNE'></a>
+<h2>PROLOGUE
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />CLAIRE-DE-LUNE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>There was a big moon over the Bosphorus; the
+limpid waters off Seraglio Point glimmered; the
+Golden Horn was like a sheet of beaten silver
+inset with topaz and ruby where lanterns on rusting
+Turkish warships dyed the tarnished argent of the
+flood. Except for these, and the fixed lights on the
+foreign guard-ships and on a big American steam
+yacht, only a pale and nebulous shoreward glow betrayed
+the monster city.</p>
+<p>Over Pera the full moon&#8217;s lustre fell, silvering palace,
+villa, sea and coast; its rays glimmered on bridge and
+wharf, bastion, tower arsenal, and minarette, transforming
+those big, sprawling, ramshackle blotches of
+architecture called Constantinople into that shadowy,
+magnificent enchantment of the East, which all believe
+in, but which exists only in a poet&#8217;s heart and mind.</p>
+<p>Night veiled the squalour of Balat, and its filth, its
+meanness, its flimsy sham. Moonlight made of Galata
+a marvel, ennobling every bastard dome, every starved
+façade, every unlovely and attenuated minarette, and
+invested with added charm each really lovely ruin, each
+tower, palace, mosque, garden wall and balcony, and
+every crenelated battlement, where the bronze bulk of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span>
+ancient cannon slanted, outlined in silver under the
+Prophet&#8217;s moon.</p>
+<p>Tiny moving lights twinkled on the Galata Bridge;
+pale points of radiance dotted Scutari; but the group
+of amazing cities called Constantinople lay almost
+blotted out under the moon.</p>
+<p>Darker at night than any capital in the world, its
+huge, solid and ancient shapes bulking gigantic in the
+night, its noble ruins cloaked, its cheap filth hidden,
+its flimsy Coney Island aspect transfigured and the
+stylographic-pen architecture of a hundred minarettes
+softened into slender elegance, Constantinople lay
+dreaming its immemorial dreams under the black
+shadow of the Prussian eagle.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>The German Embassy was lighted up like a Pera
+café; the drawing-rooms crowded with a brilliant throng
+where sashes, orders, epaulettes and sabre-tache glittered,
+and jewels blazed and aigrettes waved under the
+crystal chandeliers, accenting and isolating sombre
+civilian evening dress, which seemed mournful, rusty,
+and out of the picture, even when plastered over with
+jewelled stars.</p>
+<p>Few Turkish officials and officers were present, but
+the disquieting sight of German officers in Turkish uniforms
+was not uncommon. And the Count d&#8217;Eblis,
+Senator of France, noted this phenomenon with lively
+curiosity, and mentioned it to his companion, Ferez
+Bey.</p>
+<p>Ferez Bey, lounging in a corner with Adolf Gerhardt,
+for whom he had procured an invitation, and
+flanked by the Count d&#8217;Eblis, likewise a guest aboard
+the rich German-American banker&#8217;s yacht, was very
+much in his element as friend and mentor.</p>
+<p>For Ferez Bey knew everybody in the Orient&mdash;knew
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span>
+when to cringe, when to be patronising, when to fawn,
+when to assert himself, when to be servile, when impudent.</p>
+<p>He was as impudent to Adolf Gerhardt as he dared
+be, the banker not knowing the subtler shades and differences;
+he was on an equality with the French senator,
+Monsieur le Comte d&#8217;Eblis because he knew that
+d&#8217;Eblis dared not resent his familiarity.</p>
+<p>Otherwise, in that brilliant company, Ferez Bey was
+a jackal&mdash;and he knew it perfectly&mdash;but a valuable
+jackal; and he also knew that.</p>
+<p>So when the German Ambassador spoke pleasantly
+to him, his attitude was just sufficiently servile, but not
+overdone; and when Von-der-Hohe Pasha, in the uniform
+of a Turkish General of Division, graciously exchanged
+a polite word with him during a moment&#8217;s
+easy gossip with the Count d&#8217;Eblis, Ferez Bey writhed
+moderately under the honour, but did not exactly
+squirm.</p>
+<p>To Conrad von Heimholz he ventured to present his
+German-American patron, Adolf Gerhardt, and the thin
+young military attaché condescended in his Prussian
+way to notice the introduction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Saw your yacht in the harbour,&#8221; he admitted
+stiffly. &#8220;It is astonishing how you Americans permit
+no bounds to your somewhat noticeable magnificence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s a good boat, the <i>Mirage</i>,&#8221; rumbled Gerhardt,
+in his bushy red beard, &#8220;but there are plenty in America
+finer than mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not many, Adolf,&#8221; insisted Ferez, in his flat, Eurasian
+voice&mdash;&#8220;not ver&#8217; many anyw&#8217;ere so fine like your
+<i>Mirage</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I saw none finer at Kiel,&#8221; said the attaché, staring
+at Gerhardt through his monocle, with the habitual
+insolence and disapproval of the Prussian junker. &#8220;To
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span>
+me it exhibits bad taste&#8221;&mdash;he turned to the Count
+d&#8217;Eblis&mdash;&#8220;particularly when the <i>Meteor</i> is there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221; asked the Count.</p>
+<p>&#8220;At Kiel. I speak of Kiel and the ostentation of
+certain foreign yacht owners at the recent regatta.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Gerhardt, redder than ever, was still German enough
+to swallow the meaningless insolence. He was not getting
+on very well at the Embassy of his fellow countrymen.
+Americans, properly presented, they endured
+without too open resentment; for German-Americans,
+even when millionaires, their contempt and bad manners
+were often undisguised.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to get out of this,&#8221; growled Gerhardt,
+who held a good position socially in New York and in
+the fashionable colony at Northbrook. &#8220;I&#8217;ve seen
+enough puffed up Germans and over-embroidered
+Turks to last me. Come on, d&#8217;Eblis&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ferez detained them both:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Surely,&#8221; he protested, &#8220;you would not miss Nihla!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla?&#8221; repeated d&#8217;Eblis, who had passed his arm
+through Gerhardt&#8217;s. &#8220;Is that the girl who set St.
+Petersburg by the ears?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla Quellen,&#8221; rumbled Gerhardt. &#8220;I&#8217;ve heard of
+her. She&#8217;s a dancer, isn&#8217;t she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ferez, of course, knew all about her, and he drew
+the two men into the embrasure of a long window.</p>
+<p>It was not happening just exactly as he and the
+German Ambassador had planned it together; they had
+intended to let Nihla burst like a flaming jewel on the
+vision of d&#8217;Eblis and blind him then and there.</p>
+<p>Perhaps, after all, it was better drama to prepare
+her entrance. And who but Ferez was qualified to prepare
+that entrée, or to speak with authority concerning
+the history of this strange and beautiful young
+girl who had suddenly appeared like a burning star
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span>
+in the East, had passed like a meteor through St.
+Petersburg, leaving several susceptible young men&mdash;notably
+the Grand Duke Cyril&mdash;mentally unhinged and
+hopelessly dissatisfied with fate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is ver&#8217; fonny, d&#8217;Eblis&mdash;une histoire chic, vous
+savez! Figurez vous&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talk English,&#8221; growled Gerhardt, eyeing the serene
+progress of a pretty Highness, Austrian, of
+course, surrounded by gorgeous uniforms and empressement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s that?&#8221; he added.</p>
+<p>Ferez turned; the gorgeous lady snubbed him, but
+bowed to d&#8217;Eblis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Archduchess Zilka,&#8221; he said, not a whit
+abashed. &#8220;She is a ver&#8217; great frien&#8217; of mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you present me?&#8221; enquired Gerhardt, restlessly;
+&#8220;&mdash;or you, d&#8217;Eblis&mdash;can&#8217;t you ask permission?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Count d&#8217;Eblis nodded inattentively, then turned
+his heavy and rather vulgar face to Ferez, plainly interested
+in the &#8220;histoire&#8221; of the girl, Nihla.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What were you going to say about that dancer?&#8221;
+he demanded.</p>
+<p>Ferez pretended to forget, then, apparently recollecting:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah! Apropos of Nihla? It is a ver&#8217; piquant storee&mdash;the
+storee of Nihla Quellen. Zat is not &#8217;er name.
+No! Her name is Dunois&mdash;Thessalie Dunois.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;French,&#8221; nodded d&#8217;Eblis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Alsatian,&#8221; replied Ferez slyly. &#8220;Her fathaire was
+captain&mdash;Achille Dunois?&mdash;you know&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed d&#8217;Eblis. &#8220;Do you mean that
+notorious fellow, the Grand Duke Cyril&#8217;s hunting
+cheetah?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The same, dear frien&#8217;. Dunois is dead&mdash;his bullet
+head was crack open, doubtless by som&#8217; ladee&#8217;s angree
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span>
+husban&#8217;. There are a few thousan&#8217; roubles&mdash;not
+more&mdash;to stan&#8217; between some kind gentleman and
+the prettee Nihla. You see?&#8221; he added to Gerhardt,
+who was listening without interest, &#8220;&mdash;Dunois, if he
+was the Gran&#8217; Duke&#8217;s cheetah, kept all such merry
+gentlemen from his charming daughtaire.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Gerhardt, whose aspirations lay higher, socially,
+than a dancing girl, merely grunted. But d&#8217;Eblis,
+whose aspirations were always below even his own level,
+listened with visibly increasing curiosity. And this was
+according to the programme of Ferez Bey and Excellenz.
+As the Hun has it, &#8220;according to plan.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; enquired d&#8217;Eblis heavily, &#8220;did Cyril get
+her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All St. Petersburg is still laughing at heem,&#8221; replied
+the voluble Eurasian. &#8220;Cyril indeed launched
+her. And that was sufficient&mdash;yet, that first night she
+storm St. Petersburg. And Cyril&#8217;s reward? Listen,
+d&#8217;Eblis, they say she slapped his sillee face. For me,
+I don&#8217;t know. That is the storee. And he was ver&#8217;
+angree, Cyril. You know? And, by God, it was what
+Gerhardt calls a &#8216;raw deal.&#8217; Yess? Figurez vous!&mdash;this
+girl, déjà lancée&mdash;and her fathaire the Grand
+Duke&#8217;s hunting cheetah, and her mothaire, what? Yes,
+mon ami, a &#8217;andsome Géorgianne, caught quite wild,
+they say, by Prince Haledine! For me, I believe it.
+Why not?... And then the beautiful Géorgianne,
+she fell to Dunois&mdash;on a bet?&mdash;a service rendered?&mdash;gratitude
+of Cyril?&mdash;&mdash;Who knows? Only that
+Dunois must marry her. And Nihla is their daughtaire.
+Voilà!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then why,&#8221; demanded d&#8217;Eblis, &#8220;does she make such
+a fuss about being grateful? I hate ingratitude, Ferez.
+And how can she last, anyway? To dance for
+the German Ambassador in Constantinople is all very
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span>
+well, but unless somebody launches her properly&mdash;in
+Paris&mdash;she&#8217;ll end in a Pera <ins title='Added missing quotes'>café.&#8221;</ins></p>
+<p>Ferez held his peace and listened with all his might.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I could do that,&#8221; added d&#8217;Eblis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please?&#8221; inquired Ferez suavely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Launch her in Paris.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The programme of Excellenz and Ferez Bey was
+certainly proceeding as planned.</p>
+<p>But Gerhardt was becoming restless and dully irritated
+as he began to realise more and more what caste
+meant to Prussians and how insignificant to these
+people was a German-American multimillionaire. And
+Ferez realised that he must do something.</p>
+<p>There was a Bavarian Baroness there, uglier than
+the usual run of Bavarian baronesses; and to her
+Ferez nailed Gerhardt, and wriggled free himself, making
+his way amid the gorgeous throngs to the Count
+d&#8217;Eblis once more.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I left Gerhardt planted,&#8221; he remarked with satisfaction;
+&#8220;by God, she is uglee like camels&mdash;the Baroness
+von Schaunitz! Nev&#8217; mind. It is nobility; it is
+the same to Adolf Gerhardt.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A homely woman makes me sick!&#8221; remarked d&#8217;Eblis.
+&#8220;Eh, mon Dieu!&mdash;one has merely to look at these
+ladies to guess their nationality! Only in Germany
+can one gather together such a collection of horrors.
+The only pretty ones are Austrian.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Perhaps even the cynicism of Excellenz had not
+realised the perfection of this setting, but Ferez, the
+nimble witted, had foreseen it.</p>
+<p>Already the glittering crowds in the drawing rooms
+were drawing aside like jewelled curtains; already the
+stringed orchestra had become mute aloft in its gilded
+gallery.</p>
+<p>The gay tumult softened; laughter, voices, the rustle
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span>
+of silks and fans, the metallic murmur of drawing-room
+equipment died away. Through the increasing
+stillness, from the gilded gallery a Thessalonian reed
+began skirling like a thrush in the underbrush.</p>
+<p>Suddenly a sand-coloured curtain at the end of the
+east room twitched open, and a great desert ostrich
+trotted in. And, astride of the big, excited, bridled
+bird, sat a young girl, controlling her restless mount
+with disdainful indifference.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla!&#8221; whispered Ferez, in the large, fat ear of
+the Count d&#8217;Eblis. The latter&#8217;s pallid jowl reddened
+and his pendulous lips tightened to a deep-bitten crease
+across his face.</p>
+<p>To the weird skirling of the Thessalonian pipe the
+girl, Nihla, put her feathered steed through its absurd paces,
+aping the haute-école.</p>
+<p>There is little humour in your Teuton; they were
+too amazed to laugh; too fascinated, possibly by the
+girl herself, to follow the panicky gambols of the reptile-headed
+bird.</p>
+<p>The girl wore absolutely nothing except a Yashmak
+and a zone of blue jewels across her breasts and hips.</p>
+<p>Her childish throat, her limbs, her slim, snowy body,
+her little naked feet were lovely beyond words. Her
+thick dark hair flew loose, now framing, now veiling
+an oval face from which, above the gauzy Yashmak&#8217;s
+edge, two dark eyes coolly swept her breathless audience.</p>
+<p>But under the frail wisp of cobweb, her cheeks
+glowed pink, and two full red lips parted deliciously
+in the half-checked laughter of confident, reckless
+youth.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<div class='figtag'>
+<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a>
+</div>
+<img src='images/illus-008.jpg' alt='' title='' width='600' height='426' />
+<br />
+<p class='caption'>
+NIHLA PUT HER FEATHERED STEED THROUGH ITS ABSURD PACES<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<p>Over hurdle after hurdle she lifted her powerful,
+half-terrified mount; she backed it, pirouetted, made
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span>
+it squat, leap, pace, trot, run with wings half spread
+and neck stretched level.</p>
+<p>She rode sideways, then kneeling, standing, then
+poised on one foot; she threw somersaults, faced to
+the rear, mounted and dismounted at full speed. And
+through the frail, transparent Yashmak her parted red
+lips revealed the glimmer of teeth and her childishly
+engaging laughter rang delightfully.</p>
+<p>Then, abruptly, she had enough of her bird; she
+wheeled, sprang to the polished parquet, and sent her
+feathered steed scampering away through the sand-coloured
+curtains, which switched into place again
+immediately.</p>
+<p>Breathless, laughing that frank, youthful, irresistible
+laugh which was to become so celebrated in Europe,
+Nihla Quellen strolled leisurely around the circle of
+her applauding audience, carelessly blowing a kiss or
+two from her slim finger-tips, evidently quite unspoiled
+by her success and equally delighted to please and to
+be pleased.</p>
+<p>Then, in the gilded gallery the strings began; and
+quite naturally, without any trace of preparation or
+self-consciousness, Nihla began to sing, dancing when
+the fascinating, irresponsible measure called for it,
+singing again as the sequence occurred. And the enchantment
+of it all lay in its accidental and detached
+allure&mdash;as though it all were quite spontaneous&mdash;the
+song a passing whim, the dance a capricious after-thought,
+and the whole thing done entirely to please
+herself and give vent to the sheer delight of a young
+girl, in her own overwhelming energy and youthful
+spirits.</p>
+<p>Even the Teuton comprehended that, and the applause
+grew to a roar with that odd undertone of animal
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
+menace always to be detected when the German
+herd is gratified and expresses pleasure en masse.</p>
+<p>But she wouldn&#8217;t stay, wouldn&#8217;t return. Like one
+of those beautiful Persian cats, she had lingered long
+enough to arouse delight. Then she went, deaf to recall,
+to persuasion, to caress&mdash;indifferent to praise, to
+blandishment, to entreaty. Cat and dancer were similar;
+Nihla, like the Persian puss, knew when she had
+had enough. That was sufficient for her: nothing
+could stop her, nothing lure her to return.</p>
+<p>Beads of sweat were glistening upon the heavy features
+of the Count d&#8217;Eblis. Von-der-Goltz Pasha,
+strolling near, did him the honour to remember him,
+but d&#8217;Eblis seemed dazed and unresponsive; and the
+old Pasha understood, perhaps, when he caught the
+beady and expressive eyes of Ferez fixed on him in
+exultation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whose is she?&#8221; demanded d&#8217;Eblis abruptly. His
+voice was hoarse and evidently out of control, for he
+spoke too loudly to please Ferez, who took him by
+the arm and led him out to the moonlit terrace.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mon pauvere ami,&#8221; he said soothingly, &#8220;she is
+actually the propertee of nobodee at present. Cyril,
+they say, is following her&mdash;quite ready for anything&mdash;marriage&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ferez shrugged:</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is the gosseep. No doubt som&#8217; man of wealth,
+more acceptable to her&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish to meet her!&#8221; said d&#8217;Eblis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah! That is, of course, not easee&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ferez laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ask yo&#8217;self the question again! Excellenz and his
+guests have gone quite mad ovaire Nihla&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I care nothing for them,&#8221; retorted d&#8217;Eblis thickly;
+&#8220;I wish to know her.... I wish to know her!...
+<i>Do you understand?</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a silence, Ferez turned in the moonlight and
+looked at the Count d&#8217;Eblis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And your newspapaire&mdash;<i>Le Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.... If you get her for me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You sell to me for two million francs the control
+stock in <i>Le Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; the two million, eh?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall use my influence with Gerhardt. That is all
+I can do. If your Emperor chooses to decorate him&mdash;something&mdash;the
+Red Eagle, third class, perhaps&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I attend to those,&#8221; smiled Ferez. &#8220;Hit&#8217;s ver&#8217; fonny,
+d&#8217;Eblis, how I am thinking about those Red Eagles
+all time since I know Gerhardt. I spik to Von-der-Goltz
+de votre part, si vous le voulez? Oui? Alors&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ask her to supper aboard the yacht.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;God knows&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Count d&#8217;Eblis said through closed teeth:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is the first woman I ever really wanted in
+all my life!... I am standing here now waiting for
+her&mdash;waiting to be presented to her now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I spik to Von-der-Goltz Pasha,&#8221; said Ferez; and
+he slipped through the palms and orange trees and
+vanished.</p>
+<p>For half an hour the Count d&#8217;Eblis stood there,
+motionless in the moonlight.</p>
+<p>She came about that time, on the arm of Ferez Bey,
+her father&#8217;s friend of many years.</p>
+<p>And Ferez left her there in the creamy Turkish
+moonlight on the flowering terrace, alone with the
+Count d&#8217;Eblis.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></div>
+<p>When Ferez came again, long after midnight, with
+Excellenz on one arm and the proud and happy Adolf
+Gerhardt on the other, the whole cycle of a little
+drama had been played to a conclusion between those
+two shadowy figures under the flowering almonds on the
+terrace&mdash;between this slender, dark-eyed girl and this
+big, bulky, heavy-visaged man of the world.</p>
+<p>And the man had been beaten and the girl had laid
+down every term. And the compact was this: that
+she was to be launched in Paris; she was merely to
+borrow any sum needed, with privilege to acquit the
+debt within the year; that, if she ever came to care
+for this man sufficiently, she was to become only one
+species of masculine property&mdash;a legal wife.</p>
+<p>And to every condition&mdash;and finally even to the last,
+the man had bowed his heavy, burning head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;D&#8217;Eblis!&#8221; began Gerhardt, almost stammering in
+his joy and pride. &#8220;His highness tells me that I am
+to have an order&mdash;an Imperial d-decoration&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>D&#8217;Eblis stared at him out of unseeing eyes; Nihla
+laughed outright, alas, too early wise and not even
+troubling her lovely head to wonder why a decoration
+had been asked for this burly, bushy-bearded man
+from nowhere.</p>
+<p>But within his sinuous, twisted soul Ferez writhed
+exultingly, and patted Gerhardt on the arm, and patted
+d&#8217;Eblis, too&mdash;dared even to squirm visibly closer
+to Excellenz, like a fawning dog that fears too much
+to venture contact in his wriggling demonstrations.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You take with you our pretty wonder-child to
+Paris to be launched, I hear,&#8221; remarked Excellenz, most
+affably, to d&#8217;Eblis. And to Nihla: &#8220;And upon a yacht
+fit for an emperor, I understand. Ach! Such a going
+forth is only heard of in the Arabian Nights. Eh
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+bien, ma petite, go West, conquer, and reign! It is
+a prophecy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And Nihla threw back her head and laughed her full-throated
+laughter under the Turkish moon.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Later, Ferez, walking with the Ambassador, replied
+humbly to the curt question:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I have become his jackal. But always at the
+orders of Excellenz.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Later still, aboard the <i>Mirage</i>, Ferez stood alone
+by the after-rail, staring with ratty eyes at the blackness
+beyond the New Bridge.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, God, be merciful!&#8221; he whispered. He had often
+said it on the eve of crime. Even an Eurasian rat has
+emotions. And Ferez had been in love with Nihla many
+years, and was selling her now at a price&mdash;selling her
+and Adolf Gerhardt and the Count d&#8217;Eblis and France&mdash;all
+he had to barter&mdash;for he had sold his soul too long
+ago to remember even what he got for it.</p>
+<p>The silence seemed more intense for the sounds that
+made it audible. From, the unlighted cities on the
+seven hills came an unbroken howling of dogs; transparent
+waves of the limpid Bosphorus slapped the vessel&#8217;s
+sides, making a mellow and ceaseless clatter. Far
+away beyond Galata Quay, in the inner reek of unseen
+Stamboul, the notes of a Turkish flute stole out across
+the darkness, where some Tzigane&mdash;some unseen wretch
+in rags&mdash;was playing the melancholy song of Mourad.
+And, mournfully responsive to the reedy complaint
+of a homeless wanderer from a nation without a home,
+the homeless dogs of Islam wailed their miserere under
+the Prophet&#8217;s moon.</p>
+<p>The tragic wolf-song wavered from hill to hill; from
+the Fields of the Dead to the Seven Towers, from
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span>
+Kassim to Tophane, seeming to swell into one dreadful,
+endless plaint:</p>
+<p>&#8220;My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And me!&#8221; muttered Ferez, shivering in the windy
+vapours from the Black Sea, which already dampened
+his face with their creeping summer chill.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He turned slowly. Swathed in a white wool bernous,
+Nihla stood there in the foggy moonlight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; she enquired, without preliminaries and
+with the unfeigned curiosity of a child.</p>
+<p>He did not pretend to misunderstand her in French:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thou knowest, Nihla. I have never touched thy
+heart. I could do nothing for thee&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Except to sell me,&#8221; she smiled, interrupting him in
+English, without the slightest trace of accent.</p>
+<p>But Ferez preferred the refuge of French:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Except to launch thee and make possible thy
+career,&#8221; he corrected her very gently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought you were in love with me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have loved thee, Nihla, since thy childhood.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is there anything on earth or in paradise, Ferez,
+that you would not sell for a price?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tell thee&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Zut! I know thee, Ferez!&#8221; she mocked him, slipping
+easily into French. &#8220;What was my price? Who
+pays thee, Colonel Ferez? This big, shambling, world-wearied
+Count, who is, nevertheless, afraid of me? Did
+he pay thee? Or was it this rich American, Gerhardt?
+Or was it Von-der-Goltz? Or Excellenz?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla! Thou knowest me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her clear, untroubled laughter checked him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know you, Ferez. That is why I ask. That is
+why I shall have no reply from you. Only my wits
+can ever answer me any questions.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></div>
+<p>She stood laughing at him, swathed in her white
+wool, looming like some mocking spectre in the misty
+moonlight of the after-deck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Ferez,&#8221; she said in her sweet, malicious voice,
+&#8220;there was a curse on Midas, too! You play at high
+finance; you sell what you never had to sell, and you
+are paid for it. All your life you have been busy
+selling, re-selling, bargaining, betraying, seeking always
+gain where only loss is possible&mdash;loss of all that justifies
+a man in daring to stand alive before the God that
+made him!... And yet&mdash;that which you call love&mdash;that
+shadowy emotion which you have also sold to-night&mdash;I
+think you really feel for me.... Yes, I believe it....
+But it, too, has its price.... <i>What</i>
+was that price, Ferez?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Believe me, Nihla&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Ferez, you ask too much! No! Let <i>me</i> tell <i>you</i>,
+then. The price was paid by that American, who is
+not one but a German.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is absurd!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why the Red Eagle, then? And the friendship of
+Excellenz? What is he then, this Gerhardt, but a millionaire?
+Why is nobility so gracious then? What
+does Gerhardt give for his Red Eagle?&mdash;for the politeness
+of Excellenz?&mdash;for the crooked smile of a Bavarian
+Baroness and the lifted lorgnette of Austria? What
+does he give for <i>me</i>? Who buys me after all? Enver?
+Talaat? Hilmi? Who sells me? Excellenz? Von-der-Goltz?
+You? And who pays for me? Gerhardt,
+who takes his profit in Red Eagles and offers me to
+d&#8217;Eblis for something in exchange to please Excellenz&mdash;and
+you? And what, at the end of the bargaining,
+does d&#8217;Eblis pay for me&mdash;pay through Gerhardt to
+you, and through you to Excellenz, and through Excellenz
+to the Kaiser Wilhelm II&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></div>
+<p>Ferez, showing his teeth, came close to her and spoke
+very softly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;See how white is the moonlight off Seraglio Point,
+my Nihla!... It is no whiter than those loveliest
+ones who lie fathoms deep below these little silver
+waves.... Each with her bowstring snug about her
+snowy neck.... As fair and young, as warm and
+fresh and sweet as thou, my Nihla.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled at her; and if the smile stiffened an instant
+on her lips, the next instant her light, dauntless laughter
+mocked him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For a price,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you would sell even Life
+to that old miser, Death! Then listen what you have
+done, little smiling, whining jackal of his Excellency!
+I go to Paris and to my career, certain of my happy
+destiny, sure of myself! For my opportunity I pay
+if I choose&mdash;pay <i>what</i> I choose&mdash;when and where it
+suits me to pay!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She slipped into French with a little laugh:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now go and lick thy fingers of whatever crumbs
+have stuck there. The Count d&#8217;Eblis is doubtless licking
+his. Good appetite, my Ferez! Lick away lustily,
+for God does not temper the jackal&#8217;s appetite to his
+opportunities!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Ferez let his level gaze rest on her in silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, trafficker in Eagles, dealer in love, vendor of
+youth, merchant of souls, what strikes you silent?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But he was thinking of something sharper than her
+tongue and less subtle, which one day might strike her
+silent if she laughed too much at Fate.</p>
+<p>And, thinking, he showed his teeth again in that
+noiseless snicker which was his smile and laughter too.</p>
+<p>The girl regarded him for a moment, then deliberately
+mimicked his smile:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The dogs of Stamboul laugh that way, too,&#8221; she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span>
+said, baring her pretty teeth. &#8220;What amuses you?
+Did the silly old Von-der-Goltz Pasha promise you,
+also, a dish of Eagle?&mdash;old Von-der-Goltz with his
+spectacles an inch thick and nothing living within what
+he carries about on his two doddering old legs! There&#8217;s
+a German!&mdash;who died twenty years ago and still walks
+like a damned man&mdash;jingling his iron crosses and mumbling
+his gums! Is it a resurrection from 1870 come
+to foretell another war? And why are these Prussian
+vultures gathering here in Stamboul? Can you tell
+me, Ferez?&mdash;these Prussians in Turkish uniforms! Is
+there anything dying or dead here, that these buzzards
+appear from the sky and alight? Why do they crowd
+and huddle in a circle around Constantinople? Is there
+something dead in Persia? Is the Bagdad railroad
+dying? Is Enver Bey at his last gasp? Is Talaat?
+Or perhaps the savoury odour comes from the
+Yildiz&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla! Is there nothing sacred&mdash;nothing thou fearest
+on earth?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only old age&mdash;and thy smile, my Ferez. Neither
+agrees with me.&#8221; She stretched her arms lazily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Allons,&#8221; she said, stifling a pleasant yawn with one
+slim hand,&#8220;&mdash;my maid will wake below and miss me;
+and then the dogs of Stamboul yonder will hear a solo
+such as they never heard before.... Tell me, Ferez,
+do you know when we are to weigh anchor?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;At sunrise.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is the same to me,&#8221;&mdash;she yawned again&mdash;&#8220;my
+maid is aboard and all my luggage. And my Ferez,
+also.... Mon dieu! And what will Cyril have to
+say when he arrives to find me vanished! It is, perhaps,
+well for us that we shall be at sea!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her quick laughter pealed; she turned with a careless
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
+gesture of salute, friendly and contemptuous; and her
+white bernous faded away in the moonlit fog.</p>
+<p>And Ferez Bey stood staring after her out of his
+near-set, beady eyes, loving her, desiring her, fearing
+her, unrepentant that he had sold her, wondering
+whether the day might dawn when he would find it best
+to kill her for the prosperity and peace of mind of the
+only living being in whose service he never tired&mdash;himself.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span>
+<a name='I_A_SHADOW_DANCE' id='I_A_SHADOW_DANCE'></a>
+<h2>I
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />A SHADOW DANCE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>Three years later Destiny still wore a rosy face
+for Nihla Quellen. And, for a young American
+of whom Nihla had never even heard, Destiny
+still remained the laughing jade he had always known,
+beckoning him ever nearer, with the coquettish promise
+of her curved forefinger, to fame and wealth immeasurable.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Seated now on a moonlit lawn, before his sketching
+easel, this optimistic young man, whose name was
+Barres, continued to observe the movements of a dim
+white figure which had emerged from the villa opposite,
+and was now stealing toward him across the dew-drenched
+grass.</p>
+<p>When the white figure was quite near it halted, holding
+up filmy skirts and peering intently at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;May one look?&#8221; she inquired, in that now celebrated
+voice of hers, through which ever seemed to sound a
+hint of hidden laughter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; he replied, rising from his folding camp
+stool.</p>
+<p>She tiptoed over the wet grass, came up beside him,
+gazed down at the canvas on his easel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can you really see to paint? Is the moon bright
+enough?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. But one has to be familiar with one&#8217;s palette.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. You seem to know yours quite perfectly, monsieur.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Enough to mix colours properly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t realise that painters ever actually painted
+pictures by moonlight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a sort of hit or miss business, but the notes
+made are interesting,&#8221; he explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you do with these moonlight studies?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Use them as notes in the studio when a moonlight
+picture is to be painted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you then a realist, monsieur?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As much of a realist as anybody with imagination
+can be,&#8221; he replied, smiling at her charming, moonlit
+face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand. Realism is merely honesty plus the
+imagination of the individual.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A delightful <i>mot</i>, madam&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mademoiselle,&#8221; she corrected him demurely. &#8220;Are
+you English?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;American.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. Then may I venture to converse with you in
+English?&#8221; She said it in exquisite English, entirely
+without accent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You <i>are</i> English!&#8221; he exclaimed under his breath.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No ... I don&#8217;t know what I am.... Isn&#8217;t it
+charming out here? What particular view are you
+painting?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Seine, yonder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She bent daintily over his sketch, holding up the
+skirts of her ball-gown.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your sketch isn&#8217;t very far advanced, is it?&#8221; she
+inquired seriously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not very,&#8221; he smiled.</p>
+<p>They stood there together in silence for a while,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+looking out over the moonlit river to the misty, tree-covered
+heights.</p>
+<p>Through lighted rows of open windows in the elaborate
+little villa across the lawn came lively music and
+the distant noise of animated voices.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know,&#8221; he ventured smilingly, &#8220;that your
+skirts and slippers are soaking wet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care. Isn&#8217;t this June night heavenly?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She glanced across at the lighted house. &#8220;It&#8217;s so hot
+and noisy in there; one dances only with discomfort.
+A distaste for it all sent me out on the terrace. Then
+I walked on the lawn. Then I beheld you!... Am
+I interrupting your work, monsieur? I suppose I am.&#8221;
+She looked up at him naïvely.</p>
+<p>He said something polite. An odd sense of having
+seen her somewhere possessed him now. From the distant
+house came the noisy American music of a two-step.
+With charming grace, still inspecting him out of
+her dark eyes, the girl began to move her pretty feet in
+rhythm with the music.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall we?&#8221; she inquired mischievously.... &#8220;Unless
+you are too busy&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The next moment they were dancing together there
+on the wet lawn, under the high lustre of the moon,
+her fresh young face and fragrant figure close to his.</p>
+<p>During their second dance she said serenely:</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll raise the dickens if I stay here any longer.
+Do you know the Comte d&#8217;Eblis?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Senator? The numismatist?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t know him. I am only a Latin Quarter
+student.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he is giving that party. He is giving it for
+me&mdash;in my honour. That is his villa. And I&#8221;&mdash;she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span>
+laughed&mdash;&#8220;am going to marry him&mdash;<i>perhaps</i>! Isn&#8217;t
+this a delightful escapade of mine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t it rather an indiscreet one?&#8221; he asked smilingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Frightfully. But I like it. How did you happen
+to pitch your easel on his lawn?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The river and the hills&mdash;their composition appealed
+to me from here. It is the best view of the Seine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you glad you came?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They both laughed at the mischievous question.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>During their third dance she became a little apprehensive
+and kept looking over her shoulder toward the
+house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a man expected there,&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;Ferez
+Bey. He&#8217;s as soft-footed as a cat and he always
+prowls in my vicinity. At times it almost seems to
+me as though he were slyly watching me&mdash;as though he
+were employed to keep an eye on me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A Turk?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eurasian.... I wonder what they think of my
+absence? Alexandre&mdash;the Comte d&#8217;Eblis&mdash;won&#8217;t like
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Had you better go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; I ought to, but I won&#8217;t.... Wait a moment!&#8221;
+She disengaged herself from his arms. &#8220;Hide
+your easel and colour-box in the shrubbery, in case
+anybody comes to look for me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She helped him strap up and fasten the telescope-easel;
+they placed the paraphernalia behind the blossoming
+screen of syringa. Then, coming together, she
+gave herself to him again, nestling between his arms
+with a little laugh; and they fell into step once more
+with the distant dance-music. Over the grass their
+united shadows glided, swaying, gracefully interlocked&mdash;moon-born
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span>
+phantoms which dogged their light young
+feet....</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>A man came out on the stone terrace under the Chinese
+lanterns. When they saw him they hastily backed
+into the obscurity of the shrubbery.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla!&#8221; he called, and his heavy voice was vibrant
+with irritation and impatience.</p>
+<p>He was a big man. He walked with a bulky, awkward
+gait&mdash;a few paces only, out across the terrace.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla!&#8221; he bawled hoarsely.</p>
+<p>Then two other men and a woman appeared on the
+terrace where the lanterns were strung. The woman
+called aloud in the darkness:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla! Nihla! Where are you, little devil?&#8221; Then
+she and the two men with her went indoors, laughing
+and skylarking, leaving the bulky man there alone.</p>
+<p>The young fellow in the shrubbery felt the girl&#8217;s
+hand tighten on his coat sleeve, felt her slender body
+quiver with stifled laughter. The desire to laugh seized
+him, too; and they clung there together, choking back
+their mirth while the big man who had first appeared
+waddled out across the lawn toward the shrubbery,
+shouting:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla! Where are you then?&#8221; He came quite close
+to where they stood, then turned, shouted once or twice
+and presently disappeared across the lawn toward a
+walled garden. Later, several other people came out
+on the terrace, calling, &#8220;Nihla, Nihla,&#8221; and then went
+indoors, laughing boisterously.</p>
+<p>The young fellow and the girl beside him were now
+quite weak and trembling with suppressed mirth.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>They had not dared venture out on the lawn, although
+dance music had begun again.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Is it your name they called?&#8221; he asked, his eyes
+very intent upon her face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Nihla.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I recognise you now,&#8221; he said, with a little thrill
+of wonder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so,&#8221; she replied with amiable indifference.
+&#8220;Everybody knows me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She did not ask his name; he did not offer to enlighten
+her. What difference, after all, could the name
+of an American student make to the idol of Europe,
+Nihla Quellen?</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m in a mess,&#8221; she remarked presently. &#8220;He will
+be quite furious with me. It is going to be most disagreeable
+for me to go back into that house. He has
+really an atrocious temper when made ridiculous.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m awfully sorry,&#8221; he said, sobered by her seriousness.</p>
+<p>She laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, pouf! I really don&#8217;t care. But perhaps you
+had better leave me now. I&#8217;ve spoiled your moonlight
+picture, haven&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But think what you have given me to make amends!&#8221;
+he replied.</p>
+<p>She turned and caught his hands in hers with adorable
+impulsiveness:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a sweet boy&mdash;do you know it! We&#8217;ve had
+a heavenly time, haven&#8217;t we? Do you really think you
+ought to go&mdash;so soon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you think so, Nihla?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want you to go. Anyway, there&#8217;s a train
+every two hours&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve a canoe down by the landing. I shall paddle
+back as I came&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A canoe!&#8221; she exclaimed, enchanted. &#8220;Will you
+take me with you?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;To Paris?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course! Will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In your ball-gown?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d adore it! Will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is an absolutely crazy suggestion,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it. The world is only a big asylum. There&#8217;s
+a path to the river behind these bushes. Quick&mdash;pick
+up your painting traps&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Nihla, dear&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please! I&#8217;m dying to run away with you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To Paris?&#8221; he demanded, still incredulous that the
+girl really meant it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course! You can get a taxi at the Pont-au-Change
+and take me home. Will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would be wonderful, of course&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It will be paradise!&#8221; she exclaimed, slipping her
+hand into his. &#8220;Now, let us run like the dickens!&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the uncertain moonlight, filtering through the
+shrubbery, they found a hidden path to the river; and
+they took it together, lightly, swiftly, speeding down
+the slope, all breathless with laughter, along the moonlit
+way.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>In the suburban villa of the Comte d&#8217;Eblis a wine-flushed
+and very noisy company danced on, supped at
+midnight, continued the revel into the starlit morning
+hours. The place was a jungle of confetti.</p>
+<p>Their host, restless, mortified, angry, perplexed by
+turns, was becoming obsessed at length with dull premonitions
+and vaguer alarms.</p>
+<p>He waddled out to the lawn several times, still wearing
+his fancy gilt and tissue cap, and called:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla! Damnation! Answer me, you little fool!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He went down to the river, where the gaily painted
+row-boats and punts lay, and scanned the silvered
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span>
+flood, tortured by indefinite apprehensions. About
+dawn he started toward the weed-grown, slippery river-stairs
+for the last time, still crowned with his tinsel
+cap; and there in the darkness he found his aged boat-man,
+fishing for gudgeon with a four-cornered net suspended
+to the end of a bamboo pole.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you see anything of Mademoiselle Nihla?&#8221;
+he demanded, in a heavy, unsteady voice, tremulous with
+indefinable fears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Monsieur le Comte, Mademoiselle Quellen went out
+in a canoe with a young gentleman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;W-what is that you tell me!&#8221; faltered the Comte
+d&#8217;Eblis, turning grey in the face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Last night, about ten o&#8217;clock, M&#8217;sieu le Comte. I
+was out in the moonlight fishing for eels. She came
+down to the shore&mdash;took a canoe yonder by the willows.
+The young man had a double-bladed paddle.
+They were singing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&mdash;they have not returned?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, M&#8217;sieu le Comte&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who was the&mdash;man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I could not see&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well.&#8221; He turned and looked down the dusky
+river out of light-coloured, murderous eyes. Then, always
+awkward in his gait, he retraced his steps to the
+house. There a servant accosted him on the terrace:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The telephone, if Monsieur le Comte pleases&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is calling?&#8221; he demanded with a flare of fury.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Paris, if it pleases Monsieur le Comte.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Count d&#8217;Eblis went to his own quarters, seated
+himself, and picked up the receiver:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is it?&#8221; he asked thickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Max Freund.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What has h-happened?&#8221; he stammered in sudden
+terror.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></div>
+<p>Over the wire came the distant reply, perfectly clear
+and distinct:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez Bey was arrested in his own house at dinner
+last evening, and was immediately conducted to the
+frontier, escorted by Government detectives.... Is
+Nihla with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Count&#8217;s teeth were chattering now. He managed
+to say:</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t know where she is. She was dancing.
+Then, all at once, she was gone. Of what was Colonel
+Ferez suspected?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. But perhaps we might guess.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are <i>you</i> followed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By&mdash;by whom?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Souchez.... Good-bye, if I don&#8217;t see you. I
+join Ferez. And look out for Nihla. She&#8217;ll trick you
+yet!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Count d&#8217;Eblis called:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait, for God&#8217;s sake, Max!&#8221;&mdash;listened; called again
+in vain. &#8220;The one-eyed rabbit!&#8221; he panted, breathing
+hard and irregularly. His large hand shook as he
+replaced the instrument. He sat there as though paralysed,
+for a moment or two. Mechanically he removed
+his tinsel cap and thrust it into the pocket of
+his evening coat. Suddenly the dull hue of anger dyed
+neck, ears and temple:</p>
+<p>&#8220;By God!&#8221; he gasped. &#8220;What is that she-devil trying
+to do to me? What has she <i>done</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>After another moment of staring fixedly at nothing,
+he opened the table drawer, picked up a pistol and
+poked it into his breast pocket.</p>
+<p>Then he rose, heavily, and stood looking out of the
+window at the paling east, his pendulous under lip
+aquiver.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span>
+<a name='II_SUNRISE' id='II_SUNRISE'></a>
+<h2>II
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />SUNRISE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The first sunbeams had already gilded her bedroom
+windows, barring the drawn curtains with
+light, when the man arrived. He was still wearing
+his disordered evening dress under a light overcoat;
+his soiled shirt front was still crossed by the red
+ribbon of watered silk; third class orders striped his
+breast, where also the brand new Turkish sunburst
+glimmered.</p>
+<p>A sleepy maid in night attire answered his furious
+ringing; the man pushed her aside with an oath and
+strode into the semi-darkness of the corridor. He was
+nearly six feet tall, bulky; but his legs were either
+too short or something else was the matter with them,
+for when he walked he waddled, breathing noisily from
+the ascent of the stairs.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is your mistress here?&#8221; he demanded, hoarse with
+his effort.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Y&mdash;yes, monsieur&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When did she come in?&#8221; And, as the scared and
+bewildered maid hesitated: &#8220;Damn you, answer me!
+When did Mademoiselle Quellen come in? I&#8217;ll wring
+your neck if you lie to me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The maid began to whimper:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Monsieur le Comte&mdash;I do not wish to lie to
+you.... Mademoiselle Nihla came back with the
+dawn&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Alone?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></div>
+<p>The maid wrung her hands:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does Monsieur le Comte m-mean to harm her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you answer me, you snivelling cat!&#8221; he panted
+between his big, discoloured teeth. He had fished out
+a pistol from his breast pocket, dragging with it a
+silk handkerchief, a fancy cap of tissue and gilt, and
+some streamers of confetti which fell to the carpet
+around his feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; he breathed in a half-strangled voice, &#8220;answer
+my questions. Was she alone when she came in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;N-no.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who was with her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The maid trembled violently and nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;M-Monsieur le Comte, I have never before beheld
+him&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You lie!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not lie! I have never before seen him, Monsieur
+le&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you learn his name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you hear what they said?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They spoke in English&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; The man&#8217;s puffy face went flabby white,
+and his big, badly made frame seemed to sag for a moment.
+He laid a large fat hand flat against the wall,
+as though to support and steady himself, and gazed
+dully at the terrified maid.</p>
+<p>And she, shivering in her night-robe and naked feet,
+stared back into the pallid face, with its coarse,
+greyish moustache and little short side-whiskers which
+vulgarized it completely&mdash;gazed in unfeigned terror at
+the sagging, deadly, lead-coloured eyes.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Is the man there&mdash;in there now&mdash;with her?&#8221; demanded
+the Comte d&#8217;Eblis heavily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, monsieur.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Monsieur le Comte, the young man stayed but
+a moment&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where were they? In her bedroom?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the salon. I&mdash;I served a pâté&mdash;a glass of wine&mdash;and
+the young gentleman was gone the next minute&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>A dull red discoloured the neck and features of the
+Count.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s enough,&#8221; he said; and waddled past her
+along the corridor to the furthest door; and wrenched
+it open with one powerful jerk.</p>
+<p>In the still, golden gloom of the drawn curtains,
+now striped with sunlight, a young girl suddenly sat
+up in bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Alexandre!&#8221; she exclaimed in angry astonishment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You slut!&#8221; he said, already enraged again at the
+mere sight of her. &#8220;Where did you go last night!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing in my bedroom?&#8221; she demanded,
+confused but flushed with anger. &#8220;Leave it!
+Do you hear!&mdash;&#8221; She caught sight of the pistol in his
+hand and stiffened.</p>
+<p>He stepped nearer; her dark, dilated gaze remained
+fixed on the pistol.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Answer me,&#8221; he said, the menacing roar rising in
+his voice. &#8220;Where did you go last night when you left
+the house?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I went out&mdash;on the lawn.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had had enough of your party: I came back to
+Paris.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And <i>then</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I came here, of course.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who was with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then, for the first time, she began to comprehend.
+She swallowed desperately.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who was your companion?&#8221; he repeated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A&mdash;man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You brought him here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&mdash;came in&mdash;for a moment.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who was he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;never before saw him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You picked up a man in the street and brought him
+here with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;N-not on the street&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On the lawn&mdash;while your guests were dancing&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you came to Paris with him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who was he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you don&#8217;t name him, I&#8217;ll kill you!&#8221; he yelled,
+losing the last vestige of self-control. &#8220;What kind of
+story are you trying to tell me, you lying drab! You&#8217;ve
+got a lover! Confess it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have not!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Liar! So this is how you&#8217;ve laughed at me, mocked
+me, betrayed me, made a fool of me! You!&mdash;with your
+fierce little snappish ways of a virgin! You with your
+dangerous airs of a tiger-cat if a man so much as laid
+a finger on your vicious body! So Mademoiselle-Don&#8217;t-touch-me
+had a lover all the while. Max Freund warned
+me to keep an eye on you!&#8221; He lost control of himself
+again; his voice became a hoarse shout: &#8220;Max Freund
+begged me not to trust you! You filthy little beast!
+Good God! Was I crazy to believe in you&mdash;to talk
+without reserve in your presence! What kind of imbecile
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span>
+was I to offer you marriage because I was crazy
+enough to believe that there was no other way to possess
+you! You&mdash;a Levantine dancing girl&mdash;a common
+painted thing of the public footlights&mdash;a creature of
+brasserie and cabaret! And you posed as Mademoiselle
+Nitouche! A novice! A devotee of chastity! And, by
+God, your devilish ingenuity at last persuaded me that
+you actually were what you said you were. And all
+Paris knew you were fooling me&mdash;all Paris was laughing
+in its dirty sleeve&mdash;mocking me&mdash;spitting on
+me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All Paris,&#8221; she said, in an unsteady voice, &#8220;gave
+you credit for being my lover. And I endured it. And
+you knew it was not true. Yet you never denied it....
+But as for me, I never had a lover. When I told
+you that I told you the truth. And it is true to-day
+as it was yesterday. Nobody believes it of a dancing
+girl. Now, <i>you</i> no longer believe it. Very well, there
+is no occasion for melodrama. I tried to fall in love
+with you: I couldn&#8217;t. I did not desire to marry you.
+You insisted. Very well; you can go.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not before I learn the name of your lover of last
+night!&#8221; he retorted, now almost beside himself with
+fury, and once more menacing her with his pistol. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+get that much change out of all the money I&#8217;ve lavished
+on you!&#8221; he yelled. &#8220;Tell me his name or I&#8217;ll kill
+you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She reached under her pillow, clutched a jewelled
+watch and purse, and hurled them at him. She twisted
+from her arm a gemmed bracelet, tore every flashing
+ring from her fingers, and flung them in a handful
+straight at his head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s some more change for you!&#8221; she panted.
+&#8220;Now, leave my bedroom!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll have that man&#8217;s name first!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></div>
+<p>The girl laughed in his distorted face. He was
+within an ace of shooting her&mdash;of firing point-blank
+into the lovely, flushed features, merely to shatter them,
+destroy, annihilate. He had the desire to do it. But her
+breathless, contemptuous laugh broke that impulse&mdash;relaxed
+it, leaving it flaccid. And after an interval something
+else intervened to stay his hand at the trigger&mdash;something
+that crept into his mind; something he had
+begun to suspect that she knew. Suddenly he became
+convinced that she <i>did</i> know it&mdash;that she believed that
+he dared not kill her and stand the investigation of a
+public trial before a <i>juge d&#8217;instruction</i>&mdash;that he could
+not afford to have his own personal affairs scrutinised
+too closely.</p>
+<p>He still wanted to kill her&mdash;shoot her there where
+she sat in bed, watching him out of scornful young
+eyes. So intense was his need to slay&mdash;to disfigure,
+brutalise this girl who had mocked him, that the raging
+desire hurt him physically. He leaned back, resting
+against the silken wall, momentarily weakened by the
+violence of passion. But his pistol still threatened her.</p>
+<p>No; he dared not. There was a better, surer way to
+utterly destroy her,&mdash;a way he had long ago prepared,&mdash;not
+expecting any such contingency as this, but
+merely as a matter of self-insurance.</p>
+<p>His levelled weapon wavered, dropped, held loosely
+now. He still glared at her out of pallid and blood-shot
+eyes in silence. After a while:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You hell-cat,&#8221; he said slowly and distinctly. &#8220;Who
+is your English lover? Tell me his name or I&#8217;ll beat
+your face to a pulp!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have no English lover.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think,&#8221; he went on heavily, disregarding
+her reply, &#8220;that I don&#8217;t know why you chose an Englishman?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+You thought you could blackmail me, didn&#8217;t
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How?&#8221; she demanded wearily.</p>
+<p>Again he ignored her reply:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is he one of the Embassy?&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;Is he
+some emissary of Grey&#8217;s? Does he come from their
+intelligence department? Or is he only a police jackal?
+Or some lesser rat?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She shrugged; her night-robe slipped and she drew
+it over her shoulder with a quick movement. And the
+man saw the deep blush spreading over face and throat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By God!&#8221; he said, &#8220;you <i>are</i> an actress! I admit it.
+But now you are going to learn something about real
+life. You think you&#8217;ve got me, don&#8217;t you?&mdash;you and
+your Englishman? Because I have been fool enough
+to trust you&mdash;hide nothing from you&mdash;act frankly
+and openly in your presence. You thought you&#8217;d get
+a hold on me, so that if I ever caught you at your
+treacherous game you could defy me and extort from
+me the last penny! You thought all that out&mdash;very
+thriftily and cleverly&mdash;you and your Englishman between
+you&mdash;didn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what you mean.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you? Then why did you ask me the other
+day whether it was not German money which was paying
+for the newspaper which I bought?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The <i>Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I asked you that because Ferez Bey is notoriously
+in Germany&#8217;s pay. And Ferez Bey financed the affair.
+You said so. Besides, you and he discussed it
+before me in my own salon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you suspected that I bought the <i>Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>
+with German money for the purpose of carrying out
+German propaganda in a Paris daily paper?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know why Ferez Bey gave you the money
+to buy it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He did not give me the money.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You said so. Who did?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>You!</i>&#8221; he fairly yelled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;W-what!&#8221; stammered the girl, confounded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen to me, you rat!&#8221; he said fiercely. &#8220;I was
+not such a fool as you believed me to be. I lavished
+money on you; you made a fortune for yourself out of
+your popularity, too. Do you remember endorsing a
+cheque drawn to your order by Ferez Bey?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. You had borrowed every penny I possessed.
+You said that Ferez Bey owed you as much. So I accepted
+his cheque&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That cheque paid for the <i>Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>. It is drawn
+to your order; it bears your endorsement; the <i>Mot
+d&#8217;Ordre</i> was purchased in your name. And it was Max
+Freund who insisted that I take that precaution. Now,
+try to blackmail me!&mdash;you and your English spy!&#8221; he
+cried triumphantly, his voice breaking into a squeak.</p>
+<p>Not yet understanding, merely conscious of some
+vague and monstrous danger, the girl sat motionless,
+regarding him intently out of beautiful, intelligent
+eyes.</p>
+<p>He burst into laughter, made falsetto by the hysteria
+of sheer hatred:</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s where you are now!&#8221; he said, leering down
+at her. &#8220;Every paper I ever made you sign incriminates
+you; your cancelled cheque is in the same packet;
+your <i>dossier</i> is damning and complete. You didn&#8217;t
+know that Ferez Bey was sent across the frontier yesterday,
+did you? Your English spy didn&#8217;t inform you
+last night, did he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;N-no.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You lie! You <i>did</i> know it! That was why you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
+stole away last night and met your jackal&mdash;to sell him
+something besides yourself, this time! You knew they
+had arrested Ferez! I don&#8217;t know how you knew it,
+but you did. And you told your lover. And both of
+you thought you had me at last, didn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;what are you trying to say to me&mdash;do to me?&#8221;
+she stammered, losing colour for the first time.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Put you where you belong&mdash;you dirty spy!&#8221; he said
+with grinning ferocity. &#8220;If there is to be trouble, I&#8217;ve
+prepared for it. When they try you for espionage,
+they&#8217;ll try you as a foreigner&mdash;a dancing girl in the
+pay of Germany&mdash;as my mistress whom Max Freund
+and I discover in treachery to France, and whom I instantly
+denounce to the proper authorities!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He shoved his pistol into his breast pocket and put
+on his marred silk hat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which do you think they will believe&mdash;you or the
+Count d&#8217;Eblis?&#8221; he demanded, the nervous leer twitching
+at his heavy lips. &#8220;Which do you think they will
+believe&mdash;your denials and counter-accusations against
+me, or Max Freund&#8217;s corroboration, and the evidence
+of the packet I shall now deliver to the authorities&mdash;the
+packet containing every cursed document necessary
+to convict you!&mdash;you filthy little&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl bounded from her bed to the floor, her dark
+eyes blazing:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn you!&#8221; she said. &#8220;Get out of my bedroom!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Taken aback, he retreated a pace or two, and, at
+the furious menace of the little clenched fist, stepped
+another pace out into the corridor. The door crashed
+in his face; the bolt shot home.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>In twenty minutes Nihla Quellen, the celebrated and
+adored of European capitals, crept out of the street
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
+door. She wore the dress of a Finistère peasant; her
+hair was grey, her step infirm.</p>
+<p>The <i>commissaire</i>, two <i>agents de police</i>, and a Government
+detective, one Souchez, already on their way
+to identify and arrest her, never even glanced at the
+shabby, infirm figure which hobbled past them on the
+sidewalk and feebly mounted an omnibus marked Gare
+du Nord.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>For a long time Paris was carefully combed for the
+dancer, Nihla Quellen, until more serious affairs occupied
+the authorities, and presently the world at large.
+For, in a few weeks, war burst like a clap of thunder
+over Europe, leaving the whole world stunned and reeling.
+The dossier of Nihla Quellen, the dancing girl,
+was tossed into secret archives, together with the dossier
+of one Ferez Bey, an Eurasian, now far beyond
+French jurisdiction, and already very industrious in
+the United States about God knows what, in company
+with one Max Freund.</p>
+<p>As for Monsieur the Count d&#8217;Eblis, he remained a
+senator, an owner of many third-rate decorations, and
+of the <i>Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>.</p>
+<p>And he remained on excellent terms with everybody
+at the Swedish, Greek, and Bulgarian legations, and the
+Turkish Embassy, too. And continued in cipher communication
+with Max Freund and Ferez Bey in America.</p>
+<p>Otherwise, he was still president of the Numismatic
+Society of Spain, and he continued to add to his wonderful
+collection of coins, and to keep up his voluminous
+numismatic correspondence.</p>
+<p>He was growing stouter, too, which increased his
+spinal waddle when he walked; and he became very
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span>
+prosperous financially, through fortunate &#8220;operations,&#8221;
+as he explained, with one Bolo Pasha.</p>
+<p>He had only one regret to interfere with his sleep
+and his digestion; he was sorry he had not fired his
+pistol into the youthful face of Nihla Quellen. He
+should have avenged himself, taken his chances, and
+above everything else he should have destroyed her
+beauty. His timidity and caution still caused him deep
+and bitter chagrin.</p>
+<p>For nearly a year he heard absolutely nothing concerning
+her. Then one day a letter arrived from Ferez
+Bey through Max Freund, both being in New York.
+And when, using his key to the cipher, he extracted the
+message it contained, he had learned, among other
+things, that Nihla Quellen was in New York, employed
+as a teacher in a school for dancing.</p>
+<p>The gist of his reply to Ferez Bey was that Nihla
+Quellen had already outlived her usefulness on earth,
+and that Max Freund should attend to the matter at
+the first favourable opportunity.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span>
+<a name='III_SUNSET' id='III_SUNSET'></a>
+<h2>III
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />SUNSET</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>On the edge of evening she came out of the Palace
+of Mirrors and crossed the wet asphalt, which
+already reflected primrose lights from a clearing
+western sky.</p>
+<p>A few moments before, he had been thinking of her,
+never dreaming that she was in America. But he knew
+her instantly, there amid the rush and clatter of the
+street, recognised her even in the twilight of the passing
+storm&mdash;perhaps not alone from the half-caught
+glimpse of her shadowy, averted face, nor even from
+that young, lissome figure so celebrated in Europe.
+There is a sixth sense&mdash;the sense of nearness to what
+is familiar. When it awakes we call it premonition.</p>
+<p>The shock of seeing her, the moment&#8217;s exciting incredulity,
+passed before he became aware that he was
+already following her through swarming metropolitan
+throngs released from the toil of a long, wet day in
+early spring.</p>
+<p>Through every twilit avenue poured the crowds;
+through every cross-street a rosy glory from the west
+was streaming; and in its magic he saw her immortally
+transfigured, where the pink light suffused the crossings,
+only to put on again her lovely mortality in the
+shadowy avenue.</p>
+<p>At Times Square she turned west, straight into the
+dazzling fire of sunset, and he at her slender heels, not
+knowing why, not even asking it of himself, not thinking,
+not caring.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></div>
+<p>A third figure followed them both.</p>
+<p>The bronze giants south of them stirred, swung their
+great hammers against the iron bell; strokes of the
+hour rang out above the din of Herald Square, inaudible
+in the traffic roar another square away, lost,
+drowned out long before the pleasant bell-notes penetrated
+to Forty-second Street, into which they both
+had turned.</p>
+<p>Yet, as though occultly conscious that some hour
+had struck on earth, significant to her, she stopped,
+turned, and looked back&mdash;looked quite through him,
+seeing neither him nor the one-eyed man who followed
+them both&mdash;as though her line of vision were the East
+itself, where, across the grey sea&#8217;s peril, a thousand
+miles of cannon were sounding the hour from the North
+Sea to the Alps.</p>
+<p>He passed her at her very elbow&mdash;aware of her nearness,
+as though suddenly close to a young orchard in
+April. The girl, too, resumed her way, unconscious
+of him, of his youthful face set hard with controlled
+emotion.</p>
+<p>The one-eyed man followed them both.</p>
+<p>A few steps further and she turned into the entrance
+to one of those sprawling, pretentious restaurants, the
+sham magnificence of which becomes grimy overnight.
+He halted, swung around, retraced his steps and followed
+her. And at his heels two shapes followed them
+very silently&mdash;her shadow and his own&mdash;so close together
+now, against the stucco wall that they seemed
+like Destiny and Fate linked arm in arm.</p>
+<p>The one-eyed man halted at the door for a few moments.
+Then he, too, went in, dogged by his sinister
+shadow.</p>
+<p>The red sunset&#8217;s rays penetrated to the rotunda and
+were quenched there in a flood of artificial light; and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
+there their sun-born shadows vanished, and three
+strange new shadows, twisted and grotesque, took their
+places.</p>
+<p>She continued on into the almost empty restaurant,
+looming dimly beyond. He followed; the one-eyed man
+followed both.</p>
+<p>The place into which they stepped was circular, centred
+by a waterfall splashing over concrete rocks. In
+the ruffled pool goldfish glimmered, nearly motionless,
+and mandarin ducks floated, preening exotic plumage.</p>
+<p>A wilderness of tables surrounded the pool, set for
+the expected patronage of the coming evening. The
+girl seated herself at one of these.</p>
+<p>At the next table he found a place for himself, entirely
+unnoticed by her. The one-eyed man took the
+table behind them. A waiter presented himself to take
+her order; another waiter came up leisurely to attend
+to him. A third served the one-eyed man. There were
+only a few inches between the three tables. Yet the
+girl, deeply preoccupied, paid no attention to either
+man, although both kept their eyes on her.</p>
+<p>But already, under the younger man&#8217;s spellbound
+eyes, an odd and unforeseen thing was occurring: he
+gradually became aware that, almost imperceptibly, the
+girl and the table where she sat, and the sleepy waiter
+who was taking her orders, were slowly moving nearer
+to him on a floor which was moving, too.</p>
+<p>He had never before been in that particular restaurant,
+and it took him a moment or two to realise that
+the floor was one of those trick floors, the central
+part of which slowly revolves.</p>
+<p>Her table stood on the revolving part of the floor,
+his upon fixed terrain; and he now beheld her moving
+toward him, as the circle of tables rotated on its axis,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span>
+which was the waterfall and pool in the middle of the
+restaurant.</p>
+<p>A few people began to arrive&mdash;theatrical people, who
+are obliged to dine early. Some took seats at tables
+placed upon the revolving section of the floor, others
+preferred the outer circles, where he sat in a fixed position.</p>
+<p>Her table was already abreast of his, with only the
+circular crack in the floor between them; he could easily
+have touched her.</p>
+<p>As the distance began to widen between them, the
+girl, her gloved hands clasped in her lap, and studying
+the table-cloth with unseeing gaze, lifted her dark eyes&mdash;looked
+at him without seeing, and once more gazed
+through him at something invisible upon which her
+thoughts remained fixed&mdash;something absorbing, vital,
+perhaps tragic&mdash;for her face had become as colourless,
+now, as one of those translucent marbles, vaguely
+warmed by some buried vein of rose beneath the snowy
+surface.</p>
+<p>Slowly she was being swept away from him&mdash;his gaze
+following&mdash;hers lost in concentrated abstraction.</p>
+<p>He saw her slipping away, disappearing behind the
+noisy waterfall. Around him the restaurant continued
+to fill, slowly at first, then more rapidly after the orchestra
+had entered its marble gallery.</p>
+<p>The music began with something Russian, plaintive
+at first, then beguiling, then noisy, savage in its brutal
+precision&mdash;something sinister&mdash;a trampling melody
+that was turning into thunder with the throb of doom
+all through it. And out of the vicious, Asiatic
+clangour, from behind the dash of too obvious waterfalls,
+glided the girl he had followed, now on her way
+toward him again, still seated at her table, still gazing
+at nothing out of dark, unseeing eyes.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></div>
+<p>It seemed to him an hour before her table approached
+his own again. Already she had been served by a
+waiter&mdash;was eating.</p>
+<p>He became aware, then, that somebody had also
+served him. But he could not even pretend to eat, so
+preoccupied was he by her approach.</p>
+<p>Scarcely seeming to move at all, the revolving floor
+was steadily drawing her table closer and closer to his.
+She was not looking at the strawberries which she was
+leisurely eating&mdash;did not lift her eyes as her table swept
+smoothly abreast of his.</p>
+<p>Scarcely aware that he spoke aloud, he said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla&mdash;Nihla Quellen!...&#8221;</p>
+<p>Like a flash the girl wheeled in her chair to face him.
+She had lost all her colour. Her fork had dropped
+and a blood-red berry rolled over the table-cloth toward
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry,&#8221; he said, flushing. &#8220;I did not mean to
+startle you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl did not utter a word, nor did she move; but
+in her dark eyes he seemed to see her every sense concentrated
+upon him to identify his features, made shadowy
+by the lighted candles behind his head.</p>
+<p>By degrees, smoothly, silently, her table swept nearer,
+nearer, bringing with it her chair, her slender person,
+her dark, intelligent eyes, so unsmilingly and steadily
+intent on him.</p>
+<p>He began to stammer:</p>
+<p>&#8220;&mdash;Two years ago&mdash;at&mdash;the Villa Tresse d&#8217;Or&mdash;on
+the Seine.... And we promised to see each other&mdash;in
+the morning&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She said coolly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;My name is Thessalie Dunois. You mistake me for
+another.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; he said, in a low voice, &#8220;I am not mistaken.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></div>
+<p>Her brown eyes seemed to plunge their clear regard
+into the depths of his very soul&mdash;not in recognition,
+but in watchful, dangerous defiance.</p>
+<p>He began again, still stammering a trifle:</p>
+<p>&#8220;&mdash;In the morning, we were to&mdash;to meet&mdash;at eleven&mdash;near
+the fountain of Marie de Médicis&mdash;unless you
+do not care to remember&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that her gaze altered swiftly, melted into the exquisite
+relief of recognition. Suspended breath, released,
+parted her blanched lips; her little guardian
+heart, relieved of fear, beat more freely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know you now,&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;You are Garret
+Barres, of the rue d&#8217;Eryx.... You <i>are</i> Garry!&#8221;
+A smile already haunted her dark young eyes; colour
+was returning to lip and cheek. She drew a deep, noiseless
+breath.</p>
+<p>The table where she sat continued to slip past him;
+the distance between them was widening. She had to
+turn her head a little to face him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You do remember me then, Nihla?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl inclined her head a trifle. A smile curved
+her lips&mdash;lips now vivid but still a little tremulous from
+the shock of the encounter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I join you at your table?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She smiled, drew a deeper breath, looked down at the
+strawberry on the cloth, looked over her shoulder at
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You owe me an explanation,&#8221; he insisted, leaning
+forward to span the increasing distance between them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ask yourself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a moment, still studying him, she nodded as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span>
+though the nod answered some silent question of her
+own:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I owe you one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then may I join you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My table is more prudent than I. It is running
+away from an explanation.&#8221; She fixed her eyes on her
+tightly clasped hands, as though to concentrate
+thought. He could see only the back of her head, white
+neck and lovely dark hair.</p>
+<p>Her table was quite a distance away when she turned,
+leisurely, and looked back at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I come?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>She lifted her delicate brows in demure surprise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been waiting for you,&#8221; she said, amiably.</p>
+<p>The one-eyed man had never taken his eyes off them.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span>
+<a name='IV_DUSK' id='IV_DUSK'></a>
+<h2>IV
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />DUSK</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>She had offered him her hand; he had bent over it,
+seated himself, and they smilingly exchanged the
+formal banalities of a pleasantly renewed acquaintance.</p>
+<p>A waiter laid a cover for him. She continued to
+concern herself, leisurely, with her strawberries.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When did you leave Paris?&#8221; she enquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nearly two years ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Before war was declared?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, in June of that year.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked up at him very seriously; but they both
+smiled as she said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was a momentous month for you then&mdash;the month
+of June, 1914?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very. A charming young girl broke my heart in
+1914; and so I came home, a wreck&mdash;to recuperate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that she laughed outright, glancing at his youthful,
+sunburnt face and lean, vigorous figure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When did <i>you</i> come over?&#8221; he asked curiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have been here longer than you have. In fact,
+I left France the day I last saw you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The same day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I started that very same day&mdash;shortly after sunrise.
+I crossed the Belgian frontier that night, and I
+sailed for New York the morning after. I landed here
+a week later, and I&#8217;ve been here ever since. That, monsieur,
+is my history.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve been here in New York for two years!&#8221; he
+repeated in astonishment. &#8220;Have you really left the
+stage then? I supposed you had just arrived to fill an
+engagement here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They gave me a try-out this afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>You?</i> A try-out!&#8221; he exclaimed, amazed.</p>
+<p>She carelessly transfixed a berry with her fork:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I secure an engagement I shall be very glad to
+fill it ... and my stomach, also. If I don&#8217;t secure
+one&mdash;well&mdash;charity or starvation confronts me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled at her with easy incredulity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had not heard that you were here!&#8221; he repeated.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve read nothing at all about you in the papers&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No ... I am here incognito.... I have taken
+my sister&#8217;s name. After all, your American public does
+not know me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait! I don&#8217;t wish it to know me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But if you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s slight gesture checked him, although her
+smile became humorous and friendly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please! We need not discuss my future. Only the
+past!&#8221; She laughed: &#8220;How it all comes back to me
+now, as you speak&mdash;that crazy evening of ours together!
+What children we were&mdash;two years ago!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Smilingly she clasped her hands together on the
+table&#8217;s edge, regarding him with that winning directness
+which was a celebrated part of her celebrated personality;
+and happened to be natural to her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did I not recognise you immediately?&#8221; she demanded
+of herself, frowning in self-reproof. &#8220;I <i>am</i>
+stupid! Also I have, now and then, thought about
+you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She shrugged her shoulders, and again her
+face faltered subtly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Much has happened to distract my memories,&#8221; she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
+added carelessly, impaling a strawberry, &#8220;&mdash;since you
+and I took the key to the fields and the road to the
+moon&mdash;like the pair of irresponsibles we were that night
+in June.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you really had trouble?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her slim figure straightened as at a challenge, then
+became adorably supple again; and she rested her elbows
+on the table&#8217;s edge and took her cheeks between
+her hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Trouble?&#8221; she repeated, studying his face. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+know that word, trouble. I don&#8217;t admit such a word
+to the honour of my happy vocabulary.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They both laughed a little.</p>
+<p>She said, still looking at him, and at first speaking
+as though to herself:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course, you are that same, delightful Garry!
+My youthful American accomplice!... Quite unspoiled,
+still, but very, very irresponsible ... like all
+painters&mdash;like all students. And the mischief which is
+in me recognised the mischief in you, I suppose....
+I <i>did</i> surprise you that night, didn&#8217;t I?... And what
+a night! What a moon! And how we danced there on
+the wet lawn until my skirts and slippers and stockings
+were drenched with dew!... And how we laughed!
+Oh, that full-hearted, full-throated laughter of ours!
+How wonderful that we have lived to laugh like that!
+It is something to remember after death. Just think
+of it!&mdash;you and I, absolute strangers, dancing every
+dance there in the drenched grass to the music that
+came through the open windows.... And do you remember
+how we hid in the flowering bushes when my
+sister and the others came out to look for me? How
+they called, &#8216;Nihla! Nihla! Little devil, where are you?&#8217;
+Oh, it was funny&mdash;funny! And to see <i>him</i> come out on
+the lawn&mdash;do you remember? He looked so fat and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span>
+stupid and anxious and bad-tempered! And you and I
+expiring with stifled laughter! And he, with his sash,
+his decorations and his academic palms! He&#8217;d have
+shot us both, you know....&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were laughing unrestrainedly now at the memory
+of that impossible night a year ago; and the girl
+seemed suddenly transformed into an irresponsible
+gamine of eighteen. Her eyes grew brighter with mischief
+and laughter&mdash;laughter, the greatest magician
+and doctor emeritus of them all! The immortal
+restorer of youth and beauty.</p>
+<p>Bluish shadows had gone from under her lower lashes;
+her eyes were starry as a child&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Garry,&#8221; she gasped, laying one slim hand across
+his on the table-cloth, &#8220;it was one of those encounters&mdash;one
+of those heavenly accidents that reconcile one to
+living.... I think the moon had made me a perfect
+lunatic.... Because you don&#8217;t yet know what I
+risked.... Garry!... It ruined me&mdash;ruined me utterly&mdash;our
+night together under the June moon!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; he exclaimed, incredulously.</p>
+<p>But she only laughed her gay, undaunted little laugh:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was worth it! Such moments are worth anything
+we pay for them! I laughed; I pay. What
+of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But if I am partly responsible I wish to know&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You shall know nothing about it! As for me, I
+care nothing about it. I&#8217;d do it again to-night! That
+is living&mdash;to go forward, laugh, and accept what comes&mdash;to
+have heart enough, gaiety enough, brains enough
+to seize the few rare dispensations that the niggardly
+gods fling across this calvary which we call life! <i>Tenez</i>,
+that alone is living; the rest is making the endless stations
+on bleeding knees.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Yet, if I thought&mdash;&#8221; he began, perplexed and troubled,
+&#8220;&mdash;if I thought that through my folly&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Folly! <i>Non pas!</i> Wisdom! Oh, my blessed accomplice!
+And do you remember the canoe? Were
+we indeed quite mad to embark for Paris on the moonlit
+Seine, you and I?&mdash;I in evening gown, soaked with dew
+to the knees!&mdash;you with your sketching block and easel!
+<i>Quelle déménagement en famille!</i> Oh, Garry, my friend
+of gayer days, was that really folly! No, no, no, it
+was infinite wisdom; and its memory is helping me to
+live through this very moment!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She leaned there on her elbows and laughed across
+the cloth at him. The mockery began to dance again
+and glimmer in her eyes:</p>
+<p>&#8220;After all I&#8217;ve told you,&#8221; she added, &#8220;you are no
+wiser, are you? You don&#8217;t know why I never went to
+the Fountain of Marie de Médicis&mdash;whether I forgot to
+go&mdash;whether I remembered but decided that I had had
+quite enough of you. You don&#8217;t know, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He shook his head, smiling. The girl&#8217;s face grew
+gradually serious:</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you never heard anything more about me?&#8221;
+she demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Your name simply disappeared from the billboards,
+kiosques, and newspapers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you heard no malicious gossip? None about
+my sister, either?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;None.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Europe is a senile creature which forgets overnight.
+<i>Tant mieux</i>.... You know, I shall sing and dance
+under my sister&#8217;s name here. I told you that, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! That would be a great mistake&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen! Nihla Quellen disappeared&mdash;married some
+fat bourgeois, died, perhaps,&#8221;&mdash;she shrugged,&mdash;&#8220;anything
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span>
+you wish, my friend. Who cares to listen to what
+is said about a dancing girl in all this din of war?
+Who is interested?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was scarcely a question, yet her eyes seemed to
+make it so.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who cares?&#8221; she repeated impatiently. &#8220;Who remembers?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have remembered you,&#8221; he said, meeting her intently
+questioning gaze.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You? Oh, you are not like those others over there.
+Your country is not at war. You still have leisure to
+remember. But they forget. They haven&#8217;t time to remember
+anything&mdash;anybody&mdash;over there. Don&#8217;t you
+think so?&#8221; She turned in her chair unconsciously, and
+gazed eastward. &#8220;&mdash;They have forgotten me over
+there&mdash;&#8221; And her lips tightened, contracted, bitten into
+silence.</p>
+<p>The strange beauty of the girl left him dumb. He
+was recalling, now, all that he had ever heard concerning
+her. The gossip of Europe had informed him that,
+though Nihla Quellen was passionately and devotedly
+French in soul and heart, her mother had been one of
+those unmoral and lovely Georgians, and her father an
+Alsatian, named Dunois&mdash;a French officer who entered
+the Russian service ultimately, and became a hunting
+cheetah for the Grand Duke Cyril, until himself hunted
+into another world by that old bag of bones on the pale
+and shaky nag. His daughter took the name of Nihla
+Quellen and what money was left, and made her début
+in Constantinople.</p>
+<p>As the young fellow sat there watching her, all the
+petty gossip of Europe came back to him&mdash;anecdotes,
+panegyrics, eulogies, scandals, stage chatter, Quarter
+&#8220;divers,&#8221; paid réclames&mdash;all that he had ever read and
+heard about this notorious young girl, now seated there
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span>
+across the table, with her pretty head framed by slender,
+unjewelled fingers. He remembered the gems she
+had worn that June night, a year ago, and their magnificence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; she said, &#8220;life is a pleasantry, a jest, a bon-mot
+flung over his shoulder by some god too drunk with
+nectar to invent a better joke. Life is an Olympian
+epigram made between immortal yawns. What do you
+think of <i>my</i> epigram, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think you are just as clever and amusing as I
+remember you, Nihla.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Amusing to <i>you</i>, perhaps. But I don&#8217;t entertain
+myself very successfully. I don&#8217;t think poverty is a
+very funny joke. Do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poverty!&#8221; he repeated, smiling his unbelief.</p>
+<p>She smiled too, displayed her pretty, ringless hands
+humorously, for his inspection, then framed her oval
+face between them again and made a deliberate grimace.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All gone,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I am, as you say, here on my
+uppers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t understand, Nihla&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t try to. It doesn&#8217;t concern you. Also, please
+forget me as Nihla Quellen. I told you that I&#8217;ve taken
+my sister&#8217;s name, Thessalie Dunois.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But all Europe knows you as Nihla Quellen&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen!&#8221; she interrupted sharply. &#8220;I have troubles
+enough. Don&#8217;t add to them, or I shall be sorry I met
+you again. I tell you my name is Thessa. Please remember
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; he said, reddening under the rebuke.</p>
+<p>She noted the painful colour in his face, then looked
+elsewhere, indifferently. Her features remained expressionless
+for a while. After a few moments she looked
+around at him again, and her smile began to glimmer:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s only this,&#8221; she said; &#8220;the girl you met once in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
+your life&mdash;the dancing singing-girl they knew over
+there&mdash;is already an episode to be forgotten. End her
+career any way you wish, Garry,&mdash;natural death, suicide&mdash;or
+she can repent and take the veil, if you like&mdash;or perish
+at sea&mdash;only end her.... Please?&#8221; she
+added, with the sweet, trailing inflection characteristic
+of her.</p>
+<p>He nodded. The girl smiled mischievously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t nod your head so owlishly and pretend to understand.
+You don&#8217;t understand. Only two or three
+people do. And I hope they&#8217;ll believe me dead, even if
+you are not polite enough to agree with them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can you expect to maintain your incognito?&#8221;
+he insisted. &#8220;There will be plenty of people in your
+very first audience&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had a sister, did I not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Was</i> she your sister?&mdash;the one who danced with
+you&mdash;the one called Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. But the play-bills said she was. Now, I&#8217;ve
+told you something that nobody knows except two or
+three unpleasant devils&mdash;&#8221; She dropped her arms on
+the table and leaned a trifle forward:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, pouf!&#8221; she said. &#8220;Don&#8217;t let&#8217;s be mysterious
+and dramatic, you and I. I&#8217;ll tell you: I gave that
+woman the last of my jewels and she promised to disappear
+and leave her name to me to use. It was my
+own name, anyway, Thessalie Dunois. Now, you know.
+Be as discreet and nice as I once found you. Will
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Of course,&#8217;&#8221; she repeated, smiling, and with a little
+twitch of her shoulders, as though letting fall a burdensome
+cloak. &#8220;Allons! With a free heart, then! I
+am Thessalie Dunois; I am here; I am poor&mdash;don&#8217;t be
+frightened! I shall not borrow&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s rotten, Thessa!&#8221; he said, turning very red.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, go lightly, please, my friend Garry. I have no
+claim on you. Besides, I know men&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t appear to!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tiens! Our first quarrel!&#8221; she exclaimed, laughingly.
+&#8220;This is indeed serious&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you need aid&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t! Please, why do you scowl at me? Do
+you then wish I needed aid? Yours? Allez, Monsieur
+Garry, if I did I&#8217;d venture, perhaps, to say so to you.
+Does that make amends?&#8221; she added sweetly.</p>
+<p>She clasped her white hands on the cloth and looked
+at him with that engaging, humorous little air which
+had so easily captivated her audiences in Europe&mdash;that,
+and her voice with the hint of recklessness ever
+echoing through its sweetness and youthful gaiety.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing in New York?&#8221; she asked.
+&#8220;Painting?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have a studio, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But no clients? Is that it? Pouf! Everybody begins
+that way. I sang in a café at Dijon for five francs
+and my soup! At Rennes I nearly starved. Oh, yes,
+Garry, in spite of a number of obliging gentlemen who,
+like you, offered&mdash;first aid&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is absolutely rotten of you, Thessa. Did I
+ever&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No! For goodness&#8217; sake let me jest with you without
+flying into tempers!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, pouf! I shall not quarrel with you! Whatever
+you and I were going to say during the next ten minutes
+shall remain unsaid!... Now, the ten minutes are
+over; now, we&#8217;re reconciled and you are in good humour
+again. And now, tell me about yourself, your
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
+painting&mdash;in other words, tell me the things about yourself
+that would interest a friend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your friend? Yes, I am&mdash;if you wish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do wish it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I am your friend. I once had a wonderful
+evening with you.... I&#8217;m having a very good time
+now. You were <i>nice</i> to me, Garry. I really was sorry
+not to see you again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;At the fountain of Marie de Médicis,&#8221; he said reproachfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Flatter yourself, monsieur, because I did <i>not</i>
+forget our rendezvous. I might have forgotten it easily
+enough&mdash;there was sufficient excuse, God knows&mdash;a girl
+awakened by the crash of ruin&mdash;springing out of bed
+to face the end of the world without a moment&#8217;s warning&mdash;yes,
+the end of all things&mdash;death, too! Tenez, it
+was permissible to forget our rendezvous under such
+circumstances, was it not? But&mdash;I did <i>not</i> forget. I
+thought about it in a dumb, calm way all the while&mdash;even
+while <i>he</i> stood there denouncing me, threatening
+me, noisy, furious&mdash;with the button of the Legion in
+his lapel&mdash;and an ugly pistol which he waved in the
+air&mdash;&#8221; She laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it was not at all gay, I assure you.... And
+even when I took to my heels after he had gone&mdash;for
+it was a matter of life or death, and I hadn&#8217;t a minute
+to lose&mdash;oh, very dramatic, of course, for I ran away
+in disguise and I had a frightful time of it leaving
+France! Well, even then, at top speed and scared to
+death, I remembered the fountain of Marie de Médicis,
+and you. Don&#8217;t be too deeply flattered. I remembered
+these items principally because they had caused my
+downfall.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I? I caused&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;No. <i>I</i> caused it! It was I who went out on the
+lawn. It was I who came across to see who was painting
+by moonlight. That began it&mdash;seeing you there&mdash;in
+moonlight bright enough to read by&mdash;bright enough
+to paint by. Oh, Garry&mdash;and you were <i>so</i> good-looking!
+It was the moon&mdash;and the way you smiled at me.
+And they all were dancing inside, and <i>he</i> was so big
+and fat and complacent, dancing away in there!...
+And so I fell a prey to folly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Was it really our escapade that&mdash;that ruined you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well&mdash;it was partly that. Pouf! It is over. And
+I am here. So are you. It&#8217;s been nice to see you....
+Please call our waiter.&#8221; She glanced at her
+cheap, leather wrist watch.</p>
+<p>As they rose and left the dining-room, he asked her
+if they were not to see each other again. A one-eyed
+man, close behind them, listened for her reply.</p>
+<p>She continued to walk on slowly beside him without
+answering, until they reached the rotunda.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you wish to see me again?&#8221; she enquired abruptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you also wish it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, Garry.... I&#8217;ve been annoyed in
+New York&mdash;bothered&mdash;seriously.... I can&#8217;t explain,
+but somehow&mdash;I don&#8217;t seem to wish to begin a friendship
+with anybody....&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ours began two years ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did it not, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps.... I don&#8217;t know. After all&mdash;it doesn&#8217;t
+matter. I think&mdash;I think we had better say good-bye&mdash;until
+some happy hazard&mdash;like to-day&#8217;s encounter&mdash;&#8221;
+She hesitated, looked up at him, laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is your studio?&#8221; she asked mischievously.</p>
+<p>The one-eyed man at their heels was listening.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span>
+<a name='V_IN_DRAGON_COURT' id='V_IN_DRAGON_COURT'></a>
+<h2>V
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />IN DRAGON COURT</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>There was a young moon in the southwest&mdash;a
+slender tracery in the April twilight&mdash;curved
+high over his right shoulder as he walked northward
+and homeward through the flare of Broadway.</p>
+<p>His thoughts were still occupied with the pleasant
+excitement of his encounter with Thessalie Dunois; his
+mind and heart still responded to the delightful stimulation.
+Out of an already half-forgotten realm of romance,
+where, often now, he found it increasingly difficult
+to realise that he had lived for five happy years,
+a young girl had suddenly emerged as bodily witness,
+to corroborate, revive, and refresh his fading faith in
+the reality of what once had been.</p>
+<p>Five years in France!&mdash;France with its clear sun
+and lovely moon; <ins title='Was it'>its</ins> silver-grey cities, its lilac haze, its
+sweet, deep greenness, its atmosphere of living light!&mdash;France,
+the dwelling-place of God in all His myriad
+aspects&mdash;in all His protean forms! France, the sanctuary
+of Truth and all her ancient and her future
+liberties; France, blossoming domain of Love in Love&#8217;s
+million exquisite transfigurations, wherein only the eye
+of faith can recognise the winged god amid his camouflage!</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Wine-strong winds of the Western World, and a pitiless
+Western sun which etches every contour with terrible
+precision, leaving nothing to imagination&mdash;no delicate
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
+mystery to rest and shelter souls&mdash;had swept away
+and partly erased from his mind the actuality of those
+five past years.</p>
+<p>Already that past, of which he had been a part, was
+becoming disturbingly unreal to him. Phantoms
+haunted its ever-paling sunlight; its scenes were fading;
+its voices grew vague and distant; its hushed
+laughter dwindled to a whisper, dying like a sigh.</p>
+<p>Then, suddenly, against that misty tapestry of tinted
+spectres, appeared Thessalie Dunois in the flesh!&mdash;straight
+out of the phantom-haunted void had stepped
+this glowing thing of life! Into the raw reek and familiar
+dissonance of Broadway she had vanished. Small
+wonder that he had followed her to keep in touch with
+the vanishing past, as a sleeper, waking against his will,
+strives still to grasp the fragile fabric of a happy
+dream.</p>
+<p>Yet, in spite of Thessalie, in spite of dreams, in spite
+of his own home-coming, and the touch of familiar
+pavements under his own feet, the past, to Barres, was
+utterly dead, the present strange and unreal, the future
+obscure and all aflame behind a world afire with war.</p>
+<p>For two years, now, no human mind in America had
+been able to adjust itself to the new heaven and the
+new earth which had sprung into lurid being at the
+thunderclap of war.</p>
+<p>All things familiar had changed in the twinkling of
+an eye; all former things had passed away, leaving the
+stunned brain of humanity dulled under the shock.</p>
+<p>Slowly, by degrees, the world was beginning to realise
+that the civilisation of Christ was being menaced once
+again by a resurgence from that ancient land of legend
+where the wild Hun denned;&mdash;that again the endless
+hordes of barbarians were rushing in on Europe out
+of their Eastern fastnesses&mdash;hordes which filled the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span>
+shrinking skies with their clamour, vaunting the might
+of Baal, cheering their antichrist, drenching the knees
+of their own red gods with the blood of little children.</p>
+<p>It seemed impossible for Americans to understand
+that these things could be&mdash;were really true&mdash;that the
+horrors the papers printed were actualities happening
+to civilised people like themselves and their neighbours.</p>
+<p>Out of their own mouths the German tribes thundered
+their own disgrace and condemnation, yet America
+sat dazed, incredulous, motionless. Emperor and
+general, professor and junker, shouted at the top of
+their lungs the new creed, horrible as the Black Mass,
+reversing every precept taught by Christ.</p>
+<p>Millions of Teuton mouths cheered fiercely for the
+new religion&mdash;Frightfulness; worshipped with frantic
+yells the new trinity&mdash;Wotan, Kaiser and Brute
+Strength.</p>
+<p><ins title='Was Stunnned'>Stunned</ins>, blinded, deafened, the Western World, still
+half-paralysed, stirred stiffly from its inertia. Slowly,
+mechanically, its arteries resumed their functions; the
+reflex, operating automatically, started trade again in
+its old channels; old habits were timidly resumed; minds
+groped backward, searching for severed threads which
+connected yesterday with to-day&mdash;groped, hunted,
+found nothing, and, perplexed, turned slowly toward
+the smoke-choked future for some reason for it all&mdash;some
+outlook.</p>
+<p>There was no explanation, no outlook&mdash;nothing save
+dust and flame and the din of Teutonic hordes trampling
+to death the Son of Man.</p>
+<p>So America moved about her worn, deep-trodden and
+familiar ways, her mind slowly clearing from the cataclysmic
+concussion, her power of vision gradually returning,
+adjusting itself, little by little, to this new
+heaven and new earth and this hell entirely new.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></div>
+<p>The <i>Lusitania</i> went down; the Great Republic merely
+quivered. Other ships followed; only a low murmur
+of pain came from the Western Colossus.</p>
+<p>But now, after the second year, through the thickening
+nightmare the Great Republic groaned aloud; and
+a new note of menace sounded in her drugged and
+dreary voice.</p>
+<p>And the thick ears of the Hun twitched and he
+paused, squatting belly-deep in blood, to listen.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Barres walked homeward. Somewhere along in the
+40&#8217;s he turned eastward into one of those cross-streets
+originally built up of brownstone dwelling houses, and
+now in process of transformation into that architectural
+and commercial miscellany which marks the transition
+stage of the metropolis anywhere from Westchester
+to the sea.</p>
+<p>Altered for business purposes, basements displayed
+signs and merchandise of bootmakers, dealers in oriental
+porcelains, rare prints, silverware; parlour windows
+modified into bay windows, sheeted with plate-glass, exposed,
+perhaps, feminine headgear, or an expensive
+model gown or two, or the sign of a real-estate man,
+or of an upholsterer.</p>
+<p>Above the parlour floors lived people of one sort or
+another; furnished and unfurnished rooms and suites
+prevailed; and the brownstone monotony was already
+indented along the building line by brand-new constructions
+of Indiana limestone, behind the glittering plate-glass
+of which were to be seen reticent displays of
+artistic furniture, modern and antique oil paintings,
+here and there the lace-curtained den of some superior
+ladies&#8217; hair-dresser, where beautifying also was accomplished
+at a price, alas!</p>
+<p>Halfway between Sixth Avenue and Fifth, on the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span>
+north side of the street, an enterprising architect had
+purchased half a dozen squatty, three-storied houses,
+set back from the sidewalk behind grass-plots. These
+had been lavishly stuccoed and transformed into abodes
+for those irregulars in the army of life known as
+&#8220;artists.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the rear the back fences had been levelled; six
+corresponding houses on the next street had been purchased;
+a sort of inner court established, with a common
+grass-plot planted with trees and embellished by a
+number of concrete works of art, battered statues, sundials,
+and well-curbs.</p>
+<p>Always the army of civilisation trudges along
+screened, flanked, and tagged after by life&#8217;s irregulars,
+who cannot or will not conform to routine. And these
+are always roaming around seeking their own cantonments,
+where, for a while, they seem content to dwell
+at the end of one more aimless étape through the world&mdash;not
+in regulation barracks, but in regions too unconventional,
+too inconvenient to attract others.</p>
+<p>Of this sort was the collection of squatty houses,
+forming a &#8220;community,&#8221; where, in the neighbourhood
+of other irregulars, Garret Barres dwelt; and into the
+lighted entrance of which he now turned, still exhilarated
+by his meeting with Thessalie Dunois.</p>
+<p>The architectural agglomeration was known as
+Dragon Court&mdash;a faïence Fu-dog above the electric
+light over the green entrance door furnishing that priceless
+idea&mdash;a Fu-dog now veiled by mesh-wire to provide
+against the indiscretions of sparrows lured thither by
+housekeeping possibilities lurking among the dense
+screens of Japanese ivy covering the façade.</p>
+<p>Larry Soane, the irresponsible superintendent, always
+turned gardener with April&#8217;s advent in Dragon
+Court, contributions from its denizens enabling him to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span>
+pepper a few flower-beds with hyacinths and tulips, and
+later with geraniums. These former bulbs had now
+gratefully appeared in promising thickets, and Barres
+saw the dark form of the handsome, reckless-looking
+Irishman fussing over them in the lantern-lit dusk,
+while his little daughter, Dulcie, kneeling on the dim
+grass, caressed the first blue hyacinth blossom with
+thin, childish fingers.</p>
+<p>Barres glanced into his letter-box behind the desk,
+above which a drop-light threw more shadows than
+illumination. Little Dulcie Soane was supposed to sit
+under it and emit information, deliver and receive letters,
+pay charges on packages, and generally supervise
+things when she was not attending school.</p>
+<p>There were no letters for the young man. He examined
+a package, found it contained his collars from
+the laundry, tucked them under his left arm, and
+walked to the door looking out upon the dusky interior
+court.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soane,&#8221; he said, &#8220;your garden begins to look very
+fine.&#8221; He nodded pleasantly to Dulcie, and the child
+responded to his friendly greeting with the tired but
+dauntless smile of the young who are missing those
+golden years to which all childhood has a claim.</p>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s three cats came strolling out of the dusk
+across the lamplit grass&mdash;a coal black one with sea-green
+eyes, known as &#8220;The Prophet,&#8221; and his platonic
+mate, white as snow, and with magnificent azure-blue
+eyes which, in white cats, usually betokens total deafness.
+She was known as &#8220;The Houri&#8221; to the irregulars
+of Dragon Court. The third cat, unanimously but misleadingly
+christened &#8220;Strindberg&#8221; by the dwellers in
+Dragon Court, has already crooked her tortoise-shell
+tail and was tearing around in eccentric circles or darting
+halfway up trees in a manner characteristic, and,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span>
+possibly accounting for the name, if not for the sex.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thim cats of the kid&#8217;s,&#8221; observed Soane, &#8220;do be
+scratchin&#8217; up the plants all night long&mdash;bad cess to
+thim! Barrin&#8217; thim three omadhauns yonder, I&#8217;d show
+ye a purty bed o&#8217; poisies, Misther Barres. But Sthrin&#8217;berg,
+God help her, is f&#8217;r diggin&#8217; through to China.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie impulsively caressed the Prophet, who turned
+his solemn, incandescent eyes on Barres. The Houri
+also looked at him, then, intoxicated by the soft spring
+evening, rolled lithely upon the new grass and lay there
+twitching her snowy tail and challenging the stars out
+of eyes that matched their brilliance.</p>
+<p>Dulcie got up and walked slowly across the grass to
+where Barres stood:</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I come to see you this evening?&#8221; she asked,
+diffidently, and with a swift, sidelong glance toward
+her father.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, then, don&#8217;t be worritin&#8217; him!&#8221; grumbled Soane.
+&#8220;Hasn&#8217;t Misther Barres enough to do, what with all
+thim idees he has slitherin&#8217; in his head, an&#8217; all the books
+an&#8217; learnin&#8217; an&#8217; picters he has to think of&mdash;whithout
+the likes of you at his heels every blessed minute, day
+an&#8217; night!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But he always lets me&mdash;&#8221; she remonstrated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan, now, and lave the poor gentleman be! Quit
+your futtherin&#8217; an&#8217; muttherin&#8217;. G&#8217;wan in the house, ye
+little scut, an&#8217; see what there is f&#8217;r ye to do!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter with you, Soane?&#8221; interrupted
+Barres good-humouredly. &#8220;Of course she can come up
+if she wants to. Do you feel like paying me a visit,
+Dulcie, before you go to bed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she nodded diffidently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, come ahead then, Sweetness! And whenever
+you want to come you say so. Your father knows well
+enough I like to have you.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></div>
+<p>He smiled at Dulcie; the child&#8217;s shy preference for
+his society always had amused him. Besides, she was
+always docile and obedient; and she was very sensitive,
+too, never outwearing her welcome in his studio, and
+always leaving without a murmur when, looking up
+from book or drawing he would exclaim cheerfully:
+&#8220;Now, Sweetness! Time&#8217;s up! Bed for yours, little
+lady!&#8221;</p>
+<p>It had been a very gradual acquaintance between
+them&mdash;more than two years in developing. From his
+first pleasant nod to her when he first came to live in
+Dragon Court, it had progressed for a few months,
+conservatively on her part, and on his with a detached
+but kindly interest born of easy sympathy for youth
+and loneliness.</p>
+<p>But he had no idea of the passionate response he was
+stirring in the motherless, neglected child&mdash;of what
+hunger he was carelessly stimulating, what latent qualities
+and dormant characteristics he was arousing.</p>
+<p>Her appearance, one evening, in her night-dress at
+his studio doorway, accompanied by her three cats, began
+to enlighten him in regard to her mental starvation.
+Tremulous, almost at the point of tears, she had
+asked for a book and permission to remain for a few
+moments in the studio. He had rung for Selinda, ordered
+fruit, cake, and a glass of milk, and had installed
+Dulcie upon the sofa with a lapful of books. That
+was the beginning.</p>
+<p>But Barres still did not entirely understand what
+particular magnet drew the child to his studio. The
+place was full of beautiful things, books, rugs, pictures,
+fine old furniture, cabinets glimmering with porcelains,
+ivories, jades, Chinese crystals. These all, in minutest
+detail, seemed to fascinate the girl. Yet, after giving
+her permission to enter whenever she desired, often
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span>
+while reading or absorbed in other affairs, he became
+conscious of being watched; and, glancing up, would
+frequently surprise her sitting there very silently, with
+an open book on her knees, and her strange grey eyes
+intently fixed on him.</p>
+<p>Then he would always smile and say something
+friendly; and usually forget her the next moment in
+his absorption of whatever work he had under way.</p>
+<p>Only one other man inhabiting Dragon Court ever
+took the trouble to notice or speak to the child&mdash;James
+Westmore, the sculptor. And he was very friendly in
+his vigorous, jolly, rather boisterous way, catching her
+up and tossing her about as gaily and irresponsibly as
+though she were a rag doll; and always telling her he
+was her adopted godfather and would have to chastise
+her if she ever deserved it. Also, he was always urging
+her to hurry and grow up, because he had a wedding
+present for her. And though Dulcie&#8217;s smile was
+friendly, and Westmore&#8217;s nonsense pleased the shy
+child, she merely submitted, never made any advance.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Barres&#8217;s ménage was accomplished by two specimens
+of mankind, totally opposite in sex and colour;
+Selinda, a blonde, slant-eyed, and very trim Finn, doing
+duty as maid; and Aristocrates W. Johnson, lately
+employed in the capacity of waiter on a dining-car by
+the New York Central Railroad&mdash;tall, dignified, graceful,
+and Ethiopian&mdash;who cooked as daintily as a débutante
+trifling with culinary duty, and served at table
+with the languid condescension of a dilettante and
+wealthy amateur of domestic arts.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Barres ascended the two low, easy flights of stairs
+and unlocked his door. Aristocrates, setting the table
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span>
+in the dining-room, approached gracefully and relieved
+his master of hat, coat, and stick.</p>
+<p>Half an hour later, a bath and fresh linen keyed
+up his already lively spirits; he whistled while he tied
+his tie, took a critical look at himself, and, dropping
+both hands into the pockets of his dinner jacket, walked
+out into the big studio, which also was his living-room.</p>
+<p>There was a piano there; he sat down and rattled
+off a rollicking air from the most recent spring production,
+beginning to realise that he was keyed up for
+something livelier than a solitary dinner at home.</p>
+<p>His hands fell from the keys and he swung around on
+the piano stool and looked into the dining-room rather
+doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aristocrates!&#8221; he called.</p>
+<p>The tall pullman butler sauntered gracefully in.</p>
+<p>Barres gave him a telephone number to call. Aristocrates
+returned presently with the information that
+the lady was not at home.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. Try Amsterdam 6703. Ask for Miss
+Souval.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Miss Souval, also, was out.</p>
+<p>Barres possessed a red-leather covered note-book; he
+went to his desk and got it; and under his direction
+Aristocrates called up several numbers, reporting adversely
+in every case.</p>
+<p>It was a fine evening; ladies were abroad or preparing
+to fulfil engagements wisely made on such a day
+as this had been. And the more numbers he called up
+the lonelier the young man began to feel.</p>
+<p>Thessalie had not given him either her address or
+telephone number. It would have been charming to
+have her dine with him. He was now thoroughly inclined
+for company. He glanced at the empty dining-room
+with aversion.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;All right; never mind,&#8221; he said, dismissing Aristocrates,
+who receded as lithely as though leading a
+cake-walk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The devil,&#8221; muttered the young fellow. &#8220;I&#8217;m not
+going to dine here alone. I&#8217;ve had too happy a day
+of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He got up restlessly and began to pace the studio.
+He knew he could get some man, but he didn&#8217;t want
+one. However, it began to look like that or a solitary
+dinner.</p>
+<p>So after a few more moments&#8217; scowling cogitation
+he went out and down the stairs, with the vague idea
+of inviting some brother painter&mdash;any one of the regular
+irregulars who inhabited Dragon Court.</p>
+<p>Dulcie sat behind the little desk near the door, head
+bowed, her thin hands clasped over the closed ledger,
+and in her pallid face the expressionless dullness of a
+child forgotten.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Sweetness!&#8221; he said cheerfully.</p>
+<p>She looked up; a slight colour tinted her cheeks, and
+she smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing? That&#8217;s a very dreary malady&mdash;nothing.
+You look lonely. Are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t know whether you are lonely or not?&#8221; he
+demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose I am,&#8221; she ventured, with a shy smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is your father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He went out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any letters for me&mdash;or messages?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A man&mdash;he had one eye&mdash;came. He asked who you
+are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I think he was German. He had only one eye. He
+asked your name.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did you say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I told him. Then he went away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres shrugged:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somebody who wants to sell artists&#8217; materials,&#8221; he
+concluded. Then he looked at the girl: &#8220;So you&#8217;re
+lonely, are you? Where are your three cats? Aren&#8217;t
+they company for you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes....&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then,&#8221; he said gaily, &#8220;why not give a party
+for them? That ought to amuse you, Dulcie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The child still smiled; Barres walked on past her
+a pace or two, halted, turned irresolutely, arrived at
+some swift decision, and came back, suddenly understanding
+that he need seek no further&mdash;that he had
+discovered his guest of the evening at his very elbow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you and your father have your supper, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My father went out to eat at Grogan&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can find something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not dine with me?&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+<p>The child stared, bewildered, then went a little pale.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall we have a dinner party for two&mdash;you and I,
+Dulcie? What do you say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She said nothing, but her big grey eyes were fixed
+on him in a passion of inquiry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A real party,&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;Let the people get
+their own mail and packages until your father returns.
+Nobody&#8217;s going to sneak in, anyway. Or, if that won&#8217;t
+do, I&#8217;ll call up Grogan&#8217;s and tell your father to come
+back because you are going to dine in my studio with
+me. Do you know the telephone number? Very well;
+get Grogan&#8217;s for me. I&#8217;ll speak to your father.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></div>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s hand trembled on the receiver as she called
+up Grogan&#8217;s; Barres bent over the transmitter:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soane, Dulcie is going to take dinner in my studio
+with me. You&#8217;ll have to come back on duty, when
+you&#8217;ve eaten.&#8221; He hung up, looked at Dulcie and
+laughed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wanted company as much as you did,&#8221; he confessed.
+&#8220;Now, go and put on your prettiest frock, and
+we&#8217;ll be very grand and magnificent. And afterward
+we&#8217;ll talk and look at books and pretty things&mdash;and
+maybe we&#8217;ll turn on the Victrola and I&#8217;ll teach you to
+dance&mdash;&#8221; He had already begun to ascend the stairs:</p>
+<p>&#8220;In half an hour, Dulcie!&#8221; he called back; &#8220;&mdash;and
+you may bring the Prophet if you like.... Shall I
+ask Mr. Westmore to join us?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d rather be all alone with you,&#8221; she said shyly.</p>
+<p>He laughed and ran on up the stairs.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>In half an hour the electric bell rang very timidly.
+Aristocrates, having been instructed and rehearsed,
+and, loftily condescending to his rôle in a kindly comedy
+to be played seriously, announced: &#8220;Miss Soane!&#8221; in
+his most courtly manner.</p>
+<p>Barres threw aside the evening paper and came forward,
+taking both hands of the white and slightly
+frightened child.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aristocrates ought to have announced the Prophet,
+too,&#8221; he said gaily, breaking the ice and swinging Dulcie
+around to face the open door again.</p>
+<p>The Prophet entered, perfectly at ease, his eyes of
+living jade shining, his tail urbanely hoisted.</p>
+<p>Dulcie ventured to smile; Barres laughed outright;
+Aristocrates surveyed the Prophet with toleration mingled
+with a certain respect. For a black cat is never
+without occult significance to a gentleman of colour.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></div>
+<p>With Dulcie&#8217;s hand still in his, Barres led her into
+the living-room, where, presently, Aristocrates brought
+a silver tray upon which was a glass of iced orange
+juice for Dulcie, and a &#8220;Bronnix,&#8221; as Aristocrates
+called it, for the master.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To your health and good fortune in life, Dulcie,&#8221;
+he said politely.</p>
+<p>The child gazed mutely at him over her glass, then,
+blushing, ventured to taste her orange juice.</p>
+<p>When she finished, Barres drew her frail arm through
+his and took her out, seating her. Ceremonies began
+in silence, and the master of the place was not quite
+sure whether the flush on Dulcie&#8217;s face indicated unhappy
+embarrassment or pleasure.</p>
+<p>He need not have worried: the child adored it all.
+The Prophet came in and gravely seated himself on a
+neighbouring chair, whence he could survey the table
+and seriously inspect each course.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie,&#8221; he said, &#8220;how grown-up you look with your
+bobbed hair put up, and your fluffy gown.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She lifted her enchanted eyes to him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is my first communion dress.... I&#8217;ve had to
+make it longer for a graduation dress.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s so; you&#8217;re graduating this summer!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing.&#8221; She sighed unconsciously and sat very
+still with folded hands, while Aristocrates refilled her
+glass of water.</p>
+<p>She no longer felt embarrassed; her gravity matched
+Aristocrates&#8217;s; she seriously accepted whatever was offered
+or set before her, but Barres noticed that she ate
+it all, merely leaving on her plate, with inculcated and
+mathematical precision, a small portion as concession
+to good manners.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></div>
+<p>They had, toward the banquet&#8217;s end, water ices, bon-bons,
+French pastry, and ice cream. And presently a
+slight and blissful sigh of repletion escaped the child&#8217;s
+red lips. The symptoms were satisfactory but unmistakable;
+Dulcie was perfectly feminine; her capacity
+had proven it.</p>
+<p>The Prophet&#8217;s stately self-control in the fragrant
+vicinity of nourishment was now to be rewarded: Barres
+conducted Dulcie to the studio and installed her among
+cushions upon a huge sofa. Then, lighting a cigarette,
+he dropped down beside her and crossed one knee over
+the other.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie,&#8221; he said in his lazy, humorous way, &#8220;it&#8217;s a
+funny old world any way you view it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think it is always funny?&#8221; inquired the
+child, her deep, grey eyes on his face.</p>
+<p>He smiled:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do; but sometimes the joke in on one&#8217;s self.
+And then, although it is still a funny world, from the
+world&#8217;s point of view, you, of course, fail to see the
+humour of it.... I don&#8217;t suppose you understand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do,&#8221; nodded the child, with the ghost of a smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really? Well, I was afraid I&#8217;d been talking nonsense,
+but if you understand, it&#8217;s all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They both laughed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you want to look at some books?&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d rather listen to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled:</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. I&#8217;ll begin at this corner of the room and
+tell you about the things in it.&#8221; And for a while he
+rambled lazily on about old French chairs and Spanish
+chests, and the panels of Mille Fleur tapestry which
+hung behind them; the two lovely pre-Raphael panels
+in their exquisite ancient frames; the old Venetian velvet
+covering triple choir-stalls in the corner; the ivory-toned
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span>
+marble figure on its wood and compos pedestal,
+where tendrils and delicate foliations of water gilt had
+become slightly irridescent, harmonising with the patine
+on the ancient Chinese garniture flanking a mantel clock
+of dullest gold.</p>
+<p>About these things, their workmanship, the histories
+of their times, he told her in his easy, unaccented voice,
+glancing sideways at her from time to time to note how
+she stood it.</p>
+<p>But she listened, fascinated, her gaze moving from
+the object discussed to the man who discussed it; her
+slim limbs curled under her, her hands clasped around
+a silken cushion made from the robe of some Chinese
+princess.</p>
+<p>Lounging there beside her, amused, humorously flattered
+by her attention, and perhaps a little touched,
+he held forth a little longer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it a nice party, so far, Dulcie?&#8221; he concluded
+with a smile.</p>
+<p>She flushed, found no words, nodded, and sat with
+lowered head as though pondering.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What would you rather do if you could do what
+you want to in the world, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think a minute.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She thought for a while.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Live with you,&#8221; she said seriously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Dulcie! That is no sort of ambition for a
+growing girl!&#8221; he laughed; and she laughed, too, watching
+his every expression out of grey eyes that were her
+chiefest beauty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a little too young to know what you want
+yet,&#8221; he concluded, still smiling. &#8220;By the time that
+bobbed mop of red hair grows to a proper length, you&#8217;ll
+know more about yourself.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Do you like it up?&#8221; she enquired naïvely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It makes you look older.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want it to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so,&#8221; he nodded, noticing the snowy neck
+which the new coiffure revealed. It was becoming evident
+to him that Dulcie had her own vanities&mdash;little
+pathetic vanities which touched him as he glanced at
+the reconstructed first communion dress and the drooping
+hyacinth pinned at the waist, and the cheap white
+slippers on a foot as slenderly constructed as her long
+and narrow hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did your mother die long ago, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In America?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Ireland.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You look like her, I fancy&mdash;&#8221; thinking of Soane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres had heard Soane hold forth in his cups on
+one or two occasions&mdash;nothing more than the vague
+garrulousness of a Celt made more loquacious by the
+whiskey of one Grogan&mdash;something about his having
+been a gamekeeper in his youth, and that his wife&mdash;&#8220;God
+rest her!&#8221;&mdash;might have held up her head with
+&#8220;anny wan o&#8217; thim in th&#8217; Big House.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Recollecting this, he idly wondered what the story
+might have been&mdash;a young girl&#8217;s perverse infatuation
+for her father&#8217;s gamekeeper, perhaps&mdash;a handsome,
+common, ignorant youth, reckless and irresponsible
+enough to take advantage of her&mdash;probably some such
+story&mdash;resembling similar histories of chauffeurs, riding-masters,
+grooms, and coachmen at home.</p>
+<p>The Prophet came noiselessly into the studio,
+stopped at sight of his little mistress, twitched his tail
+reflectively, then leaped onto a carved table and calmly
+began his ablutions.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></div>
+<p>Barres got up and wound up the Victrola. Then
+he kicked aside a rug or two.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is to be a real party, you know,&#8221; he remarked.
+&#8220;You don&#8217;t dance, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she said diffidently, &#8220;a little.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! That&#8217;s fine!&#8221; he exclaimed.</p>
+<p>Dulcie got off the sofa, shook out her reconstructed
+gown. When he came over to where she stood, she
+laid her hand in his almost solemnly, so overpowering
+had become the heavenly sequence of events. For the
+rite of his hospitality had indeed become a rite to her.
+Never before had she stood in awe, enthralled before
+such an altar as this man&#8217;s hearthstone. Never had
+she dreamed that he who so wondrously served it could
+look at such an offering as hers&mdash;herself.</p>
+<p>But the miracle had happened; altar and priest were
+accepting her; she laid her hand, which trembled, in
+his; gave herself to his guidance and to the celestial
+music, scarcely seeing, scarcely hearing his voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dance delightfully,&#8221; he was saying; &#8220;you&#8217;re a
+born dancer, Dulcie. I do it fairly well myself, and I
+ought to know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was really very much surprised. He was enjoying
+it immensely. When the Victrola gave up the
+ghost he wound it again and came back to resume.
+Under his suggestions and tutelage, they tried more
+intricate steps, devious and ambitious, and Dulcie, unterrified
+by terpsichorean complications, surmounted
+every one with his whispered coaching and expert aid.</p>
+<p>Now it came to a point where time was not for him.
+He was too interested, enjoying it too genuinely.</p>
+<p>Sometimes, when they paused to enable him to resurrect
+the defunct music in the Victrola, they laughed at
+the Prophet, who sat upon the ancient carved table,
+gravely surveying them. Sometimes they rested because
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span>
+he thought she ought to&mdash;himself a trifle pumped&mdash;only
+to find, to his amazement, that he need not be
+solicitous concerning her.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>A tall and ancient clock ringing midnight from clear,
+uncompromising bells, brought Barres to himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good Lord!&#8221; he exclaimed, &#8220;this won&#8217;t do! Dear
+child, I&#8217;m having a wonderful time, but I&#8217;ve got to deliver
+you to your father!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He drew her arm through his, laughingly pretending
+horror and haste; she fled lightly along beside him as
+he whisked her through the hall and down the stairs.</p>
+<p>A candle burned on the desk. Soane sat there,
+asleep, and odorous of alcohol, his flushed face buried
+in his arms.</p>
+<p>But Soane was what is known as a &#8220;sob-souse&#8221;;
+never ugly in his cups, merely inclined to weep over
+the immemorial wrongs of Ireland.</p>
+<p>He woke up when Barres touched his shoulder,
+rubbed his swollen eyes and black, curly head, gazed
+tragically at his daughter:</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan to bed, ye little scut!&#8221; he said, getting to his
+feet with a terrific yawn.</p>
+<p>Barres took her hand:</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve had a wonderful party, haven&#8217;t we, Sweetness?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; whispered the child.</p>
+<p>The next instant she was gone like a ghost, through
+the dusky, whitewashed corridor where distorted shadows
+trembled in the candlelight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soane,&#8221; said Barres, &#8220;this won&#8217;t do, you know.
+They&#8217;ll sack you if you keep on drinking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man, not yet forty, a battered, middle-aged by-product
+of hale and reckless vigour, passed his hands
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
+over his temples with the dignity of a Hibernian Hamlet:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The harp that wanst through Tara&#8217;s halls&mdash;&#8221; he
+began; but memory failed; and two tears&mdash;by-products,
+also, of Grogan&#8217;s whiskey&mdash;sparkled in his reproachful
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m merely telling you,&#8221; remarked Barres. &#8220;We
+all like you, Soane, but the landlord won&#8217;t stand for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;May God forgive him,&#8221; muttered Soane. &#8220;Was
+there ever a landlord but he was a tyrant, too?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres blew out the candle; a faint light above the
+Fu-dog outside, over the street door, illuminated the
+stone hall.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You ought to keep sober for your little daughter&#8217;s
+sake,&#8221; insisted Barres in a low voice. &#8220;You love her,
+don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do that!&#8221; said Soane&mdash;&#8220;God bless her and her
+poor mother, who could hould up her pretty head with
+anny wan till she tuk up with th&#8217; like o&#8217; me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>His brogue always increased in his cups; devotion
+to Ireland and a lofty scorn of landlords grew with
+both.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better keep away from Grogan&#8217;s,&#8221; remarked
+Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had a bite an&#8217; a sup at Grogan&#8217;s. Is there anny
+harrm in that, sorr?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cut out the &#8216;sup,&#8217; Larry. Cut out that gang of
+bums at Grogan&#8217;s, too. There are too many Germans
+hanging out around Grogan&#8217;s these days. You Sinn
+Feiners or Clan-na-Gael, or whatever you are, had better
+manage your own affairs, anyway. The old-time
+Feinans stood on their own sturdy legs, not on German
+beer-skids.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wisha then, sorr, d&#8217;ye mind th&#8217; ould song they sang
+in thim days:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></div>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Then up steps Bonyparty</i></p>
+<p><i>An&#8217; takes me by the hand,</i></p>
+<p><i>And how is ould Ireland,</i></p>
+<p><i>And how does she shtand?</i></p>
+<p><i>It&#8217;s a poor, disthressed country</i></p>
+<p><i>As ever yet was seen,</i></p>
+<p><i>And they&#8217;re hangin&#8217; men and women</i></p>
+<p><i>For the wearing of the green!</i></p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p><i>Oh, the wearing of the</i>&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;ll do,&#8221; said Barres drily. &#8220;Do you want to
+wake the house? Don&#8217;t go to Grogan&#8217;s and talk about
+Ireland to any Germans. I&#8217;ll tell you why: we&#8217;ll probably
+be at war with Germany ourselves within a year,
+and that&#8217;s a pretty good reason for you Irish to keep
+clear of all Germans. Go to bed!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span>
+<a name='VI_DULCIE' id='VI_DULCIE'></a>
+<h2>VI
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />DULCIE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>One warm afternoon late in spring, Dulcie Soane,
+returning from school to Dragon Court, found
+her father behind the desk, as usual, awaiting
+his daughter&#8217;s advent, to release him from duty.</p>
+<p>A tall, bony man with hectic and sunken cheeks and
+only a single eye was standing by the desk, earnestly
+engaged in whispered conversation with her father.</p>
+<p>He drew aside instantly as Dulcie came up and laid
+her school books on the desk. Soane, already redolent
+of Grogan&#8217;s whiskey, pushed back his chair and got to
+his feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan in f&#8217;r a bite an&#8217; a sup,&#8221; he said to his daughter,
+&#8220;while I talk to the gintleman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Dulcie went slowly into the superintendent&#8217;s dingy
+quarters for her mid-day meal, which was dinner; and
+between her and a sloppy scrub-woman who cooked for
+them, she managed to warm up and eat what Soane had
+left for her from his own meal.</p>
+<p>When she returned to the desk in the hall, the one-eyed
+man had gone. Soane sat on the chair behind
+the desk, his face over-red and shiny, his heels drumming
+the devil&#8217;s tattoo on the tessellated pavement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be at Grogan&#8217;s,&#8221; he said, as Dulcie seated herself
+in the ancient leather chair behind the desk telephone,
+and began to sort the pile of mail which the
+postman evidently had just delivered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; she murmured absently, turning around
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span>
+and beginning to distribute the letters and parcels in
+the various numbered compartments behind her. Soane
+slid off his chair to his feet and straightened up,
+stretching and yawning.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Av anny wan tilliphones to Misther Barres,&#8221; he
+said, &#8220;listen in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen in, I&#8217;m tellin&#8217; you. And if it&#8217;s a lady, ask
+her name first, and then listen in. And if she says her
+name is Quellen or Dunois, mind what she says to
+Misther Barres.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; enquired Dulcie, astonished.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Becuz I&#8217;m tellin&#8217; ye!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall not do that,&#8221; said the girl, flushing up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, bother! Sure, there&#8217;s no harm in it, Dulcie!
+Would I be askin&#8217; ye to do wrong, asthore? Me who
+is your own blood and kin? Listen then: &#8217;Tis a woman
+what do be botherin&#8217; the poor young gentleman, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;ll not have him f&#8217;r to be put upon. Listen, m&#8217;acushla,
+and if airy a lady tilliphones, or if she comes futtherin&#8217;
+an&#8217; muttherin&#8217; around here, call me at Grogan&#8217;s and
+I&#8217;ll be soon dishposen&#8217; av the likes av her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has she ever been here&mdash;this lady?&#8221; asked the girl,
+uncertain and painfully perplexed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure has she! Manny&#8217;s the time I&#8217;ve chased her
+out,&#8221; replied Soane glibly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. What does she look like?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;God knows&mdash;annything ye don&#8217;t wish f&#8217;r to look
+like yourself! Sure, I disremember what make of
+woman she might be&mdash;her name&#8217;s enough for you. Call
+me up if she comes or rings. She may be a dangerous
+woman, at that,&#8221; he added, &#8220;so speak fair to her and
+listen in to what she says.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie slowly nodded, looking at him hard.</p>
+<p>Soane put on his faded brown hat at an angle, fished
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span>
+a cigar with a red and gold band from his fancy but
+soiled waistcoat, scratched a match on the seat of his
+greasy pants, and sauntered out through the big, whitewashed
+hallway into the street, with a touch of the
+swagger which always characterised him.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Dulcie, both hands buried in her ruddy hair and both
+thin elbows on the desk, sat poring over her school
+books.</p>
+<p>Graduation day was approaching; there was much
+for her to absorb, much to memorise before then.</p>
+<p>As she studied she hummed to herself the air of the
+quaint song which she was to sing at her graduation
+exercises. That did not interfere with her concentration;
+but as she finished one lesson, cast aside the book,
+and opened another to prepare the next lesson, vaguely
+happy memories of her evening party with Barres came
+into her mind to disturb her thoughts, tempting her
+to reverie and the delicious idleness she knew only when
+alone and absorbed in thoughts of him.</p>
+<p>But she resolutely put him out of her mind and
+opened her book.</p>
+<p>The hall clock ticked loudly through the silence;
+slanting sun rays fell through the street grille, across
+the tessellated floor where flies crawled and buzzed.</p>
+<p>The Prophet sat full in a bar of sunlight and gravely
+followed the movements of the flies as though specialising
+on the study of those amazing insects.</p>
+<p>Tenants of Dragon Court passed out or entered at
+intervals, pausing to glance at their letter-boxes or requesting
+their keys.</p>
+<p>Westmore came down the eastern staircase, like an
+avalanche, with a cheery:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Dulcie! Any letters? All right, old dear!
+If you see Mr. Mandel, tell him I&#8217;ll be at the club!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></div>
+<p>Corot Mandel came in presently, and she gave him
+Westmore&#8217;s message.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; he said, not even glancing at the thin
+figure in the shabby dress too small for her. And, after
+peering into his letter-box, he went away with the indolent
+swing of a large and powerful plantigrade, gazing
+fixedly ahead of him out of heavy, oriental eyes,
+and twisting up his jet black, waxed moustache.</p>
+<p>A tall, handsome girl called and enquired for Mr.
+Trenor. Dulcie returned her amiable smile, unhooked
+the receiver, and telephoned up. But nobody answered
+from Esmé Trenor&#8217;s apartment, and the girl, whose
+name was Damaris Souval, and whose profession varied
+between the stage and desultory sitting for artists,
+smiled once more on Dulcie and sauntered out in her
+very charming summer gown.</p>
+<p>The shabby child looked after her through the sunny
+hallway, the smile still curving her lips&mdash;a sensitive,
+winning smile, untainted by envy. Then she resumed
+her book, serenely clearing her youthful mind of vanity
+and desire for earthly things.</p>
+<p>Half an hour later Esmé Trenor sauntered in. His
+was a <ins title='Was sensative'>sensitive</ins> nature and fastidious, too. Dinginess,
+obscurity&mdash;everything that was shabby, tarnished,
+humble in life, he consistently ignored. He had ignored
+Dulcie Soane for three years: he ignored her now.</p>
+<p>He glanced indifferently into his letter-box as he
+passed the desk. Dulcie said, with the effort it always
+required for her to speak to him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Souval called, but left no message.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Trenor&#8217;s supercilious glance rested on her for the
+fraction of a second, then, with a bored nod, he continued
+on his way and up the stairs. And Dulcie returned
+to her book.</p>
+<p>The desk telephone rang: a Mrs. Helmund desired
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span>
+to speak to Mr. Trenor. Dulcie switched her on, rested
+her chin on her hand, and continued her reading.</p>
+<p>Some time afterward the telephone rang again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dragon Court,&#8221; said Dulcie, mechanically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish to speak to Mr. Barres, please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Barres has not come in from luncheon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure?&#8221; <ins title='Was same'>said</ins> the pretty, feminine voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite sure,&#8221; replied Dulcie. &#8220;Wait a minute&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She called Barres&#8217;s apartment; Aristocrates answered
+and confirmed his master&#8217;s absence with courtly
+effusion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, he is not in,&#8221; repeated Dulcie. &#8220;Who shall I
+say called him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say that Miss Dunois called him up. If he comes
+in, say that Miss Thessalie Dunois will come at five to
+take tea with him. Thank you. Good-bye.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Startled to hear the very name against which her
+father had warned her, Dulcie found it difficult to reconcile
+the sweet voice that came to her over the wire
+with the voice of any such person her father had described.</p>
+<p>Still a trifle startled, she laid aside the receiver with
+a disturbed glance toward the wrought-iron door at the
+further end of the hall.</p>
+<p>She had no desire at all to call up her father at
+Grogan&#8217;s and inform him of what had occurred. The
+mere thought of surreptitious listening in, of eavesdropping,
+of informing, reddened her face. Also, she
+had long since lost confidence in the somewhat battered
+but jaunty man who had always neglected her, although
+never otherwise unkind, even when intoxicated.</p>
+<p>No, she would neither listen in nor inform on anybody
+at the behest of a father for whom, alas, she had
+no respect, merely those shreds of conventional feeling
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span>
+which might once have been filial affection, but had
+become merely an habitual solicitude.</p>
+<p>No, her character, her nature refused such obedience.
+If there was trouble between the owner of the
+unusually sweet voice and Mr. Barres, it was their affair,
+not hers, not her father&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>This settled in her mind, she opened another book
+and turned the pages slowly until she came to the lesson
+to be learned.</p>
+<p>It was hard to concentrate; her thoughts were straying,
+now, to Barres.</p>
+<p>And, as she leaned there, musing above her dingy
+school book, through the grilled door at the further
+end of the hall stepped a young girl in a light summer
+gown&mdash;a beautiful girl, lithe, graceful, exquisitely
+groomed&mdash;who came swiftly up to the desk, a trifle pale
+and breathless:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Barres? He lives here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please announce Miss Dunois.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie flushed deeply under the shock:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr.&mdash;Mr. Barres is still out&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. Was it you I talked to over the telephone?&#8221;
+asked Thessalie Dunois.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Barres has not <ins title='Was reutrned'>returned</ins>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie bit her lip, hesitated, turned to go. And
+at the same instant Dulcie saw the one-eyed man at the
+street door, peering through the iron grille.</p>
+<p>Thessalie saw him, too, stiffened to marble, stood
+staring straight at him.</p>
+<p>He turned and went away up the street. But Dulcie,
+to whom the incident signified nothing in particular except
+the impudence of a one-eyed man, was not prepared
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span>
+for the face which Thessalie Dunois turned toward her.
+Not a vestige of colour remained in it, and her dark
+eyes seemed feverish and too large.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You need not give Mr. Barres any message from
+me,&#8221; she said in an altered voice, which sounded strained
+and unsteady. &#8220;Please do not even say that I came
+or mention my name.... May I ask it of you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie, very silent in her surprise, made no reply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please may I ask it of you?&#8221; whispered Thessalie.
+&#8220;Do you mind not telling anybody that I was here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If&mdash;you wish it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do. May I trust you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you&mdash;&#8221; A bank bill was in her gloved fingers;
+intuition warned her; she took another swift look
+at Dulcie. The child&#8217;s face was flaming scarlet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me,&#8221; whispered Thessalie.... &#8220;And
+thank you, dear&mdash;&#8221; She bent over quickly, took Dulcie&#8217;s
+hand, pressed it, looking her in the eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all right,&#8221; she whispered. &#8220;I am not asking
+you to do anything you shouldn&#8217;t. Mr. Barres will
+understand it all when I write to him.... Did you
+see that man at the street door, looking through the
+grating?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know who he is?&#8221; whispered Thessalie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you never before seen him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He was here at two o&#8217;clock talking to my
+father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My father&#8217;s name is Lawrence Soane. He is superintendent
+of Dragon Court.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is your name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie Soane.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></div>
+<p>Thessalie still held her hand tightly. Then with a
+quick but forced smile, she pressed it, thanking the girl
+for her consideration, turned and walked swiftly
+through the hall out into the street.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Dulcie, dreaming over her closed books in the fading
+light, vaguely uneasy lest her silence might embrace
+the faintest shadow of disloyalty to Barres,
+looked up quickly at the sound of his familiar footsteps
+on the pavement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, little comrade,&#8221; he called to her on his way
+to the stairs. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t we have a jolly party the other
+evening? I&#8217;m going out to another party this evening,
+but I bet it won&#8217;t be as jolly as ours!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl smiled happily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any letters, Sweetness?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;None, Mr. Barres.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All the better. I have too many letters, too many
+visitors. It leaves me no time to have another party
+with you. But we shall have another, Dulcie&mdash;never
+fear. That is,&#8221; he added, pretending to doubt her
+receptiveness of his invitation, &#8220;if you would care to
+have another with me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She merely looked at him, smiling deliciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be a good child and we&#8217;ll have another!&#8221; he called
+back to her, running on up the western staircase.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Around seven o&#8217;clock her father came in, steady
+enough of foot but shiny-red in the face and maudlin
+drunk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That woman was here,&#8221; he whined, &#8220;an&#8217; ye never
+called me up! I am b-bethrayed be me childer&mdash;wurra
+the day&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please, father! If any one sees you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; phwy not! Am I ashamed o&#8217; the tears I shed?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span>
+No, I am not. No Irishman need take shame along av
+the tears he sheds for Ireland&mdash;God bless her where
+she shtands!&mdash;wid the hob-nails av the crool tyrant
+foreninst her bleeding neck an&#8217;&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father, please&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That woman I warned ye of! She was here! &#8217;Twas
+the wan-eyed lad who seen her&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie rose and took him by his arm. He made no
+resistance; but he wept while she conducted him bedward,
+as the immemorial wrongs of Ireland tore his
+soul.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span>
+<a name='VII_OPPORTUNITY_KNOCKS' id='VII_OPPORTUNITY_KNOCKS'></a>
+<h2>VII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The tremendous tragedy in Europe, now nearing
+the end of the second act, had been slowly shaking
+the drowsy Western World out of its snug
+slumber of complacency. Young America was already
+sitting up in bed, awake, alert, listening. Older America,
+more difficult to convince, rolled solemn and interrogative
+eyes toward Washington, where the wooden
+gods still sat nodding in a row, smiling vacuously at
+destiny out of carved and painted features. Eyes had
+they but they saw not, ears but they heard not; neither
+spake they through their mouths.</p>
+<p>Yet, they that made them were no longer like unto
+them, for many an anxious idolater no longer trusted
+in them. For their old God&#8217;s voice was sounding in
+their ears.</p>
+<p>The voice of a great ex-president, too, had been
+thundering from the wilderness; lesser prophets, endowed,
+however, with intellect and vision, had been
+warning the young West that the second advent of
+Attila was at hand; an officer of the army, inspired
+of God, had preached preparedness from the market
+places and had established for its few disciples an habitation;
+and a great Admiral had died of a broken
+heart because his lips had been officially sealed&mdash;the
+wisest lips that ever told of those who go down to the
+sea in ships.</p>
+<p>Plainer and plainer in American ears sounded the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span>
+mounting surf of that blood-red sea thundering against
+the frontiers of Democracy; clearer and clearer came
+the discordant clamour of the barbaric hordes; louder
+and more menacing the half-crazed blasphemies of
+their chief, who had given the very name of the Scourge
+of God to one among the degenerate litter he had sired.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Garret Barres had been educated like any American
+of modern New York type. Harvard, then five years
+abroad, and a return to his native city revealed him
+as an ambitious, receptive, intelligent young man,
+deeply interested in himself and his own affairs, theoretically
+patriotic, a good citizen by intention, an affectionate
+son and brother, and already a pretty good
+painter of the saner species.</p>
+<p>A modest income of his own enabled him to bide his
+time and decline pot-boilers. A comparatively young
+father and an even more youthful mother, both of
+sporting proclivities, together with a sister of the same
+tastes, were his preferred companions when he had
+time to go home to the family rooftree in northern
+New York. His lines, indeed, were cast in pleasant
+places. Beside still waters in green pastures, he could
+always restore his city-tarnished soul when he desired
+to retire for a while from the battleground of endeavour.</p>
+<p>The city, after all, offered him a world-wide battlefield;
+for Garret Barres was by choice a painter of
+thoroughbred women, of cosmopolitan men&mdash;a younger
+warrior of the brush imbued with the old traditions
+of those great English captains of portraiture, who
+recorded for us the more brilliant human truths of the
+seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.</p>
+<p>From their stately canvases aglow, the eyes of the
+lovely dead look out at us; the eyes of ambition, of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span>
+pride, of fatuous complacency; the haunted eyes of
+sorrow; the clear eyes of faith. Out of the past they
+gaze&mdash;those who once lived&mdash;deathlessly recorded by
+Van Dyck, Lely, Kneller; by Gainsborough, Reynolds,
+Hoppner, Lawrence, Raeburn; or consigned to a dignified
+destiny by Stuart, Sully, Inman, and Vanderlyn.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>When Barres returned to New York after many
+years, he found that the aspect of the city had not
+altered very greatly. The usual dirt, disorder, and
+municipal confusion still reigned; subways were being
+dug, but since the memory of man runneth, the streets
+of the metropolis have been dug up, and its market
+places and byways have been an abomination.</p>
+<p>The only visible excitement, however, was in the war
+columns of the newspapers, and, sometimes, around
+bulletin boards where wrangling groups were no uncommon
+sight, citizens and aliens often coming into verbal
+collision&mdash;sometimes physical&mdash;promptly suppressed
+by bored policemen.</p>
+<p>There was a &#8220;preparedness&#8221; parade; thousands of
+worthy citizens marched in it, nervously aware, now,
+that the Great Republic&#8217;s only mobile military division
+was on the Mexican border, where also certain Guard
+regiments were likely to be directed to reinforce the
+regulars&mdash;pet regiments from the city, among whose
+corps of officers and enlisted men everybody had some
+friend or relative.</p>
+<p>But these regiments had not yet entrained. There
+were few soldiers to be seen on the streets. Khaki
+began to be noticeable in New York only when the
+Plattsburg camps opened. After that there was an interim
+of the usual dull, unaccented civilian monotony,
+mitigated at rare intervals by this dun-coloured ebb
+and flow from Plattsburg.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></div>
+<p>Like the first vague premonitions of a nightmare the
+first ominous symptoms of depression were slowly possessing
+hearts already uneasy under two years&#8217; burden
+of rumours unprintable, horrors incredible to those
+aloof and pursuing the peaceful tenor of their ways.</p>
+<p>A growing restlessness, unbelief, the incapacity to
+understand&mdash;selfishness, rapacity, self-righteousness,
+complacency, cowardice, even stupidity itself were
+being jolted and shocked into something resembling a
+glimmer of comprehension as the hunnish U-boats, made
+ravenous by the taste of blood, steered into western
+shipping lanes like a vast shoal of sharks.</p>
+<p>And always thicker and thicker came the damning
+tales of rape and murder, of cowardly savagery, brutal
+vileness, degenerate bestiality&mdash;clearer, nearer, distinctly
+audible, the sigh of a ravaged and expiring
+civilisation trampled to obliteration by the slavering,
+ferocious swine of the north.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Fires among shipping, fires amid great stores of
+cotton and grain destined for France or England, explosions
+of munitions of war ordered by nations of the
+Entente, the clumsy propaganda or impudent sneers
+of German and pro-German newspapers; reports of
+German meddling in Mexico, in South America, in
+Japan; more sinister news concerning the insolent activities
+of certain embassies&mdash;all these were beginning
+to have their logical effect among a fat and prosperous
+people which simply could not bear to be aroused
+from pleasant dreams of brotherhood to face the raw
+and hellish truth.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>&#8220;For fifty years,&#8221; remarked Barres to his neighbour,
+Esmé Trenor, also a painter of somewhat eccentric
+portraits, &#8220;our national characteristic has been
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span>
+a capacity for absorbing bunk and a fixed determination
+to kid ourselves. There really is a war, Trenor, old
+top, and we&#8217;re going to get into it before very long.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Trenor, a tall, tired, exquisitely groomed young man,
+who once had painted a superficially attractive portrait
+of a popular débutante, and had been overwhelmed
+with fashionable orders ever since, was the adored of
+women. He dropped one attenuated knee over the
+other and lighted an attenuated cigarette.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fancy anybody bothering enough about anything
+to fight over it!&#8221; he said languidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re going to <i>war</i>, Trenor,&#8221; repeated Barres,
+jamming his brushes into a bowl of black soap. &#8220;That&#8217;s
+my positive conviction.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yours is so disturbingly positive a nature,&#8221; remonstrated
+the other. &#8220;Why ever raise a row? Nothing
+positive is of any real importance&mdash;not even opinions.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres, vigorously cleaning his brushes in turpentine
+and black soap, glanced around at Trenor, and in
+his quick smile there glimmered a hint of good-natured
+malice. For Esmé Trenor was notoriously anything
+except positive in his painting, always enveloping a
+lack of technical knowledge with a veil of camouflage.
+Behind this pretty veil hid many defects, perhaps even
+deformities&mdash;protected by vague, indefinite shadows
+and the effrontery of an adroit exploiter of the restless
+sex.</p>
+<p>But Esmé Trenor was both clever and alert. He
+had not even missed that slight and momentary glimmer
+of good-humoured malice in the pleasant glance of
+Barres. But, like his more intelligent prototype,
+Whistler, it was impossible to know whether or not
+discovery ever made any particular difference to him.
+He tucked a lilac-bordered handkerchief a little deeper
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span>
+into his cuff, glanced at his jewelled wrist-watch, shook
+the long ash from his cigarette.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To be positive in anything,&#8221; he drawled, &#8220;is an
+effort; effort entails exertion; exertion is merely a degree
+of violence; violence engenders toxins; toxins dull
+the intellect. Quod erat, dear friend. You see?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, I see,&#8221; nodded Barres, always frankly
+amused at Trenor and his ways.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, if you see&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Trenor waved a long,
+bony, over-manicured hand, expelled a ring or two of
+smoke, meditatively; then, in his characteristically languid
+voice: &#8220;To be positive closes the door to further
+observation and pulls down the window shades.
+Nothing remains except to go to bed. Is there anything
+more uninteresting than to go to bed? Is there
+anything more depressing than to know all about something?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You do converse like an ass sometimes,&#8221; remarked
+Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;sometimes. Not now, Barres. I don&#8217;t desire
+to know all about anybody or anything. Fancy my
+knowing all about art, for example!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, fancy!&#8221; repeated Barres, laughing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or about anything specific&mdash;a woman, for example!&#8221;
+He shrugged wearily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you meet a woman and like her, don&#8217;t you want
+to know all there is to know about her?&#8221; inquired
+Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should say not!&#8221; returned the other with languid
+contempt. &#8220;I don&#8217;t wish to know anything at all about
+her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, we differ about that, old top.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Religiously. A woman can be only an incidental
+amusement in one&#8217;s career. You don&#8217;t go to a musical
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span>
+comedy twice, do you? And any woman will reveal
+herself sufficiently in one evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nice, kindly domestic instincts you have, Trenor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m merely fastidious,&#8221; returned the other, dropping
+his cigarette out of the open window. He rose,
+yawned, took his hat, stick and gloves.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bye,&#8221; he said languidly. &#8220;I&#8217;m painting Elsena
+Helmund this morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres said, with good-humoured envy:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve neither commission nor sitter. If I had, you
+bet I&#8217;d not stand there yawning at my luck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is you who have the luck, not I,&#8221; drawled Trenor.
+&#8220;I give a portion of my spiritual and material self
+with every brush stroke, while you remain at liberty to
+flourish and grow fat in idleness. I perish as I create;
+my life exhausts itself to feed my art. What you
+call my good luck is my martyrdom. You see, dear
+friend, how fortunate you are?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; grinned Barres. &#8220;But will your spiritual
+nature stand such a cruel drain? Aren&#8217;t you afraid
+your morality may totter?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morality,&#8221; mused Esmé, going; &#8220;that is one of
+those early Gothic terms now obsolete, I believe&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He sauntered out with his hat and gloves and stick,
+still murmuring:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morality? Gothic&mdash;very Gothic&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres, still amused, sorted his wet brushes, dried
+them carefully one by one on a handful of cotton waste,
+and laid them in a neat row across the soapstone top
+of his palette-table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hang it!&#8221; he muttered cheerfully. &#8220;I could paint
+like a streak this morning if I had the chance&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He threw himself back in his chair and sat there
+smoking for a while, his narrowing eyes fixed on a great
+window which opened above the court. Soft spring
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span>
+breezes stirred the curtains; sparrows were noisy out
+there; a strip of cobalt sky smiled at him over the opposite
+chimneys; an April cloud floated across it.</p>
+<p>He rose, walked over to the window and glanced
+down into the court. Several more hyacinths were now
+in blossom. The Prophet dozed majestically, curled
+up on an Italian garden seat. Beside him sprawled
+the snow white Houri, stretched out full length in the
+sun, her wonderful blue eyes following the irrational
+gambols of the tortoise-shell cat, Strindberg, who had
+gone loco, as usual, and was tearing up and down trees,
+prancing sideways with flattened ears and crooked tail,
+in terror at things invisible, or digging furiously toward
+China amid the hyacinths.</p>
+<p>Dulcie Soane came out into the court presently
+and expostulated with Strindberg, who suffered herself
+to be removed from the hyacinth bed, only to make
+a hysterical charge on her mistress&#8217;s ankles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop it, you crazy thing!&#8221; insisted Dulcie, administering
+a gentle slap which sent the cat bucketing and
+corvetting across the lawn, where the eccentric course
+of a dead leaf, blown by the April wind, instantly occupied
+its entire intellectual vacuum.</p>
+<p>Barres, leaning on the window-sill, said, without raising
+his voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Dulcie! How are you, after our party?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The child looked up, smiled shyly her response
+through the pale glory of the April sunshine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing to-day?&#8221; he inquired, with
+casual but friendly interest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t there any school?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s Saturday.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so. Well, if you&#8217;re doing nothing you&#8217;re
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span>
+just as busy as I am,&#8221; he remarked, smiling down at
+her where she stood below his window.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you paint pictures?&#8221; ventured the girl
+diffidently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I haven&#8217;t any orders. Isn&#8217;t that sad?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.... But you could paint a picture just to
+please yourself, couldn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t anybody to paint from,&#8221; he explained with
+amiable indifference, lazily watching the effect of alternate
+shadow and sunlight on her upturned face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Couldn&#8217;t you find&mdash;somebody?&#8221; Her heart had
+suddenly begun to beat very fast.</p>
+<p>Barres laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you like to have your portrait painted?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She could scarcely find voice to reply:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you&mdash;let me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The slim young figure down there in the April sunshine
+had now arrested his professional attention. With
+detached interest he inspected her for a few moments;
+then:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d make an interesting study, Dulcie. What do
+you say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do&mdash;do you mean that you <i>want</i> me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;yes! Would you like to pose for me? It&#8217;s
+pin-money, anyway. Would you like to try it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you quite sure? It&#8217;s hard work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite&mdash;sure&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; she stammered. The little flushed
+face was lifted very earnestly to his now, almost beseechingly.
+&#8220;I am quite sure,&#8221; she repeated breathlessly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you&#8217;d really like to pose for me?&#8221; he insisted in
+smiling surprise at the girl&#8217;s visible excitement. Then
+he added abruptly: &#8220;I&#8217;ve half a mind to give you a
+job as my private model!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></div>
+<p>Through the rosy confusion of her face her grey
+eyes were fixed on him with a wistful intensity, almost
+painful. For into her empty heart and starved mind
+had suddenly flashed a dazzling revelation. Opportunity
+was knocking at her door. Her chance had
+come! Perhaps it had been inherited from her mother&mdash;God
+knows!&mdash;this deep, deep hunger for things beautiful&mdash;this
+passionate longing for light and knowledge.</p>
+<p>Mere contact with such a man as Barres had already
+made endurable a solitary servitude which had
+been subtly destroying her child&#8217;s spirit, and slowly
+dulling the hunger in her famished mind. And now
+to aid him&mdash;to feel that he was using her&mdash;was to arise
+from her rags of ignorance and emerge upright into
+the light which filled that wonder-house wherein he
+dwelt, and on the dark threshold of which her lonely
+little soul had crouched so long in silence.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>She looked up almost blindly at the man who, in
+careless friendliness, had already opened his door to
+her, had permitted her to read his wonder-books, had
+allowed her to sit unreproved and silent from sheer
+happiness, and gaze unsatiated upon the wondrous
+things within the magic mansion where he dwelt.</p>
+<p>And now to serve this man; to aid him, to creep
+into the light in which he stood and strive to learn
+and see!&mdash;the thought already had produced a delicate
+intoxication in the child, and she gazed up at
+Barres from the sunny garden with her naked soul in
+her eyes. Which confused, perplexed, and embarrassed
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on up,&#8221; he said briefly. &#8220;I&#8217;ll tell your father
+over the &#8217;phone.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>She entered without a sound, closed the door which
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span>
+he had left open for her, advanced across the thick-meshed
+rug. She still wore her blue gingham apron;
+her bobbed hair, full of ruddy lights, intensified the
+whiteness of her throat. In her arms she cradled the
+Prophet, who stared solemnly at Barres out of depthless
+green eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Upon my word,&#8221; thought Barres to himself, &#8220;I believe
+I have found a model and an uncommon one!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie, watching his expression, smiled slightly and
+stroked the Prophet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll paint you that way! Don&#8217;t stir,&#8221; said the
+young fellow pleasantly. &#8220;Just stand where you are,
+Dulcie. You&#8217;re quite all right as you are&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He
+lifted a half-length canvas, placed it on his heavy easel
+and clamped it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I feel exactly like painting,&#8221; he continued, busy
+with his brushes and colours. &#8220;I&#8217;m full of it to-day.
+It&#8217;s in me. It&#8217;s got to come out.... And you certainly
+are an interesting subject&mdash;with your big grey
+eyes and bobbed red hair&mdash;oh, quite interesting constructively,
+too&mdash;as well as from the colour point.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He finished setting his palette, gathered up a handful
+of brushes:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t bother to draw you except with a
+brush&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked across at her, remained looking, the pleasantly
+detached expression of his features gradually
+changing to curiosity, to the severity of increasing interest,
+to concentrated and silent absorption.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie,&#8221; he presently concluded, &#8220;you are so unusually
+interesting and paintable that you make me
+think very seriously.... And I&#8217;m hanged if I&#8217;m going
+to waste you by slapping a technically adequate
+sketch of you onto this nice new canvas ... which
+might give me pleasure while I&#8217;m doing it ... and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span>
+might even tickle my vanity for a week ... and then
+be laid away to gather dust ... and be covered over
+next year and used for another sketch.... No....
+<i>No</i>!... You&#8217;re worth more than that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He began to pace the place to and fro, thinking very
+hard, glancing around at her from moment to moment,
+where she stood, obediently immovable on the
+blue meshed rug, clasping the Prophet to her breast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you want to become my private model?&#8221; he demanded
+abruptly. &#8220;I mean seriously. Do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean a real model, from whom I can ask anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, please,&#8221; pleaded the girl, trembling a little.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you understand what it means?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes you&#8217;ll be required to wear few clothes.
+Sometimes none. Did you know that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Mr. Westmore asked me once.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t care to?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mind doing it for me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll do anything you ask me,&#8221; she said, trying to
+smile and shivering with excitement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. It&#8217;s a bargain. You&#8217;re my model, Dulcie.
+When do you graduate from school?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In June.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two months! Well&mdash;all right. Until then it will
+be a half day through the week, and all day Saturdays
+and Sundays, if I require you. You&#8217;ll have a weekly
+salary&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He smiled and mentioned the figure, and
+the girl blushed vividly. She had, it appeared, expected
+nothing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Dulcie!&#8221; he exclaimed, immensely amused.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span>
+&#8220;You didn&#8217;t intend to come here and give me all your
+time for nothing, did you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But why on earth should you do such a thing for
+me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She found no words to explain why.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense,&#8221; he continued; &#8220;you&#8217;re a business woman
+now. Your father will have to find somebody to cook
+for him and take the desk when he&#8217;s out at Grogan&#8217;s.
+Don&#8217;t worry; I&#8217;ll fix it with him.... By the way,
+Dulcie, supposing you sit down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She found a chair and took the Prophet onto her
+lap.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, this will be very convenient for me,&#8221; he went
+on, inspecting her with increasing satisfaction. &#8220;If
+I ever have any orders&mdash;any sitters&mdash;you can have a
+vacation, of course. Otherwise, I&#8217;ll always have an
+interesting model at hand&mdash;I&#8217;ve got chests full of wonderful
+costumes&mdash;genuine ones&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He fell silent,
+his eyes studying her. Already he was planning half
+a dozen pictures, for he was just beginning to perceive
+how adaptable the girl might be. And there was about
+her that indefinable something which, when a painter
+discovers it, interests him and arouses his intense artistic
+curiosity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know,&#8221; he said musingly, &#8220;you are something
+more than pretty, Dulcie.... I could put you in
+eighteenth century clothes and you&#8217;d look logical.
+Yes, and in seventeenth century clothes, too.... I
+could do some amusing things with you in oriental garments....
+A young Herodiade ... Calypso ...
+Theodora.... She was a child, too, you know.
+There&#8217;s a portrait with bobbed hair&mdash;a young girl by
+Van Dyck.... You know you are quite stimulating
+to me, Dulcie. You excite a painter&#8217;s imagination.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span>
+It&#8217;s rather odd,&#8221; he added naïvely, &#8220;that I never discovered
+you before; and I&#8217;ve known you over two
+years.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He had seated himself on the sofa while discoursing.
+Now he got up, touched a bell twice. The Finnish
+maid, Selinda, with her high cheek-bones, frosty blue
+eyes and colourless hair, appeared in cap and apron.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Selinda,&#8221; he said, &#8220;take Miss Dulcie into my room.
+In a long, leather Turkish box on the third shelf of
+my clothes closet is a silk and gold costume and a lot
+of jade jewelry. Please put her into it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Dulcie Soane went away with her cat in her arms,
+beside the neat and frosty-eyed Selinda; and Barres
+opened a portfolio of engravings, where were gathered
+the lovely aristocrats of Van Dyck and Rubens and
+Gainsborough and his contemporaries&mdash;a charmingly
+mixed company, separated by centuries and frontiers,
+yet all characterised by a common <i>something</i>&mdash;some
+inexplicable similarity which Barres recognised without
+defining.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s rather amusing,&#8221; he murmured, &#8220;but that kid,
+Dulcie, seems to remind me of these people&mdash;somehow
+or other.... One scarcely looks for qualities in the
+child of an Irish janitor.... I wonder who her mother
+was....&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>When he looked up again Dulcie was standing there
+on the thick rug. On her naked feet were jade bracelets,
+jade-set rings on her little toes; a cascade of jade
+and gold falling over her breasts to the straight, narrow
+breadth of peacock hue which fell to her ankles.
+And on her childish head, clasping the ruddy bobbed
+hair, glittered the jade-incrusted diadem of a fairy
+princess of Cathay.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<div class='figtag'>
+<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a>
+</div>
+<img src='images/illus-100.jpg' alt='' title='' width='370' height='500' />
+<br />
+<p class='caption'>
+&#8220;YOU LITTLE MIRACLE!&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<p>The Prophet, gathered close to her breast, stared
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span>
+back at Barres with eyes that dimmed the splendid
+jade about him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That settles it,&#8221; he said, the tint of excitement rising
+in his cheeks. &#8220;I <i>have</i> discovered a model and a
+wonder! And right here is where I paint my winter
+Academy&mdash;right here and right now!... And I call
+it &#8216;The Prophets.&#8217; Climb up on that model stand and
+squat there cross-legged, and stare at me&mdash;straight at
+me&mdash;the way your cat stares!... There you are.
+That&#8217;s right! Don&#8217;t move. Stay put or I&#8217;ll come
+over and bow-string you!&mdash;you little miracle!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do&mdash;you mean me?&#8221; faltered Dulcie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet, Sweetness! Do you know how beautiful
+you are? Well, never mind&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He had begun already
+to draw with a wet brush, and now he relapsed
+into absorbed silence.</p>
+<p>The Prophet watched him steadily. The studio became
+intensely still.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span>
+<a name='VIII_DULCIE_ANSWERS' id='VIII_DULCIE_ANSWERS'></a>
+<h2>VIII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />DULCIE ANSWERS</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The studio door bell rang while Barres was at
+breakfast one morning late in June. Aristocrates
+leisurely answered the door, but shut it
+again immediately and walked out into the kitchenette
+without any explanation.</p>
+<p>Selinda removed the breakfast cover and fetched the
+newspaper. Later, Aristocrates, having washed his
+master&#8217;s brushes, brought them into the studio mincingly,
+upon a silver service-salver.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No letters?&#8221; inquired Barres, glancing up over the
+morning paper and laying aside his cigarette.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No letters, suh. No co&#8217;espondence in any shape,
+fo&#8217;m or manner, suh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anybody to see me?&#8221; inquired Barres, always
+amused at Aristocrates&#8217; flights of verbiage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody, suh, excusin&#8217; a persistless &#8217;viduality inquihin&#8217;
+fo&#8217; you, suh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What persistless individuality was that?&#8221; asked
+Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A ve&#8217;y or-nary human objec&#8217;, suh, pahshially afflicted
+with one bad eye.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That one-eyed man? He&#8217;s been here several times,
+hasn&#8217;t he? Why does he come?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fo&#8217; commercial puhposes, suh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, a pedlar?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He mentions a desiah, suh, to dispose, commercially,
+of vahious impo&#8217;ted materials requiahed by ahtists.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t you show him the sign in the hall, &#8216;No pedlars
+allowed&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yaas, suh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did he say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I would not demean myse&#8217;f to repeat what this human
+objec&#8217; said, suh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what did you do then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mistuh Barres, suh, I totally igno&#8217;hed that man,&#8221;
+replied Aristocrates languidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite right. But you tell Soane to enforce the
+rule against pedlars. Every day there are two or
+three of them ringing at the studio, trying to sell colours,
+laces, or fake oriental rugs. It annoys me. Selinda
+can&#8217;t hear the bell and I have to leave my work
+and open the door. Tell that persistless one-eyed man
+to keep away. Tell Soane to bounce him next time he
+enters Dragon Court. Do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yaas, suh. But Soane, suh, he&#8217;s a might friendly
+Irish. He&#8217;s spo&#8217;tin&#8217; &#8217;round Grogan&#8217;s nights, &#8217;longa
+this here one-eyed &#8217;viduality. Yaas, suh. I done seen
+&#8217;em co-gatherin&#8217; on vahious occasionalities.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oho!&#8221; commented Barres. &#8220;It&#8217;s graft, is it? This
+one-eyed pedlar meets Soane at Grogan&#8217;s and bribes
+him with a few drinks to let him peddle colours in
+Dragon Court! That&#8217;s the Irish of it, Aristocrates.
+I began to suspect something like that. All right.
+I&#8217;ll speak to Soane myself.... Leave the studio door
+open; it&#8217;s warm in here.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>The month of May was now turning somewhat sultry
+as it melted into June. Every pivot-pane in the
+big studio window had been swung wide open. The
+sun had already clothed every courtyard tree with
+dense and tender foliage; hyacinth and tulip were gone
+and Soane&#8217;s subscription geraniums blazed in their
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span>
+place like beds of coals heaped up on the grass plot of
+Dragon Court.</p>
+<p>But blue sky, sunshine of approaching summer, gentle
+winds and freshening rains brought only restlessness
+to New Yorkers that month of May.</p>
+<p>Like the first two years of the war, the present year
+seemed strange, unreal; its vernal breezes brought no
+balm, its blue skies no content. The early summer
+sunlight seemed almost uncanny in a world where, beyond
+the sea, millions of men at arms swayed ceaselessly
+under sun and moon alike, interlocked in one gigantic
+death grip!&mdash;a horrible and blood-drenched human
+chain of butchery stretching half around the
+earth.</p>
+<p>Into every Western human eye had come strange and
+subtle shadows which did not depart with moments of
+forgetful mirth, intervals of self-absorption, hours
+filled with familiar interests&mdash;the passions, hopes, perplexities
+of those years which were now no more.</p>
+<p>Those years of yesterdays! A vast and depthless
+cleft already divided them from to-day. They seemed
+as remote as dusty centuries&mdash;those days of an ordered
+and tranquil world&mdash;those days of little obvious
+faiths unshattered&mdash;even those days of little wars, of
+petty local strifes, of an almost universal calm and
+peace and trust in brotherhood and in the obligations
+of civilisation.</p>
+<p>Familiar yesterday had vanished, its creeds forgotten.
+It was already decades away, and fading like a
+legend in the ever-increasing glare of the red and present
+moment.</p>
+<p>And the month of May seemed strange, and its soft
+skies and sun seemed out of place in a world full of
+dying&mdash;a world heavy with death&mdash;a western world
+aloof from the raging hell beyond the seas, yet already
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
+tense under the distant threat of three continents in
+flames&mdash;and all aquiver before the deathly menace of
+that horde of blood-crazed demons still at large, still
+unsubdued, still ranging the ruins of the planet which
+they had so insanely set on fire.</p>
+<p>Entire nations were still burning beyond the ocean;
+other nations had sunk into cinders. Over the Eastern
+seas the furnace breath began to be felt along the
+out-thrust coast lines of the Western World. Inland,
+not yet; but every seaward city became now conscious
+of that first faint warning wave of heat from hell.
+Millions of ears strained to catch the first hushed whisper
+of the tumult. Silent in its suspense the Great
+Republic listened. Only the priesthood of the deaf
+and wooden gods continued voluble. But Israel had
+already begun to lift up its million eyes; and its ancient
+faith began to glow again; and its trust was becoming
+once more a living thing&mdash;the half-forgotten
+trust of Israel in that half-forgotten Lord, who, in
+the beginning, had been their helper and their shield.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Through the open studio door came Dulcie Soane.
+The Prophet followed at her slender heels, gently waving
+an urbane tail.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>After his first smiling greeting&mdash;he always rose,
+advanced, and took her hand with that pleasant appearance
+of formality so adored by femininity, youthful or
+mature&mdash;he resumed his seat and continued to write
+his letters.</p>
+<p>These finished, he stamped them, rang for Aristocrates,
+picked up his palette and brushes, and pulled
+out the easel upon which was the canvas for the morning.</p>
+<p>Dulcie, still in the hands of Selinda, had not yet
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span>
+emerged. The Prophet sat upright on the carved
+table, motionless as a cat of ebony with green-jewelled
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, old sport,&#8221; said Barres, stepping across the
+rug to caress the cat, &#8220;you and your pretty mistress
+begin to look very interesting on my canvas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Prophet received the blandishments with dignified
+gratitude. A discreet and feathery purring filled
+the room as Barres stroked the jet black, silky fur.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine cat, you are,&#8221; commented the young man,
+turning as Dulcie entered.</p>
+<p>She laid one hand on his extended arm and sprang
+lightly to the model stand. And the next moment she
+was seated&mdash;a slim, gemmed thing glimmering with imperial
+jade from top to toe.</p>
+<p>Barres laid the Prophet in her arms, stepped back
+while Dulcie arranged the docile cat, then retreated to
+his canvas.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Sweetness?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; replied the child happily. And the
+morning séance was on.</p>
+<p>Barres was usually inclined to ramble along conversationally
+in his pleasant, detached way while at work,
+particularly if work went well.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where were we yesterday, Dulcie? Oh, yes; we
+were talking about the Victorian era and its art; and
+we decided that it was not the barren desert that the
+ultra-moderns would have us believe. That&#8217;s what we
+decided, wasn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>You</i> decided,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So did you, Dulcie. It was a unanimous decision.
+Because we both concluded that some among the Victorians
+were full of that sweet, clean sanity which alone
+endures. You recollect how our decision started?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. It was about my new pleasure in Tennyson,
+Browning, Morris, Arnold, and Swinburne.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. Victorian poets, if sometimes a trifle
+stilted and self-conscious, wrote nobly; makers of Victorian
+prose displayed qualities of breadth, imagination
+and vision and a technical cultivation unsurpassed.
+The musical compositions of that epoch were melodious
+and sometimes truly inspired; never brutal, never
+vulgar, never degenerate. And the Victorian sculptors
+and painters&mdash;at first perhaps austerely pedantic&mdash;became,
+as they should be, recorders of the times and
+customs of thought, bringing the end of the reign of
+a great Queen to an admirable renaissance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s grey eyes never left his. And if she did
+not quite understand every word, already the dawning
+familiarity with his vocabulary and a general comprehension
+of his modes of self-expansion permitted her
+to follow him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A great Queen, a great reign, a great people,&#8221; he
+rambled on, painting away all the while. &#8220;And if in
+that era architecture declined toward its lowest level
+of stupidity, and if taste in furniture and in the plastic,
+decorative, and textile arts was steadily sinking
+toward its lowest ebb, and if Mrs. Grundy trudged the
+Empire, paramount, dull and smugly ferocious, while
+all snobbery saluted her and the humble grovelled before
+her dusty brogans, yet, Dulcie, it was a great era.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was great because its faith had not been radically
+impaired; it was sane because Germany had not
+yet inoculated the human race with its porcine political
+vulgarities, its bestial degeneracy in art.... And if,
+perhaps, the sentimental in British art and literature
+predominated, thank God it had not yet been tainted
+with the stark ugliness, the swinish nakedness, the ferocious
+leer of things Teutonic!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></div>
+<p>He continued to paint in silence for a while. Presently
+the Prophet yawned on Dulcie&#8217;s knees, displaying
+a pink cavern.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better rest,&#8221; he said, nodding smilingly at Dulcie.
+She released the cat, who stretched, arched his back,
+yawned again gravely, and stalked away over the velvety
+Eastern carpet.</p>
+<p>Dulcie got up lithely and followed him on little jade-encrusted,
+naked feet.</p>
+<p>A box of bon-bons lay on the sofa; she picked up
+Rossetti&#8217;s poems, turned the leaves with jewel-laden
+fingers, while with the other hand she groped for a
+bon-bon, her grey eyes riveted on the pages before her.</p>
+<p>During these intervals between poses it was the
+young man&#8217;s custom to make chalk sketches of the girl,
+recording swiftly any unstudied attitude, any unconscious
+phase of youthful grace that interested him.</p>
+<p>Dulcie, in the beginning, diffidently aware of this,
+had now become entirely accustomed to it, and no
+longer felt any responsibility to remain motionless
+while he was busy with red chalk or charcoal.</p>
+<p>When she had rested sufficiently, she laid aside her
+book, hunted up the Prophet, who lazily endured the
+gentle tyranny, and resumed her place on the model
+stand.</p>
+<p>And so they worked away all the morning, until
+luncheon was served in the studio by Aristocrates; and
+Barres in his blouse, and Dulcie in her peacock silk,
+her jade, and naked feet, gravely or lightly as their
+moods dictated, discussed an omelette and a pot of
+tea or chocolate, and the ways and manners and customs
+of a world which Dulcie now was discovering as a
+brand new and most enchanting planet.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span>
+<a name='IX_HER_DAY' id='IX_HER_DAY'></a>
+<h2>IX
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />HER DAY</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>June was ending in a very warm week. Work in
+the studio lagged, partly because Dulcie, preparing
+for graduation, could give Barres little
+time; partly because, during June, that young man
+had been away spending the week-ends with his parents
+and his sister at Foreland Farms, their home.</p>
+<p>From one of these visits he returned to the city just
+in time to read a frantic little note from Dulcie Soane:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Dear Mr. Barres</span>, please, <i>please</i> come to my graduation.
+I do want <i>somebody</i> there who knows me. And my father
+is not well. Is it too much to ask of you? I hadn&#8217;t the
+courage to speak to you about it when you were here, but I
+have ventured to write because it will be so lonely for me
+to graduate without having anybody there I know.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Dulcie Soane.</span>&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>It was still early in the morning; he had taken a
+night train to town.</p>
+<p>So when he had been freshened by a bath and change
+of linen, he took his hat and went down stairs.</p>
+<p>A heavy, pasty-visaged young woman sat at the
+desk in the entrance hall.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is Soane?&#8221; he inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s sick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Where</i> is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In bed,&#8221; she replied indifferently. The woman&#8217;s
+manner just verged on impertinence. He hesitated,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+then walked across to the superintendent&#8217;s apartments
+and entered without knocking.</p>
+<p>Soane, in his own room, lay sleeping off the consequences
+of an evening at Grogan&#8217;s. One glance was
+sufficient for Barres, and he walked out.</p>
+<p>On Madison Avenue he found a florist, selected a bewildering
+bouquet, and despatched it with a hasty note,
+by messenger, to Dulcie at her school. In the note
+he wrote:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall be there. Cheer up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He also sent more flowers to his studio, with pencilled
+orders to Aristocrates.</p>
+<p>In a toy-shop he found an appropriate decoration
+for the centre of the lunch table.</p>
+<p>Later, in a jeweller&#8217;s, he discovered a plain gold
+locket, shaped like a heart and inset with one little diamond.
+A slender chain by which to suspend it was
+easily chosen; and an extra payment admitted him to
+the emergency department where he looked on while
+an expert engraved upon the locket: &#8220;Dulcie Soane
+from Garret Barres,&#8221; and the date.</p>
+<p>After that he went into the nearest telephone booth
+and called up several people, inviting them to dine
+with him that evening.</p>
+<p>It was nearly ten o&#8217;clock now. He took his little
+gift, stopped a taxi, and arrived at the big brick high-school
+just in time to enter with the last straggling
+parents and family friends.</p>
+<p>The hall was big and austerely bare, except for the
+ribbons and flags and palms which decorated it. It
+was hot, too, though all the great blank windows had
+been swung open wide.</p>
+<p>The usual exercises had already begun; there were
+speeches from Authority; prayers by Divinity; choral
+effects by graduating pulchritude.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span></div>
+<p>The class, attired in white, appeared to average
+much older than Dulcie. He could see her now, in her
+reconstructed communion dress, holding the big bouquet
+which he had sent her, one madonna lily of which
+she had detached and pinned over her breast.</p>
+<p>Her features were composed and delicately flushed;
+her bobbed hair was tucked up, revealing the snowy
+neck.</p>
+<p>One girl after another advanced and read or spoke,
+performing the particular parlour trick assigned her
+in the customary and perfectly unremarkable manner
+characteristic of such affairs.</p>
+<p>Rapturous parental demonstrations greeted each effort;
+piano, violin and harp filled in nobly. A slight
+haze of dust, incident to pedalistic applause, invaded
+the place; there was an odour of flowers in the heated
+atmosphere.</p>
+<p>Glancing at a programme which he had found on his
+seat, Barres read: &#8220;Song: Dulcie Soane.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Looking up at her where she sat on the stage, among
+her comrades in white, he noticed that her eyes were
+busy searching the audience&mdash;possibly for him, he
+thought, experiencing an oddly pleasant sensation at
+the possibility.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>The time at length arrived for Dulcie to do her parlour
+trick; she rose and came forward, clasping the
+big, fragrant bouquet, prettily flushed but self-possessed.
+The harp began a little minor prelude&mdash;something
+Irish and not very modern. Then Dulcie&#8217;s pure,
+untrained voice stole winningly through the picked
+harp-strings&#8217; hesitation:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>&#8220;Heart of a colleen,</p>
+<p>Where do you roam?</p>
+<p class='indent4'>Heart of a colleen,</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></p>
+<p>Far from your home?</p>
+<p>Laden with love you stole from her breast!</p>
+<p>Wandering dove, return to your nest!</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>Sodgers are sailin&#8217;</p>
+<p>Away to the wars;</p>
+<p class='indent4'>Ladies are wailin&#8217;</p>
+<p>Their woe to the stars;</p>
+<p>Why is the heart of you straying so soon&mdash;</p>
+<p>Heart that was part of you, Eileen Aroon?</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>Lost to a sodger,</p>
+<p>Gone is my heart!</p>
+<p class='indent4'>Lost to a sodger,</p>
+<p>Now we must part&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>I and my heart&mdash;for it journeys afar</p>
+<p>Along with the sodgers who sail to the war!</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>Tears that near blind me</p>
+<p>My pride shall dry,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p class='indent4'>Wisha! don&#8217;t mind me!</p>
+<p>Lave a lass cry!</p>
+<p>Only a sodger can whistle the tune</p>
+<p>That coaxes the heart out of Eileen Aroon!&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>And Dulcie&#8217;s song ended.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Almost instantly the audience had divined in the
+words she sang a significance which concerned them&mdash;a
+warning&mdash;perhaps a prophecy. The 69th Regiment
+of New York infantry was Irish, and nearly every seat
+in the hall held a relative of some young fellow serving
+in its ranks.</p>
+<p>The applause was impulsive, stormy, persistent; the
+audience was demanding the young girl&#8217;s recall; the
+noise they made became overwhelming, checking the
+mediating music and baffling the next embarrassed graduate,
+scheduled to read an essay, and who stood there
+mute, her manuscript in her hand.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></div>
+<p>Finally the principal of the school arose, went over
+to Dulcie, and exchanged a few words with her. Then
+he came forward, hand lifted in appeal for silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The music and words of the little song you have
+just heard,&#8221; he said, &#8220;were written, I have just learned,
+by the mother of the girl who sang them. They were
+written in Ireland a number of years ago, when Irish
+regiments were sent away for over-seas service. Neither
+words nor song have ever been published. Miss Soane
+found them among her mother&#8217;s effects.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought the story of the little song might interest
+you. For, somehow, I feel&mdash;as I think you all feel&mdash;that
+perhaps the day may come&mdash;may be near&mdash;when
+the hearts of our women, too, shall be given to
+their soldiers&mdash;sons, brothers, fathers&mdash;who are &#8216;sailin&#8217;
+away to the wars.&#8217; But if that time comes&mdash;which
+God avert!&mdash;then I know that every man here will do
+his duty.... And every woman.... And I know
+that:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8216;Tears that near blind you,</p>
+<p>Your pride shall dry!&mdash;&mdash;&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>He paused a moment:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Soane has prepared no song to sing as an
+encore. In her behalf, and in my own, I thank you for
+your appreciation. Be kind enough to permit the exercises
+to proceed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And the graduating exercises continued.</p>
+<p>Barres waited for Dulcie. She came out among the
+first of those departing, walking all alone in her reconstructed
+white dress, and carrying his bouquet.
+When she caught sight of him, her face became radiant
+and she made her way toward him through the
+crowd, seeking his outstretched hand with hers, clinging
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span>
+to it in a passion of gratitude and emotion that
+made her voice tremulous:</p>
+<p>&#8220;My bouquet&mdash;it is so wonderful! I love every
+flower in it! Thank you with all my heart. You are
+so kind to have come&mdash;so kind to me&mdash;so k-kind&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is I who should be grateful, Dulcie, for your
+charming little song,&#8221; he insisted. &#8220;It was fascinating
+and exquisitely done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you really like it?&#8221; she asked shyly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed I did! And I quite fell in love with your
+voice, too&mdash;with that trick you seem to possess of conveying
+a hint of tears through some little grace-note
+now and then.... And there <i>were</i> tears hidden in
+the words; and in the melody, too.... And to think
+that your mother wrote it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a short interval of silence he released her hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have a taxi for you,&#8221; he said gaily. &#8220;We&#8217;ll drive
+home in state.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl flushed again with surprise and gratitude:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are&mdash;are <i>you</i> coming, too?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly I&#8217;m going to take you home. Don&#8217;t you
+belong to me?&#8221; he demanded laughingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she said. But her forced little smile made
+the low-voiced answer almost solemn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then!&#8221; he said cheerfully. &#8220;Come along.
+What&#8217;s mine I look after. We&#8217;ll have lunch together
+in the studio, if you are too proud to pose for a poor
+artist this afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this her sensitive face cleared and she laughed
+happily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The pride of a high-school graduate!&#8221; he commented,
+as he seated himself beside her in the taxicab.
+&#8220;Can anything equal it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Her pride in your&mdash;friendship,&#8221; she ventured.</p>
+<p>Which unexpected reply touched and surprised him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear child!&#8221; he said; &#8220;I&#8217;m proud of your
+friendship, too. Nothing ought to make a man prouder
+than winning a young girl&#8217;s confidence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are so kind,&#8221; she sighed, touching the blossoms
+in her bouquet with slender fingers that trembled
+a little. For she would have offered him a flower from
+it had she found courage; but it seemed presumptuous
+and she dropped her hand into her lap again.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Aristocrates opened the door for them: Selinda took
+her away.</p>
+<p>Barres had ordered flowers for the table. In the
+middle of it a doll stood, attired in academic cap and
+gown, the Stars and Stripes in one hand, in the other
+a green flag bearing a gold harp.</p>
+<p>When Dulcie came in she stopped short, enchanted
+at the sight of the decorated table. But when Aristocrates
+opened the kitchen door and her three cats
+came trotting in, she was overcome.</p>
+<p>For each cat wore a red, white and blue cravat on
+which was pinned a silk shamrock; and although
+Strindberg immediately keeled over on the rug and
+madly attacked her cravat with her hind toes, the general
+effect remained admirable.</p>
+<p>Aristocrates seated Dulcie. Upon her plate was
+the box containing chain and locket. And the girl cast
+a swift, inquiring glance across the centre flowers at
+Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it&#8217;s for you, Dulcie,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>She turned quite pale at sight of the little gift.
+After a silence she leaned on the table with both elbows,
+shading her face with her hands.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></div>
+<p>He let her alone&mdash;let the first tense moment in her
+youthful life ebb out of it; nor noticed, apparently,
+the furtive and swift touch of her best handkerchief
+to her closed eyes.</p>
+<p>Aristocrates brought her a little glass of frosted
+orange juice. After an interval, not looking at Barres,
+she sipped it. Then she took the locket and chain from
+the satin-lined box, read the inscription, closed her
+lids for a second&#8217;s silent ecstasy, opened them looking
+at him through rapturous tears, and with her eyes still
+fixed on him lifted the chain and fastened it around
+her slender neck.</p>
+<p>The luncheon then proceeded, the Prophet gravely
+assisting from the vantage point of a neighbouring
+chair, the Houri, more emotional, promenading earnestly
+at the heels of Aristocrates. As for Strindberg,
+she possessed neither manners nor concentration,
+and she alternately squalled her desires for food or
+frisked all over the studio, attempting complicated
+maneuvres with every curtain-cord and tassel within
+reach.</p>
+<p>Dulcie had found her voice again&mdash;a low, uncertain,
+tremulous little voice when she tried to thank him for
+the happiness he had given her&mdash;a clearer, firmer voice
+when he dexterously led the conversation into channels
+more familiar and serene.</p>
+<p>They talked of the graduating exercises, of her part
+in them, of her classmates, of education in general.</p>
+<p>She told him that since she was quite young she had
+learned to play the piano by remaining for an hour
+every day after school, and receiving instruction from
+a young teacher who needed a little extra pin money.</p>
+<p>As for singing, she had had no instruction. Her
+voice had never been tried, never been cultivated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll have it tried some day,&#8221; he said casually.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></div>
+<p>But Dulcie shook her head, explaining that it was
+an expensive process and not to be thought of.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did you pay for your piano lessons?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I paid twenty-five cents an hour. My mother left
+a little money for me when I was a baby. I spent it
+all that way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Every bit of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I had $500. It lasted me seven years&mdash;from
+the time I was ten to now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Are</i> you seventeen? You don&#8217;t look it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know I don&#8217;t. My teachers tell me that my mind
+is very quick but my body is slow. It annoys me to
+be mistaken for a child of fifteen. And I have to dress
+that way, too, because my dresses still fit me and clothes
+are very expensive.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie became confidential and loquacious:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, very. You don&#8217;t know about girls&#8217; clothes, I
+suppose. But they cost a very great deal. So I&#8217;ve
+had to wear out dresses I&#8217;ve had ever since I was fourteen
+and fifteen. And so I can&#8217;t put up my hair because
+it would make my dresses look ridiculous; and
+that renders the situation all the worse&mdash;to be obliged
+to go about with bobbed hair, you see? There doesn&#8217;t
+seem to be any way out of it,&#8221; she ended, with a despairing
+little laugh, &#8220;and I was seventeen last February!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cheer up! You&#8217;ll grow old fast enough. And now
+you&#8217;re going to have a jolly little salary as my model,
+and you ought to be able to buy suitable clothes.
+Oughtn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She did not answer, and he repeated the question.
+And drew from her, reluctantly, that her father, so
+far, had absorbed what money she had earned by posing.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></div>
+<p>A dull red gathered under the young man&#8217;s cheek-bones,
+but he said carelessly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;That won&#8217;t do. I&#8217;ll talk it over with your father.
+I&#8217;m very sure he&#8217;ll agree with me that you should bank
+your salary and draw out what you need for your personal
+expenses.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie sat silent over her fruit and bon-bons. Reaction
+from the keen emotions of the day had, perhaps,
+begun to have their effect.</p>
+<p>They rose and reseated themselves on the sofa, where
+she sat in the corner among gorgeous Chinese cushions,
+her reconstructed dress now limp and shabby, the limp
+madonna lily hanging from her breast.</p>
+<p>It had been for her the happiest day of her life. It
+had dawned the loneliest, but under the magic of this
+man&#8217;s kindness the day was ending like a day in Paradise.</p>
+<p>To Dulcie, however, happiness was less dependent
+upon receiving than upon giving; and like all things
+feminine, mature and immature, she desired to serve
+where her heart was enlisted&mdash;began to experience the
+restless desire to give. What? And as the question
+silently presented itself, she looked up at Barres:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Could I pose for you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On a day like this! Nonsense, Dulcie. This is
+your holiday.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d really like to&mdash;if you want me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Curl up here and take a nap. Slip off your
+gown so you won&#8217;t muss it and ask Selinda for a kimono.
+Because you&#8217;re going to need your gown this
+evening,&#8221; he added smilingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why? <i>Please</i> tell me why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. You&#8217;ve had enough excitement. Tell Selinda
+to give you a kimono. Then you can lie down in my
+room if you like. Selinda will call you in plenty of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span>
+time. And after that I&#8217;ll tell you how we&#8217;re going to
+bring your holiday to a gay conclusion.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She seemed disinclined to stir, curled up there, her
+eyes brilliant with curiosity, her lips a trifle parted in
+a happy smile. She lay that way for a few moments,
+looking up at him, her fingers caressing the locket, then
+she sat up swiftly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Must I take a nap?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She sprang to her feet, flashed past him, and disappeared
+in the corridor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t forget to wake me!&#8221; she called back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t forget!&#8221;</p>
+<p>When he heard her voice again, conversing with Selinda,
+he opened the studio door and went down stairs.</p>
+<p>Soane, rather the worse for wear, was at the desk,
+and, standing beside him, was a one-eyed man carrying
+two pedlar&#8217;s boxes under his arms. They both looked
+around quickly when Barres appeared. Before he
+reached the desk the one-eyed man turned and walked
+out hastily into the street.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soane,&#8221; said Barres, &#8220;I&#8217;ve one or two things to say
+to you. The first is this: if you don&#8217;t stop drinking
+and if you don&#8217;t keep away from Grogan&#8217;s, you&#8217;ll lose
+your job here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Musha, then, Misther Barres&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait a moment; I&#8217;m not through. I advise you to
+stop drinking and to keep away from Grogan&#8217;s. That&#8217;s
+the first thing. And next, go on and graft as much
+as you like, only warn your pedlar-friends to keep
+away from Studio No. 9. Do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;F&#8217;r the love o&#8217; God&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cut out the injured innocence, Soane. I&#8217;m telling
+you how to avoid trouble, that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Misther Barres, sorr! As God sees me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I can see you, too. I want you to behave, Soane.
+This is friendly advice. That one-eyed pedlar who
+just beat it has been bothering me. Other pedlars
+come ringing at the studio and interrupt and annoy
+me. You know the rules. If the other tenants care to
+stand for it, all right. But I&#8217;m through. Is that
+plain?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is, sorr,&#8221; said the unabashed delinquent. The
+faintest glimmer of a grin came into his battered eyes.
+&#8220;Sorra a wan o&#8217; thim ever lays a hand to No. 9 bell
+or I&#8217;ll have his life!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One thing more,&#8221; continued Barres, smiling in spite
+of himself at the Irish of it all. &#8220;I am paying Dulcie
+a salary&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wisha then&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop! I tell you that she&#8217;s in my employment on
+a salary. Don&#8217;t ever touch a penny of it again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure the child&#8217;s wages&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, they <i>don&#8217;t</i> belong to the father. Legally, perhaps,
+but the law doesn&#8217;t suit me. So if you take the
+money that she earns, and blow it in at Grogan&#8217;s, I&#8217;ll
+have to discharge her because I won&#8217;t stand for what
+you are doing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you do that, Mr. Barres?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I certainly would.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Irishman scratched his curly head in frank perplexity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie needs clothes suitable to her age,&#8221; continued
+Barres. &#8220;She needs other things. I&#8217;m going to
+take charge of her savings so don&#8217;t you attempt to
+tamper with them. You wouldn&#8217;t do such a thing,
+anyway, Soane, if this miserable drink habit hadn&#8217;t got
+a hold on you. If you don&#8217;t quit, it will down you.
+You&#8217;ll lose your place here. You know that. Try to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span>
+brace up. This is a rotten deal you&#8217;re giving yourself
+and your daughter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane wept easily. He wept now. Tearful volubility
+followed&mdash;picturesque, lit up with Hibernian
+flashes, then rambling, and a hint of slyness in it which
+kept one weeping eye on duty watching Barres all the
+while.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right; behave yourself,&#8221; concluded Barres.
+&#8220;And, Soane, I shall have three or four people to dinner
+and a little dancing afterward. I want Dulcie to
+enjoy her graduating dance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, Misther Barres, you&#8217;re that kind to the
+child&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Somebody</i> ought to be. Do you know that there
+was nobody she knew to see her graduate to-day, excepting
+myself?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the poor darling! Sure, I was that busy&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Busy sleeping off a souse,&#8221; said Barres drily.
+&#8220;And by the way, who is that stolid, German-looking
+girl who alternates with you here at the desk?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Kurtz, sorr.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. She seems stupid. Where did you dig her
+up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A fri&#8217;nd o&#8217; mine riccominds her highly, sorr.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that so? Who is he? One of your German pedlar
+friends at Grogan&#8217;s? Be careful, Soane. You
+Sinn Feiners are headed for trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He turned and mounted the stairs. Soane looked
+after him with an uneasy expression, partly humorous.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, then, Mr. Barres,&#8221; he said, &#8220;don&#8217;t be botherin&#8217;
+afther the likes of us poor Irish. Is there anny
+harrm in a sup o&#8217; beer av a Dootchman pays?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres looked back at him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;A one-eyed Dutchman?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, g&#8217;wan, sorr, wid yer hokin&#8217; an&#8217; jokin&#8217;! Is it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span>
+graft ye say? An&#8217; how can ye say it, sorr, knowin&#8217;
+me as ye do, Misther Barres?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The impudent grin on the Irishman&#8217;s face was too
+much for the young man. He continued to mount the
+stairs, laughing.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span>
+<a name='X_HER_EVENING' id='X_HER_EVENING'></a>
+<h2>X
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />HER EVENING</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>As he entered the studio he heard the telephone
+ringing. Presently Selinda marched in:</p>
+<p>&#8220;A lady, sir, who will not giff her name, desires
+to spik to Mr. Barres.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t talk to anonymous people,&#8221; he said curtly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall tell her, sir?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. Did you make Miss Dulcie comfortable?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yess, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right. Now, take that dress of Miss Dulcie&#8217;s,
+go out to some shop on Fifth Avenue, buy a
+pretty party gown of similar dimensions, and bring
+it back with you. Take a taxi both ways. Wait&mdash;take
+her stockings and slippers, too, and buy her some
+fine ones. And some underwear suitable.&#8221; He went
+to a desk, unlocked it, and handed the maid a flat
+packet of bank-notes. &#8220;Be sure the things are nice,&#8221;
+he insisted.</p>
+<p>Selinda, starched, immaculate, frosty-eyed, marched
+out. She returned a few moments later, wearing jacket
+and hat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sir, the lady on the telephone hass called again.
+The lady would inquire of Mr. Barres if perhaps he
+has recollection of the Fountain of Marie de Médicis.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres reddened with surprise and pleasure:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Yes, indeed, I&#8217;ll speak to <i>that</i> lady. Hang up
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
+the service receiver, Selinda.&#8221; And he stepped to the
+studio telephone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla?&#8221; he exclaimed in a low, eager voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;C&#8217;est moi, Thessa! Have you a letter from me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, you little wretch! Oh, Thessa, you&#8217;re certainly
+a piker! Fancy my not hearing one word from
+you since April!&mdash;not a whisper, not a sign to tell me
+that you are alive&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, hush! It was not because I did not wish
+to see you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it was! You knew bally well that I hadn&#8217;t
+your address and that you had mine! Is that what
+you call friendship?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t understand what you are saying. I
+wanted to see you. It has been impossible&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are not singing and dancing anywhere in New
+York. I watched the papers. I even went to the
+Palace of Mirrors to enquire if you had signed with
+them there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait! Be careful, please!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be careful what you say over the telephone. For
+my sake, Garry. Don&#8217;t use my former name or say
+anything to identify me with any place or profession.
+I&#8217;ve been in trouble. I&#8217;m in trouble still. Had you
+no letter from me this morning?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is disquieting news. I posted a letter to you
+last night. You should have had it in your morning
+mail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No letter has come from you. I had no letters at
+all in the morning mail, and only one or two important
+business letters since.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I&#8217;m deeply worried. I shall have to see you
+unless that letter is delivered to you by evening.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Splendid! But you&#8217;ll have to come to me, Thessa.
+I&#8217;ve invited a few people to dine here and dance afterwards.
+If you&#8217;ll dine with us, I&#8217;ll get another man to
+balance the table. Will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a moment she said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. What time?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eight! This is wonderful of you, Thessa!&#8221; he said
+excitedly. &#8220;If you&#8217;re in trouble we&#8217;ll clear it up between
+us. I&#8217;m so happy that you will give me this
+proof of friendship.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear boy,&#8221; she said in a troubled voice. &#8220;I
+should be more of a friend if I kept away from you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! You promise, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes ... Do you realise that to-night another
+summer moon is to witness our reunion?... I shall
+come to you once more under a full June moon.... And
+then, perhaps, no more.... Never.... Unless
+after the world ends I come to you through shadowy
+outer space&mdash;a ghost drifting&mdash;a shred of mist
+across the moon, seeking you once more!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My poor child,&#8221; he said laughing, &#8220;you must be in
+no end of low spirits to talk that way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It does sound morbid. But I have plenty of courage,
+Garry. I shall not snivel on the starched bosom
+of your evening shirt when we meet. Donc, à bientôt,
+monsieur. Soyez tranquille! You shall not be ashamed
+of me among your guests.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fancy!&#8221; he laughed happily. &#8220;Don&#8217;t worry,
+Thessa. We&#8217;ll fix up whatever bothers you. Eight
+o&#8217;clock! Don&#8217;t forget!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am not likely to,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Until Selinda returned from her foray along Fifth
+Avenue, Barres remained in the studio, lying in his
+armchair, still possessed by the delightful spell, still
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
+excited by the prospect of seeing Thessalie Dunois
+again, here, under his own roof.</p>
+<p>But when the slant-eyed and spotlessly blond Finn
+arrived, he came back out of his retrospective trance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you get some pretty things for Miss Soane?&#8221;
+he enquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yess, sir, be-ootiful.&#8221; Selinda deposited on the
+table a sheaf of paid bills and the balance of the bank-notes.
+&#8220;Would Mr. Barres be kind enough to inspect
+the clothes for Miss Soane?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, thanks. You say they&#8217;re all right?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yess, sir. They are heavenly be-ootiful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well. Tell Aristocrates to lay out my clothes
+after you have dressed Miss Dulcie. There will be two
+extra people to dinner. Tell Aristocrates. Is Miss
+Dulcie still asleep?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yess, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. Wake her in time to dress her so she
+can come out here and give me a chance&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He
+glanced at the clock &#8220;Better wake her now, Selinda.
+It&#8217;s time for her to dress and evacuate my quarters.
+I&#8217;ll take forty winks here until she&#8217;s ready.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Barres lay dozing on the sofa when Dulcie came in.</p>
+<p>Selinda, enraptured by her own efficiency in grooming
+and attiring the girl, marched behind her, unable
+to detach herself from her own handiwork.</p>
+<p>From crown to heel the transfiguration was absolute&mdash;from
+the point of her silk slipper to the topmost
+curl on the head which Selinda had dressed to perfection.</p>
+<p>For Selinda had been a lady&#8217;s maid in great houses,
+and also had a mania for grooming herself with the
+minute and thorough devotion of a pedigreed cat. And
+Dulcie emerged from her hands like some youthful sea-nymph
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+out of a bath of foam, snowy-sweet as some
+fresh and slender flower.</p>
+<p>With a shy courage born with her own transfiguration,
+she went to Barres, where he lay on the sofa, and
+bent over him.</p>
+<p>She had made no sound; perhaps her nearness awoke
+him, for he opened his eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie!&#8221; he exclaimed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do I please you?&#8221; she whispered.</p>
+<p>He sat up abruptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wonderful child!&#8221; he said, frankly astonished.
+Whereupon he got off the sofa, walked all around her
+inspecting her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a get-up! What a girl!&#8221; he murmured.
+&#8220;You lovely little thing, you astound me! Selinda, you
+certainly know a thing or two. Take it from me, you
+do Miss Soane and yourself more credit in your way
+than I do with paint and canvas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie blushed vividly; the white skin of Selinda also
+reddened with pleasure at her master&#8217;s enthusiasm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell Aristocrates to fix my bath and lay out my
+clothes,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I&#8217;ve guests coming and I&#8217;ve got to
+hustle!&#8221; And to Dulcie: &#8220;We&#8217;re going to have a little
+party in honour of your graduation. That&#8217;s what I
+have to tell you, dear. Does it please you? Do your
+pretty clothes please you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl, overwhelmed, could only look at him. Her
+lips, vivid and slightly parted, quivered as her breath
+came irregularly. But she found no words&mdash;nothing
+to say except in the passionate gratitude of her grey
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear child,&#8221; he said gently. Then, after a moment&#8217;s
+silence, he eased the tension with his quick smile:
+&#8220;Wonder-child, go and seat yourself very carefully,
+and be jolly careful you don&#8217;t rumple your frock, because
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span>
+I want you to astonish one or two people this
+evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie found her voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;m so astonished at myself that I don&#8217;t seem
+real. I seem to be somebody else&mdash;long ago!&#8221; She
+stepped close to him, opened her locket for his inspection,
+holding it out to him as far as the chain permitted.
+It framed a miniature of a red-haired, grey-eyed
+girl of sixteen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your mother, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. How perfectly it fits into my locket! I carry
+it always in my purse.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It might easily be yourself, Dulcie,&#8221; he said in a
+low voice. &#8220;You are her living image.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. That is what astonishes me. To-night, for
+the first time in my life, it occurred to me that I look
+like this girl picture of my mother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You never thought so before?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never.&#8221; She stood looking down at the laughing
+face in the locket for a few moments, then, lifting her
+eyes to his:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been made over, in a day, to look like this....
+You did it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! Selinda and her curling iron did it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They laughed a little.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you have made me. You began to
+make me all over three months ago&mdash;oh, longer ago
+than that!&mdash;you began to remake me the first time you
+ever spoke to me&mdash;the first time you opened your door
+to me. That was nearly two years ago. And ever since
+I have been slowly becoming somebody quite new&mdash;inside
+and outside&mdash;until to-night, you see, I begin to
+look like my mother.&#8221; She smiled at him, drew a deep
+breath, closed the locket, dropped it on her breast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mustn&#8217;t keep you,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I wanted to show
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span>
+the picture&mdash;so you can understand what you have done
+for me to make me look like that.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>When Barres returned to the studio, freshened and
+groomed for the evening, he found Dulcie at the piano,
+playing the little song she had sung that morning, and
+singing the words under her breath. But she ceased
+as he came up, and swung around on the piano-stool
+to confront him with the most radiant smile he had
+ever seen on a human face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a day this has been!&#8221; she said, clasping her
+hands tightly. &#8220;I simply cannot make it seem real.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t ended yet, either. There&#8217;s a night to every
+day, you know. And your graduation party will begin
+in a few moments.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know. I&#8217;m fearfully excited. You&#8217;ll stay near
+me, won&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet! Did I tell you who are coming? Well,
+then, you won&#8217;t feel strange, because I&#8217;ve merely asked
+two or three men who live in Dragon Court&mdash;men you
+see every day&mdash;Mr. Trenor, Mr. Mandel, and Mr.
+Westmore.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; she said, relieved.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Also,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I have asked Miss Souval&mdash;that
+tall, pretty girl who sometimes sits for Mr. Trenor&mdash;Damaris
+Souval. You remember her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Also,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;Mr. Mandel wishes to bring
+a young married woman who has developed a violent
+desire for the artistic and informal, but who belongs
+in the Social Register.&#8221; He laughed. &#8220;It&#8217;s all right
+if Corot Mandel wants her. Her name is Mrs. Helmund&mdash;Elsena
+Helmund. Mr. Trenor is painting her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s face was serious but calm.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;And then, to even the table,&#8221; concluded Barres
+smilingly, &#8220;I invited a girl I knew long ago in Paris.
+Her name is Thessalie Dunois; and she&#8217;s very lovely to
+look upon, Dulcie. I am very sure you will like her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a silence; then the electric bell rang in
+the corridor, announcing the arrival of the first guest.
+As Barres rose, Dulcie laid her hand on his arm&mdash;a
+swift, involuntary gesture&mdash;as though the girl were
+depending on his protection.</p>
+<p>The winning appeal touched him and amused him,
+too.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry, dear,&#8221; he said. &#8220;You&#8217;ll have the prettiest
+frock in the studio&mdash;if you need that knowledge
+to reassure you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The corridor door opened and closed. Somebody
+went into his bedroom with Selinda&mdash;that being the
+only available cloak-room for women.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span>
+<a name='XI_HER_NIGHT' id='XI_HER_NIGHT'></a>
+<h2>XI
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />HER NIGHT</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>&#8220;Thessalie Dunois! This is charming of
+you!&#8221; said Barres, crossing the studio swiftly
+and taking her hand in both of his.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad to see you, Garry&mdash;&#8221; she looked past
+him across the studio at Dulcie, and her voice died out
+for a moment. &#8220;Who is that girl?&#8221; she enquired under
+her breath.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll present you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait. <i>Who</i> is she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie Soane&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Soane?</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I&#8217;ll tell you about her later&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In a moment, Garry.&#8221; Thessalie looked across the
+room at the girl for a second or two longer, then turned
+a troubled, preoccupied gaze on Barres. &#8220;Have you
+a letter from me? I posted it last night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The doorbell rang. He could hear more guests entering
+the corridor beyond. A faint smile&mdash;the forced
+smile of courage&mdash;altered Thessalie&#8217;s features now, until
+it became a fixed and pretty mask.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Contrive to give me a moment alone with you this
+evening,&#8221; she whispered. &#8220;My need is great, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whenever you say! Now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I want to talk to that young girl first.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They walked over to where Dulcie stood by the piano,
+silent and self-possessed.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa,&#8221; he said, &#8220;this is Miss Soane, who graduated
+from high school to-day, and in whose honour I
+am giving this little party.&#8221; And to Dulcie he said:
+&#8220;Miss Dunois and I were friends when I lived in France.
+Please tell her about your picture, which you and I are
+doing.&#8221; He turned as he finished speaking, and went
+forward to welcome Esmé Trenor and Damaris Souval,
+who happened to arrive together.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the cunning little girl over there!&#8221; exclaimed
+the tall and lovely Damaris, greeting Barres with cordial,
+outstretched hands. &#8220;Where did you find such
+an engaging little thing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t recognise her?&#8221; he asked, amused.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I? No. Should I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s Dulcie Soane, the girl at the desk down-stairs!&#8221;
+said Barres, delighted. &#8220;This is her party.
+She has just graduated from high school, and she&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Belongs to Barres,&#8221; interrupted Esmé Trenor in
+his drawling voice. &#8220;Unusual, isn&#8217;t she, Damaris?&mdash;logical
+anatomy, ornamental, vague development; nice
+lines, not obvious&mdash;like yours, Damaris,&#8221; he added impudently.
+Then waving his lank hand with its over-polished
+nails: &#8220;I like the indefinite accented with one
+ripping value. Look at that hair!&mdash;lac and burnt
+orange rubbed in, smeared, then wiped off with the
+thumb! You follow the intention, Barres?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You talk too much, Esmé,&#8221; interrupted Damaris
+tartly. &#8220;Who is that lovely being talking to the little
+Soane girl, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A friend of my Paris days&mdash;Thessalie Dunois&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+Again he checked himself to turn and greet Corot Mandel,
+subtle creator and director of exotic spectacles&mdash;another
+tall and rather heavily built man, with a mop
+of black and shiny hair, a monocle, and sanguine features
+slightly oriental.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></div>
+<p>With Corot Mandel had come Elsena Helmund&mdash;an
+attractive woman of thoroughbred origin and formal
+environment, and apparently fed up with both. For
+she frankly preferred &#8220;grades&#8221; to &#8220;registered stock,&#8221;
+and she prowled through every art and theatrical purlieu
+from the Mews to Westchester, in eternal and unquiet
+search for an antidote to the sex-ennui which she
+erroneously believed to be an intellectual necessity for
+self-expression.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is that winning child with red hair?&#8221; she enquired,
+nodding informal recognition to the other
+guests, whom she already knew. &#8220;Don&#8217;t tell me,&#8221; she
+added, elevating a quizzing glass and staring at Dulcie,
+&#8220;that this engaging infant has a history already! It
+isn&#8217;t possible, with that April smile in her child eyes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet she hasn&#8217;t a history, Elsena,&#8221; said Barres,
+frowning; &#8220;and I&#8217;ll see that she doesn&#8217;t begin one as
+long as she&#8217;s in my neighbourhood.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Corot Mandel, who had been heavily inspecting Dulcie
+through his monocle, now stood twirling it by its
+frayed and greasy cord:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I could do something for her&mdash;unless she&#8217;s particularly
+yours, Barres?&#8221; he suggested. &#8220;I&#8217;ve seldom seen
+a better type in New York.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You idiot. Don&#8217;t you recognise her? She&#8217;s Dulcie
+Soane! You could have picked her yourself if you&#8217;d
+had any flaire.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, hell,&#8221; murmured Mandel, disgusted. &#8220;And I
+thought I possessed flaire. Your private property, I
+suppose?&#8221; he added sourly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Absolutely. Keep off!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Watch me,&#8221; murmured Corot Mandel, with a wry
+face, as they moved forward to join the others and be
+presented to the little guest of the evening.</p>
+<p>Westmore came in at the same moment&mdash;a short,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span>
+blond, vigorous young man, who knew everybody except
+Thessalie, and proceeded to smash the ice in characteristic
+fashion:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie! You beautiful child! How are you,
+duckey?&#8221;&mdash;catching her by both hands,&mdash;&#8220;a little salute
+for Nunky? Yes?&#8221;&mdash;kissing her heartily on both
+cheeks. &#8220;I&#8217;ve a gift for you in my overcoat pocket.
+We&#8217;ll sneak out and get it after dinner!&#8221; He gave her
+hands a hearty squeeze, turned to the others: &#8220;I ought
+to have been Miss Soane&#8217;s godfather. So I appointed
+myself as such. Where are the cocktails, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Road-to-ruin cocktails were served&mdash;frosted orange
+juice for Dulcie. Everybody drank her health. Then
+Aristocrates gracefully condescended to announce dinner.
+And Barres took out Dulcie, her arm resting light
+as a snowflake on his sleeve.</p>
+<p>There were flowers everywhere in the dining-room;
+table, buffet, curtains, lustres were gay with early blossoms,
+exhaling the haunting scent of spring.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you like it, Dulcie?&#8221; he whispered.</p>
+<p>She merely turned and looked at him, quite unable
+to speak, and he laughed at her brilliant eyes and
+flushed cheeks, and, dropping his right hand, squeezed
+hers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s your party, Sweetness&mdash;all yours! You must
+have a good time every minute!&#8221; And he turned, still
+smiling, to Thessalie Dunois on his left:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s quite wonderful, Thessa, to have you here&mdash;to
+be actually seated beside you at my own table. I shall
+not let you slip away from me again, you enchanting
+ghost!&mdash;and leave me with a dislocated heart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, that sounds almost sentimental. We&#8217;re not,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do I know? You never gave me a chance to
+be sentimental.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></div>
+<p>She laughed mirthlessly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never gave you a chance? And our brief but headlong
+career together, monsieur? What was it but a
+continuous cataract of chances?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But we were laughing our silly heads off every minute!
+I had no opportunity.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That seemed to amuse her and awaken the ever-latent
+humour in her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Opportunity,&#8221; she observed demurely, &#8220;should be
+created and taken, not shyly awaited with eyes rolled
+upward and a sucked thumb.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They both laughed outright. Her colour rose; the
+old humorous challenge was in her eyes again; the
+subtle mask was already slipping from her features,
+revealing them in all their charming recklessness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know my creed,&#8221; she said; &#8220;to go forward&mdash;laugh&mdash;and
+accept what Destiny sends you&mdash;still
+laughing!&#8221; Her smile altered again, became, for a
+moment, strange and vague. &#8220;God knows that is what
+I am doing to-night,&#8221; she murmured, lifting her slim
+glass, in which the gush of sunny bubbles caught the
+candlelight. &#8220;To Destiny&mdash;whatever it may be!
+Drink with me, Garry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Around them the chatter and vivacity increased, as
+Damaris ended a duel of wit with Westmore and prepared
+for battle with Corot Mandel. Everybody
+seemed to be irresponsibly loquacious except Dulcie,
+who sat between Barres and Esmé Trenor, a silent,
+smiling, reserved little listener. For Barres was still
+conversationally involved with Thessalie, and Esmé
+Trenor, languid and detached, being entirely ignored
+by Damaris, whom he had taken out, awaited his own
+proper modicum of worship from his silent little neighbour
+on his left&mdash;which tribute he took for granted
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
+was his sacred due, and which, hitherto, he had invariably
+received from woman.</p>
+<p>But nobody seemed to be inclined to worship; Damaris
+scarcely deigned to notice him, his impudence,
+perhaps, still rankling. Thessalie, laughingly engaged
+with Barres, remained oblivious to the fashionable
+portrait painter. As for Elsena Helmund, that
+youthful matron was busily pretending to comprehend
+Corot Mandel&#8217;s covert orientalisms, and secretly wondering
+whether they were, perhaps, as improper as
+Westmore kept whispering to her they were, urging her
+to pick up her skirts and run.</p>
+<p>Esmé Trenor permitted a few weary but slightly
+disturbed glances to rest on Dulcie from time to time,
+but made no effort to entertain her.</p>
+<p>And she, on her part, evinced no symptoms of worshipping
+him. And all the while he was thinking to
+himself:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can this be the janitor&#8217;s daughter? Is she the
+same rather soiled, impersonal child whom I scarcely
+ever noticed&mdash;the thin, immature, negligible little
+drudge with a head full of bobbed red hair?&#8221;</p>
+<p>His lack of vision, of finer discernment, deeply annoyed
+him. Her lack of inclination to worship him,
+now that she had the God-sent opportunity, irritated
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The silly little bounder,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;how can she
+sit beside me without timidly venturing to entertain
+me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He stole another profoundly annoyed glance at Dulcie.
+The child was certainly beautiful&mdash;a slim, lovely,
+sensitive thing of qualities so delicate that the painter
+of pretty women became even more surprised and
+chagrined that it had taken Barres to discover this desirable
+girl in the silent, shabby child of Larry Soane.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></div>
+<p>Presently he lurched part way toward her in his
+chair, and looked at her with bored but patronising
+encouragement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talk to me,&#8221; he said languidly.</p>
+<p>Dulcie turned and looked at him out of uninterested
+grey eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talk to me,&#8221; he repeated pettishly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talk to yourself,&#8221; retorted Dulcie, and turned
+again to listen to the gay nonsense which Damaris and
+Westmore were exchanging amid peals of general
+laughter.</p>
+<p>But Esmé Trenor was thunderstruck. A deep and
+painful colour stained his pallid features. Never before
+had mortal woman so flouted him. It was unthinkable.
+It really wouldn&#8217;t do. There must be some explanation
+for this young girl&#8217;s monstrous attitude toward
+offered opportunity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say,&#8221; he insisted, still very red, &#8220;are you bashful,
+by any chance?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie slowly turned toward him again:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes I am bashful; not now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. Then wouldn&#8217;t you like to talk to me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fancy! And why not, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I haven&#8217;t anything to say to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear child, that is the incentive to all conversation&mdash;lack
+of anything to say. You should practise the
+art of saying nothing politely.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>You</i> should have practised it enough to say good
+morning to me during these last five years,&#8221; said Dulcie
+gravely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I say! You&#8217;re rather severe, you know! You
+were just a little thing running about underfoot!&mdash;I&#8217;m
+sorry you feel angry&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I do not. But how can I have anything to talk to
+you about, Mr. Trenor, when you have never even
+noticed me all these years, although often I have handed
+you your keys and your letters.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was quite stupid of me. I&#8217;m sorry. But a man,
+you see, doesn&#8217;t notice children&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some men do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean Mr. Barres! That <i>is</i> unkind. Why rub
+it in, Dulcie? I&#8217;m rather an interesting fellow, after
+all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you?&#8221; she asked absently.</p>
+<p>Her honest indifference to him was perfectly apparent
+to Esmé Trenor. This would never do. She must
+be subdued, made sane, disciplined!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know,&#8221; he drawled, leaning lankly nearer,
+dropping both arms on the cloth, and fixing his heavy-lidded
+eyes intensely on her,&#8220;&mdash;do you know&mdash;do you
+guess, perhaps, why I never spoke to you in all these
+years?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did not trouble yourself to speak to me, I
+imagine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are wrong. I was <i>afraid</i>!&#8221; And he stared at
+her pallidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Afraid?&#8221; she repeated, puzzled.</p>
+<p>He leaned nearer, confidential, sad:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall I tell you a precious secret, Dulcie? I am a
+coward. I am a slave of fear. I am afraid of beauty!
+Isn&#8217;t that a very strange thing to say? Can you understand
+the subtlety of that indefinable psychology?
+Fear is an emotion. Fear of the beautiful is still a
+subtler emotion. Fear, itself, is beautiful beyond words.
+Beauty is Fear. Fear is Beauty. Do you follow me,
+Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said the girl, bewildered.</p>
+<p>Esmé sighed:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Some day you will follow me. It is my destiny to
+be followed, pursued, haunted by loveliness impotently
+seeking to express itself to me, while I, fearing it, dare
+only to express my fear with brush and pencil!...
+<i>When</i> shall I paint you?&#8221; he added with sad benevolence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When shall I try to interpret upon canvas my subtle
+fear of you?&#8221; And, as the girl remained mute:
+&#8220;When,&#8221; he explained languidly, &#8220;shall I appoint an
+hour for you to sit to me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am Mr. Barres&#8217;s model,&#8221; she said, flushing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall have to arrange it with him, then,&#8221; he
+nodded, wearily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think you can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fancy! Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I do not wish to sit to anybody except Mr.
+Barres,&#8221; she said candidly, &#8220;and what you paint does
+not interest me at all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you familiar with my work?&#8221; he asked incredulously.</p>
+<p>She shook her head, shrugged, and turned to Barres,
+who had at last relinquished Thessalie to Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Sweetness,&#8221; he said gaily, &#8220;do you get on
+with Esmé Trenor?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He talked,&#8221; she said in a voice perfectly audible to
+Esmé.</p>
+<p>Barres glanced toward Esmé, secretly convulsed, but
+that young apostle of Fear had swung one thin leg over
+the other and was now presenting one shoulder and the
+back of his head to them both, apparently in delightful
+conversation with Elsena Helmund, who was fed
+up on him and his fears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You must always talk to your neighbours at dinner,&#8221;
+insisted Barres, still immensely amused. &#8220;Esmé
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span>
+is a very popular man with fashionable women, Dulcie,&mdash;a
+painter in much demand and much adored....
+Why do you smile?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie smiled again, deliciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anyway,&#8221; continued Barres, &#8220;you must now give
+the signal for us to rise by standing up. I&#8217;m so proud
+of you, Dulcie, darling!&#8221; he added impulsively; &#8220;&mdash;and
+everybody is mad about you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You made me&mdash;&#8221; she laughed mischievously, &#8220;&mdash;out
+of a rag and a bone and a hank of hair!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You made yourself out of nothing, child! And
+everybody thinks you delightful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do <i>you</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear girl!&mdash;of course I do. Does it make such
+a difference to you, Dulcie&mdash;my affection for you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it&mdash;<i>affection</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It certainly is. Didn&#8217;t you know it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t&mdash;know&mdash;what it was.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course it is affection. Who could be with you
+as I have been and not grow tremendously fond of
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody ever did except you. Mr. Westmore was
+always nice. But&mdash;but you are so kind&mdash;I can&#8217;t express&mdash;I&mdash;c-can&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+Her emotion checked her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t try, dear!&#8221; he said hastily. &#8220;We&#8217;re going
+in to have a jolly dance now. You and I begin it together.
+Don&#8217;t you let any other fellow take you
+away!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked up, laughed blissfully, gazing at him
+with brilliant eyes a little dimmed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll all be at your heels,&#8221; he said, beginning to
+comprehend the beauty he had let loose on the world,
+&#8220;&mdash;every man-jack of them, mark my prophecy! But
+ours is the first dance, Dulcie. Promise?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do. And I promise you the next&mdash;please&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m host,&#8221; he said doubtfully, and a trifle
+taken aback. &#8220;We&#8217;ll have some other dances together,
+anyway. But I couldn&#8217;t monopolise you, Sweetness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl looked at him silently, then her grey, intelligent
+eyes rested directly on Thessalie Dunois.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you dance with her?&#8221; she asked gravely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, of course. And with the others, too. Tell
+me, Dulcie, did you find Miss Dunois agreeable?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;don&#8217;t&mdash;know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, you ought to like her. She&#8217;s very attractive.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She is quite beautiful,&#8221; said the girl, watching
+Thessalie across his shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she really is. What did you and she talk
+about?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father,&#8221; replied Dulcie, determined to have no further
+commerce with Thessalie Dunois which involved
+a secrecy excluding Barres. &#8220;She asked me if he were
+not my father. Then she asked me a great many stupid
+questions about him. And about Miss Kurtz, who
+takes the desk when father is out. Also, she asked
+me about the mail and whether the postman delivered
+letters at the desk or in the box outside, and about the
+tenants&#8217; mail boxes, and who distributed the letters
+through them. She seemed interested,&#8221; added the girl
+indifferently, &#8220;but I thought it a silly subject for conversation.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres, much perplexed, sat gazing at Dulcie in silence
+for a moment, then recollecting his duty, he
+smiled and whispered:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stand up, now, Dulcie. You are running this
+show.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl flushed and rose, and the others stood up.
+Barres took her to the studio door, then returned to
+the table with the group of men.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he exclaimed happily, &#8220;what do you fellows
+think of Soane&#8217;s little girl now? Isn&#8217;t she the sweetest
+thing you ever heard of?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A peach!&#8221; said Westmore, in his quick, hearty voice.
+&#8220;What&#8217;s the idea, Garry? Is it to be her career, this
+posing business? And where is it going to land her?
+In the Winter Garden?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is it going to land <i>you</i>?&#8221; added Esmé impudently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, I don&#8217;t know, myself,&#8221; replied Barres, with
+a troubled smile. &#8220;The little thing always appealed
+to me&mdash;her loneliness and neglect, and&mdash;and something
+about the child&mdash;I can&#8217;t define it&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Possibilities?&#8221; suggested Mandel viciously. &#8220;Take
+it from me, you&#8217;re some picker, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps. Anyway, I&#8217;ve given her the run of my
+place for the last two years and more. And she has
+been growing up all the while, and I didn&#8217;t notice it.
+And suddenly, this spring, I discovered her for the
+first time.... And&mdash;well, look at her to-night!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s your private model, isn&#8217;t she?&#8221; persisted Mandel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Entirely,&#8221; replied Barres drily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Selfish dog!&#8221; remarked Westmore, with his lively,
+wholesome laugh. &#8220;I once asked her to sit for me&mdash;more
+out of good nature than anything else. And a
+jolly fine little model she ought to make you, Garry.
+She&#8217;s beginning to acquire a figure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s quite wonderful that way, too,&#8221; nodded
+Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Undraped?&#8221; inquired Esmé.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A miracle,&#8221; nodded Barres absently. &#8220;Paint is becoming
+inadequate. I shall model her this summer. I
+tell you I have never seen anything to compare to her.
+Never!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;What else will you do with her?&#8221; drawled Esmé.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ll go stale on her some day, of course. Am I
+next?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>No</i>!... I don&#8217;t know what she&#8217;ll do. It begins
+to look like a responsibility, doesn&#8217;t it? She&#8217;s such a
+fine little girl,&#8221; explained Barres warmly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve grown
+quite fond of her&mdash;interested in her. Do you know
+she has an excellent mind? And nice, fastidious instincts?
+She <i>thinks</i> straight. That souse of a father
+of hers ought to be jailed for the way he neglects her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you thinking of adopting her?&#8221; asked Trenor,
+with the faintest of sneers, which escaped Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Adopt a <i>girl</i>? Oh, Lord, no! I can&#8217;t do anything
+like that. Yet&mdash;I hate to think of her future,
+too ... unless somebody looks out for her. But it
+isn&#8217;t possible for <i>me</i> to do anything for her except
+to give her a good job with a decent man&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Meaning yourself,&#8221; commented Mandel, acidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I <i>am</i> decent,&#8221; retorted Barres warmly, amid
+general laughter. &#8220;You fellows know what chances
+she might take with some men,&#8221; he added, laughing at
+his own warm retort.</p>
+<p>Esmé and Corot Mandel nodded piously, each perfectly
+aware of what chance any attractive girl would
+run with his predatory neighbour.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To shift the subject of discourse&mdash;that girl, Thessalie
+Dunois,&#8221; began Westmore, in his energetic way,
+&#8220;is about the cleverest and prettiest woman I&#8217;ve seen
+in New York outside the theatre district.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I met her in France,&#8221; said Barres, carelessly.
+&#8220;She really is wonderfully clever.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall let her talk to me,&#8221; drawled Esmé, flicking
+at his cigarette. &#8220;It will be a liberal education for
+her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mandel&#8217;s slow, oriental eyes blinked contempt; he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span>
+caressed his waxed moustache with nicotine-stained fingers:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am going to direct an out-of-door spectacle&mdash;a
+sort of play&mdash;not named yet&mdash;up your way, Barres&mdash;at
+Northbrook. It&#8217;s for the Belgians.... If Miss
+Dunois&mdash;unless,&#8221; he added sardonically, &#8220;you have her
+reserved, also&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! You cast Thessalie Dunois and she&#8217;ll
+make your show for you, Mandel!&#8221; exclaimed Barres.
+&#8220;I know and I&#8217;m telling you. Don&#8217;t make any mistake:
+there&#8217;s a girl who can make good!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. Is she a professional?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was on the tip of Barres&#8217;s tongue to say
+&#8220;Rather!&#8221; But he checked himself, not knowing Thessalie&#8217;s
+wishes concerning details of her incognito.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Talk to her about it,&#8221; he said, rising.</p>
+<p>The others laid aside cigars and followed him into
+the studio, where already the gramophone was going
+and Aristocrates and Selinda were rolling up the rugs.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Barres and Dulcie danced until the music, twice revived,
+expired in husky dissonance, and a new disc was
+substituted by Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By heaven!&#8221; he said, &#8220;I&#8217;ll dance this with my godchild
+or I&#8217;ll murder you, Garry. Back up, there!&mdash;you
+soulless monopolist!&#8221; And Dulcie, half laughing,
+half vexed, was swept away in Westmore&#8217;s vigorous
+arms, with a last, long, appealing look at Barres.</p>
+<p>The latter danced in turn with his feminine guests,
+as in duty bound&mdash;in pleasure bound, as far as concerned
+Thessalie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And to think, to <i>think</i>,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;that you and
+I, who once trod the moonlit way, June-mad, moon-mad,
+should be dancing here together once more!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Alas,&#8221; she said, &#8220;though this is June again, moon
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span>
+and madness are lacking. So is the enchanted river
+and your canoe. And so is that gay heart of mine&mdash;that
+funny, careless little heart which was once my
+comrade, sending me into a happy gale of laughter
+every time it counselled me to folly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is the matter, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, there is so much the matter that I don&#8217;t
+know how to tell you.... And yet, I have nobody
+else to tell.... Is that maid of yours German?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Finnish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t be certain,&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;Your
+guests are all American, are they not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the little Soane girl? Are her sympathies
+with Germany?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, certainly not! What gave you that idea,
+Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The music ran down; Westmore, the indefatigable,
+still keeping possession of Dulcie, went over to wind
+up the gramophone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t there some place where I could be alone with
+you for a few minutes?&#8221; whispered Thessalie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a balcony under the middle window. It
+overlooks the court.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded and laid her hand on his arm, and they
+walked to the long window, opened it, and stepped out.</p>
+<p>Moonlight fell into the courtyard, silvering everything.
+Down there on the grass the Prophet sat, motionless
+as a black sphynx in the lustre of the moon.</p>
+<p>Thessalie looked down into the shadowy court, then
+turned and glanced up at the tiled roof just above
+them, where a chimney rose in silhouette against the
+pale radiance of the sky.</p>
+<p>Behind the chimney, flat on their stomachs, lay two
+men who had been watching, through an upper ventilating
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span>
+pane of glass, the scene in the brilliantly
+lighted studio below them.</p>
+<p>The men were Soane and his crony, the one-eyed pedlar.
+But neither Thessalie nor Barres could see them
+up there behind the chimney.</p>
+<p>Yet the girl, as though some unquiet instinct warned
+her, glanced up at the eaves above her head once more,
+and Barres looked up, too.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you see up there?&#8221; he inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing.... There could be nobody up there to
+listen, could there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who would want to climb up on the roof to spy on
+you or me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t speak so loud, Garry&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What on earth is the trouble?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The same trouble that drove me out of France,&#8221;
+she said in a low voice. &#8220;Don&#8217;t ask me what it was.
+All I can tell you is this: I am followed everywhere
+I go. I cannot make a living. Whenever I secure an
+engagement and return at the appointed time to fill
+it, something happens.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What happens?&#8221; he asked bluntly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They repudiate the agreement,&#8221; she said in a quiet
+voice. &#8220;They give no reasons; they simply tell me
+that they don&#8217;t want me. Do you remember that evening
+when I left the Palace of Mirrors?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, I do&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was only one example. I left with an excellent
+contract, signed. The next day, when I returned,
+the management took my contract out of my hands
+and tore it up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What! Why, that&#8217;s outrageous&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush! That is only one instance. Everywhere it
+is the same. I am accepted after a try-out; then,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
+without apparent reason, I am told not to return.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean there is some conspiracy&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he began
+incredulously, but she interrupted him with a white
+hand over his, nervously committing him to silence:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen, Garry! Men have followed me here from
+Europe. I am constantly watched in New York. I
+cannot shake off this surveillance for very long at a
+time. Sooner or later I become conscious again of
+curious eyes regarding me; of features that all at once
+become unpleasantly familiar in the throng. After
+several encounters in street or car or restaurant, I
+recognise these. Often and often instinct alone warns
+me that I am followed; sometimes I am so certain of
+it that I take pains to prove it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you prove it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Usually.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what the devil&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush! I seem to be getting into deeper trouble
+than that, Garry. I have changed my residence so
+many, many times!&mdash;but every time people get into my
+room when I am away and ransack my effects....
+And now I never enter my room unless the landlady
+is with me, or the janitor&mdash;especially after dark.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good Lord!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen! I am not really frightened. It isn&#8217;t fear,
+Garry. That word isn&#8217;t in my creed, you know. But
+it bewilders me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the name of common sense,&#8221; he demanded, &#8220;what
+reason has anybody to annoy you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her hand tightened on his:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I only knew who these people are&mdash;whether they
+are agents of the Count d&#8217;Eblis or of the&mdash;the French
+Government! But I can&#8217;t determine. They steal letters
+directed to me; they steal letters which I write
+and mail with my own hands. I wrote to you yesterday,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+because I&mdash;I felt I couldn&#8217;t stand this persecution&mdash;any&mdash;longer&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her voice became unsteady; she waited, gripping his
+hand, until self-control returned. When she was mistress
+of herself again, she forced a smile and her tense
+hand relaxed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know,&#8221; she said, &#8220;it is most annoying to have
+my little love-letter to you intercepted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But his features remained very serious:</p>
+<p>&#8220;When did you mail that letter to me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yesterday evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;From where?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;From a hotel.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He considered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ought to have had it this morning, Thessa. But
+the mails, lately, have been very irregular. There have
+been other delays. This is probably an example.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;At latest,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you should have my letter
+this evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes. But the evening is young yet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a moment she drew a light sigh of relief, or
+perhaps of apprehension, he was not quite sure which.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But about this other matter&mdash;men following and
+annoying you,&#8221; he began.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not now, Garry. I can&#8217;t talk about it now. Wait
+until we are sure about my letter&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Thessa&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please! If you don&#8217;t receive it before I leave, I
+shall come to you again and ask your aid and advice&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you come <i>here</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Now take me in.... Because I am not
+quite certain about your maid&mdash;and perhaps one other
+person&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>His expression of astonishment checked her for a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span>
+moment, then the old irresistible laughter rang out
+sweetly in the moonlight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Garry! It is funny, isn&#8217;t it!&mdash;to be dogged
+and hunted day and night by a pack of shadows? If
+I only knew who casts them!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She took his arm gaily, with that little, courageous
+lifting of the head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Allons! We shall dance again and defy the devil!
+And you may send your servant down to see whether
+my letter has arrived&mdash;not that maid with slanting
+eyes!&mdash;I have no confidence in her&mdash;but your marvellous
+major-domo, Garry&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her smile was bright and untroubled as she stepped
+back into the studio, leaning on his arm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear boy,&#8221; she whispered, with the irresponsible
+undertone of laughter ringing in her voice, &#8220;thank
+you for bothering with my woes. I&#8217;ll be rid of them
+soon, I hope, and then&mdash;perhaps&mdash;I&#8217;ll lead you another
+dance along the moonlit way!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>On the roof, close to the chimney, the one-eyed man
+and Soane peered down into the studio through the
+smeared ventilator.</p>
+<p>In the studio Dulcie&#8217;s first party was drawing to an
+early but jolly end.</p>
+<p>She had danced a dozen times with Barres, and her
+heart was full of sheerest happiness&mdash;the unreasoning
+bliss which asks no questions, is endowed with
+neither reason nor vision&mdash;the matchless delight which
+fills the candid, unquestioning heart of Youth.</p>
+<p>Nothing had marred her party for her, not even the
+importunity of Esmé Trenor, which she had calmly
+disregarded as of no interest to her.</p>
+<p>True, for a few moments, while Barres and Thessalie
+were on the balcony outside, Dulcie had become
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span>
+a trifle subdued. But the wistful glances she kept
+casting toward the long window were free from meaner
+taint; neither jealousy nor envy had ever found lodging
+in the girl&#8217;s mind or heart. There was no room
+to let them in now.</p>
+<p>Also, she was kept busy enough, one man after another
+claiming her for a dance. And she adored it&mdash;even
+with Trenor, who danced extremely well when
+he took the trouble. And he was taking it now with
+Dulcie; taking a different tone with her, too. For if
+it <i>were</i> true, as some said, that Esmé Trenor was three-quarters
+charlatan, he was no fool. And Dulcie began
+to find him entertaining to the point of a smile or
+two, as her spontaneous tribute to Esmé&#8217;s efforts.</p>
+<p>That languid apostle said afterward to Mandel,
+where they were lounging over the piano:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Little devil! She&#8217;s got a mind of her own, and
+she knows it. I&#8217;ve had to make efforts, Corot!&mdash;efforts,
+if you please, to attract her mere attention. I&#8217;m
+exhausted!&mdash;never before had to make any efforts&mdash;never
+in my life!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mandel&#8217;s heavy-lidded eyes of a big bird rested on
+Dulcie, where she was seated. Her gaze was lifted to
+Barres, who bent over her in jesting conversation.</p>
+<p>Mandel, watching her, said to Esmé:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m always ready to <i>train</i>&mdash;that sort of girl; always
+on the lookout for them. One discovers a specimen
+once or twice in a decade.... Two or three in a
+lifetime: that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Train them?&#8221; repeated Esmé, with an indolent
+smile. &#8220;Break them, you mean, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. The breaking, however, is usually mutual.
+However, that girl could go far under my direction.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she could go as far as hell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean artistically,&#8221; remarked Mandel, undisturbed.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;As what, for example?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As anything. After all, I <i>have</i> flaire, even if it
+failed me this time. But <i>now</i> I see. It&#8217;s there, in her&mdash;what
+I&#8217;m always searching for.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What may that be, dear friend?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What Westmore calls &#8216;the goods.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And just what are they in her case?&#8221; inquired
+Esmé, persistent as a stinging gnat around a pachyderm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know&mdash;a voice, maybe; maybe the dramatic
+instinct&mdash;genius as a dancer&mdash;who knows? All that is
+necessary is to discover it&mdash;whatever it may be&mdash;and
+then direct it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Too late, O philanthropic Pasha!&#8221; remarked Esmé
+with a slight sneer. &#8220;I&#8217;d be very glad to paint her,
+too, and become good friends with her&mdash;so would many
+an honest man, now that she&#8217;s been discovered&mdash;but
+our friend Barres, yonder, isn&#8217;t likely to encourage
+either you or me. So&#8221;&mdash;he shrugged, but his languid
+gaze remained on Dulcie&mdash;&#8220;so you and I had better
+kiss all hope good-bye and toddle home.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Westmore and Thessalie still danced together; Mrs.
+Helmund and Damaris were trying new steps in new
+dances, much interested, indulging in much merriment.
+Barres watched them casually, as he conversed with
+Dulcie, who, deep in an armchair, never took her eyes
+from his smiling face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, Sweetness,&#8221; he was saying, &#8220;it&#8217;s early yet, I
+know, but your party ought to end, because you are
+coming to sit for me in the morning, and you and I
+ought to get plenty of sleep. If we don&#8217;t, I shall have
+an unsteady hand, and you a pair of sleepy eyes.
+Come on, ducky!&#8221; He glanced across at the clock:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s very early yet, I know,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;but you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span>
+and I have had rather a long day of it. And it&#8217;s been
+a very happy one, hasn&#8217;t it, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>As she smiled, the youthful soul of her itself seemed
+to be gazing up at him out of her enraptured eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; he said, with deepest satisfaction. &#8220;Now,
+you&#8217;ll put your hand on my arm and we&#8217;ll go around
+and say good-night to everybody, and then I&#8217;ll take
+you down stairs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So she rose and placed her hand lightly on his arm,
+and together they made her adieux to everybody, and
+everybody was cordially demonstrative in thanking her
+for her party.</p>
+<p>So he took her down stairs to her apartment, off
+the hall, noticing that neither Soane nor Miss Kurtz
+was on duty at the desk, as they passed, and that a
+pile of undistributed mail lay on the desk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s rotten,&#8221; he said curtly. &#8220;Will you have to
+change your clothes, sort this mail, and sit here until
+the last mail is delivered?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I wanted you to go to sleep. Where is Miss
+Kurtz?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is her evening off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then your father ought to be here,&#8221; he said, irritated,
+looking around the big, empty hallway.</p>
+<p>But Dulcie only smiled and held out her slim hand:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t sleep, anyway. I had really much rather
+sit here for a while and dream it all over again. Good-night....
+Thank you&mdash;I can&#8217;t say what I feel&mdash;but
+m-my heart is very faithful to you, Mr. Barres&mdash;will
+always be&mdash;while I am alive ... because you are my
+first friend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He stooped impulsively and touched her hair with
+his lips:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear child,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I <i>am</i> your friend.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div>
+<p>Halfway up the western staircase he called back:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ring me up, Dulcie, when the last mail comes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will,&#8221; she nodded, almost blindly.</p>
+<p>Out of her lovely, abashed eyes she watched him
+mount the stairs, her cheeks a riot of surging colour.
+It was some few minutes after he was gone that she
+recollected herself, turned, and, slowly traversing the
+east corridor, entered her bedroom.</p>
+<p>Standing there in darkness, vaguely silvered by reflected
+moonlight, she heard through her door ajar the
+guests of the evening descending the western staircase;
+heard their gay adieux exchanged, distinguished Esmé&#8217;s
+impudent drawl, Westmore&#8217;s lively accents, Mandel&#8217;s
+voice, the easy laughter of Damaris, the smooth, affected
+tones of Mrs. Helmund.</p>
+<p>But Dulcie listened in vain for the voice which had
+haunted her ears since she had left the studio&mdash;the
+lovely voice of Thessalie Dunois.</p>
+<p>If this radiant young creature also had departed
+with the other guests, she had gone away in silence....
+<i>Had</i> she departed? Or was she still lingering
+upstairs in the studio for a little chat with the most
+wonderful man in the world?... A very, very beautiful
+girl.... And the most wonderful man in the
+world. Why should they not linger for a little chat
+together after the others had departed?</p>
+<p>Dulcie sighed lightly, pensively, as one whose happiness
+lies in the happiness of others. To be a witness
+seemed enough for her.</p>
+<p>For a little while longer she remained standing there
+in the silvery dusk, quite motionless, thinking of Barres.</p>
+<p>The Prophet lay asleep, curled up on her bed; her
+alarm clock ticked noisily in the darkness, as though
+to mimic the loud, fast rhythm of her heart.</p>
+<p>At last, and as in a dream, she groped for a match,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span>
+lighted the gas jet, and began to disrobe. Slowly,
+dreamily, she put from her slender body the magic
+garments of light&mdash;<i>his</i> gift to her.</p>
+<p>But under these magic garments, clothing her newborn
+soul, remained the radiant rainbow robe of that
+new dawn into which this man had led her spirit. Did
+it matter, then, what dingy, outworn clothing covered
+her, outside?</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Clad once more in her shabby, familiar clothes, and
+bedroom slippers, Dulcie opened the door of her dim
+room, and crept out into the whitewashed hall, moving
+as in a trance. And at her heels stalked the Prophet,
+softly, like a lithe shape that glides through dreams.</p>
+<p>Awaiting the last mail, seated behind the desk on the
+worn leather chair, she dropped her linked fingers into
+her lap, and gazed straight into an invisible world peopled
+with enchanting phantoms. And, little by little,
+they began to crowd her vision, throng all about
+her, laughing, rosy wraiths floating, drifting, whirling
+in an endless dance. Everywhere they were invading
+the big, silent hall, where the candle&#8217;s grotesque shadows
+wavered across whitewashed wall and ceiling.
+Drowsily, now, she watched them play and sway around
+her. Her head drooped; she opened her eyes.</p>
+<p>The Prophet sat there, staring back at her out of
+depthless orbs of jade, in which all the wisdom and
+mysteries of the centuries seemed condensed and concentrated
+into a pair of living sparks.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span>
+<a name='XII_THE_LAST_MAIL' id='XII_THE_LAST_MAIL'></a>
+<h2>XII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE LAST MAIL</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The last mail had not yet arrived at Dragon
+Court.</p>
+<p>Five people awaited it&mdash;Dulcie Soane, behind
+the desk in the entrance hall, already wandering drowsily
+with Barres along the fairy borderland of sleep;
+Thessalie Dunois in Barres&#8217; studio, her rose-coloured
+evening cloak over her shoulders, her slippered foot
+tapping the dance-scarred parquet; Barres opposite,
+deep in his favourite armchair, chatting with her;
+Soane on the roof, half stupid with drink, watching
+them through the ventilator; and, lurking in the moonlit
+court, outside the office window, the dimly sinister
+figure of the one-eyed man. He wore a white handkerchief
+over his face, with a single hole cut in it.
+Through this hole his solitary optic was now fixed upon
+the back of Dulcie&#8217;s drowsy head.</p>
+<p>As for the Prophet, perched on the desk top, he continued
+to gaze upon shapes invisible to all things mortal
+save only such as he.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>The postman&#8217;s lively whistle aroused Dulcie. The
+Prophet, knowing him, observed his advent with indifference.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, girlie,&#8221; he said;&mdash;he was a fresh-faced and
+flippant young man. &#8220;Where&#8217;s Pop?&#8221; he added, depositing
+a loose sheaf of letters on the desk before her
+and sketching in a few jig steps with his feet.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; she murmured, patting with one
+slim hand her pink and yawning lips, and watching him
+unlock the post-box and collect the outgoing mail.
+He lingered a moment to caress the Prophet, who endured
+it without gratitude.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You better go to bed if you want to grow up to be
+a big, sassy girl some day,&#8221; he advised Dulcie. &#8220;And
+hurry up about it, too, because I&#8217;m going to marry
+you if you behave.&#8221; And, with a last affable caress
+for the Prophet, the young man went his way, singing
+to himself, and slamming the iron grille smartly behind
+him.</p>
+<p>Dulcie, rising from her chair, sorted the mail, sleepily
+tucking each letter and parcel into its proper
+pigeon-hole. There was a thick letter for Barres.
+This she held in her left hand, remembering his request
+that she call him up when the last mail arrived.</p>
+<p>This she now prepared to do&mdash;had already reseated
+herself, her right hand extended toward the telephone,
+when a shadow fell across the desk, and the Prophet
+turned, snarled, struck, and fled.</p>
+<p>At the same instant grimy fingers snatched at the
+letter which she still held in her left hand, twisted it
+almost free of her desperate clutch, tore it clean in
+two at one violent jerk, leaving her with half the letter
+still gripped in her clenched fist.</p>
+<p>She had not uttered a sound during the second&#8217;s
+struggle. But instantly an ungovernable rage blazed
+up in her at the outrage, and she leaped clean over the
+desk and sprang at the throat of the one-eyed man.</p>
+<p>His neck was bony and muscular; she could not compass
+it with her slender hands, but she struck at it
+furiously, driving a sound out of his throat, half roar,
+half cough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give me my letter!&#8221; she breathed. &#8220;I&#8217;ll kill you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span>
+if you don&#8217;t!&#8221; Her furious little hands caught his
+clenched fist, where the torn letter protruded, and she
+tore at it and beat upon it, her teeth set and her grey
+Irish eyes afire.</p>
+<p>Twice the one-eyed man flung her to her knees on
+the pavement, but she was up again and clinging to
+him before he could tear free of her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My letter!&#8221; she gasped. &#8220;I shall kill you, I tell
+you&mdash;unless you return it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>His solitary yellow eye began to glare and glitter
+as he wrenched and dragged at her wrists and arms
+about him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Schweinstück!&#8221; he panted. &#8220;Let los, mioche de
+malheur! Eh! Los!&mdash;or I strike! No? Also! Attrape!&mdash;sale
+gallopin!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>His blow knocked her reeling across the hall.
+Against the whitewashed wall she collapsed to her
+knees, got up half stunned, the clang of the outer grille
+ringing in her very brain.</p>
+<p>With dazed eyes she gazed at the remnants of the
+torn letter, still crushed in her rigid fingers. Bright
+drops of blood from her mouth dripped slowly to the
+tessellated pavement.</p>
+<p>Reeling still from the shock of the blow, she managed
+to reach the outer door, and stood swaying there,
+striving to pierce with confused eyes the lamplit darkness
+of the street. There was no sign of the one-eyed
+man. Then she turned and made her way back to
+the desk, supporting herself with a hand along the wall.</p>
+<p>Waiting a few moments to control her breathing and
+her shaky limbs, she contrived finally to detach the
+receiver and call Barres. Over the wire she could hear
+the gramophone playing again in the studio.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please may I come up?&#8221; she whispered.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Has the last mail come? Is there a letter for
+me?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes ... I&#8217;ll bring you w-what there is&mdash;if you&#8217;ll
+let me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks, Sweetness! Come right up!&#8221; And she
+heard him say: &#8220;It&#8217;s probably your letter, Thessa.
+Dulcie is bringing it up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her limbs and body were still quivering, and she
+felt very weak and tearful as she climbed the stairway
+to the corridor above.</p>
+<p>The nearer door of his apartment was open.
+Through it the music of the gramophone came gaily;
+and she went toward it and entered the brilliantly illuminated
+studio.</p>
+<p>Soane, who still lay flat on the roof overhead, peeping
+through the ventilator, saw her enter, all dishevelled,
+grasping in one hand the fragments of a letter.
+And the sight instantly sobered him. He tucked
+his shoes under one arm, got to his stockinged feet,
+made nimbly for the scuttle, and from there, descending
+by the service stair, ran through the courtyard into
+the empty hall.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be gorry,&#8221; he muttered, &#8220;thot dommed Dootchman
+has done it now!&#8221; And he pulled on his shoes, crammed
+his hat over his ears, and started east, on a run, for
+Grogan&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>Grogan&#8217;s was still the name of the Third Avenue
+saloon, though Grogan had been dead some years, and
+one Franz Lehr now presided within that palace of
+cherrywood, brass and pretzels.</p>
+<p>Into the family entrance fled Soane, down a dim
+hallway past several doors, from behind which sounded
+voices joining in guttural song; and came into a rear
+room.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></div>
+<p>The one-eyed man sat there at a small table, piecing
+together fragments of a letter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Arrah, then,&#8221; cried Soane, &#8220;phwat th&#8217; devil did
+ye do, Max?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man barely glanced at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vy iss it,&#8221; he enquired tranquilly, &#8220;you don&#8217;d vatch
+Nihla Quellen by dot wentilator some more?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I axe ye,&#8221; shouted Soane, &#8220;what t&#8217;hell ye done to
+Dulcie!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vat I haff done already yet?&#8221; queried the one-eyed
+man, not looking up, and continuing to piece together
+the torn letter. &#8220;Vell, I tell you, Soane; dot
+kid she keep dot letter in her handt, und I haff to grab
+it. Sacré saligaud de malheur! Dot letter she tear
+herself in two. Pas de chance! Your kid she iss mad
+like tigers! Voici&mdash;all zat rests me de la sacré-nom-de
+sacrèminton de lettre&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, shut up, y&#8217;r Dootch head-cheese!&mdash;wid y&#8217;r gillipin&#8217;
+gallopin&#8217; gabble!&#8221; cut in Soane wrathfully.
+&#8220;D&#8217;ye mind phwat ye done? It&#8217;s not petty larceny, ye
+omadhoun!&mdash;it&#8217;s highway robbery ye done&mdash;bad cess
+to ye!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The one-eyed man shrugged:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pourtant, I must haff dot letter&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he observed,
+undisturbed by Soane&#8217;s anger; but Soane cut him short
+again fiercely:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You an&#8217; y&#8217;r dommed letter! Phwat do you care
+if I&#8217;m fired f&#8217;r this night&#8217;s wurruk? Y&#8217;r letter, is it?
+An&#8217; what about highway robbery, me bucko! An&#8217; me
+off me post! How&#8217;ll I be explaining that? Ah, ye
+sicken me entirely, ye Dootch square-head! Now,
+phwat&#8217;ll I say to them? Tell me that, Max Freund!
+Phwat&#8217;ll I tell th&#8217; aygent whin he comes runnin&#8217;?
+Phwat&#8217;ll I tell th&#8217; po-lice? Arrah, phwat&#8217;t&#8217;hell do you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span>
+care, anyway?&#8221; he shouted. &#8220;I&#8217;ve a mind f&#8217;r to knock
+the block off ye&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You shall say to dot agent you haff gone out to
+smell,&#8221; remarked Max Freund placidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Smell, is it? Smell what, ye dom&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You smell some smoke. You haff fear of fire. You
+go out to see. Das iss so simble, ach! Take shame,
+you Irish Sinn Fein! You behave like rabbits!&#8221; He
+pointed to his arrangement of the torn letter on the
+table: &#8220;Here iss sufficient already&mdash;regardez! Look
+once!&#8221; He laid one long, soiled and bony finger on
+the fragments: &#8220;Read it vat iss written!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan, now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tell you, read!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane, still cursing under his breath, bent over the
+table, reading as Freund&#8217;s soiled finger moved:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fein plots,&#8221; he read. &#8220;German agents ... disloyal
+propa ... explo ... bomb fac ... shipping
+munitions to ... arms for Ireland can be ... destruction
+of interned German li ... disloyal newspapers
+which ... controlled by us in Pari ... Ferez
+Bey ... bankers are duped.... I need your advi
+... hounded day and ni ... d&#8217;Eblis or Govern ...
+not afraid of death but indignant ... Sinn Fei&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane&#8217;s scowl had altered, and a deeper red stained
+his brow and neck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, by God!&#8221; he muttered, jerking up a chair
+from behind him and seating himself at the table, but
+never taking his fascinated eyes off the torn bits of
+written paper.</p>
+<p>Presently Freund got up and went out. He returned
+in a few moments with a large sheet of wrapping
+paper and a pot of mucilage. On this paper, with
+great care, he arranged the pieces of the torn letter,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span>
+neatly gumming each bit and leaving a space between
+it and the next fragment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To fill in iss the job of Louis Sendelbeck,&#8221; remarked
+Freund, pasting away industriously. &#8220;Is it
+not time we learn how much she knows&mdash;this Nihla
+Quellen? Iss she sly like mice? I ask it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane scratched his curly head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be gorry,&#8221; he said, &#8220;av that purty girrl is a Frinch
+spy she don&#8217;t look the parrt, Max.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Freund waved one unclean hand:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vas iss it to look like somedings? Nodding! Also,
+you Sinn Fein Irish talk too much. Why iss it in Belfast
+you march mit drums und music? To hold our
+tongues und vatch vat iss we Germans learn already
+first! Also! Sendelbeck shall haff his letter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; phwat d&#8217;ye mean to do with that girrl, Max?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vatch her! Vy you don&#8217;d go back by dot wentilator
+already?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me? Faith, I&#8217;m done f&#8217;r th&#8217; evenin&#8217;, an&#8217; I thank
+God I wasn&#8217;t pinched on the leads!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vait I catch dot Nihla somevares,&#8221; muttered
+Freund, regarding his handiwork.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye&#8217;ll do no dirty thrick to her? Th&#8217; Sinn Fein will
+shtand f&#8217;r no burkin&#8217;, mind that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ach, wass!&#8221; grunted Freund; &#8220;iss it your business
+vat iss done to somebody by Ferez? If you Irish
+vant your rifles und machine guns, leaf it to us Germans
+und dond speak nonsense aboud nodding!&#8221; He
+leaned over and pushed a greasy electric button:
+&#8220;Now ve drink a glass bier. Und after, you go home
+und vatch dot girl some more.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Av Misther Barres an&#8217; th&#8217; yoong lady makes a holler,
+they&#8217;ll fire me f&#8217;r this,&#8221; snarled Soane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sei ruhig, mon vieux! Nihla Quellen keeps like a
+mouse quiet! Und she keeps dot yoong man quiet!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
+You see! No, no! Not for Nihla to make some foolishness
+und publicity. French agents iss vatching for
+her too&mdash;l&#8217;affaire du <i>Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>. She iss vat you
+say, &#8216;in Dutch&#8217;! Iss she, vielleicht, a German spy?
+In France they believe it. Iss she a French spy? Ach!
+Possibly some day; not yet! And it iss for us Germans
+to know always vat she iss about. Dot iss my affair,
+not yours, Soane.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A heavy jowled man in a soiled apron brought two
+big mugs of beer and retired on felt-slippered feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hoch!&#8221; grunted Freund, burying his nose in his
+frothing mug.</p>
+<p>Soane, wasting no words, drank thirstily. After a
+long pull he shoved aside his sloppy stein, rose, cautiously
+unlatched the shutter of a tiny peep-hole in the
+wall, and applied one eye to it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bad luck!&#8221; he muttered, &#8220;there do be wan av thim
+secret service lads drinkin&#8217; at the bar! I&#8217;ll not go
+home yet, Max.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dot big vone?&#8221; inquired Freund, mildly interested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the buck! Him wid th&#8217; phony whiskers an&#8217;
+th&#8217; Dootch get-up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vell, vot off it? Can he do somedings?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And how should I know phwat that lad can do to
+th&#8217; likes o&#8217; me, or phwat the divil brings him here at
+all, at all! Sure, he&#8217;s been around these three nights
+running&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Freund laughed his contempt for all things American,
+including police and secret service, and wiped his
+chin with the back of his hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look, once, Soane! Do these Yankees know vat
+it iss a police, a gendarme, a military intelligence?
+Vat they call secret service, wass iss it? I ask it?
+Schweinerei! Dummheit? Fantoches! Imbeciles! Of
+the Treasury they haff a secret service; of the Justice
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span>
+Department also another; and another of the
+Army, and yet another of the Posts! Vot kind of
+foolish system iss it?&mdash;mitout no minister, no chef, no
+centre, no head, no organisation&mdash;und everybody interfering
+in vot efferybody iss doing und nobody knowing
+vot nobody is doing&mdash;ach wass! Je m&#8217;en moque&mdash;I
+make mock myself at dot secret service which iss too
+dam dumm!&#8221; He yawned. &#8220;Trop bête,&#8221; he added indistinctly.</p>
+<p>Soane, reassured, lowered the shutter, came back to
+the table, and finished his beer with loud gulps.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lave us go up to the lodge till he goes out,&#8221; he
+suggested. &#8220;Maybe th&#8217; boys have news o&#8217; thim rifles.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Freund yawned again, nodded, and rose, and they
+went out to an unlighted and ill-smelling back stairway.
+It was so narrow that they had to ascend in
+single file.</p>
+<p>Half way up they set off a hidden bell, by treading
+on some concealed button under foot; and a man,
+dressed only in undershirt and trousers, appeared at
+the top of the stairs, silhouetted against a bright light
+burning on the wall behind him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, all right,&#8221; he said, recognising them, and turned
+on his heel carelessly, pocketing a black-jack.</p>
+<p>They followed to a closed door, which was made
+out of iron and painted like quartered oak. In the wall
+on their right a small shutter slid back noiselessly, then
+was closed without a sound; and the iron door opened
+very gently in their faces.</p>
+<p>The room they entered was stifling&mdash;all windows being
+closed&mdash;in spite of a pair of electric fans whirling
+and droning on shelves. Some perspiring Germans were
+playing skat over in a corner. One or two other men
+lounged about a centre table, reading Irish and German
+newspapers published in New York, Chicago, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span>
+Milwaukee. There were also on file there copies of the
+<i>Evening Mail</i>, the <i>Evening Post</i>, a Chicago paper, and
+a pile of magazines, including numbers of <i>Pearson&#8217;s</i>,
+<i>The Fatherland</i>, <i>The Masses</i>, and similar publications.</p>
+<p>Two lithograph portraits hung side by side over
+the fireplace&mdash;Robert Emmet and Kaiser Wilhelm II.
+Otherwise, the art gallery included photographs of Von
+Hindenburg, Von Bissing, and the King of Greece.</p>
+<p>A large map, on which the battle-line in Europe had
+been pricked out in red pins, hung on the wall. Also
+a map of New York City, on a very large scale; another
+map of New York State; and a map of Ireland. A
+dumb-waiter, on duty and astonishingly noiseless, slid
+into sight, carrying half a dozen steins of beer and
+some cheese sandwiches, just as Soane and Freund entered
+the room, and the silent iron door closed behind
+them of its own accord and without any audible click.</p>
+<p>The man who had met them on the stairs, in undershirt
+and trousers, went over to the dumb-waiter, scribbled
+something on a slate which hung inside the shelf,
+set the beer and sandwiches beside the skat players,
+and returned to seat himself at the table to which
+Freund and Soane had pulled up cane-bottomed chairs.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he said, in rather a pleasant voice, &#8220;did you
+get that letter, Max?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Freund nodded and leisurely sketched in the episode
+at Dragon Court.</p>
+<p>The man, whose name was Franz Lehr, and who had
+been born in New York of German parents, listened
+with lively interest to the narrative. But he whistled
+softly when it ended:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You took a few chances, Max,&#8221; he remarked. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+all right, of course, because you got away with it,
+but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He whistled again, thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sendelbeck must haff his letter. Yess? Also!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. I guess that was the only way&mdash;if she
+was really going to take it up to young Barres. And
+I guess you&#8217;re right when you conclude that Nihla
+won&#8217;t make any noise about it and won&#8217;t let her friend,
+Barres, either.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, I&#8217;m right,&#8221; grunted Freund. &#8220;We got the
+goots on her now. You bet she&#8217;s scared. You tell
+Ferez&mdash;yess?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry; he&#8217;ll hear it all. You got that letter
+on you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Freund nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hand it to Hochstein&#8221;&mdash;he half turned on his rickety
+chair and addressed a squat, bushy-haired man
+with very black eyebrows and large, angry blue eyes&mdash;&#8220;Louis,
+Max got that letter you saw Nihla writing in
+the Hotel Astor. Here it is&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; taking the pasted
+fragments from Freund and passing them over to
+Hochstein. &#8220;Give it to Sendelbeck, along with the
+blotter you swiped after she left the writing room.
+Dave Sendelbeck ought to fix it up all right for Ferez
+Bey.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hochstein nodded, shoved the folded brown paper
+into his pocket, and resumed his cards.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is thim rifles&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; began Soane; but Lehr laid a
+hand on his shoulder:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, listen! They&#8217;re on the way to Ireland now.
+I told you that. When I hear they&#8217;re landed I&#8217;ll let
+you know. You Sinn Feiners don&#8217;t understand how to
+wait. If things don&#8217;t happen the way you want and
+when you want, you all go up in the air!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; how manny hundred years would ye have us
+wait f&#8217;r to free th&#8217; ould sod!&#8221; retorted Soane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll not free it with your mouth,&#8221; retorted Lehr.
+&#8220;No, nor by drilling with banners and arms in Cork
+and Belfast, and parading all over the place!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Is&mdash;that&mdash;so!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet it&#8217;s so! The way to make England sick is
+to stick her in the back, not make faces at her across the
+Irish Channel. If your friends in the Clan-na-Gael,
+and your poets and professors who call themselves
+Sinn Feiners, will quit their childish circus playing and
+trust us, we&#8217;ll show you how to make the Lion yowl.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, bombs an&#8217; fires an&#8217; shtrikes is all right, too.
+An&#8217; proppygandy is fine as far as it goes. But the
+Clan-na-Gael is all afire f&#8217;r to start the shindy in Ireland&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You start it,&#8221; interrupted Lehr, &#8220;before you&#8217;re
+really ready, and you&#8217;ll see where it lands the Clan-na-Gael
+and the Sinn Fein! I tell you to leave it to
+Berlin!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; I tell ye lave it to the Clan-na-Gael!&#8221; retorted
+Soane, excitedly. &#8220;Musha&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For why you yell?&#8221; yawned Freund, displaying a
+very yellow fang. &#8220;Dot big secret service slob, he iss
+in the bar hinunter. Perhaps he hear you if like a
+pig you push forth cries.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lehr raised his eyebrows; then, carelessly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s only a State agent. Johnny Klein is keeping
+an eye on him. What does that big piece of cheese expect
+to get by hanging out in my bar?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Freund yawned again, appallingly; Soane said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder is that purty Frinch girrl agin us Irish?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What does she care about the Irish?&#8221; replied Lehr.
+&#8220;Her danger to us lies in the fact that she may blab
+about Ferez to some Frenchman, and that he may believe
+her in spite of all the proof they have in Paris
+against her. Max,&#8221; he added, turning to Freund, &#8220;it&#8217;s
+funny that Ferez doesn&#8217;t do something to her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haff no orders.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you&#8217;ll get &#8217;em when Ferez reads that letter.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span>
+He&#8217;s certainly not going to let that girl go about blabbing
+and writing letters&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane struck the table with doubled fist:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ye&#8217;ll do no vi&#8217;lence to anny wan!&#8221; he cut in. &#8220;The
+Sinn Fein will shtand for no dirrty wurruk in America!
+Av you set fires an&#8217; blow up plants, an&#8217; kidnap
+ladies, an&#8217; do murther, g&#8217;wan, ye Dootch scuts!&mdash;it&#8217;s
+your business, God help us!&mdash;not ours.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All we axe of ye is machine-goons, an&#8217; rifles, an&#8217;
+ships to land them; an&#8217; av ye don&#8217;t like it, phway th&#8217;
+divil d&#8217;ye come botherin&#8217; th&#8217; likes of us Irish wid y&#8217;r
+proppygandy! Sorra the day,&#8221; he added, &#8220;I tuk up
+wid anny Dootchman at all at all&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lehr and Freund exchanged expressionless glances.
+The former dropped a propitiating hand on Soane&#8217;s
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can it,&#8221; he said good-humouredly. &#8220;We&#8217;re trying
+to help you Irish to what you want. You want Irish
+independence, don&#8217;t you? All right. We&#8217;re going to
+help you get it&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>A bell rang; Lehr sprang to his feet and hastened
+out through the iron door, drawing his black-jack from
+his hip pocket as he went.</p>
+<p>He returned in a few moments, followed by a very
+good-looking but pallid man in rather careless evening
+dress, who had the dark eyes of a dreamer and the
+delicate features of a youthful acolyte.</p>
+<p>He saluted the company with a peculiarly graceful
+gesture, which recognition even the gross creatures at
+the skat table returned with visible respect.</p>
+<p>Soane, always deeply impressed by the presence of
+Murtagh Skeel, offered his chair and drew another one
+to the table.</p>
+<p>Skeel accepted with a gently preoccupied smile, and
+seated himself gracefully. All that is chivalrous, romantic,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span>
+courteous, and brave in an Irishman seemed to
+be visibly embodied in this pale man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have just come,&#8221; he said, &#8220;from a dinner at Sherry&#8217;s.
+A common hatred of England brought together
+the dozen odd men with whom I have been in conference.
+Ferez Bey was there, the military attachés of
+the German, Austrian, and Turkish embassies, one or
+two bankers, officials of certain steamship lines, and a
+United States senator.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He sipped a glass of plain water which Lehr had
+brought him, thanked him, then turning from Soane
+to Lehr:</p>
+<p>&#8220;To get arms and munitions into Ireland in substantial
+quantities requires something besides the U-boats
+which Germany seems willing to offer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was fully discussed to-night. Not that I
+have any doubt at all that Sir Roger will do his part
+skilfully and fearlessly&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He will that!&#8221; exclaimed Soane, &#8220;God bless him!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Amen, Soane,&#8221; said Murtagh Skeel, with a wistful
+and involuntary upward glance from his dark eyes.
+Then he laid his hand of an aristocrat on Soane&#8217;s
+shoulder. &#8220;What I came here to tell you is this: I
+want a ship&#8217;s crew.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorr?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want a crew ready to mutiny at a signal from me
+and take over their own ship on the high seas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Their own ship, sorr?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Their own ship. That is what has been decided.
+The ship to be selected will be a fast steamer loaded
+with arms and munitions for the British Government.
+The Sinn Fein and the Clan-na-Gael, between them, are
+to assemble the crew. I shall be one of that crew.
+Through powerful friends, enemies to England, it will
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span>
+be made possible to sign such a crew and put it aboard
+the steamer to be seized.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Her officers will, of course, be British. And I
+am afraid there may be a gun crew aboard. But that
+is nothing. We shall take her over when the time
+comes&mdash;probably off the Irish coast at night. Now,
+Soane, and you, Lehr, I want you to help recruit a
+picked crew, all Irish, all Sinn Feiners or members of
+the Clan-na-Gael.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know the sort. Absolutely reliable, fearless,
+and skilled men devoted soul and body to the cause for
+which we all would so cheerfully die.... Will you
+do it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Soane moistened his lips reflectively.
+Lehr, intelligent, profoundly interested,
+kept his keen, pleasant eyes on Murtagh Skeel. Only
+the droning electric fans, the rattle of a newspaper, the
+slap of greasy cards at the skat table, the slobbering
+gulp of some Teuton, guzzling beer, interrupted the
+sweltering quiet of the room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Misther Murtagh, sorr,&#8221; said Soane with a light,
+careless laugh, &#8220;I&#8217;ve wan recruit f&#8217;r to bring ye.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, it&#8217;s meself, sorr&mdash;av ye&#8217;ll sign the likes o&#8217;
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks; of course,&#8221; said Skeel, with one of his
+rare smiles, and taking Soane&#8217;s hand in comradeship.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go,&#8221; said Lehr, coolly; &#8220;but my name won&#8217;t do.
+Call me Grogan, if you like, and I&#8217;ll sign with you,
+Mr. Skeel.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Skeel pressed the offered hand:</p>
+<p>&#8220;A splendid beginning,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I wanted you
+both. Now, see what you can do in the Sinn Fein
+and Clan-na-Gael for a crew which, please God, we
+shall require very soon!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+<a name='XIII_A_MIDNIGHT_TTETTE' id='XIII_A_MIDNIGHT_TTETTE'></a>
+<h2>XIII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />A MIDNIGHT TÊTE-À-TÊTE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>When Dulcie had entered the studio that evening,
+her white face smeared with blood and
+a torn letter clutched in her hand, the gramophone
+was playing a lively two-step, and Barres and
+Thessalie Dunois were dancing there in the big, brilliantly
+lighted studio, all by themselves.</p>
+<p>Thessalie caught sight of Dulcie over Barres&#8217;s shoulder,
+hastily slipped out of his arms, and hurried across
+the polished floor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is the matter?&#8221; she asked breathlessly, a fearful
+intuition already enlightening her as her startled
+glance travelled from the blood on Dulcie&#8217;s face to the
+torn fragments of paper in her rigidly doubled fingers.</p>
+<p>Barres, coming up at the same moment, slipped a
+firm arm around Dulcie&#8217;s shoulders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you badly hurt, dear? What has happened?&#8221;
+he asked very quietly.</p>
+<p>She looked up at him, mute, her bruised mouth quivering,
+and held out the remains of the letter. And
+Thessalie Dunois caught her breath sharply as her eyes
+fell on the bits of paper covered with her own handwriting.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was a man hiding in the court,&#8221; said Dulcie.
+&#8220;He wore a white cloth over his face and he came up
+behind me and tried to snatch your letter out of my
+hand; but I held fast and he only tore it in two.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div>
+<p>Barres stared at the sheaf of torn paper, lying crumpled
+up in his open hand, then his amazed gaze rested
+on Thessalie:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is this the letter you wrote to me?&#8221; he inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. May I have the remains of my letter?&#8221; she
+asked calmly.</p>
+<p>He handed over the bits of paper without a word,
+and she opened her gold-mesh bag and dropped them in.</p>
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s silence, then Barres said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did he strike you, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, when he thought he couldn&#8217;t get away from
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You hung on to him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tried to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie stepped closer, impulsively, and framed
+Dulcie&#8217;s pallid, blood-smeared face in both of her cool,
+white hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He has cut your lower lip inside,&#8221; she said. And,
+to Barres: &#8220;Could you get something to bathe it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres went away to his own room. When he returned
+with a finger-bowl full of warm water, some
+powdered boric acid, cotton, and a soft towel, Dulcie
+was lying deep in an armchair, her lids closed; and
+Thessalie sat beside her on one of the padded arms,
+smoothing the ruddy, curly hair from her forehead.</p>
+<p>She opened her eyes when Barres appeared, giving
+him a clear but inscrutable look. Thessalie gently
+washed the traces of battle from her face, then rinsed
+her lacerated mouth very tenderly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is just a little cut,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Your lip is a
+trifle swelled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is nothing,&#8221; murmured Dulcie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you feel all right?&#8221; inquired Barres anxiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I feel sleepy.&#8221; She sat erect, always with her grey
+eyes on Barres. &#8220;I think I will go to bed.&#8221; She stood
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span>
+up, conscious, now, of her shabby clothes and slippers;
+and there was a painful flush on her face as she thanked
+Thessalie and bade her a confused good-night.</p>
+<p>But Thessalie took the girl&#8217;s hand and retained it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please don&#8217;t say anything about what happened,&#8221;
+she said. &#8220;May I ask it of you as a very great favour?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie turned her eyes on Barres in silent appeal for
+guidance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mind not saying anything about this affair,&#8221;
+he asked, &#8220;as long as Miss Dunois wishes it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Should I not tell my father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not even to him,&#8221; replied Thessalie gently. &#8220;Because
+it won&#8217;t ever happen again. I am very certain
+of that. Will you trust my word?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again Dulcie looked at Barres, who nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I promise never to speak of it,&#8221; she said in a low,
+serious voice.</p>
+<p>Barres took her down stairs. At the desk she
+pointed out, at his request, the scene of recent action.
+Little by little he discovered, by questioning her, what
+a dogged battle she had fought there alone in the whitewashed
+corridor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why didn&#8217;t you call for help?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.... I didn&#8217;t think of it. And when
+he got away I was dizzy from the blow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At her bedroom door he took both her hands in his.
+The gas-jet was still burning in her room. On the
+bed lay her pretty evening dress.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad,&#8221; she remarked naïvely, &#8220;that I had on
+my old clothes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled, drew her to him, and lightly smoothed the
+thick, bright hair from her brow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I am becoming very fond
+of you, Dulcie. You&#8217;re such a splendid girl in every
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span>
+way.... We&#8217;ll always remain firm friends, won&#8217;t
+we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And in perplexity and trouble I want you to feel
+that you can always come to me. Because&mdash;you do
+like me, don&#8217;t you, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a moment or two she sustained his smiling,
+questioning gaze, then laid her cheek lightly against
+his hands, which still held both of hers imprisoned.
+And for one exquisite instant of spiritual surrender
+her grey eyes closed. Then she straightened herself
+up; he released her hands; she turned slowly and entered
+her room, closing the door very gently behind
+her.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>In the studio above, Thessalie, still wearing her rose-coloured
+cloak, sat awaiting him by the window.</p>
+<p>He crossed the studio, dropped onto the lounge beside
+her, and lighted a cigarette. Neither spoke for
+a few moments. Then he said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa, don&#8217;t you think you had better tell me
+something about this ugly business which seems to involve
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I shall not take the risk of dragging you
+in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who are these people who seem to be hounding
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t tell you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You trust me, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded, her face partly averted:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t that. And I had meant to tell you something
+concerning this matter&mdash;tell you just enough so
+that I might ask your advice. In fact, that is what
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span>
+I wrote you in that letter&mdash;being rather scared and
+desperate.... But half my letter to you has been
+stolen. The people who stole it are clever enough to
+piece it out and fill in what is missing&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She turned impulsively and took his hands between
+her own. Her face had grown quite white.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How much harm have I done to you, Garry? Have
+I already involved you by writing as much as I did
+write? I have been wondering.... I couldn&#8217;t bear
+to bring anything like that into your life&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything like what?&#8221; he asked bluntly. &#8220;Why
+don&#8217;t you tell me, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. It&#8217;s too complicated&mdash;too terrible. There are
+elements in it that would shock and disgust you....
+And perhaps you would not believe me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Government of a great European Power does
+not believe me to be honest!&#8221; she said very quietly.
+&#8220;Why should you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I know you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She smiled faintly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re such a dear,&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;But you
+talk like a boy. What do you really know about me?
+We have met just three times in our entire lives. Do
+any of those encounters really enlighten you? If you
+were a business man in a responsible position, could you
+honestly vouch for me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you credit me with common sense?&#8221; he insisted
+warmly.</p>
+<p>She laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Garry, dear, not with very much. Even I
+have more than you, and that is saying very little.
+We are inclined to be irresponsible, you and I&mdash;inclined
+to take the world lightly, inclined to laugh, inclined
+to tread the moonlit way! No, Garry, neither
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
+you nor I possess very much of that worldly caution
+born of hardened wisdom and sharpened wits.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She smiled almost tenderly at him and pressed his
+hands between her own.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I had been worldly wise,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I should
+never have danced my way to America through summer
+moonlight with you. If I had been wiser still, I
+should not now be an exile, my political guilt established,
+myself marked for destruction by a great European
+Power the instant I dare set foot on its soil.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I supposed your trouble to be political,&#8221; he nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it is.&#8221; She sighed, looked at him with a weary
+little smile. &#8220;But, Garry, I am not guilty of being
+what that nation believes me to be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am very sure of it,&#8221; he said gravely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you would be. You&#8217;d believe in me anyway,
+even with the terrible evidence against me.... I don&#8217;t
+suppose you&#8217;d think me guilty if I tell you that I am
+not&mdash;in spite of what they might say about me&mdash;might
+prove, apparently.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She withdrew her hands, clasped them, her gaze lost
+in retrospection for a few moments. Then, coming to
+herself with a gesture of infinite weariness:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is no use, Garry. I should never be believed.
+There are those who, base enough to entrap
+me, now are preparing to destroy me because they are
+cowardly enough to be afraid of me while I am alive.
+Yes, trapped, exiled, utterly discredited as I am to-day,
+they are still afraid of me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who are you, Thessa?&#8221; he asked, deeply disturbed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am what you first saw me&mdash;a dancer, Garry, and
+nothing worse.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It seems strange that a European Government
+should desire your destruction,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;If I really were what this Government believes me
+to be, it would not seem strange to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She sat thinking, worrying her under lip with delicate
+white teeth; then:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, do you believe that your country is going
+to be drawn into this war?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what to think,&#8221; he said bitterly. &#8220;The
+<i>Lusitania</i> ought to have meant war between us and
+Germany. Every brutal Teutonic disregard of decency
+since then ought to have meant war&mdash;every unarmed
+ship sunk by their U-boats, every outrage in
+America perpetrated by their spies and agents ought
+to have meant war. I don&#8217;t know how much more this
+Administration will force us to endure&mdash;what further
+flagrant insult Germany means to offer. They&#8217;ve answered
+the President&#8217;s last note by canning Von Tirpitz
+and promising, conditionally, to sink no more unarmed
+ships without warning. But they all are liars,
+the Huns. So that&#8217;s the way matters stand, Thessa,
+and I haven&#8217;t the slightest idea of what is going to happen
+to my humiliated country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why does not your country prepare?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;God knows why. Washington doesn&#8217;t believe in it,
+I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You should build ships,&#8221; she said. &#8220;You should
+prepare plans for calling out your young men.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He nodded indifferently:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was a preparedness parade. I marched in
+it. But it only irritated Washington. Now, finally,
+the latest Mexican insult is penetrating official stupidity,
+and we are mobilising our State Guardsmen for
+service on the border. And that&#8217;s about all we are
+doing. We are making neither guns nor rifles; we
+are building no ships; the increase in our regular army
+is of little account; some of the most vital of the great
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span>
+national departments are presided over by rogues,
+clowns, and fools&mdash;pacifists all!&mdash;stupid, dull, grotesque
+and impotent. And you ask me what my country
+is going to do. And I tell you that I don&#8217;t know.
+For real Americans, Thessa, these last two years have
+been years of shame. For we should have armed and
+mobilised when the first rifle-shot cracked across the
+Belgian frontier at Longwy; and we should have declared
+war when the first Hun set his filthy hoof on
+Belgian soil.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In our hearts we real Americans know it. But we
+had no leader&mdash;nobody of faith, conviction, vision, action,
+to do what was the only thing to do. No; we had
+only talkers to face the supreme crisis of the world&mdash;only
+the shallow noise of words was heard in answer
+to God&#8217;s own summons warning all mankind that hell&#8217;s
+deluge was at hand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The intense bitterness of what he said had made her
+very grave. She listened silently, intent on his every
+expression. And when he ended with a gesture of
+hopelessness and disgust, she sat gazing at him out
+of her lovely dark eyes, deep in reflection.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry,&#8221; she said at length, &#8220;do you know anything
+about the European systems of intelligence?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;only what I read in novels.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know that America, to-day, is fairly crawling
+with German spies?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose there are some here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are a hundred thousand paid German spies
+within an hour&#8217;s journey of this city.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked up incredulously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me tell you,&#8221; she said, &#8220;how it is arranged
+here. The German Ambassador is the master spy in
+America. Under his immediate supervision are the so-called
+diplomatic agents&mdash;the personnel of the embassy
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span>
+and members of the consular service. These people do
+not class themselves as agents or as spies; they are
+the directors of spies and agents.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Agents gather information from spies who perform
+the direct work of investigating. Spies usually work
+alone and report, through local agents, to consular
+or diplomatic agents. And these, in turn, report to the
+Ambassador, who reports to Berlin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is all directed from Berlin. The personal source
+of all German espionage is the Kaiser. He is the supreme
+master spy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where have you learned these things, Thessa?&#8221; he
+asked in a troubled voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have learned, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you&mdash;a spy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you been?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then how&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t ask me; just listen. There are men here in
+your city who are here for no good purpose. I do
+not mean to say that merely because they seek also to
+injure me&mdash;destroy me, perhaps,&mdash;God knows what
+they wish to do to me!&mdash;but I say it because I believe
+that your country will declare war on Germany
+some day very soon. And that you ought to watch
+these spies who move everywhere among you!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Germany also believes that war is near. And this
+is why she strives to embroil your country with Japan
+and Mexico. That is why she discredits you with Holland,
+with Sweden. It is why she instructs her spies
+here to set fires in factories and on ships, blow up
+powder mills and great industrial plants which are
+manufacturing munitions for the Allies of the Triple
+Entente.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;America may doubt that there is to be war between
+her and Germany, but Germany does not doubt it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me tell you what else Germany is doing. She
+is spreading insidious propaganda through a million
+disloyal Germans and pacifist Americans, striving to
+poison the minds of your people against England. She
+secretly buys, owns, controls newspapers which are
+used as vehicles for that propaganda.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She is debauching the Irish here who are discontented
+with England&#8217;s rule; she spends vast sums of
+money in teaching treachery in your schools, in arousing
+suspicion among farmers, in subsidising mercantile
+firms.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, I tell you that a Hun is always a Hun; a
+Boche is always a Boche, call him what else you will.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Germans are the monkeys of the world; they
+have imitated the human race. But, Garry, they are
+still what they always have been at heart, barbarians
+who have no business in Europe.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In their hearts&mdash;and for all their priests and clergymen
+and cathedrals and churches&mdash;they still believe in
+their old gods which they themselves created&mdash;fierce,
+bestial supermen, more cruel, more powerful, more
+treacherous, more beastly than they themselves.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is the German. That is the Hun under all
+his disguises. No white man can meet him on his
+own ground; no white man can understand him, appeal
+to anything in common between himself and the Boche.
+He is brutal and contemptuous to women; he is tyrannical
+to the weak, cringing to the strong, fundamentally
+bestial, utterly selfish, intolerant of any civilisation
+which is not his conception of civilisation&mdash;his
+monkey-like conception of Christ&mdash;whom, in his pagan
+soul, he secretly sneers at&mdash;not always secretly, now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She straightened up with a quick little gesture of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span>
+contempt. Her face was brightly flushed; her eyes
+brilliant with scorn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, has not America heard enough of &#8216;the good
+German,&#8217; the &#8216;kindly Teuton,&#8217; the harmless, sentimental
+and &#8216;excellent citizen,&#8217; whose morally edifying origin
+as a model emigrant came out of his own sly mouth,
+and who has, by his own propaganda alone, become an
+accepted type of good-natured thrift and erudition in
+your Republic?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me say to you what a French girl thinks! A
+hundred years ago you were a very small nation, but
+you were homogeneous and the average of culture was
+far higher in America then than it is at present. For
+now, your people&#8217;s cultivation and civilisation is diluted
+by the ignorance of millions of foreigners to
+whom you have given hospitality. And, of these, the
+Germans have done you the most deadly injury, vulgarising
+public taste in art and literature, affronting
+your clean, sane intelligence by the new decadence and
+perversion in music, in painting, in illustration, in fiction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whatever the normal Hun touches he vulgarises;
+whatever the decadent Boche touches he soils and degrades
+and transforms into a horrible abomination.
+This he has done under your eyes in art, in literature,
+in architecture, in modern German music.</p>
+<p>&#8220;His filthy touch is even on your domestic life&mdash;this
+Barbarian who feeds grossly, whose personal habits
+are a by-word among civilised and cultured people,
+whose raw ferocity is being now revealed to the world
+day by day in Europe, whose proverbial clumsiness and
+stupidity have long furnished your stage with its oafs
+and clowns.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is the thing that is now also invading you with
+thousands of spies, betraying you with millions of traitors,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span>
+and which will one day turn on you and tear you
+and trample you like an enraged hog, unless you and
+your people awake to what is passing in the world you
+live in!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was on her feet now, flushed, lovely, superb in
+her deep and controlled excitement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you this much,&#8221; she said. &#8220;It is Germany
+that wishes my destruction. Germany trapped me;
+Germany would have destroyed me in the trap had I
+not escaped. Now, Germany is afraid of me, knowing
+what I know. And her agents follow me, spy on
+me, thwart me, prevent me from earning my living,
+until I&mdash;I can scarcely endure it&mdash;this hounding and
+persecution&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Her voice broke; she waited to control
+it:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am not a spy. I never was one. I never betrayed
+a human soul&mdash;no, nor any living thing that
+ever trusted me! These people who hound me know
+that I am not guilty of that for which another Government
+is ready to try me&mdash;and condemn me. They
+fear that I shall prove to this other Government my
+innocence. I can&#8217;t. But they fear I can. And the
+Hun is afraid of me. Because, if I ever proved my innocence,
+it would involve the arrest and trial and certain
+execution of men high in rank in the capital of this
+other country. So&mdash;the Hun dogs me everywhere I
+go. I do not know why he does not try to kill me.
+Possibly he lacks courage, so far. Possibly he has
+not had any good opportunity, because I am very careful,
+Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But this&mdash;this is outrageous!&#8221; broke out Barres.
+&#8220;You can&#8217;t stand this sort of thing, Thessa! It&#8217;s a
+matter for the police&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t interfere!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t interfere! The last thing I want is publicity.
+The last thing I wish for is that your city, state, or
+national government should notice me at all or have
+any curiosity concerning me or any idea of investigating
+my affairs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because, although as soon as your country is at
+war with Germany, my danger from Germany ceases,
+on the other hand another very deadly danger begins
+at once to threaten me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What danger?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It will come from a country with which your country
+will be allied. And I shall be arrested here as a
+<i>German</i> spy, and I shall be sent back to the country
+which I am supposed to have betrayed. And there
+nothing in the world could save me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean&mdash;court-martial?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A brief one, Garry. And then the end.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Death?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+<p>After a few moments she moved toward the door.
+He went with her, picking up his hat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t let you go with me,&#8221; she said with a faint
+smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are involved sufficiently already.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do I care for&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush, Garry. Do you wish to displease me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please! Call me a taxicab. I wish to go back
+alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In spite of argument she remained smilingly firm.
+Finally he rang up a taxi for her. When it signalled
+he walked down stairs, through the dim hall and out
+to the grilled gateway beside her.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Good-bye,&#8221; she said, giving her hand. He detained
+it:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t bear to have you go alone&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m perfectly safe, mon ami. I&#8217;ve had a delightful
+time at your party&mdash;really I have. This affair
+of the letter does not spoil it. I&#8217;m accustomed to similar
+episodes. So now, good-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Am I to see you again soon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soon? Ah, I can&#8217;t tell you that, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When it is convenient then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And will you telephone me on your safe arrival home
+to-night?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you wish. You&#8217;re so sweet to me, Garry. You
+always have been. Don&#8217;t worry about me. I am not
+in the least apprehensive. You see I&#8217;m rather a clever
+girl, and I know something about the Boche.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You had your letter stolen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only half of it!&#8221; she retorted gaily. &#8220;She is a
+gallant little thing, your friend Dulcie. Please give
+her my love. As for your other friends, they were
+amusing.... Mr. Mandel spoke to me about an engagement.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you consider it? Corot Mandel is the
+most important producer in New York.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is he, really? Well, if I&#8217;m not interfered with
+perhaps I shall go to call on Mr. Mandel.&#8221; She began
+to laugh mischievously to herself: &#8220;There was one
+man there who never gave me a moment&#8217;s peace until
+I promised to lunch with him at the Ritz.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who the devil&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Westmore,&#8221; she said demurely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Jim Westmore! Well, Thessa, he&#8217;s a corker.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span>
+He&#8217;s really a splendid fellow, but look out for him!
+He&#8217;s also a philanderer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, dear. I thought he was just a sculptor and
+a rather strenuous young man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wasn&#8217;t knocking him,&#8221; said Barres, laughing,
+&#8220;but he falls in love with every pretty woman he meets.
+I&#8217;m merely warning you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, Garry,&#8221; she smiled. She gave him her
+hand again, pulled the rose-coloured cloak around her
+bare shoulders, ran across the sidewalk to the taxi,
+and whispered to the driver.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll telephone me when you get home?&#8221; he reminded
+her, baffled but smiling.</p>
+<p>She laughed and nodded. The cab wheeled out into
+the street, backed, turned, and sped away eastward.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Half an hour later his telephone rang:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, dear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it you, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I&#8217;m going to bed.... Tell Mr. Westmore
+that I&#8217;m not at all sure I shall meet him at the Ritz
+on Monday.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll go, anyway.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will he? What devotion. What faith in woman!
+What a lively capacity for hope eternal! What vanity!
+Well, then, tell him he may take his chances.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell him. But I think you might make a date
+with me, too, you little fraud!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe I will. Maybe I&#8217;ll drop in to see you unexpectedly
+some morning. And don&#8217;t let me catch
+<i>you</i> philandering in your studio with some pretty
+woman!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No fear, Thessa.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not at all sure. And your little model, Dulcie,
+is dangerously attractive.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Piffle! She&#8217;s a kid!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be too sure of that, either! And tell Mr.
+Westmore that I <i>may</i> keep my engagement. And then
+again I may not! Good-night, Garry, dear!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-night!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Walking slowly back to extinguish the lights in the
+studio before retiring to his own room for the night,
+Barres noticed a piece of paper on the table under
+the lamp, evidently a fragment from the torn letter.</p>
+<p>The words &#8220;Ferez Bey&#8221; and &#8220;Murtagh&#8221; caught his
+eye before he realised that it was not his business to
+decipher the fragment.</p>
+<p>So he lighted a match, held the shred of letter paper
+to the flame, and let it burn between his fingers until
+only a blackened cinder fell to the floor.</p>
+<p>But the two names were irrevocably impressed on
+his mind, and he found himself wondering who these
+men might be, as he stood by his bed, undressing.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
+<a name='XIV_PROBLEMS' id='XIV_PROBLEMS'></a>
+<h2>XIV
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />PROBLEMS</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The weather was turning hot in New York, and
+by the middle of the week the city sweltered.</p>
+<p>Barres, dropping his brushes and laying
+aside a dozen pictures in all stages of incompletion;
+and being, otherwise, deeply bitten by the dangerously
+enchanting art of Manship&mdash;dangerous as inspiration
+but enchanting to gaze upon&mdash;was very busy making
+out of wax a diminutive figure of the running Arethusa.</p>
+<p>And Dulcie, poor child, what with being poised on
+the ball of one little foot and with the other leg slung
+up in a padded loop, almost perished. Perspiration
+spangled her body like dew powdering a rose; sweat
+glistened on the features and shoulder-bared arms of
+the impassioned sculptor, even blinding him at times;
+but he worked on in a sort of furious exaltation, reeking
+of ill-smelling wax. And Dulcie, perfectly willing
+to die at her post, thought she was going to, and finally
+fainted away with an alarming thud.</p>
+<p>Which brought Barres to his senses, even before she
+had recovered hers; and he proclaimed a vacation for
+his overworked Muse and his model, too.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you feel better, Sweetness?&#8221; he enquired, as she
+opened her eyes when Selinda exchanged a wet compress
+for an ice-bag.</p>
+<p>Dulcie, flat on the lounge, swathed in a crash bathrobe,
+replied only by a slight but reassuring flutter of
+one hand.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></div>
+<p>Esmé Trenor sauntered in for a gossip, wearing his
+celebrated lilac-velvet jacket and Louis XV slippers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the devil,&#8221; he drawled, looking from Dulcie to
+the Arethusa; &#8220;she&#8217;s worth more than your amateurish
+statuette, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet she is. And here&#8217;s where her vacation begins.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Esmé turned to Dulcie, lifting his eyebrows:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You go away with him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The idea had never before entered Barres&#8217;s head.
+But he said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly; we both need the country for a few
+weeks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll go to one of those damned artists&#8217; colonies,
+I suppose,&#8221; remarked Esmé; &#8220;otherwise, washed and
+unwashed would expel shrill cries.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Probably not in my own home,&#8221; returned Barres,
+coolly. &#8220;I shall write my family about it to-day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Corot Mandel dropped in, also, that morning&mdash;he
+and Esmé were ever prowling uneasily around Dulcie
+in these days&mdash;and he studied the Arethusa through a
+foggy monocle, and he loitered about Dulcie&#8217;s couch.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know,&#8221; he said to Barres, &#8220;there&#8217;s nothing like
+dancing to recuperate from all this metropolitan pandemonium.
+If you like, I can let Dulcie in on that
+thing I&#8217;m putting on at Northbrook.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s up to her,&#8221; said Barres. &#8220;It&#8217;s her vacation,
+and she can do what she likes with it&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Esmé interposed with characteristic impudence:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Barres imitates Manship with impunity; I&#8217;d like to
+have a plagiaristic try at Sorolla and Zuloaga, if Dulcie
+says the word. Very agreeable job for a girl in hot
+weather,&#8221; he added, looking at Dulcie, &#8220;&mdash;an easy
+swimming pose in some nice cool little Adirondack
+lake&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Seriously,&#8221; interrupted Mandel, twirling his monocle
+impatiently by its greasy string, &#8220;I mean it,
+Barres.&#8221; He turned and looked at the lithely speeding
+Arethusa. &#8220;If that is Dulcie, I can give her a
+good part in&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You hear, Dulcie?&#8221; enquired Barres. &#8220;These two
+kind gentlemen have what they consider attractive jobs
+for you. All I can offer you is liberty to tumble around
+the hayfields at Foreland Farms, with my sketching
+easel in the middle distance. Now, choose your job,
+Sweetness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The hayfields and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s voice faded to a whisper; Barres, seated beside
+her, leaned nearer, bending his head to listen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And <i>you</i>,&#8221; she murmured again, &#8220;&mdash;if you want
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I always want you,&#8221; he whispered laughingly, in
+return.</p>
+<p>Esmé regarded the scene with weariness and chagrin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on,&#8221; he said languidly to Mandel, &#8220;we&#8217;ll buy
+her some flowers for the evil she does us. She&#8217;ll need
+&#8217;em; she&#8217;ll be finished before this amateur sculptor finishes
+his blooming Arethusa.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mandel lingered:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going up to Northbrook in a day or two,
+Barres. If you change&mdash;change Dulcie&#8217;s mind for her,
+just call me up at the Adolf Gerhardt&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie will call you up if she changes my mind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie laughed.</p>
+<p>When they had gone, Barres said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know I haven&#8217;t thought about the summer.
+What was your idea about it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My&mdash;idea?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. You&#8217;d want a couple of weeks in the country
+somewhere, wouldn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. I never went away,&#8221; she replied
+vaguely.</p>
+<p>It occurred to him, now, that for all his pleasant
+toleration of Soane&#8217;s little daughter during the two
+years and more of his residence in Dragon Court, he
+had never really interested himself in her well-being,
+never thought to enquire about anything which might
+really concern her. He had taken it for granted that
+most people have some change from the stifling, grinding,
+endless routine of their lives&mdash;some respite, some
+quiet interval for recovery and rest.</p>
+<p>And so, returning from his own vacations, it never
+occurred to him that the shy girl whom he permitted
+within his precincts, when convenient, never knew any
+other break in the grey monotony&mdash;never left the dusty,
+soiled, and superheated city from one year&#8217;s summer
+to another.</p>
+<p>Now, for the first time, he realised it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll go up there,&#8221; he said. &#8220;My family is accustomed
+to models I bring there for my summer work.
+You&#8217;ll be very comfortable, and you&#8217;ll feel quite at
+home. We live very simply at Foreland Farms. Everybody
+will be kind and nobody will bother you, and you
+can do exactly as you please, because we all do that at
+Foreland Farms. Will you come when I&#8217;m ready to
+go up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She gave him a sweet, confused glance from her grey
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think your family would mind?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mind?&#8221; He smiled. &#8220;We never interfere with one
+another&#8217;s affairs. It&#8217;s not like many families, I fancy.
+We take it for granted that nobody in the family could
+do anything not entirely right. So we take that for
+granted and it&#8217;s a jolly sensible arrangement.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She turned her face on the pillow presently; the ice-bag
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span>
+slid off; she sat up in her bathrobe, stretched her
+arms, smiled faintly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall I try again?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Lord!&#8221; he said, &#8220;<i>would</i> you? Upon my word,
+I believe you would! No more posing to-day! I&#8217;m not
+a murderer. Lie there until you&#8217;re ready to dress, and
+then ring for Selinda.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you want me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but I want you alive, not dead! Anyway,
+I&#8217;ve got to talk to Westmore this morning, so you may
+be as lazy as you like&mdash;lounge about, read&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He
+went over to her, patted her cheek in the smiling, absent-minded
+way he had with her: &#8220;Tell me, ducky,
+how are you feeling, anyway?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It confused her dreadfully to blush when he touched
+her, but she always did; and she turned her face away
+now, saying that she was quite all right again.</p>
+<p>Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he nodded:</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s fine,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Now, trot along to Selinda,
+and when you&#8217;re fixed up you can have the run
+of the place to yourself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Could I have my slippers?&#8221; She was very shy
+even about her bare feet when she was not actually
+posing.</p>
+<p>He found her slippers for her, laid them beside the
+lounge, and strolled away. Westmore rang a moment
+later, but when he blew in like a noisy breeze Dulcie
+<ins title='Was has'>had</ins> disappeared.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My little model toppled over,&#8221; said Barres, taking
+his visitor&#8217;s outstretched hand and wincing under the
+grip. &#8220;I shall cut out work while this weather lasts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore turned toward the Arethusa, laughed at
+the visible influence of Manship.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All the same, Garry,&#8221; he said, &#8220;there&#8217;s a lot in
+your running nymph. It&#8217;s nice; it&#8217;s knowing.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;That is pleasant to hear from a sculptor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sculptor? Sometimes I feel like a sculpin&mdash;prickly
+heat, you know.&#8221; He laughed heartily at his own
+witticism, slapped Barres on the shoulder, lighted a
+pipe, and flung himself on the couch recently vacated
+by Dulcie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This damned war,&#8221; he said, &#8220;takes the native gaiety
+out of a man&mdash;takes the laughter out of life. Over two
+years of it now, Garry; and it&#8217;s as though the sun is
+slowly growing dimmer every day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; nodded Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure you feel it. Everybody does. By God, I have
+periods of sickness when the illustrated London periodicals
+arrive, and I see those dead men pictured there&mdash;such
+fine, clean fellows&mdash;our own kind&mdash;half of them
+just kids!&mdash;well, it hurts me to look at them, and, for
+the sheer pain of it, I&#8217;m always inclined to shirk and
+turn that page quickly. But I say to myself, &#8216;Jim,
+they&#8217;re dead fighting Christ&#8217;s own battle, and the least
+you can do is to read their names and ages, and look
+upon their faces.&#8217;... And I do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So do I,&#8221; nodded Barres, sombrely gazing at the
+carpet.</p>
+<p>After a silence, Westmore said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, the Boche has taken his medicine and canned
+Tirpitz&mdash;the wild swine that he is. So I don&#8217;t suppose
+we&#8217;ll get mixed up in it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Hun is a great liar,&#8221; remarked Barres.
+&#8220;There&#8217;s no telling.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to Plattsburg again this year?&#8221; enquired
+Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. Are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the autumn, perhaps.... Garry, it&#8217;s discouraging.
+Do you realise what a gigantic task we have
+ahead of us if the Hun ever succeeds in kicking us into
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span>
+this war? And what a gigantic mess we&#8217;ve made of
+two years&#8217; inactivity?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres, pondering, scowled at his own thoughts.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And now,&#8221; continued the other, &#8220;the Guard is off
+to the border, and here we are, stripped clean, with
+the city lousy with Germans and every species of Hun
+deviltry hatching out fires and explosions and disloyal
+propaganda from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the
+Lakes to the Gulf!</p>
+<p>&#8220;A fine mess!&mdash;no troops, nothing to arm them with,
+no modern artillery, no preparations; the Boche growing
+more insolent, more murderous, but slyer; a row
+on with Mexico, another brewing with Japan, all Europe
+and Great Britain regarding us with contempt&mdash;I
+ask you, can you beat it, Garry? Are there any
+lower depths for us?&mdash;any sub-cellars of iniquity into
+which we can tumble, like the basket of jelly-fish we
+seem to be!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a nightmare,&#8221; said Barres. &#8220;Since Liège and
+the <i>Lusitania</i>, it&#8217;s been a bad dream getting worse.
+We&#8217;ll have to wake, you know. If we don&#8217;t, we&#8217;re of
+no more substance than the dream itself:&mdash;we <i>are</i> the
+dream, and we&#8217;ll end like one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to wait a bit longer,&#8221; said Westmore
+restlessly, &#8220;and if there&#8217;s nothing doing, it&#8217;s me for
+the other side.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For me, too, Jim.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it a bargain?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.... I&#8217;d rather go under my own flag,
+of course.... We&#8217;ll see how this Boche backdown
+turns out. I don&#8217;t think it will last. I believe the Huns
+have been stirring up the Mexicans. It wouldn&#8217;t surprise
+me if they were at the bottom of the Japanese
+menace. But what angers me is to think that we have
+received with innocent hospitality these hundreds of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span>
+thousands of Huns in America, and that now, all over
+the land, this vast, acclimated nest of snakes rises hissing
+at us, menacing us with their filthy fangs!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank God our police is still half Irish,&#8221; growled
+Westmore, puffing at his pipe. &#8220;These dirty swine
+might try to rush the city if war comes while the Guard
+is away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re doing enough damage as it is,&#8221; said Barres,
+&#8220;with their traitorous press, their pacifists, their
+agents everywhere inciting labour to strike, teaching
+disorganisation, combining commercially, directing
+blackmail, bomb outrages, incendiaries, and infesting
+the Republic with a plague of spies&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The studio bell rang sharply. Barres, who stood
+near the door, opened it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa!&#8221; he exclaimed, astonished and delighted.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span>
+<a name='XV_BLACKMAIL' id='XV_BLACKMAIL'></a>
+<h2>XV
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />BLACKMAIL</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>She came in swiftly, stirring the sultry stillness
+of the studio with a little breeze from her gown,
+faintly fragrant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, dear!&mdash;&#8221; She gave him both her hands and
+looked at him; and he saw the pink tint of excitement
+in her cheeks and her dark eyes brilliant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa, this is charming of you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No! I came&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She cast a swift glance around
+her, beheld Westmore, gave him one hand as he came
+forward.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you do?&#8221; she said, almost breathlessly,
+plainly controlling some inward excitement.</p>
+<p>But Westmore retained her hand and laid the other
+over it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You <i>said</i> you&#8217;d come to the Ritz&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry.... I have been&mdash;bothered&mdash;with matters&mdash;affairs&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are bothered now,&#8221; he said. &#8220;If you have
+something to say to Garry, I&#8217;ll go about my business....
+Only I&#8217;m sorry it&#8217;s not your business, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He released her hand and reached for the door-knob:
+her dark eyes were resting on him with a strained, intent
+expression. On impulse she thrust out her arm
+and closed the door, which he had begun to open.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please&mdash;Mr. Westmore.... I do want to see you.
+I&#8217;m trying to think clearly&mdash;&#8221; She turned and looked
+at Barres.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Is it serious?&#8221; he said in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;suppose so.... Garry, I wish to&mdash;to come
+here ... and stay.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it all right?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; he replied pleasantly, bewildered and
+almost inclined to laugh.</p>
+<p>She said in a low, tense voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m really in trouble, Garry. I told you once that
+the word was not in my vocabulary.... I&#8217;ve had to
+include it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so sorry! Tell me all about&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He checked himself: she turned to Westmore&mdash;a
+deeper flush came into her cheeks&mdash;then she said
+gravely:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I scarcely know Mr. Westmore, but if he is like
+you, Garry&mdash;your sort&mdash;perhaps he&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;d do anything for you, Thessa, if you&#8217;ll let him.
+Have you confidence in me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know I have.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you can have the same confidence in Jim. I
+suggest it because I have a hazy idea what your trouble
+is. And if you came to ask advice, then I think
+that you&#8217;ll get double value if you include Jim Westmore
+in your confidence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She stood silent and with heightened colour for a
+moment, then her expression became humorous, and,
+partly turning, she put out her gloved hand behind
+her and took hold of Westmore&#8217;s sleeve. It was
+at once an appeal and an impulsive admission of her
+confidence in this young man whom she had liked from
+the beginning, and who must be trustworthy because
+he was the friend of Garret Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m scared half to death,&#8221; she remarked, without a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span>
+quaver in her voice, but her smile had now become
+forced, and a quick, uneven little sigh escaped her as
+she passed her arms through Barres&#8217; and Westmore&#8217;s,
+and, moving across the carpet between them, suffered
+herself to be installed among the Chinese cushions upon
+the lounge by the open window.</p>
+<p>In her distractingly pretty summer hat and gown,
+and with her white gloves and gold-mesh purse in her
+lap&mdash;her fresh, engaging face and daintily rounded
+figure&mdash;Thessalie Dunois seemed no more mature, no
+more experienced in worldly wisdom, than the charming
+young girls one passes on Fifth Avenue on a golden
+morning in early spring.</p>
+<p>But Westmore, looking into her dark eyes, divined,
+perhaps, something less inexperienced, less happy in
+their lovely, haunted depths. And, troubled by he
+knew not what, he waited in silence for her to speak.</p>
+<p>Barres said to her:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are being annoyed, Thessa, dear. I gather
+that much from what has already happened. Can Jim
+and I do anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.... It&#8217;s come to a point where I&mdash;I&#8217;m
+afraid&mdash;to be alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her gaze fell; she sat brooding for a few moments,
+then, with a quick intake of breath:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It humiliates me to come to you. Would you believe
+that of me, Garry, that it has come to a point
+where I am actually afraid to be alone? I thought I
+had plenty of what the world calls courage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I <i>had</i>. I don&#8217;t know what&#8217;s become of it&mdash;what has
+happened to me.... I don&#8217;t want to tell you more
+than I have to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell us as much as you think necessary,&#8221; said
+Barres, watching her.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you.... Well, then, some years ago I
+earned the enmity of a man. And, through him, a
+European Government blacklisted me. It was a terrible
+thing. I did not fully appreciate what it meant
+at the time.&#8221; She turned to Westmore in her pretty,
+impulsive way: &#8220;This European Government, of which
+I speak, believes me to be the agent of another foreign
+government&mdash;believes that I betrayed its interests.
+This man whom I offended, to punish me and to cover
+his own treachery, furnished evidence which would have
+convicted me of treachery and espionage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The excited colour began to dye her cheeks again;
+she stretched out one arm in appeal to Westmore:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please believe me! I am no spy. I never was. I
+was too young, too stupid, too innocent in such matters
+to know what this man was about&mdash;that he had
+very cleverly implicated me in this abhorrent matter.
+Do you believe me, Mr. Westmore?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I do!&#8221; he said with a fervour not, perhaps,
+necessary. &#8220;If you&#8217;ll be kind enough to point
+out that gentleman&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait, Jim,&#8221; interposed Barres, nodding to Thessalie
+to proceed.</p>
+<p>She had been looking at Westmore, apparently much
+interested in his ardour, but she came to herself when
+Barres interrupted, and sat silent again as though
+searching her mind concerning what further she might
+say. Slowly the forced smile curved her lips again.
+She said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know just what that enraged European
+Government might have done to me had I been arrested,
+because I ran away ... and came here.... But the
+man whom I offended discovered where I was and never
+for a day even have his agents ceased to watch me,
+annoy me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></div>
+<p>There was a quick break in her voice; she set her
+lips in silence until the moment&#8217;s emotion had passed,
+then, turning to Westmore with winning dignity: &#8220;I
+am a dancer and singer&mdash;an entertainer of sorts, by
+profession. I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell Westmore a little more, Thessa,&#8221; said Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you think it necessary.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell him. Miss Dunois was the most celebrated
+entertainer in Europe when this happened. Since she
+came here the man she has mentioned has, somehow,
+managed to interfere and spoil every business arrangement
+which she has attempted.&#8221; He looked at Thessa.
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t know whether, if Thessalie had cared to use
+the name under which she was known all over Europe&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t dare, Garry. I thought that, if some
+manager would only give me a chance I could make a
+new name for myself. But wherever I went I was
+dogged, and every arrangement was spoiled.... I had
+my jewels.... You remember some of them, Garry.
+I gave those away&mdash;I think I told you why. <i>But</i> I
+had other jewels&mdash;unset diamonds given to my mother
+by Prince Haledine. Well, I sold them and invested
+the money.... And my income is all I have&mdash;quite a
+tiny income, Mr. Westmore, but enough. Only I could
+have done very well here, I think, if I had not been
+interfered with.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa,&#8221; said Barres, &#8220;why not tell us both a little
+more? We&#8217;re devoted to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl lifted her dark eyes, and unconsciously they
+were turned to Westmore. And in that young man&#8217;s
+vigorous, virile personality perhaps she recognised
+something refreshing, subtlely compelling, for, still
+looking at him, she began to speak quite naturally of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span>
+things which had long been locked within her lonely
+heart:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was scarcely more than a child when General
+Count Klingenkampf killed my father. The Grand
+Duke Cyril hushed it up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had several thousand roubles. I had&mdash;trouble
+with the Grand Duke.... He annoyed me ... as
+some men annoy a woman.... And when I put him
+in his place he insulted the memory of my mother because
+she was a Georgian.... I slapped his face with
+a whip.... And then I had to run away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She drew a quick, uneven breath, smiling at Westmore
+from whose intent gaze her own dark eyes never
+wandered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My father had been a French officer before he took
+service in Russia,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I was educated in Alsace
+and then in England. Then my father sent for me and
+I returned to St. Peters&mdash;I mean Petrograd. And because
+I loved dancing my father obtained permission
+for me to study at the Imperial school. Also, I had
+it in me to sing, and I had excellent instruction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And because I did such things in my own way,
+sometimes my father permitted me to entertain at the
+gay gatherings patronised by the Grand Duke Cyril.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She smiled in reminiscence, and her gaze became remote
+for a moment. Then, coming back, she lifted her
+eyes once more to Westmore&#8217;s:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ran away from Cyril and went to Constantinople,
+where Von-der-Goltz Pasha and others whom I had met
+at the Grand Duke&#8217;s parties, when little more than a
+child, were stationed. I entertained at the German
+Embassy, and at the Yildiz Palace.... I was successful.
+And my success brought me opportunities&mdash;of
+the wrong kind. Do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore nodded.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;So,&#8221; she continued, with a slight movement of disdain,
+&#8220;I didn&#8217;t quite see how I was to get to Paris all
+alone and begin a serious career. And one evening I
+entertained at the German Embassy&mdash;tell me, do you
+know Constantinople?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it is nothing except a vast mass of gossip
+and intrigue. One breakfasts on rumours, lunches on
+secrets, and dines on scandals. And my maid told me
+enough that day to make certain matters quite clear
+to me.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And so I entertained at the Embassy.... Afterward
+it was no surprise when his Excellency whispered
+to me that an honest career was assured me if I chose,
+and that I might be honestly launched in Paris without
+paying the price which I would not pay.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Later I was not surprised, either, when Ferez Bey,
+a friend of my father, and a man I had known since
+childhood, presented me to&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She glanced at
+Barres; he nodded; she concluded to name the man:
+&#8220;&mdash;the Count d&#8217;Eblis, a Senator of France, and owner
+of the newspaper called <i>Le Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a silence she stole another glance at Barres; a
+smile hovered on her lips. He, also, smiled; for he,
+too, was thinking of that moonlit way they travelled
+together on a night in June so long ago.</p>
+<p>Her glance asked:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it necessary to tell Mr. Westmore this?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He shook his head very slightly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; she went on, her eyes reverting again to
+Westmore, &#8220;the Count d&#8217;Eblis, it appeared, had fallen
+in love with me at first sight.... In the beginning he
+misunderstood me.... When he realised that I would
+endure no nonsense from any man he proved to be
+sufficiently infatuated with me to offer me marriage.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></div>
+<p>She shrugged:</p>
+<p>&#8220;At that age one man resembled another to me.
+Marriage was a convention, a desirable business arrangement.
+The Count was in a position to launch
+me into a career. Careers begin in Paris. And I knew
+enough to realise that a girl has to pay in one way or
+another for such an opportunity. So I said that I
+would marry him if I came to care enough for him.
+Which merely meant that if he were ordinarily polite
+and considerate and companionable I would ultimately
+become his wife.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was the arrangement. And it caused much
+trouble. Because I was a&mdash;&#8221; she smiled at Barres,
+&#8220;&mdash;a success from the first moment. And d&#8217;Eblis immediately
+began to be abominably jealous and unreasonable.
+Again and again he broke his promise and
+tried to interfere with my career. He annoyed me constantly
+by coming to my hotel at inopportune moments;
+he made silly scenes if I ventured to have any
+friends or if I spoke twice to the same man; he distrusted
+me&mdash;he and Ferez Bey, who had taken service
+with him. Together they humiliated me, made my life
+miserable by their distrust.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I warned d&#8217;Eblis that his absurd jealousy and unkindness
+would not advance him in my interest. And
+for a while he seemed to become more reasonable. In
+fact, he apparently became sane again, and I had even
+consented to our betrothal, when, by accident, I discovered
+that he and Ferez were having me followed
+everywhere I went. And that very night was to have
+been a gay one&mdash;a party in honour of our betrothal&mdash;the
+night I discovered what he and Ferez had been doing
+to me.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was so hurt, so incensed, that&mdash;&#8221; She cast an involuntary
+glance at Barres; he made a slight movement
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span>
+of negation, and she concluded her sentence calmly:
+&#8220;&mdash;I quarrelled with d&#8217;Eblis.... There was a very
+dreadful scene. And it transpired that he had sold a
+preponderating interest in <i>Le Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i> to Ferez
+Bey, who was operating the paper in German interests
+through orders directly from Berlin. And d&#8217;Eblis
+thought I knew this and that I meant to threaten him,
+perhaps blackmail him, to shield some mythical lover
+with whom, he declared, I had become involved, and
+who was betraying him to the British Ambassador.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She drew a deep, long breath:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it necessary for me to say that there was not a
+particle of truth in his hysterical accusations?&mdash;that
+I was utterly astounded? But my amazement became
+anger and then sheer terror when I learned from his
+own lips that he had cunningly involved me in his transactions
+with Ferez and with Berlin. So cunningly, so
+cleverly, so seriously had he managed to compromise
+me as a German agent that he had a mass of evidence
+against me sufficient to have had me court-martialled
+and shot had it been in time of war.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To me the situation seemed hopeless. I never would
+be believed by the French Government. Horror of arrest
+overwhelmed me. In a panic I took my unset
+jewels and fled to Belgium. And then I came here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She paused, trembling a little at the memory of it
+all. Then:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The agents of d&#8217;Eblis and Ferez discovered me and
+have given me no peace. I do not appeal to the police
+because that would stir up secret agents of the French
+Government. But it has come now to a place where&mdash;where
+I don&#8217;t know what to do.... And so&mdash;being
+afraid at last&mdash;I am here to&mdash;to ask&mdash;advice&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She waited to control her voice, then opened her
+gold-mesh bag and drew from it a letter.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Three weeks ago I received this,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I
+ignored it. Two weeks ago, as I opened the door of
+my room to go out, a shot was fired at me, and I heard
+somebody running down stairs.... I was badly
+scared. But I went out and did my shopping, and
+then I went to the writing room of a hotel and wrote
+to Garry.... Somebody watching me must have seen
+me write it, because an attempt was made to steal the
+letter. A man wearing a handkerchief over his face
+tried to snatch it out of the hands of Dulcie Soane.
+But he got only half of the letter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And when I got home that same evening I found
+that my room had been ransacked.... That was why
+I did not go to meet you at the Ritz; I was too upset.
+Besides, I was busy moving my quarters.... But it
+was no use. Last night I was awakened by hearing
+somebody working at the lock of my bedroom. And I
+sat up till morning with a pistol in my hand.... And&mdash;I
+don&#8217;t think I had better live entirely alone&mdash;until
+it is safer. Do you, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should think not!&#8221; said Westmore, turning red
+with anger.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you wish us to see that letter?&#8221; asked Barres.</p>
+<p>She handed it to him. It was typewritten; and he
+read it aloud, leisurely and very distinctly, pausing
+now and then to give full weight to some particularly
+significant and sinister sentence:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Mademoiselle</span>:</p>
+<p>&#8220;For two years and more it has been repeatedly intimated
+to you that your presence in America is not desirable to
+certain people, except under certain conditions, which conditions
+you refuse to consider.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have impudently ignored these intimations.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, you are beginning to meddle. Therefore, this
+warning is sent to you: <i>Mind your business and cease
+your meddling!</i></p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Moreover, you are invited to leave the United States
+at your early convenience.</p>
+<p>&#8220;France, England, Russia, and Italy are closed to you.
+Without doubt you understand that. Also, doubtless you
+have no desire to venture into Germany, Austria, Bulgaria,
+or Turkey. Scandinavia remains open to you, and practically
+no other country except Spain, because we do not
+permit you to go to Mexico or to Central or South America.
+Do you comprehend? <i>We</i> do not permit it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Therefore, hold your tongue and control your <i>furor
+scribendi</i> while in New York. And make arrangements
+to take the next Danish steamer for Christiania.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is a friendly warning. For if you are still here
+in the United States two weeks after you have received
+this letter, other measures will be taken in your regard
+which will effectually dispose of your troublesome presence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The necessity which forces us to radical action in this
+affair is regrettable, but entirely your own fault.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have, from time to time during the last two years,
+received from us overtures of an amicable nature. You
+have been approached with discretion and have been offered
+every necessary guarantee to cover an understanding
+with us.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have treated our advances with frivolity and contempt.
+And what have you gained by your defiance?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Our patience and good nature has reached its limits.
+We shall ask nothing further of you; we deliver you our
+orders hereafter. And our orders are to leave New York
+immediately.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yet, even now, at the eleventh hour, it may not be too
+late for us to come to some understanding if you change
+your attitude entirely and show a proper willingness to
+negotiate with us in all good faith.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But that must be accomplished within the two weeks&#8217;
+grace given you before you depart.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know how to proceed. If you try to play us false
+you had better not have been born. If you deal honestly
+with us your troubles are over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is final.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>The Watcher.</span>&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span>
+<a name='XVI_THE_WATCHER' id='XVI_THE_WATCHER'></a>
+<h2>XVI
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE WATCHER</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>&#8220;The Watcher,&#8221; repeated Barres, studying the
+typewritten signature for a moment longer.
+Then he looked at Westmore: &#8220;What do you
+think of that, Jim?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore, naturally short tempered, became very
+red, got to his feet, and began striding about the studio
+as though some sudden blaze of inward anger were
+driving him into violent motion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The thing to do,&#8221; he said, &#8220;is to catch this
+&#8216;Watcher&#8217; fellow and beat him up. That&#8217;s the way to
+deal with blackmailers&mdash;catch &#8217;em and beat &#8217;em up&mdash;vermin
+of this sort&mdash;this blackmailing fraternity!&mdash;I
+haven&#8217;t anything to do; I&#8217;ll take the job!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;d better talk it over first,&#8221; suggested Barres.
+&#8220;There seem to be several ways of going about it. One
+way, of course, is to turn detective and follow Thessa
+around town. And, as you say, spot any man who
+dogs her and beat him up very thoroughly. That&#8217;s
+your way, Jim. But Thessa, unfortunately, doesn&#8217;t
+desire to be featured, and you can&#8217;t go about beating
+up people in the streets of New York without inviting
+publicity.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore came back and stood near Thessalie, who
+looked up at him from her seat on the Chinese couch
+with visible interest:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Westmore?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Garry is quite right about the way I feel. I don&#8217;t
+want notoriety. I can&#8217;t afford it. It would mean
+stirring up every French Government agent here in
+New York. And if America should ever declare war
+on Germany and become an ally of France, then your
+own Secret Service here would instantly arrest me and
+probably send me to France to stand trial.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She bent her pretty head, adding in a quiet voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Extradition would bring a very swift end to my
+career. With the lying evidence against me and a Senator
+of France to corroborate it by perjury&mdash;ask yourselves,
+gentlemen, how long it would take a military
+court to send me to the parade in the nearest caserne!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean they&#8217;d shoot you?&#8221; demanded Westmore,
+aghast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any court-martial to-day would turn me over to a
+firing squad!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; said Barres, turning to Westmore, &#8220;this
+is a much more serious matter than a case of ordinary
+blackmail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not go to our own Secret Service authorities
+and lay the entire business before them?&#8221; asked Westmore
+excitedly.</p>
+<p>But Thessalie shook her head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The evidence against me in Paris is overwhelming.
+My dossier alone, as it now stands, would surely condemn
+me without corroborative evidence. Your people
+here would never believe in me if the French Government
+forwarded to them a copy of my dossier from the
+secret archives in Paris. As for my own Government&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+She merely shrugged.</p>
+<p>Barres, much troubled, glanced from Thessalie to
+Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s rather a rotten situation,&#8221; he said. &#8220;There
+must be, of course, some sensible way to tackle it,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span>
+though I don&#8217;t quite see it yet. But one thing is very
+plain to me: Thessa ought to remain here with us for
+the present. Don&#8217;t you think so, Jim?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can I, Garry?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;You have only
+one room, and I couldn&#8217;t turn you out&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can arrange that,&#8221; interposed Westmore, turning
+eagerly to Barres with a significant gesture toward
+the door at the end of the studio. &#8220;There&#8217;s the solution,
+isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; agreed Barres; and to Thessalie, in explanation:
+&#8220;Westmore&#8217;s two bedrooms adjoin my
+studio&mdash;beyond that wall. We have merely to unlock
+those folding doors and throw his apartment into mine,
+making one long suite of rooms. Then you may have
+my room and I&#8217;ll take his spare room.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She still hesitated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am very grateful, Garry, and I admit that I am
+becoming almost afraid to remain entirely alone,
+but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Send for your effects,&#8221; he insisted cheerfully.
+&#8220;Aristocrates will move my stuff into Westmore&#8217;s spare
+room. Then you shall take my quarters and be comfortable
+and well guarded with Aristocrates and Selinda
+on one side of you, and Jim and myself just across
+the studio.&#8221; He cast a sombre glance at Westmore:
+&#8220;I suppose those rats will ultimately trail her to this
+place.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore turned to Thessalie:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where are your effects?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>She smiled forlornly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I gave up my lodgings this morning, packed everything,
+and came here, rather scared.&#8221; A little flush
+came over her face and she lifted her dark eyes and
+met Westmore&#8217;s intent gaze. &#8220;You are very kind,&#8221; she
+said. &#8220;My trunks are at the Grand Central Station&mdash;if
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span>
+you desire to make up my disconcerted mind for
+me. Do you really want me to come here and stay a
+few days?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore suppressed himself no longer:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t <i>let</i> you go!&#8221; he said. &#8220;I&#8217;m worried sick
+about you!&#8221; And to Barres, who sat slightly amazed
+at his friend&#8217;s warmth:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you suppose any of those dirty dogs have traced
+the trunks?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve never yet been able to conceal anything from
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Probably, then,&#8221; said Barres, &#8220;they have traced
+your luggage and are watching it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give me your checks, anyway,&#8221; said Westmore.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll go at once and get your baggage and bring it
+here. If they&#8217;re watching for you it will jolt them to
+see a man on the job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres nodded approval; Thessalie opened her purse
+and handed Westmore the checks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You both are so kind,&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;I have not
+felt so sheltered, so secure in many, many months.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore, extremely red again, controlled his emotions&mdash;whatever
+they were&mdash;with a visible effort:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry for one moment,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Garry
+and I are going to settle this outrageous business for
+you. Now, I&#8217;m off to find your trunks. And if you
+could give me a description of any of these fellows
+who follow you about&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please&mdash;you are not to beat up anybody!&#8221; she reminded
+him, with a troubled smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll remember. I promise you not to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think one of them is a tall, bony, one-eyed man,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span>
+who has been hanging around here pretending to peddle
+artists&#8217; materials.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie made a quick gesture of assent and of caution:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes! His name is Max Freund. I have found it
+impossible to conceal my whereabouts from him. This
+man, with only one eye, appears to be a friend of the
+superintendent, Soane. I am not certain that Soane
+himself is employed by this gang of blackmailers, but
+I believe that his one-eyed friend may pay him for any
+scraps of information concerning me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then we had better keep an eye on Soane,&#8221; growled
+Westmore. &#8220;He&#8217;s no good; he&#8217;ll take graft from anybody.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is his daughter, Dulcie?&#8221; asked Thessalie.
+&#8220;Is she not your model, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. She&#8217;s in my room now, lying down. This
+morning it was pretty hot in here, and Dulcie fainted
+on the model stand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The poor child!&#8221; exclaimed Thessalie impulsively.
+&#8220;Could I go in and see her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, if you like,&#8221; he replied, surprised at her
+warm-hearted interest. He added, as Thessalie rose:
+&#8220;She is really all right again. But go in if you like.
+And you might tell Dulcie she can have her lunch in
+there if she wants it; but if she&#8217;s going to dress she
+ought to be about it, because it&#8217;s getting on toward
+the luncheon hour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Thessalie went swiftly away down the corridor to
+knock at the door of the bedroom, and Barres walked
+out with Westmore as far as the stairs.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jim,&#8221; he said very soberly, &#8220;this whole business
+looks ugly to me. Thessa seems to be seriously entangled
+in the meshes of some blackmailing spider who
+is sewing her up tight.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s probably a tighter web than we realise,&#8221;
+growled Westmore. &#8220;It looks to me as though Miss
+Dunois has been caught in the main net of German
+intrigue. And that the big spider in Berlin did the
+spinning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s certainly what it looks like,&#8221; admitted the
+other in a grave voice. &#8220;I don&#8217;t believe that this is
+merely a local matter&mdash;an affair of petty, personal
+vengeance: I believe that the Hun is actually afraid
+of her&mdash;afraid of the evidence she might be able to
+furnish against certain traitors in Paris.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore nodded gloomily:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m pretty sure of it, too. They&#8217;ve tried, apparently,
+to win her over. They&#8217;ve tried, also, to drive
+her out of this country. Now, they mean to force her
+out, or perhaps kill her! Good God! Garry, did
+you ever hear of such filthy impudence as this entire
+German propaganda in America?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go and get her trunks,&#8221; said Barres, deeply worried.
+&#8220;By the time you fetch &#8217;em back here, lunch will
+be ready. Afterward, we&#8217;d all better get together and
+talk over this unpleasant situation.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore glanced at his watch, turned and went
+swinging away in his quick, energetic stride. Barres
+walked slowly back to the studio.</p>
+<p>There was nobody there. Thessalie had not yet returned
+from her visit to Dulcie Soane.</p>
+<p>The Prophet, however, came in presently, his tail
+politely hoisted. An agreeable aroma from the kitchen
+had doubtless allured him; he made an amicable remark
+to Barres, suffered himself to be caressed, then
+sprang to the carved table&mdash;his favourite vantage
+point for observation&mdash;and gazed solemnly toward the
+dining-room.</p>
+<p>For half an hour or more, Barres fussed and pottered
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span>
+about in the rather aimless manner of all artists,
+shifting canvases and stacking them against the wall,
+twirling his wax Arethusa around to inspect her from
+every possible and impossible angle, using clouds of
+fixitive on such charcoal studies as required it, scraping
+away meditatively at a too long neglected palette.</p>
+<p>He was already frankly concerned about Thessalie,
+and the more he considered her situation the keener
+grew his apprehension.</p>
+<p>Yet he, like all his fellow Americans, had not yet
+actually persuaded himself to believe in spies.</p>
+<p>Of course he read about them and their machinations
+in the daily papers; the spy scare was already well
+developed in New York; yet, to him and to the great
+majority of his fellow countrymen, people who made a
+profession of such a dramatic business seemed unreal&mdash;abstract
+types, not concrete examples of the human
+race&mdash;and he could not believe in them&mdash;could neither
+visualise such people nor realise that they existed outside
+melodrama or the covers of a best-seller.</p>
+<p>There is an incredulity which knows yet refuses to
+believe in its own knowledge. It is very American and
+it represented the paradoxical state of mind of this
+deeply worried young man, as he stood there in the
+studio, scraping away mechanically at his crusted
+palette.</p>
+<p>Then, as he turned to lay it aside, through the open
+studio door he saw a strange, bespectacled man looking
+in at him intently.</p>
+<p>An unpleasant shock passed through him, and his
+instinct started him toward the open door to close it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse,&#8221; said he of the thick spectacles; and Barres
+stopped short:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what is it?&#8221; he asked sharply.</p>
+<p>The man, who was well dressed and powerfully built,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span>
+squinted through his spectacles out of little, inflamed
+and pig-like eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Dunois iss here?&#8221; he enquired politely. &#8220;I
+haff a message&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is your name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse, please. My name iss not personally known
+to Miss Dunois&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then what is your business with Miss Dunois?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse, please. It iss of a delicacy&mdash;of a nature
+quite private, iff you please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres inspected him in hostile silence for a moment,
+then came to a swift conclusion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well. Step inside,&#8221; he said briefly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thank you, I will wait here&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Step inside!&#8221; snapped Barres.</p>
+<p>Startled into silence, the man only blinked at him.
+Under the other&#8217;s searching, suspicious gaze, the small,
+pig-like eyes were now shifting uneasily; then, as Barres
+took an abrupt step forward, the man shrank away
+and stammered out something about a letter which he
+was to deliver to Miss Dunois in private.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You say you have a letter for Miss Dunois?&#8221; demanded
+Barres, now determined to get hold of him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am instructed to giff it myself to her in private,
+all alone&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give it to <i>me</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am instruc&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Give it to me, I tell you!&mdash;and come inside here!
+Do you hear what I&#8217;m saying to you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The spectacled man lost most of his colour as Barres
+started toward him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excuse!&#8221; he faltered, backing off down the corridor.
+&#8220;I giff you the letter!&#8221; And he hastily thrust
+his hand into the side pocket of his coat. But it was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span>
+a pistol he poked under the other&#8217;s nose&mdash;a shiny,
+lumpy weapon, clutched most unsteadily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hands up and turn me once around your back!&#8221;
+whispered the man hoarsely. &#8220;Quick!&mdash;or I shoot
+you!&#8221;&mdash;as the other, astounded, merely gazed at him.
+The man had already begun to back away again, but
+as Barres moved he stopped and cursed him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Put them up your hands!&#8221; snarled the spectacled
+man, with a final oath. &#8220;Keep your distance or I kill
+you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres heard himself saying, in a voice not much
+like his own:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t do this to me and get away with it! It&#8217;s
+nonsense! This sort of thing doesn&#8217;t go in New York!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Suddenly his mind grew coldly, terrible clear:</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, you <i>can&#8217;t</i> get away with it!&#8221; he concluded
+aloud, in the calm, natural voice of conviction. &#8220;Your
+stunt is scaring women! You try to keep clear of
+men&mdash;you dirty, blackmailing German crook! I&#8217;ve got
+your number! You&#8217;re the &#8216;Watcher&#8217;!&mdash;you murderous
+rat! You&#8217;re afraid to shoot!&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was plain that the spectacled man had not discounted
+anything of this sort&mdash;plain now, to Barres,
+that if, indeed, murder actually had been meant, it was
+not his own murder that had been planned with that
+big, blunt, silver-plated pistol, now wavering wildly before
+his eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I blow your face off!&#8221; whispered the stranger, beginning
+to back away again, and ghastly pale.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep out of thiss! I am not looking for you. Get
+you back; step once again inside that door away!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Barres had already jumped for him, had almost
+caught him, was reaching for him&mdash;when the man
+hurled the pistol straight at his face. The terrific
+impact of the heavy weapon striking him between the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
+eyes dazed him; he stumbled sideways, colliding with
+the wall, and he reeled around there a second.</p>
+<p>But that second&#8217;s leeway was enough for the bespectacled
+stranger. He turned and ran like a deer.
+And when Barres reached the staircase the whitewashed
+hall below was still echoing with the slam of
+the street grille.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, he hurried down, but found the desk-chair
+empty and Soane nowhere visible, and continued
+on to the outer door, more or less confused by the
+terrific blow on the head.</p>
+<p>Of course the bespectacled man had disappeared
+amid the noonday foot-farers now crowding both sidewalks
+east and west, on their way to lunch.</p>
+<p>Barres walked slowly back to the desk, still dazed,
+but now thoroughly enraged and painfully conscious
+of a heavy swelling where the blow had fallen on his
+forehead.</p>
+<p>In the superintendent&#8217;s quarters he found Soane,
+evidently just awakened after a sodden night at Grogan&#8217;s,
+trying to dress.</p>
+<p>Barres said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is nobody at the desk. Either you or Miss
+Kurtz should be on duty. That is the rule. Now, I&#8217;m
+going to tell you something: If I ever again find that
+desk without anybody behind it, I shall go to the owners
+of this building and tell them what sort of superintendent
+you are! And maybe I&#8217;ll tell the police, also!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Arrah, then, Misther Barres&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all!&#8221; said Barres, turning on his heel. &#8220;Anything
+more from you and you&#8217;ll find yourself in
+trouble!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And he went up stairs.</p>
+<p>The lumpy pistol still lay there in the corridor; he
+picked it up and took it into the studio. The weapon
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span>
+was fully loaded. It seemed to be of some foreign
+make&mdash;German or Austrian, he judged by the marking
+which had been almost erased, deliberately obliterated,
+it appeared to him.</p>
+<p>He placed it in his desk, seated himself, explored his
+bruises gingerly with cautious finger-tips, concluded
+that the bridge of his nose was not broken, then threw
+himself back in his armchair for some grim and concentrated
+thinking.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span>
+<a name='XVII_A_CONFERENCE' id='XVII_A_CONFERENCE'></a>
+<h2>XVII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />A CONFERENCE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The elegantly modulated accents of Aristocrates,
+announcing the imminence of luncheon, aroused
+Barres from disconcerted but wrathful reflections.</p>
+<p>As he sat up and tenderly caressed his battered head,
+Thessalie and Dulcie came slowly into the studio together,
+their arms interlaced.</p>
+<p>Both exclaimed at the sight of the young man&#8217;s
+swollen face, but he checked their sympathetic enquiries
+drily:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bumped into something. It&#8217;s nothing. How are
+you, Dulcie? All right again?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded, evidently much concerned about his disfigured
+forehead; so to terminate sympathetic advice
+he went away to bathe his bruises in witch hazel, and
+presently returned smelling strongly of that time-honoured
+panacea, and with a saturated handkerchief
+adorning his brow.</p>
+<p>At the same time, there came a considerable thumping
+and bumping from the corridor; the bell rang, and
+Westmore appeared with the trunks&mdash;five of them.
+These a pair of brawny expressmen rolled into the
+studio and carried thence to the storeroom which separated
+the bedroom and bath from the kitchen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any trouble?&#8221; enquired Barres of Westmore, when
+the expressmen had gone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;None at all. Nobody looked at me twice. What&#8217;s
+happened to your noddle?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Bumped it. Lunch is ready.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie came over to him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have included Dulcie among my confidants,&#8221; she
+said in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean you&#8217;ve told her&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everything. And I am glad I did.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres was silent; Thessalie passed her arm around
+Dulcie&#8217;s waist; the two men walked behind together.</p>
+<p>The table was a mass of flowers, over which netted
+sunlight played. Three cats assisted&mdash;the Prophet,
+always dignified, blinked pleasantly from a window
+ledge; the blond Houri, beside him, purred loudly. Only
+Strindberg was impossible, chasing her own tail under
+the patient feet of Aristocrates, or rolling over and
+over beneath the table in a mindless assault upon her
+own hind toes.</p>
+<p>Seated there in the quiet peace and security of the
+pleasant room, amid familiar things, with Aristocrates
+moving noiselessly about, sunlight lacing wall and ceiling,
+and the air aromatic with the scent of brilliant
+flowers, Barres tried in vain to realise that murder
+could throw its shadow over such a place&mdash;that its terrible
+menace could have touched his threshold, even for
+an instant.</p>
+<p>No, it was impossible. The fellow could not have
+intended murder. He was merely a blackmailer, suddenly
+detected and instantly frightened, pulling a gun
+in a panic, and even then failing in the courage to shoot.</p>
+<p>It enraged Barres to even think about it, but he
+could not bring himself to attach any darker significance
+to the incident than just that&mdash;a blackmailer,
+ready to display a gun, but not to use it, had come to
+bully a woman; had found himself unexpectedly
+trapped, and had behaved according to his kind.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span></div>
+<p>Barres had meant to catch him. But he admitted
+to himself that he had gone about it very unskilfully.
+This added disgust to his smouldering wrath, but he
+realised that he ought to tell the story.</p>
+<p>And after the rather subdued luncheon was ended,
+and everybody had gone out to the studio, he did tell
+it, deliberately including Dulcie in his audience, because
+he felt that she also ought to know.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And this is the present state of affairs,&#8221; he concluded,
+lighting a cigarette and flinging one knee across
+the other, &#8220;&mdash;&mdash;that my friend, Thessalie Dunois, who
+came here to escape the outrageous annoyance of a
+gang of blackmailers, is followed immediately and menaced
+with further insult on my very threshold.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This thing must stop. It&#8217;s going to be stopped.
+And I suggest that we discuss the matter now and decide
+how it ought to be handled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a silence, Westmore said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You had your nerve, Garry. I&#8217;m wondering what
+I might have done under the muzzle of that pistol.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s grey eyes had never left Barres. He encountered
+her gaze now; smiled at its anxious intensity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I made a botch of it, Sweetness, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221; he said
+lightly. And, to Westmore: &#8220;The moment I suspected
+him he was aware of it. Then, when I tried to figure
+out how to get him into the studio, it was too late.
+I made a mess of it, that&#8217;s all. And it&#8217;s too bad,
+Thessa, that I haven&#8217;t more sense.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She gently shook her head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t any sense, Garry. That man might
+easily have killed you, in spite of your coolness and
+courage&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. He was just a rat&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In a corner! You couldn&#8217;t tell what he&#8217;d do&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I could. He <i>didn&#8217;t</i> shoot. Moreover, he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span>
+legged it, which was exactly what I was certain he
+meant to do. Don&#8217;t worry about me, Thessa; if I
+didn&#8217;t have brains enough to catch him, at least I was
+clever enough to know it was safe to try.&#8221; He laughed.
+&#8220;There&#8217;s nothing of the hero about me; don&#8217;t think it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think that Dulcie and I know what to call your
+behaviour,&#8221; she said quietly, taking the silent girl&#8217;s
+hand in hers and resting it in her lap.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure; it was bull-headed pluck,&#8221; growled Westmore.
+&#8220;The drop is the drop, Garry, and you&#8217;re no
+mind-reader.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Barres persisted in taking it humorously:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I read that gentleman&#8217;s mind correctly, and his
+character, too.&#8221; Then, to Thessalie: &#8220;You say you
+don&#8217;t recognise him from my description?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She shook her head thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry,&#8221; said Westmore impatiently, &#8220;if we&#8217;re going
+to discuss various ways of putting an end to this
+business, what way do you suggest?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres lighted another cigarette:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been thinking. And I haven&#8217;t a notion how to
+go about it, unless we turn over the matter to the
+police. But Thessa doesn&#8217;t wish publicity,&#8221; he added,
+&#8220;so whatever is to be done we must do by ourselves.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie leaned forward from her seat on the lounge
+by Dulcie:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t ask that of you,&#8221; she remonstrated earnestly.
+&#8220;I only wanted to stay here for a little
+while&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You shall do that too,&#8221; said Westmore, &#8220;but this
+matter seems to involve something more than annoyance
+and danger to you. Those miserable rascals are
+Germans and they are carrying on their impudent intrigues,
+regardless of American laws and probably to
+the country&#8217;s detriment. How do we know what they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+are about? What else may they be up to? It seems
+to me that somebody had better investigate their activities&mdash;this
+one-eyed man, Freund&mdash;this handy gunman
+in spectacles&mdash;and whoever it was who took a shot
+at you the other day&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; said Barres, &#8220;and you and I are going
+to investigate. But how?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about Grogan&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a German joint now,&#8221; nodded Barres. &#8220;One
+of us might drop in there and look it over. Thessa,
+how do you think we ought to go about this affair?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie, who sat on the sofa with Dulcie&#8217;s hand
+clasped in both of hers&mdash;a new intimacy which still
+surprised and pleasantly perplexed Barres&mdash;said that
+she could not see that there was anything in particular
+for them to do, but that she herself intended to cease
+living alone for a while and refrain from going about
+town unaccompanied.</p>
+<p>Then it suddenly occurred to Barres that if he and
+Dulcie went to Foreland Farms, Thessalie should be
+invited also; otherwise, she&#8217;d be alone again, except for
+the servants, and possibly Westmore. And he said so.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This won&#8217;t do,&#8221; he insisted. &#8220;We four ought to
+remain in touch with one another for the present. If
+Dulcie and I go to Foreland Farms, you must come, too,
+Thessa; and you, Jim, ought to be there, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Nobody demurred; Barres, elated at the prospect,
+gave Thessalie a brief sketch of his family and their
+home.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s room for a regiment in the house,&#8221; he
+added, &#8220;and you will feel welcome and entirely at home.
+I&#8217;ll write my people to-night, if it&#8217;s settled. Is it,
+Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d adore it, Garry. I haven&#8217;t been in the country
+since I left France.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;And you, Jim?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet. I always have a wonderful time at Foreland.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, this is splendid!&#8221; exclaimed Barres, delighted.
+&#8220;If you disappear, Thessa, those German rats may become
+discouraged and give up hounding you. Anyway,
+you&#8217;ll have a quiet six weeks and a complete rest; and
+by that time Jim and I ought to devise some method of
+handling these vermin.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody,&#8221; said Thessalie, smiling, &#8220;has asked Dulcie&#8217;s
+opinion as to how this matter ought to be handled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres turned to meet Dulcie&#8217;s shy gaze.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell us what to do, Sweetness!&#8221; he said gaily. &#8220;It
+was stupid of me not to ask for your views.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a few moments the girl remained silent, then,
+the lovely tint deepening in her cheeks, she suggested
+diffidently that the people who were annoying Thessalie
+had been hired to do it by others more easy to handle,
+if discovered.</p>
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s silence, then Barres struck
+his palm with doubled fist:</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>That</i>,&#8221; he said with emphasis, &#8220;is the right way to
+approach this business! Hired thugs can be handled
+in only two ways&mdash;beat &#8217;em up or call in the police.
+And we can do neither.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the men higher up&mdash;the men who inspire and
+hire these rats&mdash;they can be dealt with in other ways.
+You&#8217;re right, Dulcie! You&#8217;ve started us on the only
+proper path!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Considerably excited, now, as vague ideas crowded
+in upon him, he sat smiting his knees, his brows knit
+in concentrated thought, aware that they were on the
+right track, but that the track was but a blind trail
+so far.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></div>
+<p>Dulcie ventured to interrupt his frowning cogitation:</p>
+<p>&#8220;People of position and influence who hire men to
+do unworthy things are cowards at heart. To discover
+them is to end the whole matter, I think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re absolutely right, Sweetness! Wait! I begin
+to see&mdash;to see things&mdash;see something&mdash;interesting&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked up at Thessalie:</p>
+<p>&#8220;D&#8217;Eblis, Ferez Bey, Von-der-Goltz Pasha, Excellenz,
+Berlin&mdash;all these were mixed up with this German-American
+banker, Adolf Gerhardt, were they
+not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was Gerhardt&#8217;s money, I am sure, that bought
+the <i>Mot d&#8217;Ordre</i> from d&#8217;Eblis for Ferez&mdash;that is, for
+Berlin,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean,&#8221; asked Westmore, &#8220;the New York
+banker, Adolf Gerhardt, of Gerhardt, Klein &amp;
+Schwartzmeyer, who has that big show place at Northbrook?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres smiled at him significantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you know about that, Jim! If we go to
+Foreland we&#8217;re certain to be asked to the Gerhardt&#8217;s!
+They&#8217;re part of the Northbrook set; they&#8217;re received
+everywhere. They entertain the personnel of the German
+and Austrian Embassies. Probably their place,
+Hohenlinden, is a hotbed of German intrigue and propaganda!
+Thessa, how about you? Would you care
+to risk recognition in Gerhardt&#8217;s drawing-room, and
+see what information you could pick up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie&#8217;s cheeks grew bright pink, and her dark
+eyes were full of dancing light:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry, I&#8217;d adore it! I told you I had never been
+a spy. And that is absolutely true. But if you think
+I am sufficiently intelligent to do anything to help my
+country, I&#8217;ll try. And I don&#8217;t care how I do it,&#8221; she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
+added, with her sweet, reckless little laugh, and squeezed
+Dulcie&#8217;s hand tightly between her fingers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you suppose Gerhardt would remember you?&#8221;
+asked Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think so. I don&#8217;t believe anybody would
+recollect me. If anybody there ever saw Nihla Quellen,
+it wouldn&#8217;t worry me, because Nihla Quellen is merely
+a memory if anything, and only Ferez and d&#8217;Eblis know
+I am alive and here&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And their hired agents,&#8221; added Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. But such people would not be guests of Adolf
+Gerhardt at Northbrook.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez Bey might be his guest.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What of it!&#8221; she laughed. &#8220;I was never afraid of
+Ferez&mdash;never! He is a jackal always. A threatening
+gesture and he flees! No, I do not fear Ferez Bey,
+but I think he is horribly afraid of me.... I think,
+perhaps, he has orders to do me very serious harm&mdash;and
+dares not. No, Ferez Bey comes sniffing around
+after the fight is over. He does no fighting, not Ferez!
+He slinks outside the smoke. When it clears away and
+night comes he ventures forth to feed furtively on what
+is left. That is Ferez&mdash;my Ferez on whom I would
+not use a dog-whip&mdash;no!&mdash;merely a slight gesture&mdash;and
+he is gone like a swift shadow in the dark!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fascinated by the transformation in her, the other
+three sat gazing at Thessalie in silence. Her colour
+was high, her dark eyes sparkled, her lips glowed. And
+the superb young figure so celebrated in Europe, so
+straight and virile, seemed instinct with the reckless
+gaity and courage which rang out in her full-throated
+laughter as she ended with a gesture and a snap of
+her white fingers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For my country&mdash;for France, whose generous mind
+has been poisoned against me&mdash;I would do anything&mdash;anything!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
+she said. &#8220;If you think, Garry, that I have
+wit enough to balk d&#8217;Eblis, check Ferez, confuse the
+plotters in Berlin&mdash;well, then!&mdash;I shall try. If you say
+it is right, then I shall become what I never have been&mdash;a
+spy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She sat for a moment smiling in her flushed excitement.
+Nobody spoke. Then her expression altered,
+subtlely, and her dark eyes grew pensive.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; she said wistfully, &#8220;if I could serve my
+country in some little way, France might believe me
+loyal.... I have sometimes wished I might have a
+chance to prove it. There is nothing I would not risk
+if only France would come to believe in me.... But
+there seemed to be no chance for me. It is death for
+me to go there now, with that dossier in the secret
+archives and a Senator of France to swear my life
+away&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you like,&#8221; said Westmore, very red again, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+go into the business, too, and help you nail some of
+these Hun plotters. I&#8217;ve nothing better to do; I&#8217;d be
+delighted to help you land a Hun or two.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m with you both, heart and soul!&#8221; said Barres.
+&#8220;The whole country is rotten with Boche intrigue.
+Who knows what we may uncover at Northbrook?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie rose and came over to where Barres sat, and
+he reached up without turning around, and gave her
+hand a friendly little squeeze.</p>
+<p>She bent over beside him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Could I help?&#8221; she asked in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet, Sweetness! Did you think you were being
+left out?&#8221; And he drew her closer and passed one arm
+absently around her as he began speaking again to
+Westmore:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It seems to me that we ought to stumble on something
+at Northbrook worth following up, if we go about
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span>
+it circumspectly, Jim&mdash;with all that Austrian and German
+Embassy gang coming and going during the summer,
+and this picturesque fellow, Murtagh Skeel, being
+lionised by&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s sudden start checked him and he looked up
+at her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Murtagh Skeel, the Irish poet and patriot,&#8221; he
+repeated, &#8220;who wants to lead a Clan-na-Gael raid into
+Canada or head a death-battalion to free Ireland.
+You&#8217;ve read about him in the papers, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes ... I want to talk to you alone&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She
+blushed and dropped a confused little curtsey to Thessalie:
+&#8220;Would you please pardon my rudeness&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You darling!&#8221; said Thessalie, blowing her a swift,
+gay kiss. &#8220;Go and talk to your best friend in peace!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres rose and walked away slowly beside Dulcie.
+They stood still when out of earshot. She said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have a few of my mother&#8217;s letters.... She knew
+a young man whose name was Murtagh Skeel.... He
+was her dear friend. But only in secret. Because I
+think her father and mother disliked him.... It
+would seem so from her letters and his.... And she
+was&mdash;in love with him.... And he with mother....
+Then&mdash;I don&#8217;t know.... But she came to America
+with father. That is all I know. Do you believe he
+can be the same man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Murtagh Skeel,&#8221; repeated Barres. &#8220;It&#8217;s an unusual
+name. Possibly he is the same man whom your
+mother knew. I should say he might have been about
+your mother&#8217;s age, Dulcie. He is a romantic figure
+now&mdash;one of those dreamy, graceful, impractical
+patriots&mdash;an enthusiast with one idea and that an
+impossible one!&mdash;the freedom of Ireland wrenched by
+force from the traditional tyrant, England.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He thought a moment, then:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Whatever the fault, and wherever lies the blame
+for Ireland&#8217;s unrest to-day, this is no time to start rebellion.
+Who strikes at England now strikes at all
+Freedom in the world. Who conspires against England
+to-day conspires with barbarism against civilisation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My outspoken sympathy of yesterday must remain
+unspoken to-day. And if it be insisted on, then it will
+surely change and become hostility. No, Dulcie; the
+line of cleavage is clean: it is Light against Darkness,
+Right against Might, Truth against Falsehood, and
+Christ against Baal!</p>
+<p>&#8220;This man, Murtagh Skeel, is a dreamer, a monomaniac,
+and a dangerous fanatic, for all his winning
+and cultivated personality and the personal purity of
+his character.... It is an odd coincidence if he was
+once your mother&#8217;s friend&mdash;and her suitor, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie stood before him, her head a trifle lowered,
+listening to what he said. When he ended, she looked
+up at him, then across the studio where Westmore had
+taken her place on the sofa beside Thessalie. They
+both seemed to be absorbed in a conversation which
+interested them immensely.</p>
+<p>Dulcie hesitated, then ventured to take possession
+of Barres&#8217; arm:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Could you and I sit down over here by ourselves?&#8221;
+she asked.</p>
+<p>He smiled, always amused by her increasing confidence
+and affection, and always a little touched by it,
+so plainly she revealed herself, so quaintly&mdash;sometimes
+very quietly and shyly, sometimes with an ardent impulse
+too swift for self-conscious second thoughts which
+might have checked her.</p>
+<p>So they seated themselves in the carved compartments
+of an ancient choir-stall and she rested one elbow
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span>
+on the partition between them and set her rounded
+chin in her palm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You pretty thing,&#8221; he said lightly.</p>
+<p>At that she blushed and smiled in the confused way
+she had when teased. And at such times she never
+looked at him&mdash;never even pretended to sustain his
+laughing gaze or brave out her own embarrassment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t torment you, Sweetness,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Only
+you ought not to let me, you know. It&#8217;s a temptation
+to make you blush; you do it so prettily.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; she said, still smiling but vividly disconcerted
+again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, dear! I won&#8217;t. I&#8217;m a brute and a bully.
+But honestly, you ought not to let me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know how to stop you,&#8221; she admitted, laughing.
+&#8220;I could kill myself for being so silly. Why is it,
+do you suppose, that I blu&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She checked herself, scarlet now, and sat motionless
+with her head bent over her clenched palm, and her
+lip bitten till it quivered. Perhaps a flash of sudden
+insight had answered her own question before she had
+even finished asking it. And the answer had left her
+silent, rigid, as though not daring to move. But her
+bitten lip trembled, and her breath, which had stopped,
+came swiftly now, desperately controlled. But there
+seemed to be no control for her violent little heart,
+which was racing away and setting every pulse a faster
+pace.</p>
+<p>Barres, more uneasy than amused, now, and having
+before this very unwillingly suspected Dulcie of an
+exaggerated sentiment concerning him, inspected her
+furtively and sideways.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t tease you any more,&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+sorry. But you understand, Sweetness; it&#8217;s just a
+friendly tease&mdash;just because we&#8217;re such good friends.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she nodded breathlessly. &#8220;Don&#8217;t notice me,
+please. I don&#8217;t seem to know how to behave myself
+when I&#8217;m with you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What nonsense, Dulcie! You&#8217;re a wonderful comrade.
+We have bully times when we&#8217;re together.
+Don&#8217;t we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, for the love of Mike! What&#8217;s a little
+teasing between friends? Buck up, Sweetness, and
+don&#8217;t ever let me upset you again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221; She turned and looked at him, laughed.
+But there was a wonderful beauty in her grey eyes
+and he noticed it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You little kiddie,&#8221; he said, &#8220;your eyes are all starry
+like a baby&#8217;s! You are not growing up as fast as you
+think you are!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She laughed again deliciously:</p>
+<p>&#8220;How wise you are,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aha! So you&#8217;re joshing me, now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But aren&#8217;t you very, very wise?&#8221; she asked demurely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet I am. And I&#8217;m going to prove it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How, please?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen, irreverent youngster! If you are going to
+Foreland Farms with me, you will require various species
+of clothes and accessories.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that she was frankly dismayed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I can&#8217;t afford&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Piffle! I advance you sufficient salary. Thessalie
+had better advise you in your shopping&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He hesitated,
+then: &#8220;You and Thessa seem to have become
+excellent friends rather suddenly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She was so sweet to me,&#8221; explained Dulcie. &#8220;I
+hadn&#8217;t cared for her very much&mdash;that evening of the
+party&mdash;but to-day she came into your room, where I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
+was lying on the bed, and she stood looking at me
+for a moment and then she said, &#8216;Oh, you darling!&#8217;
+and dropped on her knees and drew me into her arms....
+Wasn&#8217;t that a curious thing to happen? I&mdash;I
+was too surprised to speak for a minute; then the loveliest
+shiver came over me and I&mdash;I cuddled up close to
+her&mdash;because I had never remembered being in mother&#8217;s
+arms&mdash;and it seemed wonderful&mdash;I had wanted it so&mdash;dreamed
+sometimes&mdash;and awoke and cried myself to
+sleep again.... She was so sweet to me.... We
+talked.... She told me, finally, about the reason of
+her visit to you. Then she told me about herself....
+So I became her friend very quickly. And I am sure
+that I am going to love her dearly.... And when
+I love&#8221;&mdash;she looked steadily away from him&mdash;&#8220;I would
+die to serve&mdash;my friend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s quiet ardour, her simplicity and candour,
+attracted and interested him. Always he had seemed
+to be aware, in her, of hidden forces&mdash;of something
+fresh and charmingly impetuous held in leash&mdash;of controlled
+impulses, restless, uneasy, bitted, curbed, and
+reined in.</p>
+<p>Pride, perhaps, a natural reticence in the opposite
+sex&mdash;perhaps the habit of control in a girl whose childhood
+had had no outlet&mdash;some of these, he concluded,
+accounted for her subdued air, her restraint from demonstration.
+Save for the impulsive little hand on his
+arm at times, the slightest quiver of lip and voice,
+there was no sign of the high-strung, fresh young force
+that he vaguely divined within her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie,&#8221; he said, &#8220;how much do you know about
+the romance of your mother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She lifted her grey eyes to his:</p>
+<p>&#8220;What romance?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, her marriage.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Was that a romance?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I gather, from your father, that your mother was
+very much above him in station.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He was a gamekeeper for my grandfather.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What was your mother&#8217;s name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eileen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean her family name.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fane.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was silent. She remained thoughtful, her chin
+resting between two fingers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Once,&#8221; she murmured, as though speaking to herself,
+&#8220;when my father was intoxicated, he said that
+Fane is my name, not Soane.... Do you know what
+he meant?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.... His name is Soane, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what do you suppose he meant, if he meant
+anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t quite know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He <i>is</i> your father, isn&#8217;t he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She shook her head slowly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sometimes, when he is intoxicated, he says that he
+isn&#8217;t. And once he added that my name is not Soane
+but Fane.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you question him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. He only cries when he is that way.... Or
+talks about Ireland&#8217;s wrongs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ask him some time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have asked him when he was sober. But he denied
+ever saying it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then ask him when he&#8217;s the other way. I&mdash;well,
+to be frank, Dulcie, you haven&#8217;t the slightest resemblance
+to your father&mdash;not the slightest&mdash;not in any
+mental or physical particular.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He says I&#8217;m like mother.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;And her name was Eileen Fane,&#8221; murmured Barres.
+&#8220;She must have been beautiful, Dulcie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She was&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; A bright blush stained her face, but
+this time she looked steadily at Barres and neither of
+them smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She was in love with Murtagh Skeel,&#8221; said Dulcie.
+&#8220;I wonder why she did not marry him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You say her family objected.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but what of that, if she loved him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But even in those days he may have been a troublemaker
+and revolutionist&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does that matter if a girl is in love?&#8221;</p>
+<p>In Dulcie&#8217;s voice there was again that breathless
+tone through which something rang faintly&mdash;something
+curbed back, held in restraint.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose,&#8221; he said, smiling, &#8220;that if one is in love
+nothing else matters.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing matters,&#8221; she said, half to herself. And
+he looked askance at her, and looked again with
+increasing curiosity.</p>
+<p>Westmore called across the room:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessalie and I are going shopping! Any objections?&#8221;</p>
+<p>A sudden and totally unexpected dart seemed to
+penetrate the heart region of Garret Barres. It was
+jealousy and it hurt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No objection at all,&#8221; he said, wondering how the
+devil Westmore had become so familiar with her name
+in such a very brief encounter.</p>
+<p>Thessalie rose and came over:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie, will you come with us?&#8221; she asked gaily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a first rate idea,&#8221; said Barres, cheering up.
+&#8220;Dulcie, tell her what things you have and she&#8217;ll tell
+you what you need for Foreland Farms.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed I will,&#8221; cried Thessalie. &#8220;We&#8217;ll make her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span>
+perfectly adorable in a most economical manner. Shall
+we, dear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And she held out her hand to Dulcie, and, smiling,
+turned her head and looked across the room at Westmore.</p>
+<p>Which troubled Barres and left him rather silent
+there in the studio after they had gone away. For
+he had rather fancied himself as the romance in Thessalie&#8217;s
+life, and, at times, was inclined to sentimentalise
+a little about her.</p>
+<p>And now he permitted himself to wonder how much
+there really might be to that agreeable sentiment he
+entertained for, perhaps, the prettiest girl he had ever
+met in his life, and, possibly, the most delightful.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span>
+<a name='XVIII_THE_BABBLER' id='XVIII_THE_BABBLER'></a>
+<h2>XVIII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE BABBLER</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The double apartment in Dragon Court, swept
+by such vagrant July breezes as wandered into
+the heated city, had become lively with preparations
+for departure.</p>
+<p>Barres fussed about, collecting sketching paraphernalia,
+choosing brushes, colours, canvases, field kits,
+and costumes from his accumulated store, and boxing
+them for transportation to Foreland Farms, with the
+languid assistance of Aristocrates.</p>
+<p>Westmore had only to ship a modelling stand, a
+handful of sculptors&#8217; tools, and a ton or two of Plasteline,
+an evil-smelling composite clay, very useful to
+work with.</p>
+<p>But the storm centre of preparation revolved around
+Dulcie. And Thessalie, enchanted with her new rôle
+as adviser, bargainer, and purchaser, and always attaching
+either Westmore or Barres to her skirts when
+she and Dulcie sallied forth, was selecting and accumulating
+a charming and useful little impedimenta.
+For the young girl had never before owned a single
+pretty thing, except those first unpremeditated gifts
+of Barres&#8217;, and her happiness in these expeditions was
+alloyed with trepidation at Thessalie&#8217;s extravagance,
+and deep misgivings concerning her ultimate ability to
+repay out of the salary allowed her as a private model.</p>
+<p>Intoxicated by ownership, she watched Thessalie and
+Selinda laying away in her brand-new trunk the lovely
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span>
+things which had been selected. And one day, thrilled
+but bewildered, she went into the studio, where Barres
+sat opening his mail, and confessed her fear that only
+lifelong devotion in his service could ever liquidate her
+overwhelming financial obligations to him.</p>
+<p>He had begun to laugh when she opened the subject:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa is managing it,&#8221; he said. &#8220;It looks like a
+lot of expense, but it isn&#8217;t. Don&#8217;t worry about it,
+Sweetness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I <i>do</i> worry&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, what a ridiculous thing to do!&#8221; he interrupted.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s merely advanced salary&mdash;your own
+money. I told you to blow it; I&#8217;m responsible. And
+I shall arrange it so you won&#8217;t notice that you are repaying
+the loan. All I want you to do is to have
+a good time about it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am having a good time&mdash;when it doesn&#8217;t scare
+me to spend so much for&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you trust Thessa and me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl dropped to her knees beside his chair in
+a swift passion of gratitude:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I trust you&mdash;I do&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; But she could not
+utter another word, and only pressed her face against
+his arm in the tense silence of emotions which were too
+powerful to express, too deep and keen to comprehend
+or to endure.</p>
+<p>And she sprang to her feet, flushed, confused, turning
+from him as he retained one hand and drew her
+back:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear child,&#8221; he said, in his pleasant voice, &#8220;this
+is really a very little thing I do for you, compared to
+the help you have given me by hard, unremitting, uncomplaining
+physical labour and endurance. There is
+no harder work than holding a pose for painter or
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span>
+sculptor&mdash;nothing more cruelly fatiguing. Add to that
+your cheerfulness, your willingness, your quiet, loyal,
+unobtrusive companionship&mdash;and the freshness and inspiration
+and interest ever new which you always awake
+in me&mdash;tell me, Sweetness, are you really in my debt,
+or am I in yours?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am in yours. You made me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You always say that. It&#8217;s foolish. You made
+yourself, Dulcie. You are making yourself all the
+while. Why, good heavens!&mdash;if you hadn&#8217;t had it in
+you, somehow, to ignore your surroundings&mdash;take the
+school opportunities offered you&mdash;close your eyes and
+ears to the sights and sounds and habits of what was
+supposed to be your home&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He checked himself, thinking of Soane, and his
+brogue, and his ignorance and his habits.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How the devil you escaped it all I can&#8217;t understand,&#8221;
+he muttered to himself. &#8220;Even when I first
+knew you, there was nothing resembling your&mdash;your
+father about you&mdash;even if you were almost in rags!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had been with the Sisters until I went to high
+school,&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;It makes a difference in a
+child&#8217;s mind what is said and thought by those around
+her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course. But, Dulcie, it is usually the unfortunate
+rule that the lower subtly contaminates the higher,
+even in casual association&mdash;that the weaker gradually
+undermines the stronger until it sinks to lesser
+levels. It has not been so with you. Your clear mind
+remained untarnished, your aspiration uncontaminated.
+Somewhere within you had been born the quality
+of recognition; and when your eyes opened on better
+things you recognised them and did not forget
+after they disappeared&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again he ceased speaking, aware, suddenly, that for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span>
+the first time he was making the effort to analyse this
+girl for his own information. Heretofore, he had accepted
+her, sometimes curious, sometimes amused, puzzled,
+doubtful, even uneasy as her mind revealed itself
+by degrees and her character glimmered through in
+little fitful gleams from that still hidden thing, herself.</p>
+<p>He began to speak again, before he knew he was
+speaking&mdash;indeed, as though within him somewhere
+another man were using his lips and voice as vehicles:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know, Dulcie, it&#8217;s not going to end&mdash;our companionship.
+Your real life is all ahead of you; it&#8217;s
+already beginning&mdash;the life which is properly yours to
+shape and direct and make the most of.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what kind of life yours is going to
+be; I know, merely, that your career doesn&#8217;t lie down
+stairs in the superintendent&#8217;s lodgings. And this life
+of ours here in the studio is only temporary, only a
+phase of your development toward clearer aims, higher
+aspiration, nobler effort.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tranquillity, self-respect, intelligent responsibility,
+the happiness of personal independence are the prizes:
+the path on which you have started leads to the only
+pleasure man has ever really known&mdash;labour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked down at her hand lying within his own,
+stroked the slender fingers thoughtfully, noticing the
+whiteness and fineness of them, now that they had
+rested for three months from their patient martyrdom
+in Soane&#8217;s service.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll talk to my mother and sister about it,&#8221; he concluded.
+&#8220;All you need is a start in whatever you&#8217;re
+going to do in life. And you bet you&#8217;re going to get it,
+Sweetness!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He patted her hand, laughed, and released it. She
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span>
+couldn&#8217;t speak just then&mdash;she tried to as she stood
+there, head averted and grey eyes brilliant with tears&mdash;but
+she could not utter a sound.</p>
+<p>Perhaps aware that her overcharged heart was meddling
+with her voice, he merely smiled as he watched
+her moving slowly back to Thessalie&#8217;s room, where the
+magic trunk was being packed. Then he turned to
+his letters again. One was from his mother:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;Garry darling, anybody you bring to Foreland is always
+welcome, as you know. Your family never inquires of
+its members concerning any guests they may see fit to
+invite. Bring Miss Dunois and Dulcie Soane, your little
+model, if you like. There&#8217;s a world of room here; nobody
+ever interferes with anybody else. You and your guests
+have two thousand acres to roam about in, ride over, fish
+over, paint over. There&#8217;s plenty for everybody to do, alone
+or in company.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your father is well. He looks little older than you.
+He&#8217;s fishing most of the time, or busy reforesting that
+sandy region beyond the Foreland hills.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your sister and I ride as usual and continue to improve
+the breeds of the various domestic creatures in which we
+are interested and you are not.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The pheasants are doing well this year, and we&#8217;re beginning
+to turn them out with their foster-mothers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your father wishes me to tell you and Jim Westmore
+that the trout fishing is still fairly good, although it was
+better, of course, in May and June.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The usual parties and social amenities continue in
+Northbrook. Everybody included in that colony seems to
+have arrived, also the usual influx of guests, and there is
+much entertaining, tennis, golf, dances&mdash;the invariable card
+always offered there.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Claire and I go enough to keep from being too completely
+forgotten. Your father seldom bothers himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Also, the war in Europe has made us, at Foreland, disinclined
+to frivolity. Others, too, of the older society in
+Northbrook are more subdued than usual, devote themselves
+to quieter pursuits. And those among us who have sons of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
+military age are prone to take life soberly in these strange,
+oppressive days when even under sunny skies in this land
+aloof from war, all are conscious of the tension, the vague
+foreboding, the brooding stillness that sometimes heralds
+storms.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But all north-country folk do not feel this way. The
+Gerhardts, for example, are very gay with a house full
+of guests and overflowing week-ends. The German Embassy,
+as always, is well represented at Hohenlinden. Your
+father won&#8217;t go there at all now. As for Claire and myself,
+we await political ruptures before we indulge in social
+ones. And it doesn&#8217;t look like war, now that Von Tirpitz
+has been sent to Coventry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This, Garry darling, is my budget of news. Bring
+your guests whenever you please. You wouldn&#8217;t bring anybody
+you oughtn&#8217;t to; your family is liberal, informal,
+pleasantly indifferent, and always delightfully busy with
+its individual manias and fads; so come as soon as you
+please&mdash;sooner, please&mdash;because, strange as it may seem,
+your mother would like to see you.&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>The letter was what he had expected. But, as always,
+it made him very grateful.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wonderful mother I have,&#8221; he murmured, opening
+another letter from his father:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Dear Garret</span>:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why the devil don&#8217;t you come up? You&#8217;ve missed the
+cream of the fishing. There&#8217;s nothing doing in the streams
+now, but at sunrise and toward evening they&#8217;re breaking
+nicely in the lake.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve put in sixty thousand three-year transplants this
+year on that sandy stretch. They are white, Scotch and
+Austrian. Your children will enjoy them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The dogs are doing well. There&#8217;s one youngster, the
+litter-tyrant of Goldenrod&#8217;s brood, who ought to make a
+field winner. But there&#8217;s no telling. You and I&#8217;ll have &#8217;em
+out on native woodcock.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are some grouse, but we ought to let them alone
+for the next few years. As for the pheasants, they&#8217;re everywhere
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span>
+now, in the brake, silver-grass, and weeds, peeping,
+scurrying, creeping&mdash;cunning little beggars and growing
+wild as quail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The horses are all right. The crops promise well. Labour
+is devilish scarce, and unsatisfactory when induced
+to accept preposterous wages. What we need are coolies,
+if these lazy, native slackers continue to handicap the
+farmers who have to employ them. The American &#8216;hired
+man&#8217;! He makes me sick. With few exceptions, he is
+incredibly stupid, ignorant, unwilling, lazy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s sometimes a crook, too; he takes pay for what he
+doesn&#8217;t do; he steals your time; he cares absolutely nothing
+about your interests or convenience; he will leave you
+stranded in harvest time, without any notice at all; decent
+treatment he does not appreciate; he&#8217;ll go without a warning
+even, leaving your horses unfed, your cattle unwatered,
+your crops rotting!</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a degenerate relic of those real men who broke
+up the primæval wilderness. He is the reason for high
+prices, the cause of agricultural and industrial distress,
+the inert, sodden, fermenting, indigestible mass in the
+belly of the body-politic!</p>
+<p>&#8220;The American hired man! If the country doesn&#8217;t spew
+him up, he&#8217;ll kill it!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you&#8217;ve heard me before on this subject, Garret.
+I&#8217;m likely to air my views, you know.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, my son, I look forward to your arrival. I am glad
+that Westmore is coming with you. As for your other
+guests, they are welcome, of course.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;Your father,</p>
+<p class='sig2'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Reginald Barres</span>.&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>He laughed; this letter so perfectly revealed his
+father.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dad and his trout and his birds and his pines and
+his eternally accursed hired help,&#8221; he said to himself,
+&#8220;Dad and his monocle and his immaculate attire&mdash;the
+finest man who ever fussed!&#8221; And he laughed tenderly
+to himself as he broke the seal of his sister&#8217;s brief
+note:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></div>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;Garry dear, I&#8217;ve been so busy schooling horses and
+dancing that I&#8217;ve had no time for letter writing. So glad
+you&#8217;re coming at last. Bring along any good novels you
+see. My best to Jim. Your guests can be well mounted,
+if they ride. Father is wild because there are more foxes
+than usual, but he&#8217;s promised not to treat them as vermin,
+and the Northbrook pack is to hunt our territory this season,
+after all. Poor Dad! He is a brick, isn&#8217;t he?&#8221;</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;Affectionately,</p>
+<p class='sig2'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Lee</span>.&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Barres pocketed his sheaf of letters and began to
+stroll about the studio, whistling the air of some recent
+musical atrocity.</p>
+<p>Westmore, in his own room, composing verses&mdash;a
+secret vice unsuspected by Barres&mdash;bade him &#8220;Shut
+up!&#8221;&mdash;the whistling no doubt ruining his metre.</p>
+<p>But Barres, with politest intentions, forgot himself
+so many times that the other man locked up his &#8220;Lines
+to Thessalie when she was sewing on a button for me,&#8221;
+and came into the studio.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is she?&#8221; he inquired naïvely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s who?&#8221; demanded Barres, still sensitive
+over the increasing intimacy of this headlong young
+man and Thessalie Dunois.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In there fussing with Dulcie&#8217;s togs. Go ahead in,
+if you care to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is your stuff packed up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres nodded:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is yours?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Most of it. How many trunks is Thessa taking?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do I know?&#8221; said Barres, with a trace of irritation.
+&#8220;She&#8217;s at liberty to take as many as she
+likes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore didn&#8217;t notice the irritation; his mind was
+entirely occupied by Thessalie&mdash;an intellectual condition
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span>
+which had recently become rather painfully apparent
+to Barres, and, doubtless, equally if not painfully
+apparent to Thessalie herself.</p>
+<p>Probably Dulcie noticed it, too, but gave no sign,
+except when the serious grey eyes stole toward Barres
+at times, as though vaguely apprehensive that he might
+not be entirely in sympathy with Westmore&#8217;s enchanted
+state of mind.</p>
+<p>As for Thessalie, though Westmore&#8217;s naïve and increasing
+devotion could scarcely escape her notice, it
+was utterly impossible to tell how it affected her&mdash;whether,
+indeed, it made any impression at all.</p>
+<p>For there seemed to be no difference in her attitude
+toward these two men; it was plain enough that she
+liked them both&mdash;that she believed in them implicitly,
+was happy with them, tranquil now in her new security,
+and deeply penetrated with gratitude for their
+kindness to her in her hour of need.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>&#8220;Come on in,&#8221; coaxed Westmore, linking his arm
+in Barres&#8217;, and counting on the latter to give him countenance.</p>
+<p>The arm of Barres remained rigid and unresponsive,
+but his legs were reluctantly obliging and carried
+him along with Westmore to what had been his own
+room before Thessalie had installed herself there.</p>
+<p>And there she was on her knees, amid a riot of lingerie
+and feminine effects, while Dulcie lovingly
+smoothed out and folded object after object which
+Selinda placed between layers of pale blue tissue paper
+in the trunks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How are things going, Thessa?&#8221; inquired Westmore,
+in the hearty, cheerful voice of the intruder who
+hopes to be made welcome. But her attitude was discouraging.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;You know you are only in the way,&#8221; she said.
+&#8220;Drive him out, Dulcie!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie laughed and looked at them both with shyly
+friendly eyes:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is my trousseau not beautiful?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;If
+you&#8217;ll step outside I&#8217;ll put on a hat and gown for
+you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Dulcie!&#8221; protested Thessalie, &#8220;I want you to
+dawn upon them, and a dress rehearsal would spoil
+it all!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore tiptoed around amid lovely, frail mounds
+of fabrics, until ordered to an empty chair and forbidden
+further motion. It was all the same to him, so
+long as his fascinated gaze could rest on Thessalie.</p>
+<p>Which further annoyed Barres, and he backed out
+and walked to the studio, considerably disturbed in
+his mind.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That man,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;is making an ass of himself,
+hanging around Thessa like a half-witted child.
+She can&#8217;t help noticing it, but she doesn&#8217;t seem to do
+anything about it. I don&#8217;t know why she doesn&#8217;t
+squelch him&mdash;unless she likes it&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; But the idea
+was so unpleasant to Barres that he instantly abandoned
+that train of thought and prepared for himself
+a comfortable nest on the lounge, a pipe, and an uncut
+volume of flimsy summer fiction.</p>
+<p>In the middle of these somewhat sullen preparations,
+there came a ring at his studio door. Only the superintendent
+or strangers rang that bell as a rule, and
+Barres went to his desk, slipped his loaded pistol into
+his coat pocket, then walked to the door and opened it.</p>
+<p>Soane stood there, his face a shiny-red from drink,
+his legs steady enough. As usual when drunk, he was
+inclined to be garrulous.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; inquired Barres in a low voice.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Wisha, Misther Barres, sorr, av ye&#8217;re not too busy
+f&#8217;r to&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;S-h-h! Don&#8217;t bellow at the top of your voice.
+Wait a moment!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He picked up his hat and came out into the corridor,
+closing the studio door behind him so that Dulcie,
+if she appeared on the scene, should not be humiliated
+before the others.</p>
+<p>Soane began again, but the other cut him short:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t start talking here,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Come down
+to your own quarters if you&#8217;re going to yell your head
+off!&#8221; And he led the way, impatiently, down the stairs,
+past the desk where Miss Kurtz sat stolid and mottled-faced
+as a lump of uncooked sausage, and into
+Soane&#8217;s quarters.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, you listen to me first!&#8221; he said when Soane
+had entered and he had closed the door behind them.
+&#8220;You keep out of my apartment and out of Dulcie&#8217;s
+way, too, when you&#8217;re drunk! You&#8217;re not going to
+last very long on this job; I can see that plainly&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Faith, sorr, you&#8217;re right! I&#8217;m fired out entirely
+this blessed minute!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve been discharged?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have that, sorr!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What for? Drunkenness?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Th&#8217; divil do I know phwat for! Wisha, then, Misther
+Barres, is there anny harrm av a man&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, there is! I told you Grogan&#8217;s would do the
+trick for you. Now you&#8217;re discharged without a reference,
+I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane smiled airily:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Misther Barres, dear, don&#8217;t lave that worrit ye!
+I want no riference from anny landlord. Sure, landlords
+is tyrants, too! An&#8217; phwat the divil should I
+be wantin&#8217;&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;What are you going to do then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane hooked both thumbs into the armholes of his
+vest, and swaggered about the room:</p>
+<p>&#8220;God bless yer kind heart, sorr, I&#8217;ve a-plenty to do
+and more for good measure!&#8221; He came up to confront
+Barres, and laid a mysterious finger alongside his
+over-red nose and began to brag:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s thim in high places as looks afther the
+likes o&#8217; me, sorr. There&#8217;s thim that thrusts me, thim
+that depinds on me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you another job?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane&#8217;s scorn was superb:</p>
+<p>&#8220;A job is ut? Misther Barres, dear, I was injuced
+f&#8217;r to accept a <i>position</i> of grave importance!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here in town?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somewhere around tin thousand miles away or
+thereabouts,&#8221; remarked Soane airily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean to take Dulcie with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Musha, then, Misther Barres, &#8217;tis why I come to
+ye above f&#8217;r to ax ye will ye look afther Dulcie av I
+go away on me thravels?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I will!... Where are you going? What is
+all this stuff you&#8217;re talking, anyway&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shtuff? God be good to you, it&#8217;s no shtuff I talk,
+Misther Barres! Sure, can&#8217;t a decent man thravel
+f&#8217;r to see the wurruld as God made it an&#8217; no harrm
+in&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be careful what company you travel in,&#8221; said
+Barres, looking at him intently. &#8220;You have been
+travelling around New York in very suspicious company,
+Soane. I know more about it than you think I
+do. And it wouldn&#8217;t surprise me if you have a run-in
+with the police some day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The po-lice, sorr! Arrah, then, me fut in me hand
+an&#8217; me tongue in me cheek to the likes o&#8217; thim! An&#8217;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span>
+lave them go hoppin&#8217; afther me av they like. The
+po-lice is ut! Open y&#8217;r two ears, asthore, an&#8217; listen
+here!&mdash;there&#8217;ll be nary po-lice, no nor constabulary,
+nor excise, nor landlords the day that Ireland flies her
+flag on Dublin Castle! Sure, that will be the grand
+sight, with all the rats a-runnin&#8217;, an&#8217; all the hurryin&#8217;
+and scurryin&#8217; an&#8217; the futther and mutther&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>What</i> are you gabbling about, Soane? What&#8217;s all
+this boasting about?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gabble is ut? Is it boastin&#8217; I am? Sorra the day!
+An&#8217; there do be grand gintlemen and gay ladies to-day
+that shall look for a roof an&#8217; a sup o&#8217; tay this day
+three weeks, when th&#8217; fut o&#8217; the tyrant is lifted from
+the neck of Ireland an&#8217; the landlords is runnin&#8217; for
+their lives&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought so!&#8221; exclaimed Barres, disgusted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; phwat was ye thinkin&#8217;, sorr?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That your German friends at Grogan&#8217;s are stirring
+up trouble among the Irish. What&#8217;s all this nonsense,
+anyway? Are they trying to persuade you to follow
+the old Fenian tactics and raid Canada? Or is it an
+armed expedition to the Irish coast? You&#8217;d better
+be careful; they&#8217;ll only lock you up here, but it&#8217;s a
+hanging matter over there!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it so?&#8221; grinned Soane.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It surely is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, be aisy, Misther Barres, dear. Av
+there&#8217;s hangin&#8217; to be done this time, &#8217;twill not be thim
+as wears the green that hangs!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres slowly shook his head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is German work. You&#8217;re sticking your neck
+into the noose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lave the noose for the Clan-na-Gael to pull, sorr,
+an&#8217; &#8217;twill shqueeze no Irish neck!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a fool, Soane! These Germans are exploiting
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
+such men as you. Where&#8217;s your common
+sense? Can&#8217;t you see you&#8217;re playing a German game?
+What do they care what becomes of you or of Ireland?
+All they want is for you to annoy England at
+any cost. And the cost is death! Do you dream for
+an instant that you and your friends stand a ghost of
+a chance if you are crazy enough to invade Canada?
+Do you suppose it possible to land an expedition on
+the Irish coast?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane deliberately winked at him. Then he burst
+into laughter and stood rocking there on heel and toe
+while his mirth lasted.</p>
+<p>But the inevitable Celtic reaction presently sobered
+him and switched him into a sombre recapitulation of
+Erin&#8217;s wrongs. And this tragic inventory brought the
+inevitable tears in time. And Woe awoke in him the
+memory of the personal and pathetic.</p>
+<p>The world had dealt him a wretched hand. He had
+sat in a crooked game from the beginning. The cards
+had been stacked; the dice were cogged. And now
+he meant to make the world disgorge&mdash;pay up the living
+that it owed him.</p>
+<p>Barres attempted to stem the flow of volubility, but
+it instantly became a torrent.</p>
+<p>Nobody knew the sorrows of Ireland or of the Irish.
+Tyranny had marked them for its own. As for himself&mdash;once
+a broth of a boy&mdash;he had been torn from
+the sacred precincts of his native shanty and consigned
+to a loveless, unhappy marriage.</p>
+<p>Then Barres listened without interrupting. But the
+woes of Soane became vague at that point. Veiled
+references to being &#8220;thrampled on,&#8221; to &#8220;th&#8217; big house,&#8221;
+to &#8220;thim that was high an&#8217; shtiff-necked,&#8221; abounded in
+an unconnected way. There was something about being
+a servant at the fireside of his own wife&mdash;a footstool
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span>
+on the hearth of his own home&mdash;other incomprehensible
+plaints and mutterings, many scalding tears,
+a blub or two, and a sort of whining silence.</p>
+<p>Then Barres said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is Dulcie, Soane?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man, seated now on his bed, lifted a congested
+and stupid visage as though he had not comprehended.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is Dulcie your daughter?&#8221; demanded Barres.</p>
+<p>Soane&#8217;s blue eyes wandered wildly in an agony of
+recollection:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did I say she was <i>not</i>, sorr?&#8221; he faltered. &#8220;Av
+I told ye that, may the saints forgive me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it true?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, what was I afther sayin&#8217;, Misther&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind what you said or left unsaid! I want
+to ask you another question. Who was Eileen Fane?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane bounded to his feet, his blue eyes ablaze:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Holy Mother o&#8217; God! What have I said!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Was Eileen Fane your wife?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did I say her blessed name!&#8221; shouted Soane.
+&#8220;Sorra the sup I tuk that loosed the tongue o&#8217; me this
+cursed day! &#8217;Twas the dommed whishkey inside o&#8217; me
+that told ye that&mdash;not me&mdash;not Larry Soane! Wurra
+the day I said it! An&#8217; listen, now, f&#8217;r the love o&#8217; God!
+Take pride to yourself, sorr, for all the goodness ye
+done to Dulcie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; av I go, and I come no more to vex her, I
+thank God &#8217;tis in a gintleman&#8217;s hands the child do
+be&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He choked; his marred hands dropped by
+his side, and he stared dumbly at Barres for a moment.
+Then:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Av I come no more, will ye guard her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will ye do fair by her, Misther Barres?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Call God to hear ye say ut!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So&mdash;help me&mdash;God.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soane dropped on to the bed and took his battered
+face and curly head between his <ins title='Added period'>hands.</ins></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll say no more,&#8221; he said thickly. &#8220;Nor you nor
+she shall know no more. An&#8217; av ye have guessed it out,
+kape it locked in. I&#8217;ll say no more.... I was good
+to her&mdash;in me own way. But ye cud see&mdash;anny wan
+with half a cock-eye cud see.... I was&mdash;honest&mdash;with
+her mother.... She made the bargain.... I
+tuk me pay an&#8217; held me tongue.... &#8217;Tis whishkey
+talks, not me.... I tuk me pay an&#8217; I kept to the
+bargain.... Wan year.... Then&mdash;she was dead of
+it&mdash;like a flower, sorr&mdash;like the rose ye pull an&#8217; lave
+lyin&#8217; in the sun.... Like that, sorr&mdash;in a year....
+An&#8217; I done me best be Dulcie.... I done me best.
+An&#8217; held to the bargain.... An&#8217; done me best be
+Dulcie&mdash;little Dulcie&mdash;the wee baby that had come at
+last&mdash;<i>her</i> baby&mdash;Dulcie Fane!...&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span>
+<a name='XIX_A_CHANCE_ENCOUNTER' id='XIX_A_CHANCE_ENCOUNTER'></a>
+<h2>XIX
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />A CHANCE ENCOUNTER</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>A single shaded lamp illuminated the studio,
+making the shapes of things vague where outline
+and colour were lost in the golden dusk.
+Dulcie, alone at the piano, accompanied her own
+voice with soft, scarcely heard harmonies, as she
+hummed, one after another, old melodies she had learned
+from the Sisters so long ago&mdash;&#8220;The Harp,&#8221; &#8220;Shandon
+Bells,&#8221; &#8220;The Exile,&#8221; &#8220;Shannon Water&#8221;&mdash;songs of that
+sort and period:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent2'>&#8220;<i>The Bells of Shandon,</i></p>
+<p class='indent2'><i>Then sound so grand on</i></p>
+<p><i>The pleasant waters of the River Lee.</i>&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>Thessalie sat by the open window and Westmore
+squatted at her feet on the sill of the little balcony,
+doing, as usual, all the talking while she lay deep in
+her armchair waving her fan, listening, responding
+with a low-voiced laugh or word now and again.</p>
+<p>Dulcie sang:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent2'>&#8220;<i>On the banks of the Shannon</i></p>
+<p><i>When Mary was nigh.</i>&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>From that she changed to a haunting, poignant little
+song; and Barres looked up from his desk under
+the lamp. Then he sealed and stamped the three letters
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span>
+which he had written to his Foreland kinfolk, and,
+holding them in one hand, took his hat from the table
+with the other, as though preparing to rise. Dulcie
+half turned her head, her hands still idling over the
+shadowy keys:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going out?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just to the corner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you mail your letters down stairs?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll step around to the branch post office; they&#8217;ll
+go quicker.... What was that air you were playing
+just now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is called &#8216;Mea Culpa.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Play it again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She turned to the keys, recommenced the Celtic air,
+and sang in a clear, childish voice:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;Wake, little maid!</p>
+<p>Red dawns the morn,</p>
+<p>The last stars fade,</p>
+<p>The day is born;</p>
+<p>Now the first lark wings high in air,</p>
+<p>And sings the Virgin&#8217;s praises there!</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid</p>
+<p>To see the morn;</p>
+<p>I lie dismayed</p>
+<p>Beside the thorn.</p>
+<p>Gazing at God with frightened eyes,</p>
+<p>Where larks are singing in the skies.</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>II</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;Why, mourn, dear maid,</p>
+<p>Alone, forlorn,</p>
+<p>White and afraid</p>
+<p>Beside the thorn,</p>
+<p>With weeping eyes and sobbing breath</p>
+<p>And fair sweet face as pale as death?</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;For love repayed</p>
+<p>By Mary&#8217;s scorn,</p>
+<p>I weep, betrayed</p>
+<p>By one unborn!</p>
+<p>Where can a poor lass hide her head</p>
+<p>Till day be done and she be dead!&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>The voice and playing lingered among the golden
+shadows, hushed to a whisper, ceased.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it very old, that sad little song?&#8221; he asked at
+last.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My mother wrote it.... There is the <i>Mea Culpa</i>,
+still, which ends it. Shall I sing it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go on,&#8221; he nodded.</p>
+<p>So she sang the <i>Mea Culpa</i>:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>III</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent2'>&#8220;Winds in the whinns</p>
+<p class='indent3'>Shall kene for me&mdash;</p>
+<p>(<i>For Love is Love though men be men!</i>)</p>
+<p class='indent3'>Till all my sins</p>
+<p class='indent3'>Forgiven be&mdash;</p>
+<p>(<i>Maxima culpa, Lord. Amen.</i>)</p>
+<p class='indent3'>And Mary&#8217;s grace my fault shall purge,</p>
+<p class='indent3'>While skylarks plead my cause above,</p>
+<p class='indent3'>And breezy rivers sing my dirge,</p>
+<p class='indent3'>Because I loved and died of Love.</p>
+<p>(<i>I love, and die of Love!</i>)</p>
+<p class='indent13'>Amen.&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>When the soft cadence of the last notes was stilled,
+Dulcie turned once more toward him in the uncertain
+light.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s very lovely,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and dreadfully triste.
+The air alone is enough to break your heart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My mother, when she wrote it, was unhappy, I
+imagine&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She swung slowly around to face the
+keys again.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know why she was so unhappy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She fell in love,&#8221; said the girl over her shoulder.
+&#8220;And it saddened her life, I think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He sat motionless for a while. Dulcie did not turn
+again. Presently he rose and walked slowly out and
+down stairs, carrying his letters with him.</p>
+<p>The stolid, mottled-faced German girl was on duty
+at the desk, and she favoured him with a sour look,
+as usual.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was a gen&#8217;l&#8217;man to see you,&#8221; she mumbled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just now. I didn&#8217;t know you was in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, why didn&#8217;t you ring up the apartment and
+find out?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+<p>She gave him a sullen look:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s his card,&#8221; she said, shoving it across the
+desk.</p>
+<p>Barres picked up the card. &#8220;Georges Renoux,
+Architect,&#8221; he read. &#8220;Hotel Astor&#8221; was pencilled in
+the corner.</p>
+<p>Barres knit his brows, trying to evoke in his memory
+a physiognomy to fit a name which seemed hazily
+familiar.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did the gentleman leave any message?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, please don&#8217;t make another mistake of this
+kind,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>She stared at him like a sulky sow, her little eyes red
+with malice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is Soane?&#8221; he inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where did he go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t ask him,&#8221; she replied, with a slight sneer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish to see him,&#8221; continued Barres patiently.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span>
+&#8220;Could you tell me whether he was likely to go to Grogans?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s Grogan&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Grogan&#8217;s Café on Third Avenue&mdash;where Soane
+hangs out,&#8221; he managed to explain calmly. &#8220;You
+know where it is. You have called him up there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know nothin&#8217; about it,&#8221; she grunted, resuming
+the greasy novel she had been reading.</p>
+<p>But when Barres, now thoroughly incensed, turned
+to leave, her small, pig-like eyes peeped slyly after
+him. And after he had disappeared through the corridor
+into the street she hastily unhooked the transmitter
+and called Grogan&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is Martha.... Martha Kurtz. Yes, I want
+Frank Lehr.... Is that you, Frank?... The artist,
+Barres, who was pumping Soane the other night,
+is after him again. I told you how I listened at the
+door, and how I heard that Irish souse blabbing and
+bragging.... What?... Sure!... Barres was at
+the desk just now inquiring if Soane had gone to Grogan&#8217;s....
+You bet!... Barres is leery since <i>K17</i>
+hit him with a gun. Sure; he&#8217;s stickin&#8217; his nose into
+everything.... Look out for him, if he comes around
+Grogan&#8217;s askin&#8217; for Soane.... And say; there was
+a French guy here callin&#8217; on Barres. I knew he was
+in, but I said he was out. I was just goin&#8217; to call you
+when Barres came down.... Yes, I got his name....
+Wait, I copied it out.... Here it is, &#8216;Georges
+Renoux, Architect.&#8217; And he wrote &#8216;Hotel Astor&#8217; in
+the corner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, he said tell Barres to call him up. Naw, I
+didn&#8217;t give him the message.... You don&#8217;t say! Is
+that right? He&#8217;s one o&#8217; them nosey Frenchman? <i>A
+captain</i>?... Gee!... What&#8217;s his lay?... In
+New York? Well, you better watch out then....
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span>
+Sure, I&#8217;ll ring you if he comes back!... No, there
+ain&#8217;t no news.... Yes, I was to the Astor grille last
+night, and I talked to <i>K17</i>.... There was a guy
+higher up there. I don&#8217;t know who. He looked like
+he was a dark complected Jew.... <i>Ferez Bey</i>?...
+Gee!... You expect Skeel? To-night? Doin&#8217; <i>what</i>?
+You think this man Renoux is watchin&#8217; the Clan-na-Gael?
+Well, you better tell Soane to shut his mouth
+then.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that Dunois girl is here still. It&#8217;s a pity <i>K17</i>
+lost his nerve.... Well, you better look out for her
+and for Barres, too. They&#8217;re as thick as last year
+honey!</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, I&#8217;ll let you know anything. Bye-bye.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Barres, walking leisurely up the street, kept watching
+for Soane somewhere along the block; but could
+see nobody in the darkness, resembling him.</p>
+<p>Outdoors the July night was cooler; young girls,
+hatless, in summer frocks, gathered on stoops or
+strolled through the lamplit dark. Somewhere a piano
+sounded, not unpleasantly.</p>
+<p>In the branch post office he mailed his letters, turned
+to go out, and caught sight of Soane passing along the
+sidewalk just outside.</p>
+<p>And with him was the one-eyed man, Max Freund&mdash;the
+man who, perhaps, had robbed Dulcie of half the
+letter.</p>
+<p>His first emotion was sheer anger, and it started him
+toward the door, bent on swift but unconsidered vengeance.</p>
+<p>But before this impulse culminated in his collaring
+the one-eyed man, sufficient common sense came to the
+rescue. A row meant publicity, and an inquiry by
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span>
+authority would certainly involve the writer of the
+partly stolen letter&mdash;Thessalie Dunois.</p>
+<p>Cool and collected now, but mad all through, Barres
+continued to follow Soane and Freund, dropping back
+several yards to keep out of sight, and trying to make
+up his mind what he ought to do.</p>
+<p>The cross street was fairly well lighted; there
+seemed to be plenty of evening strollers abroad, so that
+he was not particularly conspicuous on the long block
+between Sixth and Fifth Avenues.</p>
+<p>The precious pair, arriving at Fifth Avenue, halted,
+blocked by the normal rush of automobiles, unchecked
+now by a traffic policeman.</p>
+<p>So Barres halted, too, and drew back alongside a
+shop window.</p>
+<p>And, as he stopped and stepped aside, he saw a man
+pause on the sidewalk across the street and move back
+cautiously into the shadow of a façade opposite.</p>
+<p>There was nothing significant in the occurrence;
+Barres merely happened to notice it; then he turned
+his eyes toward Soane and Freund, who now were crossing
+Fifth Avenue. And he went after them, with no
+definite idea in his head.</p>
+<p>Soane and Freund walked on eastward; a tramcar
+on Madison Avenue stopped them once more; and, as
+Barres also halted behind them and stepped aside into
+the shadows, there, just across the street, he saw the
+same man again halt, retire, and stand motionless in
+a recess between two shop windows.</p>
+<p>Barres tried to keep one eye on him and the other
+on Soane and Freund. The two latter were crossing
+Madison Avenue; and as soon as they had crossed, still
+headed east, the man on the other side of the street
+came out of his shadowy recess and started eastward,
+too.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></div>
+<p>Then Barres also started, but now he was watching
+the man across the street as well as keeping Soane and
+Freund in view&mdash;watching the former solitary individual
+with increasing curiosity.</p>
+<p>Was that man keeping an eye on him? Was he following
+Soane and Freund? Was he, in fact, following
+anybody, and had the lively imagination of Barres
+begun to make something out of nothing?</p>
+<p>At Park Avenue Freund and Soane paused, not apparently
+because of any vehicular congestion impeding
+their progress, but they seemed to be engaged in
+vehement conversation, Soane&#8217;s excitable tones reaching
+Barres, where he had halted again beside the tradesmen&#8217;s
+gate of a handsome private house.</p>
+<p>And once more, across the street the solitary figure
+also halted and stood unstirring under a porte-cochère.</p>
+<p>Barres, straining his eyes, strove to make out details
+of his features and dress. And presently he concluded
+that, though the man did turn and glance in his direction
+occasionally, his attention was principally fixed
+on Soane and Freund.</p>
+<p>His movements, too, seemed to corroborate this idea,
+because as soon as they started across Park Avenue
+the man on the opposite side of the street was in instant
+motion. And Barres, now intensely curious, walked
+eastward once more, following all three.</p>
+<p>At Lexington Avenue Soane sheered off and, despite
+the clutch of Freund, went into a saloon. Freund
+finally followed.</p>
+<p>As usual, across the street the solitary figure had
+stopped. Barres, also immobile, kept him in view.
+Evidently he, too, was awaiting the reappearance of
+Soane and Freund.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Barres made up his mind to have a good
+look at him. He walked to the corner, walked over to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span>
+the south side of the street, turned west, and slowly
+sauntered past the man, looking him deliberately in the
+face.</p>
+<p>As for the stranger, far from shrinking or avoiding
+the scrutiny, he on his part betrayed a very lively
+interest in the physiognomy of Barres; and as that
+young man approached he found himself scanned by
+a brilliant and alert pair of eyes, as keen as a fox-terrier&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>In frank but subtly hostile curiosity their glances
+met and crossed. Then, in an instant, a rather odd
+smile glimmered in the stranger&#8217;s eyes, twitched at his
+pleasant mouth, just shaded by a tiny moustache:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you please, sir,&#8221; he said in a low, amused voice,
+&#8220;you will not&mdash;as they say in New York&mdash;butt in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres, astonished, stood quite still. The young
+man continued to regard him with a very intelligent
+and slightly ironical expression:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do not know, of course,&#8221; he said, &#8220;whether you
+are of the city police, the State service, the Post Office,
+the Department of Justice, the Federal Secret
+Service&#8221;&mdash;he shrugged expressive shoulders&mdash;&#8220;but this
+I do know very well, that through lack of proper coordination
+in the branches of all your departments of
+City, State, and Federal surety, there is much bungling,
+much working at cross purposes, much interference,
+and many blunders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Therefore, I beg of you not to do anything further
+in the matter which very evidently occupies you.&#8221;
+And he bowed and glanced across at the saloon into
+which Soane and Freund had disappeared.</p>
+<p>Barres was thinking hard. He drew out his cigarette
+case, lighted a cigarette, came to his conclusions:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are watching Freund and Soane?&#8221; he asked
+bluntly.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;And you, sir? Are you observing the stars?&#8221; inquired
+the young man, evidently amused at something
+or other unperceived by Barres.</p>
+<p>The latter said, frankly and pleasantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I <i>am</i> following those two men. It is evident that
+you are, also. So may I ask, have you any idea where
+they are going?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can guess, perhaps.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To Grogan&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suppose,&#8221; said Barres quietly, &#8220;I put myself under
+your orders and go along with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The strange young man was much diverted:</p>
+<p>&#8220;In your kind suggestion there appears to be concealed
+a germ of common sense,&#8221; he said. &#8220;In which
+particular service are you employed, sir?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you?&#8221; inquired Barres, smilingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I imagine you may have guessed,&#8221; said the young
+man, evidently greatly amused at something or other.</p>
+<p>Sheer intuition prompted Barres, and he took a
+chance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I have ventured to guess that you are an Intelligence
+Officer in the French service, and secretly
+on duty in the United States.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The young man winced but forced a very bland
+smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My compliments, whether your guess is born of
+certainty or not. And you, sir? May I inquire your
+status?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m merely a civilian with a season&#8217;s Plattsburg
+training as my only professional experience. I&#8217;m
+afraid you won&#8217;t believe this, but it&#8217;s quite true. I&#8217;m
+not in either Municipal, State, or Federal service.
+But I don&#8217;t believe I can stand this Hun business much
+longer without enlisting with the Canadians.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. May I ask, then, why you follow that pair
+yonder?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you why. I am a painter. I live at
+Dragon Court. Soane, an Irishman, is superintendent
+of the building. I have reason to believe that German
+propagandists have been teaching him disloyalty under
+promise of aiding Ireland to secure political independence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Coming out of the branch post office this evening,
+where I had taken some letters, I saw Soane and that
+fellow, Freund. I really couldn&#8217;t tell you exactly
+what my object was in following them, except that I
+itched to beat up the German and refrained because
+of the inevitable notoriety that must follow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps I had a vague idea of following them to
+Grogan&#8217;s, where I knew they were bound, just to look
+over the place and see for myself what that German
+rendezvous is like.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anyway, what kept me on their trail was noticing
+<i>you</i>; and your behaviour aroused my curiosity. That
+is the entire truth concerning myself and this affair.
+And if you believe me, and if you think I can be of
+any service to you, take me along with you. If not,
+then I shall certainly not interfere with whatever you
+are engaged in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a few moments the young Intelligence Officer
+looked intently at Barres, the same amused, inexplicable
+smile on his face. Then:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your name,&#8221; he said, with malicious gaiety, &#8220;is
+Garret Barres.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that Barres completely lost countenance, but the
+other man began to laugh:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly you are Garry Barres, a painter, a celebrated
+Beaux Arts man of&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good heavens!&#8221; exclaimed Barres, &#8220;<i>you</i> are
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span>
+Renoux! You are little Georges Renoux, of the atelier
+Ledoux!&mdash;on the architect&#8217;s side!&mdash;you are that man
+who left his card for me this evening! I&#8217;ve seen you
+often! You were a little devil of a nouveau!&mdash;but you
+were always the centre of every bit of mischief in the
+rue Bonaparte! You put the whole Quarter en charette!
+I saw you do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I saw <i>you</i>,&#8221; laughed Renoux, &#8220;on one notorious occasion,
+teaching jiu-jitsu to a policeman! Don&#8217;t talk
+to me about my escapades!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cordially, firmly, in grinning silence, they shook
+hands. And for a moment the intervening years seemed
+to melt away; the golden past became the present;
+and Renoux even thrilled a little at the condescension
+of Barres in shaking hands with him&mdash;the <i>nouveau</i>
+honoured by the <i>ancien</i>!&mdash;the reverence never entirely
+forgotten.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you, anyway, Renoux?&#8221; asked Barres,
+still astonished at the encounter, but immensely interested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My friend, you have already guessed. I am Captain:
+Military Intelligence Department. You know?
+There are no longer architects or butchers or bakers
+in France, only soldiers. And of those soldiers I am
+a very humble one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On secret duty here,&#8221; nodded Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I need not ask an old Beaux Arts comrade to be
+discreet and loyal.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear fellow, France is next in my heart after
+my own country. Tell me, you are following that
+Irishman, Soane, and his boche friend, Max Freund,
+are you not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It happens to be as you say,&#8221; admitted Renoux,
+smilingly. &#8220;A job for a &#8216;flic,&#8217; is it not?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Shall I tell you what I know about those two men?&mdash;what
+I suspect?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should be very glad&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; But at that moment
+Soane came out of the saloon across the way, and
+Freund followed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I come with you?&#8221; whispered Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you care to. Yes, come,&#8221; nodded Renoux, keeping
+his clear, intelligent eyes on the two across the
+street, who now stood under a lamp-post, engaged in
+some sort of drunken altercation.</p>
+<p>Renoux, watching them all the while, continued in
+a low voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Remember, Barres, if we chance to meet again here
+in America, I am merely Georges Renoux, an architect
+and a fellow Beaux Arts man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.... Look! They&#8217;re starting on, those
+two!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come,&#8221; whispered Renoux.</p>
+<p>Soane, unsteady of leg and talkative, was now making
+for Third Avenue beside Freund, who had taken
+him by the arm, in hopes, apparently, of steadying
+them both.</p>
+<p>As Renoux and Barres followed, the latter cautiously
+requested any instructions which Renoux might
+think fit to give.</p>
+<p>Renoux said in his cool, agreeable voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know it&#8217;s rather unusual for an officer to
+bother personally with this sort of thing. But my
+people&mdash;even the renegade Germans in our service&mdash;have
+been unable to obtain necessary information for
+us in regard to Grogan&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It happened this afternoon that certain information
+was brought to me which suggested that I myself
+take a look at Grogan&#8217;s. And that is what I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span>
+was going to do when I saw you on the street, carefully
+stalking two well-known suspects.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They both laughed cautiously.</p>
+<p>Grogan&#8217;s was now in sight on the corner, its cherrywood
+magnificence and its bilious imitation of stained
+glass aglow with electricity. And into its &#8220;Family
+Entrance&#8221; swaggered Soane, followed by the lank figure
+of Max Freund.</p>
+<p>Renoux and Barres had halted fifty yards away.
+Neither spoke. And presently came to them a short,
+dark, powerfully built man, who strolled up casually,
+puffing a large, rank cigar.</p>
+<p>Renoux named him to Barres:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Emile Souchez, one of my men.&#8221; He added:
+&#8220;Anybody gone in yet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Otto Klein, of Gerhardt, Klein &amp; Schwartzmeyer
+went in an hour ago,&#8221; replied Souchez.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oho,&#8221; nodded Renoux softly. &#8220;That signifies
+something really interesting. Who else went in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Small fry&mdash;Dave Sendelbeck, Louis Hochstein,
+Terry Madigan, Dolan, McBride, Clancy&mdash;all Clan-na-Gael
+men.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Skeel?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. He&#8217;s still at the Astor. Franz Lehr came
+out about half an hour ago and took a taxi west.
+Jacques Alost is following in another.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux thought a moment:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lehr has probably gone to see Skeel at the Hotel
+Astor,&#8221; he concluded. &#8220;We&#8217;re going to have our
+chance, I think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then, turning to Barres:</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve decided to take a sport-chance to-night. We
+have most reliable information that this man Lehr,
+who now owns Grogan&#8217;s, will carry here upon his person
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span>
+papers of importance to my Government&mdash;and to
+yours, too, Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The man from whom he shall procure these papers
+is an Irish gentleman named Murtagh Skeel, just arrived
+from Buffalo and stopping overnight at the Hotel
+Astor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lehr, we were informed, was to go personally and
+get those papers.... Do you really wish to help
+us?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well. I expect we shall have what you call
+a mix-up. You will please, therefore, walk into Grogan&#8217;s&mdash;not
+by the family entrance, but by the swinging
+doors on Lexington Avenue. Kindly refresh yourself
+there with some Munich beer; also eat a sandwich
+at my expense, if you care to. Then you will give
+yourself the pains to inquire the way to the wash-room.
+And there you will possess your soul in amiable
+patience until you shall hear me speak your name
+in a very quiet, polite tone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres, recognising the familiar mock seriousness
+of student days in Paris, began to smile. Renoux
+frowned and continued his instructions:</p>
+<p>&#8220;When you hear me politely pronounce your name,
+mon vieux, then you shall precipitate yourself valiantly
+to the aid of Monsieur Souchez and myself&mdash;and perhaps
+Monsieur Alost&mdash;and help us to hold, gag and
+search the somewhat violent German animal whom we
+corner inside the family entrance of Herr Grogan!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres had difficulty in restraining his laughter.
+Renoux was very serious, with the delightful mock
+gravity of a witty and perfectly fearless Frenchman.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lehr?&#8221; inquired Barres, still laughing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is the animal under discussion. There will be
+a taxicab awaiting us&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He turned to Souchez:
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span>
+&#8220;Dis, donc, Emile, faut employer ton coup du Pêre
+François pour nous assurer de cet animal là.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;B&#8217;en sure,&#8221; nodded Souchez, fishing furtively in the
+side pocket of his coat and displaying the corner of
+a red silk handkerchief. He stuffed it into his pocket
+again; Renoux smiled carelessly at Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mon vieux,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I hope it will be like a good
+fight in the Quarter&mdash;what with all those Irish in there.
+You desire to get your head broken?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet I do, Renoux!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bien! So now, if you are quite ready?&#8221; he suggested.
+&#8220;Merci, monsieur, et à bientôt!&#8221; He bowed
+profoundly.</p>
+<p>Barres, still laughing, walked to Lexington Avenue,
+crossed northward, and entered the swinging doors of
+Grogan&#8217;s, perfectly enchanted to have his finger in the
+pie at last, and aching for an old-fashioned Latin
+Quarter row, the pleasures of which he had not known
+for several too respectable years.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span>
+<a name='XX_GROGANS' id='XX_GROGANS'></a>
+<h2>XX
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />GROGAN&#8217;S</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The material attraction of Grogan&#8217;s was principally
+German beer; the æsthetic appeal of
+the place was also characteristically Teutonic
+and consisted of peculiarly offensive decorations, including
+much red cherry, much imitation stained glass,
+many sprawling brass fixtures, and many electric lights.
+Only former inmates of the Fatherland could have
+conceived and executed the embellishments of Grogan&#8217;s.</p>
+<p>There was a palatial bar, behind which fat, white-jacketed
+Teutons served slopping steins of beer upon
+a perforated brass surface. There was a centre table,
+piled with those barbarous messes known to the undiscriminating
+Hun as &#8220;delicatessen&#8221;&mdash;raw fish, sour
+fish, smoked fish, flabby portions of defunct pig in various
+guises&mdash;all naturally nauseating to the white
+man&#8217;s olfactories and palate, and all equally relished
+by the beer-swilling boche.</p>
+<p>A bartender with Pekinese and apoplectic eyes and
+the scorbutic facial symptoms of a Strassburg liver,
+took the order from Barres and set before him a frosty
+glass of Pilsner, incidentally drenching the bar at the
+same time with swipes, which he thriftily scraped
+through the perforated brass strainer into a slop-bucket
+underneath.</p>
+<p>Being a stranger there, Barres was furtively scrutinised
+at first, but there seemed to be nothing particularly
+suspicious about a young man who stopped in for
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span>
+a glass of Pilsner on a July night, and nobody paid
+him any further attention.</p>
+<p>Besides, two United States Secret Service men had
+just gone out, followed, as usual, by one Johnny Klein;
+and the Germans at the tables at the bar, and behind
+the bar were still sneeringly commenting on the episode&mdash;now
+a familiar one and of nightly occurrence.</p>
+<p>So only very casual attention was paid to Barres and
+his Pilsner and his rye-bread and sardine sandwich,
+which he took over to a vacant table to desiccate and
+discuss at his leisure.</p>
+<p>People came and went; conversation in Hunnish gutturals
+became general; soiled evening newspapers were
+read, raw fish seized in fat red fingers and suckingly
+masticated; also, skat and pinochle were resumed with
+unwiped hands, and there was loud slapping of cards
+on polished table tops, and many porcine noises.</p>
+<p>Barres finished his Pilsner, side-stepped the sandwich,
+rose, asked a bartender for the wash-room, and
+leisurely followed the direction given.</p>
+<p>There was nobody in there. He had, for company,
+a mouse, a soiled towel on a roller, and the remains
+of some unattractive soap. He lighted a cigarette,
+surveyed himself in the looking glass, cast a friendly
+glance at the mouse, and stood waiting, flexing his
+biceps muscles with a smile of anticipated pleasure in
+renewing the use of them after such a very long period
+wasted in the peaceful pursuit of art.</p>
+<p>For he was still a boy at heart. All creative minds
+retain something of those care-free, irresponsible years
+as long as the creative talent lasts. As it fails,
+worldly caution creeps in like a thief in the night, to
+steal the spontaneous pleasures of the past and leave
+in their places only the old galoshes of prudence and
+the finger-prints of dull routine.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span></div>
+<p>Barres stood by the open door of the wash-room,
+listening. The corridor which passed it led on into
+another corridor running at right angles. This was
+the Family Entrance.</p>
+<p>Now, as he waited there, he heard the street door
+open, and instantly the deadened shock of a rush and
+struggle.</p>
+<p>As he started toward the Family Entrance, straining
+his ears for the expected summons, a man in flight
+turned the corner into his corridor so abruptly that
+he had him by the throat even before he recognised in
+him the man with the thick eye-glasses who had hit
+him between the eyes with a pistol&mdash;the &#8220;Watcher&#8221; of
+Dragon Court!</p>
+<p>With a swift sigh of gratitude to Chance, Barres
+folded the fleeing Watcher to his bosom and began
+the business he had to transact with him&mdash;an account
+too long overdue.</p>
+<p>The Watcher fought like a wildcat, but in silence&mdash;fought
+madly, using both fists, feet, baring his teeth,
+too, with frantic attempts to use them. But Barres
+gave him no opportunity to kick, bite, or to pull out
+any weapon; he battered the Watcher right and left,
+swinging on him like lightning, and his blows drummed
+on him like the tattoo of fists on a punching bag until
+one stinging crack sent the Watcher&#8217;s head snapping
+back with a jerk, and a terrific jolt knocked him as
+clean and as flat as a dead carp.</p>
+<p>There were papers in his coat, also a knuckle-duster,
+a big clasp-knife, and an automatic pistol. And Barres
+took them all, stuffed them into his own pockets, and,
+dragging his still dormant but twitching victim by the
+collar, as a cat proudly lugs a heavy rat, he started
+for the Family Entrance, where Donnybrook had now
+broken loose.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></div>
+<p>But the silence of the terrific struggle in that narrow
+entry, the absence of all yelling, was significant.
+No Irish whoops, no Teutonic din of combat shattered
+the stillness of that dim corridor&mdash;only the deadened
+sounds of blows and shuffling of frantic feet. It was
+very evident that nobody involved desired to be interrupted
+by the police, or call attention to the location
+of the battle field.</p>
+<p>Renoux, Souchez, and a third companion were in
+intimate and desperate conflict with half a dozen other
+men&mdash;dim, furious figures fighting there under the flickering
+gas jet from which the dirty globe had been
+knocked into fragments.</p>
+<p>Into this dusty maelstrom of waving arms and legs
+went Barres&mdash;first dropping his now inert prey&mdash;and
+began to hit out enthusiastically right and left, at the
+nearest hostile countenance visible.</p>
+<p>His was a flank attack and totally unexpected by <ins title='Removed duplicate word'>the</ins>
+attackees; and the diversion gave Renoux time to
+seize a muscular, struggling opponent, hold him squirming
+while Souchez passed his handkerchief over his
+throat and the third man turned his pockets inside
+out.</p>
+<p>Then Renoux called breathlessly to Barres:</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, mon vieux! Face to the rear front!
+March!&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a moment they stiffened to face a battering rush
+from the stairs. Suddenly a pistol spoke, and an
+Irish voice burst out:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whist, ye domm fool! G&#8217;wan wid yer fishtin&#8217; an&#8217;
+can th&#8217; goon-play!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There came a splintering crash as the rickety banisters
+gave way and several Teutonic and Hibernian
+warriors fell in a furious heap, blocking the entry with
+an unpremeditated obstacle.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></div>
+<p>Instantly Souchez, Barres and the other man backed
+out into the street, followed nimbly by Renoux and
+his plunder.</p>
+<p>Already a typical Third Avenue crowd was gathering,
+though the ominous glimmer of a policeman&#8217;s buttons
+had not yet caught the lamplight from the street
+corner.</p>
+<p>Then the door of Grogan&#8217;s burst open and an embattled
+Irishman appeared. But at first glance the
+hopelessness of the situation presented itself to him;
+a taxi loaded with French and American franc-tireurs
+was already honking triumphantly away westward; an
+excited and rapidly increasing throng pressed around
+the Family Entrance; also, the distant glitter of a
+policeman&#8217;s shield and buttons now extinguished all
+hope of pursuit.</p>
+<p>Soane glared at the crowd out of enraged and blood-shot
+eyes:</p>
+<p>&#8220;G&#8217;wan home, ye bunch of bums!&#8221; he said thickly,
+and slammed the door to the Family Entrance of Grogan&#8217;s
+notorious café.</p>
+<p>At 42d Street and Madison Avenue the taxi stopped
+and Souchez and Alost got out and went rapidly across
+the street toward the Grand Central depot. Then the
+taxi proceeded west, north again, then once more west.</p>
+<p>Renoux, busy with a bleeding nose, remarked carelessly
+that Souchez and Alost were taking a train and
+were in a hurry, and that he himself was going back
+to the Astor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You do not mind coming with me, Barres?&#8221; he
+added. &#8220;In my rooms we can have a bite and a glass
+together, and then we can brush up. That was a nice
+little fight, was it not, mon ami?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine,&#8221; said Barres with satisfaction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite like the old and happy days,&#8221; mused Renoux,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span>
+surveying wilted collar and rumpled tie of his comrade.
+&#8220;You came off well; you have merely a bruised cheek.&#8221;
+His eyes began to sparkle and he laughed: &#8220;Do you
+remember that May evening when your very quarrelsome
+atelier barricaded the Café de la Source and forbade
+us to enter&mdash;and my atelier marched down the
+Boul&#8217; Mich&#8217; with its Kazoo band playing our atelier
+march, determined to take your café by assault? Oh,
+my! What a delightful fight that was!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your crazy comrades stuffed me into the fountain
+among the goldfish. I thought I&#8217;d drown,&#8221; said
+Barres, laughing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know, but your atelier gained a great victory
+that night, and you came over to Müller&#8217;s with your
+Kazoo band playing the Fireman&#8217;s March, and you carried
+away our palms and bay-trees in their green tubs,
+and you threw them over the Pont-au-Change into the
+Seine!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were laughing like a pair of schoolboys now,
+quite convulsed and holding to each other.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you remember,&#8221; gasped Barres, &#8220;that girl who
+danced the Carmagnole on the Quay?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yvonne Tête-de-Linotte!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the British giant from Julien&#8217;s, who threw
+everybody out of the Café Montparnasse and invited
+the Quarter in to a free banquet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;McNeil!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What ever became of that pretty girl, Doucette de
+Valmy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it was she who cheered on your atelier to the
+assault on Müllers!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Laughter stifled them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What crazy creatures we all were,&#8221; said Renoux,
+staunching the last crimson drops oozing from his nose.
+Then, more soberly: &#8220;We French have a grimmer affair
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span>
+over there than the joyous rows of the Latin Quarter.
+I&#8217;m sorry now that we didn&#8217;t throw every waiter in
+Müller&#8217;s after the bay-trees. There would have been
+so many fewer spies to betray France.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The taxi stopped at the 44th Street entrance to the
+Astor. They descended, Renoux leading, walked
+through the corridor to Peacock Alley, turned to the
+right through the bar, then to the left into the lobby,
+and thence to the elevator.</p>
+<p>In Renoux&#8217;s rooms they turned on the electric light,
+locked the door, closed the transom, then spread their
+plunder out on a table.</p>
+<p>To Renoux&#8217;s disgust his own loot consisted of sealed
+envelopes full of clippings from German newspapers
+published in Chicago, Milwaukee, and New York.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That animal, Lehr,&#8221; he said with a wry face, &#8220;has
+certainly played us a filthy turn. These clippings
+amount to nothing&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; His eyes fell on the packet
+of papers which Barres was now opening, and he leaned
+over his shoulder to look.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank God!&#8221; he said, &#8220;here they are! Where on
+earth did you find these papers, Barres? They&#8217;re the
+documents we were after! They ought to have been
+in Lehr&#8217;s pockets!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He must have passed them to the fellow who
+bumped into me near the wash-room,&#8221; said Barres, enchanted
+at his luck. &#8220;What a fortunate chance that
+you sent me around there!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux, delighted, stood under the electric light unfolding
+document after document, and nodding his
+handsome, mischievous head with satisfaction.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What luck, Barres! What did you do to the fellow?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thumped him to sleep and turned out his pockets.
+Are these really what you want?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I should say so! This is precisely what we are
+looking for!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mind if I read them, too?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t. Why should I? You&#8217;re my loyal
+comrade and you understand discretion.... <i>What</i>
+do you think of <i>this</i>!&#8221; displaying a typewritten document
+marked &#8220;Copy,&#8221; enclosing a sheaf of maps.</p>
+<p>It contained plans of all the East River and Harlem
+bridges, a tracing showing the course of the new aqueduct
+and the Ashokan Dam, drawings of the Navy
+Yard, a map of Iona Island, and a plan of the Welland
+Canal.</p>
+<p>The document was brief:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;Included in report by <i>K17</i> to Diplomatic Agent controlling
+Section 7-4-11-B. Recommended that detail plan
+of DuPont works be made without delay.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Skeel.</span>&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Followed several sheets in cipher, evidently some intricate
+variation of those which are always ultimately
+solved by experts.</p>
+<p>But the documents that were now unfolded by Captain
+Renoux proved readable and intensely interesting.</p>
+<p>These were the papers which Renoux read and which
+Barres read over his shoulder:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class='center'>&#8220;(Copy)<br />
+<br />
+Berlin Military Telegraph Office Telegram<br />
+<br />
+Berlin. Political Division of the General Staff<br />
+Nr. Pol. 6431.<br />
+<br />
+(SECRET)<br />
+<br />
+8, Moltkestrasse,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;Berlin, NW, 40.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;March 20, 1916.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Ferez Bey</span>,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;N. Y.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Referring to your correspondence and conversations
+with Colonel Skeel, I most urgently request that the necessary
+funds be raised through the New York banker, Adolf
+Gerhardt; also that Bernstorff be immediately informed
+through Boy-Ed, so that plans of Head General Staff of
+Army on campaign may not be delayed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Begin instantly enlist and train men, secure and arm
+power-boat assemble equipment and explosives, Welland
+Canal Exp&#8217;d&#8217;n. War Office No. 159-16, Secret U. K.:&mdash;T,
+3, P.&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;Foreign Office, Berlin,</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;Dec. 28, 1914.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Dear Sir Roger</span>:&mdash;I have the honour to acknowledge
+receipt of your letter of the 23d inst., in which you submitted
+to his Imperial Majesty&#8217;s Government a proposal
+for the formation of an Irish brigade which would be
+pledged to fight only for the cause of Irish nationalism,
+and which is to be composed of any Irish prisoners of war
+willing to join such a regiment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In reply I have the honour to inform you that his
+Imperial Majesty&#8217;s Government agrees to your proposal
+and also to the conditions under which it might be possible
+to train an Irish brigade. These conditions are set out
+in the declaration enclosed in your letter of the 13th inst.,
+and are given at foot. I have the honour to be, dear Roger,
+your obedient servant,</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;(Signed) <span class='smcap'>Zimmerman</span>,</p>
+<p class='sig3'>&#8220;Under Secretary of State for the Foreign Office.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>To His Honour, Sir Roger Casement</span>,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Eden Hotel, Kurfürstendamm, Berlin.&#8221;</p>
+<p class='center'>&#8220;(SECRET)</p>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Colonel Murtagh Skeel</span>,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Flying Division, Irish Expeditionary Corps,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;New York.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For your information I enclose Zimmerman&#8217;s letter to
+Sir Roger, and also the text of Articles 6 and 7, being part
+of our first agreement with Sir Roger Casement.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;You will note particularly the Article numbered 7.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This paragraph, unfortunately, still postpones your suggested
+attempt to seize on the high seas a British or neutral
+steamer loaded with arms and munitions, and make a
+landing from her on the Irish Coast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, in the meantime, is it not possible for you to seize
+one of the large ore steamers on the Great Lakes, transfer
+to her sufficient explosives, take her into the Welland Canal
+and blow up the locks?</p>
+<p>&#8220;No more valuable service could be performed by Irishmen;
+no deadlier blow delivered at England.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am, my dear Skeel, your sincere friend and comrade,</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;(Signed) <span class='smcap'>Von Papen</span>.</p>
+<p>&#8220;P. S.&mdash;Herewith appended are Articles 6 and 7 included
+in the Casement convention:</p>
+<p class='center'>&#8220;(SECRET)</p>
+<p>&#8220;Text of Articles 6 and 7 of the convention concluded
+between Sir Roger Casement and the German Government:</p>
+<p>&#8220;6. The German Imperial Government undertakes &#8216;under
+certain circumstances&#8217; to lend the Irish Brigade adequate
+military support, and to send it to Ireland abundantly
+supplied with arms and ammunition, in order that once
+there it may equip any Irish who would like to join it in
+making an attempt to re-establish Ireland&#8217;s national liberty
+by force of arms.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The &#8216;special circumstances&#8217; stipulated above are as
+follows:</p>
+<p>&#8220;In case of a German naval victory which would make
+it possible to reach the Irish coast, the German Imperial
+Government pledges itself to despatch the Irish Brigade
+and a German expeditionary corps commanded by German
+officers, in German troopships, to attempt a landing on the
+Irish coast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;7. It will be impossible to contemplate a landing in
+Ireland unless the German Navy can gain such a victory
+as to make it really likely that an attempt to reach Ireland
+by sea would succeed. Should the German Navy not win
+such a victory, then a use will be found for the Irish
+Brigade in Germany or elsewhere. But in no case will
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
+it be used except in such ways as Sir Roger Casement shall
+approve, as being completely in accordance with Article 2.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In this case the Irish Brigade might be sent to Egypt
+to lend assistance in expelling the English and re-establishing
+Egyptian independence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Even if the Irish Brigade should not succeed in fighting
+for the liberation of Ireland from the English yoke, nevertheless
+a blow dealt at the British intruders in Egypt and
+intended to help the Egyptians to recover their freedom
+would be a blow struck for a cause closely related to that
+of Ireland.&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Another paper read as follows:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class='sig2'>&#8220;Halbmondlager,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Aug. 20th, 1915.</p>
+<p class='center'>&#8220;(SECRET)&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To <span class='smcap'>Murtagh Skeel, Colonel,</span><br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;Irish Exp. Force,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;N. Y.</p>
+<p class='center'>&#8220;REPORT</p>
+<p>&#8220;On June 7, fifty Irishmen, with one German subaltern,
+were handed over to this camp, to be temporarily accommodated
+here. On June 16 five more Irishmen arrived,
+one of whom, having a broken leg, was sent to the camp
+hospital. There are, therefore, fifty-four Irishmen now
+here, one Sergeant Major, one Deputy Sergeant Major,
+three Sergeants, three Corporals, three Lance Corporals,
+and forty-three privates.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They were accommodated as well as could be among
+the Indian battalion, an arrangement which gives rise to
+much trouble, which is inevitable, considering the tasks
+imposed upon Half Moon Camp.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Irish form an Irish brigade, which was constituted
+after negotiations between the Foreign Office and Sir
+Roger Casement, the champion of Irish independence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Enclosed is the Foreign Office communication of Dec.
+28, 1914, confirming the conditions on which the Irish
+brigade was to be formed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The members of the Irish brigade are no longer German
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span>
+prisoners of war, but receive an Irish uniform; and,
+according to orders, instructions are to be issued to treat
+the Irish as comrades in arms.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Irish are under the command of a German officer,
+First Lieut. Boehm, the representative of the Grand General
+Staff (Political Division) which is in direct communication
+with the subaltern in charge of the Irish. This
+subaltern has been receiving money direct, which he expends
+in the interests of the Irish; 250 marks were given
+him through the Commandant&#8217;s office, Zossen, and 250 marks
+by First Lieut. Boehm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Promotions, also, are made known by being directly
+communicated to the subaltern in question. As will appear
+from the enclosed copy, dated July 20, these promotions
+were as follows: (1) Sergeant Major, (2) Deputy Sergeant
+Major, and (3) Sergeants.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The uniforms arrived between the end of July and the
+beginning of August. Their coming was announced in a
+letter dated July 20 (copy enclosed), and their distribution
+was ordered. The box of uniforms was addressed to
+Zossen, whence it was brought here. The uniforms consist
+of a jacket, trousers, and cap in Irish style, and are
+of huntsman&#8217;s green cloth. Altogether, uniforms arrived
+for fifty men, and they have since been given out. Three
+non-commissioned officers brought their uniforms with them
+from Limburg on July 16. Two photographs of the Irish
+are annexed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A few Irish are in correspondence with Sir Roger
+Casement, who, in a letter from Munich, dated Aug. 16,
+says that he hears that the Irish are shortly to be transferred
+from here to another place. In a letter dated
+July 17 he complains of his want of success, only fifty men
+having sent in their names as wishing to join the brigade.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Six weeks ago Sir Roger Casement was here with First
+Lieutenant Boehm. Since then, however, neither of these
+gentlemen has personally visited the Irish.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Since the 18th of June the commandant&#8217;s office has
+allowed every penniless Irishman two marks a week&mdash;a
+sum which is now being paid out to fifty-three men.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On Aug. 6 the subaltern in charge of the Irish brigade
+was given a German soldier to help him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In this camp every possible endeavour is made to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span>
+help to attain the important objects in view, but owing
+to the Irish being accommodated with coloured races within
+the precincts of a closed camp, it is inevitable that serious
+dissensions and acts of violence should take place. Moreover,
+a German subaltern is not suited for dealing independently
+with Irishmen.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;(Sgd.) <span class='smcap'>Hauptmann</span>, d. R. a. D.,</p>
+<p class='sig2'>&#8220;(Retired Captain on the Reserve List).&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>The last paper read as follows:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class='center'>&#8220;(COPY)</p>
+<p class='center'>&#8220;(Wireless via Mexico)</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;Berlin (no date).</p>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Ferez</span>,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&#8220;N. Y.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Necessary close Nihla Quellen case immediately. Evidently
+useless expect her take service with us. Hold you
+responsible. Advise you take secret measures to end menace
+to our interests in Paris. D&#8217;Eblis urges instant action.
+Bolo under suspicion. Ex-minister also suspected. Only
+drastic and final action on your part can end danger. You
+know what to do. Do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The telegram was signed with a string of letters and
+numerals.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Renoux glanced curiously at Barres, who had turned
+very red and was beginning to re-read the wireless.</p>
+<p>When he finished, Renoux folded all the documents
+and placed them in the breast pocket of his coat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mon ami, Barres,&#8221; he said pleasantly, &#8220;you and
+I have much yet to say to each other.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the meanwhile, let us wash the stains of combat
+from our persons. What is the number of your collar?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fifteen and a half.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can fit you out. The bathroom is this way, old
+top!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span>
+<a name='XXI_THE_WHITE_BLACKBIRD' id='XXI_THE_WHITE_BLACKBIRD'></a>
+<h2>XXI
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE WHITE BLACKBIRD</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>Refreshed by icy baths and clean linen, and
+now further fortified against the slings and
+arrows of outrageous fortune by a supper of
+cold fowl and Moselle, Captain Renoux and Garret
+Barres sat in the apartment of the former gentleman,
+gaily exchanging Latin Quarter reminiscences through
+the floating haze of their cigars.</p>
+<p>But the conversation soon switched back toward the
+far more serious business which alone accounted for
+their being there together after many years. For, as
+the French officer had remarked, a good deal remained
+to be said between them. And Barres knew what he
+meant, and was deeply concerned at the prospect.</p>
+<p>But Renoux approached the matter with careless
+good humour and by a leisurely, circuitous route, which
+polite pussy-footing was obviously to prepare Barres
+for impending trouble.</p>
+<p>He began by referring to his mission in America,
+admitting very frankly that he was a modest link in
+the system of military and political intelligence maintained
+by all European countries in the domains of
+their neighbours.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I might as well say so,&#8221; he remarked, &#8220;because it&#8217;s
+known to the representatives of enemy governments
+here as well as to your own Government, that some of
+us are here; and anybody can imagine why.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And, in the course of my&mdash;studies,&#8221; he said deliberately,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span>
+while his clear eyes twinkled, &#8220;it has come to
+my knowledge, and to the knowledge of the French
+Ambassador, that there is, in New York, a young
+woman who already has proven herself a dangerous
+enemy to my country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is interesting, if true,&#8221; said Barres, reddening
+to the temples. &#8220;But it is even more interesting
+if it is not true.... And it isn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think anything about it, Renoux; I <i>know</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid you have been misled, Barres. And it
+is natural enough.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; said Renoux serenely, &#8220;she is very beautiful,
+very clever, very young, very appealing....
+Tell me, my friend, where did you meet her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres looked him in the eyes:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where did you learn that I had ever met her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Through the ordinary channels which, if you will
+pardon me, I am not at liberty to discuss.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. It is sufficient that you know I have
+met her. Now, where did I meet her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Renoux candidly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long have I known her then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Possibly a few weeks. Our information is that
+your acquaintance with her is not of long duration.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wrong, my friend: I met her in France several
+years ago; I know her intimately.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, the intimacy has been reported,&#8221; said Renoux,
+blandly. &#8220;But it doesn&#8217;t take long, sometimes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres reddened again and shook his head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You and your agents are all wrong, Renoux. So
+is your Government. Do you know what it&#8217;s doing&mdash;what
+you and your agents are doing? You&#8217;re playing
+a German game for Berlin!&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span></div>
+<p>This time Renoux flushed and there was a slight
+quiver to his lips and nostrils; but he said very pleasantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;That would be rather mortifying, mon ami, if it
+were true.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is true. Berlin, the traitor in Paris, the conspirator
+in America, the German, Austrian, and Turkish
+diplomatic agents here ask nothing better than that
+you manage, somehow, to eliminate the person in question.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; demanded Renoux.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because more than one of your public men in Paris
+will face charges of conspiracy and treason if the person
+in question ever has a fair hearing and a chance
+to prove her innocence of the terrible accusations that
+have been made against her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naturally,&#8221; said Renoux, &#8220;those accused bring
+counter charges. It is always the history of such
+cases, mon ami.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your mind is already made up, then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My mind is a real mind, Barres. Reason is what
+it seeks&mdash;the logical evidence that leads to truth. If
+there is anything I don&#8217;t know, then I wish to know
+it, and will spare no pains, permit no prejudice to
+warp my judgment.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. Now, let&#8217;s have the thing out between
+us, Renoux. We are not fencing in the dark; we understand
+each other and are honest enough to say so.
+Now, go on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux nodded and said very quietly and pleasantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The reference in one of these papers to the celebrated
+Nihla Quellen reminds me of the first time I
+ever saw her. I was quite bowled over, Barres, as you
+may easily imagine. She sang one of those Asiatic
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span>
+songs&mdash;and then the dance!&mdash;a miracle!&mdash;a delight&mdash;apparently
+entirely unprepared, unpremeditated even&mdash;you
+know how she did it?&mdash;exquisite perfection&mdash;something
+charmingly impulsive and spontaneous&mdash;a
+caprice of the moment! Ah&mdash;there is a wonderful artiste,
+Nihla Quellen!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres nodded, his level gaze fixed on the French
+officer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As for the document,&#8221; continued Renoux, &#8220;it does
+not entirely explain itself to me. You see, this Eurasian,
+Ferez Bey, was a very intimate friend of Nihla
+Quellen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are quite mistaken,&#8221; interposed Barres. But
+the other merely smiled with a slight gesture of deference
+to his friend&#8217;s opinion, and went on.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This Ferez is one of those persistent, annoying
+flies which buzz around chancelleries and stir up diplomats
+to pernicious activities. You know there isn&#8217;t
+much use in swatting, as you say, the fly. No. Better
+find the manure heap which hatched him and burn
+that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled and shrugged, relighted his cigar, and
+continued:</p>
+<p>&#8220;So, mon ami, I am here in your charming and hospitable
+city to direct the necessary sanitary measures,
+sub rosa, of course. You have been more than kind.
+My Government and I have you to thank for this batch
+of papers&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He tapped his breast pocket and
+made salutes which Frenchmen alone know how to
+make.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Renoux,&#8221; said Barres bluntly, &#8220;you have learned
+somehow that Nihla Quellen is under my protection.
+You conclude I am her lover.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The officer&#8217;s face altered gravely, but he said nothing.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></div>
+<p>Barres leaned forward in his chair and laid a hand
+on his comrade&#8217;s shoulder:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Renoux, do you trust me, personally?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well. Then I shall trust you. Because there
+is nothing you can tell me about Nihla Quellen that I
+do not already know&mdash;nothing concerning her <i>dossier</i>
+in your secret archives, nothing in regard to the evidence
+against her and the testimony of the Count
+d&#8217;Eblis. And that clears the ground between you and
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>If Renoux was surprised he scarcely showed it.</p>
+<p>Barres said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;As long as you know that she is under my protection,
+I want you to come to my place and talk to her.
+I don&#8217;t ask you to accept my judgment in regard to
+her; I merely wish you to listen to what she has to
+say, and then come to your own conclusions. Will
+you do this?&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a few moments Renoux sat quite still, his clear,
+intelligent eyes fixed on the smoking tip of his cigar.
+Without raising them he said slowly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;As we understand it, Nihla Quellen has been a
+spy from the very beginning. Our information is
+clear, concise, logical. We know her history. She
+was the mistress of Prince Cyril, then of Ferez, then
+of d&#8217;Eblis&mdash;perhaps of the American banker, Gerhardt,
+also. She came directly from the German Embassy
+at Constantinople to Paris, on Gerhardt&#8217;s yacht,
+the <i>Mirage</i>, and under his protection and the protection
+of Comte Alexandre d&#8217;Eblis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez was of the party. And that companionship
+of conspirators never was dissolved as long as Nihla
+Quellen remained in Europe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That Nihla Quellen has ever been the mistress of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span>
+any man is singularly untrue,&#8221; said Barres coolly.
+&#8220;Your Government has to do with a chaste woman;
+and it doesn&#8217;t even know that much!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux regarded him curiously:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have seen her dance?&#8221; he enquired gravely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Often. And, Renoux, you are too much a man of
+the world to be surprised at the unexpected. There
+<i>are</i> white blackbirds.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, there are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla Quellen is one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My friend, I desire to believe it if it would be agreeable
+to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know, Renoux; I believe in your good-will. Also,
+I believe in your honesty and intelligence. And so I
+do not ask you to accept my word for what I tell you.
+Only remember that I am absolutely certain concerning
+my belief in Nihla Quellen.... I have no doubt
+that you think I am in love with her.... I can&#8217;t
+answer you. All Europe was in love with her. Perhaps
+I am.... I don&#8217;t know, Renoux. But this I
+do know; she is clean and sweet and honest from the
+crown of her head to the sole of her foot. In her heart
+there has never dwelt treachery. Talk to her to-night.
+You&#8217;re like the best of your compatriots, clear minded,
+logical, intelligent, and full of that legitimate imagination
+without which intellect is a machine. You know
+the world; you know men; you don&#8217;t know women and
+you know you don&#8217;t. Therefore, you are equipped to
+learn the truth&mdash;to divine it&mdash;from Nihla Quellen.
+Will you come over to my place now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Renoux pleasantly.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>The orchestra was playing as they passed through
+the hotel; supper rooms, corridors, café and lobby were
+crowded with post-theatre throngs in search of food
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span>
+and drink and dance music; and although few theatres
+were open in July, Long Acre blazed under its myriad
+lights and the sidewalks were packed with the audiences
+filtering out of the various summer shows and into all-night
+cabarets.</p>
+<p>They looked across at the distant war bulletins displayed
+on Times Square, around which the usual gesticulating
+crowd had gathered, but kept on across
+Long Acre, and west toward Sixth Avenue.</p>
+<p>Midway in the block, Renoux touched his comrade
+silently on the arm, and halted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A few minutes, mon ami, if you don&#8217;t mind&mdash;time
+for you to smoke a cigarette while waiting.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They had stopped before a brownstone house which
+had been converted into a basement dwelling, and
+which was now recessed between two modern shops constructed
+as far as the building line.</p>
+<p>All the shades and curtains in the house were drawn
+and the place appeared to be quite dark, but a ring
+at the bell brought a big, powerfully built porter, who
+admitted them to a brightly lighted reception room.
+Then the porter replaced the chains on the door of
+bronze.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a little while, if you will be amiable enough
+to have patience,&#8221; said Renoux.</p>
+<p>He went away toward the rear of the house and
+Barres seated himself. And in a few moments the burly
+porter reappeared with a tray containing a box of
+cigarettes and a tall glass of Moselle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Monsieur Renoux will not be long,&#8221; he said, bringing
+a sheaf of French illustrated periodicals to the
+little table at Barres&#8217; elbow; and he retired with a
+bow and resumed his chair in the corridor by the bronze
+door.</p>
+<p>Through closed doors, somewhere from the rear of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span>
+the silent house came the distant click of a typewriter.
+At moments, too, looking over the war pictures in the
+periodicals, Barres imagined that he heard a confused
+murmur as of many voices.</p>
+<p>Later it became evident that there were a number
+of people somewhere in the house, because, now and
+then, the porter unlatched the door and drew the
+chains to let out some swiftly walking man.</p>
+<p>Once two men came out together. One carried a
+satchel; the other halted in the hallway to slip a clip
+into an automatic pistol before dropping it into the
+side pocket of his coat.</p>
+<p>And after a while Renoux appeared, bland, debonaire,
+evidently much pleased with whatever he had
+been doing.</p>
+<p>Two other men appeared in the corridor behind him;
+he said something to them in a low voice; Barres imagined
+he heard the words, &#8220;Washington&#8221; and &#8220;Jusserand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then the two men went out, walking at a smart pace,
+and Renoux sauntered into the tiny reception room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t know,&#8221; he said, &#8220;what a very important
+service you have rendered us by catching that fellow
+to-night and stripping him of his papers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres rose and they walked out together.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This city,&#8221; added Renoux, &#8220;is fairly verminous with
+disloyal Huns. The streets are crawling with them;
+every German resort, saloon, beer garden, keller, café,
+club, society&mdash;every German drug store, delicatessen
+shop, music store, tobacconist, is lousy with the treacherous
+swine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are two great hotels where the boche gathers
+and plots; two great banking firms are centres of
+German propaganda; three great department stores,
+dozens of downtown commercial agencies; various
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span>
+buildings and piers belonging to certain transatlantic
+steamship lines, the offices of certain newspapers and
+periodicals.... Tell me, Barres, did you know that
+the banker, Gerhardt, owns the building in which you
+live?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dragon Court!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t know it, evidently. Yes, he owns it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is he really involved in pro-German intrigue?&#8221;
+asked Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is our information.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ask,&#8221; continued Barres thoughtfully, &#8220;because his
+summer home is at Northbrook, not far from my own
+home. And to me there is something peculiarly contemptible
+about disloyalty in the wealthy who owe
+every penny to the country they betray.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;His place is called Hohenlinden,&#8221; remarked Renoux.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Are you having it watched?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux smiled. Perhaps he was thinking about
+other places, also&mdash;the German Embassy, for example,
+where, inside the Embassy itself, not only France but
+also the United States Government was represented by
+a secret agent among the personnel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We try to learn what goes on among the boches,&#8221;
+he said carelessly. &#8220;They try the same game. But,
+Barres, they are singularly stupid at such things&mdash;not
+adroit, merely clumsy and brutal. The Hun cannot
+camouflage his native ferocity. He reveals himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And in that respect it is fortunate for civilisation
+that it is dealing with barbarians. Their cunning is
+of the swinish sort. Their stench ultimately discovers
+them. You are discovering it for yourselves; you detected
+Dernberg; you already sniff Von Papen, Boy-ed,
+Bernstorff. All over the world the nauseous effluvia
+from the vast Teutonic hog-pen is being detected and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span>
+recognised. And civilisation is taking sanitary measures
+to abate the nuisance.... And your country,
+too, will one day send out a sanitary brigade to help
+clean up the world, just as you now supply our details
+with the necessary chlorides and antiseptics.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are very picturesque,&#8221; he said. &#8220;And I&#8217;ll tell
+you one thing, if we don&#8217;t join the sanitary corps now
+operating, I shall go out with a bottle of chloride
+myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They entered Dragon Court a few moments later.
+Nobody was at the desk, it being late.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow,&#8221; said Barres, as they ascended the
+stairs, &#8220;my friends, Miss Soane, Miss Dunois, and
+Mr. Westmore are to be our guests at Foreland Farms.
+You didn&#8217;t know that, did you?&#8221; he added sarcastically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes,&#8221; replied Renoux, much amused. &#8220;Miss
+Dunois, as you call her, sent her trunks away this evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres, surprised and annoyed, halted on the landing:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your people didn&#8217;t interfere, I hope.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. There was nothing in them of interest to us,&#8221;
+said Renoux naïvely. &#8220;I sent a report when I sent on
+to Washington the papers which you secured for us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres paused before his studio door, key in hand.
+They could hear the gramophone going inside. He
+said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t have to ask you to be fair, Renoux, because
+the man who is unfair to others swindles himself, and
+you are too decent, too intelligent to do that. I am
+going to present you to Thessalie Dunois, which happens
+to be her real name, and I am going to tell her
+in your presence who you are. Then I shall leave you
+alone with her.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span></div>
+<p>He fitted his latchkey and opened the door.</p>
+<p>Westmore was trying fancy dancing with Dulcie
+on one side, and Thessalie on the other&mdash;the latter
+evidently directing operations.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry!&#8221; exclaimed Thessalie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a fine one! Where have you been?&#8221; began
+Westmore. Then he caught sight of Renoux and became
+silent.</p>
+<p>Barres led his comrade forward and presented
+him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;A fellow student of the Beaux Arts,&#8221; he explained,
+&#8220;and we&#8217;ve had a very jolly evening together. And,
+Thessa, there is something in particular that I should
+like to have you explain to Monsieur Renoux, if you
+don&#8217;t mind....&#8221; He turned and looked at Dulcie:
+&#8220;If you will pardon us a moment, Sweetness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded and smiled and took Westmore&#8217;s arm
+again, and continued the dance alone with him while
+Barres, drawing Thessalie&#8217;s arm through his, and passing
+his other arm through Renoux&#8217;s, walked leisurely
+through his studio, through the now open folding doors,
+past his bedroom and Westmore&#8217;s, and into the latter&#8217;s
+studio beyond.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa, dear,&#8221; he said very quietly, &#8220;I feel very
+certain that the worst of your troubles are about to
+end&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He felt her start slightly. &#8220;And,&#8221; he continued,
+&#8220;I have brought my comrade, Renoux, here
+to-night so that you and he can clear up a terrible
+misunderstanding.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And Monsieur Renoux, once a student of architecture
+at the Beaux Arts, is now Captain Renoux of
+the Intelligence Department in the French Army&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie lost her colour and a tremor passed
+through the arm which lay within his.</p>
+<p>But he said calmly:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;It is the only way as well as the best way, Thessa.
+I know you are absolutely innocent. I am confident
+that Captain Renoux is going to believe it, too. If he
+does not, you are no worse off. Because it has already
+become known to the French Government that
+you are here. Renoux knew it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They had halted; Barres led Thessalie to a seat.
+Renoux, straight, deferential, correct, awaited her
+pleasure.</p>
+<p>She looked up at him; his keen, intelligent eyes met
+hers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you please, Captain Renoux, will you do me
+the honour to be seated?&#8221; she said in a low voice.</p>
+<p>Barres went to her, bent over her hand, touched it
+with his lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just tell him the truth, Thessa, dear,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everything?&#8221; she smiled faintly, &#8220;including our
+first meeting?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres flushed, then laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, tell him about that, too. It was too charming
+for him not to appreciate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And with a half mischievous, half amused nod to
+Renoux he went back to find the dancers, whom he
+could hear laughing far away in his own studio.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>It was nearly one o&#8217;clock when Dulcie, who had been
+sleeping with Thessalie, whispered to Barres that she
+was ready to retire.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, you had better,&#8221; he said, releasing her as
+the dance music ran down and ceased. &#8220;If you don&#8217;t
+get some sleep you won&#8217;t feel like travelling to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you explain to Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course. Good-night, dear.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span></div>
+<p>She gave him her hand in silence, turned and offered
+it to Westmore, then went away toward her room.</p>
+<p>Westmore, who had been fidgeting a lot since Thessalie
+had retired for a tête-à-tête with a perfectly unknown
+and alarmingly good-looking young man whom
+he never before had laid eyes on, finally turned short
+in his restless pacing of the studio.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the deuce can be keeping Thessa?&#8221; he demanded.
+&#8220;And who the devil is that black-eyed young
+sprig of France you brought home with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sit down and I&#8217;ll tell you,&#8221; said Barres crisply,
+instinctively resenting his friend&#8217;s uncalled for solicitude
+in Thessalie&#8217;s behalf.</p>
+<p>So Westmore seated himself and Barres told him
+all about the evening&#8217;s adventures. And he was still
+lingering unctuously over the details of the battle at
+Grogan&#8217;s, the recital of which, Westmore demanding,
+he had begun again, when at the farther end of the
+studio Thessalie appeared, coming toward them.</p>
+<p>Renoux was beside her, very deferential and graceful
+in his attendance, and with that niceness of attitude
+which confesses respect in every movement.</p>
+<p>Thessalie came forward; Barres advanced to meet
+her with the unspoken question in his eyes, and she
+gave him both her hands with a tremulous little smile
+of happiness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it all right?&#8221; he whispered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres turned and grasped Renoux by one hand.</p>
+<p>The latter said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is not the slightest doubt in my mind, mon
+ami. You were perfectly right. A frightful injustice
+has been done in this matter. Of that I am absolutely
+convinced.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will do what you can to set things right?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; said Renoux simply.</p>
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s silence, then Renoux smiled:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know,&#8221; he said lightly, &#8220;we French have a
+horror of any more mistakes like the Dreyfus case.
+We are terribly sensitive. Be assured that my Government
+will take up this affair instantly upon receiving
+my report.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He turned to Barres:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you, perhaps, offer me a day&#8217;s hospitality
+at your home in the country, if I should request it
+by telegram sometime this week or next?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet,&#8221; replied Barres cordially.</p>
+<p>Then Renoux made his adieux, as only such a
+Frenchman can make them, saying exactly the right
+thing to each, in exactly the right manner.</p>
+<p>When he was gone, Barres took Thessalie&#8217;s hands
+and pressed them:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty merle-blanc, your little friend Dulcie is already
+asleep. Tell us to-morrow how you convinced
+him that you are what you are&mdash;the dearest, sweetest
+girl in the world!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She laughed demurely, then glanced apprehensively,
+sideways, at Westmore.</p>
+<p>And the mute but infuriated expression on that
+young man&#8217;s countenance seemed to cause her the loss
+of all self-possession, for she cast one more look at
+him and fled with a hasty &#8220;good-night!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span>
+<a name='XXII_FORELAND_FARMS' id='XXII_FORELAND_FARMS'></a>
+<h2>XXII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />FORELAND FARMS</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>Toward three o&#8217;clock on the following afternoon
+the sun opened up like a searchlight
+through the veil of rain, dissolving it to a
+golden haze which gradually grew thinner and thinner,
+revealing glimpses of rolling country against a horizon
+of low mountains.</p>
+<p>About the same time the covered station wagon
+turned in between the white gates of Foreland Farms,
+proceeded at a smart trot up the drive, and stopped
+under a dripping porte-cochère, where a smiling servant
+stood waiting to lift out the luggage.</p>
+<p>A trim looking man of forty odd, in soft shirt and
+fawn coloured knickers, and wearing a monocle in his
+right eye and a flower in his buttonhole, came out on
+the porch as Barres and his guests descended.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Garry,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I&#8217;m glad you&#8217;re home at
+last! But you&#8217;re rather late for the fishing.&#8221; And
+to Westmore:</p>
+<p>&#8220;How are you, Jim? Jolly to have you back! But
+I regret to inform you that the fishing is very poor
+just now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His son, who stood an inch or two taller than his
+debonaire parent, passed one arm around his shoulders
+and patted them affectionately while the easy presentations
+were concluded.</p>
+<p>At the same moment two women, <ins title='Was beautifuly'>beautifully</ins> mounted
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span>
+and very wet, galloped up to the porch and welcomed
+Garry&#8217;s guests from their saddles in the pleasant, informal,
+incurious manner characteristic of Foreland
+Farm folk&mdash;a manner which seemed too amiably certain
+of itself to feel responsibility for anybody or
+anything else.</p>
+<p>Easy, unconcerned, slender and clean-built women
+these&mdash;Mrs. Reginald Barres, Garry&#8217;s mother, and her
+daughter, Lee. And in their smart, rain-wet riding
+clothes they might easily have been sisters, with a few
+years&#8217; difference between them, so agreeably had Time
+behaved toward Mrs. Barres, so closely her fair-haired,
+fair-skinned daughter resembled her.</p>
+<p>They swung carelessly out of their saddles and set
+spurred foot to turf, and, with Garret and his guests,
+sauntered into the big living hall, where a maid waited
+with wine and biscuits and the housekeeper lingered to
+conduct Thessalie and Dulcie to their rooms.</p>
+<p>Dulcie Soane, in her pretty travelling gown, walked
+beside Mrs. Reginald Barres into the first great house
+she had ever entered. Composed, but shyly enchanted,
+an odd but delightful sensation possessed her that she
+was where she belonged&mdash;that such environment, such
+people should always have been familiar to her&mdash;were
+logical and familiar to her now.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Barres was saying:</p>
+<p>&#8220;And if you like parties, there is always gaiety at
+Northbrook. But you don&#8217;t have to go anywhere or
+do anything you don&#8217;t wish to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie said, diffidently, that she liked everything,
+and Mrs. Barres laughed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you&#8217;ll be very popular,&#8221; she said, tossing her
+riding crop onto the table and stripping off her wet
+gloves.</p>
+<p>Barres senior was already in serious confab with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span>
+Westmore concerning piscatorial conditions, the natural
+low water of midsummer, the capricious conduct
+of the trout in the streams and in the upper and lower
+lakes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They won&#8217;t look at anything until sunset,&#8221; he explained,
+&#8220;and then they don&#8217;t mean business. You&#8217;ll
+see, Jim. I&#8217;m sorry; you should have come in June.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lee, Garret&#8217;s boyishly slim sister, had already begun
+to exchange opinions about horses with Thessalie,
+for both had been familiar with the saddle since childhood,
+though the latter&#8217;s Cossack horsemanship and
+mastery of the haute école, incident to her recent and
+irregular profession, might have astonished Lee Barres.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Barres was saying to Dulcie:</p>
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t try to entertain one another here, but
+everybody seems to have a perfectly good time. The
+main thing is that we all feel quite free at Foreland.
+You&#8217;ll lose yourself indoors at first. The family for
+a hundred years has been adding these absurd two-story
+wings, so that the house wanders at random over
+the landscape, and you may have to inquire your way
+about in the beginning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She smiled again at Dulcie and took her hand in
+both of hers:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure you will like the Farms,&#8221; she said, linking
+her other arm through her son&#8217;s. &#8220;I&#8217;m rather wet,
+Garry,&#8221; she added, &#8220;but I think Lee and I had better
+dry out in the saddle.&#8221; And to Dulcie again: &#8220;Tea
+at five, if anybody wishes it. Would you like to see
+your room?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie, conversing with Lee, turned smilingly to
+be included in the suggestion; and the maid came forward
+to conduct her and Dulcie through the intricacies
+of the big, casual, sprawling house, where rooms and
+corridors and halls rambled unexpectedly and irrelevantly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span>
+in every direction, and one vista seemed to terminate
+in another.</p>
+<p>When they had disappeared, the Barres family
+turned to inspect its son and heir with habitual and
+humorous insouciance, commenting frankly upon his
+personal appearance and concluding that his health
+still remained all that could be desired by the most solicitous
+of parents and sisters.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are rods already rigged up in the work-room,&#8221;
+remarked his father, &#8220;if you and your guests
+care to try a dry-fly this evening. As for me, you&#8217;ll
+find me somewhere around the upper lake, if you care
+to look for me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He fished out of his pocket a bewildering tangle of
+fine mist-leaders, and, leisurely disentangling them,
+strolled toward the porch, still talking:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s only one fly they deign to notice, now&mdash;a
+dust-coloured midge tied in reverse with no hackle,
+no tinsel, a May-fly tail, and barred canary wing&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+He nodded wisely over his shoulder at his son and
+Westmore, as though sharing with them a delightful
+secret of world-wide importance, and continued on
+toward the porch, serenely interested in his tangled
+leaders.</p>
+<p>Garret glanced at his mother and sister; they both
+laughed. He said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dad is one of those rarest of modern beings, a genuine
+angler of the old school. After all the myriad
+trout and salmon he has caught in a career devoted to
+fishing, the next fish he catches gives him just as fine
+a thrill as did the very first one he ever hooked! It&#8217;s
+quite wonderful, isn&#8217;t it, mother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s probably what keeps him so youthful,&#8221; remarked
+Westmore. &#8220;The thing to do is to have something
+to do. That&#8217;s the elixir of youth. Look at
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span>
+your mother, Garry. She&#8217;s had a busy handful bringing
+you up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Garret looked at his slender, attractive mother and
+laughed again:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that what keeps you so young and pretty,
+mother?&mdash;looking after me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Alas, Garry, I&#8217;m over forty, and I look it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you?&mdash;you sweet little thing!&#8221; he interrupted,
+picking her up suddenly from the floor and marching
+proudly around the room with her. &#8220;Gaze upon my
+mother, Jim! Isn&#8217;t she cunning? Isn&#8217;t she the smartest
+little thing in America? Behave yourself, mother!
+Your grateful son is showing you off to the appreciative
+young gentleman from New York&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re ridiculous! Jim! Make him put me down!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But her tall son swung her to his shoulder and placed
+her high on the mantel shelf over the huge fireplace;
+where she sat beside the clock, charming, resentful,
+but helpless, her spurred boots dangling down.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on, Lee!&#8221; cried her brother, &#8220;I&#8217;m going to
+put you up beside her. That mantel needs ornamental
+bric-a-brac and objets d&#8217;art&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lee turned to escape, but her brother cornered and
+caught her, and swung her high, seating her beside his
+indignant mother.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just as though we were two Angora kittens,&#8221; remarked
+Lee, sidling along the stone shelf toward her
+mother. Then she glanced out through the open front
+door. &#8220;Lift us down, quick, Garry. You&#8217;d better!
+The horses are in the flower beds and there&#8217;ll be no
+more bouquets for the table in another minute!&#8221;</p>
+<p>So he lifted them off the mantel and they hastily
+departed, each administering correction with her riding
+crop as she dodged past him and escaped.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If your guests want horses you know where to find
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span>
+them!&#8221; called back his sister from the porch. And
+presently she and his mother, securely mounted, went
+cantering away across country, where grass and fern
+and leaf and blossom were glistening in the rising
+breeze, weighted down with diamond drops of rain.</p>
+<p>Westmore walked leisurely toward his quarters, to
+freshen up and don knickers. Garret followed him into
+the west wing, whistling contentedly under his breath,
+inspecting each remembered object with great content
+as he passed, nodding smilingly to the servants he encountered,
+lingering on the landing to acknowledge the
+civilities of the ancient family cat, who recognised him
+with effusion but coyly fled the advances of Westmore,
+ignoring all former and repeated introductions.</p>
+<p>Their rooms adjoined and they conversed through
+the doorway while engaged in ablutions.</p>
+<p>Presently, from behind his sheer sash-curtains, Westmore
+caught sight of Thessalie on the west terrace below.
+She wore a shell-pink frock and a most distractingly
+pretty hat; and he hurried his dressing as much
+as he could without awaking Garret&#8217;s suspicions.</p>
+<p>A few minutes later, radiant in white flannels, he
+appeared on the terrace, breathing rather fast but
+wreathed in persuasive smiles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know this place; I&#8217;ll take you for a walk where
+you won&#8217;t get your shoes wet. Shall I?&#8221; he suggested,
+with all his guile and cunning quite plain to Thessalie,
+and his purpose perfectly transparent to her smiling
+eyes.</p>
+<p>But she consented prettily, and went with him without
+demurring, picking her way over the stepping-stone
+walk with downcast gaze and the trace of a smile on
+her lips&mdash;a smile as delicately indefinable as the fancy
+which moved her to accept this young man&#8217;s headlong
+advances&mdash;which had recognized them and accepted
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span>
+them from the first. But why, she did not even yet
+understand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Agreeable weather, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; said Westmore, fatuously
+revealing his present paucity of ideas apart from
+those which concerned the wooing of her. And he was
+an intelligent young man at that, and a sculptor of
+attainment, too. But now, in his infatuated head,
+there remained room only for one thought, the thought
+of this girl who walked so demurely and daintily beside
+him over the flat, grass-set stepping stones toward
+the three white pines on the little hill.</p>
+<p>For it had been something or other at first sight with
+Westmore&mdash;love, perhaps&mdash;anyway that is what he
+called the mental chaos which now disorganised him.
+And it was certain that something happened to him the
+first time he laid eyes on Thessalie Dunois. He knew
+it, and she could not avoid seeing it, so entirely naïve
+his behaviour, so utterly guileless his man&oelig;uvres, so
+direct, unfeigned and childish his methods of approach.</p>
+<p>At moments she felt nervous and annoyed by his
+behaviour; at other times apprehensive and helpless,
+as though she were responsible for something that did
+not know how to take care of itself&mdash;something immature,
+irrational, and entirely at her mercy. And it
+may have been the feminine response to this increasing
+sense of obligation&mdash;the confused instinct to guide, admonish
+and protect&mdash;that began being the matter with
+her.</p>
+<p>Anyway, from the beginning the man had a certain
+fascination for her, unwillingly divined on her part, yet
+specifically agreeable even to the point of exhilaration.
+Also, somehow or other, the girl realised he had a brain.</p>
+<p>And yet he was a pitiably hopeless case; for even
+now he was saying such things as:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you quite sure that your feet are dry? I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span>
+should never forgive myself, Thessa, if you took cold....
+Are you tired?... How wonderful it is to be
+here alone with you, and strive to interpret the mystery
+of your mind and heart! Sit here under the pines.
+I&#8217;ll spread my coat for you.... Nature is wonderful,
+isn&#8217;t it, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And when she gravely consented to seat herself he
+dropped recklessly onto the wet pine needles at her
+feet, and spoke with imbecile delight again of nature&mdash;of
+how wonderful were its protean manifestations,
+and how its beauties were not meant to be enjoyed
+alone but in mystic communion with another who understood.</p>
+<p>It was curious, too, but this stuff seemed to appeal
+to her, some commonplace chord within her evidently
+responding. She sighed and looked at the mountains.
+They really were miracles of colour&mdash;masses of purest
+cobalt, now, along the horizon.</p>
+<p>But perhaps the trite things they uttered did not
+really matter; probably it made no difference to them
+what they said. And even if he had murmured:
+&#8220;There are milestones along the road to Dover,&#8221; she
+might have responded: &#8220;There was an old woman
+who lived in a shoe&#8221;; and neither of them would have
+heard anything at all except the rapid, confused, and
+voiceless conversation of two youthful human hearts
+beating out endless questions and answers that never
+moved their smiling lips. There was the mystery, if
+any&mdash;the constant wireless current under the haphazard
+flow of words.</p>
+<p>There was no wind in the pines; meadow and pasture,
+woodland and swale stretched away at their feet
+to the distant, dark-blue hills. And all around them
+hung the rain-washed fragrance of midsummer under
+a still, cloudless sky.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;It seems impossible that there can be war anywhere
+in the world,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know,&#8221; he began, &#8220;it&#8217;s getting on my nerves
+the way those swine from the Rhine are turning this
+decent green world into a bloody wallow! Unless we
+do something about it pretty soon, I think I&#8217;ll go
+over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked up:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To France.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She remained silent for a while, merely lifting her
+dark eyes to him at intervals; then she grew preoccupied
+with other thoughts that left her brows bent
+slightly inward and her mouth very grave.</p>
+<p>He gazed reflectively out over the fields and woods:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I can&#8217;t stand it much longer,&#8221; he mused aloud.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What would you do there?&#8221; she inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything. I could drive a car. But if they&#8217;ll
+take me in some Canadian unit&mdash;or one of the Foreign
+Legions&mdash;it would suit me.... You know a man can&#8217;t
+go on just living in the world while this beastly business
+continues&mdash;can&#8217;t go on eating and sleeping and
+shaving and dressing as though half of civilisation were
+not rolling in agony and blood, stabbed through and
+through&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>His voice caught&mdash;he checked himself and slowly
+passed his hand over his smoothly shaven face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Those splendid poilus,&#8221; he said; &#8220;where they stand
+we Americans ought to be standing, too.... God
+knows why we hesitate.... I can&#8217;t tell you what we
+think.... Some of us&mdash;don&#8217;t agree&mdash;with the Administration.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His jaws snapped on the word; he stared out through
+the sunshine at the swallows, now skimming the uncut
+hay fields in their gusty evening flight.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Are you really going?&#8221; she asked, at length.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I&#8217;ll wait a little while longer to see what my
+country is going to do. If it doesn&#8217;t stir during the
+next month or two, I shall go. I think Garry will go,
+too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; he remarked, &#8220;we&#8217;d prefer our own
+flag, Garry and I. But if it is to remain furled&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+He shrugged, picked a spear of grass, and sat brooding
+and breaking it into tiny pieces.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The only thing that troubles me,&#8221; he went on presently,
+keeping his gaze riveted on his busy fingers, &#8220;the
+only thing that worries me is you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; she exclaimed softly. And an inexplicable
+little thrill shot through her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You,&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;You worry me to death.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She considered him a moment, her lips parted as
+though she were about to say something, but it remained
+unsaid, and a slight colour came into her cheeks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What am I to do about you?&#8221; he went on, apparently
+addressing the blade of grass he was staring at.
+&#8220;I can&#8217;t leave you as matters stand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please, you are not responsible for me, are you?&#8221;
+And tried to laugh, but scarcely smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to be,&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;I desire to be entirely&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you. You have been more than kind. And
+very soon I hope I shall be on happy terms with my
+own Government again. Then your solicitude should
+cease.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If your Government listens to reason&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I also could go to France!&#8221; she interrupted.
+&#8220;Merely to think of it excites me beyond words!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked up quickly:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;You wish to go back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can you ask that! If you had been a disgraced
+exile as I have been, as I still am&mdash;and falsely
+accused of shameful things&mdash;annoyed, hounded, blackmailed,
+offered bribes, constantly importuned to become
+what I am not&mdash;a traitor to my own people&mdash;would
+you not be wildly happy to be proven innocent?
+Would you not be madly impatient to return and prove
+your devotion to your own land?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand,&#8221; he said in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course you understand. Do you imagine that
+I, a French girl, would have remained here in shameful
+security if I could have gone back to France and
+helped? I would have done anything&mdash;anything, I
+tell you&mdash;scrubbed the floors of hospitals, worked my
+fingers to the bone&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll wait till you go,&#8221; he said.... &#8220;They&#8217;ll clear
+your record very soon, I expect. I&#8217;ll wait. And we&#8217;ll
+go together. Shall we, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But she had not seemed to hear him; her dark eyes
+grew remote, her gaze swept the sapphire distance.
+It was his hand laid lightly over hers that aroused her,
+and she withdrew her fingers with a frown of remonstrance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t you let me speak?&#8221; he said. &#8220;Won&#8217;t you
+let me tell you what my heart tells me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She shook her head slowly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t desire to hear yet&mdash;I don&#8217;t know where my
+own heart&mdash;or even my mind is&mdash;or what I think about&mdash;anything.
+Please be reasonable.&#8221; She stole a look
+at him to see how he was taking it, and there was concern
+enough in her glance to give him a certain amount
+of hope had he noticed it.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;You like me, Thessa, don&#8217;t you?&#8221; he urged.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have I not admitted it? Do you know that you
+are becoming a serious responsibility to me? You
+worry me, too! You are like a boy with all your emotions
+reflected on your features and every thought perfectly
+unconcealed and every impulse followed by unconsidered
+behaviour.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Be reasonable. I have asked it a hundred times
+of you in vain. I shall ask it, probably, innumerable
+times before you comply with my request. Don&#8217;t show
+so plainly that you imagine yourself in love. It embarrasses
+me, it annoys Garry, and I don&#8217;t know what
+his family will think&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But if I <i>am</i> in love, why not&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does one advertise all one&#8217;s most intimate and secret
+and&mdash;and sacred emotions?&#8221; she interrupted in
+sudden and breathless annoyance. &#8220;It is not the way
+that successful courtship is conducted, I warn you!
+It is not delicate, it is not considerate, it is not sensible....
+And I <i>do</i> want you to&mdash;to be always&mdash;sensible
+and considerate. I <i>want</i> to like you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked at her in a sort of dazed way:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll try to please you,&#8221; he said. &#8220;But it seems to
+confuse me&mdash;being so suddenly bowled over&mdash;a thing
+like that rather knocks a man out&mdash;so unexpected, you
+know!&mdash;and there isn&#8217;t much use pretending,&#8221; he went
+on excitedly. &#8220;I can&#8217;t see anybody else in the world
+except you! I can&#8217;t think of anybody else! I&#8217;m
+madly in love&mdash;blindly, desperately&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please, <i>please</i>!&#8221; she remonstrated. &#8220;I&#8217;m not
+a girl to be taken by storm! I&#8217;ve seen too much&mdash;lived
+too much! I&#8217;m not a Tzigane to be galloped
+alongside of and swung to a man&#8217;s saddle-bow! Also,
+I shall tell you one thing more. Happiness and laughter
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span>
+are necessities to me! And they seem to be becoming
+extinct in you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hang it!&#8221; he demanded tragically, &#8220;how can I
+laugh when I&#8217;m in love!&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that a sudden, irresponsible little peal of laughter
+parted her lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, dear!&#8221; she said, &#8220;you <i>are</i> funny! Is it a matter
+of prayer and fasting, then, this gloomy sentiment
+which you say you entertain for me? I don&#8217;t know
+whether to be flattered or vexed&mdash;you are <i>so</i> funny!&#8221;
+And her laughter rang out again, clear and uncontrolled.</p>
+<p>The girl was quite irresistible in her care-free gaiety;
+her lovely face and delicious laughter no man
+could utterly withstand, and presently a faint grin
+became visible on his features.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; she cried gaily, &#8220;you are becoming human
+and not a Grecian mask or a gargoyle! Remain so,
+mon ami, if you expect me to wish you good luck
+in your love&mdash;your various affairs&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She blushed
+as she checked herself. But he said very quickly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you wish me luck, Thessa, in my various love
+affairs?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How many have you on hand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly one. Do you wish me a sporting chance?
+Do you, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;yes&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you wish me good luck in my courtship of
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The quick colour again swept her cheeks at that,
+but she laughed defiantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I wish you luck in that, also.
+Only remember this&mdash;whether you win or lose you must
+laugh. <i>That</i> is good sportsmanship. Do you promise?
+Very well! Then I wish you the best of luck
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span>
+in your&mdash;various&mdash;courtships! And may the girl you
+win at least know how to laugh!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She certainly does,&#8221; he said so naïvely that they
+both gave way to laughter again, finding each other
+delightfully absurd.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the key to my heart, laughter&mdash;in case you are
+looking for the key,&#8221; she said daringly. &#8220;The world
+is a grim scaffold, mon ami; mount it gaily and go
+to the far gods laughing. Tell me, is there a better
+way to go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No; it&#8217;s the right way, Thessa. I shan&#8217;t be a
+gloom any more. Come on; let&#8217;s walk! What if you
+do get your bally shoes wet! I&#8217;m through mooning
+and fussing and worrying over you, young lady!
+You&#8217;re as sturdy and vigorous as I am. After all,
+it&#8217;s a comrade a man wants in the world&mdash;not a white
+mouse in cotton batting! Come! Are you going for
+a brisk walk across country? Or are you a white
+mouse?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She stood up in her dainty shoes and frail gown
+and cast a glance of hurt reproach at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be brutal,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I&#8217;m not dressed to
+climb trees and fences with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t come?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Their eyes met in silent conflict for a few moments.
+Then she said: &#8220;Please don&#8217;t make me.... It&#8217;s such
+a darling gown, Jim.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A wave of deep happiness enveloped him and he
+laughed: &#8220;All right,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I won&#8217;t ask you to
+spoil your frock!&#8221; And he spread his coat on the pine
+needles for her once more.</p>
+<p>She considered the situation for a few moments before
+she sat down. But she did seat herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; he said, &#8220;we are going to discuss a situation.
+This is the situation: I am deeply in love. And
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span>
+you&#8217;re quite right, it&#8217;s no funeral; it&#8217;s a joyous thing
+to be in love. It&#8217;s a delight, a gaiety, a happy enchantment.
+Isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She cast a rather shy and apprehensive glance at
+him, but nodded slightly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I&#8217;m in love, and I&#8217;m happy
+and proud to be in love. What I wish then, naturally,
+is marriage, a home, children&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please, Jim!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I can&#8217;t have &#8217;em! Why? Because I&#8217;m going
+to France. And the girl I wish to marry is going also.
+And while I bang away at the boche she makes herself
+useful in canteens, rest-houses, hospitals, orphanages,
+everywhere, in fact, where she is needed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And after it&#8217;s all over&mdash;all over&mdash;and ended&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then&mdash;then if she finds out that she loves me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Jim&mdash;if she finds that out.... And thank
+you for&mdash;asking me&mdash;so sweetly.&#8221;... She turned
+sharply and looked out over a valley suddenly blurred.</p>
+<p>For it had been otherwise with her in years gone
+by, and men had spoken then quite as plainly but differently.
+Only d&#8217;Eblis, burnt out, done for, and obsessed,
+had wearily and unwillingly advanced that far.... And
+Ferez, too; but that was unthinkable of a
+creature in whom virtue and vice were of the same virus.</p>
+<p>Looking blindly out over the valley she said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If my Government deals justly with me, then I
+shall go to France with you as your comrade. If I
+ever find that I love you I will be your wife.... Until
+then&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She stretched out her hand, not looking
+around at him; and they exchanged a quick, firm
+clasp.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></div>
+<p>And so matters progressed between, these two&mdash;rather
+ominously for Barres, in case he entertained
+any really serious sentiments in regard to Thessalie.
+And, recently, he had been vaguely conscious that he
+entertained something or other concerning the girl
+which caused him to look with slight amazement and
+unsympathetic eyes upon the all too obvious behaviour
+of his comrade Westmore.</p>
+<p>At present he was standing in the summer house
+which terminated the blossoming tunnel of the rose arbour,
+watching water falling into a stone basin from
+the fishy mouth of a wall fountain, and wondering
+where Thessalie and Westmore had gone.</p>
+<p>Dulcie, in a thin white frock and leghorn hat, roaming
+entranced and at hazard over lawn and through
+shrubbery and garden, encountered him there, still
+squinting abstractedly at the water spout.</p>
+<p>It was the first time the girl had seen him since their
+arrival at Foreland Farms. And now, as she paused
+under the canopy of fragrant rain-drenched roses and
+looked at this man who had made all this possible for
+her, she suddenly felt the change within herself, fitting
+her for it all&mdash;a subtle metamorphosis completing
+itself within her&mdash;the final accomplishment of a
+transmutation, deep, radical, permanent.</p>
+<p>For her, the stark, starved visage which Life had
+worn had relaxed; in the grim, forbidding wall which
+had closed her horizon, a door opened, showing a corner
+of a world where she knew, somehow, she belonged.</p>
+<p>And in her heart, too, a door seemed to open, and
+her youthful soul stepped out of it, naked, fearless,
+quite certain of itself and, for the first time during
+their brief and earthly partnership, quite certain of
+the body wherein it dwelt.</p>
+<p>He was thinking of Thessalie when Dulcie came
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span>
+up and stood beside him, looking down into the water
+where a few goldfish swam.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Sweetness,&#8221; he said, brightening, &#8220;you look
+very wonderful in white, with that big hat on your very
+enchanting red hair.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I feel both wonderful and enchanted,&#8221; she said,
+lifting her eyes. &#8220;I shall live in the country some day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really?&#8221; he said smiling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, when I earn enough money. Do you remember
+the crazy way Strindberg rolls around? Well, I
+feel like doing it on that lawn.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go ahead and do it,&#8221; he urged. But she only
+laughed and chased the goldfish around the basin with
+gentle fingers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you&#8217;re unfolding, you&#8217;re blossoming,
+you&#8217;re developing feminine snap and go and
+pep and je-ne-sais-quoi.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re teasing. But I believe I&#8217;m very feminine&mdash;and
+mature&mdash;though you don&#8217;t think so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t think you&#8217;re exactly at an age called
+well-preserved,&#8221; he said, laughing. He took her hands
+and drew her up to confront him. &#8220;You&#8217;re not too
+old to have me as a playmate, Sweetness, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She seemed to be doubtful.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What! Nonsense! And you&#8217;re not too old to be
+bullied and coaxed and petted&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;re not too old to pose for me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She grew pink and looked down at the submerged
+goldfish. And, keeping her eyes there:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wanted to ask you,&#8221; she said, &#8220;how much longer
+you think you would require me&mdash;that way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Then she looked at him out
+of her frank grey eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know I&#8217;ll do what you wish,&#8221; she said. &#8220;And
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span>
+I know it is quite all right....&#8221; She smiled at him.
+&#8220;I belong to you: you made me.... And you know
+all about me. So you ought to use me as you wish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t want to pose?&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, except&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you annoyed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Sweetness. It&#8217;s all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are annoyed&mdash;disappointed! And I won&#8217;t
+have it. I&mdash;I couldn&#8217;t stand it&mdash;to have you displeased&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He said pleasantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not displeased, Dulcie. And there&#8217;s no use
+discussing it. If you have the slightest feeling that
+way, when we go back to town I&#8217;ll do things like the
+Arethusa from somebody else&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please don&#8217;t!&#8221; she exclaimed in such naïve alarm
+that he began to laugh and she blushed vividly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you are feminine, all right!&#8221; he said. &#8220;If it
+isn&#8217;t to be you it isn&#8217;t to be anybody.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t mean that.... <i>Yes</i>, I did!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Dulcie! Shame! <i>You</i> jealous!&mdash;even to the
+verge of sacrificing your own feelings&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what it is, but I&#8217;d rather you used
+me for your Arethusa. You know,&#8221; she added wistfully,
+&#8220;that we began it together.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Right, Sweetness. And we&#8217;ll finish it together or
+not at all. Are you satisfied?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She smiled, sighed, nodded. He released her lovely,
+childlike hands and she walked to the doorway of the
+summer house and looked out over the wall-bed, where
+tall thickets of hollyhock and blue larkspur stretched
+away in perspective toward a grove of trees and a little
+pond beyond.</p>
+<p>His painter&#8217;s eye, already busy with the beauty of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span>
+her face and figure against the riot of flowers, and
+almost mechanically transposing both into terms of
+colour and value, went blind suddenly as she turned
+and looked at him.</p>
+<p>And for the first time&mdash;perhaps with truer vision&mdash;he
+became aware of what else this young girl was
+besides a satisfying combination of tint and contour&mdash;this
+lithe young thing palpitating with life&mdash;this
+slender, gently breathing girl with her grey eyes meeting
+his so candidly&mdash;this warm young human being
+who belonged more truly in the living scheme of things
+than she did on painted canvas or in marble.</p>
+<p>From this unexpected angle, and suddenly, he found
+himself viewing her for the first time&mdash;not as a plaything,
+not as a petted model, not as an object appealing
+to his charity, not as an experiment in altruism&mdash;nor
+sentimentally either, nor as a wistful child without
+a childhood.</p>
+<p>Perhaps, to him, she had once been all of these. He
+looked at her with other eyes now, beginning, possibly,
+to realise something of the terrific responsibility he
+was so lightly assuming.</p>
+<p>He got up from his bench and went over to her;
+and the girl turned a trifle pale with excitement and
+delight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did you come to me?&#8221; she asked breathlessly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you know I was trying to make you get up
+and come to me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes! Isn&#8217;t it curious? I looked at you and kept
+thinking, &#8216;I want you to get up and come to me! I
+want you to <i>come</i>! I <i>want</i> you!&#8217; And suddenly you
+got up and came!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked at her out of curious, unsmiling eyes:</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s your turn, after all, Dulcie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How is it my turn?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I drew you&mdash;in the beginning,&#8221; he said slowly.</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Then, abruptly, her heart
+began to beat very rapidly, scaring her dumb with its
+riotous behaviour. When at length her consternation
+subsided and her irregular breathing became composed,
+she said, quite calmly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You and all that you are and believe in and care
+for very naturally attracted me&mdash;drew me one evening
+to your open door.... It will always be the
+same&mdash;you, and what of life and knowledge you represent&mdash;will
+never fail to draw me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;though I am just beginning to divine it&mdash;you
+also drew <i>me</i>, Dulcie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How could that be?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did. You do still. I am just waking up to
+that fact. And that starts me wondering what I&#8217;d
+do without you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t have to do without me,&#8221; she said, instinctively
+laying her hand over her heart; it was beating
+so hard and, she feared, so loud. &#8220;You can always
+have me when you wish. You know that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For a while, yes. But some day, when&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Always!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed without knowing why.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll marry some day, Sweetness,&#8221; he insisted.</p>
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes you will&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But she only looked away and shook her head. And
+the silent motion of dissent gave him an odd sense of
+relief.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span>
+<a name='XXIII_A_LION_IN_THE_PATH' id='XXIII_A_LION_IN_THE_PATH'></a>
+<h2>XXIII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />A LION IN THE PATH</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>With the decline of day came enough of a
+chill to spin a delicate cobweb of mist across
+the country and cover forests and hills with
+a bluish bloom.</p>
+<p>The sunset had become a splashy crimson affair, perhaps
+a bit too theatrical. In the red blaze Thessalie
+and Westmore came wandering down from the three
+pines on the hill, and found Barres on the lawn scowling
+at the celestial conflagration in the west, and Dulcie
+seated near on the fountain rim, silent, distrait,
+watching the scarlet ripples spreading from the plashing
+central jet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t paint a thing like that, Garry,&#8221; remarked
+Westmore. Barres looked around:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want to. Where have you been, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Under those pines over there. We supposed you&#8217;d
+see us and come up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres glanced at her with an inscrutable expression;
+Dulcie&#8217;s grey eyes rested on Barres. Thessalie
+walked over to the reddened pool.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s like a prophecy of blood, that water,&#8221; she
+said. &#8220;And over there the world is in flames.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Western World,&#8221; added Westmore, &#8220;I hope
+it&#8217;s an omen that we shall soon catch fire. How long
+are you going to wait, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres started to answer, but checked himself, and
+glanced across at Dulcie without knowing exactly why.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; he said irresolutely. &#8220;I&#8217;m fed up
+now.... But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he continued to look vaguely at
+Dulcie, as though something of his uncertainty remotely
+concerned her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m ready to go over when you are,&#8221; remarked
+Westmore, placidly smiling at Thessalie, who immediately
+presented her pretty profile to him and settled
+down on the fountain rim beside Dulcie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Darling,&#8221; she said, &#8220;it&#8217;s about time to dress. Are
+you going to wear that enchanting white affair we discovered
+at <ins title="Was Mendel's">Mandel&#8217;s</ins>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres senior came sauntering out of the woods and
+through the wall gate, switching a limber rod reflectively.
+He obligingly opened his creel and displayed
+half a dozen long, slim trout.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They all took that midge fly I described to you this
+afternoon,&#8221; he said, with the virtuous satisfaction of
+all prophets.</p>
+<p>Everybody inspected the crimson-flecked fish while
+Barres senior stood twirling his monocle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are we dining at home?&#8221; inquired his son.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe so. There is a guest of honour, if I recollect&mdash;some
+fellow they&#8217;re lionising&mdash;I don&#8217;t remember....
+And one or two others&mdash;the Gerhardts, I
+believe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then we&#8217;d better dress, I think,&#8221; said Thessalie,
+encircling Dulcie&#8217;s waist.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry,&#8221; said Barres senior, &#8220;hoped to take you
+young ladies out on the second lake and let you try
+for a big fish this evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He walked across the lawn beside them, switching his
+rod as complacently as a pleased cat twitches its tail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll try it to-morrow evening,&#8221; he continued reassuringly,
+as though all their most passionate hopes
+had been bound up in the suggested sport; &#8220;it&#8217;s rather
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span>
+annoying&mdash;I can&#8217;t remember who&#8217;s dining with us&mdash;some
+celebrated Irishman&mdash;poet of sorts&mdash;literary
+chap&mdash;guest of the Gerhardts&mdash;neighbours, you know.
+It&#8217;s a nuisance to bother with dinner when the trout
+rise only after sunset.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you ever dine willingly, Mr. Barres, while
+the trout are rising?&#8221; inquired Thessalie, laughing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never willingly,&#8221; he replied in a perfectly sincere
+voice. &#8220;I prefer to remain near the water and have
+a bit of supper when I return.&#8221; He smiled at Thessalie
+indulgently. &#8220;No doubt it amuses you, but I
+wager that you and little Miss Soane here will feel
+exactly as I do after you&#8217;ve caught your first big
+trout.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They entered the house together, followed by Garry
+and Westmore.</p>
+<p>A dim, ruddy glow still lingered in the quiet rooms;
+every window glass was still lighted by the sun&#8217;s smouldering
+ashes sinking in the west; no lamps had yet
+been lighted on the ground floor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the magic hour on the water,&#8221; Barres senior
+confided to Dulcie, &#8220;and here I am, doomed to a stiff
+shirt and table talk. In other words, nailed!&#8221; And
+he gave her a mysterious, melancholy, but significant
+look as though she alone were really fitted to understand
+the distressing dilemmas of an angler.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would it be too late to fish after dinner?&#8221; ventured
+Dulcie. &#8220;I&#8217;d love to go with you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you, really!&#8221; he exclaimed, warmly grateful.
+&#8220;That is the spirit I admire in a girl! It&#8217;s human,
+it&#8217;s discriminating! And yet, do you know, nobody
+except myself in this household seems to care
+very much about angling? And, actually, I don&#8217;t believe
+there is another soul in this entire house who
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span>
+would care to miss dinner for the sake of landing the
+finest trout in the second lake!&mdash;unless you would?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I really would!&#8221; said Dulcie, smiling. &#8220;Please try
+me, Mr. Barres.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, I shall! I&#8217;ll give you one of my pet rods,
+too! I&#8217;ll&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The rich, metallic murmur of a temple gong broke
+out in the dim quiet of the house. It was the dressing
+bell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll talk it over at dinner&mdash;if they&#8217;ll let me sit
+by you,&#8221; whispered Barres senior. And with the smile
+and the cautionary gesture of the true conspirator, he
+went away in the demi-light.</p>
+<p>Thessalie came from the bay window, where she had
+been with Westmore and Garry, and she and Dulcie
+walked away toward the staircase hall, leisurely followed
+by the two men who, however, turned again into
+the western wing.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Dulcie was the first to reappear and descend the
+stairs of the north wing&mdash;a willowy white shape in the
+early dusk, slim as a young spirit in the lamplit silence.</p>
+<p>Nobody else had come down; a maid was turning
+up a lamp here and there; the plebeian family cat came
+out of the shadows from somewhere and made advances
+as though divining that this quiet stranger was a
+friend to cats.</p>
+<p>So Dulcie stooped to pet her, then wandered on
+through the place and finally into the music room, where
+she seated herself at the piano and touched the keys
+softly in the semi-dusk.</p>
+<p>Among the songs&mdash;words and music&mdash;which her
+mother had left in manuscript, was one which she had
+learned recently,&mdash;&#8220;Blue Eyes&#8221;&mdash;and she played the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span>
+air now, seated there all alone in the subdued lamp
+light.</p>
+<p>Presently people began to appear from above&mdash;Mrs.
+Barres, who motioned her not to rise, and who seated
+herself near, watching the girl&#8217;s slender fingers moving
+on the keys; then Lee, who came and stood beside
+her, followed in a few moments by Thessalie and the
+two younger men.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is that lovely little air you are playing?&#8221;
+inquired Mrs. Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is called &#8216;Blue Eyes,&#8217;&#8221; said Dulcie, absently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have never before heard it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl looked up:</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, my mother wrote it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a silence:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is really exquisite,&#8221; said Mrs. Barres. &#8220;Are
+there words to it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Some people had come into the entrance hall beyond;
+there was the low whirring of an automobile
+outside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my mother made some verses for it,&#8221; replied
+Dulcie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you sing them for me after dinner?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I shall be happy to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Barres turned to welcome her new guests, now
+entering the music room convoyed by Barres senior, who
+was arrayed in the dreaded &#8220;stiff shirt&#8221; and already
+indulging in &#8220;table talk.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They took,&#8221; he was explaining, &#8220;a midge-fly with
+no hackle&mdash;Claire, here are the Gerhardts and Mr.
+Skeel!&#8221; And while his wife welcomed them and introductions
+were effected, he continued explaining the construction
+of the midge to anybody who listened.</p>
+<p>At the first mention of Murtagh Skeel&#8217;s name, the
+glances of Westmore, Garry and Thessalie crossed like
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span>
+lightning, then their attention became riveted on this
+tall, graceful, romantic looking man of early middle
+age, who was being lionised at Northbrook.</p>
+<p>The next moment Garry stepped back beside Dulcie
+Soane, who had turned white as a flower and was
+gazing at Skeel as though she had seen a ghost.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you suppose he can be the same man your
+mother knew?&#8221; he whispered, dropping his arm and
+taking her trembling hand in a firm clasp.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.... I seem to feel so.... I can&#8217;t
+explain to you how it pierced my heart&mdash;the sound
+of his name.... Oh, Garry!&mdash;suppose it is true&mdash;that
+he is the man my mother knew&mdash;and cared for!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Before he could speak, cocktails were served, and
+Adolf Gerhardt, a large, bearded, pompous man, engaged
+him in explosive conversation:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, this fellow Corot Mandel is producing a new
+spectacle-play on my lawn to-morrow evening. Your
+family and your guests are invited, of course. And
+for the dance, also&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He included Dulcie in a
+pompous bow, finished his cocktail with another flourish:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will find my friend Skeel very attractive,&#8221; he
+went on. &#8220;You know who he is?&mdash;<i>the</i> Murtagh Skeel
+who writes those Irish poems of the West Coast&mdash;and
+is not, I believe, very well received in England
+just now&mdash;a matter of nationalism&mdash;patriotism, eh?
+Why should it surprise your Britisher, eh?&mdash;if a gentleman
+like Murtagh Skeel displays no sympathy for
+England?&mdash;if a gentleman like my friend, Sir Roger
+Casement, prefers to live in Germany?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Garry, under his own roof, said pleasantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wouldn&#8217;t do for us to discuss those things, I
+fear, Mr. Gerhardt. And your Irish lion seems to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span>
+be very gentle and charming. He must be fascinating
+to women.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Gerhardt threw up his hands:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Lord! They would like to eat him! Or be
+eaten by him! You know? It is that way always
+between the handsome poet and the sex. Which eats
+which is of no consequence, so long as they merge.
+Eh?&#8221; And his thunderous laughter set the empty
+glasses faintly ringing on the butler&#8217;s silver tray.</p>
+<p>Garry spoke to Mrs. Gerhardt, a large, pallid,
+slabby German who might have been somebody&#8217;s
+kitchen maid, but had been born a <i>von</i>.</p>
+<p>Later, as dinner was announced, he contrived to
+speak to Thessalie aside:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gerhardt,&#8221; he whispered, &#8220;doesn&#8217;t recognise you,
+of course.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No; I&#8217;m not at all apprehensive.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yet, it was on his yacht&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He never even looked twice at me. You know what
+he thought me to be? Very well, he had only social
+ambitions then. I think that&#8217;s all he has now. You
+see what he got with his Red Eagle,&#8221; nodding calmly
+toward Mrs. Gerhardt, who now was being convoyed
+out by the monocled martyr in the &#8220;stiff shirt.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The others passed out informally; Lee had slipped
+her arm around Dulcie. As Garry and Thessalie
+turned to follow, he said in a low voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You feel quite secure, then, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She halted, put her lips close to his ear, unnoticed
+by those ahead:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly. The Gerhardts are what you call fatheads&mdash;easily
+used by anybody, dangerous to no one,
+governed by greed alone, without a knowledge of any
+honour except the German sort. But that Irish
+dreamer over there, <i>he</i> is dangerous! That type always
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span>
+is. He menaces the success of any enterprise
+to which his quixotic mind turns, because it instantly
+becomes a fixed idea with him&mdash;an obsession, a monomania!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She took his arm and walked on beside him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know that fascinating, hot-headed, lovable type
+of mystic visionary,&#8221; she said, &#8220;handsome, romantic,
+illogical, governed entirely by emotion, not fickle
+yet never to be depended on; not faithless, but absolutely
+irresponsible and utterly ignorant of fear!...
+My father was that sort. <i>Not</i> the hunting cheetah
+Cyril and Ferez pretended. And it was in <i>defence</i> of
+a woman that my father died.... Thank God!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who told you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Captain Renoux&mdash;the other night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad, Thessa!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She held her flushed head high and smiled at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; she said, &#8220;after all it is in my blood
+to be decent.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>The Gerhardts, racially vulgar and socially blunt&mdash;for
+the inherent vulgarity of the Teutonic peoples
+is an axiom among the civilised&mdash;made themselves characteristically
+conspicuous at the flower-laden table;
+but it was on Murtagh Skeel that all eyes became ultimately
+focused to the limit of good-breeding. He was
+the lode-star&mdash;he was the magnet, the vanishing point
+for all curiosity, all surmises, all interest.</p>
+<p>Perfect breeding, perfect unconsciousness of self,
+were his minted marks to guarantee the fineness of his
+metal. He was natural without effort, winning in
+voice, in manner, in grace of mind and body, this fascinating
+Irishman of letters&mdash;a charming listener, a
+persuasive speaker, modest, light hearted, delightfully
+deferential.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span></div>
+<p>Seated on the right of Mrs. Barres, his smiling
+hostess very quickly understood the situation and made
+it pleasantly plain to everybody that her guest of
+honour was not to be privately monopolised.</p>
+<p>So almost immediately all currents of conversation
+flowed from all sides toward this dark-eyed, handsome
+man, and in return the silver-tongued tide of many
+currents&mdash;the Irish Sea at its sparkling flood&mdash;flowed
+prettily and spread out from its perennial source within
+him, and washed and rippled gently over every separate
+dinner plate, so that nobody seemed neglected,
+and there was jetsam and beach-combing for all.</p>
+<p>And it was inevitable, presently, that Murtagh
+Skeel&#8217;s conversation should become autobiographical
+in some degree, and his careless, candid, persuasive
+phrases turn into little gemlike memories. For he
+came ultimately, of course, to speak of Irish nationalism
+and what it meant; of the Celt as he had been
+and must remain&mdash;utterly unchanged, as long as the
+last Celt remained alive on earth.</p>
+<p>The subject, naturally, invaded the fairy lore, wild
+legend and lovely mysticism of the West Coast; and
+centred about his own exquisite work of interpreting it.</p>
+<p>He spoke of it very modestly, as his source of inspiration,
+as the inception of his own creative work
+in that field. But always, through whatever he said,
+rang low and clear his passionate patriotism and the
+only motive which incited him to creative effort&mdash;his
+longing for national autonomy and the re-gathering
+of a scattered people in preparation for its massed
+journey toward its Destiny.</p>
+<p>His voice was musical, his words unconscious poetry.
+Without effort, without pains, alas!&mdash;without logic&mdash;he
+held every ear enthralled there in the soft candlelight
+and subdued glimmer of crystal and of silver.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span></div>
+<p>His was the magic of shadow and half-lights, of
+vague nuances and lost outlines, and the valued degrees
+of impinging shade. No sharp contours, no
+stark, uncompromising shapes, no brutality of raw
+daylight, and&mdash;alas!&mdash;no threat of uncompromising
+logic invaded his realm of dreamy demi-lights and faded
+fantasies.</p>
+<p>He reigned there, amid an enchanted twilight of his
+own creation, the embodiment of Irish romance, tender,
+gay, sweet-minded, persuasive, gallant&mdash;and
+tragic, when, at some unexpected moment, the frail
+veil of melancholy made his dark eyes less brilliant.</p>
+<p>All yielded to his charm&mdash;even the stuffed Teutons,
+gorging gravy; all felt his sway over mind and heart,
+nor cared to analyse it, there in the soft light of candles
+and the scent of old-fashioned flowers.</p>
+<p>There arose some question concerning Sir Roger
+Casement.</p>
+<p>Murtagh Skeel spoke of him with the pure enthusiasm
+of passionate belief in a master by a humble disciple.
+And the Teutons grunted assent.</p>
+<p>The subject of the war had been politely avoided,
+yet, somehow, it came out that Murtagh Skeel had
+served in Britain&#8217;s army overseas, as an enlisted man
+in some Irish regiment&mdash;a romantic impulse of the
+moment, involving a young man&#8217;s crazy plan to foment
+rebellion in India. Which little gem of a memoire
+presently made the fact of his exile self-explanatory.
+Yet, he contrived that the ugly revelation
+should end in laughter&mdash;an outbreak of spontaneous
+mirth through which his glittering wit passed like
+lightning, cauterising the running sore of treason....</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Coffee served, the diners drifted whither it suited
+them, together or singly.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span></div>
+<p>Like an errant spirit, Dulcie moved about at hazard
+amid the softened lights, engaged here, approached
+there, pausing, wandering on, nowhere in particular,
+yet ever listlessly in motion.</p>
+<p>Encountering her near the porch, Barres senior had
+paused to whisper that there was no hope for any fishing
+that evening; and she had lingered to smile after
+him, as, unreconciled, he took his stiff-shirted way
+toward the pallid, bejewelled, unanimated mass of Mrs.
+Gerhardt, settled in the widest armchair and absorbing
+cordial.</p>
+<p>A moment later the girl encountered Garry. He
+remained with her for a while, evidently desiring to be
+near her without finding anything in particular to say.
+And when he, in turn, moved elsewhere, obeying some
+hazy mandate of hospitality, he became conscious of
+a reluctance to leave her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know, Sweetness,&#8221; he said, lingering, &#8220;that
+you wear a delicate beauty to-night lovelier than I
+have ever seen in you? You are not only a wonderful
+girl, Dulcie; you are growing into an adorable woman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl looked back at him, blushing vividly in her
+sheer surprise&mdash;watched him saunter away out of her
+silent sphere of influence before she found any word
+to utter&mdash;if, indeed, she had been seeking any, so
+deeply, so painfully sweet had sunk his words into
+every fibre of her untried, defenceless youth.</p>
+<p>Now, as her cheeks cooled, and she came to herself
+and moved again, there seemed to grow around her a
+magic and faintly fragrant radiance through which
+she passed&mdash;whither, she paid no heed, so exquisitely
+her breast was thrilling under the hurrying pulses of
+her little heart.... And presently found herself on
+the piano bench, quite motionless, her gaze remote, her
+fingers resting on the keys.... And, after a long
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span>
+while, she heard an old air stealing through the silence,
+and her own voice,&mdash;<i>à demi-voix</i>&mdash;repeating her
+mother&#8217;s words:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>I</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;Were they as wise as they are blue&mdash;</p>
+<p class='indent26'>My eyes&mdash;</p>
+<p>They&#8217;d teach me not to trust in you!&mdash;</p>
+<p>If they were wise as they are blue.</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>But they&#8217;re as blithe as they are blue&mdash;</p>
+<p class='indent26'>My eyes&mdash;</p>
+<p>They bid my heart rejoice in you,</p>
+<p>Because they&#8217;re blithe as well as blue.</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Believe and love! my gay heart cries;</p>
+<p>Believe him not! my mind replies;</p>
+<p class='indent2'>What shall I do</p>
+<p>When heart affirms and sense denies</p>
+<p>All I reveal within my eyes</p>
+<p class='indent2'>To you?</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>II</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;If they were black instead of blue&mdash;</p>
+<p class='indent26'>My eyes&mdash;</p>
+<p>Perhaps they&#8217;d prove unkind to you!</p>
+<p>If they were black instead of blue.</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>But God designed them blithe and blue&mdash;</p>
+<p class='indent26'>My eyes&mdash;</p>
+<p>Designed them to be kind to you,</p>
+<p>And made them tender, gay and true.</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>Believe me, love, no maid is wise</p>
+<p>When from the windows of her eyes,</p>
+<p class='indent2'>Her heart looks through!</p>
+<p>Alas! My heart, to its surprise,</p>
+<p>Has learned to look; and now it sighs</p>
+<p class='indent2'>For you!&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>She became conscious of somebody near, as she
+ended. She turned and saw Murtagh Skeel at her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span>
+elbow&mdash;saw his agitated, ashen face&mdash;looked beyond
+him and discovered other people gathered in the tinted
+light beyond, listening; then she lifted her clear, still
+gaze again to the white-faced man beside her, and saw
+his shaken soul staring at her through the dark windows
+of <i>his</i> eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where did you learn it?&#8221; he asked with a futile
+effort at that control so difficult for any Celt to grasp
+where the heart is involved.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The song I sang? &#8216;Blue Eyes&#8217;?&#8221; she inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have the manuscript of the composer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Could you tell me where you got it&mdash;and&mdash;and who
+wrote those words you sang?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The manuscript came to me from my mother....
+She wrote it.... I think you knew her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His strong, handsome hand dropped on the piano&#8217;s
+edge, gripped it; and under his pale skin the quick
+blood surged to his temples.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What was your&mdash;your mother&#8217;s name, Miss
+Soane?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She was Eileen Fane.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The throbbing seconds passed and still they looked
+into each other&#8217;s eyes in silence. And at last:</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you did know my mother,&#8221; she said under her
+breath; and the hushed finality of her words set his
+strong hand trembling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eileen&#8217;s little daughter,&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;Eileen
+Fane&#8217;s child.... And grown to womanhood....
+Yes, I knew your mother&mdash;many years ago....
+When I enlisted and went abroad.... Was it Sir
+Terence Soane who married your mother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She shook her head. He stared at her, striving to
+concentrate, to think. &#8220;There were other Soanes,&#8221;
+he muttered, &#8220;the Ellet Water folk&mdash;no?&mdash;&mdash;But
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span>
+there were many Soanes among the landed gentry in
+the East and North.... I cannot seem to recollect&mdash;the
+sudden shock&mdash;hearing a song unexpectedly&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>His white forehead had grown damp under the curly
+hair now clinging to it. He passed his handkerchief
+over his brow in a confused way, then leaned heavily
+on the piano with both hands grasping it. For the
+ghost of his youth was interfering, disputing his control
+over his own mind, filling his ear with forgotten
+words, taking possession of his memory and tormenting
+it with the distant echoes of a voice long dead.</p>
+<p>Through the increasing chaos in his brain his
+strained gaze sought to fix itself on this living, breathing
+face before him&mdash;the child of Eileen Fane.</p>
+<p>He made the effort:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There were the Soanes of Colross&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; But he got
+no farther that way, for the twin spectres of his youth
+and <i>hers</i> were busy with his senses now; and he leaned
+more heavily on the piano, enduring with lowered head
+the ghostly whirlwind rushing up out of that obscurity
+and darkness where once, under summer skies, he
+had sowed a zephyr.</p>
+<p>The girl had become rather white, too. One slim
+hand still rested on the ivory keys, the other lay inert
+in her lap. And after a while she raised her grey
+eyes to this man standing beside her:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you ever hear of my mother&#8217;s marriage?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked at her in a dull way:</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You heard&mdash;nothing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I heard that your mother had left Fane Court.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What was Fane Court?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Murtagh Skeel stared at her in silence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; she said, trembling a little. &#8220;I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span>
+know nothing about my mother. She died when I was
+a few months old.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean that you don&#8217;t know who your mother
+was? You don&#8217;t know who she married?&#8221; he asked,
+astounded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good God!&#8221; he said, gazing at her. His tense
+features were working now; the battle for self-control
+was visible to her, and she sat there dumbly, looking
+on at the mute conflict which suddenly sent the tears
+flashing into his dark eyes and left his sensitive mouth
+twitching.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall not ask you anything now,&#8221; he said unsteadily;
+&#8220;I shall have to see you somewhere else&mdash;where
+there are no people&mdash;to interrupt.... But I shall
+tell you all I know about&mdash;your mother.... I was
+in trouble&mdash;in India. Somehow or other I heard indirectly
+that your mother had left Fane Court. Later
+it was understood that she had eloped.... Nobody
+could tell me the man&#8217;s name.... My people in Ireland
+did not know.... And I was not on good terms
+with your grandfather. So there was no hope of information
+from Fane Court.... I wrote, indeed, begging,
+beseeching for news of your mother. Sir Barry&mdash;your
+grandfather&mdash;returned my letters unopened....
+And that is all I have ever heard concerning
+Eileen Fane&mdash;your mother&mdash;with whom I&mdash;fell in love&mdash;nearly
+twenty years ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dulcie, marble pale, nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew you cared for my mother,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did you learn it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some letters of hers written to you. Letters from
+you to her. I have nothing else of hers except some
+verses and little songs&mdash;like the one you recognised.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Child, she wrote it as I sat beside her!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; His
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span>
+voice choked, broke, and his lips quivered as he fought
+for self-control again.... &#8220;I was not welcome at
+Fane Court.... Sir Barry would not tolerate me....
+Your mother was more kind.... She was very
+young. And so was I, Dulcie.... There were political troubles.
+I was always involved. God knows
+which was the stronger passion&mdash;it must have been love
+of country&mdash;the other seeming hopeless&mdash;with the folk
+at Fane Court my bitter enemies&mdash;only excepting your
+mother.... So I went away.... And which of the
+Soanes your mother eloped with I have never learned....
+Now, tell me&mdash;for you surely know that much.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;There is a man called Soane who tells me sometimes
+that he was once a gamekeeper at what he calls
+&#8216;the big house.&#8217; I have always supposed him to be
+my father until within the last year. But recently,
+when he has been drinking heavily, he sometimes tells
+me that my name is not Soane but Fane.... Did
+you ever know of such a man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. There were gamekeepers about.... No. I
+cannot recall&mdash;and it is impossible! A gamekeeper!
+And your <i>mother</i>! The man is mad! What in God&#8217;s
+name does all this mean!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He began to tremble, and his white forehead under
+the clustering curls grew damp and pinched again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you are Eileen&#8217;s daughter&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; But his face
+went dead white and he got no further.</p>
+<p>People were approaching from behind them, too;
+voices grew distinct in conversation; somebody turned
+up another lamp.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do sing that little song again&mdash;the one you sang
+for Mr. Skeel,&#8221; said Lee Barres, coming up to the
+piano on her brother&#8217;s arm. &#8220;Mrs. Gerhardt has been
+waiting very patiently for an opportunity to ask you.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span>
+<a name='XXIV_A_SILENT_HOUSE' id='XXIV_A_SILENT_HOUSE'></a>
+<h2>XXIV
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />A SILENT HOUSE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The guests from Hohenlinden had departed from
+Foreland Farms; the family had retired. Outside,
+under a sparkling galaxy of summer stars,
+tall trees stood unstirring; indoors nothing stirred except
+the family cat, darkly prowling on velvet-shod
+feet in eternal search of those viewless things which are
+manifest only to the feline race&mdash;sorcerers all, whether
+quadruped or human.</p>
+<p>In various bedrooms upstairs lights went out, one
+after another, until only two windows remained illuminated,
+one in the west wing, one in the north.</p>
+<p>For Dulcie, in her negligée and night robe, still sat
+by the open window, chin resting on palm, her haunted
+gaze remotely lost somewhere beyond the July stars.</p>
+<p>And, in his room, Garry had arrived only as far as
+removing coat and waistcoat in the process of disrobing
+for the night. For his mind was still deeply preoccupied
+with Dulcie Soane and with the strange expression
+of her face at the piano&mdash;and with the profoundly
+altered visage of Murtagh Skeel.</p>
+<p>And he was asking himself what could have happened
+between those two in such a few minutes there
+at the piano in the music-room. For it was evident
+to him that Skeel was labouring under poorly controlled
+emotion, was dazed by it, and was recovering
+self-possession only by a mighty effort.</p>
+<p>And when Skeel had finally taken his leave and had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span>
+gone away with the Gerhardts, he suddenly stopped on
+the porch, returned to the music-room, and, bending
+down, had kissed Dulcie&#8217;s hand with a grace and reverence
+which made the salute more of a serious ceremony
+than the impulsive homage of a romantic poet&#8217;s whim.</p>
+<p>Considered by itself, the abrupt return and quaintly
+perfect salute might have been taken as a spontaneous
+effervescence of that delightful Celtic gallantry so
+easily stirred to ebullition by youth and beauty. And
+for that it was accepted by the others after Murtagh
+Skeel was gone; and everybody ventured to chaff Dulcie
+a little about her conquest&mdash;merely the gentle humour
+of gentlefolk&mdash;a harmless word or two, a smile
+in sympathy.</p>
+<p>Garry alone saw in the girl&#8217;s smile no genuine response
+to the light badinage, and he knew that her
+serenity was troubled, her careless composure forced.</p>
+<p>Later, he contrived to say good-night to her alone,
+and gave her a chance to speak; but she only murmured
+her adieux and went slowly away up the stairs
+with Thessalie, not looking back.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Now, sitting there in his dressing-gown, briar pipe
+alight, he frowned and pondered over the matter in
+the light of what he already knew of Dulcie, of the
+dead mother who bore her, of the grotesquely impossible
+Soane, of this man, Murtagh Skeel.</p>
+<p>What had he and Dulcie found in common to converse
+about so earnestly and so long there in the music-room?
+What had they talked about to drive the colour
+from Dulcie&#8217;s cheeks and alter Skeel&#8217;s countenance
+so that he had looked more like his own wraith than his
+living self?</p>
+<p>That Dulcie&#8217;s mother had known this man, had once,
+evidently, been in love with him more or less, doubtless
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span>
+was revealed in their conversation at the piano. Had
+Skeel enlightened Dulcie any further? And on what
+subject? Soane? Her mother? Her origin&mdash;in case
+the child had admitted ignorance of it? Was Dulcie,
+now, in possession of new facts concerning herself?
+Were they agreeable facts? Were they depressing?
+Had she learned anything definite in regard to her
+birth? Her parentage? Did she know, now, who was
+her real father? Was the obvious absurdity of Soane
+finally exploded? Had she learned what the drunken
+Soane meant by asserting that her name was not Soane
+but Fane?</p>
+<p>His pipe burned out and he laid it aside, but did not
+rise to resume his preparation for bed.</p>
+<p>Then, somewhere from the unlighted depths of the
+house came the sound of the telephone bell&mdash;at that
+hour of night always a slightly ominous sound.</p>
+<p>He got up and went down stairs, not troubling to
+switch on any light, for the lustre of the starry night
+outside silvered every window and made it possible for
+him to see his way.</p>
+<p>At the clamouring telephone, finally, he unhooked
+the receiver:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello?&#8221; he said. &#8220;Yes! Yes! Oh, is that <i>you</i>,
+Renoux? Where on earth are you?... At Northbrook?...
+Where?... At the Summit House?
+Well, why didn&#8217;t you come here to us?... Oh!...
+No, it isn&#8217;t very late. We retire early at Foreland....
+Oh, yes, I&#8217;m dressed.... Certainly.... Yes,
+come over.... Yes!... <i>Yes</i>!... I&#8217;ll wait for
+you in the library.... In an hour?... You bet.
+No, I&#8217;m not sleepy.... Sure thing!... Come on!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He hung up the receiver, turned, and made his way
+through the dusk toward the library which was opposite
+the music-room across the big entrance hall.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span></div>
+<p>Before he turned on any light he paused to look out
+at the splendour of the stars. The night had grown
+warmer; there was no haze, now, only an argentine
+clarity in which shadowy trees stood mysterious and
+motionless and the dim lawn stretched away to the
+distant avenue and wall, lost against their looming border
+foliage.</p>
+<p>Once he thought he heard a slight sound somewhere
+in the house behind him, but presently remembered
+that the family cat held sway among the mice at such
+an hour.</p>
+<p>A little later he turned from the window to light a
+lamp, and found himself facing a slim, white figure in
+the starry dusk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie!&#8221; he exclaimed under his breath.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to talk to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why on earth are you wandering about at this
+hour?&#8221; he asked. &#8220;You made me jump, I can tell
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was awake&mdash;not in bed yet. I heard the telephone.
+Then I went out into the west corridor and
+saw you going down stairs.... Is it all right for me
+to sit here in my night dress with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He smiled:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, considering&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course!&#8221; she said hastily, &#8220;only I didn&#8217;t know
+whether outside your studio&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Dulcie, you&#8217;re becoming self-conscious! Stop
+it, Sweetness. Don&#8217;t spoil things. Here&mdash;tuck yourself
+into this big armchair!&mdash;curl up! There you are.
+And here I am&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; dropping into another wide, deep
+chair. &#8220;Lord! but you&#8217;re a pretty thing, Dulcie, with
+your hair down and all glimmering with starlight!
+We&#8217;ll try painting you that way some day&mdash;I wouldn&#8217;t
+know how to go about it offhand, either. Maybe a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span>
+screened arc-lamp in a dark partition, and a peep-hole&mdash;I
+don&#8217;t know&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He lay back in his chair, studying her, and she
+watched him in silence for a while. Presently she
+sighed, stirred, placed her feet on the floor as though
+preparing to rise. And he came out of his impersonal
+abstraction:</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it you want to say, Sweetness?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Another time,&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;I don&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear child, you came to me needing the intimacy
+of our comradeship&mdash;perhaps its sympathy. My
+mind was wandering&mdash;you are so lovely in the starlight.
+But you ought to know where my heart is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it open&mdash;a little?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Knock and see, Sweetness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, I came to ask you&mdash;Mr. Skeel is coming
+to-morrow&mdash;to see me&mdash;alone. Could it be contrived&mdash;without
+offending?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose it could.... Yes, of course.... Only
+it will be conspicuous. You see, Mr. Skeel is much
+sought after in certain circles&mdash;beginning to be pursued and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He asked me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear, it&#8217;s quite all right&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me tell you, please.... He <i>did</i> know my
+mother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I supposed so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He was the man. I want you to know what
+he told me.... I always wish you to know everything
+that is in my&mdash;mind&mdash;always, for ever.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She leaned forward in her chair, her pretty, bare
+feet extended. One silken sleeve of her negligée had
+fallen to the shoulder, revealing the perfect symmetry
+of her arm. But he put from his mind the ever latent
+artistic delight in her, closed his painter&#8217;s eye to her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span>
+protean possibilities, and resolutely concentrated his
+mental forces upon what she was now saying:</p>
+<p>&#8220;He turns out to be the same man my mother wrote
+to&mdash;and who wrote to her.... They were in love,
+then. He didn&#8217;t say why he went away, except that
+my mother&#8217;s family disliked him.... She lived at a
+house called Fane Court.... He spoke of my mother&#8217;s
+father as Sir Barry Fane....&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That doesn&#8217;t surprise me, Sweetness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did <i>you</i> know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing definite.&#8221; He looked at the lovely, slender-limbed
+girl there in the starry dusk. &#8220;I knew
+nothing definite,&#8221; he repeated, &#8220;but there was no mistaking
+the metal from which you had been made&mdash;or
+the mould, either. And as for Soane&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he
+smiled.</p>
+<p>She said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If my name is really Fane, there can be only one
+conclusion; some kinsman of that name must have
+married my mother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; very gravely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then who was he? My mother never mentioned
+him in her letters. What became of him? He must
+have been my father. Is he living?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you ask Mr. Skeel?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He seemed too deeply affected to answer me.
+He must have loved my mother very dearly to show
+such emotion before me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did you ask him, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;After we left the piano?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I asked him that. I had only a few more moments
+alone with him before he left. I asked him about my
+mother&mdash;to tell me how she looked&mdash;so I could think
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span>
+of her more clearly. He has a picture of her on ivory.
+He is to bring it to me and tell me more about her.
+That is why I must see him to-morrow&mdash;so I may
+ask him again about my father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear....&#8221; He sat very silent for a while,
+then rose, came over, and seated himself on the padded
+arm of Dulcie&#8217;s chair, and took both her hands into
+his:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen, Sweetness. You are what you are to me&mdash;my
+dear comrade, my faithful partner sharing our
+pretty partnership in art; and, more than these, Dulcie,
+you are my friend.... Never doubt that. Never
+forget it. Nothing can alter it&mdash;nothing you learn
+about your origin can exalt that friendship....
+Nothing lessen it. Do you understand? <i>Nothing</i> can
+<i>lessen</i> it, save only if you prove untrue to what you
+are&mdash;your real self.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She had rested her cheek against his arm while he
+was speaking. It lay there now, pressed closer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As for Murtagh Skeel,&#8221; he said, &#8220;he is a charming,
+cultivated, fascinating man. But if he attempts to
+carry out his agitator&#8217;s schemes and his revolutionary
+propaganda in this country, he is headed for most
+serious trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why does he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t ask me why men of his education and character
+do such things. They do; that&#8217;s all I know.
+Sir Roger Casement is another man not unlike Skeel.
+There are many, hot-hearted, generous, brave, irrational.
+There is no use blaming them&mdash;no justice in
+it, either. The history of British rule in Ireland is
+a matter of record.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Dulcie, he who strikes at England to-day
+strikes at civilisation, at liberty, at God! This is no
+time to settle old grievances. And to attempt to do
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span>
+it by violence, by propaganda&mdash;to attempt a reckoning
+of ancient wrongs in any way, to-day, is a crime&mdash;the
+crime of treachery against Christ&#8217;s teachings&mdash;of
+treason against Lord Christ Himself!&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a long interval:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are going to this war quite soon. Mr. Westmore
+said so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am going&mdash;with my country or without it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I finally lose patience and self-respect....
+I don&#8217;t know exactly when, but it will be pretty soon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Could I go with you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you wish to?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She pressed her cheek against his arm in silence.</p>
+<p>He said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;That has troubled me a lot, Dulcie. Of course
+you could stay here; I can arrange&mdash;I had come to a
+conclusion in regard to financial matters&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t,&#8221; she whispered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stay here&mdash;take anything from you&mdash;accept without
+service in return.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What would you do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t care&mdash;if you&mdash;leave me here alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Dulcie&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know. You said it this evening. There will come
+a time when you would not find it convenient to have
+me&mdash;around&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear, it&#8217;s only because a man and a woman in this
+world cannot continue anything of enduring intimacy
+without business as an excuse. And even then, the
+pleasant informality existing now could not be continued
+with anything except very serious disadvantage
+to you.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;You will grow tired of painting me,&#8221; she said under
+her breath.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. But your life is all before you, Dulcie. Girls
+usually marry sooner or later.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Men do too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s not what I meant&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will marry,&#8221; she whispered.</p>
+<p>Again, at her words, the same odd uneasiness began
+to possess him as though something obscure, unformulated
+as yet, must some day be cleared up by him and
+decided.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t leave me&mdash;yet,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t take you with me to France.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me enlist for service. Could you be patient
+for a few months so that I might learn something&mdash;anything!&mdash;I
+don&#8217;t care what, if only I can go with
+you? Don&#8217;t they require women to scrub and do unpleasant
+things&mdash;humble, unclean, necessary things?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You couldn&#8217;t&mdash;with your slender youth and delicate
+beauty&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;you don&#8217;t know what I could
+do to be near you! That is all I want&mdash;all I want in
+the world!&mdash;just to be somewhere not too far away. I
+couldn&#8217;t stand it, now, if you left me.... I couldn&#8217;t
+live&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But, suddenly, it was a hot-faced, passionate, sobbing
+child who was clinging desperately to his arm and
+staunching her tears against it&mdash;saying nothing more,
+merely clinging close with quivering lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen,&#8221; he said impulsively. &#8220;I&#8217;ll give you time.
+If there&#8217;s anything you can learn that will admit you
+to France, come back to town with me and learn it....
+Because I don&#8217;t want to leave you, either....
+There ought to be some way&mdash;some way&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span>
+checked himself abruptly, stared at the bowed head
+under its torrent of splendid hair&mdash;at the desperate
+white little hands holding so fast to his sleeve, at the
+slender body gathered there in the deep chair, and all
+aquiver now.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll go&mdash;together,&#8221; he said unsteadily....
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll do what I can; I promise.... You must go upstairs
+to bed, now.... Dulcie!... dear girl....&#8221;</p>
+<p>She released his arm, tried to get up from her chair
+obediently, blinded by tears and groping in the starlight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me guide you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; His voice was strained, his
+touch feverish and unsteady, and the convulsive closing
+of her fingers over his seemed to burn to his very
+bones.</p>
+<p>At the stairs she tried to speak, thanking him, asking
+pardon for her tears, her loss of self-command,
+penitent, afraid that she had lowered herself, strained
+his friendship&mdash;troubled him&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I&mdash;<i>want</i> you,&#8221; he said in an odd, indistinct,
+hesitating voice.... &#8220;Things must be cleared up&mdash;matters
+concerning us&mdash;affairs&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he muttered.</p>
+<p>She closed her eyes a moment and rested both hands
+on the banisters as though fatigued, then she looked
+down at him where he stood watching her:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you had rather go without me&mdash;if it is better
+for you&mdash;less troublesome&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve told you,&#8221; he said in a dull voice, &#8220;I want
+you. You must fit yourself to go.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are so kind to me&mdash;so wonderful&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He merely stared at her; she turned almost wearily
+to resume her ascent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She had reached the landing above. She bent over,
+looking down at him in the dusk.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Did you understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;yes, I think so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That I <i>want</i> you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is true. I want you always. I&#8217;m just beginning
+to understand that myself. Please don&#8217;t ever forget
+what I say to you now, Dulcie; I want you. I shall always
+want you. Always! As long as I live.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She leaned heavily on the newel-post above, looking
+down.</p>
+<p>He could not see that her eyes were closed, that her
+lips moved in voiceless answer. She was only a vague
+white shape there in the dusk above him&mdash;a mystery
+which seemed to have been suddenly born out of some
+poignant confusion of his own mind.</p>
+<p>He saw her turn, fade into the darkness. And he
+stood there, not moving, aware of the chaos within him,
+of shapeless questions being evolved out of this profound
+disturbance&mdash;of an inner consciousness groping
+with these questions&mdash;questions involving other questions
+and menacing him with the necessity of decision.</p>
+<p>After a while, too, he became conscious of his own
+voice sounding there in the darkness:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am very near to love.... I have been close to it....
+It would be very easy to fall in love to-night....
+But I am wondering&mdash;about to-morrow....
+And afterward.... But I have been very near&mdash;very
+near to love, to-night....&#8221;</p>
+<p>The front doorbell rang through the darkness.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span>
+<a name='XXV_STARLIGHT' id='XXV_STARLIGHT'></a>
+<h2>XXV
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />STARLIGHT</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>When Barres opened the front door he saw
+Renoux standing there in the shadow of the
+porch, silhouetted against the starlight. They
+exchanged a silent grip; Renoux stepped inside; Barres
+closed the front door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall I light up?&#8221; he asked in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. There are complications. I&#8217;ve been followed,
+I think. Take me somewhere near a window which commands
+the driveway out there. I&#8217;d like to keep my eye
+on it while we are talking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on,&#8221; said Barres, under his breath. He
+guided Renoux through the shadowy entrance hall to
+the library, moved two padded armchairs to the window
+facing the main drive, motioned Renoux to seat
+himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When did you arrive?&#8221; he asked in a cautious voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What! You got here before we did!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I followed Souchez and Alost. Do you know
+who <i>they</i> were following?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;One of your guests at dinner this evening.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Skeel!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux nodded:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. You saw them start for the train. Skeel was
+on the train. But the conference at your studio delayed
+me. So I came up by automobile last night.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;ve been here all day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux nodded, but his keen eyes were fixed on the
+drive, shining silver-grey in the starlight. And his
+gaze continually reverted to it while he continued speaking:</p>
+<p>&#8220;My friend, things are happening. Let me first tell
+you what is the situation. Over this entire hemisphere
+German spies are busy, German intrigue and propaganda
+are being accelerated, treason is spreading from
+a thousand foci of infection.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In South America matters are very serious. A
+revolution is being planned by the half million Germans
+in Brazil; the neutrality of Argentine is being
+most grossly violated and Count Luxburg, the boche
+Ambassador, is already tampering with Chile and other
+Southern Republics.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course, the Mexican trouble is due to German
+intrigue which is trying desperately to involve that Republic
+and yours and also drag in Japan.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Honolulu the German cruiser which your Government
+has interned is sending out wireless information
+while her band plays to drown the crackle of the
+instrument.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And from the Golden Gate to the Delaware capes,
+and from the Soo to the Gulf, the spies of Germany
+swarm in your great Republic, planning your destruction
+in anticipation of the war which will surely come.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres reddened in the darkness and his heart beat
+more rapidly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think it really will come?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;War with Germany? My friend, I am certain of
+it. Your Government may not be certain. It is, if
+you permit a foreigner to say so&mdash;an&mdash;unusual Administration....
+In this way, for example: it is
+cognisant of almost everything treasonable that is happening;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span>
+it maintains agents in close contact with every
+mischief-hatching German diplomat in this hemisphere;
+it even has agents in the German Embassies&mdash;agents
+unsuspected, who daily rub elbows with German Ambassadors
+themselves!</p>
+<p>&#8220;It knows what Luxburg is doing; it is informed
+every day concerning Bernstorff&#8217;s dirty activities; the
+details of the Mexican and Japanese affairs are familiar
+to Mr. Lansing; all that happens aboard the
+<i>Geier</i>, the interned German liners&mdash;all that occurs in
+German consulates, commercial offices, business houses,
+clubs, cafés, saloons, is no secret to your Government.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yet, nothing has been done, nothing is being done
+except to continue to collect data of the most monstrous
+and stupendous conspiracy that ever threatened a free
+nation! I repeat that nothing is being done; no preparation
+is being made to face the hurricane which has
+been looming for two years and more, growing ever
+blacker over your horizon. All the world can see the
+lightning playing behind those storm clouds.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And, my God!&mdash;not an umbrella! Not an order for
+overshoes and raincoats!... I am not, perhaps, in
+error when I suggest that the Administration is an&mdash;unusual
+one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres nodded slowly.</p>
+<p>Renoux said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am sorry. The reckoning will be heavy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you know. Your great politician, Mr. Roosevelt,
+knows; your great Admiral, Mahan, knew; your
+great General, Wood, knows. Also, perhaps some million
+or more sane, clear thinking American citizens
+know.&#8221; He made a hopeless gesture. &#8220;It is a pity,
+Barres, my friend.... Well&mdash;it is, of course, the affair
+of your people to decide.... We French can only
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span>
+wait.... But we have never doubted your ultimate
+decision.... Lafayette did not live in vain. Yorktown
+was not merely a battle. Your Washington
+lighted a torch for your people and for ours to hold
+aloft eternally. Even the rain of blood drenching our
+Revolution could not extinguish it. It still burned at
+Gravelotte, at Metz, at Sedan. It burned above the
+smoke and dust of the Commune. It burned at the
+Marne. It still burns, mon ami.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Alors&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He sat silent for a few moments, his
+gaze intent on the starry obscurity outdoors. Then,
+slow and pleasantly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The particular mess, the cooking of which interests
+my Government, the English Government, and
+yours, is now on the point of boiling over. It&#8217;s this
+Irish stew I speak of. Poor devils&mdash;they must be
+crazy, every one of them, to do what they are already
+beginning to do.... You remember the papers which
+you secured?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what we did last night at Grogan&#8217;s has prematurely
+dumped the fat into the fire. They know
+they&#8217;ve been robbed; they know that their plans are
+in our hands. Do you suppose that stops them? No!
+On the contrary, they are at this very moment attempting,
+as you say in New York, to beat us to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;This way: the signal for an Irish attempt on Canada
+is to be the destruction of the Welland Canal.
+You remember the German suggestion that an ore
+steamer be seized? They&#8217;re going to try it. And if
+that fails, they&#8217;re to take their power boat into the
+canal anyway and blow up a lock, even if they blow
+up themselves with it. Did you ever hear of such madness?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span>
+Mon dieu, if only we had those men under your
+flag on our western front!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know who these men are?&#8221; asked Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your dinner guest&mdash;Murtagh Skeel&mdash;leads this
+company of Death.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now! To-morrow! That&#8217;s why I&#8217;m here! That&#8217;s
+why your Secret Service men are arriving. I tell you
+the mess is on the point of boiling over. The crew is
+already on its way to take over the launch. They&#8217;re
+travelling west singly, by separate trains and routes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know who they are&mdash;these madmen?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here is the list&mdash;don&#8217;t strike a light! I can recall
+their names, I think&mdash;some of them anyway&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are any of them Germans?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not one. Your German doesn&#8217;t blow himself up
+with anything but beer. Not he! No; he lights a fuse
+and legs it! I don&#8217;t say he&#8217;s a coward. But self-immolation
+for abstract principle isn&#8217;t in him. There
+have been instances resembling it at sea&mdash;probably not
+genuine&mdash;not like that poor sergeant of ours in 1870,
+who went into the citadel at Laon and shoved a torch
+into the bin of loose powder under the magazine....
+Because the city had surrendered. And Paris was not
+many miles away.... So he blew himself up with
+citadel, magazine, all the Prussians in the neighbourhood,
+and most of the town.... Well&mdash;these Irish
+are planning something of that sort on the Welland
+Canal.... Murtagh Skeel leads them. The others I
+remember are Madigan, Cassidy, Dolan, McBride&mdash;and
+that fellow Soane!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is <i>he</i> one of them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He surely is. He went west on the same train that
+brought Skeel here. And now I&#8217;ll tell you what has
+been done and why I&#8217;m here.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_344' name='page_344'></a>344</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;We haven&#8217;t located the power-boat on the lake.
+But the Canadians are watching for it and your agents
+are following these Irishmen. When the crew assembles
+they are to be arrested and their power-boat and explosives
+seized.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I and my men have no official standing here, of
+course&mdash;would not be tolerated in any co-operation,
+<i>officially</i>. But we have a certain understanding with
+certain authorities.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see? Very well. Then, with delicacy and discretion,
+we keep in touch with Mr. Skeel.... And
+with other people.... You see?... He is abed in
+the large house of Mr. Gerhardt over yonder at Northbrook....
+Under surveillance.... He moves? We
+move&mdash;very discreetly. You see?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well, then. But I am obliged to tell you, also,
+that the hunting is not done entirely by our side. No!
+In turn, I and my men, and also your agents, are being
+hunted by German agents.... It is that which
+annoys and hampers us, because these German agents
+continually dog us and give the alarm to these Irishmen.
+You see?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who are the German agents? Do you know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well indeed. Bernstorff is the head; Von
+Papen and Boy-ed come next. Under them serve certain
+so-called &#8216;Diplomatic Agents of Class No. 1&#8217;&mdash;Adolf
+Gerhardt is one of them; his partners, Otto
+Klein and Joseph Schwartzmeyer are two others.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They, in turn, have under them diplomatic agents
+of the second class&mdash;men such as Ferez Bey, Franz
+Lehr, called <i>K17</i>. You see? Then, lower still in the
+scale, come the spies who actually investigate under
+orders; men like Dave Sendelbeck, Johnny Klein, Louis
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span>
+Hochstein, Max Freund. And, then, lowest of all in
+rank are the rank and file&mdash;the secret &#8216;shock-troops&#8217;
+who carry out desperate enterprises under some leader.
+Among the Germans these are the men who sneak about
+setting fires, lighting the fuses of bombs, scuttling ships,
+defacing Government placards, poisoning Red Cross
+bandages to be sent to the Allies&mdash;that sort. But
+among them are no battalions of Death. <i>Non pas!</i>
+And, for that, you see, they use these Irish. You understand
+now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then! I trust you absolutely, Barres. And
+so I came over to ask you&mdash;and your clever friends,
+Mademoiselle Dunois, Miss Soane, Mr. Westmore, to
+keep their eyes on this man Skeel to-morrow afternoon
+and also to-morrow evening. Because they will be
+guests at the Gerhardts&#8217;. Is it not so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, your Government&#8217;s agents will be there. They
+will also be in the neighbourhood, watching roads and
+railway stations. I have one man in service with the
+Gerhardts&mdash;their head chauffeur. If anything happens&mdash;if
+Skeel tries to slip away&mdash;if you miss him&mdash;I
+would be very grateful if you and your friends notify
+the head chauffeur, Menard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll try to do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all I want. Just get word to Menard that
+Skeel seems to be missing. That will be sufficient. Will
+you say this to your friends?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I will, Renoux. I&#8217;ll be glad to. I&#8217;ll be particularly
+happy to offer to Miss Dunois this proof of
+your confidence in her integrity.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux looked very grave.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For me,&#8221; he said, &#8220;Miss Dunois is what she pretends
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span>
+to be. I have so informed my Government at
+home and its representatives at Washington.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you heard anything yet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, a telegram in cipher from Washington late
+this afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Favourable to her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Our Ambassador is taking up immediately the
+clues Miss Dunois furnished me last night. Also, he
+has cabled at length to my home Government. At this
+hour, no doubt, d&#8217;Eblis, Bolo, probably an ex-minister
+or two, are being watched. And in this country your
+Government is now in possession of facts which must
+suggest a very close surveillance of the activities of
+Ferez Bey.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux shook his head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;He <i>was</i> in New York. But he gave us the slip. An
+eel!&#8221; he added, rising. &#8220;Oh, we shall pick up his slimy
+traces again in time. But it is mortifying.... Well,
+thank you, mon ami. I must go.&#8221; And he started toward
+the hall.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you a car anywhere?&#8221; asked Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, up the road a bit.&#8221; He glanced through the
+sidelight of the front door, carelessly. &#8220;A couple of
+men out yonder dodging about. Have you noticed
+them, Barres?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No! Where?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re out there in the shadow of your wall. I
+imagined that I&#8217;d be followed.&#8221; He smiled and opened
+the front door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait!&#8221; whispered Barres. &#8220;You are not going out
+there alone, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. There&#8217;s no danger.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t like it, Renoux. I&#8217;ll walk as far as
+your car&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t trouble! I have no personal apprehension&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All the same,&#8221; muttered the other, continuing on
+down the front steps beside his comrade.</p>
+<p>Renoux shrugged good-humouredly his disapproval
+of such precaution, but made no further protest. Nobody
+was visible anywhere on the grounds. The big
+iron gates were still locked, but the wicket was open.
+Through this they stepped out onto the macadam.</p>
+<p>A little farther along stood a touring car with two
+men in it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see?&#8221; began Renoux&mdash;when his words were cut
+by the crack of a pistol, and the red tail-light of
+the car crashed into splinters and went dark.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, by God!&#8221; remarked Renoux calmly, looking
+at the woods across the road and leisurely producing
+an automatic pistol.</p>
+<p>Then, from deeper in the thicket, two bright flames
+stabbed the darkness and the crash of the shots re-echoed
+among the trees.</p>
+<p>Both men in the touring car instantly turned loose
+their pistols; Renoux said, in a voice at once perplexed
+and amused:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go home, Barres. I don&#8217;t want people to know you
+are out here.... I&#8217;ll see you again soon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t there anything&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing. Please&mdash;you would oblige me by keeping
+clear of this if you really desire to help me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There were no more shots. Renoux stepped leisurely
+into the tonneau.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what the devil do you gentlemen make of
+this?&#8221; Barres heard him say in his cool, humorous
+voice. &#8220;It really looks as though the boches were getting
+nervous.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car started. Barres could see Renoux and another
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span>
+man sitting with pistols levelled as the car glided
+along the fringe of woods. But there were no more
+shots on either side, and, after the car had disappeared,
+Barres turned and retraced his way.</p>
+<p>Then, as he entered his own gate by the side wicket,
+and turned to lock it with his own key, an electric
+torch flashed in his face, blinding him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let him have it!&#8221; muttered somebody behind the
+dazzling light.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s not one of them!&#8221; said another voice distinctly.
+&#8220;Look out what you&#8217;re doing! Douse your
+glim!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Instantly the fierce glare faded to a cinder. Barres
+heard running feet on the macadam, the crash of shrubbery
+opposite. But he could see nobody; and presently
+the footsteps in the woods were no longer audible.</p>
+<p>There seemed to be nothing for him to do in the matter.
+He lingered by the wicket for a while, peering
+into the night, listening. He saw nothing; heard nothing
+more that night.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span>
+<a name='XXVI_BEN_EIRINN_I' id='XXVI_BEN_EIRINN_I'></a>
+<h2>XXVI
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />&#8217;BE-N EIRINN I!</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>Barres senior rose with the sun. Also with
+determination, which took the form of a note
+slipped under his wife&#8217;s door as he was leaving
+the house:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Darling</span>:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I lost last night&#8217;s fishing and I&#8217;m hanged if I lose it
+to-night! So don&#8217;t ask me to fritter away a perfectly
+good evening at the Gerhardt&#8217;s party, because the sun is
+up; I&#8217;m off to the woods; and I shall remain there until
+the last trout breaks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell the little Soane girl that I left a rod for her in
+the work-room, if she cares to join me at the second lake.
+Garry can bring her over and leave her if he doesn&#8217;t
+wish to fish. Don&#8217;t send a man over with a lot of food
+and shawls. I&#8217;ve a creel full of provisions, and I am sufficiently
+clad, and I hate to be disturbed and I am never
+grateful to people who try to be good to me. However, I
+love you very dearly.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;Your husband,</p>
+<p class='sig2'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Reginald Barres</span>.&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>At half past seven trays were sent to Mrs. Barres
+and to Lee; and at eight-thirty they were in the saddle
+and their horses fetlock deep in morning dew.</p>
+<p>Dulcie, sipping her chocolate in bed, marked their
+departure with sleepy eyes. For the emotions of the
+night before had told on her, and when a maid came to
+remove the tray she settled down among her pillows
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span>
+again, blinking unresponsively at the invitation of the
+sun, which cast over her a fairy net of gold.</p>
+<p>Thessalie, in negligée, came in later and sat down on
+the edge of her bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You sleepy little thing,&#8221; she said, &#8220;the men have
+breakfasted and are waiting for us on the tennis court.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know how to play,&#8221; said Dulcie. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+know how to do anything.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You soon will, if you get up, you sweet little lazy-bones!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think I&#8217;ll ever learn to play tennis and golf
+and to ride?&#8221; inquired Dulcie. &#8220;You know how to do
+everything so well, Thessa.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear child, it&#8217;s all locked up in you&mdash;the ability to
+do everything&mdash;be anything! The only difference between
+us is that I had the chance to try.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I can&#8217;t even stand on my head,&#8221; said Dulcie
+wistfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you ever try?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;N-no.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s easy. Do you want to see me do it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please, Thessa!&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Thessalie, calmly smiling, rose, cast herself lightly
+upon her hands, straightened her lithe figure leisurely,
+until, amid a cataract of tumbling silk and chiffon,
+her rose silk slippers pointed toward the ceiling. Then,
+always with graceful deliberation, she brought her feet
+to the floor, forming an arc with her body; held it a
+moment, and slowly rose upright, her flushed face half-buried
+in her loosened hair.</p>
+<p>Dulcie, in raptures, climbed out of bed and insisted
+on immediate instruction. Down on the tennis court,
+Garry and Westmore heard their peals of laughter
+and came across the lawn under the window to remonstrate.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_351' name='page_351'></a>351</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t you ever going to get dressed!&#8221; called up
+Westmore. &#8220;If you&#8217;re going to play doubles with
+us you&#8217;d better get busy, because it&#8217;s going to be a
+hot day!&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Thessalie went away to dress and Dulcie tiptoed
+into her bath, which the maid had already drawn.</p>
+<p>But it was an hour before they appeared on the
+lawn, cool and fresh in their white skirts and shoes, and
+found Westmore and Barres, red and drenched, hammering
+each other across the net in their second furious
+set.</p>
+<p>So Dulcie took her first lesson under Garry&#8217;s auspices;
+and she took to it naturally, her instinct being
+sound, but her technique as charmingly awkward as a
+young bird&#8217;s in its first essay at flying.</p>
+<p>To see her all in white, with sleeves tucked up,
+throat bare, and the sun brilliant on her ruddy, rippling
+hair, produced a curious impression on Barres.
+As far as the East is from the West, so far was this
+Dulcie of the tennis court separated from the wistful,
+shabby child behind the desk at Dragon Court.</p>
+<p>Could they possibly be the same&mdash;this lithe, fresh,
+laughing girl, with white feet flashing and snowy skirts
+awhirl?&mdash;and the pale, grey-eyed slip of a thing that
+had come one day to his threshold with a faltering request
+for admittance to that wonderland wherein dwelt
+only such as he?</p>
+<p>Now, those grey eyes had turned violet, tinged with
+the beauty of the open sky; the loosened hair had become
+a net entangling the very sunlight; and the frail
+body, now but one smooth, soft symmetry, seemed
+fairly lustrous with the shining soul it masked within it.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>She came over to the net, breathless, laughing, to
+shake hands with her victorious opponents.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_352' name='page_352'></a>352</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so sorry, Garry,&#8221; she said, turning penitently
+to him, &#8220;but I need such a lot of help in the world before
+I&#8217;m worth anything to anybody.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re all right as you are. You always have been
+all right,&#8221; he said in a low voice. &#8220;You never were
+worth less than you are worth now; you&#8217;ll never be
+worth more than you are worth to me at this moment.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were walking slowly across the lawn toward the
+northern veranda. She halted a moment on the grass
+and cast a questioning glance at him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t it please you to have me learn things?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You always please me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad.... I try.... But don&#8217;t you think
+you&#8217;d like me better if I were not so ignorant?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked at her absently, shook his head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;No ... I couldn&#8217;t like you better.... I couldn&#8217;t
+care more&mdash;for any girl&mdash;than I care for you....
+Did you suspect that, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s true.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They moved slowly forward across the grass&mdash;he
+distrait, his handsome head lowered, swinging his tennis-bat
+as he walked; she very still and lithe and slender,
+moving beside him with lowered eyes fixed on their
+mingled shadows on the grass.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When are you to see Mr. Skeel?&#8221; he asked abruptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This afternoon.... He asked if he might hope to
+find me alone.... I didn&#8217;t know exactly what to say.
+So I told him about the rose arbour.... He said he
+would pay his respects to your mother and sister and
+then ask their permission to see me there alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They came to the veranda; Dulcie seated herself
+on the steps and he remained standing on the grass in
+front of her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Remember,&#8221; he said quietly, &#8220;that I can never care
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_353' name='page_353'></a>353</span>
+less for you than I do at this moment.... Don&#8217;t forget
+what I say, Dulcie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked up at him, happy, wondering, even perhaps
+a little apprehensive in her uncertainty as to his
+meaning.</p>
+<p>He did not seem to care to enlighten her further. His
+mood changed, too, even as she looked at him, and she
+saw the troubled gravity fade and the old gaiety glimmering
+in his eyes:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve a mind to put you on a horse, Sweetness, and
+see what happens,&#8221; he remarked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Garry! I don&#8217;t want to tumble off before <i>you</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Before whom had you rather land on that red head
+of yours?&#8221; he inquired. &#8220;I&#8217;d be more sympathetic
+than many.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d rather have Thessa watch me break my neck.
+Do you mind? It&#8217;s horrid to be so sensitive, I suppose.
+But, Garry, I couldn&#8217;t bear to have you see me
+so shamefully awkward and demoralised.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fancy your being awkward! Well, all right&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked across the lawn, where Thessalie and Westmore
+sat together, just outside the tennis court, under
+a brilliant lawn umbrella.</p>
+<p>Oddly enough, the spectacle caused him no subtle
+pang, although their heads were pretty close together
+and their mutual absorption in whatever they were
+saying appeared evident enough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let &#8217;em chatter,&#8221; he said after an instant&#8217;s hesitation.
+&#8220;Thessa or my sister can ride with you this afternoon
+when it&#8217;s cooler. I suppose you&#8217;ll take to the
+saddle as though born there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I hope so!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure thing. All Irish girls&mdash;of your quality&mdash;take
+to it.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_354' name='page_354'></a>354</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;My&mdash;quality?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yours.... It&#8217;s merely happened so,&#8221; he added irrelevantly,
+&#8220;&mdash;but the contrary couldn&#8217;t have mattered
+... as long as you are <i>you</i>! Nothing else matters one
+way or another. You <i>are</i> you: that answers all questions,
+fulfils all requirements&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I <i>don&#8217;t</i> quite understand what you say, Garry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you, Sweetness? Don&#8217;t you understand why
+you&#8217;ve always been exactly what you appear like at
+this moment?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked at him with her lovely, uncertain smile:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve always been myself, I suppose. You are teasing
+me dreadfully!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed in a nervous, excited way, not like himself:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet you have always been yourself, Sweetness!&mdash;in
+spite of everything you&#8217;ve always been <i>yourself</i>.
+I am very slow in discovering it. But I think I realise
+it now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please,&#8221; she remonstrated, &#8220;you are laughing at me
+and I don&#8217;t know why. I think you&#8217;ve been talking
+nonsense and expecting me to pretend to understand....
+If you don&#8217;t stop laughing at me I shall retire
+to my room <ins title='Added missing quote'>and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</ins></p>
+<p>&#8220;What, Sweetness?&#8221; he demanded, still laughing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Change to a cooler gown,&#8221; she said, humorously
+vexed at her own inability to threaten or punish him
+for his gaiety at her expense.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right; I&#8217;ll change too, and we&#8217;ll meet in the
+music-room!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She considered him askance:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you be more respectful to me, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Respectful? I don&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well, then, I&#8217;m not coming back.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_355' name='page_355'></a>355</span></div>
+<p>But when he entered the music-room half an hour
+later, Dulcie was seated demurely before the piano,
+and when he came and stood behind her she dropped her
+head straight back and looked up at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I had a wonderful icy bath,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and I&#8217;m
+ready for anything. Are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Almost,&#8221; he said, looking down at her.</p>
+<p>She straightened up, gazed silently at the piano for
+a few moments; sounded a few chords. Then her
+fingers wandered uncertainly, as though groping for
+something that eluded them&mdash;something that they delicately
+sought to interpret. But apparently she did
+not discover it; and her search among the keys ended
+in a soft chord like a sigh. Only her lips could have
+spoken more plainly.</p>
+<p>At that moment Westmore and Thessalie came in
+breezily and remained to gossip a few minutes before
+bathing and changing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Play something jolly!&#8221; said Westmore. &#8220;One of
+those gay Irish things, you know, like &#8216;The Honourable
+Michael Dunn,&#8217; or &#8216;Finnigan&#8217;s Wake,&#8217; or&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know any,&#8221; said Dulcie, smiling. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+a song called &#8216;Asthore.&#8217; My mother wrote it&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can you sing it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl ran her fingers over the keys musingly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll remember it presently. I know one or two
+old songs like &#8216;Irishmen All.&#8217; Do you know that song?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And she sang it in her gay, unembarrassed way:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;Warm is our love for the island that bore us,</p>
+<p>Ready are we as our fathers before us,</p>
+<p class='indent2'>Genial and gallant men,</p>
+<p class='indent2'>Fearless and valiant men,</p>
+<p>Faithful to Erin we answer her call.</p>
+<p class='indent2'>Ulster men, Munster men,</p>
+<p class='indent2'>Connaught men, Leinster men,</p>
+<p>Irishmen all we answer her call!&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_356' name='page_356'></a>356</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; cried Westmore. &#8220;Try it again, Dulcie!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you&#8217;ll like this better,&#8221; she said:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent2'>&#8220;Our Irish girls are beautiful,</p>
+<p>As all the world will own;</p>
+<p class='indent2'>An Irish smile in Irish eyes</p>
+<p>Would melt a heart of stone;</p>
+<p class='indent2'>But all their smiles and all their wiles</p>
+<p>Will quickly turn to sneers</p>
+<p class='indent2'>If you fail to fight for Erin</p>
+<p>In the Irish Volunteers!&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>&#8220;Hurrah!&#8221; cried Westmore, beating time and picking
+up the chorus of the &#8220;Irish Volunteers,&#8221; which Dulcie
+played to a thunderous finish amid frantic applause.</p>
+<p>She sang for them &#8220;The West&#8217;s Awake!&#8221;, &#8220;The
+Risin&#8217; of the Moon,&#8221; &#8220;Clare&#8217;s Dragoons,&#8221; and &#8220;Paddy
+Get Up!&#8221; And after Westmore had exercised his
+lungs sufficiently in every chorus, he and Thessalie went
+off to their respective quarters, leaving Barres leaning
+on the piano beside Dulcie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your people are a splendid lot&mdash;given half a
+chance,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My people?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. After all, Sweetness, you&#8217;re Irish, you
+know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what I am,&#8221; she murmured half to
+herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whoever you are it&#8217;s the same to me, Dulcie.&#8221;
+... He took a few short, nervous turns across the
+room; walked slowly back to her: &#8220;Has it come back
+to you yet&mdash;that song of your mother&#8217;s you were trying
+to remember?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_357' name='page_357'></a>357</span></div>
+<p>Even while he was speaking the song came back to
+her memory&mdash;her mother&#8217;s song called &#8220;Asthore&#8221;&mdash;startling
+her with its poignant significance to herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you recollect it?&#8221; he asked again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes ... I can&#8217;t sing it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t wish to sing &#8216;Asthore&#8217;&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She bent her
+head and gazed at the keyboard, the painful colour
+dyeing her neck and cheeks.</p>
+<p>When at length she looked up at him out of lovely,
+distressed eyes, something in his face&mdash;something&mdash;some
+new expression which she dared not interpret&mdash;set
+her heart flying. And, scarcely knowing what she
+was saying in her swift and exquisite confusion:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The words of my mother&#8217;s song would mean
+nothing to you, Garry,&#8221; she faltered. &#8220;You could not
+understand them&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;B-because you could not be in sympathy with them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you know? Try!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please, dear!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The smile edging her lips glimmered in her eyes now&mdash;a
+reckless little glint of humour, almost defiant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you insist that I sing &#8216;Asthore&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He seemed conscious of a latent excitement in her to
+which something within himself was already responsive.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s about a lover,&#8221; she said, &#8220;&mdash;one of the old-fashioned,
+head-long, hot-headed sort&mdash;Irish, of course!&mdash;you&#8217;d
+not understand&mdash;such things&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Her
+tongue and colour were running random riot; her
+words outstripped her thoughts and tripped up her
+tongue, scaring her a little. She drummed on the keys
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_358' name='page_358'></a>358</span>
+a rollicking trill or two, hesitated, stole a swift, uncertain
+glance at him.</p>
+<p>A delicate intoxication enveloped her, stimulating,
+frightening her a little, yet hurrying her into speech
+again:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll sing it for you, Garry asthore! And if I were
+a lad I&#8217;d be singing my own gay credo!&mdash;if I were the
+lad&mdash;and you but a lass, asthore!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then, though her gray eyes winced and her flying
+colour betrayed her trepidation, she looked straight at
+him, laughingly, and her clear, childish voice continued
+the little prelude to &#8220;Asthore&#8221;:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>I</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;I long for her, who e&#8217;er she be&mdash;</p>
+<p>The lass that Fate decrees for me;</p>
+<p>Or dark or white and fair to see,</p>
+<p>My heart is hers <i>&#8217;be n-Eirinn i</i>!</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>I care not, I,</p>
+<p>Who ever she be,</p>
+<p>I could not love her more!</p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirin i&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!</i><a name='FNanchor_0001' id='FNanchor_0001'></a><a href='#Footnote_0001' class='fnanchor'>[1]</a></p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>II</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;I know her tresses unconfined,</p>
+<p>In wanton ringlets woo the wind&mdash;</p>
+<p>Or rags or silk her bosom bind</p>
+<p>It&#8217;s one to me; my eyes are blind!</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>I care not, I,</p>
+<p>Who ever she be,</p>
+<p>Or poor, or rich galore!</p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!</i></p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_359' name='page_359'></a>359</span></p>
+<p class='indent4'>III</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;At noon, some day, I&#8217;ll climb a hill,</p>
+<p>And find her there and kiss my fill;</p>
+<p>And if she won&#8217;t, I think she will,</p>
+<p>For every Jack must have his Jill!</p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>I care not, I,</p>
+<p>Who ever she be,</p>
+<p>The lass that I adore!</p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i&mdash;</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!</i>&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_0001' id='Footnote_0001'></a><a href='#FNanchor_0001'><span class='label'>[1]</span></a>
+<p>The refrain, pronounced <i>Bay-nayring-ee</i>, is common to a number
+of Irish love-songs written during the last century. It should
+be translated: &#8220;Whoever she be.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In writing this song, it is evident that Eileen Fane was inspired
+by Blind William of Tipperary; and that she was beholden
+to Carroll O&#8217;Daly for her &#8220;Eileen, my Treasure,&#8221; although not
+to Robin Adair of County Wicklow.</p>
+<p class='sig1'><span class='smcap'>Author.</span></p>
+</div>
+<p>Dulcie&#8217;s voice and her flushed smile, too, faded, died
+out. She looked down at the keyboard, where her
+white hands rested idly; she bent lower&mdash;a little lower;
+laid her arms on the music-rest, her face on her crossed
+arms. And, slowly, the tears fell without a tremor,
+without a sound.</p>
+<p>He had leaned over her shoulders; his bowed head was
+close to hers&mdash;so close that he became aware of the
+hot, tearful fragrance of her breath; but there was
+not a sound from her, not a stir.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Sweetness?&#8221; he whispered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;don&#8217;t know.... I didn&#8217;t m-mean to&mdash;cry....
+And I don&#8217;t know why I should.... I&#8217;m very
+h-happy&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She withdrew one arm and stretched it
+out, blindly, seeking him; and he took her hand and
+held it close to his lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why are you so distressed, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_360' name='page_360'></a>360</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not. I&#8217;m happy.... You know I am....
+My heart was very full; that is all.... I don&#8217;t seem
+to know how to express myself sometimes.... Perhaps
+it&#8217;s because I don&#8217;t quite dare.... So something
+gives way.... And this happens&mdash;tears. Don&#8217;t mind
+them, please.... If I could reach my handkerchief&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+She drew the tiny square of sheer stuff
+from her bosom and rested her closed eyes on it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s silly, isn&#8217;t it, Garry?... W-when a girl is
+so heavenly contented.... Is anybody coming?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Westmore and Thessa!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She whisked her tears away and sat up swiftly. But
+Thessa merely called to them that she and Westmore
+were off for a walk, and passed on through the hall
+and out through the porch.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Garry,&#8221; she murmured, looking away from him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I go to my room and fix my hair? Because
+Mr. Skeel will be here. Do you mind if I leave you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course not, you charming child!&#8221; Then, as he
+looked down at her hand, which he still retained, his
+expression altered; he inclosed the slender fingers, bent
+slowly and touched the fragrant palm with his lips.</p>
+<p>They were both on their feet the next second; she
+passing him with a pale, breathless little smile, and
+swiftly crossing the hall; he dumb, confused by the sudden
+tumult within him, standing there with one hand
+holding to the piano as though for support, and looking
+after the slim, receding figure till it disappeared beyond
+the library door.</p>
+<p>His mother and sister returned from their morning
+ride, lingered to chat with him, then went away to dress
+for luncheon. Murtagh Skeel had not yet arrived.</p>
+<p>Westmore and Thessalie returned from their walk in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_361' name='page_361'></a>361</span>
+the woods by the second lake, reporting a distant view
+of Barres senior, fishing madly from a canoe.</p>
+<p>Dulcie came down and joined them in the library.
+Later Mrs. Barres and Lee appeared, and luncheon was
+announced.</p>
+<p>Murtagh Skeel had not come to Foreland Farms, and
+there was no word from him.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Barres spoke of his absence during luncheon,
+for Garry had told her he was coming to talk to Dulcie
+about her mother, whom he had known very well in
+Ireland.</p>
+<p>Luncheon ended, and the cool north veranda became
+the popular rendezvous for the afternoon, and later
+for tea. People from Northbrook drove, rode, or
+motored up for a cheering cup, and a word or two of
+gossip. But Skeel did not come.</p>
+<p>By half-past five the north veranda was thronged
+with a gaily chattering and very numerous throng from
+neighbouring estates. The lively gossip was of war,
+of the coming elections, of German activities, of the
+Gerhardts&#8217; promised moonlight spectacle and dance, of
+Murtagh Skeel and the romantic interest he had
+aroused among Northbrook folk.</p>
+<p>So many people were arriving or leaving and such a
+delightful and general informality reigned that Dulcie,
+momentarily disengaged from a vapid but persistent
+dialogue with a chuckle-headed but persistent youth,
+ventured to slip into the house, and through it to the
+garden in the faint hope that perhaps Murtagh Skeel
+might have avoided the tea-crush and had gone directly
+there.</p>
+<p>But the rose arbour was empty; only the bubble of
+the little wall fountain and a robin&#8217;s evening melody
+broke the scented stillness of the late afternoon.</p>
+<p>Her mind was full of Murtagh Skeel, her heart of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_362' name='page_362'></a>362</span>
+Garry Barres, as she stood there in that blossoming
+solitude, listening to the robin and the fountain, while
+her eyes wandered across flower-bed, pool, and clipped
+greensward, and beyond the garden wall to the hill
+where three pines stood silver-green against the sky.</p>
+<p>Little by little the thought of Murtagh Skeel faded
+from her mind; fuller and fuller grew her heart with
+confused emotions new to her&mdash;emotions too perplexing,
+too deep, too powerful, perhaps, for her to understand&mdash;or
+to know how to resist or to endure. For
+the first vague sweetness of her thoughts had grown
+keen to the verge of pain&mdash;an exquisite spiritual tension
+which hurt her, bewildered her with the deep emotions
+it stirred.</p>
+<p>To love, had been a phrase to her; a lover, a name.
+For beyond that childish, passionate adoration which
+Barres had evoked in her, and which to her meant
+friendship, nothing more subtly mature, more vital, had
+threatened her unawakened adolescence with any clearer
+comprehension of him or any deeper apprehension of
+herself.</p>
+<p>And even now it was not knowledge that pierced her,
+lighting little confusing flashes in her mind and heart.
+For her heart was still a child&#8217;s heart; and her mind,
+stimulated and rapidly developing under the warm and
+magic kindness of this man who had become her only
+friend, had not thought of him in any other way....
+Until to-day.</p>
+<p>What had happened in her mind, in her heart, she
+had not analysed&mdash;probably was afraid to, there at the
+piano in the music-room. And later, in her bedroom,
+when she had summoned up innocent courage sufficient
+for self-analysis, she didn&#8217;t know how to question herself&mdash;did
+not realise exactly what had happened to her,
+and never even thought of including him in the enchanted
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_363' name='page_363'></a>363</span>
+cataclysm which had befallen her mind and
+heart and soul.</p>
+<p>Thessalie and Westmore appeared on the lawn by
+the pool. Behind the woods the sky was tinted with
+pale orange.</p>
+<p>It may have been the psychic quality of the Celt in
+Dulcie&mdash;a pale glimmer of clairvoyance&mdash;some momentary
+and vague premonition wirelessed through the evening
+stillness which set her sensitive body vibrating;
+for she turned abruptly and gazed northward across
+the woods and hills&mdash;remained motionless, her grey
+eyes fixed on the far horizon, all silvery with the hidden
+glimmer of unlighted stars.</p>
+<p>Then she slowly said aloud to herself:</p>
+<p>&#8220;He will not come. He will never come again&mdash;this
+man who loved my mother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres approached across the grass, looking for her.
+She went forward through the arbour to meet him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hasn&#8217;t he come?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He is not coming, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why? Have you heard anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She shook her head:</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. But he isn&#8217;t coming.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Probably he&#8217;ll explain this evening at the Gerhardts&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall never see him again,&#8221; she said absently.</p>
+<p>He turned and gave her a searching look. Her gaze
+was remote, her face a little pale.</p>
+<p>They walked back to the house together in silence.</p>
+<p>A servant met them in the hall with a note on a tray.
+It was for Barres; Dulcie passed on with a pale little
+smile of dismissal; Barres opened the note:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;The pot has boiled over, mon ami. Something has
+scared Skeel. He gave us the slip very cleverly, leaving
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_364' name='page_364'></a>364</span>
+Gerhardt&#8217;s house before sunrise and motoring north at
+crazy speed. Where he will strike the railway I have no
+means of knowing. Your Government&#8217;s people are trying
+to cover Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. On the Canada side
+the authorities have been notified and are alert I hope.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gerhardt&#8217;s country house is a nest of mischief hatchers.
+One in particular is under surveillance and will be arrested.
+His name is Tauscher.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because, mon ami, it has just been discovered that
+there are <i>two</i> plots to blow up the Welland Canal! One is
+Skeel&#8217;s. The other is Tauscher&#8217;s. It is a purely German
+plot. They don&#8217;t intend to blow themselves up these Huns.
+Oh no! They expect to get away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Evidently Bernstorff puts no faith in Skeel&#8217;s mad plan.
+So, in case it doesn&#8217;t pan out, here is Tauscher with another
+plan, made in Germany, and very, very thorough.
+Isn&#8217;t it characteristic? Here is the report I received this
+morning:</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Captain Franz von Papen, Military Attaché on the
+ambassadorial staff of Count von Bernstorff, and Captain
+Hans Tauscher, who, besides being the Krupp agent in
+America, is also, by appointment of the German War
+Office, von Papen&#8217;s chief military assistant in the United
+States, have plotted the destruction of the Welland Canal
+in Canada.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Captain Hans Tauscher will be arrested and indicted
+for violation of Section 13 of the United States Criminal
+Code, for setting on foot a military enterprise against
+Canada during the neutrality of the United States.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Tauscher is a German reserve officer and is subject
+to the orders of Captain Franz von Papen, Military Attaché
+of Count von Bernstorff. His indictment will be
+brought about by reason of an attempt to blow up parts
+of the Welland Canal, the waterway connecting Lakes
+Erie and Ontario. A small party of Germans, under command
+of one von der Goltz, have started from New York
+for the purpose of committing this act of sabotage, and,
+incidentally, of assassination of all men, women and children
+who might be involved in the explosion at the point
+to be selected by the plotters.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Tauscher bought and furnished to this crowd of assassins
+the dynamite which was to be used for the purpose.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_365' name='page_365'></a>365</span>
+The fact that Tauscher had bought the dynamite has become
+known to the United States authorities and he will
+be called upon to make an explanation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Captain Tauscher is said to be an agreeable companion,
+but he had the ordinary predilection of a German
+officer for assassinating women and children.&#8217;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, then, mon ami, this is the report. I expect that
+United States Secret Service men will arrest Tauscher to-night.
+Perhaps Gerhardt, also, will be arrested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;At any rate, at the dance to-night you need not look
+for Skeel. But may I suggest that you and Mr. Westmore
+keep your eyes on Mademoiselle Dunois. Because,
+at the railway station to-day, the German agents, Franz
+Lehr and Max Freund, were recognised by my men, disguised
+as liveried chauffeurs, but in whose service we
+have not yet been able to discover.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Therefore, it might be well for you and Mr. Westmore
+to remain near Mademoiselle Dunois during the evening.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Au revoir! I shall see you at the dance.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Renoux.</span>&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_366' name='page_366'></a>366</span>
+<a name='XXVII_THE_MOONLIT_WAY' id='XXVII_THE_MOONLIT_WAY'></a>
+<h2>XXVII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />THE MOONLIT WAY</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>Barres whistled and sang alternately as he tied
+his evening tie before his looking glass.</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent4'>&#8220;<i>And I care not, I,</i></p>
+<p><i>Who ever she be</i></p>
+<p class='indent2'><i>I could not love her more!</i>&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>he chanted gaily, examining the effect and buttoning
+his white waistcoat.</p>
+<p>Westmore, loitering near and waiting for him, referred
+again, indignantly, to Renoux&#8217;s report concerning
+the presence of Freund and Lehr at the Northbrook
+railway station.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I catch them hanging around Thessa,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll certainly beat them up, Garry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Deal with anything of that sort directly; that&#8217;s always
+the best way. No use arguing with a Hun. When
+he misbehaves, beat him up. It&#8217;s the only thing he understands.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s all right for us to do it now, as long as
+the French Government knows where Thessa is,&#8221; remarked
+Barres, drawing a white clove-carnation
+through his buttonhole. &#8220;But what do you think of
+that dirty swine, Tauscher, planning wholesale murder
+like that? Isn&#8217;t it the fine flower of Prussianism?
+There&#8217;s the real and porcine boche for you, sombre,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_367' name='page_367'></a>367</span>
+savage, stupidly ferocious, swinishly persistent, but
+never quite cunning enough, never sufficiently subtle
+in planning his filthy and murderous holocausts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore nodded:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite right. The <i>Lusitania</i> and Belgium cost the
+Hun the respect of civilisation, and are driving the
+civilised world into a common understanding. We&#8217;ll go
+in before long; don&#8217;t worry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They descended the stairs together just as dinner
+was announced.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Barres said laughingly to her son:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your father is still fishing, I suppose, so in spite of
+his admonition to me by letter this morning, I sent over
+one of the men with some thermos bottles and a very
+nice supper. He grumbles, but he always likes it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder what Mr. Barres will think of me,&#8221; ventured
+Dulcie. &#8220;He left such a pretty little rod for
+me. Thessa and I have been examining it. I&#8217;d like
+to go, only&mdash;&#8221; she added with a wistful smile, &#8220;I have
+never been to a real party.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course you&#8217;re going to the Gerhardts&#8217;,&#8221; insisted
+Lee, laughing. &#8220;Dad is absurd about his fishing. I
+don&#8217;t believe any girl ever lived who&#8217;d prefer fishing
+on that foggy lake at night to dancing at such a party
+as you are going to to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t you going?&#8221; asked Thessalie, but Lee shook
+her head, still smiling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have two young setters down with distemper,
+and mother and I always sit up with our dogs under
+such circumstances.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Personal devotion of this sort was new to Thessalie.
+Mrs. Barres and Lee told her all about the dreaded
+contagion and how very dreadful an epidemic might
+be in a kennel of such finely bred dogs as was the well-known
+Foreland Kennels.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_368' name='page_368'></a>368</span></div>
+<p>Dog talk absorbed everybody during dinner. Mrs.
+Barres and Lee were intensely interested in Thessalie&#8217;s
+description of the Grand Duke Cyril&#8217;s Russian wolfhounds,
+with which she had coursed and hunted as a
+child.</p>
+<p>Once she spoke, also, of those strange, pathetic,
+melancholy Ishmaelites, pitiable outcasts of their race&mdash;the
+pariah dogs of Constantinople. For, somehow,
+while dressing that evening, the distant complaint of a
+tethered beagle had made her think of Stamboul. And
+she remembered that night so long ago on the moonlit
+deck of the <i>Mirage</i>, where she had stood with Ferez
+Bey while, from the unseen, monstrous city close at
+hand, arose the endless wailing of homeless dogs.</p>
+<p>How strange it was, too, to think that the owner of
+the <i>Mirage</i> should this night be her host here in the
+Western World, yet remain unconscious that he had
+ever before entertained her.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Before coffee had been served in the entrance hall,
+the kennel master sent in word that one of the pups,
+a promising Blue Belton, had turned very sick indeed,
+and would Mrs. Barres come to the kennels as soon as
+convenient.</p>
+<p>It was enough for Mrs. Barres and for Lee; they
+both excused themselves without further ceremony and
+went away together to the kennels, apparently quite
+oblivious of their delicate dinner gowns and slippers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve seen my mother ruin many a gown on such errands,&#8221;
+remarked Garry, smiling. &#8220;No use offering
+yourself as substitute; my mother would as soon abandon
+her own sick baby to strangers as turn over an
+ailing pup to anybody except Lee and herself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think that is very splendid,&#8221; murmured Dulcie,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_369' name='page_369'></a>369</span>
+relinquishing her coffee cup to Garry and suffering
+a maid to invest her with a scarf and light silk wrap.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My mother <i>is</i> splendid,&#8221; said Garry in a low voice.
+&#8220;You will see her prove it some day, I hope.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl turned her lovely head, curiously, not understanding.
+Garry laughed, but his voice was not
+quite steady when he said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;But it all depends on you, Dulcie, how splendid
+my mother may prove herself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On <i>me</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On your&mdash;kindness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My&mdash;<i>kindness</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie came up in her pretty carnation-rose cloak,
+esquired by the enraptured Westmore, expressing admiration
+for the clothing adorning the very obvious
+object of his devotion:</p>
+<p>&#8220;All girls can&#8217;t wear a thing like that cloak,&#8221; he was
+explaining proudly; &#8220;now it would look like the devil
+on you, Dulcie, with your coppery hair and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What exquisite tact!&#8221; shrugged Thessalie, already
+a trifle restive under his constant attendance and unremitting
+admiration. &#8220;Can&#8217;t you, out of your richly
+redundant vocabulary, find something civil to say to
+Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Dulcie, still preoccupied with what Barres had
+said, merely gave her an absent-minded smile and walked
+slowly out beside her to the porch, where the headlights
+of a touring car threw two broad beams of gold
+across the lawn.</p>
+<p>It was a swift, short run through the valley northward
+among the hills, and very soon the yellow lights
+of Northbrook summer homes dotted the darkness
+ahead, and cars were speeding in from every direction&mdash;from
+Ilderness, Wythem, East and South Gorloch&mdash;carrying
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_370' name='page_370'></a>370</span>
+guests for the Gerhardts&#8217; moonlight spectacle
+and dance.</p>
+<p>Apropos of the promised spectacle, Barres observed
+to Dulcie that there happened to be no moon, and consequently
+no moonlight, but the girl, now delightfully
+excited by glimpses of Hohenlinden festooned with
+electricity, gaily reproached him for being literal.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If one is happy,&#8221; she said, &#8220;a word is enough to
+satisfy one&#8217;s imagination. If they call it a moonlight
+spectacle, I shall certainly see moonlight whether it&#8217;s
+there or not!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They may call it heaven, too, if they like,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;and I&#8217;ll believe it&mdash;if you are there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that she blushed furiously:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Garry! You don&#8217;t mean it, and it&#8217;s silly to say
+it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean it all right,&#8221; he muttered, as the car swung
+in through the great ornamental gates of Hohenlinden.
+&#8220;The trouble is that I mean so much&mdash;and <i>you</i> mean
+so much to me&mdash;that I don&#8217;t know how to express it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl, her face charmingly aglow, looked straight
+in front of her out of enchanted eyes, but her heart&#8217;s
+soft violence in her breast left her breathless and mute;
+and when the car stopped she scarcely dared rest her
+hand on the arm which Barres presented to guide her
+in her descent to earth.</p>
+<p>It may have been partly the magnificence of Hohenlinden
+that so thrillingly overwhelmed her as she
+seated herself with Garry on the marble terrace of an
+amphitheatre among brilliant throngs already gathered
+to witness the eagerly discussed spectacle.</p>
+<p>And it really was a bewilderingly beautiful scene,
+there under the summer stars, where a thousand rosy
+lanterns hung tinting the still waters of the little stream
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_371' name='page_371'></a>371</span>
+that wound through the clipped greensward which
+was the stage.</p>
+<p>The foliage of a young woodland walled in this vernal
+scene; the auditorium was a semi-circle of amber marble&mdash;rows
+of low benches, tier on tier, rising to a level
+with the lawn above.</p>
+<p>The lantern light glowed on pretty shoulders and
+bare arms, on laces and silks and splendid jewels, and
+stained the sombre black of the men with vague warm
+hues of rose.</p>
+<p>Westmore, leaning over to address Barres, said with
+an amused air:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know, Garry, it&#8217;s Corot Mandel who is putting
+on this thing for the Gerhardts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly I know it,&#8221; nodded Barres. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t he
+try to get Thessa for it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie, whose colour was high and whose dark
+eyes, roaming, had grown very brilliant, suddenly held
+out her hand to one of two men who, traversing the inclined
+aisle beside her, halted to salute her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your name was on our lips,&#8221; she said gaily. &#8220;How
+do you do, Mr. Mandel! How do you do, Mr. Trenor!
+Are you going to amaze us with a miracle in this
+enchanting place?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The two men paid their respects to her, and, with
+unfeigned astonishment and admiration, to Dulcie,
+whom they recognised only when Thessalie named her
+with delighted malice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I say, Miss Soane,&#8221; began Mandel, leaning on
+the back of the marble seat, &#8220;you and Miss Dunois
+might have helped me a lot if I&#8217;d known you were
+to be in this neighbourhood.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Esmé Trenor bent over Barres, dropping his voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;We had to use a couple of Broadway hacks&mdash;you&#8217;ll
+recognise &#8217;em through their paint&mdash;you understand?&mdash;the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_372' name='page_372'></a>372</span>
+two that New York screams for. It&#8217;s too bad.
+Corot wanted something unfamiliarly beautiful and
+young and fresh. But these Northbrook amateurs are
+incredibly amateurish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie was chattering away with Corot Mandel
+and Westmore; Esmé Trenor gazed upon Dulcie in
+wonder not unmixed with chagrin:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve never forgiven me, Dulcie, have you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For what?&#8221; she inquired indifferently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For not discovering you when I should have.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She smiled, but the polite effort and her detachment
+of all interest in him were painfully visible to Esmé.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry you still remember me so unkindly,&#8221; he
+murmured.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I never do remember you at all,&#8221; she explained
+so candidly that Barres was obliged to avert his
+amused face, and Esmé Trenor reddened to the roots
+of his elaborate hair. Mandel, with a wry grin, linked
+his arm in Trenor&#8217;s and drew him away toward the
+flight of steps which was the stage entrance to the
+dressing rooms below.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good-bye!&#8221; he said, waving his hat. &#8220;Hope you&#8217;ll
+like my moonlight frolic!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s your bally moon!&#8221; demanded Westmore.</p>
+<p>As he spoke, an unseen orchestra began to play &#8220;<i>Au
+Claire de la Lune</i>,&#8221; and, behind the woods, silhouetting
+every trunk and branch and twig, the glittering edge
+of a huge, silvery moon appeared.</p>
+<p>Slowly it rose, flashing a broad path of light across
+the lawn, reflected in the still little river. And when it
+was in the position properly arranged for it, some local
+Joshua&mdash;probably Corot Mandel&mdash;arrested its further
+motion, and it hung there, flooding the stage with a
+witching lustre.</p>
+<p>All at once the stage swarmed with supple, glimmering
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_373' name='page_373'></a>373</span>
+shapes: Oberon and Titania came flitting down
+through the trees; Puck, scintillating like a dragon-fly,
+dropped on the sward, seemingly out of nowhere.</p>
+<p>It was a wonderfully beautiful ballet, with an unseen
+chorus singing from within the woods like a thousand
+seraphim.</p>
+<p>As for the play itself, which began with the calm
+and silvered river suddenly swarming alive with water-nymphs,
+it had to do, spasmodically, with the love of
+the fairy crown-prince for the very attractive water-nymph,
+Ythali. This nimble lady, otherwise, was
+fiercely wooed by the King of the Mud-turtles, a most
+horrid and sprawling shape, but a clever foil&mdash;with
+his army of river-rats, minks and crabs&mdash;to the
+nymphs and wood fairies.</p>
+<p>Also, the music was refreshingly charming, the singing
+excellent, and the story interesting enough to keep
+the audience amused until the end.</p>
+<p>There was, of course, much moonlight dancing, much
+frolicking in the water, few clothes on the Broadway
+principals, fewer on the chorus, and apparently no
+scruples about discarding even these.</p>
+<p>But the whole spectacle was so unreal, so spectral,
+that its shadowy beauty robbed it of offence.</p>
+<p>That sort of thing had made Corot Mandel famous.
+He calculated to the width of a moonbeam just how
+far he could go. And he never went a hair&#8217;s breadth
+farther.</p>
+<p>Thessalie looked on with flushed cheeks and parted
+lips, absorbed in it all with the savant eyes of a professional.
+She also had once coolly decided how far
+her beauty and talent and adolescent effrontery could
+carry her gay disdain of man. And she had flouted him
+with indifferent eyes and dainty nose uplifted&mdash;mocked
+him and his conventions, with a few roubles in her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_374' name='page_374'></a>374</span>
+dressing-room&mdash;slapped the collective face of his sex
+with her insolent loveliness, and careless smile.</p>
+<p>Perhaps, as she sat there watching the fairy scene,
+she remembered her ostrich and the German Embassy,
+and the aged Von-der-Goltz Pasha, all over jewels and
+gold, peeping at her through thick spectacles under his
+red fez.</p>
+<p>Perhaps she thought of Ferez, too, and maybe it
+was thought of him that caused her smooth young
+shoulders the slightest of shivers, as though a harsh
+breeze had chilled her skin.</p>
+<p>As for Dulcie, she was in the seventh heaven, thrilled
+with the dreamy beauty of it all and the exquisite phantoms
+floating on the greensward under her enraptured
+eyes.</p>
+<p>No other thought possessed her save sheer delight in
+this revelation of pure enchantment.</p>
+<p>So intent, so still she became, leaning a little forward
+in her place, that Barres found her far more interesting
+and wonderful to watch than Mandel&#8217;s cunningly
+contrived illusions in the artificial moonlight below.</p>
+<p>And now Titania&#8217;s trumpets sounded from the woods,
+warning all of the impending dawn. Suddenly the
+magic fairy moon vanished like the flame of a blown-out
+candle; a faint, rosy light grew through the trees, revealing
+an empty stage and a river on which floated
+a single swan.</p>
+<p>Then, from somewhere, a distant cock-crow rang
+through the dawn. The play was ended.</p>
+<p>Two splendid orchestras were alternating on the vast
+marble terraces of Hohenlinden, where hundreds of
+dancers moved under the white radiance of a huge
+silvery moon overhead&mdash;another contrivance of
+Mandel&#8217;s&mdash;for the splendid sphere aglow with white
+fire had somehow been suspended above the linden trees
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_375' name='page_375'></a>375</span>
+so that no poles and no wires were visible against the
+starry sky.</p>
+<p>And in its milky flood of light the dancers moved
+amid a wilderness of flowers or thronged the supper-rooms
+within, where Teutonic architectural and decorative
+magnificence reigned in one vast, incredible, indigestible
+gastronomic apotheosis of German kultur.</p>
+<p>Barres, for the moment, dancing with Thessalie,
+pressed her fingers with mischievous tenderness and
+whispered:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The moonlit way once more with you, Thessa! Do
+you remember our first dance?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can I ever thank God enough for that night&#8217;s
+folly!&#8221; she said, with such sudden emotion that his
+smile altered as he looked into her dark eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yet that dance by moonlight exiled you,&#8221; he said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you realise what it saved me from, too? And
+what it has given me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He wondered whether she included Westmore in the
+gift. The music ceased at that moment, and, though
+the other orchestra began, they strolled along the
+flowering balustrade of the terrace together until they
+encountered Dulcie and Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you spoken to your hostess?&#8221; inquired Westmore.
+&#8220;She&#8217;s over yonder on a dais, enthroned like
+Germania or a Metropolitan Opera Valkyrie. Dulcie
+and I have paid our homage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>So Barres and Thessalie went away to comply with
+the required formality; and, when they returned from
+the rite, they found Esmé Trenor and Corot Mandel
+cornering Dulcie under a flowering orange tree while
+Westmore, beside her, chatted with a most engaging
+woman who proved, later, to be a practising physician.</p>
+<p>Esmé was saying languidly, that anybody could fly
+into a temper and kick his neighbours, but that indifference
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_376' name='page_376'></a>376</span>
+to physical violence was a condition of mind
+attained only by the spiritual intellect of the psychic
+adept.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Passivism,&#8221; he added with a wave of his lank
+fingers, &#8220;is the first plane to be attained on the journey
+toward Nirvana. Therefore, I am a pacifist and this
+silly war does not interest me in the slightest.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The very engaging woman, who had been chatting
+with Westmore, looked around at Esmé Trenor, evidently
+much amused.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I imagined that you were a pacifist,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I
+fancy, Mr. Mandel, also, is one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, I am, madam!&#8221; said Corot Mandel. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+plenty to do in life without strutting around and
+bawling for blood at the top of my lungs!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank heaven,&#8221; added Esmé, &#8220;the President has
+kept us out of war. This business of butchering others
+never appealed to me&mdash;except for the slightly unpleasant
+sensations which I experience when I read the details.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh. Then unpleasant sensations so appeal to
+you?&#8221; inquired Westmore, very red.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, they <i>are</i> sensations, you know,&#8221; drawled
+Esmé. &#8220;And, for a man who experiences few sensations
+of any sort, even unpleasant ones are pleasurable.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mandel yawned and said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The war is an outrageous bore. All wars are stupid
+to a man of temperament. Therefore, I&#8217;m a pacifist.
+And I had rather live under Prussian domination
+than rush about the country with a gun and sixty
+pounds of luggage on my back!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked heavily at Dulcie, who had slipped out
+of the corner on the terrace, where he and Esmé had
+penned her.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_377' name='page_377'></a>377</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;There are other things to do more interesting than
+jabbing bayonets into Germans,&#8221; he remarked. &#8220;Did
+you say you hadn&#8217;t any dance to spare us, Miss Soane?
+Nor you either, Miss Dunois? Oh, well.&#8221; He cast a
+disgusted glance at Barres, squinted at Westmore
+through his greasy monocle in hostile silence; then,
+taking Esmé&#8217;s arm, made them all a too profound
+obeisance and sauntered away along the terrace.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a pair of beasts!&#8221; said Westmore. &#8220;They
+make me actually ill!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres shrugged and turned to the very engaging
+lady beside him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you think of that breed of human, doctor?&#8221;
+he inquired.</p>
+<p>She smiled at Barres and said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Several of my own patients who are suffering from
+the same form of psycho-neurotic trouble are also
+peace-at-any-price pacifists. They do not come to me
+to be cured of their pacifism. On the contrary, they
+cherish it most tenderly. In examining them for other
+troubles I happened upon what appeared to me a very
+close relation between the peculiar attitude of the
+peace-at-any-price pacifist and a certain type of unconscious
+pervert.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That passivism is perversion does not surprise me,&#8221;
+remarked Barres.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; she said, &#8220;the pacifist is not conscious of
+his real desires and therefore cannot be termed a true
+pervert. But the very term, passivism, is usually significant
+and goes very deep psychologically. In analysing
+my patients I struck against a buried impulse
+in them to suffer tyrannous treatment from an omnipotent
+master. The impulse was so strong that it
+amounted to a craving and tried to absorb all the
+psychic material within its reach. They did not recognise
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_378' name='page_378'></a>378</span>
+the original impulse, because that had long ago
+been crushed down by the exactions of civilised life.
+Nevertheless, they were tortured and teased, made unsettled
+and wretched by a something which continually
+baffled them. Deep under the upper crust of
+their personalities was concealed a seething desire to
+be completely, inevitably, relentlessly, unreservedly
+overwhelmed by a subjugation from which there was
+no escape.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She turned to Westmore:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s purely pathological, the condition of those two
+self-confessed pacifists. The pacifist loves suffering.
+The ordinary normal person avoids suffering when possible.
+He endures it only when something necessary
+or desirable cannot be gained in any other way. He
+may undergo agony at the mere thought of it. His
+bravery consists in facing danger and pain in spite
+of fear. But the extreme passivist, who is really an
+unconscious pervert, loves to dream of martyrdom
+and suffering. It must be a suffering, however, which
+is forced upon him, and it must be a personal matter,
+not impersonal and general, as in war. And he loves
+to contemplate a condition of complete captivity&mdash;of
+irresponsible passivity, in which all resistance is in
+vain.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know, they disgust me, those two!&#8221; said
+Westmore angrily. &#8220;I never could endure anything
+abnormal. And now that I know Esmé is&mdash;and that
+big lout, Mandel&mdash;I&#8217;ll keep away from them. Do you
+blame me, doctor?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; she said, much amused and turning to go,
+&#8220;they&#8217;re very interesting to physicians, you know&mdash;these
+non-resisting, pacifistic perverts. But outside a
+sanatorium I shouldn&#8217;t expect them to be very popular.&#8221;
+And she laughed and joined a big, good-looking
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_379' name='page_379'></a>379</span>
+man who had come to seek her, and who wore, in his
+buttonhole, the button of the French Legion of Honour.</p>
+<p>Thessalie had strolled forward along the terrace by
+herself, interested in the pretty spectacle and the play
+of light on jewels and gowns.</p>
+<p>Westmore, busy in expressing to Barres his opinion
+of Esmé and Mandel, did not at the moment miss Thessalie,
+who continued to saunter on along the balustrade
+of the terrace, under the blossoming row of
+orange trees.</p>
+<p>Just below her was another terrace and an oval
+pool set with tiny jets which seemed to spray the basin
+with liquid silver. Silvery fish, too, were swimming in
+it near the surface, sometimes flinging themselves clear
+out of water as though intoxicated by the unwonted
+lustre which flooded their crystal pool.</p>
+<p>To see them nearer, Thessalie ran lightly down the
+steps and walked toward the shimmering basin. And
+at the same time the head and shoulders of a man in
+evening dress, his bosom crossed by a sash of watered
+red silk, appeared climbing nimbly from a still lower
+level.</p>
+<p>She watched him step swiftly upon the terrace and
+cross it diagonally, walking in her direction toward the
+stone stairs which she had just descended. Then, paying
+him no further attention, she looked down into the
+water.</p>
+<p>He came along very near to where she stood, gazing
+into the pool&mdash;peered at her curiously&mdash;was already
+passing at her very elbow&mdash;when something made
+her lift her head and look around at him.</p>
+<p>The mock moonlight struck full across his features;
+and the shock of seeing him drove every vestige of colour
+from her own face.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_380' name='page_380'></a>380</span></div>
+<p>The man halted, staring at her in unfeigned amazement.
+Suddenly he snarled at her, baring his teeth
+in her shrinking face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Kismet dir!</i>&#8221; he whispered, &#8220;it ees <i>you</i>!...
+Nihla Quellen! <i>Now</i> I begin onderstan&#8217;!... Yas, I
+now onderstan&#8217; who arrange it that they haf arrest my
+good frien&#8217;, Tauscher! It ees <i>you</i>, then! Von Igel
+he has tol&#8217; me, look out once eef she escape&mdash;thees
+yoong leopardess&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez!&#8221; Thessalie&#8217;s young figure stiffened and the
+colour flamed in her cheeks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You leopardess!&#8221; he repeated, every tooth a-grin
+again with rage, &#8220;you misbegotten slut of a hunting
+cheetah! So thees is &#8217;ow you strike!... Ver&#8217; well.
+Yas, I see &#8217;ow it ees you strike at&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez!&#8221; she cried. &#8220;Listen to <i>me</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I &#8217;ear you! Allez!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez Bey! I am not afraid of you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ees it so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it is so. I <i>never</i> have been afraid of you!
+Not even there on the deck of the <i>Mirage</i>, that night
+when you tapped the hilt of your Kurdish knife and
+spoke of Seraglio Point! Nor when your scared spy
+shot at me in the corridor of the Tenth Street house;
+nor afterward at Dragon Court! Nor now! Do you
+understand, Eurasian jackal! Nor <i>now</i>! Anybody
+can see what <i>Heruli</i> whelped you! What are you doing
+in America? Kassim Pasha is your den, where your
+<i>rayah</i> loll and scratch in the sun! It is their <i>Keyeff</i>!
+And yours!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She took a quick step toward him, her eyes flashing,
+her white hand clenched:</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Allah Kerim</i>&mdash;do you say? <i>El Hamdu Lillah!</i>
+Do you take yourself for the <i>muezzin</i> of all jackals,
+then, howling blasphemies from some <i>minaret</i> in the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_381' name='page_381'></a>381</span>
+hills? Do you understand what they&#8217;d do to you in
+the <i>Hirka-i-Sherif Jamesi</i>? Because you are <i>nothing</i>;
+do you hear?&mdash;nothing but an Eurasian assassin!
+And Moslem and Christian alike know where <i>you</i> belong
+among the lost pariahs of Stamboul!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl was utterly transfigured. Whatever of the
+Orient was in her, now blazed white hot.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What have I done to you, Ferez? What have I
+ever done to you that you, even from my childhood,
+come always stepping noiselessly at my skirt&#8217;s edge?&mdash;always
+padding behind me at my heels, silent, sinister,
+whimpering with bared teeth for the courage to
+bite which God denies you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man stood almost motionless, moistening his
+dry lips with his tongue, but his eyes moved continually,
+stealing uneasy glances around him and upward,
+where, on the main terrace above them, the heads of
+the throng passed and repassed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla,&#8221; he said, &#8220;for all thees scorn and abuse of
+me, you know, in the false heart of you, why it ees so
+if I have seek you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dealer in lies! You would have sold me to
+d&#8217;Eblis! You thought you <i>had</i> sold me! You were
+paid for it, too!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; still!&#8221; He looked at her furtively.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean? You conspired with d&#8217;Eblis
+to ruin me, soul and body! You involved me in your
+treacherous propaganda in Paris. Through you I am
+an exile. If I go back to my own country, I shall
+go to a shameful death. You have blackened my honour
+in my country&#8217;s eyes. But that was not enough.
+No! You thought me sufficiently broken, degraded,
+terrified to listen to any proposition from you. You
+sent your agents to me with offers of money if I would
+betray my country. Finding I would not, you whined
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_382' name='page_382'></a>382</span>
+and threatened. Then, like the Eurasian dog you are,
+you tried to bargain. You were eager to offer me
+anything if I would keep quiet and not interfere&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nihla!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; she said, contemptuously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In spite of thees&mdash;of all you say&mdash;I have love you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Liar!&#8221; she retorted wrathfully. &#8220;Do you dare say
+that to me, whom you have already tried to murder?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say it. Yas. Eef it has not been so then you
+were dead long time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&mdash;you are trying to tell me that you spared
+me!&#8221; she demanded scornfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It ees so. Alexandre&mdash;d&#8217;Eblis, you know?&mdash;long
+time since he would have safety for us all&mdash;thees way.
+Non! Je ne pourrais pas vouz tuer, moi! It ees not
+in my heart, Nihla.... Because I have love you long
+time&mdash;ver&#8217; long time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because you have <i>feared</i> me long time, ver&#8217; long
+time!&#8221; she mocked him. &#8220;That is why, Ferez&mdash;because
+you are afraid; because you are only a jackal. And
+jackals never kill. No!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You say thees-a to me, Nihla?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I say it. You&#8217;re a coward! And I&#8217;ll tell you
+something more. I am going to make a complete
+statement to the French Government. I shall relate
+everything I know about d&#8217;Eblis, Bolo Effendi, a certain
+bureaucrat, an Italian politician, a Swiss banker,
+old Von-der-Goltz Pasha, Heimholz, Von-der-Hohe
+Pasha, and you, my Ferez&mdash;and you, also!</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<div class='figtag'>
+<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a>
+</div>
+<img src='images/illus-382.jpg' alt='' title='' width='361' height='500' />
+<br />
+<p class='caption'>
+HE CAME TOWARD HER STEALTHILY<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know what France will do to d&#8217;Eblis and
+his scoundrel friends? Do you guess what these duped
+Americans will do to Bolo Effendi? And to you? And
+to Von Papen and Boy-ed and Von Igel&mdash;yes, and to
+Bernstorff and his whole murderous herd of Germans?
+And can you imagine what my own doubly duped
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_383' name='page_383'></a>383</span>
+Government will surely, surely do, some day, to you,
+Ferez?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She laughed, but her dark eyes fairly glittered:</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>My</i> martyrdom is ending, God be thanked! And
+then I shall be free to serve where my heart is ... in
+Alsace!... Alsace!&mdash;forever French!&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the white light she saw the sweat break out on
+the man&#8217;s forehead&mdash;saw him grope for his handkerchief&mdash;and
+draw out a knife instead&mdash;never taking
+his eyes off her.</p>
+<p>She turned to run; but he had already blocked the
+way to the stone steps; and now he came creeping
+toward her, white as a cadaver, distracted from sheer
+terror, and rubbing the knife flat against his thigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you shall do thees&mdash;a filth to me&mdash;eh, Nihla?&#8221;
+he whispered with blanched lips. &#8220;It ees on me, your
+frien&#8217;, you spring to keel me, eh, my leopardess? Ver&#8217;
+well. But firs&#8217; I teach you somethings you don&#8217; know!&mdash;thees-a
+way, my Nihla!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He came toward her stealthily, moving more swiftly
+as she put the stone basin of the pool between them
+and cast an agonised glance up at the distant terrace.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jim!&#8221; she cried frantically. &#8220;Jim! Help me,
+Jim!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The gay din of the music above drowned her cry;
+she fled as Ferez darted toward her, but again he
+doubled and sprang back to bar the stone steps, and
+she halted, white and breathless, yet poised for instant
+flight.</p>
+<p>Again and again she called out desperately for aid;
+the noise of the orchestra smothered her cry. And
+if, indeed, anybody from the terrace above chanced to
+glance down, it is likely that they supposed these two
+were skylarking merrymakers at some irresponsible
+game of catch-who-can.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_384' name='page_384'></a>384</span></div>
+<p>Suddenly Thessalie remembered the lower level,
+where the automobiles were parked, and from which
+Ferez had first appeared. She could escape that way.
+There were the steps, not very far behind her. The
+next instant she turned and ran like a deer.</p>
+<p>And after her sped Ferez, his broad, thin-bladed
+knife pressed flat against the crimson sash across his
+breast, his dead-white visage distorted with that blind,
+convulsive fear which makes murderers out of cowards.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_385' name='page_385'></a>385</span>
+<a name='XXVIII_GREEN_JACKETS' id='XXVIII_GREEN_JACKETS'></a>
+<h2>XXVIII
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />GREEN JACKETS</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>Thoroughly worried by this time over the
+sudden disappearance of Thessalie Dunois, and
+unable to discover her anywhere on the terrace
+or in the house, Westmore, Barres and Dulcie Soane
+had followed the winding main drive as far as the level,
+where their car was waiting among scores of other
+cars.</p>
+<p>But Thessalie was not there; the chauffeur had not
+seen her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where in the world could she have gone?&#8221; faltered
+Dulcie. &#8220;She was standing up there on the terrace
+with us, a moment ago; then, the very next second, she
+had vanished utterly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore, grim and pallid, walked back along the
+drive; Dulcie followed with Barres. As they overtook
+Westmore, he cast one more glance back at the ranks
+of waiting cars, then stared up at the terraced hill
+above them, over which the artificial moon hung above
+the lindens, glowing with pallid, lambent fires.</p>
+<p>There was a vague whitish object on one of the
+grassy slopes&mdash;something in motion up there&mdash;something
+that was running erratically but swiftly&mdash;as
+though in pursuit&mdash;or <i>pursued</i>!</p>
+<p>&#8220;My God! What&#8217;s that, Garry!&#8221; he burst out.
+&#8220;That thing up there on the hillside!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He sprang for the steps, Barres after him, taking
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_386' name='page_386'></a>386</span>
+the ascent at incredible speed, up, up, then out along
+a shrub-set grassy slope.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa!&#8221; shouted Westmore. &#8220;Thessa!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But the girl was flat on her back on the grass now,
+fighting sturdily for life&mdash;twisting, striking, baffling
+the whining, panting thing that knelt on her, holding
+her and trying to drive a knife deep into the lithe
+young body which always slipped and writhed out of
+his trembling clutch.</p>
+<p>Again and again he tore himself free from her grasp;
+again and again his armed hand sought to strike, but
+she always managed to seize and drag it aside with
+the terrible strength of one dying. And at last, with
+a last crazed, superhuman effort, she wrested the knife
+from his unnerved fist, tore it out of his spent fingers.</p>
+<p>It fell somewhere near her on the grass; he strove
+to reach it and pick it up, but already her dauntless
+resistance began to exhaust him, and he groped for the
+knife in vain, trying to pin her down with one hand
+while, with desperate little fists, she rained blows on
+his bloodless face that dazed him.</p>
+<p>But there was still another way&mdash;a much better way,
+in fact. And, as the idea came to him, he ripped the
+red-silk sash from his breast and, in spite of her struggles,
+managed to pass it around her bare neck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now!&#8221; he panted. &#8220;I keep my word at last. C&#8217;est
+fini, ma petite Nihla.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jim! Help me!&#8221; she gasped, as Ferez pulled savagely
+at the silk noose, tightened it with all his
+strength, knotted it. And in that same second he
+heard Westmore crashing through the shrubbery, close
+to him.</p>
+<p>Instantly he rose to his knees on the grass; bounded
+to his feet, leaped over the low shrubs, and was off
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_387' name='page_387'></a>387</span>
+down the slope&mdash;gone like a swift hawk&#8217;s shadow on
+the hillside. Barres was after him.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>The soul of Thessalie Dunois was very near to its
+escape, now, brightening, glistening within its unconscious
+chrysalis, stretching its glorious limbs and
+wings; preparing to arise from its spectral tenement
+and soar aloft to its myriad sisters, where they
+swarmed glittering in the zenith.</p>
+<p>Had it not been for the knife lying beside her on
+the grass&mdash;the blade very bright in the starlight&mdash;truly
+the youthful soul of Thessalie had been sped.</p>
+<p>At the edge of the Gerhardts&#8217; pine woods, Barres,
+at fault, baffled, furious, out of breath and glaring
+around him in the dark, sullenly gave up the hopeless
+chase, turned in his tracks, and came back. Thessalie,
+lying in Dulcie&#8217;s arms, unclosed her eyes and looked
+up at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you all right?&#8221; he asked, kneeling and bending
+over her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes ... Jim came.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore&#8217;s voice was shaky.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We worked her arms&mdash;Dulcie and I&mdash;started respiration.
+She was nearly gone. That beast strangled
+her&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I lost him in those woods below. Who was he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez Bey!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thessalie sighed, closed her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s about all in,&#8221; whispered Westmore. And, to
+Dulcie: &#8220;Let me take her. I&#8217;ll carry her to the car.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that Thessalie opened her eyes again and the
+old, faintly humorous smile glimmered out at him as
+he stooped and lifted her from the grass.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can I really trust myself to your arms, Jim?&#8221; she
+murmured.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_388' name='page_388'></a>388</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better get used to &#8217;em,&#8221; he retorted. &#8220;You&#8217;ll
+never get away from them again&mdash;I can tell you that
+right now!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh.... In that case, I hope they&#8217;ll be&mdash;comfortable&mdash;your
+arms.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think they will be, Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps.&#8221; She gazed into his eyes very seriously
+from where she lay cradled in his powerful arms.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m tired, Jim.... So sore and bruised....
+When he was choking me I tried to think of you&mdash;believing
+it was the end&mdash;my last conscious thought&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My darling!&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so tired,&#8221; she breathed, &#8220;so lonely.... I
+shall be&mdash;contented&mdash;in your arms.... Always&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+She turned her head and rested her cheek against his
+breast with a deep sigh.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>He held her in his arms in the car all the way to
+Foreland Farms. Dulcie, however, had possessed herself
+of Thessalie&#8217;s left hand, and when she stroked it
+and pressed it to her lips the girl&#8217;s tightening fingers
+responded, and she always smiled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m just tired and sore,&#8221; she explained languidly.
+&#8220;Ferez battered me about so dreadfully!... It was
+so mortifying. I despised him all the time. It made
+me furious to be handled by such a contemptible and
+cowardly creature.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a matter for the police, now,&#8221; remarked Barres
+gloomily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Garry!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;What a very horrid
+ending to the moonlit way we took together so long
+ago!&mdash;the lovely silvery path of Pierrot!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The story of Pierrot is a tragedy, Thessa! We
+have been luckier on our moonlit way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Than Pierrot and Pierrette?&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_389' name='page_389'></a>389</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Death always saunters along the path of
+the moon, watching for those who take it.... You
+are very fortunate, Pierrette.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she murmured, &#8220;I am fortunate.... Am I
+not, Jim?&#8221; she added, looking up wistfully into his
+shadowy face above her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know about that,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but there&#8217;ll be
+no more moonlight business for you unless I&#8217;m with
+you. And under those circumstances,&#8221; he added, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+knock the block off Old Man Death if he tries to flirt
+with you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How brutal! Garry, do you hear his language to
+me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hear,&#8221; said Barres, laughing. &#8220;Your young man
+is a very matter of fact young man, Thessa, and I
+fancy he means what he says.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked up at Westmore; her lips barely moved:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you&mdash;dear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet I do,&#8221; he whispered. &#8220;I&#8217;ll pull this planet
+to pieces looking for you if you ever again steal away
+to a rendezvous with Old Man Death.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>When the car arrived at Foreland Farms, Thessalie
+felt able to proceed to her room upon her own legs,
+and with Dulcie&#8217;s arm around her.</p>
+<p>Westmore bade her good-night, kissing her hand&mdash;awkwardly&mdash;not
+being convincing in any rôle requiring
+attitudes.</p>
+<p>He wanted to take her into his arms, but seemed
+to know enough not to do it. Probably she divined
+his irresolute state of mind, for she extended her hand
+in a pretty manner quite unmistakable. And the romantic
+education of James H. Westmore began.</p>
+<p>Barres lingered at the door after Westmore departed,
+obeying a whispered aside from Dulcie. She
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_390' name='page_390'></a>390</span>
+came out in a few moments, carefully closing the bedroom
+door, and stood so, one hand behind her still resting
+on the knob.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thessa is crying. It&#8217;s only the natural relaxation
+from that horrible tension. I shall sleep with her to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is there anything&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no. She will be all right.... Garry, are
+they&mdash;are they&mdash;in <i>love</i>?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It rather looks that way, doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221; he said, smiling.</p>
+<p>She gazed at him questioningly, almost fearfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do <i>you</i> believe that Thessa is in love with Mr.
+Westmore?&#8221; she whispered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do. Don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t know.... I thought so. But&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t&mdash;didn&#8217;t know&mdash;what you would think of
+it.... I was afraid it might&mdash;might make you&mdash;unhappy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you <i>care</i> if Thessa loves somebody else?&#8221;
+she asked breathlessly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you think I did, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a strained silence; then the girl smiled at
+him in a confused manner, drew a swift, sudden breath,
+and, as he stepped forward to detain her, turned
+sharply away, pressing her forearm across her eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie! Did you understand me?&#8221; he said in a low,
+unsteady voice.</p>
+<p>She was already trying to open the door, but he
+dropped his right hand over her fingers where they
+were fumbling with the knob, and felt them trembling.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_391' name='page_391'></a>391</span>
+At the same moment, the sound of Thessalie&#8217;s smothered
+and convulsive sobbing came to him; and Dulcie&#8217;s
+nervous hand slipped from his.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie!&#8221; he pleaded. &#8220;Will you come back to me
+if I wait?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She had stopped; her back was still toward him, but
+she nodded slightly, then moved on toward the bed,
+where Thessalie lay all huddled up, her face buried in
+the tumbled pillows.</p>
+<p>Barres noiselessly closed the door.</p>
+<p>He had already started along the corridor toward
+his own room, when the low sound of voices in the staircase
+hall just below arrested his attention&mdash;his sister&#8217;s
+voice and Westmore&#8217;s. And he retraced his steps
+and went down to where they stood together by the
+library door.</p>
+<p>Lee wore a nurse&#8217;s dress and apron, such as a kennel-mistress
+affects, and her strong, capable hands were
+full of bottles labelled &#8220;Grover&#8217;s Specific&#8221;&mdash;the same
+being dog medicine of various sorts.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother is over at the kennels, Garry,&#8221; she said.
+&#8220;She and I are going to sit up with those desperately
+sick pups. If we can pull them through to-night they&#8217;ll
+probably get well, eventually, unless paralysis sets in.
+I was just telling Jim that a very attractive young
+Frenchman was here only a few minutes before you arrived.
+His name is Renoux. And he left this letter
+for you&mdash;fish it out of my apron pocket, there&#8217;s a
+dear&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her brother drew out the letter; his sister said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Renoux went away in a car with two other men.
+He asked me to say to you that there was no time to
+lose&mdash;whatever he meant by that! Now, I must hurry
+away!&#8221; She turned and sped through the hall and
+out through the swinging screen door on the north
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_392' name='page_392'></a>392</span>
+porch. Garry had already opened the note from
+Renoux, glanced over it; then he read it aloud to Westmore:</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>My dear Comrade</span>:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The fat&#8217;s in the fire! Your agents took Tauscher in
+charge to-day. Max Freund and Franz Lehr have just
+been arrested by your excellent Postal authorities. Warrants
+are out for Sendelbeck, Johann Klein, and Louis
+Hochstein. I think the latter are making for Mexico,
+but your Secret Service people are close on their heels.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Recall for von Papen and Boy-ed is certain to be demanded
+by your Government. Mine will look after Bolo
+Effendi and d&#8217;Eblis and their international gang of spies
+and crooks. Ferez Bey, however, still eludes us. He is
+somewhere in this vicinity, but of course, even when we
+locate him again, we can&#8217;t touch him. All we can do is
+to point him out to your Government agents, who will then
+keep him in sight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So far so good. But now I am forced to ask a very
+great favour of you, and, if I may, of your friend, Mr.
+Westmore. It is this: Skeel, contrary to what was expected
+of him, did not go to the place which is being
+watched. Nor have any of his men appeared at that rendezvous
+where there lies the very swift and well-armed
+launch, <i>Togue Rouge</i>, which we had every reason to suppose
+was to be their craft in this outrageous affair.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As a matter of fact, this launch is Tauscher&#8217;s. But it,
+and the pretended rendezvous, are what you call a plant.
+Skeel never intended to assemble his men there; never
+intended to use that particular launch. Tauscher merely
+planted it. Your men and the Canadian agents, unfortunately,
+are covering that vicinity and are still watching
+for Skeel, who has a very different plan in his crazy head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, this is Skeel&#8217;s plan, and this is the situation,
+learned by me from papers discovered on Tauscher:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The explosives bought and sent there by Tauscher himself
+are on a big, fast power-boat which is lying at anchor
+in a little cove called Saibling Bay. The boat flies the
+Quebec Yacht Club ensign, and a private pennant to which
+it has no right.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_393' name='page_393'></a>393</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Two of Skeel&#8217;s gang are already aboard&mdash;a man named
+Con McDermott and another, Kelly Walsh. Skeel joins
+the others at a hamlet near the Lake shore, known as Three
+Ponds. The tavern is a notorious and disreputable old
+brick hotel&mdash;what you call a speak-easy. That is their
+rendezvous.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, I have wired to your people, to Canada, to
+Washington. But Three Ponds is not a very long drive
+from here, if one ignores speed limits. Yes? Could you
+help us maintain a close surveillance over that damned
+tavern to-night? Is it too much to ask?</p>
+<p>&#8220;And if you and Mr. Westmore are graciously inclined
+to aid us, would you be so kind as to come armed? Because,
+mon ami, unless your Government people arrive in
+time, I shall certainly try to keep Skeel and his gang
+from boarding that boat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Au revoir, donc! I am off with Jacques Alost and
+Emile Souchez for that charming summer resort, the Three
+Ponds Tavern, where, from the neighbouring roadside
+woods, I shall hope to flag your automobile by sunrise
+and welcome you and your amiable friend, Mr. Westmore,
+as our brothers in arms.</p>
+<p class='sig1'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Renoux</span>, your comrade and, friend.&#8221;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>There was a silence. Then Westmore looked at his
+watch.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We ought to hustle,&#8221; he remarked. &#8220;I&#8217;ll get on
+some knickers and stick a couple of guns in my pocket.
+You&#8217;d better telephone to the garage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As they hastened up the stairs together, Barres said:
+&#8220;Have I time for a word with Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s up to you. I&#8217;m not going to say anything
+to Thessa. I wouldn&#8217;t care to miss this affair. If
+we arrived too late and they had already dynamited
+the Welland Canal, we&#8217;d never forgive ourselves.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres ran for his room.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>They were dressed, armed and driving out of the
+Foreland Farms gates inside of ten minutes. Barres
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_394' name='page_394'></a>394</span>
+had the wheel; Westmore sat beside him shoving new
+clips into two automatics and dividing the remaining
+boxes of ammunition.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The crazy devils,&#8221; he said to Barres, raising his
+voice to make himself heard. &#8220;Blow up the Canal,
+will they! What&#8217;s the matter with these Irishmen!
+The rest are not like &#8217;em. Look at the Flanders fighting,
+Garry! Look at the magnificent record of the
+Irish regiments! Why don&#8217;t our Irish play the
+game?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s their blind hatred of England,&#8221; shouted Barres,
+in his ear. &#8220;They&#8217;re monomaniacs. They can&#8217;t see
+anything else&mdash;can&#8217;t see what they&#8217;re doing to civilisation&mdash;cutting
+the very throat of Liberty every time
+they jab at England. What&#8217;s the use? You can&#8217;t
+talk to them. They&#8217;re lunatics. But when they start
+things over here they&#8217;ve got to be put into straitjackets.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They <i>are</i> lunatics,&#8221; repeated Westmore. &#8220;If they
+weren&#8217;t, they wouldn&#8217;t risk the wholesale murder of
+women and children. That is a purely German peculiarity;
+it&#8217;s what the normal boche delights in. But
+the Irish are white men. And it&#8217;s only when they&#8217;re
+crazy they&#8217;d try a thing like this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a long silence:</p>
+<p>&#8220;How fast, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Around fifty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How far is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;About twenty-five miles further.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The car rushed on through the night under the brilliant
+July stars and over a perfect road. In the hollows,
+where spring brooks ran under stone bridges, a
+slight, chilling mist hung, but otherwise the night was
+clear and warm.</p>
+<p>Woods, fields, farms, streamed by in the darkness;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_395' name='page_395'></a>395</span>
+the car tore on in the wake of its glaring, golden headlights,
+where clouds of little winged creatures of the
+night whirled and eddied like flecks of tinsel.</p>
+<p>Rarely they encountered other cars, for the hour
+was late, and there were no lights in the farm houses
+which they passed along the road.</p>
+<p>They spoke seldom now, their terrific speed and the
+roaring wind discouraging conversation. But the
+night air, which they whipped into a steadily flowing
+gale, was still soft and fragrant and warm; and with
+every mile their exhilaration increased.</p>
+<p>Now the eastern horizon, which had already paled
+to a leaden tone, was becoming pallid; and few stars
+were visible except directly overhead.</p>
+<p>Barres slowed down to twenty miles. Long double
+barriers of dense and misty woodland flanked the road
+on either hand, with few cultivated fields between and
+very rarely a ramshackle barn.</p>
+<p>Acres of alder swamp spread away on either hand,
+set with swale and pool and tussock. And across the
+flat desolation the east was all a saffron glow now,
+and the fish-crows were flying in twos and threes above
+the bog holes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a man in the road ahead,&#8221; said Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man threw up one arm in signal, then made a
+sweeping gesture indicating that they should turn
+to the left. The man was Renoux.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A cart-track and a pair of bars,&#8221; said Westmore.
+&#8220;Their car has been in there, too. You can see the
+tire marks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux sprang onto the running board without a
+word.</p>
+<p>Barres steered his car very gingerly in through the
+bars and along the edge of the woods where, presently,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_396' name='page_396'></a>396</span>
+the swampy cart-track turned to the right among the
+trees.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right!&#8221; said Renoux briskly, dropping to the
+ground. He shook hands with the two new arrivals,
+passed one arm under each of theirs, and led them
+forward along a wet, ferny road toward a hardwood
+ridge.</p>
+<p>Here Souchez and Alost, who lay full length on the
+dead leaves, got up, to welcome the reinforcements,
+and to point out the disreputable old brick building
+which stood close to the further edge of the woods,
+rear end toward them, and fronting on a rutty crossroad
+beyond.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are we in time?&#8221; inquired Barres in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Plenty,&#8221; said Renoux with a shrug. &#8220;They&#8217;ve
+been making a night of it in there. They&#8217;re at it yet.
+Listen!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Even at that distance the sound of revelry was audible&mdash;shouts,
+laughter, cheering, boisterous singing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Skeel is there,&#8221; remarked Renoux, &#8220;and I fancy
+he&#8217;s an anxious man. They ought to have been out
+of that house before dawn to escape observation, but I
+imagine Skeel has an unruly gang to deal with in those
+reckless Irishmen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Barres and Westmore peered out through the
+fringe of trees across the somewhat desolate landscape
+beyond.</p>
+<p>There were no houses to be seen. Here and there
+on the bogs were stakes of swale-hay and a gaunt tree
+or two.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That brick hotel,&#8221; said Renoux, &#8220;is one of those
+places outside town limits, where law is defied and license
+straddles the line. It&#8217;s run by McDermott, one
+of the two men aboard the power-boat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is their boat?&#8221; inquired Westmore.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_397' name='page_397'></a>397</span></div>
+<p>Renoux turned and pointed to the southwest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Over there in a cove&mdash;about a mile south of us.
+If they leave the tavern we can get to the boat first
+and block their road.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll be between two fires then,&#8221; observed Barres,
+&#8220;from the boat&#8217;s deck and from Skeel&#8217;s gang.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux nodded coolly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two on the boat and five in the hotel make seven.
+We are five.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then we can hold them,&#8221; said Westmore.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all I want,&#8221; rejoined Renoux briskly. &#8220;I
+just want to check them and hold them until your
+Government can send its agents here. I know I have
+no business to do this&mdash;probably I&#8217;ll get into trouble.
+But I can&#8217;t sit still and twirl my thumbs while people
+blow up a canal belonging to an ally of France, can I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hark!&#8221; motioned Barres. &#8220;They&#8217;re singing!
+Poor devils. They&#8217;re like Cree Indians singing their
+death song.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose,&#8221; said Westmore sombrely, &#8220;that deep
+in each man&#8217;s heart there remains a glimmer of hope
+that he, at least, may come out of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux shrugged:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps. But they are brave, these Irish&mdash;brave
+enough without a skinful of whiskey. And with it
+they are entirely reckless. No sane man can foretell
+what they will attempt.&#8221; He turned to include Alost
+and Souchez: &#8220;I think there can be only one plan of
+action for us, gentlemen. We should string out here
+along the edges of the woods. When they leave the
+tavern we should run for the landing and get into the
+shack that stands there&mdash;a rickety sort of boat-house
+on piles,&#8221; he explained to Westmore and Barres.
+&#8220;There is the path through the woods.&#8221; He pointed to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_398' name='page_398'></a>398</span>
+the left, where a trodden way bisected the wood-road.
+&#8220;It runs straight to the landing,&#8221; he added.</p>
+<p>Alost, at a sign from him, started off westward
+through the woods. Souchez followed. Renoux
+leaned back against a big walnut tree and signified
+that he would remain there.</p>
+<p>So Barres and Westmore moved forward to the
+right, very cautiously, circling the rear of the old
+brick hotel where a line of ruined horse-sheds and a
+rickety barn screened them from view of the hotel&#8217;s
+south windows.</p>
+<p>So close to the tavern did they pass that they could
+hear the noisy singing very distinctly and see through
+the open windows the movement of shadowy figures
+under the paling light of a ceiling lamp.</p>
+<p>Westmore ventured nearer in hopes of getting a better
+view from the horse-sheds; and Barres crept after
+him through the rank growth of swale and weeds.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look at them!&#8221; whispered Westmore. &#8220;They&#8217;re
+in a sort of uniform, aren&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve got on green jackets and stable-caps!
+Do you see that stack of rifles in the corner of the
+tap-room?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s Skeel!&#8221; muttered Westmore, &#8220;the man in
+the long cloak sitting by the fireplace with his face
+buried in his hands!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He looks utterly done in,&#8221; whispered Barres.
+&#8220;Probably he can&#8217;t manage that gang and he begins
+to realise it. Hark! You can hear every word of
+that thing they&#8217;re singing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Every word, indeed, was a yell or a shout, and distinct
+enough at that. They were roaring out &#8220;Green
+Jackets&#8221;:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Oh, Irish maids love none but those</i></p>
+<p><i>Who wear the jackets green!</i>&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_399' name='page_399'></a>399</span></div>
+<p>&mdash;all lolling and carousing around a slopping wet
+table&mdash;all save Murtagh Skeel, who, seated near the
+empty fireplace with his white face buried between his
+fingers, never stirred from his attitude of stony immobility.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s Soane!&#8221; whispered Barres, &#8220;that man who
+just got up!&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was Soane, his cap cocked aslant on his curly
+head, his green jacket unbuttoned, a tumbler aloft in
+his unsteady clutch.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whurroo!&#8221; he yelled. &#8220;<i>Gu ma slan a chi mi!&mdash;fear
+a&#8217; Bhata!</i>&#8221; And he laid a reckless hand on Skeel&#8217;s
+cloaked shoulder. But the latter never stirred; and
+Soane, winking at the company, flourished his tumbler
+aloft and broke into &#8220;The Risin&#8217; o&#8217; the Moon&#8221;:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, then tell me, Shawn O&#8217;Ferrall,</p>
+<p>Phwere the gatherin&#8217; is to be!</p>
+<p class='indent2'>In th&#8217; ould shpot be the river;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Sure it&#8217;s known to you an&#8217; me!&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>And the others began to shout the words:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Death to every foe and traitor!</i></p>
+<p><i>Forward! Strike the marchin&#8217; tune,</i></p>
+<p class='indent2'><i>And hurrah, me lads, for freedom!</i></p>
+<p><i>&#8217;Tis the risin&#8217; of the moon!</i></p>
+</div><div class='stanza'>
+<p>&#8220;At the risin&#8217; of the moon,</p>
+<p class='indent2'>At the risin&#8217; of the moon,</p>
+<p>And a thousand blades are flashin&#8217;</p>
+<p>At the risin&#8217; of the moon!&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s to Murtagh Skeel!&#8221; roared Soane, &#8220;<i>An
+gille dubh ciardubh!</i> Whurroo!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Skeel lifted his haggard visage, slowly looked
+around, got up from his stool.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_400' name='page_400'></a>400</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;In God&#8217;s name,&#8221; he said hoarsely, &#8220;if you&#8217;re not
+utterly shameless, take your rifles and follow me.
+Look at the sun! Have you lads gone stark mad?
+What will McDermott think? What will Kelly Walsh
+say? It&#8217;s too late to weigh anchor now; but it isn&#8217;t
+too late to go aboard and sober up, and wait for dark.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ve a rag of patriotism left you&#8217;ll quit your
+drinking and come with me!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, sure, then, Captain dear,&#8221; cried Soane, &#8220;is
+there anny harrm in a bite an&#8217; a sup f&#8217;r dyin&#8217; lads
+befoor they go whizzin&#8217; up to glory?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tell you we should be aboard! <i>Now!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>Another said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aw, the cap&#8217;s right. To hell with the booze.
+Come on, youse!&#8221; And he began to button his green
+jacket. Another got up on unsteady legs:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; he said, &#8220;there do be time f&#8217;r to up anchor
+an&#8217; shquare away for Point Dalhousie. Phwat&#8217;s interferin&#8217;,
+I dunno.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A Canadian cruiser,&#8221; said Skeel with dry bitterness.
+&#8220;Get aboard, anyway. We&#8217;ll have to wait for
+dark.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a reluctant shuffle of feet, a careless adjusting
+of green jackets and caps, a reaching for rifles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on,&#8221; whispered Barres, &#8220;we&#8217;ve got to get
+to the landing before they do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They turned and moved off swiftly among the trees.
+Renoux saw them coming, understood, turned and hurried
+southward to warn Alost and Souchez. Barres
+and Westmore caught glimpses of them ahead, striding
+along the trodden path under the trees, and ran
+to overtake them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re going aboard,&#8221; said Barres to Renoux.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_401' name='page_401'></a>401</span>
+&#8220;But they will probably wait till dark before starting.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They will unless they&#8217;re stark mad,&#8221; said Renoux,
+hurrying out to the southern borders of the wood.
+But no sooner had he arrived on the edge of the open
+swale country than he uttered an exclamation of rage
+and disgust, and threw up his hands helplessly.</p>
+<p>It was perfectly plain to the others what was happening&mdash;and
+what now could not be prevented.</p>
+<p>There lay the big, swift power boat, still at anchor;
+there stood the ramshackle wharf and boat-house.
+But already a boat had put off from the larger craft
+and was being rowed parallel with the shore toward
+the mouth of a marshy creek.</p>
+<p>Two men were rowing; a third steered.</p>
+<p>But what had suddenly upset Renoux was the sight
+of a line of green jackets threading the marsh to the
+north, led by Skeel, who was already exchanging handkerchief
+signals with the men in the boat.</p>
+<p>Renoux glanced at his prey escaping by an avenue
+of which he had no previous knowledge. It was death
+to go out into the open with pistols and face the fire
+of half a dozen rifles. No man there had any delusions
+concerning that.</p>
+<p>Souchez had field-glasses slung around his neck.
+Renoux took them, gazed at the receding boat, set his
+teeth hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ferez!&#8221; he growled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed Westmore, turning a violent
+red.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The man steering is Ferez Bey.&#8221; Renoux handed
+the binoculars to Westmore with a shrug.</p>
+<p>Barres, bending double, had gone out into the swale.
+A thicket of cat-tails screened him and he advanced
+very carefully, keeping his eyes on the green-jacketed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_402' name='page_402'></a>402</span>
+men whose heads, shoulders and rifles were visible
+above the swampy growth beyond.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Renoux, who was watching him in bitter
+silence, saw him turn and beckon violently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quick!&#8221; he said in a low, eager voice. &#8220;He may
+have found a ditch to shelter us!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Renoux was correct in his surmise: Barres stood
+with drawn pistol, awaiting them in a muddy ditch
+which ran through the reeds diagonally across the
+marsh. It was shin-deep in water.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We could make a pretty good stand in a ditch
+like this, couldn&#8217;t we?&#8221; he demanded excitedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet we can!&#8221; replied Renoux, jumping down
+beside him, followed by Westmore, Alost and Souchez
+in turn.</p>
+<p>Barres, leading, ran down the ditch as fast as he
+could, spattering himself and the others with mud and
+water at every step.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here!&#8221; panted Renoux, clambering nimbly out of
+the ditch and peering ahead through the reeds. Then
+he suddenly stood upright:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Halt!&#8221; he shouted. &#8220;It&#8217;s all up with you, Skeel!
+Keep away from that boat, or I order my men to
+fire!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a dead silence for a moment; then Skeel&#8217;s
+voice:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better not bother us, my good man. We know our
+business and you&#8217;d better learn yours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Skeel,&#8221; retorted Renoux, &#8220;my business is other
+people&#8217;s business, sometimes. It&#8217;s yours just now. I
+warn you to keep away from that boat!&#8221; He turned
+and hailed the boat in the next breath: &#8220;Boat ahoy!
+Keep off or we open fire!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The metallic bang of a rifle cut him short and his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_403' name='page_403'></a>403</span>
+straw hat was jerked from his head. Then came
+Skeel&#8217;s voice, calmly dangerous:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know you, Renoux! You have no standing here.
+Keep away or I&#8217;ll kill you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What lawful standing have you&mdash;leading an armed
+expedition from the United States into Canada!&#8221; retorted
+Renoux, red with anger and looking about for
+his hat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you don&#8217;t get back I shall surely kill you!&#8221; replied
+Skeel. &#8220;I count three, Renoux:&mdash;one&mdash;two&mdash;three.&#8221;
+Bang! went another rifle, and Renoux
+shrugged and dropped reluctantly back into the ditch.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re crazy,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Barres, fire across that
+boat out yonder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Westmore also fired, aiming carefully at Ferez. It
+was too far; they both knew it. But the ricochetting
+bullets seemed to sting the rowers to frantic exertion,
+and Ferez, at the rudder, ducked and squatted flat, the
+tip of his hat alone showing over the gunwale.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We can&#8217;t stop them,&#8221; said Renoux desperately.
+&#8220;They&#8217;re certain to reach that boat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now, suddenly, Skeel&#8217;s six rifles cracked viciously
+and the bullets came screaming over the ditch.</p>
+<p>Renoux fairly gnashed his teeth:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If a bluff won&#8217;t stop them, then I&#8217;m through,&#8221; he
+said bitterly. &#8220;I haven&#8217;t any authority. I haven&#8217;t
+the audacity to fire on them&mdash;to so insult your Government.
+And yet, by God!&mdash;there&#8217;s the canal to remember!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Another volley from the Green Jackets, and again
+the whizzing scream of bullets through the cat-tails
+above their heads.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look!&#8221; cried Barres. &#8220;They&#8217;re embarking already!
+There isn&#8217;t a chance of holding them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was true. Pell-mell through the shallow water
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_404' name='page_404'></a>404</span>
+and into the boat leaped the Green Jackets, holding
+their rifles high in the early sunshine; Skeel sprang
+in last of all; the oars flashed.</p>
+<p>Pistols hanging helplessly, Renoux and his men
+stood there foolishly on the edge of their ditch and
+watched the boat pull back to the big power-craft.</p>
+<p>Nobody said anything. The Green Jackets climbed
+aboard with a derisive cheer. So near was the power-boat
+that Skeel, Ferez, and Soane were easily distinguishable
+there in the brilliant sunshine, on deck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anyway,&#8221; burst out Renoux, &#8220;they&#8217;ll not dare lie
+there at anchor and wait for dark, now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Even as he spoke the anchor came up.</p>
+<p>Very deliberately the small boat was hoisted to the
+davits; the big craft began to move, swinging her nose
+north by west, the spray breaking under the bows.
+She was already under way, already headed for the
+open sea.</p>
+<p>And then, without any warning whatever, out of
+the northeast, almost sheering the jutting point which
+had concealed her, rushed a Canadian patrol boat, her
+forward deck a geyser of spouting foam.</p>
+<p>A red lance of flame leaped from her forward gun;
+the sharp crack shattered the summer stillness; the
+shell went skittering away over the water, across the
+bows of the power-boat; a string of signals broke
+from the cruiser&#8217;s mast.</p>
+<p>Then an amazing thing happened; the power-boat&#8217;s
+after deck suddenly swarmed with Green Jackets; there
+came a flash and a report, and a shell burst over the
+Canadian patrol cruiser, cutting her halliards to ribbons.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well&mdash;by&mdash;God!&#8221; gasped Renoux. Barres and
+Westmore stood petrified; but the three Frenchmen,
+with one accord, and standing up very straight, uncovered
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_405' name='page_405'></a>405</span>
+in the presence of these men who were about
+to die.</p>
+<p>Suddenly the power-boat broke out a flag at her
+masthead&mdash;a bright green flag bearing a golden harp.</p>
+<p>Again the small gun flashed from her after-deck;
+another gun spoke with a splitting report from the
+starboard bow; both the shells exploded close to the
+patrol cruiser, showering her superstructure with
+steel fragments.</p>
+<p>And, as the concussions subsided, and the landward
+echoes of the shots died away, far and clear from the
+power-boat&#8217;s decks, across the water, came the defiant
+chorus:</p>
+<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
+<p class='indent2'>&#8220;I saw the Shannon&#8217;s purple tide</p>
+<p class='indent2'>Roll by the Irish town,</p>
+<p>As I stood in the breach by Donal&#8217;s side</p>
+<p>When England&#8217;s flag went down!&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+</div></div>
+<p>They were singing &#8220;Green Jackets,&#8221; these doomed
+men. Barres could hear them cheering, too, for a moment
+only&mdash;then every gun aboard the flimsy little
+craft spat flame at the big Canadian, and the bursting
+shells splashed the water all around her with their
+pigmy fragments.</p>
+<p>Now, from the cruiser, a single gun bellowed. Instantly
+a red glare wrapped the launch; there was a
+heavy report, a fountain of rushing smoke and debris.</p>
+<p>Against the infernal flare of light Skeel&#8217;s tall figure
+showed in silhouette, standing there with hat lifted as
+though cheering. Again, from the cruiser, a gun
+crashed. Where the burning launch had been a horrible
+flare shot up; and the shocking detonation rocked
+land and sky. On the water a vast black cloud rested,
+almost motionless; and all around rained charred
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_406' name='page_406'></a>406</span>
+things that had been wood and steel and clothing, perhaps&mdash;perhaps
+fragments of living creatures.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>So passed into eternity Murtagh Skeel and his
+Green Jackets, hurled skyward in the twinkling of an
+eye on the roaring blast of their own magazine. What
+was left of their green flag attained an altitude unparalleled
+that sunny morning. But their souls soared
+higher into that blinding light which makes all things
+clear at last, solves all questions, all perplexities&mdash;which
+consoles all griefs and quiets at last the bitter
+mirth of those who have laughed at Death for conscience&#8217;s
+sake.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Very slowly the dull cloud lifted from the sunlit
+water. Dead fish floated there; others, half-stunned,
+lay awash with fins quivering, or strove to turn over,
+shining silver white in the morning sun.</p>
+<hr class='toprule' />
+<div class='chsp'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_407' name='page_407'></a>407</span>
+<a name='XXIX_ASTHORE' id='XXIX_ASTHORE'></a>
+<h2>XXIX
+<span class='chsub'> <br /><br />ASTHORE</span></h2>
+</div>
+<p>The sun hung low over Northbrook hills as
+Barres turned his touring car in between the
+high, white service gates of Foreland Farms,
+swung around the oval and backed into the garage.</p>
+<p>Barres senior, very trim in tweeds, the web-straps
+of a creel and a fly-book wallet crossing his breast,
+glanced up from his absorbing occupation of preparing
+evening casts on a twelve-foot, tapered mist-leader.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; he said absently, glancing from his son to
+Westmore through his monocle, &#8220;where have you been
+keeping yourselves all day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you all about it later, dad,&#8221; said Garry,
+emerging from the garage with Westmore. &#8220;Where
+is mother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the kennels, I believe.... What do you think
+of this cast, Jim?&mdash;a whirling dun for a dropper, a
+hare&#8217;s ear for a&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He checked himself; glanced
+doubtfully at the two young men.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re somewhat muddy,&#8221; he remarked; and continued
+to explore his fly-book for new combinations.</p>
+<p>Westmore, very weary, started for the house; Garry
+walked across to the kennel gate, let himself in among
+a dozen segregated and very demonstrative English
+setters, walked along the tree-bordered alley behind
+the garage, and, shutting out the affectionate but
+quarantined dogs, entered the kennels.</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_408' name='page_408'></a>408</span></div>
+<p>His mother, in smock and apron, and wearing rubber
+gloves, was seated on the edge of a straw-littered
+bunk, a bottle in one hand, a medicine-dropper in the
+other. Her four-footed patient, swathed in blankets,
+lay on the straw beside her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, dear,&#8221; she said, looking up at her son,
+&#8220;where have you been all night, and most of to-day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you about it later, mother. There&#8217;s something
+else I want to ask you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He fell silent,
+watching her measure out fourteen drops of Grover&#8217;s
+Specific for distemper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m listening, Garry,&#8221; she said, bending over the
+sick pup and gently forcing open his feverish jaws.
+Then she dropped her medicine far back on his tongue;
+the pup gulped, sneezed, looked at her out of dull eyes
+and feebly wagged his tail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to pull him through, Garry,&#8221; she said.
+&#8220;The other pups are doing well, too. But your sister
+and I were up with them all night. I only hope and
+pray that the distemper doesn&#8217;t spread.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She looked up at her son:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, dear, what is it you have to ask me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother, do you like Dulcie Soane?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I scarcely know her yet.... She&#8217;s very sweet&mdash;very
+young&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you like her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;yes&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She looked intently at her tall,
+unsmiling son. &#8220;But I don&#8217;t even know who she is,
+Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her son bent down beside her and put one arm
+around her shoulder. She sat quite motionless with
+the bottle of Grover&#8217;s Specific in one rubber-gloved
+hand, the medicine dropper poised in the other.</p>
+<p>He said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie&#8217;s name is Fane, not Soane. Her grandfather
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_409' name='page_409'></a>409</span>
+was Sir Barry Fane, of Fane Court&mdash;an Irishman.
+His daughter, Eileen, was Dulcie&#8217;s mother....
+Her father&mdash;is dead&mdash;I believe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;this explains nothing, Garry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it not explanation enough, mother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it enough for you, my son?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her head slowly drooped. She sat gazing in silence
+at the straw-littered floor.</p>
+<p>He looked earnestly, anxiously at his mother&#8217;s face.
+Her brooding expression remained tranquil but inscrutable.</p>
+<p>He said, watching her intently:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wasn&#8217;t sure about myself until last night. I
+don&#8217;t know about Dulcie, whether she can care for me&mdash;in
+this new way.... We were friends. But I am
+in love with her now.... Deeply.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was one of the moments in his career which remain
+fixed forever in a young man&#8217;s memory.</p>
+<p>In a mother&#8217;s memory, too. Whatever she says
+and does then, he never forgets. She, too, remembers
+always.</p>
+<p>He stood leaning over her in the dim light of the
+kennel, one arm around her shoulders, waiting. And
+presently she lifted her head, looked him quietly in
+the eyes, bent forward very gently, and kissed him.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Dulcie was not in the house, nor was Thessalie.</p>
+<p>Barres and Westmore exchanged conversation between
+their open doors while bathing and dressing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know, Garry,&#8221; admitted the latter, &#8220;I feel all
+shaken up, yet, over that ghastly business.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So do I.... If they hadn&#8217;t died so gamely....
+But Skeel was a <i>man</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet he was, crazy or sane!... What a pity!...
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_410' name='page_410'></a>410</span>
+And that poor devil, Soane! Did you hear them
+cheering there, at the last? And what superb nerve&mdash;breaking
+out that green flag!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And think of their opening on that big patrol
+boat! They hadn&#8217;t a chance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They had no chance anyway,&#8221; said Westmore.
+&#8220;It meant execution if they surrendered&mdash;at least,
+they probably thought so. But how do you suppose
+that cowardly strangler, Ferez, felt when he realised
+that Skeel was going to fight?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He certainly got what was coming to him, didn&#8217;t
+he?&#8221; said Barres grimly. &#8220;You&#8217;ll tell Thessa, won&#8217;t
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As soon as I can find her,&#8221; nodded Westmore, giving
+his fresh bow-tie a most killing twist.</p>
+<p>He was ready before Barres was, and he lost no
+time in starting out to find Thessalie.</p>
+<p>Barres, following him later, discovered him on the
+library lounge with Thessalie&#8217;s fair cheek resting
+against his.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m s-sorry!&#8221; he stammered, backing out, and very
+conscious of Westmore&#8217;s unconcealed annoyance. But
+Thessalie called to him in a perfectly calm voice, and
+he ventured to come back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you going to tell Dulcie about this horrible affair?&#8221;
+she asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not immediately.... Are you feeling all right,
+Thessa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I had a horrid night. Isn&#8217;t it odd how a
+girl can so completely lose her nerve after a thing is
+all over?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the best time to lose it,&#8221; said Westmore.
+And to Barres: &#8220;She&#8217;s bruised from head to foot
+and her neck hurts yet&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is nothing,&#8221; murmured Thessalie, looking smilingly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_411' name='page_411'></a>411</span>
+at her lover. Then they both glanced at Barres.</p>
+<p>There was a silence. Side by side on the library
+lounge they continued to gaze expectantly at Barres.
+And when he got it into his head that this polite expectancy
+might express their desire for his early departure,
+he backed out again, embarrassed and
+slightly irritated.</p>
+<p>Thessalie called to him very sweetly:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you are looking for Dulcie, I left her a few
+minutes ago over by the wall-fountain in the rose arbour.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; he said, and turned back through the
+hall, traversing it to the north veranda.</p>
+<p>There was no sign of Dulcie in the garden or on the
+lawn. He walked slowly across the clipped grass, beyond
+the pool, and, turning to the right past a sun-dial,
+stepped into the long rose-arbour. At the further end
+of the blossoming tunnel he saw her seated on the low
+wall in the rear of the tea-house. Her head was
+turned toward the woods beyond.</p>
+<p>When he was near her she heard him and looked
+around, was on the point of rising, but something in
+his expression held her motionless.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where have you been, Garry?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He ignored the question, seated himself beside her
+on the wall, and drew both her hands into his. He
+saw the swift colour stain her face, the lovely, disconcerted
+eyes lower.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Last night,&#8221; he said, &#8220;did you come back as you
+promised?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you found me gone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What could you have thought of me, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;my thoughts were&mdash;not very clear.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_412' name='page_412'></a>412</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Are they clearer?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her head remained lowered but she raised her grey
+eyes to his. Her face had become very still and
+white.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dulcie,&#8221; he said under his breath, &#8220;I am in love
+with you.... What will you do about it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, after a little while:</p>
+<p>&#8220;W-what shall I do, Garry?&#8221; she whispered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Love me. Can you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She remained silent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you?&mdash;Dulcie Fane!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her lips stirred, but no sound came.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are so wonderful,&#8221; he said. &#8220;I am just realising
+that I began to fall in love with you a long time
+ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The declining sun sent a red shaft across the fields,
+painting every tree-trunk, gilding bramble and brake.
+A single ray touched the girl&#8217;s white neck and turned
+her copper-tinted hair to burning gold.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you love me? Can you love me, that way, Dulcie?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She rose abruptly, and he rose too, retaining her
+hands; but as she turned her head from him he saw
+her mouth quiver.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dearest&mdash;dearest!&#8221; But she interrupted him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to tell you&mdash;that I don&#8217;t understand why
+I should be called by my mother&#8217;s maiden name....
+I w-want you to know that I <i>don&#8217;t</i> understand it ...
+if that would make a difference&mdash;in your c-caring for
+me.... And I wish you to know that&mdash;that I love
+and worship her memory&mdash;and that I am happy and
+proud&mdash;and <i>proud</i>&mdash;to bear her name.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My darling&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Dulcie.&#8221;</p>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_413' name='page_413'></a>413</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;And do you still want me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You adorable child&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Do</i> you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I do&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He caught her in his arms,
+held her close, lifted her flushed face. &#8220;Now, tell me
+whether you can love <i>me</i>! Tell me everything that&#8217;s
+hidden in your mind and heart!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Garry,&#8221; she faltered, &#8220;I do belong to you. I
+belong to you anyway, because you made me. And
+I&#8217;ve always been in love with you&mdash;always!&mdash;always
+from the very beginning of the world, <i>Asthore</i>! And
+now&mdash;if you want me&mdash;this way&mdash;Garry <i>mo veel
+asthore</i>&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Her hands crept from his breast to his
+shoulders; stole up around his neck. &#8220;Asthore,&#8221; she
+murmured; and their lips met in their first kiss. Then
+she gravely turned her head and laid her cheek against
+his; and he heard her murmuring to herself:</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Drahareen o machree, mo veel asthore!</i> This man&mdash;this
+man who takes my heart&mdash;and gives me
+his....&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you murmuring there all to yourself?&#8221;
+he whispered, laughing and drawing her closer. But
+she only clung to him passionately and her closed lids
+kept back the starting tears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, dear?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;H-happiness,&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;and pride, perhaps.... And
+my love for you, Asthore!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOONLIT WAY***</p>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Moonlit Way, by Robert W. Chambers,
+Illustrated by A. I. Keller
+
+
+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 Moonlit Way
+
+
+Author: Robert W. Chambers
+
+
+
+Release Date: August 28, 2010  [eBook #33557]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOONLIT WAY***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Katherine Ward, Darleen Dove, Roger Frank, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+      See 33557-h.htm or 33557-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33557/33557-h/33557-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33557/33557-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MOONLIT WAY
+
+A Novel
+
+by
+
+ROBERT W. CHAMBERS
+
+Author of "The Common Law," "The Fighting Chance," Etc.
+
+Illustrated by A. I. Keller
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+D. Appleton and Company   New York  London   1919
+
+
+[Illustration: HIS STRAINED GAZE SOUGHT TO FIX ITSELF ON THIS
+FACE--(PAGE 325)]
+
+
+Copyright, 1919, by Robert W. Chambers
+
+Copyright, 1918, 1919, by the International Magazine Co.
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+TO MY FRIEND FRANK HITCHCOCK
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+          Prologue--Claire-de-Lune                                   1
+       I. A Shadow Dance                                            19
+      II. Sunrise                                                   28
+     III. Sunset                                                    39
+      IV. Dusk                                                      46
+       V. In Dragon Court                                           57
+      VI. Dulcie                                                    78
+     VII. Opportunity Knocks                                        87
+    VIII. Dulcie Answers                                           102
+      IX. Her Day                                                  109
+       X. Her Evening                                              123
+      XI. Her Night                                                131
+     XII. The Last Mail                                            155
+    XIII. A Midnight Tete-a-Tete                                   170
+     XIV. Problems                                                 186
+      XV. Blackmail                                                194
+     XVI. The Watcher                                              205
+    XVII. A Conference                                             216
+   XVIII. The Babbler                                              233
+     XIX. A Chance Encounter                                       249
+      XX. Grogan's                                                 265
+     XXI. The White Blackbird                                      278
+    XXII. Foreland Farms                                           292
+   XXIII. A Lion in the Path                                       312
+    XXIV. A Silent House                                           328
+     XXV. Starlight                                                339
+    XXVI. 'Be-N Eirinn I!                                          349
+   XXVII. The Moonlit Way                                          366
+  XXVIII. Green Jackets                                            385
+    XXIX. Asthore                                                  407
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+  His strained gaze sought to fix itself on this face
+      before him                                          Frontispiece
+  Nihla put her feathered steed through its absurd
+      paces                                                          8
+  "You little miracle!"                                            100
+  He came toward her stealthily                                    382
+
+
+
+
+  Novels By Robert W. Chambers
+
+  The Laughing Girl
+  The Restless Sex
+  Barbarians
+  The Dark Star
+  The Girl Philippa
+  Who Goes There!
+  Athalie
+  The Business of Life
+  The Gay Rebellion
+  The Streets of Ascalon
+  The Common Law
+  The Fighting Chance
+  The Younger Set
+  The Danger Mark
+  The Firing Line
+  Japonette
+  Quick Action
+  The Adventures of A Modest Man
+  Anne's Bridge
+  Between Friends
+  The Better Man
+  Police!!!
+  Some Ladies in Haste
+  The Tree of Heaven
+  The Tracer of Lost Persons
+  The Hidden Children
+  The Moonlit Way
+  Cardigan
+  The Reckoning
+  The Maid-at-Arms
+  Ailsa Paige
+  Special Messenger
+  The Haunts of Men
+  Lorraine
+  Maids of Paradise
+  Ashes of Empire
+  The Red Republic
+  Blue-Bird Weather
+  A Young Man in a Hurry
+  The Green Mouse
+  Iole
+  The Mystery of Choice
+  The Cambric Mask
+  The Maker of Moons
+  The King in Yellow
+  In Search of the Unknown
+  The Conspiritors
+  A King and a Few Dukes
+  In the Quarter
+  Outsiders
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+CLAIRE-DE-LUNE
+
+
+There was a big moon over the Bosphorus; the limpid waters off
+Seraglio Point glimmered; the Golden Horn was like a sheet of beaten
+silver inset with topaz and ruby where lanterns on rusting Turkish
+warships dyed the tarnished argent of the flood. Except for these, and
+the fixed lights on the foreign guard-ships and on a big American
+steam yacht, only a pale and nebulous shoreward glow betrayed the
+monster city.
+
+Over Pera the full moon's lustre fell, silvering palace, villa, sea
+and coast; its rays glimmered on bridge and wharf, bastion, tower
+arsenal, and minarette, transforming those big, sprawling, ramshackle
+blotches of architecture called Constantinople into that shadowy,
+magnificent enchantment of the East, which all believe in, but which
+exists only in a poet's heart and mind.
+
+Night veiled the squalour of Balat, and its filth, its meanness, its
+flimsy sham. Moonlight made of Galata a marvel, ennobling every
+bastard dome, every starved facade, every unlovely and attenuated
+minarette, and invested with added charm each really lovely ruin, each
+tower, palace, mosque, garden wall and balcony, and every crenelated
+battlement, where the bronze bulk of ancient cannon slanted, outlined
+in silver under the Prophet's moon.
+
+Tiny moving lights twinkled on the Galata Bridge; pale points of
+radiance dotted Scutari; but the group of amazing cities called
+Constantinople lay almost blotted out under the moon.
+
+Darker at night than any capital in the world, its huge, solid and
+ancient shapes bulking gigantic in the night, its noble ruins cloaked,
+its cheap filth hidden, its flimsy Coney Island aspect transfigured
+and the stylographic-pen architecture of a hundred minarettes softened
+into slender elegance, Constantinople lay dreaming its immemorial
+dreams under the black shadow of the Prussian eagle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The German Embassy was lighted up like a Pera cafe; the drawing-rooms
+crowded with a brilliant throng where sashes, orders, epaulettes and
+sabre-tache glittered, and jewels blazed and aigrettes waved under the
+crystal chandeliers, accenting and isolating sombre civilian evening
+dress, which seemed mournful, rusty, and out of the picture, even when
+plastered over with jewelled stars.
+
+Few Turkish officials and officers were present, but the disquieting
+sight of German officers in Turkish uniforms was not uncommon. And the
+Count d'Eblis, Senator of France, noted this phenomenon with lively
+curiosity, and mentioned it to his companion, Ferez Bey.
+
+Ferez Bey, lounging in a corner with Adolf Gerhardt, for whom he had
+procured an invitation, and flanked by the Count d'Eblis, likewise a
+guest aboard the rich German-American banker's yacht, was very much in
+his element as friend and mentor.
+
+For Ferez Bey knew everybody in the Orient--knew when to cringe, when
+to be patronising, when to fawn, when to assert himself, when to be
+servile, when impudent.
+
+He was as impudent to Adolf Gerhardt as he dared be, the banker not
+knowing the subtler shades and differences; he was on an equality with
+the French senator, Monsieur le Comte d'Eblis because he knew that
+d'Eblis dared not resent his familiarity.
+
+Otherwise, in that brilliant company, Ferez Bey was a jackal--and he
+knew it perfectly--but a valuable jackal; and he also knew that.
+
+So when the German Ambassador spoke pleasantly to him, his attitude
+was just sufficiently servile, but not overdone; and when Von-der-Hohe
+Pasha, in the uniform of a Turkish General of Division, graciously
+exchanged a polite word with him during a moment's easy gossip with
+the Count d'Eblis, Ferez Bey writhed moderately under the honour, but
+did not exactly squirm.
+
+To Conrad von Heimholz he ventured to present his German-American
+patron, Adolf Gerhardt, and the thin young military attache
+condescended in his Prussian way to notice the introduction.
+
+"Saw your yacht in the harbour," he admitted stiffly. "It is
+astonishing how you Americans permit no bounds to your somewhat
+noticeable magnificence."
+
+"She's a good boat, the _Mirage_," rumbled Gerhardt, in his bushy red
+beard, "but there are plenty in America finer than mine."
+
+"Not many, Adolf," insisted Ferez, in his flat, Eurasian voice--"not
+ver' many anyw'ere so fine like your _Mirage_."
+
+"I saw none finer at Kiel," said the attache, staring at Gerhardt
+through his monocle, with the habitual insolence and disapproval of
+the Prussian junker. "To me it exhibits bad taste"--he turned to the
+Count d'Eblis--"particularly when the _Meteor_ is there."
+
+"Where?" asked the Count.
+
+"At Kiel. I speak of Kiel and the ostentation of certain foreign yacht
+owners at the recent regatta."
+
+Gerhardt, redder than ever, was still German enough to swallow the
+meaningless insolence. He was not getting on very well at the Embassy
+of his fellow countrymen. Americans, properly presented, they endured
+without too open resentment; for German-Americans, even when
+millionaires, their contempt and bad manners were often undisguised.
+
+"I'm going to get out of this," growled Gerhardt, who held a good
+position socially in New York and in the fashionable colony at
+Northbrook. "I've seen enough puffed up Germans and over-embroidered
+Turks to last me. Come on, d'Eblis----"
+
+Ferez detained them both:
+
+"Surely," he protested, "you would not miss Nihla!"
+
+"Nihla?" repeated d'Eblis, who had passed his arm through Gerhardt's.
+"Is that the girl who set St. Petersburg by the ears?"
+
+"Nihla Quellen," rumbled Gerhardt. "I've heard of her. She's a dancer,
+isn't she?"
+
+Ferez, of course, knew all about her, and he drew the two men into the
+embrasure of a long window.
+
+It was not happening just exactly as he and the German Ambassador had
+planned it together; they had intended to let Nihla burst like a
+flaming jewel on the vision of d'Eblis and blind him then and there.
+
+Perhaps, after all, it was better drama to prepare her entrance. And
+who but Ferez was qualified to prepare that entree, or to speak with
+authority concerning the history of this strange and beautiful young
+girl who had suddenly appeared like a burning star in the East, had
+passed like a meteor through St. Petersburg, leaving several
+susceptible young men--notably the Grand Duke Cyril--mentally unhinged
+and hopelessly dissatisfied with fate.
+
+"It is ver' fonny, d'Eblis--une histoire chic, vous savez! Figurez
+vous----"
+
+"Talk English," growled Gerhardt, eyeing the serene progress of a
+pretty Highness, Austrian, of course, surrounded by gorgeous uniforms
+and empressement.
+
+"Who's that?" he added.
+
+Ferez turned; the gorgeous lady snubbed him, but bowed to d'Eblis.
+
+"The Archduchess Zilka," he said, not a whit abashed. "She is a ver'
+great frien' of mine."
+
+"Can't you present me?" enquired Gerhardt, restlessly; "--or you,
+d'Eblis--can't you ask permission?"
+
+The Count d'Eblis nodded inattentively, then turned his heavy and
+rather vulgar face to Ferez, plainly interested in the "histoire" of
+the girl, Nihla.
+
+"What were you going to say about that dancer?" he demanded.
+
+Ferez pretended to forget, then, apparently recollecting:
+
+"Ah! Apropos of Nihla? It is a ver' piquant storee--the storee of
+Nihla Quellen. Zat is not 'er name. No! Her name is Dunois--Thessalie
+Dunois."
+
+"French," nodded d'Eblis.
+
+"Alsatian," replied Ferez slyly. "Her fathaire was captain--Achille
+Dunois?--you know----?"
+
+"What!" exclaimed d'Eblis. "Do you mean that notorious fellow, the
+Grand Duke Cyril's hunting cheetah?"
+
+"The same, dear frien'. Dunois is dead--his bullet head was crack
+open, doubtless by som' ladee's angree husban'. There are a few
+thousan' roubles--not more--to stan' between some kind gentleman and
+the prettee Nihla. You see?" he added to Gerhardt, who was listening
+without interest, "--Dunois, if he was the Gran' Duke's cheetah, kept
+all such merry gentlemen from his charming daughtaire."
+
+Gerhardt, whose aspirations lay higher, socially, than a dancing girl,
+merely grunted. But d'Eblis, whose aspirations were always below even
+his own level, listened with visibly increasing curiosity. And this
+was according to the programme of Ferez Bey and Excellenz. As the Hun
+has it, "according to plan."
+
+"Well," enquired d'Eblis heavily, "did Cyril get her?"
+
+"All St. Petersburg is still laughing at heem," replied the voluble
+Eurasian. "Cyril indeed launched her. And that was sufficient--yet,
+that first night she storm St. Petersburg. And Cyril's reward? Listen,
+d'Eblis, they say she slapped his sillee face. For me, I don't know.
+That is the storee. And he was ver' angree, Cyril. You know? And, by
+God, it was what Gerhardt calls a 'raw deal.' Yess? Figurez
+vous!--this girl, deja lancee--and her fathaire the Grand Duke's
+hunting cheetah, and her mothaire, what? Yes, mon ami, a 'andsome
+Georgianne, caught quite wild, they say, by Prince Haledine! For me, I
+believe it. Why not?... And then the beautiful Georgianne, she fell to
+Dunois--on a bet?--a service rendered?--gratitude of Cyril?----Who
+knows? Only that Dunois must marry her. And Nihla is their daughtaire.
+Voila!"
+
+"Then why," demanded d'Eblis, "does she make such a fuss about being
+grateful? I hate ingratitude, Ferez. And how can she last, anyway? To
+dance for the German Ambassador in Constantinople is all very well,
+but unless somebody launches her properly--in Paris--she'll end in a
+Pera cafe."
+
+Ferez held his peace and listened with all his might.
+
+"I could do that," added d'Eblis.
+
+"Please?" inquired Ferez suavely.
+
+"Launch her in Paris."
+
+The programme of Excellenz and Ferez Bey was certainly proceeding as
+planned.
+
+But Gerhardt was becoming restless and dully irritated as he began to
+realise more and more what caste meant to Prussians and how
+insignificant to these people was a German-American multimillionaire.
+And Ferez realised that he must do something.
+
+There was a Bavarian Baroness there, uglier than the usual run of
+Bavarian baronesses; and to her Ferez nailed Gerhardt, and wriggled
+free himself, making his way amid the gorgeous throngs to the Count
+d'Eblis once more.
+
+"I left Gerhardt planted," he remarked with satisfaction; "by God, she
+is uglee like camels--the Baroness von Schaunitz! Nev' mind. It is
+nobility; it is the same to Adolf Gerhardt."
+
+"A homely woman makes me sick!" remarked d'Eblis. "Eh, mon Dieu!--one
+has merely to look at these ladies to guess their nationality! Only in
+Germany can one gather together such a collection of horrors. The only
+pretty ones are Austrian."
+
+Perhaps even the cynicism of Excellenz had not realised the perfection
+of this setting, but Ferez, the nimble witted, had foreseen it.
+
+Already the glittering crowds in the drawing rooms were drawing aside
+like jewelled curtains; already the stringed orchestra had become mute
+aloft in its gilded gallery.
+
+The gay tumult softened; laughter, voices, the rustle of silks and
+fans, the metallic murmur of drawing-room equipment died away. Through
+the increasing stillness, from the gilded gallery a Thessalonian reed
+began skirling like a thrush in the underbrush.
+
+Suddenly a sand-coloured curtain at the end of the east room twitched
+open, and a great desert ostrich trotted in. And, astride of the big,
+excited, bridled bird, sat a young girl, controlling her restless
+mount with disdainful indifference.
+
+"Nihla!" whispered Ferez, in the large, fat ear of the Count d'Eblis.
+The latter's pallid jowl reddened and his pendulous lips tightened to
+a deep-bitten crease across his face.
+
+To the weird skirling of the Thessalonian pipe the girl, Nihla, put
+her feathered steed through its absurd paces, aping the haute-ecole.
+
+There is little humour in your Teuton; they were too amazed to laugh;
+too fascinated, possibly by the girl herself, to follow the panicky
+gambols of the reptile-headed bird.
+
+The girl wore absolutely nothing except a Yashmak and a zone of blue
+jewels across her breasts and hips.
+
+Her childish throat, her limbs, her slim, snowy body, her little naked
+feet were lovely beyond words. Her thick dark hair flew loose, now
+framing, now veiling an oval face from which, above the gauzy
+Yashmak's edge, two dark eyes coolly swept her breathless audience.
+
+But under the frail wisp of cobweb, her cheeks glowed pink, and two
+full red lips parted deliciously in the half-checked laughter of
+confident, reckless youth.
+
+[Illustration: NIHLA PUT HER FEATHERED STEED THROUGH ITS ABSURD PACES]
+
+Over hurdle after hurdle she lifted her powerful, half-terrified
+mount; she backed it, pirouetted, made it squat, leap, pace, trot,
+run with wings half spread and neck stretched level.
+
+She rode sideways, then kneeling, standing, then poised on one foot;
+she threw somersaults, faced to the rear, mounted and dismounted at
+full speed. And through the frail, transparent Yashmak her parted red
+lips revealed the glimmer of teeth and her childishly engaging
+laughter rang delightfully.
+
+Then, abruptly, she had enough of her bird; she wheeled, sprang to the
+polished parquet, and sent her feathered steed scampering away through
+the sand-coloured curtains, which switched into place again
+immediately.
+
+Breathless, laughing that frank, youthful, irresistible laugh which
+was to become so celebrated in Europe, Nihla Quellen strolled
+leisurely around the circle of her applauding audience, carelessly
+blowing a kiss or two from her slim finger-tips, evidently quite
+unspoiled by her success and equally delighted to please and to be
+pleased.
+
+Then, in the gilded gallery the strings began; and quite naturally,
+without any trace of preparation or self-consciousness, Nihla
+began to sing, dancing when the fascinating, irresponsible measure
+called for it, singing again as the sequence occurred. And the
+enchantment of it all lay in its accidental and detached allure--as
+though it all were quite spontaneous--the song a passing whim, the
+dance a capricious after-thought, and the whole thing done entirely to
+please herself and give vent to the sheer delight of a young girl, in
+her own overwhelming energy and youthful spirits.
+
+Even the Teuton comprehended that, and the applause grew to a roar
+with that odd undertone of animal menace always to be detected when
+the German herd is gratified and expresses pleasure en masse.
+
+But she wouldn't stay, wouldn't return. Like one of those beautiful
+Persian cats, she had lingered long enough to arouse delight. Then she
+went, deaf to recall, to persuasion, to caress--indifferent to praise,
+to blandishment, to entreaty. Cat and dancer were similar; Nihla, like
+the Persian puss, knew when she had had enough. That was sufficient
+for her: nothing could stop her, nothing lure her to return.
+
+Beads of sweat were glistening upon the heavy features of the Count
+d'Eblis. Von-der-Goltz Pasha, strolling near, did him the honour to
+remember him, but d'Eblis seemed dazed and unresponsive; and the old
+Pasha understood, perhaps, when he caught the beady and expressive
+eyes of Ferez fixed on him in exultation.
+
+"Whose is she?" demanded d'Eblis abruptly. His voice was hoarse and
+evidently out of control, for he spoke too loudly to please Ferez, who
+took him by the arm and led him out to the moonlit terrace.
+
+"Mon pauvere ami," he said soothingly, "she is actually the propertee
+of nobodee at present. Cyril, they say, is following her--quite ready
+for anything--marriage----"
+
+"What!"
+
+Ferez shrugged:
+
+"That is the gosseep. No doubt som' man of wealth, more acceptable to
+her----"
+
+"I wish to meet her!" said d'Eblis.
+
+"Ah! That is, of course, not easee----"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Ferez laughed:
+
+"Ask yo'self the question again! Excellenz and his guests have gone
+quite mad ovaire Nihla----"
+
+"I care nothing for them," retorted d'Eblis thickly; "I wish to know
+her.... I wish to know her!... _Do you understand?_"
+
+After a silence, Ferez turned in the moonlight and looked at the Count
+d'Eblis.
+
+"And your newspapaire--_Le Mot d'Ordre_?"
+
+"Yes.... If you get her for me."
+
+"You sell to me for two million francs the control stock in _Le Mot
+d'Ordre_?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"An' the two million, eh?"
+
+"I shall use my influence with Gerhardt. That is all I can do. If your
+Emperor chooses to decorate him--something--the Red Eagle, third
+class, perhaps----"
+
+"I attend to those," smiled Ferez. "Hit's ver' fonny, d'Eblis, how I
+am thinking about those Red Eagles all time since I know Gerhardt. I
+spik to Von-der-Goltz de votre part, si vous le voulez? Oui?
+Alors----"
+
+"Ask her to supper aboard the yacht."
+
+"God knows----"
+
+The Count d'Eblis said through closed teeth:
+
+"There is the first woman I ever really wanted in all my life!... I am
+standing here now waiting for her--waiting to be presented to her
+now."
+
+"I spik to Von-der-Goltz Pasha," said Ferez; and he slipped through
+the palms and orange trees and vanished.
+
+For half an hour the Count d'Eblis stood there, motionless in the
+moonlight.
+
+She came about that time, on the arm of Ferez Bey, her father's friend
+of many years.
+
+And Ferez left her there in the creamy Turkish moonlight on the
+flowering terrace, alone with the Count d'Eblis.
+
+When Ferez came again, long after midnight, with Excellenz on one arm
+and the proud and happy Adolf Gerhardt on the other, the whole cycle
+of a little drama had been played to a conclusion between those two
+shadowy figures under the flowering almonds on the terrace--between
+this slender, dark-eyed girl and this big, bulky, heavy-visaged man of
+the world.
+
+And the man had been beaten and the girl had laid down every term. And
+the compact was this: that she was to be launched in Paris; she was
+merely to borrow any sum needed, with privilege to acquit the debt
+within the year; that, if she ever came to care for this man
+sufficiently, she was to become only one species of masculine
+property--a legal wife.
+
+And to every condition--and finally even to the last, the man had
+bowed his heavy, burning head.
+
+"D'Eblis!" began Gerhardt, almost stammering in his joy and pride.
+"His highness tells me that I am to have an order--an Imperial
+d-decoration----"
+
+D'Eblis stared at him out of unseeing eyes; Nihla laughed outright,
+alas, too early wise and not even troubling her lovely head to wonder
+why a decoration had been asked for this burly, bushy-bearded man from
+nowhere.
+
+But within his sinuous, twisted soul Ferez writhed exultingly, and
+patted Gerhardt on the arm, and patted d'Eblis, too--dared even to
+squirm visibly closer to Excellenz, like a fawning dog that fears too
+much to venture contact in his wriggling demonstrations.
+
+"You take with you our pretty wonder-child to Paris to be launched, I
+hear," remarked Excellenz, most affably, to d'Eblis. And to Nihla:
+"And upon a yacht fit for an emperor, I understand. Ach! Such a going
+forth is only heard of in the Arabian Nights. Eh bien, ma petite, go
+West, conquer, and reign! It is a prophecy!"
+
+And Nihla threw back her head and laughed her full-throated laughter
+under the Turkish moon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later, Ferez, walking with the Ambassador, replied humbly to the curt
+question:
+
+"Yes, I have become his jackal. But always at the orders of
+Excellenz."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later still, aboard the _Mirage_, Ferez stood alone by the after-rail,
+staring with ratty eyes at the blackness beyond the New Bridge.
+
+"Oh, God, be merciful!" he whispered. He had often said it on the
+eve of crime. Even an Eurasian rat has emotions. And Ferez had
+been in love with Nihla many years, and was selling her now at a
+price--selling her and Adolf Gerhardt and the Count d'Eblis and
+France--all he had to barter--for he had sold his soul too long
+ago to remember even what he got for it.
+
+The silence seemed more intense for the sounds that made it audible.
+From, the unlighted cities on the seven hills came an unbroken howling
+of dogs; transparent waves of the limpid Bosphorus slapped the
+vessel's sides, making a mellow and ceaseless clatter. Far away beyond
+Galata Quay, in the inner reek of unseen Stamboul, the notes of a
+Turkish flute stole out across the darkness, where some Tzigane--some
+unseen wretch in rags--was playing the melancholy song of Mourad. And,
+mournfully responsive to the reedy complaint of a homeless wanderer
+from a nation without a home, the homeless dogs of Islam wailed their
+miserere under the Prophet's moon.
+
+The tragic wolf-song wavered from hill to hill; from the Fields of the
+Dead to the Seven Towers, from Kassim to Tophane, seeming to swell
+into one dreadful, endless plaint:
+
+"My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"
+
+"And me!" muttered Ferez, shivering in the windy vapours from the
+Black Sea, which already dampened his face with their creeping summer
+chill.
+
+"Ferez!"
+
+He turned slowly. Swathed in a white wool bernous, Nihla stood there
+in the foggy moonlight.
+
+"Why?" she enquired, without preliminaries and with the unfeigned
+curiosity of a child.
+
+He did not pretend to misunderstand her in French:
+
+"Thou knowest, Nihla. I have never touched thy heart. I could do
+nothing for thee----"
+
+"Except to sell me," she smiled, interrupting him in English, without
+the slightest trace of accent.
+
+But Ferez preferred the refuge of French:
+
+"Except to launch thee and make possible thy career," he corrected her
+very gently.
+
+"I thought you were in love with me?"
+
+"I have loved thee, Nihla, since thy childhood."
+
+"Is there anything on earth or in paradise, Ferez, that you would not
+sell for a price?"
+
+"I tell thee----"
+
+"Zut! I know thee, Ferez!" she mocked him, slipping easily into
+French. "What was my price? Who pays thee, Colonel Ferez? This big,
+shambling, world-wearied Count, who is, nevertheless, afraid of me?
+Did he pay thee? Or was it this rich American, Gerhardt? Or was it
+Von-der-Goltz? Or Excellenz?"
+
+"Nihla! Thou knowest me----"
+
+Her clear, untroubled laughter checked him:
+
+"I know you, Ferez. That is why I ask. That is why I shall have no
+reply from you. Only my wits can ever answer me any questions."
+
+She stood laughing at him, swathed in her white wool, looming like
+some mocking spectre in the misty moonlight of the after-deck.
+
+"Oh, Ferez," she said in her sweet, malicious voice, "there was a
+curse on Midas, too! You play at high finance; you sell what you never
+had to sell, and you are paid for it. All your life you have been busy
+selling, re-selling, bargaining, betraying, seeking always gain where
+only loss is possible--loss of all that justifies a man in daring to
+stand alive before the God that made him!... And yet--that which you
+call love--that shadowy emotion which you have also sold to-night--I
+think you really feel for me.... Yes, I believe it.... But it, too,
+has its price.... _What_ was that price, Ferez?"
+
+"Believe me, Nihla----"
+
+"Oh, Ferez, you ask too much! No! Let _me_ tell _you_, then. The price
+was paid by that American, who is not one but a German."
+
+"That is absurd!"
+
+"Why the Red Eagle, then? And the friendship of Excellenz? What is
+he then, this Gerhardt, but a millionaire? Why is nobility so
+gracious then? What does Gerhardt give for his Red Eagle?--for the
+politeness of Excellenz?--for the crooked smile of a Bavarian
+Baroness and the lifted lorgnette of Austria? What does he give for
+_me_? Who buys me after all? Enver? Talaat? Hilmi? Who sells me?
+Excellenz? Von-der-Goltz? You? And who pays for me? Gerhardt, who
+takes his profit in Red Eagles and offers me to d'Eblis for
+something in exchange to please Excellenz--and you? And what, at the
+end of the bargaining, does d'Eblis pay for me--pay through Gerhardt
+to you, and through you to Excellenz, and through Excellenz to the
+Kaiser Wilhelm II----"
+
+Ferez, showing his teeth, came close to her and spoke very softly:
+
+"See how white is the moonlight off Seraglio Point, my Nihla!... It is
+no whiter than those loveliest ones who lie fathoms deep below these
+little silver waves.... Each with her bowstring snug about her snowy
+neck.... As fair and young, as warm and fresh and sweet as thou, my
+Nihla."
+
+He smiled at her; and if the smile stiffened an instant on her lips,
+the next instant her light, dauntless laughter mocked him.
+
+"For a price," she said, "you would sell even Life to that old miser,
+Death! Then listen what you have done, little smiling, whining jackal
+of his Excellency! I go to Paris and to my career, certain of my happy
+destiny, sure of myself! For my opportunity I pay if I choose--pay
+_what_ I choose--when and where it suits me to pay!----"
+
+She slipped into French with a little laugh:
+
+"Now go and lick thy fingers of whatever crumbs have stuck there. The
+Count d'Eblis is doubtless licking his. Good appetite, my Ferez! Lick
+away lustily, for God does not temper the jackal's appetite to his
+opportunities!"
+
+Ferez let his level gaze rest on her in silence.
+
+"Well, trafficker in Eagles, dealer in love, vendor of youth, merchant
+of souls, what strikes you silent?"
+
+But he was thinking of something sharper than her tongue and less
+subtle, which one day might strike her silent if she laughed too much
+at Fate.
+
+And, thinking, he showed his teeth again in that noiseless snicker
+which was his smile and laughter too.
+
+The girl regarded him for a moment, then deliberately mimicked his
+smile:
+
+"The dogs of Stamboul laugh that way, too," she said, baring her
+pretty teeth. "What amuses you? Did the silly old Von-der-Goltz Pasha
+promise you, also, a dish of Eagle?--old Von-der-Goltz with his
+spectacles an inch thick and nothing living within what he carries
+about on his two doddering old legs! There's a German!--who died
+twenty years ago and still walks like a damned man--jingling his iron
+crosses and mumbling his gums! Is it a resurrection from 1870 come to
+foretell another war? And why are these Prussian vultures gathering
+here in Stamboul? Can you tell me, Ferez?--these Prussians in Turkish
+uniforms! Is there anything dying or dead here, that these buzzards
+appear from the sky and alight? Why do they crowd and huddle in a
+circle around Constantinople? Is there something dead in Persia? Is
+the Bagdad railroad dying? Is Enver Bey at his last gasp? Is Talaat?
+Or perhaps the savoury odour comes from the Yildiz----"
+
+"Nihla! Is there nothing sacred--nothing thou fearest on earth?"
+
+"Only old age--and thy smile, my Ferez. Neither agrees with me." She
+stretched her arms lazily.
+
+"Allons," she said, stifling a pleasant yawn with one slim hand,"--my
+maid will wake below and miss me; and then the dogs of Stamboul yonder
+will hear a solo such as they never heard before.... Tell me, Ferez,
+do you know when we are to weigh anchor?"
+
+"At sunrise."
+
+"It is the same to me,"--she yawned again--"my maid is aboard and all
+my luggage. And my Ferez, also.... Mon dieu! And what will Cyril have
+to say when he arrives to find me vanished! It is, perhaps, well for
+us that we shall be at sea!"
+
+Her quick laughter pealed; she turned with a careless gesture of
+salute, friendly and contemptuous; and her white bernous faded away in
+the moonlit fog.
+
+And Ferez Bey stood staring after her out of his near-set, beady eyes,
+loving her, desiring her, fearing her, unrepentant that he had sold
+her, wondering whether the day might dawn when he would find it best
+to kill her for the prosperity and peace of mind of the only living
+being in whose service he never tired--himself.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+A SHADOW DANCE
+
+
+Three years later Destiny still wore a rosy face for Nihla Quellen.
+And, for a young American of whom Nihla had never even heard, Destiny
+still remained the laughing jade he had always known, beckoning him
+ever nearer, with the coquettish promise of her curved forefinger, to
+fame and wealth immeasurable.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seated now on a moonlit lawn, before his sketching easel, this
+optimistic young man, whose name was Barres, continued to observe the
+movements of a dim white figure which had emerged from the villa
+opposite, and was now stealing toward him across the dew-drenched
+grass.
+
+When the white figure was quite near it halted, holding up filmy
+skirts and peering intently at him.
+
+"May one look?" she inquired, in that now celebrated voice of hers,
+through which ever seemed to sound a hint of hidden laughter.
+
+"Certainly," he replied, rising from his folding camp stool.
+
+She tiptoed over the wet grass, came up beside him, gazed down at the
+canvas on his easel.
+
+"Can you really see to paint? Is the moon bright enough?" she asked.
+
+"Yes. But one has to be familiar with one's palette."
+
+"Oh. You seem to know yours quite perfectly, monsieur."
+
+"Enough to mix colours properly."
+
+"I didn't realise that painters ever actually painted pictures by
+moonlight."
+
+"It's a sort of hit or miss business, but the notes made are
+interesting," he explained.
+
+"What do you do with these moonlight studies?"
+
+"Use them as notes in the studio when a moonlight picture is to be
+painted."
+
+"Are you then a realist, monsieur?"
+
+"As much of a realist as anybody with imagination can be," he replied,
+smiling at her charming, moonlit face.
+
+"I understand. Realism is merely honesty plus the imagination of the
+individual."
+
+"A delightful _mot_, madam----"
+
+"Mademoiselle," she corrected him demurely. "Are you English?"
+
+"American."
+
+"Oh. Then may I venture to converse with you in English?" She said it
+in exquisite English, entirely without accent.
+
+"You _are_ English!" he exclaimed under his breath.
+
+"No ... I don't know what I am.... Isn't it charming out here? What
+particular view are you painting?"
+
+"The Seine, yonder."
+
+She bent daintily over his sketch, holding up the skirts of her
+ball-gown.
+
+"Your sketch isn't very far advanced, is it?" she inquired seriously.
+
+"Not very," he smiled.
+
+They stood there together in silence for a while, looking out over
+the moonlit river to the misty, tree-covered heights.
+
+Through lighted rows of open windows in the elaborate little villa
+across the lawn came lively music and the distant noise of animated
+voices.
+
+"Do you know," he ventured smilingly, "that your skirts and slippers
+are soaking wet?"
+
+"I don't care. Isn't this June night heavenly?"
+
+She glanced across at the lighted house. "It's so hot and noisy in
+there; one dances only with discomfort. A distaste for it all sent me
+out on the terrace. Then I walked on the lawn. Then I beheld you!...
+Am I interrupting your work, monsieur? I suppose I am." She looked up
+at him naively.
+
+He said something polite. An odd sense of having seen her somewhere
+possessed him now. From the distant house came the noisy American
+music of a two-step. With charming grace, still inspecting him out of
+her dark eyes, the girl began to move her pretty feet in rhythm with
+the music.
+
+"Shall we?" she inquired mischievously.... "Unless you are too
+busy----"
+
+The next moment they were dancing together there on the wet lawn,
+under the high lustre of the moon, her fresh young face and fragrant
+figure close to his.
+
+During their second dance she said serenely:
+
+"They'll raise the dickens if I stay here any longer. Do you know the
+Comte d'Eblis?"
+
+"The Senator? The numismatist?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No, I don't know him. I am only a Latin Quarter student."
+
+"Well, he is giving that party. He is giving it for me--in my honour.
+That is his villa. And I"--she laughed--"am going to marry
+him--_perhaps_! Isn't this a delightful escapade of mine?"
+
+"Isn't it rather an indiscreet one?" he asked smilingly.
+
+"Frightfully. But I like it. How did you happen to pitch your easel on
+his lawn?"
+
+"The river and the hills--their composition appealed to me from here.
+It is the best view of the Seine."
+
+"Are you glad you came?"
+
+They both laughed at the mischievous question.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During their third dance she became a little apprehensive and kept
+looking over her shoulder toward the house.
+
+"There's a man expected there," she whispered, "Ferez Bey. He's as
+soft-footed as a cat and he always prowls in my vicinity. At times it
+almost seems to me as though he were slyly watching me--as though he
+were employed to keep an eye on me."
+
+"A Turk?"
+
+"Eurasian.... I wonder what they think of my absence? Alexandre--the
+Comte d'Eblis--won't like it."
+
+"Had you better go?"
+
+"Yes; I ought to, but I won't.... Wait a moment!" She disengaged
+herself from his arms. "Hide your easel and colour-box in the
+shrubbery, in case anybody comes to look for me."
+
+She helped him strap up and fasten the telescope-easel; they placed
+the paraphernalia behind the blossoming screen of syringa. Then,
+coming together, she gave herself to him again, nestling between his
+arms with a little laugh; and they fell into step once more with the
+distant dance-music. Over the grass their united shadows glided,
+swaying, gracefully interlocked--moon-born phantoms which dogged
+their light young feet....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A man came out on the stone terrace under the Chinese lanterns. When
+they saw him they hastily backed into the obscurity of the shrubbery.
+
+"Nihla!" he called, and his heavy voice was vibrant with irritation
+and impatience.
+
+He was a big man. He walked with a bulky, awkward gait--a few paces
+only, out across the terrace.
+
+"Nihla!" he bawled hoarsely.
+
+Then two other men and a woman appeared on the terrace where the
+lanterns were strung. The woman called aloud in the darkness:
+
+"Nihla! Nihla! Where are you, little devil?" Then she and the two men
+with her went indoors, laughing and skylarking, leaving the bulky man
+there alone.
+
+The young fellow in the shrubbery felt the girl's hand tighten on his
+coat sleeve, felt her slender body quiver with stifled laughter. The
+desire to laugh seized him, too; and they clung there together,
+choking back their mirth while the big man who had first appeared
+waddled out across the lawn toward the shrubbery, shouting:
+
+"Nihla! Where are you then?" He came quite close to where they stood,
+then turned, shouted once or twice and presently disappeared across
+the lawn toward a walled garden. Later, several other people came out
+on the terrace, calling, "Nihla, Nihla," and then went indoors,
+laughing boisterously.
+
+The young fellow and the girl beside him were now quite weak and
+trembling with suppressed mirth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They had not dared venture out on the lawn, although dance music had
+begun again.
+
+"Is it your name they called?" he asked, his eyes very intent upon her
+face.
+
+"Yes, Nihla."
+
+"I recognise you now," he said, with a little thrill of wonder.
+
+"I suppose so," she replied with amiable indifference. "Everybody
+knows me."
+
+She did not ask his name; he did not offer to enlighten her. What
+difference, after all, could the name of an American student make to
+the idol of Europe, Nihla Quellen?
+
+"I'm in a mess," she remarked presently. "He will be quite furious
+with me. It is going to be most disagreeable for me to go back into
+that house. He has really an atrocious temper when made ridiculous."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry," he said, sobered by her seriousness.
+
+She laughed:
+
+"Oh, pouf! I really don't care. But perhaps you had better leave me
+now. I've spoiled your moonlight picture, haven't I?"
+
+"But think what you have given me to make amends!" he replied.
+
+She turned and caught his hands in hers with adorable impulsiveness:
+
+"You're a sweet boy--do you know it! We've had a heavenly time,
+haven't we? Do you really think you ought to go--so soon?"
+
+"Don't you think so, Nihla?"
+
+"I don't want you to go. Anyway, there's a train every two hours----"
+
+"I've a canoe down by the landing. I shall paddle back as I came----"
+
+"A canoe!" she exclaimed, enchanted. "Will you take me with you?"
+
+"To Paris?"
+
+"Of course! Will you?"
+
+"In your ball-gown?"
+
+"I'd adore it! Will you?"
+
+"That is an absolutely crazy suggestion," he said.
+
+"I know it. The world is only a big asylum. There's a path to the
+river behind these bushes. Quick--pick up your painting traps----"
+
+"But, Nihla, dear----"
+
+"Oh, please! I'm dying to run away with you!"
+
+"To Paris?" he demanded, still incredulous that the girl really meant
+it.
+
+"Of course! You can get a taxi at the Pont-au-Change and take me home.
+Will you?"
+
+"It would be wonderful, of course----"
+
+"It will be paradise!" she exclaimed, slipping her hand into his.
+"Now, let us run like the dickens!"
+
+In the uncertain moonlight, filtering through the shrubbery, they
+found a hidden path to the river; and they took it together, lightly,
+swiftly, speeding down the slope, all breathless with laughter, along
+the moonlit way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the suburban villa of the Comte d'Eblis a wine-flushed and very
+noisy company danced on, supped at midnight, continued the revel into
+the starlit morning hours. The place was a jungle of confetti.
+
+Their host, restless, mortified, angry, perplexed by turns, was
+becoming obsessed at length with dull premonitions and vaguer alarms.
+
+He waddled out to the lawn several times, still wearing his fancy gilt
+and tissue cap, and called:
+
+"Nihla! Damnation! Answer me, you little fool!"
+
+He went down to the river, where the gaily painted row-boats and punts
+lay, and scanned the silvered flood, tortured by indefinite
+apprehensions. About dawn he started toward the weed-grown, slippery
+river-stairs for the last time, still crowned with his tinsel cap; and
+there in the darkness he found his aged boat-man, fishing for gudgeon
+with a four-cornered net suspended to the end of a bamboo pole.
+
+"Have you see anything of Mademoiselle Nihla?" he demanded, in a
+heavy, unsteady voice, tremulous with indefinable fears.
+
+"Monsieur le Comte, Mademoiselle Quellen went out in a canoe with a
+young gentleman."
+
+"W-what is that you tell me!" faltered the Comte d'Eblis, turning grey
+in the face.
+
+"Last night, about ten o'clock, M'sieu le Comte. I was out in the
+moonlight fishing for eels. She came down to the shore--took a canoe
+yonder by the willows. The young man had a double-bladed paddle. They
+were singing."
+
+"They--they have not returned?"
+
+"No, M'sieu le Comte----"
+
+"Who was the--man?"
+
+"I could not see----"
+
+"Very well." He turned and looked down the dusky river out of
+light-coloured, murderous eyes. Then, always awkward in his gait, he
+retraced his steps to the house. There a servant accosted him on the
+terrace:
+
+"The telephone, if Monsieur le Comte pleases----"
+
+"Who is calling?" he demanded with a flare of fury.
+
+"Paris, if it pleases Monsieur le Comte."
+
+The Count d'Eblis went to his own quarters, seated himself, and picked
+up the receiver:
+
+"Who is it?" he asked thickly.
+
+"Max Freund."
+
+"What has h-happened?" he stammered in sudden terror.
+
+Over the wire came the distant reply, perfectly clear and distinct:
+
+"Ferez Bey was arrested in his own house at dinner last evening, and
+was immediately conducted to the frontier, escorted by Government
+detectives.... Is Nihla with you?"
+
+The Count's teeth were chattering now. He managed to say:
+
+"No, I don't know where she is. She was dancing. Then, all at once,
+she was gone. Of what was Colonel Ferez suspected?"
+
+"I don't know. But perhaps we might guess."
+
+"Are _you_ followed?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"By--by whom?"
+
+"By Souchez.... Good-bye, if I don't see you. I join Ferez. And look
+out for Nihla. She'll trick you yet!"
+
+The Count d'Eblis called:
+
+"Wait, for God's sake, Max!"--listened; called again in vain. "The
+one-eyed rabbit!" he panted, breathing hard and irregularly. His large
+hand shook as he replaced the instrument. He sat there as though
+paralysed, for a moment or two. Mechanically he removed his tinsel cap
+and thrust it into the pocket of his evening coat. Suddenly the dull
+hue of anger dyed neck, ears and temple:
+
+"By God!" he gasped. "What is that she-devil trying to do to me? What
+has she _done_!"
+
+After another moment of staring fixedly at nothing, he opened the
+table drawer, picked up a pistol and poked it into his breast pocket.
+
+Then he rose, heavily, and stood looking out of the window at the
+paling east, his pendulous under lip aquiver.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+SUNRISE
+
+
+The first sunbeams had already gilded her bedroom windows, barring the
+drawn curtains with light, when the man arrived. He was still wearing
+his disordered evening dress under a light overcoat; his soiled shirt
+front was still crossed by the red ribbon of watered silk; third class
+orders striped his breast, where also the brand new Turkish sunburst
+glimmered.
+
+A sleepy maid in night attire answered his furious ringing; the man
+pushed her aside with an oath and strode into the semi-darkness of the
+corridor. He was nearly six feet tall, bulky; but his legs were either
+too short or something else was the matter with them, for when he
+walked he waddled, breathing noisily from the ascent of the stairs.
+
+"Is your mistress here?" he demanded, hoarse with his effort.
+
+"Y--yes, monsieur----"
+
+"When did she come in?" And, as the scared and bewildered maid
+hesitated: "Damn you, answer me! When did Mademoiselle Quellen come
+in? I'll wring your neck if you lie to me!"
+
+The maid began to whimper:
+
+"Monsieur le Comte--I do not wish to lie to you.... Mademoiselle Nihla
+came back with the dawn----"
+
+"Alone?"
+
+The maid wrung her hands:
+
+"Does Monsieur le Comte m-mean to harm her?"
+
+"Will you answer me, you snivelling cat!" he panted between his big,
+discoloured teeth. He had fished out a pistol from his breast pocket,
+dragging with it a silk handkerchief, a fancy cap of tissue and gilt,
+and some streamers of confetti which fell to the carpet around his
+feet.
+
+"Now," he breathed in a half-strangled voice, "answer my questions.
+Was she alone when she came in?"
+
+"N-no."
+
+"Who was with her?"
+
+"A--a----"
+
+"A man?"
+
+The maid trembled violently and nodded.
+
+"What man?"
+
+"M-Monsieur le Comte, I have never before beheld him----"
+
+"You lie!"
+
+"I do not lie! I have never before seen him, Monsieur le----"
+
+"Did you learn his name?"
+
+"No----"
+
+"Did you hear what they said?"
+
+"They spoke in English----"
+
+"What!" The man's puffy face went flabby white, and his big, badly
+made frame seemed to sag for a moment. He laid a large fat hand flat
+against the wall, as though to support and steady himself, and gazed
+dully at the terrified maid.
+
+And she, shivering in her night-robe and naked feet, stared back into
+the pallid face, with its coarse, greyish moustache and little short
+side-whiskers which vulgarized it completely--gazed in unfeigned
+terror at the sagging, deadly, lead-coloured eyes.
+
+"Is the man there--in there now--with her?" demanded the Comte d'Eblis
+heavily.
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+"Gone?"
+
+"Oh, Monsieur le Comte, the young man stayed but a moment----"
+
+"Where were they? In her bedroom?"
+
+"In the salon. I--I served a pate--a glass of wine--and the young
+gentleman was gone the next minute----"
+
+A dull red discoloured the neck and features of the Count.
+
+"That's enough," he said; and waddled past her along the corridor to
+the furthest door; and wrenched it open with one powerful jerk.
+
+In the still, golden gloom of the drawn curtains, now striped with
+sunlight, a young girl suddenly sat up in bed.
+
+"Alexandre!" she exclaimed in angry astonishment.
+
+"You slut!" he said, already enraged again at the mere sight of her.
+"Where did you go last night!"
+
+"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she demanded, confused but flushed
+with anger. "Leave it! Do you hear!--" She caught sight of the pistol
+in his hand and stiffened.
+
+He stepped nearer; her dark, dilated gaze remained fixed on the
+pistol.
+
+"Answer me," he said, the menacing roar rising in his voice. "Where
+did you go last night when you left the house?"
+
+"I--I went out--on the lawn."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I had had enough of your party: I came back to Paris."
+
+"And _then_?"
+
+"I came here, of course."
+
+"Who was with you?"
+
+Then, for the first time, she began to comprehend. She swallowed
+desperately.
+
+"Who was your companion?" he repeated.
+
+"A--man."
+
+"You brought him here?"
+
+"He--came in--for a moment."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"I--never before saw him."
+
+"You picked up a man in the street and brought him here with you?"
+
+"N-not on the street----"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"On the lawn--while your guests were dancing----"
+
+"And you came to Paris with him?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"I don't know----"
+
+"If you don't name him, I'll kill you!" he yelled, losing the last
+vestige of self-control. "What kind of story are you trying to tell
+me, you lying drab! You've got a lover! Confess it!"
+
+"I have not!"
+
+"Liar! So this is how you've laughed at me, mocked me, betrayed me,
+made a fool of me! You!--with your fierce little snappish ways of a
+virgin! You with your dangerous airs of a tiger-cat if a man so much
+as laid a finger on your vicious body! So Mademoiselle-Don't-touch-me
+had a lover all the while. Max Freund warned me to keep an eye on
+you!" He lost control of himself again; his voice became a hoarse
+shout: "Max Freund begged me not to trust you! You filthy little
+beast! Good God! Was I crazy to believe in you--to talk without
+reserve in your presence! What kind of imbecile was I to offer you
+marriage because I was crazy enough to believe that there was no other
+way to possess you! You--a Levantine dancing girl--a common painted
+thing of the public footlights--a creature of brasserie and cabaret!
+And you posed as Mademoiselle Nitouche! A novice! A devotee of
+chastity! And, by God, your devilish ingenuity at last persuaded me
+that you actually were what you said you were. And all Paris knew you
+were fooling me--all Paris was laughing in its dirty sleeve--mocking
+me--spitting on me----"
+
+"All Paris," she said, in an unsteady voice, "gave you credit for
+being my lover. And I endured it. And you knew it was not true. Yet
+you never denied it.... But as for me, I never had a lover. When I
+told you that I told you the truth. And it is true to-day as it was
+yesterday. Nobody believes it of a dancing girl. Now, _you_ no longer
+believe it. Very well, there is no occasion for melodrama. I tried to
+fall in love with you: I couldn't. I did not desire to marry you. You
+insisted. Very well; you can go."
+
+"Not before I learn the name of your lover of last night!" he
+retorted, now almost beside himself with fury, and once more menacing
+her with his pistol. "I'll get that much change out of all the money
+I've lavished on you!" he yelled. "Tell me his name or I'll kill
+you!"
+
+She reached under her pillow, clutched a jewelled watch and purse, and
+hurled them at him. She twisted from her arm a gemmed bracelet, tore
+every flashing ring from her fingers, and flung them in a handful
+straight at his head.
+
+"There's some more change for you!" she panted. "Now, leave my
+bedroom!"
+
+"I'll have that man's name first!"
+
+The girl laughed in his distorted face. He was within an ace of
+shooting her--of firing point-blank into the lovely, flushed features,
+merely to shatter them, destroy, annihilate. He had the desire to do
+it. But her breathless, contemptuous laugh broke that impulse--relaxed
+it, leaving it flaccid. And after an interval something else
+intervened to stay his hand at the trigger--something that crept into
+his mind; something he had begun to suspect that she knew. Suddenly he
+became convinced that she _did_ know it--that she believed that he
+dared not kill her and stand the investigation of a public trial
+before a _juge d'instruction_--that he could not afford to have his
+own personal affairs scrutinised too closely.
+
+He still wanted to kill her--shoot her there where she sat in bed,
+watching him out of scornful young eyes. So intense was his need to
+slay--to disfigure, brutalise this girl who had mocked him, that the
+raging desire hurt him physically. He leaned back, resting against the
+silken wall, momentarily weakened by the violence of passion. But his
+pistol still threatened her.
+
+No; he dared not. There was a better, surer way to utterly destroy
+her,--a way he had long ago prepared,--not expecting any such
+contingency as this, but merely as a matter of self-insurance.
+
+His levelled weapon wavered, dropped, held loosely now. He still
+glared at her out of pallid and blood-shot eyes in silence. After a
+while:
+
+"You hell-cat," he said slowly and distinctly. "Who is your English
+lover? Tell me his name or I'll beat your face to a pulp!"
+
+"I have no English lover."
+
+"Do you think," he went on heavily, disregarding her reply, "that I
+don't know why you chose an Englishman? You thought you could
+blackmail me, didn't you?"
+
+"How?" she demanded wearily.
+
+Again he ignored her reply:
+
+"Is he one of the Embassy?" he demanded. "Is he some emissary of
+Grey's? Does he come from their intelligence department? Or is he only
+a police jackal? Or some lesser rat?"
+
+She shrugged; her night-robe slipped and she drew it over her shoulder
+with a quick movement. And the man saw the deep blush spreading over
+face and throat.
+
+"By God!" he said, "you _are_ an actress! I admit it. But now you are
+going to learn something about real life. You think you've got me,
+don't you?--you and your Englishman? Because I have been fool enough
+to trust you--hide nothing from you--act frankly and openly in your
+presence. You thought you'd get a hold on me, so that if I ever caught
+you at your treacherous game you could defy me and extort from me the
+last penny! You thought all that out--very thriftily and cleverly--you
+and your Englishman between you--didn't you?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Don't you? Then why did you ask me the other day whether it was not
+German money which was paying for the newspaper which I bought?"
+
+"The _Mot d'Ordre_?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I asked you that because Ferez Bey is notoriously in Germany's pay.
+And Ferez Bey financed the affair. You said so. Besides, you and he
+discussed it before me in my own salon."
+
+"And you suspected that I bought the _Mot d'Ordre_ with German money
+for the purpose of carrying out German propaganda in a Paris daily
+paper?"
+
+"I don't know why Ferez Bey gave you the money to buy it."
+
+"He did not give me the money."
+
+"You said so. Who did?"
+
+"_You!_" he fairly yelled.
+
+"W-what!" stammered the girl, confounded.
+
+"Listen to me, you rat!" he said fiercely. "I was not such a fool as
+you believed me to be. I lavished money on you; you made a fortune for
+yourself out of your popularity, too. Do you remember endorsing a
+cheque drawn to your order by Ferez Bey?"
+
+"Yes. You had borrowed every penny I possessed. You said that Ferez
+Bey owed you as much. So I accepted his cheque----"
+
+"That cheque paid for the _Mot d'Ordre_. It is drawn to your order;
+it bears your endorsement; the _Mot d'Ordre_ was purchased in your
+name. And it was Max Freund who insisted that I take that precaution.
+Now, try to blackmail me!--you and your English spy!" he cried
+triumphantly, his voice breaking into a squeak.
+
+Not yet understanding, merely conscious of some vague and monstrous
+danger, the girl sat motionless, regarding him intently out of
+beautiful, intelligent eyes.
+
+He burst into laughter, made falsetto by the hysteria of sheer
+hatred:
+
+"That's where you are now!" he said, leering down at her. "Every paper
+I ever made you sign incriminates you; your cancelled cheque is in the
+same packet; your _dossier_ is damning and complete. You didn't know
+that Ferez Bey was sent across the frontier yesterday, did you? Your
+English spy didn't inform you last night, did he?"
+
+"N-no."
+
+"You lie! You _did_ know it! That was why you stole away last night
+and met your jackal--to sell him something besides yourself, this
+time! You knew they had arrested Ferez! I don't know how you knew it,
+but you did. And you told your lover. And both of you thought you had
+me at last, didn't you?"
+
+"I--what are you trying to say to me--do to me?" she stammered, losing
+colour for the first time.
+
+"Put you where you belong--you dirty spy!" he said with grinning
+ferocity. "If there is to be trouble, I've prepared for it. When they
+try you for espionage, they'll try you as a foreigner--a dancing girl
+in the pay of Germany--as my mistress whom Max Freund and I discover
+in treachery to France, and whom I instantly denounce to the proper
+authorities!"
+
+He shoved his pistol into his breast pocket and put on his marred silk
+hat.
+
+"Which do you think they will believe--you or the Count d'Eblis?" he
+demanded, the nervous leer twitching at his heavy lips. "Which do you
+think they will believe--your denials and counter-accusations against
+me, or Max Freund's corroboration, and the evidence of the packet I
+shall now deliver to the authorities--the packet containing every
+cursed document necessary to convict you!--you filthy little----"
+
+The girl bounded from her bed to the floor, her dark eyes blazing:
+
+"Damn you!" she said. "Get out of my bedroom!"
+
+Taken aback, he retreated a pace or two, and, at the furious menace of
+the little clenched fist, stepped another pace out into the corridor.
+The door crashed in his face; the bolt shot home.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In twenty minutes Nihla Quellen, the celebrated and adored of European
+capitals, crept out of the street door. She wore the dress of a
+Finistere peasant; her hair was grey, her step infirm.
+
+The _commissaire_, two _agents de police_, and a Government detective,
+one Souchez, already on their way to identify and arrest her, never
+even glanced at the shabby, infirm figure which hobbled past them on
+the sidewalk and feebly mounted an omnibus marked Gare du Nord.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a long time Paris was carefully combed for the dancer, Nihla
+Quellen, until more serious affairs occupied the authorities, and
+presently the world at large. For, in a few weeks, war burst like a
+clap of thunder over Europe, leaving the whole world stunned and
+reeling. The dossier of Nihla Quellen, the dancing girl, was tossed
+into secret archives, together with the dossier of one Ferez Bey, an
+Eurasian, now far beyond French jurisdiction, and already very
+industrious in the United States about God knows what, in company with
+one Max Freund.
+
+As for Monsieur the Count d'Eblis, he remained a senator, an owner of
+many third-rate decorations, and of the _Mot d'Ordre_.
+
+And he remained on excellent terms with everybody at the Swedish,
+Greek, and Bulgarian legations, and the Turkish Embassy, too. And
+continued in cipher communication with Max Freund and Ferez Bey in
+America.
+
+Otherwise, he was still president of the Numismatic Society of Spain,
+and he continued to add to his wonderful collection of coins, and to
+keep up his voluminous numismatic correspondence.
+
+He was growing stouter, too, which increased his spinal waddle when he
+walked; and he became very prosperous financially, through fortunate
+"operations," as he explained, with one Bolo Pasha.
+
+He had only one regret to interfere with his sleep and his digestion;
+he was sorry he had not fired his pistol into the youthful face of
+Nihla Quellen. He should have avenged himself, taken his chances, and
+above everything else he should have destroyed her beauty. His
+timidity and caution still caused him deep and bitter chagrin.
+
+For nearly a year he heard absolutely nothing concerning her. Then one
+day a letter arrived from Ferez Bey through Max Freund, both being in
+New York. And when, using his key to the cipher, he extracted the
+message it contained, he had learned, among other things, that Nihla
+Quellen was in New York, employed as a teacher in a school for
+dancing.
+
+The gist of his reply to Ferez Bey was that Nihla Quellen had already
+outlived her usefulness on earth, and that Max Freund should attend to
+the matter at the first favourable opportunity.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+SUNSET
+
+
+On the edge of evening she came out of the Palace of Mirrors and
+crossed the wet asphalt, which already reflected primrose lights from
+a clearing western sky.
+
+A few moments before, he had been thinking of her, never dreaming that
+she was in America. But he knew her instantly, there amid the rush and
+clatter of the street, recognised her even in the twilight of the
+passing storm--perhaps not alone from the half-caught glimpse of her
+shadowy, averted face, nor even from that young, lissome figure so
+celebrated in Europe. There is a sixth sense--the sense of nearness to
+what is familiar. When it awakes we call it premonition.
+
+The shock of seeing her, the moment's exciting incredulity, passed
+before he became aware that he was already following her through
+swarming metropolitan throngs released from the toil of a long, wet
+day in early spring.
+
+Through every twilit avenue poured the crowds; through every
+cross-street a rosy glory from the west was streaming; and in its
+magic he saw her immortally transfigured, where the pink light
+suffused the crossings, only to put on again her lovely mortality in
+the shadowy avenue.
+
+At Times Square she turned west, straight into the dazzling fire of
+sunset, and he at her slender heels, not knowing why, not even asking
+it of himself, not thinking, not caring.
+
+A third figure followed them both.
+
+The bronze giants south of them stirred, swung their great hammers
+against the iron bell; strokes of the hour rang out above the din of
+Herald Square, inaudible in the traffic roar another square away,
+lost, drowned out long before the pleasant bell-notes penetrated to
+Forty-second Street, into which they both had turned.
+
+Yet, as though occultly conscious that some hour had struck on earth,
+significant to her, she stopped, turned, and looked back--looked quite
+through him, seeing neither him nor the one-eyed man who followed them
+both--as though her line of vision were the East itself, where, across
+the grey sea's peril, a thousand miles of cannon were sounding the
+hour from the North Sea to the Alps.
+
+He passed her at her very elbow--aware of her nearness, as though
+suddenly close to a young orchard in April. The girl, too, resumed her
+way, unconscious of him, of his youthful face set hard with controlled
+emotion.
+
+The one-eyed man followed them both.
+
+A few steps further and she turned into the entrance to one of those
+sprawling, pretentious restaurants, the sham magnificence of which
+becomes grimy overnight. He halted, swung around, retraced his steps
+and followed her. And at his heels two shapes followed them very
+silently--her shadow and his own--so close together now, against the
+stucco wall that they seemed like Destiny and Fate linked arm in arm.
+
+The one-eyed man halted at the door for a few moments. Then he, too,
+went in, dogged by his sinister shadow.
+
+The red sunset's rays penetrated to the rotunda and were quenched
+there in a flood of artificial light; and there their sun-born
+shadows vanished, and three strange new shadows, twisted and
+grotesque, took their places.
+
+She continued on into the almost empty restaurant, looming dimly
+beyond. He followed; the one-eyed man followed both.
+
+The place into which they stepped was circular, centred by a waterfall
+splashing over concrete rocks. In the ruffled pool goldfish glimmered,
+nearly motionless, and mandarin ducks floated, preening exotic
+plumage.
+
+A wilderness of tables surrounded the pool, set for the expected
+patronage of the coming evening. The girl seated herself at one of
+these.
+
+At the next table he found a place for himself, entirely unnoticed by
+her. The one-eyed man took the table behind them. A waiter presented
+himself to take her order; another waiter came up leisurely to attend
+to him. A third served the one-eyed man. There were only a few inches
+between the three tables. Yet the girl, deeply preoccupied, paid no
+attention to either man, although both kept their eyes on her.
+
+But already, under the younger man's spellbound eyes, an odd and
+unforeseen thing was occurring: he gradually became aware that, almost
+imperceptibly, the girl and the table where she sat, and the sleepy
+waiter who was taking her orders, were slowly moving nearer to him on
+a floor which was moving, too.
+
+He had never before been in that particular restaurant, and it took
+him a moment or two to realise that the floor was one of those trick
+floors, the central part of which slowly revolves.
+
+Her table stood on the revolving part of the floor, his upon fixed
+terrain; and he now beheld her moving toward him, as the circle of
+tables rotated on its axis, which was the waterfall and pool in the
+middle of the restaurant.
+
+A few people began to arrive--theatrical people, who are obliged to
+dine early. Some took seats at tables placed upon the revolving
+section of the floor, others preferred the outer circles, where he sat
+in a fixed position.
+
+Her table was already abreast of his, with only the circular crack in
+the floor between them; he could easily have touched her.
+
+As the distance began to widen between them, the girl, her gloved
+hands clasped in her lap, and studying the table-cloth with unseeing
+gaze, lifted her dark eyes--looked at him without seeing, and once
+more gazed through him at something invisible upon which her thoughts
+remained fixed--something absorbing, vital, perhaps tragic--for her
+face had become as colourless, now, as one of those translucent
+marbles, vaguely warmed by some buried vein of rose beneath the snowy
+surface.
+
+Slowly she was being swept away from him--his gaze following--hers
+lost in concentrated abstraction.
+
+He saw her slipping away, disappearing behind the noisy waterfall.
+Around him the restaurant continued to fill, slowly at first, then
+more rapidly after the orchestra had entered its marble gallery.
+
+The music began with something Russian, plaintive at first, then
+beguiling, then noisy, savage in its brutal precision--something
+sinister--a trampling melody that was turning into thunder with the
+throb of doom all through it. And out of the vicious, Asiatic
+clangour, from behind the dash of too obvious waterfalls, glided the
+girl he had followed, now on her way toward him again, still seated at
+her table, still gazing at nothing out of dark, unseeing eyes.
+
+It seemed to him an hour before her table approached his own again.
+Already she had been served by a waiter--was eating.
+
+He became aware, then, that somebody had also served him. But he could
+not even pretend to eat, so preoccupied was he by her approach.
+
+Scarcely seeming to move at all, the revolving floor was steadily
+drawing her table closer and closer to his. She was not looking at the
+strawberries which she was leisurely eating--did not lift her eyes as
+her table swept smoothly abreast of his.
+
+Scarcely aware that he spoke aloud, he said:
+
+"Nihla--Nihla Quellen!..."
+
+Like a flash the girl wheeled in her chair to face him. She had lost
+all her colour. Her fork had dropped and a blood-red berry rolled over
+the table-cloth toward him.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said, flushing. "I did not mean to startle you----"
+
+The girl did not utter a word, nor did she move; but in her dark eyes
+he seemed to see her every sense concentrated upon him to identify his
+features, made shadowy by the lighted candles behind his head.
+
+By degrees, smoothly, silently, her table swept nearer, nearer,
+bringing with it her chair, her slender person, her dark, intelligent
+eyes, so unsmilingly and steadily intent on him.
+
+He began to stammer:
+
+"--Two years ago--at--the Villa Tresse d'Or--on the Seine.... And we
+promised to see each other--in the morning----"
+
+She said coolly:
+
+"My name is Thessalie Dunois. You mistake me for another."
+
+"No," he said, in a low voice, "I am not mistaken."
+
+Her brown eyes seemed to plunge their clear regard into the depths of
+his very soul--not in recognition, but in watchful, dangerous
+defiance.
+
+He began again, still stammering a trifle:
+
+"--In the morning, we were to--to meet--at eleven--near the fountain
+of Marie de Medicis--unless you do not care to remember----"
+
+At that her gaze altered swiftly, melted into the exquisite relief of
+recognition. Suspended breath, released, parted her blanched lips; her
+little guardian heart, relieved of fear, beat more freely.
+
+"Are you Garry?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I know you now," she murmured. "You are Garret Barres, of the rue
+d'Eryx.... You _are_ Garry!" A smile already haunted her dark young
+eyes; colour was returning to lip and cheek. She drew a deep,
+noiseless breath.
+
+The table where she sat continued to slip past him; the distance
+between them was widening. She had to turn her head a little to face
+him.
+
+"You do remember me then, Nihla?"
+
+The girl inclined her head a trifle. A smile curved her lips--lips now
+vivid but still a little tremulous from the shock of the encounter.
+
+"May I join you at your table?"
+
+She smiled, drew a deeper breath, looked down at the strawberry on the
+cloth, looked over her shoulder at him.
+
+"You owe me an explanation," he insisted, leaning forward to span the
+increasing distance between them.
+
+"Do I?"
+
+"Ask yourself."
+
+After a moment, still studying him, she nodded as though the nod
+answered some silent question of her own:
+
+"Yes, I owe you one."
+
+"Then may I join you?"
+
+"My table is more prudent than I. It is running away from an
+explanation." She fixed her eyes on her tightly clasped hands, as
+though to concentrate thought. He could see only the back of her head,
+white neck and lovely dark hair.
+
+Her table was quite a distance away when she turned, leisurely, and
+looked back at him.
+
+"May I come?" he asked.
+
+She lifted her delicate brows in demure surprise.
+
+"I've been waiting for you," she said, amiably.
+
+The one-eyed man had never taken his eyes off them.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+DUSK
+
+
+She had offered him her hand; he had bent over it, seated himself, and
+they smilingly exchanged the formal banalities of a pleasantly renewed
+acquaintance.
+
+A waiter laid a cover for him. She continued to concern herself,
+leisurely, with her strawberries.
+
+"When did you leave Paris?" she enquired.
+
+"Nearly two years ago."
+
+"Before war was declared?"
+
+"Yes, in June of that year."
+
+She looked up at him very seriously; but they both smiled as she
+said:
+
+"It was a momentous month for you then--the month of June, 1914?"
+
+"Very. A charming young girl broke my heart in 1914; and so I came
+home, a wreck--to recuperate."
+
+At that she laughed outright, glancing at his youthful, sunburnt face
+and lean, vigorous figure.
+
+"When did _you_ come over?" he asked curiously.
+
+"I have been here longer than you have. In fact, I left France the day
+I last saw you."
+
+"The same day?"
+
+"I started that very same day--shortly after sunrise. I crossed the
+Belgian frontier that night, and I sailed for New York the morning
+after. I landed here a week later, and I've been here ever since.
+That, monsieur, is my history."
+
+"You've been here in New York for two years!" he repeated in
+astonishment. "Have you really left the stage then? I supposed you had
+just arrived to fill an engagement here."
+
+"They gave me a try-out this afternoon."
+
+"_You?_ A try-out!" he exclaimed, amazed.
+
+She carelessly transfixed a berry with her fork:
+
+"If I secure an engagement I shall be very glad to fill it ... and my
+stomach, also. If I don't secure one--well--charity or starvation
+confronts me."
+
+He smiled at her with easy incredulity.
+
+"I had not heard that you were here!" he repeated. "I've read nothing
+at all about you in the papers----"
+
+"No ... I am here incognito.... I have taken my sister's name. After
+all, your American public does not know me."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Wait! I don't wish it to know me!"
+
+"But if you----"
+
+The girl's slight gesture checked him, although her smile became
+humorous and friendly:
+
+"Please! We need not discuss my future. Only the past!" She laughed:
+"How it all comes back to me now, as you speak--that crazy evening of
+ours together! What children we were--two years ago!"
+
+Smilingly she clasped her hands together on the table's edge,
+regarding him with that winning directness which was a celebrated part
+of her celebrated personality; and happened to be natural to her.
+
+"Why did I not recognise you immediately?" she demanded of herself,
+frowning in self-reproof. "I _am_ stupid! Also I have, now and then,
+thought about you----" She shrugged her shoulders, and again her face
+faltered subtly:
+
+"Much has happened to distract my memories," she added carelessly,
+impaling a strawberry, "--since you and I took the key to the fields
+and the road to the moon--like the pair of irresponsibles we were that
+night in June."
+
+"Have you really had trouble?"
+
+Her slim figure straightened as at a challenge, then became adorably
+supple again; and she rested her elbows on the table's edge and took
+her cheeks between her hands.
+
+"Trouble?" she repeated, studying his face. "I don't know that word,
+trouble. I don't admit such a word to the honour of my happy
+vocabulary."
+
+They both laughed a little.
+
+She said, still looking at him, and at first speaking as though to
+herself:
+
+"Of course, you are that same, delightful Garry! My youthful American
+accomplice!... Quite unspoiled, still, but very, very irresponsible
+... like all painters--like all students. And the mischief which is in
+me recognised the mischief in you, I suppose.... I _did_ surprise you
+that night, didn't I?... And what a night! What a moon! And how we
+danced there on the wet lawn until my skirts and slippers and
+stockings were drenched with dew!... And how we laughed! Oh, that
+full-hearted, full-throated laughter of ours! How wonderful that we
+have lived to laugh like that! It is something to remember after
+death. Just think of it!--you and I, absolute strangers, dancing every
+dance there in the drenched grass to the music that came through the
+open windows.... And do you remember how we hid in the flowering
+bushes when my sister and the others came out to look for me? How they
+called, 'Nihla! Nihla! Little devil, where are you?' Oh, it was
+funny--funny! And to see _him_ come out on the lawn--do you remember?
+He looked so fat and stupid and anxious and bad-tempered! And you and
+I expiring with stifled laughter! And he, with his sash, his
+decorations and his academic palms! He'd have shot us both, you
+know...."
+
+They were laughing unrestrainedly now at the memory of that impossible
+night a year ago; and the girl seemed suddenly transformed into an
+irresponsible gamine of eighteen. Her eyes grew brighter with mischief
+and laughter--laughter, the greatest magician and doctor emeritus of
+them all! The immortal restorer of youth and beauty.
+
+Bluish shadows had gone from under her lower lashes; her eyes were
+starry as a child's.
+
+"Oh, Garry," she gasped, laying one slim hand across his on the
+table-cloth, "it was one of those encounters--one of those heavenly
+accidents that reconcile one to living.... I think the moon had made
+me a perfect lunatic.... Because you don't yet know what I risked....
+Garry!... It ruined me--ruined me utterly--our night together under
+the June moon!"
+
+"What!" he exclaimed, incredulously.
+
+But she only laughed her gay, undaunted little laugh:
+
+"It was worth it! Such moments are worth anything we pay for them! I
+laughed; I pay. What of it?"
+
+"But if I am partly responsible I wish to know----"
+
+"You shall know nothing about it! As for me, I care nothing about it.
+I'd do it again to-night! That is living--to go forward, laugh, and
+accept what comes--to have heart enough, gaiety enough, brains enough
+to seize the few rare dispensations that the niggardly gods fling
+across this calvary which we call life! _Tenez_, that alone is living;
+the rest is making the endless stations on bleeding knees."
+
+"Yet, if I thought--" he began, perplexed and troubled, "--if I
+thought that through my folly----"
+
+"Folly! _Non pas!_ Wisdom! Oh, my blessed accomplice! And do you
+remember the canoe? Were we indeed quite mad to embark for Paris on
+the moonlit Seine, you and I?--I in evening gown, soaked with dew to
+the knees!--you with your sketching block and easel! _Quelle
+demenagement en famille!_ Oh, Garry, my friend of gayer days, was that
+really folly! No, no, no, it was infinite wisdom; and its memory is
+helping me to live through this very moment!"
+
+She leaned there on her elbows and laughed across the cloth at him.
+The mockery began to dance again and glimmer in her eyes:
+
+"After all I've told you," she added, "you are no wiser, are you?
+You don't know why I never went to the Fountain of Marie de
+Medicis--whether I forgot to go--whether I remembered but decided that
+I had had quite enough of you. You don't know, do you?"
+
+He shook his head, smiling. The girl's face grew gradually serious:
+
+"And you never heard anything more about me?" she demanded.
+
+"No. Your name simply disappeared from the billboards, kiosques, and
+newspapers."
+
+"And you heard no malicious gossip? None about my sister, either?"
+
+"None."
+
+She nodded:
+
+"Europe is a senile creature which forgets overnight. _Tant mieux_....
+You know, I shall sing and dance under my sister's name here. I told
+you that, didn't I?"
+
+"Oh! That would be a great mistake----"
+
+"Listen! Nihla Quellen disappeared--married some fat bourgeois, died,
+perhaps,"--she shrugged,--"anything you wish, my friend. Who cares to
+listen to what is said about a dancing girl in all this din of war?
+Who is interested?"
+
+It was scarcely a question, yet her eyes seemed to make it so.
+
+"Who cares?" she repeated impatiently. "Who remembers?"
+
+"I have remembered you," he said, meeting her intently questioning
+gaze.
+
+"You? Oh, you are not like those others over there. Your country is
+not at war. You still have leisure to remember. But they forget. They
+haven't time to remember anything--anybody--over there. Don't you
+think so?" She turned in her chair unconsciously, and gazed eastward.
+"--They have forgotten me over there--" And her lips tightened,
+contracted, bitten into silence.
+
+The strange beauty of the girl left him dumb. He was recalling, now,
+all that he had ever heard concerning her. The gossip of Europe had
+informed him that, though Nihla Quellen was passionately and devotedly
+French in soul and heart, her mother had been one of those unmoral and
+lovely Georgians, and her father an Alsatian, named Dunois--a French
+officer who entered the Russian service ultimately, and became a
+hunting cheetah for the Grand Duke Cyril, until himself hunted into
+another world by that old bag of bones on the pale and shaky nag. His
+daughter took the name of Nihla Quellen and what money was left, and
+made her debut in Constantinople.
+
+As the young fellow sat there watching her, all the petty gossip of
+Europe came back to him--anecdotes, panegyrics, eulogies, scandals,
+stage chatter, Quarter "divers," paid reclames--all that he had ever
+read and heard about this notorious young girl, now seated there
+across the table, with her pretty head framed by slender, unjewelled
+fingers. He remembered the gems she had worn that June night, a year
+ago, and their magnificence.
+
+"Well," she said, "life is a pleasantry, a jest, a bon-mot flung over
+his shoulder by some god too drunk with nectar to invent a better
+joke. Life is an Olympian epigram made between immortal yawns. What do
+you think of _my_ epigram, Garry?"
+
+"I think you are just as clever and amusing as I remember you,
+Nihla."
+
+"Amusing to _you_, perhaps. But I don't entertain myself very
+successfully. I don't think poverty is a very funny joke. Do you?"
+
+"Poverty!" he repeated, smiling his unbelief.
+
+She smiled too, displayed her pretty, ringless hands humorously, for
+his inspection, then framed her oval face between them again and made
+a deliberate grimace.
+
+"All gone," she said. "I am, as you say, here on my uppers."
+
+"I can't understand, Nihla----"
+
+"Don't try to. It doesn't concern you. Also, please forget me as Nihla
+Quellen. I told you that I've taken my sister's name, Thessalie
+Dunois."
+
+"But all Europe knows you as Nihla Quellen----"
+
+"Listen!" she interrupted sharply. "I have troubles enough. Don't add
+to them, or I shall be sorry I met you again. I tell you my name is
+Thessa. Please remember it."
+
+"Very well," he said, reddening under the rebuke.
+
+She noted the painful colour in his face, then looked elsewhere,
+indifferently. Her features remained expressionless for a while. After
+a few moments she looked around at him again, and her smile began to
+glimmer:
+
+"It's only this," she said; "the girl you met once in your life--the
+dancing singing-girl they knew over there--is already an episode to be
+forgotten. End her career any way you wish, Garry,--natural death,
+suicide--or she can repent and take the veil, if you like--or perish
+at sea--only end her.... Please?" she added, with the sweet, trailing
+inflection characteristic of her.
+
+He nodded. The girl smiled mischievously.
+
+"Don't nod your head so owlishly and pretend to understand. You don't
+understand. Only two or three people do. And I hope they'll believe me
+dead, even if you are not polite enough to agree with them."
+
+"How can you expect to maintain your incognito?" he insisted. "There
+will be plenty of people in your very first audience----"
+
+"I had a sister, did I not?"
+
+"_Was_ she your sister?--the one who danced with you--the one called
+Thessa?"
+
+"No. But the play-bills said she was. Now, I've told you something
+that nobody knows except two or three unpleasant devils--" She dropped
+her arms on the table and leaned a trifle forward:
+
+"Oh, pouf!" she said. "Don't let's be mysterious and dramatic, you and
+I. I'll tell you: I gave that woman the last of my jewels and she
+promised to disappear and leave her name to me to use. It was my own
+name, anyway, Thessalie Dunois. Now, you know. Be as discreet and nice
+as I once found you. Will you?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"'Of course,'" she repeated, smiling, and with a little twitch of her
+shoulders, as though letting fall a burdensome cloak. "Allons! With a
+free heart, then! I am Thessalie Dunois; I am here; I am poor--don't
+be frightened! I shall not borrow----"
+
+"That's rotten, Thessa!" he said, turning very red.
+
+"Oh, go lightly, please, my friend Garry. I have no claim on you.
+Besides, I know men----"
+
+"You don't appear to!"
+
+"Tiens! Our first quarrel!" she exclaimed, laughingly. "This is indeed
+serious----"
+
+"If you need aid----"
+
+"No, I don't! Please, why do you scowl at me? Do you then wish I
+needed aid? Yours? Allez, Monsieur Garry, if I did I'd venture,
+perhaps, to say so to you. Does that make amends?" she added sweetly.
+
+She clasped her white hands on the cloth and looked at him with that
+engaging, humorous little air which had so easily captivated her
+audiences in Europe--that, and her voice with the hint of recklessness
+ever echoing through its sweetness and youthful gaiety.
+
+"What are you doing in New York?" she asked. "Painting?"
+
+"I have a studio, but----"
+
+"But no clients? Is that it? Pouf! Everybody begins that way. I sang
+in a cafe at Dijon for five francs and my soup! At Rennes I nearly
+starved. Oh, yes, Garry, in spite of a number of obliging gentlemen
+who, like you, offered--first aid----"
+
+"That is absolutely rotten of you, Thessa. Did I ever----"
+
+"No! For goodness' sake let me jest with you without flying into
+tempers!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Oh, pouf! I shall not quarrel with you! Whatever you and I were going
+to say during the next ten minutes shall remain unsaid!... Now, the
+ten minutes are over; now, we're reconciled and you are in good humour
+again. And now, tell me about yourself, your painting--in other
+words, tell me the things about yourself that would interest a
+friend."
+
+"Are you?"
+
+"Your friend? Yes, I am--if you wish."
+
+"I do wish it."
+
+"Then I am your friend. I once had a wonderful evening with you....
+I'm having a very good time now. You were _nice_ to me, Garry. I
+really was sorry not to see you again."
+
+"At the fountain of Marie de Medicis," he said reproachfully.
+
+"Yes. Flatter yourself, monsieur, because I did _not_ forget our
+rendezvous. I might have forgotten it easily enough--there was
+sufficient excuse, God knows--a girl awakened by the crash of
+ruin--springing out of bed to face the end of the world without a
+moment's warning--yes, the end of all things--death, too! Tenez, it
+was permissible to forget our rendezvous under such circumstances, was
+it not? But--I did _not_ forget. I thought about it in a dumb, calm
+way all the while--even while _he_ stood there denouncing me,
+threatening me, noisy, furious--with the button of the Legion in his
+lapel--and an ugly pistol which he waved in the air--" She laughed:
+
+"Oh, it was not at all gay, I assure you.... And even when I took to
+my heels after he had gone--for it was a matter of life or death, and
+I hadn't a minute to lose--oh, very dramatic, of course, for I ran
+away in disguise and I had a frightful time of it leaving France!
+Well, even then, at top speed and scared to death, I remembered the
+fountain of Marie de Medicis, and you. Don't be too deeply flattered.
+I remembered these items principally because they had caused my
+downfall."
+
+"I? I caused----"
+
+"No. _I_ caused it! It was I who went out on the lawn. It was I who
+came across to see who was painting by moonlight. That began
+it--seeing you there--in moonlight bright enough to read by--bright
+enough to paint by. Oh, Garry--and you were _so_ good-looking! It was
+the moon--and the way you smiled at me. And they all were dancing
+inside, and _he_ was so big and fat and complacent, dancing away in
+there!... And so I fell a prey to folly."
+
+"Was it really our escapade that--that ruined you?"
+
+"Well--it was partly that. Pouf! It is over. And I am here. So are
+you. It's been nice to see you.... Please call our waiter." She
+glanced at her cheap, leather wrist watch.
+
+As they rose and left the dining-room, he asked her if they were not
+to see each other again. A one-eyed man, close behind them, listened
+for her reply.
+
+She continued to walk on slowly beside him without answering, until
+they reached the rotunda.
+
+"Do you wish to see me again?" she enquired abruptly.
+
+"Don't you also wish it?"
+
+"I don't know, Garry.... I've been annoyed in New
+York--bothered--seriously.... I can't explain, but somehow--I don't
+seem to wish to begin a friendship with anybody...."
+
+"Ours began two years ago."
+
+"Did it?"
+
+"Did it not, Thessa?"
+
+"Perhaps.... I don't know. After all--it doesn't matter. I think--I
+think we had better say good-bye--until some happy hazard--like
+to-day's encounter--" She hesitated, looked up at him, laughed:
+
+"Where is your studio?" she asked mischievously.
+
+The one-eyed man at their heels was listening.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+IN DRAGON COURT
+
+
+There was a young moon in the southwest--a slender tracery in the
+April twilight--curved high over his right shoulder as he walked
+northward and homeward through the flare of Broadway.
+
+His thoughts were still occupied with the pleasant excitement of his
+encounter with Thessalie Dunois; his mind and heart still responded to
+the delightful stimulation. Out of an already half-forgotten realm of
+romance, where, often now, he found it increasingly difficult to
+realise that he had lived for five happy years, a young girl had
+suddenly emerged as bodily witness, to corroborate, revive, and
+refresh his fading faith in the reality of what once had been.
+
+Five years in France!--France with its clear sun and lovely moon; its
+silver-grey cities, its lilac haze, its sweet, deep greenness, its
+atmosphere of living light!--France, the dwelling-place of God in all
+His myriad aspects--in all His protean forms! France, the sanctuary of
+Truth and all her ancient and her future liberties; France, blossoming
+domain of Love in Love's million exquisite transfigurations, wherein
+only the eye of faith can recognise the winged god amid his
+camouflage!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wine-strong winds of the Western World, and a pitiless Western sun
+which etches every contour with terrible precision, leaving nothing to
+imagination--no delicate mystery to rest and shelter souls--had swept
+away and partly erased from his mind the actuality of those five past
+years.
+
+Already that past, of which he had been a part, was becoming
+disturbingly unreal to him. Phantoms haunted its ever-paling sunlight;
+its scenes were fading; its voices grew vague and distant; its hushed
+laughter dwindled to a whisper, dying like a sigh.
+
+Then, suddenly, against that misty tapestry of tinted spectres,
+appeared Thessalie Dunois in the flesh!--straight out of the
+phantom-haunted void had stepped this glowing thing of life! Into the
+raw reek and familiar dissonance of Broadway she had vanished. Small
+wonder that he had followed her to keep in touch with the vanishing
+past, as a sleeper, waking against his will, strives still to grasp
+the fragile fabric of a happy dream.
+
+Yet, in spite of Thessalie, in spite of dreams, in spite of his own
+home-coming, and the touch of familiar pavements under his own feet,
+the past, to Barres, was utterly dead, the present strange and unreal,
+the future obscure and all aflame behind a world afire with war.
+
+For two years, now, no human mind in America had been able to adjust
+itself to the new heaven and the new earth which had sprung into lurid
+being at the thunderclap of war.
+
+All things familiar had changed in the twinkling of an eye; all former
+things had passed away, leaving the stunned brain of humanity dulled
+under the shock.
+
+Slowly, by degrees, the world was beginning to realise that the
+civilisation of Christ was being menaced once again by a resurgence
+from that ancient land of legend where the wild Hun denned;--that
+again the endless hordes of barbarians were rushing in on Europe out
+of their Eastern fastnesses--hordes which filled the shrinking skies
+with their clamour, vaunting the might of Baal, cheering their
+antichrist, drenching the knees of their own red gods with the blood
+of little children.
+
+It seemed impossible for Americans to understand that these things
+could be--were really true--that the horrors the papers printed were
+actualities happening to civilised people like themselves and their
+neighbours.
+
+Out of their own mouths the German tribes thundered their own disgrace
+and condemnation, yet America sat dazed, incredulous, motionless.
+Emperor and general, professor and junker, shouted at the top of their
+lungs the new creed, horrible as the Black Mass, reversing every
+precept taught by Christ.
+
+Millions of Teuton mouths cheered fiercely for the new
+religion--Frightfulness; worshipped with frantic yells the new
+trinity--Wotan, Kaiser and Brute Strength.
+
+Stunned, blinded, deafened, the Western World, still half-paralysed,
+stirred stiffly from its inertia. Slowly, mechanically, its arteries
+resumed their functions; the reflex, operating automatically, started
+trade again in its old channels; old habits were timidly resumed;
+minds groped backward, searching for severed threads which connected
+yesterday with to-day--groped, hunted, found nothing, and, perplexed,
+turned slowly toward the smoke-choked future for some reason for it
+all--some outlook.
+
+There was no explanation, no outlook--nothing save dust and flame and
+the din of Teutonic hordes trampling to death the Son of Man.
+
+So America moved about her worn, deep-trodden and familiar ways, her
+mind slowly clearing from the cataclysmic concussion, her power of
+vision gradually returning, adjusting itself, little by little, to
+this new heaven and new earth and this hell entirely new.
+
+The _Lusitania_ went down; the Great Republic merely quivered. Other
+ships followed; only a low murmur of pain came from the Western
+Colossus.
+
+But now, after the second year, through the thickening nightmare the
+Great Republic groaned aloud; and a new note of menace sounded in her
+drugged and dreary voice.
+
+And the thick ears of the Hun twitched and he paused, squatting
+belly-deep in blood, to listen.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres walked homeward. Somewhere along in the 40's he turned eastward
+into one of those cross-streets originally built up of brownstone
+dwelling houses, and now in process of transformation into that
+architectural and commercial miscellany which marks the transition
+stage of the metropolis anywhere from Westchester to the sea.
+
+Altered for business purposes, basements displayed signs and
+merchandise of bootmakers, dealers in oriental porcelains, rare
+prints, silverware; parlour windows modified into bay windows, sheeted
+with plate-glass, exposed, perhaps, feminine headgear, or an expensive
+model gown or two, or the sign of a real-estate man, or of an
+upholsterer.
+
+Above the parlour floors lived people of one sort or another;
+furnished and unfurnished rooms and suites prevailed; and the
+brownstone monotony was already indented along the building line by
+brand-new constructions of Indiana limestone, behind the glittering
+plate-glass of which were to be seen reticent displays of artistic
+furniture, modern and antique oil paintings, here and there the
+lace-curtained den of some superior ladies' hair-dresser, where
+beautifying also was accomplished at a price, alas!
+
+Halfway between Sixth Avenue and Fifth, on the north side of the
+street, an enterprising architect had purchased half a dozen squatty,
+three-storied houses, set back from the sidewalk behind grass-plots.
+These had been lavishly stuccoed and transformed into abodes for those
+irregulars in the army of life known as "artists."
+
+In the rear the back fences had been levelled; six corresponding
+houses on the next street had been purchased; a sort of inner court
+established, with a common grass-plot planted with trees and
+embellished by a number of concrete works of art, battered statues,
+sundials, and well-curbs.
+
+Always the army of civilisation trudges along screened, flanked, and
+tagged after by life's irregulars, who cannot or will not conform to
+routine. And these are always roaming around seeking their own
+cantonments, where, for a while, they seem content to dwell at the end
+of one more aimless etape through the world--not in regulation
+barracks, but in regions too unconventional, too inconvenient to
+attract others.
+
+Of this sort was the collection of squatty houses, forming a
+"community," where, in the neighbourhood of other irregulars, Garret
+Barres dwelt; and into the lighted entrance of which he now turned,
+still exhilarated by his meeting with Thessalie Dunois.
+
+The architectural agglomeration was known as Dragon Court--a faience
+Fu-dog above the electric light over the green entrance door
+furnishing that priceless idea--a Fu-dog now veiled by mesh-wire to
+provide against the indiscretions of sparrows lured thither by
+housekeeping possibilities lurking among the dense screens of Japanese
+ivy covering the facade.
+
+Larry Soane, the irresponsible superintendent, always turned gardener
+with April's advent in Dragon Court, contributions from its denizens
+enabling him to pepper a few flower-beds with hyacinths and tulips,
+and later with geraniums. These former bulbs had now gratefully
+appeared in promising thickets, and Barres saw the dark form of the
+handsome, reckless-looking Irishman fussing over them in the
+lantern-lit dusk, while his little daughter, Dulcie, kneeling on the
+dim grass, caressed the first blue hyacinth blossom with thin,
+childish fingers.
+
+Barres glanced into his letter-box behind the desk, above which a
+drop-light threw more shadows than illumination. Little Dulcie Soane
+was supposed to sit under it and emit information, deliver and receive
+letters, pay charges on packages, and generally supervise things when
+she was not attending school.
+
+There were no letters for the young man. He examined a package, found
+it contained his collars from the laundry, tucked them under his left
+arm, and walked to the door looking out upon the dusky interior
+court.
+
+"Soane," he said, "your garden begins to look very fine." He nodded
+pleasantly to Dulcie, and the child responded to his friendly greeting
+with the tired but dauntless smile of the young who are missing those
+golden years to which all childhood has a claim.
+
+Dulcie's three cats came strolling out of the dusk across the lamplit
+grass--a coal black one with sea-green eyes, known as "The Prophet,"
+and his platonic mate, white as snow, and with magnificent azure-blue
+eyes which, in white cats, usually betokens total deafness. She was
+known as "The Houri" to the irregulars of Dragon Court. The third cat,
+unanimously but misleadingly christened "Strindberg" by the dwellers
+in Dragon Court, has already crooked her tortoise-shell tail and was
+tearing around in eccentric circles or darting halfway up trees in a
+manner characteristic, and, possibly accounting for the name, if not
+for the sex.
+
+"Thim cats of the kid's," observed Soane, "do be scratchin' up the
+plants all night long--bad cess to thim! Barrin' thim three omadhauns
+yonder, I'd show ye a purty bed o' poisies, Misther Barres. But
+Sthrin'berg, God help her, is f'r diggin' through to China."
+
+Dulcie impulsively caressed the Prophet, who turned his solemn,
+incandescent eyes on Barres. The Houri also looked at him, then,
+intoxicated by the soft spring evening, rolled lithely upon the new
+grass and lay there twitching her snowy tail and challenging the stars
+out of eyes that matched their brilliance.
+
+Dulcie got up and walked slowly across the grass to where Barres
+stood:
+
+"May I come to see you this evening?" she asked, diffidently, and with
+a swift, sidelong glance toward her father.
+
+"Ah, then, don't be worritin' him!" grumbled Soane. "Hasn't Misther
+Barres enough to do, what with all thim idees he has slitherin' in his
+head, an' all the books an' learnin' an' picters he has to think
+of--whithout the likes of you at his heels every blessed minute, day
+an' night!----"
+
+"But he always lets me--" she remonstrated.
+
+"G'wan, now, and lave the poor gentleman be! Quit your futtherin' an'
+muttherin'. G'wan in the house, ye little scut, an' see what there is
+f'r ye to do!----"
+
+"What's the matter with you, Soane?" interrupted Barres good-humouredly.
+"Of course she can come up if she wants to. Do you feel like paying me
+a visit, Dulcie, before you go to bed?"
+
+"Yes," she nodded diffidently.
+
+"Well, come ahead then, Sweetness! And whenever you want to come you
+say so. Your father knows well enough I like to have you."
+
+He smiled at Dulcie; the child's shy preference for his society always
+had amused him. Besides, she was always docile and obedient; and she
+was very sensitive, too, never outwearing her welcome in his studio,
+and always leaving without a murmur when, looking up from book or
+drawing he would exclaim cheerfully: "Now, Sweetness! Time's up! Bed
+for yours, little lady!"
+
+It had been a very gradual acquaintance between them--more than two
+years in developing. From his first pleasant nod to her when he first
+came to live in Dragon Court, it had progressed for a few months,
+conservatively on her part, and on his with a detached but kindly
+interest born of easy sympathy for youth and loneliness.
+
+But he had no idea of the passionate response he was stirring in the
+motherless, neglected child--of what hunger he was carelessly
+stimulating, what latent qualities and dormant characteristics he was
+arousing.
+
+Her appearance, one evening, in her night-dress at his studio doorway,
+accompanied by her three cats, began to enlighten him in regard to her
+mental starvation. Tremulous, almost at the point of tears, she had
+asked for a book and permission to remain for a few moments in the
+studio. He had rung for Selinda, ordered fruit, cake, and a glass of
+milk, and had installed Dulcie upon the sofa with a lapful of books.
+That was the beginning.
+
+But Barres still did not entirely understand what particular magnet
+drew the child to his studio. The place was full of beautiful things,
+books, rugs, pictures, fine old furniture, cabinets glimmering with
+porcelains, ivories, jades, Chinese crystals. These all, in minutest
+detail, seemed to fascinate the girl. Yet, after giving her permission
+to enter whenever she desired, often while reading or absorbed in
+other affairs, he became conscious of being watched; and, glancing up,
+would frequently surprise her sitting there very silently, with an
+open book on her knees, and her strange grey eyes intently fixed on
+him.
+
+Then he would always smile and say something friendly; and usually
+forget her the next moment in his absorption of whatever work he had
+under way.
+
+Only one other man inhabiting Dragon Court ever took the trouble to
+notice or speak to the child--James Westmore, the sculptor. And he was
+very friendly in his vigorous, jolly, rather boisterous way, catching
+her up and tossing her about as gaily and irresponsibly as though she
+were a rag doll; and always telling her he was her adopted godfather
+and would have to chastise her if she ever deserved it. Also, he was
+always urging her to hurry and grow up, because he had a wedding
+present for her. And though Dulcie's smile was friendly, and
+Westmore's nonsense pleased the shy child, she merely submitted, never
+made any advance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres's menage was accomplished by two specimens of mankind, totally
+opposite in sex and colour; Selinda, a blonde, slant-eyed, and very
+trim Finn, doing duty as maid; and Aristocrates W. Johnson, lately
+employed in the capacity of waiter on a dining-car by the New York
+Central Railroad--tall, dignified, graceful, and Ethiopian--who cooked
+as daintily as a debutante trifling with culinary duty, and served at
+table with the languid condescension of a dilettante and wealthy
+amateur of domestic arts.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres ascended the two low, easy flights of stairs and unlocked his
+door. Aristocrates, setting the table in the dining-room, approached
+gracefully and relieved his master of hat, coat, and stick.
+
+Half an hour later, a bath and fresh linen keyed up his already
+lively spirits; he whistled while he tied his tie, took a critical
+look at himself, and, dropping both hands into the pockets of his
+dinner jacket, walked out into the big studio, which also was his
+living-room.
+
+There was a piano there; he sat down and rattled off a rollicking air
+from the most recent spring production, beginning to realise that he
+was keyed up for something livelier than a solitary dinner at home.
+
+His hands fell from the keys and he swung around on the piano stool
+and looked into the dining-room rather doubtfully.
+
+"Aristocrates!" he called.
+
+The tall pullman butler sauntered gracefully in.
+
+Barres gave him a telephone number to call. Aristocrates returned
+presently with the information that the lady was not at home.
+
+"All right. Try Amsterdam 6703. Ask for Miss Souval."
+
+But Miss Souval, also, was out.
+
+Barres possessed a red-leather covered note-book; he went to his desk
+and got it; and under his direction Aristocrates called up several
+numbers, reporting adversely in every case.
+
+It was a fine evening; ladies were abroad or preparing to fulfil
+engagements wisely made on such a day as this had been. And the more
+numbers he called up the lonelier the young man began to feel.
+
+Thessalie had not given him either her address or telephone number. It
+would have been charming to have her dine with him. He was now
+thoroughly inclined for company. He glanced at the empty dining-room
+with aversion.
+
+"All right; never mind," he said, dismissing Aristocrates, who receded
+as lithely as though leading a cake-walk.
+
+"The devil," muttered the young fellow. "I'm not going to dine here
+alone. I've had too happy a day of it."
+
+He got up restlessly and began to pace the studio. He knew he could
+get some man, but he didn't want one. However, it began to look like
+that or a solitary dinner.
+
+So after a few more moments' scowling cogitation he went out and down
+the stairs, with the vague idea of inviting some brother painter--any
+one of the regular irregulars who inhabited Dragon Court.
+
+Dulcie sat behind the little desk near the door, head bowed, her thin
+hands clasped over the closed ledger, and in her pallid face the
+expressionless dullness of a child forgotten.
+
+"Hello, Sweetness!" he said cheerfully.
+
+She looked up; a slight colour tinted her cheeks, and she smiled.
+
+"What's the matter, Dulcie?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing? That's a very dreary malady--nothing. You look lonely. Are
+you?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You don't know whether you are lonely or not?" he demanded.
+
+"I suppose I am," she ventured, with a shy smile.
+
+"Where is your father?"
+
+"He went out."
+
+"Any letters for me--or messages?"
+
+"A man--he had one eye--came. He asked who you are."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I think he was German. He had only one eye. He asked your name."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I told him. Then he went away."
+
+Barres shrugged:
+
+"Somebody who wants to sell artists' materials," he concluded. Then he
+looked at the girl: "So you're lonely, are you? Where are your three
+cats? Aren't they company for you?"
+
+"Yes...."
+
+"Well, then," he said gaily, "why not give a party for them? That
+ought to amuse you, Dulcie."
+
+The child still smiled; Barres walked on past her a pace or two,
+halted, turned irresolutely, arrived at some swift decision, and came
+back, suddenly understanding that he need seek no further--that he had
+discovered his guest of the evening at his very elbow.
+
+"Did you and your father have your supper, Dulcie?"
+
+"My father went out to eat at Grogan's."
+
+"How about you?"
+
+"I can find something."
+
+"Why not dine with me?" he suggested.
+
+The child stared, bewildered, then went a little pale.
+
+"Shall we have a dinner party for two--you and I, Dulcie? What do you
+say?"
+
+She said nothing, but her big grey eyes were fixed on him in a passion
+of inquiry.
+
+"A real party," he repeated. "Let the people get their own mail and
+packages until your father returns. Nobody's going to sneak in,
+anyway. Or, if that won't do, I'll call up Grogan's and tell your
+father to come back because you are going to dine in my studio with
+me. Do you know the telephone number? Very well; get Grogan's for me.
+I'll speak to your father."
+
+Dulcie's hand trembled on the receiver as she called up Grogan's;
+Barres bent over the transmitter:
+
+"Soane, Dulcie is going to take dinner in my studio with me. You'll
+have to come back on duty, when you've eaten." He hung up, looked at
+Dulcie and laughed.
+
+"I wanted company as much as you did," he confessed. "Now, go and put
+on your prettiest frock, and we'll be very grand and magnificent. And
+afterward we'll talk and look at books and pretty things--and maybe
+we'll turn on the Victrola and I'll teach you to dance--" He had
+already begun to ascend the stairs:
+
+"In half an hour, Dulcie!" he called back; "--and you may bring the
+Prophet if you like.... Shall I ask Mr. Westmore to join us?"
+
+"I'd rather be all alone with you," she said shyly.
+
+He laughed and ran on up the stairs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In half an hour the electric bell rang very timidly. Aristocrates,
+having been instructed and rehearsed, and, loftily condescending to
+his role in a kindly comedy to be played seriously, announced: "Miss
+Soane!" in his most courtly manner.
+
+Barres threw aside the evening paper and came forward, taking both
+hands of the white and slightly frightened child.
+
+"Aristocrates ought to have announced the Prophet, too," he said
+gaily, breaking the ice and swinging Dulcie around to face the open
+door again.
+
+The Prophet entered, perfectly at ease, his eyes of living jade
+shining, his tail urbanely hoisted.
+
+Dulcie ventured to smile; Barres laughed outright; Aristocrates
+surveyed the Prophet with toleration mingled with a certain respect.
+For a black cat is never without occult significance to a gentleman of
+colour.
+
+With Dulcie's hand still in his, Barres led her into the living-room,
+where, presently, Aristocrates brought a silver tray upon which was
+a glass of iced orange juice for Dulcie, and a "Bronnix," as
+Aristocrates called it, for the master.
+
+"To your health and good fortune in life, Dulcie," he said politely.
+
+The child gazed mutely at him over her glass, then, blushing, ventured
+to taste her orange juice.
+
+When she finished, Barres drew her frail arm through his and took her
+out, seating her. Ceremonies began in silence, and the master of the
+place was not quite sure whether the flush on Dulcie's face indicated
+unhappy embarrassment or pleasure.
+
+He need not have worried: the child adored it all. The Prophet came in
+and gravely seated himself on a neighbouring chair, whence he could
+survey the table and seriously inspect each course.
+
+"Dulcie," he said, "how grown-up you look with your bobbed hair put
+up, and your fluffy gown."
+
+She lifted her enchanted eyes to him:
+
+"It is my first communion dress.... I've had to make it longer for a
+graduation dress."
+
+"Oh, that's so; you're graduating this summer!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what then?"
+
+"Nothing." She sighed unconsciously and sat very still with folded
+hands, while Aristocrates refilled her glass of water.
+
+She no longer felt embarrassed; her gravity matched Aristocrates's;
+she seriously accepted whatever was offered or set before her, but
+Barres noticed that she ate it all, merely leaving on her plate, with
+inculcated and mathematical precision, a small portion as concession
+to good manners.
+
+They had, toward the banquet's end, water ices, bon-bons, French
+pastry, and ice cream. And presently a slight and blissful sigh of
+repletion escaped the child's red lips. The symptoms were satisfactory
+but unmistakable; Dulcie was perfectly feminine; her capacity had
+proven it.
+
+The Prophet's stately self-control in the fragrant vicinity of
+nourishment was now to be rewarded: Barres conducted Dulcie to the
+studio and installed her among cushions upon a huge sofa. Then,
+lighting a cigarette, he dropped down beside her and crossed one knee
+over the other.
+
+"Dulcie," he said in his lazy, humorous way, "it's a funny old world
+any way you view it."
+
+"Do you think it is always funny?" inquired the child, her deep, grey
+eyes on his face.
+
+He smiled:
+
+"Yes, I do; but sometimes the joke in on one's self. And then,
+although it is still a funny world, from the world's point of view,
+you, of course, fail to see the humour of it.... I don't suppose you
+understand."
+
+"I do," nodded the child, with the ghost of a smile.
+
+"Really? Well, I was afraid I'd been talking nonsense, but if you
+understand, it's all right."
+
+They both laughed.
+
+"Do you want to look at some books?" he suggested.
+
+"I'd rather listen to you."
+
+He smiled:
+
+"All right. I'll begin at this corner of the room and tell you about
+the things in it." And for a while he rambled lazily on about old
+French chairs and Spanish chests, and the panels of Mille Fleur
+tapestry which hung behind them; the two lovely pre-Raphael panels in
+their exquisite ancient frames; the old Venetian velvet covering
+triple choir-stalls in the corner; the ivory-toned marble figure on
+its wood and compos pedestal, where tendrils and delicate foliations
+of water gilt had become slightly irridescent, harmonising with the
+patine on the ancient Chinese garniture flanking a mantel clock of
+dullest gold.
+
+About these things, their workmanship, the histories of their times,
+he told her in his easy, unaccented voice, glancing sideways at her
+from time to time to note how she stood it.
+
+But she listened, fascinated, her gaze moving from the object
+discussed to the man who discussed it; her slim limbs curled under
+her, her hands clasped around a silken cushion made from the robe of
+some Chinese princess.
+
+Lounging there beside her, amused, humorously flattered by her
+attention, and perhaps a little touched, he held forth a little
+longer.
+
+"Is it a nice party, so far, Dulcie?" he concluded with a smile.
+
+She flushed, found no words, nodded, and sat with lowered head as
+though pondering.
+
+"What would you rather do if you could do what you want to in the
+world, Dulcie?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Think a minute."
+
+She thought for a while.
+
+"Live with you," she said seriously.
+
+"Oh, Dulcie! That is no sort of ambition for a growing girl!" he
+laughed; and she laughed, too, watching his every expression out of
+grey eyes that were her chiefest beauty.
+
+"You're a little too young to know what you want yet," he concluded,
+still smiling. "By the time that bobbed mop of red hair grows to a
+proper length, you'll know more about yourself."
+
+"Do you like it up?" she enquired naively.
+
+"It makes you look older."
+
+"I want it to."
+
+"I suppose so," he nodded, noticing the snowy neck which the new
+coiffure revealed. It was becoming evident to him that Dulcie had her
+own vanities--little pathetic vanities which touched him as he glanced
+at the reconstructed first communion dress and the drooping hyacinth
+pinned at the waist, and the cheap white slippers on a foot as
+slenderly constructed as her long and narrow hands.
+
+"Did your mother die long ago, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In America?"
+
+"In Ireland."
+
+"You look like her, I fancy--" thinking of Soane.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Barres had heard Soane hold forth in his cups on one or two
+occasions--nothing more than the vague garrulousness of a Celt made
+more loquacious by the whiskey of one Grogan--something about his
+having been a gamekeeper in his youth, and that his wife--"God rest
+her!"--might have held up her head with "anny wan o' thim in th' Big
+House."
+
+Recollecting this, he idly wondered what the story might have been--a
+young girl's perverse infatuation for her father's gamekeeper,
+perhaps--a handsome, common, ignorant youth, reckless and irresponsible
+enough to take advantage of her--probably some such story--resembling
+similar histories of chauffeurs, riding-masters, grooms, and
+coachmen at home.
+
+The Prophet came noiselessly into the studio, stopped at sight of his
+little mistress, twitched his tail reflectively, then leaped onto a
+carved table and calmly began his ablutions.
+
+Barres got up and wound up the Victrola. Then he kicked aside a rug or
+two.
+
+"This is to be a real party, you know," he remarked. "You don't dance,
+do you?"
+
+"Yes," she said diffidently, "a little."
+
+"Oh! That's fine!" he exclaimed.
+
+Dulcie got off the sofa, shook out her reconstructed gown. When he
+came over to where she stood, she laid her hand in his almost
+solemnly, so overpowering had become the heavenly sequence of events.
+For the rite of his hospitality had indeed become a rite to her. Never
+before had she stood in awe, enthralled before such an altar as this
+man's hearthstone. Never had she dreamed that he who so wondrously
+served it could look at such an offering as hers--herself.
+
+But the miracle had happened; altar and priest were accepting her; she
+laid her hand, which trembled, in his; gave herself to his guidance
+and to the celestial music, scarcely seeing, scarcely hearing his
+voice.
+
+"You dance delightfully," he was saying; "you're a born dancer,
+Dulcie. I do it fairly well myself, and I ought to know."
+
+He was really very much surprised. He was enjoying it immensely. When
+the Victrola gave up the ghost he wound it again and came back to
+resume. Under his suggestions and tutelage, they tried more intricate
+steps, devious and ambitious, and Dulcie, unterrified by terpsichorean
+complications, surmounted every one with his whispered coaching and
+expert aid.
+
+Now it came to a point where time was not for him. He was too
+interested, enjoying it too genuinely.
+
+Sometimes, when they paused to enable him to resurrect the defunct
+music in the Victrola, they laughed at the Prophet, who sat upon the
+ancient carved table, gravely surveying them. Sometimes they rested
+because he thought she ought to--himself a trifle pumped--only to
+find, to his amazement, that he need not be solicitous concerning
+her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A tall and ancient clock ringing midnight from clear, uncompromising
+bells, brought Barres to himself.
+
+"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "this won't do! Dear child, I'm having a
+wonderful time, but I've got to deliver you to your father!"
+
+He drew her arm through his, laughingly pretending horror and haste;
+she fled lightly along beside him as he whisked her through the hall
+and down the stairs.
+
+A candle burned on the desk. Soane sat there, asleep, and odorous of
+alcohol, his flushed face buried in his arms.
+
+But Soane was what is known as a "sob-souse"; never ugly in his cups,
+merely inclined to weep over the immemorial wrongs of Ireland.
+
+He woke up when Barres touched his shoulder, rubbed his swollen eyes
+and black, curly head, gazed tragically at his daughter:
+
+"G'wan to bed, ye little scut!" he said, getting to his feet with a
+terrific yawn.
+
+Barres took her hand:
+
+"We've had a wonderful party, haven't we, Sweetness?"
+
+"Yes," whispered the child.
+
+The next instant she was gone like a ghost, through the dusky,
+whitewashed corridor where distorted shadows trembled in the
+candlelight.
+
+"Soane," said Barres, "this won't do, you know. They'll sack you if
+you keep on drinking."
+
+The man, not yet forty, a battered, middle-aged by-product of hale and
+reckless vigour, passed his hands over his temples with the dignity
+of a Hibernian Hamlet:
+
+"The harp that wanst through Tara's halls--" he began; but memory
+failed; and two tears--by-products, also, of Grogan's whiskey--sparkled
+in his reproachful eyes.
+
+"I'm merely telling you," remarked Barres. "We all like you, Soane,
+but the landlord won't stand for it."
+
+"May God forgive him," muttered Soane. "Was there ever a landlord but
+he was a tyrant, too?"
+
+Barres blew out the candle; a faint light above the Fu-dog outside,
+over the street door, illuminated the stone hall.
+
+"You ought to keep sober for your little daughter's sake," insisted
+Barres in a low voice. "You love her, don't you?"
+
+"I do that!" said Soane--"God bless her and her poor mother, who could
+hould up her pretty head with anny wan till she tuk up with th' like
+o' me!"
+
+His brogue always increased in his cups; devotion to Ireland and a
+lofty scorn of landlords grew with both.
+
+"You'd better keep away from Grogan's," remarked Barres.
+
+"I had a bite an' a sup at Grogan's. Is there anny harrm in that,
+sorr?"
+
+"Cut out the 'sup,' Larry. Cut out that gang of bums at Grogan's, too.
+There are too many Germans hanging out around Grogan's these days. You
+Sinn Feiners or Clan-na-Gael, or whatever you are, had better manage
+your own affairs, anyway. The old-time Feinans stood on their own
+sturdy legs, not on German beer-skids."
+
+"Wisha then, sorr, d'ye mind th' ould song they sang in thim days:
+
+  "_Then up steps Bonyparty
+  An' takes me by the hand,
+  And how is ould Ireland,
+  And how does she shtand?
+  It's a poor, disthressed country
+  As ever yet was seen,
+  And they're hangin' men and women
+  For the wearing of the green!_
+
+  _Oh, the wearing of the_----"
+
+"That'll do," said Barres drily. "Do you want to wake the house? Don't
+go to Grogan's and talk about Ireland to any Germans. I'll tell you
+why: we'll probably be at war with Germany ourselves within a year,
+and that's a pretty good reason for you Irish to keep clear of all
+Germans. Go to bed!"
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+DULCIE
+
+
+One warm afternoon late in spring, Dulcie Soane, returning from school
+to Dragon Court, found her father behind the desk, as usual, awaiting
+his daughter's advent, to release him from duty.
+
+A tall, bony man with hectic and sunken cheeks and only a single eye
+was standing by the desk, earnestly engaged in whispered conversation
+with her father.
+
+He drew aside instantly as Dulcie came up and laid her school books on
+the desk. Soane, already redolent of Grogan's whiskey, pushed back his
+chair and got to his feet.
+
+"G'wan in f'r a bite an' a sup," he said to his daughter, "while I
+talk to the gintleman."
+
+So Dulcie went slowly into the superintendent's dingy quarters for her
+mid-day meal, which was dinner; and between her and a sloppy
+scrub-woman who cooked for them, she managed to warm up and eat what
+Soane had left for her from his own meal.
+
+When she returned to the desk in the hall, the one-eyed man had gone.
+Soane sat on the chair behind the desk, his face over-red and shiny,
+his heels drumming the devil's tattoo on the tessellated pavement.
+
+"I'll be at Grogan's," he said, as Dulcie seated herself in the
+ancient leather chair behind the desk telephone, and began to sort the
+pile of mail which the postman evidently had just delivered.
+
+"Very well," she murmured absently, turning around and beginning
+to distribute the letters and parcels in the various numbered
+compartments behind her. Soane slid off his chair to his feet and
+straightened up, stretching and yawning.
+
+"Av anny wan tilliphones to Misther Barres," he said, "listen in."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Listen in, I'm tellin' you. And if it's a lady, ask her name first,
+and then listen in. And if she says her name is Quellen or Dunois,
+mind what she says to Misther Barres."
+
+"Why?" enquired Dulcie, astonished.
+
+"Becuz I'm tellin' ye!"
+
+"I shall not do that," said the girl, flushing up.
+
+"Ah, bother! Sure, there's no harm in it, Dulcie! Would I be askin' ye
+to do wrong, asthore? Me who is your own blood and kin? Listen then:
+'Tis a woman what do be botherin' the poor young gentleman, an' I'll
+not have him f'r to be put upon. Listen, m'acushla, and if airy a lady
+tilliphones, or if she comes futtherin' an' muttherin' around here,
+call me at Grogan's and I'll be soon dishposen' av the likes av her."
+
+"Has she ever been here--this lady?" asked the girl, uncertain and
+painfully perplexed.
+
+"Sure has she! Manny's the time I've chased her out," replied Soane
+glibly.
+
+"Oh. What does she look like?"
+
+"God knows--annything ye don't wish f'r to look like yourself! Sure, I
+disremember what make of woman she might be--her name's enough for
+you. Call me up if she comes or rings. She may be a dangerous woman,
+at that," he added, "so speak fair to her and listen in to what she
+says."
+
+Dulcie slowly nodded, looking at him hard.
+
+Soane put on his faded brown hat at an angle, fished a cigar with a
+red and gold band from his fancy but soiled waistcoat, scratched a
+match on the seat of his greasy pants, and sauntered out through the
+big, whitewashed hallway into the street, with a touch of the swagger
+which always characterised him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie, both hands buried in her ruddy hair and both thin elbows on
+the desk, sat poring over her school books.
+
+Graduation day was approaching; there was much for her to absorb, much
+to memorise before then.
+
+As she studied she hummed to herself the air of the quaint song which
+she was to sing at her graduation exercises. That did not interfere
+with her concentration; but as she finished one lesson, cast aside the
+book, and opened another to prepare the next lesson, vaguely happy
+memories of her evening party with Barres came into her mind to
+disturb her thoughts, tempting her to reverie and the delicious
+idleness she knew only when alone and absorbed in thoughts of him.
+
+But she resolutely put him out of her mind and opened her book.
+
+The hall clock ticked loudly through the silence; slanting sun rays
+fell through the street grille, across the tessellated floor where
+flies crawled and buzzed.
+
+The Prophet sat full in a bar of sunlight and gravely followed the
+movements of the flies as though specialising on the study of those
+amazing insects.
+
+Tenants of Dragon Court passed out or entered at intervals, pausing to
+glance at their letter-boxes or requesting their keys.
+
+Westmore came down the eastern staircase, like an avalanche, with a
+cheery:
+
+"Hello, Dulcie! Any letters? All right, old dear! If you see Mr.
+Mandel, tell him I'll be at the club!"
+
+Corot Mandel came in presently, and she gave him Westmore's message.
+
+"Thanks," he said, not even glancing at the thin figure in the shabby
+dress too small for her. And, after peering into his letter-box, he
+went away with the indolent swing of a large and powerful plantigrade,
+gazing fixedly ahead of him out of heavy, oriental eyes, and twisting
+up his jet black, waxed moustache.
+
+A tall, handsome girl called and enquired for Mr. Trenor. Dulcie
+returned her amiable smile, unhooked the receiver, and telephoned up.
+But nobody answered from Esme Trenor's apartment, and the girl, whose
+name was Damaris Souval, and whose profession varied between the stage
+and desultory sitting for artists, smiled once more on Dulcie and
+sauntered out in her very charming summer gown.
+
+The shabby child looked after her through the sunny hallway, the smile
+still curving her lips--a sensitive, winning smile, untainted by envy.
+Then she resumed her book, serenely clearing her youthful mind of
+vanity and desire for earthly things.
+
+Half an hour later Esme Trenor sauntered in. His was a sensitive
+nature and fastidious, too. Dinginess, obscurity--everything that was
+shabby, tarnished, humble in life, he consistently ignored. He had
+ignored Dulcie Soane for three years: he ignored her now.
+
+He glanced indifferently into his letter-box as he passed the desk.
+Dulcie said, with the effort it always required for her to speak to
+him:
+
+"Miss Souval called, but left no message."
+
+Trenor's supercilious glance rested on her for the fraction of a
+second, then, with a bored nod, he continued on his way and up the
+stairs. And Dulcie returned to her book.
+
+The desk telephone rang: a Mrs. Helmund desired to speak to Mr.
+Trenor. Dulcie switched her on, rested her chin on her hand, and
+continued her reading.
+
+Some time afterward the telephone rang again.
+
+"Dragon Court," said Dulcie, mechanically.
+
+"I wish to speak to Mr. Barres, please."
+
+"Mr. Barres has not come in from luncheon."
+
+"Are you sure?" said the pretty, feminine voice.
+
+"Quite sure," replied Dulcie. "Wait a minute----"
+
+She called Barres's apartment; Aristocrates answered and confirmed his
+master's absence with courtly effusion.
+
+"No, he is not in," repeated Dulcie. "Who shall I say called him?"
+
+"Say that Miss Dunois called him up. If he comes in, say that Miss
+Thessalie Dunois will come at five to take tea with him. Thank you.
+Good-bye."
+
+Startled to hear the very name against which her father had warned
+her, Dulcie found it difficult to reconcile the sweet voice that came
+to her over the wire with the voice of any such person her father had
+described.
+
+Still a trifle startled, she laid aside the receiver with a disturbed
+glance toward the wrought-iron door at the further end of the hall.
+
+She had no desire at all to call up her father at Grogan's and inform
+him of what had occurred. The mere thought of surreptitious listening
+in, of eavesdropping, of informing, reddened her face. Also, she had
+long since lost confidence in the somewhat battered but jaunty man who
+had always neglected her, although never otherwise unkind, even when
+intoxicated.
+
+No, she would neither listen in nor inform on anybody at the behest of
+a father for whom, alas, she had no respect, merely those shreds of
+conventional feeling which might once have been filial affection, but
+had become merely an habitual solicitude.
+
+No, her character, her nature refused such obedience. If there was
+trouble between the owner of the unusually sweet voice and Mr. Barres,
+it was their affair, not hers, not her father's.
+
+This settled in her mind, she opened another book and turned the pages
+slowly until she came to the lesson to be learned.
+
+It was hard to concentrate; her thoughts were straying, now, to
+Barres.
+
+And, as she leaned there, musing above her dingy school book, through
+the grilled door at the further end of the hall stepped a young girl
+in a light summer gown--a beautiful girl, lithe, graceful, exquisitely
+groomed--who came swiftly up to the desk, a trifle pale and
+breathless:
+
+"Mr. Barres? He lives here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Please announce Miss Dunois."
+
+Dulcie flushed deeply under the shock:
+
+"Mr.--Mr. Barres is still out----"
+
+"Oh. Was it you I talked to over the telephone?" asked Thessalie
+Dunois.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. Barres has not returned?"
+
+"No."
+
+Thessalie bit her lip, hesitated, turned to go. And at the same
+instant Dulcie saw the one-eyed man at the street door, peering
+through the iron grille.
+
+Thessalie saw him, too, stiffened to marble, stood staring straight at
+him.
+
+He turned and went away up the street. But Dulcie, to whom the
+incident signified nothing in particular except the impudence of a
+one-eyed man, was not prepared for the face which Thessalie Dunois
+turned toward her. Not a vestige of colour remained in it, and her
+dark eyes seemed feverish and too large.
+
+"You need not give Mr. Barres any message from me," she said in an
+altered voice, which sounded strained and unsteady. "Please do not
+even say that I came or mention my name.... May I ask it of you?"
+
+Dulcie, very silent in her surprise, made no reply.
+
+"Please may I ask it of you?" whispered Thessalie. "Do you mind not
+telling anybody that I was here?"
+
+"If--you wish it."
+
+"I do. May I trust you?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Thank you--" A bank bill was in her gloved fingers; intuition warned
+her; she took another swift look at Dulcie. The child's face was
+flaming scarlet.
+
+"Forgive me," whispered Thessalie.... "And thank you, dear--" She bent
+over quickly, took Dulcie's hand, pressed it, looking her in the
+eyes.
+
+"It's all right," she whispered. "I am not asking you to do anything
+you shouldn't. Mr. Barres will understand it all when I write to
+him.... Did you see that man at the street door, looking through the
+grating?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know who he is?" whispered Thessalie.
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you never before seen him?"
+
+"Yes. He was here at two o'clock talking to my father."
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"My father's name is Lawrence Soane. He is superintendent of Dragon
+Court."
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Dulcie Soane."
+
+Thessalie still held her hand tightly. Then with a quick but forced
+smile, she pressed it, thanking the girl for her consideration, turned
+and walked swiftly through the hall out into the street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie, dreaming over her closed books in the fading light, vaguely
+uneasy lest her silence might embrace the faintest shadow of
+disloyalty to Barres, looked up quickly at the sound of his familiar
+footsteps on the pavement.
+
+"Hello, little comrade," he called to her on his way to the stairs.
+"Didn't we have a jolly party the other evening? I'm going out to
+another party this evening, but I bet it won't be as jolly as ours!"
+
+The girl smiled happily.
+
+"Any letters, Sweetness?"
+
+"None, Mr. Barres."
+
+"All the better. I have too many letters, too many visitors. It leaves
+me no time to have another party with you. But we shall have another,
+Dulcie--never fear. That is," he added, pretending to doubt her
+receptiveness of his invitation, "if you would care to have another
+with me."
+
+She merely looked at him, smiling deliciously.
+
+"Be a good child and we'll have another!" he called back to her,
+running on up the western staircase.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Around seven o'clock her father came in, steady enough of foot but
+shiny-red in the face and maudlin drunk.
+
+"That woman was here," he whined, "an' ye never called me up! I am
+b-bethrayed be me childer--wurra the day----"
+
+"Please, father! If any one sees you----"
+
+"An' phwy not! Am I ashamed o' the tears I shed? No, I am not. No
+Irishman need take shame along av the tears he sheds for Ireland--God
+bless her where she shtands!--wid the hob-nails av the crool tyrant
+foreninst her bleeding neck an'----"
+
+"Father, please----"
+
+"That woman I warned ye of! She was here! 'Twas the wan-eyed lad who
+seen her----"
+
+Dulcie rose and took him by his arm. He made no resistance; but he
+wept while she conducted him bedward, as the immemorial wrongs of
+Ireland tore his soul.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS
+
+
+The tremendous tragedy in Europe, now nearing the end of the second
+act, had been slowly shaking the drowsy Western World out of its snug
+slumber of complacency. Young America was already sitting up in bed,
+awake, alert, listening. Older America, more difficult to convince,
+rolled solemn and interrogative eyes toward Washington, where the
+wooden gods still sat nodding in a row, smiling vacuously at destiny
+out of carved and painted features. Eyes had they but they saw not,
+ears but they heard not; neither spake they through their mouths.
+
+Yet, they that made them were no longer like unto them, for many an
+anxious idolater no longer trusted in them. For their old God's voice
+was sounding in their ears.
+
+The voice of a great ex-president, too, had been thundering from the
+wilderness; lesser prophets, endowed, however, with intellect and
+vision, had been warning the young West that the second advent of
+Attila was at hand; an officer of the army, inspired of God, had
+preached preparedness from the market places and had established for
+its few disciples an habitation; and a great Admiral had died of a
+broken heart because his lips had been officially sealed--the wisest
+lips that ever told of those who go down to the sea in ships.
+
+Plainer and plainer in American ears sounded the mounting surf of
+that blood-red sea thundering against the frontiers of Democracy;
+clearer and clearer came the discordant clamour of the barbaric
+hordes; louder and more menacing the half-crazed blasphemies of their
+chief, who had given the very name of the Scourge of God to one among
+the degenerate litter he had sired.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Garret Barres had been educated like any American of modern New York
+type. Harvard, then five years abroad, and a return to his native city
+revealed him as an ambitious, receptive, intelligent young man, deeply
+interested in himself and his own affairs, theoretically patriotic, a
+good citizen by intention, an affectionate son and brother, and
+already a pretty good painter of the saner species.
+
+A modest income of his own enabled him to bide his time and decline
+pot-boilers. A comparatively young father and an even more youthful
+mother, both of sporting proclivities, together with a sister of the
+same tastes, were his preferred companions when he had time to go home
+to the family rooftree in northern New York. His lines, indeed, were
+cast in pleasant places. Beside still waters in green pastures, he
+could always restore his city-tarnished soul when he desired to retire
+for a while from the battleground of endeavour.
+
+The city, after all, offered him a world-wide battlefield; for Garret
+Barres was by choice a painter of thoroughbred women, of cosmopolitan
+men--a younger warrior of the brush imbued with the old traditions of
+those great English captains of portraiture, who recorded for us the
+more brilliant human truths of the seventeenth and eighteenth
+centuries.
+
+From their stately canvases aglow, the eyes of the lovely dead look
+out at us; the eyes of ambition, of pride, of fatuous complacency;
+the haunted eyes of sorrow; the clear eyes of faith. Out of the past
+they gaze--those who once lived--deathlessly recorded by Van Dyck,
+Lely, Kneller; by Gainsborough, Reynolds, Hoppner, Lawrence, Raeburn;
+or consigned to a dignified destiny by Stuart, Sully, Inman, and
+Vanderlyn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Barres returned to New York after many years, he found that the
+aspect of the city had not altered very greatly. The usual dirt,
+disorder, and municipal confusion still reigned; subways were being
+dug, but since the memory of man runneth, the streets of the
+metropolis have been dug up, and its market places and byways have
+been an abomination.
+
+The only visible excitement, however, was in the war columns of the
+newspapers, and, sometimes, around bulletin boards where wrangling
+groups were no uncommon sight, citizens and aliens often coming into
+verbal collision--sometimes physical--promptly suppressed by bored
+policemen.
+
+There was a "preparedness" parade; thousands of worthy citizens
+marched in it, nervously aware, now, that the Great Republic's only
+mobile military division was on the Mexican border, where also certain
+Guard regiments were likely to be directed to reinforce the
+regulars--pet regiments from the city, among whose corps of officers
+and enlisted men everybody had some friend or relative.
+
+But these regiments had not yet entrained. There were few soldiers to
+be seen on the streets. Khaki began to be noticeable in New York only
+when the Plattsburg camps opened. After that there was an interim of
+the usual dull, unaccented civilian monotony, mitigated at rare
+intervals by this dun-coloured ebb and flow from Plattsburg.
+
+Like the first vague premonitions of a nightmare the first ominous
+symptoms of depression were slowly possessing hearts already uneasy
+under two years' burden of rumours unprintable, horrors incredible to
+those aloof and pursuing the peaceful tenor of their ways.
+
+A growing restlessness, unbelief, the incapacity to
+understand--selfishness, rapacity, self-righteousness, complacency,
+cowardice, even stupidity itself were being jolted and shocked into
+something resembling a glimmer of comprehension as the hunnish U-boats,
+made ravenous by the taste of blood, steered into western shipping lanes
+like a vast shoal of sharks.
+
+And always thicker and thicker came the damning tales of rape
+and murder, of cowardly savagery, brutal vileness, degenerate
+bestiality--clearer, nearer, distinctly audible, the sigh of a
+ravaged and expiring civilisation trampled to obliteration by the
+slavering, ferocious swine of the north.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fires among shipping, fires amid great stores of cotton and grain
+destined for France or England, explosions of munitions of war ordered
+by nations of the Entente, the clumsy propaganda or impudent sneers of
+German and pro-German newspapers; reports of German meddling in
+Mexico, in South America, in Japan; more sinister news concerning the
+insolent activities of certain embassies--all these were beginning to
+have their logical effect among a fat and prosperous people which
+simply could not bear to be aroused from pleasant dreams of
+brotherhood to face the raw and hellish truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"For fifty years," remarked Barres to his neighbour, Esme Trenor,
+also a painter of somewhat eccentric portraits, "our national
+characteristic has been a capacity for absorbing bunk and a fixed
+determination to kid ourselves. There really is a war, Trenor, old
+top, and we're going to get into it before very long."
+
+Trenor, a tall, tired, exquisitely groomed young man, who once had
+painted a superficially attractive portrait of a popular debutante,
+and had been overwhelmed with fashionable orders ever since, was the
+adored of women. He dropped one attenuated knee over the other and
+lighted an attenuated cigarette.
+
+"Fancy anybody bothering enough about anything to fight over it!" he
+said languidly.
+
+"We're going to _war_, Trenor," repeated Barres, jamming his brushes
+into a bowl of black soap. "That's my positive conviction."
+
+"Yours is so disturbingly positive a nature," remonstrated the other.
+"Why ever raise a row? Nothing positive is of any real importance--not
+even opinions."
+
+Barres, vigorously cleaning his brushes in turpentine and black soap,
+glanced around at Trenor, and in his quick smile there glimmered a
+hint of good-natured malice. For Esme Trenor was notoriously anything
+except positive in his painting, always enveloping a lack of technical
+knowledge with a veil of camouflage. Behind this pretty veil hid many
+defects, perhaps even deformities--protected by vague, indefinite
+shadows and the effrontery of an adroit exploiter of the restless
+sex.
+
+But Esme Trenor was both clever and alert. He had not even missed that
+slight and momentary glimmer of good-humoured malice in the pleasant
+glance of Barres. But, like his more intelligent prototype, Whistler,
+it was impossible to know whether or not discovery ever made any
+particular difference to him. He tucked a lilac-bordered handkerchief
+a little deeper into his cuff, glanced at his jewelled wrist-watch,
+shook the long ash from his cigarette.
+
+"To be positive in anything," he drawled, "is an effort; effort
+entails exertion; exertion is merely a degree of violence; violence
+engenders toxins; toxins dull the intellect. Quod erat, dear friend.
+You see?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I see," nodded Barres, always frankly amused at Trenor and
+his ways.
+
+"Well, then, if you see----" Trenor waved a long, bony, over-manicured
+hand, expelled a ring or two of smoke, meditatively; then, in his
+characteristically languid voice: "To be positive closes the door to
+further observation and pulls down the window shades. Nothing remains
+except to go to bed. Is there anything more uninteresting than to go
+to bed? Is there anything more depressing than to know all about
+something?"
+
+"You do converse like an ass sometimes," remarked Barres.
+
+"Yes--sometimes. Not now, Barres. I don't desire to know all about
+anybody or anything. Fancy my knowing all about art, for example!"
+
+"Yes, fancy!" repeated Barres, laughing.
+
+"Or about anything specific--a woman, for example!" He shrugged
+wearily.
+
+"If you meet a woman and like her, don't you want to know all there is
+to know about her?" inquired Barres.
+
+"I should say not!" returned the other with languid contempt. "I don't
+wish to know anything at all about her."
+
+"Well, we differ about that, old top."
+
+"Religiously. A woman can be only an incidental amusement in one's
+career. You don't go to a musical comedy twice, do you? And any woman
+will reveal herself sufficiently in one evening."
+
+"Nice, kindly domestic instincts you have, Trenor."
+
+"I'm merely fastidious," returned the other, dropping his cigarette
+out of the open window. He rose, yawned, took his hat, stick and
+gloves.
+
+"Bye," he said languidly. "I'm painting Elsena Helmund this morning."
+
+Barres said, with good-humoured envy:
+
+"I've neither commission nor sitter. If I had, you bet I'd not stand
+there yawning at my luck."
+
+"It is you who have the luck, not I," drawled Trenor. "I give a
+portion of my spiritual and material self with every brush stroke,
+while you remain at liberty to flourish and grow fat in idleness. I
+perish as I create; my life exhausts itself to feed my art. What you
+call my good luck is my martyrdom. You see, dear friend, how fortunate
+you are?"
+
+"I see," grinned Barres. "But will your spiritual nature stand such a
+cruel drain? Aren't you afraid your morality may totter?"
+
+"Morality," mused Esme, going; "that is one of those early Gothic
+terms now obsolete, I believe----"
+
+He sauntered out with his hat and gloves and stick, still murmuring:
+
+"Morality? Gothic--very Gothic--"
+
+Barres, still amused, sorted his wet brushes, dried them carefully one
+by one on a handful of cotton waste, and laid them in a neat row
+across the soapstone top of his palette-table.
+
+"Hang it!" he muttered cheerfully. "I could paint like a streak this
+morning if I had the chance--"
+
+He threw himself back in his chair and sat there smoking for a while,
+his narrowing eyes fixed on a great window which opened above the
+court. Soft spring breezes stirred the curtains; sparrows were noisy
+out there; a strip of cobalt sky smiled at him over the opposite
+chimneys; an April cloud floated across it.
+
+He rose, walked over to the window and glanced down into the court.
+Several more hyacinths were now in blossom. The Prophet dozed
+majestically, curled up on an Italian garden seat. Beside him sprawled
+the snow white Houri, stretched out full length in the sun, her
+wonderful blue eyes following the irrational gambols of the
+tortoise-shell cat, Strindberg, who had gone loco, as usual, and was
+tearing up and down trees, prancing sideways with flattened ears and
+crooked tail, in terror at things invisible, or digging furiously
+toward China amid the hyacinths.
+
+Dulcie Soane came out into the court presently and expostulated with
+Strindberg, who suffered herself to be removed from the hyacinth bed,
+only to make a hysterical charge on her mistress's ankles.
+
+"Stop it, you crazy thing!" insisted Dulcie, administering a gentle
+slap which sent the cat bucketing and corvetting across the lawn,
+where the eccentric course of a dead leaf, blown by the April wind,
+instantly occupied its entire intellectual vacuum.
+
+Barres, leaning on the window-sill, said, without raising his voice:
+
+"Hello, Dulcie! How are you, after our party?"
+
+The child looked up, smiled shyly her response through the pale glory
+of the April sunshine.
+
+"What are you doing to-day?" he inquired, with casual but friendly
+interest.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Isn't there any school?"
+
+"It's Saturday."
+
+"That's so. Well, if you're doing nothing you're just as busy as I
+am," he remarked, smiling down at her where she stood below his
+window.
+
+"Why don't you paint pictures?" ventured the girl diffidently.
+
+"Because I haven't any orders. Isn't that sad?"
+
+"Yes.... But you could paint a picture just to please yourself,
+couldn't you?"
+
+"I haven't anybody to paint from," he explained with amiable
+indifference, lazily watching the effect of alternate shadow and
+sunlight on her upturned face.
+
+"Couldn't you find--somebody?" Her heart had suddenly begun to beat
+very fast.
+
+Barres laughed:
+
+"Would you like to have your portrait painted?"
+
+She could scarcely find voice to reply:
+
+"Will you--let me?"
+
+The slim young figure down there in the April sunshine had now
+arrested his professional attention. With detached interest he
+inspected her for a few moments; then:
+
+"You'd make an interesting study, Dulcie. What do you say?"
+
+"Do--do you mean that you _want_ me?"
+
+"Why--yes! Would you like to pose for me? It's pin-money, anyway.
+Would you like to try it?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Are you quite sure? It's hard work."
+
+"Quite--sure----" she stammered. The little flushed face was lifted
+very earnestly to his now, almost beseechingly. "I am quite sure," she
+repeated breathlessly.
+
+"So you'd really like to pose for me?" he insisted in smiling surprise
+at the girl's visible excitement. Then he added abruptly: "I've half a
+mind to give you a job as my private model!"
+
+Through the rosy confusion of her face her grey eyes were fixed on him
+with a wistful intensity, almost painful. For into her empty heart and
+starved mind had suddenly flashed a dazzling revelation. Opportunity
+was knocking at her door. Her chance had come! Perhaps it had been
+inherited from her mother--God knows!--this deep, deep hunger for
+things beautiful--this passionate longing for light and knowledge.
+
+Mere contact with such a man as Barres had already made endurable a
+solitary servitude which had been subtly destroying her child's
+spirit, and slowly dulling the hunger in her famished mind. And now to
+aid him--to feel that he was using her--was to arise from her rags of
+ignorance and emerge upright into the light which filled that
+wonder-house wherein he dwelt, and on the dark threshold of which her
+lonely little soul had crouched so long in silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She looked up almost blindly at the man who, in careless friendliness,
+had already opened his door to her, had permitted her to read his
+wonder-books, had allowed her to sit unreproved and silent from sheer
+happiness, and gaze unsatiated upon the wondrous things within the
+magic mansion where he dwelt.
+
+And now to serve this man; to aid him, to creep into the light in
+which he stood and strive to learn and see!--the thought already had
+produced a delicate intoxication in the child, and she gazed up at
+Barres from the sunny garden with her naked soul in her eyes. Which
+confused, perplexed, and embarrassed him.
+
+"Come on up," he said briefly. "I'll tell your father over the
+'phone."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She entered without a sound, closed the door which he had left open
+for her, advanced across the thick-meshed rug. She still wore her blue
+gingham apron; her bobbed hair, full of ruddy lights, intensified the
+whiteness of her throat. In her arms she cradled the Prophet, who
+stared solemnly at Barres out of depthless green eyes.
+
+"Upon my word," thought Barres to himself, "I believe I have found a
+model and an uncommon one!"
+
+Dulcie, watching his expression, smiled slightly and stroked the
+Prophet.
+
+"I'll paint you that way! Don't stir," said the young fellow
+pleasantly. "Just stand where you are, Dulcie. You're quite all right
+as you are----" He lifted a half-length canvas, placed it on his heavy
+easel and clamped it.
+
+"I feel exactly like painting," he continued, busy with his brushes
+and colours. "I'm full of it to-day. It's in me. It's got to come
+out.... And you certainly are an interesting subject--with your big
+grey eyes and bobbed red hair--oh, quite interesting constructively,
+too--as well as from the colour point."
+
+He finished setting his palette, gathered up a handful of brushes:
+
+"I won't bother to draw you except with a brush----"
+
+He looked across at her, remained looking, the pleasantly detached
+expression of his features gradually changing to curiosity, to the
+severity of increasing interest, to concentrated and silent
+absorption.
+
+"Dulcie," he presently concluded, "you are so unusually interesting
+and paintable that you make me think very seriously.... And I'm hanged
+if I'm going to waste you by slapping a technically adequate sketch of
+you onto this nice new canvas ... which might give me pleasure while
+I'm doing it ... and might even tickle my vanity for a week ... and
+then be laid away to gather dust ... and be covered over next year and
+used for another sketch.... No.... _No_!... You're worth more than
+that!"
+
+He began to pace the place to and fro, thinking very hard, glancing
+around at her from moment to moment, where she stood, obediently
+immovable on the blue meshed rug, clasping the Prophet to her breast.
+
+"Do you want to become my private model?" he demanded abruptly. "I
+mean seriously. Do you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I mean a real model, from whom I can ask anything?"
+
+"Oh, yes, please," pleaded the girl, trembling a little.
+
+"Do you understand what it means?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Sometimes you'll be required to wear few clothes. Sometimes none. Did
+you know that?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Westmore asked me once."
+
+"You didn't care to?"
+
+"Not for him."
+
+"You don't mind doing it for me?"
+
+"I'll do anything you ask me," she said, trying to smile and shivering
+with excitement.
+
+"All right. It's a bargain. You're my model, Dulcie. When do you
+graduate from school?"
+
+"In June."
+
+"Two months! Well--all right. Until then it will be a half day through
+the week, and all day Saturdays and Sundays, if I require you. You'll
+have a weekly salary----" He smiled and mentioned the figure, and the
+girl blushed vividly. She had, it appeared, expected nothing.
+
+"Why, Dulcie!" he exclaimed, immensely amused. "You didn't intend to
+come here and give me all your time for nothing, did you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But why on earth should you do such a thing for me?"
+
+She found no words to explain why.
+
+"Nonsense," he continued; "you're a business woman now. Your father
+will have to find somebody to cook for him and take the desk when he's
+out at Grogan's. Don't worry; I'll fix it with him.... By the way,
+Dulcie, supposing you sit down."
+
+She found a chair and took the Prophet onto her lap.
+
+"Now, this will be very convenient for me," he went on, inspecting her
+with increasing satisfaction. "If I ever have any orders--any
+sitters--you can have a vacation, of course. Otherwise, I'll always
+have an interesting model at hand--I've got chests full of wonderful
+costumes--genuine ones----" He fell silent, his eyes studying her.
+Already he was planning half a dozen pictures, for he was just
+beginning to perceive how adaptable the girl might be. And there was
+about her that indefinable something which, when a painter discovers
+it, interests him and arouses his intense artistic curiosity.
+
+"You know," he said musingly, "you are something more than pretty,
+Dulcie.... I could put you in eighteenth century clothes and you'd
+look logical. Yes, and in seventeenth century clothes, too.... I could
+do some amusing things with you in oriental garments.... A young
+Herodiade ... Calypso ... Theodora.... She was a child, too, you know.
+There's a portrait with bobbed hair--a young girl by Van Dyck.... You
+know you are quite stimulating to me, Dulcie. You excite a painter's
+imagination. It's rather odd," he added naively, "that I never
+discovered you before; and I've known you over two years."
+
+He had seated himself on the sofa while discoursing. Now he got up,
+touched a bell twice. The Finnish maid, Selinda, with her high
+cheek-bones, frosty blue eyes and colourless hair, appeared in cap and
+apron.
+
+"Selinda," he said, "take Miss Dulcie into my room. In a long, leather
+Turkish box on the third shelf of my clothes closet is a silk and gold
+costume and a lot of jade jewelry. Please put her into it."
+
+So Dulcie Soane went away with her cat in her arms, beside the neat
+and frosty-eyed Selinda; and Barres opened a portfolio of engravings,
+where were gathered the lovely aristocrats of Van Dyck and Rubens and
+Gainsborough and his contemporaries--a charmingly mixed company,
+separated by centuries and frontiers, yet all characterised by a
+common _something_--some inexplicable similarity which Barres
+recognised without defining.
+
+"It's rather amusing," he murmured, "but that kid, Dulcie, seems to
+remind me of these people--somehow or other.... One scarcely looks for
+qualities in the child of an Irish janitor.... I wonder who her mother
+was...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When he looked up again Dulcie was standing there on the thick rug. On
+her naked feet were jade bracelets, jade-set rings on her little toes;
+a cascade of jade and gold falling over her breasts to the straight,
+narrow breadth of peacock hue which fell to her ankles. And on her
+childish head, clasping the ruddy bobbed hair, glittered the
+jade-incrusted diadem of a fairy princess of Cathay.
+
+[Illustration: "YOU LITTLE MIRACLE!"]
+
+The Prophet, gathered close to her breast, stared back at Barres with
+eyes that dimmed the splendid jade about him.
+
+"That settles it," he said, the tint of excitement rising in his
+cheeks. "I _have_ discovered a model and a wonder! And right here is
+where I paint my winter Academy--right here and right now!... And I
+call it 'The Prophets.' Climb up on that model stand and squat there
+cross-legged, and stare at me--straight at me--the way your cat
+stares!... There you are. That's right! Don't move. Stay put or I'll
+come over and bow-string you!--you little miracle!"
+
+"Do--you mean me?" faltered Dulcie.
+
+"You bet, Sweetness! Do you know how beautiful you are? Well, never
+mind----" He had begun already to draw with a wet brush, and now he
+relapsed into absorbed silence.
+
+The Prophet watched him steadily. The studio became intensely still.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+DULCIE ANSWERS
+
+
+The studio door bell rang while Barres was at breakfast one morning
+late in June. Aristocrates leisurely answered the door, but shut it
+again immediately and walked out into the kitchenette without any
+explanation.
+
+Selinda removed the breakfast cover and fetched the newspaper. Later,
+Aristocrates, having washed his master's brushes, brought them into
+the studio mincingly, upon a silver service-salver.
+
+"No letters?" inquired Barres, glancing up over the morning paper and
+laying aside his cigarette.
+
+"No letters, suh. No co'espondence in any shape, fo'm or manner,
+suh."
+
+"Anybody to see me?" inquired Barres, always amused at Aristocrates'
+flights of verbiage.
+
+"Nobody, suh, excusin' a persistless 'viduality inquihin' fo' you,
+suh."
+
+"What persistless individuality was that?" asked Barres.
+
+"A ve'y or-nary human objec', suh, pahshially afflicted with one bad
+eye."
+
+"That one-eyed man? He's been here several times, hasn't he? Why does
+he come?"
+
+"Fo' commercial puhposes, suh."
+
+"Oh, a pedlar?"
+
+"He mentions a desiah, suh, to dispose, commercially, of vahious
+impo'ted materials requiahed by ahtists."
+
+"Didn't you show him the sign in the hall, 'No pedlars allowed'?"
+
+"Yaas, suh."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"I would not demean myse'f to repeat what this human objec' said,
+suh."
+
+"And what did you do then?"
+
+"Mistuh Barres, suh, I totally igno'hed that man," replied Aristocrates
+languidly.
+
+"Quite right. But you tell Soane to enforce the rule against pedlars.
+Every day there are two or three of them ringing at the studio, trying
+to sell colours, laces, or fake oriental rugs. It annoys me. Selinda
+can't hear the bell and I have to leave my work and open the door.
+Tell that persistless one-eyed man to keep away. Tell Soane to bounce
+him next time he enters Dragon Court. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yaas, suh. But Soane, suh, he's a might friendly Irish. He's spo'tin'
+'round Grogan's nights, 'longa this here one-eyed 'viduality. Yaas,
+suh. I done seen 'em co-gatherin' on vahious occasionalities."
+
+"Oho!" commented Barres. "It's graft, is it? This one-eyed pedlar
+meets Soane at Grogan's and bribes him with a few drinks to let him
+peddle colours in Dragon Court! That's the Irish of it, Aristocrates.
+I began to suspect something like that. All right. I'll speak to Soane
+myself.... Leave the studio door open; it's warm in here."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The month of May was now turning somewhat sultry as it melted into
+June. Every pivot-pane in the big studio window had been swung wide
+open. The sun had already clothed every courtyard tree with dense and
+tender foliage; hyacinth and tulip were gone and Soane's subscription
+geraniums blazed in their place like beds of coals heaped up on the
+grass plot of Dragon Court.
+
+But blue sky, sunshine of approaching summer, gentle winds and
+freshening rains brought only restlessness to New Yorkers that month
+of May.
+
+Like the first two years of the war, the present year seemed strange,
+unreal; its vernal breezes brought no balm, its blue skies no content.
+The early summer sunlight seemed almost uncanny in a world where,
+beyond the sea, millions of men at arms swayed ceaselessly under sun
+and moon alike, interlocked in one gigantic death grip!--a horrible
+and blood-drenched human chain of butchery stretching half around the
+earth.
+
+Into every Western human eye had come strange and subtle shadows which
+did not depart with moments of forgetful mirth, intervals of
+self-absorption, hours filled with familiar interests--the passions,
+hopes, perplexities of those years which were now no more.
+
+Those years of yesterdays! A vast and depthless cleft already divided
+them from to-day. They seemed as remote as dusty centuries--those days
+of an ordered and tranquil world--those days of little obvious faiths
+unshattered--even those days of little wars, of petty local strifes,
+of an almost universal calm and peace and trust in brotherhood and in
+the obligations of civilisation.
+
+Familiar yesterday had vanished, its creeds forgotten. It was already
+decades away, and fading like a legend in the ever-increasing glare of
+the red and present moment.
+
+And the month of May seemed strange, and its soft skies and sun seemed
+out of place in a world full of dying--a world heavy with death--a
+western world aloof from the raging hell beyond the seas, yet already
+tense under the distant threat of three continents in flames--and all
+aquiver before the deathly menace of that horde of blood-crazed demons
+still at large, still unsubdued, still ranging the ruins of the planet
+which they had so insanely set on fire.
+
+Entire nations were still burning beyond the ocean; other nations had
+sunk into cinders. Over the Eastern seas the furnace breath began to
+be felt along the out-thrust coast lines of the Western World. Inland,
+not yet; but every seaward city became now conscious of that first
+faint warning wave of heat from hell. Millions of ears strained to
+catch the first hushed whisper of the tumult. Silent in its suspense
+the Great Republic listened. Only the priesthood of the deaf and
+wooden gods continued voluble. But Israel had already begun to lift up
+its million eyes; and its ancient faith began to glow again; and its
+trust was becoming once more a living thing--the half-forgotten trust
+of Israel in that half-forgotten Lord, who, in the beginning, had been
+their helper and their shield.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Through the open studio door came Dulcie Soane. The Prophet followed
+at her slender heels, gently waving an urbane tail.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After his first smiling greeting--he always rose, advanced, and took
+her hand with that pleasant appearance of formality so adored by
+femininity, youthful or mature--he resumed his seat and continued to
+write his letters.
+
+These finished, he stamped them, rang for Aristocrates, picked up his
+palette and brushes, and pulled out the easel upon which was the
+canvas for the morning.
+
+Dulcie, still in the hands of Selinda, had not yet emerged. The
+Prophet sat upright on the carved table, motionless as a cat of ebony
+with green-jewelled eyes.
+
+"Well, old sport," said Barres, stepping across the rug to caress the
+cat, "you and your pretty mistress begin to look very interesting on
+my canvas."
+
+The Prophet received the blandishments with dignified gratitude. A
+discreet and feathery purring filled the room as Barres stroked the
+jet black, silky fur.
+
+"Fine cat, you are," commented the young man, turning as Dulcie
+entered.
+
+She laid one hand on his extended arm and sprang lightly to the model
+stand. And the next moment she was seated--a slim, gemmed thing
+glimmering with imperial jade from top to toe.
+
+Barres laid the Prophet in her arms, stepped back while Dulcie
+arranged the docile cat, then retreated to his canvas.
+
+"All right, Sweetness?"
+
+"All right," replied the child happily. And the morning seance was
+on.
+
+Barres was usually inclined to ramble along conversationally in his
+pleasant, detached way while at work, particularly if work went well.
+
+"Where were we yesterday, Dulcie? Oh, yes; we were talking about the
+Victorian era and its art; and we decided that it was not the barren
+desert that the ultra-moderns would have us believe. That's what we
+decided, wasn't it?"
+
+"_You_ decided," she said.
+
+"So did you, Dulcie. It was a unanimous decision. Because we both
+concluded that some among the Victorians were full of that sweet,
+clean sanity which alone endures. You recollect how our decision
+started?"
+
+"Yes. It was about my new pleasure in Tennyson, Browning, Morris,
+Arnold, and Swinburne."
+
+"Exactly. Victorian poets, if sometimes a trifle stilted and
+self-conscious, wrote nobly; makers of Victorian prose displayed
+qualities of breadth, imagination and vision and a technical
+cultivation unsurpassed. The musical compositions of that epoch were
+melodious and sometimes truly inspired; never brutal, never vulgar,
+never degenerate. And the Victorian sculptors and painters--at first
+perhaps austerely pedantic--became, as they should be, recorders of
+the times and customs of thought, bringing the end of the reign of a
+great Queen to an admirable renaissance."
+
+Dulcie's grey eyes never left his. And if she did not quite understand
+every word, already the dawning familiarity with his vocabulary and a
+general comprehension of his modes of self-expansion permitted her to
+follow him.
+
+"A great Queen, a great reign, a great people," he rambled on,
+painting away all the while. "And if in that era architecture declined
+toward its lowest level of stupidity, and if taste in furniture and in
+the plastic, decorative, and textile arts was steadily sinking toward
+its lowest ebb, and if Mrs. Grundy trudged the Empire, paramount, dull
+and smugly ferocious, while all snobbery saluted her and the humble
+grovelled before her dusty brogans, yet, Dulcie, it was a great era.
+
+"It was great because its faith had not been radically impaired; it
+was sane because Germany had not yet inoculated the human race with
+its porcine political vulgarities, its bestial degeneracy in art....
+And if, perhaps, the sentimental in British art and literature
+predominated, thank God it had not yet been tainted with the stark
+ugliness, the swinish nakedness, the ferocious leer of things
+Teutonic!"
+
+He continued to paint in silence for a while. Presently the Prophet
+yawned on Dulcie's knees, displaying a pink cavern.
+
+"Better rest," he said, nodding smilingly at Dulcie. She released the
+cat, who stretched, arched his back, yawned again gravely, and stalked
+away over the velvety Eastern carpet.
+
+Dulcie got up lithely and followed him on little jade-encrusted, naked
+feet.
+
+A box of bon-bons lay on the sofa; she picked up Rossetti's poems,
+turned the leaves with jewel-laden fingers, while with the other hand
+she groped for a bon-bon, her grey eyes riveted on the pages before
+her.
+
+During these intervals between poses it was the young man's custom to
+make chalk sketches of the girl, recording swiftly any unstudied
+attitude, any unconscious phase of youthful grace that interested
+him.
+
+Dulcie, in the beginning, diffidently aware of this, had now become
+entirely accustomed to it, and no longer felt any responsibility to
+remain motionless while he was busy with red chalk or charcoal.
+
+When she had rested sufficiently, she laid aside her book, hunted up
+the Prophet, who lazily endured the gentle tyranny, and resumed her
+place on the model stand.
+
+And so they worked away all the morning, until luncheon was served in
+the studio by Aristocrates; and Barres in his blouse, and Dulcie in
+her peacock silk, her jade, and naked feet, gravely or lightly as
+their moods dictated, discussed an omelette and a pot of tea or
+chocolate, and the ways and manners and customs of a world which
+Dulcie now was discovering as a brand new and most enchanting planet.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+HER DAY
+
+
+June was ending in a very warm week. Work in the studio lagged, partly
+because Dulcie, preparing for graduation, could give Barres little
+time; partly because, during June, that young man had been away
+spending the week-ends with his parents and his sister at Foreland
+Farms, their home.
+
+From one of these visits he returned to the city just in time to read
+a frantic little note from Dulcie Soane:
+
+  "DEAR MR. BARRES, please, _please_ come to my graduation. I do
+  want _somebody_ there who knows me. And my father is not well. Is
+  it too much to ask of you? I hadn't the courage to speak to you
+  about it when you were here, but I have ventured to write because
+  it will be so lonely for me to graduate without having anybody
+  there I know.
+
+  "DULCIE SOANE."
+
+It was still early in the morning; he had taken a night train to
+town.
+
+So when he had been freshened by a bath and change of linen, he took
+his hat and went down stairs.
+
+A heavy, pasty-visaged young woman sat at the desk in the entrance
+hall.
+
+"Where is Soane?" he inquired.
+
+"He's sick."
+
+"_Where_ is he?"
+
+"In bed," she replied indifferently. The woman's manner just
+verged on impertinence. He hesitated, then walked across to the
+superintendent's apartments and entered without knocking.
+
+Soane, in his own room, lay sleeping off the consequences of an
+evening at Grogan's. One glance was sufficient for Barres, and he
+walked out.
+
+On Madison Avenue he found a florist, selected a bewildering bouquet,
+and despatched it with a hasty note, by messenger, to Dulcie at her
+school. In the note he wrote:
+
+"I shall be there. Cheer up!"
+
+He also sent more flowers to his studio, with pencilled orders to
+Aristocrates.
+
+In a toy-shop he found an appropriate decoration for the centre of the
+lunch table.
+
+Later, in a jeweller's, he discovered a plain gold locket, shaped like
+a heart and inset with one little diamond. A slender chain by which to
+suspend it was easily chosen; and an extra payment admitted him to the
+emergency department where he looked on while an expert engraved upon
+the locket: "Dulcie Soane from Garret Barres," and the date.
+
+After that he went into the nearest telephone booth and called up
+several people, inviting them to dine with him that evening.
+
+It was nearly ten o'clock now. He took his little gift, stopped a
+taxi, and arrived at the big brick high-school just in time to enter
+with the last straggling parents and family friends.
+
+The hall was big and austerely bare, except for the ribbons and flags
+and palms which decorated it. It was hot, too, though all the great
+blank windows had been swung open wide.
+
+The usual exercises had already begun; there were speeches from
+Authority; prayers by Divinity; choral effects by graduating
+pulchritude.
+
+The class, attired in white, appeared to average much older than
+Dulcie. He could see her now, in her reconstructed communion dress,
+holding the big bouquet which he had sent her, one madonna lily of
+which she had detached and pinned over her breast.
+
+Her features were composed and delicately flushed; her bobbed hair was
+tucked up, revealing the snowy neck.
+
+One girl after another advanced and read or spoke, performing the
+particular parlour trick assigned her in the customary and perfectly
+unremarkable manner characteristic of such affairs.
+
+Rapturous parental demonstrations greeted each effort; piano, violin
+and harp filled in nobly. A slight haze of dust, incident to
+pedalistic applause, invaded the place; there was an odour of flowers
+in the heated atmosphere.
+
+Glancing at a programme which he had found on his seat, Barres read:
+"Song: Dulcie Soane."
+
+Looking up at her where she sat on the stage, among her comrades in white,
+he noticed that her eyes were busy searching the audience--possibly
+for him, he thought, experiencing an oddly pleasant sensation at the
+possibility.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The time at length arrived for Dulcie to do her parlour trick;
+she rose and came forward, clasping the big, fragrant bouquet,
+prettily flushed but self-possessed. The harp began a little minor
+prelude--something Irish and not very modern. Then Dulcie's pure,
+untrained voice stole winningly through the picked harp-strings'
+hesitation:
+
+      "Heart of a colleen,
+  Where do you roam?
+      Heart of a colleen,
+  Far from your home?
+  Laden with love you stole from her breast!
+  Wandering dove, return to your nest!
+
+      Sodgers are sailin'
+  Away to the wars;
+      Ladies are wailin'
+  Their woe to the stars;
+  Why is the heart of you straying so soon--
+  Heart that was part of you, Eileen Aroon?
+
+      Lost to a sodger,
+  Gone is my heart!
+      Lost to a sodger,
+  Now we must part----
+  I and my heart--for it journeys afar
+  Along with the sodgers who sail to the war!
+
+      Tears that near blind me
+  My pride shall dry,----
+      Wisha! don't mind me!
+  Lave a lass cry!
+  Only a sodger can whistle the tune
+  That coaxes the heart out of Eileen Aroon!"
+
+And Dulcie's song ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Almost instantly the audience had divined in the words she sang a
+significance which concerned them--a warning--perhaps a prophecy. The
+69th Regiment of New York infantry was Irish, and nearly every seat in
+the hall held a relative of some young fellow serving in its ranks.
+
+The applause was impulsive, stormy, persistent; the audience was
+demanding the young girl's recall; the noise they made became
+overwhelming, checking the mediating music and baffling the next
+embarrassed graduate, scheduled to read an essay, and who stood there
+mute, her manuscript in her hand.
+
+Finally the principal of the school arose, went over to Dulcie, and
+exchanged a few words with her. Then he came forward, hand lifted in
+appeal for silence.
+
+"The music and words of the little song you have just heard," he said,
+"were written, I have just learned, by the mother of the girl who sang
+them. They were written in Ireland a number of years ago, when Irish
+regiments were sent away for over-seas service. Neither words nor song
+have ever been published. Miss Soane found them among her mother's
+effects.
+
+"I thought the story of the little song might interest you. For,
+somehow, I feel--as I think you all feel--that perhaps the day may
+come--may be near--when the hearts of our women, too, shall be given
+to their soldiers--sons, brothers, fathers--who are 'sailin' away to
+the wars.' But if that time comes--which God avert!--then I know that
+every man here will do his duty.... And every woman.... And I know
+that:
+
+  'Tears that near blind you,
+  Your pride shall dry!----'"
+
+He paused a moment:
+
+"Miss Soane has prepared no song to sing as an encore. In her behalf,
+and in my own, I thank you for your appreciation. Be kind enough to
+permit the exercises to proceed."
+
+And the graduating exercises continued.
+
+Barres waited for Dulcie. She came out among the first of those
+departing, walking all alone in her reconstructed white dress, and
+carrying his bouquet. When she caught sight of him, her face became
+radiant and she made her way toward him through the crowd, seeking his
+outstretched hand with hers, clinging to it in a passion of gratitude
+and emotion that made her voice tremulous:
+
+"My bouquet--it is so wonderful! I love every flower in it! Thank you
+with all my heart. You are so kind to have come--so kind to me--so
+k-kind----"
+
+"It is I who should be grateful, Dulcie, for your charming little
+song," he insisted. "It was fascinating and exquisitely done."
+
+"Did you really like it?" she asked shyly.
+
+"Indeed I did! And I quite fell in love with your voice, too--with
+that trick you seem to possess of conveying a hint of tears through
+some little grace-note now and then.... And there _were_ tears hidden
+in the words; and in the melody, too.... And to think that your mother
+wrote it!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+After a short interval of silence he released her hand.
+
+"I have a taxi for you," he said gaily. "We'll drive home in state."
+
+The girl flushed again with surprise and gratitude:
+
+"Are--are _you_ coming, too?"
+
+"Certainly I'm going to take you home. Don't you belong to me?" he
+demanded laughingly.
+
+"Yes," she said. But her forced little smile made the low-voiced
+answer almost solemn.
+
+"Well, then!" he said cheerfully. "Come along. What's mine I look
+after. We'll have lunch together in the studio, if you are too proud
+to pose for a poor artist this afternoon."
+
+At this her sensitive face cleared and she laughed happily.
+
+"The pride of a high-school graduate!" he commented, as he seated
+himself beside her in the taxicab. "Can anything equal it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Her pride in your--friendship," she ventured.
+
+Which unexpected reply touched and surprised him.
+
+"You dear child!" he said; "I'm proud of your friendship, too. Nothing
+ought to make a man prouder than winning a young girl's confidence."
+
+"You are so kind," she sighed, touching the blossoms in her bouquet
+with slender fingers that trembled a little. For she would have
+offered him a flower from it had she found courage; but it seemed
+presumptuous and she dropped her hand into her lap again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aristocrates opened the door for them: Selinda took her away.
+
+Barres had ordered flowers for the table. In the middle of it a doll
+stood, attired in academic cap and gown, the Stars and Stripes in one
+hand, in the other a green flag bearing a gold harp.
+
+When Dulcie came in she stopped short, enchanted at the sight of the
+decorated table. But when Aristocrates opened the kitchen door and her
+three cats came trotting in, she was overcome.
+
+For each cat wore a red, white and blue cravat on which was pinned a
+silk shamrock; and although Strindberg immediately keeled over on the
+rug and madly attacked her cravat with her hind toes, the general
+effect remained admirable.
+
+Aristocrates seated Dulcie. Upon her plate was the box containing
+chain and locket. And the girl cast a swift, inquiring glance across
+the centre flowers at Barres.
+
+"Yes, it's for you, Dulcie," he said.
+
+She turned quite pale at sight of the little gift. After a silence she
+leaned on the table with both elbows, shading her face with her
+hands.
+
+He let her alone--let the first tense moment in her youthful life ebb
+out of it; nor noticed, apparently, the furtive and swift touch of her
+best handkerchief to her closed eyes.
+
+Aristocrates brought her a little glass of frosted orange juice. After
+an interval, not looking at Barres, she sipped it. Then she took the
+locket and chain from the satin-lined box, read the inscription,
+closed her lids for a second's silent ecstasy, opened them looking at
+him through rapturous tears, and with her eyes still fixed on him
+lifted the chain and fastened it around her slender neck.
+
+The luncheon then proceeded, the Prophet gravely assisting from the
+vantage point of a neighbouring chair, the Houri, more emotional,
+promenading earnestly at the heels of Aristocrates. As for Strindberg,
+she possessed neither manners nor concentration, and she alternately
+squalled her desires for food or frisked all over the studio,
+attempting complicated maneuvres with every curtain-cord and tassel
+within reach.
+
+Dulcie had found her voice again--a low, uncertain, tremulous little
+voice when she tried to thank him for the happiness he had given
+her--a clearer, firmer voice when he dexterously led the conversation
+into channels more familiar and serene.
+
+They talked of the graduating exercises, of her part in them, of her
+classmates, of education in general.
+
+She told him that since she was quite young she had learned to play
+the piano by remaining for an hour every day after school, and
+receiving instruction from a young teacher who needed a little extra
+pin money.
+
+As for singing, she had had no instruction. Her voice had never been
+tried, never been cultivated.
+
+"We'll have it tried some day," he said casually.
+
+But Dulcie shook her head, explaining that it was an expensive process
+and not to be thought of.
+
+"How did you pay for your piano lessons?" he asked.
+
+"I paid twenty-five cents an hour. My mother left a little money for
+me when I was a baby. I spent it all that way."
+
+"Every bit of it?"
+
+"Yes. I had $500. It lasted me seven years--from the time I was ten to
+now."
+
+"_Are_ you seventeen? You don't look it."
+
+"I know I don't. My teachers tell me that my mind is very quick but my
+body is slow. It annoys me to be mistaken for a child of fifteen. And
+I have to dress that way, too, because my dresses still fit me and
+clothes are very expensive."
+
+"Are they?"
+
+Dulcie became confidential and loquacious:
+
+"Oh, very. You don't know about girls' clothes, I suppose. But they
+cost a very great deal. So I've had to wear out dresses I've had ever
+since I was fourteen and fifteen. And so I can't put up my hair
+because it would make my dresses look ridiculous; and that renders the
+situation all the worse--to be obliged to go about with bobbed hair,
+you see? There doesn't seem to be any way out of it," she ended, with
+a despairing little laugh, "and I was seventeen last February!"
+
+"Cheer up! You'll grow old fast enough. And now you're going to have a
+jolly little salary as my model, and you ought to be able to buy
+suitable clothes. Oughtn't you?"
+
+She did not answer, and he repeated the question. And drew from her,
+reluctantly, that her father, so far, had absorbed what money she had
+earned by posing.
+
+A dull red gathered under the young man's cheek-bones, but he said
+carelessly:
+
+"That won't do. I'll talk it over with your father. I'm very sure
+he'll agree with me that you should bank your salary and draw out what
+you need for your personal expenses."
+
+Dulcie sat silent over her fruit and bon-bons. Reaction from the keen
+emotions of the day had, perhaps, begun to have their effect.
+
+They rose and reseated themselves on the sofa, where she sat in the
+corner among gorgeous Chinese cushions, her reconstructed dress now
+limp and shabby, the limp madonna lily hanging from her breast.
+
+It had been for her the happiest day of her life. It had dawned the
+loneliest, but under the magic of this man's kindness the day was
+ending like a day in Paradise.
+
+To Dulcie, however, happiness was less dependent upon receiving than
+upon giving; and like all things feminine, mature and immature, she
+desired to serve where her heart was enlisted--began to experience the
+restless desire to give. What? And as the question silently presented
+itself, she looked up at Barres:
+
+"Could I pose for you?"
+
+"On a day like this! Nonsense, Dulcie. This is your holiday."
+
+"I'd really like to--if you want me----"
+
+"No. Curl up here and take a nap. Slip off your gown so you won't muss
+it and ask Selinda for a kimono. Because you're going to need your
+gown this evening," he added smilingly.
+
+"Why? _Please_ tell me why?"
+
+"No. You've had enough excitement. Tell Selinda to give you a kimono.
+Then you can lie down in my room if you like. Selinda will call you in
+plenty of time. And after that I'll tell you how we're going to bring
+your holiday to a gay conclusion."
+
+She seemed disinclined to stir, curled up there, her eyes brilliant
+with curiosity, her lips a trifle parted in a happy smile. She lay
+that way for a few moments, looking up at him, her fingers caressing
+the locket, then she sat up swiftly.
+
+"Must I take a nap?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+She sprang to her feet, flashed past him, and disappeared in the
+corridor.
+
+"Don't forget to wake me!" she called back.
+
+"I won't forget!"
+
+When he heard her voice again, conversing with Selinda, he opened the
+studio door and went down stairs.
+
+Soane, rather the worse for wear, was at the desk, and, standing
+beside him, was a one-eyed man carrying two pedlar's boxes under his
+arms. They both looked around quickly when Barres appeared. Before he
+reached the desk the one-eyed man turned and walked out hastily into
+the street.
+
+"Soane," said Barres, "I've one or two things to say to you. The first
+is this: if you don't stop drinking and if you don't keep away from
+Grogan's, you'll lose your job here."
+
+"Musha, then, Misther Barres----"
+
+"Wait a moment; I'm not through. I advise you to stop drinking and to
+keep away from Grogan's. That's the first thing. And next, go on and
+graft as much as you like, only warn your pedlar-friends to keep away
+from Studio No. 9. Do you understand?"
+
+"F'r the love o' God----"
+
+"Cut out the injured innocence, Soane. I'm telling you how to avoid
+trouble, that's all."
+
+"Misther Barres, sorr! As God sees me----"
+
+"I can see you, too. I want you to behave, Soane. This is friendly
+advice. That one-eyed pedlar who just beat it has been bothering me.
+Other pedlars come ringing at the studio and interrupt and annoy me.
+You know the rules. If the other tenants care to stand for it, all
+right. But I'm through. Is that plain?"
+
+"It is, sorr," said the unabashed delinquent. The faintest glimmer of
+a grin came into his battered eyes. "Sorra a wan o' thim ever lays a
+hand to No. 9 bell or I'll have his life!"
+
+"One thing more," continued Barres, smiling in spite of himself at the
+Irish of it all. "I am paying Dulcie a salary----"
+
+"Wisha then----"
+
+"Stop! I tell you that she's in my employment on a salary. Don't ever
+touch a penny of it again."
+
+"Sure the child's wages----"
+
+"No, they _don't_ belong to the father. Legally, perhaps, but the law
+doesn't suit me. So if you take the money that she earns, and blow it
+in at Grogan's, I'll have to discharge her because I won't stand for
+what you are doing."
+
+"Would you do that, Mr. Barres?"
+
+"I certainly would."
+
+The Irishman scratched his curly head in frank perplexity.
+
+"Dulcie needs clothes suitable to her age," continued Barres. "She
+needs other things. I'm going to take charge of her savings so don't
+you attempt to tamper with them. You wouldn't do such a thing, anyway,
+Soane, if this miserable drink habit hadn't got a hold on you. If you
+don't quit, it will down you. You'll lose your place here. You know
+that. Try to brace up. This is a rotten deal you're giving yourself
+and your daughter."
+
+Soane wept easily. He wept now. Tearful volubility followed--picturesque,
+lit up with Hibernian flashes, then rambling, and a hint of slyness in
+it which kept one weeping eye on duty watching Barres all the while.
+
+"All right; behave yourself," concluded Barres. "And, Soane, I shall
+have three or four people to dinner and a little dancing afterward. I
+want Dulcie to enjoy her graduating dance."
+
+"Sure, Misther Barres, you're that kind to the child----"
+
+"_Somebody_ ought to be. Do you know that there was nobody she knew to
+see her graduate to-day, excepting myself?"
+
+"Oh, the poor darling! Sure, I was that busy----"
+
+"Busy sleeping off a souse," said Barres drily. "And by the way, who
+is that stolid, German-looking girl who alternates with you here at
+the desk?"
+
+"Miss Kurtz, sorr."
+
+"Oh. She seems stupid. Where did you dig her up?"
+
+"A fri'nd o' mine riccominds her highly, sorr."
+
+"Is that so? Who is he? One of your German pedlar friends at Grogan's?
+Be careful, Soane. You Sinn Feiners are headed for trouble."
+
+He turned and mounted the stairs. Soane looked after him with an
+uneasy expression, partly humorous.
+
+"Ah, then, Mr. Barres," he said, "don't be botherin' afther the likes
+of us poor Irish. Is there anny harrm in a sup o' beer av a Dootchman
+pays?"
+
+Barres looked back at him:
+
+"A one-eyed Dutchman?"
+
+"Ah, g'wan, sorr, wid yer hokin' an' jokin'! Is it graft ye say? An'
+how can ye say it, sorr, knowin' me as ye do, Misther Barres?"
+
+The impudent grin on the Irishman's face was too much for the young
+man. He continued to mount the stairs, laughing.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+HER EVENING
+
+
+As he entered the studio he heard the telephone ringing. Presently
+Selinda marched in:
+
+"A lady, sir, who will not giff her name, desires to spik to Mr.
+Barres."
+
+"I don't talk to anonymous people," he said curtly.
+
+"I shall tell her, sir?"
+
+"Certainly. Did you make Miss Dulcie comfortable?"
+
+"Yess, sir."
+
+"That's right. Now, take that dress of Miss Dulcie's, go out to some
+shop on Fifth Avenue, buy a pretty party gown of similar dimensions,
+and bring it back with you. Take a taxi both ways. Wait--take her
+stockings and slippers, too, and buy her some fine ones. And some
+underwear suitable." He went to a desk, unlocked it, and handed the
+maid a flat packet of bank-notes. "Be sure the things are nice," he
+insisted.
+
+Selinda, starched, immaculate, frosty-eyed, marched out. She returned
+a few moments later, wearing jacket and hat.
+
+"Sir, the lady on the telephone hass called again. The lady would
+inquire of Mr. Barres if perhaps he has recollection of the Fountain
+of Marie de Medicis."
+
+Barres reddened with surprise and pleasure:
+
+"Oh! Yes, indeed, I'll speak to _that_ lady. Hang up the service
+receiver, Selinda." And he stepped to the studio telephone.
+
+"Nihla?" he exclaimed in a low, eager voice.
+
+"C'est moi, Thessa! Have you a letter from me?"
+
+"No, you little wretch! Oh, Thessa, you're certainly a piker! Fancy my
+not hearing one word from you since April!--not a whisper, not a sign
+to tell me that you are alive----"
+
+"Garry, hush! It was not because I did not wish to see you----"
+
+"Yes, it was! You knew bally well that I hadn't your address and that
+you had mine! Is that what you call friendship?"
+
+"You don't understand what you are saying. I wanted to see you. It has
+been impossible----"
+
+"You are not singing and dancing anywhere in New York. I watched the
+papers. I even went to the Palace of Mirrors to enquire if you had
+signed with them there."
+
+"Wait! Be careful, please!----"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Be careful what you say over the telephone. For my sake, Garry. Don't
+use my former name or say anything to identify me with any place or
+profession. I've been in trouble. I'm in trouble still. Had you no
+letter from me this morning?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That is disquieting news. I posted a letter to you last night. You
+should have had it in your morning mail."
+
+"No letter has come from you. I had no letters at all in the morning
+mail, and only one or two important business letters since."
+
+"Then I'm deeply worried. I shall have to see you unless that letter
+is delivered to you by evening."
+
+"Splendid! But you'll have to come to me, Thessa. I've invited a few
+people to dine here and dance afterwards. If you'll dine with us, I'll
+get another man to balance the table. Will you?"
+
+After a moment she said:
+
+"Yes. What time?"
+
+"Eight! This is wonderful of you, Thessa!" he said excitedly. "If
+you're in trouble we'll clear it up between us. I'm so happy that you
+will give me this proof of friendship."
+
+"You dear boy," she said in a troubled voice. "I should be more of a
+friend if I kept away from you."
+
+"Nonsense! You promise, don't you?"
+
+"Yes ... Do you realise that to-night another summer moon is to
+witness our reunion?... I shall come to you once more under a full
+June moon.... And then, perhaps, no more.... Never.... Unless after
+the world ends I come to you through shadowy outer space--a ghost
+drifting--a shred of mist across the moon, seeking you once
+more!----"
+
+"My poor child," he said laughing, "you must be in no end of low
+spirits to talk that way."
+
+"It does sound morbid. But I have plenty of courage, Garry. I shall
+not snivel on the starched bosom of your evening shirt when we meet.
+Donc, a bientot, monsieur. Soyez tranquille! You shall not be ashamed
+of me among your guests."
+
+"Fancy!" he laughed happily. "Don't worry, Thessa. We'll fix up
+whatever bothers you. Eight o'clock! Don't forget!"
+
+"I am not likely to," she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Until Selinda returned from her foray along Fifth Avenue, Barres
+remained in the studio, lying in his armchair, still possessed by the
+delightful spell, still excited by the prospect of seeing Thessalie
+Dunois again, here, under his own roof.
+
+But when the slant-eyed and spotlessly blond Finn arrived, he came
+back out of his retrospective trance.
+
+"Did you get some pretty things for Miss Soane?" he enquired.
+
+"Yess, sir, be-ootiful." Selinda deposited on the table a sheaf of
+paid bills and the balance of the bank-notes. "Would Mr. Barres be
+kind enough to inspect the clothes for Miss Soane?"
+
+"No, thanks. You say they're all right?"
+
+"Yess, sir. They are heavenly be-ootiful."
+
+"Very well. Tell Aristocrates to lay out my clothes after you have
+dressed Miss Dulcie. There will be two extra people to dinner. Tell
+Aristocrates. Is Miss Dulcie still asleep?"
+
+"Yess, sir."
+
+"All right. Wake her in time to dress her so she can come out here and
+give me a chance----" He glanced at the clock "Better wake her now,
+Selinda. It's time for her to dress and evacuate my quarters. I'll
+take forty winks here until she's ready."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres lay dozing on the sofa when Dulcie came in.
+
+Selinda, enraptured by her own efficiency in grooming and attiring the
+girl, marched behind her, unable to detach herself from her own
+handiwork.
+
+From crown to heel the transfiguration was absolute--from the point of
+her silk slipper to the topmost curl on the head which Selinda had
+dressed to perfection.
+
+For Selinda had been a lady's maid in great houses, and also had a
+mania for grooming herself with the minute and thorough devotion of a
+pedigreed cat. And Dulcie emerged from her hands like some youthful
+sea-nymph out of a bath of foam, snowy-sweet as some fresh and
+slender flower.
+
+With a shy courage born with her own transfiguration, she went to
+Barres, where he lay on the sofa, and bent over him.
+
+She had made no sound; perhaps her nearness awoke him, for he opened
+his eyes.
+
+"Dulcie!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Do I please you?" she whispered.
+
+He sat up abruptly.
+
+"You wonderful child!" he said, frankly astonished. Whereupon he got
+off the sofa, walked all around her inspecting her.
+
+"What a get-up! What a girl!" he murmured. "You lovely little thing,
+you astound me! Selinda, you certainly know a thing or two. Take it
+from me, you do Miss Soane and yourself more credit in your way than I
+do with paint and canvas."
+
+Dulcie blushed vividly; the white skin of Selinda also reddened with
+pleasure at her master's enthusiasm.
+
+"Tell Aristocrates to fix my bath and lay out my clothes," he said.
+"I've guests coming and I've got to hustle!" And to Dulcie: "We're
+going to have a little party in honour of your graduation. That's what
+I have to tell you, dear. Does it please you? Do your pretty clothes
+please you?"
+
+The girl, overwhelmed, could only look at him. Her lips, vivid and
+slightly parted, quivered as her breath came irregularly. But she
+found no words--nothing to say except in the passionate gratitude of
+her grey eyes.
+
+"You dear child," he said gently. Then, after a moment's silence, he
+eased the tension with his quick smile: "Wonder-child, go and seat
+yourself very carefully, and be jolly careful you don't rumple your
+frock, because I want you to astonish one or two people this
+evening."
+
+Dulcie found her voice:
+
+"I--I'm so astonished at myself that I don't seem real. I seem to be
+somebody else--long ago!" She stepped close to him, opened her locket
+for his inspection, holding it out to him as far as the chain
+permitted. It framed a miniature of a red-haired, grey-eyed girl of
+sixteen.
+
+"Your mother, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes. How perfectly it fits into my locket! I carry it always in my
+purse."
+
+"It might easily be yourself, Dulcie," he said in a low voice. "You
+are her living image."
+
+"Yes. That is what astonishes me. To-night, for the first time in my
+life, it occurred to me that I look like this girl picture of my
+mother."
+
+"You never thought so before?"
+
+"Never." She stood looking down at the laughing face in the locket for
+a few moments, then, lifting her eyes to his:
+
+"I've been made over, in a day, to look like this.... You did it!"
+
+"Nonsense! Selinda and her curling iron did it."
+
+They laughed a little.
+
+"No," she said, "you have made me. You began to make me all over three
+months ago--oh, longer ago than that!--you began to remake me the
+first time you ever spoke to me--the first time you opened your door
+to me. That was nearly two years ago. And ever since I have been
+slowly becoming somebody quite new--inside and outside--until
+to-night, you see, I begin to look like my mother." She smiled at him,
+drew a deep breath, closed the locket, dropped it on her breast.
+
+"I mustn't keep you," she said. "I wanted to show the picture--so you
+can understand what you have done for me to make me look like that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Barres returned to the studio, freshened and groomed for the
+evening, he found Dulcie at the piano, playing the little song she had
+sung that morning, and singing the words under her breath. But she
+ceased as he came up, and swung around on the piano-stool to confront
+him with the most radiant smile he had ever seen on a human face.
+
+"What a day this has been!" she said, clasping her hands tightly. "I
+simply cannot make it seem real."
+
+He laughed:
+
+"It isn't ended yet, either. There's a night to every day, you know.
+And your graduation party will begin in a few moments."
+
+"I know. I'm fearfully excited. You'll stay near me, won't you?"
+
+"You bet! Did I tell you who are coming? Well, then, you won't feel
+strange, because I've merely asked two or three men who live in Dragon
+Court--men you see every day--Mr. Trenor, Mr. Mandel, and Mr.
+Westmore."
+
+"Oh," she said, relieved.
+
+"Also," he said, "I have asked Miss Souval--that tall, pretty girl who
+sometimes sits for Mr. Trenor--Damaris Souval. You remember her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Also," he continued, "Mr. Mandel wishes to bring a young married
+woman who has developed a violent desire for the artistic and
+informal, but who belongs in the Social Register." He laughed. "It's
+all right if Corot Mandel wants her. Her name is Mrs. Helmund--Elsena
+Helmund. Mr. Trenor is painting her."
+
+Dulcie's face was serious but calm.
+
+"And then, to even the table," concluded Barres smilingly, "I invited
+a girl I knew long ago in Paris. Her name is Thessalie Dunois; and
+she's very lovely to look upon, Dulcie. I am very sure you will like
+her."
+
+There was a silence; then the electric bell rang in the corridor,
+announcing the arrival of the first guest. As Barres rose, Dulcie laid
+her hand on his arm--a swift, involuntary gesture--as though the girl
+were depending on his protection.
+
+The winning appeal touched him and amused him, too.
+
+"Don't worry, dear," he said. "You'll have the prettiest frock in the
+studio--if you need that knowledge to reassure you----"
+
+The corridor door opened and closed. Somebody went into his bedroom
+with Selinda--that being the only available cloak-room for women.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+HER NIGHT
+
+
+"Thessalie Dunois! This is charming of you!" said Barres, crossing the
+studio swiftly and taking her hand in both of his.
+
+"I'm so glad to see you, Garry--" she looked past him across the
+studio at Dulcie, and her voice died out for a moment. "Who is that
+girl?" she enquired under her breath.
+
+"I'll present you----"
+
+"Wait. _Who_ is she?"
+
+"Dulcie Soane----"
+
+"_Soane?_"
+
+"Yes. I'll tell you about her later----"
+
+"In a moment, Garry." Thessalie looked across the room at the girl for
+a second or two longer, then turned a troubled, preoccupied gaze on
+Barres. "Have you a letter from me? I posted it last night."
+
+"Not yet."
+
+The doorbell rang. He could hear more guests entering the corridor
+beyond. A faint smile--the forced smile of courage--altered
+Thessalie's features now, until it became a fixed and pretty mask.
+
+"Contrive to give me a moment alone with you this evening," she
+whispered. "My need is great, Garry."
+
+"Whenever you say! Now?"
+
+"No. I want to talk to that young girl first."
+
+They walked over to where Dulcie stood by the piano, silent and
+self-possessed.
+
+"Thessa," he said, "this is Miss Soane, who graduated from high school
+to-day, and in whose honour I am giving this little party." And to
+Dulcie he said: "Miss Dunois and I were friends when I lived in
+France. Please tell her about your picture, which you and I are
+doing." He turned as he finished speaking, and went forward to welcome
+Esme Trenor and Damaris Souval, who happened to arrive together.
+
+"Oh, the cunning little girl over there!" exclaimed the tall and
+lovely Damaris, greeting Barres with cordial, outstretched hands.
+"Where did you find such an engaging little thing?"
+
+"You don't recognise her?" he asked, amused.
+
+"I? No. Should I?"
+
+"She's Dulcie Soane, the girl at the desk down-stairs!" said Barres,
+delighted. "This is her party. She has just graduated from high
+school, and she----"
+
+"Belongs to Barres," interrupted Esme Trenor in his drawling voice.
+"Unusual, isn't she, Damaris?--logical anatomy, ornamental, vague
+development; nice lines, not obvious--like yours, Damaris," he added
+impudently. Then waving his lank hand with its over-polished nails: "I
+like the indefinite accented with one ripping value. Look at that
+hair!--lac and burnt orange rubbed in, smeared, then wiped off with
+the thumb! You follow the intention, Barres?"
+
+"You talk too much, Esme," interrupted Damaris tartly. "Who is that
+lovely being talking to the little Soane girl, Garry?"
+
+"A friend of my Paris days--Thessalie Dunois----" Again he checked
+himself to turn and greet Corot Mandel, subtle creator and director of
+exotic spectacles--another tall and rather heavily built man, with a
+mop of black and shiny hair, a monocle, and sanguine features slightly
+oriental.
+
+With Corot Mandel had come Elsena Helmund--an attractive woman of
+thoroughbred origin and formal environment, and apparently fed up with
+both. For she frankly preferred "grades" to "registered stock," and
+she prowled through every art and theatrical purlieu from the Mews to
+Westchester, in eternal and unquiet search for an antidote to the
+sex-ennui which she erroneously believed to be an intellectual
+necessity for self-expression.
+
+"Who is that winning child with red hair?" she enquired, nodding
+informal recognition to the other guests, whom she already knew.
+"Don't tell me," she added, elevating a quizzing glass and staring at
+Dulcie, "that this engaging infant has a history already! It isn't
+possible, with that April smile in her child eyes!"
+
+"You bet she hasn't a history, Elsena," said Barres, frowning;
+"and I'll see that she doesn't begin one as long as she's in my
+neighbourhood."
+
+Corot Mandel, who had been heavily inspecting Dulcie through his
+monocle, now stood twirling it by its frayed and greasy cord:
+
+"I could do something for her--unless she's particularly yours,
+Barres?" he suggested. "I've seldom seen a better type in New York."
+
+"You idiot. Don't you recognise her? She's Dulcie Soane! You could
+have picked her yourself if you'd had any flaire."
+
+"Oh, hell," murmured Mandel, disgusted. "And I thought I possessed
+flaire. Your private property, I suppose?" he added sourly.
+
+"Absolutely. Keep off!"
+
+"Watch me," murmured Corot Mandel, with a wry face, as they moved
+forward to join the others and be presented to the little guest of the
+evening.
+
+Westmore came in at the same moment--a short, blond, vigorous young
+man, who knew everybody except Thessalie, and proceeded to smash the
+ice in characteristic fashion:
+
+"Dulcie! You beautiful child! How are you, duckey?"--catching her by
+both hands,--"a little salute for Nunky? Yes?"--kissing her heartily
+on both cheeks. "I've a gift for you in my overcoat pocket. We'll
+sneak out and get it after dinner!" He gave her hands a hearty
+squeeze, turned to the others: "I ought to have been Miss Soane's
+godfather. So I appointed myself as such. Where are the cocktails,
+Garry?"
+
+Road-to-ruin cocktails were served--frosted orange juice for Dulcie.
+Everybody drank her health. Then Aristocrates gracefully condescended
+to announce dinner. And Barres took out Dulcie, her arm resting light
+as a snowflake on his sleeve.
+
+There were flowers everywhere in the dining-room; table, buffet,
+curtains, lustres were gay with early blossoms, exhaling the haunting
+scent of spring.
+
+"Do you like it, Dulcie?" he whispered.
+
+She merely turned and looked at him, quite unable to speak, and he
+laughed at her brilliant eyes and flushed cheeks, and, dropping his
+right hand, squeezed hers.
+
+"It's your party, Sweetness--all yours! You must have a good time
+every minute!" And he turned, still smiling, to Thessalie Dunois on
+his left:
+
+"It's quite wonderful, Thessa, to have you here--to be actually seated
+beside you at my own table. I shall not let you slip away from me
+again, you enchanting ghost!--and leave me with a dislocated heart."
+
+"Garry, that sounds almost sentimental. We're not, you know."
+
+"How do I know? You never gave me a chance to be sentimental."
+
+She laughed mirthlessly:
+
+"Never gave you a chance? And our brief but headlong career together,
+monsieur? What was it but a continuous cataract of chances?"
+
+"But we were laughing our silly heads off every minute! I had no
+opportunity."
+
+That seemed to amuse her and awaken the ever-latent humour in her.
+
+"Opportunity," she observed demurely, "should be created and taken,
+not shyly awaited with eyes rolled upward and a sucked thumb."
+
+They both laughed outright. Her colour rose; the old humorous
+challenge was in her eyes again; the subtle mask was already slipping
+from her features, revealing them in all their charming recklessness.
+
+"You know my creed," she said; "to go forward--laugh--and accept what
+Destiny sends you--still laughing!" Her smile altered again, became,
+for a moment, strange and vague. "God knows that is what I am doing
+to-night," she murmured, lifting her slim glass, in which the gush of
+sunny bubbles caught the candlelight. "To Destiny--whatever it may be!
+Drink with me, Garry!"
+
+Around them the chatter and vivacity increased, as Damaris ended a
+duel of wit with Westmore and prepared for battle with Corot Mandel.
+Everybody seemed to be irresponsibly loquacious except Dulcie, who sat
+between Barres and Esme Trenor, a silent, smiling, reserved little
+listener. For Barres was still conversationally involved with
+Thessalie, and Esme Trenor, languid and detached, being entirely
+ignored by Damaris, whom he had taken out, awaited his own proper
+modicum of worship from his silent little neighbour on his left--which
+tribute he took for granted was his sacred due, and which, hitherto,
+he had invariably received from woman.
+
+But nobody seemed to be inclined to worship; Damaris scarcely deigned
+to notice him, his impudence, perhaps, still rankling. Thessalie,
+laughingly engaged with Barres, remained oblivious to the fashionable
+portrait painter. As for Elsena Helmund, that youthful matron was
+busily pretending to comprehend Corot Mandel's covert orientalisms,
+and secretly wondering whether they were, perhaps, as improper as
+Westmore kept whispering to her they were, urging her to pick up her
+skirts and run.
+
+Esme Trenor permitted a few weary but slightly disturbed glances to
+rest on Dulcie from time to time, but made no effort to entertain
+her.
+
+And she, on her part, evinced no symptoms of worshipping him. And all
+the while he was thinking to himself:
+
+"Can this be the janitor's daughter? Is she the same rather soiled,
+impersonal child whom I scarcely ever noticed--the thin, immature,
+negligible little drudge with a head full of bobbed red hair?"
+
+His lack of vision, of finer discernment, deeply annoyed him. Her lack
+of inclination to worship him, now that she had the God-sent
+opportunity, irritated him.
+
+"The silly little bounder," he thought, "how can she sit beside me
+without timidly venturing to entertain me?"
+
+He stole another profoundly annoyed glance at Dulcie. The child was
+certainly beautiful--a slim, lovely, sensitive thing of qualities so
+delicate that the painter of pretty women became even more surprised
+and chagrined that it had taken Barres to discover this desirable girl
+in the silent, shabby child of Larry Soane.
+
+Presently he lurched part way toward her in his chair, and looked at
+her with bored but patronising encouragement.
+
+"Talk to me," he said languidly.
+
+Dulcie turned and looked at him out of uninterested grey eyes.
+
+"What?" she said.
+
+"Talk to me," he repeated pettishly.
+
+"Talk to yourself," retorted Dulcie, and turned again to listen to the
+gay nonsense which Damaris and Westmore were exchanging amid peals of
+general laughter.
+
+But Esme Trenor was thunderstruck. A deep and painful colour stained
+his pallid features. Never before had mortal woman so flouted him. It
+was unthinkable. It really wouldn't do. There must be some explanation
+for this young girl's monstrous attitude toward offered opportunity.
+
+"I say," he insisted, still very red, "are you bashful, by any
+chance?"
+
+Dulcie slowly turned toward him again:
+
+"Sometimes I am bashful; not now."
+
+"Oh. Then wouldn't you like to talk to me?"
+
+"I don't think so."
+
+"Fancy! And why not, Dulcie?"
+
+"Because I haven't anything to say to you."
+
+"Dear child, that is the incentive to all conversation--lack of
+anything to say. You should practise the art of saying nothing
+politely."
+
+"_You_ should have practised it enough to say good morning to me
+during these last five years," said Dulcie gravely.
+
+"Oh, I say! You're rather severe, you know! You were just a little
+thing running about underfoot!--I'm sorry you feel angry----"
+
+"I do not. But how can I have anything to talk to you about, Mr.
+Trenor, when you have never even noticed me all these years, although
+often I have handed you your keys and your letters."
+
+"It was quite stupid of me. I'm sorry. But a man, you see, doesn't
+notice children----"
+
+"Some men do."
+
+"You mean Mr. Barres! That _is_ unkind. Why rub it in, Dulcie? I'm
+rather an interesting fellow, after all."
+
+"Are you?" she asked absently.
+
+Her honest indifference to him was perfectly apparent to Esme Trenor.
+This would never do. She must be subdued, made sane, disciplined!
+
+"Do you know," he drawled, leaning lankly nearer, dropping both arms
+on the cloth, and fixing his heavy-lidded eyes intensely on her,"--do
+you know--do you guess, perhaps, why I never spoke to you in all these
+years?"
+
+"You did not trouble yourself to speak to me, I imagine."
+
+"You are wrong. I was _afraid_!" And he stared at her pallidly.
+
+"Afraid?" she repeated, puzzled.
+
+He leaned nearer, confidential, sad:
+
+"Shall I tell you a precious secret, Dulcie? I am a coward. I am a
+slave of fear. I am afraid of beauty! Isn't that a very strange thing
+to say? Can you understand the subtlety of that indefinable
+psychology? Fear is an emotion. Fear of the beautiful is still a
+subtler emotion. Fear, itself, is beautiful beyond words. Beauty is
+Fear. Fear is Beauty. Do you follow me, Dulcie?"
+
+"No," said the girl, bewildered.
+
+Esme sighed:
+
+"Some day you will follow me. It is my destiny to be followed,
+pursued, haunted by loveliness impotently seeking to express itself to
+me, while I, fearing it, dare only to express my fear with brush and
+pencil!... _When_ shall I paint you?" he added with sad benevolence.
+
+"What?"
+
+"When shall I try to interpret upon canvas my subtle fear of you?"
+And, as the girl remained mute: "When," he explained languidly, "shall
+I appoint an hour for you to sit to me?"
+
+"I am Mr. Barres's model," she said, flushing.
+
+"I shall have to arrange it with him, then," he nodded, wearily.
+
+"I don't think you can."
+
+"Fancy! Why not?"
+
+"Because I do not wish to sit to anybody except Mr. Barres," she said
+candidly, "and what you paint does not interest me at all."
+
+"Are you familiar with my work?" he asked incredulously.
+
+She shook her head, shrugged, and turned to Barres, who had at last
+relinquished Thessalie to Westmore.
+
+"Well, Sweetness," he said gaily, "do you get on with Esme Trenor?"
+
+"He talked," she said in a voice perfectly audible to Esme.
+
+Barres glanced toward Esme, secretly convulsed, but that young apostle
+of Fear had swung one thin leg over the other and was now presenting
+one shoulder and the back of his head to them both, apparently in
+delightful conversation with Elsena Helmund, who was fed up on him and
+his fears.
+
+"You must always talk to your neighbours at dinner," insisted Barres,
+still immensely amused. "Esme is a very popular man with fashionable
+women, Dulcie,--a painter in much demand and much adored.... Why do
+you smile?"
+
+Dulcie smiled again, deliciously.
+
+"Anyway," continued Barres, "you must now give the signal for us to
+rise by standing up. I'm so proud of you, Dulcie, darling!" he added
+impulsively; "--and everybody is mad about you!"
+
+"You made me--" she laughed mischievously, "--out of a rag and a bone
+and a hank of hair!"
+
+"You made yourself out of nothing, child! And everybody thinks you
+delightful."
+
+"Do _you_?"
+
+"You dear girl!--of course I do. Does it make such a difference to
+you, Dulcie--my affection for you?"
+
+"Is it--_affection_?"
+
+"It certainly is. Didn't you know it?"
+
+"I didn't--know--what it was."
+
+"Of course it is affection. Who could be with you as I have been and
+not grow tremendously fond of you?"
+
+"Nobody ever did except you. Mr. Westmore was always nice. But--but
+you are so kind--I can't express--I--c-can't----" Her emotion checked
+her.
+
+"Don't try, dear!" he said hastily. "We're going in to have a jolly
+dance now. You and I begin it together. Don't you let any other fellow
+take you away!"
+
+She looked up, laughed blissfully, gazing at him with brilliant eyes a
+little dimmed.
+
+"They'll all be at your heels," he said, beginning to comprehend the
+beauty he had let loose on the world, "--every man-jack of them, mark
+my prophecy! But ours is the first dance, Dulcie. Promise?"
+
+"I do. And I promise you the next--please----"
+
+"Well, I'm host," he said doubtfully, and a trifle taken aback. "We'll
+have some other dances together, anyway. But I couldn't monopolise
+you, Sweetness."
+
+The girl looked at him silently, then her grey, intelligent eyes
+rested directly on Thessalie Dunois.
+
+"Will you dance with her?" she asked gravely.
+
+"Yes, of course. And with the others, too. Tell me, Dulcie, did you
+find Miss Dunois agreeable?"
+
+"I--don't--know."
+
+"Why, you ought to like her. She's very attractive."
+
+"She is quite beautiful," said the girl, watching Thessalie across his
+shoulder.
+
+"Yes, she really is. What did you and she talk about?"
+
+"Father," replied Dulcie, determined to have no further commerce with
+Thessalie Dunois which involved a secrecy excluding Barres. "She asked
+me if he were not my father. Then she asked me a great many stupid
+questions about him. And about Miss Kurtz, who takes the desk when
+father is out. Also, she asked me about the mail and whether the
+postman delivered letters at the desk or in the box outside, and about
+the tenants' mail boxes, and who distributed the letters through them.
+She seemed interested," added the girl indifferently, "but I thought
+it a silly subject for conversation."
+
+Barres, much perplexed, sat gazing at Dulcie in silence for a moment,
+then recollecting his duty, he smiled and whispered:
+
+"Stand up, now, Dulcie. You are running this show."
+
+The girl flushed and rose, and the others stood up. Barres took her to
+the studio door, then returned to the table with the group of men.
+
+"Well," he exclaimed happily, "what do you fellows think of Soane's
+little girl now? Isn't she the sweetest thing you ever heard of?"
+
+"A peach!" said Westmore, in his quick, hearty voice. "What's the
+idea, Garry? Is it to be her career, this posing business? And where
+is it going to land her? In the Winter Garden?"
+
+"Where is it going to land _you_?" added Esme impudently.
+
+"Why, I don't know, myself," replied Barres, with a troubled smile.
+"The little thing always appealed to me--her loneliness and neglect,
+and--and something about the child--I can't define it----"
+
+"Possibilities?" suggested Mandel viciously. "Take it from me, you're
+some picker, Garry."
+
+"Perhaps. Anyway, I've given her the run of my place for the last two
+years and more. And she has been growing up all the while, and I
+didn't notice it. And suddenly, this spring, I discovered her for the
+first time.... And--well, look at her to-night!"
+
+"She's your private model, isn't she?" persisted Mandel.
+
+"Entirely," replied Barres drily.
+
+"Selfish dog!" remarked Westmore, with his lively, wholesome laugh. "I
+once asked her to sit for me--more out of good nature than anything
+else. And a jolly fine little model she ought to make you, Garry.
+She's beginning to acquire a figure."
+
+"She's quite wonderful that way, too," nodded Barres.
+
+"Undraped?" inquired Esme.
+
+"A miracle," nodded Barres absently. "Paint is becoming inadequate. I
+shall model her this summer. I tell you I have never seen anything to
+compare to her. Never!"
+
+"What else will you do with her?" drawled Esme. "You'll go stale on
+her some day, of course. Am I next?"
+
+"_No_!... I don't know what she'll do. It begins to look like a
+responsibility, doesn't it? She's such a fine little girl," explained
+Barres warmly. "I've grown quite fond of her--interested in her. Do
+you know she has an excellent mind? And nice, fastidious instincts?
+She _thinks_ straight. That souse of a father of hers ought to be
+jailed for the way he neglects her."
+
+"Are you thinking of adopting her?" asked Trenor, with the faintest of
+sneers, which escaped Barres.
+
+"Adopt a _girl_? Oh, Lord, no! I can't do anything like that. Yet--I
+hate to think of her future, too ... unless somebody looks out for
+her. But it isn't possible for _me_ to do anything for her except to
+give her a good job with a decent man----"
+
+"Meaning yourself," commented Mandel, acidly.
+
+"Well, I _am_ decent," retorted Barres warmly, amid general laughter.
+"You fellows know what chances she might take with some men," he
+added, laughing at his own warm retort.
+
+Esme and Corot Mandel nodded piously, each perfectly aware of what
+chance any attractive girl would run with his predatory neighbour.
+
+"To shift the subject of discourse--that girl, Thessalie Dunois,"
+began Westmore, in his energetic way, "is about the cleverest and
+prettiest woman I've seen in New York outside the theatre district."
+
+"I met her in France," said Barres, carelessly. "She really is
+wonderfully clever."
+
+"I shall let her talk to me," drawled Esme, flicking at his cigarette.
+"It will be a liberal education for her."
+
+Mandel's slow, oriental eyes blinked contempt; he caressed his waxed
+moustache with nicotine-stained fingers:
+
+"I am going to direct an out-of-door spectacle--a sort of play--not
+named yet--up your way, Barres--at Northbrook. It's for the
+Belgians.... If Miss Dunois--unless," he added sardonically, "you have
+her reserved, also----"
+
+"Nonsense! You cast Thessalie Dunois and she'll make your show for
+you, Mandel!" exclaimed Barres. "I know and I'm telling you. Don't
+make any mistake: there's a girl who can make good!"
+
+"Oh. Is she a professional?"
+
+It was on the tip of Barres's tongue to say "Rather!" But he checked
+himself, not knowing Thessalie's wishes concerning details of her
+incognito.
+
+"Talk to her about it," he said, rising.
+
+The others laid aside cigars and followed him into the studio, where
+already the gramophone was going and Aristocrates and Selinda were
+rolling up the rugs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres and Dulcie danced until the music, twice revived, expired in
+husky dissonance, and a new disc was substituted by Westmore.
+
+"By heaven!" he said, "I'll dance this with my godchild or I'll murder
+you, Garry. Back up, there!--you soulless monopolist!" And Dulcie,
+half laughing, half vexed, was swept away in Westmore's vigorous arms,
+with a last, long, appealing look at Barres.
+
+The latter danced in turn with his feminine guests, as in duty
+bound--in pleasure bound, as far as concerned Thessalie.
+
+"And to think, to _think_," he repeated, "that you and I, who once
+trod the moonlit way, June-mad, moon-mad, should be dancing here
+together once more!"
+
+"Alas," she said, "though this is June again, moon and madness are
+lacking. So is the enchanted river and your canoe. And so is that gay
+heart of mine--that funny, careless little heart which was once my
+comrade, sending me into a happy gale of laughter every time it
+counselled me to folly."
+
+"What is the matter, Thessa?"
+
+"Garry, there is so much the matter that I don't know how to tell
+you.... And yet, I have nobody else to tell.... Is that maid of yours
+German?"
+
+"No, Finnish."
+
+"You can't be certain," she murmured. "Your guests are all American,
+are they not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And the little Soane girl? Are her sympathies with Germany?"
+
+"Why, certainly not! What gave you that idea, Thessa?"
+
+The music ran down; Westmore, the indefatigable, still keeping
+possession of Dulcie, went over to wind up the gramophone.
+
+"Isn't there some place where I could be alone with you for a few
+minutes?" whispered Thessalie.
+
+"There's a balcony under the middle window. It overlooks the court."
+
+She nodded and laid her hand on his arm, and they walked to the long
+window, opened it, and stepped out.
+
+Moonlight fell into the courtyard, silvering everything. Down there on
+the grass the Prophet sat, motionless as a black sphynx in the lustre
+of the moon.
+
+Thessalie looked down into the shadowy court, then turned and glanced
+up at the tiled roof just above them, where a chimney rose in
+silhouette against the pale radiance of the sky.
+
+Behind the chimney, flat on their stomachs, lay two men who had been
+watching, through an upper ventilating pane of glass, the scene in
+the brilliantly lighted studio below them.
+
+The men were Soane and his crony, the one-eyed pedlar. But neither
+Thessalie nor Barres could see them up there behind the chimney.
+
+Yet the girl, as though some unquiet instinct warned her, glanced up
+at the eaves above her head once more, and Barres looked up, too.
+
+"What do you see up there?" he inquired.
+
+"Nothing.... There could be nobody up there to listen, could there?"
+
+He laughed:
+
+"Who would want to climb up on the roof to spy on you or me----"
+
+"Don't speak so loud, Garry----"
+
+"What on earth is the trouble?"
+
+"The same trouble that drove me out of France," she said in a low
+voice. "Don't ask me what it was. All I can tell you is this: I am
+followed everywhere I go. I cannot make a living. Whenever I secure an
+engagement and return at the appointed time to fill it, something
+happens."
+
+"What happens?" he asked bluntly.
+
+"They repudiate the agreement," she said in a quiet voice. "They give
+no reasons; they simply tell me that they don't want me. Do you
+remember that evening when I left the Palace of Mirrors?"
+
+"Indeed, I do----"
+
+"That was only one example. I left with an excellent contract, signed.
+The next day, when I returned, the management took my contract out of
+my hands and tore it up."
+
+"What! Why, that's outrageous----"
+
+"Hush! That is only one instance. Everywhere it is the same. I am
+accepted after a try-out; then, without apparent reason, I am told
+not to return."
+
+"You mean there is some conspiracy----" he began incredulously, but
+she interrupted him with a white hand over his, nervously committing
+him to silence:
+
+"Listen, Garry! Men have followed me here from Europe. I am constantly
+watched in New York. I cannot shake off this surveillance for very
+long at a time. Sooner or later I become conscious again of curious
+eyes regarding me; of features that all at once become unpleasantly
+familiar in the throng. After several encounters in street or car or
+restaurant, I recognise these. Often and often instinct alone warns me
+that I am followed; sometimes I am so certain of it that I take pains
+to prove it."
+
+"Do you prove it?"
+
+"Usually."
+
+"Well, what the devil----"
+
+"Hush! I seem to be getting into deeper trouble than that, Garry. I
+have changed my residence so many, many times!--but every time
+people get into my room when I am away and ransack my effects.... And
+now I never enter my room unless the landlady is with me, or the
+janitor--especially after dark."
+
+"Good Lord!----"
+
+"Listen! I am not really frightened. It isn't fear, Garry. That word
+isn't in my creed, you know. But it bewilders me."
+
+"In the name of common sense," he demanded, "what reason has anybody
+to annoy you----"
+
+Her hand tightened on his:
+
+"If I only knew who these people are--whether they are agents of the
+Count d'Eblis or of the--the French Government! But I can't determine.
+They steal letters directed to me; they steal letters which I write
+and mail with my own hands. I wrote to you yesterday, because I--I
+felt I couldn't stand this persecution--any--longer----"
+
+Her voice became unsteady; she waited, gripping his hand, until
+self-control returned. When she was mistress of herself again, she
+forced a smile and her tense hand relaxed.
+
+"You know," she said, "it is most annoying to have my little
+love-letter to you intercepted."
+
+But his features remained very serious:
+
+"When did you mail that letter to me?"
+
+"Yesterday evening."
+
+"From where?"
+
+"From a hotel."
+
+He considered.
+
+"I ought to have had it this morning, Thessa. But the mails, lately,
+have been very irregular. There have been other delays. This is
+probably an example."
+
+"At latest," she said, "you should have my letter this evening."
+
+"Y-yes. But the evening is young yet."
+
+After a moment she drew a light sigh of relief, or perhaps of
+apprehension, he was not quite sure which.
+
+"But about this other matter--men following and annoying you," he
+began.
+
+"Not now, Garry. I can't talk about it now. Wait until we are sure
+about my letter----"
+
+"But, Thessa----"
+
+"Please! If you don't receive it before I leave, I shall come to you
+again and ask your aid and advice----"
+
+"Will you come _here_?"
+
+"Yes. Now take me in.... Because I am not quite certain about your
+maid--and perhaps one other person----"
+
+His expression of astonishment checked her for a moment, then the old
+irresistible laughter rang out sweetly in the moonlight.
+
+"Oh, Garry! It is funny, isn't it!--to be dogged and hunted day and
+night by a pack of shadows? If I only knew who casts them!"
+
+She took his arm gaily, with that little, courageous lifting of the
+head:
+
+"Allons! We shall dance again and defy the devil! And you may send
+your servant down to see whether my letter has arrived--not that maid
+with slanting eyes!--I have no confidence in her--but your marvellous
+major-domo, Garry----"
+
+Her smile was bright and untroubled as she stepped back into the
+studio, leaning on his arm.
+
+"You dear boy," she whispered, with the irresponsible undertone of
+laughter ringing in her voice, "thank you for bothering with my woes.
+I'll be rid of them soon, I hope, and then--perhaps--I'll lead you
+another dance along the moonlit way!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the roof, close to the chimney, the one-eyed man and Soane peered
+down into the studio through the smeared ventilator.
+
+In the studio Dulcie's first party was drawing to an early but jolly
+end.
+
+She had danced a dozen times with Barres, and her heart was full of
+sheerest happiness--the unreasoning bliss which asks no questions, is
+endowed with neither reason nor vision--the matchless delight which
+fills the candid, unquestioning heart of Youth.
+
+Nothing had marred her party for her, not even the importunity of Esme
+Trenor, which she had calmly disregarded as of no interest to her.
+
+True, for a few moments, while Barres and Thessalie were on the
+balcony outside, Dulcie had become a trifle subdued. But the wistful
+glances she kept casting toward the long window were free from meaner
+taint; neither jealousy nor envy had ever found lodging in the girl's
+mind or heart. There was no room to let them in now.
+
+Also, she was kept busy enough, one man after another claiming her for
+a dance. And she adored it--even with Trenor, who danced extremely
+well when he took the trouble. And he was taking it now with Dulcie;
+taking a different tone with her, too. For if it _were_ true, as some
+said, that Esme Trenor was three-quarters charlatan, he was no fool.
+And Dulcie began to find him entertaining to the point of a smile or
+two, as her spontaneous tribute to Esme's efforts.
+
+That languid apostle said afterward to Mandel, where they were
+lounging over the piano:
+
+"Little devil! She's got a mind of her own, and she knows it. I've had
+to make efforts, Corot!--efforts, if you please, to attract her mere
+attention. I'm exhausted!--never before had to make any efforts--never
+in my life!"
+
+Mandel's heavy-lidded eyes of a big bird rested on Dulcie, where she
+was seated. Her gaze was lifted to Barres, who bent over her in
+jesting conversation.
+
+Mandel, watching her, said to Esme:
+
+"I'm always ready to _train_--that sort of girl; always on the lookout
+for them. One discovers a specimen once or twice in a decade.... Two
+or three in a lifetime: that's all."
+
+"Train them?" repeated Esme, with an indolent smile. "Break them, you
+mean, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. The breaking, however, is usually mutual. However, that girl
+could go far under my direction."
+
+"Yes, she could go as far as hell."
+
+"I mean artistically," remarked Mandel, undisturbed.
+
+"As what, for example?"
+
+"As anything. After all, I _have_ flaire, even if it failed me this
+time. But _now_ I see. It's there, in her--what I'm always searching
+for."
+
+"What may that be, dear friend?"
+
+"What Westmore calls 'the goods.'"
+
+"And just what are they in her case?" inquired Esme, persistent as a
+stinging gnat around a pachyderm.
+
+"I don't know--a voice, maybe; maybe the dramatic instinct--genius as
+a dancer--who knows? All that is necessary is to discover it--whatever
+it may be--and then direct it."
+
+"Too late, O philanthropic Pasha!" remarked Esme with a slight sneer.
+"I'd be very glad to paint her, too, and become good friends with
+her--so would many an honest man, now that she's been discovered--but
+our friend Barres, yonder, isn't likely to encourage either you or me.
+So"--he shrugged, but his languid gaze remained on Dulcie--"so you and
+I had better kiss all hope good-bye and toddle home."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Westmore and Thessalie still danced together; Mrs. Helmund and Damaris
+were trying new steps in new dances, much interested, indulging in
+much merriment. Barres watched them casually, as he conversed with
+Dulcie, who, deep in an armchair, never took her eyes from his smiling
+face.
+
+"Now, Sweetness," he was saying, "it's early yet, I know, but your
+party ought to end, because you are coming to sit for me in the
+morning, and you and I ought to get plenty of sleep. If we don't, I
+shall have an unsteady hand, and you a pair of sleepy eyes. Come on,
+ducky!" He glanced across at the clock:
+
+"It's very early yet, I know," he repeated, "but you and I have had
+rather a long day of it. And it's been a very happy one, hasn't it,
+Dulcie?"
+
+As she smiled, the youthful soul of her itself seemed to be gazing up
+at him out of her enraptured eyes.
+
+"Fine!" he said, with deepest satisfaction. "Now, you'll put your hand
+on my arm and we'll go around and say good-night to everybody, and
+then I'll take you down stairs."
+
+So she rose and placed her hand lightly on his arm, and together
+they made her adieux to everybody, and everybody was cordially
+demonstrative in thanking her for her party.
+
+So he took her down stairs to her apartment, off the hall, noticing
+that neither Soane nor Miss Kurtz was on duty at the desk, as they
+passed, and that a pile of undistributed mail lay on the desk.
+
+"That's rotten," he said curtly. "Will you have to change your
+clothes, sort this mail, and sit here until the last mail is
+delivered?"
+
+"I don't mind," she said.
+
+"But I wanted you to go to sleep. Where is Miss Kurtz?"
+
+"It is her evening off."
+
+"Then your father ought to be here," he said, irritated, looking
+around the big, empty hallway.
+
+But Dulcie only smiled and held out her slim hand:
+
+"I couldn't sleep, anyway. I had really much rather sit here for a
+while and dream it all over again. Good-night.... Thank you--I can't
+say what I feel--but m-my heart is very faithful to you, Mr.
+Barres--will always be--while I am alive ... because you are my first
+friend."
+
+He stooped impulsively and touched her hair with his lips:
+
+"You dear child," he said, "I _am_ your friend."
+
+Halfway up the western staircase he called back:
+
+"Ring me up, Dulcie, when the last mail comes!"
+
+"I will," she nodded, almost blindly.
+
+Out of her lovely, abashed eyes she watched him mount the stairs, her
+cheeks a riot of surging colour. It was some few minutes after he was
+gone that she recollected herself, turned, and, slowly traversing the
+east corridor, entered her bedroom.
+
+Standing there in darkness, vaguely silvered by reflected moonlight,
+she heard through her door ajar the guests of the evening descending
+the western staircase; heard their gay adieux exchanged, distinguished
+Esme's impudent drawl, Westmore's lively accents, Mandel's voice, the
+easy laughter of Damaris, the smooth, affected tones of Mrs. Helmund.
+
+But Dulcie listened in vain for the voice which had haunted her ears
+since she had left the studio--the lovely voice of Thessalie Dunois.
+
+If this radiant young creature also had departed with the other
+guests, she had gone away in silence.... _Had_ she departed? Or was
+she still lingering upstairs in the studio for a little chat with the
+most wonderful man in the world?... A very, very beautiful girl....
+And the most wonderful man in the world. Why should they not linger
+for a little chat together after the others had departed?
+
+Dulcie sighed lightly, pensively, as one whose happiness lies in the
+happiness of others. To be a witness seemed enough for her.
+
+For a little while longer she remained standing there in the silvery
+dusk, quite motionless, thinking of Barres.
+
+The Prophet lay asleep, curled up on her bed; her alarm clock ticked
+noisily in the darkness, as though to mimic the loud, fast rhythm of
+her heart.
+
+At last, and as in a dream, she groped for a match, lighted the gas
+jet, and began to disrobe. Slowly, dreamily, she put from her slender
+body the magic garments of light--_his_ gift to her.
+
+But under these magic garments, clothing her newborn soul, remained
+the radiant rainbow robe of that new dawn into which this man had led
+her spirit. Did it matter, then, what dingy, outworn clothing covered
+her, outside?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Clad once more in her shabby, familiar clothes, and bedroom slippers,
+Dulcie opened the door of her dim room, and crept out into the
+whitewashed hall, moving as in a trance. And at her heels stalked the
+Prophet, softly, like a lithe shape that glides through dreams.
+
+Awaiting the last mail, seated behind the desk on the worn leather
+chair, she dropped her linked fingers into her lap, and gazed straight
+into an invisible world peopled with enchanting phantoms. And, little
+by little, they began to crowd her vision, throng all about her,
+laughing, rosy wraiths floating, drifting, whirling in an endless
+dance. Everywhere they were invading the big, silent hall, where the
+candle's grotesque shadows wavered across whitewashed wall and
+ceiling. Drowsily, now, she watched them play and sway around her. Her
+head drooped; she opened her eyes.
+
+The Prophet sat there, staring back at her out of depthless orbs of
+jade, in which all the wisdom and mysteries of the centuries seemed
+condensed and concentrated into a pair of living sparks.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+THE LAST MAIL
+
+
+The last mail had not yet arrived at Dragon Court.
+
+Five people awaited it--Dulcie Soane, behind the desk in the entrance
+hall, already wandering drowsily with Barres along the fairy
+borderland of sleep; Thessalie Dunois in Barres' studio, her
+rose-coloured evening cloak over her shoulders, her slippered foot
+tapping the dance-scarred parquet; Barres opposite, deep in his
+favourite armchair, chatting with her; Soane on the roof, half stupid
+with drink, watching them through the ventilator; and, lurking in the
+moonlit court, outside the office window, the dimly sinister figure of
+the one-eyed man. He wore a white handkerchief over his face, with a
+single hole cut in it. Through this hole his solitary optic was now
+fixed upon the back of Dulcie's drowsy head.
+
+As for the Prophet, perched on the desk top, he continued to gaze upon
+shapes invisible to all things mortal save only such as he.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The postman's lively whistle aroused Dulcie. The Prophet, knowing him,
+observed his advent with indifference.
+
+"Hello, girlie," he said;--he was a fresh-faced and flippant young
+man. "Where's Pop?" he added, depositing a loose sheaf of letters on
+the desk before her and sketching in a few jig steps with his feet.
+
+"I don't know," she murmured, patting with one slim hand her pink and
+yawning lips, and watching him unlock the post-box and collect the
+outgoing mail. He lingered a moment to caress the Prophet, who endured
+it without gratitude.
+
+"You better go to bed if you want to grow up to be a big, sassy girl
+some day," he advised Dulcie. "And hurry up about it, too, because I'm
+going to marry you if you behave." And, with a last affable caress for
+the Prophet, the young man went his way, singing to himself, and
+slamming the iron grille smartly behind him.
+
+Dulcie, rising from her chair, sorted the mail, sleepily tucking each
+letter and parcel into its proper pigeon-hole. There was a thick
+letter for Barres. This she held in her left hand, remembering his
+request that she call him up when the last mail arrived.
+
+This she now prepared to do--had already reseated herself, her right
+hand extended toward the telephone, when a shadow fell across the
+desk, and the Prophet turned, snarled, struck, and fled.
+
+At the same instant grimy fingers snatched at the letter which she
+still held in her left hand, twisted it almost free of her desperate
+clutch, tore it clean in two at one violent jerk, leaving her with
+half the letter still gripped in her clenched fist.
+
+She had not uttered a sound during the second's struggle. But
+instantly an ungovernable rage blazed up in her at the outrage, and
+she leaped clean over the desk and sprang at the throat of the
+one-eyed man.
+
+His neck was bony and muscular; she could not compass it with her
+slender hands, but she struck at it furiously, driving a sound out of
+his throat, half roar, half cough.
+
+"Give me my letter!" she breathed. "I'll kill you if you don't!" Her
+furious little hands caught his clenched fist, where the torn letter
+protruded, and she tore at it and beat upon it, her teeth set and her
+grey Irish eyes afire.
+
+Twice the one-eyed man flung her to her knees on the pavement, but she
+was up again and clinging to him before he could tear free of her.
+
+"My letter!" she gasped. "I shall kill you, I tell you--unless you
+return it!"
+
+His solitary yellow eye began to glare and glitter as he wrenched and
+dragged at her wrists and arms about him.
+
+"Schweinstueck!" he panted. "Let los, mioche de malheur! Eh! Los!--or I
+strike! No? Also! Attrape!--sale gallopin!----"
+
+His blow knocked her reeling across the hall. Against the whitewashed
+wall she collapsed to her knees, got up half stunned, the clang of the
+outer grille ringing in her very brain.
+
+With dazed eyes she gazed at the remnants of the torn letter, still
+crushed in her rigid fingers. Bright drops of blood from her mouth
+dripped slowly to the tessellated pavement.
+
+Reeling still from the shock of the blow, she managed to reach the
+outer door, and stood swaying there, striving to pierce with confused
+eyes the lamplit darkness of the street. There was no sign of the
+one-eyed man. Then she turned and made her way back to the desk,
+supporting herself with a hand along the wall.
+
+Waiting a few moments to control her breathing and her shaky limbs,
+she contrived finally to detach the receiver and call Barres. Over the
+wire she could hear the gramophone playing again in the studio.
+
+"Please may I come up?" she whispered.
+
+"Has the last mail come? Is there a letter for me?" he asked.
+
+"Yes ... I'll bring you w-what there is--if you'll let me?"
+
+"Thanks, Sweetness! Come right up!" And she heard him say: "It's
+probably your letter, Thessa. Dulcie is bringing it up."
+
+Her limbs and body were still quivering, and she felt very weak and
+tearful as she climbed the stairway to the corridor above.
+
+The nearer door of his apartment was open. Through it the music of the
+gramophone came gaily; and she went toward it and entered the
+brilliantly illuminated studio.
+
+Soane, who still lay flat on the roof overhead, peeping through the
+ventilator, saw her enter, all dishevelled, grasping in one hand the
+fragments of a letter. And the sight instantly sobered him. He tucked
+his shoes under one arm, got to his stockinged feet, made nimbly for
+the scuttle, and from there, descending by the service stair, ran
+through the courtyard into the empty hall.
+
+"Be gorry," he muttered, "thot dommed Dootchman has done it now!" And
+he pulled on his shoes, crammed his hat over his ears, and started
+east, on a run, for Grogan's.
+
+Grogan's was still the name of the Third Avenue saloon, though Grogan
+had been dead some years, and one Franz Lehr now presided within that
+palace of cherrywood, brass and pretzels.
+
+Into the family entrance fled Soane, down a dim hallway past several
+doors, from behind which sounded voices joining in guttural song; and
+came into a rear room.
+
+The one-eyed man sat there at a small table, piecing together
+fragments of a letter.
+
+"Arrah, then," cried Soane, "phwat th' devil did ye do, Max?"
+
+The man barely glanced at him.
+
+"Vy iss it," he enquired tranquilly, "you don'd vatch Nihla Quellen by
+dot wentilator some more?"
+
+"I axe ye," shouted Soane, "what t'hell ye done to Dulcie!"
+
+"Vat I haff done already yet?" queried the one-eyed man, not looking
+up, and continuing to piece together the torn letter. "Vell, I tell
+you, Soane; dot kid she keep dot letter in her handt, und I haff to
+grab it. Sacre saligaud de malheur! Dot letter she tear herself in
+two. Pas de chance! Your kid she iss mad like tigers! Voici--all zat
+rests me de la sacre-nom-de sacreminton de lettre----"
+
+"Ah, shut up, y'r Dootch head-cheese!--wid y'r gillipin' gallopin'
+gabble!" cut in Soane wrathfully. "D'ye mind phwat ye done? It's not
+petty larceny, ye omadhoun!--it's highway robbery ye done--bad cess to
+ye!"
+
+The one-eyed man shrugged:
+
+"Pourtant, I must haff dot letter----" he observed, undisturbed by
+Soane's anger; but Soane cut him short again fiercely:
+
+"You an' y'r dommed letter! Phwat do you care if I'm fired f'r this
+night's wurruk? Y'r letter, is it? An' what about highway robbery, me
+bucko! An' me off me post! How'll I be explaining that? Ah, ye sicken
+me entirely, ye Dootch square-head! Now, phwat'll I say to them? Tell
+me that, Max Freund! Phwat'll I tell th' aygent whin he comes runnin'?
+Phwat'll I tell th' po-lice? Arrah, phwat't'hell do you care,
+anyway?" he shouted. "I've a mind f'r to knock the block off ye----"
+
+"You shall say to dot agent you haff gone out to smell," remarked Max
+Freund placidly.
+
+"Smell, is it? Smell what, ye dom----"
+
+"You smell some smoke. You haff fear of fire. You go out to see. Das
+iss so simble, ach! Take shame, you Irish Sinn Fein! You behave like
+rabbits!" He pointed to his arrangement of the torn letter on the
+table: "Here iss sufficient already--regardez! Look once!" He laid one
+long, soiled and bony finger on the fragments: "Read it vat iss
+written!"
+
+"G'wan, now!"
+
+"I tell you, read!"
+
+Soane, still cursing under his breath, bent over the table, reading as
+Freund's soiled finger moved:
+
+"Fein plots," he read. "German agents ... disloyal propa ... explo ...
+bomb fac ... shipping munitions to ... arms for Ireland can be ...
+destruction of interned German li ... disloyal newspapers which ...
+controlled by us in Pari ... Ferez Bey ... bankers are duped.... I
+need your advi ... hounded day and ni ... d'Eblis or Govern ... not
+afraid of death but indignant ... Sinn Fei----"
+
+Soane's scowl had altered, and a deeper red stained his brow and
+neck.
+
+"Well, by God!" he muttered, jerking up a chair from behind him and
+seating himself at the table, but never taking his fascinated eyes off
+the torn bits of written paper.
+
+Presently Freund got up and went out. He returned in a few moments
+with a large sheet of wrapping paper and a pot of mucilage. On this
+paper, with great care, he arranged the pieces of the torn letter,
+neatly gumming each bit and leaving a space between it and the next
+fragment.
+
+"To fill in iss the job of Louis Sendelbeck," remarked Freund, pasting
+away industriously. "Is it not time we learn how much she knows--this
+Nihla Quellen? Iss she sly like mice? I ask it."
+
+Soane scratched his curly head.
+
+"Be gorry," he said, "av that purty girrl is a Frinch spy she don't
+look the parrt, Max."
+
+Freund waved one unclean hand:
+
+"Vas iss it to look like somedings? Nodding! Also, you Sinn Fein Irish
+talk too much. Why iss it in Belfast you march mit drums und music? To
+hold our tongues und vatch vat iss we Germans learn already first!
+Also! Sendelbeck shall haff his letter."
+
+"An' phwat d'ye mean to do with that girrl, Max?"
+
+"Vatch her! Vy you don'd go back by dot wentilator already?"
+
+"Me? Faith, I'm done f'r th' evenin', an' I thank God I wasn't pinched
+on the leads!"
+
+"Vait I catch dot Nihla somevares," muttered Freund, regarding his
+handiwork.
+
+"Ye'll do no dirty thrick to her? Th' Sinn Fein will shtand f'r no
+burkin', mind that!"
+
+"Ach, wass!" grunted Freund; "iss it your business vat iss done to
+somebody by Ferez? If you Irish vant your rifles und machine guns,
+leaf it to us Germans und dond speak nonsense aboud nodding!" He
+leaned over and pushed a greasy electric button: "Now ve drink a glass
+bier. Und after, you go home und vatch dot girl some more."
+
+"Av Misther Barres an' th' yoong lady makes a holler, they'll fire me
+f'r this," snarled Soane.
+
+"Sei ruhig, mon vieux! Nihla Quellen keeps like a mouse quiet! Und she
+keeps dot yoong man quiet! You see! No, no! Not for Nihla to make
+some foolishness und publicity. French agents iss vatching for her
+too--l'affaire du _Mot d'Ordre_. She iss vat you say, 'in Dutch'! Iss
+she, vielleicht, a German spy? In France they believe it. Iss she a
+French spy? Ach! Possibly some day; not yet! And it iss for us Germans
+to know always vat she iss about. Dot iss my affair, not yours,
+Soane."
+
+A heavy jowled man in a soiled apron brought two big mugs of beer and
+retired on felt-slippered feet.
+
+"Hoch!" grunted Freund, burying his nose in his frothing mug.
+
+Soane, wasting no words, drank thirstily. After a long pull he shoved
+aside his sloppy stein, rose, cautiously unlatched the shutter of a
+tiny peep-hole in the wall, and applied one eye to it.
+
+"Bad luck!" he muttered, "there do be wan av thim secret service lads
+drinkin' at the bar! I'll not go home yet, Max."
+
+"Dot big vone?" inquired Freund, mildly interested.
+
+"That's the buck! Him wid th' phony whiskers an' th' Dootch get-up!"
+
+"Vell, vot off it? Can he do somedings?"
+
+"And how should I know phwat that lad can do to th' likes o' me, or
+phwat the divil brings him here at all, at all! Sure, he's been around
+these three nights running----"
+
+Freund laughed his contempt for all things American, including police
+and secret service, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
+
+"Look, once, Soane! Do these Yankees know vat it iss a police, a
+gendarme, a military intelligence? Vat they call secret service, wass
+iss it? I ask it? Schweinerei! Dummheit? Fantoches! Imbeciles! Of the
+Treasury they haff a secret service; of the Justice Department also
+another; and another of the Army, and yet another of the Posts! Vot
+kind of foolish system iss it?--mitout no minister, no chef, no
+centre, no head, no organisation--und everybody interfering in vot
+efferybody iss doing und nobody knowing vot nobody is doing--ach wass!
+Je m'en moque--I make mock myself at dot secret service which iss too
+dam dumm!" He yawned. "Trop bete," he added indistinctly.
+
+Soane, reassured, lowered the shutter, came back to the table, and
+finished his beer with loud gulps.
+
+"Lave us go up to the lodge till he goes out," he suggested. "Maybe
+th' boys have news o' thim rifles."
+
+Freund yawned again, nodded, and rose, and they went out to an
+unlighted and ill-smelling back stairway. It was so narrow that they
+had to ascend in single file.
+
+Half way up they set off a hidden bell, by treading on some concealed
+button under foot; and a man, dressed only in undershirt and trousers,
+appeared at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against a bright light
+burning on the wall behind him.
+
+"Oh, all right," he said, recognising them, and turned on his heel
+carelessly, pocketing a black-jack.
+
+They followed to a closed door, which was made out of iron and painted
+like quartered oak. In the wall on their right a small shutter slid
+back noiselessly, then was closed without a sound; and the iron door
+opened very gently in their faces.
+
+The room they entered was stifling--all windows being closed--in
+spite of a pair of electric fans whirling and droning on shelves. Some
+perspiring Germans were playing skat over in a corner. One or two
+other men lounged about a centre table, reading Irish and German
+newspapers published in New York, Chicago, and Milwaukee. There
+were also on file there copies of the _Evening Mail_, the _Evening
+Post_, a Chicago paper, and a pile of magazines, including numbers
+of _Pearson's_, _The Fatherland_, _The Masses_, and similar
+publications.
+
+Two lithograph portraits hung side by side over the fireplace--Robert
+Emmet and Kaiser Wilhelm II. Otherwise, the art gallery included
+photographs of Von Hindenburg, Von Bissing, and the King of Greece.
+
+A large map, on which the battle-line in Europe had been pricked out
+in red pins, hung on the wall. Also a map of New York City, on a very
+large scale; another map of New York State; and a map of Ireland. A
+dumb-waiter, on duty and astonishingly noiseless, slid into sight,
+carrying half a dozen steins of beer and some cheese sandwiches, just
+as Soane and Freund entered the room, and the silent iron door closed
+behind them of its own accord and without any audible click.
+
+The man who had met them on the stairs, in undershirt and trousers,
+went over to the dumb-waiter, scribbled something on a slate which
+hung inside the shelf, set the beer and sandwiches beside the skat
+players, and returned to seat himself at the table to which Freund and
+Soane had pulled up cane-bottomed chairs.
+
+"Well," he said, in rather a pleasant voice, "did you get that letter,
+Max?"
+
+Freund nodded and leisurely sketched in the episode at Dragon Court.
+
+The man, whose name was Franz Lehr, and who had been born in New York
+of German parents, listened with lively interest to the narrative. But
+he whistled softly when it ended:
+
+"You took a few chances, Max," he remarked. "It's all right, of
+course, because you got away with it, but----" He whistled again,
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Sendelbeck must haff his letter. Yess? Also!"
+
+"Certainly. I guess that was the only way--if she was really going to
+take it up to young Barres. And I guess you're right when you conclude
+that Nihla won't make any noise about it and won't let her friend,
+Barres, either."
+
+"Sure, I'm right," grunted Freund. "We got the goots on her now. You
+bet she's scared. You tell Ferez--yess?"
+
+"Don't worry; he'll hear it all. You got that letter on you?"
+
+Freund nodded.
+
+"Hand it to Hochstein"--he half turned on his rickety chair and
+addressed a squat, bushy-haired man with very black eyebrows and
+large, angry blue eyes--"Louis, Max got that letter you saw Nihla
+writing in the Hotel Astor. Here it is----" taking the pasted
+fragments from Freund and passing them over to Hochstein. "Give it to
+Sendelbeck, along with the blotter you swiped after she left the
+writing room. Dave Sendelbeck ought to fix it up all right for Ferez
+Bey."
+
+Hochstein nodded, shoved the folded brown paper into his pocket, and
+resumed his cards.
+
+"Is thim rifles----" began Soane; but Lehr laid a hand on his
+shoulder:
+
+"Now, listen! They're on the way to Ireland now. I told you that. When
+I hear they're landed I'll let you know. You Sinn Feiners don't
+understand how to wait. If things don't happen the way you want and
+when you want, you all go up in the air!"
+
+"An' how manny hundred years would ye have us wait f'r to free th'
+ould sod!" retorted Soane.
+
+"You'll not free it with your mouth," retorted Lehr. "No, nor by
+drilling with banners and arms in Cork and Belfast, and parading all
+over the place!"
+
+"Is--that--so!"
+
+"You bet it's so! The way to make England sick is to stick her in the
+back, not make faces at her across the Irish Channel. If your friends
+in the Clan-na-Gael, and your poets and professors who call themselves
+Sinn Feiners, will quit their childish circus playing and trust us,
+we'll show you how to make the Lion yowl."
+
+"Ah, bombs an' fires an' shtrikes is all right, too. An' proppygandy
+is fine as far as it goes. But the Clan-na-Gael is all afire f'r to
+start the shindy in Ireland----"
+
+"You start it," interrupted Lehr, "before you're really ready, and
+you'll see where it lands the Clan-na-Gael and the Sinn Fein! I tell
+you to leave it to Berlin!"
+
+"An' I tell ye lave it to the Clan-na-Gael!" retorted Soane,
+excitedly. "Musha----"
+
+"For why you yell?" yawned Freund, displaying a very yellow fang. "Dot
+big secret service slob, he iss in the bar hinunter. Perhaps he hear
+you if like a pig you push forth cries."
+
+Lehr raised his eyebrows; then, carelessly:
+
+"He's only a State agent. Johnny Klein is keeping an eye on him. What
+does that big piece of cheese expect to get by hanging out in my
+bar?"
+
+Freund yawned again, appallingly; Soane said:
+
+"I wonder is that purty Frinch girrl agin us Irish?"
+
+"What does she care about the Irish?" replied Lehr. "Her danger to us
+lies in the fact that she may blab about Ferez to some Frenchman, and
+that he may believe her in spite of all the proof they have in Paris
+against her. Max," he added, turning to Freund, "it's funny that Ferez
+doesn't do something to her."
+
+"I haff no orders."
+
+"Maybe you'll get 'em when Ferez reads that letter. He's certainly
+not going to let that girl go about blabbing and writing letters----"
+
+Soane struck the table with doubled fist:
+
+"Ye'll do no vi'lence to anny wan!" he cut in. "The Sinn Fein will
+shtand for no dirrty wurruk in America! Av you set fires an' blow up
+plants, an' kidnap ladies, an' do murther, g'wan, ye Dootch
+scuts!--it's your business, God help us!--not ours.
+
+"All we axe of ye is machine-goons, an' rifles, an' ships to land
+them; an' av ye don't like it, phway th' divil d'ye come botherin' th'
+likes of us Irish wid y'r proppygandy! Sorra the day," he added, "I
+tuk up wid anny Dootchman at all at all----"
+
+Lehr and Freund exchanged expressionless glances. The former dropped a
+propitiating hand on Soane's shoulder.
+
+"Can it," he said good-humouredly. "We're trying to help you Irish to
+what you want. You want Irish independence, don't you? All right.
+We're going to help you get it----"
+
+A bell rang; Lehr sprang to his feet and hastened out through the iron
+door, drawing his black-jack from his hip pocket as he went.
+
+He returned in a few moments, followed by a very good-looking but
+pallid man in rather careless evening dress, who had the dark eyes of
+a dreamer and the delicate features of a youthful acolyte.
+
+He saluted the company with a peculiarly graceful gesture, which
+recognition even the gross creatures at the skat table returned with
+visible respect.
+
+Soane, always deeply impressed by the presence of Murtagh Skeel,
+offered his chair and drew another one to the table.
+
+Skeel accepted with a gently preoccupied smile, and seated himself
+gracefully. All that is chivalrous, romantic, courteous, and brave in
+an Irishman seemed to be visibly embodied in this pale man.
+
+"I have just come," he said, "from a dinner at Sherry's. A common
+hatred of England brought together the dozen odd men with whom I have
+been in conference. Ferez Bey was there, the military attaches of the
+German, Austrian, and Turkish embassies, one or two bankers, officials
+of certain steamship lines, and a United States senator."
+
+He sipped a glass of plain water which Lehr had brought him, thanked
+him, then turning from Soane to Lehr:
+
+"To get arms and munitions into Ireland in substantial quantities
+requires something besides the U-boats which Germany seems willing to
+offer.
+
+"That was fully discussed to-night. Not that I have any doubt at all
+that Sir Roger will do his part skilfully and fearlessly----"
+
+"He will that!" exclaimed Soane, "God bless him!"
+
+"Amen, Soane," said Murtagh Skeel, with a wistful and involuntary
+upward glance from his dark eyes. Then he laid his hand of an
+aristocrat on Soane's shoulder. "What I came here to tell you is this:
+I want a ship's crew."
+
+"Sorr?"
+
+"I want a crew ready to mutiny at a signal from me and take over their
+own ship on the high seas."
+
+"Their own ship, sorr?"
+
+"Their own ship. That is what has been decided. The ship to be
+selected will be a fast steamer loaded with arms and munitions for the
+British Government. The Sinn Fein and the Clan-na-Gael, between them,
+are to assemble the crew. I shall be one of that crew. Through
+powerful friends, enemies to England, it will be made possible to
+sign such a crew and put it aboard the steamer to be seized.
+
+"Her officers will, of course, be British. And I am afraid there may
+be a gun crew aboard. But that is nothing. We shall take her over when
+the time comes--probably off the Irish coast at night. Now, Soane, and
+you, Lehr, I want you to help recruit a picked crew, all Irish, all
+Sinn Feiners or members of the Clan-na-Gael.
+
+"You know the sort. Absolutely reliable, fearless, and skilled men
+devoted soul and body to the cause for which we all would so
+cheerfully die.... Will you do it?"
+
+There was a silence. Soane moistened his lips reflectively. Lehr,
+intelligent, profoundly interested, kept his keen, pleasant eyes on
+Murtagh Skeel. Only the droning electric fans, the rattle of a
+newspaper, the slap of greasy cards at the skat table, the slobbering
+gulp of some Teuton, guzzling beer, interrupted the sweltering quiet
+of the room.
+
+"Misther Murtagh, sorr," said Soane with a light, careless laugh,
+"I've wan recruit f'r to bring ye."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"Sure, it's meself, sorr--av ye'll sign the likes o' me."
+
+"Thanks; of course," said Skeel, with one of his rare smiles, and
+taking Soane's hand in comradeship.
+
+"I'll go," said Lehr, coolly; "but my name won't do. Call me Grogan,
+if you like, and I'll sign with you, Mr. Skeel."
+
+Skeel pressed the offered hand:
+
+"A splendid beginning," he said. "I wanted you both. Now, see what you
+can do in the Sinn Fein and Clan-na-Gael for a crew which, please God,
+we shall require very soon!"
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+A MIDNIGHT TETE-A-TETE
+
+
+When Dulcie had entered the studio that evening, her white face
+smeared with blood and a torn letter clutched in her hand, the
+gramophone was playing a lively two-step, and Barres and Thessalie
+Dunois were dancing there in the big, brilliantly lighted studio, all
+by themselves.
+
+Thessalie caught sight of Dulcie over Barres's shoulder, hastily
+slipped out of his arms, and hurried across the polished floor.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked breathlessly, a fearful intuition
+already enlightening her as her startled glance travelled from the
+blood on Dulcie's face to the torn fragments of paper in her rigidly
+doubled fingers.
+
+Barres, coming up at the same moment, slipped a firm arm around
+Dulcie's shoulders.
+
+"Are you badly hurt, dear? What has happened?" he asked very quietly.
+
+She looked up at him, mute, her bruised mouth quivering, and held out
+the remains of the letter. And Thessalie Dunois caught her breath
+sharply as her eyes fell on the bits of paper covered with her own
+handwriting.
+
+"There was a man hiding in the court," said Dulcie. "He wore a white
+cloth over his face and he came up behind me and tried to snatch your
+letter out of my hand; but I held fast and he only tore it in two."
+
+Barres stared at the sheaf of torn paper, lying crumpled up in his
+open hand, then his amazed gaze rested on Thessalie:
+
+"Is this the letter you wrote to me?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes. May I have the remains of my letter?" she asked calmly.
+
+He handed over the bits of paper without a word, and she opened her
+gold-mesh bag and dropped them in.
+
+There was a moment's silence, then Barres said:
+
+"Did he strike you, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes, when he thought he couldn't get away from me."
+
+"You hung on to him?"
+
+"I tried to."
+
+Thessalie stepped closer, impulsively, and framed Dulcie's pallid,
+blood-smeared face in both of her cool, white hands.
+
+"He has cut your lower lip inside," she said. And, to Barres: "Could
+you get something to bathe it?"
+
+Barres went away to his own room. When he returned with a finger-bowl
+full of warm water, some powdered boric acid, cotton, and a soft
+towel, Dulcie was lying deep in an armchair, her lids closed; and
+Thessalie sat beside her on one of the padded arms, smoothing the
+ruddy, curly hair from her forehead.
+
+She opened her eyes when Barres appeared, giving him a clear but
+inscrutable look. Thessalie gently washed the traces of battle from
+her face, then rinsed her lacerated mouth very tenderly.
+
+"It is just a little cut," she said. "Your lip is a trifle swelled."
+
+"It is nothing," murmured Dulcie.
+
+"Do you feel all right?" inquired Barres anxiously.
+
+"I feel sleepy." She sat erect, always with her grey eyes on Barres.
+"I think I will go to bed." She stood up, conscious, now, of her
+shabby clothes and slippers; and there was a painful flush on her face
+as she thanked Thessalie and bade her a confused good-night.
+
+But Thessalie took the girl's hand and retained it.
+
+"Please don't say anything about what happened," she said. "May I ask
+it of you as a very great favour?"
+
+Dulcie turned her eyes on Barres in silent appeal for guidance.
+
+"Do you mind not saying anything about this affair," he asked, "as
+long as Miss Dunois wishes it?"
+
+"Should I not tell my father?"
+
+"Not even to him," replied Thessalie gently. "Because it won't ever
+happen again. I am very certain of that. Will you trust my word?"
+
+Again Dulcie looked at Barres, who nodded.
+
+"I promise never to speak of it," she said in a low, serious voice.
+
+Barres took her down stairs. At the desk she pointed out, at his
+request, the scene of recent action. Little by little he discovered,
+by questioning her, what a dogged battle she had fought there alone in
+the whitewashed corridor.
+
+"Why didn't you call for help?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know.... I didn't think of it. And when he got away I was
+dizzy from the blow."
+
+At her bedroom door he took both her hands in his. The gas-jet was
+still burning in her room. On the bed lay her pretty evening dress.
+
+"I'm so glad," she remarked naively, "that I had on my old clothes."
+
+He smiled, drew her to him, and lightly smoothed the thick, bright
+hair from her brow.
+
+"You know," he said, "I am becoming very fond of you, Dulcie. You're
+such a splendid girl in every way.... We'll always remain firm
+friends, won't we?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And in perplexity and trouble I want you to feel that you can always
+come to me. Because--you do like me, don't you, Dulcie?"
+
+For a moment or two she sustained his smiling, questioning gaze, then
+laid her cheek lightly against his hands, which still held both of
+hers imprisoned. And for one exquisite instant of spiritual surrender
+her grey eyes closed. Then she straightened herself up; he released
+her hands; she turned slowly and entered her room, closing the door
+very gently behind her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the studio above, Thessalie, still wearing her rose-coloured cloak,
+sat awaiting him by the window.
+
+He crossed the studio, dropped onto the lounge beside her, and lighted
+a cigarette. Neither spoke for a few moments. Then he said:
+
+"Thessa, don't you think you had better tell me something about this
+ugly business which seems to involve you?"
+
+"I can't, Garry."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I shall not take the risk of dragging you in."
+
+"Who are these people who seem to be hounding you?"
+
+"I can't tell you."
+
+"You trust me, don't you?"
+
+She nodded, her face partly averted:
+
+"It isn't that. And I had meant to tell you something concerning this
+matter--tell you just enough so that I might ask your advice. In fact,
+that is what I wrote you in that letter--being rather scared and
+desperate.... But half my letter to you has been stolen. The people
+who stole it are clever enough to piece it out and fill in what is
+missing----"
+
+She turned impulsively and took his hands between her own. Her face
+had grown quite white.
+
+"How much harm have I done to you, Garry? Have I already involved you
+by writing as much as I did write? I have been wondering.... I
+couldn't bear to bring anything like that into your life----"
+
+"Anything like what?" he asked bluntly. "Why don't you tell me,
+Thessa?"
+
+"No. It's too complicated--too terrible. There are elements in it that
+would shock and disgust you.... And perhaps you would not believe
+me----"
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"The Government of a great European Power does not believe me to be
+honest!" she said very quietly. "Why should you?"
+
+"Because I know you."
+
+She smiled faintly:
+
+"You're such a dear," she murmured. "But you talk like a boy. What do
+you really know about me? We have met just three times in our entire
+lives. Do any of those encounters really enlighten you? If you were a
+business man in a responsible position, could you honestly vouch for
+me?"
+
+"Don't you credit me with common sense?" he insisted warmly.
+
+She laughed:
+
+"No, Garry, dear, not with very much. Even I have more than you, and
+that is saying very little. We are inclined to be irresponsible, you
+and I--inclined to take the world lightly, inclined to laugh, inclined
+to tread the moonlit way! No, Garry, neither you nor I possess very
+much of that worldly caution born of hardened wisdom and sharpened
+wits."
+
+She smiled almost tenderly at him and pressed his hands between her
+own.
+
+"If I had been worldly wise," she said, "I should never have danced my
+way to America through summer moonlight with you. If I had been wiser
+still, I should not now be an exile, my political guilt established,
+myself marked for destruction by a great European Power the instant I
+dare set foot on its soil."
+
+"I supposed your trouble to be political," he nodded.
+
+"Yes, it is." She sighed, looked at him with a weary little smile.
+"But, Garry, I am not guilty of being what that nation believes me to
+be."
+
+"I am very sure of it," he said gravely.
+
+"Yes, you would be. You'd believe in me anyway, even with the terrible
+evidence against me.... I don't suppose you'd think me guilty if I
+tell you that I am not--in spite of what they might say about
+me--might prove, apparently."
+
+She withdrew her hands, clasped them, her gaze lost in retrospection
+for a few moments. Then, coming to herself with a gesture of infinite
+weariness:
+
+"There is no use, Garry. I should never be believed. There are those
+who, base enough to entrap me, now are preparing to destroy me because
+they are cowardly enough to be afraid of me while I am alive. Yes,
+trapped, exiled, utterly discredited as I am to-day, they are still
+afraid of me."
+
+"Who are you, Thessa?" he asked, deeply disturbed.
+
+"I am what you first saw me--a dancer, Garry, and nothing worse."
+
+"It seems strange that a European Government should desire your
+destruction," he said.
+
+"If I really were what this Government believes me to be, it would not
+seem strange to you."
+
+She sat thinking, worrying her under lip with delicate white teeth;
+then:
+
+"Garry, do you believe that your country is going to be drawn into
+this war?"
+
+"I don't know what to think," he said bitterly. "The _Lusitania_ ought
+to have meant war between us and Germany. Every brutal Teutonic
+disregard of decency since then ought to have meant war--every unarmed
+ship sunk by their U-boats, every outrage in America perpetrated by
+their spies and agents ought to have meant war. I don't know how much
+more this Administration will force us to endure--what further
+flagrant insult Germany means to offer. They've answered the
+President's last note by canning Von Tirpitz and promising,
+conditionally, to sink no more unarmed ships without warning. But they
+all are liars, the Huns. So that's the way matters stand, Thessa, and
+I haven't the slightest idea of what is going to happen to my
+humiliated country."
+
+"Why does not your country prepare?" she asked.
+
+"God knows why. Washington doesn't believe in it, I suppose."
+
+"You should build ships," she said. "You should prepare plans for
+calling out your young men."
+
+He nodded indifferently:
+
+"There was a preparedness parade. I marched in it. But it only
+irritated Washington. Now, finally, the latest Mexican insult is
+penetrating official stupidity, and we are mobilising our State
+Guardsmen for service on the border. And that's about all we are
+doing. We are making neither guns nor rifles; we are building no
+ships; the increase in our regular army is of little account; some of
+the most vital of the great national departments are presided over by
+rogues, clowns, and fools--pacifists all!--stupid, dull, grotesque and
+impotent. And you ask me what my country is going to do. And I tell
+you that I don't know. For real Americans, Thessa, these last two
+years have been years of shame. For we should have armed and mobilised
+when the first rifle-shot cracked across the Belgian frontier at
+Longwy; and we should have declared war when the first Hun set his
+filthy hoof on Belgian soil.
+
+"In our hearts we real Americans know it. But we had no leader--nobody
+of faith, conviction, vision, action, to do what was the only thing to
+do. No; we had only talkers to face the supreme crisis of the
+world--only the shallow noise of words was heard in answer to God's
+own summons warning all mankind that hell's deluge was at hand."
+
+The intense bitterness of what he said had made her very grave. She
+listened silently, intent on his every expression. And when he ended
+with a gesture of hopelessness and disgust, she sat gazing at him out
+of her lovely dark eyes, deep in reflection.
+
+"Garry," she said at length, "do you know anything about the European
+systems of intelligence?"
+
+"No--only what I read in novels."
+
+"Do you know that America, to-day, is fairly crawling with German
+spies?"
+
+"I suppose there are some here."
+
+"There are a hundred thousand paid German spies within an hour's
+journey of this city."
+
+He looked up incredulously.
+
+"Let me tell you," she said, "how it is arranged here. The German
+Ambassador is the master spy in America. Under his immediate
+supervision are the so-called diplomatic agents--the personnel of the
+embassy and members of the consular service. These people do not
+class themselves as agents or as spies; they are the directors of
+spies and agents.
+
+"Agents gather information from spies who perform the direct work of
+investigating. Spies usually work alone and report, through local
+agents, to consular or diplomatic agents. And these, in turn, report
+to the Ambassador, who reports to Berlin.
+
+"It is all directed from Berlin. The personal source of all German
+espionage is the Kaiser. He is the supreme master spy."
+
+"Where have you learned these things, Thessa?" he asked in a troubled
+voice.
+
+"I have learned, Garry."
+
+"Are you--a spy?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you been?"
+
+"No, Garry."
+
+"Then how----"
+
+"Don't ask me; just listen. There are men here in your city who are
+here for no good purpose. I do not mean to say that merely because
+they seek also to injure me--destroy me, perhaps,--God knows what they
+wish to do to me!--but I say it because I believe that your country
+will declare war on Germany some day very soon. And that you ought to
+watch these spies who move everywhere among you!
+
+"Germany also believes that war is near. And this is why she strives
+to embroil your country with Japan and Mexico. That is why she
+discredits you with Holland, with Sweden. It is why she instructs her
+spies here to set fires in factories and on ships, blow up powder
+mills and great industrial plants which are manufacturing munitions
+for the Allies of the Triple Entente.
+
+"America may doubt that there is to be war between her and Germany,
+but Germany does not doubt it.
+
+"Let me tell you what else Germany is doing. She is spreading
+insidious propaganda through a million disloyal Germans and pacifist
+Americans, striving to poison the minds of your people against
+England. She secretly buys, owns, controls newspapers which are used
+as vehicles for that propaganda.
+
+"She is debauching the Irish here who are discontented with England's
+rule; she spends vast sums of money in teaching treachery in your
+schools, in arousing suspicion among farmers, in subsidising
+mercantile firms.
+
+"Garry, I tell you that a Hun is always a Hun; a Boche is always a
+Boche, call him what else you will.
+
+"The Germans are the monkeys of the world; they have imitated the
+human race. But, Garry, they are still what they always have been at
+heart, barbarians who have no business in Europe.
+
+"In their hearts--and for all their priests and clergymen and
+cathedrals and churches--they still believe in their old gods which
+they themselves created--fierce, bestial supermen, more cruel, more
+powerful, more treacherous, more beastly than they themselves.
+
+"That is the German. That is the Hun under all his disguises. No white
+man can meet him on his own ground; no white man can understand him,
+appeal to anything in common between himself and the Boche. He is
+brutal and contemptuous to women; he is tyrannical to the weak,
+cringing to the strong, fundamentally bestial, utterly selfish,
+intolerant of any civilisation which is not his conception of
+civilisation--his monkey-like conception of Christ--whom, in his pagan
+soul, he secretly sneers at--not always secretly, now!"
+
+She straightened up with a quick little gesture of contempt. Her face
+was brightly flushed; her eyes brilliant with scorn.
+
+"Garry, has not America heard enough of 'the good German,' the 'kindly
+Teuton,' the harmless, sentimental and 'excellent citizen,' whose
+morally edifying origin as a model emigrant came out of his own sly
+mouth, and who has, by his own propaganda alone, become an accepted
+type of good-natured thrift and erudition in your Republic?
+
+"Let me say to you what a French girl thinks! A hundred years ago you
+were a very small nation, but you were homogeneous and the average of
+culture was far higher in America then than it is at present. For now,
+your people's cultivation and civilisation is diluted by the ignorance
+of millions of foreigners to whom you have given hospitality. And, of
+these, the Germans have done you the most deadly injury, vulgarising
+public taste in art and literature, affronting your clean, sane
+intelligence by the new decadence and perversion in music, in
+painting, in illustration, in fiction.
+
+"Whatever the normal Hun touches he vulgarises; whatever the decadent
+Boche touches he soils and degrades and transforms into a horrible
+abomination. This he has done under your eyes in art, in literature,
+in architecture, in modern German music.
+
+"His filthy touch is even on your domestic life--this Barbarian who
+feeds grossly, whose personal habits are a by-word among civilised and
+cultured people, whose raw ferocity is being now revealed to the world
+day by day in Europe, whose proverbial clumsiness and stupidity have
+long furnished your stage with its oafs and clowns.
+
+"This is the thing that is now also invading you with thousands of
+spies, betraying you with millions of traitors, and which will one
+day turn on you and tear you and trample you like an enraged hog,
+unless you and your people awake to what is passing in the world you
+live in!"
+
+She was on her feet now, flushed, lovely, superb in her deep and
+controlled excitement.
+
+"I'll tell you this much," she said. "It is Germany that wishes my
+destruction. Germany trapped me; Germany would have destroyed me in
+the trap had I not escaped. Now, Germany is afraid of me, knowing what
+I know. And her agents follow me, spy on me, thwart me, prevent me
+from earning my living, until I--I can scarcely endure it--this
+hounding and persecution----" Her voice broke; she waited to control
+it:
+
+"I am not a spy. I never was one. I never betrayed a human soul--no,
+nor any living thing that ever trusted me! These people who hound me
+know that I am not guilty of that for which another Government is
+ready to try me--and condemn me. They fear that I shall prove to this
+other Government my innocence. I can't. But they fear I can. And the
+Hun is afraid of me. Because, if I ever proved my innocence, it would
+involve the arrest and trial and certain execution of men high in rank
+in the capital of this other country. So--the Hun dogs me everywhere I
+go. I do not know why he does not try to kill me. Possibly he lacks
+courage, so far. Possibly he has not had any good opportunity, because
+I am very careful, Garry."
+
+"But this--this is outrageous!" broke out Barres. "You can't stand
+this sort of thing, Thessa! It's a matter for the police----"
+
+"Don't interfere!"
+
+"But----"
+
+"Don't interfere! The last thing I want is publicity. The last thing I
+wish for is that your city, state, or national government should
+notice me at all or have any curiosity concerning me or any idea of
+investigating my affairs."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because, although as soon as your country is at war with Germany, my
+danger from Germany ceases, on the other hand another very deadly
+danger begins at once to threaten me."
+
+"What danger?"
+
+"It will come from a country with which your country will be allied.
+And I shall be arrested here as a _German_ spy, and I shall be sent
+back to the country which I am supposed to have betrayed. And there
+nothing in the world could save me."
+
+"You mean--court-martial?"
+
+"A brief one, Garry. And then the end."
+
+"Death?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+After a few moments she moved toward the door. He went with her,
+picking up his hat.
+
+"I can't let you go with me," she said with a faint smile.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You are involved sufficiently already."
+
+"What do I care for----"
+
+"Hush, Garry. Do you wish to displease me?"
+
+"No, but I----"
+
+"Please! Call me a taxicab. I wish to go back alone."
+
+In spite of argument she remained smilingly firm. Finally he rang up a
+taxi for her. When it signalled he walked down stairs, through the dim
+hall and out to the grilled gateway beside her.
+
+"Good-bye," she said, giving her hand. He detained it:
+
+"I can't bear to have you go alone----"
+
+"I'm perfectly safe, mon ami. I've had a delightful time at your
+party--really I have. This affair of the letter does not spoil it. I'm
+accustomed to similar episodes. So now, good-night."
+
+"Am I to see you again soon?"
+
+"Soon? Ah, I can't tell you that, Garry."
+
+"When it is convenient then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And will you telephone me on your safe arrival home to-night?"
+
+She laughed:
+
+"If you wish. You're so sweet to me, Garry. You always have been.
+Don't worry about me. I am not in the least apprehensive. You see I'm
+rather a clever girl, and I know something about the Boche."
+
+"You had your letter stolen."
+
+"Only half of it!" she retorted gaily. "She is a gallant little thing,
+your friend Dulcie. Please give her my love. As for your other
+friends, they were amusing.... Mr. Mandel spoke to me about an
+engagement."
+
+"Why don't you consider it? Corot Mandel is the most important
+producer in New York."
+
+"Is he, really? Well, if I'm not interfered with perhaps I shall go to
+call on Mr. Mandel." She began to laugh mischievously to herself:
+"There was one man there who never gave me a moment's peace until I
+promised to lunch with him at the Ritz."
+
+"Who the devil----"
+
+"Mr. Westmore," she said demurely.
+
+"Oh, Jim Westmore! Well, Thessa, he's a corker. He's really a
+splendid fellow, but look out for him! He's also a philanderer."
+
+"Oh, dear. I thought he was just a sculptor and a rather strenuous
+young man."
+
+"I wasn't knocking him," said Barres, laughing, "but he falls in love
+with every pretty woman he meets. I'm merely warning you."
+
+"Thank you, Garry," she smiled. She gave him her hand again, pulled
+the rose-coloured cloak around her bare shoulders, ran across the
+sidewalk to the taxi, and whispered to the driver.
+
+"You'll telephone me when you get home?" he reminded her, baffled but
+smiling.
+
+She laughed and nodded. The cab wheeled out into the street, backed,
+turned, and sped away eastward.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Half an hour later his telephone rang:
+
+"Garry, dear?"
+
+"Is it you, Thessa?"
+
+"Yes. I'm going to bed.... Tell Mr. Westmore that I'm not at all sure
+I shall meet him at the Ritz on Monday."
+
+"He'll go, anyway."
+
+"Will he? What devotion. What faith in woman! What a lively capacity
+for hope eternal! What vanity! Well, then, tell him he may take his
+chances."
+
+"I'll tell him. But I think you might make a date with me, too, you
+little fraud!"
+
+"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll drop in to see you unexpectedly some
+morning. And don't let me catch _you_ philandering in your studio with
+some pretty woman!"
+
+"No fear, Thessa."
+
+"I'm not at all sure. And your little model, Dulcie, is dangerously
+attractive."
+
+"Piffle! She's a kid!"
+
+"Don't be too sure of that, either! And tell Mr. Westmore that I _may_
+keep my engagement. And then again I may not! Good-night, Garry,
+dear!"
+
+"Good-night!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Walking slowly back to extinguish the lights in the studio before
+retiring to his own room for the night, Barres noticed a piece of
+paper on the table under the lamp, evidently a fragment from the torn
+letter.
+
+The words "Ferez Bey" and "Murtagh" caught his eye before he realised
+that it was not his business to decipher the fragment.
+
+So he lighted a match, held the shred of letter paper to the flame,
+and let it burn between his fingers until only a blackened cinder fell
+to the floor.
+
+But the two names were irrevocably impressed on his mind, and he found
+himself wondering who these men might be, as he stood by his bed,
+undressing.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+PROBLEMS
+
+
+The weather was turning hot in New York, and by the middle of the week
+the city sweltered.
+
+Barres, dropping his brushes and laying aside a dozen pictures in all
+stages of incompletion; and being, otherwise, deeply bitten by the
+dangerously enchanting art of Manship--dangerous as inspiration but
+enchanting to gaze upon--was very busy making out of wax a diminutive
+figure of the running Arethusa.
+
+And Dulcie, poor child, what with being poised on the ball of one
+little foot and with the other leg slung up in a padded loop, almost
+perished. Perspiration spangled her body like dew powdering a rose;
+sweat glistened on the features and shoulder-bared arms of the
+impassioned sculptor, even blinding him at times; but he worked on in
+a sort of furious exaltation, reeking of ill-smelling wax. And Dulcie,
+perfectly willing to die at her post, thought she was going to, and
+finally fainted away with an alarming thud.
+
+Which brought Barres to his senses, even before she had recovered
+hers; and he proclaimed a vacation for his overworked Muse and his
+model, too.
+
+"Do you feel better, Sweetness?" he enquired, as she opened her eyes
+when Selinda exchanged a wet compress for an ice-bag.
+
+Dulcie, flat on the lounge, swathed in a crash bathrobe, replied only
+by a slight but reassuring flutter of one hand.
+
+Esme Trenor sauntered in for a gossip, wearing his celebrated
+lilac-velvet jacket and Louis XV slippers.
+
+"Oh, the devil," he drawled, looking from Dulcie to the Arethusa;
+"she's worth more than your amateurish statuette, Garry."
+
+"You bet she is. And here's where her vacation begins."
+
+Esme turned to Dulcie, lifting his eyebrows:
+
+"You go away with him?"
+
+The idea had never before entered Barres's head. But he said:
+
+"Certainly; we both need the country for a few weeks."
+
+"You'll go to one of those damned artists' colonies, I suppose,"
+remarked Esme; "otherwise, washed and unwashed would expel shrill
+cries."
+
+"Probably not in my own home," returned Barres, coolly. "I shall write
+my family about it to-day."
+
+Corot Mandel dropped in, also, that morning--he and Esme were ever
+prowling uneasily around Dulcie in these days--and he studied the
+Arethusa through a foggy monocle, and he loitered about Dulcie's
+couch.
+
+"You know," he said to Barres, "there's nothing like dancing to
+recuperate from all this metropolitan pandemonium. If you like, I can
+let Dulcie in on that thing I'm putting on at Northbrook."
+
+"That's up to her," said Barres. "It's her vacation, and she can do
+what she likes with it----"
+
+Esme interposed with characteristic impudence:
+
+"Barres imitates Manship with impunity; I'd like to have a plagiaristic
+try at Sorolla and Zuloaga, if Dulcie says the word. Very agreeable job
+for a girl in hot weather," he added, looking at Dulcie, "--an easy
+swimming pose in some nice cool little Adirondack lake----"
+
+"Seriously," interrupted Mandel, twirling his monocle impatiently by
+its greasy string, "I mean it, Barres." He turned and looked at the
+lithely speeding Arethusa. "If that is Dulcie, I can give her a good
+part in----"
+
+"You hear, Dulcie?" enquired Barres. "These two kind gentlemen have
+what they consider attractive jobs for you. All I can offer you is
+liberty to tumble around the hayfields at Foreland Farms, with my
+sketching easel in the middle distance. Now, choose your job,
+Sweetness."
+
+"The hayfields and----"
+
+Dulcie's voice faded to a whisper; Barres, seated beside her, leaned
+nearer, bending his head to listen.
+
+"And _you_," she murmured again, "--if you want me."
+
+"I always want you," he whispered laughingly, in return.
+
+Esme regarded the scene with weariness and chagrin.
+
+"Come on," he said languidly to Mandel, "we'll buy her some flowers
+for the evil she does us. She'll need 'em; she'll be finished before
+this amateur sculptor finishes his blooming Arethusa."
+
+Mandel lingered:
+
+"I'm going up to Northbrook in a day or two, Barres. If you
+change--change Dulcie's mind for her, just call me up at the Adolf
+Gerhardt's."
+
+"Dulcie will call you up if she changes my mind."
+
+Dulcie laughed.
+
+When they had gone, Barres said:
+
+"You know I haven't thought about the summer. What was your idea about
+it?"
+
+"My--idea?"
+
+"Yes. You'd want a couple of weeks in the country somewhere, wouldn't
+you?"
+
+"I don't know. I never went away," she replied vaguely.
+
+It occurred to him, now, that for all his pleasant toleration of
+Soane's little daughter during the two years and more of his residence
+in Dragon Court, he had never really interested himself in her
+well-being, never thought to enquire about anything which might really
+concern her. He had taken it for granted that most people have some
+change from the stifling, grinding, endless routine of their
+lives--some respite, some quiet interval for recovery and rest.
+
+And so, returning from his own vacations, it never occurred to him
+that the shy girl whom he permitted within his precincts, when
+convenient, never knew any other break in the grey monotony--never
+left the dusty, soiled, and superheated city from one year's summer to
+another.
+
+Now, for the first time, he realised it.
+
+"We'll go up there," he said. "My family is accustomed to models I
+bring there for my summer work. You'll be very comfortable, and you'll
+feel quite at home. We live very simply at Foreland Farms. Everybody
+will be kind and nobody will bother you, and you can do exactly as you
+please, because we all do that at Foreland Farms. Will you come when
+I'm ready to go up?"
+
+She gave him a sweet, confused glance from her grey eyes.
+
+"Do you think your family would mind?"
+
+"Mind?" He smiled. "We never interfere with one another's affairs.
+It's not like many families, I fancy. We take it for granted that
+nobody in the family could do anything not entirely right. So we take
+that for granted and it's a jolly sensible arrangement."
+
+She turned her face on the pillow presently; the ice-bag slid off;
+she sat up in her bathrobe, stretched her arms, smiled faintly:
+
+"Shall I try again?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, Lord!" he said, "_would_ you? Upon my word, I believe you would!
+No more posing to-day! I'm not a murderer. Lie there until you're
+ready to dress, and then ring for Selinda."
+
+"Don't you want me?"
+
+"Yes, but I want you alive, not dead! Anyway, I've got to talk to
+Westmore this morning, so you may be as lazy as you like--lounge
+about, read----" He went over to her, patted her cheek in the smiling,
+absent-minded way he had with her: "Tell me, ducky, how are you
+feeling, anyway?"
+
+It confused her dreadfully to blush when he touched her, but she
+always did; and she turned her face away now, saying that she was
+quite all right again.
+
+Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he nodded:
+
+"That's fine," he said. "Now, trot along to Selinda, and when you're
+fixed up you can have the run of the place to yourself."
+
+"Could I have my slippers?" She was very shy even about her bare feet
+when she was not actually posing.
+
+He found her slippers for her, laid them beside the lounge, and
+strolled away. Westmore rang a moment later, but when he blew in like
+a noisy breeze Dulcie had disappeared.
+
+"My little model toppled over," said Barres, taking his visitor's
+outstretched hand and wincing under the grip. "I shall cut out work
+while this weather lasts."
+
+Westmore turned toward the Arethusa, laughed at the visible influence
+of Manship.
+
+"All the same, Garry," he said, "there's a lot in your running nymph.
+It's nice; it's knowing."
+
+"That is pleasant to hear from a sculptor."
+
+"Sculptor? Sometimes I feel like a sculpin--prickly heat, you know."
+He laughed heartily at his own witticism, slapped Barres on the
+shoulder, lighted a pipe, and flung himself on the couch recently
+vacated by Dulcie.
+
+"This damned war," he said, "takes the native gaiety out of a
+man--takes the laughter out of life. Over two years of it now, Garry;
+and it's as though the sun is slowly growing dimmer every day."
+
+"I know," nodded Barres.
+
+"Sure you feel it. Everybody does. By God, I have periods of sickness
+when the illustrated London periodicals arrive, and I see those dead
+men pictured there--such fine, clean fellows--our own kind--half of
+them just kids!--well, it hurts me to look at them, and, for the sheer
+pain of it, I'm always inclined to shirk and turn that page quickly.
+But I say to myself, 'Jim, they're dead fighting Christ's own battle,
+and the least you can do is to read their names and ages, and look
+upon their faces.'... And I do it."
+
+"So do I," nodded Barres, sombrely gazing at the carpet.
+
+After a silence, Westmore said:
+
+"Well, the Boche has taken his medicine and canned Tirpitz--the wild
+swine that he is. So I don't suppose we'll get mixed up in it."
+
+"The Hun is a great liar," remarked Barres. "There's no telling."
+
+"Are you going to Plattsburg again this year?" enquired Westmore.
+
+"I don't know. Are you?"
+
+"In the autumn, perhaps.... Garry, it's discouraging. Do you realise
+what a gigantic task we have ahead of us if the Hun ever succeeds in
+kicking us into this war? And what a gigantic mess we've made of two
+years' inactivity?"
+
+Barres, pondering, scowled at his own thoughts.
+
+"And now," continued the other, "the Guard is off to the border, and
+here we are, stripped clean, with the city lousy with Germans and
+every species of Hun deviltry hatching out fires and explosions and
+disloyal propaganda from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the Lakes
+to the Gulf!
+
+"A fine mess!--no troops, nothing to arm them with, no modern
+artillery, no preparations; the Boche growing more insolent, more
+murderous, but slyer; a row on with Mexico, another brewing with
+Japan, all Europe and Great Britain regarding us with contempt--I ask
+you, can you beat it, Garry? Are there any lower depths for us?--any
+sub-cellars of iniquity into which we can tumble, like the basket of
+jelly-fish we seem to be!"
+
+"It's a nightmare," said Barres. "Since Liege and the _Lusitania_,
+it's been a bad dream getting worse. We'll have to wake, you know. If
+we don't, we're of no more substance than the dream itself:--we _are_
+the dream, and we'll end like one."
+
+"I'm going to wait a bit longer," said Westmore restlessly, "and if
+there's nothing doing, it's me for the other side."
+
+"For me, too, Jim."
+
+"Is it a bargain?"
+
+"Certainly.... I'd rather go under my own flag, of course.... We'll
+see how this Boche backdown turns out. I don't think it will last. I
+believe the Huns have been stirring up the Mexicans. It wouldn't
+surprise me if they were at the bottom of the Japanese menace. But
+what angers me is to think that we have received with innocent
+hospitality these hundreds of thousands of Huns in America, and that
+now, all over the land, this vast, acclimated nest of snakes rises
+hissing at us, menacing us with their filthy fangs!"
+
+"Thank God our police is still half Irish," growled Westmore, puffing
+at his pipe. "These dirty swine might try to rush the city if war
+comes while the Guard is away."
+
+"They're doing enough damage as it is," said Barres, "with their
+traitorous press, their pacifists, their agents everywhere inciting
+labour to strike, teaching disorganisation, combining commercially,
+directing blackmail, bomb outrages, incendiaries, and infesting the
+Republic with a plague of spies----"
+
+The studio bell rang sharply. Barres, who stood near the door, opened
+it.
+
+"Thessa!" he exclaimed, astonished and delighted.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+BLACKMAIL
+
+
+She came in swiftly, stirring the sultry stillness of the studio with
+a little breeze from her gown, faintly fragrant.
+
+"Garry, dear!--" She gave him both her hands and looked at him; and he
+saw the pink tint of excitement in her cheeks and her dark eyes
+brilliant.
+
+"Thessa, this is charming of you----"
+
+"No! I came----" She cast a swift glance around her, beheld Westmore,
+gave him one hand as he came forward.
+
+"How do you do?" she said, almost breathlessly, plainly controlling
+some inward excitement.
+
+But Westmore retained her hand and laid the other over it.
+
+"You _said_ you'd come to the Ritz----"
+
+"I'm sorry.... I have been--bothered--with matters--affairs----"
+
+"You are bothered now," he said. "If you have something to say to
+Garry, I'll go about my business.... Only I'm sorry it's not your
+business, too."
+
+He released her hand and reached for the door-knob: her dark eyes were
+resting on him with a strained, intent expression. On impulse she
+thrust out her arm and closed the door, which he had begun to open.
+
+"Please--Mr. Westmore.... I do want to see you. I'm trying to think
+clearly--" She turned and looked at Barres.
+
+"Is it serious?" he said in a low voice.
+
+"I--suppose so.... Garry, I wish to--to come here ... and stay."
+
+"What!"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Is it all right?"
+
+"All right," he replied pleasantly, bewildered and almost inclined to
+laugh.
+
+She said in a low, tense voice.
+
+"I'm really in trouble, Garry. I told you once that the word was not
+in my vocabulary.... I've had to include it."
+
+"I'm so sorry! Tell me all about----"
+
+He checked himself: she turned to Westmore--a deeper flush came into
+her cheeks--then she said gravely:
+
+"I scarcely know Mr. Westmore, but if he is like you, Garry--your
+sort--perhaps he----"
+
+"He'd do anything for you, Thessa, if you'll let him. Have you
+confidence in me?"
+
+"You know I have."
+
+"Then you can have the same confidence in Jim. I suggest it because I
+have a hazy idea what your trouble is. And if you came to ask advice,
+then I think that you'll get double value if you include Jim Westmore
+in your confidence."
+
+She stood silent and with heightened colour for a moment, then her
+expression became humorous, and, partly turning, she put out her
+gloved hand behind her and took hold of Westmore's sleeve. It was at
+once an appeal and an impulsive admission of her confidence in this
+young man whom she had liked from the beginning, and who must be
+trustworthy because he was the friend of Garret Barres.
+
+"I'm scared half to death," she remarked, without a quaver in her
+voice, but her smile had now become forced, and a quick, uneven little
+sigh escaped her as she passed her arms through Barres' and
+Westmore's, and, moving across the carpet between them, suffered
+herself to be installed among the Chinese cushions upon the lounge by
+the open window.
+
+In her distractingly pretty summer hat and gown, and with her white
+gloves and gold-mesh purse in her lap--her fresh, engaging face and
+daintily rounded figure--Thessalie Dunois seemed no more mature, no
+more experienced in worldly wisdom, than the charming young girls one
+passes on Fifth Avenue on a golden morning in early spring.
+
+But Westmore, looking into her dark eyes, divined, perhaps, something
+less inexperienced, less happy in their lovely, haunted depths. And,
+troubled by he knew not what, he waited in silence for her to speak.
+
+Barres said to her:
+
+"You are being annoyed, Thessa, dear. I gather that much from what has
+already happened. Can Jim and I do anything?"
+
+"I don't know.... It's come to a point where I--I'm afraid--to be
+alone."
+
+Her gaze fell; she sat brooding for a few moments, then, with a quick
+intake of breath:
+
+"It humiliates me to come to you. Would you believe that of me, Garry,
+that it has come to a point where I am actually afraid to be alone? I
+thought I had plenty of what the world calls courage."
+
+"You have!"
+
+"I _had_. I don't know what's become of it--what has happened to
+me.... I don't want to tell you more than I have to----"
+
+"Tell us as much as you think necessary," said Barres, watching her.
+
+"Thank you.... Well, then, some years ago I earned the enmity of a
+man. And, through him, a European Government blacklisted me. It was a
+terrible thing. I did not fully appreciate what it meant at the time."
+She turned to Westmore in her pretty, impulsive way: "This European
+Government, of which I speak, believes me to be the agent of another
+foreign government--believes that I betrayed its interests. This man
+whom I offended, to punish me and to cover his own treachery,
+furnished evidence which would have convicted me of treachery and
+espionage."
+
+The excited colour began to dye her cheeks again; she stretched out
+one arm in appeal to Westmore:
+
+"Please believe me! I am no spy. I never was. I was too young, too
+stupid, too innocent in such matters to know what this man was
+about--that he had very cleverly implicated me in this abhorrent
+matter. Do you believe me, Mr. Westmore?"
+
+"Of course I do!" he said with a fervour not, perhaps, necessary. "If
+you'll be kind enough to point out that gentleman----"
+
+"Wait, Jim," interposed Barres, nodding to Thessalie to proceed.
+
+She had been looking at Westmore, apparently much interested in his
+ardour, but she came to herself when Barres interrupted, and sat
+silent again as though searching her mind concerning what further she
+might say. Slowly the forced smile curved her lips again. She said:
+
+"I don't know just what that enraged European Government might have
+done to me had I been arrested, because I ran away ... and came
+here.... But the man whom I offended discovered where I was and never
+for a day even have his agents ceased to watch me, annoy me----"
+
+There was a quick break in her voice; she set her lips in silence
+until the moment's emotion had passed, then, turning to Westmore with
+winning dignity: "I am a dancer and singer--an entertainer of sorts,
+by profession. I----"
+
+"Tell Westmore a little more, Thessa," said Barres.
+
+"If you think it necessary."
+
+"I'll tell him. Miss Dunois was the most celebrated entertainer in
+Europe when this happened. Since she came here the man she has
+mentioned has, somehow, managed to interfere and spoil every business
+arrangement which she has attempted." He looked at Thessa. "I don't
+know whether, if Thessalie had cared to use the name under which she
+was known all over Europe----"
+
+"I didn't dare, Garry. I thought that, if some manager would only give
+me a chance I could make a new name for myself. But wherever I went I
+was dogged, and every arrangement was spoiled.... I had my jewels....
+You remember some of them, Garry. I gave those away--I think I told
+you why. _But_ I had other jewels--unset diamonds given to my mother
+by Prince Haledine. Well, I sold them and invested the money.... And
+my income is all I have--quite a tiny income, Mr. Westmore, but
+enough. Only I could have done very well here, I think, if I had not
+been interfered with."
+
+"Thessa," said Barres, "why not tell us both a little more? We're
+devoted to you."
+
+The girl lifted her dark eyes, and unconsciously they were turned to
+Westmore. And in that young man's vigorous, virile personality perhaps
+she recognised something refreshing, subtlely compelling, for, still
+looking at him, she began to speak quite naturally of things which
+had long been locked within her lonely heart:
+
+"I was scarcely more than a child when General Count Klingenkampf
+killed my father. The Grand Duke Cyril hushed it up.
+
+"I had several thousand roubles. I had--trouble with the Grand
+Duke.... He annoyed me ... as some men annoy a woman.... And when I
+put him in his place he insulted the memory of my mother because she
+was a Georgian.... I slapped his face with a whip.... And then I had
+to run away."
+
+She drew a quick, uneven breath, smiling at Westmore from whose intent
+gaze her own dark eyes never wandered.
+
+"My father had been a French officer before he took service in
+Russia," she said. "I was educated in Alsace and then in England. Then
+my father sent for me and I returned to St. Peters--I mean Petrograd.
+And because I loved dancing my father obtained permission for me to
+study at the Imperial school. Also, I had it in me to sing, and I had
+excellent instruction.
+
+"And because I did such things in my own way, sometimes my father
+permitted me to entertain at the gay gatherings patronised by the
+Grand Duke Cyril."
+
+She smiled in reminiscence, and her gaze became remote for a moment.
+Then, coming back, she lifted her eyes once more to Westmore's:
+
+"I ran away from Cyril and went to Constantinople, where Von-der-Goltz
+Pasha and others whom I had met at the Grand Duke's parties, when
+little more than a child, were stationed. I entertained at the German
+Embassy, and at the Yildiz Palace.... I was successful. And my success
+brought me opportunities--of the wrong kind. Do you understand?"
+
+Westmore nodded.
+
+"So," she continued, with a slight movement of disdain, "I didn't
+quite see how I was to get to Paris all alone and begin a serious
+career. And one evening I entertained at the German Embassy--tell me,
+do you know Constantinople?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, it is nothing except a vast mass of gossip and intrigue. One
+breakfasts on rumours, lunches on secrets, and dines on scandals. And
+my maid told me enough that day to make certain matters quite clear to
+me.
+
+"And so I entertained at the Embassy.... Afterward it was no surprise
+when his Excellency whispered to me that an honest career was assured
+me if I chose, and that I might be honestly launched in Paris without
+paying the price which I would not pay.
+
+"Later I was not surprised, either, when Ferez Bey, a friend of my
+father, and a man I had known since childhood, presented me
+to--to----" She glanced at Barres; he nodded; she concluded to name
+the man: "--the Count d'Eblis, a Senator of France, and owner of the
+newspaper called _Le Mot d'Ordre_."
+
+After a silence she stole another glance at Barres; a smile hovered on
+her lips. He, also, smiled; for he, too, was thinking of that moonlit
+way they travelled together on a night in June so long ago.
+
+Her glance asked:
+
+"Is it necessary to tell Mr. Westmore this?"
+
+He shook his head very slightly.
+
+"Well," she went on, her eyes reverting again to Westmore, "the Count
+d'Eblis, it appeared, had fallen in love with me at first sight.... In
+the beginning he misunderstood me.... When he realised that I would
+endure no nonsense from any man he proved to be sufficiently
+infatuated with me to offer me marriage."
+
+She shrugged:
+
+"At that age one man resembled another to me. Marriage was a
+convention, a desirable business arrangement. The Count was in a
+position to launch me into a career. Careers begin in Paris. And I
+knew enough to realise that a girl has to pay in one way or another
+for such an opportunity. So I said that I would marry him if I came to
+care enough for him. Which merely meant that if he were ordinarily
+polite and considerate and companionable I would ultimately become his
+wife.
+
+"That was the arrangement. And it caused much trouble. Because I was
+a--" she smiled at Barres, "--a success from the first moment. And
+d'Eblis immediately began to be abominably jealous and unreasonable.
+Again and again he broke his promise and tried to interfere with my
+career. He annoyed me constantly by coming to my hotel at inopportune
+moments; he made silly scenes if I ventured to have any friends or if
+I spoke twice to the same man; he distrusted me--he and Ferez Bey, who
+had taken service with him. Together they humiliated me, made my life
+miserable by their distrust.
+
+"I warned d'Eblis that his absurd jealousy and unkindness would not
+advance him in my interest. And for a while he seemed to become
+more reasonable. In fact, he apparently became sane again, and I had
+even consented to our betrothal, when, by accident, I discovered
+that he and Ferez were having me followed everywhere I went. And
+that very night was to have been a gay one--a party in honour of our
+betrothal--the night I discovered what he and Ferez had been doing
+to me.
+
+"I was so hurt, so incensed, that--" She cast an involuntary glance at
+Barres; he made a slight movement of negation, and she concluded her
+sentence calmly: "--I quarrelled with d'Eblis.... There was a very
+dreadful scene. And it transpired that he had sold a preponderating
+interest in _Le Mot d'Ordre_ to Ferez Bey, who was operating the paper
+in German interests through orders directly from Berlin. And d'Eblis
+thought I knew this and that I meant to threaten him, perhaps
+blackmail him, to shield some mythical lover with whom, he declared, I
+had become involved, and who was betraying him to the British
+Ambassador."
+
+She drew a deep, long breath:
+
+"Is it necessary for me to say that there was not a particle of truth
+in his hysterical accusations?--that I was utterly astounded? But my
+amazement became anger and then sheer terror when I learned from his
+own lips that he had cunningly involved me in his transactions with
+Ferez and with Berlin. So cunningly, so cleverly, so seriously had he
+managed to compromise me as a German agent that he had a mass of
+evidence against me sufficient to have had me court-martialled and
+shot had it been in time of war.
+
+"To me the situation seemed hopeless. I never would be believed by the
+French Government. Horror of arrest overwhelmed me. In a panic I took
+my unset jewels and fled to Belgium. And then I came here."
+
+She paused, trembling a little at the memory of it all. Then:
+
+"The agents of d'Eblis and Ferez discovered me and have given me no
+peace. I do not appeal to the police because that would stir up secret
+agents of the French Government. But it has come now to a place
+where--where I don't know what to do.... And so--being afraid at
+last--I am here to--to ask--advice----"
+
+She waited to control her voice, then opened her gold-mesh bag and
+drew from it a letter.
+
+"Three weeks ago I received this," she said. "I ignored it. Two weeks
+ago, as I opened the door of my room to go out, a shot was fired at
+me, and I heard somebody running down stairs.... I was badly scared.
+But I went out and did my shopping, and then I went to the writing
+room of a hotel and wrote to Garry.... Somebody watching me must have
+seen me write it, because an attempt was made to steal the letter. A
+man wearing a handkerchief over his face tried to snatch it out of the
+hands of Dulcie Soane. But he got only half of the letter.
+
+"And when I got home that same evening I found that my room had been
+ransacked.... That was why I did not go to meet you at the Ritz; I was
+too upset. Besides, I was busy moving my quarters.... But it was no
+use. Last night I was awakened by hearing somebody working at the lock
+of my bedroom. And I sat up till morning with a pistol in my hand....
+And--I don't think I had better live entirely alone--until it is
+safer. Do you, Garry?"
+
+"I should think not!" said Westmore, turning red with anger.
+
+"Did you wish us to see that letter?" asked Barres.
+
+She handed it to him. It was typewritten; and he read it aloud,
+leisurely and very distinctly, pausing now and then to give full
+weight to some particularly significant and sinister sentence:
+
+  "MADEMOISELLE:
+
+  "For two years and more it has been repeatedly intimated to you
+  that your presence in America is not desirable to certain people,
+  except under certain conditions, which conditions you refuse to
+  consider.
+
+  "You have impudently ignored these intimations.
+
+  "Now, you are beginning to meddle. Therefore, this warning is sent
+  to you: _Mind your business and cease your meddling!_
+
+  "Moreover, you are invited to leave the United States at your
+  early convenience.
+
+  "France, England, Russia, and Italy are closed to you. Without
+  doubt you understand that. Also, doubtless you have no desire to
+  venture into Germany, Austria, Bulgaria, or Turkey. Scandinavia
+  remains open to you, and practically no other country except
+  Spain, because we do not permit you to go to Mexico or to Central
+  or South America. Do you comprehend? _We_ do not permit it.
+
+  "Therefore, hold your tongue and control your _furor scribendi_
+  while in New York. And make arrangements to take the next Danish
+  steamer for Christiania.
+
+  "This is a friendly warning. For if you are still here in the
+  United States two weeks after you have received this letter, other
+  measures will be taken in your regard which will effectually
+  dispose of your troublesome presence.
+
+  "The necessity which forces us to radical action in this affair is
+  regrettable, but entirely your own fault.
+
+  "You have, from time to time during the last two years, received
+  from us overtures of an amicable nature. You have been approached
+  with discretion and have been offered every necessary guarantee to
+  cover an understanding with us.
+
+  "You have treated our advances with frivolity and contempt. And
+  what have you gained by your defiance?
+
+  "Our patience and good nature has reached its limits. We shall ask
+  nothing further of you; we deliver you our orders hereafter. And
+  our orders are to leave New York immediately.
+
+  "Yet, even now, at the eleventh hour, it may not be too late for
+  us to come to some understanding if you change your attitude
+  entirely and show a proper willingness to negotiate with us in all
+  good faith.
+
+  "But that must be accomplished within the two weeks' grace given
+  you before you depart.
+
+  "You know how to proceed. If you try to play us false you had
+  better not have been born. If you deal honestly with us your
+  troubles are over.
+
+  "This is final.
+
+  "THE WATCHER."
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE WATCHER
+
+
+"The Watcher," repeated Barres, studying the typewritten signature for
+a moment longer. Then he looked at Westmore: "What do you think of
+that, Jim?"
+
+Westmore, naturally short tempered, became very red, got to his feet,
+and began striding about the studio as though some sudden blaze of
+inward anger were driving him into violent motion.
+
+"The thing to do," he said, "is to catch this 'Watcher' fellow and
+beat him up. That's the way to deal with blackmailers--catch 'em and
+beat 'em up--vermin of this sort--this blackmailing fraternity!--I
+haven't anything to do; I'll take the job!"
+
+"We'd better talk it over first," suggested Barres. "There seem to be
+several ways of going about it. One way, of course, is to turn
+detective and follow Thessa around town. And, as you say, spot any man
+who dogs her and beat him up very thoroughly. That's your way, Jim.
+But Thessa, unfortunately, doesn't desire to be featured, and you
+can't go about beating up people in the streets of New York without
+inviting publicity."
+
+Westmore came back and stood near Thessalie, who looked up at him from
+her seat on the Chinese couch with visible interest:
+
+"Mr. Westmore?"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Garry is quite right about the way I feel. I don't want notoriety. I
+can't afford it. It would mean stirring up every French Government
+agent here in New York. And if America should ever declare war on
+Germany and become an ally of France, then your own Secret Service
+here would instantly arrest me and probably send me to France to stand
+trial."
+
+She bent her pretty head, adding in a quiet voice:
+
+"Extradition would bring a very swift end to my career. With the lying
+evidence against me and a Senator of France to corroborate it by
+perjury--ask yourselves, gentlemen, how long it would take a military
+court to send me to the parade in the nearest caserne!"
+
+"Do you mean they'd shoot you?" demanded Westmore, aghast.
+
+"Any court-martial to-day would turn me over to a firing squad!"
+
+"You see," said Barres, turning to Westmore, "this is a much more
+serious matter than a case of ordinary blackmail."
+
+"Why not go to our own Secret Service authorities and lay the entire
+business before them?" asked Westmore excitedly.
+
+But Thessalie shook her head:
+
+"The evidence against me in Paris is overwhelming. My dossier alone,
+as it now stands, would surely condemn me without corroborative
+evidence. Your people here would never believe in me if the French
+Government forwarded to them a copy of my dossier from the secret
+archives in Paris. As for my own Government----" She merely shrugged.
+
+Barres, much troubled, glanced from Thessalie to Westmore.
+
+"It's rather a rotten situation," he said. "There must be, of course,
+some sensible way to tackle it, though I don't quite see it yet. But
+one thing is very plain to me: Thessa ought to remain here with us for
+the present. Don't you think so, Jim?"
+
+"How can I, Garry?" she asked. "You have only one room, and I couldn't
+turn you out----"
+
+"I can arrange that," interposed Westmore, turning eagerly to Barres
+with a significant gesture toward the door at the end of the studio.
+"There's the solution, isn't it?"
+
+"Certainly," agreed Barres; and to Thessalie, in explanation:
+"Westmore's two bedrooms adjoin my studio--beyond that wall. We have
+merely to unlock those folding doors and throw his apartment into
+mine, making one long suite of rooms. Then you may have my room and
+I'll take his spare room."
+
+She still hesitated.
+
+"I am very grateful, Garry, and I admit that I am becoming almost
+afraid to remain entirely alone, but----"
+
+"Send for your effects," he insisted cheerfully. "Aristocrates will
+move my stuff into Westmore's spare room. Then you shall take my
+quarters and be comfortable and well guarded with Aristocrates and
+Selinda on one side of you, and Jim and myself just across the
+studio." He cast a sombre glance at Westmore: "I suppose those rats
+will ultimately trail her to this place."
+
+Westmore turned to Thessalie:
+
+"Where are your effects?" he asked.
+
+She smiled forlornly:
+
+"I gave up my lodgings this morning, packed everything, and came here,
+rather scared." A little flush came over her face and she lifted her
+dark eyes and met Westmore's intent gaze. "You are very kind," she
+said. "My trunks are at the Grand Central Station--if you desire to
+make up my disconcerted mind for me. Do you really want me to come
+here and stay a few days?"
+
+Westmore suppressed himself no longer:
+
+"I won't _let_ you go!" he said. "I'm worried sick about you!" And to
+Barres, who sat slightly amazed at his friend's warmth:
+
+"Do you suppose any of those dirty dogs have traced the trunks?"
+
+Thessalie said:
+
+"I've never yet been able to conceal anything from them."
+
+"Probably, then," said Barres, "they have traced your luggage and are
+watching it."
+
+"Give me your checks, anyway," said Westmore. "I'll go at once and get
+your baggage and bring it here. If they're watching for you it will
+jolt them to see a man on the job."
+
+Barres nodded approval; Thessalie opened her purse and handed Westmore
+the checks.
+
+"You both are so kind," she murmured. "I have not felt so sheltered,
+so secure in many, many months."
+
+Westmore, extremely red again, controlled his emotions--whatever they
+were--with a visible effort:
+
+"Don't worry for one moment," he said. "Garry and I are going to
+settle this outrageous business for you. Now, I'm off to find your
+trunks. And if you could give me a description of any of these fellows
+who follow you about----"
+
+"Please--you are not to beat up anybody!" she reminded him, with a
+troubled smile.
+
+"I'll remember. I promise you not to."
+
+Barres said:
+
+"I think one of them is a tall, bony, one-eyed man, who has been
+hanging around here pretending to peddle artists' materials."
+
+Thessalie made a quick gesture of assent and of caution:
+
+"Yes! His name is Max Freund. I have found it impossible to conceal my
+whereabouts from him. This man, with only one eye, appears to be a
+friend of the superintendent, Soane. I am not certain that Soane
+himself is employed by this gang of blackmailers, but I believe that
+his one-eyed friend may pay him for any scraps of information
+concerning me."
+
+"Then we had better keep an eye on Soane," growled Westmore. "He's no
+good; he'll take graft from anybody."
+
+"Where is his daughter, Dulcie?" asked Thessalie. "Is she not your
+model, Garry?"
+
+"Yes. She's in my room now, lying down. This morning it was pretty hot
+in here, and Dulcie fainted on the model stand."
+
+"The poor child!" exclaimed Thessalie impulsively. "Could I go in and
+see her?"
+
+"Why, yes, if you like," he replied, surprised at her warm-hearted
+interest. He added, as Thessalie rose: "She is really all right again.
+But go in if you like. And you might tell Dulcie she can have her
+lunch in there if she wants it; but if she's going to dress she ought
+to be about it, because it's getting on toward the luncheon hour."
+
+So Thessalie went swiftly away down the corridor to knock at the door
+of the bedroom, and Barres walked out with Westmore as far as the
+stairs.
+
+"Jim," he said very soberly, "this whole business looks ugly to me.
+Thessa seems to be seriously entangled in the meshes of some
+blackmailing spider who is sewing her up tight."
+
+"It's probably a tighter web than we realise," growled Westmore. "It
+looks to me as though Miss Dunois has been caught in the main net of
+German intrigue. And that the big spider in Berlin did the spinning."
+
+"That's certainly what it looks like," admitted the other in a grave
+voice. "I don't believe that this is merely a local matter--an affair
+of petty, personal vengeance: I believe that the Hun is actually
+afraid of her--afraid of the evidence she might be able to furnish
+against certain traitors in Paris."
+
+Westmore nodded gloomily:
+
+"I'm pretty sure of it, too. They've tried, apparently, to win her
+over. They've tried, also, to drive her out of this country. Now, they
+mean to force her out, or perhaps kill her! Good God! Garry, did you
+ever hear of such filthy impudence as this entire German propaganda in
+America?"
+
+"Go and get her trunks," said Barres, deeply worried. "By the time you
+fetch 'em back here, lunch will be ready. Afterward, we'd all better
+get together and talk over this unpleasant situation."
+
+Westmore glanced at his watch, turned and went swinging away in his
+quick, energetic stride. Barres walked slowly back to the studio.
+
+There was nobody there. Thessalie had not yet returned from her visit
+to Dulcie Soane.
+
+The Prophet, however, came in presently, his tail politely hoisted. An
+agreeable aroma from the kitchen had doubtless allured him; he made an
+amicable remark to Barres, suffered himself to be caressed, then
+sprang to the carved table--his favourite vantage point for
+observation--and gazed solemnly toward the dining-room.
+
+For half an hour or more, Barres fussed and pottered about in the
+rather aimless manner of all artists, shifting canvases and stacking
+them against the wall, twirling his wax Arethusa around to inspect her
+from every possible and impossible angle, using clouds of fixitive on
+such charcoal studies as required it, scraping away meditatively at a
+too long neglected palette.
+
+He was already frankly concerned about Thessalie, and the more he
+considered her situation the keener grew his apprehension.
+
+Yet he, like all his fellow Americans, had not yet actually persuaded
+himself to believe in spies.
+
+Of course he read about them and their machinations in the daily
+papers; the spy scare was already well developed in New York; yet, to
+him and to the great majority of his fellow countrymen, people who
+made a profession of such a dramatic business seemed unreal--abstract
+types, not concrete examples of the human race--and he could not
+believe in them--could neither visualise such people nor realise that
+they existed outside melodrama or the covers of a best-seller.
+
+There is an incredulity which knows yet refuses to believe in its own
+knowledge. It is very American and it represented the paradoxical
+state of mind of this deeply worried young man, as he stood there in
+the studio, scraping away mechanically at his crusted palette.
+
+Then, as he turned to lay it aside, through the open studio door he
+saw a strange, bespectacled man looking in at him intently.
+
+An unpleasant shock passed through him, and his instinct started him
+toward the open door to close it.
+
+"Excuse," said he of the thick spectacles; and Barres stopped short:
+
+"Well, what is it?" he asked sharply.
+
+The man, who was well dressed and powerfully built, squinted through
+his spectacles out of little, inflamed and pig-like eyes.
+
+"Miss Dunois iss here?" he enquired politely. "I haff a message----"
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Excuse, please. My name iss not personally known to Miss Dunois----"
+
+"Then what is your business with Miss Dunois?"
+
+"Excuse, please. It iss of a delicacy--of a nature quite private, iff
+you please."
+
+Barres inspected him in hostile silence for a moment, then came to a
+swift conclusion.
+
+"Very well. Step inside," he said briefly.
+
+"I thank you, I will wait here----"
+
+"Step inside!" snapped Barres.
+
+Startled into silence, the man only blinked at him. Under the other's
+searching, suspicious gaze, the small, pig-like eyes were now shifting
+uneasily; then, as Barres took an abrupt step forward, the man shrank
+away and stammered out something about a letter which he was to
+deliver to Miss Dunois in private.
+
+"You say you have a letter for Miss Dunois?" demanded Barres, now
+determined to get hold of him.
+
+"I am instructed to giff it myself to her in private, all alone----"
+
+"Give it to _me_!"
+
+"I am instruc----"
+
+"Give it to me, I tell you!--and come inside here! Do you hear what
+I'm saying to you?"
+
+The spectacled man lost most of his colour as Barres started toward
+him.
+
+"Excuse!" he faltered, backing off down the corridor. "I giff you the
+letter!" And he hastily thrust his hand into the side pocket of his
+coat. But it was a pistol he poked under the other's nose--a shiny,
+lumpy weapon, clutched most unsteadily.
+
+"Hands up and turn me once around your back!" whispered the man
+hoarsely. "Quick!--or I shoot you!"--as the other, astounded, merely
+gazed at him. The man had already begun to back away again, but as
+Barres moved he stopped and cursed him:
+
+"Put them up your hands!" snarled the spectacled man, with a final
+oath. "Keep your distance or I kill you!"
+
+Barres heard himself saying, in a voice not much like his own:
+
+"You can't do this to me and get away with it! It's nonsense! This
+sort of thing doesn't go in New York!"
+
+Suddenly his mind grew coldly, terrible clear:
+
+"No, you _can't_ get away with it!" he concluded aloud, in the calm,
+natural voice of conviction. "Your stunt is scaring women! You try to
+keep clear of men--you dirty, blackmailing German crook! I've got your
+number! You're the 'Watcher'!--you murderous rat! You're afraid to
+shoot!"
+
+It was plain that the spectacled man had not discounted anything of
+this sort--plain now, to Barres, that if, indeed, murder actually had
+been meant, it was not his own murder that had been planned with that
+big, blunt, silver-plated pistol, now wavering wildly before his
+eyes.
+
+"I blow your face off!" whispered the stranger, beginning to back away
+again, and ghastly pale.
+
+"Keep out of thiss! I am not looking for you. Get you back; step once
+again inside that door away!----"
+
+But Barres had already jumped for him, had almost caught him, was
+reaching for him--when the man hurled the pistol straight at his face.
+The terrific impact of the heavy weapon striking him between the eyes
+dazed him; he stumbled sideways, colliding with the wall, and he
+reeled around there a second.
+
+But that second's leeway was enough for the bespectacled stranger. He
+turned and ran like a deer. And when Barres reached the staircase the
+whitewashed hall below was still echoing with the slam of the street
+grille.
+
+Nevertheless, he hurried down, but found the desk-chair empty and
+Soane nowhere visible, and continued on to the outer door, more or
+less confused by the terrific blow on the head.
+
+Of course the bespectacled man had disappeared amid the noonday
+foot-farers now crowding both sidewalks east and west, on their way to
+lunch.
+
+Barres walked slowly back to the desk, still dazed, but now thoroughly
+enraged and painfully conscious of a heavy swelling where the blow had
+fallen on his forehead.
+
+In the superintendent's quarters he found Soane, evidently just
+awakened after a sodden night at Grogan's, trying to dress.
+
+Barres said:
+
+"There is nobody at the desk. Either you or Miss Kurtz should be on
+duty. That is the rule. Now, I'm going to tell you something: If I
+ever again find that desk without anybody behind it, I shall go to the
+owners of this building and tell them what sort of superintendent you
+are! And maybe I'll tell the police, also!"
+
+"Arrah, then, Misther Barres----"
+
+"That's all!" said Barres, turning on his heel. "Anything more from
+you and you'll find yourself in trouble!"
+
+And he went up stairs.
+
+The lumpy pistol still lay there in the corridor; he picked it up and
+took it into the studio. The weapon was fully loaded. It seemed to be
+of some foreign make--German or Austrian, he judged by the marking
+which had been almost erased, deliberately obliterated, it appeared to
+him.
+
+He placed it in his desk, seated himself, explored his bruises
+gingerly with cautious finger-tips, concluded that the bridge of his
+nose was not broken, then threw himself back in his armchair for some
+grim and concentrated thinking.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+A CONFERENCE
+
+
+The elegantly modulated accents of Aristocrates, announcing the
+imminence of luncheon, aroused Barres from disconcerted but wrathful
+reflections.
+
+As he sat up and tenderly caressed his battered head, Thessalie and
+Dulcie came slowly into the studio together, their arms interlaced.
+
+Both exclaimed at the sight of the young man's swollen face, but he
+checked their sympathetic enquiries drily:
+
+"Bumped into something. It's nothing. How are you, Dulcie? All right
+again?"
+
+She nodded, evidently much concerned about his disfigured forehead; so
+to terminate sympathetic advice he went away to bathe his bruises in
+witch hazel, and presently returned smelling strongly of that
+time-honoured panacea, and with a saturated handkerchief adorning his
+brow.
+
+At the same time, there came a considerable thumping and bumping from
+the corridor; the bell rang, and Westmore appeared with the
+trunks--five of them. These a pair of brawny expressmen rolled into
+the studio and carried thence to the storeroom which separated the
+bedroom and bath from the kitchen.
+
+"Any trouble?" enquired Barres of Westmore, when the expressmen had
+gone.
+
+"None at all. Nobody looked at me twice. What's happened to your
+noddle?"
+
+"Bumped it. Lunch is ready."
+
+Thessalie came over to him:
+
+"I have included Dulcie among my confidants," she said in a low
+voice.
+
+"You mean you've told her----"
+
+"Everything. And I am glad I did."
+
+Barres was silent; Thessalie passed her arm around Dulcie's waist; the
+two men walked behind together.
+
+The table was a mass of flowers, over which netted sunlight played.
+Three cats assisted--the Prophet, always dignified, blinked pleasantly
+from a window ledge; the blond Houri, beside him, purred loudly. Only
+Strindberg was impossible, chasing her own tail under the patient feet
+of Aristocrates, or rolling over and over beneath the table in a
+mindless assault upon her own hind toes.
+
+Seated there in the quiet peace and security of the pleasant room,
+amid familiar things, with Aristocrates moving noiselessly about,
+sunlight lacing wall and ceiling, and the air aromatic with the scent
+of brilliant flowers, Barres tried in vain to realise that murder
+could throw its shadow over such a place--that its terrible menace
+could have touched his threshold, even for an instant.
+
+No, it was impossible. The fellow could not have intended murder. He
+was merely a blackmailer, suddenly detected and instantly frightened,
+pulling a gun in a panic, and even then failing in the courage to
+shoot.
+
+It enraged Barres to even think about it, but he could not bring
+himself to attach any darker significance to the incident than just
+that--a blackmailer, ready to display a gun, but not to use it, had
+come to bully a woman; had found himself unexpectedly trapped, and had
+behaved according to his kind.
+
+Barres had meant to catch him. But he admitted to himself that he had
+gone about it very unskilfully. This added disgust to his smouldering
+wrath, but he realised that he ought to tell the story.
+
+And after the rather subdued luncheon was ended, and everybody had
+gone out to the studio, he did tell it, deliberately including Dulcie
+in his audience, because he felt that she also ought to know.
+
+"And this is the present state of affairs," he concluded, lighting a
+cigarette and flinging one knee across the other, "----that my friend,
+Thessalie Dunois, who came here to escape the outrageous annoyance of
+a gang of blackmailers, is followed immediately and menaced with
+further insult on my very threshold.
+
+"This thing must stop. It's going to be stopped. And I suggest that we
+discuss the matter now and decide how it ought to be handled."
+
+After a silence, Westmore said:
+
+"You had your nerve, Garry. I'm wondering what I might have done under
+the muzzle of that pistol."
+
+Dulcie's grey eyes had never left Barres. He encountered her gaze now;
+smiled at its anxious intensity.
+
+"I made a botch of it, Sweetness, didn't I?" he said lightly. And, to
+Westmore: "The moment I suspected him he was aware of it. Then, when I
+tried to figure out how to get him into the studio, it was too late. I
+made a mess of it, that's all. And it's too bad, Thessa, that I
+haven't more sense."
+
+She gently shook her head:
+
+"You haven't any sense, Garry. That man might easily have killed you,
+in spite of your coolness and courage----"
+
+"No. He was just a rat----"
+
+"In a corner! You couldn't tell what he'd do----"
+
+"Yes, I could. He _didn't_ shoot. Moreover, he legged it, which was
+exactly what I was certain he meant to do. Don't worry about me,
+Thessa; if I didn't have brains enough to catch him, at least I was
+clever enough to know it was safe to try." He laughed. "There's
+nothing of the hero about me; don't think it!"
+
+"I think that Dulcie and I know what to call your behaviour," she said
+quietly, taking the silent girl's hand in hers and resting it in her
+lap.
+
+"Sure; it was bull-headed pluck," growled Westmore. "The drop is the
+drop, Garry, and you're no mind-reader."
+
+But Barres persisted in taking it humorously:
+
+"I read that gentleman's mind correctly, and his character, too."
+Then, to Thessalie: "You say you don't recognise him from my
+description?"
+
+She shook her head thoughtfully.
+
+"Garry," said Westmore impatiently, "if we're going to discuss various
+ways of putting an end to this business, what way do you suggest?"
+
+Barres lighted another cigarette:
+
+"I've been thinking. And I haven't a notion how to go about it, unless
+we turn over the matter to the police. But Thessa doesn't wish
+publicity," he added, "so whatever is to be done we must do by
+ourselves."
+
+Thessalie leaned forward from her seat on the lounge by Dulcie:
+
+"I don't ask that of you," she remonstrated earnestly. "I only wanted
+to stay here for a little while----"
+
+"You shall do that too," said Westmore, "but this matter seems to
+involve something more than annoyance and danger to you. Those
+miserable rascals are Germans and they are carrying on their impudent
+intrigues, regardless of American laws and probably to the country's
+detriment. How do we know what they are about? What else may they be
+up to? It seems to me that somebody had better investigate their
+activities--this one-eyed man, Freund--this handy gunman in
+spectacles--and whoever it was who took a shot at you the other
+day----"
+
+"Certainly," said Barres, "and you and I are going to investigate. But
+how?"
+
+"What about Grogan's?"
+
+"It's a German joint now," nodded Barres. "One of us might drop in
+there and look it over. Thessa, how do you think we ought to go about
+this affair?"
+
+Thessalie, who sat on the sofa with Dulcie's hand clasped in both
+of hers--a new intimacy which still surprised and pleasantly
+perplexed Barres--said that she could not see that there was
+anything in particular for them to do, but that she herself intended
+to cease living alone for a while and refrain from going about town
+unaccompanied.
+
+Then it suddenly occurred to Barres that if he and Dulcie went to
+Foreland Farms, Thessalie should be invited also; otherwise, she'd be
+alone again, except for the servants, and possibly Westmore. And he
+said so.
+
+"This won't do," he insisted. "We four ought to remain in touch with
+one another for the present. If Dulcie and I go to Foreland Farms, you
+must come, too, Thessa; and you, Jim, ought to be there, too."
+
+Nobody demurred; Barres, elated at the prospect, gave Thessalie a
+brief sketch of his family and their home.
+
+"There's room for a regiment in the house," he added, "and you will
+feel welcome and entirely at home. I'll write my people to-night, if
+it's settled. Is it, Thessa?"
+
+"I'd adore it, Garry. I haven't been in the country since I left
+France."
+
+"And you, Jim?"
+
+"You bet. I always have a wonderful time at Foreland."
+
+"Now, this is splendid!" exclaimed Barres, delighted. "If you
+disappear, Thessa, those German rats may become discouraged and give
+up hounding you. Anyway, you'll have a quiet six weeks and a complete
+rest; and by that time Jim and I ought to devise some method of
+handling these vermin."
+
+"Nobody," said Thessalie, smiling, "has asked Dulcie's opinion as to
+how this matter ought to be handled."
+
+Barres turned to meet Dulcie's shy gaze.
+
+"Tell us what to do, Sweetness!" he said gaily. "It was stupid of me
+not to ask for your views."
+
+For a few moments the girl remained silent, then, the lovely tint
+deepening in her cheeks, she suggested diffidently that the people who
+were annoying Thessalie had been hired to do it by others more easy to
+handle, if discovered.
+
+There was a moment's silence, then Barres struck his palm with doubled
+fist:
+
+"_That_," he said with emphasis, "is the right way to approach this
+business! Hired thugs can be handled in only two ways--beat 'em up or
+call in the police. And we can do neither.
+
+"But the men higher up--the men who inspire and hire these rats--they
+can be dealt with in other ways. You're right, Dulcie! You've started
+us on the only proper path!"
+
+Considerably excited, now, as vague ideas crowded in upon him, he sat
+smiting his knees, his brows knit in concentrated thought, aware that
+they were on the right track, but that the track was but a blind trail
+so far.
+
+Dulcie ventured to interrupt his frowning cogitation:
+
+"People of position and influence who hire men to do unworthy things
+are cowards at heart. To discover them is to end the whole matter, I
+think."
+
+"You're absolutely right, Sweetness! Wait! I begin to see--to see
+things--see something--interesting----"
+
+He looked up at Thessalie:
+
+"D'Eblis, Ferez Bey, Von-der-Goltz Pasha, Excellenz, Berlin--all these
+were mixed up with this German-American banker, Adolf Gerhardt, were
+they not?"
+
+"It was Gerhardt's money, I am sure, that bought the _Mot d'Ordre_
+from d'Eblis for Ferez--that is, for Berlin," she said.
+
+"Do you mean," asked Westmore, "the New York banker, Adolf Gerhardt,
+of Gerhardt, Klein & Schwartzmeyer, who has that big show place at
+Northbrook?"
+
+Barres smiled at him significantly:
+
+"What do you know about that, Jim! If we go to Foreland we're certain
+to be asked to the Gerhardt's! They're part of the Northbrook set;
+they're received everywhere. They entertain the personnel of the
+German and Austrian Embassies. Probably their place, Hohenlinden, is a
+hotbed of German intrigue and propaganda! Thessa, how about you? Would
+you care to risk recognition in Gerhardt's drawing-room, and see what
+information you could pick up?"
+
+Thessalie's cheeks grew bright pink, and her dark eyes were full of
+dancing light:
+
+"Garry, I'd adore it! I told you I had never been a spy. And that is
+absolutely true. But if you think I am sufficiently intelligent to do
+anything to help my country, I'll try. And I don't care how I do it,"
+she added, with her sweet, reckless little laugh, and squeezed
+Dulcie's hand tightly between her fingers.
+
+"Do you suppose Gerhardt would remember you?" asked Westmore.
+
+"I don't think so. I don't believe anybody would recollect me. If
+anybody there ever saw Nihla Quellen, it wouldn't worry me, because
+Nihla Quellen is merely a memory if anything, and only Ferez and
+d'Eblis know I am alive and here----"
+
+"And their hired agents," added Westmore.
+
+"Yes. But such people would not be guests of Adolf Gerhardt at
+Northbrook."
+
+"Ferez Bey might be his guest."
+
+"What of it!" she laughed. "I was never afraid of Ferez--never! He is
+a jackal always. A threatening gesture and he flees! No, I do not
+fear Ferez Bey, but I think he is horribly afraid of me.... I
+think, perhaps, he has orders to do me very serious harm--and dares
+not. No, Ferez Bey comes sniffing around after the fight is over. He
+does no fighting, not Ferez! He slinks outside the smoke. When it
+clears away and night comes he ventures forth to feed furtively on
+what is left. That is Ferez--my Ferez on whom I would not use a
+dog-whip--no!--merely a slight gesture--and he is gone like a swift
+shadow in the dark!"
+
+Fascinated by the transformation in her, the other three sat gazing at
+Thessalie in silence. Her colour was high, her dark eyes sparkled, her
+lips glowed. And the superb young figure so celebrated in Europe, so
+straight and virile, seemed instinct with the reckless gaity and
+courage which rang out in her full-throated laughter as she ended with
+a gesture and a snap of her white fingers.
+
+"For my country--for France, whose generous mind has been poisoned
+against me--I would do anything--anything!" she said. "If you think,
+Garry, that I have wit enough to balk d'Eblis, check Ferez, confuse
+the plotters in Berlin--well, then!--I shall try. If you say it is
+right, then I shall become what I never have been--a spy!"
+
+She sat for a moment smiling in her flushed excitement. Nobody spoke.
+Then her expression altered, subtlely, and her dark eyes grew
+pensive.
+
+"Perhaps," she said wistfully, "if I could serve my country in some
+little way, France might believe me loyal.... I have sometimes wished
+I might have a chance to prove it. There is nothing I would not risk
+if only France would come to believe in me.... But there seemed to be
+no chance for me. It is death for me to go there now, with that
+dossier in the secret archives and a Senator of France to swear my
+life away----"
+
+"If you like," said Westmore, very red again, "I'll go into the
+business, too, and help you nail some of these Hun plotters. I've
+nothing better to do; I'd be delighted to help you land a Hun or
+two."
+
+"I'm with you both, heart and soul!" said Barres. "The whole country
+is rotten with Boche intrigue. Who knows what we may uncover at
+Northbrook?"
+
+Dulcie rose and came over to where Barres sat, and he reached up
+without turning around, and gave her hand a friendly little squeeze.
+
+She bent over beside him:
+
+"Could I help?" she asked in a low voice.
+
+"You bet, Sweetness! Did you think you were being left out?" And he
+drew her closer and passed one arm absently around her as he began
+speaking again to Westmore:
+
+"It seems to me that we ought to stumble on something at Northbrook
+worth following up, if we go about it circumspectly, Jim--with all
+that Austrian and German Embassy gang coming and going during the
+summer, and this picturesque fellow, Murtagh Skeel, being lionised
+by----"
+
+Dulcie's sudden start checked him and he looked up at her.
+
+"Murtagh Skeel, the Irish poet and patriot," he repeated, "who wants
+to lead a Clan-na-Gael raid into Canada or head a death-battalion to
+free Ireland. You've read about him in the papers, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes ... I want to talk to you alone----" She blushed and dropped a
+confused little curtsey to Thessalie: "Would you please pardon my
+rudeness----"
+
+"You darling!" said Thessalie, blowing her a swift, gay kiss. "Go and
+talk to your best friend in peace!"
+
+Barres rose and walked away slowly beside Dulcie. They stood still
+when out of earshot. She said:
+
+"I have a few of my mother's letters.... She knew a young man whose
+name was Murtagh Skeel.... He was her dear friend. But only in secret.
+Because I think her father and mother disliked him.... It would seem
+so from her letters and his.... And she was--in love with him.... And
+he with mother.... Then--I don't know.... But she came to America with
+father. That is all I know. Do you believe he can be the same man?"
+
+"Murtagh Skeel," repeated Barres. "It's an unusual name. Possibly he
+is the same man whom your mother knew. I should say he might have been
+about your mother's age, Dulcie. He is a romantic figure now--one of
+those dreamy, graceful, impractical patriots--an enthusiast with one
+idea and that an impossible one!--the freedom of Ireland wrenched by
+force from the traditional tyrant, England."
+
+He thought a moment, then:
+
+"Whatever the fault, and wherever lies the blame for Ireland's unrest
+to-day, this is no time to start rebellion. Who strikes at England now
+strikes at all Freedom in the world. Who conspires against England
+to-day conspires with barbarism against civilisation.
+
+"My outspoken sympathy of yesterday must remain unspoken to-day. And
+if it be insisted on, then it will surely change and become hostility.
+No, Dulcie; the line of cleavage is clean: it is Light against
+Darkness, Right against Might, Truth against Falsehood, and Christ
+against Baal!
+
+"This man, Murtagh Skeel, is a dreamer, a monomaniac, and a dangerous
+fanatic, for all his winning and cultivated personality and the
+personal purity of his character.... It is an odd coincidence if he
+was once your mother's friend--and her suitor, too."
+
+Dulcie stood before him, her head a trifle lowered, listening to what
+he said. When he ended, she looked up at him, then across the studio
+where Westmore had taken her place on the sofa beside Thessalie. They
+both seemed to be absorbed in a conversation which interested them
+immensely.
+
+Dulcie hesitated, then ventured to take possession of Barres' arm:
+
+"Could you and I sit down over here by ourselves?" she asked.
+
+He smiled, always amused by her increasing confidence and affection,
+and always a little touched by it, so plainly she revealed herself, so
+quaintly--sometimes very quietly and shyly, sometimes with an ardent
+impulse too swift for self-conscious second thoughts which might have
+checked her.
+
+So they seated themselves in the carved compartments of an ancient
+choir-stall and she rested one elbow on the partition between them
+and set her rounded chin in her palm.
+
+"You pretty thing," he said lightly.
+
+At that she blushed and smiled in the confused way she had when
+teased. And at such times she never looked at him--never even
+pretended to sustain his laughing gaze or brave out her own
+embarrassment.
+
+"I won't torment you, Sweetness," he said. "Only you ought not to let
+me, you know. It's a temptation to make you blush; you do it so
+prettily."
+
+"Please----" she said, still smiling but vividly disconcerted again.
+
+"There, dear! I won't. I'm a brute and a bully. But honestly, you
+ought not to let me."
+
+"I don't know how to stop you," she admitted, laughing. "I could kill
+myself for being so silly. Why is it, do you suppose, that I blu----"
+
+She checked herself, scarlet now, and sat motionless with her head
+bent over her clenched palm, and her lip bitten till it quivered.
+Perhaps a flash of sudden insight had answered her own question before
+she had even finished asking it. And the answer had left her silent,
+rigid, as though not daring to move. But her bitten lip trembled, and
+her breath, which had stopped, came swiftly now, desperately
+controlled. But there seemed to be no control for her violent little
+heart, which was racing away and setting every pulse a faster pace.
+
+Barres, more uneasy than amused, now, and having before this very
+unwillingly suspected Dulcie of an exaggerated sentiment concerning
+him, inspected her furtively and sideways.
+
+"I won't tease you any more," he repeated. "I'm sorry. But you
+understand, Sweetness; it's just a friendly tease--just because we're
+such good friends."
+
+"Yes," she nodded breathlessly. "Don't notice me, please. I don't seem
+to know how to behave myself when I'm with you----"
+
+"What nonsense, Dulcie! You're a wonderful comrade. We have bully
+times when we're together. Don't we?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then, for the love of Mike! What's a little teasing between
+friends? Buck up, Sweetness, and don't ever let me upset you again."
+
+"No." She turned and looked at him, laughed. But there was a wonderful
+beauty in her grey eyes and he noticed it.
+
+"You little kiddie," he said, "your eyes are all starry like a baby's!
+You are not growing up as fast as you think you are!"
+
+She laughed again deliciously:
+
+"How wise you are," she said.
+
+"Aha! So you're joshing me, now!"
+
+"But aren't you very, very wise?" she asked demurely.
+
+"You bet I am. And I'm going to prove it."
+
+"How, please?"
+
+"Listen, irreverent youngster! If you are going to Foreland Farms with
+me, you will require various species of clothes and accessories."
+
+At that she was frankly dismayed:
+
+"But I can't afford----"
+
+"Piffle! I advance you sufficient salary. Thessalie had better advise
+you in your shopping----" He hesitated, then: "You and Thessa seem to
+have become excellent friends rather suddenly."
+
+"She was so sweet to me," explained Dulcie. "I hadn't cared for her
+very much--that evening of the party--but to-day she came into your
+room, where I was lying on the bed, and she stood looking at me for a
+moment and then she said, 'Oh, you darling!' and dropped on her knees
+and drew me into her arms.... Wasn't that a curious thing to happen?
+I--I was too surprised to speak for a minute; then the loveliest
+shiver came over me and I--I cuddled up close to her--because I had
+never remembered being in mother's arms--and it seemed wonderful--I
+had wanted it so--dreamed sometimes--and awoke and cried myself to
+sleep again.... She was so sweet to me.... We talked.... She told me,
+finally, about the reason of her visit to you. Then she told me about
+herself.... So I became her friend very quickly. And I am sure that I
+am going to love her dearly.... And when I love"--she looked steadily
+away from him--"I would die to serve--my friend."
+
+The girl's quiet ardour, her simplicity and candour, attracted and
+interested him. Always he had seemed to be aware, in her, of hidden
+forces--of something fresh and charmingly impetuous held in leash--of
+controlled impulses, restless, uneasy, bitted, curbed, and reined in.
+
+Pride, perhaps, a natural reticence in the opposite sex--perhaps the
+habit of control in a girl whose childhood had had no outlet--some of
+these, he concluded, accounted for her subdued air, her restraint from
+demonstration. Save for the impulsive little hand on his arm at times,
+the slightest quiver of lip and voice, there was no sign of the
+high-strung, fresh young force that he vaguely divined within her.
+
+"Dulcie," he said, "how much do you know about the romance of your
+mother?"
+
+She lifted her grey eyes to his:
+
+"What romance?"
+
+"Why, her marriage."
+
+"Was that a romance?"
+
+"I gather, from your father, that your mother was very much above him
+in station."
+
+"Yes. He was a gamekeeper for my grandfather."
+
+"What was your mother's name?"
+
+"Eileen."
+
+"I mean her family name."
+
+"Fane."
+
+He was silent. She remained thoughtful, her chin resting between two
+fingers.
+
+"Once," she murmured, as though speaking to herself, "when my father
+was intoxicated, he said that Fane is my name, not Soane.... Do you
+know what he meant?"
+
+"No.... His name is Soane, isn't it?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Well, what do you suppose he meant, if he meant anything?"
+
+"I don't quite know."
+
+"He _is_ your father, isn't he?"
+
+She shook her head slowly:
+
+"Sometimes, when he is intoxicated, he says that he isn't. And once he
+added that my name is not Soane but Fane."
+
+"Did you question him?"
+
+"No. He only cries when he is that way.... Or talks about Ireland's
+wrongs."
+
+"Ask him some time."
+
+"I have asked him when he was sober. But he denied ever saying it."
+
+"Then ask him when he's the other way. I--well, to be frank, Dulcie,
+you haven't the slightest resemblance to your father--not the
+slightest--not in any mental or physical particular."
+
+"He says I'm like mother."
+
+"And her name was Eileen Fane," murmured Barres. "She must have been
+beautiful, Dulcie."
+
+"She was----" A bright blush stained her face, but this time she
+looked steadily at Barres and neither of them smiled.
+
+"She was in love with Murtagh Skeel," said Dulcie. "I wonder why she
+did not marry him."
+
+"You say her family objected."
+
+"Yes, but what of that, if she loved him?"
+
+"But even in those days he may have been a troublemaker and
+revolutionist----"
+
+"Does that matter if a girl is in love?"
+
+In Dulcie's voice there was again that breathless tone through which
+something rang faintly--something curbed back, held in restraint.
+
+"I suppose," he said, smiling, "that if one is in love nothing else
+matters."
+
+"Nothing matters," she said, half to herself. And he looked askance at
+her, and looked again with increasing curiosity.
+
+Westmore called across the room:
+
+"Thessalie and I are going shopping! Any objections?"
+
+A sudden and totally unexpected dart seemed to penetrate the heart
+region of Garret Barres. It was jealousy and it hurt.
+
+"No objection at all," he said, wondering how the devil Westmore had
+become so familiar with her name in such a very brief encounter.
+
+Thessalie rose and came over:
+
+"Dulcie, will you come with us?" she asked gaily.
+
+"That's a first rate idea," said Barres, cheering up. "Dulcie, tell
+her what things you have and she'll tell you what you need for
+Foreland Farms."
+
+"Indeed I will," cried Thessalie. "We'll make her perfectly adorable
+in a most economical manner. Shall we, dear?"
+
+And she held out her hand to Dulcie, and, smiling, turned her head and
+looked across the room at Westmore.
+
+Which troubled Barres and left him rather silent there in the studio
+after they had gone away. For he had rather fancied himself as the
+romance in Thessalie's life, and, at times, was inclined to
+sentimentalise a little about her.
+
+And now he permitted himself to wonder how much there really might be
+to that agreeable sentiment he entertained for, perhaps, the prettiest
+girl he had ever met in his life, and, possibly, the most delightful.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+THE BABBLER
+
+
+The double apartment in Dragon Court, swept by such vagrant July
+breezes as wandered into the heated city, had become lively with
+preparations for departure.
+
+Barres fussed about, collecting sketching paraphernalia, choosing
+brushes, colours, canvases, field kits, and costumes from his
+accumulated store, and boxing them for transportation to Foreland
+Farms, with the languid assistance of Aristocrates.
+
+Westmore had only to ship a modelling stand, a handful of sculptors'
+tools, and a ton or two of Plasteline, an evil-smelling composite
+clay, very useful to work with.
+
+But the storm centre of preparation revolved around Dulcie. And
+Thessalie, enchanted with her new role as adviser, bargainer, and
+purchaser, and always attaching either Westmore or Barres to her
+skirts when she and Dulcie sallied forth, was selecting and
+accumulating a charming and useful little impedimenta. For the young
+girl had never before owned a single pretty thing, except those first
+unpremeditated gifts of Barres', and her happiness in these
+expeditions was alloyed with trepidation at Thessalie's extravagance,
+and deep misgivings concerning her ultimate ability to repay out of
+the salary allowed her as a private model.
+
+Intoxicated by ownership, she watched Thessalie and Selinda laying
+away in her brand-new trunk the lovely things which had been
+selected. And one day, thrilled but bewildered, she went into the
+studio, where Barres sat opening his mail, and confessed her fear that
+only lifelong devotion in his service could ever liquidate her
+overwhelming financial obligations to him.
+
+He had begun to laugh when she opened the subject:
+
+"Thessa is managing it," he said. "It looks like a lot of expense, but
+it isn't. Don't worry about it, Sweetness."
+
+"I _do_ worry----"
+
+"Now, what a ridiculous thing to do!" he interrupted. "It's merely
+advanced salary--your own money. I told you to blow it; I'm
+responsible. And I shall arrange it so you won't notice that you are
+repaying the loan. All I want you to do is to have a good time about
+it."
+
+"I am having a good time--when it doesn't scare me to spend so much
+for----"
+
+"Can't you trust Thessa and me?"
+
+The girl dropped to her knees beside his chair in a swift passion of
+gratitude:
+
+"Oh, I trust you--I do----" But she could not utter another word, and
+only pressed her face against his arm in the tense silence of emotions
+which were too powerful to express, too deep and keen to comprehend or
+to endure.
+
+And she sprang to her feet, flushed, confused, turning from him as he
+retained one hand and drew her back:
+
+"Dear child," he said, in his pleasant voice, "this is really a
+very little thing I do for you, compared to the help you have
+given me by hard, unremitting, uncomplaining physical labour and
+endurance. There is no harder work than holding a pose for painter
+or sculptor--nothing more cruelly fatiguing. Add to that your
+cheerfulness, your willingness, your quiet, loyal, unobtrusive
+companionship--and the freshness and inspiration and interest ever
+new which you always awake in me--tell me, Sweetness, are you really
+in my debt, or am I in yours?"
+
+"I am in yours. You made me."
+
+"You always say that. It's foolish. You made yourself, Dulcie. You are
+making yourself all the while. Why, good heavens!--if you hadn't had
+it in you, somehow, to ignore your surroundings--take the school
+opportunities offered you--close your eyes and ears to the sights and
+sounds and habits of what was supposed to be your home----"
+
+He checked himself, thinking of Soane, and his brogue, and his
+ignorance and his habits.
+
+"How the devil you escaped it all I can't understand," he muttered to
+himself. "Even when I first knew you, there was nothing resembling
+your--your father about you--even if you were almost in rags!"
+
+"I had been with the Sisters until I went to high school," she
+murmured. "It makes a difference in a child's mind what is said and
+thought by those around her."
+
+"Of course. But, Dulcie, it is usually the unfortunate rule that the
+lower subtly contaminates the higher, even in casual association--that
+the weaker gradually undermines the stronger until it sinks to lesser
+levels. It has not been so with you. Your clear mind remained
+untarnished, your aspiration uncontaminated. Somewhere within you had
+been born the quality of recognition; and when your eyes opened on
+better things you recognised them and did not forget after they
+disappeared----"
+
+Again he ceased speaking, aware, suddenly, that for the first time he
+was making the effort to analyse this girl for his own information.
+Heretofore, he had accepted her, sometimes curious, sometimes amused,
+puzzled, doubtful, even uneasy as her mind revealed itself by degrees
+and her character glimmered through in little fitful gleams from that
+still hidden thing, herself.
+
+He began to speak again, before he knew he was speaking--indeed, as
+though within him somewhere another man were using his lips and voice
+as vehicles:
+
+"You know, Dulcie, it's not going to end--our companionship. Your real
+life is all ahead of you; it's already beginning--the life which is
+properly yours to shape and direct and make the most of.
+
+"I don't know what kind of life yours is going to be; I know, merely,
+that your career doesn't lie down stairs in the superintendent's
+lodgings. And this life of ours here in the studio is only temporary,
+only a phase of your development toward clearer aims, higher
+aspiration, nobler effort.
+
+"Tranquillity, self-respect, intelligent responsibility, the
+happiness of personal independence are the prizes: the path on which
+you have started leads to the only pleasure man has ever really
+known--labour."
+
+He looked down at her hand lying within his own, stroked the slender
+fingers thoughtfully, noticing the whiteness and fineness of them, now
+that they had rested for three months from their patient martyrdom in
+Soane's service.
+
+"I'll talk to my mother and sister about it," he concluded. "All you
+need is a start in whatever you're going to do in life. And you bet
+you're going to get it, Sweetness!"
+
+He patted her hand, laughed, and released it. She couldn't speak just
+then--she tried to as she stood there, head averted and grey eyes
+brilliant with tears--but she could not utter a sound.
+
+Perhaps aware that her overcharged heart was meddling with her voice,
+he merely smiled as he watched her moving slowly back to Thessalie's
+room, where the magic trunk was being packed. Then he turned to his
+letters again. One was from his mother:
+
+  "Garry darling, anybody you bring to Foreland is always welcome,
+  as you know. Your family never inquires of its members concerning
+  any guests they may see fit to invite. Bring Miss Dunois and
+  Dulcie Soane, your little model, if you like. There's a world of
+  room here; nobody ever interferes with anybody else. You and your
+  guests have two thousand acres to roam about in, ride over, fish
+  over, paint over. There's plenty for everybody to do, alone or in
+  company.
+
+  "Your father is well. He looks little older than you. He's fishing
+  most of the time, or busy reforesting that sandy region beyond the
+  Foreland hills.
+
+  "Your sister and I ride as usual and continue to improve the
+  breeds of the various domestic creatures in which we are
+  interested and you are not.
+
+  "The pheasants are doing well this year, and we're beginning to
+  turn them out with their foster-mothers.
+
+  "Your father wishes me to tell you and Jim Westmore that the trout
+  fishing is still fairly good, although it was better, of course,
+  in May and June.
+
+  "The usual parties and social amenities continue in Northbrook.
+  Everybody included in that colony seems to have arrived, also the
+  usual influx of guests, and there is much entertaining, tennis,
+  golf, dances--the invariable card always offered there.
+
+  "Claire and I go enough to keep from being too completely
+  forgotten. Your father seldom bothers himself.
+
+  "Also, the war in Europe has made us, at Foreland, disinclined to
+  frivolity. Others, too, of the older society in Northbrook are
+  more subdued than usual, devote themselves to quieter pursuits.
+  And those among us who have sons of military age are prone to
+  take life soberly in these strange, oppressive days when even
+  under sunny skies in this land aloof from war, all are conscious
+  of the tension, the vague foreboding, the brooding stillness that
+  sometimes heralds storms.
+
+  "But all north-country folk do not feel this way. The Gerhardts,
+  for example, are very gay with a house full of guests and
+  overflowing week-ends. The German Embassy, as always, is well
+  represented at Hohenlinden. Your father won't go there at all now.
+  As for Claire and myself, we await political ruptures before we
+  indulge in social ones. And it doesn't look like war, now that Von
+  Tirpitz has been sent to Coventry.
+
+  "This, Garry darling, is my budget of news. Bring your guests
+  whenever you please. You wouldn't bring anybody you oughtn't to;
+  your family is liberal, informal, pleasantly indifferent, and
+  always delightfully busy with its individual manias and fads; so
+  come as soon as you please--sooner, please--because, strange as it
+  may seem, your mother would like to see you."
+
+The letter was what he had expected. But, as always, it made him very
+grateful.
+
+"Wonderful mother I have," he murmured, opening another letter from
+his father:
+
+  "DEAR GARRET:
+
+  "Why the devil don't you come up? You've missed the cream of the
+  fishing. There's nothing doing in the streams now, but at sunrise
+  and toward evening they're breaking nicely in the lake.
+
+  "I've put in sixty thousand three-year transplants this year on
+  that sandy stretch. They are white, Scotch and Austrian. Your
+  children will enjoy them.
+
+  "The dogs are doing well. There's one youngster, the litter-tyrant
+  of Goldenrod's brood, who ought to make a field winner. But
+  there's no telling. You and I'll have 'em out on native woodcock.
+
+  "There are some grouse, but we ought to let them alone for the
+  next few years. As for the pheasants, they're everywhere now, in
+  the brake, silver-grass, and weeds, peeping, scurrying,
+  creeping--cunning little beggars and growing wild as quail.
+
+  "The horses are all right. The crops promise well. Labour is
+  devilish scarce, and unsatisfactory when induced to accept
+  preposterous wages. What we need are coolies, if these lazy,
+  native slackers continue to handicap the farmers who have to
+  employ them. The American 'hired man'! He makes me sick. With few
+  exceptions, he is incredibly stupid, ignorant, unwilling, lazy.
+
+  "He's sometimes a crook, too; he takes pay for what he doesn't do;
+  he steals your time; he cares absolutely nothing about your
+  interests or convenience; he will leave you stranded in harvest
+  time, without any notice at all; decent treatment he does not
+  appreciate; he'll go without a warning even, leaving your horses
+  unfed, your cattle unwatered, your crops rotting!
+
+  "He's a degenerate relic of those real men who broke up the
+  primaeval wilderness. He is the reason for high prices, the cause
+  of agricultural and industrial distress, the inert, sodden,
+  fermenting, indigestible mass in the belly of the body-politic!
+
+  "The American hired man! If the country doesn't spew him up, he'll
+  kill it!
+
+  "Perhaps you've heard me before on this subject, Garret. I'm
+  likely to air my views, you know.
+
+  "Well, my son, I look forward to your arrival. I am glad that
+  Westmore is coming with you. As for your other guests, they are
+  welcome, of course.
+
+  "Your father,
+
+  "REGINALD BARRES."
+
+He laughed; this letter so perfectly revealed his father.
+
+"Dad and his trout and his birds and his pines and his eternally
+accursed hired help," he said to himself, "Dad and his monocle and his
+immaculate attire--the finest man who ever fussed!" And he laughed
+tenderly to himself as he broke the seal of his sister's brief note:
+
+  "Garry dear, I've been so busy schooling horses and dancing that
+  I've had no time for letter writing. So glad you're coming at
+  last. Bring along any good novels you see. My best to Jim. Your
+  guests can be well mounted, if they ride. Father is wild because
+  there are more foxes than usual, but he's promised not to treat
+  them as vermin, and the Northbrook pack is to hunt our territory
+  this season, after all. Poor Dad! He is a brick, isn't he?"
+
+  "Affectionately,
+
+  "LEE."
+
+Barres pocketed his sheaf of letters and began to stroll about the
+studio, whistling the air of some recent musical atrocity.
+
+Westmore, in his own room, composing verses--a secret vice unsuspected
+by Barres--bade him "Shut up!"--the whistling no doubt ruining his
+metre.
+
+But Barres, with politest intentions, forgot himself so many times
+that the other man locked up his "Lines to Thessalie when she was
+sewing on a button for me," and came into the studio.
+
+"Where is she?" he inquired naively.
+
+"Where's who?" demanded Barres, still sensitive over the increasing
+intimacy of this headlong young man and Thessalie Dunois.
+
+"Thessa."
+
+"In there fussing with Dulcie's togs. Go ahead in, if you care to."
+
+"Is your stuff packed up?"
+
+Barres nodded:
+
+"Is yours?"
+
+"Most of it. How many trunks is Thessa taking?"
+
+"How do I know?" said Barres, with a trace of irritation. "She's at
+liberty to take as many as she likes."
+
+Westmore didn't notice the irritation; his mind was entirely occupied
+by Thessalie--an intellectual condition which had recently become
+rather painfully apparent to Barres, and, doubtless, equally if not
+painfully apparent to Thessalie herself.
+
+Probably Dulcie noticed it, too, but gave no sign, except when the
+serious grey eyes stole toward Barres at times, as though vaguely
+apprehensive that he might not be entirely in sympathy with Westmore's
+enchanted state of mind.
+
+As for Thessalie, though Westmore's naive and increasing devotion
+could scarcely escape her notice, it was utterly impossible to tell
+how it affected her--whether, indeed, it made any impression at all.
+
+For there seemed to be no difference in her attitude toward these two
+men; it was plain enough that she liked them both--that she believed
+in them implicitly, was happy with them, tranquil now in her new
+security, and deeply penetrated with gratitude for their kindness to
+her in her hour of need.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Come on in," coaxed Westmore, linking his arm in Barres', and
+counting on the latter to give him countenance.
+
+The arm of Barres remained rigid and unresponsive, but his legs were
+reluctantly obliging and carried him along with Westmore to what had
+been his own room before Thessalie had installed herself there.
+
+And there she was on her knees, amid a riot of lingerie and feminine
+effects, while Dulcie lovingly smoothed out and folded object after
+object which Selinda placed between layers of pale blue tissue paper
+in the trunks.
+
+"How are things going, Thessa?" inquired Westmore, in the hearty,
+cheerful voice of the intruder who hopes to be made welcome. But her
+attitude was discouraging.
+
+"You know you are only in the way," she said. "Drive him out,
+Dulcie!"
+
+Dulcie laughed and looked at them both with shyly friendly eyes:
+
+"Is my trousseau not beautiful?" she asked. "If you'll step outside
+I'll put on a hat and gown for you----"
+
+"Oh, Dulcie!" protested Thessalie, "I want you to dawn upon them, and
+a dress rehearsal would spoil it all!"
+
+Westmore tiptoed around amid lovely, frail mounds of fabrics, until
+ordered to an empty chair and forbidden further motion. It was all the
+same to him, so long as his fascinated gaze could rest on Thessalie.
+
+Which further annoyed Barres, and he backed out and walked to the
+studio, considerably disturbed in his mind.
+
+"That man," he thought, "is making an ass of himself, hanging around
+Thessa like a half-witted child. She can't help noticing it, but she
+doesn't seem to do anything about it. I don't know why she doesn't
+squelch him--unless she likes it----" But the idea was so unpleasant
+to Barres that he instantly abandoned that train of thought and
+prepared for himself a comfortable nest on the lounge, a pipe, and an
+uncut volume of flimsy summer fiction.
+
+In the middle of these somewhat sullen preparations, there came a ring
+at his studio door. Only the superintendent or strangers rang that
+bell as a rule, and Barres went to his desk, slipped his loaded pistol
+into his coat pocket, then walked to the door and opened it.
+
+Soane stood there, his face a shiny-red from drink, his legs steady
+enough. As usual when drunk, he was inclined to be garrulous.
+
+"What's the matter?" inquired Barres in a low voice.
+
+"Wisha, Misther Barres, sorr, av ye're not too busy f'r to----"
+
+"S-h-h! Don't bellow at the top of your voice. Wait a moment!"
+
+He picked up his hat and came out into the corridor, closing the
+studio door behind him so that Dulcie, if she appeared on the scene,
+should not be humiliated before the others.
+
+Soane began again, but the other cut him short:
+
+"Don't start talking here," he said. "Come down to your own quarters
+if you're going to yell your head off!" And he led the way,
+impatiently, down the stairs, past the desk where Miss Kurtz sat
+stolid and mottled-faced as a lump of uncooked sausage, and into
+Soane's quarters.
+
+"Now, you listen to me first!" he said when Soane had entered and he
+had closed the door behind them. "You keep out of my apartment and out
+of Dulcie's way, too, when you're drunk! You're not going to last very
+long on this job; I can see that plainly----"
+
+"Faith, sorr, you're right! I'm fired out entirely this blessed
+minute!"
+
+"You've been discharged?"
+
+"I have that, sorr!"
+
+"What for? Drunkenness?"
+
+"Th' divil do I know phwat for! Wisha, then, Misther Barres, is there
+anny harrm av a man----"
+
+"Yes, there is! I told you Grogan's would do the trick for you. Now
+you're discharged without a reference, I suppose."
+
+Soane smiled airily:
+
+"Misther Barres, dear, don't lave that worrit ye! I want no riference
+from anny landlord. Sure, landlords is tyrants, too! An' phwat the
+divil should I be wantin'----"
+
+"What are you going to do then?"
+
+Soane hooked both thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and swaggered
+about the room:
+
+"God bless yer kind heart, sorr, I've a-plenty to do and more for good
+measure!" He came up to confront Barres, and laid a mysterious finger
+alongside his over-red nose and began to brag:
+
+"There's thim in high places as looks afther the likes o' me, sorr.
+There's thim that thrusts me, thim that depinds on me----"
+
+"Have you another job?"
+
+Soane's scorn was superb:
+
+"A job is ut? Misther Barres, dear, I was injuced f'r to accept a
+_position_ of grave importance!"
+
+"Here in town?"
+
+"Somewhere around tin thousand miles away or thereabouts," remarked
+Soane airily.
+
+"Do you mean to take Dulcie with you?"
+
+"Musha, then, Misther Barres, 'tis why I come to ye above f'r to ax ye
+will ye look afther Dulcie av I go away on me thravels?"
+
+"Yes, I will!... Where are you going? What is all this stuff you're
+talking, anyway----"
+
+"Shtuff? God be good to you, it's no shtuff I talk, Misther Barres!
+Sure, can't a decent man thravel f'r to see the wurruld as God made it
+an' no harrm in----"
+
+"Be careful what company you travel in," said Barres, looking at him
+intently. "You have been travelling around New York in very suspicious
+company, Soane. I know more about it than you think I do. And it
+wouldn't surprise me if you have a run-in with the police some day."
+
+"The po-lice, sorr! Arrah, then, me fut in me hand an' me tongue in me
+cheek to the likes o' thim! An' lave them go hoppin' afther me av
+they like. The po-lice is ut! Open y'r two ears, asthore, an' listen
+here!--there'll be nary po-lice, no nor constabulary, nor excise, nor
+landlords the day that Ireland flies her flag on Dublin Castle! Sure,
+that will be the grand sight, with all the rats a-runnin', an' all the
+hurryin' and scurryin' an' the futther and mutther----"
+
+"_What_ are you gabbling about, Soane? What's all this boasting
+about?"
+
+"Gabble is ut? Is it boastin' I am? Sorra the day! An' there do be
+grand gintlemen and gay ladies to-day that shall look for a roof an' a
+sup o' tay this day three weeks, when th' fut o' the tyrant is lifted
+from the neck of Ireland an' the landlords is runnin' for their
+lives----"
+
+"I thought so!" exclaimed Barres, disgusted.
+
+"An' phwat was ye thinkin', sorr?"
+
+"That your German friends at Grogan's are stirring up trouble among
+the Irish. What's all this nonsense, anyway? Are they trying to
+persuade you to follow the old Fenian tactics and raid Canada? Or is
+it an armed expedition to the Irish coast? You'd better be careful;
+they'll only lock you up here, but it's a hanging matter over there!"
+
+"Is it so?" grinned Soane.
+
+"It surely is."
+
+"Well, then, be aisy, Misther Barres, dear. Av there's hangin' to be
+done this time, 'twill not be thim as wears the green that hangs!"
+
+Barres slowly shook his head:
+
+"This is German work. You're sticking your neck into the noose."
+
+"Lave the noose for the Clan-na-Gael to pull, sorr, an' 'twill
+shqueeze no Irish neck!"
+
+"You're a fool, Soane! These Germans are exploiting such men as you.
+Where's your common sense? Can't you see you're playing a German game?
+What do they care what becomes of you or of Ireland? All they want is
+for you to annoy England at any cost. And the cost is death! Do you
+dream for an instant that you and your friends stand a ghost of a
+chance if you are crazy enough to invade Canada? Do you suppose it
+possible to land an expedition on the Irish coast?"
+
+Soane deliberately winked at him. Then he burst into laughter and
+stood rocking there on heel and toe while his mirth lasted.
+
+But the inevitable Celtic reaction presently sobered him and switched
+him into a sombre recapitulation of Erin's wrongs. And this tragic
+inventory brought the inevitable tears in time. And Woe awoke in him
+the memory of the personal and pathetic.
+
+The world had dealt him a wretched hand. He had sat in a crooked game
+from the beginning. The cards had been stacked; the dice were cogged.
+And now he meant to make the world disgorge--pay up the living that it
+owed him.
+
+Barres attempted to stem the flow of volubility, but it instantly
+became a torrent.
+
+Nobody knew the sorrows of Ireland or of the Irish. Tyranny had marked
+them for its own. As for himself--once a broth of a boy--he had been
+torn from the sacred precincts of his native shanty and consigned to a
+loveless, unhappy marriage.
+
+Then Barres listened without interrupting. But the woes of Soane
+became vague at that point. Veiled references to being "thrampled on,"
+to "th' big house," to "thim that was high an' shtiff-necked,"
+abounded in an unconnected way. There was something about being a
+servant at the fireside of his own wife--a footstool on the hearth of
+his own home--other incomprehensible plaints and mutterings, many
+scalding tears, a blub or two, and a sort of whining silence.
+
+Then Barres said:
+
+"Who is Dulcie, Soane?"
+
+The man, seated now on his bed, lifted a congested and stupid visage
+as though he had not comprehended.
+
+"Is Dulcie your daughter?" demanded Barres.
+
+Soane's blue eyes wandered wildly in an agony of recollection:
+
+"Did I say she was _not_, sorr?" he faltered. "Av I told ye that, may
+the saints forgive me----"
+
+"Is it true?"
+
+"Ah, what was I afther sayin', Misther----"
+
+"Never mind what you said or left unsaid! I want to ask you another
+question. Who was Eileen Fane?"
+
+Soane bounded to his feet, his blue eyes ablaze:
+
+"Holy Mother o' God! What have I said!"
+
+"Was Eileen Fane your wife?"
+
+"Did I say her blessed name!" shouted Soane. "Sorra the sup I tuk that
+loosed the tongue o' me this cursed day! 'Twas the dommed whishkey
+inside o' me that told ye that--not me--not Larry Soane! Wurra the day
+I said it! An' listen, now, f'r the love o' God! Take pride to
+yourself, sorr, for all the goodness ye done to Dulcie.
+
+"An' av I go, and I come no more to vex her, I thank God 'tis in a
+gintleman's hands the child do be----" He choked; his marred hands
+dropped by his side, and he stared dumbly at Barres for a moment.
+Then:
+
+"Av I come no more, will ye guard her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Will ye do fair by her, Misther Barres?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Call God to hear ye say ut!"
+
+"So--help me--God."
+
+Soane dropped on to the bed and took his battered face and curly head
+between his hands.
+
+"I'll say no more," he said thickly. "Nor you nor she shall know no
+more. An' av ye have guessed it out, kape it locked in. I'll say no
+more.... I was good to her--in me own way. But ye cud see--anny wan
+with half a cock-eye cud see.... I was--honest--with her mother....
+She made the bargain.... I tuk me pay an' held me tongue.... 'Tis
+whishkey talks, not me.... I tuk me pay an' I kept to the bargain....
+Wan year.... Then--she was dead of it--like a flower, sorr--like the
+rose ye pull an' lave lyin' in the sun.... Like that, sorr--in a
+year.... An' I done me best be Dulcie.... I done me best. An' held to
+the bargain.... An' done me best be Dulcie--little Dulcie--the wee
+baby that had come at last--_her_ baby--Dulcie Fane!..."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+A CHANCE ENCOUNTER
+
+
+A single shaded lamp illuminated the studio, making the shapes of
+things vague where outline and colour were lost in the golden dusk.
+Dulcie, alone at the piano, accompanied her own voice with soft,
+scarcely heard harmonies, as she hummed, one after another, old
+melodies she had learned from the Sisters so long ago--"The Harp,"
+"Shandon Bells," "The Exile," "Shannon Water"--songs of that sort and
+period:
+
+    "_The Bells of Shandon,
+    Then sound so grand on
+  The pleasant waters of the River Lee._"
+
+Thessalie sat by the open window and Westmore squatted at her feet on
+the sill of the little balcony, doing, as usual, all the talking while
+she lay deep in her armchair waving her fan, listening, responding
+with a low-voiced laugh or word now and again.
+
+Dulcie sang:
+
+    "_On the banks of the Shannon
+  When Mary was nigh._"
+
+From that she changed to a haunting, poignant little song; and Barres
+looked up from his desk under the lamp. Then he sealed and stamped the
+three letters which he had written to his Foreland kinfolk, and,
+holding them in one hand, took his hat from the table with the other,
+as though preparing to rise. Dulcie half turned her head, her hands
+still idling over the shadowy keys:
+
+"Are you going out?"
+
+"Just to the corner."
+
+"Why don't you mail your letters down stairs?"
+
+"I'll step around to the branch post office; they'll go quicker....
+What was that air you were playing just now?"
+
+"It is called 'Mea Culpa.'"
+
+"Play it again."
+
+She turned to the keys, recommenced the Celtic air, and sang in a
+clear, childish voice:
+
+  "Wake, little maid!
+  Red dawns the morn,
+  The last stars fade,
+  The day is born;
+  Now the first lark wings high in air,
+  And sings the Virgin's praises there!
+
+  "I am afraid
+  To see the morn;
+  I lie dismayed
+  Beside the thorn.
+  Gazing at God with frightened eyes,
+  Where larks are singing in the skies.
+
+      II
+
+  "Why, mourn, dear maid,
+  Alone, forlorn,
+  White and afraid
+  Beside the thorn,
+  With weeping eyes and sobbing breath
+  And fair sweet face as pale as death?
+
+  "For love repayed
+  By Mary's scorn,
+  I weep, betrayed
+  By one unborn!
+  Where can a poor lass hide her head
+  Till day be done and she be dead!"
+
+The voice and playing lingered among the golden shadows, hushed to a
+whisper, ceased.
+
+"Is it very old, that sad little song?" he asked at last.
+
+"My mother wrote it.... There is the _Mea Culpa_, still, which ends
+it. Shall I sing it?"
+
+"Go on," he nodded.
+
+So she sang the _Mea Culpa_:
+
+      III
+
+    "Winds in the whinns
+     Shall kene for me--
+  (_For Love is Love though men be men!_)
+     Till all my sins
+     Forgiven be--
+  (_Maxima culpa, Lord. Amen._)
+     And Mary's grace my fault shall purge,
+     While skylarks plead my cause above,
+     And breezy rivers sing my dirge,
+     Because I loved and died of Love.
+  (_I love, and die of Love!_)
+               Amen."
+
+When the soft cadence of the last notes was stilled, Dulcie turned
+once more toward him in the uncertain light.
+
+"It's very lovely," he said, "and dreadfully triste. The air alone is
+enough to break your heart."
+
+"My mother, when she wrote it, was unhappy, I imagine----" She swung
+slowly around to face the keys again.
+
+"Do you know why she was so unhappy?"
+
+"She fell in love," said the girl over her shoulder. "And it saddened
+her life, I think."
+
+He sat motionless for a while. Dulcie did not turn again. Presently he
+rose and walked slowly out and down stairs, carrying his letters with
+him.
+
+The stolid, mottled-faced German girl was on duty at the desk, and she
+favoured him with a sour look, as usual.
+
+"There was a gen'l'man to see you," she mumbled.
+
+"When?"
+
+"Just now. I didn't know you was in."
+
+"Well, why didn't you ring up the apartment and find out?" he
+demanded.
+
+She gave him a sullen look:
+
+"Here's his card," she said, shoving it across the desk.
+
+Barres picked up the card. "Georges Renoux, Architect," he read.
+"Hotel Astor" was pencilled in the corner.
+
+Barres knit his brows, trying to evoke in his memory a physiognomy to
+fit a name which seemed hazily familiar.
+
+"Did the gentleman leave any message?" he asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, please don't make another mistake of this kind," he said.
+
+She stared at him like a sulky sow, her little eyes red with malice.
+
+"Where is Soane?" he inquired.
+
+"Out."
+
+"Where did he go?"
+
+"I didn't ask him," she replied, with a slight sneer.
+
+"I wish to see him," continued Barres patiently. "Could you tell me
+whether he was likely to go to Grogans?"
+
+"What's Grogan's?"
+
+"Grogan's Cafe on Third Avenue--where Soane hangs out," he managed to
+explain calmly. "You know where it is. You have called him up there."
+
+"I don't know nothin' about it," she grunted, resuming the greasy
+novel she had been reading.
+
+But when Barres, now thoroughly incensed, turned to leave, her small,
+pig-like eyes peeped slyly after him. And after he had disappeared
+through the corridor into the street she hastily unhooked the
+transmitter and called Grogan's.
+
+"This is Martha.... Martha Kurtz. Yes, I want Frank Lehr.... Is that
+you, Frank?... The artist, Barres, who was pumping Soane the other
+night, is after him again. I told you how I listened at the door, and
+how I heard that Irish souse blabbing and bragging.... What?...
+Sure!... Barres was at the desk just now inquiring if Soane had gone
+to Grogan's.... You bet!... Barres is leery since _K17_ hit him with a
+gun. Sure; he's stickin' his nose into everything.... Look out for
+him, if he comes around Grogan's askin' for Soane.... And say; there
+was a French guy here callin' on Barres. I knew he was in, but I said
+he was out. I was just goin' to call you when Barres came down....
+Yes, I got his name.... Wait, I copied it out.... Here it is, 'Georges
+Renoux, Architect.' And he wrote 'Hotel Astor' in the corner.
+
+"Yes, he said tell Barres to call him up. Naw, I didn't give him the
+message.... You don't say! Is that right? He's one o' them nosey
+Frenchman? _A captain_?... Gee!... What's his lay?... In New York?
+Well, you better watch out then.... Sure, I'll ring you if he comes
+back!... No, there ain't no news.... Yes, I was to the Astor grille
+last night, and I talked to _K17_.... There was a guy higher up there.
+I don't know who. He looked like he was a dark complected Jew....
+_Ferez Bey_?... Gee!... You expect Skeel? To-night? Doin' _what_? You
+think this man Renoux is watchin' the Clan-na-Gael? Well, you better
+tell Soane to shut his mouth then.
+
+"Yes, that Dunois girl is here still. It's a pity _K17_ lost his
+nerve.... Well, you better look out for her and for Barres, too.
+They're as thick as last year honey!
+
+"All right, I'll let you know anything. Bye-bye."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Barres, walking leisurely up the street, kept watching for Soane
+somewhere along the block; but could see nobody in the darkness,
+resembling him.
+
+Outdoors the July night was cooler; young girls, hatless, in summer
+frocks, gathered on stoops or strolled through the lamplit dark.
+Somewhere a piano sounded, not unpleasantly.
+
+In the branch post office he mailed his letters, turned to go out, and
+caught sight of Soane passing along the sidewalk just outside.
+
+And with him was the one-eyed man, Max Freund--the man who, perhaps,
+had robbed Dulcie of half the letter.
+
+His first emotion was sheer anger, and it started him toward the door,
+bent on swift but unconsidered vengeance.
+
+But before this impulse culminated in his collaring the one-eyed man,
+sufficient common sense came to the rescue. A row meant publicity, and
+an inquiry by authority would certainly involve the writer of the
+partly stolen letter--Thessalie Dunois.
+
+Cool and collected now, but mad all through, Barres continued to
+follow Soane and Freund, dropping back several yards to keep out of
+sight, and trying to make up his mind what he ought to do.
+
+The cross street was fairly well lighted; there seemed to be plenty of
+evening strollers abroad, so that he was not particularly conspicuous
+on the long block between Sixth and Fifth Avenues.
+
+The precious pair, arriving at Fifth Avenue, halted, blocked by the
+normal rush of automobiles, unchecked now by a traffic policeman.
+
+So Barres halted, too, and drew back alongside a shop window.
+
+And, as he stopped and stepped aside, he saw a man pause on the
+sidewalk across the street and move back cautiously into the shadow of
+a facade opposite.
+
+There was nothing significant in the occurrence; Barres merely
+happened to notice it; then he turned his eyes toward Soane and
+Freund, who now were crossing Fifth Avenue. And he went after them,
+with no definite idea in his head.
+
+Soane and Freund walked on eastward; a tramcar on Madison Avenue
+stopped them once more; and, as Barres also halted behind them and
+stepped aside into the shadows, there, just across the street, he saw
+the same man again halt, retire, and stand motionless in a recess
+between two shop windows.
+
+Barres tried to keep one eye on him and the other on Soane and Freund.
+The two latter were crossing Madison Avenue; and as soon as they had
+crossed, still headed east, the man on the other side of the street
+came out of his shadowy recess and started eastward, too.
+
+Then Barres also started, but now he was watching the man across the
+street as well as keeping Soane and Freund in view--watching the
+former solitary individual with increasing curiosity.
+
+Was that man keeping an eye on him? Was he following Soane and Freund?
+Was he, in fact, following anybody, and had the lively imagination of
+Barres begun to make something out of nothing?
+
+At Park Avenue Freund and Soane paused, not apparently because of any
+vehicular congestion impeding their progress, but they seemed to be
+engaged in vehement conversation, Soane's excitable tones reaching
+Barres, where he had halted again beside the tradesmen's gate of a
+handsome private house.
+
+And once more, across the street the solitary figure also halted and
+stood unstirring under a porte-cochere.
+
+Barres, straining his eyes, strove to make out details of his features
+and dress. And presently he concluded that, though the man did turn
+and glance in his direction occasionally, his attention was
+principally fixed on Soane and Freund.
+
+His movements, too, seemed to corroborate this idea, because as soon
+as they started across Park Avenue the man on the opposite side of the
+street was in instant motion. And Barres, now intensely curious,
+walked eastward once more, following all three.
+
+At Lexington Avenue Soane sheered off and, despite the clutch of
+Freund, went into a saloon. Freund finally followed.
+
+As usual, across the street the solitary figure had stopped. Barres,
+also immobile, kept him in view. Evidently he, too, was awaiting the
+reappearance of Soane and Freund.
+
+Suddenly Barres made up his mind to have a good look at him. He walked
+to the corner, walked over to the south side of the street, turned
+west, and slowly sauntered past the man, looking him deliberately in
+the face.
+
+As for the stranger, far from shrinking or avoiding the scrutiny, he
+on his part betrayed a very lively interest in the physiognomy of
+Barres; and as that young man approached he found himself scanned by a
+brilliant and alert pair of eyes, as keen as a fox-terrier's.
+
+In frank but subtly hostile curiosity their glances met and crossed.
+Then, in an instant, a rather odd smile glimmered in the stranger's
+eyes, twitched at his pleasant mouth, just shaded by a tiny
+moustache:
+
+"If you please, sir," he said in a low, amused voice, "you will
+not--as they say in New York--butt in."
+
+Barres, astonished, stood quite still. The young man continued to
+regard him with a very intelligent and slightly ironical expression:
+
+"I do not know, of course," he said, "whether you are of the city
+police, the State service, the Post Office, the Department of Justice,
+the Federal Secret Service"--he shrugged expressive shoulders--"but
+this I do know very well, that through lack of proper coordination in
+the branches of all your departments of City, State, and Federal
+surety, there is much bungling, much working at cross purposes, much
+interference, and many blunders.
+
+"Therefore, I beg of you not to do anything further in the matter
+which very evidently occupies you." And he bowed and glanced across at
+the saloon into which Soane and Freund had disappeared.
+
+Barres was thinking hard. He drew out his cigarette case, lighted a
+cigarette, came to his conclusions:
+
+"You are watching Freund and Soane?" he asked bluntly.
+
+"And you, sir? Are you observing the stars?" inquired the young man,
+evidently amused at something or other unperceived by Barres.
+
+The latter said, frankly and pleasantly:
+
+"I _am_ following those two men. It is evident that you are, also. So
+may I ask, have you any idea where they are going?"
+
+"I can guess, perhaps."
+
+"To Grogan's?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Suppose," said Barres quietly, "I put myself under your orders and go
+along with you."
+
+The strange young man was much diverted:
+
+"In your kind suggestion there appears to be concealed a germ of
+common sense," he said. "In which particular service are you employed,
+sir?"
+
+"And you?" inquired Barres, smilingly.
+
+"I imagine you may have guessed," said the young man, evidently
+greatly amused at something or other.
+
+Sheer intuition prompted Barres, and he took a chance.
+
+"Yes, I have ventured to guess that you are an Intelligence Officer in
+the French service, and secretly on duty in the United States."
+
+The young man winced but forced a very bland smile.
+
+"My compliments, whether your guess is born of certainty or not. And
+you, sir? May I inquire your status?"
+
+"I'm merely a civilian with a season's Plattsburg training as my only
+professional experience. I'm afraid you won't believe this, but it's
+quite true. I'm not in either Municipal, State, or Federal service.
+But I don't believe I can stand this Hun business much longer without
+enlisting with the Canadians."
+
+"Oh. May I ask, then, why you follow that pair yonder?"
+
+"I'll tell you why. I am a painter. I live at Dragon Court. Soane, an
+Irishman, is superintendent of the building. I have reason to believe
+that German propagandists have been teaching him disloyalty under
+promise of aiding Ireland to secure political independence.
+
+"Coming out of the branch post office this evening, where I had taken
+some letters, I saw Soane and that fellow, Freund. I really couldn't
+tell you exactly what my object was in following them, except that I
+itched to beat up the German and refrained because of the inevitable
+notoriety that must follow.
+
+"Perhaps I had a vague idea of following them to Grogan's, where I
+knew they were bound, just to look over the place and see for myself
+what that German rendezvous is like.
+
+"Anyway, what kept me on their trail was noticing _you_; and your
+behaviour aroused my curiosity. That is the entire truth concerning
+myself and this affair. And if you believe me, and if you think I can
+be of any service to you, take me along with you. If not, then I shall
+certainly not interfere with whatever you are engaged in."
+
+For a few moments the young Intelligence Officer looked intently at
+Barres, the same amused, inexplicable smile on his face. Then:
+
+"Your name," he said, with malicious gaiety, "is Garret Barres."
+
+At that Barres completely lost countenance, but the other man began to
+laugh:
+
+"Certainly you are Garry Barres, a painter, a celebrated Beaux Arts
+man of----"
+
+"Good heavens!" exclaimed Barres, "_you_ are Renoux! You are little
+Georges Renoux, of the atelier Ledoux!--on the architect's side!--you
+are that man who left his card for me this evening! I've seen you
+often! You were a little devil of a nouveau!--but you were always the
+centre of every bit of mischief in the rue Bonaparte! You put the
+whole Quarter en charette! I saw you do it."
+
+"I saw _you_," laughed Renoux, "on one notorious occasion, teaching
+jiu-jitsu to a policeman! Don't talk to me about my escapades!"
+
+Cordially, firmly, in grinning silence, they shook hands. And for a
+moment the intervening years seemed to melt away; the golden past
+became the present; and Renoux even thrilled a little at the
+condescension of Barres in shaking hands with him--the _nouveau_
+honoured by the _ancien_!--the reverence never entirely forgotten.
+
+"What are you, anyway, Renoux?" asked Barres, still astonished at the
+encounter, but immensely interested.
+
+"My friend, you have already guessed. I am Captain: Military
+Intelligence Department. You know? There are no longer architects or
+butchers or bakers in France, only soldiers. And of those soldiers I
+am a very humble one."
+
+"On secret duty here," nodded Barres.
+
+"I need not ask an old Beaux Arts comrade to be discreet and loyal."
+
+"My dear fellow, France is next in my heart after my own country. Tell
+me, you are following that Irishman, Soane, and his boche friend, Max
+Freund, are you not?"
+
+"It happens to be as you say," admitted Renoux, smilingly. "A job for
+a 'flic,' is it not?"
+
+"Shall I tell you what I know about those two men?--what I suspect?"
+
+"I should be very glad----" But at that moment Soane came out of the
+saloon across the way, and Freund followed.
+
+"May I come with you?" whispered Barres.
+
+"If you care to. Yes, come," nodded Renoux, keeping his clear,
+intelligent eyes on the two across the street, who now stood under a
+lamp-post, engaged in some sort of drunken altercation.
+
+Renoux, watching them all the while, continued in a low voice:
+
+"Remember, Barres, if we chance to meet again here in America, I am
+merely Georges Renoux, an architect and a fellow Beaux Arts man."
+
+"Certainly.... Look! They're starting on, those two!"
+
+"Come," whispered Renoux.
+
+Soane, unsteady of leg and talkative, was now making for Third Avenue
+beside Freund, who had taken him by the arm, in hopes, apparently, of
+steadying them both.
+
+As Renoux and Barres followed, the latter cautiously requested any
+instructions which Renoux might think fit to give.
+
+Renoux said in his cool, agreeable voice:
+
+"You know it's rather unusual for an officer to bother personally with
+this sort of thing. But my people--even the renegade Germans in our
+service--have been unable to obtain necessary information for us in
+regard to Grogan's.
+
+"It happened this afternoon that certain information was brought to me
+which suggested that I myself take a look at Grogan's. And that is
+what I was going to do when I saw you on the street, carefully
+stalking two well-known suspects."
+
+They both laughed cautiously.
+
+Grogan's was now in sight on the corner, its cherrywood magnificence
+and its bilious imitation of stained glass aglow with electricity. And
+into its "Family Entrance" swaggered Soane, followed by the lank
+figure of Max Freund.
+
+Renoux and Barres had halted fifty yards away. Neither spoke. And
+presently came to them a short, dark, powerfully built man, who
+strolled up casually, puffing a large, rank cigar.
+
+Renoux named him to Barres:
+
+"Emile Souchez, one of my men." He added: "Anybody gone in yet?"
+
+"Otto Klein, of Gerhardt, Klein & Schwartzmeyer went in an hour ago,"
+replied Souchez.
+
+"Oho," nodded Renoux softly. "That signifies something really
+interesting. Who else went in?"
+
+"Small fry--Dave Sendelbeck, Louis Hochstein, Terry Madigan, Dolan,
+McBride, Clancy--all Clan-na-Gael men."
+
+"Skeel?"
+
+"No. He's still at the Astor. Franz Lehr came out about half an hour
+ago and took a taxi west. Jacques Alost is following in another."
+
+Renoux thought a moment:
+
+"Lehr has probably gone to see Skeel at the Hotel Astor," he
+concluded. "We're going to have our chance, I think."
+
+Then, turning to Barres:
+
+"We've decided to take a sport-chance to-night. We have most reliable
+information that this man Lehr, who now owns Grogan's, will carry here
+upon his person papers of importance to my Government--and to yours,
+too, Barres.
+
+"The man from whom he shall procure these papers is an Irish gentleman
+named Murtagh Skeel, just arrived from Buffalo and stopping overnight
+at the Hotel Astor.
+
+"Lehr, we were informed, was to go personally and get those papers....
+Do you really wish to help us?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Very well. I expect we shall have what you call a mix-up. You will
+please, therefore, walk into Grogan's--not by the family entrance, but
+by the swinging doors on Lexington Avenue. Kindly refresh yourself
+there with some Munich beer; also eat a sandwich at my expense, if you
+care to. Then you will give yourself the pains to inquire the way to
+the wash-room. And there you will possess your soul in amiable
+patience until you shall hear me speak your name in a very quiet,
+polite tone."
+
+Barres, recognising the familiar mock seriousness of student days in
+Paris, began to smile. Renoux frowned and continued his instructions:
+
+"When you hear me politely pronounce your name, mon vieux, then you
+shall precipitate yourself valiantly to the aid of Monsieur Souchez
+and myself--and perhaps Monsieur Alost--and help us to hold, gag and
+search the somewhat violent German animal whom we corner inside the
+family entrance of Herr Grogan!"
+
+Barres had difficulty in restraining his laughter. Renoux was very
+serious, with the delightful mock gravity of a witty and perfectly
+fearless Frenchman.
+
+"Lehr?" inquired Barres, still laughing.
+
+"That is the animal under discussion. There will be a taxicab awaiting
+us----" He turned to Souchez: "Dis, donc, Emile, faut employer ton
+coup du Pere Francois pour nous assurer de cet animal la."
+
+"B'en sure," nodded Souchez, fishing furtively in the side pocket of
+his coat and displaying the corner of a red silk handkerchief. He
+stuffed it into his pocket again; Renoux smiled carelessly at Barres.
+
+"Mon vieux," he said, "I hope it will be like a good fight in the
+Quarter--what with all those Irish in there. You desire to get your
+head broken?"
+
+"You bet I do, Renoux!"
+
+"Bien! So now, if you are quite ready?" he suggested. "Merci,
+monsieur, et a bientot!" He bowed profoundly.
+
+Barres, still laughing, walked to Lexington Avenue, crossed northward,
+and entered the swinging doors of Grogan's, perfectly enchanted to
+have his finger in the pie at last, and aching for an old-fashioned
+Latin Quarter row, the pleasures of which he had not known for several
+too respectable years.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+GROGAN'S
+
+
+The material attraction of Grogan's was principally German beer; the
+aesthetic appeal of the place was also characteristically Teutonic and
+consisted of peculiarly offensive decorations, including much red
+cherry, much imitation stained glass, many sprawling brass fixtures,
+and many electric lights. Only former inmates of the Fatherland could
+have conceived and executed the embellishments of Grogan's.
+
+There was a palatial bar, behind which fat, white-jacketed Teutons
+served slopping steins of beer upon a perforated brass surface. There
+was a centre table, piled with those barbarous messes known to the
+undiscriminating Hun as "delicatessen"--raw fish, sour fish, smoked
+fish, flabby portions of defunct pig in various guises--all naturally
+nauseating to the white man's olfactories and palate, and all equally
+relished by the beer-swilling boche.
+
+A bartender with Pekinese and apoplectic eyes and the scorbutic facial
+symptoms of a Strassburg liver, took the order from Barres and set
+before him a frosty glass of Pilsner, incidentally drenching the bar
+at the same time with swipes, which he thriftily scraped through the
+perforated brass strainer into a slop-bucket underneath.
+
+Being a stranger there, Barres was furtively scrutinised at first, but
+there seemed to be nothing particularly suspicious about a young man
+who stopped in for a glass of Pilsner on a July night, and nobody
+paid him any further attention.
+
+Besides, two United States Secret Service men had just gone out,
+followed, as usual, by one Johnny Klein; and the Germans at the tables
+at the bar, and behind the bar were still sneeringly commenting on the
+episode--now a familiar one and of nightly occurrence.
+
+So only very casual attention was paid to Barres and his Pilsner and
+his rye-bread and sardine sandwich, which he took over to a vacant
+table to desiccate and discuss at his leisure.
+
+People came and went; conversation in Hunnish gutturals became
+general; soiled evening newspapers were read, raw fish seized in fat
+red fingers and suckingly masticated; also, skat and pinochle were
+resumed with unwiped hands, and there was loud slapping of cards on
+polished table tops, and many porcine noises.
+
+Barres finished his Pilsner, side-stepped the sandwich, rose, asked a
+bartender for the wash-room, and leisurely followed the direction
+given.
+
+There was nobody in there. He had, for company, a mouse, a soiled
+towel on a roller, and the remains of some unattractive soap. He
+lighted a cigarette, surveyed himself in the looking glass, cast a
+friendly glance at the mouse, and stood waiting, flexing his biceps
+muscles with a smile of anticipated pleasure in renewing the use of
+them after such a very long period wasted in the peaceful pursuit of
+art.
+
+For he was still a boy at heart. All creative minds retain something
+of those care-free, irresponsible years as long as the creative talent
+lasts. As it fails, worldly caution creeps in like a thief in the
+night, to steal the spontaneous pleasures of the past and leave in
+their places only the old galoshes of prudence and the finger-prints
+of dull routine.
+
+Barres stood by the open door of the wash-room, listening. The
+corridor which passed it led on into another corridor running at right
+angles. This was the Family Entrance.
+
+Now, as he waited there, he heard the street door open, and instantly
+the deadened shock of a rush and struggle.
+
+As he started toward the Family Entrance, straining his ears for the
+expected summons, a man in flight turned the corner into his corridor
+so abruptly that he had him by the throat even before he recognised in
+him the man with the thick eye-glasses who had hit him between the
+eyes with a pistol--the "Watcher" of Dragon Court!
+
+With a swift sigh of gratitude to Chance, Barres folded the fleeing
+Watcher to his bosom and began the business he had to transact with
+him--an account too long overdue.
+
+The Watcher fought like a wildcat, but in silence--fought madly, using
+both fists, feet, baring his teeth, too, with frantic attempts to use
+them. But Barres gave him no opportunity to kick, bite, or to pull out
+any weapon; he battered the Watcher right and left, swinging on him
+like lightning, and his blows drummed on him like the tattoo of fists
+on a punching bag until one stinging crack sent the Watcher's head
+snapping back with a jerk, and a terrific jolt knocked him as clean
+and as flat as a dead carp.
+
+There were papers in his coat, also a knuckle-duster, a big
+clasp-knife, and an automatic pistol. And Barres took them all,
+stuffed them into his own pockets, and, dragging his still dormant but
+twitching victim by the collar, as a cat proudly lugs a heavy rat, he
+started for the Family Entrance, where Donnybrook had now broken
+loose.
+
+But the silence of the terrific struggle in that narrow entry, the
+absence of all yelling, was significant. No Irish whoops, no Teutonic
+din of combat shattered the stillness of that dim corridor--only the
+deadened sounds of blows and shuffling of frantic feet. It was very
+evident that nobody involved desired to be interrupted by the police,
+or call attention to the location of the battle field.
+
+Renoux, Souchez, and a third companion were in intimate and desperate
+conflict with half a dozen other men--dim, furious figures fighting
+there under the flickering gas jet from which the dirty globe had been
+knocked into fragments.
+
+Into this dusty maelstrom of waving arms and legs went Barres--first
+dropping his now inert prey--and began to hit out enthusiastically
+right and left, at the nearest hostile countenance visible.
+
+His was a flank attack and totally unexpected by the attackees; and
+the diversion gave Renoux time to seize a muscular, struggling
+opponent, hold him squirming while Souchez passed his handkerchief
+over his throat and the third man turned his pockets inside out.
+
+Then Renoux called breathlessly to Barres:
+
+"All right, mon vieux! Face to the rear front! March!"
+
+For a moment they stiffened to face a battering rush from the stairs.
+Suddenly a pistol spoke, and an Irish voice burst out:
+
+"Whist, ye domm fool! G'wan wid yer fishtin' an' can th' goon-play!"
+
+There came a splintering crash as the rickety banisters gave way and
+several Teutonic and Hibernian warriors fell in a furious heap,
+blocking the entry with an unpremeditated obstacle.
+
+Instantly Souchez, Barres and the other man backed out into the
+street, followed nimbly by Renoux and his plunder.
+
+Already a typical Third Avenue crowd was gathering, though the ominous
+glimmer of a policeman's buttons had not yet caught the lamplight from
+the street corner.
+
+Then the door of Grogan's burst open and an embattled Irishman
+appeared. But at first glance the hopelessness of the situation
+presented itself to him; a taxi loaded with French and American
+franc-tireurs was already honking triumphantly away westward; an
+excited and rapidly increasing throng pressed around the Family
+Entrance; also, the distant glitter of a policeman's shield and
+buttons now extinguished all hope of pursuit.
+
+Soane glared at the crowd out of enraged and blood-shot eyes:
+
+"G'wan home, ye bunch of bums!" he said thickly, and slammed the door
+to the Family Entrance of Grogan's notorious cafe.
+
+At 42d Street and Madison Avenue the taxi stopped and Souchez and
+Alost got out and went rapidly across the street toward the Grand
+Central depot. Then the taxi proceeded west, north again, then once
+more west.
+
+Renoux, busy with a bleeding nose, remarked carelessly that Souchez
+and Alost were taking a train and were in a hurry, and that he himself
+was going back to the Astor.
+
+"You do not mind coming with me, Barres?" he added. "In my rooms we
+can have a bite and a glass together, and then we can brush up. That
+was a nice little fight, was it not, mon ami?"
+
+"Fine," said Barres with satisfaction.
+
+"Quite like the old and happy days," mused Renoux, surveying wilted
+collar and rumpled tie of his comrade. "You came off well; you have
+merely a bruised cheek." His eyes began to sparkle and he laughed: "Do
+you remember that May evening when your very quarrelsome atelier
+barricaded the Cafe de la Source and forbade us to enter--and my
+atelier marched down the Boul' Mich' with its Kazoo band playing our
+atelier march, determined to take your cafe by assault? Oh, my! What a
+delightful fight that was!"
+
+"Your crazy comrades stuffed me into the fountain among the goldfish.
+I thought I'd drown," said Barres, laughing.
+
+"I know, but your atelier gained a great victory that night, and you
+came over to Mueller's with your Kazoo band playing the Fireman's
+March, and you carried away our palms and bay-trees in their green
+tubs, and you threw them over the Pont-au-Change into the Seine!----"
+
+They were laughing like a pair of schoolboys now, quite convulsed and
+holding to each other.
+
+"Do you remember," gasped Barres, "that girl who danced the Carmagnole
+on the Quay?"
+
+"Yvonne Tete-de-Linotte!"
+
+"And the British giant from Julien's, who threw everybody out of the
+Cafe Montparnasse and invited the Quarter in to a free banquet?"
+
+"McNeil!"
+
+"What ever became of that pretty girl, Doucette de Valmy?"
+
+"Oh, it was she who cheered on your atelier to the assault on
+Muellers!----"
+
+Laughter stifled them.
+
+"What crazy creatures we all were," said Renoux, staunching the last
+crimson drops oozing from his nose. Then, more soberly: "We French
+have a grimmer affair over there than the joyous rows of the Latin
+Quarter. I'm sorry now that we didn't throw every waiter in Mueller's
+after the bay-trees. There would have been so many fewer spies to
+betray France."
+
+The taxi stopped at the 44th Street entrance to the Astor. They
+descended, Renoux leading, walked through the corridor to Peacock
+Alley, turned to the right through the bar, then to the left into the
+lobby, and thence to the elevator.
+
+In Renoux's rooms they turned on the electric light, locked the door,
+closed the transom, then spread their plunder out on a table.
+
+To Renoux's disgust his own loot consisted of sealed envelopes full of
+clippings from German newspapers published in Chicago, Milwaukee, and
+New York.
+
+"That animal, Lehr," he said with a wry face, "has certainly played us
+a filthy turn. These clippings amount to nothing----" His eyes fell on
+the packet of papers which Barres was now opening, and he leaned over
+his shoulder to look.
+
+"Thank God!" he said, "here they are! Where on earth did you find
+these papers, Barres? They're the documents we were after! They ought
+to have been in Lehr's pockets!"
+
+"He must have passed them to the fellow who bumped into me near the
+wash-room," said Barres, enchanted at his luck. "What a fortunate
+chance that you sent me around there!"
+
+Renoux, delighted, stood under the electric light unfolding document
+after document, and nodding his handsome, mischievous head with
+satisfaction.
+
+"What luck, Barres! What did you do to the fellow?"
+
+"Thumped him to sleep and turned out his pockets. Are these really
+what you want?"
+
+"I should say so! This is precisely what we are looking for!"
+
+"Do you mind if I read them, too?"
+
+"No, I don't. Why should I? You're my loyal comrade and you understand
+discretion.... _What_ do you think of _this_!" displaying a
+typewritten document marked "Copy," enclosing a sheaf of maps.
+
+It contained plans of all the East River and Harlem bridges, a tracing
+showing the course of the new aqueduct and the Ashokan Dam, drawings
+of the Navy Yard, a map of Iona Island, and a plan of the Welland
+Canal.
+
+The document was brief:
+
+  "Included in report by _K17_ to Diplomatic Agent controlling
+  Section 7-4-11-B. Recommended that detail plan of DuPont works be
+  made without delay.
+
+  "SKEEL."
+
+Followed several sheets in cipher, evidently some intricate variation
+of those which are always ultimately solved by experts.
+
+But the documents that were now unfolded by Captain Renoux proved
+readable and intensely interesting.
+
+These were the papers which Renoux read and which Barres read over his
+shoulder:
+
+  "(Copy)
+
+  Berlin Military Telegraph Office Telegram
+
+  Berlin. Political Division of the General Staff
+  Nr. Pol. 6431.
+
+  (SECRET)
+
+  8, Moltkestrasse,
+    Berlin, NW, 40.
+      March 20, 1916.
+
+  "FEREZ BEY, N. Y.
+
+  "Referring to your correspondence and conversations with Colonel
+  Skeel, I most urgently request that the necessary funds be raised
+  through the New York banker, Adolf Gerhardt; also that Bernstorff
+  be immediately informed through Boy-Ed, so that plans of Head
+  General Staff of Army on campaign may not be delayed.
+
+  "Begin instantly enlist and train men, secure and arm power-boat
+  assemble equipment and explosives, Welland Canal Exp'd'n. War
+  Office No. 159-16, Secret U. K.:--T, 3, P."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "Foreign Office, Berlin,
+
+  "Dec. 28, 1914.
+
+  "DEAR SIR ROGER:--I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of your
+  letter of the 23d inst., in which you submitted to his Imperial
+  Majesty's Government a proposal for the formation of an Irish
+  brigade which would be pledged to fight only for the cause of
+  Irish nationalism, and which is to be composed of any Irish
+  prisoners of war willing to join such a regiment.
+
+  "In reply I have the honour to inform you that his Imperial
+  Majesty's Government agrees to your proposal and also to the
+  conditions under which it might be possible to train an Irish
+  brigade. These conditions are set out in the declaration enclosed
+  in your letter of the 13th inst., and are given at foot. I have
+  the honour to be, dear Roger, your obedient servant,
+
+  "(Signed) ZIMMERMAN,
+
+  "Under Secretary of State for the Foreign Office.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "TO HIS HONOUR, SIR ROGER CASEMENT,
+    "Eden Hotel, Kurfuerstendamm, Berlin."
+
+  "(SECRET)
+
+  "COLONEL MURTAGH SKEEL,
+    "Flying Division, Irish Expeditionary Corps,
+      "New York.
+
+  "For your information I enclose Zimmerman's letter to Sir Roger,
+  and also the text of Articles 6 and 7, being part of our first
+  agreement with Sir Roger Casement.
+
+  "You will note particularly the Article numbered 7.
+
+  "This paragraph, unfortunately, still postpones your suggested
+  attempt to seize on the high seas a British or neutral steamer
+  loaded with arms and munitions, and make a landing from her on the
+  Irish Coast.
+
+  "But, in the meantime, is it not possible for you to seize one of
+  the large ore steamers on the Great Lakes, transfer to her
+  sufficient explosives, take her into the Welland Canal and blow up
+  the locks?
+
+  "No more valuable service could be performed by Irishmen; no
+  deadlier blow delivered at England.
+
+  "I am, my dear Skeel, your sincere friend and comrade,
+
+  "(Signed) VON PAPEN.
+
+  "P. S.--Herewith appended are Articles 6 and 7 included in the
+  Casement convention:
+
+  "(SECRET)
+
+  "Text of Articles 6 and 7 of the convention concluded between Sir
+  Roger Casement and the German Government:
+
+  "6. The German Imperial Government undertakes 'under certain
+  circumstances' to lend the Irish Brigade adequate military
+  support, and to send it to Ireland abundantly supplied with arms
+  and ammunition, in order that once there it may equip any Irish
+  who would like to join it in making an attempt to re-establish
+  Ireland's national liberty by force of arms.
+
+  "The 'special circumstances' stipulated above are as follows:
+
+  "In case of a German naval victory which would make it possible to
+  reach the Irish coast, the German Imperial Government pledges
+  itself to despatch the Irish Brigade and a German expeditionary
+  corps commanded by German officers, in German troopships, to
+  attempt a landing on the Irish coast.
+
+  "7. It will be impossible to contemplate a landing in Ireland
+  unless the German Navy can gain such a victory as to make it
+  really likely that an attempt to reach Ireland by sea would
+  succeed. Should the German Navy not win such a victory, then a use
+  will be found for the Irish Brigade in Germany or elsewhere. But
+  in no case will it be used except in such ways as Sir Roger
+  Casement shall approve, as being completely in accordance with
+  Article 2.
+
+  "In this case the Irish Brigade might be sent to Egypt to lend
+  assistance in expelling the English and re-establishing Egyptian
+  independence.
+
+  "Even if the Irish Brigade should not succeed in fighting for the
+  liberation of Ireland from the English yoke, nevertheless a blow
+  dealt at the British intruders in Egypt and intended to help the
+  Egyptians to recover their freedom would be a blow struck for a
+  cause closely related to that of Ireland."
+
+Another paper read as follows:
+
+  "Halbmondlager,
+    "Aug. 20th, 1915.
+
+  "(SECRET)"
+
+  "To MURTAGH SKEEL, COLONEL,
+    "Irish Exp. Force,
+      "N. Y.
+
+  "REPORT
+
+  "On June 7, fifty Irishmen, with one German subaltern, were handed
+  over to this camp, to be temporarily accommodated here. On June 16
+  five more Irishmen arrived, one of whom, having a broken leg, was
+  sent to the camp hospital. There are, therefore, fifty-four
+  Irishmen now here, one Sergeant Major, one Deputy Sergeant Major,
+  three Sergeants, three Corporals, three Lance Corporals, and
+  forty-three privates.
+
+  "They were accommodated as well as could be among the Indian
+  battalion, an arrangement which gives rise to much trouble, which
+  is inevitable, considering the tasks imposed upon Half Moon Camp.
+
+  "The Irish form an Irish brigade, which was constituted after
+  negotiations between the Foreign Office and Sir Roger Casement,
+  the champion of Irish independence.
+
+  "Enclosed is the Foreign Office communication of Dec. 28, 1914,
+  confirming the conditions on which the Irish brigade was to be
+  formed.
+
+  "The members of the Irish brigade are no longer German prisoners
+  of war, but receive an Irish uniform; and, according to orders,
+  instructions are to be issued to treat the Irish as comrades in
+  arms.
+
+  "The Irish are under the command of a German officer, First Lieut.
+  Boehm, the representative of the Grand General Staff (Political
+  Division) which is in direct communication with the subaltern in
+  charge of the Irish. This subaltern has been receiving money
+  direct, which he expends in the interests of the Irish; 250 marks
+  were given him through the Commandant's office, Zossen, and 250
+  marks by First Lieut. Boehm.
+
+  "Promotions, also, are made known by being directly communicated
+  to the subaltern in question. As will appear from the enclosed
+  copy, dated July 20, these promotions were as follows: (1)
+  Sergeant Major, (2) Deputy Sergeant Major, and (3) Sergeants.
+
+  "The uniforms arrived between the end of July and the beginning of
+  August. Their coming was announced in a letter dated July 20 (copy
+  enclosed), and their distribution was ordered. The box of uniforms
+  was addressed to Zossen, whence it was brought here. The uniforms
+  consist of a jacket, trousers, and cap in Irish style, and are of
+  huntsman's green cloth. Altogether, uniforms arrived for fifty
+  men, and they have since been given out. Three non-commissioned
+  officers brought their uniforms with them from Limburg on July 16.
+  Two photographs of the Irish are annexed.
+
+  "A few Irish are in correspondence with Sir Roger Casement, who,
+  in a letter from Munich, dated Aug. 16, says that he hears that
+  the Irish are shortly to be transferred from here to another
+  place. In a letter dated July 17 he complains of his want of
+  success, only fifty men having sent in their names as wishing to
+  join the brigade.
+
+  "Six weeks ago Sir Roger Casement was here with First Lieutenant
+  Boehm. Since then, however, neither of these gentlemen has
+  personally visited the Irish.
+
+  "Since the 18th of June the commandant's office has allowed every
+  penniless Irishman two marks a week--a sum which is now being paid
+  out to fifty-three men.
+
+  "On Aug. 6 the subaltern in charge of the Irish brigade was given
+  a German soldier to help him.
+
+  "In this camp every possible endeavour is made to help to attain
+  the important objects in view, but owing to the Irish being
+  accommodated with coloured races within the precincts of a closed
+  camp, it is inevitable that serious dissensions and acts of
+  violence should take place. Moreover, a German subaltern is not
+  suited for dealing independently with Irishmen.
+
+  "(Sgd.) HAUPTMANN, d. R. a. D.,
+
+  "(Retired Captain on the Reserve List)."
+
+The last paper read as follows:
+
+  "(COPY)
+
+  "(Wireless via Mexico)
+
+  "Berlin (no date).
+
+  "FEREZ,
+    "N. Y.
+
+  "Necessary close Nihla Quellen case immediately. Evidently useless
+  expect her take service with us. Hold you responsible. Advise you
+  take secret measures to end menace to our interests in Paris.
+  D'Eblis urges instant action. Bolo under suspicion. Ex-minister
+  also suspected. Only drastic and final action on your part can end
+  danger. You know what to do. Do it."
+
+  The telegram was signed with a string of letters and numerals.
+
+Renoux glanced curiously at Barres, who had turned very red and was
+beginning to re-read the wireless.
+
+When he finished, Renoux folded all the documents and placed them in
+the breast pocket of his coat.
+
+"Mon ami, Barres," he said pleasantly, "you and I have much yet to say
+to each other."
+
+"In the meanwhile, let us wash the stains of combat from our persons.
+What is the number of your collar?"
+
+"Fifteen and a half."
+
+"I can fit you out. The bathroom is this way, old top!"
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+THE WHITE BLACKBIRD
+
+
+Refreshed by icy baths and clean linen, and now further fortified
+against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune by a supper of
+cold fowl and Moselle, Captain Renoux and Garret Barres sat in the
+apartment of the former gentleman, gaily exchanging Latin Quarter
+reminiscences through the floating haze of their cigars.
+
+But the conversation soon switched back toward the far more serious
+business which alone accounted for their being there together after
+many years. For, as the French officer had remarked, a good deal
+remained to be said between them. And Barres knew what he meant, and
+was deeply concerned at the prospect.
+
+But Renoux approached the matter with careless good humour and by a
+leisurely, circuitous route, which polite pussy-footing was obviously
+to prepare Barres for impending trouble.
+
+He began by referring to his mission in America, admitting very
+frankly that he was a modest link in the system of military and
+political intelligence maintained by all European countries in the
+domains of their neighbours.
+
+"I might as well say so," he remarked, "because it's known to the
+representatives of enemy governments here as well as to your own
+Government, that some of us are here; and anybody can imagine why.
+
+"And, in the course of my--studies," he said deliberately, while his
+clear eyes twinkled, "it has come to my knowledge, and to the
+knowledge of the French Ambassador, that there is, in New York, a
+young woman who already has proven herself a dangerous enemy to my
+country."
+
+"That is interesting, if true," said Barres, reddening to the temples.
+"But it is even more interesting if it is not true.... And it isn't!"
+
+"You think not?"
+
+"I don't think anything about it, Renoux; I _know_."
+
+"I am afraid you have been misled, Barres. And it is natural enough."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because," said Renoux serenely, "she is very beautiful, very clever,
+very young, very appealing.... Tell me, my friend, where did you meet
+her?"
+
+Barres looked him in the eyes:
+
+"Where did you learn that I had ever met her?"
+
+"Through the ordinary channels which, if you will pardon me, I am not
+at liberty to discuss."
+
+"All right. It is sufficient that you know I have met her. Now, where
+did I meet her?"
+
+"I don't know," said Renoux candidly.
+
+"How long have I known her then?"
+
+"Possibly a few weeks. Our information is that your acquaintance with
+her is not of long duration."
+
+"Wrong, my friend: I met her in France several years ago; I know her
+intimately."
+
+"Yes, the intimacy has been reported," said Renoux, blandly. "But it
+doesn't take long, sometimes."
+
+Barres reddened again and shook his head:
+
+"You and your agents are all wrong, Renoux. So is your Government. Do
+you know what it's doing--what you and your agents are doing? You're
+playing a German game for Berlin!"
+
+This time Renoux flushed and there was a slight quiver to his lips and
+nostrils; but he said very pleasantly:
+
+"That would be rather mortifying, mon ami, if it were true."
+
+"It is true. Berlin, the traitor in Paris, the conspirator in America,
+the German, Austrian, and Turkish diplomatic agents here ask nothing
+better than that you manage, somehow, to eliminate the person in
+question."
+
+"Why?" demanded Renoux.
+
+"Because more than one of your public men in Paris will face charges
+of conspiracy and treason if the person in question ever has a fair
+hearing and a chance to prove her innocence of the terrible
+accusations that have been made against her."
+
+"Naturally," said Renoux, "those accused bring counter charges. It is
+always the history of such cases, mon ami."
+
+"Your mind is already made up, then?"
+
+"My mind is a real mind, Barres. Reason is what it seeks--the logical
+evidence that leads to truth. If there is anything I don't know, then
+I wish to know it, and will spare no pains, permit no prejudice to
+warp my judgment."
+
+"All right. Now, let's have the thing out between us, Renoux. We are
+not fencing in the dark; we understand each other and are honest
+enough to say so. Now, go on."
+
+Renoux nodded and said very quietly and pleasantly:
+
+"The reference in one of these papers to the celebrated Nihla Quellen
+reminds me of the first time I ever saw her. I was quite bowled over,
+Barres, as you may easily imagine. She sang one of those Asiatic
+songs--and then the dance!--a miracle!--a delight--apparently entirely
+unprepared, unpremeditated even--you know how she did it?--exquisite
+perfection--something charmingly impulsive and spontaneous--a caprice
+of the moment! Ah--there is a wonderful artiste, Nihla Quellen!"
+
+Barres nodded, his level gaze fixed on the French officer.
+
+"As for the document," continued Renoux, "it does not entirely explain
+itself to me. You see, this Eurasian, Ferez Bey, was a very intimate
+friend of Nihla Quellen."
+
+"You are quite mistaken," interposed Barres. But the other merely
+smiled with a slight gesture of deference to his friend's opinion, and
+went on.
+
+"This Ferez is one of those persistent, annoying flies which buzz
+around chancelleries and stir up diplomats to pernicious activities.
+You know there isn't much use in swatting, as you say, the fly. No.
+Better find the manure heap which hatched him and burn that!"
+
+He smiled and shrugged, relighted his cigar, and continued:
+
+"So, mon ami, I am here in your charming and hospitable city to direct
+the necessary sanitary measures, sub rosa, of course. You have been
+more than kind. My Government and I have you to thank for this batch
+of papers----" He tapped his breast pocket and made salutes which
+Frenchmen alone know how to make.
+
+"Renoux," said Barres bluntly, "you have learned somehow that Nihla
+Quellen is under my protection. You conclude I am her lover."
+
+The officer's face altered gravely, but he said nothing.
+
+Barres leaned forward in his chair and laid a hand on his comrade's
+shoulder:
+
+"Renoux, do you trust me, personally?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Very well. Then I shall trust you. Because there is nothing you can
+tell me about Nihla Quellen that I do not already know--nothing
+concerning her _dossier_ in your secret archives, nothing in regard to
+the evidence against her and the testimony of the Count d'Eblis. And
+that clears the ground between you and me."
+
+If Renoux was surprised he scarcely showed it.
+
+Barres said:
+
+"As long as you know that she is under my protection, I want you to
+come to my place and talk to her. I don't ask you to accept my
+judgment in regard to her; I merely wish you to listen to what she has
+to say, and then come to your own conclusions. Will you do this?"
+
+For a few moments Renoux sat quite still, his clear, intelligent eyes
+fixed on the smoking tip of his cigar. Without raising them he said
+slowly:
+
+"As we understand it, Nihla Quellen has been a spy from the very
+beginning. Our information is clear, concise, logical. We know her
+history. She was the mistress of Prince Cyril, then of Ferez, then of
+d'Eblis--perhaps of the American banker, Gerhardt, also. She came
+directly from the German Embassy at Constantinople to Paris, on
+Gerhardt's yacht, the _Mirage_, and under his protection and the
+protection of Comte Alexandre d'Eblis.
+
+"Ferez was of the party. And that companionship of conspirators never
+was dissolved as long as Nihla Quellen remained in Europe."
+
+"That Nihla Quellen has ever been the mistress of any man is
+singularly untrue," said Barres coolly. "Your Government has to do
+with a chaste woman; and it doesn't even know that much!"
+
+Renoux regarded him curiously:
+
+"You have seen her dance?" he enquired gravely.
+
+"Often. And, Renoux, you are too much a man of the world to be
+surprised at the unexpected. There _are_ white blackbirds."
+
+"Yes, there are."
+
+"Nihla Quellen is one."
+
+"My friend, I desire to believe it if it would be agreeable to you."
+
+"I know, Renoux; I believe in your good-will. Also, I believe in your
+honesty and intelligence. And so I do not ask you to accept my word
+for what I tell you. Only remember that I am absolutely certain
+concerning my belief in Nihla Quellen.... I have no doubt that you
+think I am in love with her.... I can't answer you. All Europe was in
+love with her. Perhaps I am.... I don't know, Renoux. But this I do
+know; she is clean and sweet and honest from the crown of her head to
+the sole of her foot. In her heart there has never dwelt treachery.
+Talk to her to-night. You're like the best of your compatriots, clear
+minded, logical, intelligent, and full of that legitimate imagination
+without which intellect is a machine. You know the world; you know
+men; you don't know women and you know you don't. Therefore, you are
+equipped to learn the truth--to divine it--from Nihla Quellen. Will
+you come over to my place now?"
+
+"Yes," said Renoux pleasantly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The orchestra was playing as they passed through the hotel; supper
+rooms, corridors, cafe and lobby were crowded with post-theatre
+throngs in search of food and drink and dance music; and although few
+theatres were open in July, Long Acre blazed under its myriad lights
+and the sidewalks were packed with the audiences filtering out of the
+various summer shows and into all-night cabarets.
+
+They looked across at the distant war bulletins displayed on Times
+Square, around which the usual gesticulating crowd had gathered, but
+kept on across Long Acre, and west toward Sixth Avenue.
+
+Midway in the block, Renoux touched his comrade silently on the arm,
+and halted.
+
+"A few minutes, mon ami, if you don't mind--time for you to smoke a
+cigarette while waiting."
+
+They had stopped before a brownstone house which had been converted
+into a basement dwelling, and which was now recessed between two
+modern shops constructed as far as the building line.
+
+All the shades and curtains in the house were drawn and the place
+appeared to be quite dark, but a ring at the bell brought a big,
+powerfully built porter, who admitted them to a brightly lighted
+reception room. Then the porter replaced the chains on the door of
+bronze.
+
+"Just a little while, if you will be amiable enough to have patience,"
+said Renoux.
+
+He went away toward the rear of the house and Barres seated himself.
+And in a few moments the burly porter reappeared with a tray
+containing a box of cigarettes and a tall glass of Moselle.
+
+"Monsieur Renoux will not be long," he said, bringing a sheaf of
+French illustrated periodicals to the little table at Barres' elbow;
+and he retired with a bow and resumed his chair in the corridor by the
+bronze door.
+
+Through closed doors, somewhere from the rear of the silent house
+came the distant click of a typewriter. At moments, too, looking over
+the war pictures in the periodicals, Barres imagined that he heard a
+confused murmur as of many voices.
+
+Later it became evident that there were a number of people somewhere
+in the house, because, now and then, the porter unlatched the door and
+drew the chains to let out some swiftly walking man.
+
+Once two men came out together. One carried a satchel; the other
+halted in the hallway to slip a clip into an automatic pistol before
+dropping it into the side pocket of his coat.
+
+And after a while Renoux appeared, bland, debonaire, evidently much
+pleased with whatever he had been doing.
+
+Two other men appeared in the corridor behind him; he said something
+to them in a low voice; Barres imagined he heard the words,
+"Washington" and "Jusserand."
+
+Then the two men went out, walking at a smart pace, and Renoux
+sauntered into the tiny reception room.
+
+"You don't know," he said, "what a very important service you have
+rendered us by catching that fellow to-night and stripping him of his
+papers."
+
+Barres rose and they walked out together.
+
+"This city," added Renoux, "is fairly verminous with disloyal Huns.
+The streets are crawling with them; every German resort, saloon, beer
+garden, keller, cafe, club, society--every German drug store,
+delicatessen shop, music store, tobacconist, is lousy with the
+treacherous swine.
+
+"There are two great hotels where the boche gathers and plots; two
+great banking firms are centres of German propaganda; three great
+department stores, dozens of downtown commercial agencies; various
+buildings and piers belonging to certain transatlantic steamship
+lines, the offices of certain newspapers and periodicals.... Tell me,
+Barres, did you know that the banker, Gerhardt, owns the building in
+which you live?"
+
+"Dragon Court!"
+
+"You didn't know it, evidently. Yes, he owns it."
+
+"Is he really involved in pro-German intrigue?" asked Barres.
+
+"That is our information."
+
+"I ask," continued Barres thoughtfully, "because his summer home is at
+Northbrook, not far from my own home. And to me there is something
+peculiarly contemptible about disloyalty in the wealthy who owe every
+penny to the country they betray."
+
+"His place is called Hohenlinden," remarked Renoux.
+
+"Yes. Are you having it watched?"
+
+Renoux smiled. Perhaps he was thinking about other places, also--the
+German Embassy, for example, where, inside the Embassy itself, not
+only France but also the United States Government was represented by a
+secret agent among the personnel.
+
+"We try to learn what goes on among the boches," he said carelessly.
+"They try the same game. But, Barres, they are singularly stupid at
+such things--not adroit, merely clumsy and brutal. The Hun cannot
+camouflage his native ferocity. He reveals himself.
+
+"And in that respect it is fortunate for civilisation that it is
+dealing with barbarians. Their cunning is of the swinish sort. Their
+stench ultimately discovers them. You are discovering it for
+yourselves; you detected Dernberg; you already sniff Von Papen,
+Boy-ed, Bernstorff. All over the world the nauseous effluvia from the
+vast Teutonic hog-pen is being detected and recognised. And
+civilisation is taking sanitary measures to abate the nuisance.... And
+your country, too, will one day send out a sanitary brigade to help
+clean up the world, just as you now supply our details with the
+necessary chlorides and antiseptics."
+
+Barres laughed:
+
+"You are very picturesque," he said. "And I'll tell you one thing, if
+we don't join the sanitary corps now operating, I shall go out with a
+bottle of chloride myself."
+
+They entered Dragon Court a few moments later. Nobody was at the desk,
+it being late.
+
+"To-morrow," said Barres, as they ascended the stairs, "my friends,
+Miss Soane, Miss Dunois, and Mr. Westmore are to be our guests
+at Foreland Farms. You didn't know that, did you?" he added
+sarcastically.
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Renoux, much amused. "Miss Dunois, as you call her,
+sent her trunks away this evening."
+
+Barres, surprised and annoyed, halted on the landing:
+
+"Your people didn't interfere, I hope."
+
+"No. There was nothing in them of interest to us," said Renoux
+naively. "I sent a report when I sent on to Washington the papers
+which you secured for us."
+
+Barres paused before his studio door, key in hand. They could hear the
+gramophone going inside. He said:
+
+"I don't have to ask you to be fair, Renoux, because the man who is
+unfair to others swindles himself, and you are too decent, too
+intelligent to do that. I am going to present you to Thessalie Dunois,
+which happens to be her real name, and I am going to tell her in your
+presence who you are. Then I shall leave you alone with her."
+
+He fitted his latchkey and opened the door.
+
+Westmore was trying fancy dancing with Dulcie on one side, and
+Thessalie on the other--the latter evidently directing operations.
+
+"Garry!" exclaimed Thessalie.
+
+"You're a fine one! Where have you been?" began Westmore. Then he
+caught sight of Renoux and became silent.
+
+Barres led his comrade forward and presented him:
+
+"A fellow student of the Beaux Arts," he explained, "and we've had a
+very jolly evening together. And, Thessa, there is something in
+particular that I should like to have you explain to Monsieur Renoux,
+if you don't mind...." He turned and looked at Dulcie: "If you will
+pardon us a moment, Sweetness."
+
+She nodded and smiled and took Westmore's arm again, and continued the
+dance alone with him while Barres, drawing Thessalie's arm through
+his, and passing his other arm through Renoux's, walked leisurely
+through his studio, through the now open folding doors, past his
+bedroom and Westmore's, and into the latter's studio beyond.
+
+"Thessa, dear," he said very quietly, "I feel very certain that
+the worst of your troubles are about to end----" He felt her
+start slightly. "And," he continued, "I have brought my comrade,
+Renoux, here to-night so that you and he can clear up a terrible
+misunderstanding.
+
+"And Monsieur Renoux, once a student of architecture at the Beaux
+Arts, is now Captain Renoux of the Intelligence Department in the
+French Army----"
+
+Thessalie lost her colour and a tremor passed through the arm which
+lay within his.
+
+But he said calmly:
+
+"It is the only way as well as the best way, Thessa. I know you are
+absolutely innocent. I am confident that Captain Renoux is going to
+believe it, too. If he does not, you are no worse off. Because it has
+already become known to the French Government that you are here.
+Renoux knew it."
+
+They had halted; Barres led Thessalie to a seat. Renoux, straight,
+deferential, correct, awaited her pleasure.
+
+She looked up at him; his keen, intelligent eyes met hers.
+
+"If you please, Captain Renoux, will you do me the honour to be
+seated?" she said in a low voice.
+
+Barres went to her, bent over her hand, touched it with his lips.
+
+"Just tell him the truth, Thessa, dear," he said.
+
+"Everything?" she smiled faintly, "including our first meeting?"
+
+Barres flushed, then laughed:
+
+"Yes, tell him about that, too. It was too charming for him not to
+appreciate."
+
+And with a half mischievous, half amused nod to Renoux he went back to
+find the dancers, whom he could hear laughing far away in his own
+studio.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was nearly one o'clock when Dulcie, who had been sleeping with
+Thessalie, whispered to Barres that she was ready to retire.
+
+"Indeed, you had better," he said, releasing her as the dance music
+ran down and ceased. "If you don't get some sleep you won't feel like
+travelling to-morrow."
+
+"Will you explain to Thessa?"
+
+"Of course. Good-night, dear."
+
+She gave him her hand in silence, turned and offered it to Westmore,
+then went away toward her room.
+
+Westmore, who had been fidgeting a lot since Thessalie had retired for
+a tete-a-tete with a perfectly unknown and alarmingly good-looking
+young man whom he never before had laid eyes on, finally turned short
+in his restless pacing of the studio.
+
+"What the deuce can be keeping Thessa?" he demanded. "And who the
+devil is that black-eyed young sprig of France you brought home with
+you?"
+
+"Sit down and I'll tell you," said Barres crisply, instinctively
+resenting his friend's uncalled for solicitude in Thessalie's behalf.
+
+So Westmore seated himself and Barres told him all about the evening's
+adventures. And he was still lingering unctuously over the details of
+the battle at Grogan's, the recital of which, Westmore demanding, he
+had begun again, when at the farther end of the studio Thessalie
+appeared, coming toward them.
+
+Renoux was beside her, very deferential and graceful in his
+attendance, and with that niceness of attitude which confesses respect
+in every movement.
+
+Thessalie came forward; Barres advanced to meet her with the unspoken
+question in his eyes, and she gave him both her hands with a tremulous
+little smile of happiness.
+
+"Is it all right?" he whispered.
+
+"I think so."
+
+Barres turned and grasped Renoux by one hand.
+
+The latter said:
+
+"There is not the slightest doubt in my mind, mon ami. You were
+perfectly right. A frightful injustice has been done in this matter.
+Of that I am absolutely convinced."
+
+"You will do what you can to set things right?"
+
+"Of course," said Renoux simply.
+
+There was a moment's silence, then Renoux smiled:
+
+"You know," he said lightly, "we French have a horror of any more
+mistakes like the Dreyfus case. We are terribly sensitive. Be assured
+that my Government will take up this affair instantly upon receiving
+my report."
+
+He turned to Barres:
+
+"Would you, perhaps, offer me a day's hospitality at your home in the
+country, if I should request it by telegram sometime this week or
+next?"
+
+"You bet," replied Barres cordially.
+
+Then Renoux made his adieux, as only such a Frenchman can make them,
+saying exactly the right thing to each, in exactly the right manner.
+
+When he was gone, Barres took Thessalie's hands and pressed them:
+
+"Pretty merle-blanc, your little friend Dulcie is already asleep. Tell
+us to-morrow how you convinced him that you are what you are--the
+dearest, sweetest girl in the world!"
+
+She laughed demurely, then glanced apprehensively, sideways, at
+Westmore.
+
+And the mute but infuriated expression on that young man's countenance
+seemed to cause her the loss of all self-possession, for she cast one
+more look at him and fled with a hasty "good-night!"
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+FORELAND FARMS
+
+
+Toward three o'clock on the following afternoon the sun opened up like
+a searchlight through the veil of rain, dissolving it to a golden haze
+which gradually grew thinner and thinner, revealing glimpses of
+rolling country against a horizon of low mountains.
+
+About the same time the covered station wagon turned in between the
+white gates of Foreland Farms, proceeded at a smart trot up the drive,
+and stopped under a dripping porte-cochere, where a smiling servant
+stood waiting to lift out the luggage.
+
+A trim looking man of forty odd, in soft shirt and fawn coloured
+knickers, and wearing a monocle in his right eye and a flower in his
+buttonhole, came out on the porch as Barres and his guests descended.
+
+"Well, Garry," he said, "I'm glad you're home at last! But you're
+rather late for the fishing." And to Westmore:
+
+"How are you, Jim? Jolly to have you back! But I regret to inform you
+that the fishing is very poor just now."
+
+His son, who stood an inch or two taller than his debonaire parent,
+passed one arm around his shoulders and patted them affectionately
+while the easy presentations were concluded.
+
+At the same moment two women, beautifully mounted and very wet,
+galloped up to the porch and welcomed Garry's guests from their
+saddles in the pleasant, informal, incurious manner characteristic of
+Foreland Farm folk--a manner which seemed too amiably certain of
+itself to feel responsibility for anybody or anything else.
+
+Easy, unconcerned, slender and clean-built women these--Mrs. Reginald
+Barres, Garry's mother, and her daughter, Lee. And in their smart,
+rain-wet riding clothes they might easily have been sisters, with a
+few years' difference between them, so agreeably had Time behaved
+toward Mrs. Barres, so closely her fair-haired, fair-skinned daughter
+resembled her.
+
+They swung carelessly out of their saddles and set spurred foot to
+turf, and, with Garret and his guests, sauntered into the big living
+hall, where a maid waited with wine and biscuits and the housekeeper
+lingered to conduct Thessalie and Dulcie to their rooms.
+
+Dulcie Soane, in her pretty travelling gown, walked beside Mrs.
+Reginald Barres into the first great house she had ever entered.
+Composed, but shyly enchanted, an odd but delightful sensation
+possessed her that she was where she belonged--that such environment,
+such people should always have been familiar to her--were logical and
+familiar to her now.
+
+Mrs. Barres was saying:
+
+"And if you like parties, there is always gaiety at Northbrook. But
+you don't have to go anywhere or do anything you don't wish to."
+
+Dulcie said, diffidently, that she liked everything, and Mrs. Barres
+laughed.
+
+"Then you'll be very popular," she said, tossing her riding crop onto
+the table and stripping off her wet gloves.
+
+Barres senior was already in serious confab with Westmore concerning
+piscatorial conditions, the natural low water of midsummer, the
+capricious conduct of the trout in the streams and in the upper and
+lower lakes.
+
+"They won't look at anything until sunset," he explained, "and then
+they don't mean business. You'll see, Jim. I'm sorry; you should have
+come in June."
+
+Lee, Garret's boyishly slim sister, had already begun to exchange
+opinions about horses with Thessalie, for both had been familiar with
+the saddle since childhood, though the latter's Cossack horsemanship
+and mastery of the haute ecole, incident to her recent and irregular
+profession, might have astonished Lee Barres.
+
+Mrs. Barres was saying to Dulcie:
+
+"We don't try to entertain one another here, but everybody seems to
+have a perfectly good time. The main thing is that we all feel quite
+free at Foreland. You'll lose yourself indoors at first. The family
+for a hundred years has been adding these absurd two-story wings, so
+that the house wanders at random over the landscape, and you may have
+to inquire your way about in the beginning."
+
+She smiled again at Dulcie and took her hand in both of hers:
+
+"I'm sure you will like the Farms," she said, linking her other arm
+through her son's. "I'm rather wet, Garry," she added, "but I think
+Lee and I had better dry out in the saddle." And to Dulcie again: "Tea
+at five, if anybody wishes it. Would you like to see your room?"
+
+Thessalie, conversing with Lee, turned smilingly to be included in the
+suggestion; and the maid came forward to conduct her and Dulcie
+through the intricacies of the big, casual, sprawling house, where
+rooms and corridors and halls rambled unexpectedly and irrelevantly
+in every direction, and one vista seemed to terminate in another.
+
+When they had disappeared, the Barres family turned to inspect its son
+and heir with habitual and humorous insouciance, commenting frankly
+upon his personal appearance and concluding that his health still
+remained all that could be desired by the most solicitous of parents
+and sisters.
+
+"There are rods already rigged up in the work-room," remarked his
+father, "if you and your guests care to try a dry-fly this evening. As
+for me, you'll find me somewhere around the upper lake, if you care to
+look for me----"
+
+He fished out of his pocket a bewildering tangle of fine mist-leaders,
+and, leisurely disentangling them, strolled toward the porch, still
+talking:
+
+"There's only one fly they deign to notice, now--a dust-coloured midge
+tied in reverse with no hackle, no tinsel, a May-fly tail, and barred
+canary wing----" He nodded wisely over his shoulder at his son and
+Westmore, as though sharing with them a delightful secret of
+world-wide importance, and continued on toward the porch, serenely
+interested in his tangled leaders.
+
+Garret glanced at his mother and sister; they both laughed. He said:
+
+"Dad is one of those rarest of modern beings, a genuine angler of the
+old school. After all the myriad trout and salmon he has caught in a
+career devoted to fishing, the next fish he catches gives him just as
+fine a thrill as did the very first one he ever hooked! It's quite
+wonderful, isn't it, mother?"
+
+"It's probably what keeps him so youthful," remarked Westmore. "The
+thing to do is to have something to do. That's the elixir of youth.
+Look at your mother, Garry. She's had a busy handful bringing you
+up!"
+
+Garret looked at his slender, attractive mother and laughed again:
+
+"Is that what keeps you so young and pretty, mother?--looking after
+me?"
+
+"Alas, Garry, I'm over forty, and I look it!"
+
+"Do you?--you sweet little thing!" he interrupted, picking her up
+suddenly from the floor and marching proudly around the room with her.
+"Gaze upon my mother, Jim! Isn't she cunning? Isn't she the smartest
+little thing in America? Behave yourself, mother! Your grateful son is
+showing you off to the appreciative young gentleman from New
+York----"
+
+"You're ridiculous! Jim! Make him put me down!"
+
+But her tall son swung her to his shoulder and placed her high on the
+mantel shelf over the huge fireplace; where she sat beside the clock,
+charming, resentful, but helpless, her spurred boots dangling down.
+
+"Come on, Lee!" cried her brother, "I'm going to put you up beside
+her. That mantel needs ornamental bric-a-brac and objets d'art----"
+
+Lee turned to escape, but her brother cornered and caught her, and
+swung her high, seating her beside his indignant mother.
+
+"Just as though we were two Angora kittens," remarked Lee, sidling
+along the stone shelf toward her mother. Then she glanced out through
+the open front door. "Lift us down, quick, Garry. You'd better! The
+horses are in the flower beds and there'll be no more bouquets for the
+table in another minute!"
+
+So he lifted them off the mantel and they hastily departed, each
+administering correction with her riding crop as she dodged past him
+and escaped.
+
+"If your guests want horses you know where to find them!" called back
+his sister from the porch. And presently she and his mother, securely
+mounted, went cantering away across country, where grass and fern and
+leaf and blossom were glistening in the rising breeze, weighted down
+with diamond drops of rain.
+
+Westmore walked leisurely toward his quarters, to freshen up and don
+knickers. Garret followed him into the west wing, whistling
+contentedly under his breath, inspecting each remembered object with
+great content as he passed, nodding smilingly to the servants he
+encountered, lingering on the landing to acknowledge the civilities of
+the ancient family cat, who recognised him with effusion but coyly
+fled the advances of Westmore, ignoring all former and repeated
+introductions.
+
+Their rooms adjoined and they conversed through the doorway while
+engaged in ablutions.
+
+Presently, from behind his sheer sash-curtains, Westmore caught sight
+of Thessalie on the west terrace below. She wore a shell-pink frock
+and a most distractingly pretty hat; and he hurried his dressing as
+much as he could without awaking Garret's suspicions.
+
+A few minutes later, radiant in white flannels, he appeared on the
+terrace, breathing rather fast but wreathed in persuasive smiles.
+
+"I know this place; I'll take you for a walk where you won't get your
+shoes wet. Shall I?" he suggested, with all his guile and cunning
+quite plain to Thessalie, and his purpose perfectly transparent to her
+smiling eyes.
+
+But she consented prettily, and went with him without demurring,
+picking her way over the stepping-stone walk with downcast gaze and
+the trace of a smile on her lips--a smile as delicately indefinable as
+the fancy which moved her to accept this young man's headlong
+advances--which had recognized them and accepted them from the first.
+But why, she did not even yet understand.
+
+"Agreeable weather, isn't it?" said Westmore, fatuously revealing his
+present paucity of ideas apart from those which concerned the wooing
+of her. And he was an intelligent young man at that, and a sculptor of
+attainment, too. But now, in his infatuated head, there remained room
+only for one thought, the thought of this girl who walked so demurely
+and daintily beside him over the flat, grass-set stepping stones
+toward the three white pines on the little hill.
+
+For it had been something or other at first sight with Westmore--love,
+perhaps--anyway that is what he called the mental chaos which now
+disorganised him. And it was certain that something happened to him
+the first time he laid eyes on Thessalie Dunois. He knew it, and she
+could not avoid seeing it, so entirely naive his behaviour, so utterly
+guileless his manoeuvres, so direct, unfeigned and childish his
+methods of approach.
+
+At moments she felt nervous and annoyed by his behaviour; at other
+times apprehensive and helpless, as though she were responsible for
+something that did not know how to take care of itself--something
+immature, irrational, and entirely at her mercy. And it may have been
+the feminine response to this increasing sense of obligation--the
+confused instinct to guide, admonish and protect--that began being the
+matter with her.
+
+Anyway, from the beginning the man had a certain fascination for her,
+unwillingly divined on her part, yet specifically agreeable even to
+the point of exhilaration. Also, somehow or other, the girl realised
+he had a brain.
+
+And yet he was a pitiably hopeless case; for even now he was saying
+such things as:
+
+"Are you quite sure that your feet are dry? I should never forgive
+myself, Thessa, if you took cold.... Are you tired?... How wonderful
+it is to be here alone with you, and strive to interpret the mystery
+of your mind and heart! Sit here under the pines. I'll spread my coat
+for you.... Nature is wonderful, isn't it, Thessa?"
+
+And when she gravely consented to seat herself he dropped recklessly
+onto the wet pine needles at her feet, and spoke with imbecile delight
+again of nature--of how wonderful were its protean manifestations, and
+how its beauties were not meant to be enjoyed alone but in mystic
+communion with another who understood.
+
+It was curious, too, but this stuff seemed to appeal to her, some
+commonplace chord within her evidently responding. She sighed and
+looked at the mountains. They really were miracles of colour--masses
+of purest cobalt, now, along the horizon.
+
+But perhaps the trite things they uttered did not really matter;
+probably it made no difference to them what they said. And even if he
+had murmured: "There are milestones along the road to Dover," she
+might have responded: "There was an old woman who lived in a shoe";
+and neither of them would have heard anything at all except the rapid,
+confused, and voiceless conversation of two youthful human hearts
+beating out endless questions and answers that never moved their
+smiling lips. There was the mystery, if any--the constant wireless
+current under the haphazard flow of words.
+
+There was no wind in the pines; meadow and pasture, woodland and swale
+stretched away at their feet to the distant, dark-blue hills. And all
+around them hung the rain-washed fragrance of midsummer under a still,
+cloudless sky.
+
+"It seems impossible that there can be war anywhere in the world," she
+said.
+
+"You know," he began, "it's getting on my nerves the way those swine
+from the Rhine are turning this decent green world into a bloody
+wallow! Unless we do something about it pretty soon, I think I'll go
+over."
+
+She looked up:
+
+"Where?"
+
+"To France."
+
+She remained silent for a while, merely lifting her dark eyes to him
+at intervals; then she grew preoccupied with other thoughts that left
+her brows bent slightly inward and her mouth very grave.
+
+He gazed reflectively out over the fields and woods:
+
+"Yes, I can't stand it much longer," he mused aloud.
+
+"What would you do there?" she inquired.
+
+"Anything. I could drive a car. But if they'll take me in some
+Canadian unit--or one of the Foreign Legions--it would suit me.... You
+know a man can't go on just living in the world while this beastly
+business continues--can't go on eating and sleeping and shaving and
+dressing as though half of civilisation were not rolling in agony and
+blood, stabbed through and through----"
+
+His voice caught--he checked himself and slowly passed his hand over
+his smoothly shaven face.
+
+"Those splendid poilus," he said; "where they stand we Americans ought
+to be standing, too.... God knows why we hesitate.... I can't tell you
+what we think.... Some of us--don't agree--with the Administration."
+
+His jaws snapped on the word; he stared out through the sunshine at
+the swallows, now skimming the uncut hay fields in their gusty evening
+flight.
+
+"Are you really going?" she asked, at length.
+
+"Yes. I'll wait a little while longer to see what my country is going
+to do. If it doesn't stir during the next month or two, I shall go. I
+think Garry will go, too."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Of course," he remarked, "we'd prefer our own flag, Garry and I. But
+if it is to remain furled----" He shrugged, picked a spear of grass,
+and sat brooding and breaking it into tiny pieces.
+
+"The only thing that troubles me," he went on presently, keeping his
+gaze riveted on his busy fingers, "the only thing that worries me is
+you!"
+
+"Me?" she exclaimed softly. And an inexplicable little thrill shot
+through her.
+
+"You," he repeated. "You worry me to death."
+
+She considered him a moment, her lips parted as though she were about
+to say something, but it remained unsaid, and a slight colour came
+into her cheeks.
+
+"What am I to do about you?" he went on, apparently addressing the
+blade of grass he was staring at. "I can't leave you as matters
+stand."
+
+She said:
+
+"Please, you are not responsible for me, are you?" And tried to laugh,
+but scarcely smiled.
+
+"I want to be," he muttered. "I desire to be entirely----"
+
+"Thank you. You have been more than kind. And very soon I hope I shall
+be on happy terms with my own Government again. Then your solicitude
+should cease."
+
+"If your Government listens to reason----"
+
+"Then I also could go to France!" she interrupted. "Merely to think of
+it excites me beyond words!"
+
+He looked up quickly:
+
+"You wish to go back?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How can you ask that! If you had been a disgraced exile as I have
+been, as I still am--and falsely accused of shameful things--annoyed,
+hounded, blackmailed, offered bribes, constantly importuned to become
+what I am not--a traitor to my own people--would you not be wildly
+happy to be proven innocent? Would you not be madly impatient to
+return and prove your devotion to your own land?"
+
+"I understand," he said in a low voice.
+
+"Of course you understand. Do you imagine that I, a French girl, would
+have remained here in shameful security if I could have gone back to
+France and helped? I would have done anything--anything, I tell
+you--scrubbed the floors of hospitals, worked my fingers to the
+bone----"
+
+"I'll wait till you go," he said.... "They'll clear your record very
+soon, I expect. I'll wait. And we'll go together. Shall we, Thessa?"
+
+But she had not seemed to hear him; her dark eyes grew remote, her
+gaze swept the sapphire distance. It was his hand laid lightly over
+hers that aroused her, and she withdrew her fingers with a frown of
+remonstrance.
+
+"Won't you let me speak?" he said. "Won't you let me tell you what my
+heart tells me?"
+
+She shook her head slowly:
+
+"I don't desire to hear yet--I don't know where my own heart--or even
+my mind is--or what I think about--anything. Please be reasonable."
+She stole a look at him to see how he was taking it, and there was
+concern enough in her glance to give him a certain amount of hope had
+he noticed it.
+
+"You like me, Thessa, don't you?" he urged.
+
+"Have I not admitted it? Do you know that you are becoming a serious
+responsibility to me? You worry me, too! You are like a boy with all
+your emotions reflected on your features and every thought perfectly
+unconcealed and every impulse followed by unconsidered behaviour.
+
+"Be reasonable. I have asked it a hundred times of you in vain. I
+shall ask it, probably, innumerable times before you comply with my
+request. Don't show so plainly that you imagine yourself in love. It
+embarrasses me, it annoys Garry, and I don't know what his family will
+think----"
+
+"But if I _am_ in love, why not----"
+
+"Does one advertise all one's most intimate and secret and--and sacred
+emotions?" she interrupted in sudden and breathless annoyance. "It is
+not the way that successful courtship is conducted, I warn you! It is
+not delicate, it is not considerate, it is not sensible.... And I _do_
+want you to--to be always--sensible and considerate. I _want_ to like
+you."
+
+He looked at her in a sort of dazed way:
+
+"I'll try to please you," he said. "But it seems to confuse
+me--being so suddenly bowled over--a thing like that rather knocks
+a man out--so unexpected, you know!--and there isn't much use
+pretending," he went on excitedly. "I can't see anybody else in
+the world except you! I can't think of anybody else! I'm madly in
+love--blindly, desperately----"
+
+"Oh, please, _please_!" she remonstrated. "I'm not a girl to be taken
+by storm! I've seen too much--lived too much! I'm not a Tzigane to be
+galloped alongside of and swung to a man's saddle-bow! Also, I shall
+tell you one thing more. Happiness and laughter are necessities to
+me! And they seem to be becoming extinct in you."
+
+"Hang it!" he demanded tragically, "how can I laugh when I'm in
+love!"
+
+At that a sudden, irresponsible little peal of laughter parted her
+lips.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she said, "you _are_ funny! Is it a matter of prayer and
+fasting, then, this gloomy sentiment which you say you entertain for
+me? I don't know whether to be flattered or vexed--you are _so_
+funny!" And her laughter rang out again, clear and uncontrolled.
+
+The girl was quite irresistible in her care-free gaiety; her lovely
+face and delicious laughter no man could utterly withstand, and
+presently a faint grin became visible on his features.
+
+"Now," she cried gaily, "you are becoming human and not a Grecian mask
+or a gargoyle! Remain so, mon ami, if you expect me to wish you good
+luck in your love--your various affairs----" She blushed as she
+checked herself. But he said very quickly:
+
+"Will you wish me luck, Thessa, in my various love affairs?"
+
+"How many have you on hand?"
+
+"Exactly one. Do you wish me a sporting chance? Do you, Thessa?"
+
+"Why--yes----"
+
+"Will you wish me good luck in my courtship of you?"
+
+The quick colour again swept her cheeks at that, but she laughed
+defiantly:
+
+"Yes," she said, "I wish you luck in that, also. Only remember
+this--whether you win or lose you must laugh. _That_ is good
+sportsmanship. Do you promise? Very well! Then I wish you the best of
+luck in your--various--courtships! And may the girl you win at least
+know how to laugh!"
+
+"She certainly does," he said so naively that they both gave way to
+laughter again, finding each other delightfully absurd.
+
+"It's the key to my heart, laughter--in case you are looking for the
+key," she said daringly. "The world is a grim scaffold, mon ami; mount
+it gaily and go to the far gods laughing. Tell me, is there a better
+way to go?"
+
+"No; it's the right way, Thessa. I shan't be a gloom any more. Come
+on; let's walk! What if you do get your bally shoes wet! I'm through
+mooning and fussing and worrying over you, young lady! You're as
+sturdy and vigorous as I am. After all, it's a comrade a man wants in
+the world--not a white mouse in cotton batting! Come! Are you going
+for a brisk walk across country? Or are you a white mouse?"
+
+She stood up in her dainty shoes and frail gown and cast a glance of
+hurt reproach at him.
+
+"Don't be brutal," she said. "I'm not dressed to climb trees and
+fences with you."
+
+"You won't come?"
+
+Their eyes met in silent conflict for a few moments. Then she said:
+"Please don't make me.... It's such a darling gown, Jim."
+
+A wave of deep happiness enveloped him and he laughed: "All right," he
+said, "I won't ask you to spoil your frock!" And he spread his coat on
+the pine needles for her once more.
+
+She considered the situation for a few moments before she sat down.
+But she did seat herself.
+
+"Now," he said, "we are going to discuss a situation. This is the
+situation: I am deeply in love. And you're quite right, it's no
+funeral; it's a joyous thing to be in love. It's a delight, a gaiety,
+a happy enchantment. Isn't it?"
+
+She cast a rather shy and apprehensive glance at him, but nodded
+slightly.
+
+"Very well," he said, "I'm in love, and I'm happy and proud to be in
+love. What I wish then, naturally, is marriage, a home, children----"
+
+"Please, Jim!"
+
+"But I can't have 'em! Why? Because I'm going to France. And the girl
+I wish to marry is going also. And while I bang away at the boche she
+makes herself useful in canteens, rest-houses, hospitals, orphanages,
+everywhere, in fact, where she is needed."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And after it's all over--all over--and ended----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Then--then if she finds out that she loves me----"
+
+"Yes, Jim--if she finds that out.... And thank you for--asking me--so
+sweetly."... She turned sharply and looked out over a valley suddenly
+blurred.
+
+For it had been otherwise with her in years gone by, and men had
+spoken then quite as plainly but differently. Only d'Eblis, burnt out,
+done for, and obsessed, had wearily and unwillingly advanced that
+far.... And Ferez, too; but that was unthinkable of a creature in whom
+virtue and vice were of the same virus.
+
+Looking blindly out over the valley she said:
+
+"If my Government deals justly with me, then I shall go to France with
+you as your comrade. If I ever find that I love you I will be your
+wife.... Until then----" She stretched out her hand, not looking
+around at him; and they exchanged a quick, firm clasp.
+
+And so matters progressed between, these two--rather ominously for
+Barres, in case he entertained any really serious sentiments in regard
+to Thessalie. And, recently, he had been vaguely conscious that he
+entertained something or other concerning the girl which caused him to
+look with slight amazement and unsympathetic eyes upon the all too
+obvious behaviour of his comrade Westmore.
+
+At present he was standing in the summer house which terminated the
+blossoming tunnel of the rose arbour, watching water falling into a
+stone basin from the fishy mouth of a wall fountain, and wondering
+where Thessalie and Westmore had gone.
+
+Dulcie, in a thin white frock and leghorn hat, roaming entranced and
+at hazard over lawn and through shrubbery and garden, encountered him
+there, still squinting abstractedly at the water spout.
+
+It was the first time the girl had seen him since their arrival at
+Foreland Farms. And now, as she paused under the canopy of fragrant
+rain-drenched roses and looked at this man who had made all this
+possible for her, she suddenly felt the change within herself, fitting
+her for it all--a subtle metamorphosis completing itself within
+her--the final accomplishment of a transmutation, deep, radical,
+permanent.
+
+For her, the stark, starved visage which Life had worn had relaxed; in
+the grim, forbidding wall which had closed her horizon, a door opened,
+showing a corner of a world where she knew, somehow, she belonged.
+
+And in her heart, too, a door seemed to open, and her youthful soul
+stepped out of it, naked, fearless, quite certain of itself and, for
+the first time during their brief and earthly partnership, quite
+certain of the body wherein it dwelt.
+
+He was thinking of Thessalie when Dulcie came up and stood beside
+him, looking down into the water where a few goldfish swam.
+
+"Well, Sweetness," he said, brightening, "you look very wonderful in
+white, with that big hat on your very enchanting red hair."
+
+"I feel both wonderful and enchanted," she said, lifting her eyes. "I
+shall live in the country some day."
+
+"Really?" he said smiling.
+
+"Yes, when I earn enough money. Do you remember the crazy way
+Strindberg rolls around? Well, I feel like doing it on that lawn."
+
+"Go ahead and do it," he urged. But she only laughed and chased the
+goldfish around the basin with gentle fingers.
+
+"Dulcie," he said, "you're unfolding, you're blossoming, you're
+developing feminine snap and go and pep and je-ne-sais-quoi."
+
+"You're teasing. But I believe I'm very feminine--and mature--though
+you don't think so."
+
+"Well, I don't think you're exactly at an age called well-preserved,"
+he said, laughing. He took her hands and drew her up to confront him.
+"You're not too old to have me as a playmate, Sweetness, are you?"
+
+She seemed to be doubtful.
+
+"What! Nonsense! And you're not too old to be bullied and coaxed and
+petted----"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"And you're not too old to pose for me----"
+
+She grew pink and looked down at the submerged goldfish. And, keeping
+her eyes there:
+
+"I wanted to ask you," she said, "how much longer you think you would
+require me--that way."
+
+There was a silence. Then she looked at him out of her frank grey
+eyes.
+
+"You know I'll do what you wish," she said. "And I know it is quite
+all right...." She smiled at him. "I belong to you: you made me....
+And you know all about me. So you ought to use me as you wish."
+
+"You don't want to pose?" he said.
+
+"Yes, except----"
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Are you annoyed?"
+
+"No, Sweetness. It's all right."
+
+"You are annoyed--disappointed! And I won't have it. I--I couldn't
+stand it--to have you displeased----"
+
+He said pleasantly:
+
+"I'm not displeased, Dulcie. And there's no use discussing it. If you
+have the slightest feeling that way, when we go back to town I'll do
+things like the Arethusa from somebody else----"
+
+"Please don't!" she exclaimed in such naive alarm that he began to
+laugh and she blushed vividly.
+
+"Oh, you are feminine, all right!" he said. "If it isn't to be you it
+isn't to be anybody."
+
+"I didn't mean that.... _Yes_, I did!"
+
+"Oh, Dulcie! Shame! _You_ jealous!--even to the verge of sacrificing
+your own feelings----"
+
+"I don't know what it is, but I'd rather you used me for your
+Arethusa. You know," she added wistfully, "that we began it
+together."
+
+"Right, Sweetness. And we'll finish it together or not at all. Are you
+satisfied?"
+
+She smiled, sighed, nodded. He released her lovely, childlike hands
+and she walked to the doorway of the summer house and looked out over
+the wall-bed, where tall thickets of hollyhock and blue larkspur
+stretched away in perspective toward a grove of trees and a little
+pond beyond.
+
+His painter's eye, already busy with the beauty of her face and
+figure against the riot of flowers, and almost mechanically
+transposing both into terms of colour and value, went blind suddenly
+as she turned and looked at him.
+
+And for the first time--perhaps with truer vision--he became aware of
+what else this young girl was besides a satisfying combination of tint
+and contour--this lithe young thing palpitating with life--this
+slender, gently breathing girl with her grey eyes meeting his so
+candidly--this warm young human being who belonged more truly in the
+living scheme of things than she did on painted canvas or in marble.
+
+From this unexpected angle, and suddenly, he found himself viewing her
+for the first time--not as a plaything, not as a petted model, not as
+an object appealing to his charity, not as an experiment in
+altruism--nor sentimentally either, nor as a wistful child without a
+childhood.
+
+Perhaps, to him, she had once been all of these. He looked at her with
+other eyes now, beginning, possibly, to realise something of the
+terrific responsibility he was so lightly assuming.
+
+He got up from his bench and went over to her; and the girl turned a
+trifle pale with excitement and delight.
+
+"Why did you come to me?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Did you know I was trying to make you get up and come to me?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Yes! Isn't it curious? I looked at you and kept thinking, 'I want you
+to get up and come to me! I want you to _come_! I _want_ you!' And
+suddenly you got up and came!"
+
+He looked at her out of curious, unsmiling eyes:
+
+"It's your turn, after all, Dulcie."
+
+"How is it my turn?"
+
+"I drew you--in the beginning," he said slowly.
+
+There was a silence. Then, abruptly, her heart began to beat very
+rapidly, scaring her dumb with its riotous behaviour. When at length
+her consternation subsided and her irregular breathing became
+composed, she said, quite calmly:
+
+"You and all that you are and believe in and care for very naturally
+attracted me--drew me one evening to your open door.... It will always
+be the same--you, and what of life and knowledge you represent--will
+never fail to draw me."
+
+"But--though I am just beginning to divine it--you also drew _me_,
+Dulcie."
+
+"How could that be?"
+
+"You did. You do still. I am just waking up to that fact. And that
+starts me wondering what I'd do without you."
+
+"You don't have to do without me," she said, instinctively laying her
+hand over her heart; it was beating so hard and, she feared, so loud.
+"You can always have me when you wish. You know that."
+
+"For a while, yes. But some day, when----"
+
+"Always!"
+
+He laughed without knowing why.
+
+"You'll marry some day, Sweetness," he insisted.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Oh, yes you will----"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+But she only looked away and shook her head. And the silent motion of
+dissent gave him an odd sense of relief.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+A LION IN THE PATH
+
+
+With the decline of day came enough of a chill to spin a delicate
+cobweb of mist across the country and cover forests and hills with a
+bluish bloom.
+
+The sunset had become a splashy crimson affair, perhaps a bit too
+theatrical. In the red blaze Thessalie and Westmore came wandering
+down from the three pines on the hill, and found Barres on the lawn
+scowling at the celestial conflagration in the west, and Dulcie seated
+near on the fountain rim, silent, distrait, watching the scarlet
+ripples spreading from the plashing central jet.
+
+"You can't paint a thing like that, Garry," remarked Westmore. Barres
+looked around:
+
+"I don't want to. Where have you been, Thessa?"
+
+"Under those pines over there. We supposed you'd see us and come up."
+
+Barres glanced at her with an inscrutable expression; Dulcie's grey
+eyes rested on Barres. Thessalie walked over to the reddened pool.
+
+"It's like a prophecy of blood, that water," she said. "And over there
+the world is in flames."
+
+"The Western World," added Westmore, "I hope it's an omen that we
+shall soon catch fire. How long are you going to wait, Garry?"
+
+Barres started to answer, but checked himself, and glanced across at
+Dulcie without knowing exactly why.
+
+"I don't know," he said irresolutely. "I'm fed up now.... But----" he
+continued to look vaguely at Dulcie, as though something of his
+uncertainty remotely concerned her.
+
+"I'm ready to go over when you are," remarked Westmore, placidly
+smiling at Thessalie, who immediately presented her pretty profile to
+him and settled down on the fountain rim beside Dulcie.
+
+"Darling," she said, "it's about time to dress. Are you going to wear
+that enchanting white affair we discovered at Mandel's?"
+
+Barres senior came sauntering out of the woods and through the wall
+gate, switching a limber rod reflectively. He obligingly opened his
+creel and displayed half a dozen long, slim trout.
+
+"They all took that midge fly I described to you this afternoon," he
+said, with the virtuous satisfaction of all prophets.
+
+Everybody inspected the crimson-flecked fish while Barres senior stood
+twirling his monocle.
+
+"Are we dining at home?" inquired his son.
+
+"I believe so. There is a guest of honour, if I recollect--some fellow
+they're lionising--I don't remember.... And one or two others--the
+Gerhardts, I believe."
+
+"Then we'd better dress, I think," said Thessalie, encircling Dulcie's
+waist.
+
+"Sorry," said Barres senior, "hoped to take you young ladies out on
+the second lake and let you try for a big fish this evening."
+
+He walked across the lawn beside them, switching his rod as
+complacently as a pleased cat twitches its tail.
+
+"We'll try it to-morrow evening," he continued reassuringly, as though
+all their most passionate hopes had been bound up in the suggested
+sport; "it's rather annoying--I can't remember who's dining with
+us--some celebrated Irishman--poet of sorts--literary chap--guest of
+the Gerhardts--neighbours, you know. It's a nuisance to bother with
+dinner when the trout rise only after sunset."
+
+"Don't you ever dine willingly, Mr. Barres, while the trout are
+rising?" inquired Thessalie, laughing.
+
+"Never willingly," he replied in a perfectly sincere voice. "I prefer
+to remain near the water and have a bit of supper when I return." He
+smiled at Thessalie indulgently. "No doubt it amuses you, but I wager
+that you and little Miss Soane here will feel exactly as I do after
+you've caught your first big trout."
+
+They entered the house together, followed by Garry and Westmore.
+
+A dim, ruddy glow still lingered in the quiet rooms; every window
+glass was still lighted by the sun's smouldering ashes sinking in the
+west; no lamps had yet been lighted on the ground floor.
+
+"It's the magic hour on the water," Barres senior confided to Dulcie,
+"and here I am, doomed to a stiff shirt and table talk. In other
+words, nailed!" And he gave her a mysterious, melancholy, but
+significant look as though she alone were really fitted to understand
+the distressing dilemmas of an angler.
+
+"Would it be too late to fish after dinner?" ventured Dulcie. "I'd
+love to go with you----"
+
+"Would you, really!" he exclaimed, warmly grateful. "That is the
+spirit I admire in a girl! It's human, it's discriminating! And yet,
+do you know, nobody except myself in this household seems to care very
+much about angling? And, actually, I don't believe there is another
+soul in this entire house who would care to miss dinner for the sake
+of landing the finest trout in the second lake!--unless you would?"
+
+"I really would!" said Dulcie, smiling. "Please try me, Mr. Barres."
+
+"Indeed, I shall! I'll give you one of my pet rods, too! I'll----"
+
+The rich, metallic murmur of a temple gong broke out in the dim quiet
+of the house. It was the dressing bell.
+
+"We'll talk it over at dinner--if they'll let me sit by you,"
+whispered Barres senior. And with the smile and the cautionary gesture
+of the true conspirator, he went away in the demi-light.
+
+Thessalie came from the bay window, where she had been with Westmore
+and Garry, and she and Dulcie walked away toward the staircase hall,
+leisurely followed by the two men who, however, turned again into the
+western wing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was the first to reappear and descend the stairs of the north
+wing--a willowy white shape in the early dusk, slim as a young spirit
+in the lamplit silence.
+
+Nobody else had come down; a maid was turning up a lamp here and
+there; the plebeian family cat came out of the shadows from somewhere
+and made advances as though divining that this quiet stranger was a
+friend to cats.
+
+So Dulcie stooped to pet her, then wandered on through the place and
+finally into the music room, where she seated herself at the piano and
+touched the keys softly in the semi-dusk.
+
+Among the songs--words and music--which her mother had left in
+manuscript, was one which she had learned recently,--"Blue Eyes"--and
+she played the air now, seated there all alone in the subdued lamp
+light.
+
+Presently people began to appear from above--Mrs. Barres, who motioned
+her not to rise, and who seated herself near, watching the girl's
+slender fingers moving on the keys; then Lee, who came and stood
+beside her, followed in a few moments by Thessalie and the two younger
+men.
+
+"What is that lovely little air you are playing?" inquired Mrs.
+Barres.
+
+"It is called 'Blue Eyes,'" said Dulcie, absently.
+
+"I have never before heard it."
+
+The girl looked up:
+
+"No, my mother wrote it."
+
+After a silence:
+
+"It is really exquisite," said Mrs. Barres. "Are there words to it?"
+
+Some people had come into the entrance hall beyond; there was the low
+whirring of an automobile outside.
+
+"Yes, my mother made some verses for it," replied Dulcie.
+
+"Will you sing them for me after dinner?"
+
+"Yes, I shall be happy to."
+
+Mrs. Barres turned to welcome her new guests, now entering the music
+room convoyed by Barres senior, who was arrayed in the dreaded "stiff
+shirt" and already indulging in "table talk."
+
+"They took," he was explaining, "a midge-fly with no hackle--Claire,
+here are the Gerhardts and Mr. Skeel!" And while his wife welcomed
+them and introductions were effected, he continued explaining the
+construction of the midge to anybody who listened.
+
+At the first mention of Murtagh Skeel's name, the glances of Westmore,
+Garry and Thessalie crossed like lightning, then their attention
+became riveted on this tall, graceful, romantic looking man of early
+middle age, who was being lionised at Northbrook.
+
+The next moment Garry stepped back beside Dulcie Soane, who had turned
+white as a flower and was gazing at Skeel as though she had seen a
+ghost.
+
+"Do you suppose he can be the same man your mother knew?" he
+whispered, dropping his arm and taking her trembling hand in a firm
+clasp.
+
+"I don't know.... I seem to feel so.... I can't explain to you how it
+pierced my heart--the sound of his name.... Oh, Garry!--suppose it is
+true--that he is the man my mother knew--and cared for!"
+
+Before he could speak, cocktails were served, and Adolf Gerhardt, a
+large, bearded, pompous man, engaged him in explosive conversation:
+
+"Yes, this fellow Corot Mandel is producing a new spectacle-play on my
+lawn to-morrow evening. Your family and your guests are invited, of
+course. And for the dance, also----" He included Dulcie in a pompous
+bow, finished his cocktail with another flourish:
+
+"You will find my friend Skeel very attractive," he went on. "You know
+who he is?--_the_ Murtagh Skeel who writes those Irish poems of the
+West Coast--and is not, I believe, very well received in England just
+now--a matter of nationalism--patriotism, eh? Why should it surprise
+your Britisher, eh?--if a gentleman like Murtagh Skeel displays no
+sympathy for England?--if a gentleman like my friend, Sir Roger
+Casement, prefers to live in Germany?"
+
+Garry, under his own roof, said pleasantly:
+
+"It wouldn't do for us to discuss those things, I fear, Mr. Gerhardt.
+And your Irish lion seems to be very gentle and charming. He must be
+fascinating to women."
+
+Gerhardt threw up his hands:
+
+"Oh, Lord! They would like to eat him! Or be eaten by him! You know?
+It is that way always between the handsome poet and the sex. Which
+eats which is of no consequence, so long as they merge. Eh?" And his
+thunderous laughter set the empty glasses faintly ringing on the
+butler's silver tray.
+
+Garry spoke to Mrs. Gerhardt, a large, pallid, slabby German who might
+have been somebody's kitchen maid, but had been born a _von_.
+
+Later, as dinner was announced, he contrived to speak to Thessalie
+aside:
+
+"Gerhardt," he whispered, "doesn't recognise you, of course."
+
+"No; I'm not at all apprehensive."
+
+"Yet, it was on his yacht----"
+
+"He never even looked twice at me. You know what he thought me to be?
+Very well, he had only social ambitions then. I think that's all he
+has now. You see what he got with his Red Eagle," nodding calmly
+toward Mrs. Gerhardt, who now was being convoyed out by the monocled
+martyr in the "stiff shirt."
+
+The others passed out informally; Lee had slipped her arm around
+Dulcie. As Garry and Thessalie turned to follow, he said in a low
+voice:
+
+"You feel quite secure, then, Thessa?"
+
+She halted, put her lips close to his ear, unnoticed by those ahead:
+
+"Perfectly. The Gerhardts are what you call fatheads--easily used by
+anybody, dangerous to no one, governed by greed alone, without a
+knowledge of any honour except the German sort. But that Irish dreamer
+over there, _he_ is dangerous! That type always is. He menaces the
+success of any enterprise to which his quixotic mind turns, because it
+instantly becomes a fixed idea with him--an obsession, a monomania!"
+
+She took his arm and walked on beside him.
+
+"I know that fascinating, hot-headed, lovable type of mystic
+visionary," she said, "handsome, romantic, illogical, governed
+entirely by emotion, not fickle yet never to be depended on; not
+faithless, but absolutely irresponsible and utterly ignorant of
+fear!... My father was that sort. _Not_ the hunting cheetah Cyril and
+Ferez pretended. And it was in _defence_ of a woman that my father
+died.... Thank God!"
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"Captain Renoux--the other night."
+
+"I'm so glad, Thessa!"
+
+She held her flushed head high and smiled at him.
+
+"You see," she said, "after all it is in my blood to be decent."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Gerhardts, racially vulgar and socially blunt--for the inherent
+vulgarity of the Teutonic peoples is an axiom among the civilised--made
+themselves characteristically conspicuous at the flower-laden table;
+but it was on Murtagh Skeel that all eyes became ultimately focused to
+the limit of good-breeding. He was the lode-star--he was the magnet,
+the vanishing point for all curiosity, all surmises, all interest.
+
+Perfect breeding, perfect unconsciousness of self, were his minted
+marks to guarantee the fineness of his metal. He was natural without
+effort, winning in voice, in manner, in grace of mind and body, this
+fascinating Irishman of letters--a charming listener, a persuasive
+speaker, modest, light hearted, delightfully deferential.
+
+Seated on the right of Mrs. Barres, his smiling hostess very quickly
+understood the situation and made it pleasantly plain to everybody
+that her guest of honour was not to be privately monopolised.
+
+So almost immediately all currents of conversation flowed from all
+sides toward this dark-eyed, handsome man, and in return the
+silver-tongued tide of many currents--the Irish Sea at its sparkling
+flood--flowed prettily and spread out from its perennial source
+within him, and washed and rippled gently over every separate dinner
+plate, so that nobody seemed neglected, and there was jetsam and
+beach-combing for all.
+
+And it was inevitable, presently, that Murtagh Skeel's conversation
+should become autobiographical in some degree, and his careless,
+candid, persuasive phrases turn into little gemlike memories. For he
+came ultimately, of course, to speak of Irish nationalism and what it
+meant; of the Celt as he had been and must remain--utterly unchanged,
+as long as the last Celt remained alive on earth.
+
+The subject, naturally, invaded the fairy lore, wild legend and lovely
+mysticism of the West Coast; and centred about his own exquisite work
+of interpreting it.
+
+He spoke of it very modestly, as his source of inspiration, as the
+inception of his own creative work in that field. But always, through
+whatever he said, rang low and clear his passionate patriotism and the
+only motive which incited him to creative effort--his longing for
+national autonomy and the re-gathering of a scattered people in
+preparation for its massed journey toward its Destiny.
+
+His voice was musical, his words unconscious poetry. Without effort,
+without pains, alas!--without logic--he held every ear enthralled
+there in the soft candlelight and subdued glimmer of crystal and of
+silver.
+
+His was the magic of shadow and half-lights, of vague nuances and lost
+outlines, and the valued degrees of impinging shade. No sharp
+contours, no stark, uncompromising shapes, no brutality of raw
+daylight, and--alas!--no threat of uncompromising logic invaded his
+realm of dreamy demi-lights and faded fantasies.
+
+He reigned there, amid an enchanted twilight of his own creation, the
+embodiment of Irish romance, tender, gay, sweet-minded, persuasive,
+gallant--and tragic, when, at some unexpected moment, the frail veil
+of melancholy made his dark eyes less brilliant.
+
+All yielded to his charm--even the stuffed Teutons, gorging gravy; all
+felt his sway over mind and heart, nor cared to analyse it, there in
+the soft light of candles and the scent of old-fashioned flowers.
+
+There arose some question concerning Sir Roger Casement.
+
+Murtagh Skeel spoke of him with the pure enthusiasm of passionate
+belief in a master by a humble disciple. And the Teutons grunted
+assent.
+
+The subject of the war had been politely avoided, yet, somehow, it
+came out that Murtagh Skeel had served in Britain's army overseas, as
+an enlisted man in some Irish regiment--a romantic impulse of the
+moment, involving a young man's crazy plan to foment rebellion in
+India. Which little gem of a memoire presently made the fact of his
+exile self-explanatory. Yet, he contrived that the ugly revelation
+should end in laughter--an outbreak of spontaneous mirth through which
+his glittering wit passed like lightning, cauterising the running sore
+of treason....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Coffee served, the diners drifted whither it suited them, together or
+singly.
+
+Like an errant spirit, Dulcie moved about at hazard amid the softened
+lights, engaged here, approached there, pausing, wandering on, nowhere
+in particular, yet ever listlessly in motion.
+
+Encountering her near the porch, Barres senior had paused to
+whisper that there was no hope for any fishing that evening; and she
+had lingered to smile after him, as, unreconciled, he took his
+stiff-shirted way toward the pallid, bejewelled, unanimated mass of
+Mrs. Gerhardt, settled in the widest armchair and absorbing cordial.
+
+A moment later the girl encountered Garry. He remained with her for a
+while, evidently desiring to be near her without finding anything in
+particular to say. And when he, in turn, moved elsewhere, obeying some
+hazy mandate of hospitality, he became conscious of a reluctance to
+leave her.
+
+"Do you know, Sweetness," he said, lingering, "that you wear a
+delicate beauty to-night lovelier than I have ever seen in you? You
+are not only a wonderful girl, Dulcie; you are growing into an
+adorable woman."
+
+The girl looked back at him, blushing vividly in her sheer
+surprise--watched him saunter away out of her silent sphere of
+influence before she found any word to utter--if, indeed, she had been
+seeking any, so deeply, so painfully sweet had sunk his words into
+every fibre of her untried, defenceless youth.
+
+Now, as her cheeks cooled, and she came to herself and moved again,
+there seemed to grow around her a magic and faintly fragrant radiance
+through which she passed--whither, she paid no heed, so exquisitely
+her breast was thrilling under the hurrying pulses of her little
+heart.... And presently found herself on the piano bench, quite
+motionless, her gaze remote, her fingers resting on the keys.... And,
+after a long while, she heard an old air stealing through the
+silence, and her own voice,--_a demi-voix_--repeating her mother's
+words:
+
+      I
+
+  "Were they as wise as they are blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  They'd teach me not to trust in you!--
+  If they were wise as they are blue.
+
+  But they're as blithe as they are blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  They bid my heart rejoice in you,
+  Because they're blithe as well as blue.
+
+  Believe and love! my gay heart cries;
+  Believe him not! my mind replies;
+    What shall I do
+  When heart affirms and sense denies
+  All I reveal within my eyes
+    To you?
+
+      II
+
+  "If they were black instead of blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  Perhaps they'd prove unkind to you!
+  If they were black instead of blue.
+
+  But God designed them blithe and blue--
+                            My eyes--
+  Designed them to be kind to you,
+  And made them tender, gay and true.
+
+  Believe me, love, no maid is wise
+  When from the windows of her eyes,
+    Her heart looks through!
+  Alas! My heart, to its surprise,
+  Has learned to look; and now it sighs
+    For you!"
+
+She became conscious of somebody near, as she ended. She turned and
+saw Murtagh Skeel at her elbow--saw his agitated, ashen face--looked
+beyond him and discovered other people gathered in the tinted light
+beyond, listening; then she lifted her clear, still gaze again to the
+white-faced man beside her, and saw his shaken soul staring at her
+through the dark windows of _his_ eyes.
+
+"Where did you learn it?" he asked with a futile effort at that
+control so difficult for any Celt to grasp where the heart is
+involved.
+
+"The song I sang? 'Blue Eyes'?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes--that."
+
+"I have the manuscript of the composer."
+
+"Could you tell me where you got it--and--and who wrote those words
+you sang?"
+
+"The manuscript came to me from my mother.... She wrote it.... I think
+you knew her."
+
+His strong, handsome hand dropped on the piano's edge, gripped it; and
+under his pale skin the quick blood surged to his temples.
+
+"What was your--your mother's name, Miss Soane?"
+
+"She was Eileen Fane."
+
+The throbbing seconds passed and still they looked into each other's
+eyes in silence. And at last:
+
+"So you did know my mother," she said under her breath; and the hushed
+finality of her words set his strong hand trembling.
+
+"Eileen's little daughter," he repeated. "Eileen Fane's child.... And
+grown to womanhood.... Yes, I knew your mother--many years ago....
+When I enlisted and went abroad.... Was it Sir Terence Soane who
+married your mother?"
+
+She shook her head. He stared at her, striving to concentrate, to
+think. "There were other Soanes," he muttered, "the Ellet Water
+folk--no?----But there were many Soanes among the landed gentry in
+the East and North.... I cannot seem to recollect--the sudden
+shock--hearing a song unexpectedly----"
+
+His white forehead had grown damp under the curly hair now clinging to
+it. He passed his handkerchief over his brow in a confused way, then
+leaned heavily on the piano with both hands grasping it. For the ghost
+of his youth was interfering, disputing his control over his own mind,
+filling his ear with forgotten words, taking possession of his memory
+and tormenting it with the distant echoes of a voice long dead.
+
+Through the increasing chaos in his brain his strained gaze sought to
+fix itself on this living, breathing face before him--the child of
+Eileen Fane.
+
+He made the effort:
+
+"There were the Soanes of Colross----" But he got no farther that way,
+for the twin spectres of his youth and _hers_ were busy with his
+senses now; and he leaned more heavily on the piano, enduring with
+lowered head the ghostly whirlwind rushing up out of that obscurity
+and darkness where once, under summer skies, he had sowed a zephyr.
+
+The girl had become rather white, too. One slim hand still rested on
+the ivory keys, the other lay inert in her lap. And after a while she
+raised her grey eyes to this man standing beside her:
+
+"Did you ever hear of my mother's marriage?"
+
+He looked at her in a dull way:
+
+"No."
+
+"You heard--nothing?"
+
+"I heard that your mother had left Fane Court."
+
+"What was Fane Court?"
+
+Murtagh Skeel stared at her in silence.
+
+"I don't know," she said, trembling a little. "I know nothing about
+my mother. She died when I was a few months old."
+
+"Do you mean that you don't know who your mother was? You don't know
+who she married?" he asked, astounded.
+
+"No."
+
+"Good God!" he said, gazing at her. His tense features were working
+now; the battle for self-control was visible to her, and she sat there
+dumbly, looking on at the mute conflict which suddenly sent the tears
+flashing into his dark eyes and left his sensitive mouth twitching.
+
+"I shall not ask you anything now," he said unsteadily; "I shall have
+to see you somewhere else--where there are no people--to interrupt....
+But I shall tell you all I know about--your mother.... I was in
+trouble--in India. Somehow or other I heard indirectly that your
+mother had left Fane Court. Later it was understood that she had
+eloped.... Nobody could tell me the man's name.... My people in
+Ireland did not know.... And I was not on good terms with your
+grandfather. So there was no hope of information from Fane Court.... I
+wrote, indeed, begging, beseeching for news of your mother. Sir
+Barry--your grandfather--returned my letters unopened.... And that is
+all I have ever heard concerning Eileen Fane--your mother--with whom
+I--fell in love--nearly twenty years ago."
+
+Dulcie, marble pale, nodded.
+
+"I knew you cared for my mother," she said.
+
+"How did you learn it?"
+
+"Some letters of hers written to you. Letters from you to her. I have
+nothing else of hers except some verses and little songs--like the one
+you recognised."
+
+"Child, she wrote it as I sat beside her!----" His voice choked,
+broke, and his lips quivered as he fought for self-control again....
+"I was not welcome at Fane Court.... Sir Barry would not tolerate
+me.... Your mother was more kind.... She was very young. And so was I,
+Dulcie.... There were political troubles. I was always involved. God
+knows which was the stronger passion--it must have been love of
+country--the other seeming hopeless--with the folk at Fane Court my
+bitter enemies--only excepting your mother.... So I went away.... And
+which of the Soanes your mother eloped with I have never learned....
+Now, tell me--for you surely know that much."
+
+She said:
+
+"There is a man called Soane who tells me sometimes that he was once a
+gamekeeper at what he calls 'the big house.' I have always supposed
+him to be my father until within the last year. But recently, when he
+has been drinking heavily, he sometimes tells me that my name is not
+Soane but Fane.... Did you ever know of such a man?"
+
+"No. There were gamekeepers about.... No. I cannot recall--and it is
+impossible! A gamekeeper! And your _mother_! The man is mad! What in
+God's name does all this mean!----"
+
+He began to tremble, and his white forehead under the clustering curls
+grew damp and pinched again.
+
+"If you are Eileen's daughter----" But his face went dead white and he
+got no further.
+
+People were approaching from behind them, too; voices grew distinct in
+conversation; somebody turned up another lamp.
+
+"Do sing that little song again--the one you sang for Mr. Skeel," said
+Lee Barres, coming up to the piano on her brother's arm. "Mrs.
+Gerhardt has been waiting very patiently for an opportunity to ask
+you."
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+A SILENT HOUSE
+
+
+The guests from Hohenlinden had departed from Foreland Farms; the
+family had retired. Outside, under a sparkling galaxy of summer stars,
+tall trees stood unstirring; indoors nothing stirred except the family
+cat, darkly prowling on velvet-shod feet in eternal search of those
+viewless things which are manifest only to the feline race--sorcerers
+all, whether quadruped or human.
+
+In various bedrooms upstairs lights went out, one after another, until
+only two windows remained illuminated, one in the west wing, one in
+the north.
+
+For Dulcie, in her negligee and night robe, still sat by the open
+window, chin resting on palm, her haunted gaze remotely lost somewhere
+beyond the July stars.
+
+And, in his room, Garry had arrived only as far as removing coat and
+waistcoat in the process of disrobing for the night. For his mind was
+still deeply preoccupied with Dulcie Soane and with the strange
+expression of her face at the piano--and with the profoundly altered
+visage of Murtagh Skeel.
+
+And he was asking himself what could have happened between those two
+in such a few minutes there at the piano in the music-room. For it was
+evident to him that Skeel was labouring under poorly controlled
+emotion, was dazed by it, and was recovering self-possession only by a
+mighty effort.
+
+And when Skeel had finally taken his leave and had gone away with the
+Gerhardts, he suddenly stopped on the porch, returned to the
+music-room, and, bending down, had kissed Dulcie's hand with a grace
+and reverence which made the salute more of a serious ceremony than
+the impulsive homage of a romantic poet's whim.
+
+Considered by itself, the abrupt return and quaintly perfect salute
+might have been taken as a spontaneous effervescence of that
+delightful Celtic gallantry so easily stirred to ebullition by youth
+and beauty. And for that it was accepted by the others after Murtagh
+Skeel was gone; and everybody ventured to chaff Dulcie a little about
+her conquest--merely the gentle humour of gentlefolk--a harmless word
+or two, a smile in sympathy.
+
+Garry alone saw in the girl's smile no genuine response to the light
+badinage, and he knew that her serenity was troubled, her careless
+composure forced.
+
+Later, he contrived to say good-night to her alone, and gave her a
+chance to speak; but she only murmured her adieux and went slowly away
+up the stairs with Thessalie, not looking back.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, sitting there in his dressing-gown, briar pipe alight, he frowned
+and pondered over the matter in the light of what he already knew of
+Dulcie, of the dead mother who bore her, of the grotesquely impossible
+Soane, of this man, Murtagh Skeel.
+
+What had he and Dulcie found in common to converse about so earnestly
+and so long there in the music-room? What had they talked about to
+drive the colour from Dulcie's cheeks and alter Skeel's countenance so
+that he had looked more like his own wraith than his living self?
+
+That Dulcie's mother had known this man, had once, evidently, been in
+love with him more or less, doubtless was revealed in their
+conversation at the piano. Had Skeel enlightened Dulcie any further?
+And on what subject? Soane? Her mother? Her origin--in case the child
+had admitted ignorance of it? Was Dulcie, now, in possession of new
+facts concerning herself? Were they agreeable facts? Were they
+depressing? Had she learned anything definite in regard to her birth?
+Her parentage? Did she know, now, who was her real father? Was the
+obvious absurdity of Soane finally exploded? Had she learned what the
+drunken Soane meant by asserting that her name was not Soane but
+Fane?
+
+His pipe burned out and he laid it aside, but did not rise to resume
+his preparation for bed.
+
+Then, somewhere from the unlighted depths of the house came the sound
+of the telephone bell--at that hour of night always a slightly ominous
+sound.
+
+He got up and went down stairs, not troubling to switch on any light,
+for the lustre of the starry night outside silvered every window and
+made it possible for him to see his way.
+
+At the clamouring telephone, finally, he unhooked the receiver:
+
+"Hello?" he said. "Yes! Yes! Oh, is that _you_, Renoux? Where on earth
+are you?... At Northbrook?... Where?... At the Summit House? Well, why
+didn't you come here to us?... Oh!... No, it isn't very late. We
+retire early at Foreland.... Oh, yes, I'm dressed.... Certainly....
+Yes, come over.... Yes!... _Yes_!... I'll wait for you in the
+library.... In an hour?... You bet. No, I'm not sleepy.... Sure
+thing!... Come on!"
+
+He hung up the receiver, turned, and made his way through the dusk
+toward the library which was opposite the music-room across the big
+entrance hall.
+
+Before he turned on any light he paused to look out at the splendour
+of the stars. The night had grown warmer; there was no haze, now, only
+an argentine clarity in which shadowy trees stood mysterious and
+motionless and the dim lawn stretched away to the distant avenue and
+wall, lost against their looming border foliage.
+
+Once he thought he heard a slight sound somewhere in the house behind
+him, but presently remembered that the family cat held sway among the
+mice at such an hour.
+
+A little later he turned from the window to light a lamp, and found
+himself facing a slim, white figure in the starry dusk.
+
+"Dulcie!" he exclaimed under his breath.
+
+"I want to talk to you."
+
+"Why on earth are you wandering about at this hour?" he asked. "You
+made me jump, I can tell you."
+
+"I was awake--not in bed yet. I heard the telephone. Then I went out
+into the west corridor and saw you going down stairs.... Is it all
+right for me to sit here in my night dress with you?"
+
+He smiled:
+
+"Well, considering----"
+
+"Of course!" she said hastily, "only I didn't know whether outside
+your studio----"
+
+"Oh, Dulcie, you're becoming self-conscious! Stop it, Sweetness. Don't
+spoil things. Here--tuck yourself into this big armchair!--curl up!
+There you are. And here I am----" dropping into another wide, deep
+chair. "Lord! but you're a pretty thing, Dulcie, with your hair down
+and all glimmering with starlight! We'll try painting you that way
+some day--I wouldn't know how to go about it offhand, either. Maybe a
+screened arc-lamp in a dark partition, and a peep-hole--I don't
+know----"
+
+He lay back in his chair, studying her, and she watched him in silence
+for a while. Presently she sighed, stirred, placed her feet on the
+floor as though preparing to rise. And he came out of his impersonal
+abstraction:
+
+"What is it you want to say, Sweetness?"
+
+"Another time," she murmured. "I don't----"
+
+"You dear child, you came to me needing the intimacy of our
+comradeship--perhaps its sympathy. My mind was wandering--you are so
+lovely in the starlight. But you ought to know where my heart is."
+
+"Is it open--a little?"
+
+"Knock and see, Sweetness."
+
+"Well, then, I came to ask you--Mr. Skeel is coming to-morrow--to see
+me--alone. Could it be contrived--without offending?"
+
+"I suppose it could.... Yes, of course.... Only it will be conspicuous.
+You see, Mr. Skeel is much sought after in certain circles--beginning to
+be pursued and----"
+
+"He asked me."
+
+"Dear, it's quite all right----"
+
+"Let me tell you, please.... He _did_ know my mother."
+
+"I supposed so."
+
+"Yes. He was the man. I want you to know what he told me.... I always
+wish you to know everything that is in my--mind--always, for ever."
+
+She leaned forward in her chair, her pretty, bare feet extended. One
+silken sleeve of her negligee had fallen to the shoulder, revealing
+the perfect symmetry of her arm. But he put from his mind the ever
+latent artistic delight in her, closed his painter's eye to her
+protean possibilities, and resolutely concentrated his mental forces
+upon what she was now saying:
+
+"He turns out to be the same man my mother wrote to--and who wrote to
+her.... They were in love, then. He didn't say why he went away,
+except that my mother's family disliked him.... She lived at a house
+called Fane Court.... He spoke of my mother's father as Sir Barry
+Fane...."
+
+"That doesn't surprise me, Sweetness."
+
+"Did _you_ know?"
+
+"Nothing definite." He looked at the lovely, slender-limbed girl there
+in the starry dusk. "I knew nothing definite," he repeated, "but there
+was no mistaking the metal from which you had been made--or the mould,
+either. And as for Soane----" he smiled.
+
+She said:
+
+"If my name is really Fane, there can be only one conclusion; some
+kinsman of that name must have married my mother."
+
+He said:
+
+"Of course," very gravely.
+
+"Then who was he? My mother never mentioned him in her letters. What
+became of him? He must have been my father. Is he living?"
+
+"Did you ask Mr. Skeel?"
+
+"Yes. He seemed too deeply affected to answer me. He must have loved
+my mother very dearly to show such emotion before me."
+
+"What did you ask him, Dulcie?"
+
+"After we left the piano?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I asked him that. I had only a few more moments alone with him before
+he left. I asked him about my mother--to tell me how she looked--so I
+could think of her more clearly. He has a picture of her on ivory. He
+is to bring it to me and tell me more about her. That is why I must
+see him to-morrow--so I may ask him again about my father."
+
+"Yes, dear...." He sat very silent for a while, then rose, came over,
+and seated himself on the padded arm of Dulcie's chair, and took both
+her hands into his:
+
+"Listen, Sweetness. You are what you are to me--my dear comrade, my
+faithful partner sharing our pretty partnership in art; and, more than
+these, Dulcie, you are my friend.... Never doubt that. Never forget
+it. Nothing can alter it--nothing you learn about your origin can
+exalt that friendship.... Nothing lessen it. Do you understand?
+_Nothing_ can _lessen_ it, save only if you prove untrue to what you
+are--your real self."
+
+She had rested her cheek against his arm while he was speaking. It lay
+there now, pressed closer.
+
+"As for Murtagh Skeel," he said, "he is a charming, cultivated,
+fascinating man. But if he attempts to carry out his agitator's
+schemes and his revolutionary propaganda in this country, he is headed
+for most serious trouble."
+
+"Why does he?"
+
+"Don't ask me why men of his education and character do such things.
+They do; that's all I know. Sir Roger Casement is another man not
+unlike Skeel. There are many, hot-hearted, generous, brave,
+irrational. There is no use blaming them--no justice in it, either.
+The history of British rule in Ireland is a matter of record.
+
+"But, Dulcie, he who strikes at England to-day strikes at civilisation,
+at liberty, at God! This is no time to settle old grievances. And to
+attempt to do it by violence, by propaganda--to attempt a reckoning of
+ancient wrongs in any way, to-day, is a crime--the crime of treachery
+against Christ's teachings--of treason against Lord Christ Himself!"
+
+After a long interval:
+
+"You are going to this war quite soon. Mr. Westmore said so."
+
+"I am going--with my country or without it."
+
+"When?"
+
+"When I finally lose patience and self-respect.... I don't know
+exactly when, but it will be pretty soon."
+
+"Could I go with you?"
+
+"Do you wish to?"
+
+She pressed her cheek against his arm in silence.
+
+He said:
+
+"That has troubled me a lot, Dulcie. Of course you could stay here; I
+can arrange--I had come to a conclusion in regard to financial
+matters----"
+
+"I can't," she whispered.
+
+"Can't what?"
+
+"Stay here--take anything from you--accept without service in
+return."
+
+"What would you do?"
+
+"I wouldn't care--if you--leave me here alone."
+
+"But, Dulcie----"
+
+"I know. You said it this evening. There will come a time when you
+would not find it convenient to have me--around----"
+
+"Dear, it's only because a man and a woman in this world cannot
+continue anything of enduring intimacy without business as an excuse.
+And even then, the pleasant informality existing now could not be
+continued with anything except very serious disadvantage to you."
+
+"You will grow tired of painting me," she said under her breath.
+
+"No. But your life is all before you, Dulcie. Girls usually marry
+sooner or later."
+
+"Men do too."
+
+"That's not what I meant----"
+
+"You will marry," she whispered.
+
+Again, at her words, the same odd uneasiness began to possess him as
+though something obscure, unformulated as yet, must some day be
+cleared up by him and decided.
+
+"Don't leave me--yet," she said.
+
+"I couldn't take you with me to France."
+
+"Let me enlist for service. Could you be patient for a few months so
+that I might learn something--anything!--I don't care what, if only I
+can go with you? Don't they require women to scrub and do unpleasant
+things--humble, unclean, necessary things?"
+
+"You couldn't--with your slender youth and delicate beauty----"
+
+"Oh," she whispered, "you don't know what I could do to be near you!
+That is all I want--all I want in the world!--just to be somewhere not
+too far away. I couldn't stand it, now, if you left me.... I couldn't
+live----"
+
+"Dulcie!"
+
+But, suddenly, it was a hot-faced, passionate, sobbing child who was
+clinging desperately to his arm and staunching her tears against
+it--saying nothing more, merely clinging close with quivering lips.
+
+"Listen," he said impulsively. "I'll give you time. If there's
+anything you can learn that will admit you to France, come back to
+town with me and learn it.... Because I don't want to leave you,
+either.... There ought to be some way--some way----" He checked
+himself abruptly, stared at the bowed head under its torrent of
+splendid hair--at the desperate white little hands holding so fast to
+his sleeve, at the slender body gathered there in the deep chair, and
+all aquiver now.
+
+"We'll go--together," he said unsteadily.... "I'll do what I can; I
+promise.... You must go upstairs to bed, now.... Dulcie!... dear
+girl...."
+
+She released his arm, tried to get up from her chair obediently,
+blinded by tears and groping in the starlight.
+
+"Let me guide you----" His voice was strained, his touch feverish and
+unsteady, and the convulsive closing of her fingers over his seemed to
+burn to his very bones.
+
+At the stairs she tried to speak, thanking him, asking pardon for her
+tears, her loss of self-command, penitent, afraid that she had lowered
+herself, strained his friendship--troubled him----
+
+"No. I--_want_ you," he said in an odd, indistinct, hesitating voice....
+"Things must be cleared up--matters concerning us--affairs----" he
+muttered.
+
+She closed her eyes a moment and rested both hands on the banisters as
+though fatigued, then she looked down at him where he stood watching
+her:
+
+"If you had rather go without me--if it is better for you--less
+troublesome----"
+
+"I've told you," he said in a dull voice, "I want you. You must fit
+yourself to go."
+
+"You are so kind to me--so wonderful----"
+
+He merely stared at her; she turned almost wearily to resume her
+ascent.
+
+"Dulcie!"
+
+She had reached the landing above. She bent over, looking down at him
+in the dusk.
+
+"Did you understand?"
+
+"I--yes, I think so."
+
+"That I _want_ you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is true. I want you always. I'm just beginning to understand that
+myself. Please don't ever forget what I say to you now, Dulcie; I want
+you. I shall always want you. Always! As long as I live."
+
+She leaned heavily on the newel-post above, looking down.
+
+He could not see that her eyes were closed, that her lips moved in
+voiceless answer. She was only a vague white shape there in the dusk
+above him--a mystery which seemed to have been suddenly born out of
+some poignant confusion of his own mind.
+
+He saw her turn, fade into the darkness. And he stood there, not
+moving, aware of the chaos within him, of shapeless questions being
+evolved out of this profound disturbance--of an inner consciousness
+groping with these questions--questions involving other questions and
+menacing him with the necessity of decision.
+
+After a while, too, he became conscious of his own voice sounding
+there in the darkness:
+
+"I am very near to love.... I have been close to it.... It would be
+very easy to fall in love to-night.... But I am wondering--about
+to-morrow.... And afterward.... But I have been very near--very near
+to love, to-night...."
+
+The front doorbell rang through the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+STARLIGHT
+
+
+When Barres opened the front door he saw Renoux standing there in the
+shadow of the porch, silhouetted against the starlight. They exchanged
+a silent grip; Renoux stepped inside; Barres closed the front door.
+
+"Shall I light up?" he asked in a low voice.
+
+"No. There are complications. I've been followed, I think. Take me
+somewhere near a window which commands the driveway out there. I'd
+like to keep my eye on it while we are talking."
+
+"Come on," said Barres, under his breath. He guided Renoux through the
+shadowy entrance hall to the library, moved two padded armchairs to
+the window facing the main drive, motioned Renoux to seat himself.
+
+"When did you arrive?" he asked in a cautious voice.
+
+"This morning."
+
+"What! You got here before we did!"
+
+"Yes. I followed Souchez and Alost. Do you know who _they_ were
+following?"
+
+"No."
+
+"One of your guests at dinner this evening."
+
+"Skeel!"
+
+Renoux nodded:
+
+"Yes. You saw them start for the train. Skeel was on the train. But
+the conference at your studio delayed me. So I came up by automobile
+last night."
+
+"And you've been here all day?"
+
+Renoux nodded, but his keen eyes were fixed on the drive, shining
+silver-grey in the starlight. And his gaze continually reverted to it
+while he continued speaking:
+
+"My friend, things are happening. Let me first tell you what is the
+situation. Over this entire hemisphere German spies are busy, German
+intrigue and propaganda are being accelerated, treason is spreading
+from a thousand foci of infection.
+
+"In South America matters are very serious. A revolution is being
+planned by the half million Germans in Brazil; the neutrality of
+Argentine is being most grossly violated and Count Luxburg, the boche
+Ambassador, is already tampering with Chile and other Southern
+Republics.
+
+"Of course, the Mexican trouble is due to German intrigue which is
+trying desperately to involve that Republic and yours and also drag in
+Japan.
+
+"In Honolulu the German cruiser which your Government has interned is
+sending out wireless information while her band plays to drown the
+crackle of the instrument.
+
+"And from the Golden Gate to the Delaware capes, and from the Soo to
+the Gulf, the spies of Germany swarm in your great Republic, planning
+your destruction in anticipation of the war which will surely come."
+
+Barres reddened in the darkness and his heart beat more rapidly:
+
+"You think it really will come?"
+
+"War with Germany? My friend, I am certain of it. Your Government
+may not be certain. It is, if you permit a foreigner to say
+so--an--unusual Administration.... In this way, for example: it is
+cognisant of almost everything treasonable that is happening; it
+maintains agents in close contact with every mischief-hatching
+German diplomat in this hemisphere; it even has agents in the German
+Embassies--agents unsuspected, who daily rub elbows with German
+Ambassadors themselves!
+
+"It knows what Luxburg is doing; it is informed every day concerning
+Bernstorff's dirty activities; the details of the Mexican and Japanese
+affairs are familiar to Mr. Lansing; all that happens aboard the
+_Geier_, the interned German liners--all that occurs in German
+consulates, commercial offices, business houses, clubs, cafes,
+saloons, is no secret to your Government.
+
+"Yet, nothing has been done, nothing is being done except to continue
+to collect data of the most monstrous and stupendous conspiracy that
+ever threatened a free nation! I repeat that nothing is being done; no
+preparation is being made to face the hurricane which has been looming
+for two years and more, growing ever blacker over your horizon. All
+the world can see the lightning playing behind those storm clouds.
+
+"And, my God!--not an umbrella! Not an order for overshoes and
+raincoats!... I am not, perhaps, in error when I suggest that the
+Administration is an--unusual one."
+
+Barres nodded slowly.
+
+Renoux said:
+
+"I am sorry. The reckoning will be heavy."
+
+"I know."
+
+"Yes, you know. Your great politician, Mr. Roosevelt, knows; your
+great Admiral, Mahan, knew; your great General, Wood, knows. Also,
+perhaps some million or more sane, clear thinking American citizens
+know." He made a hopeless gesture. "It is a pity, Barres, my
+friend.... Well--it is, of course, the affair of your people to
+decide.... We French can only wait.... But we have never doubted your
+ultimate decision.... Lafayette did not live in vain. Yorktown was not
+merely a battle. Your Washington lighted a torch for your people and
+for ours to hold aloft eternally. Even the rain of blood drenching our
+Revolution could not extinguish it. It still burned at Gravelotte, at
+Metz, at Sedan. It burned above the smoke and dust of the Commune. It
+burned at the Marne. It still burns, mon ami."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Alors----" He sat silent for a few moments, his gaze intent on the
+starry obscurity outdoors. Then, slow and pleasantly:
+
+"The particular mess, the cooking of which interests my Government,
+the English Government, and yours, is now on the point of boiling
+over. It's this Irish stew I speak of. Poor devils--they must be
+crazy, every one of them, to do what they are already beginning to
+do.... You remember the papers which you secured?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, what we did last night at Grogan's has prematurely dumped the
+fat into the fire. They know they've been robbed; they know that their
+plans are in our hands. Do you suppose that stops them? No! On the
+contrary, they are at this very moment attempting, as you say in New
+York, to beat us to it."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"This way: the signal for an Irish attempt on Canada is to be the
+destruction of the Welland Canal. You remember the German suggestion
+that an ore steamer be seized? They're going to try it. And if that
+fails, they're to take their power boat into the canal anyway and blow
+up a lock, even if they blow up themselves with it. Did you ever hear
+of such madness? Mon dieu, if only we had those men under your flag
+on our western front!"
+
+"Do you know who these men are?" asked Barres.
+
+"Your dinner guest--Murtagh Skeel--leads this company of Death."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Now! To-morrow! That's why I'm here! That's why your Secret Service
+men are arriving. I tell you the mess is on the point of boiling over.
+The crew is already on its way to take over the launch. They're
+travelling west singly, by separate trains and routes."
+
+"Do you know who they are--these madmen?"
+
+"Here is the list--don't strike a light! I can recall their names, I
+think--some of them anyway----"
+
+"Are any of them Germans?"
+
+"Not one. Your German doesn't blow himself up with anything but beer.
+Not he! No; he lights a fuse and legs it! I don't say he's a coward.
+But self-immolation for abstract principle isn't in him. There have
+been instances resembling it at sea--probably not genuine--not like
+that poor sergeant of ours in 1870, who went into the citadel at Laon
+and shoved a torch into the bin of loose powder under the magazine....
+Because the city had surrendered. And Paris was not many miles
+away.... So he blew himself up with citadel, magazine, all the
+Prussians in the neighbourhood, and most of the town.... Well--these
+Irish are planning something of that sort on the Welland Canal....
+Murtagh Skeel leads them. The others I remember are Madigan, Cassidy,
+Dolan, McBride--and that fellow Soane!----"
+
+"Is _he_ one of them?"
+
+"He surely is. He went west on the same train that brought Skeel here.
+And now I'll tell you what has been done and why I'm here.
+
+"We haven't located the power-boat on the lake. But the Canadians are
+watching for it and your agents are following these Irishmen. When the
+crew assembles they are to be arrested and their power-boat and
+explosives seized.
+
+"I and my men have no official standing here, of course--would not be
+tolerated in any co-operation, _officially_. But we have a certain
+understanding with certain authorities."
+
+Barres nodded.
+
+"You see? Very well. Then, with delicacy and discretion, we keep in
+touch with Mr. Skeel.... And with other people.... You see?... He is
+abed in the large house of Mr. Gerhardt over yonder at Northbrook....
+Under surveillance.... He moves? We move--very discreetly. You see?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Very well, then. But I am obliged to tell you, also, that the hunting
+is not done entirely by our side. No! In turn, I and my men, and also
+your agents, are being hunted by German agents.... It is that which
+annoys and hampers us, because these German agents continually dog us
+and give the alarm to these Irishmen. You see?"
+
+"Who are the German agents? Do you know?"
+
+"Very well indeed. Bernstorff is the head; Von Papen and Boy-ed come
+next. Under them serve certain so-called 'Diplomatic Agents of Class
+No. 1'--Adolf Gerhardt is one of them; his partners, Otto Klein and
+Joseph Schwartzmeyer are two others.
+
+"They, in turn, have under them diplomatic agents of the second
+class--men such as Ferez Bey, Franz Lehr, called _K17_. You see? Then,
+lower still in the scale, come the spies who actually investigate
+under orders; men like Dave Sendelbeck, Johnny Klein, Louis
+Hochstein, Max Freund. And, then, lowest of all in rank are the rank
+and file--the secret 'shock-troops' who carry out desperate
+enterprises under some leader. Among the Germans these are the men who
+sneak about setting fires, lighting the fuses of bombs, scuttling
+ships, defacing Government placards, poisoning Red Cross bandages to
+be sent to the Allies--that sort. But among them are no battalions of
+Death. _Non pas!_ And, for that, you see, they use these Irish. You
+understand now?"
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"Well, then! I trust you absolutely, Barres. And so I came over to ask
+you--and your clever friends, Mademoiselle Dunois, Miss Soane, Mr.
+Westmore, to keep their eyes on this man Skeel to-morrow afternoon and
+also to-morrow evening. Because they will be guests at the Gerhardts'.
+Is it not so?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, your Government's agents will be there. They will also be in
+the neighbourhood, watching roads and railway stations. I have one man
+in service with the Gerhardts--their head chauffeur. If anything
+happens--if Skeel tries to slip away--if you miss him--I would be very
+grateful if you and your friends notify the head chauffeur, Menard."
+
+"We'll try to do it."
+
+"That's all I want. Just get word to Menard that Skeel seems to be
+missing. That will be sufficient. Will you say this to your friends?"
+
+"Yes, I will, Renoux. I'll be glad to. I'll be particularly happy to
+offer to Miss Dunois this proof of your confidence in her integrity."
+
+Renoux looked very grave.
+
+"For me," he said, "Miss Dunois is what she pretends to be. I
+have so informed my Government at home and its representatives at
+Washington."
+
+"Have you heard anything yet?"
+
+"Yes, a telegram in cipher from Washington late this afternoon."
+
+"Favourable to her?"
+
+"Yes. Our Ambassador is taking up immediately the clues Miss Dunois
+furnished me last night. Also, he has cabled at length to my home
+Government. At this hour, no doubt, d'Eblis, Bolo, probably an
+ex-minister or two, are being watched. And in this country your
+Government is now in possession of facts which must suggest a very
+close surveillance of the activities of Ferez Bey."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+Renoux shook his head:
+
+"He _was_ in New York. But he gave us the slip. An eel!" he added,
+rising. "Oh, we shall pick up his slimy traces again in time. But it
+is mortifying.... Well, thank you, mon ami. I must go." And he started
+toward the hall.
+
+"Have you a car anywhere?" asked Barres.
+
+"Yes, up the road a bit." He glanced through the sidelight of the
+front door, carelessly. "A couple of men out yonder dodging about.
+Have you noticed them, Barres?"
+
+"No! Where?"
+
+"They're out there in the shadow of your wall. I imagined that I'd be
+followed." He smiled and opened the front door.
+
+"Wait!" whispered Barres. "You are not going out there alone, are
+you?"
+
+"Certainly. There's no danger."
+
+"Well, I don't like it, Renoux. I'll walk as far as your car----"
+
+"Don't trouble! I have no personal apprehension----"
+
+"All the same," muttered the other, continuing on down the front steps
+beside his comrade.
+
+Renoux shrugged good-humouredly his disapproval of such precaution,
+but made no further protest. Nobody was visible anywhere on the
+grounds. The big iron gates were still locked, but the wicket was
+open. Through this they stepped out onto the macadam.
+
+A little farther along stood a touring car with two men in it.
+
+"You see?" began Renoux--when his words were cut by the crack of a
+pistol, and the red tail-light of the car crashed into splinters and
+went dark.
+
+"Well, by God!" remarked Renoux calmly, looking at the woods across
+the road and leisurely producing an automatic pistol.
+
+Then, from deeper in the thicket, two bright flames stabbed the
+darkness and the crash of the shots re-echoed among the trees.
+
+Both men in the touring car instantly turned loose their pistols;
+Renoux said, in a voice at once perplexed and amused:
+
+"Go home, Barres. I don't want people to know you are out here....
+I'll see you again soon."
+
+"Isn't there anything----"
+
+"Nothing. Please--you would oblige me by keeping clear of this if you
+really desire to help me."
+
+There were no more shots. Renoux stepped leisurely into the tonneau.
+
+"Well, what the devil do you gentlemen make of this?" Barres heard him
+say in his cool, humorous voice. "It really looks as though the boches
+were getting nervous."
+
+The car started. Barres could see Renoux and another man sitting with
+pistols levelled as the car glided along the fringe of woods. But
+there were no more shots on either side, and, after the car had
+disappeared, Barres turned and retraced his way.
+
+Then, as he entered his own gate by the side wicket, and turned to
+lock it with his own key, an electric torch flashed in his face,
+blinding him.
+
+"Let him have it!" muttered somebody behind the dazzling light.
+
+"That's not one of them!" said another voice distinctly. "Look out
+what you're doing! Douse your glim!"
+
+Instantly the fierce glare faded to a cinder. Barres heard running
+feet on the macadam, the crash of shrubbery opposite. But he could see
+nobody; and presently the footsteps in the woods were no longer
+audible.
+
+There seemed to be nothing for him to do in the matter. He lingered by
+the wicket for a while, peering into the night, listening. He saw
+nothing; heard nothing more that night.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+'BE-N EIRINN I!
+
+
+Barres senior rose with the sun. Also with determination, which took
+the form of a note slipped under his wife's door as he was leaving the
+house:
+
+  "DARLING:
+
+  "I lost last night's fishing and I'm hanged if I lose it to-night!
+  So don't ask me to fritter away a perfectly good evening at the
+  Gerhardt's party, because the sun is up; I'm off to the woods; and
+  I shall remain there until the last trout breaks.
+
+  "Tell the little Soane girl that I left a rod for her in the
+  work-room, if she cares to join me at the second lake. Garry can
+  bring her over and leave her if he doesn't wish to fish. Don't
+  send a man over with a lot of food and shawls. I've a creel full
+  of provisions, and I am sufficiently clad, and I hate to be
+  disturbed and I am never grateful to people who try to be good to
+  me. However, I love you very dearly.
+
+  "Your husband,
+
+  "REGINALD BARRES."
+
+At half past seven trays were sent to Mrs. Barres and to Lee; and at
+eight-thirty they were in the saddle and their horses fetlock deep in
+morning dew.
+
+Dulcie, sipping her chocolate in bed, marked their departure with
+sleepy eyes. For the emotions of the night before had told on her, and
+when a maid came to remove the tray she settled down among her
+pillows again, blinking unresponsively at the invitation of the sun,
+which cast over her a fairy net of gold.
+
+Thessalie, in negligee, came in later and sat down on the edge of her
+bed.
+
+"You sleepy little thing," she said, "the men have breakfasted and are
+waiting for us on the tennis court."
+
+"I don't know how to play," said Dulcie. "I don't know how to do
+anything."
+
+"You soon will, if you get up, you sweet little lazy-bones!"
+
+"Do you think I'll ever learn to play tennis and golf and to ride?"
+inquired Dulcie. "You know how to do everything so well, Thessa."
+
+"Dear child, it's all locked up in you--the ability to do everything--be
+anything! The only difference between us is that I had the chance to
+try."
+
+"But I can't even stand on my head," said Dulcie wistfully.
+
+"Did you ever try?"
+
+"N-no."
+
+"It's easy. Do you want to see me do it?"
+
+"Oh, please, Thessa!"
+
+So Thessalie, calmly smiling, rose, cast herself lightly upon her
+hands, straightened her lithe figure leisurely, until, amid a cataract
+of tumbling silk and chiffon, her rose silk slippers pointed toward
+the ceiling. Then, always with graceful deliberation, she brought her
+feet to the floor, forming an arc with her body; held it a moment, and
+slowly rose upright, her flushed face half-buried in her loosened
+hair.
+
+Dulcie, in raptures, climbed out of bed and insisted on immediate
+instruction. Down on the tennis court, Garry and Westmore heard their
+peals of laughter and came across the lawn under the window to
+remonstrate.
+
+"Aren't you ever going to get dressed!" called up Westmore. "If you're
+going to play doubles with us you'd better get busy, because it's
+going to be a hot day!"
+
+So Thessalie went away to dress and Dulcie tiptoed into her bath,
+which the maid had already drawn.
+
+But it was an hour before they appeared on the lawn, cool and fresh in
+their white skirts and shoes, and found Westmore and Barres, red and
+drenched, hammering each other across the net in their second furious
+set.
+
+So Dulcie took her first lesson under Garry's auspices; and she took
+to it naturally, her instinct being sound, but her technique as
+charmingly awkward as a young bird's in its first essay at flying.
+
+To see her all in white, with sleeves tucked up, throat bare, and the
+sun brilliant on her ruddy, rippling hair, produced a curious
+impression on Barres. As far as the East is from the West, so far was
+this Dulcie of the tennis court separated from the wistful, shabby
+child behind the desk at Dragon Court.
+
+Could they possibly be the same--this lithe, fresh, laughing girl,
+with white feet flashing and snowy skirts awhirl?--and the pale,
+grey-eyed slip of a thing that had come one day to his threshold with
+a faltering request for admittance to that wonderland wherein dwelt
+only such as he?
+
+Now, those grey eyes had turned violet, tinged with the beauty of the
+open sky; the loosened hair had become a net entangling the very
+sunlight; and the frail body, now but one smooth, soft symmetry,
+seemed fairly lustrous with the shining soul it masked within it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She came over to the net, breathless, laughing, to shake hands with
+her victorious opponents.
+
+"I'm so sorry, Garry," she said, turning penitently to him, "but I
+need such a lot of help in the world before I'm worth anything to
+anybody."
+
+"You're all right as you are. You always have been all right," he said
+in a low voice. "You never were worth less than you are worth now;
+you'll never be worth more than you are worth to me at this moment."
+
+They were walking slowly across the lawn toward the northern veranda.
+She halted a moment on the grass and cast a questioning glance at
+him:
+
+"Doesn't it please you to have me learn things?"
+
+"You always please me."
+
+"I'm so glad.... I try.... But don't you think you'd like me better if
+I were not so ignorant?"
+
+He looked at her absently, shook his head:
+
+"No ... I couldn't like you better.... I couldn't care more--for any
+girl--than I care for you.... Did you suspect that, Dulcie?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, it's true."
+
+They moved slowly forward across the grass--he distrait, his handsome
+head lowered, swinging his tennis-bat as he walked; she very still and
+lithe and slender, moving beside him with lowered eyes fixed on their
+mingled shadows on the grass.
+
+"When are you to see Mr. Skeel?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"This afternoon.... He asked if he might hope to find me alone.... I
+didn't know exactly what to say. So I told him about the rose
+arbour.... He said he would pay his respects to your mother and sister
+and then ask their permission to see me there alone."
+
+They came to the veranda; Dulcie seated herself on the steps and he
+remained standing on the grass in front of her.
+
+"Remember," he said quietly, "that I can never care less for you than
+I do at this moment.... Don't forget what I say, Dulcie."
+
+She looked up at him, happy, wondering, even perhaps a little
+apprehensive in her uncertainty as to his meaning.
+
+He did not seem to care to enlighten her further. His mood changed,
+too, even as she looked at him, and she saw the troubled gravity fade
+and the old gaiety glimmering in his eyes:
+
+"I've a mind to put you on a horse, Sweetness, and see what happens,"
+he remarked.
+
+"Oh, Garry! I don't want to tumble off before _you_!"
+
+"Before whom had you rather land on that red head of yours?" he
+inquired. "I'd be more sympathetic than many."
+
+"I'd rather have Thessa watch me break my neck. Do you mind? It's
+horrid to be so sensitive, I suppose. But, Garry, I couldn't bear to
+have you see me so shamefully awkward and demoralised."
+
+"Fancy your being awkward! Well, all right----"
+
+He looked across the lawn, where Thessalie and Westmore sat together,
+just outside the tennis court, under a brilliant lawn umbrella.
+
+Oddly enough, the spectacle caused him no subtle pang, although their
+heads were pretty close together and their mutual absorption in
+whatever they were saying appeared evident enough.
+
+"Let 'em chatter," he said after an instant's hesitation. "Thessa or
+my sister can ride with you this afternoon when it's cooler. I suppose
+you'll take to the saddle as though born there."
+
+"Oh, I hope so!"
+
+"Sure thing. All Irish girls--of your quality--take to it."
+
+"My--quality?"
+
+"Yours.... It's merely happened so," he added irrelevantly, "--but the
+contrary couldn't have mattered ... as long as you are _you_! Nothing
+else matters one way or another. You _are_ you: that answers all
+questions, fulfils all requirements----"
+
+"I _don't_ quite understand what you say, Garry!"
+
+"Don't you, Sweetness? Don't you understand why you've always been
+exactly what you appear like at this moment?"
+
+She looked at him with her lovely, uncertain smile:
+
+"I've always been myself, I suppose. You are teasing me dreadfully!"
+
+He laughed in a nervous, excited way, not like himself:
+
+"You bet you have always been yourself, Sweetness!--in spite of
+everything you've always been _yourself_. I am very slow in
+discovering it. But I think I realise it now."
+
+"Please," she remonstrated, "you are laughing at me and I don't know
+why. I think you've been talking nonsense and expecting me to pretend
+to understand.... If you don't stop laughing at me I shall retire to
+my room and--and----"
+
+"What, Sweetness?" he demanded, still laughing.
+
+"Change to a cooler gown," she said, humorously vexed at her own
+inability to threaten or punish him for his gaiety at her expense.
+
+"All right; I'll change too, and we'll meet in the music-room!"
+
+She considered him askance:
+
+"Will you be more respectful to me, Garry?"
+
+"Respectful? I don't know."
+
+"Very well, then, I'm not coming back."
+
+But when he entered the music-room half an hour later, Dulcie was
+seated demurely before the piano, and when he came and stood behind
+her she dropped her head straight back and looked up at him.
+
+"I had a wonderful icy bath," she said, "and I'm ready for anything.
+Are you?"
+
+"Almost," he said, looking down at her.
+
+She straightened up, gazed silently at the piano for a few moments;
+sounded a few chords. Then her fingers wandered uncertainly, as though
+groping for something that eluded them--something that they delicately
+sought to interpret. But apparently she did not discover it; and her
+search among the keys ended in a soft chord like a sigh. Only her lips
+could have spoken more plainly.
+
+At that moment Westmore and Thessalie came in breezily and remained to
+gossip a few minutes before bathing and changing.
+
+"Play something jolly!" said Westmore. "One of those gay Irish things,
+you know, like 'The Honourable Michael Dunn,' or 'Finnigan's Wake,'
+or----"
+
+"I don't know any," said Dulcie, smiling. "There's a song called
+'Asthore.' My mother wrote it----"
+
+"Can you sing it?"
+
+The girl ran her fingers over the keys musingly:
+
+"I'll remember it presently. I know one or two old songs like
+'Irishmen All.' Do you know that song?"
+
+And she sang it in her gay, unembarrassed way:
+
+  "Warm is our love for the island that bore us,
+  Ready are we as our fathers before us,
+    Genial and gallant men,
+    Fearless and valiant men,
+  Faithful to Erin we answer her call.
+    Ulster men, Munster men,
+    Connaught men, Leinster men,
+  Irishmen all we answer her call!"
+
+"Fine!" cried Westmore. "Try it again, Dulcie!"
+
+"Maybe you'll like this better," she said:
+
+    "Our Irish girls are beautiful,
+  As all the world will own;
+    An Irish smile in Irish eyes
+  Would melt a heart of stone;
+    But all their smiles and all their wiles
+  Will quickly turn to sneers
+    If you fail to fight for Erin
+  In the Irish Volunteers!"
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Westmore, beating time and picking up the chorus of
+the "Irish Volunteers," which Dulcie played to a thunderous finish
+amid frantic applause.
+
+She sang for them "The West's Awake!", "The Risin' of the Moon,"
+"Clare's Dragoons," and "Paddy Get Up!" And after Westmore had
+exercised his lungs sufficiently in every chorus, he and Thessalie
+went off to their respective quarters, leaving Barres leaning on the
+piano beside Dulcie.
+
+"Your people are a splendid lot--given half a chance," he said.
+
+"My people?"
+
+"Certainly. After all, Sweetness, you're Irish, you know."
+
+"Oh."
+
+"Aren't you?"
+
+"I don't know what I am," she murmured half to herself.
+
+"Whoever you are it's the same to me, Dulcie." ... He took a few
+short, nervous turns across the room; walked slowly back to her: "Has
+it come back to you yet--that song of your mother's you were trying to
+remember?"
+
+Even while he was speaking the song came back to her memory--her
+mother's song called "Asthore"--startling her with its poignant
+significance to herself.
+
+"Do you recollect it?" he asked again.
+
+"Y-yes ... I can't sing it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I don't wish to sing 'Asthore'----" She bent her head and gazed at
+the keyboard, the painful colour dyeing her neck and cheeks.
+
+When at length she looked up at him out of lovely, distressed eyes,
+something in his face--something--some new expression which she dared
+not interpret--set her heart flying. And, scarcely knowing what she
+was saying in her swift and exquisite confusion:
+
+"The words of my mother's song would mean nothing to you, Garry," she
+faltered. "You could not understand them----"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"B-because you could not be in sympathy with them."
+
+"How do you know? Try!"
+
+"I can't----"
+
+"Please, dear!"
+
+The smile edging her lips glimmered in her eyes now--a reckless little
+glint of humour, almost defiant.
+
+"Do you insist that I sing 'Asthore'?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He seemed conscious of a latent excitement in her to which something
+within himself was already responsive.
+
+"It's about a lover," she said, "--one of the old-fashioned, head-long,
+hot-headed sort--Irish, of course!--you'd not understand--such
+things----" Her tongue and colour were running random riot; her words
+outstripped her thoughts and tripped up her tongue, scaring her a
+little. She drummed on the keys a rollicking trill or two, hesitated,
+stole a swift, uncertain glance at him.
+
+A delicate intoxication enveloped her, stimulating, frightening her a
+little, yet hurrying her into speech again:
+
+"I'll sing it for you, Garry asthore! And if I were a lad I'd be
+singing my own gay credo!--if I were the lad--and you but a lass,
+asthore!"
+
+Then, though her gray eyes winced and her flying colour betrayed her
+trepidation, she looked straight at him, laughingly, and her clear,
+childish voice continued the little prelude to "Asthore":
+
+      I
+
+  "I long for her, who e'er she be--
+  The lass that Fate decrees for me;
+  Or dark or white and fair to see,
+  My heart is hers _'be n-Eirinn i_!
+
+  I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be,
+  I could not love her more!
+  _'Be n-Eirin i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!_[1]
+
+      II
+
+  "I know her tresses unconfined,
+  In wanton ringlets woo the wind--
+  Or rags or silk her bosom bind
+  It's one to me; my eyes are blind!
+
+  I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be,
+  Or poor, or rich galore!
+  _'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!_
+
+      III
+
+  "At noon, some day, I'll climb a hill,
+  And find her there and kiss my fill;
+  And if she won't, I think she will,
+  For every Jack must have his Jill!
+
+  I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be,
+  The lass that I adore!
+  _'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i--
+  'Be n-Eirinn i Asthore!_"
+
+  [1] The refrain, pronounced _Bay-nayring-ee_, is common to a number of
+      Irish love-songs written during the last century. It should be
+      translated: "Whoever she be."
+
+      In writing this song, it is evident that Eileen Fane was
+      inspired by Blind William of Tipperary; and that she was
+      beholden to Carroll O'Daly for her "Eileen, my Treasure,"
+      although not to Robin Adair of County Wicklow.
+
+      AUTHOR.
+
+Dulcie's voice and her flushed smile, too, faded, died out. She looked
+down at the keyboard, where her white hands rested idly; she bent
+lower--a little lower; laid her arms on the music-rest, her face on
+her crossed arms. And, slowly, the tears fell without a tremor,
+without a sound.
+
+He had leaned over her shoulders; his bowed head was close to hers--so
+close that he became aware of the hot, tearful fragrance of her
+breath; but there was not a sound from her, not a stir.
+
+"What is it, Sweetness?" he whispered.
+
+"I--don't know.... I didn't m-mean to--cry.... And I don't know why I
+should.... I'm very h-happy----" She withdrew one arm and stretched it
+out, blindly, seeking him; and he took her hand and held it close to
+his lips.
+
+"Why are you so distressed, Dulcie?"
+
+"I'm not. I'm happy.... You know I am.... My heart was very full; that
+is all.... I don't seem to know how to express myself sometimes....
+Perhaps it's because I don't quite dare.... So something gives way....
+And this happens--tears. Don't mind them, please.... If I could reach
+my handkerchief----" She drew the tiny square of sheer stuff from her
+bosom and rested her closed eyes on it.
+
+"It's silly, isn't it, Garry?... W-when a girl is so heavenly
+contented.... Is anybody coming?"
+
+"Westmore and Thessa!"
+
+She whisked her tears away and sat up swiftly. But Thessa merely
+called to them that she and Westmore were off for a walk, and passed
+on through the hall and out through the porch.
+
+"Garry," she murmured, looking away from him.
+
+"Yes, dear?"
+
+"May I go to my room and fix my hair? Because Mr. Skeel will be here.
+Do you mind if I leave you?"
+
+He laughed:
+
+"Of course not, you charming child!" Then, as he looked down at her
+hand, which he still retained, his expression altered; he inclosed the
+slender fingers, bent slowly and touched the fragrant palm with his
+lips.
+
+They were both on their feet the next second; she passing him with a
+pale, breathless little smile, and swiftly crossing the hall; he dumb,
+confused by the sudden tumult within him, standing there with one hand
+holding to the piano as though for support, and looking after the
+slim, receding figure till it disappeared beyond the library door.
+
+His mother and sister returned from their morning ride, lingered to
+chat with him, then went away to dress for luncheon. Murtagh Skeel had
+not yet arrived.
+
+Westmore and Thessalie returned from their walk in the woods by the
+second lake, reporting a distant view of Barres senior, fishing madly
+from a canoe.
+
+Dulcie came down and joined them in the library. Later Mrs. Barres and
+Lee appeared, and luncheon was announced.
+
+Murtagh Skeel had not come to Foreland Farms, and there was no word
+from him.
+
+Mrs. Barres spoke of his absence during luncheon, for Garry had told
+her he was coming to talk to Dulcie about her mother, whom he had
+known very well in Ireland.
+
+Luncheon ended, and the cool north veranda became the popular
+rendezvous for the afternoon, and later for tea. People from
+Northbrook drove, rode, or motored up for a cheering cup, and a word
+or two of gossip. But Skeel did not come.
+
+By half-past five the north veranda was thronged with a gaily
+chattering and very numerous throng from neighbouring estates. The
+lively gossip was of war, of the coming elections, of German
+activities, of the Gerhardts' promised moonlight spectacle and dance,
+of Murtagh Skeel and the romantic interest he had aroused among
+Northbrook folk.
+
+So many people were arriving or leaving and such a delightful and
+general informality reigned that Dulcie, momentarily disengaged from a
+vapid but persistent dialogue with a chuckle-headed but persistent
+youth, ventured to slip into the house, and through it to the garden
+in the faint hope that perhaps Murtagh Skeel might have avoided the
+tea-crush and had gone directly there.
+
+But the rose arbour was empty; only the bubble of the little wall
+fountain and a robin's evening melody broke the scented stillness of
+the late afternoon.
+
+Her mind was full of Murtagh Skeel, her heart of Garry Barres, as she
+stood there in that blossoming solitude, listening to the robin and
+the fountain, while her eyes wandered across flower-bed, pool, and
+clipped greensward, and beyond the garden wall to the hill where three
+pines stood silver-green against the sky.
+
+Little by little the thought of Murtagh Skeel faded from her mind;
+fuller and fuller grew her heart with confused emotions new to
+her--emotions too perplexing, too deep, too powerful, perhaps, for her
+to understand--or to know how to resist or to endure. For the first
+vague sweetness of her thoughts had grown keen to the verge of
+pain--an exquisite spiritual tension which hurt her, bewildered her
+with the deep emotions it stirred.
+
+To love, had been a phrase to her; a lover, a name. For beyond
+that childish, passionate adoration which Barres had evoked in
+her, and which to her meant friendship, nothing more subtly mature,
+more vital, had threatened her unawakened adolescence with any
+clearer comprehension of him or any deeper apprehension of herself.
+
+And even now it was not knowledge that pierced her, lighting little
+confusing flashes in her mind and heart. For her heart was still a
+child's heart; and her mind, stimulated and rapidly developing under
+the warm and magic kindness of this man who had become her only
+friend, had not thought of him in any other way.... Until to-day.
+
+What had happened in her mind, in her heart, she had not
+analysed--probably was afraid to, there at the piano in the
+music-room. And later, in her bedroom, when she had summoned up
+innocent courage sufficient for self-analysis, she didn't know how to
+question herself--did not realise exactly what had happened to her,
+and never even thought of including him in the enchanted cataclysm
+which had befallen her mind and heart and soul.
+
+Thessalie and Westmore appeared on the lawn by the pool. Behind the
+woods the sky was tinted with pale orange.
+
+It may have been the psychic quality of the Celt in Dulcie--a pale
+glimmer of clairvoyance--some momentary and vague premonition
+wirelessed through the evening stillness which set her sensitive body
+vibrating; for she turned abruptly and gazed northward across the
+woods and hills--remained motionless, her grey eyes fixed on the far
+horizon, all silvery with the hidden glimmer of unlighted stars.
+
+Then she slowly said aloud to herself:
+
+"He will not come. He will never come again--this man who loved my
+mother."
+
+Barres approached across the grass, looking for her. She went forward
+through the arbour to meet him.
+
+"Hasn't he come?" he asked.
+
+"He is not coming, Garry."
+
+"Why? Have you heard anything?"
+
+She shook her head:
+
+"No. But he isn't coming."
+
+"Probably he'll explain this evening at the Gerhardts'."
+
+"I shall never see him again," she said absently.
+
+He turned and gave her a searching look. Her gaze was remote, her face
+a little pale.
+
+They walked back to the house together in silence.
+
+A servant met them in the hall with a note on a tray. It was for
+Barres; Dulcie passed on with a pale little smile of dismissal; Barres
+opened the note:
+
+  "The pot has boiled over, mon ami. Something has scared Skeel. He
+  gave us the slip very cleverly, leaving Gerhardt's house before
+  sunrise and motoring north at crazy speed. Where he will strike
+  the railway I have no means of knowing. Your Government's people
+  are trying to cover Lake Erie and Lake Ontario. On the Canada side
+  the authorities have been notified and are alert I hope.
+
+  "Gerhardt's country house is a nest of mischief hatchers. One in
+  particular is under surveillance and will be arrested. His name is
+  Tauscher.
+
+  "Because, mon ami, it has just been discovered that there are
+  _two_ plots to blow up the Welland Canal! One is Skeel's. The
+  other is Tauscher's. It is a purely German plot. They don't intend
+  to blow themselves up these Huns. Oh no! They expect to get away.
+
+  "Evidently Bernstorff puts no faith in Skeel's mad plan. So, in
+  case it doesn't pan out, here is Tauscher with another plan, made
+  in Germany, and very, very thorough. Isn't it characteristic? Here
+  is the report I received this morning:
+
+  "'Captain Franz von Papen, Military Attache on the ambassadorial
+  staff of Count von Bernstorff, and Captain Hans Tauscher, who,
+  besides being the Krupp agent in America, is also, by appointment
+  of the German War Office, von Papen's chief military assistant in
+  the United States, have plotted the destruction of the Welland
+  Canal in Canada.
+
+  "'Captain Hans Tauscher will be arrested and indicted for
+  violation of Section 13 of the United States Criminal Code, for
+  setting on foot a military enterprise against Canada during the
+  neutrality of the United States.
+
+  "'Tauscher is a German reserve officer and is subject to the
+  orders of Captain Franz von Papen, Military Attache of Count von
+  Bernstorff. His indictment will be brought about by reason of an
+  attempt to blow up parts of the Welland Canal, the waterway
+  connecting Lakes Erie and Ontario. A small party of Germans, under
+  command of one von der Goltz, have started from New York for the
+  purpose of committing this act of sabotage, and, incidentally, of
+  assassination of all men, women and children who might be involved
+  in the explosion at the point to be selected by the plotters.
+
+  "'Tauscher bought and furnished to this crowd of assassins the
+  dynamite which was to be used for the purpose. The fact that
+  Tauscher had bought the dynamite has become known to the United
+  States authorities and he will be called upon to make an
+  explanation.
+
+  "'Captain Tauscher is said to be an agreeable companion, but
+  he had the ordinary predilection of a German officer for
+  assassinating women and children.'
+
+  "Now, then, mon ami, this is the report. I expect that United
+  States Secret Service men will arrest Tauscher to-night. Perhaps
+  Gerhardt, also, will be arrested.
+
+  "At any rate, at the dance to-night you need not look for Skeel.
+  But may I suggest that you and Mr. Westmore keep your eyes on
+  Mademoiselle Dunois. Because, at the railway station to-day, the
+  German agents, Franz Lehr and Max Freund, were recognised by my
+  men, disguised as liveried chauffeurs, but in whose service we
+  have not yet been able to discover.
+
+  "Therefore, it might be well for you and Mr. Westmore to remain
+  near Mademoiselle Dunois during the evening.
+
+  "Au revoir! I shall see you at the dance.
+
+  "RENOUX."
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+THE MOONLIT WAY
+
+
+Barres whistled and sang alternately as he tied his evening tie before
+his looking glass.
+
+      "_And I care not, I,
+  Who ever she be
+    I could not love her more!_"
+
+he chanted gaily, examining the effect and buttoning his white
+waistcoat.
+
+Westmore, loitering near and waiting for him, referred again,
+indignantly, to Renoux's report concerning the presence of Freund and
+Lehr at the Northbrook railway station.
+
+"If I catch them hanging around Thessa," he said, "I'll certainly beat
+them up, Garry.
+
+"Deal with anything of that sort directly; that's always the best way.
+No use arguing with a Hun. When he misbehaves, beat him up. It's the
+only thing he understands."
+
+"Well, it's all right for us to do it now, as long as the French
+Government knows where Thessa is," remarked Barres, drawing a white
+clove-carnation through his buttonhole. "But what do you think of that
+dirty swine, Tauscher, planning wholesale murder like that? Isn't it
+the fine flower of Prussianism? There's the real and porcine boche for
+you, sombre, savage, stupidly ferocious, swinishly persistent, but
+never quite cunning enough, never sufficiently subtle in planning his
+filthy and murderous holocausts."
+
+Westmore nodded:
+
+"Quite right. The _Lusitania_ and Belgium cost the Hun the respect of
+civilisation, and are driving the civilised world into a common
+understanding. We'll go in before long; don't worry."
+
+They descended the stairs together just as dinner was announced.
+
+Mrs. Barres said laughingly to her son:
+
+"Your father is still fishing, I suppose, so in spite of his
+admonition to me by letter this morning, I sent over one of the men
+with some thermos bottles and a very nice supper. He grumbles, but he
+always likes it."
+
+"I wonder what Mr. Barres will think of me," ventured Dulcie. "He left
+such a pretty little rod for me. Thessa and I have been examining it.
+I'd like to go, only--" she added with a wistful smile, "I have never
+been to a real party."
+
+"Of course you're going to the Gerhardts'," insisted Lee, laughing.
+"Dad is absurd about his fishing. I don't believe any girl ever lived
+who'd prefer fishing on that foggy lake at night to dancing at such a
+party as you are going to to-night."
+
+"Aren't you going?" asked Thessalie, but Lee shook her head, still
+smiling.
+
+"We have two young setters down with distemper, and mother and I
+always sit up with our dogs under such circumstances."
+
+Personal devotion of this sort was new to Thessalie. Mrs. Barres and
+Lee told her all about the dreaded contagion and how very dreadful an
+epidemic might be in a kennel of such finely bred dogs as was the
+well-known Foreland Kennels.
+
+Dog talk absorbed everybody during dinner. Mrs. Barres and Lee were
+intensely interested in Thessalie's description of the Grand Duke
+Cyril's Russian wolfhounds, with which she had coursed and hunted as a
+child.
+
+Once she spoke, also, of those strange, pathetic, melancholy
+Ishmaelites, pitiable outcasts of their race--the pariah dogs of
+Constantinople. For, somehow, while dressing that evening, the distant
+complaint of a tethered beagle had made her think of Stamboul. And she
+remembered that night so long ago on the moonlit deck of the _Mirage_,
+where she had stood with Ferez Bey while, from the unseen, monstrous
+city close at hand, arose the endless wailing of homeless dogs.
+
+How strange it was, too, to think that the owner of the _Mirage_
+should this night be her host here in the Western World, yet remain
+unconscious that he had ever before entertained her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before coffee had been served in the entrance hall, the kennel master
+sent in word that one of the pups, a promising Blue Belton, had turned
+very sick indeed, and would Mrs. Barres come to the kennels as soon as
+convenient.
+
+It was enough for Mrs. Barres and for Lee; they both excused
+themselves without further ceremony and went away together to the
+kennels, apparently quite oblivious of their delicate dinner gowns and
+slippers.
+
+"I've seen my mother ruin many a gown on such errands," remarked
+Garry, smiling. "No use offering yourself as substitute; my mother
+would as soon abandon her own sick baby to strangers as turn over an
+ailing pup to anybody except Lee and herself."
+
+"I think that is very splendid," murmured Dulcie, relinquishing her
+coffee cup to Garry and suffering a maid to invest her with a scarf
+and light silk wrap.
+
+"My mother _is_ splendid," said Garry in a low voice. "You will see
+her prove it some day, I hope."
+
+The girl turned her lovely head, curiously, not understanding. Garry
+laughed, but his voice was not quite steady when he said:
+
+"But it all depends on you, Dulcie, how splendid my mother may prove
+herself."
+
+"On _me_!"
+
+"On your--kindness."
+
+"My--_kindness_!"
+
+Thessalie came up in her pretty carnation-rose cloak, esquired by the
+enraptured Westmore, expressing admiration for the clothing adorning
+the very obvious object of his devotion:
+
+"All girls can't wear a thing like that cloak," he was explaining
+proudly; "now it would look like the devil on you, Dulcie, with your
+coppery hair and----"
+
+"What exquisite tact!" shrugged Thessalie, already a trifle restive
+under his constant attendance and unremitting admiration. "Can't you,
+out of your richly redundant vocabulary, find something civil to say
+to Dulcie?"
+
+But Dulcie, still preoccupied with what Barres had said, merely gave
+her an absent-minded smile and walked slowly out beside her to the
+porch, where the headlights of a touring car threw two broad beams of
+gold across the lawn.
+
+It was a swift, short run through the valley northward among the
+hills, and very soon the yellow lights of Northbrook summer homes
+dotted the darkness ahead, and cars were speeding in from every
+direction--from Ilderness, Wythem, East and South Gorloch--carrying
+guests for the Gerhardts' moonlight spectacle and dance.
+
+Apropos of the promised spectacle, Barres observed to Dulcie that
+there happened to be no moon, and consequently no moonlight, but the
+girl, now delightfully excited by glimpses of Hohenlinden festooned
+with electricity, gaily reproached him for being literal.
+
+"If one is happy," she said, "a word is enough to satisfy one's
+imagination. If they call it a moonlight spectacle, I shall certainly
+see moonlight whether it's there or not!"
+
+"They may call it heaven, too, if they like," he said, "and I'll
+believe it--if you are there."
+
+At that she blushed furiously:
+
+"Oh, Garry! You don't mean it, and it's silly to say it!"
+
+"I mean it all right," he muttered, as the car swung in through the
+great ornamental gates of Hohenlinden. "The trouble is that I mean so
+much--and _you_ mean so much to me--that I don't know how to express
+it."
+
+The girl, her face charmingly aglow, looked straight in front of her
+out of enchanted eyes, but her heart's soft violence in her breast
+left her breathless and mute; and when the car stopped she scarcely
+dared rest her hand on the arm which Barres presented to guide her in
+her descent to earth.
+
+It may have been partly the magnificence of Hohenlinden that so
+thrillingly overwhelmed her as she seated herself with Garry on the
+marble terrace of an amphitheatre among brilliant throngs already
+gathered to witness the eagerly discussed spectacle.
+
+And it really was a bewilderingly beautiful scene, there under the
+summer stars, where a thousand rosy lanterns hung tinting the still
+waters of the little stream that wound through the clipped greensward
+which was the stage.
+
+The foliage of a young woodland walled in this vernal scene; the
+auditorium was a semi-circle of amber marble--rows of low benches,
+tier on tier, rising to a level with the lawn above.
+
+The lantern light glowed on pretty shoulders and bare arms, on laces
+and silks and splendid jewels, and stained the sombre black of the men
+with vague warm hues of rose.
+
+Westmore, leaning over to address Barres, said with an amused air:
+
+"You know, Garry, it's Corot Mandel who is putting on this thing for
+the Gerhardts."
+
+"Certainly I know it," nodded Barres. "Didn't he try to get Thessa for
+it?"
+
+Thessalie, whose colour was high and whose dark eyes, roaming, had
+grown very brilliant, suddenly held out her hand to one of two men
+who, traversing the inclined aisle beside her, halted to salute her.
+
+"Your name was on our lips," she said gaily. "How do you do, Mr.
+Mandel! How do you do, Mr. Trenor! Are you going to amaze us with a
+miracle in this enchanting place?"
+
+The two men paid their respects to her, and, with unfeigned
+astonishment and admiration, to Dulcie, whom they recognised only when
+Thessalie named her with delighted malice.
+
+"Oh, I say, Miss Soane," began Mandel, leaning on the back of the
+marble seat, "you and Miss Dunois might have helped me a lot if I'd
+known you were to be in this neighbourhood."
+
+Esme Trenor bent over Barres, dropping his voice:
+
+"We had to use a couple of Broadway hacks--you'll recognise 'em
+through their paint--you understand?--the two that New York screams
+for. It's too bad. Corot wanted something unfamiliarly beautiful and
+young and fresh. But these Northbrook amateurs are incredibly
+amateurish."
+
+Thessalie was chattering away with Corot Mandel and Westmore; Esme
+Trenor gazed upon Dulcie in wonder not unmixed with chagrin:
+
+"You've never forgiven me, Dulcie, have you?"
+
+"For what?" she inquired indifferently.
+
+"For not discovering you when I should have."
+
+She smiled, but the polite effort and her detachment of all interest
+in him were painfully visible to Esme.
+
+"I'm sorry you still remember me so unkindly," he murmured.
+
+"But I never do remember you at all," she explained so candidly that
+Barres was obliged to avert his amused face, and Esme Trenor reddened
+to the roots of his elaborate hair. Mandel, with a wry grin, linked
+his arm in Trenor's and drew him away toward the flight of steps which
+was the stage entrance to the dressing rooms below.
+
+"Good-bye!" he said, waving his hat. "Hope you'll like my moonlight
+frolic!"
+
+"Where's your bally moon!" demanded Westmore.
+
+As he spoke, an unseen orchestra began to play "_Au Claire de la
+Lune_," and, behind the woods, silhouetting every trunk and branch and
+twig, the glittering edge of a huge, silvery moon appeared.
+
+Slowly it rose, flashing a broad path of light across the lawn,
+reflected in the still little river. And when it was in the position
+properly arranged for it, some local Joshua--probably Corot
+Mandel--arrested its further motion, and it hung there, flooding the
+stage with a witching lustre.
+
+All at once the stage swarmed with supple, glimmering shapes: Oberon
+and Titania came flitting down through the trees; Puck, scintillating
+like a dragon-fly, dropped on the sward, seemingly out of nowhere.
+
+It was a wonderfully beautiful ballet, with an unseen chorus singing
+from within the woods like a thousand seraphim.
+
+As for the play itself, which began with the calm and silvered
+river suddenly swarming alive with water-nymphs, it had to do,
+spasmodically, with the love of the fairy crown-prince for the very
+attractive water-nymph, Ythali. This nimble lady, otherwise, was
+fiercely wooed by the King of the Mud-turtles, a most horrid and
+sprawling shape, but a clever foil--with his army of river-rats,
+minks and crabs--to the nymphs and wood fairies.
+
+Also, the music was refreshingly charming, the singing excellent, and
+the story interesting enough to keep the audience amused until the
+end.
+
+There was, of course, much moonlight dancing, much frolicking in the
+water, few clothes on the Broadway principals, fewer on the chorus,
+and apparently no scruples about discarding even these.
+
+But the whole spectacle was so unreal, so spectral, that its shadowy
+beauty robbed it of offence.
+
+That sort of thing had made Corot Mandel famous. He calculated to the
+width of a moonbeam just how far he could go. And he never went a
+hair's breadth farther.
+
+Thessalie looked on with flushed cheeks and parted lips, absorbed in
+it all with the savant eyes of a professional. She also had once
+coolly decided how far her beauty and talent and adolescent effrontery
+could carry her gay disdain of man. And she had flouted him with
+indifferent eyes and dainty nose uplifted--mocked him and his
+conventions, with a few roubles in her dressing-room--slapped the
+collective face of his sex with her insolent loveliness, and careless
+smile.
+
+Perhaps, as she sat there watching the fairy scene, she remembered her
+ostrich and the German Embassy, and the aged Von-der-Goltz Pasha, all
+over jewels and gold, peeping at her through thick spectacles under
+his red fez.
+
+Perhaps she thought of Ferez, too, and maybe it was thought of him
+that caused her smooth young shoulders the slightest of shivers, as
+though a harsh breeze had chilled her skin.
+
+As for Dulcie, she was in the seventh heaven, thrilled with the dreamy
+beauty of it all and the exquisite phantoms floating on the greensward
+under her enraptured eyes.
+
+No other thought possessed her save sheer delight in this revelation
+of pure enchantment.
+
+So intent, so still she became, leaning a little forward in her place,
+that Barres found her far more interesting and wonderful to watch than
+Mandel's cunningly contrived illusions in the artificial moonlight
+below.
+
+And now Titania's trumpets sounded from the woods, warning all of the
+impending dawn. Suddenly the magic fairy moon vanished like the flame
+of a blown-out candle; a faint, rosy light grew through the trees,
+revealing an empty stage and a river on which floated a single swan.
+
+Then, from somewhere, a distant cock-crow rang through the dawn. The
+play was ended.
+
+Two splendid orchestras were alternating on the vast marble terraces
+of Hohenlinden, where hundreds of dancers moved under the white
+radiance of a huge silvery moon overhead--another contrivance of
+Mandel's--for the splendid sphere aglow with white fire had somehow
+been suspended above the linden trees so that no poles and no wires
+were visible against the starry sky.
+
+And in its milky flood of light the dancers moved amid a wilderness of
+flowers or thronged the supper-rooms within, where Teutonic
+architectural and decorative magnificence reigned in one vast,
+incredible, indigestible gastronomic apotheosis of German kultur.
+
+Barres, for the moment, dancing with Thessalie, pressed her fingers
+with mischievous tenderness and whispered:
+
+"The moonlit way once more with you, Thessa! Do you remember our first
+dance?"
+
+"Can I ever thank God enough for that night's folly!" she said, with
+such sudden emotion that his smile altered as he looked into her dark
+eyes.
+
+"Yet that dance by moonlight exiled you," he said.
+
+"Do you realise what it saved me from, too? And what it has given
+me?"
+
+He wondered whether she included Westmore in the gift. The music
+ceased at that moment, and, though the other orchestra began, they
+strolled along the flowering balustrade of the terrace together until
+they encountered Dulcie and Westmore.
+
+"Have you spoken to your hostess?" inquired Westmore. "She's over
+yonder on a dais, enthroned like Germania or a Metropolitan Opera
+Valkyrie. Dulcie and I have paid our homage."
+
+So Barres and Thessalie went away to comply with the required
+formality; and, when they returned from the rite, they found Esme
+Trenor and Corot Mandel cornering Dulcie under a flowering orange tree
+while Westmore, beside her, chatted with a most engaging woman who
+proved, later, to be a practising physician.
+
+Esme was saying languidly, that anybody could fly into a temper and
+kick his neighbours, but that indifference to physical violence was a
+condition of mind attained only by the spiritual intellect of the
+psychic adept.
+
+"Passivism," he added with a wave of his lank fingers, "is the first
+plane to be attained on the journey toward Nirvana. Therefore, I am a
+pacifist and this silly war does not interest me in the slightest."
+
+The very engaging woman, who had been chatting with Westmore, looked
+around at Esme Trenor, evidently much amused.
+
+"I imagined that you were a pacifist," she said. "I fancy, Mr. Mandel,
+also, is one."
+
+"Indeed, I am, madam!" said Corot Mandel. "I've plenty to do in life
+without strutting around and bawling for blood at the top of my
+lungs!"
+
+"Thank heaven," added Esme, "the President has kept us out of war.
+This business of butchering others never appealed to me--except for
+the slightly unpleasant sensations which I experience when I read the
+details."
+
+"Oh. Then unpleasant sensations so appeal to you?" inquired Westmore,
+very red.
+
+"Well, they _are_ sensations, you know," drawled Esme. "And, for a man
+who experiences few sensations of any sort, even unpleasant ones are
+pleasurable."
+
+Mandel yawned and said:
+
+"The war is an outrageous bore. All wars are stupid to a man of
+temperament. Therefore, I'm a pacifist. And I had rather live under
+Prussian domination than rush about the country with a gun and sixty
+pounds of luggage on my back!"
+
+He looked heavily at Dulcie, who had slipped out of the corner on the
+terrace, where he and Esme had penned her.
+
+"There are other things to do more interesting than jabbing bayonets
+into Germans," he remarked. "Did you say you hadn't any dance to spare
+us, Miss Soane? Nor you either, Miss Dunois? Oh, well." He cast a
+disgusted glance at Barres, squinted at Westmore through his greasy
+monocle in hostile silence; then, taking Esme's arm, made them all a
+too profound obeisance and sauntered away along the terrace.
+
+"What a pair of beasts!" said Westmore. "They make me actually ill!"
+
+Barres shrugged and turned to the very engaging lady beside him:
+
+"What do you think of that breed of human, doctor?" he inquired.
+
+She smiled at Barres and said:
+
+"Several of my own patients who are suffering from the same form of
+psycho-neurotic trouble are also peace-at-any-price pacifists. They do
+not come to me to be cured of their pacifism. On the contrary, they
+cherish it most tenderly. In examining them for other troubles I
+happened upon what appeared to me a very close relation between the
+peculiar attitude of the peace-at-any-price pacifist and a certain
+type of unconscious pervert."
+
+"That passivism is perversion does not surprise me," remarked Barres.
+
+"Well," she said, "the pacifist is not conscious of his real
+desires and therefore cannot be termed a true pervert. But the
+very term, passivism, is usually significant and goes very deep
+psychologically. In analysing my patients I struck against a buried
+impulse in them to suffer tyrannous treatment from an omnipotent
+master. The impulse was so strong that it amounted to a craving and
+tried to absorb all the psychic material within its reach. They did
+not recognise the original impulse, because that had long ago been
+crushed down by the exactions of civilised life. Nevertheless,
+they were tortured and teased, made unsettled and wretched by a
+something which continually baffled them. Deep under the upper crust
+of their personalities was concealed a seething desire to be
+completely, inevitably, relentlessly, unreservedly overwhelmed by a
+subjugation from which there was no escape."
+
+She turned to Westmore:
+
+"It's purely pathological, the condition of those two self-confessed
+pacifists. The pacifist loves suffering. The ordinary normal person
+avoids suffering when possible. He endures it only when something
+necessary or desirable cannot be gained in any other way. He may
+undergo agony at the mere thought of it. His bravery consists in
+facing danger and pain in spite of fear. But the extreme passivist,
+who is really an unconscious pervert, loves to dream of martyrdom and
+suffering. It must be a suffering, however, which is forced upon him,
+and it must be a personal matter, not impersonal and general, as in
+war. And he loves to contemplate a condition of complete captivity--of
+irresponsible passivity, in which all resistance is in vain."
+
+"Do you know, they disgust me, those two!" said Westmore angrily. "I
+never could endure anything abnormal. And now that I know Esme is--and
+that big lout, Mandel--I'll keep away from them. Do you blame me,
+doctor?"
+
+"Well," she said, much amused and turning to go, "they're very
+interesting to physicians, you know--these non-resisting, pacifistic
+perverts. But outside a sanatorium I shouldn't expect them to be very
+popular." And she laughed and joined a big, good-looking man who had
+come to seek her, and who wore, in his buttonhole, the button of the
+French Legion of Honour.
+
+Thessalie had strolled forward along the terrace by herself,
+interested in the pretty spectacle and the play of light on jewels and
+gowns.
+
+Westmore, busy in expressing to Barres his opinion of Esme and Mandel,
+did not at the moment miss Thessalie, who continued to saunter on
+along the balustrade of the terrace, under the blossoming row of
+orange trees.
+
+Just below her was another terrace and an oval pool set with tiny jets
+which seemed to spray the basin with liquid silver. Silvery fish, too,
+were swimming in it near the surface, sometimes flinging themselves
+clear out of water as though intoxicated by the unwonted lustre which
+flooded their crystal pool.
+
+To see them nearer, Thessalie ran lightly down the steps and walked
+toward the shimmering basin. And at the same time the head and
+shoulders of a man in evening dress, his bosom crossed by a sash of
+watered red silk, appeared climbing nimbly from a still lower level.
+
+She watched him step swiftly upon the terrace and cross it diagonally,
+walking in her direction toward the stone stairs which she had just
+descended. Then, paying him no further attention, she looked down into
+the water.
+
+He came along very near to where she stood, gazing into the
+pool--peered at her curiously--was already passing at her very
+elbow--when something made her lift her head and look around at him.
+
+The mock moonlight struck full across his features; and the shock of
+seeing him drove every vestige of colour from her own face.
+
+The man halted, staring at her in unfeigned amazement. Suddenly he
+snarled at her, baring his teeth in her shrinking face.
+
+"_Kismet dir!_" he whispered, "it ees _you_!... Nihla Quellen!
+_Now_ I begin onderstan'!... Yas, I now onderstan' who arrange it
+that they haf arrest my good frien', Tauscher! It ees _you_, then!
+Von Igel he has tol' me, look out once eef she escape--thees yoong
+leopardess----"
+
+"Ferez!" Thessalie's young figure stiffened and the colour flamed in
+her cheeks.
+
+"You leopardess!" he repeated, every tooth a-grin again with rage,
+"you misbegotten slut of a hunting cheetah! So thees is 'ow you
+strike!... Ver' well. Yas, I see 'ow it ees you strike at----"
+
+"Ferez!" she cried. "Listen to _me_!"
+
+"I 'ear you! Allez!"
+
+"Ferez Bey! I am not afraid of you!"
+
+"Ees it so?"
+
+"Yes, it is so. I _never_ have been afraid of you! Not even there on
+the deck of the _Mirage_, that night when you tapped the hilt of your
+Kurdish knife and spoke of Seraglio Point! Nor when your scared spy
+shot at me in the corridor of the Tenth Street house; nor afterward at
+Dragon Court! Nor now! Do you understand, Eurasian jackal! Nor _now_!
+Anybody can see what _Heruli_ whelped you! What are you doing in
+America? Kassim Pasha is your den, where your _rayah_ loll and scratch
+in the sun! It is their _Keyeff_! And yours!"
+
+She took a quick step toward him, her eyes flashing, her white hand
+clenched:
+
+"_Allah Kerim_--do you say? _El Hamdu Lillah!_ Do you take yourself
+for the _muezzin_ of all jackals, then, howling blasphemies from some
+_minaret_ in the hills? Do you understand what they'd do to you in
+the _Hirka-i-Sherif Jamesi_? Because you are _nothing_; do you
+hear?--nothing but an Eurasian assassin! And Moslem and Christian
+alike know where _you_ belong among the lost pariahs of Stamboul!"
+
+The girl was utterly transfigured. Whatever of the Orient was in her,
+now blazed white hot.
+
+"What have I done to you, Ferez? What have I ever done to you that
+you, even from my childhood, come always stepping noiselessly at my
+skirt's edge?--always padding behind me at my heels, silent, sinister,
+whimpering with bared teeth for the courage to bite which God denies
+you!"
+
+The man stood almost motionless, moistening his dry lips with his
+tongue, but his eyes moved continually, stealing uneasy glances around
+him and upward, where, on the main terrace above them, the heads of
+the throng passed and repassed.
+
+"Nihla," he said, "for all thees scorn and abuse of me, you know, in
+the false heart of you, why it ees so if I have seek you."
+
+"You dealer in lies! You would have sold me to d'Eblis! You thought
+you _had_ sold me! You were paid for it, too!"
+
+"An' still!" He looked at her furtively.
+
+"What do you mean? You conspired with d'Eblis to ruin me, soul and
+body! You involved me in your treacherous propaganda in Paris. Through
+you I am an exile. If I go back to my own country, I shall go to a
+shameful death. You have blackened my honour in my country's eyes. But
+that was not enough. No! You thought me sufficiently broken, degraded,
+terrified to listen to any proposition from you. You sent your agents
+to me with offers of money if I would betray my country. Finding I
+would not, you whined and threatened. Then, like the Eurasian dog you
+are, you tried to bargain. You were eager to offer me anything if I
+would keep quiet and not interfere----"
+
+"Nihla!"
+
+"What?" she said, contemptuously.
+
+"In spite of thees--of all you say--I have love you!"
+
+"Liar!" she retorted wrathfully. "Do you dare say that to me, whom you
+have already tried to murder?"
+
+"I say it. Yas. Eef it has not been so then you were dead long time."
+
+"You--you are trying to tell me that you spared me!" she demanded
+scornfully.
+
+"It ees so. Alexandre--d'Eblis, you know?--long time since he would
+have safety for us all--thees way. Non! Je ne pourrais pas vouz tuer,
+moi! It ees not in my heart, Nihla.... Because I have love you long
+time--ver' long time."
+
+"Because you have _feared_ me long time, ver' long time!" she mocked
+him. "That is why, Ferez--because you are afraid; because you are only
+a jackal. And jackals never kill. No!"
+
+"You say thees-a to me, Nihla?"
+
+"Yes, I say it. You're a coward! And I'll tell you something more. I
+am going to make a complete statement to the French Government. I
+shall relate everything I know about d'Eblis, Bolo Effendi, a certain
+bureaucrat, an Italian politician, a Swiss banker, old Von-der-Goltz
+Pasha, Heimholz, Von-der-Hohe Pasha, and you, my Ferez--and you,
+also!
+
+[Illustration: HE CAME TOWARD HER STEALTHILY]
+
+"Do you know what France will do to d'Eblis and his scoundrel friends?
+Do you guess what these duped Americans will do to Bolo Effendi? And
+to you? And to Von Papen and Boy-ed and Von Igel--yes, and to
+Bernstorff and his whole murderous herd of Germans? And can you
+imagine what my own doubly duped Government will surely, surely do,
+some day, to you, Ferez?"
+
+She laughed, but her dark eyes fairly glittered:
+
+"_My_ martyrdom is ending, God be thanked! And then I shall be free to
+serve where my heart is ... in Alsace!... Alsace!--forever French!"
+
+In the white light she saw the sweat break out on the man's
+forehead--saw him grope for his handkerchief--and draw out a knife
+instead--never taking his eyes off her.
+
+She turned to run; but he had already blocked the way to the stone
+steps; and now he came creeping toward her, white as a cadaver,
+distracted from sheer terror, and rubbing the knife flat against his
+thigh.
+
+"So you shall do thees--a filth to me--eh, Nihla?" he whispered with
+blanched lips. "It ees on me, your frien', you spring to keel me, eh,
+my leopardess? Ver' well. But firs' I teach you somethings you don'
+know!--thees-a way, my Nihla!"
+
+He came toward her stealthily, moving more swiftly as she put the
+stone basin of the pool between them and cast an agonised glance up at
+the distant terrace.
+
+"Jim!" she cried frantically. "Jim! Help me, Jim!"
+
+The gay din of the music above drowned her cry; she fled as Ferez
+darted toward her, but again he doubled and sprang back to bar the
+stone steps, and she halted, white and breathless, yet poised for
+instant flight.
+
+Again and again she called out desperately for aid; the noise of the
+orchestra smothered her cry. And if, indeed, anybody from the terrace
+above chanced to glance down, it is likely that they supposed these
+two were skylarking merrymakers at some irresponsible game of
+catch-who-can.
+
+Suddenly Thessalie remembered the lower level, where the automobiles
+were parked, and from which Ferez had first appeared. She could escape
+that way. There were the steps, not very far behind her. The next
+instant she turned and ran like a deer.
+
+And after her sped Ferez, his broad, thin-bladed knife pressed flat
+against the crimson sash across his breast, his dead-white visage
+distorted with that blind, convulsive fear which makes murderers out
+of cowards.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+GREEN JACKETS
+
+
+Thoroughly worried by this time over the sudden disappearance of
+Thessalie Dunois, and unable to discover her anywhere on the terrace
+or in the house, Westmore, Barres and Dulcie Soane had followed the
+winding main drive as far as the level, where their car was waiting
+among scores of other cars.
+
+But Thessalie was not there; the chauffeur had not seen her.
+
+"Where in the world could she have gone?" faltered Dulcie. "She was
+standing up there on the terrace with us, a moment ago; then, the very
+next second, she had vanished utterly."
+
+Westmore, grim and pallid, walked back along the drive; Dulcie
+followed with Barres. As they overtook Westmore, he cast one more
+glance back at the ranks of waiting cars, then stared up at the
+terraced hill above them, over which the artificial moon hung above
+the lindens, glowing with pallid, lambent fires.
+
+There was a vague whitish object on one of the grassy slopes--something
+in motion up there--something that was running erratically but
+swiftly--as though in pursuit--or _pursued_!
+
+"My God! What's that, Garry!" he burst out. "That thing up there on
+the hillside!"
+
+He sprang for the steps, Barres after him, taking the ascent at
+incredible speed, up, up, then out along a shrub-set grassy slope.
+
+"Thessa!" shouted Westmore. "Thessa!"
+
+But the girl was flat on her back on the grass now, fighting sturdily
+for life--twisting, striking, baffling the whining, panting thing that
+knelt on her, holding her and trying to drive a knife deep into the
+lithe young body which always slipped and writhed out of his trembling
+clutch.
+
+Again and again he tore himself free from her grasp; again and again
+his armed hand sought to strike, but she always managed to seize and
+drag it aside with the terrible strength of one dying. And at last,
+with a last crazed, superhuman effort, she wrested the knife from his
+unnerved fist, tore it out of his spent fingers.
+
+It fell somewhere near her on the grass; he strove to reach it and
+pick it up, but already her dauntless resistance began to exhaust him,
+and he groped for the knife in vain, trying to pin her down with one
+hand while, with desperate little fists, she rained blows on his
+bloodless face that dazed him.
+
+But there was still another way--a much better way, in fact. And, as
+the idea came to him, he ripped the red-silk sash from his breast and,
+in spite of her struggles, managed to pass it around her bare neck.
+
+"Now!" he panted. "I keep my word at last. C'est fini, ma petite
+Nihla."
+
+"Jim! Help me!" she gasped, as Ferez pulled savagely at the silk
+noose, tightened it with all his strength, knotted it. And in that
+same second he heard Westmore crashing through the shrubbery, close to
+him.
+
+Instantly he rose to his knees on the grass; bounded to his feet,
+leaped over the low shrubs, and was off down the slope--gone like a
+swift hawk's shadow on the hillside. Barres was after him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The soul of Thessalie Dunois was very near to its escape, now,
+brightening, glistening within its unconscious chrysalis, stretching
+its glorious limbs and wings; preparing to arise from its spectral
+tenement and soar aloft to its myriad sisters, where they swarmed
+glittering in the zenith.
+
+Had it not been for the knife lying beside her on the grass--the blade
+very bright in the starlight--truly the youthful soul of Thessalie had
+been sped.
+
+At the edge of the Gerhardts' pine woods, Barres, at fault, baffled,
+furious, out of breath and glaring around him in the dark, sullenly
+gave up the hopeless chase, turned in his tracks, and came back.
+Thessalie, lying in Dulcie's arms, unclosed her eyes and looked up at
+him.
+
+"Are you all right?" he asked, kneeling and bending over her.
+
+"Yes ... Jim came."
+
+Westmore's voice was shaky.
+
+"We worked her arms--Dulcie and I--started respiration. She was nearly
+gone. That beast strangled her----"
+
+"I lost him in those woods below. Who was he?"
+
+"Ferez Bey!"
+
+Thessalie sighed, closed her eyes.
+
+"She's about all in," whispered Westmore. And, to Dulcie: "Let me take
+her. I'll carry her to the car."
+
+At that Thessalie opened her eyes again and the old, faintly humorous
+smile glimmered out at him as he stooped and lifted her from the
+grass.
+
+"Can I really trust myself to your arms, Jim?" she murmured.
+
+"You'd better get used to 'em," he retorted. "You'll never get away
+from them again--I can tell you that right now!"
+
+"Oh.... In that case, I hope they'll be--comfortable--your arms."
+
+"Do you think they will be, Thessa?"
+
+"Perhaps." She gazed into his eyes very seriously from where she lay
+cradled in his powerful arms.
+
+"I'm tired, Jim.... So sore and bruised.... When he was choking me I
+tried to think of you--believing it was the end--my last conscious
+thought----"
+
+"My darling!----"
+
+"I'm so tired," she breathed, "so lonely.... I shall be--contented--in
+your arms.... Always----" She turned her head and rested her cheek
+against his breast with a deep sigh.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He held her in his arms in the car all the way to Foreland Farms.
+Dulcie, however, had possessed herself of Thessalie's left hand, and
+when she stroked it and pressed it to her lips the girl's tightening
+fingers responded, and she always smiled.
+
+"I'm just tired and sore," she explained languidly. "Ferez battered me
+about so dreadfully!... It was so mortifying. I despised him all the
+time. It made me furious to be handled by such a contemptible and
+cowardly creature."
+
+"It's a matter for the police, now," remarked Barres gloomily.
+
+"Oh, Garry!" she exclaimed. "What a very horrid ending to the moonlit
+way we took together so long ago!--the lovely silvery path of
+Pierrot!"
+
+"The story of Pierrot is a tragedy, Thessa! We have been luckier on
+our moonlit way."
+
+"Than Pierrot and Pierrette?"
+
+"Yes. Death always saunters along the path of the moon, watching for
+those who take it.... You are very fortunate, Pierrette."
+
+"Yes," she murmured, "I am fortunate.... Am I not, Jim?" she added,
+looking up wistfully into his shadowy face above her.
+
+"I don't know about that," he said, "but there'll be no more moonlight
+business for you unless I'm with you. And under those circumstances,"
+he added, "I'll knock the block off Old Man Death if he tries to flirt
+with you!"
+
+"How brutal! Garry, do you hear his language to me?"
+
+"I hear," said Barres, laughing. "Your young man is a very matter of
+fact young man, Thessa, and I fancy he means what he says."
+
+She looked up at Westmore; her lips barely moved:
+
+"Do you--dear?"
+
+"You bet I do," he whispered. "I'll pull this planet to pieces looking
+for you if you ever again steal away to a rendezvous with Old Man
+Death."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the car arrived at Foreland Farms, Thessalie felt able to proceed
+to her room upon her own legs, and with Dulcie's arm around her.
+
+Westmore bade her good-night, kissing her hand--awkwardly--not being
+convincing in any role requiring attitudes.
+
+He wanted to take her into his arms, but seemed to know enough not to
+do it. Probably she divined his irresolute state of mind, for she
+extended her hand in a pretty manner quite unmistakable. And the
+romantic education of James H. Westmore began.
+
+Barres lingered at the door after Westmore departed, obeying a
+whispered aside from Dulcie. She came out in a few moments, carefully
+closing the bedroom door, and stood so, one hand behind her still
+resting on the knob.
+
+"Thessa is crying. It's only the natural relaxation from that horrible
+tension. I shall sleep with her to-night."
+
+"Is there anything----"
+
+"Oh, no. She will be all right.... Garry, are they--are they--in
+_love_?"
+
+"It rather looks that way, doesn't it?" he said, smiling.
+
+She gazed at him questioningly, almost fearfully.
+
+"Do _you_ believe that Thessa is in love with Mr. Westmore?" she
+whispered.
+
+"Yes, I do. Don't you?"
+
+"I didn't know.... I thought so. But----"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"I didn't--didn't know--what you would think of it.... I was afraid it
+might--might make you--unhappy."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Don't you _care_ if Thessa loves somebody else?" she asked
+breathlessly.
+
+"Did you think I did, Dulcie?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I don't."
+
+There was a strained silence; then the girl smiled at him in a
+confused manner, drew a swift, sudden breath, and, as he stepped
+forward to detain her, turned sharply away, pressing her forearm
+across her eyes.
+
+"Dulcie! Did you understand me?" he said in a low, unsteady voice.
+
+She was already trying to open the door, but he dropped his right hand
+over her fingers where they were fumbling with the knob, and felt them
+trembling. At the same moment, the sound of Thessalie's smothered and
+convulsive sobbing came to him; and Dulcie's nervous hand slipped from
+his.
+
+"Dulcie!" he pleaded. "Will you come back to me if I wait?"
+
+She had stopped; her back was still toward him, but she nodded
+slightly, then moved on toward the bed, where Thessalie lay all
+huddled up, her face buried in the tumbled pillows.
+
+Barres noiselessly closed the door.
+
+He had already started along the corridor toward his own room, when
+the low sound of voices in the staircase hall just below arrested his
+attention--his sister's voice and Westmore's. And he retraced his
+steps and went down to where they stood together by the library door.
+
+Lee wore a nurse's dress and apron, such as a kennel-mistress affects,
+and her strong, capable hands were full of bottles labelled "Grover's
+Specific"--the same being dog medicine of various sorts.
+
+"Mother is over at the kennels, Garry," she said. "She and I are going
+to sit up with those desperately sick pups. If we can pull them
+through to-night they'll probably get well, eventually, unless
+paralysis sets in. I was just telling Jim that a very attractive young
+Frenchman was here only a few minutes before you arrived. His name is
+Renoux. And he left this letter for you--fish it out of my apron
+pocket, there's a dear----"
+
+Her brother drew out the letter; his sister said:
+
+"Mr. Renoux went away in a car with two other men. He asked me to say
+to you that there was no time to lose--whatever he meant by that! Now,
+I must hurry away!" She turned and sped through the hall and out
+through the swinging screen door on the north porch. Garry had
+already opened the note from Renoux, glanced over it; then he read it
+aloud to Westmore:
+
+  "MY DEAR COMRADE:
+
+  "The fat's in the fire! Your agents took Tauscher in charge
+  to-day. Max Freund and Franz Lehr have just been arrested by your
+  excellent Postal authorities. Warrants are out for Sendelbeck,
+  Johann Klein, and Louis Hochstein. I think the latter are making
+  for Mexico, but your Secret Service people are close on their
+  heels.
+
+  "Recall for von Papen and Boy-ed is certain to be demanded by your
+  Government. Mine will look after Bolo Effendi and d'Eblis and
+  their international gang of spies and crooks. Ferez Bey, however,
+  still eludes us. He is somewhere in this vicinity, but of course,
+  even when we locate him again, we can't touch him. All we can do
+  is to point him out to your Government agents, who will then keep
+  him in sight.
+
+  "So far so good. But now I am forced to ask a very great favour of
+  you, and, if I may, of your friend, Mr. Westmore. It is this:
+  Skeel, contrary to what was expected of him, did not go to the
+  place which is being watched. Nor have any of his men appeared at
+  that rendezvous where there lies the very swift and well-armed
+  launch, _Togue Rouge_, which we had every reason to suppose was to
+  be their craft in this outrageous affair.
+
+  "As a matter of fact, this launch is Tauscher's. But it, and the
+  pretended rendezvous, are what you call a plant. Skeel never
+  intended to assemble his men there; never intended to use that
+  particular launch. Tauscher merely planted it. Your men and the
+  Canadian agents, unfortunately, are covering that vicinity and are
+  still watching for Skeel, who has a very different plan in his
+  crazy head.
+
+  "Now, this is Skeel's plan, and this is the situation, learned by
+  me from papers discovered on Tauscher:
+
+  "The explosives bought and sent there by Tauscher himself are on a
+  big, fast power-boat which is lying at anchor in a little cove
+  called Saibling Bay. The boat flies the Quebec Yacht Club ensign,
+  and a private pennant to which it has no right.
+
+  "Two of Skeel's gang are already aboard--a man named Con McDermott
+  and another, Kelly Walsh. Skeel joins the others at a hamlet near
+  the Lake shore, known as Three Ponds. The tavern is a notorious
+  and disreputable old brick hotel--what you call a speak-easy. That
+  is their rendezvous.
+
+  "Well, then, I have wired to your people, to Canada, to
+  Washington. But Three Ponds is not a very long drive from here, if
+  one ignores speed limits. Yes? Could you help us maintain a close
+  surveillance over that damned tavern to-night? Is it too much to
+  ask?
+
+  "And if you and Mr. Westmore are graciously inclined to aid us,
+  would you be so kind as to come armed? Because, mon ami, unless
+  your Government people arrive in time, I shall certainly try to
+  keep Skeel and his gang from boarding that boat.
+
+  "Au revoir, donc! I am off with Jacques Alost and Emile Souchez
+  for that charming summer resort, the Three Ponds Tavern, where,
+  from the neighbouring roadside woods, I shall hope to flag your
+  automobile by sunrise and welcome you and your amiable friend, Mr.
+  Westmore, as our brothers in arms.
+
+  "RENOUX, your comrade and, friend."
+
+There was a silence. Then Westmore looked at his watch.
+
+"We ought to hustle," he remarked. "I'll get on some knickers and
+stick a couple of guns in my pocket. You'd better telephone to the
+garage."
+
+As they hastened up the stairs together, Barres said: "Have I time for
+a word with Dulcie?"
+
+"That's up to you. I'm not going to say anything to Thessa. I wouldn't
+care to miss this affair. If we arrived too late and they had already
+dynamited the Welland Canal, we'd never forgive ourselves."
+
+Barres ran for his room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were dressed, armed and driving out of the Foreland Farms gates
+inside of ten minutes. Barres had the wheel; Westmore sat beside him
+shoving new clips into two automatics and dividing the remaining boxes
+of ammunition.
+
+"The crazy devils," he said to Barres, raising his voice to make
+himself heard. "Blow up the Canal, will they! What's the matter with
+these Irishmen! The rest are not like 'em. Look at the Flanders
+fighting, Garry! Look at the magnificent record of the Irish
+regiments! Why don't our Irish play the game?"
+
+"It's their blind hatred of England," shouted Barres, in his ear.
+"They're monomaniacs. They can't see anything else--can't see what
+they're doing to civilisation--cutting the very throat of Liberty
+every time they jab at England. What's the use? You can't talk to
+them. They're lunatics. But when they start things over here they've
+got to be put into straitjackets."
+
+"They _are_ lunatics," repeated Westmore. "If they weren't, they
+wouldn't risk the wholesale murder of women and children. That is a
+purely German peculiarity; it's what the normal boche delights in. But
+the Irish are white men. And it's only when they're crazy they'd try a
+thing like this."
+
+After a long silence:
+
+"How fast, Garry?"
+
+"Around fifty."
+
+"How far is it?"
+
+"About twenty-five miles further."
+
+The car rushed on through the night under the brilliant July stars and
+over a perfect road. In the hollows, where spring brooks ran under
+stone bridges, a slight, chilling mist hung, but otherwise the night
+was clear and warm.
+
+Woods, fields, farms, streamed by in the darkness; the car tore on in
+the wake of its glaring, golden headlights, where clouds of little
+winged creatures of the night whirled and eddied like flecks of
+tinsel.
+
+Rarely they encountered other cars, for the hour was late, and there
+were no lights in the farm houses which they passed along the road.
+
+They spoke seldom now, their terrific speed and the roaring wind
+discouraging conversation. But the night air, which they whipped into
+a steadily flowing gale, was still soft and fragrant and warm; and
+with every mile their exhilaration increased.
+
+Now the eastern horizon, which had already paled to a leaden tone, was
+becoming pallid; and few stars were visible except directly overhead.
+
+Barres slowed down to twenty miles. Long double barriers of dense and
+misty woodland flanked the road on either hand, with few cultivated
+fields between and very rarely a ramshackle barn.
+
+Acres of alder swamp spread away on either hand, set with swale and
+pool and tussock. And across the flat desolation the east was all a
+saffron glow now, and the fish-crows were flying in twos and threes
+above the bog holes.
+
+"There's a man in the road ahead," said Westmore.
+
+"I see him."
+
+The man threw up one arm in signal, then made a sweeping gesture
+indicating that they should turn to the left. The man was Renoux.
+
+"A cart-track and a pair of bars," said Westmore. "Their car has been
+in there, too. You can see the tire marks."
+
+Renoux sprang onto the running board without a word.
+
+Barres steered his car very gingerly in through the bars and along the
+edge of the woods where, presently, the swampy cart-track turned to
+the right among the trees.
+
+"All right!" said Renoux briskly, dropping to the ground. He shook
+hands with the two new arrivals, passed one arm under each of theirs,
+and led them forward along a wet, ferny road toward a hardwood ridge.
+
+Here Souchez and Alost, who lay full length on the dead leaves, got
+up, to welcome the reinforcements, and to point out the disreputable
+old brick building which stood close to the further edge of the woods,
+rear end toward them, and fronting on a rutty crossroad beyond.
+
+"Are we in time?" inquired Barres in a low voice.
+
+"Plenty," said Renoux with a shrug. "They've been making a night of it
+in there. They're at it yet. Listen!"
+
+Even at that distance the sound of revelry was audible--shouts,
+laughter, cheering, boisterous singing.
+
+"Skeel is there," remarked Renoux, "and I fancy he's an anxious man.
+They ought to have been out of that house before dawn to escape
+observation, but I imagine Skeel has an unruly gang to deal with in
+those reckless Irishmen."
+
+Barres and Westmore peered out through the fringe of trees across the
+somewhat desolate landscape beyond.
+
+There were no houses to be seen. Here and there on the bogs were
+stakes of swale-hay and a gaunt tree or two.
+
+"That brick hotel," said Renoux, "is one of those places outside town
+limits, where law is defied and license straddles the line. It's run
+by McDermott, one of the two men aboard the power-boat."
+
+"Where is their boat?" inquired Westmore.
+
+Renoux turned and pointed to the southwest.
+
+"Over there in a cove--about a mile south of us. If they leave the
+tavern we can get to the boat first and block their road."
+
+"We'll be between two fires then," observed Barres, "from the boat's
+deck and from Skeel's gang."
+
+Renoux nodded coolly:
+
+"Two on the boat and five in the hotel make seven. We are five."
+
+"Then we can hold them," said Westmore.
+
+"That's all I want," rejoined Renoux briskly. "I just want to check
+them and hold them until your Government can send its agents here. I
+know I have no business to do this--probably I'll get into trouble.
+But I can't sit still and twirl my thumbs while people blow up a canal
+belonging to an ally of France, can I?"
+
+"Hark!" motioned Barres. "They're singing! Poor devils. They're like
+Cree Indians singing their death song."
+
+"I suppose," said Westmore sombrely, "that deep in each man's heart
+there remains a glimmer of hope that he, at least, may come out of
+it."
+
+Renoux shrugged:
+
+"Perhaps. But they are brave, these Irish--brave enough without a
+skinful of whiskey. And with it they are entirely reckless. No sane
+man can foretell what they will attempt." He turned to include Alost
+and Souchez: "I think there can be only one plan of action for us,
+gentlemen. We should string out here along the edges of the woods.
+When they leave the tavern we should run for the landing and get into
+the shack that stands there--a rickety sort of boat-house on piles,"
+he explained to Westmore and Barres. "There is the path through the
+woods." He pointed to the left, where a trodden way bisected the
+wood-road. "It runs straight to the landing," he added.
+
+Alost, at a sign from him, started off westward through the woods.
+Souchez followed. Renoux leaned back against a big walnut tree and
+signified that he would remain there.
+
+So Barres and Westmore moved forward to the right, very cautiously,
+circling the rear of the old brick hotel where a line of ruined
+horse-sheds and a rickety barn screened them from view of the hotel's
+south windows.
+
+So close to the tavern did they pass that they could hear the noisy
+singing very distinctly and see through the open windows the movement
+of shadowy figures under the paling light of a ceiling lamp.
+
+Westmore ventured nearer in hopes of getting a better view from the
+horse-sheds; and Barres crept after him through the rank growth of
+swale and weeds.
+
+"Look at them!" whispered Westmore. "They're in a sort of uniform,
+aren't they?"
+
+"They've got on green jackets and stable-caps! Do you see that stack
+of rifles in the corner of the tap-room?"
+
+"There's Skeel!" muttered Westmore, "the man in the long cloak sitting
+by the fireplace with his face buried in his hands!"
+
+"He looks utterly done in," whispered Barres. "Probably he can't
+manage that gang and he begins to realise it. Hark! You can hear every
+word of that thing they're singing."
+
+Every word, indeed, was a yell or a shout, and distinct enough at
+that. They were roaring out "Green Jackets":
+
+  "_Oh, Irish maids love none but those
+  Who wear the jackets green!_"
+
+--all lolling and carousing around a slopping wet table--all save
+Murtagh Skeel, who, seated near the empty fireplace with his white
+face buried between his fingers, never stirred from his attitude of
+stony immobility.
+
+"There's Soane!" whispered Barres, "that man who just got up!"
+
+It was Soane, his cap cocked aslant on his curly head, his green
+jacket unbuttoned, a tumbler aloft in his unsteady clutch.
+
+"Whurroo!" he yelled. "_Gu ma slan a chi mi!--fear a' Bhata!_" And he
+laid a reckless hand on Skeel's cloaked shoulder. But the latter never
+stirred; and Soane, winking at the company, flourished his tumbler
+aloft and broke into "The Risin' o' the Moon":
+
+  "Oh, then tell me, Shawn O'Ferrall,
+  Phwere the gatherin' is to be!
+    In th' ould shpot be the river;--
+  Sure it's known to you an' me!"
+
+And the others began to shout the words:
+
+  "_Death to every foe and traitor!
+  Forward! Strike the marchin' tune,
+    And hurrah, me lads, for freedom!
+  'Tis the risin' of the moon!_
+
+  "At the risin' of the moon,
+    At the risin' of the moon,
+  And a thousand blades are flashin'
+  At the risin' of the moon!"
+
+"Here's to Murtagh Skeel!" roared Soane, "_An gille dubh ciardubh!_
+Whurroo!"
+
+Skeel lifted his haggard visage, slowly looked around, got up from his
+stool.
+
+"In God's name," he said hoarsely, "if you're not utterly shameless,
+take your rifles and follow me. Look at the sun! Have you lads gone
+stark mad? What will McDermott think? What will Kelly Walsh say? It's
+too late to weigh anchor now; but it isn't too late to go aboard and
+sober up, and wait for dark.
+
+"If you've a rag of patriotism left you'll quit your drinking and come
+with me!"
+
+"Ah, sure, then, Captain dear," cried Soane, "is there anny harrm in a
+bite an' a sup f'r dyin' lads befoor they go whizzin' up to glory?"
+
+"I tell you we should be aboard! _Now!_"
+
+Another said:
+
+"Aw, the cap's right. To hell with the booze. Come on, youse!" And he
+began to button his green jacket. Another got up on unsteady legs:
+
+"Sure," he said, "there do be time f'r to up anchor an' shquare away
+for Point Dalhousie. Phwat's interferin', I dunno."
+
+"A Canadian cruiser," said Skeel with dry bitterness. "Get aboard,
+anyway. We'll have to wait for dark."
+
+There was a reluctant shuffle of feet, a careless adjusting of green
+jackets and caps, a reaching for rifles.
+
+"Come on," whispered Barres, "we've got to get to the landing before
+they do."
+
+They turned and moved off swiftly among the trees. Renoux saw them
+coming, understood, turned and hurried southward to warn Alost and
+Souchez. Barres and Westmore caught glimpses of them ahead, striding
+along the trodden path under the trees, and ran to overtake them.
+
+"They're going aboard," said Barres to Renoux. "But they will
+probably wait till dark before starting."
+
+"They will unless they're stark mad," said Renoux, hurrying out to the
+southern borders of the wood. But no sooner had he arrived on the edge
+of the open swale country than he uttered an exclamation of rage and
+disgust, and threw up his hands helplessly.
+
+It was perfectly plain to the others what was happening--and what now
+could not be prevented.
+
+There lay the big, swift power boat, still at anchor; there stood the
+ramshackle wharf and boat-house. But already a boat had put off from
+the larger craft and was being rowed parallel with the shore toward
+the mouth of a marshy creek.
+
+Two men were rowing; a third steered.
+
+But what had suddenly upset Renoux was the sight of a line of green
+jackets threading the marsh to the north, led by Skeel, who was
+already exchanging handkerchief signals with the men in the boat.
+
+Renoux glanced at his prey escaping by an avenue of which he had no
+previous knowledge. It was death to go out into the open with pistols
+and face the fire of half a dozen rifles. No man there had any
+delusions concerning that.
+
+Souchez had field-glasses slung around his neck. Renoux took them,
+gazed at the receding boat, set his teeth hard.
+
+"Ferez!" he growled.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Westmore, turning a violent red.
+
+"The man steering is Ferez Bey." Renoux handed the binoculars to
+Westmore with a shrug.
+
+Barres, bending double, had gone out into the swale. A thicket of
+cat-tails screened him and he advanced very carefully, keeping his
+eyes on the green-jacketed men whose heads, shoulders and rifles were
+visible above the swampy growth beyond.
+
+Suddenly Renoux, who was watching him in bitter silence, saw him turn
+and beckon violently.
+
+"Quick!" he said in a low, eager voice. "He may have found a ditch to
+shelter us!"
+
+Renoux was correct in his surmise: Barres stood with drawn pistol,
+awaiting them in a muddy ditch which ran through the reeds diagonally
+across the marsh. It was shin-deep in water.
+
+"We could make a pretty good stand in a ditch like this, couldn't we?"
+he demanded excitedly.
+
+"You bet we can!" replied Renoux, jumping down beside him, followed by
+Westmore, Alost and Souchez in turn.
+
+Barres, leading, ran down the ditch as fast as he could, spattering
+himself and the others with mud and water at every step.
+
+"Here!" panted Renoux, clambering nimbly out of the ditch and peering
+ahead through the reeds. Then he suddenly stood upright:
+
+"Halt!" he shouted. "It's all up with you, Skeel! Keep away from that
+boat, or I order my men to fire!"
+
+There was a dead silence for a moment; then Skeel's voice:
+
+"Better not bother us, my good man. We know our business and you'd
+better learn yours."
+
+"Skeel," retorted Renoux, "my business is other people's business,
+sometimes. It's yours just now. I warn you to keep away from that
+boat!" He turned and hailed the boat in the next breath: "Boat ahoy!
+Keep off or we open fire!"
+
+The metallic bang of a rifle cut him short and his straw hat was
+jerked from his head. Then came Skeel's voice, calmly dangerous:
+
+"I know you, Renoux! You have no standing here. Keep away or I'll kill
+you!"
+
+"What lawful standing have you--leading an armed expedition from the
+United States into Canada!" retorted Renoux, red with anger and
+looking about for his hat.
+
+"If you don't get back I shall surely kill you!" replied Skeel. "I
+count three, Renoux:--one--two--three." Bang! went another rifle, and
+Renoux shrugged and dropped reluctantly back into the ditch.
+
+"They're crazy," he said. "Barres, fire across that boat out yonder."
+
+Westmore also fired, aiming carefully at Ferez. It was too far; they
+both knew it. But the ricochetting bullets seemed to sting the rowers
+to frantic exertion, and Ferez, at the rudder, ducked and squatted
+flat, the tip of his hat alone showing over the gunwale.
+
+"We can't stop them," said Renoux desperately. "They're certain to
+reach that boat."
+
+Now, suddenly, Skeel's six rifles cracked viciously and the bullets
+came screaming over the ditch.
+
+Renoux fairly gnashed his teeth:
+
+"If a bluff won't stop them, then I'm through," he said bitterly. "I
+haven't any authority. I haven't the audacity to fire on them--to so
+insult your Government. And yet, by God!--there's the canal to
+remember!"
+
+Another volley from the Green Jackets, and again the whizzing scream
+of bullets through the cat-tails above their heads.
+
+"Look!" cried Barres. "They're embarking already! There isn't a chance
+of holding them."
+
+It was true. Pell-mell through the shallow water and into the boat
+leaped the Green Jackets, holding their rifles high in the early
+sunshine; Skeel sprang in last of all; the oars flashed.
+
+Pistols hanging helplessly, Renoux and his men stood there foolishly
+on the edge of their ditch and watched the boat pull back to the big
+power-craft.
+
+Nobody said anything. The Green Jackets climbed aboard with a derisive
+cheer. So near was the power-boat that Skeel, Ferez, and Soane were
+easily distinguishable there in the brilliant sunshine, on deck.
+
+"Anyway," burst out Renoux, "they'll not dare lie there at anchor and
+wait for dark, now."
+
+Even as he spoke the anchor came up.
+
+Very deliberately the small boat was hoisted to the davits; the big
+craft began to move, swinging her nose north by west, the spray
+breaking under the bows. She was already under way, already headed for
+the open sea.
+
+And then, without any warning whatever, out of the northeast, almost
+sheering the jutting point which had concealed her, rushed a Canadian
+patrol boat, her forward deck a geyser of spouting foam.
+
+A red lance of flame leaped from her forward gun; the sharp crack
+shattered the summer stillness; the shell went skittering away over
+the water, across the bows of the power-boat; a string of signals
+broke from the cruiser's mast.
+
+Then an amazing thing happened; the power-boat's after deck suddenly
+swarmed with Green Jackets; there came a flash and a report, and a
+shell burst over the Canadian patrol cruiser, cutting her halliards to
+ribbons.
+
+"Well--by--God!" gasped Renoux. Barres and Westmore stood petrified;
+but the three Frenchmen, with one accord, and standing up very
+straight, uncovered in the presence of these men who were about to
+die.
+
+Suddenly the power-boat broke out a flag at her masthead--a bright
+green flag bearing a golden harp.
+
+Again the small gun flashed from her after-deck; another gun spoke
+with a splitting report from the starboard bow; both the shells
+exploded close to the patrol cruiser, showering her superstructure
+with steel fragments.
+
+And, as the concussions subsided, and the landward echoes of the shots
+died away, far and clear from the power-boat's decks, across the
+water, came the defiant chorus:
+
+    "I saw the Shannon's purple tide
+    Roll by the Irish town,
+  As I stood in the breach by Donal's side
+  When England's flag went down!--"
+
+They were singing "Green Jackets," these doomed men. Barres could hear
+them cheering, too, for a moment only--then every gun aboard the
+flimsy little craft spat flame at the big Canadian, and the bursting
+shells splashed the water all around her with their pigmy fragments.
+
+Now, from the cruiser, a single gun bellowed. Instantly a red glare
+wrapped the launch; there was a heavy report, a fountain of rushing
+smoke and debris.
+
+Against the infernal flare of light Skeel's tall figure showed in
+silhouette, standing there with hat lifted as though cheering. Again,
+from the cruiser, a gun crashed. Where the burning launch had been a
+horrible flare shot up; and the shocking detonation rocked land and
+sky. On the water a vast black cloud rested, almost motionless; and
+all around rained charred things that had been wood and steel and
+clothing, perhaps--perhaps fragments of living creatures.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So passed into eternity Murtagh Skeel and his Green Jackets, hurled
+skyward in the twinkling of an eye on the roaring blast of their own
+magazine. What was left of their green flag attained an altitude
+unparalleled that sunny morning. But their souls soared higher into
+that blinding light which makes all things clear at last, solves all
+questions, all perplexities--which consoles all griefs and quiets at
+last the bitter mirth of those who have laughed at Death for
+conscience's sake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Very slowly the dull cloud lifted from the sunlit water. Dead fish
+floated there; others, half-stunned, lay awash with fins quivering, or
+strove to turn over, shining silver white in the morning sun.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+ASTHORE
+
+
+The sun hung low over Northbrook hills as Barres turned his touring
+car in between the high, white service gates of Foreland Farms, swung
+around the oval and backed into the garage.
+
+Barres senior, very trim in tweeds, the web-straps of a creel and a
+fly-book wallet crossing his breast, glanced up from his absorbing
+occupation of preparing evening casts on a twelve-foot, tapered
+mist-leader.
+
+"Hello," he said absently, glancing from his son to Westmore through
+his monocle, "where have you been keeping yourselves all day?"
+
+"I'll tell you all about it later, dad," said Garry, emerging from the
+garage with Westmore. "Where is mother?"
+
+"In the kennels, I believe.... What do you think of this cast, Jim?--a
+whirling dun for a dropper, a hare's ear for a----" He checked
+himself; glanced doubtfully at the two young men.
+
+"You're somewhat muddy," he remarked; and continued to explore his
+fly-book for new combinations.
+
+Westmore, very weary, started for the house; Garry walked across to
+the kennel gate, let himself in among a dozen segregated and very
+demonstrative English setters, walked along the tree-bordered alley
+behind the garage, and, shutting out the affectionate but quarantined
+dogs, entered the kennels.
+
+His mother, in smock and apron, and wearing rubber gloves, was seated
+on the edge of a straw-littered bunk, a bottle in one hand, a
+medicine-dropper in the other. Her four-footed patient, swathed in
+blankets, lay on the straw beside her.
+
+"Well, dear," she said, looking up at her son, "where have you been
+all night, and most of to-day?"
+
+"I'll tell you about it later, mother. There's something else I want
+to ask you----" He fell silent, watching her measure out fourteen
+drops of Grover's Specific for distemper.
+
+"I'm listening, Garry," she said, bending over the sick pup and gently
+forcing open his feverish jaws. Then she dropped her medicine far back
+on his tongue; the pup gulped, sneezed, looked at her out of dull eyes
+and feebly wagged his tail.
+
+"I'm going to pull him through, Garry," she said. "The other pups are
+doing well, too. But your sister and I were up with them all night. I
+only hope and pray that the distemper doesn't spread."
+
+She looked up at her son:
+
+"Well, dear, what is it you have to ask me?"
+
+"Mother, do you like Dulcie Soane?"
+
+"I scarcely know her yet.... She's very sweet--very young----"
+
+"Do you like her?"
+
+"Why--yes----" She looked intently at her tall, unsmiling son. "But I
+don't even know who she is, Garry."
+
+Her son bent down beside her and put one arm around her shoulder. She
+sat quite motionless with the bottle of Grover's Specific in one
+rubber-gloved hand, the medicine dropper poised in the other.
+
+He said:
+
+"Dulcie's name is Fane, not Soane. Her grandfather was Sir Barry
+Fane, of Fane Court--an Irishman. His daughter, Eileen, was Dulcie's
+mother.... Her father--is dead--I believe."
+
+"But--this explains nothing, Garry."
+
+"Is it not explanation enough, mother?"
+
+"Is it enough for you, my son?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Her head slowly drooped. She sat gazing in silence at the straw-littered
+floor.
+
+He looked earnestly, anxiously at his mother's face. Her brooding
+expression remained tranquil but inscrutable.
+
+He said, watching her intently:
+
+"I wasn't sure about myself until last night. I don't know about
+Dulcie, whether she can care for me--in this new way.... We were
+friends. But I am in love with her now.... Deeply."
+
+It was one of the moments in his career which remain fixed forever in
+a young man's memory.
+
+In a mother's memory, too. Whatever she says and does then, he never
+forgets. She, too, remembers always.
+
+He stood leaning over her in the dim light of the kennel, one arm
+around her shoulders, waiting. And presently she lifted her head,
+looked him quietly in the eyes, bent forward very gently, and kissed
+him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was not in the house, nor was Thessalie.
+
+Barres and Westmore exchanged conversation between their open doors
+while bathing and dressing.
+
+"You know, Garry," admitted the latter, "I feel all shaken up, yet,
+over that ghastly business."
+
+"So do I.... If they hadn't died so gamely.... But Skeel was a
+_man_!"
+
+"You bet he was, crazy or sane!... What a pity!... And that poor
+devil, Soane! Did you hear them cheering there, at the last? And what
+superb nerve--breaking out that green flag!"
+
+"And think of their opening on that big patrol boat! They hadn't a
+chance."
+
+"They had no chance anyway," said Westmore. "It meant execution if
+they surrendered--at least, they probably thought so. But how do you
+suppose that cowardly strangler, Ferez, felt when he realised that
+Skeel was going to fight?"
+
+"He certainly got what was coming to him, didn't he?" said Barres
+grimly. "You'll tell Thessa, won't you?"
+
+"As soon as I can find her," nodded Westmore, giving his fresh bow-tie
+a most killing twist.
+
+He was ready before Barres was, and he lost no time in starting out to
+find Thessalie.
+
+Barres, following him later, discovered him on the library lounge with
+Thessalie's fair cheek resting against his.
+
+"I'm s-sorry!" he stammered, backing out, and very conscious of
+Westmore's unconcealed annoyance. But Thessalie called to him in a
+perfectly calm voice, and he ventured to come back.
+
+"Are you going to tell Dulcie about this horrible affair?" she asked.
+
+"Not immediately.... Are you feeling all right, Thessa?"
+
+"Yes. I had a horrid night. Isn't it odd how a girl can so completely
+lose her nerve after a thing is all over?"
+
+"That's the best time to lose it," said Westmore. And to Barres:
+"She's bruised from head to foot and her neck hurts yet----"
+
+"It is nothing," murmured Thessalie, looking smilingly at her lover.
+Then they both glanced at Barres.
+
+There was a silence. Side by side on the library lounge they continued
+to gaze expectantly at Barres. And when he got it into his head that
+this polite expectancy might express their desire for his early
+departure, he backed out again, embarrassed and slightly irritated.
+
+Thessalie called to him very sweetly:
+
+"If you are looking for Dulcie, I left her a few minutes ago over by
+the wall-fountain in the rose arbour."
+
+"Thanks," he said, and turned back through the hall, traversing it to
+the north veranda.
+
+There was no sign of Dulcie in the garden or on the lawn. He walked
+slowly across the clipped grass, beyond the pool, and, turning to the
+right past a sun-dial, stepped into the long rose-arbour. At the
+further end of the blossoming tunnel he saw her seated on the low wall
+in the rear of the tea-house. Her head was turned toward the woods
+beyond.
+
+When he was near her she heard him and looked around, was on the point
+of rising, but something in his expression held her motionless.
+
+"Where have you been, Garry?"
+
+He ignored the question, seated himself beside her on the wall, and
+drew both her hands into his. He saw the swift colour stain her face,
+the lovely, disconcerted eyes lower.
+
+"Last night," he said, "did you come back as you promised?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you found me gone."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"What could you have thought of me, Dulcie?"
+
+"I--my thoughts were--not very clear."
+
+"Are they clearer?"
+
+Her head remained lowered but she raised her grey eyes to his. Her
+face had become very still and white.
+
+"Dulcie," he said under his breath, "I am in love with you.... What
+will you do about it?"
+
+And, after a little while:
+
+"W-what shall I do, Garry?" she whispered.
+
+"Love me. Can you?"
+
+She remained silent.
+
+"Will you?--Dulcie Fane!"
+
+Her lips stirred, but no sound came.
+
+"You are so wonderful," he said. "I am just realising that I began to
+fall in love with you a long time ago."
+
+The declining sun sent a red shaft across the fields, painting every
+tree-trunk, gilding bramble and brake. A single ray touched the girl's
+white neck and turned her copper-tinted hair to burning gold.
+
+"Do you love me? Can you love me, that way, Dulcie?"
+
+She rose abruptly, and he rose too, retaining her hands; but as she
+turned her head from him he saw her mouth quiver.
+
+"Dearest--dearest!" But she interrupted him:
+
+"I want to tell you--that I don't understand why I should be called by
+my mother's maiden name.... I w-want you to know that I _don't_
+understand it ... if that would make a difference--in your c-caring
+for me.... And I wish you to know that--that I love and worship her
+memory--and that I am happy and proud--and _proud_--to bear her
+name."
+
+"My darling----"
+
+"Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Dulcie."
+
+"And do you still want me?"
+
+"You adorable child----"
+
+"_Do_ you?"
+
+"Of course I do----" He caught her in his arms, held her close, lifted
+her flushed face. "Now, tell me whether you can love _me_! Tell me
+everything that's hidden in your mind and heart!"
+
+"Oh, Garry," she faltered, "I do belong to you. I belong to you
+anyway, because you made me. And I've always been in love with
+you--always!--always from the very beginning of the world, _Asthore_!
+And now--if you want me--this way--Garry _mo veel asthore_----" Her
+hands crept from his breast to his shoulders; stole up around his
+neck. "Asthore," she murmured; and their lips met in their first kiss.
+Then she gravely turned her head and laid her cheek against his; and
+he heard her murmuring to herself:
+
+"_Drahareen o machree, mo veel asthore!_ This man--this man who takes
+my heart--and gives me his...."
+
+"What are you murmuring there all to yourself?" he whispered, laughing
+and drawing her closer. But she only clung to him passionately and her
+closed lids kept back the starting tears.
+
+"What is it, dear?" he asked.
+
+"H-happiness," she whispered, "and pride, perhaps.... And my love for
+you, Asthore!"
+
+
+
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